authorsnote: wooo gurls and guys here we goooooo
I felt the reveal needed 2 parts and catching up with some of our favs!
I do hope you enjoy, follow/fav for updates and do leave a review to tell me watcha think!
songrecs: take me to church - hozier
Minute's pass and Sansa doesn't feel Jon is ready to move yet. She thinks he might be in shock; she probably is too, but regardless she just keeps stroking his back, holding him close, her knees going progressively numb from the snow (which she ignores), she'll endure any discomfort for Jon.
It's Jon who pulls back first, eyes wet, but she doesn't say anything, knows he wouldn't want her too, instead she winces, not quite on purpose, but she doesn't hold it in.
"Are you alright?" He asks quickly and Sansa has to smother a smile, Jon always finds it easier to play the saviour.
"Yes" She said, smoothing a hand over his cheek, "Lets go inside" He nods, and she thanks the gods for once that Jon puts her comfort first, she was sure if she'd left him to it, he'd sit in the cold for hours.
But instead, they stand, she tightens his cloak around her, loops her arm through his and leads them out of the Godswood, Jon seems to be purely following her lead, and so she grips him tight and steers them, offering a nod to those they pass but not stopping for anyone. She's quick, single minded, a destination well in mind.
The Godswood was the right place for comfort, but the cold streak in her knows they need to be a touch more practical, and so she steers them to their haven, their … Jons, seat of rule. Their solar.
And besides, the Gods remain silent now. She had almost hoped, upon Jon's revelation they would come to them; what had Jon said before?
'You will hear from us twice more, but not at your call, at ours'
She had hoped this revelation would be the call, but evidently not. Solar it was.
She steers him into there, he's following her a little like a lost puppy, and she knows it must be bad, hell she hasn't even processed it, her mind feels as though its buzzing, but it does have a singular thought – look after Jon.
She knows the only reason she isn't feeling lightheaded is because for once she needs to look after Jon, not the other way around.
It's been months of Jon pulling her close as she cries from nightmares, weeks of Jon holding her hand as she sleeps, of Ghost wrapping around her in front of the fire as she trembles. Jon has seen to it that she is comfortable at home again, that she doesn't feel alone or scared. He's taken care of her when she needed it most.
She remembers just days earlier, upon Bran's return, his words of her wedding, how it had felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest, transporting her soul back to the Capitol where she had suffered so much. Tears had fallen, she had near vomited, and yet Jon, dear Jon had calmed her, had held her, always helped her.
Now it's her turn.
Once they reach the solar, she is quick to dismiss the guards (doesn't need anyone overhearing anything), Ghost is already there, at the door as he often is, and as soon as she commands him to guard, he settles, she knows anyone trying to get in will have to face Ghost first.
She then steers Jon into his seat, pulls hers up opposite him at the desk, reaches into the bottom drawer for a bottle of eye-wateringly strong Northern whisky, pours them both a measure, and then thinks better of it and doubles it before handing Jon the glass.
"Drink" She orders, and Jon, so shocked, so out of it complies with her without a hesitation, sipping the drinks he knows will chase the heat into his belly to jolt him out of this, and she does the same, the harsh sting of it a bit much for her, but the fire it injects into her veins is what she chases.
Jon finishes his in two gulps, and then pours himself another before she's a third through hers. She doesn't fault him though, not after the news he's had, she's had.
Jon. A Targaryen.
Well, now she feels lightheaded.
Another sip of her drink, Jon swallows his down again. Silence. By the time she finishes hers Jon has had three, and then pushes the glass aside. She does the same, but doesn't say a word, the silence almost oppressive, not the comfortable ease they know, but she knows, she knows Jon needs to be the one to speak first, he needs to voice his fears, so she can determine her reassurances.
"I can't be King" He chokes out and she has to resist the urge to roll her eyes, she would of if a spike of fear didn't run through her. Jon is just the type to abdicate over something like this, to stop their … his, rule over something like this. It's not small, but Targaryen or Stark, it shouldn't take him off the Throne.
Nothing should, nothing will if it's up to her.
"Don't be stupid" She may sound harsh, but she knows sometimes Jon needs that, and now ironically is not the time to be gentle. Besides she's not good at being gentle, not anymore.
Maybe Jon is the exception to that, but not now.
