Jon's POV

Arya as always rose from the ground before I did. Sighing heavily, I push myself from the sand as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. My body feels heavy as I turn in a circle, uncertain of where to go from here. Home. We need to go home. I turn to Arya, watching her face scrunch angrily as she stares at the sun.

"We need to turn back Arya." I mumble, my voice horse.

"If father is at war with Lannister, it will not do them any favors to be caught now. Getting on a ship could be dangerous." She says distractedly as my jaw locks. She is always thinking three steps ahead. "We need to find a room. Send a raven to Winterfell." Her voice trails off at the end making me swallow more tears before they can fall once more.

"Arya." Her name is but a broken sound coming from me. Her jaw locks before she leans onto her knees taking deep breaths. I want to pat her back but something about this seems feral. This loss is overwhelming, and for her it is two-fold. She lost her sister, she lost her only true companion in time. She stands up straight, her chest slowing visibly as her eyes find mine.

"Come Jon." It's a short command that I follow silently. Her hand rest tightly upon needle, giving way to her turmoil. She grips her weapon; Sansa grips her hands. My stomach drops once more. Sansa gripped her hands, twisted them together like they were her old hair ribbons. My hands curl painfully as we enter the tavern once more, Arya approaching the keep to discuss something while I drop in a chair. Arya sits across from me, new ale placed in front of me that I frown at. She shrugs downing her cup then mine as I stare at the table.

"We have a room here. We need to head up the hill to send a raven." The more Arya talks the more my worry grows. She seems to be unaffected beyond her hands. She mourned most of her family already. I remind myself shrugging in acceptance as she pushes back to leave without a word, and I move to follow once more. I feel too exhausted to follow but also want nothing more than to keep walking until we are within the walls of Winterfell. In their room, surrounded by something familiar, safe. She enters the shop, speaking what might have been a foreign tongue but I can't focus on it all enough to truly know.

The Lone Wolf seeks direction.

I read her scroll as she holds it out for me with a solemn nod. She sends the raven, and we return to the tavern in silence. Entering the room, she props a chair against the door making me frown.

"Old habits." She comments dropping to the floor with a sigh. I take in the two small beds and the sparse supplies within the room. Laying onto the bed I let my eyes trail the cracks in the ceiling while wondering if the hollow feeling will ever fade or if I will wither further in the years like the cracking roof above me.

"I don't know how you did it. I feel like this will never end." I admit low as the silence becomes suffocating. Turning my head, I feel startled by the look in her eyes, swallowing harshly at the emotionless gaze she has locked onto me, a moment of pain shifting forward as we lock eyes before it is gone. Like this, this is what I will be. I don't know what pains me more, knowing I could become her or that the thought fears me. She startles me speaking sharply, a contained rage in her voice.

"I forgot how to be in a family. Sansa drug me to her side, my darkness and death never made her flinch, well beside the first time, after that I swore, she behaved unaffected to irk me." Her hand tightens on her blade until her knuckles are white. "I hated her for it, every second of it." I slip from the bed as her words drag on and her voice grows horse. "I hated it, and I loved her for it." Her scabbard hits the floor with a sounding thwack that makes me jump. "I fucking love her because she saved them. But I fucking hate it!" This isn't the enraged woman from the solar, this is a wounded animal trying to control its rabid bites and I find myself uncertain of what I should do. I move forward settling my hand upon her foot with a grimace as her shoulders slump and her face clears once more, all emotions leaving her face making my stomach sink further.

"I am sorry Jon." She says pushing off the floor before moving to the other bed and kicking her shoes off.

"You have no need to apologize." I answer settling back onto my bed. Feeling lacking in my care of the only sister I ever cared for, the only time traveler left, the last to save us. The weight building in my chest increases with the responsibility of keeping her safe.

"I keep thinking on that feeling." Her words draw my eyes once more, wondering what truly happened in that moment as she motions to her chest, referring to that night. Her eyes find mine with a sad glance. "I swear…. I…. heard Sansa say Torrance." I frown at the foreign name. "That's why I thought someone was coming." We both stare at the ceiling for hours in silence before we are drug under. The following day we find ourselves marching far later than we probably should have to check for a raven. Sleep had been long and hard once it finally took us.

"There's one for you." The guy tosses it on the counter as Arya snatches it without a backwards glance and we march back to the room tense. Arya fumbles with the tie before dropping it. I hand it to Arya without a thought. She sits on the floor once more before she furrows her brows and begins reading.

