Hi guys! It's been awhile, but it took me awhile to get this chapter right. I really struggle in making dialogues (really, why do I even write? haha). But here you go. I hope you guys enjoy! I'm an Arya fan, but I love Sansa too. I tried my best to show her well. :) Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or any part of Game of thrones.

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The sound of Jon's footsteps echoed in the hallways of the sleeping castle. He awoke with the lingering feeling of restlessness and panic swimming in his veins.

It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

He tried to soothe his thoughts but to no avail. His thoughts overwhelmed him. He didn't notice the howling of the winter winds, or the crunching of snow with every step he took. His feet brought him to the place he dreamed of moments before. He hesitated as flashes of his dream came to him vividly and the fear set in again.

Jon closed his eyes and saw cold blue eyes flash in his mind.

I need to see it. I need to make sure, he convinced himself. He knew that sleep wouldn't welcome him until he checked. With his mind made up, he once again stepped into the crypts. The howling of the winds faded away the further he went in. He looked from right to left and left to right again. He double checked the statues to be sure.

"Nothing but stone."

His words filled the corners of the crypts. The statue's eyes were stone grey, not blue. Their swords still lay across their laps.

Jon wondered if he heard one too many stories from Old Nan. He smiled fondly at her memory. They may have managed to reclaim the castle of Winterfell, but it will never be the same as the Winterfell of his memories.

Jon navigated through the crypts, going down the spiral stairs to the deepest level. He walked to a familiar space and called out to the darkness.

"Edrion."

The white onyx-eyed dragon stepped out from the darkness like a ghost. Edrion lay down in front of Jon's feet, allowing himself to be pet.

He's like a giant dog. Jon laughed at the thought as he showed Edrion some affection. He noted the skeletons of small animals lining the crypt.

"It's good you're fed."

Jon looked on at the sight of Edrion's white scales beneath his hand. Jon first heard about dragons from one of the many stories of Old Nan. He was captivated by every word. He would run outside and imagine a dragon flying around with him. He asked Old Nan once where he could find a dragon of his own, she simply smiled and told another story.

Maybe she knew, but how could she really? He laughed at the thought. Maybe Old Nan knew more than they all believed.

"You've grown, Edrion," he said into the silence. He noticed the dragon to be as large as the dragons of Daenerys. He felt such awe when he saw her dragons flying around in Dragonstone. Jon tried to replace the image in his mind. Winterfell instead of Dragonstone, snow instead of sunshine, and Edrion flying around the castle. The white scaled dragon would fly around as the snow fell in a blizzard around him. Nothing but snow and Edrion visible against the pitch dark sky.

It would be beautiful. Beautiful and frightening at the same time.

"Soon," he whispered to Edrion. Though he didn't know his words to be true, the word slipped out before he could stop it.

Jon stood up slowly and turned to exit his crypt. He climbed up the spiral stairs and walked until he reached the outside. With every pass of the statues, he felt their eyes watching him, and checked one last time if their eyes were blue.

Once he stepped out, he saw the sky was a light blue and the winds had seemed to settle. It's nearly daybreak, he noted. He looked up to the Broken Tower and saw crows spread around it's ruins.

"Corn, corn," he heard a crow squawk. He wondered if it was the same crow he usually saw with the late Lord Commander.

He walked past the First Keep and the Guards Hall, heading for the courtyard. As he neared, he heard multiple voices but no clanging of swords.

It's too early for trouble, he thought as he navigated and saw a crowd gathered in the middle. He saw to his right, a group of women and children from the different houses of the North. Comprehension dawned on him.

Boisterous laughter rang out from the middle of the courtyard. Jon heard a male voice, unknown to him, say, "Lady Stark, I think you're lost. You don't belong here."

He saw the sigil on the knight's armor. White sunburst on black. Karstark. He looked to the knight and saw that he was young but with a sturdy build. Standing across from him was Arya. He noticed her hand resting on the hilt of Needle.

"Ser, I'd like to remind you that Winterfell is my home. I belong in every part of it."

"My lady, I don't question you being at your home. But the courtyard is for us knights to train. Are you a knight my lady?"

"No, I am not."

"Now, My Lady, you see the problem." He said as he looked around to the group of men that have gathered around them. They all nodded in agreement. He glanced at the women and children, shrinking in their midst. Even to Jon, they looked out of place in the courtyard but Jon didn't want them to feel that way.

"I don't know about the problem you speak of. But I have a duty to do, to train these people to fight. So your useless banter is a problem for me," Arya said. She held the knight's gaze steadily and stood with arms crossed. She was standing her ground even as the men around her started to laugh at her tenacity. Wolf's blood, he thought as he looked at Arya. He had heard Ned Stark use that term to describe Arya's wildness before. It suits her.

Laughter continued as the knight looked around at the other men.

"Your duty, my lady? Your duty to whom exactly?"

