Here, have this.

Reviews and criticism are welcome.

A/N: Sorry for the wait.

Theon

"So what's this thing?" Theon held up the parchment. On it was the design of some weird clipper thing. Maester Luwin huffed and snatched it away.

"Something that could aid women throughout the Seven Kingdoms greatly. Now quit touching Lady Sansa's papers." The old man muttered as his chain rattled around his neck. Theon continued to look at the drawing. Sansa's drawing was very detailed. Theon hadn't said it aloud, not that he ever would, but her hammer was a marvel. So even he was curious what other things she could draw up. This didn't sound all too impressive at a glance.

"What does it do?" Theon said curiously. Unconsciously he ran a hand in the sheath of his Stark Knife as everyone had been calling them. It was a good knife with a polished ebony handle and golden kraken set into it. While he didn't like the roundabout way she gifted the dagger to him, he appreciated the intent. He had "paid the Iron Price" after a fashion for it, even if he had to kill a nasty and mean old badger to get it. The damn thing had been a huge beast with only one eye lost in a scuffle from something bigger some time before Theon met him. Sansa said she had given it to the badger. Theon had scratches at the claw marks on his calf and arm. Damn thing jumped him. Good thing he had his hunting leathers on. How did Sansa even find that thing, much less hang it above the damn badger hole to begin with.

"Well, when a woman is having a troubling time giving birth, these forceps can be used to guide the babe's head out of the birth canal. I successfully used it once already as one of the servants was having a difficult birth. It saved the child and the mother. Shame I can't send it to the Citadel. Lord Stark put a stay on all of the things she writes up." The Maester sighed. "An overreaction, but an understandable one considering the vast bounty these items are the House Stark."

Theon shrugged, not really caring, but he did find he didn't really feel like holding the paper anymore and set it down. "He didn't seem to overreact enough with the Boltons." Theon said. He looked around the room in the Maester's tower.

"Lord Stark is not Tywin Lannister. Even if the evil deeds of the bastard son reflect poorly on the House, as do the good deeds of Domeric when he sent word ahead of his brother's arrival in Stark lands, not to mention the days he spent hunting his brother to bring him to justice. It was only chance that the storm prevented the raven from warning Lord Stark. The perpetrator paid with his life as you yourself witnessed. And if Lord Stark Stark had sensed a copper's worth of malicious intent from Domeric, Roose would have been waking to find an army outside his walls and both his sons' heads on pikes." The Maester slowly worked the mortar and pestle. Theon scratches itched all the more because of it.

Theon couldn't help but scratch again at his arm seeing the salve he came for just out of reach, and remembering the reason he was here. He supposed that made some sense. He wondered why Lord Stark bothered.

"He was well within his rights to do so. Perhaps taking land or a blood price?" Theon said as he looked over some sort of horse pulled contraption.

"You forget the history of Stark and Bolton. House Bolton has always envied House Stark. Yet they were never foolish enough to outright rebel like the Reynes did to the Lannisters. That History would play a huge part in perception. While some bannermen would understand, there would be some that question the harshness of the punishment and ascribe it to the ancient feud.

Lord Stark has not been idle after Roose left. He has sent some men to gather information on the Bolton Bastards dealings to ascertain Roose's possible involvement or failure to act. In the meantime Lord Stark has fined House Bolton a substantial sum of gold dragons minus a small amount for striking Domeric in the courtyard." Luwin set down the salve Theon had been waiting for. The ironborn tried to grab it, but Luwin slapped his hand away.

"Not yet, it needs time to set. And you shouldn't complain about Lord Stark's mercy, if he was as ruthless as Tywin, you wouldn't be here." Luwin chided.

Theon glared, but he supposed he couldn't argue that. It wasn't as if people stopped reminding him how lucky he was. He wanted to go back home more than anything. The dagger on his hip seemed to weigh more. It shamed him that a young northern girl had shown more knowledge of his people's ways better than he did. He looked at all the belongings he had paid for with the Gold price. He rubbed his arm. He decided to change the subject, but Luwin beat him to it.

"Just why were you wrestling with badgers, My Lord?"

"Sansa gave one of her Stark knives meant for me to a badger. He attacked me when I went to claim it." Theon shook his head. He never thought the badger would pop out of its hole. You never see the damn things unless they're above ground. How did she even find it? She hardly ever leaves the Castle. She must have had Jon and Robb track it down for her.

"Certainly an odd way of paying the Iron Price." Luwin was amused. Theon pointed at another of Sansa's drawings. It looks like a coiled adder inside a barrel.

"What is that?" Luwin looked at the picture.

