There had been no sight or news of Bran or Rickon since Ramsay's defeat, though not for lack of trying. The idea that Bran had suddenly appeared lifted Sansa's heart in spite of the look on Jon's face.
She felt her voice catching in her throat as she spoke and she asked, "Bran's back? Have you seen him? Is he alright?"
"I have… I spoke with him."
Jon seemed to have to choose his words carefully, causing her great concern.
"Has something happened to him?" She was up and fastening her cloak around her shoulders before heading towards the door. "Take me to him, you can tell me on the way."
They found Bran in the godswood, his back to them as they approached. He faced the great weirwood, his face turned up to look at the ravens congregating overhead as the snow fell. They stopped their cawing as Sansa stepped forward, her hand coming to rest on her little brother's shoulder.
"Sister."
Sansa shot an alarmed look at Jon, who shrugged uncertainly. 'How did he know it was me?' She thought, her hand momentarily tightening on Bran's shoulder before letting it drop away. "I thought I would never see you again… Where have you been? How have you been?"
"Beyond the wall… Learning, and watching. I saw you take back our home."
His voice was so detached that it sent a shiver down the back of her neck and she involuntarily took a step backwards. She took a breath and then walked around to face him. He was older, yes, but her brother's face looked back at her.
"If you've been beyond the wall how did you see me take back the castle?"
Seemingly ignoring her question, Bran spoke. "You shouldn't worry. I know you think I'll be upset, but you're doing exactly what you're supposed to do."
"Upset?" Jon asked, shooting Sansa a curious look.
She kept her eyes on Bran but answered Jon. "That I took the North. That I stole his birthright."
"It's not mine. Not anymore."
"What do you mean?" She asked, stepping forward to kneel in front of him. "Why are you speaking like this?"
"I'm not Brandon Stark anymore. Not in the way you think. I will hold no title but that of the Three Eyed Raven."
Sansa attempted to smile while she tried desperately to find some piece of her brother she recognized. "I don't understand."
"You will. In time. For now, I believe you have a wedding to prepare for." Sansa started to rise but he looked at her again, his eyes piercing. "What you spoke to the woman about, have no fears, sister. Daenerys will not be his downfall."
With fear and confusion rippling behind the smooth exterior of her face she nodded to Bran in farewell, unable to find any words and needing desperately to get away.
Once well out of the godswood and within the council chamber Sansa and Jon sat in complete silence, both on their second glass of wine.
"What's happened to our brother?" She asked, the fear she felt coming through in her voice.
"I don't know." Jon sighed and drained his glass. "He knows things that no one could have told him and speaks like the future is laid out before him."
"If it is, isn't that a good thing? He's come home, he can help us, tell us if we're making the right decisions."
"I hope."
Just then the door opened behind them and Aegon walked in, the smile on his face fading as he took in the pair before him.
"When they told me your brother arrived I thought I would find the two of you elated... Has something happened?"
"Yes and no." Sansa shrugged offhandedly, her attitude buoyed a little by the wine. "He says he's not our brother anymore. That he's the 'Three Eyed Raven'."
Aegon grabbed a chair from the table and dragged it over the hearth between Sansa and Jon, a perplexed look on his face as he sat down. "I've never heard of a Three Eyed Raven."
Sansa huffed in frustration. "Neither have we." She drained her glass and held it between her hands, rolling it back and forth. "Whatever it is, he knows things. Things he couldn't possibly know."
"Someone must have told him." Jon was still trying to explain everything away, half convinced it was some act.
"He knew about the conversation I was having with Maggie before you came to get me. There's no way he could have known. There was no one else in the room."
"It's not possible, someone must-."
Sansa laughed bitterly. "You of all people? You were brought back from the dead, Jon. We live in a world of dragons and wights and magic. Why not a bloody Three Eyed Raven?"
Aegon reached over and took the glass out of her fidgeting fingers, holding her hands between his own. "Whatever or whoever he says he is, you can still be there for him. It's all you can do, really."
While she loved Aegon and knew ultimately he was right, she felt agitated and frightened and lashed out. "I don't know how."
"Thenwe'll figure it out together. You're not alone in this." He squeezed her hands then stood up. "Come on. We'll go to the yard."
"Why?" She looked up at him incredulously and then to her brother who was standing as well.
"You need to get out of your own head." He pulled her up out of her chair and grinned down at her. "It'll be hard to think about anything with swords flying at your head."
It took a little more coaxing but eventually Sansa found herself in the middle of the training yard opposite Aegon, dodging a relentless assault of strikes and swings. It was true that she was too occupied to think but the anger was still there, growing a little each time Aegon managed to land a blow or knock her down. Pulling herself up off the ground for the seventh time something within her let go and she charged him screaming, her sword and shield raised. With perfect clarity of mind and body she parried a defensive strike from Aegon and then lashed out, landing a blow neatly along his ribs. He recovered quickly, a grin on his face as he tried at another advance only to be pushed back again. She steadily gained ground on him, backing him up against the wall. She blocked a final swing, ducked, and came up with her sword held beneath his chin.
Revealing in her triumph, a smile spread across her face.
"That's how you use anger and fear." He said, smiling back. In one move he knocked the sword from her hand and picked her up, turning her about so that she was firmly pinned between him and the wall. "You focus on it, you let it drive you. You don't let it stop you."
Sansa huffed in resignation and relaxed, resting her forehead against his. "You're right." She kissed him then, the two of them losing themselves in each other as snow began to drift down from the sky. When they broke apart Sansa smiled and rested her head on his chest. "Sometimes I don't know how I've made it so long without you."
He pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head. "I only wish I could have gotten to you sooner…"
"You were there when I needed you the most. Without you none of this would have been possible."
He lifted her chin so that they were looking into one another's eyes, his face full of tender affection. "I would do anything for you, you know that, right? I would dress you in silks and jewels and lay the world at your feet if you asked."
"None of that matters… All I care about is you." She leaned forward and kissed him again, neither breaking the bond for a long while.
The next day was filled with last minute preparations for the wedding, something Sansa felt herself looking forward to more and more as she went about her day. She was nervous in a way, but it felt so different this time. There was no fear or sense of obligation, there was only love and the certainty that she had finally found her place in the world beside Aegon.
