Sansa

"I'm bleeding." She said woefully as Agatha combed her hair, they sat alone in her father's Solar.

"Your Grace, it has only been three months." Her handmaid soothed as she pulled the horse hair brush over the Queen's burnt umber locks.

"My mother fell pregnant in her first."

"Your mother wasn't under the pressure of a crown." Agatha reasoned as they'd had this debate on each of her bloods since the wedding. Agatha was well rehearsed.

"What if I am…"

"Don't say it, my Queen, it is far too early to even think it. You are torturing yourself for nought." Agatha placed a reassuring hand on Sansa's shoulder, the queen reached up one of her own to pat the serving girl a thank you.

"I just don't want to let everyone down." Sansa sobbed, her handmaid restricted by propriety softly uttered words of comfort, her hand remaining on her queen's shoulder.

There was a knock at the door, Agatha removed her hand and took a step away as swiftly as one could move, Sansa wiped her eyes and took a breath "Come in." she called, and the door squeaked open

"My Grace…" Maester Sam had an amused expression on his ball face.

"What is it Sam, I thought my business was done for the day" Sansa sighed wearily, she hadn't really done that much at all, but with the blood on her, she felt sore and irritable.

"Lord Baratheon wishes an audience." The Maester grinned again.

"Send him in," Sansa said attempting to school her features into those of a welcoming and warm host, the Smith Lord was skittish like a pony and could easily clam up.

"He's waiting in winter hall; he didn't want to presume by approaching the solar." Sam giggled a little, she supposed southerners would be slightly left-footed by her less formal style of ruling, but she was growing tired of Lord Gendry's silence and was actually more than a little intrigued by his request.

"Well go and get him." She chided.

"Lyle has already run down" Sam paused as though he were thinking deeply on an important matter, opened his mouth to speak but then seemed to think better of it.

"What?" she asked, her woes forgotten for now at the intrigue laid before her.

"I think it's best we allow Lord Baratheon tell you…" as though to punctuate his point there were loud clangings and Lyle's incomprehensible voice from down the hall "Ah, here he is."

Gendry, the hulking man her sister intended to wed always shocked Sansa when he was indoors. When he stood near the forge or out in the yard, he looked to be just a large man, but when he was forced to hunch through a door frame and hold his arms close to him, in the Solar one realised how absolutely massive his arms and chest actually were. Sansa couldn't help but imagine him stooping to kiss her petite sister, and the thought was disturbing… could a man be too big for a woman? According to the Queen of the South, the answer to that was no. Daenerys was a small lady but had reported her husband the Khal was bigger still than Gendry. The Lord Baratheon shuffled through the door his arms full of… something… covered with a large tarp, Lyle was entering behind, his small legs wobbling under the weight of a great armour dummy.

"Give it here." The Hound snatched the dummy from him, setting it up in the centre of the room.

"Thank you, Sandor," Sansa said with a nod, indicating he return to his post outside the door along with her other Queens Guard. Sandor, who had intended to leave her service once a replacement had been found, seemed incapable of finding a suitable replacement and so just remained as unofficial leader of the Queens guard and Sansa's personal body man.

"your Grace" his voice was small, tiny even. Gendry cleared his throat and tried again "Your Grace, you have shown me a great deal of kindness" Sansa made to speak but the Lord who was staring at his feet, as he had been taught to do when around noble born ladies, ploughed on.

"I have no real personal wealth to purchase a wedding gift … but I have my hands" at that Lyle, who it seemed had rehearsed this, ripped the tarp from Gendry's hands revealing that the Smith was holding a newly forged helmet and breastplate. "I know you have a large Queens guard, but I made this and showed the armourer how to…" he paused, stepping forward placing the helmet and plate on the dummy in front of Sansa. She took it in, the helmet of northern steel was the yawning mouth of the Dire Wolf, the teeth sharp, it looked practical, sturdy and reminded her of the hound's old helmet if it had had graceful wisps of hair chiselled into it. The detail was incredible, the breastplate again featured the wolf, this time on its side like her house crest in raised metal again containing fine detail. "The armourer's awaiting your approval your Grace." He concluded, never once looking her in the eye. His vocabulary had improved these past months, it seemed Arya was doing more than just getting him kidnapped by bandits, or perhaps it was Lyle's assistance. Irrespective she was pleased.

