A/N: Eeeh so this one isn't as confusing as the last one, I hope. But enjoy anyway. Next chapter shall be...Jon!

Sansa

"M'lady a raven arrived this morning."

Sansa turned around to see the young maid stood by the foot of her bed, her head bent slightly, her eyes on the floor.

"Who is this letter from?" she asked. It was a rarity that she i got letters. If any one knows who I am... It wasn't a thought she wanted to dwell on, not now. Right now she had other things to worry about, like keeping peace in the Vale and trying to rule the Eyrie with little Lord Robert demanding everyone be made to fly when the upset him. It was trieing work.

"It does not say m'lady. It's just addressed directly to you 'To the Lady of the Eyrie' it says." the maid said holding out said letter in her hand for Sansa. Sansa eyed it carefully. I'm not the Lady of the Eyrie, she wanted to say, I'm the Lady of Winterfell. Of the North. Not here! But she couldn't say that.

"Leave me please." she muttered, taking the letter from the girl. She watched as she left the room, making sure the door was shut before she glanced down at the letter. There didn't appear to be anything different about it, the parchment was the same as any and the ink looked as black as her own. But something about the writing jumped out at her. She knew the handwriting. But no. It wasn't possible, was it? In her haste to open the letter, she tore a small corner off and flacking wax fell to the fall. All of this went un-noticed as Sansa's eyes flew across the page, taking in the way the letters joined and un-joined in the scruffy hand of a girl who never enjoyed their lessons together.

Dear Sansa,

I hope that this letter reaches you safely, and it is in fact you that it finds. I know I owe you a thousand explanations and apologies. I ran, I ran when I should have stayed and helped fight for our home. But I got scared. But now I'm trying to right that wrong. I'm coming home Sansa, we're going to go home.

By the time this letter reaches you, we should have made port in Gulltown. From there we shall make our way to the Vale. I cannot ask you for help, I know that, but I would ask you to allow Daenerys Targaryen and her army to enter. She claims to be the Queen, she's the last dragon, the Throne is hers by rights. I beg of you to listen to her, to heart what is will offer us, our family, before you make a decisions. The North will be ours, Winterfell will be ours again. They will be there within a day for this letter reaching you.

I shall not be with them when they reach the Vale. There is someone I must find. I pray you are well, sister, and I pray we shall see each other again soon.

Lady,

Arya Stark of Winterfell

Sansa kept re-reading it over and over again in her head, each time letting it sink in a little more. Arya was alive. She was coming back. She would be in Westeros by today. But I wont see her yet. She shook the thought from her mind. Just knowing she was alive was enough for her. It wasn't like she thought she was alone, she knew Jon was at the Wall and Bran was in Winterfell, overseeing the rebuild with Jon never far away should things go wrong. Though the thought of Rickon being out there, somewhere with only a Wildling and a direwolf to keep him face, made her uneasy. We shall find you yet Rickon, and then we well all be together again.

It didn't take much thought about what she would do. She would allow this Queen Daenerys and a 100 of her chosen men or women up to the castle, while the rest would stay in the Vale. She would listen to what she said, but nothing would sway her mind away from agreeing. If Arya has decided, it must be worth reason. She would never promise to help a Queen she did not trust, Sansa thought. She remembered her sister, small and skinny, always dressed in a boys clothes, always covered in filth, her little sister who she thought was dead. No, not dead, she was just scared.

They will question as to why I'm willing to work with a dragon Queen against the Lions, she knew. 'It is time to tell them my name.' With that thought she called her maid back in, the letter left forgotten on her bed.

"Call all the Lords of the Vale and tell them I wish to speak with them. Lord Robert is to be present as well. Have them all here read within the hour." She said, leaving no room for 'buts' in her voice. She'd learnt to speak like a Lady in charge in the time she'd been at the Eyrie, someone had to be in charge and little Lord Robert wasn't going to be making any decisions anytime soon.

"Yes m'lady." She squeak before hurrying from the room once more.

Once the girl was gone again, Sansa turned to the old wooden desk in her chamber and sat down in the hard seat. She looked down at the blank sheet in front her her, who do I write too? Bran would be the first and most obvious chose of her remaining brothers, but instead she found herself writing the word 'Jon' instead. He will know what to do better then either of us, she thought.

Dear Jon,

...

By the time she'd finished the letter and attached it to a Raven and made her way to the High Hall, everyone was there. Their chattering ceased when the entered, her skirts trailing on the ground lightly and her shoes making the faintest of sounds. When she reached the dais on which Robert was sat, they began talking again. Demanding to know why they were summoned.

"My good Lords! I fear I have news and a confession for you, and I fear you shall not like the first anymore then the second." She said, her voice ringing around the room as the men fell to silence. "I am not Lord Baelish's bastard daughter. I am no ones bastard daughter at all. I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell. My lady mother was Catelyn Stark, Lady Lysa Arryns sister. I did not mean to fool or trick you into believing me to be someone else. I am sorry if I have caused any offense to you, it was for mine own protection and Lord Roberts, and everyone else in the Vale that no one knew who I was."

The hall was silent as her words sank in. Sansa stood there, her back straight and head held high, she would take what ever foul words they threw at her with pride and dignity. But no words came. No shouts. Only silence as they looked at her, some confused, others as though they were putting the pieces together. The colour of her hair, the way she spoke.

"And what is this other news you have for us, Lady Stark?" Nestor Royce asked. Sansa looked at him, trying to gauge wither he meant his words in kindness or in trickery, but he gave nothing away.

"The last living Targaryen has returned to Westeros and shall be here in a day. All those rumors and stories we heard from the Free Cities of dragons are true, and they are coming to us. She wishes to take back the Iron Throne, and I say we help her. The Lanisters have brought nothing be dispare down on me and my family and here in the Vale."

"Can we make the Dragon lady fly?" Lord Robert asked from his seat piled high with cushions.

"The Dragon Queen will already be able to fly my little cousin, her Dragons are as real as your eagles." Sansa said smiling lightly at the boy. So young and sickly, perhaps seeing a dragon would help his health, it was a strange thought, but a thought all the same.

"And if we refuse what you say? You may be Lady Arryns blood by sister, but you're not our Lady, if the Lord Robert agrees, we shall do as he commands." Royce said.

So they do not trust me, but nor do they hate me. Caution will be what I am giving now, and if this fails and Daenerys Targaryen loses it is me they shall blame not Lord Robert. She looked at the boy, watching as he looked from all the faces in the room, looking at her last. She smiled and nodded her head. Chose right my little Lord Robert.

"I wish to see the dragons fly! Let them come up! Let the fly up!" He declared, his voice ringing throughout at the hall. If only people heard your voice and did not see you, they would not say you are so ill.

"So be it. We shall dine and speak with this Queen with Dragons on the morrow." Sansa said trying to hide the smile on her lips. All of a sudden the propect of leaving the Eyrie seemed real, the idea of going home and seeing Bran and Rickon and even Jon seemed more then just a dream. Home. So far away, but it had never seemed so close.