There were few formal duties to be seen to that day but nonetheless she found herself seated around a table with her two brothers, Connington, and Aegon. While the situation to the north was the main focus, Cersei to the south could not be ignored.
Naturally, nearly everyone had a different idea about what they should do, save Bran who sat patiently listening to them debating each plan's finer points.
The question of numbers was nearly a mute point. Between herself and Aegon they commanded nearly seventeen thousand men across the kingdoms, and in a direct fight they would almost certainly win, especially if they were able to rally Highgarden to their side. Unfortunately, Cersei sat protected by walls and countless civilians whom Cersei would gladly see die if it meant she kept her throne, making a siege difficult. If and when a siege became a viable option, they would have needed to lay the necessary groundwork.
The first step, as it often is with diplomacy, was to write a letter. Two, to be precise. One to Cersei, one to the people of the realm to be spread across the land via the mouths of the 'Criers'. This group of men and women collected and spread information as well as the best spies, only they worked their way from the ground up, starting with the common folk. They were a well known and highly praised faction within the Golden Army, and Jon Connington was able to personally vouch for their talents after seeing them work in Essos.
While there was much debate around what the contents of the letter should be, it was Sansa herself who ended up penning the missive to both Cersei and the masses. She petitioned each for peace on behalf of the united forces behind Aegon, citing his very legitimate claim while trying to convey the importance of opposing an inherently merciless regime that had proven time and again it's only concern was maintaining power at any cost.
As night started to creep in, conversation eventually turned towards the enemy to the north. On a personal level it was truly concerning, but Jon and Bran turned out to be a treasure trove of information when it came to their mysterious foe. They told them helpful recountings of their experiences with the dead, as well as the name of their leader, the Night King.
The motives of the Night King and his army of dead were unknown to all, but they were able to postulate several theories. They knew that the army had been defeated before, which meant there was hope. They also knew that the first real emergence of the wights took place sometime in the months before Danaerys' dragons were born. There wasn't any direct evidence to connect the two events, but it hardly seemed like coincidence. They also had to assume that like Bran, the Night King has some semblance of foretelling, otherwise why choose any particular point in time? All the normal things that fueled people to do terrible things, like wealth or family or love, weren't applicable to creatures living in death.
The final day having passed, the morning of the ceremony came and Sansa woke to the sounds of scuttling feet and Maggie's harsh whispers. She sat up slowly, one hand rubbing her eyes she called for Maggie, the older woman popping in through her bedroom door.
She bowed reverently and straightened. "Your grace. Are you ready for your breakfast?"
Her stomach shifted uneasily at the thought of food but she nodded anyway. "I should like my bath prepared as well."
Maggie bobbed her head and disappeared through the door, shutting it carefully on her way out. Sansa settled down at the table near the fire, pulling a fur trimmed robe about her shoulders. She sat there for sometime, letting her body and mind come wake slowly and by the time Maggie appeared with the tray of food she had changed her opinion and consumed it with alacrity. She sipped slowly at the cup of spiced wine she was presented with while her bath cooled to a reasonable temperature, the sweet smell of herbs filling the small dressing chamber. She slid into the oiled water, the warmth of it soothing her chilled skin. They scrubbed her gently from head to toe while one girl washed her hair, small deft fingers carefully loosening knots and tangles.
It was with a little reluctance that Sansa finally rose from the water and began the lengthy affair of having her hair arranged under the surprisingly creative hands of Maggie, who took great pride in her work and would not be rushed under any circumstances and especially not today. She left a great deal of her hair loose to curl about her arms but pulled the rest back away from her face in a series of intricate braids that gathered into a knot at the back of her head. As usual Maggie was underwhelmed with the masterpiece she had created but eventually said enough was enough and relinquished Sansa so that she might have more than a few moments to dress.
She slipped into a sleeveless lace and silk chemise, the fabric cold and smooth as it slid down her stomach and thighs. The dress she stepped into was nothing short of beautiful, a masterwork of white silk brocade with silver embroidered flowers that fell like snow down her sleeves and skirt to pool at her hands and feet. She moved her arms back and forth, watching the sleeves billow and shimmer in the late morning sunlight and smiled in delight.
"One last thing." Maggie's voice interrupted her reveling and Sansa turned to look down at the little woman. In her hands she held a wooden box, the top engraved with an intricate pattern of branches. One small weathered hand reached forward and pulled the lid open, revealing the treasure within. The crown shone brightly as soon as the light struck it, a circlet of silver thorns with sapphire blue winter roses glinting merrily up at her. In the center sat a folded piece of parchment and she reached for it at once, opening it with zeal. Aegon's strong tilting scrawl covered the page, bringing his voice to life before her and making her heart swell.
'My Queen of Winter,
Though it has been only hours, I spend every moment counting the seconds until I see you again. I've asked for this to be given to you before you leave for the sept. I wish it had been ready sooner, but you deserve a crown as beautiful as you are.
All my love,
A'
She read the letter through twice before folding it back up, biting her lip all the while to keep back the tears that stung her eyes. Maggie picked up the crown out of the box and placed it carefully on top of Sansa's head, the circlet resting on the braids. She looked up at Maggie and smiled.
"I suppose it's time then."
Sansa found Jon and Bran waiting outside the door and her smile grew wider even as more tears gathered in her eyes. She took Jon's offered arm and they made their way toward the scept, the late morning sun shining off the snow as they crossed the courtyard filled with people. The doors leading into the small scept were open and flanked by guards and guests alike, as was the interior which came to life as she crossed the threshold.
Everyone in the crowded scept stood and turned towards her but the only eyes she felt were Aegon's. He stood tall in shining black armor, the red dragon on his chest the same color as the cloak on his shoulders. She felt her stomach turn with a sudden rush of nerves as Jon led her down the center aisle but they were gone the moment she stepped onto the dias and took Aegon's hand.
The scept fell silent as people took their seats, their attention fixed on the couple before them.
The old man cleared his throat and began. "I welcome you all, in the eyes of the Seven, to this most holy ceremony. Today we come to bear witness to the marriage of King Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name, to her grace Sansa Stark, Queen in the North. The union of these two mighty and noble houses will be the beginning of the end of these tumultuous times, and our greatest hope for a bright future. Now, your highness, you may cloak the bride and bring her under your protection."
