May 20th, 1917, Winterfell
It was the day the boys and Margery were to board a train and begin their journey. Everyone had tried their best to put on a brave face. The days leading up to this day had actually been full of laughter and smiles. Everyone did their best to celebrate and cherish their time to together. A ball had been held at Winterfell the night before. This morning, Sansa woke up to her feet still aching and the muscles in her legs and shoulders still sore from dancing so much. She was glad her mother decided to have the event. It was what everyone needed. One final distraction before their sons and daughters were gone. Sansa feared once they left, she'd never see them again.
"You're looking at me like you love me, Sansa Stark," Theon had teased. He was always making light of situations, teasing her and flirting with every girl he turned about the dancefloor. She laughed it off, but she wondered if saying she did would make a difference in Theon—or any of them for that matter—getting on the train bound for war. She got up from her bed and stared to wash and dress herself. She selected a white dress with a light blue sash around the waist and lace on the bodice and hem. She put her hair in a braid and went downstairs. She was the last one to arrive at the breakfast table. No one spoke except Robb and Rickon. Sansa noticed her mother was not eating. Her father was glancing at her mother with a worried expression. Uncle Benjen spoke very little, but when he did, it was in murmurs only Jon or Ned could hear. Today, everyone looked older.
The train left at noon, so they had a couple hours to walk about Winterfell. The younger Stark children walked somberly with their brother and cousin. They couldn't help feeling the gravity of it all even though Robb was full of spirit, saying every nice thing he could about each of them, and of course mentioning Margery Tyrell at every opportunity that made sense. Sansa stole a glance at Jon, and for a moment she understood Margery's motives. Margery wanted every moment she could have with Robb, and every chance she could to make sure he was safe. Margery was brave, and Sansa admired her immensely for it. Margery was ready to face danger in a way Sansa didn't think she ever could. She wished she was more like Margery.
"Oh come on now!" Robb exclaimed, "smile!"
"Why should we smile?" Arya asked, "You're going off to war—what if something happens? You could be killed!" All of them stopped walking when Arya did. A tense silence came over the grounds as Arya's mention of death hit the air, freezing time. Robb faced his siblings. He had broad shoulders, a strong jawline, and eyes that looked right through you. Robb was handsome, whether he smiled or not, and he smiled frequently.
"I need you to smile so that it's the most recent memory I have of you, sister." His voice was gentle. It made Sansa want to cry. Instead, she smiled. If Robb held on to any memory of her, she hoped it was this one of her being brave and strong like him.
'Now who's going to race me to the beech tree?" he challenged. He ran off with his three youngest siblings close behind. Jon stopped when he noticed Sansa was standing still.
"Are you alright?" he asked. She could only shake her head. He walked back to stand in front of her. He gently held her at arm's length inspecting her. She wasn't trembling or unsteady that he could see. Her eyes were in focus.
"What's wrong?" Sansa did not answer.
"Are you feverish?" he asked as he put the back of his hand to her forehead and then her cheek. Her temperature seemed normal. When he put his hand to her cheek, she grabbed it and held it there, squeezing it tight.
"Please don't go," she said, "you, Robb, Theon, Margery…you don't have to go."
"Sansa…"
"You can all stay here."
"Sansa."
"You can all be at Winterfell and find some other way to support the war effort. We'll make blankets or hats or—"
"Sansa!" She let her thoughts retreat from her lips back to her mind. Jon continued, "We're going. We don't have to, but we chose to. We gave our word."
"But why?"
"We've been over this," Jon exhaled, frustrated.
"I don't want to lose any of you."
'You won't."
"You can't say that!"
"I—"
"No! Don't lie to me Jon! You don't know that. Any of you—all of you even—could die. You could go and never come back, and you know it!" Jon stayed quiet. She was right.
"I know. I'm sorry…but I have to go."
