Sansa
Looking at the sword that leaned up against Rickon's bed made Sansa feel happy. It looked just like the one her father had. Jon was doing his best to keep their spirits high even when he wasn't there. But it didn't change the discontent she felt about him leaving. It felt so impulsive of him to do. But she would do her duty and rule in his stead.
Sansa was nearly down with the finishing touches on the cloak she had been making for Rickon these past few days. She glanced up from her work and saw that Rickon was attempting to stand up from his bed on his own. He could move his legs just fine, but the movement of his upper body seemed to be what was causing him pain still. Had he not had his accident, he wouldn't be in so much pain as he already was. Eventually, he managed to get up, but the feeling of accomplishment felt drowned by the amount of groaning he did.
"How do you feel?" She asked, ready to jump at him if anything happened.
"It feels better, but it hurts when my left shoulder moves anywhere. It hurts when it moves at all really."
"You should wear a sling to keep your arm from swaying." Rickon had insisted on getting out of bed and walking around Winterfell with her. "I know you're getting stronger, but you shouldn't be out of bed until the pain dulls down."
Rickon looked over to her, upset. "I've been in a cell for months until you and Jon took back Winterfell and I'm sick and tired of being confined. I just want to walk around a bit and get some fresh air." He picked up a brown leather tunic and attempted to put it on over his shirt. Before he could even get one arm in, he groaned as he winced back from pain. He looked over to his sister, seeming disappointed. "Can you help me please?"
Sansa sighed as she walked over to Rickon and slipped his right arm inside the tunic and slowly maneuvered the other side onto his body. She then did the laces and secured it snuggly on him. "Lift up your legs while I get your boots. Rickon put his right arm on her to steady himself as she slipped each boot onto his feet. She then did his gloves, before calling for Maester Wolkan. "Could you get us an arm sling maester?"
"Yes, my Lady, I'll only be a minute." Maester Wolkan darted out of the room and momentarily came back with a proper sling. Sansa allowed the maester to dress it on Rickon since she did not know the proper way to do it.
"And now, for the finishing touch." Sansa walked over to her regular chair and picked up the finished cloak for Rickon. She lifted it up high and let the cloak fly over his back as the pelt fell onto his shoulders. She carefully did the straps and took a few steps back to look at him. She couldn't help but smile at her little brother. "If you had a beard, you'd look just like father." Rickon laughed lightly with her as they walked out of his room together.
When they got outside, there was a light snowfall around them that was very comforting. They walked together through the main courtyard. Rickon was looking all around as if he had never seen the castle before. "It doesn't feel the same," said Rickon. "There's too much that's different."
"No there isn't," Sansa politely objected. "There are many parts that have been rebuilt but it's all the same."
"Too many new faces. Where's Tommy and his daughter? Or Mikken or Farlen? All of the Poole daughters. They're all gone from here."
Sansa knew of some who were murdered in the Sacking of Winterfell and of those killed at King's Landing. "Some of them are at the Dreadfort. The time they spent as prisoners took a toll on their bodies. They'll come back, don't worry."
"I hope so. I miss them."
"Me too." Sansa looked over her shoulder and found a pair of red eyes looking back at her and Rickon. "I think someone's waiting for you." She gestured down to where Ghost waited silently for them.
Seeing him brought Rickon's spirits up they were approached by the last of the direwolves they knew to be alive. Ghost met them received a gentle scratch behind the ears from Rickon. "I'm glad that you're still with us, at least."
As they walked through the areas of Winterfell, followed closely by Ghost, they caught the eyes of many of the residents staring at them. Most of them came from Winter Town while others were asked to be here by their lords. Sansa could feel the happiness that the Starks seemed to give to the elderly ones who saw them. It made her feel warm when she remembered that this was what Winterfell used to be.
"Have you seen the dragons at all today?" Rickon asked. "I want to try approaching them again."
"They've gone off to hunt I think. They haven't been sticking close to Winterfell since Jon left."
Sansa could tell Rickon was disappointed. He'd only caught glimpses of them through his window. Seeing them up close would be difficult. The dragons usually kept to themselves when they weren't with Jon. She had only touched them once and they seemed to like her.
One of the Stark guards approached the two of them, interrupting there walk. "Lady Sansa," The guard suddenly noticed Rickon next her and almost panicked for not noticing him earlier, "Lord Rickon, your presence is requested by Maester Wolkan, Lord Royce, and Lord Baelish."
"Thank you, we'll be joining them shortly."
"We?" Rickon asked.
"If you're going to be Lord of Winterfell someday, you'll need to learn responsibilities that go with it." They both followed the guard up to the balconies where the other lords and maester were waiting for them. The guard left them as soon as they reached the lords.