Jon stepped up to take the white cloak from Sansa's shoulders while Aegon removed his own. He closed the distance between them and wrapped the cloak around her, his thumbs tracing the edges of her jawline before letting go.
Together they repeated the vows the Scepton said, all the while their hands held tightly together as a red ribbon was wound over and around them. When they were finished they shared a single kiss before the crowd that promptly broke into applause.
The festivities were moved to the Great Hall, which looked quite well given the recent circumstances. There was food served but most of the guests, including herself and Aegon, were too taken up with the music and celebration to pay it much thought. It had been so long since anyone had anything worth celebrating that there was nothing but joy and camaraderie, a rarity for a gathering in the north. Much to Sansa's pleasure Aegon turned out to have more than sufficient dancing skills and the two only stopped to catch their breaths every few songs before returning to the middle of the dance floor.
The noise of the hall was still ringing in her ears when they retired for the night, the pair laughing and whispering as they entered their bedroom for the first time as a married couple. When the door shut behind them she felt a moment's anxiety and reached for his hand, at once feeling calmer. He seemed to sense this sudden shift and squeezed her hand before kissing the top of her head.
"Would you like some tea before bed? The tray should be here shortly. I think after all that dancing that would be the perfect thing to help us sleep."
She looked up at him, unable to hide the small bit of relief she felt.
Developing an odd habit to know exactly what she's thinking, he took her face in both of his hands and looked directly into her eyes. "Do you remember what I swore to you the day I asked for your hand? That our marriage would be on your terms, guided by your comfort. I'm not ignorant of the great trust you've placed in me by becoming my wife, and I would sooner lay down my life than break that trust."
She wrinkled her nose a little as tears stung her eyes, one hand reaching up to squeeze his arm. "There will never be enough words to describe how great of a man you are."
He shook his head. "No. If there's one of us with a measure of greatness, it is you, but I plan to spend every day trying to live up to you. You deserve nothing less."
Completely overwhelmed with emotion Sansa kissed him. It went on for some time until a knock at the door separated them while the tea was brought in and set on a table near the hearth. They sat next to one another in comfortable silence, sipping tea beside the crackling fire. Once they had each finished their second cup Sansa cleared her throat and sat down her cup. Aegon picked up on this cue and sat down his own cup before turning to face her.
"What is it, my love?"
"I, ah, well… I'm not ready, not for that, but… I'd like you to see me, all of me." She'd been staring at her hands up until the last few words in an attempt to hide the assumed redness creeping into her face, but suddenly felt confident enough to meet his gaze. "And if you don't mind, I'd like to see you as well."
This seemed to take him off guard and she relaxed some as he also stammered out his first few words. "That would, I would.. I wouldn't mind that, no, but Sansa… You don't need to do this, you don't need to prove anything."
"I know that." She said, a sense of certainty lifting her up. It was quite the step, yes, but she trusted him enough to take it. "I want to do it."
"Very well." Aegon said, taking one of her hands and kissing the top of it. "Shall we?"
She nodded her head and stood up, pulling him along with her. She stopped near the edge of the bed, one hand having already undone the laces at her waist. Using some care she removed one arm and then another, but held the bodice to her chest for a moment. With one deep breath she let it fall to her waist before stepping out of it. The chemise she wore was cut both low and short, and after wearing it all day it stuck to her skin. Aegon followed her lead and unbuttoned his doublet, pulling it and then his black tunic off. He hadn't touched her but Sansa reached out one hand to create a link between them, her fingers trailing a long scar along sternum.
"I haven't seen this one before…" She said quietly, looking up at him.
He looked down at her hand and then back at her, grinning. "Oh, that. It's a long story, but a good one."
She began to circle him slowly, finding even more scars along his back and arms. There was one particularly gruesome scar along his left shoulder and then down his back to his waist. When her fingers found this scar she felt Aegon tense a little and then relax.
"That one, well, that one's not a very good story."
The tone of his voice made her heart twist into a knot and she pulled her hand back, getting ready to apologize. Before she could get a word out Aegon was facing her, his face showing no hint of discomfort.
"Don't worry, you haven't done anything wrong." He grabbed his left shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "I got this at a time in my life when I was resistant to accepting my responsibilities. Now it serves as a reminder." He let his arm fall while the other rubbed the back of his head, a half smile on his lips. "I'll tell you that story, just maybe not tonight."
She nodded, completely understanding. After all, she had several scars that she would never tell the story of.
Beginning to feel a chill standing there half naked, Sansa wanted nothing more than to be under the furs with Aegon, and preferably sooner rather than later. With gooseflesh spreading over her arms she loosened the tie at the neck of her chemise and pulled it down over her breasts, letting it fall to the floor unceremoniously as Aegon stared at her wordlessly for a long moment before breaking into a soft smile.
"To call you beautiful would be a grievous understatement, but I find myself at a loss for words."
He swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed where he pulled away the furs and laid her down. He moved around the room putting out candles before crawling into bed beside her, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her. They settled into one another he sighed with contentment before saying, "To be married to you… I don't think I've ever been happier in my life… Thank you."
When she woke the next morning she was immediately conscious of the weight of his warm body next to hers, but she turned into instead of away, recognizing it as Aegon even with her sleep fogged mind. As her mind began to wake fully she became aware of where her own body started and stopped, and felt his arm around her midsection holding her tight.
They laid together for sometime, Sansa drifted back and forth between sleep and wakefulness until the needs of her body demanded she rise. The fire had gone out during the night and the chilly air hit her warm body like a wall, sending rows of gooseflesh up and down her limbs. She reached for her dressing gown and wrapped it tightly about herself as she padded over to the hearth and knelt before it. She stuck a fresh handful of kindling into the hearth and reached for the flint, her hand finding Aegon's bare leg instead. He took her hand and pulled her up, a tender look in his eyes as he kissed her once.
"Go on. I'll take care of this."
She left Aegon kneeling naked before the hearth and crossed the room to the privy chamber. Once her more urgent needs had been attended to she took a moment to wash up with a cloth and the basin filled with water. It was cold from sitting out all night but it left her skin feeling clean if a little chilled. Wrapping herself in her robe once more she returned to the bedroom, the smell of fresh burning wood filling her nostrils.
