Aboard the Winter's Voyage…

It had been a 27 day (3 week, 6 day equivalent) sea voyage aboard the new royal galley The Winter's Voyage, where Queen Sansa Stark brushed her Tully auburn hair away from her face the more she felt the sea air brushing past her and felt the waves crashing against the ship. It wouldn't have been long now with White Harbor nearby, the only city and main seaport in the North – one of only five settlements in Westeros large enough to be called a city though the smallest of the five.

Sansa hated leaving her family in King's Landing behind—the loud yet faint screaming and cries of her son still rang in her mind, but she had to check on her immediate family in Winterfell first; rumors had spread about a certain "incident" regarding an individual of the name "Arya Stark". Since then, Sansa convinced herself to venture north with her personal guards Ser Lucius Blackmyre, Brienne of Tarth, Podrick Payne and Ser Olyvar Frey.

She felt nauseous, bringing a delicate hand up to cover her mouth. Sansa shook her head and shrugged at this sudden discomfort. Any further thoughts were broken by Olyvar's shouts of protests.

"Hey! No fair, that's cheating!"

Sansa turned to see Olyvar complaining at Ser Lucius over a game of cyvasse, a board game with ten pieces played on a tiled board with a screen in the middle; each of them had a different set of color combinations including ivory and onyx, ivory and jade or alabaster and onyx. The squares were each colored jade, carnelian and lapis lazuli. Overall, it was a simple strategizing game where each player had to utilize a set of tactics to win each round and the match.

And from the looks of it, the young knight was losing against the Old Bull… horribly.

"Do you always complain this much over a simple board game, boy? A knight should exercise more restraint than shouting outbursts whenever they're met with an obstacle," Lucius raised an eyebrow.

Olyvar gritted his teeth. "Just you wait, old man. I'll win this—" he noticed Sansa looking at them and looked caught off guard, nearly rising out of his seat. "Oh, Y-Your Grace! Ah, w-we were just, uhh…"

Sansa seemed genuinely interested. "Are you two playing nice?" she asked rather amused.

"Of course, Your Grace," Ser Lucius replied. "Ser Olyvar is just simply upset I won our last game."

"That was luck!" he grumbled, picking up one of the pieces on the board.

Ser Lucius analyzed the pieces on the board and when he saw an opening he seized his chance. "An accusation you've been hurling for the past three games straight. You are young, whereas this old man has more than 40 years of experience devising all sorts of military strategies and tactics since the War of the Ninepenny Kings," he explained as he moved his piece into check. "…and I'm good at this."

Aghast, Olyvar stared in dismay at the board; his fingers and nerves twitching wildly as he lost his fourth consecutive match against Ser Lucius. Pounding his hands on the small table, Olyvar simply stood up and walked away.

"That's it. I'm gonna go check to see if we're close to our destination…"

Sansa and Brienne both had to stifle a choked chuckle at Ser Olyvar's loss, hiding their amusement. Lucius simply shrugged off the youth's regular complaining at being unable to put up a decent challenge against the veteran knight.

"Well, I suppose I should be returning to my post as well…" he spoke, before gesturing to the board, "unless you would care for a game, Your Grace?"

"All right, prepare the board, Ser Lucius," Sansa boldly accepted the challenge and sat down in front of him.

With the prospect of challenging the Queen Consort to a friendly match, Ser Lucius gathered up the pieces and rearranged them on the board. "You understand the rules of cyvasse?"

"A little."

"Well, see the pieces? The 10 pieces you see here are the rabble, spearmen, crossbowmen, light horse, heavy horse, trebuchet, catapult, dragon, elephant and king. Before the game starts, neither player can see the identity of the other's pieces with the screen being placed in front of us – therefore allowing a player to position each piece into strategic positions. A dragon can remove elephants, a catapult or trebuchet can remove a dragon and the goal of the game is to take out the king."

Both began moving their pieces on the board, each moving a few of them one at a time.

"You've played this before?"

Ser Lucius nodded. "Of course; Prince Lewyn Martell would occasionally bring it with him whenever he returned from Dorne—which was all the time before we were elevated to the Kingsguard. Lewyn, Barristan and I would practice together for weeks. Ahh, the look on Lewyn's face when I beat him at his own game… Those were good times, before the rebellion."

