Sansa Stark

Kings Landing, 299AC

Four months did not seem like much time at all. But one thing was for certain; the amount of stuff that had happened in the last four months made Sansa's head spin in every possible direction. That was how long it had been since they had left Winterfell to come to Kings Landing. It was a place she had been incredibly excited to come to, hearing all the songs and all the tales and just thinking of all the gallant Knight's walking through the streets making her heart soar. She was a young child, only thirteen name-days of age and had yet to have her first ever moonblood. A day she couldn't wait to come as that meant she would finally be deemed old enough to marry her betrothed.

Joffrey was everything she and Jeyne gossiped over since they were around seven name-days of age. Tall, handsome, beautiful smile, sparkling eyes, and a high-ranking title to go with it. A title only four people held in Westeros. Himself, his younger brother Tommen, and the Dornish Prince's- but she didn't consider the latter as such. The thought of a Prince being the highest position one could hold was foreign to her, every book and song said that King was the highest position a person could hold- a position that only his father Robert held. The King- left little to be desired. When he first walked through the gates at Winterfell, she'd expected a tall a muscly male to come galloping in with his famous war hammer strapped to his back. Instead she was met with a drunk who gave no regard to his Queen.

It disgusted her, because a man was always meant to treat a Lady with respect- Septa Mordane said so. It was well known that if a Lady obeyed and loved her husband, her husband would treat her the same way back. Yet seeing that blatant display set her stomach turning uncomfortably, especially seeing the uninterested look on the Queen's face- clearly used to such shenanigans to not react to it. The city was everything she had dreamed it would be. White and cream houses lining the streets with multicoloured roofs, Knight's riding through the streets proudly wearing the crests of the Houses they belonged to, vendors on the streets selling an array of materials and food.

But the smell.

Sansa had managed to keep her face still until she was in the bedroom she'd chosen in the tower of the Hand, on the floor two below where her father was staying- and then she had promptly ran to her chamber pot and retched in a very unladylike manner. Her mother would be furious if she saw her act like this, but she was alone, nobody was there to watch over her. It took her three days to get used to the lingering smell of shit and piss, but it was still on her mind to this day. Today, Joffrey had invited to give her an official tour around the entire city. She'd seen parts of it but not much- and excited was putting it lightly. She was going to get to spend the entire day with her golden Prince!

She hadn't seen Arya that morning, nor had she seen her any morning over the past month. She was always up seemingly before the sun rose over the Blackwater to go to dancing lessons. An activity she never thought the younger would partake in as she was always for everything a Lady should be strictly against. But it got her out of her sight as it was her fault Lady had been killed. If Arya had not befriended the damned butcher's boy and had not attacked Joffrey back, she would still have her. The younger was disgusted with her for reasons unknown to her, she had far gotten past the point of getting along with her wild sister. Shaking her head to rid herself of such thoughts, Sansa eyed the crimson red and yellow dress she had decided to wear in honour of her betrothed.

Wearing the colours of his House was strange to her, the red clashing greatly with her brightly coloured hair, but she had to please him. All women had to please their intended. It wouldn't do her good to be set aside as then she would just be labelled 'the rejected Queen'- and Sansa couldn't have that. She was going to be Queen one day. Standing beside her golden lion atop the Iron Throne, having numerous sons and daughters with him, living a life of luxury, and being in a position that was untouchable- it was all her dreams coming true at once.

"My Lady, I've been sent to escort you to meet with the Prince."

She jumped as the voice registered, the Hound still frightening her greatly. His sheer height, muscles, hard looks already being menacing enough. The scars that covered half of his face only adding to it all. He was wearing his characteristics armour and carrying his very noticeable helm with his elbow.

"I can make my own way Ser- "

"None of that girl. I've been commanded to escort you, and it is not a good idea to refuse a command from the crowned Prince."

Sansa frowned just slightly at his words, wondering what that meant. Surely it would show she was independent and had fully accepted the Red Keep as her home if she did so? But she wasn't going to argue with the Clegane, so she dutifully followed him. By now, Sansa knew her way around much of the castle, but she knew she was an idiot to say she knew everything about the castle. Monarchy was drummed into her from a young age, could name all Kings there had been alongside their Queens, and all their children. Aegon I began the building of the castle, his son Maegor to his sister Visenya finishing it. The man in question then killing everyone who was used to build the castle so its secrets could never be revealed.

