When Arya was little, she hadn't spent a lot of time in her father's solar. She had spent time with him at meals in the Great Hall, watching the boys train, sometimes even him telling her and Sansa stories to lull them to sleep. Ned's solar had seemed the domain of Lord Stark, rather than her father.

She had spent a lot of time in it when it was Sansa's solar, arguing over Littlefinger or deciding a course of action for when Jon came home with a new queen or helping to draw up battle plans against the oncoming army of the dead. It still hadn't been a place to relax.

Still, shuffling into the solar behind Sansa and Theon, her father leading the way and Robb and Catelyn taking up the read guard was a new experience. Her stomach had sunk the moment she had stood up to find Ned hovering over her, and hadn't risen from its pit since. She had wanted to tell her parents about what was coming, to warn them of every enemy facing their family, but she hadn't wanted them to know. Know who she'd become. Not really.

Why had she been so quick to threaten Theon? She could have waited. She could have cornered him when no one else was looking. Arya was capable of being patient, she was. It had taken her weeks to infiltrate the Twins deeply enough to for her to get undisturbed access to the eldest Frey sons and the oven.

It was Theon, though. He might have helped Sansa, once, but he had still attacked Winterfell and almost murdered Bran and Rickon. Seeing Sansa embrace him, like he had never done anything to hurt them…

It was too much. Somebody needed to remind Theon how thin the ice under his feet was.

Arya slid into a free chair across the desk from Ned. Sansa sat primly in the chair next to her, and Theon stood behind Sansa, who still hadn't let go of his hand. Catelyn seated herself next to Ned and behind them stood Robb, glowering at Theon and Sansa's joined hands.

Ned leant forwards, resting his hands on the table in front of him. "Girls," he said. "Theon. I don't know what caused that conversation in the Great Hall, but we will be needing an explanation."

"We're from the future," Arya blurted out before Sansa or Theon had a chance to formulate a response.

Ned sat back, staring between the three of them in confusion and disbelief.

Catelyn narrowed her eyes at Arya. "I'm not sure what has gotten into you today -"

"In the Eyrie, the wind howls like a wolf, large as mountains," said Sansa suddenly. She was staring directly at Ned. "It howls so long and so wild that it feels like it will pierce your soul, and when someone falls from the Moon Door, it feels like their screams will last for a thousand years. But that's still better than the Red Keep. There, all you can smell is piss and shit and the perfumes that the courtiers were to cover it up burn your nose. It's so crowded in King's Landing you can hardly breathe and every person there is more venomous than a viper."

Ned was staring back at Sansa, entranced by her words. Even Arya could not help but watch her sister as she painted images in the air.

"When you ride for Castle Black, though, you almost miss them both. I thought it was so cold in Castle Black, cold enough that I thought I wouldn't be able to breathe again, until I saw Jon. With him, the Wall was bearable, but until then all I could think of was how cold it was, the way it ate its way into my bones. I was never warm again, not truly, not even when we were home and safe in Winterfell again.

"Winter came, Father. Winter came like you always promised it would and the dead came with it," said Sansa. The room was utterly silent besides Sansa's voice. Arya squeezed her eyes shut, feeling ghost hands grabbing at her legs again, ready to drag her down and devour her. "We had half of the Seven Kingdoms, the Free Folk and the Unsullied and Dothraki from Essos to defend us at Winterfell, but there was no stopping the Night King. It was too late for us, so the Old Gods brought us back to now, to build up the North's defences against the oncoming storm."

"Sansa," whispered Catelyn, her face white.

"It's true, Lady Stark," said Theon. "I saw the Night King. I was all that was left between him and Bran, and he killed me for it. He was… He was ice made flesh, my lady."

"I almost died a hundred times over in the Long Night," said Arya. "But there was no escaping the dead, not forever. They might be dumb as a brick, but they're patient, and their numbers are endless."

"Old Nan's tales," said Robb, his voice quiet. "They're true? All of them?"

