A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing, it means a world to me! I didn't expect it would take me a month to correct this chapter, and I also didn't expect it to turn out the way it did, but it kinda wrote itself. Hope you won't be disappointed with the results. I think I managed to discover with this chapter that I grew into a very detailed writer (don't know if it's a good thing or not, I guess it's for you to decide).

Enjoy and let me know what you thought!


II

Guide Me Home

Pod wanted to join the fight, he really did, but before he figured out the best way to make a move it was already over. Three men joined the bodies lying on the floor, making the pool of blood even deeper and darker. In the dim light of the room the crimson seemed to set the ground ablaze, taking all other shades inside and suffocating them. He was hypnotized by it, unable to look away. The blood devoured him as well.

Brienne wouldn't think about admiring it even for a second; the moment she saw the last man dropping onto the floor she quickly moved towards Jaime. The fight had been easy and she had weathered it without any problem, basically forgetting about it the moment it ended.

"Stop the bleeding," she shouted towards Pod as she passed Bronn. The bright blood was still flowing from his hand, ejected in rhythmic, regular pulses. The squire tossed himself forward and put the pressure to the wound with his own fingers, even more mesmerized as the blood got all over him as well. The light from the candles danced on the surface of the scarlet sea, casting an eerie glow over everything around.

Brienne's head was filled with all kinds of thoughts she didn't want to let in as she knelt next to Jaime's body and, with her heart beating quickly and loudly somewhere in her throat, checked for any signs of life. She rolled him onto his back and sought for his pulse, in the same time watching his chest, desperately wishing for it to move, for him to breathe, for him to be alive. Finally, after what seemed a whole eternity, she felt a beat and saw him take a shallow breath. A sigh of relief escaped her mouth; he was alive. Realizing her own breath was now shakier than Jaime's, she leaned heavily against the wall and sat down trying to calm her speeding heart.

"Is Ser Jaime alive?" Podrick asked, having finally broken free from the spell the blood put on him. The sleeves of his clothing had already soaked and he was starting to get cold.

"Yes," Brienne answered, only now able to think clearly. He was alive.

But what was he doing here so soon, without Cersei's army to follow? This was the basic question she would have to ask him once he was awake, but for now she had to focus on the time being. She knelt beside him yet again and examined his body for any mortal wounds. It was hard to distinguish where his own blood was coming from, but eventually she figured it out - it was only his right arm and face, nothing lethal. More dangerous, though, could be the fact he was so dreadfully cold, like he had already met with death and barely escaped its clutches...

She sat him up leaning his back against the wall and, instinctively, removed her thick cloak to cover him with it tightly. Pod, watching her, decided not to wait for her orders and do the similar thing for Bronn, but unlike Brienne, who was focused entirely on the Lannister knight, he noticed there were cloaks and furs everywhere around them, lacking their respective owners. They probably had to be cold and heavy with blood, but the squire decided it would still be better than nothing. Keeping the pressure on the wound, he managed to strip the nearest body of its cloak and covered Bronn with it. It wasn't an easy thing to do with only one free hand, which prompted some feelings of awe towards certain one-handed knight.

For a moment Brienne watched Jaime carefully, dreading that if she moved away, he would die unnoticeably for her. But she had to move, to do something to get them out of here as soon as possible. They needed food and warmth, their wounds had to be cleaned and dressed, and they could get it all only in Winterfell. Winterfell that might not be especially eager to welcome two travelers from King's Landing. But it was not Winterfell or even the whole North that counted, only the Starks. Sansa was smart; Brienne was sure she wouldn't mind taking both knights to the castle, especially now in light of the alliance, even if the lady had her own opinion about it. On the contrary, their abrupt arrival might prove Sansa's point, so it was only proper to bring them there. This way Brienne justified her heart's decisions by her duty and now could act with clear conscience.

Suddenly there was a rustle coming from behind the counter, making Brienne jump on her feet and draw her sword once again.

"Who's there?" she asked, gesturing to Pod to stay where he was.

A man appeared from where the rustle had come from, holding his hands above his head as a sign of surrender.

"I'm just the innkeeper, m'lady," he whispered, his voice slightly quivering as he took in the slaughter extending right before his eyes.

"What kind of a host are you if you let your guests be slaughtered under your own roof?" she asked angrily, hiding her sword into its sheath.

"I... they... they would kill me..." The man's eyes wandered over the floor with some morbid fascination.

