JON
The army marching towards the castle was in tatters. Barely a horse to be seen and many of the men wore mismatched rags.
The march was not kind to them.
"I'd have thought he'd have more men." Kyle's words were met with a chorus of the agreement from the audience above the gate.
"Stannis lost almost all his strength at the Blackwater, most of this army is northmen." He said, taking notice of the Mormont bear flying amongst the marchers as well as the mailed fist of House Glover and the banners of the mountain clans Flint, Liddle and Wull.
"These are the Queen's men."
And their days of marching for Stannis almost at an end.
Maege had learned as much from her time travelling with the Baratheon host. The lady had been reunited with her daughter and informed them that there was no question who the Mormonts and the other northmen would follow. Sansa had already arranged for meetings with all the clan headsmen later in the day, heeding Jon's words to attend each man personally to show them the respect they may not expect of her. She would praise the men's valor and strength, thank them for their service and mark them as forever remembered by House Stark.
The daughter should do as the father did. I doubt any have been feasted by such a queen.
A great thing to boast of for men who follow the old ways.
Considering Sansa followed the old ways and worshipped the same gods as the clans he believed it gave her a distinct advantage over Stannis. To follow Stannis was to endure the man's red god and priestess.
And it would be a difficult thing to suffer Melisandre.
To her our gods are false, our lives forfeit to her flames.
It was a relief to learn Melisandre was not out there among the lines of men. Apparently she'd remained at the Wall when Stannis left to march on Deepwood Motte.
Once again, word of such happenings had come from Maege and not the king himself.
The letter Stannis had sent Sansa had been curt and without warmth. The man wrote of how he would have himself on the Iron Throne, which was his by rights, and that the Lady of Winterfell would treat him and his men with the respect they were due.
Sansa's reply had been even cooler. She bid Lord Stannis to march to her walls and camp there in safety. Nothing was said of his rights or what respect Sansa thought he was due. He wondered if the man would expect rooms of his own within Winterfell or he'd be content to camp with his army against the walls.
Room enough for it now, he thought, what with Lord Rodrik gone.
Tents were being raised in much the same place as the Bolton camp had been. A camp he'd set to emptying himself, and not by the sword.
The idea had spawned from a simple thought.
If all the northmen here can be united we would have the strength to unite the North itself against any foe.
How the others had reacted had made him feel quite simple himself.
"You'd have the Bolton army march on Torrhen's Square for us?" Sansa had gaped at him. "You'd arm them and let them take the field?"
"Madness!" Ser Morton Waynwood had exclaimed. "They are hungry and at our mercy, as they should be…"
"And few northmen could endure such treatment for long! Even Boltons." He answered. "Keeping them in conditions like we do will only deepen what ill will they hold towards the queen…"
"Many already fear their homes and lands lost to them." Howland put forward. "We have told our prisoners of the siege at the Dreadfort, to rob them of any idea of respite in the east. Even now, there are rumors moving among the camp that once the castle falls Bronze Yohn and the Greatjon will set to rampaging across the Bolton lands, burning homes and dividing the territory up between them."
Sansa had been offended at hearing such and he suspected she was just as upset about not being told earlier.
"They will do nothing of the sort. I may have stripped House Bolton of its titles but I intend to raise up a lord sometime in the future to oversee and protect those lands."
"Let us give them more than a lord." Jon had gestured to Sansa. "More than a protector. We would give them a Queen. We would give them hope."
"Hope?" Mors had chuckled but Sansa looked intrigued.
"Yes, hope." Sansa beamed at the word. "Fight for the Queen in the North and earn back your honor. Fight for her and your lives, your lands, and your homes are safe. Give them something to fight for other than vengeance."
"You would offer them a place in the Kingdom of the North." Howland nodded then. "It would also remove them from possibly going over to Stannis when he arrives…"
"The Ryswells." Sansa had said suddenly, her eyes bright and alive with possibility. "Not just the Boltons, the Ryswells as well, perhaps even the Dustin men. If Lord Rodrik wishes to prove his fealty to me, let him do so by leading his men and the forces of his daughter against the ironmen."
"We hold his children hostage." Mors had smiled widely. "Rodrik is not such a fool to risk them by betraying you… and his lands are threatened by the squids as well. By the gods…this could work!"
"Our strength remains here, our enemies drain each other. It was Roose's idea." Howland made a face at that but pressed on. "With the men we propose to send, and the Tallhart levies strengthening them, there might be enough to free Torrhen's Square of the ironmen completely."
The Tallhart captains they sent for later certainly thought that it was possible. They even began pointing out strategies that could be used and weaknesses in their home before Sansa invited them to propose such to the army's commander.
The night of the meeting Lord Rodrik had appeared almost eager to undertake such a task. An undertaking which gave him an army and a chance for glory. Perhaps one day, even a place for him and his sons at Sansa's side.
The next morning, after he'd learned of the murder of his two children, things had changed drastically. Sansa had been sick to hear of what had been done to the Ryswells, most of the castle enraged, but their father had suffered worst of all.
In one short night the Lord of the Rills, who was already an old man, had aged horribly in his grief. He had already lost one son in battle for Winterfell, but to then lose another son so quickly along with his last daughter in such a grisly way robbed the man of all his vigor.
The next time he came before Sansa he had to be supported by his one remaining child, the poor lord clutching Roger's shoulder desperately. While he'd still planned on marching the rest of them had doubted whether the man was well enough to lead such an attack.
With Lord Rodrik drowning in grief, and House Dustin without a lord following Barbrey's death, it was clear Sansa needed a capable and devoted man to fill the void. Howland, Mors and Jon had all volunteered to do so but Sansa rejected all of them in favor of a different option altogether.
One she announced at the South Gate courtyard before the assembled lords and knights, in front of dear friends and former foes.
"House Stout served the Dustins and House Stark loyally for thousands of years and few men have done as much for me personally, as Ronnel Stout." Sansa had called out. "I hereby bequeath upon him the title, Lord of Barrow Hall and the lands of House Dustin. Let henceforth all those who swore fealty to House Dustin do the same for House Stout of Barrowton."
Ronnel had knelt before her as Howland had unveiled a banner that showed the Dustins' two rusted and crossed long axes with the black crown between but instead of backed by yellow, behind them was the chevronny russet and gold of House Stout.
It had been a good way to see the army off, the new Lord Ronnel riding beside Lord Rodrik as the two set off to rid the North of the ironmen.
Their departure had been an event steeped in hope and promise.
Stannis's arrival felt like the opposite.
"He comes." Rodwell pointed towards the middle of the army marching beneath the walls.
A small group of riders had separated themselves from the column. Flying above them was a banner showing a crowned stag's head within a flaming heart. They were making towards the gate when Jon turned to leave.
"Rodwell, it's time. Ser, I'll be with the Queen." He excused himself as Ser Kyle stayed, keeping close watch on the army below.
"You sure you'd rather I be on the stairs?" Rodwell asked as they walked the battlements. "If Stannis is worthy of these precautions, I'd rather be beside you…"
"The stairs are the best place for you to keep watch and command any action." He pointed to the direwolf awaiting his coming in the courtyard below. "Ghost is protection enough for me. You see to the castle."