"All the ones about the White Walkers are," said Arya. "They never died out; they were just waiting, all this time. Waiting for us to tear ourselves apart."

"And didn't we do that well," murmured Sansa, quietly enough that it had to have been to herself.

"Girls, Robb, Theon, I need some time to speak with my lady wife," said Ned.

"But -" protested Arya, but Sansa grabbed her by the shoulder as she stood up and dragged her out of the room. As they stepped out into the hallway, Arya hissed, "We haven't convinced them yet!"

"We need to give them time to process everything," said Sansa. "We just told them the apocalypse is coming. Their whole world has just collapsed around them. They need time to process what we've told them or we won't get anything done."

Robb leant against the stone wall, face pale. "How is this possible?" he wondered aloud. "They're meant to be stories, or long gone at least."

Sansa turned to Robb and said, "If there's one thing I've learnt, Robb, it's that very little in life is like a song, no matter how hard we try. The White Walkers are coming for us all, and though they might sing about us in the great halls one day, it'll be of little comfort when the white winds begin to blow."

"But when the white winds blow, the pack can survive," said Arya. "The lone wolf dies, but not the pack."

"We were all lone wolves, last time," said Sansa. "Jon was on the Wall, Bran beyond it, you in the Riverlands or Braavos and me in King's Landing then the Eyrie. Maybe if we can stay together this time, we'll be better prepared for what's to come."

"Wait – Bran went beyond the Wall? When the White Walkers were on the march?" demanded Robb.

Arya couldn't help but glance at Theon, who had shrunk back at Robb's exclamation. Sansa squeezed his hand. "Winterfell was sacked by the Boltons," said Sansa. "Bran and Rickon fled north, and Bran ended up beyond the Wall. We'll explain more later."

Arya's head whipped round to stare at Sansa. The Boltons? Theon had gotten there first. Bran and Rickon had fled Theon, not the Boltons.

Theon was staring at Sansa too, and he had opened his mouth to say something when Robb cut him off.

"The Boltons?" asked Robb, aghast.

"Roose and Ramsay Bolton cannot be trusted," said Sansa. "Roose will do whatever it takes to usurp us as rulers of the North, and Ramsay…" She faltered.

"He's a monster," said Theon, almost inaudibly.

"The butcher of the Dreadfort," agreed Sansa.

"You said that you fed him to his own dogs," said Robb, looking at Sansa.

Sansa crossed her arms and lifted her chin. "Perhaps if he hadn't starved them for weeks so he could feed Jon and Rickon to them, they wouldn't have been so quick to feast on him."

Robb glanced helplessly to Arya and Theon. "He deserved every bit of it and more," said Arya, moving slightly closer to her sister so that their shoulders brushed against each other. "I only wish I could have seen it."

Robb looked between the three of him and whispered, "What happened to you all?"

"You died, Robb, and so did Mother and Father, so we did what we had to do to survive," said Sansa. "I am still Sansa. I am still your sister. I just don't believe in songs anymore."

"Do you believe them?" asked Catelyn as Ned finished herding the children out into the hall and closed the door behind them.

Ned turned back to her, fighting back a sigh. Every part of him felt weighed down, Sansa's words pressing down on his shoulders and making it hard to even speak.

"Yes," he said honestly. "The way she described the Eyrie… If she had only read about the castle in books, she would have talked about the layout of the castle, but she didn't." Catelyn pursed her lips but Ned forged onwards. "And her description of King's Landing – did that sound like our Sansa?"

Catelyn bit her lip and admitted, "No."

"The way she and Arya and Theon have been behaving – it wasn't them, or not the Sansa and Arya and Theon we knew yesterday," said Ned. "When they came to our bed last night, Arya and Sansa were wondering if someone was really capable of 'something'. Maybe this was it."

"They were talking about Bran, though," pointed out Catelyn. "This morning, they're talking about the Old Gods. Bran's only a boy; a human boy."