"If you don't mind me asking, what were you before you joined the Kingsguard?"

"Me? I was just an ordinary farmer, tending to the fields and harvesting crops in the Riverlands. Good days, bad days… we had our moments like everyone else. It wasn't until I saved a particularly important lord against an attack from a group of bandits, outlaws and cutthroats."

"And who was the lord you rescued?" she asked, moving a piece.

"Hoster Tully, Lord of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Trident," he answered, moving his own piece.

Sansa blinked in surprise. "My grandfather?"

"He was a good man, but I admit I didn't even know it was him at the time," Lucius moved another piece. "Apparently I must've made quite an impression. Lord Hoster knighted me and granted me High Heart as a thank you; called on me when Maelys the Monstrous, last of the Blackfyre pretenders, tried to invade Westeros with his army at the Stepstones."

"I heard the stories. What happened?"

"Surely you're already well-versed in history, hmm?"

"Yes, Ser Lucius, but you and Ser Barristan were actually there."

Lucius leaned back, groaning as his muscles stretched. "Well it was technically called the Fifth Blackfyre Rebellion, though the reason why people remember it as the War of the Ninepenny Kings was when Ser Duncan the Tall told a joke about the Band of Nine, a diverse group of robber-lords and pirates who proclaimed themselves kings. 'It seemed that crowns were being sold nine a penny,' he said. The name stuck. As a close relative to the Targaryens, Maelys believed his Targaryen blood gave him a claim to the Iron Throne, but we made sure his blood claimed nothing but dirt around his corpse. Your grandfather, your great-uncle Ser Brynden, Ser Barristan and I… we were there, as was Lord Tywin Lannister, his brother Ser Kevan, Lord Ormund Baratheon, his son Steffon… but so was the King's son, Aerys Targaryen. That's how Barristan and I both joined the Kingsguard."

'For a man of 67 years, Ser Lucius sure sounds like he has a lot of stories to tell. Perhaps I'll get him to tell me some more once this whole ordeal is over… and when this nauseating subsides,' the Wolf Queen thought.

"Your Grace? It's your turn."

Sansa blinked and moved her piece, contemplating her next move. "Ah, my apologies, ser; it's just the stories you tell have been rather fascinating."

Ser Lucius smiled. "Oh? Well, you're actually the first to tell me that. Most young'uns care little for what they call 'the preaching of old, unwanted men.'"

"Don't say such things!" she quietly protested. "We need people like you."

"Hah ha, easy child, I know what you meant. And thank you… for saying that and believing that."

Sansa smiled and moved another piece. "All right, Ser Lucius, let's see what you got."

"Careful now," he warned. "Too much confidence can lead to one's downfall."

The round lasted for several minutes to almost an hour. As the winds and waves crashed against The Winter's Voyage, each of the crew tended to the sails and steered the galley in the direction towards White Harbor. After an hour, the game continued and Ser Lucius glanced at the game board – realizing for the first time it was in a stalemate. Queen Sansa was actually keeping up with the Old Bull, quite competitive.

"Well, well, quite a clever move, Your Grace," he broke the silence with a small smirk, "it seems I've underestimated your resourcefulness. Are you sure you never played cyvasse before?"

Sansa smiled. "I am a slow learner, Ser Lucius, it's true. But I learn."

"So it would seem. You've definitely come a long way since Winterfell."

Before she could say anything else, Sansa felt nauseous again and covered her mouth again whilst another hand was placed onto her stomach. Both Lucius and Brienne looked at the Wolf Queen, somewhat slightly concerned. She started to look a little bit pale and tired more than usual – looking like she was about to vomit at any moment.

"Are you all right, Your Grace?" asked Brienne.

Sansa exhaled, relieved that the discomfort finally subsided. "Yes, Brienne," she replied, "I'm all right. I'll be all right."

"You're not getting seasick, are you?" Lucius suggested.

"No, no. I've been at sea a few times, but it doesn't make me uncomfortable… at least not yet anyway."

Before they could press further, Ser Olyvar returned to the deck. "We're approaching White Harbor. Best we get our stuff unpacked because we're expecting some company at the docks."

"It shouldn't be," Sansa theorized. "Surely Lord Wyman must've received a raven before our arrival."

