Sansa,

As you may have been able to count, yesterday marked the day that my ship was completed. True to form, it has indeed reached the proper time for me to set off.

It feels like truly no time has passed since all of the things in our hectic lives went down; the Battle of Winterfell, Daenerys burning King's Landing, Jon being exiled, Bran chosen as king...me and Gendry...but it's also been a long time coming.

I know you asked me in one of your previous letters to consider whether or not this is what I truly want. And oh, a part of me ever so much does want it.

I have this thirst, this itch in my feet. Maybe it was always there or maybe I picked it up when I was Arry, or when I was No One. Maybe I picked it up traveling with the Hound or with Ser Breinne. I'm not sure. All I know is that a part of me feels as stifled by these halls as Cercei was by the ceiling (too soon?).

You know me though, if I'm writing you an honest letter- which I promised myself I would try to do- I make jest of the situation because deep down, I am afraid.

I am afraid of many things, which I know, might seem impossible. I am human, and thus, things scare me. Not as much as things once did, but I would be lying to pretend like there weren't thoughts that kept me up at night.

What if I face danger that I couldn't have predicted and it nearly kills me? What if it does? What if there's nothing out there and there is a fool's errand? What if I regret it immediately…

What if I never want to return home?

I think that's what scares me the most. Not that you'll simply never hear from me, but that I'll be enchanted by what I find out there and forget about all that I'm leaving here, mainly you and Gendry and Jon. Honest, if Jon is never found again, Gendry came with me, and you were dead, I'm unsure I would be tempted to return at all.

Maybe it's good there are ties that tether me to Weseteros. I feel as though that in my time alone I got a bit muddled. I had no one to answer to except Death himself and my mind started to change. I think it's good to have people reminding me that I am needed and loved and still some part of me is a beating heart. It reminds me that I am not invincible nor am I made of stone. I am Arya Stark and I love my homeland and I love you and I love Gendry and bugger, I should really say all of that more often.

Gendry gave me a bit of his shirt to tie on my necklace I made. It still smells like him. Like fire, musky and deep. I wish I knew how to keep that scent there forever, so that any time I missed him I could let it come over me. As it is, I have a feeling the smell of it will wear off within weeks.

I sent a message to Jeyne a little bit ago. I asked her for one of your ribbons. You may have not been able to find your favorite lately. That's my fault, I have it. I wanted something of you too. I guess I didn't want you to say no. And you always claimed I wasn't sentimental, huh?

I would like to say that I will return it one day.

I think I just need to see what's out there. If I condemn myself to living in a palace as a wife without ever trying, I'll always be haunted by the 'what if'. You may think I'm barmy, but I have to do this.

I will be able to sustain myself, barring any catastrophic damage to the ship, for three years. I think that's enough time, wouldn't you say?

I'm unsure if I'll ever be able to write, but if I find a post that I can easily return to, you'll be the first to know. Okay, that's a lie. You'll be the second. Gendry will be the first.

On the topic of Gendry…

Watch out for him, yeah? I told him he was free to marry someone else. It would be terribly unfair of me to expect him to sit twiddling his thumbs, waiting around. I would get it. It would break my heart, but I'd get it.

So if you see that he wants to be happy but is holding onto me, tell him it's okay.

But if he isn't, if he insists on waiting like the stubborn bull I know he is...remind him that I love him whenever you can. And be the me I can't be. Defend him to the other lords, if you are able. Help him flourish and become the Lord I know in my heart he can be. He'll be a truly great leader.

By the time I return, I hope he'll have settled and I'll have settled and things will just be easier. We'll be together and that will be that and I'll be so happy. I'm no seer, but I can almost see that.

This is getting dreadfully long.

By the time you receive this, chances are I'll have already cast off, looking toward adventure.

Sansa, my sister, you deserve the world too.

When happiness comes to knock, let it in. Let yourself feel, let yourself have something good.

I wonder if you'll scoff at that. But I hope that the next time you're about to let something go on the principal or because you feel as queen you should, especially if you want it, try doing the opposite.

I hope to see you again.

With love always,

Arya

XXXII

It seemed that Sansa's life was on constant watch by the gods and that balance had to be kept.

The moment that she gained a companion, Meera, she lost Arya to her travels and the sea.

