Am I my Brother's Keeper, Yes I Am

by Alperez16

A different choice after the Battle of the Bastards brings another Stark back from the dead. Together with his brother how does Rickon Stark's living change the Game and what do another King in the North and his bastard brother mean in regards to the return of House Targaryen. An idea suggested by my good friend and co-writer Leilani972 that I just couldn't resist jumping on board

11. To Kill a Mockingbird

Winterfell 303 AC.

Davos.

Jon's return to Winterfell couldn't have happened at a better time and Davos thanked the Seven for it. He'd done what little he could to try and get Sansa Stark to see that sending the Free Folk away would not go down well with the Lords of the North. Had reminded her that once the king awoke and Jon returned, they too would take serious issue with her for agreeing to such. Yet she'd not listened to his counsel and had instead dismissed his concerns as if he or they mattered not. He felt for the girl, truly he did. No one should go through all she had, yet at times he found her to be incredibly frustrating to deal with and both arrogant and obtuse.

That he'd not truly forgiven her for keeping secret the Knights of the Vale from them before the Battle of the Bastards, was something that he'd had to fight down at times when dealing with her. Davos knew full well that had they known they could call upon such a force for the battle, then their tactics would have been much different and lives would have been spared that had been lost. Was it not for how he felt about the King and Jon Snow, then he'd not have been so easily able to put his feelings to one side in this regard. Then again, how he felt about Jon Snow allowed him to do the same with someone he had much larger issues with than Sansa Stark.

He was glad that Melisandre had not returned with Jon from the South. A part of him hoped that the woman had met her end and yet did not believe that she had. Brandon Stark's words had taken hold of a part of his heart and he knew that he and Jon needed to speak so he could find the truth in them. Princess Shireen deserved justice, she deserved to be avenged and he was the only man who could see it done, the only person left alive in the world who had cared for the sweet girl that Shireen had been. That though was a problem for another day, today's problems were right in front of him as Northmen and women rejoiced and Vale Knights grew ever more agitated and prickly.

"I'll not be talked to by a bastard that way." one Vale knight called out loudly.

"Then go speak to Jon Snow and name him such, but make sure you bring your sword with you for the White Wolf will be sure to feast on your pitiful corpse when you do so." a Stark Guard shouted out to loud laughter.

"We do not have to listen to the likes of you." another Vale knight said and Davos moved quickly between the man, his friends, and the Northern guards who had joined him to even the numbers.

"For Fuck's Sake! Are you children or what? The Dead march our way and you argue over some harsh words. You heard what Lord Snow said, his voice is the voice of the King in the North, and to name him a bastard is to insult a King's Regent and so a King. Think carefully before you speak in such a way again." he said, chiding the Vale knight before then turning to the Stark Guard "And you, the Knights of the Vale have come to offer us their aid, they've accepted guest rights and should be treated accordingly." he said. "And that goes for the fucking rest of you too."

It would do little good, he knew it, the Knights of the Vale knew it and the Northerners knew it. The White Wolf had spoken most harshly to men who saw themselves as better than he and their pride had been hurt. Though given how proud they were, that was a good thing. What wasn't was that because they had lorded it over the North because of words spoken by Brandon Stark, they were now being lorded over in return because of words spoken by Jon Snow. Only one of those two men's words carrying any weight now, Davos felt.

Davos poured himself an ale and moved to speak to the Northern Lords and tried not to look at the group of Vale knights who were glaring at him and them. Lord Royce and some others had joined Littlefinger and Sansa Stark when they'd left the room and there was no one to keep the rest of the Valemen in order. While the Northmen would poke and prod and make light of all the Knights of the Vale had done, they'd not actually start something. He wasn't sure he could say the same for the prickly knights. Especially without those in charge of them here to keep them in line.

"Thank the fucking Old Gods." Rickard Ryswell said as he drank down a mug of ale.

"The Jon speaks for The Rickon." Morgan Liddle said loudly.

"A true wolf that one." Barbrey Dustin added almost giddily.

"Ah, Ser Davos, join us." Wyman Manderly said and Davos took a seat beside them "We were just saying how good it is that Jon Snow has returned when he did, Ser Davos. I feared that the meeting may not have had a pleasant end had he not. He's gone to see his brother?" Wyman asked.

"Aye, I'd imagine so." he said, taking a swallow of his ale.

"The Free Folk, Davos, they'll stay now that Jon Snow has returned?" Ned Umber asked, the young lad sitting with Lyanna Mormont and some of the younger lords, ladies, and heirs.

"They'll stay. They name him King Crow, Say he can't be killed." Lyanna Mormont said and Davos chuckled causing the girl to glare at him.

"He fucking tries to get himself killed often enough, mayhap they're right." he said with a laugh.

"Those wounds, Ser Davos. By the Seven I'd not. I've seen his grace's wound where the arrow hit, but compared to those…I…"

"The traitors who gave him them are dead, Lord Manderly. Killed by Jon's own hands and though I hold no faith in R'hllor, I thank him that he brought Jon back. In what we've got to face there is no man better suited to see us through."

"Aye, but what then?" Barbrey Dustin said.

"My lady?"

"What happens after the battle, Davos. What is to become of the North once we win?" she said and let her words sit for a moment.

"You're so sure we'll win, sister mine." Rickard Ryswell snorted.

"I believe we will, aye. But that's not my reason for asking it so, I know what happens should we lose. There are no reasons to speak the words, we win or we die, brother, it's that fucking simple." Barbrey said angrily.

"Barbrey speaks true, as always. Given what Jon Snow said, the war in the south is over and the Dragon Queen will soon look North. You believe she'll come as his and our ally, Ser Davos?" Wyman asked and all the eyes nearest to them looked at him.

He paused before answering, feeling his throat dry and his tongue-tied. Taking the largest swallow from his mug yet, he let the cool liquid pool in his mouth for a little bit before drinking it down.

"The Queen said that she'd come to an agreement with Jon, his aid in the war in the South and she'd aid us in the war against the dead. Some people don't hold true to their words, we all know that and have suffered from it to our cost. I find myself having faith that Daenerys Targaryen will. Jon Snow helped her win the war and you heard him speak here, should the Vale decide to fight against her, he'll fight with her because it would mean his word has not yet been proved true. She'll come, she'll fight by our sides and together, we'll win or we'll die as Lady Dustin said so well." Davos said and he saw relieved looks and then not so as the full extent of his words sank in.

A choice would need to be made once the battle was won. An independent North may be what they want and believe they deserve but Davos didn't believe that Daenerys Targaryen had come to be the queen of six kingdoms. Were they to fight against her for that independence, then he didn't think that even Jon Snow could lead them to victory. Though there were other ways to bring kingdoms together other than war or capitulation.

Even though he'd not seen much of the Queen and Jon together when they had come to Winterfell, he'd seen enough to know they made a striking couple. They seemed to share an attraction to each other too, given the way they looked at each other at times. Were Rickon older, then perhaps a match could be made between him and the queen. Though if he was right and there was something between Jon and the Dragon Queen, then perhaps that was the match the North should seek to make. A good Queen and King sitting on the Iron Throne, Dragon Blood and Wolf's Blood united, what a tale that would be.

"Ser Davos?" Wyman said, taking him from his thoughts.

"Forgive me, my lord."

"We were speaking of the North and what's to come next, Ser Davos." Lady Barbrey said.

"Perhaps it's Jon Snow you should speak to, Lady Dustin. I'm sure he could tell you more about the Queen's plans than I."

"Aye, you have the right of it, Davos. I say we request a meeting with Jon Snow, as soon as possible." Lyanna Mormont said and Davos wondered what he'd gotten the lad into now.

Winterfell 303 AC.

Rickon Stark.

He felt so weak when he opened his eyes that he almost believed he was in the wrong body. His head was spinning and he had a hard time focusing on his surroundings, but he soon realized that he was back in his room and he struggled to sit straight in his bed.

He closed his eyes and was about to check on Ghost when the door opened and a flow of people swarmed into his room. He winced but laughed heartily when Tormund took him in his arms while cursing him for scaring him so, then smiled sheepishly at a visibly annoyed Lyanna Mormont.

"What happened to you?" she asked concernedly.

"You would not believe me if I told you." he said, his throat raspy and hurting from days without uttering a sound. "But I am back now, and I am sorry for leaving you alone to deal with things without me."

"You fucking… Do you know what you put us through, Your Grace?" she spat, but he smiled to see how relieved she actually was.

"I have a vague idea. I'm really sorry. To all of you." he said, noticing some other Lords and Ladies present in the room.

"By my right as a council member, I order you to not pull another stunt like this, or I will take your Crown and declare myself Queen in the North myself." Lyanna said only half japing.

"And you would make a fine Queen I'm certain. Let us make it in writing, shall we?" Lyanna blushed while the people around them chuckled and mumbled things about a betrothal and he stumbled over his words when he realized what it looked like. "This is not a proposal or courting, I swear."

"I should kill you, King Rickon Stark, for putting me in this position, but you're lucky I tolerate you enough to let you live."

"We should let him rest," Alys Karstark declared and he frowned.

"Wait. Where's Jon? I'm sure I've heard him talk to me. Did I…"

It was a strange thing to feel someone before you could actually see them, and Rickon briefly wondered if it was because of his connection to Ghost and Nymeria that he was able to, but it didn't matter in the end. As soon as they crossed the threshold he knew it. He didn't need to look at them to know they were out of breath and that Arya had been crying.

"Do not. Ever! Dare scaring us like that again!" his sister said to him before rushing to his side and embracing him, but his eyes were fixed on his brother.

Jon was there. He was back. His presence was not a fragment of his imagination. As he took him in though it was clear that something had changed in him. For a moment he'd considered the change had come from his side, from his feelings about what he had learned about Jon's parentage, but his heart clenched in pain and made him think otherwise.

"Brother," he said, his voice full of conflicting emotions, and he couldn't keep his tears at bay as he saw Jon flinch.

Jon's smile was a sad one, not the whole and true one he'd seen when he was at Dragonstone with Daenerys Targaryen. Did he miss her? Was he sad that he had to come back to him? Was Bran right? Had Jon already chosen her and so was his fate sealed?

"His Grace needs some time with his family," Lyanna declared and he was so grateful for her words. So he swore that he would find a way to thank her and make it up to her properly.

Arya was not letting go of him however, his sister was checking every single part of his body to see if he was hurting or injured.

"You are forbidden to enter the Godswood from now on, do you hear me?" she growled and he chuckled.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Sister. I swear I am, but it needed to be done." he said, his eyes still fixing Jon who had now walked toward his bed. "I saw you, Jon. I saw you at Dragonstone."

Jon shuddered and took Rickon's hand in his, its warmth as comforting as he remembered.

"I felt you there…" Jon said, his eyes glistening with tears. "Were you…"

"In the hawk. Aye."

"Are you well? I saw…"

"All is well, Jon. I got out in time."

"Thank the Gods! If you… If something… I wouldn't forgive myself…" Jon said and the tremble in his voice and the way he looked at him proved his words true.

"What in the seven hells are you both talking about?" Arya asked, obviously confused.

"Our dear brother here is a warg," Jon said, smiling a little more truly than before, and Rickon could feel some pride in his brother's voice, as well as relief from his part at being called so.

"I traveled a lot, sister. First I was inside Ghost, then we felt that Jon was in danger and I shared Unicorn's body. With him, we arrived in Greywater Watch and I saw Howland and Meera Reed, they helped me control it, and then I traveled some more. I was a lizard lion, then I was an eagle, then a deer and a hawk… Then the dragon killed the hawk and I had to come back, but not before seeing Nymeria. She's coming home with her pack, Arya. She said to tell you she will be here soon." he talked excitedly, ignoring her worried looks until he couldn't take her silence anymore. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"I think you went somewhere, but…"

"When Nymeria arrives you will feel sorry you didn't believe me." he cut her off, offended.

"He's telling the truth, Arya." Jon said, to Rickon's relief. "I felt him when I was in Dragonstone, and I… I saw you both through Ghost's eyes." Jon's voice caught in his throat as Ghost put his head on Rickon's lap "I'm sorry, I should have been here. I would have been here sooner, but when we finally won against Cersei, I…" he could see Jon struggling to let the words out and felt a pang in his chest as he remembered his brother's smile, his happiness when he had embraced the Dragon Queen.

Rickon's heart broke at the thought that his brother had felt obligated to come back. That had he not sworn an oath to him, he would have preferred to stay with her and her dragons. It hurt him a lot, but not as much as seeing the pain in Jon's eyes, so he pressed his hand with his own and tried to smile.

"I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for both of you," Jon said and Rickon frowned. "I was ambushed, not by the Queen and her men!" he added when he saw Arya about to react. "Someone tried to kill me. It was my friend, Sam, or rather it was someone wearing his face."

Arya's gasping echoed Rickon's at that moment. Both were stunned and worried at the news but then Jon quickly reassured them.

"I felt it. I felt he was not who he claimed he was and your warning resonated within me." Jon said, looking at them both.

