My heart has always been my guide, it brought me here, to these people, and while they have no need of me now, they will again one day, so, for now, I shall sleep. Sleep and watch over them as they grow and change, are replaced by new faces who are still as dear to be as those who have come before them.


"Rickon Stark, you come back from there right this instance."

He ignored his Mother's echoing calls in favour of sweeping the snow from the ice, gazing past his own reflection to look beneath.

"Hello." He whispers when at last his eyes focused on the being beneath the ice.

She floats suspended in the water, her hair billowing around her form in a halo of red locks, much like his own he imagines.

"I came to see you again, just like I said I would." He tells her, ignoring the pain in his hands from pressing against the ice for longer than he should.

The crunch of snow had his gaze whipping upward towards the approaching figure.

"Your Mother is searching for you Rickon," His Father said with a soft smile as he stopped before the ice, and Rickon wondered if his weight would be enough to break it. "Is there a reason for you to be in the Gods wood peering into the spring?"

"The Lady! She's beneath the ice." He explained, for a moment wondering if should tell his Father or not before deciding to go with the first.

No sooner had the words lift his lips did his Lord Father stride forward upon the ice, crouching beside Rickon to peer in the ice, his lips frowning when he did not see what Rickon had seen.

"You shouldn't lie about such things Rickon, tricks based on the death of a person should never be spoken."

Confused Rickon peered again into the dark water beneath the ice, finding once again the Red-haired Lady floating just beneath them.

"Rickon!" His Lady Mother's voice called and chancing a peek at his Father he knew it was time to answer her call, but as he left, his Father guiding him least he vanishes again, he couldn't help but look back, the ice gleaming red for just a moment as if the lady's hair had brushed up against it.


I understand that growing old is a part of life,

But it scares me.

The thought that I might lose you one day


"Return to Winterfell. You'll be safe once you reach the Gods wood, but you must reach it." Bran had said, grasping his hand in his own. "Only Stark blood can awaken those who sleep within."

This had been his brothers parting words before they had gone their separate ways, before they been captured, and forced to kneel before the new Lord of Winterfell.

"Rickon Stark," his names sounded like it had been dipped puss, it oozed from the man's mouth in the most sickening manner, which left shivers down his spine from where he be forced to kneel. "To think that the last true Stark would find his way home, but oh, it doesn't belong to the Starks anymore, does it?"

Rickon didn't answer, simply kept his gaze on the cold dead eyes of Shaggydog who lay before him, Osha's gaze heavy on him from his side.

He felt empty, his connection to Shaggydog had been severed when the big man had taken them hostage.

"He hasn't spoken since the wolf died, it's like he's broken." The big man said, sneering down at him.

The pale man chuckled. "I'd very much like to kill you now, but it seems your brother has gathered an army, I think it would be nice for me to allow you both to meet once last time,"

Rickon scratched his nails against the cold floor, inching closer to the sever head of his departed wolf. He filched and grabbed it which a boot covered foot kicked it in his direction.

"Am I not generous, allowing you to keep a piece of him with you." The pale man asked, bending down slightly so that Rickon could peer into his cold pale blue eyes. "Say thank you."

He glares, hands protectively cradling Shaggydog to his chest. "Thank you."

The pale man's face tries to create something like a smile, but it's twisted in such a way that Rickon's stomach churns at the sight.

"I'll have someone bring you to a prepared room, we aren't savages like your companion here, we know how to treat guests."

"I'd like," His voice is barely more than a whisper, but the man hears him, eyebrow-raising in humour. "I'd like to go to the Gods woods."

The man seems surprised, his eyes widening for barely a moment before he titles his head, eyes roaming over both Rickon and Osha before nodding his head.

"Lord Rickon wishes to see the Gods wood before he is brought to his room, see to it that he is watched over." The pale man says to someone standing behind him.

