Reunion at Winterfell scene. Switching POV to Sansa for a couple of chapters.
Sansa paced the walls of Winterfell anxiously. From the raven Jon had sent, she knew that he hoped to arrive by today and not a moment too soon given the news from Eastwatch. Everyone north of Winterfell had been evacuating for days ever since Bran had awoken her in the middle of the night to tell her the news. Sansa had been sending the women and children South, but conscripting every able-bodied man between 16 and 60. Those who were willing to fight were being trained to do so while the rest she'd put to work organizing supplies and building defenses. There was no lack of things she should be doing, but the prospect of Jon arriving had her on edge all day. She'd given up writing yet more letters as a lost cause and taken to the ramparts to await his arrival. And not just his, but the dragon queen as well. Who was this woman that Jon saw fit to entrust the fate of the North to?
Finally, she heard a horn blast and the gates of Winterfell opened to admit the party – smaller than Sansa had been expecting. Jon looked much as he had last time she'd seen him, though at least he looked neater and managed his hair better now than he had as a boy. Riding next to him and looking as if she'd been born in the saddle – Sansa's breath caught. Daenerys Targaryen was quite possibly the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. It wasn't just her silver hair or bee-stung lips, but Daenerys carried herself with a confidence unmatched even by Cersei. Where Cersei seemed brittle, Daenerys seemed utterly at home with herself even riding into a marginally friendly keep with only a token guard. She must, Sansa realized, truly trust Jon, which spoke well of her in one aspect at least.
A loud cry sent Sansa's eyes upwards. Her breath caught as she saw two dragons circling the keep. She knew of their existence, of course, but seeing them was entirely different than hearing about them. Sansa started to make her way down to the courtyard to greet her brother and their royal guest.
Jon swiftly dismounted and then offered his hand to Daenerys to aid her down. She accepted, a bit surprisingly, since any woman who rode that well surely didn't need the help. Sansa noted with a twinge of envious satisfaction that Daenerys was quite short when not on a horse. Jon was still looking at his queen when a shout from across the yard interrupted them. Sansa looked heavenward and prayed for strength as she saw her sister hurtling over the ground towards their brother. She'd hoped that Arya might have gained some sense over the years and know not to act like a complete hooligan in front of royalty, but she seemed to have only acquired the skills to murder people in multiple inventive ways.
Sansa blanched as Daenerys's two guards reacted to the potential threat of her sister. They stepped in front of Daenerys and began to draw their swords until she stopped them with a rapid command. Sansa began to hurry down the stairs as quickly as possible without it being unseemly for the Lady of Winterfell. Daenerys's guards weren't wrong to view Arya as a danger though from what Sansa had seen, two guards would not necessarily be enough to stop her. Jon, at least, let go of Daenerys's hand and ran forward to greet Arya. Sansa's lips quirked in a smile when Jon picked up their youngest sister in an enormous bear hug. Despite all their differences, he'd greeted her that way too, at the Wall.
At last, Sansa reached the royal party. Jon was still occupied with hugging Arya so it was up to Sansa to show the queen that they weren't completely without manners in the North. She curtsied gracefully. "Queen Daenerys, I bid you welcome to our home. I'm Lady Stark and I've instructed rooms to be prepared for you and your party."
Daenerys smiled graciously. "Thank you, Lady Stark. Jon has told me much about you."
Sansa's eyebrow twitched. Jon and not Lord Snow, she thought – the dragon queen assumed an overly casual familiarity.
"Your Grace, these are my sisters Sansa and Arya," Jon interjected, having finally remembered his duty.
Arya executed a surprisingly passable bow. Sansa did wish her sister looked a little less like she was deciding whether Queen Daenerys was a bug that needed to be squished though.
"I apologize for the disarray – refugees have been arriving daily since the Wall fell," Sansa said after suitable pleasantries had been exchanged.
"Understandable. What is being done to secure the North?" Daenerys asked Sansa in the manner of expecting a military report.
"I ordered a complete evacuation of everyone north of Last River, Your Grace. Until your armies arrive, our best defense is to deprive the Night King of further soldiers. The Night's Watch, or what's left of them, is establishing barricades and traps to limit movement of the Army of the Dead as best they can. They've avoided direct engagement thus far. Bran has been very useful in tracking everyone's position."
Daenerys straightened. "Good. As you know the North and are familiar with the people, I'd like you to work with my Hand on these plans going forward."
Sansa nodded in acknowledgement, pleased she would not be dismissed entirely now that Jon was back. At those words, Tyrion stepped forward. "My lady Sansa," he with an overly formal bow.
Sansa smiled in spite of herself. Between time and the experience with Ramsay, she'd come to look back on her short marriage to Tyrion with much more appreciation than she'd ever felt back then. Though still not someone she'd ever wish to wed, she realized now that Tyrion had been nearly as trapped she. "Hello, Tyrion," she acknowledged him.
Tyrion's looks had not improved any, but his mind clearly hadn't diminished. "Miss me?"
"Let's just say that your good points are better appreciated in your absence," Sansa tweaked him.
Tyrion mock winced. "I'm glad to see you looking well, Sansa," he said sincerely.
"As am I," she returned the sentiment.
"Where's Bran?" Jon interrupted.
"Out in the Godswood, probably. He spends most of his time there. Jon … Bran is different now," Arya warned.
To put it mildly, Sansa thought. She'd never be able to look at Bran the same after he reminisced on how "beautiful" she looked on her wedding night. They were all different since the last time they'd been together at Winterfell, but Bran had changed more than any of them.
"I know, but I still need to see him," Jon said.
A lumbering presence behind Sansa made a new addition to the group. "He wants to see you too. Right away. Hello, Jon," Sam greeted her brother.
As Jon joyously grasped arms with Sam and introduced him to the queen, Sansa caught Tyrion flinching. Curious, she thought, not having any idea what Sam could do to make anyone flinch since he reminded her of nothing more than an overgrown puppy most of the time.
Introductions complete, Sansa gestured for the steward to take over getting everyone settled in their rooms. Placing a hand on the small of Daenerys's back, Sansa watched Jon guide her to the door of the keep before making his farewell. Curious, Sansa thought. She'd never known Jon to pay so much attention to a girl he wasn't related to – he'd been nearly indifferent to them when they were younger and entirely oblivious to the effect of his curls on the serving maids.
