Hello!

Well, dearest readers, it has been almost a year since I started this story and I am proud to say it is the first one I manage to finish!
This is the last proper chapter before the epilogue.
I really do hope you enjoyed reading it!

Sansa

For the first time in five years, Sansa felt at peace with her life. She was sitted on the dais as she had dreamed of when she was a small child. Only she was in Winterfell, which she would have thought of as a nightmare before she left for the capital. She was surrounded by her family, those who remained… and the North was independent. In time, a child of the North would control the Seven Kingdoms. This really was better than any dream she could have had.

Before the feast she had so carefully planned and that was now roaring in the Great Hall, some rewards were given. Gendry, the bastard of Robert Baratheon who Arya seemed to love so much was made a lord under a name of his choosing – Bullstrong – and given the Dreadfort. Tormund, to his great surprise, became the Lord of Moat Cailin with the task of rebuilding it. Other people of lesser importance to her were rewarded, she smiled all the way through it and her expression, for once was genuine.

During the feast, she looked around her. Jon and Myrcella were chatting softly and chuckling together, her goodsister had gotten much stronger in the last month, but she still required her husband's assistance whenever she left the keep. Arya, as usual, was talking to Gendry. Daenerys was in deep conversation with Ser Barristan. It eased Sansa's mind that the old Kingsguard would remain South with the dragon queen. She had heard of the plan, but she thought that, more than Tyrion and Tommen, Ser Barristan would be a good guardian for her. Tyrion himself was drinking with his brother, Brienne and Lord Tormund.

Sansa was alone for now, but after a while, she saw people she would like to talk to. She got up and crossed the hall. She sat across from him and poured herself a cup of northern ale.

"Never understood how you northerners can drink this piss…" The Hound, Sandor Clegane, said when she did. "Now I do. It's really not that bad." Sansa looked at him with an amused smile. "Used to be you couldn't look at me." He took another sip from his horn.

"That was a long time ago." She chuckled. "I've seen much worse than you since then."

"Yes, I've heard." He sighed not without compassion. "Hear you were broken in rough." There was a time when such a talk would have hurt her, shamed her, but not anymore.

"And he got what he deserved." She commented calmly. "I gave it to him."

"How?"

"Hounds." They both laughed at the irony of the situation.

"You've changed, little bird." He was in his cup once more. No one had called her that in a long time. "None of it would have happened if you left King's Landing with me. No Littlefinger, no Ramsay, none of it."

She had thought a lot about that. She took his hand softly. "Without Littlefinger and Ramsay and the rest, I would have remained a little bird all my life." In truth, she had regretted not leaving with him many time but now, she could right the wrongs. "Where will you go?"

"Somewhere I can get very drunk and forget all that's happened in my miserable life." He replied bitterly.

"You could stay here, we have all the ale you could wish for…" Sansa looked at his reaction and saw his eyes shimmer.

Myrcella

Myrcella had had to come to term with many things in the past weeks. With the loss of her arm, with Winterfell becoming her new home, that much was relatively easy. Or at least, made easier by Arya's, Sansa's and Jon's presence. She had a much harder time processing what Bran told her at the feast.

I'm sorry that losing your arm was necessary. If you hadn't you would have been too focused on yourself and you couldn't have helped Jon. She had frowned and told him there was no way he was at fault, that the White Walker's mist was at fault. It was my mist. I directed the fight. He had said with his emotionless voice. It had shattered her. She felt highly uncomfortable around Bran now, and hoped he would leave Winterfell, though it was not in discussion yet.

At least, he tried to avoid her, remaining in the Godswood as much as possible. Myrcella had not brought herself to tell Jon yet. She looked at him now, as they were saying goodbye to Daenerys in the courtyard of Winterfell. Not for the first time, she wondered if he should know.

Maybe he had noticed, because as they came inside, he gently brushed her stump to get her attention. "Something is troubling you. What is it?" He asked frowning.

"Not here." She replied with a sweet smile. The truth was, she did not know what to tell him.

Though, hours later, when they were finally alone in their room, she had no choice but to take a decision. "So, what bothers you?" He stroke her arms and search her face.

"I…" She decided to give him another information she had been withholding instead. "I'm pregnant." She had had it confirmed right after the feast.

Jon frowned. "Is that really why you've been so on edge? Did you think I would be upset?" He sounded a little hurt.

"Jon… I'm almost four moons along… I was already pregnant during the Long Night." She lifted her head and looked at him. His eyes widened in understanding.

"Did you already know?" He asked softly.

"I suspected… But I only had it confirmed a week ago." She explained.

Jon sighed, and she waited for his true reaction. "I won't say I'm happy you fought knowing that… I mean, Gods, Myrcella, you lost your arm, you could have…" He did not finish his sentence, there was no need. She already knew what he was trying to say. "But I'm happy… Happy that we can be a family… even if it's a little broken."