A very small part of Sansa had always hoped she'd call it off, but now she was simply...gone.

The day Sansa received that letter, though she'd felt it in her bones that it was going to arrive any day, she hadn't even made it out of the raven croft before she opened it with shaking fingers.

Then, by the end, she felt entirely empty.

Meera was the one who found her when she missed dinner, her legs haven crumpled beneath her and her chest heaving and hurting. She was curled against the wooden post, holding the letter and crying. She had tried to stop it, remind herself that it would be most unbecoming to be found in such a state, but she couldn't stop these tears. That void inside of her, the one she'd felt at the death of her brothers, had taken hold once again and left her a small, whimpering child.

"She might be back," Jeyne cooed after Meera and Jeyne helped Sansa into her room, "She's a good traveler, you know that. Intelligent and quick-witted. I doubt anything could take her down."

Sansa wanted Arya to come back. She needs her back. Even if she was all the way in the Storm Lands, having her easily reachable by letter or a couple day's journey by horse was enough.

If Sansa's siblings were pieces of string held fast in her fist, Arya was the last one to break away. Bran had been gone since he'd returned to Winterfell as the Three-Eyed Raven. Jon's had unraveled the moment he went past the wall. And now, Arya. They were all still alive the threads still in her hand, but she was unable to reach out to any of them in a significant way.

Sansa was once again the last Stark standing.

She was truly hating this emerging pattern.

Sansa didn't reply to Jeyne, just curled up on her pillow and stared out the window with a sort of despondent expression. She'd felt the cold fingers of this unhappiness before, but never so far-reaching, never so chilling.

She wanted Arya here. She wanted Jon back. She wanted Bran to be more normal. And she wanted...she wanted Podrick here to talk to him, she realized with a small jolt. She wanted him just as much as she wanted the rest, perhaps on equal levels with the longing for her sister to return.

She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Podrick would know what to say, but she hadn't found the words to tell him about Arya's departure yet.

Jeyne attempted to nudge her out of her bed the rest of the evening, but soon Sansa grew tired of it and dismissed Jeyne, claiming that she just needed to sleep. She saw the shadow of disappointment and hurt on her friend's face, but her Stewardess left her with her swirling, dark thoughts.

That night, Randin and Wylis came to check up on her. Jeyne had cited a stomach ache that had left her incapacitated. Sansa didn't even need to fake a look of pain on her face and her two bannermen had left her to her rest.

Aedlayne had come bearing the dinner that she'd missed and had been delighted when Sansa had managed to have a few bites of it. The poor girl clearly thought Sansa was inches from death. To assuage the girl's fear, Sansa had made more of an effort.

Jeyne could have brought this food up. Sansa had a feeling that Aedlayne had been sent specifically. Cunning.

Gawen had insisted on keeping vigil outside of her bedroom. Usually, as her day-time head guard, he took the night off and one of the other men in her circle stayed by her door. Tonight, however Gawen told her it would be a bad omen and bad form to sleep while his Queen was battling such woes. From his expression, she half-wondered if he knew it wasn't a sickness of the body, but a sickness and loss in the mind.

The only person who did not come by, wringing their hands and fussing over her, was her Hand, Meera. She helped Sansa to her room and then seemed to all but vanish.

In fact, she didn't arrive all night. She did not come knocking on Sansa's door until mid-day of the next, and it wasn't a worried social call.

"It's time to get up, my Queen," Meera announced, throwing open the curtains. Light spilled onto the wooden floor, the harsh brightness causing Sansa to wince.

"I cannot. Please, leave me to myself, Meera." She said quietly, rubbing her red-rimmed eyes and wallowing back into her self-pity.

Meera grasped her blankets next.

"Meera!" She gasped at her, at the audacity to take her queen's soft warmth so violently and dump it on the ground.

"Sansa!" Meera repeated back in the same tone, "You have things to do today."

"I-,"

"No, Sansa, listen to me. You may kick me out after I say this, but I will say it," Meera announced with such a tone of confidence that even Sansa was encouraged to silence. However, that's how Meera was.

