She'd never been far from her father. Even when he had to be in other parts of the North for whatever reason he was at most a couple of weeks away and if push came to shove, would take multiple horses to get back to Winterfell sooner should either herself or her siblings need it.

But not now.

Her father had travelled back to Winterfell as had Robb, her uncle Brandon, her aunt Barbrey, and the Ryswell children two weeks passed. It was supposed to only be for ten days but there had been a scare when Aemon the Elder tripped badly and injured his leg. Rhaegar ordering the trip be postponed by a couple of days to ensure he was good to travel and the night prior they had been given the all clear. At least she wasn't completely alone. Whilst Arya had struck up a strong friendship with Aerea Caeniar (which given their similar names was proving difficult), Jaehaerys Tarennis who would one day be their cousin by marriage and was following Maela Velaryon around like a puppy with their similar fiery personalities; Sansa had instead tried to ingratiate herself with the Valyrian's.

Haelysanne Mellarys was one of the first she had gotten close with. Initially not even realising she was Valyrian as unlike most she did not have silver or gold hair, instead being a dirty blonde that depending on the light appeared red like her own. This being explained as her mother was her fathers second wife who had died in birthing bed with her so was raised as a full sibling with the other Mellarys'. Then there was Aeressa Velaryon and Vyserya Rhaentheon. Not to mention Daenerys. She'd heard a lot about Aemon's betrothed from the time he had spent in the North, so it wasn't too difficult to befriend her. It was difficult though, as due to the Valyrian's mostly being too tied to one another in blood with their incest, most children were of a similar age per each generation. The only girl of a similar age to her was Helaena Velraenos and she'd mostly been remaining away in a mixture of shame and possible shyness over what had happened.

At least it all seemed to have calmed somewhat, which was good.

To say it had been tense after what had not only happened to Daenerys but then what had happened during the blood vow which would rightfully remove Daeron Dallaeron from succession to Elyria was putting it lightly. She'd been clutching Lady close to her who was trying to run to Nymeria to free her sisters wolf from Maelon's clutches, body being frozen to the spot as she watched both Jacaerys and Daeron fall to the ground and the realisation of what had happened. Then there was her father further adding more fire to an already burning flame.

"Skorkydoso glaesā?" (How are you?)

Sansa turned her head to be faced with Rhaenys who had arrived again that morning alongside Aegon for they were beginning the journey to White Harbour today. There had been a lot of chatter around the Targaryen manse over it and some were rather excited as they had never visited the North before.

"Syyz iksan. Skoriot aōhys valzyyrys issa?" (I am good. Where is your husband?)

That word sounded wrong to her knowing their relation. Just the sheer thought of being betrothed to Robb or Bran made her feel like she could vomit on the spot. But as her father had said, they were Valyrian's, their ways were different, and they had to respect that even if they did not agree with it.

"Aemoso Rhaellā." (With Aemon and Rhaella.)

She nodded as they fell into step with one another. It was odd to speak another tongue so frequently but she had wanted to learn and requested unless it could be helped to converse in High Valyrian only. Understanding they had a unique position with the Freehold that only Dorne had. Many times the other Kingdom's of Westeros tried to ingratiate themselves but had simply been chewed up and spit back out. They had tried to force their ways onto the Valyrian's who were fiercely proud of their roots whereas neither the North nor Dorne had done so. Even if people did call her Andal and Rhaenys Rhoynar. Something which they had bonded with quickly. Meeting with Arya and Bran along the way to the outer courtyard where carriages were awaiting to take them to the northern harbour of Dragonstone.

Dragonstone had two harbours. A southern one and a northern one. The northern one being used for trade between the Summer Kingdom's as they called Westeros, and the southern for anything Freehold or Essos related. Switching back to common as Bran had only just started learning and Arya at best could follow along but not actively converse.

"Are we going on the dragons?!"

Her sister asked excitedly, herself going green at the thought and Rhaenys chuckling fondly.

"No. The only ones that are large enough for more than one rider are Shadow, Dawn, and Rhaelithox. We have more than a few extra guests coming."

This saddened Arya as she pouted her lip out but was caught off guard by Aemon running up to grab her by the waist and flip her upside down like he done with Rhaella often.

