(Sorry this took so long everyone, had a bit of trouble trying to tie everything in. Not overly happy with this chapter, but it's a fill in chapter reuniting the first of the Stark siblings. Also a word of note, many of the characters may be OOC to most who follow both the books and the show, mainly because it fits my story better. In fact I am taking many liberties with the characters and how the story plays out. Thank you for reading!)
Jon sighed; exhausted and utterly spent as he all but collapsed into a chair in the great hall at Castle Black, shooting a tired smile at the young brother who placed plates of food on the table, before he gave Jon an abrupt bow and leaving.
Tormund Giantsbane, Eddison Tollett and Ser Davos Seaworth sat with him all equally as exhausted and all equally as hungry as he was.
His sister had been gone for almost three weeks, slipping out of the castle walls silently with Grey Worm and Nymeria at her side. He missed her. And worried for her. He had just gotten her back and then she left again.
But Arya had her mission. Just like how he had his. Jon just prayed to the gods she had been more successful than him.
The rallying for supporting houses had been dismal at best. There were not too many Houses willing to go up against Ramsay Bolton and his army. The Karstarks and Umbers had all sworn fealty to Bolton, taking with them a large army of men to add to Bolton's already substantial forces.
House Glover had refused to even take part in the fight, citing their distaste for the free folk and their anger against Robb for not protecting them against the Greyjoy invasion.
They had a few thousand free folk, a couple hundred Hornwood men and barely 150 men from house Mazin. Jon still had to meet with House Mormont, but unless the Bear Island had more than four thousand men up their sleeve, Jon knew the odds against them were overwhelming.
Edd watched him silently as he ate, ignoring the almost savage way Tormund ripped into his meal beside him.
"What are you thinking, Lord Commander?" Edd asked him.
"We don't have enough men." Jon told them honestly, tossing his fork onto the table, appetite gone. "Barely two and a half thousand men compared to what is rumoured to be Bolton's vast army. I'm sending these men to their deaths."
"Death comes to all men, sooner or later, my Lord." Ser Davos told him, quietly. "They were your father's bannermen, sworn to serve House Stark. They know what is expected of them."
Jon sighed again, the decision sitting heavy on his mind.
"Stop being such a whiney little bastard, Crow, war is not for the weak." Tormund told him gruffly, sharp white teeth ripping into the flesh of the chicken in his large hand. "Where there is war there is death." He swallowed the mouthful of food he had been talking around, taking a drink from his goblet wine spilling from the corners of his mouth.
Edd shook his head, turning back to Jon.
"Those men know the odds." Edd told him. "You outlined it to them in great detail. And they still joined the cause. Should they die, they do it doing something they can be proud of." Edd told him bluntly.
"My Lord," Ser Davos drew his attention. "Winning back Winterfell for your family is not the only reason why this needs to be done." Ser Davos told him. "For us to defend the North from the White Walkers and defend the South from Bolton, we need Winterfell."
"So stop being a bloody woman crying about this and that and eat!" Tormund told him, pointing at Jon's plate with his half eaten chicken leg. "We see the Bear people tomorrow. You need your strength. So start acting like you have a pecker instead of a twat!"
Edd sighed, staring at the Wildling commander.
"When does your sister get back?" Edd asked him, watching as the wildling man continued to shovel food into his mouth like he had not eaten in weeks instead of a few hours. "He's a lot nicer when she's around."
Jon's lips lifted as both 'brothers' watched as the massive red head scowled at them before resuming his eating.
For some odd reason Arya Stark had endeared herself to Tormund Giantsbane in such a way that the massive six foot warrior actually listened when she spoke.
It had been quite an amazing sight to see, the massive six-foot red-headed warrior nod like an obedient puppy when Arya spoke to him softly just before she left. Jon had watched as they both turned to look at him, before they turned to each other, Tormund bending down from his massive height and Arya tip-toeing to whisper something in his ear.
"I like your sister." The red-headed man shrugged, scowling at the pointed look Jon gave him. "Not like that, Crow." He barked, glaring at him. "No I like her fire. Her strength. There is a darkness in her that she has complete control of and she has this amazing ability to calm the most vicious of beasts." Tormund's mouth twitched. "– or at least to calm those Thenn fuckers. And that –"he clapped his large hands. "– Crow ,is why I like your sister." He shrugged. "And it's a damn sight better looking at her pretty face instead of your ugly one."
Jon chuckled, shaking his head at his friend. His sister sure had created quite a stir when she was found one morning, with Nymeria and Ghost both by her side eating with some of the leaders of the Thenn, conversing comfortably with them in the Old Tongue. Like most northerners he knew a smattering of the Old Tongue. Just words really. But he couldn't understand what she was saying to them or what they were saying to her. Whatever it was had the Magmar of the Thenn throwing his disfigured head and roaring with laughter and Arya smirking like they had been friends for years instead of minutes.
The Thenn were considered to be the most brutal among the free folk. Even the other tribes tended to give them a wide berth because they tended to kill now and not even bother to ask questions later.
