authorsnotes: a new player (maybe?) appears...

do enjoy

songrecs: midnight rain - taylor swift (yes I'm still completely obsessed with midnights)

Dinner was at least on his end, tense.

It shouldn't have been. He should have been laughing with his wife and her family, trading stories, getting into his Goodmothers good graces. It should have been happy.

Should have been.

He was at least glad for Sansa that it was. She was grinning wider than he'd ever seen. The Tyrell's had been given a place of honour at the top table with the Starks, Sansa sat closest to them, next to her Mother who was fussing over her, indulgent and so happy to have her daughter home. Robb was sat next to his Mother, determined his family should have all of Sansa's attention.

For the first time Willas worried he might have made a mistake.

Worried because Willas rarely if ever made mistakes. Mistakes were costly, mistakes limited the actions he and his family could take, mistakes had seen the downfall of many a House in the past and the ruin of others.

He did not intend for House Tyrell to follow the same fate.

And yet, he couldn't help but feel bringing Sansa here had been a mistake.

Because though a large part of him was happy to see his wife happy, truly happy, grinning from ear to ear and not liable to stop anytime soon, another part of him; the more ruthless part, the part that had seen House Tyrell succeed further under his defacto rule, the part of him that intended to see it climb to greater heights, felt he had made a mistake.

Because regardless of her smiles she was not Sansa Stark anymore.

He had said as much hadn't he, remembered the words when he'd agreed to bring Sansa's, for his better judgement, against his Grandmothers;

''You can come, you can see your family, but make no mistake, you'll be coming home with me'

He had let it be known, loud and clear she would be returning with him to Highgarden, that was her home now, with him. Even looking past the emotion of it all, the emotion that Willas felt that he likely did love his Lady Wife but couldn't confront that yet, he had to see past any emotional fripperies and look the picture plain in the face.

Sansa would be coming back to Highgarden with him, she had to, she was too valuable to give back to the North, Robb Stark was King now, Sansa a Princess of the North, and if it were up to the Tyrells, she'd be Princess of all the Kingdoms with her brother on the Iron Throne, regardless of his feelings he couldn't give her back.

He couldn't.

He wouldn't.

And that would mean not just pissing off the King they were throwing their lot in with and potentially souring any alliance before it began, it would also mean hurting Sansa. He glanced at her again, she was fucking beaming, and he'd be the one to break that, to ruin it.

He'd still do it, he knew he loved her, even if he hadn't yet thought on it to himself, far too invested already to admit it in full, and the consequences of it, but he did, but family came first.

Sansa was a part of that family now, true, but the Tyrells came first, their ambition. She wouldn't like it, but it was how it was for him, how he'd been raised, it was who he was at the core.

He'd have to break her heart for his family, even now she was apart of it.

"Willas did you hear that story?" She said, his wife giggling as she interrupted his musings. She took his hand, and he offered a quick smile, still his expression betrayed nothing, he was a Southerner among Northerners, they wouldn't read him. "About when Arya threw lemon curd at the cooks head, and he chased her around the dining hall?" She was pink cheeked, and his smile widened.

He did love her, but he was who he was.

It wouldn't change.

He wouldn't change.

"Well, I remember when Loras refused to eat his broccoli, stuffed it down his trousers and his maid up and quit!" Margaery replied, always better at the silly courtesies than him, he knew how to play them yes, but they tired him, and his mind was too busy to do them now, he did laugh as Margaery spoke, weaving an elaborate tale, the whole table laughing, even Robb Stark, those his eyes were as guarded as Willas'.

Not a worthy opponent when it came to spy-mastering or quick diplomacy, but Willas remembered lessons from his Grandmother; Northerners were different, honourable to a fault, honest, not trusting of outsiders but they weren't fools, they controlled the biggest Kingdom and Robb Stark was currently beating the Lannister's at war.

He could not underestimate him, if he tried, he knew it would be in peril.

"Remember when Jon hid in the crypts covered in flour?" Sansa chimed in next, "Jumped out and pretended to be a ghost? I screamed and ran but Arya jumped up and hit him in the face!" Again the table roared with laughter, though Lady Starks expression soured, Willas knew she disliked her husbands bastard, but there was something more to it there.

"She didn't quite hit my face actually" A voice he didn't recognise punctured the laughter, and as he turned to look, he heard Sansa shriek, Robb dropped his composed expression and grinned from ear-to-ear and Lady Stark somehow looked angrier even still. Before he turned it wasn't hard to guess what had happened.

Another family member come home, making things even that much more difficult.

"Jon!" A screech left Sansa's lips, and then brother and sister were barrelling towards their half-brother, not that they seemed to care about the half part, nor did Jon Snow as he swept Sansa into his arms, kissed her forehead and then threw his arms around Robb and clapped his back. He looked weary but quietly happy, and Willas was surprised to see Lord Starks bastard boy looked more like him than any of the legitimate ones.

