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The snow plunged from the sky and piled up in thick coats of white in the woods of Winterfell. It was almost impossible for Brienne of Tarth to see where her and her squire Pod were going. Pod was gifted to her by Ser Jaime Lannister, after the two spent weeks saving each other from numerous enemies. Brienne and Pod charged through the treacherous weather after following Lord Petyr Baelish and to Winterfell for the past several days. They watched from afar in the freezing cold until they realized what was happening to Lady Stark at the hands of Lord Bolton. And when Pod spotted Theon Greyjoy and Sansa Stark fleeing through the frost of Winterfell, they went after her immediately. After all she swore an Oath to keep the Stark girls safe, and she was already failing.

Brienne and Pod took out several men from the Bolton army. The tall blonde did most of the work. Despite being a woman her overwhelmingly large stature did more than put fear into people's hearts, it put swords in their chests too. Podrick pierced the chest of what he thought to be the last Bolton knight. But the remaining soldier stood over Theon Greyjoy, who now keeled over in one last groaning croak Sansa felt her heart sink as she watched the pure white snow soak up the Iron born blood. Tears began to fall from her eyes. They slipped down her face and crashed into the already sopping wet fabric of her clothes. His death brought a great sense of uneasiness to her.He was a traitor to the Starks, but in the same breath he spared her brothers and saved her life. Brienne slipped her sword back into its sheath as she moved towards the woman cowering underneath a collapsed tree.

"Lady Sansa, are you hurt?" Brienne kneeled in front of the beautiful Sansa Stark.

Brienne was quite nervous to touch the red-haired woman, although her skin was covered. Having almost been assaulted by a man herself, Brienne knew what that looked like on another person. She stuck her hand out slowly and placed it on top of Lady Sansa's softly. Sansa's blue eyes looked into Brienne's, for the first time in a while, there was a genuine sense of hope and trust. Sansa lunged herself into the arms of Brienne, and Brienne had a strange feeling inside. Accomplishment yes, but a different kind of tingle, she's completed many tasks before but none of them had a residue quite like this.

"Lady Stark I-" Brienne tried to speak but Sansa interrupted.

"Brienne, I'm so sorry. I should have gone with you. I'm so stupid, I shouldn't have trusted Petyr." Sansa cried hysterically in the arms of Brienne.

"It was a difficult decision to make, my lady." Brienne helped the girl to her feet.

Sansa Stark was a tall girl, but she was nowhere near as tall as Brienne. Brienne was the tallest woman in the history of Westeros. She stuck out like a sword thumb, and it surely didn't help that she's not very feminine and dreamt of becoming a knight for all her life. Many toyed with the woman. They'd sneer and point as if she was some great beast. There were even rumors across the Seven Kingdoms that she was a half man and had a cock the size of her feet. But Sansa Stark didn't look at Brienne that way, at least not in this moment. She looked at Brienne like she was a god, her god, her savior.

"I swore to the old gods and the new to your mother that I would protect you, and I would gladly give my life for yours. Please allow me to keep my Oath" Brienne kneeled for Sansa.

Sansa couldn't help but crack a smile at how formal Brienne was. She accepted Brienne's offer admiring the blueness of the woman's eyes. She'd never seen eyes this shade of blue before. It was lovely. Brienne rose to her feet now towering over the girl again. The two shared an unusually long stare before Brienne guided Sansa over to the horses.

"I'm glad to see you alive and well, Lady Stark. I'm Podrick, Lady Brienne's squire" Pod introduced himself to the red-haired girl.

"What did I tell you about calling me Lady?" Brienne raised an eyebrow at Pod.

"Sorry" He responded with his head down and his tail between his legs.

"Just help Lady Sansa get on the back of the horse" Brienne rolled her eyes at Pods forgetfulness.

Pod created a solid foundation for Lady Sansa to step on by locking his fingers together. She placed her snow covered boot into the palm of his hand, and hoisted herself onto the back of Brienne's horse. Sansa wrapped her arms around Brienne's waist and that feeling she felt earlier was back. Her duty to the former Lady Stark must have been stronger than she imagined, or so she thought. Pod assembled their things, mounted his own horse, and the three set off for Castle Black.

They would arrive at the Castle just before the sun fell. The trio traveled in awkward silence for a little while until Brienne stopped to ask a question. She couldn't help but be intrigued by Sansa, her family, her journey, everything.

"Lady Sansa, forgive me for having to ask this. But are we sure we can trust this Snow character?" Brienne asked, clearly worried about the lady.

Sansa moved one of her hands from around Brienne's waist, placing it on her shoulder. Brienne only turned her head slightly to look back at Sansa. Something in her feared making eye contact with the girl for too long.

"He's my brother, Brienne. He won't let anything happen to me" Sansa spoke confidently about Jon.

"I won't let anything happen to you." Brienne restated to reassure the red-haired girl.

"How did you end up meeting my mother anyways?" Sansa asked nervously.

Brienne's head fell low at the thought of Catelyn Stark. Catelyn Stark was the only person who defended Brienne after she was blamed for the cause of Renly Baratheon. She couldn't help but be reminded of Lord Baelish's words in the tavern. She'd sworn to protect many, and failed repeatedly. The doubt started to settle in like too many drops of nightside. She grew slightly bitter over the fact that people thought she killed Renly. How could she kill the one man who ever treated her with decency? Brienne was more noble than the people thought, she could never be a Kingslayer, not to Renly. She says he was murdered by a shadow with the face of the king's own brother, but most don't believe in blood magic.

"Your mother was the only other person in the room with me that night. We watched a shadow appear, and stood there helplessly while it stabbed him in the chest." Brienne paused.

Talking about what happened to Renly Baratheon was difficult for Brienne. She had a special bond with the king because of a childhood encounter they had. He was kind to her, the only one that had been in awhile, apart from her family. Brienne lifted her up proudly before continuing to speak.

"I sought out to avenge Renly," Brienne said coldly. "But your mother sent me to deliver the Kingslayer home in exchange for you and Arya. You could imagine my disappointment when I arrived and neither of the Stark girls were there"

"Petyr sent for me before Joffrey hit the ground. He killed the king, using a stone from my necklace. The more I think about it, the more I realize it was probably a set up." Sansa said returning to that dark place she had been in for months.

The Lady had been through a tremendous amount of trauma over the last few years. But Brienne intended to put a stop to all that suffrage, even if it costs her her life. The trio continued to make their way to the wall. The sun continued to fall which allowed them to keep track of how long they've been at their journey, and how much longer it would take. Sansa fought to keep her eyes open but I think the beating, running, and falling from the Winterfell Castle during her escape was starting to get the best of her. Her eyes shut and her head rested against the back of Brienne's ice cold armor.

Pod couldn't help but be painfully obvious with his curiosity about their new traveling companion. If he didn't need to keep his eyes on the road at that exact moment, they'd drift over to Sansa. He watched the way she sat, the way her eyes moved when she looked at things, the way her hair bounced from the movement of the horses, but most importantly, he noticed how she behaved with Brienne. He probably was the first person to ever notice how she swooned over Brienne.

"Um, Brienne?" Podrick whispered to his knight.

"What is it?" She was clearly bothered by his line of questioning, before it was even asked.

"I don't think we are gonna make it to Castle Black by nightfall anymore. We should stop, get Lady Stark some food, some warmth. Hell, we all need it." Pod suggested.

As much as Brienne hated the thought of having to stop. She knew Pod was right, Sansa needs to be near a fire, she needs fresh clothes, and she needs food, we all do. Brienne agreed to stop in a nearby Tavern. It was on its way to the wall, but a bit closer to Winterfell than they were comfortable with. They had no other choice, this was the last place they could stop that would be more than just an empty spot in the forest. Brienne nodded at Podrick and he turned his horse off the path, leading the way. Brienne, Sansa, and Podrick arrived at the Tavern just as the sun fell.

"Lady Sansa" Brienne tapped the girl softly. "Lady Sansa"

The girl did not wake easily, Brienne couldn't help but wonder if the damages had taken a real toll on Sansa. But Brienne could feel the Lady's breaths through the freezing cold armor, right against her back.

"Lady Sansa, I'm sorry to be a bother but we need to disguise you before entering the tavern" Brienne shook the girl awake.

Sansa burst out of her sleep, clearly startled by the fact that she even fell asleep in the first place. Brienne ordered Pod to help the queen off the horse, then Beienne stepped down herself. Pod then went inside the Tavern just to make sure it was safe to bring her in. Brienne removed her overcoat and wrapped it around Sansa. She grew awfully close to the redhead and she lifted the hood of it over her head. Both Sansa and Brienne's eyes darted away as if there was something impure inside the pupil of the other. Brienne pulled away now awkwardly looking at the boots she'd been wearing for days. Another day in these and she'd expect both of her feet to fall off completely.

"You know when you first approached me here, I didn't trust you because of all your Lannister gear. But then when you mentioned my Mother and the Kingslayer I knew you were telling the truth, I just thought Petyr had my best interest in mind" Lady Sansa explained herself to Brienne.

"My Lady, there is no need to explain yourself. I'm just glad you're safe" Brienne locked eyes on Sansa.

"I'm glad that it was you, who found me" Lady Sansa smiled back at Brienne.

The two were locked into a gaze they've never quite shared with another woman, or with anyone for that matter. The comfort Sansa found in Brienne's presence made Brienne feel like the knight in shining armor she secretly always wanted to be. Pod came bursting out of the tavern with a cup of ale in the air.

"Sorry I took so long. The ladies wouldn't let me back out. It's safe for the Lady, Brienne" Pod grinned as he was dragged back into the tavern.

Brienne and Sansa looked at each other exchanging a laugh at Pods abruptness. Brienne opened the door for Sansa to enter first, and followed behind her with her hand on her sword. There were a few men in the room who stopped drinking ale and basking in the glory of whore tit to get a good look at the great Brienne. Which wasn't the greatest considering she was accompanied by a wanted squire and the even more wanted Lady of Winterfell. They recognized some to be men of the brotherhood. She worried one would recognize them and attempt to turn her in for some gold. Brienne rushed the lady to the furthest table in the corner of the room. Sansa climbed in the inner booth before Brienne slid in beside her.

"I've got us some soup and bread. I'm sure it's not as good as the food you had back at home, or even at the Lannisters for that much. I know the food I had there was pretty grand. Come to think of it, did you ever-"Podrick rambled until Brienne stopped him.

"Pod, enough" Brienne responded, taking the food from him.

She gave the first bowl and bread she took out his hands to Sansa, which didn't go unnoticed by the redhead. Then she took one for herself and began to eat almost immediately. Brienne didn't like to be referred to as a Lady for multiple reasons. And a few of them became clear to Pod and Sansa just by watching her eat. There was yellow soup dripping down her chin, and onto her armor. Bread crumbs on the corner of her mouth where her upper and bottom lip forge into their own. Pod coughs to try and get Briennes attention but it doesn't work. This time he coughed louder, clearly enunciating that he wanted her to look up.

"What Podrick, I'm hungry" Brienne was met by surprised looks from the pair.

Brienne looked down at the food on her Valyrian steel chest plate, now embarrassed by her savagery. Brienne took a wipe and wiped her face, hands, and chest plate before speaking.

"My deepest apologies Lady Stark. I was distracted by my hunger" Brienne apologized.

"That's quite alright Brienne. I'm feeling rather famished myself" Sansa said seriously before shoving soup and bread into her mouth.

"So delicious" She spoke with her mouth full.

Brienne and Pod looked at each other before cracking a smile at Sansa's attempt to make them laugh. She thought they were so serious, and you'd think she would be too after everything she just went through. But truthfully all she wanted was to laugh and play, so many years of her childhood taken away from her, she intended to gain them back.

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The tavern was able to feed them, and bring them some temporary warmth but that was all. There was nowhere for Brienne to get Sansa some warmer clothes, nowhere to draw her a bath, nowhere for them to lay their heads. Brienne and the Lady of Winterfell stood by the fire for as long as they could in attempts to dry the girl's clothes. Although they never did dry completely, it was enough to ensure that the girl would make it through the night. After the trio finished eating, Pod readied the horses and they continued on with their journey to Castle Black. They traveled for a few hours through the darkness, only able to see the snow and trees ahead. Brienne wanted to get as far away from Winterfell as they could before feeling it was safe enough for them to rest their heads. But Lady Sansa was dozing off, her grip loosening from Brienne's waist made her feel like she was losing her all over again. So they stopped, Pod set up an area for them to get a fire started while Brienne made a cozy spot for them to rest. Lady Sansa and Pod sat on big coats that had been placed on top of the snow. Brienne decided she would stay up and keep watch to make sure the Lady was safe.

Sometime through the night Pod would take his turn keeping watch, but for now Brienne was satisfied. She sat on a fallen log and kept her head on a swivel, reacting to any noise she heard. Next thing she knew the sun started to peak from the east side of the world. Finally the sun was starting to return to them. Pod slept through the entire night like a baby, and so did Sansa. Until now. Brienne noticed the Lady shaking so she took off her extra coat and wrapped it around the girl. But then Sansa began to move more abruptly, and she was mumbling words.

"No...please.... let me go... please" Sansa pleaded in her sleep.

A tear fell from her eye which hurt Brienne like a stab wound. Watching the girl panic in her sleep reminded her of her failure. If only she could have been more convincing, If only she fought a little harder, Sansa would have never wound up with Ramsey. Brienne pitied the obviously traumatized redhead so she woke her. Brienne shook her softly, and called out her name just above a whisper. Sansas eyes shot open while her body jolted in an upright position. Sansa breathed heavily as she checked her surroundings frantically. Her breathing only settled once Brienne placed a hand on top of hers. She looked into Brienne's crystal blue eyes, and was reminded that she was safe with her.

"I'm sorry to wake you my lady. You were having night terrors, and I... I thought I should." Brienne apologized sincerely.

"It's okay Brienne. I'm glad you did. Thank you" Sansa smiled softly at the taller woman.

They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes until Sansa realized she had Brienne's coat wrapped around her. Sansa reached to take it off her shoulders and return it to Brienne but was stopped by the blonde haired woman.

"I need you to stay warm my Lady" Brienne refused the coat back.

"And I need you alive. You'll freeze out here Brienne of Tarth." She grinned in a mocking tone. "Have you ever spent this many days out in the snow before?" Sansa raised an eyebrow.

Brienne didn't respond, knowing that she had never been exposed to the snow for this long. And as much as she wanted to be brave, it was getting to her. Sansa reached to take the coat off her shoulder again, this time she was uninterrupted by Brienne.

"Thank You, My Lady" Brienne bowed her head before putting her coat back on.

"So what's it like there?" Sansa questioned.

"Warm" Brienne responded with snark.

"Obviously, apart from that. I'd really like to know " Sansa pierced her dark ocean blue eyes into the light crystal ones.

Brienne found herself captivated by Sansa's beauty again. She looks down at her twiddling fingers before responding to Sansa.

"It was beautiful, a beautiful island. The ocean was sapphire blue, and the land had so many colorful flowers. The castle is hoisted up on these giant rocks. There's at least a thousand steps leading up to it." Brienne reminisced about her home.

A wave of sadness washed over her, similar to the way the waves of her home would when she laid on the shore after a rough day of sparring with the farm animals. There were so many positive memories about Tarth. Even a few secrets, but she couldn't help but think of her sudden departure. She couldn't shake the feeling that the things she left behind were worth returning for.

"But... I haven't been home for a very long time" Brienne spoke honestly.

"How come?" Sansa wondered.

"Because I didn't want to be just a lady." Brienne was clearly uninterested by that fate. "I wanted to be strong and brave, like a knight"

Truthfully Brienne always knew it would be difficult living her life. Back home it was known that Tarth children could grow to be pretty lanky. So having a giant daughter for an heir wasn't surprising, but getting respect from outsiders would always be difficult. Brienne never saw herself wearing the gowns, bowing to other lords, or marrying a man. She'd rather take the black.Now being a knight, that was a hell of a way to prove herself. From the time she was a not so small child she held a swore in her hand, her body covered in makeshift armor. Her father tried to keep it from her but that never worked, it was who she was destined to be.

"I know our lives aren't the same. But I didn't just want to be the daughter of a lord either. Now most of my family is dead" Sansa's head hung low.

"Apologies, My Lady. It brings me great pain that I wasn't there to protect Lord Rob or Lady Catelyn. I pledged my life to her, she should be here now. It is me who should have died at the Red Wedding." Brienne immediately went into a kneeling position.

"But if you died then, who would have saved me from Ramsay?" Sansa placed a hand on Brienne's face.

Sansa lifted Brienne's head up delicately. Truthfully she wanted to get a good look at the woman who saved her life. Sansa never imagined meeting someone like Brienne, and certainly not liking it. Sansa was so intrigued by everything about the woman, who she was, where she came from, why she did the things she did. It was all a mystery to Sansa, one she was desperately eager to know.

"I think you aren't as hard as you appear. I think you might actually just be rather sweet."

Sansa couldn't help but say the things she thought. Something about being with Brienne made her do those things. Brienne first looked shocked that Sansa spoke such words towards her. Then a hint of embarrassment hit her face, and embarrassment is contagious. Sansa started to feel self conscious about the words she uttered and pulled away from the bond they are seeming to form fast.

"Maybe we should wake Pod, and get on with our journey if you aren't going to rest at all," Sansa said, clearly bothered by the fact that Brienne isn't resting.

"I'll rest when you're safe at Castle Black" Brienne stood up swiftly.

Sansa stood up along with Brienne. She woke Pod as Brienne readied the horses and assembled their things. The sun was still making its way over towards the west side of the world, or rather the earth was making its way towards the sun. Regardless, the trio continued their journey to Castle Black. Based on what the three of them combined knew about the distance between Castle Winterfell and Castle Black, they figured they'd arrive any moment now. So they talked. Pod told stories of what he and Tyrion Lannister were involved in, basically every moment from the time they met to the time they parted. Brienne told stories of her journey away from the Island, how she had the opportunity to prove her worth to Lord Renly. And Sansa, well she only wished to listen being that life after her fathers death was pretty gruesome. Not much to recount after something like that.

"Anyone know of any songs we can sing?" Pod suggested.

"No Pod" Brienne turned him down sternly.

"I actually recall one I used to sing as a little girl" Sansa perked up.

Sansa began to hum tune, and then the words came out. Pod and Brienne listened to see if they knew it, but it didn't ring any bells. Brienne stopped the horses to listen closely to the surrounding noises of the men in the woods

"Pod, dismount the lady, take her to the side. There's someone coming" Brienne spoke softly and low.

Pod quickly got himself and the lady off of their horses and fled behind anotherl fallen tree. Brienne continued to move forward slowly on her horse hoping she wouldn't run into much trouble. It was more of Boltons men, anyone within a ten foot radius could feel the cold air going thin. Being in the presence of people who would even defend such a man, left Sansa shaking to her core.

"Excuse me Ser, have you seen-" One of them suddenly stopped. "Are you a woman?"

Brienne didn't respond to such ignorance. She sat on the horse looking at the men coldly. The five of them stood side by side waiting for Brienne to say something.

"We asked you a question" They tried to intimidate Brienne but she wasn't going for it.

"Have I seen whom?" Brienne finally spoke.

"Lady Sansa Bolton, a redheaded girl. Might have been with a dirty man. No shoes, he hasn't bathed or eaten in days" The men laughed at the deceased Greyjoy.

"No nothing like it. Now if you are done being a bother I must go on with my journey" Brienne was certainly bothered by the men.

"And what's that?" The Bolton man all the way on the left asked.

"It's really none of your concern" Brienne was starting to feel annoyed by the men.

One man opened his mouth to respond but a horn blowing interrupted them. More Bolton men claiming to have their eyes on Sansa and Theon in the complete opposite direction.

"You're lucky, big bitch" He spat towards her.

The group of men turned their horses around and bolted after the rest of their group. Brienne walked and waited several minutes before letting the Pod and Sansa come out of hiding. Pod helped the lady get back on the horse for what felt like the twelfth time in two days.

"Thank You, Brienne" Sansa wrapped her arms around Brienne's waist.

The trio moved fast towards Castle Black, they knew the longer they were out here the more they'd be in danger. A few hours passed and the three were waiting outside Castle Black. A few of the men raised the gates and then walked outside to confront them. They were feeling nervous about how this might go down, but Sansa knows Jon enough to trust him.

"Can I help you?" An older man approached.

"Hello I am Brienne of Tar-" Brienne stepped up to speak but was interrupted by Sansa.

"Go get Jon Stark. Tell him his sister Sansa is here, alive and well, at Castle Black" Sansa began to walk through the gates.

Brienne and Pod stumbled after the girl, standing on both sides of her to keep her safe. And as always the men stared but they couldn't quite tell if it was because of Brienne or Sansa. Both of them felt this way, and they both felt comfortable in the fact that they were both something to stare at, together. A young shorter gentleman with curly black hair came down the steps, with two other men behind him. Everyone in the room watched as Jon Stark laid eyes on his little sister Sansa for the first time in six years. Sansa took off running as Jon flew down the steps, he picked her up and spun her around. Filling the air with laughter the town of Winterfell hasn't heard since they were kids. Brienne and Pod sat back with smiles on their faces, they fulfilled their duty and it was a sight to see.

"Jon" Sansa practically cried in his arms.

"It's good to see you, Sansa" Jon smiled as he held her head in his hands.

Jon's eyes shifted from Sansa to the two people standing behind her, Pod and Brienne. Brienne towered over Jon Snow, and Pod was just a bit taller than him. His eyes shifted back to Sansa puzzled by their presence.

"This is Brienne Tarth and Podrick. They're the reason I'm here" Sansa stepped to the side and introduced her men.

Jon took a long look at the pair, and then he smiled widely. He nodded his head at the two of them and thanked them for their great deed. Sansa and Jon disappeared upstairs into his office, while Brienne and Pod made themselves comfortable with the men of the Night's Watch.

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Sansa spent the last few nights sleeping in a drafty room at Castle Black. She'd never been here before, and judging by the looks of it she hoped to never return.The walls were damp and grey. Similar to Winterfell of course, but this was much more depressing. The expressions of the men here were tired, frightened, hungry, or a mixture of all three. She managed to get a good look at the Wall feeling slightly unnerved by something that.

Despite the lack of comfortability with the rock hard mattress she'd slept on, she was happy to see her brother. She never imagined she'd see Jon again, and their difficult relationship in childhood made interacting with him now feel unnatural. But ultimately she was just glad to have someone with her blood around, Northern Stark blood. Sansa and

Jon had discussed several different things since they've reunited. The Queen with dragons, the Night King, The Boltons, Lord Baelish, everything. But the first on their agenda was getting back to Winterfell. That's the only way they'd be able to stop the army of the dead before it took all of Westeros. Jon made cries on the end of the world, and Sansa had a hard time hearing it. If it were anyone else uttering these words, Sansa would have left before they even started. But she knew Jon Snow would never lie about such a thing, let alone his own sister.

While Pod and Brienne had gotten real cozy with the Men of the Night's Watch and the Wildlings too. A tall ginger man that goes by the name of Tormund has taken a particular liking to Brienne as well, but she would never be bothered with such savagery. Instead she has been spending her time watching over Sansa Stark. Although she was safe in her brother's arms, something within Brienne didn't want to let up. That's why just before the sun rose this morning, Brienne found herself outside of Sansa's chamber, sword in hand. She woke up with the feeling that something was coming for her today. The door knob rattled and Brienne turned to face the door, startled by the noise. Sansa was surprised but flattered to see Brienne outside her door. Brienne tried to guard her door during the first night they arrived and Sansa dismissed her. Now here she was, waiting outside.

"Brienne, what are you doing out here?" Sansa asked innocently.

"I just- I need to make sure you are safe, my Lady" Brienne spoke honestly.

Sansa looked at Brienne for a while before responding. Brienne felt nervous that she was caught by Sansa, she could be mean when she wanted to, and Brienne was disobeying an order.

"Well if you insist on protecting me, you could at least come inside. I haven't slept much since we arrived." Sansa stood with her hands behind her back.

Most highborns hold themselves this way, it amused Brienne simply because she never learned to be so ladylike. While Sansa believes she was born to be a lady, a Queen really. Sansa returned near her bedside watching Brienne explore the room. Brienne found a lovely painting of former Men of the Night's Watch. The green eyed monster crept into Brienne's mind, she hated seeing photos of men bonding like this. Because this was all she ever wanted, a band of brothers, sworn to fight and protect a just Lord. Maybe even the King himself.

"Can I ask you a question, Brienne?" Sansa looked at Brienne.

"Of course, my Lady," Brienne responded.

"Have you ever laid with a man . . . willingly of course?" Sansa inquired, getting nervous about the last portion of her sentence.

Brienne grew tense at that question, she wasn't the first to ask and she surely won't be the last. Brienne has only had one man in her life that she cared for, and he's been dead for a few years now. A part of her questioned whether her love for Renly only grew because he didn't see her as loveless. No one really looked at Brienne the way they looked at other women, so she grew accustomed to not looking at anyone that way. Tormund was the first man she felt had a genuine longing for her, one that went beyond using her for jester. She wasn't quite sure how to put it, but the thought of that made her even more uncomfortable. As she's mentioned before, that kind of man has never piqued her interest.

"No, I haven't my Lady" Brienne responded simply.

"I don't think I'll ever lie with anyone willingly" Sansa lowered her head.

"Lucky for you, there are finer things in life" Brienne tried to cheer the Lady up.

Sansa began to tear up thinking about her past. The longest night she ever lived, and not just her horrid wedding night, but the past hundreds of nights. Ever since the night following her fathers execution, the sun hasn't risen since then, not for her. Brienne came to the Ladies side, offering her a tissue to wipe her tears, and when Sansa refused to take the napkin, Brienne wiped her eyes for her.

"You are far too pretty to be crying, My Lady" Brienne looked at her gently.

There was a knock on Lady Sansa's door, the two of them jumped up and away from each other. Almost like they were caught doing something less than innocent, something forbidden. Sansa opened the door letting Jon Stark into her room. He looked at the two with shifty eyes and a raised brow. He wondered why the two were together in her bedroom so early.

"Oh Brienne's was just here to check on me. She is very protective of me. You should be glad" Sansa spoke in a sparky tone towards her brother.

"I see . . . If you don't mind Lady Brienne, I'd like to speak with my sister alone" Jon asserted himself into the room.

"It's ju-" Brienne was interrupted by Sansa.

"Just Brienne, Jon" Sansa corrected him.

Sansa looked towards Brienne nodding her head in confidence. She was proud to know Brienne, and even more so to correct people when they said or did things she didn't like. Brienne lowered her head so no one else in the room would see the embarrassing peach color that burned into her pale cheeks. She exited the room, closed the door behind her and made her way back to her own private chambers downstairs. Jon sat at the empty chair behind the very messy coffee table. Sansa wasn't used to cleaning up after herself. The empty dishes she'd sloshed down in the middle of night began to pile into a stack taller than the Wall itself

"I received a letter from Ramsay. He says if I don't return you and swear fealty to him as Warden of the North. He will kill Rickon" Jon looked worried.

His sister had never seen this expression on him. In fact she didn't really know him apart from bitter sulking. As a child she simply didn't care to know her fathers bastard, she didn't think he'd ever be one of them.

"Does he really have Rickon?" Sansa could barely get out.

"He sent us his wolf's head" Jon's fists balled up

"If he has Rickon, we won't get him back, Jon. No matter what you do" Sansaa felt defeated at this moment.

No one knew Ramsay the way Sansa did, and that terrified her more than the man himself. It was easy to underestimate a legitimized bastard, they did it to Jon. Jon informed Sansa that he would speak to the Men of the Night's Watch and the Wildlings. She knew she would need help acquiring allies in the North. Not only was she a woman, but a woman in a consummate marriage. By law, she was a Bolton now. But Sansa didn't want to think about that. The more time she spent thinking about it, the more it made it true and it simply wasn't. She'd always be a Stark, always be the direwolf that keeps on coming. While Jon spoke to the men at the castle, it became Sansa's duty to get the word out. The people of the North were very loyal, especially to the Starks, and getting them to aid in the battle to take back Winterfell seemed easy like it would be so simple to Sansa.

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Sansa drew herself a bath and cleaned herself up. She slipped into a dress the men found in one of the abandoned rooms of the castle. Though it wasn't a highborn ladies craft, the dull coating and thickness reminded her that she was back home. Putting the dress on today was surreal for Sansa, she never thought she would see the North again, let alone have an opportunity to take back Winterfell. She left her chambers and made her way downstairs so she could send out letters to her allies. As Sansa walked down the steps she noticed Brienne and Pod training for the battle. Brienne was showing Pod how to fight like a proper knight, even if she wasn't one. Pod swung his sword fully to the left leaving his ride side open for Brienne to hit.

"Never dive in fully in one direction except forward" Brienne corrected Pod. "Again"

They began to spar again, Pod swinging his sword left and right. He was keeping up with the Great Brienne for a while, and then she slipped her foot behind his back leg. Brienne extended her hand out to help Pod up. Sansa stood on the steps watching it all happen, Brienne looked up at Lady Sansa, which gave Pod enough time to pick up his sword. He hit Brienne on the shoulder with it.

"Pay attention," Pod laughed.

Brienne didn't respond, she just stared at him angrily. Sansa couldn't help but laugh at the energy between the two of them. Sansa entered the writing room of the castle to send out ravens about needing more alliances. She stopped mid letter to think about how these letters were delivered. If Ramsay got a hold of them all of this would be for nothing. She crumbled up the papers, tossing it across the room out of frustration. A brilliant idea hit Sansa, she would ask Lady Brienne and Pod to go see a few allies. The Lady rose from her chair, shifting gracefully across the room. She poked her head through the doorway calling for Brienne to come into the room.

A minute followed and Brienne entered the room. She had removed her steel plated armor, beads of sweat dripped down the side of her face outlining her sharp jaw. Brienne looked up at Sansa, her crystal blue eyes made Sansa feel uneasy, and she knew she had a difficult task at hand.

"I need you to go visit my great uncle, ask him to join the fight to take back Winterfell" Sansa spoke just waiting for Brienne to protest.

"My Lady, couldn't you send a Raven" Brienne stood up immediately.

Flashbacks to Sansa walking away with Petyr replayed in her mind like an old movie camera stuck on a frame, clicking and replaying, forcing you to remember every detail. Brienne took this moment in her life particularly hard, she thinks that if she wouldn't have been so easy to give up, Sansa would have avoided great troubles in her life.

"I cannot. If Ramsay were to intercept one of said ravens, the battle would be over before we even arrived" Sansa tried to explain to her clearly worried protector.

"What if I sent Podrick instead" Brienne was desperate, she'd do anything to not have to leave Sansa's side again.

"It must be you. I trust you, and so will my uncle" Sansa assured the gentle giant.

Brienne was perplexed by the situation, it was her duty to obey and abide by whatever it was her Lady Sansa wanted, but it was also her duty to protect her from any possible harm and how could she do that from miles away. She didn't wish to argue with the Lady anymore, Brienne didn't take much interest in challenging what her commander had to say, even if it hurt her. Brienne sent Pod to ready their horses, the sooner they left the sooner they'd be able to get back. Sansa saw to it that Pod and Brienne had everything they needed before departing and assured the pair that she wouldn't leave the castle.

Besides, she and Jon had a lot to do. Jon commanded all of the men at Castle Black to prepare their things. Finally uniting the Wildlings and the Westerosis for good. They would only be returning to Castle Black if triumph was not in their favor, if Ramsay Bolton allowed for that sort of thing. They would collect allies on their way to Winterfell and no matter how many allies they collected, they would fight, and win.

Nightfall came faster than the ravens, soon enough everyone was on their horses moving their way south of the North. It tore Lady Sansa up inside to break her promise to Brienne and Pod, but taking back Winterfell was incredibly important to her.

Jon, Sansa, the Wildings, and the Men of the Night's Watch, traveled until the sun came up to talk to their first allies of the North, the Mormonts. During their journey here Jon informed Sansa that this was a more difficult task then they wished to take on. Sansa forgets that her older brother Rob gathered alliances in the North and they were all slaughtered at the Red Wedding. Not only were there not enough men in the North to help defeat the Boltons, but if they were they wouldn't put their faith in the Starks again. It took a lot of convincing to get Lady Mormont to send her troops into battle, but she did and that's what's important.

The battle area started to become filled more and more by the hour. The tents were up, the armory was stocked, the makeshift taverns were stocked, and the men were geared up and ready for the fight. But Sansa was getting a bad feeling about this battle, she didn't feel they were fully prepared.

"Jon, I'm telling you. We don't have enough for the fight" Sansa followed after her brother who clearly wasn't listening to her.

He charged around the campgrounds looking around for his friend. They'd be going back and forth for a little while now. Sansa remained on his heels and his case, pleading for him to listen.

"I've told you before, it's now or never" Jon stopped in his tracks to face his sister.

"What's the point in deploying the army if it isn't going to hold against the Boltons" Sansa crossed her arms.

"Sansa, you don't know anything about war. Just let me handle it" Jon was getting tired of arguing with his sister.

"But I can count, our two thousand men, compared to their five thousand isn't enough. Can't it wait just a little longer" Sansa tried to plead.

"No, in two days we take our home back. And that's final" Jon stormed off having enough of Sansa.

Sansa was clearly worried about the battle, but she was more so nervous about Brienne's return. A part of her hopes she will make it back in time before the battle, they'll need strong fighters if they want to win. But another half of her hopes she misses it, that way she won't have to spend the battle worrying about Brienne. Sansa needed to be able to focus on defeating the Boltons, that way she could have her revenge on Ramsay.

Chapter Text

The battle between the legitimized bastards was meant to take place tomorrow. The God of Light still somewhat shined, giving them the ability to remain outside and train. The grunts and clashing of swords mixed in with the chilling silent breeze of the air. The snow hadn't stopped falling for almost a week now, and the North was covered in it. Which told Sansa the reason Brienne wasn't back yet. A raven was sent out to Lady Sansa, claiming that she failed to gather her great uncles support in the battle. Sansa couldn't feel more uneasy about this. She hoped that it would be enough for the battle, but just in case it wasn't, she had one more trick up her sleeve. Another victorious route out of the Battle of the Bastards.

There wasn't much for Sansa to do around the camp. Winterfell stood on its own for miles, nothing but an empty small watch tower stood there. It wasn't like she was preparing to fight, and her only other friend in the North besides Brienne was Pod. Sansa spent her past day in her tent, sewing dresses and reading books to keep herself amused. Waiting for an anxiety-riddled battle wasn't something that came natural to her. In fact, anything that involved the possible death of someone she cares gravely for made her tense. She's dealt with way more of that than anyone could handle.

Sansa heard someone approaching her tent, she looked up nervously waiting for them to enter. Someone flickered with the tent material cursing as they failed to pull them back. Finallythe curtains drew back . Samwell Tarly entered, another man of the Night's Watch, also Jon's best friend.

"Sam, you frightened me" Sansa let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, sorry about that. I only came in to talk. It would seem we haven't had enough to get to know each other properly" Samwell smiled politely at the girl.

Sansa was intrigued by the man simply wanting to know her. His overt friendliness worried her a bit, she didn't trust men like this. But if he was a friend of Jon's she figured she would let her walls come down a bit. Plus, she would take any conversation at this point, she was desperate. Sam spoke to her about his life, his family, how he ended up guarding the wall, and his woman Gilly. Sansa couldn't believe that he still spoke with a smile on his face after everything they've been through beyond the wall.

"Do you think we have a chance, do you really think we can beat the dead?" Sansa felt ridiculous saying these words out loud, but she knew it was true.

"I really hope so," Sam replied honestly.

Samwell went back to his tent with Gilly, while Sansa snuck out of hers. She needed to meet with someone before the battle began, that one last trick up her sleeve. Sansa informed Jon that she was just going to this tower to take a look inside, nothing else. Jon felt suspicious about his sister's request, but he knew nothing dangerous was up there so he allowed it. Sansa rode her horse for a few miles before reaching the entry of the tower. She lifted her head for what felt like centuries, the tower was huge. Then she went inside.

While Sansa was off in secrecy, her knight and squire had just returned to camp. Brienne was left feeling defeated after not being able to convince Sansa's uncle that this was a battle worth fighting for. She was too afraid to confront the girl, and everyone else, knowing she couldn't complete one task.

"You're too hard on yourself, Brienne," Pod reminded the tall blonde.

"I know Pod" Brienne only spoke to convince him she was okay.

As much as she didn't want to she figured it was time to look for Sansa. Brienne and Pod returned their horses to where they were set to stay until the battle. A defeated Brienne and a worrisome Podrick made their way to Lady Sansa's tent to talk with her, but they were intercepted by Jon.

"If you're looking for my sister, she went off in that tower," Jon pointed out.

"What's she doing out there" Pod beat Brienne to the question.

"After a while you learn not to argue with Sansa" Jon shrugged and continued to manage the camp.

Pod and Brienne faced each other growing in even more shock when they noticed they held similar expressions, uneasiness. Brienne instructed Pod to get some rest before the battle tomorrow and she would go see what Sansa was doing in the tower.

Sansa was unimpressed by the man she stood before, clearly onto his antics. Sansa agreed to meet with Petyr Baelish before the battle to discuss something. She could barely look at him without seeing the evil grin of Ramsay. For a moment she felt like curling into a ball in the corner. She'd cry and ask him what she ever did to deserve something like that. But Sansa knew she wasn't that girl anymore, she simply couldn't be if she wanted to survive. And she did, that way she could see everyone who ever caused her pain suffer worse than she did.

"Did you know what kind of man he was?" Sansa choked out.

"He still will be that man if you can't defeat him tomorrow" He responded slyly.

Littlefinger was always trying to sneak a hidden message, or offer under his common words. Sansa trusted him for a while, because of his love for her mother. But other things were starting to suggest that Petyrs concept of love was warped.

"Did you know?" Sansa raised her voice, getting angry with him.

"Sansa, I" He could barely even speak.

"Did you know he had his way with me four times on our wedding night" Sansa's anger was beginning to control her. "Or that he beat me everywhere but my face. He needed my face to befriend the rest of the North."

Littlefinger couldn't respond to anything Sansa had to say. He knew the Boltons were crazy but he didn't think something like this would have happened to the girl. He truly did love her and her mother, but not more than he loved himself.

"He kept me in whatever broken enough condition he could as long as I could bear his children." Sansa moved closer to him, tears falling profusely down her face.

"Sansa, I never meant to hurt you. I swear it" He tried to apologize.

"You owe me" Sansa ended the conversation.

Sansa left the tower to see her knight riding for her. Some of the heavy dark weight in her chest floated away like a free bird in sight of the blonde. Those two days had started to feel like a lifetime, without her and for some reason Sansa had a hard time imagining what that looked like the more she grew to know Brienne. The gentle bashful grin of Brienne faded away when her eyes finally laid on the skunk-stripe haired man. She hated the way he held his posture, the way his clothes fell, and that smug stupid grin always plastered to his devious face. She didn't trust him at first, and now, knowing what he did to Lady Stark she loathed him. Brienne dismounted her horse, her breathing grew heavy as her eyebrows furrowed in anger. She drew her sword fast, somewhat startling both Sansa and Littllefinger before holding it to the man's neck. She didn't say a word, instead she squinted her eyes and drew her face up in disgust. She recognized him for the slimy disgusting filth he was. She was more than ready to end his life, but of course Sansa intervened.

"Brienne, it's alright" Sansa placed her hand on top of the arm Brienne was holding the sword with.

Brienne looked to her Lady, giving her eyes of advice. She hoped Sansa would understand the worry in her face. Sansa nodded now gently pushing down Brienne's arm. She obeyed the command and withdrew her sword, slipping it back into the sheath on her weapon belt. But she didn't move a muscle, and wouldn't until the tricky little Littlefinger was gone.

"No need to be afraid, Lord Baelish. I won't have Brienne cut you down. Not quite yet" Sansa smirked, turning her back on the man.

Brienne helped Lady Sansa mount her horse before getting back on hers. They rode back towards the tents where the battle was set to start in the next several hours. Sansa couldn't help but feel something was off was Brienne. As their horses trotted back to the campgrounds, Brienne's sights remained locked on whatever was in front of her. She didn't speak to nor look at Sansa. The redhead felt slightly conflicted, was she angry that she didn't get to kill Littlefinger? They returned the horses back to their makeshift stables before returning to their tents set up beside one anothers. Sansa watched from her peripheral vision as Brienne yanked the curtain back. She feared the whole thing would come back while wincing at the force applied to it. Sansa could no longer fight her curiosity. Instead of returning to her quarters, she hiked up the ends of her gown and stormed after Brienne.

The blonde sat hunched over with her face buried in her hands. For a moment, Sansa thought she wasn't aware of her presence. But with their blossoming connection, she figured she didn't need to speak to let Brienne know she was, in fact, there.

"What's wrong Brienne?" Sansa looked at her longingly.

Brienne couldn't bear to look the girl in the eyes, she felt incredibly guilty about not being able to assemble allies. Sansa knew it too, she could tell by the wording of the letter, the postures Brienne exudes in front of her. She knew Brienne was being too hard on herself.

"I'm sorry. I failed you my lady" Brienne kneeled for her Lady.

"Brienne, you didn't fail. I sent you out to achieve a rather difficult task. I was aware of the possibility when I sent you. You are completely without fault, only filled to the brim with honor" Sansa spoke to the still kneeling woman.

Sansa walked over to the kneeling woman, she guided her pale white finger under Brienne's chin. She felt awkward being on her knees, especially for another woman. Still something about this felt more right than anything else she'd ever done before. Brienne's crystals shifted around nervously as the rhythm of her heartbeat grew louder and louder. She tried to avoid getting a good look at Sansa. Whenever she did, she couldn't take her eyes away, unnatural thoughts filled her mind, and she would begin to sweat like a stuck pig.

"Look at me," Sansa spoke firmly

Brienne obeyed, focusing her cloudy crystal eyes onto the piercing blue ones. She lifted them both up to their feet, now towering over Sansa. They couldn't help but feel slightly dirty in secret pleasure of the moment they enjoyed. It was something more intimate than they've ever experienced, more intimate than anything they'd ever imagined for themselves. Brienne found herself leaning downwards, her eyelids falling slowly, her lips puckering up to do the unthinkable. And just as their lust filled lips were about to connect, horns blasted off.

Men began to yell commands. Brienne and Sansa pulled away from each other. The blonde rubbed her damp hands against the cloth material of her pants refusing to make any eye contact with Sansa. She prepared her mind for war. She was going to destroy Ramsay and his army. Brienne charged out of the tent, still somewhat flustered by the events that just happened. She thanked the Gods for making sure she was already suited in her elegant black armor when it came time for battle. Sansa moved her fingertips to her lips. She gently traced over them feeling a sense of emptiness loom over them. Then her mind went to Gilly and Little Sam. She found her way to their tent, wanting to make sure they remained safe until it was time for her to make the next move.

It took some time but the battlefield was fully loaded. The Bolton men sigil would have some of the bravest men, cowering. They were one of the North's noble houses before. Typically they never did anything beyond what they were instructed to. But many Northern men showed their true colors when the time came. Jon stood at the front of the battlefield, his comrades behind him. It didn't take long for the battle to intensify either, Ramsay Bolton had just unmasked little Rickon. The men in the field stood still like crops on a still sky day for a while, and then Rickon began running. Jon immediately went after the boy on his horse, moving as fast as the horse could possibly take him. Ramsay Bolton shot off an arrow that nearly grazed Rickons shoulder. That was when everyone watching knew what we were up to. Jon slapped the back of his horse desperately hoping that it would go faster, but it didn't. Ramsay shot off another arrow, which also thankfully missed Rickon. It seemed as if Jon was actually going to be able to save his brother. He stuck his hand out to grab the boy, but his body was pierced into the ground by a flaming arrow.

Jon stopped his horse, a glimpse of defeat shimmering over his heavy sunken eyes. He yelled so loud that all of the North could hear it, then so did everyone else. The Bolton men and Jon's men charged at each other, shields up and spears in hands. It took a while for them to collide, the field was huge, but when they did. You could fill a pool with how much blood had been shed. Hundred of Wildings and Night's Watch dead, hundreds of Bolton men dead. And anyone with eyes could see who was losing the fight. What Sansa said about not having enough men was true. The Bolton men circled around Jon and his army. He became overwhelmed with his duty, guilty with the fate of his comrades,and pure foolish for not listening to his sister. Then took what they thought to be their last few swings with great honor, and then the men of the Vale rushed in.

The Bolton men were shocked by the additional army, and so was Jon. Just over the mountain near the tower appeared Lord Baelish and Lady Sansa. She only met with Petyr because she knew he would follow through. Littlefinger sides with anyone who will get him closer to what he wants, and this time his honor laid on the North. The Vale flooded the field, wiping out every man in that circle. Jon had freed himself from the circle, setting after Ramsay with their Giant friend Wun Wun. Ramsay fled back behind the walls of Winterfell, but Wun Wun could knock out the gate in a second and he did. They killed every Bolton man left inside Winterfell, taking Ramsay for capture, leaving him for Sansa to deal with. Jon rode a horse back to the battlefield to check on his men, alert them of the victory, and get them into Winterfell to aid the wounded.

Sansa and Lord Baelish smiled at each other, making their way back to Winterfell. He had fallen perfectly into her trap and he didn't even know it. All that was really left for Sansa to do was return to Winterfell and help prepare the entirety of Westeros to prepare for the fight against the dead.

Chapter Text

A week passed since the Battle of the Bastards. Sansa more than enjoyed the sight of Ramsay's starving hounds picking over the remains of his limbs. She'd never forget the way he wailed, just in the way she'd never forget the way she did when he broke her in. It wasn't enough to erase all the pain she endured but it was a great start. She felt that knowing that one of her enemies was no longer around to torment her she could sleep better. The dreams she'd been having about the blonde seemed to disrupt that sleep occasionally. She'd wake up completely wet, and not just on her forehead, calling the woman's name so loudly, that one time she genuinely feared the idea of Brienne hearing her.

Sansa easily slipped back into the mechanics of Winterfell like slipping into a glove. And all within a week, things changed. Jon was appointed King of the North by the people, but then left two days later. He had traveled South to meet with Daenareys, the woman they needed to recruit if they wanted to survive the fight against the dead. Making Sansa the head of the house while he was away. Lord Baelish snaked around the place dropping his unwarranted knowledge in where he could. Pod was pretty bruised up from the battle. He spent a few days with the Maester then Brienne had him back on his feet practicing for the fight against the dead. This left the two women with little time to talk, to enjoy the thrill of enjoying each other's company in ways that felt forbidden, as more than just an Oath to fulfill.

This truly bothered Sansa being that the last time they spoke, it seemed as if Brienne was going to kiss her. It bothered Brienne just as much because, well she really was going to kiss her. There was just too much preparation that needed to be done before they could address what they both so desperately wanted back there, so they avoided each other. Until today. Brienne and Pod were training in the sparring grounds of Winterfell, which just so happened to be fairly close to the bedchambers Lady Stark slept in. She walked along the balcony spotting Brienne and Pod. Her eyes lit up in excitement.

She watched Brienne swing her sword down against Podricks harshly. The sight sent a rushing feeling to Sansa, one that fighting never gave her. Her mind quickly traveled to the dream she had last night. She gripped the wooden handrail tightly as she closed her eyes. Her black leather gloves protected her hand from the icy coldness of the snow that piled up on it. Lost in a world of sexual lust, the girl bit her lip as she tried to reel herself back to real life. Luckily, or maybe not so luckily, Lord Baelish entered her presence now bursting the bright pink bubble Sansa found herself floating away in.

"What do you want, Littlefinger" Sansa said, clearly bothered by his presence.

"I just wanted to know how the Queen of Winterfell is settling back home" Lord Baelish smiled slyly. "Is there anything you need, I could get it for you"

"I'm not the Queen and peace and quiet would have sufficed, but I guess this will have to do" Sansa replied.

Brienne could see the dark energy that loomed over Baelish with her eyes closed and her back turned. She stopped Podrick from a moment now turning her attention to Lady Stark and the man she despised. She couldn't help but be consumed by the agitation their conversation brought. She continued to spar with Podrick, trusting her peripheral vision to keep tabs on them. Pod picks his sword up off the ground, getting back into position to fight while too noticing the man and the lady Brienne was sworn to protect.

"Your mother would be proud to see her little girl ruling over Winterfell." Littlefinger continued.

"It's only temporary. Let's not get too excited" Sansa spoke.

"It doesn't have to be You take precedence over a bastard. Everyone knows that." Baelish spoke, revealing his plan.

"Silly concepts like those don't hold well in the North. Jon has earned both their loyalty and their trust. He'll be a good king" Sansa responded through gritted teeth.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, my Lady. But you and I are responsible for the Stark name's return to Castle Winterfell" He said slyly.

Although she couldn't hear a word, Brienne's anger spilled over like a boiling pot of water. She threw her sparring sword into the ground now replacing it Oathkeeper and rushed up the stairs to defend the Stark girl. Lady Sansa and Littlefinger were startled by Brienne's abrupt appearance. Both flattered but only one was in a sadistic kind of manner. Brienne stood strongly in her interruption.

"Your presence is unwanted by the Lady" Brienne held it out again.

"That's the second time you've raised your sword to me Lady Brienne" He backed away slowly with his hands raised up. "I do hope that the next time you can find the courage to use it"

"My Lady, my lady" Littlefinger bowed to them both before making his exit.

Brienne grimaced at the fading figure of the man while her sword found its way back by her side. The two women stood awkwardly silent for a minute before attempting to speak at the same time. Sansa found herself frustrated with the way Brienne behaved. Especially because she figured the woman was avoiding her. She projected her confusion about the situation onto the woman despite knowing she didn't deserve it.

"Is there something you wish to say to me Brienne?" Sansa spoke with a harsh tone in her voice.

"What... No... Uh... Nothing, My Lady" Brienne stuttered through the interaction.

"You marched up here seeming as if you wished to proclaim something, no?" Sansa continued with her cold words.

"No, it just seemed as if Littlefinger was up to no good. Why is he still here?" Brienne tried to reason with the fiery redhead.

"Because like it or not. The Vale is the reason we were able to take back Winterfell." Sansa explained. "Is that really all you wish to say to me?"

"What would you wish for me to say My Lady" Brienne was confused by the unwarranted aggression.

"You don't wish to talk about what happened in the tent a week ago?" Sansa put it out into the air.

Brienne was taken aback by Sansa's bold approach to their very delicate situation. There were a million reasons why they simply could not talk about what happened back there, and Brienne respected all of them. Of course, Sansa didn't see it in the same light. She was too concerned with feeling like despite how unlawful it may have been, there were no other people in all of Westeros who deserved to be happy. To say she didn't somewhat fear the consequences of these thoughts would be a lie. But it simply wasn't strong enough to tie her down. The little dove was tired of being caged and confined by those who didn't have her best interest at heart.

"My Lady, we-" Brienne tried to defend herself but was interrupted.

"It's alright, you're dismissed Brienne" Sansa didn't dare to look at the woman any longer.

"My Lady!" Brienne protested the statement.

"I hereby release you of your Oath If you do ever find Arya, take her end of the Oath up with her. If you'd like to stay for the battle against the dead, that's fine. But I won't blame you if you decide not to" Sansa was finished with the conversation. "Goodbye Brienne"

Brienne couldn't muster up any courage to speak. Lady Sansa's words cut her deeply. Just as the girl began to storm off in a fuming pit of fiery rage, Podrick called for her.

Lady Sansa you must come quick" Pod abruptly interrupted.

Sansa rushed past a broken Brienne, leaving her alone on the stairwell. Pod guided the lady across the sparring ground and to the gate of Winterfell. Where her brother Bran sat in a topless wagon. Sansa stopped in her tracks blinking to clear her eyes of her deceitful imagination. Once she realized it wasn't working she rushed over to her crippled brother embracing him in a tearful hug. Bran hugged the girl back with a decent sized grin on his face.

"Bran, I can't believe it's really you," Sansa cried out.

"It's good to see you again Sansa. It really is" Bran spoke in a voice unfamiliar to his sister.

Everything about the boy was unfamiliar now, starting with the fact that he isn't even a boy anymore. He was a man, his hair was short, facial hair coming in. His legs still grew even though they didn't work, he was a sight for sore eyes. Brienne eventually joined the rest of the castle and watched the two interact with a half-cocked smile. Overwhelmed with anger and pain, she excused herself from outside and returned to her bedchamber.

It was almost time for supper at Castle Winterfell, Sansa made sure everything was prepared for her people before returning to Bran. Sansa requested that someone help bring her brother down to the dining hall. They sat next to each other at the royal table in front of the entirety of residents in Winterfell. Sansa noticed that both Brienne and Pod weren't there but she couldn't be bothered to deal. They ate their vegetable and meat soup with bread silently before Bran decided to speak.

"I'm sorry for everything you went through Sansa. I saw it" Bran confused the redhead.

"What do you mean you saw it?" Sansa looked at her brother.

"Let's dive deeper into that later. I want to enjoy this meal here with you. I just wanted you to know how sorry I was" Bran wise words poured out.

Sansa was rocked by her brother's behavior, his strange words about seeing things frazzled her mind like a puzzle. Once they finished their meals, everyone emptied the hall. Bran was returned to his bedchambers while Sansa wandered around the castle. She found herself wandering into Arya's old bedroom, looking for answers to questions she didn't think she'd ever ask.

"It's good to see you Big Sister" A voice came from the corner of the room.

Sansa turned to see Arya appearing from the darkest corner of the room. They froze just as Sansa and Bran did upon their reunion. Arya embraced the taller girl in the tightest hug she'd ever given. Two Starks in one day, was enough to wipe Brienne from Sansa's mind, at least for the remainder of the night.

"I thought you were dead" Sansa looked at the small girl.

"I've come close to looking him in the face, but not quite yet" Arya grinned at Sansa.

The pair took a good look at each other analyzing all the changes since the last time their eyes met. Sansa brought Arya to see Bran, they talked for hours about everything that happened since their father died. Arya confessed to being behind the murder of Walder Frey but Bran already knew that. He talked about becoming the Three Eyed Raven, what happened to Hodor, and all the people that helped him there and back. They traded both horrific and humorous stories, anything just to regain a sense of familiarity with each other.

"Sansa, why were you cold with Brienne after she tried to kiss you?" Bran spoke changes the energy in the room.

Everyone fell silent. Both Arya and Sansa's eyes grew wide as the words slipped from Brandons mouth. He smirked, still resembling the annoying childish boy she once knew him to be. Arya's mouth gaped with a slight grin as she waited for her sister to speak. Sansa didn't need a mirror to know that the complexion of her face now matched her hair.

"The big blonde woman? Seven hells! What did you do?" Arya hopped up showing she still had some of her inner child inside.

"She loves you," Bran added." And I think you love her too"

"You love her?!" Arya was shocked by the entirety of this conversation. "And to think, people probably thought I was the degenerate of the family"

"Will you shut up?" Bran laughed at his sister. Arya let out a contagious laugh before finally allowing her Sansa her turn to speak.

"It isn't polite to eavesdrop, Bran," Sansa jokingly reminded him. "I-I don't know how I feel towards Brienne. We haven't even known each other for that long"

Brand and Arya fell silent waiting for the sister to say more. Sansa was conflicted by her treatment towards Brienne, she was afraid to admit why she treated Brienne that way. In a way if she admitted she was afraid of their blooming romance, she'd have to accept that it was no longer a figment of her imagination. Although she would love to sit and enjoy the wondrous views of her as she laid under the weirwood tree with her head in Brienne's lap. The real world didn't allow for things like that. Her imagination did. If it remained there, it would be untainted. Tethered to the desires of her lawless mind.

"I'm afraid" Sansa blurted out into the open.

"There will come a time where you won't be. It'll be like opening your eyes for the first time and seeing a doorway. All you have to do is step through it Sansa" Bran placed hid on Sansa's leg, smiling at her.

"Okay what is that even supposed to mean?" Arya chimed in.

Winter was here, the snow was still falling, and the skies were filled with darkness. The only thing providing light in Winterfell was the moon and some torches. Arya and Bran decided that they were going to try to rest. Sansa agreed to get some rest as well, but conflict left her riddled with anxiety. She was worried about how Brienne viewed her now, if she could ever forgive Sansa for relieving her of her protective duty, if she still had a chance at something more with Brienne. She sat all night scribbling unfinished thoughts onto pieces of paper, things she wished she could say to Brienne out loud.

The next day revealed itself with the sun, Sansa finally fell asleep not too long ago. The rest of Winterfell was wide awake, whether they were eating, getting to know one another, or preparing for something the fight with the dead, they were doing something. Arya noticed that Littlefinger was lingering around the Castle so she followed him to see what he was up to. Yesterday Bran informed her that Petyr came into his room to pour out advice before handing him a Valyrian steel dagger. It was the dagger that was used in attempts to kill Bran after he was pushed from the tower. He passed the dagger onto Arya stating that there was nothing he as a cripple could do with it. She followed Littlefinger to his chambers, and waited for him to come back out before going in. She shifted around his room looking for something to expose whatever he was up to.

She found a letter written by Sansa from when they first arrived at Kings Landing years ago. It was a letter pleading for her mother and brother to bend the knee to Joffrey, in exchange for the safe return of their father. Arya was infuriated with the letter, she has always known better than to trust a Lannister. She learned that lesson on her first day at King's Landing. Arya took the paper back to her chambers, hoping it would whisper a devious plan into her ear. She figured out how she would handle Petyr and his tactics, once and for all.

Chapter Text

Brienne rose from her bed this morning still as gloomy as the last several ones. Her encounter with Lady Sansa invaded her mind every time it tried to idle. She'd been wanting to talk to the girl for a while now, but anytime she works up the courage Sansa is being pulled in another direction. Jon was expected to be back with a truce and enough dragon glass for everyone to be effective in the fight against the dead days ago, but no one has heard a word. Not a single raven received by the raven keeper, and it was starting to shake the North. The people were infuriated that their newly appointed King went South without a word, and has yet to return. The people of Winterfell were going hungry and if Sansa didn't do something about it quickly she would lose her army and her people.

So Brienne kept a grave distance between her and the redhead, leaving her distracted of course. Pod expected her at the sparring quarters at sunrise, but the sun had been shining for a while this morning. She arrived with her shoes undone, her sword dragging through the mud, and bags darker than the Red Sea. Pod noticed things were off with his Knight, but he knew she wouldn't wish to talk about such a thing.

"Apologies Podrick. I overslept" Brienne sat on the boxes, bending over to tie her shoes.

"No worries, I've been practicing anyways" He assured her it was no big deal.

Brienne lifted her sword up, preparing to fight with other thoughts in mind. She held dominance over Pod because she was a stronger fighter than him, but this sort of distraction was dangerous. It was making her slow, disrupting her ability to predict moves like a misplaced satellite. She knocked Pod onto his back without breaking a smile, her moves had no emotion at all. Sansa made her way across the stairway, not realizing Pod and Brienne were outside her sparring. She froze making awkward eye contact with the blonde knight and her squire. Luckily, Arya approached Sansa with a much more pressing issue, freeing her of the distraction for a little while longer.

"We need to talk" Arya grabbed Sansa's arm and pulled her back deeper into the stairwell.

Sansa was startled by Arya's aggression as she turned to face her with her eyebrows furrowed. Arya fumbled around in her pockets before pulling out a piece of paper. She handed the piece of paper to her sister and waited for her to read it.

"Arya, where did you get this?" Sansa ripped the piece of paper up.

"You asked Mom and Robb to bend the knee to Cersei and her inbred son. Are you mad?" Arya argued with her sister.

"I- I didn't- They forced me to!" Sansa defended herself.

"Oh I'm sure they forced poor little Sansa into protecting her beloved Jeoffrey" Arya didn't let up.

"I was a child, Arya. I thought it was going to help Father" Sansa began to tear up.

"Yeah and look how well that turned out" Arya got in the last word before storming off.

Sansa was left embarrassed from their very public confrontation. She tried her best to shake off any feeling of responsibility about her fathers death. That sense is what crippled Sansa in the first place, it weakened her against Jeoffrey, who weakened her for Ramsay. All of the terrible nights with those men flooded to the front gates of Sansa's mind. She felt her throat closing up, as the tears streamed down her face. A flash of Ramsay touching her body came first, then her fathers head on a pike, then the news brothers death. So much pain, death, suffrage, it was something that Sansa wasn't quite able to escape.

Ser Davos knocked on Sansa's bedroom chamber. She shot up from her bed and wiped her tears away. As much as she was struggling with all the traumatic things that happened, she knew they were facing current issues in the North, ones that could potentially be fatal. Ser Davos informed her that they didn't have enough food to feed everyone in Winterfell tonight, now she was really stressed.

"Ser Davos, can you send a few of the men from the Night's Watch to Castle Cerywn. Bring back everything Lady Cerwyn says we can take. Send the fastest men and horses we have, it stills needs to be prepped." Sansa commanded him.

"I'll get right to it, My Lady" Ser Davos nodded before exiting her room.

A few of the knights had assembled in the dining hall for lunch. Brienne sat with Eddison, Podrick, and Tormund for lunch. They were trying to get Brienne to drink some Ale but she wasn't going for it. She had never been drunk before, her first sip of ale was not long ago, and she hated the taste.

"So Big Woman, you like big men?" Tormund asked.

Brienne didn't respond to the man, she simply picked up her bowl and bread and moved to another table. Podrick followed after her shortly. They sat together, ate together, but didn't exchange a single word. Pod looked at Brienne with worry in his eyes, and Brienne could sense it.

"What is Pod?" Brienne grew bored of watching Pod stare at her.

"What . . . Nothing" Pod dismissed it.

"You've been staring at me all morning. Your eyes give condolences. What is it?" Brienne slammed her fist on the table.

"You've been sulking over Sansa Stark forever now" Pod blurted out.

The two of them gasped so hard their chairs rocked, almost pushing them over. Brienne was completely unaware of the fact that anyone knew about what was between her and Sansa. She wasn't quite sure of what was going on there herself. While Pod couldn't believe had actually spoken those words into the air, in front of other people. He knew how dangerous it was to talk about something like that, and truthfully he just wanted the two of them to be happy.

"I- I have not" Brienne wasn't good at lying to herself.

"Ever since you interrupted her conversation with Littlefinger, the two of you have barely spoken a word to each other" Pod spoke letting her know he knew everything.

"There's nothing I can do, Pod. She- she doesn't want me. She released me of my Oath" Brienne whispered clearly hurting.

"You know she can't do that. The only person that could be released from your oath is gone. What happened up there anyway?" Pod asked.

"She questioned me about the tent. I-I tried to kiss her. But then the battle started, and I acted as if it never happened. God I'm such a fool" Brienne's head hung low.

"What'd you do that for?" Pod raised his hands.

"Because Pod. Have you ever heard anything good come from those in secret degenerative relationships with the same sex? The last relationship the public knew of saw to their own demise" Brienne took another bite of her bread.

"That's different Brienne. The North is independent now. Loyal to the Stark. To Sansa"Prod tried to reason with his comrade.

"If only Sansa were in charge of the North" Brienne responded bitterly.

Arya entered the dining hall, specifically looking for Brienne. She walked over to the table with her Needle on her hip. She stopped at the head of the table watching the two finish their lunch.

"You killed the Hound" Arya was in awe of Brienne.

"I did." Brienne nodded.

"I'd like to spar with you. You're clearly the best fighter there is. Let's spar. Are you done eating, I'd like to spar now." Arya rambled out of excitement.

Arya had always taken an interest to swordplay, and watching Brienne fight the Hound in person was a gift richer than gold. Arya regrets not leaving Brienne after the Hound was defeated, but back then she didn't know who to rust. Now, she knows the answer to that question is no one. Brienne accepted Arya's request and took them out into the sparring grounds. Arya was a lot quicker than Brienne expected her to be, she tagged Brienne twist before finally behind knocked back onto her ass. Arya kicked herself up off the ground, pointing her needle forward. At this point the entirety of Winterfell were watching the two go at it. Excellent swordplay, swift dodges, quick movements, a dance performed by two women at that. Arya danced her way around sword fighting while Brienne bulldozed hers. Being a tall strong woman made it difficult for her to be graceful during fighting. They spared until the sun started to set. Ser Davos and the men of the Night's Watch returned back to Winterfell with a wagon full of supplies. Just as their horses galloped back home, the bell rang. Not the battle bell, but the counsel bell. Everyone was meant to enter the Counsel chambers, while the leaders of Winterfell discussed whatever the meeting was called for. It was done in front of most of the town so the people would have a say.

Brienne and Pod found their places in the front row of the room, waiting for the Stark family to take their seats. Bran's wooden wheelchair creaked as he was wheeled to his place at the table by Tormund. Tormund made sure to stare deeply into Brienne's uncomfortable blue eyes before finding his seat. Arya sat two seats down with her feet resting on the table and her hands behind her head. Lastly, Lady Sansa appeared in an all black dress and cloak. Brienne couldn't help but gush over Sansa bundled up in a fancy lady dress with direwolf fur wrapped around her shoulders. She wasn't just beautiful to Brienne, she was resilient and that was Brienne's favorite thing about her. Sansa stood in front of her seat, sliding it forward before sitting down.

"We'd like to call Petyr Baelish to the front." Sansa's spine stood straight up, assuring herself she was doing what needed to be done.

The town of Winterfell turned their heads to look at Petyr, his arms dropped to his side and he pushed himself off the wall before speaking.

"What's this about?" Petyr seemed to be getting nervous.

"You are being charged with murder and treason" Sansa responded to his statement.

Petyr was too baffled to respond, he scoffed as if he was above such a thing. He moved to the center of the room, where everyone could see the man responsible for everything that has happened to them over the past six years.

"We can start with the murder of our Aunt Lysa. You pushed her out the moondoor, where she fell to her death. Do you deny these claims?" Sansa stared at him closely.

"My lady, I did it to protect you" Petyr defended his actions.

"After you gave me to the Boltons, knowing that he planned to do vile things to me in exchange for control over the Vale. A deal you made with Cersei Lannister. Do you deny these claims?" Sansa was getting angry.

Brienne watched the entire thing happen with her fist balled up so tight it was turning whiter than she already was. She knew of some of the mainpulative things Littlefinger has done to end up where he is today, but not to this extent. What really infuriated Brienne was that she was not surprised, every encounter she had with Littlefinger left her feeling uneasy, ready to sleep with an eye open.

"Sansa . . . please" Petyr approached Sansa at the table.

"You set our father, Ned Stark, up to be executed by false treasonous claims. You encouraged him to discover the truth about the Baratheon children, and even worse you convinced him to confront that evil witch. And when my father tried to honor his best friend by revealing the truthful heir to the throne you sat there and watched as he was executed. Do you deny these claims?" Sansa was moved to her feet with outrage.

"Yes, I deny all of these claims. None of you were there, no one knows what really happened." Petyr became defensive with the crowd.

"I saw it. You held a knife to his throat after the Golden Army turned on him. I believe your exact words were 'I told you not to trust me.'" Bran looked at Littlefinger with hurt.

That was all the people of the court needed to hear, Petyr Baelish was being charged with more than one count of murder and treason. The man fell to his knees, searching the room for a gentle soul to defend him. But every gentle soul in the room had been burned and scarred by Petyr and all the indirect damage he caused. Arya's chair made a scraping noise that echoed through the room. The heels of her shoes clicked against the floor as she walked over to Petyr Baelish.

"I'll admit I was a slow learner. But I do learn" Sansa stated.

Arya swiftly removed her knife from its holder and put a six inch slit across Petyr's throat. Blood poured out of his wound like a fountain, gushing. She wiped the dagger on her pant leg, slipped in back into the holder, and returned to her seat at the Stark counsel table. The Starks were on the rise, plotting their revenge on everyone who had crossed them.

Chapter Text

The battle against the dead crept upon the North like a stealthy alley cat. Jon returned from his trip to Dragonstone with more than just dragon glass. They wound up passing Winterfell on their journey to beyond the wall in attempts to get Cersei to declare a truce on the war of the throne. The dead flooded their area, surrounding them for hours. The only thing that kept them alive was a strip of water that turned back to ice when the sun fell. The dead closed in on the men, they even lost one of the Brotherhood men, then Daenerys flew in with her dragons, buying them another day to live. One of the dragons was slain by the dead, that's what really shook the people of Winterfell. Cersei refused to agree to the truce, which also meant she wouldn't send any of her men to help fight the battle. The people in the North started to become fearful of their unpromised future. But Jon and others tried their best to reassure them that they would do all they could to prepare for the long night. One would think this twas the most pressing matter in Winterfell, but the people were outraged by another.

When Jon returned he announced that he was resigning as King of the North, and that he bent the knee to Daenerys. He gave up his loyal rights to the North, and reunited Winterfell with the rest of the other kingdoms ruled by the Iron Throne. Not only were the people outraged, but the Stark sisters were furious. They thought Jon was foolish to put his faith in a woman he barely knew, to betray his people and force them to submit to yet another foreigner. Sansa and Jon bickered for the rest of the night, everyone in the castle could hear them, no matter how hard they tried to whisper. Daenerys did not care for Sansa's resistance to her ruling but Jon talked her out of acting on anything just yet. She decided to set up a meeting with Sansa instead, in hopes to squash the hostility now.

"I never imagined Jon's sister being a redhead, are they common in Westeros?" Daenerys asked as she entered the room.

"No, not really," Sansa replied shortly.

"Is there something I've done to upset you?" Daenerys asked genuinely.

"No. My apologies. I should have thanked you from the moment I saw you. You saved Jon, and you've agreed to help us fight the dead, with your dragons." Sansa tried to be polite.

"I didn't believe Jon at first. Until I saw them." Daenerys looked worried for a second. "I'll need people to be alive if I wish to take back the Iron Throne."

"And we would love to support your claim . . . as an independant." Sansa refused to back down.

"Your brother already bent the knee." Daenerys replied feeling like she defeated Sansa.

"I don't care what Jon did. The North was independent for years before, we fought hard to take it back. We do not wish to be ruled by the Iron Throne any longer. And if you want our men on your side when you claim the throne, you must agree to this'' Sansa was honest about how her and her people felt.

Daenerys did not care for Sansa's stubbornness over who should rule the North. They decided to table their conversation for later, but Daenerys knows that Sansa Stark doesn't seem like a girl you can push over, not anymore at least. The Foreign Queen exited the private chambers, leaving Sansa alone with her thoughts.

Something about sitting idle made Sansa feel uneasy. As a woman inexperienced when it came to war, preparing for a war could be so boring. So, she decided to head downstairs to see what everyone else was doing. The redhead found herself standing in the middle of merchants quarry. In a more regular time of the year, this area would be filled with many people selling their crafted work and freshly grown produce. But now that winter was here, and the battle against the dead was approaching. All that was there was produce, armor, and Gendry's blacksmith stand.

Gendry arrived here not too long ago, and he is a damn fine blacksmith for someone who barely made it past their apprenticeship. And where there were weapons, there was also Brienne and Arya. The two had been spending a lot of time together, being that Sansa pushed the taller one out, and the two really like sword fighting. Of course, Sansa was feeling spontaneous and courageous today, so she approached them.

"Hello Gendry, Arya, Brienne" Sansa interrupted their conversation.

"My Lady" Gendry and Brienne quickly bowed their heads.

"How is everything? The weapon making . . . process . . . thing. Is it going okay?" Sansa couldn't feel more embarrassed with her line of questioning.

"Oh yeah, it's going great Lady Sansa. The dragon glass is actually pretty easy to melt and remold. Although I am having an issue making Tormund's weapon, it's practically a gigantic mallet" Gendry rambled on a little too long. "Oh sorry m'lady , I didn't mean to take up too much of your time"

"No worries Gendry. I'm really glad you're here" Sansa smiled at the black haired boy.

"What are you even doing down here?" Arya interrupted a pleasant conversation with her snarky comment.

"I-I just wanted to see how everything was going. Is that a crime" Sansa tried to laugh off her sister's badgering.

"Yeah, okay. Look, I expect my weapon to be done tomorrow Gendry." Arya turned to talk to her friend.

"Brienne, dear sister"

Arya bowed with exaggeration in attempts to make fun of how ladylike her older sister was. Gendry excused himself before heading to the back to check on melted dragon glass. That left Brienne the Great and Lady Sansa standing all alone in the middle of the quarry. The two had not been alone like this for a minute now. They sat in silence for a while, the awkward tension growing tremendously.

"So uh, how's training with Podrick?" Sansa questioned.

"Podrick could be a great fighter if he had a bit more discipline, My Lady" Brienne answered the question so seriously.

"You're always so serious" Sansa laughed at how strict Brienne was.

"Am not" Brienne looked offended.

"You are too. When we first arrived at the Wall, you barely did anything but sleep, eat, and protect me" Sansa didn't seem to catch on to her agitation.

"Sorry for caring about you. If you'll excuse me my lady" Brienne scoffed, attempting to storm off.

Sansa grabbed the knight's arm, pulling her back with so much force that Brienne had to face her. Brienne's expression was complicated to read, in a way she looked angry, blood boiling, and fumes coming out her ears. But in another she looked disappointed , disappointed with her relationship with Sansa, and disappointed with herself for brushing off her Lady. Sansa escorted the blonde west of the castle to talk more in private. The abandoned Crofters Village was scorched black, still somewhat standing on the soil of the First Men. No one would find them over here, except maybe Bran and his creepy three eyed raven.

"What was that?" Sansa seemed to be getting just as angry as Brienne.

"What- My Lady, I'd really like to be excused. I'm afraid that if I stay in this conversation any longer, I'll say something that displeases you" Brienne couldn't even look at Sansa.

"Speak freely then" Sansa commanded.

"You released me from my oath. Our conversation on the balcony has been looping in my head like some diseased horse. You punished me, you- you pushed me out. All because I was afraid to speak of something we both know is forbidden" Brienne couldn't believe she just said this outloud.

Brienne took an interest in the girl the first time she met her. Littlefinger and Sansa sat in the booth of some tavern chatting about the past when Brienne approached. It was difficult to not let her raw attraction to the girl get in the way of delivering her lines. This was the first time Brienne offered her services, she vowed to shield her back, and to give her life for hers if need be. Sansa denied the offer, as a result of being lied to and manipulated by anyone who wanted something in return for years. Sansa's rejection felt like a dagger in the chest to Brienne, and not just because she wouldn't be able to carry out her oath, but because she would miss out on the opportunity to get to know a beautiful girl.

"I-I don't know what to say" Sansa stammered.

"Me neither" Brienne sounded defeated.

"I think about you all the time. When I wake, I wonder what you're doing. When I eat, I wonder if you have too. When I bathe, I wonder what you look like underneath your clothes and armor. I think about you all the time Brienne." Sansa confessed putting her hand on the shoulder of Brienne's freezing cold armor.

Brienne couldn't believe the words Lady Sansa was speaking. She dreamed of Sansa speaking these words to her, only the dreams didn't sound half as good as the real thing. Brienne thought about Sansa during all of those moments too, and then some. Brienne inches closer to the redheaded woman, praying she would be able to finish what she started in the tent.

"Are you sure about this, my lady?" Brienne questioned.

"I've never been more sure of anything else" Sansa spoke dreamingly.

The pair was closer than ever, Sansa held onto the iron armor pulling Brienne in close. Brienne placed her uncovered hand on the left side of Sansa's cheek. Just as the two were about to kiss, they heard Arya calling out Sansa's name. Brienne moved back in fear of someone seeing them, but Sansa stayed right in the moment. Arya appeared from around the corner, smirking over the fact that she was certain she had just interrupted something intimate.

"Sorry to interrupt. Everyone's having a big feast, some are calling it the final feast but, I'll be eating plenty after we fuck up some dead people" Arya looked almost excited for this possible world threatening battle.

"We should go" Brienne rushed off after Arya.

Sansa followed behind the tall Blonde woman disappointed in their lack of contact, but still she smiled at the thought of it happening. As they walked back to the Castle's dining hall, Sansa thought of a million different ways they could sneak off with each other after the feast. They would kiss, and walk through the Castle cautiously, hand in hand. Cozy up by a fire outside while they watch the snowflakes fall. for what seemed to be a whole series of moons. Sansa's mind couldn't handle all of her excitement, it sent her skipping forward right into Brienne's right shoulder.

"Sorry" Sansa laughed, smiling at the taller woman.

A big blushing smile grew on Brienne's face. She knew that a woman of her complexion had to be careful with being swooned. It was written all over her face. But it was dark, and she was in the company of a girl she adored and her younger sister. No one would see them.

It didn't take long for them to arrive at the feast. All of the men talked and laughed as they ate their soup and inhaled their ale. Sansa joined her family at the head of the table while Brienne found her seat next to Pod. When Brienne got a better look at who she was sitting with, she realized her old friend Jamie Lannister was sitting across from Pod. And even more to her surprise, Sendor Clegane. Brienne looked at the man with wide eyes. The last time they saw each other Brienne put a knife in his side, then he fell off a small clip and split his leg bone in half.

"Wha- How are you here?" Brienne looked as if she saw a ghost.

"You nearly killed me you bitch" Clegane spoke angrily, taking a bite of the meat they were served for dinner.

"It really wasn't anything personal. I was sworn to protect the Stark girls. I'd give my life for theirs" Brienne responded proudly.

"Cocky, bitch" Clegane picked his tray up, moving to another side of the hall.

Everyone at the table sat in silence for a minute, before laughing at Clegane being beaten. The Hound was a tough man to battle, and Brienne practically ended his life on that field. She was moving away from the "Big Woman" and more towards the "Best Swordsman".

"Jamie, what are you doing here?" The excitement in Brienne's voice slipped.

"What's everyone else here for?. Did you really think I'd miss this?" Jamie smirked.

Brienne smiled and nodded her head proudly at Jamie who did the same. Pod, Jamie, Tyrion, Ed, Samwell, Tormund and a few others all sat at the same table with Brienne. They laughed for what felt like hours, sharing war stories, and greatest accomplishments. Anything to get their minds off the terrifying battle that lies ahead. Brienne was enjoying herself so much that she forgot about what had just happened between her and Sansa. But when she looked up, she immediately caught Sansa's eyes. The redhead girl blushed looking down at her plate, Brienne cracked a smile at the girl before returning to her conversation.

Chapter Text

The people of Castle Winterfell were as quiet as a kitchen mice. Nothing to see but a few spaces glowing from the lit torches, and pure white snow blending in the shadow of darkness for miles.. Nothing to hear but the crackle coming from those flames, and the daunting wind rustling the leaves of the trees. Inside the Castle was a different story. Tormund and two men from the brotherhood returned back from Eastwatch declaring that the dead had already gotten past the wall. The news sent a chill down everyone who was going to be on the battlefield tonight's spine. A meeting was just held in the library of the Castle, they decided to go over the plan to defeat the dead one last time. After the meeting concluded everyone decided they were going to spend their last few hours enjoying themselves.

Jon Stark stood at the upper bridge of the castle with his good friends Samwell and Ed. Arya perused a promiscuous night with her old bastard friend Gendry. Bran sat underneath the only Weirwood tree in the castle's quarters, preparing himself for the battle. Sansa roamed the castle, gathering elderly and children just in case the dead passed their first line of defense. While Brienne prepared herself to get some rest before the long night.

Pod and Brienne entered the chambers they had been sleeping in since they arrived at Winterfell to find a group of men sitting in a circle around the fireplace. A smile grew on Pod's face when he realized he would finally have a moment to catch up with his old companion Tyrion. They haven't seen each other since Tyrion shipped him off with Brienne in King's Landing. Who knows if the Lannisters would have executed everyone Tyrion was associated with while he was on trial for the murder of King Joeoffrey. But they didn't want to find out.

"What are you all doing here?" Brienne was annoyed with the men.

"Relax, My Lady. We are just having a drink before the long night begins" Tyrion said pouring Pod and Brienne their own cups of ale.

"I don't drink" Brienne put her hand up pushing away the cup.

Tyrion shrugged, pouring Brienne's small cup into his own cup, which was significantly bigger. Pod went to grab a swig from his own cup when Brienne slapped his hand softly.

"I don't think that would be wise" Brienne didn't approve.

The rest of the men watched as the two had their encounter. Brienne looked at Podricks pouting expression, after all she never really did drink much with other men. It was something that all men took pleasure in. Brienne allowed Pod to drink but only that one cup and nothing more.

"I came in here to get some rest," Brienne huffed.

"Sit down. No one is sleeping tonight" Jamie insisted, pulling up a chair.

Brienne sat down in the chair Jamie moved for her, which conveniently was placed next to the big ginger wildling fellow that goes by the name of Tormund. He took enormous gulps from his mammoth tusk, which he obviously gloated about killing himself. The ale spilled all over his coat, and he did not look down once.

"So. I'm thinking tonight. You, Me, we make giant babies, no?" Tormund practically burped in her face.

Brienne didn't care to respond to the man's barbaric statement, this may be her last night alive. Ser Davos and Gilly entered the room as well, getting close to the fire pit to grab some warmth. He stated that he wasn't going to stay too long, but where else would he be?

"Ser Brienne of Tarth . . . My apologies, Lady Brienne. I hear you defeated the Hound" Tyrion tipped his chalice towards Brienne as a sign of gratitude.

"She's not a Ser? You're not a knight?" Tormund questioned with a shocked expression

"Women can't be knights," Brienne responded quickly, trying to end the discussion.

"Why not?" Tormund asked innocently.

"Tradition" Brienne hoped this would end the painful conversation.

"Fuck Tradition" Tormund disputed.

"I never wanted to be a knight," Brienne spoke bitterly.

Her eyes immediately shifted to Pod, the only man in the room who knew the truth behind that statement. Pod gave her a sorry expression, knowing that being a knight was all Brienne had ever wanted. Brienne had to look away or she was going to end up sobbing over something she had no control over.

"I know I'm no king, but if I were. I'd knight you, many times." Tormund wiggled his eyebrows.

"Technically, you don't need to be a king to knight someone." Jamie proposed. "You only need another knight."

Jamie placed his chalice on the table before grabbing his sword.

"I'll prove it. Kneel, Brienne of Tarth" Jamie pointed his sword in front of him.

Brienne scoffed not believing Jamie was actually being serious. But then she looked around the room, no one said a word but you saw the encouragement twinkling in their eyes. Brienne tried to refuse but Jamie asked her a question she had always wanted to hear.

"Do you want to be a knight or not?" Jamie pushed her.

Brienne stood up nervously, unsure if this was actually happening. A glimpse of her childhood fogged the front of her mind. She was just a little girl, playing with one of her cousins while they practiced knighting each other. Brienne never imagined that in a matter of years, this would become a reality. She gripped her sword nervously before kneeling in front of Jamie. The rest of the men and Gilly stood up in a line, to officially watch Brienne make Westeros history. He placed his sword on her left shoulder first before speaking.

"In the name of the warrior, I charge you to be brave." He spoke before moving his sword to her right shoulder.

"In the name of the father, I charge you to be just." He then moved the sword back to her other shoulder.

"In the name of the mother, I charge you to defend the innocent." He finished before moving his sword back to his sword.

Brienne didn't want to cry, not in front of all of the men, not while she was being knighted. But this was a dream come true for the woman. A tear fell from her eye, and Jamie saw it making him tear slightly as well

"Arise, Brienne of Tarth. A knight of the Seven Kingdoms" Jamie smiled at his dear friend.

Brienne rose to her feet, towering over the tall blonde. She was filled with great honor and pride. If she were to die here tonight on the battlefield, she would die happily knowing her final actions were defending the human race as a knight of the Seven Kingdoms. Everyone in the room gave her an overwhelming round of applause. And for many it was the first time seeing Brienne with a genuine smile on her face.

The atmosphere shifted completely when the alarm bells went off. The room rose to their feet, looking at each other as if it would be the last thing they saw. Everyone but Gilly and Tyrion rushed out of the room. They grabbed their swords, properly equipped their armor and rushed down their stairs. Brienne imagined she would feel more nervous when this night came, but tonight is the night she became a knight. Her blood was pumping through her veins, ready to take a swing at anything that approached them.

Sansa was still gathering the elderly and children when the alarms sounded. She knew she had to pick up her pace if they were going to survive the night. Tyrion joined Sansa in her task of collecting the defenseless, although he had survived two battles before, Daenerys forbade him from entering the battle she wanted him alive after the fight. While Sansa was collecting the last of the people, her tall blonde companion caught her eye. She requested that Tyrion take them to the crypt, and she would join them in a few. Being that the crypts were the only thing Castle Winterfell had built underground, that's where they decided it would be safest to hide

"Brienne!" Sansa called out to the woman.

Brienne's eyes wandered around the Castle in panic after hearing Sansa's voice call out to her. She found the girl outside of the many rooms in this castle. Brienne rushed over to Sansa, she was going to make sure the girl got where she needed to be safely.

"My lady, you have to get underground now!" Brienne sounded worried.

"I'm so glad I ran into you like this Brienne. You have to promise me you'll come back. I want to be yours, and I don't care if people talk. You have to come back" Sansa began to pour her heart out to the taller woman.

"I promise I'll come back for you Sansa." Brienne took Sansa's cheek into her hand.

Sansa extended herself upwards to meet Brienne halfway into the kiss. The exterior aromatherapy wasn't exactly how they imagined their first kiss to be, but all of that didn't matter. Brienne placed her left hand in the small of Sansa's back gently pulling her deeper into the kiss. When the two pulled up apart they knew they didn't have time to exchange words, and words couldn't compare to their first kiss. Brienne took Sansa by the hand and rushed her down to the crypts, they exchanged a longing look before Brienne made her way to the battlefield.

Outside there was no more wind, no more light, just the hundreds of thousands of black figures known as the dead army standing opposite of our defense. The Dothraki men that accompanied the soon to be foreign Queen were the first in line. The Red Woman used her blood magic to light their weapons and they rode off into battle. Several chilling minutes passed as the second line of defense watched each shred of light go out a few at a time. The second line of defense stood up straight, shaken to their core by how fast all those men were taken out. The dead army advanced on the castle, while the second line geared up to attack.

They swung their swords, shot their arrows, threw their spears and still one by one they were being wiped out by the dead. Daenerys and Jon finally took off on her two dragons, but the cloud that formed from the presence of the Night King made it hard for them to see. The army of the dead was winning, and almost outside the walls of the castle. After half of the second line was killed, they began to retreat behind the wall. Fiery arrows flew across the battlefield, some landed on the dead, some were extinguished by the snow. Once the men got behind the walls, more of them began to shoot the fiery arrows which seemed to be working for a while, until they saw the Giant. The Giant rushed towards the gate of Winterfell causing it to come down in seconds.

Daenerys and Jon finally were able to get the dragon's back over the battlefield. They flew in a line engulfing thousands of the dead in flames within seconds. The dragons were giving them a real shot at surviving the night. Daenerys spotted the Night King and immediately directed her dragon in his direction. He released his flames and the whole area went up in flames. But when the smoke settled the Night King and his fellow companions were still alive. They could only be killed with Dragon glass, or Valiryian steel. The Night King turned quickly to grab a massive arrow and launched it at one of the dragons. Luckily for the North, he missed. The Dragons continued to wreak as much havoc as they could on the regular dead men, without getting shot down.

Brienne was a part of the third line within the wall, so were most of her other companions she grew to love over the past few years A sea of sword wielding skeletons flooded the inner walls of Castle Winterfell. Brienne lifted up her sword, swinging it as quickly she could. There were so many of them, she could barely keep her focus on one enemy at a time. Ludwig Mormont, the second to last Mormont, insisted on joining the battlefield too. One of the dead Giant's hit him so hard he went flying into the wall. It didn't just stop there either, the thing lifted him up into the air, crushing almost every body in his body. Lord Mormont groaned in pain just before he felt his sword and stuck it in the eye of the giant. The giant collapsed sending a wave of dust in the air.

Brienne and Jaime were pushed into a corner against the dead. They had taken a toll on the two blondes, leaving bruises and cuts all over their faces. The dead continued to flood pushing them further into the corner. Brienne lost her balance over a bale of hay, and the dead pounced on her. Just as one was about to stick her with its sword Jaime cut it down in half. He extended his hand to which Brienne took quickly, and regained control over the situation. The two swung their swords the best they had ever in their lives.

Arya somehow managed to get pushed into the library when the dead flooded the Castle. She was outnumbered by at least twelve. She held her weapon closely to her body as she hid by the ends of the bookshelf. She ducked and dodged the dead trying to find a way out of the room, and just as she did when she turned her head one of them was standing right in front of her. She stabbed the wight with the spear end of her weapon and rushed out of the library. Arya ran the only route she knew would lead her back outside of the castle. The dead followed her, foolishly falling for her plan. By the time Arya arrived outside, Jon and his dragon roasted the dead as the hallway poured off the hallway. She smiled up at her brother before rushing off to another area where the dead were infesting the North.

The dead slaughtered half of the North. Everyone thought they were going to die. Most of them continued to do what they could, but a lot of men disappeared into the castle, pleading to be let back inside the chambers. Sansa cowered when then men banged on the crypt door, she felt terrible not being able to let them in, but if they came in, so would the dead. Anyone who was left inside the walls was either dead, knocked out cold, or cowering as the Night King made his way inside. Him and his army marched past the Castle towards the Weirwood tree where Bran rested. Bran mentioned when he first arrived back at Winterfell that the Night King had left a mark on him, and that meant he was coming for Bran. If the three eyed raven died before he was able to pass on his power, that would be the end of life as they knew it.

The Night King stood in front of the men protecting Bran, waiting for them to make the first move. Bran asked the men to just step aside, so that when they killed him everyone would die peacefully. Of course they refused, the three Wildings charged at the Night King and were immediately slaughtered. He approached Bran slowly, lifting his spear up into the air, waiting to launch it into the crippled Stark boy. Just as he cocked his arm back to throw the spear, his body jolted to turn and watch whoever just launched themselves at him. Arya's neck was in the grasp of the Night King, he squeezed almost choking the girl out. Arya dropped her dagger out of her life hand, catching it swiftly with the other before piercing the Night King with the dagger. The Night King and everyone else disappeared into ice shards and flew off with the wind.

Brienne was surprised when all the dead dropped right in front of her. Her heart was beating so loud it sounded like a stampede. Sweat dripped from her short blonde hair, and her chest plate rose and fell with every deep breath she took. Brienne was exhausted, but thankful that she survived this horrid night. She looked to her left and saw Jamie, Pod, Gendry, Tormund, Ed, and Samwell all alive and well. They met in the middle of the castle's courtyard embracing each in one big hug. A few of them even began to cry, some were tears of joy, some of sorrow. They looked around them, taking in just how many of their army was gone. The crushed bloody corpse resembling the little Lord Mormont became too overwhelming to look at. Silently and full of sorrow, they began to limp from the field and pour inside the halls of the castle.Victory was theirs, and after they mourned the loss of all their comrades, they damn sure were going to celebrate this victory.

Chapter Text

Collecting the limp cold bodies of thousands of beloved Northerns was simply too hard of a task. Many wept against their lifeless corpses for what seemed like forever before mustering up the courage to lift them. They were strategically placed in groups of eight on hand-built wooden pyramids. There were too many pyramids for the plain eye to see. The further out you looked, the more they blurred behind the dewey morning air. A lot of them were Dothraki and Unsullied men, but that was because they were the majority of the North's army. The foreign queen wasn't pleased to lose so many of her men, but if everyone were slaughtered by the wights she would have no one to rule over.

All of the remaining soldiers stood in lines facing the pyramids of noble men and women. Jon gave a speech inspiring all of the remaining men to feel proud about their victory, and to live each day proud of the men and women who died for them to continue to live. The Red Woman used her magic to light all of the fires at once. Everyone stood in silence as they watched their comrades turn to ashes.

A few hours after they honored their dead, they all gathered in the great hall to celebrate. There was enough food to feed the entirety of Westeros. Enough all to overflow a sea. The soldiers reminisced their top moments slaughtering the wights. Jon, Daenerys, Bran and Arya sat at the head table enjoying their people basking in the glory of saving humanity. They were all too happy about their survival to notice that the oldest Stark girl was missing.

Sansa knocked on the door before entering Brienne and Podricks sleeping chamber. She found herself inside their room for the third time today. Of course, she felt the need to check on Brienne. The blonde sustained pretty serious injuries during the battle. Sansa winced everytime she looked at the blackish blue marks forming in between the cuts on her face. When the sea of dead pushed through the walls Brienne lost her balance and was trampled by the wights and her fellow comrades, causing her armor to cave in slightly. Her ribs felt as if she'd been struck with a metal pipe in the area repeatedly.. Although Brienne had taken a rough beating, the Maester relieved both of their concerns when he stated she would make a full recovery in due time. Brienne laid flat on her back with her eyes closed, this was the only way she could sleep comfortably. Sansa approached the woman quietly in attempts to not start startle her. She placed her hand on her cheek gently, rubbing her thumb over a cut that started on her upper cheek and ended past her lip. She had another cut through her eyebrow, and another just under the bruise that surfaced around her eye. They were hard to look at, but Sansa knew they would fade into nothing. Brienne's eyes fluttered open at the feeling of a hand on her face. She looked up at the redhead, giving her a weak smile.

"Evening, My Lady" Brienne was still formal, even wounded on her back.

"Good evening, Ser Brienne," Sansa smiled, feeling proud of the woman.

*Immediately After The Battle*

Sansa rushed through the Castle, looking for Brienne. There were at least six people packed into every room available in the castle, either being treated or awaiting it. Bran and Arya were the first two people she saw when she came out from the crypts. Arya informed Sansa that Jon was safe and that she was the one who slayed the Night King. Sansa's eyes lit up when she heard the news. Then the thought of her beloved Brienne popped into her mind and her feet were moving faster than her brain. She watched as people were being brought into private rooms of the Castle, but she couldn't find Brienne. Sansa moved her search downstairs starting with the first room past the library. First her eyes settled on The Hound who clearly passed out from the heavy bleeding coming from his leg. Then they shifted on Brienne who laid on the other cot groaning as she grabbed her side.

"Brienne!" Sansa rushed to her side.

"My Lady" Brienne groaned, still trying to be respectable.

Sansa cupped her face harshly. forgetting about Brienne's injuries. She pressed her lip up against Brienne's, ignoring the strange taste of blood that was coming from her cut.

"Ow" Brienne ached.

"I'm sorry! I was looking all over the castle for you, I thought maybe you didn't make it." Sansa still sounded scared about everything that had just happened.

"We did it," Brienne smiled through the pain. "We killed the army of the dead. And now I get to live out the rest of my life, as your knight"

Sansa was shocked by the news Brienne had just given her. She wondered when they found the time to do it .But that didn't matter, she was happy that Brienne was getting something she so desperately deserved.

"I couldn't be happier for you" Sansa smiled brushing her hair back.

**

"Are you feeling up to a celebration tonight?" Sansa asked her lover.

"I should at least make an appearance?" Brienne sat up wincing in pain.

"You should do whatever the Maester said you need to in order to heal, my love" Sansa was serious about Brienne getting better.

"Can that involve kissing you?" Brienne stood up.

The woman was resting in a loosely filled blue shirt with brown woolen pants that kept her long beefy legs warm in the harsh cold winter.. She moved across the room over to Sansa before placing her hands on the sides of her waist. Brienne kissed Sansa for the eighth time today, all of them taking place right here in this room.

"If you can kiss, you can celebrate. Now get dressed" Sansa whispered in her lover's ear.

She sat down in the sleeping chamber, taking in the feeling of relief. She lit a candle to keep track of how long they had been in the room together just so no one would grow suspicious. They hadn't had much of a chance to talk about the secrecy of their relationship and how they planned to maintain it, or not. Regardless, the topic was definitely high on their agenda. Brienne quickly changed into something more proper than bed wear. Just as she was about to slip back into her damaged armor, Sansa stopped her.

"Brienne, you don't need to wear your armor all the time, isn't it heavy" Sansa spoke to Brienne.

"Well, I don't have much else to wear My Lady." Brienne put her armor back down.

"Firstly, there's no need to call me that in a private setting, it feels strange. And second, I can sew you something , I'll take your measurements in the morning" Sansa responded.

"Okay my love. I shall put on something else" Brienne smiled at how controlling Sansa could be.

She didn't mind it though, it felt nice to have someone care about simple things in her life. Brienne put on a tan long sleeve shirt made of thick cotton and wool. She slipped into a pair of pants with padded material sewed onto the front half. Her brown worn out boots would have to suffice for now. She slid them over her pant legs before exiting the room with Lady Sansa.

They made their way into the dining hall where everyone was celebrating loudly. Sansa joined her family at the table, sneaking a small kiss on Brienne's cheek before skipping off. Brienne smiled shyly as she sat down at the table with her comrades. They were playing a drinking game, and Brienne was up next. She decided that if she was ever going to drink tonight would be the night.

"Okay, so how does this game work?" Brienne questioned.

"It's simple, I make a statement. You drink it, it's true, and I ask another question. If it's false I drink, and you get to ask the question" Tyrion explained.

"Okay, you first" Brienne smiled, already feeling the ale getting to her.

"Okay, you hate wearing skirts" Tyrion squinted looking at her.

Brienne took a big chug from her chalice, waiting for the next question.

"You used to dress as a knight as a child." Tyrion made another guess.

"No fair, you've gotta guess bolder statements. These are obvious" Brienne took a chug of her beer.

"Alright, alright. You've never kissed anyone before" Tyrion guessed.

Brienne titled her cup towards Tyrion, signaling that it was his turn to drink. The rest of the table's eyes went wide at the thought of Brienne kissing another man. But she hadn't been kissing whoever they probably thought it was. It was Brienne's turn to give a statement, she chose to direct hers towards Jamie.

"You actually like being referred to as the Kingslayer," Brienne said confidently.

Jamie took a swing from his cup. They sat and played this game for at least an hour, everyone was drunker than Tyrion on his death sentence. Just as everyone was getting ready to leave the dining hall, Tormund wanted to ask one more question.

"You like kissing the Stark girl." Tormund laughed.

Everyone left in the dining hall fell silent. See Davos, and The Hound seemed completely oblivious to the statement Tormund made. But Jamie, Tyrion, and Podrick, knew exactly what that meant.

"Come on, what's her face? Santa? No. Sansa. Hair kissed by fire. I see the way you look at her, like you want to make babies" Tormund continued.

They all turned to Brienne to see if she would drink from her cup or not. She placed the chalice on the table without taking a single sip. Brienne had to be the drunkest person at the feast but she couldn't show it, especially now that people already have started to ask questions. Brienne stumbled through the halls, and into her sleeping chambers. Her hands, legs, the floor, everything was rocking back and forth as if she was at sea. Brienne fumbled around trying to unbutton her shirt before someone walked into the room.

"Brienne" Sansa called out.

"Over here, my lo- Lady" She corrected herself just in case Sansa wasn't alone.

Sansa moved towards Brienne hoping to get a kiss before she realized something was off with the giant. Although they were standing still, Brienne was slightly rocking back and forth, blinking excessively in attempts to get a clear still image of the girl. Sansa placed her hand on Brienne's cheek, brushing her thumb over the scar on her lip.

"You're drunk" She smiled. "Do you need help with your shirt?"

"Yes, thank you My Lady" Brienne grinned widely.

"I told you about that" Sansa rolled her eyes while unbuttoning the girls shirt.

Sansa hadn't really seen Brienne's body like this before. She's caught glimpses of her lower abdomen when she would pull her chest plates off. This view was better than the glimpses, she could see all of Brienne's upper body. Her shoulders were wide, her arms long and toned, a faint six pack plastered on her stomach. Her breasts were small, they sat perfectly on her chest, her pink nipples hard from the cold of the North.

Sansa couldn't help but want to touch her giant lover, she found her to be so illuminating. Sansa cupped Brienne's face, bring her down to her level so they could enjoy this intimate kiss. Brienne's hands held Sansa by the waist, she hoisted the girl up onto the bed. Brienne was drunk, therefore she was missing a lot of her shame. Her hands roamed chaotically all over Sansa's body, letting the redhead know she was extremely wanted. But Sansa has a difficult past when it comes to any sort of intimacy beyond kissing. Brienne's hands were giving her flashbacks of Ramsay's and knew she felt gross.

"Brienne, I don't wanna do this" Sansa began to freak out.

Brienne immediately pulled back, respecting the girl's wishes. She knew what the redhead had been through, and even while intoxicated she could never take advantage of someone she loved dearly. She pulled up a chair in front of Sansa and sat down, not wanting to invade the girls personal space.

"Are you alright, my love?" Brienne asked genuinely.

"Yes. I'm sorry. I just- I" Sansa struggled to get her feelings out.

"Hey, there's no need to explain. I understand" Brienne smiled at the girl.

Sansa stood up from the bed, making her way to the door. She didn't want to up and leave all abruptly just because she didn't want Brienne to think this was about her. Sansa walked back into the room and kissed Brienne on the cheek before saying goodnight and returning to her own place.

Chapter Text

The library had been filled with chatter for the last few hours. Jon, Tyrion, Daenerys, Arya, Sansa, Varys, and two of Daenerys' advisors sat and discussed a plan to overthrow Cersei. Daenerys' reign relied heavily on the alliances she had formed with the people, but ever since she found out the truth about Jon things changed. Their brother Jon Snow, now Jon Stark, learned that he was never actually Ned Stark's son, but his Ned's sister Lyanna's child. Lyanna and Rhaegar had actually fallen in love, gotten married in secret, and conceived a child. Rhaegar was killed and Lyanna died during childbirth leaving her brother with one final wish, to take care of her son and make sure no one ever found out about him. Jon of course told the rest of his siblings which didn't help to settle any angst between the foreign Queen and his family. Jon didn't want to be the King but Arya and Sansa had other plans in mind for their brother. They both begged him to go after what was his, but he remained loyal to his queen. He swore them to secrecy, to which they obliged bitterly.

Daenerys called this meeting to discuss the final move to Kings Landing. She was more than eager to gather her allies, arm them, and march them into Kings Landing. They went over the plan one more time, trying to make sure they didn't miss any minor detail.

"Alright" Daenerys agreed to the final plan.

Sansa wasn't satisfied with the plan, or maybe not so much the plan but the timing. They had just finished fighting the dead, thousands of men died, hundreds wounded. Sansa didn't think now was the right time, but Daenerys the taste of success was too sweet for the foreign queen to ignore. She grew agitated and impatient as she tried to keep the mad side of the coin flipped downwards.

"The men we have left are exhausted, many of them are wounded. They'll fight better if they have more time to rest and recuperate" Sansa finally spoke up.

"How long do you suggest" Daenerys spoke clearly unsettled about the idea of waiting.

"I can't say for certain, not without talking to the officers at least" Sansa responded.

"I came North to fight alongside you. At a great cost to my armies and myself. Now that the time has come to reciprocate you want to postpone" Daenerys was bitter.

"It's not just our people. It's yours. You wanted the North to remember? You'd wish to throw them into a war they're not ready to fight?" Sansa remained poised.

"The longer I leave my enemies alone the stronger they become." Daenerys didn't budge.

The room grew silent. Sansa and Arya both squint their eyes at the white haired woman. Something about the way she stared, the way she spoke, the way she smiled in the face of fear gave the Stark girls an unsettling feeling. This was a bad idea, and they did not approve.

"The North will honor their promise to you, My Queen" Jon spoke, upsetting his sisters.

A few other things were discussed before the meeting was closed. Sansa was the first one out the door, furious about having to send her people into another battle most won't return from. She hated the hierarchy, she hated that Jon was in charge, she even hated the fact that she hated him being in charge her. Sansa stormed off down the hall finding herself outside of Brienne's door. She burst open the door, without thinking to knock, running into both Brienne and Podrick.

"My Lady . . . what- what are you doing in here?" Podrick was startled.

"My apologies Podrick. I need to speak with Brienne. Could you give us a moment?" Sansa said, trying to keep her composure until the boy was gone.

After the door closed shut with Podrick on the other side, Sansa stormed over to Brienne. She sat in her bed, legs tucked under the sheets, back resting against the headboard, watching as the redhead fumed. The bruises on her face began to fade away slowly and the swelling around her eyes went down too. Slowly but surely her face was returning to the one Sansa fell for. The room was still and warm, thanks to the fireplace lit by one of the servants who came through earlier. Sansa's nostrils flared in three small whiffs before her face scrunched up in repulsion. Whatever brown liquid substance Brienne was eating reeked of boiled rabbit, something Sansa absolutely despised. To her the smell resembled unwashed feet, but to others, it smelled like the best meal of their lives.

"Ugh, that soup smells awful" Sansa covered her nose with her shirt.

"If you've only come here to insult my meal, I'd rather you go" Brienne smiled amusingly as she pointed to the door.

Sansa leaned over now pouting like a big baby. The blonde laughed faintly before placing her soup down on the nightstand beside the bed. She adjusted herself, parted her legs slightly and motioned for Sansa to climb between them. Sansa grinned as she cuddled in the space of a plush fur comforter that covered Brienne's legs. She rested on her side while Brienne caressed the hair on her head softly now giving Sansa all of her attention.

"Bending the knee to Daenerys Targayren was a mistake, and he didn't even realize it. I hate men. I mean, we barely survived the Long Night. You barely survived. And now she wants to send the remaining knights, healthy or not, to storm King's Landing." She now rolled onto her back, looking at an upside image of Brienne before continuing. "The North is the reason all of Westeros is alive. We're done fighting" Sansa was outraged.

Brienne heard every word that came from the girl's mouth, still she had a hard time processing it. After staring into a sea of blue too long, like a boat, Brienne's mind would begin to drift. She'd watch the way her lips formed to make words, and the way her eyebrows crinkled and her hands flared up whenever she was speaking about something she felt passionate about. SHe felt happy knowing that whenever Sansa felt something, Brienne was the first person she came to. The right corner of her mouth tilted upwards as she listened to her amusingly, still playing with the strands of fire sprouting from Sansa's head.

"What on earth is so funny?" She slapped her hands down against the mattress. One one side she missed, hitting Brienne's shin. Brienne barely flinched but Sansa felt it, a dull pain grew in her left palm as she waited for an answer.

"I'm sorry, my love. You're very cute when you're angry" Brienne spoke somewhat startled by how freely the words came..

"Stop it." Sansa blushed.

Brienne took a strand of red between her pale long fingers, and tucked it behind Sansa's ear. Then she placed a small kiss on the girl's head. Sansa couldn't help but let her anger fade, Brienne had that sort of effect on her.

"I don't know your brother well. But from the time I've spent with him, I think we can say Jon knows what he's doing. Maybe he truly has faith in the fact that she will be a good ruler." Brienne tried to rationalize with Sansa.

"Jon is being blinded by love. I'm telling you Bri, that woman is not who they think she is" Sansa sat up to look out the window of the bedroom.

The snow finally stopped falling, but the below freezing temperature kept the snow glued to the ground. Sansa listened in a painful silence as she overheard Jon walking through the solid ice crunching ground of Winterfell, alerting the men that they needed to prepare to march south for the Queen. She returned her gaze back to Brienne as the woman shuffled around to sit up straight.

"Promise me, that after all this is over. We'll marry" Sansa looked at her clearly hypnotized by love.

"What?!" Brienne replied with a shocked tone.

"Promise" Sansa was serious.

"I'd love nothing more than to wed you my love. But . . .how?" Brienne asked.

"I don't know. But we'll find a way" Sansa nodded confidently.

Sansa squished Brienne's cheeks together as she pulled her into a peck. Sansa wanted to stay in Brienne's room all day, but she knew if she did people would notice. Some already knew about the two's relationship but for the most part it remained an undetected secret. Brienne was fine with it, it came with the territory, at least to her. But Sansa was the exact opposite. She figured after everything she had been through, thinking she'd never find true love, she more than deserved to be happy and unchallenged. Now that she's finally found love, they expect her to keep it locked away. As if something so pure could also be something to be ashamed of.

"Are you coming back tonight?" Brienne spoke more suggestively than she thought.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Sansa teased the wounded woman.

Sansa's body jolted, causing Brienne to respond the same way. For someone who seemed to be angry a few moments ago, the girl was now full of bubbly energy. It was another thing Brienne added to her list of reasons to love Sansa. When they first met, the girl kept this side of her hidden. Now that she was more comfortable with Brienne, an unexpected silliness rose to the surface. Sansa held her finger in the air while telling Brienne she would return shortly. She lifted the end of her dress up on one side while exiting the room. The girl practically skipped through the frosty air of the castle, too excited to give Brienne her present to feel how cold it actually was. She arrived at her chambers and grabbed the box that sat on her bed. Her long black fur coat stood out first, it was something she made while she was at the Wall. She picked up the overcoat, tossing it over her shoulder, onto her back, and clipped it at the neck. She skipped back to Brienne's room, giggling excitedly as the fur slapped against the back of her legs with every hop. She opened the door now noticing that Podrick had returned.

"Sorry about earlier Podrick" Sansa apologized.

"It's okay m'lady. I understand you two need some alone time" Pod wiggled his eyebrows.

Brienne gave him a stern look, as if she was his mother. Podricks spine straightened as he redirected his attention elsewhere. Sansa snickered at the way the two bickered like family.

"What's this?" Brienne asked.

"Open it" Sansa encouraged her.

Brienne opened the box to find a pair of garments. She lifted up a thick long sleeve black tunic. Its grey buttons aligned in a row on the left side of the opened top. The diamond like pattern was stitched so elegantly, not a single thread wiggled out of place. Brienne was amazed by the perfection of the piece, she couldn't believe Sansa was this good. She then lifted up the brown woolen pants, the same pattern embroidered into them. Brienne chuckled to herself slightly as she noticed just how long her legs actually were.

"Wow, this is incredible," Brienne gasped.

"Do you like it?" Sansa questioned now biting her nails

"Of course. I love it. Thank you" Brienne kissed Sansa softly.

"You two are just adorable" Pod couldn't help himself.

Brienne looked at Pod like he was her father, cheeks bright red, flushed from his embarrassing comment. Meanwhile Sansa was hit with a brilliant idea. She always loved the feminine aspects of life they were just stolen from her. But she intended to get them back, she wishes to truly enjoy the rest of her life.

"Pod, do you want to help me plan a secret wedding?" Sansa squealed excitedly.

Pod looked at Brienne with wide eyes, wondering why his best friend didn't tell him about their engagement. Brienne gave Pod a "ignore her" look, which of course Sansa noticed.

"I saw that look Bri" Sansa spoke without turning to face Brienne.

"My love, we aren't getting married" Brienne tried to explain.

"I am sister to the Warden in the North. One of the last Starks in Winterfell. The people will learn to be just fine with it" Sansa couldn't help but dream.

"I'd love to plan a wedding," Pod interrupted.

Sansa practically gouged everyone's eardrums with the other loud shriek of excitement. It wasn't that Brienne didn't want to marry the girl, she was just worried about what would happen once she was brought back down from the highs of her bright pink bubble. She's been denied so many of the finer things in life, could she handle someone else crushing her dreams.

"I see the worry in your face, my love. No time for worrying, time to plan the most beautiful secret wedding ever" Sansa danced around like a princess.

Sansa and Pod sat on his bed and talked about everything, colors, gowns, food, even a little bit of consummation. The pair couldn't be more excited, even Brienne was beginning to fall in love with the fairytale ending Sansa painted for their life. Brienne went to try on the outfit Sansa made for her. She stepped into the washroom briefly then returned in different clothes.

"What do you think?" Brienne asked, showing off her outfit.

"You look marvelous, my love. Very attractive" Sansa clapped as she walked further into the room

"I like it. Can you make me one M'Lady" Pod questioned.

"Just call me Sansa. And of course" She smiled.

"Is it too tight anywhere, too loose?" Sansa walked over to Brienne to feel the clothing.

She moved her hand all over Brienne's body, normally this wouldn't be a big deal but they've been spending an awful lot of intimate time together. Brienne couldn't help but think of the things she wanted to do to Sansa, and the things she wanted Sansa to do to her. Brienne held herself together, and answered the girl.

"Nope. It's perfect. Thank you my love" Brienne rushed into the bathroom to change.

"What's with her?" Sansa squinted.

"She wants you," Pod whispered.

The thought of being intimate with Brienne was coming around. Touching her felt less like a punishment and more like a reward. But still she was nervous, whenever she heard about sex involving a man and a woman's parts. Doing it with Brienne seemed complicated, but Sansa was eager to try.

Brienne came out of the washroom dressed in her prior clothing. Sansa knew she needed to get back to her family, they had a lot to discuss after the meeting this morning. She wished she could hide out in their room all day, but that wouldn't be very ladylike of her.

"We shall continue this later" Sansa pointed at Pod.

"I'll be thinking of ideas all day!" Pod sounded genuinely excited.

"Goodbye" Sansa said before disappearing.

"I'll see you later," Brienne smiled.

Pod turned his attention to Brienne immediately with an overly excited grin on his face. Brienne rolled her eyes, ignoring her squire's stupid expression. She informed Pod that they were going to be heading out for training now and that it was time for him to get ready. They both dressed in their new Winterfell armor that Gendry had worked on post battle and headed to the grounds. Arya was joining them this afternoon, making this sparring session much more eventful than before.

Chapter Text

Sansas eyes fluttered open to the old family painting that hung above the fireplace in her room. Her head slowly moved up and down, matching the rise and fall of Brienne's chest. The two had spent the night together. Nothing too intimate happened, just some cuddling and conversation. Afterall, there was a lot to discuss.. After Daenerys and her army stormed south to King's Landing, something inside her broke. She burned innocent women, elderly, and children as she rode on the back of her dragon spewing fire across the whole city. She succeeded in killing Cersei while also almost wiping out the entire population of King's Landing.

Daenerys eventually made her way to the throne, which didn't have a single non-scorched wall left standing to protect it. Jon went after her and stabbed her in the chest putting an end to a reign of terror before it truly began. They received the ravens news yesterday morning, and were set to leave today. Jon was now being held prisoner awaiting the punishment for his crimes, and the important Lord and Ladies of Westeros were summoned to discuss the next line of succession. Sansa was overwhelmed by the thought of anything bad happening to her brother. Given the Starks' history in the south, her fear for Jon's life wasn't completely irrational. Jon had done more than enough for Westeros, including killing the Mad Queen. That's how Sansa viewed it and she hoped they would see it that way too. She confided in Brienne late last night, resulting in them spending the night wrapped in each other's arms. The sun peeked through the glass window, now casting its warmth and light on the two women. Brienne's stirred awake now holding her hand in front of her eyes.

