SANSA STARK
Day 5, 12th Moon, 275 AC
Beside Mother on the featherbed with Grandmother on a seat beside it, Mother's talk about considered babe names came to a close.
There was a topic Sansa wanted yet hesitated to discuss but broached it in the lull of conversation. "Mother?" she asked with demure which made Grandmother lean in to listen as well.
Mother caught the tone, and her eyes were on Sansa. "Yes, sweetling?"
Sansa stayed in the hold of Mother's loving arms and spoke. "Cat seems confident in fulfilling the duties of a high lady," she said surely. "However, Lysa hasn't shown much interest in such things." Her younger sister didn't participate in the duties Sansa and Cat shared.
Grandmother lightly hummed in agreement from Mother's other side. "She tends to leave the duties to Catelyn and Sansa, though they manage it rather well between the two of them," she interjected. "It would give Lysa the impression she isn't needed. Unless she's given routine duties she'll continue thinking that."
In bed but fully awake, Mother slowly nodded. "Had it not been for the incident with Petyr, and Lysa's romantic interest coming to light, I wouldn't be concerned," Mother said with an idle thumb on Sansa's hand and nodded to Grandmother. "Your father too, Sansa. At Lysa's age, Catelyn was well on her way to being prepared to marry someone like the Starks. I dismissed the difference before, believing Lysa would be ready when the time came. That she simply learned at a slower pace."
Sansa blinked at the news and nudged the conversation along. "What changed?"
Mother smiled up at her. "You."
"Me?" Sansa repeated, her mind churning. "How, Mother?" She couldn't keep the stun out of her voice, and both Mother and Grandmother chuckled. That Sansa had had a hand in it dominated her thoughts.
Mother weaved her own fingers with Sansa's and met her eyes. "You're a dedicated girl who learnt what a high lady must know in a short time, my daughter. You and Catelyn are ready for such duties and one day will be high ladies. However, Lysa's neglect towards learning a lady's duties and how she defended that Baelish boy told me she needs a different kind of marriage."
Sansa's mind stirred. "And you've discussed this with Father?" she asked. If Lysa married into a bannerman house, Petyr would find manipulating her less beneficial to his ladder of chaos.
Mother stroked Sansa's hair. "Yes, sweetling. Your father has organised for her to join houses with a riverlord. When Lysa is old enough, she will marry their heir."
Sansa stared at her mother. The extent of change this could have in the future was exponential. Petyr had used Lysa to start the War of the Five Kings and begin his accumulation of power. But there were other houses he could use, other girls and women, to manipulate Westeros behind the scenes. Petyr's original nudges and grasped opportunities had begun shy of a decade from now. The near future should still be predictable.
Grandmother broke the silence. "The lord has already visited to discuss Lysa," she told Sansa, to which Mother nodded. "She's all but considered betrothed until she's old enough to make it official. Not that she knows yet."
Nodding, Sansa turned and took Mother's hand within her own. "I'm glad you found someone for her, Mother."
"So am I," Mother said quietly. "He's a considerate boy with firm parents."
The bedchamber fell into calm silence, and Sansa took the opportunity to think. Naturally, the future would be different since she would attempt to prevent the Waste of Westeros. Anything that changed would open the door to numerous divergences. She just didn't know what.
How will Baelish use or benefit from these events? she wondered grimly.
The door opening drew her attention, and Father came in. "Sansa, I thought you'd be here," he said and stood beside the featherbed and Sansa took the hint, getting off so he could be with Mother. "If all is well, I'd appreciate a private word with just your mother."
"Of course, Father. I love you, Mother."
Mother looked at her fondly. "And I, sweetling."
Leaning down, she pecked Mother's cheek and left with Grandmother, who wrapped an arm around her back until she cupped her far shoulder, leading her through the keep, inner gatehouse and out to the baileys. Grandmother's gentle guidance resulted in them alone within the Godswood.
"Little one, childbed is a mother's battle. One your mother has been through many times," she said and kissed Sansa's forehead. "Having your uncles, aunt, and mother was hard work for me as well."
Sansa couldn't help her sigh slipping out. "But so much bed rest can't be a good sign."