He stole a glance at Lady Stark who had left the table but not for Jon Snow, no happy reunion there, but rather for the back of the room, yes, she likely hated how Jon Snow looked too, a constant reminder of her husbands infidelity that looked more Stark like than her own children.

It probably didn't help that a great cheer had bounced around the room, Northerners had roared as Sansa had been sent around the room to greet all of the men and women she had known as a child, but they cheered again here, for Jon Snow, he had been among them after all, blood mattered here far more than names.

Willas had never thought much on the subject, of Jon Snow and what he meant to the game, he'd studied the Stark family as much as he could in preparation for this trip, read the histories, asked Sansa questions, had exchanged information with the Highgarden Maester who had trained with and kept in touch with the Winterfell Maester Luwin, but had not thought to ask too much about Jon Snow, hidden at the Wall; foolish of him, clearly he was closer than he'd thought.

And clearly he meant more than just being a bastard underfoot that would fade into nothing at the Wall, he was here, and he looked like a warrior and was gripping Sansa and the King close.

Another wrench in his plans, prying Sansa away from the Stark pack (he knew they called one another that, sweet but difficult for him), would be harder than he thought.

He did not want to be facing down angry wolves.

And yet, as he looked up at his wife, tears shining on her cheeks again, her smile threatening to burst, and the King, laughing, their brother too, all three in a loose triangle, he knew he would be.

What did the Starks say? Hadn't Sansa said it to him once?

The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives…

He grimaced, this would not be easy.

But it would be necessary.

An hour later and Sansa was alone with her two brothers. Yes two, because a hurried but sincere apology to Jon and his crushing arms around her had reconciled them; there weren't many Starks left, they had to stay together, past snobbery and brooding forgotten, in the face of being together again, the importance of it.

The pack.

Said pack was currently hiding away in Robbs temporary solar, she had said goodbye to Willas, Robb had insisted they meet just the family, and she hadn't thought to protest, Northerners were untrusting, she could talk to Willas about the meeting later, she knew inviting him along would have been impossible.

And as much as she loved Willas she wanted some time alone with her family, just the Starks.

Funny, she still saw herself that way more often than not; a Stark.

Though her Mother wasn't present, ever blinded by her hatred of Jon, Sansa would see her later, but no longer shared her Mothers views. Kin was kin, she knew that now more than ever.

"Tell me more of what you said in the letter Jon" Robb said as the three of them sat around Robbs desk, there were no Kings or Ladies of Highgarden or men of the Nightswatch here, just three siblings, delighted to be back together.

Not that it was without its clouds or its questions.

"What letter?" Sansa asked, her nose wrinkling; she hated being out of the loop, it was a dangerous thing in the South to be uninformed.

She felt a sad pang in her stomach, even here in the North she was the Southern version of herself; or perhaps that was just who she was now.

"I come from the Wall for a reason, an important one" Jon said, clasping his hands, a serious expression overtaking his face, Sansa could see the burdens he carried heavy on his shoulders, Robb carried it too. Sansa carried something too, though not burdens, just her past experiences.

"Wildlings are coming for us" He said, and Sansa's eyes widened but she didn't interrupt, Rob went to but Jon held up a hand and carried on, "Thousands of them, united by one cause, they stand at the Wall, and are coming, we can't hope to hold them off" He said, silence fell for just a second, she went to speak, and Robb, but Jon halted them again.

"There is more" He paused then, tension permeating the room, Jon looked troubled, and the burden on his shoulders seemed then the hardest to bear.

"Tell us Jon" Sansa whispered, she wasn't sure why but she did, Robb nodded, and that seemed to give Jon the strength to carry on.

"Dead men" He said with a sigh, running a hand raggedly through his hair, "The Others walk on the Wall, I know it sounds insane, but I've seen them" He held up his left hand, marred with a harsh burn scar, "I've killed one of them, a wight that reanimated at Castle Black, they are real"

Silence once more but no one tried to break it.

Sansa felt as though her blood might freeze, she immediately wanted to deny it but Jon was no liar, he was like their Father in that regard, as honest as Robb, and Robb was more honest than most. He would not make this up, not with Robb looking down a war of his own, no, and there was that look in his eye, of fear, of worry but of knowing, Sansa could see it clear as day, and it couldn't be faked or a consequence of anything but what he had seen.

"Gods" She said, breathing out her disbelief, her worry, and anxiety seemed to lick up into her veins, like flames rising to her neck. She thought of the South, of Cersei, Joffrey, of her husbands-families schemes, Dorne still seething, the Riverlands in disarray, the Vale turning their back on family, the petty squabbles of the South.

As that was it wasn't it? Petty, compared to this, compared to death at the Wall. It was nothing.

"Winter is coming" Robb said his voice grave and he sounded more like their Father than Sansa could ever remember, Jon nodded, Sansa too; their houses words, and always true.

Winter is coming.

"The wildlings, are they fleeing to escape the Others?" Robb asked and Jon sighed, ahh even the Wall had its politics, Sansa wasn't sure if that was worrying or reassuring.

