A/N:
Yep, going to try to finish this story as fast as I can.
Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing. Seriously. I love nothing more than reading your reviews. You have been so encouraging and wonderful.
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Chapter 9 - Kindness: When You Want More and You Have Less
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When she is awoken by the soft knocking on the wooden door to her Bedchamber, Sansa stills. She breathes deeply, terror in her mind as she wonders if the Lannisters or the Freys were at the gate of Winterfell in the dead of night, and so her fingers curl around the handle of the blade she keeps under her feather pillow, as she waits.
"M'lady." The knock becomes more insistent, yet it stays as soft. Sansa knows the voice, so she stands from her bed, placing a modest robe over her nightgown, the blade forgotten in her bedding.
Her handmaiden bows low the moment the door is opened. "What is it?"
"Pardon me, m'lady," the handmaiden says softly. "His Grace requests your presence."
"Jon?" Sansa whispers in confusion. "Now?"
Her handmaiden nods, her head still low. "He wishes to see you in the Lord's Chamber, m'lady. He requests you to be quiet."
Sansa tightens the bindings around her robe as she thanks her handmaiden. The girl takes her leave quickly, leaving Sansa alone. Winterfell is colder at night, yet the hot pools that surround the castle ensures that Sansa can move without issue, her footfalls quiet as she makes her way to the chamber that was once shared by her mother and father.
She cannot help but wonder why her half-brother wishes to see her at such a late hour, nor can she understand why he wishes to see her in the Lord's Chamber.
When she comes to the door, she hesitates, her ears straining to understand the low whispers from inside the Chamber. She opens the door without invitation and enters without further thought.
Jon stands speaking to Maester Doric; their words pause as they see her. Without a word, Jon stands aside, and Sansa sees that there is a boy on the bedding. The tears burn her eyes as she rushes to Bran's side, her hand warm against his cool cheek.
"Is he—?"
"He's alive," Jon says softly, and she breathes easily. Jon reveals a blue vial in his hand. "Maester Doric says he must give him a drop of this every hour."
"We must give him water too, Your Grace," the Maester says with a bow. "At least a cup."
"You need not come for the next few hours," Jon says softly, easily dismissing the Maester. "I will ensure he is given his medication." The Maester bows before he leaves, yet, Sansa knows that she will see him again in one hour, regardless.
Sansa seats herself beside her brother, her happiness too much to voice. Bran looks to be sleeping peacefully. His clothes are torn and there is blood and mud coating his skin. His hair is matted, as if he has not had a bath in too long to remember.
"What happened?"
She watches as Jon pulls a chair closer to the other side of the bed, his shoulders tired as he sits beside his brother. "A girl…" he says. "Meera Reed, she brought him here."
Sansa watches him with confusion. "Howland Reed's daughter?"
"Aye."
"Where is she?"
"She nearly collapsed herself. They haven't had food or water in days. I gave her goat's milk, cheese, bread, and a bed... She's resting now. The gates at Castle Black were closed, so she dragged him all the way here," he says softly.
Sansa's gaze meets his, and she knows, as well as he does, that if the gates are closed, they are preparing for battle. But, that is a conversation for another time.
"What of Summer? Hodor? Are they resting?"
Jon looks away from her, and an unbearable sadness settles in Sansa's heart. "She said they died protecting Bran. She mentioned White Walkers."
"At least he's safe," she says softly, her fingers gentle as she brushes his hair from his face. "At least he's home."
"We can't tell anyone. She was insistent."
Sansa's gaze narrows with suspicion. "We can't tell anyone that the one true son of Lord Eddard Stark is back in Winterfell?"
She sees the flash of pain in her half-brother's eyes and she regrets her words. Yet his expression remains patient, and so she waits for his next words. "I don't understand it either. She said we need to speak to Bran first. So, that is what we will do."
"When will he wake up?"
"We hope soon."
The silence that falls between them is broken not a moment after by his apology.
"I'm sorry I woke you. I thought you would want to know."
"I did," Sansa says with a soft, grateful smile. "Thank you."
He looks away from her too quickly and Sansa feels the silence between them thicken. They are quiet for a long while, until her gaze rises to her half-brother. She sees the way his brows furrow in thought, the way his eyes have gone someplace else.
"What is it?"
He comes back to himself at the sound of her voice, his sigh betraying his tiredness. "I want to send a raven to Castle Black."
"You should."
He smiles sadly, his eyes falling in Bran. "I don't want to leave him. I'm afraid he will disappear."
"He won't. I'm here. Go send your raven."
