Sansa

Castle Black had not been what Sansa had expected. She expected something resembling Winterfell, but what she saw was a poor excuse for a fort that looked like it could barely house two hundred men. The place almost looked insulting to the grandeur if the Wall.

"Halt!" A scrawny man in black called out from the portcullis of the castle. "Who goes there?" He had a bow an arrow at the ready as if expecting trouble. It was confusing given that he was threatened by a warrior woman, her squire, and a lady.

Brienne shouted back at him. "My name is Brienne of Tarth! I demand an audience with Lord Commander Jon Snow and request that you open the gates to us! We are in great need of food and rest."

"What business do you have Lord Snow?" He asked as another man joined him, but this one was not in Night's Watch garb, he was covered in furs. He was a wildling.

Before Brienne could respond, Sansa became tired of this and revealed her business. "He's my brother! I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell!"

The man above the gate looked at her wide-eyed for a moment before bringing a horn to his lips and blew into it. "Open the gates!"

The gates open for them and they guided their horses forward. The inside of the castle looked worse than the outside. There were signs of repair and maintenance, but it must not have been properly tended to for decades.

But the thing that got their attention the most was a giant. It was covered in furs and giant bones for clothes and almost looked more like an animal than a large person. It eyed them and bared his teeth a little. "Lokh kif rukh?" His voice felt it could shake the ground.

"Kur fekh rin dahg!" a wildling shouted up to the giant before turning his attention to Sansa, Brienne, and Podrick. "It's not good to stare at giants. They's shy folk. And when they's not shy, they's angry. Pound ya right into the ground like a nail."

Sansa dismounted her horse and looked around at the men inside. She noticed that the majority of them weren't dressed in black, but they were in furs. 'Wildlings, what are so many Wildlings doing here? And why aren't they attacking us?' She noticed a mass of white fur and red eyes among the men and realized that she was looking at a direwolf. It was relieving to her to see Ghost was still alive among his litter. Grey Wind and Lady met fates they didn't deserve.

Ghost was larger than she imagined any of the direwolves to get. He trotted over to and lifted head up to her.

"Hello, Ghost." She stroked the fur of his head but he kept looking at her silently. He definitely deserved his name.

Sansa turned around and looked up at some men watching down from a balcony. For a brief moment thought she was looking at her father, but it was actually Jon, dressed in northern leather armor. He was so different since she last saw him. He looked more of a warrior than the bastard son of a highborn lord. He walked down some steps and slowly approached her. There he was, right in front of her. He was the only family she had seen for years, and probably the only one left alive. She didn't see him as her father's bastard anymore, but her brother. She tightly embraced him tightly and he her, finally accepting that for the first time in a long time she was truly with someone who she wanted to be with.

She loosened her grip on him and looked at him once again, happy and also still confused that he wasn't in black like the men of the Night's Watch. 'Is this really you?'

"We have a lot to talk about." His voice was different as well. It was deeper and stronger with the Northern accent.

"We do."

Jon turned to Brienne and Podrick. "Who are they?"

Brienne stepped forward. "My name is Brienne of Tarth. I was sworn to Lady Catelyn Tully before her death. I am now sworn to protect Lady Sansa with my life."

"And my name is Podrick, my lord, Podrick Payne. I'm her squire."

"They saved me from the Boltons." Sansa told Jon.

Jon nodded and offered his hand to Brienne who accepted it. "Thank you for protecting her. You all must be hungry." He turned to one of the men wearing black. "See to it that they're fed."

"Yes, lord commander."

"I'm not the Lord Comman-" The man was already gone before Jon could finish. He sighed out in agitation.

"What do you mean?" Sansa asked. I was told that you were the Lord Commander."

Jon looked at her nervously. "Let's get you inside. We have a lot to talk about." He led her into his solar and sat her down next to his roaring hearth. Ghost followed them in and laid down next to them. "I'm pretty sure you have as many questions as me. Want to take turns?"

Sansa nodded with half a smile. "Why are there wildlings here?"

Jon turned into his brooding self as he pulled a chair next to her and sat down next to her. "I let them through the Wall to save them from something worse in the north." he paused, trying to think what to say. "Until you entered the gates, did you think giants were just a story?"

"Not anymore." Sansa admitted. "I remembered Uncle Benjen telling stories about them once, but I didn't believe him."

"Right, neither did I. We thought the things from stories were just that. But we've seen they're not. And it's not just giants. The White Walkers are real too."

Before today, Sansa might have laughed at that. It was such a silly thing to say was real, but so were giants but there was one in the courtyard of the castle. "Are you sure?"

