Sansa

Thousands of tents were erected outside the castle walls once before when Sansa was a little girl, when her father gathered soldiers to fight the Greyjoys, but that was a small force compared to what was there now. It was like a city had been born in a day that stretched out all the way to Winter Town. The sight alone made her wonder if this was the second time in the history of Westeros an army this great had gathered, for she had never heard nor read from story or history of any other.

No time could be spent to linger on the magnificence of the army's magnitude. It had only turned to the second day of Sansa's return to Winterfell, and she had her tasks still ahead of her.

"Forgive me, my lady," said the young man, looking as if he were barely old enough to shave, let alone lead his House of the Riverlands into battle. "Yer' sayin' we can't use steel?"

Gathered before her outside the Winterfell forges were dozens of Lords, knights, and captains, all those not of the North or ones that had fought with Jon at the God's Eye Hunt, Sansa truly felt outside of her depth. She was no soldier, no warrior. She had never been raised as close to one by her mother and father, and unlike Arya she never intended to include herself in battle. Yes, Sansa had taken part in the Battle of Driftmark but in truth Viserion had done most of the work, and what guidance she had contributed was… minimal, if not then nothing. All she could remember were the intentions she had when riding her dragon.

Burn that ship there.

Dive.

Turn.

Evade the ball of fire.

Burn them over there, don't let them escape.

Whatever skills it took to ride a dragon successfully, Sansa knew it had little to do with martial prowess. War was not her domain, but here she was speaking to the men who belonged to it, talking to them about the coming battle with the Army of the Dead. One of the many situations she'd never expected herself to be in, but compared to marrying the man who was once her brother, falling in love with the daughter of the Mad King, or even becoming a dragonrider, this was rather tame.

As such, she bore it with the confidence of her station. "Only if you hack the dead into a dozen bits and pieces, Lord Piper. Steel will be ineffective against our foe compared to what they are weak against."

"Is that why the Baratheon boy is telling our men to turn over all their weapons?!" Lord Roland Crakehall was a proud man, a pride that Tommen's surrender of the Iron Throne did not humble.

"Not turn over," Sansa clarified to him firmly, but with respect. They were all in the same boat now, regardless of the past. Jon had taught her that. "We have fashioned better weapons to be exchanged for what would be otherwise cumbering flourishings to one's armor."

Many listened with… skepticism, but increasing horror as well. She didn't want to believe it too, but as with her it was sinking in. "So we're to trust in weapons made from obsidian then?" That was Lord Mallister, once a knight in Robb's service. Edmure always spoke well of him.

Sansa gave him a hopeful smile. "Dragonglass."

"Dragonglass," Ser Gunthor Hightower repeated. He was the most learned man there, having the Citadel itself to teach him during his youth. Unlike his older brother, Ser Baelor, he hadn't borne witness to the wight demonstration in court as befitting the heir of the Hightower. "Our ancestors used those for spears and arrows, but 'tis a brittle material."

Beside Sansa, Samwell Tarly cleared his throat. "Dragonglass kills wights. One stab stops them cold… Valyrian steel is best and fire works as well. The King has had dragonglass weapons being made since before he took the throne." Also not a natural fighting man, he had more experience than Sansa. Reaching to his belt, he pulled out a dagger of the shimmering black glass. "If you have your doubts, there are two wights in the Winterfell dungeons. We'll be slaying them tonight for all to see."

Sansa nodded. "If anyone does not wish to turn over their steel, they have every right to refuse and they will not be without protection. We have enough daggers to arm every man but a sword or spear's reach might make them more comfortable." She smiled, as if challenging them. Sansa knew how to stoke their competitive, indignant instincts.

Soon, they had departed, all except for Theon and his sister. Sansa had seen the two of them stick towards the back, waiting for her undivided attention while she and Sam spoke to the others. As such, she approached him warmly, disregarding the highborn facade to give him a hug. "I'm glad to see you well, Lady Sansa."

"Theon," Sansa said with a single look that she knew told her savior all he needed to know that she was always 'Sansa' to him. Few forgave him among the northmen, but Sansa had. "Lady Yara."