Myrcella chuckled lightly at his words. "It will be our job to mend it." She whispered. He pressed his lips to hers with force and gathered her into a tight hug. At first, she moaned, but his demonstration of affection hurt her arm a little. He noticed.

"I'm so sorry." He said backing away.

"It's alright… just my arm." She lifted the stump sadly.

He remained silent for a minute. "Now that you say it… You do have a little bump in your belly." It was no surprise he had not noticed. They had not been intimate since before the war because of her injury. And Myrcella had tried to deny the issue for a long time, refusing to acknowledge the bump.

She smiled. "I do…"

Jon

Never in his wildest dreams had he hoped to be a father. To be fair, he had never hoped to be married, or to be declared King, or to ride a dragon, or to leave the Night's Watch… either. But being a father had been something he had feared for so long. It was the reason why he had not laid with women as a youth, why he had been so uncomfortable with Ygritte sometimes. He did not want to have a bastard, to impose the name Snow on anyone. Even after he had been named a Targaryen and had married Myrcella, the possibility had seemed foreign to him. He knew it could happen, but in his mind, it would not.

Now, he laid in bed next to his wife, his arm resting on the small bump of her belly, and it all seemed entirely overwhelming. He had so many questions, so many doubts. Would he be a good father? Did he have enough love in him for a child? Would he be up to the task of raising the future King of the Seven Kingdoms? But also much more trivial interrogations like the colouring of the child. He imagined dark hair and green eyes, like Myrcella had described her daughter Arianne, or maybe blond with Stark Grey eyes. Maybe the Valyrian features in his blood would come out. He did not know how much he would like that.

Overall, he was both excited and anxious at the idea of having a baby. And he found himself thinking of his own childhood.

Jon was crying in his hiding spot in the Godswood. It was where he went when Lady Stark was too mean to him. He had started doing that the year before, when Robb had told him that six namedays was too old to cry. Easy to say for Robb, he had no reason to cry, his mother and father loved him.

It was in this position that Father found him. "There you are Jon. You had Ser Rodrik worried." His father reprimanded him softly, though his gaze showed his fondness for Jon.

"Sorry Father…" Jon did not want to make excuses for being there. He preferred to apologize rather than having to explain.

"Robb already told me what happened Jon…" His father sighed.

"Did he laugh at me?" Jon sniffed.

"Why would he laugh at you?" Ned Stark frowned.

"He does not understand… He cannot…" He struggled to find his words.

"He is not a bastard is what you mean?" His father completed for him and Jon nodded. "I'm sorry for the way my wife treats you. I wish… Nevermind. Sometimes I hope you will understand that your life will probably be made easier by your status. I know I cannot promise you much, my boy, but you will be safe at least."

Ned Stark had been wrong. He had proved to be a northern fool as Sansa had said once. But the thing that could never be said of him, was that he was a bad father. He was a very good father in fact. To all his children, the Starks were loved and cherished. Jon hoped to be that way. Though, he would probably teach much more to his sons and daughters than his 'father' had.

Margeary

The Red Keep had lived at the rhythm of the ravens for the last moons. Tommen especially, her husband was completely overwhelmed by the news from Winterfell, especially his sister's health. When the raven came saying that Myrcella was out of danger and had woken up, Tommen had cried of relief in the privacy of their chamber. The atmosphere had tensed once more, when King Jon had let them know that Daenerys was coming back to the capital – and Myrcella would not be with her this time.

Daenerys Targaryen was in no way as arrogant and confident when she came back from the North. It was night and day compared to before the fight with the dead. Now, she actually listened to Tyrion and Tommen before taking any decision. Margeary never thought she would say this, but Daenerys could prove a good-enough Queen in the end.

Of course, the capital feasted for many weeks to celebrate the success of the living and Margeary found herself enjoying hearing of the stories of the Long Night. These would soon be made into songs she knew. At one of the feasts, Obara even smiled, a rare sight for the Sand Snake.

"What makes you so happy?" She asked after a few amused glances toward her sworn sword (or spear, really).

"Myrcella." The broodish girl answered simply. "I was thinking of my father. He would be so proud of her…"

"We all are." Margeary smiled. "She came a long way. Such a shame she lost her arm though." Margeary almost ached for her goodsister. She could only begin to imagine the pain.

"She's a fighter, my Lady. She'll be alright." Margeary nodded. If anyone could be fine with one arm, it would be Myrcella.

Life resumed in the Red Keep. Margeary enjoyed the new dynamic of the capital, more than she could tell. The news reached them soon that Myrcella was pregnant. This time, the former queen only felt happiness, no jealousy. She had no reason to be. Tommen and her were in the process of taking in a child of their own. Jack, his name was, a baby and an orphan. Of course, she knew who his real parents were. Of course he was highborn. But all of this did not matter to her. He was a baby in need of love and education and she would give it to him.