Aegon was still beside the hearth, carefully poking and encouraging the fire as he laid wood on top. "Until I came to Westeros I had never used a fire for heat. We cooked with them of course, but I was never thankful for its heat. It was so hot in Essos that on a good day you could see the heat radiating off of the fire. Here, though… It's different. When we first came to the North I had men who froze to death after their fires had gone out during the night. That your family has managed to thrive here for so long speaks to their strength."
She squeezed his shoulder. "It's not always like this." That much was true. Most of her childhood they had enjoyed fair weather by northern standards. "Bran said the Night King brings the long night and our days just keep getting shorter. If there's any connection between the two then it's only going to get worse the closer he gets. We need to leave and be back again before it gets too bad for travel."
"What if we can't make it back in time?"
The question frightened her and she nearly jumped, her hand twitching slightly where it rested on his shoulder. Aegon reached up and squeezed her hand. She took a deep breath and spoke, feeling remote as she did so. "Then we'll fall back to the Twins and wait for them to come to us." 'After they kill my brothers and all my people.' She thought, her heart twisting with anxiety. "We have to go as soon as possible. The men and supplies are nearly ready and we've received word from White Harbor. We shouldn't linger."
He stood and turned to face her, concern and interest showing plainly on his features. "It was my intention to give you as much time with your family as we could manage."
She reached up and touched his face lightly, the corner of her mouth pulling up. "I know, and I love and appreciate it more than you could know, but what I want can't get in the way of what needs to be done. I will miss my brothers and my home greatly, but I have faith that they'll protect each other until we return."
He kissed her forehead and moved to kiss her lips but there was a sharp knock at the door and they both froze. Maggie's frantic voice could be heard on the other side of the door, speaking far to fast to be understood and they both began to scramble, Aegon locating and extricating articles of clothing while Sansa straightened her hair and robes, reaching the door just as Aegon pulled a shirt over his head.
Sansa stepped out into her sitting room and stopped for half a second, her eyes wide with disbelief. She crossed the room and took her little sister into her arms, tears trailing down her face. "Arya? Oh dear god, Arya. It's really you." She stepped back and held her sister away from her, looking her up and down, smiling despite the look of wary suspicion on Arya's face. "I prayed that you'd come home once word reached you of our victory. Where have you been?"
Arya smirked, shrugging noncommittally. "That's a long story. I was visiting the Twins when the news came down from the North. I should congratulate you, your grace. It seems you've finally gotten that crown you always wanted."
Sansa felt slightly affronted but bit back the reflexive urge to snipe and tilted her head to the side, pleading. "I took back our home from a monster."
"With the help of a Targaryen, the grandson of the man who burned our grandfather alive."
"He saved me Arya, and then he helped save our home and I won't apologize for that. It'ss thanks to him that I have my family back."
Arya seemed to consider this, her eyes carefully examining Sansa's face for any hint of dishonesty, the look so penetrating that it rose the hairs on the back of Sansa's neck. Then the look dissolved into a small smirk and Sansa let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"They say you called down a great fog and led a company of men to defend the rear gate, cutting off the retreat before managing to breach the castle."
She heard a bit of respect in her sister's voice and stood up a little straighter. "I led the attack, yes, though I'm afraid I can't take credit for the fog."
"I didn't believe the rumors at first. The idea of you even learning how to fight seemed ludacris."
"Aegon is training me, as well as Jon-" She stopped, grabbing Arya by the shoulders. "Jon! Have you seen Jon? Or Bran?"
Arya shook her head. "No, well, rather, I've seen them. They haven't seen me."
Sansa tilted her head to the side, confused. "How long have you been here?"
"A few days. I saw you at your wedding feast."
A chill ran down her spine but she tried to ignore the feeling. Despite the line of questioning, Arya seemed to have observed enough of them to have come to her own conclusions. Sansa was thankful that those conclusions were in favor of her and not against.
"They'll be in the dining hall, I'll call for them." Sansa rose and peaked her head out the door, whispering a few words to Maggie before shutting it once again.
When she turned around the chamber door opened and Aegon stepped out, fully dressed and looking mostly regal, but one eyebrow raised ever so slightly as he took in Sansa's tear stained face.
Sansa stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Arya's shoulder, a grin on her face. "This is my sister, Arya."
Aegon's face changed at once, mirroring the joy she felt. He smiled down at Arya and bowed a little. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, my lady, though I wish it were under different circumstances."
Arya nodded, waving her hand flippantly. "The two of you are leaving for Dragonstone." She looked at her sister. "I'm coming with you."
Blinking, Sansa looked at Aegon and then back at her sister. "You just got here, don't you want to stay? Jon and Bran will be here."
"And Jon and Bran can look after each other, but you'll be alone." She looked at Aegon, rather unapologetically. "No offense. Our family members don't tend to survive long outside of Winterfell. I intend to make sure she does."
Aegon almost laughed. "How do you plan on doing that?" The glare he received was enough to chill Sansa's blood and Aegon dropped the humorous look on his face.
"To start, I'm going to save your life." Arya turned to Sansa. "Littlefinger doesn't plan on letting you step foot out of this castle, even if that means poisoning you at the dias. He knows that the only power you have outside of the North lies with Aegon. Eliminate the two of you and the whole realm will be vulnerable."
"And there would be one less person between him and the Iron Throne." Aegon added, looking less surprised than Sansa thought he would be.
"When?" Sansa asked, her eyes subconsciously drifting over to the pitcher of wine that sat on the sideboard.
"Don't worry." Arya said, following her sister's gaze. "He prefers a crowd."
Scenes from the day of Margaery's wedding to Joffrey replayed in Sansa's mind accompanied by the sounds of Cersei and Margaery's screams, horrifying and vivid. She looked at her sister, tilting her head to the side a little, considering. "You've only been back in my life for mere moments yet I must ask this favor. Can you find out exactly when?"
"Definitely."
"Good, as soon as you kno-"
Sansa was cut off mid-sentence by Aegon, whose carefully controlled tone and balled fists set off tiny bells of alarm in her head. "Why does it matter when he planned on doing it? I'll have him arrested now for treason." Before he could move to the door or call for anyone Sansa crossed the distance between them and took his hands in hers.