"Lady Sansa," she nodded her head. Everything she had once heard and seen of Lady Greyjoy showed she was indeed a headstrong woman, and a respected leader among her people. "I know we're not on the day of the war plan, but Theon advised it would be best to express our immediate thoughts to you as soon as we could."

She pursed her lips. "Go on, then."

"Most of our better fighters died during our father's invasion and the fighting between the fleets, and that includes the men who pledged to Euron. We're expecting a thousand conscripted from the Iron Islands in a few days, but they're green boys to swords and spears."

Listening, Sansa hadn't watched any naval warfare except from Viserion's back. As such, all she could do was simply accept Yara's word. "And what does that have to do with anything?"

Theon cleared his throat. "We'd like our men to be set as archers. They're good archers, none better than an Ironborn with a bow, and if the fight comes to us we can battle with dragonglass and fire, but formation fighting is not our strength. Better we help loosing arrows into the dead and helping the others."

Sansa, silent, turned to Sam. "Did you inquire with Maester Wolkan the sums of dragonglass equipment?"

Sam nodded. "I did. In fact I've met with the other maesters that oversaw the inventories of dragonglass production at their respective castles as well. More than one hundred fifty thousand arrowheads have been made and counting, however only a third have been fashioned into arrows and most of them were sent off to the Night's Watch-"

"What do you think you're still doing here?!" Sansa briefly clenched in her neck, clever and experienced enough to immediately know what could and was likely to happen. At the entrance to the great hall was her brother Rickon, accompanied by Lady Lyanna Mormont, Podrick Payne, and a few other Northmen, most importantly among them was Lady Barbrey and Lord Cerwyn. Rage was evident against Theon, and to a lesser extent Yara. Why they came to treat with Sansa was immaterial to them.

As having suffered more from Theon's betrayal than anyone with Bran, this was not going to be a calm encounter. "Rickon," Sansa addressed him. "I was just having a conversation with Lady and Lord Greyjoy about…"

"They should have left Winterfall's walls the moment they weren't needed around any longer." Lady Mormont had a good head on her shoulders, but she was as fierce as she was proud. All of that was on display here. "I demand they leave."

Oddly, Lady Yara became impressed. "You're a bear alright, girl. But still a cub."

Lyanna, Lord Cerwyn, and Barbrey all looked like they wanted to start yelling but Sansa lifted up her hand. "Enough, my Lords and Ladies." They glared at her, while Rickon merely stared at Theon quietly with clenched fists making him l shrink with guilt, eyes downcast. "We are all living in the face of White Walkers. Such squabbles are…"

"Theon," Rickon said, interrupting Sansa. "kneel down."

Theon did so, timidly. His eyes were lowered to the ground as Rickon stepped up to him.

"Look at me," Rickon demanded.

Theon's eyes peered eye to eye with Rickon and he was ashamed. Rickon then threw a punch at Theon's face. Yara and two ironborn guards that had accompanied them stepped forward but Theon held up a hand, stopping them. "Don't," he said, "whatever you do, don't." He straightened himself up only to get punched in the face again. This happened several more times. Rickon wasn't very strong, but Theon's face was starting to bruise a little and there was a cut on his cheek.

"That," Rickon said through seething teeth from the pain in his fists, "was for everyone you betrayed and killed. I won't forgive you like Jon and Sansa have, ever. If you die in the battle to come, I'll be happy that justice found you like you deserve." Sansa saw him tremble, emotion overwhelming him. "And If you live, I never want to see you in the North ever again, or else I'll take your head like King Robert should have done to your stupid father. Do you understand me?"

Theon nodded and his whole body shivered. "I do, my lord."

"Then get out of my sight. I don't want to look at you more than I have to-"

"Rickon," Sansa said and Rickon threw a sharp look at her, "I understand your anger, but do not let yourself fall beneath our name."

Rickon looked back at Theon. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Theon nodded, almost like a shiver. "I'm sorry, for all of it."

