What Jon had said impacted her. She felt different, and saw the baby she carried in a new light. A child who could be safe, and warm. Who would only hear stories of his brave uncles and grandparents. Who could grow to be brave himself. Who would never know the name Bolton, never know the tragedy and pain that name brought on House Stark.
As the days passed, she helped how she could, with the dinner preparations mostly, although she was a bit out of practice.
It was a week after Jon was named Jon Stark. Sansa was in the kitchens, helping here and there. After an hour, she sat with her hair pinned up, peeling potatoes into a barrel with Erma, a kitchen maid. She let herself laugh with her, a full belly laugh, and felt so right, so comfortable. She felt like a proper northern woman, her cheeks red from the heat of the ovens, her dress and apron covered in flour. She felt strong.
The evening went on in a sort of casual manner, as she let herself feel at home in the kitchens. An hour before dinner was to be served, a steward rushed into the kitchens.
"Lord Sn-Lord Stark, m'lady, needs you in the Hall."
She smiled, and slid off her stool. She rinsed her hands off in a cold bucket of water near the door, and dried them on her apron.
"Who's here?" she asked, noting the extra hands entering the courtyard.
"House Reed, m'lady." he said, and she nodded. She let her hair down, and then dusted herself off as well as she could manage.
She pushed in the double doors, and walked, head high, through the small crowd of people. At the end of the throne hall, Jon sat in one of the two thrones. She proudly ascended the steps and took a seat beside him. She felt his eyes on her for a moment, but didn't look to him. Instead, she watched a small dark haired woman with curls near the bottom of the steps. She wore green, the color of her house.
"M'lady." she curtsied, and then indicated Jon. "M'lord. I'm Jyana Reed. Wife of Howland Reed, who was very close with your father."
"I know the name." Sansa said, leaning forward. "We sent your house a raven, Lady Reed."
"You must forgive me for not arriving sooner. Our house, as you may know, has dilapidated. We have less than 30 men, and we're at mercy to whatever attacks come our way. Sparing so many men would have put our home at risk. With Howland ill, and my children gone..."
"Your children?" Jon asked. "You don't have them?"
"No." she said, tears in her eyes. "They left, to help...to help your brother. We haven't heard from them in many years."
"Bran?" Sansa whispered, and the woman nodded.
"And I apologize for not coming sooner. I left as soon as I heard you had the castle. I came here today to offer my full allegiance, and our castle if you need troops safeguarded in the south. All I can offer you is walls and shelter, but if I had more, I would."
"How ill is your husband?" Jon asked. Howland had fought beside at the Tower of Joy, Jon remembered. He was going to save Lyanna. If there was anyone who knew his true heritage, it would be him.
"He's been taken to bed for years now." she said softly. "And our house is doomed to die. But the castle is yours, when that time comes." she bowed her head.
Sansa stood, and descended the steps. She took Jyana's hand in her own, clasping it tight.
"Lady Jyana, I can't imagine the pain you're left with. I appreciate your allegiance, and we'll offer you some protection, on your journey home. Another 50 men, to help aide the castle, and some food stores."
Jyana's brown eyes filled with relieved tears. She squeezed Sansa's hand, nodding.
"My brother? Did you ever hear of him?" she asked, her voice lower. Jyana hiccuped.
"They only left a note, said they were going to help the three eyed raven." she said. "We don't know what it means, we looked for them for years m'lady, but I'm worried they perished beyond the wall."
Sansa looked behind her shoulder at Jon, and shook her head. His face didn't change, but she saw his fist tighten in frustration.
"Stay and rest, a few days, let us worry about the housekeeping efforts and food." Sansa offered her a kind smile. "I know it can be an exhaustive effort."
Sansa pinkened, and felt her own emotions now pressing at the back of her eyes.
"Thank you." she said. She turned to a steward. "Prepare a bedroom, and a hot meal for Lady Reed. Let her take her leave for a few days before you return to Greywater."
"Aye." he said.
"Thank you again, m'lady." Jyana said. "They'll write songs about you someday, my child, of your kindness, and your strength."
