Chapter 25: Old Faces

"I knew it was you," Sansa said coming to a stop at the sight of the short dark haired girl staring up at their father's statue in the crypt.

Keeping her gaze on the statue Arya asked, "Do I have to call you queen now?"

Sansa fought back a gasp, partly from her knowing of Sansa's betrothal but also from hearing her voice after years of fearing she never would. "Not yet," she said with a small, teasing smile, "Lady Stark is fine."

Arya turned her head, meeting her sister's gaze. When Sansa smiled and approached, she turned to meet her, letting Sansa hug her.

"You shouldn't have run from the guards."

"I didn't run," Arya said shaking her head. "You need better guards." Sansa laughed lightly. "It suits you. Lady Stark. Queen Sansa… Jon left you in charge?"

"He did," she answered. Arya stared at her, so Sansa smiled to hopefully ease the moment. "I hope he comes back soon. I remember how happy he was to see me. When he sees you his heart will probably stop!"

Arya made herself laugh. Sansa turned her head and Arya followed her to their father's statue. "It doesn't look like him. It should have been carved by someone who knew his face."

"Everyone who knew his face is dead."

"We're not," she said looking to Sansa. "They say you killed Joffey. Did you?"

"I wish I had," she sighed.

"Me too. I was angry when I heard someone else had done it. However long my list got he was always first."

"Your list?"

"Of people I'm going to kill."

Sansa looked at her and chuckled, so Arya returned one of her own.

"How did you get back to Winterfell?"

"It's a long story. I imagine yours is too."

"Yes. Not one with a pleasant start."

"Mine either," Arya said with a nod. "But our stories aren't over yet."

"No," Sansa said raising her chin. "They're not."

After a moment, Arya stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her sister. Sansa took a breath, glad for the embrace she returned. "Arya. Rickon and Bran are home too… but Bran's different."

Arya followed Sansa out of the crypts and through the courtyard, garnering a few stares and whispers as they made their way to the Godswood, before anyone could stop them. They made their way toward a weirwood and found Bran sat in a wheelchair with Rickon sat facing him, his back against the trunk.

Spotting the two approaching, Rickon leapt to his feet and ran to Arya. Her eyes widened, opening her arms to catch him as he practically tumbled into her, wrapping her in a hug and lifting her up slightly as he swung back and forth. Arya chuckled, waiting for her feet to touch snow again.

Looking at her baby brother, now a bit taller than her, she didn't know whether to smile in joy or frown for all the time she'd missed. He led them to the weirwood where Bran waited, eyes shifting to Arya as if not surprised by her appearance.

"You came home."

Arya rushed over to hug Bran, Sansa looking down with a proud smile as Rickon stepped beside her, letting her wrap an arm across his shoulders.

"I saw you at the crossroads."

Arya's brow knit. "You saw me?"

"I see quite a lot not."

"Bran… has visions," Sansa tried to explain.

"He's the three-eyed raven," Rickon said proudly.

"I thought you might go to King's Landing."

"So did I," Arya said warily.

"Why would you go back there?" Sansa asked, rubbing Rickon's shoulder.

"Cersei's on her list of names," Bran said keeping his eyes on Arya.

Rickon's brow sank in confusion while Arya stared at him and Sansa realized Arya hadn't been joking. Arya seemed to feel Sansa's eyes shift to her, turning to face her. "Who else is on your list?"

"Most of them are dead already."

Sansa's lips curved into a smirk as she glanced down, more proud of how strong her sister had apparently become than afraid for what she must have gone through. She was here now, whatever they'd gone through all of them were there, alive, stronger.

Making their way back to the courtyard of Winterfell, they found more people filling it, waiting to watch the last four Starks enter reunited, a pack once again.

"Is it true?" Arya asked when they arrived at her room. "What they say about Jon?"

Sansa frowned, wishing yet again Jon was here. "Father lied so Robert wouldn't kill him."

Arya turned to them, frowning as she sat on her mattress. "His name isn't even Jon?"

"Most people still call him Jon," Rickon said shaking his head. "We all call him Jon."

"Where is he?"

"He went to meet with Daenerys Targaryen," said Sansa. "He should be back in a fortnight."

Arya nodded, her eyes drifting to Sansa, lingering for a long moment that left Sansa wanting to shift, but she stayed still. "You're really marrying him?"

Rickon chuckled. "It's weird, right?"

"Rickon," Sansa chastised before turning to Arya. "I am. You know I was never… I was never close to him like the rest of you. And then I spent months trying to get to him at the Wall, running from the Boltons and their hunting parties. I never felt as happy as I did getting to the Wall, not until he finally came back a few days later."

Arya frowned at the thought of her sister, perfect little Sansa, trekking through the wild from Bolton hunting parties. She'd heard a few stories about them on her way here. "He wasn't there?"

