A Season of Change
"Sandor," Sansa giggles softly, running her hands through his hair.
Inside the tented wagon is warm and cozy, and Sandor is eager to prolong their intimacy for as long as possible before another long day of travel.
"Hmm?" He nuzzles in between her breasts, kissing her soft flesh there. He already took her twice during the night while the twins slept peacefully beside them but Sandor still hungers for his beautiful wife.
"The babies will awaken soon." Sandor peeks through the curtain of hair that has fallen over his face to see his wife suggestively nod toward the down and fur covered cribs.
Sansa brushes the hair away and smiles at him. "And you know what that means."
Undeterred, Sandor continues nibbling his way to her navel while ducking below the fox fur bedding. "I know, lass. I mean to enjoy you a bit more before the pups want breakfast."
"I am hardly considered a lass. I am wedded, bedded and a mother of two besides," Sansa nudges him playfully. "Made so by you."
"You are at that," he runs his finger along her cheekbone. "And a lovelier woman there never was. You are mine, and I'll call you lass as long as I like, so bugger that nonsense."
"Sandor!" Sansa gapes in surprise. "I can hardly believe such a tender sentiment came from your lips."
"Bloody hells, woman," Sandor groans low before sharply laughing. "It's too fucking early for this. Let me be."
Sansa giggles once more and then sighs contentedly.
"Give me this time," His large hand firmly caresses the swell of her hip and thigh in smooth rhythmic strokes. "I'll not have you to myself much longer."
"You will always have me to yourself," Sansa seriously replies, lifting his face to hers. "If you do not like living at Winterfell, Sandor, you only need say the word and we will move elsewhere. I swear it on the old gods and the new."
"I am not speaking of living at the castle and you know it." Scoffing, he raises up to face her. "You remember how taxing it was on your father, serving as Warden of the north. Once you and your sister take over the wardenship, it will be no different; make no mistake. "
Sansa thoughtfully nods. "You speak truly about the heavy responsibilities of the appointment. Nevertheless, Sandor, I am yours, as you are mine. I am determined that this position will not come between us or our family."
Chuckling, he shakes his head and rolls out of bed. "As you say, wife."
"You said that you wanted me to accept it," Sansa anxiously follows him, pulling the furs around her shoulders. "Have you changed your mind?"
"No, Sansa, and damn it, don't go putting words in my mouth," he growls, pulling on his breeches. "I'll miss it being just the four of us, that's all, but I'm no fool. Come with me now."
"But the babies-"
"We're not going far. We'll be able to hear them. Now come."
After hastily throwing on her gown, Sansa wraps her cloak around her and steps out into the chill morning air. Nymeria snuffles at her skirts before lying down at the entrance of the wagon.
"See, lass, our children could hardly be safer with that wolf bitch standing guard," he laughs. "You'd think they were her pups, the way she carries on."
Leading her by the hand, Sandor helps her up onto a tall rock outcropping in a small clearing. "Look there, will you?"
As the morning mist slowly dissipates, Sansa laughs excitedly, squeezing his arm at the familiar shape on the horizon. "Winterfell! I had no idea we were so close!"
The burned side of Sandor's mouth curls into a pleased smile. "Less than half a day's ride and you'll be home."
Casting her eyes downward, Sansa folds her hands. "We will be home, love."
"Aye, we," he amends.
Suddenly crestfallen, she anxiously turns away, wringing the hem of her cloak in her hands.
"What is this now?" Sandor frowns, tipping her chin up to him.
"Nothing," Sansa stammers. "I-it is nothing."
Smirking, he stares into her face. "You're afraid," he announces decidedly.
"Do not jest. I am not."
"Of course you are," he grunts low. "You're almost there and you're afraid you won't make it. The closer you get, the worse the fear gets."
"Do not put words in my mouth, Sandor, I like it no better than you." Sansa glowers at him. "You are mistaken, so leave it be."
