As I have said before in the first chapter: Sansa Stark is my favourite character and this story's purpose is to have good things happening to her. Therefore, a bit of Deus ex machina was necessary.

Varulven

Two moons had passed since the grand wedding of Sansa and Gwayne, and Winterfell had settled into a sense of tranquil contentment. Sansa felt as if she were living a dream, her days bathed in the warm light of marital bliss. On this particular morning, she decided to take a leisurely stroll through the godswood, where the ancient heart tree stood, its carved face a silent witness to the many tales of House Stark.

As she walked beneath the towering branches, the leaves rustling softly in the breeze, Sansa couldn't help but smile. Thoughts of Gwayne, his affectionate nature, and the deep love he held for her filled her heart with warmth. She remembered the moments they had shared since becoming man and wife—quiet mornings, whispered confidences, and stolen kisses during council meetings that made her heart race.

Gwayne had embraced his new role as her steward and master of coin with a seriousness that impressed Sansa. His dedication to the management of Winterfell's affairs had not gone unnoticed. Under his guidance, the castle's finances had seen a marked improvement, and the people of the North were beginning to notice the positive changes in their daily lives.

Sansa was proud of her husband's commitment to their shared vision for the North. She knew that together they could make their land prosperous and just, a beacon of hope in these tumultuous times. As the Lady of Winterfell, she had found her equal in Gwayne, a partner who shared her dreams and ambitions for their home.

As she reached the heart tree, Sansa placed her hand against its ancient, weathered trunk and closed her eyes. She offered a silent prayer of gratitude for the happiness she had found with Gwayne and for the future they would build together. The godswood, with its serene beauty, seemed to whisper its blessings to her, and Sansa felt more connected to her roots than ever before.

As Sansa sat beneath an ancient linden tree, taking a moment to rest and collect her thoughts, she suddenly felt a strange sensation wash over her. A wave of light-headedness and nausea gripped her, causing her to clutch at the grass beneath her.

Before she could ponder the cause of her discomfort, a loud noise shattered the stillness of the godswood. It was a thunderous sound, as if something large and powerful was approaching. Sansa's heart quickened, and she rose to her feet, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger.

Emerging from the dense thicket, a colossal figure came into view. It was a direwolf, its fur a mesmerizing shade of silver-grey, larger as Ghost she had last seen him in Winterfell. Sansa's initial shock gave way to a mixture of astonishment and wonder.

The direwolf moved with a regal grace, its amber eyes focused solely on her. It didn't bear any signs of aggression; instead, there was an air of reverence in its demeanour. It stepped closer, its massive form casting a shadow over Sansa.

At first, Sansa felt a momentary surge of fear—an instinctive response to the presence of such a formidable creature. But as the wolf continued to approach, its eyes locked onto hers, something extraordinary began to transpire.

Deep within her, Sansa felt a spark—an ethereal connection that transcended the ordinary. It was a sensation akin to the moment she had placed the crown of the North upon her head, or when she had exchanged vows with Gwayne beneath the heart tree. It was as if the ancient gods themselves were at work.

The massive direwolf drew even closer, its snout nearly touching Sansa's face. It seemed to inhale deeply, its sensitive nose taking in the scents that surrounded her. There was an almost ritualistic quality to its actions, as if it were recognizing her, becoming intimately familiar with her essence.

Sansa held her breath as she felt the warmth of the wolf's breath against her skin. It was a sensation unlike any other, and she couldn't help but marvel at the sheer presence of this magnificent creature.

Then, something unexpected happened. The wolf emitted a low, rumbling growl. It was not a growl of aggression, but rather one of contentment—a deep, resonant sound that seemed to vibrate through the air. Sansa could feel the vibrations in her very bones.

Sansa didn't dare move. She remained still, her eyes locked onto the wolf's amber gaze. It was as if they were communicating in a language beyond words—a shared understanding of the ancient bond between the Starks and the direwolves.

At that moment, surrounded by the hallowed trees of the godswood, Sansa felt a profound sense of unity with the North, with the land, and with the creatures that had long been a part of its history. It was a moment of pure connection, a reminder of the responsibilities she carried as the Lady of Winterfell and the Queen in the North.

The direwolf lowered itself to the ground, its massive form settling with surprising grace. Its head, still held high, gradually descended until it rested gently on Sansa's stomach. The growl of contentment continued, and Sansa marvelled at the sensation of the wolf's heavy head against her.

It was then that Sansa noticed something unusual about the wolf's appearance. Its fur looked thick, almost plush, and there was a certain roundness to its form that she hadn't expected. Her gaze lingered on the creature, and a realization slowly began to dawn upon her.

The wolf appeared to be... pregnant.

