Sansa couldn't contain her emotions at the sight of Bran, standing alongside Nymeria at the castle gates. In an uncharacteristic display of affection, she rushed towards her little brother, wrapping her arms around him.
Now that Bran was almost ten and three, he had grown a great deal since Sansa was in Winterfell, making it impossible for Sansa to lift him. It had been two years since they last met, and in that time, Bran had undergone significant changes. His cute face was turning into that of a man. Thankfully, he hadn't transformed into the Three-Eyed Raven, a relief for Sansa. However, it was Bran's travelling companion, Lord Varys, which dampened her joy.
"Gods, Bran, you've grown so much," tears of joy streamed down Sansa's cheeks as she pulled back to examine him. "Let me look at you," she said, elated to see him standing on both legs. "I bet you're eager to learn how to be a knight from Ser Barristan."
Bran shifted. "Father wants me to learn how to run a keep first. But I can still learn, can't I?" he asked. "Is Ser Barristan alright?" he asked.
"He will be," Sansa nodded. "He's getting better. You might be able to see him later, you'll need to as Maester Fell."
To Sansa's surprise, Uncle Benjen emerged from behind Bran with a grin. "I got caught up with this bunch of waifs and strays. Thought I'd tag along," he said, stepping forward to greet Sansa.
"Uncle Benjen," she smiled, more tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt like a mess. "Why are you here?"
"Lord Commander Mormont thought it might be wise to have someone with a castle education to assist Mance in running this place until he's settled. Word has it a Northern council will soon be convened," Benjen explained, placing a hand on Bran's shoulder. "This one here needs to learn how to manage a keep, just in case knighthood isn't his path. And where better to learn than Queenscrown?"
"Bran, Uncle Benjen," Robb's voice came from behind as he strolled over, embracing his younger brother and uncle. "What brings you here?"
"He's been sent to spy on me," Mance interjected as he joined them with Robb. "Am I right, crow?"
"Aye, I suppose so, in a fashion," Benjen admitted. "I've been tasked with sending reports to Castle Black and Winterfell. If help is required, they'll send it. But my primary purpose is to aid you. If Mormont wanted a spy, he'd have sent someone unfamiliar. I bring skills that can benefit this place. And so does young Bran here," he added, smiling down at his nephew. "We can all support each other."
A cough interrupted the moment from behind Benjen and Bran, drawing their attention to a bald man clad in grey silken robes.
"Lord Varys, I presume?" Sansa inquired as Varys approached, taking her hand in both of his.
"And you must be Lady Whitestark. I've heard much about you, though I'm surprised you were aware of my presence. I only caught up with young Bran here last night," his soft voice purred. Sansa couldn't help but wonder if he had been observing them earlier but revealed himself at the opportune moment. "How did you recognise me?"
"Your reputation precedes you, Lord Varys. You're not the only one with spies," she replied with a sweet smile. Varys nodded in acknowledgement of her astuteness.
Sansa then addressed all three newcomers. "We spotted you earlier this morning. Your chambers are prepared, complete with hot baths. Food will be sent up shortly, and I imagine you all could use some rest. We'll reconvene later in the family dining room," she concluded, and with that, the group dispersed.
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Sansa was engrossed in paperwork in her solar when a knock sounded at the door. "Come in," she called out, setting aside her quill.
Bran entered, his expression serious but not the blank one she had grown accustomed to during his time as the Three-Eyed Raven.
"Bran," she greeted with a smile. "I thought you'd be resting after your journey," she gestured to the chair on the opposite side of the desk for Bran to sit.
"I thought you might want me to update you on everything that's been happening in King's Landing," he replied, taking the proffered chair.
Sansa nodded, leaning back in her chair. "I thought you might prefer to wait until later."
"Too much is happening for me to remember everything if I don't do it now," Bran explained.
Sansa intertwined her fingers and sighed. While she was aware of most of the developments, she needed assurance that their plans were progressing smoothly. "Go on," she urged.