"It won't be enough. Arrest him now and you risk losing the Vale at the very least."
"Then what do you suggest?"
"We move up your plan."
While they waited for the provisioning of the troops to be completed Sansa and Aegon took their meals in their rooms, all of which had been prepared under the diligent yet inconspicuous eye of Maggie. They had all agreed that the eve of their departure would be the perfect opportunity to host a feast, giving Littlefinger his one and only opportunity to strike. Assured by Arya that she could find out exactly what the poison would be in, they began to set the stage for the death of Petyr Baelish.
The night before the feast arrived and Sansa found herself sitting in Bran's room with Jon and Arya, an undeniable preternatural tension in the air. None of them were quite sure what or who Bran might be but they were beginning to recognize the power he held and Sansa increasingly turned to him for counsel. Even if that counsel was often very cryptic and spoken in metaphors, she often found the answers she sought in it.
"We plan to put Petyr Baelish on trial." Sansa said, her hands crossed and resting in her lap.
"For which of his crimes?" Bran asked, his eyes watching the dancing flames of the hearth next to him.
"The ones that we can prove. He betrayed us all the moment he penned that letter to Bolton, and he's going to try and kill Aegon tomorrow night."
Bran turned his head and met her gaze. "He's the one who betrayed our father in King's Landing." Sansa looked down into her brother's hands and noticed a dagger resting there. "Before that he convinced Lyssa to kill Jon Aryn. He sold you to Roose Bolton. He conspired to kill Joffrey Baratheon, and given the chance he'll kill many more."
Sansa heard a little noise of disgust come out of Arya at the mention of Joffrey and she couldn't help but smile.
Bran held up the dagger, offering it to Arya. "This is the blade that was meant to take my life, the blade our mother stopped with her bare hands. Keep it close."
Arya accepted the blade with a raised eyebrow, but didn't ask any questions.
"Very well." Sansa said, looking at each of her siblings in turn. "We move forward with the plans for tomorrow night.."
She looked at Jon then and saw how pale his face was. Most of this information had been new to her half brother, and she reached out and touched his arm. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about all of this sooner."
"I understand… It's just…" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "How much of what has happened has been because of this one man?"
"Too much." Sansa said, her face falling into a bitter frown.
"He tore our family apart. I think it's time we return the favor." Arya said, standing up and sliding the dagger into her sword belt. "I've got to get going, I have work to do."
Sansa stood as well and bobbed her head to Bran. "Thank you, brother." She followed Arya out of the room, their voices low as they walked the quiet corridor.
"I think I know what he's using, I just need to be sure."
"Do you know who he's using?"
"One of the serving maids he gifted your household."
"Damn." Sansa said, her right hand curled into a fist at her side as she thought. "Is she being forced?"
"She thinks she loves him, and I don't think she knows what he's planning on using her for." Arya rolled her eyes upwards and then looked up at her sister. "Too many people know about her connection to him, once this comes out there'll be no way to protect her."
"Hm… What if we take a page out of Baelish's book?"
"You mean have her taken after she delivers the poison?"
"Yes. Podrick should be able to help, speak with him."
Coming to her chamber door Sansa slowed, nodding her head at the guards and then at Arya, speaking even quieter than before. "If anything happens don't hesitate to wake me."
Without another word they went their own ways, Sansa to her shared rooms with Aegon and Arya to do whatever it was she did around the dark castle.
Unable to find restful sleep next to her husband in bed, Sansa got up and walked over to the hearth, settling down on the fur rug placed before it. Her eyes lazily watched the rapid dancing of the flames in front of her while her mind drifted, thinking of a thousand things and nothing all at the same time. She was immensely worried for Aegon and had been holding her breath during each of his meals, too terrified he would fall over dead to eat much of anything herself.
There was also the nagging fear that Arya wouldn't be able to figure out what Baelish was planning to poison and Aegon would accidentally eat or drink it. She shuddered a little at the idea and pushed it out of her mind which promptly began to replace it with all the reasons Baelish had to die.
All of a sudden she felt a hand on her shoulder and she jumped a little, her hand on her chest.
"Shh, it's only me." Aegon's voice came from somewhere behind her and she relaxed, laughing a little. He sat down behind her and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.
"Did I wake you?" She turned a little so she could see him and leaned into him resting her head on his shoulder.
"No." He smoothed the hair on the top of her head over and over and she closed her eyes, exhaling heavily. "Something is keeping you awake, though. What is it?"
"I worry for you." She answered, smiling ruefully.
"You shouldn't." He said shifting a little so that he could see her face "I know I give you plenty of cause to do so, but you must try not to. You must be prepared for every eventuality, no matter how unpleasant. Even if I die, you, Sansa, must go to Essos. You cannot stay in Westeros."
Sansa stiffened and shook her head. "I don't even want to consider that."
"You must, my love. There are dangers far greater than this on our horizon, any of which could cost either or both of us our lives. We must be prepared." He took one of her hands in his own and brushed his lips along her knuckles. "I don't believe that tomorrow will be the day that I die. I have faith in your sister and I have faith in your plan."
She nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders.
Morning came and they each went about their separate daily activities as though everything was fine, neither giving any sign that anything was amiss. Sansa absentmindedly went about packing her last few things, hoping Arya would find her there before the feast. The hours dragged on and she was forced to dress after putting it off as long as possible, knowing there would be no further excuse for delay.
'A gamble, then.' She thought as she walked down the stairs, her hands slick with sweat as she approached the landing. She thought about asking one of the guards that surrounded her if they had seen her sister, but she knew that Arya was better than that. Just as she was rounding a corner a page approached, his head bowed. She blinked and stepped forward, wary.
"An urgent message from the kitchens, your grace." He handed over a small folded up bit of paper and then turned, disappearing before Sansa had a chance to open it.
The note was short and concise, two simple words. 'The cups.'
Exhaling audibly, Sansa held the note to her chest for a moment, unable to believe the timing. It couldn't have come much later, but it had finally come. With lack of anything else to do with it Sansa shoved the piece of paper down the front of her bodice discreetly, using her cloak to hide her movement. All that remained was telling Aegon and that she could easily handle it.