Grandmother held Sansa to her chest. "Not necessarily. There are no certainties about childbed. Calmness helps though, and you've given your mother that aplenty. When the day comes, I will be with her. The presence of a lady's mother, someone experienced and trusted, helps her calm her mind if needed," she said and stroked Sansa's hair. "What you need to do is be calm as well. If you, Catelyn or Lysa panic, it won't help your mother. I could tell you're fearful, Sansa. Luckily your mother was too distracted to notice."
Sansa swallowed and nodded.
"Good. Now, I'll go back to your mother, and you'll have a ride on Grace to think about something, Sansa. You've eased everything for Mother in all ways you could. And when her child comes, I'm here to help her through it. She won't be alone, and needs her family calm and relaxed," she told her, brooking no argument. "I'll send someone to find you if necessary. Take the northeastern drawbridge."
"I understand, Grandmother. I will."
Forgoing her riding gloves, Sansa left the Godswood and approached Henric, who met her gaze and seemed to read her intentions, quickly ordering the stableboys to tack Grace and bring her out.
Dusk was strapped to her thigh as usual, and as she waited Sansa pondered why Lady Daena gave a little girl who made dresses a quality dagger she should've kept. The woman had spoken Westerosi as smoothly as she'd used Braavosi bastard Valyrian like a professional translator.
With the help of Henric, Sansa mounted her grey mare and rode out of Riverrun onto the open peaceful ground. On a hill and watching the Red Fork, her mind flowed as well, but with thoughts of Mother.
On a crest atop her horse nibbling grass, Sansa argued within her own mind. Grandmother had made some good points but history said Mother and the babe boy died. However, Sansa had done all possible so Mother could rest and relax, and her presence also brought her grandparents to Riverrun well in time for Grandmother to help with childbed.
Mother has a better chance this time...
With a heart so gentle, so kind as Mother's, she wanted nothing more than for Fate to spare her mother and the babe, so Mother wouldn't be devastated. Mothers commonly died in childbed, case in point Walder Frey's wives, but the thought of it for Sansa's loved mother tore her heart to pieces.
I love my mother. Gods, please have mercy for my mother with this babe. If…if you can't…If…if you can't, please spare the babe…Let Mother live, please…
Hooves thundered towards her. "Sansa!" Snapping out of her prayer, she turned towards the voice. Oberyn galloped atop an unsaddled Blaze. "Your mother," he said but faltered upon looking at her. "It's time."
Sansa needed no other words and spurred Grace. Crossing the bridge at a canter, she came to a hard stop and handed over the reins. Screams reached her ears, and Sansa ran through the halls. Remembering Grandmother's words, she took a bracing breath and entered the chamber reserved for childbed where Sansa joined Grandmother, the midwives and Maester Kym.
She'd been present for a dressmaker's babe in Braavos, so nothing surprised her. However, as a child, Sansa couldn't assist. Instead, she turned to Mother and took a seat; Sansa laced her fingers with Mother's to give what support she could. Lysa was absent. However, on the other side of the mattress, Cat sat doing the same.
"I was here for Edmure's," Cat told her, eyes on Sansa. "It's best to stay seated, Sansa."
Her name was forced, but it made Sansa blink. There'd been no thawing between her and Cat, unlike the slow one between Lysa and Sansa now. Although Lysa was neutral towards Sansa, it paled compared to Cat's hatred.
Sansa watched Mother, whose eyes were drawn to the sight of them on either side of her. "My girls…" Whatever she was going to say went unfinished; she cried out.
At the end of the bed, Grandmother called to Mother. "I know, Minisa, I know, love. It's not time yet. Resist the urge, love. Talk to Catelyn and Sansa."
The grip on Sansa's hand was too gentle, so she hardened hers and rubbed Mother's arm with her spare hand. "Don't worry about my hand, Mother. I know," she said, and the grip from Mother tightened enough that Sansa would have an ache come morning. "That's better," she said with a smile.
Mother smiled back, panting but rested the hands she had of Cat and Sansa atop each other. "My twin jewels. Beautiful...clever...sweet," she said slowly then gasped and moaned, gripping their hands until her fingers relaxed again. "Sisters should love each other" she whispered quickly before she took a gulping breath and huffed.
