Sansa woke to her mother running her fingers through her hair. She rolled over to see Catelyn watching her with a gentle smile. Sansa signed and pressed her head into her mother's hands.
Catelyn began to hum softly, a hymn that Sansa recognized from when she had been small. Sansa basked in the moment, feeling as though she was being cradled in the palm of her mother's hand.
"I'm sorry, Mother," Sansa whispered, "I'm so sorry."
Catelyn urged Sansa to sit up and carefully began brushing Sansa's hair.
"You have such beautiful hair, my darling," said Catelyn, "red as the weirwood. it is your crowning glory."
"I love my hair," said Sansa softly, "I love that I look like you."
Catelyn hummed and worked diligently until her daughter's hair streamed like red silk down her back.
"Before," Sansa said, hesitating, "I was forced to dye my hair in order to go unnoticed. I hated it. It made me feel like I had lost myself."
She waited with bated breath for her mother to respond. It was quiet.
"Tell me."
Catelyn began braiding her hair.
So Sansa spoke. Told her mother that she had fled King's Landing after the death of King Joffrey. That she had pretended to be the bastard daughter of a noble man. A man that had pawed at her skirts and demanded that she called him father. That she had been sold away to marry a bastard Bolton.
She was careful in her telling, vague. She did not mention Littlefinger or Aunt Lysa. There would be time for that later.
"I went to the Sept after you told me," said Catelyn, "I prayed to the Mother, asked her for mercy for my children. Asked her for strength."
"I'm sorry, Mother," Sansa said, "I did not want to burden you with this. I didn't want to hurt you."
"Sansa," Catelyn knelt before her daughter, clasping their hands together tightly, "I want you to listen to me. If what you told me is true, then you have lived through terrible things. You have been forced to endure things that no child should, without me and without your father."
"I am no longer a child, mother," Sansa said tearfully, "I haven't been a child for years. I survived my trials, I am a woman grown."
"A girl of eight and ten is still a girl," whispered Catelyn, "and you will always be my child. You have bore your responsibilities with grace and dignity, but that does not mean that you should have ever had to suffer. You have done beautifully, my love, but you need to let me help you. I am you mother, it is my job to take care of you. You should never feel that you have to hide things from me in order to protect me. Promise me this. And in return, I will promise to always listen and to trust what you say."
"Thank you, for trusting me," said Sansa, "I promise to trust you in return."
"Thank you," said Catelyn, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.
"Mother," said Sansa, "can I ask you one more thing?"
"Anything."
"Jon."
Catelyn's breath hitched, and she leaned back from her daughter.
"I do not ask that you love him," said Sansa, her head held high in conviction, "but Jon was the first one who fought for me. He saved me mother, he saved Rickon, he restored Winterfell with me. I ask that you treat him with respect, nothing more."
"You think I was wrong to treat Jon Snow as I did." Catelyn did not ask it as a question.
"I do not presume to know what it was like to have my husband bring another woman's child for me to raise beside my own," Sansa said, "you are my mother, and I love and honor you. But Jon is here, beside me, beside us. Please, recognize that."
"You ask this of me?" said Catelyn, in a wavering voice.
"Yes."
"I will not promise it," murmured Catelyn, "but I will not dismiss what you have said."
"Thank you, Mother."
Anxious to soothe the sudden tension, Sansa reached for her mother and Catelyn willingly took her in her arms.
"You can come to me with anything," Catelyn said, holding her daughter tightly, "remember that. And I will always love you."
Sansa looked at the faces of her loved ones. They were grim, terrified but they were here. She stood, placing her hands on Father's desk, facing them all.
"We are gathered here, all of us, to change what's to come," said Sansa in a measured tone.
"Aye, like a war council," called Arya.
"A bit like that yes," agreed Sansa, "though I hope we can delay the actual war part for a while. What's coming for us now is the catalyst of it all. When Jon Arryn is murdered, Robert Baratheon will ride North to ask Father to be his hand. It was the beginning of the end for us."
"So we stop it," said Ned, "I'll take a horse and some men and ride hard South. We'll apprehend the murderer and alert Jon."
"Yes," said Sansa hesitating. She couldn't meet Ned's eyes. "But no. That's not what we're going to do."