But somehow, some way, his sister had gotten them to not only agree to fight in the Battle of Winterfell but also to lend their warriors to fight for the Dragon Queen.
How she did it, Jon did not know, but he was beginning to realize that his little serious had some serious negotiating skills.
"Your sister certainly has a gift." Ser Davos told him pushing his now empty plate away from him. "We could've done well with her negotiating skills when we went to see the other houses." It wasn't a reprimand just a statement of fact after the matter.
"Aye we could've." Tormund spoke up, sopping up the gravy on his plate with his bread. "But she said that this is something that you must do yourself, Crow. Show the Houses that you are ready to take back Winterfell. Show yourself worthy to not only them but to those that follow you as well. Plus she said –"
"Quite a long conversation you had with Lady Arya." Edd said dryly.
"– that they know you. Know what you look like; know where you have been for the past years. They don't know her, they only know OF her. They are more likely to follow someone they know than someone they know OF –"Tormund frowned, shrugging. "– or some shit like that."
Ser Davos stared at Tormund, frowning.
"A wise woman, your sister is, my Lord. A very wise woman."
"Riders! Open the gates! Open the gates!" a voice shouted out, drawing all their attention.
Jon's heart did a nose dive as he paused for a moment before he pushed himself to his feet, leaving the table abruptly as he made his way to the doors. Edd and Tormund close at his heels.
Coming to a stop, Jon watched as the men of the night's watch pulled open the Castle gates and three riders came through, Nymeria looping behind them.
He easily recognized his sister's petite form, resting easily of the massive black Dothraki horse that had sailed with her from the Free Cities. It was a beautiful beast, fierce and strong, untrusting of anyone but his mistress or Grey Worm. But even then the latter got a cold suspicious glare that spoke of death should he put one foot out of place.
Grey eyes clashed with grey as he met her gaze, the cold ice melting slightly as she gave a slight indication to the rider in between her and Grey Worm.
Sansa.
Jon gripped the railing in front of him as he stared her. She sat hunched over in her saddle, the hood pulled low over her face obscuring his view, body stiff probably from the many hours of riding. Heart in his mouth he turned his attention back onto Arya, desperately searching for something.
Arya pulled her horse to a stop, her gaze meeting his as she handed the reins to one of the stable boys. He couldn't read her face. Not that he could before, but this time her face was like ice. Cold, unforgiving.
Watching as she dismounted, Jon finally moved his gaze back to Sansa, noticing that Grey Worm had already dismounted and lifting his sister easily to the ground.
Suddenly something gripped him as he quickly made his way down the stairs and towards his siblings, watching as Arya nodded her head towards him and Sansa turned, her hood dropping from head.
It was like he was looking into Catelyn Stark's face again after so many years. The blue eyes, the high cheekbones, the porcelain skin, the deep red hair.
He and Sansa never had a close relationship. In fact Sansa only ever called him 'her bastard brother' ever since she had been old enough to know what bastard meant. Back then it had been a means to put him in his place. The lesser brother. The unclaimed brother. But back then she had been a child. They both had. Now standing before him was his sister fully grown.
"Sansa." He croaked, emotion leaking from his voice as he opened his arms.
Sansa quickly threw herself at him, almost toppling him over as she hugged him fiercely, her quiet sobbing heard by only those close enough to hear.
Jon felt the breath leave his body as another member of his pack mates had made their way back to him. Two down, now two to go.
Opening his eyes, he searched for Arya, noticing she was talking quietly to Tormund, who was nodding his head before he turned to leave. Stopping the man turned back towards his sister, patted her on the shoulder, before turning back to do her bidding.
Jon met his sister's gaze again watching as a slow smile tilted her lips. Uncaring of the audience he lifted his arm towards her, chuckling as she rolled her eyes before she too joined in the siblings embrace, her hug, almost as tight and as fierce as Sansa's as both brother and sister, listened to their sister's sobbing, both brother and sister thankful that their sister was now back in their arms.
:::
This was the first time in what felt like years, actual YEARS where Sansa Stark felt as if she were able to breathe. Where she didn't have to worry about someone wanting to hurt her, or humiliate her. Or use her for their own gain.
Where she felt as if she was finally safe. Safe from the insanity that was Joffrey Baratheon and Ramsay Bolton. Safe from the machinations of Cersei Baratheon and Petyr Baelish. Just finally safe. To be herself. To not worry about anyone wanting to take something from her. To finally be able to let down her defenses and breathe.
She had been used as a puppet for so many years by so many different people that she almost didn't recognize this feeling of freedom.
It was daunting and exhilarating all at the same time.
Sansa closed her eyes, resting her forehead on her upraised knees, the hot water from the bath seeping into her cold skin.
She had spent hours with her brother and sister, relearning things about both her siblings that she had forgotten and even discovering new things about them that had her heart aching.
With Jon he was very much the same serious brother she always had. Looking more like their father than her own true brothers did, with the weight of the world resting so heavily on his shoulders.
But there was a hardness in him that had eaten away at his innocence. A battle weariness that was etched into his features.
