And what could Sansa Stark hope for? Sons, she supposed. Except she could not say whether sons would benefit her better here or home. Or whether she wanted sons at all -- nor daughters, neither. Not when she couldn't come to proper terms with the very notion of marriage. So while Ser Gendry talked around the topic of being someone's predecessor, Sansa merely wondered whether she could pass all she had to some other blood relative. They deserve it more.

Sullen again, she turned once more to sit properly in her chair. They did not need to look at one another to speak. He did not need to see the brief rattled expression on her face.

"You would need a sword. I don't think you can knight anyone with an axe."

Likely as not, it didn't matter. But in some ways Sansa could be such a traditionalist.