"The goblets have been designed and are awaiting collection from the jewellers," Bran began. "Lady Olenna and Lady Margaery had a meeting with Littlefinger and Jon," he added, blushing. "I believe Lady Margaery was quite taken with Jon."
Sansa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "That doesn't surprise me."
"Arya told the Tyrells that the desire to kill Joffrey was coming from across the Narrow Sea. She revealed herself as a Faceless Assassin and suggested the Tyrells fight for the right side," Bran informed Sansa.
"Which side is that?" Sansa asked, hoping they hadn't divulged too much information.
"An heir raised in Westeros who has a better claim to the Iron Throne than anyone else," Bran replied.
"Was there any mention of a betrothal to Robb?" Sansa inquired, to which Bran shook his head.
"I followed them after the meeting," Bran continued. "We can't be certain of their support."
"What did Olenna say?" Sansa pressed.
"Her exact words were, 'Threatening me with a Faceless Assassin if we don't fight for the right side. We'll see about that. I'll decide which is the right side to fight for, Faceless Assassin or not. Let us see who this heir is. I would have thought that beggar King in the east or his sister. But they weren't raised in Westeros. Which suggests one of Rhaegar's children lived. Let us hope they somehow saved Aegon, and he is unwed,'" Bran recounted, mimicking Lady Olenna's voice with surprising accuracy. Despite the gravity of the message, Sansa almost laughed at his mimicry.
Sansa intertwined her fingers and let out a sigh. "I suppose I'll need a food taster when Jon's identity becomes known. Is there anything else?"
"Everything else is proceeding according to plan. Arya is currently meeting with Tyrion. However, there are plans for Tyrion to marry Aunt Lysa," Bran informed her, eliciting a snort from Sansa, quite unladylike.
"Seven hells, she'll lock him in one of the sky cells before she agrees to marry him, especially when she's set her heart on Littlefinger," Sansa remarked.
"Tywin wants Cersei to wed Uncle Edmure," Bran continued, prompting genuine laughter from Sansa. "And he's stripping Jaime of his white cloak so that he can marry you. Varys is here to arrange Jon's murder."
Sansa's laughter ceased abruptly, replaced by a pallor. "Thank the gods Jon is in King's Landing. We need to deal with him before we depart for Winterfell. What did he say to you while you were with him?"
"Not much. He seemed interested in Jon. He wanted to know if I knew who his mother was. I told him Father says she was Ser Arthur Dayne's sister," Bran recounted. "Did I do the right thing?" he asked.
Sansa took a sip of watered-down cider. "You did well, Bran," she assured him with a smile. "I think I should speak with Lord Varys alone."
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Upon Sansa's request, Lord Varys joined her later in her solar. She took care to prepare her best Arbor Red, intending to make the eunuch feel welcome. His presence in Queenscrown puzzled her. In their previous life, he had been a Targaryen loyalist, supporting Joffrey until a better offer arose.
In that life, Jon had been that better offer the eunuch was looking for, although Varys hadn't been aware of Jon's true identity at the time. Instead, he had allied with Daenerys. Sansa suspected he may still plan to ally with the Dragon Queen and serve her, which meant she needed to persuade him otherwise.
Rather than sitting at her desk, they were to be settled by the fire in Sansa and Jon's chambers. She was flanked by Ghost and Lady, with a dragon egg nestled among the flames. Sansa was intrigued to observe Varys' reaction to it. While her idea of revealing Jon's true identity to Varys was risky, if he remained a Targaryen loyalist, he could become a valuable ally.
As he entered her chambers, Sansa noticed his eyes scanning the room, as if searching for clues about her and Jon. Apart from the two direwolves and the dragon egg, he would find nothing.
"Please, have a seat, Lord Varys," Sansa gestured to one of the chairs beside the fire. As he settled in, she joined him in the chair opposite. "Would you care for some wine? I have an Arbor Red," she offered. "I find it preferable, as it's sweeter than the Dornish Red. Though truth be told, I've grown accustomed to our locally produced cider."
