As the Lady of Winterfell, Sansa had many duties to attend to. Besides organizing feasts and accounting for the goods in the household, things she remembered her mother doing, she also had responsibilities for the holdfasts that fell under the domain of Winterfell. Those were things her father had looked after. Now, as the acclaimed head of House Stark, those were hers to manage as well.

She remembered, very well, the division of labor her parents had shared, especially at times of feasts or the gathering of the Northern Lords. Her father would meet with his men (and occasional women) while Catelyn Stark entertained the wives. She had always taken special care to visit each guest personally, to see how they were finding themselves around Winterfell.

It was with those memories that brought Sansa to the door of Daenerys Targaryen. Or, at least, that was what she told herself. Yes, she did want to check in with the young queen, but there was an underlying concern that Sansa wanted to bring up.

So a few hours before they were to have their evening meal, a small feast Sansa had organized to welcome the whole host of the Targaryen allies and Northern and Vale lords, she eyed the two large Dothraki guards that had taken up a sentry position on either side of the door. In a clear voice, she requested, "I am Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell. I would like to speak with her grace if it is possible."

One of the men looked her over, then opened the door, asking the request in a foreign tongue. Daenerys came to the door immediately with a smile and bade her entry.

When the door was closed, Sansa curtsied before addressing the queen. "I was passing by and wanted to see how you have been finding things," she asked politely.

"I am finding things quite well, my lady. Thank you for your warm hospitality," Daenerys answered. "Jon told me what a gracious hostess you were, but I will be honest, I did not expect such a warm reception."

That was fair, Sansa considered. She had been just short of furious when she had received word from Jon that he had bent the knee. It didn't help, of course, that there was a mockingbird, tweeting in her ear, laying the groundwork that would have made her suspicious. But, by then, she was onto Littlefinger's games, his unsaid intentions made to plant seeds of treachery. In the end, they had not worked.

"In truth, I thought you would be more...hostile to me," the queen continued.

"Because I would see you as a conqueror, trying to reclaim what her family had lost?" Sansa asked bluntly. "I admit, it was something people were trying to make me think. That you had seduced my brother to regain your throne."

"But you did not believe it?" It was a question, but she could see it also being a statement. It was asked politely, as the queen beckoned her to take a seat.

"I did, for a brief time," Sansa replied. "There was an...advisors...who was leading me down that path. I believe they thought I was convinced, right until I charged him, with a number of crimes he had committed against my family and the realm."

"Lord Petyr Baelish?" Daenerys asked. "I remember Jon asking about him almost immediately upon our arrival."

"Yes, him," she said coldly. She could tell the queen wished to know more, so she told her. "He was, under King Robert, the Master of Coin. A master of coin, you can verify with your Hand, who bankrupted the realm. It was probably more the king's doing, but Littlefinger enabled it, I am sure."

"Yes, I have heard of him. Lord Varys spoke of him often. Almost seemed to admire him," Daenerys commented.

"I do not remember them from my time in King's Landing, your grace, but I do think they enjoyed playing the game against each other."

Daenerys' eye quirked up. "Then I guess the spider bested the mockingbird in the end."

Sansa nodded in agreement. "I guess he did."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Daenerys spoke again. "I sense you are not just here to check in on me," the queen said. "And I suspect, there is something to my earlier concerns."

Sansa tipped her head. "You are most insightful." It was then she saw a decanter with a Dornish red in it. She gestured to it and the queen allowed her to partake, with Sansa passing her a glass. "The first time I ever remember enjoying wine was shortly after I was married to Tyrion. He told me that I would have to partake of it on that day and when we were left alone for our wedding night, I had a long drink from my glass."

"I sometimes forget you two were married," Daenerys said. "It is strange, but I cannot picture him husband to any woman." She took a sip from her own glass. "And did you enjoy the wine that night?"

"Not really, but I was so afraid of what would happen next that I really did not think to enjoy it. But Tyrion, he put me at ease, before, during and after the wedding, and really, until the day I received word of what had befallen my family. After that…" She shook her head, not just to stop the horrible memories, but also to get on with her point. "It is a matter of the heart that I wish to speak with you about, your grace."

