Once chosen, once the choice had been decided in the annals of the history to come, it was as though a light had been lit to a candle in her heart she did not know existed. No, her heart was not the right automatical location. A more apt comparison may be…well, further down.
It wasn't as though it was just her, though. By the gods, it's like she and Podrick were being gripped by equal insanity, a disease that swept through both of their minds, making them incapable of thinking of anything else that the conversation and what was to follow.
Perhaps it was just joy. Sansa had never felt more sure of herself than her most recent decisions, not even all the steps she'd taken as Queen. It was as though this choice, as soon as it breathed life, seemed to shudder in relief, as if wondering why it took so long to come to such a conclusion.
Or maybe it was anticipation for what was to come.
She had heard so many stories of women dreading nights with their husbands, knowing a child was of utmost concern and urgency and suffering through for the gift they'd get from a night. In some ways, Sansa expected this. That even if she enjoyed her time with Pod, this action was purposeful. It was with intent. It was a job, in some ways.
But no.
If her old nannies knew what she was thinking, they'd wash her mind out with soap and lye and chastise her for having such darkened, needing thoughts.
She at least knew she was not alone.
It wasn't just the looks at dinner, but by the Gods, those looks burned her to the core. He'd taken to sitting next to her, as though they were daring for someone to make a comment, to notice their closeness and wonder.
No one did. And if they were, they probably assumed it was not their business to worry about who the Queen chose to sit with at meal times. It wasn't as though she and Podrick did not have a previous friendly relationship. Many knew that despite the fact he was a knight for her brother they were more than cordial with each other.
There would be moments when she'd catch the way he was looking at her and she knew he wasn't having deep thoughts about mutton pie. The look would always stop her dead; she often had to remind her limbs to function as normal, to finish with the cut of her pie and bring the fork to her mouth, because left to herself, she'd probably be stopped in her tracks, staring back at him.
He knew what he was doing. For all those times he presented himself as though he stumbled through that brothel without a wit to his name, she didn't think it was true. There was no way that Podrick was just accidentally undressing her with his eyes and teasing her so. She knew this because of the far too-pleased smirk she'd catch when she finally tore her gaze away and caught his pursed smile out of the corner of her vision.
She also knew because he'd started with little teasing pulls across her skin; the back of his knuckles lightly knocking against her skirts, growing more bolder each day. The first time it had just been a touch above her knee and she'd thought it was a mistake. Hands brushed places often when you sat in close quarters to each other. It was little worry or concern.
Then, the next morning, it had stayed pressed against her leg, as though waiting for Sansa to jerk away. She could not allow herself to lean into the touch as she hoped, but she didn't send him a sharp look to move it.
Since then, it had been a dance of wills. How far would he go? How close could he get? How much skirt could he push to the side to place the warm hand of his palm against her legs?
And Sansa had to act as though nothing untoward was happening, not squirm, and not make any movement as he toed the line of propriety. If she made a noise, he won. If she managed to keep her composure the whole meal, she won.
Sansa liked winning.
This is why today, when he grasped her thigh, a thumb rubbing circles through her skirt, it took every ounce of willpower for Sansa to not dissolve into his touch and make a noise. Not even when his hands slid toward the inside of her thighs did Sansa buckle, though she would admit that conversation with her men was difficult to focus on.
She could call this time a draw.
Most meals she managed to calm herself down, and fan away the blush creeping up her neck, but today it was different. No sooner had she excused herself from the meal and wound her feet up the tower right outside the dining doors that Podrick had followed her.
"You're playing with fire," Sansa warned, though it was more amusement than actual scolding.
"Aye, I am," Podrick agreed, flicking her ginger hair hanging over her shoulder, "But she seems to like to play back."
"You are terrible," Sansa whispered as she pulled him by his collar, grasping to press herself against him for a stolen, roguish and filthy kiss.
"I'm impatient," Podrick said, a correction, "For your moon blood to have finished," He said.
"You will be the first person to know." She often begrudged her monthly blood but never had she despised it as much as this turn.
Podrick bit the bottom of her lip as he pressed her tightly against the stone wall, his hands grasping all over and finally settling one on her waist and one curing up her leg until he reached her arse.
