The Great Hall is warm and noisy and smoky and Sansa sits at table between Arya and her good-sister, Queen Roslin. There are platters of roasted meats and vegetables and loaves of bread at each table; and servants circulate with pitchers of ale and flagons of wine. The many dogs gnaw on bones thrown to them beneath the tables. Sansa is surprised by what she considers careless wastefulness during winter but she knows it is not her place to remark on it. Instead, she listens to Arya recount how her direwolf returned to Winterfell.
"It should not surprise me that she should have survived so long in the Riverlands: there was always game and, sadly, many corpses to eat, I am sure," Sansa tells her.
"Men are meat too," Arya retorts quickly, "she hunted with other wolves: they were a pack, though she lead them, of course."
Sansa looks at her oddly. "You cannot know this, Arya; certainly she did not tell you."
Arya looks levelly at her. "She didn't need to tell me, Sansa; I just know. I used to dream at night that I was hunting with wolves and Nymeria lead them."
"Dreaming that you are hunting with wolves is not the same as being a wolf, surely," Sansa questions her.
Arya fiddles awkwardly with her knife. "She knew I came home," she tells her. "Not a fortnight after I returned to Winterfell, Grey Wind and Summer and Shaggydog set to howling one night. They would not stop; and the guards on the wall reported that there was howling outside the walls as well. She came out of the wolfswood and across the fields under the light of the moon, right to the Hunter's Gate. Robb told them to let Grey Wind loose, and came to wake me. I knew right away, Sansa: I had been dreaming it," she tries to explain, but Sansa can see from her face that there is something that she does not understand. "I asked Robb not to tell you. We all thought you might be hurt…to be the only one without your wolf; Bran especially felt bad for you. He went to the godswood for days after, to ask the gods to send you comfort. Then we heard that you were expecting a baby," she smiles at young Eddard who is sitting next to their mother.
"The Greatjon sent a raven to your mother, to ask if he could send for her when your time came close. She says he was very concerned for you," Queen Roslin adds. "Robb was very pleased that he would show such care for you, Sansa: he wanted very much for you to be loved and protected especially after…after Kings Landing," she hushes her soft voice to speak of Sansa's ordeal. "I- I hope he chose well for you, for you seem happy with your children," she smiles wanly as she looks at young Eddard now. "You are so very fortunate to have given your lord a son. I have prayed to the old gods to have an heir for King Robb-"
Sansa puts her hand over Roslin's now to comfort her. "You will, your grace," she murmurs gently. "There will be time again, when he returns to you. You will see," she smiles encouragingly now, though she has fears of her own about the war beyond the Wall. She glances up to see Theon Greyjoy glowering at her from across the Hall, but he drops his eyes to his cup of ale before turning back to the other men at his table.
"Mother, why is Theon here? And why does he sit with the garrison? Does he lead men North from Winterfell to the Wall?" She in unsettled by the way he looks around the Hall. He is familiar with Winterfell: he was their ward since the age of ten, and so she cannot imagine why he is darting his eyes to look at every person and in every corner.
Her mother sighs unconcernedly. "Theon visits frequently from Pyke. He is Queen Asha's envoy to the North…though I have no idea what his business is this time. Has he said, Roslin? Well, no matter: doubtless it makes him feel important," she dismisses him lightly though she purses her lips in annoyance.
"As long as it makes him feel important enough," Sansa says with a quiet seriousness that makes the others her at her questioningly. "Theon lost everything by reaching for too much, my lord husband has said; and so he does not trust him…nor do I."
"Nor does Jon," Arya replies. "He did not like Theon being at my wedding…but they never did get on: neither felt like true Starks," she glances at her mother now.
Catelyn Stark purses her lips even more tightly and drops her eyes. Roslin leans over towards Sansa now.
"Do…you know…about Jon?"
"Not here," Catelyn cuts her off sharply, "your grace," she adds humbly.
Later in the solar, with only family present, Roslin asks Sansa again about Jon.
"Yes, Jon told me when he stopped at Last Hearth on his way to see you. He had wanted to tell me to my face; and he warned me that Robb had decided that it should remain a family secret, for Jon's protection."
"Yes," Catelyn states now, almost bitterly, "it was all to protect Jon…and Lyanna; it was for them your father had to tell the world that he had a bastard son."
"Surely you must understand, Mother?" Sansa questions her. "Lord Reed said that he had made a promised to Aunt Lyanna as she lay dying; and Father was always a man of his word."
"Yes, he was so honourable that he let the world believe that he was dishonourable…that he had dishonoured me. He let me believe that he had dishoured me, and he brought what I believed to be his bastard into our home to raise with our own children. How in the name of all the gods was I supposed to feel? You all think me the most terrible woman in the world…but my own husband did not trust me enough to tell me the truth; and I did not trust him enough to realize that he was lying," she finishes, but Sansa can see that she is more hurt than angry.
"No. Mother," Sansa reassures her. "You are not terrible: Father meant for you to feel dishoured, and to believe that Jon was his bastard. Had he not…Mother, you know what happened to Rhaegar Targaryen's children."
"I should have known…or I should have realized that it could not be true. I was so blind…and I was angry with him," she laments now.
"You could have accepted Jon anyway-" Arya begins sullenly, but Sansa interrupts her swiftly.