"Did you kill them? Did they flee? How are you still alive?" Arya asked worriedly.

"They were killed, but not by me. Were it not for Rhaegal, I would have lost my life." Jon wore an odd smile on his face when he said the name and Rickon wondered who this Rhaegal was and how he could thank them, so he asked Jon to tell him who he was speaking of.

"Rhaegal?"

"One of the Queen's dragons. He protected me and saved my life. I was unconscious for days though, and that's when I saw you through Ghost's eyes."

"Not that I'm not grateful for his help, but… Why did the Queen's Dragon protect you?" Arya frowned and the way Jon's whole body closed off made Rickon shiver.

He knows. Oh, By the Old Gods, he knows.

"Arya, I'm hungry. Would you be so kind as to bring me something to eat?" he asked suddenly, hoping his sister would get his meaning and allow him a private moment with Jon.

"Since when have you become so polite?" she frowned.

"Since fucking now! So fucking bring me something to eat, now, please!" he replied impatiently.

Arya complied, not before mumbling about ungrateful brats and making Rickon smile at her antics. When they were finally alone, he turned to Jon and used their clasped hands to pull his brother to him, thankful that Jon moved along his gesture for he wasn't sure he would be strong enough to do it by himself.

"I'm glad you came back…" he whispered.

"I made you a promise. I'm sorry I wasn't able to be there sooner. You needed me and I wasn't here for you." Jon said and Rickon wanted so much to believe him.

"You came back, brother. Nymeria said you would."

"You doubted me?" Jon gasped, detaching himself from Rickon as if he had struck him.

"I saw you, Jon. I saw how happy you were and you didn't seem to miss me. Not like I missed you."

"Oh, Rickon… I wish I could explain… I wish I could tell you all that I feel right now, but I don't want things to change between us. All I can say right now is that I love you. So… So much, little brother. And I never want you to doubt this. You will always be my brother whom I love with all my heart." Rickon could feel how conflicted Jon was and while part of him was still doubtful because of what he saw, he also wanted to console him. After all, he was there with him.

"And you'll always be mine, brother. No matter your blood."

Jon's gaze turned from apologetic to horrified as he understood the meaning beyond Rickon's words.

"You…"

"Heard things about you, Aye, I did."

"How?"

"Bran… He told me everything he knew. About your birth."

"And he didn't see fit to tell it to me? The concerned one? Who else did he tell?" Jon asked as he started pacing.

"Only me, brother. Only me."

"Is that why you were… Why you warged to see me?" Jon's anger was palpable and Rickon knew it would only get worse when he would explain what had happened that day.

"Not quite. I didn't believe it at first, and then I felt so angry he would do this to me. He… Told me that I should be the one telling you about your origins because he saw you choosing your other family instead of us."

"So he played another of his mind games that you warned me about, this time on you?" Jon's pacing intensified as Rickon nodded. "What in the Seven Hells is wrong with him? What is he playing at? And why the fuck didn't he tell me?"

"There's more, Jon. There's more and I fear for all of our family since it happened."

"Davos sent me word of an incident..." Jon started, his icy tone making Rickon shake his head.

"It… I reacted badly when he told me. He kept calling you our cousin but you're not, you're not. You'll always be my brother, you hear me, Jon? Always!" he insisted and saw Jon smile with relief. "I don't fucking care who sired you. You're the only one who never gave up on me and I will never give up on you. And to hear him speak about you so unemotionally, so detached when the words he said were killing me... It made me explode and so I punched him. I hurt him and I initiated the fight, I know I shouldn't have, but… The way he responded to it…" the words were hurried by the end, Rickon feeling his emotions rise, and yet compared to the look on Jon's face, he was unemotional. His brother's anger was clear in his expression and then his words.

"What happened? What did he fucking do?"

"He sent a flock of ravens to attack me." Rickon answered, almost reluctantly.

Jon's steely eyes were full of rage and for a moment, he felt unsure of continuing his tale. He didn't want Jon to confront Bran, not without knowing how their other brother would react.

"I've never seen something like this, Jon. I knew he was a warg. I knew it, but he attacked me while controlling a whole damn flock of ravens! If Ghost hadn't been there, if he hadn't stopped him, I... "

"Did he do it deliberately? Tell me he didn't, because I swear to the Gods..." Jon almost growled.

"He said he didn't but I don't believe him. I… ever since it happened, I've felt him nearby. I felt his presence every time I was sharing the mind of an animal. As if he was watching my every move and warning me not to do anything stupid. There was always a raven nearby. And I think… Nevermind." He did not want to say out loud that he had feared Bran had entered the dragon's mind to kill him, but his suspicion was strong. Why he kept protecting Bran was beyond himself, unless it was truly Jon that he was trying to protect?

Jon didn't seem to know how to respond, but he could see that his older brother was steaming in fury.

"You are bound to Ghost, now. Aren't you?" Rickon asked and he nodded. "Talk to him. Let his instincts guide you and you will see why I cannot trust Bran."

"I will. I have to talk to him to understand why he thought it would be a better idea to tell you about me before I knew." Jon said through clenched teeth.

"I don't want you to. We need to be careful with him, Jon. He was also the one to tell Sansa to take the lead when you weren't there, saying it was because we needed the Vale forces." Rickon added, seeing his brother getting angrier. "I was in Ghost, I heard everything. Sansa didn't want to take over. She confided in me thinking I was Ghost. I don't know what happened next but I guess Bran's words forced her hand on it. Just like he did to you when you had to leave."

"I really have to talk to him." Jon said with a resolute nod.

"Aye, but first, I want to know how you feel." Rickon said, surprising Jon. "Do you want to talk about…"

"Not now. I feel relieved that I don't have to hide it from you, that you consider me your brother still. I don't want to… This… To change anything between you and me. But Sansa and Arya… The Lords of the North… The rest of the realm… Daenerys… I do not know how they'll react to this and it could very well be something detrimental to us..."

"Fuck them all, brother. Really. Your name doesn't change who you are, who you fight for, and who you love unless you let it change you. Do not let it change you." Rickon insisted.

"Do you… Do you know my name? My real one?" He asked almost timidly and Rickon shook his head. "Your father, Lord Stark hid it from me and I fear I might never know how my mother named me."

"If I'm still your brother, isn't Father -"

"That's not the same, Rickon. He lied to me and that is something I cannot forgive so easily, something I don't want to forgive, for now at least."

"Then don't. I won't forgive Bran for telling me, so I won't hold it against you if you hate Father at this point. As long as you still see us as your Pack, I don't fucking care about the rest. You do, do you?"

"I will never stop seeing you as my brother, I swear." the look his brother gave him was even truer than his words, Rickon felt.

"What do you want to do? Do you want us to tell the others?"

"No, not before I've talked to Dany. And to Arya." Jon said firmly before sighing loudly, all trace of certainty now gone from his face. "I... I do not think it would be a good idea to talk about this to anyone else before the war against the Dead. I fear it will bring too much turmoil, too many questions that we will not be able to answer… There is already so much dissension, and I feel…"

"We will do as you wish, Jon. I personally don't care about it, but it is your story to tell. You'll talk about it when you think it best."

"I'm… The repercussions on the realm would be too much to bear. People have been told for years that the Rebellion… That my mother… People died because of it, because they have been lied to, and a lot of them will not perceive the truth of my birth as a good thing."

"You fear they will be offended? By who you are? Or that they will use it against you?"

"More against Dany. Look at how the Knights of the Vale reacted to her winning the war against Cersei Lannister. They think her a foreign invader, still. I do not know how she will react to that truth either."

"You love her," Rickon said, his heart clenching once more as he could feel his brother's distress. The way Jon looked at him while being unable to voice his feelings made the truth even more clear to him.

"There are so many things going on in my head right now… What if she hates me? What if Arya decides I'm not her brother anymore? What if Sansa… No, I cannot trust Sansa with this. I want to know the truth, about my parents, about myself, but I don't want my truth to change anything and yet I know it will. For now, I'm just trying to understand why we've been lied to all of our lives."

"Speaking about Sansa, where is she?" Rickon frowned.

"Probably with Littlefinger and the Knights of the Vale," Jon answered harshly. "I will need to talk to her as well. What she did when you were… It's unacceptable."

"Don't get me wrong, if I had the strength right now, I would tell her to get her act together. She's not been the best sister to any of us, but when I was in Ghost… I saw how broken she was…" Rickon said softly.

"That doesn't fucking excuse everything, Brother. We tried to understand her, we tried to keep her involved, and look what happened! She almost cost us the Free Folk's help with her bowing down in front of the South!"

Rickon was about to retort that Jon had also bowed down to a Southern force, but he knew it would get them nowhere.

"Then we don't let her be involved anymore, but we don't turn our backs on her. She's family. She is! She was at my side even when Arya gave her a hard time for it. She has lost her way, and I'm not against punishment for what she did, but I will not throw her out of the Pack."

"She needs to step away from any political involvement regarding the North." Jon said leaving no room for doubt.

"I agree."

"If she doesn't -"

"Then we will force her to do so." Rickon answered resolutely.

"Littlefinger?"

"I've fucking had it with that fucker."

"Good." Jon smiled wolfishly.

They got interrupted with a knock and he saw Arya walking back into the room with two servants carrying a huge pot of stew that was placed in front of the roaring fire.

"Rabbit stew. Great!" Rickon smiled brightly while his sister rolled her eyes.

"That's all we have for now. With winter here, we have to make a lot of concessions, your grace." Arya explained smirking at him and he was happy to see her so carefree.

"That's perfect. Truly. Rabbit stew is my favorite. It reminds me of Osha." Rickon said.

"It's better than the one we had at the Wall." Jon chimed in.

"You know there will be a celebration for your waking up and your arrival, right?" Arya said, looking at him as she filled a bowl and handed it to him.

"No celebrations!" Rickon and Jon said in concert, laughing when they saw their sister's smirk grow larger.

They ate and talked, the three of them, catching up about things they had missed and things that they needed to know about the South. Rickon was sad to see Arya refusing to send for Sansa, but he didn't push it much. He was more than happy to simply spend some time with two members of his pack.

Winterfell, 303 AC.

Sansa Stark.

"This is unacceptable!"

"The Gall of the Bastard!"

"We need to do something about it, and now, my Lady." Lord Royce demanded.

"Jon is the King's true Regent, my Lord." Sansa replied, trying to keep her relief to herself. "The Lords of the North will follow his lead and there's nothing I can do about it."

"We've named you Regent, Lady Sansa."

"And I thank you for your support, but I told you I would not usurp my brother. Now that he's back, I have no right to intervene in his choices. Moreover, it looks like the Lords of the North were already trying to depose me as King Rickon's Regent. Do you truly think they will listen to me now?"

"This is preposterous! You cannot possibly be willing to follow another abomination -" Lord Royce said and she interrupted him before he could finish.

"Did you just say 'another abomination', Lord Royce? I hope for your sake that you are not talking about King Rickon and Jon Snow when you so candidly use such terms!" Sansa cut him off, her voice as frosty as the simmering rage she felt that instant.

"My Lady, have you seen those scars? Have you heard what he's said?" Lyn Corbray intervened. "This is unnatural and wrong on so many levels. The Gods -"

"If the Gods minded, Lord Corbray, then my brothers would not be alive as we speak. It is a blessing, two blessings that they have bestowed upon us so we could prepare for what is to come."

"You cannot be serious? As a follower of the Seven, to see this as anything but dark magic -"

"You better not end this sentence, my Lord. Another insult to one of my kin and any protection and guest rights you benefit from will be revoked. I understand that you're not pleased by the outcome of this meeting and I'm deeply sorry for the inconvenience. Now that the Regent, the rightful one has spoken and has been clear in his statements we must abide by his wishes. And given what he said earlier about Daenerys Targaryen winning the war, I think you have other matters to discuss than the presence of the Free Folk in the North. Lord Baelish?" Sansa said, looking to Littlefinger.

"Lady Sansa?"

"I trust you to talk to your Lords and to make them see reason. We all need clearer heads to talk about the future, be it of the North or the Vale. I find myself exhausted and in need of some calm. With your leave…"

She didn't wait for any of them to answer and walked away, ignoring the shouts of indignation of Yohn Royce and the muffled insults of Lyn Corbray. She could see that Littlefinger was angry, that he hadn't counted on Jon arriving and opposing him, but she didn't care. She was free from the Vale's influence, and she could breathe again, at least for the moment.

She knew she would have to face Jon soon, and she feared that she would not be able to make him understand her actions or perspective. Part of her hoped that his time in the South would have shown him just how duplicitous people could be and how they needed to be more cunning if they wanted to stand a chance against them. She did what she could to keep the Lords of the Vale there, against the opinions of almost everyone that she cared about. She did so because Bran had told her so and she trusted him. As she walked to her rooms and her gaze locked with the Hound's disappointed one, she was reminded of their last talk before she had started avoiding him.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he asked as he caught her after her visit to see Rickon.

"What do you mean?"

"You're letting the knights of the fucking Vale walk all over you and use you? Fucking Littlefinger? And for what?" his angry tone was something she remembered from King's Landing, though if anything it seemed he was angrier now for some reason.

