AN: I've really appreciated the feedback I've been getting from you guys! Sorry these last few chapters have been a lot of build up, don't worry more action (of the violent and romantic variety) is coming I promise!

Arya

She could not forgive herself for her sloppiness. They were back on the outskirts of Karhold, back where she'd started her trip through Westeros, all because she'd trusted Jon's trust in his men. She was disgusted with herself. She'd never be a Faceless Man now, not after this, and to be honest she wasn't even sure if that's what she wanted anymore, which made her more frustrated with herself for her bloody indecisiveness. Whether she was No One or Arya Stark she had never, never in her life been this indecisive. It made her feel restless. It made her want to kill. It made her want to pull Jon fucking Snow off his high horse (literally) and hit him until he was senseless and then kiss him until she was too.

Gods above. They'd ridden through the countryside almost non-stop for the last thirty-six hours, weaving their way around the countryside until they got to Karhold. They split up for short times, making their trail as confusing as possible while maintaining haste, but even so, Karhold would not be a safe haven for long.

She knew that the practical thing to do would be to disappear. To don a face and live for a while as if she were just another one of the small folk in the North, until all had settled down, and then creep in and slit Ramsay's throat in his sleep. That would be what No One would do. But then, No One would turn to the wife sleeping beside him and slice her forearm from palm to elbow, before placing the knife in her opposite hand and fleeing into the night, so that all the guards would see in the morning would be a battered woman's revenge and tragic end.

But she was not No One, She was Arya Stark, and Ramsay's wife was Sansa. Olly and Vero had tried to get both her and Jon to consider that Ramsay's wife might not be a Stark at all; that she might be someone impersonating one of the Winterfell children in order to lure Jon there. It was reasonable enough, and surely sounded like something Ramsay would do, but something in Arya told her that this was no trick of the Boltons'. After all these years of not knowing what was happening with her sister, whether she was dead or alive even, Arya somehow felt like now she just knew that she was nearby, nearby and in danger. Jon had seemed equally certain in his resolve.

So they rode to Karstark, where they would get the men new clothes and then travel by boat to near the Dreadfort and to approach it from the East. Olly had donned Arya's clothes again and gone into the city first to purchase clothing that was any color but black for Vero and Jon. They'd been waiting for him to appear for twenty minutes, and Arya was doing all that she could to try to keep herself from fidgeting, and to keep her eyes off Jon.

They hadn't spoken much at all since Olly had interrupted them on the riverbank, only exchanging brief words in planning their new strategy of approach. Maddox's betrayal was a huge issue, and they both knew their own issues could wait, but that didn't make it any easier for Arya to ignore during the long silent ride. It didn't help that she caught him looking at her too, on multiple occasions when he thought she wasn't paying attention, sometimes looking as if he was on the verge of saying something, sometimes with an expression that made her think he was trying to peer right down into her soul.

She toyed with the idea of sparking up a conversation, just to get him speaking to her, to ease the tension over their little group, but she decided against it. She was bad at small talk at the best of times, and she was just too tired to attempt it now. Instead, she reverted into herself, digging into her pack for the things she needed and then settling down to sharpen her four throwing knifes.

Jon must have been watching her face while the indecision raged because he snorted and settled next to her on the ground, holding his great sword and his polishing equipment. It felt strikingly reminiscent of something they might've done at Winterfell, and she felt her heart squeeze at the thought. In spite of herself she glanced up at him, her eyes full of the effects of the half-memory, and she saw his face soften a bit at her gaze, and his own grey eyes crinkled slightly in response. He stopped polishing just long enough to ruffle her hair, with his hand, and she smiled at him in earnest before returning to her knives. Whatever they were going through, she knew that Jon was still there for her, and always would be.

Twenty minutes later she was feeling almost relaxed when Olly rode into their midst, the new garments packed over the back of his horse and his cheeks rosy from the cold of the ride. Jon jumped up at once at the harried look on the boy's face.

"What is it? Is the town crawling with Boltons?"

"No sir, but there's something you'll be needin' to see. Something to do with your sister sir, the other one that is, and I- well I… I think it's best if you steel your nerves now, Lord Commander. There's a chance the market square is being watched."

Arya leapt to her feet and in one a flash her knives and the rest of the gear were back in her saddle bag. Jon gave her a look as if to ask her silently if she was ready for whatever Olly was warning them about. She gave him a quick nod, and he nodded back, then went to Olly, and took the proffered clothes.

He began stripping off his black clothes, on the spot, seemingly oblivious to the cold surrounding them and she turned back to her saddlebags, busying herself with nothing. As they had established earlier, now was not the time.

The market in Karhold was less crowded than it had been when she was a girl, but still there were enough people crowded around the raised pillory in the center of the market that she couldn't immediately see the notice that had been nailed up there. Her and Jon had wound their way through the crowd, disguised as a young farmer and his wife on their market day. She had even taken the time to shake out her hair and do it up in some semblance of a half up-do in order to make it less obvious that they were as road weary as they were. They held hands as she snaked her way forward.