"Are you awake?" Brienne whispered groggily.

"Yes." Sansa replied simply.

"How are you feeling my love?" Brienne began to rub her hand up and down Sansa's back.

"I'm really glad I have you here with me" Sansa lifted her head off her chest.

She turned to look at the blonde woman who smiled at her. Sansa rose out of bed, her mind only thinking about one thing. Brienne moved the cover from over her legs, wanting to follow after the girl. But she knew she just needed some space.

"You know, I have two sisters," Brienne told Sansa.

"Really? I thought you were an only child. Where are they?" Sansa turned her attention to Brienne.

"They were kept secret for a reason. I also had older brothers, but they died at war." Brienne told Sansa.

"I'm sorry my love" Sansa apologized.

"It's alright. I remember when I was a little girl, and my second brother had just passed. My father walked onto our sparring grounds, he knelt down in front of me, and he said. 'Brienne, you can never marry, you understand. You need to keep the Tarth name alive my strong girl.'" Brienne recalled an incident.

"I always thought that was just him trying to cover up the facts that he already knew I would turn out to be unlovable. My mother was tall, so were my brothers, and the last time I saw my sisters they looked like they'd be tall too. I worried about them a great deal when I first left. I thought I was being too selfish for leaving my sisters with the responsibility of being the heir" Brienne spoke with her head low.

"Brienne. I love you with all of my heart. That sounds like quite the opposite of unlovable if you ask me" Sansa moved back to the bed.

"Then you must understand exactly how much you mean to me my love" Brienne kissed her forehead. "I'd do anything for you. Even if that means going against the new ruler. I'll do what it takes to save your brother."

"Let's hope it doesn't have to come to that. I can't lose both of you" Sansa smiled widely.

"And you won't" Brienne gave Sansa a very serious look.

The two knew they needed to get up and prepare to leave for King's Landing. It would take them a day and a half to get there. Brienne decided to take Sansa's advice about the armor, there wasn't any fighting going on so she wouldn't put it on. Instead she dressed in her freshly sown Winterfell garments. The black and grey suited her well though it wasn't quite as colorful as the fabric in Tarth. While Sansa slipped into a beautiful black gown one of the seamstresses made for her, Brienne left the room so anyone that did see her would think that she arrived here this morning. Shortly after Sansa exited without drawing attention to their situation.. They reunited at the horses stables again just so no one would pick up on all of the extra time they spent together. Arya, Bran, Brienne, Pod of course, and Gendry were accompanying Brienne and Sansa on their trip south.

Sansa felt a lot of anxiety about returning to the south. She swore she never would, that she would always send someone to do her work for her. But the Lannisters were dead and she saw the people she was surrounded by as true friends and family. She felt her cage door opening more and more everyday. Brienne was a big part of why Sansa felt like she could do these things, but the truth was, Starks have always been built to last.

"Alright, we all ready to go?" Pod asked before getting on his horse.

"Let's race!" Gendry slapped the back of his horse roughly.

Arya and Pod followed after him on their own horses, leaving Sansa and Bran in the carriage, and Brienne on the horse leading them. Brienne's horse charged forward, causing the carriage to almost tip over on its back. Sansa and Bran gripped onto the sides as their teeth clenched in fear. Brienne steadied the horse while cursing under her breath and rolling her eyes at the three who caused this.

"Sorry my lo- . . . My Lady, My Lord" Brienne almost
blew her cover.

"Oh don't worry Ser Brienne. I know all about you and my sister." Bran spoke confidently.

Brienne looked back at the redhead with her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed. Her eyes returned to the road while her mind tried to put the pieces together like a puzzle. Sansa couldn't help but snicker at their interaction, she was already aware of Bran's power. She reflected on the support she received from the boy which allowed her to speak more freely. Still she didn't say anything, truthfully, she enjoyed watching Brienne squirm.

"Three eyed raven, remember?" Sansa finally spoke up.

"Yes. I recall," Brienne spoke hesitantly.. "So what exactly does that entail?"

"I'm the keeper of all time. I can see all things from the past, present and future. Including your secretive moments with my sister if I please" Bran replied joking with the woman. "But I most likely in the past these days"

"Oh. Thank you for that." Brienne had never felt more uncomfortable in her life.

The journey to King's Landing from Winterfell was rather long. The group tried to travel with as many little stops as possible. They slept in tents, or in the carriage, guarded by Ser Brienne, Pod, and Arya of course. Gendry and Arya found themselves getting very cozy, especially in front of others.

Sansa and Arya were sharing a tent tonight, Pod was on guard duty right now, and neither of the girls could rest. They were both worried that Jon's fate was already sealed, especially because of how long he'd been imprisoned already. What if they'd already killed him and were planning to kill off the rest of them. The Stark girls hardly trust anyone nowadays, especially people from the south. Sansa turned her body so she could face Arya before speaking with her.

"What do you think they're going to do to Jon?" Sansa spoke afraid to even put those words into the air.

"I'm not sure. But it doesn't matter. I won't let it happen" Arya dismissed Sansa's thoughts.

"What if it gets out of our hands Arya?" Sansa's panic seeped through her skin.

"It won't Sansa. I've trained to be more than just a pretty princess who sits on her ass waiting to be courted. I worked hard to be able to defend what's left of the people I love" Arya spoke, wounded by all the loss she's suffered for the past six years.

"You don't have to be so mean" Sansa took it personally.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just don't want you to worry about Jon, Brienne and I have got this" Arya spoke confidently.

Sansa forced a small smile. She placed her trust in the hands of the small army of loved ones she had left. Her heart slightly fluttered at the way Arya spoke of Brienne's naturally. She wanted everyone to know Brienne for the person she truly is, and they all seemed to enjoy who they were getting to know. The two girls turned back to their sides and shut their eyes hoping to gain a few hours of sleep.

It was important that they get to King's Landing as fast as they could. Sansa was the first to wake, she no longer saw Arya in their tent. When she stepped outside the only living thing she saw was the horses, no one else was up. Sansa decided to peek inside the tents just to make sure everyone was still here. First she found Bran all alone, sound asleep on the ground. Then Pod and Brienne, they were practically cuddled up inside theirs. Then she opened Gendrys tent, and there was her sister. They were both completely naked.

"Arya?!" Sansa couldn't help but yell out.

The two of them shot awake, fumbling to cover their naked limbs.

"Sansa, get out!" Arya pushed Sansa out of the tent and zipped it closed.

"Ooooohhh, little sister's being naughty" Sansa teased her sister.

"I'm going to kick your ass Sansa," Arya replied, frantically looking for her clothes.

She moved her hand allowing for the curtain to cover their indecent acts of exposure before returning to the center of their temporary camp. Sansa sat down on one of the logs that surrounded the extinguished fire from last night. Brienne was the next to exit the tent, clearly woken up from all the noise. She rubbed her tired blue eyes before they focused on the redhead girl, then a small smile grew across her face.

"It's a lovely morning isn't it?" Sansa patted the seat next to her.

"It is indeed my love" Brienne sat next to the girl, kissing her softly. "What was all that noise?"

Just as Sansa was about to answer the question Arya came storming out of the tent with Gendry behind her.

"You little shit, you did that on purpose!" Arya argued with her sister.

Brienne was confused about what was going on, but decided to let it play out on its own. Their bickering in a twisted sort of way reminded her of home, her family, something she pretended not to miss.

"Good morning Gendry" Sansa ignored her sister.

"Morning, M'lady" He said awkwardly.

Brienne gave Sansa a look, realizing she just put all the pieces together. The redhead could no longer contain her laughter. She threw her head back, now letting a hysterical sound echo through the forests.. The thought of Arya sexually involved with a boy surprised basically everyone. Sansa went to wake up Bran and Podrick so they could prepare to get back on the road. They had a few more days to go before they arrived, some were already growing tired of the journey

"Lord Stark, can I ask you a question?" Brienne questioned.

"Of course," Bran responded.

"If you can see the past, present and future. Then you know what's going to happen to Jon. You know who's going to be crowned the King of the Seven Kingdoms, yes?" Brienne asked.

"Yes." Bran replied without saying another word.

Sansa and Brienne both looked at Bran, wondering why he wouldn't say any more. They traveled for hours before stopping to eat together. They pulled over to the side before Brienne came down from the horse to collect logs. Brienne helped Bran out of the carriage and into his wheelchair, then Sansa came down. They ate some skinned rabbit and stew that the kitchen officers of Winterfell prepared for their journey.

"So does . . . everyone here know about us?" Brienne whispered to Sansa.

"Yeah. Why, did you not-?" Sansa shrugged, eating more food.

"No. I-I don't mind actually" Brienne smiled.

Sansa took that happily, leaving a small kiss on Brienne's cheek. It was the first time they had been explicitly romantic with each other in front of someone other than Pod, let alone a group. Their acceptance meant a lot to them, especially Brienne. Sansa's life has turned her into a trailblazer but Brienne's left her wanting to hide in her shell. And that is something Sansa wouldn't allow.

Chapter Text

Gendry, Arya, Bran, Sansa, Pod, and Brienne arrived at King's Landings yesterday night. They were told a meeting regarding the remaining lords and ladies of the country would be held to discuss a few different things in the morning. Now here they sat in chairs aligned in a shape that somewhat resembles a circle. They were sprawled out underneath three different red tents that were set up by the hosts in an attempt to block their guests from the harsh rays of the sun. Of all the time Sansa spent in King's Landing she never had a chance to see the dragonpit. The enclosure had to be a few hundred square feet. Its sand covered ground reminded Brienne of the island she was raised on. Despite there not being any water around, sand alway smelled like the salt of the sea. The walls were both broken and tall, the edges were jagged that Sansa imagined some of it crumbling down and crushing them. Everyone's heads twisted, taking in the sights of something gloriously historic as they waited for the meeting to begin. Fourteen different highborns sat together anxiously as they awaited to hear the future of their kingdoms. Sansa sat with Arya and Bran, feeling that they needed to be united when they fought for Jon's freedom. While Brienne sat on the other end, representing her house in place of her father who couldn't make it. It was weird for Brienne to feel like she was the head of her house, it was a duty she never wanted to take on.

"It pleases me to have us all joined together today, deciding the fate of the future" Lord Tully stood up and began to speak.

"Now I Edmure Tully, one of the many wonder Lords of the country, have survived much more than one can imagine. Two batt-" He continued but was interrupted.

"Uncle, please sit" Sansa interrupted him.

Lord Tully looked forward to his nephew, Ser Davos and another Lord to see them snickering at Sansa's words. He placed his hand on his sword to move it out of the way before sitting back down. Sansa and Arya glared at the man for a moment before turning their attention to the rest of the group.

"We have to choose someone" Ser Davos started the meeting.

"Well why just us?" Samwell Tarly, the new Lord of Horn Hill.

His father and brother were burned alive due to the madness of the Foreign Queen. Sam's comment caught the attention of the group, so he stood up.

"We represent all the great houses. But whoever we choose, they wont just rule over the lords and ladies. Maybe, the decision about what's best for everyone, should be left to . . . well everyone." Sam spoke optimistically.

There was a moment of silence before Ser Davos, Lord Tully and his nephew began laughing. Soon all the other Lords and Ladies were laughing except the ones who knew him well. Sam sat back down, feeling embarrassed about his suggestion. Sansa couldn't help but smirk at the comment, they felt as if they were above such an idea.

"Well I suppose you want the crown" Lord Tully looked towards Tyrion.

"Me? The Imp? Half the people hate me for serving Daenerys, the other half hate me for betraying her. I can't think of a worse choice" Tyrion rolled his eyes.

"Well who then?" Lord Tully questioned.

"I've had nothing to do but this these past few weeks. About the mistakes we've made, our history . . . what unites people? Armies? Gold? Sigils? Stories. There's nothing in the world more powerful than a good story, it can't be stopped or defeated. And who has a better story, then Bran the broken" Tyrion looked towards Bran.

Everyone's head shifted, Arya and Sansa had to adjust themselves in their own seats; they were so caught off guard.

"He fell from a high tower and lived. He learned to fly, crossed beyond the wall as a crippled boy, and returned the three eyed raven. He holds our memories, our stories, our wars, our weddings, our legacy. Who better to lead us into the future." Tyrion stated.

"Bran has no interest in leading. And he can't bear any children'' Sansa interruped.

"Good. The sons of kings can be cruel and stupid as you well know" Tyrion spoke directly to the redhead.

They could all see in her face that Sansa's mind was changed from that point on. She was on board with her brother being the king.

"The wheel the Foreign Queen wanted to break. It can only be broken by Bran" Tyrion added, now looking towards everyone. "From now on, the rulers of Westeros will not be born, they will be chosen. Hand selected by the best, for our people"

"I know you don't want it, or care about power. But I ask you now, if we choose you, will you wear the crown and lead the seven kingdoms from this day until your last" Tyrion spoke to Bran directly.

Bran paused for a moment before smiling at Tyrion.

"Well why do you think I came all this way?" Bran responded.

"To Brandon of House Stark, I say Aye" Tyrion nominated.

Slowly surely the "Aye's" echoed all around the room. At that moment, for the first time in years, they felt like they were all making a great big decision. Ser Davos was the last person to say Aye before it came to Sansa, the last person to speak. She turned to him before casting her vote in.

"I love you little brother. I always will. You'll be a good king. But tens of thousands of North men fell in the great war. Defending all of Westeros. And those who've survived have seen too much and fought too hard ever to kneel again. The North will remain independent, as it was for thousands of years" Sansa spoke out against kneeling.

Bran nodded his head in agreement to the plan Sansa had devised. They all knelt as Tyrion pronounced Bran the new Ruler of the Six Kingdoms. Bran announced that he would like to keep Tyrion as Hand of the King being that he knows the struggles of the people and the lord and ladies well. Once they all sat back down, Tyrion announced the second part of why they all came together, to discuss Jon's punishment for killing the Foreign Queen. One of the Foreign Queens men pulled Jon forward by his arm, tossing him into the center of the people.

"Jon!" Arya stood up but was stopped by a guard.

"What about this traitor? He killed our queen" Her men yelled at the group.

They all turned their heads towards King Brandon, waiting for him to announce what he wanted to do.

"I refuse to kill Jon. But I don't think it would be just to let him off just because he is our brother" Bran spoke.

"Brandon!" Arya protested.

"Jon, I'm sorry. But I'm stripping you of your title in the North and all possible future titles. You will live out the rest of your life as a commoner, wherever it is you wish to." Bran spoke.

Arya was furious at Brandon, but she knew she wasn't in the position to say anything, so she stormed off. Sansa didn't care for that either, but she felt it was just enough, and would still honor the people. As for the Foreign Queen's men, they were furious, but Bran pronounced that those that refused to bend the knee had to return to their home lands. Anyone who wished to stay could. Jon's head fell low at his fate, met with sorrow over the fact that he just lost everything.

"And one last thing. Gendry will remain the Lord of Storm's End, just as the Foreign Queen ordered under her temporary reign." Bran smiled towards Gendry.

"I know nothing about being a Lord, Your Grace" Gendry responded.

"Well, looks as if you've got a lot to learn" Bran ended the conversation.

After the meeting many of the Lords returned to their respective kingdoms. But the ones returning to Winterfell decided to head out the next morning. The journey was tiresome, and heading back the same day they got there wouldn't have made the journey feel worth it. They all saw Gendry and Arya off on their journey to Storm's End. She decided she would go with him for now, teach him what she knows about being royalty, then she would be off on her own journey. Bran wouldn't be returning with them being that King's Landing was the home for a King. Which left Sansa, Brienne, Jon and Pod to head back on their own. Practically all of King's Landing was burned to a crisp due to Daenerys and her dragons. Most of the black soot covered corpses still laid stiff hot and stiff in the streets. The city was going to need remodeling and Bran would be around to see to it all. King Bran sent out the remaining men to gather the people who survived Daenerys' attack, while he devised a plan to house them. He gave Pod, Brienne and Sansa two rooms underground. Pod slept in the room by himself, while Brienne and Sansa shared the other.

The sun was gone, leaving the moon to light up whatever was left of King's Landing. Sansa laid in the bed while Brienne removed the remaining pieces of her armor. She turned to Sansa, eager to discuss everything that happened.

"I can't believe your Brother is the King. And Jon . . . it's a shame" Brienne stated.

"Jon never wanted to lead anyways" Sansa shrugged.

"Can I ask something, my love?" Brienne's head tilted slightly.

Sansa nodded with a mmhmm.

"If Jon was stripped of his titles, and the North is an independent Kingdom. Who's ruling it?"

A sense of realization washed over Brienne as the words fell from her mouth. Sansa gave the woman a genuinely nervous smile. She too had been pondering over the same question. A chance to be Queen. It was all she ever wanted, and to do it without a man beside her felt beyond great . . . It was empowering.

"Do you know what this could mean?" Sansa's eyebrow perked up.

Brienne shook her head no in response.

"If I am Queen of the North. I can marry whoever I please" Sansa placed her hand on Brienne's cheek.

"You're serious?" Brienne was shocked.

"Brienne. I want to be your wife. I want you to be my wife." Sansa looked deeply into her eyes.

Brienne didn't need to be convinced or persuaded into wedding Sansa. She would marry the girl in a heartbeat if she could. A jolting rush sped through Brienne's body. She felt as if Sansa was leading her to the edge of a cliff, more than prepared to jump into the water together. Although the blonde trembled slightly, there was nothing in this world that would keep her from leaping with Sansa.

"Okay my love. But I have to travel to Tarth first" Brienne said.

"Back home. To tell your family?" Sansa was excited.

"My love, if we marry, who will take who's last name. Can it even be legitimized by the Citadel?" Brienne rose to her feet.

"When we wed you mean" Sansa corrected Brienne. "Please let's not stress about the details of that right now. Can't you just celebrate with me?"

Brienne couldn't understand how Sansa could prance into an idea like this so blissfully. If they planned on convincing the North that not one but two women should be in power, they would need to build a strong case to plead. One strong enough to sustain an attack from the dead. Still, Brienne agreed to put the topic aside and enjoy the remainder of their night in King's Landing together.

Chapter Text

Jon, Sansa, Pod, and Brienne arrived back at Winterfell early in the morning. They placed the horse and carriage back into the stable before practically sleeping walking to their beds. Winterfell was beautiful in the morning. The chill of the howling winds and the pure white snow let the Starks know they were finally home. There were important things to discuss about the future of Winterfell but for now they needed to rest. Jon barely said a word to anyone during their entire journey back. Despite not wanting to be King, he grew more and more enraged at the way they treated him. His mind was made up, he wouldn't stay in official Westeros territory any longer. He decided to keep that decision to himself for now. He wanted his final moments here to be somewhat peaceful. Jon was the first to leave the group, mumbling a goodbye before disappearing into the castle. Then Pod and Brienne went off to their chambers, and Sansa returned to hers.

After a few hours Sansa awoke from her chambers and prepared herself for the day. There was a knock on her door, so she rose to answer it. It was Pod, he came to let Sansa know that the news of Jon and King Bran had arrived through a raven just this morning. The castle stormed the great halls, demanding Sansa come down to discuss the fate of Winterfell. Sansa dismissed Pod from her chambers and drew herself a bath. She soaked in the tub for a while, letting the water wrinkle up her skin. When she was out and dry, she dressed herself in a yet another beautiful hand-stitched raven colored gown. She brushed her hair out, and added two braids that connected against the back of her head. Sansa rose to her feet, moved towards the door and took in her last deep breath as Lady Sansa.

When Sansa first entered the meeting chambers she was surprised to see that all of the knights of Winterfell, including Brienne, were already there. As she walked down the center aisle they began to kneel. Sansa held her breath in realization of what was happening. She wasn't expecting them to be prepared for her coronation this soon.

"All Hail, Lady Sansa Stark, The Queen of The North!" A knight shouted while thrusting his sword up in the air. Then the man kneeled.

Sansa continued to walk, feeling more than grateful for her community. The fact that they trusted her enough, especially being a woman, to rule over them as an Independent. Sansa finally arrived outside of the meeting chambers. Two men pushed through the crowd to move the other chairs once occupied by members of her family. There was only one chair left, a throne with two wolves replacing the ears of the chair. A sudden pool of tears began to form in the back of Sansa's eyes, she never saw herself crying when she became the Queen in her dreams as a child. She quickly wiped her face before sitting down on her throne for the first time. Then Brienne appeared holding the Queen's newly forged crown. The bulk of its circular shape was made of solid iron chainmail, two ferocious wolf heads sat and the ends smelted together to form the singular point in the middle of the crown. Both Sansa and Brienne thought it was a beautiful piece, one made specifically for a beautiful ferocious girl. She placed it on top of Sansa's head with a smile on her face.

"The Queen of The North!" They chanted one last time.

The people in the room then settled, giving Sansa a turn to speak to her people for the first time, as Queen of the North. Sansa rose to her feet once again before opening her mouth.

"I know some of you might doubt what sort of leader I'll be. You were devoted to my brother Jon, as was I. But I assure you, ever since I left Winterfell, I've done nothing but fight to return and defend the North from all that threatened to see us perish" Sansa created a round of applause.

"I fought for our Independence and now we're free from the tyrants of the south! Now with your blessing, I swear to continue to do so, as not just Lady Stark of House Winterfell but Lady Stark of House Winterfell and your Queen in the North! " Sansa spoke to her people as if she was born for this moment.

The North roared in support of Sansa's rise. For centuries the Starks remained a respected noble house, but the respect they showed for Sansa today was different. It was more than gratitude, it was adoration and complete devotion. Sansa apologized for cutting the celebration short, but now that she was Queen, there were a few things she needed to attend to. She promised a great feast tonight in celebration of her coronation. But first need to appoint herself a handmaiden considering from this day on she was going to be a very busy woman.Sansa approached a woman who looked to be a few years younger than her. She had black hair that was braided into one ponytail down her back. Her dress and coat both had the same shade of browns and black, and her eyes were a normal shade of Brown.

"Your name?" Sansa asked.

"I'm Lena Godfrey. My father Aaron is a butcher, and my mother was a handmaiden before she passed away. Not too shortly after the death of Lady Catelyn" The girl introduced herself.

"Any interest in being my handmaiden then?" Sansa smiled as she watched the girl gasp.

The girl's face lit up at Sansa's offer. She nodded her head quickly before attempting to follow Sansa to her chambers. Sansa informed the girl that she could start tomorrow, because right now there was only one person Sansa wanted to talk to. The new Queen of the North made her way to the upper level of the castle. She found herself outside her older brother's door knocking.

When Jon came to open the door, he startled Sansa. He still wore the same expression he held when they left for Winterfell, a look of bitter betrayal. Sansa made her way inside her brother's room, and sat on his bed. Jon closed the door behind him before turning around and realized there was a crown on his sister's head.

"The Queen in the North" Jon said, sounding somewhat bitter.

Sansa froze not knowing how to respond to it. She couldn't understand why she felt guilty. Not too long ago Jon was King in the North and he threw it away. Sansa fought to be here and it wasn't to say that Jon didn't. It simply was different

"Father would be proud. I think you'll make a greatQueen, little sister" Jon wrapped his arms around his little sister.

"Are you staying here in Winterfell?" Sansa questioned Jon.

Her eyes diverted to Jon's things. A few piles of clothes, small nook like items, some food, and his sword sat perfectly in the midst of his bed. Just by his feet laid the chest he intended to load it all into. The sound of Sansa's heart cracking filled her eardrums as she began to tear up in realization of Jon's decision. She felt her family slipping away again. One by one they walked, turned their backs and walked into a cloud of nothingness. No matter how hard she fought and tried pulling them back, they'd just keep going until they vanished completely, the same as the rest of her family did.

"Aye. I can't stay here. It's embarrassing" Jon was clearly frustrated.

"Jon, there's a place for you here. You could join the Queensguard, or maybe-" Sansa tried to reason with her brother as she choked on the pressure building in her throat.

"Some of the Freefolk wish to stay, some of them wish to return North. That's where I'll be. I'm done with family names, bending the knee,and fighting for people who don't give two shits about me all of it. I just want to be . . . free" Jon sounded defeated.

Sansa felt like she couldn't argue with him, he worked so hard to build a name for himself, to be something other than a bastard. And when he finally earned it, it was taken away from him. Sansa pulled her brother into a big hug, now dampening the sleeve of his surcoat as she cried against his arm.. He promised her he would stay for the celebration feast, but he wouldn't stay much longer than that. Sansa left her brother with his thoughts and his bags, returning to her room alone.

She sat in front of the mirror taking in the reflection of her puffy red eyes. They moved to the reflection of her crown now somewhat admiring the way it sat at the center of her head perfectly, almost like it was meant to be there. Sansa prepared herself to select all of the members that accompany the Queen, and would help her maintain peace in the North. She couldn't help but think of her parents, and how proud they would be to see her in this position. Part of her still wishes she and her family never left Winterfell all those years ago, but where would she be without her suffering. She wished she could ask her siblings about who should be involved in the small council. Who should be her hand?

Sansa needed to get a hold of Brienne and Pod. They were her only friends, the only ones who returned North with her. She couldn't make all these decisions by herself, nor did she want to. Sansa opened her door to find one of the young servant boys, she requested to have someone send for Brienne and Pod. Then she sat back in her chair and awaited their company.

"The Queen of the North!" Pod barged into the room swinging his sword.

He hit a vase with the back end causing it to explode once it hit the ground. Brienne looked at Pod with a stern expression causing his spine to straighten out. The smile grew back on Pod's face once he realized Brienne wasn't actually angry. He embraced Sansa in a big hug, squeezing her tightly.

"Lady Sansa- I mean Your Grace" Pod said in a sarcastic sophisticated manner. "I cannot believe it. You've been crowned Queen of the fucking North"

"Podrick. You're in the presence of the Queen. Speak with some dignity, please" Brienne spoke with her spine straighter than ever.

"My love, do you always have to be so serious?" Sansa cupped Brienne's face.

"Well . . . no," Brienne smiled, finally relaxing.

"Good. Kiss me then" Sansa threw her arms around Brienne's neck.

Brienne's hands gripped the sides of Sansa's waist, pulling her to the tips of her toes as their lips connected. Brienne was truly happy for the girl, she couldn't think of any one who deserved it more. Sansa has done more than enough to prove she is a strong, noble, and very capable leader. But Brienne couldn't help but worry about all the traditions. If she wanted to be ruler, she could never wed because women take their husband's family name. She needs to bear children if she wants the legacy to go on and how could she do anything of this with Brienne of Tarth.

"You're worried" Sansa's hand found its way back to Brienne's cheek.

"That's all she does," Pod rolled his eyes.

"I do not" Brienne scoffed at his suggestions.

"You do worry a lot. But it's one of the many things I love about you" Sansa kissed Brienne's cheek before plopping on her bed.

"There's no need to worry, my love. Whatever it is you're thinking of in that gorgeous blonde head of yours, stop. Step by step. We will figure it out together"

Those words reassured Brienne, making her nerves fly away like a disturbed flock of pigeons.

"So, can I ask why you called me in here as well." Pod interrupted.

"Yes. Well, I have many positions to fill. I need some advice. There's Master of Coin, Master of Ships, the Grand Maester, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard." Sansa looked at the two.

"What about your Hand?" Brienne questioned.

"Well that's easy. You" Sansa brushed over that

Brienne and Pod exchanged looks at each other before looking back at Sansa. Their jaws might have been on the floor collecting dust. They were so shocked.

"What- My Love, I can't be your Hand" Brienne protested.

"Why not?" Sansa asked innocently.

"Because, I- I'm a knight. I'm not much of a people person my love" Brienne tried to decline nicely.

"Well, what about the Lord Commander of the Queensguard?" Sansa offered. "I want you to be apart of my small council"

"But, if I join the Queensguard. We can't marry." Brienne rationalized with the girl.

"I've never really cared for that rule. I can ensure that my knights are loyal to me without taking away their right to love and family. That will be one of my first tasks as Queen. The North will be made brand new." Sansa was optimistic about her reign.

The three of them sat for a while, thinking of who could fill what position. She thought of sending a raven out to Yara Greyjoy about being the Master of Ships. Especially because of how much she missed Theon, even if he did all of those terrible things to Winterfell. She thought of making the Last Mormont girl, who conveniently was named after Sansa's aunt, the Master of Coin given their somewhat wealth and family history. Podrick, once he's done more training of course ,could be her Lord Commander of the Queensguard, and all she needed was to get in contact with the citadel and have them send a few Maesters over so she could appoint one. But picking the Hand was going to be tricky, there weren't many people left she trusted beyond that.

Once the plan was figured out, Pod and Brienne saw to it that the offers were sent out by ravens. And that the people were making their way down to the feast. Sansa also requested that the two find people who were willing to be her servants; she would need more than just a handmaiden, a lover, and a squire. Sansa was preparing herself for the feist, when she heard a knock on her door.

"Your Grace, my apologies. I just wanted to let you know that the realm is waiting for you in the hall" Lena smiled wide.

"Thank you Lena. Be sure you join us for the feast. Eat as much as you'd like." Sansa placed her hand on the girl's shoulder before exiting the room.

Sansa walked down the hall, turned the corner, and made her way down the stairs. She stood in the door frame as people rose to their feet, then she proceeded to walk. Once she took her seat on the throne her people sat and continued to chat. Sansa ate her dinner and drank her fine wine before opening up the floor for a discussion.

"It is very exciting to be dining with you all today, as your Queen. I thought after everything we've survived the least I can do is make sure your stomachs are full. There are a few things I wanted to announce to you all. I'm sure there are many things you all are wondering, about my small council, if I'll marry, the legacy, my brother Jon. First I want to assure you I am working at collecting my small council, ravens were sent out this evening. As for if I'll marry . . . well I'll save that one for last. The Stark legacy will continue, it has always stood strong. And Jon, he won't be staying in Winterfell after tonight" Sansa stood while speaking to her people.

The people received Sansa's news well, they appreciated that their Queen was honest with them. But many were confused as to how Sansa plans to keep the Stark legacy if she didn't immediately promise an idea of marriage.

"I will be changing many rules. Rules that I think aim to limit your quality of life. That being said, the Queensguard will no longer require that knights not be wed or have children. Sansa announced.

"Though, those of you who enroll in the competition will have to work twice as hard to prove your devotion to the Queen" A smirk on Sansa's face grew, letting the people know that was mainly a joke.

"As for marriage. I think what happened at the Red Keep. with the trial and slaughter of Loras and Margaery Tyrell was horrible. I think our fight against the dead has proven that there are greater threats out there than true love. So from here on out, if you are both men, you can marry. If you are both woman, you can marry." Sansa announced with a big smile.

This time Sansa didn't get as big of a round of applause. The few who did just blatantly admitted to havingsame-sex interests and interactions, while the others were just happy to hear Sansa liberating their people. Those who didn't applaud, seemed puzzled by the fact that Sansa would feel the need to make that announcement. Most of Winterfell didn't care to pay attention to who bedded who, especially if they weren't highborns. But to wed them, that was a completely different story.

"Well how can they have a family then?" Someone yelled out.

"They don't have to, not if they don't want. And if they do, there are plenty of orphan children they can take in. Sansa replied.

He nodded his head, truly hearing what Sansa's intention was with this conversation. But the audience could tell there is something else Sansa was going to announce.

"And for my final announcement. Ser Brienne of Tarth, could you come up here for a moment?" Sansa held her hand out as she waited for Brienne.

For a quick moment, Brienne thought that trembling feeling was coming from the earth. Turns out a six foot three person with bad nerves] could shake just as hard as an earthquake. Brienne rose to her feet, her knees begging to buckle. But she managed to put one foot in front of the other until she joined Sansa in front of her people.

"As for my marriage. I will be marrying . . . Brienne of Tarth!" Sansa exclaimed.

The room couldn't have been more silent, leaving for only the vibrations of a fly to be heard.The people looked at the two with confused looks on their faces. Though both Sansa and Brienne began to feel the pressure of their public announcement, they stood tall and firm in their decision.

Chapter Text

The thirteenth knock at Sansa's door echoed through the private chambers, its hollow wooden pounding began to disrupt her thought process. Now she grew angry, as she drifted further and further away from a calm state of mind. Her servants were doing their best to keep people outside and composed but leaving after making a statement as outrageous as that would cause a response exactly like this. Most of the women went about their days not giving the announcement of the Queen a second thought. They figured who the Queen married had little to do with keeping their children fed and their roofs solid. Those who remained were men, mainly religious fanatics who felt it was their duty to the Gods to inform the Queen that her love was forbidden and would not be seen as true in the eyes of the Old Gods. Sansa didn't wish to hear any of it, she felt that if the Old Gods truly didn't want her to have this, then they wouldn't have presented her with the feelings in the first place. She'd never really put much thought into the idea of faith, especially when she was at her lowest. But as things began to look up for the girl, she found herself believing again. In what, she wasn't sure, but she was glad to feel a second presence again.

Finally the Queen had enough, she stormed to the door of her chambers and flung it open harshly. A man wrapped in a religious robe stood at the front of the fleet. He thrusted his fist into the air, shouting unintelligible words as he flashed his almost toothless mouth.

"Your Grace, this is not the path the Gods intended for you!" He tried to push through the door.

"Apologies, Your Grace. We're doing our best out here" Quieran pushed back the people.

Sansa shut the door quickly, now panting in response to how overwhelming the small mob forming outside was. Brienne sat silently in the wooden chair by the window. Externally, she did a good job at masking her fear. But on the inside she was as frantic as a thief caught stealing.

"Maybe we should take it back" Brienne suggested

Though the pushback she received was expected, anticipating a response doesn't always aid in navigating the feelings that came with it. She felt it was unfair, that had a right to be happy, and the complaints of her people had nothing to do with the concern for the realm. Even after being broken in, emotionally tormented, and held captive, Sansa could still see through the smoke curated to block the people from what was truly important. So why couldn't they? Her anger practically spilled over, now sending Sansa storming back towards the door whilst ignoring Brienne's pleads to wait. She stepped outside her room and slammed the door behind her. The halls fell silent as the eys of the people fell upon a clearly angered Sansa.

"People of Winterfell. Need I remind you, that camping outside of my sleeping chambers to voice concerns and grievances is highly inappropriate." Sansa scolded them.

"I am your Queen, and I demand to be treated with more respect than this. I'm well aware of my duty to hear your concerns when it is in regards to the realm, not my personal relationship with the Gods. That being said, if anyone wishes to voice a concern about my pending marriage that pertains to the existence of the realm. I'd love to hear it. But anyone who stays on this line and speaks of the Gods will be hanged for treason. That way you can take your grievances up with them personally" Sansa addressed the crowd.

The people froze now growing wide eyed at the Queen's words. A few of the men took that as their queue to scurry away like mice. While others began to question their decision in appointing Sansa as Queen. Even from behind the door Brienne could hear the shocked grumbles of the crowd. She cringed in fear of Sansa losing her people before her legs developed their own autonomy. She joined Sansa outside of the chambers taking in the sights of the disgruntled people of the castle.

"I'd like to say something" Brienne appeared from behind Sansa.

Sansa was somewhat surprised to see Brienne addressing more than three people at a time. She too feared her words may have been a little too rash, and hoped that whatever Brienne had to say would aid in making things a little better. After all, they were only asking to be happy.

"I know it seems strange, us being two women. But, I pledged an oath to House Stark, to the late Lady Catelyn Stark, promising to keep her daughters safe. I never would have imagined that in fulfilling my oath I'd also fall in love with a woman born to be your Queen. I don't need to remind you what she's done for the North, what she's given, what you all have given. Your Queen has sworn to make the North a place more tolerable for all. All she's asked in return is that you let her love freely. Seeing as the last few people without the Stark name who called themselves KIngs and Queens practically asked for your lives . . . I think it's a fair price to pay" Brienne reasoned with the crowd.

The redhead looked to Brienne in awe of how freely she spoke. She felt a great sense of honor in hearing how Brienne viewed her and her family. She then turned her attention to the crowd, hoping that the blonde's words moved the crowd in the way they moved her. They looked at each other, and shrugged now tossing their grievances about Gods to the side. Brienne was right, the Starks had done a lot for the North, and never asked for much in return. They were a house built paid for by the pleasures of honor. The men started a new chant, one that would suffice them well.

"The Queens of the North!" A young man chanted drawing his swords up in the air.

They all chimed in, chanting for their Queens of the North. Sansa and Brienne took each other by the hand, soaking up all the glory the people gave to them. The two were finally able to return to their private sleeping quarters now that the mob had begun to slowly disperse. Adrenaline raced through the redhead. She pinched her forearm in disbelief of how smoothly that went, now causing a small red circle to form.

"Bri, I can't believe it. You addressed the people so well. So noble. You were made to be my Queen." Sansa was excited by everything that just happened.

"I too am surprised at how easy that was" Brienne was equally as excited.

Brienne pulled the girl into a kiss, now feeling some of the same adrenaline that rushed through Sansa in her own vein. The kiss caught Sansa off guard at first. Despite spending most of their alone time with their lips attached to each other like leeches, she still wasn't used to kissing. Being that things were still so new to them both, kissing between the two rarely went beyond a peck. But this kiss. This was different. This time they didn't pull apart until they were forced to take a breath. Sansa quickly reattached her lips to Brienne's when suddenly a faint moan slipped from her mouth. The seductive sound sent a spark in Brienne's nerves now wrapping her big muscular arms around the petite waist of Sansa Stark. The air in the room began to heat up as Brienne lifted the girl up, placing her on the bed. She hesitated before climbing on top of her and reconnecting their lips. Sansa's nimble finger tips fumbled at the buttons holding Brienne's tunic together. Her excitement grew as she popped open the first three now anticipating the wonderful sight of her naked lady to be. Brienne wanted this more than she wanted anything else in the world, more than she wanted to be a knight. Still she felt like something about this was wrong.

"It's okay my love. I'm . . . okay." Sansa panted still trying to sound somewhat brave,

"No it's not that. I mean I'm glad you're okay now. But maybe we should wait" Brienne stood up while buttoning her shirt back up. "Till after we're married."

"Yeah, we can wait." Sansa hoped she didn't sound insecure. She did.

"My love, I'd love nothing more than to . . . do the thing . . . with you. It's just, I can't help but feel defiling you before the wedding lacks an important sense of tradition" Brienne tried to get through the awkwardness.

"You can say it, you know. You'd love to make love to me. Nothing dirty about it. Besides, 'do the thing' just doesn't sound as romantic" Sansa laughed at herself.

"You know what I meant" Brienne chuckled, shaking her head disapprovingly.

Their laughs fizzled out now leaving the room silent and still. This happens often, and neither of them seemed to mind. Sometimes even in having nothing left to say to one another, Sansa still appreciated being in the presence of Brienne. In a way, Brienne's unconditionally loving energy healed many wounds within her. She sometimes found herself clinging to her in a suffocating manner, as if the woman would up and leave one day. That was when she'd remind herself that this wasn't the same as what happened in the past.

"I wanted to run something by you. First, I'd really like for you to be the Lord Commander of the Queensguard. And this time you can't refuse. You'll be helping me a great deal." Sansa proposed.

"Alright, I will be the Commander of the Queensguard." Brienne complied easily.

"Oh- well that was easy" Sansa said.

"As for your hand, you'll need to get on with appointing them sooner than later." Brienne informed her.

"I know. I'll need to think a bit longer on that one. But I have one more question. Do you think Pod would be interested in joining the Queensguard?" Sansa asked genuinely.

"Podrick? No, he still needs to train, he isn't serious enough. He's got a lot to learn." Brienne objected.

"You're too hard on him. You've been teaching him for months now. I think he's ready, my love." Sansa tried to reason with Brienne.

"Did he mention this to you?" Brienne wondered.

"Yes." Sansa replied hesitantly.

"Okay, I'll have a talk with him." Brienne responded.

It was time for Brienne and Podrick routine training anyways. Brienne spammed the redhead with goodbye kisses before exiting the room. She made her way down sparring quarters, catching the eyes of many. They didn't seem to be judgmental looks, more so looks that let her know there was talk. Regardless of how good or bad. Pod was already waiting in the corridors fully suited up with his blade in hand, ready to spar.

"Sansa tells me you no longer wish to be my squire. But a knight of your own. That true?" Brienne drew out her sword.

"Well yes, but Ser Brienne, if you still think I have more to learn from you. I would be more than happy to stay longer. I want to be the best I can be." Podrick responded standing with respect for Brienne.

"Podrick. As your knight, I want you to do whatever makes you happy. We will have one last fight, and then you can become a knight of Winterfell. As for a position in the Queensguard, I'm sorry Pod but you don't have enough experience to be there yet. Soon though." Brienne smiled telling Pod the semi-good news.

Podrick became very excited about the future, and his journey to be a knight. Brienne promised him she would knight him soon. As for the Queensguard, he understood what Brienne meant, Pod still wasn't the most elegant on his feet. The men of the Queensguard needed to be the best of the best. Brienne and Pod picked up their swords and sparred for hours. Brienne taught him about low shots, high shots, dodging. They went over everything, Brienne couldn't help but feel proud. Watching Pod swing his sword the way she does, dodge the way she does, it made her feel good to see that. They finished sparring practically when the sun came down. Brienne told Podrick that he needed to pack up their stuff one last time and get ready to head to supper.

Brienne and Pod returned to their room to put their things away and to change out of their armor. They placed the swords on a stand, and their armor on a mannequin. Once they were dressed and smelling better than before they made their way to the dining chambers. As soon as they entered the room, eyes shifted towards Brienne and the whispers remained unknown.

"Now that's something you're going to have to get used to." Pod joked about the watchers.

"I don't think I ever will." Brienne rolled her eyes at the attention.

Pod and Brienne grabbed their food and sat where they usually sat. Brienne tried her best not to make eye contact with the Queen, it was bad enough everyone was talking about them she didn't need them to see them making eyes at each other too. Sansa noticed the lack of eye contact, sitting alone at the head table. It was quite lonely at the top, she must admit. A few other men joined Brienne and Podrick at their tables, which was unusual.

"Can I help you?" Brienne dropped her spoon in her bowl.

"My apologies, Your Grace. I just-" The boy spoke but was interrupted.

"Ser works just fine. Not technically a 'Your Grace', yet" Brienne interrupted him.

"My apologies Ser, I just thought it was important you know. I heard word from one of the men in Karhold that Lady Karstark is planning on dishonoring their pledge to House Stark because of your pending marriage." The boy cowered terribly afraid of insulting the Queen's betrothed.

"Yeah, they're not the only ones I heard that from either. The Cerwyns too." Another one chimed in.

Brienne felt overwhelmed with the news she was hearing. Their small victory meant so much to them, that they forgot about the rest of the North. The word traveled fast, some houses shrugged, some didn't. She knew she needed to assure them that they would handle it, and there was no need to worry.

"Thank You, I'll be sure to relay that message to the Queen. But from here on out, speak to a servant of hers or even her directly. Not me" Brienne couldn't help but still be annoyed by their presence.

"My apologies, Ser. But if you're set to be the Queens . . . wife . . . shouldn't these things concern you too? " He continued to pry.

"What's name, boy?" Brienne was really ticked off.

"Harison Stylles, Ser." He stood up nervously.

"I suggest you find somewhere else to eat, Harison '' Brienne threatened now, staring the boy down.

The boys grabbed their food, and moved to eat at the further end of the table. Pod laughed at how the boys cowered, and focused his attention on his friend. The Queen finished her supper before everyone, and excused herself for the night. She didn't look too happy, nor did she even glance at Brienne. Leaving Brienne feeling like the girl was upset with her.

"Um, Ser, would it upset you if I sat with Malson and Grenn? I know we usually sit together and-" Pod rambled.

"It's okay Pod, go on" Brienne gave the boy permission.

Podrick placed his bowl on the back right corner table for collecting before joining some of his friends. They weren't men from the Queensguard, just men with regular jobs in Winterfell. Brienne finished her meal before attempting to exit the dining hall.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, Ser. I don't think we've officially met yet, I'm Ser Krystane Serlatos. I'm a knight from Castle Cerwyn." He stuck his hand out for her to shake.

"Hi" Brienne sounded confused about the conversation.

"I was just hoping to spar with you, like you do with Podrick. I didn't fight much in Cerwyn, set to be a blacksmith like my father but, the North needed men to fight, so I came. When I survived the Long Night, I realized I was on the wrong side of swordsmanship. I don't know much about fighting though, I've heard you're the best in all of Westeros, you defeated the Hound. Well, almost" Krystane rambled for a bit.

"Okay Krystane. I'll let you know the night before when and where to meet me for lessons." Brienne agreed, sounding partially annoyed still.

The man thanked Brienne before returning to wherever he came from. Brienne figured she should go and speak with the Queen and warn her of the possible rebellion.

Chapter Text

Brienne and Sansa had been engaged in a shouting match since the crows woke this morning.. All of the Lords and Lady's of the North were called to Winterfell for a meeting. They needed to talk about their pledges, filling positions of the small council, and the rumors of people opposing their marriage. It was time for them to gather with their newly appointed Queen of the North. Sansa believes Brienne should be there alongside her being that the woman was set to be her bride. But Brienne feels her presence being forced upon the people so soon would only serve to make matters worse. They both agreed that Sansa needed to form her own personal bonds with the noble houses of the North, and not as a Stark but as Sansa, the girl apart from her surname. Brienne simply felt this was something the girl needed to do alone.

"I don't understand why you don't wish to stand alongside me" Sansa huffed out.

"It isn't that,my love. I- I just feel that my presence isn't necessary. A Queen does not sit in on meetings when the King rules." Brienne argued.

"But there is no King here. I want us to rule together, as one" Sansa tried to explain to the taller woman.

"Alright, alright." Brienne complied, solely for the sake of ending the argument

She truly didn't feel this was the best way to go about it, but she didn't to add to the stress that was already looming over Sansa. The two women had already dressed for the meeting, being that neither of them could settle their nerves long enough to get any rest. Brienne held the door open for her Queen, now walking closely behind her and they roamed the castle for the meeting hall. Two of the Winterfell knights jolted into a militant position before holding the tall heavy wooden doors open for them All of the House seat within the room were filled with the grungy bottoms of the Northern highborns, all except for the Dreadfort and Last Hearth. Being that both the Bolton and Umber house names went extinct between the Battle of the Bastards and the Battle of Winterfell, those castle's were not currently being manned. Sansa hoped to get that situation under wraps before they became overrun with thieves, rapers, exiles, and whatever other evil lied within the unfortunate people of Westeros.. The Lords and Ladies rose from their seats, awaiting for the Queen to sit so they could as well. Sansa took her seat at the head of the table and Brienne stood directly behind her, a bit off to the left.

"Well, it is good to see some familiar faces again." Sansa smiled, greeting her people.

"Let's just get this over with. Castle Cerwyn will not be bending the knee to two Queens and that is final" Lord Cley Cerwyn objected.

"Aye, that is not something my men will fight for," Lady Alys Karstark agreed.

"Does anyone else feel the same way as House Karstark and House Cerwyn?" Sansa remained composed as she looked around the room.

The other Lords and Ladies said nothing, allowing for their silence to voice that Lord Cerwyn and Lady Karstark were the only two in the room who wished to change the mind of the Queen. Sansa let out a subtle sigh of relief as some of the pressure from her chest faded.

"Who will take us seriously? Every time we march into a battle, anytime we voice a concern. They'll see us as nothing more than a joke, fighting for a place with two women in charge and no heirs." Lord Cerwyn continued to voice his concern.

"They've got a point there" Lord Glover hated to admit. "If you do not bear children, who will inherit the throne"

"Who do you suspect we will be in need of proving ourselves to. The freefolk we've made peace with, or the southers currently ruled by my brother King Brandon Stark" Sansa argued with the group.

"You brother cannot father children either, the throne will inevitably be passed onto another. Can you guarantee they'll be as kind as Lord Stark? What happens when another secret greedy Targayen, Lannister or Baratheon pops up and we're thrown into another war" Lord Cerwyn argued.

"You and I both know all of those houses are extinct and are no longer a threat to us" She snipped back.

"Westeros has a reputation for resurrection, Your Grace" He replied in a sly voice.

"I'm sorry, My Queen. But we can no longer honor our pledge to House Stark. Your cause is simply too outward to follow. It has the potential to risk the lives of thousands." Lady Karstark scoffed.

"Well then . . . you both will be removed from your position as head of the castle" Sansa said simply. "I shall find other Lords and Ladies to replace you, just as I plan to do with Last Hearth and the Dreadfort.

The rest of the table looked at her as if she was crazy. The Long Night took out a lot of men, plenty of heads of Northern houses that had been around for centuries. Even their heirs were killed. Removing a Karstark from the North would be just as bad as when Sansa's older brother Robb beheaded the late Lord Karstark. That decision practically split the North into countless pieces, and gluing it all back together took many years. Sansa wanted to avoid this like people avoided the black death. But she knew she could not keep people in positions of power if their loyalty to her was untrue.

"My father was too noble. Too busy doing the right thing, like honoring rules to a game of thrones that has been rigged since the beginning of time. My brother Robb was too influenced by his heart, he saw my fathers mistakes and figured that in order to be successful he had to make decisions with only his heart. He never listened to his advisors! He killed your grandfather, Lady Karstark. And lost the trust of ten thousands of Northern men." Sansa began to inform the people of what she knew.

"Which should I be? A woman with honor, or a woman with heart?"

The Lords and Ladies looked around the room as if they were supposed to answer that question.

"It is within my greatest hopes that I can be the much needed balance of both. I do not wish to cast you out, Lady Karstark nor you, Lord Cerwyn. Words cannot express how much I value our families longrunning history. But if we want the North to remain the strong realm it had been for centuries, it needs to remain united. And if you cannot follow loyally behind your Queens of the North, then you will be exiled. As for your men, the people of your castle. They will be given to another Lord or Lady, one willing to rule over them as a highborn sworn to the realm. Those who wish to remain true to Winterfell can always be taught to lead, and will take your position as Head of the Castle" Sansa spoke to the two with such assertion.

Lady Karstark began to contemplate her decision. She too honored the relationship between the Starks and Karstarks, despite what happened between the Queen's brother and her father. The strength of its existence was in their blood, in their names. It was embedded in the soil of the First Men, and in the ashes mixed through the winds of the North She knew that if her father was here he would want her to bend the knee. He'd be man enough to put aside the past and follow the Starks into any dark corner. Lady Karstark found herself completely persuaded by the the words of the Queen and pledged her fealty to House Stark once more

"I just have one question, it's for Ser Brienne of Tarth" Lady Karstark looked up at the tall woman.

Brienne's mind had wandered off a while ago. Being that she wasn't being addressed directly, she tuned out what was being said. The only thing filling her mind was returning to Tarth, telling her father she would never be head of their house, thus resulting in the loveless life of her sister Ilizabeth.

"Yes?" Brienne responded.

"You are your fathers only child and he grows older by the year. What happens when it is time for you to fulfill your duty?" Lady Karstark raised an eyebrow at Brienne.

"My father was made very aware that my departure from the island meant I refused to inherit any land. What happens next is no longer any of my concern Brienne responded swiftly. "My loyalty lies here, in the North. To my Queen"

Lady Karstark was satisfied with her concerns, questions, and thoughts. It would seem that Sansa has won over the Karstark House. She turned her attention to the shaggy haired young man sitting at the far end of the table. Somehow she got the feeling he wasn't influenced by her words in the slightest.

"Well, it looks like I will be removing myself from Head of the House then" Lord Cerwyn stood up.

Just as Sansa and Brienne were about to intervene. Lady Lyanna Mormont stood up angrily. Her small stature may have seemed cute and innocent. But when she opened her mouth, even grown men felt something inside them rattle. After her older brother Ludwig was killed by the resurrected giant and briefly before that their mother died fighting the War of the Five Kings, Lyanna was left in charge of Bear Island at the ripe age of thirteen. She wore black wood from head to toe, along with the signature Nothern for clipped around her neck. Her pale complexion resembled the average Northerner, as well as her dark brown hair. Her cheeks grew bright red as she began to shout at the man.

"Lord Cerwyn, sit down!" Lady Mormont's voice bounced off of the walls.

The room practically shook as the young girl raised her voice. Lord Cerwyn sat back down in his chair, his eyes shifting back and forth in embarrassment at being commanded by a female child. Hushed snickers filled the faint silence of the room before Lord Cerwyn whipped his head in their direction. Brienne smirked slightly at the girl's courage, she senses a great familiarity within her.

"You've disgraced your house, Winterfell and all of the North for far too long. Your father was skinned alive by the Boltons, men who resided in the North for all your life. Men you trusted, and called brother. Many of your men died protecting the North, protecting Westeros. Now you wish to throw all your house's honor away because the Queen isn't interested in men." Lady Mormont defended Sansa.

"I know I'm young but given what I've seen men do to a great country. I'm not so sure I'm interested in them either. I'm sure none of us here want a stupid coward like you ruling any castle in the North.Yet here you are, now show the Queen some respect, and sit your ass down so we can get on with the rest of the meeting. I believe there are more important matters to discuss than a wedding." Lyanna scolded him before finding her seat. "Pardon me, I meant no offense by that, Your Grace"

Lord Cerwyn quickly turned to the Queen and pledged his fealty to the woman as if the words were projectile vomiting out of his mouth. Now that Sansa was able to strengthen the ties between the Lord and Ladies of the North, with the help of one tough chick from Bear Island, they were able to move onto things that truly were more important. The plan to aid Kings Landings by supplying them with builders to help with the capitals resolution came up briefly. Then they began to discuss forming a small council. Just as Lord Dormund opened his mouth to speak, the doors to the meeting chambers flew open. Yara Greyjoy stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. Her shoulder length brown hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in days. Her clothes slightly torn, and clearly worn out.

"Hello Lady Sansa" The Greyjoy girl smiled.

"That would be My Queen or Your Grace to you" Brienne corrected the woman from across the room.

"Aye, I've heard you'd been mounted by . . . well a blonde mountain" Yara joked, upsetting the Queen.

Brienne drew her sword, charging towards the other side of the room where Yara stood. She threatened to carve her like a pumpkin if she spoke another disrespectful word in the presence of the Queen.

"Ser Brienne, it's fine." Sansa stood to stop Brienne from harming the woman.

Yara smirked at Brienne with her crooked yellow teeth. The Greyjoys were never very clean people, not as filthy as the Freys were, but pretty close. Brienne slit her sword back into its scabbard. She took a few steps back keeping her hand on the pommel.

"Is there something you need, Lady Greyjoy? You've already been appointed the Lady of the Iron Islands, in honor of your late brother Theon. What more could you possibly want from me?" Sansa questioned her.

"That I am, and I am ever so grateful. My traitorous uncle died where us Greyjoys thrive the most, at sea. Only he was burnt to death by a dragon but . . ." Yara spoke clearly amused by everything that has transpired.

"Get on with it" Sansa replied.

"I want to be your Master of Ships of course. I hear nowadays you're really into girls and well here I am. I've got the largest sea army in all the North, and they're all itching to be yours" Yara proposed.

"You were faithful to the Foreign Queen if I recall correctly. And that I do. Even post-death. Against the well being of the Country, and the well being of my brother. Why should I trust you now?" Sansa spoke bitterly.

"My apologies, Your Grace. I felt that Daenerys owed our loyalty. Her and her dragons played a huge role in continuance of the Andal race" The Greyjoy woman grew serious.

As much as Sansa hated hearing people speak highly of the Queen who only was for a second, she could understand why choosing sides was difficult. Sansa thought about traveling to Tarth due to the soon to be alliance between their families. But relying on ships to come from the south was unrealistic. She looked at the Greyjoy woman smirking in annoyance, Sansa hated that Yara knew she needed her.

"Well, alright. You've been given a fair chance Yara. Do not disappoint me" Sansa still remained firm with the woman.

"That I will not. Thank You, Your Grace" Yara bowed before finding her place in the back of the room.

"Now if there isn't anything else. We've got to prepare to sail south" Sansa smiled while standing

The meeting was adjourned and everyone was set to leave for their respective castles. Sansa and Brienne saw them to the castle gate waving goodbye as they rode their horses out of the Winterfell gates and onto the road.

"My love, what exactly did you mean by sailing south. Sailing where?" Brienne questioned.

"We are going to Tarth" Sansa smiled.

Chapter Text

The Queen isn't supposed to leave her post, not without leaving someone in charge. Before leaving for Tarth, Sansa tried to handle all of her affairs. But being that she still was out of touch with some of the North, she worried that filling her small council now would be more of a desperate move than a strategic one. She discovered that many people of Dreadfort fled after the Boltons stormed Winterfell. But there was a slight possibility that some remained there in hopes of being granted the castle when the Starks inevitably took back their home. The thought of dealing with an abandoned castle worried Sansa, she didn't know what to expect. Now that they were set to sail to Tarth, restoring the order of the Dreadfort would have to go to the topSansa's list of things to tackle immediately upon her return. The same thing went for Last Hearth.

Thankfully, Sansa was able to set aside some time to decide who would be her Hand and rule over Winterfell while she was gone. She felt that no one could be a better Hand than Lyanna Mormont. Although the girl was young, she was confident, she was strong, and she showed a sufficient level of loyalty that personally impressed the Queen. Being the Hand meant she would have to leave her home and live in Winterfell, but Sansa devised a plan to keep the Mormonts alive and well. They formed an agreement that one of the second oldest Glover boys would hold Bear Island until the Mormont girl became of age. She would marry a lowborn or a seventh son of her choosing and bare children with her family name, that way the Mormont dynasty would live on. The people of the North were truly baffled by the idea of a man letting go of his family name, regardless of his class level. But the Queen promised them a different world, a world that benefitted them all, and they were willing to see it through.

Already the young Mormont girl was being put to the test. Brienne and Sansa would be gone for at least two full moon cycles, and being in charge of the North this young was no easy task. Some of Sansa felt like it might've been too much but Brienne reminded her that a Hand should be just as fierce as their Queen. She was pretty confident in feeling that Lyanna was strong and respectable enough to keep all of the North together. She knew the young girl could handle being the Hand of the Queen.

Brienne and Sansa left from Widow's Watch, sailing south to the island of Tarth. Sansa was excited to visit, she'd never been and most importantly she was excited to meet Brienne's family. To see where the girl came from, and what made her who she is today. Brienne on the other hand was quite nervous to return home, she left about eight years ago, and was sure things had changed. Her younger sisters should be sixteen and twelve now. And her father, well who knows what he is up to. As they approached the docking point, they noticed three figures standing there. Brienne thought her family might have caught word about their arrival, but as the ship moved closer they realized it was just a few guards. The boat arrived at the dock, and the two were set to get off.

"Is that Brienne?" One looked in awe of how much the girl had grown.

"Hello, I am Ser Brienne Tarth of Evenfell Hall. This is Queen Sansa Stark, ruler of the North" Brienne introduced the two. "Please escort us to the castle that way we my father can receive us more properly"

The men's smiles were wiped off their faces by Brienne's words. They adjusted their form to a position more respectful for a Queen and a future heir. Sansa smiled at the men as she pulled Brienne further into Tarth. Eighteen men who had fully recovered from the Long Night accompanied the two women to Tarth, just as a safety precaution. They formed on the sides and behind the Queen and her future Queen as they walked towards the Evenfall Hall.

The island was beautiful, incredibly warm, just as Sansa remembered the South. Sansa's eyes shifted everywhere, she never thought she'd like a place as much as she loved Winterfell. But something about the water was incredibly appealing to her

"Bri, Tarth is extraordinary" Sansa sounded like a child being handed dessert.

"Yeah, that it is" Brienne responded barely above a whisper.

"My love, you've barely spoken to me about returning. I mean I understand why you left but why are you so nervous about coming back" Sansa stopped the girl to talk.

"Brienne, is that you?" A young woman called out.

Brienne turned her attention to the woman calling her name. A very familiar face, one she hadn't seen in years. The blonde woman that approached them was a few shades darker than Brienne, after all the island received lots of sun. Her eyes were bright green, almost like a dragons. She wore a long sleeve dress, it was also green, just a few shades lighter than her eyes. She embraced Brienne in a big hug, causing the Queensguard to jump at the fast approaching woman. Sansa put her hand up, letting them know it was safe and they could be at ease.

"Moira, it's - it's good to see you" Brienne was startled by the girl.

"Wow, you've gotten even taller. And you look great, very pale. I can tell you've been spending a lot of time up North." Moria sounded very excited to see her.

"Thank you, so do . . . you . . . um . . . Moira, this is Sansa Stark. Queen of the North, Lady of Winterfell, my future wife" Brienne stumbled over her words.

Sansa looked at Brienne with an eyebrow raised, wondering why she was acting so weird. The woman began to laugh, thinking that Brienne was telling a joke. Once she noticed no one was laughing she stopped looking between the two women awkwardly.

"Wait, how?" Moria questioned.

"When you're a Queen, you do as you please" Sansa smirked.

"Oh wow. Well, that's great." The woman didn't seem pleased. "Anyways, Bri, what are you doing here? I have to show you my room and this new dress Mother Priscila made for me. She misses you dearly, she'll be so excited to hear of your return" Moria rambled on.

Sansa was not pleased with the way the girl interacted with them. She didn't like the way she touched Brienne's arm, the way she laughed at their marriage, the way she invited her into her room to see how clothes look on her body.

"My apologies Melra, but we're actually incredibly busy. We'll see you around though" Sansa hooked her arm around Brienne's dragging her forward.

The girl tried to correct Sansa after she said her name incorrectly but the Queensguards movement pushed her out of the way. Sansa went from enjoying Tarth to hating its entire existence in one fell swoop. They continued towards the Castle, now slightly out of breath from climbing the gigantic stairwell leading to its gates. The people working inside all stopped to get a look at the two. Their presence brought a lot of attention, attention Brienne always hated. They were met by servants at the door of the Castle, who led them into a meeting room, where they would await Lord Selwyn. The door opened and two young women came rushing in.

"Brienne, you're back" The blonde spoke, rushing into Brienne's arms.

The girls resembled Brienne, clearly the two younger sisters she talked about. The older one had blonde hair braided down to her butt, her eyes the same color as Brienne's, she was much more tan then Brienne, just like the smaller one. A bit shorter than Brienne but very tall for a woman. The younger girl had short brown hair and brown eyes to match. She was just as tall as the older girl, resembling Brienne the most. She embraced them in a big hug, with a huge smile on her face.

"Rilley, you've gotten so big." Brienne spoke to the brown haired girl. "Ily, you're hair, have you ever cut it?"

"Nope, nothing more than a trim" Ilizabeth smiled wide.

"And you, what have you been up to." Brienne asked Rilley.

"Making eyes with one of the blacksmiths boys. Even though dad has forbidden her from seeing him" Ilizabeth rolled her eyes.

"Shut up, father doesn't need to know. It doesn't matter anyways, neither of us have to be the heir since Bri is back" Rilley hugged Brienne again.

"My apologies, we're so excited to see our sister, we didn't introduce ourselves. I'm Ilizabeth Tarth and this is our younger sister Rilley Tarth, you are Sansa Stark of Winterfell" Ilizabeth introduced herself.

"Yes, it's a pleasure to meet you." Sansa replied, giving the girls a hug.

"We hear you're to marry our sister" Rilley spoke excitedly.

"Bri always imagined being in the Kingsguard. Never thought she'd marry the Queen instead" Ilizabeth laughed with her little sister.

Brienne was clearly embarrassed by the two rambling on about her hopes and dreams. Sansa laughed at how the two spoke of their older sister. They sat at the circular table, continuing to catch up on everything they'd missed over the past few years. The entry to the meeting chambers opened up again, this time an older man walked into the room. He walked over to the table without saying a word and stood over Brienne.

"Hello Father" Brienne spoke briefly.

"Bri, I've missed you so much" The man pulled her into a tight hug.

Brienne was startled by the affection her father showed her, she couldn't remember the last time she hugged him. Sansa watched the two feeling confused about their relationship, but happy to see her lover's family back in her life. Sansa wished she could hug her parents once more.

"How have you been, my strong girl?" He asked as Brienne towered over him.

"I've been fine . . . father, this is Sansa Stark she's the- " Brienne spoke but was interrupted by her father.

"The Queen of the North. And your bride to be! I couldn't be more excited for you dear. It's lovely to meet you, Your Grade" Lord Selwyn shook the girl's hand.

"Lovely to meet you, Lord Selwyn" Sansa smiled widely.

Brienne looked at her sisters, her eyes asking what was going on. They both looked away nervously which gave Brienne the idea to not trust her father. They all sat around the table once more, talking and truly enjoying each other's company.

"Rilley, Ily. Do you think you could give Lady Stark a tour of the castle. It's important I speak with Brienne alone" Lord Selwyn looked at his daughters.

The two rose to their feet to guide Sansa out of the room. Sansa gave Brienne a look reassuring her she would be fine on her own. Once they were gone, Brienne and her father sat awkwardly for a minute.

"Cut the shit, father. What's with the act, don't want to embarrass yourself in front of the Queen" Brienne snarked.

"What's embarrassing is you parading around this . . . this degenerative relationship like it's actually happening. You are meant to be here in Tarth, honoring your family, your people. Not playing knight and taking on other family names." He insulted everything she earned for herself.

"Father, I'm not playing anything. I've been knighted by the Lord Commander of the South. I've been appointed Lord Commander of the North. And being that Sansa is Queen, she can marry whoever she wishes, anyone who dares to question that would be executed for treason." Brienne deafened herself.

"Good thing she's not my Queen" He scoffed.

"No, but her brother, Brandon Stark, is your king and I'm sure he would wish to punish anyone who stands in the way of his sister's happiness. All the Gods of Westeros know she deserves it" Brienne threatened her father.

"It isn't my fault Baelon and Benjen died in battle. But there's always Rilley, and Ilizabeth, or even Ben's son. I cannot be the heir father" Brienne added.

"You've forsaken me child, forsaken our home, forsaken the gods" The lord rambled to himself.

While Brienne and her father argued over the heir to Tarth, and her pending marriage. Sansa, Rilley, and Ilizabeth walked near the shore. A mixture of sand, stone, and water, Sansa had never seen anything so blue in her life. They sat together under a canopy in the garden watching the shore from a distance.

"You're a quiet one" Rilley spoke.

"Rilley, my apologies, Your Grace. Our sister is a bit . . . ill-mannered" Ilizabeth apologized to Sansa.

"It's quite alright" Sansa laughed. "I can be a bit timid when being left alone in new places, the last time I went south . . . well let's just say it wasn't very pleasant"

"We've heard a lot about what happened in the mainlands. We're terribly sorry for all your loss, Your Grace" Ilizabeth bowed her head.

"I'm learning to cope with it. Having your sister around to protect me has truly been a pleasant yet unexpected experience.." Sansa blushed thinking about her lover.

"I never would've thought Bri the romantic type" Ily snickered.

"Is it true you watched them behead your father, the Lannisters" Rilley struggled to hide her enthusiasm about speaking to Sansa.

"Rilley." Ilizabeth scowled at the younger girl.

"Was your mother tall? My father was tall, but men usually are, except for my brother Jon. My mother was average height for a woman and I grew a little over the average height. But Bri, and you two, what do they feed you here" Sansa joked with them.

"We don't really remember our mother. She died when I was just a babe, and Ily four" Rilley sounded sad.

"My apologies, Bri doesn't talk much of her home life. I didn't know" Sansa apologized for bringing up the difficult subject.

"Our sister is never really too intimate with everyone. Never been one for jester" Ily informed Sansa.

"Except for Moira" Rilley mumbled just loud enough for Sansa to hear.

"Rilley, please excuse yourself" Ilizabeth was fed up with her ill mannered sister.

Rilley scoffed, and stormed off to the shore. There was a brief moment of silence. Sansa tried to fight off further inquiry about the girl they met earlier. But now that Rilley mentioned Brienne being close to her, she needed to know more.

"Moira?" Sansa asked.

"Yeah, she's just a woman from town. A blacksmith's daughter. They were close when they were younger. Before Brienne left" Ilizabeth was very vague about their relationship.

"Close in a friendly sort of manner only, right?" Sansa pried.

Ilizabeth looked at Sansa nervously, then diverted her gaze back to the shore. Sansa re-adjusted her posture, the discomfort moving throughout her body.

"Ilizabeth, tell me everything you know" Sansa demanded in a pleading sort of manner.

"I shouldn't" She shook her head no.

"Please." Sansa placed her hand on top of the blondes.

"Alright, but- Bri can never know I was the one who spoke of this. If she asks, say it was Rilley. Deal?" Ilizabeth checked to see where her sister was.

"Promise." Sansa agreed.

"They were friends, and then they were more. The three of us have always been close, so we were the only ones who knew she was interested in the blacksmith girl. We'd cover for her whenever she was out spending time with her. Moira was so kind to her, probably the only one outside of the family for a while. After mother died, our father turned cold and times were hard for Brienne. The idiots who weren't kind to Bri were just threatened by her potential. Moira saw that, and I think that's how they ended up so close" Ilizabeth went more into detail.

Sansa was definitely feeling threatened by the fact that someone else has been able to make Brienne feel worthy. She knew that sounded stupid and selfish, but she wanted to be the only one Brienne would turn to. Apart from her sisters of course.

"So why did it end? Did it end when Brienne left home?" Sansa asked.

"That part I've never been too clear on. All I know is that they stopped talking a few months before Brienne left home" Ilizabth shrugged.

Sansa was left wondering what happened between Brienne and the woman. She also wondered if now that she was back, would she want to stay and be with her instead?

Chapter Text

Brienne and Sansa spent the day enjoying Tarth, of course at the request of Queen Sansa Stark. Brienne showed her everything they could get to with the time they had, which wasn't much. They visited the ship harbors, the shore, the sapphire mines, and small niche places Brienne spent as a child. Sansa's favorite part may have been the farm where the Lord Commander mentioned learning to fight with farm animals. At first her heart ached at the thought of Brienne beating sheep with a wooden sword until she told a few stories in which the sheep hit back. Sansa laughed hysterically when Brienne lifted up her shirt revealing a small scar just underneath her right breast. She couldn;t understand why she found the whole thing to be so humorous, but the image of young lanky Brienne fighting farm animals and failing practically turned her stomach inside out.

When they returned back to their sleeping quarters, the sun had started to set. Sansa stood looking out the small window of the castle suspended thousands of feet into the air. Her heart fluttered in awe of the beauty of the sunlight on the horizon. She watched intensely with the hopes that she would never forget the way the big yellow circle was reflected on the surface of the crashing sapphire blue waves. She never imagined loving anything nearly as much as she loved the snow, but the warmth of Tarth produced great serotonin within the girl. Lost in a sea of bliss, Sansa didn't notice that Brienne began to change into a different set of clothing. The motion in her peripheral vision snapped her out of her trance, as she now furrowed her brows in confusion.

"Where are you going,, it's getting late" Sansa turned, now walking towards the bed in the middle of the vibrant colored room.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I completely forgot to tell you. I'm going to meet with Moira. The girl we met when we first arrived." Brienne said innocently.

"What for?" Sansa sounded annoyed.

"She asked me to come see her things, remember?" Brienne didn't realize Sansa's energy change. "Plus we're old friends and I'd love to catch up"

"Are you going to fuck her?" Sansa asked bitterly.

"What, why- why- what makes you say that?" Brienne could barely catch her tongue.

Brienne looked up now analyzing the fuming expression on the girl across from her. Sansa's face practically matched her hair, her eyebrows furrowed tightly and her arms crossed at her waist.. Brienne moved closer now joining Sansa by the bed.

"Why else would you wish to go to another girls' chamber at night?" Sansa was defensive.

"She's a friend, my love. Where is all this coming from?" Brienne questioned.

"When were you going to speak of your past relationship with Moira?" Sansa huffed.

"I-I- how did you know about that?" Brienne stuttered.

"Answer the question Brienne" Sansa said.

"I didn't know how. I didn't think it was important because you are the only woman I care for" Brienne tucked a piece of the girl's hair behind her ear.

"Did you love her?" Sansa whispered.

Brienne paused before responding. "Yes, for a time. But that was so long ago."

Sansa stood up, wishing to leave but Brienne grabbed her arm. She made Sansa look at her, so she could understand what was going on inside the girl's head. Sansa looked betrayed, truly hurt by the fact that Brienne kept this a secret from her.

"My love, please look at me" Brienne lifted her chin up. "Please sit, and I'll tell you everything"

Sansa and Brienne both sat down on the bed. Sansa curled her body, bringing her knees to her chest, securing it with her arms. Brienne took a deep breath before starting to open up.

"We met when we were very little, about six years old. My eldest brother was getting his first weapon, so father took him and I to see the blacksmith. We met there and were friends for a while. When we aged a bit, things changed. I found myself wanting to always be around her, thinking of her in ways men typically think of women. She kissed me as a joke once, and I think that's what set it off. I couldn't keep in my feelings anymore. When I told her she said she had liked me too, and that we would never marry anyone and stay together. That lasted for a while until my father caught on to what was happening. He saw us in the stables, kissing. He threatened to wed Rilley and Ily to the worst Lords he could find if I didn't stop seeing Moira and focus on preparing to inherit the castle. I complied for a while, but eventually I grew unhappy. That's when I decided to flea.I figured he couldn't ship both of the girls off because then there wouldn't be anyone to inherit the land. And when he shipped the other off, I'd planned on being a well trained knight by then. That way I could set out to find her and keep her safe." Brienne spoke the truth to Sansa.

"Bri, I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't think-" Sansa hugged her girlfriend.

"My father wasn't always an evil man. He used to be a kind man. The one who gave me my first sword. After our mother died he changed into a person that only cared about his titles" Brienne continued.

"But when I go to see Moira. It's just to apologize for breaking my promise and leaving in the manner that I did. To tell her that we can't be together because I've found the finest woman in all of Westeros. I love you, Sansa. Not her, not anymore, not like that."

A smile grew on Sansa's face while she wiped away a tear that had fallen. Brienne placed her hand on the girl's cheek bringing the girl in for a kiss. Sansa felt better knowing the truth about Moira and Brienne. She also felt bad for making Brienne bring up such a painful memory.

"My love, I hate to ask but, now that you're back in Tarth. What is to happen to your sisters, to you?" Sansa was afraid of the answer.

"He wishes for me to stay, and send you home. But I won't. I just need to figure out what to do with my sisters." Brienne paused.

"We'll take them with us when we return to Winterfell. That way they remain safe in your care." Sansa proposed.

"But then what of Tarth once he dies, I don't want us to lose our house." Brienne sounded stressed out.

"It won't. The girls can return after he dies. It shouldn't be long now." Sansa tried to help.

Brienne contemplated the idea, still feeling somewhat uneasy about the idea of taking the girls. A part of her wished her father would remarry and put a son in the new Lady of Tarth, that way they would all be relieved of this duty. Although the plan wasn't one hundred percent fool proof, it could work. She'd just have to make sure there was little time in the gap between her fathers death and their return. All of the men of Westeros were greedy bastards and if people saw that Tarth was now Lordless, they'd jump at the opportunity to snatch it.

Music from some other place on the island played loudly, now drifting into the room with the cool breeze from the window. Sansa rose to feet and began dancing around in circles. She laughed as Brienne watched her amusingly.

"Will you dance with me before you go and see your other lover?" Sansa poked fun at the woman.

"San, she's not-" Brienne tried to interject but was cut off by Sansa's foolery.

Sansa yanked Brienne by her arms so hard that she thought they'd come right out of their socks. Brienne now stands holding Sansa's hands as the girl begins to rock side to side. Eventually Sansa was able to get her lover to dance around the bedroom with her. Brienne and Sansa let out giggles that filled the hall, as Sansa hummed the wrong notes to the unfamiliar song. As the song began to conclude Sansa plopped down on the bed. Brienne panted out a soft goodbye now leaving to go see her friend like she promised. Sansa laid looking at the ceiling as her chest rose up and down in an attempt to catch her breath. That was when her brilliant idea struck. She decided that she would have a conversation with Brienne's father. Sansa figured with the right words she would get something from the man, Something that would help free the Tarth women of his obsession with legacies.Of course Brienne didn't know that Sansa was doing this, it was rather late in the evening and if she knew she'd be furious that the girl went to see him without her protectionl. Sansa walked across the corridor and into the meeting chambers. Lord Selwyn sat at the table with ink and a feather writing letters.

"Hello, Your Grace" Lord Selwyn rose to his feet to bow.

"Oh there's no need for such formalities Lord Selwyn. I'm a guest in your home" Sansa sat at the table with him.

"Is there something I can help you with dear." Lord Selwyn questioned.

"Actually, yes. I'm not sure how different the marriages in Tarth are done, but on the mainland the families usually cover the wedding fees. Being that both my mother and father are dead, you can see the slight problem with that" Sansa spoke nervously.

"Yes. I'm very sorry about that my dear. I can assure you, all of the fees will be covered by me" Lord Selwyn responded.

Sansa had plans to confront the man. To simply bluff and scare him into releasing the girls, until someone else came into the meeting chambers.

"My lord, I think someone knows." He stopped speaking just as he saw Sansa.

Lord Selwyn, and the knight looked back and forth at each other. Lord Selwyns anger filled his blood stream, Sansa could feel the heat coming off him. Sansa knew she had just overheard something she shouldn't have, which made her nervous to exit the room. Her knight was no longer with her which meant she wasn't exactly safe. Lord Selwyn could slain her right here and Brienne wouldn't be able to do a thing.

"Lord Selwyn, would you mind sending your knight out. His interruption is very bothersome, I wished to speak to you more" Sansa tried to pretend as if she wasn't fazed by what the man said.

"Yes, my apologies. Please exit Ser Lonnie" He shooed him out.

Lord Selwyn walked with the knight to the door. Slipping a small piece of paper into the man's pocket. Sansa knew that if she wanted to uncover what was happening, she would need to be following that man now. The door closed behind them and Sansa could feel that whatever it was he was hiding, was inches away from being buried forever.

"You were saying dear..." He continued.

"I also wanted to talk to you about heirs. I know with us being two women and all you are probably concerned for your legacy. Although we will never have children of both our blood, there are other things we will discuss doing. I assure you, there will be an heir" Sansa made up anything.

She wanted to test the man's level of tolerance. She knew the truth about his disgust for their relationship, but it didn't faze her. Sansa had survived too much to be influenced by the opinions of outsiders for any longer. Plus being with Brienne can't be wrong, something that felt that good, can't be bad for anyone.

"My dear Sansa. I don't want you to worry your pretty little head about me. I'm just glad my daughter is finally happy, and I can't lie on being a little more pleased with the fact that she is getting married to someone of very high status." Lord Selwyn smiled.

Sansa stood immediately, excusing herself from the meeting chambers with Lord Selwyn. As he closed the door behind her, her head went on a swivel looking for the man dressed with bronze and silver armor. The man was nowhere in sight, but there were some pretty recent tracks left in the sand. She recognized the shape of that heavy metallic shoe, because Brienne wore them all the time. She tipped toed across the island slowly. The palm trees and sand mixed through the air the more she moved. Sansa practically sprinted through the courtyard, trying her best not to be seen until she laid eyes on the knight. It was a miracle she caught up to the man.

He approached a small home, entering without knocking. The lights came on inside the home. Sansa felt puzzled by the fact that the knight was sent to a random house. She figured she'd wait until he exited the home before she approached it. The man had just seen her in the chambers with his lord.

"A queen should not be out snooping" Brienne startled the redhead and snuck up behind her.

Sansa turned around, hitting her girlfriend on the chest. Brienne laughed at her girl's attempt to hurt her, she barely even left a bruise.

"You hit like a lady, '' Brienne jokes. "What are you doing out here, my love? It actually gets quite chilly in Tarth during winter nights''

"Okay, don't get angry." Sansa confessed. Brienne raised an eyebrow at the smaller redhead woman.

"I went to go see your father-" Sansa started but Brienne cut her off.

"Sansa! Don't go see him without me again, he's dangerous" Brienne warned her.

"Bri, I'm-" Sansa tried to defend herself.

"No. And I don't care if you're my queen. I need you to listen to me. Don't do that again" Brienne barked.

Sansa paused for a moment, processing how to respond. Her girlfriend was always really nice, she never ever gave Sansa orders, always suggestions. She also couldn't help but feel slightly aroused by her girlfriend barking orders. Although the girl had been through a lot, the idea of being dominated by a masculine partner was something her younger self wished for. Being protected by someone who would literally kill or be killed for you, can make someone want to drop their pants.

"Okay," Sansa submitted.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to bark orders at you. I just want to protect you, my love" Brienne admitted.

"I know. That's why I love you" Sansa kissed her cheek.

"As you were, about my father?" Brienne inquired.

"We were talking about the wedding fees and heirs when a knight came in. He came in saying that he thinks someone knows. I'm not sure what he was talking about but I rushed out of there and followed him here" Sansa informed her lover.

Just as Brienne was going to ask another question, the knight came out of the house. The lights remained on as he walked away, presumably back to the castle. Sansa and Brienne's eyes connected briefly before they crept up on the house. A young woman and a little boy played in the living room. The young woman had dark brown hair, but the boy was as light as Brienne's. He couldn't have had more than ten years of age.

"I wonder what they were doing here." Sansa stated.

"I'll find out," Brienne said, backing away from the window.

Chapter Text

As Brienne's eyes fluttered open the next morning, she noticed this was the first morning in a while she didn't wake with Sansa's fiery red hair in her mouth. The girl must've risen this morning without alerting the big blonde who slept like an animal in hibernation. Brienne looked around the room and spotted her beautiful redhead sitting by the window of their private sleeping chambers sewing a new outfit. Ily made sure she had new bright vibrant colors with many different patterned materials to try out on her new dress. The girls made Sansa promise to sew the two of them their very own dress, they loved everything she wore and wanted something just like it. The sun didn't burn quite as bright in the mainlands as it did on the idle. Which explains why everyone here held some sort of reddish undertones in their complexion. Brienne laid in the same position for a little while longer, watching as Sansa's nimble fingers worked to construct something elegant.

She sat silently, in complete amusement as she saw the tip of Sansa's bright pink tongue stick out the side of her mouth. Her eyebrows furrowed and she squinted her eyes and brought the material closer to her face. She threaded the needle through the small area repeatedly until the pattern she started finally came together. Her muscles relaxed and her face softened as she sat back against the wall, sewing a much simpler part of the dress again. The girl's eyes wandered aimlessly around the room, still adjusting to how bright and radiant things were in the south. Their castle walls weren't grey, but instead a sandy brown color. In almost every room sat a beautifully decorated vase filled with even more beautiful flowers ranging in every color from the rainbow. The red and blue squares of the sigil were painted onto the wall before a very skilled artist came in and painted the sun and moon in yellows and whites. Even their chars were crafted with dyed fabrics. Finally, Sansa's gaze fell upon Brienne, who continued to watch Sansa as if she were some rare majestic creature.

"The sun is up my love" Sansa spoke softly.

"Come back to bed, it's too early to be sewing" Brienne stretched with her legs now dandling over the bed frame.

"No, no, no. Get up" Sansa placed her dress down onto the windowsill before moving to Brienne's bedside yanking the covers back.

Brienne's undergarments were exposed to the warm air here on the island. She rolled out of the bed and onto her feet. She stood the usual amount of inches of Sansa with her eyes shut and her lips still sealed for a moment. Then she wrapped her hand around the back of the girl's neck. A chill sent down Sansa's spine as she felt Brienne's large rugged hand caress the thin hairs on her neck before pulling her forward slightly, and placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Fine" Brienne grumbled.

Sansa waited for her lover to get dressed before heading down to dine with her family for breakfast. Brienne slipped into her long sleeved blue shirt, and tan pants before lacing up her boots. Sansa stepped out of their sleeping chambers in another black and grey dress, one that suggested the girl would be engulfed in her own body heat soon enough Brienne couldn't muster up the courage to influence her girlfriend to at least try and blend in a bit more. No one wore black here, except Sansa.

"My love, maybe we should head down to the stalls. Get you something a bit more . . . colorful?" Brienne suggested.

"What, you don't like my dress?" Sansa looked down at her outfit.

"I do. I do. It's just very . . . dark. It's a very northern color" Brienne tried to be polite.

"Well, as long as you're buying it." She shrugged, " Maybe I'll make one for myself!"

The two exited their chambers and headed into the great family dining hall. Along the side walls of the hall, sat paintings of blonde haired men. Sansa's eyes followed each and every portrait until the very last one, Lord Selwyn Tarth. Some of the men held more resemblance to each other than others, but the whitish blonde hue of the Tarth hair remained strong in the family's bloodline. Riley was the only Tarth Sansa met who didn't have hair that resembled the mane of a white horse. They were the last two to join the family, as they had been for the past few days. Sansa's stomach growled loudly as her nose caught a whiff of the freshly made pastries and the delicious hand picked fruits paired with them. As both women found their seats at the table in the hall, they took notice of the knight from the previous night. He stood in a stiff militant position, sweating like a stuck pig in his chainmail armor by the door with his arms behind his back. Brienne and Sansa had devised a plan to corner him later, and question what business he had in the home of a commander last night.

"Good morrow ladies" Lord Selwyn kept up the kind performance for Sansa.

"Good morrow, Lord Selwyn, Girls" Sansa smiled, joining the girls who adored her. "Bri is taking us to the shops today"

Ily and Riley turned to Brienne in excitement. The blonde gave Sansa an annoyed look before rolling her eyes and slipping a piece of fruit into her mouth. Sansa laughed dryly at how bitter Brienne could be and knowing she would do anything for them anyways, Sansa paid her no attention. They sat around the table picking at the fruits and vegetables served in silence. Everyone must've been just as hungry as the Queen seeing that their mouths were too busy chewing to make conversation. After their meal, Lord Selwyn took his younger daughters out to the courtyard to show them something While Brienne and Sansa followed the knight into an area they could corner and question him without being seen. They followed behind him stealthy as he moved through the castle. Brienne noticed one of the chamber doors to the right was already open and seized their opportunity to attack.
She moved towards the man swiftly before grabbing him by his arm and tossing him into the vacant room. Sansa followed behind them closely. She stopped to look down the hall in both directions to make sure no one was watching them, then she closed the door.

She turned her attention to the man who scrambled backwards against the stone floor as Brienne's figure casted a shadow over him. He looked up at her with wide distressed eyes. The words he managed to get out in a panic barely made sense. Sansa was truly fascinated by the way the woman's presence put such fear in others.

"What the-" He sounded flustered. "What is going on!"

"Yesterday after the sunset you went to a house in the mainland of the island. What was your business there?" Brienne kneeled down in front of the cowering boy, now removing his helmet.

"They're my family!" He lied.

"Liar. If they were your family, you would have laid your head there at night." Brienne lifted up his helmet as a threat. "Lie to me again and I'll skin you like a stag"

"Okay, okay. There's a little boy who lives there. Hes- he's- he's your fathers bastard" The knight confessed.

Brienne and Sansa both let out audible gasps before turning to face each other with similar expressions. Brienne closed her eyes, now taking a moment to think and process the information from the knight. High lords everywhere had bastards, why was this boy such a big secret?

"Why were you going to see him, then?" Brienne asked.

Sansa stood up quietly now moving to the door to crack it open slightly. She looked through the small crack of the door in silence, looking around for a few moments while also listening for footsteps. No one was there. She shut the door gently, not wanting to make any noise that would suggest someone was inside. She watched nervously as Brienne questioned the man trembling at the confrontation. Sansa didn't want Brienne to kill him or to hurt him but she knew things with her father were tricky, and things with Brienne tended to escalate quickly.

"I've been taking care of him for years. Lord Selwyn didn't want anyone finding out about him. He thought it'd be a stain on his image as a Godly man." The knight confessed.

"Bri" Sansa interrupted.

Brienne helped the man back on his feet before handing him his helmet. She allowed for the man to leave now, holding the door open for him. Like a spotted kitchenrat, he scurried down the hall, fleeing to crawl back into whatever grimy hole he came from. The two moved hastily back to their private chambers so they could openly discuss the words of the knight. As always Brienne held the door open for Sansa who slipped between the gap underneath Brienne's arm and the door frame. She swiftly moved behind the redhead after securing the door to their enclosure.

"Bri. Think about it. That little boy could be the heir to Tarth. It doesn't have to be you or Ilizabeth or RiIley anymore" Sansa told her.

"Bastards can't be lords." Brienne turned the idea down immediately.

"Not true, not anymore, at least. Remember what Daenerys and Bran did for Gendry. And Stannis for Jon?" Sansa replied. "They're trying to eradicate the stigma behind bastards, now. I'm sure if we exposed the boy for who he truly is, your father would be forced to legitimize him being that he is his only son."

A slightly evil grin grew on Brienne's face as her eyes doubled in size. They found their way out of Tarth. As Sansa said, all they needed to do was expose the boy for who he really was, and all three of the girls would be safe from their fathers tyranny. But they knew they had to be strategic, make sure this secret wasn't unveiled until they decided it was time. There was no sense in drawing out the length of this conversation. The plan was simple. Wait for the right moment to confront Lord Selwyn and force him to legitimize the boy. Besides, Brienne did promise to take her three favorite girls in the shops of the mainland to buy new gowns. Brienne held the door open once more before bowing towards Sansa as they exited the room. Rilley and Ily were lying in the vibrant green grass of the courtyard waiting for the two women, talking and giggling in secret. As the two women stepped out into the sun, the powerful stench of salt filled their noses. Sansa's eyes squinted and her pupils dilated as she adjusted to the blazing brightness of the sun. Brienne guided them into the shade where her sisters now noticed their presence.

"Finally, what's taken you so long?" Rilley questioned raising a blonde brow. "Did someone recently have their undergarments at their ankles?"

The other three girls couldn't help but laugh at Rilleys inappropriate comments. Brienne's tanless face turned pinkish out of embarrassment. The girls turned to their bellies before hopping back up on their feet. They walked through the courtyard, down the endless flight of stairs, and down into the merchant corridors along the shore. A sea of people filled the center of the alley where the stalls were. They moved past each other swiftly while occasionally bumping into one another. Everyone in Tarth was either dressed in sleeveless tunics or sleeveless gowns. Still most were drenched in sweat as they tried their best to move through the shade casted by the large tropical trees and the roofing of their houses along the hills. They approached a stall with colorful gowns set on display. A small dark toned elderly woman sat in a creaky old wooden chair, smiling as the four women approached her stand. She rose to her feet briefly to formally greet the highborns in her presence before slipping back into the comfort of her chair.

"Ooh, I like this one." Rilley picked up a long royal blue gown. She held the dress up to Ily and Sansa who frowned at the sight of it.

"What, I think it looked rather nice" Rilley pretended to be offended.

"I-I apologize Rilley. I just know I can make you something much more flattering" Sansa whispered so she wouldn't insult the merchant.

"I'm holding you to it" Rilley put the dress down and continued to look.

Brienne stood as a figure in the background while the other three women combed through the selection of gowns. The chatter of the city faded into white noise as Brienne's eyes scanned her home. They landed on three young boys. She watched as their mouths opened in laughter and wielded their wooden swords at each other clearly playing pretend knight. Their faint muffled laughter allowed for a memory to come to the forefront of Brienne's mind. One of the boys somewhat resembled her at that age, small, blonde, and full of energy. She recalled a time where she too ran through this alley with a wooden stick in hand, only she was chasing after one of the goats she accidentally set free during training.

Brienne was too consumed with the memories being back here brought to realize Sansa and the girls purchased three gowns and already spotted something else that peaked their interest. They hovered over a new table, this one manned by a man. Sansa gasped in awe of all the different patterns she could use to embroider a new gown. The one that really caught her eye was the sapphire blue, it looked just like their beautiful oceans. Sansa adored the color, especially because it resembled the eyes of the Tarths. After purchasing a few different wheels of fabric, her attention wandered off beside the table. A little boy began to approach her with a wooden bear in his left hand.

"You're not from Tarth?" He spoke in awe of the woman with pale skin.

"No I am not." Sansa smiled now, kneeling to meet the boy at his height.

"Where are you from?" He inquired further. His small beady eyes now glanced at the wolf crown that sat perfectly on Sansa's head.

"I am Queen Sansa Stark of House Winterfell. Have you ever heard of it?" She replied.

"My old nan says she's been to Winterfell once. She says white dust falls from the sky there, is it true?" He asked innocently.

"Yes, but it's not dust. It's something called snow." She corrected himYou're a very clever young boy"

Brienne walked behind Sansa admiring the girl with the young boy. She placed a handful of gold coins in his hand just before the boy's mother called for him. He waved goodbye to Sansa and Brienne before disappearing into the crowd of people. They continued down the alley stopping at practically every stall. By the end of the day everyone but Sansa's feet felt as if they were bleeding. The redhead was overly excited to get back to their chambers and continue the outfits she had started this morning. Now that she had acquired new materials, a daring new idea for fashion struck her mind. They climbed back up their stairs using up whatever little energy they had left before parting ways in the courtyard. Sansa brought her things back to her chambers while Brienne went with her sisters. After putting away their things they found themselves traveling back down the stairs to the shore. The cool of the water, the breeze formed from the current, the taste of salt in the air, the sound of the waves colliding with one another. These were the things Brienne missed about being here. It was what everyone loved about being from the island.

As calming as the starry night resting over the heads of the three women sitting in the sand was Brienne brought them here to talk. After finally having a mind idle enough to think about Lord Selwyn and their half brother, Brienne drew the conclusion that the girls should still come with her. She feared the words her father threatened her with just before she left eight years ago. She wanted to be sure her sister was ready to flee Tarth by tonight, just in case their plan went south. Which also meant it was time to tell them everything she knew.

She watched in a painful bittersweet amusement as Ilizabeth and Rilley collected the fabric by their thighs and hoisted their gowns above their upwards to avoid getting their gowns soaked by the salt water. Brienne was glad she no longer had to worry and didn't have to worry about things like that. The woman never particularly cared for highborn gowns. She fought hard against her parents whenever they forced her into dresses as a child. It agitated her even more when they grew angry with her for ruining them every time she stepped beyond the castle walls. Eventually they realized trying to tame the wild young Brienne was useless and allowed the girl to dress in whatever she wanted. She moved closer to the water, still observing her sisters silently.

"You're awfully quiet" Ily turned to face Brienne.

"Yeah, what's gotten into you Bri?" Rilley added.

"I have to tell you something" Brienne spoke nerves into the bones of her sisters. "We have a brother, Father's been keeping him secret but Sansa and I cornered one of fathers knights, he confessed the truth"

"Okay so father has a bastard . . . so do half the lords of Westeros." Ily rolled her eyes.

"King Brandon Stark has removed the laws that prohibit bastards from inheriting land, titles, and their family name. Which means by order of the King, that little boy is the heir to Tarth, not us" Brienne explained.

"Does that mean we get to stay?" Rilley perked up.

"No, I don't trust Father. I want you guys to accompany us back to Winterfell." Brienne insisted.

The girls looked at each other, exchanging looks that Brienne couldn't quite interpret. She knew her sisters would be sad to go, but she assumed they would understand why it was necessary. She couldn't understand why Rilley's expression began to grow so angered and worried.

"Brienne, if Father has a son to inherit the land and title. Why in the seven hells would we need to flee?" Rilley argues with her sister.

"He threatened to marry you two off to awful lords if I didn't accept my position.If we expose Fathers bastard for who he truly is, he would be even more inclined to do so." Brienne continued to explain to her sister.

The girls heads hung low, they had no idea Brienne was being held to such circumstances. They could never understand why Brienne's father was so insistent on her being the next heir. Especially being that he wound up having another son anyways. Wouldn't a man in his position be thrilled that he had a boy to continue their family legacy? Any other lord would act rather quickly to legitimize a bastard before having one of their daughters inherit the land. Simply because the women of Westeros didn't get to keep their family name, and that would lead to the demise of the Tarth name at Castle Evenfell Hall. But something about Lord Selwyn Tarth's daughters was special. They weren't your average women, they were much stronger, and he was very much aware of that. But Brienne was the only one who seized the opportunity to be something apart from a pretty highborn lady waiting to be married off. Whereas her sisters, they adored that life. For the most part, they wanted to be like other ladies, they wanted to marry wonderful lords, have babies, and stand by their lord as the head lady of their house. But Brienne, she wanted to be in charge of her own life, her own decisions, her own legacy.

"But what about Jon, he- I- I love him. I won't leave him" Rilley stood her ground.

"Rilley, we don't have time for silly love. Father will ship you off!" Brienne began getting angry.

"Not if I marry him." She crossed her arms.

"Father will have him exiled, Riley. Or even worse, he'll send someone to kill him. The boy will vanish into nothing. And no one mourns a blacksmith's boy." Brienne tried to reason with her

"How could you say something like that?" Rilley stormed off the beach.

Brienne and Ilizabeth watched as their sister fled back up the rocks leading to the stairwell of the castle. Brienne squatted down against the sand and rocks. She placed a hand into the ocean now sending a wave of shock shot through her body as it adjusted to its cold temperature. Her eyes shut naturally as she allowed for the feel and sound of the water crashing against her finger tips to soothe her. All that time in the mainland caused her to forget how calming the ocean was for her.

"If it were Sansa, would be able to leave her behind so easily?" Ily tried to get Brienne to see her sister's side. "I don't want to leave either Bri, but I understand if I have to"

Ilizabeth left her sister alone with her thoughts to which Brienne found herself sitting against the sand for quite some time. Everytime the waves crashed she grew more and more frustrated at her current situation. She was tired of fearing the hand of her father. Tired of carrying the guilt she felt for leaving her sisters with him. Exploring the mainland of Westeros was such a freeing experience for her. Even if she was attacked by a bear, almost sexually assaulted, and seconds away from being killed by wight walkers. Without all of those hardships she wouldn't have been able to reap the glory of overcoming all those things. A copious amount of greatness came in the absence of Lord Selwyn Tarth. But she decided she was done running from him. If Brienne was truly as strong as everyone thought she was, handling her dear old father should be as easy as a tavern whore.

Chapter Text

Brienne's whitish-blonde hair flowed through the breeze whe created as she stormed through the halls of the castle in search of her father. She held the pommel of her sword with her right hand, tightening the already deathly grip she had on it. Her pale skin was tinted red, her eyebrows scrunched together, and her breath resembling a wolfs. It seemed that her time spent in the North with Queen Sansa Stark was beginning to rub off on her. Brienne shoved past the guard outside of her fathers meeting chambers before kicking the doors open. Her eyes scanned the room before finally settling in on the target. The woman was seeing red. She drew her sword completely, now q at standing over her father with her freshly nl p. sharpened blade pressed up against his throat. His blue eyes connected with hers in a slow stiff manner, the man didn't say a word.

"I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen or I swear I will cut you down faster than I did the Hound" Brienne gritted through her teeth.

Her father nodded in agreement.

"That little boy, our brother that you keep hidden in some random shack on the isle. He is going to start living here, as a Tarth. Send a raven to King's Landing and request he be legitimized by order of King Brandon. He will be your successor as Lord of Evenfall, and you are going to love and raise him better than you did the five of us combined. As for Rilley and Ilizabeth, they are going to do as they please. Stay here, come to Winterfell with Sansa and I, marry a blacksmith, or not marry at all. And you . . ." She trailed off now pressing the blade against his neck.

Three small streams of blood began to drip down his neck as he winced in pain. Brienne watched as he struggled to fight the panic. But she could see it forming in his eyes and they turned to a dark stormy shade of blue.

"Or what?" Lord Selwyn bluffled

Brienne grinned before pulling her sword away from his neck. She acted as if she was going to put it away before suddenly lifting it into the air. She grunted as she swung down with all her might, striking the table her father sat at. She struck it so hard that a vibrating jolt shook back up the sword and stung her hands. The table let out a long eerie creek before splitting in half and collapsing to the floor. Lord Selwyn's head shot in the direction of the broken table. He noticed a small pool of red staining the broken pieces of wood that rest on the floor. That's when his gaze turned to his hand. He lifted up his hand, staring blankly at the empty space where his fingers used to be. Blood gushed from the missing limbs then he began to scream. Brienne wanted to cut off his entire hand, but she figured a few fingers would be enough for now. His screams grew louder now, alerting the knight outside of the room. He came in with his sword drawn, and Brienne faced him ready to fight back.

"Ser Lonnie, it's alright. I'm fine" Lord Selwyn panicked while intervening.

"Lord Tarth, you're bleeding. I'll fetch the Maester" Ser Lonnie exclaimed before leaving the room.

"Looks as if you've only got a few minutes to decide how you wish to proceed. You're going to comply, and if I find that after I leave you've gone back on it. I'll . . . Well I'll have plenty of time to think of all the horrid things I'll do to you on my journey back" Brienne threatened him.

"Okay, okay. Fine. But the boy is a bastard, he can't be-" Lord Selwyn finally gave in.

"Send the raven to King Brandon Stark like I told you to. He will do as I've said." Brienne informed Lord Selwyn.

The Maester and Ser Lonnie flooded the room in quite a hurry. They both tried their best not to stare at Brienne in wonder of what happened. She placed her slightly bloody sword back into its sheath before backing out into the hall. Adrenaline got her through the halls of the castle quickly as she headed back to private chambers where Sansa remained. She smiled through the breeze that brushed against her face as she sped through the castle. She was like a bird, like she was flying above the island, free from the constraints of man. After failing to protect so many people she swore to give her life for, Brienne was just starting to feel hopeless when she finally found Sansa fleeing in the woods. Now she was able to save her sisters and her family name, all thanks to the craft of swordsmanship. Brienne was finally aware of just how much she could actually do. She entered the bedroom without knocking, not that she had to but just as a fair warning to Sansa.

One could only imagine the level of shock in the room being that Brienne had just walked in on a very naked Sansa. The footsteps of one of the handmaidens in the washroom led Brienne to believe that her lover was getting ready for her bath. Sansa quickly slipped back into her robe, embarrassed by some of the scars Ramsay had left on her body. Although Sansa knew Brienne wasn't aware of the real reason behind the shame she felt in revealing her naked body to her, the redhead still worried about what things would be like when the time became more intimate finally arrived.

"My apologies, Your Grace. I should have knocked" Brienne covered her eyes.

"It's okay, my love." Sansa rushed over to Brienne and kissed her cheek. "I was just getting ready for a bath."

Sansa took a closer look at the tall woman, her eyes squinted as her hand reached out to touch the left side of Brienne's face. Sansa wiped her thumb across the girl's cheek, right under her eye. A puzzled look formed on her face as she stared at the blood stain in between the grooves of her finger tips. She looked back to Brienne, now taking note of the way she breathed heavily, and how her eyes darted around the room restlessly.

"Is this blood?" Sansa questioned.

"Yes. I had a talk with my father" Brienne responded simply while beginning to dissemble her weapon belt.

"A talk? You said this was blood" Sansa repeated in hopes that Brienne would realize how drastic the difference was.

"Aye, his blood" Brienne responded simply once again.

"Brienne, what happened?" Sansa cupped Brienne's face, forcing her to make eye contact.

"We're leaving Tarth first thing in the morning. Ily and Rilley can stay if they'd like. Our father won't feel inclined to touch a single hair on their heads" A mischievous grin grew spread across her lips.

"I'm glad you figured it out, my love. I just hope you didn't do anything too extreme" Sansa's nerves settled slightly.

"I don't think losing a few fingers is too extreme," Brienne remarked.

Sansa was taken aback at how cold her lover was right now. Being back in Tarth was changing Brienne, or maybe she's returning to the person she truly is. Sansa knew it was silly to overthink this decision of hers, Brienne had killed people before. And to Sansa, losing a few fingers was much better than dying. Sansa nodded before heading into the washroom. Brienne continued to undress and prepare herself for bed. The handmaiden stepped out from the washroom to retrieve something from the cart she wheeled in here when Brienne was hit with an interesting idea.

"I'm sorry. I'm usually better with names, yours was . . ." Brienne trailed off.

"I'm Ema, My Lady" She responded politely.

"Ema, yes. Would you mind returning tomorrow morning, I can take care of Queen Sansa for the rest of the night." Brienne excused her politely.

Brienne rose from the bed and began shifting through the cart to retrieve the things she would need for the Queens bath. Brienne contemplated simply going in there and jumping in the tub with her lover. But she figured the two of them being completely naked in the tub would not only be indecent, but would inevitably lead to them performing indecent acts on one another before they were wed.

"Ema, hurry please! The water is starting to chilll" Sansa shouted from the washroom.

"I asked Ema to leave," Brienne responded as she entered the room.

Sansa jerked forward, her back no longer pressed up against the cool feeling of the porcelain tub. She turned to look at Brienne while covering her bare breasts with her arms.

"Why? I wasn't finished" Sansa questioned.

"I was hoping you'd let me finish washing you off." Brienne spoke shyly.

Sansa looked up at her love with an eyebrow raised. She was intrigued by the proposition, and she surely enjoyed how sexual it sounded. A part of her hoped Brienne would hop in the tub right then, but she too didn't want to compromise the consummation of their marriage.

"Alright" Sansa replied while resting her back against the tub once again.

Brienne grabbed the wooden stool that sat near the door to the washroom. The stool clanked against the stone floor of the castle as she placed it near the tub. Brienne grabbed the cloth they used to wipe down the lords and ladies skin. Her eyes shifted back towards Sansa, and for the first time ever she truly got to see her lover. She couldn't help but stare, the girl was already beautiful when clothed, but something about her being in this tub did something to Brienne.

"Are you going to wash me, or are you just going to stare?" Sansa inquired.

"My apologies, Your Grace" Brienne snapped out of it as she pressed the cloth against the arm of her Queen.

They sat in silence for quite a while. Only the sound of droplets splashing against the tub full of water filled the room. Although the two didn't have much to say at this moment, it was unlike any other moment they shared. Their ability to exist in the same space without saying a word brought such a sense of comfort to each other.

"Your Grace?" Brienne broke the silence.

"My name is Sansa" Sansa corrected her for the hundredth time.

"Do any of these scars still hurt?" Brienne traced her finger over the healed bump of a scar on Sansa's back.

"Truthfully, they all stopped hurting the day you rescued me." Sansa looked at Brienne with soft eyes.

Brienne's heart practically melted as those words fell from Sansa's mouth. Sansa began to lift herself from the tub, she cupped Brienne's face and pulled her into a very passionate kiss. Brienne's hands wrapped around the naked girl's waist as she lifted her out of the tub. The kiss, now far from innocent, lasted as long as the last winter in the North. Brienne carried Sansa back into their sleeping chambers, ignoring the fact that both her clothes and their bedsheets were wet. She gently placed her down on the bed, hovering over her and the urge to further their kiss.

"You make it very hard for me to resist, Sansa," Brienne huffed as they broke their kiss.

"Maybe I no longer wish for you to resist me" Sansa responded playfully.

The two would normally sit and go back and forth like this for a while. They've become pretty good at resisting temptation. But being that Sansa didn't have a stitch of clothing on, they were playing a dangerous game and they knew it. It took several minutes of repeating them both telling themselves that they wouldn't do this just to get them to separate. Sansa rolled to her side, now removing herself from the top of Brienne. She rose from the bed and began dressing herself in her night garments. She blew out the candles that lit up their sleeping chamber before climbing back in bed and cuddling up with her still turned on partner.

The next morning Brienne and Sansa woke rather early. Brienne had ordered the handmaidens to help them collect their things, and she also alerted the knights to ready their ship. They roamed the island once more before preparing to set sail, at Sansa's request of course. Rilley, and Moira were the only two who showed up to see them off. Brienne and Sansa wondered where Ilizabeth was but knew they didn't have time to go looking for her. The Queen of the North had been gone for far too long.

"I'm going to miss you, Bri" Rilley hugged her big sister.

"I'll be sure to write you, I'll miss you too." Brienne tried not to cry.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Rilley. I hope we can see each other again soon" Sansa pulled the girl into a tight hug.

"Goodbye Brienne" Moira hugged Brienne too.

Brienne couldn't help but make awkward eye contact with Sansa. Rilley chuckled at the sight of the two.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace" Moira bowed before Sansa.

"Likewise" Sansa nodded with a smile.

Just as the two were about to turn and board the boat. Ily, Lord Selwyn and their little brother came running from alongside the beach. A few knights followed behind them, carrying wooden chests. Brienne stepped down from the loading dock, curious to hear what they had to say.

"I've decided I'm coming with you" Ilizabeth panted, barely able to get the words out"I'm going to Winterfell"

Ilizabeth turned to her younger sister, pulling her into a big tight hug. A part of Ily felt guilty leaving her alone, but she wished to stay, and Ily wanted to venture out from the island. Tarth would always be her home, and maybe one day she'd return. But for now, her path was leading her North. Ily and the knights stepped onto the ship briefly to place her things down before returning to the sand.

"Before you went, I just wanted to introduce you to your brother Sibill. Sibill these are your sisters, Brienne, Ilizabeth, and Rilley." Lord Selwyn spoke.

The girls spoke to the little boy who shied away from the spotlight.

"I can already tell you're going to make a great Lord one day" Brienne kneeled down to interact with the boy.

His bright blonde hair, and thin pointy nose reminded her of their older brothers. Ilizabeth and Brienne remember them better than Rilley does, but they could all see the resemblance. Brienne bid farewell to her family once more before boarding the ship back to Winterfell.

Chapter Text

When Sansa, Brienne and Ilizabeth arrived back in the North at Widow's Watch the snow seemed to have lightened up a bit. Instead of the horses legs being buried in the snow, it was really only a few inches about their hooves. The lack of snow brought their travel time back down. Sansa still hadn't gotten fully used to being accompanied by so many people. The amount of knights she acquired in Winterfell without having to ask was much bigger than the Queen anticipated. Despite leaving more than half of the knights in Winterfell, she still felt overwhelmed by the amount of men surrounding her. Now that Sansa was back in Winterfell she focused her mind on the many bullet points of her agenda. She wanted her realm to be united and organized, and her being in the south for several weeks couldn't have taken any steps towards that goal

The gates of Winterfell opened for their horses and carriage as soon as they arrived. The people gathered to welcome the Queen back home and show respect. Brienne stepped out of the carriage first, holding a hand out for the Queen as she stepped down next. Everyone was kneeling, waiting for Sansa to dismiss them.

"I'm very glad to be back in Winterfell" Sansa spoke, releasing everyone from their hold.

The crowd rose to their feet and welcomed the Queen home with many kind words and gestures. By the time Ily stepped out of the carriage, her look caught many people's attention. It was very easy to tell when someone wasn't from the North, the excess tan in their complexion made her stick out like a sore thumb. Ilizabeth's eyes roamed everywhere as if she was tracking down a fly to swat. Everything about Winterfell was so different from what she was used to. The layout of the land, the castle walls, the clothing, even the smell of the air was different. Her gaze fell to the ground excitedly as she reached her hand out to touch snow for the very first time.She bent down to swipe her hand across the fluffy white substance, shocked at how soft it was. A few moments later she began to feel a painful sting in her fingers.

Brienne and Sansa decided to take Ily inside the Castle to find her some food and warmth while they settled back in. Sansa ordered one of her handmaidens to escort Ily to the room she would be staying in. She also instructed the handmaiden to show the southern girl around the castle once she was settled in. She wanted Ilizabeth to know everything and see everything she desired in Winterfell. Brienne was so hungry she could eat her own horse, and Sansa was feeling quite peckish herself. They found themselves in the Queen's private dining quarters, sitting at the table waiting for the servant to bring something short of a feast.

"Here we are, Your Grace. All of your favorites. Suckling pig, fruits and vegetables, and last but not least lemon cakes" One handmaiden spoke while placing the trays onto the table.

"My absolute favorite" Sansa smiled widely before slipping a cake into her mouth.

"You'll spoil your meal by eating sweets first" Brienne chuckled at the girl.

"Have you ever had one?" Sansa ignored her lover's suggestions. Brienne shook her head no.

"Try it. It's absolutely delicious" Sansa picked up another cake.

She slipped the small yellow pastry into Brienne's mouth, waiting to see her reaction. Brienne's face dried up like a prune, she didn't enjoy that one bit.

"You don't like it?" Sansa sounded surprised.

"It's a little too... tart for my liking, my love." Brienne spoke truthfully.

"You are too tart" Sansa joked.

Brienne laughed dryly at how silly Sansa could be sometimes. Just as she opened her mouth to respond, the two were interrupted by a knight's knock at the door. Sansa wiped her mouth of white cream and sat at the side of her bottom lip before allowing for the man to enter. He announced that someone was waiting outside to see them when suddenly Podrick burst through the small gap of the door.

"Pod" Sansa laughed at the young man.

"It's good to see you, Your Grace" Pod bowed.

"Get over here!" She scoffed, pulling the boy into a hug.

Brienne also gave Podrick a hug, a level of affection the two often didn't share. But he was a sight for sore eyes. There was another knock at the door, only this time it was Ilizabeth. She must've finished her tour of Winterfell just in time because there was still plenty of food to pick over.

"Who's this?" Podrick pointed. Brienne couldn't help but scoff at how ill mannered Podrick was after his time with her.

"Podrick. This is my sister Lady Ilizabeth Tarth. Ily this is Podrick Payne of Silverhill, my old squire and . . . friend" Brienne introduced the two.

Ily and Podrick stopped dead in their tracks, catching each other's eyes. Podricks dark maple eyes and Ilizabeths deep sapphire blue ones were locked in. Podrick's cheeky grin was plastered on his face like this every-time he met a cute girl. Brienne and Sansa exchanged a look too, Sansa's seemed a bit more amused than Brienne but, that didn't need much explanation.

"It's very nice to meet you M'lady" Podrick took the Lady's hand to kiss before bowing.

"Likewise" Ily smiled shyly.

"Alright. Ily, Pod. Sit and have something to eat" Brienne rolled her eyes at the two.

