What Could Have Been

II

"Mother!" the two clear voices called her as soon as she was on the yard. "Mother, look!"

Robb and Eddard were the first glimpse of a different life Sansa had had after marrying Podrick. She had conceived in their first year together, two babies with hair as red and eyes as blue as their mother's, but with the Stark sharp features. Now they were seven, and dreamed of being young warriors, not knowing what that actually meant.

The two were pointing to the gates, and when Sansa turned, her eyes instantly lit up.

"Arya!" the Queen exclaimed, and the short brunette didn't wait for anyone to help her dismount before jumping out of her horse and walking to her sister, who engulfed her in a hug. The last time they'd seen one another, Sansa was about to birth Rickon, her third son, but Arya hadn't stayed long enough to meet the baby.

"Where were you this time?" the Queen asked, smiling openly.

"Myr," her sister answered. "I bought fabric and girl stuff, I know you like those."

"You didn't have to."

Arya ignored her words and turned to look over her shoulder.

"We also brought someone you should meet."

Sansa shifted her gaze to behind her sister, and couldn't help her surprise when her eyes fell on the bundle in Gendry's arms.

"You... No!" she exclaimed.

"I'm as surprised as you are that I put myself through it," Arya laughed. "I don't know how you managed to do it twice."

Sansa bit her lips.

"Thrice, actually."

Her sister gave her a surprised look.

"Already?"

"And maybe again in five months," Sansa whispered. "But it's a secret."

Arya laughed out loud.

"You are a rabbit."

Sansa ignored her and walked to the man holding the baby.

"It's a girl," Gendry informed the Queen. "Serena."

Serena couldn't be older than three months and had every bit of her mother she could possibly have, except for her large blue eyes, and Sansa couldn't help but wonder if they were Tully or Baratheon eyes for a moment.

"You said three times," her sister stopped by her side. "Are there any girls?"

"No girls," the redhead chuckled. "Four boys."

Arya only laughed more.

"Oh, the dream! No girl for you to dress up."

Sansa shook her head.

"Maybe this time," she said, hopeful, and turned to the maid that had followed her. "Please make sure there's a crib for Serena in the chambers we've prepared for my sister and Lord Gendry and show him the nursery."

The woman did a short curtsy and obeyed, allowing Sansa to be alone with her sister once and for all.

"Is Bran coming?"

"Yes," Sansa confirmed. "He must be arriving soon."

She looked down to her feet and then around the castle, trying not to sound affected.

"Jon will be here just as well."

Arya merely turned to her, in silence. She knew there was something sore between Jon and Sansa since he'd left. She hadn't managed to protect him from his sentence and chastised herself for that, and they were hiding something Arya couldn't quite catch. Any time she visited Jon at the wall and even mentioned Sansa, she could see the pain in his eyes, and the same hurt was in her sister's eyes whenever their cousin came into question. There was something there, but she didn't really think she wanted to know.

"It's your 10th year as Queen, after all," she reminded her redhead sister. "They wouldn't miss the celebration."

They fell back into silence, and Arya quickly changed the subject.

"Let me see my nephews."

As if they were waiting for her to call them, the twins ran to their sister almost at the same time, crashing onto her legs and hugging her. They had seen her just once but had cherished every letter and gift Arya had sent from her trips around the world, all of them keeping the memory of her alive.

"Can we show you our sword skills, Aunt Arya?" Robb asked, and the brunette only raised her eyes to her sister, joining the two pairs of pleading eyes.

"You are to ask for wooden swords, do you hear me?" she instructed.

"Yes mother," Ned confirmed.

Only then, Sansa nodded and smiled at the three when the two boys ran excitedly with her sister behind them, moving her focus to her husband while he walked in her direction.

"I just saw Lady Brienne on the road," he informed her. "She has come with the King."

"How many men?" she asked.

"Very few. One wheelhouse and maybe 40 men. Less than you'd expect from a King."

Sansa rested her hand on her stomach, a habit she'd picked up on her first pregnancy.

"Bran doesn't like to bring many people. He probably has Lord Tyrion with him, gods know the man can't be away from you for too long."

Her husband laughed, though not denying. It was true.

It took the group just minutes to get there, but no one in the castle gathered much to pay attention to their group. It was Bran, after all. He had said himself that there was no need.

Brienne was the first to leave her horse and drop to her knee when she approached the Queen.

"Your Grace," the Knight said respectfully before Sansa motioned her to stand up.

"Hello again, Brienne," she smiled. "I hope your journey here was peaceful."

"Very peaceful, your grace. Thank you."

"How is little Renly?" she asked.

After the war, Brienne had had a son, a boy no one doubted wasn't Jaime Lannister's, and had revealed herself as a good mother while still a warrior. He was now a bit older than nine now, and the apple of Lord Selwyn's eyes, being raised by his grandfather to be the heir of Evenstar.

"He's well," the knight declared.

The Queen turned her face to see her brother coming down of the Wheelhouse he'd come in, leaving the two people behind and taking him in a hug without any ceremony.

"Sansa," he said simply.

Sansa stepped away and lowered her eyes to see her first husband watching her silently.

"Lord Tyrion," she gave him a tight smile.

"Your Grace," he did a small bow. "Thank you for welcoming us to your home."

"You're welcome."

"Are we the last to arrive?" he questioned.

Sansa tried to keep her expression neutral while looking at him.

"No," she denied. "Jon is still coming."

Tyrion gave her a look she couldn't quite describe.

"I didn't know that," he noted.

"He's always invited to our celebrations," Podrick said behind her, laying a protective hand on his wife's back. "He's part of the family."

The short man nodded to himself.

"Of course he is."

Sansa ignored the looks the two men exchanged and smiled at her husband. He always defended her.

"I'll show you your chambers, my lord. Your grace. I'm sure my wife wants to be here to see her cousin arriving."

They left, leaving Sansa alone in the yard, waiting.

Jon would be there soon. He had said he would come. He wouldn't disappoint her.