A thrill ran through Sansa as he hoisted one leg up, ruching her skirt up her thigh to be able to slide his large palm underneath her skirt and clutch the curve of Sansa's body as leverage.
"Pod-," Sansa choked, liking this slightly more forward boy than she had been expecting him to be, the sort of boy that kissed her until she saw stars in the hallway and the sort of boy that grabbed her and swung her around like she hardly anything and whose fingers felt so good pressing into her pale skin.
Though her brain screamed in protest, Sansa pulled herself away. Pod, too, realized that this was always stolen time like this, for now, and they were toeing the line of getting caught with each passing day.
"My Queen," Podrick whispered with a quirked smile, bowing deeply to her before placing one last chaste kiss on her lips, his thumb rubbing the bottom lip before he vanished, leaving only the spicy smell of Podrick hanging in the hallway.
LII
Anxious and riled with anticipation, the first night that Sansa's moon blood began to grow a lighter, faint shade against her cotton linings, she could not contain her excitement. Though she knew she was likely a day out of starting anything serious, she felt compelled to tell Podrick right away. She sent a letter through Brid, who was taking his turn to protect her door that night. As she did so, she let out a small chuckle; no doubt Bran's meddling, but for once, the fact that it was someone fiercely loyal to Podrick and would not tell a soul what happened was a blessing. Not that her guard would either, but for the first time she really considered the complicated nature of how this would work.
She was musing on this conundrum, wondering if she could find some excuse for them to go away together for a few days, but realized the avalanche of problems this would cause when Podrick came knocking on her door.
"You didn't have to come." She opened her door and saw he was carrying a kraft of wine. But secretly, she'd hoped he would.
"A celebration, Sansa," Podrick said, "And if all goes well, the last taste of this for a long time," He said with a full smile.
Sansa laughed at his thoughtfulness and allowed him to pour her a cup. They sat by the roaring fire and when Sansa went in for a kiss, Podrick pulled back.
"I want to let the anticipation mount," He said at her pouted lip.
"Really?" She sighed.
"It will be better," He assured her, sipping his wine.
"I know it will be good either way," Sansa said, grumpy that she would deny him a kiss. Podrick laughed out loud at her expression.
"You are not used to people saying no, are you?" He asked. Sansa thought this was a rather obvious answer.
"I'm a Queen." She said, raising an eyebrow.
"No, no, before that," Podrick waved his hands, "I imagine you were a terror as a child and on. The eldest daughter, probably adored by your father. I would think that you got your way, always."
Sansa almost argued that, no, it was clearly Arya that was favored, until she remembered how often her father would just bend the rules a little bit to make things go her way. And she blushed as red as her wine.
"Well," She said, downing her first glass to relieve herself of the heat curling up her neck and to the tips of her ears, "I was very persuasive."
"Thank the Gods," Podrick said, pouring her another glass, "Because I fumbled and accidentally got here, you know? Our future child could use some good negotiation skills."
Sansa tilted her head, "You know, there's much we don't know about one another. If we are to seriously do this, would it not be… beneficial for us to know as much as we can? So that whatever comes of this…boy or girl…I will not be so…lost and afloat?" She struggled to explain, "It won't be so easy as you assuring me at night that this is how you were as a babe, you know."
Podrick swallowed, looking away, "I've thought of that. That I won't be here with you to raise him or her. And it does…" He seemed ready to admit something that perhaps neither was ready to hear, "You're right. You deserve at least that." He leaned back, "What questions do you have?"
She had all of them. And Podrick answered every single one.
By the time she was down to her fourth cup, she was a bit deliriously giggly. Podrick seemed to be enjoying her like this, and she would only ever get drunk with him, someone she knew would protect her.
"You know, it's a miracle at all that we're even here." She said.
"Yeah, I didn't think I would survive the Battle," Podrick said, a bit far away at the mention of the most recent war, "I was sure I was done for."
"No, the fact that I'm here with you, Podrick Payne , and waiting to try to…produce an heir with you," Sansa said, frustrated she wasn't able to articulate exactly her thoughts.
Podrick blinked, "I don't follow."
"Your cousin, Ilyn, beheaded my father. It was on Joffrey's orders, I realize, but he still swung it. And I had to watch." Sansa whispered, "And I hated him. I still hate him."