"I've seen them. I've seen one take a baby boy in the night. I've seen steel shatter against the touch of their icy skin. I've seen them kill a hundred thousand wildings and watched as their bodies rose up from the ground as part of their army. That's why I let them through." He stared into the flames of the fire. "But to some, that wasn't a good enough reason why." He looked back at her. "My turn. Last I heard you were wed to Roose Bolton's bastard. Remmy? Ronnsey?"

"Ramsay, and I wasn't wed, I was sold by Petyr Baelish."

"Petyr Baelish? Isn't that the name of the man who Uncle Brandon dueled for Lady Catelyn?"

"Yes, him. He gave me to the Bolton's. Every day I spent in Winterfell with them was worse than any hell there is." The only positive about it was being away from Cersei. She would be dead if she was still in King's Landing.

"How'd you escape?" He asked.

Sansa didn't answer immediately, afraid of Jon's reaction. "Theon helped me."

"What?" Jon's tone was angry, very angry. "The man who betrayed Robb and killed two innocent boys helped you escape?"

"He didn't kill Bran and Rickon. He told me he couldn't track them so he killed two farm boys and burned the bodies so no one could tell it wasn't them."

Jon sat in silence for a brief moment, looking relieved and hopeful. "You say that as if it excuses Theon for what he did."

"It doesn't. Believe me, I don't forgive him for what he's done, but I also don't hate him anymore. I feel sorry for him."

"You feel sorry for him." Jon sounded as if couldn't believe her.

"The man we knew as Theon Greyjoy died a long time ago when Ramsay captured him. He kept calling himself Reek until he saved me from an arrow aimed right at me. Whoever Theon was, it's not who is now."

"I'm never going to forgive him," Jon hissed.

"He didn't expect you to. He doesn't want you to."

"I know that he didn't kill them. One of my brothers met Bran two years ago. He went north of the Wall. I don't know if he's still alive and rickon wasn't with him. I don't know where they are." There was a knock on the door. "Come in." Jon called out.

Podrick with a bowl of soup and some ale. "Pardon, but I brought some food." He delivered the soup to Sansa and the ale to Jon and then left them alone.

Sansa was hungry, but wanted to know more first. "Ramsay told me were elected the Lord commander of the Night's Watch, yet you're not in black."

Jon took a deep drink of his ale first. "I fulfilled my vows and was released from the Watch."

Sansa never knew the vows could be fulfilled. "I thought the vows were for life."

He looked at her, the expression he had looked unsure. "It's complicated."

"Then uncomplicate it."

Jon sighed out before standing up and undoing the straps of his armor.

"What are doing?"

He paused. "Do you truly believe me about the White Walkers and their army of dead soldiers."

"As much as I don't want to, I do."

"And I'd never tell a lie, you know that right?"

"I do."

He hesitated to speak. The words were there, but he wasn't saying them. "When I let the Wildlings through to save them from dead, some of the men didn't like my decision, so… they killed me."

Sansa heard him but had to hear it again. "What?"

"This is something you won't believe unless you see and once you do, don't ask me to show you again. The scars still haunt me." He did the last strap and pulled it off, over his shoulders and set it aside. He lifted his shirt up just enough to reveal several scars along his body. "I was stabbed by my brothers and left to die in the snow."

Sansa gasped when she saw them, almost dropping her bowl. She hadn't seen many scars of battle, but these looked deep, so deep they would kill. She heard him right, she just couldn't believe him. "But-if-" her words fumbled in her mouth. She understood why he didn't want her to see them again. The wounds were more unbelievable than White Walkers.

Jon dropped his shirt down and hid the scars. "I was brought back by a Red Priestess. A part of me wishes she hadn't. I remember dying. That shouldn't be something anyone has to remember. I don't feel the same as I was." He slipped his armor back on and took another drink of ale.

Sansa couldn't fully understand what he meant by feeling the same, and she didn't want to. "What was it like?"

Jon gazed into the fire in front of them. His brooding was getting more constant. "I can't describe it. It was that feeling you have right before you realize your dreaming and wake up, only you don't dream. You feel trapped."

Sansa remained quiet. She could see how much he changed, but he felt the same as he had always been back at Winterfell. Still brooding as always. It made her smile. "You're here now, and you're still my brother."

Jon looked at her, smiling. She could see the joy he felt when she said that. His eyes fell to the floor and his smile died. "There's something else you should know, but you can't tell anyone outside of Castle Black. One last thing that will sound impossible."

"What is it?" Sansa was curious as to what else could have happened to Jon during his time at Castle Black. Everything so far was just dread and morbid.

"After I let the Free Folk through the Wall, we had a funeral for our Maester. His name was Aemon Targaryen."

"Aemon Targaryen, the uncle of the Mad King?"

"Trust me, he was the exact opposite of mad. He was one of the few good men in the Watch. He wasn't a secretive sort of person, but he had two he kept for years until his death. Two dragons eggs."

