An Inconvenient Flame [Sandor Clegane]

Epilogue

What could have been.

         I had picked up a small branch to stir in the glows underneath the pot, whose content had been simmering for quite a while now, slowly getting ready for when they would return. It wouldn't be long now with the sun already disappearing in the distance.

The stew smelled heavenly. It wasn't one of my specialties, but it would make do. It always did, what we had right now was enough. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear before wiping both my hands in the skirt of my dress.

I remained crouched in front of the fire for quite a while, both enjoying the heat and tending to the stew slowly simmering above it. Not long after I heard laugher and a small figure came running towards me, carrying only a few pieces of wood in his arms.

"Mother!" He called proudly and showed me the few pieces of wood in his hands. A wide smile emerged on my lips as he ran directly into my embrace. The embrace we shared was tight and allowed me to see the taller figure approaching in the distance, carrying a much larger handful of wood.

Once again, I smiled, though noticing the small limp he carried. An old remnant of some of the wounds he carried, and occasionally bothered him visibly. Sandor hadn't changed much since then, except perhaps gaining a few years. The smile he sent me was careful and only meant for me before he tossed the handful of wood aside near the fire.

I picked our son up and rose to my feet ready to greet him. Sandor placed a kiss on my forehead before resting hand on our son's head - ruffling up the brown hair - who had also thrown his arms around my neck. He was clearly tired and perhaps for once, he would be able to sleep through the night completely.

I held our son tightly, and shifted him to my hip, releasing some of the pressure on my growing stomach. I was carrying our second child. Sandor had been out gathering wood for the fire because the nights had been colder lately. "Sandor." I called after him, seeing as he had sidestepped me to enter the house behind me.

Sandor halted in the doorway, one hand resting on the doorframe. "Hm-?" He complied and looked at me. I raised an eyebrow and carried a slight frown which made him understand my intentions. A small sigh left the man before he turned back to me.

Not even an armlength away from me, he had already wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him. Lips found mine as he kissed me longingly. It was exactly what I had wanted from his stupid man. Sandor chuckled against my lips before stealing one more kiss from me and retracted completely.

"That's disgusting, mother." Our son grimaced and my brows furrowed together before I began kissing him everywhere I could. "Stop it mother!" Our son laughed as he struggled against me. Trying his best to push away from me.

I sat him back down and allowed him to run after his father. "He grows fast-." The voice was painfully familiar, and I turned back around to see a familiar face. My eyes widened in disbelief. "Lady Lyra, a pleasure." No one else but Elric stood on the other side of the fire and bowed his head in respect before he stepped closer.

"How can this be?" I asked, still showing disbelief painted across my face. The knight was the same as I remembered. He had not changed or aged like I clearly had. Our son was almost eight now which meant it had been 8 years since the war, since Elric died in my arms.

"It can be because it's not real." Elric smiled and his figure grayed as a small stream of blood began escaping from a wound in his abdomen. Then everything began dissolving around me.

I jerked upright with a loud scream before I hunched together. I'd had everything I'd wanted for such a short moment. Tears swelled in my eyes, and I curled up into a ball before being reminded of the painful truth. I lowered my knees to rest against the bed again, reliving the pressure from my stomach.

With a few heavy breaths I calmed myself enough to cast the covers aside and reveal the last remnant of Sandor I had left.

I was pregnant.

Without putting more pressure on my rounded stomach, I placed both my hands on it and raised my knees back up, curing into a ball once again. I hunched forwards, falling onto the bed, letting my forehead rest against it as I just cried.

It had already been six months since the last war where I lost Sandor. The now growing life inside me was everything I had left of him and what we had shared together. The new life he had wanted for me, would never be a possibility. I would never have anyone raise this baby as theirs, I wanted only Sandor.

Sansa had ascended to Queen, ruling over the entire north, Bran had been chosen as King of the six other kingdoms, and Arya was traveling the world. Nothing was the same anymore as we had all been spread across the land.

I remained in Winterfell, it was the best option for me and place to raise my child. Who would ever accept us if they ever learned the truth of this child's father. I knew some had their suspicions, but it would never be possible to give them more life seeing as Sandor was dead.

This was the next chapter of my story, but a story I would have to tell on my own.