"We'll take you to Winterfell. You will answer for your crimes before the lady of Winterfell," she said firmly, cast one look at Jaime and decided it was time to move. "Go fetch their horses," she ordered Pod and knelt next to Bronn, replacing her squire at his station as he left the inn.

The ex-sellsword was even colder than Jaime and much paler; even the dimness of the room couldn't obscure the fact he didn't look good. The time was running away as quickly as his blood.

"You, come here!" she shouted towards the innkeeper. She couldn't let any more blood to be lost and therefore she needed help.

She didn't have to repeat the calling twice as the man appeared by her side immediately. He was tall and muscular, much younger in closer proximity than she had initially thought. Basing on his built he should have been much stronger than Pod and thus of a good use.

"What's your name?" she asked him, feeling the beat of her heart attune to Bronn's pulse as she continued to apply the pressure.

"Manny, m'lady," he answered, bowing his head. She didn't bother telling him she was no lady.

"I need a bandage," she said, looking at him expectantly. He nodded and without hesitation tore a sleeve of the nearest body's shirt, made a long stripe out of the obtained material with a use of the knife he found on the floor, and handed it to her. She wrapped it tightly around Bronn's hand, cursing the situation in her mind. Despite the reason, the sense of duty and practically everything but her heart she had thought about Jaime finally coming to Winterfell at least multiple times, but in no scenario it was in any way similar to what she encountered here. The fate was a cruel master.

After finishing wrapping the material she assessed the bandage carefully. The flow of blood seemed to be contained, at least for now. That could give them some time, but not much.

Pod came back, slightly panting.

"Their horses are gone, my lady," he said, catching his breath. "The harnesses were cut off."

"The horse is a good meat as well," the innkeeper slipped before Brienne could speak up. Both Brienne and Podrick looked at him in a way that conveyed a very clear message - prisoners should remain silent.

Brienne sighed and straightened up. They had two horses for five people, from which at least one needed immediate medical attention. She would very much like to leave the host behind, but she had promised lady Sansa to bring the culprits to the castle. She couldn't let her down.

"Fetch our horses, then," she ordered and Pod went out once again, his steps in the snow suddenly all too loud in the silence of the night.

"You'll help us, Manny, and we will say a good word about you to the lady of Winterfell," she said firmly and the host nodded. She knew he would listen from now on - Winterfell offered a lot of things the village people around it couldn't have. And even as a prisoner, he would be warm and fed; why would anyone refuse such a possibility? "Help me with him," she said and threw Bronn's arm around her shoulder. Manny did the same with the knight's other arm. Together they made their way towards the open door of the inn. Brienne looked briefly back at Jaime to check if he was still where she had left him. Somehow it didn't feel right to lose sight of him right now.

Without much trouble they moved Bronn out of the building and waited until Pod brought their horses. Podrick, being a smart boy he was, led his own horse before Brienne and made it kneel.

"You'll manage?" she asked him without much concern, scrutinizing his smaller than Bronn's frame. He had to manage.

"I will, my lady." He nodded without hesitation.

"Good. You go first."

Pod frowned, but knew better than to question her orders. Once he mounted his horse, Brienne and Manny sat Bronn behind him. The sellsword's body fell hard on Podrick's back, for a moment overpowering him; the young squire was tough on the inside, however, and he managed to put a brave face on it, straightening in his saddle with a satisfied smile. His horse had some problem getting on its feet, but it was a strong stallion from the North, accustomed to difficult circumstances and arduous work, so it finally stood up and neighed to indicate it was ready to go.

Brienne already had everything planned in her mind; the ghastly light of the moon only reasserted her decision. Bronn's face was dreadfully pale, getting whiter with every passing minute. It wasn't a fault of the frail light, even though in the darkness his pallor sharply contrasted with their surroundings. She looked at the bandage she had impromptu created - it was soaking with blood.

She had seen men dying from a smaller loss of blood. Bronn didn't have much time. For a moment she wondered whether it wouldn't be better to strap Bronn to her horse and let Pod lead the horses back to Winterfell, to both save Bronn and get help; but it would probably last longer and there was always a threat of the Northerners not granting them any assistance once they heard the aforementioned help would fall to the Kingslayer. To Jaime. She wasn't going to take such chances.

She lifted her face to Pod, who patiently awaited further orders.