Ned reared back from her, Catelyn and Robb looked shocked.
"You're asking me to let Jon Arryn die," said Ned, his eyes flashing, "Sansa that man raised me. I loved that man like my own father."
"Let Sansa explain," Jon interrupted, "she would never suggest this if there wasn't good reasoning behind it."
"First of all," continued Sansa, drawing an uneven breath, "you cannot apprehend the murderer. I doubt Jon Arryn would believe you if you told him."
"And who is this murderer?" demanded Ned.
Sansa turned to her mother. "You promised me, anything I say, you will listen. You will trust me, even if it is painful?"
Catelyn stared at her in shock, but nodded reaching out to take Ned's hand. He held it tightly.
"Lysa Arryn will murder Jon Arryn using a poison called Tears of Lys."
Sansa ignored her mother's cry and continued.
"She will drop the poison in his wine as he takes supper. After his death, she will flee King's Landing with young Robert, awaiting the arrival of Lord Petyr Baelish. He was the one who supplied her with the poison. Lysa has loved him since she was a girl. She was horribly jealous of the fact that Petyr loved you. Mother. Loves you still, sickly and obsessively."
"No," whispered Catelyn, "Lysa wouldn't do such a thing."
"She will," said Sansa, gently, "she told me herself. She wanted to prove herself to Littlefinger, and this is what he asked her for."
"I knew Petyr as a boy," gasped Catelyn, "Lysa and I both did."
"He's a festering worm of a man," snarled Arya, "I slit his throat for his crimes. You don't know what he did to us, Mother. We were pawns in his little game. You don't know what he did to Sansa."
Catelyn appeared shaken from her stupor, "what - what did he do to you Sansa."
Sansa looked away ashamed. "I was young, and scared," she said softly, "I thought he was my friend, that he would save me from King's Landing. He said he would help me, because he loved Catelyn Tully all of his life. He could never have you though, so he settled for me. He smuggled me into the Vale disguised as his bastard daughter Alayne. Kissed me and told me I looked just like my Mother. Kissed me while he made me call him father. Aunt Lysa was furious when she saw me with him. She accused me of sleeping with him and tried to throw me out the Moon Door. Littlefinger stopped her, and threw her instead. Later, he sold me to Roose Bolton's bastard, who hurt me in terrible ways. He haunts my dreams still."
"It's true," said Brienne, "every word of it. Sansa was half-dead in the snow when I found her. She lept of the ramparts of Winterfell into the snow to escape the Bolton bastard. Littlefinger is one of the most dangerous men in the seven kingdoms."
"And it is Littlefinger," said Jon clasping his hands, "that orchestrated our demise. He doomed us all, not that he even lived to see it. The only good thing about him being out there having breath in his lungs is that I can wrap my hands around his throat again."
Sansa looked at her parents. Ned's hands were wrapped in fists so tight, his flesh was white. Catelyn was taking short, sharp breaths and staring into space.
Suddenly Robb stood, and walked quickly across the room. He seized a vase and vomited noisily into it. When it was done, Robb set the vase down, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. If anything, Sansa noted in shock, expelling his stomach had put some of the color back in his cheeks.
He sat down next to Sansa, and took her hand. She squeezed it, gratefully.
"We're here," said Robb slowly, "to make a plan. Sansa, you were in the middle of telling us that plan. Tell us what we must to do."
Sansa nodded, and looked at her parent's grief stricken faces.
"Lord Arryn would not believe this even if you told him," said Sansa, "we have no proof save our own memories. Furthermore, this is only the first assassination attempt that succeeded. Jon Arryn has many enemies in the capital. Even now, he is investigating his suspicions regarding Robert's children. Once he discovers that Robert's children are not his, he will be killed by the Lannisters."
"All of Cersei's children are her own brother's, is that right? The Kingslayer?" said Ned.
"Yes," confirmed Sansa, "Jon Arryn will realize while investigating all of Robert's other bastards. Bastards who have black hair. If Jon Arryn lives then he will tell Robert, and he will disinherit Cersei's children."
"Surely that is necessary," said Ned exhaling hard, "The Lannisters' will lose their grip on the crown."
