This is a really short chapter because it finishes the first part of the story.
The thirteen year old Sansa had imagined her wedding to a prince. A large romantic affair with hundreds of guests and a handsome prince. Admittedly she got her prince, and objectively he was handsome, although he would grow more so over time. The wedding itself would have been the biggest let down of all. For the twenty year old Sansa, it was better than she could have ever imagined. The prince she was marrying would go on to become heroic and handsome (even if it would take time to get used to him not being her half-brother). However the wedding itself was the best part. She had her family with her, and that was the most important factor. The setting was beautiful, the red leaves from the weirwood were carpeting the floor red, the torchlights throwing just enough light to make it seem eerily beautiful. Now, for the third, and hopefully final time, she was married to a man who she knew was good and kind; strong and brave, who would die for her and never intentionally hurt her. Unfortunately he was currently in love with another woman, but not every marriage could be perfect, and the said woman would be out of reach for some years. Hopefully by then, Jon and Sansa would have solidified their marriage and maybe even have a babe or two, that was if Jon wanted to continue with the marriage.
After they'd finished their meeting, Sansa and Arya retired to Sansa's room, for Sansa wanted to talk.
"What?" Arya asked.
"Do you think Jon will be faithful?" Sansa asked.
"You know him better than I do. What do you think?"
Sansa sighed. "He broke his vows of celibacy to the Watch with a wildling girl called Ygritte. I know he loved...her, but I always got the impression Ygritte was his true love. He's going north of the wall, and she'll be there."
"Oh." Arya frowned. "Do you want me to threaten to chop his cock off?" she said light-heartedly.
"No." Sansa shook her head. "That won't help matters."
"You intend to fuck him don't you?" Arya raised an eyebrow.
"Well, if we feel we can when he returns, I suppose it is the only way." Sansa shrugged. "He's a better prospect than Tyrion. And we will need heirs." she sighed. "Him going north means he's going to need help when he gets back."
"What help?" Arya asked.
"He'll come across as a fool in Kings Landing if he's been spending too much time with the Freefolk." Sansa pinched her nose. "If he's going to be King, he needs to look like a King, and not the King in the North."
Arya suddenly came out with a loud belly laugh. "Seven hells Sansa, are you trying to force Jon into wearing fancy silks, dressing him like Joffrey? He'd prefer having my offer of cutting his cock off. Just threaten outrageous designs and you'll have him under control."
"It is lucky his house colours are red and black." Sansa smirked. "I'll order plenty of material, mother can help me with the sewing. He's got to look like a northern Targaryen King. A real northern dragon."
"Don't forget the wolf part."
"He'll always be a wolf to us and the north. But he needs to be a dragon for the rest of Westeros. This is going to be a balancing act." Sansa sighed.
"What do you plan on doing about Daenerys?" Arya asked.
"I'm hoping Jon can take the Iron Throne before she gets too many ideas into her head about her birthright." Sansa said, hopeful she was right. She walked over to a pile of eight books.
"What in the seven hells are they?" Arya asked.
"While Jon was looking up the whitewalker and dragon lore in the library, I asked Septon Chayle for books on courtly etiquette. I told him it was for the King's arrival. Of course, mother and father have no need for it, neither would Robb. Jon, on the other hand isn't overly familiar with southron rules.'' She looked Arya up and down. "It might help you to look too."
Arya rolled her eyes. "Why would I need etiquette training? I already know how to be a Lady, I just don't want to be one."
"I thought it might be useful should you wish to tick any names from your list." Sansa smirked. "I'm not Jon. He's too honourable to consider you starting your list early, I on the other hand, have no such reservations. But if any of them are at court, you will need to blend in. These are the books every Lord and Lady at court is raised with." She picked the eight books and put them into her chest, which was almost full.
"Are you going to give Tormund some of these lessons?" Arya smirked.
Sansa knew it was a jape. "I wish." she laughed. "Could you imagine him walking into Kings Landing, wearing silks and using perfect court etiquette. It would show those southron idiots what fools they are."
"Once upon a time you thought they were everything." Arya reminded her.
"At least I had the excuse of being a child. Now I know there are more things in life, but knowing courtly etiquette is like wearing a suite of armour." Sansa told her. "A necessary one." she sighed.
Arya looked at Sansa sadly. "You'll make him into a King fit for the south. I need to go, get some sleep before I try not to kill my brother. And make sure Needle still feels like Needle." She grinned, and with that she left.
Sansa had declined to mention that she'd also taken some books on poison, a skill she was desperately willing to learn as it could prove useful in the future. In her last life, Sansa had blood on her hands, although she had let other people do her dirty work. Now she was going to train to be more like her father, she who passes the sentence must swing the sword. Sansa was not going to be the powerless little dove this time. She wanted to wield every weapon that was within her physical capabilities.
The next morning, Sansa stood with her mother and father and Jon in the Godswood, ready to watch Robb and Arya fight. Sansa had seen Arya spar with Brienne and others many times, she recognised her catlike posture, while Robb looked quite baffled by it.