"You'll go now as fast as you can. If anyone stops you tell them I'll explain it later. Put ser Bronn in the first empty bed you'll find and get him a maester. There's no time to lose."

Pod nodded, feeling the graveness of the situation. The last thing he would want was for Bronn to die. He gently stroked his horse's neck and nodded towards Brienne one more time. He wasn't going to fail her.

They rode away into the night, quickly disappearing in the darkness. Brienne watched them for a few seconds, then turned around to the remaining man.

"Gather the furs from the dead," she told him, coming back inside. They needed cloaks in Winterfell; the winter was getting worse and worse, while the only thing they were producing was weaponry. No clothing, though a number of people who sought shelter and warmth in the castle was ever growing.

The host obeyed, followed her and started to roughly strip the bodies of their outer clothing. In the same time, Brienne returned to Jaime. He looked like crap, but at least crap that will stay alive. If cared for quickly, that was. Looking at him in such a state she had a brief thought that right now he resembled more the Kingslayer she had once been to escort back to King's Landing than ser Jaime she had always said goodbye to. Something in her hoped it was a good sign. Maybe they wouldn't have to say goodbye this time, at least not for a good while.

"What to do with 'em, m'lady?" Manny asked after a minute. She turned around and looked at him. He was barely standing, weighed down by the furs, so many were there. Her horse definitely won't manage to carry her, Jaime and all of these. She stood up and examined them thoroughly; they were of good fabric and could definitely prove useful considering the winter was getting harsher with every single day, but right now they were covered with blood, which made them wet, sticky, cold and heavy. No good would come from wearing such a thing.

"Take with you as much as you can," she said, making a decision. "Leave the rest."

Manny nodded, threw one of the furs away and straightened up proudly. Brienne didn't really care how exactly he thought he'll succeed in it, as long as he was going to reach Winterfell in one piece.

"Leave them for now, we have to burn the bodies," she stated and started following her own order by grabbing the first body and taking it outside. Working quickly so as not to lose Jaime out of her sight for too long, they managed to transport the corpses in a matter of minutes and soon a fire was burning brightly in the midst of one of the darkest nights.

Brienne didn't waste time admiring the flames. She quickly turned away from the fire and returned to the inn. Now they would have to be in an even greater hurry - the blaze could draw a lot of attention from people or creatures no one would like to encounter. She came up to Jaime, first retrieving his sword and hiding it in its sheath. Then she lifted the knight by his shoulders and dragged him out of the inn. Once she was outside Manny noticed his absence and rushed to help her. He was more than helpful for a prisoner. She didn't really wish him to assist her with Jaime, but nonetheless accepted his help and soon the knight was seated on her horse. She was just mounting it herself when she remembered something really important.

"Wait here," she said and quickly came back to the inn. It was completely dark inside now as all the candles had been used to create the big fire outside; she had to work blindly. Seeing nothing and hearing only the damp sounds of her own steps interfering with the calmness of the red ocean, she knelt somewhere around Jaime's previous location and reached her hands towards the ground. For a long moment all she felt under her fingers was a wooden floor and sticky, cold blood. She wasn't going to give up though, and soon she stumbled upon a cold touch of something metallic. With a satisfied smile she picked the thing up and examined it carefully, her eyes now slightly accustomed to the darkness; it was just what she had been looking for. Jaime's golden hand.

Manny waited for her outside, having gathered all of the previously discarded furs. Brienne hid the hand in a satchel hanging from her saddle, mounted her horse and made it stand up. As with Pod's animal, this horse also had some trouble getting on its feet, but it managed. Jaime's body leaned on Brienne's back; she positioned herself the way she would be sure he won't fall from the horse.

"You'll have to walk," she informed Manny, who just nodded his head. He had to be expecting that as there was no surprise in his eyes. On the contrary, he quickly and briskly started his march, making Brienne astonished by his pace. Suddenly she realized he might wish to come to Winterfell not only because of the hovering cold and hunger, but also for protection. Maybe the owners of the bodies, now burning on the pile, weren't the only ones who had taken on cannibalism as their occupation. Looking around on the alert she followed her prisoner.

They approximately had a two-hour journey ahead of them, maybe shorter if Manny kept his current pace. Now, when the adrenaline pumping in her veins finally diminished, she had time for other thoughts and emotions. She had time to finally feel the man on her horse, on her back. Her heart sped up a little as for a moment the close contact of their bodies was the only thing she experienced. Scolding the stupid organ she decided to focus on the less pleasant things, like the last memory she had of him.