Sansa couldn't help but feel slightly jealous of her Brienne having her sister back. Sansa had spent so many years apart from her siblings and just when they were reunited they went off to do their own things. She was aware of the fact that this is just what happens when you get older, but she couldn't shake the feeling of thinking she was robbed of a few years with her family. What she'd give to have dinner with her siblings and parents once more.

"Pardon me," Sansa apologized while wiping the solo tear that managed to slip from her eye. She excused herself from the table.

Brienne noticed something was off with Sansa, so she too excused herself from the table. She followed after Sansa who fled to her sleeping chambers. The decor of the room caused Sansa to burst into tears, it reminded her too much of her parents. Brienne wasn't exactly sure as to why her love was crying but she figured that wasn't most important right now.

"It's okay, my love. There's no need to cry" Brienne hugged Sansa tightly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so emotional" Sansa cried out. "I just- I wish my family was still here"

A flashback on Lady Catelyn and Brienne came to the blonde's mind. She vowed to protect Lady Catelyn, and although Lady Cat was the one who sent her off, she still felt guilty. Especially being that she courted her daughter, not being around to protect her from Walder Frey and Roose Bolton.

"I wish there was more I could have done to save your mother, you must know that my love" Brienne replied.

"Oh Bri. I know." Sansa kissed her gentle giant on the cheek. "I know"

"Maybe we can still find Jon. Convince him to stay here in Winterfell" Brienne tried to cheer up her girlfriend.

"It's alright. Thank you my love. You're truly the most gracious knight in all of Westeros" Sansa placed a hand on her cheek.

It took a few moments for Sansa to pull herself together, although she had just arrived home. Queen Sansa Stark had many things she needed to do, being that when she accompanied Brienne to Tarth. Many of her duties were placed on the back burner.

"My love, would you mind accompanying me for the day? I need you and three other knights you trust to follow me to the meeting chambers. I've got plenty of scrolls that need to be sent out, and tasks for you all to complete." Sansa spoke while holding up a mirror to wipe the rest of her tears.

"No problem at all, Your Grace" Brienne slipped. "My apologies, it's just in my nature to refer to you as Your Grace"

Brienne began to slip into each piece of armor she received from Jamie Lannister. Sansa couldn't help but cringe every time she watched her lover slip into Lannister wear. Although Cersei had died, the Lanniser blood still remained in Westeros through her two  brothers. Sansa may have enjoyed Tyrions company, but she didn't know Jamie well enough to declare if he was bad or good. But being known as the Kingslayer and Lord Commander to the new King he crippled wasn't exactly a good look.

But the girl could accept that Bri had a different experience with the man, she vouched for him when he arrived at Winterfell for the Long Night, and Sansa vouched for her love. Still, Sansa was determined to get her into something that said "Winter is Coming" because she wanted them all to be recognized as the force they absolutely were.

Brienne slipped through the halls looking for a few of the young men she had seen during the Long Night. So many people died that night, it made it hard for her to remember who was actually still around. Brienne knew she would find them in the training corridors on the east side of the castle. Brienne clipped the fur together before stepping outside of the castle and onto the battleground.

"You three, come." Brienne commanded.

The three men slipped their swords back into their sheaths simultaneously before accompanying Brienne on the stairwell. She informed them of Queen Sansa's request and personally escorted them back to the chambers. At first, Brienne had them posted outside of the room, but Sansa wanted to meet the young men. It was one thing she always admired about her father, he knew every single person in Winterfell because he felt that was his job as their lord, and Sansa intended to do the same. The three boys entered the room looking down at the ground with their backs perfectly hunched over.

"Your Grace, we feel we must show deep gratitude towards you. Thank you for blessing us with the honor of being your trusted knights. We will not fail you" The slim man in the middle spoke first.

"Aye, Your Grace." The other two spoke again.

Sansa stood up, extending her hand out, motioning for the men to sit. Once they were seated and comfortable, Sansa sat back down as well.

"What are your names?" Sansa inquired.

"I'm Weslyy Finch, Your Grace." The middle man spoke first again. His hair was quite long, and dirty blonde. He reminded Sansa a lot of Loras Tyrell, only less feminine.

"My name is Hardwin Goods, Your Grace" The man to the left spoke. His bright green eyes stuck out the most to Sansa. He must've been the youngest in the group being that the boy barely had any facial hair. Or maybe it was just shaved.

"And I am Lonitt Ferlin, Your Grace" The last one answered. His big round belly seemed as if it wanted to burst out of her chest plate. This one reminded Sansa of Samwell Tarly which almost brought a smile to her face.

"It is a pleasure to be speaking with you three." Sansa responded.

"The pleasure is all ours, Your Grace" Lonnit replied.

"I need some time to actually write out the scrolls first. Some will be sent by ravens, the rest need to be hand delivered by you three. I simply wished to interact with you three before having you do my biddings Can you please send Ser Brienne in while you return to your guard duty?" Sansa questioned the three men.

They rose quickly, bowing before removing themselves from Sansa's private chambers. Brienne had re-entered the room, standing by the edge of Sansa's desk with her hand on her sword. She was clearly focused, and already in Lord Commander mode. Sansa appreciated how seriously Brienne took this job, and more importantly didn't allow their relationship to affect her performance.

"Lord Commander, we're going to need a lot more ravens than I thought. I need to get the word out about the Queensguard. Those who wish to be a part of the Queensguard must travel to Winterfell for a friendly competition to prove they're worthy of such a title" Sansa spoke to Brienne.

"Your Grace, may I make a suggestion?" Brienne inquired.

"As my lover or my lord commander?" Sansa raised a brow.

"Lord Commander, of course" Brienne responded stiffly as a board.

"Proceed" Sansa was curious to hear what she had to say.

"You should send Hardwin and Lonnit across the North to spread the word to the closer places. Like Deepwood Motte, and the Dreadfort, Castle Cerwyn, Torrhens Square." Brienne spoke while pointing to the map. "Use the raven for the castles further than those''

Sansa agreed to Brienne's plan. The men returned to the inside of the meeting chamber briefly to discuss their task with the Queen. They were to set out on their journey immediately and work quickly and effectively to spread the word in a timely fashion. Although she doubted the possibility of ever needing seven different men to come to her aid, she still felt appointing them should was a priority.

"We must set out to Dreadfort and Last Hearth.. There are no lords or ladies there. Once we have the Queensguard and the freefolk who stayed are fully trained we should be ready to move. Within one or two moons we should have a full fledged army at Winterfell once again" Sansa muttered looking at the map.

"I'm not looking forward to seeing what it looks like there, Your Grace," Brienne commented.

Sansa sent a raven to the citadel, requesting that a Maester be assigned to Castle Winterfell and have him sent up North immediately. She sent ravens out to the castles residing beyond the heart of the North. The pieces of Winterfell seemed to be falling back into place slowly but surely. The Queen rested her back against the chair behind her desk, feeling satisfied with the work she had done today.

Chapter Text

The snow of Winterfell started to melt away fast.. Which meant spring was right around the corner, rapidly approaching to bring new life to the castle. Spring is a time for color and renewal, she was excited for it to come and release them from the deadly cold grip of this past Winter and all its daunting memories. The meeting's great hall was flooded with men with swords and blueprints in hand. They worked together in creating a throne for their Queen, here in Winterfell. History was being made, and Sansa felt a great joy being a part of it, especially as the first Queen in the North. Sansa thought of her brother in the south, and how the Iron Throne was practically melted into a steaming pile of skin scorching silver. She wondered if his throne would like anything like hers, or if he intended to reforge the one that still somewhat stood. Sansa thought about how all the swords on the iron throne came from Aegon's Conquest, a monumental moment in Westeros. Being that the entire fate of humanity was saved here at Castle Winterfell, she wanted to take a page from their book and have swords forged into her own throne.

The Hand of the Queen made sure to let the woman know that she was against the idea. Lyanna strongly advised Sansa to create something of her own, something that resembled the North. So instead she had them replicate the hand carved wolf head chair that sat at the head table of the dining chambers, only much more extravagant. Castle Winterfell's great hall filled with musty metallic air as the men worked tirelessly to bring the recently reshaped Valyrian steel swords into parts of a chair. As she waited for them to finish crafting a throne that would last for years after she was gone, the sound of bells disrupted her thought. '

She followed the noise outside of the castle, taking in the sight of all the people flooding the field beyond the wall guarding the castle. Her legs moved freely as she began to approach the area where the tournament would soon be held. Her people worked valiantly for the past few weeks, they plowed through the grass in the field just outside the castle walls, bringing dirt to the surface in one large patch . The square was enclosed with a wooden fence carved from a pine tree they'd just chopped down. Many of the people of Winterfell, and the neighboring castles came to watch the men of the North fight for a place in Sansa Stark's Queensguard. She hoped that there would be a woman amongst them, someone like Brienne. If the North was going to change it had to start with the Queen. She needed to lead by example if she ever expected them to follow her.

Brienne and Lyanna were the only two to accompany her at the table placed just at the edge of the dirt patch. They were the only two people she established into her small council, apart from Yara Greyjoy. Sansa granted the lady time to return to the Iron Islands so she could restore whatever warped concept of order they had over there. Being that both the North and the South were in a restorative point of their time, she didn't need to worry about calling upon her Master of Ships to prepare for war. Besides Sansa believed that three of their heads coming together as one would be more than enough to make a well calculated decision. Brienne's presence alone helped tremendously. The Lord Commander was an excellent swordsman and Sansa knew to put Brienne in charge of overseeing the events of the tournament. She would announce the men, regulate the fight, and heed her judgment on who would advance to the next round.

"I'm a bit nervous, my love" Brienne looked at Sansa who sat between her and the Hand.

Less than two hundred people stood around the enclosure shouting loudly as they waited for someone to begin the tournament. Her eyes searched the Queens in desperation. Sansa was really the only one who knew how to talk Brienne out of her public-speaking jitters. Sansa gave her a very calming look, in place of a kiss or a gentle touch. Although their marriage had been announced to all people of theNorth. It was still somewhat startling news, and Sansa didn't wish to make this event about her pending marital arrangement. She moved her hand underneath the black cloth that covered the wooden table. She patted the air a few times before finally landing on Brienne's knee now rubbing it in small circular motions

"My love. Sometimes I think you forget that you've earned a lot of glory most men don't live to reap benefits of. All of Westeros knows you beat the Hound, they know you survived the battle against the wights, that you're the best fighter in all of Westeros.. You have more than earned their respect, and not just as a woman, but as a loyal knight of the North. Up here, that goes a long way" Sansa reassured Brienne.

She took a deep breath before turning back to face the crowd. Brienne motioned for the horn boys to collect their attention. A muddy mellow tone projected out to the crowd as both boys blew out the deep breaths they collected into the mouthpiece of the horn. It replaced the chatter for a moment, then the field fell completely silent. Their attention turned to Brienne, the only person at the head table currently standing.

"Welcome to Winterfell! Before we begin, the Queen would like to say a few words."

Sansa rose from her chair slowly. The traditional Northern highborn lady hairstyle, styled by Lena, paired well with the crown. Everyone knew how beautiful Sansa Stark was, but seeing her today surely took the breath of all the men in the crowd. The brown and black fur that sat on her shoulder, clasped together around her neck with two wolf pendants helped her look strong. Like a Queen worth fighting behind. Whenever she prepared to speak to the people of the North her mind would travel to memories of her father doing so. She hoped the people would grow to love her the way they loved him, maybe even more.

"First, I'd like to thank all of you for traveling all this way. By the grace of the old gods, the snow melted just in time for our competition. The Lord Commander will begin to explain the rules for both the audience and our competitors. Remember there are only six spots to fill so please, do your best. Best of luck to you all" Sansa spoke to all the people.

The crowd applauded while Sansa used her hands to smooth the back of her dress before sitting back down Brienne turned to the crowd explaining to the rules of the tournament, the first fighter with three strikes would win and advance to the next round. Under two hundred people showed up to watch the fights and only thirty two men were deemed worthy enough to enter the competition. Brienne called the first two knights to fight.

Then she called the next two, then the next, and repeated this process for quite some time. Each of the men fought hard, and Sansa had a hard time identifying any skill set aside from the fact that one was strong enough to beat the other. Sixteen men were left, meaning Sansa had ten left to eliminate. Before advancing to the next round, Sansa wanted to converse with the Lord Commander and the Hand. It also served as a short break for the men to rehydrate and prepare for their next fight.

"So, what do you think so far?" Sansa asked, cuddled into a circle.

"They're a strong lot" Lyanna nodded proudly. "I've been keeping my eye on the twins from the Dreadfort, I expect they'll both be moving onto the final round.

"I think I could knock all those silly men into the dust," Brienne replied with a hint of arrogance.

"Yes Bri. I know you're stronger than them all. But you can't be the only knight in my Queensguard" Sansa rolled her eyes.

"Truthfully, there are some good prospects out there. I think the young man from Widow's Watch might be the most promising. He'd make a good addition to the Queengaurd" Brienne advised.

"Okay, good to know," Sansa nodded.

Their brief break came to an end after the Queen sent Brienne back out to man the tournament. The remaining men in the competition lined back up and those who did briefly leave the stands returned back to their places. The Queen returned to her place above her guests and gave the hornboys the signal to sound off their horns. Brienne walked out into the middle of the dirt field with a small scroll in her hand. She read the names from the sheet of paper, and waited for them both to step forward before moving back to the place where she stood and observed the fight. This time around the men fought even harder than they did in their first round.

As Brienne stated the young man from Widows Watch was truly impressive. He managed to knock his opponent flat out on his back within the first few seconds of the fight. No one had seen any of the men's faces yet, they weren't to remove their helmets unless the Queen commanded them to. The next two fought just as vigorously as the last, it was a very close battle but the young man from Bear Island proved himself to be stronger. The rest of the battles continued, and Sansa began to grow tired of watching men wield swords.

Every once in a while her eyes would stray towards Brienne who rarely blinked as she watched the fighting intensely. Combat was one of her favorite things, she loved to study the way the sword moved and the body language of the fighters. She loved when she could predict which way they'd move and judge whether or not she felt she could beat them. The answer was almost always yes. Sansa enjoyed the sight of excitement in her lover's eyes, she was also grateful for her interest. It meant she could get away with allowing her mind to drift elsewhere for stimulation. Sansa was stuck staring into space as the sound of the swords repeatedly clashing rang in her ears.

Brienne had to whisper her name more than once to let her know the fighting was over. The Queen jolted upwards now focusing on the crowd who looked at her with a slightly confused expression. Brienne removed the Queen, the hand and herself from the public view, now guiding the women back behind the castle walls. They entered the private meeting chambers so they could discuss their thoughts without disruption.

"Enjoying yourself, Your Grace?" Brienne asked wittingly.

"No, fighting is the most boring thing in all of Westeros ." Sansa plopped her head down on the desk.

"It's almost over, Your Grace. This is important" Brienne spoke to her Queen.

"I know. Can't you both just tell me who to choose" She huffed.

"This is harder than I suspected. Just when I think I've made my decision, I can't help but think about the skills of another" Lyanna added honestly.

"I'm torn as well. We still have two to get rid of" Brienne expressed. They sat in silence for a moment before a brilliant idea struck the Hand.

"I have an idea," Lyanna gasped abruptly. "Being a knight tasked with constant watch over the Queen shouldn't just be about strength, it should be about character as well. We should bring them in and poke around to test their loyalty."

"That's a brilliant idea, my Lady Hand" Sansa was once again impressed with the young girl.

"Should I send for the rest of the men?" Brienne asked now rising to her feet.

"Yes, please" Sansa nodded.

Brienne disappeared from the room for several minutes before returning with the first knight. Sansa requested that she question the men alone. She felt an audience would ruin the intimacy of the moment, and the more comfortable they felt with the Queen, the more likely they were to speak freely and honestly. Brienne and Lyanna bowed slightly before exiting the room. They waited in the hall now looking over the men who awaited their time with the Queen in a militant position. Brienne could smell the nerves of the men, its stench was powerfully telling. She knew the questioning was what rattled them. Almost all men of Westeros were taught to wield a weapon of some sort, but only the most honorable ones knew how to voice what it meant to serve as a knight of the realm.

The rattling of the silver chainmail armor worn by the first knight bounced off the well lit pale grey walls of the chamber. The man stood silent, stiff and tall as he faced the Queen awaiting her command.

"You may remove your helm, Ser" Sansa smiled at the young man.

Long dark russet brown curls bounced from the helmet of the knight as he removed it. Now holding the silver metal cylinder at his side, he revealed a very wrinkle-free,clean shaven face. His jawline was sharp, his eyes dark green, a very handsome young man. The way the armor looked against his body suggested he was a man built of solid stature. He flashed his bone white pearls and smirked before bowing to the Queen.

"Your Grace" He spoke in a deep, clear voice. "I've heard a lot about Ned Stark's beautiful daughter. May I just say you are truly a sight"

"You flatter me. But, you are not here for flattery are you, Ser?" Sansa raised a brow at the man.

"My apologies, Your Grace. I am not." He apologized.

Sansa thought about how lucky the man was that Brienne wasn't here to hear that. It also forced her to think about how much she wished they were already wed. The longer she was with Brienne, the more the idea of her past infatuation with men was simply that. An infatuation with the idea of being with a man everyone thought was handsome. She never realized how little that mattered, because no one could make Sansa feel the way Brienne did. No matter how handsome or rich they came. Or how charming thor words were, none of them could make her feel the way Brienne did, and that was more than satisfying to her.

"Remind me of your name again?" Sansa questions.

"I am Galvin Dawghtery son of Luther Dawghtery of Widows Watch." He answered.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ser Galvin. I just have one question to ask. Can you tell me what honor means to you?" Sansa inquired.

The man froze for a second, Sansa's line of questioning threw the man off. She was glad, she hoped that in asking this she'd be able to pick off the final two. They sat in silence for several moments before he responded.

"Honor means to uphold my word or die in opposition. Whatever oath I pledge before the Gods is an oath I must uphold. Honor makes a man, without it . . . then the he's no man at all" Galvin answered confidently.

Sansa nodded with a small grin as she was pleased with the man's response. She instructed the man to put on his helmet before returning to the grounds outside the castle wall. Brienne re-entered the room shortly after Ser Galvin exited. Judging by the look on her face, Sansa could tell Brienne had heard what the man said when he first entered, still she decided to pretend as if she didn't, just to see what Brienne would say.

"Your Grace, would you it be alright if I sat in on these private meetings with the knights. As Lord Commander I do feel I can properly advise you on who may or may not be worthy of such title." Brienne formally as usual.

"Are you sure it's not just because you dislike seeing all these very handsome men around your Queen?" Sansa teased.

"So you think they're handsome?" Brienne raised a brow.

"Why yes" Sansa lifted herself from her chair.

Her hand traced the edge of the wooden desk as she moved closer to Brienne slowly and seductively.

"I was just thinking to myself, these men would do such a great job at protecting me. And their not too bad to look at"

Brienne rolled her eyes at Sansa's remarks. The Queen wrapped her arms around the taller woman's neck still giggling at her own remarks. Brienne caught a whiff of the perfume she watched Sansa spray onto her neck whilst sitting at the vanity in their room every morning. She loved that smell. Its fresh floral scent reminded her of something pink or yellow even. Something with a color that stuck out, something aware of its rareness and beauty. Something that made sure its presence was known.

"You know that none of these silly little men could ever make me feel as loved as you do." Sansa extended to the tips of her toes. Her lips puckered slightly as they both leaned in for a small kiss.

"Yes you can sit in my love,"

To Brienne, her Queen's words sounded like a song. A rather old melancholy sort of tune, written by the true romantics of Winterfell. Her cheeks burned a rosy color now. Sansa pulled away from Brienne. She didn't want to get lost in the world of adoration she held for the woman. Plus they didn't want to take up any more of the people's time than necessary, so Brienne sent for the next man. Sansa asked the same question to each knight until they were all done. Both Lyanna and Brienne sat with the Queen, finally helping her decide which two to cut from the tournament. They accompanied Sansa back out to the field where the guests impatiently waited for the Queen's announcement. This time there was no need for the horn boys. The crowd fell silent naturally as Sansa returned to her place at the table, she remained standing in front of her chair, preparing to announce the final six men.

"Again, I'd like to thank everyone for their attendance today. I'd especially like to thank all of the men who fought hard today, if I could accept more than six I would. But then the men of this position would be deprived of the nobility they rightfully deserve as guardians of the Queen. With that being said . . . will Ser Galvin Dawghtery, Ser Bael Snow, Ser Bjorn Snow, Ser Mathew Martin, Ser Craig Haning, and Ser Tiberius Yorke please step forward." Sansa announced to the crowd.

The six men stepped forward with their helmets resting in their left hand and their right resting on the pommel by their waist. Their faces were stone cold, but everyone in the room could tell how they truly felt on the inside. As Galvin said, a man without honor isn't a man at all, personally serving the Queen, especially Queen Sansa Stark, was the most honorable thing in the realm. Sansa moved from behind the table now walking out onto the dirt patch. She motioned for the two servant boys to meet her in the middle. They blindly scrambled out onto the field carrying the folded cloaks in a pile towering over their heads.

"The cloaks please" Sansa spoke as she removed one from the shorter boys arms.

"You'll have to forgive me for not having your armor prepared. I've been away from Winterfell for some time" The Queen apologized for her lack of preparation.

"Will all of you please kneel."

The seven of them all kneeled to the ground while gently placing their swords on the ground in front of them. Their right elbow rested on top of their knees as they waited for Sansa to speak the words they'd swear to uphold

"Do you swear to protect myself, your Queen, from all harm and potential threats?" Sansa asked.

"Aye" They responded simultaneously.

"Do you swear to obey your Queen's commands?"

"Aye"

"Do you swear to keep the Queen's secrets?"

"Aye"

"Do you swear to counsel the Queen when requested otherwise keep silent?"

"Aye"

"Do you swear to defend the Queen's name and honor?"

"Aye"

"Do you swear that if directed you will provide Queensguard protection to all people. Degenerates, wives, lovers, mistresses, and lowborns?"

"Aye"

"Do you swear these things in the presence of the Old Gods?"

"Aye"

"Then rise, Ser Brienne Tarth, the Lord Commander of the Queensquard"

"Rise, Ser Galvin Dawghtery, a knight of the Queensguard"

"Rise, Ser Bjorn Snow, a knight of the Queensguard"

"Rise, Ser Bael Snow, a knight of the Queensguard"

"Rise, Ser Mathew Martin, a knight of the Queensguard"

"Rise, Ser Craig Haning, a knight of the Queensguard"

"Rise, Ser Tiberius York, a knight of the Queensguard"

Sansa spoke while placing their cloaks around their necks. As soon as the knights rose, the crowd let out a loud round of applause for the men. She informed the men that they had some time to return to their respective castle to collect some of their belongings before returning to live out the remainder of their lives in Winterfell.

Chapter Text

Queen Sansa Stark walked through Winterfell accompanied by Ser Bael Snow of the Queensguard. She wanted to be sure the condition of her castle was in good standing before preparing to leave once again. Thankfully, she wasn't leaving the region this time, still the Queen belonged in the heart of the North. Sansa knew that if she wanted her kingdom to be united on all fronts, the condition of Last Hearth and the Dreadfort needed to be restored immediately.

Although the constant praise she received on a day to day basis would suggest otherwise the Queen still feels she hasn't earned the respect of all of the North yet. She hoped that by securing the reinstallment of nobility to two of the most historic castles of the North, she'd finally feel the satisfaction she longed for. Brienne readied the horses before personally making sure the servants prepared the Queen's carriage properly. She made sure they supplied Sansa with plenty of water, wine, fruit, and anything the girl desired.

Commanding the Queensguard was a great honor and Brienne was more than grateful for the opportunity. Still, she couldn't help but feel jealous that Sansa chose Ser Bael Snow to accompany her on her walk through Winterfell. She tried to remind herself that in agreeing to this position, she also agreed to less personal time with the Queen. If she could kick herself for doing so right now, she would. She'd kick herself so hard that she'd fly back in time and convince her past self to turn it down.

Queen Sansa Stark and Ser Bael Snow finally arrived at the front gates of Castle Winterfell. Many knights of Winterfell, and the Queensguard were going to accompany the Queen on this journey. Being that Sansa was in Kings Landing for all those years, she had no idea what to expect of her two neighboring castles, but as Queen she had a duty to assess the situation. The small Mormont woman pushed to the front of the fleet now side eyeing the men who refused to make room for her. Sansa let out a hushed snicker as she watched the men back away from the girl with their hands raised in surrenderance.

"Safe travels, Your Grace. The North is in good hands" Lyanna said confidently to the Queen.

"I have no doubts about that." Sansa nodded before turning her back to the girl.

The knights continued to wear their silver and grey chained armor, being that Winterfell simply didn't have the funds to supply all of her men with stronger armor. But with the help of the castle's newly appointed blacksmith, Celvin Leon, her Queensguard was finally equipped with strong, sleek, unifying gear. They were each given a full new set of black armor with a crowned snarling red wolf growling in the middle of the chest plate. The crowned Red Wolf was the Hand's idea, and acted as the new house sigil. So now, not only would the North forever resemble Queen Sansa Stark, but it would go on to resemble the evolution of the Stark name. They were also given new castle forged Valryian steel swords in hopes that they would use it to uphold the Queen's honor with their very last breaths. The commoners of Winterfell practically cowered at how the unification of their appearance resembled great strength. The men trotted through the snow now finding their horses to mount preparation for their depature. Brienne and Ser Galvin Dawghtery both motioned to mount the horse that would pull Sansa's carriage. They exchanged a look they thought no one else would see, but Sansa saw it all.

"Lord Commander, I assumed you'd be at the front of the fleet being that you're set to command the Queensgaurd." Ser Galvin spoke antagonistically.

"The Lord Commander must remain closest to the Queen at all times. You may take my place at the front of the fleet if it pleases you, or have I asked too much of you Ser Galvin" Brienne replied, crushing his arrogance with authority.

"No Ser" He gritted through his teeth while moving back from the horse.

"Lord Commander, a moment please" Sansa called for Brienne

Brienne hadn't even noticed Sansa wasn't in her carriage yet. She moved from the side of the horse and went to Sansa's aid. After Sansa climbed into the carriage, she grabbed Brienne's hand gently.

"There's no need to fight with him about me, My Love" Sansa looked into Brienne's eyes trying to see how she was feeling.

"As you wish, Your Grace" Brienne responded clearly frustrated.

"I do think the man has a point, you should be leading the knights. I'll be fine with Ser Galvin" Sansa spoke gently.

"Your Grace, I-" Brienne tried to protest the idea but was interrupted.

"Remember your vows, Lord Commander" Sansa didn't want to discipline Brienne but she had to separate the levels of their relationship.

"My apologies, Your Grace" Brienne closed the carriage door not allowing the Queen to speak another word.

Sansa was frustrated with Brienne's anger towards Galvin. She understood the man was interested in her, but she couldn't understand why Brienne refused to acknowledge that Sansa did not return those feelings. Brienne, also beyond frustration, motioned for Ser Galvin to take the horse on the carriage as she moved to the front of the fleet. Sansa poured herself a small glass of wine in an attempt to discard some of her discomfort towards the situation.

The journey to Dreadfort wasn't long at all, in fact its many days shy of a full moon cycle. Sansa was glad to not be confined to a carriage for too long. Being on the road for long periods of time reminded her of her journey to King's Landing, a journey she vowed to never take again. The ride had been peaceful for the first several hours, the horses grew tired right before sunset meaning it was time to give them a break. They pulled over by the river that flowed through half the North, now setting up camp alongside it. Ser Galvin accompanied The Queen while she walked down to the bank. The sight of them together was enough to make Brienne pop. Luckily, Ser Bael and Ser Bjorn were around to distract Brienne.

"Lord Commander, shall we light a fire now?" Ser Craig questioned.

"Yes. Ser Bael, start collecting wood dry enough for burning. Ser Bjorn, you Ser Tiberius, and Ser Mathew and ready the carriage for The Queem to sleep in tonight." Brienne ordered the men.

"Aye," They responded before doing as they were told.

Brienne and Podrick walked a little further from the group. They wanted to get to high grounds so they could scout out the area. The North was still so new to Brienne and she wanted to make sure she led the fleet down the safest and fastest possible route to Dreadfort. Once they reached the top of the mountain, Brienne pulled a map from her back pocket now discussed things with Pod. Thankfully, these woods weren't completely foreign to the islander, and her friends. Being out here reminded Brienne of the second time she laid eyes on Sansa Stark, the time she was able to save her.

"Lord Commander" Pod spoke quietly.

"Yes, Podrick" Brienne responded.

"You vowed to knight me soon. I was just wondering when you think it'll happen" Podrick confessed what was on his mind.

"We'll do it at Dreadfort, alright?" Brienne gave in.

"Yes, thank you. Lord Commander" Podrick grinned.

Podrick noticed Brienne seemed a bit agitated. His lack of time with the Queensguard has made him a bit oblivious to what was going on with Ser Galvin. Brienne was left wondering if Sansa would soon come to her senses and denounce her betrothal to Brienne, instead marrying a man who would give her children. Podrick's somewhat high pitched scratchy voice snapped Brienne from the depths of her own thoughts.

"What's on your mind?" Podrick questioned.

"Nothing Pod." Brienne brushed it off.

"You were my friend before you became Lord Commander, Ser. You can talk to me still, you know." Podrick reminded Brienne.

"Ser Galvin. He's been . . . passing advances at the Queen. It seems like he's attempting to court her." Brienne spoke bitterly.

"Ser Galvin? Brienne, you can't be serious?" Podrick laughed.

"What is so amusing?" Brienne grew annoyed with her friend.

"I would be laughing no matter who the name was. Bri, no one has done half as much as you have for the Queen. We all see the way she looks at you. Like many others, Ser Galvin is simply jealous of your relationship. Regardless, to speak suggestively, in your presence . . . I say you teach him a lesson, Lord Commander" Podrick spoke mischievously.

Brienne thought about Podricks words, his reassurance, and his idea to put Ser Galvin in his place. Then she remembered her Queen's words, and how she wished for Brienne not to engage in petty disagreements over the Queen's heart. She continued to watch Ser Galvin and the Queen from the top of the mountain, now thinking of the ways she could put the man in his place. Her eyes rolled in sheer annoyance at Ser Galvins ability to put a genuine smile on the Queen's face. As if what he had to say was some of the funniest words uttered in all of Westeros. Brienne tried her best not to get too consumed with the Queen's affairs. Instead she chose to check on the remaining members of the Queensguard.

The burning logs crackled sporadically as the flames whipped back and forth with the subtle blowing wind. It paired well with the knight's footsteps trotting through the wet grass. The sound of men marching through the woods left Brienne with an overwhelming feeling of contempness. After dreaming of the honor men felt as they marched from castle to castle, conquering lands at the request of someone the realm had deemed fair. When Brienne was just a small child, every night she'd shut her eyes tight and try to imagine what it would feel like to march off to war. She'd pray to the Gods that they allow her to live long enough to see a day where she could experience such joy, then blow out her candles and fall asleep to the sounds of the ocean. Today, she practically went numb as she opened her eyes to the world she dreamed of.

"Lord Commander, we're having a little friendly hunting competition. Whoever kills the least rabbits has to dig latrines for a full moon cycle. You comin' ?" A skinny freckle faced knight called from across the fire pit.

While Brienne began to bond with the men of Winterfell. Sansa and Ser Galvin remained by the riverside. She squatted down by the edge of the stream and watched as the water washed over her pale hand. Lost deep in her own thoughts, she began to drift her hand side to side, staring at the distorted image caused by the current. Ser Galvin sat behind the Queen, watching her curiously as picked up a few stones to toss inside the river.

"Thank you for choosing me to carry your carriage, it's a great honor, Your Grace." Ser Galvin gathered the woman's attention.

She stood up now turning to face the smug look on the man's face. Judging by the stern cold look on Sansa's face, Ser Galvin decided to wipe his lips of the cocky grin.

"Ser Galvin, I hope I won't have to remind you that although you are a knight of the Queensguard, you are not the Lord Commander. I don't want any more problems from you" She said in a dry short.

"Problems?" He asked with his pitching raising slightly.

"You're on thin ice, Ser Galvin. You've been a member of the Queenguards a few days shy of a full moon cycle and you're already causing trouble. Are you suggesting I've made a mistake in appointing you?" Sansa scolded him.

"Not at all, Your Grace" He bit his tongue.

"You're aware of my betrothal to the Lord Commander, aren't you?" She asked now taking a few steps closer to her

"Yes."

"And how does that make you feel?"

"Your Grace, it isn't my pla-" He tried to avoid the question.

"You swore to provide your Queen with counsel when asked." Sansa reminded him. "I've asked"

"Truthfully, I'm sure the Lord Commander makes for a great knight. I've seen her wield a sword but no woman is better than a man. No matter how big or manly she is" Ser Galvin spoke honestly.

The urge to strike the man across the lips grew inside Sansa, her hand itched to feel the sting of a brutal collision with his face. Yet, she remained composed. She reminded herself of her position and her goal as Queen before responding. Sansa didn't just dislike those who spoke negatively of Brienne, she loathed them. Her demeanor would grow irritated at the way they would dismiss her character simply because she was a woman. Although she was aware that the talk reflected the arrogant men and not the character of Brienne, something inside her begged to be let loose. Free to stand up for the woman and belittle whoever aimed to belittle her.

"Ser Galvin, I don't recall you being at the Battle of Winterfell . . . did you fight during the Long Night" Sansa asked something she already knew the answer to.

"No, Your Grace. I did not" The quiver in his voice contradicted the proud expression he still held.

"And why is that?"

"There was talk in Widows Watch. That Jon Snow was nothing but a bastard that wanted us to fight with Wildings and exiles to reclaim something that was never his. I didn't believe that wight walkers were real, Your Grace" He answered honestly.

"So what I'm hearing is . . . a knight like Ser Brienne of Tarth, has defeated Loras Tyrell, Sandor Clegane, and Jamie Lannister in combat. Shut the eyes of many men of House Bolton, the brotherhood, and whatever else. She survived an army of resurrected northern men, giants, dragons, Dothraki, and Unsullied. All while you were busy contemplating whether or not my 'lying', 'bastard' brother was worth fighting for?" Sansa spoke bitterly.

Her words cut his pride down to the size of a half man. Although she could tell her message had already gotten into him, the silent burning rage she felt wouldn't allow her to stop there.

"You know, you were the first soldier Brienne said should join the Queensguard. Instead of undermining her authority and mine, maybe you should focus on learning how to build a legacy like hers."

Ser Galvin Dawghtery was dismissed from the Queen's presence. A guilty grin grew across Sansa's face as she basked in the joys of being Queen. She practically skipped her way back to the carriage, gloating at the way she just handled Ser Galvin. Her eyes scanned the forest hoping to spot Brienne so they could have some well deserved alone time. Sansa found her way back inside the carriage alone , eating grapes and drinking wine as she listened to the men shout excitedly as they ran after rabbits in the forest. Sometimes she couldn't help but wish she was a bit more masculine, that way there wouldn't be much of a disconnect between her and the people who work under her.

Those who didn't participate in the hunt sat by the fire sang Northern songs loudly as they enjoyed the pairing of war stories and watered down ale. All things Sansa couldn't relate to. As she began to somewhat sulk at the disconnect, she noticed the woods fell unusually quiet for a moment. Sansa lifted her bottom of the plush red cushion, now peeling the curtains back slightly as she peeked outside the small window of the carriage. Suddenly the door flew up. Sansa jolted forward, earning herself a sore pink mark on the right side of her face as her head collided with the window frame. She looked to the man who stormed into her carriage abruptly, nothing the panic riddled on his face

"Podrick, What in the Seven Hells is going on?" Sansa asked as her concern grew.

"People are attacking the camp. Brienne sent me here to keep you safe" Podrick informed the Queen while drawing his sword.

The two listened to the swords clashing against each other as their hearts practically pounded out of their chests. Podrick held his sword out firmly while mumbling words of encouragement to himself. Although Podrick stood tall and brave, Sansa couldn't help but bring Brienne here to protect her. That way Sansa could be sure they are both safe. There were a few loud screams that echoed through the forest, their vibrations rattled through the wood of the carriage and into Sansa's bones. The two of them waited anxiously as the sounds of gruesome killing began to settle.

"Podrick, what did you see?" The Queen questioned.

"Not much. I heard some shouts and saw a few men without armor. The fight should be over soon, Your Grace" Podrick answered her.

Brienne swung her blade swiftly, cutting down those who screamed like banshees while wielding whatever weapons they could scavenge. It didn't take long for the foot soldiers and the Queensguard to send the attackers into a world of permanent darkness. The Lord Commander huffed in an attempt to catch her breath as she looked at the still corpses sprawled across the camp. A few moments passed before Brienne declared the conclusion of the attack. She wiped the blood off of Oathkeeper before placing it back on her hip. Then turned to the carriage to check on the Queen. She knocked on the door, announcing herself so they would know it was safe to open the door. Podrick came out first, then Sansa. The Queen walked around the camp grounds in a panic, against Brienne's advice, observing the dead soldiers.

"Where did they come from?" Sansa turned to Brienne in disbelief

"Your Grace, I've got one of the traitors right here. We can rough him and get him talking for ya" Ser Craig held the man by the neck of his shirt.

"Craig, use this rope, tie him to that tree over there" Brienne spoke tossing him the rope from the tent behind her

The rest of the knights stayed on high alert. Podrick poured water over the fire to make sure they wouldn't be spotted by anyone else. Operating in the dark was going to be hard but it was worth it if it meant keeping their Queen safe.

"We've got another one alive here!" A knight yelled while dragging a woman next to the man already tied to the tree.

Brienne, Sansa, and Ser Galvin stood in front of the captives. Sansa's eyes squinted as she took a closer look at the men. Her breathing stopped for a moment, suddenly recognizing the 'X' on the chestplate of the man. It was the only piece of armor he had, leaving his comrade completely bare. She blinked a few times, hoping that somehow the 'X' would vanish similar to the Lord of a House she thought was extinct. She assumed all of their men died when Jon and Lord Baelishs' armies stormed Winterfell. Brienne and Ser Galvin pulled out their swords simultaneously holding it up to the captives' throats.

"Whatever the Queen asks, you will answer" Brienne threatened them.

"What Queen?" The man hissed while squirming against his restraints.

"The Queen of the North, Lady Sansa Stark" Ser Galvin replied.

"Since when?" His eyes widened in realization of who stood before him. "My god, I can't believe you're still alive"

"Where did you come from?" Sansa questioned.

"We've been in Dreadfort ever since the Boltons took over Winterfell. Some of the men fled your castle the night before the battle. We were too scared to fight a Wildling army, and rightfully so. Lord Ramsay was an arrogant little bastard. He'd have gotten us all killed if we didn't run" He cowered

"If you weren't such a coward, you'd realize the Wildlings were the least of Ramsay's worries. I was the reason Ramsay lost, the Knights of Vale won that battle and they won it for me." Sansa's voice bellowed with power.

"I apologize, Your Grace. We had no idea the North was granted independence. The people of Dreadfort know nothing other than The Hawk." He shook his head while crying.

"What is 'The Hawk'?" Sansa inquired.

"He's taken over Dreadfort. He's been calling himself Warden of the North. Been rounding up men from the abandoned castles like Dreadfort and Last Hearth. They've been planning to march on Winterfell. But I don't think they knew of you, Your Grace" The captive man squealed like a pig.

Sansa kept her eyes on the two as she wracked her mind, pondering where to go from here. There could be no Warden of the North, because Sansa was the Queen, and she had final jurisdiction on what happened here. She couldn't help but feel like kicking herself for making their journey to Tarth her number one priority. Had she not left immediately after being appointed Queen, she could have been able to restore the castles before the scum of the North banned together in rally against her.

"Nothing to say?" Sansa looked at the woman to the left.

Her clothes were torn, and her hair was completely disheveled. Had Sansa not known any better she would've thought the woman was a wilding. The woman looked at Sansa with furrowed eyebrows and even crazier eyes.

"The Hawk will be the King. Starks have done nothing but get us all killed. It's time we follow a new name" The woman spat out.

"Speaking out against the Queen is an act of treason, punishable by death. Hold your tongue, woman" Ser Galvin threatened her.

"She's not my Queen" The woman rolled her eyes.

"I will give you one chance to re-think those words. Otherwise I will be forced to execute you" Sansa squinted at the woman.

The woman coughed up a wad of phlegm, spitting it just before the Queen's black muddy boots. Sansa tilted her head with a slight grin on her face, she was amused by the fact that even in the weaker position the woman still refused to back down. It also meant that whoever they were fighting for had the potential to be viciously strong if the woman chose to carry out her last moments like this.She took a deep breath in a last attempt to prepare herself for the troubles she would face in Dreadfort.

"Untie her" Sansa looked at Ser Galvin.

Ser Galvin grabbed the woman aggressively. He cut her rope loose and dragged her to where Sansa intended. She requested that the twins Ser Bjorn and Ser Bael hold the woman by the shoulders.

"Brienne, your sword please." The Queen requested that Brienne redraw her sword.

"I want you to listen closely." Sansa pointed to the man still tied to the tree. "There is only one Queen. No Wardens, No Hawks, No Boltons. Anyone who decides to call them such is actively participating in treason and will face the same fate as your comrade here."

"Lord Commander, her head please" Sansa commanded now resting her hands behind her bacl

Brienne nodded before lifting her sword into the air. She swung down towards the nape harshly separating the head from the body. It thudded against the solid ground, rolled down the hill slightly and crashed against the feet of the man tied to the tree like a boulder. He looked up at Sansa and Brienne, his eyes dark and filled with terror.

"I want you to take this head back to your so-called Hawk. Make sure you tell him that the true Queen, the Red Wolf of the North, is coming for him"

She picked up the head of the woman as Ser Bael cut the rope that bound him to the tree. Blood poured out from the bottom of the severed head staining the dress and the hands of the Queen. She practically stared into his soul as she pushed the head against his chest. His hands quivered around it before taking off into the woods. He ran North so fast that someone without contect would think he was being chased by dire wolves and in some ways, hee was. Although Sansa was the only true wolf in the north, the ways of the vicious four legged creature grew rather quickly amongst her men. Brienne wiped the blood off of her sword with the blood stained cloth once more. The Queen ordered for her knights to focus and orchestrate a schedule to keep watch over their camp. They were sat to arrive at Dreadfort soon enough.

Chapter Text

"What do you think our best move would be?" Sansa asked Brienne.

Brienne, Sansa, Ser Bael, Ser Galvin, and Ser Bjorn sat around the recently extinguished fire trying to devise a plan to infiltrate the abandoned castle. Sansa choked on the ghostly white smoke that vanished into the air now singing to her lungs. The Queen and her men stood in the forest just a few miles outside the castle walls. Their presence was masked by the multitude of trees full of leaves, and the fog that seemed to only grow thicker. The rest of the Queensguard and Winterfell's foot soldiers moved quickly and quietly through the woods trying their best not to alert anyone as they inched closer to the castle walls.

"We send two men dressed in plain clothing to the door. Once they open up to greet them, the rest of us force our way in." Brienne suggested.

"Ser Bael and I will go. We're Dreadfort born so they'll be more likely to let their guard down when they see we've returned" Ser Bjorn volunteered him and his twin.

"We start asking questions, and if they refuse to talk. We show them the ways of the Red Wolf" Ser Bael chimed in, now high fiving his twin.

"Good plan, Lord Commander" Ser Galvin nodded, giving Brienne an approving nod.

Brienne was taken aback by Ser Galvins compliment. Last she checked the man insisted on being in an imaginary competition with himself, taking great secretive strides towards the heart of the Queen. She nodded her head with a feeling somewhat uneasy by his politeness before facing the twins. Ser Bael and Bjorn took off their boots, then the armor that covered their legs, then the chest plate, then the arms. The mannerisms of the twins intrigued both Sansa and Brienne. They couldn't help but notice how inseparable they were, and how often they finished each other's sentences. Both stood somewhat tall, pale with raven colored hair. As much as Brienne had seen them eat, none of it stuck to them, leaving nothing but skin and thin layers of flesh left to cover their bones. Everyone had a hard time telling them apart, especially when they were dressed in the same outfit just as they were today. They wore thick dark wool pants, and a long sleeve loosely fitting white tunic.

As they began to lace their boots back up the Queen, Lord Commander, and the soldiers of Winterfell split up. Half of the group stood with their backs pressed against the wall just beside the gate, while the rest remained hidden in the woods. Sansa watched patiently as the twins stood in front of the castle gates. It took several minutes for anyone to actually come to the gate, and when they did, their swords were already drawn.

"Announce yourself or lose your head" Someone from behind the wall yelled.

"Bael and Bjorn Snow. We were Roose- Ramsay Bolton's men! We're Dreadfort men!" Ser Bjorn yelled.

"Drop your swords, they're telling the truth." A man said as he approached the twins. "It's nice to see you two again"

A small man with a thick and long blonde beard approached the twins. His hair, equally as long as his beard was tied back into one thick braid. An arrangement of barkless wooden sticks sat as a crooked crown on his head. The large grey stoned castle towered behind the man, making him look smaller than he actually was. He flashed the twins a smile as he pulled them into a hug.

"I thought you two died when that crazy Bolton bastard picked a fight with Jon Stark" He spoke with a low growling voice.

"Once the Knights of the Vale showed up. Jon Stark allowed us to surrender, and to join him in the fight against the Wights." Ser Bjorn answered the man truthfully.

"The Long Night. I didn't believe it to be true. After Jon and Sansa Stark spread the word about the wights rising again, we lost more than half our army. None of them returned while, Of course I stayed here, what in the seven hells could provoke me to give my life for Westeros?" He spoke. "But you two made it out alive. I'm impressed"

"The toughest battle I've ever fought" Ser Bael reminisced proudly on his memories of surviving that night.

While the twins and the unknown man continued to recap Westeros' recent history, the Queen and her men waited for their moment to siege. Ser Galvin and Ser Brienne stood in front of the Queen with their hands on their pommels.

"Your Grace, I don't think we should attack just yet." Brienne whispered to the Queen.

"Why not?" Sansa questioned.

"If Ser Bael and Ser Bjorn know this man. They may be able to create a better opening for us." Brienne explained to the Queen.

"You don't think our men are strong enough to take them here, now?"

"Of course we are. But, we may not have to lose anyone if we wait." Brienne advised. "The choice is yours, Your Grace. We follow your commands."

Sansa called for her men to retreat back to the forest while Briennemoved to escort her back to the carriage. They checked their surroundings before fleeing back into the fog and trees in retreat from Castle Dreadfort. Brienne commanded that Podrick, Hardwin, and Weslyy remain hidden outside of the castle walls. She instructed them to seize the first opportunity they could to inform the twins of their change in location.

"Tell them to meet us along the Weeping Water, gather as much information as they can." Brienne spoke slowly to the man before retreating on foot with everyone else.

The men of Winterfell struggled to search for their horses, slightly blinded by the thick white clouds. Once they came in contact with the four legged animals they mounted them and charged south. Brienne wanted to get them out of there as fast as she possibly could, without making a single noise. The Queen sat back in the carriage wondering if the sudden change in plans would disrupt the mission. She worried that the Dreadfort twins would simply go back home and betray her. Given her history with their kind, she couldn't help but be weary of their loyalty.

They rode south for at least twenty miles, to be sure there was a great distance between them and the people of the Dreadfort. Once they arrived at the Weeping Water, they set up the area for battle. Although this attack was supposed to be secretive, Sansa knew there were only two castles in the realm that hadn't bent the knee. Anyone coming to Dreadfort from the South had already sworn their fealty to her, and if the attackers were from Dreadfort her men would be prepared.

Ser Bjorn and Ser Bael continued to talk with the man as they waited for the attack to happen. The tall blonde man escorted the twins deeper into the castle. Their eyes followed the sound of the whipping fabric coming from the sky. One huge flag was hoisted from the upper level of the castle, printed with a new house sigil. A dead wolf being picked over by a hawk sat proudly in the middle of the bright red flag. The twins locked eyes, exchanging thoughts in only the way twins could do. Ser Bael and Bjorn knew that the delay in the attack meant there had been a change of plans. They quickly decided to stick to their undercover roles, that way they could acquire enough information to take them out.

"Like the new sigil? A Queen in the North" He remarked with gripe and sarcasm. "I'm coming for that bitch"

"You're the Hawk?" Ser Bael questioned.

"So you've heard of me? Good." He grinned evilly. "The Stark bitchkilled one of my wives, sent her head back to me through my own men. Said to warn me that the 'Red Wolf' was coming. I created the sigil just yesterday.'

"How did this all come to be? I'm impressed, Snow" Ser Bjorn pretended to be impressed by the Hawks efforts.

The man turned around, suddenly grabbing Ser Bjorn by the collar of his tunic. He threw him onto the ground, now tearing the fabric slightly before drawing his sword and pressing its sharp tip gainst his neck. His dirty wet boo left a large muddy footprint on his white shirt as he pressed up against the stomach of Ser Bjorn. The knight of the Queensguard panicked as he felt the pressure of the man's foot pushing him into the ground in a suffocating stomp

"Call me Snow once more, and I'll rip your balls off" Hawk grimaced in his face.

His breath reeked of raw rabbit and onion, which explained why everyone here looked as if they were practically starving.

"I-I'm sorry. I meant no offense" Ser Bjorn struggled to breathe

"It's Hawk now" He laughed while extending a hand out to the man. Ser Bjorn gripped the extended hand tightly before being raised back on his feet "Let me show you something"

Ser Bjornn dusted off his shirt, letting out a suppressed grumbling sound as he and his brother followed the Hawk into the castle. There were less than two hundred men there, they all dragged through the castle clearly tired from little food and excess work they had there. As the twins walked deeper into the castle they began to hear grunting noises, lots of shouting too. Hawk opened the door in the back end of the castle and led the men downstairs.

At least twenty men stood in a circle, their dark intentions lingering in the shadows they casted over the five or six women cowering in their presence. Ser Bael cringed as he watched one of the men grab a girl and slap her. The man licked his lips then began to unbuckle as he stared at the girls like they were pieces of meat. His face drew up in disgust as he turned his head away, still being forced to listen to the grunting wails of the woman. Ser Bjorn locked eyes with one of the girls for a moment. The whites of her eyes had turned veiny and pink as the streams of salty tears streamed down her face profusely.

"I even started a brothel of my own" He gloated. "Found a couple of Widling girls just wondering about the North. I dragged as many of them as I could here. You wouldn't believe what kind of fight the lot of them put up. Took out at least four of my guys before we could even get a hand on one."

"We've seen how the freefolk fight up close, I believe ya" Ser Bjorn continued to play along.

"They did alright for a bunch of women" He sneered. "The rest of them are being housed in the crypts. I managed to capture over a hundred of them in just the last moon cycle"

Both of the Winterfell men didn't say a word as they continued to follow the Hawk through the castle. He concluded the very brief tour just outside of the great hall. He turned to face the men before speaking.

"Well, let's get you settled. I'll feed you and then you can tell me all about what's going on in Winterfell" Hawk grinned while placing his hands on their shoulders.

Meanwhile, south of Dreadfort at the Weeping Waters, the men worked vigorously at getting the battle tents set up. Sansa only traveled with just under a thousand men. She thinks she may have underestimated exactly how many men she would need to win this fight. But she remained confident in the fact that one man trained in Winterfell was worth five trained elsewhere. Their success wouldn't just come from their strength either, but their strategy, something she hoped the men of Dreadfort still lack. Ser Galvin and Ser Mathew sat outside of the Queens tent guarding her and the map with battle tactics resting inside it. The rest of the men who moved throughout the camp readied their weapons, held down watch posts, and caught up on rest or lack of food. They did everything they needed in preparation for an attack, as their Queen commanded.

Ser Brienne moved throughout the camp too, only she oversaw everything. She made sure her men were in the proper mindset and weren't goofing off or drinking ale. Brienne didn't think she would transfer into a position of power so adequately, especially at this rate. She always imagined if she did ever get here, she'd still be spending her time trying to prove herself. Brienne continued her walk before stumbling across the Queens tent. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but ever since they left Winterfell the two have barely had any alone time, and she hated it.

"Lord Commander, may I have a word with you alone please?" Ser Galvin interrupted Brienne's thought.

The two walked down to the river. Brienne placed her helmet on the ground beside her as she sat on a boulder protruding from the grass. Ser Galvin analyzed the features of the woman silently. Having never had the opportunity to view her up close,he realized her image was actually a lot more feminine than one his mind curated in absence of facial details. He continued to stare as if she were some foreign creature. The more he looked the more he found his curiosity growing. A woman of her stature and reputation must've had some very interesting stories to tell. He wondered what kind of person was beneath the exterior of a female Lord Commander.

"Ser Galvin, quit staring" Brienne rolled her eyes.

"Apologies, Lord Commander" He snapped out of his gaze. "I just wanted to apologize. My behavior in regards to the Queen with you was more than inappropriate, it was dishonorable."

Brienne paused, she was surprised the man had actually apologized to her. She's heard very little apologies from men throughout her life, even when they both knew she deserved one. Brienne couldn't help but be stand-offish towards men, they've done nothing but sneer and treat her as if she were less than nothing.

"It's alright, Ser Galvin" Brienne looked at the man sweetly.

"I've heard great things about your swordsmanship. I'm looking forward to learning everything I can from you, Ser" He continued.

"Did the Queen put you up to this?" She couldn't help but be skeptical.

"She just reminded me that I still have a ways to go before I've earned the type of legacy you have. Most people with a story like yours aren't still alive to talk and teach on it. So, as I said before, I'm looking forward to learning everything I can, from such a skilled knight" He extended a hand out to Brienne.

She extended a hand out to Ser Galvin as her expression softened in awe. The two shook hands firmly, now settling the small conflict they had. Brienne thanked the man for showing her more respect and saying such kind things about her. The two found themselves still out by the water, sharing war stories for quite some time now. They sat comfortably on the ground by the water, laughing at some of their childhood memories too

"So wait, you actually fought a bear?" Ser Galvin asked in awe. "Liar"

"You want to see the scar?" She began to unbuckle the shoulder on her chest plate.

Brienne pulled the cloth of her shirt back, revealing the four healed claw marks on her neck. Ser Galvins eyes grew wide, he couldn't believe that she had actually survived a fight against a bear.

"I didn't do it alone. Jamie Lannister actually helped me out. I hate to say it, but I miss that old cunt" Brienne swore.

"I don't think I've ever heard you swear before." He continued to laugh. A brief moment of silence passed before anyone spoke again

"So, I must ask . . . how did Brienne of Tarth end up with Sansa Stark?"

"A few years ago, I was a part of Renly Baratheon's Kingsguard. He was murdered and I went with Lady Catelyn Stark after they accused me of killing him. I swore an Oath to their mother that I'd bring Jamie to King's Landing in exchange for her daughters. By the time I arrived, the girls were long gone and their mother was dead. Podrick and I set out to find the girls. Found Arya she didn't want my help. Found Sansa too, she didn't want it either. Until she did. We've been together ever since" Brienne told the very long story to Ser Galvin.

"And your betrothal? How did you two manage to . . ." Ser Galvin trailed off.

"You'd fall in love with me if I saved your life twice, too" Brienne responded while nudging his side.

"Maybe I would" He laughed with the woman

After the two had their private conversation, Ser Galvin went back to his post while Brienne went inside the tent. Sansa looked relieved to see her lover, she felt as if the two hadn't spent enough time together either. Brienne embraced the girl in a tight warm suffocating hug.

"I expected you to slip into my private quarters a while ago, Lord Commander" Sansa whispered so the men outside the tent wouldn't hear her.

"I actually had a conversation with Ser Galvin. It was surprising . . nice. He's a lot more amusing than I would have thought" Brienne grinned, thinking back to the laughs they shared by the water.

"Really? Well, I am very proud of you. In fact, I'm so proud I might even have to give you a reward" Sansa spoke suggestively.

She hoisted her backside up against the table where the map laid. It began to crinkle as Sansa scooted further back on it. She motioned for the tall blonde to come and stand right between her slightly parted legs that kicked as they hung from the edge of the table. Brienne obeyed, now finding herself standing with the redhead's legs wrapped around her thighs. The Lord Commander wrapped her hands around Sansa's waist and began to trace her thumb over the fabric of her corset dress. Sansa leaned forward, closing what little space remained between the two of them. If it were up to Sansa she would let Brienne strip her naked and take her passionately right here. The two spent several minutes with their mouths attached to each other like leeches before the sound of man's came from the outside of their tent.

"Your Grace, can I come in?" Ser Galvin spoke.

"A moment please" Sansa responded.

Brienne moved back, allowing for Sansa to hop down from the table. She looked at the crinkled map in panic. As if it threatened to reveal the dirty details of what they were just getting into. The two adjusted their clothes and hair trying to make sure they didn't look as if they were just ravaging each other. The Lord Commander took one large step to the right before allowing Ser Galvin to enter the tent.

"We found someone, Your Grace" Ser Galvin peeked his head into the tent briefly.

Sansa and Brienne sighed in slight relief before rushing out of the tent behind him. The man led them to a woman dressed in the thick warm oversized furs only freefolk wore. Two of the knights had the woman by both of her arms, gripping onto them tightly as she fought and cursed. She wiggled profusely, almost breaking free from their grasp when she noticed the Queen approaching her. Her squirming settled, and her eyes grew wide in recognition of the fellow redhead.

"It's alright. You can release her" Sansa told her men. They released the forceful grip they had on her, sending her straight to the ground.

"Lady Sansa!" The woman said her name with such relief, as if she had been waiting all her life for this moment.

"What's your name?" Sansa inquired

"Faran." She replied.

"You must've fought during the Long Night?" Sansa kneeled, extending a hand out.

"Aye" She answered.

"Alright then. Take my hand" Sansa smiled. "Where did you come from?"

"I've been running for days trying to find the remains of the wall. I don't know where I am or- or where I was. I-I thought I wanted to stay in the south. I figured I could work in a highlords castle somewhere and provide a good life for my boy. After the battle, I went south of Winterfell I think? I met this blonde bearded man, he called himself a hawk" The woman was freezing.

"Let's get you by the fire" Sansa motioned for the men to help her.

Sansa grabbed a flask full of water now, handing it to the woman. She watched solemnly as each gulp of water the woman took slid down her throat. Her eyes wandered to the gashes on her face, the blood on her thick wool coat, and the look in her eyes. Sansa could tell the girl may have been forced by a man recently, she remembered how it looked on her

"She was in Dreadfort, Your Grace" Ser Galvin looked at Sansa in awe.

"When you're ready. I'd like for you to tell us what happened there" Sansa stood over the girl.

"No, I-I-I" She started to panic.

Brienne stepped in to escort the girl into a private tent, only the Queen followed. She figured the girl would be more inclined to talk if she felt comfortable, and being around a bunch of men right now wasn't the answer. The girl began to breathe in and out slowly, steadying her heart rate.

"It's alright, take your time" Brienne spoke softly.

"After we saw Jon off beyond the wall, a lot of the recently widowed women decided to stay with their children in the south, like I told you. That man, he killed- he killed our kids. He forced us to do sex work with the knights there. He said it was what he wanted as the true ruler of the north. When my good friend Sara tried to tell him that you were Queen of the North, he cut her tongue out" Faran spoke, hissing in anger.

The old Sansa would have cringed at hearing a story like that. She would have been in complete shock hearing that there were men out there, evil enough to do something so horrifying. But Queen Sansa was all too familiar with evil entitled men. They held some responsibility in developing the ruthlessness she needed to get here today. Still, her heart ached for the woman, she knew what it felt like to lose everything.

"I promise you. When my men seize the Dreadfort we will make sure he suffers" Sansa promised the woman.

"No, I want to be the one to make sure he suffers" Faran griped.

Chapter Text

Ser Bjorn and Bael managed to sneak away from the Hawk and his men at the Dreadfort the next day. The two left with a few foot soldiers, tasked with scouting the area for any sign of Queen Sansa's troops. Podrick, Weslyy and Hardwin lagged behind them as they waited for the opportunity to reveal their presence. The twins tricked the other three men into heading out towards a nearby river so they could discreetly hide their bodies after they killed them. Halfway to the river the twins turned and simultaneously stuck their swords in the backs of two soldiers. The eyes of the last living footsoldier grew in terror as he realized what was happening. Ser Bael and Bjorn argued briefly over who got to kill him before realizing the man was now fleeing on foot. That's when Podrick and the other two knights appeared from the woods. Weslyy pierced his sword into the stomach of the man before pulling it out and watching him drop. They climbed down from their horses and dragged bodies deep into the forest.

The five managed to arrive at the camp just before the sun set. One of the Winterfell foot soldiers spotted them from the tower before sounding the horn.Their horses retreated towards the middle of the camp. As soon as the horses came to a complete stop the men climbed down from them with their heads on a swivel in search of the Queen. A soldier pointed to the tent where they would find the Queen. They stood outside of the tall black tent, announcing their names before the Queen. They followed the command of her voice and entered her tent.

"Your Grace, we're back" Ser Bael informed her.

"Did anyone follow you, was anyone suspicious of anything?" Sansa asked.

"No, Your Grace. We left with a few of their men, killed them, hid their bodies, and headed straight to the Weeping Waters" Ser Bjorn said confidently.

"God now tell me what you know." Sansa sat down.

"They've got less than two-hundred men. Captured a bunch of freefolk women too. They plan on using them to collect more men for their fight. He keeps them downstairs, and the men go down there and . . . I'm sure you can imagine the rest." Ser Bael informed the Queen.

"We're quite familiar with the Hawk too. There were a few bastards that were banned together in the Dreadfort, and Hawk was one of them. His real name might be Radcliff Snow and I think-" Ser Bjorn spoke but was interrupted by his brother.

"I told you not to mention that to the Queen" Ser Bael hit his brother.

"Mention what?" Sansa looked between the two.

"I think Hawk is Roose Bolton's bastard. When we were children one of the bastards in our group was always so bitter.Especially in sight of Lord Boltons and his relationship with Ramsay. The only thing is . . . he's not black of hair like the Boltons. But I wouldn't bring it to you if I didn't think it were true, Your Grace" Ser Bjorn continued.

Sansa could feel her stomach knot at the thought of the Boltons still living and breathing. She wasn't going to let him intimidate her,not this time. She was much smarter and stronger than she was the last time she encountered them and if the rumors were true, she had absolutely every plan in showing them that.

"So when do you think we'll have the best chance at succeeding our attack on the Dreadfort?" Sansa questioned.

"I say we ride back over there tonight, attack while it's dark. During the night most of the men are either drunk or underground with the women" Ser Bael answered. "They're men are practically starving there anyways, the siege should go smoothly"

Brienne and Sansa heard everything they needed to. Ser Bael and Bjorn were dismissed so they could put their Queensguard armor back on. Brienne and Podrick readied the horses before mounting them to inform the rest of the men in the camp to prepare to move on the Dreadfort. Ser Galvin escorted the Queen back to her personal tent so she could await their siege safely. Sansa pulled back the curtains revealing Faran, she looked better than she did yesterday. She figured she must've been judging by the way she sat up stiffly sharpening the blade of her axe.

"Heard you're preparing to move in" She spoke eerily.

"We are" Sansa replied. "I'd like to ask you a question"

"What?"

"What's it like beyond Northern territory? Life without lords and ladies, without Kings and Queens? Tell me what that's like" Sansa began to put away their military plans.

"Better than here." She snarked, continuing to rub the rock against her axe.

"I'm truly sorry for everything you've gone through here. The North, it's supposed to be your home, my home, our home." Sansa sincerely apologized.

"I don't want your 'sorrys'. You're just as bad as he is" She gritted her teeth.

"Me?" Sansa was appalled.

"Yes, you. You stupid highborns Didn't the Long Night teach you anything? When you take away your fancy names, and your ass kissing servants, and your big strong protective guards. We're all just people" Faran was defeated.

The woman buckled to her knees, tears streamed down her face. Her pale white hands brushed up against her wet freckled face. The words that shot out Farans mouth stuck to Sansa like glue. The Queen had said so many things about wanting to be different, wanting the North to be different for her and her people. That included freefolk, bastards, cripples, dwarves, whores, and anyone who was deemed less than everyone else. She wasn't afraid to admit that she didn't have all the solutions to that problem right now. What she truly feared was the possibility of never finding them. If she couldn't figure out how to ensure that the North was a realm catering to all of its people, she'd be going back to her world. She'd be breaking an oath ultimately failing them. She only had experienced life as a highborn and how could someone born of that status learn to serve those who weren't without their help?

"Faran, I know I don't know what your life was like beyond the Wall and I especially don't know what it feels like to be here after all that's happened. But I do know what it feels like to be hurt by men. To be in a position where you can't do anything to protect yourself, the ones you love from those who wish harm upon you. That feeling? It shall soon come to an end, just before the sun rises in the morrow" Sansa promised the woman.

Faran made eye contact with Sansa, her expression softening as the courage to keep fighting grew from the Queen's encouraging words. For the first time since Jon, she believed what someone born South of the Wall had promised her.

"You Starks are really something special, you remind me of you, your brother" She smiled softly.

"I'll take that as a compliment" Sansa grinned at the comparison to Jon.

Brienne returned to the tent waiting to escort the two women to their carriage. Faran insisted on arriving at the castle on horseback but there wasn't anyone available to her. She then insisted on riding on the back of a knight's horse. She refused to sit back in the carriage with Sansa while the rest of them charged into war. Faran's bravery inspired Sansa to think about learning to fight. Ser Weslyy stuck out a hand now helping the wildling woman climb on the back of his horse. As the men charged North of the Weeping Waters, Sansa sat back in the carriage anxiously analyzing every bump the wheels hit. Occasionally she would pull back the curtain peeking her head through the window to get a better location of their whereabouts.

By the time they arrived at the castle, their presence was disguised by the dark shade of night. Queen Sansa ordered her men to pull the fleet out in front of the castle gate. Ser Bael and Bjorn dismounted their horses before disappearing behind the west wall. Having a good look at the wall when they first arrived, the twins spotted a small error in the construct of the wall. There was a pretty thin gap that had never been filled simply because most men weren't thin enough to fit through it. But the nimble body of the Snow twins slid through with ease. Ser Bael reminded his brother to remain quiet and low as they moved through the castle grounds. Ser Bjorn arrived at the gates while his brother kept watch as he lifted the latch.

The rust of the metal gate creaked as he tugged on the handle, opening up the gates nice and wife for Sansa and her men to flood to the front gates. The men who lingered outside froze in a fear stricken awe as they watched the giant army roll into the Dreadfort. Few men found the courage to run and find their King presumably, but the ones who didn't already knew there was no way they'd make it out alive. The men dismounted their horses swiftly, they stood with their hands on their pommels waiting to draw on their Queen's command. Sansa climbed out of her carriage, revealing herself to the Dreadfort. Those who did recognize her gasped, and those who didn't whispered. Once Sansa stepped out into the open, it was only a matter of time before she lured the Hawk out.

The big blonde man appeared from the top of the stairwell. Sansa looked towards him, barely able to look at him in distraction of how beautiful the moon was tonight. She took in a deep breath basking in the glory of how the stars made this a perfect night for killing.

"Sansa Stark. I've been waiting for you" He grinned as he walked down the stairs.

"I take it you received my message then" Sansa spoke loudly and confidently.

"I did." He confirmed. "Like my new house sigil?"

His deep frightening voice traveled through the gap between them, unable to penetrate through Sansa and her defense. He pointed upwards to the flag lit by the torches along the castle wall. Sansa turned her attention to the floating banner. The image of the hawk picking at the dead wolf only served to add fuel to the enormous fire burning inside her. She stared at it intensely, soaking up all of the anger it created within before turning her attention back to the man.

"I see you're trying to cut your ties from your father" Sansa poked at him.

"What are you going on about?" He seemed to grow annoyed.

The men of both Winterfell and the Dreadfort watched anxiously as the two continued to converse across the campgrounds of the castle. The sound of their rapid heart beats picking up like a stampede of horses flooded their ears. Adrenaline began to fill every man and woman within the vicinity. Brienne didn't like to go back and forth much before a fight, she preferred to get her enemies while they bled out like a stuck pig. That way she was still in control of the situation. Brienne and Ser Galvin exchanged a supportive look, preparing themselves for whatever would come next.

"I've heard a nasty little rumor. One saying you're Roose Bolton's bastard?" Sansa antagonized him.

"You've got the wrong one, ya dumb cunt" He cackled. "A bastard, I am. Roose Bolton's ? That I am not."

Ser Bael and Bjorn's eyebrows drew in the same sense of confusion as they made eye contact with each other. They were sure that this man was Roose Bolton's bastard, and that he was the one in charge here. By the time Hawk reached the bottom of the steps, he managed to grab a few of his men before whispering in their ear. A split second later, one of their men put an arrow through the throat of one of Sansa's knights. Brienne quickly grabbed Sansa tossing her inside the carriage before wielding her sword at the first Dreadfort man they could find. The Knights of Winterfell dispersed all throughout the castle, slaying all of the men who posed a fight. Faran used her freshly sharpened axe to get revenge on every man that touched her, her children, or her friends and their family.

Sansa sat back anxiously waiting for the fight to be over, just as she did during the last battle. Her heart pounded on the sound of the metal clashing, but not over the screams. She cringed every time she heard a scream go silent just before a hard thud followed. Sansa pulled the curtains of the carriage back, now taking in the sight of the Dreadfort men on their knees begging for her men to not kill them. As she watched them begin to ignore their pleas, she flung open the door of her carriage. Sansa hopped down from it's small elevation and commanded her men to halt just as their swords began to come down,

"Do not kill those who wish to surrender, instead tie them up. Focus on bringing me the Hawk, he is who we came here for." Sanssa shouted, redirecting the army.

Out of the two hundred men in Hawks army, sixty three of them died before they decided to surrender. As Sansa walked through the rows of captured men, she couldn't help but feel sorrow towards the look of their malnourished faces and the tiredness of their eyes. Slowly and absently, they told a story of great fatigue. They so desperately wanted to be done with all the running, war, and death. She knew that in order to gain the people, instead of deciding to kill them, she'd show them mercy and appeal to that side of them.

"It was brought to my attention that some of you here were unaware of the North's independence from the other six kingdoms. Therefore, I'm willing to give those a chance to bend the knee, here and now" Sansa spoke to the men.

Brienne and Ser Galvin approached the Queen dragging an unconscious Hawk behind them. His face was bloody and beaten, as were the fists of Sansa's two most dependable people. Faran stood over the man, holding her axe above his head with wild as. She panted like a dog as she wiggled her fingers and smiled in preparation to bring it down hard. Brienne stopped the woman from killing him just in time by shoving her to the ground. She rose to her feet now swinging her sword across through the air erratically. She nearly took out half of Sansa's army with every forceful swing.

"I promised you your revenge, I meant that. Please just trust me" Sansa pleaded with the hot headed woman.

Faran let out a big sigh of frustration as she blew her messy fawn red hair out of her eyes with a gust from her lips. Several men paused before bending down and kneeling on the ground. They kept their heads down, not making eye contact with the Queen in fear of her possibly turning on them. Still many remained on their feet, their faces filled with spite as they looked at the girl with such hate. Sansa knew why they hated her. Not only was she Ned Stark's daughter, but she fought hard enough to separate the North from the other realms. She was the woman who freed all the men from the tyranny of southern kings and open rebellions. Sansa wasn't given anything, she earned it. And that made it so much harder for the few jealous men of Westeros to ban together in an attempt to usurp the throne. Her reputation put her above them, it made her untouchable and they couldn't stand to see a woman above them.

"Those still standing can wait in the cells of Castle Dreadfort" Sansa turned to a few of the knights next to her.

She ordered for two of those who already bent the knee to escort her men down to the cells to lock up those who refused to bend the knee. Sansa hoped that showing them mercy would be enough to change their minds, but a part of her knew that if it were really that easy, no one would put up a fight in the first place.

"People of Dreadfort. I see that you are tired. Tired of fighting, tired of starving, tired of the war. The North has been at war for many years now, and yet though all our enemies are dead, we're still fighting. Well I've come here today to tell you that you no longer have to fight. You no longer have to starve." Sansa began to speak courage in the men kneeling before her

"All I have ever wanted in being Queen was to ensure that the North remained a place that took care of its people. A realm that raised strong young men, and proper young girls. A realm that took care of the elderly and innocent. A united front that instilled fear in anyone who wished to take it from us. With your sworn fealty, we can ban together and restore this great castle to what it once was. Before death and betrayal."

The kneeling men looked up at Sansa beginning to feel motivated by her words. She sighed in relief of the people laying down their swords. The Hawk grumbled as he began to stir awake. As soon as he regained full consciousness he lunged forward trying to fight against his restraints. The rope tying him to the tree was too tight to be broken through, still he continued to fight

"Your little reign is over." Sansa told him.

The man began to laugh hysterically, a few drops of blood splurged from his mouth and collided with his blonde beard. As Sansa took a few steps back from the man in hopes to prevent his blood from staining her dress. Faran crept up behind her. Her axe swung back and forth at her side, as her eyes zeroed in on the dying man. She wanted to make sure he didn't croak before she had the chance to split his head in half.

"My reign?" He laughed. "I never wanted to rule. That Bolton bastard promised me Dreadfort if I could kill you before you arrived here"

"What bastard?" Sansa froze.

"Roose Bolton's other son"

He flashed one last evil grin at the queen. Sansa took a few more steps backwards as if someone was lunging towards her. That someone resembled a man she hoped to forget, a man who even in death could still find ways to haunt her through name

"It's time for a new name in the North" He continued now breaking out into another bloody coughing fit.

Sansa turned to Faran, she nodded her head giving the woman permission to finish them off. Faran stepped forward smiling wide, grinning from ear to ear. She planted her feet firmly into the dirt before lifting the sword up high. Blood splattered all over her face and clothes as the sword split his head open. She stared at the mushy pink and red mixture that formed in the gash. His brain was split in two with a few of the chunks spilling out of his dome as his limp body fell to the ground. She continued to smile as his limp corpse while most of the other knights turned away in disgust of the sight.

Sansa fought the fear of the Bolton name being brought back to life. Their existence resurrected like the fallen soldiers at the Battle of Winter. The muffle in her ear began to fade as she slowly returned from the depths of her own internal fear. She gave Brienne and Podrick an order to find the women in the dungeon and to bring them up into the castle. Whatever men were down there with them weren't going to see the light of day again. Sansa tried to keep her attention on what the knights had to say but the loud tired grunts coming from Faran were too distracting. The wildling girl was now swinging her axe up and down repeatedly, connecting with the limp body of the dead man. His body jolted upwards as if it still retained some life everytime she pounded the blade into his flesh The rest of the men in Dreadfort watched with great horror in their eyes as they closed their eyes and prayed for mercy from the Old Gods.

Chapter Text

When the Lord Commander opened her eyes this morning all she could see was red. The bushy morning tossed ends of Sansa's hair would often find its way in Brienne's mouth throughout the night, but she never minded. She was surprised to see that her Queen was still in bed. Sansa was typically an early riser especially being that she ran an entire kingdom now. Often she would find her brushing her hair, or sewing together a new outfit, or stuffing her face with fruits before rushing off to fulfill her duties. But there she laid, sound asleep in the warm semi-cozy unfamiliar bed of Castle Dreadfort Brienne kissed the girl on the cheek before rolling out of bed and dressing immediately. There was a lot to do in Dreadfort today, especially if they hoped to arrive at Last Hearth soon.

Brienne wandered through the castle in search of the dining chambers. Although the castle was much smaller than Castle Winterfell, it still was foreign to the Lord Commander. Most of the men she passed were men of Wintefell. Although a decent portion of the 'Hawks' army had bent the knee, Sansa didn't feel secure in letting them roam the castle freely just yet. She knew that anyone who valued their lives above honor would bend the knee. So these men would have to work to prove their true loyalty to the Queen.

Brienne turned the corner revealing herself to the men still eating their soup. They all rose greeting their Lord Commander, Brienne dismissed them as soon as she began to feel her cheeks heat up. She readjusted her armor before confidently continuing her stride towards the bowls. Once her bowl was filled with the hot steamy onion scented soup she joined the men at the table. Ser Bael, Ser Craig, Ser, Galvin, Podrick, all sat together resuming their loud chatter once Brienne sat down.

"Good Morning, Lord Commander" Podrick spoke. Then a few more followed until everyone had said it.

"Good morning lads" Brienne replied before filling her mouth.

Brienne stuffed her face with food in attempts to fill her belly with as much food as possible before their day began. The men all watched from the corner of their eyes, trying not to offend their Lord as they chuckled at the sight. They were shocked to see how sloppily the woman ate.

"The Lord Commander has never been a tidy eater," Podrick commented.

This caused the men's laughter to rise in volume, Going from a snicker to a gut twisting laugh. Their chuckles distracted Brienne from the trance her morning hunger growl sent her into. She began to chuckle too, now noticing the several drops of creamy soup that missed her mouth rested at the edge of her chin and on her chest plate.

"How does a highborn Lady grow up to be as sloppy as you" Ser Galvin was the next to joke with her.

"Oh shut up. I've told you all, I may be a highborn, but I've never been a lady" Brienne spoke. "Enough about me anyways, are you all prepared for today. There's much to be done"

"Where's the Queen?" Ser Bael looked over his shoulder.

"Still in her sleeping chambers I suppose" Brienne replied shortly. She didn't want to discuss the whereabouts of the Queen from a non-professional perspective.

Faran entered the dining chambers with two women alongside her. They must've been other freefolk she knew before escaping this place. The three placed their soup bowls onto the table quite far from Sansa's men before sitting down. After finishing her meal quickly, she rose to her feet and joined them at the other side of the hall. She stood over their table feeling somewhat awkward at the way they all fell silent in her presence.

"Um... Brienne?" Faran looked at the blonde.

"That's Ser Brienne to you" Ser Galvin interrupted.

"I'll cut your balls off if you speak of that proper talk to me again" She grabbed a knife from what appeared to be out of thin air.

Brienne lifted her from the bench of the table and moved them to the outskirts of the dining room. Faran inquired about the whereabouts of the Queen. She wanted to speak with Sansa in regards to the freefolk women from the dungeon and the crypts. Although they now outnumbered those who preyed on their inferior strength, they didn't feel safe with their attackers roaming about the castle. Even if they did swear fealty to the Queen, it didn';t erase what some of them had done. Faran wanted their heads and judging by the look on her face, Brienne feared the fate of these men was slipping from the hands of the Queen.

"Listen Faran, I understand-" Brienne tried to calm her but was cut off.

"Do you?" She raised the question in a doubtful tone.

"Look, I may be large. But I'm still a woman. Once I was captured by a large grouping of men. I imagine them having their way with me would've brought more satisfaction to their egos than four women combined" Brienne tried to emphasize with her. "I may not get it entirely, but trust me, the Queen will hear you complaints"

Faran didn't want to admit it, but she was starting to like Brienne and her Queen. She was raised to believe that all people born south the wall were inherently bad. The highlords being the worst of them all. but the Queen and her knight have done nothing but keep their promises to her. Faran nodded, feeling contemptuous as she agreed to adhere to Brienne's advice on waiting. The Lord Commander let out a deep sigh allowing her muscles to relax for more than a moment.

"Can I ask you something? I'm not quite sure how to word it without being rude so bare with me..." Faran looked at Brienne.

"Go on" Brienne braced herself for vulgar language.

"Is it true you're not allowed to fuck women here?" Faran raised a brow. "I mean like women doing other women."

"Oh um... yeah. Men with men . . . women with woman . . . It's all ... frowned up here" Brienne replied.

"So I take it you and the Queen have just been bumping your asses together at night?" Faran joked.

"What- why would you say such a thing?" Brienne's face scrunched up at the vulgar talk.

Faran let out a loud laugh that echoed through the halls. The sound sent a weird feeling into Brienne's stomach, and then a smile grew on her face. Faran's laughter was unheard of to Brienne, and it made her happy to see that the girl was getting more comfortable even if she was a little too vulgar for Brienne's taste from time to time.

"It's also against tradition to defile a woman before marriage" Brienne stiffened at the thought of dishonoring Sansa.

"So how will you marry the Queen?" Her head tilted.

"You're asking a lot of questions, sure you don't want to join us?" Brienne smirked.

"I'm sure. Now answer the question" Faran straightened up.

"What do you think? She's the Queen, a Queen can do whatever she pleases" Brienne shrugged.

"Why not just be freefolk? Don't need to be a Queen to do whatever you please" Faran scorfed.

"That's exactly why I follow Sansa. She wishes for all of the North to live somewhat like the freefolk." Brienne spoke proudly.

Speaking of her fire haired lover, Brienne could tell she was approaching based on the way all the knights in the hall stopped in their tracks. Their metal clanged against each other as they stiffened their backs, lifted their heads, and parted ways creating a path for the Queen to walk through. Sansa strutted down the hallway in a long green and black gown, her crown sat glistening in the light as she bounced up and out of it with every stride. As she walked in between Brienne and Faran she greeted them, just before pulling Faran away to private quarters. Not before gently and secretly brushing her fingertips against the hand of the Lord Commander. Sansa turned to face the dining chambers to assess who was still eating.

"I know, I was a little late in rising this morning but that doesn't give you all an excuse to sit knitting by the fire. There must be other things you could be doing apart from filling your bellies" Sansa scowled.

The once laughter filled room was now silent. The only noise filling it was the creaks of the wobbling wooden table created by the men who jolted away from it. The men lifted their bowls and stacked them in one area. That way the servants wouldn't have to work too hard cleaning up after them them. Ser Galvin, Ser Bael, Ser Tiberius, Ser Bjorn, Podrick, and a few other knights now stood still with their hands at their waist awaiting orders.

"Lord Commander, have you completed your morning task?" Sansa now turned her glare to Brienne.

"Not yet, Your Grace. My apologies, I was simply waiting for the remainder of the Queensguard to finish their meals" Brienne responded quickly.

"Need I remind you, we have plenty to do today. I expect my Queensguard to be at my side awaiting orders within the next inch of the sun's movement" Sansa spoke as she continued to exit the corridors with Faran.

Brienne turned to face the men with an angry look on her face. She couldn't believe their slowness had gotten her in trouble with the Queen. Brienne barked orders at the men, demanding that they pick up the pace and move outside of the west wall of the castle. She called for Ser Craig and Ser Mathew awaiting to have the entirety of the Queensguard at her side. Once they began to move in a line outside of the castle Podrick began to lag behind. The boy grew too envious from lingering around men who had everything he ever dreamed of. The Queensguard is the goal of any knight, and yet Pod is still just a squire.

"Podrick, keep up. You're tagging along too" Brienne shouted towards him.

"Yes, Lord Commander" He sulked as he turned back into the line.

Once Brienne had all of the men she needed, they moved outwards. Brienne had a surprise for Podrick, something that everyone but him knew of. The boy had been begging Brienne to knight him and the day has finally come. The knights formed a circle, all snickering as they took a peek at Podrick's very confused expression. Brienne moved to the center of the circle the men had formed, preparing to speak.

"Alright men, today is a day of celebration. Yes we have just recaptured the Dreadfort, but that is not why I called upon you here today" Brienne began to smile. "Podrick Payne, get over here lad"

Podrick's eyes shifted between Brienne and the other knights surrounding them. A small but nervous grin began to grow across the young man's face, as what was about to happen finally started to set in. Brienne drew her long sword signaling for Podrick to kneel in front of her. The rest of the men drew their swords, pierced it into the ground before kneeling. Their heads remained upwards as their eyes were glued to the ceremony. Podrick quickly got down on one knee and looked up at Brienne with great joy in his eyes. The two of them had shared so many memories together that this was an emotional moment for them both. Brienne began to speak the same words Jamie spoke just before the Long Night began. Podrick swore to uphold every oath all the knights of Westeros swore during their knighting.

"Then arise, Ser Podrick Payne, a knight of the Northern realm" Brienne finalized the arrangement before cheering with the rest of them.

While Brienne and the rest of the men walked back to the castle grounds in smiles and cheers, Sansa requested that the servants of the castle go and prepare one of the great halls. Sansa and Faran had discussed the best way to speak to the Dreadfort, especially being that their majority was now made up of freefolk women. The Queen wanted to do more than simply listen to their concerns, she wanted to do something about them, work to better their living conjugations from this moment on.

Sansa sat in a wooden chair behind a six-foot long table with her fingers interlocked and her hands placed neatly in the center. As she began to grow impatient waiting for her army and the Lord Commander she thought of things she would say to them about keeping her waiting. She was forced to hold back her excitement about Podrick being knighted in attempts to not play favorites. It didn't help that the Queen was also in love with the woman she put in charge of her Queensgauerd either. But Sansa remembered that despite their relationship, this was a position Brienne had earned fair and square. Afterall, she was the strongest living knight in all of Westeros. A wild red-headed woman pounded her bare feet into the ground as she walked into the room. Sansa watched her with a raised brow, sitting in a small pool fear, as tried to anticipate the words of the woman.

"Your people aren't very punctual" She complained.

"They're probably celebrating Podricks knighting" Sansa ignored her complaint.

"Right, some fat faced southern prick becomes a knight and now my people have to wait even longer to beg for a roof over their headsFaran rolled her eyes.

"You're quite demanding for a woman in need" Sansa couldn't help but revert back to her snippy self.

"I've never been a needy woman" Faran spoke through gritted teeth before beginning to storm out the room.

"Faran, wait! I apologize, just please give me a moment to show you that I truly care" Sansa spoke now on her feet too.

Just as Faran turned back to face Sansa, the meeting chambers suddenly flooded with knights, commoners, and freefolk. Faran joined a small fragile looking woman in the line that formed just before the table. The knights formed lines along the sides of the wall standing tall and firm in their place. A small smile grew in the corner of Sansa's lips as she noticed a very well suited up Podrick holding his head high in extreme confidence.

"Your Grace, I took the initiative to bring the people down." Brienne stopped in formation at the front of the table.

"A word, Lord Commander." Sansa motioned her finger for Brienne to come around the table.

Brienne climbed the four steps that stood between the two of them and walked around the table. She bent down so her ear would be just beside the Queen's lips.

"I take it Podrick's knighting went well" Sansa smirked.

"Aye, Your Grace. We'll talk more tonight" Brienne nodded before returning to the bottom of the step.

The Queen stood from her chair before clearing her throat in preparation to address the people.. This was only the third or fourth time Sansa ever had to do something like this and typically she had a few more people by her side. Sometimes being the Queen grows lonesome, even if you do have control over all the people of the realm. Control isn't the same thing as friendship or sisterhood.

"Greetings, everyone. I'm very glad you all could make it down to voice your complaints and concerns about residing in the Dreadfort. I know this has taken longer than some of you would have liked, but we're here now and the floor is open to you all" Sansa grinned before returning to her seat.

The first person to speak was a young woman dressed in the easily recognizable Wilding fur. She took a few small steps forward before being joined by other Wilding women in support. The woman in the center was now on her knees, her brown hair flung forward as she bowed her head. When her eyes connected with the Queens, the woman looked as if she had just God right then and there.

"Thank you for saving us, Sansa" The woman smiled softly.

Sansa's eyes diverted to Brienne as soon as her name fell out of the woman's mouth. It truly bothered Brienne and other men in the Queensguard to hear people address the Queen informally. But Brienne tried to understand that not only does Sansa have a special relationship with the wildings, but the freefolk weren't used to having to address highborns.

"There's no need to thank me, please tell us your name" Sansa responded.

"Wren"

"You will address the Queen as You Grace" Brienne commanded loudly. Her voice echoed sending fright into some of the recently fragile women.

"Brienne." Sansa whispered loud enough for just Brienne to hear.

"Your Grace works fine, Wren" She sent a warm smile to the wman

"Right, sorry. I just- I just wanted to know what will happen to the women brought here by force, Your Grace" She cowered.

"I've thought this over carefully. Many of your kind have already chosen to remain in Winterfell after the Long Night. That being said, although I wish I could, there simply isn't enough room in the castle to house you. But, I have a plan to restore the condition of Dreadfort, maybe make it even better" Sansa replied to the woman.

"And what of the men who did nothing but treat us like whores" Wren grew slightly angry.

"Those men have been dealt with. Every man that was caught in the crypts and dungeons did not return from those dark places" Sansa replied.

"What of the ones sitting in the room right now, or the ones locked in the dungeon refusing to bend the knee"

"That situation is a bit more delicate. It requires more time for thought but I can assure you it will be dealt with" Sansa tried her best to please the woman.

She turned with her head hanging low, the woman locked eyes with a knight towards the back end of the line. His facial expression was smug, and his grin exposed a gloating energy of getting away with evil. Sansa didn't have a soft place anywhere in her body for men like this. Other freefolk women stepped forward, inquiring about the whereabouts of some family, if it would be safe for them to stay in Dreadfort, directions on how to get back to the wall. All this talk of the Dreadfort being an unsafe place for women, especially freefolk gave Sansa an idea. The Queen was never one to make impulsive decisions, but she recognized when things were sinking and in desperate need of her intervention

"Wren, can you come forward again please" Sansa waved her hand for the freefolk woman to come.

"Can you tell me a little bit about Faran and her efforts to help you all" Sansa inquired.

"After losing her all of her family, apart from her son during the Long Night. Faran was the one who took care of us on our journey South. There were so many sick women and small children. She went to great lengths to acquire medicine, warm clothing, fresh food and drinking water. One night some of the men from here found us and brought us back to that yellow haired cunt. He killed Faran's boy first, then he killed mine, then I started to lose track. When Faran escaped she promised us help, I never imagined she'd return with the Queen in the North though. " Wren explained.

"That just goes to show what a great leader she is, has she always been this way?"

"Wren hasn't known Faran long, but we grew up together. I can assure you, she's always been in charge of keeping people alive and well, Your Grace" Another freefolk woman joined in.

"Faran, will you please come forward as well" Sansa looked in the crowd of people.

Her bushy fiery hair moved through the small cluster of people. She placed her hands on the chest of a few men in her path, shoving them backwards harshly so she could continue to walk. The Queen couldn't help but chuckle slightly in amusement at Faran's defiant behavior.

"These women speak very highly of you" Sansa spoke.

"Thank you for that, Your Grace. I hadn't notice my ears stopped working" Faran scoffed.

"Well, allow me to elaborate on that statement. Since these women think so highly of you, I've decided you're going to be the new Lady of the Dreadfort." Sansa smirked.

"What?" Faran sounded shocked.

The audience gasped at the Queen's new order. The thought of someone born outside Northern territory, now ruling a castle in the North of was a foreign concept to them all. And to the freefolk the idea of ruling over anything was unheard of.

"To ensure the strength and safety of freefolk women here in the North. From here on out the Dreadfort will be a place where only women reside. I'll be sure to send ravens to every castle, that way all the freefolk women who wish to live amongst each other know to come to you. All the men here currently will move on to Last Hearth with me and my army" Sansa began to speak to the entire room.

"You will need to find a way to further your bloodline eventually. With that being said I shall grant you whatever time you need deem necessary to figure that out,"

Faran was in shock, she couldn't think of anything to say. Sansa closed the meeting immediately after announcing her new order. There were no more complaints about the quality of the Dreadfort because Sansa had just flipped the castle on its head. Brienne watched the people empty the great hall as she stood by the door waiting to close it behind them. The men of the Queensguard, Faran, and Sansa were the only ones left in the hall.

"Lady Faran, please hear me clearly when I say this. I need the Dreadfort to be stronger than ever. This is the home of the Boltons. When the trueborn son of Roose Bolton does finally reveal himself, I suspect his first move will be to come here. You must prepare every woman here in the castle for that day. Find as many freefolk women you need to ensure that it doesn't" Sansa spoke to her fellow red haired friend.

"Your Grace, I-I don't know how to be a Lady" Faran admitted honestly.

"Don't worry, I'll show you"

Chapter Text

The Queen had been in Dreadfort since the beginning of the moon cycle, and now that they were a quarter of the way through it, her business here finally came to a close. Sansa hadn't been feeling the best lately, for the two days the girl grew heavily afflicted with sweats, and unexpected dizzy spells. Occasionally one would hear the Queen coughing, as they passed by the closed door of the chambers she stayed in. To which of course worried those closest to her. She insisted that she would be fine and that after catching up on some much needed rest, she'd be fit to travel to Last Hearth.

Brienne was out on the battlegrounds swinging her sword around with a mixture of Dreadfort men and freefolk women, All who lacked who seemingly lack the skill to wield a weapon properly. Being that the Queen spent more time than planned in the Dreadfort, the men and women found subtle ways to co-exist until their inevitable departure, The rest of the footsoldiers and a few men of the Queensguard were tasked with making sure the freefolk women were housed, figuring out who had experienced in crafting, cooking, and the other necessary elements to keep this castle running strong. Just as Brienne was about to bring her sword down she noticed Faran was watching from the top of the stairs.

"I'd like to train with you," Faran suggested.

Brienne's arms fell back by her side before she slipped her sword back into her weapon belt. She dismissed the few people who came to her for training so she could begin to spar with the newly appointed Lady. Faram disappeared into her castle for a few seconds before returning to the top of the stairwell with her infamous axe in hand. She moved rather quickly down the steps, causing her to miss one and lose her balance. Faran grunted as her bones collided with the wooden steps as she tumbled all the way down the flight. Brienne looked away so she wouldn't be seen laughing at the now angry woman.

"Fucking hell. You highborns and your tall fancy castles" She cursed while rubbing her back.

"I had my fair share of falls too, never been in the snow until a couple years back." Brienne turned to Faran.

"A land without snow, where are you from?" Faran inquired while sitting on a barrel next to the sparring grounds.

"I'm from an island called Tarth. It's east of the mainland in the southern region. It's mainly composed of grass and sand. And the sun. it'll blister your skin if you stay outside too long" Brienne explained while moving towards her.

"Sand?" Faran asked.

"I'm not quite sure how to describe it, Lady Faran. Maybe you'll have to go to Tarth one" Brienne said.

"I can't believe people are calling me a Lady" Faran chuckled.

"The Queen sees something in you" Brienne spoke simply. "So do I"

"Hey, I- I want to thank you. Seriously, I appreciate you both. Probably more thanI'll ever be able to say" Faran grabbed Brienne's arm.

"Are we becoming friends?" Brienne joked. Sometimes Brienne felt awkward with people being overly gracious to her.

"You'd like that wouldn't you, woman lover" Faran poked Brienne's side with the end of the axe.

"Excuse me, I don't love women. I love Sansa" Brienne laughed, swatting at the end of the axe. "There's a slight difference"

"Yeah, I'm sure she's the first," Faran responded sarcastically.

Brienne's mind wandered back to Moira and the painful memories of that stage in life. Faran could tell she struck a sore spot to which she apologized. Brienne shrugged it off and drew her sword.

"You said you wanted to train" Brienne held the weapon out at Faran.

"Can you fight against an axe with that?" Faran gestured her weapon at her sword.

"It's Valyrian Steel" Brienne replied.

"So's mine" Faran grinned now spinning the handle in her hand.

Faran swung her axe at Brienne's armored core almost connecting with it. Brienne looked at Faran in shock of her unorganized sparring methods. But Brienne was intrigued by the idea of fighting in an unorthodox manner. Brienne and Faran went at it for what felt like hours. All of Farans hefty strikes weren't able to connect and neither were Brienne's swift ones. They both admired the difference in their fighting style, leaving them slightly curious to learn more about the other. Their last strike connected so hard that both their weapons flew out of their hands. Just as they reached to pick them up, Ser Galvin called out to Brienne.

"Lord Commander, a word please" Ser Galvin stood tall.

Brienne picked up her sword and put it back in its sheath while moving towards Ser Galvin. She breathed in and out deeply through her nose trying to steady her breath so she could focus on the knights words. Brienne let Faran know that they would continue their sparring later before walking off with Ser Galvin completely.

"All tasks have been completed. All the freefolk women are settled. We've sent half our army with the Dreadfort men to Last Hearth. They have a healer or a Maester of some sort. Plus a few know how to forge weapons and armor. They are very aware of how to do these things, just not quite like us" Ser Galvin reported.

"That's quite alright, I don't think the Dreadfort will ever be anything like us" Brienne smirked.

"That's probably for the best," Her replied. "How's the Queen?"

"I haven't seen her since sunrise. She won't allow me back in" Brienne sounded defeated.

"Our Queen is one tough womanl" Ser Galvin chuckled at the thought. "Maybe Podrick and I can have a look at her?"

"It's worth a try. I just want to make sure she's getting better" Brienne replied.

"As for our men, should I instruct them to begin packing our things or should I just wait for your command." Ser Galvin inquired.

"You can tell them to ready the gear, supplies, and horses. I'm going to attempt to speak with the Queen again" Brienne commanded him.

The Lord Commander traveled up the stairs of the castle wandering around for the room the Queen was staying in. Two knights sat outside of the room and the end of the hallway, where the Queen must've been relocated. As Brienne approached the door the knights stepped forward blocking her path.

"You do not have permission to enter" One knight spoke.

"I must get orders from the Queen on how to proceed. Our job here in the Dreadfort is through" Brienne argued.

"We are the only two that can enter. State your concerns here" The men continued to ignore her request.

Brienne grew angry with the men refusing to let her in. She was concerned for her love. Sansa would never keep Brienne from her unless she was trying to hide something. That's what frustrated Brienne. Her face turned red and she drew her sword holding it out towards the men.

"Let me in to see her, now" Brienne warned them.

The men looked back and forth nervously. The knight on the left was the first to draw his sword. The thin piece of metal shook in the air as a very angry Brienne towered over both of them men. Just as Brienne was about to swing her sword, an unusually pale Sansa stumbled to the door. She was still dressed in nightgown, coughing up a storm.

"Enough, just- let her in" Sansa could barely cough up.

Brienne quickly placed the sword back into its sheath while pushing through the puny knights that stood in her way. She grabbed the Queen by the waist and helped her walk back towards the bed. Her eyes scanned Sansa's body as if she knew what she was looking for. Brienne couldn't help but panic at the condition of her lover, she couldn't understand how she could have possibly fallen ill so fast.

"My love, you should've called upon me earlier" Brienne stressed now moving to the washroom.

She grabbed a fresh cloth from the cart and ran it underneath the cool water streaming from the sink before returning to the room. Brienne leaded over Sana's, placing the cool rag on her forehead gently.

"You're far too stubborn. You... you swore to obey the Queen's command" Sansa spoke softly.

"Please don't lecture me, my love. I promise I'll hear it later . . . when you're feeling better" Brienne sat at her bedside.

"I'll be alright, it's just a cough" Sansa tried to convince Brienne.

"Has the Maester seen you yet?" Brienne inquired.

"There is no maester here, just healers from beyond the wall" Sansa spoke.

"I'll have someone fetch them then" Brienne rose to her feet.

Sansa grabbed Brienne's arm, her body hurled forward as she practically coughed up one of her longs. The sound of Sansa's violent hacking sent an unnerving feeling through the Lord Commander's body. Brienne sat back down now rubbing circles into the girls back slowly. Her face scrunched up as she felt unusual marks through the clothing on Sansa's backside. Brienne asked Sansa to remove her top to which of course she worked up the breath to reply with something both humorous and flirtatious. Once she finally lifted the blouse, Brienne found herself speechless at the sight. Tiny purple like bumps grew all over the girls back. Brienne checked to see if it had spread anywhere else, which looked like a no for now. She covered the girl back up and without saying a word she opened the bedroom door commanding the knights to look for the best healer in Dreadfort.

"Bri, what did you see?" Sansa asked.

"Something I've never seen before" Brienne responded, still waiting by the door.

After what felt like hours but was truly only a few minutes passed, one of the freefolk women entered the room with a small bag attached to her hip. She placed her things on the end table beside the before looking at Sansa. The woman placed the back of her hand just above the girl's forehead then reached in her bag for some herbs to feed the Queen. Next she had Sansa roll onto her side so she could examine the marks on her back. The woman paused for a moment, she stared at the bumps before pulling out a small wooden stick to poke at them.

"You don't recognize these marks ?" The woman questioned Brienne.

Brienne answered truthfully, she didn't think anyone in all of Westeros had seen anything like this.

"Must be something North of the Wall then. We call in baby blues because it usually only shows in children. It used to take babies out within a few days of the outbreak. Now when a child catches it, it's almost like having a runny nose. I think our people may have grown some sort of tolerance to it. I'm afraid our Queen is not so lucky" The healer explained to both Brienne and Sansa.

Brienne could feel her chest begin to rise and fall rapidly. The thought of losing her love this early was something she dreaded. She took a few deep breaths trying to settle her rising heartbeat and clear her mind so that she could be useful in finding a way to save the Queen.

"How do we cure her?" Brienne asked.

"She's going to need milk of the poppy as well as the crushed pedals from an Echinacea" She replied.

"A what?" Brienne inquired.

"It's a flower that grows beyond the wall" She looked at Brienne worrily.

Brienne immediately began to grab all of Sansa's things. She forcefully stuffed anything she could get her hands on into her traveling chest. Sansa called out to her love repeatedly, trying to get her to calm down and think about things.

"What is your name?" Sansa asked the woman.

"Reeve," She replied sweetly.

"Thank you, Reeve. Would you mind giving us-" Sansa began to cough. "Would you mind giving us a moment while you locate some milk of the poppy"

Reed grabbed her things from the bedside table and just like that she was gone. Sansa shook vigorously as she stood on her feet. She reached out to Brienne begging for her to slow down.

"My love, please slow down" Sansa pleaded.

Brienne couldn't help but be triggered by her girlfriend's tone of voice. She sounded so ill, so defeated, like she needed Brienne to help her. Brienne closed up Sansa's chest before moving beside her to help her keep balance.

"We're going to your carriage now," Brienne insisted.

"What for?" Sansa questioned.

"To get you the herbs you need. We're going as far north as north goes if that's what needs to happen" She replied.

Sansa stopped dead in her tracks. With whatever little energy she had left, she used it to stand against Brienne.

"No, we must move to Last Hearth" Sansa turned to head back into her chambers.

"What, no. You'll die if we don't take you beyond the wall immediately. I'm sending the men back to Winterfell" Brienne argued.

"I said no!" Sansa raised her voice.

The redhead began to cough once more, this time more aggressive than the last. She nearly fainted from the amount of energy she was exuding whilst arguing with Brienne

"Sansa, I'm not asking you" Brienne reached to grab the girl but she moved.

"Bri-" Sansa tried to appeal to her once more but was cut off.

"If you don't let me help you, Sansa. I'll be forced to abandon my position as Lord Commander" Brienne spoke very seriously.

"You really mean that?" Sansa looked at her love angrily. "Fine, send Ser Galvin in on your way out"

Brienne aided the woman back to her bed before storming out of the room. There was practically smoke steaming from both her nostrils and ears. She paced through the halls, down the stairs, and into the sparring corridors. That's where Ser Galvin and Lady Faran were having it out during their sparring session.

"Ser Galvin, please go see the Queen at once" Brienne spoke while drawing her sword.

She repeatedly struck one of the sparring dummies. The wood and straw stripped away with each blow it received from the reforged version of Oathkeeper. She wailed as tears began to fall from her eyes out of frustration. The last blow was thrown improperly, causing her sword to repel out of her hands. Brienne looked at the sword, watching all of the memories it had stored in it come back to life.

"You alright?" Faran spoke after watching the whole thing.

"The Queen is going to die" Brienne gritted through her teeth.

"What?" Faran moved closer to Sansa.

Brienne couldn't cough up another word, she began to feel her chest tighten and her breathing shorten. Lady Faran placed her axe down before taking off after Ser Galvin to see what was happening. Brienne reached for the buckle on her backside, she pulled on it harshly causing a piece of her armor to fall out of place. She ripped open the other side with her head tilted high, gasping for air. The Lord Commander sat on the ground for several minutes breathing in and out. She heard movements and orders being shouted throughout the castle but she was more focused on returning to her sanity.

"Where's the Lord Commander?" A man shouted from within the castle.

"Someone fetch the Lord Commander!"

"Lord Commander, the Queen!"

Brienne's head shot up at the word Queen like a wolf searching for food in the woods. Within a strike of lightning Brienne was back on her feet running towards the men calling her name. The shouts now were coming from the front gates of the castle. Brienne quickly weaved through the small
gaps between the lower level castle wall and the columns holding it all up. When she finally reached the front gates, she noticed Ser Galvin was carrying the Queen into her carriage. The rest of the people in Dreadfort watched in fear and confusion. You could feel the genuine concern they had for the Queen.

"What's happening?" Brienne panicked.

"The Queen's lost consciousness. We must move now!" Ser Galvin responded while closing the carriage door.

"Alright" Brienne replied.

Podrick rushed over to Brienne's backside helping her restrap her armor quickly. Being that the men had already started setting up to move, some of the horses including the Queens were ready.

"Ser Galvin!" Brienne called out to the man.

"Yes, Lord Commander" He responded while moving back to her side.

"You must take everyone else to Last Hearth, the Queensguard and all the knights. Upon your arrival send a raven to Winterfell. Tell the Hand she must come to Last Hearth immediately. The Queen would like her realm intact and we are going to ensure that happens. Have her leave someone suitable in charge of Winterfell while she's gone. Do not leave Last Hearth until the castle is strong enough to fight off the Hawk. The future of the realm is in your hands, Ser Galvin." Brienne instructed.

"As you wish, Lord Commander" He bowed just before rushing to give the men orders.

Brienne climbed off the horse and disconnected the carriage. If she was going to get the Queen anywhere fast she was going to have to lose extra cargo. The carriage door flew open, revealing a still unconscious Sansa. Brienne lifted the girl up, handing her to a knight nearby. Brienne remounted the horse and began to strap herself in partially. The knight hoisted Sansa up in front of Brienne, to which she finished strapping them both down. She wrapped her left arm around the girl tightly, while her right held onto the reins of the horse.

Brienne commanded that the knights open the gates immediately. She checked the horse's satchel for things like food and water before gently kicking the backside of the horse. He took a few steps forward stopping at the gate that was still being pulled open. Brienne looked out to the Dreadfort once more, her eyes connected with Lady Farans.

"Safe travels!" She shouted.

Brienne nodded, kicking the horse once more. This time the horse dashed through the gates and out into the woods of the North. Brienne tightened her already firm grip on the girl, afraid she would lose her with all the jolts coming from the movement of the horse.

"You're going to be alright, my love." Brienne whispered. "I swear"

Chapter Text

Brienne had been fighting to keep Sansa alive for days now. The horse held out for a while, running as fast it could before inevitably tiring. Occasionally they'd come to a complete stop, that way both her and the horse could stay somewhat hydrated. And everytime she sat by the river watching the horse drink from it. Brienne couldn't help but wonder if this would be the break that killed the love of her life. It was hard to recognize where the wall used to be, when the dragon was resurrected it spit frozen fire that seemingly burned it down entirely. Luckily the debris of the wall still remained. Small and sportaic piles of stone stuck out of the ground signaling to Brienne that they had finally arrived. Although spring was practically here, the further North you went the more snow still remained. The two were not prepared for snow in the slightest, but Brienne did her best to worry about the things she could control.

Brienne commanded the horse past the remains of the wall, crossing into a realm the two had never been in. For the first several miles, the place was a ghost town. Nothing but piles of bones buried underneath more bones and houses that caved in from the pressure of the dead army that marched south. Brienne wondered how they were going to find anything in a place like this, where no one and nothing could be found. Regardless the two pushed through the light flurry weather.

The blonde's eyes diverted to Sansa who had barely regained consciousness since their departure from the Dreadfort. Brienne found her ear pushed up against the girl's chest every few minutes, and thankfully every time there was still a heartbeat. She hoped she would run into Jon, or Tormund, someone who knew their way around. Hell Brienne didn't even know what the medicinal herbs looks like. The more she sat in silence the more she was forced to accept that they might as well have been stranded out here.

Brienne gently tapped the backside of the horse trying to get it to speed up but it wouldn't. It couldn't. The horse continued to trot through the snow at an exhausting pace. Brienne looked around frantically for some sort of river, or area where they could sit for a minute but all there was was mountains, debris and snow.

"We're almost there, my love. Just a little while longer." Brienne spoke to the Queen when really she was trying to convince herself

They continued through the snow for miles and miles. The horse was beginning to stumble, clearly exhausted from its long journey. Brienne stopped contemplating on whether or not they should abandon the horse. They'd be slower on foot, but at least she could put his meat to good use. As the horrifying reality of silence dawned on Brienne once more, her ears perked at the sound of water sloshing. She looked around, finally spotting a stream for her and the horse to drink from. She dismounted the horse, secured the queen, and placed a hand on her back as they made their way to the river. The horse immediately trotted to the river, lowering its head to take several sips of water.

Brienne grabbed the canteen from the horse's saddle and held it against the current of the stream. She practically drinks the whole thing dry before splashing it back in the water to refill it for the Queen. Brienne held Sansa's head up trying to get to wake so she could drink some water. The girl would stir awake for a few minutes, unable to do anything but drink water. The Queen took a few sips just before passing out once more. Brienne didn't need to touch the girl's head to feel the fever anymore, just being near her was enough to tell Briene they were running out of time.

The silence grew loud again, as Brienne rested anxiously trying to give the horse time to regain some strength. Brienne took a peek inside the saddle contemplating whether or not she should eat their last piece of bread. The Queen hadn't eaten anything, and Brienne was practically famished herself. She took a few tiny bites of the piece before stuffing it back into her bag. Just as Brienne was about to remount the horse, she heard a rustle in the woods.

She looked out into the forest behind the river, but she didn't see anything. She turned her attention back to the horse shaking her head from the delusions, exhaustion brought upon her. She reached up attempting to mount it once more when she heard the noise again. This time Brienne drew her sword looking for a way to cross the stream without getting wet. She found a broken plank next to one of the collapsed homes alongside the river and made a bridge of it. The closer she grew to the forest the more the noise would sound. She could tell something or someone was watching them and was trying to get away without alerting her. Brienne suddenly charged forward, revealing a young girl dressed in the thick furs of the freefolk.

"Who are you?"The girl cowered while holding out a small stick.

Brienne quickly put away her sword, she didn't want to scare the girl. She just prayed this girl wasn't the only one out here. She wore a hood over her head, covering her hair which braided all the strands into one thick braid poking from the bottom of her hood. The girl couldn't have had more than fourteen years of age.

"My name is Brienne of Tarth, and I need your help. Do you know a man named Jon, Jon Stark?" Brienne asked.

"Of course, everyone knows Jon." The girl nodded hesitantly..

"I have his sister. The Queen in the North. Sansa Stark. She's fallen fatally ill and we need to act now if we want to save her. Is there any way you could get me to him, ora healer of some sort" Brienne panicked.

"Jon resides in the Frostfangs, we're in the Haunted Forest. It will take some time to get to him, can your Queen make it?" The girl asked, looking at the unconscious Queen draped across the horse. "It doesn't look like it"

Brienne glanced over her shoulder practically caving in at the sight of her lover.

"Luckily we are on the east side of the forest. Which means we are close to Storrold's Point. They have healers, and many other things there" The girl suggested.

Brienne rushed back across the river to mount the horse. She helped the Queen sit back up by wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in tight. The horse trotted through the stream joining the young girl on the opposite side. Brienne looked down at the girl now pondering how she was going to accompany them on the horse. If she added anymore weight to this horse, it was going to give. But if she abandoned it now they'd have to travel on foot, which was definitely slower than using the horse.

"I'm sorry buddy, please hold out" Brienne whispered to the horse before extending a hand out to the young girl.

The girl took Brienne's hand and was hoisted into the air. She climbed onto the back side of the horse. Brienne instructed the girl to hold on to her waist before they traveled further east. When Brienne kicked the horse it took off faster than she expected it too, almost as if the horse could sense how emergent their situation was too. The three moved rapidly through the Haunted forest. The snow had stopped falling which was a huge help to Brienne being that the sun was beginning to set and they didn't have any materials for a fire.

"Forgive my lateness, but what is your name?" Brienne asked the girl.

"Oh, I'm Anya" She responded simply.

"How old are you, and where are your parents?" Brienne was shocked to see such a young girl on her own.

"I have twelve years. My father and mother were killed by wights. Same as almost any kid here. I live alone just outside Storrold's Point, "she continued.

"I'm sorry to hear that" Brienne paused. "Wait, why not just live in Storrold's Point" Brienne inquired.

"The people of Storrold's Point, they're quite . . . strange." The girl answered Brienne.

"What do you mean strange?"

"They're not normal people like us. A lot of them are wargs, or rogue priests. Some have greensight. All blessed, or to some, cursed by the Children of the Forest" Anya spoke to Brienne as if she had any clue on Northern magic.

"Like the three eyed raven?" Brienne remembered Brandon talking about something along these lines.

"Not quite"

Brienne gave up on trying to understand the words of the Northern girl. As weary as she was about the unknown details of their destination, she knew she had no choice if she wanted to save Sansa. They arrived at Storrold's Point just as the sun set for good tonight. Operating in the darkness was a scary concept for Brienne especially because they were foreigners. Anya promised to head into the town with them to ensure Sansa's safety. Brienne appreciated how the girl was willing to blow her cover for the two. The horse remained back at Anya's hut, where plenty of water and food was left for it. Brienne couldn't believe the horse was able to carry the three of them without collapsing. The three of them stood at the top of the mountain looking down at the well lit village. There were small huts plastered throughout a small area of cut down woods. Brienne held Sansa's backside up with her left arm and the girl's legs with her right. She adjusted the hold she had on the Queen before walking down the mountain with Anya.

Being that the village was open they were able to walk right inside the middle of it. Brienne was slightly worried by all the animal noises she heard. It sounded like they were coming from within the town. A bear growled from behind the curtains of one tent, while wolves howled behind the curtains of another.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" Brienne called out.

Curtains began to draw back quickly, revealing a decent quantity of hooded freefolk. They slowly exited their tents and crept closer to the three standing right in the middle of their town. The more of them that poured out of their tents the more Brienne, Sansa, and Anya were forced into the center. Eventually they were surrounded by very scary and curious looking eyes.