With that Jon began his descent down the stairs towards the gate courtyard, his eyes taking in the defenses around him. He hoped the sheer number of men on their walls and moving through the courtyard displayed Sansa's strength.
Soon enough, the man this spectacle had been arranged for rode though the gate and into the courtyard. Stannis looked much as Jon remembered him. Perhaps a bit thinner than he had been but the king still appeared to be a strong man. Broad shouldered and tall as he was, his trials were still borne plainly upon his face, his cheeks and eyes sunken just a bit. His clothing was clean yet faded and worn. His armor was dented and scratched from use but gleamed from recent cleaning.
That Jon did not like.
He wears armor to speak with Sansa, the man shows little courtesy.
Jon endeavored to show more.
"King Stannis!" He hailed as he came before Stannis's party, bowing when they took notice of him. "I welcome you to Winterfell!"
His eyes quickly swept over the party and he recognized some as men from Dragonstone but most were strangers. They did not regard him warmly, taking after their king in that regard.
"Jon Snow. I'd heard you survived the Blackwater. I had not expected you to be the one to greet me though."
There was no warmth in the man's voice but he did nod slightly as he climbed from his horse. From Stannis Baratheon that could be as touching as an embrace.
"That would be Ser Jon." Howland called out from behind him. "A knight in the Queen's service."
The lord walked towards them in step with Lady Maege, Ser Willem, Mors Umber, Ser Symond and Ser Morton. It made for a strong delegation but if Stannis was pleased he did not show it.
His men acted little better, one actually let out a bark of laughter. He was a large man and Jon remembered him as a knight named Godry.
"Ser Jon? Did your sister's Lord Imp husband give you your spurs, Snow?" The knight asked and some amongst Stannis's party chuckled.
"Ser Jon was knighted by Lord Bronze Yohn Royce." Ser Symond came alongside him and looked sharply upon Godry. "A great man and hard to impress so I'd see those he knighted given the respect they deserve Ser…?"
Jon was surprised, Ser Symond and he were cordial enough but he wouldn't claim the Knight of Ninestars a close friend. He resolved to change that from now on if he could.
Godry was not as touched by Symond's words as he, the knight waving them away before puffing up to declare his own title.
"Ser Godry Farring, called Godry the Giantslayer."
Willem and Mors laughed at that.
"Giantslayer? Was someone else already called the Grumpkintickler?" Willem tickled the air with his hands in a way that made Mors howl.
This is going poorly.
"You dare..."
"Silence." Stannis said curtly, his tone firm and his face grave.
Jon marveled that even Sansa's men did as Stannis demanded. It had to be said, the man could command like a king.
But can he listen?
"Where is the Lady of Winterfell? It would be good courtesy to meet me at her gates, would it not?"
"The queen awaits you in the Great Keep. A meal awaits you and your men." Howland stepped aside and gestured towards the keep. "If you would follow us."
As the group went on, Jon saw the men of the castle guard watching them closely. It was Rodwell's doing and Jon felt Sansa had chosen well naming him the new captain of the guards. Jon waved to him to signal all was well for the moment.
"It is good you survived the battle ser, I thought you lost." Someone spoke to Jon's side.
"Ser Richard!"
How he had missed the pockmarked knight he'd known from Dragonstone's training yards was beyond. Richard Horpe was an able warrior and had once spoken up for him when there were few to do so.
"It's good to see you survived as well ser." He reached out to offer the knight his hand but Richard just stared ahead as they walked, the gesture either going unnoticed or being ignored. "And that you were able to continue fighting, I believe the king fortunate to have a sworn sword such as you."
"Stannis has more need for swords than good fortune."
Jon had thought more would be said but Ser Richard was quiet after that. It was an odd exchange and the silence heavy between them, yet it fit in well with how the rest of the group was acting. Few words were shared and less good will. Stannis led by example, his walk brisk, mouth set in a firm line and chin held high.
He has the manner of a king down well enough, he does project strength.
When they arrived at the room where Sansa awaited them he found her projecting something quite different.
Her hair was styled into one long braid which fell over her shoulder and down across her chest. Her bronze crown sat prominently upon her brow, glimmering some in the torchlight. The gown was grey but with white playing about it's edges and a silver direwolf broach pinned to her chest.
She looks as fierce as she does regal.
Lady Myranda stood by her with a look more sultry than graceful yet he knew that was how the woman preferred to be seen. To him it made Sansa stand out all the more.
They probably planned that, he thought, if Stannis has any sense he'll not underestimate those two.
"Welcome to my home good men, I know you are weary from your battles and travels. Please sit and we shall have the food served."
Sansa gestured for all those entering to make use of the chairs. He took notice then that none save Jon had referred to Stannis as king. Stannis seemed to take note of Jon's place at Sansa's side.
His jaw clenched.
"I did not come for a dinner party. I came to see if you are your father's daughter or your husband's wife."
The man offered Sansa a hard, unyielding glare and while Jon could see this unnerved her slightly she did not so much as flinch.
"If you speak of my marriage to Tyrion Lannister, it has been set aside. I was forced into it and the marriage itself never consummated."
Godry made a sound of disbelief and it was his turn now to glare at someone.
He may be trouble and if he aims to continue as he does, it'll be me he'll face.
The knight caught his eyes and sneered back.
"So you are Lady Stark and not Lady Lannister." Stannis said. "Either way I would have you do as your lord father knew to be right. I had no love for the man nor him for me but Eddard Stark was honorable and loyal. He knew who his king was."
"I know well who my lord father was. I also know who my king was. My brother, Robb Stark. King in the North." Sansa looked about the table at her council. "Made king by his bannermen who named me their queen. The North wishes my brother's legacy honored and his death avenged."
"Your brother was a usurper and traitor. He reached too high and fell for it. You would do well to remember that child."
Those words reminded Jon why he had no warm regards for this man. The implicit threat towards Sansa made his sword hand flex on the table.
"You would do well to open your eyes and see yourself in the North, during winter and surrounded by northmen. Sitting before their queen who has seen her enemies crumble before her." Maege spoke fiercely and Mors pounded the table and cheered.
"North, south, a child's table, it matters not. I am the rightful heir to the Iron Throne and destined to see it returned to me. If you mean to stand against me in that speak so now."
Jon saw some of the others almost ready to do so when Sansa spoke up.
"You speak of your rights your grace. Yet your throne became a Baratheon one through conquest, not through rights. My brother won his crown through conquest and I will see mine done in the same manner." Sansa reached up to touch the bronze circlet lightly, as if to remind Stannis it was there. "My father would have seen you king and I would do the same. And after that is done and you wish to try and make the North yours again I would invite you to speak to the Boltons and Freys on such."
"Speak plainly. I am not one for women's prattling."
"I will see my kingdom set to rights but I cannot forget the crimes committed by the Lannisters on the Iron Throne. I recognize you as King Stannis Baratheon, King in the South. I offer you the friendship of the North and alliance against the Lannisters. I have the power of the Vale at my back, a land that seeks a king who would rule justly and set the realm to rights."
