Sansa

The bride was immaculate in her white woolen dress. She would have looked part of the scenery were it not for the green cloak she wore. Meera walked toward the Weirwood tree on her father's right arm along a path marked by lanterns, their footsteps crunching softly in the snow. Sansa smiled, both out of happiness for the bride and pride for her textile work. She'd led a group of women in the making of the dress and both cloaks. Bran sat in his wheelchair at the base of the heart tree, dressed in his smartest tunic. Sansa stood with Jon to her right, in front of the small pool at the foot of the Weirwood. Others stood with them and the opposite side of the path; to name some, Brienne, Podrick, Lord Royce, Ser Kyle, Rygle, other members of castle staff and some smallfolk who were staying in the castle. Sandor was in his chamber, as far as Sansa knew.

The Old Gods had been kind and brought the snow storm to an end not long after Baelish's beheading earlier in the day. The only emotion she remembered feeling when the traitor's head came off was relief. Now his schemes are at an end. Jon and Bran are safe. Everyone cleared out of the Godswood and Jon spoke to Rygle about preparing Littlefinger's body to be burned the next day. Afterwards, Sansa and Jon summoned Lord Royce to Jon's solar. The Vale Lord stepped inside to find Sansa stood next to Jon who sat behind his desk while Ghost sat in front of it.

"Lord Royce," Jon began, voice clear and strong and formal.

"King Jon, Princess Sansa." Royce nodded to each of them when he said their name.

"With Lord Baelish executed, the Vale has lost its Lord Protector," Sansa said. "The two of us understand the role needs to be filled by someone of the Vale who is both competent and loyal to the crown. As such, we've decided that you will be best suited for the position."

Lord Royce took a knee. "Your Grace, My Lady, I am honoured beyond words."

"Rise, Lord Royce," Jon told him. "Your positon as Chief Military Commander is no longer necessary as it was a precaution to make sure your authority over the Knights of the Vale was secure. As such, you no longer hold the role."

"Very well. Is there anything else you need of me, Your Grace?"

"That will be all."

Lord Royce left Jon's solar and for the rest of the day, Sansa & Jon spent their day looking over reports that had arrived from each of their bannermen that Sansa had been saving for Jon to look over. People were mostly cooperating with the order to have every person trained for combat, bar a few outliers who were refusing out of stubbornness. Smallfolk were also taking kindly to being moved to safe, fortifiable buildings so that they'd be better protected when the White Walkers eventually came. Most soldiers were preparing be sent to fight the Walkers but some would be left at home to protect those staying at home. When sky grew dark outside, Jon went to Bran's chamber to help him dress while Sansa made her way to the Godswood to oversee the placement of the lanterns. Now she stood watching as Meera & her father reached Bran underneath the Weirwood.

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Bran asked softly, beginning the ceremony.

"Meera of House Reed comes here to be wed," Howland replied. "A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"Brandon of House Stark, Prince of the North. Who gives her?"

"Howland of House Reed, Lord of Greywater Watch and her father." He looked to his daughter. "Lady Meera, will you take this man?"

Meera's lips perked into a smile before she replied, "I take his man."

Howland stepped away as Meera pushed Bran around in his wheelchair to face the Weirwood tree. She knelt while she prayed but Bran was forced to stay sitting. Following the prayer, Meera turned her husband back around and bent down in front of him so Bran could remove her maiden cloak. It was made of wool dyed dark green with a black lizard-lion embroidered on the back. Jon took the maiden cloak from Bran and gave him the bridal cloak, which was plain white with a grey direwolf running across its her new cloak on, Meera placed a kiss on Bran's lips before perching herself in his lap.

Jon pushed the two of them to the great hall and the meal they had there was not a large one. Winter rations were all that were allowed and no one complained. Sansa and Jon gave up their seats at the centre of the high table for the new married pair. A single musician from Wintertown did his best to fill the hall with music from his place sitting in the corner using a low voice, an aged woodharp and the heel of his foot. The castle inhabitants danced along to the music in the open space it's centre: the tables had stayed up against the walls after the trial.

