They rode into a courtyard full of men, all who paused in their work to stare at the newcomers. Sansa found the attention a little disconcerting and looked around cautiously before dismounting. She wasn't sure who to ask about where she could find Jon but it was vital for her to find him. She was grateful to have Brienne and Podrick by her side to provide support among the sea of strange faces.

As her gaze skimmed the yard full of men once more, her eyes fell on a figure standing on an elevated wooden platform. She knew. Even before she fully recognized him, she knew. Her heart kicked up a ruckus as if trying to escape from her chest and it was all she could do not to faint. But oh how she trembled!

He knew too because he appeared to be frozen as he stared at her; his eyes wide as if he had witnessed the appearance of a ghost.

Perhaps she was frozen too and perhaps they were both staring at ghosts because she was rooted to the very spot where she stood and unable to believe what her eyes were seeing.

He slowly made his way down the steps as if in a trance, drawn towards her by some powerful force.

Her eyes devoured him, drinking in the sight of him until she felt drunk. For so long she had been starved for the presence of her family only to be deprived yet and yet again.

He stopped a few feet shy of her and all they could do was stare, afraid, but aching to hold one another.

Sansa was unable to resist any longer. Jon. She closed the distance between them and flung herself into his arms, realizing that he was trembling just as much as she was.

His hug was crushing but it was the best hug that she had ever felt. She wrapped her arms around his neck and breathed in his scent, desperate to hold on to the moment for as long as possible. But she was fearful that something would go wrong. That somehow he would be ripped away from her because that's just the way her life seemed to go. She shoved the dark thoughts away and savored the feeling of Jon's arms around her. She felt more at home in this moment than she had felt in all of her months in Winterfell while married to Ramsay.

Jon quickly cleared a path for her and ushered her inside, Brienne and Podrick following closely behind. He pulled out a chair for her in front of the fireplace and sent out an order for food to be prepared for her, Brienne, and Podrick along with mugs of ale.

Sansa was grateful for the fire and grew drowsy as she felt the heat warming up her body and chasing out the cold that seemed to have seeped down deep into her bones. She wasn't aware that she had drifted off to sleep until she felt herself being gently shaken awake.

"Your food's here, Sansa. Wake up and eat."

That voice. Her eyes popped open to see Jon's face hovering near hers. A huge smile broke across her face as she impulsively hugged him. For a second she feared that everything had been a dream. "Where's Brienne and Podrick?" she asked, looking around.

"They took their meals and drinks and went out. They wanted to give us some privacy," Jon told her.

She nodded. "This is good soup," Sansa complimented after tasting the hot meal. She took another sip as she stared into the fire. "Do you remember those kidney pies that Old Nan used to make?"

"With the beans and onions?" Jon replied, chuckling.

She turned to him smiling. It felt so good to have someone to share her childhood memories with and the happy years at Winterfell. It was better than keeping the memories locked away which she had done for years.

"We never should have left Winterfell," Jon voiced, his face growing serious.

"Don't you wish we could go back to the day we left?" Sansa questioned. "I want to scream at myself, 'don't go you idiot'." She sighed.

"How could we know?" Jon was solemn. But that wasn't unusual.

She was pretty sure Jon was born solemn. He might not have the Stark name but he was pure Stark through and through. As solemn and honorable as Father had been. She stared into her bowl of soup as she remembered how awfully that she had treated him. They had never been close. While all the other Stark siblings had flocked around their half brother and accepted him as one of their own, Sansa had shunned him. A memory rose up unbidden:

"Poor Jon Snow. He get jealous because he's a bastard," Sansa murmured.

"He's our brother," Arya declared hotly.

"Half brother," Sansa corrected, then she smiled prettily for Septa Mordane who was alerted by her annoying sister's furious outburst. Sansa went back to her stitching, ignoring Arya's fuming glare.

Poor Arya. She was also jealous because she looked like a Stark with their solemn long faces, rather than a Tully like Sansa, her lady mother, and the rest of her siblings. Not the bastard Jon Snow of course. He looked like a Stark. Sansa didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She supposed it was a good thing that he didn't resemble whoever his mother was.

What if she was some bog woman? Either way, it was a shame that he looked more Stark than Robb who was their lord father's trueborn heir. Sansa knew how her lady mother fumed over that fact. The baseborn looking more Stark than the trueborn.

Sansa snapped out of her delve into the past, her gaze shooting guiltily to Jon. How awful she had been to him back then. How clueless. She had wanted to be a proper lady and so she imitated her lady mother, embracing what Mother approved and rejecting what she had rebuffed, and oh how she spurned Jon Snow. Mother had hated him, she knew.

Suddenly Sansa's vision blurred as her eyes were flooded by tears. How can he forgive me for how dreadful I was? I can't even forgive myself. "I've spent a lot of time thinking about what an ass I was to you," she broached nervously. "I wish I could change everything."

"We were children," Jon immediately dismissed.

He was so forgiving but that just made Sansa more determined. "I was awful just admit it."

Jon chuckled. "You were occasionally awful," he conceded. "I'm sure I couldn't have been great fun always sulking in the corner while the rest of you played."

Sansa turned to him. "Can you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive," he answered.

"Forgive me," she insisted.

"Alright. Alright I forgive you," Jon gave in and Sansa giggled.

With the mood lightened, Sansa reached for Jon's ale, wanting to give it a try.

He wore an amused look on his face as he handed it over.

She took a swallow and immediately regretted it as the strong bitter taste overwhelmed her taste bud.

Jon laughed as she made a show of coughing and hastily shoved the mug back to him. "You'd think after thousands of years the Night's Watch would've learned how to make good ale," he stated.

Sansa heartily agreed as she wiped her mouth. She turned to Jon, her expression vulnerable. "Where will you go?"

Jon caught her eyes. "Where will we go," he corrected. "If I don't watch over you Father's ghost will come back and murder me."

Relief flowed through Sansa, making her feel as light as a feather. "Where will we go?" she repeated Jon's words.

"We can't stay here not after what happened," was his reply. He had given her a vague outline of his experience at Castle Black.

"There's only one place we can go," Sansa spoke up. "Home."