Sansa nodded to Mother and pecked her cheek. "I promise, Mother," she whispered against her cheek and rested her forehead lightly on Mother's neck. "I love you."
At the sign of Mother needing Sansa's hand, she sat up and entwined it again so it could be squeezed.
She could do little in the busy childbed chamber, but that didn't matter because her heart wanted to be beside Mother. Between the contractions and Grandmother's encouragements, Sansa murmured sweet nothings into Mother's ear, but the timing between them shortened fast.
Sansa gently ran cool linen across Mother's forehead and prayed in her mind. If she worried Mother with her thoughts, it would only increase the stress. Sansa could have cried tears, but she kept them in. She could have let her fear bring sobs, but she kept it in. She could have turned incoherent, but she stamped it down with cold logic.
Over and over, Sansa spotted Maester Kym's concern and didn't know if he'd been like this during Edmure's birth. Across their mother, Cat seemed more focused on composure and Mother than the maester. Words of other women went unheard because Sansa thumbed the back of Mother's palm instead, whose glance warmed her until the pain retook Mother.
Eyes on the sheets, Sansa filled with dread, for there was blood already. Surely that wasn't normal. From the other people's darting eyes and quick whispers, something was wrong.
What caused Mother's death last time? Sansa didn't know, which terrified her; hopefully, no one noticed it. Giving cause for Mother to worry was among the last things she desired, so she kept it in. She didn't want to lose Mother. The only mother she will ever have now.
Taking a moment to rest her unlaced hand, Sansa's fingers brushed against her concealed pocket. The shape inside made Sansa snap her gaze towards the blood on the sheets and then at her wrist. Could it work that way? Would it? Should I try?
Maester Kym's following words made the decision for her. "There's too much blood," he told a midwife. "Retrieve clean linens."
Grandmother huffed at the maester. "Don't be so ominous. Drop the dramatic flair or get out. Six times my sheets were quite like these."
Sansa swallowed her nerves and silently grasped onto Grandmother's words, but the maester's wouldn't leave her mind. "Cat, could you get Mother fresh water from the kitchens, please?"
Cat met Sansa's eyes and silently carried the lukewarm water out the door.
Keeping herself discreet by the headboard, Sansa glanced at the maester, Grandmother and midwives but returned her gaze to Mother. She took the vial out of her pocket; her thumbnail removed the cork. Mother's pain muffled the cork's bounce on the wooden floor.
The vial held by her knees, Sansa inhaled to fight her nerves and slipped the small metal goblet from the bedside table. Sansa glanced at the others. Busy. Either lace the water now or never.
Silent, she gave it to Mother with uncertainty which gnawed at her conscience. Unfocused, Mother swallowed. If this kills Mother, I'll never forgive myself. I'd be a monster.
Sansa put the goblet down and snuck the vial into her pocket. Rubbing Mother's hand, Sansa took a breath when Mother was urged to push again.
At Mother's side, Sansa prayed to all the gods there could possibly be that Mother survived this. This caring lady, now bathed in sunlight, may not have given Sansa life, but Mother's heart had made sure life held happiness again. No one else could deserve life more.
Wrapping her fingers with Mother's, Sansa cupped it with the other and held it to her chin; a silent prayer said over and over with her eyes closed. Eyes moistened; hearing went deaf. The cry of a babe pierced the air. Sansa's eyes shot open and met Catelyn's.
"A hale and healthy son, my lady," said Maester Kym formally.
Grandmother huffed. "Gods help me," she grumbled under her breath. "Maester Kym, my daughter needs peace and quiet. Your part is done. Out, and leave Minisa be. Treat an injured guard with liniment or something." The maester scowled at Grandmother before he left.
Sansa couldn't believe it and her heart slowed. Her eyes brimmed and, in her joy, she was on the verge of tears. One midwife held the babe still while the other wiped him clean and wrapped the tiny boy warmly in linens.
He's alive. My brother. Gods, he survived. He survived. Sansa gave Mother a wide smile. "Mother…he's beautiful."
Grandmother brought the babe near Mother for her to hold. "He's perfect, Minisa."
But Mother's expression remained painful, and she shook her head. "Give him to Cat. Cat, your father." Cat obeyed, carrying the babe from the chamber.