He keeps the Shaggydog's head close to his chest as he is brought to his feet, the hands of the men who lead him are unyielding and will surely leave marks upon his skin from how tightly they grip him.

The castle itself is not something he remembers well, it doesn't feel like home, as Bran had explained this place to be, instead he feels more like a stranger wandering the halls as he is lead outside. It is only once the sight of the red tear faced tree is before him that he finds he can breathe again.

The men leading him shove him forward, his body frail from hungry and loss, mean he doesn't have the strength to catch himself before he falls, and Shaggydog's head rolls from his grip, landing on the ice-covered pond.

He wills himself forward to his collect the head, he will not allow it to leave his sight, not now that a piece of his beloved wolf is back within his grip.

Red.

As he kneels on the ice to collect the head, he sees it. Red hair, floating beyond reach just beneath the ice.

Uncaring, he rubs his hand against the ice to shift the layer of ice that coats to the top so that he might see better.

Beneath, she floats as he remembers, suspended in the water that surrounds her. For a single moment, he forgets where he is, who he is, and what has become of his family, for a moment he is a child again watching her float beneath the ice, frozen as if in time, hidden from the world, but never from him.

Without knowing why, he finds that Brans words come to mind as he gazes upon the sleeping beauty.

"I am a Stark of Winterfell."

As if a spell has been broken, her eyes flash open and he finds himself unable to move, he cannot tear his eyes from the girl who floats beneath, whose red hair hides away her face, but through it, he can see her eyes, blue as the cold winter sky.

"Alright, you've had enough time to sit and wallow, come!" Hands grip him and pull him away, Shaggydog's head still laying upon the ice.

He finds the strength to fight in that moment, trashing, and screeching as he tried to pull free, but all stops the moment the ice cracks, the sound loud and drawing the attention of the three men who hold Rickon in their grips.

The frozen ice around Shaggydog's head splits again, a circle forming around the head as the men watching look on until finally, the ice drops without warning. Shaggydog's head disappearing in a single second to the shock of those watching.

It is silent in that moment, the hands loosen around for a moment, and he throws himself forward on the ice, within arm's reach of the hole which has come to be.

Barely a second has passed before a pale hand slips forth from the icy water, droplets of water clinging to the pale skin as it pierces the ice with its claw-like nails, pulling itself upwards.

She emerges from the ice naked and pale; horns of a pale blue protrude from the side of her head to tilt upwards towards the sky and scales coat pieces of her body, but while the men gaze at her in shock, Rickon gazes at the being in her other hand, which she sets down gently as she stands to her full height.

Shaggydog, full and whole lays unmoving upon the ice for a moment, before Rickon sees his chest slowly move up and down, and then green eyes which had lost their colour in death suddenly lock with his own as the wolf's eyes snap open.

Tears brimming in his eyes, he flung himself forward to gather the wolf's head into his hands. Trembling fingers brushed the fur around his neck where once it had only been a head. "Shaggydog." He whispered the name, tears spilling as the wolf licks at his tears.

"Who are you?" One of the men roars as they pull their blades, while the third man runs to seek help, his roars for a Lord Bolton echoing around the Gods wood.

"I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell," she says, and Rickon feels like the words are meant for him and not the men who flash the sliver of their blades.

Naked, and with hair as red as the tree leaves above the, she steps in front of him, shielding him from the gazes of the men who had brought him harm. A tail the blue scales moves to encircle his wrist, and yet he is not afraid of the being.

The pale man storms in with a large group of men, he has a splatter of blood upon his face and clothed and Rickon knows that Osha is gone. His captor comes in behind the men Rickon notes as he clutches Shaggy close, he sees the man's eyes widen when he catches sight of Rickon and the wolf, but otherwise keeps his eyes set of the naked woman that stands between them.

Some of the men hoot and hallower at the naked figure before they notice the horns, but some look on with weary eyes at the broken ice and the woman who stand without a single shiver despite having no clothes and being soaked to the bone.