"He'd gone beyond the Wall to help the free folk," Sansa started, frowning as she thought of how somber he'd been when telling her of Hardhome. "He tried to get them all past the wall, but the Night King arrived with an army of wights and slaughtered thousands of them. Jon only made it out because Longclaw stopped a White Walker's sword and he could kill it."

Arya's eyes widened. "Jon killed a White Walker? They're real?"

"Jon's friend, Sam, he killed one too with a dragonglass dagger. And Tormund, one of the free folk, he killed one with a Valyrian steel dagger when they went to go capture wights for us."

"Why would you capture wights?" asked Arya.

"For proof that they exist. We sent out letters to every house we could think of and some are sending people to see for themselves the proof of Jon's identity and what's beyond the wall." Sansa's eyes fell, clutching her hands together. "When Jon came back from Hardhome we barely had time together before they murdered him."

Arya's face darkened. "What?"

"Some of the Night Watch who thought he was a traitor because he saw the Free Folk were people, same as us. They didn't deserve to die just because they lived beyond the wall. Some of the brothers killed him and we ended up guarding his body all day before the Free Folk and some of the brothers loyal to him retook Castle Black. The Red Woman did something and Jon came back."

"The Red Woman? Stannis' witch?"

"Melisandre's been with us since then. She thinks Jon some savior reborn to end the Long Night." Sansa shrugged before continuing. "After Jon hanged the men he declared his watch ended with his death and we left. We went south gathering allies from most of the houses not with the Boltons and rode to retake Winterfell.

"We've been together for months now, almost every day until he had to leave. When I thought I couldn't trust anyone, even doubted the knight and squire vowed to protect me, I always knew I could trust him. When I was afraid I'd end up raped and flayed like the women the Boltons hunted I kept going because I knew I had to get to him. When I thought they'd murdered him I was ready to die beside him.

"When we rode through the north gathering forces and I feared it wouldn't be enough, Jon made me believe we would win. When he found out about fathers lie and might have broke I was there to remind him it didn't change who he was. When he rode against the Boltons alone to save Rickon, I stood with the others, praying for their safety even though I know the gods don't care about us."

Sansa let out a sigh, fighting back the tears that stung her eyes after working herself up. With a small sniff she looked to Arya. "I know people say he might be doing it to keep the North loyal, but he wouldn't have to worry about that, not after uniting them all. He was their king before they ever knew his true name. Before we decided to marry I nearly ruined it all because I pointed out how we could assure allegiances from Dorne and the Reach with out marriages, but he still chose me and I chose him.

"I love Jon," she declared firmly. "Different from how you or Bran or Rickon love Jon. And he loves me. Different from how he loves you."

Rickon smiled at his sister, having never heard her speak of Jon that way but having clearly seen it. Bran maintained his usual knowing expression.

Arya's surprise at her speech faded, narrowing her eyes. "If you hurt him," she said with a slight smirk, "you're on the list."

Sansa chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Falcon banners flew as a group of Vale knights approached Winterfell. Sansa stood at the head of the greeting party with Brynden Tully to one side and the Starks on the other. The older man cast glances down at the Starks, smiling solemnly before turning his gaze to the wheelhouse's opening door as Lysa Arryn got out and helped her son down.

Sansa's stomach twisted before she even saw Petyr step out of the wheelhouse, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling on her with a slick smile.

"Aunt Lysa, Cousin Robin, Lord Baelish. Welcome to Winterfell." Noticing Robin clutch his mother's arm, staring at Ghost behind her and Arya, Sansa reached back to pet Ghost. "Don't worry, he's gentle as a pup when we're not on a battlefield."

Ghost let out a low whine, having submitted to her grooming that morning, though she'd spared him the bows. This time.

"Uncle," Lysa said shocked by Brynden's presence. "I'd heard you died in Riverrun."

"I'm sure plenty of people believe it too," he said with a nod, meeting her in a hug. Once he stepped back he looked to Robin, offering him a gruff smile and gently squeezing the boy's shoulder.

"Can I pet him?" Robin asked looking to Ghost.

Sansa lowered her hand and stepped aside, rubbing her fingers so Ghost put his snout into her palm. When he did, Robin hesitantly reached up and rubbed between the direwolve's ears. Lysa was staring at him, clutching her skirts in fear until Robin backed away with a laugh.

"He looks so weird."

"He's an albino," Sansa explained. Turning to Lysa she smiled. "I've had chambers prepared for you."

"Where's the king?" Robin asked looking around.

Sansa's smile faltered briefly before she looked to him as they started inside. "He's away at the moment," she took a second to think on how to explain it, deciding to go closer to the truth in case Petyr somehow knew, "meeting with the princess."