"Bran said,"

"You're going against your fucking King's wishes. Do you want your fucking sister to fucking kill you? Because make no mistake, I know a fucking murderer when I see one and she's one of them!"

"We need the Vale if we want to survive. Bran -"

"Forget about your fucking brother! Do you fear Littlefinger that much? If he's threatening you, I can -"

"He saved me more than once. More than you did!" she knew she was being unfair to him, that he had tried once and she had rebuffed him, but she couldn't let him get into her head. Not when she needed to stay strong and firm.

The look he'd given her then, similar to the one he was giving her now, had broken her heart and hurt her still. She wanted to go to him, to tell him that she was sorry for having pushed him away, but instead, she shook her head and went to her room. She was feeling emotionally drained and knew that it was only the beginning of what was to be an awful day.

She was prepared when Jon came to her, she had thought he would come sooner but she had been waiting for him. The fact that he was coming so late, not caring if she would be presentable or sleeping, told her that she needed to brace herself for a hard scolding. He might have already listened to all the Lords, Ladies, and the men and women of the Free Folk's recrimination against her.

"Before you start berating me, I…" she began only for Jon to not allow her to continue.

"No, Sansa. You do not get to say anything before I tell you so." he stopped her and she felt offended by the way he talked to her.

She knew she was in the wrong, but still, it hurt her to see her brother look at her with such disdain in his eyes.

"I do not know what to make of you. Truly. I wanted to trust you, to give you another chance after betraying me and the North during the battle for Winterfell. Every single time you tried to undermine Rickon or to steer him in the wrong direction, I tried to find excuses for you. You were raised as a Southern lady, you would truly learn how to become a Northern one with time, you would see how well Rickon's leadership had been received and you would fully support him. What in the Seven Hells possessed you to give a seat to a fucking Valeman on a Northern Council?"

"Bran said -"

"For fuck's sake, Sansa! You know damn well this has nothing to do with Bran! You wanted to name Royce as soon as Rickon accepted your idea of a Council! You wanted someone to agree with you because you knew you would not get your say in how the North would be ruled."

"Because you and Rickon wouldn't listen to me, but -"

"And why do you think we didn't? Because you wanted to impose on us Southern leadership. A freaking council like the small council of the South. Thank the Gods that those Rickon picked are not as cunning and duplicitous as Littlefinger and his kind! A bunch of selfish fucks who only want a power they do not deserve and who wish to rise higher than they should ever be allowed to! When Arya told us what they demanded, what you accepted on behalf of Rickon… You've made a lot of people angry, Sansa."

"I know and I am willing to accept whatever punishment you deem necessary," she said, making Jon frown.

"Is this a mummery? A ruse to soften my heart so you would get away with this?"

"I deserved that," she mumbled, deeply hurt by his words. "I was trying to buy us time, to make the Knights of the Vale stay longer, at least until your return, because Bran said that we would not win without them."

"Did you have to turn the whole North against you to do so? Was it worth it?"

"I did what I had to do with the weapons I had. I am not a soldier like you or an assassin like Arya. Politics is what I know best. Playing the game of the south is what I know." she retorted.

"You're hardly a good player of even that game, Sansa. Littlefinger has had you doing his bidding for how long, now? Marrying Ramsay, spitting on Robb and your mother's memory, on all the northern lives lost during the Red Wedding? He should have been dead. You should have killed him long ago for what he did to you. This would have been the way of the North. Like you did when you fed Ramsay to his dogs. Yet he is still breathing because you allowed him to, for what? The only thing I can say is that you're lucky our little brother believes that you have been manipulated."

"Rickon? Rickon said that? He is awake?" she said, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

"He is resting at the moment, but aye, he is."

"He is well? Truly?"

"Aye, sister, he is." Jon said, putting a hand on her shoulder, the first contact they had since he came back.

"Thank the Gods…" she cried, and she could feel her brother's hold on her relax. "I'm relieved he's better, and… I am glad you came back safe and sound as well."

He nodded and took one step away from her, though the distance between them seemed bigger to Sansa.

"As I said, Rickon is convinced you didn't mean any harm, that your views are twisted by your links with Littlefinger and... " he shook his head and she frowned, confused. "This is why we decided to pull you away from the Council. You are not to be involved in any political matters as of now. If you refuse to comply, if we hear anything about you trying to mess with the North again, then…"

"You will make me leave?" she asked fearfully.

"This is not something we want to do, Sansa. But at this point, this is the only choice you have. Either you follow and support Rickon as you should, or you leave with your Southern friends."

"Does Rickon know about this? That you want to throw away his sister from her home?" She asked angrily.

"You can ask him if you want. Contrary to you, Sansa, I am always upfront with what I say and I never hide anything from my King or my family."

His words were like a knife jabbing at her heart and she collapsed on her bed, still in shock from his ultimatum. Of course, she understood their position and she knew that if she was not a member of their family, then she would have already been exiled from the North or worse. As to her horror, they thought her a traitor to their cause, and the only thing preventing them from taking her head would be that they would not want to become kinslayers. She would have done the same if Jon had been the one to commit such a crime, but that didn't make it any less hurtful.

"The choice is yours, Sister. I truly pray you would prove me wrong this time and that Rickon is right in believing in you." Jon said, lingering on the threshold and giving her a look that seemed almost pleading.

She nodded as her brother's last words gave her hope. He seemed willing to give her a second chance, as was Rickon, and their proposal would free her from whatever hold the Vale had on her. There were things she needed to say to Jon, to Rickon. Things she wasn't proud about but still needed to confess so she would start over in building a relationship with them. But she was too exhausted by her confrontation with Jon to do anything for the moment.

She woke up later with resolve and renewed faith. The path she had chosen would be tumultuous, to say the least, but she was set on making it happen. She hoped Jon was right and that Rickon truly believed in her, and the determination it gave her to talk to her King about her decision was immense.

Before she could go to her brother, however, the past she was determined to let go of proved itself unwilling to leave her alone. As soon as she opened the door, she came face to face with the ominous-looking Littlefinger, accompanied by Lyn Corbray.

"You and I need to talk, Sansa." Baelish said sternly.

"Can't this wait? I was -"

"No. For too long I waited, way longer than someone like me should have been expected to. We need to talk and we need to do it right now."

Winterfell 303 AC.

Jon Snow.

The words he'd shared with his brother were fresh in his mind as he made his way to the Crypts to see his mother's statue once more. As was the argument he'd had with Sansa. His sister viewed the North almost like a southerner would and hadn't yet realized that what worked there, didn't work here. Lords and Ladies of the North didn't play the same games that those of the South did and so those games didn't work on them. Oh, they could be just as ambitious and grasping as any Southern house when they wanted and could be duplicitous too. It just wasn't their natural state as it was with those in the South.

Being around Lady Olenna, Tyrion, and Lady Ellaria, he'd seen it now first hand, and his sister would probably fit right in and be adept in a Southern Court. The North preferred actions to pretty words, fighting to politics. Its people judged you by what you did and not by what you said. Sansa to them was more Southern than Northern, 'even her gods were wrong' he'd heard Lyanna Mormont say. She deferred too much to the whims and wishes of Littlefinger and the Knights of the Vale and so she alienated the Northern Lords and Ladies because of it. He'd tried to get her to see that, tried to get her to understand that in trying to send the Free Folk away, she had crossed a line that some would be loath to forgive her for, he'd tried and failed.

At one point he'd been certain that she was about to name him a bastard and had she done so, then he may have lost his composure completely and told her who he truly was. Instead, he'd left her with a warning and walked away, no he'd run almost. That he'd run to the crypts was no great surprise and as he entered it and made his way to his mother's statue, he felt somewhat different. The emotions were still there, but they had been joined by a resolve, a strength of will and purpose that he'd not felt many times in his life. An acceptance of who he was and what his place was in the world, finally.

"I know not what to do, mother." he said softly "I see them all as my siblings still. Robb was ever my brother. Arya, gods, I'm finally seeing her as the girl she was once more. Sansa is misguided and hurt and I want so much to help her, truly I do, but….and as for Rickon. He fears losing me, losing what we have, and the only brother that he sees as one. I…what am I to do."

There were no answers, no words of wisdom spoken to him, and yet he welcomed the silence as much as he welcomed looking at the statue itself. He felt Ghost move to him as he stood there and had they been anywhere else but in front of his mother's statue, he may have tried to warg and test the bond that had grown between them. Instead, he just stood looking at the statue and tried to imagine what it would have been like had she lived. It was being so lost in these thoughts that stopped him from seeing Ghost digging at the base of the statue for as long as he did. Jon moved angrily to the white wolf to make him stop when he did notice him, only for him to feel the voice in his head telling him that he needed to see.

"What is it, Ghost?" he asked as he knelt down and began to help the wolf dig.

It took some time until he found the chest. Someone had buried it deep enough that it would never have been discovered by accident and as he took it out, he wished for nothing more than to open it. Unsheathing Longclaw he crashed the blade down on the lock and watched as it broke, the chest lid now lying half-open. Kneeling down, he opened the lid and looked inside and was soon shutting the lid firmly and lifting it in his hands.

He hurried from the crypts to his room and locked the door behind him before moving to the bed and placing the chest on top of it and opening it once more. Inside was a large cloak and it was only when he took it out that he realized what it was. The grey wolves had been joined by small red dragons and the cloak itself though mainly grey was tinged with black and red. How he kept his composure as he looked at it was beyond him.

"Mother." he said softly as he brushed his face against his mother's cloak and felt its softness. Images flashed through his head of a silver-haired man placing it on a dark-haired woman's shoulders.

Laying it carefully on the bed, he moved back to the chest and looked inside. There were two small wooden figures that had been carved. One was a wolf and the other he could only name as a dragon. Holding them in his hands he wondered if it was his father or mother who had carved them and found that in the end, it mattered not. The last thing inside was what looked like a book of some sort and he quickly took it out to open it, thoughts that his mother had read this book swimming in his head. As he read the first few pages he almost couldn't believe his good fortune. It wasn't a book his mother had read, it was a journal that she had written in.

Why can't they see, why do they hate me so? I'll not marry that man, no matter how much Father or Ned wish it so.

He skimmed through the pages, reading small passages here and there and gaining an insight into his mother's thoughts with each one that he read.

I feel a sense of excitement I've not known ever in my life before. The greatest tourney in the history of the realm. Even the Prince himself set to attend and I find myself eager to see what a dragon looks like.

Those idiotic southerners think they can attack one of my father's bannermen and get away with it. They were lucky that I only had a wooden sword, someone needs to teach them a lesson about honor and humility.

My brother is so stupid, so what if the song brought tears to my eyes, how could it not. Never have I heard a song sung so sweetly before and to hear Jenny's tale given its true due, mine were not the only eyes that leaked.

Three of them, three of them I beat and me a mere slip of a girl according to my fool of an oldest brother. Gods. Brandon can be such an idiot at times.

Never have I been kissed like that, never have I known the feelings that well in my chest when I think of him or when I picture his dark indigo eyes and his shining silver hair.

An adventure, it's like a tale from the books. The damsel in distress, the handsome prince who rescues her from those who'd seek her harm. The love they shared was good and true. Is this my life? Can I be so fortunate? Do the gods really favor me so?

I feel the life as it grows inside of me, the babe I long to hold in my arms. The son that my prince thinks will be a daughter. Oh, how I long to prove him wrong. How I long to look into our son's eyes and see whether they're mine or his father's. I shall be the best mother that any babe ever had, the true love that I feel for him will know no bounds. My Babe, My Son, My Song of Ice and Fire.

He could read no more. Each page had many more words written on them and yet he could read no more. Jon didn't cry, he sobbed. Like a newborn babe or an errant child who'd been punished, he sobbed in loud heart-wrenching cries and he did so for more than an hour or more. Eventually, he lay on the bed wrapped up in his mother's cloak and slept, glad he'd locked the door when the knocking came to it.

After gathering each of his mother's things and placing them carefully back in the chest, he moved it and hid it under some things in the corner before then answering the door.

"Did you fall asleep, Jon Snow?" Tormund asked with a smirk on his face.

"Aye, time to eat is it?"

"Aye. Come the king has joined us, it would not do for his brother not to do likewise.

He ate and made as merry as he could, laughing and japing with Rickon and Arya while trying not to glare at Bran or look to see where Sansa was sitting. His sister was nowhere in sight for some reason. Retiring early for the night, he asked Rickon to join him on the morrow in the Wolfswood. Some of the Free Folk had arranged a hunt and having his brother join them would go down well, and give them a chance to talk away from any prying ears. Sleep was easy enough to come by and his dreams were of a tourney and of a girl being named as the Queen of Love and Beauty. The day the smiles died he'd heard it referred to, but in his dream, he could see his mother's smiling face.

