Sansa

She had worried for almost a whole day that Podrick had run away, the day after their night of kissing she'd sought him out but he'd been nowhere. Lord Tyrion had seen him, sent him to a tailor and then he'd vanished. She later found out that Tyrion hadn't just prepared his clothes but had also sent him to an intensive course of protocol with a Maester, a Southern knight and two Stewards. She had smiled when he'd wandered into her solar, he looked exhausted and he'd explained his whereabouts as he sunk uncomfortably into one of her small chairs. He had still been wearing his knights garb.

"You're not my knight anymore." She'd reminded him.

"It was my last day my Grace, I had to show I was taking it seriously." His face had looked so serious as he'd said it and that had made her smile. She'd stood, walked towards him and placed a chaste kiss on his head. "You should go to sleep, there's a lot to be done." She'd whispered before placing a further kiss on his cheek, she had wanted more but he looked so tired and he'd have sat there all night if she'd asked… but she would do this right. This one relationship she would do the way her mother would have wanted "and there'll be no more unchaperoned visits until the wedding." She added as she made to leave, she noted with a small laugh that this almost joking declaration had brought a smile to her noble Pod's face, of course he'd like that.

The wedding took less than two months to organise, while still technically her first wedding it looked to many others as her second, Sansa was wary of rubbing her second union in the faces of the older lords who adhered so strictly to the ways of the old gods, a man could marry as many times as he liked a woman however was not permitted that luxury, usually. She was also keen to avoid frivolous spending in the dead of winter but knew how uplifting a celebration could be to a cold nation and so she had sent out ravens to only her most loyal banner-men and the houses of her family informing them of the union and the feast that would follow, she had new furs sent to the night's watch, a frozen ham each to the hamlets and villages, feasting and celebration had been planned in Winterfell on the day of the union. Sansa had been shocked at how quickly the time had crept up on her, when she found herself only one moon away from her 'big day' as the maids now called it, she wondered if embroidering her own dress had been the best idea.

"Agatha." She called to the girl who was currently serving her ham and milk to break her fast.

"Yes my Grace?" the girl asked, dropping a characteristically clumsy curtsey.

"Your needle work is wonderful, could you help me?" the girl blushed profusely and nodded, before dropping to her knees picking up a needle from the Queen's own basket and threading it. "Just as I've done, repeated down the seam, You see?" she indicated the part she'd already done. She was sewing her indoor dress; the dress she'd wear at the feast. She'd wear her mother's old dress at the Heart tree, it seemed only right, it was faded but beautiful. They'd found it in a chest in the bowels of Winterfell, it was one of the few things not looted. Not that the old clothes were needed, being a new queen offered certain perks she hadn't considered. She had received a steady stream of gifts from across the seven kingdoms and the Free Cities since taking the throne, silks from Lords who wished to be in good graces with a new queen, dresses from tailors who wished her to commission further works and sweet plums from the boat builders in the south, eager to gain a favourable rate on lumber. But nothing had compared to the reaction her sister's return had induced, word had gotten out of the lost princesses return (as they well intended with Arya roaming freely) but Sansa did not confirm anything until the ravens began arriving. Questions, congratulations and salutations came from at first the closer lords but soon from the four corners of the realm and further. Sansa had ordered ravens be sent and riders too, to officially announce the return of princess Arya Stark to her rightful place.

Arya had received more dresses, veils, jewels and furs on her 'official' return than Sansa had received in her entire reign. The queen had been glad of this, Arya had very few items of clothing and even fewer that were fit for public duty, the arrival of the dresses at least gave them some options and then her sweet Lord Tyrion had truly iced the cake with his gift to her sister.

"A maid?" Arya had scoffed when the little man had introduced the bowing girl with impeccable hair.

"Your maid" Tyrion had responded softly, he seemed very keen on getting Arya to like him.

"I don't need a maid" Arya protested loudly which made Sansa frown.

"Your Grace, do you enjoy braiding your hair? Lacing up dresses and storing them? Picking out what to wear? Mending your undergarments?" he asked smugly.

"You know I don't!"

"Well then, meet the solution to all your woes. Her name is Coralline she is from Braavos and is an excellent swordswoman." Tyrion presented the maid again.

"My Grace." The girl bowed again and eyed Arya with some sort of awe.

