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When Sansa was told she was going to work at a munitions factory everyone had been so sure she was going to hate it. After all everyone said that the girls who worked there turned canary yellow from the chemicals and Sansa had always been so proud of her looks. Plus Joffrey had been killed by a bomb only six months before and who would want to be reminded of how their fiancé died every single day. But it was 1941 and the government didn't give anyone much choice about where they did their war work.
The thing was that Sansa didn't hate it. Sure she would have preferred to have been assigned to the Land Army but at least this way she could stay at home with her parents (and with Arya flying planes across the country with the WAAF, Bran about to be shipped overseas, Rickon somewhere safe in Wales and Robb still missing in action she felt she was needed there). Plus it was an excuse to finally take off her engagement ring, to take off the visible reminder that she had once 'belonged' to Joffrey.
And once she started she could remember what it was like to have female friends. Of course she'd had friends growing up but only Jeyne had counted as a true friend and once she started dating Joffrey he'd scared them all away. But the women at the factory were so different to her friends before; most of them were working class and were determined to have as much fun out of this war as possible. They teased her a bit for her 'la-di-da' accent she had worked so hard for at school but she quickly realised that it was a joke, after all they were all in the same boat now.
And most weekends they went dancing. She'd known that these places existed before now but she'd never been and the dancing there was so different to how it was at the posh places Joffrey had insisted on going to - but it was so much more fun. And every Friday and Saturday they would put on their glad-rags and head down to the dance hall after work and dance with as many soldiers as possible. Sansa knew that some of her friends would let themselves be walked home and kissed but she would always decline politely and jump on the last tube home – she wasn't ready for that yet. She didn't mind that her friends did but she just wasn't ready for that step. It got harder as time went on though, her friends didn't understand why she just didn't kiss a few soldiers already and she couldn't explain her fears that they might be a second Joffrey to them (not when she didn't want them to know about Joffrey at all).
And then Willas Tyrell arrived. The Americans were just starting to ship into London and that meant that suddenly there were a lot more men in uniform at each dance. Sansa wasn't a fan of most of them, they assumed that just because she was a girl she'd kiss them without even asking, but Willas was different. He just asked her to dance. In fact most nights he'd be the only one she'd dance with and then at the end of the night he'd kiss her hand and tell he'd hope to see her next time. It was only when the tubes were cancelled early one night that he started walking her home, guiding each other through the dark streets of London and telling her stories about his family and childhood and asking her about hers. His upbringing in the Virginia countryside (not that she was even sure where Virginia was) was so different to her London one on the surface but behind all of that was the fact that both of them had been raised in loving supportive families and really that was the only commonality that they needed.
And then one night she found herself kissing him. Pressed up against a wall in the middle of the London blackout kissing him with all her might. He was nothing like Joffrey and although there might have been an urgency to his kiss it was an urgency that Sansa responded to in equal part.
“I'm sorry,” he said the moment he pulled away. “I didn't want to force myself on you.”
And Sansa didn't know what to say apart from to kiss him again.
After that she never danced with anyone else. She knew realistically that he'd be going to France soon but when they danced it never seemed to matter. And then afterwards they'd go to his digs and Sansa very quickly discovered that what with Joffrey had always seemed a painful duty could be a joy. She let him kiss her everywhere and she kissed him back, she felt her body shudder with joy every time he pushed himself deep inside her and she heard him whisper her name over and over as they wrapped themselves around each other.
She never told her parents about him but she knew she looked happier than she had in years. And her friends laughed and teased her about her handsome american boyfriend and she couldn't care less.
He proposed to her the night before he was due to ship out, presented her with a simple gold band he'd found somehow and begged her to marry him. And Sansa promised to write to him every single day. She'd only known him for three months but it felt like a lifetime, and it felt like they still had a lifetime of happiness ahead of them.
She couldn't wear the ring at work but as soon as she left the factory floor she would slip the chain it hung on around her neck and be soothed by the feel of the cool metal against her skin. She knew she should tell her parents, explain why almost every day she would receive a letter from France but it was such a precious secret she couldn't bring herself to share it.
She just went on as before, just now instead of going dancing or out in the evenings she would normally sit at home and write Willas a letter or reread one of the ones he sent her full of blacked out lines by the censors. Of course she still went out sometimes but she didn't dance with anyone else, she'd made a promise to herself that she would only ever dance with Willas now. But she still had fun, the girls she worked with were her friends after all and her life hadn't ended because the man she loved wasn't there with her any more.
And then Sansa missed her monthly bleeding, twice. She knew what that meant, she knew what had happened because she'd been too happy to be careful. She knew how to get rid of a baby, she'd done it before, but she didn't want to get rid of Willas' child. She knew how she'd be treated, she knew what would happen to her but somehow that didn't matter because it would be Willas' baby and she could never kill that child. She didn't tell him though, that wasn't something you could write in a letter, she didn't know how to write it in a letter.
She told her mother first, let herself be comforted and chastised all at once. And then they told her father together. Sansa wasn't scared of them knowing, she knew her parents well enough to know they'd always love her however many stupid mistakes she made but she hated the fact that she'd disappointed them. She told them about Willas and told them how much she loved him and what else could she do. And she hoped that they understood.
