Authors' Notes: This time the end is finally nigh! After this one I have outlined only three more chapters to go and then that's it for this "holiday dribble"… Thank you for everyone who has hung on for this long and special thanks for all the lovely comments you have left, which have been funny, inspiring, encouraging and absolutely stimulating… *hugs to all*
Summary: Eventually Sansa's eyes dry and she goes searching for her babes, embarrassing young lord Norr by embracing him tightly in front of castlefolk, delighting Fira with a motherly hug and making Santina happy by taking her to share her mother's bed for the night so she can better hold her. Sandor sighs and makes his bed in the solar, but not before kissing his wife and his youngest a sweet goodnight.
Sandor
Their return trip is swift and they get back in plenty of time for Sansa to prepare for giving birth in Clegane's Burrow once again. Lady Catelyn and Arya have travelled there to be by her side and so their fourth child is born surrounded by all the strong women of House Stark.
The birthing is long and hard, Sansa having already passed her best childbearing years. Afterwards their maester gravely tells Sandor that it is unlikely that she will carry any more children, especially considering how long it took her to get pregnant in the first place.
He doesn't care about it, not now when he has a new life to hold in his arms once again. It is a girl, as they knew, and they name her Santina after both her mother and father. Arya takes to the new babe even more than she did with the others, possibly because of despite being married for a long time now, she still hasn't carried a babe of her own. Whether it is a respectful arrangement between she and her lord husband to save him from the indignity of his wife carrying a child for another man, or whether she simply is barren, nobody knows, not even Sansa.
After one year Norr comes home. He left as a boy and comes back as a man. His trip has been success by all counts and he saw more in that short time than most people in Westeros see in their whole life.
His return feels like a gust of fresh wind through the solemn fortress, and he fills long evenings in the hall with his colourful stories of strange and wonderful places. Initially Sandor is sure that he only came back for a while to rest and recuperate before going across the sea again. Hence he is surprised when a few weeks after his return Norr asks his father aside and they have a long conversation. It is their first as one adult to another and Sandor feels ridiculously proud of the way his son handles himself.
"Father, I loved my time away and I wouldn't change it for anything. Yet being gone also made me realise some important things," Norr starts and fidgets with his dagger while they sit on a bench at the battlements, looking over the flurry of activity in the inner yard and outside the keep.
"Aye, and what is that?" Sandor rasps, his eyes sweeping over his son's tall form and shoulders that have widened to those of a man's.
Norr directs a far-reaching look across the fields and the forests. "I realised that I belong here. This is where I want to live, to settle down and serve my people. Mayhap I will raise a family of my own one day, and if I do, I want them to learn to love the landscape and the wild beauty of this place as I have."
Sandor startles. This is exactly what he had already dared to hope, yet to hear just a young boy on the cusp of manhood speaking so resolutely about his love for a place and its people… Hells, I was never as level-headed as he is!
He reaches for his son and thumps him on the shoulder so that he almost falls from the bench.
"So it shall be. You'll stay here and you'll be the next Lord of Queenscrown and Warden of the Far-North and rule better than I ever did. What do I know about ruling, a warrior and a wind-blown from the west as I am?"
Norr smirks and seems to grow inches just from his father's words. And so the matter of succession is determined.
If Norr has satisfied his travel lust, the same can't be said about his brother. Spurred on by the stories he hears, Orm becomes determined that he is the next one to fly out of the nest to explore the wider world. Sansa and Sandor sigh and reside themselves to the fact that when the time comes, they have to let him go. Their only comfort is that it will be a long time still before they have to succumb to the inevitable.
Yet years go by quicker than a stream of sand passes through one's fingers.