"Don't mind if I do," Varys accepted with a smile. "I would be most grateful to sample some of your cider," he added.
"I'll ensure some is waiting for you in your chambers," Sansa promised, her expression turning serious. "I'm fully aware of the reason for your visit. My spies have informed me of Lord Tywin's intentions regarding a match between myself and Ser Jaime. Let me be clear: I would sooner leap from the cliffs of Casterly Rock than marry Jaime Lannister," she declared, taking a sip of wine.
"He's a very handsome man. And he's the heir to Casterly Rock," Varys remarked, attempting to maintain a pleasant facade, but Sansa saw through it. He was not impressed by the proposed match either.
"My husband is also very handsome, Lord Varys," Sansa countered.
"But not the heir to Casterly Rock," he pointed out.
Sansa chuckled. "No, indeed," she agreed, scratching behind Ghost's ear as he rested his head on her lap. "He possesses other qualities that Jaime Lannister could only dream of," she mused, then frowned. "Though considering he is a Kingsguard, such dreams are unlikely to materialise," she added with a shrug. "Oh, I nearly forgot. Allow me to introduce you to our direwolves. This is Ghost, Jon's companion, and this is Lady," she said, gently stroking her own wolf's head. "They are fiercely protective of us," she added, the warning clear in her tone.
Varys shifted slightly, attempting to mask his discomfort. "Is that your concern? Ser Jaime wouldn't take kindly to your wolves?"
"No, my concern is how you would go about annulling our marriage," Sansa clarified.
Varys frowned. "Ah, I see. Lord Tywin assumed you and Lord Whitestark would encounter... difficulties in that area, given your... upbringing," he sighed.
Sansa seized the opportunity. "Lord Varys, look into the flames. What do you see? I assure you, this is no trick," she added, noting his confused expression.
The eunuch sighed and directed his gaze into the fire. After a moment, his eyes widened with shock, and he turned to face her. "Why is there a dragon egg in the fire?" he asked.
"Jon believes it's incubating, awaiting his sacrifice," Sansa informed him, though she wasn't certain of the truth herself. Daenerys had hatched her dragons using blood sacrifices.
"How does Jon know this?" Varys narrowed his eyes at Sansa, who shrugged.
"He just knows. It's as if the egg communicated its desires to him. I believe they share a bond, much like us Starks do with our direwolves," she explained.
"Only those with Targaryen blood form bonds with dragons," Varys pointed out.
Sansa took a sip of wine, smirking. "I'm aware. Hence, there was no issue with consummating the marriage, after all, we are cousins," she added with a chuckle.
"And you had no problems with such a match?" Varys asked.
"A choice between a handsome, kind, gentle man or Joffrey was not such a tough choice," Sansa shrugged.
A wide grin spread across Varys' face. "Why marry a Lord when you're already wed to a Prince?" he suggested.
"I believe you mean the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms," Sansa corrected him with a hint of pride.
"Of course, Your Grace," Varys bowed his head. "However, there are many obstacles to overcome before you can claim the Iron Throne. And I fear a baby dragon will be of little use to you."
"Please, would you care to elaborate?" Sansa prompted.
"King Joffrey," he began.
"Lady Olenna Tyrell and Lord Baelish are currently plotting to kill him. There's no point sending a raven; he'll be dead before it reaches King's Landing," Sansa interjected.
Varys appeared surprised, his jaw dropping before he regained his composure. "Lord Tywin," he continued.
"Will be dealt with," Sansa asserted, though they had no concrete plan for how to accomplish that.
"And the rest of the Lannisters?" Varys inquired.
"They will also face justice according to their crimes. And unlike Joffrey, we won't harm any children," Sansa assured him.
"And where is this army coming from?" Varys pressed.
"You ask many questions," Sansa observed. "We have secured the support of most of the Seven Kingdoms, right under your nose."
