Chapter XXII: The Remains

"Jon, wake up!"

He opened his eyes to see Arya above him, shaking him awake. The hint of panic in her voice frightened him and he sat up frantically.

"Are you alright? What's wrong?" He asked, worriedly.

"I'm fine, but you have to come with me." Her lower lip trembled. "It's Sansa. Jon, please, come with me."

"What happened?" Jon pulled on his furs as the chill hit his skin. It was perhaps almost midnight.

Arya shivered, and took a deep breath.

"She's with child, Jon."

The duo rushed from his room, as Jon could hear the beating of his heart loud in his chest. The thought of Ramsay's child made him angry, but at the same time he was scared for Sansa. He knew how much she loathed Ramsay, and he could make a guess at what she was feeling.

The door to her room opened to reveal Sansa on the bed, her body shaking with tears. Beside her was Brienne, and the way Sansa clutched her stomach with her fingernails, Jon knew what pain she was going through.

His fists clenched at the thought of Ramsay.

She didn't deserve this, he thought.

Arya took his hand and he looked down at her to see that her eyes were locked onto Sansa, a fear looming in her eyes.

And anger too. The same anger he felt.

Sansa saw them, and her gasps echoed through the room.

"If I have this child, it will remind me everyday of what that monster did to me." Her voice was calmer than he thought. She was strong, he knew that.

"You will have it, won't you?" Jon asked. He couldn't imagine Sansa killing her unborn child, no matter whose it was.

"You could keep it you know," Arya's voice came from behind him. "We wouldn't hate you for it."

"But how can I live knowing it is Ramsay's?" Sansa's voice was filled with venom, and she spat the bastard's name.

"It is not just Ramsay's," Jon said, approaching her and kneeling down beside her bed. He took her hands in between his own. "It is yours. It has the Stark blood and the Tully blood. It is more yours than his. And it will always be."

Sansa leaned her head back against the headboard, and Jon kissed her cold fingers.

"He or she will be a Stark of Winterfell," Arya said, placing her hand on top of Sansa's head and running her fingers through her long, auburn hair. It was messier than Jon had ever seen it.

The Maester entered the room, and bowed. He took a vial out of his pocket with his shaking fingers and handed it towards her.

"The Princess asked for dreamwine," he said. "Too much can harm the child so I made a milder concoction."

Arya took it instead.

"I would appreciate if you wouldn't speak of this to anyone, Maester Wolkan," she said. Jon did not fail to hear the threat.

"Of course, Princess," the Maester said, and bowed before leaving the room silently. Arya opened the vial and smelled it, for some reason, then put it on the nightstand.

"He was a Bolton Maester for a long time," she whispered.

"Would you love it?" Sansa asked aloud, her hand ghosting over her stomach. For a moment, she looked like Catelyn Stark, as Jon remembered her- auburn hair, blue eyes and the gentle face.

"Of course I would," he said, without hesitation.

"With all my heart," Arya added. She leaned down to place a kiss on Sansa's head.

"She should rest," Arya told Jon, and he nodded, getting up and tightening his hold on Sansa's hand before letting go.

"I'll stay with her, Your Grace," Brienne offered.

Jon nodded.

"Thank you," he said, looking at Sansa again, who now had the vial in her hands, and was rolling it between her fingers, and her eyes were moist, but void of tears, and he feared that was worse than anything else.

Jon found himself following Arya to her chambers, instead of going back to his own. He closed the door behind him as softly as he could. Her silence unnerved him, as it always did. He anticipated her anger, but it was nowhere to be seen.

She sat down on her bed, and held her head in her hands.

"She is good, Jon," she said, and for the first time since her return, he found her voice different, and not as steady as usual.

"She didn't deserve the fucking bastard and she doesn't deserve to have his child!" Arya turned to look at him, and he saw tears in her eyes. "She deserves Knights and flowers and everything she once dreamed of. Not this."

"It was a summer dream," Jon said, walking to her. "We all had dreams, remember? And which one of us got what we wanted?"

She clutched his arm.

"Didn't you see the look in her eyes?" She asked. "She is afraid that she will never be able to love the child with all her heart because it will always remind her of him."

"She will," Jon told her. "As will we. As will everyone."

"I didn't think you would advise her to keep it. You hate the Boltons," he said.

"We all do, Jon," Arya said, and shook her head. "Do you realize who will you be when you marry Daenerys?"

Jon frowned at her unexpected question.

"You'll be Jon Targaryen, and even if you don't, I don't think she will legitimize you as a Stark knowing who you are." Arya looked at him, and bit her lip. "You know that Bran cannot have children. I do not plan to get married, ever. I asked the Maester today. Sansa is almost three months with child. After everything Ramsay did to her, if she takes Moon Tea, she might become infertile for life. Sansa is the only one who can produce a Stark heir. Have you not thought of it?"