She inhaled, the sound loud. She tilted her head towards the sky, exhaling a breath of frosty air that glinted in the sunlight like frost.

"I had thought the world would leave me to my slumber," she spoke, cold eyes staring at them as her body creaked and groaned after having not moved for so long. "But my dreams were plagued by horrors, which I never could have imagined for those of my kin."

"You're a mere girl. You have no weapons, no man to protect you, all you have is a boy and a wolf, a wolf that has already been killed once." The pale man said, with a smirk. "I see some odd accessories, but steel can slay all men and women.

"Ramsey Bolton." She said, heading titling to the side as regarded him.

He smiled and laughed in a mocking way. "You know my name, as do many others, I'm lord of Winterfell."

"Winterfell is my home." She announces, eyes narrowing as more men gather to surround them. "You are not Lord here; the lord of the castle is behind me."

Ramsey smirked, eyes roaming over her body. "I'll enjoy flawing you alive, redheads are hard to find this far North you see."

"Close your eyes, little one." She whispered, her hand reaching out without her turning to cover his gaze as the tail released its hold upon him. "Don't look, whatever you do, keep your eyes shut. I will fight to protect you."

Her gaze locked-on Ramsey, she smiled, and took glee in the fact that his eyes betrayed his calm, after all, she was a sight to see. The skin of her month beginning to stretch, skin tearing as blood began to pour from her face to coat her body, her bones creaking and bending as the skin rippled as the bones began to twist and turn, her long body bending forward as her spine curved, her skin burning red until finally, her true form became free.


"I am Guardian of the realm of Man,

but first and foremost,

I am a Stark."


When they arrive at Winterfell, there is not but death and weariness from those few who are left living. The castle is a wasteland, there was no one within loyal to the Starks he's been told, and the bodies that litter every inch of the castle are not what he expected.

Blue in death, they are practically frozen stiff. A sheen of ice coats their bodies, even those who had died within the castle walls are frozen to the touch, and burning them is something that will take time, if they burn at all.

"Jon!" He hears Davos hiss, his voice telling him that something isn't right.

He finds him and Tormund alongside a number of the free folk standing together, their weapons drawn, but otherwise still.

The gods wood is a sight to behold, dead pile around the entry as if having been thrown there without care. Within, lies a secret he had not been ready to see, a secret which has him frozen where he stands, least he wakes the beast that currently sleeps wrapped around the Wirewood tree.

It is larger than any giant, he can think of only one other creature that could compare in size and yet the two are so different.

"Get the people out! Get them away." He hisses below his breath as he stares transfixed that the creature before him.

The wall of icy flesh moves with each breath, the icy mist creating a gentle breeze with each exhale. It rustled his hair as he took a step closer, the snow crunching beneath his boots.

He hears the men's retreat, hears the hurried whispers to retreat, to get out the castle walls.

He could make out his own reflection and as he took his next step, the eyes of the beast shot open.

A head lifted, blazing blue crystals that glowed with life froze him still as they massive head raised, its body shifting the snow which had gathered upon its body.

The few others who had stayed had frozen like Jon, some had run, others gather their weapons like Davos and Tormund, but only Jon was locked in its gaze, his own reflection peering back at him in stiff terror.

It chirped, high and loud causing Jon to flinch as its massive body slowly lifted from its curled-up position, the ground quaking as its feet slammed into the snow as it righted itself, now towering over Jon.

"You should leave."

Jon hadn't been expecting the voice, much less the sight of a young boy sat, perfectly nestled between the feet of the dragon, reclining against a Direwolf of all things.

Rickon.

The sight was more shocking than the dragon that suddenly was blocking his view, its head now bent to showcase its teeth.

"Rickon!" It seemed his brother didn't remember him, and with the dragon's teeth slowly inching open Jon shouted: "Rickon, it's Jon."

"Jon?"