"I'd be honoured to, Ser."

"Don't call me Ser girl, I ain't no Knight."

Her face frowned in confusion for only a moment before following him down the staircase to the bottom level of the castle. Paintings on the walls showing members of Houses Baratheon and Lannister back numerous generations- probably had portraits of the Targaryen's before Robert ascended to the throne after winning the war. She had taken care to have her hair styled as intricately as the Queen's. Wanting to show her loyalty to them by mimicking her. Eyes glancing to the ground for a split second as she remembered the look the golden-haired woman had given her when she put the thought into her husbands mind to have Lady killed. Queen Cersei had always been kind to her, had treated her brilliantly in fact, almost as well as her own daughter Myrcella.

The Hound led her to the main courtyard where she noticed the gate was opened to the outside, a gold and red wheelhouse waiting for them to take them around the city. She wondered where he was going to take her? Hopefully to the Street of Silk so she could get some new sewing supplies. She had been running low for a while and didn't want to ask the Princess for some in case it insulted the younger.

"Away with you dog, leave me with my Lady for the day. I'll whistle on you when we're finished."

The Hound's lips tightened marginally before nodding his head and walking away. Joffrey reached his hand out for her to take which she did with a slight blush on her face, curtseying politely to her betrothed before kissing the back of his hand as was expected of her. Sansa was glad they would not be riding, her hating the way it felt to feel a saddle rubbing against her thighs. She wasn't like Arya, who at times made her think she had been born atop a horse- something those in Winterfell said about aunt Lyanna. Everyone said she was a lot like her in both looks and in personality. The redhead shook her head to rid herself of such thoughts.

"Where will be headed, my Prince?"

The smile that came from him had butterflies erupting in her stomach and gooseflesh to bubble underneath her skin. How did Robb, Jon, and Arya see anything other than gallant in him? He showered her with flowers, jewellery, gifts, and too many lemon cakes to count.

"First we will head into the Street of Steel, I've got a new crossbow being crafted that I need to pick up. Then we will go through the markets where you can get everything you would like, my Lady. We will go around behind Flea Bottom to the Street of Silk, before finally heading to the Sept of Baelor. I would like to pay my respects to Lord Jon Arryn's resting place."

Her heart jolted a little as he spoke about the last Hand, her uncle through marriage to her mother's sister. The sister she had never met before, who had fled not long after he had died from a sudden sickness. She'd been excited to meet her, her mother spoke about her younger siblings often- not always with high respect, but fondly.

Sansa had never been to the Street of Steel before, and it was both everything and nothing like she had expected. Numerous stalls on either side, with the blacksmiths and their apprentices working hard. Multiple weapons strewn on the wooden tables in varying designs. They got out of the wheelhouse now, glad that the scent was obscured with the scent of burning fires from the forges. They walked further up the street, Sansa noticing that the higher up they got on the hill, the larger and grander the shops became. By the time they got to the top, the two shops on either side were the size of Winterfell's courtyard. Her eyes were wide as she saw the decoration, surprised that a shop could look like this. Clearly, this place was somewhere only the richest could afford.

"My Prince, how may I help you today?"

Sansa looked down to the ground, knowing it was not right for a highborn to look a lowborn in the eye. Something that Arya hated- another thing that alienated her from her younger sister.

"I asked for a new crossbow to be commissioned a month prior, I received word that it was completed, Tobho Mott."

The older man tilted his head and made a humming noise.

"Gendry! Bring out the crossbow we've been working on!"

The boy who responded was tall, that was the first thing Sansa noticed. Much taller than Joffrey, but not as tall as the King. With hair black as night and eyes so blue they seemed to sparkle against his ivory skin. He walked over to them carrying an ornate box decorated with red, orange, and yellow gemstones, with bits of metal intricately placed amongst the wood to show a lion on one side and a stag on the other. The two sides of his family, although he had no Baratheon traits in him look-wise. Then again, she was one to talk as if no one knew her name, no one would guess her to be a Stark. Sansa looked Tully through and through, just like Arya looked Stark through and through.