"There is no such title as King in the South. I am king of all the seven kingdoms and will accept no less…"
"Pray excuse me your grace, but you have already accepted less." Jon jumped in, surprising many by doing so. "When the Lannisters seized the throne and murdered Eddard Stark you were at Dragonstone and did not act. Then you sailed to besiege Storm's End and not King's Landing where your throne was."
"Renly was a pretender who had stolen my bannermen. It had to be done to see me to the throne."
"This is what must be done to regain your throne." He heard Sansa hiss something to him but he pressed on, this needed to be said. "You went to the Storm's End because Renly acted a king and denied you men. You came to the North to act a king and win men to your side. My queen offers you her men and a great many others in your war against the Lannisters. The power of the North, the Riverlands and the Vale, all backing your claim."
"My claim, but not me?"
"How many more losses must we suffer against the Lannisters and their allies?" He continued. "Robb and you fought separately and suffered horribly because of it. Would you war with those who call you king rather than those who call you a traitor? Would you bleed what forces we still have, fighting each other rather then sending them against our enemies? Would you accept that a Kingdom of the North, no matter what you think of it, might be your best chance of regaining your throne?"
As he finished he felt almost exhausted. Talking so much in the company of knights and lords, let alone royalty was not a pleasant or common thing for Jon.
Neither was how Stannis stared him down and ground his teeth. The silence around the table was awkward and lasted far too long. Sansa staring at Stannis, Stannis glaring at him, and Jon wishing to be anywhere but here.
Stannis ended the suspense by scowling.
"You speak as if the affairs of the North aren't my concern."
"To be concerned with the North is well and good but it's for the Starks to rule." Howland added.
"And what of the Wall?" Stannis shot back.
Sansa was clearly confused by the question.
"The Wall and the Night's Watch have stood long before the Iron Throne existed, if we come to an alliance I'm sure…"
"Your maester taught you well, I owe him my thanks. Yet I need no history lessons." Stannis leaned forward. "Since you all have only spoken of the Lannisters and the problems to the south I take it you're ignorant of the true threat facing the realm."
He bristled at that yet not as much as Mors who slammed a fist onto the table.
"You're ignorant of what we'll tolerate of you and your lot if you think to speak to our queen like that!"
"If she cannot stand simple truths I suggest she go back to her dolls."
Stannis didn't even spare Mors a glance as he gestured to one of his men. They produced a bit of parchment which was slid across the table towards Sansa.
Sansa was doing her best to hide it but she was angry. Yet after she lowered her gaze to read the parchment her face twisted into an expression of fear and disbelief.
"This is true?" She swallowed as she handed the parchment to Howland. "It can't be true. Wights? The return of…no they are just stories…"
"The Wall was not built to keep out stories." Stannis gestured to the parchment. "The Others have returned and threaten not only the Wall but the realm itself. Lord Commander Mormont gave me that before I left Castle Black. In case the northmen I encountered would not accept my…word."
Stannis said the last part through clenched teeth while Jon was dumbstruck at what he was proposing. Even more surprised when Howland passed a hand over his suddenly tired face before passing the parchment to Maege and Mors.
"Are we really talking about this?" Willem smiled and looked about as if Mors or Jon would agree. "Are the grumpkins marching with them? On unicorns?"
"It is as Stannis says." Howland answered in such a tone that Willem's smile fell away. "Jeor Mormont himself writes of a large number of sworn brothers perishing in a battle with the Others and their wights, that he holds the Wall now only in thanks to efforts of Stannis and the wildlings who have come over to his side. More still, he expects their foes are reforming for another attack. He seeks help…"
Howland stopped when Maege put a hand on his arm.
"My brother is no man to ask for help if it is not desperately needed. And if the Others are back…" Her voice failed her towards the end and Jon had never seen her so desperate. "If the Wall does not hold them, Bear Island could fall…"
"Last Hearth as well." Mors growled. "I wondered what had the wildlings coming over the Wall so often as of late."
"My father always heeded the Lord Commander." Sansa spoke up, somewhat her old self again. "I thank you Stannis for coming to the Wall's aid when others didn't. If was not for you who is to say how foul things there could have gone."
Stannis appeared surprised that Sansa had thanked him.
He does rare enough things to earn thanks.
"The Lord Commander asks for help to hold the Wall. The Lannisters still hold the Iron Throne. Your throne." She paused as Stannis exhaled so that it sounded like a growl. "What will you do now? What action will you take?"
"I had intended to put Winterfell to rights and make it my seat while I rallied the North to their rightful king." He once again glowered at the collection of lords here. "The Iron Throne is not moving. The Others are. I would march back to the Wall with as strong a force as I have to meet them and defend the realm as its true ruler should."
That surprised him. Stannis was so single minded, so set on returning to the throne of his brother, he hadn't expected the man to scorn a march south.
Sansa, not to be outdone, surprised Stannis even more.
"A wise and just strategy." Sansa folded her hands over one another. "One I intend to adopt as well. My father and the Starks before him have always been friends to the Night's Watch. After we drive the ironmen out of our lands and crush the remaining Boltons, I would have my armies march to the Wall. To defend it and the North."
"As its true ruler should." Jon finally spoke.
He'd hoped it would please Sansa yet her calm expression faltered to worry.
"Well said." Howland agreed.
"Aye." Mors echoed.
"Would you march with us?" Maege asked Stannis. "Can we fight this threat as one?"
Jon thought he saw the slightest twitch on Stannis's face at those words. It was an easy thing to spot since the man had returned his steely glare on Jon again. The cold feeling he'd felt during his time with Melisandre crept up his back.
She was only able to burn men alive because he allowed it.
Stannis spoke not a word as he rose, with his men scrambling to do so as well. Willem and he did so as well, his hand prepared at the slightest sign of threat to pull his sword.
Godry looked to say something until the king held up his hand.
"I would retire to the counsel of my men. You will know my answer when I decide to give one."
"I thought we would eat together." Sansa rose as well. "I had a meal prepared…"
"I am not hungry. Feed it to your dogs." He shot Jon a final baleful look before turning and storming out of the room.
The others followed quickly behind while Godry lingered, challenging him still and offering one final sneer. When he too finally left Sansa asked the guards to close the door again.
"That went as well as expected." Willem drank of some wine.
"It went quite poorly ser." Maege sounded incredulous.
"Pretty much how I expected. Here's to the sore arse that's to be my king." Willem quipped as he drained his cup.
Sansa did not join in the breaking of the tension. She turned to him and he marveled at how well she'd composed herself considering everything that had been thrown down before her. How strong her resolve had been and how quickly she'd set their course of action.
Father…well, her father would be proud.
Yet Sansa was clearly worried.
"Why did you have to say those things?" She asked. "Stannis did not love you for it…"
"He has never loved me your grace." He suspected she was not quite speaking as his queen now and forgave her for it. "I spoke hard truths and Stannis is a hard man. He would be used to such."
"Do you think him fool enough to reject the alliance?"
"I'd hope not. The man is the only claimant to the Iron Throne I'd like to see upon it."
"Seven save us if he is the best option." Ser Symond said glumly as he stared into his empty cup.