"Who are you?" A man asked while pushing his way through the crowd.

He was a tall man, taller than Brienne. He had small horns connected by a black string that hung around his neck. A big scar just above his eyebrow, and an aura that radiated danger. Brienne began to regret coming here, she wondered if either of them were making it out alive.

"Is that Sansa Stark?" The man's eyes grew as he looked at the unconscious girl.

"Yes, she needs your help," Brienne pleaded.

The man lifted Sansa out of Brienne's arms and took her into one of the huts in the village. Brienne and Anya followed closely behind. They watched as the man looked at her skin, analyzing the blue marks that had spread all over her body throughout their journey.

"I've never seen an adult up with baby blues. I'll have to call for a healer" The man rushed out of the tent.

"You hear that my love, he's gone to find someone. You're going to be feeling better in no time" Brienne kissed the girl's warm head.

The man returned with another man, one who looked a few years younger. He must've been around Brienne's age. He kneeled near the bed, waving some salts in a bag over the girl's nose. Sansa's eyes shot open, open wider than they've been in the past few days. The man then gave her a deep pinkish colored drink, then some milk of the poppy. As Brienne watched Sansa drink the medicine desperately she felt herself let out a deep sigh. Then the girl began to cough harshly, some of the medicine flying out of her mouth. Her eyes rolled to the back of head just as she began to shake violently. She went on like that for a while. . The two men tried their best to hold her down and keep her on the table. Eventually the girl lost consciousness again

"I'm sorry, but she won't make it through the rest of the night" He spoke looking at Brienne.

Chapter Text

Brienne laid very close to her lover all night. After pleading with the healers, and the big man to do more to save her for hours, she had exhausted herself. She knew the best thing she could do, the only thing to do, was lay beside her and wait patiently as she drew her last breaths. It killed Brienne to think about returning to Winterfell with the remains of their newly appointed Queen. She questioned if it even made sense to return. Maybe she would live out the rest of her years here, untroubled by bastards or Boltons. But she knew that Sansa wouldn't want that for her. The bumps had spread to the girl's face making it swell up to a point where she was far from recognizable. But Brienne could still see the beauty in her, the girl's face was etched into her mind.

The rest of the village allowed for Brienne to mourn in the tent alone. Hours had gone by, Sansa hung on by a threat as the rest of the community had drifted off to sleep. Anya returned to her hut promising to look after Brienne's horse to the best of her ability. The girl had little to no experience with horses, so Brienne imagined it would be dead by the time she returned but she didn't care. All she could think about was losing the love of her life.

"If I could take back my last words to you I would. Being both your lover and your Lord Commander was just too hard. How could you ask me to take you to Last Hearth knowing the cure to your illness was beyond the wall" Brienne raised her voice, now consumed with mixed emotions. "You asked me to let you die.."

Brienne began to break down crying. She grew overwhelmed with all of the struggles they faced. She placed her forehead on the bare arm of the girl in defeat. Her mind began to go blank and her tired eyes grew heavy. Brienne was seconds away from drifting into the darkness when someone pulled the curtains of the tent back. A woman with long black hair, dressed in a long black dress paired with a thick black hooded coat stood over them. When you paired her with darkness it almost looked as if she wasn't a woman at all but simply a figure, a shadow of black.. Brienne jumped back, she reached around frantically looking for her sword to cut down anyone who wished to steal the Queen's final moments of peace.

"Your sword will not work against me anyhow" The woman spoke in a deep voice.

She made her way further into the room, looking down at the Queens whose chest staggered as it rose and fell slowly.

"I just had to see it for myself. The perfect opportunity. I can't believe the Queen is here" She rolled up her sleeves and her hands over the girl. "And you... you're marvelous"

"The perfect opportunity for what?" Brienne inquired.

"Why, for saving" The woman replied with a grin.

She placed her hand on top of the face of the Queen. Brienne wanted to interject in fear of the woman harming the Queen, but then she noticed the swelling starting to go down. She looked back and forth between the woman and Sansa's face in shock. Once she removed her hand, Brienne rejoiced at the sight of her beautiful Quend face returning to normal.The swelling and marking on her face had vanished almost as if they'd never been there in the first place. Brienne rolled up the sleeves of the girls dress, revealing more blue bumps.

"Can you heal these too?" Brienne looked at the woman frantically.

"I can. I can save your Queen... for a price" The woman continued.

"Of course, whatever you desire" Brienne responded so fast that she immediately regretted it.

"Give me your hand." She reached out for Brienne.

The woman took a sharpened rock and cut a small gash into Brienne's palm. She winced at the slight pain and balled up her fist. The woman did the same thing to Sansa, then she pushed their hands together. As their blood mixed together Brienne wondered how this was supposed to help the Queen.

"Won't this make me sick too?" Brienne inquired.

"The Queen must've fallen ill many days ago, if you were going to catch it you would've already" The woman replied.

She moved her hands from the top of Sansa's head to the bottom of her feet, hovering over her. The bumps vanished as the woman moved along her body. Sansa was starting to look better by the minute. Brienne couldn't believe her eyes, she was so happy she thought of kissing the woman.

"What would you like in return, I mean it. I'll do anything" Brienne asked.

"You won't have to do a thing my dear. Except watch over them" She reached out brushing her fingers against Brienne's jaw.

"Over who?"

The woman grabbed Brienne's bloody hand once more. This time she placed it over the bare stomach of Sansa. Some of my blood dripped onto her core, sliding off to the side now spattering against the grassy ground.

"One like you, big and strong"

Then she grabbed Sansa's bloody hand and put it on top of Brienne's.

"One like you, beautiful and wise"

Brienne tried to pull her hand away but the woman wouldn't let go. She spoke in a different tongue, repeating the same words over and over again. Brienne grew worried at what kind of magic she had gotten them involved in. Once she released her grip on the two she began to collect her things and rose to her feet.

"When they reach fifteen years, you must send one back to me. For they hold the key to the Land of Always Winter" The woman spoke to Brienne.

She pulled the curtain back and just like that she was gone. Brienne stood up, peeking her head out of the tent in an attempt to find the woman but all that was left was her black cloak. Brienne brought it back inside the tent and used it to provide Sansa with more warmth. The girl wasn't awake but she did look much better. She placed her ear up against the girl's chest, listening to the return of her strong heartbeat. Brienne placed a hand onto Sansas head realizing her fever finally started to break. She sat in silence for hours waiting for the girl to finally wake.

Brienne placed her head on top of the girl's arm finally shutting her eyes in an attempt to get some rest. She sat wondering over the words that came from the woman in black. Brienne couldn't piece together the slightest clue of who she could be talking about. She wondered if she would even tell the Queen about the woman, she feared she would just grow angry with her. Eventually her rapid thoughts tired her mind, finally putting her to sleep.

When Brienne rose the next morning, the girl was gone. Her head shot up in a panic looking around for the redhead. Brienne immediately grabbed her sword. holding it out as she exited the tent. Some of the people in the village stared, but she didn't care, she needed to locate Sansa immediately. While still in search of Sansa, Brienne thought of the young girl she met when they first went beyond the wall, she figured that must be where the Queen is. Brienne hiked back up the mountain and as she approached the small home on the outskirts of Storrolds Point she saw fiery hair blowing in the wind.

Brienne put her sword away and rushed over to the girl. She approached her from behind, wrapping her arms around the girl tightly. Sansa's soft warm hands fell on top of Brienne's just before she turned around to kiss the blonde. Brienne wanted to cry at the sight of the girl, alive and well.

"This doesn't look like Last Hearth" Sansa chuckled softly.

"You almost died, my love" Brienne tucked the hair in her face behind her ear.

"But you saved me," Sansa smiled. "You always do"

Sansa lazily wrapped her arms around the tall woman's neck. They pushed their lips together over and over again, both in awe of the fact that they were standing there, together. Brienne pulled the girl into another tight hug before finally releasing her grip on her. She stood back for a moment, taking in all of Sansa's beauty.

"The North, I mean the truth North. It's more beautiful than you ever would've imagined isn't it" Sansa asked, guiding them to the small bench outside of Anya's home.

"That it is," Brienne replied, sitting with her girlfriend.

Brienne wrapped her arm around Sansa pulling her in close. Sansa rested her head on Brienne's shoulder admiring how beautiful the snowy mountains were. Sansa didn't want to ask the questions in her mind, she still felt guilty about the last conversation they had. She knew it was selfish of her to ask Brienne not to save her, but she was the Queen and she understood the importance of having a united realm.

"So.. care to fill me in on what happened after I fainted. How could we possibly have made it in time. How am I alive? What happened to Dreadfort and Last Hearth... Am- am I still the Queen." Sansa fired her burning questions at Brienne one after the other..

"Well after you passed out. I took you as far North as we could physically handle. Ser Galvin and the rest of the men should be in Last Hearth as we speak. I had them send for Lyanna so she could help reinstall a Lord at Last Hearth. Obviously I'm not sure how that's going but those were the instructions I left" Brienne answered some of the Queen's questions.

"So who's in charge of Winterfell?" Sansa asked.

"That I do not know," Brienne replied simply.

Sansa jolted from the bench in sheer panic. She couldn't believe there was no one trusted left in charge of Winterfell. With the Hawk claiming to be King, for all she knew the Boltons have recaptured her home once again.

"My love, I'm sure Lady Lyanna devised a wise plan. You and I both know this is way smarter than some of the adults you and I know personally." Brienne tried to reassure her Queen. "Once your better, Winterfell is the first place we'll go"

Sansa paused listening to the words of her lover. She imagined how things could have possibly gone any differently had Brienne followed her instructions and let her die. Lyanna would still be in Winterfell, but what was the point of making all these changes is the Queen wasn't going to be around long enough to show people the benefits of them.

"I suppose getting me here was rather difficult" Sansa fidgeted with her fingers. "I'm sorry I was so cruel and stubborn"

"It's alright, my love" Brienne stood up to cup Sansa's face.

Brienne wanted to keep what really cured the Queen a secret, so she decided she would. Just until she could figure out what the woman meant. Anya appeared from inside her house, excited to see the two finally reunited.

"Finally, It's taken everything in me not to go into your tent and wake you. The medicine must've worked!" Anya spoke excitedly.

"Yeah, Anya has told me all about your journey together. According to her, I should be dead" Sansa looked towards Brienne.

"Yeah... maybe it was the Grace of the old Gods" Brienne responded.

"Well, I'm very grateful to you all," Sansa smiled.

The three women returned to the village looking for the man who accepted them. The sun shined brightly this morning, providing some warmth in the snow. The man exited his tent looking at the three of them with a gaping mouth.

"Seven hells, how are you still standing?" He pointed with a smile. "You Starks are truly some tough ol' bastards"

"Thank you for taking such good care of me. Is your healer around, I'd like to thank him as well" Sansa questioned.

"He's out right now, I'll send him to you when he's finished"

"Alright. I take it you fought with Jon then" Sansa inquired.

"Aye. We all owe Jon Stark our lives" He nodded.

"And what is your name?"

"Finally someone asked. The big blonde woman doesn't have much of the southern etiquette I heard about" He joked. "I'm called Lore"

"Forgive Brienne, she cares very deeply for me. She was simply too distracted to be concerned with formalities ." Sansa apologized to them.

"Yes, please pardon my rudeness" Brienne bowed to the man.

"I'm just busting your balls. It's fine" Lore laughed loudly.

They moved around the village taking a moment to explore the world beyond the North. Lore explained all kinds of great things to them, like the ability to warg and see visions. He talked about the first time he realized he could warg into a bear, and how exhausting it was. Brienne wanted to ask him to show them but given her own history with bears she decided maybe it wasn't the best idea. As much as Sansa truly adored the winter, she couldn't help but worry about how her amusement could be coming at the cost of her realm. Still she didn't want to be rude, so she decided they would leave first thing tomorrow. What's the harm in resting up for another day?

Chapter Text

Sansa and Brienne had been traveling back to Castle Winterfell for almost fourteen straight days. Meaning the Queen had been away from her troops for well over a month. For some reason Sansa was nervous about returning home, she wondered if her people thought she was dead. Had they already moved on and found someone who wasn't a deemed degenerative woman to lead them?. As much as she understands what had to happen, it doesn't change the way she wishes things could've gone. Meanwhile, Brienne was just happy to be back with the woman she loved so dearly. The sight of Sansa waking and talking brought her so much happiness.

"I'm feeling a bit tired, my love" Sansa complained.

"We'll be there by sunrise if we keep moving," Brienne replied while still walking. "Can you keep going?"

"Yeah, I can" Sansa powered through her exhaustion.

They walked for another three miles, finally arriving in the vicinity of the castle. Sansa looked as if she was about to pass out which concerned Brienne. She figured if Sansa could walk this far all Brienne needed to do was carry her another few hundred feet and they'd be back behind the castle wall. Sansa allowed for herself to be lifted off of the ground. She wasn't sure if she was still tired from the illness or what, but all this walking with very little food and water was what she envisioned for herself as Queen. Her blonde knight carried her to the front gates demanding that they open up. The first person to come to the gate was Podrick then a few other knights followed.

"The Queen! The Queen and the Lord Commander! They're back! Open the bloody gates!"Podrick screamed at the knights in charge of drawing the gate.

The entirety of the castle rushed outside to see if what Podrick screamed was true. Once the gate opened, Brienne's quivering knees gave out, sending her straight to the ground with the Queen still in arms. Podrick and Ser Bael grabbed the Queen gently before calling for the Maester as they rushed her to her sleeping chambers. Two of the knights looked at Brienne in a panic, unsure of what to do.

"I'm alright. Just fetch me some bread and water please" Brienne managed to get back on her feet.

"Lord Commander, you're back!" Ser Galvin shouted from across the castle grounds.

Brienne was happy to see that so many people cared about them returning. Especially Ser Galvin being that they were at odds the first time they met. He put his arm around Brienne's waist to give her more support as she stood up. He insisted that she also go lay down, being that they had been traveling on foot for so long. Brienne was taken to the room next to Sansa's. It didn't take long for the Maester to finish up with Sansa and make sure Brienne was alright as well. The two were both okay, just exhausted and slightly dehydrated from their long journey. The castle was ordered to stay away from the Queen until she regained her health. So instead the knights of the Queensguard piled inside Brienne's room.

"I would say it's good to see your face Ser Bjorn but I'm just now realizing you're not as flattering as I thought " Brienne joked with the men.

"Lord Commander, It's nice to hear you've taken a liking to a strong lad like me. But word around here is you're already spoken for" Ser Biorn replied now laughing with the blonde

The whole room roared with loud laughter. This was different from what she was used to. She rarely formed bonds with those outside her circle, especially men. But when she looked at the men of the Queensguard sat in front of her right now, she began to see them as brothers.

"If you're here, I take it things in Last Hearth went well" Brienne inquired.

"The Lady Hand is a tough one. Last Hearth has a new Lord in charge, Quelin Parkler. A nice strong young lad, already wed and a baby on the way. He had taken charge of the castle almost immediately after their return from the Long Night, the people already looked up to him. Made our jobs a hell of a lot easier." Ser Galvin chimed in.

"Yeah, we've been for some days now. We thought we'd lost you both" Ser Mathew spoke. "It's good to see you"

"Alright, I get it. It's great to see all of your ugly faces too. Now get out, I need rest" Brienne laughed, throwing a pillow at them.

Brienne waited for the men to leave the room before she left her own bed. She crept into the Queens room trying not to startle the girl. Brienne thought Sansa would be fast asleep but she wasn't. Sansa sat in her bed curled up, with an old book in her hand. Brienne looked curiously at the book titled 'Westeros History'.

"I wonder if I'll ever have a place here. Most of them are knights, conquerors. This whole book is filled with men. And whatever little history they have involving women... they're more like you and Arya than me" Sansa huffed while tossing down the book.

"You'll carve your path into this book, I'm sure of it" Brienne sat beside Sansa's bed.

"How?" Sansa looked at Brienne.

"Well... I'll teach you how to use a sword" Brienne suggested with a lighthearted grin.

A light smile grew on Sansa's face in pure amusement. At first she couldn't imagine herself holding a sword. It was a super manly thing to do, and Sansa liked girly things. But maybe it was a good idea, a woman who can wield a sword well was so uncommon it could only make the Queen and her army even stronger.

"Alright" Sansa replied.

"What? I was only joking, my love" Brienne was shocked by her lover's response.

"Well, I'm not. You're the best knight in all of Westeros. You'll teach me right?" Sansa looked at Brienne with pouty eyes.

"Of course, I'll teach you but . . what's on your mind, love. Talk to me" Brienne asked.

Sansa let out a deep sigh, she didn't want to burden Brienne with all of her senseless emotions. But that was the great thing about Brienne, there isn't a word Sansa could speak that Brienne would think was senseless.

"I just want this all to be over. I want to put an end to the Bolton name myself. But most importantly, I want the North, our home, to be better than it was when my father left" Sansa explained.

"I know, my love." Brienne kissed the girl's head lightly.

Brienne figured she should allow the girl to rest, although she had been talking up a storm, she imagined that Sansa would be out like a fire in the cold any minute now. The two sat back alone in their beds, staring at the ceiling thinking of the world they were building together.

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Six weeks had passed since Sansa and Brienne made it back to Winterfell safely. Spring was officially here and the castle was currently in a particularly beautiful state. The fields outside of the castle radiated vibrant and green, as the multi-colored fields of flowers began to bloom from the rejuvenated soil. The air was cool enough for the Queen to sit outside today. Of course she chose one of her favorite spots in all of Winterfell. The weirwood tree in the Godswood reminded her of times with her family, especially with her mother.

When Sansa was a little girl she'd sometimes wake up very early in the morning. Before Arya and her brothers would rise, before the Maesters, and even her own father. She would wander outside of the castle, and into the Godswood where she found her mother sewing dresses. Sansa would sit down underneath the tree and study the patterns her mom would sew into what would soon be her favorite dresses. So when the sun rose this morning the Queen took her fabric outside and sat under her favorite tree.

"And who are you? The proud lord said" Sansa began to sing one of her favorite tunes. "That I must bow so low?"

"Only a cat with a different coat. That's all the truth I know. In a coat of gold or a coat of red"

"A lion still has claws. Mine are long and sharp my lord. As long and sharp as yours. And so he spoke. And so he spoke. That Lord of Castamere"

Brienne went looking for Sansa when she rose this morning. She wanted to spend some time together alone and talk about the things that ran restlessly through her mind . She dressed herself in a long grey doublet with tan pants, both pieces a gift to her from the Queen. They've been back for quite a while now, and there was no reason to prolong their wedding. Although it was something Brienne was still unsure of, she tried her best not to project her fears onto the fate of their marriage and cast aside her nerves. She decided that she would be more attentive, maybe even assertive when it came to planning their future as woman and woman. After looking around the castle and in the tombs, Brienne felt silly for not thinking of the Godswood sooner.

"You wouldn't believe how many places I've been looking for you" Brienne startled the Queen.

"I'm sorry, my love. I should've left a noter" Sansa apologized.

Brienne joined Sansa underneath the tree. She sat down next to the chair the girl was sitting in. Her hands felt the thick material of the top as she examined the part of the outfit that was already finished. It didn't quite look like a dress but maybe the Queen was trying something new.

"I'm sewing an outfit for our sparring session" Sansa spoke excitedly. "I'm going to look quite beautiful while I'm out there taking heads.

"Beautiful aye?" Brienne snickered a bit at Sansa's language.

"Have I said something humorous?" Sansa huffed, playfully tossing her half sewed top down into her lap.

"No, not at all my love" Brienne tried her best not to smile at Sansa. "It's just I've never seen anyone worry about what theoir wearing whilst fighting"

"I cannot believe you're actually laughing at me right now," Sansa said.

Sansa launched herself on top of Brienne, she tickled her sides then her neck, then the back of her legs. Brienne threw her head back in laughter while trying to get the smaller woman away from her. They rolled around in the grass crushing some of the white and red flowers that recently bloomed under the weirwood. After laughing until both of their stomachs and throats ached, they rolled onto their backs now admiring the different shapes of the clouds in the sky. The sleeve of Sansa's blue dress slid down as she pointed out the one that resembled a crow. Brienne took this opportunity to slide her hand into Sansa's. Sansa's heart warmed at the feeling of Brienne's lips on the back of her hand. She always enjoyed the littlest forms of intimacy, they made her feel genuinely loved.

"So what kind of things must we discuss in preparation for the wedding?" Brienne asked while brushing her fingers against Sansa's bare arm.

"Brie! You've made my heart swoon" Sansa smiled widely. "Am I dreaming? Are you really lying here with me, under the weirwood tree, not dressed in yourarmor, striking up conversation about our wedding?"

"You're so silly" Brienne rolled her eyes at Sansa's words. "I'm trying to be serious here"

"Okay, okay. Well we'd need to decide on a more precise location first. Then maybe the time, all the food and drinks, the flowers, the performances." Sansa began to list.

"Alright well that doesn't sound too bad. Where do we start" Brienne asked.

"Well I've always wanted to have . . . a winter wedding" Sansa's smile dropped with her enthusiasm.

"No reason we still can't have one" Brienne said sitting up.

"I don't want it to be anything like that night. Sansa fiddled with her fingers.

"It won't be, my love. We'll dance and laugh and kiss. It won't be in any sort of resemblance to that night, because it will be with someone who truly loves you." Brienne cheered her up

"I love you" Sansa cupped Brienne's face.

The two sat in the grass for hours talking about their big plans for the wedding. They wished they could go the entire day without being disturbed by anyone in the kingdom but that was an unrealistic wish. One of the Queen's servants came looking for the Queen stating that a few ravens had just arrived from Last Hearth and the Iron Islands. Brienne and Sansa walked back down to the castle playfully bumping into each other and making small jokes about the way Ser Bjorn walked when he was in a hurry. While Brienne went back to their sleeping chambers to dress in her armor for the day, Sansa followed the servant to her private meeting chamber.

"Apart from the letters we have there are some things people of the realm would like to address" The servant spoke.

"When aren't there" Sansa replied, holding her out for the scrolls.

As she removed the thick round stamp that sealed the letter together. Sansa's stomach started to feel very queasy. Her left hand fell over her stomach and her right balled up in a fist hovering over her mouth. Whatever feeling she had in her stomach was now sitting in the back of her throat. Sansa stood up abruptly, her chair flipped over starting the servant in the room. She made her way to the waste bin in the corner of the room, puking whatever little snacks she had this morning back into the earth.

"My word, are you alright dear?" Sansa's servant asked. The small man rushed to pull a chair up behind the girl so she could sit and rest.

"I'll fetch the maester and a handmaiden" He yelled while leaving the room.

Meanwhile outside of the castle Brienne looked for her good friend Podrick. She wanted to talk some things over with Podrick and see how he was adjusting to being a knight in Winterfell. Brienne checked to see if he was out fighting with the other knights, or having his first meal of the day like most of the people in Winterfell right now. But he wasn't in any of those places which was quite odd to the tall blonde.

As she moved to the upper level of the castle she heard a loud thump coming from the old chamber she used to sleep in. Her mind immediately went to the thought of some kind of intruder, maybe one of the Hawks men. She lifted up her sword ever so slightly and gently pushed the door open. Her eyes shut immediately at the sight of her little sister and Podrick locking lips. Podrick jumped back in terror while Ily grasped onto the bed sheets to cover up her topless body.

"Lord Commander, I- I can explain this . . ." Podrick stammered with his hands up.

"Ily, dress up. Now" Brienne huffed while shutting the door.

Brienne sat outside of the room with her arms crossed. Her foot tapped against the cold castle ground signaling her impatience to anyone else in the halls. Podrick was the first to exit the room, with his head hanging low and his posture too, his eyes locked with Brienne's briefly. Then came Ily, although her head still sat high her face burned a brighter red than the time she fell asleep in the sun on the island.

"Ilizabeth, you know it is improper for an unmarried girl to be seen kissing a man" Brienne scolded her sister.

"Brienne, I want to marry Podrick" Ilizabeth spoke honestly.

"What, you barely know him?" 'Brienne argued.

"Actually, I do. You and the Queen left for practically two months. Podrick has done nothing but speak highly of you and treat me kindly. You have no right to be doing this!" Ily yelled back.

"Ay, watch your tone"

"You aren't father! I thought you brought me here to have a chance, like you. A chance to be a woman with a say in her own life. I see you're the only one allowed to be happy here." Ily stormed off into her own room.

"Would you please keep it down, the Queen is feeling unwell" A handmaiden whispered from down the hall.

"What, what's wrong?" Brienne turned towards the end of the hall.

Brienne followed after the handmaiden, looking around for Sansa. She found herself holding her breath as she entered the room. It seemed she had been doing that a lot lately, always worrying about the well being of her love. Sansa sat up in her bed sipping a hot cup of freshly brewed tea looking fit as a fiddle.

"Sansa" Brienne called to her as soon as she entered the room.

"It's alright, I just got a little sick. It was probably the late night snacking. I've told Lena that I'm fine already, It's come and gone, truly" Sansa said, lifting herself out of bed.

Lena made the Queen finish her tea and eat some bread before allowing her out of her sights again. Brienne made sure she kept an eye on the girl all day, and she remained in perfectly good health throughout its entirety.

Chapter Text

Brienne finished shoving the last piece of bread in her mouth before running down to the shops. After hearing that the Queen had taken an interest in sword wielding she immediately had something made for the girl. Brienne didn't feel the need to wear her armor out today, something about it made her feel safe and secure. But the idea of Winterfell being her home was oddly starting to feel safe enough, maybe even safer than her armor. Her feet danced through the crowd of people out enjoying the wonderful weather and music. She felt extremely light today, maybe it was because she was doing something she loves with the woman she loved. Brienne arrived at the table looking for the older man she met with about a week ago.

"You're right on time" He poked his head out from around the back of his stall.

"Of course I am. A Queen shouldn't have to wait" Brienne laughed dryly.

His thin grey hair was brushed down in front of his forehead covering the wrinkles revealing his true age. Light dripples of sweat dripped down his forehead and off the end of his thin pointy nose. As he reached his hands out to pull back the cover placed over the sword Brienne noticed how worn his hands were. The black grease that sat in between the grooves of his finger print and under his nails told Brienne that he had truly put a great effort into the girl's sword. She figured she would pay the man extra for his time.

He pulled back the white sheet revealing the bright shiny polished sword. The blade wasn't as thick or as long as Brienne's but that was because Sansa was just learning how to fight. She knew the girl was going to have to get used to the weight of the sword, and a fully fledged one would be too much right now. Regardless, she was the Queen and everything the girl owned was meant to be marvelous. The red crowned wolf that sat as the pommel was more detailed than the others, and a little bit bigger. The crown was just as thin and finely printed as the one that sat on Sansa's head.

"This is amazing. Your craftsmanship is stellar. The Queen truly appreciates your time" Brienne exchanged the money for the sword.

"Please let her know how grateful I am to be chosen by her Grace. Seven blessings to you, Lord Commander. He bowed.

"Seven blessings to ya" Brienne took the sword.

She made her way back through the crowd, up the flowery field, and back behind the castle walls. While Brienne walked to the back end of the castle she spotted her little sister and one of her best friends frolicking through the halls. They tensed up at the sight of Brienne, clearly still at odds about their decision to be together. Brienne had been pushing out the last conversation they had. She felt guilty about the way she spoke to Ilizabeth, she knew that Podrick was a good man and would be nothing but kind to her. But she couldn't help but feel the need to protect her. Ilizabeths presence in Winterfell alone worried Brienne everyday. Although there are new Queens and Kings of Westeros, the attitude doesn't change overnight and being an unmarried highborn woman living away from her father had its own set of dangers. Regardless, Brienne didn't want to think about that, she diverted her minds attention back to meeting with Sansa.

Sansa sat in the black and grey outfit she made for herself. She felt weird wearing pants underneath her dress, but at least it was something she felt pretty in. Her hair was braided backwards along the sides mixed in with the loose hair all pulled into a ponytail. She fiddled with her fingertips waiting for her lover to arrive when her stomach started to turn. This was the second time Sansa had felt this strange nauseous feeling in her stomach. She decided she was done eating anything before bed because this feeling was really unsettling. The girl moved to her feet clenching her stomach trying her best not to puke out in public.

"Sansa, you alright?" Brienne asked, appearing from thin air.

"Yes, yes. I'm rather excited about this" Sansa turned, putting on a smile.

"Guess what I have?" Brienne stepped closer to the girl hiding the sword behind her back.

"Hmm, is it lemon cakes?" Sansa replied playfully.

"No but if you do well today I will ensure you can fill your stomach with whatever your heart desires"

She revealed the sword from behind her back with her slightly gaping in excited 'aaahhhh'. Sansa looked at the detailing of the sword carefully, especially taking in how beautiful the royal pommel looked. She then noticed that the sword wasn't as big as the Oathkeeper which i

"It's smaller than usual," Sansa said.

"It's smaller than the average, but I'd rather you get used to its feel and weight first." Brienne explained, now handing Sansa her sword.

She places her hand on the handle connecting her eyes nervously with Brienne. The look she gave her assured Sansa that there wasn't anything to be afraid of and that she could take it. Sansa lifted the sword out of Brienne's hand, studying it as she held it up in the sunlight.

"Alright, we're going to start slow and simple"

Brienne practically skipped across the sparring grounds, moving things from one side to another. She lifted up two of wooden hay mixed dummies and brought them closer to the girl. It rained a bit last night so the ground was soft and slightly muddy which might make teaching Sansa about mobility difficult but a true fighter doesn't control the weather.

"You hold your sword up like so, your hand should never pass this small grove on the handle" Brienne pulled out her own sword to show the girl.

Sansa adjusted her dainty little fingers to wrap around the sword the way Brienne showed her. She gently moved the sword back and forth in the air just trying to get a feel for it.

"First rule is that there is almost always more than one enemy. You'll need to use all of your senses when moving" Brienne explained.

"When moving, waiting for an enemy to appear or if you're dancing waiting to make the first strike. This is how you move"

Brienne held her elbow up, the crevices of her arm diagonally lined up perfectly with her eyebrow, something she pointed out to the Queen. Her left foot crossed behind the back of the right one, then her left moved back behind the right. She repeated this motion over and over again until Sansa replicated the steps exactly.

"Now approach the enemy" Brienne moved forward with Sansa. "And let's see your swing"

Sansa ripped her sword at the dummy with all her power. She just missed the top of its 'head' causing all of the force she just applied to spin her around almost entirely. She lost her balance and fell right into the mud.

"You okay?" Brienne tried not to chuckle.

"If you've brought me out here just to have a laugh, well you've succeeded then" Sansa's eyes welled with small tears.

"My love, I'm sorry. I was only joking" Brienne felt bad. She didn't realize how serious the girl was about this.

Brienne stuck out her hand and helped the girl back on hee feet. She planted a quick kiss on the girl's cheek before readjusting the sword in her hand. She explained things like power control and precision once more to Sansa before letting her give another go at the dummy. This time the girl swung hard but she didn't wind up as much. She connected with what would be the ribs of the opponent, leaving a small chip in the dummy. A confident smile grew on Sansa's face as she pulled back to strike it again and again. Brienne watched the girl in complete amusement. She wasn't naturally gifted at this but Brienne knew with the right amount of training, she could become a pretty decent fighter.

Brienne showed her the many different ways to move and strike. Sansa grew eager to learn how to predict people's moves or how to block and dodge. All things Brienne would be willing to show her just maybe not on her first day. They wrapped up their training session after a few hours. Sansa had begun to complain of great hunger which Brienne couldn't disagree with.

"So let's eat in the castle garden today, '' Sansa exclaimed while pulling Brienne away by the hand.

The Queen had led the two upstairs wishing to change out of their dirty clothes before they moved on to eat. Sansa removed her pants skirt and top now standing in the room with Brienne with nothing but her underwear on. Although the Queen had her back turned she could tell the giant was watching her change as well. She half expected Brienne to come up behind her and place her hands wherever she liked, or maybe that was just what Sansa wanted her to do. Sansa asked Brienne to help her slip into the royal blue dress she made when she was in Tarth not wanting to bother the handmaiden with something simple and slightly awkward.

Brienne finished redressing herself before slipping behind the Queen to help lace the back of her dress up. Brienne pulled on the laces hard, nearly suffocating the girl.

"Ow, are you trying to break a rib?" Sansa winced.

"I always do it this tight" Brienne raised a brow.

"Okay well just a little looser today please" Sansa let out a sigh as the pressure released.

Sansa balanced her handheld mirror between the wall and the surface of her desk where she always made sure she looked presentable. Her thin fingers pressed up against the silver crown, lifting it gently above her head before placing it in the center. She looked at herself for a few seconds, making sure her crown was perfect before exiting the sleeping chambers with Brienne. The two moved through the castle as if they were the only two in Winterfell.

Something about their love was still so new and pure that they sometimes genuinely believe they were the only two people in the universe. Being that it snowed long and hard in Winterfell the garden wasn't anything exquisite, certainly not like the garden in the capital or at least what used to be the garden in the capital. Still her mother being a southern woman appreciated the sight of fresh flowers and other plants so she had them build something small. It was practically hidden, only accessible through the back doors of the castle, the one next to the entryway to the catacombs.

Sansa smiled at how pretty the blooming flowers looked on this somewhat sunny day. Brienne ducted as she walked under the arch way that led them to the open table. The table was filled with fruits, pies, breads, and a nice suckling pig. Sansa's mouth practically watered at the sight of it. As Brienne moved to take a seat next to her love she noticed the two extra chairs placed at the other end of the table. Just as she was about to inquire about them, her sister and Podrick walked into the garden hand and hand. Brienne looked at Sansa who already slipped a few pieces of fruit into her mouth.

"Don't make me feel worse than I already do, my love. I feel bad enough for tricking you both into coming here. They came to me, okay? Please just try and make amends" Sansa placed her hand on top of Brienne's.

Brienne sat up awkwardly waiting for her sister and friend to join the table. Podrick pulled the chair back for Ily, allowing her to sit before sitting down in his own chair. His cheeks were red revealing a bit of his nerves whereas Ily looked uncomfortable and annoyed. The four in the garden were practically silent, allowing for the chatter and movement of Winterfell to provide them with a very low level of amusement.

"This is lovely," Sansa spoke, trying to break the silence.

"Yes, thank you for the invitation, Your Grace" Podrick joined in.

"Of course, you two are practically family" Sansa smiled.

She called for the handmaiden to serve Podrick and Ily their tea. While they were distracted with her, Sansa turned to Brienne to address her coldness.

"Will you play nice?" Sansa whispered.

"I don't quite know what you'd like for me to say, my love" Brienne argued.

"Alright, then I'll talk" Sansa grew frustrated with her stubborn lover.

"Tell me about you two" Sansa turned to the couple. "How did this all start?"

"After you guys left for the Dreadfort. I found Ily wandering outside the castle walls while patrolling the area. She seemed sad so I asked her about her sorrows. She told me she missed her sisters, and was feeling lonely in Winterfell" Podrick began to explain.

"You must understand, Ser. All I ever wanted was to make sure she was happy here" Podrick turned to Brienne.

"Podrick, I love you like a brother. And Ily, I love you because you're my sister. I'm not angry with you two being in love, I'm angry about the two of you sneaking around the castle indecently." Brienne spoke to them a bit harshly.

Sansa placed her hand on top of Brienne's knee slightly rubbing the fabric of her pants between her two fingers. Brienne felt a small wave of ease splash over her as the touch.

"I'm sorry for yelling and for ever giving you the slightest impression that I don't want you to be a woman with choices" Brienne smiled gently at her sister.

"As for you Podrick, treat my sister well," Brienne joked with the boy.

Sansa gestured for Brienne to initiate a hug between the three of them. She watched as the hard looks on everyone's faces faded away with a smile. The four finished their afternoon dining while discussing plans for the wedding. Podrick and Ily discussed having a small wedding inside the castle walls, which of course earned a huge yes from the Queen. She loved, love. And not just the version created by a thirteen year old girl based half told stories she'd heard across the realm. But the love she was able to give and receive, the love she was able to watch other genuinely share

The Queen sent Podrick and Brienne off together so she could have a chance to talk more with Ilizabeth alone. The two had grown close ever since Sansa and Brienne returned to Winterfell weeks ago. Sansa loved the company of Brienne, and her knights, even the handmaiden. But none of them really felt like a true friend. Ily liked to talk to Sansa about dresses, and weddings the two often sat together sharing childhood stories centered around their stubborn sisters.

"The resemblance between the two of you is striking. I don't feel I look anything like any of my brothers or Arya." Sansa spoke with the girl. "Truthfully everyone resembles our father, especially Jon. I'm the only one with my mothers face"

"I can barely remember what our mother looked like." Ily spoke sadly.

"I may not have lost my mother as early as you. But I know how much it hurts" Sansa pulled the girl and rubbed her shoulder in an attempt to cheer her up.

"Can I share a secret with you?" Ily turned her big blue eyes to Sansa.

"Yes, of course" Sansa took both of her hands.

"I'm very excited for us to become sisters by law" Ily practically squealed. "I say we team up and pull pranks on Brie the first few days after your wedding, or maybe we could even prank Pordrick. He's so gullible"

Sansa laughed at how much Ily was rambling, typically Rilley was the Tarth who liked to talk in circles. The idea of their families being united must've been something that Brienne's sisters were truly excited for. As Ily and Sansa continued their stroll just outside of the small garden, the queen was approached by a few knights.

"Your Grace, there's someone at the gate." A knight spoke while slightly struggling to catch his breath.

"What of them?" Sansa inquired.

"A young lad. Says he only wishes to speak with you about what he knows." The other one spoke.

Sansa lifted up the extra cloth of her dress while following after the knights. She noticed that Podrick, Brienne and a few other knights both from the Queensguard and the Winterfell army were already standing there. The crowd parted ways allowing for the Queen to get a good look at the boy. His clothes looked similar to how the North would dress young servant boys, only they were dirty and torn. His eyes were shapes like large walnuts, and the space outside the pupil occupied a deeply rooted shade of brown. They were filled with terror, as if the boy had seen things no one should ever see. Sansa could tell the boy was frightened by the crowd of men in armors somewhat holding their sword out at them.

"Put away your swords!" Sansa commanded them.

The knights obeyed the Queen's command, all withdrawing their swords from the vicinity of the young boy. Sansa stuck out a hand to the young boy helping him off of the ground.

"What information do you have for me?" Sansa inquired.

"Not here, Your Grace" He whispered.

"I can't let you in unless you tell me who you are" Sansa remained firm.

"Your Grace, do you want me to handle this little brat?" Ser Galvin stepped closer.

"No, Ser Galvin, stand down." Sansa put her hand out to stop him.

"Little boy, you must tell me who you are"

The boy motioned for Sansa to bend down so he could whisper in her ear. He cupped his filthy hand right next to the Queen's face and told as many secrets as his one breath allowed. When Sansa withdrew from the proximity of the boy she tried her best not to let his secrets slip through her expression. She ordered two of the Handmaidens to draw the boy a bath and make sure he gets fed and clothed.

"Your Grace if I may" Ser Galvin rushed to Sansa's side.

"Yes, Ser Galvin" Sansa replied while watching the boy move through the castle.

"We have no idea where that boy comes from. What if there is no truth to the words he speaks" Ser Galvin expressed his concern.

"I'm sure you'll have no problem finding someone suitable enough to oversee the boy, then"

Chapter Text

As much as Sansa would love to wake up to a clear blue sky filled with perfectly rounded out clouds and beaming rays of sunlight. The Old Gods had different plans for todsy Instead of calm blue water like skies, they received the sky of stormy sea. The clouds were stretched thin like someone had pulled on multiple pieces of cotton and plastered them to the sky. Apart from having poor weather, Sansa also woke up alone in bed. Brienne was out making sure that all the Lords and Ladies of the North would be comfortable upon their arrival in Winterfell.

After exchanging words with the young boy, Gareth, who appeared outside of the castle gate just two weeks ago, Sansa decided that she needed to share this information with them in preparation for an attack on the other castles in the realm. Podrick was tasked with befriending the boy and helping him adjust to life in Winterfell, which of course kept both him and Ily occupied. So it's safe to say the Queen was feeling pretty lonely today.

She rolled off the left side of her bed allowing her bare feet to connect with the cold stone floor of the castle. She looked down at her wiggling toes feeling like there was something different about the way they looked. Regardless, the Queen knew she had little time to ponder over small things like this.

Her long sleeve white nightgown flowed against the breeze she created as she swiftly moved to her bedroom door. She called out for Lena, politely asking if she would help her prepare for the day. As Lena drew a warm bath for the Queen, Sansa sat at the bedroom vanity holding her small handheld mirror up to her face. She poked at her cheeks and her nose wondering if anyone else could see what she was seeing.

"Lena, can I ask you something?" Sansa called out to the young woman.

The thin framed girl appeared from out of the washroom. She stood by the Queen's side with her hand crossed neatly on top of her lap. Her tan gown fell nicely, although the dress patterns were a bit too simplistic for the Queen's taste. Sansa couldn't help but notice how pretty the girl looked when two thin strands of her hair held back her voluptuous wide curly hair.

"Do I look any different to you?" Sansa asked.

"What do you mean, Your Grace?" She replied.

"I mean, does my face look fatter, or my nose, maybe even my . . . body" Sansa spoke revealing her insecurity plainly.

"No, not at all, Your Grace" Lena immediately protested the idea.

Sansa stood from her chair letting out a big huff. She crossed her arms grabbing the opposite ends of the dress and pulled the gown inside out over her head. She tossed the gown onto the bed and asked Lena to take a closer look at her naked body.

"Lena, I didn't ask you to be my handmaiden to lie to me. Now, tell me the truth, don't I look different?" Sansa spoke with an almost desperate expression.

"You might just be a little bloated, Your Grace" Lena finally spoke the truth.

"Oh, it's true then. I'm getting fat" Sansa cried out.

Lena tried her best to reassure the Queen that even if she was gaining some weight she still looked beautiful. She forced the Queen to get in the bath stating that if they waited any longer the water would lose its temperature. Lena dipped the rag into the bath water before scrubbing Sansa's arm gently. The Queen refused to make eye contact with her, she was trying her absolute hardest not to cry. Sansa couldn't begin to understand what was happening to her but she knew she needed to settle down and think clearly because there was a lot at stake.

The secrets that came from Gareth needed to be settled quickly and discreetly, there simply was no time for meltdowns over her physical image. Then again, her mind couldn't help but wonder if Brienne had noticed and if that was the reason she had seen so little of her love today. Lena aided the Queen out of the tub while grabbing the towel to dry her off. She rubbed oils up and down the girl's soft pale skin then moved to her wardrobe to help her pick out a gown for the day.

"I know the Lords and Ladies of the North will be arriving today, I'll be sure to have you looking your best, My Queen" Lena spoke, trying to get Sansa out of her own head.

Lena opened up the tall dark stained maple wooden doors of the wardrobe revealing an assortment of gowns for the queen. A lilac colored dress embroidered with magenta colored flowers and a black hand stitched corset caught the handmaid's eye. She pulled it out of the closet and rubbed some of the fabric between her fingers to assess its thickness before deciding to show it to the Queen.

Lena flipped the dress around showing it to the Queen with a bright smile. Sansa nodded slightly still not speaking another word as she slipped into a pair of undergarments. Sansa took the dress and placed her arms into the loosely fitted sleeves before poking her head through the neck hole. Lena gently tugged on the dress pulling it down the girl's body until it suddenly stopped falling. Lena gave it another tug once more but the corset would not go over the Queen's stomach. Sansa looked down at Lena whose eyes were filled with slight panic. The Queen could tell Lena didn't want to offend her with words, so she didn't speak.

"It's not fitting is it." Sansa questioned.

"No, it isn't, Your Grace" Lena spoke in a lowly voice.

Sansa felt something wet drip down her face, she hadn't even realized she began to cry. She quickly wiped away the single tear that fell before removing herself from the dress. The Queen tossed the dress onto the bed and moved back to the closet to look for something without a corset. She found another dress similar to the one Lena picked out, only this one was a light pink. The cheeky blush tinted dress fell to the floor quite nicely, and fit Sansa's semi-long arms with just enough extra room to pull off the look.

As she sat back by the vanity waiting for Lena to brush through her hair she held up that same mirror back to her face. While looking at her reflections she forced herself to think positive thoughts about herself. She thought back on some of the wonderful things all the people of Westeros said about in attempts to boast her morale. Then she thought of Brienne and how everyday she'd call the girl beautiful even when it was the morning time and her hair was still dissolved from her wild sleeping habits. These thoughts brought a smile back to Sansa's face, ultimately putting her in letter spirits for the day.

Meanwhile outside of the castle stood Ilizabeth, Gareth, and Podrick. Over the last two weeks the pair had learned about the boy. His full name, Gareth Heart. He grew up as a servant to Lord Howland Reed. His mother was a baker, and his father died fighting in the War of the Five Kings. He was soon to have thirteen years of age and wanted to become an archer. He was separated from his mother shortly after the Long Night, and was taken in by a kind dark haired man.

Then his story shifted into something much darker than they expected. He told them that man took him beyond the wall, and at first they just lived as freefolk. Everyday the man would travel out west into the uncharted territory beyond the wall, and everyday he would come back with a plethora of new meats and fruits for them to try. One day Gareth followed the man out into those woods and saw a great big empire being built in the mountains covered in more snow than he'd had seen in his entire lifetime. The man found out that Gareth was following him and he beat the boy nearly to death. He threatened Gareth clearly being shaken by the idea of someone finding out about what was going on in those woods.

So the next time the man went out, he chained Gareth up and didn't return for days, the boy was on the brink of death. The man unchained Gareth and allowed him to eat before leaving for the woods again. Gareth feared that something was not right with the man, so he went through the bag hidden underneath the bed in their hut. Garteh found a shiny newly forged dagger with the word 'Hawk' etched into the handle. He took the knife and ran south for days until he wound up here in Winterfell.

"Are you ever going to teach me to shoot arrows?" Gareth whined out to Podrick.

"Will you quit asking me that?" Podrick grew frustrated.

"You've been saying you would for a week now." Gareth continued.

"Your father never taught you to shoot arrow?." Podrick asked.

"He didn't know how. But you do, please Ser Podrick" Gareth pouted, giving Podrick a look he couldn't refuse.

Ilizabeth gave Podrick a look he couldn't refuse either. Something about the way the girl's white-blonde hair curled slightly, or the way her light eyes skin and eyelashes gave her a look that was truly exotic. Maybe it's even in the way she says his name, but whatever it was had Podrick caught in a net. He moved to the back of the horse's stable looking for the bow and bag of arrows he kept on standby.

Podrick first picked out a target, deciding that the stack of hay sitting next to the carriage with fruit across from the sparring grounds was the perfect target. He placed the arrow in the frame and pulled the string back while taking in a deep breath. Pod lined his sights up with the target before letting it loose. The arrow shot across the campgrounds striking a wooden pole before ricocheting into the sky. They all flinched back using their arms to cover their heads and the arrow fell down into the dirt a few feet away from them. Ilizabeth and Gareth exchanged a look in silence before bursting out in laughter.

"Alright, alright." Podrick rolled his eyes while going to retrieve the arrow to try again.

Eventually Podrick was able to strike the hay, then he did it again and again. He tried his best to explain the technique to Garteh before allowing him to try. The brunette struggled a bit but that was expected of a boy his age never learning to shoot. Podrick sat on the barrels with the girl talking as they watched Gareth learn to shoot. Occasionally Podrick would interrupt the conversation to go over and correct the boy's form or aim, but then he 'd be right back in it as if he never left.

"Imagine, in a few years we could have a boy just like Gareth. He'd grow tall and strong and I could teach him to shoot, and be a knight. Maybe even earn a place in the Queensguard" Podrick fantasized.

"I'd hate to disturb your fantasy but what makes you think we'd have a tall son. You are quite short, you know?" Ily spoke, chuckling lightly.

Podrick was taken aback at how freely Ilizabeth spoke her mind. He also couldn't help but laugh too, being that the girl had brought up a valid point. Podrick was a short man, shorter than his beloved.

"Let's just hope the boy grows to have your legs," Podrick laughed.

"I'd love to have children with you someday" Ilizabeth spoke shyly.

"Really?" Pod grew excited.

"Podrick, you're the most sweetest, kindest person I've ever met.I meant what I said when I told Bire that I wanted us to marry. I want to be yours" Ilizabeth held her hand out for Podrick to hold.

"I want that for us too, Ily" Podrick replied, smiling at the girl. "I want to be yours too"

The Lord and Ladies of the North began to arrive in Winterfell just as the three began to wrap up their lesson. Podrick noticed that Gareth was beginning to tense up due to all the people that had just arrived. He had developed a soft spot for the boy after hearing the hellish extent he went to just to get away from the Hawk. Hearing about what lied beyond the remains of the wall frightened Podrick, the same way the Long Night did. There was something truly scary about preparing to fight something that is completely unknown to mankind, but Podrick was a different man. He knew that if he could survive it once, he could survive it again.

"What's wrong, Gareth?" Ilizabeth asked, also noticing his change in expression.

"I just don't really like crowds. Is it alright if I just explore Winterfell alone." He looked at the two.

Podrick and Ilizabeth exchanged a look of uncertainty before answering.

"I don't know. You're not really supposed to be alone just yet." Podrick hesitated.

"Come on, Pod. I'm not a child" He huffed.

"Yes, you are," Podrick replied. He took another good look at the boy's face before giving in.

"Fine, just don't get into any trouble please"

Podrick and Ily shook their heads at the skipping boy before turning their attention back to each other. It was time for the two to depart, being that Podrick was a knight in Winterfell and it was a formality to have all of the knights there to greet the Lords and Ladies. Ilizabeth planted a small kiss on Podricks cheek before returning to the castle. Podrick hurried his way to the front of the castle, joining his comrades just in the knick of time. He stood with his expression serious and his spine straightened as the carriages pulled inside of the walls that guarded the castle.

The Queen stood in the middle of the campgrounds with the Queensguard at her side. Brienne stood next to her of course, being that she was both the Lord Commander and somewhat Sansa's only family here. As everyone poured out into the open, Sansa greeted them formally but quickly in an attempt to get them out from under the pouring rainfall. She personally escorted them to the private meeting chamber requesting that both Brienne and Ser Galvin guard the door and make sure no one overhears a word inside of the chamber.

The room was grey, cold, and awkwardly silent. Some of the Lord and Ladies were unfamiliar with each other due to the recent changes in house heads. Sansa hadn't even met the Lord of Last Hearth yet, but she could spot him seeing as he was the only one in the room she didn't recognize. He was young, maybe just a few years older than her, his hair dark black and his eyes a dark brown. His hair sat back tied into a bun similar to the one Jon used to wear. The young man reminded Sansa a bit of her brother, only he was much taller and fatter than Jon.

"I take it everyone's had a safe journey" Sansa broke the silence.

They all mumbled some form of yes and thanked Sansa for asking before returning back to awkward silence.

"Well, we have some new faces here so why don't I just introduce you all to one another" Sansa smiled trying her best to hide her nerves.

"Lord Helman Tallhart of Torrens Square"

"Lord Cley Cerwyn of Castle Cerwyn"

"Lord Gawen Glover of Deepwood Motte"

"Lord Marlin Dormund of Dormund's Keep"

"Lady Faran Hawthlorne of the Dreadfort"

"Lord Howland Reed of Greywater Watch"

"Lord Quelin Parkler of Last Hearth"

"Lady Alys Karstark of Karhold"

"Lady Lyessa Flint of Widow's Watch"

"Lord Wyman Manderly of White Habor"

"And filling in for the Mormont family is Lord Samwell Glover of Bear Island"

The group waved to one another politely before turning their attention back to the Queen directly.

" Alright let's get straight to it then"

Sansa sat at the head of the table taking a deep breath before sharing the news with the fellow heads of the northern houses. She told them all about what happened at Dreadfort, excluding the part where she fell ill and went beyond the walls. She figured she'd just leave that bit out. Lady Faran's castle has been the only one keeping an eye out for the Hawk and anyone who might be affiliated with him.

"So you've never actually met the real Hawk, just another Snow pretending to be him?" Lord Glover asked.

"Yes, but there is something else I must add" Sansa spoke.

She then told them all about the boy who arrived at the gates. She shared the fact that she had knowledge on where the Hawk was last seen. Sansa spoke of possibly getting her troops together and going North of the wall to see but it could be a trap and she wasn't willing to find out just yet. She asked the Lord and Ladies of the house to be wary of strangers trying to dig up information on the Queen's plan against the enemy, being that the enemy's existence wasn't public knowledge yet. Sansa opened the floor to all questions and took the time to answer each of them carefully. She wanted to make sure that everyone returned home prepared for a war.

She also took the time to formally introduce herself to Lord Quelin alone being that she didn't want anyone to know he was appointed without her presence. They sat inside the chambers behind closed doors for hours before finally releasing everyone. Most of the house heads stuck around for a meal before heading back on the road to return to their respective houses. As Sansa watched them all dine, she couldn't help but feel exhausted. She was ready to curl up in bed with Brienne and sleep for a full day. But when was the Queen ever going to get to do something like that anyways?

Chapter Text

The weather in Winterfell remained pretty cool even though Spring had come and gone within the blink of an eye. Summer was finally in full effect signaling that the unification of House Tarth and House Stark slowly crept around the corner. Waiting for the snow to come around again just to get married was difficult but well worth the wait to Sansa. For Brienne she couldn't help but grow slightly impatient especially because Sansa had been avoiding her for the last two days.

A few weeks had passed since the meeting with the Lords and Ladies of the Northern houses, and Sansa hadn't heard any word from them in regards to the Hawk. This wasn't necessarily bad news, but it wasn't good news either. The more they lived their lives as if nothing was happening, the more Sansa feared for the worst. The longer they waited to be ambushed by the Hawk, the more she began to contemplate sending a small army up North to see if what the boy said was true,

But Sansa had bigger things to worry about right now. She couldn't believe she thought that anything could be bigger than her position in the realm, except for her stomach. The Queen hid in her sleeping chambers all morning avoiding Brienne, the knights, even her own handmaidens were forbidden from entering. She looked down at her damp feet pattering against the stone flooring as she paced the room. Sansa mumbled things under her breath frantically while tucking fallen pieces of hair back behind her ear repeatedly. Her mind raced with the images, thoughts, and feelings she drew up over the past few weeks, leading her to a conclusion even she couldn't begin to fathom.

In a desperate attempt to make it all go away she clasped onto the fabric at the sides of her hips, lightly scratching herself as she pulled her undergarments down. Her eyes were wide as if doing so would make the blood appear. The Queen hadn't bled in many weeks, she's been vomiting every other morning and has felt extreme hunger and fatigue lately. Her breasts were sore, and her stomach began to swell like the belly of a stuffed pig. Sansa closed her eyes praying for a miracle one last time as she lifted up her night gown to look at her stomach. And when she opened them, all she could see was a small protruding pouch and most of her feet. The Queen threw her dress down letting out a noise loud enough to concern the handmaidens who've been waiting outside her room for some time now.

"Please let us in, Your Grace. It's only me and Maedalyn, today" Lena tried to convince Sansa to open up.

She'd given up on hiding it, soon all of Winterfell would know and she wasn't prepared for any of it. Sansa opened the door motioning for the two girls to enter the room quickly. The Queen peeked her head through the crack of the door checking to see if anyone was in the halls before slamming it shut. She turned to face the two women with her back against the door letting out a deep sigh. The two looked at Sansa unnervingly, they were startled by her erratic behavior. They wondered if she maybe had fallen ill again and a fever was causing her to act out.

"I must confess something to you both" Sansa spoke.

"Well, I don't have anything to confess actually because I'm certain I didn't do anything!" She shouted, holding her hands by her head.

"My Queen, maybe you should lie back down" Lena placed her hand on the small of Sansa's back trying to aid her into bed.

"No, I'm fine." Sansa took a deep breath. "I apologize. I must look so deragnged right now"

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply through her nose. She held her breath for a few seconds allowing her lungs to expand and her mind to relax just before releasing. Sansa looked at the two women calmy before trying to speak again. If she said the words out loud that would make it true, and it couldn't be true, could it?

"I think I'm with child" Sansa spoke.

Lena and Maedalyn turned to each other expressing a new wave of shock for the second time since they entered the room. They now understood why the Queen was acting erratically. This was bigger than they ever could have imagined.

"Well whose baby is it?" Maedalyn asked.

Lena slapped the girl in the back of the arm for speaking to the Queen with such a lack of formality. Of course, she too wondered the same thing but, she didn't dare ask it. She understood how troublesome this situation could be for the Queen being that she was not only unmarried, but betrothed to someone who could not produce offspring with her. How would she explain this to the realm, to her beloved. Lena was surprised to hear that the Queen had gone against her promise. Their love was the first time everyone, including Lena, got a glimpse at what true love between two women really looked like. Many in the North didn't even think it was possible, and neither did she not until Lena personally got to see the way the two were with one another. Sometimes after a long day of waiting on the couple, she would find herself out in the godswoods praying for a love like theirs.

"You don't have to share that information with us, Your Grace. All I ask is that you tell us if he is aware of the situation or not" Lena chimed in.

Sansa began to cry hysterically as her mind raced with a million different thoughts. She couldn't possibly begin to understand how she wound up pregnant. Her mind immediately went to dark places, she thought maybe someone had taken advantage of her up beyond the wall while she had fallen ill, or maybe even someone at the Dreadfort. Given the girls experience with this she tried not to let her mind wander too far in fear of never coming back from that level of darkness.

"I have never made love to anyone. Not even Brienne!" Sansa confessed.

Of course the women didn't believe her. Afterall the girl was the Queen of the North, she couldn't just openly admit to sleeping with someone other than her betrothed. Sansa looked at the women trying to read their faces in exchange for thoughts being that the two said nothing.

"You think I'm lying..." Sansa trailed off. "Which is exactly what Brienne is going to think when I'm forced to tell her"

But that was the farthest thing from the truth being that Brienne was also heading down the path of uncovering the Queen's secret. Ever since the two had returned home, Brienne had been plagued with uncovering the message the woman in black left with her. She figured the more time passed the more it would just fade away but the exact opposite has happened. Every day she woke up not having the words of the woman deciphered, she lost another opportunity to prepare herself and the Queen. It didn't help that the woman decided to keep it a secret from both her friends and her love, leaving only herself to bear the weight of this puzzling secret.

After Sansa refused to pay Brienne any mind this morning, the woman took the opportunity to go outside of the castle and ponder over the words from the woman in black. She stole some ink, a quill and a sheet of paper from the Queen's private chambers so that she could record the words just in case she ever did forget. Brienne found a spot under the tree and sat with her back pressed up against it. She tossed her bag onto the grass pulling out all the supplies brought. Brienne dipped the tip of the quill into the ink before pressing it up against the paper.

"What exactly did she say?" Brienne thought to herself out loud.

When they reach 15 years . . . . you must send one back to me.

"Who was she talking about?" She mumbled.

For they hold the key to the Land of Always Winter.

Brienne was too busy writing down every little detail of that late night to realize Podrick was approaching. He called her name once or twice, but still the only thing she could hear was the cluttering of words in her mind. Podrick kneeled down and placed a hand on Brienne's shoulder. Of course this scared the woman causing her to knock over and spill all of the ink from the small jar she brought with her. Brienne looked to Podrick who began to apologize profusely. The woman buried her hands in her face letting out a loud groan. Her short dark haired friends joined her in the grass, now sitting in the grass beside her. He was looking to find out what was wrong with his friend.

"You've been acting strange lately, I hope it's not still because of me and Ily" Podrick spoke.

"No, Pod. This isn't about you." Brienne gritted through her teeth.

"Well are you ever going to tell me what's wrong then?" Podrick exclaimed. "I swear getting information from you is more difficult than finding the Stark girls. We're friends, this kind of talk is supposed to come easily."

Brienne truly appreciated the kind of friend Pod grew to be. SHe never imagined herself relying on someone for emotional support so much. Truthfully, she didn't know what she'd do without him.

"Alright, I've got something to tell you. You cannot tell a soul, not another one of the knights, not Ilizabeth and certainly not the Queen. No one, Podrick" Brienne warned him.

"Okay, okay" He shook his head.

"When Sansa fell ill and I brought her North of the Wall, I didn't make it in time. By the time we arrived at Storrolds Point their healer said there was nothing they could do. They gave her the pollen from that flower, and milk of the poppy but she wasn't responding to any of it. They told me she was going to die. I sat in that tent with her for hours waiting for her to draw her last breath. I think she may have been a few hours away from the God of Death himself when a woman dressed in all black entered the tent. She spoke of that night being perfect for saving, and that having both me and the Queen there was perfect. The woman healed all of the marks on Sansa's face just by the wave of her hand. When I asked if she could heal her completely she told me it came with a small price. She cut out hands and pressed the blood together onto Sansa's bare stomach and said something about being strong and beautiful" Brienne explained to Podrick.

"When I asked her what I needed to do in exchange. She said all I needed to do was watch over them. And after fifteen years we must send one back to her because they are the key to the Land of Always Winter."

Podrick looked at Brienne as if she had a dragon's head in place of her own. He tried his best to process everything the woman said but it was a lot of very confusing language.

"Okay, walk me through it again?" Podrick asked.

Brienne let out a loud sigh while rolling her eyes before re-explaining everything to Podrick. The man asked a hundred questions, mostly ones Brienne couldn't answer. She didn't have any more information to give him which just confused the both of them even more. While Pod repeated the events over and over again to himself Brienne looked out towards the castle. She admired how beautiful the land looked in the summertime, despite the weather not being as warm as summer on the isle, she found the mixture of cool air and sun rays to be quite enjoyable.

"So you said, she cut your hands and placed them together on top of the Queen's stomach right?" Podrick asked.

"Right," Brienne agreed.

"And then she said ..." Podrick trailed off.

"One big and strong like you. One beautiful and wise like you" Brienne answered.

"So whoever she is talking about there must be two of them" Podrick stated.

Brienne's ears perked up, she was willing to hear anything at this point.

"Think about it. She keeps saying them and other things that imply more than one person being involved. First she tells you to watch over them. Then she says the one strong one beautiful thing. Then when they reach fifteen years, one must be sent back" Podrick explains.

"Okay that makes sense, but we still don't know who she was talking about" Brienne huffed.

"Maybe it's a kid or ya know, two of them. They don't even have fifteen years so they must be young lad. Hell it could be a baby for all we know"

Brienne's mind traveled back to her younger years in Tarth. She must've barely had ten years of age. She roamed freely around the isle swinging around whatever wooden stick she found to play pretend knight with for the day. Moira came rushing down from her fathers stall with exciting news. Her mother was going to be having a baby soon. The two rushed back up to the shops just so they could see whatever little bump the woman had grown. Brienne remembered her mother talking about how a woman always knows when she's pregnant.

The young tall blonde was repulsed by the idea of ever carrying another human being inside her belly because that meant settling down with a man and acting like a Lady. But she was curious to know how women could "always tell" when they're pregnant. Brienne reminisced back to the conversion with Moira's mother once more, now recalling something about sometimes feeling pain in her head or vomiting whenever she rose in the morning. She talked about feeling hungry and tired all of the time. She spoke of all of the things Sansa had been enduring for the past several weeks. The words of the woman replayed in Brienne's mind on a loop as the pieces began to fall in place.

"Seven Hells, Podrick!" Brienne exclaimed while shooting up to her feet.

"What, Ser?" Podrick stood up too out of nerves.

"The Queen is with child, or maybe even two!" Brienne shouted a little too loud.

The woman covered her mouth while immediately sitting back down. She figured if anyone did hear her, they'd think it was just a figment of their imagination as long as they couldn't locate her. Podrick looked at Brienne with a somewhat excited expression, on one hand he was glad the two could figure it out, but on the other he wondered how all of this came about. Was it really possible to use blood magic to impregnate someone?

"Well hang on a second. What makes you think that?" Podrick inquired.

"Podrick, the Queen is with child" Brienne was now certain of this.

"This was the work of blood magic, Ser. I'm not sure if it's something we should be smiling over" Podrick expressed his concern.

"Blood magic?" Brienne asked.

"She literally used your blood. Both you and the Queens, to make some sort of blood magic babies. What if they come out deformed or demented in some sort. Or what if they kill the Queen on their way out" Podrick rambled on.

"But what if they don't. What if they come out completely, normal healthy little babes that don't kill their mother on their way out." Brienne suggested.

"Well, are you going to tell the Queen what you know?" Podrick asked.

Brienne was too busy celebrating the discovery to think about how the Queen might react to her keeping this a secret for so long. She wondered if Sansa had figured out the real reason she was having a hard time keeping her late night snacks down the next morning. Brienne decided that she couldn't hold onto the secret anymore, especially now that she knew more of the truth behind what happened that night. She thanked Podrick for all of his help before rushing back from the Godswood.

The blonde desperately hoped that Sansa would understand why she chose not to say anything, she also hoped that things would work out okay. That the children didn't come out demented or take Sansa's life upon entry on their own. Because if things did somehow finally turn out okay for the blonde woman, she'd wind up with a family of her own. A family of her own choosing, one that she'd love and cherish unconditionally. Brienne walked straight into the castle grounds immediately spotting the backside of her Queen. Just as she reached out to grab the attention of the redhead, Arya Stark appeared from behind Sansa's larger stature.

"There she is!" Arya pointed out Brienne to Sansa.

Sansa turned around now facing Brienne, their eyes widened as they locked in with each other. The Queen was not expecting to see either of them so soon, especially being that she found out she was pregnant with zero memory of any form of sexual inertcourse with a man just a moment ago. Although Brienne talked herself up for this moment, now that it was staring her in the eye she began to crumble. Arya looked back and forth between the two noticing how strange they were both acting.

"Alright then" Arya remarked while lifting her heavy chest and lugged in into the castle.

Chapter Text

Sansa followed after her sister not wanting to be left alone with the Lord Commander just yet. As she walked up the stairs, she turned to look back towards Brienne. She read the expression on Brienne's face now realizing that her abrupt departure hurt her feelings. Sansa felt awful about shutting the woman out, especially because she didn't deserve it. She just needed more time to figure out how she could convincingly explain her innocence in all of this.The Queen's handmaidens helped Arya settle into her room while Sansa stood at the opposite end waiting for a free moment to speak with her sister.

"Seven hells, What's going on with you and why are you stalking me?" Arya questioned.

"I need to speak with you, privately" Sansa expressed nervously.

"We're in my private sleeping chamber" Arya eyes shifted around the room searching for another presence

"Just not here, please," Sansa pleaded.

Arya placed her things down before following Sansa out of the room. As she moved through the castle, a bittersweet feeling resonated inside her as she was reminded of her childhood here. She missed her brothers, her father, and her mother too. She was thankful that she still had her sister despite their somewhat difficult childhood. Arya's eyes wandered all over Winterfell seeing images of a smaller version of herself everywhere. The flapping sound of the sigil raised to the top of the castle caught her attention. She looked up to the sky, admiring the crowned wolf sigil. She was proud of her sister, her family name and everything she'd done for their home

The thought of family brought a young handsome dark haired man to the front of Arya's mind. Her heart practically sunk as she pictured the finality of seeing his face. She'd never forget the way she visibly saw his heart break when she told him she was finally leaving.. She felt guilty leaving him behind, hell she was leaving everyone behind, but she was determined to be in control of her own life.

Sansa brought the girl out to the Godswood, just before the uniquely eerie face of the weirwood tree. Arya hadn't been back here since she killed the Night King. It seemed all of Winterfell was taunting the girl with flashbacks of her life, which didn't help rid of the guilt boiling inside her. The Stark sisters sat with their backs against the rough bark of the tree and their bottoms a few feet apart. Sansa looked out towards the fields while Arya had a better view of the castle.

"Well, what did you bring me out here for?" Arya asked.

"Tell me about Storm's End first. How's Gendry, and Bran? What does Kings Landing look like these days?" Sansa tried to break the silence.

Arya fell silent sending a weird feeling down Sansa's back. Her sister was never quiet, not voluntarily at least. But Sansa had to remember that they really didn't know each other anymore, not with all the time they spent apart. Sansa turned her head slightly watching her sister fiddle with her fingers as she swayed her feet back and forth. The girl was very familiar with what distress looked like on a person because that's exactly how she had been feeling lately.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm here for you" Sansa placed a hand on top of Arya's.

Her sister gave her a small forced smile, one that resembles their father. Arya scooted closer to Sansa closing the gap of space between them. She hesitated to rest her head on her sister's shoulder. She couldn't remember the last time her and her system bonded physically. But right now, that didn't matter. Arya was in desperate need of genuine love and affection. She needed it more than she ever needed anything in life.

"I'm leaving Westeros" Arya finally said it outloud.

"What do you mean? Where are you going?" Sansa asked.

"I want to travel the world, Sansa." Arya continued.

"Well, What about Gendry?"

"I left him. I-I didn't want to. But Bran made him the fucking Lord of Storms End! What was I supposed to do, stay and marry him. Bear the little lords and remain confined to the south as his lady" Arya huffed out clearly emotionally distraught. "That's not me"

"And that's perfectly fine" Sansa supported Arya.

"Ha. I never imagined you being someone who could even begin to understand this feeling . You never did when we were little" Arya looked at her sister half surprised.

"When I was a little girl, I was unaware of what the world was really like. Maybe in spending so much time with our brothers you came to be this way. But you were practically born with your open to all the evil and deception in the world. I had to experience the death of our family at the hands of people I thought were loyal to us, repeatedly before finally learning to see the world the way you were born to see it." Sansa tried her best to relate to her sister. "But now, here I am a degenerate Queen in love with another woman. So I know what it's like to choose an unexpected path in spite of everyone suggesting otherwise"

Arya wrapped her small arms around her big sister and squeezed her tighter than she had the evening they were reunited for the first time in years. Back when she was still unsure of who her sister turned out to be. Even now she remained somewhat unsure, but she knew she loved the person she was getting to know.

"I truly did love him" Arya let a single tear slip.

"Well, maybe he'll still be there waiting when you come back." Sansa smiled, wiping her tears away.

The two sat out underneath the tree practically all day. Arya told Sansa a hundred stories about Storm's End, and the current state of the south. Sansa never got to see just how much damage Daenerys and her dragon did to the city. Bran was making progress on having the city rebuilt. He focused on pulling the people of King's Landing out of the filthy impoverished lifestyle they once lived while he waited for his kingdom to be rebuilt. The Red Keep was burned and collapsed almost entirely, leaving nothing but a foundation full of Ashes.

It took weeks for people to find their loved ones, some of which are still missing. Sansa empathized with her brother, she could understand if the boy was feeling any stress because she too was handed the reins to a broken down realm. The damage done in the North was drastic, but it didn't wipe out entire structures, except for the Wall.Which no longer held a purpose for existing.

"Now, are you finally going to talk to me about what's got you acting like Old Naan that time I put a spider in her tea?" Arya chuckled thinking back in the memory.

Just like that Sansa was brought back down to reality as a nauseous feeling washed over her. Arya placed her rough but still petite hand on top of Sansa's leg, she looked at her sympathetically without saying a word. Sansa breathed in deeply through her nose, closed her eyes as she held her breath then exhaled slowly.

"I- I haven't bled in weeks. I think I may be with child" Sansa confessed.

"Holy shit, well who's the father?" Arya exclaimed.

"Arya, I need you to look me straight in the eyes and hear me when I tell you that I have not slept with anyone." Sansa replied seriously.

"Well I didn't think I'd need to explain this to you, even though you are a bit of a prude. But if you're with child, then you must've" Arya laughed off her sister's expression.

"Arya!" Sansa began to grow angry.

The Queen moved from her butt to her knees, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ears before moving her hands to her back. The blades of grass rubbed up against the fabric of her dress, hopefully not staining it light hue with damp soil. She clasped onto the extra fabric around the waist and scrunched it up into a fist. The dress of course tightened from the pressure and pressed up against the girl's body like a drunken man to the floor. Arya looked at the small round bump that was forming on her body with wide eyes, then she diverted them to the look on Sansa's face. An expression of truth and worry was written on her face clearer than the ink on a scroll. Arya couldn't believe something like this could happen, especially to her sister.

"Well . . . what do you think happened? Do you think someone . . ." Arya asked with more compassion in her voice than before.

"I- I don't know what to think" Sansa sighed while releasing her grip on her clothes.

She sat back down under the tree, admiring its bright red leaves. Sansa watched as a singular red leaf was taken from its branch in a gust of wind. It floated down quickly, rocking back and forth, even doing loops in the air. It reminded her of her first time seeing Daenerys' dragons. She didn't know how to feel, on one hand she couldn't believe something so incredible existed again, but she also feared the dangers of the woman that came with them.

"I take it you haven't talked with Brienne then, either" Arya spoke softly.

"No, I have not" Sansa buried her hands in her face.

"Sansa, think about where you are. A Queen. Betrothed to a woman. Brienne would be a fool to think that you'd ever do anything to compromise that position. And I'm sure she knows you truly love her." Arya suggested.

Sansa thanked her sister for the kind words before requesting some privacy in the Godswood. She figured maybe talking to the Old Gods would bring her some peace and some strength to deal with the situation head on. Arya walked down the hill and back into the castle grounds. The scent of wet mud mixed with the sound of Valyrian steel clanking sent adrenaline into her small frame. As she approached the sparring grounds she hoped that Brienne would be on the other side of the wall, and she was. Brienne and Ser Galvin, a man still unfamiliar to the youngest Stark sister, sparred intensely, it almost looked as if they were actually fighting. Arya could tell by the look on Brienne's face she was frustrated with something, which was the most riveting condition to spar with someone in.

"Can I have a turn?" Arya smiled, holding her hands behind her back.

The two stopped dead in their tracks and turned to the girl. Arya moved closer to the pair now fully halting their session. She didn't feel like waiting, she knew Brienne was one of the best fighters in Westeros and she enjoyed sparring with the woman. She also saw this as an opportunity to talk to Brienne and gage where head has been with Sana acting strange.

"Well alright. Ser Galvin this is Lady Arya Stark, Arya this is Ser Galvin a member of your sisters Queensguard" Arya introduced the two.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, My Lady" Ser Galvin bowed.

"You as well, Ser" Arya responded quickly so she could begin to spar.

She drew needle smirking at Brienne in memory of the last time they did this. Ser Galvin sat on one of the barrels next to the horses stable, watching as the two prepared to fight.

"I need to have a talk with you" Arya whispered before striking first.

Brienne quickly lifted up her sword allowing the two steels to clash loudly. She twisted herself out of their current position before taking a jab at Aryas lower right side. The girl moved out of the way just in time to seize an opportunity to hit Brienne's shoulder.

"On what grounds?" Brienne huffed out.

"Your Queen," Arya replied, dodging multiple swings.

"Alright then, talk" Brienne replied.

The two went at it intensely. Everytime Brienne swung, Arya would dodge or block it with her own sword, and vice versa. Ser Galvin watched the two in awe of how powerful these two women were, making him regret a lot of things he said in the past.

"How's she been lately?" Arya asked.

"Weren't you just with her?" Brienne answered.

"I want to hear it from you," Arya insisted.

"Well, she's been avoiding me like I've been plagued with greyscale" Brienne dropped her sword.

The two were exhausted from talking and fighting at the same time. Brienne asked Ser Galvin for some privacy so they could talk more openly about whatever it was that Arya was getting at.

"Maybe you should try and have a talk with her" Arya suggested while sitting on a barrel herself.

"I can't have a talk with someone who's been literally running away from me" Brienne said in reference to earlier.

"So don't allow her to run,next time" Arya suggested as if it were that simple.

"Plus, I don't know if I can face her," Brienne mumbled.

She thought Arya didn't hear those words but she did. The small brunette's mind wondered why Brienne could possibly be feeling that way. She thought maybe Brienne already knew something about the Queen's condition. Arya didn't want her mind to wander too far because if Brienne knew something, that meant she was keeping it a secret from Sansa. She could've even been in on the assault of her sister. When Arya said those things to Sansa about trusting Brienne's love, she only said that in support of her emotionally fragile sister. Arya learned to never trust a soul, not even the one you love most.

"Why can't you face her?" Arya pried.

"Because . . . I'm afraid she'll never forgive me" Brienne confessed.

That didn't help to dismiss Arya's suspicion about Brienne's involvement at all. She tried her best to keep composure but she could feel her blood begin to boil at the images in her mind.

"What do you mean, Lord Commander?" Arya played along.

"I . . . allowed for this to happen and then I kept it secret from her" Brienne buried her head into her hands.

Arya stood up slowly grasping the handle of Needle. She began to draw him very stealthily so Brienne would never see it coming. Arya looked through one of the arches that enclosed the sparring quarters, making sure no one was around to see what she was about to do. She grabbed the collar of Brienne's shirt and held the sharp end of Needle right up to her throat.

"Tell me what you've done to my sister. Lie to me and I'll slit your throat" Arya threatened her.

"What- what are you doing?" Brienne's eyes went wide as she tried to pull back from the girl.

"What happened to her? Did you let a man take advantage of her? What did you get out of agreeing to something so vile?" Arya questioned the woman trying not to cause a scene.

"No, absolutely not. I didn't let anyone do anything with Sansa. Seven hells, Arya! What are you going on about?" Brienne pleaded.

"My sister is with child and has never laid with a man. Not voluntarily at least" Arya pushed the blade up against her throat.

"Arya, I didn't allow for anything to happen to the Queen. I swear it . . . but I do know how it happened" Brienne confessed.

Brienne placed her hand on Needle pushing it away from her throat, which Arya allowed. She slipped it back into the tan holder then sat just above her hip. Arya sat back down on the wooden crate giving Brienne the floor to explain. Brienne told her all about Sansa's illness, their journey beyond the wall, the medicine, and the woman in black. She explained to Arya that she just pieced together all of the information earlier that day which is why she was so afraid to tell Sansa.

"Wow, okay." Arya responded while processing the information. "Well, your Queen definitely knows that she is with child. But she's been avoiding you because she doesn't think you'll believe her when she tells you she doesn't know how. Being that you have that missing piece of that puzzle, I think she'll be more relieved to hear that you still love he above anything elser"

Arya's words stuck to Brienne. She thanked Arya before leaving the sparring corridors to find her Queen. Brienne asked around the castle grounds for knowledge of the Queen's whereabouts. She was told that the Queen had gone back to her sleeping chambers due to feeling a slightly discomfiting level of exhaustion. Brienne hurried up the stairs, brushed past the guards, and entered the room without knocking.

The redhead's eyes froze like deer during hunting season, the floor of her dress was tucked up her chin, and her hands laid on her small stomach. She quickly brushed her dress down and turned back to Brienne. The blonde smiled softly as she gently closed the bedroom door behind her and moved towards the Queen. The sun was almost gone, leaving nothing but the moon and candles to light up the castle. The Queen already had a few of them lit, casting a small shadow onto the high walls of their room. Brienne placed her hand on Sansa's shoulder and gently turned the girl around. Their eyes locked as Brienne moved her hand from the girl's shoulder to her rounded belly. Sansa's eyes began to water at the thought of Brienne knowing her secret.

"Oh my love. Please don't cry. There's nothing in all of Westeros that could make me stop loving you, not even death itself." Brienne hugged the girl.

Sansa's heart fluttered at the words Brienne spoke to her. She had been holding her breath all day in the hopes that when she did finally tell Brienne, she'd utter those exact words. Despite actually weighing a few pounds heavier, Sansa felt ten times lighter. But she couldn't help but notice an energy in Brienne that suggested she too was harboring something.

"Bri, what is it?" Sansa asked.

After taking the time to carefully explain everything that happened, Brienne and Sansa both fell completely silent. Sansa stood with her back to Brienne, her left arm tucked under her right as she nibbled at her fingernails. Brienne's sweet voice explaining the story raced through her mind. She was relieved to know that nothing had happened to her, but then in a way something did happen. She still felt somewhat defiled but in a different manner, and slightly angry with Brienne for keeping it a secret.

"Why are you only telling me this now?" Sansa cried while turning to face Brienne.

Brienne stood feeling guilty for not only witnessing the Queen cry, but causing the tears themselves.

"I wanted to be sure of her words before telling you. I had no idea . . . if I knew you'd be . . . I shouldn't have lied. I'm sorry." Brienne couldn't find the words.

"It's alright" Sansa smiled softly at Brienne.

There was no reason to be angry at Brienne, regardless of her knowing or not, babes were growing inside of her. She wondered how far along she was before the fear of childbirth began to cast a small shadow over her thoughts. Not only was she aware of the fact that it was incredibly painful but it often killed women. It was something she never thought she'd have to prepare for ever since she found Brienne. The thought of possibly having children with Brienne felt funny to her, almost like a dream so unrealistic that you had to suppress your mind's memory in order to deal with the painful reality of it, never even being a possibility. Sansa found herself living out a suppressed dream, in real life. She wondered what sort of blood magic was used on her, if it was safe, and if it was anything in relation to what she'd seen the Red Woman do

"I want to ask you something, but I'm afraid" Sansa spoke.

"You can ask me anything, my love." Brienne cupped Sansa's cheek.

"What if the babes are a curse?" Sansa spoke in fear.

"If the babes are cursed . . . we'll have to deal with it then. But in the meantime let's not think such dreadful things." Brienne said gently, leaving a kiss on the girl's temple.

''What if the babes are a blessing. One like me, big and strong, and one like you, beautiful and wise?"

"That would be perfect," Sansa smiled.

Chapter Text

Arya had come and gone at the same rate the days turned to night. After helping Brienne and Sansa with their secret she didn't stick around too much longer. Sansa hugged her sister and cried hysterically as the girl began to pick up her bags. The two had never shared a moment as emotional as this. Arya felt somewhat unsettled with herself and her sister, then she remembered the rapid change in Sansa's hormones held most of the responsibility for the hug Arrya was engulfed in. She had heard all about how pregnant women became hysterical at something as simple as the sight of a fallen wounded bird. Brienne and Arya look at each other the entire time Sansa weeped on the shorter girl's shoulder, trying not to laugh. Arya was off to Widows Watch that way she could get herself a ship and sail south of Westeros, she claimed she may even stop at Tarth on her way out.

A little over a month had gone by since the youngest living Stark sister left home for good. Meanwhile, things in the castle remained eerily still. No attacks, no sightings, no killings, nothing from the Bolton man who called himself 'Hawk'. Sansa had plans to talk more with Gareth later in the day, that was if she could find the strength to pull herself out of bed this morning. A small circular shaped beam of light shined into the Queen's sleeping chambers practically blinding the redhead's eyes as she woke. The window was left open throughout the night, allowing for the cool still weather to control the temperature of their room. Sansa looked to her left, long, tan wool fabric covered legs tangled up in the now wrinkled sheets.

The blonde laid on her stomach, her head turned slightly to the left against the soft pillow while her feet stopped just before the foot of the bed. Her right arm remained at her side and the dead weight of her was draped over Sansa's body, her large sprawled out fingers sat on top of Sansa's growing stomach. The Queen spent a decent portion of the night tossing and turning. She struggled to learn how to sleep comfortably with a belly as round as hers. So of course, being both sleep deprived and overly hormonal, when her eyes opened for the first time this morning she found herself feeling irritable with the world.

The way the open window left goosebumps on her arm, the nauseating feeling brewing in her stomach, and the crushing weight of Brienne's lingering limp arm, all served to pluck the nerves of the Queen. She pushed Brienne's arm off roughly and the huff she let out brought Brienne out of her deep slumber. Brienne lifted her head whilst blinking repeatedly in an attempt to clear the morning haze distorting her vision. Her sight settled on Sansa. Confusion set in on the blonde as she now had a clear view of the Stark girl's vicious side eye. Brienne's mind was lost in its morning delirium to process her expression, so she plopped her head back down against the pillow and shut her eyes.

"So you just plan on pretending as if I'm not here" Sansa 's voice shot into the darkness. Brienne's eyes opened once more.

"What?" Brienne groaned.

"Nevermind" Sansa huffed before scooting out of bed to relieve bladder..

Brienne rolled over onto her back now occupying the remaining free space. She pulled her thumb and index finger together over her eyebrows, pinching the bridge of her nose at the end. Her mind dwelled on her last few interactions with the Queen before pulling her to full understanding of what just happened. Sansa came back into the room, her stomach was practically visible in everything she wore, including the nightgown she currently had on. Which meant she needed to be extra careful. She wasn't prepared to tell anyone just yet, and truthfully she hadn't put much thought into what could possibly prepare her for something like this.

"It's nice to see you in such high spirits this morning, Your Grace" Brienne spoke sarcastically.

Sansa grabbed the crinkled pillow she rested against from behind and swung it downwards harshly. She hit the back of Brienne's, sending her head forward and her face firmly pressed into the silk sheets. All of the curly platinum blonde strands sprawled forward at the force of impact. It had been a minute since the woman had a trim. It hadn't grown to be this long in over ten years. She had been contemplating cutting it back to its usual short length, unsure of whether or not it was something she really wanted.. She could still be the well-respected Lord Commander they all knew her to be with long pretty hair, right?

Brienne waited for Sansa to turn her back before grabbing another pillow from off of the bed, now launching it at the Queen. She hit the girl's lower back side with a wide grin. Sansa's hips jolted forward as she gasped at the starling impact of the pillow colliding with her body. She picked the cushion from off the floor before letting a smiling screech pour from her mouth as she charged towards Brienne.

Just as she raised it over her head, preparing to strike the Lord Commander once more. Brienne suddenly lunged at Sansa. She wrapped her arms around the waist of the girl who now dandled somewhat over her shoulder. Sansa struck her with the brutal plush force of the pillow over and over again. Her legs kicked in the air, as if she were swimming in the sea before Brienne gently tossed her back onto the bed. Now on her back with the big blonde looming over her, Sansa rested again her elbows grinning at the suggestive position they were in.

"Be careful," Sansa teased, still out of breath from all the commotion. "Pregnant women aren't meant to be thrown around"

"Hey, you're the one that started all this," Brienne panted out too.

This morning practically played in slow motion for Brienne. She felt as if the images her eyes formed were merely a dream, more specifically the ones she had as a little girl. She'd drift into a deep sleep as the midnight sky darkened whatever little light remained on the isle. When she opened her eyes, now standing tall in the tethered world of consciousness, she realized she was now a man. She'd strut through her castle with her head held high as the beautiful women of the island passed suggestive advances to the highlord. Tasked with finding the woman in her fantasy, she'd roam the halls looking for the familiarity of a face she'd never seen before. Just as the male version of Brienne would reach out to the door that stood between her and her beautiful bride, the sun of the next morning would burn through her windows and rip her back into reality.

Brienne often found herself staring at the Queen, in awe of finally meeting the woman who taunted her from behind a door. In awe of finally living the life of a man. She was enraptured with the genuine glowing grin spread across Sansa's perfect porcelain face. Then her eyes fell to where the Queen carried her babes, another glimpse of her dreams flashed her mind. The mysterious yet tempting experiences of life as a knight in Westeros daunted over Brienne for as long as she could remember. Although she hadn't checked the boxes of all her wants and desires in life, she grew content with the way things worked out for her.

Brienne admired the redheads protruding stomach, feeling tempted to put her hand over the bump. Sansa sat up straight, now looking up at the Lord Commander. She parted her legs slightly, allowing for Brienne to stand in the gap between them. With their gazes still locked in on one another, Sansa's placed her hand against Brienne. Her fingertips slightly frosted from the everlasting draft created by the air seeping through the open window. She placed it onto her stomach, now floating away blissfully at the feel of a loving firm hand

"How can we be sure you're eating enough?" Brienne asked while rubbing thumb over the bump.

"I've been eating plenty, look at me!" Sansa exclaimed.

"I know. But if you really are carrying twins. Maybe you should just tell the Maester of our suspicions. Just so he can make sure you're all still in good health" Brienne expressed a concern. She moved the hand on Sansa's stomach to her face, now cupping her sleek rosy cheek.

"You worry too much" Sansa rested her head in Brienne's hand.

"Worrying about you is my job. I'm supposed to be watching over you, all of you" Brienne bent down over slightly to press a kiss onto the Queen's forehead.

Brienne moved to the wardrobe on the opposite side of the room shivering as a chill ran down her spine. Sansa rose from bed temporarily to close the window before returning back to the comfort of their mattress. The blonde woman struck a flint and steel together over a piece of crinkled up paper repeatedly until it caught fire. She tossed the flaming paper underneath the mixture of both burnt and unburned logs. The woman rubbed her hands back and forth as she stood over the firepit, waiting for it to grow large and warm. She began to undo her night shirt when she noticed the girl had become unusually quiet in both speech and movement.

"What's on your mind, my love?" Brienne asked with her back still turned.

"I wonder what she means when she says we must send one back to her. Do you really think she expects us to send our children beyond the northern line without the slightest clue of where they're going and why they're there." Sansa was worried.

The couple had done nothing but bask in the glory of what may possibly just be two healthy normal babes. Brienne had been pushing out whatever negative thoughts that came in regards to her children which definitely included the part where they'd eventually have having to send them to an unfamiliar land

"So, we don't send them," Brienne responded.

"Bri, we've created life with blood magic. What makes you think we can go rogue on our end of the deal, and manage get away with it?" Sansa asked, thinking somewhat more realistically than Brienne.

"I don't know, my love. But I wish to speak of this no further. Everything will be just fine" Brienne pushed out the conversation.

Sansa's eyes burned a hole into the backside of Brienne for several seconds. To Brienne these eyes felt like a predator watching her in the woods, waiting to pounce and make judgment on her fate. When in actuality they were eyes of endearment. Eyes of love, adoration and fear. Of course Sansa didn't like the idea of pretending like there weren't things to have concerns over. But she could tell that the weight of those concerns felt heavier to Brienne as if fell upon them both.

Three hollow knocks came from the other side of the wooden door. Both of the Queen's handmaids entered the room. Lena made a beeline towards the bed before quickly pulling the sheets off the bed. She balled them up while moving around swiftly. Lena replicated every single step of the routine she had created for the Queen, as if she were programmed to do so. Maedalyn found herself by the Lord Commander's side, offering to help her dress. She shook her head, politely declining. Brienne's level of discomfort was at its peak when others waited on her hand and foot. The pampering was more for the Queen, and Brienne preferred it that way.

"Master Horden is outside with news, says it's urgent" Lena informed Sansa.

"Alright. Find something loose to help me cover up this belly." Sansa held her hands to her stomach.

"I'm off, take it easy please" Brienne kissed her forehead before disappearing in the castle halls.

Standing just outside the walls of Castle Winterfell was Podrick, Ilizabeth, and Gareth. The young boy revealed himself to be quite persistent. No matter how many times Pordrick shooed him off, he kept coming back, begging Podrick to take him outside of the castle. He caved eventually, now taking the boy and their bows out in the open field. The two had been practicing shooting for a few weeks now. His skills seemed to be advancing at a rapid rate. Just yesterday, Gartehs shaggy sandy brown hair bounced up and down as he wailed loudly. He pleaded for Podrick to take him back out, as the adrenaline from coming just a few inches shy of finally hitting something raced through his frail body. Podrick wondered how a boy his age could still be so childlike.

Podrick and Ilizabeth lagged behind the boy hand in hand. They tried to spend as much time together as they could, especially because the knights of Winterfell were always busy with training, keeping watch, traveling to other castles and whatever else the Queen asked of them. She accompanied Podrick on whatever obscure missions he set out for himself in an attempt to spend more time with him. Sometimes she'd regret following after the man, one time they wandered aimlessly out into the forest walking for miles before realizing they were lost. After vanishing for hours, the Queen sent someone looking for them just as the sun began to fall.

Truthfully, she liked following after someone so goofy and impulsive. He was a lot different than anyone she knew back home and Winterfell would be beyond boring without Podrick and his spontaneity. The two were set to get married here in Winterfell soon and the closer they arrived to the date the more they struggled with keeping their hands to themselves. Podrick had fooled around with other women before, his first time was in a brothel. It was safe to say the man had experience. But Ilizabeth, she had never done anything like that before, and the thought of it terrified her.

"Podrick, I don't see any rabbits" Gareth whined.

"Keep looking, and stay quiet or you'll scare them" Podrick whispered back to the boy.

Podrick turned his attention back to the story Ilizabeth was telling him. After Brienne had vanished from the island, her and her younger sister sulked around for weeks. They'd sit along the shore everyday, waiting for her return as the merciless rays of the sun burned their tan skin. She hoped that in telling the story, Podrick would learn how much she valued her family and how the guilt she carried from leaving Rilly ate away at her consciousness like maggots. First it was their mom, then their brothers, then Brienne and now she was gone too.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. That's just what happens when ya grow up" Podrick tired to console her.

"It doesn't make it any easier though" Ilizabeth replied defeatedly.

"I know, my love. Maybe after we wed, we'll take a trip to Tarth. I'm sure the Queen would be happy to send us" Podrick exclaimed.

"That would be lovely." Ilizabeth smiled, touching the boy's cheek gently.

Gareth stopped dead in his tracks as the three arrived at the top of a small hill. Still frozen in place, now trembling slightly, his breathing grew heavier as he couldn't take his eyes off the horrific image waiting for him at the bottom of the hill. Suddenly, the wind stopped blowing. The trees went still, leaving for the dreadful sound of motionless air and babbles from the stream alongside them to take its place. Podrick and Ilizabeth slowly walked up behind Gareth, not wanting to startle him or the rabbit they suspected he'd seen. Pod grew confused as he inched closer to the boy, wondering why he hadn't drawn his weapon yet. As Podricks view became clearer with every step he took towards it, the more the stench of rotting corpses tickled the hairs in his nose

"What is that?" Gareth looked out onto the field horrified.

Podrick desperately tried to swallow the lump in his throat. The sweat forming at his hairline beaded down his face as his expression grew fearful. With his eyebrows cowered inwards, his lips slightly parted, and a heartbeat pounding louder than the drum at a King's wedding, Podrick began to walk down towards the display. The blackened bodies laid dead in the field, lined up in the shape of an 'X'. He covered his nose and mouth quickly as he advanced into the invisible cloud of fruitful undertones in putrid flesh. He wondered how he was supposed to tell the Queen about the sixteen men who were skinned alive before being killed and burnt without causing her distress. He stammered backwards as his fleet slipped down the slick grass of the steep hill. He grabbed both Ilizabeth and Gareth, turning them around before sprinting back to the castle.

Meanwhile, after the Queen had finally finished dressing and tended to the needs of Ser Eddam. She strolled down the halls of the castle before entering her private meeting chambers where three women stood already waiting for her. The freefolk women had plenty of time to tend to the needs of their castle after Sansas first left the Dreadfort. Their blacksmith learned how to make proper armor, and their population grew dramatically.They wore chest plates and helmets only. Still leaving their arms and legs bare so they could move smoothly on the battlefield. Sansa didn't mind their unusual look, she trusted the way the freefolk were taught to fight and witnessed first hand how they could hold their own in battle without any armor. They rose to their feet in presence of the Queen, then sat back down after being greeted.

"We have news from Dreadfort, Your Grace" One spoke, handing Sansa a rolled up scroll..

Sansa licked the back of her thumb before grasping at the wax that sealed the paper together. She unraveled the thin soy stained paper and read the words to herself...

Your Grace,

I hope this letter finds you well. Though I don't have news on the Hawk. I'm writing to inform you that sixteen of my women have vanished from their patrol posts, typically at night. I've made the appropriate changes to prevent further disappearances, but I get this feeling this has something to do with you know who.

-   Lady Faran Hawthlorne                             

Sansa quickly rolled the scroll back up and slipped it into the left hand drawer of her desk. She pulled out a piece of paper, dipped her quill in ink, and began to scribble.

Lady Faran,

It brings me a great displeasure to hear to that your women have gone missing. I'll be sure to pray for their safe return. I want you to keep extra communication with me. We'll keep sending knights so the letters aren't intercepted by you know who. Seven blessing to youu.

-   Queen Sansa Stark                                    

As she began to roll up the scroll, the door to the meeting chambers flew open. Sansa quickly tucked the letter away before rising to her feet to see what was so urgent. Just as she was about to scold whoever was brave enough to enter the Queen's private quarters without permission, she noticed a very sweaty and panicked Podrick. He leaned against the door still holding the knob as he panting like a dehydrated dog. The four women stared at the man, waiting for him to say something.

"Your Grace, we've found something in the forest." Podrick exulted.

Chapter Text

Just a few weeks back, the wondrous woods of Winterfell radiated a vibrant green. Now the leaves of twenty foot trees have changed to something with a bigger variation of color. The foliage of the trees painted the forest with streaks of sunkist orange, blood red, and lemon cake yellow. A time that almost everyone in Winterfell loved, almost as much as they loved the look of the cold dead forest in the winter. They found themselves fascinated with the color, never once questioning how something on the drink of death could be so beautiful.

The Queen and her army confirmed that the sixteen skinned bodies Podrick found in the forest a few weeks ago were in fact the women missing from the Dreadfort. She sent her army out looking for any trace of the man, they searched for almost two weeks and found nothing, not a single blade of grass out of place. The way the man toyed with her and her realm was infuriating. It forced Sansa into a corner, now having to inform the castle of threat upon them. In fear of losing any more northerners, she invited all of Winterfell inside the inner castle walls for a meeting. Half of her still stood on the other side of the fence, pondering if informing the people would serve a purpose beyond panic.

Safety protocols and Hawks weren't the only thing on Sansa's agenda. She'd finally confided in Maester Horden about her secret. To her surprise, the man didn't react negatively, nor did he ask any questions. He did make sure he expressed his displeasure with the Queen for hiding her condition. Based on the timeline of the events Sansa had relayed to him, he predicted that Sansa would be heading into labor shortly after her wedding. No highborn in the history of Westeros had a public wedding while being visibly pregnant. As the day slowly crept forward she tried to focus less on the different sorts of stories and slander people would whisper behind her back.

The people of Winterfell flooded just outside the castle piling up on one another as they waited to hear from the Queen. Excited at the opportunity to finally see the Queen up and personal, a few members in the crowd began to shout for her. Even the young children of Winterfell adored Sansa and so did most of their parents. The knights of Winterfell lined up along the ground floor making sure no one attempted to climb up the stairs and overstep their relationship with the Queen. She decided she would remain on the balcony, that way she could see everyone and address with them the respect she felt they deserved.

Lady Sansa stood in front of the door that led to the balcony of the castle where she would soon give her speech. Her hands wrapped hands around her belly through the loads of extra fabric put into the dress in attempts to hide her bump. Her chest rose as her lungs filled with air. Counting backwards, she sits for five seconds before exhaling slowly. The words she spent writing down all night ran through her mind once more. Lena grabbed a small stool, using it in compensation for her inferior height as she placed the crown on Sansa's head. The handmaiden made sure it was perfectly centered against her fiery red hair before stepping back to give the Queen space.

The Queen grasped onto the cold doorknob twisting and pulling it towards her. A gust of cool fall air slipped through the doorway blowing Sansa's hair and dress back in a way that enhanced her elegance. She stepped forward now resting a hand on the railing. A growing roar filled the air as the people jumped up and down. Some clapped, some whistled, others thrusted their arms into the air. They ambushed her with compliments on her appearance and wardrobe. She smiled widely, waving out to her beloved children. She waited for their shouts to settle before finally speaking to the people.

"Good Evening, Winterfell. I feel a great pleasure in speaking to you all here today. I hope everyone is enjoying the lovely ever changing colors of the forest. Please be sure to prepare yourself and your homes for Winter, as it is just around the corner" Sansa paused.

Sansa's palms began to sweat leaving a clammy damp residue on the surface. Although the weather was chilly , Sansa couldn't help but feel hot. Her face was heating up like it did when she leaned over the firepit in her chambers. The girl just knew her pale complexion was now flushed. She practiced her breathing like she had been doing for months before continuing to speak.

"Now, I'm afraid I must move on to more troubling matters. Some of you may remember the fall of this great castle, when Roose and Ramsay Bolton betrayed my mother and brother by putting knives to their backs and taking over our home. After Jon and I fought to get it back we thought we'd ended the traitorous House Bolton . . . we were mistaken" Sansa spoke.

The crowd gasped. Children turned to their mothers, their mothers turned to their husbands, and the fathers gripped their family members tightly. An alarmed awe resonated within them as they cowered at the words of their Queen.

"A man calling himself Hawk has claimed to be King in the North, still feeling somewhat entitled to what his usurper father." Sansa began to get fired up.

"We have reason to believe him or his men were not far from our home just a few weeks ago. That being said please, do not travel at night, if you must travel do no fewer than three." She continued.

"This is not a message that should inspire you to live in fear. Winterfell is the heart of the North, and any man who wishes to storm our gates is asking to be confined to the seventh hell!" Sansa excited the crowd.

They shouted, cheered, and chanted her name loudly once more. Sansa watched as two young boys wrapped their arms around each other thrusting their fists in the air. The pair reminded her of Bran and Rickon when they were their age. As much as Sansa wanted to bask in the joy of exciting her people, she had only gotten over the first hump. She laughed nervously as the people continued to shout out to her. Sansa signaled for the horn-boy to collect the attention of the crowd

"That's not all.. As many of you know I am betrothed to the Lord Commander, Ser Brtienne of Tarth. I'm aware of how that might still bring some doubt or discomfort to some of you. I hope that in due time you will realize I've made this decision while keeping both myself and the realms best interest at heart. Words cannot express how gracious I am to you all for giving something new, a fair chance. Surviving the Battle of Winterfell has changed the way we view our world, and I'm glad that it has. That being said . . . I am with child." Sansa spoke blatantly.

This time instead of gasps and murmurs the castle fell completely silent. Sansa was left with the sound of whistling winds and squalling ravens to fill her anxiety riddled body. As her eyes scanned the crowd she noticed Brienne standing with a stone cold face looking out towards the crowd. Half of them were looking back at her, while the other half kept their eyes on the Queen now looking for signs of pregnancy. Brienne's eyes diverted up towards Sansa's briefly. She wanted to show the redhead that she was still there for her despite being lawfully confined to her place.

"I'm sure you're all wondering how something like that could be possible. And my answer to that is . . . that you'll just have to remain in wonder. That is all, seven blessings to you" Sansa spoke before rushing off.

The knights of Winterfell made sure everyone exited the castle grounds swiftly and safely. They tried their best to ignore the chatter from the crowd out of respect for the Queen but they too had the same questions. Some spoke of Sansa finally craving a man's touch, others falsely confirmed the rumors of Brienne being born half woman half man like many others had already suspected. Some spoke in excitement for the Queen and her realm while others spoke of the castle now being cursed by blood magic.

Brienne stood impatiently in her position. Her fingers twitched as she fought the desperate desire to check on the Queen. Still, she remained at her post. Brienne's legs moved rapidly as she patrolled the castle grounds looking for anyone who lingered behind. After confirming that everyone who was here was accounted for, she moved back towards the front of the castle. Just as she was about to turn the stairwell, someone grabbed her arm. She faced Ser Galvin and the rest of the Queensguard standing behind him, waiting eagerly for Brienne to say something, anything.

"Lord Commander, do you have something you wish to tell us?" Ser Galvin smirked.

"Not now, Ser Galvin" Brienne dismissed the man in a serious tone.

"Apologies, Lord Commander. We just wanted to congratulate you. " Ser Galvin nodded genuinely.

She read the expression on their faces. Her heart melted slightly as the genuinity of their words. She placed a hand on his shoulder, first making eye contact with Ser Galvin then the other men. Brienne nodded graciously. She continued frantically up the stairs before finally arriving outside the door. All of her sudden movements caused a few strands of curly blonde hair to fall out of place. She ran her hands off her head, pushing it back out of her back as she took a few seconds to catch her breath. After the last exhale, she bawled her hand into a fist and knocked on the wooden door

"Who is it?" Lena called.

"The Lord Commander," She replied.

The door opened and just as Brienne slipped through the door the two handmaidens slipped out. She moved further into the room looking intently towards Sansa as she tried to read her body language. Judging by the fact that she wasn't crawled into a ball full of tears, Brienne took her demeanor for being somewhat okay for now. She was glad to see that the girl was going okay, but still she wondered what thoughts raced through Sansa's mind.

"That was a stellar speech, Your Grace" Brienne complimented her.

"I need you right now, not the Lord Commander"

Brienne removed her weapon belt and placed her helmet on the chair that sat across from the foot of their bed. She sat down next to the Queen causing the left side of the bed to sink in. Brienne took Sansa's delicate hand into her firm calloused one now drawing her attention to the Queen's piercing blue eyes.

"I'm afraid of what they'll say behind my back." Sansa admitted.

"My love, let the people think whatever they want. They'll know nothing, and we'll know the truth. That the babes came from an act of something pure and good. That's all that matters" Brienne cupped the girl's face.

Sansa pressed her dry thin lips up against Brienne's. She loved the way the woman was able to recenter Sansa's calmness. The two barely had any time alone lately, except for when it was time for bed. When they both were too exhausted to exchange more than an 'I love you' before rolling over and drifting off. Brienne cupped Sansa's cheek, pulling her in deeper. Sansa felt a warm convulsing pulse coming from between her legs. Lately she had been craving the Lord Commander's in every way possible, but was too nervous to utter the words out loud. The two pulled apart in fear of it going further than they both so desperately wanted it to.They reminded themselves that soon enough, they'd marry and be free to do whatever they pleased to one another.

"You're not allowed to kiss me like that anymore" Sansa joked while pushing the woman's face away.

"How come?" Brienne teased.

"Because, oh- " Sansa's smile dropped.

Brienne was startled by Sansa's sudden jolt forward. She worried that the girl was going into labor, or that something was wrong with the babies. Sansa breathed in through gritted teeth, and exhaled through pursed lips. She moved her hand to her stomach feeling one of her babies kicking against the wall of her stomach.

"They're kicking!" Sansa exclaimed.

She grabbed Brienne's hand, quickly placing it on top of the spot where the baby was kicking. Brienne searched Sansa's eyes as she waited for the kicking to start up again. She felt a few quick taps connect with the palm of her hand. A smile grew on the two's faces, the pure joy they felt was enough to cheer on all of Westeros.

"My big strong boy is training there," Brienne said.

"What if they're girls?" Sansa asked amusingly.

"Then my big strong girl is training in there!" She shrugged.

Chapter Text

House Payne and House Tarth are scheduled to go before the Old Gods and ask for their blessing in merrily unifying the two houses. The Queen made sure Podrick and Ilizabeth were granted everything they wished for in order to ensure their private wedding was a day filled with love and stories to tell their children, and their children's children. She handled the expenses for food, flowers, and whatever form of small level of entertainment they requested. Having personally oversaw the decision making in terms of wardrobe, Sansa made sure they would both look their absolute best. Although the bride's appearance was naturally appealing, the way Ilizabeth's stretched petite frame enhanced the size of her breasts made her wedding gown look more beyond beautiful. Ever since they first laid eyes on each other, the engaged couple could not stop talking about how they were set to marry soon, and finally, that day arrived.

Brienne stood with Podrick, Weslyy, and Gordar inside of the boy's private chambers, making sure he remained in high spirits for the day. Jaslyn, Sansa's favorite seamstress in Winterfell aside from her mother, old nan, and herself, was put in charge of sewing the outfits together being that the Queen was preoccupied with a handful of things. The middle aged northern woman performance was more than stellar and Sansa was sure to pay extra thanks for her hard work.

The three sat on whatever surfaces sprawled out across the room, all watching Podrick. Maedalyn held his well polished doublet out, slipping his arms into the sleeves first. She moved to his front and pulled the opening of the top further onto his shoulder gently. The base of his doublet was golden with thinly threaded rhombus shaped patterns sewn repeatedly in purple throughout the chest. The sleeves were made from thick plain black wool, serving to protect the boy from the bleak weather. Her gently hard working hands rubbed against his chest in a downward motion smoothing out the fabric of the doublet to perfection. The bottom hem of it came down at the middle of the boy's shins, leaving only a slither of the wool black pants that matched his sleeves well. She took a step back to get a final good look at him. Her eyes trailed down to his tall brown leather boots that sat up stiffly over pants legs before pressing her hands together in a satisfied sigh.

"Is this what it's like to be a Queen?" Weslyy asked Brienne.

The woman's mind was far from the contents of whatever conversation they had. Lately she couldn't help but feel an overwhelming need to be close to her lover at all times. She often found herself crippled in a state of worry whenever a few hours without hearing from the Queen went by. Still, the more she spent her days all working up, the closer she was to leaving them behind. Her anticipation skyrocketed today, realizing that after Podricks wedding finally came hers.

"What was that?" Brienne asks, snapping out of her haze.

"I asked if you're pampered like this every morning too?" Weslyy smirked.

She now laid eyes on Podrick who couldn't stop itching the area where the collar of his doublet chafed against his neck. His stubby grimy nails clawed at his neck collecting some of the dead skin follicles underneath it. He left a hot slushed mark just underneath the right side of his jaw. Laughter built inside of Brienne and Weslyy as they watched Podricks nerves pour out of him.

"No, that's just the Queen," Brienne laughed.

"But you'll soon be a Queen too" He spoke.

A Queen. Before meeting Sansa, Brienne had said that word fewer than ten times in her entire life. The concept of a woman leading the realms of Westeros was either very short lived, or completely unheard of. She never thought she'd see one in her lifetime, nor did she predict ever falling in love with one. But becoming one? Until this very moment, she'd put zero thought into the idea. Still, it remained true. In marrying the Queen, she would be one too. A benign lump formed in her throat as she began to think of the attention they'd receive. Her public speaking anxiety rose at the thought of ever having to address the realm as a Queen.

"You're right, I suppose." She responded shortly. Now confiding in the man, she asked "Is it normal for me to be repulsed by the idea of being a Queen?"

"Well I wouldn't want to be a Queen either. You rather us call you King?" Weslyy he slapped her shoulder back.

"No"

Brienne rolled her eyes at the lack of serious-mindedness all the knights of Winterfell seemed to be afflicted with.She didn't need anyone else thinking she was any less of a woman than she already doubted her to be.

"Isn't this day supposed to be about me?" Podrick turned his scowling at his friends.

Maedalyn harshly grabbed him by the jaw, turning his head back forward so she could continue to brush his hair. Podrick's hair was short, black, and coarse. The texture suggested it would eventually curl if he ever allowed it to grow long enough to do so. He had two small swirling cowlicks at the start of his hairline, which made it difficult for Maedalyn to get to lay down. She dipped the brush in a cup of water that rested on the vanity and applied it to Podricks scalp, forcing a bit more pressure than last time. Sure enough his hair finally laid down, finalizing his tidy appearance. He turned his back to the handmaid allowing for Maedalyn to clip the cloak over his shoulder. It was Westeros tradition to share the cloak with your wife, during the ceremony, it symbolized both unity and protection.

"Why am I feeling? so nervous " Podrick's cheeks puffed from the air he blew out.

"As soon as you see your beautiful bride, it'll all go away, trust me" Gordar spoke from experience.

"I just want to make sure this is a good day, for Ilizabeth"

It pleased Brienne to hear the man stressing over his appearances. He did his best to ensure today was perfect, and she appreciated him for it. Most women dreamed of their wedding day being the magical day of their lives. They'd lie awake in bed at night praying that whatever agreement their father made not only came with sworn fealty to each other, but a tall, powerful, dashing young man.

In marrying Podrick, Ilizabeth would gain both of these things, just not in the way her younger self had imagined. But how many people lived lives curated from the mind of an unscored female child. Still, she didn't mind the change in direction. Truthfully she always secretly cared more for the bit of the deal that brought her someone handsome. That's how she saw him, even if others didn't, her view of him was all that mattered.

Meanwhile, Ilizabeth stood behind a tall wooden door in a small spare bedroom, preparing herself for the wedding both physically and emotionally. Accompanied by the Queen and her handmaiden, Ilizabeth held the handle of a round silver plated mirror. She sat both beautifully tall at the vanity, dressed in a wedding gown stitched to perfection as Lena fiddled with her platinum blonde hair strands. She hated the feel of a long sleeved gown. No matter how loosely fitted they came, the islander in her complained of a great discomfort in having her mobility be limited. Still, she tried her best to move as eloquently.

Apart from the agitated expression she wore stemming from the uncomfortable dress, Ilizabeth's face was radiant. Her dress, both simple and white with a beaded silver belt-like section sewn around the waist. Being that the handmaids had never been in the south long enough to learn how to replicate the typical braided updo southern women wore.

Instead she settled for a slicked back braided ponytail. Ilizabeth rose to her feet, now moving to the nearby floor mirror sat in the corner. She held the skirt of her dress, twirling it back and forth with a wide grin. The girl thanked both the Queen and her handmaiden profusely, claiming in a semi joking manner, that without their help she'd be about as pretty as her sister.

Sansa watched Elizabeth fall in love with the reflection of herself in the elegant gown,basking in the excitement all women bore towards weddings. The Queen had only attended two weddings in her life. Forced to be there against her will, she sat as a guest at one Lannister wedding and a bride at the other. It's safe to say that the redhead was overjoyed at the opportunity to willfully attend a wedding she wasn't involved in, and celebrate the love she felt they truly shared.

She found herself looking closely at the details of the gown, jealous of another woman's ability to sew to such perfection. Sansa would have loved to lock herself in a room away from the realm sewing until her fingertips blessed onto the gown, forcing her to spend more in isolation. Between the pregnancy, the unknown whereabouts of the Hawkand, and her duty at Winterfell, she ultimately decided it was too much stress. Although she did manage to set enough time aside to make outfits for both her and Brienne, that way they could present themselves as the united front they were.

Many weeks had passed since the Queen's speech. Not a single northern soul dared to ask about her child's conception, despite having to fight off an urge stronger than a giant. Even now, she'd roam through the castle with a stomach big enough to suggest that she was rapidly nearing the full term, and the castle pretended as if they didn't see it. Those who didn't stop to remind her Grace of how beautiful she was and offer her their congratulations.