Sansa found him outside of the hall with a few lords who had come to genuinely like Aegon in the previous weeks, conversing jovially. With the confidence of queen and wife she strode over to the group and laced her arm through Aegon's, smiling pleasantly. "My lords, how good it is to see you all here. I know my father was grateful for your loyalty, and so am I. I trust you are enjoying Winterfell's hospitality?"
"Indeed we are, your grace. Thank you." They all echoed similar responses, smiling and bobbing their heads.
"Might I suggest we enter? The feast is to begin momentarily." Sansa gestured to the groups of people flowing into the hall and as the men turned to go, she kept a firm grasp on Aegon's arm, holding him in place. When most of the people were inside and seated, Sansa leaned up and whispered into his ear, disguising it with a kiss on his cheek. When she stepped back they locked eyes, sharing a look of determination before turning to enter the hall.
A chorus of applause welcomed them into the hall, silence falling when they stood behind the table on the dias. Smiling over the crowd, Aegon cleared his throat.
"I want to thank you all for this most enjoyable farewell. As you all know, myself and her majesty will be disembarking for Dragonstone at dawn. Not only will we be overseeing the completion of the dragonglass mines, but we will be solidifying our alliance with house Tyrell. When we return it will be with more men, more provisions, and a greater chance at victory against our enemies. Jon Snow will be acting as steward in our absence, and his word should be taken as if it were coming from the queen herself." He waved his hand and serving maids began to stream out, their arms laden with dishes and trays. "Now, rather than inundate you with more details, let us eat, drink, and be merry."
Sansa watched over the crowd with a placid exterior, everyone else's attention at once grabbed by the appearance of hot food. Platters and plates were also being deposited onto the table in front of her, but their cups sat empty. She casually looked left towards the serving hall to find a woman around her age carrying a tray with two open bottles on it. She meant to look away and not draw attention, but there was something strange about the way the girl was walking. She tilted her head to the side and began to rise, only for the girl to topple over entirely. The room became silent as people began to take notice of what was happening, a few guards stepping forward, their swords half drawn.
As others began to gather around the girl, Sansa felt a tug on her arm and turned around to find a breathless Arya.
"She… She… Drank it."
Sansa grabbed her sister's arm and pulled her along, carving a path through the group of people. The young woman lay in a puddle of wine and shards of glass, doubled over in pain, unable to do anything but blurt out a few words at a time.
"I… only… took…a sip…" The girl yelled in pain and then looked around the hall, her eyes searching. A fellow serving maid took her hand and tried to comfort her, but her gaze was fixed on someone in the distance. Sansa followed her eye line and found Petyr Baelish at the end of it. He looked more than uncomfortable and was currently being prevented from leaving the hall.
"Petyr…" Came a groan from the floor, one hand outstretched before her entire body went limp. At his naming, many in the hall turned to look at Petyr, who assumed an air of coolness in record time. He opened his mouth to speak but Sansa beat him to it, her voice commanding silence over the mumbling crowd.
"Guards, take him, now."
Men stepped forward to take Petyr's arms, but he thrashed and fought until one of them had to hit him in the stomach to halt his movement. He coughed and looked around and much to Aegon's displeasure, locked onto Sansa at once. "You're mistaken your majesty, I don't know what's going on, I haven't spoken to that girl since I gifted her to you. Please, you must believe me."
"Liar!" Cried one of the serving maids from the floor, the dead girl cradled in her lap. Tears streamed down her face as she glared at Petyr. "I beg pardon, majesty, but this man is a liar. He was with Tilly no less than an hour ago. They've been sneakin' off together since she arrived."
"Sansa, you know me, you know I would never, ever hurt you. You would take the word of a kitchen maid over the lord of the Vale?"
He watched as Sansa looked around at the room of lords and commanders. There were some who glared with unmistakable intensity at Baelish, yet there were others that looked less than convinced. "You would ask us to take your word, lord Baelish? Very well." Sansa continued, but spoke to the room at large. "Lords and ladies, I invite you, any of you, to step forward now in the name of Petyr Baelish. If you can say with a clear and honest heart that you trust the word of this man, step forward."
There was some milling about until someone stepped forward, Podrick. "My queen, I step forward not in favor of lord Baelish, but to lay another charge of treason at his feet." Podrick held up the letter Baelish had written to Ramsay, the broken mockingjay seal visible from a distance. "Lord Baelish sent this before the battle to retake the North. It includes descriptions of the camp, details of the number of men we had, and most damning, a promise to return her majesty to Ramsay after the battle was won." Podrick handed the letter to the man next to him, who immediately read it before passing it to the next.
Arya, seeming to materialize out of the shadows again, stepped forward. "There's no doubt that Baelish supported Roose Bolton, even if you challenge his supporting Ramsay, it begs the question; Is he the one that orchestrated the slaughter at the Twins?"
Cries of traitor and murdered began to go up throughout the hall and Petyr was yelling, pleading for them to believe him. Aegon, who had been silent up until that point, called for the room to be quiet.
"It would seem there are two charges of treason against you, lord Baelish. I feel that the evidence against you speaks to your guilt, but I find myself in a fortunate situation. In this room are men and women who have known you for years. I will let them decide your guilt." There was an uproar of cheers to which Aegon raised his hand, effectively silencing it. "Lords, ladies. Without having the luxury of a formal court, I must impose upon you to act as jury in this matter. The penalty for treason is death, and I will not have it said I came to this decision rashly. So, if there are any of you here who believe that lord Baelish is innocent, step forward now and proclaim his innocence."
There was an awkward moment where a few people looked like they were going to step forward but to their credit no one did.
Aegon let the room hang in silence as the look of fear truly blossomed on Petyr's face, his eyes growing wider by the second. "It is settled, then. I, Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of my Name, sentence you to death, Petyr Baelish."
Arya took two steps forward, drew a dagger from her waist, and in one smooth motion struck Petyr's throat. The cut was clean but deep and blood poured from it instantaneously while Petyr struggled vainly for a few seconds, unable to speak, before slumping forward in the guard's arms.
The entire room fell into an uneasy silence and eyes darted back and forth as they all tried to gauge each other.