"It is a copper still. It would allow me to make disinfectant better than boiled wine and an exceptionally strong liquor. So she theorizes. Considering how well her hammer works, I am in the process of having one of these stills made. This may be just as important as the forceps. Imagine the number of wounds that could be cleaned after a battle, or after any form of surgery." The old man got a look in his eyes. Theon just wondered what kind of liquor it could possibly make.

"That salve ready or what?" Theon asked, resisting the urge to scratch the scratches. Luwin looked down at it and put a finger in it. Theon frowned. Was the old man having fun with this?

"I do believe so." He handed over the tin of paste. "Apply once in the morning-" Theon cut him off.

"Ain't my first time." Theon said, snatching the tin away

"Fine, who am I to tell the victorious badger slayer how to apply salve? I am just a maester." Luwin said, sarcasm dripping from his lips.

"If you had seen the damn thing, you wouldn't be laughing." Theon stormed out of the room. Slamming the door behind him.

Theon idly grasped the blade's handle. He thought to himself perhaps he should brush up on his own culture. He had become too much a greenlander to the point where a little girl knew more than him. He couldn't let that stand.

Sansa

"Gah, fu-" I stuck my thumb in my finger in my mouth before finishing the curse. Mordane shook her head. Damn needlework and damn embroidery. I could make basic shapes well enough, but Mordane seemed intent on having me return to the needlework ability the "true Sansa" had from before the accident. Meanwhile Jeyne and Beth were weaving blankets on the loom.

The lessons weren't all embroidery and weaving, despite my being stuck in remedial embroidery class. I had to learn how to shop, believe it or not. What foods kept the best for longer periods of time and how to properly organize a banquet. Making sure the arrangement of seating to insure Lords with grudges weren't seated next to each other. When and what jewelry was acceptable to wear. What type of gifts were expected to be sent for birthdays, weddings, and funerals. What gifts could be a purposeful insult and whatnot. There was a lot to this Noble Woman stuff that never really came to mind.

Mother would join Mordane on those days. Constantly balancing the Castle's food supplies and budget. It was weird at first, but then I remembered that Mother was trained to be Lady Paramount of the Riverlands had Uncle Edmure not been born. Baelish might have gotten his wish to marry then. A matrilineal marriage with his status as a lower nobody house helping his case. I think? Did the Riverlands do that or was that just an Eerie thing? Right I was going to have to find a way to deal with that shitheel at some point. Anyway Mother knew how to run a castle and kingdom. I felt these counted as more extended lessons from Luwin on logistics. Wasn't at all unappreciated.

"Pay attention, Sansa." Damn I was drifting off again. Mordane pursed her lips and shook her head.

Arya had returned to class, but she was quiet and dutifully working on her own loom. I was worried for her. She wasn't even looking for ways to escape. We hadn't spoken much since the kidnapping. I wasn't sure what to say and Arya had yet to come to our morning practice sessions. The Godswood felt lonely that early. Jon and Robb both showed up one morning to my surprise. I guess they thought Arya would be there. Everyone was concerned for her. Mother had her in the cooped up with her for a long time. I had no idea what to do. Was she avoiding me? It felt like it at times. Perhaps I could visit her room. I think Mother was allowing her to sleep there again.

"Sansa, what is the proper way to address the High Septon?" The Septa asked me directly. Mordane would always quiz us on various things while working.

"Your Eminence?" It was a simple answer to a simple question.

"You are right, this time." She huffed, almost disappointed she didn't get to admonish me. It was mostly because I didn't really care for the heavily bastardized Catholic/Orthodox skinsuit that called itself a religion in the South. I didn't trust the Old Gods either, but that was due to Bloodraven. However I didn't have the full picture, and believed that there were at least two time-altering factions fighting over the future. Well perhaps one time-altering faction and the other is aware of the time-altering faction. So my distrust could be expunged if I found out otherwise.

That line of thought could wait for the time being. I did pay close attention to what the Septa taught us. Especially the more "womanly" aspects of noble duty. It gave me nightmares, every now and then. I had dreams of waking up and seeing I was in bed with Walder Frey with a full and pregnant belly or the scenes of Sansa or Jeyne marrying Ramsey in the show and books respectively. That sick fuck was dead, but it didn't matter to my sub-concious appearantly. I was pretty sure this was the book verse as Father didn't look like Sean Bean, and Mother looked a lot younger than in the show.

These nightmares seemed to only add on to the list of shit that fucked with my head at night like the Others and the growing fuckery in the South. Still, I figured it was good that I paid attention to the things the Septa taught rather than being completely caught off guard when the time for my upcoming nuptial came. Another reason to invent the forceps. Hope I got the design right. I had only read about them in passing.