Littlefinger was the first to say something, as he always was. "Lady Sansa, thank you for joining us. And Lord Rickon, it's wonderful to see you recovering so quickly."
"Thank you, Lord Balish," Rickon replied
"Baelish," he corrected with an amused smirk on his face. He turned his gaze to Sansa, "We're now just receiving the sums of wheat the North has farmed over the summer." Littlefinger turned his gaze to the courtyard, gesturing the others to look as well. There were many carts filled with wheat entering into the castle.
"How much do we have?" Sansa inquired.
"Four thousand bushels, my lady" Maester Wolkan answered.
"What does that mean?"
Lord Royce seemed to know the numbers better as he was the one who answered. "For the current occupants of the castle, it's enough food for a year, perhaps more."
Sansa began to walk along the balcony with Rickon and the other lords. She made sure her brother was listening attentively. "And what's the longest winter in the past hundred years?"
"I'm not entirely certain," Maester Wolkan said, "I'll check Maester Luwin's records. He kept a copy of every raven scroll."
They were slowly making their way down the stairs, being cautious for Rickon, "you're telling me we don't have enough food, especially not if the armies of the North come back to defend Winterfell."
Maester Wolkan seemed hesitant to confirm her statement. "No, my lady, most likely not."
"Then we must prepare for that eventuality. Whatever direction the threat comes from, this is the best place to be. We need to start building up our grain stores with regular shipments from every keep in the North. If we don't use it by winters end, we 'll give it back to them. But if the entire North has to flee to Winterfell, then they won't have time to bring wagon loads of grain with them."
"Very wise my lady." Lord Royce commented.
"Maester Wolkan will you see to that?"
"We should ask the Wildlings to help too," Rickon commented. All eyes turned to him. "They've lived their entire lives without a single season of spring. So they should know some things about surviving winter far better than us, I bet."
"He makes a fair point." Lord Baelish agreed. "If the Wildlings are to live in the North now, they should start earning their keep."
"Agreed," Sansa said. "See to it that a meeting with the clan elders is arranged for later today." Maester Wolkan bowed his head and departed from their group as the entered the armorer's corner of the castle. Sansa stopped and watched a smith hammering down a steel breastplate and had a realization. "Are they covering those breastplates in leather?"
"No, my lady." Lord Royce said.
"Shouldn't they be? Once the real cold comes?" This was only the beginnings of winter after all.
"They should indeed, pardon me, my lady." Lord Royce broke off from the four of them and approached the smiths as they continued to walk around the castle.
Rickon tugged on Sansa's cloak to get her attention. "Can I stay with Lord Royce? I want to watch the smiths make the armor."
She was hesitant at first, but then she remembered that Rickon was still only a boy. "Just stay with him at all times until I'm done, alright?"
Rickon smiled at her and walked with Ghost back to the smiths and Lord Royce. The only one left with her was unfortunately Littlefinger. "Command suits you. The Northerners are all facing north, worried about the threat from beyond the Wall."
"So they should be."
"I know Cersei better than anyone here," Sansa always felt like Littlefinger was always impressed with himself with everything he said, yet he didn't spend years at a time with her watching his every move. "If you turn you back at her-"
"You don't know Cersei better than anyone here."
"I only meant to say-"
"That the woman who murdered my father, mother, and brother is dangerous? Thank you for your wise counsel." She was tired of him constantly trying to prod at her with his words.
Littlefinger did seem a bit irritated for a moment, but his composure didn't break. "One of two things will happen. Either the dead will defeat the living in which case, all our troubles come to an end." He stepped in front of her to try and raise the value of the point he was trying to get across. "Or life will win out. And what then? Don't fight in the north, or the south. Fight every battle, everywhere, always, in your mind. Everyone is your enemy, everyone is your friend. Every possible series of events is happening, all at once." Sansa seemed to understand little of what he said, but more of how Littlefinger played the game. "Live that way, and nothing will surprise you. Everything that happens will be something that you see before."
Their conversation was broken by a guard running towards them. "Lady Sansa!" he called out. She was startled when he addressed her. "At the gate."
Sansa looked back at Littlefinger, wishing she hadn't when she saw a small smile on his face before she left with the guard. As they approached the gates, Sansa noticed many people were crowding around a wagon that had just entered. She made her way around to the back and lost all the air in her lungs when she saw who was in it. He looked so different, but she recognized Bran immediately. His gaze turned at her and he seemed to be unsurprised to see her. She couldn't seem to say anything, she was lost for words. For a brief moment, she could see a smile come upon him, but it faded away as soon as it appeared.
"Hello, Sansa." To hear his voice made her eyes begin to tear up. She couldn't help but jump up to him and hug him. She didn't care if people could see her crying. She was happy and didn't want anyone to take that away from her.
