A Knight's Watch

by DolorousEdditor

Jon Snow is forbidden to take the black by his father. Instead he sent to squire for a famous knight, beginning a long arduous journey that causes him to cross paths which characters he never would have. Along the way he learns truths long hidden and discovers love in the most unlikely of places. All of this in the shadow of the War of Five Kings and the coming of the Others.

26. Chapter 26

SANSA

"I am no longer the queen."

Sansa spoke as calmly as she could, taking extra care so that her voice would not falter. No matter how she felt about losing her crown, she would fight against her weakness. She reminded herself over and over again that Rickon was worth it.

Bran will be worth it too when we find him.

I'd give up ten crowns to know where he was.

To think otherwise was selfish, those thoughts more worthy of the selfish girl she'd once been rather than the woman she wanted to be. Believing she'd grown beyond such helped Sansa get through this moment.

Jon's hand finding hers underneath the table helped some as well, though his soft eyes betrayed his concern.

The others gathered around the table shared similar expressions. This was no normal meeting of her council, for only a select group had been gathered about her. It had seemed appropriate to lose her crown the same way it had been given to her, before an audience of northern lords.

Willem was the only man not of the North in attendance, the grey-cloaked knight standing guard at the door, his expression unusually grim. Joining her at the table was a collection of the most powerful leaders in her kingdom. Maege Mormont and the Greatjon sat side by side while Ser Kyle Condon represented the Cerwyns and Roger Ryswell his absent father. Howland was to her left, Jon her right, while the newest face among them had only arrived the day before last, riding far ahead of the Manderly caravan. Robett Glover was a tall man with a powerful bearing. His face, however, betrayed how much the man had suffered. The redness of his eyes and the dark circles beneath were merely the most obvious signs of his trials.

While the ironmen had been driven out of Deepwood Motte and his wife awaited him alive and well, there was little else for him to be thankful for. Little of his family was left to share these tidings with. His older brother Galbart had died fighting on her behalf at the Twins while Robett's children had been stolen from his home.

Young Gawen and the infant Erena were being kept hostage somewhere in the Iron Islands, their fates uncertain. Sansa's heart went out to him.

For such a loyal family to suffer so much…

I owe this man more than can ever be repaid.

Trying to do justice by Robett would have to wait some time longer, for she had a crown to hand away. Delaying that would make it no less painful to do.

"Your parents and brother would have been so proud of you." Maege spoke first, the woman wiping at her eye. "Your leadership guided us from our lowest point in centuries and to see you step down now, at such a happy time… in this you show true grace. In this you shall always be a queen to me."

"Thank you, my lady." She held back her own tears, thankful the lady knew what to say to make this deed easier.

Sansa wanted to believe herself worthy of such praise. Wyman Manderly seemed to think so as he nodded in agreement.

"I have not been with you as long as the lady but let her words echo what is in my heart." The Lord of White Harbor smiled through his moustache. The lord was looking like a new man lately, his health and strength returning to him more by the day. His appetite had also returned and was becoming a bit of an issue for the rationing.

"Today we name a new King in the North." Wyman continued. "Rickon Stark shall ascend to the throne of his brave brother… and noble sister. Yet we must not forget Bran Stark also survived the Sack of Winterfell. If he is found we shall have a new king yet again."

"When he is found." Jon put in. "The woman who led Rickon to safety believes Bran fled north. He was protected by Hodor, a stableboy large of body and heart. As well as…"

"My children." Howland nodded, his eyes as sad as Robett's. "The last the spearwife Osha had heard from them, they sought the Lands Beyond the Wall. Where the Others march once again."

There was no breeze in the room yet she felt a chill all the same. Goosebumps rose up all over her skin at the thought of her sweet little brother in a land of monsters.

So was Rickon, she reminded herself, and he came back.

Bran can do the same, I'll pray to the heart tree for it and the old gods will guide his way.

They're the only gods north of the Wall.

"Perhaps we send word to the Night's Watch?" Roger asked, the lordling clearly thankful to be included. "They may have seen some sign of the lord… I mean prince… the king?"

"We've sent word to Castle Black and heard nothing in return." It was Maege's turn to sound worried. "The ravens from the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch-by-the-Sea also report nothing but silence from the fortress. For all my hardheaded brother's faults, being lax in command is not one of them. This does not bode well for the state of things at the Wall."

"Which is why I asked Last Hearth to send a party to Castle Black, to determine what happens there." She explained. "And when the Manderly supplies arrive at Winterfell, a force will march north to reinforce-"

Lord Manderly cleared his throat then.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, princess." He spoke the last word carefully. "But to order the Stark forces to march is a matter for the king to do…"

"The lad is five if a day!" Ser Kyle broke in and both Jon and the Greatjon showed signs of anger.

"That he is." Wyman agreed quickly. "Which means governance of the kingdom should fall to a royal regent until the king is of age."

And so the scramble begins, she thought, this will be a foul matter to deal with.

Already the lords who were the most likely candidates for the role were taking measure of each other. Wyman Manderly met the Greatjon's gaze while Maege looked to Howland. Her eyes went to Jon, whose face was set in a look of barely concealed rage. She wondered if he shared her feelings right now.

Not only must I hand away my kingdom to Rickon, I have to hand its reins to another.

It is not so foul truly. It would spare my brother from the harsh realities of the crown a good time longer and perhaps lift a burden from me.

"A regent… would be wise." She broke the silence, fearful that her silence would be taken as stubbornness. "My brother is far too young to rule yet. He needs wisdom and guidance before he comes into his crown."

"I couldn't agree more." Wyman looked at her smiling, his hand on his flabby chest. "And I believe there could be no wiser or finer guide than the queen who brought the Starks back to Winterfell."

That she had not been prepared for. She fully expected Lord Wyman to put himself forward for the role, the Greatjon being a likely candidate as well. They could both be fine choices, the latter brave and strong, the former powerful and wise. The man she would have chosen though had not been impressed with her choices lately.

Yet he was clearly happy with Lord Wyman's choice for regent.

"I second that." Howland looked to her. "Sansa has shown her worth time and again. If any person should care for King Rickon and the North, I trust her more than any."

Most of the others quickly voiced their agreement to that, Robett and Roger doing so last. The Greatjon himself went even further.

"Making her regent is all well and good…" He raised a large finger and pointed around the table. "You'll all be remembering that she's still a princess through blood. So if any try to take that crown off her head I'll see you off the walls myself."

Roger laughed at the Greatjon's threat, obviously assuming it to be a jest, until he caught the lord's eye and saw no humor there. The large lord had spent weeks travelling from the coast yet appeared no worse off for it. In truth, he'd bragged it had been good to ride across the open lands of the North again.

"I was getting sick and tired of being cooped up in that bloody castle." He'd growled, recounting the goings on at the Dreadfort to them. "I had to spend well over a moon besieging the thing with southron flowers who acted like they'd never seen a few snow flurries before."

No matter his complaints, the lord had been happy to spin the tale of the Siege of the Dreadfort. As the story unfolded, it was clear they could not have sent finer men to lead the encirclement of the Bolton fortress.

For Bronze Yohn Royce and the Greatjon had gone beyond just besieging the castle, they'd actually taken it. The feat was made even more impressive considering they had refrained from storming the castle walls, heeding the warnings of how costly such an attack could be. Yet neither Bronze Yohn nor the Greatjon had been content to starve the Bolton garrison out.

"The lads needed something to do, tasks to keep them warm against the cold and all that." He'd chuckled. "So we set them to making a couple trebuchets."

"Those walls were made too thick to bombard with stone effectively." Ser Kyle had argued but the Greatjon waved him off.

"Aye, that's why we didn't aim at the walls, we aimed over them. We didn't use stone either." The man had started laughing. "The latrines were full of better ammunition."

Sansa had thought that absolutely disgusting yet for all the Boltons had done to her home she'd also found it somewhat fitting. Along with the flinging of filth within the Dreadfort, the two lords had also ordered almost nightly raids against the castle. Men using ropes and grappling hooks in attempts to gain the walls to either open the gates or capture a prisoner.

"That cost us a few score…" The Greatjon lamented. "Still less than the cold though. That merciless killer put hundreds in the ground. At least in the raids, we got a couple prisoners in the end."

Capturing Bolton men allowed them to learn the state of the garrison and their readiness for attack. Their prisoners reported a sizeable force of men within the walls who were growing weaker with sickness. The lack of relief from Roose Bolton had drained their morale as well. All of that had presented an opportunity the two lords could not pass up. The defenders being both weakened and disheartened were key points to a third part of their strategy.

