Sansa

It only felt like yesterday that Sansa had reunited with her sister at the Inn at the Crossroads. But now they have parted from each other once again, and not even with a goodbye. Just a simple letter left on her nightstand in the night that said only a few words of love and wishing luck. Arya's life was hers to lead now, everyone's was. With the dead defeated, everything just felt better.

Sweet as it was, peace and victory were not without work to be done.

All who would be returning to King's Landing and the other southern Kingdoms would be leaving in just a few hours, and it was more than enough time to help Rickon with his duties.

"I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New." Podrick finished his oath perfectly in front of all of the Winterfell court attending.

Rickon recited his acceptance. "And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and…"

"Meat and mead at my table," Sansa said quietly from her seat next to him.

"Meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. Arise."

Podrick smiled as he stood, and a man of the Stark Household came and set a steel Gorget around Podrick's neck that bore the Direwolf Sigil. He was finally sworn to House Stark as Captain of the Winterfell guard and protector of the Lord Stark. "I will make you proud, my lord." he bowed to Rickon and then glanced over to Brienne who smiled proudly at her former squire.

Once Podrick took his place behind Rickon, the rest of the matters followed.

"With the Night King and his army defeated," Rickon spoke in a firm but calm voice, "and the Wall and the castles based underneath it destroyed, what is to become of the Night's Watch? Shall we send them north with the returning Free Folk to help them cultivate their lands, or hold their oaths fulfilled and release them?"

Sansa stood from her seat. Since the Night's Watch was not technically under the North's jurisdiction, it fell to the crown to decide. "Unfortunately, many who took the Black were criminals choosing service to the realms rather than the law's justice for their crimes. Perhaps some have atoned for their crimes, and perhaps many would prey on the innocent the moment they had the chance. As such, I believe the Order should remain. However with the castles and forts destroyed, it would not be fair to send them to live amongst the rubble. Are there any suitable empty keeps near The Gift that they may occupy?"

"Queenscrown is the closest near The Gift," Lady Manderly said, now sitting in place of her late grandfather, "but far too small."

"There's Cregan's Holdfast," Lyanna Mormont suggested, "I've heard it's a ruin, but it can be rebuilt. And it remains in the Gift."

"I know it," said Rickon, "the tower keep is still intact as are the cellars. I made camp with Osha there for a few days. It's big enough. And then once winter's over, the North shall help the Watch rebuild what it can, but I don't think the Wall will need to return. We have peace. We don't need a reason to divide our people and forge an ancient grudge again."

"Here here!" Lord Forrester pounded the bench he sat upon and many others chorus as such.

"Queen Yara Greyjoy," Rickon said suddenly, turning everyone's focus to where she sat with her guard, "would you come forward, please?"

Silently, Yara stood up and walked to the center of the room, many curious and waiting to see what was going on, including Sansa.

Rickon leaned forward in his seat. "Theon and his men were responsible for fifty-two deaths of Winterfell's people and forty-one defenders of the North, totalling ninety-three dead because of him and his greed for power. When I finally learned what Ramsay Snow did to him, I was glad, and when I learned that my sister forgave Theon's treachery because he rescued her, I was angry. My father gave him a home and love that yours wouldn't have even humored. I didn't believe he deserved a second chance and would have taken his head myself if he survived the battle. I had every right to." Rickon was making a fist, but after a pregnant silence, he relaxed. "But not anymore. I forgive him," he said. "To honor his sacrifice, I ask that our people put an end to this feud that has claimed so many lives and look forward to the days ahead of us. To help your people find the ground to live fuller lives, I hereby declare that the lands of the Stoney Shore and Sea Dragon Point are now yours."

Yara seemed just as surprised as everyone. "My lord… I am honored by your generosity, and formally accept. We shall help repair the damage we have done, and begin anew. I will mark this day in my people's history that we began a prosperous age between the Iron Islands and the North. We will remember you, Lord Rickon Stark."

As the court cleared out, Sansa squeezed at Rickon's arm. "You did wonderful." She earned a proud smile from her brother. "If you ever need any help, you need only write."

"I know, but I don't feel the same as last time you left. I'll be alright." As they got up to leave the Great hall, Rickon tugged at Sansa's arm. "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you that Bran said he wanted to see you, Daenerys, and Jon in the Godswood later."