Stannis Baratheon has secured the Second Sons to aid in our fight. They will leave out of Pentos, find them and return to my side.

The King of the North

"Uncle has pulled from the rest of Westeros?" Arya smiles at my question before rolling the parchment quickly.

"Sansa would be proud." It's like ripping open an old wound and whatever question was on my lips disappears. I grimace turning from her as she tucks the scroll into her pants before we make our way for the horses. She secures food while I water the horses for the trip, my mind wandering to the day we left to Sansa's sure words that we would see each other again. The anger builds in my chest once more as I mount the horse and wait for Arya. I should have been with her. "You are lucky to have him boy. Jon keeps things safe." My stomach churns as the thoughts enter my mind once more. I am not the weathered man they described; I know no more of the world than Robb. Far less than my uncle. But the pain of failing to protect someone you vowed to do just that cuts deep. But not near as deep as losing her.

"Jon." Arya's uncertain murmur has me looking down as she stares at me with a furrowed brow by the side of my horse. Worry floods me at her blank face.

"What is it?" I ask tightly looking around the area to find nothing out of the ordinary.

"You just caught me off guard Jon." This short answer bothers me more than the words I already questioned. "Looked like a ghost for a moment." She murmurs.

"Arya." I grumble making her give me a side glance without any form of expression.

She sighs turning to give me her full attention. "This death is heavy. It will linger long past the battle to come. Even when her killers lie in shallow graves and we begin to rebuild she will be there, lurking around every corner. One day you will find it will bring you happiness instead of pain. You will think of her terrible tunes and clumsy steps and not her death." Before now she has never appeared aged beyond her parents, her young face seems foreign with her weathered words and wisdom. "Her death will change you, it will change me, perhaps more than all the deaths before hers, but I do not feel responsible. Neither should you Jon." My fist clench as her words hit the mark. The anger bubbling out of me as more pain replaces it. Silently she moves her horse closer to grasp my arm awkwardly for a moment before moving off without a word and I follow her under the beating sun once more. Trying to take her words to heart and failing miserably as Sansa's somber tunes flow through my head, painting pictures of the pain that will stretch on for years.

Finding the Second Sons had not been difficult. They are many, and loud in the distance as we watch them. Arya trusting her father's plan seemed to be an entirely different problem.

"I know only that they are skilled calvary and hire for money." Arya utters dryly as I shift around to watch the men move once more.

"Skilled Calvary we are little lady." A voice startles us from behind and we turn to find tall, bearded man that appears very happy with himself.

"We had heard as such but never witnessed your forces before sir." I comment standing in front of Arya slightly, uncertain of why the man seems so happy to be looking upon us.

"Reputation proceeds us then." He chuckles stepping closer to which I growl at. "Calm yourself young Tulley." My heart thunders as my hand goes to my sword. "That is not calming yourself." He steps back with hands raised. "It does confirm you are the kin to the King that has assured me a great boon to return you to his side." My jaw grinds painfully as I lower my sword.

"Proof." Arya says tightly from behind me, and I am happy to know she has remained there. Some part of me worrying she would not accept my protection or understand her life was tantamount to mine. Everything of the sisters spoke of our safety, our family above all and in the back of my mind I know if Arya could choose, she would die to save me, as Sansa did Rob and her father. Something I was loath to let happen.

"My horse is back a few stalls. Come with me." The man turns and walks with his back to us without a care that my sword is still out, leading us further from his men. I try to relax myself, not appear as if I was ready to strike. "I am Daario Naharis by the way. Not that you asked." The man turns to give us a raised brow at our appearance. "Northerners are so untrusting." He jokes making anger bubble within my chest, but I keep my mouth shut as he reaches his horse and pulls a scroll free. "I will not harm you, that directly goes against being paid." He turns to hand the scroll over, Arya snatching it before fluttering back to open it. Multiple scrolls roll out, my eyes take in the sealed Wolf having not been opened to the letter Arya's eyes fly across before her eyes find mine with a small nod.

"Feel better?" Daario asks cheekily before Arya steps to my side, and I sheath my sword. "Viscous Keeper you have little lady." He jokes once more of my attitude making Arya laugh darkly.

"Call me little lady again and you will see which of us is viscous." She clips out bored with the man as he laughs undisturbed by her words.

"My apologies then. Come on." Daario says walking forward with his reigns grasped as Arya holds out the scroll yet to be opened for me to see.

