an: i'm very aware of how buckwild this chapter is but bear with me, pls. it's just fanfiction, i'm just trying to writeeee.
The days became a strange mix for Sansa, a private world for just her and the one in the castle. After the sickness passed, it was easy to hide her condition-a lady's dress was always meant to flatter the figure, and conceal the stomach. In front of Arya, in front of her subjects and peers and staff, she was ever the calm and generous Lady Stark, seeing to this and that, answering any and all questions. But in her quarters, early in the mornings and late at night, everything changed.
She stood nude in front of her full-length mirror, examining the changes in her body. Sam said she was just at three months; her body remained slender, but...her breasts were tender and swollen, and her belly felt strange. There was hardly what could be called a 'bump' at this point, but Sansa knew her body. She knew it was there. Her hands stroked the subtle curve. Her flesh felt warm and taut. Again, the princess felt a deep longing to have had more time with her mother, to have asked her the questions she longed to know the answers to. You're not alone, she reminded herself. She had Sam, who was excellent and very informed. She had her sister and her brother here. You have everyone you need.
Though, that wasn't true. Her Hound was leagues and leagues away from her, fighting terrors almost unimaginable to her. Almost, had she not seen them with her own eyes. His letters to her did not fill her with hope-in fact, it was very difficult to maintain the presence she needed to keep the hold running. Sansa didn't have a choice, however, if they were to survive the winter. You can't let them know. If the people got any word of the desolate situation in the North, they would feel as broken as Sansa did.
She dreaded sleep. It was hard to control her dreams right now-because of her pregnancy? She couldn't say for sure, but it was all a swirl of feeling and color that left her dizzy and terrified. Oh, how Sansa wished she could see Sandor during these torrents, but for some reason they never brought her close enough. Just the sight of him would ease her fears. His letters were the only proof that he was still alive.
A sudden chill. Sansa shivered, crossed her arms over her breasts as goosepimples shot over her skin. Was there a ghost, or a bad omen trailing through the air? She turned to grab for a robe when she saw the man standing next to the window, eyes transfixed on her naked body.
"Lady Stark, it has certainly been a few years since I saw you," he intoned. Sansa inhaled to let out a shriek but it froze in her throat when she recognized who stood before her.
"S-Ser Jaime?" she stuttered out, too in shock now to continue reaching for her robe. "H-h-how did you-"
"Brute! Turn your back like a proper knight!" spat out another familiar voice, and Sansa watched in amazement as Brienne of Tarth climbed in through her open window, panting from the exertion. "My lady, forgive us for intruding so late into the night. But I-" The tall woman flipped Jaime's cloak over his head as she walked towards Sansa, who finally gained the mind to start for her robe again. "-come with strange and urgent summons."
"Summons?" the princess repeated, cinching the tie at her waist just in time for Jaime to struggle from underneath his cloak. "Surely it must be someone strange, to demand an audience at the hour of the wolf. Who?"
"There's no way to be delicate about it," Jaime said, watching Brienne struggle to answer. "Just tell her."
"Ah... Very well. My lady, I shall just be blunt. Please, listen carefully to all I have to say."
Sansa clung to Brienne's back as they rode hard away from Winterfell, trying not to let the warrior feel her shivering. It was barely the cold that registered, though, and more what lay ahead of her that caused her quivers.
Her mother had become some sort of...monster. This "Lady Stoneheart" had the brotherhood without banners bewitched, following her up and down the countryside, killing anyone they thought had a drop of loyalty to the Lannisters or Freys. A man, a priest of some sort, had breathed life into her and died in exchange. Her poor mother had been found washed up on the shore, after the Freys had dumped her corpse in the Trident. Gray, lifeless, the bone of her throat visible. Silently, Sansa allowed a few tears to escape her eyes at the thought, knowing Brienne could not hear or see her. How she must have suffered, and how she must be suffering now.
It seemed like a cruel joke, but Sansa knew enough to know the dead could be brought back to life. It stabbed her heart with pain to think of her mother's beautiful eyes, now cold and dull, and her warm arms stiff and unwelcoming.
Brienne had been taken by the brotherhood, who noticed the lion's head on her pommel. Their ghoulish leader had demanded to know whether the lady of Tarth's loyalties remained with her or to Jaime Lannister, the man she loved, the man who had given her that sword. Brienne could not choose. How could she? A woman as good as she was could never choose a life over another, even if she loved them. They were all about to be put to the sword when Brienne cried out Sansa's name. It was enough to still Stoneheart's fury, for just enough time to explain. Brienne swore to all of them that Jaime was a true knight who had vowed to protect Sansa and deliver her home, and that he had fulfilled his vows (Sansa furrowed her brow at this, as technically it was not true, but she kept quiet). Both her daughters and even Brandon Stark still lived, and better, they sat the seats of their ancestral home. The Lannisters and Freys were scattered to the winds, now that Cersei was dead, and now that a Targaryen sat the Iron Throne once more. Lady Stoneheart did not know this. Her mind was only halfway there, in the fog between life and death. They demanded proof. They sent the two out and kept Podrick, the squire, as a hostage.
"I knew you would come willingly, my lady," Brienne said earlier. "You know what is right to do."
What did she mean by that? Did she intend to kill this Lady Stoneheart? Even knowing it was not really her mother, she could not help but cling to Brienne's cloak tightly. Sansa had grieved Catelyn Stark before; would she have to start that journey all over again? She was not sure she could bear it, not now. Not with her grandchild growing inside of her. The princess wept a little bit more to herself. You cannot cry in front of them. Be strong. Show them that House Stark's future is secure.