Jon nods before he stands, his steps soft as he leaves her with her brother. As she knew he would, Maester Doric comes shortly after. She watches as he pours water down her brother's throat. It is a slow process that takes too long. She thanks the Maester as he leaves and she seats herself on the chair her half-brother had vacated.
She is so very tired and so very happy. Sansa does not realise how she has fallen asleep until the sun falls on her closed lids. Her hand still holds her brother's, who is still sleeping, and Jon smiles at her softly from his chair on the other side of the bed. "I hope I didn't wake you."
Sansa falters, words leaving her. She sees the fur he has draped on her to keep her warm, and she is reminded once again of how kind he is to her.
"You didn't," she says, and she is rewarded by a sad smile from him before his eyes focus on their brother once again.
"Lord Baelish is yet to leave Winterfell," Jon says softly, his eyes still on his brother.
"Yes."
"Perhaps now that the true born son of Winterfell has returned, he will miss his home in the Vale more."
"Perhaps," Sansa says, although she does not agree. She knows what he wants, and he will not leave until she agrees to marry Robert Arryn. "He knows, doesn't he? That Bran has returned."
She watches as Jon's gaze hardens with distaste. "He has more spies than Mance Rayder had Freefolk."
"What did he say?"
"More of the same," Jon says tiredly. "He suggested I go back to the Wall. The true Lord Stark has come back, he said. There's no longer a place for a Bastard in Winterfell." Jon's laugh is soft and hard. "Won't it be better for me to go to a place where I will feel more useful, he said."
Sansa's fingers tighten around Bran's, her anger rising. "He's wrong. Bran needs you here. So do I."
He looks on her with dread, and she knows he has more to say. "Winterfell is Bran's, yours and Arya's. I never intended to take it from you. I hope you know that."
"I know," Sansa says with a soft smile. "I don't think we could trust anyone more."
His smile is small, and she knows that even though Petyr Baelish's words had reached his heart, her words helped appease it.
"Jon…" She waits until he looks at her for her next words to leave her. "What did the letter say? You never told me."
"He didn't ask for his bride back, if that worries you."
"No, he wouldn't." It surprises her how fondly she remembers her former husband. "What did he offer?"
Jon is silent for a moment, his next words hesitant. "He offers that I go to Dragonstone to meet with the last Targaryen. She has the Martells and the Tyrells, and she wants the North before she marches on King's Landing to claim the throne. Euron Greyjoy has destroyed half of their fleet. They've lost men, and they need more." He sighs. "It doesn't matter. Nothing south of the Wall matters."
"Will they give you more men in return?"
"Aye. And dragons."
"Why do they need our men? They can take King's Landing with dragons."
"Not unless they want King's Landing burnt to the ground. I can't imagine dragons being able to set fire to one man while the man next to him goes unscathed."
Her next words are cautious, slow and suspicious. "Why have you not answered him? If Dragonglass and Valyrian steel, both forged in dragon fire can defeat White Walkers, that would mean that you could defeat their army with her dragons."
"Aye," he says heavily.
"You have not accepted this offer. Why?"
He is silent for a moment, his gaze on Bran a long while, before he speaks. "The North does not care who sits on the Iron Throne. The only reason father could convince them to take up arms against the Mad King was because he burned Northmen alive. The only reason the banners came when Robb called was because they had taken a Northman as a hostage. Tyrion Lannister knows this. He knows that they will not fight unless they fight for family, for blood."
Sansa falters, his true words pressing into her chest. "He proposes marriage," she says softly.
"Aye." Jon's voice is pained. "She will give me the Stark name for my men. And I will give my men for her dragons."
They fall silent, and Sansa wants nothing more than to walk away and pace for a while with her thoughts. She cannot help but think on all things that had happened to her from the day she left Winterfell. She thinks of her mother and father and her siblings. She thinks of her aunt as she fell, and her cousin who resides in the Vale. She thinks of the stories that were told by Old nan; the stories Tormund Giantsbane had told her of what lies beyond the Wall. She thinks of how Edd had told her what had happened to her half-brother when he had wanted to protect the Wildlings. She remembers the day she placed her hand on his wound and breathed deeply to calm her beating heart. When her gaze falls on her younger brother, she knows that there is only one thing that can be done.
"You must accept this offer," she says, her eyes meeting his for too long.
Jon sighs, his shoulders dropping and his eyes sad. "Aye, I know."
She turns away from him, for fear that he will see how she truly feels about his offer of marriage. She brings her brother's hand to her lips instead, her eyes closing as she begs her brother to please, please, wake up.
He is all she will have. And for now, this is all she wants.