Her brother did not seem mollified, and while Sansa's feelings on Theon were dominated by how he had saved her from Ramsay as Stannis' army distracted the Bolton guards, she did not truly blame Rickon for feeling this way. Bran and Rickon… their agony had been Theon's doing, not to mention the blow to Robb's prestige by how he double crossed the northmen. Part of her wished to punish him for his betrayal, but Ramsay had certainly punished him enough. Sansa knew for sure his efforts were the worst sort of punishment. "You are not compelled to associate with him, or even see him, brother. Their aid is invaluable to us all."

"Aid from an Ironborn," Lyanna Mormont scoffed. She was a smart girl, but in attitude she and Rickon seemed to share a mind. "They may be allies of the Dragon Queen, but that doesn't mean their words and promises are strong as steel. When has there ever been a time when they respected honor above their pleasure to reave and rape?"

"Our alliance with Queen Daenerys was promised with the end of the Iron Way," Yara said calmly but with a hand that had gone unnoticed to the head of the axe on her hip. "When we return to the Iron Islands, I will usher in a new age for my people, one we have never been wise enough to try until now. We will seek peace with those we have wronged, first and foremost the North and House Stark."

Rickon's brow rose as he eyed Lyanna. The two youths seemed to speak silently. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

Sansa had a bad feeling about this, but Theon had the right to make his say.

Their former ward brother cleared his throat. "Yara is willing to offer one hundred of the carracks and galleys of my uncle's fleet to the North, restoring what Brandon the Burner destroyed."

Rickon folded his arms and his brow arched up, clear with interest. "And that's it? We get some ships and all is forgiven?"

Yara cocked her head at Rickon. "We want to start anew with the Northern People, not as former enemies, but new friends. Euron's quest for a fantasy nearly bled our resources dry. My people need help if we are to continue on as more than what we used to be. Sea Dragon Point and the Stony Shore are the most vacant lands in the whole of the North-"

An uproar ensued. "You'd have us give you land?!" Rickon yelled. His sentiment was shared by many, including those reasonable souls who understood the current reality like Barbary Dustin. Sansa herself didn't follow why Yara would insist on this condition.

"Asking for land, my lord," Yara clarified, "and for help. The ships of the Iron Fleet are the greatest in the world, but they are all I have to offer." The soon to be Queen of the Ironborn was actually starting to sound fearful and desperate in her words, but only just.

"You and your people caused terrible amounts of death and destruction to us. Our coffers were nearly emptied recovering what you and the Boltons did."

"Our islands have no mines with riches, only copper and iron."

"Do not tell me that Euron Greyjoy hasn't plundered a vast wealth of loot and treasure from his time of piracy. You will compensate the North or be ignored."

Sansa blinked. "Brother, don't be hasty…"

"Do you consider yourself a daughter of the North or not?" Lyanna Mormont's voice was biting. "Do you intend to repudiate the words given to me at Bear Island?"

This girl was a true northern woman of her house. Fierce and fearless. Sansa could respect that, even if it was annoying and counterproductive at times. "The world King Aegon, Queen Daenerys, and I will build is a new one. More unified and responsive to the needs of its people than before. Eddard Stark, taught me the crimes of the father may not be taken out upon the children…"

"The Ironborn crimes are his!" yelled Lord Cerwyn.

"They may be," she shot back, "but the future children of ourselves and Ironborn will not. If we do not leave our own pains behind and away from our children, it won't end. It's up to us to choose to be better." Proclamation made, she turned to Rickon, perfectly prepared to make her first true judgment as a Targaryen Queen and dragonrider of Stark blood. "Lord Stark, I insist you allow yourself to calm down and seek an audience with Lady Greyjoy another day after you have thought upon the words we have all exchanged here."

His brow rose.

"Please?" She asked.

Rickon's lips pursed and his eyes darted between spots to the ground until finally he looked back up at her. "No. I cannot allow the Ironborn to own land on our soil. We had an ocean that separated us, and now I'm asked to trade that barrier for a line that's only seen on a map." He shook his head, hand going to the hilt of the dagger he wore, making Sansa's eyes widen. "A line in the sand, if the Ironborn try to claim land on our coast then there will be war."