The musician began with the Dornishman's wife, doing his best to build the energy of the hall before moving onto Six Maids in a Pool. Jon offered to dance with Sansa and she took the offer up. Baelish is gone. I can enjoy myself. Just as the King and Princess began dancing, the musician transitioned into the Bear and the Maiden Fair. During her tenure on the dance floor, Sansa had Howland, Lord Royce and Ser Kyle as partners while she saw Jon with several smallfolk women. Looking around the hall, all the smallfolk men in the hall were dancing, but that left a lot of women without partners. Because the rest of the men died in the war. It was a somber realisation that left Sansa deflated enough to cut her dance with Winterfell's loyal Master-at-arms short.

Returning to the high table, Meera & Bran had not moved from it. It was a pity that the two of them could not dance together on their wedding night because of Bran's not being able to walk. Jon soon returned to the high table to offer Meera a dance but she politely declined. "My husband cannot dance, Your Grace," she reasoned, "so I will not dance either." Jon accpeted before sitting himself back in-between Sansa and Bran.

Eventually the musician exhausted his knowledge of cheerful, fast songs that people could dance to energetically. When this happened, he spoke loudly to be heard over the crowd. "Oi, oi, everyone settle down," he called. The crowd stopped moving and looked at him. "Now, I'm sorry to say that I've got one song left to play and it's best that the crowd be sitting silently so Prince Bran and his new wife can hear it." The crowd sat themselves down and the musician moved to the centre of the hall. He bowed with a nod of the head to Bran & Meera before saying, "This last song I sing for the pair of you." The musician sat down, strummed the harp once before continuing with the song:

My featherbed is deep and soft,

and there I'll lay you down,

I'll dress you all in yellow silk,

and on your head a crown.

For you shall be my lady love,

and I shall be your lord.

I'll always keep you warm and safe,

and guard you with my sword.

And how she smiled and how she laughed,

the maiden of the tree.

She spun away and said to him,

no featherbed for me.

I'll wear a gown of golden leaves,

and bind my hair with grass,

But you can be my forest love,

and me your forest lass.

A few moments of silence followed the end of the song. The first person to clap was Meera, then Bran and then the rest of those in the hall. The musician stood and bowed in all directions to the people in the room. After the cheering and clapping ended, Ser Kyle was the one to stand and say loudly, "We've had our wedding, now time for the bedding."

Jon shot up immediately as the crowd let out a cheer. "Only if Prince Bran and Princess Meera wants it," Jon declared, not unkindly. He looked down at his brother and good-sister while Sansa lean forward to look past Jon to see Bran and Meera's faces. The new married pair looked at each other, asking each other silently whether or not they wanted to be carried to their bed chamber by other people. After a short time of speaking quietly, the pair nodded to each other.

Bran turned to the room and said, "Bed us!"

Another cheer went up and Jon was quick to move while the rest of the crowd shot out of their seats. Sansa thought it would probably be good to join in as well. As she reached her brother, Jon had already gotten Meera out of her chair and over his shoulder; the bride was laughing heartily as she was carried by her good-brother. Meanwhile, Sansa got Bran's arm over her shoulder and used all her strength to get him out of his wheelchair.

Jon was leaving the hall as the other women in the hall had gotten around the high table to help her. Meera's mother, Jyanna, helped Sansa in supporting Bran's weight while other women removed his clothes. By the time they'd gotten him to his bedchamber, he was down to his undershirt and smallclothes. The men had gotten Meera down to her undershift. She was lying on the bed waiting for Bran. Sansa settled her brother down on the bed before herding the rest of the women out of the chamber and closing the door behind her.