"What for?"

Rickon shrugged. "Maybe he wants to share another vision. I'm not sure."

Sansa became intrigued. Another vision? What could it be this time? Then again it might not be. The answer would be unknown until she got there. Sansa paused and stood in a momentary mood of annoyance wondering if this was to be the future relationship between her brother now. Any time in the future that he wanted to see her, she would be stuck wondering if it was for some mystical moments of his powers, or simply just to talk.

There were several tasks Sansa had on her plate, from issuing the necessary proclamations for the regency of the Westerlands to writing Lady Olenna about Loras' condition. It was a miracle that his leg was saved, but it would be lame for the rest of his life, needing a brace and cane to walk. In spite of this, Loras refused to accept an honorable dismissal from his vow. Margaery's already lost so much, but at least she'll still have her brother. Perhaps Dany would help her find the difficult words of comfort for their friend. Finding her way outside, Sansa found Ser Wallace who had been assigned to Daenerys' guard this morning. "Ser Wallace," she called, "where is Daenerys?"

Wallace pointed to the gates. "Addressing her troops, your grace."

Sansa followed Wallace's direction and passed under the portcullis to find herself halted at the scene before her. Daenerys stood before the last of her Unsullied soldiers kneeling before her on the hillside as she addressed them in High Valyrian. At the front of the host before Daenerys was commander Grey Worm and Lady Missandei of Naath.

"Nyke ōregon aōha kivio naejot nyke tetan. Ñuha mōrī udrāzma naejot jeme iksis bona ao glaesagon va Hae dāero valoti se daor mentyr. Jurnegon syt se ābrar ao jaelagon syt isse lyks."

All the Unsullied arose in perfect unison.

"Īlon jaqiarzir ivīlībin glaesagon, jaqiarzus Dārȳs." Missandei said and the Unsullied stomped their spears into the dirt before their commander turned around and faced them.

"Se dovaogēdy kostagon ilagon gaomagon zȳhon egrio lo jaelza. Iksi dāez." silently, he kneeled before them all and set his shield and spear down on the ground ceremoniously. Dozens of the other Unsullied did as Grey Worm had done, laying down their arms but also removing their helms and setting them on their shields before standing up. By the end of it, less than a quarter of the Unsullied gathered had not laid down their arms.

Daenerys' voice broke over her soldiers. "Iksan lēda rigle naejot emagon issare given aōha pazavor nēdenkī se pāsagon. Kirimvose." The host finally broke their formation, both the unarmed and those still with their shields and spears, marched out of the courtyard leaving the armaments behind. Daenerys met with Grey Worm and Missandei privately, talking over and then hugging both of them before laying a kiss on their cheeks. Both of them bowed before Daenerys once more before turning and leaving with the rest of the Unsullied.

With the formality done, Sansa came up to Daenerys to find clarity. "Are they leaving?" She asked, assuming based on the way both parties had been acting and conveying their words.

"Those who wish to lead new lives in the free world finally can. They don't have to be weapons any more."

A smile graced Sansa's face. "I had always thought they would serve as a household guard for the Crown." She shrugged. "But I think what you've given them is a far better path."

Dany chuckled, kissing her cheek. "Those who have chosen to remain will be part of a new force who will train others just as strong but without the cruel initiations they once had to commit."

"Naturally." Sansa shuddered. "Some traditions are best left to die."

Dany nodded. "I'm going to have quite the headache finding the best role for the Dothraki that are staying as well. A khalasar would not be much welcome to the governed lands as compared to the freedoms of the Great Grass Sea."

"And Missandei?"

"It's time she found her home with the one she loves, and the family she was taken from." Daenerys smiled as warm tears streamed down her face. "I'm happy to have her as my friend, Sansa."

Reaching up, Sansa wiped away the tears and kissed her wife softly on her lips. "We'll see her again, that I know."

"Yes," Daenerys chuckled, "I'm acting like this was the last time, when likely she'll be a fixture at court." She sniffed and collected herself.

"Come on," Sansa said, "Bran needs to see us in the Godswood."

"So that's why I saw Jon go there then. What could it be for though?"

"We'll find out together."