Daenerys took a deep breath. She didn't seem surprised by the topic. "You may ask your question."

Sansa mirrored the gesture. "I would like you to know that I have spoken about this topic with your Lord Hand." She glanced over at the queen, trying to read her face. "After some degree of intimidating looks. When you arrived, I noticed the closeness between you and my brother, then afterward when Bran told us the truth of Jon's heritage. I spoke with Tyrion shortly thereafter."

"Then go ahead and ask your question."

It was a command, Sansa was sure of that. "Now that you know that he is your nephew and you are his aunt," she sighed before going on, "do you still love him?"

Even if she allowed the question, it was clear that she was not truly prepared to answer it. Her gaze faltered from Sansa's eyeline, and she took a deep swallow from her glass. Finally, she gave her answer. "Yes, I do still love him." Sansa sensed there was more to come, so she waited patiently. "We are Targaryens, you see," meaning, naturally, Jon and herself, "and for generations, we have married brother to sister, to keep a purity of the bloodline. It is not the same to me, this weariness of such a close relationship. In fact, all my life, I thought I would marry my brother Viserys."

Sansa remembered some mention of that name since she had been there. From what little she had heard of him, he was rather...unpleasant, but she did not want to bring up the details yet. She was all too aware of dealing with harmful memories.

Daenerys, too, did not want to elaborate on her brother. "And I would not say anything close to a seduction took place for him to chose to bend the knee. He is not so easily swayed by a pretty face. He seems to value a person's heart above all else." Now she smiled sadly. "I do love him and I pray that when he comes out the other side of all these lies, he is able to love me as well."

Sansa thought over her words. She was grateful for the sentiments, but one thing troubled her. "I appreciate your honesty, your grace, but there is one thing you are wrong about."

"And what, my lady, would that be?"

"Jon is just as much a Stark as he is a Targaryen. He is the son of Lady Lyanna Stark, as he is the son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen," Sansa reminded her. "Even if he has never thought himself one."

"You are correct, my lady. I offer my humble apologies," the queen returned. Then her face grew curious. "What do you mean by he has never thought himself a Stark? He always believed his father was Ned Stark, correct?"

"Aye, that is what he believed, but he thought that because he was a bastard, it somehow nullified that part of him." She was suddenly caught in a memory, one that she thought could illustrate her point. "After we won back Winterfell, we stood together on its walls. He told me he was giving me the Lord's chamber. It had been my parents' room when they still lived. He felt, as I was trueborn, I was the Lady of Winterfell and they were now mine. He was still a bastard, even as he led our forces into battle, even as he was our father's last son. At least, it was what we believed. We had no knowledge of where Bran could be, if he was still even alive."

"You protested it, I take it," Daenerys assumed.

"I did. But I am not sure if you have noticed, it is useless arguing with him," she muttered. At the look Daenerys was giving her, she looked to be familiar with that aspect of her brother. "He repeated, once more, that he wasn't a Stark." Now Sansa grimaced, memories from their childhood fresh in her mind. "It was something I tended to throw back at him when we were younger. But I told him that day, he was a Stark to me." She took another sip of the wine. "He still insisted on giving me the chambers."

Sansa realized she was straying from the topic at hand. "You do love him," she repeated, wanting to hear it again. Daenerys nodded. "I love him too. I and Arya and Bran. And Robb did and Rickon did. He is our brother, even despite the truth, and we will not give him up to a woman who may be using him to further her own power."

A stern look came across the other woman's face. "I am not Cersei Lannister. I would not use affection to manipulate a man." Sansa knew she spoke of the Southern queen's words and body to keep her twin's loyalty to her, well beyond the man's stomaching of it.

Her utterance made Sansa laugh lightly. "I am sorry, your grace, but Jon once accused me of thinking I likened him to Joffrey Baratheon. I told him he was the furthest from Joffrey one could get." She took another sip. "But I also pointed out to him how I feared he would repeat the mistakes made by our brother Robb, as well as our father. The main one of Robb's was giving his heart away for merely love. It led down the path of ruin for him, for all of us. I do not believe you and Jon are the same thing, but it is a concern."