"And you would have a Bolton inherite Winterfell?" Jon asked, weighing their options, and realising that she wasn't really wrong.

"It isn't worse than House Stark disappearing entirely. And he'll grow up here, won't he? If Sansa wishes and marries again, she could have her other child inteherit, but it will be hers afterall."

"It could be yours," he suggested, even though the thought of Arya marrying was strange.

She laughed and leaned against him.

"I would never. That's not me."

He kissed her temple twice. Her room was darker than his, with no candles and only the moonlight shining through the window. He thought he heard a wolf's howl in the distance, and looked at her to see if she had too, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Let me stay with you," he murmured against her skin. "Please."

Arya looked at him, and the silver in her eyes shone.

"What about propriety, Your Grace?" She asked after a while, curving her mouth.

"Fuck propriety," he whispered. They stood in silence for a few moments then he heard her soft laugh.

"Well then," Arya stood up, and walked to the window, closing it. "I better make sure we don't freeze to death."

Arya dropped her cloak and climbed into her bed, making space for him on her side. Jon looked at her, and tried to remember how long it had been since he had slept beside a woman. But he pushed his thoughts away when Ygritte came to mind. This was not like being with Ygritte. Not at all.

Arya held onto him and closed her eyes. Her hair brushed his neck and he pushed it aside, making her whimper and mutter a small goodnight. Jon pulled her closer and her warmth reminded him of his childhood days, when he slept with her tucked under his arm and him smiling against her hair.

I could still do that, he thought, inching closer to her if possible. She felt warmer than the furs on his bed or the fire in his hearth.

He kissed her head again, thinking of Sansa, her child, of Arya's tears, then fell asleep without knowing it, one hand clasped over hers tightly.

When he reached for her in the morning, her side of the bed was empty. Jon turned his head, and lifted it to see her smiling at him, from near the window, hair tousled from sleep, and cheeks flushed from cold.

"Good morning," she said, and came to sit near him, when he shifted to the other side and pointed to the bed. Arya rolled her eyes, and slipped back under the covers.

"Thank you," she said, ruffling his hair playfully. "I had a good sleep."

"So did I," Jon replied, and touched the tip of her nose with his forefinger.

"You should get up now," she said, grinning. "It's way too late for a King to stay in bed."

"A King can stay in bed for as long as he wants to," he argued. Arya nudged him with her elbow.

"I missed you, Arya Stark," Jon whispered, touching her cheek in an affectionate way, and she leaned against it. "I missed your laugh, your eyes, your curses. I missed everything about you."

His finger trailed a path down her jaw and Arya closed her eyes. It lingered over her neck when she stopped him with a swift hand.

"We should get up," she said. Jon pulled his hand away when someone knocked on the door, and Arya went to open it. Jon laid on his back, arms beneath his head, and watched as she spoke to whoever was outside the door, and after a while, closed it.

"They are looking for you," she said, gathering her cloak from the floor, and wearing it quickly. "There is someone at the gates asking for you."

Jon nodded and put on his furs, and Arya stood up on her toes to run her fingers through his hair.

"You're a mess, Your Grace," she said with amusement. "But we have to go now."

And she pulled him away by the arm.

"Sam!"

In a stride, he was before his friend, and they embraced like long-lost brothers. Jon smiled at Gilly afterwards and patted the babe on the head, and the little one made a small sound.

"You came back from Oldtown?" He asked, and eyed the long piece of cloth by the carriage.

"They didn't find any record of you being Lord Commander. There was no point of us staying there and I meant to take us back to Castle Black, but I heard of everything that happened on the way, and made my way to Winterfell. I think, Gilly and the babe would be more safe here than with the Night's Watch."

Jon smiled.

"It's good to have you back, Sam."

Arya was near him, standing silently. He knew she didn't enjoy talking to strangers. Jon followed her gaze to the gates, and frowned at her.

"Are you expecting someone?" He asked.

"No," she quickly denied. "No one."

Jon nodded and ordered for the gates to be closed when one of the sentries called.

"Tully banners!" He shouted.

Jon watched as three riders emerged from the distance. The middle one caught his eye, as he started recognizing the red cloak and the tall frame.

"Stop her from entering," he said, but Arya turned around to him harshly.

"No! I had her brought here," she said.

"I banished that woman," Jon said. "And how do you even know her?"

Arya clenched her jaw.

"This is not about you, Jon." She turned to the Red Priestess with a venomous look, who was now on her feet, being led ahead with chains around her wrists. Arya raised her hand, as the two men brought her forward.

"She and I have unfinished business," she said.