Jon had much the same thought.
Besides those of fire.
And burning screaming men.
GHOST
His belly was full and the winds quiet tonight, so his slumber was all the better.
He slept about the bone white tree, its blood leaves keeping what little snow fell at bay. The small forest within the stone den was peaceful and quiet. He always had the deep sleep here.
The dreams took him far and away. Some to places he'd been, others to strange lands he'd never known.
The savage brother had been in one of those lands. Cold like their home but far more wild a place. He wasn't there anymore. He was someplace he didn't like, moving on great water. He couldn't run like he wanted or hunt like he wanted. He was trapped by wood and water. But closer, coming closer.
Not as close as the wild sister.
She was in the cold lands too. She had been for some time. Coming closer with each day. The men she was with smelled of worry and fear. Her girl's cheeks tasted of the wet, salty water that came when the men would whine. She was not being hunted though.
She was doing the hunting. And she was in her lands. Their lands. These dreams were not just his own. He knew that now, he knew he shared the dreams like a pack shares a kill. All crowding around to get their fill.
His mind felt crowded now, like someone was pushing in to take his place. A presence he longed for yet not in this way. For this was his place, his bond.
His dreams changed then, pulling him north. Farther than the great ice, into a land which smelt of death and a deep cold. In these lands something old and dying was trying to be heard. Pulling him deeper and deeper into the earth so he would hear.
He didn't like this place. The darkness here tainted everything. As much as the cold above.
The red eye found them in the darkness, bearing down on them as crows screamed.
"This is not for her."
The eye closed, the crows grew louder, their cries hurting his ears. Their beaks piercing into his mind and pulling the other one away. Sending her far away.
"She does not belong here." The red eye beheld him again but he fled. He didn't want this thing. He didn't want these dreams. "You will see."
Even as he woke and gazed up at the trembling of the blood leaves above the wind carried the voice all around him.
"You cannot hide from it."
SANSA
"I am glad I have treated Lady Maege as well as I have."
Myranda's words were almost whispered as she beheld the group of ladies approaching them from the godswood.
The four women of House Mormont had likely just come from prayers at the heart tree yet their manner of dress seemed more appropriate to a battlefield. Maege and her three daughters all wore heavy cloaks over ring mail or leather armor, with none lacking for weapons.
A powerful look for powerful women.
"I would not want to face the wrath of such fearsome women." Myranda exclaimed but Sansa felt no such thing.
However fearsome the Mormonts may have appeared the bright smiles on all their faces improved her mood greatly.
"Queen Sansa!" Maege called out happily when she saw them. "Lady Myranda! A good day to you, can I beg a moment to introduce my girls?"
"You may not. For it is I who will beg to be introduced to the daughters of my dear lady." She held out her hands and Maege grasped them, her grip strong and warm. "I have heard so much of them I cannot wait a moment longer."
Maege turned to present her daughters before grunting and jerking her hand downward.
"You were raised on an island not in a camp, show the queen your courtesies."
With that two of the ladies curtsied while the third, the youngest she thought, dropped to a knee.
"Jory…" The girl next to the kneeling one yanked her up and to her feet.
Following that Maege introduced her in turn to each of the ladies. The eldest of them was Alysanne, a short, chunky yet strong looking woman. The second was Lyra, a tall, wiry lady with a small scar upon her cheek and lively brown eyes. The third, Jorelle, was just older than Sansa but a head taller and had curves which would have made Myranda jealous.
It made Sansa happy that Maege could enjoy such a reunion.
"I know you all arrived yesterday but please, accept my welcome to Winterfell. I pray the rooms I had made ready for you can suffice for now, we have so many people in the castle that I fear…"
"We just spent over a moon living out of tents your grace, I fear having chambers of our own will spoil us." Alysanne said to a laugh from her mother.
She'd managed to arrange for the old Cassel rooms to be offered to the Mormonts and thought it the least she could for the likes of Maege.
"Lyanna will be so angry with us." Lyra smiled. "Fierce little thing had wanted to ride out from Bear Island and avenge the Starks herself. Her being there and us all here meeting Queen Sansa…I'll have to have a shield on me when I tell her."
"Lyanna?" Myranda raised an eyebrow. "Jon and Sansa's aunt?"
Maege and her eyes met without meaning to, a betrayal of the secret they shared if there ever was one. The lady recovered first.
"My youngest daughter, named after that very woman."
Sansa sought to change the subject and noticed then that Jorelle was staring at her with a confused expression.
"Is something amiss my lady?"
"Eh? Well no, not really. I mean, forgive me for saying so but from what tales my mother told us I half expected to find a direwolf dressed as a woman." Jorelle said with a laugh.
Her family did not share her good humor and Lyra smacked her on the arm.
"We've just been introduced and you've embarrassed us twice."
"Embarrassed us? I'm not the one who told King Stannis to mind his teeth with all that grinding…"
"Girls." Maege sighed, putting her hand to her forehead. "Your grace I'm sorry…"
"Don't be! They're lovely!" She said earnestly. "They remind me of Arya and myself. We used to argue all the time and..."
The thought of Arya caused her voice to fall away. Ever since the bastard's murder of Barbrey Dustin, his followers had launched several attacks throughout the Stark lands. Her people were now fleeing in droves towards the Winter Town after a number of farms and settlements had burnt and travellers ambushed.
Those who could not escape were killed if they were fortunate, flayed first if they were not.
She'd immediately sent men riding south to seek Arya and her escort. Her sister was well guarded and few attacks had been launched against the armed companies she'd sent out to find the hounds yet it comforted her little.
Myranda put a hand on the small of her back to try and comfort her now.
"You'll argue again." She said softly. "Or you'll share stories or tears or even lemoncakes if you want. I believe that Sansa."
She nodded at her friend's words but her eyes went to ground, suddenly fearful of the other women seeing her struggle.
"Aly take Lyra and Jory to the hall and get some food." Maege moved forward to touch Sansa's elbow gently. "I have things to discuss with my Queen."
After the eldest Mormont daughter ushered away the other two Myranda and Maege shared a worried look.
"It's as Howland told me then, your sister comes and you fear what she rides into."
"I'd thought she'd be here by now." She said truthfully. "I'd hoped at least, and with Ramsay Snow doing as he does…"
"Say the word and I'll rally my men and scour these lands for that monster." Marge growled. "I knew Barbrey. She impressed me as often as she angered me and to hear she suffered such a fate…"
"It was my fault." She admitted. "Had I let the lady and her brother stay in Winterfell they would still be alive. All those men would still be alive…"
Instead you moved them about to your advantage like pieces on a game board.
Your first thought was how to use their deaths to rally more support to you.
It doesn't matter if it disgusted you to think it, Petyr would still be so proud.
"And Ramsay Snow played no part at all?" Myranda asked. "I've seen you show your enemies more fairness and mercy than I could ever have expected of a girl as wronged as you've been. So forgive me if I can't allow you to punish yourself for that creature's evils and for doing as a wise ruler would. "
"A wise ruler would've had him defeated over two weeks ago. A good ruler would've protected her people." She shook her head as Myranda huffed and shivered against the cold.