Returning to her solar, Sansa had some housekeepers fill a bath. Climbing into the metal tub that sat next to the hearth, the warm water made her muscles relax and loosen. She took the time to enjoy the heat of the water before using a cloth to clean her body up and down: first her legs, second her arms, third her torso. Through the cloth, Sansa could feel the difference between normal skin and each of the different scars covering her body. It came as a surprise when Jon knocked on the door.

"Sansa," he said through it, "can we talk?"

"I'm bathing," she answered.

"Oh. I-I'll came back after you're finsihed."

"No. Wait." Sansa climbed out of the tub. Water dropped from her body and onto the floor and she picked up a linen, drying herself off promptly. Tying her hair up in a messy bun, Sansa slipped on the nigthshift she'd had ready for when she left the bath. "You can come in."

Jon began by poking his head into the room gingerly. Once he'd confirmed that Sansa was decent, he stepped inside the room more confidently, pulling out a chair from the table and joining her in sitting at it. Jon was dressed in just his breeches and undershirt, feet bare against the hard wood floor.

"Bran looked especially happy when I left his bedchamber," Sansa said to begin the conversation. It made Jon smile.

"That's good, he deserves it." Jon inspected the floor between his feet. "He's going to be Lord of Greywater Watch when Howland dies, which means he'll be living down in the Neck."

"That's years away."

Jon nodded. "It is." He scratched the back of his head. "But I bring it up because I'm worried about the succession of the northern crown."

Sansa could not help but chuckle. "Your brother just got married and you're worried about who's going to wear the crown after you."

Jon looked her dead in the eye. "If I die without children, the crown passes to Bran. That is an incredibly likely future because of the threat of the White Walkers. I don't want to have him worrying about ruling over both the Neck and the rest of the north."

Sansa frowned. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I'm going to make someone else my heir. Frankly, I should of done this even before I'd left for the Wall since it would've helped to protect Bran against Littlefinger."

"You're going to name me your heir." She didn't need him to tell her. It was obvious. There was no one else he could name.

"Yes. I want you to be my heir and rule the North should I die in the war against the White Walkers."

Perhaps that's the future Bran saw. I'm crowned Queen because Jon dies without any children.

"Thank you, but have you told Bran? How do you think he'll react to this news?"

Jon sighed. "I don't think he'll care. He was occupied with looking into the past and fine with leaving you to rule while I was away, wasn't he." Sansa nodded. "Then I don't think he'll be that annoyed by me naming you my heir."

"Do you plan on taking a wife?"

Jon smirked. "I remember passively considering Alys Karstark, but she is no longer on the table. There's Lyanna Mormont, but she's six years my junior. Lord Madnerly has grandaughters that would be closer to my age and I'm sure that other lords would be more than willing to bring their daughters and grandaughters to Winterfell for me to meet them. The thing is, the idea of marrying someone I don't know isn't very appealing to me."

Sansa blew air out her nose, smiling. "I know the feeling."

Jon hummed. "I'm also not sure whether or not it's something I should be worrying about at the moment."

"You should," Sansa told him. "And that's me officially advising you. If you marry and have a child with your wife, it will help in continuing our house. Bran's children are going to be named Reed under your new law, so you are only person who can continue the Stark name."

"Then how about we look at my options with Maester Wolkan and Lord Howland tomorrow then."

"Sounds like a plan."

Jon retired to his chamber for the night and Sansa climbed into bed for the night. She fell asleep to a soft wind beating on the window. Waking in the morning, Sansa felt well rested and ready for the day ahead of her. She brushed her hair, got into fresh clothes, buckled on her sword belt and then made her way to Jon's solar to place a knock on the door. It was opened to reveal Jon's face lit up at the sight of her before he said, "Good morning, Sansa." The pair of them broke their fast with Brienne, Podrick & Sandor; all of whom they found in the great hall.

Jon then went off to perform his daily prayer while Sansa went with the other three to spar. Jon joined them soon, offering to duel with Sansa to see how she'd progressed during his time away. She pleasantly surpirsed him with her increased skill. While Jon won most of their duels, Sansa proved to be becoming a competent sword wielder.