A half second later the room erupted into a chorus of 'Long live the King' and respectively, 'Long live the Queen'.
Sansa stepped forward to stand beside Aegon as the cheers came to an end, the faces in the hall all turned towards them.
"Before we took back this castle I made a promise to you all. I promised that cruel and wicked men would rule Westeros no longer. Here before you lies a man whose actions have brought war and tragedy to everyone in the realms. To think that countless men, women, and children died because of the political machinations of one man…" There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd and Aegon continued. "Why should people like Petyr Baelish and Cersei Lannister get to use the rest of us like pawns in their great game? They sew their seeds of discord and the people suffer because of it. Today, we take a step towards restoring the Six Kingdoms and the North to their former glory, towards a Westeros in which we can raise our sons and daughters in peace, safe from the threat of war." Men came forward to collect Tilly's body and Aegon looked down at them, his eyes dark. "I must beg your forgiveness, but out of respect for the dead I believe a feast would be inappropriate. We'll have the food served to your rooms. Should any of you like to speak privately with me, you need only ask. I bid you all a good night."
Turning with Sansa at his side, they descended the dias and entered the small room behind the hall. A fire burned in the hearth, giving the room its warmth and light. He looked to his wife and was rewarded with a warm smile, her hand on his shoulder.
"We did it. I don't know how, but it's over." She said, resting her forehead on his chest. Aegon wrapped his arms around her in reflex, pulling her close.
"Selfish as it was, all I could think when that poor girl collapsed was how all was lost. We stepped very close to the edge today."
"I know…" Her voice was muffled with her face buried in his cloak, making her sound far away from him. "Though, looking back, I wonder now if it would have worked without Tilly unknowingly giving her life." She said, looking up. Her nose brushed along the bottom of his chin and he sighed in contentment. "I'd like to see her buried in the crypt, it's the least we can do for her now."
"I agree. I'll see if she has any family here in the North, if not I'll send gold back to the Vale. Do you know the name of the woman who spoke up for Tilly?"
"Not personally, no. Though I'm certain Arya will. I'll see to it."
He kissed the top of her head and with complete earnestness said, "If I manage to complete this conquest, I'm certain it will have been greatly in part to you."
Later that night Aegon laid next to Sansa in bed, basking in the glow of her beauty. He ran a hand idly through her hair, entranced by the shimmering strands of auburn and cinnamon that sparked between his fingers. Part of him wished they could stay like this always but a larger part knew that they couldn't. The things he had set in motion meant that neither of them would be safe until he sat on the Iron Throne, and even then there was still no guarantee of safety.
They departed Winterfell the next morning, accompanied by no less than four thousand men of Aegon's own men. Yohn Royce accompanied them, leading a small party back to the Vale to retrieve Robin Aryn. There had been some debate about the wisdom of this action, but in the end Yohn had insisted and Aegon, not wanting to push the matter after last night's events, gave in.
Sansa, refusing to ride in a covered litter, rode beside him on a white mare. She was bundled up all the way to her eyebrows, her outline twice its normal size thanks to the number of furs she wore. They marched well into the night and to her credit Sansa made it the entire way, but nearly fell off her horse when it finally came time to dismount. Aegon caught her before she hit the ground, his nose an inch from hers.
Sansa opened her mouth to say something but he kissed her, forestalling her words. While she had been six feet away from him all day the wind had been so strong that conversation had been impossible. The last thing he wanted to do was have an argument.
"Hello." She said, rubbing her cold nose against his.
"Come on, let's sit you down until the tent is ready." He adjusted his grip and then swooped her up into his arms. Sansa relaxed into him at once, sighing with weary relief. He found a tree stump and sat down, holding her until the tent was constructed.
While the weeks it took to reach White Harbor were miserable, Sansa had experienced far worse. The weather changed gradually during their approach, winter fading into autumn. The harbor itself was packed with Aegon's ships and more floated serenely out in the bay, the shadows of their masts given an otherworldly cast by the fog. She swung down off of her horse, her feet landing in mud with a splash. The unmistakable scent of fish and salt wafted through the air and she turned to her sister, an eyebrow raised.
"Something's wrong…" She said, looking back to the quiet town below. "Where is everyone?"
"This is all that's left." Arya answered, joining her sister. "Manderly sided with Bolton and fought Stannis on the field. Many died. The rest died defending Winterfell and Ramsay. Aegon's navy is effectively running the port now and the castle now."
Together they walked into the town, trailed by Brienne and Podrick, both of whom were less than eager to be just walking blindly into the town.
"The inn still seems to be running." Podrick observed. "Shall we go ahead and check the premises?"
Sansa nodded her head. "Please do. We'll wait here for your return." She watched them go and then looked back over her shoulder to where the main body of troops were setting up their tents. Alone with her sister, she spoke freely. "The Admiral says there have been reports of Euron Greyjoy's fleet in the area. The Harbor and the route to Dragonstone are secure, for now."
"Euron Greyjoy?" She asked, disdain mixed with surprise. "He's joined Cersei? Why?"
"One can guess, but we don't know for sure. Either way, this complicates things."
Arya nodded in agreement, turning towards the sea. "This could be an interesting voyage."
"Yes, and I'd rather start it sooner than later." Sansa scanned the surrounding area, trying to locate Aegon. She didn't see him, which meant he was still finalizing details with Jon and the admiral. They planned on staying the night in the harbor town before setting off in the morning but Sansa would have felt better had they made shift to leave immediately. The thought of staying in one place too long seemed almost unbearable considering the challenges they faced.
"Like it or not, we have to rest." Arya's tone made it clear that she would rather start swimming to Dragonstone than wait, but Sansa agreed with the logic.
Brienne and Podrick returned, reporting that the inn was not only safe, but still running. The party of four ventured down to the inn, coming across no one other than soldiers until they stepped inside the cozy inn. She was greeted with jovial respect by the ancient proprietor and his wife, both of them seemingly overjoyed by the prospect of her stay. Sansa thanked them both for their warm welcome and accepted the landlady's offer to show her to her room.
In all honesty, the rooms were nicer than she had expected considering the state of the rest of the small coastal village. Sansa smiled kindly as the woman shuffled around the room, pointing things out before turning to leave.