Lady Catelyn moves permanently to Queenscrown to Sansa's delight, and Sandor has to admit that he too is pleased to see her there. It seems that in her older years she has relaxed her stance regarding propriety and honour, or maybe she is only being influenced by the behaviour of her rebellious daughters. Whatever it is, she is followed there by a knight from House Umber, a widower with whom Lady Catelyn has formed a close relationship. Whether they are only confidants of mind or whether proud Lady of Houses Tully and Stark lets the man in her bed, Sandor doesn't know - but from the contented manner the still handsome and genial knight purports himself, he ventures to guess the latter.
He is glad, and so is Sansa, as the matriarch of House Stark surely deserves some happiness of her own, it being so many years since she lost her lord husband. Everyone pretends not to notice anything and gradually the man, Ser Horen, is introduced to the folds of the family and becomes an integral part of their gatherings. When a year after their move they marry each other in a private family ceremony in the modest sept Sansa commissioned to be built, hardly anyone notices any difference in the way life goes on.
Arya's husband dies suddenly in his estate at the Neck for natural reasons. Arya seems genuinely to grief for him, although it doesn't take longer than a few moons when she weds her long-time companion Gendry. Less than years' time everyone's curiosity about her fecundity is answered when she delivers not one babe but two; healthy twin boys. Gendry can't stop grinning for weeks afterwards and it makes Sandor's heart lurch when he thinks back at the time when he first became father.
Bran stays in Winterfell and serves as a wise advisor to King Robb, being the first among his council. Rickon grows up to be a good warrior, hunter and leader of troops, but he doesn't settle in any particular place. Being the youngest son he has no burdens of ruling on his shoulders and he is contented to serve his older siblings Robb and Sansa, moving between their estates as he is needed. Eventually he marries Ormar Bylle's youngest daughter, and in time children follow, half-wildlings not only in blood but in temperament as well.
Santina is the apple of her parents' eye and grows up indulged by everyone; her father and mother, her older siblings, her grandmother and all the relatives and close friends of the family. Arya has continued to shower her with her attention, and very fitting it is, young Santina growing up as wilful and strong as her aunt was in her younger years. Her appearance reflects that of Arya's as well; grey eyes, dark hair and short but strong body.
Orm leaves in due course as everyone knew he would, he too joining King Stannis' delegation to Meereen as his first voyage. Before he leaves he proudly shows his parents the sigil he decided to take with him in his shield and in his cloak; a fierce, growling wolfhound. He explains that since his father's sigil is a dog and his mother's a wolf, it makes only sense for him to make his a combination of the two. Sandor sees the logic of it and congratulates him on his choice, but as he catches Sansa's eyes across the new shield he knows what she is thinking. He will discover new and mysterious worlds and his sigil is that of a wolfhound, the prophecy said.
A year later Orm comes back but doesn't speak of his desire to stay. He is almost as tall and muscular as his sire, and when Sandor looks at him, he sees himself as he was in his youth. Hard grey eyes, straight black hair, his strength only surpassed by Sandor's own. The only thing missing is his disfigured face and the rage in his eyes, a rage that he carried all through his own young adulthood.
After hardly a year's stay, interrupted by shorter trips beyond the Wall all the way to the Frozen Shore, Orm leaves again and stays away for the best part of the next three years. Only an occasional message carried by traders or sellswords from wherever he has travelled finds its way through many hands to his parents. He is well, he assures in them, travelling across the red waste in Essos, or along the shores of Jade Sea, or visiting the bustling city of Qarth.
On those days Sandor has to console his wife who retires weeping to their chambers, clutching the note from her youngest son in her hands. The babe who grew up much too quickly, and who – despite prophecy already having told them how he is supposed to travel far – is still sorely missed. Sandor's own heart is heavy but he tries his best to soothe Sansa, whispering into her ear how their three other children are still with them, hale and hearty.
Eventually Sansa's eyes dry and she goes searching for her babes, embarrassing young lord Norr by embracing him tightly in front of castlefolk, delighting Fira with a motherly hug and making Santina happy by taking her to share her mother's bed for the night so she can better hold her. Sandor sighs and makes his bed in the solar, but not before kissing his wife and his youngest a sweet goodnight.