Daenerys looked away from Sansa, her face turned to her bed. It was then that Sansa noticed a number of papers strewn all over it. She could see a number of them opened as if they were letters. Standing up, she walked over and picked one of the papers up. "I am, too, aware of the precarious path the heart can lead." She handed the letter to Sansa, who read a few lines. "They are letters from my brother to your aunt."

Sansa read a few lines, taken by the depth of Rhaegar's words to Lyanna. All the frilly poems, all the romantic songs were dimmed by the words written down all those years ago. "These were in the box we discovered in Aunt Lyanna's tomb?" she asked.

"Yes, they were. He allowed me to take my brother's letters. They have given me an insight into him I was never able to have," Daenerys explained. Then she looked at Sansa, a yearning in her expression. "I envy you, Lady Stark. I envy the family you have around you, that you grew up with. Jon has spoken much about all of you and even the...difficulties...sounded wonderful."

"I only wish I appreciated it when I had it fully," she admitted. "Even with Robb, Bran and Rickon, I wasn't the easiest sister to live with. I took after my mother much more than my father, whereas everyone else was either more northern or just better balanced at being both. But I dreamed of knights and maidens, and was enamored with the boy my father agreed to betroth me to." Even though nothing had progressed as far with Joffrey as it had with Ramsey, he still returned to haunt her. She shook her head to banish the memories. After another moment, she found herself smiling. "The second attempt at a Stark/Baratheon marriage."

"Second?" Daenerys asked.

As Sansa explained, the queen seemed to have remembered the story. "Lyanna was supposed to marry Robert Baratheon, a match arranged because he had been fostered in the Vale with my father. It seemed like a good match, the daughter of the Warden of the North and the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. In the end, even with all the pain it caused, I believe Aunt Lyanna chose correctly for herself."

Daenerys raised an eyebrow. "When I first learned of it, first came to know the truth about it, I must say, I was not sure. It doomed so many, my parents, her father and brother and on and on, down through the years."

Sansa had to agree. Because of Lyanna and Rhaegar's love, thousands died. It started a war that overthrew a dynasty and allowed the lions to rule the realm. Then, as if to remind the both of them, one of Daenerys' dragons let out a screech. "It did. But had it not happened the way it did, would you be here? Would you have your dragons, your Unsullied, your Dothraki? Would Jon have been there to bring together the Free Folk and the North?" Sansa stood and made her way to the door. "Think of it in those terms. And think of this. Had it not happened? Would the two of you be in the orbit of each other, to be in love? For I believe it when you say you love him. And I am certain he loves you. He needs time to absorb it all in...and to brood on it."

At that, Daenerys let out a soft laugh. "He does brood very well. I thank you, my lady, for your words, and I will see you at the feast."

"And how is my lady wife faring amidst the chaos of the recent days?" Tyrion asked as he sat next to her at the feast. It wasn't as grand a display as the one he had previously been a guest at Winterfell, but they were able to provide a good deal of food and drink, Sansa was pleased to say.

She was less pleased by her brother's mood for the evening. She saw him enter the Great Hall with Arya, but he looked none too pleased. For most of the evening, he sat at the center of the High Table, but he might have well as been in the corner as he had been in their youth. He spoke to no one more the necessary, even though she, Arya, Davos, even Jaime, tried to pull him out of it. It had to have come from his mother's letters. While the letter from Rhaegar seemed to have provided comfort to his sister, it looked as though none came to Jon from his mother.

"She fares well, but not as your wife, sadly." Pulling herself back to the present, Sansa meant her words. Even in the midst of Ramsey's torture, she almost wished that Tyrion was still there, by her side, protecting her as he had for nearly two years. "I think I should apologize to you, my lord."

"Apologies? To me?" Tyrion nearly spat out the sip of wine he had just taken. Then his brow furrowed, giving her a familiar self-pitying expression. "There is nothing you need to apologize to me for."

"I think there is. I apologize for letting Littlefinger take me away when you needed my voice to speak for you when no one else would," she argued. "If I had not let Ser Dontos take…"

"You would have been arrest right beside me, and probably killed before any trial, fair or farce, could have been held," he replied. "From what Jaime tells me, she still thinks you were responsible for Joffrey's death. And this is even after Olenna Tyrell confessed to him before her death."