Everything seemed to freeze in that one moment, the boy shyly stepping out from where he hid beneath the dragon, Shaggydog standing to walk at his side.

"You are my brother?" Rickon asks, stopping beside the dragon's head, his hand reaching out to grab one of the spines of ice what are scattered across the Dragons face and body. "Bran said you were at the wall?"

Eyes shifting between the blazing blue eyes and his brother, Jon stepped back a single step. "I was, but I'm no longer bound to the wall, so I've returned home."

"You can tell if he's lying, can't you, Sansa?" Rickon said, eyes untrusting as he turned to the dragon.

The dragon chirps again, a purr leaving it as it nudges Rickon beneath its wings, before it turns on Jon again, the ground once again shaking as its body moves.

Its teeth, white like frozen frost glint in the sunlight as it nudges at him, sending him stumbling slightly before it inhales and the force pulls him flush against the dragon's mouth.

Finding from his scent that he isn't a threat or lying, he presumes as it slumps back to the ground, the snow swirling up in a cloud to coat them all.

"Rickon?" He calls cautiously, aware that dragon while lax is watching his every move.

"You said this was home, but it's not."

Jon steps forward with soft steps, moving to see where the form of his youngest brother is curled in on himself, the large form of Shaggydog partly shielding him from Jon's view.

"Everyone left, everyone died."

"I.." What can Jon say, he too had left, and he too had died. "I came back."

Head lifting Rickon regarded him with sad eyes. "You'll leave again, like Bran, like Osha, like everyone else, only Sansa stays here, only she won't leave me."

The accompanied purr is surprisingly tender, and the wing he currently sits draped under shifts ever so slightly as if to shield him.

"I'm your brother, Rickon. I'll do everything in my power to never leave you again."

Rickon hums, and Jon is aware that the others are still stood behind him, unaware of just what to do.

"Your dragon, your Sansa?" He tests, eyes flickering to the blue jewels watching him. "She won't harm us, will she?"

"Sansa's a Stark, she'll only hurt those who mean to bring us harm, like the men who took me, who hurt Osha and Shaggydog."

"A Stark?"

"Jon!" Davos said, and Jon turned to see that they were watching him warily.

"It's ok, it's of no harm to us." He assured although he didn't know if he believed it himself.

"She. Sansa's a girl." Rickon was quick to correct and Jon frowned, eyes sweeping over the beast unsure of how Rickon knew its gender.

"It's cold out here, come inside and warm yourself by a fire, a hot meal perhaps?" Jon asked, nodding to Davos, the man bobbing his head and taking his leave, while Tormund stayed, inching closer while the dragon kept its gaze focused on Jon.

"I'm not cold, Shaggy keeps me warm."

"But Sansa is cold," He tested, another step closer to his brother. "You need to eat, get warm, there is so much I've missed in your life, so much I want to hear, about you, about Bran."

Blue eyes, eyes that mirrored Robb's suddenly turned to him, and Jon was finally close enough that he was kneeling beside his brother slight form.

"You're almost a man, you've grown so much."

"Sansa stays with me, she promised that she would stay with me always."

Jon eyes the dragon, it had finally turned its gaze on Tormund, blowing icy wind at the man who gave a belly laugh as he ruffled his frosted beard.

"I'm not sure she'd fit," Jon says with a smile at how naïve his little brother still was, but nothing could have prepared him for what would happen at his brother words.

"Sansa, you'll come with me, won't you?"

The dragon has been in a sharing contest of sorts with Tormund set its sights on Jon and Rickon once again, tilting its head before nodding, and the steam began to rise from its form, its insides boiling away to melt the ice at a rapid rate that had Jon shielding his eye with his cloak and trying to do the same with Rickon only to have his brother bat his hand away.

"I'll follow the boy; he will not leave my sight." The voice is soft and melodic, and the person whom it belongs to is someone befitting its host.

Jon looked from the naked woman to Tormund, seeking answers in his expressions yet he was sure he mirrored his own.