"I told Bronze Yohn myself, I said 'Queen Sansa doesn't want us to launch a direct attack.' And we would not defy you, your grace." The Greatjon had grinned like a green boy beneath his great beard. "Yet you never said anything against trying to take the castle in a different way."

Such was how Ser Mychel Redfort had come into play. Myranda had told her the knight and the late Domeric Bolton had been close, and that it was likely they'd shared more than just youthful memories. That Domeric may have shared some word of his family's castle which could be of use to them.

The Greatjon shared darker memories with them though.

"Those dungeons… I thought I'd seen the worst the realm had to offer at the Twins." The lord had grimaced, draining his wine at the memory. "We should've had a poet among us. That the darkest part of the Bolton castle was their undoing, I can't do such a turn justice."

Sansa wondered after the tale, had Domeric Bolton lived to become lord of his House, would it have ever come to such a fate. The story the lord told had made Domeric seem a better man than his father.

Apparently in his youth, Domeric had witnessed his father's cruelty firsthand and had not shared in his taste for it. A group of smallfolk had risen up against a petty lord who had been abusing his power, taking more of his share of crops and young women. Roose Bolton had known the truth of their grievances yet had crushed the poor people all the same. The surviving women and children, what few there were, had been brought to live out their days in the Dreadfort's dungeons. Making the poor people just disappear so his lands could be quiet and peaceful.

Domeric had shared this tale with Mychel Redfort when he'd fostered at the Redfort. Apparently the lordling believed failing to protect the smallfolk from his father's brand of peace and quiet was his greatest shame. That thought had driven Domeric to do all he could to help the survivors in the dungeons, for the lowest parts of the castle were also the oldest, and had secrets all their own.

The Dreadfort had once survived a siege, centuries past, lasting almost two years. Evidently it had been able to do so because of secret tunnels, caves truly, leading from the dungeons to fields along the Weeping Water, a great distance away from the castle. What the rebellious Boltons of old had used to supply their castle, Domeric had used to free the surviving rebels held in the dungeons.

Few living knew of the secret passages, the Boltons had been sure of that. Yet Domeric's friendship with Mychel Redfort had led to him being one of them. Even with Domeric's tales it took Mychel weeks of searching to find an entrance to one of the caves. With the castle garrison weakened and demoralized, Ser Mychel and the Greatjon had led hundreds through the tunnel to surprise the defenders. While the Dreadfort men had stared out at Bronze Yohn readying his men to storm the walls, the true attack had come from below.

When she'd asked of prisoners the Greatjon had laughed in a dark manner.

"A few, the sick mostly." He'd cracked his knuckles. "Most did not recover."

Sansa hadn't pressed him on that since those were not the prisoners she was truly concerned with. For she had been asking about the captives the Boltons had taken during the Sack of Winterfell.

The fearless lord had actually paled at that.

"Oh, yes. Those poor women. We found some but there weren't many left from Winterfell I'm sad to say. The ones we found in the dungeons… a lesser man may have wept to see them."

The Greatjon did not weep as he shared the names of the survivors. Names she knew well.

Beth Cassel, daughter to Ser Rodrik was such a survivor. As was Bandy, one of Joseth's twins. She remembered both girls from her childhood and thanked the gods they still lived. Her joy was short-lived at how short the list truly was.

Shyra, Bandy's sister, was lost. So was Rodwell's sister Rega. The two Pallas. Turnip. And so many others.

It had been a shock to hear Old Nan amongst the living. The terrors of the Dreadfort had taken so many young and full of life it defied belief the oldest woman Sansa had ever known had somehow survived. Though it made the world seem all the stranger she was glad to hear it all the same.

Bronze Yohn could not stomach keeping the women in the castle where they'd suffered so much. The first ship to come from White Harbor up the Weeping Water had brought supplies and news of their victory at Winterfell. When it departed it took the three women with it, its captain promising to deliver them to the care of House Manderly.

Just as the sea ushered those women away it had driven Rickon and Davos Seaworth towards the shore. A Royce galley had spotted a ruined trade ship drifting just off the coast. It had been a shock to find Lord Seaworth and a wilding of all things defending her brother, his true identity revealed by the emergence of an angry, irate Shaggydog on the decks.

"I'll let the Onion Lord tell his own tale about Skagos." The Greatjon had spoken well of Stannis's hand, high praise indeed. "I wouldn't risk sending him by ship again so Bronze Yohn and I parted ways. Yohn holds the Dreadfort, so I could take the king back to his kin. Imagine my surprise to find myself a feisty Mormont girl coming to tell me to do that very thing."

Hearing the Dreadfort had fallen paled to the joy she felt at having Rickon back. Even now the boy slept in her chambers. She'd managed to get him there without another fit and hadn't dared to leave until he'd dozed off.

Arya and Jeyne cared for him in her stead, allowing Jon and her time for this meeting. It had touched her heart to see Jeyne improving. Clearly the space and time she'd offered her friend had given her time to deal with her demons. She planned on presenting Jeyne with a fine new gown she'd had prepared for when the girl was feeling better.

However, now was time to put in motion other plans she'd been preparing for a long while. Being named regent could only help with such.

"My lords and dear lady." Sansa smiled, touching the crown above her head to remind them it still sat there. "I thank you and humbly accept the regency…"

"Hear hear!" Maege called out laughing, raising a cup. The Greatjon and Ser Kyle did the same, even Robett joined them. She was glad to see the mood had improved. It could only help with what came next.

"Again thank you." She waved away the cheers. "Considering the great victory that Lord Umber and Lord Royce have delivered us, I believe it is time we address the end of House Bolton and what is to become of its lands and holdings."

"A fine topic!" Wyman clapped his hands together greedily, the man obviously eager to discuss the carving up of those rich lands.

"The Hornwood succession has been settled." She continued on. "I know not everyone here is happy with whom I raised to the lordship of Hornwood but I believe it was a decision which honored Lord Halys's memory. I hope it to be the first step to bringing justice back to those lands."

Howland took up the cause as well.

"Even now Lord Larence Hornwood has led a good many of his men out to see to the needs of his people. Every village he visits, he spreads word that the direwolves have returned and Hornwood has a new lord."

"Many might not be so comforted." Wyman raised an eyebrow. "They've suffered once under a bastard lord…"

Sansa shot the fat lord a foul look for even thinking of comparing Larence to Ramsay Snow.

"I only brought up Hornwood to remind us all that the Bolton lands need the same treatment." She said. "Larence is loyal and earnest, well-suited to the task of rebuilding his father's lands. Yet to govern the Dreadfort and its holdings, we are in need of a lord who is more than just loyal and earnest. He must be wise, as well as capable, experienced at command and brave enough to take on such a task."

"I believe I can name several men who are fit for the honor." Lord Manderly looked to the others but she didn't give him the chance to do so.

"I have no need of beliefs my lord, for I know for certainty a man worthy of the task." She turned and offered her choice a wide smile, happy to finally be doing this. Even as she did so his face fell and he gave her a final pleading look. "By royal decree, I hereby name Ser Jon a lord, and raise him up to the title Lord of the Dreadfort and all its lands."

She beamed to honor her love in such a way yet she was quite alone in the sentiment. Only one man offered a cheer at the news, Willem's shout quickly dying away as he realized no others joined in the celebration. Most appeared stunned, Maege and Robett among that group with Ser Kyle's mouth hanging open, speechless. Roger was eyeing Jon with something bordering on contempt while the Greatjon and Wyman stared as well, as if taking measure of him.

Howland's somber expression was oddly similar to Jon's, which annoyed her.

Of course they finally unite to frustrate my plans. I explained to them both why this had to happen.

Now is not the time to sulk, it is the time to show strength.

"Your grace." Wyman shifted in his seat, his weight causing it to creak. "Those lands and peoples will need a firm, experienced hand to bring them back into the fold. While I have heard tales of the ser's great deeds on behalf of the crown…"

"Saving your life being one." Willem said off to the side before grumbling further. "Waddle faster next time…"

"For which I am grateful!" Wyman narrowed his eyes at the knight. "Yet the fact remains, Jon Snow has never ruled over a village let alone a castle as ill-omened as the Dreadfort and lands as vast as the ones you offer. "

"Neither had the Queen ruled over a kingdom until she did so." Howland said firmly. "A task I can say Jon played a key role in."

"No doubt, no doubt, but let us speak plainly." Wyman's tone became somewhat irritated. "Larence Snow may be accepted by the people Hornwood, being kin to Lord Halys helps remove some of the taint of his bastard status, yet Jon Snow has no ties to the Boltons. That his father was the late Lord Eddard, of hallowed memory, may earn him some good favor but little enough, I say."

Roger grunted approval at that and Sansa made note that he'd be seated even further down the table at the next council. Wyman went on earning her ire as well.