"No point hiding behind that face. I know fear when I see it. Seen it a lot." Sandor places his arm around her shoulders. "It was the same when I reached Castle Black. I knew you were there. Inside those walls. So close, and yet I still could not reach you unless your brother agreed to let me pass through. It plagued me, haunted my dreams and waking hours alike, until I finally saw you."
Sansa leans her head against his chest and wipes away the tears from her cheeks. "Why do you suppose it happens this way?"
"It comes from wanting too much, waiting too much, losing too much."
"Yes," she nods understandingly. "I am certain you are right about that, for I felt the same when I learned Jon turned you away. I was so very angry and afraid I had missed my chance to tell you of my feelings."
"Were you now?"
"Very much so," Sansa smiles up at him. "I dreamed of you, you know."
"You said so once," He raises his eyebrow at her. "But I'd hear it again. Go on; do tell."
"I already told you that I dreamt you kissed me, and more," she blushes. "But what I did not tell you was that I also saw our whole lives before us. I dreamt of our wedding and of our children, of our future home. I saw it all as plainly as I see you before me now."
"You never said such before," he pulls away while intently studying her face, swallowing the well of emotion rising in his throat with difficulty.
"I kept it to myself because at first I thought it merely a young girl's foolish whim and I knew you have never been one devoted to the gods. I was afraid you would mock me."
"Fuck me sideways," he grumbles under his breath, knowing she is right although admitting it shames him to the core. "What changed your mind?"
"Well since then, I have realized the gods allowed me to glimpse the future through such dreams," Sansa pulls him closer and caresses his face. "Perhaps it was the same for you."
"Perhaps," Sandor allows, kissing her soundly. "You need not fret that I will mock you, or anything else for that matter, lass. Let's go back now."
"Wait," she places her hand on his chest. "I need to say something to you before we reach the castle."
"The wolves will come again," Jojen's words resounded in Jon's ears. Upon receiving Sandor's raven announcing the birth of the twins, pure, unadulterated joy spread through the young man for perhaps the first time in his life. Unable to contain his enthusiasm, he ran through the halls of Winterfell, shouting orders for the bells ring from sunrise to sunset just as they did for his beloved Sansa's birth.
As soon as he saw Daenerys, Jon grabbed the young woman and held her close, remembering a moment too late that she was queen and currently surrounded by her counsel. As he began begging apologies, Jon noticed tears forming in Daenerys' eyes.
"Did I hurt you?" He murmured startled at how small she felt in his arms. Gently he started to move away but Dany clung to him and shook her head.
"No Jon, you did not hurt me. Pray forgive me. It has been so long since anyone treated me as a woman, as someone other than the queen or mother of dragons whom all fear, that I hardly know what I am about." Knitting her brows, she added softly, "Come to think of it, Drogo was the last person to do so, and he was taken from me long ago. Your sudden embrace made me realize how very much I miss it."
Behind them, he faintly heard the members of her counsel quietly leaving the solar but Jon paid them no mind. "You and I are family now," he held her face, completely taken in by the tender expression in her lovely purple eyes. "You need never feel that you are merely the sum of your titles. You are a kind, generous, brave woman."
Dany smiled and caressed his face. "Thank you for saying that. I have always longed for family. It is the sweetest part of life, and the one that has eluded me. Being with you has been the happiest I have been in a long time, Jon, and I am most grateful to have you." The affection in her eyes touched his heart, and impulsively Jon leaned down and kissed her. To his surprise, she laughed once more and pulled him closer before deepening the kiss.
Since then Jon has spent every night in her bed. To his great relief, so far Daenerys has not become with child. After his own experience as a bastard, he remained comfortable with their liberal arrangement and within three months, Jon asked her to be his wife.
"Jon, are you certain this is what you want?" Dany asked incredulously, though her purple eyes sparkled with happiness at his words.
"Yes, Daenerys. I want us to be a real family, wed in the sight of the old gods and the new. We will be happy together, I swear it."