Though it should not have been a shock to her, Sansa was saddened by word of the old woman's death. Whatever her reasons, Olenna was at least the kindest manipulator she had encountered in King's Landing. She loved her family and, now, it seemed obvious just how far she would go for their well-being. Her eyes fell to Jaime, talking off to the side with Lady Brienne.

Tyrion followed her sightline before turning back. "Varys got her and Ellaria Sand to side with Daenerys before we set sail for Westeros, along with Yara Greyjoy. However, in the attack I planned to begin the campaign to reclaim the throne for my queen, I was outflanked by both Jaime and Euron Greyjoy. He decimated our fleet sailing for Dorne, captured Yara and Ellaria, while Jaime took Highgarden as he sacrificed Casterly Rock to the Unsullied." He took another sip. "And I thought after the Blackwater, I was quite good at war planning. Jaime allowed Olenna a peaceful death. The Queen of Thorns got one last barb in, though. She wanted Cersei to know she poisoned Joffrey."

"He was on my list," another voice joined their conversation, and it made Sansa cringe. For as much as she had gotten used to the idea of her sister, the master assassin, the idea of Arya having a kill list scared her.

But neither of them noticed her reaction. "You have a kill list? And, pray tell, who is on this list? Hopefully, not me, nor my brother. He was at my side as much as possible during my ordeal." It was a typical one of his japes, although said more darkly.

Arya took a slug from her tankard of ale. "No, my lord. Rest easy, neither you nor Ser Jaime is on it. Your sister, however…"

"Cersei's name is on a lot of lists, methinks," Tyrion said. "Mine too, if I had one. And I am sure I have more reasons than you. Nearly forty years worth, in fact."

Arya's face remained unreadable. "I would have struck her name, had I not heard that Jon had won back Winterfell and been crowned King in the North."

Sansa blinked. "That is why you came home, you heard that news," she reasoned.

"I was told by a friend at the Crossroads, that he had been named King in the North. I...I did not believe it, but I had to take the chance that it was true," she explained, her voice faltering a bit. "I couldn't imagine him a king."

"How did that come about, my lady? I must say, when the Lady Melisandre told us that at Dragonstone, I didn't believe it," Tyrion asked.

"The Red Woman came to Queen Daenerys?" Arya asked suddenly, not allowing Sansa a chance to answer.

Tyrion looked amused, for some reason, even as Sansa knew what her sister was to say. "Another name on your list, I take it." But her sister remained tight-lipped, awaiting the Lord Hand's response. "She came to tell Daenerys to call Jon Snow, that she felt the two of them played a part in the great war to come. I did not even know he was no longer a member of the Night's Watch."

"He was named king because I did not wish it," Sansa said before Arya could go any further with her comments about the Red Priestess. "I knew Littlefinger was trying to use me to amass more power, so I set about making an argument with a few lords and advisors that it should be Jon." She jutted her chin in the direction of Lyanna Mormont, sitting with her men and, to Sansa's surprise, Ser Jorah. "I began with her, then Lord Reed, Ser Davos, even Tormund, planting the idea to see if it would take. It was Lady Mormont who actually brought it to the rest of the lords." She chuckled at the memory. "She took down Manderly, Glover and Cerwyn for their cravenness at not coming to our aid and repeated a message she gave Stannis Baratheon about who she felt was the rightful king."

Arya's face lightened as she looked at the young lady. "She doesn't know yet, does she, how correct she is?"

"No, she doesn't. Jon asked that it stay amongst us for now," Sansa admitted. "The thought still frightens him. So, only those who were present that day, plus Howland Reed, know the truth."

"The others will need to know, and soon. I doubt there is much time left until we are faced with the army of the dead," Tyrion said.

Sansa looked to Jon, still sulking, off in his own world. Her glance also caught Daenerys, knowing that this woman, this queen, wanted to help Jon with these revelations. Wanted Jon to love her just as he did before he was told the truth. "The others will have to know a great many things soon," she replied, more to herself than anyone else.