"Lord Baratheon…" she stopped, she knew how uncomfortable he was "Could I have a moment alone with his lordship?" she indicated for Lyle, Agatha, and Sam to retreat. Gendry looked panicked, and she thought that perhaps this wasn't her best move, after all, what if he thought he was in trouble. The room cleared, and she started again "My Lord, these gifts are perfect, my brother has been on at me for months to give my decorated men… their decoration… if you will. You have more than crushed my expectations my Lord, this work is some the finest I have ever seen." He continued to stare at his feet, a blush creeping up his large and handsome face. "My Lord, please look at me." She cooed. She witnessed his internal struggle until he finally complied, his blue eyes meeting her own, his brow furrowed with fear and worry. "Thank you Gendry." She smiled, she wasn't sure if she was thanking him for the armour or the eye contact.

"please sit." She indicated the chair across the large desk from her.

He nodded and sat, his eyes returning to his knees "Gendry." Her tone was playfully chiding, he looked at her again, the first sightings of a grin twitching at his cheeks.

"Thank you, my grace." he said with a resolved nod, it seemed his internal struggle was over, for now, he was attempting to remain calm.

"It might be too much of an ask Gendry, but just this once, in my Father's Solar, the home of your kin's kin could you call me Sansa? I know you call Arya by her name and she is my sister and your… friend. And well, it would be agreeable if just for the next few moments I could be at ease with my sister's only friend." She recognised in him that thing that separated men like Jon and Pod from people like Joffrey and Littlefinger, that desire to put another person's needs in front of their own, she voiced her own discomfort in the hopes of spurring him into action, even if that action was a brief and casual conversation.

"Alright," he swallowed slowly "Thank you Sansa" his eyes darted about nervously, as though someone would jump out and take his head.

"Please have a drink" she slid a small glass of fortified wine over to him "My way of thanking you for my new Guard's armour."

"please don't feel they need to wear them, just because…" he started as he held the small glass in his massive war hammer hands.

"Nonsense, if the armourer approves then I agree, I can only comment on the look, and they look sublime." She grinned and took a sip, giving her time to think. She was growing weary of Arya's refusal to officially court Gendry Baratheon, she was even more vexed by the Baratheon Lord himself who although apparently smitten was unable to voice his feelings. Arya had scolded her only a week ago when she'd threatened to tell him that she'd sent for him to marry her 'He'll do it because I asked and then what? I'll never know if I'm just forcing him into a life he doesn't want!' Arya had wailed. She'd long given up denying her feelings, it was almost laughable how everyone but Gendry knew, but it wasn't helping Arya. She was moodier than usual and seemed in a constant state of anxiety, Sansa knew something must be done but given the uneasy nature of the pair of them she was terrified she'd make a wrong move.

"I'm very glad Arya has a shoulder to lean on here in Winterfell, I feel like what with my, Jon and Rickon having more time to bond she sometimes feels… out of the loop."

"I'm more than happy to… help." He was making a brave attempt to keep his eyes on the queen's face but still seemed unable to fully vocalise himself without fear of causing offence, it was Sansa's turn to persevere.

"You know my father and your father sat in this very room." She said whimsically, looking around at the tomes and scrolls and the worn tapestry. "Your father went to war for a woman he loved…"

"I've heard the stories, I'm not proud of who my father was your Grace" he was retreating, and she chastised herself "He wasn't half the king you are." He nodded softening his tone, which had harshened at the mention of his pater.