They were approaching what looked like a small cave system-firelight poured out from the entrance, and the slight sound of music drifted down towards them. It seemed too welcoming a sight for what she knew dwelled within. Brienne and Jaime dismounted from their horses; her escort held a hand out to Sansa and she slid down, careful not to expose herself. They walked their horses in hand the rest of the way up the hill, and tied them off near the entrance with another few pretty paints, grazing contently on grass growing on the cliffs.
Sansa took a deep breath and led the way into the cave, knowing she needed to be seen. And they did see her, immediately. The music ceased, all conversation stopped, and no noise was heard besides the crackling of the fire. Taking another breath, she called out in a clear voice, "I have come as commanded. I am Sansa Stark, Princess in the North, Lady of Winterfell. Show yourself...Lady Stoneheart."
She glided forth like a whisper made into flesh. The brotherhood parted the way for her in reverence, and it sent shivers up Sansa's spine to see their mesmerized gazes. They truly believed their god had sent her to them. But she was a mistake, it was so plain to see. If their god had been kind, it would have mended her throat and allowed her to speak, it would have cured the rot of her flesh and made her new. No, she was barely held together, and it was barely a soul inside of her. Do not cry.
"I am alive. Arya is alive. Bran is alive. Jon is alive. They tried to take Winterfell from us, but we took it back." Sansa willed herself to speak, willed herself to stare the creature directly in the eyes, forcing her words to cross the distance between them. "I am with child. Once my son is born, the next generation of Starks begins. Please..." The princess swept her arm back towards Brienne and Jaime, who had been restrained and forced to their knees once they entered. "I owe my life to many people, including these two. Winterfell stands today because of their collective efforts. You cannot kill based on loose connections! That makes you no better than murderers and raiders. You inspire fear instead of hope! You cannot stray so far from your purpose!" She planted her feet and faced the corpse of her mother. "Do not follow this false prophet of revenge. Inside of that body, there is only courseless anger and hatred. I loved my mother, and I know she is barely there. There is...nothing of her compassion there. Only her grief."
Sansa barely knew what she was saying, only that they were the right words. The men around her were muttering and shooting glances at Lady Stoneheart. She knew what she had to do next. She crossed the few feet it took to stand in front of her, and took her icy hands in her own. Oh, she wanted to gag and shiver and sob so badly, but the Lady of Winterfell, the wolf woman, looked unblinking into Catelyn Stark's glazed eyes. "Depart from this body, and let it rest. Please, let it lay in the crypts below Winterfell next to its children and husband, where it belongs. Let me take my mother back home."
It was almost instant. Something like a sigh escaped through the blue lips and the slit across her throat, and her knees crumpled under themselves. The flicker of life left her, and Sansa held her mother's corpse in her arms as the brotherhood around her started arguing in the confusion. The man holding Brienne and Jaime had enough sense to release the two; they rushed over to her, helping her get Catelyn's body off of the ground.
"Wait!" A dirty man garbed in red cried out, reaching for Sansa, but Brienne drew her sword quickly and stepped between them. "You-you can't just leave with her-"
"From what I understand, the Lord Eddard Stark sent you out to enact justice on those who deserved it. My father, the most honorable man I ever knew. Now, I have only heard stories of you murdering innocents, stealing what is not yours." Sansa spat the words out, clutching her dead mother. "You besmirched my father's good name and you sought to do the same with my mother's for your own wicked wants. No, I am taking her body where it has always belonged. And you are to leave these lands, never to return. If I receive even a whisper that the Brotherhood has crossed the Trident, I will feed you to the wolves myself."
The man in red yelled in rage and reached again for Sansa; without thought, Brienne's sword swiped through the air and cut off his arm at the shoulder. Blood sprayed dramatically from the wound, and some of it spattered onto Sansa's skirt. It was enough for the cave to descend into chaos. Suddenly there was fighting all around, Brienne and Jaime doing their best to keep Sansa and Catelyn's body safe from the mob-Sansa squeezed her eyes shut, felt the pulse of her heart in her teeth, and knew she could save them all.
Come to me. I need you. She slipped out of her flesh for just a second, just to touch the crown of the head of the shewolf, just to breathe in her ear. Protect us.
Sansa knew they were never too far. It was only a brief moment before she heard the howls, and heard the scratch of claws against the stones around her. She kept her eyes closed, concentrating harder than she had ever before in her life, keeping those words in the wolves ears. Protect us, protect us. Soon, it all became quiet again, only the fire sending the occasional spark into the air.
When she opened her eyes, the shewolf was poised at the entrance of the cave, her concentration on Sansa only. Their eyes met. Again, that strange incline of the head, like a bow, like an acknowledgement that they were the same. This time, Sansa returned the gesture, knowing that Brienne and Jaime were staring at her in awe. The creature turned and bounded away after its pack, leaving a bloody mess behind her.
"...Well, it seems more about you has changed than just your figure, my lady," Jaime murmured. "You've become quite...mysterious."
Sansa stood. "There are many mysteries in this world; I would not dare to claim to be one of them. Come, we must return before dawn. We have much to tell everyone."
It was an arduous journey. The storms surrounding Winterfell had only grown stronger as the night passed, and their addition of the late Lady Stark slowed them down. The sun had already breached the horizon by the time they reached the castle-there was no sneaking in now, everyone was awake. Once Sansa was spotted, trumpets blared and people shouted, no doubt to inform everyone of her return. The gates were swung open and there was already an entourage of staff waiting. I am in trouble, Sansa thought, feeling very tired. She had much explaining to do, but felt she could barely get off the horse without help. In fact, she didn't think she could make it up the stairs to her quarters-
Her vision faded to black before anything else could cross her mind.