Why was she thinking about her sister so much today? Blinking, she noticed that Joffrey had opened the box to examine the weapon, the boy who had handed it over looking to the ground with his hands clasped behind his back- waiting on approval for the work. Despite not taking much notice in weapons as she was a girl, even she couldn't deny that the crossbow was a work of art. It was carved with what appeared to be mahogany, polished in a deep red that reminded her greatly of blood, with gemstones lining it all over. Beside it, there were a few arrows and her eyes widened slightly at recognising the material used.

"These arrows are tipped with Valyrian steel."

Joffrey gave her an odd look at this, whilst the blacksmith was glancing to her inquisitively.

"I'm surprised a girl knows what Valyrian steel looks like- "

"My father has a sword. I'd recognise that almost black shade with pale blue ripples anywhere."

The boy- Gendry- she reminded herself, looked her directly in the eye for a split second before looking to the ground again. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Joffrey's lip curl in tightly. Clearly angry at her for speaking outside what was expected of her. She stumbled out an apology quickly before commenting on the weapon. Obviously, this man was one of the few people who know how to rework the ancient steel. There were less than one hundred who did if what Maester Luwin taught her was correct.

"May I know your name? This truly is splendid work."

The boy looked Joffrey in the face for a moment before looking away again, clearly knowing his station as a lowborn.

"Gendry Waters, my Lord."

Sansa's stomach did a flip at this. Waters- the name given to bastards of the Crownlands. She watched as Joffrey gave the blacksmith a seething look at this, something she had not seen on him before.

"You let a bastard work on my weapon?!"

The blacksmith simply shrugged, not falling for the bait.

"He's my best apprentice, my Prince. He lives in my home above the shop with me as his mother died when he was young, and he has no idea who his father is. All he knows is that his father was a highborn looking for a good night with a golden-haired whore."

Her stomach tightened more now at the way her betrothed was speaking, spitting the word bastard like it was the worst thing in existence. She herself went by this thought process, had scorned her cousin for it for most of his life. Except, Jon wasn't a bastard at all was he? He's the male heir to House Targaryen. Sansa paused for a moment as these words sank in for her. She had never thought to herself this was the case. Had been adamant that if he were to claim the throne, it would be the rebellion come again. Her mother's words circulating in her head.

Robert Baratheon is a proud man, and to him a rejection is an act of war. In his mind, he does nothing wrong. This is not a good trait to have. Starting a war to get back a woman who didn't want him was stupid, incredibly so. He was lucky in a sense that people were blocking letters being sent to confirm everything which caused Brandon to act recklessly. Yes, this is what started the war, and the rules of conquest are clear which does invalidate a claim for Jon and legitimises the Baratheon's. However, proud Houses who lost men in this war may take it as insult if it gets out that the war was based on a false truth, which could potentially make them openly rebel with the King and Queen. If this is the case, it invalidates their claim and makes Jon's valid. It's a tricky situation.

"Forgive me, my Prince, my Lady. I will not work on weapons for the royal family again."

Sansa accepted the apology immediately as was befitting a Lady before watching Joffrey carefully pack his new weapon into the wheelhouse which had been rode up the hill to meet them. Something she was glad about as her legs were cramping from climbing up such a steep hill. From where they were, she could see the top of Visenya's hill, where the Sept of Baelor stood. Said to be the grandest Sept in all the Kingdoms- although Oldtown would beg to differ. Built over the destroyed Sept there was before that was destroyed by Maegor after the Faith Militant began revolting against their line.

"How far away are the markets, my Prince?"

The tall boy sat beside her gave her another dazzling smile her way before replying it would take approximately twenty minutes to ride there. She was quiet the entire ride down the hill where they took a left to go down the street parallel to the Street of Steel which wasn't going up a steep hill. The first thing that caught her attention were the numerous scents. From perfume, to food, to shops unique scents to try and lure in customers. The second thing that did was just how busy it was. Sansa never travelled much, had only gone to a couple of towns in the North and once to White Harbour with her father to visit Lord Manderly. White Harbour was the largest city in the North- many people considered it to be the only city. But compared to this, it was like a village.