Walking away from the remnants of the Unsullied's release of service as the younger boys began to collect the shields, spears, and helms, Sansa and Daenerys entered into the silence of the godswood and found Jon waiting at the heart tree with Bran. The two men were talking together, though while Bran was smiling hopefully at Jon, the latter remained brooding as ever.

"What is it?" Sansa asked.

Jon turned to face them, revealing eyes red from tears and a hopeful gaze behind them but he said nothing.

Bran moved his cloak from his lap and revealed the broken pieces of a sword. It was Dark Sister, only now the steel had rusted, something that should have been impossible for Valyrian steel.

"This is all that's left of him. But no spirit lives on in metal, just the scars."

Daenerys nodded once. "Then we should destroy the pieces, every memory of that demon."

"No," Bran shook his head, "I want these to be buried. Not for the Night King, but for the man he used to be. It wasn't his choice to become twisted into a weapon." His fingers brushed the rusted hilt. "He was a Stark once, and when he was lost, a tomb was made deep within the crypts but there is nothing inside. Now there can be."

Jon was the one to take the pieces and the cloth from Bran. "That's a good choice, Bran. But where is the tomb?"

"In the deepest depths, beyond the passages blocked off by crumbling stone. I've already sent men down there to clear the way. When it is done and you're ready, Summer will guide you."

Bran remained in the Godswood as the three royals retreated indoors from the snow, finding peace in the library.

"Do you think Bran's right?" Sansa asked. "That we should bury the pieces? The sword could be reforged for House Targaryen again."

Daenerys cocked her head at the idea. "I still think the pieces should be destroyed." It was odd coming from her of all people since Dark Sister rightfully belonged to her. "After everything I've seen, I wouldn't be surprised if somehow these cursed objects become items of dark powers. Maybe not in our lifetimes, but in another thousand years or so, the world may see the start of another monster because of those," she pointed to the pieces that rested on the table, where Jon stood looking at them.

It wasn't that absurd of a thought. Maybe one day someone could figure out how to warp evil and chaos of an unprecedented scale with a cursed sword. But then again, Sansa still had to disagree. "I believe that the prophecy was fulfilled. The dragon ended the war as we were destined to. The Night King is forever gone."

Daenerys paused for a moment, but nodded just the same. Both of them looked over to Jon who remained as he had been, observing the pieces.

"What are you thinking about?" Daenerys asked.

Jon reached down and picked up the hilt of Dark Sister, only an index finger's length of the blade remained on it. "I used to play with Robb about being Aemon the Dragonknight, wielding this very sword into adventure and glory," he said with a hint of a smile, a real one and not what he wore to the crowds. "This sword's legacy has been part of the honorable and the cruel throughout time. Destroying it just cements what its end was, the tool of the Night King." He set the hilt down and looked at both of them. "Let it end with respect."

His words were so calm yet so powerful. Nothing more was needed to be said.

Together, Jon, Daenerys, Sansa, Ser Wallace, and Ser Brienne took solace into the crypts of Winterfell. They descended into the untouched crypts and the darkness within. Brienne held her torch aloft, light the way from behind as they all followed Summer with faith in his direction.

The statues of the old Kings of the North changed, the carving and style was far different, more simple and not well depictions of the men within. It was truly an ancient place and silence and reverence.

They must have walked for half an hour. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but Summer had finally come to a halt in front of a tomb. The statue in front was made similarly to the many before, but it was enough to captivate everyone.

"It's him," Jon whispered, wandering over to the tomb itself and looking at the name inscribed on the stone lid. "I can't read these runes."

Sansa almost questioned why, recalling that it was his knowledge of the Old Tongue that translated the key piece of the prophecy, before she remembered unfortunately that the Jon who could was gone.

Brienne and Wallace pushed open the end of the lid enough to see and reach inside. Just like Bran said, there was no body within. There were, however, some things inside as offerings of respect. A gray cloak folded with a bronze pin of a direwolf, far different looking than the one upon the Stark banners, surrounded by winter roses, so long dead that a single touch would turn them to dust. But on the cloak itself was a letter, folded but not sealed.

Sasna thought to reach in and see it for herself, but Jon lightly touched her hand when she moved to reach and shook his head.

"I don't think whatever's written is meant for us, even if we knew how to read it."

Sansa nodded, retracting herself and stood back with Daenerys and Brinne in silent respect as Jon gently lowered down the pieces of Dark Sister in the tomb. When all was done, Daenerys spoke up. "Should anybody say anything?"

