SANSA

It was a few minutes after breakfast when they gathered on the terrace for Jon and Arya's HEMA match. The ground where the two were to compete was padded with several mats and they had donned their protective gearing.

Arya was the face of cool confidence as she rounded off against Jon.

It was easy to see that Jon was holding back and Arya took full advantage of this, striking out with her blunt sword without any reserve.

They both struck with discipline but Arya initiated the attacks while Jon countered them.

Quick and skillful she lunged and danced out of reach. Calm and swift Jon seemed to be gaining respect for her and taking her more seriously, though he was still loath to strike first. His hesitancy cost him as Arya struck him again with her HEMA sword. Jon retaliated, striking a blunt blow to her shoulder.

Quick as a whip, Arya dropped her blunt sword and tackled Jon, locking his knees together by wrapping her arms around them and connecting her head with his midriff.

A startled gasp escaped from Jon as he toppled backwards onto the mat. "You cheated!" he exclaimed.

"I know," Arya's grin was wide and unapologetic. "I already won anyway. You weren't going to beat me."

"Rematch," Jon demanded. "This time I won't hold back."

Arya grinned. "If you insist," she replied.

True to his words, Jon didn't provide Arya any leeway now that he was aware of what she was capable of. He quickly put her on the defensive as he expertly wielded his blunt sword.

"Go Jon!" Bran cheered.

Sansa picked up the cry although it was Arya that she rooted for. "Come on, Arya! You can do it!" she encouraged.

Their cheers spurred the two on as the competition heated up. Jon ended up winning the round which only increased Arya's determination. "I'm winning this next one," she stated.

By the time it was time to leave, Jon had won several more rounds over Arya who had also snagged a few more victories.

"Time for everyone to head down and pile into the van," Uncle Benjen finally ordered.

He had rented a van that could support Bran's wheelchair, and they were all in a merry mood as he headed west towards Far Hills.

"Would it look the same? I hope it does. Does it, Uncle Benjen?" Bran asked anxiously.

"It should. I hired cleaners to maintain it every once in a while," Uncle Benjen replied.

"Why can't we live there?" Sansa wanted to know.

Uncle Benjen shrugged. "It's not my house. It's for you kids to decide what to do with it when you're old enough. I don't mind preserving it, but living there I won't do."

Arriving at the estate felt like being catapulted back in time. The exterior remained the same, the landscaping still up kept thanks to Uncle Benjen.

Bran's face was crestfallen as Arya took off at a run, most likely headed to some favorite secret spot. He couldn't freely explore like the rest of them and reacquaint himself with the property, but Uncle Benjen was trying to help as he maneuvered Bran to areas that he struggled to reach.

Sansa spun around in a slow circle as she took it all in, dazed, she made her way inside, making a beeline for her childhood room.

Her breath caught as she stepped into her old room. The furniture was gone but the design was still the same. The wall and ceilings remained the same mix of pretty pastels, reflecting the fairytale dreams of the little girl she had once been. The bronze wooden floors were glossy and polished. The small chandelier that she had begged for twinkling and dazzling as the streaming sunlight caught its crystals.

Slowly she walked through the room, trailing her fingers along as she familiarized herself with everything, yet she had never forgotten. This room was engrained into her memory. She could picture everything, remember the furniture as if she had only stepped out yesterday.

Thirty minutes later Sansa stepped out, her feet leading her to the room that magnified the ache in her heart and solidified the lump in her throat. Tears streamed down her face as she stood alone in the enormous master room that belonged to her parents, wishing that they were still here. "Come back," it was a whispered impossibility. But it was true and she wished for it with all of her heart.

There was Mother's walk in closet. Sometimes she would let Sansa try on her clothes. Sansa adored the fancy dresses and hats and scarves. The beautiful heels.

There was the balcony where Mother and Father would sometimes stand and watch them running around the property. It had been Sansa's favorite spot and she'd loved standing next to Father, her chin resting on the railing as she stared with a bird's eye view over the property.

She left the balcony, reentering the room, and headed to the master bathroom with its humongous sunken tub. Sansa and her siblings had splashed around together more often than she could count when they had taken bubble baths together. But by the time Rickon was born they were too old for that.

Rickon's room was nearby and a raw pain tore at her heart as Sansa stepped into his nursery. Rickon the baby. He'd only been three.

A nursery the color of the sky, in this room his Tully eyes always seemed to shine so bright. The ceiling was decorated with various pictures of the trains that he used to love so much. Red and blue and green. Staring up at them used to help him sleep.

Sansa abruptly spun around and left, massaging her throat as if to get rid of the tightness.

After a few deep breaths to get her bearings, she made her way into Robb's room only to come upon Jon whose face was pale and drawn. His head was down as he stood in silence, paying his respect to the boy that had not only been his brother, but his best friend. Sansa silently crept back out leaving him to grieve.

They gathered back outside an hour later to eat. A blanket was laid on the ground and a picnic set up under the shade of a large oak tree that Sansa was only too familiar with, having sat underneath it many times with Jeyne during their tea parties.

The big oak provided them cool shade as they laughed and conversed between bites of fruits, crackers, and sandwiches stuffed with delicious slices of meat, tomatoes, cheese, onions, and lettuce, which were chased down with sips of ice cold beverages.

Arya lay down on the blanket satisfied. "I don't know if this is the best day ever or the saddest day ever."

There was a slight heaviness when it was time to leave, the sun had set and the sky was darkening.

"I wish we could come back soon. I wish that I didn't live in New Zealand," Bran said sadly.

But Sansa wished that she could be back in Mother and Father's room, speaking to them a while longer. I should have told them about Petyr. What he did. But she still didn't want to think about what he did.