Sansa sat in a small office waiting on Samwell Tarly to appear. She fidgeted with the envelope that had become her life line, her salvation, and she would hand it to no one but Sam Tarly. She had argued this point with the smuggler that had taken her from Oakenshield, and with every person she had encountered since being let off at Weymouth, that had tried to take it from her.

Using that envelope she had managed to hitchhike her way from the coast to the air base that Jon had mentioned was his last station. The envelope, combined with the skills she had honed after years of dealing with Petyr and Ramsay, had allowed her to fast talk and charm her way on to the base. She had talked her way around and finally found someone that had remembered Jon. They had agreed to contact Sam for her. Thankfully, Sam was stationed at Harpenden and so she had only had to wait a couple of days for him to come to her.

The door opened and a portly dark haired man in a uniform came in. "Sansa Stark?" he asked her.

She nodded. "Are you Sam? Samwell Tarly?"

"I am. They tell me you have news from Commander Snow." She nodded again and tapped down the tears that were trying to form. Sam seemed nervous and was fidgeting worse than her. Sansa struggled to find the words, but it seemed Sam could read her expression. "He's dead isn't he?"

She swallowed and then answered, "Yes, a few days ago."

He took a seat in a chair on the side of the table adjacent to her. "They told me he was presumed KIA months ago, but I guess I had hoped….. Well, it's no easier to hear it now. Were you there?" She nodded. "Can I ask how?"

"Saving me," she whispered and suddenly felt overwhelming guilt, everyone had died because of her, everyone. A couple of tears managed to escape and trail down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he sighed and handed her a handkerchief. "That sounds like Jon though, he would die a hero." She wiped her eyes and then realized he was looking at the envelope in her hands now.

She stared at the envelope, at the bloody fingerprints, and blinked away more tears. It was the only thing she had of him still and the thought of handing it over was causing her physical pain, but she had to honor his wishes. "He said I was to give this only to you." She waited one more mournful moment and then she handed the letter to Sam even though it felt like she was giving him the last piece of her soul.

"Thank you Sansa," he said taking it and focusing his gaze on the blood stains. He sighed and then looked at her again. "Is there anything I can get for you? Assist you with?"

She dabbed at her eyes again and steeled her mind. It was time to be practical once more. "I need to get to my family, to London….."

"I'm sure I can help arrange that."

They sat quietly for a moment and Sam turned the envelope over in his hands nervously. He finally rose which caused Sansa to shoot her hand out and grab his arm. He jumped a bit, looking startled and then embarrassed.

"Sorry, but actually can you open that now? If it's top secret you don't have to tell me details, but – I just…." She wasn't sure what she hoped was in there but she hoped it was important, that somehow she had helped by bringing it here.

"Of course." Sam tore open the envelope and took out the folded letter. He flipped it open and began to read the first lines. His face grew red and he folded it down and placed it on the table in front of Sansa. "It appears it is actually for you."

"Me? But he insisted I bring it to you."

Sam smiled sadly, knowingly. "I think he wanted to make sure that you would get here, that they would listen to you and take you. I'll give you some time to read it. In the meantime I'll see about getting you home." Sam gave her hand a pat and then left the room.

She stared at the paper like it was a poisonous snake, like it was a living thing that could do nothing but wound her. She took a deep breath, she wasn't sure she was prepared to read Jon's final words to her, but she couldn't not read them either. She picked it up and flipped the letter open and began to read:

"Dearest Sansa,

Tonight we said our last goodbye, and rather than lay in tears in bed all night I'm writing this letter as I watch you sleep, so please indulge me if I ramble. You'll probably never know how beautiful you look right now, laying there naked, wrapped in the blankets with this soft sleepy smile on your face. It's a sight I hope to see every day of my life once the war has ended. Honestly though, all I can think of is that after tomorrow I'll spend every day wanting nothing more than to see your face once more.

I actually hope you never have to read this, but if you are, know I'm sorry.

