Sansa sinks to her knees next to the chair as her legs give out beneath her. She shakes her head without thinking.
"No, please," she pleads softly.
"Mother?"
"Eddard: fetch your brother…and the maester, quickly." Sansa tells him without turning to look at him.
"What's wrong-" he begins.
Now she turns on him suddenly: "Go, Eddard! Hurry!"
When she turns back, she looks upon her husband's face and lifts a trembling hand to his beard. "Please, my lord, my love: stay with us…stay, my Greatjon," she whispers hoarsely. She moves her hand from his beard to his chest and rests it atop his heart through the quilted wool tunic he has worn instead of his furs since Spring came. Sansa had begun to embroider some of them with his sigil. She presses her forehead into his shoulder. "No…"
She feels heavy and empty all at once, too stunned to feel pain or anything but disbelieving shock. She does not want to move, or breathe, or see: she does not think that she wants to feel anything ever again from this moment, for everything from this moment will be without him. It cannot be true: how can a man so strong and alive be gone? But then she feels a firm hand on her own shoulder.
"My lady," Lord Jon says gently. "My lady, I am sorry."
Sansa breathes in a great quavering breath and lifts her head to him. She sees that he is not looking at her but looks at his father with a sad and heavy countenance and so he must have been standing over him for some moments. When he withdraws his hand from her shoulder it is to pass it over his father's face, closing his eyes forever. She clutches her hands over her mouth and shakes and shakes until finally her own eyes fill and spill over with hot tears that stream down her cheeks. She hears footsteps behind her that slow and stop suddenly.
"Mother?' her son inquires uncertainly.
His brother replies. "Father is gone, Eddard. We must be brave now, and honour him as befits the Lord of House Umber and the Last Hearth. Comfort your mother now," he prompts him firmly.
When her son turns to her, she sees the loss and pain in his eyes and opens her arms to him to hold him close. "My sweet boy," she tells him, "your father loved you so much and was so proud of you. We- we must be strong," she stammers though she does not feel strong but helpless but she must comfort her children who will look to her for reassurance now. "We must be as strong as your father. We must make him proud, still."
Eddard sets his chin firmly to stop it trembling and he nods resolutely even as his eyes water. "Y-yes, Mother," he states shakily yet despite his resolve she feels him rest his head on her shoulder when she embraces him; she reaches to smooth his thick hair and kisses his cheek.
"Milady, I have brought Lady Serena," she hears Berena says somberly. When Sansa looks, Serena's pretty face is hard with hurt and anger and so she knows that her daughter had been told her father is dead.
"Serena, my little bird…" Sansa begins as she holds out her hand to her.
"NO!" She runs to her father and tries to throw her arms around him. "No, Da, no!" She wails and sobs and clings to him until both Sansa and Lord Jon must pull her away.
"Sister, little sister, be brave-" Smalljon counsels her gently.
"NO!" she screams and strikes him high on his chest with her closed fist. "I want Da always!"
"Serena! Serena, come," Sansa pleads as she pulls her thrashing daughter to her. "Your father would want you to be brave. I want him always too, little bird, but that cannot be now. Hush now. Sh." Sansa rocks and soothes her though she wishes to scream and cry as Serena does. "I know you love him; he loved you, my little bird, he loved you so much," she kisses her head and holds her closer still until her fight has left her and only her sobbing remains. "You are his little Umber girl, Serena, and so you must be brave. Shh…"
When she looks up again, Sansa sees the maester is standing behind Lord Jon, and that Lyanna stands next to Berena and that she rests one hand on her swollen belly as she wipes away tears with the other. Uncle Hother stands as still as stone with a grim face and cold eyes: the face of a man who has lost many and is left behind with his silent grief. In the doorway are maids and servants and soldiers: the young have looks of sadness tinged with shock and confusion while the older men are resigned and respectful and determined. They know what needs be done. They all seem to be looking back at her.
"My lady you have the sympathy and condolences of all at Last Hearth," the maester tells her solemnly and sincerely. "When you agree," he intones delicately, "they will begin preparing Lord Umber for his vigil."
Sansa stares and then swallows her pain and grief. She is the Lady of Last Hearth, and her life is not her own nor is her lord. She must do her duty to him and to all as is expected of her. She scrubs her cheeks with the back of her hand and releases her child.
"Stand with Eddard, Serena," she whispers to her firmly and her daughter obeys vacantly as her brother takes her hand and helps her to her feet. Sansa stands as well now, slowly and wearily; and then she lifts her chin determinately.
"I thank you all for your assistance and your kindness at…at this…this most unhappy time. My-my lord watched over us all at Last Hearth; I trust that you will all do the same for him now," she tells them in a quavering voice.
The young ginger-haired soldier, who is not so young anymore Sansa sees now, steps forward and bows his head formally and respectfully. He then turns to Lord Jon. "My lord?" he addresses him.