"Well, you could tell his men that because they definitely look like they're expecting trouble."

Sansa suspected something was amiss and rose from her seat to glance over the side as The Winter Voyage began docking at White Harbor. As Olyvar warned, each of the approaching guardsmen looked a little on edge – all of them bearing leather armor with steel studs and bearing a white merman holding a trident over a blue-green field on their banners. The Wolf Queen glanced with one of the men, analyzing their posture, concluding that there was a sense of fear and uncertainty floating around in the North.

One of the guards approached the ship, spear still in hand. "Halt!" he orders. "Who goes there?"

Ser Olyvar was the first to disembark. "Ser Olyvar of House Frey," he introduced himself.

"Never seen weasel lords from the south make their way up here to our lands… unannounced."

"We've sent a raven to your lord weeks ago. You mean neither of you hadn't—"

"What raven?" he pointed his spear at him. "State your business, boy. And don't think about trying anything stupid."

Ser Lucius intervened. "Put your weapons down, boy! Before you end up hurting yourself."

"A threat? The North doesn't take kindly to threats."

Another guard approached. "That armor… You're a Kingsguard, aren't you?" he asked cautiously.

"So now you've chosen to use your eyes, did you? Yes, I'm a bloody Kingsguard; been one for over 40 years!"

"Anyone can make a suit of armor that fancy and call themselves Kingsguard. Prove it."

Brienne decided to intervene as well, with Podrick following close behind her. "Gentlemen, you're holding us up while an investigation is underway."

More guards approached looking rather unconvinced. "Investigation? What investigation?" another demanded. "Explain yourselves! Why are you on our land?"

"Another claiming to be a Kingsguard?"

"A woman? Not a fat chance!"

"Her? An ugly bitch of that size? Holy fuck, how in the…?"

"What's all the commotion here?" approached Lord Wyman Manderly, ruler of White Harbor nearly 60 years old.

A prominent and wealthy lord of a powerful Northern house, Wyman's attire consisted of rich clothing including a velvet blue-green doublet embroidered with golden threat with golden trident pinning his mantle to his shoulder despite being a heavyset yet amiable man; shrewd, calculating and intelligent. Lord Wyman was also a loyal, powerful bannerman of House Stark – commanding one of the three largest armies in the North alongside the Umbers and Karstarks.

He approached Ser Olyvar, Ser Lucius, Podrick and Brienne. "What brings you to White Harbor?" he asked.

Lucius approached. "We've come here because of rather… disturbing activities here in the North. Word travels fast, Lord Manderly, even as far to the south."

"And what are the reports you've heard?"

"One relating to the failed assassination attempt against the royal family in Dorne," Olyvar explained. "We believe our primary suspect has been pulling strings behind the scenes and plans to make his next move sooner."

Lord Wyman observed closely, but still needed some convincing as he dismounted his horse. "We've heard the rumors ourselves, though a raven being sent to me would've been appreciative."

Sansa was listening to the entire conversation unfold, shaking her head in annoyance; her thoughts turned to her sister Arya and the ongoing trouble in the North. She knew trouble was afoot, but she did not appreciate being held up or delayed over a minor inconvenience. Winter had arrived and the North was already experiencing snowfall, exactly as House Stark would always warn other houses – "Winter Is Coming". Any further delays would only serve to increase neighboring tensions.

'The winters are hard but the Starks will endure. We always have. I must be as strong as my lady mother. I have to. For my family, for my children,' the Wolf Queen lectured herself.

Lifting the hems of her dress, Sansa stood tall and regal in her blue Northern attire befitting a Queen of her stature, displaying an air of confidence and conviction about her – strutting onto the docks of White Harbor with purpose. To put an end to this nonsense, she removed the hood from her head; her auburn Tully hair tussled back against the gusts of wind. A few of the Manderly port guards began noticing her approach and recognized her; one or two, however, failed to notice.

"Wha…?"

"My name is Sansa Stark of Winterfell," she formally introduced herself, "daughter of Lord Eddard Stark and Queen Consort to King Daveth of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name. I have come seeking an audience with your noble lord, Wyman of House Manderly."