I'm sorry because if you are reading this it means that I failed to keep my word and I will not be able to find you after the war. I can only hope that my death was heroic, that I took out a bunch of those Nazi bastards when I went, that I died for a noble purpose.

I'm sorry I couldn't stay, I never wanted to go. But you were right, I had a duty and there was nothing else I could do that could keep you safe. I owed it to you to do something. I want you to know that you brought out the best of me, a part of me I'd never seen. It was as if you took my soul and wiped it clean. I think my real life began on that island. It hadn't matter then that I came from nothing, with you I became something. Because of that as I write this I can promise you that you and your happiness were the last things I thought of when I slipped from this life.

Despite the war the time I spent with you and Arya was the most amazing and important months of my life. I hope after I left that the two of you continued to be safe and not drive each other too crazy. Please give Arya my love and tell her I hope she was able to outwit that fox before the end of the war."

Sansa set the letter down. His wishes to Arya had set her crying so hard she could no longer read the words, and she feared they might even smear the ink. It took her several minutes to regain her composure and continue on.

"I told you more than once that you and Arya gave me a family and made me belong. I know you dream of rebuilding your family, of carrying on the Starks. I'm so sorry that I won't get to be a part of that. But I want you to know that I want that for you still. I know you may not want to hear that now, but if you're reading this there's going to come a day when you might be ready to move on, you might find someone else, and that's OK. You have so much love to give, please don't let that die with me. And more than that, I want you to be loved, I want you to feel as whole and happy as you made me.

Please Sansa, you've survived so much, please don't let my death be the thing that actually destroys you. Please carry on and try to fill your life with love and joy. It's all I have ever wanted for you.

I will love you always.

Yours truly,

Jon."

She read the letter again and then set her forehead on the table and sobbed.

Xxxxxx

She must've drifted off to sleep because the next thing she knew Sam was standing next to her gently tapping her shoulder. She sat up startled and Sam jumped back a bit.

"I'm sorry! I hate to wake you, but then I can't imagine sleeping hunched at a table is comfortable," he apologized.

"It's ok," she said and felt herself flush a bit with embarrassment.

"I'm headed back to Harpenden tomorrow, so I figured I can escort you to London." An expression passed over Sansa's face. Sam read it as an apology, so he added, "It would be what Jon would want after all."

"Thank you Sam," she answered and seemed to relax a little. She then gave him a timid look. "Can I ask you for something else as well?"

"Of course, Jon'll haunt me if I refuse," he said with a sad rueful smile.

She attempted to return his smile, but it looked more like a controlled grimace. Sam flushed and cursed himself for being so awkward. If Jon was alive he would've laughed good naturedly at him to soothe his nerves. Jon had always been encouraging and kind to him. Jon had saved him so many times in the orphanage. Images of their youth began to play in Sam's mind.

Sam was so caught up in his memories he realized he had not heard Sansa's request. "I'm sorry, can you say that again?" Sam flushed further and shook his head at himself.

Sansa flushed too and wondered if she was asking too much, but she repeated her request. "Can you inquire about my brother, Robb Stark? He's in the RAF." Sam looked perplexed but nodded. "I have no idea of his current rank or station… or if he is even alive…..." She began to choke up again.

Sam patted her hand. "I'll have an answer for you before we go tomorrow, I promise."

xxxxxxxxx

It had taken some digging, but Sam had been able to locate Robb. He was somehow still alive and Sansa had broken down and wept in Sam's arms when he told her. He was part of the Desert Air Force now, a member of a squadron of the RAF that was stationed and fighting in Africa. She was heavy hearted to learn he was so far from her and yet elated that he was still alive. Sam told her she could write him, the letter might take a bit to get to him, but eventually it would find him.

They rode in the back of a transport to London. Sam kept her busy with stories about Jon from their childhood and their life in Leeds. Sansa told him a couple stories about Jon and Arya and their time on the island. It felt good to indulge in happy memories of them, even if only for a couple of hours.