"What's happening here?" All eyes turned and relief washed over Sansa as the King and Dragon Queen entered through the corridor between the courtyard and the open grounds outside the forges. Sansa walked calmly to them, and kissed Jon's cheek and pecked Dany's lips. Best to show that the three were always united.

"Nothing," Lady Yara said sternly, "Unfortunately, nothing." She, Theon, and the other two Ironborn with them departed in silence but the air was still stained with the bitter salt between everyone.

"What was going on?" Jon pressed again.

"As lord of the North," Rickon said, "it's my concern to handle and I don't wish to add to your troubles, your grace."

It still hasn't sinked in for Sansa that years of being on his own had made Rickon impatient and emotional at times.

"Since I have your attention finally," Rickon said to Jon, his tone almost suddenly changing from flustered to optimistic, "there's something I need to tell you about that affects us all."

Jon looked at him curiously. "And what would that be?"

"Everyone here has been working nonstop for moons. Training, gathering, stockpiling, more training… they're exhausted, and I can see that just about all of them are losing hope despite our efforts. So to fight this hopelessness, I have made the arrangements to host a festival in Winterfell to celebrate the things we live for."

A festival? On how big a scale would it have to accommodate the vast population of people and soldiers at Winterfell?

Jon was about to say something, but Daenerys beat him to it.

"I think Lord Rickon's idea is an excellent one."

All looked at Daenerys. "You do?" Rickon's eyes lit up.

Jon crossed his arms, a silent gesture waiting for an explanation.

She cleared her throat. "In Meereen, the moderate faction of the wealthy still remaining requested that I reopen the fighting pits, only instead of slaves fighting it would be free men fighting for prize and glory. I opposed the idea of unnecessary bloodshed, but freeborn and freedman alike clamored for the festivities and I couldn't deny them that."

"They sound awful," Sansa commented.

"To me they were, but after making orders that mercy was to be used and all blades to be blunted, they are still in operation." She looked at everyone. "The people… smallfolk and highborn alike need something real in front of them. Something other than drudgery or fear motivating them. They need their spirits uplifted and be reminded of what they are fighting for. I did." She reached out for Sansa's hand, then Jon's. "For the longest time it was the Iron Throne, but now it is the prospect of my family, and the chance for us to truly bring needed change. It is time that the rest of us be reminded of that as well."

"Well said," Sansa remarked. "Jon?"

Faced with a pair of blue eyes and a pair of violet eyes both pleading with him, the stoic King caved. "Make it so. We have time."

When he was upset and angry before, now there was an exuberant energy in Rickon that Sansa hadn't seen since she had left Winterfell with her father and Robert's retinue. "You won't be disappointed!" He rushed off with Podrick chasing close behind him. Lady Mormont had a smile on her face and followed. Barbery shook her head while Lord Cerwyn, silent for the whole time, simply chuckled as the two of them left.

"He finally looks happy," Jon murmured, as if stunned. And saddened that it surprised him so.

Guided into one of the side corridors leading to the courtyard, Sansa checked to make sure they had privacy before sighing. "There's great wariness in Rickon… he's matured greatly but I see the stress of everything is leading him close to the edge." Would the pain to befall House Stark never end? With her marriage soon and her aunt Lyanna's marriage, House Targaryen was bound to that as well. "I fear what happens if he falls."

"All of us went through similar hardships and growing pains, Sansa," Jon said softly. "Rickon has support and is finding his own strength that others are starting to see in him."

She looked up at Jon. Knowing where he came from, both his experiences of their shared past and the ones… only he bore. Sansa understood it, but such a coldness nevertheless broke her heart. "We endured that, yes. In King's Landing, you at the Wall, and Daeneys in Essos. Those lessons nearly killed us, and I'd rather Rickon at least be spared the worst parts. He won't be worse off for it." She had an idea, locking eyes with Dany.

"Jon," Daenerys put her arm on his shoulder, "I think you owe it to your brothers to spend some time with them. I could see just how much Rickon looks up to you, some bonding time might help ease his stress. And with a new sword, he needs the best teacher to show him how to wield it."

"Take Bran too… and Gendry, given he and Arya's closeness." She smirked, causing Dany to grin, especially at Jon's frown. "At least you don't need to take out a goodbrother that I bring to the picture."

