A/N: Thanks for all the lovely reviews and for your support of the necessary hiatus. I want to update this more regularly now but will still be balancing other commitments so I'll be aiming to post a chapter every 1-2 weeks.

Chapter 98: Jaime | Arya | Sansa

Jaime

Jaime Lannister had learned the words of the prayers but no man would ever have called him devout. He prayed to the Warrior when the occasion called for it but even then he did not do so fervently. The Seven featured little in his thoughts. He had not truly given thought to the old gods at all, not until now.

It must be sorcery.

He remembered Arya Stark as she had been at Moat Cailin. The direwolf at her side and the raven perched on her arm could not be natural, not with the way they followed her. He stole a glance at her as the Northmen fell to their knees. She had her head close to her sister's and Lady Sansa seemed horrified. Her face was stricken even if she remained no less composed than the men who were pale and muttering prayers.

They do not know.

Lady Arya seemed the only one not stunned by the tree but it appeared that she was too occupied to be conjuring it. He looked back to the tree and his heart pounded so much that he thought he could hear it. The face almost seemed familiar. The wind whispered his name still and the carved features on the tree appeared very like blood and very angry.

"Jaime Lannister," the voice whispered again.

Jaime swallowed and blinked and refused to be afraid.

"If you are going to have me killed will you bloody well do it already? This is growing tiresome."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lady Sansa shake her sister off. His good sister knelt in the snow and Jaime fancied he could see her lips moving even though she was silent. Arya Stark turned to the tree and her mouth twisted.

"He murders people. He hurts people. People die everywhere he goes."

"I might say the same for you now my lady," Jaime replied.

Arya Stark paled. Her expression did not change but the blood drained from her face. Jaime eyed the tree and tried to listen to the eerie whispering. He heard the crunch of the snow but did not know of the blade until he heard the whisper.

"Stop Arya," it said.

Jaime did not know how she was almost on him already. The blade glinted in her hand. The Greatjon lifted his head.

"We must listen to the gods when they speak."

Jaime looked up at her. There were tears in her eyes and the blade was gone. It appeared and disappeared so quickly he might have thought he imagined it. Nobody else seemed to see it. She dropped to her knees beside him and gazed at the tree.

"You have seen," she said flatly. "You have seen what he has done. Father and Mother and Robb are dead. He is one of them. He killed Jory and he killed Robb's men and he still wanted to hurt our family even after. Uncle Brynden told me."

Jaime did not bother to deny it. They would not hear him here. Arya Stark had her father's long face and she looked at him very much as Ned Stark had looked at him when he found Jaime sitting on the Iron Throne with the king lying dead.

"He has hurt many," the tree agreed, the red of its eyes almost looking like tears.

Jaime did not have to look at the faces of the others to know they were plotting his death. He cared little for the men Arya Stark named. He felt nothing about their deaths. These northerners could not make him feel guilty, not about that. The memory of Bran Stark came back to him.

The things I do for love.

He wanted to die as a warrior. He wanted his chance at honour. Mad laughter tried to bubble up in his throat at the thought. He heard the men muttering.

"The First Men offered sacrifices to the trees."

Jaime thought about making a grab for Arya's blade. He would have if he knew where she kept it. He was meant to return to Cersei, he meant to return to their children. Myrcella needed him. He had been a fool to think anything he did would make a difference to these people.

He looked at Sansa Stark. She looked back at him. Of everybody there she was the only one who seemed torn. When she looked away he knew she would not speak for him.

I rescued you, he thought bitterly.

He could almost hear her accusing answer about the war in the Vale, the war which Jaime knew was inevitable.

"He cannot die yet," the tree whispered.

Even at a whisper the voice sounded bitter to Jaime's ears. He did not understand it and while the men did not protest he saw Arya Stark stiffen. Her direwolf joined her, snarling its disapproval.

"Why not?" Arya asked in a flat voice.

"There is something he must answer to. He must tell of what happened with King Aerys. He must go South to Daenerys."

Jaime did not manage to stifle his laugh this time. The bitterness was almost enough to choke him.

It always comes back to Aerys.

Arya

Arya didn't understand why Bran was letting Ser Jaime go. She wanted to speak openly with him but she couldn't. The men were unhappy too but they thought it to be the gods and did not question it. She heard mutterings that mayhaps he might have an accident before he reached Daenerys.

"Daenerys will kill him," she whispered.