Sansa's heart skipped a beat as she considered this revelation. She remembered the tales she had heard of direwolves, how fiercely loyal they were to their human companions. The thought that one of these majestic creatures might be carrying a litter of pups was both wondrous and heart warming.

Tentatively, she reached out a hand to gently stroke the wolf's fur. It didn't react, its contented growling persisting. She could feel the wolf's warmth, its steady breathing beneath her touch.

Sansa couldn't help but smile as she continued to stroke the wolf. It was as though the wolf had sought her out, not with aggression, but with a desire for connection. She felt a deep kinship with the creature, as if they shared some unspoken understanding.

As Sansa continued to stroke the pregnant direwolf's fur, a curious thought crossed her mind. She hadn't experienced her monthly moon blood since the time of her wedding to Gwayne, which was now two moons ago. At first, she had dismissed it as a minor irregularity, perhaps due to the excitement and changes in her life. But now, as she sat beneath the linden tree with the massive wolf, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.

It wasn't just the fatigue and occasional nausea that she had experienced in recent weeks. It was the absence of her monthly courses, a natural occurrence that had been a part of her life for years. She realized that she might be carrying a different kind of life within her—a child.

The revelation filled her with a mixture of emotions—surprise, wonder, and a touch of anxiety. She had always known that, as Lady of Winterfell and the North, bearing an heir was an essential part of her duty. Yet, her relationship with Gwayne was still so new, and their marriage had only recently been celebrated. She hadn't expected to conceive so soon.

Sansa glanced down at the pregnant direwolf beside her, and it seemed as though the animal, in its own mysterious way, had brought her to this realization. She felt a deep connection with the creature, almost as if it were a guardian spirit guiding her through this moment of revelation.

Sansa stood beneath the ancient linden tree in the godswood, her thoughts racing as she contemplated the life-changing revelation she had just experienced. The massive, pregnant direwolf had been a silent witness to her inner turmoil. She knew she needed to find Gwayne and share this news with him, for it would shape their future together.

As she turned to leave the godswood, she couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude toward the direwolf that had accompanied her. Its presence had been almost ethereal, as if it were a guardian of the sacred trees, guiding her through a moment of profound realization.

With a final, lingering glance at the direwolf, Sansa whispered her gratitude and walked away, feeling a newfound sense of purpose and determination. The direwolf remained beneath the heart tree, its intense gaze following her until she disappeared from view.

Sansa's heart raced as she made her way through Winterfell's corridors in search of Gwayne. Her steps were quick and determined, her thoughts focused on the revelation she needed to share with him. She had to find him, and quickly.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally spotted him in the castle's library, engrossed in a book. She approached him, her voice trembling with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty.

"Gwayne," she said softly, her eyes locking onto his. "There's something I need to tell you. Something extraordinary has happened in the godswood."

Gwayne looked up from his book, his eyes meeting Sansa's with concern. "What is it, my love? You seem quite agitated."

Sansa took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as she placed them on his. "I... I haven't had my moon blood since our wedding, and earlier in the godswood, I encountered a direwolf—a massive one, and she's pregnant."

Gwayne's eyes widened with understanding as he processed the implications of Sansa's words. "You mean... you think that you might be..."

Sansa nodded, her eyes glistening with emotion. "Yes, I believe I might be with child. The direwolf, it was as if she was trying to convey something to me, to guide me to this realization."

Gwayne's face broke into a wide, joyful smile, and he pulled Sansa into his arms, embracing her tightly. "Sansa, this is wonderful news! A child of our own—a Stark heir."

Tears of happiness filled Sansa's eyes as she rested her head against Gwayne's chest. "Yes, it is incredible, isn't it? I wanted to share this moment with you, my love."

Gwayne kissed the top of her head and held her close. "I couldn't be happier, Sansa. Our family is growing, and our love is stronger than ever. This is a blessing from the gods."

Sansa nodded, her heart overflowing with love for the man who had brought so much happiness into her life. They stood together in the library, wrapped in each other's arms, their hearts filled with hope and anticipation for the future.

Sansa's face radiated excitement as she spoke, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Can you believe it, Gwayne? The direwolf! It's a sign, a message from the old gods. I think it's trying to tell us something important."

Gwayne's curiosity was piqued, and he nodded. "It's a remarkable occurrence, Sansa. I've never heard of anything quite like this. What do you think it means?"

Sansa's smile widened. "I believe it's a blessing, a sign of the gods' favour. The direwolf, heavy with pups, is a symbol of life, strength, and fertility. I think it's telling us that our love is destined to bring life and hope to the North."

Sansa's revelation hung in the air like a precious secret, shared only between the two of them. Gwayne's fingers gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face as he continued to absorb the significance of her words.

He let out a deep, contented sigh. "A child, our child," he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and joy. "Sansa, this is the greatest gift you could have given me."