To her right were a bunch of children rushing and pushing past people playing cat and mouse. To her left were a mixture of highborn and lowborn mingling, or possibly it was lowborn posing as highborn. It wasn't uncommon knowledge that everyone strives to better themselves. In front of her were crowds so huge that if she didn't know better- she would've assumed it to have been a small army. In amongst all the hustle and bustle, she spotted the gold cloaks of the City Watch. She'd become accustomed with a few of them as there were many within the walls of the Red Keep. Then her eyes landed on a flower stall, and she couldn't stop herself before rushing over to take them all in. Momentarily forgetting that it was rude to not ask her betrothed for permission to do so, and when she did remember, her cheeks heated up as she muttered out apologies to Joffrey.

Lilacs, lilies, daisies, sunflowers, snowdrops. Too many for her to count, and way too many for her to admire. All arranged from largest at the back to smallest at the front, and from left to right arranged in such a way it looked like a rainbow. Nervously, she cast a side-glance to the Prince who once again gave her one of his dashing smiles before asking her if she would like some. Sansa tried her best to hide her growing smile at the gesture, feeling butterflies in her stomach once more.

"Ah, a Northern gal. Don't get many of you lot down south."

She jumped at the strong accent that the shopkeeper presented. Her bright blue eyes looking the woman in the face before remembering it was rude for someone highborn to look someone lowborn directly in the eye.

"That would be your future Queen, woman. Apologise now."

The last two words almost came out as a growl, and the redhead frowned in confusion. What was he asking her to apologise for? She hadn't said anything insulting- had she? She managed to keep her face relatively impassive but couldn't stop her lips curling in ever so slightly in embarrassment. By now, she knew there were numerous eyes on them, and it made Sansa feel like a toddler in trouble. A feeling she knew well as Arya had a knack for blaming her nasty pranks on her. Or more like when she couldn't get away with blaming Robb or Bran.

"Apologies, my Lady, I did not mean to be rude. It's just that we received a shipment of seeds from White Harbour a month prior we've been growing."

Her right eyebrow ticked a little, growing more confused. The woman walked to the back before emerging with a flowerpot. But it wasn't this that caught her attention. What did was the bright blue rose that was growing out of the soil. Sansa's eyes widened massively upon seeing it, not realising until now how much she'd missed seeing these in Winterfell's glass gardens.

"I'd imagine you've seen plenty of these, my Lady?"

Joffrey turned to her now, and from the small nod knew he was giving her permission.

"Indeed. We grow them in the glass gardens as it's way too cold to grow them outdoors. They were always one of my favourites. My father used to tell me I reminded him of his own sister with my fascination over them."

Out the corner of her eye, Sansa spotted the way Joffrey's eye twitched. Clearly not pleased with her answer. She handed over a single silver stag which the woman tried to deny by saying it was too much but the younger was adamant. She picked a few others and watched as the woman arranged her a beautiful bouquet, making sure the winter rose was in the centre of it all to really showcase its beauty. They stayed in the markets for around another hour. Getting some food, strolling around a couple of shops, and picking up a new dress in a forest green shade- her betrothed said it made her red hair pop even more.

Ever since she was a young girl, she'd heard people talk about how lovely the Street of Silk was. To say she was disappointed was an understatement. There was perhaps three feet distance between each shop and everyone was crowded so tightly she felt like she was being crushed alive. Sansa hated tight spaces, always had. When she had developed this fear, she could not say. She'd had it for as long as she could remember. Joffrey was giving her curious glances but he didn't say anything. Not that she would've heard him anyway, as there were too many noises surrounding her it was difficult to focus. After a few moments, she felt the older boy lace his hand within hers as he pulled her over to a shop that had so much decoration on the outside it gave off a severe air of bragging.

It was something she'd known for a long time, because she had a lot of bragging rights. She is one of two people who can say they are next in line to be the Lady of Winterfell. Inside was much the same as the outside. Numerous gemstones, precious metals, Myrish glass, and much more. Anything and everything only the richest could afford. Something caught her eye though, a section of silk. From where Sansa was standing, she could tell it wasn't ordinary silk. Slowly, she walked over to it and Joffrey noticed her current fascination.

"Have you ever seen Myrish silk before, my Lady? It's incredibly rare to come by as they make only a couple of hundred rolls a year. It's incredibly sought after in Essos by Magister's and Master's alike."

Sansa's heart leaped a little at the second group mentioned. She wasn't stupid, she paid attention in her classes unlike Arya who would rather climb up hundred-foot trees with Bran and ride her horse through rivers and puddles of mud. Slavery was common in Essos, the only city who had it completely outlawed was Braavos- a city built up from the ground by escaped slaves from the Valyrian Freehold. Carefully, she unrolled some of it so she could feel the material in question. It felt like nothing. So light and so delicately woven it just slid through her fingers much like water does.

