It had been only slightly longer than she had last seen Rickon that Sansa had seen Bran, but she the last time she'd seen him, he had been broken. He was just as broken now, but not in spirit, she could see from the moment she lept from the table and towards Hodor that he had some of the flame that had defined his life in him.
But it was tempered, like it had been in all of the surviving Starks, by experience. What her brother had been through was something she needed to know, and she was determined to get answers. Those could wait, though, because her brother was back with her.
Hodor gently lowered Bran as Sansa and Rickon snap to him, and the three crush together in a massive hug. When they had all been together, none of them had clutched at each other so strongly, so resolutely. They were together again, and nobody would ruin the moment.
Except one of them, of course, as Rickon pulls his head back and asks, "Does that mean you can be Lord of Winterfell?"
"What?" Bran, held up by the combined holds of his sister and brother, leans his own head back and blinks at the younger boy.
"Sansa's been teaching me, and it sounds boring," Rickon complains, frowning.
Bran blinks at him a few more times, then snorts and starts to laugh. After a few seconds to regain control of himself he nods, "Sure, I'll take over for you."
Sansa starts to sag in relief, having dreaded some form of conflict. The lack left her weak with relief, which was not a good thing as was evidenced by Bran's sudden yelp as she tips them both over.
Rickon, having let go when he felt them falling, tilts his head and then turns to Tyrion, "Why'd they do that?"
"When it comes to sisters, I tend not to wonder," Tyrion tells him, "But when it comes to women, I always equate it to a strong emotion."
"I don't know what that means?" Rickon furrows his brow.
"Did Osha not teach you about women?" Tyrion asks, surprised.
"Only enough so I knew not to bother her on the third week of every month," Rickon shrugs
"A wise woman indeed," The Lannister nods sagely.
"You'd better bet your tiny little arse, Lordy," The wildling woman tells him as she steps up behind Rickon, "I taught the little lord everything he needed to know."
"That's good to hear, Osha," Bran groans from the floor as Sansa climbs off of him, "Hodor, pick me up."
"Hodor."
Bran is lifted to eye level and smiles, "It is good to be home."
"It is," Sansa agrees.
"And now that you're home, Lord Stark," Tyrion notes, "I feel we should have some sort of celebration."
"I do not think that would be appropriate," Bran tells the dwarf, "Winter is coming, and with it a dark power."
"Yes, the White Walkers," Tyrion nods, "Preparations are being made for their arrival."
"And do you think whatever preparations you make will be enough?" Bran asks
"We've got dragons, dragonglass, Valyrian Steel, and Marian on our side," Tyrion points out, "I'm certain our chances are better than they would ever have been."
"Stop," Sansa waves her hand, "Tyrion is right, we will celebrate your return, and you will tell me everything that's happened to you since you escaped from Theon."
"Of course," Bran nods as Hodor sets him at the table, "Speaking of, whatever happened to him?"
"Stannis released him," Tyrion explains, "After he captured Winterfell, his guards found the lad thoroughly broken and the King's Red Woman advised that they send him home as a warning and a boon to Balon Greyjoy."
Bran nods, adjusting himself in the seat so he doesn't slip, "So, I suppose I have quite the story to tell, and one just as interesting to hear?"
As the Starks, Tyrion, Meera, and Hodor all settle down for story time, Marian slips away from where she had stopped against the doorway. She had watched all she could stand, and the memories that the reuniting family brought up within her heart felt heavy in her heart as she made her way through the ancient castle.
She'd long ago learnt to push down her grief and self loathing when it came to her family. She had failed to save Bethany and her mother, and Carver had gone and joined the Templars of all things. She remembered when she had finally tracked him down, it had been at Therinfal Redoubt. She had known, from the moment that she had lain eyes on him for the first time in three years, that he had been taken by one of the demons.
She had done what she had to, ended him as he would have wanted her too. Then she had destroyed the fort and all of the abominations within. No doubt the Templars who had survived would tell of the story for decades to come, when a mage had destroyed nearly all of their number in anger at her own brother siding with her enemies. Oh, they'd leave out the fact that most of their order had been compromised, if they stuck to the truth that'd lessen the weight and danger of mages, and they couldn't have that.
"What is wrong?" Marian's head snaps to her left, and she sees Missandei standing at the entrance to the White Room; she had stalked all the way back here and hadn't realised it, stuck in her own thoughts.
The mage smiles at her wife, "Just… thinking of old regrets."
"Do you want to talk of them?" Missandei asks, stepping up to her and caressing her face gently, "It is not often that your burdens reveal themselves so."
"You know that kid I picked up with Meera?" Marian asks, and at Missandei's nod she continues, "Well, turns out that he's Brandon Stark, Sansa's last brother."
"And you, being the kind soul that you are, brought them together?"
"Yeah."
"And it makes you think of your own lost family?"
"Yeah."
"Raise your head," Missandei gently lifts Marian's eyes until they are gazing into her's, "Your family of blood may have been lost, but you now have one of heart. You have me."
"I do," Marian agrees and cups Missandei's face, kissing her gently, "And I am more thankful with every day that passes."
"Missandei smiles, "Come, Grey Worm is preparing to entertain his men, it will be amusing."
The two of them leave the White Room, and make their way through the keep towards a more happy moment than the one Marian had just had.