Podrick looked down, fingers tensing on his glass, "Yes. I'm sorry. I had…forgotten," He said, "We're very distant if that helps matters."
"It doesn't, but it's fine," Sansa said, "You know when Tyrion introduced you to being from that family, I wanted to kill you. I figured that would be justice enough. Not quite…a father for a cousin, but it would be something," She admitted, "Until I reminded myself you had not done anything to deserve that. But I still despised your last name and all it stood for."
Podrick was silent as he let her talk, but she couldn't read his expression. She had the fear she was saying too much, the wine making her tongue lose, but once she began, she couldn't stop.
"If I could have told my younger self that I would be here, with a Payne, willingly allowing him to further the Stark line…" She gave a dry, almost angry laugh, "I don't think I would have ever believed it. I would have been angry. The sort of fury that breaks plates and swears and yells."
"But.." Podrick whispered, begging.
"Yes, there has to be a but in there, doesn't it?" Sansa said, rolling the wine around in the glass, watching the colors refract through it, "There is. It's simple, really. I got to know you. The true you. And you are not your cousin no more than he is you. And it seems silly for me to say this, as being a Stark is so vital to me but…it's just a name." She said with a shake of her head, "You are Podrick Payne, but it seems…so detached from him. And I guess it's only in moments like this I think about it. And the thought shocks me because how can you be in any way related to him?"
"There is good and evil in every family," Podrick said after a long moment, "And I pray I am on the side of good."
"Oh, Pod," Sansa tutted, "What a question. Of course, you are."
"We think that now. I just hope it's true once everything is said and done. Because," He swallowed, pressing his lips to almost keep from laughing, "Trying to put a baby in a queen is not mine is certainly not the business of a good man."
"If they knew our story, they'd agree it was," Sansa assured, "And even if they don't, a babe is a…pure thing. Whatever happens from this will only be good."
Podrick reached out to grasp her hand, stroking his large fingers over her tiny knuckles, "I know it, Sansa. By the gods, I know that our son or daughter will be absolutely perfect. The best of me and the best of you."
Sansa settled, allowing him to continue to hold her hand, "I like that idea very much."
LIII
On the day of the first try, Sansa had the thought that perhaps her Small Council would appreciate a forewarning for what was to come. They were still giving quiet sympathies about her arrival of the moon blood and it seemed they entirely had moved on, no idea what Sansa was planning.
She'd been between wanting just to have them find out when it did, to tell them now. She did have to remind herself that she was a queen. This was her final word, she wasn't looking for someone to sway her out of it. She was telling them as a courtesy.
Sansa had decided that the most dangerous course of action was to have Podrick visit her room nightly. That would leave it up to the biggest chance that someone would realize what had happened and make the connection to her future child's father. The walls always had eyes, but never more so than after the sun dropped below the horizon.
She had many private meetings in her solar, she reasoned. Meetings that went on far longer than she and Podrick would need. Especially if she had one of her other council members come in with him and leave through the side door, no one would be the wiser.
It wasn't as comfortable as her bed, but she did have a lounge couch which she would simply pad with furs and pillows and that would do.
The things she did for this kingdom, she thought with a wry grin.
The Small Council met her as they always did.
It was early in the morning. She caught Meera trying not to yawn into her hand, disguising it as a cough. Jeyne was blinking hard against the bright light streaming into the room and Gawan was beside her, equally as bleary-eyed. Randin was munching on a biscuit, his eyes far away from this room. Where... Sansa could not possibly guess.
She knew that what she was going to say would wake them all up right away.
"Before we formally begin, I would like to…" She paused, considering her wording. Prepare, like a war was coming? "Inform you that Winterfell will soon not be without an heir."
As expected, everyone immediately sat up straighter, any hints of tiredness whisked away at once.
"I'm confused, My Queen. I thought your moonblood had come?" Meera said. Sansa blinked at her.
"Indeed it has."
"Then, excuse my confusion…" Meera frowned deeply at her, "And my worry for your mental faculties."
"I am well aware I am not with child. That does not mean that it won't be so soon." Sansa said, "So do whatever preparations you must." She said, and started to take out the charts of spending, "I see that our exports are-,"
"Wait, wait," Randin said, "Queen Sansa. Explain."