"What are you?"

Rickon scoffed, moving to shield her nakedness. "She's an ice Dragon."

"We can see that boy, but how?" Tormund asked, head tilting as he regarded the woman suddenly before them.

"Magic, old magic from the Gods," Sansa said, glancing at Rickon who moved further back as if to protect her. "They are no threat to me, you need not worry for my safety, I shall kill any and all who dare to try to cause us harm."

Rickon stayed in place, eyes darting across the men who stared.

"I believe it is your appearance, you are without clothes, my Lady, please take this," Jon said offering up his cloak.

Blue eyes looked from the cloak to the man. "I have always been as I am; clothes have no place upon my body."

"It would be dangerous for the men; they would not be able to handle a woman so undressed," Tormund spoke up, his eyes flittering across the free folk who were still staring. Knowing that they might chance their lives at trying to steal her.

"I am more dangerous in this form then my other?"

"Yes, clothes would be needed so that they wouldn't be so afraid." Jon nodded. "I'm sure Rickon would be less frightened with you in some clothes."

"Rickon is not afraid," Sansa said, hand curling around the boy's shoulder, her hair the colour of hot coals, weaving around him as if were an extension of her body.

Jon leads them within the castle, the walls so familiar bring such sadness to his heart as what once was and what can never be again. When they are seated at a table, torches lighting the room and food somehow being produced he finds his eyes can't stray from his brother and the woman, the dragon he keeps as company.

"Do you remember Winterfell well, Rickon?" He couldn't help but ask his brother who still keeps close to Sansa who sits bare of any clothing except his cloak.

"I, I don't remember this place well, I think I see pictures in my head of people sometimes, but I don't know."

"That's okay, I shall tell you of our family, all that I can remember," Jon stated only to be interrupted by Sansa.

"I can show you; I can show you all who have walked the grounds within Winterfell," Sansa speaks and suddenly the rooms attention is upon the woman who has horns growing from her head and a tail of scales that lays hanging out from beneath Jon's cloak.

With a wave of her hands, a wall of ice began to grow upon the table, so clear was it, that Jon could see both Rickon and Sansa clear in front of him until Robb suddenly clouded his vision.

His Brother smiled as if looking back at Jon through the ice, and then he turned waving his sword upwards towards were their Father stood, as if Jon had forgotten just what his Father looked like Jon found that it was like looking at himself.

He could hear them, so clearly, the voice of his Brother calling up to their Father to watch them practice.

Through the ice, he could see the courtyard, people lifting their heads as if to look through the ice and at him, people he had grown up within the castle with, people who were no longer here. His sibling, His Father's wife, so many faces that Jon had forgotten with his time away from Winterfell.

He found himself speechless, unable to tear his gaze from those no longer with them.

"That's me?" He heard Rickon speak, as his youngest brother appeared on the ice.

He was giggling, running towards the Gods wood, towards where the water had frozen over. Jon watched as he rubbed away the top layer of ice, leaning forward to peer into the ice, and as if to follow his line of sight the ice showed her, Sansa. Floating beneath the ice where Rickon knelt.

"You've been here the entire time?" Jon questioned, locking eyes with Sansa through the glass, seeing past where she is floating in the ice that stood before them.

"I was here when Bran first built this castle, I helped build the wall." She spoke and her voice was clear and carried through the hall for all to hear. "It was I who put the Night King into his slumber, and I who soon followed him in the hopes that the world would finally be at peace."

There is silence as the ice mirror cracks and falls as powdered snow upon the table.

"The night King lives again," Davos spoke up, swallowing as Sansa peered at him with her unsettling blue eyes. "Did you feel his awaking? Is that why you have awoken from your own slumber?"

Sansa lowered her eyed to Rickon, face set in Stone as if she felt nothing at hearing such news.