When he woke and had washed, he hid the chest away and resolved to read more of the journal later. He made his way to the Great Hall and broke his fast with Arya and some of the Northern Lords and Ladies, agreeing to speak to them on Daenerys when he came back from the day's hunt. There was no sign of his brother and while this concerned him, Arya soon told him that Rickon was speaking to some of the younger lords and ladies that he'd become friendly with. His brother invited them and some of the Free Folk children he was closest to, to join them on the hunt and so Jon did the same with Arya who was only too keen to do so.

"Someone's eager." he whispered to his sister as they walked out of the keep and saw Rickon and others already mounted.

"Aye, as am I." Arya said as she quickly mounted and when Jon did likewise, he nodded to his brother and to Ghost and they were soon riding out the Hunter's Gate and into the Wolfswood.

The party wasn't the true hunting party, they'd gone on ahead of them earlier as they were far too large and loud to be able to hunt with any great success. It was more a pleasure ride of sorts, a way to get out of the confines of the keep and all those there and just simply enjoy all the North had to offer. Along with his brother and sister, Lyanna Mormont, Ned Umber, Alys Karstark, Larence Snow, and their guards had joined them. Jon rode between Arya and Rickon with the others close by and Tormund, Brienne, and Podrick riding behind.

"When I was no older than you, Lord Stark brought Robb and myself for our first ride in the Wolfswood" Jon said looking at Rickon and seeing that Arya and the others all listened just as eagerly as he was "He named it a hunt, though it was not. We were far too young for such and didn't truly know our arses from our elbows." Jon said to loud laughs "But just seeing this." he pointed to the trees and the snow "Just knowing such a place existed and lay no more than a few feet from the gates of Winterfell was almost magical to us at the time."

"Did you go on true hunts, Lord Snow?" Ned Umber asked eagerly.

"Aye, in time. And it's Jon, Ned, I'm no lord." he said as Rickon frowned at his choice of words.

It was true, he was no lord, what he was though he wasn't sure. A prince's bastard was still a bastard after all.

"Father used to tell me when I had reached my one and ten nameday he'd bring me with him on one of his hunts." Rickon said wistfully.

"I'd never have been allowed to join you." Arya said softly.

"Both of you should have fostered on Bear Island, my mother brought Dacey with her when she was even younger than me." Lyanna said.

"Aye, same with Lord Glover for me." Larence added.

Jon then listened as the Free Folk boys and girls said they had been hunting for years, even though it was only rabbits and smaller prey.

Riding with those with him, he soon had them laughing even more as he told tales from his childhood. Arya joined in to confirm or deny certain things he said and added her own tales of growing up at Winterfell. By the time they stopped for something to eat, all of those with them had spoken of what it was like to grow up in their own particular parts of the North and with their parents or foster parents. Jon noticed how Lyanna Mormont, Alys, Larence, and Ned all grew a little sad when they spoke of fathers and mothers that were no longer here.

"We believe in the Old Gods." he said as they sat around a fire he'd started "We believe they see us through the trees and watch over us. All of us have lost fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters, or simply people we care about. But we carry them here." he said touching his heart "We remember them here." he said touching his head "And they look down on each and every one of us. As they look down on all of you, I know they'd be proud of what you've become. Take comfort in that and in knowing that the love you have for them and them for you, that can never die."

After eating and before they continued on their ride, he looked to Arya and then to Rickon, whispering to the former and bidding the latter to join him and Ghost. He told the guard to stay back and made his way to a small clearing some distance off.

"Ask me those questions you wish to, brother." he said looking to Rickon.

"Are you going to leave?"

"I….No."

"What about the Dragon Queen?"

"I….my place is by your side."

"But you love her." Rickon said softly.

"I…I don't know what I feel….I believe I love her, aye. I….I loved someone before, a Free Folk woman, Ygritte."

"Tormund spoke of her. Said she was fierce and Kissed by Fire." Rickon said and Jon smiled softly at the description and its aptness.

"She was…I was asked if I loved her and the best answer I could come up with was that it was close enough that I'd not shame her by naming it different. What I felt for her and what I feel for Dany…I can't compare the two. So aye, I love her, but…."

"Anything after the word but is horseshit, Jon." Rickon said, making Jon chuckle.

"Aye, that's true. My place is by my king's side, by my brother's side. Love is the death of duty, brother, a wise man told me that once." Jon said thinking about Aemon and wishing he'd known what he did now while his great uncle many times removed had still breathed.

"So you'll stay because it's your duty because I'm your duty." Rickon said annoyed as Jon moved to him and knelt down so he could look into his brother's eyes.

"Never doubt my love for you, brother. Whatever else you may, never doubt that." he said and Rickon nodded.

He stood back up and the two of them looked off into the distance in silence. Neither of them was sure what it was they wished to say and he was surprised when Rickon spoke first.

"Do you want me to name you a Stark?" his brother asked, catching him by surprise.

There had been a time when he'd wished for nothing more. When he'd wanted to be named a Stark almost as much as he'd wished to know the truth of his mother. Had his uncle but offered it to him, then he'd have been happier than he'd have dared to dream. There had been times after Robb had been named King in the North that Jon had imagined a raven coming to the Wall and freeing him of his oaths and naming him true. Rickon had even offered it once and only that the timing had been wrong or he'd have been named as Jon Stark today. Now though.

"No. I'm not a Stark, nor do I wish to be. If her grace wishes to give me my father's name then I'll accept it. Otherwise, I'll stay a Snow, no, a Sand now I suppose." he said with a half-laugh "But I cannot accept the name of my uncle's house."

"Why?"

"Because how I feel about him hasn't been resolved yet, and it's not who I am. Snow, Sand, Stark, Targaryen, my name matters not. What matters is what I feel in my heart and in my heart, I am your brother. Nothing changes that, nothing."

"Have you spoken to Sansa, Bran?"

"About this?" he asked before he saw Rickon shake his head "I spoke to Sansa. Told her what we discussed and that she had a choice to make. She is either with the Pack or against it, if it's the latter then she can leave and go south for this is no place for her."

"And if she wishes to be one of us?" Rickon asked worriedly.

"Then she will be."

"Bran?"

"I've not spoken to him. I don't know what to say and fear the answers he may give to the questions I may ask. I fear he'll not be truthful."

"He won't be."

"Then he can face the same choice as Sansa. He's either with us or against us, brother."

"I don't think he's with us, Jon." Rickon said firmly and Jon nodded.

"Come we should join the others." he said and Rickon moved to him and wrapped his arms around him, Jon softly brushing his hand on his brother's back and realizing that for all he'd grown, he was still a boy, a young boy who'd lost far too much.

As they walked back to the horses he felt Rhaegal in his head, the Green Dragon flying over lands to the east of them. He felt his longing for his mother's arrival and it fed into Jon's own. When he mounted his horse he looked to Arya and offered her a reassuring smile, something that Rickon did too. He leaned forward and whispered he'd speak to her later and knew he had to tell her the truth of who he was.

In time he'd not be able to hide it from anyone in the North, for now, he could at least tell those he trusted. Soon enough they'd see him on Rhaegal and he'd have to explain that while he was a bastard still, he was not the bastard they believed him to be. Yet despite the trepidation he felt over this knowledge, he felt something even more keenly. She'd be coming North soon, he'd see her again and as they rode he didn't even notice that his fingers touched his lips or the smile he wore on his face when he did so. Nor did he see his brother as he looked at him.

Who he was would change a lot of things. How the North saw him, how his sisters saw him, and mayhap even how Dany saw him. It could be that him being her kin may mean the end of them before they'd even begun. She may not wish to be with him in that way and were that to be so, then the words he spoke to Rickon would be far easier to live up to. He found that he prayed it would not, that just as when he'd been but a boy, he wished once more. Nor for a mother or a name, but for acceptance. Just as he had accepted that he was in love with a woman who by law and blood was his aunt, he hoped she'd do the same in regards to him. Love was the death of duty, but without love, you may as well be dead.

Winterfell, 303 AC.

Rickon Stark.

The time he spent with those he now considered as his pack was truly a needed one and he'd been glad to be strong enough to attend. His legs were still weak from his days abed but he was happy to spend more time with his friends and family. He was sad that his brother and sister hadn't invited Sansa. While he was incredibly frustrated at her for not standing up for herself and the North as she should have, he'd understood that she had been stuck in her beliefs. Rickon was set on seeing her quickly to show her that he still wanted her as part of the family and that he hoped she would make the right decision. The more she felt herself a lone wolf, the more she could be manipulated against them. Yet while Jon seemed to understand his views, probably thanks to sharing his thoughts with Ghost, Arya was a giant pain in his almost eleven nameday's old arse.

Given what he had put his sister through, he would not argue much with her on the subject. He hoped that Nymeria's presence would soon soften her views of things. The direwolf and her pack were not too far away, resting in the Barrows where they had found some prey to feed on, and would probably be there in a day or two. He could feel the wolves' excitement as well as their shock as it was their first time seeing snow, and Rickon chuckled when he saw the younger ones play in it. It reminded him of his friends in the Wolsfwood earlier that day.

His little talk with Jon stuck in his mind when they rode back to Winterfell. He watched his brother smile absentmindedly while talking to Arya and knew who Jon's thoughts were turned to. Rickon's heart was still wounded by the way Jon indirectly told him that if he wasn't doing his duty by staying by his side, he would not hesitate to leave with Daenerys. Oh, he knew Jon was truthful when he said he loved him, but that kind of love was different from what he felt for Daenerys and mayhaps he was just too young to understand the differences. He had never been in love with a girl and didn't want to be either, he thought and yet found his eyes drawn to Lyanna Mormont all the same, quickly turning away before he was caught.

"He's changed," he heard the voice say and he frowned as he turned back to Lyanna, who was looking in the same direction as him. "Your brother. There's something different in him."

"I feel it too." he admitted, not wanting to raise suspicions by changing the subject quickly. "Speaking about brothers, I heard you went pretty hard on Bran during the last meeting?"

Lyanna rolled her eyes and Rickon couldn't help but laugh.

"You know that I don't like him. The way he behaved with all your family is very telling about his heart. He doesn't care about anything unless it could be useful against the army of the dead."

"You're right, but still, I would have loved to see it. Did his emotionless arse even react to you cursing him out?"

"You wish! I don't think anything would make him change his creepy expression, even if he was bitten in the arse he would still look just as fucking creepy."

"Well, in fact... Ghost bit him once and he almost soiled himself because of the pain," Rickon said, shuddering at the thought of what had happened that day.

"Interesting... So he feels pain..." Lyanna said contemplatively.

"You're not planning on poking holes into Bran's body, are you?"

"Bah! You know me too well, it's not even funny." she replied and he laughed heartily.

"I'd prefer you stay away from him,"

"I won't hurt him... much..."

"It's not for him that I'm scared, Lyanna." he retorted seriously. "Something is wrong with him. The less you talk to him, the better."

Lyanna nodded, frowning, and he knew she was trying to guess what had happened to have him scared of Bran, but he would not risk her by telling her the truth of the Godswood incident. As Nymeria said, she was part of his pack now and he cared deeply for her, even if he would never say it out loud in fear she would mistake it for courting.

"We'll need to talk, all of us. The Dragon Queen will be here soon." she then said.

"I know... Jon told me you've asked him about the battle of King's Landing."

"She hasn't burned anyone but the Ironborn. If anything, it would make her beloved here." Lyanna smirked.

"You're worried about her taking the North by force?" he asked.

"We all are. We would not stand a chance if she did."

"But I don't think she will…"

"How can you be so sure?" she insisted.

Rickon turned to look at his brother, who was caught in a snowball fight with some of the youngest children from the Free Folk and Arya, and he remembered his last true conversation with the Dragon Queen.

"You're seriously refusing the Crown for my brother's sake?" he had asked again, and the woman in front of him smirked playfully.

"Probably as much as you seriously contemplated kneeling for your brother's sake."

Ser Davos was waiting for them when they arrived back at Winterfell and Rickon was surprised to hear music coming from the Great Hall when they went to the stables. He sent his smirking sister a knowing glare as she put her hand up in defense.

"Do not look at me, I am not responsible for any feast." Arya said loudly.

"The Lords of the North have respected your wishes. The Free Folk, however... Well, they did not kneel. You do not want to piss them off, right, Your Grace?" Davos said, amused.

"What about the Knights of the Vale?" he asked.

"Gone, all of them. But I fear we will have to call them back."

"Why is that? They made their choice and they will have to live with the consequences of their actions."

"We received a raven, a few moments after they left. From Queen Daenerys and addressed to the King in the North."

"And what does it say?" Lyanna asked as Rickon grabbed the missive and began to read it.

To the King of the North, Rickon Stark.

Part of our agreement was fulfilled on your side with your brother helping us get rid of Cersei Lannister's hold over King's Landing and the rest of the South.

It is now time for me, as Queen in the South, to fulfill mine.

My Hand, Lady Olenna Tyrell, has sent a shipment of provisions from the Reach to Sea Dragon Point to fill your supplies in preparation for my force's arrival.

Another shipment will be sent along with them to White Harbor with my dragons.

I will, after my coronation, travel with my dragons to Winterfell, where I will ask the Knights of the Vale to confirm their allegiance to my rule, as their Liege Lord would have already done so by then.

