3 years later
The North was hardly recognizable to it's people anymore. While still freezing in the winters, seasons were a regular and yearly occurrence. Complete thaws, an abundance of farming land in the warm months, children growing up to be taller, stronger, and happier.
After Varys' friend had visited, The Red Woman had been located, in the form of a very old woman, in the next town closest to Winterfell. Davos insisted she be burned alive, as full repayment for her crimes against Princess Shireen. Even Jon had been inclined to agree; but Sansa refused, saying that the Starks would never flay a prisoner like a Bolton, that never would a body be burned alive on the grounds of her home again.
Melisandre was beheaded. And for the moment, that put peace to it.
For the next three years, times remained semi-peaceful for Winterfell. Sansa had another child, a girl, a year later, and named her Kyria. She was dark haired, curls, like her father, and Sansa's blue eyes.
Aden was nearly 5, and already standing to Sansa's hip. He loved playing with swords and wrestling with Ghost, but also loved tending the garden with his mother. There was the same gentleness in his soul as Sansa saw in Jon's, and this brought her comfort. His Aunt Daenerys already doted on him, and sent him the finest pure white steed, raised by the Dothraki that stayed behind after her successful reclamation of the crown.
Kyria was viciously shy, and usually followed her mother or father around by their cloaktails, so she would have somewhere to hide behind if a stranger approached. But she was brilliant, reading aloud easy words already. She was also incredibly fond of her uncle, and would usually be found in his chambers, listening to him tell stories of the history of Westeros.
Arya was prone to travel, usually going away for long stretches of time, with a close few friends. She'd come back with wild stories of debauchery, and new tattoos, curling up her arms now. Arya had gotten much taller, and now was eye level with Sansa. She was lean as well, and as flexible as a cat. She'd let her hair grow, and usually had it in a high slick ponytail, a trend she'd grown fond of in an expedition to Dorne.
The family went on happily, feasts every few months, settling quarrels between bickering houses, even making a diplomacy trip to Kings Landing for a time.
Sansa was with child again, but it was still early. Sansa was aging gracefully, the only notable change was that she seemed to get more beautiful. Her hair was deepening in color, although it was still a dark golden red. Jon noticed she resembled Catelyn more often now, particularly when she was angry. And Jon was aging too, and usually kept his dark curls cut shorter now. His dark hair had lightened some, with streaks of grey growing in at the sides of his temples, and speckled in his beard, which Sansa adored.
Together, they'd blossomed, both becoming fastidious, wise, and competent rulers.
It was evening, near the end of fall, with icy winds just beginning to permeate the golden leaved trees, and frost found around the edges of puddles in the morning. Sansa was walking through the muddy courtyard, with Kyria holding her hand, stumbling along beside her. Kyria had a deep blue dress on, with a white cloak around her small shoulders. Her hair hung in ringlets, that bounced lightly as she walked.
"A raven!" a steward called. "And urgent raven, m'lady!" he was running across the courtyard towards Sansa. Kyria dipped behind the long tail of her mother's forest green skirts. She peeked out from behind it, as Sansa tore open the envelope. The envelope fell, and Kyria picked it up. She didn't recognize the seal. It was some sort of lizard, she thought perhaps, with rows of sharp teeth.
Kyria heard her mother say a word she'd never heard before. The kind of word Papa would get a smack for when he said it at dinner. Then, Sansa had scooped up Kyria, and was moving fast towards the great hall.
"Jon!" she called, as she pushed through the double doors. She didn't know what direction he might be in. "Jon?" she called again, whipping around towards the long hallways on either side of her.
"Sansa?" a voice replied, and Jon stepped from the library door in the hallway to the right. She ran to him, Kyria hanging onto her shoulder to sturdy herself.
She tried to catch her breath, and started to read the letter out herself.
"Lady and Lord Stark,
I write to regretfully tell you of my husband's course of actions, and I hope to beg forgiveness and mercy for him, as he is not of his right mind. A healer stopped by 3 years past, to help with Howland, and see if he could be cured. She gave him an elixir...I worry it could have been blood magic. Since that, he's been different. Better, in some way, with his memory returning, but darker, in other ways.-"
Jon stopped her, taking the letter from her hands. He scanned it.
"She did this." he said after finishing it. He read the rest aloud, where Sansa had left off.
