When the raven arrived, Sansa was surprised.

Not that a letter had come, but rather due to who had sent it. The letter was not written in Jon's own hand, but rather Tyrion's, and it was even signed from Tyrion. Sansa read the letter twice over before she looked across the room at Arya, who had gained what Sansa was certain would be her last inch these last few months. "Well, who's it from?" Her younger, impatient sister demanded after several beats of silence. "Is it from Jon?" Though she tried to hide it, Arya loved Jon best of all their siblings...

Siblings.

Jon wasn't her brother, Sansa reminded herself for the millionth time that day alone as she sighed, unfolding the parchment in her hands. "It's from Jon, I suppose. But Tyrion has written it." Arya's face cracked with a beaming smile and she jumped up from her seat to approach her older sister. "He writes for us to come and stay with him awhile." For a moment, Sansa felt the world sway around her. To return to that place... To a place she had suffered for what had felt like an eternity. Where she'd been beaten, tortured, and abused by a mad boy king and his followers. To a place where her friends had been few and her family fewer. She had been alone, back then at King's Landing. But, she told herself, this time it would be Jon there. Cersei was gone, Joffrey was long gone, and there was nothing but ghosts left to haunt her.

"Oh, say we will go Sansa!" Arya's voice brought her back and Sansa focused her blue eyes upon her little sister's shining features. "I have missed Jon these few months." They had last seen Jon at her own crowning three months before, but it seemed like lifetimes ago. "I know you have too! Besides, winter is ending, surely we can travel with ease again." Arya was right, winter was coming to an end, and travel certainly would be easy.

"Of course we shall go," Sansa said with a smile, her need to have her broken family together again outweighing her disgust with Kings Landing. Her mind turned back to those early days here in Winterfell, when Jon first returned home with the Queen he'd bowed to, Daenerys, at his side. Sansa recalled the flicker of jealousy that had rushed through her upon meeting the beautiful, silver-haired Targaryen. But that was then, and this was now. Daenerys was no longer queen, no longer even among them in society. No, she had been locked away, injured that night she had tried to kill Jon, but far from dead. Though there had been those to rally for her death, Jon had locked her away as punishment. There was no way he could go through with killing her, his feelings for her besides the point. There was just no way he could kill the only other member of his blood line.

They were the last of the Targaryen's, after all.

"Send word to Brienne, she will arrange everything." Sansa went on, turning back to face Arya, pushing away all the thoughts in her mind. "We will leave as soon as possible."

[ x x x ]

King's Landing was exactly as she remembered it.

Its peaks, its towers, its corridors. Everything about it was the same as she remembered, even so many years later. Her feet led her down the familiar path towards the Red Keep, with Davos ahead of her and the others. Arya was close behind her, quiet as she took in the sights around her- sights she too could remember as well as yesterday. Neither sister spoke as they walked, though Sansa did slip her hand into Arya's as they went through the double doors, where ahead of them on his throne sat Jon.

Sir Davos stepped aside, allowing the Stark sisters to pass him by, instead allowing them to lead the way to the throne. Jon's court was still yet small, though Sansa had a hunch it'd never be the size it had once been, not that Jon would mind. But there were still Lords of the land there and she knew better than anyone what it meant to put on a good first impression. And though Arya had teased her over it, Sansa had her best gown prepared for this event, her first meeting with Jon not as siblings, but as rulers in their own rights. "Your grace," Sansa said when they had approached the dais, her smile small but true as she locked eyes with the handsome young King.

"Your grace," Jon parroted back at her with a sheepish grin, their eyes meeting a moment longer, until he then turned to Arya. Sansa could feel her younger sister trembling with excitement; nothing could revert Arya to her childlike ways, nothing except for Jon. "I hope travel was easy. Winter is nearing its end, after all." Sansa could not help but to chuckle, Jon's words a mirror to those Arya had said to her but a few weeks before.

"Our trip was easy, thank you," Sansa replied, straightening her back as she stood there before the Iron Throne, well aware of every pair of eyes upon her. For a single moment, she was fourteen again, and it was not Jon on the throne but Joffrey. In that instance, a crossbow was aimed at her chest while a man three times her size cut her gown into pieces before all of court. She felt the touch of a hand against her own and realized she'd lapsed into silence, trapped within the memory triggered by merely standing in that very room. "But perhaps I am tired," she admitted with a smile, hoping no one else noticed her slip into the past. However, both Jon and Tyrion were staring at her, and she knew both men were thinking exactly as she was. One of those men had been the one to rescue her from that moment, the first true kindness any of the Lannister's had ever shown her.