Worry clouded her features, and she hesitated before whispering, "I will never have children, Jon. You deserve a woman who can give you the family you long for, your own flesh and blood. I would not have you deny yourself such a precious gift for my sake."
"No, Dany, don't say that," he said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "If the gods see fit, then we will have children. If they don't, we will have each other."
With that Daenerys readily agreed, though the couple decided to keep the news secret until all of his family returned to Winterfell.
Arya arrived a moon's turn later with her enigmatic friend, Jaqen H'gar. Stunned and saddened, Jon hardly recognized the little sister he left behind for the Night's Watch. Now a grown woman, Arya returned to their ancestral home a beautiful, cautious, well-trained warrior. Though clearly suspicious of Dany, Arya treated her respectfully and listened to Jon recounting all that occurred with rapt attention.
When Jon learned of her training with the Faceless Men, both he and Daenerys feared her devoted to the same red god as Stannis and Melisandre. When he finally worked up the courage to share their concerns, Arya only laughed and put her arms around him. "Brother, how could you even think such a thing? I am a Stark, wolf blooded, same as you. The old gods are never far from me."
"But that is part of the training, is it not?" Jon pressed further. "You must accept the religion of the Red God to gain the title of a faceless man, is that not so?"
"Well, yes, but I did not advance that far."
"You are of their order, are you not?"
Arya shook her head. "You were the one who claimed I am one of the faceless men, brother, not I. I only said I trained as such. I never took the vows."
"Why not?" Jon looked her over, his eye wandering over the ornate weapons resting on her hip alongside Needle. "You seem well equipped enough for it."
"I lost the taste for it, that's all," Arya frowned. "I don't want to talk about it. My dancing master in King's Landing taught me there is only one god, and his name is death."
Jaqen cast a small smile toward her as she spoke and Jon saw Arya raise her eyebrow at him in return. Before he could question her further, the queen interrupted them.
"You must have been tutored by a Braavosi, then," Daenerys smiled excitedly, and all at once, Jon saw Arya's defenses waver. Puzzled, she tilted her head at the queen, grinning in the same manner as when he presented her with Needle. "Yes! My dancing master, Syrio Forel, was from Braavos. How did you know, Your Grace?"
"I have traveled quite extensively and met several men with such training. You must be an extremely disciplined young woman, Arya. I am most fortunate indeed to be blessed with a goodniece such as you."
"Thank you," Arya smiled broadly. From then on, Jon was relieved to see the icy reserve swiftly dissolve between the two women. They began spending long days together discussing plans for the north. At Dany's insistence, Arya began training her in the fundamentals of swordplay, and in turn, Daenerys taught her how to command the dragons and drilled her on the diplomacy needed as warden of the north.
Not long after, Gendry sought permission to court Arya's hand. Dany expressed her eagerness for Arya to agree and spoke extensively on the benefits of having them united though marriage, but Jon refused to pressure his sister and stood firm.
"It is her choice and no one else's, Dany. I insist that you respect my wishes on the matter. It is no more than I did for Sansa, and I will not have her obligated to wed where she does not wish it."
Arya, for her part, listened quietly to them. "He has been part of my pack ever since I left King's Landing," she stated plainly, offering a shy smile toward Gendry. "Once I believed I would never marry, that married life was not for me, but I must admit that time and experience has changed my views on the matter somewhat. If you'll just leave us be, I will consider it."
Jon and Dany readily agreed.
"When Sansa and Sandor return, our family will be complete," Daenerys whispered that night as he held her close.
"Yes, then Winterfell will once more belongs to the wolves at long last," he kissed her softly before blowing out the candles.
The next morning Jon found Arya saddling Craven while Ghost dances excitedly around her. "Where are you headed, Sis?"
"I cannot wait," Arya smiled. "Sansa is so close, I can feel her. Tell me you feel her, too."
"Yes, I do," he admitted, readying his tack.
"I can't resist, Jon, I have to ride out to meet her. Want to come with me?"
"Alright," Jon laughed, "Let's go."