"I know," sighed Ned. "I don't understand it either."

Catelyn stood up and turned away from him. "If it's true," she said, her voice wavering, "what have our girls been through? What happened to them, Ned, for Arya to threaten Theon with murder so calmly and Sansa to feed someone to their own dogs?"

Ned wrapped his arms around her from behind, and she reached up to rest her trembling hand over his clasped ones. Ned rested his face in her hair. "I don't know," he murmured. The apocalypse was one thing, but for Sansa and Arya to speak so comfortably of murdering another person – not a wight or an Other, but a person –

Ned couldn't even begin to comprehend what could have happened to his girls; what happened to Sansa, a lady at three who had made her brothers play the knights rescuing her from a lonely tower, or to Arya, who picked him flowers and ruined Sansa's games by insisting on playing the monster. Not even Lyanna, at the end, had been so…

Promise me, Ned.

How had he failed his daughters so entirely that they had been forced to murder and violence?

Promise me…

"If all of this is true, where do we go now?" asked Catelyn. "If the end is truly coming, I almost wish to close up Winterfell – to spend our last years alone here with our children and each other. I know Sansa said they had been sent back to give us a second chance, but what can we do, truly, against an enemy that can raise our own dead against us?"

"The White Walkers have been defeated once before," he reminded her. "It was the first of the Starks who withstood them and built the Wall as the world finally dawned again."

"Brandon the Builder," said Catelyn, turning around in his arms. "I remember."

"Right now, we have two options," he said. "Our girls and Theon have gone mad and are sharing the exact same delusion, or they are telling the truth and the world is about to fall apart around us."

Catelyn squeezed her eyes shut. At last, she said, "They don't seem mad."

"No, they don't," agreed Ned. "I'll send a raven to Lord Commander Mormont to keep a closer eye on what's happening north of the Wall. We might have confirmation soon enough."

"And until then?" asked Catelyn. "Do we start preparations now and look mad to our bannermen and to the south, or do we sit and wait?"

"I don't know," said Ned. The future stretched out before his eyes, the road endless and shadowed to his eyes. "Even if we wait for Mormont to confirm the Others have returned, there will still be men who insist we are mad, and will keep insisting it until the dead rise in their own keeps."

Catelyn frowned, her eyebrows crinkling together. "Last night, Sansa said that she – and Arya – were told that they needed Westeros to be united to withstand the Others."

"The realm is united under King Robert," said Ned.

"Will is stay that way?" asked Catelyn. "It sounds as if the Seven Kingdoms descended into turmoil and weren't able to put up a defence. Sansa said that only half the kingdoms mounted a defence against the Others, and the Dothraki and Unsullied."

"From Essos," said Ned. "Why were there Essosi armies in the North?"

Catelyn's eyes widened. "The Targaryen children."

Ned resisted cursing under his breath. He had hoped that the Targaryen children would live out their days in Essos – in peace, far from Robert's vengeful grasp.

"We should bring the children back in," said Catelyn. "We need to know more about what will happen. We can't make plans with so little information."

Ned hesitated. "Are you ready to hear what they have to say?"

Catelyn looked down. "We have to hear it," she said, her voice barely audible.

Ned pulled her closer, and she rested her head against his shoulder, her hands against his chest. They stood unmoving for several moments. Ned breathed in the smell of her hair, trying to fill his lungs with it.

"We'll do better," he promised her quietly.

"We have to," she hissed in response.

"We have to," he agreed.

There were dried tears on her mother's cheeks. Arya hated them, hated that there was nothing she could do to wipe them away, and hated that it was only going to get worse from here.

"We have discussed it, and we have decided that we believe you," said Catelyn, her voice brittle. "If war is brewing, in the south or the north, we need to be prepared."

"You implied there was turmoil coming," said Ned to Sansa, his voice gentle.

Sansa nodded jerkily. She was sitting across from Arya and had finally released Theon's hand. "First there was the War of the Five Kings -"

"Five?" cut in Catelyn.