"How much does this cost?"

She asked the question to the shopkeeper who she noticed was keeping a close eye on her. From his tanned skin, she knew he was either Dornish or from somewhere in Essos. Possibly even the Summer Isles.

"Twenty gold dragons per square metre, my Lady."

Her eyes widened in surprise. This stuff was expensive. Not that she couldn't afford it, but that was more than triple what regular silk was. But Sansa ached to have a roll of this, wanted to make a dress out of it so she could look the part more as future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

"We shall take three rolls; my betrothed can pick whichever colours she wishes."

If she didn't feel like a giddy child beforehand, she felt like she was dancing on the seventh cloud now. She was going to get her own roll, but she wasn't going to turn down her golden Prince's offer. So, Sansa picked out three colours. One in red, one in yellow, and one in a deep navy that had silver sparkles interwoven to the point it glittered whenever the light hit it.

"At least you shall be protected my Lady, from any knives in the back with this."

Confusion settled in as she eyed the shopkeeper oddly, taking care not to look him directly in the eye. It was Joffrey that answered though.

"Myrish silk is known to be woven in such a way that a knife cannot penetrate it. Well, not much. I remember when my mother gifted Myrcella some a couple of years prior. Brought in one of the pigs that was about to be butchered down and demonstrated it to us all. Without the silk, the knife embedded into the hilt. With the silk, it only embedded in around an inch. I doubt it would work with a sword though."

The shopkeeper simply nodded to confirm his silent question as they walked outside. Now heading towards the famous Sept of Baelor. Sansa was of the North, therefore she prayed more to the Old Gods than she did the New. However, she felt like she connected more with her mother's gods, and her mother always said this Sept was the grandest she had ever visited. Her parents had married in a Sept- the one built within Riverrun. The double marriage between Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully, alongside Lysa Tully and Jon Arryn. As they were on the opposite side of the city from there, they climbed back into the wheelhouse. She looked all around her from the windows, familiarising herself with the city more. Only gagging momentarily as they passed Flea Bottom where the stench of shit was at its worst.

The building blew her away as soon as she took it in. Seven towers with a glass dome in the centre. The Seven-Pointed-Star etched in between each tower and a door from every side. Easily one hundred feet in height and with bricks so bright the light bouncing off it almost blinded her. People were spilling out from the doors from their prayers and others were walking inside to pray themselves. Whether that be to the mother, the father, the stranger, the crone, the maiden, the smith, or the warrior. She took the arm offered to her as she was led inside, the interior even grander than outside. The stairs were carpeted in the richest velvet, deep blue in colour with gold designs etched inside. At the balcony, she realised with a shock that it was built into the hill and not simply sitting atop it. In front of her was a tower in the centre, attaching to the glass dome which she realised when looking up must've had crystal in it as little rainbows were bouncing off the walls inside. A small pathway leading from the balcony into the tower.

"That's the room where they take a body so the family can grieve in peace. The floor below this is where bodies are cremated after being blessed with the seven oils by Septas and Septons. The lowest floors is where the ashes are scattered from the royal family. Almost all Targaryen's remains are there, others on Dragonstone in their own Sept."

Once again, Sansa's stomach turned in knots. A part of her wanted to show off with her knowledge of the royal family, but another part of her felt sick as technically Rhaegar was her uncle. Were his remains here? Were his children's remains here?

"I heard from your Septa that you can name every member there has ever been of the royal family. Care to put it to use, my Lady?"

She wanted to say no, badly. But she couldn't refuse him. He was her betrothed, was to be her husband and her King one day. Be the mother of his children. So, Sansa nodded and plastered on a smile as she was led to the lowest floors. Being down so far reminded her greatly of the Winterfell crypts- which she hated to visit. Seeing all the statues of the dead with their swords and their tombs just staring at her made her incredibly uneasy. She hadn't visited for a long time, still remembering the last time she had as Jon had jump scared her covered in flour pretending to be a ghost. She hadn't even looked at him for days for that.