The grip on Sansa's hand tightened once more. It made no sense; history said there'd been one boy, who died soon after childbed. Had the second babe died within her?
Mother's scream rented the air once more. The same way as before.
Grandmother rushed to Mother and ran her hands over her belly. "One more, twins, my sweet," she said and looked over her shoulder to the midwives. "Prepare water and linen for another. Don't bother chasing after the maester. There's nothing left for him to do."
With a gentle hand, Sansa moved the brown locks from Mother's neck and did what she could to cool it down. Sansa had thought it had ended, that Mother survived childbed, but now another was coming. All Sansa could do now was hope Mother would endure and live.
The second child came into the world seemingly years later.
Grandmother came over and stroked Mother's forehead. "Just like his brother, my girl," she said, kissed Mother's cheek and rejoined the midwives.
Trembling to control her relief, Sansa watched them prepare the babe just as they had with the first. When a hand removed itself from Sansa's, she glanced down. Mother reached for Sansa's cheek and held it. "Sweetling…thank you," she said, voice weak and her face tired.
Sansa's throat went tight. "Whatever it takes." She cupped Mother's face; her surviving mother.
Mother smiled up at her. "Go get your father, Sansa."
Too emotional to hold back, Sansa embraced her mother with gentle arms and kissed her cheek; relief washed through her body in waves. "You live. You live, Mother. You live."
"Such a heart." Mother gave a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Your father, Sansa."
She pulled herself away from Mother, nodded like a fool and left the childbed chamber. Outside, Father cradled the first infant. He looked up at the sound of steps. "Sansa?"
"Another boy, Father," she told him unashamed of the wetness within her eyes; tears yet to fall. "Mother's asking for you."
Father passed her. She brought her hands to her mouth and wiped her eyes. They were alive, and Mother would live.
She glanced over where Cat and Lysa sat nearby. Taking tentative steps, Sansa joined her sisters.
Cat spoke up. "You acted as though she is your own mother." Intent on staying out of a verbal spar with Cat, Sansa ignored the jab and rested her head against the wall. "Don't think being present changed anything."
Father, Uncle, or my grandparents will tire of her nonsense eventually, she reminded herself. Disgusted by the ridiculous behaviour, Sansa looked away from Cat, and her fingers touched the vial she'd carried since the cut near her wrist in the Hall of History with Oberyn.
"A sip is often enough."
But that was about her wrist. With Mother, she had taken a risk on impulse at the worry about blood. Thumbing the empty vial within her pocket, Sansa reflected on everything about Oberyn and his behaviour.
He'd left the day he'd arrived here the first time; in the halls, he eyed Mother studiously when she was with Sansa. The library and his list. He went to Lannisport, a place said to sell all kinds of goods. The racing gallop to Riverrun three days ago.
I don't believe in coincidences. If his ship sailed from Sunspear to Lannisport, then returning to Riverrun held no benefit except hiding from annoyed Lannisters. His ship had left the Saltpans, which made going northeast a pointless direction. Whatever the case, his presence, with the addition of Grandmother's efforts, resulted in Mother's survival and not one, but two hale and living babes. More than she could have asked for.
At the sound of women leaving the chamber, Sansa rose intending to enter. However, Grandmother reentered alone and closed the door, thus leaving the girls out in the hall. Wandering over to the window and gazing into the inner courtyard of Riverrun, Sansa opened the window and leaned against the sill.
Breeze on her face, she exhaled, and all her pent-up tension melted away. She had a mother still and two new younger brothers.
The hairs on her neck stood. Keeping her position, Sansa focused on her peripheral vision. Cat was ushered into the chamber by Grandmother. Lysa and herself were left in the hall. Most likely, they'd see their brothers one at a time, so the babes weren't disturbed by the presence of too many people.
Sansa took the empty seat next to Lysa and kneaded her hands together in the silent hall. Eventually, she turned to Lysa. "Did they do this with Edmure?" she asked, garnering a look of confusion from Lysa. "One sister at a time?"
Lysa's eyes darted to the door, and she leaned in, her lighter blue eyes hesitant. "Yes. Mother was very weak from childbed with Edmure," Lysa whispered. She didn't sound worried about Mother like Sansa. Lysa was absent for childbed and thus no reason for a similar concern.