"Why are you sharing all of this with me?" Varys questioned. "Either you trust me, which would be foolish, or you intend to kill me."
"It depends, Lord Varys. My little spies inform me you are a Targaryen loyalist," Sansa said.
"I serve the realm, Lady Whitestark," Varys replied.
"And I assume we can both agree Joffrey is a cruel king," Sansa proposed, to which Varys nodded in agreement.
"And Tommen will simply do as Tywin commands, or worse, as Cersei dictates," she continued.
"I believe we agree on that point," Varys agreed.
"Cersei's children are all Jaime Lannister's bastards. They have no rightful claim to the Iron Throne. They haven't even seized it through conquest," Sansa asserted.
"It's difficult to predict the outcome in such a scenario, Lady Whitestark," Varys countered. "King Robert acknowledged them as his own, albeit unaware of the truth. The throne may need to be claimed by conquest once more unless a more legitimate claimant emerges."
"If you sought to remove the Lannisters, you must have had someone in mind before you journeyed north. Who? Daenerys Targaryen?" Sansa inquired, knowing full well the eunuch was already supporting Dany's cause, even if the Dragon Queen was unaware of it. She needed to sway him to Jon's side.
"I intended to support her cause," Varys admitted. "A friend of mine in Pentos has been closely monitoring her progress. She has left quite an impression," he added.
"I concur. Freeing slaves can only be seen as a positive endeavour," Sansa concurred. "Except when it's executed without careful consideration and planning. For then it can make the life of a slave even worse."
"Would you care to elaborate?" Varys prompted.
"Daenerys is an idealist, but she lacks the knowledge of ruling. Currently, she's leaving a trail of devastation across Slaver's Bay. She's eliminated almost every influential figure, aided by her dragons. Once she has conquered, she moves on to the next city. Each time, without establishing stable governance. She's essentially killing those who could assist her in governing. She's just arrived in Meereen. Let's assume she continues this pattern, and after Meereen, she sets her sights on Westeros. What will become of all the freed slaves in those cities? Who will be capable of governing? Who understands taxation laws and trade negotiations? People will be hesitant to venture to these places if they're ruled by angry mobs," Sansa explained.
"Perhaps she'll remain until things are stabilised and then proceed westward?" Varys suggested with a shrug.
"Her past actions suggest otherwise," Sansa countered. "And what will she do when she arrives in Westeros? Slay all the highborn who oppose her?" Memories of hearing about Sam's father and brother being burned alive because they refused to bend the knee would forever haunt her.
"So, you fear her?" Varys inquired.
"We should all fear her; she has three dragons," Sansa asserted.
"And your husband possesses only an egg," Varys sighed.
Sansa recalled a tale Jon had shared about Maester Aemon, the elder brother of King Aegon V, who referred to his sibling as "Egg."
"How fitting," Sansa remarked. "Especially considering Jon's real name is Aegon. But I digress," she redirected her attention to Varys. "You came north because you bore suspicions regarding Jon's lineage and wanted to find out if Jon is a preferable option to Daenerys, correct?"
Varys nodded. "I would be negligent if I didn't prioritise what's best for the realm. And I'm apprehensive about your husband's actions here in Queenscrown with the wildlings, which bear a resemblance to what Daenerys is doing in Slaver's Bay."
"Perhaps I should give you a tour of our facilities, Lord Varys. Two years ago, this town comprised little more than a dilapidated keep and a handful of ruins. Now it's a thriving community. We've established a successful cider business, and once the harvest is in, we'll stockpile grain for the winter and export the surplus for trade. Jon and I have taken a different approach from Daenerys. While she conquers and destroys, we build and flourish," Sansa explained.
Varys appeared impressed by her words. "I must admit, from what I've observed, it's quite remarkable. But Lady Whitestark, allow me to pose a question. How much time has Lord Whitestark spent in Queenscrown? It appears he's often on expeditions while you're the one overseeing construction."