"You may retire to your rooms, I trust you'll both wish to rest and eat." Jon said, his concern for the young woman before him evident, but knew better than to press such a subject in public. Besides, if he waited any longer to speak privately with Arya, she'd surely burst. And so he dismissed the two girls, the only family he had left, and followed after them to finally take them both into his arms again.

[ x x x ]

Knock, knock

"Come in," Sansa called, turning in her chair as Jon came into the room, alone and unannounced by even a guard. "Jon!" She jumped to her feet, racing across the room to meet him, throwing her arms around him as he swept her off her feet. "I've missed you," she admitted as he set her down on her feet, steadying her with two warm hands on her hips. "You said we'd not be apart this long." She went on, her voice adopting a more accusatory tone, though her lips were smiling. "I've had to practically lock Arya in her chamber, she's been wanting to come since the moment you last left Winterfell."

Jon could not help but to admire Sansa, drinking in the sight of her face as if he'd not seen her in years. She had changed, he noted, holding herself a bit taller, a bit stronger. She was beginning to let go the abuse she'd suffered, she was beginning to heal. He supposed she'd begun the journey to healing the moment Arya slit Lord Baelish's throat, the man partly (if not mostly) responsible for all she had suffered. For all their family had suffered. Seeing her standing there with a radiant smile brought warmth to him, for he could still yet recall the stiffness of her smile only a few months before. "I know and I'm sorry Sansa, I've been a bit busy you know..." Sansa gave a chuckle, stepping away from him to return to the chair she'd been sitting in, gesturing him to follow after her. Jon felt a rush of familiarity, a rush of nostalgia- how long had it been since someone had directed him? For months now he'd tried to adjust to a life where he was not the bottom rung, but rather the top one. It was strange and something he wasn't sure he'd ever adjust to. But there with Sansa, who always took charge of every situation, had him on the move with only a simple gesture. Jon chuckled at the memory of them as children, when even at two years old Sansa had been an unstoppable force. It felt good to know that part of her was returning.

"I've missed you too," he said as he took to the other chair across from her, settling in as if they were back at Winterfell. "More than you know." The words slipped from his lips and he turned away, the admission a little unlike him... But he had missed her. He'd missed Arya as well and of course had told her as such when he'd gone to her chamber too. "You write so often I can't even ask you to tell me how everything is going." It was Sansa's turn to blush and turn away, knowing it was true; she sent at least one raven a week, if not more. Though, Jon replied swiftly and to every single letter she sent.

"Then you tell me," Sansa said, leaning forward in her chair, staring across at him. "What prompted you to invite us so suddenly? What's happening now?"

Caught off guard by her questions, Jon blinked, suddenly very aware of her eyes upon him. Not ready to admit the truth behind inviting her- the prospect of their marriage- Jon grinned and ran a hand through his ever unruly hair. "Can't a man just invite his family to stay awhile?" When Sansa gave a little laugh, he then reached into his pocket, remembering then he'd had something to give her. "Here, it's for you." He handed the little package over to her, watching as her eyes widened, surprise taking root. "Open it."

Sansa untied the package, revealing beneath the paper a small box. Inside, nestled against a pool of silk, was a silver pendant. Engraved upon it was the symbol of House Stark, a direwolf. "Oh..." She murmured softly, the pad of her finger tracing the outline. "It's lovely." She pulled it out of the box, revealing a long silver chain it was attached to, which she could hang around her neck. "Thank you." When she looked back up at him, her eyes were shining, her mouth trembling ever so slightly as she smiled.

"Let me..." Jon rose up, reaching out to take the necklace from her hands, and went to stand behind her chair. "Your hair..." He said softly, watching silently as she shifted her mane of red hair across a shoulder, giving him access to clasp the necklace around her neck. As he did, his fingers brushed against the soft skin of her neck, sending chills racing the length of his spine. He'd never known how soft her skin was there, for he'd never touched but her hand or cheek before. He stepped back around to inspect the way the silver pendant sat perfectly against her collarbone, hyper aware of how brilliantly her eyes shined in the firelight.

"Thank you..." She murmured again, reaching up her hand to tenderly touch the pendant, her lips curving with a smile. "I'll treasure it." She promised with a nod, to which Jon smiled back at her, before a knock sounded on the door, causing both of them to jump. "Come in." Sansa called, turning towards the door as one of Jon's stewards entered.

"Dinner, your graces," he said before bowing and exiting, leaving the two of them alone once more.

"Come on then, you heard the man." Jon said with a chuckle, reaching out a hand for her to take. If they both noticed the rush of electricity that rushed through their fingertips, than neither one of them made mention of it. Instead, Sansa put her hand onto his elbow, and allowed him to steer her from the room and down the hall towards the hall where they would have their first meal together in months.