She couldn't help her nerves. She'd lost too many people she loved and wanted to know for sure that Mother would pull through. Unlike most instances where she controlled her emotions, she had a choice to walk to release them.
She took a corner but almost collided with Oberyn. Had it not been for his reflexes and grip, they'd have hit one another. "Oberyn, I should have watched myself. I'm sorry."
"You worry about your family. It's only natural." He lifted her chin, and their eyes met. "Why do you worry?"
"I remember Arya." She tried to rein back her concern. "It was not childbed that took Arya, but Arya was all I had. Now I have Mother, and I love her," she said, watching his face. "Two hale and healthy babes, but I heard Maester Kym's concerns. Grandmother called him dramatic..." Oberyn chuckled but she had to voice her lingering thoughts. "But what if he's right? What if I lose my mother?"
His expression held sympathy, and he removed the finger from under her chin. "The past was unkind to you. Mayhaps the gods will be kinder today," he said, offering the crook of his elbow.
Her hand on his arm, she let him lead her at a sedated pace back the way she'd come. She'd spoken her thoughts and remained quiet beside Oberyn. Scepticism lingered within her mind. She was accustomed to matters going wrong for herself and her family. Until she entered the chamber, she wouldn't know.
In the hall outside the childbed chamber with Oberyn, Sansa spotted Uncle Brynden holding the door open for Lysa, who walked away. Cat was nowhere to be seen. Uncle Brynden faltered when he spotted Sansa and kept the door open. Removing her arm, she glanced at Oberyn, who dipped his head and took a corner towards the guest wing. Sansa entered the childbed chamber alone.
Inside, Mother rested on the bed where she had last seen her, but in a fresh shift and hair tidier by far. Her new brothers were asleep together in a broad cradle at the bed's end. Father seated next to Mother with a light grip on her hand with both of his. Grandmother came over to the cradle and watched over her new brothers.
Coming closer, Sansa looked at the two babes and traced the cheek of each of them. Their hair was the red of a Tully but faces with the high Whent cheekbones; Mother and Father in equal portions. "What are their names?" Sansa whispered.
"Oswell, the eldest twin. After his great-uncle," Father said and gestured to the babe on the right. "And the youngest is Joseth. A nice name."
They slept in peace and looked healthy. Sansa's face softened at the hope they would survive infancy, and she gave the babes' hair a feather's touch.
"Sansa," Mother murmured, which drew her attention. Sansa sat on a stool by the bed and grasped Mother's hand, who rested their hands against her chest. "You've done so much for this family."
Her throat constricted. It sounded like Mother was going to say goodbye. Sansa blinked back tears and licked her lips. Her eyes landed on a small bowl with four pinches of a grain, a kind familiar from her time in The Eyrie.
"No..." She looked at Father, and he stared back sadly. With a breath, she broke the silence in but a whisper. "Why? Father, this can't be true. Please," she begged. Her heart was breaking from the Sweetsleep by Mother's bedside. It could be used as a sedative or a poison, a gentle poison. "Why?"
Mother glanced at Father, both surprised. And Mother's soft hand touched Sansa's knee. "Clever girl, although I wish you didn't know…Lysa and Cat don't know what's happening, but we had some time together," she said and cupped Sansa's cheek. "We have time, sweetling." A thumb stroked below her eye. "You don't have to be strong in front of me. Release it, my girl. I know you're in pain. A mother always knows."
Inhaling, Sansa rested her hand atop Mother's. "Mother, if I start-." She shook her head and squeezed Mother's hand. "I love you."
"As do I," Mother said and guided Sansa to lie against her on the bed, to tuck her head into Mother's neck. Fingers ran through Sansa's hair and the air of breath near her ear. "Sansa, you are my daughter. My girl." She lifted her head, and Mother nodded to her.
Father took the stool on the other side of Mother. "Minisa?" He claimed her hand with his own.
Mother brought his hand to her lips and rested their hands in his lap, hers within his. "She is our girl, our blood, Hoster."
"She is," he agreed firmly, which made Mother smile.
"Promise me you'll protect her. And she's strong enough to know what's happening."