The girl fit into the castle so seamlessly it's like she'd always been there. By day two of her job as the Hand, she'd already knew the names of everyone in the castle. By day five, she knew who was with who and what business she needed to know. By day eight, Sansa was pretty sure she had her own 'little birds' that reported to her. She fixed problems without Sansa hearing about them until after the fact and answered thoughtfully and intelligently. There were some items that while Jeyne, for as good as a Steward as she was, floundered, Meera excelled. She was a most magnificent Hand, if Sansa wanted to be proud of herself, but mostly she was glad to have such a sharp-witted girl at her side.

Until right now, of course.

Still, Sansa snapped her jaw shut and glared at Meera with the force of the sun.

"Losing your family is awful. I would know. And I get it; in a lot of ways, knowing someone's dead is better. You don't have expectations they may or may not come back. You don't have to worry, you just have to ride out the emotions. So yes, this is a trying time and yes, you should be worried for Arya. But to what end? Are you going to let your sister- who clearly gave not as much consideration for anyone else- and your worry for her rule over your entire life? Are you going to hide yourself away because of this? Are you going to never get from your bed again?"

"No, of course not!" Sansa growled, "Don't be silly."

"Then when? Today, tomorrow, a week, a month?" Meera implored, leaving Sansa without an answer, "No, it ends right now. You had a day to be sad. As a Queen you promised certain things to your people," Meera gave her a sad smile, "So, frankly, one day is all you can afford."

"I can afford whatever I wish," Sansa said sourly.

"If that were true, I'd let you about three more days before I told you that you were being overly dramatic. But it is not true. So," She grabbed Sansa's hand, forcing her onto the cold stone ground, "It is time for you to get ready for the day. Wipe away those tears, keep Arya in the back of your mind, but move on. She obviously is."

Sansa frowned, having not considered that. All those that she felt like we're leaving her were just doing what they set out to do for themselves. It was a very selfish life some were leading, but it was something Sansa had gone the other way with. She'd become Queen. She'd given herself to her people.

And Meera was correct. She could not allow herself to be selfish; not now, not ever. While most did not realize it, a Queen gave up much too.

Perhaps if Sansa inserted herself into more of the Kingdom, she'd start feeling less lonely.

"I suppose you are right," Sansa said slowly, "But this is the only time you'll hear me say that."

"Aye, I wouldn't want it any other way," Meera said.

"Thank you." Sansa added, a tad softer.

Meera bowed, inclining her head, "All in a day's work of being a Hand."

XXXIII

Dear Gendry,

If I think that I am having a rough time with Arya's departure, I cannot imagine what you must be going through right now. I'll admit I was wary about your intentions toward my sister at the beginning, along with how you two would work in the world past war, but I cannot imagine a better man for her.

I know how deeply you care for her and, if she does not say it often enough, she loves you more than you could imagine.

We are tied now through Arya. I want you to know I respect you a great deal and I think that out of most of the Lords that have taken titles in the remaining kingdoms, you will truly always do what is best for your people. Not just the highborns, but the average, the under-dogs. I feel as though that Storm's End is in the best of hands that it could possibly be.

But I understand the difficulty of ruling.

While I may not be under King Bran's rule and my land is sovereign, I am writing to reach out my assistance to you whenever you may require it. I have no desire to conquer Storm's End and because these are Arya's people in a sense, I wish them only the best. I'm sure you have your advisors, but if you ever feel as though you need a bit of uniquely Stark-Sister advice, I'll write back promptly. No question is too dim or request is too large. I know I've made a fool of myself with many a thing, and I grew up as a Lord's daughter! It's in the pursuit of becoming better so I'd be cruel to deny you such.

On a more personal note, I want to offer my heart. Not romantically, but as a kindred spirit. A good sister, one may even say (you and Arya are nearly married as it is, so I've heard).

I have to have faith Arya will return, but it will hurt that she is gone. I want us to get through this together. It might be how we wait.

So, if you also just ever need someone to talk to, write to me. About Arya, if you want to complain or tell funny stories or hear about her childhood, write. If you just want to tell me how your day is going, and pretend I'm Arya for a second, write. If you need reassurance someone else is out there, write.

I will be there for you Gendry as a confidant and friend and someone who loves Arya too.

Please, do not hesitate. You will always have a friend at Winterfell.

With sisterly love,

Sansa

Dear Sansa,

I just heard about your sister leaving. I wanted to write away. I'm so sorry.

I guess we knew she was planning on it, but I cannot imagine the pain of losing her. I guess in this way, I was lucky to be an only child.

Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?

I know my options are limited here in King's Landing, serving King Bran, but if there was anything you requested of me…

She's tough. I have to think she'll find her way back, probably with a whole host of new scars and even more somber eyes.

Still, and please do not think me rude or out of line, but I am rather astonished that she left at all. She and Gendry...they are...together...the two of them…

Words rather escape me. It's not so much something I can articulate but rather it's the feeling of watching them together.

And she just gave that up?

If I…

Well, I've said what I feel, though you may hate me for it.

I obviously wish her safe travels, but I'm always more worried about you.

Podrick

Deer Sansa,

I usaly have Arya red my lettrs and corect spelling. I only recently learned too red and rite. Of late, Iv had Ser Davos skribe or edit.

This was a lettr I wanted no one else to cee. It is a matter of the hart.

Exusee my langage, but- gods- I fuckin miss Arya. I miss her so much it herts. I canot expres myself to much in front of oters, but I do feal comfortble admitting this to you.

I am knot sure what I wil do without her.

She was my north starr. She gided me and taght me all I currently know. Its not jus tat I miss her smile or her jokes, but I miss everyting about her.

Tere are days I almost due not want to get out of bed.

She was my person. Due you undstand? I do knot kow how to say it in any oter way.

Tese years will bee tortre. It does make it beter to know I have a frind in you.

Somewon may warn me tat its unwise to trust you, but I know I can.

So… thank you.

With broterly love,

Gendry

P.S. Srry for the bad speling. It will get beter over tyme.

P.S.S. Wen Podrick stoped here. Arya never ses love untl it wacks her on the fayce, so she did not se it. But I did. He is a kind boy. Plase do not brek his hart. Just consder tat.

Dear Sansa,

I regretted adding that part about your sister as soon as the raven flew off. I'm glad to hear you were too terribly offended. Love, you're right, I suppose was the word I was looking for. But a special love. A deep one.

I grew up around Lannisters. As you can imagine, not a whole lot of true pure love there. Toxic, the lot of it, warped how one should think about things.

The first time I think I truly saw people in love was Brienne and Jamie.

But that's ended.

And so has Arya and Gendry.

I cannot help but feel jaded. I suppose I'm not in a position to even be considering such issues, but I cannot help but be truthful and honest with you about my emotions. The confliction of it all. I know that you will not judge me (at least, not harshly), and I cannot recall someone I've ever felt so comfortable with discussing such things. Even with Tyrion...it was not the same.

It's strange to me to imagine we were both in King's Landing together for such a long time, but never talked. When you were married to Tyrion or engaged to Joffrey and I had just begun under Tyrion, we hardly acknowledged each other.

If I had known then about how wonderful you are, maybe things would have been different. It almost upsets me that we had so much time together without knowing it and now we are separated by so many things.

I guess I'm just in a strange mood tonight.

I apologize this letter is more half-hearted ramblings than any real news.

Yours,

Podrick

Dear Queen Sansa,

Your sister's departure has been rough for many in the castle. Although we all knew about the ship being built, I think few believed she'd go through with it, especially after many of us were sure she and Gendry were set for the altar soon.

While many will not admit it, it has darkened many's moods, including my own.

You know I have come to care for you girls in a way that I cannot imagine how I went without this sort of affection before. It's almost motherly, or an elder sister. As such, my worry for Arya keeps me up at night. My worry for you is always there, but at least I am lulled to sleep knowing you are being kept safe at Winterfell. Ser Podrick informs me that you have a good guard with you, so I can sleep easier.

If you need to talk, I am here.

Love,

Ser Brienne

Sansa,

I have received Theon's bones. As promised, they were delivered perfectly. More than perfectly. The courier was very specific about how they were to be treated and how he should handle them. His spirit was honored in that.

Although, imagine my surprise when I inquired about it and the direct orders did not come from you, but from Ser Podrick? I will admit that I didn't think Ser Podrick knew my brother at all.

He came home eventually, Theon did. How he managed to come here I suppose I cannot be upset with the method. He has been put to peace on my end.

I heard about Arya. Sorry.