"Put me down Aemon!"

He did just that but not without tickling her until she had tears in her eyes first.

"Are you all ready?"

"We are."

He turned to one of the servants and spoke too rapidly in his mother tongue for her to understand as she nodded and left the corridor. They were out in the main courtyard now, spotting eleven carriages of varying sizes considering some of the House's had many more family members than others. Some upwards of a dozen and then there was House Rhaeleris who only had five members total. The journey didn't take too long, less than two hours judging by the way the sun had shifted in the sky. Seeing numerous dragons of many colours flying overhead and creasing her eyebrows a little.

"I thought they weren't coming."

"They are, we're just not riding them there. We are bonded to them and thus they will follow us."

"Yet neither Rhaemon nor Viserys' dragons came."

She asked, confusion setting in.

"They did actually, they're just very young and are kept away from the larger dragons just in case. Especially with what happened between uncle and Lord Freeholder Maelon. Viserys' is citrine yellow and Rhaemon's is sapphire blue."

Her cheeks tinted red at the thought.

"Father was protecting the pack- "

"He was, which is why no punishment was given out. The North and the Freehold may be as a similar as oil and water but there is one thing we have in common and that is we will defend our own fiercely. In a way, it worked out better than intended because oddly House Caeniar are now getting close with House Stark. Something no one ever would've imagined happening."

Sansa knew there was some hidden message in those words but she was not privy to such conversations so what was meant was lost on her.

"Maelon tried to kill Nymeria- "

"Malaelar did, not Maelon. Nymeria saved his daughters life. Because of that he is indebted to us as is Jelaerya and her siblings."

Not much further was said after this as they finally reached the harbour, being helped from the carriage as the step was pretty high up. Whilst she was tall for her age and could reach it no problem, it was for visionary purposes too. Lady following close behind like she were a shadow and walking towards the ship with dark red sails. Not many people were aboard yet but that would soon change. Spotting three people on the opposite side of the deck already in their cups but as neither were stumbling it was clear the casket had only just been cracked open. Frowning a little before recognition dawned on her. Viserys Targaryen, Monford Velaryon, and Jaehaerys Mellarys.

"They seem close to one another."

She mused aloud, looking at them again and seeing them all laughing merrily at something. Likely due to the news from the announcement that Maela Velaryon was carrying hers and Viserys' first babe.

"Aye, they are. When Salaera was heavily pregnant she spent much of it with her cousins in Lys- their Archon was her uncle. Yet they had to sail back to Driftmark for birth rites but were stuck in a violent storm. They shipwrecked which sped up Salaera's labours and if it weren't for Jaehaerys knowing they were travelling through the Stepstones, Monford and Salaera would've died and Maela would never have been born."

And thus Viserys never would've married her. Wondering what would've happened if this were the case. Daenerys hadn't been born yet before Rhaenys and Aegon were sworn in the temple so given that it was highly likely Rhaenys would've wed Viserys instead.

"Yes, by custom Aegon would've been betrothed to Daenerys and myself to Rhaella if that were the case."

Now, her cheeks tinted an even deeper red as she realised she had been rambling that aloud. Looking around in case anyone else heard but if they had they were covering it up well. A steady thudding noise being heard as she spotted a couple of servants and her aunt Lyanna helping Aemon the Elder onto the deck as he was weak already with his age.

"How old is your granduncle exactly?"

Aemon smiled fondly to the man he had been named after. Sansa hadn't spoken to the old man who was often called the Scholar of the manse with his vast knowledge on almost anything, even joking that if he were not Valyrian he would be a Maester.

"One hundred and two name-days."

Her eyes widened comically at that, not expecting him to be that old. Wondering to herself if he was older than Old Nan in Winterfell although no one knew with certainty just how old she was exactly.

"He was almost Lord Freeholder, wasn't he?"

"Aye. He was the third son of Lord Freeholder Maekar and Lady Freeholder Dyanna. His eldest brother Daeron died in… not so honourable ways. His other older brother Aerion believed reading ancient fire magic would somehow make him an expert at it which did not end well."

"In other words the idiot drank wildfire as he got it into his head wildfire and normal fire are the same."