I ask you to pass on my best wishes to your brother, King Rickon, for without him I'd not have been able to fulfill my agreement with you.

I look forward to seeing him, as well as you, your family, the Lords and Ladies of the North, and the Free Folk, and I wish you all good fortune until we meet again.

Queen Daenerys Targaryen

Queen of the South.

Jon's silly smile as he read over his shoulder the not-so-subtle message directed to him made Rickon shake his head. It was now obvious that his brother wasn't able to hide his feelings for the Queen and the king wondered how the Lords of the North would react to it.

Davos rejoiced that they would not have to worry about supplying food to Daenerys' armies, and Lyanna explained that most of the Lords feared that they would have to bend the knee because of the lack of supplies at the end of the war.

Later that night.

Rickon's mind reeled throughout the feast. He thought about how they had scrambled to put Winterfell back in shape after the battle against the Boltons and how they were still recovering from it. They would undoubtedly suffer more losses facing the army of the dead and they would be vulnerable at the end of the conflict, should they survive it.

"Daenerys will help us, brother," Jon whispered to him when he voiced his concerns. "She will not allow our people to starve."

"But she might ask for something in exchange…"

"If bending the knee is the price to pay so our people survive, don't you think it is worth the Crown, brother?"

"You would have us kneel to her, then?"

"If there was another way, I would support you fully."

"Would you? Truly?"

"Whatever you choose, brother, I will always be with you."

How was it possible for a heart to break and mend at the same time? Rickon thought as he felt his heart doing just so. Jon's encouraging smile hurt him almost as much as the arrow that killed him, and yet he wanted nothing more than seeing it grow even larger.

They were about to fight for their lives, and Jon had devoted his life to protecting the realms of men. Even after his death, he had done so, and not once had he complained about his fate. He was willing to push his feelings aside and to trust Rickon completely. It was time for Rickon to do the same and to give his brother the reward he deserved.

Winterfell 303 AC.

The Three-Eyed Raven.

Time was a strange thing to experience all at once. Past, present, and future blurring in and out of each other and confusing even him as it did so. That the future was unwritten and the ink not yet dry on it, made seeing it and predicting it a challenge. Never had this been more true than since he'd come back to Winterfell to find that a brother who should be long dead, breathed still, and every breath he took was a ripple that he couldn't predict. Bran felt more anger each time he looked to the future and saw the changes that Rickon wrought, the fates he changed and the lives that were affected by his still being alive. As he looked into the future once again, he saw the worst possible outcome become even more clear and he worried that he'd not be able to change it at all.

Marriage. The little shit thought of nothing worse than marriage to solve his problem and Jon seemed to agree to it.

Why had anyone thought that relying on an eleven namedays boy with abandonment issues would be a good thing?

Nothing that was supposed to happen was going according to what he saw. The constant headaches given by the now multiple possibilities of the future made Bran extremely irritable and his impassive demeanor was hard to maintain, especially tonight as he sought answers and found only the wrong ones.

Rickon's presence made Jon more attentive and almost back to his former self, where his death would have plunged him closer to uncertainty. His failure to save Rickon would have made him cherish them to the point of never questioning them and their attempts to separate him from Daenerys, and the truth of his birth would have shattered the rest of his self-belief. Bran would have convinced Arya that she was too dangerous for Jon and with the right push at the right moment on his part, the sack of King's Landing would have shown the Seven Kingdoms that the dragon wasn't fit to rule them. Jon wouldn't risk Arya and Sansa's safety and would resolve to protect his pack at the cost of his love for his aunt.

But now... Everything had changed, starting with how the wars were supposed to happen. Losing people she cared about in the war for the Dawn, then before the burning of King's Landing would have prompted Daenerys to lose her mind and mistrust everyone. She would be right to, of course, but that to Bran was a moot point. She had already gotten rid of Cersei and Euron, meaning her closest companion would not die when she was supposed to, and that they would come in stronger numbers to face the dead.

The Lords of the North wouldn't even truly argue about joining House Stark and House Targaryen should Rickon express the idea. A proposal to keep the North united through Jon and Daenerys, in exchange for her cooperation during the war against the Dead and the rebuilding afterward would be too good to turn down. For people who claimed that the North Remembered, they would be happy to forget what had led to Robert's Rebellion, or at least to care less about it. Jon would succeed in putting Daenerys in a good light and this would be detrimental to the rest of his plan. For if he wanted a chance to fulfill his destiny, the Dragon Queen had to be at odds with the North and with his family especially.

It annoyed Bran that Sansa hadn't been there to voice her concerns about Daenerys, but given how she was willing to change to appease her cousin and their brother, he guessed she was better where she was. And because of Rickon's desire to make Jon happy, nothing he had planned so far would come to pass.

Samwell Tarly was supposed to play a role in relating the news to Jon from a place of resentment for how his family had been treated, but he became less important when his family had been captured alive. So when he saw the fat coward's fate change, he didn't intervene as he should have. For he thought that at least he would have been useful in regards to Jon if he had wanted to push the Faceless Men's attack on someone from the Dragon Queen's entourage. Again, his plan had been thwarted with Rickon, who thanks to being close to Arya had warned Jon of their involvement in Westeros without truly understanding what their motives were.

Unless he managed to find a flaw, something that could divide the lovely couple before their union, he was doomed to become nothing but a memory stuck under a freaking weirwood just as his predecessor had been. This he could and would not accept. They had lured him by saying that he would fly when their true goal was to bind him to the trees. To keep him there while his family was being massacred and they had the power to stop it. So fly he would, all over Westeros he would soar and no one would stop him from doing so, no one.

When he realized how powerful the Three-Eyed Raven truly was, what he could have prevented but had been too craven to do, Bran felt a huge amount of anger. The Rebellion, all those dead, the War of the Five Kings could all have been stopped if only he had intervened, but he didn't. His father, his mother, and older brother were dead when Bloodraven could have stopped his kin previously.

"But then you would not be born, dear Brandon." Bloodraven had argued in his head. "Your family would not exist as it is. We have to serve the Old Gods and maintain the pact between the First Men and the children. We can only witness history writing itself until the Gods tell us otherwise. The Ink is dry, whenever you feel you wish to intervene, remember this. The Ink is dry."

Someone with such powers should never be made to serve and fly occasionally in search of his replacement. How the ones before him agreed to it, to not get involved in the events of the realm and to stay as puppets to the Children of the Forest as the First Men got slaughtered and the Andals took over, then the Targaryens, he didn't understand. Or at least he didn't until he disobeyed Bloodraven's order and realized why the Night King had been created.

Cowards, the lot of them.

He was about to close his eyes and force himself back into the weirwood to get more answers about the path he needed to use, when he heard his cousin's voice.

"Bran. A word, alone, if you please?" Jon called out

"I was wondering when you would come to me. Aye, brother. We need to talk. Take me to the Godswood."

"No. Not there." Jon said, making Bran frown. "I heard what happened the last time two Stark brothers went there. I'll bring you somewhere else."

Bran nodded, disturbed to be told no as no one else before Jon ever dared do so. Not even Rickon, who preferred avoiding him completely these days.

When they arrived near the crypts, Bran tensed. Had Rickon told Jon about his birth already? No, it couldn't be. Jon wouldn't agree to a union with his aunt if he knew the truth about his birth, would he? He needed to know quickly and warged into a waiting raven near the weirwood to watch what happened.

Lost in his thoughts, Bran didn't realize until he was sitting on the ground that Jon had lifted him from his chair.

"I"m here, now. If you have anything to say to me, anything, I am here and you can do so."

"Rickon told you." he deduced, seeing Jon's angered gaze on him.

"Aye. I want to hear from you, why didn't you come to me when there was plenty of time for you to tell me the truth?"

"You do not trust me. Not like you trust Rickon. Our bond is not strong enough compared to Rickon and yours to make you make the right choices."

"And what would those choices be, pray tell?"

"Not to pursue any relationship with your aunt, else you will lose yourself and our family."

"And how can you be so sure of it? Because you saw it?" Jon asked disdainfully.

"I saw you with her, aye. I saw her change when she discovered the truth of your birth. I saw her start resenting you when she understood that she would lose her throne because of who you are, for many Lords would rally behind you instead of her."

"I'm just a bastard." Jon said, shaking his head.

"No, you are not. Your parents were married in front of the Seven and the Old Gods. Rhaegar's marriage to Elia Martell had been annulled and you are the last trueborn male of House Targaryen. You're the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Then… I am a Targaryen? Not a Sand?" his cousin's disbelief was clear and Bran wished to use that but knew he could not.

"And even if you wed her, she will grow to resent you for people will see you as the King of the Seven Kingdoms when she fought all her life to get where she was. Then the Small Council, the same that had been devoted to her, will push forward the fact that she is barren to make you choose someone else and bid you to set her aside to further your line."

"What… What are you talking about?" Jon frowned and Bran saw it then, the little crack in their relationship. The sliver of uncertainty he could exploit to make Jon bend to his will.

"She cannot have children, Jon. She was cursed by a witch when she was in Essos, while she was married to Khal Drogo and expecting his child. She agreed to use blood magic to keep him alive and it cost her any life that would grow in her womb. Soon this truth will be revealed, when Westeros will wish for an heir, and everyone will soon blame her for her inability to bring one to life. While you, the son of Rhaegar, could have done so without her."

"That makes no sense…"

"Love is sweet, but it doesn't change a man's nature. That is what your mother last said to my father when he pushed her about the betrothal between her and Robert Baratheon." he said, knowing that Jon would be moved by hearing his mother's words, which judging by his softening gaze worked perfectly. "Daenerys Targaryen is a Conqueror, like Aegon before her. Not a Conciliator like Jaehaerys. She made her way in Essos thanks to the Dothraki's brute strength and the Unsullied's unparalleled skills. Whatever attempt at assuaging her peers through politics ended up in Fire and Blood. This is in her, in her temperament, this is what made you love her and what will doom you in the end."

"You saw this? Truly? You saw her being my doom?" Jon asked softly.

"I saw many things, Jon. I saw you with a family of your own. I saw you live in the North, by Rickon's side, with a wife and children, while Daenerys agreed to leave the North independent as long as you didn't press your claim on the South. I saw you put a dagger in her heart after she burned King's Landing with her only remaining dragon, Viserion being killed by the Night King and Rhaegal afterward-" Bran felt he shouldn't get into the details of this one, but the truth of what he saw would be useful in disturbing Jon's mind.

"No, that's impossible."

"I saw an infinity of possibilities for the future, Jon. In any of those in which we survive the long night, not one ends well with you and Daenerys together."

"In which ones did you see the Knights of the Vale getting involved in the affairs of the North having a good outcome in the battle against the dead?" Jon asked, almost taking him off guard.

"The Vale is important for the fight, that is all I know," he lied.

"Do we not need the Free folk too?"

"We do, we need all the forces we can get, however, the Knights of the Vale need to be here. They were here when I saw us defeat the Night King."

"Did you see the Free Folk leaving Winterfell leading to a good outcome in the fight against the Night King?" Jon asked, his eyes focussed on him as he did so.

"I saw the Free Folk and the Knights of the Vale fight together to bring the Dawn, as well as the North and Daenerys' forces."

"How can we kill the Night King? Did you find the answer to that? Have you learned anything useful about him?"

"No. All I know is that he was created by the Children of the Forest to protect themselves from the First Men. After some time, he turned against them too, until not one of them remained."

"Where is the Night King right now?" Jon asked and Bran felt his stare to be discomfiting.

"Hiding his position under a storm. He knows of me and does not want me to know of his whereabouts."

"So you cannot see all of the past, You cannot see the Night King no. You do not know how to kill him, but you're certain about my future with Daenerys?" Jon mocked.

Bran could see how frustrated Jon was and he didn't like the way he was insisting as if making a point.

"You said it yourself. There's an infinite number of possibilities. The future is not written yet. I don't know why you're so intent on us not getting together." Jon's voice was louder now, angrier.

"Because the North is attached to you, Jon. Our family is attached to you. Should anything happen to you, then nothing will stop the North from wanting retribution, and all will die. Sansa, Arya, me... Rickon… Our fate is tied to yours, and yours doesn't end well whenever you tie it to Daenerys'."

"You still have this habit, you know?" Jon smirked.

"What habit?"

"You always look down when you lie."

This almost made Bran react as images of his mother chastising him before the fateful climb that crippled him ran through his mind. If only…

No, it was meant to be. I was supposed to fly and I had to lose my legs so I could open my third eye. The ink is dry, anyway.

"Oh, you do it very slightly now, and were I not bound to Ghost I would probably have not seen it" Jon continued, smirking more as this made him recoil slightly in surprise. "I do not know what you're hiding, nor why you feel the need to lie to me about my future, but from now on, I will make sure that no one follows your word blindly. Unless you're willing to be true to us, to me, unless you show that you're truly working for the North and not against it, to strengthen our family and not break us apart, I will not heed your words anymore."