Tyene

Arianne had started talking but Tyene was pretty sure she did not really understand the world around her yet. Nonetheless, she told her everything that was happening. The war her mother was fighting, her mother's injury, the little brother or sister that was on the way. Soon, the mighty Sand Snake found herself crying in front of the toddler. Arianne was such a sweet girl, she always tried to dry her tears with her small hands.

Prince Doran came with her sometimes. He enjoyed having his granddaughter on his lap and telling her of her parents and their childhood in Dorne. "One time, your father pushed your mother in this pool." He pointed at some water pool in the Water Gardens. "She was very mad. You see, she just had a silk gown made and he had ruined it." The baby laughed though Tyene doubted she knew what 'silk' meant. "Do you think you'll want silk gowns too?"

"Yes!" The little girl shouted making Tyene and her uncle laugh.

"Well, not too soon, otherwise you'll be ruining me." He tickled the baby to make her laugh again.

"I doubt she will ever be able to ruin you, Uncle." Tyene chuckled. "You are way too rich for that."

"Don't be too sure of that, Daughter." Tyene had not heard Ellaria arrive behind her. "Don't forget, our little Arianne is the future ruler of Dorne, daughter of the Queen in the North and sister to the future King of Westeros."

"King, not Queen?" Tyene asked teasingly.

"It's still the Seven Kingdoms, Tyene." Her mother told her. "I have Myrcella's letter." She waved a piece of paper. Tyene stood up quickly and jogged toward her to get the message.

Dear Tyene,

My time is near. Honestly, I did not remember being so big with Arianne. The maester says everything is going well though. It's a miracle considering the challenges I lived through… But I should give birth in about a month. It's the dead of winter here and it frightens me a little to have a baby in the North in this season. We will remain warm, that much is sure and a relief. Did I tell you that Winterfell is heated by hot springs already? Maester Wolken even found a way to rebuild the heating system in the destroyed parts of the castle.

I hope that you, Ellaria and Doran are well. I look forward to seeing you again when spring comes. I promise I will send you a raven as soon as the white raven reaches Winterfell. Jon said we could afford to travel as soon as the road clears, provided the baby is olf enough of course.

Please, tell Arianne that I miss her. Tell her that her little brother or sister is coming very soon and that she will have to be very brave and protect the little one. She must know who her family is. I hope in a few years she will be able to come to Winterfell for a little while so that she can see the snow… Can you describe the snow to her? It's soft and white and sparkling and so beautiful really. Almost as pretty as Dorne. Tell her, please.

Thank you very much, my dear friend.

I will see you soon,

Myrcella Targaryen, Queen in the North

Myrcella

"Boy or girl?" Myrcella had moved her solar into Jon's solar two weeks earlier. They had discovered they worked better when they were together. Myrcella was stroking her round belly and asking herself the same question over and over. Last time, she had been so sure of what the baby would be and she had been wrong. This time, she had no idea.

Jon lifted his gaze from the plan of a glass garden she had just given him. "Maybe one of both." He smiled.

"Don't get greedy." She laughed. "Though my stomach has grown so big this time, it would not be too surprising. But seriously, would you have a preference?" She insisted looking caringly at her husband.

"No…" He seemed to be thinking about it. "I mean, if we have a boy, then the Throne wuld be secure and, as you like to remind me, it is our duty. But if it's a girl, well at least we will get to keep her forever."

Myrcella scoffed, she had discovered that Jon had a talent to amuse her. "You do realise that daughters marry and leave the home one day, do you?" She teased him.

"No." He shook his head. "I will chop off the head of any man who gets too close to my daughters…" They both laughed this time.

They fell into a comfortable silence. Myrcella was reading through the papers Samwell Tarly had given her to correct. He was working on a recollection of the history of the Second Long Night. He started from the first attack of wights on the Night's Watch – one that Jon remembered had happened before Myrcella came to Winterfell the first time – and it ended with Jon killing the Night King with also the dead count and their names. Reading the pages as they came, day by day, she discovered all that had happened before she even became aware of the world around her. All the attacks, all the struggles, all the battles that her husband had been a part of when she was in Dorne and in King's Landing.

Suddenly, Myrcella felt a sharp pain in her back. She started to breathe harder and to panic, just a little. All of that must have alerted Jon. He rose from his desk and walked to her side.

"What's happening? Is it te stump?" She had fits of pain from time to time in the place of her arm. But this was not it.

She shook her head. "No,… I think the baby is coming." She saw the panic in Jon's eyes and honestly, if she had not been in pain, she would have laughed.

See you in a few minutes for the epilogue!