With the wind calm and the snow light, a party rode out to the Wolfswood. Sansa & Jon were accompanied by a number of stewards who carried firewood and the corpse of Petyr Baelish. They found a clearing close to edge, amoung the many sentinel and pine trees that populated the woods. Here the stewards arranged the pyre, placing Littlefinger's body on the wooden pile. Sansa held the torch as a steward striked it with a flint & steel. The new flame lit the straw tinder and soon the pyre was burning in earnest. She watched the fire grow in height & felt its temperature rise, the snow around the pyre melting. Happy that it would burn until only ashes remained, she handed the torch to one of the stewards and remounted her horse. "Come Jon," she told her brother. "We've given him more time than he deserves." Jon told the stewards to remain with the fire for a little longer before they were to return to Winterfell. He mounted up and the two Starks rode back home without sharing any words.

Jon did not waste his first whole day back after his trip to the Wall. The first thing he did was follow the advice Sansa had given him yesterday forming his Kingsguard out of Brienne, Sandor and Podrick. To be a member, a person didn't need to be a knight, only a competent sword wielder. After that Jon, Sansa, Howland and Rygle spoke at length about preparing the castle to accomodate all the smallfolk in Wintertown. At some point in the future the townspeople would need to take refuge in Winterfell as it would be safer for them than staying in their homes. Howland proved to be every competent and easy to smile when jokes were made.

Thankfully, work on the trench was able to resume. Sansa spent some time with Jon walking around the castle, speaking to the workmen who were digging. She pointed out to Jon that she ordered that all the displaced earth be piled up in the shape of a horseshoe north of the castle, the Kingsroad separating two halves and the curve of the shoe being closer to Winterfell. Sansa had thought of it as a extra defense: the wights would have to go far around it, climb over it or bottleneck themselves to travel along the road. Jon told Sansa it was a good idea and mentioned that he hadn't even noticed it because it looked a natuarl set of hills.

Evening saw Sansa, Jon, Bran and Meera supping together in Sansa's solar. The stew was thin, the ale thick. Conversation occurred mainly between Jon and Bran, the younger sharing all that he'd found in his time searching the past. Bran become rather gloomy when he told Jon, "I saw the Wall fall."

Jon's face dropped. "Do you know when it will happen?"

"I don't even know if it will happen." Bran pulled up his right sleeve. "Regardless, we should assume it will." He showed Jon & Sansa a large bruise on his forearm. "This is the Night King's mark. It allows him to know exactly where I am." He pulled his sleeve back down. "I strongly recommend that when you call the banners, you bring them here instead of the Wall. Call the Night's Watch as well. I saw them fleeing Castle Black in my vision and it will be better if they are already here."

"Is there anything else you can tell me about this vision?"

"I..." Bran swallowed. "I saw an ice dragon." A chill travelled up Sansa's spine.

"What did it look like?"

"Like a normal dragon talked about in the history book and the ones Daenerys Stormborn has, though it's body was cover in shards of ice instead of scales. And it was huge. I've seen Daenerys' dragons during my search and the ice dragon was bigger than the three of them combined."

An uneasy silence remained in the room until Bran & Meera left, having finished eating.

Almost two weeks passed. In that time, Jon being home proved to be a blessing. Given she was no longer ruling in his place, the tasks Sansa needed to complete were significantly less. During court, Sansa noticed Jon did not receive as much abuse from petitioners as she had when giving them answers they didn't like. They respect him more, Sansa thought was a possibility. Or they fear him more. That I couldn't blame them for.

When he wasn't with Sansa, Jon was with Bran in the Wierwood throne chamber. It would be the two of them alone for hours on end as they would ask Meera to leave. She would either train in the yard or spend time with Sansa, helping her with royal duties; it seemed only appropriate given that Meera was now a princess after marrying Bran. It was also good time for the two of them to bond as good-sisters. They hadn't talked much despite how long Meera had been in Winterfell and it wouldn't do well if they didn't have a strong relationship.