As much as she wished it didn't, the way Ilizabeth's gown fell reminded her of the second wedding night. The one that made her wish she never left her first husband, even if he was accused of killing King Jeorffey at the time. She would rather rot alongside him in a prison cell, than ever be forced to relive that night, physically and mentally. She fought against the looming sadness that grew as tall as the waves in Tarth, threatening to take her out in one clean swoop. Instead she tried to focus her thoughts on her future with Brienne. She imagined herself standing in the Godswood all over again, only this time waiting at the end of the aisle was a tall, muscular, blonde haired woman. Someone who saw her and her beauty as adoring infatuation, instead of a pawned piece of property.

"Ilizabeth you look so beautiful, dear" Sansa smiled.

"Thank you, Your Grace." Ilizabeth giggled. "I feel rather lovely, today"

"Well, are you ready to head out to the garden?" Sansa asked.

Ilizabeth nodded, standing up from her place at the vanity. Sansa placed her left arm at the bottom of her stomach before using her right to steady herself as she struggled to rise from the low platform bed. Nowadays the woman could barely see her own feet. Forced to conduct herself in a different manner as the changes to her body happened over night, she'd rock back and forth before gaining enough momentum to stand in the morning. She also needed Lena to help her slip into her boots, being that her large round stomach prevented her from bending down that far.

There were still a handful of weeks ahead before she was expected to pop, but being that was carrying two at once, her stomach grew twice the rate of an average pregnancy. She followed Ilizabeth out her private chambers, desperately clinging to the handrails as she tip topped safely down the stairs of the castle before they arrived at the back end of the castle.

Sansa ensured that the groundskeepers did everything they could to prolong the lively look of the garden as Winter slowly approached. Still the look of the trees were now grim and bleak as they held very few leaves on its branches. They managed to preserve the flowers which provided a much needed splash of color for the unification of two southern beings. Sansa, being a Northern girl herself, was not only used to Winterfell's small use of variation with colors, but preferred things to be dark and drabby. She thought there was something powerful in emerging from a sea of black, greys and whites. But Ilizabeth wasn't from here, and she certainly wasn't in favor of anything black or brown. Sansa hoped that by seeing the flowers she'd be reminded of the island. The Queen was familiar with how suddenly uprooting your life to move somewhere else, especially a place so far from home, could become difficult to manage on your own.

A young man sat beside the edge of the fountain in the middle of the private garden playing the lyre. It was both Ilizabeth and Podricks favorite instrument. He plucked a southern tune, one unfamiliar to most of the knights that were also in attendance at the wedding. Podrick rocked back and forth going from heel to toe as he stood at the end of the aisle, waiting for his woman to appear. He looked out upon the mountains of Wintefell suddenly taking in the fact that he was just a small spec in this huge plot of land.

Most trembled at the feeling of insignificance that realization brought, but that feeling was one Podrick needed desperately right now. He tried to alleviate some of the pressure he was feeling, by telling himself that he was one of many men to get married. Surely if something did go wrong, he wouldn;t be the first man to experience it, nor the last. After Brienne checked to make sure Podrick wasn't going to pass out from forgetting to breathe for long periods of time, Brienne made her over towards Ilizabeth and the Queen.

Being that their father was unaware of her unification to Podrick, Brienne would be the one to give her away. She passed a few small groupings on the knights before spotting the two off to the side. Her eyes widened as she stopped dead in her tracks, now fully captivated by the beauty of both girls.

"Ilizabeth, you look beautiful" Brienne kissed her sister's head lightly.

"Your Grace, Might I add that you're looking quite lovely today, too" Brienne charmed her love before kissing her quickly.

Sansa's coal and stardust colored dress complimented her red hair nicely. Brienne's eyes scanned the shorter girl from crown to heel. The loosely fitted long sleeve gown was paired with a beaded black X across the chest. Her swollen breasts sat nicely in the low collared dress, now twice the size as they were a few months back.The fabric was taken down several inches to account for the huge bump that sat her stomach line. The thin dark fawn hue of her hair was brushed through nicely. A gentle breeze blew by, sending the skirt of her gown out to flow against the wind. Brienne towered over the both, dressed in the same colors and patterns of the Queen. Only instead of wearing traditional womens clothings, the matching material was cut into a tunic and soot colored pants.

"Thank you, my love. Now I'm going to sit, my feet are already beginning to feel sore." Sansa began to waddle away.

As the Queen moved to her place in the ceremony, Brienne took the opportunity to present her sister with a gift. She pulled out a little black box from her pocket and opened it. Ilizabeth's jaw dropped slightly in shock as she stared at the small pin with her family sigil on it. Although it was a small gesture it meant a lot to her. Brienne took it out of the box and placed it gently on the right side of Ily's chest right below the collar bone.

"I love you, little sister" Brienne hugged her sister tightly.

"I love you too," Ilizabeth smiled into the embrace.

Brienne and Ilizabeth moved to the end of the aisle as the small crowd stood facing inwards. The bard now plucked a beautiful tune more familiar to the northerns, setting a perfect romantic aroma for the wedding. The Tarth sisters held onto each other's arms as they walked. Podrick and Ilizabeth finally set their sights on one another. Their souls danced merrily as the reality of spending the rest of their lives together set in. Now standing in front of the Maester and Podrick, the melody of the lyre ceased.

"Who comes here?" He asked with moist lips. "Who comes before the gods?"

"Ilizabeth of House Tarth comes here to be wed. A woman grown and fully blossomed, both true born and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"I" Podrick answered, still sounding somewhat nervous. "Podrick of House Payne, Knight in Winterfell. I claim her. Who gives her?"

"Brienne of House Tarth, who is her sister."

Brienne turned off her heel now facing her sister before asking the final question.

"Will you take this man?"

"I will" Ilizabeth nodded with a subtle grin

Ilizabeth released her grip on Brienne's arm while simultaneously letting go of their titles as Tarth women. The Lord Commander found her place by Sansa's side, as she looked out at the small crowd she noticed that Gareth was here too. He sat next to one of the knights, whispering words into the ear of the man whose face beamed a bright red as his mouth filled with air in fight against the laughter building inside him. The knight covered his mouth with one hand, using the other to slap the boy's shoulder. He pointed at Ilizabeth and Podrick, now redirecting both of their attention to the vow exchange.

Brienne's gaze fell upon the woman sitting directly beside her. Being this close in proximity to the Queen caused a wave of contemptuousness to wash over her. It cleansed her worry like a newborn baby's first bath rid of it's mothers bodily fluid. The garden filled with high spirits as the eyes of the crowd witnessed the marriage. After exchanging brief words, Podrick took off his cloak and slipped it over the shoulders of Ilizabeth right before kissing her in front of everyone. The knights rose to their feet now cheering loudly as Podrick and Ilizabeth joined hands. Their smiles grew from ear to ear as the shouts from the men embraced their happiness.

Chapter Text

"Have we received word back from Bear Island about Lord Samwells' attendance for the wedding?" Sansa questioned Lyanna.

"Not yet, Your Grace" She answered looking through the scrolls.

"And what of my brother, the King?"

"It would seem he may be too preoccupied with restoring the city to be in attendance, Your Grace" Lyanna said.

"My word! How difficult is it to send a raven with a simple yes or no." Sansa huffed. Then she mumbled, "Not like they have any choice in the matter, anyway."

A very pregnant and hormonal Sansa tore her way through the private meeting chamber immediately after rising this morning. Her neatly polished desk was filled with unorganized clutter; a few unraveled scrolls, a pot of tea along with its cup, a map of the northern territories and a pint sized candle. The small tipped over canister that once held the ink the Queen dipped her quill into stained its beautiful lacquering. Being that the wedding would take place in less than fortnight, and her babies would soon follow shortly after that, it was safe to say Sansa was in complete disarray. Her head pulsed vigorously as she continued to tend to her duties with a horrible case of bedhead. She hadn't even noticed that she was still dressed in her nightgown and slippers.

The Hand shifted around in her chair in awkward response to Sansa's shouted. She tried her absolute best not to stare at the Queen's wild fiery hair, she didn't want to offend her. But given the fact that Sansa had been running around in her night clothes practically pulling her hair out for the last hour, stating Lyanna's uncertainty on the Queen's current mental state would be saying the least. Regardless she remained focused and true to her duty as hand of the Queen. Lyanna looked at the multitude of candles hung around the room, getting a sense of how long they'd been working before turning her attention back to Sansa.

"We've received work back from every other Lord and Lady in the North, Your Grace. Everyone will be here in attendance, there's no need to concern yourself with that anymore" Lyanna politely reminded her.

"You're right, you're right" An exasperated Sansa sat back with a hand on her belly.

Curiosity dawned on the Hand like the shade of night. The largely producing belly of her 'denegrate' Queen stuck out like fat highlord, enticing mysterious yet too royal to touch. Of course it wasn't the pregnancy in itself that captured the young girl's attention, but the current romantic engagement she thought she was involved in. Sansa held a sheet of paper close to her face, blocking it from the Hand as struggled to read Lady Flint's awful scripture.

While her unoccupied hand rubbed soothing circles against her stomach. She slouched low in her chair, her legs sprawled out widely underneath the desk. The Mormont girl was truly captivated by the unladylike behaviors of the Queen. She herself wasn't too impressed with the docile, proper expectation of women, but this was truly a different sight. Suddenly Lyanna's chestnut colored eyes locked with the Queens as she peeked over the paper. She knew she'd been caught staring.

"Apologies, Your Grace" Lyanna's posture stiffened

"It's alright, I'm sure you're curious" Sansa placed the paper back on the desk whilst sitting up. She leaned in close before asking,"If I allow you to ask one singular question, will you focus on helping me finalize things?"

"Aye" Lyanna nodded somewhat amusignly

"Well, ask away" Sansa motioned to her.

Her mind froze for a moment. Although she felt as if she had a million questions prior to, right now she couldn't even come up with one. She racked her brain for words, feeling the pressure of being granted one intensify. As stubborn and stringwilled as the Mormonts were bred to be, she couldn't forget that she was talking to the Queen. Her curiosity could easily overstep her boundaries and compromise her relationship with the Queen if she didn't think strategically. Finally she drew a conclusion.

"Was the babe fathered by the Lord Commander?" Lyanna interrupted the silence.

"One might word it in such a manner" She answered.

Lyanna's face went blank. She'd feel less puzzled had she not asked anything at all. A sly grin grew on the corner of Sansa's mouth in realizing that her answer only served to further her confusion. The Queen had somewhat come to terms with facing inquiry about her children's conception for what would presumably be the rest of her life. What she didn't particularly care for, was the snide comments about the genitalia of her betrothed. Not only did she feel like the talk was insulting towards someone of such a high stature, but she saw it as an attempt to dehumanize her. She'd heard of the belittling tales coming from southerners who knew nothing more than the rumors of 'Brienne the Beauty'. Therefore, in an attempt to protect Brienne, Sansa didn't allow for people to know more than necessary. All they needed to know was that she was loved, she figured that was all that should matter anyways

"Satisfied?" Sansa asked snippily.

"My apologies, Your Grace. I meant no offense" Lyanna apologized through slightly gritted teeth.

"Can I ask you something in return?" Sansa's face grew serious. "I'm not angry. I'd just like to hear your thoughts on the matter.

The Hand debated apologizing once more. She feared the conversation was heading in a direction that would end in the agitation of both women.

"Would it matter? If Brienne did or didn't 'father' my child . . . I mean. Does it matter?

By law of Westeros, the Hand could think of many reasons as to why it mattered. She was sure that if she pulled a book from the Maester's chambers and began to read from the list of reasons as to why having trueborn children mattered, they'd be sleeping in their current positions until the sun came up the next day. But Lyanna was no fool. She was aware of moral undertones in Sansa's question. What she truly meant was that if she was loved, and her children were loved, what else was there to undermine?

"I guess not, Your Grace" Lyanna responded simply.

"And why is that?" Sansa continued to push the conversation. She wasn't looking for her Hand to 'yes' her to death simply because she was the Queen. She was looking to see what the girl genuinely believed.

"Honor doesn't stem from simply having a father. There are plenty in Bear Island and all throughout the North that would consider blacksmiths, foot soldiers, servants, even cupbearers to be more father-like than the man who seeded them. " Lyanna answered honestly. "If both you and the Lord Commander are around to teach them how to lead, then who seeded them really doesn't matter"

The Queen didn't expect Lyanna to respond in that manner. Knowing how crass she tended to be, she assumed the girl would brew up something snarky. Sansa sat back in her chair now amusingly curious of Lyanna's wise nature. She was happy to hear that there were people in her small council who supported her by choice before obligation.

"Now, what of the food? Be sure to inform the cooks that I'd like a tray of lemon cakes at my side and the servants, that'd I'd massaging my feet at all times" Sansa commanded.

Lyanna fumbled the quill around in the fresh jar of ink she fetched ink before jotting down the Queens note onto a notepad.

Meanwhile, Podrick and Ilizabeth laid in the bed of their chamber, enjoying the sexually suggestive aroma of the candle lighting. Both the curtains and the wooden boards were shut. It gave the room a night-like appearance in contrast to the early bright morning. Ever since the wedding the two had been screwing like cats in heat. The snowfall started up late that night, making it all the more special.Of course, not before celebrating in the great hall with the other knights of Wintefell. They laughed, sang, and drank to their hearts' fullest desire for many hours.

After feeling nauseous from all the ale he'd ingested, Podrick finally decided to take the lady to bed. As soon as they arrived back in their chambers, the man stripped naked completely and drunkenly crawled into bed. Still in honor of tradition, Ilizabeth was prepared to go through with it. So, she nervously dropped her wedding gown and waltzed back to the bed in only her undergarments before noticing he'd passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow. She chuckled to herself before joining him in bed happily. Then, the next morning when they woke they made love to each other and haven't been able stop since then.

Ilizabeths platinum hair was sprawled across the pillow as her husband hovered over her. A loud moan slipped from her mouth as a wave of ecstasy washed over her. After finally deciding to leave their realm of pleasure, they embraced each other in a romantic hold. The warmth of the fire pit combated the freezing cold that managed to seep through the cracks of the window lining. Mountains of white were soon to come, and the anticipation of its beauty grew heavy on Ilizabeth. Although light amounts of snow remained when she first arrived in Winterfell, it looked nowhere near as heavenly as it did right now. She cuddled into the slightly rugged and hairy chest of her husband while tracing her fingers over his chubby stomach.

"You are awfully good at that '' Ilizabeth grinned

"As are you"

"Isn't Ser Edam going to be angry when he notices you're not out training with the other knights?" Ilizabeth inquired now looking up at him.

"I am a newly wedded man. This is what I should be doing." Podrick gloated.

"Is that so?" Ilizabeth smirked, regaining some energy.

"Aye, it is," Podrick grabbed the girl by the hips.

Ilizabeth climbed back on the man's lap for another round of semi-feral love making. After doing the deed twice more, Podrick was ripped away by a loud pounding at his door. It wasn't Ser Eddam, but if he remained in that room any longer it would be. Then he'd be in real trouble. He climbed out of bed and dressed himself quickly.

"Have you given any more thought to what I've asked?" Podrick asked with his back turned to Ilizabeth.

Ilizabeth didn't respond. She felt troubled by Podricks question. The metallic clanking of Podricks armor rippled through the room as he fumbled to put it on. He grew frustrated in both his wifes silence and his chainmail sleeves.

"Pod, I'm just not sure" She hesitated.

"My love, Gareth is a great boy. I'm not saying we can't have children of our own too. But the boy has no parents, why can't we be that for him?" Podrick sat on the edge of the bed.

Ilizabeth tossed the silk sheets aside, revealing her bare naked body to the cold. Small bumps formed against her winter complexion as scooted to the edge of the bed. She patted it lightly, motioning for him to sit next to her before placing her arm against shoulder. She extended her hand to his cheek, now stroking it gently.

"You have such a kind heart" Ilizabeth admired him.

She looked into the man's brown marbled eyes. She could tell he had truly formed an attachment to the young boy, and so had she. Gareth was one of the funniest kids she had ever met, there was no question as to whether or not she cared for the boy, she just wasn't sure she wanted to be his mother. Caring for a child was a huge responsibility, having only been married for a short time. The expression on Podricks face began to fall as Ilizabeth's silence lasted for an overwhelmingly long time. He pressed his lips together and nodded before rising to his feet. Just as he bent down to grab his weapon belt resting by the door, Ilizabeth stopped him.

"Alright!" Ilizabeth called out to him. "Alright"

The man turned around with the widest smile she'd ever seen. WIth his arms wide, he lunged at the girl tackling her into a hug They bounced against the mattress in a fit of cheers. She laughed at how silly he was before being attacked by the plethora of kisses he left all over her face. Podrick returned to his feet once more, grabbing his helmet before running off with the man who waited impatiently outside their door.

Back in Sansa's office came Maester Horden. The older man grew tired of chasing the Queen around the castle begging for her to take it easy. The hump in his back grew thicker and thicker by the day in putting up with her stubborn persistence. Still he remained a loyal servant of the crown. He was taken aback by how disorganized the room had become in just a few hours. Both the map and a few torn up shreds of paper were tossed all over the room's cobblestone stone flooring. He looked to the Queen furiously as Sansa sat slouched back in her chair with her feet propped up against the lap of Lena.

"That is enough!" Maester Horden shooed the girl away. "You're coming with me, Your Grace"

His chains clinked as he swiftly grabbed the Queen's hand and lifted her out the chair. Sansa left Lyanna Mormont floating all alone in the abyss of paperwork and planning. She shouted instructions at the girl the entire time she was forced out of the room, right up until he shut the door behind them. The Maester escorted the Queen up the stairs and back into her sleeping chambers. Lena followed behind them, getting ready to prepare a snack for the Queen.

"If you wish to keep the babes in there until after the wedding , I suggest you heed my advice and remain in bed, Your Grace" He sternly reminded her.

His words stirred Sansa festering frustration, she wanted so desperately to climb out of bed and head back down to the room so she could ensure the perfection of their special day. But she knew that Maester Horden was right. Keeping the babies in until after the wedding was of paramount importance. Sansa grew bored of sitting cooped up in her chambers all alone. Although Maedalyn and Lena would try their best to keep the Queen entertained with food, games and silly stories, it wasn't enough. The only thing that could possibly make her current living restrictions any better would be the company of the Lord Commander, but she was too busy.

"Don't worry, Maester Horden. We're on top of it" Lena smiled, shutting the door behind the irritable middle aged man.

Sansa let out a loud sigh whilst throwing her head back against her recently fluffed pillow. She then snapped her fingers. Lena rushed to grab the tray of lemon caked from the table and brought them beside the Queen. Sansa grabbed one from the plate harshly, knocking a few of them off their tray as she huffed a piece of it into her mouth.

"This is so incredibly boring" She whined with her mouth full.

"I know, Your Grace. But think of the babies"

"Please stop talking" Sansa interrupted the girls.

Lena furrowed her eyebrows at the attitude of the Queen. Preparing the Queen for both a wedding and childbirth had not been easy at all. Sansa turned into a trailblazing tyrant the bigger the babes in her stomach grew. Lena did her best in reminding herself that the Queen was not her usual self, and carrying a child tended to do that to women, especially the spoiled highborn women

"I'm sorry, that was rude" The Queen apologized.

"It's alright, Your Grace. I know you mean nothing of it" Lena smiled.

"I'm glad, now fetch me a glass of water" Sansa pouted.

After Podrick met up with the knights of Winterfell a few hours later than the others. Ser Edam banished Podrick to the stables until he was scrubbing every horse there. It didn't take long for the rest of the men to adjust to the freezing cold snow, but Podrick being a southern boy experiencing winter in the North for only the second time in his life, was not doing so well. The extra hours spent rustling in the chilling white substance was starting to get to the man. It didn't help that his extra time with the beautiful Ilizabeth this morning caused him to forget to dress in thick undergarments.

A growling roar bellowed from his stomach, spending an extra boost of energy into Podrick. He finished quickly then went to join the handful of knights that still lingered in the dining hall. The cook handed the man of freshly skewered venison to which Podrick was grateful for. He sat down at a table alone, stuffing his mouth full of juicy meat. Suddenly the man heard a faint young voice shouting in the distance. The cheering grew closer and closer until the shaggy haired boy entered the dining hall holding a smile and a dead pigeon.

"Podrick, I shot a pigeon" He cheered.

Podrick looked up at the boy with a smudge of sauce lingering on the side of his mouth. As the boy moved closer to Podrick all he could think was how much he adored the fact that the boy wished to celebrate this with him. Podrick was placed into a father-like role after being tasked with watching over the boy, a role he didn't expect to like. His recent conversation with Ilizabeth poured to the forefront of his mind, distracting him from what the boy was saying.

"It was great Podrick, I was out in the woods looking for rabbits actually. Then I saw it out of the corner of my eye, I drew the arrow, took a deep breath and just like that, I shot me a pigeon" The boy explained proudly.

"Garteth, I need to ask you something" Podrick spoke.

"Yeah, what is it?" Gareth sat up straight noticing the man's demeanor.

"Ilizabeth and I were talking, and we were thinking of taking you in, you know officially. The Queen would be glad to legitimize you as a Payne. We could be like a family." Podrick asked.

The smile faded from Gareth's face slowly. Podricks began to crack slightly at the sight of it. His body repelled from Podrick as he lifted himself from the table. He stumbled backwards in shock before turning to flee the dining hall. Podrick stood up abruptly. His tray clammerted to the ground now smearing the ground with fresh juicy venison as he ran after the sprinting boy. Podrick called his name repeatedly as he watched him exit the castle walls. His hands fell over his head while he distraughtly painted. He kicked up a cloud of snow in a rage of swear words flying from his mouth. He figured when the boy had a chance to calm down and finally returned, he'd apologize for being so forward and withdraw the proposal entirely. He hoped they would be able to forget about it and move on. That way Gareth would still remain in their lives.

Chapter Text

The winds settled mercifully as nightshade grew upon Winterfell. While the sun crept to the side of the world, its warm radiant glow went to. A harsh chill settled into the thinning air, threatening the life of anyone brave enough to sit in it for too long. Even in a setting with such grim appearances, the Old Gods blessed the town with love, filling the hearts of many on this special day. After months of impatient waiting, the Queen's wedding day had finally arrived. Winterfell's commoners danced throughout the narrow condensed street of the village just outside of the East Gate for hours.

Mothers and Fathers allowed their children to play a little longer. The merchants closed their shops and stands early,and  the whores shorted their income as they finished their clients off quicker than usual. All in favor of Her Grace's wedding ceremony. After being handed personal invitations to the largest wedding the North had ever seen, the people scrambled throughout the village in preparation. Even the men put an immense amount of effort towards wearing the most presentable thing they owned in presence of the Queen. By midday, the people were ready to fill white of the Godswood.

Sansa in front of the vanity in her chamber, perched up nervously as she looked into the mirror. She looked at the light pink blush Lena had powdered onto her pale porcelain cheeks, then to her hair which flared wildly as it waited to be tamed. She took a deep analysis of her reflection. The voice in her head grew louder as it struck up a conversation with her. Sansa didn't anticipate being nervous on her wedding day.

The Queen had finally found a love that felt so pure and right, and was more than prepared to exude that before all of Winterfell today, so why couldn't she shake this unsettling feeling? Something about the stillness of the room, the low grumling voices coming from outside the walls, the way all the slight breeze whipped the flames of the candles back and forth suggested that maybe something wasn't quite right.

Lena and Maedalyn watched the Queen from across the room in complete silence. They crossed their hands behind their backs elegantly standing stiller than the Unsullied as they awaited commands from the Queen. Sansa rose from her chair now  turning to the women before speaking.

"I'm ready" A light smile grew on her face.

The handmaids broke from their hold. Lena zipped to the wardrobe, fetching the Queen's gown, as Lena tossed a few more logs into the dying light of the firepit. Sansa drew another deep breath, waiting anxiously in the midst of the room. Her eyes began to trail the room from right to left. The large old bed frame that once belonged to her parents sat pressed up against the wall. It's wood was stained black, had four short posts at each corner, and a headboard that climbed halfway up the tall castle walls. The faint knicks indented along the bottom rail revealed both its wear and age as it sent her mind back to memory of those she missed most. As the mind so conveniently tends to do on special occasions.

Lena gently laid the gown on the bed, preparing it so the Queen would be able to easily slide into it. Her stomach grew as big as it was going to get, signaling to the Maester that she was due any day now. Sansa was about as ready as any first time mother could be. Both women assembled by the Queen, each grasping a side of the dress lifting it over her head for the Queen to slide her arms into. They tugged at the dress making it fall gently down to her feet. Maedalyn moved to Sansa's back side, now beginning to tighten the dress to perfection by its laces. Lena grabbed the over sleeves for the gown. It slipped up her arm, now connected to the shoulders of her gown in two easy knots. After constructing its parts into one final look the women stepped away from the Queen.  Their faces beamed in awe as the Queen spun in a full circle.

The creamy white woolen gown was plastered with hand stitched weirwood tree leaves from the neckline to the bottom hem of the dress. Being that Sansa was put on bed rest two weeks prior to her wedding, it gave her plenty of time to finalize the concepts of the dress she drew up. The idea hit her like lightning, putting her idle fingers to work immediately.

She had both Lena and Maedalyn take her measurements a hundred times over, just to ensure her stomach was through swelling and her dress would fall over it as perfectly as it did today. Though something crafted so tastefully could never compare to such, Sansa worried that the gown laying over her round protruding stomach would resemble the elegance of something stuck under a table cloth. Maedalyn pulled up a chair from beside the window and motioned for Sansa to sit so she could start on her hair.

"The dress looks wonderful on you, Your Grace" Maedalyn complimented her.

"Thank you, Maedalyn" Sansa smiled humbly.

"Have you had a chance to see the Lord Commander at all today, aside from this morning of course" Lena replied brushing the girls hair back.

"I haven't. Sansa paused. "Do you think she's doing alright?"

"What do you mean, Your Grace?" The girl replied.

"It's just, Bri doesn't care for public events or dressing up. I just hope she isn't somewhere stressing over her skirt not sitting right" Sansa chuckled thinking back to prior interactions with the blonde.

Meanwhile, Brienne had been doing exactly what the Queen suspected. She stood tall in the guest house of Winterfell, where Podrick and Ilizabeth stayed. She brushed her hands down vigorously against the skirt of her doublet for the eighth time in a row. As her body twisted and turned in front of the floor length mirror sitting in the corner of the room, Brienne wondered if the color black truly suited her pale complexion. She figured it didn't help that she'd spent so much time under the burning rays of the Tarth sun that her blond hair turned platinum, giving it a subtle snowy hue. Or maybe, being that her legs were longer than most, somehow someone screwed up her measurements and her cloak wouldn't be long enough. Then, instead of looking like someone worthy of marrying a Queen, she'd instead look like a shorted jester.

Podrick did his best to convince his good friend that all her troubles were only curated by a spiteful monster that lived within her head. He tried complimenting her on her hair first, then her clothing, then her posture before ruining their genuineness by rambling on about the femininity of her jaw line. Podrick dismissed his statements, now asking for Brienne to sit so he could read the top of her head. He took a look at her slightly overgrown hair before grabbing a pair of scissors to clean up the ends.

"Have you ever cut hair before?" Brienne inquired.

"Nope" The man responded simply.

"Podrick!" Brienne shouted now turning her head away from him

"Relax, I'm only teasing!" Podrick laughed while resuming his attention on the cut.

Manu thin severed platinum blonde strands fell to the ground piece by piece before Podrcik was through. He took a brush to the Lord Commander's head, slicking it all to the side slightly, in a backwards motion. Brienne held her arm out stiffly as her eyebrows furrowed at the sight of her face so unclose and personal. She grew puzzled in not knowing how to recognize her own beauty. After spending all her life hearing other people boost up themselves by mocking her unique appearances, Brienne learned that the only way to remain resilient was to simply stop looking in the mirror. She figured if she began to forget what she looked like and focused more on who she was, they'd soon forget too.

"Well, how do I look?" Brienne turned to face the man.

"Amazing, Ser" Podrick nodded.

Brienne let out a long sigh before rising to her feet again. As she moved to the door that stood between her and her future as a Stark, she held her breath subconsciously. Her recently memorized vows played in her head looping like the lyrics from Sansa's favorite tune. She sent out a prayer to the Old Gods before stepping into the courtyard where the blinding darkness of nightshade finished snuffing out the town's natural sunlight. Luckily flames of the torches bolted to the walls were burned bright enough to guide them through it. Podrick pulled his fur inwards as he shivered behind the Lord Commander.

As the two walked through the entry to the Godswood, Brienne's heart stopped and dropped to her stomach in sight of the enormous crowd she grew closer to. Twenty long poled torches were staked into the frozen ground, forming a circular enclosure just under the weirwood tree. The flames danced with the breeze as it provided the area with a rustic orange glow that casted shadows in the backgrounds of the woods. Brienne ventured deeper into the woods. Her attention fell to the loud creaking of her slightly worn down boots compacting the snow. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears, growing louder and louder until it finally stopped. Brienne arrived at her designated spot beside the frozen pond where she intended to wait for the ceremony to commence.

Not only was the Godswood currently filled with most of the occupants of Winterfell, but all the Lord's and Ladies of North came too. Which of course  includes a handful of knights from each of the castles for protection. Lord Selwyn and Rilley managed to make it to the north too. The little lord Sibil was left at home in the castle where he belonged. Riley begged for her father not to send word confirming their attendance in an attempt to surprise her sister.

When the two finally arrived with the knights at their side, Brienne and Sansa were elated to see some familiar faces. That was before they realized the hefty amount of guests they hadn't accounted for. Still, it was custom to have the families of both wedding parties witness the unity of their houses before all the Gods. Of course, there was a slight hiccup in regards to the acting Queen's family being that; Bran couldn't leave King's Landing, both Arya and Jon were off in unreachable locations of the world, and every once was dead.

Sansa grew contempt with the fact that she was having yet another wedding with zero family members present. She tried not to let these things phase her anymore. Although it will always leave a bitter taste in her mouth, she needed to swallow the pill and accept that things were different now. Sansa was always going to miss them, but starting today she was getting herself a new family, and that meant the world to her.

Podrick found himself in the front of the condensed woods with House Tarth. Finally having the chance to formally introduce himself as Ilizabeth's husband, he felt more unnerved than Brienne. Ilizabeth wrote word to her father in regards to her marriage to Podrick a few weeks back. That way there would be surprises when they finally met. The two had only gotten a chance to speak briefly but Podrick still seemed pleased with the flow of the conversation.

Lord Selwyn excused himself from his family before making his  way to the back of the aisle where Brienne stood.  What remained of a one voluptuous bright blonde maine now laid white and thin brushed back on the head of Lord Selwyn. The old man huffed as he trudged through the snow, struggling to keep control of his breathing in the cold thin air.

"Seven hells, you're likely to keel over and die in these parts of the land!" He complained, finally reaching her.

Brienne couldn't help but snicker in the presence of the old grumpy man. Despite having severed off a few of his pruney fingers, she hoped they would put their differences aside for today. Brienne no longer wished to harbor past grievances, as today was meant to be a joyous one.

"It'll only be a little longer Father," Brienne replied, looking over her shoulder for the Queen.

Suddenly a stampeding sound rumbled through the forest. Its low grumble shook the snowy powder from the trees, sending it into the ground with the rest of the piled up snow plunged from the sky. One of the knights working the wedding nodded towards the vielle boy before he started to play. He rested the bottom half of the instrument between his chin and shoulder before placing the bow up against the strings, now filling the woods with famous tunes of Westeros.

The low chatter from the crowd faded as they turned their heads in search of the direction the Queen was coming from. Sansa's carriage left a trail in the snow as it was pulled up right beside Lord Selwyn and Brienne by a beautiful white horse. The adoring eyes of the north laid on the decorative black box holding the Queen. While the glow from the moon and stars seemed to intensify, the holy aroma of the Godswood did too. Then the breeze ceased and the forest sat still and silent as the music from the vielle took over.

Lord Selwyn and Brienne locked arms as they turned and faced the aisle. The Lord held his head high and kept his eyes locked forward as they paced their steps to match the rhythm of the music. While Brienne couldn't seem to keep hers in one direction.They bounced from side to side as her nerves grew bigger. Everyone was staring at the blonde, which enhanced the insecurities she wished to free herself from. She reminded herself that with every step she took, the closer she was to having the eyes off of her and onto Sansa. Brienne held her breath, refusing to release it until her father gave her away the very end of the aisle.

She stood on top of a few scarlet leaves sprinkled across the ground underneath the sacred weirwood tree with her hands intertwined, laying on her lap, in front of Maester Horden. Its grimacing face was enhanced by the torch glow. The way it stared intensely back at Brienne sent an unnerving chill down her spine. She darted her away from it now looking at the aging face of Maester Horden. Brienne flashed him a brief smile before settling in her place. As she looked back down the aisle, her hand found itself over her left shoulder. She nervously fiddled with the position of the grey cloak she was prepared to give to the Queen.

Brienne chomped down on her lip as she rose to her toes in search of an unexpected guest. She began to grow impatient waiting for her surprise to the Queen. After weeks of holding secret meetings in the early hours of the morning with the knight Brienne sent to Braavos, they were finally able to find what they were looking for. Any longer now and they were going to miss their queue. Luckily a petite dark figure appeared from behind the thick tree trunk. The crowd mumbled in confusion as their eyes fixated on the girl in the woods. She stepped out into the light, revealing her familiar features to Winterfell just as Sansa's carriage door opened.

The Queen held the skirt of her dress, looking down carefully at the ground as a knight helped her down from the carriage's low suspension. Once she finally looked up and out into the forest she noticed the girl standing in front of her. Sansa's eyes grew wide, her mouth gaped open wide right before replacing it with a huge grin. Her eyes grew heavy as they welded with tears. She opened her arms up wide and pulled her younger sister into a tight hug. Arya's sleek traditional northern style tunic ruffled against her sister's large stomach as she gripped onto her tightly.

"Arya, how- what- when did you get here?" A few tears fell down Sansa's cheek.

"I wouldn't miss this for anything in the world, Sansa" Arya hugged her sister once more. "Now you can cry later. Pull yourself together, it's time to walk."

Arya wiped the tears from underneath her sister's eyes with her thumb. She looked into her sister's eyes motioning for her to take a deep breath. They pulled the cool air into their lungs and released it simultaneously before locking arms. Arya took the first step. She led her sister down the aisle, matching the same pace and the pair before. The eyes of the crowd were glued to the sight of two Stark girls in Winterfell again. A blessing from the Old Gods, they supposed.

They watched silently as their alluring Queen moved past the immense amount of people. Sansa continued to carry the length of her gown while trudging through the thick snow. She looked to her lover through the blur of the falling white specs, growing completely captivated by the dashing appearance of her knight. Her face grew hot and a  sheepish smile spread across it as she looked away.

When they rose again she realized she was standing under the three directly in front of Brienne and Maester Horden. Brienne's delicate masculine features were enhanced by both the lighting and the love Sansa held for her. It was almost as if the Lord Commander herself was beaming with light. Brienne also found herself hypnotized by how beautiful Sansa looked. Both of the women managed to tune out the sound of their surroundings as they were stuck in the exchange of a loving gaze. The Grand Maester cleared his throat in a few dry coughs before beginning to speak.

"Who comes before the Old Gods today?" He asked.

"Sansa of House Stark. Lady of Winterfell. Queen of the North. A noble,fully grown, trueborn woman comes to beg the Old Gods for many blessings. Who claims her?" Arya replied.

"I" Brienne spoke nervously. She cleared her throat, racking her brain for more confidence.

"Ser Brienne of House Tarth, Lady of Tarth, Lord Commander of The Queensguard, I claim her. Who gives her?"

"Arya of House Stark. Daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark, Sister of the Queen." Arya then turned to her sister. "Will you take this woman"

"I'll take this woman," Sansa replied.

Arya bowed gracefully. She moved back from underneath the sacred tree and found a spot with the knights of Winterfell. For a moment, no one moved. No one spoke. They all simply watched  as Brienne and Sansa joined hands proudly before both the Gods and the people of the North.

"We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of these two great houses. One flesh, one heat, one soul, now and forever"

"You may now cloak your bride. Give her your protection in the eyes of people and gods; maiden, warrior, mother, crone, and others" Maester Horden spoke.

Brienne could barely feel her fingertips as she fumbled with the moved circular clasp that sat in the middle of her collarbones. After the button eventually broke free, she removed the cape from around her broad shoulder and swung it around Sansa. She felt the warmth of Sansa breaths brush against her cheek as the act pulled them closer together.

"Let it be known that Brienne of Tarth and Sansa of Winterfell are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder." Maester Horden continued. "In sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words."

Brienne and Sansa rejoined hands nervously as they prepared to simultaneously recite the vows they hoped to remember.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger"

"For I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days,"

The intense flutter in both of their stomachs grew immensely. As they approached the end of the ceremony they envisioned themselves running towards the edge of a cliff. Time moved slowly as they approached the edge, waiting to jump. One final act, and they'd be soaring high together.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love,"

Brienne's firm hand slipped alongside the sleek fabric of the girl's waist. Her fingers dug into the small of her back pulling the Queen in for a solidifying kiss. The crowd burst out in a loud roar as their claps echoed through the forest. Sansa and Brienne pulled apart smiling so hard that the cheeks started to hurt. Hand and hand they turned to wave to the people. They exchanged one final look at each other before walking back up the aisle.

The cheers followed them all the way back to the carriage where they waited for the knight to dismount his horse and open the door for them. Brienne held her arm out to Sansa so she could use it as an aid when entering the carriage. The Lord Commander sent one final wave out to the roaring crowd before joining Sansa. She plopped down against the soft cushing beside the Queen.

"I can't believe we just got married!" Sansa said through a blank stare

"Neither can I" Brienne laughed.

While the newlyweds sat wrapped in a warm embrace as the horse wheeled them to the great hall, the people of Winterfell moved to join them on foot. At least a hundred began to pour into the wide rectangular room. They piled onto the benches of the wooden tables aligned in four rows. Candles and torches were posted all throughout the hall being that it didn't have more than three windows providing light. The servants waited obediently for the Queens to arrive. A series of high pitched notes suddenly grew over the volume of the chatter as three dancers with flutes burst into the room. After everyone had found whatever seats were still available, the remainder stood close together in between the gaps of the tables and the walls.

The youngest Tarth sister sat silently with wide eyes as she watched the volume of drinking northerners pierced her ears. Southerners tended to have a bit more table etiquette and being that this was her first time away from home, she was amused by how much fun they seemed to be having. had Rilley dug her elbow into her sister's side four times, trying to get her to look at the dancers. After failing to get her attention the fifth time, she scoffed and enjoyed the show with her father. Ilizabeth was too consumed with consoling her sulking husband to acknowledge her sister. She rubbed her hand up and down Podricks back, looking at him with great concern.

"I'm sure the boy will come back,my love. He might have just been startled by how rapidly things were moving" Ilizabeth tried to be a voice of reason.

Podrick did his best to put on a smile for Brienne when it came to helping her prepare for the ceremony earlier. Now that that's over, the man began to slip back into the depressed state he had been in for the past week. After Gareth ran off ultimately turning down Podricks request to join their family, Podrick took the time to look for the boy everyday. There was no trace of him anywhere in the woods, which of course started to worry Podrick tremendously. He hoped that his wife was right, that the boy was unharmed and on his way back to the castle to hug it out. Eventually Rilley succeed in grasping the attention of her sister. The brunette locked arms with Ilizabeth, dragging her to the floor of the hall where a few others started to dance. Ilizabeth threw her head back in joyous laughter as they danced clumsily bumping into others.

Suddenly an ear splitting honk rang out from the horn. The music stopped bringing the dancer to a halt. Everyone began to scuffle past each other while returning to their seats as the blast of the horn signaled the arrival of their Queens. Two knights pulled on the handles of the tall door. It creaked open loudly, revealing the Queens of the North that stood behind it. The volume in the room spiked once more. They clapped and cheered profusely for the Queens, showering them with great adoration during this wonderful night as the pair walked to the head of the table at the opposite end of the room.

Brienne helped Sansa up the small flight of stairs that led to the platform where the Queens' table sat. The Lord Commander froze, hesitating to join Sansa as she noticed there was now a place at the table designated for her. She pulled out the chair, waiting for Sansa to sit before sitting down beside her. The crowd settled down once more, turning their attention to the pair at the head of the room as they waited for them to say something.

"Well, let's celebrate!" Brienne shouted, causing the room to roar again.

Brienne and Sansa sat back in laughter, watching as the people of the North savagely shoved each other around in attempts to get wine, ale and food. Two of the servant boys joined them on stage. While one laid out the pristine silver goblets, the other placed down a large plate of various fruits. Just as Sansa opened her mouth to ask for her tray of lemon cakes the boy returned with it and placed it by her side. She smiled, looking down at them like she hadn't eaten in days before slipping one into her mouth.

"Would you like wine, ale or water, Your Grace?" The boy asked.

Neither of them said a word. Sansa looked to her wife, her mouth still filled with soft tangy bread and cream as she noticed they were addressing Brienne. She tapped her wife's hand now collecting her full attention.

"They're asking you, my love" Sansa muffled, still chewing her food.

"Oh, um, ale is fine. Thank You" Brienne replied. She needed more time to grow comfortable with the idea of the North referring to her as Your Grace.

"How does it feel to be a 'Your Grace'?" Sansa asked, now washing the cake down with water.

"Strange" Brienne responded, drinking from her goblet too.

It was amazing how quickly some of the men of Winterfell were able to get piss drunk. They bombarded the floor where the dancers performed, sending some of them straight to the ground in a swift tumble. Brienne herself had just finished knocking back her second cup of ale, now feeling a sudden desire to join the knights on the dance floor. She grew bored of all the Lords and Ladies that came before them, wishing them good fortune in their marriage. She wanted to join her friends and family, but she couldn't shake the guilt she'd feel leaving her wife behind.

The Queen was in no condition to be drinking, yelling, dancing or doing anything that would provoke her children to draw their first breath tonight. Brienne was too busy longing for the joys of the crowd to notice her wife speaking to her. Sansa waved her hand across her face, now grabbing the woman's attention. She moved in closely before speaking that way Brienne could hear her over the resonance of the hall.

"Go enjoy the celebration, my love" Sansa spoke directly into her ear.

"No, no it's alright" Brienne brushed it off.

"One of us deserves to enjoy this rather expensive day. Go." Sansa insisted before kissing Brienne cheek softly.

Brienne smiled excited before taking a few sips from her recently filled goblet. She moved through the crowd that parted naturally the further she moved into it, before joining a few jiving members of the Queensguard. Ser Galvin, Ser Bjorn, Ser Mathew, and Ser Bael all stood in a singular line with their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, shouting the words to the instrumental tune being played by the bards. Their volume grew louder as they noticed Brienne haad finally come to join them. She hesitated before finding a place at the end. Her left arm wrapped around the shoulder of Ser Galvin who kicked his feet out to the beat of the drum. Sansa watched amusingly as Brienne slowly broke free from her shell. She was proud of the woman for finally letting loose.

"I know you're up tight, Lord Commander. But now's the time to sing!" Ser Galvin cheered the woman on.

Brienne's face was hot from both embarrassment and the small consumption of ale. She wasn't used to drinking, which caused the happy hazy film to set over her eyes quicker than most.The man's words stirred her. He was right, there was no better time to let loose completely, than right now. The song came to a close causing the movement in the room to Seattle for a moment before another quickly stirred up. This one was an all time Northern knights favorite, especially to the Iron born whose presence always came with a strong scent. Must and sea salt. The song was so infamous that in the few years Brienne spent in the North, even she grew to know and love the lyrics.

As the beat of the drums rumbled through the castle floor her body began to bob on its own. Once the flutes joined in, the whole room practically rose to their feet. Everyone geared up and began to sing the words loud and proud.

"For once there was a fellow, his hair and teeth were yellow!"

"Set to sail from iron isle, the rugged sea crooked his smile!"

"To the Old Gods he prayed, for them to end his suffering"

"On and on he powered through, that's the way the Northerners do!"

The energy in the room was at an all time high. Even grumpy old Lord Selwyn Tarth found himself enjoying the blissful demeanor of the North. Still he sat at the bench, sipping from his mug as he began to rethink his opinion of his daughter and her new wife. He was an extremely religious man, and never knew for the Gods to bless the union of degenerates. But he was also aware that everything they did, they did for a reason and maybe their alliance would be needed one day. He figured that was something worth considering. Podrick also found himself captivated by the exuberant energy seeing as he spun Ilizabeth in circles until they were on the brink of bringing the pigeon pie they were just served back to the surface. The North truly knew how to have a celebration.

If Sansa didn't have faith in the stability of the Great Halls foundation, she'd think the power of their chants alone would be enough to send the walls crumbling down. Although she was basically confined to this chair for the rest of the night, she bobbed her head up and down whilst stuffing her face with the third lemon cake of the evening. She turned around to look for the servant in request of a bit more water when suddenly she felt a wet liquid on her chair.

The Queen rose to her feet looking downwards in search of the spilled substance but there was nothing there. Her hand moved to the back of the dress, where the material was now soaked. Sansa's pupils dilated. She was fixated on the puddle on the ground. Her eyes desperately searched the room for both Brienne and Maester Horden as she finally caught on to what was happening. They settled in on the tall blonde quickly. Just as she began to move from the stage the doors to the hall burst open. The noise startled those closest to it. But not more than the sight of a bloody frantic knight. His eyes were large and absent. His mouth stammered rapidly as he struggled to make a sound. Row by row the energy in the room came crashing down like a wave on the sea, washing out the joy in the hall in sight of the nearly butchered man.

No one made a sound. Just as a sudden rumble came bellowing from outside the walls of the Great hall, the man collapsed to his knees clutching his stomach where he was stabbed repeatedly. His blood dripped down to the floor, slipping between the cracks of the cobblestone. It stained the grout, leaving a piece of him behind permanently. He mustered up the courage to shout and warn the crowd with his final breath.

"We're under attack!"

Chapter Text

The moment the dead knight's head bounced against the stone, the room fell in complete panic. Sansa clasped to her stomach and back in agony. The contractions set in, sending an awful pain up her spine. The Queen wailings faded into the background of the screams sounding through the hall. She looked out to the crowd again, watching as her world grew slow. A small army of hairless creatures flooded into the room, stabbing any Northern in sight. Their skin was pearl pink, marked with scarifications. Sansa didn't have time to react to the inhuman creatures attacking a few defenseless members of the castle staff. Her heart raced as she hobbled to the end of the table.

The chaos of the room caused her to lose sight of her wife. She stopped at the edge of the stairs frozen in fear. As she turned to look out to the crowd for her wife again, an arrow soared through the sky striking the castle wall just a few feet above her head. Sansa stumbled into the railing as the pounding of her heart began to drown out the sound of slaughter. She clung to the railing taking each step carefully. Another contraction hit the Queen then came another painful drowned out roar. A pair of arms wrapped around her. She screamed again, only this time her adrenaline finally stepped in. She began to swing her arms profusely, striking the man repeatedly.

"Your Grace, it's me. It's me" Maester Horden spoke revealing himself to the Queen. Sansa turned to face the man, looking at him as a blessing sent by the Old Gods.

"Thank goodness you're here, my water broke. I've gone into labor" Sansa exclaimed. He paused for a moment, looking at the Queen with slightly parted lips and a blank stare.

"Alright, let's you out through the back He spoke, his surcoat over the Queen.

Sansa leaned into the man as the black thick wool coat masked her presence. They crouched, sneaking through the back entryway where no one was. Maester Horden opened the door quickly. Sansa stopped, looking of her shoulder to take in the horror one last time

"Did you see, Brienne?" Sansa questioned.

"I'm afraid not, Your Grace" He replied "Come along now"

The man grabbed her arms roughly. He feared she would rush back into the crowd in an attempt to search for the Lord Commander. He understood what it was like to fear for the life of a loved one, especially during times like these, but his main priority was getting the Queen somewhere safe so she can deliver her children. The cold night air hit them drastically as they snuck past the sept. They blended into the darkness as they crept past the creatures outside stealthy. Maester Horden managed to get the girl behind the tall strong walls of the Great Keep. He said a quick prayer for all who remained in the Great Hall before barring the doors.

The hue of Brienne's eyes changed from sapphire to a stormy shale blue as they grew wide in sight of all the chaos. One minute they were dancing and singing, the next there was a great deal of bloodshed. Brienne swayed back and forth, struggling to keep her balance as her fear-stricken guests shoved her in attempts to get away from the creatures. She remained unaware of what was attacking, having not seen anything more than the blur of those rushing past her. She began to push through the crowd in search of the source of chaos when she suddenly stopped. Stagnant in a sea of movement, her heart rate sped up like a horse as her mind honed in the whereabouts of the Queen.

Ser Galvin placed a firm hand on Brienne's shoulder, spinning around to face him. The contact snapped her back into reality. Then, two people back into them harshly. They turned to see the scrawny faces of the twins, holding an extra sword in each of their hands as they rejoiced in finally finding the Lord Commander. The men were dressed in their sleek black protective armors as being a member of the Queensguard meant being prepared to protect the Queen at all times. Ser Bael and Bjorn were assigned to guard the back entry way of the Great Hall that Maester Horden and the Queen escaped through. As some of the knights from all over the North finally caught word of what was going on thanks to Ser Bael and Ser Bjorn, they began to draw their swords.

"Lord Commander, it's the Hawk. He's attacked with a bunch of creatures from beyond the wall." Ser Bael shouted while handing Ser Galvin and Brienne swords.

"Creatures? Like the wight walkers?" Brienne feared the worst.

"No they're not as tough but, I don't know what they can do. I've never seen anything like their kind before!" He responded.

"Did you see the Queen?" Brienne yelled back.

"No" They answered simultaneously.

Brienne stopped for a moment to devise a plan to route everyone to safety and take control of the situation. She fought with her mind trying to keep the negative thought at bay in order to think clearly. Brienne imagined the Queen was safe. That her wife somehow managed to escape and was locked in their chambers guarded by twenty knights. That was the only way she was going to be able to fight through this and make it back to the woman she loves deary.

"Alright, get everyone out of this room, Whatever way you can. If we allow them to overtake us in the hall we'll all die." Brienne commanded. "And keep an eye out for Queen Sansa,"

Brienne looked out to the fleeing crowd straight ahead of her. The rhythmic pounding of her heart mixed beautifully with the sound of screams, a true song of sorrow. She pushed through attempting to get to the door, her eyes glanced back and forth between the ground and crowd ahead of her. All the recently slain corpses piled on top of one another, making it difficult for the Lord Commander to get to where she needed.

As she continued to charge through the crowd, a short stumpy hairless man caught her attention. Brienne locked eyes with the enemy whilst immediately raising her sword. Her skin began to crawl as she honed in on the wicked eyes of the troll-like man. The iris of their eyes were completely white, leaving nothing but a tiny black dot to pierce the souls of whatever they set their sights on. His beady eyes shifted as he rocked back and forth, a foggy fizzling foam dripped from the creature's mouth as it shrieked a chilling sound. It raised its weapon into the air now charging towards Brienne. She swung her sword hard, slicing clean through its neck. Its head flew into the air spewing its blood everywhere, before thudding against the other corpses.

The Lord Commander remained focused, she didn't allow herself to be crippled by the fear of fighting something inhuman, she'd done it before and she survived it. She sliced through ten of the creatures before arriving at the front doors where people were beginning to make it out past the sept

While the enemies continued to pour into the front doors, many managed to escape through the back. People fell out into the cold, struggling to regain their balance through the thick piles of winter snow. Brienne must've cut through fifty enemies before making her way outside. A light weight lifted from her chest as she noticed people fleeing through the multiple entry ways to this area of the castle grounds.

Her head was on a swivel in search of Sansa, enemies, and anyone in need of her help. She circled the area a few times before spotting a familiar long platinum blonde from behind a barrel. Brienne's legs flew towards the girl. Ilizabeth hid with all of her family, including Podrick. She brought them behind a highly stacked pile of hay, blocking their line of sight from whatever was out there.

"You all need to get out of here, now!" Brienne yelled pointing in a clear path for them to run. "Go through the door closest to the east gate"

"What's happening" Podrick exclaimed. Brienne looked at the four frantically. Rilley and Ilizabeths eyes were filled with terror as they cowered into their father.

"The Hawk is here," Brienne told them.

Saying his name must've spoken the man's voice into existence. A deep, thunder-like voice began to speak loudly over all the terrifying sounds of Wintefell.

"Hello Winterfell! It is I, the one true King in the North, Radcliff Bolton."

She watched as her family began to run to safety before stepping out into the open. Her eyes immediately fell on the dark haired man who stood in the midst of the fleeing people. The man stood tall and strong with a dark patch covering his left eye and a thick overgrown beard. Brienne zeroed in on the poorly crafted crown of sticks that sat on top of his short hair. He resembled Roose, a lot more than Ramsay did. Even if he didn't claim the Bolton name without the legitimization from the Queen, his face told it all. He was in fact, Roose Bolton's unknown second son.

Brienne mind went back to when she and Jaime sat across the late Lord in the dreadfort. She wished she truly knew what he was up to when he released her friend back then. That way she could put a knife in chest before he ever had the chance to hurt her Queen. Although his own son saw to his demise, Brienne was determined to send his second one down to the seventh hell alongside him

She ducked down low, attempting to close the distance between her and the man without catching his attention. She managed to move through the sept while hiding behind the people still feeling the area. Brienne closed a great deal of distance before pausing as the man opened his mouth again.

"As you can see, I am a fair and just man being that I've ordered my men to stop killing you!" He spoke arrogantly. "All I want in exchange is your Queen"

Brienne's blood began to broil almost to a point where she would spill over like a pot of onion soup. The longer the man spoke the more he allowed time for the knights of the North to arm themselves, which is exactly what the Northerners were doing. Although the armory was some ways away, with quick feet they'd be back in no time. Brienne panted heavily. She leaned her back against the side of a barrel and stopped to catch her breath.

A bright light of hope casted over as more and more Northern soldiers returned with now holding weapons. She took in another deep breath before crouching down to move through the crowd once more. Brienne scanned the surroundings of the man, noticing that he wasn't guarded by anyone. If she could tackle him off of the cart that he stood in undetected, then she could put an end to his reign of terror for good.

"And just to show how fair I truly am, I've decided to return a fellow young comrade for yours," Radcliff said with an evil grin. "Gareth, you can come out now"

He called for the boy like he was a dog, to which Gareth obeyed his commands. He climbed up on top of the cart with Radcliff holding a bow in his hand. Podricks and Ilizabeths stopped dead in their tracks as their eyes settled in on him. His face turned up in confusion as he locked eyes with the boy. A sense of betrayal grew within him. Ilizabeth could hear her heart begin to crack as if she was walking on ice. Their shock rendered them motionless in the midst of the east wall grounds, out in the open where both Gareth and Radcliff had clear sight on them.

Gareth reached behind his back clasping onto an arrow held in the pack slung across his shoulder. He placed its tip against the edge of the bow and lined it up into the crowd. Podrick's eyes grew as wide as a spotted deer during a hunt in realizing that if they stood their any longer they'd be shot dead. His clammy hand desperately clung to Ilizabeths. He sprung forward, yanking her behind him while he searched for cover. His body naturally began to crouch as Gareth let go of the arrow. It soared through the air, leaving a sustained whistle in its trail. Podrick shut his eyes tightly as he continued to sprint towards the small building in the center. He felt a rough tug against his arm. Its force was almost strong enough to pull straight from its socket. It separated his hand from his wives, causing him to turn around frantically in search of her.

Ilizabeth laid face down in the snow, motionless, with the end of a bloody arrow sticking out her backside. Podrick froze as he blinked a few times. He hoped that would wipe away his overactive imagination. That it would correct his vision and reveal the girl he loved on her feet, reaching her hand out to him so they could continue to run. But it didn't change anything. He stammered backwards slowly with his mouth gaping slightly. His body grew heavy and dark, as he fell to his knees. He wailed into the night sky before clutching onto her desperately. Podrick turned her over, flipping her cold dead eyes up to the stars. The feathered end of the arrow was buried deep in her chest causing the blood to pour out and stain the girls pink dress as it mixed into the snow.

"Ilizabeth, Ilizbabeth get up" Podrick held the already deceased woman close.

A salty stream poured down Podricks tired face. He sobbed loudly, as her blood began to seep into the fabric of his doublet. Rilley let out a scream so loud that it ripped her throat raw. She reached out to her sister's corpse, straining against the pull of her father who grew emotional in the sight of his daughter.

Brienne rose from her cover slowly. Her arms fell to her side swingingly limpley as she went numb in watching her friend mourn her sister. Ilizabeths limbs dangled freely in the air as Podrick mustered up the strength to lift the girl off of the ground.Her chest tightened and so did her grip on the handle of her sword. She breathed out roughly and sporadically, resembling the breath of a wolf as she turned her attention to the men.

Without giving it a second thought, Brienne charged towards the cart. She was already close enough to strike it hard,sending them flying backwards into the snow before the pair even realized what was happening. The cart flipped over, and both boys thudded into the snow. She huffed as she stepped over the supplies indented in the thick snow from the fallen cart. Brienne stood over the younger boy who looked to her in great fear. His lips stammered, struggling to find the words to say. The same as the man they butchered. The one who warned them of the attack.

A scary wicked look grew on her face as she stared down at him. It was almost as if she was being engulfed by a flaming darkness. One born from rage. She screamed as she shoved the sharp shining blade into his stomach, bloodying its recent polish. His body jerked upwards before croaking out a stunted breath. The sound of his guts squelching brought a smile to her face as she twisted it around thoroughly before ripping it upwards and pulling it out just before his throat. She watched life vanish from his eyes. Not feeling a sliver of guilt for killing a child for the first time. Her chest rose and fell rapidly from the adrenaline rushing through her. She remained stuck standing over the corpse. His face reminded her of seeing the arrow snuff the life out of her little sister. She needed the reminder for motivation. Her lifeless body fueled the fire inside her.

Radcliff took this opportunity to roll out from beside the two, he scrambled to his feet quickly before sprinting towards the south gate. The fleeing man snapped Brienne back from her grieving haze. She took off after the man, running faster than she had in her entire life. Determined to make him suffer for all the damages he's done.

The knights of the North had finally gained the upper hand on the attack. Still a decent portion had fallen. Their corpses laid on the floor of the Great Hall and out in the snow where they were repeatedly being stepped on as the remaining knights fought valiantly to slay the last of the creatures. The freefolk women fought, the Karstark men fought, the Bear Island men found, even the Lords and Ladies themselves. One by one the North began to put their enemies into the ground. And while Brienne continued to chase through the dark forest, and the knights of the North fought to protect their Queen, Sansa wailed from the highest room in the Great Keep.

The sweat dripping from her forehead stuck clumps of hair to the side of her face. An itchy tingle grew as she laid on the mattress with her legs spread wide, panting in a rhythmic pattern. The Maester sat at the end of the bed with his hands on the girl's knees. As he looked back down between her legs to check on the status of the babe, he sprung in joy of seeing its head. He called upon Lena who thankfully was already in the Queen's bedroom preparing it for her slumber tonight when the two stumbled in.

Being that all of the knights were still in the courtyards of the sept, they were forced to deliver the children without any protection. Lena blew out all of the candles, leaving the three still lit so they wouldn't be in total darkness. Still it was dark, and Maester Hordens eyes were getting old. He tried not to imagine the creatures finding them in a vulnerable position and killing them all before the children were ever brought into the world. The man took in a few deep breathings before instructing Lena to hold the Queen's hand as she prepared to push.

"Alright, Your Grace. The time has come. Give me a good long push" He said preparing his hands.

Sansa crushed the knuckles of her handmaid and she pushed for as long as she could. The Queen let out a wail that would be loud enough to wake the whole keep if there actually was another person in the structure. Her body fell back against the pillows as she panted profusely. She looked at the sky, shaking her head as she sobbed. The thought of her people dying, her wife dying, and the pain of a child ripping through her vagina was too much for the Queen's overactive hormones to handle. Lena took a cloth and wiped some of the sweat from the Queen's face while repeating encouraging words to the redhead.

"Another push like that and the first one will slide right out, Your Grace" Maester Horden tried to encourage her too

Her body rushed from the mattress again, curling up like a scorpion as she gave it another push. She used all of her energy to lengthen the second one. Although she wasn't supposed to, she held her breath, really rying to give it all she had. She felt pressure slide through her just as she released her breath, gasping for air. Maester Horden held the baby in his arms, whilst quickly wiping some of the bodily fluids from its face. He lifted a pair of scissors from the tray beside him and lined the crevice of the two sheers at the base of the chord with a steady hand. He closed them and quickly tied up the extra skin before turning the baby over to give it a few taps on the butt. A faint cry came from the baby's mouth, causing more tears to fall from her eyes.

"The first one's a girl" Maester Horden held up the baby with a smile. "A healthy baby girl"

She'd spent the entire pregnancy praying to the Old Gods that her babies didn't come out cursed, and now she'd finally receive their answer. She stretched her body out to get a peek of daughter for the first time. From the looks of it the babe was the exact opposite of a curse, but a blessing. The grueling pain of contractions came back to Sansa, wiping away the joy of delivering her first child. Lena was forced to leave the Queen's bedside. She held the baby in her arms, bouncing her gently as she kept her sights on Sansa. Maester Horden began to warn the Queen that although this was a moment to celebrate, she wasn't quite through yet.

"Alright, I'm seeing this one's head now. Give me a good push, Your Grace" Maester Horden spoke excitedly.

Sansa's body crunched up again, pushing from her core for several seconds before growing tired. As her head fell back her mind wandered to the kingdom again.She feared her wife wouldn't make it back, that she'd never get to witness their miracle, that they'd never get to consummate their marriage and live out their rest of their lives together.

A jolt of pain snapped Sansa's attention back to the room. The Maester encouraged her to begin pushing again. The Queen drew in a deep breath before squeezing her core tight Once again the pressure vanished and she flopped back panting. Maester Horden cleaned and cut the second baby just as he did the first. With one swift smack on the butt, came the second baby's wail. Sansa was flushed with happiness, as she watched the Maester wipe the rest of the muck off the baby.

"It's a boy" He smiled before handing the Queen her baby.

Maester Horden slipped her son into the left arm of the Queen. Then Lena placed her daughter down in her right arm. The Queen looked down at the two prink shriveled up faces of her children, struggling to their beautiful faces through her tear blurred vision. She requested that Lena wipe her face so she could see better that both her hands were now occupied. The handmaid wiped her eyes, before wiping more of the sweat from her forehead. Sansa began to chuckle slightly as the sound of their cries elated her. Captivated by their existence, she began to shush them softly.

Meanwhile the chase in the woods began to draw to a close. The Bolton man exhausted all of his energy as he ran out as far into the woods as his legs and lungs would take him. And everytime he looked over his shoulder he saw the lofty stature chasing after him like a starving hound. Immense fear set in at the pounding of her footsteps grew closer. He decided he might have a better chance of living if he hid, so he ducked behind a fallen tree. With darkness on his side, he figured he would use it to mask his presence from the woman until he had a chance to slip away in the morning.

The Bolton cursed under his breath as he began to realize his attack on Winterfell was failing. With every twig snap and cricket creak that echoed in the shadows of the woods the man looked over his shoulder frantically. Brienne huffed through the woods slowly and silently, she held her sword tightly by her side. Her eyes scanned the dark forest quickly as she struggled to see without the light.

Suddenly on her left she heard the crushing of snow, her head snapped in that direction first then her body followed. Her elbows bent and rose, bringing her sword at an eye level as she approached the sound. Just as she turned the corner she swung her sword down heavily, just missing the side of the Bolton man's right shoulder He revealed himself to the Lord Commander as he crawled out into the open woods. He tried to get back up on his feet, but Brienne held her sword to his neck, forcing him back down into the snow.

"Wait, you can't kill me!" He pleaded. The man looked at the woman with such fear, a fear that fueled her anger even more. How could a man be this disgraceful? "I have information you'll want to hear"

She didn't hear a word he said. She couldn't even see him. Although Brienne stared straight down at him, she still didn't see anyone.Even if she wanted to look the man in his face before she killed him, her eyes stared black and cold, looking straight through a man who was already dead and gone. Her arm lunged forward on its own. She forcefully plunged the point of her blade through the man's neck. He gargled and choked on the blood that began to pour out from his mouth. His hands fell over the gash, scrambling to use pressure to stop the bleeding as the Old Gods sucked the life from his body. He let out one last cough before falling limp in the snow. The feeling of his spinal bones sawed against the Valyrian steel as she slid it out slowly.

Still she moved with no thought or intent. The shock sent her soul into another realm, leaving her both autonomously lifeless. She began to pat the man down, finding a thick folded up piece of paper that left a print on his pants from his pocket. She pulled it out and slipped into her own pocket. After coming up with nothing else she rose back to her feet and turned back towards the castle leaving his body for the hungry animals of the forest.

The firepit in the Queen's private chamber crackled lightly. Winterfell's air was a deadly level of cold this time of night, and it was important to keep the babies warm. Sansa looked at the stained sheets between her legs. A part of her felt slightly gross sitting in the mess, but she was too tired to rise long enough for them to change it. Eventually the babes drifted off to sleep and the castle once filled with shrieks of terror now fell silent.

The Queen glanced at the door every time she heard the floorboard creak in fear of the enemy coming in to kill her children. She coddled the twins closer to her as the footsteps in the hall grew closer. A small shadow appeared from the bottom crack of the door as the person stopped directly in front of her room.

The room fell silent only for a second, then followed a knock. Maester Horden grabbed a dagger left in the wardrobe of the room, and held it by his side as he crept towards the door. He took in a deep breath preparing to give his life for the Queen as his hand reached out to the golden door knob. He twisted it quickly whilst holding the knife up to whoever it was. Sansa watched tensely, as she prepared to attempt to flee with the babes.

The tall blonde entered the room with wide frantic eyes searching for her Queen. She rushed to her side, now falling to her knees. A loud sigh of relief came from her mouth as she looked at her wife. She hadn't even noticed her wife holding the two wrinkled babies wrapped in blankets. Her hand shook as she reached out to caress the heads of the babies.

The woman's eyes began to well with tears as her body began to release some of the adrenaline from the attack. Brienne felt like she'd been holding her breath, worrying about the health of the children forever. The sight of two very healthy babies allowed for her to let go. To breathe and enjoy life again. She cupped the back of the wife's head as she pressed a long kiss into her forehead.

"A boy and a girl" Sansa spoke softly. "One big and strong. One beautiful and wise."

Brienne paid close attention as her children Sansa differentiated the children by hair color. Being that their faces were so little, and they were completely covered up. Although there were only a few strands budding from both their heads, against their pale complexion it was obvious. The boy had bright red hair like the Queen, and the girl had blonde hair like Brienne. A flash of baby Ilizabeth struck Brienne's mind forcing tears out of her eyes. Her head dropped in against the lap of the Queen as she sobbed into the sheet. Sansa continued to bounce the twins whilst looking at her lover with great concern.

"What is it?" Sansa asked.

"Ilizabeths gone."

Chapter Text

The emotions of Castle Winterfell were at an all time high. Outside the trees and leaves of the Godswood sat still with contempt, sleeping dormantly, after being fed less than sixty northern souls. A gust of whistling wind bless, sending the leaves of a tree from off their branches in a swirling motion. The bell of the forest turned as it swallowed them whole, taking their loved ones away forever.

Those who made it out alive now cowered behind the cold lifeless walls of theory homes. Trembling in complete darkness as they feared this would be yet another long night. While those who didn't, remained crushed and buried, as the sky continued to sprinkle piles of white dust onto their backs

Podrick roamed the castle grounds, his expression sat blank, as his dark eyes began to disassociate from the moment. There wasn't a single soul still outside. Apart from him and the corpse of his wife. He wandered aimlessly as his autonomy put one foot in front of the other. Ilizabeths arm rocked back and forth, hitting Podricks leg as they bounced up and down slightly. For the first time in Podricks life, his mind went blank.

His internal voice was silenced, his memories vanished. He walked against the cold, as nothing but a hollow gutted shell. There was nothing that could be done for Ilizabeth. The arrow pierced through her heart, killing her immediately on impact. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. He couldn't even bring himself to shut her eyes, leaving them open wide as her head hung upside down.

His movement came to a halt, before turning his head to the three story building beside him. The lack of candle light pouring from the windows suggested that no one was inside the Maesters Turret.

He moved towards the door, finally deciding to save himself from the harsh winter. The door creaked faintly as Podrick twisted the old rusted door handle before opening it. He could barely see anything as he moved deeper into the pitch black darkness. The heels of his boots clacked against the cobblestone, echoing through the silence of the room. He suddenly collided with something. His feet stumbled backwards as he tried to keep him and the girl upright. A long rectangular table sat in the middle of the room. Maester Horden used to examine people when they were sick or injured.

Podrick's numb feeling began to thaw like ice. As the feeling returned to his body, his arms began to shake violently. He decided to give himself a break and gently laid the girl down on top of the cloaked table.

Finally gaining the courage to look at the girl, a sharp pain pierced his chest, as if he was shot too. His eyes became glossy, like a marble and his lips started to quiver as his expression broke. A small light poured through the window at the back wall, shining down on her face. He placed his hand over her eyes and took a deep breath before closing them forever.

A multitude of glowing concoctions bubbled in the vials that sat across the Maesters desk. He stared at them, watching the liquid slosh around and his mind slipped into a trance. Flashback of the horrifying sounds of the events that just occurred came first, then he imagined his wife and friends dying again. The man sat on a solo wooden stool with his back pressed against the cold castle wall. He laid his head back against it, now feeling the chill of the stone against the back of his scalp.

He broke completely, now filling the chamber with the sustained resonance of his cries. His heart ached tremendously. The man closed his eyes after beginning to hyperventilate. Once his breathing settled, a tiredness washed over him. Just before he drifted into a deep slumber he sent out a small prayer to the Old Gods. A prayer asking to ensure that when he woke up, the girl would too.

Brienne had planned to sit up with the Queen all through the night. Adrenaline still coursed through her body anxiously. It didn't help that her children's birth confined her to the room where ensure all of the enemies were dead and the castle was safe. She couldn;t settle her mind from racing in the dark.

The Lord Commander was overwhelmed with the different emotions she carried. In spite of the castle being attacked, and being permanently scarred with the sight of her sister with an arrow through her chest, she still felt happy. Although she lost a sister, she gained a wife, son and daughter. After watching Ilizabeth's body fall limp into the snow, her world crumbled. She imagined her wife somewhere laying dead, face down in the snow somewhere along the castle grounds. And her children were stabbed by a dishonorable creature.

Brienne was in a completely emotional disarray. She could only imagine how her sister, friend and father were taking it. So there she sat solemnly beside the Queen in a spacious gaze  at the ground. Sansa looked over both her wife and children simultaneously. Her eyes filled with sorrow as she watched Brienne disassociate helplessly. Aside from having her hands full, what could she do to bring back her sister? To stop the attack from ever happening, and grant them a second attempt to enjoy their wedding.

"Bri," Sansa called to her love.

Her vacant stare moved from the floor to the tired eyes of the redhead. Sansa paused for a moment, startled by the dark clouded hue of her eyes. A glossy coat sat over them, giving Sansa the illusion that Brienne was not looking at her, but through her. She waited to hear Brienne's voice, for her to finally say something, but nothing ever came out.

"Would you want to hold one of them?" Sansa questioned softly.

She hoped the maternal instinct of a woman would be enough to bring some life back to her eyes. Brienne said nothing. Instead she continued to stare, not blinking once. Sansa called for Lean to come and take her daughter for a moment. She used her free arm to adjust herself against the silky stained sheets, preparing to hand the woman her son. Both Maester Horden and Lena looked at the pair intensely.

"Hold your arms out like this, be sure to support his neck, okay love?" Sansa scanned her loves eyes for any signs that she was still somewhat present.

The small weight of the babe grew lighter as Sansa began to slide the baby into Brienne's grasp. She held onto the head and bum of the baby for several seconds before pulling her arms away slowly. Brienne's blank stare now fell upon the baby she held.He managed to slip his tiny arm out from the blanket  Maester Horden wrapped him. His sightless sapphire blue eyes looked up in his mother's direction before waving his frail microscopic hand waved in the air.

She brought him closer to her face, that way his hand would brush up against her cheek. The faint feel of his baby fingers brought a slight smile to her face. She adored the thin fawn hair strands that sprouted from his pale head. The way he parted his lips to yawn. The way his nostrils flared slightly as he breathed in and out. She fell in love with the sight of him, and that helped bring a piece of her back to the surface.

"What should we call them?" Brienne finally spoke now looking at her wife..

Sansa let out a sigh of relief, chuckling slightly. She motioned for Lena to bring her son back over, she didn't want to be apart from them for another second. The woman's nerves vanished in realizing that a part of Brienne was coming back from the trauma. Her head fell back against the pillow and she set her sights on the tall pointed ceiling of the castle, whilst giving thanks to the Gods.

"I had thought about this whilst chained to this bed a few weeks ago" Sansa began dramatically. "We'll call the boy Rickon, after my youngest brother. And we'll call the girl. . . Ilizabeth, after your sister"

Brienne's eyes fell to the girl that reminded her so much of her sister when she was first born. She felt herself slipping into the abyss she climbed from, and quickly diverted them back to her son. Looking at the girl was harder than she anticipated. Though, how could anyone have anticipated all that happened tonight. A single from her tired red eyes.

"I'd like that" Brienne wiped away the tear with her bloody sleeve.

Three knocks went against the door. Maester Horden groaned as he rose from his chair. The younger Stark sister entered the room with her mouth open, ready to speak. Her eyes fell upon the two newborn babies that sat in the arms of the Queens, keeping whatever she had to say locked away for the moment. Arya slid the dagger in her hand back into her weapon belt. Her leather gloves came off as she tossed them onto the table hurrying to Sansa's bedside.

She felt slightly repulsed by all the mess but nonetheless, excited to meet her niece and nephew. She rested her hand on the back of the chair that Brienne sat in, leaning into her left shoulder whilst looking down at the redheaded babe.

"Seven hells! I've been searching the castle for hours. I thought you were gone" Arya said.

Sansa didn't want to ask, she wanted her mind to remain right here, inside the room with her family. Away from all the blood, betrayal and death that seemed to follow the Queen everywhere she went. But she knew she had a duty to her realm, a duty to protect them, and yet today she failed.

"What happened out there?" Sansa asked, looking at the two women.

Arya let out a deep sigh looking at the Lord Commander who refused to make eye contact with her. She noticed how the woman stared silently rocking the babe back and forth before looking at her sister. Sansa gave her a look, suggesting to Arya that asking about the woman's condition wasn't a good idea.

"Well, the Hawk attacked. He came in with these nasty looking creatures. They were hairless and scared with pink skin. I was by the front door when they first charged in. I killed as many of them as I could, helped the people get out so they could have a fighting chance. Everyone who was still alive eventually poured outside of the front and back ends of the hall and escaped through the south gate." Arya began to explain"

"That bastard called himself the King, and demanded that we hand you over. Then that boy, the one who came from up north spewing lies about the Hawk. He managed to shoot an arrow into the crowd before I saw Brienne knock them to the ground. I'm not quite sure what happened ater that"

"Gareth?" Sansa was shocked.

The chair scraped against the stone flooring loudly as Brienne shot up from the seat. Without taking her attention away from her son, she moved towards the opposite wall where the fireplace was. As she sat down against the black cushioned chair placed within a safe proximity of the fire, her breathing grew heavier. The Stark sisters watched the blonde move across the room angrily before changing another concerned look at each other.

Sansa's mind began to connect all of the dots, Gareth was an informant, a liar, just like Ser Galvin suspected. He must've been in communication with the Bolton man every time he left the castle. She remembered how Podrick had spent weeks teaching the boy to shoot arrows, and the arrow that the boy shot into the crowd must've been the one to kill Brienne's sister. Sansa's pupils dilated as her imagination curated images of the incident.

"What happened to them?" Sansa gulped

"I gutted the bastards." Brienne spoke darkly with her back still turned to them. "I stuck my sword in this stomach, twisted it around, and cut all the way to his throat"

Sansa and Arya listened to the woman's monotone voice, sending chills down both of their spines.

"Then I chased the Bolton bastard through the woods and forced my blade into his throat too"

All movement in the room ceased as their eyes now fell upon Brienne in great fear. Sansa nodded her head towards Arya before mounting a request so Brienne wouldn't hear. She was afraid that her lover was heading back into the dark space she arrived in and if that really were true, she didn't need to be holding the babies. The sound of Arya's boots slowly moving towards Brienne echoed through the quiet room.

"Can I see my nephew?" Arya suggested politely.

Briene turned to Arya, her eyes glossed over just as they were a few moments ago. The brunette slipped her hands underneath the warm body of the baby,and lifted him from her hands gently. She returned to her sister's side,now taking the former seat of the Lord Commander.

"She doesn't look too good," Arya said.

"I know," Sansa replied. Sansa wanted to change the subject, she knew she wasn't going to be able to get Brienne back tonight.

"So, do they have names?" Arya whispered cooing at the small infant.

"You're holding Rickon, and this one's Ilizabeth" Sansa yawned out.

"Rickon and Ily. Cute" Arya replied.

The adrenaline that raced through the Queen began to fizzle out as the sun appeared just above the horizon. A bright burning sign of a new day dawned upon them, shining through the windows of the Great Keep. The Maester took the babies from the sleeping Stark girls and put them down for a nap. Those who remained behind the castle gates of Winterfell eventually went back to their chambers after ensuring all the creatures were killed. They attempted to get some rest before dealing with the aftermath the next day.

When the sun fully revealed itself the morning after the wedding, the people of Winterfell gathered outside to collect the bodies of their loved ones for a proper burning ceremony. The remaining knights worked together to collect the remains of the creature, and loaded them into the wooden carriages attached to the back of the horses. Maester Horden managed to slip out into the courtyard just in time, requesting that a few of the creatures remain in his chambers for studying.

Winterfell had no idea what attacked last night. There were fables of things like the Children of the Forest, wights, giants, wargs, and more. But pink hairless creatures were unheard of. Still, Maester Horden was determined to collect as much information as possible. The knights took the rest out deep into the forest, dumping their bodies onto the grass and setting them a flame.

Sansa sent Ser Galvin with a message to the realm being that she was too exhausted from the long process of labor. He saw the Lords and Ladies off as they loaded into the carriages and wheeled out the front gates of Winterfell with a few less men then they arrived with.

Podrick remained in the Maester's chambers all night, startling the old man as he wandered into his office with the knight carrying the creatures. He froze at the sight of the girls greying skin and bloodied gown. He placed his hand on Podricks shoulder, gently stirring him awake with a sad smile. The Maester sat with Podrick before convincing him to bring the girl outside, where her family wandered around in search of her body.

As Podrick carried the stiffening cold body of the woman out into the yard, he felt his heart sink at the sight of the youngest Tarth sister falling to her knees. Lord Selwyn and Brienne teared up, sharing an embrace they hadn't shared in ages. Podrick's stiff honorable knightly front crumbled as the man began to blubber like a baby. Lord Selwyn told Podrick that he wished to bring his daughter back to Tarth so she can have a proper island send off. He knew Tarth was Ilizabeths true home, and going back there, in even the afterlife, would be important to her.

As the family prepared to leave Wintefell, Podrick took the time to pack some of his belongings. After all she was his wife, and they were meant to be by each other's side until the very end. Brienne held her tears back as she hugged each one of her family members before seeing them off.

The people of Winterfell struggled to recoup from the tragedy of the attack, especially being that their Queen fell silent. She felt guilty for being locked away in her room, but she hoped they would hope out faith for a little longer, just until she grew strong enough to announce the arrival of the babies herself. After finally allowing the handmaids to change the sheets, Sansa now sat comfortably in the bed resting beside her babes.

The twins slept peacefully, granting their mother a sense of peace for the first time in hours. She turned on her side, facing the babies so she could ease some of her nerves and finally get some more rest. Her eyes wandered to a thick folded up piece of paper that had fallen on the floor. She reached out, slipping the paper through her fingertips and rolled to her backside. Sansa unrolled the paper that was folded a dozen times, allowing for her eyes to fully scan the map. She zeroed in on the locations circled in red, as her mind worked to figure out why the shapes drawn onto it looked so familiar.

Sansa jolted upwards, agitating her sore body slightly as she connected the outline into what she remembered to be the world beyond the wall. It was difficult to recognize without the realm mapped out underneath it. Her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped slowly as she mouthed the words labeled underneath the furthest circle on the map.

The Land Of Always Winter

Dragon Eggs

Chapter Text

A scarlet leaf floated its way down onto the page of the young boy's book. He always found himself sitting beneath the sacred weirwood tree, no matter where he set to end up that day. Being here made him feel more connected to the world, to Westeros, and strangely, the past. The winds of the Gods would speak to him and provide him with reassurance whenever doubt of his place here in the North would set in.

When the cold would allow it, the boy would sit out in the snow, just like he did today, for as long as he could. He'd stop reading his illusive stories about dragons and close his eyelids. Lifting his chin up into the air as he embraced both the light of the sun and the specs of snow on his pale porcelain face. His long fiery curls danced with the breeze of the forest. He found his place on the page again, now mumbling the words to one of his favorite tunes.

"For once there was a fellow, his hair and teeth were yellow"

Suddenly a man and a woman appeared. Out of thin air, they were now sitting on the rocks beside the boy underneath the tree. They looked out to the river with their heads somewhat low, as if they'd just received bad news.  He titled his head as he lifted himself from the cold ground, recognizing the red hair both he and his mother had on the woman. From behind she looked like she could have been her, only his mother was inside the Great Hall, the place he was avoiding.

The man's light auburn hair remained unfamiliar. A large sword sat across his lap as he held a dusty cloth in his right hand, polishing it. The boy moved closer to the pair, tiptoeing in awe of them approaching without noticing each other.

"The raven brought more news," The woman spoke. "The king rides for Winterfell with the Queen, and all the rest of them.

The man's expression went grim as his head fell even lower before responding, "If he's coming this far North . . . there's only one thing he's after,"

"You can always say no, Ned," She said, almost begging him to.

The boy took a few steps back, startled to hear the name of a man he knew was dead. Realization began to set in, as he connected the stories from his mother with the appearances of the man and woman before him.

"Grandfather?" The boy called out.

The man snapped his head back, now looking towards the boy. He jumped back, now kicking himself as he stupidly revealed his presence. The eyes of the man scanned the woods back and forth, as if he couldn't see them by standing right in front of him. After spotting nothing, he turned his attention back to the conversation.

Just as the boy took a few steps closer to the pair again, they vanished. Right in front of his eyes, simply gone. He blinked a few times, wondering if his nerves about today had finally driven him insane. Suddenly, his name echoed through the forest. He was sure he was going insane, until it grew close enough for him to recognize. His body tensed up in fear of the woman behind the voice finally finding him.

She finally spotted him, now directing her horse in his direction. Her back length platinum blonde hair bounced as it galloped towards him. He looked nervously out into the woods, recognizing the royal thick black woolen outfit that sat unfinished on the bed of his mothers room just a few days ago. The boy tried to swallow the knot that formed in his throat as the horse finally stood a few feet in front of him. He quickly collected his things and threw his bag over his shoulder, clutching to the strap as his eyes wandered nervously to the face of the woman.

"Rickon, what did your mother tell you about wandering off without telling anyone, especially on a day like today!" Brienne scolded the boy.

"A prince can't even wander the grounds of his own castle," He scoffed.

"Watch your tone, boy"

The blonde shook her head at the redhead before extending her arm out to him. His cold bony hand gripped onto his mothers as his foot slipped into the foot holder. He pulled himself up onto the horse bitterly.

As Brienne turned the horse back towards the stables, the boy's eyes wandered to the crown on her head. It was identical to his other mother's, only the band was a bit more thick, causing the crown to sit slightly taller than Sansas. Usually, it sat on the dresser in the sleeping chamber collecting dust. Brienne hated wearing it, she hated the way it forced her to move her neck awkwardly in fear of it falling off, leaving her stiff by the end of the day.

With every step the horse took, the knots in Rickosn stomach grew tighter. He hated being out in public, forced to play nice with the other boys of Winterfell as if they didn't whisper and joke about him behind his back.

No one was around. The horse passed through the courtyard easily as everyone was piled up in the Great Hall to celebrate the twins' fourteenth name day.

"Mother?" He called out.

"Yes," She replied.

"I saw something,"

"What do you mean you saw something?" She asked curiously.

"I'm unsure. I was reading my book beneath the tree. And this man and woman appeared from nowhere" He responded.

"People go out to the Godswood to pray all the time, Rickon," She said.

"No, mother. They came from nothing. From thin air. And I think . . . they looked- she called him Ned, Mother. Like Grandfather, Eddard Stark"

Brienne halted the horse right in front of the stables. She looked over her shoulder silently as she processed her son's words. Ned Stark was dead, and had been for over twenty years now.

"And the woman?"

"She had red hair, like me and mother." He told her.

"Listen to me, you'll speak nothing of this to your Mother, alright?" Brienne instructed him.

"Yes, Ser"

Rickon dismounted the horse first, then Brienne. Despite being curious about what he saw, he knew not to push it any further. His mother was very serious, and he didn't want to agitate her more than he already had.  She guided the horse inside with the others moving a bit quicker than usual. They were late, and she'd been searching for the boy for some time now. He sulked as he followed behind her.

"Must we have such large celebrations every year?" He groaned.

"It's a joyous day, Rickon. You and your sister are the Prince and Princess. It's customary to celebrate the continuance of a highborn bloodline every year." Brienne answered him.

"I just don't understand why the entire North must be invited. I'd much rather it just be us four" He continued.

Brienne listened to the boy, smirking at the way he sounded like her when her betrothal to the Queen was announced. She hated prancing around in front of the public just as much as her son did once upon a time. But after many years spent speaking with them, you get used to it. Especially if the people felt protected and cared for in the way the North did with Sansa and Brienne.

After Brienne put an end to the evil light that burned within the Bolton men, the kingdom had nothing else to fear. Fourteen very boring years of listening to the elderly townspeople come in to complain about civil disagreements involving bread, or knights fighting over accidentally swapped armor went by.

Brienne and Sansa raised the twins as the Prince and Princess of Winterfell without a singular bump in their path, and each year in tribute to both the fallen soldiers and the birth of the twins they celebrated. A feast located in the Great Hall of the castle filled with music, food, drinks, and various forms of both decent and indecent entertainment.

The rhythmic banging of the drums blared through the walls of the Great Hall, and traveled through the ground of the castle. Rickon looked down at his feet as the tingling sensation from the music could still be felt through his thick leather boots. Brienne noticed the boy was still feeling nervous about today, so she took a minute to have a talk with him.

"It won't be too bad, Rickon. I swear to you." She spoke as she closed the gate where the horse would stay. Her eyes remained on the boy's face as she sought to understand the expression on his face. She chuckled quietly as she thought about how much he looked like his mother when he pressed his lips together as he did now.

"The other lads, they're just no fun to be around" He complained.

"And why's that?"

"I don't know. They're mean. Whenever we're out training with Ser Edam, they're always talking about me behind my back."

Brienne thought back to just a few days ago when she last oversaw one of the boys wielding lessons with the other young future knights of Winterfell. Despite Rickon's hair and facial features resembling more of the Stark in him, in all other areas he was a Tarth. He only had fourteen years of age, and was already the same height as the mother who birthed him. At this age, not only were boys expected to still be somewhat small and frail, they were still shorter than young girls their age.

But not, Rickon, both his fiery hair and ever growing legs caused him to stick out like a small thumb. He was a damn good fighter too, he knew how and when to apply his excessive strength, while still remaining noble enough to move swiftly and elegantly around the battlefield. Brienne couldn't have been more proud to see her son knock Ser Galvins boy flat on his back.

"Rickon, you're the Prince and you're much bigger than them. The other kids are just intimidated by all the potential they'll never have. They say those things to make themselves feel better about it, just ignore them" Brienne explained to him.

"They talk about me being born from two women. They say that you're really a man pretending to be a woman" He confessed, causing Brienne to laugh. His face drew up, as he wondered what she found funny.

"Let them talk," She replied as they continued to walk.

"It would help if someone finally told us the bloody truth!" Rickon said, raising his voice at his mother.

Brienne turned to the boy, shooting him a look that sent his eyes cowering to the floor. His mind began to kick itself again as his mother stopped now standing directly in front of him. The slightly aged face of his mother blended well with the stern expression she had plastered on, it worked wonders when it came to frightening the boy.

"Watch your tone, boy" She scolded him.

"Yes, Ser" He responded respectfully.

Brienne sighed as she thought of the conflict she and the Queen had been having for a few years now. The more name day celebrations they had, the less time they had before the twins aged fifteen years. Sansa and Brienne first started arguing shortly after the twins aged to nine. After the twins' name day celebration, the two slipped into their mothers' room and sat them down gently on the bed finally, asking the question they dreaded for years.

When the questions about how they came about started to roll, Brienne decided that she wanted to keep it a secret from them, whereas Sansa wished to speak the truth. They went back and forth for many days and many nights, before Sansa finally gave it. She grew tired of being at odds with her love and figured if Brienne was that persistent about it, maybe she should just trust her on this.

But children are curious creatures, especially royal pampered ones. Often both young and old commoners grow jealous of the royal children, feeling as if they were spoiled little brats, which in some days they absolutely were. Every year that passed, the twins raised the same question, and every year they received the same answer.

"Rickon, you already know my answer. Your-"

"Your Mother and I will tell you when we feel you're ready. Whatever," He finished her sentence before storming ahead of her.

Brienne called after the boy furiously as they both entered the hall. Luckily the volume of chatter on top of the music prevented them from causing a scene. But Sansa noticed, as she did everything. She collected her grey flower pressed gown near the ends, and rose from her seat at the center of the head table. Sansa glanced back and forth between her son and wife, analyzing the difference in the anger plastered on their faces. She already knew what the two were arguing about, this might have been the third time in the week alone. As her sight settled in on Brienne, deciding to appeal to her first she felt a soft delicate hand grab hers. She stopped in the midst of the crowd, now facing her beautifully dressed daughter.

The Princess wore some platinum blonde hair in a braided bun as the rest waved down her back. The bright alluringly grey tint of her eyes paired well with her pale complexion and her ice blue and silver gown gown. Her eyelashes matched the color of her hair, adding a frosty look to the Northern girl. She was beautiful and all the young lads of Winterfell knew it.

The Lords of Winterfell have been asking for her daughter's hand in marriage on behalf of their sons for years, and for years they've turned down each and every one. They wanted Ilizabeth to have a choice in who she married, just as they did, and right now the girl simply was overwhelmed by the thought of that.

"They're fighting again, mother and Rickon" She spoke softly while temporarily leaving the side of her girl friends.

"I know, I saw it too. Will you talk to your brother for me? Please." Sansa placed a hand on the girl's cheek.

She nodded before they both went in different directions. Sansa swiftly moved through the dancing crowd before spotting her wife. The Lord Commander sat at a table with one another knight sitting on the opposite side. They both held cups of ale up to their mouths as they sulked in their loneliness. Sansa slipped her hands onto the shoulders of Brienne, startling her slightly. She relaxed as she placed her hand over her Queens. Sansa sat down beside Brienne lowering her head just enough to force eye contact between the two.

"I noticed you and Rickon fighting again," Sansa said.. The redhead rested her arm on the shoulder on the Lord Commander whilst spinning a lock of long loosely curled hair around her finger. Brienne sighed before taking another large gulp of ale.

"I just want to keep them safe," Brienne explained.

"I know, my love. And he knows it too . . . he's just curious, most young boys are." Sansa tried to cheer up her spouse.

Suddenly Brienne felt lanky thin arms wrap around her shoulders, She looked down recognizing the hands of the boy she just argued with. Sansa looked out to her daughter in the crowd, mouthing a 'thank you' to the girl. She winked back at the redhead before resuming the conversation she had with her friends. Sansa watched in maternal awe as Bienne hugged the boy back.

"I'm sorry for getting angry, mother," Rickon apologized.

"It's alright, son. Go on, just enjoy your name day" Brienne slapped the boy's hand playfully.

The redhead kissed both of his mothers on the cheek before joining his sister and her friends. The Queens' watched their children interact with their friends' children in awe of where they were now. It seemed like just yesterday Sansa was on her way to King's Landing with her sister and father for the first time. Now here she sat, with two of her own, finally understanding the worry her parents had over her.

Sansa's eyes fell upon Brienne who was now snacking on a slice of pigeon pie. Sansa opened her mouth, gesturing for Brienne to feed her a spoonful. As Brienne slipped the pie into her mouth, they locked eyes. Sansa chewed the food now blushing towards the aroused look her wife gave her. The Lord Commander brushed some of her grown out hair over her shoulder before leaning in closer.

"If we sneak off to our chamber right now, how long do you think we'd have before someone comes looking for us" Brienne asked, dropping her fork onto the plate. Sansa looked out to the people who were too busy enjoying the drinks and music to even notice that the pair was sitting amongst them.

"Enough time for us to fool around once or twice" Sansa replied seductively. And just like that, Brienne grabbed the hand of the Queen slipping out through the back of the halls without grabbing anyones attention.

The twins danced in the center of the room with the other young notherns. They twirled around in circles following the flow of the flute that was leading the current song, whilst holding hands with their dearest friends. Ilizabeth joined hands with her best friend Nera Jordayne, she was born a few moon cycles before the twins, making her the oldest of Ser Corbens children. Her younger sister, Rhaena only had six years. The knight had originally come from Widows Watch, shortly after the Long Night he found a woman here in Winterfell and stayed.

Ilizabeth and Nera were too wrapped up in their own world to notice the animosity that was building beside them. Elden Dickon made his way through the crowd of people by rudely pushing through them. His eyes were fixated on the long red hair that swayed from the scalp of the dancing Stark boy. He bawled up his fights furiously as he pushed the last girl out of his way. Rickon slowly began to stop dancing as he turned to the fat curly haired boy.

"Oi, Rickon. Notice how you're the only boy dancing out here with the girls. And by girls I mean your sister and her ugly friend" He spat aggressively.

"Leave me alone, Elden" Rickon tried to ignore the boy.

Ilizabeth felt the energy within her twin shift, so she turned to look for him. She spotted him and Elden standing a couple of feet away from her before excusing herself from Nera just to make sure everything was okay.

"And men with hair this long tie it back, otherwise they look like girls. Is that what you are? A boy-girl? Like mother, like son. Freak." Elden continued.

Rickon began to panic slightly as more and more eyes fell on him. He took a few steps backwards trying to free up some room to breathe. While Ilizabeth grew furious at the boy's nasty words. She bawled her fists up tightly, her fingertips turned whiter than they already were just before taking a huge pull back and pulverizing her fist into the boy's face.

People knew better than to ever speak better like about the Stark children, one because if town didn't just to defend them first, then Ilizabeth would handle them. Although the girl was a beautiful princess that appeared to be dainty, beneath the surface she was tough as nails, just like both of her mothers. Still their remained a handful out liars who secretly lived in Winterfell hoping that the Old Gods would punish her parents in the afterlife or something, and if those people stepped out of line, they would up exactly where Elden was.

The chubby sausage link hands of Elden jumped to cover his nose and it began to spill blood over the floor. People gasped in witnessing the princess become so violent.  around the castle. The people began to murmur as their heads swiveled around in search of the Queens' but the two were nowhere to be found.

Elden's hand dropped from his face, revealing a scowl that brought his eyebrows so low that combined with his fat cheeks, his eyes were no longer visible. As he took a step closer to the princess, a few of the knights plan to step in. One goes off in search of the Queens to notify them of the incident, and the other two make their way into the crowd. Rickon stepped in front of his sister just in case Elden was actually crazy enough to try something with the princess. Ilizabeth began to tug on her older brother's thin shoulder, but he wouldn't back down.

He grew tired of the boys teasing him about something he himself couldn't even understand. In a rage of fury, Elden lunged himself at the taller boy. The thick red substance that dripped down his nose splattered all of Rickon's face and clothes as he fell to the ground. He straddled over Rickon, wielding his fist in the air. Just before the boy could come down on the prince, the knights finally arrived at the fight.

They each grabbed a boy pulling them away from each other. Rickon's hair was flipped to many sides, now just as knotted and untidy as his royal robe. He growled angrily, as he struggled greatly to free himself from their grasp. Although the boy was as tall as the knights, he wasn't as strong as him so they succeeded in pulling him from the fight. Some of the North watched the dishonorable display be broken up with knights while their mouths gaped, other's watched with their chalices and chants held highly.

Meanwhile, inside the private chambers of the Queen was now musky. What once was cold enough to give the realm goosebumps was now filled with warmth. The stench of love-making ripped through the room as the Queens found themselves tangled in their silk bed sheets. Sansa's head laid at the top of the bed, her red hair was sprawled out like branches on a tree whilst her heels and fingernails dug into the mattress. Her back began to arch as Brienne dug her fingers into Sansa's prickly pale thighs. She let out a loud moan in ecstasy as she watched her wife go down on her . . . again. Just as she was about to be released into an abyss of floaty tingly feels, three knocks sounded from the wooden door.

"Who's there?" Brienne spoke, poking her head up from between the Queen's thighs.

"Ser Weslyy, Your Grace. The children were involved in a fight at the celebration. They're both alright, but i thought you'd want to know"

Brienne rose from her knee whilst using her bare coral undertone arm to wipe the Queen's wetness from the side of her mouth. Sansa watched seductively as she couldn't help but think about how infatuated she was with her wife. The years worked wonders for the Lord Commander, apart from finally allowing her beautiful light wavy hair to grow, all her time as a knight helped chisel her body.

But Sansa's favorite part was watching the woman grow angry, something about looking at her barely visible brows furrow as she lectured the twins for the hundredth time that week really riled the Queen up. In watching Brienne begin to redress herself, the words of the knight finally registered to Sansa. She instantly shot up from the bed tossing the somewhat damp sheets around roughly.

The two fumbled around like newborn cattle in attempts to quickly get their clothes back on. They answered the door with shifty eyes and smiles informing the knight of the promiscuous activity they'd just engaged in. Brienne held out her hand motioning for the redhead to walk in front before following closely behind. They quickly walked down the steps of the balcony, across the campgrounds, and back to the front door of the Great Hall.

The celebration was still going on and seemed to be nowhere near dying out. Sansa placed her hand on the shoulder of the Lord Commander whilst pointing out to their children who sat on the long bench with their backs pressed against a table off to the side. Her eyelids opened widely as she spotted the blood splatters on the clothes of the dissolved boy.

"Seven Hells! What happened?" Sansa kneeled while cupping both of the children's soft cheeks.

Her eyes moved wildly along their bodies and faces whilst desperately checking for any serious injuries. She analyzed the difference in her childrens expression, noticing that Ilizabeth didn't look as angry as her brother despite being the one with bruised knuckles.

Brienne's eyes fell upon the bruising too, sending a flash of heat spreading from the back of neck to her face. She shut her eyes tightly and pinched the skin between her brows, cursing lightly under her breath. Brienne too kneeled, taking the girl's hand delicately into hers.

"Answer her! Your mother's asked you a question boy!" Brienne came down on her son. The thunder riddled tone of his taller mother's voice practically jolted his spine straight as he struck frozen. His heart rate began to speed up while wracking his mind for words.

"Bri, it's alright," Sansa placed a hand on Brienne's left knee. She turned her kind doting gaze back to her son, giving him a sign to relax.

"It wasn't Rickon's fault mother! We were just having a laugh, then Elden picked a fight with him. He said some nasty things . . . then I hit him. Rickon stepped in, he just wanted to be Elden didn't bring me any harm. That's when Elden grabbed him, then they rolled around the floor tussling with each other." Ilizabeth spoke abruptly trying to help her brother.

"The Dickons boy?" Briene asked to which the children nodded.

She rose back to her feet in search of both the boy and his father. The Queen knew that the old batty drunken bastard was still here because a drunk would never miss a chance for free drinks on behalf of the Queen. She spotted his hunched back and bald head through the room before making her way over to him.

Sansa looked at her children with great sympathy in her eyes, especially Rickon. She knew how the boy felt about his other mother being so hard on him. As best she did to navigate it, sometimes Brienne would become unruly and stubborn. Sansa didn't like fighting but still occasionally she would raise her voice in desperate attempts to get Brienne to hear her. To which of course she immediately felt bad and apologized.

"Why must she always yell at me?" He huffed.

"My sweet boy. Your mother cares so deeply for you, both of you. She just wants to keep you safe." Sansa said for the hundredth time.

She knew that wasn't enough to convince Rickon despite her telling him this for years. Sansa gestured for the twins to slide down the bench in opposite directions. She sat down between them and wrapped her arms around their shoulders, pulling close to her before speaking.

"When I was a child, my father would always be harder on one of my brothers than the rest. Hell, he was harder on him then he was all his other children. And my brother hated it. As we grew up you'd see him off playing in the corner alone, sulking. He always thought father was rough with him because he was a bastard . . . you remember how bastards were treated then?" Sansa asked. The children nodded simultaneously recalling other stories from their mothers.

"Well in a way, that's exactly why my father treated him that way. But not because he thought bastards were any less than him, but because he wanted to prepare him for the fact that other people did. It took my brother a long time to understand that, until one day he decided to accept it. He knew bastards were just as capable as true borns and my brother went on to be one of the most infamous men in all of the North. And to think it all started with father being tough on him"

"People are always going to see you how they want, regardless of the truth, regardless of how hard you work to prove you're otherwise, and your mother simply wishes to prepare you for that,"

Long, worn out, coal dust covered boots fell into Sansa's line of sight. Her eyes traveled up the man's thick woolen pants. She recognized the stitching pattern only sewn by those born north of the northern territory Sansa controlled. The tiny white clustered that stuck to his pants confirmed that that was exactly where he came from.

It didn't take long before she arrived at the man's face. Her mouthed gaped in sight of the lengthy black coiled hair. She took note of the slight wrinkles that formed across his face that weren't there the last time she saw him.

"Sounds like porper advice to me," Jon smiled down at his younger sister.

Chapter Text

Sansa surely thought her mind was playing tricks on her. That her eyes and ears were deceiving her, and soon the man in front of her would transform back into whoever he really was. Her thin, dark ginger eyelashes batted over her eyes repeatedly in attempts to rid of the hallucination. Jon still stood in front of them. She let out a loud squeal before throwing her arms around the neck of the man. The chill and slight wetness of his fur coat stained her royal gown slightly, but she didn't care. Jon spun his sister around in a circle while laughing joyously. Ilizabeth and Rickon turned to each other in whispers of who the man might be.

"Jon, I can't believe it's really you." Sansa exclaimed excitedly.

The same look of shock grew on their faces as they connected the name and face.

"I know. You've really matured" Jon leaned back examining his sister. "You look good, little sister"

She hugged the man once more letting out joyous squeals that started to catch the attention of few. Jon looked around the Great Hall filled with people. He missed the celebrations in the Great Hall. The last time he stood in here was after they defeated the wights. Jon's gaze fell upon the large weirwood tree woven into the tapestry hung on the east wall. He hoped he could go out into the Godswood soon, the smell of bark reminded him of childhood.

The twins stood up, staring at their Uncle Jon in awe. Jon's eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the children curiously. Their features were familiar, yet the last time he'd seen his sister, she was secretly fooling around with Brienne. His mind began to flood with endless possibilities.

"Jon, these are my children, Rickon and Ilizabeth. Children, this is your Uncle Jon Stark," Sansa introduced the two.

Jon grinned at the fact that his sister had children. He reached his hand out touching the red curls that resembled before pulling them both into a hug. The blond shaded hair that grew from the beautiful young girl's scalp left him even more puzzled. He pulled back now focusing on her, trying to understand how these children came out.

The Lord Commander returned, still heated and riled up from the argument she just had with Ser Elliam Dickon. Brienne cursed under her breath as she paid no mind to the black haired man that now stood with them.

"I've quite had it with that old bastard. Too drunk to take the bloody conversation seriously. If that fat fuck of a boy bothers you again I'll knock him and his father heads together " Brienne ranted now looking at Jon.

She froze, not exactly knowing how to react. Her children and wife chuckled at the bitter sounding words that flew out of Brienne's mouth. She wrapped her large muscular arms around the smaller man rejoicing in the sight of him.

"It's good to see you, Ser Brienne" Jon smiled and laughed at how quickly her mood changed.

His eyes couldn't help but fall back on the girl now fully piecing together why her looks were so familiar to him. He examined the crown on the blonde's head now questioning exactly how all of this came to be.

"How did- " Jon was immediately cut off by the Lord Commander.

"Let's speak somewhere a bit more private"

As the women exited the halls with Jon, Rickon rolled his eyes in clear annoyance of their secrecy. He wanted so desperately for the day to be over that he stormed out of the dining hall, freeing himself of his sister's grip harshly. Ilizabeth practically pulled her hair out. She hated how similar her mother and brother acted. She too was almost consumed by the wonders of her existence before one of the little lords of the north asked her to dance. The girl played in her hair, fixing it up nicely before rejoining the party, wearing a smile only a princess wore.

Jon followed behind the women as they walked to the private meeting chambers. He examined all the differences of his home, particularly the crown added to his fathers sigil. Once upon a time the sight of it would leave a bitter taste in his mouth. But time went on, and he grew to accept how things went. He also couldn't help but feel proud of his sister. The shiny silver crown sat on Brienne's head gleamed brightly, even in the cold darkness. It piqued Jon's interest almost as much as their children did.

Their thick wool filled boots trudged through the snow before finally entering the chambers. Sansa stopped by the door pulling the flint and charred rag from the tinder box. She flicked it a few times before a single flame grew, she began lighting the ring of candles, then the two on the fireplace, and the two at the table before tossing the flame engulfed rag into the fire pit. Its flames grew slowly, now illuminating the dark cold stoned room.

Brienne sat in the chair next to Jon, allowing for Sansa to sit behind the desk. His eyes wandered over to Brienne once more, now captivated by how different long hair made her look, she was a lot more lady-like, which surprised him. Jon was quickly pulled back into the world of curiosity as the image of Brienne reminded him of the niece he didn't think he'd ever have. The temptation to inquire about everything lumped in his throat, pounding against the walls begging to ask.

"Well, I'm sure you have many questions" She sighed, opening the floor for the man to speak. Jon froze, not knowing what to ask first.

"After you left, Sansa became gravely ill. We had to travel beyond the remains of the wall to acquire the medicine needed to save her. After it failed a witch used our blood for magic to impregnate the queen. Many months later, the babies were born the same night we were wed" Brienne said, sounding annoyed.

"You'll have to excuse my wife. She doesn't care for discussing the creation of the twins" Sansa explained to Jon.

Had Jon not seen things like dragons, wargs, and resurrected dead men, he'd be shocked. Given his time with the freefolk, he learned that truly anything was possible in the land of Westeros. The man nodded his head now understanding.

Still the thought of two women being married and ruling a realm in Westeros together warped his head. He wondered how his sister was able to convince them that their love was plausible to the Gods. He assumed that part of freefolk tradition would never seep down into the land of high borns.

Whatever she did, Jon figured it must've been tremendously difficult getting here, and he was more proud of her for succeeding in making Winterfell a place for all more than anything.

"And the blood?" Jon asked, thinking Rickon's bloody scoffed up wardrobe.

"Ilizabeth hit a boy in the face, somehow Rickon was involved" Sansa brushed the altercation off. The three shared a laugh remembering how they used to argue and fight a lot as children too.

"So, what finally brings my dear brother back home after all this time?" Sansa grinned.

"Well, I'm looking for someone," Jon replied simply.

"After leaving Winterfell, I lived in the Frostfangs for many years. The dead, they destroyed most life up there. The soils no good, more than half the animals are either sick or dead, and rebuilding with underfed men . . . you could imagine what that was like. We've faced many hard years and fought to stay in our home, but we're being pushed further and further West for resources." Jon said.

Sansa thought back to a couple of years ago, where there was an issue with the soil and all the plants had to be uprooted. They were forced to rely on Castle Cerwyn to feed them for the next moon cycle. The people looked so pitiful as they dragged their feet around the castle grounds, their stomachs growling like a wolf. She recalled all the stress and guilt brought upon her as she watched her people suffer.

"Problem is, what's West of us is uncharted territory, A Land of Always Winter." Jon continued.

Brienne gripped the arm of the chair tightly, turning her knuckles a yellowish-white. She hated hearing about that place, almost as much as she hated Stannis Baratheon. Although it was just the name of a place to her, it loomed over her like a dark cloud, threatening to rain down on her everyday her children grew closer to fifteen.

"I took a few men out there. We barely made out alive. They've made it very clear they don't want us there by slaughtering my men until we're forced to retreat, twice. After the last one, I was visited by a woman in black,  she mentioned something about dragons and told me to go far south and look for the key to the Land of Always Winter."

Sansa's heart began to race, her face grew hot, and her stomach knotted tightly. The woman in black was all too familiar, though Sansa had never actually seen her. Jon came looking for one of her children and Sansa was conflicted by it all.

"What else did she say?"

"That the key is both beautiful and wise. I'm honestly not sure what any of it means," Jon continued.

The man was too busy wracking his brain for the answer to the riddle to notice how quickly the energy in the room changed. His eyes wandered to the blank stare on his sister's face. Then he looked at Brienne who had worn the same expression as the Queen. He readjusting his position in the chair as the silence grew louder and louder.

"For God's sake, will someone tell me what's going on!" Jon exclaimed, growing anxious of the animosity in the room.

Sansa began to speak of the agreement made between Brienne and the woman in black at Storrold's Point that night. She told him of how when the children aged fifteen years, the woman expected them to find her because one of the children was the key to the Land of Always Winter. Only now, they were aware of which child that was.

Brienne became unsettled in her chair. She felt guilty that she secretly prayed it would be Rickon. He was her son, a big strong boy who knew how to wield a sword and take a hit. But her daughter didn't have any interest in fighting, only dressing up and gossiping with her friends.

She loved her children dearly, but she had a sensitive spot for her daughter. Not just because she remembered how unruly boys could be and she wanted to keep her safe from that, but because of the uncanny resemblance to her late sister.

"Ilizabeth" Jon put the pieces together on his own. "What makes her the key?"

"I don't know. She's just a girl. A very regular happy beautiful little girl!" Sansa panicked. "And I'm expected her to send her into the North alone within a year's time!"

"She's not going," Brienne said blankly.

"Hold on! The Land of Always Winter doesn't just hold dragons, it holds all kinds of new life, many valuable plants, animals, herbs, all the things we'd need to ensure the continuance of the freefolk, the First Men!" Jon argued passionately.

"You just said that you barely made it out there alive, that most of your men were slaughtered!" Sansa shouted back. "She's just a girl!" Sansa said again

Her chest started to rise and fall rapidly. She grew hysterical at the thought of something awful happening to her daughter.

"But I also wasn't named the key, Sansa!" He continued. "If the woman thinks Ilizabeth is the key, maybe there's something special about her"

"I've already said she wasn't going" Brienne repeated herself.

"It isn't your decision!" Jon shouted.

His voice blared through the rooms, ripped through the castle grounds, and pierced the ears of the horses. Then the room fell silent. Brienne froze, honing in on the intensifying pounding of her heartbeat. Sansa's eyes moved back and forth as she watched her wife rise from her seat slowly, now beginning to fume from her ears and nostrils.

Jon immediately felt guilty for implying that because Brienne didn't birth them the woman didn't have a say. Of course Jon meant that the girl was blooming into a young woman, therefore she should be the one deciding, but Brienne's own insecurity completely missed that. Jon rose to his feet too, feeling his own heart rate at the heels of his feet.

Brienne lunged forward, grabbing the man roughing by the collar of his leather tunic. She forcefully pushed him back against the bookshelf, causing many of them to clammer to the ground. Sansa's chair scraped the wood as she jumped to intervene.

"Say it again," The woman growled. "I dare you"

"It's alright" Jon breathed slowly with his hands in the air.

Brienne let go of the man before backing up with her face still twisted like the root of the weirwood tree. Her hair and cloak both lingered in the air as she spun towards the door yanking on it harshly. As the door flew open, in came a stumbling red haired boy. He fell flat on his face sending a loud thud through the room.

Rickon quickly rose to his feet, brushing off the dirt from his clothing as he nervously looked at his parents. Brienne looked down at the boy who served to do nothing but add to her anger, before slipping beside him and storming out of the room.

Sansa pressed her thumbs to her brows, massaging the stress her son caused away gently. They'd caught him eavesdropping before, and she hoped that the stern talking to he received from his other mother would have been enough to set him straight, but clearly not. He entered the room slowly whilst looking down at his twiddling fingers.

"How much of that did you hear?" Sansa asked him. The boy didn't respond to which she no longer had the patience for. "Answer me!"

"All of it" He replied nervously "I heard every word"

She shut her eyes whilst letting out a tired sigh as she rested her forehead against a balled up fist. Both her wife and son had caused enough problems to turn Sansa's hair grey with a blink of an eye. She hated losing her patience, but with the way they both acted so recklessly sometimes, it began to wear out.

"Must you always anger your mother?" She questioned him

"Everything angers Mother" He replied snippily. Sansa raised a brow at the boy changing his posture and attitude within seconds.

"So eavesdropping on our conversation is what you came up with. That's supposed to keep her settled!" Sansa spoke firmly.

"No, Mother." His eyes fell to his lap.

Jon tried his best to hide his grin from both of the redheads. He couldn't help but reminisce back to when his brothers would be scolded by their father. It made him laugh to see just how much stress sons caused their mothers.

"Is it true? We're really both you and mothers children?" Rickon couldn't help but ask. He had wondered all his life if Brienne was really his mother. Somewhere in the pits of his stomach swam the looming monster of a nasty rumor suggesting that both him and his sister were products of infidelity.

"Of course, that's what we've always told you" Sansa replied, looking at her son with a very confused expression

"I know, I just . .  . it never made sense so I'd just assumed" He paused before going any further.

"You may have my looks, and my hair. But in every other way you are just like her. Just as tall, stubborn, and persistent" Sansa reminded the boy. "Now would you please . . . run along"

The boy rose to his feet with a slight grin on his face. Although he and his mother were always at odds, it felt nice finally to know that he was hers too. He had the mind of a child, and that caused him to come up with all sorts of reasons as to why they didn't get along.