"The people from those lands are proud." He shook his head. "Too proud for me to believe they will accept a lord of such questionable breeding. Ser Jon is son to an unknown mother and even your father was too ashamed to admit her identity… for all we know she was a camp follower…"

"That's enough, my lord!" Maege snapped, her face red with anger. "Do not speak to that which you are ignorant of."

Wyman was not hindered though.

"Am I any more ignorant on the matter of his parentage than the others here? Even the knight himself?"

"You are." Jon spoke up then, his eyes closed and hands gripping the table tightly. "Most of you are… and the fault is not your own."

Silence again descended on the table after that.

Howland and Maege exchanged a look. Though Maege had not been told of Jon's new lordship, they'd both been forewarned of what was coming. It had been days in the making, moons if one counted back to the day they'd learned the truth of Jon. Rickon's arrival had spurred things along though and the moment was upon them.

Yet with how troubled Jon looked, she feared he'd falter before it could be done.

He said he was ready. I told him this was his decision, that we could continue as we are in secret.

I wouldn't force him to do this.

Beneath the table it was her turn to seek his hand. When they touched he turned to face her. She smiled and ran her fingers gently over his wrist. His expression remained troubled yet there was some relief there now.

Jon's face almost matched the one he had yesterday when she'd told him her moon blood had come. For half a moment she thought she spotted disappointment that their love had not led to a child. It had been the same for her yet such things could wait. Until they were married and no longer had to live in fear.

Which will come to pass as long as he does what he must.

She willed him to find the strength to do so, her eyes staring deep into his. His expression suddenly became hard, as if his face was carved of ice. He gave a slight nod before looking back up towards the others.

"My lords, lady, and good sers." Jon's voice was gruff. "Most of you know me, either as a boy raised within these walls or as a knight fighting to reclaim them…"

"A true knight." She added but Jon didn't even blink.

"Yet there is a something which has been kept hidden from you." He closed his eyes. "A lie first told by Eddard Stark, which I lived in ignorance of for most of my life. A lie that I have been content to hide behind… until now. I cannot allow this dishonor to continue. Not within these walls."

"I thought better of you lad." The Greatjon tugged at his beard in confusion. "To call Ned Stark a liar in his own castle, that his son could do such a thing…"

"Jon is only speaking the truth my lord… and he has every right to do so." Howland locked eyes with her knight then. "Eddard Stark was my friend, in many ways we were as close as brothers. We shared in joy, hardship, grief… and in the telling of such a lie."

"What's happening here?" Wyman looked about the table to see the others as thoroughly confused.

"The end… the end of me…" Jon said so quietly she doubted most heard him.

Help him, he can't do this alone.

He's doing this for you.

"Jon means it is time to end a lie." She said. "One which has caused him so much hardship and suffering."

"Your grace, if I could?" Maege interrupted, surprising Sansa. "I must play my part in this, as I have already."

Sansa hesitated but she shook it off and after she nodded her assent Maege rose, going to stand behind Jon, surprising Sansa even more by placing her hands upon his shoulders.

"Before the Red Wedding and our king's murder, Galbart Glover and I were sent to Greywater Watch. We carried with us the will of King Robb, a will we soon learned…"

"Aye Maege we all know the tale." The Greatjon drank deeply of his wine and frowned. "It named Ser Jon the heir but he cast it aside for King Robb's trueborn sister. Never a truer man than this knight, by our queen."

Maege nodded.

"You're right on much of it my lord, yet the tale you have been told left many details out." She looked down to Jon and, as if he felt her gaze, he nodded. Maege sighed and continued on. "The will named the last living son of Eddard Stark to the throne… but we came to learn that it was not Jon."

"You learned the other boys lived then?" Robett broke his quiet vigil then.

He turned to Lord Manderly who quickly shook his head. They had both been involved in the plot to save Rickon and oppose the Boltons.

"No, we thought them lost. We learned…"

Maege made to say more but Jon reached up to grasp her hand, before rising himself. The look in his eyes sent a tremble through her. It almost made her want to stop this. To keep him from exposing himself to what was surely coming.

For her to protect him.

Yet seeing Jon standing there, staring down at the most powerful people in the North, she thought that it was as it should be. Jon was a brave man, a good man, and deserved much and more for all this lie had cost him. She could not deny him such a moment.

"They learned the truth of my mother." Jon spoke gravely. "And the truth of my father." With that he raised his gloved hand before him and made a fist, shaking his head. "They learned I was not Eddard Stark's son."

The Greatjon choked on his wine as Ser Kyle jumped in his chair.

"Not his son?"

"What are you then!? Are you-"

"Jon is kin to Eddard Stark and, while it's true he is not trueborn Stark, neither is he a Snow." Howland cut off the questions and Sansa knew the story that would be told.

"There is a tale you must hear…"

JON

"Are you mocking us?" Robett Glover asked. "Surely this is a jest."

Jon shook his head, somehow finding the courage to scan the faces of the lords of the North who now knew him for what he was.

And who I am is definitely not funny.

"It is the truth." Howland said, his voice hoarse from the long tale. "One Lyanna took to her grave, entrusting Ned and I to safeguard it. As we protected-"

"A jest… surely…" Robett repeated, shaking his head in disbelief.

Roger Ryswell and Ser Kyle were little better. The Greatjon was staring at Howland fiercely, his hands curled in fists. Lord Manderly tugged at his collar, as if it was suddenly too tight before clearing his throat.

"You're telling us that Lord Stark raised Lyanna's son." Wyman pulled at his moustache. "That she married in secret and bore the son of… I'm looking right at you ser but I see little resemblance to…

"Rhaegar Targaryen." Jon spoke up, meeting all their stares. "Yes. He was my father."

"He was a murderer and a rapist." The Greatjon growled, glaring at Howland before he turned to Jon with a somewhat softer look. "You've been misled lad. I see Ned Stark clearly in you, I always have."

"You see the Stark bloodline, my lord." Sansa put in before grabbing a lock of her hair and holding it up to the light. "With my Tully features do you doubt Eddard Stark was my father? Just like Robb and I take after our mother, Jon takes after his."

In looks perhaps, he thought, I have little else in common with Lyanna Stark.

And less with Rhaegar Targaryen.

Howland, apparently, disagreed.

"For those of you who ever glimpsed Rhaegar Targaryen try and picture him now. Look beyond his Valyrian features, beyond the indigo eyes and silver hair, and describe him to us."

The others answered in piecemeal, remembering the prince from chance encounters and his appearances at tourneys. They all agreed him a tall, lean bodied man, strong looking yet with more speed than muscle. Maege even went so far as to call the man handsome.

"As is his son." Sansa smiled at him. "Look at Jon and tell me you do not see what we see."

The Greatjon scowled while Lord Manderly actually appeared to be giving him a once over. Jon caught Willem's eye then and saw his friend with an expression that bordered on betrayal.

"I saw Prince Rhaegar in battle. Twice in truth… once at a tourney…" Willem spoke quietly, stepping towards Jon. "I never thought about it, I mean why would I? But it was staring me in the bloody face."

The short knight exhaled then, turning away and raising his hand in mock defeat.

"I see it clear as day now." Willem said with a slightly cruel, mocking tone so unlike his usually playful one. "Jon fights just like the prince, he fights like his father… a bloody dragon all along…"

I'm sorry my friend, forgive me.

This was not something I could burden you with.

Those were the words he wanted to say, for they had fought together, bled together and suffered through much at each other's side. Jon would abandon a lie today and he hoped his friend would not abandon him in turn. As much as that worried him, the others were a more dire concern. The group before him still looked unconvinced and none of them could leave this room while still holding that doubt. It was not an option.

"Don't tell me you actually believe this!" Roger Ryswell asked incredulously. "A secret prince? Hidden by Eddard Stark? It's madness!"

The Greatjon slammed a fist upon the table, spilling several goblets.

"It makes no bloody sense! Ned would never lie for the sake of his enemies! Nor commit treason! He was devoted to King Robert!"

"He loved his sister more." Howland countered, risking the Greatjon's wrath once again. "We all know that."

"And my father would lie to spare the ones he loved." Sansa spoke softly, wringing her hands. "He did so to save me. In King's Landing father admitted to treason he was innocent of, to spare my life… and he died for it…"

He wanted to comfort her through that harsh memory but before he could Howland reached out and touched her arm.

"Sansa speaks the truth." Howland continued. "For what Ned did in the capital to protect his daughter, I witnessed him do at the Tower of Joy to protect his beloved sister's child, his nephew."

"I'd have none suffer for my sake." Jon said firmly, he was getting sick of being spoken about like he wasn't there. "I am knight, sworn to protect House Stark, and I cannot abide the Starks protecting me any longer."