"Say hello Arya!" Sansa had quipped

"Hello." And that had been that, Arya had a handmaid who she practiced water dancing with more than she preened but at least it was a start, her sister had a new wardrobe and beautiful things and a girl to help her wear them… now all she needed was the husband.

When the dress was done her fingers ached, it was beautiful. She smiled down at Agatha who had tears welling in her doe brown eyes "Are you well Agatha?" Sansa asked with genuine concern.

"My Grace, I am the daughter of a Moles Town whore. Your brother Jon Snow took us in when the wildlings attacked, and when he said I could come South with him… I never dreamed your Grace that I'd be sitting here stitching with the queen on her wedding gown." The girl wiped the tears away quickly, careful that none spill on the dress.

"Agatha, when my brother said he was returning to Winterfell I never dreamed he'd bring with him the best hand maid I've ever known." She smiled kindly and patted the girl, who must have only been a few years younger than her, on the cheek "Now go hang this up, I can hear Maester Tarly panting his way up the stairs. I shall go meet him half way."

"Yes My Grace." Agatha smiled sweetly as she lifted the dress reverentially and walked it to wire dummy where it would stay till the night of the wedding.

Sansa made it down a whole circle of stairs before she met Samwell, he panted unhealthily "My lord Maester you must cut down on the bacon, before your heart cuts down on you." She said not entirely unkindly, it was certainly coming from a place of care. Samwell was used to her chides and ignored them moving directly to the matter at hand.

"Your uncle Edmure is here Grace, he has the Smith with him and wishes an audience with you." Sam did not look pleased at all.

"Is he behaving like a fool?" Sansa asked, she never liked Edmure. She never understood how easily he'd accepted his fate, how foolish he'd been, how utterly inept in battle. She didn't' wait for Sam's reply "I'll deal with him."

When Sansa entered Winter hall she found her uncle ordering a servant to fetch him some wine, his tone was not a kind one and that irked Sansa. Her father had often said, and she wished she'd listened at the time, to judge a man not how he treats his peers but how he treats his staff.

"My lord uncle you look well." She said sweetly, as she swept towards him. Her eyes scanned the room and found a knight, face covered but broader shoulders than she had imagined. She couldn't tell anything else about his shape as he hovered in the corner wrapped in furs, they had just arrived.

"My Grace, my niece, Sansa…" He took a knee and kissed her hand pompously "Child, reigning suites you."

"Thank you, and thank you for leaving the twins to be with me on my union. It is so important to have a Tully here."

"You are your mother's image" her uncle sighed in a moment of vulnerability, the moment was lost when he coughed, leapt to his feet and looked at her suddenly. "Why was I ordered to bring the bastard knight?" he lacked any tact, and eyed her like she were a naughty child. "Are you in that dire need of a half decent Smith?" he prepared to sit, but Sansa stopped him.

"My Lord, the business I have with Ser Gendry is with him alone. Your room has been heated, a bath and hot meal await you." She smiled sweetly and indicated the large side door.

"I'm your elder, your uncle. You cannot dismiss me like some doll you've gotten bored of." Edmure sputtered angrily.

"As someone who has been the uncle of a crowned royal, she can dismiss you any way she likes" Tyrion had entered unnoticed and had waddled to her side. The Hound, who had agreed to stand in for Podrick until a suitable new body-man was found, placed a hand on his sword.

"I am…" Edmure made to argue.

"You are a lord serving at my pleasure uncle, please somehow get it through your drink addled brain that I am not playing at palaces and princesses. This is not a game, you stand before your Queen, not your niece. I will allow you that one moment of adjustment uncle, but you have now been warned. I may be half Tully but I am all Stark. Now go bathe, eat and sleep." She smiled again but this time tightly

"Your Grace" Edmure barely uttered as he dropped an exaggerated bow and walked from the room rather quickly.

"Very well handled Your Grace" Tyrion smiled, then called to the serving girls "Bring us some wine, bread, cheese… delicious little things for a delicious little man." The two girls giggled and ran from the room covering their mouths.

"You will not bed the servants." Sansa said through almost closed lips. She was sure she heard Sandor suppress a laugh from somewhere behind her.

"I wouldn't dare My Grace, everyone in this keep thinks I'm some evil imp… if I can show those two girls I'm merely some old lecherous Imp perhaps the children and old women will stop running away from me." Tyrion explained as he led Sansa across the hall to the knight who'd remained completely silent and still. When she was stood in front of him he dropped to one knee and lay his already drawn sword at her feet. "My Grace I…" He started but Sansa stopped him.