"I'll kill anyone who tries to claim that title." His gaze softened to a bit of a smile as both ladies giggled at his silliness. "What about you two?"

Daenerys wrapped her arm around Sansa's. "I have some lessons of my own to teach. If Sansa's going to ride Viserion, then she better get in more practice." The words brought a smile to Sansa's lips - though the smile was hollow. Masking the apprehension in the pit of her stomach.

He eyed Sansa carefully. "I remember when I first… practiced with Daenerys. Make sure you hold on tight, and to land soon, at least for now. May I suggest… the place father used to take us to west of here, for when the summer snows hit us." A wink, to which Sansa understood quickly, nodding with a smile. Jon smiled in return, kissing her cheek before turning to Daenerys. "Alright. You both be careful." He kissed her cheek and walked off, leaving the women alone.

"He's so handsome when he smiles," Daenerys said, sighing in a happiness Sansa knew all too well. "Come, we have work to do."

Sansa's arm tightened around Daenerys' as the feelings of fear and dread of the excitement and rush of riding a dragon gripped at her. All of it had happened so suddenly the first time, without the ability to truly think about it till it was over. It shouldn't be so bad this time though, right? There wouldn't be catapults launching balls of fire at her, or roars of other dragons fighting nearby to shake her to her core. She was home, there was nothing to fear.

And yet there was no urgent, critical danger that demanded Viserion to act. To which he needed a rider. Without that urgency, would he be near as accepting of a Stark without the blood of the dragon to ride him?

The feelings of bravery were easier imagined than held true when Sansa and Daenerys were face to face with the dragons at their nesting ground on the hills. Charred skeletons rounded them of every sort of wild and domesticated creature of the North. Even a large whale skeleton, and they were quite far from the sea. Such powerful creatures invoked such a panoply of terrifying emotions, it was hard to think straight.

Her beautiful companion seemed to read her mind - or perhaps it was written on her face. "It'll be alright," Daenerys said, "Viserion will take care of you."

"I just…" Sansa took a deep breath, trying to still her nerves. It didn't work. "I can't help but be nervous."

Daenerys giggled and leaned in. Kissing her softly on the lips, lingering until Sansa's eyes closed and they deepened it. Just like that, she pulled away, leaving Sansa slightly calmer. "Think of it this way. I am in the North for the first time, and since we've met you've spoken of how beautiful the North is. Lead me around your home, show me the realm you love."

The invitation calmed Sansa's beating heart. This was a chance to lead Daenerys and show her the place that meant the world to her, that meant the world to Jon, and flying on the dragons was Daenerys' way of doing the same. For this, she could get over her fear. "I can do that… you'll just have to follow me."

The Dragon Queen grinned, showing off her glittering smile that could lighten up the deepest darkness. "That should be simple enough" They let go of each other's hands and walked to their respective dragons.

Viserion is my dragon? It was a hard concept to grasp since she was a Stark, even after she saw the tapestry with Rhaenys looking back at her with the same face. From the way the amber eyes watched her with… an expression that didn't seem murderous or hungry, mayhaps he was hers.

The bronze beast snorted, sneezing it seemed. Not a bad reaction, she supposed.

Sansa wasn't a climber like Bran used to be, and nowhere near the rider, not of horses, dragons, but Viserion didn't move as she tried to scramble up and had many spots easy to step up and grab.

It worked out and before she knew it, she was mounted on the bronze dragon and gripping him tightly wherever she could. It felt a little awkward though, enough that she asked of all things hidden in the basements of dragonstone, why not any dragon saddles? She looked over to Daenerys and nodded. Finding her love already mounted comfortably on Drogon, smiling. "Now what?"

The smile turned into a smirk. "How did you manage before the battle of Dragonstone?"

"I Just held on and he did the rest," Sansa explained, "it was just instinct."

Daenerys giggled again. "Viserion is the calmest of my children. You are lucky that Jon took Rhaegal and left him for you." Sansa certainly didn't feel lucky. Perhaps she would if she was used to riding on dragonback, but for now the 'sweet Viserion' was still a massive dragon with a wingspan half the size of Winterfell. "I'll get us started, then you lead the way."

