Sansa watches her children practice their swordplay.

"Is it time yet?"

Sansa looked up from her needlepoint and watched her daughter for a moment, eying her eager face.

"It's been less than five minutes since you asked last, my darling," she teased her, pulling the needle through her fabric before placing the embroidery ring on the table. "Let me see your work."

Mareena hastily pressed her own little embroidery ring into her mother's hands and waited impatiently as Sansa inspected it. "You've done four stitches since I looked at this last," she sighed, holding the ring out for her daughter to take. "But a promise is a promise, I suppose. Grab your sword."

Mareena squealed in delight as she snatched the ring from Sansa's hands and ran for the door, bare feet pattering on the stones as she ran off down the hall. Sansa shook her head and stood, smoothing her dress over the bulge in her midsection. That girl was a handful. She reminded Sansa so much of her sister Arya.

The boys were already in the small courtyard when she arrived. She watched from the top of the wooden staircase as Sandor adjusted Ned's grip on his wooden sword. Her husband has refused to allow a master-at-arms to teach their sons swordplay; he'd preferred to be the one to do it. "I want them to learn the proper way of it," he'd told her gruffly. When Mareena had first picked up one of her brothers' swords, she'd instantly fallen in love with the thought of being a knight and begged her papa to teach her, too. It had been months before Sansa was made aware that her only daughter was learning how to use a sword. She had not been pleased at first, but soon found that she couldn't bring herself to deny the girl anything. It was with much reluctance that she allowed Mareena to continue on, with one stipulation: she must still work toward mastering her needlepoint by stitching with her mother before she was allowed to practice with her sword. Mareena had only barely agreed to it, Sansa recalled with a smirk.

Mareena barreled past her, wooden sword clacking against the steps. Sansa couldn't help but smile as the girl knocked elbows with the boys so that she could stand between them. Her hair was braided down her back, red as a dying sun. Standing together, the three of them looked like little candles, all thin and pale and topped with flame.

Today they would be sparring. It filled Sansa with a sense of dread, worried that Mareena would get hurt. The oldest twin, Robb, insisted that he fight Mareena first; tiring her out would make it easier for Ned to beat her, he reasoned. Mareena only narrowed her eyes before raising her sword.

Sandor watched with amusement as Mareena and Robb began to spar. The sound of wooden swords clacking together filled the little courtyard. Sansa watched the duel with apprehension, Sandor swigged wine from a small flask, and Ned egged his brother on as Mareena gave Robb a run for his money. After blocking each other for several turns, Mareena finally slipped her sword in and gave Robb a good whack on the hand. He instantly dropped his sword and cried out.

"That hurt! Papa!" Mareena threw her head back and gave an incredibly derisive laugh for a six-year-old.

Sandor rolled his eyes. "Wait until you get run through by a real sword, boy, then you'll know real pain," he grumbled. "Now pick up that sword and get back to it. Mareena's not done with you yet."

With a sour look at his sister, Robb swiped his sword up and gave a swift jab at her. She twisted away and he stumbled forward, unbalanced. Noticing the opening he left her, she snaked her way in and jabbed him in the abdomen with the blunt end of her sword. Robb dropped his weapon and grabbed his stomach, groaning. Mareena took the opportunity to push him back flat on his rear in the dirt.

Sansa snorted, covering her mouth with her hand to hide her smile. The others made no such effort to hide their mirth. Sandor threw his head back and laughed a deep, gravely belly laugh; Ned was doubled over in fits of laughter, grabbing his sides.

"You better run!" Robb shouted, rolling to his knees. Unable to control her laughter, Mareena dropped her sword and took off, the boys hot on her trail as they all ran past Sansa and into the castle. Their laughter followed them, trailing off as they went deeper inside.

Sandor approached her with their discarded swords held in one large hand, his wine flask in the other. He settled the little swords against the wooden railing beside her before leaning in for a kiss.

"They're terrible," she teased. "Maybe this one will be calmer. It certainly doesn't make as big a racket inside me as the other three did."

Sandor smiled as he placed a hand on her belly, rubbing his thumb back and forth soothingly.

"You love the chaos," he murmured, pressing his lips against hers once more. He felt her smiling her agreement.