"To me," Jon said, finally making his presence known. The men on either side of him stepped aside to allow him space to pass. The murmurs grew louder at his words. He approached closer to where the knight and Arya stood.

"Your Grace, I don't mean to disrespect, but the Lady isn't qualified to teach. And to teach to fight nonetheless."

Before he could speak, he heard Arya's voice.

"Then why don't we spar?",she asked the knight as she unsheathed Needle from her hilt. "You can judge for yourself, with your own eyes, whether I'm qualified enough or not."

The knight flushed at the challenge and disbelief was in his eyes. He laughed, though this time it was only him laughing.

"Your Grace, you can't expect me to actually fight a Lady?" he asked incredulous to the suggestion.

"Ser, if you question my order, then it would be best that you judge for yourself her capabilities." Jon was unsure of himself even as he said the words. He was still a knight after all, and he only saw Arya fight that one time when training Podrick. It's a risk, but it's necessary. "You have my permission to spar with the Lady."

The murmurs around him grew louder, and he saw the curiousity and disbelief in the eyes of those around him. He saw the knight in front of him blanch at his words.

"Your Grace, I couldn't dare hurt a lady."

"No need to fear for me Ser. I'll do my best not to harm you as well." He heard a few men laugh at the Lady's words, but not mockingly, he noted in relief.

The knight turned from Arya to Jon to Arya again. His hand placed hesitatingly on the hilt of his sword as he stared at Needle in Arya's hand.

Jon walked towards the practice swords lying on the ground. He picked two up and headed back to the both of them.

"Put away Needle, Arya," he said as he handed her a practice sword, "use this instead. You too, good Ser. To ease your worries. Fight without fear." Jon handed the practice sword to the knight. He hesitated, but at Jon's insistence he took the practice sword in his hands.

Jon then stepped back to give room to the pair, and the other men in the courtyard followed. The rest of the castle was starting to awake. He heard the bustling around of the armorer's and heard the clanging of metal from the blacksmiths working. The courtyard at that moment though remained silent. All eyes gravitated towards the knight and the lady, both with swords in hand. The knight held the sword in both hands, while Arya held it with one. With bated breath, each man, woman, and child in the courtyard waited with anticipation for the first move. They didn't have to wait long.

In the span of a second, Arya took the initiative upon herself to lunge and attempt a hit to the left. The knight was shocked but was able to block it in time.

Left, right, left, back, left.

Arya advanced steadily on the knight, who in his efforts to block each hit unknowingly stepping back with every advance. He realized that staying on the defensive won't work out for him too well. He overcame his doubts and joined in the offensive as well.

The knight was good and steady with every hit. But Arya was too fast and dodged all his attempts, as if she were dancing around him. She would easily jump out of the way and would hit the back of the knight, his knees, his arm, and so on.

Jon felt impressed and he realized how much she was holding back that night he saw her training Podrick. He looked around at the faces of those observing the fight alongside him. He saw amusement in some, as well as awe and admiration in others.

Good. But what matters is the end of the fight. He reminded himself that they weren't out of the clear just yet.

As he turned his attention back to the fight, the knight looked tired and frustrated and knocked against Arya pushing her to the ground. A collective gasp escaped the lips of the women and children nearby. It seemed they were completely on their Lady's side. Before the knight could point his sword to her neck, Arya rolled to the side. The knight managed to land a strike on her arm in the process. Arya jumped up off the ground in position. The knight recklessly attempted to make her yield by force. The sound of impact between the two swords resonated around the courtyard. All throughout the fight, he noticed that Arya never used her other hand to support the sword. The knight was using both hands to strike. The difference in power should be evident, but it isn't.

The knight attempted to attack from her side, but before he noticed it she had slid around and swiped his feet from beneath him. Just as quickly, Arya had the tip of her sword to the knight's throat.

"Yield," she insisted.

Jon saw the knight's chest heaving for breath and his face was red and sweaty. He looked to Arya and saw only a few wisps of hair that fell out of place from where they were held. Her breathing was steady and she had a small smile on her lips.

"Yield," she insisted again while she moved the tip of the sword closer to his throat. He hadn't noticed how or when the knight's sword escaped his hands until now.

The knight took one deep breath and finally said, "I yield." After the words escaped the knight's lips, the silence of thr crowd erupted into a ruckus. Some men approached Arya and expressed their congratulations. He looked to the group of women and children who still stood in awe. He felt relief that it turned out well.

"Fight's over. Get back to training now." Jon yelled and he saw the crowd disperse, each person busying their selves. But every now and then, he saw their eyes turn back to the pair as their hands were busy doing something else.

Jon saw Arya hold out a hand to the knight on the ground, and she helped him stand up. The knight seemed embarrassed but not a single complaint escaped his lips.

"Yer strong, My Lady." He said, nodding approvingly at Arya.