Lord Manderly grunted at that.

"Ser, I fear you do not fully comprehend the risk of what you say. This tale you've been fed, with only Lord Reed's words to back it you will face many great hardships. Most will not believe such a thing."

"Most with sense." Roger agreed.

"Lord Wyman, how many lies did you tell to secure the release of your son?" Sansa snapped before turning on the Ryswell man. "How many of my men did your family kill at the Reaping, fighting for Ramsay Snow?"

Both men made to respond, Wyman speaking with abashment while Roger was sputtering something about oaths, when Sansa pointed at Howland.

"By my estimate, there would be no Kingdom of the North without this man! He has done more for me and House Stark than either of you could ever…"

"They are right, your grace." Howland interrupted rising to his feet. "For my word alone will never be enough."

With that he nodded to Maege who made to gain her feet before pausing and looking to Jon. He knew why she hesitated, and he felt much the same. Yet Ned Stark's words came back to him then.

'The world is not about what we want. It is about what we must do.'

With that voice booming in his head he nodded. Maege quickly rose from her chair and sought a chest at the far end of the room. The sight of the dusty sack she drew from within it brought his mind back down into the crypts. In truth, the whole time Howland had told the story of Rhaegar and Lyanna he'd been thinking of the crypts.

Sansa and he had still been basking in the glow of their betrothal when Howland had pulled them back to reality.

"If you two are set on this, I will not stand in your way." Howland had said from the shadows of his mother's statue. "I tell you my dreams and warn you as best I can. In the end though, it is for each man to make his own fate, no matter how grave it may be."

Sansa had left his side to take Howland's hand in hers.

"Howland, you feared the worst when I acted as bait for Ramsay Snow." She said softly. "And yet we won a great victory. I have to believe your dreams are not set in stone. That there is always hope. So I ask you to set aside your doubts and put your faith in us instead."

Howland had smiled sadly, pulling Sansa's hand up to his lips.

"You may not have acted as I wished, or even as I thought was wise but such is the curse of being young. My own children would often act rashly and against good judgement. I loved them still." The lord looked at him over Sansa's shoulder, showing no sign of his earlier rage. "I have hope for them… as I do for you. If Jon wishes the truth to be known, I will speak to it. And I will stand by him, as Lyanna and Ned would have done. To spare you both the worst of what the world brings."

We have already endured too much of that.

The thought had caused Jon to clench his scarred hand.

"I am... glad to hear that." He said, nodding at the lord. "What I said regarding your children was uncalled for and I apologize for it. Yet I cannot allow you to pull the strings of my life any longer my lord. There can be no more secrets between us… between all three of us."

Sansa had looked abashed to be included in that statement. It was only fair to do so, for she had failed in sharing Howland's warnings with him. His own failings far outweighed hers though so he was inclined to do his best to forgive them.

As he tried to do with Howland.

"Half-truths, secrets, lies, it leads to nothing but conflict and there's enough of that in the North already. No more of it my lord. I will leave our fight to rest in this place of the dead."

Howland nodded, touching his hand to his chest.

"No more lies between us Jon, it is easily done." Howland had gazed upwards at the earthen ceiling. "Yet there are some secrets we three must keep to ourselves. A lowly bog lord knowing Sansa and you are betrothed is harmless enough. A northern lord or a prickly king learning such is far more perilous."

He'd gestured further down the crypts towards where his uncle and Robb lay at rest.

"Even your own kin may not understand."

Arya. My sister.

I can barely understand that part of this.

In his mind he knew the truth. By blood Arya was his cousin just as much as Sansa was. Yet his heart named her his sister, just as it named Robb and Bran his brothers. As it still yearned to call Eddard Stark father. His uncle's betrayal made that easier. He loved the man, he understood the reasons why he'd done what he had, yet the anger was still there.

He had no such anger to hold against Arya. In truth, the girl made Winterfell feel like home to him more than anyone. Her strength and willfulness was a sign that the war hadn't crushed her spirit. Just as Sansa had risen to what was needed of her, Arya's perseverance in spite of everything thrown against her inspired him.

She's my sister, she could never be anything less than that to me.

Yet to the world, they would have to be cousins for him to finally escape the cycle of lying. Sansa and his betrothal could not be made public until his true heritage was known and accepted by many. When and how to do so was a matter of some debate between the three. Howland suggested waiting until Bran and Rickon were found, to allow such a joyful occasion to overtake whatever harsh feelings their announcement could bring forth. Sansa wished to wait until Stannis departed, fearing how the king would take the news.

Jon had decided a different course.

"I will give Stannis the courtesy he is due. Eddard Stark lied to Robert Baratheon on my behalf so I will tell the truth to Stannis on my uncle's behalf." His words had caused them both to argue but his mind was set. "I'd prefer to wait for the boys but let us be honest, the odds of that happening before Stannis's march are slim."

Sansa had remained troubled yet Howland had accepted his decision well enough. The lord even reminded Sansa that it was for Jon to choose the manner of how the truth became known, not them. Yet something about what Howland had said earlier worried him.

"What if Howland is right about people not believing him? If people don't trust his word, they'd think me a pretender, and few are despised as much as false men."

Except maybe the kin of mad kings and reckless princes.

"In time we will make them understand." Sansa said firmly. "With your help Howland. You convinced Maege and Galbart with only the power of your words. I have faith you can do so again."

"I, alas, do not." The lord looked back to the statue of Lyanna again before kneeling down at its base. "Maege and Galbart were inclined to trust me. I housed them in the safety of Greywater Watch and pledged myself to restoring the Starks. Few enough hold me to such a high regard. In truth, most northmen think little of crannogmen."

Jon knew that to be the truth. The Starks respected the people of the Neck, most likely because of Eddard Stark's friendship with Howland Reed, yet it had been rare to hear other northern lords speak well of them. Soon after, Howland had begun running his hand softly down the smooth wide block at the bottom of his mother's stone likeness.

"For what you would have them believe, you will need more than just my word."

"Lady Maege's as well then." Sansa had offered, furtive in her glances between the two. "Surely that will be enough. It has to be."

"It won't." Howland answered, looking back at him from where he knelt. "Are you ready to name Lyanna Stark your mother?"

To me she is but a statue.

"Yes, if I must."

"Had you known her, I believe you would find more pride in saying so. Much of the strength I saw in her I see in you Jon." Howland stood up slowly, looking back up at Lyanna's stone face, his hands forming fists. "Are you ready to name Rhaegar Targaryen as your father?"

I can name Rhaegar Targaryen many things.

Kidnapper. Raper. Murderer.

Most of Jon's life he'd been led to think Rhaegar Targaryen had earned each of those titles. Everything about the prince made Jon struggle not to disdain him. His father had acted selfishly and dishonorably in taking a bride despite already being wed. A bride who was already promised to another.

And instead of standing and facing the consequences he'd fled and started a war in the process.

I thought to run once, he remembered, Robar and Brienne had shown me the error of that.

No matter who fathered me it will be the Stark path I follow, one of honor.

Not blood and fire.

"Jon, can you name Rhaegar as your father?" Howland asked again.

"I can and will." He looked to Sansa. "I will do what must be done."

Sansa had smiled to hear the words yet it faltered quickly. For Howland had drawn his sword in flash, raising it before him.

"No!" He yelled, throwing Sansa back and reaching for his own blade.

He could not have expected Howland to betray them and he'd been almost too startled to act. Yet Howland did not betray them as Jon feared. Instead the lord spun back towards Lyanna's statue, turning his sword to point downwards before raising it high with both hands.

"Forgive me, my friend."

The crannogman then drove the blade into the base of the statue. Jon was shocked to see the blade sink within the stone, not being able to comprehend the strength it would take to do so.

"Jon, help me. You must help in this." Howland said then as he began pulling backward on his sword, as if using it as a lever. "This is not for me to do alone."

As confused as he was Jon went forward and saw that Howland had not pierced the stone in truth. The strike had merely driven the blade through a thin opening in the stone, one he'd never noticed through all the dust.

Howland used his sword to pry at it, pulling with all his might and their eyes met.

"I don't do this for myself." He wheezed. "This is your truth to embrace or hide away as Ned did…"

The man's eyes and tone drove Jon to join his efforts. Together they pulled, ruining Howland's sword in the process yet the lord appeared to care little. With one great heave the front of the statue gave way and he stumbled backwards. Sansa was there to catch him and together they coughed as the dust filled the already dank air. It rose like a cloud about Lyanna's statue, so thick it looked like smoke. Howland was crouched within it, his head lowered as he searched the dark opening.

When he rose out of the dust he had a filthy sack in his arms.

