Authors note: Thank you to all the wonderful reviews! I can't ever say how much it really means to me. It's what keeps my inner fan-girl thriving to write more even when my life is crazy hectic. So I am going to try something a little different. I am going to break up perspectives in this chapter between Jon and Sansa. Let me know if you like it better this way or prefer the old flow I had going. Without any further ado…

Chapter 9:

Sansa

Sansa followed behind Melisandre, lost in thought, her hand on her stomach. Was she truly carrying Jon's child. Was it possible for her after all? If it were to be anyone's child, she was glad it was his. She wondered if it were a boy or a girl, would she have her red hair or Jon's dark hair? Would the child inherit some of Jon's Targaryen lineage? Perhaps blue or green eyes? Or dark and mysterious like his. She smiled at the thought.

She strangely found herself wishing her mother was there, to tell her what to do. But what would her mother think of this? Catelyn Stark never approved of Jon Snow, but would she now knowing he was not in fact the bastard son of her husband? But her nephew by marriage. Would she be disgusted with me for taking bed with my own cousin, and now carrying his child? Oh mother, what I would do to have you here now. Sansa tried to not let her thoughts wonder to darkly, as she worried how it would affect the life growing within her. What kind of name… she knew what names she liked now, and the ones she liked when she was young and naive? Father. What would he think of this? Would he be angry? Or was this something he always thought might happen? Would he approve him to be her husband, he was every bit as strong, gentle, and brave her father wanted for her. More importantly he loved her. She could feel his love, even when he would deny it.

Would he deny our child? If the Dragon queen forbid our union? The cruel dark thought crept through Sansa's mind like an angry wasp biting and stinging with rage. How could anyone deny a helpless child. But then she thought of her mother again, who denied a helpless child because she thought him a bastard of her husbands.

"Are you alright milday?" Melisandre stopped to ask Sansa whose eyes seemed to have gone dark and distant.

"Yes, thank you," Sansa replied politely, "I'm trying to rid the demons from my head."

"Of course, we've all got our own," Melisandre said softly, thinking of her own, "Gendry, stay close."

"Aye milady," he said trying to not wander too far, he hadn't fully trusted her or forgiven the fact she tried to burn him alive for his kinds blood, but she made promises so pretty he could not refuse. They were finally close to the Walder territory, this made them all feel on edge, and rightly so as Kingslanding sent many men to protect the castle and keep it as part of their territory.

"Silence!" Brienne whispered a yell towards them, signaling for them to get low. It had been days of traveling, and they were exhausted, but this sudden panic seemed to refuel them as they all jumped aside. They watched as a large group of maybe thirty men marched down the road with prisoners tied together and dragged along. They couldn't see their faces but worried that Arya may be amongst the prisoners.

"Aye, the squirrely lass sure is feisty, she'll be a fun one tonight ay boys?" a large brusque man chortled loudly, finally in hearing range of Sansa and her companions. She tried to jump up but Melisandre pulled her back down.

"What was that!" one of the smaller meek men said pointing to the brush of the forest.

"There be ghosties in these woods there be," one man seemed to shake at the thought, "so much death! So many soulies!"

"I guess we best keep our mouths shut then and keep moving, the sooner we get to camp the sooner we can rid of this lot and get back to the master," the original brusque man said with authority. He was large easily 200lbs and hair on his head and face that looked course. Sansa shuddered at the sight of him. They waited until the group made camp and set the prisoners in a large tent of their own. Sansa pulled out her bow and arrow, looking at Melisandre for reassurance… she had been practicing a lot but not on moving targets or real people.

"I don't know if I can actually do it," Sansa whispered, it wasn't a life or death moment like she imagined it would be… this would be a person just standing guard. Someone she would never meet, who could possibly have a family.

"I know its scary, but it could mean the death of your sister if you don't," Melisandre said softly in return. They were hunched in some tall brush.

"Milady, Sansa, I know that the idea of taking a life is awful, but these are bad men. They wouldn't bat a lash at raping and murdering all of us here. If you don't aim true and make it swift, we are very much outnumbered. I know this is a lot of pressure, but we can't get to that tent with the man standing guard. I could try to cut him down, but he could sound an alarm before then. You can do this, you've become really good, a real bowman milady, "Brienne said pushing Melisandre aside.