"Please don't ser, I can never remember the to and fro and it's so unnecessary. I accept your loyalty and allegiance and in return I will give you meat and mead and whatever else you fancy." She smiled disarmingly at the knight in full helmet, plate and furs. "Lyle, take the knights armour and furs to his chamber. Don't tell my uncle but I've had them put you in the nicest room." Sansa almost giggled as she ushered the serving boy over and insisted again that Gendry remove his mound of clothing and armour.

"The hall is heated by hot springs Ser, I can already see you are warm" The man blushed profusely as he pulled off his helmet and shrugged from his cloak. The smiling serving boy took them while surreptitiously handing the knight a clean linen to wipe the sweat from his brow "You're all shiny m'lord" Lyle whispered before sauntering away with a pile of furs bigger than himself.

She eyed the knight with shock, he was handsome, she hadn't expected that. Arya hadn't mentioned that. Gendry looked nervously at his feet, a moment of silence hung while Sansa evaluated him, she had learned much at Kings Landing, for a long time she had felt nothing but hatred for the place and the things she had seen, but as she found herself on the Northern throne she realised that queens must have 'plays', a means of getting men to do as ordered. Cersei had her sex, beauty and ruthlessness, Margaery had… well Margaery had sex and the mentality of a seasoned battle commander, only her wars had been fought in parlours and chambers, and her mother, what had she had? Lady Stark had fertility, she bred enough Starks to ensure an heir would survive even the war of the night. Sansa had none of those things fully, she was beautiful but still appeared young and she had none of the deviousness of her Kings Landing keepers. She was cunning though, and sweet. That was Sansa's play, and she played it well. Earnest sweetness followed by something witty, disarming the opponent who'd expected a silly girl, then she'd shift by asking a question, something personal to show she knew what she was talking about, smile, and then make her demand, making it sound reasonable and sensible, as if denying her was in fact 'silly'. She wasn't sure this tactic was ideal for the nervous man stood before her. "Please sit and eat with us Ser, Lord Tyrion and I would like to talk to you… Maester Samwell will join us too." She hadn't planned to say that, but when she looked at the smith knight, clearly uneasy in this company, she realised that Samwell could offer a calming element. Samwell might be high born but his wife (the worst kept secret in Winterfell) and his son (the second worst kept secret) were not, Sam might have been born a lord but through trials and life he'd been moulded into the very salt of the earth.

"as you wish your Grace." Sam said pleasantly, never one to refuse a meal. As he sat there was a strange noise from inside his robe and he grinned nervously as he patted his chest.

"Come on lad, you better do as she says. She's the Queen of these parts." Tyrion smiled up at Gendry who remained silent, and patted his elbow. The touch was enough to spur the man into action, he stepped forward, all boiled leather, bulging muscles and blushes and took a seat next to the large Maester who had already popped a chicken leg into his mouth.

Sansa and Tyrion sat opposite "Ser Gendry, I was surprised to see you without your famous Bull helmet." She said grinning as she poured a goblet of wine and pushed it towards her perhaps future brother. "drink" her tone rang with command and Gendry obliged with a deep gulp. He sighed and his nerves seemed to steady a little.

"Do you still have it?" she continued to question.

"What your Grace?" he asked, his voice solid and low.

"Your Bull helmet?"

"It's quite famous, both of the hands including Sansa's father wrote of it in their ledgers." Tyrion added with a smile.

"No your Grace, it's lost." His brow was furrowed as he looked from his Queen to the infamous Imp.

"Oh what a shame" she took his goblet and refilled it, remembering a Baratheon's tolerance for wine.

"Do you know why you are here lad?" Samwell asked after a look from Sansa, of course the Maester wasn't originally scripted for this plan but he knew what was happening, he was Jon's confident, he knew mostly everything that happened. Sansa noted with some concern that the Maester's free hand remained on his bulging belly, perhaps he was ill.

"I… I heard word that Arya… I mean her Grace the Princess, I heard she had returned. Am I to be punished?" he asked, his voice was scratchy and he kept his eyes on his empty plate.

"Punished for what Ser?" Sansa asked, her voice calm but curious.

"I left her to join the brotherhood, she was taken by the Hound. If I'd been there… It was my fault. And I accept the punishment Grace, I'm truly sorry." He sounded it too, he sounded almost distraught. Sansa made to talk but the sound of a booming voice from the other end of the hall stopped her.

