Chapter Two

Sansa watched Tyrion disappear down the covered bridge. She felt a surprising sense of relief. She had been contemplating the prudence of a proposed alliance ever since the war had been won and Jon and Daenerys had been wed. For the first time since she had left Winterfell for King's Landing all those years ago, she finally felt safe. The future no longer looked bleak or unbearable. She had hope, and that was more than she had ever anticipated having again.

Now that the Great War was over, Winterfell was not the same place it had once been. Bran had chosen to go north again, to live out the rest of his days as the Three-Eyed Raven. At first, both Sansa and Arya had been reluctant to allow him to go, but the longer he had stayed at Winterfell, the more it had become apparent that he was no longer their beloved brother, but something else entirely. His place was beyond the Wall. Despite their personal misgivings, there was no denying that. And so, he had left Winterfell, never to return.

Soon, Jon would leave as well, and Sansa and Arya would be all that was left of the Starks of Winterfell. Life was changing, and Sansa had found her own way to change with it.

"Are you sure that was wise?"

Sansa swung around to see Arya stepping out from the shadows. Her heart skipped a beat at being caught unawares. "Must you always do that?"

"Must you always change the subject?"

Sansa turned back toward the wall, trying to ignore her sister's penetrating stare. She had made her decision on her own. She was in no mood to defend it to anyone. "I have made a wise tactical alliance. I am the Lady of Winterfell. It is my duty to marry where it best suits the North."

A small laugh escaped Arya's throat as she moved up beside her sister, looking out over the yard below. "You should realize by now that you can't fool me. I know what you're thinking. I know why you're doing this. My only question is, are you really sure that you can live with it?"

Sansa nodded. "I'm sure."

"I don't mean now. I don't even mean on your wedding night."

Sansa's whole body unconsciously stiffened at the thought. She knew that things would be different this time, that Tyrion would not stand idly by and wait for her to be ready for him. This time, they would have to consummate their marriage regardless of her personal feelings. It was a sacrifice Sansa had already prepared herself to make, and yet, the idea still terrified her.

Arya continued, "What I mean is, five years from now, ten years from now, when the memories of the past have faded and life has become comfortable again. Will you be happy married to a halfman when spring returns and the northern knights come riding into Winterfell in their shining armor? Will you be sorry then that you hadn't waited? That you'd traded your life to a man whose touch you abhor?"

"I would abhor the touch of any man. I have no desire for fancy knights or promises of love. I have been through too much to ever care for such things again." The words were hollow in her throat. They made her feel cold just to say them, but they were true.

"Your new husband will expect you to share his bed. He waited once. I doubt he will wait again."

"I will not ask him to wait. It is a luxury the Seven Kingdoms cannot afford."

"But what about you? What about what you want?"

What Sansa really wanted was for everything to be the way it had been before, before she had left for King's Landing, before her entire world had fallen apart. She wanted her mother and father to be alive. She wanted Robb and Rickon to be alive. She wanted to be the happy, carefree girl who had grown up believing in fairy tales and chivalry and true love. But none of that was ever going to be. She knew she would never be happy again, and so, she had chosen to take her solace in duty and honor and to ignore the longings of her own broken heart.

"This is what I want," Sansa replied. "I will do my duty. I will give myself to my husband on our wedding night and secure the alliance between us, once and for all. If I had only done so all those years ago—" Sansa couldn't finish the thought. How many times had she lain awake at night after Ramsay Bolton had left her, thinking that exact same thing? If only she had lain with Tyrion, if only she had accepted his kindness and gone to his bed, she never would have been given to Ramsay Bolton in the first place.

"Sansa." Arya approached her, placing one gloved hand comfortingly on her sister's arm.

A bitter smile pulled at Sansa's lips as unshed tears stung her eyes. "It's fine. I'm fine. This is what I want."

"It's not too late to change your mind. Just say the word and I'll speak to Jon. He'll deny the request outright and that will be the end of it."

For a fleeting moment, Sansa was tempted to accept Arya's offer. It was not yet too late to turn back. She could still change her mind. But Sansa was no coward. She had come this far, and she would not run now. She had made a responsible decision, and she would stand by it. "No," Sansa said stalwartly, her shoulders pulling back in a show of determination. "This is what I want. I want safety, I want security, I want a man I can trust."

"This is all Littlefinger's fault, isn't it?"

Sansa finally looked down at her little sister. Although Arya was still a brave warrior, with every day that passed, she looked more and more like her old self. It was a comfort to Sansa, even though she knew her sister could not stay by her side forever. "He taught me a valuable lesson. One I will not forget."

"He's dead, Sansa. Don't let him rule you in death the way he ruled you in life."

Sansa looked away, unable to bear her sister's scrutiny. "It isn't just Littlefinger. It's all of them. Every last man I've ever met who wasn't a Stark. I'm happy with my choice. It is for the best."

Arya surprised her then by wrapping her arms around Sansa's waist and hugging her tightly. It was an unexpected gesture of solidarity, one they wouldn't have shared back in their childhood days. Things had changed between them since they'd been reunited. Along with Bran and Jon, they were all that was left of their family, and they needed each other now more than ever. Their past differences were quickly becoming a distant memory as they tried to forge ahead toward a new future.

Sansa wrapped her arms around Arya and held on for dear life. She knew she was doing the right thing. It had been a difficult decision, but one she'd had no choice but to make.