Sansa raised a leveled, cool expression at Randin. He wilted under her look.
"I ask with the utmost respect, of course," He added quickly.
"Please?" Jenye added, "Did the gods gift you this in a dream? Are you picking a husband? Are you adopting?"
"No, no, and no," Sansa said. In her mind…she'd figured she'd warn them of the impending heir and move on. Now she realized she'd made an error. On their faces, it was obvious they were not going to move on to the rest of the day's tasks without more information. She exhaled, "May I remind you that whatever is said in this room is of utmost confidence?" She waited for everyone to nod, "I will be having Podrick's child. It was of sound logic previously, and since I am in need of an heir…he is willing to give up any paternal rights to the child and let it be raised under my name. So, the kingdom gets what it wants."
She had expected some minor pushback from this, but what she had not expected was the absolute bedlam this sent her small council into at these words. Meera literally spat out her drink.
"You jape! You must!" She stared wide-eyed at Sansa.
"I do not jape. At least, not of this," Sansa said, mildly annoyed.
"You can't…that isn't…this is…" Gawen struggled for words.
"You all seemed quite relieved at the mere thought of me carrying his child before. Little has changed." Sansa pointed out.
"That was when it was by chance! Something to work around! To willingly enlist not only a Kingsguard but a kingsguard of another nation…you are sentencing him to death!"
"I'm nearly sure Bran knows. And though he cannot show it, he does love me. I doubt he would take Podrick's head for this. Besides, is it not a good cover? Because it is such a ludicrous idea, no one would ever imagine the parentage to be his! It's so wild that it's ingenious."
"That is not how that works, my Queen," Randin sputtered.
"It will work like that. I thought I was doing you a favor by letting you know. It will be happening whether you wish it or not. I thought you would be thrilled."
Everyone was quiet for a few seconds, before Meera grunted, "Well, you hope it takes hold. We do not have the luxury of access to Podrick forever. He leaves within a quarter moon."
"He does." Sansa agreed, but she knew that it would work. She could not quite explain it, but she just…did.
"We let her try," Meera offered, ever diplomatic, "It is a short window anyway, and child-bearing is not as easily done as this," She snapped her fingers, "But can we make an agreement, Sansa?"
Sansa frowned, but nodded, curious.
"If it does not take hold…we do need an heir. So will you agree to either find another suitor or formally adopt a child and name him your successor?" Meera asked. Randin muttered in quiet agreement.
Sansa's first reaction was to deny this request. The idea of having any child that was not Podrick's seemed oddly wrong to her, but she couldn't explain why. But, as she let herself work through a possibility she had blindly ignored, she realized that she couldn't be ready in this way for a child but not ready in any other.
"I agree," Sansa said, "Now can we please move on?"
No more was said on the topic, though Sansa knew from the distractedness of the council that this was all anyone was thinking about currently.
Great.
LIV
( From the Desk of the Queen; Attempts to write a Letter to Arya)
Dear Arya.
I'm writing to let you know that you may have a nephew or niece soon to dote upon.
Dear Arya.
How is it out exploring? There may be something to coax you home soon.
Dear Arya.
Remember when I used to talk about having babes with a brave knight? Well, as it turns out.
Arya.
You were right.
Arya,
you know Podrick, right? The one they say has a magic cock?
Arya…
if you were to have a child, what would you name it?
I miss you.
I want you home.
Arya…
I might be making a huge mistake, but I pray not.
Arya,
I need your guidance as my family.
Arya,
The weirdest things are happening when I think about Podrick.
Arya,
I think I-
(None were sent; most were thrown into the fire and burned to ash.)
LV
"Writing some correspondence, Sansa?"
Sansa spun around to see Pdorick standing in her doorway. She whipped around to look at the window and saw the sun peeking through the very top of the stained glass, and cussed. She'd lost track of time attempting to pen some sort of correspondence to Arya.
The problem was she didn't know what she wanted to say. Was she writing to inform Arya that she may have one more family member soon? Was she writing to let Arya gloat about perhaps being right? Was she reaching out for a missed connection? Or was it trying to explore some deeper feelings that her sister was always so blunt but so correct in speaking out loud?