"Lady Maege do you know where Sansa was heading before we chanced upon you?"
"Randa…"
"I've no idea." Maege said.
Myranda pointed to the Guest House, which was still under repair with men clambering about the roof as they spoke.
"To visit the poor people who have survived the bastard's raids. People she's had tended to by maesters and healers where most lords would leave them without their walls. The father forbid a king ever welcome such people into their castles…"
"Survivors? I didn't think the bastard was leaving any alive."
"He doesn't." Sansa began walking towards the Guest House. "But the hounds don't always kill all they take right away. They take some elsewhere to do the deed…or to do worse to the women before killing them."
Her men had fought some battles against the bastard's, sometimes being fortunate enough to catch the monsters before they could kill some of their victims. Ser Kyle had brought in four people taken from lands near a holdfast to the north. Jon had brought in even more from a surprise attack they'd launched on a camp in the Wolfswood.
He'd been leading a party to the south when Ghost had picked up a trail and led them within the woods. The camp they'd found had been poorly guarded, most of the hounds likely doing more evil elsewhere.
"I wanted to catch more of them but waiting meant sitting there and listening to what they were doing to those women." Jon had hung his head to tell her the tale. "I couldn't do it…and I couldn't get prisoners of our own. The men were too bloodthirsty, too eager to take vengeance."
"We found them once we can find them again." She'd eased his guilt. "You saved the people that matter the most. The innocents."
The captives he freed had been taken from raids across a great distance. Apparently some had even joined in the fight, one tripping up a Bolton even while he was bound and spared Jon an injury himself. She'd wanted to visit them earlier but with Stannis arriving and all the other matters before her she hadn't the chance.
Now that she did, it appeared Maege would join Myranda and her in this visit.
I will be better off with them, she admitted, it is easier to be strong with others behind you.
The second floor of the Guest House was the best off after repairs so that's where the wounded survivors were kept. Even as they started up the steps she heard the cries. They were a woman's and came from a room towards the end of the corridor, one a maester was just leaving.
"Your grace!" Maester Henly bowed and shuffled towards her, wiping his hands with a filthy cloth. "I had not expected you…"
"I came to see to the care of my people. Is something amiss here?"
"Amiss? No, not at all."
Another chorus of loud, pained cries came from down the corridor but the maester did not even flinch.
"That woman disagrees maester." Maege crossed her arms.
"Which one? Oh you mean the woodswoman. Yes terrible thing that the Boltons did to her. Took the skin off one of her fingers before they ravaged her." Henley paused as he gestured to a steward climbing the stairs to go towards another room. "The flesh was too close to rot so I had to remove the finger. The pain is constant I'm afraid. She barely sleeps."
"Do we have nothing to aid her?" Sansa asked. "Milk of the poppy perhaps?"
Henly appeared confused at her question which made her happy it was Medrick she had tending to most of the castle's affairs rather than this man.
"We have milk of the poppy yes but not in great amounts. I'd thought with no guarantee of further supply I would restrict its uses to those of status."
"You will not!" She snapped, not quite believing Henley could be so callous with a woman screaming so. "These people are of status! I want them cared for and that is status enough!"
The man shrunk back from the anger in her voice and began to stammer apologies. Her anger was so great she turned her back to him rather than harangue the man any more before others. She proceeded to check on the state of her guests herself as Maege ushered the maester into doing as she willed him to.
Her tending to the brutalized people, or at least watching as the maester's helpers did so helped little in truth. Still, learning their stories and hearing of their wounds made her feel like she was doing something productive.
Just because a king sits idle doesn't mean I should.
Stannis continued to sulk in his camp, scorning her invitations to meals and meetings while demanding her stores be made available to his army.
She could not allow such an arrangement to last much longer, especially with Stannis's northern strength pledging itself to her now, leaving Stannis's force to barely over a thousand. Not dealing with the man made her look weak in front of her bannermen, yet forcing a confrontation with Stannis, no matter how easily such a thing could be won, was not ideal. Stannis Baratheon was the only claimant to the Iron Throne the North could support, losing him hurt their cause against the Lannisters greatly.
That's not true and you know it, she thought, there's another you could support.
But to do so would mean sending him to the capital, to that city of nightmares.
Her plans for revealing Jon to the world had become much more complicated of late. Besides the complications it could raise with Stannis, she had known better than to ask Jon to do so before Arya's arrival.
She'd called him brother in her letter, returning to us only to hear otherwise right away would be cruel.
We've lost all our trueborn brothers. I can suffer to allow Arya a false half-brother for some time more.
Something she couldn't suffer was to go on being ignorant of what went on at the Wall. When they'd retaken Winterfell, ravens had been sent to Castle Black but the lack of reply hadn't seemed important at the time. With what Stannis had told them, it made that silence ominous at best.
If no word came soon she resolved to send word to Last Hearth for riders to go forth and inspect the state of the Night's Watch for themselves.
For now though, Sansa could only watch as a healer inspected the broken arm of a young girl Jon had rescued.
"It will heal." The healer said. "She was spared what most of the other girls that had been taken endured. So she has that."
"Why is she so quiet then?" She asked, the girl was staring straight ahead and made not a sound the whole time.
The healer signed and ran a hand over the girl's head, the stare still not ending.
"She saw things your grace, her parents and her hid when the hounds came but..."
"Hiding didn't save them." His voice came from the doorway.
When she turned Jon was there, half in and half out of the room, as if he felt uncomfortable here. Ghost was not so shy, the direwolf padding within, sparing a quick lick to her hand before offering one to the girl as well. After Ghost's tongue touched the child's cheek Sansa swore she saw the girl smile some.
"I had not expected you here." She said as she came to stand with Jon. Ghost offered the child more comfort than she could. "Not after what happened here…"
"This is where I was told I'd find you." He backed in the corridor and she followed. "And I needed to see you."
Despite what she'd seen today and knowing the state of the poor people around her, those words made her smile. A quick glance about them showed Myranda and Maege far down to the other end of the corridor speaking with the maester still. No others were in sight so they had a moment or two. She thought to quickly steal a touch of Jon's hand but as she reached for him he jerked away and shook his head.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing…it's just here is too risky and…" He leaned it then, whispering in her ear. "Did you come to my chambers last night?"
It was a strange thing to ask.
"No." She eyed him carefully, noticing now his face seemed a touch drawn and tired looking. "It was far too busy to try and I'd need reason, why would you think I had?"
His eyes flicked down the corridor and he did not speak until a servant had walked by.
"Truly you were not in my rooms? You did not try and wake me?"
"Jon…I only saw you at the stables and keep yesterday…"
She paused then, a feeling of doubt came over her. A feeling that what she was about to say was not entirely true.
But it is true, she thought, I only saw him in those places.
There was no time for our specials moments.
Somehow she believed that last thought wrong. Deep down she felt like Jon and her had been together at some point. Not acting in their formal roles about castle, and not so long ago. She wracked her memories for such a moment yet all she could think of was the smell of the sea and the urge to comfort and care for someone.
And the sound of birds.