I should have been more nervous, but that stinging wall of emotion had strung itself back up again. There must have been something wrong with my head. The most obvious answer was the horse's kick. Or I was some sort of sociopath now or… had been. Scary thought. I had no idea. Head wounds as bad as that took years to fully heal from what I remember. It might be that I still on some level saw the people around as mere book characters.

"Sansa," I looked up as a gentle hand laid on my shoulder. It was Father. I relaxed.

"Yes, Father?" I asked, just glad I could escape from the mental psychosis I was about to fall into.

"Would you mind taking a break from your lessons?" He seemed nervous. I didn't protest and perhaps took the opportunity to leave too quickly. I noted the frown on the Septa's face as I haphazardly tossed the monstrosity of needlework on another chair, but she didn't protest her lord.

"Sure," I said, knowing what this possibly could be about. The last couple days had been better for Jon I noticed. Mother often got a guilty look when she saw him.

Ayra smiled when she saw father. Father smiled back. She got up and rushed to hug him. He hugged her close. He whispered something in her ear that I didn't quite catch and she nodded. Then she went back to work.

After that brief exchange, Father led me to the stables. He saddled his horse, and helped me with mine. Normally Hullen would handle mine but he wasn't present at the moment. I found that a bit strange.

"Can you show me how to saddle my horse? Hullen never lets me do it." I hadn't been allowed to saddle my own horse yet. I loved riding too. I remembered how from the reenactment memories, but I wasn't quite tall enough to heave the saddle over the mare's back myself without a step ladder. I figured I'd ask anyway.

"Well, you are a bit too short yet. But I can show you. Pay close attention." He showed me the best way to throw the saddle over and then he provided a way to cinch up the straps. "Now remember, that you must knee the horse hard enough and tighten the cinch as he lets out his breath. They like to suck in air and fill out the strap, but the cinch will come loose as you ride if you don't. And then your saddle will slip right around her belly." He patted the horse after saddling her. It was Jory's old horse, well old new Horse to be exact. She was one that kicked me. She was a chestnut warhorse. Jory couldn't bear to ride a horse that had struck his Liege Lord's own child, so he was going to sell her. When I had become more lucid, I insisted I'd take the horse. Father was reluctant. The idea of his daughter riding a warhorse was ridiculous, but I wanted to master this horse for some odd reason. Considering how much muscle she had, it was a miracle she didn't outright pulp my little head. Jory called her Storm. While I was disappointed that I couldn't name her as she responded to it, it was nice enough.

I nodded. Then he picked me up and set me on the saddle. "Won't be long until you're too big for that." he smiled and saddled up. He led me out of the castle while on his own horse. I waved at Fat Tom who was guarding the entrance. He gave me a serious nod. Ser Rodrick was drilling them harder, so there must have been an order to look less lethargic on duty. Fat Tom would be an ironic nickname if that heavy training continued. There were no guards, but it looked as if Father was going into Wintertown. It wasn't until a few moments later that I saw Jory ride out from behind one of the buildings with Alyn and Hallis close by.

"Your hair is coming undone in that way your mother doesn't care for." I frowned as he smirked. I shook my head which made things worse.

"I try and Jeyne has made it her personal mission to get right. I might just have to cut it shoulder length." I said. Feeling it carefully to see how much it had come undone. I sighed. Mother wasn't going to be happy.

"It suits you, reminds me of your aunt. Though her hair wasn't so fiery." I took a moment to pause. Father never mentioned Aunt Lyanna or Grandfather and Uncle Brandon for that matter. I, of course knew what happened to them, but it was nice to hear stories of them that weren't about how they died.

"What was she like?" I decided to take a moment and ask. "I often hear people say Arya acts as she did."

"Lya was far more wild. Your Grandmother died not long after Benjen was born. So Lya had no woman of rank who could rein her in and tell her not to ride horses so much or get after her for practicing swordplay with Benjen." There was a wistful look in his eyes as he remembered that far back. Arya chafes against your Mother's desires, but Arya may relent as she gets older because of that."

"I find I would miss her as she is." I said solemnly.

Father got a far off look in eye. I could tell that he was conflicted. Arya was a free spirit and Father wanted what was best for her and yet, Arya was still a girl of noble birth. He nodded. "Aye, but it would be better if she did listen to your Mother."

"Did you want to go to the forge?" I asked. He nodded.

"Yes, but later. First, follow me." He led me out of town. Jory had his guards shadowed us from a distance. They were still within shouting distance, but just out of range of normal speech. There was a light breeze as well.

We stopped on a hill just outside Wolfswood. There were no trees or anything that could hinder sight. It was a really nice day. Cool enough to need a jacket, but not much it was uncomfortable.

Father seemed to enjoy it for a moment as well, letting the wind run off past him. Most likely enjoying Summer before it left. It was a beautiful Northern day.