"Not going well, I see?" Podrick asked, using a fire poker to nudge the blackened papers in her fireplace as he spied her ink-stained fingers.
"Not well," Sansa agreed with a wry smile, "It's…not important, however. If I couldn't find the words, then perhaps I'm forcing something that's unnecessary."
"I could help, if you wanted."
Sansa blushed, and winced, "Er, no. That's kind, but uhm, it's to Arya."
Podrick nodded, gulping, "Right, sisterly matters. I would have little to offer there."
They stood in the solar, a desk's width apart, just staring at each other for a second. Then, slowly, she watched Podrick as he began to unlace his wrist cuffs and set them carefully on a cushioned chair near her desk.
"I suppose we should…well, you know," He muttered when Sansa still did not move. Her words jolted her into movement.
"Yes, we should." She nodded jerkily, "We don't have much time before Bran leaves and you go with him."
Podrick groaned, "Don't remind me."
"You must," Sansa urged, "And you know it. And you know why," She said, going to sit on the bench she'd very nicely cushioned with furs and pillows. She patted for him to sit, "As much as we both may dislike it."
Podrick took off the rest of his heavy armor, leaving him just in his day clothes, as he sat slowly on the bench.
They both looked at each other, looked away at the same time, and laughed at their reaction. Sansa felt like a young child with a silly crush again, not a Queen planning her heir with a man she trusted and knew would give her a kind, fair son.
She reached forward, grasping his jaw and pulling him across the tiny space between them to kiss him, tongue pressing at his closed lips, fingers grasping against the scratchy-shaven jawline.
Podrick leaned in back, his fingers knotting in her fiery red hair and his other hand pushing her down onto the bench. It was a wide bench; Sansa had many naps here on days when she was exhausted beyond belief, so it wasn't too wild of an idea to try to convince here.
She let Podrick push against her breastplate until she was laying on the pillows. She stared up, adoring how his blush spotted across his pale cheeks and over his nose, and down his neck. She wanted to follow that trail all over his body, touch everywhere that he could be touched by someone else.
"My Queen," Podrick whispered reverently bringing her fingers to his mouth and kissing them gently, "Your wish is my will."
"I need you to have me, then Podrick," Sansa commanded knowing she could have anyway without his reminder, "I pray some other day, or maybe some other life, there will be time for sweetness and slowness. But that is not the case now. It is not a reflection of how I feel like you. Just worry that we won't have enough time," She added, to make sure he didn't not jump to the conclusion that she was unhappy with his actions. Far from it. Some part of her wanted to be doted on and adored by someone forever, the way Podrick treated her.
But she was a Queen and those sports of desires were not up to her to choose.
And have her he did. Twice, in fact, in the hour they had in her solar alone. The first time before all their clothes were shed, things pushed aside just enough to give Podrick access, his fingers digging into her thighs through her heavy quilted jacket. The second; softer, and slower. Careful, almost, with Sansa's arms twined around his neck, her forehead pressing to his shoulderblade, wishing for things she knew she could not have, trying to keep from making sounds that would attract others to check on her, despite how much the expression wanted to burst forth from her throat.
"We may have to find…more than one time during the day. To be sure," Podrick said, almost too casually, as he found his clothes scattered on the ground, "The gods are fickle and we must give them every opportunity to bless you with a child."
"Yes," Sansa agreed, somewhat hazily, fingers pressed against her stomach firmly, somehow equally praying that there was already a seed taking hold, but also not, so that she may indulge herself in the illusion and perhaps the unspoken reason she chose Podrick, besides all the qualities he brought to the table.
As he paused at the door, it almost seemed like he was going to turn around to kiss her, but instead, he pressed his lips to her hand.
"Until dinner," He whispered, "In which I will be thinking of nothing but you until then."
Sansa opened her mouth, all her wit vanished, and ended up saying nothing at all, except a sharp nod. Podrick, if he was disappointed, never showed it. In fact, he seemed gleeful to make her speechless.
"You should go lie back down," He added, putting his helmet back on, "So the river runs in the right direction." He added, face turning red.
"Yes, of course," Sansa said, which should have been logical, but stupidly she couldn't miss a chance to say goodbye to him at the door, "Return to your duties."
Podrick seemed amused, "Yes, Queen Sansa."