"I promise, Minisa." Father turned to Sansa, and his eyes were grieved.
Swallowing, her eyes no doubt reflected his pain.
"She slowly bleeds, Sansa," he said. "Neither your grandmother nor Maester Kym understands how your mother is still among us. If she suffers and wants rest, Sweetsleep is the gentlest way for her."
She nodded and met Mother's eyes, her own moistening. What she'd done in the hope of saving Mother held too much risk to utter. And it had failed. Sansa closed her eyes and released a breath. A hand cupped her cheek, and a thumb ran across it. Eyes opened, hers met Mother's brown, whose lips were a warm smile. "Sansa, I know how much you feared this."
A blow to her heart. Sansa took a shuddering breath, and a tear escaped, followed by another. She suppressed the rest. "I know what is happening… I understand. I do." Her throat tightened, and behind her willpower hovered the sobs she fought back. "I love you, Mother. I-I-I I know, but I wish there was something I could do."
A soft hand stroked her back, and Mother brought her closer to hold her. "We have time, Sansa." Mother kissed her forehead, and fingers ran through her hair. "Sweetling, I want you to do something for me."
The words took an effort to come out. "Anything," she promised. "Anything, Mother."
Mother tilted her head, so their eyes met. "Every day, I wish you to go for a ride and remember our happy moments." She brushed loose hairs out of Sansa's face. "Those are the memories that matter."
Sansa nodded, eyes watery, her hand on Mother's shoulder. "I give you my word," Sansa swore with all her heart. "Every day I can."
"I know you will. Not once did you disappoint me or your father, Sansa." There would be silence but for a rustle that came from Mother on the bed. "Sansa." A smooth hand stroked her face. "Let out your pain. I know you have it, but you're using steel will to hold it back. Let it out."
Her tears began to fall now the dam holding them back had broken. Her breath shook, but she kept the sobs back; babes were in the chamber. Mother guided her up until her head rested against Mother's neck.
"Let it out, sweetling. It will help," Mother murmured, a hand on her cheek and thumbing the tears away. "Let it out."
Her face buried into Mother's neck, her grief muffled while it raked through her body. She shook with the breaths of sobs. Sansa was losing another of her family; her mother. A large hand rubbed her shoulder; the fingers curled around and gave a grounding grip. In her hair, Mother's small hand cupped the back of her head; her thumb slowly ran against it.
She'd tried everything. Her breath shuddered while her hands gripped Mother. Sansa couldn't lose her mother. "I know, sweet girl. I know."
Taking a breath, she kissed Mother's cheek and settled against her.
Lips pressed against her forehead. "You don't have to hide your feelings from family, sweetling."
She sat up and nodded. "I didn't think you'd want to see me a fright."
Mother's hand took her own and rested it above her stomach. "You deserve comfort, Sansa." Mother turned to someone behind Sansa. "Hoster, you know which one."
Sansa turned, and Father gave Mother a silent nod when he squeezed Sansa's shoulder. He left the chamber without a word.
When the door closed, she turned back. "Mother?"
"You will always have a place among the Tullys, Sansa. For you are a Tully," Mother told her, firm but tired. "It was to be for your nameday, but I want you to have it today."
From the edge of the bed, Sansa held Mother's hand in both of her own. "I.." she coughed. "I'll miss you, Mother. So much," she said, fingers sliding along Mother's. "You didn't have to get me a present now; my nameday is less than a moon away."
Mother smiled and brought her hand to her lips. "I'm glad I did, sweet girl. You are my daughter." Sansa swallowed and weaved together the fingers of her and Mother. "Sansa, bring me Oswell and Joseth."
Grandmother handed her Oswell first. With a gentle hold, Sansa made to give Oswell to Mother, who'd moved her shift down to her belly. When Mother was ready, Sansa lowered Oswell onto Mother's bare chest. The sleeping babe nuzzled Mother's skin for a second. Sansa did the same with Joseth but on the other side. Grandmother murmured a need to slip out for a moment, but that she'd be back.
Sansa smiled once the babes rested together upon Mother, who gazed at her sleeping sons with a hand on their backs and lightly thumbed them. The smile on Mother was tired but one of unconditional love. Slowly they stirred awake and blindly nuzzled, searching, soon suckling peacefully with a tiny hand resting near their mouths, splayed upon Mother's breasts.
