The Dragon Queen did not arrive the next day. Instead, the Starks received a raven bearing two strips of parchment—one for Jon and one for Sansa. The master of the rookery brought the slips to Jon's study, where a few trusted advisors gathered. He gave Sansa her scroll discretely, as was their habit. Only the sharpest, most focused eyes would have noticed her receiving it and secreting it in a pocket hidden inside her long, draped sleeves.

Jon sat at the head of the table, a sister seated to each side of him. Gendry sat beside Arya, and Ser Davos sat between Sansa and Lady Mormont. Littlefinger leaned against a wall behind the empty chair beside Gendry. From his spot, he could be a fly on the wall—oft forgotten, but able to observe all. Sansa could feel his eyes on her.

Jon read his missive silently, then aloud. It succinctly told of how Daenerys, her men and the Greyjoys had retaken the Tully lands, the Lannister lands and Dragonstone. "…The Tyrells pledge themselves to me. We are in negotiation with Dorne. Please come to Dragonstone immediately. We will send a ship to White Harbor. Blessings on the return of your sister Arya and her husband. We request the presense of Lord Baratheon, as well." Following the missive was her name written in a lovely but unadorned script.

"Gendry? Why does she want to see Gendry?" Arya asked, a bit panicked.

It was Little Finger who spoke, languidly straightening from the wall and approaching the table. "Perhaps because he has the best claim to Storms End, but more likely because he's a Targaryen."

"What?" Gendry asked. "Strange enough to find that I'm a king's bastard…but now you tell me I've got dragon blood?"

"He's right," Sansa said. "The Septa tought us about it. Aegon V's daughter Rhaelle—she would be Daenerys' great aunt— married Ormund Baratheon. So, Gendry, that would make Aegon V Targaryen your great-great-grandfather."

Gendry looked stunned.

"This makes me wish I'd paid more attention in our lessons," Arya mused. "I only listened to the parts that were about battles and monsters and dragons."

"Don't feel too bad. Old Nan's stories are turning out to be more valuable than we thought," Jon rasped with a little laugh.

"I don't know this dragon queen," Lyanna said, "House Mormont knows no regent but the King in the North whose name is Stark."

"She has proposed marriage," Jon said. "If we marry, she will be my queen, and my queen is yours."

"I've heard she's very beautiful," Lyanna said with a little snear. "I hope you're not swayed by a pretty face."

Ser Davos had to clear his throat so as not to laugh. "Lady Mormont, though the Dragon Queen is quite lovely, she's also shrewd and just. In but a few years, Queen Daenerys has freed slaves and amassed a sizeable army and an armada of ships, and it was not by use of dragons alone. Also, in exchange for Jon marrying her, she has agreed to give the North the traditional…loose hold it has had for generations."

Lyanna Mormont considered this and gave a small nod.

"This queen…you trust her with Gendry?" Arya asked.

Jon thought about it seriously. "I do. And I'll be with him. If she harms him, she loses the North. She could take this land by force, but what she needs is the support of its people."

Arya nodded. "Okay, but I'm coming, too."

"And Lady Sansa can be Wardeness of the North in your absense," Petyr Baelish fairly purred.

"Sansa?" Jon asked, looking in her direction.

"I would do so proudly."

Jon nodded. "Lady Mormont, Ser Davos, I ask that you serve as her advisors. I will inform Tormund Giantsbane and the wildlings of where I'm going and why. If you treat The Free Folk with respect, they will work with you to protect the North." The group dispersed. Sansa walked down a hall toward the kitchens to consult with the cook about the next meal when she felt a hand grip her wrist. She nearly screamed as she was pulled into an alcove.

"What did he give you?" Baelish seethed in a raspy whisper. "A love letter from the half-man?"

"No!" Sansa protested, trying to wrench her arm from his grip.

"Himself then? The master of ravens is quite handsome, but I can't imagine you enjoying the touch of a man who smells like bird droppings."

"What? You're crazy!" Sansa fought as hard as she could not to shake or cry. She mind raced to find a lie, but she chose a half-truth instead. "Brienne of Tarth should have returned some time ago. I sent out ravens looking for her." All of it was true, but the slip the master of ravens had given her was not regarding this mission.

"Brienne of Tarth?" Petyr was so surprised that he released her. "Why the secrecy?"

"There's something strange between her and Jaime Lanister. Maybe she serves him now, instead of me. I don't wish to dishonor her. I just want to be sure that she's safe; I owe her my life."

He squinted at her, then said, "I'll find her for you, Sansa, discretely. You should know by now that you can trust me." Then he walked away.

Sansa rushed to the nearest hearth, read the notes a few times to secure it in her memory, then threw it in the fire.