"Joffrey Baratheon, Renly Baratheon, Stannis Baratheon, Balon Greyjoy," said Sansa. He eyes slid across to Robb. "And Robb Stark, the first King in the North in three hundred years."

Catelyn and Ned both turned to look at Robb, who was as surprised as they were. "I seceded from the Seven Kingdoms?"

"The Greatjon started it, if that helps," offered Theon. Sansa glanced at him, giving him a minute smile.

"Renly and Stannis both rebelled against Robert's son?" asked Ned.

Sansa shook her head. "Joffrey's a bastard. Stannis knew, and Renly did too. I don't know why Renly didn't support Stannis, besides his own ambitions."

"Jon knew Stannis," said Arya. "He helped rout the Wildlings when they attacked the Wall."

"He came south from there to attack Winterfell," said Sansa. "He lost, but Theon and I used the confusion to escape. We still wouldn't have gotten far, if not for Brienne."

Arya shifted in her seat, surprised at how much she missed Brienne. She felt less secure without their sworn sword at their backs. She couldn't imagine how Sansa felt, who had known Brienne so much longer and had none of Arya's training.

"Why did you have to escape Winterfell?" asked Catelyn.

Sansa's jaw worked for a long moment, and Theon seemed frozen in place.

"Why don't we start at the beginning?" asked Arya. They could come to Ramsay later.

Sansa shot Arya a grateful look. "There was a Night's Watch deserter," she said. "Before anything else, there was a Night's Watch deserter who said he saw the Others. You executed him and we didn't think about him twice until they came."

Ned noted this down and asked, "Do you remember his name?"

"No," said Sansa, and glanced at Theon and Arya, who both shook their heads.

"I can still tell Mormont to keep a close eye on his rangers," said Ned. "How long was it between the deserter being caught and the Others getting through the Wall?"

"Seven years," said Arya. Ned nodded and noted this down.

"What year is it?" asked Theon. Catelyn, Ned and Robb all turned to look at him, and he explained, "If we know that, we can give you a better timeframe."

"297 After Conquest," said Ned, nodding in approval. "Late 297."

"Eight years, then," said Theon. "We have almost eight years."

Robb swore under his breath, and Ned took Catelyn's hand, who squeezed it. After a moment, she asked, "What happened after the deserter was executed?"

"Maybe a few days later, we received word that Jon Arryn had died," said Sansa. "The King rode north to make you his Hand and have me betrothed to Joffrey. While he was here, Bran was pushed from the Broken Tower and never walked again."

Catelyn made a low, keening sound in the back of her throat. Ned set his quill down and squeezed his eyes shut painfully.

"Who pushed him?" demanded Robb.

Sansa hesitated.

"Jaime Lannister," said Arya. "The Kingslayer himself, because Bran saw him fucking his own sister."

"That's quite the accusation," said Catelyn, her voice cautious.

"It's true," said Sansa. "Look at Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella when the king rides north. There's not a drop of Baratheon in them."

"Everybody knew it, from the reavers in Pyke to whores in Volantis," said Theon.

"They knew about Bran?" asked Catelyn, aghast. "They were so brazen that they got away with trying to kill a boy?"

"Not about Bran," said Sansa. "At least, I didn't until he arrived in Winterfell to fight against the dead alongside us. But about Jaime and Cersei, yes. Stannis made sure everyone knew of it."

"How did Robert react?" asked Ned.

"Robert was already dead," said Sansa. "The Lannisters claimed that it was just propaganda so that Stannis could usurp the throne." Ned nodded; he looked pained, rubbing his forehead.

"Father, Sansa and I rode south not long after," said Arya. "You were Hand. Robert died in a hunting accident, and you had already worked out Joffrey was not Robert's son, so they arrested you for treason and executed you."

Catelyn gasped, clinging to Ned's hand. Robb staggered under the weight of her words.