"You'll see, brother. You'll see soon enough that I am right. Now that you've said your piece, can you bring me back to the Heart Tree so I can continue on my task to save the living?"

Jon didn't object and took him once again in his arms, unaware of Bran's rage boiling inside of him, yet as he was placed back in his chair, there was something else there in his cousin's eyes when he looked at him, something that scared him truly. If he didn't need him to end the Night King's life, who knew what he would have done to his cousin once they were in his territory. Instead of lashing out as he did with Rickon, knowing it will do him a great disservice to do so, Bran decided on giving some parting words to Jon that would make him think, whether he wanted to or not.

"You love her, but some things are not meant to be, Jon. Some loves are doomed from the start. such as the love shared between a wolf and a dragon." he said, rejoicing when he saw Jon wince as he got ready to leave the Godswood.

"Aye, I love her. You should remember that the next time you try to come between us, as you should remember this, cousin." Jon's naming him as a cousin only added to the fear that was rising in him "Wolves protect the pack and Dragons burn their enemies. Not even you'll be able to fly far enough from me should it come to pass that you're more the latter than the former. Cursed is the Kinslayer, Bran, but some curses are worth the price."

Bran wanted to rage, to yell out his frustration and anger but felt that he couldn't. He was being watched, he could feel it, yet he couldn't find where Rickon was to his utter annoyance. He had to stick to his emotionless self now that his brother knew how to warg, and he seemed not to be the only one who controlled his gift if Jon was to be believed. He understood then why Ghost didn't seem as afraid of him as he had been before. He had managed to strengthen the bond between him and Jon, making Bran unable to use him as he could have before.

When he was finally left alone, he retained a sigh and immersed himself in the Heart Tree, using all of his strength to bend it to his will. It was becoming more and more difficult to do this ever since Rickon traveled in this realm. The Old Gods had once again made it clear which brother they favored and Bran hated him even more because of that.

He searched again and again in the future for a glimpse, a glimmer of hope, and found it as he looked somewhere else. He found it in a man who was always destined to help him, an ally who knew not his true role in things to come but would be rewarded as he should have been, had things not changed because of Rickon.

He smiled as he saw it more clearly then, what he should do and how he should act for him to be able to fly as he should.

Soon. Soon he would be able to do so and the Golden Dragon would help him fulfill his destiny, whether he liked it or not.

Winterfell 303 AC.

Littlefinger.

He had needed more time, that was all, more time and he'd have achieved all he'd set out to. Things happened much too fast though. Events in the North seemed to move at a snail's pace while in the South they sped along rapidly. There was no way he could have predicted that the war would be won that easily, not even given the fact that the Dragon Queen had actual dragons to call upon. His spies had told him that she'd named Tyrion Lannister as Hand and that caution was being preached. The Imp's feelings for his family had probably stayed her hand regarding them up to now. He'd thought that would be enough, it would have been if it was not for Jon Snow.

Once again it was the Bastard of Winterfell who'd been the fly in his ointment and the ruination of his plans. His eagerness to get back to the North and be by his brother's side had led to him somehow becoming who had been trusted to plan the war against Cersei Lannister. Then whether or not he was that tactically astute or simply having such a force to call upon made it inevitable, he'd seen the war won in no time. Was that not bad enough, somehow he'd then managed to make it back to Winterfell in far too quick a manner, Petyr still not sure how he'd managed that feat and yet in the end it mattered not. Jon Snow was here and so other than with his death, something he had planned to see happen in the future, he was once again a thorn in his side and an obstacle to his plans.

What he'd done at the meeting had shown that Petyr's time in the North was at an end. The way he'd spoken to the Knights of the Vale and the Lords of the North had proved that they no longer held sway or influence here and even after they'd spoken to Sansa, they'd gotten no respite. She'd disappointed him greatly and had made it clear on more than one occasion that while she said the words and performed some of the actions he wished her to, her heart wasn't truly in it and she was not completely on his side. Her having a backbone and a spirit as well as her being the perfect image of her mother at that age had drawn him to her far more than Lysa and even Cat ever had, but he couldn't accept her being too spirited. No, it was time for him to take what he was owed and to break her so that she was far more compliant to his wishes and desires.

"Make ready my carriage, we leave as soon as we can." he said to his guard before he made his way to speak to Lord Royce and the other Knights of the Vale.

He found them still stewing and when he told them that he intended to leave and to head to King's Landing to speak to the Dragon Queen in person, he was surprised by the look of respect in Royce's eyes. This only increased when he told them that he wished for them to head straight back to the Vale and to make ready for a war that he had no intention of fighting. In the end, he knew he'd have no choice but to kneel, it was the price for that kneeling he was considering and how to wring the best deal for him personally out of the negotiations.

With a nod to Lyn Corbray, he left the Knights of the Vale to their preparations, and together they made their way to Sansa's room. His preparations were made and it was time to collect his prize before he left this place. Petyr found himself almost as eager as he had been when he was a young boy and Cat had shown how she'd truly felt about him. The memories of that one glorious night that they'd spent together were something that fuelled his excitement about all the nights soon to come. As angry as he was with her, he knew that would she just come to him and offer herself to him, he'd forgive her anything. Yet the first words out of her mouth after she'd answered the door to him, proved that she'd not offer him anything, which left him but one choice, to take what he was owed.

"No. For too long I waited, way longer than someone like me should have been expected to. We need to talk and we need to do it right now." he said in reply to her dismissal and then entering the room, he bid Lyn close the door behind him.

"What is so urgent, Lord Baelish." she said irritably.

"I received word from the Vale, apparently the Dragon Queen demands that your cousin kneel and offers no assurances about the future once he does so."

"I believe Jon said similar, did he not?"

"He did. Yet he mentioned not the North, Sansa. Do you truly believe that you'll not be brought to your knees too?" he asked curiously.

"Jon has made his intent clear, Lord Baelish. Were the Dragon Queen to seek to take the North, I've no doubt my brother would fight for his king and I believe the Dragon Queen may not wish for such an outcome."

"So naïve, so foolish. I had such high hopes for you, Sansa. Together there is no limit to what we could achieve, no position that is out of our reach. I told you of the future I seek, the dream I have of that future. Of you and I sitting together on the Iron Throne…"

"A dream, Lord Baelish, a dream with no chance of coming true lest you know a way to beat dragons or my brother? You name me naïve and say that I'm foolish." she laughed and it annoyed him greatly "Yet even I can see that the future you seek is one that will never come to pass."

"Mayhaps not all of it." he said and Lyn moved so fast that she didn't even have time to scream before he'd put the cloth over her mouth and her struggles ended in moments.

Seeing her as Lyn lay her down on the ground, her hair spread out behind her, the soft pale skin on her chest and shoulders slightly exposed, he almost took her then and there. Was he not so sure of his plans and so eager to hear her moan and scream his name when he did take her, he would have. Instead, he sent Lyn to fetch the chest and ordered his guards to ready to move her to his carriage. It took two of them to squeeze her into the large wooden chest and the ease with which they carried her from her room to his carriage amazed him.

Her guards were nowhere in sight and he thanked the seven for that. Petyr was not sure that even Lyn could handle the giant beast of a woman and he doubted he had a man in his service who could beat Jon Snow. Yet there was no sight of any of them and the meal they'd all attended to celebrate their King's recovery had made the keep's security far too lax. Though the Northmen always thought themselves to be safe in their keeps and hadn't learned the lessons the War of the Five Kings had shown them. Safety was a myth, a thing out of reach to all of them and once you understood this, then and only then did you have a chance to protect yourself truly.

They placed the chest inside the wheelhouse and his guards and Lyn mounted up. Less than an hour after he'd decided to follow this course of action, it was done. Petyr smiled as they rode out the main gate and made their way to the King's Road. He had more than a hundred men with him and yet should they be caught it wouldn't be enough, so before dawn had broken, they split up. While he much preferred to ride in the comfort of his wheelhouse, he knew it would only serve to slow him down and so it was on horseback with a tied Sansa Stark in front of him that he prepared to leave the North far behind.

"We ride hard, the sooner we're out of these lands, the sooner you'll be paid." he said to his men and he didn't look back as the wheelhouse went one way and he and Sansa Stark the other "Soon my love, soon." he whispered softly to the still unconscious woman in front of him.

Winterfell 303 AC.

The Hound.

His head was pounding and he cursed himself for drinking too much. He hated Winterfell, probably more than he'd hated his time beyond the Wall. He would rather face the dead once more, for he wouldn't feel as if she was there torturing him.

He had tried to talk to her, to make her see reason, to make her realize that she was making the same mistakes as she did in King's Landing, but she wouldn't listen and it angered him to no end. He had heard what had happened to her and what she had done to her former husband. The fucker was in luck. for he would have done way worse to him than feeding him to his dogs. He would have deserved it, for hurting someone so vulnerable and undeserving.

Yet she stood near the man who betrayed her and her family, not once, not twice, but thrice... That Littlefinger was still alive, that her brothers hadn't ended his life was beyond his understanding. He knew and had seen how much of a backbone both Rickon Stark and Jon Snow had, and the latter seemed to him like the kind of man to kill the evil at its root. Not to mention that he had a fucking dragon at his disposal.

The sight of the beast had been enough to make him go back to Winterfell. He had left to help Beric and Thoros with the evacuation of the North, anything to get away from this damn place he hated so much. Instead of his usual trip to White Harbor, he had been sent to Thorren's Square and was riding towards the keep when he spotted it flying over his head and landing in the forest. His instincts told him to turn around and he did so without thinking, only fearing for the Wolf Bitch and the Little Bird's safety. The Dragon Queen was supposed to be South, and she couldn't possibly have defeated Cersei already. Jon Snow was supposed to be with her and the boy King was still lost in whatever ailed him. Sansa was the one in charge and seeing how bad she was at ruling had made him fear for her sake.

When he'd arrived, he had found out that it was not the Dragon Queen but Jon Snow who had arrived in Winterfell. He'd heard that the bastard didn't lose time to call out the fuckers from the Vale. So he had been elated and had celebrated the departure of Littlefinger and his allies by drinking all night with Brienne of Tarth, who had been given leave for the night by Sansa herself. It had surprised him to see her so willing to drink, especially with him given their history together, but her hatred for Baelish and his manipulative ways were stronger than her dislike for his manners. They had spent the night talking about the Stark Sisters and the growing rift between them.

"I wish I could do something to help," Brienne said drunkenly. "I swore to their mother that I would protect them, yet not only wasn't I able to do so before they got hurt, but I am failing in protecting Lady Sansa from herself. And now Lady Arya hates her."

"If only she fucking listened…" Sandor grumbled.

"I do not get it. Seriously, I do not. But hopefully, now that this parasite is set to leave, Maybe she'll fucking listen!"

"Well, well! The Maid of Tarth can swear!" he joked, laughing as he saw her redden from either embarrassment or anger.

"I can do a lot of things, Hound. I am not a dainty flower! I usually do not like to swear but that particular bastard deserves it!"

"That he does." he agreed, pouring more ale into her mug.

"Did you hear their last fight? Arya and Sansa's? I swear I thought I would have to intervene, and then again I would probably have been killed if I had. Arya doesn't joke when it comes to fighting."

"I heard she ended the Freys male line all by herself," he said smiling truly at the thought

"She did, and they will not be missed."

"Littlefinger wouldn't either, yet he's still breathing."

"It's Lady Sansa's fault. She claimed that the Vale would not stay if they killed Baelish and they listened to her." she replied to his surprise. "I know both Rickon, Jon Snow, and Arya wanted him dead."

They got distracted by the red-headed wildling who wanted to get under the Maid's britches and Sandor left them be, as he hated the fucker's boisterous attitude.

It was way past morning when he woke up and he skipped breaking his fast, not wanting to waste a meal when someone else could be more in need of it. Nothing was appetizing anyway, and he hoped the Dragon Queen would bring some chicken with her from the South. He heard that the King had left with his bastard brother, their murderous sister, and some of the Lords for a hunt with the Free Folk. That they had not waited to send off the Knights of the Vale, who had left soon after, was a clear sign of disrespect worthy of the one shown to them by their previous guests. The North was a dreadful place, especially in Winter, but Sandor appreciated the lack of pretending that was more common in the south.

His steps led him to Sansa's chambers and he hesitated. He wanted to see her, to talk to her and hopefully knock some sense in her head since Littlefinger was done messing with it, and as he went to knock on the door, he frowned while seeing it ajar and hearing small whimpers coming from the room.

He didn't expect to find Brienne in Sansa's room, crying without restraint.

"Why the fuck are you crying? What's going on?" he growled, making her jump in surprise.

"I… I failed her…" the woman sniffled, showing him a piece of parchment addressed to her.

Brienne,

I release you from your vows. You are free to serve my other siblings without feeling conflicted.

I am leaving with the Lords of the Vale, traveling with them to be by my cousin's side where my counsel will be welcome.

I wish you good fortune for the war to come.

Sansa Stark.

Dread fell over Sandor as he read the words and yet could not believe them.

"Horseshit. She wouldn't leave." he declared loudly.

