Lord Umber was very much still a proud warrior and lord of his keep and lands. He rode out and travelled frequently to hear complaints and settle disputes of his commons who could not come to him in his hall, and he patrolled his lands with his own garrison. The Smalljon never rode out together with him anymore: since the war, one always stayed at Last Hearth to rule as lord of the keep. There were more wildlings fleeing South it seemed, and they would not risk the deaths of both the current lord and his heir, at least not together; so when one returned the other then left. Little or nothing frightened an Umber of Last Hearth but the line of succession mattered to a great house and so they have conceded to this one precaution.

Her two near-successive pregnancies meant that Sansa rarely rode out with her lord husband either. She wished sadly for her direwolf Lady, certain that if she had her company she would not feel so very alone and unhappy. Instead she remained at Last Hearth with the children of his first marriage. She sat and sewed with his daughters until they soon left home: one to be wed and the younger to join her sister's household; and so Sansa sewed alone in her chamber or in the solar, often taking her meals alone as well. Her good-sons were kind to her but more interested in sparring and riding and rarely sat with her; but when they did, she had become more conscious of her eldest good-son's stare, and though he sometimes looked away when she caught him, he always resumed staring.

She was visiting her children in their nursery one afternoon when he joined them unexpectedly. He was good to her children and her son adored his big brother and held his arms out to him to be picked up.

"Smaw-jah," the boy gushed happily. The Smalljon picked up young Eddard and swung him around with a hearty laugh. He sat him across his hip and then bowed his head to Sansa.

"My lady," he began, "he is the image of an Umber but he has your hair."

She blushed slightly. "Your father says so as well; he told me that the wildlings say that those with red hair are 'kissed by fire'."

"I have heard the same," he replied, looking at her steadily. She dropped her eyes. "My lady, I fear you have been much confined since you have been at Last Hearth, and it has made you melancholy-"

"You are too kind, Lord Jon," she replied quickly and politely, without meeting his eyes. "Please be assured that I am perfectly well."

"Forgive me then, my lady. Still, you have not seen all of the castle and its surrounds, and we will soon be snowed in for a long winter…or so say the maesters. If you would care to join me, it would please me to show you more of your home."

Perhaps it was the mention of Last Hearth as her home and the long winter to come that made her yearn for company, but she agreed and the next day rode out to the south through the forest and along the Last River with the Smalljon and a retinue of guardsmen. He told her his father would not forgive him for taking her outside the walls without proper protection. On their ride, he recounted to her some of the history of House Umber including how the Umbers and Starks had defeated Raymun Redbeard, a King-beyond-the-Wall. He told her stories of ice fishing on the river with his father, and campaign stories from his time as part of Robb's personal guard. Over the next days he took her to remote parts of the castle, and up to the walls to look out at the Umber lands. Finally, after guards and retainers slipped away one by one to other duties, he stopped on the north wall that looked out towards the Gift and the Wall beyond and stared out contentedly.

"Forgive me for staring so long, my lady, but I love these lands. I expect they seem very barren and isolated to you, coming from Winterfell; but I think they are beautiful, and I love to look at beauty," he turned to her now.

Sansa paused, uncertain of how she should answer. "Of course, Lord Jon; that is understandable," she managed to say. "This is your home."

"This is your home as well now, my lady; but it does not make you happy."

He knows. "I- I- I was a very long time away from my family, Lord Jon, and I missed them very much. I only wish that I could have spent more time with them when I returned North."

Now he paused before replying to her. "Of course, my lady; that is understandable." Then he held out his hand to her. "May I show you the north tower?"

She took his hand and followed into the tower and down the winding stairs to an empty room.

"The north tower is empty. It is coldest in winter, and so is kept only for stores, though they have never filled to the top rooms. But when I am lord, I shall make use of this room someday, if only to come and look out towards the far North." He led her to a narrow window, more of an arrow slit, and she stood beside him and looked out at the endless stretch of what seemed to her to be a vast emptiness.

"It is lovely," she said dutifully.

He sighed. "My lady…I wish that you were happy."