"I awoke because my blood called out to me. I heard his plea and I could not let it go unanswered. As I did for you, Jon Snow." She said, suddenly turning her gaze upon him.

"You brought me back?" He asked, breath unsteady.

She simply nodded her head, her eyes returning to watch Rickon eat his meal, his brother seemly uninterested in the topic they spoke on.

"You build the Fucking Wall?" Tormund's voiced boomed.

Sansa regarded him with a furrowed brow. "I did think to kill you all, to leave the land without life so that the Night King would never be able to create an army again, but there was Stark blood in the land beyond, and for all the pain and suffering they caused to me by leaving, I could not bring myself to harm them. It was Bran suggested the Wall, you see the Night King holds Stark blood, he is mine to protect, and I can bring him no harm, just the same as he can do no harm to me. Only a Stark might end him, and even then, I'm not entirely sure."

"How did you do it?" A woman's voice suddenly broke forth from the muttering taking place in the room. "How did you conjure imagines of the past and show us? Can you do it again, call you show me, my daughter?"

"I'm afraid that this is not possible, my ties with those that hold Stark blood beyond the wall was forfeit when they choose to stand on the other side and forsake their Name, my connection to the Night King lives on as he is as he once was, a true born Stark."

"Who exactly are you?" Jon asked, eyes fluttering over the horns that protruded from her head.

Sansa blinked, seemly taken back by the question.

"I am Sansa."

This seemed to gather a chuckle from more than one person at the table they were seated at.

"What are you?" Jon asked, leaning forward, eyes seeking an answer to his question.

"I am Demi-God, I was born in the light of the moon and have called it my creator since, it gave me life, even now it continues to give me life.." Sansa began, her gaze never meeting Jon's own, but staying firmly upon Rickon who had turned to listen to her also. "In the beginning, there were others, people like me, but they are gone now, gone because those who held the blood that connected them are no longer apart of this world."

Davos cleared his throat. "So, Rickon and Jon are all that connects you this land?"

Sansa shook her head, hand reaching out to curl a piece of Rickon hair away from his eyes. "No, Rickon alone is my connect. He is the only Stark within Winterfell, within the North."

This seemed to gather attention and muttering broke out throughout the room.

"But Jon is my brother?" Rickon said, brows frowning in confusion.

Sansa shook her head. "Only a Stark born by male blood can claim the title Stark, Jon can not be your true brother, he is not connected to me in the same way as you are, as Bran and Arya are, even with the distance that separates us."

Jon shook his head, eye's gaining a faraway look. "What exactly are you saying, if my Father isn't my Father then who is?"

Sansa finally graced him by turning to look upon him before the wall of ice returned. A woman with ebony hair and dark Stark eyes gazed back at him in challenge.

"I know not of your Father, but your Mother walked these halls once, she was a true Born Stark, her name was Lyanna."

Sansa's words had sounded like a mere whisper to Jon. The words beginning drowned out as the image of who was his mother played out before him.

It had been Davos who had quietly asked that Sansa stop, the onion knight having asked Jon if he would like to leave so that he might collect his thoughts without the eyes of so many other's watching over him.

Why his feet lead him to the heart tree was beyond him, his thoughts so tanged up in one another that he hadn't even realised that he was before the tree until he felt the snow soak into his trousers where he had fallen to his knee before the sacred Tree.

His heart was throbbing painfully in his chest. Betrayal like waves shifting over sand seemed to radiate from his being.

He didn't her approach, the snow didn't crunch between her feet, it as the giant black wolf following behind her that gave away her and the body she had upon her back.

Rickon looked peaceful, his face buried in the neck of his cloak that hid her naked form from the world.

"He refused to sleep within the castle without me and I don't well trapped by walls of stone."

"Yet you built a wall and kept the free folk trapped."

She walked forward, placing Rickon down as if he were the most precious of cargo, and Shaggy immediately curled around him.