"Alright," Sansa said taking a deep breath, placing an arrow in her bow and lifting it to her face like she had practiced. A tear rolled down her cheek as she released the bow and watched it sail straight into the man standing in front of the tent.

"Good job," Brienne said clapping her back silently. Each of them praised Sansa silently before they tiptoed through the camp as quietly as possible, scaling around each tent avoiding any shadows until they made it to the tent holding the prisoners. As the others went into the tent Sansa stopped a second to look at man who laid at her feet, her arrow buried in his throat. She meant to hit his head, but apparently it was close enough as he had choked on his own blood which still ran warmly from his mouth, his eyes wide and gaping in realization of his final moments… peering at her with knowing. She felt the threat of warm tears rising in her chest as she placed her hand to her mouth to hold in the whimper as she whispered she was sorry, Brienne whispered her name breaking her concentration.

"Good Heavens," Brienne snarled in disgust at what she saw in front of her.

"Little Bird?" his voice was gruff and raspy as he peered out at her from a few strands of hair in front of his face.

"The hound?" Sansa asked taken back as she watched the man with the burnt face, the one who had offered to take her home. If only she had said yes, perhaps she could have avoided all the pain she faced.

"I thought I killed you," Brienne snarled pulling her sword out at him.

"I thought so too you cunt, but looks like you didn't," he spat at her, his hands tied behind him with so many ropes. It was clear he wasn't easy to keep down.

"Brienne wait," Sansa said walking closer to see his face up close, "what are you doing here?"

"Aye, Little Bird, I'd sing for you but this isn't the place nor time," he said crooking his head side ways to look up at her, "your face is as sweet as ever…"

"Cut him free," Sansa demanded.

"Milady, I think this a bad idea," Brienne protested, "he was last seen with your sister, ready to ransom her for money to the highest bidder."

"He could be of some use to us," Melisandre said eyeing him carefully.

"You don't know him red witch," Brienne spat, "I cut him down for a reason."

"Brienne, please, we don't have time," Sansa said hastily, "Sandor Clegane, do you swear to server our purpose and be loyal to our companionship until this war is over? If you can swear this, we will cut you free and you can help us. We all face the same fate, might as well join forces."

"Pretty Bird makes a good point," Sandor smiled smugly in the dark, "aye, I agree to serve Little Bird. I have only one thing I must do… one mission to accomplish, if you don't get in the way of this, then you have my service little bird."

"It's Lady Sansa," Brienne spat like venom.

"Aye, Lady Sansa," the hound said mockingly. Brienne hesitantly cut the hound from his many bindings. Sansa searched the tent but each prisoner was not Arya. Where was she. But then she heard it, the screams and the cries of an attack. The group ran outside to see what seemed like a shadow move from one spot to the next taking a life in each movement. It was then that Sansa recognized Arya. She was small but fierce, bravely taking down the last of the Fray scum who destroyed their family.

"Arya!" Sansa hollered, catching her attention. Quickly Sansa pulled her bow up and let loose an arrow taking down one of the men about to catch her off guard. Arya quickly came back to as she began to stab and move forward. Brienne let out a battle cry as she and the others ran taking on the men in the camp as they swarmed from their tents. Gendry handed the hound a weapon as they all began to fight men from every which direction.

Sansa was over whelmed as she pulled arrow after arrow from her quiver letting them loose into random men around them. Sansa screamed as a man grabbed her by the hair, the edge of his blade slicing along the side of her torso, a graze but still painful, as he threw her to the ground. She grasped at her side, the blood flowing between her fingers as she scooted back in the dirt his sword glistening in the last of the sun set before she saw Arya jumping on his back her small knife ripping his throat to shreds, his blood now squirting out and covering her. Brienne was a machine as usual, one after the other fell at her blade… the hound himself unleashed his inner dog and tore them apart. Arya held her hand down to Sansa, helping her up. They stared at each other for a moment in shock to see the other.

"Arya," Sansa burst into tears pulling her in for a strong hug, despite the shooting pain it causes up her side.

"Sansa?" Arya asked looking up at her, "but where's your broideries and crown?"

"It appears neither of us are the same little girls who left home to visit the south," Sansa wiped away dirt streaked tears, "now isn't the time, let us catch up when we are out of danger."

"I have a mission, I can't go with you," Arya said looking at her sister, "I have a list that I must finish."