"It gets worse," said Sansa, grimly.

"I managed to get out of the city. There was a recruiter for the Night's Watch who recognised me – he cut my hair and told the others I was a boy named Arry. Sansa…" Arya looked across at Sansa. She was digging her hands into the chair so hard that her knuckles were almost white.

"I was caught in the Red Keep when Robb raised the banners and was declared King in the North," said Sansa, her voice taut. "I was still Joffrey's betrothed, for a time, until the Tyrrells aligned with the Lannisters and I was replaced by Margaery. They married me off to Tyrion so they still controlled my claim to the North when Robb fell."

Arya couldn't help glancing at Theon at that. His jaw was tight and he stood stiffly, unable to look at Robb.

"Renly's army fell apart early on," said Sansa. "Stannis attacked King's Landing but lost when Tywin and the Tyrrells arrived to reinforce the city. From there he went North, I think, to reinforce the Wall. The Wildlings were trying to escape south of the Wall. Jon eventually let them through, when he became Lord Commander, but first there was a war."

"That's the first thing you need to do," broke in Arya. "Bring the Wildlings south. It'll cut the Night King off from building an army."

Ned looked up from the parchment he had been noting the story down on. "The other lords won't like that," he said.

"It doesn't matter what they want," said Arya. "If they're going to survive the Long Night, the Wildlings need to be settled south of the Wall."

"We'll discuss this later," said Sansa. "Father can treat with Lord Commander Mormont and the King Beyond the Wall -"

"Mance Rayder," supplied Theon.

" – later," finished Sansa. "After Stannis went North, there was only the Ironborn raiding the coast and the North to worry about for the Lannisters, and the Ironborn were mainly focused on the North, anyway."

Theon bowed his head. "I -"

"Tywin Lannister treated with the Freys and with the Boltons," said Sansa, loudly, cutting off Theon. Arya cocked her head, staring at her sister. What was Sansa playing at? This was the second time she had dismissed or lied about Theon.

Theon, to his credit, looked as startled as Arya did.

"They betrayed the North at Uncle Edmure's wedding," continued Sansa. "They massacred the Northern army and Mother and Robb, all under guest right, so that the Freys could be made Lords Paramount of the Riverlands and the Boltons the Warden of the North."

Ned, Robb and Catelyn sat in mute horror, staring at Sansa with pale faces.

I killed them, Arya wanted to say. I killed the Freys for you and Sansa and Jon killed Ramsay. We avenged you, we reclaimed our home, we never forgot you. But her mouth couldn't open, and the words stuck in her chest. Her heart hammered in her chest as she looked at Catelyn, tears stinging at her eyes. Would her mother understand? Would any of them?

"I should have died with you," said Theon, staring at Robb. Desperation and grief was written stark across his face. "I should have, I should have been there, I should have…"

Sansa touched his hand gently. "You saved me, and Yara, and you died for Bran," she reminded him softly. "You couldn't have helped any of us if you'd died at the Twins."

Theon tore his gaze away from Robb to look at Sansa. He looked wild in his grief, a cornered animal before the crossbow. "If I had died with Robb, maybe Bran wouldn't have needed anyone to die for him."

Sansa turned to look back at the others. "Joffrey was poisoned not long after the Red Wedding. I was able to flee King's Landing when he died, and I sought shelter with Aunt Lysa in the Vale."

Catelyn closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath. Her look of relief dug painfully at Arya's heart.

"She married me to Ramsay Bolton," said Sansa, flatly. Arya whipped her head around to stare at Sansa again. Arya could understand Sansa protecting Theon, no matter how much she hated it – Sansa clearly still adored him. But Littlefinger?

We're going to have words after this, Arya thought grimly. She would give Sansa the benefit of the doubt for now, but if she didn't have a decent explanation, Arya would go straight to their parents and explain everything Sansa had left out.

