When she first heard her mothers' excited chirping about Robert journeying North to see Jon before legitimising him, Sansa cursed. And then enlisted Arya's help in arranging the things that needed to be done.
A Stark maiden cloak, to be sure. One that could be kept for decades, she hoped. A black and gold Greyjoy cloak for her, and Direwolf cloaks fit for captains for Theon, Jon, Gendry and Robb and a Lord's cloak for her father. Scowling, Sansa supposed she needed to garb her mother in a dress and cloak. Begrudgingly, Arya agreed.
Myrcella offered to help, blushing when Trystane told her in a serious voice to make sure she was ready to make one herself. Daenerys, who had as yet avoided detection as a Targeyen, also offered her help, giggling when Sansa tutted that her Lord Brother might have need of her.
The morning of Sansas' wedding before the Heart Tree dawned a blushing pink, and she and Arya both pulled on Stark grey dresses. Jon, Robb, Bran and Rickon wear Stark tunics, lovingly sewn by their sisters, as does Ned. Theon wears a full suit of Ironborn regalia for the first time in a long while, a Kraken on his breastplate and one on his back, and his voice rings forth clear as a bell. Sansa is delirious with happiness, her Kraken replacing her Maiden cloak with the one from his own back. Her own vows are said, and she turns, grinning, to her sister, who gently drags her Bull before the Heart Tree to swear a promise of union to the Gods. From her Theon's arms, Sansa leads the cheer that goes up, the younger She-Wolf of Winterfell to promised to a strong man of the Wolfsguard.
Later, when Sansa was once again the Stark in Winterfell, she was glad that she and Arya had sorted their marriages. Joffrey Baratheon was to come to Winterfell with his father. He would arrive while Ned and the Wolfsguard were ranging. Lady and Nymeria growled low, Myrcella's lioness, Blazemane, tensed, while Dacey Mormont's she-bear, Shiera, grumbled.
And that, Sansa thought grimly, were her exact sentiments.
Still, she was the reigning Stark of Winterfell, the only one with a shred of diplomacy and the age to act. So, flanked by Dacey Mormont, Shiera, and Meera Reed, whose lion-lizard Casserion rested on her outstretched palm, she waited to greet the Southron caravan. Myrcella was busy on a ride in the Wolfswood, escorted by Trystane Martell and Aede Ondarion. She didn't know her family was coming, but Trystane did. Hopefully, he would break it to her while they rode, Aede fending off any unwanted gazes.
Ignoring Joffrey's lustful gazes and answering Robert's blustering curtly, Sansa strode through the halls of Winterfell, answering all calls of 'She-Wolf the Elder' and 'Greyjoy She-Wolf' with brisk nods.
Arya sat, hearing the concerns of the North, in the Great Hall. Her frown of concentration was deeper than usual, probably because on the few occasions she had held Court, Gendry had been nearby. Shaking her head, Sansa raised her voice and announced
"Sister, our Royal guests have arrived, and our Fostered Sister will soon return to her surprise." Tilting her head, Arya replied
"Aye, Sister mine." Together, they murmured something the Southerners didn't catch, but if they had, they'd have heard both 'We do not sow, yet Winter is coming' and 'Ours is the Fury, and Winter is coming'.
The idea of mixing House Words had come from Daenerys, who had growled at someone a lifetime ago that 'Winter is Coming, in Fire and Blood'. Sansa had delightedly mixed her husbands' words with hers, and Arya also had smirked delightedly. Dacey had further embellished the custom into murmuring House words with your liegelords' as a sign of renewed allegiance.
As she did now, mumbling
"Winter is coming, Here we stand." Meera returned
"Winter is coming, from Greywater Watch."
For his part, Joffrey Baratheon, first of his name, gaped at the elder She-wolf of Winterfell. Her long boots, like those of the others fostered with her and her sister, covered black leggings, belted tunics in house colours beneath furlined cloaks. Arya's was lined with the pelt of a Winter fox, gifted to Sansa by a lord who'd wished her favor for his son. Raising a brow, Sansa had sewn a cloak and gifted it to her sister, carefully collecting golden furs to line the black great cloak she was making for her husband.
Her own black wolf's pelt lined cloak was wrapped around her shoulders now, her Stark tunic visible beneath Kraken black, but all Joffrey saw was the golden monster on her back.
Now, we must remember that Robert had all but promised him a Stark bride, and they had arrived to find the elder married and the younger promised to his bastard brother.
However, Sansa knew that, given the chance, Joffrey would harm her, and her kith and kin. So they were brusque and unbending, but gave their loyalty as they ought. Mayhap Torrhen had knelt to dragons, but the Starks weren't interested in losing the time, money or people to depose Robert. They would, through a quietly, gently nurtured alliance with Dorne- augmented by Western defectors- poison his House, instead.
Were it not for knowing what the men and women of the old generations were capable of, the Starks, Myrcella, Tommen, Trystane, Samwell Tarly would have been happy to live out their lives and not cared a jot. Why should they? The Others were gone. But they did know, so they plotted and planned and schemed, so that by the time they were bouncing their children, they would raze the rot in Westeros and have the greatest revenge: lives of happiness and love.