She had learned politics, had taken them in and stored every lesson given to her by Cersei, Littlefinger, Olenna, Margaery, Willas, Tyrion, Shae all of them, but she was no master, learning yes and finding her place in gathering information, in knowing and being informed, but she was no expert, not yet perhaps one day.

But even then, she couldn't comprehend; how did you negotiate with wildlings?

And even she knew you couldn't negotiate with the dead.

"Aye" Jon said, "I've thought about it, get them to cross the Wall, settle in the gift, stop any more wildlings becoming wights" He shook his head again as Sansa felt a stab of panic; of course, every dead wildling would become part of the army of the dead, she gulped down her tension, she was stronger than this now, Southern attributes yes but she was Northern, she'd sit strong.

"But," Sansa asked, as she could sense there was one, which was fairly easy to guess, "The Watch won't let them pass?"

"I would if I had the power" Jon said and frowned then, she near laughed at that, the Starks had the opposite reactions when it came to power as the Southerners, they didn't hunger for it, never had, "But its not up to me and there is too much bad blood, on both sides"

"But I could make it happen?" Robb asked, eyebrow raised.

"No" Sansa interjected, she knew politics here, "It will have to be from the Lord Commander right?" She asked, eyebrow raised, "The Watch have their own, even if they are closer to the North and depend on our aid, they won't want us meddling with their internal politics" Jon nodded, "Who is it at the moment?"

"There isn't one" Jon said, "Lord Commander Mormont is dead and Ser Allister and a council rules in his place, there'll be an election soon, and Ser Allister will win, he'd never sanction this"

"Then you need to win it" Sansa interjected immediately, perhaps some of the Southern power-grabbing had rubbed off on her, or perhaps she was the only one who could see what needed to happen, what had to happen.

"Sansa I…" Jon began, looking both flattered she'd suggested it and moderately horrified at the idea.

"No" Robb said then, shaking his head, stepping in, eminating authority, "Jon, I was going to call you down from the Wall anyway" He paused then, but they listened, he seemed serious, he seemed like a King, "I need you to renounce your vows, I'll pardon you, as King I can release you from your vows"

And there the King was.

Sansa's eyes widened then; yes, Robb was right it could be done but it rarely was, like releasing a member of the Kingsguard, or somehow a Silent Sister turning her back on religion. It could be done but it wasn't.

Especially not by the Starks; when was the last time the Starks had turned their back on a vow?

She couldn't remember such a time, it was not their way.

"Robb no" Sansa said, standing then, her hands screwed into fists, needless to say she felt overwhelmed with the conversation, she was less used to this, speaking so plainly, it was different in the South, conversations like this took place over weeks of subterfuge and scheming, not in minutes of brutal honesty, it was refreshing but an adjustment. "Jon is a Stark he can't abandon his vows"

"Yes" Robb said, and he stood too, there was weight to his words, "And I mean to make him one, officially" He turned to Jon then who looked shocked, weary, horrified, scared, hopeful, everything all at once, "Jon, I plan to name you my heir, and I need you here brother, I'm winning the battles but losing this war, I need you as my second in command, I need your guidance and your loyalty, and I need an heir in case I fall"

"Robb no-" Jon began, glancing at her.

"No" Robb said, shook his head, he turned to Sansa then with a sad smile and she nodded, he wasn't asking her permission for what he had to do but her approval, which he had, without question here, "It has to be you"

What Robb was saying made immediate sense to her, he had no heir, Bran and Rickon were dead, and currently Winterfell would fall to her and thus Willas, she wasn't offended to know that could never happen, had nodded because it could never happen.

"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell" She said, plainly, clearly, with gravitas in her voice, and the knowing; she was no longer a Stark.

The pang she felt for her maiden name, to be Sansa Stark again, had never been stronger.

Even if she loved Willas, it was hard parting from it, from this, from never being the Stark in Winterfell again.

Robb nodded, turned to Jon, held out an arm, "Accept, accept this, stand by my side, I will unite and protect the North, and then come further North, and we will negotiate a wildling crossing, you will as my Hand negotiate it, and then we will stop the dead, stop the South and be independent, once and for all. It was the dragons we bowed to, and they are gone, we won't be"

A rush of adrenaline shot through her as she moved, movedto stand between Robb and Jon, as Robb held out a hand, and agonisingly, slowly, with just a second, not hesitation, not doubt, but weight …

Jon clasped back.

And the game changed.

Or it would further, even further than before as they heard a knock on the door from the squire, it seemed ill timed then, but in hindsight it wasn't.

"Who is it?" Robb called, their hands remained clasped, and Sansa placed one of hers ontop of them, they both smiled at her; the pack survives, before the person beyond the door called out.

"Lord Howland Reed of Greywater Watch, your Grace"

The game exploded.

bammmmmmmmmmmmm

more drama incoming

still robb/margaery dw, and I've worked out jons pairing too (he'll be a MAJOR part of this, but not in the way you think, or maybe you do know - guess in the reviews!)

speak soon