3: Her Crown

What little peace and order the five kings left us will not long survive the three queens, I fear."

"Three queens?" She did not understand.

Nor did Petyr choose to explain. Instead, he smiled and said, "I have brought my sweet girl back a gift."

AFFC, Alayne II

Littlefinger had received Maester Coleman's note that the white raven had alighted at the Gates of the Moon. It was officially winter. Outside, a light snow was falling. Through the window of solar, Sansa could see the sky was a dark grey. The mountains of the Moon were nearly fully shrouded in cloud with their white peaks rising solemnly above the darkness. It was terribly cold but Sansa barely felt it. She was dressed in a warm black fur, over a gown of flowing black velvet that day, and her auburn hair was drawn back beneath a jewelled net with onyx stones.

They had said goodbye to her betrothed that day. He had passed away in the night. Sansa had cried alongside Myranda, Lady Waynwood and even Lord Yohn Royce as they buried the man in the Sept's garden. Sansa had seen both of Harry's former paramours in the crowd, the heavily pregnant Saffron and the beautiful but plump Cissy with a sandy blond haired young boy at hand. She had gone to say her condolences to them both.

Now the Lords Declarant sat in the room adjacent to Littlefinger's solar, drinking to Harry's memory and deliberating. Littlefinger was with them. She knew what they discussed. Much had happened over the past few days since the revelation with Lord Royce and Lady Waynwood. She knew they were deciding what to do next.

She and Littlefinger had had many late night discussions, plotting their own moves. She was nervous now, hoping it would all turn out as they hoped.

Her lord father had told her to enter the room when the time was right, with Sweetrobin in tow. The little lord sat with her in the solar, staring at her as she stared out the window. They were accompanied by the eight Winged Knights. Ser Byron stood by her side, with her Uncle Brynden on the other. The other six knights, Ser Mychel Redfort, Ser Roland and Wallace Waynwood, Ser Lyn Corbray, Steffon Sunderland, and Ser Edmure Waxley stood behind Sweetrobin. Each man was bedecked in full armour with a long sky blue cloak over his shoulder and the silver pin of wings on his front.

"You lied to me, Alayne." Sweetrobin said to her. Then shook his head. "Your name is Sansa."

"Yes, I did not lie to deceive you but to protect myself. Queen Cersei has a warrant out for me. I am falsely accused of killing King Joffrey." She had explained this to him but she said it again without impatience.

"You could never do such a thing. I know it." He said to her, stubbornly. She felt some affection for him then. He crossed his arms and pouted. "If any of them come here I will make them fly."

She smiled and humoured him. "Yes, my lord." He was a tiny boy still, his long pretty hair his most redeeming feature as it flowed over his shoulders. He seemed heartened by her praise and smiled victoriously then slyly.

"There is nothing to stop you from marrying me now, Al-Sansa." He still called her Alayne by accident sometimes.

She raised her eyebrows, amused. "My lord?"

"You are nobly born. A Stark! You told me I should marry a highborn lady and now I can."

"Yes, my lord." She laughed. He was not wrong. Indeed, she had no more excuses for him - except one. "I am a Stark without a castle or lands. Winterfell is overrun with Boltons, our own bannerman, my brothers have all been killed. My younger sister Arya is in the North, married to a Snow - Ramsay Snow - a cruel man. I believed her dead until now. What use is a lady without her castle?"

Sweetrobin listened patiently, as he did when she read him stories of the Winged Knight. As she finished, she noticed he had a gleam in his watery eyes.

"Then I shall win back your home for you, my lady."

She stared at him. His child's voice and appearance made it a laughable promise but he was the Lord of the Eyrie and the Warden of the East. It would not be his sword arm but those of the six thousand men at his command who would win back her home.

At that moment, she got the signal from her lord father. His muffled voice carried through the door, calling for a toast. At that, she stood and took Sweetrobin's hand. "If you mean that, my lord, tell it to your Lords Declarant. Declare it before all, but understand, my Sweetrobin, what it means is war."

He nodded seriously. "I am an Arryn, I am the descendent of the Winged Knight. I am not afraid."

They entered the room, she held his hand tightly, flanked by their Winged Knights. The Lords Declarant had their glasses raised. Littlefinger sat at the head of the table.

"Let us toast to Lady Sansa Stark, the heir to Winterfell and the North, and to the Lord Robert Arryn, the Lord of the Eyrie and the Vale, and Warden of the East." said Littlefinger.

Lord Yohn Royce shook his head at that, grim-faced. "You are mistaken, Lord Baelish." He said.

Sansa's heart was in her throat.

He continued. "She is more than that. She is the heir to Winterfell and to the King in the North, Robb Stark." The great man stood. "I have ever regretted the day that we forsook King Robb in his hour of need, and I know I echo the heart of every man and woman in this room. When King Robb was slain dishonourably by the Freys, damn them all to the seven hells, his crown passed to Lady Sansa. She is the eldest remaining child of my old friend Lord Eddard, who lived shoulder to shoulder with us all during his time as a ward of the late Lord Arryn in the Vale. I will not allow Lord Eddard's last child to be forsaken. She is the true Queen in the North."

Every person in the room nodded solemnly, with fierce passion in their eyes.

"Hear hear!" said the Blackfish, her uncle.

Sweetrobin squeezed her hand. He spoke up in his high voice. "I echo your words, Lord Royce, as Warden of the East I pledge the swords of the Vale to my Lady Sansa to reclaim Winterfell in the North. Queen in the North." He cried.

The men in the room drew their swords. "The Queen in the North!"

Sansa had not noticed her presence in the room, but Prim appeared with the crown of winter roses. Sansa bowed low as she placed it on her head. With the crown on her head, she looked before the room of lords, and tried very hard not to show her shock or surprise. I am Queen of the North.

"I thank you, my lords. Together, we will take back Winterfell, avenge my Lord Father Eddard Stark, my brother King Robb Stark, my brother Lord Bran and Rickon Stark, and my mother, Lady Catelyn Stark, sister of Lady Lysa, slain by the Freys." She spoke from the heart, surprised at the overwhelming emotion that burst forth. She almost choked up, tears forming in her eyes.

"Treacherous Freys!" cried Lady Waynwood.

"Together we will defy the Lannisters who, for too long, have thought to rule Westeros without just claim. The same Lannisters who poisoned the late Lord Arryn."

Here Maester Coleman nodded, grief clearly writ on his face.

The Lords Declarant roared furiously.

"Together, we will restore glory, bring justice and wreak vengeance on those deserving. You bring me great honour today, my lords, and I hope to return your faith in me over and over." She said, bowing her head humbly.

"Well said," her uncle Brynden said loudly.

They cheered, thunderously. Sweetrobin clutched her hand hard, smiling widely. The Winged Knights sank to their knees, bowing to her, cuing the action from everyone in the room. She looked out over the kneeling figures of her subjects.

She locked eyes with her former Lord Father, Petyr Littlefinger Baelish.

He was smiling like a cat who had just caught a little bird in its jaws.

A/N: This chapter was a bit shorter, but it sets up important events. Unfortunately, there was no romance but don't worry - there will be :)