Horror rippled through her at the thought as Viserys walked over now and throwing an arm around Aemon's shoulders and offering him a skin of whatever was in the casket. Her cousin refusing politely before it was passed to her which she took hesitantly and took a timid sip. Gagging immediately at the sharp taste.

"You're not supposed to drink lakoriks alone, uncle."

No wonder it disguised the taste of blood then, as all she could taste was that now and the burning sensation in her throat was intense. Viserys shaking his head and handing her another flagon but Aemon grabbed it to sniff before nodding in approval.

"Valyrian wine, nowhere near as strong."

Anything to get rid of the taste, Sansa thought to herself and enjoying the slow burn this one gave as her tongue now danced with the flavour of the mulberries and gooseberries Valyrian wine was made from. Berries that did not naturally grow in Westeros and only did so in much hotter climates.

"Next time you want to play a trick on my cousins at least warn me first."

"Where would the fun in that be, nephew? Anyway to finish what Aemon was saying Sansa, after Daeron and Aerion died there was a bit of a succession issue. Uncle Aemon was the Captain of Dragonstone and to be a Captain vows must be made that you swear off of becoming a Freeholder of the city your family rules. There was a lot of discourse around it because it would be breaking a sacred oath made in the temple which is frowned upon in our culture. Instead Aemon's little brother became Lord Freeholder."

A few other people were surrounding them now and she recognised some of the faces but not all. Being distracted by a flash of silver and dark brown as Arya and Rhaella were once again racing each other like they did frequently in Winterfell. Except this time there wasn't the risk of tripping over a fur cloak because it was far too warm to wear one on Dragonstone. Seeing her mother walk up and rest a hand on her shoulder to guide her away as she noticed her obvious discomfort.

"We'll be home soon, little wolf."

That they would be. The little time they had spent here Sansa had never felt so lively. Everything was so grand and everything was new to her. Wondering if she talked sweetly to her parents if they would allow her to foster here or in one of the other Valyrian cities. That was unlikely though, for she would flower soon and it wouldn't be long after that her own wedding would be getting planned to Domeric Bolton.

"Home seems so bland in comparison, doesn't it?"

"I wouldn't say bland little wolf, just simple."

Simple. Yes, that explained life in the North pretty well. Rarely did they have any issues.

"I don't want my life to be simple though."

Catelyn chuckled a little before facing her directly. She was already of a height with her mother and her uncle Brandon japed often that if she didn't stop growing she'd soon be known by another name than little wolf or red wolf.

"Sansa, if anyone deserves to not have a simple life it is yourself. However, you must remember you are a Stark of Winterfell and once married will be a Bolton as well. You are a direwolf and as much as you may wish it, wolves do not have wings sweet girl. We as women must do our duty when the time comes. Until the time comes for you though, tell me what you would like and I shall speak to your father."

It was a common conversation between them. Arya did not need to adhere so much to it as she was the second daughter and she was not betrothed yet so did not have that pressure on her yet. A part of Sansa resenting her for such a thing but she couldn't be too mad. At least Domeric treated her well which given some matches that were made was an improvement on the majority.

"Can I come back here after the Northern ceremony?"

Nothing was said to this, her mother instead giving her a brilliant smile before walking away. Only noticing now those in other families had left to head to their own ships as they broke away from the shore. The winds were kind to them, arriving at the easternmost coastline of the Vale of Arryn and a further four days to reach the Three Sisters. Docking on Longsister for a few hours so they could gather some supplies and so everyone could stretch their legs somewhat. Whilst the islands were technically a part of the North, they were closer geographically to the Vale and many Kings of the Vale tried to officially claim dominion over them only to fail in some way or another. The locals didn't consider themselves to be a part of either the North or the Vale, and that's how she herself would've left it. As her father always said though, pride was a beast that if left unchecked will always want for more.

Much to her surprise, when she stepped onto the ship she spotted Baemala and Jelaerya Caeniar there too and not with their own family. Wondering why this was but a part of her assumed it was due to the eldest of the triplets being highly fascinated with the North. Gone was their light clothing for summer cloaks and by the time they would be halfway between the Three Sisters and White Harbour it would be too cold even for that. A part of her almost excited to wear her soft furs again. It took two more days before they were on the coast and turning up into the White Knife and a further day before the White City was visible on the eastern side of the river.