"Howland… what have you done?" Sansa asked, obviously horrified at the prospect of the lord grave robbing. "This is unseemly."

"I would not argue." Howland had grimaced. "Yet it had to be done."

As Maege approached the head of the table with that same sack in her hands, his body tensed with what was to come. Howland accepted the bag from the lady, moving to untie a string binding it closed. The lord stopped short of opening it though, instead looking to him.

"Jon… as I said before, this is not for me to do." Howland said.

"It falls to me." He nodded "As it should."

He stood again before the table full of confused people. Sansa watched along with the rest, her face almost eager. For she had already glimpsed what hid within the ugliness in Howland's arms.

When he reached within Howland and his eyes met.

"You are your own man." The lord whispered. "As your father wanted you to be."

Jon wasn't sure which father Howland referred to. The one who'd hidden this away?

Or the one who'd owned it.

Did Ned Stark expect me to reveal it one day?

Did Rhaegar hope I would make it my own?

All those questions had to wait, first he had to prove to the others the truth of all this.

"You want more than our word." Jon looked at the others. "Then have my father's proof."

With that he took hold of the foul sack with one hand pulling it away from what he clutched in the other hand. What he held before him was anything but foul.

For Jon held a harp so grand it could only have belonged to a prince. The craftsmanship on it was intricate, fine beyond his meager words. The harp's neck had been worked into the shape of a dragon, the beast's three heads adorning the crown. The rest of the harp was garlanded in silver scales, which glimmered in the light of the torches.

He'd never seen a high harp that could match this one in beauty. That such a thing had been hidden away in the crypts all these years made him wonder what other secrets the Starks of old held.

Everyone else only cared for what Jon held now.

"That's his harp isn't it?" Roger's eyes bulged as he gripped the table. "The one he played at Harrenhal, the one from the stories."

"It is." Howland nodded. "This is the harp of Rhaegar Targaryen. His prized possession, gifted to his Queen of Love and Beauty and their unborn child. The prince carried this with him everywhere, yet he left it with Lyanna when he marched to war. A symbol of the love he bore her and his promise to return to her side once the war was over."

The lord put a hand on Jon's shoulder then.

"It was a promise he could not keep. Yet Lyanna wished her son to know his father loved him. So as she passed from this world she entrusted Ned not only with Jon's safe-keeping but his father's harp as well so that he could one day know the truth of who he was."

Maege put her hand on his other shoulder, squeezing it in support.

"And before any of you begin to think of Ned and Howland merely stealing this thing, think on this. If they wanted the harp so badly why hide it in such a way? Surely Robert Baratheon would not have begrudged Ned such a prize." Maege's eyes narrowed then. "And I challenge any here to name Eddard Stark a man to loot or pillage from the dead."

Silence followed.

Lord Manderly appeared to be deep in thought while Robett and Ser Kyle stared at Jon in bewilderment. Willem was rubbing his chin and avoided Jon's eyes when they met. The Greatjon stared as well but his gaze was hard, almost threatening.

"Why are you telling us this now?" Lord Manderly finally asked. "Do you mean to proclaim Jon as a legitimate heir to the throne? To challenge Stannis with a…"

"No!" Sansa had slapped her hands on the table. "We spoke the truth to Stannis! He is the only claimant we view as legitimate to the south and Jon has no interest in it."

"I do not seek a throne, that I swear." He added

"The oath of a dragon…" The Greatjon growled and drained the last of his cup, slamming it upon the table so hard that Sansa jumped.

"Jon, the boy acts as much like his father as I do a southron lady." Maege's words were almost lost to the noise of the Greatjon's chair dragging as he rose, towering over the rest of them.

"I lost kin and friends, good men, fighting against the mad king. Dead at the hands of an army commanded by the prince, this boy's... father…"

"None of which is Jon's fault." Howland argued. "To blame him for…"

Howland did not get to finish for the Greatjon charged forward and struck the lord so soundly he practically flew through the air.

"You! You fucking bog shit!" The man raged as he pressed his attack on the ailing lord.

"My lord, stop!" Sansa cried out as Ser Kyle and Willem rushed to get control over the Greatjon.

While Jon and Maege ushered Sansa back, the Greatjon answered Ser Kyle's attempts to grab him by striking the knight squarely in the face. Ser Kyle was sent sprawling backwards onto the floor and appeared to be out cold.

"I'll fucking kill him!" The lord roared, cracking Howland's face with yet another blow, the crannogman falling to one knee. "Made fools of us all!"

"Leave off!" Willem shouted, jumping upon the Greatjon's back, trying to choke the man into submission.

Jon rushed forward to help his friend. He couldn't allow these men to fall upon each other on account of him. The Greatjon was content to throw men upon him though. The lord reached back and lifted the knight off his back as if he was but a child, throwing him bodily into Jon. Willem's weight hit him hard but the fall to the stone floor was even harder. Willem rose much quicker than him, which was a mistake. The Greatjon brought the chair down upon his friend using only one hand. The wood splintered as it broke about Willem's shoulder, the man becoming entangled in the debris. Robett faired little better in his attack. The backhand he was dealt by the Greatjon sent him falling back against the wall, barely throwing his hands up in time to spare his face.

"Where the seven hells are the guards?" Lord Manderly cursed from his place beside Roger, the two men doing their best to avoid the fracas.

Far from here, Jon lamented, we wanted no eager ears at the doorways.

The ones we invited to hear the truth are taking it foul enough already.

"Filthy lying bastard!" The Greatjon roared, pummelling Howland again. "Tell me another tale! Try it without teeth!"

The Greatjon's rampage continued as Howland climbed to his feet. The lord threw Howland across the room like a rag doll, stomping after him. Jon moved even quicker. Throwing himself between the two lords.

I can do no less, he thought, for this is because of me.

All because of what I am.

"No more!" He shouted, throwing a punch up into the Greatjon's mouth.

The man stopped then, reaching up to touch his mouth, his hand pulling back to show blood at his fingertips. The punch sent Jon reeling back against the wall.

"You would dare!" His attacker roared, wrapping his hands around Jon's tunic and pinning him against the wall. He was dragged up the wall until his eyes met the Greatjon's, which looked almost drunk in their fury.

"Stop! Please!" Sansa screamed from her place behind Maege, the lady doing her best to shelter Sansa from the chaos.

"You'd spill my blood?" The Greatjon rasped, his teeth bared in a snarl. "Like your father spilled my kin's?"

"I'd spare others suffering for me." He choked back. "As my uncle taught me to."

Something flashed across the lord's face then, for the briefest of moments his rage abated.

Yet it soon returned and when it did he suffered for it. Jon was jerked roughly forward and slammed back against the wall again, the back of his head bouncing off the stone with a crack.

"Did he teach you how many Umbers died in the war?" The Greatjon asked. "What of blood debts? For my cousins, nephews, brothers, all who met their end at Rhaegar's hands, you should meet the same at mine!"

"Go ahead." Jon rasped, reaching up to grab at the lord's wrists. "Finish what the Freys started."

Again the rage died away, a bit longer this time. The cloud of rage blanketing the Greatjon eyes lifted some, some of the noble lord he knew breaking through. He held his gloved hand up then, forcing the man to look upon it.

"You know what's beneath this, for you were the beneath the Twins as well." Jon grimaced to drift back to that time. "You suffered in those dungeons… longer than I… but for the same reason. We serve the Starks…"

"Your family kills Starks." The Greatjon tightened his hold.

"And if I could throw away the taint of that bloodline, I would. My lord… you must know… all I wanted- all I've ever wanted, was to be a Stark."

As he spoke Jon saw that Willem and Robett had regained their feet, the two men making to restrain the lord. Jon raised his hand to stop them though.

I won't risk anymore people hurt because of me.

Not even the Greatjon.

"That does not change what you are." The Greatjon spoke harshly, yet the man's face was no longer as red as it was. "You are your father's son."

"No… I am my own man." He shook his head. "Ned Stark did all he could to give me that chance… I have to believe in that. That he believed I could be more than what my blood makes me…"

"A prince? A king? Another dragon to lord over me and mine?"

"No, to be a knight and as good a man as I can be. I never thought there could be a burden worse than the name Snow but Targaryen seems to be it. I have no wish to be a king, for I serve one already. Rickon Stark, my cousin by blood, the King in the North. The crown we both fight for…"

The Greatjon shook his head, his brow furrowed in thought.

"You expect me to believe that? To trust in a liar? In dragonspawn?"

"The boy I was, the one who sought to hide from the truth, he came to this table today and died upon the truth leaving my lips. The man at your mercy now could no longer live a lie. He would accept his fate… and your judgment."