Trystane was confident he had the backing of the Sand Snakes near in age to him, and that Myrcella did too, after having offered to breed a Sand Snake or two before bearing a true child. Sansa had considered allowing Theon a salt wife, but ultimately decided that her Kraken was hers, bought and paid for by the Iron Price.
Arya had agreed, that her Bull might one day need such a thing as a Sand Snake. She had, in the same breath, agreed that she would geld him if he tried it.
'Only weak men mock another for taking a predator into their bed. I would not be who I am without my Kraken's protection, try though I and my brothers and sister might to make it unnecessary.'
Bearing a Northern frown, which looked strange on her Tully face (Gods, but Sansa did despise her looks at times) she bade them wait, that Myrcella would be along shortly.
Joffrey made his way over to the great throne at the head of the Great Hall, the Seat of Winter, where Sansa had taken the seat of the Stark in Winterfell, and Arya the guards' position. Honestly, Joffrey tried to flirt with Sansa, but he asked all the very painfully wrong questions. The women of the Wolfsguard traded expressions the whole time he did so. Perhaps worst is that he started with
"So you married a pirate?" Raising a brow, Sansa answered coldly
"I married the man who will sit the Seastone Chair." Swallowing his rage, Joffrey pressed
"Is the fucking good?" More blandly icy tone and frown
"What happens in my marriage bed is none of your concern, however, if you ask because my Kraken needs heirs, rest assured, I have only not provided them because I enjoy his cock enough to not want brats around yet." (considering she'd told the Ironborn delegation who arrived for the wedding that she'd paid the Iron Price for his cock and eventually his claim, it was no lie) Catelyn choked as the Ladies of the Wolfsguard howled, slapping the table, Dacey bellowing
"Oh ho ho ho! You tell 'em, She-Wolf!" Rolling her eyes, Sansa added assertively, inwardly chortling with glee when she jabbed blank faced
"From what I hear, my brothers are similarly endowed as my husband, and their wives of a similar mindset, after all, Winter is coming." Arya snorted, Dacey, Alys Karstark, Dany and even Meera went off into chortles and giggles again.
Cersei fumed as Joffrey's face burned, but Sansa wasn't finished.
"Hmm," She mused, delighted her bannerwomen again when she asked loftily
"I've heard dragons are quite… pleasureable." Looking up, she asked Arya with false innocence
"Do you think Theon would be very mad if I insisted we find out?" Her sister sniffed and reminded her
"Only if you cross the Sea to the Mad Beggar. I don't think he'd mind a Blackfyre terribly much, mayhaps the youngest Targaryen, if he could watch." Arya and Sansa watched their arrow hit the target, Robert's face purpling as Joffrey's had, but Myrcella called to them from the doorway, looking healthy and happy.
That might have been because she and Trystane had decided to start on their precious Sand Snakes, but she wasn't truly showing yet, just glowing with health. Myrcella herself clung to Trystane, fearful green eyes turned up to the Prince of Dorne's. He soothed her with a touch and a few words, and she relaxed against him, neither noticing the flash of envy in the Kingslayers' eyes and the possessiveness in Cersei's.
Before anyone else can speak, a member of the house guard announces that the rest of the Wolfsguard had returned. Sansa, Arya, Dany, Talisa and Catelyn rise as one, though Sansa streaks ahead, gleeful at the thought of her Kraken.
The King's entire caravan sees the Stark ladies reunited with their husbands or promised ones, Sansa dragging Theon backwards into a searing kiss, Talisa peppering Robb's face with kisses, Arya jumping into Gendry's arms and Dany laughing as Jon buried his face in her hair. Ned and Catelyn were quieter, but no less sweet.
Robert feels everything he ever was sink out into the ground when Arya Stark leaps into the arms of his blacksmith warrior bastard, who spins on his heel as if he's done this a thousand times. Arya squeals her joy, for once so totally girlish that it's hard to believe the hard edged, blank faced child who greeted him is also her. Sansa, with her sharp, bawdy japes and ice-cold courtesy, looks more like a wildling, bending her back into a kiss with her man. Jon Snow, all Stark look and ice grey eyes, greets his (Beloved? Betrothed? Wife?) with a look of adoration before dropping to his knees and burying his face into her stomach instead of smelling her hair. Robb and Talisa are being positively proper, holding each others' faces and whispering words of love.
Robert's throat locks when he sees his daughter run to her brother, laughing delightedly when he scoops her into the other arm, crushing her into his chest before carefully handing her to a pinch-faced Trystane, who murmurs what is probably a scolding for possibly injuring their little Sand lion. Myrcella's giggles subside as a harried Trystane carries her back into the keep.
Aede Ondarion winces at the sharp look Cersei sends at his cousins' back. Trystane has been excited about his match to Myrcella since before she'd offered him Sand Snakes. Shaking his head, the eldest of the secret Targeryen trio herds his brothers' kin inside, smirking at Catelyn because he can.