Like their meeting in King's Landing. Like the way he had treated her back there.

Then and there, she had been hurt. Now and here, she was completely at peace with everything that had happened. Or rather she tried to convince herself she was, as pain still gnawed at her heart, although silenced by common sense. The heart seemed stronger than common sense, though.

She thought for a millionth time that she didn't have the right to judge him before listening to his reasons. And there could be reasons. Yes, he had behaved like a stranger she didn't know. Yes, he had been cold, angry and unfamiliar. Yes, she had expected better of him. But there were at least a few factors she considered to be to blame for such and not any other behavior.

First, they hadn't been alone there. The most important people in the whole Westeros had all been around and even though they hadn't been paying attention to her and Jaime's heated conversation, the Queen was. His Queen. His sister, his lover. She had been watching, even more hateful than during their previous meeting. Brienne had felt Cersei's eyes on her, piercing her, killing her in the Queen's deranged mind with sophisticated cruelty all over again. Even now the sheer memory made her blood run faster. She wasn't a hateful woman, but recently Cersei had been steadily taking over the place in Brienne's heart that had once been occupied by Stannis Baratheon; the darkest corners of the Lady of Tarth's heart.

Second, she truly believed he hadn't agreed with his Queen's initial decision. She had been watching him carefully the entire meeting: she had seen his expression once the wight had been revealed, she had seen him terrified though ready to fight the dead, she had seen him not satisfied with how it all had gone. She hoped he had been battling his loyalties then as now the Man Without Honor was the Man With Honor and Cersei's behaviour had nothing to do with honor, common sense, morality. He hadn't wanted to betray the living, the right cause, maybe even her. He had acted through disappointment, bitterness and the prospect of a gloomy future that awaited them all, bound by loyalties he didn't want to be bound by. Even despite their harsh conversation she still believed all of that, she still believed in him and her faith was strong.

Third, as always, they had been enemies.

As always.

She sighed and focused on the road ahead of her. Whatever the truth, it didn't change a thing. She would never wish him dead, so they had to reach Winterfell sooner rather than later.

Deciding not to think about anything in particular and to simply ignore the weight of the body on her back, she followed Manny as they traveled to the castle. The innkeeper was surprisingly strong and managed to keep his pace. Soon they reached the gates.

Pod was waiting for her on the other side of the walls, his face bearing a worried expression.

"How is he?" Brienne asked quickly, dreading the worst.

"The maester said plenty of vessels were cut and he lost a lot of blood," Pod answered, taking hold of the reins. "If he survives the night, he'll live. But that's not so certain."

It didn't sound good. She really hoped they would get here in time to save Bronn, but apparently they might have been too late. It wasn't a place to dwell on it now, though.

Brienne looked at the guards standing near the gate.

"Dispose of the cloaks and take this man to the dungeons," she told them. One man reacted quickly, obeying the first part of her order, while the other two looked at each other uneasily. "What is it?" she asked, frowning.

"There is no room in the dungeons, ma'am," came the answer.

"There is no room anywhere," Pod added. "I put ser Bronn in my own chamber."

Brienne sighed and dismounted her horse, catching Jaime just in the right moment. She thought she heard him mumble something incoherently; maybe his consciousness was slowly coming back to him.

"Even the damaged parts of the castle are currently inhabited," Pod continued. "There are too many people looking for shelter."

Brienne knew that apart from the smallfolk coming to Winterfell, the real problem with quarters had arisen with the arrival of the Dragon Queen's people. Some of them had to camp outside, like the Unsullied who had settled a little west from the castle, but the Dothraki were hiding inside the walls, gathering around fires and shaking from the cold. She didn't realize the castle was already so overcrowded though.

"Fine," she muttered through clenched teeth, Jaime suddenly too heavy in her arms. "Help me with him," she said to Pod and he vigorously obeyed. Pod was Pod, she didn't mind having him help her with anything. "Find a place where you can keep this man guarded," she barked towards the remaining Northerners. Manny sent them a crooked smile as they looked at him quizzically.

Her job was to bring the prisoners back to Winterfell and so she had done; now it was their job to keep him here, which probably won't be a problem. She had to focus on other things right now. Or rather other people.

"Where are we..." Pod started, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead as they made their way inside the castle.

