Sansa
"Everything's prepared for our journey?" she asked, probably for the third time in as many days, just to make sure.
"Yes, everything is ready," her father assured her again, almost too patiently. A packed chest sat in the corner of his solar. "I told Robert why we're going, and what was he going to do, deny me? I hardly think so. I hope we can make it to Riverrun before Lord Tully dies, I should like to have a final word with him."
"He won you the Rebellion, didn't he?"
"Well, that's not quite why I'd like to see him, but yes, without his troops we never would have defeated the Mad King's."
"Wasn't Rhaegar already planning to overthrow his father?"
"So some say. Sansa, might we skip the history lesson for now?" He looked weary.
"Sorry."
"It's alright. I've just got a lot on my mind. Between your grandfather's illness, what I promised to tell your mother, this plot you told me about between Renly and Lord Baelish..."
"Well, as I told you, they'll wait until the queen gives birth."
"But we should try to stop them as soon as possible."
"Stop them how? You could tell the king. Otherwise there's little we can do."
"I suppose you're right. I will tell the king, but it can't be when I'm about to leave the capital. Who knows what reckless things Robert might do? For now, I suppose I should focus on more immediate matters. Your grandfather. Your mother. Jon."
"You understand why I asked it of you, don't you?"
"I know. You don't want your mother resenting Jon so much. I hope you've considered that she might resent me for all of it."
"I hope she will understand. She forgave you for supposedly violating your marriage oath, surely she can forgive you for not doing so?"
"We shall see."
"Also, it's not just about lack of resentment, Father. Her disdain for him is a large part of why he went to the Wall. But King Robert could release Jon from his oath by royal decree, couldn't he?"
"What? Sansa, no king has ever-"
"But Stannis Baratheon offered. When he was fighting Tommen for the throne, he stopped by the wall and told Jon that if he pledged loyalty to him, he would release him from his oath, legitimize him as a Stark, and name him Lord of Winterfell to preside over it for him."
"Wait, what? But that didn't happen, did it?"
"No. Jon refused him. He was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and had a duty to the realm. He didn't leave until he literally died. But it isn't fair, Father, isn't right to leave him there."
"Alright. Well, yes, as it is up to the king to deliver justice for oath breakers, I suppose in theory a king could decide to release a member. Technically, as I am Warden of the North and oversee such things in Robert's name, I could do it. But it's considered highly dishonorable, you would need a very good reason, not just that it isn't fair."
"Given that he's on the other side of the wall and has taken a wildling lover, I don't know that his honor in their eyes is the biggest issue for him at present."
"He's done what?"
"Not important. You know, I presume, that they lost many men?"
"Yes."
"They'll take a trade, surely. Men, supplies, food, in exchange for Jon."
"We can talk about it."
"Good."
"Now, we should get ready to leave. The circumstances are unfavorable, but I do look forward to seeing your mother and siblings again."
"As do I."
Arya
She always felt odd leaving her grandfather's chambers. He hardly knew who she was, being in his state of delirium, and she didn't really know what to talk about with him. She asked for stories of her mother's childhood, but he only remembered a few. And it seemed, from what she could gather, that he had been absent a fair bit when her mother was growing up. She wondered if that was part of why her mother held onto her children so closely. As she walked down the corridor, she bumped into the Blackfish.
"Hello, Uncle Brynden," she said politely.
"Ah. Hello, Arya."
He was another ghost; Sansa had told her about how he had died defending Riverrun against Jaime Lannister, refusing to be taken captive when the castle had been surrendered. She hadn't exactly known him well before, having seen him only once when she was small. But she knew he was well-admired by many. "He's gone to sleep," she informed him, as he had seemed on his way to see his brother. The old man drifted in and out of sleep these days.
"Ah." He sighed. "Very well."
She wondered what his feud with his brother had been about, and whether they had reached an understanding yet. But it seemed inappropriate to ask. Then suddenly she thought of what she could ask him. "Could you tell me stories about when my mother was a girl?"
He seemed a bit startled by that request, but said, "Of course. What would you like to know?"
"Anything. Everything. Was she like me?"
"Ah." He smiled a little. "In some ways. Mind you, she never trained with a blade. Edmure told me you're quite good."
She beamed. "Glad he said so. And yes, that I know."
"She was feisty like you, when she was very little. She was always headstrong. But after her mother died, when she became the lady of the house, she had to become much more dutiful. She was only a child herself, but she became like a mother to her siblings. In charge of so much, and so young. I always admired her resolve, but I did wish it could be different for her."
Arya pondered that. She knew her grandmother had died when her mother was young, but she hadn't thought much about what that meant for her mother. The idea that she had been less constrained by duty, had been pushed into it at such a young age, made Arya wish things could have been different too. "What did she do for fun?"
"What does she do for fun now?"
"I don't know." She had never really considered it before. What things brought her mother joy, other than her family? Surely she must have some interests of her own.
"Maybe you should talk to her, then."
"Hmm. Maybe I should."
She headed off towards her mother's chambers. A servant was conversing with her, and Arya entered as she left. "What was that about?"
