Chapter One
Jaime:
He isn't far from Winterfell now, he knows that. The first snow he's seen is falling and although it's beautiful, it is, in his opinion, fucking freezing. He sets up camp for the night, lighting a fire and keeping watch for anyone who might want to get thier hands on a high lord for ransoming, or, just his horse.
He hopes his appearance at the Winterfell gates will inspire some degree of appreciation. He kept his word. He said he would travel north and offer his assistance in the war against the dead. Granted, the Northmen would be expecting the entire Lannister army, but considering Cersei hadn't let him take them and he'd had to leave King's Landing quickly, he himself would have to do.
Cersei. He should have known she wouldn't send the armies North. He'd been suspicious but after they saw the dead man Jon Snow had brought down South, he thought she was being genuine. But Tyrion had been right all along. And Brienne and Olenna. He was blind when it came to Cersei. The belief that they would always belong together, that they were two halves of the same person had made sure he would always do her bidding. But now he knew. Now the Young Lion would have to fend for himself.
Jon:
As soon as they arrived at the gates, he felt relief. He was home. He was where he knew he belonged. He had brought Daenerys and her companions - Missandei the translator and Jorah Mormont, and of course, her Hand Tyrion Lannister.
He'd received word weeks, months ago, that both Arya and Bran had safely made it back. And his first duty was to reunite with them. He led Daenerys to the main hall, where, sitting up at the table, was the Lady of Winterfell herself. She was busy poring over some scroll.
"Sansa," he said. She looked up.
"Jon," she replied curtly. "You made it home alive."
"Aye, I did." Sansa had never agreed with his decision to go to Dragonstone from the off. "Sansa, this is queen Daenerys Targaryen." Jon beckoned Daenerys to come and meet his sister. Once they had greeted one another, Jon spied something in the corner. And soon a person emerged. Small, slim, confident, sword and dagger round her waist.
"Arya," Jon said, unable to hide the smile creeping up on his face.
"You've not forgotten me then?"
"How could I?" Arya rushed over to him and threw herself into his arms. He wrapped his around her in return.
"I've missed you," she whispered into his neck.
"So have I. More than you can imagine." Arya disentangled herself from him. "So where is Bran?"
"In the Godswood," Arya replied. "Come, I'll take you."
"I'll see your guests to thier rooms," Sansa answered his obvious question. "Go, go and see him." Jon nodded and followed Arya out. "Oh, and Jon?" He turned back round to Sansa. "Bran's not alone." Jon frowned and walked from the main hall. He followed his sister through the corridors to the snow outside.
He found his brother sitting in a wheelchair, hand against the tree. And Sansa had been right, he wasn't alone. There was another man with him. Jon's eyes widened when he recognised him.
"Sam?" Jon exclaimed. The other man turned and a huge smile appeared on his face. Jon went over and engulfed his friend in a hug before turning to his brother, who was in the middle of warging. "It's been too long, my friend."
"Yes," Sam replied. "It has." Bran was soon out his trance.
"Jon, I knew you were coming." Jon frowned and turned to Sam for answers.
"Bran is what he calls the Three Eyed Raven. He can see things, visions, of the past, present and future."
"And I have something I must tell you," Bran replied.