"To my chamber," she cut him off, focusing only and entirely on the steps ahead of them. It wasn't an especially long journey, but when they finally reached her room, Pod was barely breathing. Brienne wasn't really tired, although she realized just now that she had been deprived of her outer cloak for the last few hours and hadn't felt cold even for a single moment.

They managed to insert Jaime in her bed, then let Maester Wolkan, who had previously been at Pod's watching Bronn, inside. Brienne took a position next to the door, straight as ever, watching the maester with wide eyes and quickly beating heart. Pod stood next to her and looked at his lady with worry.

After a brief assessment of all the injuries the knight had received - which for Brienne could as well last the whole eternity - the maester stood up and turned to her.

"He'll live. I need to clean and dress his wounds, and then you have to make him warm," he said, looking at Brienne. She shifted awkwardly at a sudden thought that shot through her mind after the words make him warm.

"Pod, you heard the maester." She turned towards her squire, suddenly unable to look at Jaime any longer. If she did, the thoughts would return. Highly disturbing, although definitely not unpleasant thoughts.

Pod nodded and busied himself with starting the fire in a cold hearth. Wolkan hesitated slightly before turning his attention to Jaime once again, which didn't escape Brienne's careful eyes.

"What is it, Maester?" she asked, still cautiously avoiding looking at Jaime.

"Forgive me, my lady..." the maester started, then fastened his gaze on where Jaime's right hand should have been, "...but isn't he... Ser Jaime Lannister?"

"Yes, he is."

"Don't you think..."

"I'll just be on my way to inform lady Stark of his presence here, if that is the reason for your concern," she said, hoping to do the aforementioned thing as soon as it was possible.

"Of course, my lady. I wasn't suggesting anything contrary." Wolkan bowed his head and came back to his patient. Brienne, feeling excused now, turned around and left the room.

Once outside, she closed the door behind her and stood for a moment in a dark corridor, ignoring people passing her, trying to breathe steadily. The thoughts were gone now, but worry reappeared. What if lady Sansa won't share any of her beliefs and will order her to remove them from the castle, in the best-case scenario? And what if...

Get it together, Brienne, she scolded herself quickly. There was no point in thinking "what if" and worrying about things that might not happen. So she straightened up and started walking towards Sansa's chamber. It was the middle of the night, so lady Stark should be there. Even if there still was some discussion going on in the Great Hall, Sansa had rarely been invited there. Considering Brienne's only allegiance was with the female representatives of house Stark and not house Targaryen, she didn't have anything to look for in the meeting chamber.

When she finally reached the right door, she felt uneasy again. She closed her eyes for a moment, hoping that in any circumstances lady Stark would be wise enough to listen to words of advice. Finally, taking yet another deep breath, she knocked on the door.

"Lady Sansa, it's Brienne," she said loudly. "I need to speak to you."

"Come in, Brienne."

The answer came quickly, so Sansa must have been awake. Brienne walked inside and found her lady sitting near the fire, staring at the flames. When Brienne closed the door behind her, Sansa turned around and looked at her expectantly.

"And? Was it true?"

"I'm afraid yes, my lady."

Sansa exhaled a deep, shaky breath, her eyes yet again focusing on the dancing flames. It was the truth she found really hard to accept as such.

"Did you manage to capture these people?" she asked, the fire casting a wavering shadow that somehow made her face glow.

"No." Brienne shook her head. "Some of them were already dead when we arrived and the rest chose to defend themselves and rather die than surrender. But I brought the innkeeper who let them feed on the travelers."

Sansa didn't answer. Brienne decided it was the right time to reveal the rest of her news.

"Shortly before our arrival they attacked two travelers from King's Landing," she said, keeping her voice steady.

Sansa's head snapped back towards Brienne.

"From King's Landing? Where they from the alliance?" Her eyes were wide, revealing the storm of thoughts that was currently flooding her mind. "If Cersei finds out about it, we're finished." She might not believe in the alliance, but still, if Cersei would like to find an excuse for breaking it such a situation was a perfect candidate.

Brienne hesitated.

"I'm... not sure."

Sansa frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"I..." Brienne didn't know how to say what she believed in without going too deep into her personal thoughts, opinions and hopes. She had never been a master of words and now she found it really difficult to come up with a smart answer. "I mean we were expecting them, my lady, but at the head of Queen Cersei's army, definitely not so soon. I believe the fact they got here now and without an army is a reason for doubt whether they still belong to the other side. To the alliance, I mean," she quickly corrected herself. There was no other side now, there was only the alliance. Probably. Maybe.