A beautiful city, there was no doubting that. All buildings in the typical northern shape with there being at most three floors with slanted roofs so that when snow storms came and went the remnants would fall straight down into the troughs dug into the wide paved cobbled streets that no one knew for certainty how long they had been there. Once there had stood a castle called Wolf's Den that her ancestor King Jon Stark had built after successfully driving out sea raiders from the coast and claiming the land a part of the North. Whilst Wolf's Den was still there, it was no longer used as a castle and instead a prison and for historical reasons. Then when House Manderly were exiled from the Reach they were granted Wolf's Den and the surrounding lands where they first built a small fishing village but soon recognised they were in a prime location for trade. As they grew richer, so did House Stark, and the richer they got, the more they built.

However, it wasn't a patch on Dragonstone Sansa now knew, but this was her home. Breathing in the crisp winter air and feeling her hair be moved in it which was comforting after weeks in the hot climate of the westernmost outpost of the Freehold. No one had ever decided whether Dragonstone, Driftmark, Claw Isle, or the Stepstones were a part of Westeros or Essos, but maybe that was for good reasons. The Freehold was not Essos as a whole, and it certainly went against a lot of Westerosi values. Docking not long after as they all moved to get off their many ships, seeing dragons of practically every colour flying above in circles like they were playing.

"Kesy aōhon lenton kostas sās, hāedus ñuhus." (This could be your home, my little sister.)

Baemala spoke to Jelaerya, the word confusing Sansa momentarily but putting them to the back of her head. If she did not know what was meant, then it was not something for her to hear. Seeing Robb awaiting them at the entry to the docks as she ran over to him. It hadn't been long at all since he had left with father, but it still felt like a whole lot longer. But he was not alone, seeing the dark hair and gaunt face common with the Bolton's. But other than that, that was all Domeric had inherited from his father, everything else was Lady Bethany Ryswell. Lips pulling apart in a smile at seeing her as he took her hand, brought it to his lips to kiss which made her blush madly, and nodding her way.

"It is good to see you again, my betrothed. It has been three years since we saw one another last."

It had been. Wishing for her son to be more cultured, Bethany had struck a deal with Lord Horton Redfort of the Vale of Arryn for him to squire for them for a bit until he was of an age of majority which she supposed he was now if he were here.

"Who is this?"

He asked, darting his head as she turned to see Jelaerya looking around in wonder at everything. Quickly scanning for Baemala whom she found almost bouncing in excitement on her feet with her daughter.

"This is Jelaerya Caeniar, former Heir Freeholder of Elyria and daughter of Lord Freeholder Maelon of Volantis."

His eyes widened a little in recognition at the name. The reunion being broken up as now everyone was off the ships and having to fight the urge to laugh at those from much warmer climates like the three Dallaeron's that had come, the Vaelaleas', the other Caeniar's, and the Tarennis'. Her uncle had raged when it became known that not all of the Dallaeron's were coming as had both Haeldon and Eraelyra Rhaeleris, but it had not surprised her in the slightest. Saerysa, Rhaemon, and Viserys being the only three to have come. Although it did catch her attention quickly Gael Rhaentheon was here too which considering her husband had refused to budge after what had happened showed her distaste for what had happened. Showing support for what was occurring. Lord Wyman walking over now- well, more hobbling given his massive size- to offer everyone bread and salt which was accepted despite a few raised eyebrows from the Valyrian's at the strange custom. Being escorted with a large retinue up to New Castle nearby and being taken to their own individual quarters. Once left alone, Sansa breathed a sigh of relief before getting ready for that night. There was to be a large feast, then a small tournament which would last until weeks end, and on the next full moon, which was expected in eight days, Aeranor and Wynafryd would wed one another in the Northern custom to make the marriage lawful on both ends much like her parents had also done.