"That's not fair, Arya. Besides, it was safer for him if you…well, if you resented him: it made people not look too closely or ask too many questions. Please do not be so hard and unforgiving with yourself, Mother; not after Father did everything he could to hide the truth from all of us. Even my lord did not guess the truth, though he says he should have known; and he had known Father and Lyanna most of his life. You had only just married Father before he had needed take leave of you to fight and then was gone nearly a year; he was a stranger to you, and so you could not have known any differently. And Father scarcely knew you either: if you could have known or guessed the truth than anyone else could have…King Robert could have guessed," she tells her pointedly now. "Father would not take that risk with his only sister's son. Some secrets are too dangerous and too hurtful to divulge…even to those we love."
Her mother looks at her sadly now, and tries to smile. "You have always been so kind and gentle, Sansa; now you are wise as well, and forgiving. Thank you."
Wise and forgiving, thinks Sansa with her own bitterness, but my lies are not so noble as Father's, nor is the cause of them.
"Sansa, you told the Greatjon? But Robb said it was to be kept a family secret," Arya reminds her.
Sansa lifts her head to look at her. "My husband is my family," she says firmly, "mayhaps in time, you will feel the same way about your husband, sister."
Catelyn defends Sansa in turn now. "Arya, no one is more loyal to King Robb than the Greatjon. You know that well. We can trust him with our lives: all of the Starks can."
Arya responds by rolling her eyes and moving to a window seat, leaving Sansa alone with her mother near the hearth.
"Thank you, Mother," Sansa whispers gratefully.
Her mother seems to watch her carefully now. "Forgive me, Sansa, but I cannot help but think that you care very much for him now."
"He is my husband," Sansa replies simply.
"I know that, Sansa, but that is not what I asked you. You did not love him when you were wed, and not after your son was born," she tells her levelly. "I do not judge you in saying so; for I felt the same way towards my husband once. Like you, I did my duty and married where I was told; but I came to love your father, as you well know. I would be very happy to know that the same has happened for you," she waits for Sansa to reply.
"Is…is that what you hoped, Mother?" Sansa asks her.
"Yes…it is the same for Arya, as well-"
Sansa stiffens at her reply. "No, Mother….it is not the same for Arya. Arya was older than I was when she married, and she was able to live in Winterfell again before being wed."
Catelyn draws a sharp breath now. "Arya was still a girl when she returned home; you were a young woman grown and flowered. Had Renly not taken the throne, they would have wed you to Joffrey…or some other Lannister in hopes of claiming Winterfell and the North through you-"
"But that is not why you and Robb sent me to wed Lord Umber, Mother. I know why you did it: he told me before I came here."
Lady Catelyn drops her eyes now. "He is a good man, Sansa; and he was the only man to speak respectfully of you after…after," she shakes her head.
"He is a good man," Sansa replies, "and a good husband. I only wish I had known why you felt that you had to send me away. I thought that you were ashamed of me, or that you blamed me for the letter I sent from Kings Landing. I thought him my gaoler, the man tasked to hide me away. It was unfair to keep it from me."
"Sansa, how in the name of all the gods could I have asked you if you…if you had been…what would it have changed? The Greatjon would still have agreed to wed you; but no one else would have. My sweet girl: you are so beautiful and have so much love in you; should I have let you live your life unwed and without children, to see you become a septa, or a silent sister?"
"It would have changed how I felt about him; because I thought I had been a but pawn for an alliance or a prize for loyalty to Robb."
"Sansa," her mother retorts sharply, "all noble marriage are for alliance or reward: they are forged for politics or profit. And many high-born girls thought…dishonoured are generally married off to household knights or to very old men, not to the high lord of a castle. Love simply does not enter into it, not at first: that comes later…if you are lucky. It is past time you learned that and forgot your girlish and romantic notions of love from songs and stories; though gods be true, I would have thought your time in Kings Landing would have done that for you. Now we did what we thought best for you, what Robb, your king, thought best for you; and I had hoped that in time you would come to see that. If you feel that we failed you then I am sorry, my girl, but you are the Lady Umber of Last Hearth, wife of the Greatjon and mother to his children; and I suggest you make the best of it," she intones severely.
"As you did with Father?" Sansa counters hurtfully. "Or was there a lie between you that made you guard your heart and question his love for you?" She sniffles back tears now. "I- I do love him…just as much as you loved Father; I only wish I had not wasted so much of our time together feeling sorry for myself, as you did; when now I may lose him forever...as you lost Father."
Sansa turns away suddenly, and drops her face in her hands so as to cover her sudden tears. She has given voice to her worst fear; and any pretense of feeling brave or being dutiful has crumbled with her heartfelt confession.
I have said that I loved him…and it wasn't to him. I should have said it to him. Now I may never have the chance.
She sobs softly at the thought that she has failed him yet again. Then she feels a gentle hand patting her back and the warmth of her mothers' arms around her and the once-familiar scent of her skin and hair as she holds her close.
"Oh, my sweet Sansa, I am so sorry that you are afraid," she soothes her as she rocks her and strokes the auburn hair, the hair she has from her mother. "Your lord is strong and brave and fearless, Sansa. If any man should come back from this fight, it will be him. Be strong, Sansa: I know it is hard, my girl…I know," she repeats solemnly.
Sansa feels ashamed because of course her mother would know. Catelyn Tully Stark had seen her father, her husband and her son ride off to battle; and then her husband had left for Kings Landing and only his bones returned. She remembers how she once wanted to be strong like her lady mother.
"I- I know you do, Mother," she whispers. "I'm sorry. I'll be strong…just like you."