Hopefully, we'll never be needing another occasion to write again,

Lady Yara

Dear Sister,

I've obviously heard the news about Arya leaving. While I'll admit it may be unwise of me to direct my attention toward the seas, I find myself searching to make she's okay, more often than not. As a side note, Jon is fine too, though he never did receive your final letter and I'm unsure he ever will.

I wish I could see Arya returning. The part of me that is still Bran, the brother, and not the three-eyed-raven, very much wants nothing more. Still, she has survived worse conditions. I think she will prevail and return.

On the topic of returning, you may have heard that I am to be coronated in two days. Likely by the time this letter has reached you, the process will have happened.

I will be coming back to Winterfell in two month's time, if you will allow me to return. I will likely stay at least two months. I will be making a round of all the houses with my kingdom's reach, and I will admit I would be upset not to be able to return back to my childhood home perhaps one last time.

Reply your answer.

Your brother,

Bran

XXXIV

There was giggling in the kitchens. As Sansa returned to her room, arms full of letters from a whole array of people, she was paused by the sound of high-pitched laughter that was infectious.

Sansa would recognize that laugh anywhere. Jeyne's joy about certain things could not be contained and she partook in the enjoyment of life often. She seemed determined to like what she could. Sansa knew the bell-like trill from the back of her throat was only when she was laughing so hard she was close to crying.

The other laughter, however, was foreign. It was low and earthy and rumbling, unquestionably a man's voice.

Sansa paused at the door for a long time, arguing with herself if she should enter or not.

She was curious who Jeyne was having so much fun with behind this door. It wasn't the laughter of a male-female chumship, it was something reminiscent of a pair of people who trusted and loved each other. More than that, didn't Sansa- as Queen- have a right to know who Jeyne was consorting with?

On the other hand, the hand that was Jeyne's friend, Sansa almost let it be. Jeyne hadn't mentioned anything about catching feelings. If she did or had, Sansa hoped she would trust Sansa as a person enough to tell her, not out of obligation.

Sansa weighed the dilemma in her mind for about three minutes.

In the end, her sheer wonder won her over as she cracked the door open.

Jeyne sat on the end of the preparation table, her face and hair covered in flour. She was dissolved into amusement, unable to even articulate sounds. Around her looked like the sorry attempt at making bread, though Sansa wouldn't have called any of it edible. The floor had more flour than anywhere else, as it looked like winter had come early this year.

In front of Jeyne, collapsed in a similar state of unstoppable glee, nose and cheeks smudged with flour dust, was her faithful Lord Commander Gawen Glover.

Sansa stared, uncomprehending for a second, feeling like a voyeur from the smitten looks the pair were sending each other. The entire rest of the world, or the open door, did not exist for them at this moment. Every time they seemed to be catching their breath, they would look at each other and then erupt back into laughter again.

Something warmed and simultaneously ached in Sansa's heart.

"You have a spot right there," Gawen managed, placing a hand on her cheek to wipe away the flour, but left a handprint in its place.

"You knave! I don't know how I'll ever get clean again," She said, but it as clear from the warmth in her voice she did not mean her insult.

"Well, I'd say I have a few ideas."

Sansa, in that moment, realized that she was about to hear some things she perhaps did not wish to hear. She went to backtrack quickly and quietly out of the room, holding the knowledge to her chest to consider what she wanted to do with this later, when the door squeaked as she attempted to slide past it.

Gawen and Jeyne both startled, looking up.

"My queen!" Jeyne nearly fell from the perch, looking red and flustered underneath the flour, your "We were just...I…"

"I asked Lady Poole to show me how to bake bread, my Queen. We, err, well-," Gawen floundered as well.

Sansa held up a hand, quieting the pair. They looked at Sansa like she'd just caught them with their hands in the cookie jar, awaiting punishment.

"How long has this been happening?" Sansa asked, trying to say so kindly.

"Ahm, well," Jeyne knitted her eyebrows, "I'm unsure. One day it just..did." She said with a hint of shame.

"I will not let it inhibit my duties, my Queen!" Gawen insisted, "That is if you find it within your heart to allow us to continue." He added, wincing.

Sansa felt her heart thump a little. She looked at Jeyne, sighing.

"Jeyne, does he make you happy?" It was hardly a whisper.

"More than anyone else, Queen Sansa," Jeyne admitted, looking at Gawen with such heartfelt emotions that it made Sansa hurt.