Jaime Lannister had killed Daenerys' father. She would want him dead. Aegon wanted Ser Jaime dead so Daenerys would certainly want the same. Arya consoled herself with that. It had been on the tip of her tongue to argue with Bran, to betray to the men who he was but she couldn't. It was a secret and not hers to tell. It was enough that she must find a way to tell Sansa.

She will listen to me now. I will take her to the tree and Bran will explain.

Arya took a breath and played her part. She had been stupid before the tree. She had let her anger blind her and had forgotten her training. Calm as still water. She gave the orders to have Jaime Lannister escorted south and ignored everything he said. Sansa watched on, pale and still trembling.

"He wishes to goad you into having him killed," she whispered when Arya joined her.

Arya nodded. "Daenerys will kill him. That is what I would do."

Ser Jaime smiled, showing his broken tooth.

"You say that but I seem to still be living my lady."

Arya did not scowl at him and it seemed to unsettle him a little.

"Must we truly let him go?" Sansa asked.

Arya shot a glance at those close enough to hear and when she looked back at Sansa her sister had her lips pressed tightly together and her eyes lowered. She looked ill.

"I shall meet you inside Arya."

Sansa turned away and Ned Dayne became her shadow, taking her arm and escorting her into the castle.

I do not want to let him go.

She repeated the order anyway, knowing that Bran must have reasons and Bran was the true ruler of the North, not her. She called Nymeria and made her way to the castle, desperate to rid herself of her crown even if only for a few hours.

Ser Jaime was wrong about me, she thought, struggling with the sadness and the doubt which gnawed at her. I don't bring death. The war was started by others. I play the part they made me play when they killed my father. I did what I had to do, what they made me do.

The wolf did not stay with her long. Instead Arya was surrounded by her bannermen. They appeared grim and determined. News of what had happened at the tree was travelling fast and Arya knew that men were flocking to it to pray, hoping to hear their own message from the old gods.

"How long have they been speaking to you your grace," Lord Robett asked.

Arya resisted the urge to chew her lip. "Long enough, my lord. We are meant to go North."

That was met with quiet. They had fewer questions for her than usual, instead coming and going and looking for answers elsewhere. Haldon found her on her way to the chambers her hosts offered.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

He was too clever. He always had been. Her men might think Bran to be a god but Haldon would question it.

"I received orders," she told him.

He gave her a thin smile.

"I did not think of you as one to take orders."

Arya paused at the door and did not reply. She heard the sound of somebody listening, a quiet footstep but not quiet enough for her to miss it.

"That depends on who is giving the orders."

She pushed the door open and invited him to follow. Haldon opened his mouth and Arya shook her head. Inside the chambers and with the door closed she relaxed a little. Cara waited in a seat by the bed but that did not matter. Haldon eyed the maid.

"I need you to see Sansa," Arya told him. "She is pretending that nothing is wrong but it isn't true."

"Are you going to tell me what really happened?" he asked her with narrowed eyes.

"I already did," she replied.

For a moment she thought he might question her again. He hesitated. Haldon was one who knew some of her secrets. He was a friend but she did not want to tell him this, not yet.

"I expect Lady Sansa will need dreamwine," he finally said. "Many are shaken and she will not be the only one."

Arya nodded.

"Tell her I will see her on the morrow."

He left her and she endured Cara's fussing. The maid did not ask her anything and Arya was grateful for it. They brushed each other's hair and Arya took wine in her chambers. She did not want to sleep yet. She did not want to dream yet.

"I am almost home," she whispered.

Cara looked anxious. "Are there many people in Winterfell, your grace?"

"Not as many as there were," Arya replied. "The castle needs to be rebuilt. Some parts have been fixed but it isn't the same."

Cara's agitation did not settle. "There must be many serving."

Arya took hold of her Cara's hands, knowing what troubled her.

"I will always have a place for you," she promised. "You are my friend."

Cara's lower lip trembled as though she might cry.

"I won't tell anybody."

Arya did not have to ask what she meant. Cara had seen more than most. She had lived with Arya and seen her dreaming. She saw Arya with Nymeria and the raven, she tended to Arya's clothes and no doubt had seen letters and weapons. The maid was cleverer than people gave her credit for. Arya smoothed her friend's hair and wished her own was as pretty.

"I know you won't."

Cara sniffled. "Do you wish for me to tend to Princess Sansa?"

Arya shook her head.

"I want you here," she admitted, hating herself for her weakness.

"Shall I fetch Haldon back, your grace," Cara said quickly. "Mayhaps dreamwine might help."