When they reached the outer edges of London they had fallen silent. Sansa could not believe how the city had changed. There were piles of rubble and burned out buildings on nearly every street. It made Sansa sick to her stomach. As they made their way further into the interior the damage increased, she started to fear what she would find when she reached her home. And then a wave of panic swept over her. If she did find her parents what would she even say? How could she possibly explain what had happened to Arya? That she was returning home without her little sister? She swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in her throat.

The truck bumped to a stop and Sam's voice cut into her thoughts. "- as far as they can go."

"What?" she said looking at him confused.

"I said you'll need to walk or get a bus from here, this is as far as they can go."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry but we have to get back to base and I have to explain I didn't get any actual intelligence," he apologized and turned bright red.

"It's ok, Sam. I understand. Thank you for everything."

Sam helped her from the truck and gave her a hug. He then handed her all the money he had. "Please stay in touch. And if you ever need anything, please get word to me."

"I will. Be safe. Thank you again for everything."

Sam climbed back in the truck and gave her another wave as they pulled away. Sam felt terrible to leave her like this, but he had had to call in favors and talk up the fact he might be able to get some good intelligence just to be able to see her in the first place. And now that that he nothing to show for it, so he knew he needed to follow his orders and return to his station as soon as possible. He mumbled a prayer asking for Jon's forgiveness.

Sansa made her way to the bus station and eventually found her way to the edge of her neighborhood. The area had been leveled by the bombing, so the bus didn't actually run into the neighborhood anymore.

She made the rest of the way on foot. She already knew what she would find, but when she turned on her street she felt her heart turn to lead nonetheless. There was nothing standing, save for a few chimneys or exposed brick walls. It was a terrifying moonscape of despair. There was nothing here for her. The question now was what had happened to her parents, to Bran?

Xxxxxx

Sansa stepped off the train at the Nottingham station and looked around. After a few moments she saw Edmure. He waved at her from near the end of the platform. She went to him, their eyes meeting and mirroring each other's sadness. After a pause they hugged.

"Rickon's back at the house with Roslin," he said as they drew apart. "He wanted to come but he was tired."

Sansa nodded in understanding but she wondered if that was the truth. Rickon would be six now, she hadn't seen him in two years, she wondered if he even remembered who she was.

"The car's this way," Edmure said picking up her satchel. They walked in silence. She knew he had much to tell her, but she could see the tension in his shoulders; he was not ready just yet to tell her the story of her parents and Bran.

After she had found the ruins of their home she had reported to a refugee center. They had given her some food, clothes and a place to sleep. She had sent a telegram to Edmure telling him she was alive and in London. She didn't mention Arya or Lysa's fate, she knew he would assume quite a bit from their lack of inclusion in her message. He had quickly responded that he, Roslin, their son, EJ, and Rickon were alive and well and she should come to them. He added that he was sad to inform her they were the only ones remaining, but offered no further information. He did however wire her money to purchase the train ticket to Nottingham.

They rode in silence back to his home and went inside. Roslin greeted them with Rickon en tow. He held his aunt's hand and looked shyly at Sansa. When she tried to greet him her had buried his face in Roslin's skirt. As she feared, he did not seem to remember her. Roslin gave her a reassuring smile as she patted Rickon's shoulder, "He'll come around."

"Do you want to rest?" Edmure asked her. "I can show you to your room."

"If it's all the same can we talk now? I'd like to know what happened to….." she answered, her voice trailed off as she looked at Rickon.

"Of course. Ros, can you bring us some tea? We'll be in the library."

Roslin nodded and headed off taking Rickon with her. Sansa turned and followed Edmure to the library. They took a seat in the chairs before the fire.

"I'm sorry. I don't even know where to start," he said gazing into the fire.

Sansa watched the fire for a moment shaking off the memory of sitting before the fire at the Umber Estate with Ramsay not so long ago. When her mind was clear she prompting him to begin. "When did it happen?"