"He finally decided, and he's written every house in Westeros with the evidence of Jon's true parentage, and insisting to turn against you, and revolt. A group of rebels in the North plan an uprising to take Winterfell to ensure that Bran be the head of house, and that you'll be hung for falsification of documents. That you are merely a Targaryen puppet, and act only on behalf of what the Queen wants. He knew of your relation to the queen, and that you're of Targaryen blood, not of Stark. Please believe me when I say this isn't Howland, but instead the dark magic...he was loyal to Ned Stark, as is all of House Reed, and would be until his dying day-"
He crushed the letter in his fist.
"We have to go, Jon." Sansa whispered. "They mean to kill you."
"Sansa." he said, and she was surprised to see him smiling. "Howland Reed is known to be out of his head, a madman. Do you believe any of our houses would believe a letter from a distant and forgotten house? He was well known, and so everyone knew when his brain went."
"Jon-" her voice breaking, desperate. "They could be our own men, we have no way-"
"I'll double guard patrol on the outer grounds-"
"Jon!" she shouted. Kyria's face fell, and she began to whimper. Sansa had nearly forgotten she was holding Kyria, and turned in surprise. She gathered her daughter's hands in one of hers, kissing them, giving her a warm smile. "It's nothing, darling, nothing to be worried about my sweet girl."
Kyria nodded, but still looked confused as she laid her head on Sansa's shoulder, looking at her father.
"We'll see if anyone had heard anything." Jon assured her. "But think, Sansa, really. House Reed is further from here than nearly any other house he could have written. You don't think correspondence from House Cailin, White Harbor, or Stony Shore would have arrived sooner? You don't think they, if they thought it important at all, would write and question us?"
Sansa considered this, and then felt tremendously better. He was right, of course. Unless Jyana Reed had procured a raven that flew twice as fast as other birds, there wasn't any way any house had noticed the claim.
Kyria reached for her father, as soon as she realized they weren't upset anymore. He smiled, taking her in his arms. He tugged at one of her curls, letting it bounce as he released it. She reached up for a stray curl on his forehead, and did the same. Jon loved both his children more than anything, but he had an extra soft spot for his daughter.
"How is my little northern princess today?" he asked, and she smiled brightly, hiding her face in his neck. Sansa, watching this, nearly lost herself in the moment, and forgot what she'd come in for.
"Aden?" he asked.
"He's still in lessons." Sansa said. "I was on my way to relieve him. We were going to go to the greenhouse garden, together, like we usually do when he's finished with tutoring."
"Can't I accompany you?" he asked.
"You'd have to ask Aden. The last time you went in their, you squished his blackberries."
"Yes, well, they're very low to the ground.
"They're his favorite." Sansa said. "He told me that if the walls of Winterfell belong to you, then the walls of the greenhouse belong to him."
Jon laughed, and was pleased to see Kyria grinning a little too.
"I'll leave you to it, then." he said, about to hand Kyria back to Sansa. "Please don't worry, Sansa. I'll have the maester send out letters addressing Reed's claim."
Kyria cried out in protest as Sansa reached for her. Sansa smiled.
"Keep her. I'll see you at dinner." she said. She leaned forward, kissing his cheek, relishing the familiar smell of him. She kissed Kyria too, on the nose lightly.
"C'mon then." Jon said to Kyria once Sansa was gone. He set her on the ground, and she took his hand. They walked, side by side, back to the library. "I was just looking up a record of grain trades between The Rills and The Flint Cliff. Truly fascinating stuff."
Kyria walked along the rows of books, pressing her fingers against the spines, or tapping the tags of scrolls. She hummed as she waited, not paying attention to her father reading through a slim black book above her. She investigated the runes on the base of a book near her, pressing her small fingernail into the indentation. Jon glanced down at his daughter, and smiled at her wrinkled nose as she thought.
"Daddy is a dragon, not wolf?" she finally asked. Jon nearly dropped the book he was holding. He looked down at her, and then knelt to her level. He was regularly surprised at her intelligence, but the fact she understood the relevance of his parentage in the discussion he'd just had with her mother, but this had been the most astonishing so far.
"Darling, where do you get that idea?" he asked her.
"You and mama. Said that Lady Dany and you're...like..." she looked up, searching for the correct word in her small mental dictionary. "You are like sisters."
"Kyria." Jon said slowly. "You can't tell anyone about this, do you understand? Sweetheart?"
Her eyes widened in fear, and she nodded.
"Big secret." she said.
"Aye, my little girl. Not forever, I promise. I am a wolf, Kyria, as are you."
"Direwolf." she corrected, and he smiled. He kissed her nose, and then cheek, and scooped her up onto his shoulders. She laughed, looking over the sea of bookshelves below her.