"Stick him with the pointy end." Jon japed.
"I know which end to use." Arya rolled her eyes as she and Robb walked around in circles for a few moments before Robb eventually lunged, Arya cocking her head at a frightening speed.
"Tell them to stop Ned." Cat clutched at her chest.
"There's always Bran and Rickon, should anything happen to Robb, mother." Sansa assured her, even though she was jesting. It was hard to make such a terrible jape as Robb had died in their previous life, but it was already obvious he wouldn't go down that path, therefore Sansa felt a bit easier saying it.
Her mother looked at her aghast. "Sansa, how could you say such a thing?"
Sansa looked to her mother. "Your youngest daughter is a faceless assassin. Robb would be dead now if she was actually trying. She's playing with him."
Cat looked at her in confusion. "She can't have actually killed anyone though."
"If it is any consolation mother, they're alive again." Arya stated, making it known that she was listening to their conversation without it completely distracting her. "But I've killed a lot of people." Arya suddenly moved under Robb's blade, rolled and kicked his legs out from underneath him. He fell backwards and the tip of Needle was at his throat. "I thought I'd give you a chance." she smirked before sheathing Needle into her belt. Arya held out her hand to her older brother who was red with embarrassment at being beaten by an eleven year old girl.
"Just imagine a faceless assassin has stolen Arya's face. It is less embarrassing that way." Jon advised. "Congratulations, you survived a faceless assassin." he slapped him on the back.
"If she really is one of them, you've just had a very narrow escape." Ned looked at Arya with some trepidation. "I've got no reason to not believe her." he shook his head.
"I know what you're thinking father." Sansa chuckled. "Don't be ashamed, be proud of her. Not many can survive the training she endured. To the outside world, she is training to be my handmaiden, or Lady in waiting. In truth she's my Queensguard, I couldn't have better protection."
"I was actually wondering how I managed to raise such murderous children." Ned said sadly.
"It is called life, Lord Stark, that and survival. You didn't raise murderers, you raised survivors." Jon corrected him.
"Aye, I suppose you're right." Ned nodded.
Sansa climbed up onto the wagon to which they would be riding to the gift. They needed to take too many things with them for just horses, and Sansa wasn't the best rider. They were setting off earlier than the soldiers who would be joining them as they wanted a head start and time alone to plot, plan and train. Robb, would accompany uncle Benjen and Tyrion Lannister, should the imp decide to visit Castle Black, then Jon would go north to the wall, while Robb would stay with Sansa and Arya. This time they would get to spend together of just over two moons would be their last chance to be their real selves before their worlds changed.
Once Jon returned, it was expected to be a while after King Robert and in all likelihood, Renly Baratheon's death. Without Robb involved in the war, Stannis would struggle against the Lannister's, who would be able to throw their entire army at him. Sansa was working on arranging a marriage between Robb and Margaery; hopefully before she was betrothed to Renly. As long as Theon was kept in either Winterfell or sent to help at Queenscrown, then the Ironborn wouldn't take hold of Winterfell. Sansa had hoped that when Jon returned, what had been dubbed the war of the five kings, would be over after only being the war of the three kings, even if one didn't take part.
Arya was mounted on her horse and they both waited for Jon to say his last goodbyes, which still reminded Sansa of the last time they left, albeit with different people and different circumstances. They watched as Jon said goodbye to Robb.
"You've said goodbye to Bran and Rickon?" Robb asked. "We won't let Bran fall, I promise."
"Aye, I have." Jon nodded.
"My mother?" Robb looked warily.
Jon smiled. "She was very kind. She even gave me a hug."
"Good. Are we allowed to hug a King?" Robb smiled.
"Aye. Some are." Jon laughed.
"Next time I see you, you'll be setting off for Castle Black." Robb sighed.
"I was always destined to go that way." Jon smiled sadly.
"Take care of my sisters." Robb warned.
"Of course I will. One is my wife and the other is my sister. I'll try and protect them from each other." he tried to jape, but it was hard to say goodbye again.
"Farewell, Snow...Dragon." he whispered the last part.
Jon wrapped his arms around Robb. "And you, Stark." he added, turning to Lord Stark.
"I can't believe I'm saying goodbye this way." Lord Stark smiled sadly. "I feel like I've lost a daughter and a son."
"I know you're not my sire. But you'll always be my father." Jon assured him.
"Don't forget, you are a Stark. You might not have my name, but you have my blood. And the next time we see each other, we'll talk properly about your mother. I promise." Lord Stark wrapped Jon in his arms. "Now get on with yer. Go look after my girls."
"I will, I promise." Jon pulled away and nodded. He turned to where Ghost was sniffing through some hay. "Ghost, with me." he called as the small white direwolf ran towards Jon and the other two direwolves, which were already smaller than him. Jon climbed up onto the wagon and took the reins and shook them. The four horses began to pull the wagon while Arya followed alongside them on her horse. Sansa looked back and took one last look at Winterfell, hoping it would still be the same when they returned to rally the north and take the Iron Throne for Jon.