Lord Wyman immediately recognized Sansa and knelt before her. "Oh, of course, Your Grace. Please forgive my men for their behavior. It will not happen again," he curtseyed. "We did not know you were coming. If we had, we would have welcomed you properly. House Manderly meant no disrespect of any sort."

"There is nothing to forgive, my lord. How fares your son, Ser Wendel?"

"My son is quite well, Your Grace."

"That is a relief to hear, but… I cannot help but beseech you the question: what did you mean earlier when you said you were not expecting us? Did you not receive a raven?"

"No, Your Grace, we haven't. The North has been… rather on edge as of late, now that winter has come."

Sansa looked at her escort and they all shared the same suspicion. "Could you clarify?" she asked.

Lord Manderly rose. "White Harbor has been hearing some… conflicting reports near the Dreadfort. Apparently there's been some sort of skirmish with Lord Bolton's men and a few intruders before they took off to the Hornwood forest."

Olyvar exchanged glances between the two. "Was there a chance that someone called Arya Stark was involved in any way? She disappeared some time ago."

"We've known that as well, though my scouts did somehow get close enough to get a description of Lady Stark. Tall girl about the Queen's height, long brown hair, pretty face…"

Sansa furrowed her brow. 'Wait a minute, something's not right. Arya is nine inches shorter than me and barely passes half my ribcage, so she's not that tall. And she definitely wasn't that pretty as a girl…' She decided to chime in. "Are you sure it was her?" the Wolf Queen asked, her tone changed with suspicion.

"So the assurances we've received from Lord Bolton imply, Your Grace," Wyman answered. "Why?"

"I'm afraid you've been deceived, my lord," Brienne suggested.

"Who told you this?" Ser Lucius implored.

The Lord of White Harbor's face switched from confusion to slow realization. "His bastard son Ramsay Snow denied the rumors. He…" his face twisted in outrage, "are you suggesting that bastard had the audacity to lie to me?!"

"Afraid so, my lord," Olyvar pointed out. "We even have evidence to believe it was Ramsay Snow himself who set Locke free from his prison and sent a dozen men to Dorne to assassinate the King."

"What?!"

"Trust me, Lord Manderly. I was there. King Daveth was lucky to escape with his life had we not intervened. So if Ramsay Snow says he doesn't actually have Arya Stark, chances are he does… and that he's up to something."

"What for?" asked one of the guardsmen.

Sansa shook her head. "I'm afraid we do not know, but if he does have my sister then her life is in grave danger." She turned to Wyman. "Lord Manderly, I know it's asking a bit much, but as a bannerman of House Stark – to my family – can you lend us your aid in the rescue and returning my sister to Winterfell safely?"

Lord Wyman nodded. "Of course, Your Grace. House Manderly will honor our pledge to House Stark," he huffed, eager to get some payback. "I'll have my son gather as many men as he can immediately. We'll ride out soon—"

"It has to be done now, my lord. If my sister is indeed out there, then I'm coming with you so I can verify for myself."

All looked surprised.

"Your Grace?" Olyvar spoke.

"Your Grace, I fear that would be an unwise move," Ser Lucius suggested. "Move too rashly then our enemies will be aware of our presence."

Brienne somewhat nodded in agreement. "Ser Lucius speaks the truth, Your Grace, no matter how much you don't wish to hear it. With White Harbor's aid, we should be able to find Lady Arya and bring her back to safety."

Sansa did not budge. "Your advice is kind as it is wise, really, but if my sister is indeed out there being hunted by Ramsay Snow – then I cannot side idle while my family is endangered again."

"Your Grace—"

"Some northerners still sneer at my ancestor as 'The King Who Knelt', forgetting that because of Torrhen Stark they're alive today to sneer. Their ancestors didn't leave their burned bones at the Trident and their twisted swords didn't fill Aegon the Conqueror's new throne 300 years ago."

As Manderly men-at-arms led by Lord Wyman's son and heir approached with a dozen men and horses, Sansa continued her lecture – no matter how firm she sounded, Sansa was a daughter of the North, a Queen… and emerged a wolf in her own right.

"The North remembers who united it even if some don't," she continued, "the North remembers who defended it and the North remembers who wrong us. Long ago my ancestors spared the Boltons, trusting their oaths of fealty. If Roose Bolton or his bastard son did indeed blatantly disregard their oaths by harming my sister or anyone under my care, then I shall correct that mistake. Even the North can forget when there's nothing left to remember. Have I made myself clear?"