Sansa returned to her chair beside Jon, and leaned towards him.
"Was that alright?" she asked. He nodded. "Should we start a search party, for Bran?"
"Starting where?" he asked, and she heard a hint of anger in his tone. "We can't risk it. Even a small party...with what's out there...Bran is probably already dead." he said, low and flat.
This sentence slapped her as hard as if he'd done it with his own hand.
He stood, storming off.
She fell against the wood, numb.
Night had broken beyond the castle. Stars blossomed in the night sky, and the chill had crept up into the very bones of everyone in the castle. Sansa had retired to her chamber, embroidering next to the fire.
There was a knock at the wooden door, and she stood. She crossed the chamber, and carefully pulled it open.
Jon waited, looking fairly guilty.
"I'm sorry, about earlier."
"I know." she grinned, and stepped back, letting him in.
"I just get...so angry...when I can't do what I'm meant to. Protect my family." he said. She nodded, motioning for him to sit in the chair beside hers. "I almost abandoned the wall, when Robb was rebelling. I left and everything, and some friends smarter than I dragged me back. Didn't think Robb would be forced to execute me by the time I got there, I suppose."
"Your as loyal as that wolf of yours." she said, smiling. "I admire it, Jon."
"Do you think we should be worried about Howland? There's a chance he knows the truth."
"The man hardly knows his own name." Sansa said. "I doubt he will come to and recall you're the son of another Stark."
"You're a good person to talk sense." he said, leaning back.
"I've seen your anger, Jon." Sansa whispered. She leaned forward, resting her hand on his shoulder. She tried to ignore the hardness of the muscle there. "I know you can use it, to your benefit. I saw you nearly...nearly kill him. That anger I didn't know existed before recently, but it's that anger that will save us both."
He looked at her in the firelight, again, taken aback by her beauty. How her features nearly softened in the dim light.
He was struck suddenly by the thought of a different life. He felt, stupidly, for a moment, as though he was just a farmer beside his wife, somewhere in the north, a quiet, easy, normal life. Maybe that's all he wanted.
But that was not his life now.
He reached for Sansa's hand on his shoulder, and held it there.
"How are you feeling, now?" he asked.
"Quite well. Almost a little eager, actually." she touched her stomach. "I'm not sure if that eagerness is out of fear or something else...but it feels eager. You helped me see it differently." she looked down, looping an embroidery thread around her finger. She tightened it, squeezing the tip so it turned white. "I've been hoping to ask you about something." she said.
"Anything." he said.
"When you were younger...really young...how did you feel not knowing who your mother was?"
He sat in silence for a long moment. Sansa wondered if he was going to answer at all.
"When I thought of it...incredibly empty. Unbalanced. Lonely. It helped, having all you, of course."
Sansa nodded, and brushed away a tear that had fallen.
"Sansa...I'm fine now, I mean...I was a child-"
"I know." she said quickly. She stood, setting her embroidery aside, and crossed the room to the window. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass. She watched her breath turn to fog against the windowpane. She pressed her hand against her belly. She wasn't sure she was ready for this, and again thought of the other option. But horror stories of the potion had scared her half to death as a child, and she couldn't put herself at risk in a time as delicate as these.
Jon stood, following her to the window.
"I don't want him to feel like that." she said. She pressed her hands again, into her middriff. "He doesn't deserve that. You didn't." she cried, and put her face in her hands.
He was struck by this sentiment. Sansa, while as strong and proud as her mother, didn't have the coldness Catelyn tended to. She was delicate, sometimes, and only showed it to him, he realized. Another secret they shared.
"He'll know." he said. "I'll be there, Sansa. As close to a father as he could possibly have. He won't have to know otherwise."
"He'll know we're brother and sister, Jon."
"Not for a long time. And we're not, anymore, you do remember? All he'll know is his mother and father. "
"You don't have to do that for me." she whispered.
"I do, because I said I will, and I love you, Sansa."
She reached for him, resting her head against his chest, relishing the feeling of his arms around her.
"Stay." she said. She buried her face into his neck, inhaling the smell of him, the smell of home. "Stay with me."