He took a breath and let out a sad sigh. "For your parents; December 1940. It was the worst night of bombing London had seen. They died in the house. Somehow Bran had survived, he was found in the rubble the following day, but he was paralyzed. He was taken to the hospital but eventually he got an infection, he died in February. I regret that we didn't take him when we took Rickon, but we were just about to have the baby then and –." He choked up then and covered his face with his hands.

"It's ok. How could you have known? Anyways, mum would've never agreed, I'm sure it would have been too hard on her to have us all away from her…" She sat for a moment watching the fire again and thought back to her mother's comment to Bran the night it had been decided that she and Arya would go to the island, how Cat had told her she wanted to keep him with her. She wondered if her mother had thought of those words at the end. If she had mourned sealing her son's fate that night. The thought made her heart ache for her.

They sat quietly while Edmure composed himself. When he finally was ready he turned to her. "Sansa. I hate to, but I must ask, what happened on Oakenshield, to Brynden? Lysa and Robin? Arya?" He grimaced as he said each of their names.

"I don't know Brynden's fate. He was arrested for helping run the resistance on the island, he was deported in '41."

"That old coot might still be alive then, probably trying to lead a rebellion wherever he is," Edmure mused and it made Sansa smile. She hoped it might be true. Edmure's smile faded though and he looked at her with resigned sadness once more.

She continued on. "Lysa and Robin both went last year as well, typhus. It was impossible to get the proper medicine under the Nazis." She had decided it would be easier for everyone to tell the story this way, there was no reason to sully Lysa's name by saying she killed herself, and honestly Sansa wasn't even sure if that was the truth. She'd long suspected that Petyr had played a much larger part in her aunt's death than he'd ever admitted.

"And Arya…. Arya was killed by a Nazi the night I fled the island," she added quietly as tears began to slip down her cheeks.

Edmure handed her a handkerchief and she dabbed her face. "It must've been quite awful living under their rule."

"It was, you have no idea…. but we did our best." An image of her, Arya and Jon standing in the barn on New Year's Eve appeared in her mind. "Sometimes I think we even managed to be happy."

Edmure gave her a soft smile. "Well it's not all terrible news, Robb is still alive."

"Yes, in Africa."

Edmure then gave her a surprised look. "How do -,"

"Arya and I were hiding a downed RAF man. When I made it back here I was able to have one of his friends look into it for me. It's the only good thing I've heard in months."

She could see the gears turning in his mind. "I'm surprised you'd take such a risk," he said. "That was very brave of you," he added quickly when he noticed the distressed look on her face. She could tell he wanted to say something more but was holding back.

"You can just say it," she said, she was too exhausted for speculation.

"The pilot, is that why Arya is dead?"

She thought she'd been prepared, but his words cut her deeply nonetheless. She tried to answer, "No, no not directly. Arya's dead because….." Sansa started to sob and was unable to finish her statement. Her mind screamed at her, 'Arya's dead because of me, because Petyr and Ramsay were obsessed and I loss control the situation. I failed.'

Edmure rose to give her a hug. He seemed uncomfortable with her uncontrollable tears. "Maybe you'd like to go rest now?" She managed to nod. Roslin had just entered with tea, but upon seeing Sansa crying she set it down and shooed Edmure off. She led Sansa away upstairs to what was to now be her room.

Once inside she steered her to the bed and sat beside her, stroking her hair and her back. The tenderness only made Sansa miss her mother more and she began to cry even harder.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Roslin asked gently.

Sansa shook her head, batting away her tears, trying to compose herself.

"Are you sure? I don't mind."

"No, I'll be ok. Some of it is just relief. At least I know now…. I just miss them… but at least I know," she sobbed. Roslin stayed anyways. She held her until Sansa got herself under control and assured her it was ok to leave.

"Take all the time you need. Call if you need anything," Roslin said and gave her a final hug.

Sansa watched her leave and close the door and then she lay down on the bed, buried her face in the pillows and cried herself empty.