"I'd have cut you down like a blade of grass boy." Sandor said not unkindly "The girl made it safely to Braavos thanks to me, she made it safe to me thanks to you… and herself. If I'm being honest it was mostly herself, she's a hell cat…"

"Thank you Sandor!" Sansa cut him off short, her eyebrows raised. Sandor was a fantastic sword and fiercely loyal but not one for protocol or etiquette.

"You are not here to be punished Ser Gendry." Sansa said in her most soothing and sweet tone.

"I can see why you thought you would be, last time a queen sent for you she wanted you dead didn't she?" Tyrion said a look of realisation dawning over his large scarred face.

Sansa saw an 'in' here as Gendry nodded, he seemed to have settled a little now that he knew he wasn't to be killed "do you know why you were sought by the Gold Cloaks?" she asked.

"No your Grace, I thought it might have something to do with your father and the old hand visiting me. But no I don't know." He cleared his throat and worried his brow, he had the expression of a person attempting to behave normally in an abnormal situation, it reminded Sansa of Arya which made her smile.

Tyrion sighed loudly. "It is uncanny." He stared at the boy "You are your father's spitting image, before he got fat and old and hairy." Gendry's eyes shot up and he stared intently at the dwarf, Sansa watched him closely.

"I'm a bastard Lord, I have no father" the Smith knight said shortly before shoving a piece of bread into his mouth, perhaps to stop him from saying more.

"Everyone has a father; you just don't know who yours is. I on the other hand do know… who yours is, I still doubt mine. And I think it is time you knew Gendry." Tyrion paused dramatically "You my lad are the bastard son of Robert Baratheon." The smith's eyes became suddenly wide and he inhaled sharply, bread caught in his throat and he coughed violently. Sam dropped the chicken he held in his left hand and thumped him once on the back, the small orb of saliva and bread shot from the knight's mouth and landed unceremoniously in front of the queen who couldn't help the titter which escaped her lips. Gendry made to scrabble for the regurgitated bread but the imp was quicker and had flicked it towards one of the many wolves laying by the fire, one snatched it quickly and returned to her dosing.

"I can't be."

"You are, your mother was a favourite of Robert, she fell pregnant with his baby. There are accounts of money being paid from the purse to your mother, until her death and further to pay for your apprenticeship. Three hands of the iron throne say you are his son, and beside that I have my eyes boy. I remember my sister's wedding, you take the beard from Robert Baratheon and you have your face. Has nobody ever mentioned it to you?"

"Yes." The smith knight said honestly with brows still furrowed.

"Well then." Tyrion concluded as if the matter entirely settled.

"are you alright?" Samwell asked patting the knight on the arm, Gendry was staring into space attempting to process the information he'd just been fed.

Sansa smiled, Arya had been a little more forthcoming about Gendry of late. After a glass of ale and some persistent questioning from her elder sister she'd told Sansa about how Gendry had taken to sleeping by her side and how when the night was bitter and he thought her asleep he'd move closer to keep her warm "He'd stay so close that I could feel the heat. He was always warm like a furnace" when Sansa had cooe'd at this Arya had snapped "Not like that." And stormed off ending that specific interlude. But Arya hadn't mentioned his bold Jaw, the dimples, his eyes, his muscles… all the things a girl should notice, she'd mentioned his honour, his skill, his loyalty.

"I don't imagine being the 'Bastard Knight' has been easy? According to some little birds you haven't been taken into the fold at the Twins. Is that why you're not a master armourer?" Tyrion questioned, he had a fondness for Bastards and broken things.

"The Lord Tully doesn't think it's fit for a bastard to hold that title" Gendry said with ire, emboldened slightly. Sansa smiled, he certainly had fire in his belly.

"My uncle is an ass." Sansa said, before she could stop herself.

"here here." Tyrion added, lifting his goblet and clinking it to hers.

Sansa pulled a small scroll from her sleeve and unfurled it "Gendry" she said softly, the knight finally looked at her fully and she smiled reassuringly "What I offer you now stands, irrespective of what happens… next" he looked perplexed but she continued "I have consulted with Lord Tyrion the Hand to the Dragon Queen" she indicated the man who had been her husband "and we have come to the decision that you should be legitimized. For your services during the wars, for your continued service to the North in spite of your southern heritage and for protecting Princess of the North Arya Stark with honour and dignity" she was sure she heard Sandor snort with derision.