The plan was to tell no one, to keep it a secret so she could keep her job for as long as possible. But Sansa had always been slim and the baby was determined to be seen as soon and she was only four months pregnant when she got called over by the shift manager and told not to come back until the baby was born – it wasn't even worth protesting.
Her friends came to visit sometimes, bringing stories from the factory floor or their nights out, but Sansa could see the pity in their eyes. She knew they all thought she was a stupid girl for letting herself get in the family way without a wedding ring – an engagement ring just wasn't good enough if you weren't going to be clever.
But baby Lyarra was born without a hitch, a little early in the middle of the summer heatwave of 1943. Part of Sansa wanted to give her baby a name that belonged to Willas' family but the only names she knew were the ones of his siblings so instead she named her little dark haired babe after her strong willed grandmother and hoped some of that strength would passed down, because she would need it. Most of the neighbours seemed to swallow the lie that she'd got married in secret before her man got shipped out, or at least they pretended to swallow the lie and that was good enough. Bran and Arya knew the truth but they lied to Rickon, he'd never been any good at keeping secrets and he was so far away anyway.
And then Willas' letters stopped. No reason given, they just stopped one day. Sansa tried to tell herself that it was nothing, that they'd stopped all the letters for some security reason or that he was just moving, but there'd never been a gap of more than a month before. She continued to send her letters though, full of more lies than facts now because how could she tell him about his daughter now.
She went back to the factory when she could bear to leave Lya and tried to be one of the girls again, tried to have a laugh as they made bombs to kill the Nazis. It was hard though when all she wanted was to be at home with her baby and her milk was so desperate to escape. She did though because she had to, because it was her job, because her country needed her.
It was winter when she got the letter from the USA, a letter from Willas' sister. A letter that told her that Willas was being transferred to a hospital near London and telling Sansa that they'd made a call so she'd be able to visit him. Sansa couldn't remember fainting but considering her mother found her in a heap on the floor she guessed she must have.
It turned out that near London actually meant near Cambridge so it wasn't until a Sunday that she was able to go. Arya agreed to accompany her, if only because she said she was curious about who the guy was that had made her sister abandon her morals (and because she was bored after a week's leave).
She wasn't sure what she was expecting when she entered the ward but the moment she saw his face she abandoned Arya and ran down the corridor towards him. She didn't even realise she was crying until she pulled away from the hug to see the damp patch on his shoulder. It was only then that she saw the missing leg.
“What happened?” she whispered
“Bomb blast,” she can see him trying to smile but it's not the same easy one she used to see, “I was one of the lucky ones. But no more dancing I’m afraid.”
Sansa felt her face set slightly as she sat up, “we'll sort it. You'll be okay.” but she wasn't sure she even believed herself, how could anyone live with just one leg, when they were no longer whole. But she hoped Willas believed her because she was sure he needed the lie more than she did.
On the train journey home Arya laughed and tried to tell her gruesome stories of some of the men she'd seen injured in plane crashes but Sansa just stared ahead and tried not to think about the horrible gap where Willas' leg had once been. And as soon as she got home she gathered up her little Lya in her arms and tried not to cry.
She went back though. Every Sunday she sat on that train to Cambridge, sat by his side or pushed him around the grounds and told him about everything she'd done that week apart from Lya. The secret had been kept so long that she had no idea how to tell it, how would he feel to know that she had kept this from him for over a year. Part of her wished that she could be there everyday, holding his hand though all the bad times but at the same time she was glad to have the excuse. Because it wasn't easy, she knew that she still loved him and that she should be able to support him through this but she didn't know how – it was so hard to look at him and just see that missing leg, how was she meant to see past that.
And the knowledge that soon he'd be well enough to be sent back to the states weighed on her constantly, that soon there'd be another push and they'd need his bed and so they'd decide he would be strong enough for a long sea voyage. And Sansa knew that had to be soon, Willas was so much stronger than everyone else in the ward.
And so one day as spring was starting to arrive she wrapped Lya up warmly and got on a train, leaving only a note behind for her mother. She wasn't even sure if she was allowed to bring children into the ward but she had felt a rush of strength that morning and she knew that now had to be the time or she'd never do it.
Willas was asleep when she arrived, she'd left so early that she knew he wouldn't be expecting her for at least an hour and Sansa looked at her curly haired little girl and whispered to her that this was her daddy. Lya was only eight months but Sansa knew she understood, knew that she somehow got who this man was to her.
And when Willas' eyes fluttered open and looked at her in confusion, half from sleep and half from the small girl crawling on his bed, Sansa just looked at him and cried. “I didn't know how to tell you.” She hadn't meant to cry.
But Willas just smiled, a more genuine smile than she'd seen in weeks, “what's her name?”
“Lyarra but we just call her Lya.”
And as he hugged his daughter tight Sansa felt like crying all over again.
In the end they ended up getting married in the small village church two days before Willas was due to get on a boat. Somehow it seemed important to do it before he went back, not to wait any longer. Sansa borrowed a dress and Willas stood with a crutch under both arms and it was perfect. Perhaps it wasn't what she had dreamed of but she had her one legged american husband and their beautiful baby girl and one day when the war was over they'd all be reunited again. And Sansa knew in her heart that the end had to be soon, it just had to be.