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Sansa – greeting her sister
As Arya slowly rode nearer, Sansa recovered. Brienne and the Maester were holding her. "It does appear to be your sister, my lady," Brienne said, grinning like a mad woman. "She will be here soon."
"I thought she was dead," Sansa whispered. "I had resigned myself to never seeing her again. And the direwolf too. Nymeria. Nymeria has found her again. After all these years!" She almost shrieked. It was too much all at once. Too much to comprehend. Too much to feel. Sansa was happy but anxious at the same time. Arya and Sansa had had their problems in the past. Would they even get along?
As her sister rode through the gate Sansa saw that it was truly her. Older, much more hardened, but still her sister. Her dark hair, her dark eyes. The cocky expression in them; still quite unwilling to accept easy answers.
"Arya," she said, "You're here."
"Yes," her sister answered. "Who would have thought?" she smiled. "It still looks the same." She dismounted and walked towards her. Sansa opened her arms for an embrace. Her sister was still so skinny, she felt as they hugged each other.
"Winterfell itself hasn't changed much," she said as she held her younger sister. "I'm afraid everything else has though." It was hard not to cry and the words almost got stuck in her throat.
"Yes," Arya said. "It has."
"You've met Brienne, haven't you?" Sansa said, introducing her. "Some time ago?"
Arya's eyes narrowed. "I have," she replied carefully, noticing her belly. "You were in armor back then," she remarked, a smile on her lips.
Brienne laughed. "Indeed, I was," she replied, "and I do intend to get into armor again.
Sansa was a little taken aback by that. "You do?" she said, "But, you'll… You'll be a mother."
Both Brienne and Arya smirked at her. "One does not exclude the other," Arya said, "Am I right?"
"Precisely," Brienne said. "I sure hope it does not."
Sansa shook her head. "I don't think I will ever understand you two," she said, sighing a little. They made her feel like the odd one out.
Arya shrugged. "Someone has to be the Lady of Winterfell," she said. "And I won't be her."
That made Sansa smile. "You never did," she said. "Not even when we were very little."
"Some things haven't changed after all then," Arya grinned.
Sansa smiled back. "That's good to know," she said.
Jaime - at home
As soon as he came home, Jaime noticed something was amiss. He heard howling and the kitchen had been smashed. Herbs and potions lay splattered on the floor and the pots and pans were broken and smashed to pieces. The howling changed into soft sobs and came from Suzanne's room. Jaime knocked on her door and she told him to enter. Suzanne was lying on her bed crying her eyes out.
"What happened?" he whispered. "It's as if an army has crossed our kitchen."
"That was me," she said. "I was so upset."
"Why?" he asked. "What possessed you?"
"She'd dead," Suzanne said. "She was found at the bottom of the cliffs this very morning. No one has seen what has happened."
"Your … friend?" he gathered. "The one that…"
"My lover, yes," she said. "The one that caused the scandal. We've been meeting in secret for months. And I don't know… I don't know if that's what killed her." She looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed. "It might have," she whispered. "Perhaps I am to blame."
He took her hand. "Don't go there, Suzanne," he said, "I beg you. Believe me, I know."
She looked at him, peering into his face. "You mean your sister?" she said.
"I mean my children," he said. "With my daughter I was there, but there was nothing I could do. And with my son, my youngest… If only I had been there…" he said. "But thinking such things will break your heart. It's not a way to live, nor to mourn. It's not, Suzanne." She bit her lip and slowly nodded. "Perhaps you're right," she said. "I will find out the truth though." He saw her jaw tighten and a dark look appeared in her eyes. "I will," she repeated.
"I'll help you," he said. "You deserve to know the truth."
It wouldn't be easy, he knew. These things were hardly ever clean-cut.
Ser Davos – riding back to Winterfell
The King of the North had ordered them to ride back home. Ser Davos, Tormund and a number of soldiers – Northerners and wildlings both. The fighting lasted longer than they had expected and Tormund had grown weary. Ser Davos thought Tormund was lucky to be granted such an exception. He hadn't knelt for the King of the North and it had been accepted without question. He longed to be present when his child was born and it was granted. Ser Davos almost wondered if it was sorcery, like the Red Woman had had her hold over Stannis. But he knew this wasn't the case. It was a matter of respect, mutual respect and admiration. The wildlings – the Free Folk – strongly valued their independence and even as King, Jon Snow still understood that.
"I hope I'm not too late," Tormund said, as he spurred on his horse. "Brienne will have my head for it."
Ser Davos laughed. "I think she will understand," he said, "Brienne always struck me as the calm and reasonable sort."
"You'd say that," Tormund muttered back, the words almost getting muffled in both his beard and the sharp wind, "but when she's provoked… Well, you wouldn't want to see that."
Ser Davos grinned. "The perils of marriage," he said, "Don't tell me they're not worth it."
At that Tormund laughed too. "They are indeed," he said, showing all his teeth.
They had been sent back to begin regrouping, strategizing. Soon a bigger battle would come. The battle. These small skirmishes on the border were only the beginning. They had won some; they had lost some. Ser Davos had only glimpsed dragons in the far distance. He'd been fortunate enough to be at the battles where the Queen herself was not. The stories he had heard from the soldiers who had been present had curdled his blood. Fire that melted iron, stone. Fire that seared people away, like meat falling of the bone. It had reminded him of the curse of wildfire. It also brought back haunting memories of the Red Woman. Her obsession with fire, with killing that way. Ruthlessly. The murder of Shireen. The dark shadow that was said to have killed Renly.
"She was there, wasn't she?" he suddenly whispered. "Brienne was accused of having killed Renly."
"It was magic. Dark magic." Tormund replied. "A shadow of some sort."
Ser Davos nodded. "Magic," he spat. "It always comes down to magic. The terrors beyond the wall. The fire of dragons."
He noticed Tormund staring at him, incredulously. "What?" he snapped. "I just long for a fair fight for a change."
Tormund shrugged. "Fair fights don't exist," he said. "If life was fair, we wouldn't have to fight."
Ser Davos shook his head, privately smiling at the simple – yet true – logic. That was wildlings for you, he thought.
"We just have to make sure we win," Tormund said. "Fair or not."
"Aye," Ser Davos replied and as he heard the wind howling even louder, he also spurred on his horse.