He had grown since their last meeting, taller and broader. His hair dark like their fathers and Arya's, his face pale like a true north-man. But that face bore scars that told of many battles and the darkness of his eyes that spoke of someone who was all too well versed in death.
She had never been kind to Jon growing up. She barely tolerated him and only saw him as her father's mistake as she had born witness to the hurt and humiliation her mother bore that her husband had not only dishonoured her, but bought that mistake back to Winterfell for her mother to help raise.
So she had followed her mother's lead by treating Jon less than he deserved.
But she could honestly say that when she saw him for the first time years, all that old pettiness and childishness melted away and when she stepped into her brother's arms she felt like she was hugging her true born brother and not her father's mistake.
Sansa sighed, turning her face towards her sister, watching her closely.
And then there was her sister.
Truly her relationship with Arya had been one of squabbles, pettiness and the both of them being too damn stubborn to give in. She could say that she had loved her sister growing up, but she didn't necessarily like her.
But those nights on the road from Winterfell to the Wall had both sisters' quietly talking to each other without the pettiness and the jealousies getting in the way. The two Stark sisters finally got to know each other.
The years had changed her sister too. Gone was the out of control wild child with the long Stark features and the permanent scowl.
In her place stood a gorgeously dangerous woman whose calm, controlled manner was a far cry from the rough and tumble child she use to be.
There was an untamed beauty about her sister that made a person look twice. From the fall of her ink black hair to the tone of her sun-kissed skin, Arya was definitely all grown up and definitely a woman of immense beauty.
But like Jon there was a darkness in her as well. One that like their brother spoke of untold evils that changed her little sister from the one she fought with constantly to the sister that had killed Ramsay's lover without a second thought.
Sansa had watched in horror as her younger sister viciously snapped Myranda's neck, killing the woman instantly. Watched as Arya dropped her to the ground as if she were nothing and stepped over her prone body like it wasn't even there.
And her horror didn't stem from the fact that someone had been killed. She had after all been there the day Ser Ilyen Payne had swung her father's sword and taken her father's head.
No, her horror came from the knowledge that her sister – her baby sister – had endured such a life where it was necessary for her to know how to snap a person's neck and walk away as if it were nothing.
"If I make you uncomfortable, Sansa, I can leave you be." Arya told her softly, her face and voice void of any judgement. "There are a few wildling women that could come and attend to your needs."
Sansa jumped eyes flying to her sister's, so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't realise those thoughts translated to her face.
"No! I – "Sansa swallowed, reaching out to grab her sister's hand, sorrowing over the calluses that lined the small limb, the roughness of her skin. "Please stay. I'm sorry."
Arya frowned at her, lowering herself to her knees both hands cupping Sansa's face. Her sister's thumb's brushed over the slope of her cheekbones in a familiar gesture that had Sansa closing her eyes. Their mother use to do that to Sansa whenever she was troubled or wroth. It was something that would calm her but now made her long for what use to be.
"Don't apologise Sansa." Her sister's voice was so grown up now. Husky, lyrical and so very, very feminine. "I can't imagine it's been an easy road for you but you are safe now." She tilted her face up towards hers, those grey eyes very much like their father's staring down at her. "Okay. You are safe."
Sansa nodded, cursing her weakness all of a sudden. She felt like sobbing. As if there was a torrent of emotion balled up inside of her begging to be released.
Sansa pressed her hands to her mouth trying to stem the flood of emotion but couldn't and for the first time in an age, Sansa allowed herself to cry. Allowed herself to feel the pain and the hurt and the sadness of these past few years.
She felt slim strong arms surround her and warm soft lips touch her forehead as her sister held her, ignoring the awkwardness of trying to hug her sister in the bath or the fact that she was getting soaked. Arya just held her tightly as Sansa sobbed into her shoulder, clutching at her sister's tunic.
How long the sisters stayed that way Sansa couldn't say but by the time Sansa's sobs had turned into sniffles the water had grown tepid and the suds all but gone.
"Come on." Arya said softly, drawing back from her. "Let's get you out of this water before you catch your cold."
Sansa gave her sister a watery smile.
"It's supposed to be me taking care of you little sister." She croaked her voice scratchy from her crying spree.
"Aye, and you soon will. Tonight, this is for you." Arya gave her a slow smile, their father's eyes softening and warming a little. "Tomorrow you can be the strong, unbent Sansa we all know and love. Tonight you are the Sansa that just needs a little love a care. Okay?"
Sansa nodded, standing, shivering slightly as Arya wrapped a drying fur she had been warming by the fire around her.
"Get dry and get dressed, Sansa." Arya told her softly, rubbing the furs up and down Sansa's arm vigorously. "You should get some sleep. It's late and we need to be up early on the morrow."
Sansa reached out grabbing Arya by the hands.
"Stay please." she whispered, squeezing her sister's fingers. "I – I don't think I can be by myself right now."
Arya nodded, pulling the furs tightly around her sister.
"Together Sansa, we will get over this together."