They all looked at each other with the same expression, wondering what was there to be said? They didn't know the man's life before he became the Night King, only that he was a Stark. Without any ideas, Brienne and Wallace sealed the tomb. They decided instead to have a moment of silence, offering their condolences and prayers to the Gods each of them were brought under.

Once the silence was finished, Daenerys and Sansa each took a few steps to start their journey back to the surface, but stopped when Jon didn't follow.

Jon placed his hand on the tomb and whispered softly. "Rest now and dream of spring."

Jon

From atop the balcony overlooking the training yard, Jon watched silently as Rickon held his new blade steady in hand and sparred with Ser Podrick Payne. His little brother had exceptional footwork and was doing perfect at keeping his eyes on his opponent instead of his sword.

If only his wounds were healed, he could be down there teaching him instead. But it was alright. Rickon was home, he was safe, they were all safe now.

Taking his leave from watching his brother, Jon walked across the balcony, leaning on the railing to support his body in its weak state. He wandered over to the areas overlooking the western courtyard, at the people of his home working and living as pleasantly as they had been the day he left Winterfell before the wars.

It was almost as if he never left for the Wall that day. The joy was also a pain in Jon's heart that he could not stay in the one place he had left to call home and mean it. Castle Black and the Wall were gone, and King's Landing would never be what it was like in the North.

Jon turned away from the sight of his people, leaving them to continue wandering through the castle one last time before he would once again say goodbye.

When Jon came to the south gate, he was surprised to see that among the southern caravan preparing for the long journey to the other kingdoms, there were many of the Free Folk segregated in preparing their own caravan as well.

Getting down to the courtyard, Jon met Tormund just as the great ginger heaved a giant sack of grain over his shoulders into the back of a cart. It was still a damn funny sight to see his friend without his thick beard. Tormund looked too civilized for the True North now.

"You're leaving?" Jon asked.

"Aye," Tormund nodded almost apologetically, "the dead are gone, we don't have to be afraid to live in our home anymore."

Jon thought he heard wrong. "After all that effort to get south?"

"To some of us, those lands are worth more than anywhere else in the world. But don't worry, I'm only leading a handful of us back when the rest reach the Gift. Sigorn and his Thenns are staying with your kin at Karhold. Good riddance."

Jon huffed a laugh. "If Rickard was still alive he'd ignite with fury. I'm surprised Alys is willing."

"Have you really forgotten so much?" Tormund shrugged. "Your Lady Karstark and Sigorn wed before the battle. Leapt over flames and all when they danced. It was quite an amazing night."

"Hey!" Jon and Tormund looked over to one of the wagons being loaded. The Hound had just lifted two heavy sacks of grain. "We're waiting on you, so just kiss his dick already and get back to work."

"Dick?" Tormund asked.

"Cock." The Hound growled.

"Ah… Dick, I like it."

"Bet you do," the Hound grumbled and went back to helping the Wildings load up the last of their supplies.

Jon shivered a bit. There was something very familiar about that. "He goes with you?"

"Didn't say why, just said that he was, but I can guess he wants to get far from the lordly doings like we do. No kings, no lords, only freedom out there."

If only that luxury could be extended to anyone. Jon looked at the Free Folk finishing the last of their work loading their wagons. "I wish I could go with you."

Tormund nodded, "if things were different, I'd wish it too. You're a good friend, Jon." The two of them embrace in a great hug. Ten years ago, Jon never would have imagined that a Wildling of all people would become one of his most trusted friends, or that he would feel sad that he wasn't staying south of the Wall. "Good luck."

"You too," Jon watched as Tormund gathered together with the other chieftains of the Free Folk and started to turn away, but the booming voice of the ginger erupted into the entire courtyard.

"Free Folk!" Tormund exclaimed. "Our war is over! Our great enemy is gone! Our lands are free!" He turned around and faced Jon. "And it is because of a crow who stood by us, fought for us, and died for us. We say farewell, and thank you to the King Behind the Wall, Jon Snow."

Slowly, Tormund sank down to one knee and bowed his head down. He was alone at first, but the other chieftains began doing the same, kneeling before Jon until all the Free Folk gathered were joined together.