She was glad it was a notice – something in Olly's voice had made her worry that she'd be viewing something a little more gruesome, but still rage boiled in her mind as she got her first glance of the thing. Nailed to the pillory was a large piece of parchment, on which bold black letters were written.

PEOPLE OF THE NORTH:

Let it be known that Sansa Bolton, formerly of the house of Stark has been accused of adultery and of attempting to pass off the baseborn child in her womb as the child and heir of her noble husband, Ramsay of the House of Bolton. For these crimes, which amount to Treason against the Realm, she is to be publically tried in the Old Way on the eighth day of this month. Anyone wishing to stand for her must report to the Dreadfort. If found guilty, her execution by flaying will begin the following day.

Posted by Order Of Roose Bolton

Warden of the North

Tied to the nail and blowing gently in the wind in front of the notice was one, long lock of auburn hair.

Sansa. There could be no doubting it now. It was darker than Arya remembered, though mostly at the tips as if she had dyed it and the dye had clung most stubbornly to the split ends at the bottom. It made the bottom inch or so look almost like Robb's color, such a deep auburn that it could almost pass for brown until it caught the light and gleamed like warm brandy. But the rest, the rest was all Sansa. Arya had spent enough of her childhood mooning over that hair to recognize it anywhere.

She was glad Olly had warned her beforehand, but even with the warning it took all her will power not to snatch the hair down and clasp it to her bosom. Instead, Arya closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, focusing on the conversation in the crowd around her.

"What's tried in the Old Way mean, daddy?"

"'At's trial by combat love. I means they'll be lookin' for someone to stand in for 'er in a fight to the death. An' if they win, well then she's not guilty. But, if they lose, well then that's what the bit about the next day is for."

Of course. Trial by combat. Well the Boltons certainly knew how to entice their target audience. It was a ploy to get them in, that was clear as day. Still, what in Seven Hells were they to do about it? They couldn't leave Sansa there, not when it was so clear that they'd do violence to her in a second to get to Jon.

She opened her eyes and glanced at him to see his eyes still fixed on the paper, his jaw set in barely controlled rage. She reached out gingerly and grasped his hand, squeezing lightly. His eyes flashed up to her, burning with rage and momentarily she let her own passion show, let her own eyes burn right back at him to show him that she felt it too, the anger and the need to do violence. But then she blinked and shook her head slowly before tugging him away after her.

When they were clear of the area and no one was watching she pulled him in to her, smiling at him resuming their roles as two simple farm kids walking around market on a lark. She stood up on tip toe and spoke in his ear in a low voice.

"Jon, they couldn't have made it plainer that this is a trap for you if they'd written 'TRAP!' on the bloody sign."

"I know, I know." He said back, dropping into the ruse as well and tickling her ear as he leaned into her to murmur back.

"And now with Maddox's information they could be going for me too. Hell there's a chance he's put two and two together and knows it was me who left him in a state of dishabille four night ago."

He broke character for a second and gave her a pointed look but didn't respond. He took her hands again, and they left the market, making their way to the shore where they'd arranged to meet Vero and Olly.

When they got there Olly looked from one to the other of them and then sighed. Arya glanced at Jon to see that his jaw was set. She must have worn a similar look as well. Evidentially the obviousness of the trap was not enough to sway either of them.

"I have to go. But I want all three of you to return to Castle Black, and await me there. It's too dangerous."

"Bollocks, I'm not letting you walk in there alone." Arya said, and Olly huffed his agreement.

"Arya…"

"Don't Arya me! You're being stupid. You really think if you just walk in there by yourself Sansa will be any better off?"

"Arya it's me they want you said yourself—"

"Jon, that doesn't matter you don't go up against the Boltons without a plan, didn't you hear what happened to Theon?"

Jon grimaced at the thought. Rumors of the gelding of the Ironborn prince had trickled out from the Iron Islands and had spread around the North as further evidence of the ruthlessness of Ramsay Bolton.

"Arya, I'm not saying it's going to be good but what choice—"

"We come with you, we make sure that if you do throw your life away like an idiot that we at least get Sansa out alive so you've something to show for it."

She tried to keep her face as straight as she could when she said it, hoping against hope that Jon was too preoccupied with the myriad of other things he had to deal with to think through how utterly out of character it would be for her to leave him in danger to bring anyone, even her long lost sister, to safety.

He however gave her a pointed look. "No. I know what you'd do, you'll pull something which will end up with you in the thick of things the second we get there. Go with Olly and Vero back to Castle Black."

"First off, I am not a member of the Night's Watch and therefore not yours to command. I'll go where I bloody well please. Second, if you think I am going to sit on my ass at the end of the world while my only remaining siblings get captured and probably killed by the same people who killed my mother and brother then you have no idea who you are dealing with!"

"I thought we weren't siblings?"

"WE'RE NOT JON BUT THAT'S NOT THE BLOODY POINT NOW IS IT?"

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Olly and Vero were looking quite shocked, evidently confused by this new development. Seeming to notice them too Jon sighed.

"Arya, what can I do, what can I give to keep you from coming and putting yourself in danger?"

"I love you Jon, but nothing."

He sighed again.

"Alright then, what's your plan."