"It won't," Arya said flatly.

She finally climbed into her bed, wanting the wolf dreams that weren't really dreams. Arya had chosen them when travelling but it wasn't the same under the roof of a castle. She supposed it might help her to know what was happening but it would not fill her night and when the wolf dreams ended the others began.

It is because of Sansa.

Ever since she saw her sister again the dreams had been worse. She dreamed of her father losing her head. In the dreams she shouted at the men on the steps of the Sept. She shouted to them "don't hurt him". In the dreams he looked at her and Arya wanted to save him but she was only a little girl, only a stupid little girl and she screamed and Sansa screamed and it changed nothing because he still died.

If she did not dream of her father she dreamed of her mother. She did not know which of those were worse, the ones where she could not save her mother or the ones where she had to kill her. Her mother wept tears of blood but Arya still wielded her blade and then there was blood on her hands which had not been there when she truly killed the thing which had been her mother.

On this night she dreamed of Jon instead. It was no better than the other dreams. Arya was trying to get to him but every time she tried he seemed to be farther away. Rickon was crying and then Aegon was there but he only smiled sadly.

"I have to go Arya."

She tried to hold onto him, to make him stay but he still left her and then she was all alone. She woke up gasping and Cara was there.

"It is just a dream," her friend whispered.

"No," Arya said unable to hide her misery. "It isn't."

It won't be long now, she told herself determinedly. They were only days from Winterfell and then she would be with Rickon again. It would not be long and she would see Jon and nothing would stop her this time. She lay awake thinking of what she must do and of Sansa.

Bran will know.

Sansa

The dreamwine helped her to sleep but Sansa still dreamed. She dreamed of little Lord Robert and she dreamed of Tyrion and the Hound. Petyr was there too and in one moment it was the Hound and his kiss and then it was Petyr. Petyr wanted more than a kiss and she struggled against him while he breathed into her ear "Cat."

She woke and as she roused from her heavy sleep she remembered the godswood and gooseprickles rose on her skin. She felt ill all over again.

The gods know what I did.

Petyr had always stressed the importance of clean hands but Sansa's were not clean, even if nobody in the Vale knew what she had done. For a time she had imagined it was not her, that Alayne did it but being in front of the tree and hearing that voice again reminded her of when she was in the godswood at the Gates of the Moon.

She woke to Ned Dayne's concerned face.

"Shall I fetch the maester my lady?"

Sansa flushed to realise he was in her chambers. She pulled the heavy blankets to her chin and he stepped back two paces.

"You sounded distressed," he explained. "I thought somebody had intruded upon you."

"It was the dreamwine, my lord," Sansa said, clinging to the blankets as Ned averted his eyes and a flush rose to his own cheeks. "It makes me see terrible things."

"I thought-" Ned faltered. "Sandor Clegane is near too often."

Sansa knew what he thought. She knew what they all thought. They did not understand her tolerating his presence. They did not know of what passed in Kings Landing. Sansa tried to explain it to Arya once but Arya still did not want him near.

"He wants you," Arya had said bluntly.

Sansa almost laughed. It was a bitter feeling. Every man wants something. Petyr taught her that. Sandor Clegane looked at her the way many men looked at her but there was more than that to him finding his way near her.

He said he could keep me safe.

"Sandor Clegane will not hurt me my lord," she told Ned.

Sansa had feared him once. She did not fear him now. Ned was not wrong about Sandor being close. Part of her would not be surprised to find him in her chambers, asking her about Tyrion again or asking her about Petyr. She could see he wanted to.

"Forgive me for disturbing you my lady," Ned said politely before turning on his heel and quickly exiting her chambers.

Sansa almost called after him. She missed the way he had been towards her on the kingsroad. He was so formal now. Her guilt returned to distract her.

It was not me, not truly. I did what Alayne had to do, what I was told I had to do.

That gave her little comfort. That conjured more memories, more things she did not wish to think of. Her brother and sister were unharmed. Arya had people around her, people who were hers. Sansa found herself studying them, wondering if any were not what they seemed. Petyr did not have her and he had no need to hurt Arya. He shouldn't, not now that Sansa was not his daughter. She pushed her doubts aside.

I just need to return to Winterfell.

She rose and dressed. It was good to be in a proper castle. Part of her wanted to linger there before she remembered the tree and Ser Jaime. When she remembered that she wanted to flee. The entrance of the maid offered an opportunity to ask questions.

"Do we still leave on the morrow?" she asked.