"I found Theon here, at Winterfell," went on Sansa. "Ramsay had held him hostage for years. We escaped, eventually. We were found by Brienne of Tarth and her squire, Podrick. Brienne and Podrick escorted me the rest of the way to the Wall – to Jon – and Theon went to Pyke."

"My father was dead by then," said Theon. "I supported my sister in the Kingsmoot, but my uncle, Euron, won and was crowned king. Yara and I fled east with her other supporters."

"I found Jon at the Wall," said Sansa. "He… I don't know how to explain it, Father, but he didn't desert when he came with me to retake Winterfell. He had fulfilled all of his vows. We gathered the Wildlings and the Northern Houses still loyal to us, and we retook Winterfell from the Boltons." Her eyes shifted to Catelyn, and she spoke the next words like a challenge. "We named him the new King in the North."

Catelyn's jaw worked. "That bastard stole your birthright?" she demanded.

Arya jutted her chin up. "We both supported him as king!" she exclaimed. "We both supported him, Rickon was dead, and Bran didn't want it. Sansa was still Lady of Winterfell, but we supported him as our king."

"I knelt to Jon, because he was good and he protected me," said Sansa. "He was a good king, Mother. I said that he would be my king until my last day, and he was. I have no regrets."

Catelyn pursed her lips, pressing them together so hard they went almost white.

"Enough," said Ned. "Whatever happened in Sansa and Arya's past, it is unlikely to come again."

"Jon went south to treat with the Dragon Queen," said Sansa. "Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons and the Breaker of Chains. He bent the knee in return for her aid in the war against the Others."

"We aren't just being poetic when we call her the Dragon Queen," said Arya. "She hatched three dragons from stone. They were almost fully grown by the time they reached us, by all accounts."

"Dragons," whispered Robb.

"Dragons," confirmed Arya. "Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion."

"I'll need to tell Robert," said Ned, staring down at his notes.

"No!" exclaimed Sansa, Arya and Theon all at once. "No," continued Arya. "We have no weapon against the wights like the dragons. Robert will have her killed and you know it, Father."

"I have no wish to live under a Targaryen ruler, but we need her dragons," said Sansa.

We have no wish to live under any ruler, lion or stag or dragon, thought Arya. Only the wolf. Only us. But that wasn't an option right now. Bran had said it: Westeros needed to be united when the Others ventured south of the Wall. It was going to be difficult enough, managing that with Daenerys Stormborn building her armies and raising her dragons across the Narrow Sea, without seriously pursuing Northern independence before the Others arrived.

If we survive this, we'll be independent, Arya promised herself. Father will be the first King in the North this time round, and Robb after him.

"What about you?" Robb asked Arya. "You've been quiet."

"I hid with Yoren until I couldn't anymore," said Arya. "After the Red Wedding, I sailed to Essos. It was only after I had heard that Jon and Sansa had retaken Winterfell that I felt safe enough to come home." The lie flowed off her lips, more easily than she thought it would. Neither of her parents called her on the lie. Now she was like Sansa; now she was lying to them. But how could she explain the list of names to her parents and Robb? That didn't know; they wouldn't understand it, not like Sansa did.

"What happened after Jon went to treat with Daenerys?" pressed Ned.

"Daenerys agreed to help after the Night King killed one of her dragons and raised him again as a wight," said Arya, relieved for the change in topic. "It was only days after they arrived back at Winterfell that the Army of the Dead attacked, and we all woke up here, eight years earlier."

"A second chance," said Sansa. "For all of us."

Jon had slept in one morning and he has missed everything.

Rumours had been flying around Winterfell all morning. The first that he had heard was that Arya had attacked Theon in the Great Hall with naught but a butter knife, and that had been one of the milder stories he had heard going around. Jon doubted Arya had gone so far as to attack Theon with a butter knife, but the one consistency in all the stories he had heard so far was conflict between Arya and Theon, and Sansa trying to get in between them.