His hands finally grabbed at the lord's own, slowly pulling himself free of his grasp. The Greatjon had allowed him to do so. Jon was not fool enough to think otherwise. The lord still towered over him, his fists at the ready. Jon looked to Sansa, who was still clutching at Maege in fear. He sighed then before regarding the Greatjon again.

"I learned honor from Eddard Stark. A man who brought shame upon himself rather than break a vow to my mother. A mother I never knew but you did, as you knew my uncle, please tell me if you see none of them in me."

The Greatjon continued to glare at him, his hand upon his own belt where a dagger was strapped.

"I beg it of you my lord, for the sake of the Starks, if you see more of Rhaegar Targaryen in me then speak to it. I fear it myself constantly…"

"Look at him, Umber." Maege broke in. "When the knight learned his heritage he had two crowns before him. He scorned both and chose to remain a bastard. All to serve House Stark and Sansa."

"We scaled the walls of this castle, fought to see the Starks returned to it, side by side." Willem spoke up as well. "Many men are handed knighthood on a silver platter, others work for it but few truly earn the title as he has. He's a rare breed and as much as I'd like to beat him bloody for some of what we learned here today…" His friend inclined his head in respect then. "I trust him with my life and I'll save the beating for tomorrow."

A groan erupted from Howland as he staggered to his feet, the man's face a bruised, and bloody mess.

"No matter what punishment I have earned, do not hold it against the boy, my lord." Howland slurred. "Do not let Ned and I fail in that. Nor Lyanna… not her…"

"Shut up." The Greatjon grunted. "All of you shut up."

The man narrowed his eyes at Jon's hand, his own still thumbing at the sheathed dagger. Time passed, how much he couldn't say but slowly, deliberately, the Greatjon let his hand fall away.

"Fucking hells." The lord swore and strode back towards the table.

Jon jerked in fear at the man nearing Sansa, Robett and Willem joining Maege in forming a cordon about her. Yet it was not Sansa the lord sought. The Greatjon grabbed at a pitcher of wine upon the table, pouring himself a full cup and draining it just as quickly. When he lowered it from his lips he filled it a second time as well.

"I knew Lyanna Stark." The Greatjon spoke with his back to him. "She was a good woman. Beautiful, strong, and true, braver than most men and one of the few women with the sense to resist my charms."

Willem coughed awkwardly at that. The Greatjon ignored it as he turned to walk back to Jon, a cup of wine in each hand.

"She was a rare woman." He said as he shoved a cup into Jon's grasp. "Her son is a rare man."

He was stunned at the turn of events. He'd expected the worst truly, that the lord would confirm his fears and see more of his father than the Starks in him. The Greatjon grunted, bidding Jon to raise his cup to join his in a toast.

"I've never drunk with a dragon before… never wanted to actually." He shrugged. "There's been enough fighting for today, not nearly enough drinking though."

Sansa clapped her hands together, her face full of joy as she nodded enthusiastically. Lord Manderly inclined his head as well while Willem waved his hands, as if to urge him on. He'd scorned drink for moons now yet he was not about to turn down the lord's gesture.

"Today we drink together, tomorrow we fight together, side by side against the enemies of House Stark." He clinked his cup against the Greatjon's as he glanced at Howland who leaned against the wall. "To the good men who fight those battles."

The Greatjon was eager to see the drinking done right. If he'd thought to only sip at the wine, the Greatjon thwarted that notion, reaching out to tip his cup higher and higher until both had been drained.

As warm as the gesture was, Jon couldn't help but take stock of the room around him. Robett was helping Ser Kyle to his feet while Willem tended to Howland, offering the lord a shoulder to throw his arm around. Roger Ryswell still eyed him strangely and the room about them was a mess, with blood splatters and bits of broken furniture here and there.

That the truth had wrought such havoc among a small group of good men bothered Jon terribly. It made him fear what could happen when they shared the truth with others.

Is this my birthright? To bring such chaos?

Am I my father's son?

ARYA

"What do you mean? He takes after our mother."

Almost as soon as the words were out Arya covered her mouth. In her surprise at Jeyne's statement she'd forgotten to whisper. Jeyne shot a worried glance from Arya to where Rickon slept quietly in Sansa's bed. The little boy stirred some, scrunching his face up and making Arya panic.

Gods if he wakes now what am I supposed to do?

I don't even know if he remembers me. What if he gets upset again?

She held her breath as Rickon began to move, fearful that his eyes would open and the peace his slumber had brought would be broken. Jeyne held her kitten to her chest, as if protecting it. Yet her brother merely rolled onto his side, rubbing his face into the fur blanket there.

Both of them let out a breath of relief.

In truth, Arya was surprised at how peacefully her little brother slept. There was little sign of the fury he'd displayed outside Winterfell showing on his face now. Rather than being red-faced and scared, Rickon was mostly quiet and still. Every now and then he would give a little kick or make a strange noise, like a growl or a yip but he was otherwise peaceful.

This time when she made to speak she leaned forward from her place by the window, remembering to whisper.

"Rickon looks like mother, not father."

"I wasn't talking about his hair or his eyes." Jeyne replied. The girl always spoke quietly now so this arrangement was no real burden on her. "Just from what you said before, about how he was acting… it reminded me of you is all."

She crossed her arms and glared at the young woman.

I don't act like a scared little boy, she thought, and I would never confuse Sansa for mother.

That Sansa had not told Rickon the truth as she carried him to her rooms bothered Arya for some reason. She could understand letting their brother think so to get him in the castle, but letting him continue to believe mother was alive was a cruel thing. Arya could only imagine how it would feel to fall asleep believing their mother was alive and holding her, only to wake up and find someone else in her place. Jeyne saw her foul expression and appeared confused.

"Little Rickon was so much like you, even when he was but a babe." Jeyne offered her a small grin as she stroked her kitten's neck. "He was always so willful, so fierce when wroth. He never let Sansa and me hold him for very long. Just like you wouldn't let us play court with you…"

"That wasn't–" She caught herself, lowering her voice quickly. "That wasn't playing for me. You two would pretend you were queens and princesses and I was the servant. It was just another way for you to boss me around and call me Horseface."

Jeyne appeared surprised and hurt at that, but Arya wouldn't take what she said back this time because it was the truth.

It's not like the way they treated me was a big secret or anything.

"I never thought of it like that… I mean it was so fun for us." Jeyne looked down to her kitten, which nuzzled itself against her plain gown. "It was nice to pretend to be a princess, to dream of being someone beautiful… and happy…"

Arya worried she'd upset Jeyne again. She'd been surprised when the young woman had shown up to see Rickon for herself. If the harsh memories she'd had in the yard bothered her still, Jeyne hadn't shown it. Although Arya saw that she would still hide her nose behind her hand when she saw Sansa walking by.

"I'm sorry for that Arya." Jeyne said. "I don't know why you're so kind to me after everything I said about you. Or did to you."

She shrugged and jerked her thumb towards the window.

"I can't go a day without calling Gendry a sore arse, or Pod a halfwit, and they always forgive me. It's not so hard to get over you calling me Horseface." Arya smiled and even started to giggle a little. "You should have heard what I used to say about you…"

Jeyne offered a small laugh in return.

"Well you were probably right to do so. Just know that I'm sorry and I was wrong." The young lady gazed at Arya's face then. "You're pretty Arya. I think maybe you'll be beautiful when you're a woman. I was wrong about which of us would be a princess."

She snorted, shaking her head.

I act as much like a princess as Rickon looks like a king.

Her brother had fallen asleep in Sansa's arms before anyone could think to bathe him. He was filthy and, as much as Lady Myranda mocked the state of her own hair, Rickon's head was a wild tangle which fell far too low for a boy. Then there was what Rickon was wearing. He'd allowed Sansa to strip him down and place a new nightshirt over his small form yet he'd cried out when she tried to take his necklace. Even now his little hand clutched at the ugly string of bones hanging about his neck.

She saw a small rodent-like skull and numerous other bones from different sized animals. One large bone caught her eye more than the others. It almost looked like a horn. With his wild hair and the necklace, Rickon looked more like a wildling child she imagined in Old Nan's stories than the little brother she'd known.

You barely knew him at all then.

It was a sad thing to admit but it was the truth. Rickon had been little more than a babe when she left the castle. Always clutching at mother's skirts and too little to take part in the games Arya and Bran would play. All of that was why she was scared for him. She feared he was too little to remember them, let alone remember that Winterfell was their home.

They'd all fought so hard to return to Winterfell while Rickon had fought against it. Where Arya and the others had smiled and cried and hugged when riding back through the gates, Rickon had trembled and hid within Sansa's cloak.

And now he's our king. This little boy has to lead us.