"For us." She says as she opens one scroll for another to fall free once more. I reach for one while she rolls the other quickly making me frown. Her sharp eyes turn on me with a frown. "Not now." I know whatever she has seen will hurt by the tightening of her shoulders as we each tuck a scroll into our belts.

"We will be boarding ships as soon as we reach harbor. At which point you are to stay with me and where I tell you to. Do you understand?" Daario clips tightly making Arya bristle, but I rest a hand on her shoulder as we grab our horses passing the post. We all mount and follow the man silently to his moving mass of men. He grunts at some soldiers as he passes, ignores some comments of our presence and keeps an eye trained on us far more closely than I care for. As if he didn't trust some within his ranks which made me look to Arya sharply. She is calm as always, a brow raised at my look that makes me sigh heavily.

The scroll is like a weight against my hip. Knowledge held within my grasp but not being able to read it is maddening. Did it speak of Sansa? Tell us of their mistakes or Robbs's bride? Of the efforts to relieve the world of the Lannister's once and for all?

"Quite the story unfolding of your kin beyond the water." Daario says as we find ourselves ahead of his mean with only a few straggling behind. The ocean visible in the distance with the town on the horizon.

"Which kin would that be?" Arya asks disinterested.

"The King of the North or maybe the daughter that people seem to be wagging tongues about endlessly." My chest tightening at the casual wording of Sansa or knowing she was subject to such tongue wagging. Wasn't that how we discovered the awful truth?

"Tongues often speak mistruths." I say making Daario turn to me with a cocky smirk.

"Very true Keeper." I sigh at his name for me but stay focused ahead. "I have often found these stories embellish beyond reason." Daario seems like a good enough character, but I am struggling with trusting anyone with our safety. Clearly uncle has portrayed us as Tulleys and not Starks. His reason being he would not trust anyone with the information either. "Although the blade at your hip suggests the stories of the blade wielding goddess may not all be embellishment." Arya laughs a sharp sound that makes me relax as she eases to my side.

"I have seen woman here carry a blade. Surely it's not a foreign concept to you?" She relaxes into the horse as I stay focused on the dwindling distance between us and the ocean.

"Not many and hardly any in Westeros from what I have seen." Daario answers pulling a water sac over his horse and offering it before gulping from the item after we decline. He motions a rider to go ahead yelling in foreign dialect. I wonder watching the man what Sansa would have made of him. Would she trust as her sisters seems willing to do? "I will talk with my men. Do not board without me." I watch his horse turn back before turning to Arya.

"He seems weary of his men." I say making Arya shrug carelessly at the words.

"Father sent additional scrolls for us. He did not read them." My brow furrows at her words. "That alone speaks to his character. We will stick together upon the vessel." I nod wanting to pull the scroll from my belt, but her words draw my attention once more. "Father had written to him that his daughter's favorite cousins were on a dalliance in the east and needed brought safely to him to the front." I nod storing the information away. Daario rides up hard as we enter the town, the harbor just before us.

"Third ship will be ours. You will be placed in a room, and I would be happy if you stayed there unless accompanied by me. Do you understand?" The man says as if agitated making me frown.

"Are we safe with your men?" I stall my horse to ask tightly. "I have no intentions of placing her in danger. Do you understand?" The man nods slowly with a smirk creeping across his face.

"I will allow no harm to come to your…. trouble or you keeper." He assures me as he rides forward, and Arya raises a brow at me mockingly. I roll my eyes and follow them to board the ship once more. Eagerly we tie the horses and follow Daario to a tight hall in the ship where he places us in a room with one bunk. We wave off his worries excusing ourselves for rest.

"Fuck." Arya says tightly as she pulls the parchment free. I do the same taking a seat against the wooden planks as the boat rocks, my stomach twisting for a reason totally different than it did the first time I rode. Unrolling the paper, I find my uncles scratch across the paper.

Sorrow is a heavy burden that we must endure in times of darkness. Sansa said we were lucky to have the will to mend our spirits when we spoke of the deaths we had seen. Words beyond her years, for reasons we understand. We must mend now, for her will desires it, so this loss does not pass in vain.

Arya slams to her feet as her hand flies over her mouth startling me. Tears building in her eyes at whatever is upon her scroll. My heart beating faster as she turns to me a broken laugh falling from her lips as she sits upon the bed to stare at me. Her hand rubbing her face harshly. I look my parchment over again.

Harness your strength and remember our words. My hand darts out offering the parchment as I reach for hers as she hands it over gently. Her eyes are a mixture of surprise and sadness and I wonder what could be upon this page to cause such a thing. Turning it, I find Robbs' handwriting written neatly in long lines.