"Let us finish this list together little Sister, please, we've lost so many family members. The north needs us to be strong, to take back what was taken from us. We cannot divide now, not when I've come all this way to get you," Sansa grasped her sisters hand. Her sister looked so different to her, short hair to her shoulders, blood stained wearing rags and no shoes. She did not look like a Stark, but she was, "let us avenge those who've we lost, together."

"I don't know," Arya said looking back to the company her sister kept, they were all walking towards them when she saw him, "Gendry?"

"Arya?" Gendry dropped his sword as he saw her, so much older now… so much darker then he remembered. But in a beautiful dark way. She turned from Sansa and ran to him throwing her arms around him, "I thought I would never see you again!"

"Nor I you!" Arya said grasping him strongly. Sansa joined the others as they watched their reunion.

"Fuck… I'm hungry, can we get on?" Sandor said already over all the mushy stuff. Deep down he was slightly relieved to see Arya was alive and well herself, even though she left him for dead. As they were all walking together back into the woods to where they had left their horses and gear, the hound looked over to Arya who was next to Gendry, "so little Lady, that list of yours… seeing as you left me for dead and all."

"Don't worry, you're not on it anymore," Arya said looking over to him. She figured he would be useful in getting revenge.

They were finally back at their own camp; they couldn't leave as the sun had finally fully set. Sansa was in her tent while she heard Brienne talking to Arya, 'So I finally get to meet you, I'm Brienne,' she had said. Sansa smiled knowing that Brienne must have finally felt complete in her duty to Lady Catelyn. Sansa painfully peeled off her dirty clothing, folding it and putting it aside. She had laid out some riding pants and a warm long green and silver tunic with a brown fur over coat. She slowly applied the wet rag to where she was cut, trying not to cry out in pain as it burned throughout her. She let loose some tears as she pulled the rag away. The site seemed to be red with bubbles and a yellow ooze coming out.

"Sansa?" Arya asked walking into her sisters tent, between the swollen belly and the long painful wound on her side, "Sansa that looks awful…"

"Arya… I…" her vision began to go blurry as she stumbled trying to catch her balance, "I…. something… Arya…"

"SANSA!" Arya yelled trying to rush to her sister who had fallen to the ground. The last thing Sansa remembers was everyone rushing into her tent.

Jon

Jon couldn't help but sit in his tent wondering what Sansa was doing. The further away they left behind Winterfell, his home, and Sansa… the more distracted his heart became. He both resented and adored the feeling. He had felt true feelings for Ygritte, she made part of who he was… but he could never fully give himself to her. He could never give up honor or choose her. Jon could never love her that much. He thought what he felt for her was love, but it wasn't until Sansa until he truly knew what love was like.

It was a warm feeling, like returning home after a long battle, to lay in the fields as the sun glided across your face. To feel the earth beneath your fingertips, to feel safe, alive, and strong. The sensation that you were finally whole. He had felt alone for so long, never knowing where he belonged, so he took the Black… in hopes he'd find a family. He had found one, but it still didn't fill that hole in him… the loneliness and feeling of missing your half. Sansa had filled that void, she was the missing piece and a part of him felt too angry he hadn't found so sooner.

"Sire," a young boy walked in interrupting Jon's deep thoughts.

"Aye, Boy, what is it?" Jon said seeing an envelope in his hand. Was it that they finally found a way into the city, or would they sit much longer waiting to break through the barricade Cerci hid behind. To use dragon fire would kill so many, and both Jon as well as Danni had agreed this was not the way.

"Here milord," the young lad handed him the note.

Jon was surprised, it was not from Sansa whom he had sent many ravens too, but Bran. It would appear that Sansa had not been writing him because she had left the castle with Lady Brienne. Bran didn't want to lie to him, but warned him not to go looking for her. That she would be fine and had her own important mission to uphold. Jon felt panic rise inside of him. Where could she be? What could be important she would not only disobey him, but risk her life like that. Jon was interrupted by another messenger but this time the dragon queen had called for him as they had apparently had a visitor from Kingslanding.

Authors note:

Sorry I didn't have time to proofread, if anyone would like to be my Beta let me know! I don't have internet access at home and wanted to get this up before I left work. I'll read over it later and fix it up, then I will repost it when I've checked it out.