The only reason Jon and Sansa weren't here now was because her sister had to go meet their lords to give away her crown. Sansa not being able lord over her anymore was the only benefit Arya could see in that. Despite all their problems, Sansa and Jon had been able to return their family to Winterfell. When Sansa made speeches or talked to lords it looked like she knew what she was doing and the men respected her.

The thought of Rickon having to face Stannis or fight the Lannisters scared her.

He can't even tell Sansa and mother apart.

Sansa might share their mother's good looks and auburn hair but her sister could never replace their mother. Rickon needed to see that. He needed to face the truth of what they lost but he also needed to know that he still had a family that would take care of him.

If he needs to be strong I'll be there with him.

And Jon will be there for us.

We're a pack now.

She looked out the window, her eyes roaming over the darkened courtyard, trying to make out the heart tree's red leaves. That was where Jon and the wildling woman Osha had led the direwolves while Sansa and Arya tended to Rickon. Shaggydog had not been happy to be parted from Rickon yet Osha had somehow been able to usher the wolf out of the courtyard towards the godswood.

The woman had come with Jon afterwards, apparently to check in on Rickon's care.

As if we wouldn't know how to care for our own brother.

"I see the little lord had no problem jumping back into the soft beds of a castle again." Osha had smiled to see Rickon sleeping in Sansa's arms. "Rare enough thing for him to sleep so easily without the beast or I to help him."

"I thank you." Sansa had whispered up to the wilding. "For all you've done… for seeing my brother to safety…"

"Don't be thanking me for what I didn't do." Osha's face had taken on a fearful look. "If Skagos was safe for us, do you think I would've let Seaworth bring us back here? I led the boy to a danger far greater than the one he fled from."

Jon and Arya had glanced to each other, both concerned over the woman's words. They'd both heard the same tales of Skagos from Old Nan. Of wild, hard men who ate the flesh of their enemies.

"Do the Skagosi wish to rise up against the North again?" Jon asked. "Did they threaten Rickon?"

"Those lot? More kin to the free folk than you southron I think, I could handle them." Osha tapped at a dagger at her side. "You sound much like the dead maester, may he rest with the gods. He thought matters were plain and simple. He worried so much about the threat other men posed and not nearly enough about the true danger…"

"Enough." Sansa had hissed, hugging Rickon close to her. "This can all wait."

Osha had not argued against that, and Marlen had come within to escort her to chambers where she could rest after her long journey. While the wildling got her own chambers within the keep, Rickon's other protector was kept as far from the castle folk as possible. Jon had thought it best if Shaggydog was not allowed free reign over the castle and Sansa had posted guards at the godswood's entrances. Arya knew that few of the guards could stand against Shaggydog and that it was really Ghost and Nymeria who kept their brother penned within.

It was more than knowing, it was something she felt.

She could almost smell the cold in the air and the old trees all around her. Just as Arya watched over Rickon she felt like she watched over another. Her returned brother was nervous being within these walls again, yet she could feel his curiosity at all the familiar smells it yielded. For the briefest of moments she'd even seen the white and black brothers standing before the bone tree. The rustle of its blood leaves reaching her ears.

There was something strange about the sound. Like there was more than wind there. Like someone was speaking a name.

"Arya." Jeyne's voice pulled her back, the wolf slipping away from her. "Arya did you hear me?"

"What?" She hissed, reaching up to touch her head, for it suddenly ached some.

"I was just asking about Lady Brienne." Jeyne gently laid her kitten upon the floor, allowing it to take off running about the room. "How was she… I mean, where did the marks…"

"Her scars?" Arya finished for her and Jeyne nodded. "She got them in a fight with a group of monsters called the Bloody Mummers. They were set on attacking an inn full of children so Brienne fought them all on her own."

Her brother offered a small growl then yet showed no sign of waking.

"They hurt Brienne badly… Biter did that to her face." She pushed away the memory of Biter's bloody mouth. "Until Gendry did for him. Pod and I helped fight too."

"You helped? Was it only the four of you?"

"Some outlaws came later… and Hyle was there too."

"Hyle? Have I met him yet?"

"You won't. He's dead."

Whatever Jeyne's reaction was she didn't see it, for Rickon growled again, kicking at his blankets so much that they bunched up around his feet. He was still tossing some as she walked forward to pull the covers back up and over his small form. The foul memories of Hyle's betrayal came back to her. The expression on his face when he realized she'd killed him stood out the most.

Did he see my darkheart then?

Rickon made a whining sound then and, using the hand that had once been sticky with Hyle's blood, Arya gently ran her fingers through her brother's hair like mother did for her a thousand years ago. His movements stilled then and he seemed to calm down. However much it calmed him it helped Arya some too.

"Lady Brienne is the heir to Tarth." Jeyne sounded confused. "Many would want to marry her for that title, even with her scars yet she acts a warrior anyways."

"There's no acting about it, she is a warrior." She said. "And Brienne doesn't want a husband all that badly."

"Others would think foully of her for not wanting to marry… for being ruined…"

"Brienne's not ruined." She looked back to see Jeyne pulling at her hair, her eyes far away. "Being scarred doesn't make her ruined. Jon and Podrick are scarred too. They're still the best people I know. Being marked up doesn't change what someone is on the inside."

"That's not what they told me in King's Landing… the ones the Queen gave me to. After the lash, they said I was ruined goods, that I was only what others could use me for." The young woman winced. "They didn't care who I was inside… they just wanted to make me…"

"Bugger them then." Arya said firmly. "Everyone calls Cersei Lannister beautiful and she is a rotten inside. People treat Lyn Corbray well and call Jon, Ser Snow. Let fools think what they want, we know the truth. You're worth a lot. You're a part of House Stark. And we take care of our own."

Arya glanced down at the savage looking little boy. Anybody looking at the two of them together would be hard pressed to know they were brother and sister.

They can't see what's inside though.

A feeling welled in her then, something akin to shame for having judged her little brother's appearance. As if he wasn't her flesh and blood, like he was somehow to blame for his confusion. With that she bent down and kissed Rickon's forehead.

My heart names him my brother. Not some savage. Only a scared little boy.

One who needs a family to care for him, a sister to protect him.

Not a darkheart.

Jeyne had gone silent in thought after that, ignoring her kitten, which was doing its best to climb up one of the tapestries by the window. Arya sighed and went to collect the little beast whose name she still didn't know. As she did so she glanced out the window again and took in the scene below the keep. It was normal enough outside, a few dark shapes of men moving about here and there. That was when she spotted an unusually large shadow crossing the courtyard towards the kitchens. Considering they kept no elephants in the castle she decided it was Lord Manderly she was seeing. He'd been one of the lords Jon and Sansa had gone to speak with.

That must mean the meeting is at an end.

She was eager to hear what had went on at the meeting and looked towards the door, half expecting them to walk through at that very moment.

No one came though. For a time she was content to lean against the wall and wait. Then she passed the time talking to Jeyne about this and that. Then in her boredom she watched as the young woman taunted her pet with a bit of string. When it felt like she had waited for hours her patience finally came to an end. Her pacing was bound to wake Rickon so she decided to just go and seek Jon herself at his chambers. Jeyne had not been thrilled at the idea of being alone there, should Rickon wake but Arya promised she'd be right back with the others.

When she gently opened the door and slipped outside into the corridor faced the largest member of the Sworn Guard.

"Princess?" Morgan Liddle cocked an eyebrow at her. "Is all well?"

"Don't call me that, it's Arya." She waved off his worries. "I'm going to find my brother, guard Rickon please."

She didn't give him a chance to respond before she sprinted down the hall.

"Princess! You should have an escort!"

She ignored that. Gendry and Pod might be intimidated by the large northern clansman but not her. He was no Greatjon Umber. The Hound had scared her more and the Mountain even more than all of them. A glance behind showed Morgan hadn't followed and it was no surprise really.

If he leaves Rickon unguarded he'd make a shit Sworn Guard.

After being cooped up in Sansa's chambers for so long it felt good to stretch her legs. She liked running down the corridors, waving at servants and men-at-arms alike. It helped to remind them she was no princess. That she was Arya Underfoot again like she was before. She even passed Lyra Mormont as she spoke with the Greatjon. The pair had both been involved a deep conversation yet the giant lord stopped their discussion and shot her a concerned look as she went by.

Jon had kept his old chambers just like Arya did. Though this meant they were still as far as ever from the rest of their family, which left her winded by the time she arrived before his chamber. Arya liked that both she and Jon wanted to keep some things like they were before but found a part of her wishing he'd moved all the same.

It's not like anyone will tell him to stay away from us any longer.

Sansa probably wouldn't mind if he moved closer.