XXXXXXXXX

She had been with Edmure and Roslin for a few weeks now and things had been rough. She refused to speak any further about anything that had happened on Oakenshield, and whenever it was brought up she became angry or would dissolve in tears. Edmure started to keep his distance.

She felt exhausted all the time, as well as sick. Most days half of what she ate came right back up. She frequently had nightmares and would awake in tears, or worse, screaming. This meant that Rickon continued to be frightened of her, which was just another source of frustration. It seemed the relative safety of Nottingham was allowing her to fall apart, and so she grew extremely frustrated and irritable.

Roslin was the only one that continued to try with her, and she had decided it might help her if she got involved in something. She reasoned that perhaps if she was distracted she'd have less time to be miserable. The first time she had mentioned to Sansa that she should come with her to the local knitting circle Sansa had suffered a panic attack. It reminded her far too much of the sewing circle on Oakenshield. Roslin's innocent suggestion had filled her mind with thoughts of Molly, Jeyne, Mrs. Glover and all the others. Had the Germans accepted the fire had been an accident? Had there been reprisals? Were they all still alive? Did they believe she was dead? Had they mourned her?

She had shut herself in her room for a couple days after that. Roslin tried to talk to her but she refused. The sense of guilt she felt was threatening to consume her. For the first time she started to understand why Alys Karstark had gone into that pond.

And then a letter arrived from Robb, slid under her door by Edmure. It was a letter filled with relief and joy that she was alive. It focused on the future, on the survival of the family, on their reunion once the war ended or he could get leave. And while he acknowledged what they had lost, he did not dwell on it and reminded her to do the same. The letter did not offer her absolution but it was a lifeline.

So she pulled herself together and finally left her room. She told Roslin she would go to the knitting circle if they were willing to teach her how to knit. Robb was right, they were still alive, as was Rickon, and it was their responsibility to carry on.

xxxxxxx

A week later she went with Roslin to the knitting circle at the local church. She had felt nervous and apprehensive to meet new people, but Roslin assured her everyone was kind and would welcome her. And she was relieved to find it to be true. She was also relieved to find that everyone likewise suffered from their own grief and did not wish to invite more, therefore their questions were minimal.

Everything had been alright until midway through the meeting when someone had brought out a plate of deviled eggs. The smell had turned Sansa's stomach and sent her to the bathroom where she proceeded to be sick. She eventually composed herself and made her way back to the group. No one said anything but she noticed Roslin regarding her carefully. Her eyes clearly filled with concern as well as questions, though she said nothing other than to ask her if she was alright.

Sansa said she was and Roslin had just nodded, but Sansa could tell they would be discussing it later.

Xxxxxxx

That night Sansa sat in the window seat in her room reading with the window open. It was early June and though it was not yet fully summer she found she often felt warm. She looked up when she heard a knock at her door and called for whoever it was to enter.

It was Roslin and she looked nervous, she was wringing her hands and sat on the edge of the bed across from Sansa.

"I want to talk to you," she began.

Sansa felt her heart rate jump. Roslin seemed so nervous and in Sansa's experience there were very few things that would make her aunt seem this tense. She refused to entertain the notation something was wrong with either of her brothers, which left only a couple options, her uncle had grown tired of her and wanted her gone or she wanted to talk about Oakenshield. For a brief moment Sansa thought it would be easier to be tossed out.

Sansa looked at her tentatively and waited, digging her nails into her palm.

"I know you have been very clear that you don't want to discuss what happened on the island…."

"I have, and nothing has changed."

"Sansa, I understand, I do, and I don't want to upset you, but there are things I have noticed and well, I, we can't keep ignoring them."

"What things?"

"Your exhaustion, how you get sick."

"I have nightmares, I don't sleep. My nerves are shot, it makes me sick. I'm sorry you are worried, I'll try to be better."

"I don't think it's only grief that is making you feel like this."

"What are you saying? Do you think I'm sick? That I have cancer or something terrible?" Her voice was raising, she felt the beginnings of a panic attack starting to form around the edges of her consciousness.

"No, not cancer."