"I'm not a Stark" She can see tears mist in his eyes as he speaks, and she has to stop herself running around the desk and bundling him into her arms. She knows Jon doesn't need that, not right now.
He needs her honesty.
"You are to me" She says, as she once had before, and none would doubt the sincerity in her words, even Jon managed a small smile "And besides, no one needs to know"
"Lie?" Jon asks, eyebrow raised, smile gone. He is a far better and easier liar than most Stark men, but it still comes uneasily to him, not like her.
Littlefinger taught her that lies were power, lies were a way to shape the future, vile as the man turned out to be, as she'd always known really, he'd taught her a great deal, and many of his words remained burned into her brain…
'Everyone wants something. And when you know what a man wants you know who he is, and how to move him'
'Life is not a song sweetling. Someday you may learn that, to your sorrow'
'A bag of dragons buys a man's silence for a while, but a well-placed quarrel buys it forever'
'You see the wonders that can be worked with lies and Arbor gold?'
'There is only the game. The game of thrones'
Lessons yes, and ones she still intended to follow. Littlefinger's deceit hadn't dismissed what he'd taught her, if anything it had only made her realise how much she'd need said lessons.
Play the game … as she did, as she would do for the rest of her life. She isn't the type to sit idly by, to see how things fall, not anymore, not ever again, she is a player.
She'll never be so passive as she was as a child, she'll never be that weak. She is the Lady of Winterfell, practically the Queen in the North (for now … not ever), she is Sansa Stark of Winterfell, it is not her role to be passive, and she won't ever be, not again, she is a player.
"Why does anyone need to know?" She asked, dropping her tone to a whisper as though someone could hear.
"We have our honour Sansa" Jon said, and he'd said it before, when he'd disagreed with sneaking, with deceit. In the past it had annoyed her, now she felt fear, deep fear, like ice in her heart. "This… this is too much to hide"
Even when she'd be replaced, when Jon found a Queen in place of her, as horrid as that thought had been, she had been comforted by the fact Jon would still rule, he'd still be a good King, leading them through the dark and winter. But this? The suggestion he revealed to all his heritage? It made her blood turn cold.
Would the Northerners accept him?
'It's the dragons we bowed to, and the dragons are dead' They had proclaimed as they'd put a crown on Jon's head … would they still support him when they knew not only were the dragons alive, but they had crowned one?
She didn't know, but as she looked at Jon, his gaze now on the fire, the flames dancing, she knew she'd have to make them. A lie here, a falsehood there he could do, but he was too much like a Stark to sustain one, to char his honour, it would have annoyed her, if she didn't' love him for it.
But she had less scruples now, and as she looked at him, at Jon, she knew she'd protect him, she'd make them accept him as their King.
Targaryen, Stark, Snow, she realised then, it didn't matter to her, Jon was her King, and that was what she would defend. He wouldn't accept her plan, of simply keep quiet, and she had known really that he wouldn't, he was too Stark for that, annoyingly, and so she'd have to find another way, she would.
Jon was her King, always, she'd make sure of it.
And the thought that echoed in her head, about his Queen, about how she wasn't quite ready to replace, that was easy to ignore … for now.
The cold air was foreign to her now, and she didn't quite know what to make of that.
The snow was thick here, heavy, so different to navigating the streets and canals of Essos. The House of Black and White had stood on towering steps, in air that had smelt of salt, here was completely different. Here was home.
Home for Arya Stark, no one had no home.
Even blind she'd recognised the streets of Bravos, she had dipped around the walls, had tracked the paths into the market and out, had scurried up a wall and then known her way back without checking. She had come to know the City like it was her home, like she could see and memorise every inch of it.
She didn't recognise here, not anymore, not really, and yet her heart fell full for the first time since leaving.
She nudged her horse forward, as Winterfell came into view, a smile cracked her lips, such a strange thing to her now; smiling, it ached, but it felt right whilst overlooking the great Castle of the North.
She could see the Stark banner in the distance, the flag flying high over the top tower; what she'd heard was true.
'A Stark must always be in Winterfell'
And now there was again. In her home, Arya Stark's home.