It was no wonder why Lord Wyman was the size he was when the feast was brought out. There had to be at least fifty large plates loaded with everything from venison to boar to auroch. Some coated in a thick wine sauce, some dripping in honey, others roasted to the point she could see just how crispy the skin was. Food as such was scarce in Winterfell because as her aunt had spoken to Aegon when he had queried her strange expression to the raw fish served, it would spoil long before it reached Winterfell itself. White Harbour didn't have that problem though as the area was mountainous and there were forests nearby. Not to mention they were directly on the banks of the river most used for trade in the North.

The first day of the tourney was full of excitement. Many Lord's of the North riding for the celebrations including her far cousins the Flint's. Not a House themselves and instead a Clan but hold a name they did. Her great-grandmother had been a Flint and Arya had even been named after her. She herself was named after her own ancestor who was the granddaughter of King Cregan Stark and Queen Arra Norrey, recalling now her mother had been Jeyne Manderly. Whilst there hadn't been a blood tie between her House and House Manderly since if her facts were correct, they were still incredibly loyal bannermen to her father. Speaking of her father, he was seated beside her in the royal ring looking down at the current joust. It not missing his gaze either who had refused to come but instead of calling the Dallaeron's out on such a thing had simply accepted it.

"Who is competing now, father?"

She strained her eyes to try and make out the sigils but she was simply too far away to see clearly.

"Larence Hornwood and Asher Forrester."

"I thought Asher joined the Company of the Rose."

"He did, but he wished to see Gwyn again."

Understanding dawned on her at that. Asher and Gwyn had absconded with one another behind their fathers backs which had almost turned into a bloody battle between the Whitehill's and Forrester's as they had never liked one another.

"You'd think they would accept it by now."

Her father went quiet at her words which caused her eyebrow to quirk up.

"I have requested a meeting with Lord Gregor and Lord Artimos, I plan on at least attempting to have the two be agreeable. No child of the North should be punished for something so little."

A part of her almost snorted because that was as likely as Arya willingly wearing a dress.

"Where is aunt Lyanna?"

He did not answer her, sitting back in his chair and taking a deep sip of his ale. Realising she wasn't going to get an answer, she turned her head to the grounds where Asher and Larence were charging at one another again. Lances breaking and grabbing another as someone shouted up it was now the sixth tilt meaning it had been going on for a while. This time though, the lance struck true and Larence was knocked from his horse and Asher was declared the winner of the tilt in question. Pausing to get a drink and for the next round of tilts to happen. Noticing a few people surrounding them getting up but Sansa paid them no mind, wholly engrossed in the tourney occurring as they were rarely held in the North. Often seen as a solely southern thing but on big occasions they were held which this was. There had only ever been one other Valyrian and Northern match in known history after all. Wendel Manderly was up next against Meera Reed, wondering how the scrawny Crannogwoman would handle up against the much taller and larger man. Surprisingly, it took two tilts for her lance to strike true and it was hard to fight off her smile at seeing the sour look on Lord Wyman.

"That was quick."

She remarked only for Rhaenys to but in.

"Aren't the Crannogmen of the Neck experts in spears? If so, I don't think it's that surprising cousin. Spears and lances are relatively close as far as weapons go."

That she had not considered but now it had been said she could see how that was the case. Held differently aye, but aiming would be pretty similar. The next names being called but this one catching her attention. Her uncle Benjen and Torrhen Karstark. It had been a long time since she had last seen her youngest uncle, residing mostly in Moat Cailin which he had built up from ruin when her father became King and saw the necessity of the castle in question being at full strength. Never had the Moat been taken from the south but now it could never be taken from the north side either with a new river being dug with the aid of Shadow when the dragon roads were being built in the North which cut all the way through and joined the Green Fork. Effectively cutting off the castle from all sides apart from the south and history had proven such a thing impossible to get through.

A loud yelling surprised her, turning to see her uncle Brandon cheering on Torrhen- likely to annoy his youngest brother. That is, if Benjen could even hear him but it wouldn't surprise her considering the ringing in her ears currently. The two riding hard and fast for one another only for both lances to shatter and grab new ones for the second tilt. And the third tilt, and the fourth tilt. By the seventh tilt Sansa could tell her father was about to call an end to it and declare the two of them evenly matched but on the eight tilt her uncle Benjen finally succeeded in knocking Torrhen from his mount.

"Your brother is good, your Grace."