Lord Stark was clearly taking whatever happened seriously; him, the three of them, Lady Stark and Robb had been locked away in his solar all morning. Left without his training partners, Jon had spent the morning helping Ser Rodrik put Bran through his paces.

"Were you there?" asked Jon as they took a short break.

Bran shook his head. "I sneaked out to climb the Broken Tower."

Jon couldn't help but smile, ruffling Bran's hair with fond exasperation. Bran ducked away from him, laughing. "Of course you did."

"D'you really think Arya went at Theon with a butter knife?" asked Bran.

It wasn't that Jon didn't think Arya was capable of attacking someone with a butter knife, given enough provocation. It was more that he just didn't see how Theon was capable of riling her up that much in such a short space of time. It was Theon; when he was being a brat, you called him a dick and you ignored him.

Jon shook his head. "Theon would be a waste of energy." Bran snorted as Rodrik called them back over. "Remember to keep your shield up," warned Jon, "or I'll ring your head like a bell."

After Jon and Bran finished with Ser Rodrik, Jon found himself wandering towards the Godswood. He didn't want to go back into the castle, not yet, when Robb and Arya were probably both still cloistered away in Ned's solar. The Godswood was peaceful, and quiet.

Or at least, it should have been.

"What if Mother doesn't believe us?" hissed Sansa, standing next to Arya under the heart tree. "What if she thinks I've got it wrong, that I misunderstood somehow and he's still just innocent Petyr?"

"She won't," insisted Arya. "She loves you; she trusts you. She hasn't seen Littlefinger since before Robert's Rebellion, probably. She'll trust you more than him."

"Can we risk it?" asked Sansa. "Can we risk her writing to him or to Aunt Lysa, and him being tipped off?"

Through the trees, Jon saw Arya cross her arms across her chest, staring at Sansa defiantly. He moved through the trees, ready to let them know he was there, when Arya spoke again, "Fine. I understand Littlefinger. I don't agree with you, but I understand. But why are you protecting Theon?"

Jon stopped in his tracks. There had been poison in Arya's voice, a level of hatred he hadn't ever heard from her before – a level of hatred he hadn't even realised she was capable of.

"He saved me from Ramsay," said Sansa. "You don't understand what happened to him, Arya. It changed him forever."

"He tried to kill Bran and Rickon!" exclaimed Arya, her voice ringing through the Godswood.

"He did," said Sansa, and that was all the confirmation Jon needed to turn on his heels and sprint back towards the castle.

Behind him, he heard Sansa and Arya, shouting out for him to wait, but he ran on, flying out of the Godswood and into the rest of the castle, searching the buildings until he found Theon, with Robb in the Library Tower.

Robb looked up, startled at his sudden arrival. "Jon, you -"

Jon stalked over to Theon. Theon had time to meet his eyes apprehensively before Jon slammed his fist into Theon's face.

"Jon!" shouted Robb, crouching down beside a collapsed Theon.

"Tell him what you did," snarled Jon.

"Jon, what are you talking about?" asked Robb.

"I heard Arya and Sansa," growled Jon. "Tell Robb what you did to Bran and Rickon!"

Theon shrank back in on himself. "It wasn't the Boltons," he whispered. "They came later. It was me."

"You?" echoed Robb, before slow realisation washed over him. "You were the one who sacked Winterfell. You're why Bran and Rickon went North!"

"Wait, what?" said Jon, confusion mixing with his fury. Robb and Theon both ignored him, too caught up in each other.

"You sent me to treat with my father," said Theon. "I didn't have his respect anymore, so I…"

"So you betrayed me, attacked my home and tried to murder my brothers," said Robb shortly when Theon trailed off.

Theon nodded, curling himself into a ball. "Reek," he murmured. "Reek, reek…"

"Theon!" Sansa's voice sounded from the door. She hurried inside and kneeled beside Theon and shot Jon a glare. "What did you do to him?" she demanded, touching Theon's reddened jaw gently.