Sansa's eyes shimmered with unshed tears of happiness. "I was so worried about the responsibilities of ruling and the politics of our lands that I forgot to pay attention to the signs within me. But that direwolf, Gwayne, it felt like a message from the old gods, a reminder that life and hope endure even in the harshest of winters."

Gwayne's lips gently found hers in a tender kiss, sealing their shared moment of profound happiness. "Our child will be a testament to our love, Sansa. A symbol of unity between our houses and a bright future for the North."

Sansa rested her head on his shoulder, savouring the warmth of his embrace. "I know it won't be easy, Gwayne. Ruling a kingdom and being parents, it's a daunting task."

Gwayne's fingers softly traced circles on her back. "We will face every challenge together, my love. You are a remarkable ruler, and I am here to support you in any way I can. Our child will grow up with the wisdom and strength of both of its parents."

Sansa realized, that if this really was a sign of the gods, she had to return something, giving something back to the direwolf. She took Gwayne's hand and excitedly pulled him after her. "Follow me," she said full of excitement, "we need to go to the kitchens."

As they entered the bustling kitchen, the servants paused in their work, surprised by the unexpected appearance of the queen and her lord. Sansa quickly explained her purpose, her excitement palpable. "We need a hearty meal for our direwolf friend. Raw venison, fresh from the hunt, would be perfect."

The head cook, a portly woman with a kind smile, nodded in agreement. "Of course, Your Grace. We have some fine venison and its organs in the larder. I'll have it prepared right away."

With the large basket filled with venison and assorted organs in his strong arms, Gwayne walked alongside Sansa, the excitement in her eyes and the joy in her voice infectious. The castle's bustling kitchens slowly faded into the background as they made their way towards the godswood, the canopy of ancient trees looming overhead.

As they stepped into the godswood, the atmosphere changed. The rustling leaves, the dappled sunlight filtering through the branches, and the soft sounds of birds created a serene and mystical ambiance. The pregnant direwolf lay where Sansa had left her earlier, resting beneath the heart tree.

Upon seeing Sansa and Gwayne approach, the direwolf raised her head, her eyes filled with curiosity. Her thick, silver fur seemed to shimmer in the dappled sunlight, and her size was truly impressive. There was a majestic quality about her that inspired awe, especially in Gwayne who had never seen such a creature before.

With the direwolf still resting in the shade of the heart tree, Sansa moved closer to Gwayne, her eyes shimmering with excitement. She extended her hand, palm open, and placed it gently on the direwolf's massive shoulder. The direwolf allowed Sansa's touch, her fur soft and warm beneath her hand.

"This is her, Gwayne," Sansa said softly, her voice filled with reverence. "The magnificent creature who shared a moment with me in the godswood, as if she sensed something special about us."

Gwayne watched the direwolf cautiously, his usual confidence giving way to caution in the presence of such a powerful and enigmatic creature. His hand hovered above her fur, hesitating to make contact.

Sansa encouraged him with a gentle smile. "She's not dangerous, Gwayne. I promise. There's something about her, something almost magical. It's as if she's a guardian of the godswood, watching over Winterfell."

With Sansa's reassurance, Gwayne finally summoned the courage to touch the direwolf. He cautiously extended his hand and allowed it to rest on her thick, silver fur. He could feel the warmth of the direwolf's body beneath his touch, and her muscles shifted as she breathed.

The direwolf turned her head to regard Gwayne, her eyes filled with curiosity and a sense of calm that put him at ease. He began to stroke her gently, his fingers sinking into her thick fur. "She's... she's truly remarkable," he admitted, his voice touched with wonder.

Sansa nodded in agreement; her eyes bright with pride. "I knew you'd understand, Gwayne. There's something extraordinary about her presence here."

As they continued to interact with the direwolf, Gwayne's initial hesitancy gave way to a sense of awe and reverence. He marvelled at the connection that Sansa seemed to share with the creature and the sense of wonder that hung in the air.

Sansa approached the direwolf with reverence, a soft smile on her face. "Here you go, girl," she said gently, placing a piece of venison on the ground before her. The direwolf watched Sansa intently, her powerful jaws snapping up the offering with a grace that defied her size.

Gwayne followed suit, carefully placing pieces of meat and organs around the direwolf. He marvelled at the creature's size and presence, realizing that he was in the presence of something truly extraordinary.

Sansa continued to speak to the direwolf in soothing tones as they fed her. "You're a magnificent creature, aren't you?" she mused, her fingers brushing lightly against the thick fur on the direwolf's back.

The direwolf seemed to respond to Sansa's words, her tail wagging slightly. It was as if she understood the queen's admiration and affection.