"How do I lead?" Sansa asked.

Daenerys shrugged. "Instinct."

That… wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear. "And if he flies too erratically? How do I stop from falling?"

"Simple, don't fall." The last Sansa saw from Daenerys was a grin at her scowl, the Dragon Queen shouting the word that led to Drogon hooting and ascending into the air.

"AAAAAAAHHH!" A scream tore from her lips as Viserion beat his massive wings, kicking up a massive cloud of smoke as he lurched into the air. All Sansa did was hold onto his spines for dear life. For being the calmest, the take off was faster than the first time.

The wind bracketed her face, Sansa's screams unable to be heard over their roar. She had thought she'd known cold, but nothing like the icy pinpricks slamming into her as Viserion gained more altitude with each wingbeat.

A thousand thoughts were racing through her head all at once. She was trying to think how to steer, if she was holding on tight enough, and what to look at in front of her, Viserion's head or the things in front.

Viserion's response to Sansa's exhilaration was a shriek, as if he was mocking her with amusement. Another powerful wingbeat sent him soaring through the thin clouds as the sun emerged.

She finally felt a bit of warmth, finally feeling the heat of the dragon's scales as Viserion leveled out. Hair undoubtedly a mess even with the thick braid she'd styled that morning, Sansa took a chance and peeked over Viserion's side. Never again. The world below was hazy from the cloud cover but still looked as if miniscule.

Suddenly a gust of air ripped into her, Sansa blinking as Daenerys shot up upon Drogon. Her silver hair fluttered behind her, undoubtedly a grin upon her lips as the two of them performed acrobatics in the sky.

The wind continued to whip all around her, but now it didn't bother Sansa. Her eyes narrowed, finding Daenerys. As if feeling her little superior sneer and imagining how she would mock her once they reached the ground. No, that wouldn't do at all.

"Lead by instinct," she muttered. Her fingers tightened her grip on Viserion and tried to steer him like the reins of a horse, guiding him to go down below the clouds. The dragon's response followed just like it, only instead of dropping down, he banked around, turning almost completely on his side and flying over Daenerys and Drogon. Then the dive began. They shot into the misty clouds and burst through below. They had only been about the clouds for a few seconds and already Winterfell was miles away, but it was impossible to tell which direction they went.

Sansa gritted her teeth, but the feelings of fear were lessened, her confidence at flying stokedher strength and… a fire even.

Seven hells, she was riding a dragon. How could she feel fear or worry while on the back of a dragon as they soared through the sky.

This, this was power. This was safety, no one ever being able to hurt her again.

A dragon was no slave, and now she was among them in the domain they ruled.

Sansa met Daenerys's gaze as Viserion settled alongside Drogon, almost wingtip to wingtip, a glittering smile unavoidable as she finally reclaimed all she had lost. Sansa, feeling quite the young girl again, extended her hands. Enjoying the wind in her face. "WOOOOOO!" She shouted, heart bursting with joy.

Even in the wind, she could hear Daenerys laugh merrily. Her joy was also palpable as the crossed over Winterfell. Sansa peered down and saw many faces looking back up. She tried to find familiar people and could swear she saw Arya looking up from the courtyard, imagining their was nothing but jealousy stricken on her face.

There were only three dragonriders in the entire world, her, and her two loves. It was a rush and she was done questioning it. Done thinking of what choices she made, for it was clear that Sansa had made the right ones.

Finding her bearings, they flew northwest and the cold started seeping through her cloak faster than the heat from Viserion's scales. Suddenly Sansa noticed a familiar place in the distant land.

Viserion flew down lower to the ground, no more than a tower's height from it. The force of his glide was enough to pick up brushes of snow from the treetops and whip it behind them. Drogon was flying right behind them, charging through cold spray in his face.

The dragons slowed as they came to a break in the woods next to a river surrounded by many large rocks. There was a perfect spot for the dragons to land next to the river and the steaming pools beside it.