Jon, Arya.

There is nothing like this grief. So many ways I wished I had been more that day, to you both I am sorry. Regret runs deep into my bones. We were trapped the enemy searching for us when she asked me to save her from further death, from losing anyone else that she loved, from allowing our house to fall, I could not deny her, not with her husbands' blood still painted upon her face.

A heavy sigh leaves me as I look to Arya briefly to find her watching my every reaction before my eyes dart back to the paper. Husband?

Our sister found her match, happiness unlike anything I have ever seen in another with Torrance Anels. My eyes fly to Arya's once more as my jaw clenches.

"Torrance." I say tightly as she nods with a sad smile before my eyes move to the parchment once more.

She made me promise two things upon that cursed ground. That a boy would be kept safe for the love of her sister. Gendry rode north with our men to lay Torrance to rest at Winterfell. Her second that I not allow her husband to be forgotten. An easy task with the mans' pendant hot against my neck where Sansa placed it that day. Torrance Anels was gifted at most things, a king's guard, an archer by trade but more than anything unyielding in his love for Sansa. Father married them before the gods tree within the capitol, my wife and her family to witness their union. She laughed more in the final week; the darkness snuffed from her eyes for good. She sang on whim and danced in the halls with children, all with Torrance at her side. I could never forget the man for giving her the greatest gift, peace. Torrance died protecting us that day, protecting her.

When the tears started to fall, I do not know but I find my eyes closing painfully before I can finish it, Arya frowning at me in worry. Taking a deep breath, I turn towards the paper once more as pain eases into anger.

Lady Olenna has seen to snuffing out the mad lions' actions and destruction with Sansa's story. She saved more than our house that day, more than the Tyrells, proof in little Elise, a common child she plucked from the ground in the midst of madness, she dances around my wives skirts now. The wolf and the lion are whispered in reverence around me in the halls. The North remembers and now we will too, words spoken by all. I move forward picturing her content smile as her husband stumbled over the words of the old gods, sure footed towards our enemy as she did that terrible day. We will avenge her, and all that we lost that day. Return to us safely.

Robb

My eyes flicker over the contents once more as I sigh heavily. How cruel could the world be to give her such a happiness for such a short time. How cruel could it be to take her from us after returning her such a short time ago. My eyes find Arya and I can see her worry build as her head tilts while gazing at me. I roll the parchment once more handing it back trying to find words that do not allude to the torment the letter has built in my mind.

"Gendry?" I ask after the silence stretches painfully.

"I never knew she noticed." Arya laughs softly her fingers tracing the letter. "I do not care for many things, but he I did care for. In what way I am capable of caring." She admits one of the more emotional aspects easier than I expected catching me off guard as I watch her. "He and I knew each other soon after father's death, but then I thought he dead only to find him at Winterfell upon my return all those years later." I nod as she smiles at me in earnest, the anger fading with her calm voice. "My sister was braver than I thought she could be." Tears line her eyes once more ,but she sniffs them away. "Then and now." I nod harshly with a hum as her tears break free once more as I think on Robbs words I wonder if she recognizes all the ways Sansa looked up to her. The way her sister felt molded by Arya's steady gaze and acidic words.

"She married a fucking southern knight after all." Arya laughs softly rolling the paper tightly in her hands.

"You did hear her." I comment thinking on Sansa's husband. Arya nods softly, undoing her work and reading the parchment once more.

"I wonder now if she wanted me to know…. That she was not alone." My tears fall once more with her words as we both fall silent. The man was being laid to rest at home. I would be able to pay respects to him once I set foot in Winterfell. For protecting her with his life.

"I wonder if we can return a raven?" Arya mutters more to herself as I fold, my legs under me. Mind playing over the words. I try to soak in the knowledge that she was happy. That she found a way to tell her sister of it even in death. It meant enough for Arya to know. I should take solace in all of this, but it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Sansa was… mine. Even if she said I was not her Jon, in so many ways she made sure that I felt just that. That I was hers, and she was mine. In delicate hands and soft laughs, she made a home where I was no longer the bastard. Even this thought I know is absurd. Arya has done the same, the entire family has done the same, Arya across from me with worried glances would die for me, this fact I know to be true. But in the darkest parts of my mind, I hoped to be the Jon Sansa searched for when her nightmares came. I wanted to be brave enough to die at her side if the time ever came. It came far too soon, and I was not there with her. I slump to the floor, intent on sleep and wonder if some part of me died with her.