"Take him to the maester's and prepare him for the Great Hall. Let the garrison and the people of Last Hearth gather and stand vigil for their lord, Greatjon Umber," his son and heir commands. Soldiers step into the solar now and Sansa drops her eyes and gathers her children to her side. She cannot bear to look at them handle him and carry him away; it is bad enough that she can hear the chair scrape against the hardwood floor and the grunts and heavy breaths of the soldiers as they lift him to carry him to the maester's sick chambers to be stripped and washed and dressed again to lie atop a table in the Great Hall under the banners of his house. Instead she turns her head to Berena and Lyanna.
"Oh, Sansa, I am so sorry," Lyanna whispers to her. "I loved him like a father; and I know that you cared for him-"
"I love him," Sansa counters shortly. "Berena may I ask your assistance please?' she asks hoarsely. "Will you take the children to be dressed properly and send someone for the garb to dress my lord and then send my maid to help me dress myself?" she says dully. "We must all stand vigil with the family this night."
"Yes, milady," the older woman assures her. "Come now, Serena and Eddard," she says gently.
When she returns to her chambers; mine, not ours anymore, she thinks, she goes straight to his chest of clothing and brings out the brown quilted tunic he had worn when he had first met her in the yard at Last Hearth.
Forgive me, Sansa: forgive an old man for falling tumble-down in love with a pretty young girl and her proud seat on a horse.
He had loved her from that moment, she remembers him telling her; how she wished that she could go back to that moment and start over. She would love him as he had loved her, and they would have years together and mayhaps more children. A sob escapes from her and her eyes fill again.
Stop that now, she upbraids herself harshly. You must do your duty now as Lady of Last Hearth: your last duty to him. She remembers how proud he was of her in his hall, when they greeted guests or held audiences for commons and the night they stood vigil for Umber soldiers. Now his soldiers will stand vigil for him, and I with them.
Her maid comes to help her dress, and she chooses her darkest blue wool gown ornamented with black embroidery with grey undershirt and skirts. She has the older woman braid her hair tightly and tie the end with a simple leather cord. How he loved my hair, she thinks and then wonders at her maid's reaction if she were to ask her to cut it all off to forestall her from tearing it out in handfuls in her grief.
"Will ye not be takin' a shawl to th'hall, m'lady? T'will grow cold right quick with the doors open to th'commons, m'lady."
"Commons?" Sansa asks absently.
"Aye, m'lady: they's been gatherin' in th'yard since word spread to th'village. They be sayin' th'inn emptied a'men right quick and folks joined along as they made their way to th'Hearth, m'lady."
"That…that is kind," she whispers, and she nods when her maid holds up a dark grey shawl for her approval and wraps it around her shoulders. Then her maid walks to the door when a knock sounds and opens it to Lord Jon. He has changed into a dark brown tunic with red sleeves and wears his swordbelt and cloak thrown back over his wide shoulders.
"Forgive me, my lady, but some men from the village guilds have been brought up to the solar. They wish to pay their respects. Would you care to join us, or-"
"Thank you, Lord Jon…forgive me," she says wanly, "Lord Umber," she corrects herself now.
He stiffens. "My lady until my lord father is in the crypt, he is Lord Umber…and you are Lady Umber, if it please you."
She nods sadly. "Thank you," she acknowledges his kindness though she heart wrings to think of her husband in the crypt below Last Hearth. So cold, so dark. She stands and follows him to the solar, and when she enters all the men turn and bow and they murmur their sympathies to her awkwardly before offering respectful words to Lord Jon about his father. Once they have left, Eddard and Serena are brought in by Berena. Sansa's son wears a swordbelt for the first time outside the training yard, and a brown cloak over his tunic. Serena's hair is pulled into a tight knot and she wears a high-necked brown wool dress and green undershirt under a knitted brown lamb's wool shrug. Her eyes are hollow and red-rimmed from crying and her pretty pink mouth is downturned and quivering. Sansa kneels before them now.
"The leader of the garrison will come to bring us down to the Great Hall where we will stand vigil for your father. I know you will both be brave and strong for him, and for House Umber."
The older soldier who escorted them North with the Thenns comes to the doorway of the solar.
"My lords, my ladies," he addresses them with a heavy solemnity, "it is time."
The Great Hall is ablaze with lights and crowded with people, some silent and some crying. The Greatjon lies on a large table with his hands folded to hold the pommel of his tremendous greatsword on his chest and the blade pointed down the long length of his body. Great red banners with the sigil of a roaring giant breaking his chains adorn the walls and hang from the smoke-blackened rafters. Sansa walks with the children as each holds her by the hand, and they pause before the body of the Greatjon. Sansa leans to kiss his face reverently.
"May the gods grant him rest," she speaks softly but is heard throughout the hall.
"May the gods grant him rest," many there repeat.
They come now to stand at the head of the table next to Lord Jon; Lyanna will not appear in the hall when so great with child since she would not be able to stand. There is a great creaking of doors heard and a strong draft from the entrance into the Great Hall and that make the torches and candle flames all waver and cast dancing shadows about the walls and over people's faces.