"No," said Sansa, "they will not vanish so easily. The crown is millions of pounds of gold in debt to Tywin Lannister. The Lannisters control the Westerlands, Tywin Lannister is Warden of the West. If Robert disinherits, the realm with be thrown into chaos. Chaos which will run one of two ways. Either Robert will legitimize one of his many bastards, or pass the throne to one of his brothers. If a bastard inherits, he will be torn to pieces by the Lannisters and the Baratheon brothers. If one of the brothers inherits, the wronged one will rip the other's throat out. Either way, we will be facing down a war that will rip the South to shreds and spit it out."
"And we need to South to be at peace for a while longer," said Jon, "we need to mine dragon glass from Dragonstone and we need to bring glass for the glass gardens. Both of those things are paramount if we are to increase our odds against the White Walkers."
Sansa looked to her father. He sat silently, grief etched into his solemn features.
"I cannot do nothing," said Ned, "I cannot and I will not. Sansa, child, to save a man's life is no small matter."
"To delay the start of the war would save hundreds, thousands maybe," said Robb, "Father, I think Sansa is right. It is not dishonorable to think of the larger picture."
"You would pass judgement on Jon Arryn," said Ned sharply, "and let another carry out the deed. I have always told you that an honorable man swings the sword himself when he is duty bound to execute another. Otherwise he is no man."
"Father," said Arya desperately, "you died for honor and it wasn't like a song. It was just blood and pain and loss. If we are to survive this time, you must be selfish. We can only be loyal to ourselves in Winter."
"Jon Arryn's death will not be your doing," said Sansa, "and I wish for your sake that it wasn't so. But Father, you must make a choice. Please, make it for us."
Sansa looked at her father, saw his great form bent with guilt and indecision.
"Sansa is right," Catelyn spoke suddenly, her blue eyes like two stars.
"Aye," said Robb, "I support this choice."
"We are already at war," said Jon, "a war of cunning. And in war we make different decisions than in peacetime."
It was a long time before Ned spoke. They sat quietly, giving him peace to think. Finally, he did.
"I pride myself on being an honorable man," said Ned deliberately, "It is who I am, who I have always been. And it has served me well in life. I have never had cause to doubt that, until now. You think I am a fool to choose honor above all else. I may be. From what you have told me, I looked the fool in the end. I do not want that to happen again. I do not want my family to suffer again. I will not abandon my honor, and I will question our decisions now and in the future. But I cannot deny that there is reason in what you say. I will mourn Jon Arryn. I will honor him when we put this kingdom back together."
Sansa could see the sweat on her father's brow, the tension in his shoulders. She was all at once terribly proud, and terribly sad.
"When Robert comes for me," said Ned, "what shall I say to him?"
"You cannot refuse him," said Sansa, "Robert is not a King who can be ignored. However, he does love you. You can bargain with him. Accept the position as the King's Hand. Ask for two things. That Stannis Baratheon will allow the North to begin mining dragon glass. And that the Crown will assist in financing the creation of the glass gardens in the North. Robert will suggest a betrothal between myself and Joffrey. Carefully refuse him. Tell him that I am too young yet. While in the capital, we will do our best to extend Robert's life. At least another year if possible, we need to get as much raw material into the North as possible. After Robert's death, we will leave for Winterfell at once."
"You and myself," asked Ned.
"You, me - "
"Me," said Arya.
"And I," said Brienne.
"Not I," said Jon gruffly, "I'll be riding for the Wall."
Sansa shot him a sharp look.
"The wall?" asked Robb, "surely the Others aren't already at the gates."
"No," said Jon, "but there are many preparations to be made. I know the wall best. I know the men at the wall, and the men beyond it. I will go."
"I should come with you to the capital," said Catelyn.
"No mother," said Sansa, "you must stay here. Robb, Bran, and Rickon will stay here. You and Robb will watch over Winterfell, and keep it from those who wish to take it from us. The castle needs to be prepared for Winter and for the possibility of war."
"And I will see to that," said Rob, coming around to Catelyn's side, "we will see to that."
Ned's eyes were far away as he gazed towards the fire. Sansa knew that his decision about Jon Arryn was the kind of choice that would live in his bones for the rest of his days. A man like Ned Stark never forgot.
