It was odd really, Sansa thought, glancing around the room. It was Jon's room but it was huge, so he had a dining table. He had invited the rest of them to come and dine with him that evening, the rest of the Starks that was. Years ago, there would have been nine of them: her parents, Robb, Theon, Jon, Arya, Bran, Rickon and herself. And, here they were, the four survivors. With another war yet to fight.

Jon lifted his glass to the four of them and they joined in, Bran only drinking water. Arya drank her wine faster than Sansa would have expected of her. "This is nice," Jon commented. Sansa wasn't sure she agreed. It was wonderful to have her family back together, of course, but Bran was hardly Bran anymore and, well, she didn't know what Arya was.

It had been a week since the Great Battle of Winterfell, when Arya had killed the Night King. She had told them that and then spent two days holed up in her quarters with the blacksmith she'd taken a liking to. Sansa had spent her time with Tyrion, sharing the stories of the time they had spent apart.

"So, Sansa," Arya started as Sansa tried to hide her smile, remembering something that Tyrion had told her earlier that day. "What's going on between you and the imp?" Her sister sipped on her wine as she said it and Sansa snarled.

Her first impulse was to defend him against the nickname that he hated. Her second was to slap her sister's smug little face. "We were married once," Sansa commented with a shrug, "and he was kind to me."

"Not what I asked," Arya commented. Sansa looked to Jon for support but found him with raised eyebrows.

Rolling her eyes to the ceiling, Sansa said, "Tyrion is my friend. He was my greatest support while I was being emotionally tortured by Joffrey and his mother and I will never forget that."

"Tyrion," Arya said in a silly voice. Sansa lunged.

"Okay!" Jon called to order. "Stop, the both of you."

"Well, I don't know why we're talking about my friendship with Tyrion when we could be discussing Arya's antics with her little blacksmith."

"His name," Arya said with raised eyebrows, "is Gendry Waters." Sansa scoffed. A bastard. "And if Tyrion was your greatest support, Gendry was mine when I served Tywin Lannister."

"You what?" Sansa and Jon spat immediately. Arya shrugged.

"Survived, didn't I?"

"How long have you known him?" Sansa asked, astonished. She had assumed that her sister had met the smith when they had returned to Winterfell.

"When I left King's Landing, after Father was murdered," Arya said bitterly and Sansa remembered it with a flash, "Gendry and I were going to be shipped off to the Night's Watch together. I wanted to get to you, Jon, and the man Gendry was working for sold him. He figured out I wasn't the commoner boy I was pretending to be."

"I wonder how," Jon said and Sansa sipped her wine as she observed her brother's protective qualities come out. Arya just rolled her eyes.

"I wasn't fucking him until we were back at Winterfell, don't worry." Sansa and Jon both spluttered their wine at the word "fucking" emerging from their little sister's mouth. "What? What did you and Lord Tyrion call it, Sansa? Making love?" she mocked.

"Tyrion and I never slept together," Sansa countered angrily.

"What about you, Jon? What do you call it when you're fucking the Dragon Queen?"

Jon's face hardened and Arya chuckled. "Enough, Arya." Arya poured herself another glass of wine.

"There was a reason I gathered you here," Jon said and Sansa and Arya both looked up from their wine. Before he could say anything, though, Bran spoke.

"Jon is our cousin," he said in that eerie voice of his. Sansa's lips parted. Arya's face didn't move.

"Our cousin?" Sansa said, tearing her eyes from Bran to Jon.

Jon sighed. "My mother was our aunt, Lyanna Stark, and my father was her husband and non-rapist, Rhaegar Targaryen."

"You're fucking your aunt," were the first words to emerge from Arya's mouth after a few moments of silence, in which Sansa could not decide what to do with herself, what to think.

At Arya's comment, however, a laugh bubbled out of Sansa's throat. If you didn't laugh, you'd cry. "Arya," she scolded slightly even as she laughed. When their laughs faded, though, Jon was not laughing and Sansa turned serious.

"This makes you the heir, Jon."

Jon nodded. "Dany and I -"

"What does she have to with anything?" Sansa spat. Jon gave her a withering look and Sansa held his stare.

"Dany is the queen. She's been training to be queen her whole life. She's been fighting to be queen her whole life. I don't even want to be king."

"But you are," Arya commented. Jon shrugged with a sigh.

"Dany and I are trying to decide what to do. I just thought you should know. You can't tell anybody, not your imp or your blacksmith," he said, turning to each of them in turn. Sansa glared at her brother's use of Tyrion's nickname. Arya just rolled her eyes. Sansa guessed that her sister's little blacksmith would know by the end of the night.