"Sansa…did you have a dream?" Jon asked, his turn to stare upon her face. "Last night, did you have a strange dream?"
"I don't think so." She shook her head, trying to remember her sleep from the night before.
A trickle of assurance came soon after and she thought it strange Jon was able to guide her to the answer so quickly.
"Wait, I think maybe I did. A dream of us perhaps…" That felt right, even with few of the details coming back she was sure that was true. "We were at sea…yes that might be what it was. I dreamt about our trip through the Bite, when you and I cared for one another…"
"Through the Bite?" Jon was confused again. "You didn't dream of Arya or… a different sea? Of a dark place? Of wolves?"
His words inspired almost a panic in her, a great unwelcome feeling like somehow she didn't belong here. A series of muffled shouts and bangs came from one of the rooms at the end of the corridor and she backed away towards it.
"I don't understand. Why are we talking about dreams?" She gestured to the end of the hall. "What do my dreams matter when there are people suffering?"
"Sansa…"
"You did what!" Maege's yell caused both Jon and her to gaze down at the lady.
Maege had advanced so far upon Henly that he was flush with the wall and looking to sink deeper into the stone. Myranda was standing open-mouthed, facing the door from which the noise was coming from.
"He's mad! Or a liar!" Henly protested, as he looked about for help. "I didn't want him upsetting the others…"
"Upsetting others? You let that woman scream for hours!"
"She wasn't spreading lies! Falsehoods about the royal family!"
"Maege, what is happening here?" She came on them, gently easing her lady back from the maester.
"This bloody grey fool…"
"I am a maester of the citadel!"
"Then you know better than to interrupt a lady." Jon put in.
"Has he denied someone else care?" She asked through the thumping behind the doorway.
"I have denied none of my charges anything! I was merely…"
"He denied you your grace." Maege hissed at the man. "He kept word from your ears and endangered your sister."
"It is not true!" Henly argued. "I was going to tell Medrick of this madness but he was most engrossed in tending to the ravens that I thought the ravings of some mad boy could wait."
"What does this have to do with my sister?"
Maege's mention of Arya bothered her. Her sister's journey to Winterfell was a well-kept secret. She'd kept word of Arya's journey strictly limited to only a few of her lords and trusted men.
"He says he has a lad in there bound and gagged…"
"For his protection! And the Queen's!" Henly interrupted again. "His injuries were grievous! When the ser brought him in he had not yet woken and when he did, he insisted on trying to leave his bed and making his injuries all the worse!"
"As would I if I had been a part of the princess's party!" Maege yelled so harshly that the man closed his eyes against it.
Sansa was standing in shock when Jon turned from them and burst through the door.
"I knew of no such party!" Henly argued as she made to follow Jon. "How would it look? A mad boy spreading tales of the princess being attacked?"
She ignored him as she entered the chamber, upset to find the situation within much as Maege described. For what was supposed to be a sick room had turned into a prison.
A young man was indeed bound to the bed, his arms and legs tied to the four corners and his mouth gagged. Even as restrained as he was, he was bucking and bouncing upon the bed and making muffled sounds through his gag. She could make out little of his features as his face was swollen and bruised. The side of his face turned towards her showed an eye bandaged thickly and she wondered if he even knew of their arrival.
"Easy lad!" Jon said, causing the boy to stiffen some as he went to work untying his hands. "Remember me? You took a maul to the face during the fight. You're safe now, so just calm yourself while I help you, alright?"
The stranger gave a muffled reply but stopped struggling long enough for Jon to get one of his hands free. She moved to unbind his other hand while Jon pulled his gag away and began to question him desperately.
"Is it like they say? Do you know Arya Stark?"
"I do!" He rasped through a dry, disused voice. "I know her!"
The voice pulled her attention to his face. Even as poor as he sounded, something about him was familiar. She reached down and jerked his face towards her, less gently than she could have.
"Ow! Hey!" He cried out and made to pull away from her hold when their eyes met.
His eyes widening in surprise and his mouth moving yet no words came out.
Which was familiar too. For he had always seemed so quiet to her.
Whether or not he knew Arya she wasn't sure of.
But she knew him.
ARYA
Arya couldn't understand. She could see Winterfell.
I can see Winterfell! I can see it!
"Brienne, please we are so close!"
Being able to think such a thing was almost too much for her. Actually doing it threatened to break her completely. She'd already tried to urge her exhausted mount forward once before but Brienne had made her ease back and their pace was painfully slow.
As slow as it had been since they lost Pod.
She'd still had hope the morning after the attack. Marlen and Brienne said there was no way they could try and track down those they'd lost at night but by morning they could try.
Four others besides Pod had been taken during the fight. Two were waiting for them along the road, strung up on crosses without their skins. She still had hope even after that because neither of them were her friend, Nymeria still had a scent, and there was a trail to follow yet.
Then the snow had started falling and the wind blasted at them horribly. The trails were lost and she could feel Nymeria struggling to keep the scent. Despite all that, they were still able to find more of their lost people.
Or at least what was left of them.
A pack of wolves had pulled down the skinless corpses, feasting on the fresh kills, leaving little but bones and a bloody mess in the snow. Much of that was already being buried by more snow, like the cloak Nymeria dug up near the gore had been.
"We found his cloak! So what! Just because it's Pod's, doesn't mean he's dead!" She'd argued. "We keep looking! He would keep looking!"
"How, princess?" Marlen had asked, gesturing to the foul weather all around. "I can't find any trail in this…neither can your wolf. And if we do find them, we aren't as many as we should be…"
She'd turned her back to the man and sought Brienne instead, sure she'd find a way to keep going. Brienne always kept them going and Pod had been with her longer than any of them. She was sure the lady would have them charging on, she would force the others to find Pod.
Yet Brienne had just stood there, clutching Pod's bloody cloak and staring off into the falling snow.
"We cannot be attacked again." She'd finally said. "We cannot be surprised again. Following these men could mean going where they lead us, where they want us to be. I cannot risk that."
"We can't risk Pod! Brienne there's a chance…"
"A chance we could fail in what we all swore to do, to get you safely to Winterfell." Brienne had clenched the cloak tight in her fists. "I swore to do so. As did Gendry and Marlen. Harren died trying to do so and Podrick…I know how…I knew how much he wanted to see that done. He would not risk your safety for his own. I cannot do the same."
With that Brienne had Gendry and the others put together a makeshift pyre, setting fire to what remains the wolves had left. As angry as she was, how disappointed and helpless she felt, she didn't take it out on Brienne.
Her friend had watched the fire burn the whole time, still holding the cloak and staring so intently into the flames Arya worried for her.
That night over half the men stayed awake, watching the darkness for any sign of attack. Brienne hadn't slept much either but not to keep watch. Arya woke up to the great heaving of Brienne's body beside her, the lady quietly sobbing into that cloak. The memory of the night of Moat Cailin came back to her so she rolled over to try and hold Brienne like the lady had held her.
If it helped, Brienne didn't say anything, Arya had fallen asleep to the sound of her friend's tears.
The next day they'd continued on towards Winterfell, without Pod.