Arya Stark had grown up here, running on the walls with her brother Bran, tumbling in the snow with her other brothers Robb and Jon, throwing snowballs at her sister Sansa. Arya had ran away from guards, laughed at her brother Rickon, fallen asleep in her Fathers arms and been hugged by her Mother. Arya Stark had known love, and happiness here.
Until it had all been ripped away.
No one did not feel those things, no one felt very little but the thirst for her vengeance, to give the black god his due.
'What do we say to the god of death?'
Her list, that was no one's priority, and as she nudged the horse forward, down the snow covered hills to Winterfell, she recited it in her head.
'Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, King Joffrey, Queen Cersei. Dunsen, Poliver, Raff the Sweetling, Ser Gregor and the Tickler. And the Hound, the Hound, the Hound'
Her list could wait, for a little while, but the black god would have what was his. No one would return, in time.
There was no choice on that front, and she did entertain, what would be her choice if she had one? She knew she couldn't go back, she'd never be just Arya Stark ever again, and yet … could she be no one completely?
Needle swung at her hip, the proof of what she'd never been able to let go of. And what happened when she saw Jon? Sansa? Would she be able to go back?
She didn't have a choice, not really, Jaquen's words echoed in her head again.
'Complete your list little one, but then you come back'
No choice, and if she did have it, she knew it wouldn't be one or the other; Winterfell or the House of Black and White, Needle or the faces, Arya or no one. It would be both, which was impossible. Life often felt impossible.
But for now, Arya Stark continued on, the coldness in her lungs settling, her Stark blood acclimatising back to the North with ease, the ache in her cheeks from a foreign smile calming, the snow falling almost like it was welcoming her.
Well, this was her home.
And so, she drew up her hood and urged her horse forward, to the gates of Winterfell. Home.
Arya Stark's home.
'You could turn Kings Landing upside down and not find a single man with a mockingbird sewn over his heart, but that does not mean I am friendless'
That was true of many places.
Fleeing Winterfell had been inevitable once the Gods and their trickery had returned the Stark's to Winterfell. He wasn't even convinced it was real, how could it be? He didn't trust godly men, nor the Gods themselves if they did even exist, and yet regardless of whether it was a ploy, a trick, or the truth, he had known he'd need to run.
And run he had, with his loyal contingent of soldiers at his back. He knew taking the men of the Vale would be impossible, Sansa would have revealed his deceit by now, he felt oddly proud, if not for the anger bubbling inside of him.
He'd taught her everything, how to lie, to cheat, to smile with pretty words and sway a man, and it had all been for nought.
He had seen the way she looked at her brother, had sensed what was between them. He pitied her, she had clearly not learnt enough from him, to be taken in by such a fool, a fool who'd see her sit by his side but never as an equal.
Petyr would have made her his equal.
He still could.
It was far from over; he was known for his scheming for a reason, his reputation was the one thing that hadn't been build on falsehoods. He had plans from the letter A all the way down to Z and then back again. Eddard Stark returning complicated things yes, as well as the Stark whelps, and Cat …
He wasn't surprised to feel less for her now, she'd made her choice, and yet so had Sansa.
And yet, Cat had chosen clearly, Sansa he wouldn't be surprised had been fooled, she was hardly the player he was, not yet, but in time she could be, he'd help her, he'd forgive her, and he'd ensure she wasn't wasted rotting in the North, ruling for her brother but never receiving her due credit.
She couldn't be happy there, he was sure of it, he could make her happy, would make her happy.
He had plans, many following, and as he rode through the snow, more than ready to leave the blasted North, approaching the coast of Ramsgate where few would be looking for him, and where he knew their Lady was at Winterfell, he'd get a boat down South, to the Vale and recoup from there, his mind whirled.
No, this wasn't the end for him, nor his future with Sansa or what he had planned for them.
'With you sitting by my side…'
With a smirk he nodded to his men to continue on, to his homeland, and back to the drawing board.
sooooo thoughts?
ahhhh I enjoyed writing this! getting in the mind of littlefinger is terrifying and so much fun! he is one of my fav characters and I felt they did him SO dirty in the show (ugh what didn't they), and so expect him to get some screentime.
I do hope you enjoyed, there will be more action next chapter and a lil time skip (not much, couple o'weeks), as our bbys process, stuff will ramp up but I had to linger on this, the big targaryen reveal! did you like it?
anywho do follow/fav for updates, review and all that!
speak soon