Sansa ducked her head in an attempt to hide the tears that threatened to spill out over her cheeks. She hated his sense of duty and honor. What good was your honor if you were dead? She was angry at Jon, and hurt that he was so stubborn and set on leaving, but most of all she was scared. They were alone with the white roses in the garden. Their parents had gone inside, and by now Arya, Bran, Rickon, and Robb were on the far side of the yard hidden amongst the tall and shading trees. Jon kissed her forehead tenderly letting himself linger a few seconds. Sansa closed her eyes to memorize the moment. It could be the last time he ever kissed her.
"Now let's join the rest of our family," Jon encouraged. They walked along the path to meet the other Starks and head back to the house. It was time to go to the station.
At the station, they all said their goodbyes to friends and family. Sansa hugged her brother tight, letting a few tears fall into his shirt.
"Now Sana, stay strong and take care of things for me," he said as he cupped her cheek in his hand, "you've got to make sure Father gets out every once in a while. Take him for a walk or something. You know how he gets stuck to his books." Sansa smiled and wondered at Robb. Only he could make her smile when she didn't want to and make her discover it was much better than her preferred alternative. This must have been why he and Jon were such good friends. Robb's smiles were infectious, even now.
"Of course I will," she replied. Next she said goodbye to Margery.
"I don't know what I'll do without you here," she said.
"I'll write to you, every step of the way. I promise." Margery said as she squeezed Sansa's hands.
Sansa at last bid farewell to Jon. She didn't say anything to him, or he to her. They stood looking at each other for a moment before Sansa closed the distance. She held him tight, feeling his warm body against her, and she didn't want to let go. She wouldn't let go.
"Sansa, people are watching," Jon warned her softly, but his arms remained strongly around her.
"I don't care," she answered. He held her tighter. She was glad for it. He was holding her together. She was sure when he let go she would fall to pieces on the platform.
"Come back to me," she whispered to him, her breath warming his skin.
"I will," he replied, and knew that to be a promise.
Sansa pulled away from him with great difficulty and watched them all disappear on the train. They sat in the windows: Theon, Robb, Jon, and Margery. Sansa watched as Robb took Margery's hand in his and brought it up to his lips. At least they had each other, she thought.
The Starks, Tyrells, and Greyjoys all stood on the platform long after the train was gone, staring after their loved ones. It wasn't real until now. Now, everyone had holes in their family that could only be repaired with peace.
Sansa looked at her own family, all of them finding comfort in each other. Sansa went to hug her mother. As she held her she looked over her mother's shoulder. She saw Uncle Benjen then, standing alone, staring at the place the train used to be.
'Mother, may I go back to the house with Uncle Benjen?"
"Yes, of course," she replied with a watery voice. The following months would be hard for her. At least Mother and father have each other, thought Sansa, who did Uncle Benjen have? Sansa approached her Uncle, but she wasn't sure what to do or say.
"Sansa," her uncle greeted her, "hello dear."
"Hello, Uncle. Could I accompany you back to the house?"
"Of course my dear, he said as he offered her his arm, "I would love the company." They walked a few steps behind the rest of the Starks.
"I'm glad you and Jon came to Winterfell last Christmas," she said, trying to start conversation.
"I'm glad we were invited. It was quite wonderful to have some peace. And I really appreciate how much of an effort you made to ensure Jon felt welcome."
"It was nothing," Sansa replied.
"On the contrary, my girl. It was something—you made him feel at home. That is not always easily achieved for Jon," Uncle Benjen paused before continuing, "he told me what you did for him Christmas morning at the church." Sansa felt her cheeks flush.
"Thank you, Sansa. Truly. You've been such a good influence on Jon these last months."
"I couldn't influence him to stay," she lamented.
"No one could," Benjen replied, "I think you know that. I know you have grown to care about him a good deal, Sansa, and I know you don't want to see him harmed. Neither do I. But I think that same reason is why he left. He feels that way about us, and that is why nothing we could have said would have made him stay."
'I know you're right," Sansa sighed, "I just don't like it."
"Can I tell you a secret?" Sansa nodded.
"Neither do I," he confided with a smile that Sansa could not help but return. Benjen was glad he could make his niece smile. It was a small smile, but it was there.