Sansa's eyes widened. "Dragon eggs?"

"Aye, kept them hidden away here."

Sansa was not expecting that. "Can I see them?"

Jon shook his head, but he had a smirk about his face. "He had us place them on his funeral pyre before we ignited it. When it was reduced to ash, I found two baby dragons in what remained."

Sansa playfully scoffed at him, but upon looking at him eye to eye, she could tell that he wasn't joking. Seeing giants and scars of death and learning that White Walkers were real was almost overwhelming, but dragons born from ash was taking too unbelievable. "You have got to joking."

"I wish I was, but I'm not. Ask any man of the Watch here, they'll tell you the same thing. I'd show them to you, but they're gone now." His voice sounded distressed.

Considering everything going on and everything she was learning, she couldn't not believe him. "Did they die?"

Jon shook his head "I wasn't in the best position to keep them here, so I tried to have them sent to the Targaryen Queen in Essos. But, the man I sent was attack and the dragons escaped. Now… I have no idea where they could be. Just like our brothers, and Arya."

Sansa was very amazed at him and was he's faced at the Wall. There was more magic happening here in the North than in the whole world. "I've heard about her when I was in King's Landing. People kept saying she has dragons, only a few believe that. I heard that Tywin Lannister believed it which meant it had to be true. That man wouldn't believe in rumors unless they were absolutely true."

Sansa finally felt her hunger get the better of her. She lifted her bowl to her lips and drank its contents. It was nice and warm. "It's good soup." She felt the need to change the subject before things become weirder than they already did. "Do you remember those kidney pies old nan used to make?"

"With the peas and onions." The memory brought smiles to their faces, but not for very long. "We never should've left Winterfell."

The day they left home, everything in their lives began down the path of catastrophe. "Don't you wish we could go back to the day we left? I want to scream at myself don't go you idiot!"

"How could know what would have happen? Before I took my vows I started to suspect unbelievable things were beyond the Wall, but I never imagined White Walkers and dragons."

"I saw what Joffrey really was on the road. I didn't let myself accept it and Lady died because of it. I'm glad that Ghost is still with you." Ghost's head perked up at the mention of his name. Sansa gave him a little scratch behind the ears. "I spent a lot of time thinking about what an ass I was to you. I wish I could change everything."

"We were children." He assured her.

"I was awful just admit it."

Jon snickered at her. "You were occasionally awful. I'm sure I can't have been grateful when I was sulking in the corner while the rest of you played."

"Can you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive."

"Forgive me!" She playfully demanded.

"Alright I forgive you." Just hearing that made her glad. She didn't need to ask it, but it made her feel better about it. She reached out her arm for the horn ale Jon had. He gladly gave it to her and watched her take a drink. The moment it entered her mouth, she regretted it. The ale was bitter and sour and caused her to choke on it. This made Jon laugh. She like hearing him be like this.

"We can fight the dead, birth dragons, but you'd think after thousands of years the Night's Watch would've learn to make a good ale."

She handed the horn back to him. She only now remembered that he was no longer sworn to the Night's Watch and he had no place at the castle any longer. "Where will you go?"

He looked at her, surprised. "I'm going to look for my dragons. And where I'm going, you're coming with me. If I don't watch over you, father's ghost will come back and murder me."

"Where will we go?" She corrected.

"The dragons were going to Eastwatch before they escaped capture. But I think we should look west. I can't explain it but I think they're somewhere in the mountains."

"And while the Bolton's rule do you think they'll let us look without any bother? There's only one place we can go, home."

Jon snorted at the idea. "What, should we just tell them to pack up and leave?"

"We'll take it back from them."

"I have a direwolf, I don't have an army."

"How many Wildlings did you save?" There had to be more than what was at the castle.

"They didn't come here to serve me-"

She stood up from her chair and place her bowl on a table behind them. "They owe you their lives! You think they'll be safe here if Roose Bolton remains Warden of the North? Do you think your dragons will?"

"Sansa-"

"Winterfell is our home. It's ours, and Arya's, and Bran's, and Rickon's, wherever they are. It belongs to our family and we have to fight for it."

"I'm tired of fighting!" Jon stood up and faced her. "It's all I've done since I left home. I've killed Brothers of the Night's Watch, I've killed Wildlings, I've killed men I admire, I hanged a boy younger than Bran! I fought and I lost. I'm tired of leading men to their deaths."

Sansa never expected him to be like this. Most boys dream of fighting as soldiers in wars, slaying their enemies. But here is a man who understood the truth about war. There's never glory in it, only death. "If we don't take back the North, we'll never be safe. I want you to help me, but I'll do it myself if a have to."

There was a moment of silence before Jon broke it. "Wherever you go, I'll follow."