"Your father and Sansa should be here in two days' time. Jory and ten men are with them, but they've left most of the household down in King's Landing."
Arya nodded. "It'll be good to see them."
"Yes." But she seemed distracted.
"Are you... alright, Mother?"
She frowned in surprise. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you don't seem to be."
"You needn't worry about me, Arya. I'm your mother. I'm supposed to do the worrying."
"I know. But you can talk to me, you know."
She looked at her for a moment. "I mean, I'm really mostly alright, given the circumstances." She was silent for a moment. "When my father used to ride off, he would tell me to look out the window and wait for him to return. I would spend hours there sometimes. He confided in me. He favored me, too, over Lysa and Edmure. He tried to deny it, I tried to pretend otherwise, but it was true. Lysa certainly knew it."
"That's why she isn't here?"
"That, and... well, he isn't a perfect man, Arya. He did some things to her that... well, if your father had done them to you I would never have forgiven him."
"What do you mean?"
"Among other things, he married her to a man in his sixties when she was sixteen, and while I do believe Lord Arryn was a good and honorable man, it's certainly not what Lysa had in mind."
"No, she wanted Petyr Baelish."
She was silent for another moment. "You said he married her and killed her, in the other timeline. Because she tried to kill Sansa? She was jealous of Sansa, you said?"
"Yes."
Catelyn sighed. "I wonder if there's any hope of reaching out to her."
"I don't know," Arya said. "But you should try. Family's worth it."
Her mother smiled. "Family, duty, honor. Those are the Tully house words."
"I do look forward to Father and Sansa's arrival. I believe we have much to discuss with them."
"That we most certainly do."
Sansa
When they rode up to the gates of Riverrun, Sansa couldn't help but smile. Lady ran ahead of her horse, circling the trees. The nature was lovely here. She had been told at times that she had the disposition of a Southerner, like Mother, and while she did consider herself fully a woman of the North, she couldn't deny the beauty the more temperate climate brought.
"I haven't been here in a long time," her father said. "Not since..."
"Your wedding?" When they had visited as children, they had always gone with only their mother, their father of course having to stay behind to run the North.
He nodded. "Just after the Battle of the Bells. I'd never even met your mother."
"What did you think of her, when you met?"
"Honestly, I didn't think much of anything. We were in the middle of a war, and she'd been engaged to Brandon, and I was marrying her in his stead. I was trying not to think about it."
"But you fell in love."
"Yes. But not then. Not until after the war, back at Winterfell."
"You've never told us that story."
He smiled. "Remind me some time, and I will."
The gates opened, and Sansa caught her breath. There they were, her mother, Bran, Arya, and Rickon, standing with Uncle Edmure and the Blackfish. She almost leaped off her horse and ran to her mother. "Mother!"
"Sansa." Her mother embraced her, and she felt like she truly was a little girl again. "It's so good to see you."
Beside them, Father had lifted Arya into the air, which she would never have let most people do. She was beaming when he set her down, and Sansa gave her a hug too.
"Lord Stark," Uncle Edmure said. "Good to see you again."
"You as well, Edmure." But all his attention was on Mother. When they embraced, a wave of energy seemed to radiate across the grounds. They even kissed, which was something they never did in public.
"Ned," she said, her eyes tearing up. "It's so good to see you."
"And you, my lady."
Sansa wondered if her reaction was in part because she knew, knew that in another timeline he hadn't lived to see this moment. She turned her attention to the Blackfish, curtsying slightly. "Uncle Brynden."
"Sansa. Look at you. All grown up."
Rickon shoved himself in between Mother and Father, and Father picked him up with a grin. This moment, Sansa decided, this moment she would make sure to remember, to cherish as long as she lived.
The mood was brought down quickly. The maester headed over to them. "Sorry to interrupt..."
"What is it?" Edmure asked, face falling. "Has he...?"
"Not yet," the maester replied. "But very soon. Hours, probably. A day at most. I'm sorry."
Mother's expression turned dark as well. "Thank you for telling us."
"I'd like to see him," Father said. "If that's alright."
Mother nodded. "Let's go."
They walked away, and Sansa turned her attention to Bran, who had been rather quiet. "Brandon Stark," she mused. "What are we going to do with you?"
"Hey," he protested. "We've come to an understanding, Arya and me."
"It's true," Arya said. "Why don't we go somewhere more, er, private?"
So they did, heading to Arya's chambers, and she and Bran explained.
"You can really give Jon back his memories?"
"I think so."
"Good. Because I've spoken to Father about getting him freed from the Wall, I'm just waiting on the last piece of that puzzle."
"Him telling Mother the truth."
"Exactly. He said he would do it tonight."
"It's going to change everything," Arya said.
"Hopefully, for the better."
"Hopefully."
"Alright, then," Sansa said. "What's been going on up north? I want to know everything."
"Same with you," her sister replied. "Tell me your story."
And so they spent the rest of the afternoon exchanging tales of their past year and a half, until a servant called them down for dinner.