"I…"

"I am telling you, the last thing she would want to do would be to follow this fucking Mockinbird after all he did to her! And you, you should be fucking ashamed for falling for this! You know her!"

"I thought I knew her! Yet every time she manages to disappoint me!" Brienne retorted, still crying.

"Unless I hear it from her own lips, I will not believe this shite! Now, are you coming with me?" he asked and she hesitated. "Fucking hell! What if something happened to her? Will you look at yourself and be proud of abandoning her? Come now!" he yelled and walked out the room, straight to the stables, glad to see her follow suit.

They rode as hard as they could to get to the Knights of the Vale. They were not too far, according to Brienne, for they didn't leave a long time before them, yet it took them hours to catch up to them. Lord Royce who led the march back to their home looked at him in surprise, then with distrust as they dismounted.

"Is Lady Stark with you?" Brienne asked, hopefully.

"What?"

"Sansa Stark! Did she leave with you?" Brienne asked more worriedly now.

"Where the fuck is Littlefinger?" He suddenly asked.

"And why should I -" Yohn's haughty response stopped as Sandor raised his hand before unsheathing his sword.

"I swear to the Gods that I will gut you if you do not give me a clear answer. Where. Is. Baelish?"

"Lord Baelish left yesterday for King's Landing!"

"Was Lady Stark with him?" Brienne asked, the worry in her voice echoing his own while he glared at the older man.

"If she was, he didn't tell me!"

"I hope for your sake that nothing has happened to her. For if she's been harmed you best pray that Jon Snow finds you before I do!" he spat, moving from the man and rushing back to his horse.

If Littlefinger had left the day before, then he was now too far ahead of them to retrieve her with a searching party. By the time they would get to them, who knew what the perverted bastard could have already done to her.

He needed to get back to Winterfell. He needed to go to the only one who had the means to get to her quickly and pray that Jon Snow would care enough about his sister to let a dragon loose on a Mockingbird.

Winterfell 303 AC.

Jon.

He was fuming as he walked out from the Godswood, his talk with Bran had helped him some but his cousin, for that is what he was, had been his usual obtuse self. So much so that even when he'd told him things, he'd only done so in order to get him to do as he wished, to manipulate him as it seemed he manipulated everyone around him. Jon was now sure that was what he did, just as Rickon had said about him, it was the why, that he couldn't quite understand though.

Why did Bran wish them to act a certain way?

Why did he want them to do certain things?

What plan was he working on?

And to whose benefit?

Jon knew that Bran wanted to win the war against the Night King and the Army of the Dead, on that at least he was on their side. It was every other thing his cousin spoke that he wasn't so certain about. His reasoning for not wanting him to be with Dany may on the surface seem to be out of worry for him and their family, but it was what lay beneath that surface that Jon found himself thinking on. As for why he'd not told him the truth of himself, that was a mystery that he had yet to even begin to unravel. That horseshit he'd said about Jon not trusting him just didn't ring true and as for him being trueborn, he wished to believe it, almost begged to, and yet he could not. He needed a source truer than a cousin he didn't fully trust for that and so instead of the Great Hall, it was to his room that he was heading, to find that source.

"Snow." a voice called out and Jon turned to see the Hound walk his way.

"Clegane."

"Your sister, Snow, she's missing."

"Arya does that from time to…"

"Not the little wolf, the little bird, Sansa."

"She's not in her room?" he asked and the Hound shook his head, Jon sighing as he knew now where she was.

"Then she's made her choice, let her cousin in the Vale and Littlefinger protect her, I care not." he said, moving to walk away.

"Are all you wolves so fucking stupid? Wherever your sister is, it's not by her choice. It's by the choice of that cunt Littlefinger and should anything happen to her, then I'll fucking gut you like you should have done him the moment he arrived here."

"What the fuck are you saying, Clegane?"

"I'm saying that the fucker has lived too long and should have died for what he did to your father."

"What did he do?" he asked, his feelings about his uncle put aside for now.

"He was the one to hand him over to the Lannisters, held a knife to your father's throat, and used the Gold Cloaks to take care of his guards. That fucker has been walking around breathing air he doesn't deserve for long enough and he has an unhealthy obsession with red-headed Tullys."

"I know how he feels about my sister." Jon said as he called out for Ghost.

"Aye, mayhap you do. Did you know he claimed to have taken both of the Tully girl's maidenheads? That he used to brag about getting to Catelyn Tully before your father did?"

Jon may not have had the best relationship with Catelyn Stark but he would never have believed it of her, he didn't believe it or her. As for her sister, he knew her not, though if it was true then it called into question the Lord Paramount of the Vale's paternity.

"You're sure she's not here?" he asked and Sandor shook his head, Jon then connected with Ghost and bid the white wolf to seek her out if she was in the keep just in case "I'll speak to her guards, Brienne and…"

"She knows not where she is, I've spoken to her. We've gone after the Knight of the Vale too, she's not with them. Littlefinger has taken her and whatever he's planned, only you can stop it."

"I don't even…"

"You have a dragon." Sandor said, interrupting him.

"What?"

"I saw you flying over the Wolfswood. Horses are no fucking good, Snow, and I care not how or why you have a dragon, but I know you fucking have one. Call him, call him and find her before it's too late." Sandor demanded.

He closed his eyes and reached out for Rhaegal, surprised to find the Green Dragon was already on his way.

"I'll order men mounted and a search." he said holding his hand up when Sandor went to speak "They'll cover more ground and leave me free to search with fewer questions. Ride with them, take Brienne and Tormund and some others, when you see Ghost it means I've found her."

"Thank fuck your not a complete fool, Snow, I thought I'd have to beat it into you to go after the little bird."

"She's my sister, we may not see eye to eye, but she's my sister still." he said as he hurried away and headed into the keep.

He ignored the calls to join people at their tables as he made his way to where Rickon, Arya, and Davos were at the High Table. Leaning down to his brother, he whispered in his ear and then walked from the Great Hall and to Sansa's room. Entering inside he found that none of her things had been taken, her dresses were still neatly packed, and was that not enough, Ghost running in from outside while carrying a handkerchief in his mouth would have been.

"Where?" he asked as he closed his eyes and felt himself in the wolf's head, images of the ground outside Winterfell soon being shown to him.

Rickon and Arya along with Davos and Tormund soon joined him and only the latter two seemed uncomfortable invading his sister's privacy.

"Sansa has been taken by Littlefinger." he said directly.

"Stolen?" Tormund asked and Jon shook his head.

"Taken against her will."

"No, she hasn't." Arya said looking at him "She left because she wanted to."

"No, she didn't, Arya. I wanted to think so, I gave her an ultimatum that Rickon and I discussed and on the surface, it would seem she's made her choice. But look around, notice anything?" he asked and Arya did as he bid only to shake her head.

"Her clothes, she didn't take them." Rickon said a moment later.

"Aye. The Hound rode after the Knights of the Vale, he sought her out and she's not with them, which means she's with Littlefinger."

"Doesn't mean she's been taken by him, Jon". Arya said her anger towards Sansa was still something she'd not fully let go of.

"No it doesn't, and yet I know she has. Forget how mad she makes you, how angered at her you are. Now tell me what you'd do?" he asked and he saw it, the moment of clarity in her eyes.

"I'd chase after the fucker and gut him for taking my sister." Arya said.

"Well, you can't. I need you to stay here and protect our brother, I'll go after her. Davos, Tormund, I've organized a search party, I'd ask you to see that they're provisioned."

"Aye Jon, I'll see to it at once." Davos said.

"You want me with them, King Crow?" Tormund asked and Jon nodded.

Once they'd left he turned to Rickon and Arya, knowing he'd have further questions to answer and wishing he'd spoken to his sister about his truth already.

"Can you find her?" he asked Rickon while Arya looked at him confused.

"I don't…"

"Try brother." he said to a nod and when Rickon closed his eyes, Jon turned to Arya.

"I'll find her and bring her back and once I do, we'll all have much to speak on. I've something I need to tell you, but for now, I just ask you to trust me, can you do that?" he asked his sister.

"Aye, you know I can."

"Rhaegal and I are bonded, Arya, he saved me because of that, and now he's on his way to take me to find Sansa." he said as Arya looked at him dumbfounded.

"How…I don't…how can you ride a dragon?"

"I'll tell you when I return, I promise." he said as Rickon opened his eyes.

Less than an hour later the search party had been sent out and Jon made his way to the Wolfswood. Rhaegal had landed much closer to the keep and yet far enough for him to probably go unnoticed. Though given that he'd already been seen by The Hound, it probably mattered not anymore. Soon enough the truth would out and so why bother hiding it. For now, though he was focussed only on finding and rescuing his sister and so after speaking to Rhaegal and telling him what he wished from him, they took to the air and headed to where Rickon had said Littlefinger was supposedly camped for the night.

It took them no time at all to arrive and Jon found that even flying at night didn't stop him from seeing the world below him. They'd passed the search party and he'd seen Ghost lead them on their own fruitless search. The white wolf had done as he'd bid and taken them far from him and Rhaega and he would show him his gratitude later. Looking to the tents and horses below him, he would say there were about fifty men and he thanked the gods that he had a dragon to call on. Jon bid Rhaegal land and had the Green Dragon let out a roar to gain the attention of the men who looked his way, most of them looking as if they'd shat themselves or were about to.

"I mean none of you harm other than the man you serve. Should any of you feel the need to stand in my way then it won't be my sword that ends you, but my dragon, so choose wisely." he said loudly and watched as the swords were lowered and bows put away "Good choice."

He climbed down off the dragon's back and with a look to Rhaegal, he then began to move towards the largest of the tents. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a movement and he turned to see Ser Lyn Corbray standing there, his hand a few inches from the hilt of his famed sword.

"Your lady may wish for wolf's blood, Ser Lyn, but you are not the only one who can call upon Valyrian Steel." he said unsheathing Longclaw "This only needs to end with Littlefinger's death, but I have no issue ending you to get to him, so make your move, Ser." there was to be none and Jon smirked as he moved to the tent.

The North 303 AC.

Sansa.

She felt drowsy and cold and it took her a few moments to realize why that was. Her eyes took even longer to focus and when they did, she was stunned to find that she was outdoors and atop a horse. Sansa began to struggle against the arms that were wrapped around her, she tried to call out only to find her voice muffled by the gag that had been tied around her mouth. Turning to look at who her captor was, she saw the smiling face of Littlefinger and she knew exactly how much trouble she was truly in.

"Relax, my love, we'll be free of the North very soon." Littlefinger said and she felt his hand inch closer to her breast, thankfully the horse stirred making him reach for the reins and she was saved from his touches, for now.

The thoughts of what liberties he'd taken when she'd been unconscious were only taken from her by the worry over what ones he intended to once they had stopped riding for the night. She was certain that he would too, that once they had set up camp and he had her alone, nothing would stop him from doing what he'd always wished to. Looking for help from those who rode with them was an exercise in futility. Sansa found to her horror that it was Ser Lyn Corbray and others who were deep in Littlefinger's pocket and not any of the Knights of the Vale who still held to chivalry that they rode with.

Each mile they rode found her looking for some escape or praying for a rescue she doubted would come. Had she been a better sister to Rickon, he'd send men after her. Jon would come if he truly believed her to be part of their pack, something she was sure he no longer did. His words to her had been harsh but true and she had taken them to heart, yet he'd never know that. To him it would seem as if she had made the choice he'd given her and knowing Littlefinger how she did, he'd perhaps have left letters or notes to make it seem even more likely.

She felt his breath at her neck and knew if she moved back on the horse just a little, that wouldn't be all she felt. The trembling of his arms as they wrapped around her was enough to let her know the excitement he felt. A part of her demanded her to run, to jump from the horse and run as fast as she could, but she knew it would be pointless. Littlfinger may not have Ramsay's hounds to run her down but he didn't need them. Out there she was weak and untrained and even if she managed to escape the guards that would chase her down, she'd not last more than a few hours in the cold and she shivered at the thoughts of what that would mean.

"We'll be setting up camp soon, my love, I'll make sure you're warmed up." Littlefinger said in what she assumed he believed was a comforting tone.

They rode for what felt like many more miles before the cold really began to be felt and the darkness of the night's sky halted their progress. There was a brief moment when Littlefinger climbed down off the horse that she almost felt she had a chance to make good her escape, only to notice the guard holding the bow and pointing it in her direction. Even still, she almost took the risk to make a break for it, but then realized it would be the horse and not her that the arrow was aimed at.

She tried not to shudder at the hungry look in Littlefinger's eyes as he helped her down off the horse. Though she was far less successful at doing so when he touched her cheek softly. His expression was now one of anger as he moved her roughly to the fire that had been quickly set up and forced her to sit down facing it. Sansa refused the meal when it was offered to her and so her gag was left in place. Instead, she watched as the guards set up their defenses for the night and she knew that any hope she had of escaping was simply that. Littlefinger had finally gained the prize he had sought for so long and he had no intent of giving it up, much to her horror.