Sansa stood up abruptly.

"At the head of her army?" she repeated incredulously. "Who are they?"

She probably didn't have to ask, already knowing the answer, but it was better to hear the names with her own ears.

"Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Bronn of the Blackwater," Brienne answered and waited impatiently for Sansa's reaction.

Sansa chuckled and turned to look into the night beside the window, making Brienne unable to see her face. The lady knight budged uneasily, dreading the words that might come.

"My lady, I... I took the liberty of bringing them here. They were wounded and unconscious," she added after Sansa didn't answer for some time. "Pod arranged for a maester to check on them."

Lady Stark turned to her once more, her face wearing an expression of amusement. Brienne frowned, not understanding such a behavior.

"Will they stay alive?" Sansa asked, her lips forming a slight smile.

"Ser Jaime will survive, Ser Bronn might not make it through."

Sansa nodded, clearly assessing the situation.

"My lady..." Brienne started, but Sansa cut her off.

"You did well, Brienne," she said approvingly. "Don't tell anyone about them just yet. Come for me when they are awake, I would wish to talk to them."

Brienne nodded and awaited further orders, but they never came.

"You may go now," Sansa added, excusing her.

Brienne bowed her head both as a sign of understanding and as a goodbye, and left the chamber.

Once outside, she felt like some heavy burden was suddenly lifted from her shoulders. They could stay, she had done well. She will be able to hear him explain if he, of course, would choose to.

She came back to her room with a much lighter heart and in a better mood. Maester Wolkan was waiting for her in the corridor.

"I gave them both some poppy milk, so they will sleep deep and rest peacefully for a time," he said when she approached. "Tell your boy to watch Ser Bronn carefully, his condition might deteriorate in any moment. I'll come back in an hour to check on them both."

"Thank you, Maester." Brienne smiled at the man thankfully. He smiled back and then went his own way.

Inside her chamber she found Pod sitting on a chest near the foot of the bed, also waiting for her. The fire was dancing happily in the hearth and her fur was hanging above it, probably for drying from snow and blood it hadn't managed to soak with yet. And there was also Jaime, sleeping under a few heavy furs, his wounds cleaned. He looked much better now, although there was still some morbid glow to his skin.

"I brought all the things from your horse," Pod announced, bouncing to his feet. He showed her the satchel and Jaime's possessions lying next to it on the floor - his hand and sword.

"You did well today, Podrick," she said with a smile and watched as her squire beamed with joy. "Now go keep an eye on Ser Bronn and tell me the moment anything changes. Don't tell anyone else about the things that happened today."

Pod nodded and left the room still smiling widely. Brienne took his place on the chest and, looking at Jaime and seeing him breathe steadily, she finally allowed herself to stop worrying. Suddenly, when all the negative emotions disappeared, she felt tired and cold, the temperature and strain catching up with her. She had to do something to prevent herself from falling asleep, as it was a terribly long and tiring day. First, she carefully picked up the golden hand, cleaned it from blood and put it on a table near the bed, so it might become the first thing Jaime would see upon awakening. Then she took some rags, returned to the chest, drew the Oathkeeper from its sheath and put its tip onto the floor, leaning the hilt on her thigh. Cleaning the swords was a good task to help her stay awake.

But when Pod knocked on the door and came inside to tell her that Manny was still waiting near the gates for any lodging, he found her dozing over her sword, her forehead leaning against its hilt. He smiled at himself, covered her with a clean fur he found hanging in the closet and left the room, silently closing the door behind him.


Sansa was still looking into the night minutes or hours after Brienne had left her chamber, having completely lost the track of time. She felt satisfied and self-confident, in the same time muting the fury that was slowly, but steadily arising in her heart. The two knights coming to Winterfell now, alone, in some peculiar desperation, could mean only one thing. She had been right all along. And they had been wrong to disregard her, as always.

But there was one thing she had to do before fully wallowing in her victory. There was one person she owed to ask for opinion when it came to Jaime Lannister being under their roof, under her more or less protection. Not Daenerys Targaryen, not even Jon, but someone who truly had a reason for not wishing the Lannister knight to be around.

She left the room and quickly walked to her brother's chamber. She didn't have to knock on the door to hear Bran wasn't sleeping.

"What are you doing?" she asked entering. Bran was sitting near the fire, while Arya perched on his bed, laughing.