People from the village and the closest crofts file by the table and bow their heads to the family while women curtsey and dab at their eyes with the corners of their shawls or aprons. The hours pass with naught to be heard but the crackle of the fires in the great hearths, the shuffling of many feet and the whispered comments, respectful and personal, of those who pass. Sansa feels the many eyes on her and her children and hears the murmurs of so young and so beautiful and poor children, and she feels Eddard bristle and sees his posture stiffen. She lets go of his hand and places her own on his shoulder. Serena sniffles and cries softly with her head bowed and Sansa holds her small hand tighter and fights back her own tears. When her daughter begins to droop and yawn, Berena steps forward with a soldier to wrap her in a blanket and carry her to bed. It is almost the hour of the owl when two of her husband's massive brothers arrive with their equally massive sons from their small tower keeps near Long Lake and the Lonely Hills respectively. They push through the crowds of smallfolk to bow their heads and embrace their new lord; then they greet young Eddard and finally pay their respects to Sansa. They address her as Lady Sansa and she nods politely and without reproach for despite Lord Jon's courtesy towards her, his wife Lyanna is now the Lady Umber of Last Hearth. Finally they take their places behind the heir and join the vigil.
It is just past the hour of the wolf when Eddard stumbles and his brother whispers to him and pats his back. Her son then quietly wishes her good night and leaves dragging his feet and nearly staggering from fatigue. Well past the hour of the nightingale there are no more visitors and the doors leading to the yard are closed though those from the Great Hall are still open. Soldiers come and go to replace those on watch. Finally Sansa steps closer to Lord Jon.
"Lord Jon, might I beg a moment alone with…with my lord?" she asks.
"The vigil is not ended," her husband's youngest brother has overheard her request. "It is not right that he should be left unattended." He looks reproachfully at her.
Sansa is too tired to accept this chastisement or to relent. "My lord," she begins shakily, "they will soon take my lord and husband to the crypts and I shall never look on him again. Surely I do not ask too much-"
Lord Jon raises his hand to soothe her before casting a strong glance at his uncle to silence him. Then he looks around the hall and speaks.
"Let every man standing guards retreat ten paces and turn his back; the rest of you please join me in the rear of the hall and leave Lady Umber her privacy."
"I thank you," Sansa tells him.
"Take such time as you need, my lady," he tells her and walks away.
Sansa approaches the table where her husband lies and attempts to accept that she will soon never look upon him again. She needs bite her lip to keep from crying out in anguish and quickly wipes away the tears that have welled up in her eyes. She leans close to him now and speaks from her heart.
"I am sorry… for all that I did and did not do for you, for any harm that I have caused. I- I did not know…and so I did not realize all that you had done for me. You gave me all that I had ever truly wanted: a home in the North, a family of my own, and love: you loved me for myself and who I am. You protected me, and you taught me, and you waited patiently for me to grow up and to love you back. And that was the greatest gift I could have ever had…"
She sniffles again and takes a deep breath. "We never got to go to Long Lake…to swim…I thought we had years-" her voice breaks again and she needs stop for a moment.
"M-my love…my love, I- I have something for you," she says quietly as she reaches into her pocket. She retrieves the small leather pouch that he had worn to the Wall. It has been twined around her bedpost since he gave it back to her; but now she reaches to fasten in around his neck.
"I- I gave you my heart for safekeeping once…do you remember? I wrote you that I would not have need of it without you…and that it would die of loneliness," she squeaks out hoarsely. "I am entrusting it to you again, my love, my Greatjon…only this time you will not be able to bring it back to me. Take my heart with you, my love, and keep it close forever, for I shall not have need of it again in this world." She sobs softly now and caresses his beard with her hand as she leans to gently kiss his lips one last time. She does not linger there; she cannot bear to think that he has gone cold.
"Goodbye, my love. Sweet, sweet rest be granted to you. I shall think of you always. I shall love you always…and so will our children. We will never forget you, my Greatjon."
Sansa bows her head and lets herself cry quietly for a moment before gathering herself and raising her eyes again. She looks to the back of the hall and nods to Lord Jon who approaches the table again.
"I- Forgive me but I do not think that I can bear to see them put him in his coffin; nor do I wish for the children to see. I will go to wake them and to prepare them. Might I ask that you send for us when it is done? We will follow from the hall to the crypt with him," she requests humbly.
"It shall be as you say, my lady. I do not wish for you or the children to suffer any further pain," he hesitates now. "Is there aught else that may be done for you, my lady?"
Sansa is at a loss. There is only one thing I want, and I can never have it now. "There is not, Lord Jon. I - Iam grateful for all your kindness, to me and to the children."
He nods his acknowledgment of her words and turns back to stand over his father's corpse.
Sansa takes one long, last look at her husband and closes her eyes. Then she bows her head and turns and, with her hands folded together before her, she walks slowly from the Great Hall, leaving her heart behind.