But here? There were no menacing statues staring at her with their stone eyes. Nor were there any ancient swords balanced on their laps that with a couple of minutes with a whetstone would be sharp enough to cut through her body. Here there was simply plaques stating who was buried here and a little bit about them. When they were born, when they died, how they died, who their parents were, if they were a dragonrider which dragon they rode. Sansa did just as she was asked, name as many as she could from their descriptions as Joffrey was hiding the engraved names with his hands. She got them all correct, Joffrey clearly impressed from the raised eyebrows at her knowledge. But it was the one at the end which made her feel violently ill.

Born during the tragedy of Summerhall to King Aerys II and Queen Rhaella Targaryen. Elder brother to Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen. Called the last dragon. Died from pierced lungs from a crushed ribcage from a Warhammer by King Robert Baratheon on the banks of the Trident. Began a war due to taking the Lady Lyanna Stark of Winterfell from her betrothed without her consent.

In her mind, she was reading the last part repeatedly. It was wrong, so wrong. Rhaegar and Lyanna eloped, and she went willingly. Where she died giving birth to their son who was raised in the same building as she was.

"My father's greatest achievement. Killing Rhaegar Targaryen. Even to this day he boasts in detail of the moment he struck him in the chest with his spiked war hammer. From the way his eyes widened, to the way he fell from his horse into the river which was littered with rubies from his armour. To the look they gave one another."

From the glint now in his eye, Sansa finally saw. She should've done so a long time ago but she was so determined to better herself and to ignore everyone else that she ignored it. Joffrey was glad this had happened- he wouldn't even be alive if it hadn't happened. Robert only married Cersei because Lyanna had died in childbed. If things turned out differently, who would she have ended up with? Viserys Targaryen? Willas Tyrell? Perhaps even her own cousin Robyn Arryn? There was no way for her to know. They stayed for another hour or so before making their way back to the wheelhouse which was waiting to take them back to the Red Keep. Thoughts running through her mind as she finally understood her mother's words about just how tricky this all was. The only comfort there was, was that Jon had promised her he wasn't going to press on his claim and he would respect the match if she were happy.

Eddard Stark

Kings Landing, 299AC

Eddard was never someone who hid things from people- especially from his family. The only thing he ever did keep to himself was Jon's identity but it was out now amongst them. But now he had a lot more he had to keep to himself. However, he couldn't hide the small smirk of pride from coming onto his face at the ruse they'd come up with. Making it look like Jon was taking the black and was lost was a stroke of genius. Whether he had thought of it himself or if someone had helped him, he had no idea. But he had to make it look like he had just found out.

"Another raven, Lord Hand? I didn't imagine you would be so popular."

Anger whirled inside of him as he eyed the small man. Ever since he'd found out he'd challenged Brandon for Catelyn's hand and bragged that he had taken her maidenhood when he hadn't- he distrusted the man greatly.

"A man cannot correspond with his family often, Lord Baelish?"

He laughed before giving him a quizzical glance. Following him down the corridor to the stairs that led to the tower he was residing in. He had to make it believable, meaning he had to tell the girls. Arya would be heart broken. He was unsure about Sansa though.

"I received a raven two months past informing me my second eldest had taken the black. I've just received a raven from the Lord Commander offering condolences as he hasn't come back from a ranging nor have any of the others who went with him. They think he's dead. First my brother, and now my son. I'm on my way to tell my daughters."

Petyr didn't have anything clever to say to that, and he diverted and went down another corridor as he walked up the many stairs. Many servants passed him alongside a few guards, but neither paid him any attention as he finally got to his floor. Ned licked his lips and sighed deeply before knocking on both of his daughter's doors. Arya was spinning on the spot with the tiny sword he'd let her keep, and Sansa was seemingly gossiping with Jeyne as both girls were giggling- probably over the redhead's day out earlier in the week with the Prince. But when they saw his face, they knew something was up. The redhead signalled for her friend to leave which she did without question as they followed Ned into his room.

"Girls, I haven't been completely honest with either of you the past two months. I received a letter from your mother informing me that Jon had decided to join the Night's Watch as a sworn brother, and he did."

Arya immediately opened her mouth to protest but with a stern look from him, she backed down. He clasped his hands and tried to ignore the thumping of his heart over the lie he was about to tell. Once the truth was out, he swore he wouldn't lie again. But he had to, for all their sakes.