"Again, if your majesty needs anything, anything at all, just ring and ask. It is truly a blessing to have you under our roof." The wizened woman began to wander off, pulling the door closed slowly behind her. "To have Starks back in Winterfell…"
Sansa shot an uncomfortable glance at her sister, who stood stone faced as ever with one finger to her lips. Arya walked soundlessly over to the door and pressed her ear against it, staring intently into the middle distance as she did. Apparently satisfied, Arya backed away from the door.
"Don't get comfortable. As soon as his majesty is here we're leaving."
Sanas blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?"
With a look that conveyed exactly how little patience Arya held, she continued. "You were right, there's something off about this place and I don't like it. I don't think we should stay here. We'll sleep on one of the hundred ships in the bay."
"Arya, stop, I'll admit that was… More than a little odd, but the woman can barely hear or see, and her husband didn't seem to be in much better states. Besides, who knows what they've seen in the last year, and you heard what she said about losing their son."
"I remember that she didn't care to mention exactly who her son died fighting for…"
Sansa resisted the urge to bite her lip in indecision and instead paced the length of the room, all the while the bright smiling faces of the proprietors pulling at her heart strings. She stopped and faced her sister. "We stay. There is little threat to our person and we'll be eating our own food, so no opportunity there."
"And what if they set the roof alight while we're sleeping?"
"And what if they're actually just two eldery folk trying to enjoy what little they have left?"
Arya rolled her eyes and flopped down in a chair. "Fine, have it your way."
Later that night Sansa was dreaming, and for her it was a rare occurrence to have an actual dream and not a nightmare. She stood under a great flowering tree that seemed to have taken root in the floor of the great hall at Winterfell. The room was filled with people, all of them chattering happily and looking in her direction. Directly around her stood her entire family, each of them smiling contently up at her. Her father stood with his arm around her mother's waist, and that the man behind him also held a woman close, the Stark direwolf embroidered on his vest. She became aware of the fact that all of the people in the hall were her family, stretching back generation after generation.
She smiled, feeling the tears run down her face as she reached up, her finger tips touching the cool metal of the crown that rested on her head. The entire crowd of Starks began to cheer, crying out to the Queen in the North. It was a dream, she knew it was a dream, but even still she could feel the warmth and strength of them all. For a moment she felt as if everything in the world was right, and then realized something was missing. Not something, someone. Aegon. She turned to her right expecting to find him, but found her brother Bran, grown as he was but standing free of his chair. "Sansa, you have to wake up. Now."
With a start Sansa's eyes flew open, her heart racing as her mind processed and the darkness around her began to form into shape. A shiver of terror rolled down her spine, and she laid perfectly still, trying to slow her breathing back down. Without really thinking about what she was doing, Sansa moved her arm under her pillow, her fingers wrapping instinctively around cold steel. She was on her side, facing away from Aegon, who was seemingly fast asleep. She needed to wake him somehow, but she had no idea what was happening and she didn't want to risk being too obvious. She forced her eyes closed, fixing her face to seem as naturally relaxed as possible. Taking care to seem sluggish Sansa rolled over and felt Aegon's breath on her face. Resisting the urge to smile she 'adjusted' herself once more, bringing the dagger down beneath the covers. She opened her eyes again and breathed easy as her eyes met Aegon's, alert. He took the dagger from her hand and smoothly rolled onto his back, the little bit of moonlight shining through the window glinting off his hair.
A moment later something seemed to land on top of them and in the chaos Sansa was pushed from the bed, landing hard on her backside as she hit the floor. She wasn't sure if she began yelling before or after guards rushed into the room, pulling the thrashing mess on the bed apart. By the time enough lanterns were carried in Aegon stood tall above a protesting yet restrained man on the ground.
Still sitting on the floor on the other side of the bed Sansa herself was surrounded by people, namely her sister and Brienne. While Brienne had the guards form a tight circle around Sansa, Ayra was putting a robe around her shoulders and helping her arms through it.
"What... Happened..?" Sansa asked between gasping breaths, feeling almost lightheaded.
"We don't know, we heard you screaming and what sounded like a fight. They're searching for others now."
The circle of men broke apart and Aegon stood above her, his long hair tangled in places but for the most part unharmed. He kneeled before her, took her hand and helped her to stand. He kept his arm firmly around her as he directed their things to be gathered and taken to the ship.
As the guards began to drag the man from the room, he began to kick and scream. "Death! Death to you and your whore! A Targaryen?! The lords of the North roll in their graves! Burn the traitor, burn the whore!"
Sansa felt her entire body recoil and took a step back, feeling at once furious and embarrassed.
Aegon pulled her close to his chest, holding one hand over her head as if he could shield her from the words. "Get him out of here, now."
They stood there waiting for a time, the sounds of the yelling fading and then gone altogether. When it had been silent for over a minute Aegon released her, but Sansa didn't budge. She'd been crying the entire time and felt hesitation in showing her face. Aegon cupped her face with his hand and felt the tears there, to which he responded by dismissing the entire room save Arya.
"Sansa, my love, I need to go see to matters, find out where it stands with the owners. Will you let your sister wait with you in my absence?"
Sansa nodded soundlessly, turning to go stand by the window while Aegon tugged his boots and a shirt. She heard the door close and knew she and Arya were alone, but somehow she couldn't bear to face her just yet.
"Here." Arya said, having quietly approached Sansa from the side. She held a small flask in front of her face, the cap uncorked.
Sansa took it and without discretion down a healthy mouthful. After taking a few deep breaths she sighed, leaning against the window frame. "I thought when I killed Bolton it would make everyone forget. It would seem I was wrong."
"You know that's not how they all feel. You saved them, saved everyone in the North, even after being put through hell. There aren't many people who could have survived what you did. I'm not sure I would have."
Sansa felt struck, entirely surprised by this show of vulnerability from her sister. "I've seen you fight and train since you've been back, I've seen what you can do with that blade."
"That's not the same thing."
"Arya-"
"You've been training yourself now for how long? Tell me, knowing what you know now, how much of a difference would it have made?" Sansa was silent and her sister continued. "You're strong, and even though I hate to say it, I think you might be the smartest person I know. You're doing the right thing."