She was as sure of that as she was sure that Jon wouldn't mind if she just entered his chambers. It didn't even occur to her to knock. It just felt right to go right in like she always had. It was too early for him to be abed and if he was indisposed it was nothing she hadn't seen before.

Yet when Arya burst through the door the sight within stopped her mid-stride. For within the room she found someone she hadn't expected.

I didn't even think Sansa knew where Jon's chambers were.

She had no doubt it was her sister she saw though. Sansa had her back to her but Arya recognized her sister's auburn hair and the dress she wore from before. What surprised her all the more was what Sansa was doing, for her sister was kissing someone, her face pressed deeply against his. Sansa's arms were around the man's neck and his arms were around her waist.

Why is she kissing someone in Jon's room?

Why would she even be in his room?

In the moment it took for Arya to think those thoughts the arms around Sansa suddenly tore away. Sansa spun around to face the door, her face twisted in shock and fear. When she saw it was Arya there she cried out.

Just as Arya did when she saw who Sansa had been kissing.

"Jon?" Arya choked out. Jon was backing away from her, his hands raised up to just above his eye, shaking his head at what he saw.

"No…" He said quietly. "No, not like this…"

Jon was kissing Sansa.

Sansa couldn't be kissing him. He's our brother.

She couldn't.

"Arya!" Sansa shouted as she ran at her.

She thought for a moment that Sansa meant to hit her but her sister merely pushed Arya aside to slam the door shut, pressing her back against it as if the Others themselves were without.

"Arya, oh gods girl, why?" Jon ran his hands down his face. She saw that there was a dark bruise forming alongside the cheek and down to his neck.

"Why? Why!? Forget why!" She snapped. "What was that?!"

"Arya, it is not what you think." He took a few steps towards her. "Let me explain."

"You were kissing Sansa."

Arya spoke the words but she didn't want to believe it herself. Walking in on Jon kissing their sister was so ridiculous that it didn't seem real to her. She had to say it out loud to begin to believe it. In the past, Jon had kissed Arya on the cheek or forehead and maybe once on Sansa's hand.

Yet what she had seen was not so innocent. She'd seen her parents kiss like that.

"She's your sister!" She rasped. "And you were kissing her! Why?"

"It's not an easy thing to speak of." Jon reached out for her but she cringed away.

"Try! Tell me I didn't see that, please! Tell me something!"

Jon froze then, his eyes wide and she thought he paled some.

"I can't lie to you Arya… not anymore."

What is he talking about? When did he ever lie to me?

She had taken another step back and bumped into Sansa who stood at the doorway. Jon had told Arya to treat Sansa kindly and he had been acting so warm towards her. Now she knew why.

Sansa had been kissing him. She'd been kissing their brother.

My brother.

Sansa was talking and doing such a good job at trying to be quiet that Arya had no idea what she was saying, the words being too low to hear. Sansa finally stamped her foot and hissed at Jon.

"You have to tell her the truth. If you don't- it could- she's too rash! She'll ruin everything!"

I'll ruin everything? Me?

Arya almost felt a laugh coming on then, a hysterical and mad laugh. What could be worse than what Sansa had been doing? Arya wasn't planning on kissing their brother so of the two of them she didn't think she was the one ruining things.

"No she won't." Jon sounded like he was trying to soothe Sansa. "Let me do this."

Sansa began to calm down then and Jon looked at Arya strangely. He spoke to Sansa like she was some sort of victim, as if she was the one wronged here. Arya couldn't believe the injustice of it all.

"It's sick! Sick and wrong!" Her stomach was turning and her anger was becoming a ball of fire inside her. "You're not sick Jon! She is! Don't let her infect you! Don't let her ruin you!"

All the good will she'd felt towards Sansa since returning was forgotten. Sansa had been so horrible to Jon growing up and even worse to her. Sansa had wanted to marry the man who had almost killed Jon!

Now that he's a knight she wants him. She's trying to take him away from me.

It's the same with Rickon, now he's a king so she'll pretend to be mother to keep him too.

"Arya, please listen to him!" Sansa yelled, her voice full of anger. "For once in your life, just be reasonable!"

She is angry with me?

"For once you just shut up!" She yelled right back. "You're the one not being reasonable you twisted-"

"Arya!" Jon cut in, his voice pleading. "'I'm so sorry for this. Truly. I know it is hard to understand but we learned something many moons ago."

"I don't care what you learned!"

She whipped around to point at Sansa, her sister staring at her finger as if it was the end of a sword.

"It's what she learned that matters, isn't it? What the rest of us always knew! What I always knew! That you are good! She only cares that you're a knight now, she doesn't really care about you!" Arya's skin was burning and she could not remember the last time she'd been so wroth. "She ruins everything! She wanted to be queen and Joffrey killed father! She loved Loras Tyrell and look what he did to you!"

She took a step forward towards Sansa who appeared almost sick at her words.

Good, let her know how it felt to see what she was doing.

Arya knew it wasn't just the kissing that bothered her. Deep down she believed Sansa was misleading Jon, maybe even tricking him. Jon could never love Sansa more than her. Jon and Arya had always been the two outsiders and all the closer for it. People were starting to see Jon for the good man she'd always known him to be. So now Sansa wanted to take him away. Sansa could never be the better sister so she had tried to use being a queen to steal him at first.

Now she can't be a queen so she's trying to get him by being the prettier one.

The sister all the boys always looked at.

The girl who would kiss him…

She couldn't think of it. It confused her to think of Jon in such a way so she turned to Sansa instead.

"What did you do to him!? You did this to him! You're awful! You're disgusting! I can't believe you! You can't trust her Jon!"

Arya didn't care how harsh the words stumbling forth from her mouth sounded. This wasn't like the red rages she had when someone hurt her friends. This was the cold one, the kind that turned her insides to ice and her body almost numb. The rage that cast a strange calm over her, and set her sword hand to twitching. This was how she'd felt when she'd killed Hyle.

And that scared her.

She did her best to push it away. To accept the red-hot rage which lay just beneath the cold fury. To fuel the flame she thought of all the times Sansa had stolen from her. Not just her dolls or her lemon cakes.

She remembered all the stolen moments with their parents, when one of her accomplishments would be set aside to fawn over Sansa's new dress. When Robb had to stop playing with her to practice his dance steps with Sansa. When Jon and her would be enjoying a happy moment laughing until Sansa and Jeyne would come by, and an upturned nose would ruin Jon's mood completely. No matter how scared and sad Sansa looked now Arya saw through it, she saw the haughty girl beneath.

The thief and the liar.

The traitor.

"She'll say she loves you! She'll say it easily enough but then someone prettier or nobler will be there and she'll choose them!" Arya was screaming now, all of her anger towards Sansa tumbling forth. "She chose the Lannisters over father! She chose Joffrey over Mycah! She chose Myranda over Jeyne! She chose Jeyne over me!"

Arya had never thought of it like that but as she said it the words felt true. Sansa had always treated Jeyne more like a sister than she ever did Arya.

She never loved me. Not like I loved her.

"She won't just betray you, she'll get you killed too! Just like Mycah! Just like father!"

"Arya, I didn't…" Sansa was in tears now but Arya kept her own in check.

"Jon loved me first! You can't have him too! I won't let you! You selfish, horrible-"

"Don't say such things!" Jon's shout caught her off guard but not as much as when he went to comfort Sansa instead of her.

He's going to her. He's going to her instead of me.

Everyone will always choose Sansa over you, said some terrible voice inside her.

"I hate you!" Arya screamed as the tears finally broke and streamed down her face.

She shoved Sansa away from the door and grabbed hold of the handle, her only desire to get as far away from here as possible. Then something had pulled on her cloak and she was being held in place. Arya didn't know who she expected to be there, if she even remembered it was only the three of them in the room. Maybe she knew who it was and didn't care. Her fist swung out anyway without thought.

And relief flowed through her when she felt it strike something soft and warm. A good, solid punch always grounded her. Even the grunt of pain and Sansa's cry sounded good.

Until she saw what she'd done.

Through her tears Arya saw Jon kneeling before her, blood spilling from his lip, a hurt expression on his face. When their eyes met his shoulders slumped.

You hurt him.

Then Sansa was next to him and Arya couldn't watch anymore. She wrenched the door free and ran as fast as she could. Arya ran without really looking where she was going, the path becoming a blur around her. People cried out and some called her name but she didn't stop. If she stopped she would drown in all the dark memories flooding her thoughts.

Father being forced down to his knees. Biter's bloody mouth as it tore away from Brienne's face. Pod's cries as the Boltons pulled him away and into the dark. Jon's scarred back at the hot springs. His hurt face and the blood spilling from his lip.

So she ran all the faster. Trying to outrun all of it.

To leave the hurt behind.

To leave the blood behind.

******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.******