"We're remembering," Arya answered, gesturing for Sansa to sit next to her. "Believe it or not, but our little brother has an excellent memory now. And he's ruining all the fun."

"I just correct your misleading memory." There was something akin to a smile on Bran's lips. Sansa suspected it was the closest thing to a real smile they will ever get from him.

"Sometimes it's better this way," Arya answered and for a moment they were all silent. Then Arya smiled mischievously and turned to Sansa. "What's bringing you to our humble threshold, my lady?" She stood up, faked a curtsy and sat down again. Sansa chuckled, feeling the fury slowly leaving her, replaced by a pleasant notion of home. Why would she ever care about them if she had her family and her castle back? Even if only for a little while before they all die, it should be enough.

Bran's eyes flickered a little as he watched them smiling.

"She wants to ask if I mind Jaime Lannister being here," he answered for Sansa. She wasn't surprised he already knew that.

"Yes."

"Another Lannister?" Arya asked with disbelief.

"Yes." Sansa knew Arya wasn't very pleased with the fact her not-necessarily-ex-brother-in-law bore a Lannister name; she detested every member of this family, although Cersei had her own special place in Arya's pit of hellfire. Having to tolerate yet another lion around definitely wasn't for her taste. "Do you mind?" Sansa turned to Bran again.

"I don't." His face was expressionless as his eyes fastened on hers. As often, she had to restrain herself from shuddering and looking the other way, withstanding his gaze. "We are on the brink of the Great War. There are much more important things than dwelling on something that happened years ago between two people who are those people no longer."

"He pushed you out the window!" Arya exclaimed indignantly, not believing her own ears.

"I remember, but it doesn't matter now. It was the first step on my journey to becoming who I am now. The Three-Eyed Raven."

"You sound like you're grateful for that," Sansa noticed with slight amusement mixed with incredulity.

"It was meant to be. Maybe if he didn't push me out of that window, no one would push me towards the Raven. Towards the truth."

"Just don't thank him for that, we don't want to make pushing children out the windows his routine." She definitely didn't understand Bran right now, or the Three-Eyed Raven to be more exact, but she was glad of his answer. Somehow, she couldn't feel much resentment towards Jaime Lannister, maybe because of his love for Tyrion and his behavior towards Brienne, two things that seemed his redeeming qualities.

"Why are you acting like he's excused for what he did to us? To you?" Arya looked angry now, shifting her gaze from Bran and back to Sansa. "He should be punished!"

"There are different priorities now," Bran answered, unmoved.

"Do you have him on your list?" Sansa asked Arya.

The younger girl hesitated, but finally answered: "No. But he is a Lannister."

"As is my husband."

Arya rolled her eyes.

"He isn't your husband anymore. I don't know why you're protecting them. Do you want to be the dwarf's wife? A wolf turned into a lion, as you've always wanted." Her voice went dangerously low.

"You know it's not that simple," Sansa answered, sighing. She herself wasn't sure whether they were still married or not. Probably not, but that didn't matter; she didn't want Tyrion dead either way. Besides, she much more preferred to think she was the wife of Tyrion Lannister than the widow of Ramsay Bolton. The sheer memory of the latter made her shudder, cold shivers running down her spine. Sansa could tell Arya just that, but she wouldn't understand. She didn't know. "He is our ally and a good person. We need such people around."

"I don't like him." Arya shrugged like it explained everything.

"But you don't want to kill him." Sansa tried to remove hope from her voice and to sound confident of this opinion.

"No," Arya admitted. "At least not now."

"Promise me you won't hurt the Lannister brothers." Sansa grabbed her sister's hands and enclosed them within her own. "And I can promise you that if they ever betray us, you'll be the one to behead them." She really hoped it will never be a case.

Arya's eyes sparkled as she smiled viciously.

"Valar morghulis," she whispered. Sansa frowned.

"I don't know what it means."

"All men must die, sister."

There was a morbid flame dancing in Arya's eyes that first made Sansa slightly terrified, but then she reconsidered. She liked the phrase. Everyone will die soon, including those who wronged them. Including those she really wanted to see dead. And hopefully, not only men.

"Valar morghulis," she repeated, experimenting with the words, tasting the sound of them on her lips with an unexpected delight. She smiled and squeezed Arya's hands tighter, her eyes now blazing with a similar flame. "Valar morghulis, sister."