"Sometimes I question my own father's choices" she breathed, she'd not voiced this to anyone. The idea of besmirching Ned Stark seemed so disloyal, but her time in Kings Landing and even here on her own throne had caused her to reflect with a little more context on the actions of her beloved father "Lord Baratheon, Gendry… You have been a great council to my sister, so I too seek the same level of confidentiality with you. Can I trust you Gendry?" he nodded thoughtfully "Very well, I have considered the wars, the death and night from all angles. I know more of the background plays than most, and I believe my father naïve, either that, or he had so much pride in his honour it ended up getting the better of him. If he'd only said no to Robert, he could of, he was one of the few that could. If only he'd kept his theories on the Lannisters more discretely, trusted the right people… run. My biggest disappointment, however, is how he treated Jon, my mother was no monster if he'd told her the truth she'd have raised him as her own and protected him. She'd never have told a soul… and she wouldn't have hated him, she would have known father was as loyal as she believed. Instead, my cousin was raised to believe he was half, not whole… that he was less. The thing is Gendry we have all had to walk in different shoes these past years." Sansa had decided if he wasn't willing to talk then she was more than "That is probably why you and Arya have bonded, you both understand what it is to be thrust into a life you weren't born to… her life in Braavos and yours here. I lived as a bastard you know, during the war after I'd run from kings landing… that was when I learned that it doesn't matter, a person is only as worthy as they believe they are, as they are told they are. I was told I was nothing, and eventually, I started to believe it, but then I found Jon and he called me Lady Stark, and I wasn't nothing anymore… silly really. My point is this Lord Baratheon, you are not a lord because your father was king, you were made a Lord because you are worthy. You had protected my sister before you knew she was anybody and when you found out who and what she was you could have turned her in and made 'Something' of yourself but you didn't. If the queen of the south had denied your right to reclaim your family name I would have titled you myself, given you a new name… Because Lord Gendry Baratheon you are worthy of it." He was blushing, but a small, proud smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Thank you, Your Grace Sansa for such kind words" he managed to mutter.

"I only speak the truth." Sansa straightened "I wonder if I might pick your brain on another matter?" It was time to make her play. "My sister can never know we've had this discussion she'd be furious, do you understand?" Gendry seemed to really think it over, before nodding in agreement finally.

"She is to me married."

"Oh." Gendry finally makes an involuntary noise, Sansa attempted to hide her smile.

"To who is yet to be decided."

"Oh," this one sounded more relieved than the first.

"I want for it to be you." Sansa smiled, the play was made, Gendry was making an odd choking noise his eyes widening. Sansa tilted her head slightly, considering her next move "She knows nothing of this, she merely alerted me to your presence but having witnessed the bond you share, I believe it would be a good match." And now to soften the blow "I could be wrong of course, that's why I ask of you Lord Gendry perhaps you could attempt to court Arya… I understand that given my sister's nature this will probably need an unconventional approach. Is that something you think you'd like to do Lord Gendry? Do you think my sister would make you a suitable wife?" that's it, no mention of love. She kept her tone even and light, these were routine matters of business. Ever so gently placing the metaphorical carrot on the desk careful not to spook Gendry.

He swallowed again, she knew her words were a trap but she also knew the massive Smith Lord bastard loved her crazed wolf assassin sibling, he couldn't say no it would be an insult "Would I make a suitable husband Your Grace?" Ah! He wasn't nearly half as stupid as he looked with his furrowed brows and hulking muscles.

"Would I have asked you otherwise?" her tone was stern but her eyes still warm and smiling "I believe you may be the only suitable husband for her… but if you disagree, if you think you could not love her speak now Gendry and we shall continue our search" she cursed herself, she'd meant to keep love off the table but he'd caught her off guard, she'd honestly expected acceptance, that her invitation would be enough.

He rubbed his brow, and she heard his breath speeding up, did he think this all some elaborate trick? Perhaps. This was a post-war Westeros, everyone had a memory or two to haunt them "Gendry…" her tone was soft honey again "I'd like an answer please?"

"yes."

"Yes you disagree?" she clarified.

"No…" he took a steadying breath as he pulled at a loose thread on his jerkin "Yes I…I could love her." His voice was so slight, his eyes returned to his toes, but she'd got her yes.

"good, well be gone. Go attempt to court the wolf girl of Winterfell, may the old gods show you mercy." She smiled happily and clapped her hands softly as he stood, his face a mask of confusion and turned almost knocking over the dummy as he headed to the door "Thank you again Lord Baratheon, the armour was a thoughtful and beautiful gesture." He nodded without looking at her as he shuffled from the room attempting not to knock over anything else. Sansa grinned, her mind now fully removed from her previous worries, if only for the moment.