Cara nodded. "The queen wishes to see you princess."

A feeling of dread crept over her. She knew why Arya wished to speak to her. Her sister had taken her arm and almost shook her in the godswood. She hissed at Sansa.

"You must not be afraid. It is not for us to be afraid. We are a pack."

It didn't make sense and Sansa knew Arya wanted to take her back there. She wouldn't go, she couldn't. Arya wouldn't understand. The gods would not curse Arya for her sins.

"I am unwell," she lied. "Tell Arya I must remain in the castle until we leave."

Cara looked concerned. "Shall I fetch the master?"

Sansa shook her head.

"If I just rest it will pass."

It seemed she had little to fear. Arya came to her chambers not long afterwards looking tired.

"I wanted you to come to the godswood with me." A slight frown appeared. "It wouldn't work anyway. We need to go alone and the men are keeping a vigil here." She gave Sansa a wary look. "Are you really sick?"

Sansa hesitated a moment.

"I did not rest well." That was the truth. "How can you not be frightened at all?"

Arya smiled just briefly.

"You will not be afraid once you understand."

Sansa seriously doubted that.

She wanted to weep as the gates of Winterfell came into view. Petyr had promised to bring her home but he hadn't. She often doubted he ever intended to. Ser Jaime had started a war to take her from the Eyrie. The thought of him made her angry. He had lied about so many things. He was no better than Cersei, he only tricked her into thinking that he was.

Daenerys should feed him to her dragons.

There were moments where she doubted though, moments where she remembered the way he spoke when he did not jape. In those moments she did not want him to die and then she remembered what Arya said he had tried to do to their kin and she was angry all over again.

A howl pierced the air and Sansa looked to see a black direwolf. Her horse almost spooked but Nymeria joined the other wolf and the two of them raced ahead. She had chosen to be ahorse for the last leg, not wanting to be amongst the last to arrive at the castle.

"The gates look different," she offered limply.

Arya turned her head. "They were rebuilt."

The horn blew and they stopped and Sansa heart fluttered wildly. They were not the first to arrive but they might have been for the welcome they received. Ned helped her from her horse and the people in the yard knelt as they entered, all but the red haired boy who looked at them warily.

"Rickon?" Sansa asked hesitantly.

"He is wroth at us leaving," Arya muttered.

"I am not," the boy retorted hotly. "You made me a promise."

"I kept that promise," Arya replied. "Did you keep yours?"

The boy nodded and Sansa heard Arya mutter "liar" but she stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug nonetheless. He frowned and looked like he might not reciprocate. When he did Arya pressed a kiss to his face while he squirmed and protested. It made Sansa feel terribly excluded until Arya released him and he turned his attention to her.

"Your hair is like mine," he said solemnly. "I knew you were coming sister."

Sansa's vision blurred. The big woman beside him with the ruined face was staring but Sansa paid her little mind. She bent before Rickon. He did not embrace her but he took her hand.

He is so big now, he is almost like Bran before he fell.

The memory made her throat tighten even more.

"You have to come with me," Rickon prompted.

The gathering in the yard had grown bigger and bigger and Sansa saw many men, all speaking in the same tongue as the Skaagosi who rode with Arya. Nobody tried to deter them as Rickon led her away. Arya offered the people quick greetings but she soon followed. Sansa heard her footsteps behind them.

As the air around them grew warmer Sansa knew where they were going. She wanted to stop but Rickon had her hand and Arya pressed close behind and one look at her sister's face told her there would be a quarrel if she tried.

I must not be afraid, she told herself. If they do not fear this then I must not either.

The heart tree loomed in front of them and Sansa knelt before it. Arya quickly joined her and Sansa saw the direwolves circling. Rickon stepped towards the carved face and spoke to it.

"You better be there," he said in a childish voice. "We won't get long."

The whispers began and Sansa closed her eyes. It was her name she heard this time, "Sansa" floating on the breeze and she almost held her breath waiting for an accusation. It did not come. When she opened her eyes the face did not seem so angry as at Torrhen's Square. It still seemed almost familiar though and Sansa did not understand why.

"What do you want," she blurted, trying desperately to be brave.

"Sansa," the voice whispered. "Sister."

A/N: As with before I have a plan so things for characters will be covered in stages. Let me know if any omissions stick out but be aware I might be planning to resolve it with time. There is only so much I can include in a chapter and there is a lot planned to happen within Winterfell and the North.

Chapter 99 returns to the West with an Asha POV and I think Dany's POV too.