"Bran!" Rickon voices sounded behind them as he immediately climbed onto the wagon carefully and hugged his brother. "I knew you'd come back to us." They let of Bran and Rickon looked over to a girl Sansa didn't know. She was dressed like a Wildling, but she didn't look like one. "Meera!" Rickon slowly climbed off and quickly went to hug her as well.
"Hello, Rickon." She whispered out to him.
"Meera!" a low voice bellowed out. Sansa looked over to one of the lords, shoving people aside as he approached the wagon. As soon as he made it to the girl, Rickon let go of her as the lord embraced her.
"Father," she seemed to be on the verge of tears. "Jojen, he-"
"It's alright Meera, Jojen told me he wouldn't be coming home when you both left. He knew what he was getting into." He looked down at her, his face was both sad and happy. "I couldn't be any prouder of you than I am now."
"Howland Reed" Bran softly spoke. The lord looked up from his daughter and to Bran. "We have a lot to talk about."
Sansa had arranged for Bran and Meera to have better clothes brought to them. The cloaks of rabbit furs looked warm, but not warm enough. Bran wanted to be brought next to the weirwood tree in the Godswood, and Meera seemed to accompany him wherever he went. They were joined by Rickon before Sansa had asked Meera to give them some time alone.
Sansa was sitting down with Rickon while Bran sat up against the weirwood tree. "I wish Jon were here." She announced openly.
"Yes, I need to speak to him." She wasn't expecting that kind of reaction from him. But now that she looked at him, she could see that he didn't really react to anything. He seemed to be staring out into the distance as if something was there.
Rickon broke the silence that seemed to follow. "Bran, you're the older brother, and you're the next son after Robb." Bran gaze finally turned to them. "You're the Lord of Winterfell now."
"I can never be Lord of Winterfell," he said, "I can never be lord of anything, I'm the Three Eyed Raven."
"I thought the Three Eyed Raven was beyond the Wall," Rickon said, confused.
"He was, he died, and now I'm what he was."
Sansa looked at the two of them, very confused. "I don't know who that is."
"It's difficult to explain."
"Try, please, for me."
Bran looked at her so emptily. "The Three Eyed Raven isn't really a person, it's a gift. I can see everything. Everything that's ever happened. Everything that's happening right now. It's all pieces now, fragments. I need to learn to see better. When the Long Night comes again, I need to be ready."
There was screech coming above them all. The dragons had flown down into the Godswood. They began to approach Bran, seeming curious. Sansa only saw them get close to Jon the way they were now.
"Ygris and Lyarras" Bran said. The two dragons seemed to cry out to him in excitement when he said their names. He turned his head to Rickon, "you wanted to see them today, now's your chance. They won't hurt you."
Rickon looked at them nervously. Sansa knew all too well the excitement you have when you want to do something and then the fear of actually doing it. The dragons slowly made their way to Rickon, quietly screeching at him. He extended his hand ad his fingers brushed against Lyarras' snout. He let out a small laugh of joy as he continued to pet the blue dragon.
Ygris approached Ghost, eyeing the direwolf with her fiery amber eyes before looking at Sansa and coming to her. The white dragon purred softly as she sniffed at the knees of Sansa's dress. This was the first time in a long while she got to be near the dragons again. Seeing them always marveled her greatly. "They're much bigger than last I got this close," she said.
"They grow at a fast rate, faster that Daenerys Targaryen's dragons," Bran told them. "In a few more months, they'll be rideable. It's the magic that's doing it."
"What?" Sansa asked.
"Dragons feed on magic as well as food. The dragons of Valyria were so large because all the magic that the Valyrians possessed. There isn't as much of it in the North, but the Night King seems to give off some himself. And the weirwood trees contain their own form of it. The Children of the Forest put it there when they carved the faces into them."
"How do you know all this?"
"The Three Eyed Raven showed me when the dragons were born."
Sansa remembered that Rickon said that there was a Three Eyed Raven beyond the wall. "The one before you?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"I told you it's difficult to explain."
"Bran, I-"
"I'm sorry for all that's happened to you. I'm sorry it had to happen here, in our home." Sansa fell silent. How did he know of her time here when the Boltons ruled? She didn't tell him about it yet. "It was so beautiful that night. Snow falling, just like now." Sansa was starting to feel scared. "And you were so beautiful, in your white wedding dress." She never told anyone the details of the wedding. Just thinking about that night made her uneasy.
"I have to go back inside, Bran." Sansa stood up as quick as she could, not wanting to hear any more of what he would say to prove his point.
"I'll stay a bit longer."
"I'll stay with him," Rickon said.
Sansa was already gone from them. She wanted to be happy that her brother was back, but in her heart in no longer felt that he was. It felt like a stranger wearing his face was here instead.