Seven hells, even Ser Olyvar Frey started to sweat nervously despite the cold of winter. Ser Lucius, Brienne and Podrick all looked at each other and came to a conclusion that Sansa Stark was indeed serious. Sometimes they had to remember she was a Northmen, not a southern lady. But each of them swore a sacred oath to King Daveth Baratheon that they would keep Sansa safe from any and all harm, and they planned on doing just that.

"Crystal," Lucius relented, "but only if we accompany you."

"We promised the King we'd protect you," Brienne pointed out.

Sansa smiled. "Thank you."

One by one, each person climbed up on their respective horses and rode out with Ser Wendel Manderly leading the fray. Before the guests joined up with them, Sansa again felt nauseous and held her stomach once more. Lucius, Brienne, Podrick and Olyvar all noticed but were silenced when the Wolf Queen raised a hand up.

"When we bring Arya back to Winterfell, I'll need to see Maester Luwin," she told them.

Brienne nodded. "Of course, Your Grace. But be careful not to overexert yourself."

Sansa gave a soft chuckle at being reminded of her own words. "I promise, Brienne. I'll rely on all of you to keep me safe."

They nodded in approval and rode off to join the Manderly hosts out of White Harbor and into the forests beyond to locate and retrieve Arya Stark from the dangers of Ramsay Snow and his men. Unbeknownst to them, lurking behind them was a hooded figure—long black hair and violet eyes. Grabbing the saddle of a nearby horse, the hood was blown off to reveal Ariyana Dayne had snuck on board The Winter's Voyage undetected and followed the royal host not too far behind them.

Donned in leather garments to combat the cold North weather and carrying two swords at her waist, Ariyana had kept House Dayne's ancestral sword Dawn close by.

"Be careful out there, Stark," she whispered quietly. "I'll win back your trust, even if I have to give my life to do it."

Ariyana kicked the side of her horse and rode off in pursuit.

Chapter End

Author's Note: Another chapter focusing solely on Sansa Stark, but I felt like there needed to be a bonding moment with a few of her selected bodyguards as they passed the time whilst en route to White Harbor. Think of cyvasse as a comparison to medieval chess and how the rules apply, whatever rocks your boat. With Sansa feeling a bit sick, does anyone care to speculate on what this possibly means for her? And lastly the individual who snuck on board the ship has been revealed to be Ariyana Dayne—apparently on a mission of redemption. Think she'll end up getting it? Thoughts? Let me know.

Oi Teme: Ramsay better not get a hold of Sansa for even a second kill the sadistic bastard. Imma f*cking flip if Sansa gets captured for even a second.

C.E.W: So now Queen Sansa has returned to the North, and has become much more harder and fierce wolf than when she left. Sansa appears to have a another baby on the way. I can only hope that Sansa is safe, especially with Ramsay Snow being a great problem. He'll most likely make a move against Sansa once he finds out she's in the North.

Dovahkiin1503: And it would seem another child is on the way. With the Red Wolf back in the North it is time to gather the Pack and rescue on that is under their protection. I have this feeling that Ariyana's father is none other than Brandon Stark and thus making her also part of the Pack.

Also I think that at least one child should be more Stark than anything else. You know black/dark brown hair with grey eyes and the (in)famous wolves-blood.

So far this has been a great story, keep up the great work and I hope you do a better job than the showrunners once you get to season 8.

―Here's hoping; some parts of Season 8 it'll basically be rather hectic, but I'll look over the rest of the previous episodes before jotting stuff down.

Tohka123: Really enjoying the story , looks like another child I's on the way.

Keep up the hard work

jgs237: Another baby on the way nice.

Good chapter by the way!

AvaStanley: loved the bonding between Sansa and her bodyguards. interesting game as well

mpowers045: She released the Wolf from within herself

Memnon45: Awesome chapter man, I like how you made Sansa a leader in her own way and how she inspired everyone.

―Thanks.

Silent Wolf Singer: Sansa truly has grown up.

Hear My Fury: I think there's another Stag baby coming. And I totally knew it was Ariyana who snuck on board. I wonder, are we going to finally learn who her father is?

―Soon.