Some of those reasons pointed within, which really tore the boy up. He raced through the balcony of the castle before heading down the steps. Rickon wanted to find his mother and apologize for all of the things he'd said and done.

As Rickon searched for Brienne, Ilizabeth watched her from across the sparring quarters. She moved closer slowly, not wanting to startle the raging woman. Ily admired the way her mother wielded a weapon. Being that her mother was one of the only female knights in the castle, she knew she was something to be proud of.

Still seeing her mother so angry bothered the girl. She couldn't understand why everything was so grave to the fellow blonde, but she learned not to question it. Ilizabeth sat on the barrels still not announcing her presence, as the grunts of her Mother combined with the thuds against the dummy.

"What's wrong?" Ilizabeth finally spoke.

Brienne jumped back. She turned to face her daughter who snickered at her fear. The moment her eyes fell upon the girl she was taken back to every word Jon spoke. Her grip on the sword loosened causing the blade fall and disappear into the thick snow. She didn't want Ily to see her lashing out like this and she really didn't feel like explaining it either.

"Nothing," Brienne sighed.

"Well that's not true. Otherwise you wouldn't be out here stabbing that thing like that." She pointed to the dummy. "Was it something Uncle Jon said?"

"How'd you know?" Brienne looked at her daughter in surprise.

Brienne heaved through the snow, now sitting next to her daughter on the barrels. She reached behind her to grab the end of the cloak, and wrapped it around the smaller girl's shoulder. Ily now rested her head against the arm of her mother. They sat quietly for a moment, taking in the beauty of tiny silver shining stars in the night sky.

"If Uncle Jon doesn't know how we came about. I imagine he must've accidentally said something to upset you. You always get like this about us" Ilizabeth spoke as if the answer was simple.

Brienne laughed in slight shock of how well her daughter knew her. She began to feel slightly guilty over whatever past incidents that brought  her daughter to this conclusion. Her mind stirred Ilizabeths words carefully, she knew Jon didn't mean it in the way she took it.

The Lord Commander couldn't understand why she always felt someone was challenging her parental authority over the children. Maybe because more than half the kingdom didn't believe they were hers. She sighed in realizing that all the time she had spent lashing out on her family was really in compensation of her own insecurity.

"I know why you do this," Ilizabeth continued.

"Do what?"

"Get all angry and overprotective. You hate that people doubt that you're our real mother. Especially when it comes to Rickon. You get really angry with him because you can sense that he has that same doubt."

Brienne couldn't look at her daughter anymore. Just hearing those words brought an uncontrollable rage over her. Mostly because what hurt the most about it, was that it was true.

She hated that in the back of everyone's mind, they saw her as a woman playing pretend father. It reminded her of her childhood, when people laughed about her wanting to be a knight. Brienne was exhausted. Tired of people doubting her, especially after all she's done for the North, for all of Westeros. Brienne tried to do what she did when they doubted her aspirations, but it was a much more difficult fight off an enemy that resembled you.

"I have never once doubted you or Mother. But Rickon is not me nor I him." Ilizabeth turned to face the bigger woman before continuing. "The secret of our conception can always remain as one to me, if that's what you truly feel is best, I can accept that. But if you truly want to put an end to the fighting, you'll have to tell Rickon the full truth."

Ilizabeth must've spoken her brother into existence seeing as he came stumbling into the sparring corridors. The boy startled both his mother and sister, causing them to jolt upwards. He held a torch in his hand whilst the fire lit his face up just enough to reveal his huge grin to the two women. He then placed it onto the pole meant to turn hand held torches into lamps before lunging into his mothers arm. Rickon tried his best not to cry, but the physical contact between them sent a few tears streaming down his face.

"I'm sorry, Mother" He wailed. "I'm so sorry"

Brienne held the boy tight against her body as she stood up. She knew that the boy had some time to reflect on his actions ever since learning the truth. The Queen felt almost all of the past years of tension between the two finally fade away. If her son no longer questioned her, maybe she could regain the confidence to ignore what other people thought. Or maybe she'd learn to accept that her position as their mother was as true as ever, and that wasn't something that needed to be explained to anyone.

"It's alright" She replied. The boy pulled away from his mother allowing for her to wipe some of the tears from his face. He felt insecure about crying, especially for a boy his age. But Brienne always supported his tears, and never failed in being there to wipe them away whenever they did fall.

"It's not alright. I-I doubted you. And I was cruel and defiant" He spoke of the past two or three years.

"No matter what. You'll always be my boy and I'll always love you, because of it"

Chapter Text

Although the Stark family ate dinner together every night, every six days they'd gather in a more private dining setting. The cooks would spend the entire week preparing whatever the Queens' requested for the evening, and the servants would wait on them hand and foot. This evening's supper was no different, only another member of the Stark family would be joining them.

Jon had only been in Winterfell for a day before the older members of the town recognized him. Eventually the talk of his return had spread as rapidly as the poison of a snake venom. He was sure to greet his former fighting companions and those who backed him in being King in the North for a short lived period of time.

Although this was his home, his upbringing caused his relationship with the people to be a strange one, but Jon didn't care these weren't his people anymore, his people lied beyond the North. The time he spent with the freefolk treated him much better than the years he spent here, even in starvation and exhaustion.

The praise he received in returning back home brought Jon back to the horrors of his final moments south of the wall. Of course he was more than grateful to be a part of the reason why everyone stood where they are today, but he wanted to move past that part of his life. Especially being that a new journey didn't lie too far ahead.

Jon finally managed to pry himself away from the claws of northern praise and join the rest of his family for supper. The gold rusted door knob all the way to the left before pulling it towards him. All eyes fell upon him as entered the room, shutting the door behind him. A quick head count left that man at three, not including him. He wondered where Ilizabeth was, seeing as she was the more obedient twin, he was surprised by her lateness.

The crackling of burning wood not only filled the silence in the room, but provided them with warm backlight on yet another cold dark Winter evening. It wasn't too large, some small and cozy enough for the royal family. Jon admired the square tapestry plastered onto this wall. It was a family portrait. Brienne, Sansa, Rickon, and Ilizabeth, stood tall and expressionless, radiating a very intimidating energy. Given the size of the kids in the photo, it couldn't have been more than two years old. The detailing was marvelous. It perfectly captures the right hues and features needed to make it truly look like them.

He peeled his eyes from the image and moved to the table now joining the family by sitting down in the chair between Rickon and the empty one. Brienne gave Jon an intensely long blank stare, before rolling her eyes and looking elsewhere. Tension tightened in the room, leaving very little room for air to breathe. The two hadn't had a chance to talk since their last encounter.

Brienne's pride prevented her from apologizing for tossing him into the bookshelves, and Jon's pride prevented him from apologizing to a woman that threw him around. Still, they both wore heated faces of embarrassment at their behavior and didn't know how to go about letting it go. So here they sat, all four of them, in complete and utter silence.

"Where's your sister?" Brienne grew tired of waiting.

"I don't know," Rickon shrugged.

He turned his attention to his Uncle Jon. Rickon felt close to the man simply because they had similar appearances. Both Northern men, dressed in thick coating, with pale complexions and a set of the infamous Stark curls.

Jon's exhaustion from life's battles settled in on his face, his skin was slightly looser than before, and his scars had practically blended in with his cheeks. The way the man always sat so still and silent both intrigued and scared Rickon.

"So Uncle Jon, what's it like up North?"

"Well, it's a lot colder than it is here. Which I didn't even think was possible at first. The people there don't wear fancy clothes like these" Jon laughed tugging at the boy's tunic. "There aren't any Queens or Kings either"

"I know all of that already" Rickon was unsatisfied with the response he gave him.

"Well what'd you want me to say?" Jon replied.

"I don't know. " Rickon shrugged. "What are the free folk like?"

The door to the chamber flew open abruptly. Ilizabeth entered, knocking everyone in their chairs back a few inches. Her pale complex was now redder than a cheery. She bent over slightly, heaving in deep breaths as she used the wall for support.

They all starred, with their eyes wide and necks turned like owls. Once the servants saw that everyone had finally arrived, they immediately went to work. One of the young boys slapped five cups onto the table filling them all with either wine or ale, except for the children of course. This evening the Starks were feasting over creamy fish stew. Its white thick soupy texture was sort of grainy, and the freshly caught fish slid down your throat like an oyster. A proper meal made for highborns.

"Where were you?" Brienne questioned her daughter. The girl quickly wracked her brain for a plausible lie before responding.

"With Nera" She spoke simply.

She couldn't tell her Mother where she really was, at least not this one. Her silver eyes went dark as they connected with her brother's sapphire ones instantly. She shot him a look that would ensure his silence, no matter how she had to obtain that. His gaze immediately darted back down to his steaming bowl of stew.

"So children, tell me about yourselves. What do you do for fun?" Jon smiled at the twins.

"Well I like to sit out in the Godswood with the bard and learn to play, I like to read too." Rickon jumped first to speak. "When I'm not training with Ser Edam, of course," He added grumpily.

"What's the matter, don't like sword fighting?" Jon drank from his chalice.

"Not really"

"What? But you move like you were born to hold a weapon. I watch him from the balcony all the time. He's the toughest off at the little junior knights" Brienne gloated about her son.

"Just because I'm good at it doesn't mean I like it" Rickon mumbled under his breath.

Sansa let out a deep sigh as her wife and son began to argue. Her hand wrapped underneath the cup part of the glass before lifting it to her mouth to take a few big gulps. She finished off the glass before raising it in the air slightly for the servant boy to refill.

"How come you've never told me that?" Brienne questioned while slipping a spoonful into her mouth.

"How could I? My mother's the Lord Commander of the Queensguard. I know how disappointed you would be If I never learned to fight" He looked to his mother across the table.

Brienne fell silent. Puzzled by her son's words, she couldn't find the right words to say. A part of her wanted to tell him that it didn't matter what he did with his life, as long as he was happy. Because he was her son, and he deserved that.

But she wasn't sure if that would be the truth. A man without proper knowledge of wielding a sword is weak and a disgrace to the North. Fighting was in their blood, and almost all knew how to wield a weapon of some sort. She looked back down at her now empty bowl before turning to the servant to request more.

"Well I might be a knight" Ilizabeth spoke, now directing the attention towards her.

"Really?" They all responded simultaneously.

"What's so shocking about that?" Ily asked with a hint of offense in her voice.

"You're just so . . . girly," Rickon teased.

"And you aren't?" She snipped at her brother.

Elizabeth practically slapped his words back into his mouth, silencing him quickly. He grimaced at his sister from the corner of his eye, mumbling swears under his breath. Rickon hated when people described him as that. But hearing his own sister begging to mock him was simply enraging.

"Shut your mouth, Ilizabeth" He responded.

"You're not in command of me!"

"None of that while we're at the table" Sansa warned the two. "Ily, what's gotten you interested in swordfighting?"

"Well I don't know, it looks fun. I figured Rickon can do it, so can I " She snarked.

Rickon was practically foaming at the mouth now. He could hear his blood bubbling like an infected cut oozing out puss. The boy clenches his fist and teeth so tightly he might actually break a few bones.

"If you don't quit it, I'll tell mother all your secrets!" Rickon grew tired of the girl.

"What secrets?" Brienne and Sansa said at once.

"I can't believe you!" Ilizabeth stood up abruptly from the table.

Rickon bit his tongue till it practically bled, allowing his sister to have the final word. Brienne commanded for her daughter to sit back down before sighing further into her seat. The twins ate their stew bitter and quiet as their mother forced them to finish at the table.

Being that Jon and Brienne also weren't on good terms, that only left for Sansa and Jon to catch up. They engaged in subtle conversation, feeling somewhat awkward by the surrounding tension and silence. Jon glanced at Brienne for the eighth time this evening. Each time he looked back the urge to apologize grew more and more.

"Lord Commander, I didn't mean any offense before, I simply-" Jon began to apologize as the alcohol brought out his friendlier side. Brienne cut the man off, not wanting her daughter to hear anymore.

"Not here, Jon" Brienne spoke coldly whilst sipping her ale.

Jon squinted at the woman bitterly. He began to feel a hatred fester inside his alcohol riddled blood. He hated the way she spoke to him, the way she used her size and position to belittle him, or at that's how the ale made it seem.

"I'm trying to apologize" He huffed.

"I understand, just not here" She repeated simply.

"You've become quite a mean old bastard, haven't ya?" He antagonized the woman

With their heads still buried in their bowl of creamy fish, the twins froze anxiously awaiting a response from their mother. They feared if they looked up, they'd lose their sight as punishment.

"Jon!" Snsa spoke.

"What?"

Suddenly a chuckle slipped from Brienne's lips, then she began to laugh, then she grew hysterical. She held her hand over her stomach clutching it as it as her muscles ached from laughter. Everyone looked to Brienne curiously, except Jon, he grew even angrier.

"No I'm serious," Jon continued "First, after you mistake my words for ill intent, you grab me. Then you bark orders at your children just- just cause you're scared!"

Sansa refused to watch anymore of the bickering between her family. She threw her spoon down into the bowl, causing it to crack slightly around the rim before also throwing down her napkin. Sansa's chair scraped the ground hard and loud as she rose from her feet and stormed out of the room slamming the door so loud that two of the candles fell from the ledge of the fireplace and extinguished as it hit the ground.

The twins could no longer fight their interest. They knew that whatever was about to happen next would be too good for them to miss. Jon was repeatedly hitting the nail that would seal his own fate, and the children knew it was only a matter of time before the Lord Commander came out.

Next thing they knew, all of the dishware went cluttering to the ground. Porcelain, glass, and fish guts sprawled all across the floor as Brienne flew across the table grabbing Jon once again. The children watched in complete awe of the mess they violently created.

Brienne was willing to be more forgiving before, she was just stubborn and sometimes it took a while. But tonight, she felt Jon antagonized her on purpose. That his comments served to undermine her in front of her children, and that was something she wouldn't tolerate.

She jammed her fist into his stomach, bringing the ale he just swallowed back up his throat. He clutched his gut now holding back vomit as she struggled to regain his balance. Had he not been a little tipsy he'd be able to rise to his feet much quicker than he did now. Ilizabeth stood back covering her ears in fright of all the ruckus. The Lord Commander cocked her fist back once more as a dizzy drunken Jon swayed back at forth.

"That's the second time you've crossed the line with my children, Jon. I warned you. Do not speak, as if you have more say in anything that has to do with their lives and well being than I" Brienne shouted before exiting the room.

The servant boys were completely unphased by the encounter as they quickly swooped in to clean the floor so the royal children would not get injured. Ily and Rickon moved in to help their Uncle to his own private chambers.

As they walked to the end of the balcony they looked out to the woods of Wintefell. It sometimes scared them seeing how pitch black the night could get. The castle always remained well lit with torches, but the further out you went the less you could see. Both Rickon and Ily wished their Uncle a goodnight before seeing that he got to bed safely. As soon as they moved far away enough from the door, the two burst out into a loud exchange of words.

"Seven Hells, I thought mother was going to rip his head off!" Rickon shouted, thrilled by the rowdy energy.

"I know right. I wonder what started the fight in the first place."

As Ilizabeth and Rickon continued walking back to their sleeping chambers, she noticed the expression on the boy's face fall immediately after she talked about the fight. The blonde hair girl jumped in front of her brother, stopping him dead in his tracks while forcing him to make eye contact with her. She could tell by the way he twisted his torso side to side, darting his eyes in every direction but hers, he was keeping something from her.

"You heard them arguing?" She asked. Rickon's body tensed at the way his sister was able to put things together so quickly.

"I can't say, Ilizabeth" He turned away from her.

"You know the truth, the truth about us!" Ilizabeth shouted. "How could you not tell me?"

Rickons ginger brows pulled together upwards and his mouth drew back in shock of his sister's intuition. He had no choice but to tell the girl what he knew. The boy thought of adding some of his final words to his confession being that his mother was going to kill him when she found out, and he knew she inevitably would.

Regardless he swore his sister to secrecy before dragging her into his own private chambers. The room sat cold and dark. Ilizabeth stood holding the door allowing for a small amount of light to shine inside so her brother could find the fireplace. He grabbed the tinder box, striking the flint together a few times over the charred rag before throwing it into the pile of dry wood.

The luminous light of the fire growed slowly but big filling the room. Ilizabeth moved opposite of the door, thus lighting the candles that sat at the desk in front of the window. She took a peak at the sheet music sprawled across the creaky wooden post. His old wooden lyre sat on top of all the papers tempting the girl to pluck a string. Its vibrations let out a strange sounding noise being that it wasn't in tune. Ilizabeth moved back to the fireplace and sat on the floor next to it. She waited for her brother to join her by the fire so they could talk, just as they did all their lives..

As Rickon began to explain everything he knew to the girl, she thought back to her mothers. Ilizabeth was a bit more knowledgeable of their past, which allowed her to view them differently than her brother. The tradition of being a man's woman didn't completely fall with the wight walkers many years ago, and Ilizabeth understood that.

Despite growing up as a Princess is her position, she was still a girl and she comprehended how that influenced everything their mother did. That is why she picked her battles with them very carefully, also just because her brother was so headstrong that everything was a battle worth dying for, and she figured someone had to be the less stressful sibling.

"The Land of Always Winter" She whispered to herself.

Ilizabeth couldn't understand why that sounded so familiar to her. She began to feel light headed  as her vision blurred. Her eyes rolled backward in her head as she collapsed into her brother's lap. Rickon let out a loud shriek that echoed rumbled through the castle alerting both of his Mothers whose room was directly above his.

The argument between the two halted as they scrambled the room in search of their robes. Ilizabeth laid still and silent in Rickon's lap. He looked down at her, allowing the terrifying sight of her ghostly white eyes to scare him into thinking the worst. The door to his private chambers burst open as his mothers quickly moved to his side. As soon as the girl made contact with Sansa her eyes came forward. She blinked a few times before jolting up from their lap.

"What just happened?" She asked.

"You fainted," Rickon replied.

Sansa and Brienne's adrenaline began to settle as they heard their daughters' voices. The sound of Rickon screaming rattled through their bones. The Lord Commander wished she could say she'd never seen anyone's eyes go back like that, but that'd be a lie.

"Ily, what did you see?" Brienne shut the door whilst asking the question. She figured a few of the knights on patrol were alerted by the noise and would be here any minute.

"What do you mean?" She struggled to catch her breath. "I didn't see anything."

"Are you sure?" Brienne moved towards the girl. "Take a second and think, my love"

Ilizabeth wracked her brain for a memory, the space in between conscious and not. Pitch-black darkness filled the forefront of her mind. If that's all she could remember seeing, why did she feel this out of body feeling?

"I didn't see anything"

Sansa and Rickon watched the two as they wondered why Brienne would ask something like that. Both the Queen and her boy were tired of the secrets that were growing in their family like weeds to a garden.

"What do you know?" Sansa asked her lover. "The truth please"

"You remember how Bran told us he could warg into things like the wolf, Summer" Brienne replied to which her Queen nodded. "When someone wargs their eyes go back leaving only the white of it on the surface, just like that"

Brienne pointed to her daughter. The twins were familiar with the term warg, people of the North always spoke of it in reference to the King in the South. But hearing their mother say that one of them may have possibly just done it brought a pleasant surprise over the two.

"But the girl says she saw nothing, maybe I'm mistaken" Brienne sighed while sitting on her son's bed.

Brienne was rattled by the overwhelming nature of the magical blood of the First Men. First her son had seen Ned Stark, and now her daughter warged into darkness. She cursed the woman in black everyday, for bringing her such difficult blessings.

Chapter Text

Brienne and Sansa found themselves chasing after the two sets of legs that flew freely in the fields just out the castle gates. The bareness of their small-scale feet collided hard with grass occasionally sending a feather feel between their toes. The smile on their spirits and faces paired well with the giggles that echoed through the tree and leaves of the forest. Just as the mothers began to tire of playing with the children for hours, they stopped at the top of an emerald spring hill.

The women watched the twins go hand in hand as they soared down the mountain, holding their opposing arms out as if they were birds. Sansa was quickly reminded of how The Hound referred to her as such when she was a little girl.

She wondered if it was because he admired how rambunctious and free children were, or if because when they met she was locked in, desperately trying to fly away like a caged little bird. Regardless of reason, the connection brought a warm and complete feeling to Sansa Stark as the children turned and climbed back up the fill for the sixteenth time this afternoon.

Eventually the tired royal fair-skinned family occupied a small cluster of space in the fields of blueberry colored myosotis flowers  whilst pointing out shapes in the clouds with the kids. Rickon's small bum sat in between the legs of Brienne whilst fidgeting everytime he recognized a different shape. Ilizabeth sat in between the three with Sansa on her left side. Her free bright platinum blonde hair danced with the light winds from the altitude as began to pluck tiny little flowers and stick them into her mothers vibrant auburn hair.

"That one's a bear!"  Young Rickon shouted to the sky.

"A big scary one. RAWWWRRRR" Brienne growled, eventually getting the boy to join in.

She laughed as he curled his fingers into claws and roared with all his might. Brienne observed her growing boy everyday, practically counting the spaces in which he grew every night. With only five years of age he now stood practically at her hip, and with Brienne's long legs, that was quite big.

Sometimes in watching too long, she'd grow a toneless voice in the pits of her mind telling her that it wouldn't be long before this was the last time she'd do this. Children grew, just as fast as her son's physical body did. Still she'd smile sitting with the utmost contempt for the time.

"Can your brother and I have a few of those very pretty flowers?" Brienne spoke nicely to her daughter.

"What should I say, mother?" She whispered while giggling towards Sansa.

"I think your mother would look very beautiful with her flowers tucked in hair" Sansa smiled.

"What about me? I want to look beautiful!" Rickon pouted.

"And some for Rickon too, so we can all be as beautiful as ever" The Queen spoke dramatically.

After plucking more flowers to slip into their contrasting toned hair, Ilizabeth rose from her seat in between them sticking out her hand. Rickon placed his hand in hers, wrapping his much longer fingers around the dorsal side of her hand, and the two took off. Down the hill they went, their legs running as fast as horses, giggling, hand in hand.

Today, the children found themselves doing the same exact thing. Sprinting through the back alleys of Wintertown against the harsh winds of the night. It blew their hair back, allowing for them to feel the coolness on their scalps.

Only now, the aging of their minds brought them to something far less innocent than cloud watching and flower picking. The condensation of their warm breath colliding with the moonlight air floated out from underneath their hoods as they hid in an alleyway. As they struggled to search the town moving only through the back ends, Rickon tripped over a broken barrel board mixed in with the heavy piles of snow.

"Quiet will you! If Mother Bri catches us out here, she'll hang us both" Ilizabeth whispered aggressively.

"Sorry" He replied, while crouching down.

With both of their hair colors not only being unique but radiantly vibrant, the children figured disguising themselves was the best way to remain unseen. Last week when Nera and Ilizabeth went down to the shops, the blonde made sure she picked up two wheat colored, shin length, hooded cloaks.

They'd been carefully planning things out for quite some time now, in hopes that it would sail as smooth as a ship to Tarth. Ilizabeth led her brother down the alley between two dark stoned buildings. She traced her hand against the cold wetness, using it as a guide in the dark.

Finally the twins arrived at the hidden wooden door on the back ends of a semi-tall stoned structure. They recognized the mark above the door that was drawn onto a sheet of paper for her earlier. The backside of Rickon's finger knuckles gently knocked on the door in a specific rhythm, then they waited. The door flipped open slowly allowing for the children to finally enter.

Rickon went in first, suddenly being startled by the thin lips that pushed against his. The boy moved back slightly allowing for his eyes to finally focus on the figure in front of him. There stood the rather adorable lofty looking young man that Rickon grew to adore rather quickly. His curly chestnut hair shaggy sat on top of his head with many coils coming so far down that they occasionally covered his chocolate eyes. His skin fawn and rich with a burst of tawny microscopic markings riddled all over his nose and cheeks. Rickon stood blushing at the public display of affection, and by public he means in front of his sister.

"I didn't think you'd come" The young man spoke excitedly.

"It took Ilizabeth forever to get ready" He replied, turning to his sister.

"Hey, we didn't all come here to meet with people we already knew," She responded.

The three currently stood in the back of the dimly lit area. Their eyes scanned the room in awe of all the promiscuity happening before their eyes. Towards the front of the room sat four couches facing the small fire pit. The knights of Winterfell occupied those seats, and their laps were also being used as a seat, by a variety of bare naked women laughing at their humorless jokes for a pretty coin.

Some shook their bare breasts in the faces of the men while straddling them, while others sat groaning loudly presumably with the men inside them.

Rickon turned away. It felt strange that he was the one feeling embarrassed. He wasn't the one naked, squealing like a pig being slaughtered. Still he couldn't cool the heat, flushing his cheeks.

The boy had come here to sneak away with his handsome secret. He wished to sit under the stars and hold hands whilst laughing about their lesson with Ser Edam earlier, as they usually did then snuck out together. So how was it that something so innocent and pure could turn so ungodly that fast.

While Rickon anxiously stood there taunted by the moans of both women and men. Ilizabeth was only concerned with one thing, finding her best friend. Nera managed to convince two knights to meet her and a friend there.

Ilizabeth had no idea how her friend managed to talk her into coming to a place like this at her age. Although she had no intention of doing anything like the other women here did, she was still riddled with curiosity. She wondered what the point of doing something like this was if not for love. Then she also remembered she came from a family of money and royal opportunity. Maybe if she hadn't she'd have another reason for being here.

"Alix, Where's Nera?" She asked.

"Back here. I managed to bribe one of the guards with a week's worth of free bread from my fathers shop. He told us we could have this room, and be completely undisturbed". He grinned, while leading them straight across the door they came through.

They pulled back the curtain that covered the door to the room. Whatever was behind the enclosed fixtures meant it wasn't meant to be seen or discovered, and Rickon feared that. Ilizabeth was captivated by the dim candle lit room. Two freshly made up beds faced each other against the west wall of the room where the window sat.

Her moon colored eyes fell upon the sofa chairs occupied by her good friend Nera, and the two knights she snagged for them to chat up. One man sat already with his arm around the brunette, leaving Ilizabeth with no other choice. From where she stood, his side profile might not have been something worth complaining about. Still, she was nervous. After all, a man in a place like this could only be looking for one thing, and she was not interested.

"Alright just a few hours, then back to the castle" She spoke to her brother who still sat uneasily.

If there was one thing the girl was good at, it was pretending to be confident when really, on the inside she was cowering like a thief caught by a knight. Rickon had a reputation of being a nervous ninny, and often Ilizabeth tried to be what her brother couldn't be, so he'd never be left wading in the waters, drowning on his own. She wore confidence like the face of a different man, convincing everyone around her that she was someone she really wasn't.

Ilizabeth held her head high as she moved towards the faded coil colored couches where her company sat. She looked around the room, taking in the decor of the naked woman tapestry hung on the back wall. Her eyes moved through the room as if she was entering a new world, and in a way she was. She sat down next to the young knight, now looking at the pair across from her. The young knight sat next to Nera was a bit younger than the other, closer to her and Nera's age. He pulled her in close, whispering something in her ear.

Ilizabeth began to feel something she'd never felt in her life. A green eyed wave washed over her body as she felt the absence of an arm around her shoulder. All the boys of Winterfell were stupid, she knew that, but it didn't change the fact that she wanted someone to fawn over her. She finally turned to face the man dressed in a leather tunic and chainmail armor.

The young boy looked familiar, though she was sure she'd never seen him before. His shoulders were broad, his eyes wide and brown, and his face was clean. The two looked at each other without saying a word.

He couldn't believe the girl he was supposed to be meeting tonight was the Princess. Nor could he believe that he was actually sitting so close to beautiful face. All of the men, and even some women in the kingdom noticed that the girls' looks weren't only unique but they were breathtaking. Whilst growing up all she would hear was how the bridge of her nose pinched just at the right point. Or how much they adored the way her whiteish blonde eyelashes complimented her sterling silver eyes.

He looked at the girl like the forbidden fruit the entire realm knew she was. But he didn't see her the way other people did, not now. When other boys looked at the Princess all they could think of was bedding her, whereas he wanted to know her. Something about her told him that she was a girl worth knowing, a girl with more than just a beautiful face and a rich mother or two.

"Princess! You shouldn't be in a place like this!" The young knight exclaimed.

"Why not, you're here" She flirted. "What's your name?"

"Gabrin Dawghetry"

His recognizable features fell in place like puzzle pieces. She finally understood why the boy had looked so familiar. Though they'd never officially met, she recognized him as one of the boys in Rickons sparring group with Master Eddam. She knew that Ser Galvin had a young brother, she just never pieced together that this was him, despite their uncanny resemblance.

"Your Ser Galvins brother!" She exclaimed.

"Aye, I believe my brother and your mother are pretty good friends. The Lord Commander, I mean" He talked.

"You're not a knight." Ilizabeth looked at him in confusion.

"Well, I will be soon I- I just . .. borrowed this from my brother" He stammered now gesturing to his armor.

Ilizabeth chuckled at the way the boy stammered through his sentencee. Still she couldn't help but notice that the boy wasn't nervous in a way that suggested he still had interest, but more so in a way where he looked as if he'd flea if she moved any closer to him. She began to grow frustrated at the man's lack of initiation, especially being that Nera was already locking lips with the other knight. Ilizabeth was the most beautiful girl in all of the North, so why couldn't she get this boy to take any interest in her. She even batted her infamous Northern eyelashes, and still nothing.

"Do you think I'm ugly?" Ilizabeth pretended to feel insecure.

"Not at all Princess! You're the most beautiful girl in all of Westeros! But that's slightly the problem, you're still a girl, a child. I've just aged to sixteen, I'm too old for you, at least for now" He said.

"And I've just had my fourteenth, you are not too old for me. I've bled you know!" Ilizabeth replied. She wanted to kick herself for that last part.

"Princess-" He sighed.

"Tell me the truth!" She demanded now getting frustared,

"What do you think the Lord Commander whose also the Queen of the North would do if she found out I did anything with her daughter in a brothel? " He questioned.

Ilizabeth didn't respond.

"She'd cut my hands off, if she didn't cut my lips off first. I'm sorry, Princess but I must go"

Drak rose to his feet whilst quickly moving to the sofa across from them to grab the attention of the other knight. He warned the young boy with Nera about what would happen if they were caught with the Princess, causing the other knight to rethink his decision in being here.

"I'm sorry, Nera. But he's right. She'll kill us." The blonde boy apologized while kissing the girl one last time.

The two rushed out of the secret brothel room leaving nothing but the virginity of Nera still intact and the bruised ego of Ilizabeth behind. She turned to her brunette friend, her mouth still slightly gaping as she processed what exactly happened. Ilizabeth apologized to Nera profusely, to which she responded that she wasn't angry nor did she think it was her fault. Ily sat with her face in her hands sulking at the fact that even in being one of the most lovely girls in all of Westeros, the fact that she was the Princess would always scare them away.

While Ilizabeth continued to pout on the sofa, further into the room where the beds were, laid Alix and Rickon. The boys remained both innocent and pure after Rickon awkwardly blurted out that he wasn't ready. To which Alix replied that he wasn't either. He genuinely wanted to spend time with the Prince, and that made Rickon feel more desirable than anything in the world. Rickon laid on the older boy's slightly built chest whilst listening to the stampede that was his heart.

Rickon had never done anything like this before. He felt strange laying on a bed with another boy, especially in a place like this. Still everything moved at the pace he wanted it to.

He was surprised to see how nervous Alix was that he always remained so poised and confident when training with Ser Edam and the other boys. Alix twirled a strand of thin fiery hair around his finger while watching the motionless boy.

"I didn't mean to make you feel forced or anything by bringing you here, it was just the only place I could find away from the snow that was semi-free, and private" Alix apologized.

"No, no. It's fine. I . . . like it here" Rickon was terrible at lying.

"It's alright, I know this place is a bit too raunchy for the beautiful, Prince" He laughed now stroking his hair.

Rickon loved being called beautiful, it made him feel lighter than the cloud in the sky. Although he was occasionally teased for it, the word played a huge role in his decision to stop cutting his hair. For years he'd let Mother Sansa sit him at the vanity and bring his overgrown hair back above his eyebrows. Until one day he asked her not to. From there on out his maine continued to grow for years now as long as most of the highborn women of Westeros.

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" Rickon asked insecurely while sitting up. He turned to face Alix with his knees now curled to his chest.

"Of course!" He replied, resting his back against the headrest. "Do you think I'm handsome?"

"Yes," Rickon rolled his eyes at the silly line of questioning.

"Good, now that we've got that out the way, on to bigger things. Why won't you tell your Mothers about us?"

The redhead froze at the line of questioning. That was something he really couldn't put into words. Half of him knew that the fear and hesitation was irrational being that he was the product of the first two wedded women in all of Westeros. If they were allowed to love each other, he was allowed to love another boy if he wanted.

But being that the boy knew of no other same sex couples, he saw their case as an exception. He couldn't help but feel a great deal of shame still. Everyone else around him was normal, even his twin sister, so why couldn't he be?

"I will, I swear. I'm just . . . nervous," he admitted. Alix didn't want to push it any further, he understood how difficult these things could be being that his own mother and father didn't know.

"Well it's okay. You're lucky I actually enjoy sneaking around. Although the Lord Commander is quite scary. Everytime we're together I see her popping up from behind a barrel or something, watching us with those intense eyes" Alix smiled.

"I know, you should've seen her fighting with my Uncle Jon today," Rickon laughed.

Rickon practically transcended at the developing husky voice of the boy across from him. They sat across from each other on the bed, talking of the futures they wanted together for hours. He knew he could stay there all night, and he would've had it not be for his irritated sister rushing him away. Rickon wrapped his arms around the young lofty boy once more before vanishing into the night.

Chapter Text

Ilizabeth roamed the castle grounds aimlessly. She remained polite, just like her mothers' taught her to be, by greeting everyone she passed with a smile and a curtsey back. She'd done her second lap around the entire castle greeting everyone she possibly could out of pure boredom.

Being that Nera's father caught her sneaking back into their home after their night at the brothel, the girl wasn't allowed out alone, not for quite some time. Ilizabeth was so bored that she contemplated tossing herself into one of the swampy piles of slushy snow water that formed as mud holes all over the castle, just so she'd have an excuse to buy a new outfit.

She had plenty of friends, but there wasn't anyone in all of Westeros, apart from her family, that she valued as much as Nera. She comes from a decent family, and has always offered Ilizabeth honest advice in her greatest times of need. Of course, sometimes her honest advice could get them into precarious situations, as it did the other night.

The Princess held the skirt of gown up, keeping it away from all the dirt riddle slush on the ground caused by the melting snow. Sansa had sewn it for her last week. It was rather simplistic, the thick wool fur was dyed a dark eggplant shade, and a few flowers were sewn along the circular collar down to the sides of her rib cage. Her mother helped spruce it up by adding long wide sleeves with golden fabric on the interior. Ilizabeth always preferred what her mother made for her, she knew how to make sure she always remained a perfect combination of both women.

The North's favorite time of year was soon coming to a close, as it always did. Ilizabeth hated going out towards the end of Winter, the sopping wet gown would stick to her boots, locking her to the ground wherever she walked. Still, muddy boots couldn't compare to the boredom she felt in the castle alone. With Nera grounded, Rickon off at training, and her deeming everyone else uninteresting, she figured her best chance at fun would be outside, where half of the castle seemed to be.

She passed by her Uncle Jon who helped an elderly man load coal into the wheelbarrow he rolled into town. He remained at the castle despite everything that had happened. Everyday Brienne's eyes caught his she thought about tossing him outside the castle gate right then and there, but she knew her wife would never forgive her. His presence didn't anger her because of the two incidents they had, but because he remained here, waiting to take his niece with him when he went back home, and Brienne refused to change her mind on the situation.

The Princess finally fell upon the outskirts of the Courtyard where her brother and a group of other young boys were involved in a training session with the Master of Arms, Ser Eddam. She noticed Rickon first, he sparred with a boy unfamiliar to her, but seeing that her brother was beating him badly, she figured maybe that was for a reason.

Then she recognized the long slicked back luscious brown curls that she began to adore in just one simple conversation. He stood next to Ser Eddam, pointing to his brother as he asked some sort of question. She fawned over the way his eyelids rose and fell slightly as he changed expressions, the way his lips moved when he spoke. She'd never kissed a boy before, and she was sure it wasn't anything like when she practiced on her hand and pillow in private. But she wanted to.

The sparring came to a conclusion after Rickon knocked the boy flat on his back in the mud. He groaned loudly as both the pain and the muck all over him before accepting the hand Rickon offered to help him up. Ser Eddam called for the boys to line up before dismissing them for the day.

"You've done well today boys, as you have for the last several months" He commended them. "That being said, it's time to promote you boys to squires. Find a knight and ask for their guidance and remember if you ask a member of the Queensguard you'll have to work twice as hard to get lessons from them as you cannot always accompany them, so choose wisely!"

"I'm talking to you Elden, you need all the help you can get." He added.

The boys snickered as they began to disperse. Ilizabeth ran her hands through her hair nervously, then she fluffed out her dress. She looked out to Gabrin who hadn't noticed she was standing there yet and figured this was a good time to speak with him. Her eyes fell upon the sweat that clumped his curls together, and beaded down his face. She couldn't help but be captivated by the way it rolled off his jaw and dripped into the snow.

The boy grew closer quickly. Ilizabeth snapped out of her haze now walking forward with her head down. He bumped into her, sending them both back a few steps just as she planned. His chocolate eyes settled in on her stormy ones before growing wide in realization of what just happened.

"My apologies, Princess. I should've paid better attention to where I was heading, forgive me" He said quickly as he bowed.

"It's quite alright." She trailed off for a moment.

She was unsure of what to say because she was unsure of how she felt. There'd been plenty of boys who pursued her ruthlessly, refusing to give up as if obtaining her was like obtaining the gold her mother Brienne offered to the winner of the joust she held every year in celebration of her own name day. But today was the first time she found herself pining after someone. She felt dirty.

"Listen, I just wanted to say that, I'm sorry you had to leave last night, I really do wish you would've stayed" She said honestly.

"Believe me, Princess. I would've loved nothing more than to stay with you but . . ." He responded.

"Do you always plan to be afraid of my mother?" Ilizabeth questioned.

"That's unfair. If you were in my position you'd be afraid too"

"Not if I really wanted to get to know me. I wouldn't let anything stand in my way" She assured him.

Just as she turned to storm off from the boy, he grabbed her arm. His callouses pressed into the soft wool lining of her sleeve as he turned her around to face him. She stumbled forward, now inches away from the boy's face. The two jumped back in response. He fixed his hair, while she fluffed out her gown once more, before they both finally settled.

"Alright look, meet me in the Glass Garden tomorrow as soon as the sun sets for good. I'll be waiting for you there," He grinned.

"Really?" Ilizabeth was surprised that it worked.

"I would really like to get to know you"

Gabrins eyes trailed high behind her head. His smile dropped suddenly. Ilizabeth analyzed the way he gulped, the way his eyes grew wide, the way he froze in place, trembling at sight behind them. Ilizabeth turned to follow his line of sight, all the way up the stairs of the Library Tower, where her mothers stood.

Brienne leaned against the balcony as she always did when she oversaw Rickon's lessons. Her eyes stared down at the two of them, penetrating the scared soul of Gabrin. Just as he began to look away, he noticed a mob rushing towards the stairs where the Queens were.

The other boys in the group rushed to the armory to put away their equipment for the day before rushing back to the courtyard. They shoved each other harshly as they fought to get ahead of one another. One boy received a mud facial after tripping over his own feet. Despite Master Eddams advice on picking a probable knight to squire for, half of them rushed to the side of the Lord Commander.

Ilizabeth turned back to face the boy who too was now rushing up the stairwell to talk to her mother. She huffed in frustration of her mothers presence always affecting her life with boys. Rickon, Eldan, and the only other redheaded boy in Winterfell named Howwar were the only ones who didn't approach Brienne. The other two found other knights to ask, whereas Rickon approached his sister.

"I knew everyone would ask her," Rickon spoke, standing beside her.

"Well, she is the best" Ilizabeth sighed. "Who do you plan on asking?"

"I was actually thinking of asking Uncle Pod" Rickon shurgged

"What, Uncle Pod? He's not even in Winterfell, hasn't been for some time now" Ilizabeth now faced her brother. "What's the matter, you really don't wanna do this?"

The twins hadn't seen their Uncle Podrick in almost ten years. After Ilizabeth died, he never truly recovered, and couldn't handle walking through the castle grounds any longer. It was difficult for Brienne to accept, but she understood. Everytime entered the sept she was reminded of what happened here. If she remained outside long enough, she could still remember what it sounded like when Podrick screamed. The way his voice shrieked in pure agony would stick with her until her last day.

He occasionally sends gifts to the twins from the island, but they hadn't received one since their tenth name day. They all hoped the man was okay. That was all anyone could do from here.

As for Rickon, he couldn't help but wonder if it was because he felt it was the only thing he was truly good at. And to some, that was enough, but it wasn't for him. He was a boy born full of passion and wished to do things because he loved it, not just because other factors in his life suggested that he should.

"I do. I do." He said, still sounding somewhat unconvinced.

"Well make a decision quickly so you're prepared when mother asks. And do me a favor . . . talk to Gabrin . . tell him about how wonderful I am, will you?"

"He already told you, you're too young," Rickon stuck his tongue out at her.

"I didn't ask you what he said" She huffed before shooing the boy off.

Rickon watched in annoyance of all the other boys swooning over his mother before rolling his eyes and heading to the Godswood.

But to Brienne, it was something she felt extremely proud of. She couldn't help but think of how far she'd come since leaving Tarth at seventeen. On the inside she smiled as widely as she did the night she was knighted by Ser Jamie Lannister. But outside, she had to keep the tough exterior that brought them all up here in the first place. Sansa stood by her Queen's side watching proudly as the boys tripped over each other, fighting to get her attention.

"Please Ser, I'm the best in the class!"

"It'd be an honor to learn from you, Your Grace"

"Pick me, Your Grace!"

"Will can barely hold a sword, Your Grace! Pick me!"

Brienne grew overwhelmed with all the shouting and pushing. She commanded that they stop immediately and line up like soldiers. Half of this was really just to get them quiet again, but the other saw it as an opportunity to test them. Brienne slowly walked along the row of seven, examaning everything about their stature and hold.

"Does anyone know who my son has chosen to ask?" She couldn't help herself.

The boys all responded with a very respectful no, but on the inside they were cursing the air in fear of the boy cheating and picking his own mother. They wanted a fair chance in being a knight. Not all of them could be blessed with Brienne's large stature, served with a side of skill swordsmanship lessons for breakfast every morning. This was their chance to become something great, maybe even someone as great as her.

"You cannot choose him, my love" Sansa gently placed her back on Brienne's back while whispering in her ear.

"I know, I was just asking a question," Brienne responded with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"Alright, Alright" She held her hands up playfully.

She looked through the row of boys once more before finally settling in on them. Her eyes fell upon a face she'd known on another. His hair had the same tint and style as Ser Galvins when he was the boy's age. Now the older man's hair remained cut short giving it a much darker appearance than before. She noticed that the boy was one of the older ones in the group, meaning she wouldn't have to deal with yet another squire following her around forever.

"Dawghetry" She called. The boy stepped forward. "We begin tomorrow at sun rise"

His fist balled up tightly whilst thrusting in the air with his lips pressed pursed together. The rest of the boys groaned before turning away to find another knight to ask before they were all gone. Brienne was expecting the boy to leave with his friends too, but he didn't.

Instead he stood in silence mustering up the courage to speak. She admired the confidence he had and from what she'd seen in his training with Rickon impressed her.

"Thank You, Lord Commander. I'm very thankful for the opportunity to learn from you " He bowed.

"You're welcome," Brienne replied. Just as he turned his back to her, taking a few steps down the steps, she called out to him.

"Boy"

"Yes, Ser"

Brienne kept her hands tucked behind her back as she moved towards the top of the winding stairwell. She bent over slightly, now meeting the boy at an eye level. She got a good look at his face, and the nervous expression he held just before she pulled back.

"I saw you with Ilizabeth. Do you think she's a pretty girl?" Brienne asked.

His stomach practically dropped to the floor. His teeth clenched and his eyes widened in shock at the Lord Commander's question. If he said yes, he'd be admitting to liking her, and if he said no, he'd be insulting them both. He racked his mind in panic, unsure of what he was supposed to say.

"It's not a trick boy" Brienne grew impatient

"Yes, of course, Your Grace. The Princess is very pretty" He nodded profusely.

"Gabrin, I know my daughter is a very pretty girl, she is the Queen's daughter after all. The high lords have been offering us their sons since she came out into this world, and we've turned every single one down. I'd advise you to stay away from my daughter, before I make yours the next" She threatened him.

"Yes, Your Grace" He bowed before turning and running.

Brienne kept a stern expression as she watched the boy disappear in a spiral. Just as he arrived at the bottom, stammering to get back up after falling twice, Brienne let out a loud throaty laugh. Her stomach began to tighten as she cackled. She didn't really mean anything by it, she was sure he was a nice boy, she just loved scaring them away.

Sansa joined Brienne at the edge, shaking her head at her wifes source of entertainment. She hated to admit that seeing the boy squirm was quite funny.

"You scared that poor boy half to death" Sansa continued to snicker.

"Ah well, it was worth it"

Brienne slid her head around Sansa's waist, pulling her close to her side for extra warmth. They feasted their eyes on the even funnier sight that was Ilizabeth instantly trying to speak to the fleeing boy once again. His pupils shifted up towards the Queens' before speaking a few more panicked words to the Princess before continuing to scurry away.

"Ilizabeth is a pretty girl because you're her mother too, you know? Her looks favor yours, its your beauty she obtained," Sansa complimented her wife.

The Lord Commander wanted to respond. She felt it was rude to ignore her wife, but she wasn't quite sure how to go about it. Sansa was the only person in all of Westeros that told her she was pretty, and beautiful, and loved, and for the most part she believed her. In spite of the voices that still managed to linger in her mind suggesting otherwise.

"Does that mean I stand a chance at keeping him away from our little girl?" Brienne joked, changing the subject.

Sansa, who was too familiar with her wife's avoidant tendancies, rose to her the tips of her toes to place a gentle kiss on Brienne's cheek. Her lips lingered there, dangerously close to the corner of her lips, before saying. "You are very beautiful, my love"

"But, no. I don't think you'll be able to keep him away"

Brienne sulked and Sansa giggled at the babylike pout coming from her lofty wife. As they continued to snicker and laugh, Ilizabeth turned in their direction. The two tried their best to drop the smiles before their daughter noticed but it was too late. She grabbed the end of the gown furiously, hauling herself up the stairs while mumbling under her breath.

"You're in trouble now" Sansa joked to Brienne as they watched the girl stomp across the balcony.

Ilizabeth's boots stomped against the cobblestone stairwell built into the side of the library tower. Her pale face was now bright red, which didn't help settle the women's laughter. She stopped in front of them, placing her hands on her hips as she let out one last huff.

"Mother! What did you say to him?" She whined. Sansa kept a serious face, not wanting to upset her already riled up daughter. But Brienne couldn't help but watch the girl amusingly, she found the entire thing to be quite humorous. "And what is so funny"

"Bri" Sansa slapped her shoulder with a smirk.

"I was just teasing, my love" Brienne finally spoke to her daughter.

"Well I would appreciate it if you wouldn't from now on" She huffed. "Being a Princess already makes me untouchable, but being your Princess, it's as if I don't exist at all"

"You have no idea how happy hearing that makes me," Brienne sighed. Sansa slipped the crook of her arm into Brienne's now walking at her side, still conversing with the child.

"Mother, please do something!" Ilizabeth appealed to the redhead now.

"Ily, I promise I'll do my best but it might be hard considering the boys set to be her squire"

Ilizabeth stopped dead in her tracks. She figured after her mother saw them together, she wouldn't choose him as punishment. But this was well planned. Because if Gabrin was too busy squiring for her mother, not only would he be kept away from her, but she'd be absolutely sure that it remained that way.

Ilizabeth's ears practically blew out steam; she was so angry. She couldn't understand why her mother did this to her, especially since she saw herself as the innocent one, the one less deserving of such cruel treatment, the one who wasn't named Rickon Stark.

"I can't believe you!" Ilizabeth shouted.

Sansa guided both her wife and daughter inside the library in attempts to keep their argument from falling upon the ears of Winterfell. She shooed all of those who sat in the candle lit room outside, so her family could argue in peace. Her wife and daughter stopped just underneath the chandelier of candles. Sansa sighed as she leaned up against the edge of the two wooden tables pushed together in the center of the room.

"The boy asked me, Ily," Brienne continued.

"But you only said yes to keep him away from me!"

"Ilizabeth-" Brienne tried to reason with the girl.

"No mother, I'll never marry if you keep treating me like I'm still a little girl" Ilizabeth tried to reel herself in.

"You are my little girl, and you always will be Ily. You're simply not ready for all of that just yet." The blonde looked at her daughter sympathetically.

Sansa looked out to the dusty books stuffed into the shelves on her right. She wondered if there was anything in there besides the history and fables of Westeros. Maybe something on how to keep your wife from arguing with every single member of your family? Even a simple script on how to keep the peace would suffice because she desperately needed it right now.

"I'm not a little girl! Next year I will be a woman full grown. I've bled, I can carry children of my own. And . . . next year I'll be off beyond the remains of the Wall with Uncle Jon, anyways" Ilizabeth blurted out.

Sansa felt her spine straighten as the words fell from her mouth. She snapped her head back towards the two, more specifically to her wife. Sansa mumbled a silent prayer, hoping that Brienne would look at her and think before responding. Sansa knew it was just a matter of time before Ily caught wind of the secret. The twins shared everything, and she imagined Rickon told the girl within a few days of finding out himself.

Brienne stood quietly, looking at her daughter blankly. She tried to find something to shout, something to command, something to assert her control over, but there was nothing, nothing except the thought of something awful happening to her daughter. The Lord Commander began to feel her chest tighten at the thought, she breathed in deeply whilst struggling to calm her erratically pounding chest.

"I'm sorry, mother. I-" Ilizabeth didn't know what to say. She felt guilty for revealing such sensitive information in the heat of the moment. Although she hated hurting her parents, the girl had already made a decision in regards to what she would be doing. Still, she knew now wasn't the time for this.

"Did Jon tell you?" Brienne asked, looking for a reason to grow angry.

"That doesn't matter, my love. The point is she knows" Sansa didn't want another fight between her wife and brother.

She turned to look at her daughter before speaking. As much as she hated the thought of sending Ilizabeth anywhere without them, she knew the girl was entitled to make her own decisions.

"You truly wish to go?"

"Sansa!" Brienne's head popped up.

"She has a right to decide, my love. She's our daughter not our prisoner, we cannot keep her here forever" She tried to explain.

Brienne couldn't hear any more of this. If she spent any longer in this room, she'd flip a table. Her feet pounded against the wooden floor, creaking as it boomed hollowly underneath the Lord Commander's heavy feet. Just as she held her hand out to the door knob, she was stopped.

"Sit down!" Sansa commanded the woman firmly.

Sansa's yell echoed through the enormous library bringing Brienne's limbs to a halt. She turned to face her wife in shock of the tone she just used. Sansa was never loud or demanding of Brienne, but she simply had enough. She obeyed the fiery redhead, now returning to the center of the room.

She grabbed a wooden chair, yanking it harshly towards her harshly as it scraped the floor. Sansa's angry face went soft, as it usually did immediately after she was through shouting. She walked over to her wife, stopping just before the woman who looked down. Sansa placed her soft delicate hand under Brienne's chin, lifting it up so they could make eye contact.

"My love, I could not have chosen a better person to wed. You've done nothing but love me, our children, and the realm with all of your heart. You've protected us from all harm but. . . you have to let go of all this anger" Sansa's voice was filled with compassion. "I understand you're scared, I am too. But we must remain strong, and have faith in the lessons we taught them"

The Queen may have been the only person in all of Westeros who had this effect on her. Brienne began to loom over the guilt of her actions recently. Everytime she wanted to let it go and apologize the fear would corner once more. And the only way to release herself from it was to lash out. Her sizably rough hand touched the much smaller and softer one.

"You're right, I'm sorry" Brienne apologized.

The couple turned their attention back to their daughter, now allowing her the floor to answer the question. Ilizabeth wanted to respond yes. Her voice begged to be let out like a caged bird. But fear also held her back. Was she truly expected to learn how to fight in one year, and venture off into uncharted lands with a man she just met? Granted Jon was her uncle and is a very well known man, but that still didn't make the idea any easier to process.

"I want to go, I want to help Uncle Jon and the freefolk and I want to know why the woman in black chose me," Ilizabeth said confidently.

Then she paused. Ilizabeth fidgeted with her fingers, tussling with the question inside her head. She felt guilty even thinking something like this. But her mother wasn't the only one who relied on Brienne for protection.

"Could you come with me too, mother?"

Brienne loved knowing that her daughter wanted her by side, but how was she supposed to leave the Queen. The two were going off on a journey that had no time stamp on it, and that was if they ever returned.

"I can't leave your Mother, my love" Brienne sighed. "I'm the Lord Commander of the Queensguard, I swore an oath"

Ilizabeth understood. She knew what the answer was going to be before she even asked.

"Well, you'll at least teach me to fight?"

"Of course I will"

Chapter Text

A beautifully somber melody poured from the strings of the lyre, its tune came from behind the door of Rickon Stark's chamber, where he often practiced when he wasn't in the Godswood. The room was well lit with candles, seeing as the sun had just disappeared for the night, leaving his room darker than before. After a long day of training until his bones and muscles ached, he'd draw up a bath, and play the lyre until the melody increased his body's melatonin.

His fiery curls were pulled back into a low bun just above the nape of his neck. He sat beside the window where his desk held all of his sheet music. The dew dipped parchment pages were spread all across the lacquered wood, giving his room a messier appearance than his mother preferred it to be.

The two large wooden window covers did a decent job of keeping the cold out, but Rickon still felt a draft. He enjoyed the way it brushed against his skin, raising bumps in his skin and hairs on the back of his neck. The cold was where he felt he belonged, it was somewhere he thrived, like most Starks did. His left hand wrapped around the wooden bar on the further end of the instrument sat in his lap, while his right plucked away effortlessly as the smooth strings.

Whenever he played songs he knew so well he could play it backwards, he'd find himself lost in the moment. Completely captivated by the high frequencies that resonate with something beautiful inside him, he'd close his eyes and imagine himself somewhere else. Sometimes, it was at the top of the tallest structure in Westeros, other times he sat underneath a waterfall and matched the rhythm of its stream.

Right now, the boy was about to transcend into one of those different realities when his bedroom door flew open without any warning. He jumped out of his seat, causing his lyre to tumble out of his hand. It clattered to the ground leaving a discordance tune behind to bounce off the stone in reverberance. Luckily, it was still intact. He swiftly sweeped up his lyre, and placed it on top of all his sheet music before turning to whoever was at the door.

Ilizabeth stood in front of the door, with her clenched teeth showing apologetically. He noticed his sister wasn't dressed in her nightgown, but instead she wore one of the more elaborate ones their mother crafter for her. An emerald green gown, with long silk sleeves, silver jewels strategically placed along the bust and waist of the corset, and shiny sequin shoulder pads. Judging the length of its trail, Rickon knew his sister could only be up to one thing.

"The answer is no," Rickon turned his back to her.

"I haven't even asked you anything yet" She argued.

He turned back around, now noticing the enormous grin on her face, only he thought it made her look stupid. She could barely stand still. Her arms swung back and forth as rocked from toe to heel, struggling to contain her excitement about tonight.

"I need you to make sure mothers' don't find out where I am," Elizabeth finally asked.

"Where are you off to?" He gave in.

"Gabrin has invited me to the Glass Garden" Ilizabeth grinned sheepishly.

"I thought you said he was too afraid of Mother Bri?" He raised an eyebrow.

"He's gotten over that"

"You don't really believe that do you?" He asked.

"Rickon! You're my brother! You're supposed to be supporting me, not convincing me he's too afraid of mother to show" Ilizabeth whined.

She plopped down on the bed. Her blonde hair bounced as the springs of the firm mattress moved her. Ilizabeth sighed loudly as she began to fiddle with her fingers again.

"I just don't want you to be disappointed, Ily."

"I know, but I ... I really like him Rickon,"She nodded.

"He is really cute," He rolled his eyes with a grin.

"I know right!" She exclaimed. "Now will you help me please?"

Rickon rose to his bare feet that slapped the ground damply in every step he took towards his sisters side. She instructed him to collect the pillows he didn't use at night, and shoved them underneath their fuzzy quilt. Although the twins had their own rooms, they often shared this one in response to their subtle separation anxiety.

He watched his sister pound the pillows down to match her petit shape, before tracing and tucking her hand in certain areas until it actually looked like someone was under there. A lumpy, plush, fat version of someone who was supposed to resemble their daughter. They both stood back, looking at the unconvincing shape of their deceptive decoy.

"Ilizabeth, can I tell you something?" Rickons voice grew serious.

His sister picked up on it too. Her and her brother were hardly serious, except for when they argued, that was always serious. She grabbed the pale calloused bony hand of her brother before looking into his sapphire eyes. He couldn't keep the same hold. His eyes darted everywhere except for his sister. She assumed whatever he did want to tell her was something he'd been holding onto for longer than they both cared to.

"Of course, make it quick though, I must go," Ilizabeth said jokingly.

"I saw our grandparents in the Godswood. Grandfather Ned and Grandmother Catelyn" He confided in her.

"Rickon, you were supposed to be serious!" Ilizabeth whined again.

"I am, I saw them. And when I told Mother Bri she- forget it" He sighed defeatedly.

She hoped she could speak with her brother later, being that she really needed to go. He told her to meet her just after the sun vanished for good, and the candles burning in Rickons room suggested that was a little while ago now. They both plopped down on his mattress once again, now facing the fireplace.

The fairy green vines that dangled from the top ledge of the fireplace offered  its own light. A subtle yet warm illuminating shine radiated from these vines at night if they sat in the sun all day first. They watched as the vines stirred gently from the breeze slipping through the slits of the window seal, dancing with fire and light.

"Alright, tell me more" She allowed for her brother to confide in her.

"I was out in the Godswood, reading about the Targaryen dragons when I saw them. She called him Ned, and informed him that the King was coming" He said.

"Well remember mother told us she and Aunt Arya went to King's Landing with grandfather after King Robert asked him to be his hand . . . maybe that's what they were discussing" Ilizabeth shrugged.

"But why can I see and hear them?" Rickon pondered.

"Maybe they're trying to tell you something," Ilizabeth suggested jokingly.

But Rickon must've missed that queue seeing as to how his lanky stature rose up suddenly, and strided his long legs towards his desk. He wondered what they could possibly be trying to tell him through that discussion. Then he thought that it was nothing, simply the Gods granting him the gift of sight so he could see those he'd gone long before him.

"Why do you think Mother Bri didn't want you to tell Mother Sansa?"

"I don't know." He scoffed. "They're always so secretive"

"Mother typically has good reason for things, even when we can't see it. Just trust her okay? For now at least?" Ilizabeth now stood, trying to remove herself from this conversation.

"Alright" He nodded. "I'm sorry, I've kept you here too long. Go and enjoy yourself and please be careful, Ilizabeth"

"I will, mother," She teased him. "I love you"

"I love you too," Rickon laughed.

Ilizabeth pulled her fur surcoat closed tightly, as she began to walk through the castle. Sometimes the darkness scared her. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone was out there watching her. Luckily, she stopped to grab a torch from its metallic holder on the interior of the castle walls before continuing. She waved the bright fire from side to side, as her eyes darted, following the direction of the flame in search of something.

The North Gate remained tall and impenetrable for thousands of years, and it would continue to hold for thousands of years after her. She passed it on her right, now arriving at the secluded Glass Garden. It was how they were able to keep people fed in the cold winter, when the soil would solidify, and snatch all the nutrients from their crops into hibernation with them.

The circular enclosure was almost completely made of glass. It used stone and wood for its foundation, but the twelve foot window panes took up the majority of the walls This design was important for their survival being that plants thrived off of sunlight. Ilizabeth could see a dark figure, pacing back and forth and inside the subtly lit glasshouse.

Her boots squished against the wet mud with every step she took closer to the entrance. The glass handle of the door was ice cold, leaving a frosty residue that stung Ilizabeth's hand for a few seconds. She quickly pulled it open, now entering the green of the room.

Gabrin stood too in the middle of the room, holding a few of the flowers he must've picked from in here out to the girl. Behind him was a stone sculpture sat in the middle of the fountain, one that resembled their decesant 'Bran the Builder', the first King in the North. This whole room was dedicated to his efforts to ensure Winterfell would be the direct, the heart of the North. The water sprouted from the mallet held in the sculptures hand, and poured back into the pond where the cycle was meant to continue endlessly

In Gabrins hands, were a collection of peonies. Their sweet pungent scent filled her nostrils as she walked closer to him. If it wasn't forced by its slight dirt and chemical scented undertones, she'd be more enticed to eat it. She stood in front of the boy, taking them out his hands with a gentle smile.

"Princess," He bowed.

"Thank you, Gabrin. These are very lovely"

The room was meant to be toured in one great circular loop. First you'd pass the flowers, then the vegetables, then the fruits, and finally the medicinal herbs, before stopping in front of the pond with Bran the Builder. Although both of them had already toured the place, they figured they could walk and talk as they took in all the wonderful colors in this mixed scented aroma.

A large cluster of gillyflowers was first up. She adored the way they sprouted upwards, blooming at least six open flowers on every stem and the variation of color; pink, purple, yellow, and white. The purple was her favorite, she loved its faint hue, and how it was complemented by the dark green stem. Gabrin didn't know this, but the girl loved flowers, and she could spend the rest of her night swooning over the different scents and emotions they filled her with.

"Gilly flowers are one of my favorites" She smiled now, stinking her nose gently into the center of a few flowers.

"I'll be sure to make note of that for next time" He replied awkwardly.

"No, no. Peonies are lovely too. I - I just meant, I really loved these" Ilizabeth corrected herself. The awkward silence intensified, leaving nothing but the crickets who snuck inside the garden to fill the pace.

"Did you know, my mother knows the Lady of Horn Hill quite well, their Lord too of course. But, Lady Gilly Tarly, named after the flower, she's the first freefolk woman to ever be the lady of a highborn castle, beside her husband Samwell of course" Ilizabeth informed him.

"What about Lady Faran, at the Dreadfort?" He questioned.

"She was appointed by my mother shortly after, making her the second freefolk woman to become a lady, but the first to be appointed without being married to another man" She corrected him.

"I take it you enjoy your reading lessons with Septa Hellicent then," He smirked.

"Gods no, Septa Hellicent is quite boring. I just happen to be very good at retaining things. Though when I am with her, I prefer to pay attention to the stories that pique my interest, like ones about battles and pirates. . . do you know of any like that?" Ilizabeth motioned.

They stopped on smooth grey stone flooring of the path, just in front of the next batch of flowers, blue winter roses. This was Ilizabeth's favorite flower, its frosty arctic tint was beautiful. She'd always wanted a gown inspired by the look of a winter rose being that cool colors worked well with her pale northern complexion.

Despite being beside her favorite sight in the whole world, she kept hearse on Gabrin, waiting for him to answer her question. She could tell by the way his facial muscles tensed, and how little he had to say, that he was nervous. He moved a few of his wide curls from his face, allowing for Ilizabeth to see him better as she took a step forward.

"I'm afraid my life is nowhere near as interesting as a Princess born from two Queens," he joked.

Ilizabeth frowned. She was unsure of the undertone beneath that statement. There were plenty in the North that would say it, and mean it in a sarcastic way. Pining after more information about her birth. She hoped he was different, that he didn't feel entitled to know something the Queens' wished to keep secret.

"What do you mean by that?" Her eyebrows furrowed.

"I-I meant no offense, Princess. It's just . . . well you must see how that can be quite puzzling" He continued.

"So you brought me out here simply because you find my existence more fascinating, is that it?"

"No, no. I-I I apologize, Princess" He bowed. "I shouldn't have ever mentioned it, and I won't again. You have my word"

Ilizabeth didn't respond, instead she turned her back to him, now facing the winter roses in a patch of grass. She kneeled down once again, and ran her hand across the feathery blades, stopping just before the stem of the winter rose. Just as she reached to touch it, the bottom of her palm scraped against one of its harsh prickly thorns, drawing blood. A bead of red dripped down her hand, then the stem, and onto the ground, mixing in the nutrients of the soil and grass.

"Ow" She hissed.

Gabrin swiftly pulled a multi-patterned handkerchief from his pocket, and brought Ilizabeth back to her feet. He pressed the rag into her palm firmly. His eyes fell upon hers as it soaked up the excess blood. He'd never really seen the millions of microscopic freckles on her face this close. For some reason he had the urge to touch them, to see if he' d be able to feel it underneath his thumb.

"My mother left me this handkerchief. I was only two years old when she left for Winterfell and never returned. It's sort of ironic because my father and brother begged her not to accompany Lady Flint and all of the other knights here, simply because they didn't believe in wight walkers and feared it would be a waste of their time. Then our father died, and my brother brought us here after being appointed to the Queensguard."  He explained.

"Well that's not really ironic but, continue" Ilizabeth corrected him.

"What?"

"For something to be ironic, there must be a clash between expectations and outcomes. It would only be ironic, if your father and brother were killed by wight walkers too or if they feared she'd be killed by wights, and then died before her." She continued.

The boy froze in disbelief. He'd just told her a story he found to be rather emotional, and all she could do was correct him. A smile grew on his face, as a few chuckles slipped from his lips. Then it turned into a full on laugh. His mouth opened wide as the hiccup sounding laughter bellowed through the glass room. Ilizabeth amused him in ways he didn't even think were possible.

"What's so funny?" She asked seriously.

"You! You just can't help yourself, can you? Always need to be right?" He shook his head, still laughing.

"No I suppose not," She laughed nervously. "I apologize, please go on with your story.

"It's alright. I was just going to say that I've never used it for anything. I've always been too afraid of never being able to get the stains out, and when she left it for me it didn't have any stains. I've always felt like if I ruined it she'd resent me. That if I didn't take care of the last thing she gave to her baby boy, she'd be angry with me." He confided in her. "You probably think that's silly"

"No. I don't think it's silly at all. I'm sorry I'm so clumsy and forced you to use something so sacred to you" She apologized.

"It's okay, I wanted to, Princess" He gave her a warm grin.

Small crinkles formed at the sides of his eyes. Ilizabeth found herself lost in his chocolate eyes once more. She was sure he'd kiss her. That he would cup her face gently, and press his plump lips against hers. But instead he held his arm out, motioning for her to take it and continue their walk through the garden.

The sound of their boots cluttering against the stone echoed for the next several minutes. They walked in silence again, only this time it was less awkward. The Glass Garden was nowhere near as tremendous as the gardens of other castles were, which meant there wasn't much to look at apart from the onions and carrots sprouting from the ground, waiting to be plucked and chopped for the pea soup they would enjoy tomorrow.

"How is your hand?" He asked, reminding the girl she was cut just a moment ago.

Ilizabeth flipped the dorsal side of her hand over, now looking towards the pulsing pink gasp going against the natural lines in her hand. It didn't bleed anymore, but it sure looked like it hurt.

"Maybe we should have Maester Horden take a look at it?" Gabrin suggested.

"Absolutely not, it was just a thorn not a sword. Plus, I'm having a lovely time here, with you, "she added.

"As am I" he grinned with his head hanging low.

They came across a bench, placed on the left side of King Bran's fountain and sat. Ilizabeth looked up to the hexagon glass ceiling, now noticing how beautiful the night sky looked for her. The looping panels black bar in between the shards of glass formed a pattern that resembled the pedals of a flower, and through the glass was a blackish mauve sky riddling with sterling silver stars. Ilizabeth grabbed Gabrins attention, now pointing him to the beautiful sky.

"This might be the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on. Why have I never been out here in the nightshade?" Ilizabeth spoke out loud.

"Because you're just as scared of your mother as I am" He teased.

"I am not," She spoke somewhat convincingly.

"Please, go on"

Ilizabeth slapped the boy on his shoulder causing him to fake groan and pretend to be hurt. He twisted up his face, and held his hand out dramatically while inhumane sounds came from his mouth. Ilizabeth laughed at how stupid he looked, and enjoyed that he felt comfortable enough to do something as horrendous looking as whatever faces he was making now.

"Will you let me explain!" She huffed, still smiling.

"Yes, yes Princess. Do tell"

"I just don't like to upset her. There are plenty of other things in life that serve to bring my Mother Bri stress and displeasure, including my own brother from time to time. I just don't like to be one of those stress factors for her" Ilizabeth spoke honestly.

"It seems like you have a good heart, Ilizabeth"

"That's the first time I've ever heard you actually say my name" She smiled sheepishly.

"Don't get used to it, Princess"

Chapter Text

As soon as the light of the morning sun shined bright enough to burn through Sansa's eyelids, inevitably stirring her awake, she found herself spending an extra amount of time in the comfort of her own bed, far away from her duties as Queen. She laid on her back, stuck staring at the untouchable ceiling of their bedchamber. Her mind raced with the thought of a foreign land. As it had for the past fourteen years, only recently intensifying like a dormant virus finally surfacing to snuff her lights out.

After using all of her time and energy making sure her wife didn't kill Jon or the children, she found herself exhausted. Exhausted from being the only one to stretch herself thinner than paper just to keep things together, from pretending like her daughter going beyond the Northern territory didn't rattle her to her core, all for the sake of her spouse.

The big blonde lug began to toss and turn. She kicked off the thick wool that covered their legs, stirring awake as it slid slowly to the ground. Her eyes fluttered open, and blinked until the beautiful being in front of her turned crystal clear.

"Hi," Brienne groaned in a tired, raspy voice.

"Good morning, my love," Sansa replied.

Sansa changed the tone of her voice to something more chipper, something that would elude her wife to believe there wasn't a thing on her mind.

"What's on your mind?" Brienne sat up whilst motioning for Sansa to cuddle into her.

Sansa cursed herself internally. She was a terrible liar, and always has been. She shuffled against the sheets before lifting herself up right and scooting backwards. Brienne rose her arm above her head waiting for Sansa to rest her head against her chest before putting it back down. She squeezed Sansa tightly, trying to warm her body up after a chill ran through her spine.

"Ily" Sansa spoke sadly. She took the larger hand into hers and began poking at the blue protruding veins.

"You're worried about her going beyond the Northern line?" Brienne questioned, sounding surprised. "I thought you supported the idea"

"With you and Jon constantly at each other's throats, I figured I needed to be a voice of reason first. And a concerned mother second" Sansa admitted.

The silence took over, as Brienne began to contemplate her past behavior, something she'd been forced to do a lot lately. She knew her anger had been out of control lately, yet she couldn't control it. As much as she tried to blame Jon, she knew her daughter was leaving regardless of what anyone had to say, whether that be in consequence of sending her or not, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She was scared, and her hands were tied. What does a ferociously terrified caged animal do when anyone gets too close to it, even if they're only fixing to free it? They attack.

She apologized to her wife for what seemed like the tenth time in the last few weeks. To which Sansa replied by turning to give her wife a forgiving kiss. She pecked at the blonde's thin lips a few times, then she planted a final one that lasted longer than all the others.

"Enough of that, are you prepared for your lesson with Ily today?" Sansa grinned excitedly.

The time had come to teach their daughter to fight. Although she'd have Jon and whatever unruly members of the freefolk that somehow miraculously managed to persevere their strength whilst starving, they weren't always going to be there for her. It only took one incident, one that would cause the group to split, leaving their daughter helpless and alone as the creatures pounced on her. The only way to ensure that didn't happen, was to put a sword in the girl's hand.

"Remember to practice patience and . . . reflective criticism" Sansa added gently

"Am I really that awful?" Brienne asked, while raising her brows with a smile.

"What do you mean?"

"You always do that. You'll remind me how to behave accordingly, as if I don't already?"  Brienne replied.

"Bri, you know I think your assertiveness is one of the most riveting things about you. But sometimes you can be a little short and dismissive with others" Sansa spoke kindly.

"Was I always like this?" Brienne questioned.

She removed herself from the close proximity of Sansa, now sitting with her bare feet against the floor. Brienne watched her pale stumpy toes wiggle in reaction to the cold stone as she recalled this nature in her younger years, when she felt she had something to prove to the other men. It was something she thought she was past, especially in being the Lord Commander of the Queensguard. It didn't get much better than this, for any man or woman. Yet she still found herself back in that place.

"In some ways, yes. But that's exactly why I fell in love with you. You've always been so determined, and protective, and passionate. Then we had children, and ever since then you've become this. . . " Sansa spoke seductively. "Alluring, wonderfully dominant, woman"

Sansa's knees pressed two dents into the mattress as she waddled behind her wife. She wrapped her arms over Brienne's broad muscular shoulders, allowing for hands to roam wherever they pleased. Brienne tilted her head to the left, exposing her pale neck to her wife in the hopes that she would kiss her favorite spot.

Brienne closed her eyes imagining all the events that typically followed after, as Sansa's plush lips planted kisses in a line, all up and down her neck. The redhead's hand somehow found its way under the loosely fitted linen top Brienne wore to bed, now toying with the erect nubs she so desperately wanted to see. Eventually, Brienne turned back around, now slowly climbing on top of Sansa as they lay on the bed.

"Hey, I wanted to go first," Sansa pouted.

"Alright" Brienne huffed, now rolling to her back.

Both of the women undressed completely, not wasting another second before pouncing on one another. Sansa's gown hung from the back of the leather chair sat by the window, while Brienne's shirt was flung by the door, and her pants tossed dangerously close to the crackling fireplace. It wasn't often they were granted extra time to sleep in, and certainly not enough time to do this.

The blonde moaned loudly every time her wife brought her over the edge. The bed rocked back and forth, causing the empty to glass to inch off the edge of the table, and shatter into a million pieces. They were sure someone had to hear them, but truthfully they didn't care. They enjoyed each other's touch too much.

It was only a matter of time before Sansa flipped to her backside, spreading her legs for a tall blonde who knew exactly where and when to hold her tongue. Sansa shut her eyes so tight she was beginning to see stars. She grabbed a handful of her wife's hair, pushing her face further into her center as she grew closer to the edge of the cliff. Then she jumped, floating downwards blissfully until she hit the sea.

Brienne grinned widely as she watched her naked wife squirm in the aftermath of an orgasm. She left the room for a moment, going into the next one over to draw up a tub of lavender oil and bath water. The two would both need to soak and wash away the sticky sexual must left on their bodies before stepping outside of their chamber. The blonde climbed in first being that she was bigger and took up more room. Then Sansa joined, resting between the lengthy legs of her wife.

The rest of their morning was as blissful as a child dreaming of toys and sweets. The women took turns washing each other off in the tub. Brienne ran the warm rag across her wife's back, no longer acknowledging the scars that had almost faded away completely, like the man who gave them to her. She began to kiss the girls backside, starting the same activities that went on in their bedchambers, in the tub now.

A few more cries of ecstasy slipped from the door of their room before they finally climbed out. They dried together, lathered oils together, and finally dressed together. Everything done in unity like they swore to the night of their wedding.

"Where are Lena and Maedalyn?" Brienne asked, wondering why her wife had dressed herself.

"I asked them not to come this morning," Sansa smirked

"You sneaky seductive woman" Brienne laughed whilst slipping into her boots.

"Well, I really needed that and It seemed like you did too" Sansa flirted.

"Yeah, I think I might actually need a little more," Brienne said, standing up to smack Sansa's butt.

"If both Ily and Rickon give me good reports of your behavior today. I will make sure you get everything you so rightfully deserve" Sansa spoke now, draping her arms around Brienne.

Brienne let out a throaty laugh before pecking her wife on the lips once more. She turned to grab her helmet and weapon belt then opened the door while mumbling under her breath. 

"Good report," She scoffed sarcastically. "What a pair of little shits"

After Queen Sansa finished tying the component of her gown into one stunning look, she made her way towards the meeting chambers. The Queensguard waited at the bottom of her tower, following behind their Queen loyally as she began to walk. She hoped to handle everything swiftly that way she'd have the chance to check in on Ilizabeth and Brienne.

Just as she arrived outside the door, she stopped to instruct Ser Bael, Bjorn, and Craig to man the door, while Ser Galvin, Mathew and Tiberius would accompany her inside. The old wooden door creaked open, revealing a dark silhouette sitting with its back turned. She jumped back while letting out a small shriek after noticing she wasn't alone. The men pushed in front of her, drawing their swords in reaction to the Queens shrieks.

The Hand, Lyanna Mormont, stood with her hands against the desk, slightly leaning over it whilst reading the print on an unraveled scroll. Her expression remained the same, unphased and uninterested as her eyes fell upon the swords of the men threatening her. They returned their swords to their sheaths simultaneously, before turning to their designated spaces.

"Seven hells! What are you doing here so early? Sansa asked.

"You're actually later than you usually are, Your Grace" She responded now looking back down at the scroll. "But we have more important things to discuss."

Sansa moved to her seat behind the desk watching as Lyanna turned the paper to her point of view. The Queen looked at the letter immediately noticing that it was addressed to Brienne, still she continued before turning back to Lyanna.

"Does this mean you're leaving the North?" She asked.

A small wave of shock brushed over the Queen as she read the inky print stating that her wife's father had passed away peacefully in his sleep. Lord Sibil Tarth was the new Lord of Tarth, and wished for Brienne to return home briefly and attend their fathers send off.

Sansa sighed while reading over the man's words again. She hated whenever Brienne had to leave her side, she felt every single agonizing second of it. Her mind never seemed to settle on anything apart from when her love would return.

Still, there were other people to think of here. What if Brienne took the children with her, that way they could finally meet their aunt and uncle. Although Brienne was a Stark now, they were still her family, and family was important to them all.

"No, I won't be going. But I'll have her bring the children. Send for one of the servant boys, tell him to pack bags for the Queen and the children." Sansa responded. "And have a raven sent to Whiet Harbor to ready their ship, I'll write the words now"

"At once, Your Grace" She bowed before exiting the room.

While Lyanna moved to the commands of the Queen. Brienne and Ilizabeth practiced in the private quarters of the courtyard, where those came to spar one on one. Just like the Queen, Brienne had a sword made for Ilizabeth. She hoped that this one would actually be put to use being that Sansa abandoned sword fighting forever after discovering she was pregnant.

Ilizabeth wore pants and a top feeling as awkward as her mother did when she wore them. The only time she wasn't in a dress of some sort was when she slept, and even then she mainly wore nightgowns. Maedalyn braided her platinum blonde hair into the one thick fishtail that slapped against her backside everytime she struck and dodged her mother's sword. Brienne taught the girl about proper posture, footwork, and guarding. She picked up quite fast, almost as if she was born to have a sword in her hand.

"Look up, my love" Brienne said moving forward while gently striking at the girl.

"How am I supposed to see where I'm going?" She spoke, still glancing at the ground.

"Your eyesight is wide, learn to look beyond just your opponent" Brienne progressed.

Ilizabeth did as her mother told, almost immediately tripping over the edge of the barrel. She stumbled backwards for a bit, her arms flailing as she tried to catch her balance before inevitably hitting the ground with a hard loud thud.

The snow had melted completely, leaving the ground tick and muddy. Both her hands and bottom were now covered with muck. Her face twisted up as she let out an extended groan in sight of her ruined outfit. Then she let out a sudden gasp before her eyes grew wide in realization.

"Did it get in my hair?" She turned to show her mother.

"No, my love," Brienne chuckled softly. "But that is unimportant, you must stay focused"

"Ugh, how does one remain elegant and poised when fighting?" She whined. "It's impossible"

"Are you saying I don't look elegant when I fight?" Brienne jokes.

"Not at all," Ilizabeth laughed. Her face began to turn red as it went on for a minute.

"Ha ha ha" She mocked her daughter. "I must be appealing in some way. How do you think I was able to get someone as beautiful as your mother"

"Yes, it's much more attractive when someone dominant and protective is fighting for you," Illizabeth replied.

"Listen to me when I say this Ilizabeth" Brienne grew serious. "You must be that person when you hold a sword. Take charge of the fight, be protective of yourself and the ones you love."

"Alright, mother. I hear you. Let's go again" Ilizabeth nodded before preparing to work on moving again.

It was hard for the girl to abandon her highborn ladylike ways, she knew nothing apart from being a highborn Princess who was adored by all and protected by the strongest. But whatever waited for them beyond the Northern line, in a place no one had ever been, wouldn't recognize that. They'd just see a little girl and she had to make sure she was more than that.

As the clashing swords rippled through the castle, Rickon began to follow it. He knew his sister was supposed to be starting her lessons today but the time he spent with Ser Malson began to take up a decent portion of his day. He was one of the youngest knights in Winterfell currently. Despite having never fought in an actual war, his swordsmanship was more than decent, which is why Rickon picked him. His hair was blonde, and buzzed, his legs were just as long as Rickons, and his demeanor was friendly.

Everything about the man was pretty normal, except for the way his mouth moved he talked. When he was a little boy he suffered an episode that messed him up pretty badly. His mother told him the story once he was old enough, about how he shook vigorously, as his eyes rolled back and foam spilled from his mouth. It took him a while to relearn to walk, speak, bathe, hell he couldn't even wipe his own ass for some time.

He made a full recovery, for the most part. The right side of his face was paralyzed completely. While the left side changed in expression, the right drooped over like spilled pudding. His words would sometimes come out muffled and conjoined, occasionally making it hard to understand, but for the most part Rickon understood.

Rickon left his first day as a squire feeling burned out physically, despite nevering holding a sword once. It was clear the highborn prince was unsure that a squire was basically a servant until they deemed you worthy enough to train. He wasn't used to that, and the concept frustrated him dearly. With every command the man barked at him, the more he imagined himself simply walking away.

After the knight finally dismissed him for the day, he immediately went to look for his mother and sister. Rickon peeked his head around the corner of the wall, watching the pair quietly. He was surprised to see how well his sister was doing on her first day of training. It almost looked as if the girl had held a sword in her hand before.

The green eyed monster came to visit. Another reason for everyone to love Ilizabeth and not him. He hated feeling this way, but he didn't know what else to say. It seemed like his sister was the golden child, and he was nothing more than a thorn in their side.The boy grew so consumed by his thoughts that he didn't even realize he'd been spotted.

"Rickon, how was your day with Ser Malson?" Brienne asked whilst resting on a crate that sat by the wall.

"Awful, I did nothing but follow orders all day" He scoffed, joining his mother on the adjacent crate.

She snickered at the tones of her pampered children. First it was Ilizabeth worrying about getting mud in hair whilst fighting, next it was Rickon complaining about doing the second thing that knights do best. She figured what was a knight without orders, what was a sword used for if there was no command. But the boy wasn't commanded by anyone else in North, except his Mothers and occasionally Ilizabeth.

"That's what knights are supposed to do" She grabbed his head and kissed it quickly.

"Speaking of first days, when is your first day with Gabrin?" Ilizabeth tried to slip the question in slyly.

Brienne looked to her daughter who looked away innocently. She shook her head at the girls developing infatuation for the young man. The Lord Commander always knew that one day she'd have to give her daughter away, likely to a spoiled highborn boy, but she didn't think the idea of it would come so soon. Although the two seemed nowhere near that point, she of all people understood how quickly that could change.

"You're too young, Ilizabeth" Brienne reminded her.

"So when won't I be too young?" She rolled her eyes.

"Maybe when you return from the Land of Always Winter" Brienne replied.

"That could take years," Ilizabeth scoffed.

"Well then you'd better hurry up." She joked. "Rick, did you see your sister, she's a natural."

"Yeah" He replied sourly.

"What's the matter?" Brienne asked.

"He's jealous that I'm already better than him and it's only my first day"  Ilizabeth teased.

"You are not!" He grew angry.

"Prove it" She provoked him.

Rickon stood from the crate immediately drawing the sword he'd been carrying eagerly all day. His fingers twitched at the feel of the handle in his hand. He began to approach his sister slowly, moving them to the middle of the grounds whilst she drew her sword too.

"Ily, this isn't a good idea. Your brother has been training for years now" Brienne tried to protest it.

"You said it yourself, mother. I'm a natural" She smirked.

Ilizabeth lowered her eyes at her brother, and he did the same to her. They struck simultaneously, both incredibly desperate to prove something to their mother. The metal echoed through the walls and they pulled apart ready to attack again. At first Rickon fought lazily, expecting to get within striking vicinity a lot earlier in the fight. But Ilizabeth held out, ducking and dodging his swings swiftly.

Brienne couldn't believe her daughter was doing so well, she too had thought maybe the girl had held a sword before. Rickon grew louder and louder with every strike, now allowing for his anger to take control which of course made him messy. His last strike came down hard missing the left side of the girl, now leaving his right completely open. Ilizabeth stuck the tip of her sword right before the boy's neck. She froze, allowing for herself to take a few deep breaths before putting her sword away.

"You're a liar! You've been secretly fighting haven't you" He shouted.

"Rickon, enough" Brienne intervened. She couldn't understand why he was so angry.

"What a pleasant surpise, you take Ilizabeth's side once again" He rolled his eyes.

Brienne wanted to correct the boy for speaking to her in that tone. But the sweet gentle melodic voice of her wife played in the back of her mind. Remember to practice patience. As much as she hated to admit that her wife was right from time to time, this wasn't going to be one of them. Brienne thought for a second, really taking the time to hear the words that came from her son.

"Come sit, boy," Brienne sighed. "Ily, great job for today. Now leave your brother and I alone to talk and make sure you put your things in a place where you can find them."

Ilizabeth did as her mother commanded, spinning on her heels as she turned to exit the area. Brienne looked at her son who sat leaned over with his chin in his right hand. He kicked her feet up against the dirt and rocks of the ground viciously grunting as he let out some of his frustration. She placed a hand on the back of his head, gently stroking the long bright auburn hair to the end.

"You know, I've always loved your hair." Brienne smiled. "It's so beautiful"

There that word was again, his favorite word in all of the realm. His mother knew that would cheer him up, for reasons she always thought but never said out loud.

"You actually inspired me to have long hair again," She added.

The boy was slightly stunned, he never thought he could inspire anyone to do anything. It seemed like he was always in need of a push of inspiration.

"What, how?"

"Well I had short hair for most of my life. Not because I necessarily preferred it that way, it was just easier to keep from comparing myself to other skilled swordsman if I looked more like them." She explained.

"So I kept it short for many years despite not really feeling like myself. Until one day I overheard you telling your mother that you wanted to stop your haircuts, because long hair made you feel beautiful. I realized I felt the same way, and I hadn't really felt beautiful . . . ever in my life."

A small smile grew on Rickons face as he felt proud of his mothers words. He thought back to his younger years, recalling distant memories where was unapologetically himself. That was when his world was no bigger than his mothers' and sisters'. Somehow in the midst of adding all of these men, he grew more distant from who he really was, and he hated it. The only thing that helped him feel somewhat normal was having long hair.

"The point is that I don't want you to ever compare, or change yourself for anyone else. Not even Ilizabeth. You both are so incredible and beautiful and smart and full of such great potential" Brienne smiled at her son.

"Thank you, mother," Rickon hugged his mom.

He wanted to tell his mother more about how he had been feeling but his voice still lingered in the darkness, cowering behind the shadows of those who died for engaging in the deviant activities he had. Brienne could tell the boy was fighting with something, and a part of her already knew what it was, but she decided to let him get out with it on his own agenda.

Ilizabeth returned to the sparring corridor with their other mother and a chest. The Queen smiled slightly as she caught a glimpse of her wife and son hugging before they broke it up. As happy as the sight of the two made her, she still had to deliver the bad news.

"Why do you have that?" Rickon asked, pointing to the chest.

"Because we're going to Tarth," Ily replied excitedly.

Chapter Text

The crew from Winterfell sailed down the Narrow Sea alone, barely passing other ships on the journey. Ghostly whispers fogged from the mouths of the Westerosi who died here. Their cries and prayers sat on the surface, allowing for the rippling, rocking nature caused by the ships parting of the sea to take them wherever.

As Ilizabeth stunningly watched the horizon begin to peak over the edge of the world, providing a little bit of color and light against the crystal sea, she grew all the more curious about what the rest of Westeros was truly like. Both her and Rickon had never left the North before, they'd barely even been outside of Winterfell. But today dawned a new day, a day filled with new experiences and new people.

The ship was set to arrive within a few hours, meaning they could finally see the lumpings rocks of the isle from the deck. Brienne's feet thumped loudly against the aged rickety wooden planks that held the floor together. She was fully dressed in her armor which added a few extra pounds to her already high body weight.

The children sat below the desk snickering about how the sound of her footsteps was instantly recognizable, the way they'd bellow so violently used to startle the twins when they were babes. As their mother would walk up the steps of the castle or the crypts, the twins' imagination would run rampant. They'd curate stories of a sugar monster finally coming after them for sneaking sweets onto their palettes without finishing their supper.

In four final powerful stomps, Brienne, with a burning candle in hand, finally arrived at the lower deck where her children slept. The lower deck was made for the comfort of the captain, but being that the crew was in the presence of the royal family, the twins were allowed to choose where they wanted to stay.

When they first boarded the ship in White Harbor, they refused to leave the deck for the first few days. They'd hang their heads over the deck and stare down at the water crashing against the sides of it. It was the little things that seemed to impress them, the constant echoing roar of the tide rising and falling, the way they could taste the salt without taking a single accidental sip from the sea, even the way it seemed to shake some of the crew despite having spent their entire lives practically at sea. .

The children had never seen so much water in one place, and when it pooled together, it became the richest shade of blue they'd ever seen. Eventually their stomachs grew irritable.Unused to all the rising falling motions of the ship traveling against the current, they decided to find a place on the lower desk, that way they wouldn't feel it as much.

"We're set to arrive within first sight of the full sun," Brienne informed the kids.

Ilizabeth tossed around in a netted hammock that was bolted to the ceiling, with a small white blanket thrown over her in the back east end of the room. Due to all the motion, the girl had difficulties staying asleep, so she remained in bed, bored out of her mind, twirling a few blonde strands around her fingers. Whilst Rickon sat at the desk pushed up against one of the six wooden columns posted from floor to ceiling. A tall thin goldenrod colored candle burned directly next to the boy, shedding restless light on the pages he was reading.

"Finally" Ilizabeth huffed.

The Lord Commander found herself crouching at certain parts of the room, hoping to avoid the over-extended wood that hung dangerously close to her head. She grabbed an old wooden chair from the west corner, pulling it away from the cobweb that wished to engulf it permanently before setting it in the middle of the room. She swept across the seat, before sitting down gently. The way it seemed to lean gave Brienne a bit of a scare, but still it supported her.

"What are you reading?" Brienne asked her boy.

"A journal about a pirates' journey across various seas, I found it in the captain's room" He replied, barely glancing up from the pages.

"Any good stories?"

"Actually yeah, this one was about a man sailing to Essos, and on his way he was attacked by something called the Stone Men. It says they hissed at him, and had skin like dragons" He looked to his mother curiously. "Is this real?"

Although Brienne had never seen any that was seriously afflicted with greyscale she was reminded of the time her father oversaw one of the servant boys' departures. The late Lord remained unaware of how the boy was afflicted, all he cared about was getting him off the island before he had the chance to take the whole castle out.

Brienne hid underneath the only table in her fathers meeting chamber with a tablecloth, and listened as her father decided his fate so mercilessly. The tiny framed, doughy skinned boy cried and pleaded, but he wound up where almost every commoner with grayscale did.

"The Stone Men are people with severe cases of Greyscale. It's a highly contagious disease that turns one's skin into these murky looking scales. Used to be once someone caught it, they were immediately exiled in fear of infecting the whole city. So they'd live out the rest of their years in the ruins of Essos and wait for sailors to afflict with their disease as they die slow and painful deaths" Brienne explained.

The children's mouths hung low, open, and silent in awe of how easily their mother told such a dark and heartless truth. She often forgot what an interesting place Westeros was less than two decades ago, and how her children really knew nothing apart from it.

"Really?" Ilizabeth now sat up in her hammock. She was always intrigued by the stories her mom told. "Did you ever meet any pirates?"

"I believe so, once when I was a little girl"

Both of the kids' ears perked up, now listening like wolves keenly. They stared at her with an intense intrigue plastered onto their pale faces. Brienne wasn't expecting her children to want for her to continue, but their impatient silence said enough.

"Oh well, being raised on an Island made keeping secrets a lot easier. Although we have always been a part of the seven, now six kingdoms, we're completely isolated. For the most part those who were born on the isle stayed, never crossing to the mainland once. Which made getting away with crimes outlawed by the King a lot easier if you were at the right parts of the island." Brienne began to explain.

"One day I went down to the docks, I can't remember who I was with but I recall seeing the ship arriving from my room in the castle. I rushed down the stairs and hid behind a pile of tall stacked crates, while listening to the townspeople converse with a man."

Brienne found the words slipping from her mouth. Afterall a story was just a retelling of a memory, and why tell a story if they could all see it happening. Rickon's sight took over, now displaying a younger, smaller version of his mother hiding behind the crates she had just referred to. He looked at his sister and mother startled by the sudden change of reality, and the stare they gave back held the same expression.

They were all on the dock, standing against the splotchy painted wooden planks that seemed to be losing its hue from the it's time spent under the burning sun. The waves crashed up against the jagged moss covered rocks, whipping faint droplets against their skin as they watched their mother and the girl arrive at the dock.

Young Brienne crouched down carefully as she held her arm over the smaller girl with her. They crumbled the skirt of their gowns into their fists, tugging on the train harshly so the trains would remain with them, out of sight. Their blonde hair glistened in the sun, and tossed in the breeze, the same way Ilizabeth's did.

A man with rich umber skin waltzed from the deck of his ship,  His hair was more like Missandei's, resembling a dark sponge of some sort. Everytime he opened his mouth to gloat about all the gold he'd received robbing Westerosi guards sent to Essos on the King's order, he'd reveal a mouth full of missing teeth. He walked with another man of the same complexion, stature, and hair style, only his clothes were not as proper, and his mouth was full of teeth.

"If you ask me for your cut once more, I will cut your balls off before I cut your throat" Said the toothless man.

The twins kept their eyes peeled and grins wide as they watched the men move through the dock, while their mother became distracted with something else. Of course, she was in awe of being back here in the first place, but the unknown identity of the little girl she saw her younger self with troubled her. So much that she now found herself kneeling so close to the pair that a single breath would alert them of a phantom presence.

Just as her eyes connected with the girls, she pulled back quickly. Brienne stumbled backwards on the dock, inching towards the edge, when suddenly the three were snapped back into reality. Back in their places in the captain's cabin.

"What was that?" Ilizabeth asked, her eyes shifting back and forth widely.

"You saw it too." Rickon paused. "I told you! I've been seeing things. I saw Grandfather and Grandmother in the Godswood on our nameday. I'm sure it was them!"

"I've never seen anyone with skin so dark, it was beautiful!" Ilizabeth continued still in awe.

"Mother, did you see it too?" Rickon turned to the woman.

Brienne sat back in her chair, staring into nothingness. Her gaze remained on the cobwebbed bookshelf in the opposite corner, but the darkening wideness of her pupils suggested she was off somewhere else, perhaps still in the vision. The children paused, feeling somewhat inclined to wait until she resurfaced herself. But her eyes began to glisten. Small ripples casted over them, until she blinked, sending a few thin wiggle streams down her pale cheeks.

"Mother?" Ilizabeth called, snapping her out of the memory.

"Hm?" Brienne looked up, now slightly wiping her eyes,

"What were you just thinking of?" Ilizabeth asked while bringing her knees to her chest.

"Your Aunt Ilizabeth. That's who I was with that day."

She recalled how the little girl begged and pleaded for Brienne to bring her along when she snuck down to the doc, and of course being that the girl was only six years old at the time, in order to move quickly she had to carry her. Brienne can still remember the little blue gown she wore, the scratchy feel of the white tulle woven in with its contrast, silk. How its shade gleamed under the ball of fire in the sky.

Rickon looked over his shoulder giving his sister a slightly worried look before turning back to their mother. Brienne never could manage to muster up the strength to tell the children about what happened to Aunt Ilizabeth, the thought of rehashing that night brutalized her, leaving her unable to access most memories involving the girl.

It was Sansa who finally sat them down and explained everything after their looming curiosity sent Brienne to a distant place. They instantly felt a need to change the energy into the room, as they typically did, until Brienne began to continue.

"You had a dress just like that one, Ily. You may have been a few years smaller than her, when your mother made it." Brienne smiled. "God, you look just like her"

"Really?" Ilizabeth grinned. "Hearing that makes me happy"

"Me too, my love" Brienne sighed. A brief moment of silence passed before the dark stormy clouds that formed over Brienne began to part. Her mind was clear, which allowed the reality of her son's visions to finally dawn on her.

"What else have you seen, Rickon?" She questioned curiously.

"That's the second time it's ever happened." He replied.

"I was wrong to tell you to keep it a secret from your mother and I'm sorry for being harsh" Brienne struggled to find the right words once again.

"It's alright, you thought it was for the best"

"We'll tell her as soon as we arrive back home, together," Brienne nodded.

The Lord Commander figured she'd leave the kids alone and try to catch some rest before arriving. Between the constant cracking of the wooden planks, and the nerves inching through her gut as they sailed closer and closer to her original home, she also had barely slept. Rickon whipped his attention back into the book, eager to reread the journal entry about the Stonemen in Essos. While Ilizabeth laid with something more on her conscience.

"How do you seem more relaxed than I?" Ilizabeth huffed.

"What's there to be nervous about?" He chuckled, eyes still glued to the book.

"Well let's see, mother didn't just leave home the first time, she fled . . . from the man's send off we're about to attend. There's also the fact that our mother is married to another woman and the only place where that is somewhat condoned is home. And to add to it, we were born from blood magic" Ilizabeth tone grew as she moved through the list.

Rickon's evergrowing curls whipped over his shoulder perfectly as he turned facing the back of the room. His eyes squinted whilst looking at Ilizabeth, as if the answer to where all this was coming from was written somewhere on her forehead.

"You're forgetting that our Uncle Brandon is the King in the South. We are taken care of practically everywhere we go," Rickon gloated in sudden realization of this fact.

"And you're forgetting the part where mother just told us that Tarth is borderline lawless land. For all we know we could be taken by pirates" Ilizabeth exclaimed.

"Wow, I don't think I've ever seen you this frazzled over anything."

Rickon threw his elbow against the top bar of the wooden chair, now resting his chin on his fist as he watched Ilizabeth freak out in pure amusement. She went quiet eventually, now clearly racking her brain for more things to worry over. He did his best to assure her that her worries were smaller than she imagined and if anything did happen they were still safe because their mother was there, and she would never let anything bad happen to them.

Ilizabeth inevitably laid back in her hammock, finally allowing her brother's words to settle the nerves residing within her. He turned back around and continued with his reading. The boy read as much of the journal as he could before his eyelids grew heavily. Somehow the violent rocking became soothing, reminding her of his forgotten times in his mothers arms .He tried to fight the weight of them closing enough but even he gave in, now collapsed over the open journal drooling.

After a few hours spent sleeping underneath the rising sun, the children were startled awake by the crew above shouting of their arrival. Rickon and Ilizabeth's heads popped up, exchanging an excited look before scrambling to their feet. Ilizabeth came down from the hammock leaving a loud thud to linger in the hollow wooden room. They both quickly slipped into their shoes before rushing up the stairs to the deck.

As the children turned the corner their cavernous eyes glued to the massively vibrant fern green hills of the island. Its entire civilization was built perched above the water, on one massive piece of land with at least three different terrains. The center of the island held the castle their mother grew up in. It sat high and proper, perfect like a pearl inside a clam. Their heads traveled upwards along the side of the castle until they stopped at the highest point of the roofing. From where they stood it looked as if it was actually touching the sky.

Finally the ship stopped moving, docking near one of the many ports placed around the island. This port remained unfamiliar to them, and had a straight easy shot up the stairwell that led to the castle doors. The children groaned at the sight of how much they'd have to walk just to get there. Brienne appeared from her room on the ship, joining her kids as their mouths still laid open in shock.

"It's breathtaking isn't it?"

"It makes our home look like shit" Rickon said.

"Watch your tongue, boy" Brienne furrowed her eyebrows at her son before smiling. "It does, doesn't it?"

Brienne ordered for a few of the accompanying knights to carry the children's chests, whilst grabbing her own. One of the knights offered to take hers too, insisting that a Queen should never have to carry her own bags, still she refused. As they walked to the edge of the now lowered walling of the ship where they were set to walk, a more adultlike version of her family appeared. She paused for a moment, allowing her mind to reprocess her perception of them.

Rilley stood taller than the last, placing the top of her head somewhere between the two Queens. She was accompanied by two children, both younger than the twins, and a young man, who stood at the same height, covered in the easily recognizable blacksmith soot of Tarth. A man she'd never seen before but still knew through the endless stories told by her sisters'.

Next to them stood a man almost unfamiliar to her. The last she saw the boy he was so small, and his dark was several shades lighter. Her brother Sibill stood taller than a mountain, his floppy chestnut hair fell across his forehead in a swoop, and one of his elongated arms wrapped around a younger blonde woman who held a very adorably dressed babe in her arms.

The children were the first to step off the deck while Brienne followed closely behind them. Her movements were fluid yet somewhat skeptical, resembling the maternal primal instinct of animals. They stopped directly in front of the other half of their family for a moment, all exchanging unnervingly silent looks at each other.

"Seven hells." Rilley cursed in awe. "You look just like her"

Ilizabeth looked away shyly as the unfamiliar family members stare began to bring her slight discomfort. While Rickon glanced back and forth between his aunt and uncle admiring the impressively lofty stature of his mothers side. Rilley stood just under six feet whilst Sibil soared over that number. If anything he was probably a lot closer to seven. He may have just been the tallest man in all of Westeros history.

"It's good to see you all" Sibil spoke in a deep yet friendly voice. He moved to the twins, now towering over them. "I'm your Uncle Sibil"

The twins took turns pulling the overwhelming large and solid stature into an awkward embrace.

"This is my wife Lady Ceria Tarth, and this is our son Selwyn"

He smiled greatly whilst rubbing his hands together, looking around. The man settled letting out a sigh before realizing he forgot to greet his sister. He allowed for the passing knight to unload the ship, laughing nervously at the amount of people they traveled with.

The Starks tried not to gawk at the man, but his abruptly rapid movements clung to their attention. He was oddly energetic, his hands moved a lot, and his mouth seemed to be forming words but nothing above the levels of a whisper only heard by himself. The forces of the world pulled down against his posture, causing a forbidden yet nature slouch to form in the posture of the new lord.

"Wow, the Queen has a lot of people protecting her," He joked, now running his fingers across the back of his neck. "It's great to see you, feels like we're meeting for the first time."

"We are in a way," Brienne replied, looking at him with a raised brow.

"I remember standing on the shore with father, watching you and the Queen sail away when I was just a little lad" He paused. "How is the Queen of the North"

Although his nature intrigued Brienne in an unsettling way, she was still glad to see that the new Lord of Tarth seemed to be much more pleasant than her father wound up being. He wrapped his arms around her awkwardly and pulled her into a tight hug before standing back and taking in the sight of her one more time.

Brienne's position felt unnatural as she found herself having to look up at someone. She was in fact used to the opposite, so much that she had developed a subtle crook in her neck from constantly interacting with average sized people.

"I'm sorry, that was rude of me. It's just startling to see that face again" Rilley smiled while pulling her niece into a hug. Then she turned her attention to Rickon.

"And look at your hair, just as beautiful as your mothers" She stroked it gently, now pulling him into a hug as well.

"It's alright, you're not the first person to mention it" She smiled. "I'm Ilizabeth and that's Rickon"

"Oh I know, I was there the night you were born" She replied.

"Oh, I forgot about that." Ilizabeth felt bad for bringing it up.

"Well as you know, I'm your Aunt Rilley the best Aunt you'll ever have. This is my husband Jon Willum, and these are our children. Fredrick and Rheine"

Both of the children were born brown of hair, just like their parents. They didn't exactly scream Tarth based on their appearance. Apart from the dark hair the younger siblings seemed to develop, their clothes didn't resemble anything of a highborn. Instead, they were dressed in worn down leather and scuffed rag like linens, like their father.

Brienne chucked it off to Rilley's lifelong desire to be more like the smallfolk. Similar to herself, her sister was never too consumed with marrying another highborn, she'd prefer a more genuine love than an arranged one. Although she did enjoy the life of being a Lord's daughter, she wasn't exactly lady-like, something that seemingly ran in their family.

"How old are you?" Rheine asked, looking between them.

"We're twins. We both have fourteen years" Rickon answered. "What about you?"

"I have eleven, my brother only seven" She smiled shyly.

"Is your father still on board?" Frederick asked, poking his neck out to look at the now closed boarding plank of the ship.

They stood frozen and inelegantly as soon as the question was asked. Ilizabeth turned to her brother, widening her eyes while saying "I told you so" without ever actually opening her mouth. A giggle slipped from the boy's lips, forcing out a noise very similar to flatulence. Now all of the children giggled.

"We don't have a father" He replied, with a lingering smile of laughter.

"Let your cousins settle in first before badgering them with questions" Rilley quickly changed the subject.

The group now made their way up the endless flight of the multi-stoned stairwell, except for Jon. Being that he worked as a blacksmith for the common people, it was important he returned to his stall before they lost customers. Rilley and her children waved to their father as he walked away, then turned back to face the flight of doom.

Ilizabeth and Rickon continued to look around, having never seen this much color in one place before. The way the large tropical looking trees hung off the side of cliffs provided some shade for the villagers' homes. From where they stood, the homes sprawled across the city looked like tiny little figures used to display structures on a map. Finally after making the climbs of their lives, with their hearts practically pounding out of their chests they made it to the top.

Looking at the size of the castle up close made them feel slightly anxious. Sometimes being that close to something so big could cause one's imagination to take control of their rationality. The knights still powered through their exhaustion now following the knight of Tarth to the rooms where they could place the bags down.

The childrens heads remained on a swivel as they now entered the front entrance of the castle. Their mind took as many mental images as it could, never wanting to forget the blue water spewing from the fountain out front, or the large sandy stoned pillars holding it all together, or the vibrant moss green bushes that flickered hues of pink purple and blue throughout it.

"We won't be sending father off until the next sunrise. I have plenty of things I need to be doing, will you all be joining us for a family dinner later in the hall?" Sibil directed the question to Brienne.

"Of course, we'll be there," Brienne confirmed.

"Alright, welcome home sister" He spoke before turning away.

"I should go too, Selwyn will probably need feeding soon" She spoke politely. "It was nice finally meeting you all"

Rilley looked to the side of Brienne's large frame, watching as the new Lady Tarth walked away. Once she was gone Rilley turned her attention to Brienne. She threw her arms around her sister merrily for the second time. Being back here was hard, for both of them. It seemed every time they did have the chance to reconnect it somehow involved the death of someone in their family.

"I can't believe you have children, now" Brienne said looking at the two small children now pulling hers around the castle.

"I can't believe you have children at all" Rilley laughed feeling the same way. "How's the Queen doing?"

"She's good, things in Winterfell are quiet" Brienne lied. She didn't want to get into the details of the words from the woman in black, not now at least.

"That's good to hear"

"I see you got to marryJon" Brienne smirked.

"Yes, I did. And he is just wonderful. I honestly owe it all to you . . . and Ily. She's the one who introduced us" Rilley smiled thinking of her sister.

They stood continuing to talk as they watched their children interact with everything in the castle. Frederick and Rheine showed the twins a basket filled with bright fruits only grown on the isle. They both grabbed something different, immediately taking a big bite from it.

As their teeth plunged into the soft exterior of whatever they were eating, the juices from it began to drip down their chin. Rilleys children threw their heads back in a hysterical fit of laughter as they watched the twins jolt back in attempts to avoid dirtying their close.

"I don't know how you look at her everyday" Rilley spoke now stuck on the beauty of Ilizabeth. "She's beautiful"

"I know," Brienne sighed, admiring her kids. "They both are,

Chapter Text

The Queen's family was too far for comfort. So far that even if she did change her mind and journey to White Harbor, then sail out across the Narrow Sea and finally dock at Tarth, she wouldn't make it in time. Hell her ship would probably pass theirs as they made their way home.

Even knowing how much there was to be in Winterfell, she couldn't stop staring at the empty castle grounds where her wife and children passed multiple times a day. In every moment she didn't hear their words, or kiss the illuminating colored hairs on their head, she found herself holding her breath wondering if her last interaction with them would remain as such. It just seemed as if the Starks didn't have a good history going too far South and she didn't want anything to happen to anyone else.

As soon as Sansa found her way into the meeting chambers, the door opened and closed, entering another person. She assumed it was the Hand, causing her to take a quick glance at the woman. But she didn't have a beard, nor as much age on her face as the person Sansa just looked at. She looks back up, realizing it was Jon who now stood in front of her.

"What troubles you, sister? You look sad," Jon pointed out.

"Nothing, I just miss them, that's all" Sansa tried her best to shake it off.

Jon's expression drew back as he went into his mind searching for a feeling of relatability. The man didn't have a woman he loved nor children of his own, and in a way he was content with that. But seeing Sansa with her own family almost made Jon want to reconsider that decision. He never wanted to father children, simply because he didn't want them to carry on the bastard name. But if that has changed, he figured maybe his opinions could too.

Still after all his time spent protecting The North from what was to come of the Long Night, he decided to be done holding himself responsible for the lives of others. And a family wasn't any different.

"Is having a wife and kids of your own something you always saw for yourself?" Jon questioned.

"Well most Lady's including myself, saw a husband in their future" Sansa joked finally allowing to shake herself out of the slump a bit.

"Right, you know what I meant," Jon joked.

"But honestly yes. I've always wanted to marry someone who was gorgeous and sweet whilst still tough. And I wanted a big family, five kids at least," Sansa answered. "Why?"

"I was just wondering if it's all worth it"

"For the most part yes, but when they're little you'll find yourself questioning that a lot" She laughed. "I remember when the twins had maybe just under three years of age . . ."

Sansa looked to the wooden door, hoping someone would eventually come in and save her from the hell she was in. Brienne needed to hold an emergent meeting with the men of the Queensguard about a change in schedule rotation due to Ser Mathew injuring his ankle. Therefore she was too busy to help Sansa with the twins for at least another few hours, and her pride wouldn't let the wetnurses in for another minute. Rickon and Ilizabeth swiftly rushed around the room, both refusing to dress or settle in any manner.

"Rickon, please honey would you just-" Sansa chased after him.

Then she turned to see her daughter yanking on the cloth with an assortment of food and drinks on top. Just as Sansa reached out to stop the girl everything came clattering off the table. The chalice of wine shattered, splashing purplish liquid all over the small girl. Her platinum blonde food riddled hair was now stained with a shade of magenta. The girls turned to one another with an equal amount of shock on their faces, then the babe began to wail.

"Oh, Ily." Sansa picked the girl up immediately, bouncing her on her right hip. "It's alright honey."

As Sansa began picking the food out of the girl's hair, the door opened. Her eyes darted over to Rickon who was more than quick on his feet. She jolted forward in chase of the fleeing boy before noticing Brienne at the door. The Lord Commander stood tall looking around the room in wonder of how things went south so fast. Rickon's chubby pale bare legs waddled hastily towards his mother, whilst lifting his arms up. She took the boy into her embrace, feeling how cold his skin was.

"Were you giving your mother a hard time?" Brienne smiled while bouncing the boy.

"No" He cooed.

"I think you both were" Brienne moved to Sansa to boop the nose of the red eyed baby in her arms. "What happened here?"

"Ilizabeth yanked the table cloth off and everything came down on top of her" Sansa huffed now sitting on the bed. "She's going to need another bath"

Brienne finally got the boy to settle down, that way she could dress him in warmer clothing. His spotty pig colored tongue stuck out at Brienne with a smile. Whenever they'd change or dress him they'd make this face to try and keep him entertained. Now all the boy did was blow his tongue at people.

"Want me to take her?" Brienne asked snickering at her wife pulling cubed cheese out the girl's head.

"No it's alright" Sansa paused. "Wait, what are you doing here?"

"Well I actually just forgot the schedule and I remembered I wrote it down somewhere. But, it looks like hell here. Why haven't you called for Lena or Maedalyn?"

"Because they're our children" Sansa snapped.

She whipped her and Ilizabeth around to the washroom. Brienne wondered if that harsh attitude was directed at her or the situation. Sansa held Ily tightly as she leaned over the tub to redraw the bath water. Her hand splashed around lightly in the warm liquid, testing to see if it would be alright for Ilizabeth. The small child squirmed in her arms pleading to be released.

"No, Ily. You'll just run off again" Sansa spoke.

The girl threw her head back, causing Sansa to slightly flinch in fear of the girl spiraling backwards out of her arms. Her mouth opened widely, her eyes scrunched up and her pigment became flushed all before she let out a dramatic wail. Sansa grew incredibly frustrated in struggling to manage the children. Brienne opened the door allowing for Rickon to enter first.

"She's been extra fussy today," Brienne noticed.

Ilizabeth reached her arms out to Brienne. Now that Sansa had told her no, she decided she didn't want to be in her care anymore. Sansa willingly gave the girl to Brienne to which she almost instantly stopped crying. The toddler slipped her thumb into her mouth while resting her head on Brienne's shoulder, still making eye contact with Sansa.

"What did your mean mama do?"Brienne joked whilst rubbing the back of her daughter.

Sansa watched as her daughter allowed Brienne to do the same thing she did not too long ago. The quiet pitter patter against the water echoed through the lightly furnished wash room as Brienne pulled the now fresh and clean Ilizabeth back out of the bath. Just as Sansa exited the room briefly to retrieve Ilizabeth's towel, Rickon tossed himself in the bath fully clothed. He must've thought that if Ily was getting two then so was he, except he didn't remove anything. Brienne and Sansa whipped their heads around quickly after hearing the loud crashing of water against both the porcelain tub and the stone floor.