One strange thing to happen was Jon drafting a pardon order for Lady Melisandre. Sansa watched as he scratched the writing onto parchment with a quill and could not help but ask why.

"Because Ser Donald has orders to put her in shackles and bring her here if she enters the Neck," Jon told Sansa. "She cannot help us if I have to execute her."

"But she murdered a child."

"And Jaime Lannister fought against our family in the War fo the Five Kings. I cannot pick and choose who fights beside me in the war against the White Walkers. The living are the living and we all must fight against the dead... It also means that whatever I must do concerning Arya will happen after the White Walkers are defeated."

"Are you saying you aren't going have her killed?"

His hand froze. "Yes. She will be punished but it will not be death. As much as what she did is certainly justice for the Red Wedding, I will not have innocents dying for crimes they didn't commit."

At the end of that two weeks, Sansa began her day with porridge for breakfast and a warm bath. She scrubbed her skin red raw then dried off, dressing in a tunic with the grey direwolf of Stark running on the back of it. She dressed her hair into a northern style. Her tiara went a atop her head, her swordbelt went around her waist and her cloak went over her shoulders. Sansa walked the corridors to the rookery tower, making the ascent up the exterior stairs. Her entrance was greeted by Maester Wolkan looking up from a large book and saying, "Good morning, My Lady."

"Good morning, Maester Wolkan," Sansa replied. "Are there any raven scrolls for myself or His Grace?"

"One came in the night, Princess." He held it out to her so she could pluck from his fingers. The wax was gold with a lion pressed into it, the name of who it was intended for – Jon Stark – was written on the outside.

"Thank you, Maester. I will be sure His Grace gets this."

She left before anymore words could be shared. Where would he be? Sansa walked back down the stairs and into the keep. She first went to Jon's Solar: he wasn't there. She checked the great hall: he wasn't there. Passing through the main courtyard, Sansa saw Sandor and Podrick but not Brienne. Arriving at the archway entering the Godswood, she asked the guard with the thick black beard, "Is His Grace, praying?"

"He is My Lady," the guard replied.

Sansa gave the guard a soft nod before venturing into the Godswood. The trees towered into the air, the ground & leaves pure white. Snow fell softly but quick. As she reached the clearing at the centre, Brienne stood guard at the edge. The two women exchanged greetings as Sansa passed.

Heading toward the heart tree, for a moment Sansa thought she saw her father sitting in front of it, Ice across his lap, rubbing its blade with an oiled cloth. But in an instant her mind realised it was Jon: Longclaw instead of Ice & a whetstone instead of a cloth. As she approached, a pair of red dots appeared by Jon's feet and soon Ghost was running toward her. She knelt, wrapping her arms around the direwolf's neck before receiving a wet cheek in return. Jon chuckled from his perch at the foot of the Weirwood. Sansa got back on her feet, walking the rest of the way toward him. She stopped two metres from the tree, Ghost sitting by her side.

"You look so much like father sitting there," Sansa told him warmly, fiddling with the scroll in her hands. "I remember once when I was eight, I came to him after he'd beheaded a man and found him hear cleaning Ice."

"And what did you talk about?" Jon asked.

"I asked him why he always came here after seeing justice done. He told me that he did it to be at peace. Taking a man's life was always hard on him, regardless of the fact they'd committed a crime."

Jon nodded. "And did he ever tell you why he needed to do it himself?"

"The man who passes the sentences should swing the sword, though I suppose the same would hold true if a woman passed the sentence."

Jon regarded her warmly. "Do you think you'd be able to?"

Sansa nodded. "Yes. Should I ever be standing judgement over someone, I would take their life if I thought I needed to." Looking into her hand, she remembered why she'd come looking for Jon and handed him the scroll.

Jon cracked the gold wax. His eyes flicked over the words and he let out a small relieved sigh.

"So he's going to speak with you?"

"He is."