"I am so happy that you are contented," Sansa said, meaning it honestly, though she couldn't help the quiver in her lips, the loneliness creeping up inside of her.

"Are you sure?" Jeyne said, "Sansa," She grasped her friend's hands, "You tell us, we stop it all."

"No, I couldn't. I would never," Sansa gasped out, trying to will away her own feelings, "How could I deny you something so wonderful in life, something that makes you shine so warmly?"

"I have real intentions with her," Gawen said after a moment, his admission seeming to surprise even Jeyne, "I'm not sure what she wishes, but…" He gave a crooked smile, "I cannot quite see myself desiring a different wife."

Jeyne gasped, covering her hands over her mouth, looking rapidly between Gawen and Sansa. Sansa tried to keep it together, but tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes.

"Is that a proposal, Ser?" Sansa asked, finding her voice.

"It is if she accepts it, with your permission, Queen Sansa."

Sansa nodded quietly, "You've both always had it."

Jeyne dissolved into a puddle of tears, throwing her arms around him and sobbing, nodding and grasping at him. Gawen swung her in a circle, pressing his face into her hair.

"We'll have a stunning ceremony," Sansa announced, letting their infectious glee settle over her.

"Sansa, we don't need much. I'd marry him in the Godswood with only you there to see," Jeyne shook her head.

"But I want to," Sansa said, "We'll have the ceremony in the Godswood, but we should celebrate the good things that happen here. This counts. We need to fill these halls with happy memories again."

"You are too kind and fair," Gawen insisted, "But I feel as your subjects we can't very well say no?"

Sansa gave a clever grin, "You are quite right, Ser Gawen. I'll let you two be for the rest of the day. I'll go and start planning anyway," Sansa said, realizing that they kept furtively looking at each other, obviously wanting a moment alone but too kind to say anything, "I have letters to read anyway," She added, looking at the hefty stack in her hands. One from Ser Brienne, seemingly a few from Pod, was that even one from Bran?

She made her exit to her rooms swiftly. She threw the letters on the table and collapsed back onto her bed. She felt an acute pain, a low aching feeling right in her chest.

She was being silly, and she might have important things to read in the letters! It gave her a moment to take her mind away from the entirety of what had just occurred, as happy as she might feel she was, there was something colder that lingered beneath.

She read them in a particular order; King Bran (and she was surprised to see a hint of his humanness lurking beneath), Ser Brienne, Yara, Gendry, and Pod for last. She always saved his last, wanting to give herself as much time to soak in his words, reading every one of them. She hadn't truly been offended by his comment about love and his letter about Arya leaving, but after writing him back she feared she had offended him!

His letter was nothing and everything. As she climbed into her bed with it, bringing it away from her desk, she realized what she was doing. And then, secondly, she realized how much she wished he were here, how terribly she missed him, and how his letters were the only thing that kept her sane it seemed.

Lastly, she thought about Gendry's letter.

Arya had been his person. And, Gods, she did understand. If Arya was Gendry, was Podrick not in some way hers?

This thought caused her to sit upright. Such an admission metally was startling. Deep down, Sansa wondered if- despite her determination she would not fall in love- she just might be?

Sansa tried to find the right words to reply to Podrick's letter tonight and found she could find nothing quite yet to say to him.

She feared if she began to write a single thing, it would all come rushing out.

XXXV

The impending arrival of King Bran was the castle twitter, though it was still a good few moons out. Bran, who seemed to be making a more marked effort to write (and this confused Sansa like nothing else, after she had to re-learn that her brother was no longer her brother, in a sense) was very pleased to hear about Jeyne and Gawen. Sansa had originally planned their wedding for a few months out, until she realized it would coincide with Bran's time here. Her options were either to have a quicker ceremony or drag it out until he left.

Bran, however, requested it to happen in his presence. He'd known Jeyne as a young boy and he'd known the Glovers for a long time. It was a ceremony he would be pleased to see.

Well, he didn't quite say pleased, but Sansa wondered secretly if perhaps he was.

Sansa insisted on doing many thing herself when it came to planning the wedding. In between making sure the castle was ready for King Bran's arrival, she threw herself into Jeyne's wedding. She knew why that was. If she let herself linger for too long, she may write some things to Podrick, some recent realizations, that she wasn't sure were right to say over a raven. Or right for her to say at all.