The thick Valyrian accent sounded strange speaking the common tongue, sounding even stranger in amongst a crowd of rowdy Northerner's with their own gruff accents.

"My brother and sister were the only two of us who did not foster. Our mother taught them both the ways of the horse from a very young age."

Jelaerya hummed a little before looking to her eldest sister even if it was minutes between them. Baemala was the eldest of the triplets, Visenya being the second eldest, and Jelaerya being the youngest of them. Her sons sitting on either side of her and Aerea between her mother and father. Where Visenya and the other Caeniar's were though Sansa could not say, but she had seen them enter so they were in the crowd somewhere. It was as if she had blinked and it was the final tilt and wondering who this would be. Eyes widening in shock at seeing her aunt ride in with her long black hair braided tightly to keep it from obscuring her vision, noticing Rhaegar and Elia both smiling wide at her as her opponent came forward. Not a name she herself had heard of so likely a sellsword or someone looking to make a name for themselves. Two tilts it took before her aunts lance struck true and she was riding around the ring to numerous cheers from everyone in attendance for such a thing.

The next day was solely focused on archery which wasn't something that interested Sansa much but she did have to appear to enjoy it. Lasting for nearing six hours before there was another feast. The third day was the melee which had Aemon, Robb, Aegon, and Bran bouncing in their seats at the action and speaking rapidly with one another in terms she did not understand as she did not know how to use a sword. This was followed by knife throwing which Arya was in awe at the sheer precision. On the fourth day the twenty finalists from the first day began to compete with one another. Wondering what would happen if her aunt and uncle would be paired up with one another. Alas, this did not happen as Benjen was knocked off his horse on the fifth tilt against Smalljon Umber who lasted right until the third last tilt where he lost to Torrhen Karstark. Now, it was her aunt against the Smalljon and to no ones surprise she failed with this but took it with grace and humbly accepted defeat before stepping to the side to watch the remaining.

By the end of the day, Smalljon Umber stood victorious and riding towards her father to receive gratification and for any request he made to be granted were it within reason. Theon Greyjoy being declared the victor of the archery bout, and her cousin Cregan victor of the melee. It took a further three days to arrange everything for the wedding and the closer it got the busier it got within New Castle. Lord Wyman was happily showing off his wealth as if it were seen as a way to further impress the Rhaeleris' considering they were the richest Valyrian House. Not surprising considering their speciality was goldwork as there were mines aplenty in the north west of Essos where Braavos lay. Soon though, the day came. Waiting until the sun was completely down and the full moon was in perfect view above them, being cut out on occasion from a dragon flying above considering they were roaming freely. All gathering in the Godswood and seeing Aeranor standing awkwardly by the Heart Tree awaiting his bride. The bright green cloak he wore of his House standing out almost comically. Wynafryd entering now with her father guiding her in. Wearing a beautiful gown of white which blended in perfectly with the snow on the ground.

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?"

Haeldon spoke, noticing he was toying with his fingers probably out of nerves for messing up. In comparison to Valyrian weddings Northern ceremonies were incredibly simple.

"Wynafryd of the House's Manderly and Woolfield comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn a noble, and she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"

Lord Wylis replied back towards Haeldon and looking at the man who technically already was his goodson but this would further solidify such a thing. Aeranor gulping and taking a couple steps forward.

"Aeranor of House Rhaeleris. Heir Freeholder of Braavos. Who gives her?"

"Wylis of House Manderly, father of the bride and son of Lord Wyman Manderly of New Castle."

Sansa took a deep breath then and waiting on who would be the one to speak up first.

"Lady Wynafryd, will you take this man?"

She bit the inside of her cheek at the slip up. As her mother was still alive she was not a Lady yet but no one seemed to pay any mind to such a thing. Being understanding that this had only happened once before in history and that had been seventeen years prior.

"I take this man."

The snow started again then, flakes landing on both Aeranor's and Wynafryd's faces which caused the two to laugh before the marriage was sealed with a kiss. Somewhere nearby, a dragon roared aloud.

For reference, lakoriks is based on 'Spirytus Rektyfikowany' which from experience is bloody horrific. Don't recommend unless you want a hangover that'll last minimum three days.