"Seven hells" Brienne couldn't contain her laughter.

"Ugh, I just have to remember to tell myself. That this will all be worth it when they're older" Sansa finally joins in laughing as she pulls her soaking wet son out of the tub.

The memory causes Jon to throw his head back and let out a contagious laugh. He wiped his teary eyes with the sleeve of his thin woolen doublet. Sansa was never able to forget how much trouble the twins would cause, and mostly still do. Although the kids have always been a handful, she's so grateful for the opportunity to raise them in the way she has.

"I imagine that is one of many hilarious stories you have about my niece and nephew, I'd love to hear more" Jon smiled.

Sansa nodded, her smile fading as her mind wandered to something else, something she'd wanted to address.

"Can I ask you something Jon?" She spoke sounding like her thirteen year old self. "Is it really that bad up North, I mean why do the Freefolk need my daughter so bad?"

With the looming, intensifying silence from Jon, Sansa began to feel some of her own fears build. She did everything she could to take her mind off the fact that the number of moon cycles left with her daughter were dwindling away. Her family not being here in Winterfell made accepting this ten times harder.

"The Night King spent many years building his army, Sansa and in doing so he killed so much life up there. Not just people either, I mean the trees, the animals, the crops, everything. Even before we killed them all, the freefolk were suffering. The more time that's passed the more they've been forced further and further south." Jon tried to explain.

Sansa didn't have the same relationship with the freefolk as her brother did, but that didn't mean she didn't have one at all. After appointing Lady Faran as the new head of the Dreadfort, she grew an attachment to her and a lot of their people. Although they no longer lived amongst the 'freefolk' they'd never shed that skin, and Sansa felt somewhat responsible for keeping their distant family safe.

"The Land of Always Winter is the furthest place out west in freefolk territory. Think about Sans, untouched by man." He enunciated. "It's got to be riddled with medicinal herbs, fruits, trees with strong wood . . . it could be everything for them"

"You're forgetting about the supposed dragon eggs" Sansa rolled her eyes.

"You know me, and you know that that is the last thing I care for. I just think if we can find them, they can help us map The Land of Always Winter a Northern, freefolk territory"

"Then why did you give my wife such a hard time about all this? Where was this heart when she was here?" Sansa was still angry with them both, but especially Jon.

Although she didn't misinterpret his words, she didn't care for the way he ignored Brienne's fear as a parent. Maybe being that the man wasn't a father, he just didn't understand. But in conversing about his fear of being responsible for others, Sansa figured he must've once upon a time.

"The Lord Commander had already made up her mind. She refused to hear a word from my mouth" Jon's eyebrows furrowed.

"Because Ilizabeth is her daughter, Jon. She will always have that right!" Sansa huffed.

His aged face went expressionless, clearly tired of being yelled at. The Queen immediately felt a small level of guilt, her goal was never to yell.

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way. But I want you to imagine this life for a moment. Like you, Brienne fought her whole life trying to prove to people that she was more than what they thought of her. The only difference is you didn't have to give up parts of yourself to do that. She spent years presenting as a man, forced to accept that the parts of womanhood she'd always been ashamed of wanting had to be forgotten, if she wanted to be a knight. She became one and was happy for a while. But then she was granted a chance to have it all, the knightship, the wife, the children, to which of course she's accepted. And in exchange, she was put back in a place of proving herself. To Winterfell, to the other castles, even to our own son at a point. Now she's busy proving herself to my brother. She's tired" Sansa explained softly.

"She doesn't have to prove herself to me, I know she's their mother." He protested.

"You undermined her in front of others Jon, in ways you would never do to me" Sansa paused. "It's not her decision? Calling her a mean old bastard in front of the children?" She repeated his words back to him.

"But it wasn't my intent to imply that it's not her decision because she didn't birth them, I just meant that the girl is a person with a mind of her own"

"You wouldn't have said it to me, Jon. Not like that"

The man went quiet, finally processing the truth behind Sansa's words. Although he does feel like what's happening with the freefolk is above them all, the girl was absolutely right. He would have never stepped on Sansa's toes the way he did with Brienne because he respected his sister more. Of course it was only simply because he didn't really know the woman, but regardless of why it existed, she was indeed put in positions of proving herself as someone with final say.

"You're right, I'm sorry" He spoke genuinely.

"I appreciate it, Jon. She's the one who should hear it next" She grinned softly at her brother for being understanding.

There was a brief moment of silence, before Jon decided to speak again.

"I bet Father would be really proud to see his little girl protected by someone as ferocious as Brienne. I still feel the spines of the books jabbing against my back after she threw me into the shelves." Jon laughed.

"I think he would too," She smiled. "And you deserved that,"

Chapter Text

Tarth was only quiet on days like today when the Gods of Nature expressed their grief throughout the isle. The usually chipper morning tune of the birds had ceased, the clouds turned grey as the rainy tears brewed inside them, and the winds blew harshly sending out cries through the whistles of the rustling tropical leaves.

The knights of the castle piled into the sept shortly after his immediate family lined up along the table where his cold, hardened, motionless body laid. His children stood clustered together on the left end, with the new Lord leading the line, and his grandchildren stood on the right. The Septa slicked her thin greying hair back as she approached them to say a few final words.

The twins stood over the body, feeling uneasy towards their first and final encounter with their grandfather. Ilizabeth remorsefully felt guilt riddle through her body as it naturally cringed in repellency. Her stomach knotted, and her mouth pooled with saliva at the sight of his deathly pale hue. She clenched her eyes shut as her body found itself leaning into her mother's side.

Meanwhile, her brother stared intensively. Aside from attempting to analyze and store the features of the deceased relative, he hoped to be taken back in time. That the Gods wished to show him something, just as it did in the Godswood and on the ship. His legs jittered impatiently and his fingers tapped sporadically against his thigh as he mumbled words of encouragement to himself. Still, nothing happened, nothing apart from an excruciatingly long service.

The final words of the Maester snapped Brienne from the haze of past memories with her dad. His death only served to conflict the emotions of his eldest daughter, leaving her alone to heal from the mixed messages she'd been holding onto for most of her life.

She watched her siblings whisper words over his expressionless face, hoping for something unexpected to disrupt the funeral so she could avoid her turn with him. But still, nothing happened. The room felt eerily quiet as she took one large step forward. She leaned over his face, moving closer to his ear in the hopes that he could still somehow hear her, and whispered a final thank you. Her expression remained blank as she moved back far enough for the knights to march over and remove the man from the table.

Everyone stood still, allowing for the clanking of metal chained armor to fill the looming silence of the hall. They waited until he was taken down to the crypts where his remains would lay until the end of time, then they broke their hold. The bell rang, its high pitched resonance pierced those with sensitive ears as the people shuffled in clusters while exiting. Then the Tarth family went too, returning the great sept into the still holy environment it was constructed to be.

Upon their arrival at the castle, the family dispersed in numerous directions; Sibil was pulled away by a trustee of his, Lady Ceria and their son returned to their bedchamber, Jon returned to his stand, and Brienne slipped away unknowingly. Leaving Rilley with both her and her sister's children, who were all eager to get on with something more entertaining than the mourning process.

She managed to keep them entertained within the castle walls for a few hours, then the brooding clouds parted from their blockade in front of the sun. Its heat beamed down on the island, especially down to the sandy shore. The twins toes tingled at the thought of feeling the grain beneath their feet, the cool sapphire water leaving salt on their skin as it crashed and pulled away.

The four children rushed down the endless flights of stairs, skipping a few steps dangerously as they ignored the low growls of their stomachs. Each of them caught a whiff of whatever deliciously dead animal was being grilled in the castle for their supper tonight. Rickon and Ilizabeth were too excited to splash around in the water to even think about eating, while Rilley cursed herself for not bringing a loaf of bread.

In just a short span of time, the twins grew to enjoy their aunt's presence tremendously. Her raunchy nature made their stomach knots from laughter, and being that she was the polar opposite of their mother who only swore when she was angry, they found her incredibly entertaining.

Despite there being a slightly awkward age gap amongst the four, the twins also enjoyed the company of their cousins seeing as the children had been inseparable from the moment they first laid eyes on each other. Extended families rarely spend time together in Westeros, simply because of how marriage and movement around the country worked simultaneously. Rilley's heart warmed feverishly as she carefully watched her children rush towards the fizzing waves crashing against the shore.

Ilizabeth bent over and stuck her hand into the water grinning at the wobbly image in the clear crystal water. Her arms grew tired of supporting her gown so she decided to let the hem soak up in the water. Occasionally the sopping fabric would stick uncomfortably to the back of her legs but the sheer awe of being in Tarth distracted her. She loved that when she closed her eyes the reek of salt overpowered all her other senses. No more waves crashing, no more blinding light, only the smell and taste of salt.

Whilst Ilizabeth splashed around in a world without snow, Rickons legs grew tired of fighting against the pulling current. His pant legs were cuffed just below his knee caps, and somewhat damp despite the efforts of avoidance. He joined his aunt away from the water, now sitting beside her with his hands and toes buried in the shale grainy sand.

"I can't believe how amazing this place is, although it is a bit warm," Rickon laughed whilst tugging on the collar of his tunic.

"It takes some time to get used to, especially for a Northern boy like yourself." Rilley laughed.

"Do you know why Mother didn't join us? She says she adores the beach," He asked shyly. He didn't want to sound like a little kid who still needed his mother everywhere, even if he was in some way.

"Probably somewhere sulking about how much she misses your mother" Rilley joked. "After you arrived yesterday, I went looking for her and found her writing a letter to Winteferll."

"They're always like that." Rickon rolled his eyes playfully.

"Are they always together at home?"

"For the most part, yes," Rickon said in a recent realization.

"It makes sense given the circumstances," Rilley spoke drawing unorganized lines into the sand.

Just as Rickon was about to ask his aunt to elaborate on her last statement, Ilizabeth joined the two. Also tired from running against the current, she let her younger much more energetic cousins know she would soon return to the silly game they played. She sat beside them silently, waiting to catch onto the conversation.

"What do you mean by that?" Rickon continued.

"By what?" Ilizabeth said, still panting slightly.

"Aunt Rilley was just talking about Mothers'." Rickon filled her in quickly. "Something about their insufferable refusal to separate having circumstances?".

"You know, given everything your Mother had been through?" Rilley spoke with a confused tone.

"Which mother?" Ilizabeth asked.

"Sansa," Rilley paused. "Hold for a moment, how much do you two know about your mothers' history?"

"We know Mother Bri saved Mother Sansa and all the rest of Westeros during the Long Night. Then again when she almost died beyond the wall, resulting in us. They married the same night we were born, the night a mad man attacked and killed Aunt Ilizabeth," Ilizabeth spoke simply.

Rilley paused now, understanding that the children were uninformed of the inbetween details of how their mothers actually met, and how well they knew the family of said 'mad man'. Truthfully she was amazed at how the rest of the town didn't do it for them, she figured maybe minor details were left out intentionally. While she racked her brain for something to cover it up, the children noticed her resevred expression, especially Ilizabeth.

"Why do I get the feeling there's something more here?" She looked at Rickon uneasily.

"Your Mother Sansa should be the one to tell you, it's her story to tell" Rilley wished to end the conversation.

"You're scaring us, Aunt Rilley" Ilizabeth began to worry.

She didn't want to lie to them, but she didn't want to overstep her boundaries.

"When exactly did they tell you about the first time they met?" She inquired for more information before deciding what to say next.

"They told us they met when Mother Brienne arrived at Castle Winterfell right before the battle of the Long Night" He repeated their lie confidently.

"All I can say is that by the time the Long Night came around your Mothers' had already been in love for some time." Rilley revealed. "When you get back home, ask Sansa to tell you the truth about their history. It'll help you understand."

The children weren't satisfied with that response, especially Rickon who was almost always filled with curiosity. Ilizabeth gave her brother a look that demanded he stop asking questions. She didn't want to pressure Aunt Rilley, and didn't want a story about her mothers past to come from anyone but her mother. Their Uncle Jon Willum tugged through the sand, covered in the same dark substance from yesterday, whilst waving over his wife. Rilley excused herself, asking if the twins could keep an eye on the children.

They returned to their cousins who sat just at the edge of the ocean, close enough for the washed up waves to splash against their feet before cowering back into the big sea.

"What else do you do for fun on the island?" Rickon asked, growing bored of sitting by the water.

"Well sometimes Uncle Sibil takes on a rowboat and we go around the island" Rheine suggested.

"Or our Father teaches us to forge swords for the commoners" Fred exclaimed stating his favorite activity very clearly.

The children figured maybe it would be fun to take a boat around the island before they left. There was still a little time before they boarded, and they wanted to take in as much of Tarth as possible.

"If you don't have a father, does that make you bastards?" Fred questioned innocently.

"Mother told you not to ask them that! I'm telling her right now" Rheine stood up furiously.

"It's alright Rheine, there's no need to tell. He's just curious, really" Rickon spoke, relating to the inability to control curiosity.

The girl sat back down, huffing with her arms crossed while she side eyed her brother. Judging by how quickly her expression softened, they assumed she was just as curious as her brother, only more polite.

"We're not bastards, our mother is married" Ilizabeth spoke hoping that would be the end of the questioning.

"Idiot, Aunt Brienne's a Stark now. She's married to one of the King's brothers" Rheine spoke excitedly. "Although . . . I thought all of the Stark brothers were either killed or exiled?"

"Our Mother married Sansa Stark, King Brandons eldest sister, better known as the Queen in The North and the Lady of Winterfell" Rickon finally ripped the bandaid off.

Both of the children paused now looking at the cousins as if they had two heads. They figured they must've been insane, insane enough to announce something so blasphemous with pride. Ilizabeth secretly wished Rickon hadn't said anything, she knew the people of the south were not ready to hear about how fast the North had progressed under their Mothers' reign.

"You're lying" The boy scoffed while tossing little pebbles into the ocean.

"How?" Rheine asked.

"Our Mother is highly respected amongst the realm. When she chose Mother Bri to be her wife, for the most part Northerns remained loyal to her" Rickon explained it exactly how it was explained to him.

"I figured that. I mean how are . . ." She paused, glancing back at her brother before lowering her voice. "How are you sitting here now,"

They didn't imagine the younger girl would know anything about procreation, she was still just a little girl. They figured maybe she was an eavesdropper or that she only knew because she had entered womanhood already. Rickon and Ilizabeth knew this was something they weren't supposed to discuss, many people drew the line at blood magic and this wasn't worth compromising their safety.

"We can't tell you about that, so please don't ask again" Ilizabeth responded quickly.

"What'd you ask?!" Fred turned his attention back to them.

"Nothing." They all responded simultaneously.

Rilley finally finished her conversation with her husband before returning to collect the kids, it was time for them to head back up the steps to the castle. Between the time it would take for them to all climb back up there, then bathe and dress for the occasion, she figured they should get a head start.

The five hiked back up the stairs, realizing it really never got any easier. While the children and Rilley prepared themselves for dinner Brienne laid in the grass right outside the front entrance of the castle.

She loved the way the island air felt against her skin during this time of the day. Tiny sparkling specs sat on top of the orangely purple blended sky, showing faint images of both the moon and the sun. The way the cool setting air would rustle the ginormous leaves on the tropical trees that multiplied throughout the island sat with Brienne forever.

No matter where she lived, she could never forget how much peace the fragrance of the salty sapphire isle. She rubbed her palm across the fearthy grass, still faintly feeling the leg of her wife from the last time they sat out here. A smile formed in thought of the memory while she let out a deep content sigh knowing she'd be on her way back to her tomorrow.

"You spend a lot of time alone," Lady Ceria spoke startling Brienne.

Brienne jolted upwards, her head swirling around the plot of land as she looked for the source of the voice. Lady Ceria appeared from the west end stairwell, an area Brienne forgot existed.

"I didn't mean to startle you" She held her hand up apologetically.

"It's alright," Brienne laughed lightly. "I usually never have a moment to myself. Between my duty to the realm, my Queen, and our children. This is the most alone I've been for quite some time now,"

"I too have felt these emotions. Ever since I moved into this enormous castle I've felt like my privacy no longer exists" She confessed.

"You'll get used to it, and eventually you'll find ways to slip away as I do," Brienne joked. A brief moment of silence passed before Lady Ceria finally began to speak again.

"I know Sibil is odd. He can be quite an awkwardly nervous wreck, especially when it pertains to you" Lady Ceria spoke.

"Me, how?" Brienne questioned.

"Well, you're the whole reason he's in this position. You found him, and demanded he be acknowledged as a Tarth. Plus you're the first female knight in all of Westeros, and the Lord Commander of the Queensguard in the North. He so desperately wants to impress you." Lady Ceria smiled. "That's the real reason he requested your presence at Lord Selwyns send off"

Brienne didn't expect to hear such words, especially from her brother's wife. She hadn't really given much thought on any other reason for being invited apart from it being tradition to have the family present. She appreciated her brother looking up to her, but she felt his admiration was useless. He was already so accomplished, especially for someone who entered the world as a bastard. Although she brought him into the light, he was going to have to shine bright on his own, and it seemed as if he already did.

"I didn't think of that," Brienne replied.

"I just thought I should explain peculiarity. It might be one of my favorite things about him, but I know it makes him feel insecure, like he's somehow less intelligent just because he's a little high strung" Lady Ceria chuckled at the thought of her husband's erratic energy.

A few of the servants from the castle stumbled upon the two sitting in the front lawn, finally being able to call everyone to dinner. The woman rose to their feet and followed behind the servants whilst still mentioning some of the strange quirks of Lord Sibil in a humorous light.

Lady Ceria excused herself from Brienne as she found her way to her place, beside her husband, at the head of the table. Brienne quickly scanned the area, noticing that her sister and her family were also present before zeroing in on her children who sat with a place for her between them. She happily joined her them, somehow managing to slip away from the painful reminder of their sisters' absence

"Did you two enjoy yourselves at the shore?" Brienne asked.

"Absolutely," Rickon replied.

"Could you take us on a rowboat around the isle, Freddie and Rheine say Uncle Jon takes them all the time?" Ilizabeth questioned.

"I don't see why not, we'll go before we leave tomorrow." Brienne nodded.

Rickon began to fiddle with his fingers. His eyebrows were drawn together, and his eyes remained at the ground all in response to the conversation they had earlier looming over him. Ilizabeth took notice, now leaning back to reprimand the boy. They mouthed words at each other harshly as they argued about the state of the secret.

Ilizabeth begged for him not to say anything about what their Aunt Rilley told them. She knew her brother, and she knew it was just as hard for him as it is little Freddie when it comes to fighting off asking whatever question comes to the forefront of one's mind. Brienne was distracted from her conversation, now noticing the twins' unusual posture at the dinner table.

"What are you two doing?" She chuckled looking at them strangely.

"Aunt Rilley told us you were sad about missing Mother, are you feeling better now?" Ilizabeth redirected the conversation.

"You're Aunt Rilley has a big mouth," Brienne spoke loudly at the end whilst glaring at her sister. "But I'm alright my love, you know how I worry for you all"

"I didn't tell them anything. I told them to Sansa about the truth," Rilley spoke defensively.

The servants moved around the table swiftly. They placed a beautiful arrangement of food down in the center as the attention of the room slowly started to turn towards Brienne and Rilley after their awkward moment of silence.

Ilizabeths slapped her forehead against her palm as her mothers face drew up in confusion. Rickon's eyes glanced back and forth between the two, kicking his feet happily like a toddler in their mothers arms. He wasn't even trying to hide how eager he was that the conversation had surfaced without him having to provoke it.

"What are you talking about?" Brienne questioned. "What truth?" Brienne now looked back at her children whose eyes immediately darted to their plates.

"Nothing, how about we just eat" Rilley tried her best to divert the topic of conversation to something else.

"Rilley . . ." Brienne called.

"Seven hells, I just- I didn't know you told them you met during the Long Night. I wouldn't have said anything had I known."

Brienne's mind traveled to both the first and second time she ever laid eyes on her wife, still somewhat carrying the pain of not being able to protect her from becoming a bargaining chip in Littlefinger's climb to the throne. Sansa was the one who decided that the children didn't need to know the gruesome details of their past, especially because she didn't want them to ever have to worry about a world where men like that existed.

She wasn't angry, she just felt guilty. Guilty that her wife would have to relieve such painful memories in explaining it to their kids. The twins observed the look on their mothers face, feeling more confused than before. Both Rickon and Ilizabeth began to feel guilty as they watched their mothers eyes withdraw from where they sat, whatever it was they knew it had to be painful. It was riddled all over the pale blank expressionless stare sat on their mothers face.

"We're sorry Mother, it's alright. We won't speak of it anymore" Ilizabeth placed a hand on top of Briennes. "Will we, Rickon?" She said his name aggressively.

"Yes, we will forget all about iit" He nodded.

"It's alright. Just . . . let's enjoy dinner," She smiled sadly.

Rickon and Ilizabeth ate with their heads low, wallowing in the guilt curated by the quietness of their mother. Ilizabeth could stand up and kick her brothers backside right now, he was always ruining things to her. Of course, that wasn't necessary because the boy was already kicking himself. Brienne tried her hardest to fight from the thought of her wifes pain, but in doing so it left her mind too busy to engage in the conversation. The Tarths ate rather quietly, glancing around the room occasionally in awkward silence.

Chapter Text

*Slight Trigger Warning: This Chapter VERY VAGUELY recaps Ramsay Bolton's evil ass and his assault on Sansa*

"Must you always make the wrong decisions, Rickon!" Ilizabeth exclaimed as she slammed the door behind them.

She'd been chewing him out the entire walk back to their bedchamber from the dining hall. After the awkwardly quiet dinner concluded, their mother sorrowfully kissed their heads and dragged herself back to the confinement of her own room. Rickon and Ilizabeth turned their backs to one another, now changing into their night clothes as they continued to bicker.

"What did I do?" Rickon scoffed.

"I could tell by that smug look on your stupid face. If Aunt Rilley hadn't said something you would've." She continued.

They turned back around simultaneously. As they found themselves growing increasingly angry with one another, their similar features furrowed and creased in the same place. Ilizabeth plopped down on the bed, letting out a big sigh as her gaze was stuck on the sandy brick stone that made up the four walls surrounding them. The breeze from the tide whipped through the opened window and filled their room with the same smell the entire island reeked of, salt.

"We have a right to know things!" He shouted.

"We don't! Not when it isn't about us, not when mothers' didn't want us to know for good reason" Ilizabeth explained.

"How can you be so content with always being left in the dark? They refused to tell us about our conception, about our gift, about your destiny beyond the wall, and now this" He sat down beside her.

"This isn't the same, Rickon" She said with his words now somewhat getting to her.

"But how can you be sure?"

Ilizabeth paused. She toyed with the hem of her nightgown as she racked her mind for an answer. As much as she wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt, this was yet another lie. She hadn't expected her mothers to retell every single gruesome detail about their past, but she couldn't understand why they would lie about when they fell in love. Ilizabeth felt conflicted. On one hand, she didn't want to pry, but on the other, she grew tired of being deceived by people meant to care about her.

"So, what do you propose we do?" Ilizabeth turned to face her brother. "Should we wait to return home and plainly ask mother about it?"

"Well, I don't think you'll like my suggestion, sister" Rickon volume trailed off.

For a second it seemed like her whole world stopped moving. The curtains no longer danced in the breeze, nor did the flames from the candles. Her brother had ceased to move too. He sat still, with an expression that suggested the exact same words he said, that she wouldn't like whatever followed next.

"We don't have to ask them anything, not if we can use my sight to see it ourselves,"

"No," She immediately dismissed the idea.

"What, why not?"

"Because . . ." She paused nervously. "Aunt Rilley said mother had been through a lot, what if we don't like what we see?"

"You're being dramatic Ilizabeth, what could it possibly be?" He questioned.

"You seem to be forgetting the reason as to why we have zero grandparents and half our uncles. Bad things have happened, Rickon. Why can't you see that they simply wish to protect us from that?" She argued.

"Because refusing to speak of it does not remove the possibility of it still occurring. Maybe the reason all these bad things happened to mother is because she was too naive, too busy thinking only good of a world that just isn't!" He yelled loudly.

Ilizabeth went mute, clearly appalled by the way her brother spoke of their mother. She too was fuming now, so much that it caused a delay in her realizing the shift in her reality. Within the blink of an eye, they went from their spots on the bed in Tarth, to the woods just outside Winterfell. Ilizabeth spun in slow circles as her head swiveled around the forest nervously.

The silence of the woods sent a chill down her spine, a signal to make her knees buckle, and an indication to cause her teeth to chatter. While she stood paralyzed in fear, Rickon took a few steps forward. The now compacted snow crunched under the weight of his boot as he looked around the forest for what they were supposed to be seeing.

Suddenly the sound of water sloshing, horses galloping, and hounds barking filled the forest like the whispers from the Old Gods. He grabbed his sister's wrist tightly, now pulling her towards the source of the noise.

Moving valiantly through the river was a younger version of their mother, and a young man dressed in rags. They held onto each other with great desperation as their winter wool soaked up the below freezing cold temperature water.

Rickon analyzed the expression of his mother and her traveling companion as he moved closer and closer. They found a fallen tree and used its risen roots to mask their presence from those coming after them. He was careful to not get too close, to not breathe too loud, to do nothing that would alert them of his presence like he did with his grandparents in the Godswood.

Young Sansa clung onto the man as he rubbed her back and arms causing friction to warm her slightly. His moppy hair came down just past his chin and whipped him in the face every time he looked over his shoulder.

"My lady, I will lure them away," He began to rise. Sansa grabbed his wrist, pulling him back down slightly.

"No, I won't make it without you," She pleaded.

"You will go North, only north. Jon is Lord Commander at Castle Black. He'll help you" He half smiled.

He gazed at her, and with eyes full of erratic fear, he rose to his feet and began to run into the woods. The uneven rise and fall of his hobbled run caught Ilizabeth's attention. She no longer looked out into the distance, nor did she use her inner voice to sing loud enough to tune out her reality. Instead she watched, just as her brother did.

The sound of the men's horses and hounds grew closer and closer, until they stopped in front of the man. The hounds tugged on their leashes, practically foaming at the mouth as they looked at the man like he was meant to be their next meal. Rickon and Ilizabeth immediately recognized the knights' pin metal helmets as northern armor but still something unrecognizable.

"Where is Lady Bolton?" He asked angrily.

"Dead,"

"Liar,"

"She broke her leg jumping from the ramparts, I left her to die in the snow,"

The howls of the hounds intensified, leaving a high pitch ringing noise in everyone's ears. While Rickon continued to observe the interaction with wide eyes, Ilizabeth found herself distracted by her mother. Her heart ached at the sight of her red teary eyes, her cold pale goosebump riddled skin. She moved to her mothers side, now crouching down next to her. For a second she thought about reaching out, until the growling hounds rushed towards them.

Ilizabeth stumbled backwards, forgetting that in this reality she couldn't be harmed. The hounds and knights forced the man's back against the tree as his expression fell weary. He searched the area for something that would free them and the hounds barked and sniffed up the skirt of her gown.

One of the men clasped onto the shoulder of her, pulling her to feet despite all resistance. While she struggled and struck back grunting, a rumble could be heard in the background. Everyone's head turned, even the children, they all frantically searched the woods until their eyes settled in on two riders charging into the fight.

"It's mother!" Ilizabeth whispered as she pulled her brother back a few steps.

Their eyes grew huge, practically shimmering in amazement of the way their mother cut down the men. Being that they hadn't seen the man in many years, and this version of him was incredibly youthful, it took them a while to notice that the man accompanying their mother was Uncle Podrick. He was nothing like the fighter they vaguely remembered him to be seeing as to how he needed help finishing off his own men.

The man who accompanied Sansa found himself down in the snow, he scurried backwards until his back hit a tree trunk. As the knight's sword was raised over his head, the children fought desperately not to call out. Ilizabeth turned her head just before the squelching sound of sword piercing his body quieted the fight. Podrick quickly cut down the knight before flipping the man's body over. He said nothing, breathed nothing, and didn't move in the slightest. He was gone, and there was nothing they could do to change it.

"How do you suspect you will fight beyond the North if you can't even watch someone die?" Rickon questioned.

"Hush now, the fighting's over," She redirected her attention.

They could tell by the way their mother stiffly cried, that losing that man was conflicting for her. She wiped her eyes before stepping out from behind her cover and locked eyes with their mother for what seemed like the first time. Young Brienne placed one of her knees into the snow, then her sword. She looked back up at their mother and spoke.

"Lady Sansa, I offer you my services once again," She paused. "I will shield your back and keep your council and give my life for yours if need be, I swear it by the Old Gods and the New,"

"Again?" Rickon repeated her words.

"And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth. And meet and mead at my table, and I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you some dishonor, I wear it by the Old Gods and the New, arise." Sansa responded while shivering.

Just like the end to a conversation, the words exchanged between their mothers' ceased and the twins were brought back to reality. Despite being back on the warm island, they could still feel the snow, it's chilling contrast against their skin. Rickon sat silently as he was still amazed by how real everything felt. He blinked a few times, trying to shake the out of body experience that came with his visions while his sister did her best to process and understand everything.

"Are you okay?" Ilizabeth noticed Rickon's consciousness wavering.

"Yeah, yeah. It just takes a lot out of me," He replied while rubbing his head.

She grabbed the pitcher and glass from their bedside and poured her brother a glass to which he drank in gulp. Ilizabeth placed a hand on his back, now rubbing in a circular motion as he mind wandered back to the events they'd just seen.

"Who is Lady Bolton?" She questioned. "That knight, it seemed like he thought Mother S was Lady Bolton,"

"Do you think there could be a possibility that she was once upon a time?" He asked.

"Whatever do you mean, brother?"

"Maybe mother was married," He shrugged.

Ilizabeth paused, and then broke out into a loud contagious laughter. She threw her head back as the hiccup-like sound poured from her mouth. Rickon looked at her curiously, not understanding which part of his statement was humorous.

"I couldn't imagine mother ever being with a man willingly,"

"I thought you were the smart one," Rickon scoffed. "If she was running from him and his men with some strange looking cripple, what suggests that anything she did prior to was voluntary?"

She took another moment, now beginning to fathom the idea of misfortune falling upon her mother. A flash of her mother's terrified face came to the forefront of her mind which caused a strange feeling to resonate inside her. She couldn't help but feel like she had walked in on something she wasn't supposed to see, like she invaded her mothers right to privacy.

"If I agree to work with you to figure more of this out, do you swear you will keep your mouth shut?" She looked at him seriously.

"I swear,

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the twins rose the next morning, they went over their promise to each other before going to join their mother for the day. She promised to take them rowing around the island and when she made promises to her children she rarely went back on them.

Despite what happened last night, Brienne found herself enjoying both the view and their company as she tugged on the wooden oars of the row boat repeatedly. They fell into a rhythmic pattern that would keep them sailing smoothly around the isle for some time.

Seeing as to how they sat silently watching her row with a puzzling expression, there was still some animosity between the three.

Although today was a new day, and the land of Tarth was truly breathtaking, the children found themselves thinking about last night. They felt guilty for forcing their mother to rehash memories that were clearly troubling, and even worse that they had agreed to keep what little information they had, a secret.

As the rowboat began to catch a decent amount of speed, Brienne decided she would take a small break. She placed the oars down along the sides of the boat and looked at the calming sapphire blue hue of the water she loved dearly. She was distracted by her own thoughts, causing her hand to autonomously find itself off the side, splashing against the current freely.

"Mother, we're really sorry" Rickon apologized again.

Brienne turned her attention to the children who sat directly across from her. She couldn't help but smile in sight of the great young adults they were turning into. They flashed her a sorrowful smile, still feeling a sense of shame.

"It's alright. There's no need to look down, my loves" She spoke. "I just-"

She didn't know how to begin to put the events into words. Everytime her mind thought of something to say, her conscience screamed not to. In a way she felt the same as Rilley, that it wasn't her place to share another woman's pain, especially to children who truly know nothing on the meaning of that word.

"What happened to your mother all started when she was just a year younger than you. She spent . . .many years in pain that only grew worse as she grew older. I had the fortune of meeting your grandmother, the late Lady Catelyn Stark before meeting your mother. She tasked me with going to King's Landing to return both her daughters to her, after your grandfather was killed by the illegitimate king."

"By the time I arrived Arya and your mother were gone, and Lady Catelyn was dead. Still I looked for your mother and her sister, I found your Aunt Arya first and although she was fine without me your mother . . .let's just say it took her a bit more time to learn not to trust everyone" Brienne explained.

The children listened, feeling both a sense of eagerness and sorrow as their mother began to fill in the gaps from last night. They had already a hundred questions, but they didn't want to interrupt a story like this.

"Although I begged her not to go with him, my cries fell on deaf ears as your mother did not know or trust me at the time. Instead, she went with a very deceptive man called Littlefinger who used your mother as a pawn, and gave her to the son of Roose Bolton, the man who plotted to kill your Uncle Robb and your Grandmother. With the help of another, they'd used the opportunity to take the North from our family and forced Sansa to marry Ramsey. For days he beat her, forced himself on her, and kept her locked away so no one would know what he was doing."

They watched nervously as their mothers breathing intensified, and her fists turned yellow from the pressure of being balled up. She paused while taking in a few deep breaths.

"I did nothing but sit there on the outskirts of Winterfell waiting for the right moment to save her, completely unaware of all the horrible things he was doing. If I had known I would've . . . I could've" Brienne grew angry in retelling the story.

"You and Uncle Podrick did your best, mother" Ilizabeth added.

"I know but-" She paused. "Wait . . . how did you know that Uncle Podrick was with me?"

"Oh . . . i just imagined because of all your stories," Ilizabeth lied terribly.

She looked at her son whose eyes darted away immediately. Although neither of them said another word, she could tell they were hiding something from her.

"Why do I feel I'm missing the full truth here?"

"We just want you to know that we know you did everything in your power" Rickon replied redirecting the conversation.

"Yeah, and so does mother,"

Neither of them wanted their mother to have to relieve that guilt, especially when they'd seen just how much she did for her. Brienne nodded profusely trying to get her mind to believe in the words both her wife and children have spoken to her. She took in a few deep breaths, now regaining the calmness to continue.

"Podrick and I waited outside in that tower for days. Neither of us had ever been out in the snow that long, it was brutal. Just as we were feeling discouraged a light came from your mothers room, and we went after her. She jumped from the castle, and fled through the river before his men found her," She continued.

"We arrived shirtly after, and killed every last one of them. Although they killed the man who helped your mother escape, we were able to save her. From that moment on, I rarely left your Mothers side. She was in such a frazzled state that she needed to sleep with me just to keep from waking up screaming. Eventually we met up with your Uncle Jon who was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and he helped your Mother take back the castle. Everything that followed, you already know" Brienne finished.

For once, the children were rendered speechless. Piecing together the details of the vision and their mothers' story left them feeling uneasy. The thought of there being such evil out in the world was startling. They hoped it had died with the man, but evil never dies, it only masks itself. Still there was one thing their mother said, that they couldn't quite wrap their heads around.

"When you say 'forced himself on' . . . what does that mean?" Ilizabeth asked.

Brienne's eyes grew wide again. She hadn't even realized that those words slipped out of her mouth. She felt the children were too young to know about things like these, too young and innocent to have to worry about something so cruel.

"It- uh . . ."

"I think it means when a man forces a woman to lay with him," Rickon chimed in.

"You mean like-"

"Yes"

"Why would someone ever do something like that?" Her tone suggested she was appalled.

"Because some men lack a great sense of honor sweetheart," Brienne said, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Brienne stuck the paddles back into the water, causing the boat to rock gently with every row. The relationship between Brienne and Sansa weighed heavily on their childrens' minds.

Being told that Brienne saved her during the Long Night served to strip away the personal attachment they had to each other. Brienne was fighting that night for herself, for the fellow Northerns, and for the children who sat in front of her today. But in knowing the truth, that Brienne had spent years looking for their mother to fulfill an oath and keep her safe, it finally allowed them to understand their attachment. Anyone with that sort of history would cling to their family in the way she did.

"That's horrible" Ilizabeth couldn't find any more words.

"So you see, I don't really like to be away from your mother. I try to avoid ever having to leave her side because she's been my whole world for so long. If something were to ever happen to her because I wasn't there. I don't think I could live with myself." Brienne expressed to her kids.

"I assure you, she is safe. She's at home, with Uncle Jon and the rest of the Queensguard, and the knights of Winterfell, waiting for us to return. In fact why don't we turn this rowboat around and we'll set sail a little earlier" Rickon suggested.

"No, no. It's alright" Brienne denied.

"I'm okay with it too, Mother. Plus I miss her too" Ilizabeth admitted.

She looked at her children and smiled softly. Although she didn't say anything, the look of gratitude she responded with was enough. The three were finally able to break the tension that had been building since last night's feast and truly enjoyed the ride as they rowed back.

They talked about all of the amazing things in Tarth, and how hilarious their Uncle and Aunt were. They hoped that if they'd stuck around long enough, their Uncle Podrick would show. But the man hadn't been back on the isle in well over a year and the Tarth's were unsure of his whereabouts.

As soon as they returned to the shore, Brienne commanded the nearby knights to return to the castle and collect their things. She and the children sat by the shore taking in the view of the isle once more while they waited for their family to join them at dock.

The knights made a few trips up and down the stairs as they collected and loaded the royal family's things onto their ship. A few of them looked like they were going to keel over from the impact of the heat any minute now. Just as the last bag was put away, the Tarth/Willum family had arrived at the shore.

Seeing as to how they were much more familiar with each other upon departure than arrival, emotions grew high and a few tears fell from the eyes of Rilley and her children.

"Will you write to us?" Fred asked while snuggling into his mothers legs.

"Of course we will," Rickon kneeled down while opening his arms for the boy to hug him.

The Starks, Tarths, and Willums exchanged many hugs, trying their best to fight through the pain of the low likelihood of meeting again. Brienne and the children followed behind the last of the knights and stood on the dock as the ship's start up rumbled beneath their feet. The three of them stood by the ledge and waved solemn goodbye to their family as the boat ship sailed off slowly.

After traveling for at least four days on sea, and another three on land, the Starks found themselves back outside Castle Winterfell. Their hearts pounded in their chests and their eyes wandered around the castle ground as they waited for the knights to finish drawing the gates open.

They ordered for their knight and horse to stop as the rest trotted back over to the stables. The carriage door burst open, hitting the wood so hard that it startled the horse slightly. A gust of wind blew many strands of bright red hair over the ledge of the balcony, causing all three sets of eyes to fall on the Queen.

Sansa lifted up the skirt of her dress and began to rush down the stairs with a huge smile on her face. Brienne watched happily as the children threw their arms around her wife the moment she reached the bottom. Sansa pulled them both into an embrace they thought she'd never let them out of.

"We missed you, mother," Rickon exclaimed.

"Oh I missed you too, my loves" Sansa kissed both of their heads.

The children released their grip on their mother, already eager to find their friends and tell them all about their trip. They begged their mothers' for permission to run off, to which they were granted. While Rickon and Ilizabeth rushed through the back ends of the castle, Brienne and Sansa turned their attention away from the fleeing children and finally locked eyes with one another. Brienne looked longingly into the pool blue eyes, simply melting away at the fact that she'd finally been able to see them again. She wrapped her arms around the waist of the smaller woman, lifting her off the ground as she spun her in a small circle. Sansa placed her soft palm on the cheek of Brienne before pulling her into a long overdue kiss.

"I never want to be away from you again," Brienne sighed, pulling her into another hug.

"Neither do I,"

"Maybe we should find our way upstairs," Brienne suggested feeling uncomfortable with everyone watching them.

The two giggled like little girls as they rushed hand in hand up the stairwell of Keep. Brienne shut the door behind them roughly, and turned to lift Sansa up. The Queen wrapped her legs around Brienne's waist now attaching their lips together in a far less innocent manner than before.

Seeing as to how Sansa had been struggling with the lack of sexual acts performed on each other, she moaned shamelessly at the touch of her wife. Brienne tossed Sansa onto the bed lightly. She stared intensely as the redhead seductively began to remove her clothing. She motioned for Brienne to climb onto the bed, whilst kneeling on the mattress completely undressed. Sansa kissed every inch of bare skin that revealed itself while she slowly popped open the buttons of Brienne's doublet.

"I love you" Brienne moaned as her head fell back.

"I love you too,"

Chapter Text

Rickon fidgeted restlessly as he sat at his mothers vanity waiting for her to return with the hair brush. After contemplating for weeks he finally decided to work up the courage to ask her to braid his hair in a style she liked to wear, even if it was just to wear inside. Of course because his hair stopped just past his shoulders, and hers closer to her butt, she'd have to modify the style. To which he nor she had a problem with.

If there was anything Sansa loved half as much as she loved spending time with her family, it would be doing hair and sewing. She adored her son and all of his peculiar interests. No matter what he enjoyed doing in his free time, she was always going to be right there, supporting him through it.

A few colorful rolls of fabric flew across the bedroom, nearly missing the lit candles on the end table by the bed as Sansa searched through the bedroom. She remembered to check behind the vase of fresh flowers Brienne added to the clutter on their dresser yesterday and sure enough, there it was.

Sansa returned back to her place behind Rickon where she could see both of their faces in the foggy reflection. As soon as she started to run the brush through his curls, the boy hissed the air through his teeth, wincing as she hit many knots.

"Ow, mother," Rickon groaned, now making eye contact through the mirror.

"Well, I can't braid it until we've brushed out all the knots," She replied.

As gentle as she tried to be while continuing to brush through his hair, she still had to pause to relax his shoulders every time they tensed up from the sudden painful pull against the knot. He grew slightly agitated in the exaggerating mindset of possibly ending up with a crook in his neck from such a gruesome procedure like this.

Just as his eyes traveled up the mirror in search of his mothers attention again, he caught a sudden glimpse of the version of her from the woods. It whipped through his mind like the memory of a memory.  As much as he fought against the feeling, to him it was like staring at a different person. Of course it was still the mother he knew and loved, but he felt something he'd never felt for her before . . . pity.

He tried not to see her differently, but it was hard. The gruesome details of his mothers life left him conflicted, especially whenever she was near. Despite her smiles, he still felt angry. Despite her jokes, he only grew more serious. Her eyes glanced up at the mirror, then again now settling on the look he gave her. Although he tried to quickly divert his stare elsewhere she could tell that something was on his mind.

"What's that look for?" Sansa asked, putting the brush down.

"What look?"

"That look I just caught you giving me," She smiled warmly. "What's on your mind, dear?

"Nothing," He quickly responded.

Sansa began her first braid, still occasionally looking into the reflection to study his face. She searched for any sort of detail that would suggest what was on his mind, and tried to draw conclusions based on that. Yet still, she came up with nothing. Sansa despised secrets. They always left her feeling uninformed and unprepared. Which wasn't a good feeling to have as a wife, a mother, a Queen, as anything.

"Rickon" She sighed, now stopping again.

His eyes finally returned to the mirror. The way her eyebrows furrowed slightly suggested a familiar motherly worry. A feeling Rickon was used to combatting, but it was much harder when you had to look her in the eyes, especially after knowing the full truth.

"I don't wish to speak of it mother, please let's forget about it" He pleaded.

His pleas only served to worry the woman even more.  It usually didn't take this long to get her children to crack, especially Rickon. For some reason the sweet docile approach stroked their guilt and left them singing like a canary. So she knew that whatever the boy was hiding was heavy, and that only served to pique her concern. She didn't say another word, nor did she move, instead she stood there and looked at him through the mirror. It was only a moment before he-

"Fine" Rickon said. "Sit please"

These brief victories usually ended in a gloating smile, but her very unserious son's, serious tone of voice truly began to set it. Sansa grew very weary of the words that would follow, as if they were going to jump out and take something from her in a second. She always had that fear, that something or someone would be taken from her.

"Whilst sitting at the shore with Aunt Rilley in Tarth, we joked about how much mother missed you. She indicated that Mother couldn't handle being away from you because of your past together." Rickon started.

Something inside the Queen began to surface, like a sunken ship caught in a gust of wind, now beaming to the top to make a grand reappearance. Just as he paused, she felt her spine jolt stiff. She feared she already knew his next words, in the same way Ilizabeth could predict his next move, they both wished to keep a certain truth locked away.

"We know you didn't meet during the Battle of the Long Night, but in a tavern with a man named Littlefinger . . . that after you left with him instead of mother, you were forced to marry a man who did terrible things . . . to you and to others. It was only after all that you were reunited with mother and she's been protecting you from that very day" Rickon confessed.

The tears in Sansa's eyes began to pile up against her bottom eyelid, so much that when she blinked a few streams fell from her face and into the smooth fabric of her royal gown. She used the sleeve of her gown to wipe them away before stopping to take a deep breath.

"I-I wish I was the one to tell you," She spoke.

"It's alright mother, you shouldn't have to relive something like that,"

"I hated lying to you both. You're my children and you deserve the truth . . . I'd like to think despite all of the pain, your mother and I have quite the love story," Sansa smiled.  "I just didn't want to rehash that and there was no way to explain everything without mentioning those parts",

"Mother, you don't have to explain," Rickon said standing up.

He joined his mother on the edge of the mattress, crinkling the duvet as his weight caused it to sink in further. She was surprised to hear that he wasn't angry about all of their secrets suddenly surfacing. Although she knew this situation was different, and that he was a compassionate boy, a part of her worried he wouldn't be able to go past it.

Rickon wrapped his long noodle arm around his mothers shoulder and pulled her in close. They both closed their eyes, now letting the comfort of each other's presence in the dark set it. For some reason this embrace felt different, stronger, as if it were going to transcend them to another world. A breeze slipped through the room, tickling their nerves and raising goosebumps on their skin.

The two opened their eyes to a completely different environment. Despite remaining in Castle Winterfell, they were now in a different room, in a different time period. The bright blue sky had turned to dark deadly grey, the usually green grass was now covered in pure white snow, and the room was borderline silent. A high pitched whistle faded in and out as the wild winter wind blew into the cracked window, and the subtle sound of cries followed.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, facing opposite directions in what appeared to be one of the extra bedrooms of the castle. As Rickons eyes wandered proudly around his end of the room, Sansa was crippled by what fell in her line of sight. She gasped, now holding her breath as her eyes widened and her mouth fell open slightly. Her knees began to wobble, sending her into Rickon's shoulder as she stumbled backwards.

Her expression read hollow, as if her soul had fled from her body and her heart began to pound so loud that she worked up a sweat creating a rhythm of distress. Sansa continued to retreat backwards until she hit the dresser by the door. The objects stacked upon it rattled back and forth, now grasping the attention of Rickon.

The Queen cowered in the corner of the room. She used her arms to cover her face as she sat with her knees pressed tightly against her chest. Just as her heart rate began to speed up, her breathing had spiked in pace now too. A wave of confused panic flushed through Rickon's body as he watched his mother pant and utter words to herself.

Finally, he decided to turn around, to take one good look at the monstrous image that struck his mother senseless. His eyes grew big and round at the sight of a short shaggy haired man, ripping at his mothers clothes, pushing her down, and undressing himself. He turned back around, now too cowering at events they were about to witness. Rickon moved to his mothers side and fell to his knees.

She rocked back and forth with her forehead pressed to her kneecaps, still muttering words that were unintelligible. His mother was a mess, and he felt responsible. Rickons chest began to cave in as the crushing weight of guilt grew heavier. He decided to slowly reach out to his mother, hoping that his touch would soothe her. The second they made contact she began to wail

"GET OFF ME!" She screeched startlingly at the boy.

A muted thud sounded into the room as Rickon fell back on his butt. The impact rippled through the vision and ripped them back into their world. Sansa's heavy breathing was now paired with the joyous chirps of both the Winterfell birds and townsmen. She trembled violently as frightfully riddled eyes stared for an overwhelming amount of time. 

With every inch the boy took forward his appearance changed. He switched back and forth from being the sweet boy she birthed, nursed and raised to the face of the malicious  man who hurt her. She felt the walls begin to cave in. It sent a jolt up her spine, which got her back on her feet. Sansa's eyes began to search the room desperately beforeing settling in on the door knob. Just as quickly as she flung it open, she fled with tears pouring down her face like the rain from a storm.

While Rickon stood frozen in wonder of what to do and Sansa frantically searched for somewhere she felt safe, Brienne, Ilizabeth and Gabrin flung their swords in the Courtyard. Being that the young boy was her squire, she figured she'd put him to good use. She had him sparring with Ilizabeth, that way she could oversee the girl's practice and critique her properly.

Gabrin wielded his sword through the air quickly, he tried to find a space where the Princess was left open but there was none. With every strike he tried to land, Ilizabeths sword was there to contest. The blonde Queen watched her daughter in sheer disbelief at how fast she progressed. They'd only been practicing for a few weeks now and just like her brother and mother, Ilizabeth showed signs of being great with a sword.

The princess continued to block Gabrin's attacks in a lazily predictable motion, until she saw her opening. She could tell by the man's current position that he was angling to approach her left side, so she lifted her foot and kicked the man square in the chest like her mother taught her to. His chainmail armor clattered as he was sent flying backwards, into the soil.

He let out a bellowing sustained groan as the taste of the iron in his blood began to pool in his mouth. He sat up quickly pressing his fingers against the bit of his tongue he chomped on when he hit the ground. Ilizabeth gasped as she noticed the blood, then she dropped her sword.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" She kneeled down beside him.

Her dainty princess palm cupped the part of his cheek where the scruff was trying to grow in, now growing distracted in the look the two shared. She adored the way he looked at her, like she was the only girl he truly wished to see. Had it not been for the presence of the Lord Commander, he would've tried to finally kiss her.

"I'm alright, Princess," He nodded before sitting up.

Just as Brienne made her way over to the pair to interject their blatantly romantic moment, her son came rushing into the corridors. His eyes burned a bright and irritated shade of red, and his curls were brushed out into a disheveled bush as the wind created from his dash here moved it around frantically. She turned her attention to Rickon, now moving towards him as she began to list the endless possibility of problems he may have encountered.

"I-I-I couldn't control it, mother," Rickon sobbed hysterically.

His cries collected the attention of his sister, who could feel his pain from a mile away. She hesitated in fear of seeing her brother so more distraught than she had ever recalled before, yet still she decided to join them.

"Control what?" Brienne asked. "What happened?"

"I don't know . . . mother made me talk and I didn't want to tell her that we knew the truth but she insisted"  He struggled to get out. "Then I had another vision . . . it was . . . horrible,"

The anxious feeling that bubbled inside of Brienne was now overflowing like a pot of hot water. The guilt she wished to rid herself of came back, only this time it intensified by the thought of sharing something so tragic about her wife with their children.

"When it was all over, she was a mess. I tried to comfort her but she yelled at me and ran away"

The Lord Commander instructed her daughter to stay with Rickon to provide him some comfort while she looked for Sansa. Brienne's feet moved before her mind could begin to fully process what her son said. And although she wasn't fully aware of what happened, all she knew was that the Queen needed to be reminded that she was past that stage in her life

Her breaths came rapidly as feet roamed freely and her head swiveled around the castle grounds.. She checked inside all of the great rooms of the castle, the dining halls, the childrens rooms and no luck. Just as she was heading to look outside of the castle she heard someone shouting from the alley into Wintertown.

Brienne whipped around the corner to find the bright red hair of her wife, dancing in the wind as the woman's head hung low. Her back pressed against the walls that guarded her home and her hands sat over the sides of her head as she repeated unintelligible words in a scattered frantic manner. The Lord Commander approached the woman slowly, remembering that her son said they were forced to relive some of that night.

"Sansa, my love," Brienne kneeled in front of the Queen.

The redhead didn't look up, or do anything to acknowledge that someone else was with her now. Instead she continued to rock, and shake, and repeat words that Brienne still couldn't quite comprehend. She inched closer to Sansa, remembering to keep her hands to herself as she tried to find a way to help her wife out of it.

Finally, she giants the ground next to Sansa completely. She sat in silence, simply observing the event that was controlling her wife. A subtle spring breeze began to blow down the alley and cool the overwhelming hot face of Brienne. She was stressed and it took her a moment to realize that her wife's rambling was an attempt to convince herself

"It's me, my love. Brienne." She spoke again, still not getting a word from Sansa. "I know reliving that night must've been hard . . . and I know you won't ever forget about it . . . but what about ours?"

The nerves Sansa's silence brought upon Brienne began to intensify and a scary thought came along with it, one that involved never hearing her beautiful voice again. Her long pale fingers trembled nervously as she lifted her hand up in contemplation of touching Sansa. At first her touch was light, and when she noticed Sansa didn't react negatively, she applied a bit more pressure.

"I don't think I'll ever forget how beautiful you looked that night," Brienne said, looking at her with the same love she's held for all these years. "The way you wore your hair, the way your gown fell . . . it was all so perfect. I thanked the Old Gods a hundred times over for simply allowing me to kiss you in front of everyone."

Sansa' shaking had finally slowed, and then it stopped completely. Although she didn't make eye contact with her, Brienne could tell she was listening and that her words were finally starting to sink in.

"And what of all the death and pain that follows us everywhere?" Sansa asked quietly.

"My love, as much as I wish we could stop all the death and pain, we cannot." Brienne signed. "But I was there to protect you, I fought for you and all of Winterfell and returned to your side like I always have, like I always intend to. You're not there anymore, you are here with us... with your wife and our beautiful children"

"I'm not there anymore?" She asked.

"No, you are here with us, my love"

Sansa's bloodshot eyes connected with Brienne's before throwing her arms around the taller woman's neck, clinging to it as if she was drowning. In a way she was, stucking drowning in the very visual memories of a night she thought she had forgotten. Brienne caressed the back of the girl's head, feeling her soft silky hair as she clung to her just as tightly. The Queen sobbed against her wife's shoulder, dampening the sleeve as her tears slipped through the tiny gaps of armor.

"I thought I was past this . . . it happened so long ago, I just- I wish to forget about it all" Sansa exasperated.

"My love, that isn't something a woman ever gets over. I think it's something she learns to overcome day by day, and you've come so far since then. A minor setback doesn't discredit all of your progress." Brienne rubbed her shoulder.

Sansa could barely see through her tear lacquered eyes, yet still she could always feel the love that radiated off of her wife like heat from a fire. She placed her palm on her wifes pasty cheek and rubbed her thumb across the smooth pinkish skin. Sansa pulled Brienne in closely, closing her eyes just before their lips touched. They fit each other perfectly, like a hand to a glove.

"I love you" Sansa grinned with slight emotional exhaustion riddled to her expression .

"I love you too," Brienne replied.

The two sat against the stonewalling of someone's home for a while. Sansa wished to collect herself before returning to her position as the leader of the realm. They sat in each other's arms, watching the clouds in the sky rolly by as they listened to the beautiful tune of the birds before sunset.

The thought of their startled children began to rise to the surface of their minds. While Sansa wiped the remainder of her tears, Brienne rose to her feet and extended a hand out to her Queen. The Lord Commander personally saw to Sansa's return to her bed chambers and informed the necessary assistants that the Queen was feeling unwell and required a great deal of undisturbed rest. Any problems that did arise for the remainder of the day, were meant to be brought to the Lord Commander only.

Brienne placed a gentle temporary goodbye kiss on Sansa's head before turning to exit the room. As she walked back towards the fighting quarters the current emotional state of the Queen sat in the back of her mind. She felt somewhat guilty leaving her side, but Sansa insisted that they continue her children, and that she alert the children that she was fine.

Brienne's eyes grew wide in disbelief as she turned back into the grassy, semi-enclosed area. Her daughter was perfectly perched up on one of the wine barrels, smirking and laughing with the young squire whose hand lingered dangerously close to her leg. The Lord Commander grew slightly agitated in seeing the boy's drooling expression and her daughter's lust sunken eyes. Despite standing across the corridor, she knew what was happening, and she didn't approve of it.

"If you'd like to court my daughter, I think it'd be appropriate for you to speak with me first, boy," Brienne interrupted them with her bellowing voice.

Her tone startled the pair, especially Gabrin. The boy repelled backwards in an awkward unstable footing before falling straight to the ground. Ilizabeth hopped down from the barrel, now standing with a stiff and straight spine. She fidgeted with her fingers as she nervously watched her mother approach Gabrin.

To both of their surprises, instead of verbally expressing her anger towards the situation, she extended her hand out. He hesitated before accepting the help of the Lord Commander. She pulled him up with one tug, and watched amusingly as he dusted off his armor.

"Well?" Brienne waited for him to do as she asked. He looked at the Lord Commander without responding, completely puzzled by the stameet she made.

"I believe there is something you'd like to say to my mother, Gabrin . . .  about your . . . intentions" Ilizabeth grinned now pushing the boy forward.

"Right, right . . . um" The boy stuttered. His eyes traveled up the great stature of Brienne. As much as he wished that the sight of her didn't remind him of the fact that she could cut him down whenever she felt like it, it did. Ilizabeth gave him another slight nudge, knocking him out of his crippled state of fear.

"Your Grace, I would love to spend more time with the Princess. I think she's a wonderful girl and I believe in being your squire I can learn to fight properly and prove to you that I can not only make her happy, but keep her safe"

Internally Ilizabeth jumped up and down. She bounced so high that she finally got a feel of the bliss and fluffy clouds she watched in the sky everyday. But externally, she needed to keep her composure, just until the moment was over. Most men were afraid of her mother, and the dramatic thought of never meeting someone brave enough to face her terrified .

"Well, it's nice to hear that," Brienne agreed. "But, this cannot affect your squireship. You're here to earn your knighthood, and help my daughter learn to defend herself. Your completely appropriate relationship with her must be supervised, on your own time, at a decent hour"

"Thank You, Your Grace. I swear I will not disappoint you" Gabrin bowed, trying his best to not smile too hard.

Ilizabeth threw her arms around the boy, ignoring everything her mother just asked of separating their relationship and the training. She allowed for them to have their moment, before looking around the area for Rickon.

"Where's your brother? I needed to speak with him before we continued" Brienne asked, still searching.

"He said he needed to take a walk, clear his mind" She answered. "Is everything alright with him and mother?,"

"Yes everything is okay, my love."

Chapter Text

The chatter coming from behind the walls of Castle Winterfell settled as the moon took the sun's position for what would be the next several hours. While the townspeople readied their homes and children for bedtime, the Queens walked hand in hand through the torch lit halls of the Keep.

Anyone who typically roamed the halls at this hour had probably ran into them before, as they did this every night in an attempt to tire their minds before bed. Whilst on their way to say goodnight to the children, they took extra twists and turns in order to catch each other up on their very busy day. Although they ruled together, it didn't mean that they'd spend every waking moment together. No matter how badly they wished for it.

Being that it was on the same floor, the first stop was always at Ilizabeth's room. And as always, she decided to rest in the comfort of her twin brother's room. The concept of wanting to be around ones sibling as often as they wished was foreign to Brienne and Sansa. It was especially strange to Sansa being that when she was little she couldn't stand being around Arya or her younger brothers. Then again they didn't share a womb or clothing or diapers, or anything in the way the twins did.

"Those two are attached at the hip," Brienne stated.

"As usual . . ." Sansa trailed off. "Unless you think she's gone off with Gabrin?"

"What makes you say that?" Brienne stopped dead in her tracks.

Sansa tried to keep a serious face, but she failed miserably. Instead she laughed, loudly and obnoxiously as her wife held a look in opposition.

"You must think you're clever," Brienne rolled her eyes.

"I'm laughing, aren't I?" Sansa teased. She let a few more chuckles slip as she reattached her hand to Brienne's.

"You jest, but training with the two of them is nearly impossible." Brienne scoffed as they now turned in the other direction. "Always making eyes at one another, it's a distraction."

Sansa didn't respond, which her wife noticed. Brienne turned to her wife, now raising a brow. She took note of the redhead's expression, realizing that the silence was Sansa holding back her words.

"What is it?"

"They like each other, it's natural, my love. Sansa said. "Plus, I recall us doing the same,"

"Us? When?" Brienne questioned.

"When you and Podrick spent your days training, I'd stand on the balcony watching you for hours," Sansa grinned. "I remember thinking swordplay was quite boring until I watched you do it,"

"I must be good then, " She replied with a sarcastic gloat.

"It wasn't that per se, although you are an excellent swordsman, my love. I just think it was because I was captivated by you. Back then, I'd watch you use the chamber pot if you allowed, I just wanted to be near you," Sansa explained.

"The chamber pot?" Brienne let out a dry laugh. "I love you too but, maybe not that much,"

That comment earned her shove. Sansa barely put any actual effort into sending her back but even if she had, the Lord Commander was often an immovable force. They walked down the stairs in silence allowing for the sound of crackling flame from the torches, and the pitter of their shoes to echo through the stairwell.

"Am I the only woman you've ever loved?" Brienne blurted.

Sansa felt her heart stop for a moment. She was a bit taken aback by a question like that, and even more because she had never really thought about it before. Although they were now standing outside their son's bedchamber, Sansa figured she should still answer it.

It was hard to think about loving someone in the way she loved Brienne, and not just because her pickings were awful. But because this was the life she always pictured for herself. When she was a little girl, she'd always bombard her mother with millions of questions all pertaining to when her knight in shining armor would arrive. After her mother reminded her of all the time she had left to worry about that, she'd fall asleep and dream of him and their children together.

Then when she was exposed to the harsh reality of men, her dream was painted on a canvas to act as nothing more than a taunting decorative piece, an inanimate unobtainable memory. When it came to women, she could only think of those who were kind during her time in King's Landing, and she didn't want to confuse love for gratitude.

Still she just couldn't help but think that even if she did love another with the smallest sliver of her being, what other love could compare to the one she has now?

"Yes. But, I've never loved anyone the way I love you," She responded simply. "How does that make you feel?"

"Good" Brienne laughed lightly.

Sansa knocked on her son's door with a lingering smile. Spring had come and gone like a sun shower and the drastic drop in temperature suggested that Autumn was nearing its annual end too. The night air became so cold that it created goosebumps on both of their arms and legs the longer they remained in the hall where there was little heat. They shivered as they waited for the ascending footsteps to arrive at the door.

Rickon answered with his hair still in the braid Sansa did for him earlier, and the very lavish pajama set King Bran sent as a gift for their name day. They both noticed something different about the boy. It had something to do with the way he was smiling, the way the corners of his mouth stretched to the point where his cheeks practically closed his eyes. He seemed happy, and that was all either of them wanted from him.

Rickon held the door open wide and dramatically bowed as they entered. As soon as it closed behind them, he chuckled himself back over the foot of the bed and flopped down beside Ilizabeth. She laid on her stomach, in the matching nightgown she received from her uncle, kicking her feet in the air as she read her book.

"What are you two doing in here?" Sansa asked.

"Rickon was just telling me about Ser Eddam's tumble today," Ilizabeth giggled. "I hear it was quite the fall,"

The two burst out into a contagious laughter, one that even brought a smile to Brienne's face. As Sansa moved further into the room she traced her hand along the edge of the fireplace. Her gaze fell upon the tapestry with the weirwood etched into it. It was an exact replica of the one hung in the Great Hall. Rickon enjoyed feeling the spirit of the Old Gods in his presence, and having it in his room made him feel safe.

"It's getting late, you can share your stories in the morning," Brienne said. "And when will you start sleeping in your own chambers?"

"Not until I'm wed to Ser Gabrin," Ilizabeth chuckled.

"I guess it's okay if you wish to sleep here forever then," Brienne remarked.

Rickon looked to Ilizabeth, who dropped the smile on her face faster than a steaming piece of freshly baked bread, and threw his head back in another fit of laughter. Sansa shook her head in a jokingly disapproving manner. As much as she hated their back and forth, she too found it slightly humorous.

"Alright well, we just came to kiss you goodnight" Sansa interrupted their laughter.

She moved back across the room, and held a few of her auburn strands back as she leaned over to kiss the back top of Ilizabeth's head, then she moved to the other side and kissed her son on the forehead. Normally the kids would complain about how their mothers still treated them like babes on occasion, but lately they've grown appreciative of the relationship they all have together. Brienne followed behind her wife, kissing her children in the same manner before going to hold the door open for the Queen.

"Goodnight!"  The children called out simultaneously.

As soon as Brienne closed the door behind them, the muffled sound of their voices poured through the cracks of the door and into the hall. They lingered for a moment, listening amusingly as they went on about whatever silly thing they found humorous for the moment.

The Queens' walked back through the halls and up the stairwell which were all now completely empty. As they returned to their bedchamber they practically undid their clothes and shoes in the halls. This day seemed to be quite long and tiring, and they couldn't wait to slip into the comfort of each other's arms, in their own bed. They managed to slip into their night clothes quicker than they were able to get out of their day ones, now assembling on opposite sides of the bed.

Sansa pulled back the fuzzy warm fur bed covering, then the regular sheets before finally sliding underneath them feet first. Brienne lit a few of the candles that sat in the metal holders at their bedside table. Seeing as to how they weren't ready to go to sleep just yet, they wished for some light to remain. She then tossed the thin wooden stick used to light candles into the firepit and returned to bed with the growing crackle of the fire looming behind her.

Brienne wrapped her large arms around the thin long body of the younger woman, practically melting in her floral scent, and warm embrace. Sansa laid with her head against the breathable blue linen of Brienne's night top and her hand slightly balled up resting against the blonde's stomach. Her body naturally released all of the tension built up throughout the day, as it often did when she returned to her wifes nightly embrace.

"Winter's right around the corner" Sansa broke the silence.

"I know, the seasons come and go so fast" Brienne responded clearly avoiding her wifes true intentions in saying those words.

"That makes year fifteen," She said.

"I know,"

Brienne was unsure of what else she was supposed to say. Everything they've ever thought, felt, or even uttered, has been discussed through and through. They couldn't stop time, and unfortunately their clock counting down to the day was inching dangerously close to the end. They both went uncomfortably quiet now allowing for the winds and flames to take up the space.

"Jon will take good care of her. And her swordplay is coming along. She will be fine" Brienne said almost sounding as if she was trying to convince herself as well

"I know," Sansa replied.

The topic of Ilizabeth and the children's fifteenth name day died quicker than an underkept fire. Another wave of silence washed through the room. Only this one was comfortable, so comfortable that Brienne's eyelids began to feel heavy. All the intense training she did with both Gabrin and Ilizabeth began to catch up to her. She realized she was truly growing older the moment she started to remain sore after her bath. She didn't even bother trying to fight it off and just as her eyes closed fully, Sansa spoke again.

"I've been meaning to ask you something . . . it's about Rickon"

"Huh?" Brienne responded, quickly darting her eyes open.

"I'm sorry, were you falling asleep?" Sansa looked up towards Brienne.

"No, no. Go ahead, my love" Brienne rubbed her shoulder gently. "What were you going to say?"

"Rickon, do you think he's . . . like us?" Sansa questioned. She took Brienne's hesitation to respond for a need of clarification on what she meant. "You know, what I mean"

"I'm afraid I don't, my love" Brienne's eyebrows furrowed in complete confusion.

"Do you think he fancies boys? Like in the way we see each other?"

She hesitated once again. Brienne honestly didn't think much about it. She'd be lying if she were to say she didn't understand why Sansa was asking the question. But her only concern was if the boy was happy, and it seemed as if he was, so she never pushed any further. She took note of squeaky tone of voice, the way he cared for others, the way he enjoyed wearing his hair and playing the lyre in the Godswoods. But still something inside told her that this was just who he was, and it didn't equate to anything until he said so.

"Honestly, I'm not sure," Brienne answered. "Do you?"

"I think so," She spoke honestly. "And of course I will always love him the same. But, do you think our relationship has anything to do with his . . . desires."

"I really don't think it works that way, my love. We cannot help who we love. Whether they are man or woman"

"You're right. I don't know why I asked that," Sansa nodded.

"You asked because as much as we feel like what we have here is normal, the entire history of the realm suggests otherwise. The thought of Rickon going down that path is scary," Brienne said.

"My only concern is that if Rickon is only interested in the company of other men, he will not produce an heir. A king with no heirs leaves our line of succession too vulnerable,"

"Rickon hardly shows any interest in being King," Brienne added.

"You make it sound as if he has a choice in the matter," Sansa chuckled lightly.

"Ilizabeth was born first,"

"But she's already told us she doesn't want it," Sansa responded, now sitting up. She turned to face Brienne in complete confusion of the conversation they were having. "What are you saying?"

"I'm not saying anything, I just think maybe we should have a proper converstion about all of this before starting to worry," Brienne suggested.

"I am unsure as to whether or not inquiring is a good idea. Rickon can become quite . . . sensitive when it comes to us talking about him being . . . feminine" Sansa added. "But he is next in the line of succession,"

"Why does it sound as if you are against our own daughter?" Brienne responded with a hint of annoyance in her tone.

Sansa's jaw fell so low that it practically hit the ground. She looked at Brienne in complete disbelief, not understanding how the conversation took such a drastic turn. Her wife readjusted her position, now sitting with her back against the headboard.

"How could you say something like that?" Sansa said, sounding somewhat hurt.

"You implied that Rickon doesn't have a choice,"

"He is the only one left, Brienne" Sansa argued. "And he has never told us he didn't want to be King,"

"I was only saying that if Rickon truly does end up not wanting to be King, or winds up in a position where he cannot fulfill his duty to the realm, what makes you think Ilizabeth couldn't do it?"

"I don't think Ilizabeth is incapable of ruling, why do you keep saying that?" Sansa continued. Her face was beginning to turn red with frustration.

"Let us not forget that the only reason I am Queen is because Bran is King, Jon gave it up, and my other two brothers were killed. I had to go through four male heirs before winding up here. Is that what you want for Ilizabeth, a dead brother? No remaining family?"

"No, that's not what I'm trying to say," Brienne sighed.

"I think I know exactly what you are trying to say."

Sansa flung the bed sheets back and hoisted herself out of bed. Just as she began wracking her mind for a warm quiet place to storm off to, the sound of rumbling footsteps came from behind the door. She turned to face Brienne, who was already on her feet moving to stand in front of her wife for protection. Their bedroom door flew open, revealing the sudden dash toward them to be the footsteps of their children.

Brienne and Sansa let out a frustrated sigh simultaneously as they watched their children slam the door behind them. They rushed towards the foot of the bed, and plopped down panting so loud that the strange animosity in the room almost missed their adolescent minds completely. Their gaze fell upon the women who now stood with a couple of feet between them and their eyebrows furrowed in completely.

"What's going on here?" Rickon asked sarcastically. No one said a word. "Okay . . ."

"Were you two fighting?" Ilizabeth asked.

"No," They responded simultaneously.

The twins exchanged an unconvinced look, then they looked back at their mothers.

"I'll take that as a yes," Rickon chimed in.

"What about?" Ilizabeth asked.

"Nothing," Sansa answered.

"What are you two doing in here, it's late" Brienne said pressing her thumb and index finger between her stressed brows.

Both Brienne and Sansa returned to their sides of the bed. They tucked themselves back under the covers barely looking at one another. Both parties were hurt, and this wasn't something they were going to get through without seriously discussing its underlying concerns first.

"I saw something tonight!" Ilizabeth exclaimed.

"What?" Brienne and Sansa reacted in unison.

"I did that thing! I- I warfed!" Ilizabeth spoke incorrectly.

"You warged," Brienne corrected her. "What did you see?"

Sansa curled her legs up to her chest. Although a part of her was just a little bit chilly, most of it came from the anxious anticipation of her daughter's next words.

"I'm not sure. I believe it was the inside of a tower or a castle . . . a structure of some sort. I could see outside a little, but my vision was so hazy and these enormous trees covered in piles of snow blocked everything." Ilizabeth explained to them.

"Were you able to move around at all, gain a better sense of where you were?" Brienne asked.

"No. But I had this really strange feeling"

"What was it?"

"The snow is supposed to be cold, but it was burning hot. Hotter than it was in Tarth,"

"Do you know what you are?" Sansa finally spoke.

"I can't tell," Ilizabeth replied.

Sansa faced her wife, now questioning whether or not they should wake Jon. Being that the man had spent more time with people of these abilities, she figured maybe he would know more. Brienne figured it would be best to gather intel from Jon, but there was no need to wake him up in the midst of the night for something non-emergent, and Sansa agreed.

"I read in one of the journals on the ship that they had a crew member who could warg into a sea creature. He talked about how dark it was down there, and all the scary looking things waiting to eat people alive" Rickon added.

All eyes fell on him, wondering why he felt the need to add such a dark and gruesome tale to the aroma.

"I just mean to say, what if it's something brilliant? The first time you warged you couldn't see anything. Maybe you're a sea creature, too"

"How do I go back!" Ilizabeth exclaimed to her mothers.

"We don't know my love. When I found out about your Uncle Bran, I barely had time to speak with him about it. All I know is he could warg into his direwolf, and ravens. He could control it but I'm not sure what lengths he went to, to learn how" Sansa told the girl everything she knew.

Ilizabeth and Rickon's expressions fell slightly in a frown. They were eager to learn more about both of their new abilities. Rickon even recalled the village Brienne took Sansa to when she became ill with baby blues. He remembered her mentioning the entire community wargs arg, they figured, but Brienne knew less than Sansa. The woman reflected on her demeanor during those times, and how her attention really didn't extend beyond the Queen to which everyone could understand.

It wasn't long before Brienne sent their overly excited children back to bed. She requested they extinguish all of the flames, except for the firepit upon their exit so they could get some rest.

As the darkness resumed, Sansa now found herself fully awake. Small beads of sweat began to form on her forehead as she thought more about how stupid their argument was. Brienne could sense the shifting in Sansa's energy, even in the pitch black darkness. Her right hand fell on the bare part of her thigh where the dress had rolled up as she shifted around the bed. Brienne caressed the smooth skin with her thumb before speaking.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have implied that you think Ilizabeth is incapable. It was stupid," Brienne apologized.

"It's okay. You just want Rickon to have a say in his life, the same way we did. I should've been more willing to hear you," Sansa apologized too.

The couple shared a small kiss before resorting back to the cuddled up position they were in just before the argument. They thought about how difficult raising children truly was, especially twins born from blood magic, who both just so happen to have magical abilities. Every wonderful thing that was added to their personality was another thing the Queens would have to worry about, and sometimes that caused them to fight.

"We'll talk to Jon about it in the morning. Warging is just another ability that could keep her safe out there" Brienne spoke looking into the darkness of Sansa's direction.

"I know" Sansa responded. "Let's just try and get some sleep"

Sansa turned to her side, folding her hands flatly as she stuck them between her face and the pillow. The Lord Commander spooned behind the smaller girl before throwing her left arm over her waist and intertwining their legs. Within a few moments they were both sound asleep, floating in a land of dreams.

Chapter Text

The weeks in the world of Westeros went by faster than some would have liked. The days grew shorter, the air grew colder, and the grass was now covered in at least five thick inches of pure white snow. While the Queens' of the North did their best to prepare themselves for their daughter's departure, Rickon gained some control over his visions.

He spent most of his time with Ser Malson. Although their situation finally began to churn into something of higher tolerance, the boy still found himself dreading the mornings where they would do nothing but chase cattle. The man rambled on about how swordplay required agility, and somehow he planned to teach Rickon that through observing the livestock.

His sister was not as fortunate when it came to controlling her ability. She hadn't been back inside the creature beyond the remains since that night. Which rendered her restless. Of course she continued to train with Brienne and Gabrin, and improved tremendously in a rather short period of time. She was finally given a chance to wield an actual sword, and proved to have the potential to be one of the greats with just three swift cuts. Although it was hard to admit, Brienne knew her daughter was as prepared as she would ever be, and that meant finally seeing her off.

The Stark family remained occupied with a multitude of tasks set for each day until today. From the moment the sun rose on this beautifully brisk day of white the people of Winterfell practically pranced around the town in a celebratory manner. The high spirit floated through every man, woman, boy, and girl as they gathered into the Great Hall for the twins' fifteenth name day.

From the aching feet of the common people born in the narrow alleyways of Wintertown, to the over inflated heads of every highborn who made it just in time for the feast and wine. For this day and this day only, it didn't matter where you came from or where you were going because the Queens' ensured this would be a day worth enjoying for everyone.

Although their infectious rays of smiles were strong enough to inflict even the evilest of people, it couldn't quite penetrate through the faces of Brienne and Sansa. Instead of sharing sesntional celebratoy feeling the townsmen felt, their expressions rendered spacious and still, as if a grande sense of permanent absence loomed over them. Like a singular grey cloud threatening them with its death riddled strikes of lightning and its ear splitting thunderous cries.

The Queens remained inside their bedchamber with the two handmaidens who helped prepare them for the celebration. They'd been inside for longer than they were meant, but who in the realm would question their tardiness. The sound of the thick woolen fabric rustling together swished like the leaves in a forest as Lena and Maedalyn zipped through the room.f

Sat somewhat absent-mindedly in a chair facing the large bed frame was Queen Sansa. Her head followed in whatever direction Lena tugged as she began to braid some of Sansa's hair neatly. Despite the Queen not having many words for Lena at this moment, she knew how important it was that the traditional northern braids that sat elegantly above the ears of the Queen are nothing short of perfection.

Lena's stomach gurgled while her mind pondered for the right words to speak. Something to pull the Queen's mind from a pit of nothing but overt fear and worry, but she came up with nothing. So she remained silent, and worked profusely to aid the Queen in any other way she could. She helped Sansa into the black feather embroidered gown that she spent weeks making, and tied all ten bows tightly at the back of the corset.

The dark black hue allowed her pale porcelain skin, pool blue eyes, and fiery red hair to stand out like a golden coin tossed into a pile of silver. Which was suitable for a Queen. The Lord Commander sat just as absently on the left side of the bed. Having spent a copious amount of time curating swear words to hurl at Maedalyn for simply asking whether or not she wanted to wear her crown, then being forced to apologize by her appalled wife, Brienne felt a loss for direction.

No matter how many fits she threw, or curses of protest she swore, Ilizabeth would be gone by the time the next day rolled around, and there was nothing anyone could do.

Being that she never did much with her hair anyways, she allowed for the handmaiden to brush through it, illuminating the loosely fallen curls of her whiteish blonde mane. Dressed in a very thick grey woolen doublet with deep maroon leather cuffs, hand gloves, and a black overcoat with multicolored fur lined around the collar, Brienne looked much bigger than she already was. That sort of height and stature, mixed with a crown, it reeked of power and poise, and the people of Winterfell grew to love that about her.

"Alright, I've finished, Your Grace" Lena's hands dropped to her waist. She held the mirror out in front of Sansa's face, allowing for her to see the styling she had just completed.

"It looks lovely. Thank You, Lena." Sansa smiled politely. "You two can go ahead and get ready for the celebration. I see no reason for you to miss out on a day like today" She spoke now addressing the only two servants in the room.

The women bowed respectfully before exiting the room, squealing in excitement. Brienne now rose to her feet, placing her head at the same height of the top of the bedpost and walked over to her wife. The light tapping of her shoes against the stone floor filled the silence in the room, then she stopped. The corners of her mouth turned upwards as her eyes took in the pure beauty of her wife.

She felt like everytime she looked at the woman, there was something new to love. Just yesterday she noticed a vein that would sometimes pulse in the middle of the woman's head whenever she spoke with speed and passion. It most likely formed from a mixture of both age and stress from being a Queen and a mother, and while most would see lines on one's face and think it was a sign of decaying youth and beauty. Brienne thought it to be another thing she'd add to her pile of reasons for loving her wife.

Still in complete silence, Brienne stood over her. Sansa slipped her dainty hands into the strong veiny hands of her wife before looking up to make eye contact.

"How are you still so beautiful after all these years?" Brienne asked before pressing a dry kiss onto her forehead.

"You are too charming, my love," Sansa blushed. "And what about you, how have you been able to remain so beautiful?"

Just as Brienne fixed her lips to speak again, they were interrupted by the sound of feet pounding against the pavement. They grew closer and closer until they stopped just outside of the wooden door that enclosed their bed chambers. The cluttering of shoes to stone was replaced with a multitude of hollow thuds banging against the wood.

Rickon and Ilizabeth bounced up and down outside, their minds clearly infested with the joyous radiation that took over Winterfell. Their throaty hysterical laughs seeped into the room as they continued to pound on the door with the sole intent of agitating their mothers.

"They seem excited for today," Sansa laughed.

"Why must they be so loud?" Brienne shook her head while moving to open the door.

The creaking of the wooden door came and went as Brienne yanked the door open. She stared at the twins who suddenly ceased the boom noise they created. As difficult as today would be for the Queens', they couldn't help but be swept up by the goofy grins plastered to the twins' faces. Ilizabeth stood on the left, rocking back and forth impatiently in her light cadet blue gown.

Sansa spent weeks hand stitching the small white snowflakes embroidered into the material that covered Ily's midriff. She made sure to have the sleeves extend past her wrist a few inches, just like the girl had asked her to. She even had the fur that lined the overcoat dyed to match the same shade of blue as the rest of the outfit.

Both Sansa and Ilizabeth realized that this was one of her best colors, especially because of her light hair and skin, and when she stood out in the snow she almost looked like an Ice Princess. And to the right towering over his sister like usual was Rickon, his outfit very similar to his mother Brienne. Only the outfit was made of more sleek brown leather than thick black wool, and there was an 'X' made of the same leather material only lacquered a few shades darker, plastered to the chestplate of the doublet. His fiery red curls were pulled back into a low bun, one that both him and his sister struggled to assemble neatly.

"You both look marvelous" Sansa cooed at her children as if they were newborn babes all over again.

"Thank you, mother," They replied simultaneously.

"Can we head down now, everyone's waiting for us!" Rickon exclaimed.

"Aye, go on. We're right behind you" Brienne shooed them out the door frame.

Brienne held the door open and waited for the children and Sansa to exit the room before closing it behind them. The knights guarding the hallway assembled behind the Stark family one by one. As the group marched through the snow in unison, the sound of crunching snow echoed endlessly throughout the castle grounds.

The knights guided the family past the Sept and to the front doors of the Great Hall where the muffled chatter pouring out from behind the door began to unnerve the twins. Twoo knights assembled by the door and opened it wide. The loud eeeeeeeer of the doors notified the people that the royal family had finally arrived.

For a moment the room fell silent only leaving room for the whispers of Winterfell's ghosts to howl, before they had bursted out in roars and applause in excitement. As Rickon and Ilizabeth took their first steps into the big rectangular shaped room, their faces began to flare in response to the level of attention received. They scanned the faces of every Lord and Lady in attendance. Knights, commoners, blacksmiths, squires, women, children, elderly, it seemed all of the North packed into this room as if it were the last ship to Braavos.

Brienne and Sansa followed behind the children with their inner arms interlocked, and their outer ones extended to wave to the people. The brief stroll to the table consisted of loud, enthusiastic shouts of praise and congratulations. The four walked up the small flight of steps, onto the platform where the table was raised and sat down in the order they always did; Brienne, Sansa, Ilizabeth, Rickon.

The buzzing chatter of the crowd settled as they waited for one of the Queens to officially commence the feast for the celebration. As Sansa looked over to her children who sat with the same wide eyed, goofy grinned expression from before, a brilliant idea struck like lightning.

"I think the two of you should start the commencement on your own this year," Sansa placed her hand on top of Ilizabeths.

"Really?" Ilizabeth replied excitedly.

"Take this seriously, both of you." Brienne remained stern as usual.

"I will, mother" She scoffed playfully at her comment.

"I'm nervous," Rickon confessed, his face now turning to a greenish hue.

"You'll do fine. There's no need to be nervous, you both are very smart and very kind." Brienne reminded them.

"I'm sure you'll find the right words," Sansa added.

The twins exchanged a look of support before standing up simultaneously. They often moved at the same time, in the same exact manner. It used to freak out the Maester and handmaidens, and even themselves. But the older they grew the more they loved their untimely syncopation.

The sudden shock of seeing the Prince and Princess standing was enough to silence the crowd without the help of the hornboy. Rickons palms went warm and wet, the sound of his heartbeat now resonated in his ears, and the internal warmth that flushed his face refused to leave from the moment he stepped into the room. Ilizabeth noticed her brother's slightly panicked expression and took it upon herself to start the ceremony.

"Welcome everyone! Words cannot begin to express how grateful we are to have all of you present in celebrating Rickon and I's fifteenth name day!" Ilizabeth smiled brightly. The crowd clapped and roared in positive response to Ilizabeth. "My brother and I would not be standing here today if not for your family's bravery during the hardest of times. You have shown nothing but courage and for that, I raise my cup in honor of you and everyone we've lost"

Brienne and Sansa smiled proudly whilst raising their cups along with the rest. They were impressed with how naturally this all came to the girl, and in some small way it reassured them that she would be okay with holding her on. She took after Sansa when it came to speaking to the public, while, just like Brienne, Rickon had to work twice as hard to sometimes only end up with half the courage.

The boy began to feel his knees wiggle like the pudding he snuck into his bed chamber last night. Tiny beads of sweat formulated underneath his hairline and his fingers tapped against the side of his leg erratically. Ilizabeth tried to give him a look of reassurance but he barely even noticed she was still there.

In his eyes, he stood up on that platform alone. His face well lit from the flame tipped candles and torches plastered all around the room. With the people's eyes stuck to him like glue. As if he were a performance, one they were getting ready to laugh and throw tomatoes at. He cleared his throat with two ahem - hems and opened his mouth slightly.

"Grand Maester Horden reminds me annually, that what man sows on his name day, he reaps throughout the year and I thought the best way to ensure that we all have a good year is by making sure you are all taken care of." He paused.

"I've managed to set aside time with the builders, seamstress', and cooks to ensure that for the rest of Winter they are at your very beck and call. If any of you need anything do not hesitate to come to our door. Please enjoy the wine and the feast. Eat and drink till your bellies burst. And once again, thank you!"

The Northerners roared once more, now exchanging their chalices for forks before thrusting them in the air. They caught a whiff of the piping hot mutton stew being carried out by the servants, and quickly returned to their seats. Most used the utensils they were given, while others savagely picked up the bowl and slurped from the brim loudly.

As they began to bring out the suckling pig, kidney pies, cakes the Stark family already began to feel their bellies swell. Sansa held the gold rimmed cup up to her lips and washed the oniony taste from her palette with the rich sweet nectar wine. Once the servants swept in to remove the empty plates, many began to line up in preparation of presenting the Prince and Princess with gifts.

The first person to fall in line was Lady Lyessa of House Flint. It had been a year since the Starks last saw her, and every year seemed to age her appearance by three. Despite having around sixty years, the ratio of silver strands to brown would suggest she was on the brink of death. She presented the Princess with an emerald necklace, and the Prince with a wooden wolf she carved herself. It didn't resemble anything as ferocious as the crowned one on their banners, but the gesture was still appreciated.

Next was Nera, who approached the table holding something in her clenched left fist. After Ilizabeth told her she was leaving, the girl cried in her arms for over an hour. Ilizabeth hated the way things changed so quickly. She'd spent her whole life right beside Nera, and when the current year comes to a close she'll have left Winterfell twice and spent most of her days training. Nera was more than understanding, but still Ilizabeth felt guilt.

Her face was long, her nose short and pointy, and her teeth slightly tinted gold with a decent amount of space in between them. Her dull black gown fell down to her ankles and was sleeveless, allowing for the thick wool grey long sleeve undershirt she wore to add variety to her plain clothes. In front of the Starks, she looked homely, but still she always remained confident.

"Good evening, Your Grace," She smiled widely while bowing, "Your Grace. Thank you for inviting us inside for this wonderful celebration. Everything is rather lovely,"

"You are quite welcome, Nera," Sansa responded.

"We should be the ones giving you many thanks. For years you have been an honest, loyal, and true consultant and friend to our daughter. Our family is very lucky to have you," Brienne added.

"I shall wear that with great pride, Your Grace," Nera said. "My gift to the two of you is a bit more intimate, I hope that is okay," She unclenched her fist and revealed three shiny gold rings. Their bands were thin and the gem was grey and oval shaped.

"I've been saving coins my father and mother give to me in hopes to get you these for your sixteenth for two years now. Father gave me extra so I could have them in time a year early,"

She moved closer to the platform and stretched out to hand them the rings. The twins took them and slid them onto their right ring fingers simultaneously. Ilizabeth looked at her dear friend, now feeling the sudden urge to break into a million pieces and start sobbing. Apart from her wanting to refuse the gift, she knew how expensive a gift like that could be, but she also knew Nera would only insist.

“With these rings, I vow that the three of us shall be best friends until our very last day,” She grew teary eyed while putting hers on.

“Thank you, Nera,” Rickon said.

After promising to find the girl sometime later in the evening they continued to receive their guests and gifts. Next were the Manderlys, then the Karstarks. The servants zipped back and forth, quickly taking everything up to their chambers and rushing back. To the Starks surprise, Jon had miraculously found his way to the front of the line. Being that he left Winterfell for unknown reasons well over a week ago, none of them were able to anticipate a return date.

His doublet was sleek and so was his hair, just like Rickons. He looked up at the royal table with a half a smile, struggling to hold the three furballs he had in his arms. They were tiny, and let out high pitched yips as they tried to squirm their way out of his grasp. Ilizabeth and Rickon stood with the widest grin anyone had seen all evening. Their eyes went wide in response to their brain finally processing the two direwolves in front of them.

"I found them further North. They're my gift to the two of you" Jon said. "And for you, Sansa."

Sansa's eyes fell upon the small pup in Jon's arms. Although its coat was more solid than Lady's, it still managed to resemble the late wolf in some manner. Many years would pass, and often they went by with Sansa only thinking of Lady once, if ever. Still, she appreciated the gesture whole heartedly.

"Please forgive me, Your Grace. I would have brought back another, but there were only three." Jon apologized to Brienne. "You are a Stark after all,"

"Nonsense, they are for the Stark children," Brienne smiled as she placed her hand over Sansa's. "Your kind words are greatly appreciated, Jon"

Ilizabeth and Rickon resumed their dash down the stairs. The sound of their feet clattering against the wood paired with their screams grabbed the attention of everyone nearby. One by one the people's attention fell upon the two little pups in their arms.

Without giving it a single thought, the children grabbed the ones they felt 'called' to them. Rickons was all black, with bright blue eyes and a decent amount of size on Ilizabeths. Her wolf had a mixed color coat. It was mostly white, with splotches of brown and black on its back, tail, and ears, and had yellow eyes.

"That one's a boy," He gestured to the one Ilizabeth was holding. "He's meant to be Rickons"

"It does not matter. I want this one," Ilizabeth responded, stroking his soft fur.

"Yes, I am also in agreement with this arrangement, Uncle," Rickon said, barely able to take his eyes off his. "I shall name her . . . Wolfie! No, that's stupid . . . How about Pretty . . . or Sapphire?,"

"Sapphire," Jon laughed, still holding the last. “That's a good name,”

"Rickon, what do you think of Winter? Does he look like a 'Winter' to you?"

"I like Winter, or maybe even Storm?"

“I think I like Winter better,” She gleamed.

The children practically ascended to a different universe. They were too excited to notice that there were a few noble house representatives still waiting in line, and as much as Brienne tried to redirect their attention, it failed. She ordered the servants to collect the remainder of the gifts while being sure to thank each and every one of them for their kindness.

Sansa had finally made her way down the stairs as well. She lifted the grey wolf out of his arms and lifted him up. The second her gaze fell on its tiny, scrunched up face she practically melted away.

"She seemed like the leader of the three,"Jon smiled, pointing at Sansa's wolf. He took a step closer and spoke lowly, "If any of us deserved a second one, it's you,"

"Thank you," Sansa pulled her brother into a tight embrace.

As much as Sansa would have loved to keep them all here for the remainder of the celebration, they were too small and required extra attention they weren't able to give right now. She ordered for one of the servants to take them into a room and watch over them until she returned.

While the three assembled back behind the royal table, Brienne motioned for the musicians to continue playing. The room quaked as every Northern rose to their feet. They wrapped their arms around each other and drunkenly began to sing and cheer. Just when Sansa expected her family to cease all ability to contain the desire to dance, she noticed the young Gabrin Dawgherty making his way through the crowd.

She raised an eyebrow and smirked in somewhat shock of the courage he managed to muster up. His slicked back,curly dark hair reminded her of Jon when he was young, only Gabrin was much taller, and wasn't as brooding.

Sansa could practically feel the scratchy sporadic stubble on his face from across the table. The symbol of a man full grown, one that Sansa was sure her daughter found captivating. He stopped a few feet from the table and angled his gaze up slightly towards the four. His big, nervous, doe eyed gaze inevitably diverted to Brienne, who held a less innocent stare back.

"Good Evening, You Grace." He bowed towards Brienne then to Sansa, "Your Grace,"

"Good Evening Gabrin, are you enjoying yourself?" Sansa tried to speak over the booming volume as best she could.

"Yes, Your Grace. The food was excellent" He smiled, flashing his clean teeth. "Congratulations on your fifteenth name day my Prince, my Princess"

He bowed once more, only this time when he came up his eyes locked with Ilizabeth. All the commotion in the room seemed to vanish along with her brother and mothers'. Leaving him and the girl he'd grown attached to over the last several months they spent together.

After speaking with Brienne, they found themselves walking the Glass Garden weekly. Of course, Ser Krystane was required to chaperone them and whenever he became distracted with his tightly fitted armor they'd hold hands, and whisper sweet nothings to one another.

Between that and being necessary part of her daily swordplay lessons, he would confidently claim that he had fallen madly in love with her. Yet, one could only imagine the sound his glass blown heart left with when it shattered in finallying hearing the reason she'd been training.

He was the second person she'd ever told about her conception, the first being Nera a few hours earlier. Although he remained in awe of blood magic and its powerful existence, he responded in a manner she didn't expect. He was kind, and accepting, something she feared she would never receive from those outside her kinfolk.

He asked to accompany her, to which she declined. The boy was only but a squire, and she didn't want him to lose the opportunity to train with one of the greatest swordsmen in Westeros history.

"You look lovely, Princess," He complimented her nervously.

"Thank You, Gabrin" Ilizabeth leaned forward. He grew visibly overwhelmed at the way she looked at him, now diverting his eyes to his fidgeting hands.

"Is that all you've come to say?" Brienne interrupted their moment.

"Mother!" Ilizabeth gasped.

A few drops of water slipped from Rickon's mouth as he chuckled at his sister's uncomfortability. She shot him a stern look and slapped his leg lightly before returning her attention back to the boy.

"I was actually wondering if I could have a moment alone with Ilizabeth. I have something I'd like to give her in private, Your Grace," Gabrin spoke confidently.

Ilizabeth's heart began to feel the pounding of her heart rising to her ears. She admired the way he was able to speak courageously, but knew he remained unaware of how his wording implied something else.

"And what is it that you wish to give my daughter in private?" She leaned forward. He didn't think her expression could grow any colder, but it did.

"Oh- oh, nothing like that, I only meant a gift. It's something I made," He stuttered.

"Of course," Sansa interjected. "Go on, Ily,"

Ilizabeth jumped back on her feet, now raising her gown as she flew down the steps excitedly. She took his calloused hand into hers and snaked her way through the crowd until they were hit with the cool night breeze. The chatter from inside the hall grew muffled the further they walked from the door.

He didn't take her far, being that almost everyone in Winterfell was shoved into the Hall, there was no need to venture out for privacy. As they sat before the luminating light of the moon and stars against the white ground, before the Old Gods whose voices lingered through the breeze, before the castle that protected them from what seemed like the world, Ser Gabrin pulled out a circular pin.

The dingy brownish grey rust stained the Princesses fingers as she held it between her index and thumb. The crowned wolf that was printed on every banner, seal, and piece of armor at castle WInterfell, sat howling underneath both the sun and moon. Although the microscopic sun and moon were hard to see, she recognized their shapes to be in resemblance to the ones of her other mothers' sigil, House Tarth.

"I love it," Ilizabeth smiled at it widely.

"It's for your overcoat, you can pin the ends together with this. Although you're a Stark I'd like to think I see a lot more of Queen Brienne in you" He responded.

Ilizabeth threw her arms around his neck, grinning so hard that her cheeks began to burn. As she felt his hands slither gently around her waist like a snake in a garden, she caught a whiff of the lingering onion stench he slightly reeked of. Normally she would be repulsed but she knew he had been incredibly busy acting as Brienne's squire today.

She figured only the truest form of love could be so strong that it distracted one into forgetting to bathe. Her heart pounded against her chest like a horse's hooves did to the ground, a rhythmic pumping that sent blood rushing to her cheeks, thus making them bright and rosy.

As Gabrin began to pull back, he found his hands brushing against the fabric that covered Ilizabeths arms, his wood tinted eyes searching her pools of blue for a sign that said it was okay to do what he was thinking.

"Ilizabeth, I want you to be mine one day" He confessed.

"And I want to be yours," Ilizabeth spoke dreamily.

He took her cheeks into both hands, lifting her face up just enough to connect his lips to hers. Suddenly she felt the sparks, the butterfly flutters, the dreamy feeling her mothers' told her to wait for. With her eyes closed, her hands at her side, and her balance resting on the tips of her toes, Ilizabeth began to feel like she was drifting away.

She imagined herself doing this with him forever, a kiss for when she returned, a kiss for when they married, a kiss for when she had his first child, and another when she had his last. A kiss every night before bed, and a final kiss before one was forced to leave the other. With him she saw her future, even with the uncertainty of what lies beyond the remains.

"Promise you'll wait for me" Ilizabeth requested. "When I return I will be a woman full grown, and we will wed."

"I promise,"

While Ilizabeth basked in the warm glow of true love outside, her brother engaged in a similar experience. One that was much more forbidden despite being just as real. Brienne typically found herself further on the bridge to absolute intoxication during events as big as these. Aside from it being a reliable source for suppressing nerves, there were rarely moments where she could let loose and not suffer grave consequences.

After finishing her four mug she took to the floor, and began mingling in slightly drunken slurs. Although she was distracted with a conversation of her own, Sansa couldn't help but take note and decide to keep an eye out.

Which left Rickon to use the absence of his mothers at the head table as an opportunity to find Alix. He searched through the crowd for a brief moment before his eyes settled in on the brunette. Rickon watched as the boy's perfect teeth were revealed in a throaty laugh. He admired the dents that formed in his cheeks whenever he smiled as bright as he did now.

He found his mind lingering to a place far less innocent, a place where he may or may not have walked in on a shirtless Alix sitting with Maester Hordon sticking a needle and thread through the small gash on his left peck. Without ever actually getting close enough to do anything, Rickon could taste the salty beads of sweat that dripped down his chest and forehead.

His curls were cut short, now sprouting from his head like a bird nest. Rickon approached the boy and a few of their friends from town. Some of the future Lords were tossed in the mix as well; Lord Cley Cerwyns son, Mikah, Lord Marlin Dormunds son, Martin, and Lady Alys Karstarks boy, Eddin.

Rickon never quite felt like he fit in with the highborns from other castles, most of him blamed it on jealousy. Every boy in here wished he were the son of Sansa Stark, the heir to the North. But some of him couldn't help but feel it was his lack of masculinity that drove a wedge between him and the others.

"Congratulations, My Prince," Mikah said. He was no older or bigger than Rickon, in height at least. For a boy not yet full grown, he was built of a pretty solid statue, it was even more impressive to Rickon than Alixs'. His thick light brown hair fell forward as he bowed with the other boys.

"There's no need for such formalities, we're all mates here," Rickon smiled. The boys grinned and nodded their heads and they began to ease into their first legitimate conversation with the Prince. Any other time they spoke it was because their parents forced them to.

"Have you been preparing to win your knightship?" Martin inquired smugly. "I've been training with my father for the past eight months,"

"What do you think?" Eddin added sarcastically. " Look at the size of our future king, you might just be the tallest person in all of Westeros . . . the prettiest too"

All the boys threw their heads back in laughter, except Alix. Rickon knew they were teasing him, boys like them always did. Yet something about today refused to let him cower. Instead of removing himself from the conversation, he decided to play into it.

"Sounds like someone has a crush," Rickon said snarkily.

"Is that it, Eddin? Got a crush on the Prince, eh?" Martin cackled obnoxiously before slapping the Eddins back so hard that he lost his balance as he jolted forward.

"I've been training," Rickon answered vaguely.

"He's too modest. You should see 'em. He's got the heaviest sword in our class and he wields it as if it weighs nothing." Alix wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulder and playfully ruffled his fist through his hair, giving it a disheveled appearance. Rickon's hands immediately flew to his head, immediately brushing the disrupted strands back in line.

"How about we put that sword to good use then, eh?" Mikah suggested with an overtly devious grin.

Rickon examined each of their faces. He saw the hunger build in the black of Mikah's eyes, the white bubbling foam that fizzled from his watering mouths. Rickon didn't care for the way he looked at him, as if he were going to eat him alive. Every little Lord in the realm dreamed of having a chance to beat the Prince into the ground, but Rickon had no intention of losing. He knew what the Cerwyn boy was really looking for, and maybe if he finally showed them just how wrong they were, they'd release him from their ridicule.

"Alright, let's go." He nodded confidently.

Rickons led the way out of the Hall through the back with his head held high. He didn't even bother to check and see if his mothers were watching, he was too determined to finally settle things. He motioned for the boys to follow him outside past the sept, and across the courtyard.

The further they walked away from the celebration the more the darkness took over. Rickon looked to the last lit torch sitting in its holder suspended up against the wall guarding the castle before grabbing it. He circled through the sparring corridor, extending his arms upwards to pass the flame to the torches lined along the wall.

What once was a dark circular semi-enclosed corner, was now well lit, casting the shadows of the six boys who stood inside over the snow. As he stuck the flaming end of the torch into the snow, it sent a spine curling hiss through the air. His stomach began to knot, and goosebumps formed as chills rushed through his body.

With sweaty palms and pudding-like legs the boy drew the sharp steel sword from the holder on his hip. The shining silver mirrored the bright orange flames on the wall, revealing a nice clean coat of fresh polish. Mikah drew his sword too. It was nothing above the average steel cut of every sword the men in Deepwood Motte carried.

Rickon could tell by the crazed look growing in his eyes that the difference in their swords made him angry. Or maybe it was the difference in height, or the difference in positions of power, or maybe it was because the Cerwyn boy didn't just see him as different, he saw himself as less than.

"Alright boys, let's keep this a clean and fair fight," One of the boys, Howwar, from class spoke. "Being that these aren't sparring swords, we'll count 'almosts' as hits. First to three wins,"

Rickon and Mikah nodded simultaneously. Within a split second of them holding their swords upwards, Mikah charged first. The clashing of their swords rippled loudly as Rickon stuck his blade out, blocking the hit. He slid his blade against Mikahs. Schwinggg. The small audience cringed at the ear piercing sound.

Rickon moved swiftly around the sparring corridor, diving and dodging every harsh swing.He spotted the weak point just at the left side of the boy's hip sticking the tip just before his flat stomach. His legs stood still, practically stuck in the snow,, while the rise and fall of his rugged breath rocked his upper half.

With his head still facing downward at the blade inches away from his stomach, his eyes diverted to Rickon. For the first time all evening, Mikah began to unnerve him. His blank penetrating stare seemed to suggest that he would go to a hellish extent to prove himself, and that rocked him. Rickon pulled back almost in fear of the way the boy watched him deviously, and dropped sword by his waist.

"That's one for Rickon," Howwar shouted.

"I can count you cunt," Mikah spat angrily.

The boys looked at each other with wide shifty eyes and their mouths drawn up from a lack of words. Rickon rolled his shoulders back and readjusted the grip he had on the handle of the swords before raising his sword again. As crazy as Mikah may be, he wasn't better than Rickon, and he would prove that.

The second Mikah stood firmly in his stance Rickon charged. He remained aware of the fact that most of his enemies will think that someone of his age and stature wouldn't be swift. That because he grew faster than he was prepared to, he would stumble around and trip over his slow feet like a giant oaf.

But by the blessing of the Old Gods, Rickon was able to keep his balance and speed as he continued to sprout in height. Mikah struggled to block the rapid attacks, he hissed as he clenched his teeth in an attempt to concentrate better. He peddled backwards in a panic just before tripping over his own feet and hitting the ground with one embarrassingly loud oof. The rest of the boys snickered as they watched frustration take over his mind.

Rickon wanted to laugh too, he wanted nothing more than to gloat, to laugh in his face, to taunt him the way all the other boys did for years. But that just wasn't in his nature. The sheer thought of gloating reminded him of his mothers' and how they were just as kind as they were tough.

He stuck out his free hand, hoping for it to symbolize something further. Instead of being met with the boy's hand in his, he felt a harsh slap against the back of it. Mikah rose to his feet in complete fury. His eyebrows furrowed tightly, his nostrils flared in the same rising and falling pattern as his chest. He practically growled while tightening his grip on the handle to his grip to where his knuckles began to turn white.

"Again" He huffed.

Against the wishes of his mind, Rickons body fell right back into place. This was his chance, his chance to prove that when his mothers inevitably slipped away into the night forever, he would be worthy of wearing the crown they did. That although he may have been entirely different from what the North had been used to, he would always reign with the people's best interest at heart.

He felt a different sense of pressure as he raised his sword for what he hoped would be the last time. He knew that this time, he was wielding it for a greater purpose than just proving himself to the other boys, he was beginning to prove himself as the future of the realm.

Mikah fell into place huffing and puffing, clearly lost in a state of mind that would cost him the final round. Rickon allowed for the boy to swing first, he kept a dignified expression while his insides grinned smugly as the ferocity of the swing. It was sloppy, and could never connect with someone as skilled as himself. He dodged left, then right, then left again, then right again, ducking every throw his tiring enemy threw.

Rickon's eyes zeroed in on the final swing. He took note of the boy's loose grip, something his mother always reminded him of, seeing and seized the opportunity to disarm him. He raised his sword and struck it down hard causing the blade to fall silently in snow.

"Final point goes to Prince Rickon" Howward shouted excitedly.

The rest of the boys ambushed Rickon yipping loudly as they jumped up and down against his backside. He didn't usually care for attention, but this was different. It was attention he felt worthy of it. He extended his hand out once more, hoping that he would shake it and put their grievances aside for good.

The shaggy haired boy huffed out in defeat before picking up his sword. He turned his back to Rickon and the rest of the boys and found a seat on one of the snow covered barrels off to the side. sitting on one of the barrels to the side. Rickon couldn't understand how someone who knew so little of him could hold so much hate for him at the same time.

"Seven Hells, Rickon. You're quicker than God thunder" Martin exclaimed. "You've gotta show me how you do that bit where you strike from below and spin"

"Yeah, that was bloody impressive Stark," Alix complimented him in a tone that only sounded flirtatious to Rickon, or so he thought.

"I think I see who really has a crush on who!" Mikah said loudly.

All of the boys turned to watch as the red faced boy stormed back over with his sword still placed in his right hand. They all back up in fear of what he intended to do with it, everyone except Rickon who stood firm. He hated bullies, and something about the way they continued to badger and belittle others even after having their ass handed to them struck a nerve inside Rickon. A nerve he never knew existed.

"Haven't you had enough of a beating? I beat you fair and square, get over it," Rickson snapped back.

"I'm sure your fancy Master of Arms taught you how to move like that. Or maybe it was your freak of a father who poses as a woman to all of the North!" He spat viciously.

Rickons temper began to boil like a kettle sitting directly over a fire. In every evil word the boy spat, Rickon bubbled against the lid, threatening to spill over, hissing huge bursts of flames into the air.

"You're nothing but a jealous little bastard," Rickon spat.

"If the Queen is really a woman, I wonder who's the real bastard here," He continued.

Rickon found his legs moving to close the gap between them. He stopped inches before his face with his bawled up tight. He was seconds away from slingling it harshly against his jaw, before deciding to stop.

"You're not even worth it"

He turned his back to the boy walking away with great pride and dignity. The boys followed behind Rickon, all in agreement with his final words to Mikah. He couldn't wait to get back to his celebration, and enjoy his final moments with his sister. To get back and bask in the small victory with his new friends, and maybe even sneak in a goodnight kiss with Alix.

As Rickon walked practically bouncing in every long stride he took, his balance was thrown at the sudden intense feeling of his legging ripping. The thrashing pain coming from the spot just above the cap of his knee sent a wave of stunning shock through his body. His arms stuck out like a flightless bird as he tried to grasp his friends before falling to his knees.

Alix and Eddin caught his elbows just before he hit the ground. They all looked down simultaneously, eyes growing wide as the big pooling circle of red forming in the snow. Howwar, Martin, and Jarrad turned to face the culprit, their faces just as stunned as his. He trembled as the reality of what he had just done set in.

"Grab him!" Eddin shouted.

The three boys pounced on top of MIkah, grabbing at his clothes so harshly that one accidentally scratched his face drawing a bit of blood. He fell to the ground with the three piling on top of him as he struggled and shouted. Alix and Eddin helped Rickon to the ground gently before kneeling to his side.

"Go find the Queens!" Alix shouted to Eddin as he wrapped his hands around the handle of the blade.

He turned his dazed focus back to Rickon who laid groaning on the ground. The clouds from his breath huffed into the air one by one as he huffed out nervously. He scrunched his eyes closed, licked his lips, and wiggled his fingers, before thrusting the sword out of the boy's leg.

Rickon wailed out into the open air, sending a jolt of pain in the ears of every animal nearby. He hazily looked at the ground, stirring in and out of consciousness. The thuds and yelps of the boys beating MIkah was the last thing he heard. Just before slipping away into the darkness.

Chapter Text

Sansa stood in the midst of a circle consisting of five Great Ladies of the North. They all gathered around Lady Mormont who carried her tiring three year old, Jeyne, on her hip. As she toyed with the small hand of the only daughter Lyanna had, she couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of uneasiness wash over her. She looked around the room, taking in all the smiles and the sounds of joyful laughter. Especially the ones coming from her her wife who held a tall mug into the air, shouting with the other members of the Queensguard. Yet still, something didn't sit right within her.

The knotting in her stomach resembled a similar feeling, the one she felt in this very room fifteen years ago, only then she was practically bursting at the seams with two full grown babes in her belly. The air tightened and the room went mute as she laid eyes on the boy hysterically rushing into the hall.

Images of the man who cried for help when the Boltons attacked flashed through her mind as her eyes fell to the blood on his hands. That same daunting shade of red, that same look of horror, it all practically sent Sansa into a spell of slumber.

"Your Grace! The prince has been stabbed!" He shouted.

Brienne turned in horror, only just now noticing a southern shift in the atmosphere. Her feet began to move faster than her mind's ability to process the words 'prince' and 'stabbed'. She pushed through those that didn't have enough sense to flee from her raging path until she arrived beside her wife, standing a few feet before the boy. He spun on his heels, quickly turning to run back outside of the castle leading all of the North behind him.

Ilizabeth sat on a crate just beside the Sept, innocently cupping Gabrins chiseled jawline whilst thoroughly pressing her lips against his. Just as he was beginning to find himself caught in the heat of the moment, he heard the chatter of the people growing louder. He detached his face from the princess' and poked his head out to the side, finally noticing the crowd forming outside the Great Hall.

"What is it?" Ilizabeth groaned.

"I don't know." He motioned for Ilizabeth to hop down. "Everyone's outside the hall,"

She wiped the smeared gloss from the sides of her mouth before hopping down against the frost covered dirt. It cracked underneath every lazy uninterested step she took towards the crowd. She rose to her toes and stretched her body as far as she could in attempts to see over the mass amount of people.

Ilizabeth grabbed Gabrins wrist, now tugging him into the crowd hastily. She read the expression of every face she passed. The mix of horror, anger, and disappointment left her with a jarring feeling bubbling in the pits of her stomach.

"What's happening?" Gabrin questioned one of the people beside them.

"Lord Mikah stabbed the Prince" He spoke angrily. "Hang him for treason!"

The crowd roared in outrage. Before she knew it she was holding her breath, praying to the Old Gods that the man's words were merely a lie. A misunderstanding, or a cruel joke of some sort. That hope helped her upwards as she continued to move through the path Gabrin cleared for her.

She reached the center of the crowd. Her gaze fell upon the wet face of her shorter mother, whose body practically caved in on itself. Brienne lifted the limp body of her twin brother off the ground, her stare so blank it was unreadable. Maester Horden motioned for Brienne to follow him up the stairs to which she did instantly.

She practically shoved the man up the stairs, he was old and couldn't help but move slowly. But Brienne feared the worst, and she wasn't prepared for that, especially in regards to her children.

While Brienne, Rickon, Maester Horden, and a few other stewards and knights disappeared into the castle, Ilizabeth turned her gaze back to her mother. She held a different demeanor, one much darker than Ilizabeth had ever seen. The beautiful crystal blue of her eyes now resembled a dark brewing storm in the sea. Her lips were pressed tightly together, as if she was holding back a truly terrifying beast.

Ilizabeth mustered the courage to head out further, to walk past the bloody snow where her mother and the three other boys stood. Recognizing the three of them as; the two commoners' boys Howwar and Jarrad, and Lord Dormunds son Martin. They held a tight grip on the arms of the strangling Cerwyn boy, he wiggled in both anger and fear as the two women set their sights on his crooked and bloody nose.

"What happened?" Sansa asked in a calm yet scary tone.

"Mikah challenged the Prince to a sparring match. First to three wins. Rickon won and Mikah put his sword through his leg while we had our backs turned, " Martin spat angrily.

"It's true, Your Grace" Howwar spoke to which Jarrad nodded in agreement.

A less youthful version of Lord Cerwyn came barreling from the midst of the crowd. He stumbled out into the isolated, hurling swear words at those who attempted to sick their paws on him too. He looked at his son in sudden shock, then turned his rage towards the Queen.

"What is the meaning of this!" He shouted.

"Your son put a sword through my brother's leg!" Ilizabeth yelled.

"Ilizabeth," Sansa immediately silenced the girl. She now turned her attention to Lord Ceryn who seemed to be taken aback by the claims, then she looked back at the boy.

"Seize him!"