She kept quiet for several minutes watching a mother with her tiny babes. The serenity and tenderness drew a silent tear from Sansa. When Mother's eyes met hers, she finally dared to whisper. "They look healthy." She leaned forward and stroked Joseth's smooth head of hair.
Mother smiled and gazed at her babes. "It was a near thing," Mother quietly said and lifted her gaze to her. "These babes, your brothers, have much to thank you for." Sansa's lips parted and Mother smiled at her. "No one knows. And your brothers wouldn't be here without you." Mother's eyes went to them. "I almost didn't have the strength."
Sansa looked into Mother's eyes. "I'll love them, Mother. I want you to know that."
"Thank you, Sansa. Healthy and loved sons. It means the world to me." Mother looked at the twins and held them in silence, eyes going to each. "Oswell. Joseth. Return them to the cradle, sweetling." Mother kissed each of them on the forehead, Sansa burped and placed them in the cradle while fabric behind her rustled. Mother's shift was back in place, she took Mother's hand and sat on the side of the bed.
She glanced up at the quiet creak of the door, and Grandmother closed it before sitting on the other side of the bed.
Father entered in silence bearing a small sealed bag. Going behind Sansa, he moved her hair to one side, and cool metal rested around her neck; a pendant sat on her chest. 'Sansa Tully' it said.
"Sansa," Mother said quietly. "Here or with the gods, you will always be my daughter, Sansa Tully." Taking a breath, Sansa held Mother's hand in her own. "You're growing into a beautiful, elegant lady that I am proud of. You have inner strength and can withstand anything. You will prevail in all you do, my Sansa. I have no doubts. You are my daughter – our daughter – and we love you."
"I love you too, Mother," Sansa whispered and looked over her shoulder. "And Father. Thank you." He nodded and sat on the stool. Focus on Mother; she brought their fingers to her lips. "I don't want to leave you, Mother. But I must, don't I?"
With a sad smile on her face, Mother reached up and cupped Sansa's cheek. "Yes, sweetling," Mother whispered, stroking her face. "I love you, my girl." Mother lifted the other hand towards Sansa. "Sansa. Let me hold you one last time." Sansa took a breath and a tear fell; this was the end.
Too choked up to say anything, Sansa kissed Mother on the cheek and embraced her, burying her face in Mother's neck, who stroked her hair softly. Taking a breath, she sat up and held Mother's hand close. "You're my mother. I wish we had more time." With a slow breath, Sansa rose and walked to the door. She had to see her one last time. Turning around, Sansa met Mother's eyes and bit down on her lip when fat tears fell. "Good-goodbye...Mother..."
A tear fell down Mother's cheek. "Goodbye, my Sansa. I love you."
Sansa closed her eyes for a moment and nodded to Mother. Muffling a sob, she walked through the door and closed it behind her. Minisa Tully – Mother – had taken Sansa into her heart and loved her, and Sansa loved her back. She would never see her again.
In her bedchamber, Sansa, gripping the necklace firmly in both hands, trembled within Grandmother's close, relentless but shaking hold as Sansa screamed her sobs into Grandmother's middle. Tears fell into Sansa's hair from Grandmother's softer cries.
Sansa's fingers brushed the pendant. Mother had loved her, and so had she.
SANSA STARK
Day 6, 12th Moon, 275 AC
Breaking of fast the following morning was a sombre affair in the Great Hall; barely a word between the grieving family all donned in black.
The silence was broken by the steward entering the hall. "My Lord Tully? A wheelhouse approaches Riverrun," he informed Father quietly.
"Thank you, Utherydes," Father said. It sounded as though he'd been expecting it. He turned to Sansa after he looked at all three sisters. "Sansa, you're the most composed. Could you greet our guests?"
Without saying a word, Sansa gave him a nod and rose. She left the Great Hall quietly.
The whole castle was silent. Every banner and flag changed over to plain black. Walking the halls with her pain concealed, Sansa made for the eastern drawbridge, but from atop, there were no wheelhouse or riders within sight; she'd anticipated the Starks.
She turned for the western drawbridge.