"I think it's time we turned in for the night, my love." Littlefinger said smiling at her as he rose to his feet and offered her his hand, his eyes telling her that if she refused to take it then things would go much harsher for her and so reluctantly she did as he wished.

The smirking faces on the men as he led her to his tent were ones she'd known once before. Ramsay's Bastard Boys had all worn the same looks when they'd looked her way and even Myranda had looked at her as Ser Lyn Corbray was now doing. She could only pray that the knight of Heart's Home suffered a similar fate to the kennel master's daughter. Would that she had hounds around her to ensure that his master suffered Ramsay's fate also.

Unsurprisingly the tent that Littlefinger named his own was far more lavish than the ones his men stayed in. Though compared to the comfort she knew that he liked to travel in, this was almost sleeping out in the open for him. Once inside it, he looked at her and reached up to remove her gag and she felt able to move her mouth once more. When she motioned for the water jug, he allowed her to take the mug and poured it himself. Sansa drank the water down slowly even though she was incredibly thirsty.

"This was not how I wished this to go, my love. I had hoped in time that you'd come to my bed willingly."

"And now you don't care as long as you get me into your bed." she said angrily, her voice hoarse from lack of use.

"The heart wants what the heart wants." Littlefinger said and not even her glaring at him was enough to remove the smile from his face.

She saw the way his eyes roamed over her body, how he practically undressed her with them, and then he reached out his hand towards her.

"This can be pleasant for both of us, Sansa, or just for me, it matters not which."

The smile she gave him brought a surprised look to his face and she swore when she took his hand, he almost swooned. She allowed the first kiss and tried not to move away when his hands began to move down her back and grabbed her arse firmly. When she moved from him, she saw the look of anger only to replace it with a far more lustful one when she began to undo the laces of her dress. Littlefinger lay down on the bed and she did her best not to wretch when his hand moved into his breeches and began to stroke what she could clearly see was an already hard cock.

When he saw her exposed breasts she saw him give an involuntary shudder and she wondered if he'd spent already given how he looked at her. It was when he moved to take down his breeches and she saw that he was still hard that she realized he'd not and that was when she made her move. Ramsay had terrified her into inaction and even had she wished to do something to stop his violations of her body, she'd not been able to. Not then and not with him. It had taken his death to free her from the nightmares that her time with him had inflicted upon her. Taken even longer than that for the resolve in her to grow to where it now was. For her to make the promise to herself that no man would ever take her against her will ever again.

By the time that Littlefinger had removed his shirt, she'd taken the knife from her dress. The dagger had been gifted to her by her sister and she'd trained somewhat in its use. Valyrian steel was sharp though, and Littlefinger for all his cleverness had mayhap never imagined that she'd ever wielded a blade for true. Had he, then this one would surely have been removed and she smiled that in the end, his wits had let him down.

She moved quickly and the knife cut deep into his manhood and upwards, the blood spurting over her hand and the sound of his screams were like the sweetest music she'd ever heard. The second stab was in the chest and the shirt had fallen to the ground by then, allowing her to see his eyes as she moved the knife and jabbed it into his throat. What expression he had on his face as he breathed his last, she couldn't quite name. Shock, surprise, fear, anger, or resignation, it was one or all of them she'd wager. Hearing the tent flap open and the sound of the guards, Sansa prepared for her own end. Images of her family going through her eyes as she moved the knife to her neck and prepared to cut it were soon replaced with looks of confusion from the guards at the sound that came from behind them.

"A Dragon." She heard one of them call out and then she was left alone in the tent with Littlefinger's corpse as the guard ran from her and back outside.

It couldn't be, could it? Why would a dragon come to her aid? Had the Dragon Queen arrived back in the North even earlier than she'd expected? Could Jon or Rickon have convinced her to come looking for her? Was it even her that the dragon was here for? The questions had no true answers and so fixing her dress and ignoring the fact that she was now even more covered in blood than she had been, Sansa looked at Littlefinger to make sure he was truly dead and stepped out of the tent.

"Jon." she called out as she saw her brother stand in front of the Green Dragon with Longclaw in hand and then before she knew it, he'd moved to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"You are well?" he asked concernedly and she nodded "The blood?"

"It's not mine, it's Littlefinger's."

"He's dead? Jon asked and she nodded firmly "Good, he was a cunt. Come, our brother and sister are worried about you, let me take you home."

"Jon I…"

"The pack protects each other, little sister, and you are part of the pack." Jon said and she felt a piece of her heart click back into place at the words and so didn't even question him when he led her to the Green Dragon and helped her up onto its back.

A/N: Up next: Up Next, A queen is coronated in the south while King's landing places host to arrivals from Oldtown and Dorne. A trial of a kingslayer is held and truths revealed while in the North, Sansa finds comfort in her siblings and Rickon makes a suggestion that turns Jon's world upside down. Before Dany, her dragons and her armies head North.

Daryl Dixon: So glad you liked it.

Suppes: You've nothing to worry about on that count, this is Jon/Dany all the way.

Yenerys: Thanks so much, sometimes it can be a chore to switch from one to another but it's a fun chore lol. I think we all agree that the Season 8 Jon was an impostor, as was the endgame Dany, they weren't the character we'd seen to that point and so I've no intent to write them. What's affecting Viserion will be made clearer in a little bit, but as you see Bran has plans for him. Bran is exactly that, creepy is the aptest description of him. You would think Bronn would be too smart to do Tyrion's bidding, but we'll see.

Celexys: You got your wish, LF got his. I enjoyed the fact he died in the show but not so much the execution of it.

Supremus: I misread the Olenna bit, sorry. I could argue that they were naïve because of their honor in that they expected others to behave honorably which is the key thrust of things. The biggest takeaway though is not even truly that, it's that Bookjon is not as honorable and not above doing things that could besmirch his honor, as long as it gets him the result he requires. He's not out and out dishonorable and it's not his first choice, but unlike Ned, he's willing to do so. A nice point would be the line that Ned says to Varys while in the cells, where he says an extra day is not worth the price of his honor. I don't think Jon would feel the same way because he'd more readily accept that an extra day was full of possibilities if that makes sense. To me, Jon is the evolution of Ned/Robb and in dealing with those that they dealt with or that proved themselves dishonorable, he'd be far more ruthless even if it left questions of his honor up in the air. Tyrion in the books is a villainous character and a bit of a monster, the show whitewashed the fact that he was a rapist and murderer and so here I'm pushing him more down that line because of events. You and I disagree on some of the characters and their actions, but I do enjoy the fact that we can speak on it and talk it out, and that we can both be firm in our beliefs and yet still accept the fact that a story allows the characters to go a certain way, without being a judgment on those characters.

Svenion: Tyrion will be around for a bit longer, as for Bronn we'll see.

Kingmanena: I think so too in regards to Jon and also they know he's needed for the war to come, they respect Rickon and can see all the plus sides with him, but he's still a kid. That Jon is a counter to Sansa/Vale also helps. Bran is all Bran, Bloodraven was actually a good guy here. LF as you see has got his. Howland should be arriving next chapter.

Lawkeeper: Thanks for saying that. What I try to do is to introduce an element of change and see where it takes me. Be that in a Jon fostered somewhere or given more support when young or a direct wake-up call by the gods or here, Rickon changing how he thinks and looks on things. The Bran pov above kind of shows the reasoning as to why Rickon being alive is such an issue. I also try to play around as much as I can with different characters, though some like LF will always be the same.

It is funny how Olenna pretty much gave Dany the game plan and yet she ignores it to follow the most complicated drawn-out Tyrion plans ever. Not only does he have no mind for tactics but he gets it all wrong and yet is still who is followed, which doesn't make sense.

LF has both a complex motive and a simple one and unlike Tyrion, he has no problem resorting to the simple. Basically, his plan is as it was, to crown himself with Sansa as queen. But like in canon, that plan requires so many moveable parts, and LF a bit like Tyrion, he goes the long route to get there. I mean him coming North is under the assumption that Sansa will be named Queen, then the Riverlands will swear to her, he brings the Vale and that's 3 vs. Cersei's how many. The Stormlands will go to their side rather than Cersei, Dorne can be brought in because it's Cersei and so we end up where he is. But as I say so many moveable parts. Here he gets to the North and there are obstacles, so he does what he does, comes up with a convoluted way of getting rid of them, but will resort to the simple if needed. When all fails, however, he goes right back to the most simple of plans and basest of desires. The marriage proposal was to evoke a reaction, to create chaos on his part. But yes I'm not above the use of symbolism too lol.

With Sarella, the biggest thing is that no one really speaks about who killed Doran. Dany knows about it because of Varys, but it's not common knowledge or spoken about. So there are no real whispers that Ellaria and the Sand Snakes were involved. Regardless a Martell trumps a Dayne or a Yronwood and that's who Dany is allied to as well, making them who she'd seek to reward and bring closer. As for Ned, we will see him, don't worry. We'll see with Bronn, he may do as you suggest. On Olenna being Hand and who would be her successor or how long she can do the role, watch this space.

I agree on Ned, we could spend every review talking about him. My main thing with Jon is that like I said depending on the when of it, the anger would be more true and last longer. Right now he's in the full flushes of that anger, it's been a few days since he found out the truth and that's understandable. Over time that anger may well dim, but I do think a Jon who died at the Wall would take longer for that anger to dim. Not having Ned around to resolve the issue allows for it to fester too. I am of the belief that had Ned told Jon the truth, he'd probably still have gone to the Wall to protect his siblings. But not being told can only lead to anger IMO.

Keb: We've been finding that this story in particular requires the longer chapters to fit in each of the viewpoints on events, so they will be continuing, as you see lol. Sansa is supposed to leave you confused, she's confused and is kind of all over the place. At heart, she wants to protect her family and to have no one make her do anything she doesn't wish to, to have that sense of control over her life that thus far she's not had. Her issue is that she believes she's best placed to protect her family and is relying on the lessons she learned while in the South, when in truth what she needs to do is be from the North, to be a wolf. Here she used her fangs and so has moved much closer to that.

Lady Octarina: It's funny because when we were speaking of how to use the different animals that came up, having them be smarter and more to the point and more than that, to be the guides to their human bonded. One thing that always struck me is that had they listened to the animals, let them guide them, then things would be different. Grey Wind pretty much told Robb he couldn't trust the Freys, had Jon got Ghost by his side then he couldn't have been killed. Even symbolically with the whole Direwolves pups being left to fend for themselves because a Stag had killed their parent and later Ned being forced to kill a Direwolf to appease a Lioness while a Stag did nothing, the guiding was there.

It's fun having a dragon, it allowed for Jon to make his dramatic entrance. Sansa so does, more so now. That's not the worst idea, lock him in the crypts lol.

It's funny you say that regarding Barbrey as I'm in the middle of plotting out my first real North Centric Jon fic and in that he's raised by Barbrey Dustin.

Moonlight Echoes: Lyanna cuts right to the point and it felt just right making it be her who called Bran out.

Wrysenseofhumour: Exactly, you have these writers trying to subvert expectations at the cost of plot and characters. Having characters do a complete turn or going against all you've previously established simply because they think it makes them seem clever. I'm all for shocks, surprises, twists, and turns, but they have to work and make sense. For me though having characters act and react how they've been shown to do or explaining why they act differently, is more important than being shocking and surprising. You can still pull those moments out and they feel more satisfying when they work then, IMO.

So with the animals, they can't obviously communicate with everyone this way and it's only the fact that Rickon is such a powerful warg, more so than Jon even, which allowed him to communicate how he did with Unicorn and the hawk. For Jon it's the bonded animals that work with him, Rhaegal and Ghost, he couldn't, for example, have a conversation with Nymeria and for Bran, it's all of them.

I fear he won't finish, not only does he write at a snail's pace but he gets distracted so easily too. I also think he's finding that point that happens in stories when you have characters in so many different places and need to bring them together, the logistics of it are bloody annoying. Given where we are in the books and just going by the show as an endpoint. You have to show Stannis death, Arya coming back to WF, Sansa's almost entire story. Dany's arrival, Dorne, fAegon, and of course Jon. Not to mention Bran, Rickon, etc, etc, etc. Getting them all where they eventually need to be is hard work and when you start writing it, you find that it takes up chapter after chapter after chapter. Or you skip things, GRRM doesn't skip things and so what he imagined would take one more book to finish, he now reckons he needs two, who's to say that he won't need three?

I think Sansa can be contradictory, I think more than anything she wants approval and recognition but she can be arrogant and so you're right too. But I do think she wants her mother/father to look at her and be proud, even if she's not as proud of them or Robb. I think her biggest issue is that she doesn't do self-reflection and so everyone else makes mistakes, she does not, in her own mind at least. She needs a shift sharp shock almost which is what we've been building up to here.

Glad you felt that with Lyanna, I agree, showing someone as a badass is cool we like those characters, but you need to show the more human side too. I do think the conflict between Jon/Dany was so incredibly forced and they won't be without some here, but more a logical version and a resolvable one. I do think that is Tyrion too, he does double down at times. Bronn would have no chance against Jon and would probably understand that too, but that's not to say he wouldn't see if it was possible before making his choice.