"Princess?" Petyr asked, Lysa clutching the crook of his arm.

"Daenerys Targaryen," she explained. "The princess returned from across the Narrow Sea. The King's gone to meet with her."

"I thought she was a queen," Petyr said smirking. "That is what she claimed in her letter. What she was in Essos."

"But not what she is here," Sansa retorted. "For now she's aunt to the king."

"For now?" Petyr asked with a grin. "Could that change? Has the king truly taken after his mother, betraying one betrothal to marry another?" He must have felt it was worth Lysa's nails digging into his arm to see Sansa's jaw shift uncomfortably, though she remained quiet until she left them to their rooms.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Her mother would be disappointed," Lysa said standing beside Brynden among the crowd gathering to watch Sansa train again.

"Her mother would be glad she's alive," said Brynden.

Sansa was laughing with most of her fireguard as Brienne went over things with Theon and Podrick helped Rickon. Lysa's gaze shifted from the wildlings and miscreants around her niece and nephew to Petyr stood beside Robin, who sat on the wooden fence surrounding the yard.

Rickon's eyes flickered and widened as he turned from Podrick and raised his hand. "Arya! Come fight us!"

The crowd separated, making room for Arya. The young woman's smirk fell when she saw Sansa stood in the field with a blunted dagger. She nearly threw herself over the fence, her hands shifting behind her back as she tilted her head.

"You know how to use that?" she asked Sansa.

"I'm learning," Sansa said with a shrug.

"Lady Sansa's more than capable," Brienne said with a proud smile.

Sansa gave her a thankful nod. "I stole a sword and dagger off a Bolton soldier Brienne killed while making my way to the Wall. Before that I only had a dagger she gave me."

Brienne frowned. "Sadly we had need for her to defend herself even with Podrick and I at her side."

Arya's brow arched. "You've killed someone?"

"Only dogs." Sansa shook her head before chuckling. "I threw my dagger at a Bolton soldier once, but the handle hit the back of his helmet. Thankfully it was enough to distract him so Podrick could kill him."

"Thank you again, my lady," Podrick called out, making Sansa roll her eyes.

Arya looked from Brienne to Sansa. "How about a match?"

Sansa tilted her head. "What?"

"Just a quick one. First to land a strike."

Sansa lifted her skirt and smiled. "I'm not really ready for a proper spar."

"Then go put breeches on." Arya saw her sister purse her lips and sighed. "Fine. I won't move my feet. Okay? You can move, and I defend or dodge."

Sansa's eyes narrowed, stepping closer and speaking low enough few could hear. "Are you angry with me?"

Arya met her eyes and seemed to be deciding whether she was. After a moment her face softened. "If you're going to learn I'm going to make sure you can survive a real fight."

Examining Arya's face, Sansa stepped back with a nod. "Okay. One strike, and if I win you have to wear a dress for a week and let me put bows in your hair."

Arya shook her head. "No."

"Fine. Three days in a dress and only four bows." Sansa grinned as Arya glared at her. "Okay, okay. Three suppers in a dress, one of them when Jon is here, and two bows in your hair, once the first time and again when Jon is here."

Arya stared at her for a moment. "And if I win, I spar with Brienne." Arya turned to Brienne. "I'd like to try fighting the person who beat the Hound."

That drew a few murmurs from the crowd while Sansa looked to Brienne. "That's her decision."

Looking between the sisters, Brienne nodded. "I'll accept."

"Then so do I," Sansa nodded. "Remember, no moving your feet."

Arya nodded while Sansa took the training dagger Laul offered her, handing it to Arya before taking a quick step back. The sisters smiled at each other, both having thought Arya could slash at Sansa and technically win.

Rickon, Podrick and all the rest turned and stood back, watching Sansa walk around Arya, assessing her.

"I'm taller than you."

"And in a skirt."

"You're better than me. Faster too."

"You're not stupid."

Sansa paused, remembering all the times Arya had called her that. Then she winced and realized Arya had turned and thrown her dagger at Sansa's shoulder.

"I win," Arya said with a grin.

The crowd laughed as Sansa glared at her sister. "Cheat."

Arya smiled. "Next time wear breeches."

Notes:

No way Arya doesn't win, but I thought it was at least a fun bit at the end. Sansa being in a skirt with a dagger is supposed to imply she's learning how to fight in a skirt in a more practical self defense sense. After all she's been through, from the near rape in King's Landing to her trek to the Wall, I think that would be of more interest to her than fighting in a battlefield, though she's trying a bit of both for now.

Tempted to have Arya make a stupid idiot list to go with her murder list. Dunno how she'd look in trunks and a scarf though.

Would it be too on the nose to have a Vale knight named Griffith?