Gwayne watched Sansa, captivated by the connection between her and the direwolf. "It's remarkable, Sansa. The way she's taken to you, as if she recognizes you as part of her pack."

Sansa glanced at Gwayne with a smile, her eyes reflecting the warmth of her heart. "I believe there's something truly special about this direwolf, Gwayne. She's a symbol of hope and renewal for us, a reminder that even in Winterfell's darkest moments, there's still magic in these woods."

Her fingers absent mindedly brushed over the fur of the direwolf. The feeling of connection and understanding with the creature was undeniable, and a name began to form in her mind—a name that resonated with a deep sense of familiarity.

"Fylgja," Sansa whispered softly to herself, testing the name as it danced on her lips. She turned to Gwayne with a look of realization and excitement in her eyes. "Gwayne, I think I have a name for her—Fylgja."

Gwayne regarded Sansa with a curious expression. "Fylgja? That sounds familiar; where did I hear that name before?"

Sansa's face lit up with a nostalgic smile. "It's an old word from the stories Old Nan used to tell me when I was a child. She said it meant 'spirit' or 'guardian' in the ancient tongue. It feels right, doesn't it? She's like a guardian of the godswood, watching over us and Winterfell."

Gwayne considered the name for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "Fylgja, I must have heard some of these stories, too. Yes, it's a fitting name for her. She does seem to have a protective presence about her."

Sansa's smile widened, and she continued to stroke Fylgja's fur as they walked. It felt as if they had discovered something truly special in the heart of Winterfell's godswood, a connection that transcended the ordinary.

"Fylgja," Sansa said again, this time addressing the direwolf directly. "Welcome to Winterfell, Fylgja. You are a part of this place, just as we are."

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows through the trees, they decided it was time to return to the castle.

Sansa's hand remained intertwined with Gwayne's as they made their way back along the winding path that led out of the godswood. Fylgja, seemingly content to stay in the sacred space, watched them with her keen amber eyes but made no move to follow.

As they approached the towering walls of Winterfell, Sansa couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude. "Gwayne," she began, her voice soft but filled with emotion, "thank you for sharing this day with me. It's been... extraordinary."

Gwayne squeezed her hand gently, a warm smile on his lips. "Sansa, I couldn't imagine a more remarkable day. To witness the bond between you and Fylgja, it's something I won't soon forget."

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the weight of their shared experiences settling around them like a cosy cloak. It was moments like these, away from the demands of court and politics, that made Sansa truly appreciate the beauty of Winterfell.

Upon their return to the castle, they made their way to Sansa's chambers, where the warm glow of hearth fire welcomed them. Fylgja's absence was noted, but they knew she had found her place beneath the heart tree for now.

As they settled into the cosiness of the chamber, Sansa couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected turn of events. Fylgja, the direwolf, had become a symbol of something more—a guardian spirit of Winterfell, a reminder of the magic that still lingered in the world.

The night had draped its velvety darkness over Winterfell, and in the cosy confines of their chamber, Sansa and Gwayne prepared for rest. The flickering light of candles cast dancing shadows on the stone walls, creating a warm and intimate atmosphere. Their shared day in the godswood had left them with a profound sense of connection, and they couldn't help but look forward to the future.

As Sansa slipped under the covers of their large bed, Gwayne joined her, his presence a comforting and reassuring weight. With tender affection, he placed his hand gently on her belly, a gesture filled with anticipation and hope. They had both come to realize that the subtle signs of Sansa's condition pointed towards a blessed event on the horizon.

Sansa's heart swelled with tenderness as she looked into Gwayne's eyes. "It won't be long now," she whispered, her voice soft and filled with wonder. "Our family will grow, and Winterfell will have another Stark."

Gwayne's smile was radiant in the dim light of the chamber. "I look forward to that day," he murmured, his fingers tracing small circles on her abdomen. "To holding our child in my arms and knowing that they are part of the most remarkable woman I've ever known."

Sansa's cheeks flushed with a mixture of love and gratitude. She reached out, gently cupping his face with her hand. "And I look forward to seeing you as a father," she said, her voice filled with sincerity. "I have no doubt that you will be a loving and devoted one."

They lingered in the quietude of the chamber, their thoughts drifting to the future. The journey that had brought them together, from a chance encounter during the Tourney of the Singers to this shared moment in Winterfell, had been nothing short of remarkable. Now, as they prepared to embark on a new chapter as a family, they couldn't help but feel blessed.

With one final loving gaze exchanged, they settled in under the covers, their hands entwined, and the soft rustling of the hearth fire as their lullaby. As sleep gradually claimed them, dreams of the future danced through their minds, carrying with them the promise of love, family, and enduring happiness.

I hope you liked this chapter. From this point onward, you can expect much more and longer time-skips.

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