Their travels were slow and careful, Brienne and Marlen taking them off the road after the next day's ride had come across another ambush. The direwolf had howled and run off towards some burned out hovels by the roadside, flushing out the archers and spearmen hiding there.
The Boltons had greater numbers but the men were dirty, hungry and Nymeria ruined their surprise. Arya had even loosed some arrows during the fight but never saw if any hit, for Brienne and Gendry had loomed large about her blocking her view of the battle.
In the end they lost no men but Brienne wouldn't risk the road anymore after that.
"It will add time to our journey yet adding safety is all that concerns me." Brienne had said before they set out on a trek to cross the river over to the east side of the Kingsroad.
Marlen had been sending men to fan out on either side of them, sometimes sending them as far as the road itself to get a sense of any threat upon it. One night they brought back word of an entire army marching south. An army marching beneath many banners, including the Starks. The Ryswells, the Tallharts, and maybe even the Dustins but from the colors the crannogmen described Arya thought them wrong.
She hoped they were going somewhere to hurt her family's enemies. To find and kill men like the ones who'd taken Pod.
That was the last exciting news to come for days. The ride through thick snows, the short days so they would have time to make strong camps, it all dragged on and on.
Which made the slow pace they made towards Winterfell even now all the harder. It would take an hour to get there and if she could just ride ahead it would be only moments.
"It's right there!" She yelled, trying to point out how ridiculous this was. "I'm home Brienne!"
"Arya, Marlen has ridden ahead to announce our coming." Brienne said and her tone was not a happy one. "The other men I sent ahead talked of a camp and banners flying outside the walls that I do not like. I'd have your family send men to meet us and we'll give them time to do so. Do not think of leaving my side before I give leave."
What's so bad about a flaming stag?
That's what the scouts had said were on the banners and the mention of them had Brienne worried so. The dark look upon the warrior lady's face caused Gendry to share an uneasy glance with her. Neither could imagine Brienne being scared of anything.
Now Gendry rode up beside her and smiled.
"The princess would stop a royal procession from welcoming her home?" Gendry teased. "We still have a chance to put you in a proper frilly gown…"
"Keep it up and I'll have you put in stocks!"
Her threat only made Gendry laugh and shrug, which annoyed her all the more because of how nice it was to hear him laugh and see him smile again.
"Don't be so hard on the lady." He said. "She's got a duty to see done and knows how badly you want to get to the castle…"
"You two should want to get to Winterfell too! It's got a smithy! You can smith a new helm and armor for yourself. Then you can be a knight in service for my house just like my brother." She spoke with pride for all her home could offer her friends. "And it's got an armory and a quitain for us to train at in the yards…"
"I know…I heard you telling Pod about it." Gendry's eyes dropped then and shook his head. "It be a good thing though, to use those things. It means I could become the kind of knight you wouldn't have to protect in a fight."
Once again her good spirits were ruined. She'd hoped Gendry had moved on from what happened at the Moat. And she hadn't thought of losing Pod in at least an hour. Her hands gripped her reins so tight her knuckles turned white.
It's not fair, she thought, I finally get home and my friends are all upset with me.
Or gone.
Arya kept her eyes locked on the castle as Gendry coughed awkwardly, trying to get her attention. She wouldn't give it to him though, her feet were poised to kick at her mount to race home. To get away from all her problems.
"That was unkind of me to say princess, I'm sorry." Gendry broke in. "I shouldn't…"
"You're only apologizing because you think I'm a princess and better than you. You're still mad because I tried to help during the fight and it's not fair! You weren't mad at Pod …"
"I hadn't sworn my life to keep him safe."
"Well you should have!" She snapped and regretted it immediately. "Or you shouldn't have. Maybe you all should've stayed at the Twins instead of coming with me. You'd have been safer. I-I wouldn't have hurt you."
"Wasn't really an option for me after what I swore, and the oath I gave your uncle is not the one I'm talking about." He sighed and leaned back in his saddle. "The night the Hound took you, I swore if we found you again I'd protect you…just because I never dropped to a knee before you to do it doesn't mean I didn't mean it…"
He'd never told her this before and when she met his blue eyes he looked away quickly.
"Knights keep their vows, at least they're supposed to. Just because Lord Beric knighted me doesn't make me a real knight. Others won't think I am. I need to show them I'm worthy of it, worthy of fighting for you." He struggled then but didn't close off like she feared. "I know your worth Arya and what you're capable of. I just want others to see my worth as well."
"You're stupid." She hissed at him. "As stupid as any bull…but you are a knight. I know you're a knight. A stupid and stubborn one but… a true knight."
Gendry laughed before his face fell some, his hand making a fist before him.
"A true knight… I meant to say these things a while back. Pod told me I was being unkind and a true knight would not treat you so. And for a mute like him to say so…"
A rider let out a yell and it tore them from their moment. The man was gazing towards the castle gate and she squinted to see what excited him so. He had better eyes than she for it took her a good while longer to make out what was going on at the castle.
Riding out from Winterfell was group of horses flying a direwolf banner. The men were riding hard from the castle down the road towards them.
And leading them in their journey was a great white wolf.
Nymeria bounded ahead of Arya then, quickly building into a full out run to meet the other wolf.
To meet her brother.
Now was when Arya was most scared. Now that the moment was here, when it all might become real, her fears grabbed her all at once.
In all the travels she'd had since Brienne had found her, she had never been as terrified. So filled with worry that it was bad news awaiting her at the castle. That she'd come so far only to be told they were gone.
Please let me see them.
Please don't let something happen.
Please let them love me despite…
"Arya, would you like to ride to meet them?" Brienne asked, her voice softer than it had been and the woman's small smile gave her some comfort.
"Yes." She said despite all the uncertainty. "Yes, more than anything."
"Then let's ride!" Brienne called loudly as Gendry and she kicked their horses.
She shouted in surprise, as if they could try and beat her. Her horse was much faster and she was thrice the rider they were. Her heart pounded in her chest as the air whipped against her face as she bounced upon her saddle.
The riders were closer now and she could see they were northmen of all sorts. None seemed familiar for a time until the one clad all in black caught her eye. He was spurring his mount at a much faster pace, riding ahead of all the rest just like the white direwolf.
It's him.
"Jon!" A voice Arya thought was her own screamed.
Any mercy she had towards her horse was lost as she kicked at its sides.
Faster and he would be right there. Faster and no one would be between them.
Nymeria and Ghost met first, the two wolves colliding, rolling about on the ground playfully nipping and struggling with one another. Her horse startled some at that. Fast as it was, it had no idea the wolves weren't truly fighting.
Try as she might, she could not force it forward so she jumped from the saddle and went on by foot. The snow was deep and her strides shaky as she ran forward, her feet slipping every few steps, but she kept going.
I can't stop.
I won't stop.
Even when the others overtook her she still ran.
The rider she ran to reined up before her. Then he too jumped from his saddle, falling in the snow before shooting up and running as well.
Any moment a rope would pull him away. Or some men would attack. Something would happen.
His outstretched arms would never hold her.
"Jon! Jon please! Don't go!" Arya cried as she leapt up into his arms. "Please…don't go…"
Jon pulled her tightly against him as he fell to his knees. Her own arms were wrapped around his neck and she buried her face against his chest.