"Then what?! You think I've gone mad then? Is that it?" She started to cry then and Roslin moved to the window seat and took her in her arms.

"No, no I don't think you're mad. I think you are overwhelmed, and you have lost so much, but sweet girl I think you might be….." Roslin sighed losing her nerve.

"That I might be what?" Sansa said drawing back, her tears ceasing, fear clawing at her heart.

"Is there any chance you might be with child?" she asked softly.

Sansa pulled from Roslin as if she was made of fire and shot off the window seat. Her eyes grew wide with panic and she sputtered. "I…. I….."

Roslin sat quietly as Sansa paced and considered her words. She finally stilled and looked at her aunt. "I thought it was all due to the grief….. It still might be."

"But it's a possibility, yes?"

Sansa nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. Roslin crossed the room and hugged her. "It's not what you think," she sobbed.

Roslin pulled back and held her face gently. "You don't have to tell me the details, but Edmure and I do have a few questions."

"He's going to be so ashamed. Are you going to throw me out?" Sansa wept. She regretted now that she'd been a miserable houseguest, and now this. She had nowhere else to go, and if Roslin was right, well who would take her in such a condition? She suddenly felt heavy with despair.

"Oh Sansa, of course not!" Roslin cried and folded her to her. "You are family! We would never do such a thing. Why would you think that?"

"I'm unmarried and – well people will judge and -,"

"Sansa, if you are worried what people will think, don't. Honestly most people will just assume the father if away at war or ….. Well, just never you mind what people might think. None of that matters. As I said you are family."

Sansa nodded, she forced herself to stop crying, she feared the questions her aunt had but she knew she owed her something for her kindness. "What are your questions?"

"Do you know who the father is?"

"Yes."

"Did he force you?"

"No, never. Never."

"Was he German?"

"No. He was brave and gentle and strong, and I loved him and he loved me." She thought of Jon and the tears started again and Roslin held her once more.

"That's wonderful dear. Just try to relax, everything is going to be alright."

xxxxx

They went to the doctor the following week and he confirmed Roslin's suspicions. She was in fact pregnant, the baby due in January.

Sansa was shocked at how accepting her aunt and uncle were being of all this. She had expected for Edmure, at least, to be furious, to accuse her of dishonoring the family by being unwed and pregnant, but he said nothing unkind.

She wrote to Robb and told him the news. And even though she felt overwhelmed and a bit terrified, her letter expressed nothing but joy. She didn't want to worry her brother and she knew he would support her if he thought this would make her happy.

The idea of Jon's child growing in her did bring her some measure of joy, but it also made her ache for him all the more. And that made her feel guilty because their child had already experience weeks of grief inside her. So she tried to push the sadness from her mind; she was determined these next few months should be full of as much peace and calm as she could muster.

The awareness of her child seemed to have made the nightmares stop. And by the time she started to feel the baby move Rickon had started to bond with her more. He and EJ were fascinated by her growing belly, and by the time fall arrived they both loved to curl up with her near the fire and watch the baby move and have her read them stories.

She also found that Roslin had been right about people's reactions. It was quite common for women now to find themselves in similar positions, carrying children of men away at war, of men lost to the cause. People just assumed she was a young widow and she never corrected them.

Robb had eventually responded to her news and as expected was supportive. His letter though had moved her to tears with mentions of their parents and how they would've been so pleased to be grandparents and to see the Stark family grow. He again spoke of their reunion and how he couldn't wait to be introduced to his niece or nephew.

The baby in true Stark fashion decided that New Year's Eve was the day to begin its appearance in the world. Sansa's water broke shortly before midnight, during the first major snow storm of winter. And suddenly all her happiness evaporated, fear and longing replacing it. She wanted her mother, she wanted Jon; she wanted Arya.

It took them forever to get to the hospital. Edmure had been in a panic she might end up having the baby in his car, but once they were at the hospital the baby no longer seemed in any hurry.