"We will always remember all that you have done for us." Tormund finally said before standing up. "Now let's go home!" He shouted, and all the Free Folk mounted their wagons and horses before setting off.

Jon had been frozen the entire time even after the Free Folk had departed for their home. They do not kneel, ever. That was their greatest freedom was never knowing a ruler like the people of the south do. It was a symbol of shame to them, subjecting oneself completely to the mercy of another. But then and now, they did it, but not for that reason, Jon knew. It was the opposite in fact.

"Farewell," Jon whispered before he finally departed from the northern gate to the southern where the Royal entourage for King's Landing was also prepared to leave for Whiteharbor and then King's Landing. Daenerys was talking with Lord Andar Royce sullenly about something while Sansa was saying her farewell to Rickon and Podrick.

He looked up at the gates, at the Stark Banner fluttering in the wind. All he ever wanted for nearly his entire life was forever out of reach now.

"Are you ready?" asked Sansa as she came next to him.

Honestly, Jon shook his head. "No, I'm not. Going south, being a king…" How could anyone be ready for such a life thrust upon them? "I don't want it."

Sansa sighed. "It's not fair to any of us. I lost my husband, but my brother lives. The war is won, but you're chained to a new life…" She was thinking about something, a hard choice it seemed. "What if you stayed here? Just for a while so you can come to terms-"

"Stop," Jon said, touching her shoulder. "I don't want a crown or a throne. I don't want a castle or a keep. I just want my name, my home, and my life. If I have given it to you and Daenerys, then that's where I'll be." He took a deep breath. "I can't believe what I have done just yet… but part of me remembers in a way I can't explain. I just need time."

Sansa smiled and hugged him softly. Jon hugged her back, not finding himself withdrawn by the reality of the situation for the first time. He had Bran to thank for it as it was his power that gave him what he needed to persevere through this new future ahead of him.

"Is everything alright?" Daenerys asked, looking lovingly at the two of them.

"Yes," Jon said, "so long as we're together."

"What is it you wanted to talk about, Bran?" Jon asked, not two hours ago in the Godswood before Daenerys and Sansa would join them to settle the fate of Dark Sister.

"Nothing yet. There's someone else who you need to speak to first. Probably the only person who can help you." Bran extended a hand out to Jon. "Come with me." He placed his other hand on the heartree and his eyes turned that pure white like Orell's did when he warged into his eagle.

Hesitant at first, Jon inevitably took Bran's hand and felt both icy and burning sensations run through his mind. He blinked suddenly, and the godswood had remarkably changed from day to night, but Bran was gone. How long had he been standing there?

No, something was different… there was that feeling in the back of his mind that all people had when they dreamed, the part that finally knew it was a dream just before waking up and forgetting.

Around the heart tree in the dark were the Children of the Forest, except there was one more than he met. But on the other side of the tree, he saw a man kneeling before it, someone he recognized all too well and yet he had never met before. But he knew the name of the man there.

"Aegon Targaryen," he whispered and the reflection of the man he dreamt he was in death raised his head. Jon almost gasped. Did Aegon hear him speak?

"I know you're there," Aegon said softly among the ambient silence of falling snow. "And I feel in my heart who you are…" He smiled. "So this is what becomes of us… of you…" He looked as though he was about to laugh but fell somber immediately. "You're probably feeling as lost as I did once. You've awoken to find yourself as a King instead of a Brother of the Watch, a Targaryen instead of a bastard Stark, and a husband to a pair of women who love you but you don't know why."

Jon circled around, Standing right next to Aegon.

"This is where our paths differ, Jon. I can truly imagine how you feel about this, as I once felt it myself and it was the worst mistake I ever made. I know you can't accept this and embrace your real name yet. But I also know that you are still a man of honor. I can only hope this gives you some form of peace and courage as you go on, so now, all I can do is ask you to keep striving onward, no matter the course. Lead a good life with a shining spirit. Not for House Targaryen or House Stark, but for you." Aegon turned so that he was facing Jon and set his hand on Jon's shoulder, smiling. "I believe in you, Jon."

Jon felt as though a great cloud pushed through his body as he blinked and suddenly night had turned to day, the Children and Aegon were gone, and Bran had returned. The dream had ended. Taking in a breath, tears streamed down his cheeks that he did not have the desire to wipe away.