Sansa was feeling all kings of very improper things for Ser Podrick.

And oh, was she torn!

She knew that she should be looking within Winterfell or the North for a suitor, if she were considering suitors at all.

She hadn't asked to start to fall for Podrick, Gods no! It had just happened and that in itself was the most peculiar thing.

But then she thought of Jeyne, who didn't think she'd find love either, and she was so deliriously gleeful every time Sansa saw her of late. She thought of Arya, who wished for Sansa to find joy herself. She thought of her brothers, who had lost their love and would have probably done anything to be able to have that feeling when it existed, because nothing in life was permanent.

So, her dilemma persisted.

It did give the people something else to focus on; Bran and Jeyne and the wedding. The whispers about succession died down with such a hush that Sansa sort of forgot about that part of their issue.

"Queen Sansa, I've been thinking," Meera said one afternoon while Sansa answered some boring correspondences with some of the vassal lords of The North.

"I hope you do that often," Sansa said, which caused Meera to grin.

"Well, I do, but I've been thinking about something specific." Meera closed the book she was reading, a History of Game Hunting in Northern Lands, to drum her fingers on the cover, "About the situation of heirs."

"Oh," Sansa frowned, "I didn't know it's been ailing you."

"Ailing would be a poor choice of words," Meera said, "But it has been on my mind. Now, instead of bothering you, Wyllis just bothers me." She said with a hint of aggravation. Before Sansa could say that she would be having stern words with Wyllis at once, Meera continued, "And, I think I have worked out a sort of plan."

Sansa, who was no closer to a solution to this issue herself, motioned for her to continue.

"The biggest issue is that no one knows what would happen currently if you were to pass. It worries me too. We're such a new, young country that to lose you would be devastating. I do not think that the Six Kingdoms would capitalize on our tragedy, but one cannot be sure," Meera chewed her lip, "And the North likes our Starks. That's undeniable. So, we write a last will of succession. It can be re-written at any time, but we have witnesses so that everyone in your council knows of your plans. It starts by you naming your successor, in case you were to die tomorrow."

Sansa nodded carefully, "I would probably choose you. A hand is only one step away from ruling anyway. And yes, you are not a Stark, but I would trust you to know how to move this kingdom in the right direction."

Meera nodded, "I had assumed as much and I would be willing to take on the mantle. Now, looking hopefully to the future, in which you live a very long life and marry no one ever and rule by yourself." She said, "There are two paths, and I say we write them both down, for neither is certain."

"Path one?"

"How sure are you of Arya's love for Lord Baratheon?" Meera asked.

"Unquestionably. I don't think Arya could ever love another as she loves him." Sansa said.

"And therefore, she will return."

"I have faith in that, yes. Unless she is killed, which we must consider. I would think that Arya would do anything to return to him. Why?"

"Well, she comes back, and they get married. Or they don't, but likely- if they're as in love as they seem to believe- they'll have heirs because they'll be…" Meera coughed, chuckling. Sansa rolled her eyes, getting Meera's meaning, "I know your sister still loves the North, and you. I offer this proposition to them; they have their first child, who will become a Lord or Lady of Storm's End. We foster their second one here and plan to have them go to their maiden name of Stark and take over Winterfell after your death."

"I would be agreeable to that," Sansa said, trying to imagine a little girl who looked like Arya or perhaps a little boy with Gendry's smile.

"But," Meera sighed, "If Arya does return, that's three years. And to have two children, if she had them in succession, at the least is five years before the child is even born. Probably ten to twelve, at best case, before they'd come here. It's a long time."

"Indeed." Sansa hummed, "Path two?"

"You adopt a child into your name. There are many war orphans in Winterfell and you could simply choose one you see promise within and formally have them become a Stark. One could claim that the blood of the Starks run through all of the North, and a son or a daughter is a child either way. Then, you could specifically find the child that would best be a ruler. And do something kind for those who lost their parents."

"It's something to think about," Sansa said, who felt a small panic grip her, "We wouldn't have to do that...today?"

"No," Meera said, leaning back, "In a few years. Maybe in three, if Arya never returns or she does not wish to agree to the first path. I think we have time. I hope we have time." Meera corrected.

Sansa gave a soft shrug, "They are better ideas than I had. They'll simply have to do."