"Sansa, get away from him," said Robb, grabbing at her arm, but she tore her arm away from him with a glare.

"Your name is Theon Greyjoy," she told Theon firmly. "Brother of Yara, ward of House Stark. Ramsay isn't here. You're safe with me, with Sansa."

Arya stalked into the room and came to stand by Jon. She crossed her arms as she looked down at Theon with disgust in her eyes.

"He tried to kill Bran and Rickon!" exclaimed Robb. Theon cringed away from the anger in Robb's voice.

"Stay with me, Theon," murmured Sansa, before looking back up at Robb. "He tried to kill Bran and Rickon, but he saved me from Ramsay Bolton while you never even tried to save me from the Lannisters."

Her cold words hit with pin-point precision. Robb wheeled back as if she had slapped him.

"Sansa," said Arya, softly.

"Bran and Rickon are fine," said Sansa. "He hasn't hurt them this time around, and he never will."

"He deserves to be punished," said Jon.

"Perhaps," said Sansa. "He didn't get a just sentence, though. He got Ramsay. That's more than punishment enough, and you can trust me on that." She turned her head back to Theon, murmuring quiet words to him that Jon couldn't hear.

"Ramsay?" he asked Arya and Robb. Instead of answering, Robb turned around and stalked out of the room, fury radiating from every inch of him.

"Come on," said Arya. "We need to be there in case Robb tries to do something stupid."

"I can't," he told her. "What if Theon tries to hurt Sansa?"

Arya pointedly looked down at Theon, his face buried in Sansa's shoulder as the two sat together in silence. "She'll be fine." Jon hesitated, and Arya rolled her eyes. "I hate Theon as much as anyone else, but he won't hurt Sansa." Arya spun on her heels and ran out of the room in pursuit of Robb, and with one last look at Sansa and Theon, Jon followed.

He and Arya found Robb back in the training grounds. Robb was taking his anger out on a training dummy, and despite the wooden sword he was using, tufts of straw still flew out of it with each strike.

"Robb!" called Arya.

Robb didn't answer, redoubling his efforts on the dummy.

"Robb," said Jon, more calmly. "Robb."

Robb threw the wooden sword to the ground and turned to face them, his eyes glittering with tears. "How could this have all happened?" he asked Arya. "Theon, Father, Mother, Sansa going from one monster to another… How did I abandon her, Arya? How could I have left her to that?"

Arya stepped closer. "They married her to the Imp," she replied. "She was a political liability. Sansa understands why you did it. Truly, she does." Her voice was comforting, but even without context, Jon could hear what Arya was leaving unsaid: but that didn't mean it hadn't hurt.

"Liability," muttered Robb, disgust layering his voice. "Was there anyone? Anyone who actually helped you both, I mean, who didn't almost destroy our family." There was a hint of a snarl in his voice at the reference to Theon.

"There was," said Arya. "For me, there was Gendry and Hot Pie and an actress in Braavos called Lady Crane. Gendry and Hot Pie travelled with me when I was hidden with Yoren. For Sansa – her name was Brienne. She was every bit the kind of knight that we all thought knights should be. She swore to Mother that she would find Sansa and I and protect us, and she did. She saved Sansa from the Boltons. And…" Arya glanced over at Jon. "There was Jon."

"Me?" asked Jon.

Arya ignored him. "Brienne took Sansa all the way to Jon on the Wall, and he helped her to rally the North and retake Winterfell. She was always so distant with him when we were children, but when I came back to Winterfell you would almost think that he'd hung the stars, the way she talked about him. They argued about anything and everything political, but she adored him for saving her."

Robb looked to Jon, his eyes heavy with tears, and caught him up in a hug. "Thank you for doing what I didn't," he said into Jon's ears. Jon raised his eyebrows at Arya, hoping for some kind of explanation, but she just smiled indulgently at him like she knew something he didn't – which, apparently, she did.

"Alright," said Jon, when Robb at last let go. "Is someone going to explain what's going on now?"