"So are you, Ser." Arya replied with a smile. The knight patted her shoulder and left. He heard the knight being welcomed by jokes and taunts. Despite the jokes, he knew that after what they all saw, no one would question Arya again. He caught Arya's eye as she walked back to the group of women and children she was to teach. They smiled at each other then Arya turned back her attention to the group. She gave them orders which they were more than willing to follow. He was thankful at the eagerness he saw in their eyes now to learn.

As Jon took looked around the courtyard, a glimpse of red hair caught his eye from the bridge between the Armory and the Great Keep.

Sansa.

Jon knew he still needed to talk to her so he headed up to the bridge and approached her. When Jon neared where Sansa stood, he noticed her eyes still on the courtyard in the direction of where Arya was teaching.

"Lady Sansa."

"Your Grace."

Being addressed as 'Your Grace' still felt strange and foreign to his ears. Formalities never suited him.

He explained to Sansa about his plan, specifically the role of the Knights of the Vale and the Dothraki. Though he was talking, Sansa's eyes were glued to the courtyard. He had no doubt though that she was listening.

"..that's where I'll need your help. To persuade them." He concluded, though he heard the hesitation in his voice.

Silence.

Jon didn't know if he should say something more. Jon was never as close to Sansa as he was with Arya. He could never guess what Sansa was thinking behind her pleasantries, and even more, behind her silence.

"For this you confide in me," she said in a calm and measured tone as she turned to face him, "But you failed to confide your plan of turning my sister into a soldier in your army."

He felt the anger in her words, and saw it even more in the glare of her Tully blue eyes. She's just like her mother. If they weren't outside in public, he felt she would have slapped him right there.

"She's my sister. My only sister. And you-"

Before Sansa could continue, Jon corrected her. "Our. She's our sister."

"No," Sansa said definitively. "She's your cousin. But she is my sister. The blood that flows within her is the exact same as the one that flows within me."

Jon could say nothing against that. He knew he had been rash when he asked Arya to help him, but it was necessary.

"I apologize for not telling you beforehand, but I don't apologize for my decision. Arya is the only one I could have asked this from."

Sansa scoffed in disbelief, "Really? She's the only one? You're surrounded by Knights, by fighters seasoned in battle! But, no. You chose her."

"I know you're not blind, Sansa. You must have known from the moment she came back to Winterfell how much she's changed. Even before that, before we left, she was as much as a fighter than us boys." Jon took her silence as permission to go on.

"You saw her. Just now, you saw her fight that knight. You saw her defeat a knight. You saw it, and all the men that were standing there in that courtyard saw it too. Even from up here, you must have seen the awe in the eyes of the women and children she's supposed to teach. They all watched her fight, and without even knowing it she inspired them. This is why it has to be Arya. She's a highborn lady. She was raised with a needle in her hand, not a sword. She's not supposed to be able to fight, but she can. She's good at it too. Yes, there may be more trained fighters here, but that's not the point. It's not skill but inspiration that we need. All the women and children should want to fight. With Arya, that's what we have." Jon tried to read Sansa's expression, but she betrayed nothing.

"We need every able person to fight if we want a chance at winning this war," Jon said as he looked down to the ongoing training of men, women, and children. It was quite the sight. He never thought he'd see the day when women were allowed to fight and train alongside men. He felt a sense of accomplishment at the sight before him.

Sansa turned her eyes back to the courtyard. He knew she understood the point he wanted to get across. She took a deep breath and turned back to face Jon.

"I'll speak to Lord Royce."

Relief flooded Jon's entire being. "Thank you, Sansa."

Jon thought their conversation was over and started to walk away. He had only took a few steps, but he stopped when he heard Sansa's voice.

"Don't let her die, Jon." She spoke softly, and he turned and saw fear in her eyes. She wasn't Lady Sansa at that moment, just Sansa Stark. As much as he wanted to promise that he wouldn't, he couldn't. He knew that in times of war, every person was only a step away from death. Jon wished he could lie, but he couldn't.

Damn the Stark in me.

"I'll try my best," was all Jon could say. His words did little to even reassure himself, and did even less for Sansa. She let it go though, and he saw as she transformed back to Lady Sansa while hiding her fears away.

Jon let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, but felt far from relieved. He looked back to where Arya was watching two women fight, stopping them at times to correct their positions. He was thankful in a way for the problem earlier that morning, because of that he believed there would be no problems with the other men.

His thoughts grew grim when he imagined Arya in the Great War to come. He knew he could never stop her from fighting, and even if he tried, she would find a way to be in the battlefield anyways.

She won't die, he tried to convince his mind. She's a good and talented fighter.

Many good and talented fighters and knights and soldiers have died in battle and you know it, said the voice in his head.

But she won't. I'll protect her. He told himself, trying as hard as he could to be confident. He looked again at Arya and the Stark features they shared. I have to.

The voice in his head became female and familiar as it said, You know nothing, Jon Snow.