"My queen in the south has agreed with the proviso you do not make a claim on your family seat of Storms End nor do you seek to take the iron throne. Do you accept these terms?" Tyrion was positively beaming now, the man before him nodded hastily.

"Very well. Welcome to Winterfell Lord Baratheon." Sansa grinned and handed Gendry the official scroll "there will have to be some sort of announcement… at the wedding feast tomorrow night perhaps." She refilled Gendry's cup for the third time "My sister Arya…" Gendry interrupted her, much to the shock of all who had given him up for silence

"Would it be acceptable for me to see her, whilst I'm here…" Sansa couldn't help but smile at this.

"I imagine so, yes" Tyrion responded with an impish smile.

"Arya is seven and ten now, how old are you My lord?" Sansa asked

"I'm one and twenty your Grace." He answered, his brow was yet to unknot.

"have you a girl? Someone waiting for you back at the neck?" Sam asked

"No sir."

Sansa stopped for a second, she had considered coming right out with it. But she thought of her sister, of her pride and her independence. Perhaps she'd just throw them together and see what happened, and if that didn't work then she'd start issuing edicts. Let them clap eyes on each other once before thrusting the daunting prospect of a royal wedding upon the newly titled Lord.

"Well we'll need to find you a wife and a keep wont we." Sansa said lightly as she smiled as though this concluded the matter, Tyrion looked at her with one brow raised but held his tongue.

"I…" Gendry wasn't sure what to say so stopped.

"Lyle will take you to your rooms, you can bathe, eat in privacy and get some sleep. I'll have the maids bring you up some fresh clothes for the feast tomorrow. I don't imagine you brought formal wear?" he shook his head in response "worry not Lord Gendry we'll find you something. You'll join our table at the feast tomorrow of course, I have room for ten and only nine to fill it. It would honour my father to have a Baratheon join our family at this feast." She continued to smile as Gendry continued to look like a fish out of water as he stood and bowed to her.

"Come on M'Lord" Lyle had appeared and was leading Gendry from the room "You're less shiny now Ser" the boy said helpfully as he guided the Smith Knight-Lord to his sleeping quarters.

"We missed a large portion of that out didn't we?" Tyrion finally said when Lord Baratheon was safely out of ear shot.

"perhaps it was a little mad of me but a romantic notion took hold, perhaps we let them see each other before foisting matrimony upon them?" she smiled and looked to Sam "You're behaving very strangely Samwell, is there something wrong with your stomach?" she asked indicating his hand.

He was prohibited from answering by the sudden appearance of Jon who gave the Maester a significant look "there's a raven arrived for you Samwell" he said shortly, he was lying, Sansa could always tell.

"What is going on?" she asked in exasperation.

"The fat ones got a baby under his cloak" Sandor shouted from the other end of the hall, ever the helpful and observant.

"Maester Samwell?" Sansa asked "surely…" she stopped, he did look bigger. And a small smile was creeping over his round face.

"Gilly, she's had another baby." And when he said it he looked so proud and pleased, Jon was grinning too.

"Congratulations Samwell!" Tyrion had stood and walked round to shake his hand, the Maester opened up his robes to reveal a hearty babe fast asleep, rosy cheeked and strapped quite securely to his front.

"She's my little girl" he said as he gently held one of her tiny sleeping hands. "little Lyanna." He said, Jon looked away for a second. He'd known about the baby, about her name, about everything for months now… but it still choked him a little that Gilly and Sam would name their child for his mother.

"She's perfect." Tyrion said tickling her small foot.

Sansa was smiling, she knew she shouldn't be. She knew she should be chastising her Maester, writing to the citadel, doling out punishments… but love was more important than rules and Samwell and Gilly were so very much in love.

"Little Lyanna Tarly." Sansa smiled "she'll have a place at court when she's grown."

"Thank you your Grace." Sam bobbed an odd curtsey, incapable of a bow. Sansa was just relieved that the perceived extra bulk around the Maester was a large baby rather than ale and ham.

"When Arya arrives back from her hunt with the wolves and Rickon have her sent straight to her quarters and bathed" She called to Jon as she stood and straightened her dresses. "Come on Sandor." She nodded to the hound who was at her heel in an instant.

"where to my Grace?"

"I'm going to sup with Pod" she said attempting to dampen the excitement in her voice.

"Do I have to chaperone?" the hound asked sullenly.

"yes."