"I received this raven this morning. It's from the Lord Commander."

He didn't say anything further than this, simply handed the parchment over to them so they could read what was on there. Once they had finished, Arya immediately began crying and ran from the room. There was no point in stopping her, she was way too fast for him. He'd found that out the hard way.

"Sansa, I know you weren't close with him. But he loved you dearly. He always saw you as nothing but his little sister."

Her stern expression cracked a little at this and he was left floored as she immediately began crying as well. He had expected her to be cold about this or to just get on with it, he hadn't expected for her to have the same reaction as her sister. He sat down beside her and pulled her small head into his chest, rubbing circles into her back to try and calm her down.

"I- I never got to tell him I'm sorry. I've been thinking a lot since everything that happened with Lady and now he's gone!"

A fresh round of tears left her and soon his cotton shirt was soaked through. But he made no move to let her go. Thoughts were racing through his head as this was the first time she had openly spoke about what had happened to her wolf with him.

"I'll bitterly regret what happened to Lady for the rest of my life baby girl. But she didn't deserve to be made into a pelt for the Queen to wear. She's of the North, she-wolfs belong there."

"Like aunt Lyanna?"

He bit his lip at this, remembering her pleads to keep her son safe. Yet here he was lying to his own daughter to keep said son safe. Could he trust her not to blab?

"Yes. King Robert wanted to bury her on a hill with the sun and clouds above her and cover her tomb with red roses. I refused him, she asked Wylla to tell me she wanted to be buried with our parents and Brandon."

"Wylla was his wet nurse wasn't she?"

All he could do was nod. Hardly anyone knew that apart from the Dayne's as they were in on it alongside those in Winterfell before he was weaned onto solid foods.

"Meet me in the Godswood in an hour, Sansa. I know you connect more with your mother's gods, but you're still of the North."

He'd decided he was going to tell her the truth. From her reaction, he knew she cared for him. She nodded before leaving to go into her own room. Once he was in solitude, he let out a long sigh.

"Old gods help me please. Please don't let anything else happen to my family."

He only added the last part in case someone was listening in. It didn't seem like there was, but he didn't want to chance it. All it takes is one person to overhear for it to be game over. Jon was going to press on his claim. He'd been receiving ravens from him, but not frequently as they had to send it to the watch first before redirecting it to the capital. Adding extra days onto the raven's journey. The most recent one confirming the dragons had settled in a cave close to Greywater Watch. Plus, they were nearing the size of ponies. It would've taken around three weeks for the raven to arrive here from him, meaning that in only three months they had grown to this size. As usual, the Godswood was deserted. The only family who worshipped the Old Gods were the Blackwood's in the Riverland's. Sansa's bright red hair caught his attention quickly as he sat down beside her. He noticed she was holding tightly onto a bracelet.

"Where did you get that?"

Gently, she handed it to him and he examined it. He'd seen this mark before, from the jeweller of Wintertown.

"Jon gave it to me before he left."

"Jon isn't dead, Sansa."

The words didn't hit her for quite some time but eventually she looked to him with a hurt expression.

"Hear me out. Something happened, something impossible. And it meant Jon could no longer remain in Winterfell. Robb, your mother, and Jon came up with a ruse to make it look like he was dead to avoid suspicion. He didn't take the black, he's in Greywater Watch with Howland Reed."

She was silent for a few minutes as she let the words process in her head. What did this mean? What could've happened to have her brothers and mother stage a mummery?

"What happened, father?"

At her question, he breathed deeply and wrung his fingers tightly together. Trying to think of a way to soften the blow but there quite frankly was not a simple way to say this.

"The eggs hatched. Two live dragons emerged. He named them Lyrax and Rhaegon. He isn't going to press on any claim any time soon, so you don't need to worry. He didn't realise they would hatch, he described it as being a throbbing voice in his head. It happened during the fire with the assassination attempt on Bran. He believes the deaths of the assassin and the librarian caused an effect that allowed dragons to be reborn. Your mother validated it, as did Robb and Bran. Howland has as well, alongside Jeor Mormont and Ser Alliser Thorne. They've all sworn themselves to secrecy on the matter. Can you swear it to me too? If this gets out Sansa, it will lead to all our heads on spikes, I'm not going to sugar-coat it to you. This is an incredibly dangerous situation."