Sansa fought the urge to grit her teeth. While there was a kernel of truth in Varys' assessment, she couldn't afford to let him see her vulnerability. "You flatter me, Lord Varys. However, I'm merely overseeing the projects. Jon is the visionary behind them. He's been heavily involved in recruitment and has been travelling to secure trade deals."
"So much so that he left his wife unattended, leaving her vulnerable to attack," Varys remarked with a smirk, gesturing to the fading bruises on Sansa's face.
"It wasn't one of the Free Folk who did this, Lord Varys. The culprit is someone else entirely. He's currently in captivity and will face justice in due time," Sansa replied, smoothing her skirts. "It seems I haven't swayed your opinion tonight, have I?"
"I need time to consider, Lady Whitestark. I cannot make a definitive decision until I've met your husband," Varys replied.
"Then you'll have to wait to meet him. We'll be reuniting with him soon, and I extend an invitation for you to join us," Sansa said with a smile.
Varys' face lit up. "I would be most grateful," he nodded.
Sansa leaned in closer. "However, I hope you understand I cannot allow you to spread the word of my husband's true identity. I don't know you well enough to trust you with that information."
Varys swallowed nervously. "I understand, my Lady."
"So, you'll also understand that while you won't be confined to cells, you will be restricted to your quarters with minimal outside contact. You may accompany me on town tours and spend time with me asking questions, but you'll only be left alone with individuals whom I trust implicitly," Sansa warned.
"It would be remiss of me to expect anything less, Lady Whitestark," Varys agreed, nodding.
"Then, for now, we have an agreement," Sansa smiled.
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The following morning, Sansa had only just finished dressing when Bran burst into her chambers without knocking.
"Bran!" she exclaimed. "You should knock first."
"I know, I know," he said breathlessly. "But this is important."
"What is it?" Sansa asked, her curiosity piqued.
"Prince Oberyn is coming north with Jon. He knows who Jon is and intends to seek support from his brother and Dorne, either for neutrality or to join our cause," Bran explained.
"How do you know?" Sansa inquired. She had had little interaction with the Red Viper and considered him an unknown factor.
"Oberyn and his paramour were at Littlefinger's brothel and saw Jon. Oberyn wanted to meet him, I think he..." Bran trailed off, blushing.
"Seven hells, Bran. Please tell me you weren't spying," Sansa groaned, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose.
Bran looked down at his feet and shook his head. She knew he always did that when he was lying. "I didn't," he insisted.
Deciding to table the issue for the moment, Sansa refocused on the matter at hand. "Go on, you were telling me about Prince Oberyn."
"He wants all the Lannisters dead and believes Jon is his best hope, so he's planning to travel north after Joffrey's wedding. Jon will be sailing to Dragonstone and catching the last ship from there to Gulltown, where he'll pick up Melisandre and await Arya. Davos won't be stopping in Gulltown; Jon wants him to sail straight to White Harbor," Bran informed her.
"When did this happen?" Sansa inquired, processing the flurry of information.
"Yesterday, after we spoke. I wanted to tell you last night, but you were with Lord Varys," Bran replied.
"Thank you, Bran," Sansa said with a smile. "I'll send word to Father. Someone needs to greet Ser Davos and Lady Shireen when they arrive." Though she wanted to address Bran's voyeuristic activities at the brothel, she realised it was a matter best handled by a male figure. Summoning a maid with the pull of a bell cord, she instructed, "Please inform Lord Robb that I need to see him in my solar immediately. It's urgent." Robb can deal with Bran, she thought. "Wait for your brother in the solar while I finish getting dressed," she told Bran.
As Bran left to wait for Robb, Sansa sighed and began braiding her hair. She felt a headache coming on. Managing a town was one thing, but reprimanding her almost thirteen-year-old brother for using his skin-changing abilities to observe the activities at a brothel was a different challenge and was well out of the scope of her capabilities. That was a job for Robb.