Her legs shook as she eased herself down Viserion's spines, but overall her mood was excellent. Rejuvenated even. A merry smile on her lips when Viserion craned his neck around. "Was that fun?" Sansa managed to get out. Once her feet touched the ground, she let out a great sigh as her body calmed down and gave the dragon a small pet underneath his wings.

Gods, what Arya would say about this.

"Sansa!" She managed to turn when Daenerys hugged her tightly, peppering her cheek with kisses and happy laughter.

Such exuberance out of Daenerys contrasted with her Dragon Queen demeanor, and her own more gentle tone of voice, but Sansa adored it. For the fiery dragonrider, it fit well, a sign of who was underneath the mask of the Dragon Queen.

Sansa pecked her lips, a kiss that deepened before they merely kept their foreheads against the other. "Is it always like that?"

Daenerys nodded. "Today was even better than usual. The prophecy was right. You were destined for this."

Gods, it was heady. "Still shocking, being a Stark and all." Sansa pulled back, feeling her body deflate. "But mayhaps I should just be happy about it, as you are."

"More than happy." Only then did it seem that Daenerys noticed where they had landed. Wonder filling her violet eyes. "What is this place?" she asked reverently.

Sansa could not feel anything but joy at seeing Daenerys so happy, something that this place had always given House Stark when it was whole. "One of my favorite places, the entire family's, one we visited whenever we could."

It was a clearing, carved out of a thick part of the Wolfswood. In the middle was a river that ran down a hill of rocks with steam constantly rising off the surface of a large pool of water to the side of it. "Is this a hot spring?" Daenerys asked.

"One of many, but the closest to Winterfell." Sansa shrugged. "We came here often in the winter, and during summer snows. It can get a bit chilly then too."

"Why am I not surprised?" Daenerys giggled, suddenly grabbing Sansa's hand. "I suppose you swam here."

"More times than I can count." She lead Daenerys closer, climbing the snow where there was a trail. Being here again for the first time since… likely weeks before King Robert's arrival was a surreal experience. Everything changed, but from the happiness in her heart it seemed as if the atmosphere of the hot spring hadn't. Joy then, joy now, only the faces changed. "Everyone used to come here," she stated as the temperature increased near the water, "My parents, Robb, Jon, Arya… all my other siblings. I remember Rickon being too scared to go to the deep parts." Wonderful memories.

They reached the edge and Sansa knelt down to dip her hand in the water. The temperature was perfect. She looked up at Daenerys when their eyes met, each knew they shared the same desire to do more than just ogle at the steamy waters. "Come," Sansa walked to a small collection of oak trees that gave the perfect covering from the weather.

Daenerys removed her white coat and worked at the knots of her hair, letting it fall loose against her shoulders as Sansa did the same with her cloak and dress. This one was relatively easier to get out of than her southern attire, being more like a robe almost. But when her skin was free, the cold did bring its chill.

Daenerys was also starting to shiver when she was down to her small clothes. "Should we run?"

Sansa smiled and quickly stripped from everything else with Daenerys and the two of them ran as quickly as they could, almost jumping into the warm waters, sighing in relief at the heat.

"I can see why your family came here." Daenerys pushed forward until she was deep enough to swim, dipping her head underneath and rising out with glistening skin.

"It was wondrous after a long day's ride or hike… or anytime in the winter," Sansa said as she followed, diving underneath and letting the hot water touch every inch of her body. She came up for air, taking in the rush of warm and steam.

"Tell me, did you ever accompany another boy here? Call it curiosity."

Sansa shook her head. "Not at all. My mother would have hanged any boy who did try to come with us. Not even Robb could be saved from that."

"Any girls? Arya and your mother do not count."

Blue eyes sparkling, Sansa shrugged her shoulders. "A few of my friends. Jeyne Poole and Beth Cassel, sometimes the visiting Northern ladies. The Manderly sisters, I do remember coming."

"Oh, them. They were pretty girls."

Sansa smiled, reminiscing. "Aye, very pretty."

Daenerys' silver brow rose in annoyance. "Must I worry, then?"

"Are you jealous, Dragon Queen?" Sansa stifled a snicker.