And so her labor dragged on and her distress and despair grew. Roslin stayed with her and tried to comfort her but Sansa became distraught in her exhaustion, wailing for her mother, her sister, for Jon. Roslin still knew little of the baby's father, Sansa still rarely spoke of him or the island, but Roslin knew the wall that Sansa had constructed against the past was crumbling under the pain of childbirth.

And when the little boy was finally pulled from her after thirty six hours of labor it had only gotten worse. She had heard him crying but had not been able to hold him as she fell towards unconsciousness. She had started to hemorrhage. They were able to control it and save her life but then the fever had set in.

Sansa had never even seen her son and now she seemed to be hovering between life and death. The doctors told Roslin and Edmure they had done all they could but it would be up to Sansa now to decide if she would pull through.

The fever broke a couple days later but in that time she had suffered from terrible fever dreams and nightmares. Ramsay and Petyr had both come to her, taunting and torturing her, filling her with even more fear and self-loathing. Arya came to her as well, it had not been a happy reunion either, but rather a nightmare of accusations of fault and abandonment. Jon never came, it was as if he knew coming to her would make her follow him towards the darkness.

The day her fever broke they brought her son to her. The nurses had looked so happy as they brought him in. "Here he is. Perfect little Mr. Jon," one nurse announced joyously.

"Who named him Jon!?" she snapped, fear gripping her heart. This had to be a cruel joke.

The nurses exchanged a look before one of them answered. "Well you did. You have been calling out for him for the last two days. We just assumed…."

Sansa said nothing and just gaped at them. The nurse looked uncomfortable but she placed the sleeping infant in her arms anyways. Sansa looked down and stared at him. He had plump cheeks, a mass of dark curly hair and long eyelashes. He was a beautiful baby. She knew she should be filled with love and awe, and yet as she looked at the boy she felt nothing but despair.

"I'll fail you too," she whispered to him. The boy stirred at the sound of her voice and attempted to nuzzle into her. She moved him away from her slightly and this caused him to wake. His lip trembled and then he opened his eyes and gazed at her and Sansa found herself staying into Jon's grey eyes. And with that her already fractured heart shattered into a million pieces.

"Take him," she cried out to the nurses as tears started to stream down her face.

"We thought you'd want to feed -,"

"I said take him!" She was becoming hysterical now. She needed them to take him. He was too perfect and his proximity to her was going to doom him, why could they not understand that? Everyone she loved died, if her son was to have a chance they had to get him away from her.

The nurses stared at her in shock. The baby had begun to wail as well and Sansa was holding him up as an offering, pleading with them through her tears to take him. Roslin rushed in the room then, pushed passed the nurses and took the boy from Sansa and began to soothe him. Sansa collapsed back against the pillows and sobbed.

"Please take the baby back to the nursery," Roslin said to the nurses once she had soothed him. She handed a now quieted Jon to one of them. They exchanged another alarmed look but left as requested. Roslin shut the door after them and then came to Sansa's bed and sat on the edge and stroked her hair in an attempt to calm her.

"It can be overwhelming, I know. But I'll help you."

"It's not that. I'm no good for him, I can't love him."

For the first time Roslin seemed shocked. She stopped stroking her hair and looked at her carefully. "Sansa, you said…. The father, you said he didn't make you, but if that's –"

"No, no, that's not it. I told you, I loved him and he loved me, but he's dead Ros. He's dead, Arya's dead, they both died because I loved them and they loved me. Don't you see, that boy is doomed if I love him. I can't allow that, I just can't. He doesn't deserve to die because of me…. Everyone dies because of me." Sansa dissolved into hysterical sobs again.

"Oh Sansa. That's just not true."

She couldn't respond to that but she knew her aunt was wrong. She hadn't been there, she hadn't seen the trail of bodies that she had left on Oakenshield. Sansa vowed then that her son would not be added to that trail, even if it meant she could never love him.

Author's note: Jon's letter to Sansa is greatly inspired by and pulls some lines from the Kodaline song "All I Want" - amazing song - go listen to!