"Sansa," He was still letting the wind fall over him.

"Yes, Father." I said.

"How did you know about Jon?" He was direct. He turned and looked at me, measuring me for lies. I did my best not to shrink back under the scrutiny.

"I… the story didn't match up. You went down to get Aunt Lyanna and came back with a child. It made no sense that he would be that young. You met Ashara Dayne much earlier at Tourney at Harrenhal and never saw her again until after your visit." Father visibly looked away when Ashara was mentioned. He no doubt wondered who talked about her in front of his children. It was still a fresh wound it seemed, I turned away as well.

Father seemed to take a breath. "Ashara is not Jon's mother."

"What happened to her?" I asked.

Father got a grim look. "It is best we focus on Jon now."

"So Jon was Lyanna's child?" I asked.

"And Rhaegar's," Father confirmed.

"Did they love each other?" I asked.

"Yes, but they didn't mean for things to happen as they did. Lya told me how sorry she was, that she didn't mean to-" I saw him hold back a tear. It was a brief moment and he turned to me. "I made a promise I had kept for over a decade. If anyone finds out, our entire House will be in jeopardy. If Robert…" He stopped.

"I understand, I heard the stories of Rhaegar's children." I said. "I hope I made the right decision. I was just afraid Mother would drive him away." I bowed my head, "I hope it doesn't become Domeric all over again. I should have kept my mouth shut."

"You are an incredibly gifted child Sansa, but still a child." He smiled. "Now, let us go visit the forge. I wish to see the first foundations of the new palisade I am having the men build around the forge. I wanted you there. Mikkon said he finished the plow you ordered."

I thought for a moment as I let my horse follow Father's. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps I was changing things too soon and too fast. However, I wasn't sure if he would believe me. Hell, with what happened to Arya, he might forbid me from attempting to change anything else. Still I sensed this was a chance I couldn't afford to miss. He was about to turn his horse away, when stopped him.

"Father," His horse had taken a step and he reined it back. "I…" It was then I heard a loud caw of a crow as it landed not far from us and started pecking at the ground. I did my best to visibly look as if I didn't notice or particularly care. Inside I was freaking out. I couldn't risk revealing anything now that I knew I had an audience outside Father.

"I am sorry. I let my pride get in the way." I said. I meant part of it. I had to play things closer to the chest from now on. I just hope that wasn't already part of some jackass beyond the wall's plan.

Father smiled and I felt that he was relieved in a way. I continued to wonder if the crow had intervened in order to listen to what I had to say or to stop me from saying it. The mere thought would keep me up at night for sometime.

Eddard

"Milord?"

Eddard was taken from his thoughts. Mikken had been proudly displaying the new plow his daughter designed. It cut the earth with ease. Self-scouring she called it. It was impressive. Ned had never done much farm work himself. His station prevented it. He did know enough that this would make working and breaking old and new fields a whole lot easier. The improved horse collar was also a good idea for any animal pulling carts or plows.

"Yes, It is quite impressive." He wasn't lying. With this the North could plant more crops. This would take some strain off the North as a whole. While giving Hoster Tully his own power hammer was a foolish move. This type of plow and collar would benefit the Riverlands all the more. It seemed a more acceptable gift for the Lord of the Trident.

"Thank you Master Mikken for making my little projects come alive." Sansa said. Mikken drew himself up with pride.

"It wasn't all me, Quiet Hammer helped once I worked out a hammer arm for'im. With some drawin's from the little Lady." Sansa inclined her head at the smith. The Qohoric man nodded from his work station. He seemed to be testing some sort of clamp system to hold on to steel better when he worked. That seemed to have sparked new life into the living dead man's eyes. He seemed determined to master his new "hands."

"Was there anything else you wanted me to work on young Lady?" Mikken was excited, but it seemed like he was getting tired. Sansa seemed to pick up on that.

"Not Today, not that I have anything else to work on. I do not want to overload you with too much."

"It is no trouble, milady."

"All the same, I should go over the design again for what I have in mind. I don't want too much trial and error when you already have such a large workload.

Eddard found himself agreeing with his daughter. As marvelous as her inventions were. Until Mikken got another Hammer up and running and a few more apprentices, there was no way he could keep up with everything. It was best to slow things down before they got out of hand.

"Sansa is right. No need to overextend the forge. It is a marvel, but we can only do so much at once. Once a second hammer is built, then more time can be made for side projects." With that Eddard and his daughter left the forge. On the way back, his thoughts drifted to Jon and the promise he made to the boy's mother. Had he really kept Jon so well hidden. Perhaps there was someone out there waiting to steal the boy away or worse. Eddard considered if it was time to tell the boy the truth. He would sleep on it.