"Arya… oh sister you have no idea…" Jon's words were ragged and his voice was deeper than she remembered.
Her brother had been a boy the last she'd seen him but now he was a man. No matter how he'd aged he was still her brother though.
How Jon kissed the top of her head as she said his name, ever so fiercely! She had remembered him as the one who'd always been closest to her, the one she missed most. He'd always said kind things where others would say nothing. Jon had understood what it was like to be one on the outside and had given her a sword before holding her tightly for what she thought would be the last time.
He'll understand what I had to do.
He has to.
"It was long…it took so long…I didn't know if any one was left for so long and I thought you were…" Arya was rambling and crying as she looked up into his grey eyes.
Her eyes.
"I'm right here little sister. We were so worried about you…I was getting ready to come looking for you when…" He gripped her even tighter and stroked her head softly. "You are in so much trouble."
She laughed through her tears. Then she felt hot breath at her neck and something pushing itself between them. She saw Ghost behind Jon staring at them as Nymeria pushed her head between them to nuzzle at Jon.
"Gods, I can't believe you found her!"
Jon reached up to pet the direwolf's head. Nymeria was only so friendly with Arya and she heard Gendry say something. Jon rose to his feet then, pulling her up with him to stand and she realized he was taller than he had been. Her brother looked lean and powerful in his black tunic and armor.
"Are these the people I owe to your safe return?" Jon asked and she pulled him towards the others.
Jon needed to know them because they were her friends and he'd find places for all of them. He had to.
"This is Ser Gendry of the Hollow Hill and this is…"
"Lady Brienne, it's good to see you again." Jon said quickly as he walked forward to offer his hand to each of her friends and to stand before Brienne.
"Robar did well to see you to safety my lady, I think he'd be happy to see how his deed helped bring my sister home."
The lady looked at him with an odd expression and Arya was worried something was amiss.
"Ser Robar was a good man…it surprised me when I heard you fought for Stannis on the Blackwater…"
Brienne's words were awkward and halting. Not how Arya pictured her meeting Jon at all. They were both the truest people she'd ever known.
"I was a prisoner on Dragonstone and I fought to free my sisters at the Blackwater. I'm glad you sent riders ahead, I would not have wanted your group to ride through the king's camp without our men's protection."
"We shall all need protection with Stannis about."
Brienne said no more and neither did Jon, the two sharing an uncomfortable silence she didn't like at all. Brienne and Jon were supposed to get along. They both understood her more than any other and their meeting was not going as she had wanted.
How are they going to keep Sansa from making me a stupid princess if they don't get along?
"Where's Sansa?" She asked suddenly noticing her sister nowhere in the party.
"The queen awaits her sister in the castle." Jon ruffled her hair like he always did. Only he could sound so formal and then treat her so warmly. "I was on the walls when your riders came so I took as many men as I could. I fear Sansa may be angry with me for not waiting for her to join us."
With that Jon grabbed the reins of her horse and offered her his hand. She rolled her eyes at him as he helped her climb upon the horse, as he'd done so many times before when they were younger. When Jon pulled himself upon his own he looked more a knight than any she'd ever seen.
Jaime Lannister can cover himself in fine garb and golden armor all he wants.
Even in black Jon's a truer knight than he'll ever be.
Her brother rode next to her as their party made its way through the camp outside the gates. The southron men gazed at them as if their arrival was something queer while the northmen among them began kneeling. The walls of her home loomed high above them as horns and cheering began sounding from above and within.
The feeling of riding through the gates of Winterfell made her squeeze her reins tightly and seek Jon. He smiled a little sadly and nodded.
"It was the same for me…it still is."
She didn't know what she'd expected after hearing all the tales of what had befallen the castle since she'd left. Her breath still caught in her throat at what she saw. So much of the home she remembered was now scorched or ruined. Much of it was under repair yet it hurt all the same.
Even Winterfell has suffered.
Nothing is as it was.
"Ser!" A sharp cry from behind them made her jump.
She whipped around and saw someone pushing their way through the gathering crowd within the courtyard. When two guards blocked his path Jon intervened.
"Let him pass!" He commanded before facing her with a look of apology. "I'm sorry, I should have said…"
The newcomer moved stiffly and his face was a mess of bandages and bruises yet even through the crowd she recognized him.
As did Brienne.
"Podrick?" Brienne said numbly, her arms falling to her sides.
"Pod!" Gendry roared as he began to struggle to get from his horse. "How the seven hells…"
"Podrick!" Brienne broke out of her spell and was off her horse, shoving a guardsman aside in her drive to pull the squire into an embrace.
"Ow!" He wheezed in pain. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to get here first…I tried to get free…"
She sat like a fool on her horse watching Brienne and then Gendry reunite with their missing fourth. Everything in her told her it wasn't true.
That nothing could ever go so well for her.
"Arya!"
She jerked at her name and saw a beautiful lady rushing across the courtyard at them. For a moment she thought it was mother coming for her. Somehow alive and wanting to welcome her home.
Yet it was only a little girl's dream for Arya knew her mother was as dead as the girl who dreamed quietly of such things.
No matter the truth of that though, her heart swelled to see Sansa hurrying through the throngs of people struggling to part before her coming. It was surprising to see her sister dirtying her clean skirts in the mud and wet in her haste. There was a crown upon Sansa's head but the tears spilling down her sister's face were stranger still.
She never cried for me.
She cried for boys and gowns and lemoncakes.
Never for me.
Yet Sansa was obviously crying now and Arya was off her horse before any could move to help her. When returning to Winterfell had been but a dream, she'd imagined this moment. How she would stand tall, a bow slung over her shoulder and a hand resting on Needle when she came before Sansa. Her sister would hear she was no princess and no matter how Sansa raged Arya would be as strong as Brienne.
None of that happened.
Before she had a chance to prepare herself, Sansa was on her, her sister hugging her tightly against her. Even through her cloak she felt Sansa's fingers digging tightly into her back.
She's here.
We're here.
"Arya. I thought I lost you. I'm sorry I thought it. I'm so sorry…" Sansa pulled back and kissed her brow, her blue eyes red with tears. "Forgive me, I beg you please."
"Sansa I…"
Whatever words she had practiced were lost to her. All she remembered now was running from the Red Keep amid screams and death. Of Sansa's screams as Ser Ilyn moved upon father.
"I left you… I didn't even try… I should've tried…"
"I don't care. I don't care about any of it. I only care you're here. I'll be kind to you, I swear. I love you, I love you, and I… I promise we won't fight…" Sansa was kissing her again and her eyes did something to her.
Soft eyes.
Mother's eyes.
Arya's strength broke then and her own tears came again. Suddenly she was small and scared during a storm and Sansa was singing as she climbed into bed with her. Arya had no idea where the memory came from but nodded frantically up at her older sister now.
"I don't want to fight."
It was the truth.
For the first time in a long while, she didn't want to fight.
******A_Cold_Wind_Blows betas this work and he's awesome. I usually post snippets or previews on Tumblr. DolorousEdditor is the name so let me have it.******