"Their ancestors murdered mine without cause, they raped, pillaged and plundered without care of who got hurt. If I'd have had my way they would not be here today." She said, caressing Rickon's cheek before she pulled the cloak from her form, laying it a top the sleeping boy.

"You would have murdered every one of them, the children too?"

Naked once more, she stood to face Jon.

"My people didn't start the war, but if given the chance I would have ended it. I'd have killed every last one of them so that there would be no one left to hurt those I loved. There would be no revenge, no hatred, nothing but peace for those under my protection, but Bran wouldn't have it. Even when I said that they would become part of the army of the dead should the Night King ever awaken, he would not have their blood on the House of Stark, and how was his kindness repaid, by those people climbing the wall to continue murdering our own."

Jon shook his head, denying the word she said.

"It's not right, there is no honour in it."

Her fingers cracked, the bones grinding together loudly in Jon's ears.

"They have no honour, yet you would expect me to show them something they do not possess?" She hissed, as her teeth began to change right before Jon's very eyes, the fangs elongating as her once clear skin because to coat itself in scales. "I watched as children died, Rickon is all I have left. If a single person wishes harm upon him, I will rain down death upon them all the likes have not been seen since before I was the last dragon left."

This caught Jon attention.

"There were others, like yourself?"

Sansa nodded, some of the scales melting like tears against her skin.

"Where have they gone?

A hand raised and pointed to the darkened sky.

"They are the stars that light the nights sky."

Jon followed her hand, the sky wasn't clear enough to see them, but Jon knew they were there, hidden and watching.

"We are born by the essence of the moon; it gave us life. When we die, our souls return to the sky, to our place beside the moon."

Jon turned his attention back to her, she had been watching him the entire time, and he felt his skin flush at her gaze.

"I won't die, not as long as there is Stark blood still flows in the veins of those all those who carry the Stark name."

"And I'm not one of them," Jon said, suddenly brought back to why he'd been here. "I only ever wanted to be Stark, to be able to call my Father by his title without bringing him shame, but I'm his greatest shame."

"I can not say that I understand what you must be feeling, what little emotion I do feel is connected to the safety and happiness of those that I choose to watch over. Sometimes I am not needed, and so I have slumber beneath in ice bathing in the light of the moon until a time I can be called upon, but I was forgotten, no one called out to me. I longed for death to end my slumber, to be free from this earth, but the boy reached out to me, his presence as a child brought me comfort, and I often saw him in my dream, I often saw you as well."

Jon gave a dry chuckle. "I suppose I was always gloomy?"

"Perhaps some of the time, but I watched you take your first steps, watched you speak your first word, I watched the man you considered Father beam with pride and happiness as you achieved these feats, and I watched him protect you and I watched him put his entire family at risk to shield you."

Jon stiffened, a shiver raking his body as Sansa words washed over him.

"I understand why he did it," Sansa confessed to Jon's confusion. "I would put each and every one of you at risk for Rickon, this is the bond of love."

"Love is the death of Duty."

Sansa turned her eyes to Rickon, his form curled around Shaggy. The green eyes of the wolf watching Jon with eeriness.

"Dragon's do not have children of our own, we are born by the moon and die so that we can return to her embrace. It was love that kept me bound to the Stark family, love for the little one's who would comb my hair and place crowns of flower atop my horns. I never knew such emotion, and now that I have felt it, I can not simply allow it to be pulled from my grasp."

"He will die," Jon said, meeting Sansa's gaze without fear when her stare turned upon him at his words. "We are mortal, we are not Gods, we are not dragons, each of us must face an end to this life, Rickon is no different."

"I have outlived so many of those that I grew to love, but I will not allow him to die."

"I don't think that is within your power, otherwise you would never have allowed any of the others you loved to die."

Sansa suddenly smiled, her fangs glittering in the dark, the moon now coating her in its glow.

"I never allowed any of them to die, it was their choice to leave this world, perhaps Rickon will choose differently."