Sansa turned to him to protest but when she met his eyes and saw his kindness she felt suddenly weary, weary of courtesy and of pretending and of lying. I thought I was done with pretending, she thinks now and something inside her breaks and she feels like a girl and not a lady.

"I- I wish I were happy too," she answers and her voice is hoarse and whispery. She catches her breath to realize what she has said and turns sharply away from him but he stops her by her arm and pulls her to him and she begins to cry. "Forgive me," she says as she tries to compose herself and she looks up at him to see what damage she has caused to herself for speaking honestly. But instead of scorn and insult, he looks tenderly on her and before she is aware he is kissing her softly, just brushing his lips on hers but when she does not resist he takes her in his arms and kisses her deeply. She weakens into his kiss and returns it before she breaks away and pushes herself from him in horror.

"We mustn't," she breathes.

He looks stricken. "I know," is all he replies but still he holds out the arms that held her. She realizes that she wants to be back in those arms.

Sansa turns and stumbles to the door and flees as quickly as she can.

More days pass and her husband has still not returned. He has sent a raven to announce that he has been delayed but does not say why. Sansa paces restlessly in her chamber, fearful of venturing out where she can be seen and certain that anyone looking at her will know her failure as a lady. She has her children brought to her and she loves her children so very much: her little auburn-haired son who will not part with his wooden sword even in his sleep and her tawny-haired baby girl who smiles so sweetly when Sansa sings, and so she only reluctantly lets the nurse take them away for naps. She cannot concentrate to sew, or read, or practice her harp. Every time she picks it up, she wants to dash it against the wall. She leaves to find the maester and ask for some potion to help her sleep but instead she finds herself at the bottom of the winding stairs of the north tower staring up past all the storerooms to the door of the top closed room.

Tentatively, silently, she creeps her way up the stairs and into the room. She is unsure if she is disappointed or relieved that he is not there. It is an empty tower room, stupid girl; why should he be here? She gazes out the window where she had stood with him and feels an emptiness she has not known since her days in the Red Keep. Even then I had hope; now I am a prisoner of my own making for wanting what I cannot possibly ever have.

She turns forlornly to leave and he is there, in the doorway watching her with a disbelieving surprise. Sansa wrings her hands helplessly and can offer no explanation.

"I…I-"

"I could not stay away either…my lady."

She takes one fateful step towards him and he closes the distance between them before she can take another. She is in his arms and he is kissing her hungrily as she kisses him back. He starts to plant sweet kisses on her forehead, her eyelids and down her neck and she trembles and her eyes fill with tears.

"No," she sobs quietly even as she clings to his arms around her.

"I know," he murmurs, and still he kisses her and she kisses him back. Her heart is beating so hard she thinks it may burst and she cannot feel her knees; she fears if he lets go of her that she will sink to the floor and simply die.

The sound of cries and shouts and of the gate opening and the pounding of hooves can be heard in the north tower and he lets her go. She looks up at him questioningly and he only nods.

"Go now, my lady."

She goes. Sansa runs around the long way through the castle hallways until she reaches the great hall and then walks with measured steps out into the yard to see the Greatjon clad in his heavy furs and looking over his massive shoulder up to the keep. She fears that he has seen them but the tower room is on the north side and not visible from the yard and so-

"My lord," she calls in greeting and she curtseys when he sees her. He is standing with his son, who has taken a quicker route to the yard, and she is struck to see them together now: so alike and yet so very different, she knows.

"Forgive me," she tells him, "I was abed-" She stops short and tries to think quickly. Had anyone seen her leave her chamber? Would she be caught lying?

He smiles delightedly, his eyes above his beard in his ruddy face twinkle brightly. "Now, now, there is nothing to forgive, Sansa; we were not even certain that we would arrive home this day." He hugs her with his huge arms and the weapons he is wearing jingle and clank when he releases her. "Besides, abed is how I like to think of you best," he growls near her ear.

She forces herself to ignore that the Smalljon is near and smiles dutifully. "Yes, my lord."