"Should I be?" Her voice was low, almost menacing. She was showing the type of fierce woman that someone like Joffrey was afraid of and someone like Ramsay would enjoy grinding down.

Smirking, Sansa touched her toes to the bottom, the water level resting just above her breasts, and walked over to Daenerys, wrapping her arms round the shorter girl's waist. "Mayhaps you should. I like you like this."

The scowl deepened, though Daenerys's eyes grew softer. "Dragons don't share their mates, Sansa. I claimed both you and Jon, just as he claimed us. I want no other pretty girls or handsome boys around either of you."

"Oh? You say that but keep the company of Missandei." Sansa enjoyed Daenerys's blink of confusion. "Is she not beautiful?"

"That's different," Daenerys laughed at the confusion. "Missandei is indeed one of the most beautiful women I have known, but our hearts belong to others. I do not look to hear for such desires."

"Neither do I at my friends, only you and Jon." She leaned down and connected their lips, warmth spreading as they embraced tightly. Enjoying the moment.

It wasn't like it was when Sansa was last here. No splashing fights with Arya and her friends, no trying to leap on her and dunk her underwater, such fights between them only for fun and with enjoyment between the both of them. No fake scolding from her mother only for her to join in. No, those memories were safely their own, without challenge from the current delights she experienced.

Here, it wasn't as explosive, not as frantic in merriment. Their lives were exciting enough, plenty of thrills and danger occuring. No, Daenerys and Sansa merely enjoyed the relaxing swim together, dancing around each other with tender smiles and appreciative grins. Jon wasn't here, and they missed him greatly, but in the end Sansa was alright about that. Today was hers with Daenerys, all to herself.

Three heads of the Dragon, both apart and as one. Just as Daenerys had her memories alone with him, and Sansa her memories alone with him, it was proper and lovely to have memories of each other together. Filling in what was always supposed to happen… only for it not to in the past that Jon endured.

Compared with this, of the warmth of the water and the beloved companionship, her life in Jon's past had been bleak. Lifeless. A void of petty ambitions and vicious paranoia that left her worn and hollow inside - the same voice that had spoken with her prior to all the battles in King's Landing. Each time Daenerys snuck under the water to pinch at Sansa's rear, or when Sansa reciprocated with a brush of her foot against Daenerys's breasts did Sansa remember just how it could've been.

All of this denied to herself, Jon as well as Daenerys, replaced with a disrespect and loathing respectively that made her into Cersei. A woman without any sort of joy.

It was here that Daenerys finally found her, a tear falling down her cheek into the water. No words needed to be said, the dragon queen merely kissing her. Sansa cupping her cheek in return and looking into her eyes. Saying everything while saying nothing.

All was fine.

That past was no more.

They had changed it, her, Daenerys, and Jon. Changed it enough to save Bran and Rickon, and so many others from a gruesome, hollow fate.

The kisses grew into their own. Surrounded by the water as warm as their own passion, Sansa lost herself to the moment. Their kisses doubled in ardor, hands journeying with a growing familiarity with each other's bodies and self-taught expertise not present the last time they coupled alone. She felt sparks coarse throughout her body deliciously at every touch, Daenerys working her lips from her mouth to her neck and then up to her ear, floating in the water as she whispered sweet nothings of love and lust that left Sansa desperate.

To a surprised gasp, Daenerys melded herself closer to Sansa as the redhead entered her with her fingers. A gasp Sansa mirrored when Daenerys reciprocated.

"Daenerys," Sansa felt a jolt of pleasure when she felt her lover move fiercer inside of her. The surprise made her do the same in Daenerys.

"Dany," Daenerys breathed, "call me Dany," she moaned.

The two kissed again, Sansa grinning against Daenerys's lips as she reached down and cupped her perfectly shaped rear. Holding her in place, pressing their chests against each other. "I love you Dany," Sansa breathed as she was reaching her peak.

"Sansa," Daenerys' kiss probed her mouth, roaming with her tongue and dueling with Sansa's as the heat grew around them, even warming the water. " I love you too." Aye, it was nothing like her memories, apart from the joy.

That was all that mattered.