The clanking of the metallic armor of the Winterfell knights rustled immediately at the Queen's command. They rushed to replace the grip they held on Mikah with an even tighter one. His legs flailed as he shouted in protest of the idea.

"Your Grace, how do we know these boys speak the truth?" He stepped in desperately. "Look at his face, there has to be more to the tale,"

"We're not lying! We all saw it with our own eyes!" Jarrad shouted.

"Mikah, speak the truth this instant!" His father yelled at him.

The knights ceased their action to obtain him for the moment, allowing for the boy to speak for himself. Every Northerner in the area stood with their lips sealed, eyes wide, and ears open waiting to hear his defense.

"I stabbed him," He admitted in defeat.

The people roared once more. Lord Cerwyn's eyes remained wide as he watched them carry his song off. He seemed as if he was genuinely shocked to hear his son's admittance, but Sansa saw through the man. She figured if his son was rogue, someone had to put the bug in his ear.

She would never forget his blatant defiance when she announced her betrothal to Brienne. Although the man had been silent for years, all trust and faith in him was lost when his son acted out. Lord Cerwyn fell to his knees and ignored the wave of shock from the cold as he began to plead.

"All I ask is that you spare my son's life, Your Grace, I beg you,"

"Lock him away immediately. And do not take your eyes off of him for a second. Everyone else is to return to their homes immediately, except for the Lord and Ladies of the Northern castles. I believe it is time we reevaluate the fealty of House Cerwyn," Sansa instructed the realm.

Ilizabeth followed after her mother in a quick panic. Her anger allowed the thought of her brother lying somewhere dead to idle. Long enough to keep her composure until she wound up outside of the door he was behind. Sansa stood frozen with her hand on the door knob, her gaze stuck on the frame, and her mind somewhere far.

After letting out a deep composed breath she twisted the door knob and entered the room. Maester Horden sat at the edge of the bed with a needle and thread in his hand. Rickon sat upwards, his eyes opened fully as he watched the Maester prepare to sew his legs closed. His eyes were red from the stinging of the wound cleaning, and the thought of never being able to walk properly again. He tried his best to wiggle the toes on his right foot, but they were barely responding to the signals his brain sent.

"You're alright," Sansa sighed.

"Maester Horden, how is he?" Ilizabeth panicked in sight of several bloody rags sprawled across the bed.

"He fainted from the shock, he will be okay, no need to worry about him suffering from any fatal wounds. But, the blade seemed to nick a few viable ligaments through his leg, if this leg were to ever fully heal and return to its full function it'd be a blessing from the Gods," Maester Horden explained. "But the boy is young and strong, so have faith"

He requested that Rickon hold still as he stuck the needle into one side of the slip flesh, he pulled gently, forcing out blood as he pulled it to the other side. The man swiftly grabbed another rag and blotted until the blood that surfaced was gone. He continued to do this pattern throughout the gash until it was sewn up entirely.

Rickon winced in pain, the air he pulled through his teeth resembled the sound of a suckling pig roasting in the fire. AN immense level of heat coursed through his body and his mind remained in a groggy haze from the loss of blood. Brienne stood tall, bitter, and firm as she watched Maester Horden fix up her son in silence.

The worry had washed over, relieving her of the strainful thought of possibly losing her son. But that worry was replaced with a dark festering anger, the same anger boiling inside of Sansa. The Lord Commander had no idea what happened, but she remained determined to find out who was involved so she could purely oversee their punishment.

"What happened, Rickon?" Brienne questioned. He gulped in fear of the deep tone she used.

"I was out sparring with Mikah Cerwyn. Some of the other young lords and boys from Master Eddams' class were there too," He confessed. Brienne shut her eyes, trying to contain the beast growing within.

"They wanted to see my sword. Alix got to bragging about how it was the biggest in class and Mikah challenged me. We went out there and had a clean fight, mother I swear it. After I beat him he became enraged, starting shouting about Ily and I being bastards, and . . . . the rumors about you. So I just decided to leave, when I turned my back he stabbed me in the leg." Rickon explained honestly.

Brienne felt the vein in forehead twitching violently as she let out a very frustrated sigh. A part of her wanted to go out there right out, and demand the heads of both Lord Cerwyn and his son. They were lucky Rickon's injury wasn't fatal, it was the only thing that kept Brienne indoors. Although Brienne grew tired of the rumors and the backtalk about the Prince and Princess, she learned to ignore it, and so did Sansa.

Except this time it enraged her in a way that slightly started herself. She stood with her fist clenched, her jawline tight, and her eyes shut whispering words to herself.

"I will hang them for this," She muttered.

Those words sent a chill down the spines of both Ilizabeth and Rickon for the remainder of the night. The Queens sat with Rickon until Maester Horden was completely finished tending to him. He gave Rickon milk of the poppy, which was sure to put him to sleep so he could heal quicker. They thanked him a hundred times over before seeing him out.

Sansa was too furious to address anyone else for the night, so she went off to bed while Brienne saw to the stewards preparation of the extra bed chambers they planned to house the Lord and Ladies of the noble houses. Brienne wasn't exactly sure what her wife planned to do with everyone here but she figured she'd get a good idea of that in the morning.

After ensuring everyone had a comfortable place to lay their heads, she eventually followed her wife off to bed. They both laid awake throughout most of the night, staring out into the dark pit of revenge they were sucked into. It wasn't good for either of them, especially not the Cerwyns because the longer they sat in it, the less likely they were to be merciful tomorrow. It's only when we are blinded with fear or anger that we begin to lose any form of rational thought, and irrational thoughts tend to lead to rash decision making.

Despite being told that she should sleep in her own room tonight, Ilizabeth rested her head on the soft cushiony mattress, her face inches away from the bloody rags that were left behind. None of the servants were allowed in, so the mess remained. lizabeth stuck out her arm and swiped them all onto the ground in one swift motion. The sight of them only acted as fuel for her anger.

She watched Rickon slip into a deep slumber while thinking about her pending departure. She was angry at everyone, her brother for fighting, the boys for encouraging it, the Cerwyns for being nothing but spiteful little shits. But mostly she felt angry with herself, because she knew that no matter what she tried to say, when the sun rose the next morning, she would be forced to leave his side.

She tried her best to close her eyes and drift away into the same slumber Rickon was in but she had no luck. She couldn't get her mind to stop racing, nor her hands and feet to stop trembling. Ilizabeth rolled out of bed, tossed her overcoat over her shoulders, and exited the room. She wandered through the vacant castle grounds, finding her way in Rickon's favorite place, the Godswood.

The spooky red goo that dripped down the eyes of the face etched into the weirwood tree unnerved her. Of course, she believed in the Old Gods, she just preferred to worship them from afar. She figured they'd be merciful and listen to her pleas to ensure her family's safety during her journey, as it was her first time out here in months.

As she grew closer to the tree her eyes became fixated on people underneath it. She curiously watched the man sitting still in a chair. He was accompanied by a grand gold plated carriage, three few horses, and seven knights dressed in golden armor. She'd only ever known one family to travel in such a luxurious manner, and that was hers.

It wasn't until her eyes zeroed in on the large wooden wheels that replaced what normally were the legs of the chair, that she began putting the puzzle pieces together. Her stare traveled up his entire body, now moving to the shiny golden crown sat on top of his dark brown hair. She inched closer, her posture low, and her step quieter than a kitchen mouse.

She even held her breath just to ensure that she could get a closer look at them without being spotted. Finally, she arrived behind a nearby tree that would mask her presence long enough for her mind to idle and play out a scenario she never thought she'd actually live. She approached the carriage, now getting a better look at the house sigil painted on the door, a crowned wolf.

"Uncle Brandon," Ilizabeth called out.

A thick scruffy beard covered half his face and the rest of the hair that sprouted from his head was parted down the middle, and fell just past his shoulders. His legs were covered with the thick fur of a Northern animal, making him look like the true Northern despite having spent the past fifteen years in the south.

A small grin grew on his face as he looked out to his niece, already knowing exactly who she was and how she came to be. Still there was a shade of awe that casted over his mind, despite being the keeper of all time, blood magic never really failed to rattle anyone.

"I traveled a long way to come and see you," Brandon said, lacking the ability to contain his mysterious energy. "It's lovely to finally meet you, Ilizabeth,"

Ilizabeth now found herself standing five feet away from the chair bound man, her eyes darting from his immobile legs, to his uncanny resemblance to Sansa then to the golden crown perched up on his head. She never imagined getting to meet the King in the South, and certainly not this early in her life. A part of her felt like she may have still been at Rickons bedside, that she'd simply fallen asleep and was merely dreaming of being here.

But she'd never seen her Uncle Brandon before and unless her imagination was truly that wild, she knew that he was physically sitting in front of her. A gust of wind from the chilly night air rustled through the trees, causing a vibrantly red and healthy leaf to fall from the tree. It rocked back and forth, suspended in the air for a minute by the wind before falling into Brandons lap. He picked it up and rubbed it between his thumb and index finger causing it to spin quickly in his hand. His eyes remained glued to the leaf as he held it to his nose taking a big whiff.

"Leave us be" Brandon commanded the knights that stood near him.

Ilizabeth watched the men's posture stiffen before following the command of their kind. Her eyes remained glued to everyone, especially the blonde haired, middle aged man who led them. She recognized the bright golden hand that replaced his flesh one and placed him as Jamie Lannister, a.k.a. The Kingslayer. from a story she'd heard from one Neras father.

"That's the Kingslayer," She whispered. Ilizabeth didn't think she was loud enough to be heard, but she ws.

"Yes, I'm sure once everything blows over, Brienne will be glad to see him." Bran said as his eyes fell on Jamie. "Especially now that Pod is often drunkenly drifting from place to place,"

"My apologies, how is your brother?" He questioned now looking out beyond the Winterfell walls and into the starry skyline appearing over the tip of the dark green forest.

"How did you know about my brother?"

"I'm the keeper of all time Ilizabeth, I see everything. Why do you think I chose to be in this exact location tonight," Brandon responded in the same eerily mysterious tone.

She had completely forgotten about her mothers stories of Brandon being the three eyed raven. Especially since most of the realm had no idea what they meant. Half of her mind treated the story as nothing more than a children's tale.

"He's okay, the Grand Maester gave him milk of the poppy so he's out cold," Ilizabeth answered.

"I think this is the first time I've had a conversation go this long without hearing someone say Your Grace in over fifteen years. It's . . . refreshing" Bran paused, "What have your mothers been able to tell you about your ability?"

The quick change in topic not only caught Ilizabeth off guard, it allowed her mind to become infested with anxious anticipation. He was here because he was the only one with answers to her questions, the only other warg she knew of.

"They both could only speak so much of it" Ilizabeth said, sounding defeated.

"Would you like to find out more with me?" He asked blankly.

When she looked into his eyes, she could see herself stepping into a whole new world. Not necessarily the Land of Always Winter, but a place she'd never been before, a place full of enticing things, a place she knew she would never want to leave once she entered. The idea of knowing more taunted her like gold to a thief, and all she had to do was reach out and grab it.

"Yes," 

Bran touched the girl's hand gently, sending both of their eyes to the back of their heads as they were jolted from reality. Being that the boy was sitting up in the chair, he was able to keep his posture as his consciousness left the realm. While Ilizabeth fell back onto the semi frozen ground, disconnecting Brandons touch from hers.

Her vision was blurred again. She blinked repeatedly until she was able to realize she was back in the same heated chamber from before. Only now her Uncle Brandon was there, standing on his own two legs without any support. As confused as she wanted to feel, it was almost like her mind didn't recognize that thought, or any of the other millions she wanted to have. All she could do was sit and watch him.

"Take a look around you Ily, where are we?" His voice now sounded as if it were inside her head.

Ilizabeth strained through the poor feeble like vision of the creature she possessed. She blinks repeatedly once more, trying to get her sight to focus on something. They zeroed outside the chamber she was in through a small entryway constructed into the brick wall. She noticed the ginormous trees covered in snow, the fog floating mystically into the room. Her body felt hot and cold, as if she was being burned by icy fire.

"The Land of Always Winter" She answered.

"Correct." He nodded. "And what are you?"

As much as she sat on the question, and even dreamed of being back night after night, she was unable to come up with an answer. She figured since the world around her looked unnaturally large, she must've been something small and awful, like a rodent.

Finally being strong enough to move, Ilizabeth dragged her gaze down slowly. The poor vision settled on the icy scales riddles over its stomach. She'd never seen any animal like this before. Its feet were long and had dull talons blooming from the tip of each 'toe'. She focused on the image before her intensely, then grew frustrated. A certain level of shock or stress was sure to pull her out of the creatures conscious, a safety precaution created for both parties.

"You must relax, Ilizabeth. The more you strain the less you will know." Bran spoke to her. "Breathe, you can do this"

Ilizabeth took in a deep breath feeling it pass through both herself and the creature she took control of. This out of body feeling was thrilling to Ilizabeth, and as much as it freaked her out, it was captivating, like one big mystery.

When she finally let go of the breath she held, a tiny burst of blue flames roared from the small creature's mouth. Ilizabeth mentally jolted back. She was ripped from the creature and placed into her own body. By the time her crystal eyes rolled back to the front of her, they were much darker. Her body shot up, and her eyes went wide and frantic. She looked up at her Uncle Brandon, unable to process the difference between reality and her imagination.

"Uncle Bran, I-It can't be" Ilizabeth mumbled.

"What are you, Ilizabeth?"

"A dragon,"

Chapter Text

It only took a moment for the news of King Brandon's arrival in Winterfell to reach Queen Sansa and Queen Brienne. Seconds after finding that dragons not only still existed, but that she could become one of them, Ilizabeth practically flew to her parents' bedchamber. Bran remained on the first floor of the Great Keep, despite his loyal Kingsguard offering to carry him and his chair up the many stairs. He waited patiently with his eyes roaming the comfortably familiar area and his Lord Commander right by his side.

Brienne and Sansa flew down the stairs holding their robes shut tightly as they lapped around the stairwell. The moment Sansa's bare feet left the last step, she froze in sight of her brother. He smiled warmly in finally seeing both women, ruling together, in person again. He was the first person to encourage Sansa to take the risk, and was glad to see his advice had paid off.

Sansa's stare remained fixated on the mature developments in Bran's features. Despite him being a man full grown the last time they were together, he was still young and basically hairless. Now he had celebrated thirty two name days, and had hair sprouting out all over his body. His beard was thick and so was his fuzzy shoulder length hair, and on top of it was the royal golden crown that seemed to fit their family well.

"I can't believe it's really you," Sansa rushed over to hug him.

She bent over and wrapped her arms around his broad boney shoulders tightly. His time in the chair kept him thin, thinner than most Stark men ever were. Although they were never a family known for having the largest men, there hadn't been a Stark as frail as Bran in decades. Still, despite being dressed in bright southern tan leather, the North suited him.

"It's good to see you, Sansa," Bran replied with his arms still being crushed by Sansa's grip. His eyes traveled to Brienne, "You as well, Your Grace,"

Brienne stood back watching the two interact with an empathetic smile. After the day they endured, she was glad to have something positive happening to them. She subconsciously examined the two men dressed in gold plated armor, completely forgetting that one of them was a dear old friend. Her eyes darted to his, which were already staring back at her through the eye slits carved into his helm.

"Let's talk in your private chambers, we must talk," Bran said. "Ser Barren will accompany us, Ser Jaime, you can stay,"

The shorter and younger member of the Kingsguard assembled behind Bran's chair and began to head back down the hall. Once the three disappeared behind one of the many doors in the hall, Jaime removed his helmet. A significant amount of his luscious blonde locks had turned silver, and remained swept off to the side, stopping just before his eyelids.

"Why haven't you said anything snarky yet?" Brienne questioned. His lack of words and expression began to toy with her own insecurities. She worried that he wouldn't jest, but instead would ask questions and challenge the legitimacy of her family.

"There are just too many to say," He flashed his infamous smug grin, "But I'm honestly glad to see you again"

He hugged her briefly and regretted it instantly. As soon as they broke apart they fell into a spell of laughter. It was something they'd rarely done, and felt more and more awkward whenever they tried to act as if they had that sort of friendship.

"As am I," She nodded.

"Say, do you remember when we first met and I asked if you fancied women and you told me no?" He paused, "Why did you lie?"

As much as she hated fueling Jaimes constantly playful mood she couldn't help but crack a smile. Anytime they encountered someone new and exposed them to their entire 'situation' Brienne found herself holding her breath, and it was always refreshing to speak with those who acknowledged that there simply was a new normality in Westeros.

"Do you always have to make jokes?" She asked.

"Of course,"

"Well," She sighed. "If you must, make them quick. I would like to return to the comfort of my bed at a decent hour,"

"I do not wish to keep you long," He trailed off for a moment, "It's just fifteen years is quite long, how have things been?"

"Things have . . . been," Brienne responded, practically cringed in hearing that number. "The children are a handful, but everything is fine. The realm is in good hands and the people are being taken care of,"

"I'm glad to hear it,"

"And what of King's Landing? Have the people returned to the city yet?"

"Yes they have. It took a while, but the city has been restored completely and everyone placed outside the city has been placed back into their homes," Jaime nodded.

"That's good,"

"Now, we can finally have some entertainment. I understand the King's main focus has to be on the people, but a name day celebration here and there wouldn't have hurt," Jaime scoffed.

"I imagine if my home and family were turned to ashes, I wouldn't want to celebrate a King's name day either," Brienne replied.

"You truly are a bore, you do know that right?" Jaime chuckled. "The perfect trait for Kings and Queens these days. I do hope that Lady Sansa is one of the more lively Starks,"

Despite the black starry night sky providing zero warmth for the outside of the castle, they found themselves wandering the halls, basking in the lively restorative feeling of being reunited.

When you spend a year or so saving each other from bears, Boltons, resurrected dead soldiers, and God knows what else, you form an attachment most men aren't lucky enough to have. Brienne's elongated legs naturally took wider strides than his, always placing her a few inches ahead of him as she walked with her hands neatly tucked behind her back.

"No, that would be Rickon and Ilizabeth," She laughed lightly.

"Did you ever imagine you'd have children?" He stopped walking.

"Honestly, no never,"

"Neither did I," He trailed off.

A mournful look grew over his pale, aged, face, especially in the eyes. They blackened, giving them a beady look, as if he was witnessing something horrible all over again.

"I'm very sorry for your loss . . . for all of them," Brienne apologized, "The way things went in King's Landing-"

"It's okay, it was . . . it was hard and I know Cersei did terrible things but . . . I just wish I had a chance to say goodbye," He cut her off.

"If you don't mind me asking, what exactly happened?"

Jaime let out a long grumbling sigh and stopped near a window. He leaned over, now taking in a deep breath as he looked up at the sky. Brienne lingered close behind. Her time in the North kept her prepared for future winters, but not enough to be dressed in pajamas and a robe.

"I was stupid enough to think she'd surrender. If only I had left after the fight against the dead, I could've spoken with her and maybe she'd still be here." He answered, now turning back around. . "Instead I left with the rest of the North and when Cersei refused to surrender . . . everything turned to ashes . . . right before your very eyes,"

When the Northern men who managed to make it out of the collapsing city returned home, most of them refused to talk about it. Brienne had only ever heard one man speak about the events, and that was Ser Jullen Tymber. She was waiting in Wintertown to get a dent knocked out of her armor when he and three other knights were gambling She remained unaware of what struck the conversation up, but she remembered him stating that the smoke and ash left him with a cough that lasted up to a year, and how he'd never forget the smell of burning flesh, a nauseatingly sweet, yet putrid stench.

"I can't imagine,"

"No, you can't," He said. "Well, I won't keep you any longer. It's late and I'm sure Queen Sansa can get us situated for the night,"

"Yes, I will see you tomorrow, though . . . today has been a very eventful one, I will probably be occupied for most of the day,"

"I understand," He nodded. "Goodnight, Brienne,

"Goodnight Jaime,"

Brienne walked back down the hall, up the stairs, and back into her bedroom. She tossed her robe across the chair in front of the fireplace and climbed back into her ancient wooden bed once again. Her eyes were closed, body was warm and comfortable, but her mind was anything but idle. A frustrated huff slipped from her mouth as she turned onto her back, staring up at the dark tall ceilings.

Brienne thought about Jaime's words, how he wished he left for King's Landing sooner. She was thankful he didn't, because if he did, they both would've died. She couldn't believe that after all these years he still thought that there was something he could've said or done to change her mind. Then again, she could. Back then she didn't know what love was like, not really. But now, she imagined she would run into a crumbling Keep to die in the arms of her wife.

She grew tired of waiting for her wife for what felt like many hours, and her mind settled on the fate of the Cerwyns just as her eyes finally closed.

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The Queens' paced the private quarters simultaneously. They'd walk out the same distance, turn, and walk back just to pass each other in the middle as they pondered over their decision. The time grew closer. Closer to the sound of the bell, to the final verdict..

A long wooden rectangular table sat in the midst of the room. It was well lit, with light coming from both the burning candles and the sun seeping through the glass windows. Everything in the room sat perfect and still, the thick black curtains were tied back neatly, the Queensguard remained silent by the door, and all fourteen chairs remained empty and aligned in their places at the table.

All remained still, except for the Queens' and the direwolf pup in the corner. Due to all the commotion last night, Sansa was unable to idle her mind long enough to come up with a name for her yet. Still, she wished for her to be around, and requested that one of the servants keep her distracted while she and Brienne dealt with the situation.

The tiny specks floating in the cool castle air could only be seen in direct sunlight. They lingered around in the same silence as the Queen, sending an unusual feeling down the spine of the Hand. Still she remained firm and professional as she waited for the Queens to inform her of the trail's commencement.

The door began to creak open. The sound grabbed the attention of the three women already riling up to scold whoever entered without permission. Ser Galvin appeared from behind the door with his cleek black armor clanking together as he bowed in search of forgiveness.

"My apologies, Your Grace. King Brandon and Princess Ilizabeth are requesting your presence," he said looking at Sansa specifically.

Everyone in the North knew that in this current moment, the Queens were women to fear. They've never quite been in a position like this before, and it was jarring. The idea of a powerful motherly wrath loomed over the people in the same way it did when they prepared for the Long Night.

Sansa thanked the man before dismissing him, then she turned to face her wife. Brienne nodded in support and kissed Sansas forehead before watching her exit the chamber hastily.

It was only a matter of time before Sansa found herself outside of the room where Rickon recovered, with a few hairs out of place and slightly disheveled gown. She opened the door and entered.All members of her family held the same expression, their eyebrows raised and their eyes as wide as a spotted deers. They were startled by her abrupt entry, everyone except for Brandon, who didn't really seem to be startled by anything nowadays.

As bitter as the blood flowing through her veins tasted today, the sight of this many Starks in one room was enough to turn a saltlick into something sweet. Her gaze fell upon Rickon and Sapphire. She laid sound asleep in his lap on top of the blanket covering his good leg. After being brought into his chamber early this morning, the young pup found herself with a classic case of the zoomies. She ran back and forth, getting herself into every possible form of trouble she could before inevitably using up her energy.

Jon placed his hand on Bran's shoulder, sighing as he took another good look at him. She could tell by the way his cheeks turned red from smiling that this was his first time seeing their brother again.

"All we need is Arya," Jon chuckled softly.

"She's doing well, I check in on her occasionally," Brandon admitted. Jon and Sansa looked at Bran in surprise. They never imagined he would spend his time watching over Arya.

"I look after all of you," He smiled simply.

Sansa moved next to her daughter who remained at Rickons bedside for hours. She sat down on the edge of the cushiony mattress, and placed her hand over his forehead to check for a fever. A relieved sigh fell from her mouth as she found a regular temperature radiating from his body.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" Sansa asked.

"I'm alright, mother. It only hurts a little," He tried to smile through the pain.

"Has Maester Holden come to give you more milk of the poppy, yet?" Sansa looked to the bedside table for any lingering medicine.

"No, it makes me sleepy. I wanted to talk to Uncle Bran," Rickon smiled widely. "He says my visions come from the gift of sight?"

"Yes, you will have answers to your questions soon," Bran reminded him.

Sansa looked at Bran, internally shivering at his eerie tone of voice. She didn't want to ask. She knew that choosing to return on a day like today, after fifteen years, it only had to do with one thing. The thing everyone was seemingly coming to collect.

"So you've come to teach Rickon about his gift?"

"I've come to see Ilizabeth off,"

Her heart dropped to her stomach and bubbled as it sank to the bottom, burning in a pool of stomach acid. With all the recent commotion at the castle, the thought of Ilizabeth leaving managed to subside for the moment. Somewhere deep down inside, the insane hope that Rickons injury would somehow prolong the event, must've grown strong. Strong enough to shield her from the fact that it was happening today, whether she wanted it to or not.

"Oh," That was all she managed to choke out.

"She needed to know some things before she left,"

"Like what?" She asked, shifting her gaze between the two .

"It's your choice," He looked to Ilizabeth, speaking the same words he said to Jon before he decided to reveal the truth about his lineage. It had been a long time since Sansa thought about Jon really being her cousin, a Targaryen one at that. She'd never seen him as anything other than Ned Stark's son, forever making him a brother to her, and to Jon's liking, they all thought the same way.

"I've been warging into a dragon beyond the remains," Ilizabeth spoke plainly.

Sansa stared blankly. She never thought she'd ever hear the word dragon again. Nothing apart from the stories everyone had already come to know, and the one where Daenerys Targayen returned to Westeros riding one of three.

"Drogon?" Sansa questioned Bran.

"No,"

"But dragons are from Old Valyria. Targayens brought them here to Westeros and we watched their kind disappear. How can that be?"

She searched the rest of their expressions for the shock coursing through her bones. But Jon and Rickon already heard everything Bran and Ilizabeth had to say.

"You will come to learn more soon," He remained vague.

She struggled to fully process and absorb the words that came from Bran's, but she trusted him more than anything. With him being the keeper of all time, she understood that he would always know more than anyone.

Still she prayed that he wasn't sending her daughter out beyond because the country needed another martyr for some greater cause. There were plenty of martyrs named Stark, enough to last their bloodline a hefty amount of honor, there needn't be another. She placed whatever faith she had, in the strength of her daughter, the strength of her brothers, and the Old Gods.

Sansa examined their expression again, now noticing their long stare. They looked as if they were holding their breath and biting their tongues, in fear of what came next.

"What else?"

"I've seen a piece of the future." Bran told her. "It is uncertain but I felt I should warn you that without Brienne, Ilizabeth may suffer a great loss."

Something inside the queen jerked violently. She rose to her feet in sudden shock. She feared she was lying in a rowboat, lost at sea. As the churning tide rocked the wooden boat, water began to seep in and splash against her face.

"That's not all," He added. "I've seen a fragment of her future with Ilizabeth as well. A rebellion is brewing in the North and without her here, the realm may also suffer a great loss."

No matter how hard she tried to sit up, she couldn't, and she couldn't stop the water from flooding into her nostrils either. Down it went, sloshing around the tubes and filling into her mouth like a bathtub. She was choking, drowning above water, suffocating in a room full of air. Miles from her family.

"It is up to Brienne to decide whether she goes or stays,"

"What exactly did you see?" Sansa questioned him nervously.

"I cannot say,"

"But you can!" She insisted.

"I cannot,"

"Brandon!"

"I'm sorry, sister." As much as she wished he wasn't, Bran was sincere, "I cannot say,"

"Ilizabeth must go after the trial is through," He added.

Sansa was rendered speechless. A part of her silence came from being worn out. She was tired of worrying, tired of thinking, tired of dealing with every single obstacle placed in her path. And yet she still did.

She struggled to accept that this was a decision her wife would have to make alone. The Starks put literal blood, sweat, and tears into reforging the North, and the thought of the rebellion possessing the potential to ruin that was a thought Sansa pulled away from desperately. Yet the safety of her only daughter was of equal importance, if not more.

It took every ounce of strength she had within to cast this decision to the back of her mind. The realm needed her, and not the concerned, nurturing, motherly version, but the woman who earned the title 'Queen in the North' when she took back her home and survived The Long Night.

Sansa lingered around her family for as long as she could. If anything could help bring her back down it would be them. She inquired about the reconstruction of the Red Keep, and how the people have been managing since the attack on King's Landing. Anything to distract her mind.

Bran reported that in a few short years the bulk of the repairs would finally be through.Many of the survivors were placed in neighboring castles and villages until their homes were repaired, all by order of the King. She was more than impressed with the extreme efforts he went through and was sure that people were finally able to place their lives in the hands of someone with a compassionate heart.

By the time the Queen returned to the meeting chamber back inside the Great Keep, the seats were already filled. The pale aging faces of all the men and women appeared exhausted as they rose from their seats. Most of the men were as wrinkled as unpressed linen, and their hair as white as snow. With the exception of Lady Meera Reed, who was very close to Lyanna's age, Lord Quellin Parkler, Lord Gawen Glover, and Lord Jorah Mormont, who was still only thirteen.

The Lady Hand Lyanna, settled down with Lady Barbrey Dustins' sixth son, Lord Borris, at the ripe age of fifteen and had her first son, Lord Jorah, a year later. Jon came two years after him, then Jayson, the year after that. Next was Bryce, who came the following year and finally Jeyne, who was born three years back.

The petite raven haired boy sat short and smaller than everyone else, but he remained confident as his spine was straight and his everyday scowl more intimidating then ever. Being that his mother often spent her time in Winterfell, and secretly hated whenever her idiotic husband tried to rule, he acted as the head of his house only having thirteen name days underneath his belt.

The little lords favored his mother, and not just in looks, but in mannerisms too. It was rumored that just last night he found himself in a disagreement with another Lord and kicked him in the balls. He was headstrong and occasionally unruly, but what young Northern boy wasn't?

Then there were the Great Ladies. Aside from the Queens' and the Hand, was Lady Alys Karstark, Lady Lyessa Flint, and Lady Faran Hawthlorne. With the exception of Lady Flint, they were all still young and tight-skinned, with solid colored hair, and great pride to be the heads of their houses.

Brienne rose as well. She waited for her wife to join them at the far opposite end of the wooden plank with her hands crossed neatly behind her back. Everyone with a seat returned back to it immediately after Sansa found hers. Brienne typically remained silent when it came time for meetings,only speaking if someone personally requested her intel.

Although Sansa would often express their partnered leadership, Brienne felt that when most swore fealty to her as Queen it was because she was the trueborn daughter of Ned Stark, the reason for the North being freed from southern Kings tyranny. And she was more than okay with that. It was never Brienne's dream to be a Queen, only a knight, and simply existing in this world was more than enough for her.

"I hope everyone was able to find comfort in the castle last night. I do apologize for being unprepared for such a turn of events." Sansa said in a formal tone.

"You shouldn't have to anticipate such treasonous acts, Your Grace" Lord Dormund was the first to speak. His fist was bawled, jaw tense, and a vein pulsed out of his neck like an irregularly pounding heartbeat.

"Aye," Lady Faran added.

"Where is Lord Cerwyn currently?" Lord Jorah questioned in his powerful yet squeaky voice.

Sansa looked to Lyanna, who sat beside her in the first chair to the right. Lyanna nodded before making her way to the door, she poked her head out and whispered a few words to the knights guarding it. Several seconds later, Lord Cerwyn was pulled into the room. Despite not being the one who wounded the prince, the man was held under surveillance while he slept through the night, and of course he didn't like that.

He entered the room today, both his hands and feet free of chains, with the same furiously nervous expression he held last night. The knights walked behind him until he stopped at the only empty chair in the room, once he sat, they returned to their posts outside. With the attention now turned to Lord Cerwyn, he seized the first word.

"I will not be held prisoner for a crime I did not commit" He shouted.

"I see no chains on you," Brienne replied in a cold, rough voice.

The man whipped his head in Brienne's direction. His eyes squinted, as were hers. The two engaged in a long drawn out stare thinking of all the possible ways they wanted to hurt each other. Brienne was the first to draw away, she figured both the man and his son were about to pay for their crimes anyways. Why waste another single breath on Cley Cerwyn?

"Although I have a small council for matters like these, I value the opinion of all who help keep their end of the North strong" Sansa gestured to the table. "Today, I seek your council"

"Your Grace, if I may?" Lord Glover spoke. Sansa nodded, allowing for him to continue. "I think in order for us to reach a proper decision, we would first need to hear the true details of what happened. Does anyone know the full truth of the events thats occurred outside the Hall?"

Heads turned left and right, looking for unbiased personnel. This time, Brienne signaled for a knight to come to her side and commanded him to fetch the witnesses from last night. The iron armor clanked as he hustled to the door, leaving the Lords and Ladies in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes, then he returned with Jarrad Mole and Martin Dormund. The boys shuffled their feet nervously in the presence of so many eyes. They stood slightly slumped over, looking down at the ground, waiting to be addressed.

"Tell us what happened, all and true," Lyanna spoke loudly.

Both of the boys' posture jolted upwards into a more respectable manner. Martin cleared his throat with two ahem ahems and proceeded to speak first.

"It started inside the Hall, my Lady Hand. It was a bunch of us boys talking, having a laugh. . . Eddin, Howwar, Jarrad, Alix, the Prince, me, , and- . . ." He trailed off. "And Mikah. We were congratulating the Prince and we began talking about knighthood and swords. Mikah suggested that they put their swords to use so we went outside."

"Who is 'we'?" Lady Karstark interrupted. "Be specific,"

"Everyone I just named, my lady. We were all there" He responded respectfully. Lady Karstark nodded, allowing for the boy to continue. "First to three 'almosts', won. Rickon beat him, fair and square. But then he got all angry and started shouting. He called the Prince a bastard and said nasty things about the Queen. Queen Brienne" He paused to look at her.

She wasn't looking in his direction though, in fact she wasn't really looking at anything. Her head sat straight forward, her eyes and lips relaxed, and her stare as blank as a sheet of paper. Almost as if she was a shell with nothing inside of it. His eyes darted back forwards in fear of how someone could look so empty, so full of nothingness.

"Rickon was going to hit him, but then he just walked away. That was when he stabbed him in the leg," Martin explained.

"You swear this is the truth, boy?" His father asked him.

"Yes, sir" He nodded, still in a militant position.

"And you, you swear this is the full truth?" Sansa asked, looking at Jarrad.

"Yes, Your Grace. The full and honest truth. I swear it by the Old Gods" He agreed.

"Alright then, thank you" Sansa motioned for the boys to leave the room.

They exited at a much quicker pace than they arrived, practically scrambling like mice. Everyone expected Lord Cerwyn to say something. To jump up and protest that somehow the boys were lying, or that someone here was conspiring against his 'great house'. They expected him to plead, to wail, to slam his fists against the table like a baby. But he did nothing, and said nothing.

Lady Hawthlorne was the next to stand which of course surprised no one. No matter how many years she spent as a highborn lady, she stuck out like a sore thumb. Her dark ginger hair remained untamed, curled, and wide. She arrived dressed in a loosely fitted highborn gown completely made of fur, and an overcoat of the same material. And somehow even with all the presence of a handmaiden and tub, she forever wore a coal tinted coat of grime over her skin.

"I say we spear the father, then hang the boy,"She shrugged simply. The room filled with scuffles and mumbles of shock. They all turned to look at the lady with wide eyes. "What?"

"How can you suggest that so simply?" Lady Karstark asked.

"The boys a madman! He spoke ill of the Queen and the Prince, then stabbed him!" She argued. "They die, tonight,"

"It's true, though I don't completely agree with Lady Hawthlornes approach . . ." Lord Manderly spoke, "This would be a different discussion if it had stopped at a mere exchange of words. But, he took it too far. He should be punished,"

"Ser Brienne is the Queen!" Sansa stood up furiously.

For the first time in a while, Sansa heard something inside her snap. Like the fallen limb of a tree, or the leg of a rider who's lost his horse. That same worn out feeling struck again. Tired.Her exhaustion began to fester into something terrifying, something dark and disfigured, something few ever come back from.

"For years, I-, we've allowed the talk. Turned our heads, covered our ears, bit our tongues, and ruled with nothing short of a soft and forgiving hand because I felt guilt for not giving you answers!" She griped.

"But maybe . . . . maybe that was a mistake. The exchange of words was just as treasonous as the stabbing! Speaking ill of the Queens, their children! It's all treason!"

Sansas shouts turned into a roar, it echoed through the stone room and rattled the bones of everyone in the room. Her face beamed bright red, and her knuckles turned white from the fists she subconsciously made.

"And it will not go unpunished. From this day forward anyone caught fixing their tongues in such manner will be executed. No warning,"

The room's eyes were fixated on Sansa. Most, if not all, had never seen her this heated, another word from her mouth and they might as well had been burning alive. Brienne's pupils dilated concerningly. She feared the woman may not have been in the right mind to continue, and just her lips parted slightly to speak, the Queen continued.

"Lord Cerwyn," She bellowed. The legs of the chair scraped eerily as he rose to his slightly trembling feet slowly. He said nothing, the bulge where his Adam's apple was sat still, forbidding his voice from sounding.

"Do you have any idea where your son could've caught wind of such blasphemous words?" She asked, raising a brow.

Still at a loss for words the somewhat youthful man didn't respond. His eyes shifted around as if the answer was written somewhere in this room. Of course, Lord Cerwyn already knew the answer to a question like that, it was the consequences that stapled his lips together. Still on the outside his face remained hard and serious, the face of a man with a grudge.

"The Queen has asked you a question," said Lyanna.

"I spoke ill of the Queen and the children." He confessed with little regret. "And so have others in this very room. When my father pledged his fealty to House Stark, it was when a man ruled and was properly married to a woman. This marriage may have performed before the Old Gods but I assure you, they turned a blind eye, they did not bless this sham of a marriage. And the children... resembling both women?! The work of something forbidden and unnatural. I know it and you know it. If we follow this any longer we'll all be condemned to the lowest of the seventh hell!"

Lord Cerwyns' coup-like pleas unnerved the crowd. No one said a word, especially those too afraid to admit their past comments about the Queens'. He was agitated by the looming silence, the panicked stares, and the overall betrayal of those who agreed to stand with him. He didn't even notice his nostrils flaring every time he let go of his jagged breaths.

"Ser Finch, Ser Goods. Please escort Lord Cerwyn and his son to the East Gate." Sansa commanded.

The two men coated in shiny silver armor moved to the sides of Lord Cerwyn. Their arms reached out to grab hold of the man when suddenly he turned and shoved Ser Goods with all his might. He let out a hard grunt as the metal clobbered loudly against the ground. Lord Cerwyn flailed his arms around in protest to the detainment, smacking the arms of Ser Finch now.

"Our families fought just as hard! We all lost fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters, too! We will not die for blasphemy!"

"Silence at once," Lord Dormund stood now grabbing at the man next to him.

Ser Goods returned to his feet, and the were three finally able to contain his outburst. He yelped as they twisted his arm into an unnatural position and shoved him through the doorway. Sansa followed behind them first, then Brienne, next thing they knew the whole room was on their feet.

He shouted through the balcony, down the steps gathering the attention of a quarter of Winterfell. Some of the knights trailed behind to ensure that those who noticed didn't follow the group heading out the gate and into the fields. They paused momentarily, waiting for a knight to return with his son who remained in chains. All of the Lords and Ladies of the North accompanied the Queens' and their prisoners. They dragged the men all the way out into the hills where everyone behind the castle walls could no longer see them. Their eyes feasted on the wooden tree cut down and molded to cleanly end the lives of Northern men in one swift chop.

"The boy first . . . I want Lord Cerwyn to see it before he dies too," Sansa demanded coldly.

The two knights did as they were told. They grabbed the young boy who squirmed just as his father did. His complexion was ghostly pale, his eyes dark and wide, his pleas turned to screeches, like the cries of a wounded animal.

They threw him down roughly causing his chin to collide with the thousand year old stump. He chomped down on a piece of his tongue, now tasting the iron of his blood. Brienne swiftly drew her sword from its sheath, the Valyrian Steel glistened in the sun and reflected a beaming flash of light into the eyes of some of the knights. She held it out just before the boy's neck and looked at Sansa.

"Any last words?" She asked.

"Please don't kill me," He weeped. "I don't wanna die,"

The sword went up as quickly as it came down, neatly slicing through the nape of the Mikah Cerwyn. Blood splats stained her face and clothes as the head fell from his limp body, thudding against the ground. It began to roll down the hill bouncing around slightly like a childs toy just before Ser Ferwin lifted his foot up and stomped down harshly to keep it from rolling any further. His cold dead eyes stared up into the sky and although they didn't move they still looked as if they were in search of something. Mercy from the Old Gods, perhaps.

Lord Cerwyn cursed angrily, he bit down on his lip trying to stop the tears that streamed down his face. He watched in horror as his son's head compressed slightly from the pressure.

"You'll pay for this! You and your devil children, you'll pay!" He shouted all the way to the chopping block.

This Cerwyn wasn't allowed a final word, only a final whisper condemning the women to the same place they knew he was destined to go. Just as his sons' head did, Lord Cerwyns thin long head began to tumble down the hill. Blades of grass mixed lodged into his hair and the blood spewing from his head. It rolled all the way down, and splashed into the river now turning the stream a murky shade of a red.

After allowing for the whistles of trees to thicken the tension already larger than the width of Master Eddams waist, the Queen led her people back inside the castle walls. Brienne followed behind them, wiping the treasonous blood of the Cerwyns from her blade with white rag. She effortlessly slipped the sword back into its sheath as she's done a million times before. This didn't feel as good as killing Radcliff, or Gareth, nothing felt better than killing him. But still, she seemed to enjoy killing far more than more than she remembered.

Sansa and Brienne stood by the North Gate as their while the noblehouseman readied their knights and horse for their departure. They held their arms up and waved farewell as each and every horse, knight, and carriage trotted past their walls one by one.

Once they saw the final carriage part ways, Sansa abruptly grabbed Brienne with her right, and used the left to uphold the skirts of her dress as she guided them back inside the Great Keep. Brienne's legs followed hesitantly, while her mind scanned through a list of possible destinations.

The redhead stopped directly in front of their bed chamber before pulling Brienne inside and slamming the door behind them. She didn't want to turn and face her wife, she was petrified by the words stuck to her tongue.

"You have to go with Ilizabeth," Sansa blurted.

"I thought we discussed this already," Brienne's brows relaxed a bit.

"We did. Things have changed. So, I'll help you pack" Sansa looked everywhere but at her wife.

Her eyes fell to her feet as she moved to the wardrobe by the crackling fireplace. The bottom lid felt heavy, filling with tears she tried desperately to hold back. She flung the doors of the dresser open and began sifting through Brienne's things sloppily. She tossed doublets, surcoats, and furs out by the bed, some missing it completely, now collecting dust on the floor.

A single tear slipped from her heavy eyes, colliding with the blue cotton top they acquired on their trip to Tarth. Her eyes were stuck at the singular darkened dot until many more fell and dampened the shirt completely.

Brienne placed her hand on the small of Sansa's back, forcing the protruding cries out of her. She wrapped her arms around her waist and pulled her into a soothing embrace. Brienne was unsure of what her wife was going on about, but she figured the stress of the Cerwyns was a solid part of her breakdown.

Sansa pulled away quickly, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her gown. Her eyes finally met with Brienne's, and for a moment it seemed like they were back outside of Winterfell sixteen years ago. When Brienne and Podrick rode in on their horses, piercing the bodies of the Bolton soldiers hoping to return the Queen back to her captor. Her eyes looked exactly the same as they did when Brienne got down on one knee and promised to give her life protecting Sansa from all harm.

"Bran says that if you do not go, Ilizabeth will suffer a great loss beyond the remains,"

The same worry that rattled through Sansa now found its way inside Brienne. All of the lies they told, and secrets they kept were made to keep Ilizabeth safe from whatever lies in the Land of Always Winter. For a moment, they began to doubt their fear, deeming it as a normal level of nurturing concern. But their gut feeling was right, the land was dangerous and it threatened to take away someone dear to them.

"Who is going to watch over you while I'm gone?" Brienne choked out.

She worried about being absent here as much as she did there. Brienne felt as if she was being pulled in both directions by her arms. She began to tear down the middle, rendering her useless to both parties.

"Rickon will," Sansa smiled through the tears. She held Brienne's cheek in her hand, gliding her thumb across the smooth skin. "Once he's well enough,"

"Are you sure about this?" Brienne believed her son was more than capable of the job, she just didn't want to go.

"It has to be this way," Sansa sighed, her voice cracking through her cries. "She's our daughter,"

Those words rang like a bell within. It was hard to accept Sansa's words, like swallowing a bone whole. The silence allowed for Brienne to hear her heart crack like crushed ice. There was nothing left to say, she was set to go North with Jon and protect her daughter.

Her boots clunked against the stone as she moved to grab her chest out from underneath the bed while cherry picking at the items Sansa threw across the room. She folded her clothes without uttering another word, occasionally glancing at her wife who glided around the room grasping at the extra things her wife would need.

Brienne stared at her hands as if they were literally tied. An immense sense of guilt washed over her. So much so that whenever she caught glances of herself in the mirror across the room she had to look away. She felt awful for not wanting to leave, for wanting to remain by her wife's side and not her daughter. Her flesh and blood, who had never been anywhere without her parents, especially not places beyond her Mothers' lawful jurisdiction.

She closed the chest and buckled the two latches on the side before taking the handle into her hand. Brienne's face hardened, it was the only way she could go through with this decision.

"Everyone should be waiting for you just outside the North Gate," Sansa spoke stiffly.

"Rickon?" Brienne responded.

"He's there too . . . he refused to stay in bed,"

"Oh,"

Brienne reached out to the door knob after taking in one last mental image of their room. Who knows how long it'd be before she returned, if she ever did. Sansa walked beside her almost as if she was being guided by an invisible lead. Stiff, elegant and right at the heels of her wife. Jon, Ilizabeth and the horses were the first thing they noticed as they approached the narrowing walls. Two of them black as night, and the third was its polar opposite.

That was the one supporting the beaten down wooden cart meant to carry their luggage. Then they saw Bran sitting in his chair with his Kingsguard not too far off, Rickon leaning against the left handle in support of his wounded leg, and Nera standing right beside him. Jon lifted the chests and placed them in the back of the carriage before anyone noticed the two women approaching.

These were the moments in life where they thought words could never accurately portray how they felt. Just as Brienne prepared to toss her chest in the back, Winter's furry face appeared from behind the clutter. He climbed on top of the chest with this tongue out panting happily. She moved closer, now extending her arm out to pet him before adding her chest to the luggage.

She sighed before turning to face her family. Brienne looked into the sad eyes of her son, the guilt now rising to the back of her throat. Still she swallowed it, and embraced the boy into a tight hug. She squeezed him for as long as her arms would allow, making it one of the longest hugs she'd ever given him. When she pulled away she gripped onto his strong shoulders and pulled him in close.

"Protect your mother, boy," She spoke before kissing the middle of his forehead. "I love you,"

"I love you too, mother" Rickon held back his tears.

Sansa spread her arms as wide as a raven's wing, waiting for her daughter to hug her. Salt water like tears streamed down the face of Ilizabeth as she ran into them. She collided with her roughly, causing Sansa to take a few steps back just to keep them on their feet. Her arms wrapped around her daughter slowly as the reality of their departure set in more and more. Ilizabeths tears dampened the chest of Sansa's gown as she sobbed harder than anyone here.

"It's alright, my love. I'll see you soon" Sansa croaked while planting a kiss on the top of the girl's head.

"I love you, mother"

"Be brave and strong, and listen to your uncle and mother okay?"

"I will," She wept.

"I love you, Ilizabeth,"

Ilizabeth watched her mother pull away and wrap her arms around Brienne through her blurry tear stained vision. A began to grow heavy in her chest, practically pulling her heart down to her stomach. She felt an actual pain inside her, as if she was physically being pierced with a sword.

Her mind raced with the guilt of pulling her mother away from the realm. As much as she valued her uncle's words, she saw herself as a woman. A woman capable of handling herself, and making her own decisions.

She wished for the world to stop, and give her a moment to think but it didn't. Every second that went by with her paralyzed in fear of speaking up added the possibility of her never doing so.

"Mother," Ilizabeth called. Both Brienne and Sansa turned in response. Her eyes fell upon the blondes, the ones with the identical shape. "Can we speak in private for a moment?"

They only wandered a few feet off to the left. A gust of wind blew right past them, whipping their bright blonde hair through the air. Ilizabeth fiddled with the skin around her finger nails, picking the dead parts off while she searched for the courage to speak her mind.

"Stay," She said.

She looked at Ilizabeth like she had three heads. Each incapable of truly understanding why her mothers' agreed on Brienne heading North.

"What kind of mother lets their daughter go off alone, knowing there is danger ahead?"

"The kind who has greater things to worry about," Ilizabeth sighed, "I am only one person, mother. What will come of the rebellion if you are off in The Land of Always Winter with me?"

"A rebellion? That's quite dramatic, Ilizabeth" Brienne rolled her eyes.

"Those were Uncle Brans words,"

"What is this 'rebellion' you speak of?"

Ilizabeth hesitated, waiting for her mother to crack a smile and take off her mask of fake oblivion. It wasn't until she stopped and stared that she realized Sansa hadn't spoken the full truth. She was shocked her mind hadn't drawn this conclusion earlier.

"Mother didn't tell you," She said out loud accidentally.

"Tell me what?"

"Uncle Bran saw the future . . . but he says his visions of the future are often uncertain. That could-"

"What exactly did he say?"

"If you come with me, the realm may suffer, and if you remain here, I may suffer." Ilizabeth sighed. Brienne remained silent, now processing the new information as fast as she could.

"I want nothing more than for you to come along, but I am only one person, mother. For now, my duty is to the freefolk and yours is to the realm, to mother, and to Rickon,"

"My duty is to my family and the realm," Brienne grew frustrated. "You are my family,"

"But right now, you cannot protect us all at once. You must choose and I want you to choose the realm," Ilizabeth said. "Please, stay,"

She took her mothers silent stubborn look for one of refusal and returned back by her brother's side. The sun inched further out west, taking more and more of the bright beaming light that shined over Winterfell with it. If they wanted to gain a good amount of distance before the sun left for the night completely, they'd need to go now. Castle Black was weeks away, the freefolk were hanging on by a thread and Iliabeth still had no idea how she was meant to help them.

Nera sobbed in the same way Ilizabeth did, if not harder. Everytime she watched Ilizabeth hug another family member she'd receive a tissue from one of the Kingsguard by Bran's orders. Now that her best friend only stood a few feet before her, waiting for her turn on the goodbye hug train, her cries intensified. Her eyes were redder than Rickons wound, as well as the tip of her short pig-like nose where snot dripped down against her dry cracking lips. Nera sprawled her arms out like a bald eagle and wrapped the princess in a tight embrace.

"I have no idea what I'm meant to do without you," She cried.

"You don't mean that, soon you'll be spending all your time with Ser Qharles," Ilizabeth said.

"He may be handsome but he is an oaf," She chuckled, "I'd rather be with you,"

"As would I," Ilizabeth pulled her into another hug.

She struggled to get Nera to release the strong grip she had on her arms the second time around. After having spent several minutes convincing her best friend that she would be okay, she turned to her other half. Rickon managed to quickly wipe away the single tear dripping down his left cheek before his sister could notice. He judged himself for being a man, fighting the urge to cry. She was his sister, and they'd never been apart. But with all the blubbering she and Nera did, he managed to stay strong, for both of them. Ilizabeth held his hand tightly, lips pursed together as she took one final look at him.

"You better be at least a foot taller the next time I lay eyes on you," She laughed, wiping away her tears. "Otherwise I'll tease you forever and ever"

"I'll do my best," He smiled. "I love you,"

"I love you too,"

Sansa and Brienne stood hand in hand, clinging to each other in what they desperately hoped a temporary goodbye. Sansa hoped for a kiss, one final kiss that would linger into a thousand more, one that would last the full duration of their time apart. But instead Brienne let go of her hand, and walked towards the carriage.

Just when she thought she was fixing to hurl herself on top of the leading horse, she grabbed her chest from the back. Sansa watched in complete disbelief of the decision her wife was making. She wanted to command Brienne to stop. To march over there, rip the chest from out her hand and place it back in the carriage before kissing her goodbye. But she remained frozen in her place by Rickon and Bran.

Brienne stopped in front of Ilizabeth. Her watery eyes remained glued to the girl's face. She hoped to remember every single feature, the bridge of her nose, the shape of her eyes, the almost invisible freckles that blended with her complexion so that when she returned, she could point out everything that changed.

"I love you, Ily" Brienne hugged her tightly.

"I know," She cried, "I love you too,"

Brienne struggled to pull away from Ilizabeth. It was almost as if her feet were lodged in quicksand, keeping them locked to the ground firmly. She returned to her wife's side, and watched Ilizabeth hug Bran before mounting one of the black horses.

Jon trudged through the snow in the same thick black furry overcoat he always wore and hugged every member of his family, including Brienne. It was awkward, but they were both more focused on the fact that they finally settled their grievances.

"Take care of her for me," Brienne said. "She's my little girl,"

For the first time, Jon saw Brienne's vulnerability. Despite not having kids of his own, the pain and worry trembling behind her voice was something he related to. He wished he could take it away, but he couldn't. All he could do was promise to protect Ilizabeth, and that's what he intended to do.

"You have my word," He said now looking at both his sister and Brienne.

Jon returned to Ilizabeth side. He disconnected the lead of the second black horse and handed it off to Brienne before mounting the remaining horse. He turned and waved one final goodbye before gently kicking the side of his horse. The last of the Starks remained outside the gate, watching and waving silently as the pair grew small. Then they were gone.

Chapter Text

It had been three days since Ilizabeth and Jon left the castle. They were still many miles from Castle Black, and even more from Jon's home in the Frostfangs. At Castle Winterfell, each day that went by seemed to grow harder in managing her absence. The Queens felt it everywhere, during supper, meetings, walks, and especially during Brienne's lessons with Gabrin.

Sansa remained awake for most of the past two nights and was only able to find the comfort of sleep after taking the pup out to pee several times. By then the sun was rising again. She wished she could lie in bed, left to be confined to her chambers with no one but Brienne and her unnamed pet. But the recent decapitation of Lord Cerwyn and his son left their castle in a compromised position.

Being that his wife's swollen belly was currently a moment away from bursting out the child she carried, she was deemed unfit for travel and remained at home with their younger daughters. The remaining knights that accompanied Lord Cerwyn to the celebration remained in Winterfell by order of the Queen and were meant to return with Sansa. Which of course meant that the people who lived behind the walls of Castle Cerwyn remained oblivious to the fact that their Lord and heir were dead, and that meant the Queen owed them a visit.

She was set to travel this morning and inform his wife of their families treasonous act and grant them a chance to repledge their fealty to House Stark. The Queen's small council didn't dare think about what would happen to the last of the Cerwyns if they refused.

They hoped that this would be the end of it, for everyone's sake. That their late Lords' religious fanaticism only afflicted the wine and water he drank from. Opinions like that tend to spread quickly like a disease, and if the Queen caught wind of the whispers against her family, she'd kill them faster than a fall from the moon door.

After Sansa finished explaining the plan to the small council, she dismissed them early enough to make time to see her son before leaving. Though his condition bettered exponentially, the boy was still confined to his bed by the orders of both his mothers' and the Grand Maester.

Maester Horden confirmed that although a full recovery was of paramount importance, it seemed highly unlikely. The blade did too much damage and the torn ligaments would most likely heal abnormally. Instead of being able to walk, run, jump, and dance normally, Rickon would always move in a sort of hobbling manner. Now whether it would be severe enough to refer to him as a cripple or not was unknown, and would be until the boy made a complete recovery. 

This only served to add fuel to the fire that burned inside of the Queens, especially Sansa. And what worried Brienne the most, was that it almost seemed as if Sansa had reached a certain level of feeling unworried. That whatever she planned to do and say during their trip to Castle Cerwyn would handle everything. 

The two women were the last to leave the meeting chamber. They walked through the hall with Sansa's furry companion following closely behind. Occasionally she would zip in front of them, stop and turn in an antsy search for them all while her pink slobbering tongue dangled from her mouth. 

"Have you given it any more thought?" Brienne said, interrupting Sansa's thoughts. "A name for her,"

Sansa stopped to look down at the energized wolf now nipping at her boots. Her ears had stretched out slightly, now standing a few inches taller than they did before. They flexed backwards as she tugged at the boot lacing with all of her strength. 

"No, I have not been able to think of one just yet," She responded.

"She'll need one soon," Brienne replied, while crouching down to carry the wolf. "And somewhere else to sleep. Why do I get the feeling she's already gotten bigger?"

Sansa didn't respond. She was too busy dealing with the pain of an oncoming headache to realize her wife was still talking. Her head had practically developed its own pulse from the combination of stress and lack of sleep. It banged violently every time she was forced to acknowledge anything with an expiration date. And as beautiful as the Queen is, she wore this tire and stress everywhere she went.

"Look at me," Brienne said.

Sansa's absent gaze lingered back over to the blue eyes of the larger Queen. Brienne lifted Sansa's chin gently and searched for something lively within the depths of her pupil, even the smallest flicker of light would do well in letting her know that Sansa was okay. She'd quietly been observing the restless nights, snippy tone, and bulging forehead vein her wife endured, and was truly starting to worry.

"I grow concerned for you, my love," Brienne confessed. 

"I'm fine," Sansa dismissed her.

"You have not been sleeping and you seem agitated,"

"Are you not?" Sansa asked. 

"My love, I am most enraged with the Cerwyns for what happened, but they are gone now. And Ilizabeth, she-"

"She's gone too, " She sighed, "Ilizabeth hasn't even left the North and yet I can't shake feeling like we've lost her forever,"

Brienne hesitated. She missed her daughter too, and was more than concerned for her safety. But what Sansa was experiencing was something different and she knew exactly what was causing it. She moved the airbound wolf into her left arm and held Sansa's with her free hand. 

"I know this is hard but, Ilizabeth has Jon, the freefolk, Winter, and now apparently a dragon. She is well equipped to handle things, better equipped than any other Stark who left home," Brienne said. "She will return, just like you, your brothers and Arya did,"

For a moment the pounding in her heart subsided. The rhythm was returned to her chest, where her heart fluttered at the support Brienne had constantly shown her. She always appreciated the way Brienne was able to see her thoroughly. How she genuinely knew and understood every nook and cranny of her complex life and used it to support her.

She quickly extended to her toes and kissed her wife. Brienne wrapped her arm around Sansa's waist and pulled her in closer, deepening the kiss. Those roaming the hall rush by blushing, as if they were witnessing something not meant for their eyes. 

"Thank you,"

They walked the remaining feet to Rickons door hand in hand. Brienne stopped to place the pup back down before knocking. They listened quietly as his bed creaked and the spaced out sound of his cane struck the floor each time he took a closer and closer until the door opened swiftly. He rubbed his dark deep sunken eyes in a circular motion as his mouth gaped open, letting a powerful yawn bellow out. A few strands of fiery hair slipped from the loosely knotted ponytail resting just before his back. His free arm extended up into the air and stretched his body out slightly before retracting to the leaning posture he held with his cane.

"Good morning mothers," He said groggily. 

He pushed the door open wider and limped back to the bed. The wolf darted towards Sapphire who wagged her small black tail happily in sight of her sister. They immediately began nipping at each other's tails and ears while simultaneously taking turns knocking the other down. 

Brienne watched amusingly before closing the door behind them. During her time at the Wall she found herself slightly petrified at the sight of Ghost, but when they were small and less vicious looking, the thought of having them as pets grew on her. 

"Good morning sweetheart, is your leg feeling any better today?" Sansa asked, sitting on the end of his bed.

"Much better, I think I can try walking today," He claimed.

"Not yet, Rickon. Rest for a few more days, please" She pleaded.

Sansa's gaze slid downwards to the old slightly bloodied bandage that was wrapped around the boys healing wound. She'd offer to change it but when she tried two days ago, she accidentally twisted his leg in an uncomfortable position. Rickon screamed so loud that his words still occasionally slipped out hoarse. Her gaze fell upon the unlit fireplace opposite of the bed frame. She imagined her son and daughter sitting by the fire during the night, laughing hysterically as they recapped their adventures for the day. 

"Can you start a fire?" Sansa asked Brienne. 

Brienne moved in front of the fire pit while Sansa briefly opened the food to call for the Maester. She hissed at the small sting of the piece of wood that lodged into her calloused palm as she bent down to pick up a few wooden logs for the fire. She plucked it out swiftly, and ignored the thin stream of blood that oozed out while she continued to toss the logs inside the square pit. She lit the end of one of the lighting sticks, holding it downwards so the flame would grow before tossing into the blackened pit. Whoosh. The flames whipped as its illuminating crackling light began to dance to the slight draft coming from the window.

"I miss Ily. It feels strange not having her here with me everyday," Rickon confessed shyly.

"We miss her too," Brienne replied.

"I never thought I'd struggle to sleep without her. I always hated how much Ily would talk before bed. She'd go on and on about the smallest things getting louder every time my eyelids started to close. Now I lay here all night, staring up at the ceiling trying to imagine her voice just so I can get some rest," Rickon added.

A light-hearted smile grew across Sansa's lips, chuckling faintly at the way the boy talked about his sister. She missed her voice too. Along with her smiles, and laughs. But the Queen knew that the more she thought of it the more depressed she would grow. She was going to be gone for at least a year and she needed to start accepting that if she intended to rule with a sharp mind.

"I could come in here and read you bedtime stories like I used to?" Sansa suggested nicely.

"Mother, I'm too old for stories," He rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"When will you realize that no matter how old you grow, you and your sister will always be my little babies?" Sansa laughed now pulling at her cheek. He chuckled as he pulled away, swatting at her mothers hand. 

"Your mother and I must go to Castle Cerwyn today, but we shall be back by evening tomorrow,"

"And what of Uncle Brandons words?" He questioned. 

The King in the South left the morning after Ilizabeth and Jon. After blowing through WInterfell with his mysterious presence and premonitions, the last three Starks were left to wonder about their future. Rickon found himself being the most worried seeing as to how he'd never lived through one before.

"What of them?" Sansa responded.

"What if something bad happens there?" He asked with a worried expression.

"Your mother will be fine. Fiercely protected by me and the rest of the Queensguard," Brienne reassured her son.

"I know just . . . don't be gone for too long,"

"We won't" Sansa paused to stroke some of the loose hair from his face. "There's something else,"

"What is it?" His eyes widened nervously.

"I'm leaving you in charge of Winterfell instead of Lady Hand Mormont," 

He froze, waiting for his mother to suggest her statement was nothing more than a jest, but she remained serious.

"What, why?" He replied, now adjusting his position on the soft mattress.

"You will be of age soon. Plus it's only a day. We never travel for such a short period of time so we figured this was the best opportunity to prepare you," She continued.

"Really?" His pitch rose slightly. 

"Of course, Rickon," Sansa teased him. 

"Well, how am I supposed to rule Winterfell confined to my bedchamber?" He snarked.

"Maester Horden will oversee you. And the Hand will be in too, to inform you of the duties I've left for you today," Sansa nodded.

A nervous expression grew over the boy's face. His body began to tense up the moment she said the words 'in charge', and Sansa knew her son better than anyone. She was very aware of his nerves when it came to addressing the people, because she watched Brienne behave in the same manner for the first three years of their marriage. 

"I believe in you, Rickon." She gave him a warm smile.

"As do I," Brienne chimed in.

"Thank you, mothers'" He sighed with a grin.

Sansa leaned over swaddling the boy up as if he were a babe. His eyes crinkled as a throaty laugh poured from his mouth. She caught a whiff of something foul, a stench steaming from the underarms of her son. He hadn't bathed since that night, and the longer he sat in this bed without a sponge touching his soft skin, the more his rancid oniony odor grew.

"Ugh, your stench is horrible, Rickon" She held her nose as she kissed the boy on his head once more. "I will send a handmaiden in to clean you up a bit”

Brienne placed a kiss on the boy's head too, informing him of the everlasting love they held for him before moving to open the door. Sansa said goodbye to her wolf; she feared the young pups' energy, size, and lack of ferocity would only serve to complicate their journey so she left her with Rickon. Hopefully by the time she returned, a name would have stricken her like lightning. They traveled to the North Gate, greeting everyone they passed along the way with a pleasant smile. Sansa did her best to keep her dress out of the snowy mud, her black leather boots grew dirtier with every squish. 

Six of the men dressed in the fine black armor already sat high on their horses. The last one held the elegantly decorated enclosure she was meant to ride in. The wood lacquered black with traces of silver crown wolf engravings on both sides of the small door. Then there were the rest of knights who stood tall in their mixture of silver full body plates and black piecey chainmail armor.

She strolled to the front of the fleet, stopping at the very first horse. Usually the Lord Commander would lead, but being that their Lord Commander was also the Queen she mainly rode in the carriage. Ser Galvin removed his black helm. His wet short curls were tossed around in the helm now forming small sparse spikes around his head. He laid his deep emerald eyes downwards waiting for the Queen to speak.

"Is everyone ready, Ser Galvin?" She smiled.

"Yes, Your Grace. We are ready to leave upon your command," He bowed slightly.

"I'm glad to hear it" Sansa nodded now exiting the conversation.

She traveled back to the carriage, taking the hand of Brienne, who held the door open whilst climbing inside. They sat comfortably against the soft red cushioning inside for a moment before hearing a few sporadic hyahs. The wooden wheels began to spin, grumbling against the ground as the carriage was pulled through the North Gate. 

Rickons gaze fell upon his long washed out feet. He wiggled the five abnormally overgrown nubs as he waited for someone to come in and help him wash up. The door opened and closed, bringing in a young girl from the other side. Her hair was covered with a head scarf but judging by the ink colored bushes that sat thickly above her brown almond shaped eyes, it was probably black. She held her porcelain hands together neatly against her front, her cheeks glowed a plush rose color as her eyes settled in on Rickon with a bright smile.

"Good morning, My Prince," She curtsied.

"Hello Eleanor, you look awfully happy today," Rickon smiled.

"I hear the Queen has left you in charge," Her voice raised an octave.

"My mothers' have hardly left this very room and people are already talking?" He groaned, adjusting his bad leg.

"Your mothers' have ruled for sixteen years peacefully. You getting stabbed on your own name day has been most riveting, " She sat at the foot of his bed. He looked at her blankly, now forcing her to think about the words that came from her mouth, "I'm sorry, that was ill-mannered of me, how are you?"

Concern grew on her face as she extended her neck to get a good look of Rickon's leg. Eleanor was Rickon's favorite handmaiden only because she was really one of his best friends. Apart from Ilizabeth and Nera, she was the only one who knew of his . . . affliction. He trusted her with all his secrets, thoughts, and feelings.

 Her father was a sellsword, and his father before him, and his father before him. They'd lived in Winterfell for as long as their family could remember. She too had been born slightly before the Battle of Winterfell which placed her a few years older than the twins. She'd only been a handmaiden for a year, and being that she and her mother hid in the crypts with Sansa during that night, Sansa personally made sure that their family lived the remainder of their lives comfortably. Eleanor loved Queen Sansa, as did most, and maybe even the Prince a little.

"Better," he answered, "Have you seen Maester Horden? I need him to clean my wound so I can get dressed." 

"I believe the Queen sent for him before she left. But we should probably get you washed up first" She rose to her feet.

Eleanor moved to the door near the window, disappearing for several minutes. She returned with a pale of soapy water, a spong, and a towel tossed over her shoulder. She places the pale on the empty nightstand on the right side of the bed now looking to Rickon to undress. He moved his slightly chilled fingertips to the small buttons in the middle of his long nightshirt, undoing them. His pasty white skin shined brightly as he exposed his frail chest to the sunlight pouring in from the window. Eleanor took in a deep breath as jostled the sponge around in the water. She tried her best not to make eye contact. She was too afraid that the moment she looked into his bright blue eyes she'd melt right then and there. Her crush on the Prince was obvious, especially to him. 

He raised his lanky arm out watching silently as she rubbed the sponge down his arm. They both naturally held their breaths as she moved the sponge all over his body. Across his chest, his back, his neck, his under arms. The way she looked at him brought on the urge to do something he never saw himself wanting, a kiss from a woman.

She tried her best to move swiftly, but when the arm supporting her weight buckled, sending her awkwardly into Rickons lap, she froze. Eleanor pulled up slowly, her face only inches away from Rickons. His warm short breaths fell against the lips he couldn't help but stare at. With sweaty palms and a palpitating heart he leaned in for the kill. He crashed his thin lips against her plump cushiony ones. He allowed for them to linger in the moment, hoping to find some clarity right then and there. 

Before he could find the answers he desperately searched her lips for, the girl pulled away quickly. A small gasp slipped from her mouth before her hands shut up to cover it. 

"I'm so sorry, My Prince" She shook her head. "I should not have done that. I should not have kissed the prince"

Her eyes bulged from her head as she paced the floor mumbling words to herself. Rickon watched her with a tilted head and an amused smile. As confusing as this moment was for him, it also sent a refreshing wave through his body. One strong enough to heal his wound and get him back on his feet within the second.

For the past few years his stomach ached whenever anyone would mention the idea of romance. He feared he'd been cursed with an affliction that would leave him deserted, unloved, and heirless. But to his surprise, he somewhat enjoyed kissing the girl. In the same way all his friends would talk about girls, he felt a rush of blood go to both his brain and his southern region, and the desire to do it over and over again grew larger the moment their lips detached.

"No, no. I-I enjoyed it," Rickon grinned nervously, "I think,"

Eleanors lips parted slightly, as if she were going to speak when the Maester entered the room. Wrapped in a thick stormy cloud tinted robe that fell down to his feet, holding the handle of a small rectangular box. The circular rusted loops linked together forming the official Maesters chain hung from the robe clinking together in high pitched harmony as he shut the door behind him. Sprung from his old wrinkled scalp were very fine strands of grey, unlike the skin along his jaw which was covered with full and fuzzy sones.

"Oh, My apologies. I didn't realize the young Eleanor was not finished with you yet," He bowed. "Hello"

"Greetings, Maester Horden. I'm actually just about through," Eleanor replied.

She pulled the towel from off her shoulder and gently removed the excess water that lingered behind. Her eyes remained locked on the wooden headboard just beside Rickons face. He wished she would look at him, his lips mouthing his inner hope autonomously. But she never did. Once the boy was dry, she was back on the heels of her worn down boots, shifting around swiftly while she put away the materials used for his bath.

"Maester Horden," She bowed, then turned to Rickon bowing again. "My Prince,"

Just like his mothers' and sister, she was gone like the wind. That was when the luscious chestnut curls he adored so dearly flashed in his mind, Alix. An anvil slowly lowered against his chest. Alix. He thought again. The boy he'd been secretly kissing in the horse stables during their lessons with Master Eddam for some time now.

When they first started to enjoy each other's company, before everything all the secrets of the North were unveiled to him, he'd flee his heraldry lessons with Maester Horden and meet Alix in the Godswood. He'd bring his lyre  and sing a sweet song as he effortlessly plucked away at the strings. His heart swooned whilst reminiscing on their time out there. The anvil grew heavier. Maybe he could tell him it was an accident, that it was simply a trial, that it meant absolutely nothing. That was the truth, wasn't it? Too busy being consumed by the dragon that was his thoughts, Rickon realized Maester Horden had not only finished cleaning the wound but asked him a question.

"My Prince?" He leaned in, now taking a good look at his pupils. The three lines sprouting from the inner corner of his eyes creased together as he squinted.

"My apologies, Grand Maester," Rickon shook his head. "Will you say it again?"

"I asked about the pain. Your wound is looking better, it appears the stitches are doing their job" He responded.

"Oh, it doesn't hurt at all when I'm resting. Only when I must walk. But I imagine a brief meeting with the small council is all that's in store for me today? So there won't be lots of walking around anyways,"

Rickon shifted to where his legs dangled off the bed before grabbing his cane. He motioned for Maester Horden to hold out his arm for extra support. The end of the wooden cane twisted into the stone as Rickon rocked backwards taking in a deep breath. He propelled forward to his feet in a rocky balance. His right hand supported the weight of his bad leg every time he took a step forward. Eleanor was long gone, and the boy still wasn't dressed. 

He walked very slowly on leg and cane till he reached his wardrobe. His eyes fell upon the smooth leather texture of the doublet before he grabbed it, pairing it with a black woolen pants. Rickon returned to the edge of the bed and slipped into his pants with the help of Maester Horden first. Then he slipped his long arms  in his custom made doublet, and threw the thick black fur over his shoulders neatly. He tied the string that closed the shirt tightly. The Grand Maester placed his boots on, and laced them up being that he could hardly bend in this condition. 

His fingers played in his hair until the ponytail was knocked loose. The boy raked the brush through the knots fearlessly as he was already behind his mothers very short schedule. Once he decided he looked something short of the few freefolk he encountered in his life, he was back on his wobbly feet. Maester Horden's robe and chains sloshed and clinked together and he moved to hold the door open for the Prince. Rickon hobbled out of the doorframe, looking to the two knights on guard duty currently, Ser Serlatos, and Ser Ferken. 

They waited until one of the handmaidens passed by, requesting that she watch over the wolves until the Prince returned from the meeting, before beginning to head towards the Great Hall. They walked behind the Prince, watching him with wide nervous eyes as Rickon fumbled down the stairwell. His cane occasionally slipped against the stone slicked by the snow covered boots of the knights passing through.Still he made it to the bottom, still struggling to use his cane as he trudged towards the Sept. Winter was still in full effect, sending harsh winds and white snowflakes through the air of the castle. One gust blew so hard it sent him backwards a few steps until he lost his balance completely and fell into the arms of Ser Ferken.

"Just, carry me the rest of the way," He groaned.

Without needing a mirror, he knew his scrunched up face was also burning a bright red color. His sky blue eyes glanced around the castle to make sure no one was laughing at the large prince being carried by a knight of the same height. 

They quickly brought the Prince back inside, only this time they were in the Great Hall. They carried him through the halls until they were outside of the chamber used for the small council meetings. Rickon was placed gently back onto the ground in front of large wooden double doors. The men spun on their heels, now holding their backs a few inches off the wall in a militant position. Their inner arms held the door handle for a moment, then they received a nod from the prince. 

Simultaneously, they stepped to the right and pulled against the wind whispering through the halls. The loud creaking door caught the attention of all the eyes in the room. A gloomy sort of sunlight peeled through the windows with rounded tops, four of them on both the west and the east wall. The men and women in the room rose to their feet, bowing while also  verbally acknowledging the Prince. 

Maester Horden clinked from behind the boy, finding his place next to Lady Greyjoy, who arrived just yesterday morning. They all stood stiffly waiting for him to take his seat so they could return to theirs. He hobbled and his cane thudded until he plopped into the chair at the head of the table. It's wolf head carvings symbolizing the Stark family name.

Being that the small council didn't reside in Winterfell permanently like the southern council did, Rickon had a hard time remembering who was who. Of course he recognized Lady Hand, Lyanna, Grand Maester Horden, and Master Eddam. His mother nor the usual second man, Ser Galvin, were not here to sit in for the Lord Commander who spoke for the solo vacant chair. All that remained was the man and woman to his right.

"Please forgive me, my Lord, my Lady. But remind me of your names and positions? I'm afraid I cannot recall," Rickon apologized, hoping to sound sincere.

"No need to apologize, My Prince. It's been many years since we've last met. Small council meetings are typically only held to discuss larger matters," He rambled. "I am Ser Ronald Hewitt of Old Castle, Master of Coin,"

The man's appearance left Rickon with a slightly unsettled feeling. He wasn't sure if it was because the man had a wandering eye that made it difficult to tell what he was truly looking at. Or if it was because his voice grumbled deeper than any man he'd ever heard. With every word he spoke Rickon felt the vibrations through the floor. His head full of hair was on the verge of greying, and the tip of his pointy nose stuck out like a sore thumb. 

He was darker than your average Northern. Rickon figured that Oldtown had to be a somewhat sunny castle seeing how far south of the north it was. His mind connected the link between the face and the name before nodding and turning his attention to the woman. Just as she opened her mouth to speak Rickon noticed the sea creature imprinted on the middle of her dark dirt brown chest plate. The Kraken.

"Lady Greyjoy, right?" His eyes squinted.

"Aye, My Prince. What gave it away?" She replied with a smirk. Rickon chuckled dryly, not actually finding the humor in that sort of rhetoric.

"I am glad to see you in good health, my Prince," Lady Lyanna interrupted. "May, we move onto more important matters now,"

Everyone turned their attention to the woman sitting in between Master Eddam and Grand Maester Horden.

"The Queens' are heading to Castle Cerwyn as we speak, but I fear we should be preparing for something greater," She said, her face more serious than ever. Come to think of it, Rickon hadn't ever seen the Hand smile, not even when she talked to her children.

"What are you referring to?" Lady Greyjoy asked.

"Castle Cerwyn will rebel against House Stark," She said plainly.

The room went silent. Rickon looked at the woman, wondering if she too had spoken with the Three Eyed Raven. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a smile formed on the faces of Lady Greyjoy and Master Eddam.

"Castle Cerwyn?" Ser Eddam laughed. "With what army?"

"If you think Lord Cerwyn and his boy were the only people in the North who felt the Queens' marriage was illegitimate, then you're even dumber than you look," She spat across the table.

"How dare you speak to me that way?" Ser Eddams voice raised in offense.

"You need to take things more seriously," She snarked.

"Ser Eddam" Rickon held his hand out the man with his lips pursed. "Lady Mormont, speak you thoughts, and speak them plainly,"

"The Queens' will arrive at Castle Cerwyn and deliver both the news and their remains without a problem. But the moment they leave, the Cerwyns will be in open rebellion against the North. Northern men are loyal and I get the feeling they won't take the beheading of their lord too lightly, especially if they agree with his claims," she explained, "I always knew the day would come, the day they revolted against us, and I fear that day has finally come,”

Chapter Text

Sansa pulled down the rectangular flap built into the wall of the carriage. It worked like a window, and was about half a foot in height and four in width. The concept was constructed for taking in the scenery, so highborn passengers wouldn't have to lift more than a finger to remain aware of the distance remaining towards their destination.

Her eyes peeked through the slit taking in the stillness of the clear river that ran all the way from Winterfell, past Castle Cerwyn and inevitably down into the sea past White Harbor. The small ripples of the stream moved in opposition to the Queen's direction, calmly and quietly. The sound of its gentle faucet-like flow paired elegantly with the subtle wind and rustles of the trees, which left Sansa helped to subside some of the anger that lingered within.

Brienne sat on the plush seat across from her wife, silently watching as she enjoyed the comfort of the river. She admired the way the orange, pink, and purple splashes in the sunset sky reflected onto her wifes porcelain skin. The way it warmed her pale tone and bright auburn hair, rendering her as effortlessly gorgeous as she always was.

"You are extraordinary," Brienne said, leaning over to place a hand on top of her knee. She rubbed her thumb back and forth between the smooth silk and the rough chiffon that fell over the Queen's legs. 

"This isn't the time for that, my love," Sansa said dismissively.

"What ever do you mean?" Brienne replied in a playful tone.

"I'm serious,"

"Alright, can I just have one kiss?" She pouted.

Sansa leaned forward now tugging on Brienne's armor where it gapped over her collarbone to pull her in for a kiss. For a moment she imagined they were elsewhere. Possibly in the comfort of their own chamber, or in the meeting chambers where they finally managed to sneak in some alone time for the day. Just as she moved to pull away Brienne reached out and grabbed her waist, pulling the wailing redhead into her lap as they both laughed at Sansa's flailing arms.

"Bri!"

"What? I just wanted you to sit in my lap," Brienne said before pecking a kiss onto her cheek.

"Are you trying to flatter me, Lord Commander?" She smirked.

"Is it working, Your Grace?"  Her hand moved down Sansa's back and over her butt where she squeezed it abruptly.

"Your Grace!" Sansa gasped fakely.. "Our present situation is hardly appropriate for this sort of behavior,"

"Well, I disagree," She grinned, "Can I have another kiss now?"

Sansa rolled her eyes before obeying her wife's request. She sat with her arms wrapped around Brienne's neck, and her legs resting on the rest of the open seating as she leaned in to kiss her again. Brienne snaked her arms around Sansa's waist, connecting them like links to a chain as she began to leave a trail of kisses on Sansa's neck.

"Are you through?" She asked.

"No," Brienne replied simply before attacking her neck again. Sansa squirmed and laughed, pretending like she wanted to break free from the grasp when in actuality, Birenne's lap was one of her favorite places to sit. An overactive imagination can guess a few others. "Now I am through,"

"My mind must remain clear and pure upon our arrival. Your kisses and roaming hands do not serve to make that any easier," Sansa complained.

"I know I just hoped it would relax you. I can tell you've been thinking about it since the very moment it happened," Brienne paused, "Do you regret killing them?"

Although Brienne was the one who swung the sword, her wife passed the sentence. She remained unsure as to whether or not Sansa felt guilt about killing the Cerywns, but having spent the past few hours in almost complete silence, she could tell something was irking her mind. Sansa shifted around, still remaining in the comfortable seat that is her wifes lap, before she answered.

"I do not know  . . . What do you think I should have done?"

"I stand behind every decision you make, my love" Brienne gave her a toothless grin as she tucked some of the auburn strand behind her ear.

"But if you were the one to pass the sentence, would you have done so?"

Brienne hesitated to respond. Sansa took her silence for a 'no' which didn't help settle her nerves as the carriage wheels turned closer to the Castle. She looked back out of the rectangular window and towards the river. She hoped to soak up some more of its relaxing qualities before having to tell another woman she killed her husband and son, but the beautiful stream had turned into the entryway of Castle Cerwyn.

She caught the attention of the men tending to the horses underneath the stables. They all stopped, dropping both their jaws and the brushes in their hands as the town slowly began to notice the banner riding through their front gates. The Queens' caught a whiff of the gut wrenching horse manure, turning their noses as the horses rode past.  The eyes of many fell upon the Queens' grand entrance, farmers, saleswords, knights, squires, Septas, children, elderly. It seemed the whole castle was outside, unsure of whether they should be rejoicing or worrying.Their courtyard was small, built on top of a raised earthwork and enclosed by tall wooden gates. Which meant it was nothing grand.

"We've arrived," Sansa's body stiffened as she moved back to her original place.

The horses came to a complete halt just before the open area where the knights trained. The clanking of Ser Galvins heavy armor mixed with the crushing crunch of the snow grew closer as he moved to open the carriage door. It swung open, now exposing the Queens to the cool air and the subtle warmth of the setting sun. Brienne stepped out of the carriage first. She immediately made eye contact with the people staring. No matter how many trips they took to Castle Cerwyn there wasn't a soul who didn't stop to take a good look at the great big Queen Brienne. She stuck her arm out formally, and waited as Sansa used it as a rail to step down from the carriage.

As she began to smile and wave warmly to the people, she noticed a few familiar figures in her peripheral view. Lady Kyra Cerwyn and their last living daughters. The woman was around the same age as Sansa. Her hair was as yellow as the sun, and her skin held a peachier complexion than the Queens'. She stood in a deep wine red gown with one hand on her back and the other on top of her stomach. Her face was faintly twisted up, as if she was experiencing discomfort while trying to mask it in the presence of the Queens'. Despite it being fifteen years ago, Sansa recalled feeling that same heavy aching feeling that coursed through pregnant women's bodies during the final few months.

Standing small and timid next to her, were two girls of the same complexion and similar features. Only their hair was a darker blonde, so dark that it was almost brown, resembling the late Lord Cerwyn.

She fought hard to cast aside the excess sorrow she felt for them. But, as much as she wished it didn't, their little faces reminded her of her own children at that age. The way they anxiously anticipated her approach began to fill the Queen with regret for yesterday's actions. Sansa tried her best to justify it by reminding herself of what they did to her son, and what they said about her family but still, this was harder than she imagined.

The knights belonging to Castle Cerwyn were dismissed upon immediate arrival, left to return back to their respective homes and posts before Sansa spoke with Lady Cerwyn. The Lord Commander and Ser Galvin assembled behind Sansa with their hands placed on the pommel of their swords. They followed behind Sansa whose poised yet powerful glide across the courtyard kept her perfectly placed crown as sturdy as a tree's roots. Everything about the Queen and her presence radiated power, her fiery red hair, her tall thin stature, her elegant royal gowns, the sleek armor of the men who accompanied her, and her largely statured wife.

It seemed as if every small sound had ceased the moment she stopped in front of Lady Kyra with Ser Brienne and Ser Galvin lingering just two feet behind her. The horses huffed, and the winds blew rough, but no one moved an inch or made a sound. Despite the uneasy animosity, Sansa smiled warmly as her gaze shifted from left to right to absorb the expression of each remaining Cerwyn.

"Your Grace, we weren't expecting you," She curtsied before turning to her daughters. "Girls, greet your Queen,"

"It- it's lovely to see you, Your Grace," The smaller girl curtsied.

"A pleasure, Your Grace," as did the taller one.

If Sansa recalled the events of the realm properly, which she always did, the taller girl was Wayla Cerwyn, she had eleven years and was Cley's first daughter. And the shorter one was Cyrenna Cerwyn, who had nine. Being that Castle Cerwyn was of short traveling distance, the Queens had attended every name day celebration for each of their children.

"It is lovely to see you as always, Your Grace," She tried her best to keep eye contact with Sansa, but her eyes occasionally wandered past her, searching for something or someone.  "I do apologize for not being able to attend the celebration,"

"Nonsense, a woman in your condition is not fit for travel," Sansa responded. The woman's eyes wandered off to the side again.

"Forgive my abruptness, Your Grace, but is my husband and son in your company? Cley and the knights have yet to return from the Prince and Princess' name day celebration. We've heard no word. No ravens, nothing" She rambled with an anxious smile, "I'm beginning to worry,"

"Lady Kyra, if we could speak somewhere more privately," Sansa motioned towards the castle.

The woman's smile dropped slightly. Her gaze shifted behind the Queen once more, only this time she glanced at the stone cold expressionless stare of the Lord Commander and Ser Galvin. Normally the vicious looking wolf painted in red at the center of their chest plates provided her with a sense of comfort, but something about the black of its eyes suggested otherwise today.

Suddenly she drew in a sharp breath. Her eyes went wide, and her hands clung to the shoulders of her daughters. Sansa didn't need to turn to know what the woman was seeing. The people of the castle remained silent enough for her to hear her knights' armor chain armor rattle as they grunted tirelessly. They hoisted the two blue chests that were slightly scuffed from their journey in the luggage cart into the air and began to walk towards the women.

The Queen could hear Lady Kyras' heart racing pounding against the inners of her chest with each step they took closer to them. She watched as the Lady grabbed her daughters by their wrist and yanked them towards the castle without uttering another word. Luckily the Maester of the castle was nearby. He took the two girls far away from the area of the castle where they intended to discuss things.

Lady Kyra waddled with a hand on her arched back as she guided them through the hall of the castle. As opposed to the walls of WInterfell, their stone was mainly off-white, and the roofing was a light sandy shade of brown. The halls were slightly warmer than it was outside and were heavily decorated symbols and tapestries representing the Old Gods. It was no secret that House Cerwyn was made up of those who faithfully believe in the Gods, and if there were anyone who were unaware of this fact, all they'd have to do is take a look at their wall. Although they did not possess their own Godswood within the castle walls, there was one a mile from the mainland that constantly had people walking to and from it.

Despite the awkwardness of the looming silence between the Queens, Ser Galvin, and Lady Cerwyn the scent of a suckling pig currently being roasted somewhere in the hall was able to distract Sansa for the moment. Apart from the lemon cake she smacked on during the trip over here, she hadn't eaten anything since the morning and her stomach was beginning to growl like the wolf she was. The leathery texture of the skin, the juicy inside of the thighs, it all managed to make her mouth water until they stopped in front of the private chamber.

"Ser Galvin, you may man the door," Brienne instructed him.

"At once, Your Grace,"

Sansa tried to swallow the lump stuck in her throat, but she couldn't. She looked back at Brienne, who did her best to glance down with reassuring eyes before they entered the chamber. It was much smaller than the one in Castle Winterfell, and just like the exterior, the stones were composed of a much lighter material. It reminded her of the south, only they were still wearing surcoats, furs, and gowns made of wool and other thick warm materials. She looked to the flames dancing at the ends of a three pronged candle. The way they whipped back and forth agitated the Queen, as if it was dancing at her, taunting the guilt she buried deep down inside. Then her gaze fell upon their House sigil which was woven into a tapestry hung against the wall, a large grey battleax.

"My apologies, Your Grace. I am never quite sure how to address you when you are accompanying the Queen as acting Lord Commander. Do I refer to you as Ser, or Your Grace?"

"The titles are all lost on me, I do try to remain 'Lord Commander' when leading the Queensguard but as you can see, it doesn't always stick," Brienne replied. "Whatever's easier on the tongue,"

"Lady Kyra, I fear the news I bear is too unfortunate to receive standing," Sansa gestured to a chair, while sitting herself.

Brienne moved to the side of the woman, sticking her arm out so she could use it for support as she lowered her center of gravity into the chair. She sighed as she plopped down with her back slapping against the chair roughly.

"Thank you, Your Grace," She nodded with pursed lips.

"Lady Kyra, your husband and son were charged with treason. Your son outwardly spoke in opposition to Queen Brienne and our son before stabbing and permanently wounding his leg during the celebration." Sansa spoke diligently, "When I gave your husband the chance to speak on his son's actions, he admitted to teaching him these beliefs. They were both immediately executed for their crimes".

Lady Kyra barely knew how to respond, for a moment she stopped breathing, letting the finality of her husband and eldest sons' death sink into her existence. Despite the solemn look on Queen Sansas face and the lightless energy that loomed over the chests brought out into the courtyard, she prayed for otherwise. Any mother or wife would've.You couldn't be good at either of those things if you didn't hold onto hope.

She felt a great dissonance fester inside. Somewhat like how she imagined the maggots infested her dead husband and sons' faces just outside the hall. Lady Kyra didn't want to admit that she felt a greater loss in hearing about her son's death. She simply didn't have enough fingers on her hands to count how many times she'd warned her husband about his words. That although she agreed with his claims of their relationship being somewhat abnormal, the Queens' were married before the Gods, and House Cerwyn had pledged fealty to House Stark for centuries. She warned him that his obsession with his perception of the Old Gods' words would land him a permanent place right next to them.

As for her Mikah, his actions came as more of a surprise to her. She'd never heard him speak ill of the Queen or her children. Not even when Lord Cerwyn would rejoin them for the evening angrily, after receiving word from a raven sent by the Queens' of Winterfell. In fact, if she was recalling correctly, the boy had begged his father to strengthen their family ties by arranging a marriage between him and Ilizabeth when they both came of age.

"What- that's- that's impossible. Mikah . . . he's a good boy. He wouldn't," Her voice croaked as it grew heavy and full of sorrow.

"I wouldn't lie to you. And I certainly wouldn't kill an innocent boy" Sansa reassured her.

Her head hung low, causing some of her bright blonde hair to darken as it soaked up her seemingly endless flow of tears. She placed her palms into her hands, shaking her head in complete distraught and disbelief. Sansa's posture stiffened with every hysterically aching gasp the woman drew. The faces of the young girls outside clouded her mind, especially being that they were almost the exact same age as she and Arya were when their father lost his head. Her gut wrenched in thought of their small stubby fingers and child sized gowns. Their resemblance to the Lord, and the tiny wooden knight Cyrenna clung to, it all wrung her heart out like freshly washed linen.

"I've brought their remains back so you can have a proper burial. I know this may not mean much coming from me, but I . . .  I-I'm very sorry for your loss, Lady Kyra" Sansa hesitated.

Within the remorse of her action, was reason. She couldn't view herself as solely a mother or a wife. Because she was more than that, she was the Queen in the North and sometimes that version of her took precedence in her decision making. A raven, the remains, and the returning of their knights would have sufficed instead of taking a half day's journey. But apart from wanting to be respectful, the Queen had a duty to the North. She was a woman of her honor, kindness, and opportunity, yes. But most importantly, she was a woman of her word. A true Stark, and that also meant taking the time to sniff out those who may share the same beliefs as their late Lord.

"I know the news I bare is quite troubling. But I need to ask you something," She spoke again. Lady Kyra looked up to the Queen, the white's of her eyes now incredibly veiny and red.

"Do you share the same beliefs as your husband and son?"

Lady Cerwyn's wrenching heart suddenly sprouted legs and began racing so fast she thought it'd rip out of her chest. Her eyes widened as she looked at the serious stare of the royal woman in front of her. She began to shake her head side to side profusely.

"N-No, Absolutely not! I-I attended the royal wedding!" She stammered with her eyes shifting back and forth between the frightening expression of the women, "I thought th-the Lord Commander was more than a suitable match for you, Your Grace" She stammered.

When the cold blank stare of Queen Sansa did not soften, panic struck Lady Cerwyn like God thunder. Sending her out of her chair and on her knees with her head on the ground, begging for mercy.

"I tried to tell him to stop! I swear, Your Grace. I am innocent, my children, they're innocent!" She wept.

Just as Sansa fixed her mouth to press the matters further, Brienne gently grabbed her arm. She turned her back to the weeping woman now looking at Sansa with sympathetic eyes.

"My love," Brienne whispered. "She's with child,"

Sansa made direct eye contact with Brienne, then softened her expression. The Lord Commander insisted that the woman return to her seat. She did her best to reassure the trembling woman that nothing would happen to her nor her children, but the tone of the woman wearing the crown suggested something different.

"What of those residing in your castle?" Sansa inquired further.

"What of them?"

"If Lord Cerwyn felt safe enough to whisper ill conceived notions about the Queens family to you and your boy. There must be others he felt comfortable doing the same with too," She paused, "I want their names,"

Brienne wanted to intervene again. She wished to pull Sansa aside and discuss a better way to go about this. Of course she shared the same grievances but she figured there had to be a better way to approach the situation. One that didn't involve scaring the child out of Lady Cerwyn. But, Brienne didn't want to over step. Afterall, she was the one who insisted that Sansa was the Queen. Brienne wanted to be no more than a consort, maybe less if that's possible. So she said nothing.

Lady Kyra wracked her mind frantically. Her thoughts ran too quickly to form a complete thought. All she could think of was the cold dead faces of her husband and son. Only now she could see her two daughters, her unborn child and herself, right beside them. The flesh of six dead Cerwyns, filling the bellies of slimy white cream coated maggots.

Finally, like the halted wheel of a carriage, her mind stopped on the knights she overheard last week. She recalled them laughing and mentioning something about a 'woman cock'. Just when she thought her panic level had hit its cap, it began to spill over at the thought of giving the Queen their names. Now that her husband was dead, and her children had yet to come of age, she would act as the Head of her House. She had a duty to protect them, but she also had a duty to her Queen. And what was duty if she and the rest of her family were killed right here, right now.

"I only know of a few, Your Grace" Her tone dropped in defeat.

"Their names" Sansa repeated herself once more.

She sat fidgeting with her fingers in silence for a moment. Then she began to spill like a drunken man on his eighth chalice of wine. She repeated the title 'Ser' so much that it began to sound like she was saying shhherr. With every knight's name that fell from her lips, the venom brewing within Sansas blood grew more and more poisonous.

Brienne obeyed her wifes command to retrieve some ink and a quill from the other table in the room. She smashed the point around in the dark liquid, now pressing it to the paper reluctantly as she traced the names of the future deadmen. Once the woman was done with her spiel of traitors, and Brienne was through recording it, Sansa wrapped up the meeting by rising to her feet.

“Where is your husband's brother, Rickard Cerwyn?” She asked.

“I am unsure, Your Grace,” she paused, “I believe my husband sent him off to another castle. Which? I do not know.”

"Thank you for your cooperation, Lady Kyra. Again, I am truly sorry for your loss" Sansa apologized as sincerely as her cold tone would allow her. "Seven blessing to you,"

Lady Kyra rose to her feet as well. She curtsied as well as her stomach would allow while the Queen and her consort exited the hall and made their way back to the exterior of the castle. Now that the sudden awe had settled within the people, the grounds were a lot more lively. The merchants transported their goods and earnings, the children cried to their mothers and the knights participated in all out sparring sessions. Though it came from across the courtyard the noise of the blades' steel scraping against each other echoed within the castle walls. Occasionally it would hit an uncomfortable pitch, one that would leave a lingering ring in the Queen's ear.

As she moved through the castle grounds now with the company of the faithful seven, she kept her head on a swivel watching closely as the people carried out their daily activities. Although she smiled and spoke to them as if nothing was wrong, she truly wanted to see which people grew nervous in her presence.

Maybe she even felt bold enough to question their loyalty right in front of everyone. But that would cause a panic, and sniffing out rebels was a more sensitive task, one best done in full discretion. With every step she took, the armor of the seven clanked loudly. Its metallic echo sent a small wave of uneasiness to everyone within their line of sight. Like the strong death-grip of a sea threatening to swallow a crew and their ships.

They found themselves right in front of the sparring corridor of the courtyard where Sansa suddenly stopped and called for Ser Galvin. He rushed to her side and bent over slightly so he could hear her well. She covered her mouth with her hand and whispered an order into his ear. He nodded before taking a slight step in front of the woman, now clearing the phlegm from his throat.

"Ser Tristifer Cain. Ser Seldan Sonnit. Ser Eddard Moore. Ser Jon Arrel. Ser Talwin Grain, and Ser Royce Black. You've been summoned by the Queen," Ser Galvin bellowed.

All of the knights had ceased sparring. The common folk and castle workers kept their eyes shifting back and forth between the Queen and their tasks as they moved through the grounds with their heads somewhat tucked into their bodies. The tone of Ser Galvin instilled fear in most, but not in the same way Brienne's did.

Although she didn't entirely agree with what was going on right now, she couldn't help but feel her wife was trying to shut her out. Why else would she ask Ser Galvin to call upon the men and not herself, the Lord Commander of the Queensguard. Still, she remained silent and in militant position with the rest of the knights,

Several seconds passed by and none of the men whose names were called came forth. Just as Ser Galvin built up the volume to call their names once more, he noticed the eyes of the people shifting to a few different men. He acted quickly now pointing to the armored knights given away by the nervous glances of their people. All except Brienne acted immediately, grabbing the arms of the five men and pulling them right in front of the Queen. Still they were missing one.

"Your names?" Ser Galvin turned now facing the men.

Although they were composed of different physiques and appearances, they all wore an expression of nervous wonder and reeked of the same scent. Pure fear. Ser Galvin approached the shortest one first.

"Your name, I will not ask again,"

"Ser Seldan Sonnit, Ser '' He replied with a whimper.

He moved down the list of men until he checked off every name. He returned to the Queens side and reported that everyone was present. She nodded before ordering the guard and a small group of Winterfell soldiers to guide them all outside the castle gates. Sansa didn't need this to be a public affair. She wasn't evil. She simply needed to make sure that everyone beneath her fell in line.

Brienne was one again, feeling reluctant to follow behind the orders of her Queen as they were dragged outside to the field east of the castle. And once again, she followed anyway. The light gurgles from the stream no longer provided a comfortable sense of relaxation. Instead, when it was paired with the subtle breeze drifting through the trees, and the stillness of the aroma of the land it radiated something quite unnerving. As if it were the final moment before something life changing happened.

The extra knights Sansa called for were here to carry torches as they walked down the hill between the village and the castle. Sansa led the fleet looking out upon the sliver of the sun that remained peaking over the horizon, dangling over the edge of darkness. Then she looked up at the tiny sparkles forming in the sky before shutting her eyes for a moment. The thoughts that raced within her mind finally settled, allowing her to think over the details of the situation one last time.

"I have heard some very troubling news about you five," Sansa began. "But to start, does anyone happen to know where  Rickard Cerwyn is?"

"He was sent to Torrhen's Square with a few other knights. Lord Cerwyn sent him a few days back. He hasn't returned yet," The fat one spoke.

"On what grounds?"

"I'm not sure, Your Grace" He replied. For a moment, no one said another word. Then a somewhat handsome young man who identified himself as Ser Talwin Grain spoke up.

"Your Grace, we haven't done anything wrong!" He expressed.

"Aside from speaking outwardly against your Queens, their marriage, and children you mean?" She snipped.

Silence washed over once more, allowing for the wind and trees to fill the space. She watched each of the men gulp in realization. Their faces resembled the pleading Cerwyn son more than the Lord. This time she was able to recognize their fear as something more than just existing for their own personal sake. She thought maybe they were sorry, maybe they didn't mean it.

"It will never happen again, Your Grace." One bowed his head.

"Never again, Your Grace" Another did the same.

"Please spare us" The last one bowed as well.

Still remaining upright was Ser Talwin Grain and Ser Seldan Sonnit. The fear in their eyes still lingered, but their pride remained stronger. Sansa looked at them with a slight smirk, as if she was amused. She found it humorous that even in their final hours men could remain so stupid and stubborn.

"A marriage between two women is not natural, Your Grace. There is another man out there more deserving of your position," Ser Sonnit spoke.

Ser Bael Snow reached to draw his sword but Brienne's hand reached out first. She grabbed his arm and gave him a stern look, now making him put away the sliver he managed to get out. Brienne kicked the man face down into the dirt. She hovered over him, getting closer as her face began to turn a beaming shade of red. Although the man's words bothered her some, what really agitated her was everyone's persistence in making matters worse. She already feared possessing the ability to contain her wife from killing more men, and their blatant disrespect only served to complicate that.

Sansa took a few steps closer to Ser Talwin. She waited for him to utter words similar to the man beside him. She secretly wished for it; she wanted to see their heads roll down the hill, just like their lord and his boy. Sansa hesitated for a moment, then she shook her head desperately trying to knock her mind loose from the web of dark thoughts. She reminded herself of her position, her duty, and how the Queen she wished to rule as, would never think something like this.

"Why now? Why not rebel when I was first betrothed?" She asked him.

"Back then we didn't know we had allies." He answered spitefully, "The North will be in the Old Gods' good graces once again. Just as soon as you and your bastard children perish"

Tossed back in the web of darkness, Sansa saw nothing but black, and this time Brienne couldn't blame her. There wasn't a single fiber of her being that cowered in hearing that there were other houses conspiring to usurp the throne from her and her family. Her brother had already uttered the words, and she figured it'd be best to strike first. She knew what needed to be done, and she wasn't afraid to do so. Just as she opened her mouth to give the command, her eyes fell upon Brienne's. They stared back at her, holding a bitter disdain for the emotions she felt.

"I stand behind every decision you make, my love" Brienne sighed.

Sansa's eyes went dark and ruthless. She nodded and Brienne gave the command for Ser Galvin to draw his sword. The twins assembled by the side of Swer Talwin and him still. Ser Mathew and Ser Craig did the same for Ser Seldan while Brienne and Ser Galvin lifted their swords into the air.  Blood spilled out of them like a fountain now staining the snow as seeped down to the soil of the First Men. Their bodies dropped with one simultaneous thud. The rest of the men shook violently, now staring at the pool of blood forming beneath their dead comrades.

"Now, what do you three have to say for yourselves?" Sansa asked.

"Your Grace, it was mindless humor. We swear it- it will never happen again,"

"Mercy, please,"

The three cried and pleaded hysterically for their lives. Sansa's expression grew softer as she approached them. She bent down slightly so she could get a better look at their faces. Her hands caressed the cheeks of the men taking in the feel of their rough warm skin. Then she stepped back, crossing her hands together and placing them on her lap.

"We could send them to Castle Black, my love" Brienne spoke up. The defeated tone of her plea was obvious.

"Kill them, too"

Chapter Text

After riding eighteen straight days on horseback for the first time in her life, Ilizabeth finally stood with her uncle, sore and small, outside the gates of Castle Black. Seeing as to how she remained in the North and her name day had come and gone like the ever changing seasons, they tried to make as few stops as possible. Most of them pertained to rest, bathroom breaks, or feeding themselves and Winter who quickly doubled in size. He was no longer the tiny pup she and Jon could hold in their arms, but a heavy beast who still had plenty more growing to do. In spite of the goat he killed and devoured as they passed through a series of small villages. Still the journey to Jon's home beyond the remained many miles off, and the journey to the Land of Always Winter was even further.

Her back ached, but not more than the innards of her thighs, or maybe it was her core. After the eleventh day, she could no longer pinpoint exactly where it hurt. All she knew was that the journey wasn't nearly as entertaining as she imagined it to be. Although she desperately wanted to collapse onto anything deemed remotely comfortable, the satisfaction of arriving at their first checkpoint kept her upright, for now. The sun had been rising in the east for a few hours, casting a frosty winter morning dew over the castle with its light. Despite the subtle warmth of the rays, Ilizabeth snuggled further into her fur overcoat. She nervously listened to the chatter coming from behind the wooden doors that prevented her from seeing anything beyond the dark cobblestone walls. Ilizabeth heard many stories about the men who resided at Castle Black.

What once used to be a brotherhood sworn to protect the North from freefolk and white walkers, had become more of a home for cripples, bastards, and broken things. While some of the population consisted of what little remained of the men of the Night's Watch, most of the men here were the less fortunate with no other place to go. Some were also men who were accused of committing crimes that didn't necessarily cause for execution, like thieving and raping. But they typically came from the southern region. Ilizabeth recalled the few men her mothers had forced to take the black. There were exactly three, and all of them had been repeat offenders when it came to stealing. Their mothers typically saw thieves as those in need and tried to do their best in providing them with that, but some people never learned.

A horn sounded into the sky, then a husky voice commanded for the gates to be opened. After a few heavy footsteps rustled through the snow, they began to peel open loudly. Jon pulled the horse with the carriage first, and Ilizabeth followed behind. The people on the ground ceased working, their pails remained empty, their saddles unfinished, and their horses untamed. All in sight of not only a high born girl at Castle Black, but to those who recognized her, the Princess of Winterfell. She tried not to look upon every face here, but still she caught some. They didn't look as lifeless as she remembered her uncle described some of them to be. He dismounted his horse, and collected the reigns of Ilizabeth's horse before excusing himself to put them in the stables where they belonged. They were only meant to stop and rest here for a day, come next morning they'd be on the other side of the Wall, heading deeper into Winter.

Despite having most of the castle's attention, her eyes remained fixated on something much larger, what remained of the Wall. She recalled hearing about the seven hundred foot high structure, fortified with ice and magic to keep wights, wildlings, and other threats from reaching their civilization, but hearing and seeing were two different things. She also recalled hearing about how a good portion of it came down, taking the Eastwatch castle out with it. Still it remained immensely intimidating from Castle Black to Shadow Tower.

"If you want, we can go up there," Jon said, snapping her back to reality.

She directed her attention to the man who returned to her side with Winter and two chests held in both hands. Then she looked back up at the Wall. If she stared any longer she feared the whole thing would come toppling down over her.

"I don't know . . . it's pretty high up," Ilizabeth took a few steps back.

"It's not that bad, I promise," He began looking around the castle grounds, in search of someone. "Where is the Lord Commander?"

Ilizabeth was usually much better at remembering names, but at the moment she couldn't recall who was in charge of Castle Black. She blamed it on the exhaustion from her journey. Plus, she'd never met the man before, therefore she really couldn't be of any use in the search.

"Well, let's just get settled and then we'll take a trip to the top," Jon shrugged.

Ilizabeth followed behind Jon, and Winter followed behind them both. Half of the people resumed their work and the remaining continued to stare as they walked up the snow covered stairs and into the castle. She tried smiling and waving but instead of waving back, they instead diverted their eyes to the ground and rushed past them.

"Am I the cause of all this attention, or is it Winter?" Ilizabeth questioned.

He looked over his shoulder, smiled and looked back ahead, "Probably both,"

They walked through the hall, and passed a few doors before stopping at the one before the last. He set the chests down in front of the chamber that appeared to be unoccupied and held the door open. Winter flew past them, almost knocking Ilizabeth over as they tried to enter at the same time. The chamber was nothing spectacular, and had a similar look to Winterfell only it was much more bleak and run down. A long square of light shined onto the floor and wall through the window at the opposite end of the room. It was cold, and in much need of some fire.

Jon swiftly dragged the chests inside and allowed the door to shut loudly behind him. He collected the materials from on top of the fireplace and struck the pieces together a few times, then he tossed the small flame into the pile of semi-burnt wood. Jon looked around the room allowing for the crackling fire to grow big in silence. Although this wasn't the exact room he stayed in during his time here, they all looked the same and it brought back memories. Some of those memories weren't too great, but he hoped to spend more time thinking of the positive ones.

He watched Ilizabeth plop down on the bed. She laid on her back with her arms sprawled out and let out a loud dramatic sigh. She didn't look exactly like Sansa, but the mere image of her being here reminded him of the time his sister was here. Winter inevitably joined her on the bed. He stood over her, wagging his tail wildly as he licked all over her face.

"I don't think I realized how much I missed you mother, she was always a pain," Jon laughed.

"How so?" She sat up, petting WInter's head.

"Quite the know it all," He replied, now sitting beside her, "And the worst part was, she was always right,"

"Yes, she usually does have good intuition," Ilizabeth grinned.

"You're a lot like her," He added.

"Someone's gotta have sense, and God knows it isn't Rickon." She laughed.

Jon only let the girl sit for a minute, then began pestering her about seeking the elevator shaft that would take them to the top of the Wall. Just as Ilizabeth swung the door open, a large man stood on the other side of the doorway. His tunic was black, as were his mittens, pants, boots, and overcoat. He looked to be around the same age as Jon, maybe a bit older. He wore his hair shaved almost completely bald, and his face just the same. She took a few steps back, now staring at the man who stood over her by at least four inches.

"I swear these men are the sorriest lot I've ever had," He sighed while shaking his head, "I tell them everytime. When someone comes through those gates, to come and find me,"

"Lord Commander Humble," Jon grinned before pulling the man into a hug. They clung to each other in smiles and compliments.

"I was starting to think you'd returned to us for good. When you first came through you rushed right past us," He practically yelled.

Jon recalled the man having a tendency to speak over an appropriate volume. It was always useful when they were outside, fighting through the harsh winter winds. But when they were inside, he nearly burst their eardrums. They did their best not to visibly retract from the booming sound waves that came from his mouth. Instead they took a few steps back, hoping that the distance would soften the blows.

"Sorry, am I shouting again?" He chuckled before knocking his palm against his left ear a few times. Then he spoke softer, "Better?"

"It's alright. Lord Commander, this is Princess Ilizabeth of House Stark," Jon introduced the two.

"Oh!" He quickly bowed. "I did not know I was in the presence of the Queen's daughter. My apologies, Princess."

"It's alright. It's nice to finally put a face to your name, Lord Commander." Ilizabeth said, "Thank you for hosting us for the night,"

"It's an honor, Princess"

Ilizabeths eyes continued to examine the man all the way down to his leg, where his handless arm dangled. Just looking at it made her wrists ache. As soon as her mind began to curate reenactments of what may have happened he spoke again.

"I lost it in the battle against the dead," He said as if he could read her mind.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare,"

"It's alright, you're not the first and you won't be the last," He snickered.

A loud commotion came from outside the door. It sounded as if some of the brothers had gotten into a squabble over the last piece of mutton. Lord Commander Humble excused himself from the doorway and hollered something from the balcony before returning to the pair. This time he noticed Winter as he trotted towards the doorway eagerly.

"Is this one friendly?" He took a step back.

"Yes, Winter is very friendly," Ilizabeth said.

Winter took a few slow steps forward, now sniffing the pant leg of the Lord Commander. He reached his hand out and stroked the top of his head gently.

"You're not as scary as Ghost was," He kneeled so Winter could lick him. "How is the old boy anyways?"

"Ghost died a few winters ago," Jon said grievously, "Old age,"

"Oh, I'm sorry,"

"Hey, that's life," Jon shrugged.

Ilizabeth never asked her uncle about his wolf. She figured he wouldn't go anywhere without him, and if Jon returned to Winterfell alone, it was because Ghost physically couldn't be at his side. Her mind quickly lingered to the rest of her family's wolves and their fates. Despite only having him for less than a month, she couldn't imagine having to say goodbye anytime soon.

The name Humble had been bouncing around the backside of her mind for a while. If Septa Helicent were here she'd be incredibly disappointed in her for not recalling their house origin, banner, and kinfolk. She uttered the word under her breath until it finally struck her.

"House Humble, that's in the Iron Islands is it not?"

"That'd be correct, Princess,"

"Lord Bartimus is your father?" She inquired.

"Brother," He corrected her.

"Might I ask how you wound up here?" She asked another question.

The man did not respond at first. Instead he and Jon exchanged an uneasy grin. Ilizabeth immediately felt bad. Normally she held her tongue, while her brother pried into people's personal lives. She figured must've grown more curious in his absence.

This place intrigued her in the same way the Dreadfort did. She'd always wanted to venture there and see the first freefolk populated House in the North. Getting to see Lady Faran and her soldiers on occasion simply wasn't enough. Castle Black wasn't led by a Lord or a Lady, it didn't have a line of succession, nor people working under the snobby family of some Great House. It was a family made of men cast aside from society, whether it be lawfully or socially, and that impressed Ilizabeth. Especially being that she also came from a family that wasn't exactly traditional.

But the part that stuck out to her the most was a man from the Iron Islands winding up here. Although the Princess had only encountered Lady Yara Greyjoy a handful of times, she always remembered slightly fearing the men who accompanied her. Their teeth were always yellow and spacey, their skin always covered in grime, and their eyes were typically beady, like they were starving and insearch of their next meal. She would always be accompanied by a member of the Queensguard, but still their presence remained unnerving. They were borderline savages, and were known for drowning their enemies before ever thinking to send them to the Wall.

"The men don't usually ask each other that, not until they've known each other a while at least," Jon informed her.

"Oh, my sincerest apologies, Lord Commander. I didn't mean to be intrusive, I seem to have let my curiosity get the best of me," She apologized profusely.

"It's alright, If the princess is asking, I shall answer," He smiled flashing his crooked teeth, "My father was the first to notice that I couldn't hear for shit around my eighth name day. He and my mother argued about it for years until finally, he threatened to drown me and have my younger brother sit at the head of the house when he went. My mother begged him to send me here instead."

"That's terrible . . . I'm so sorry that happened to you," She said with utmost sincerity.

"Why be sorry?" His volume began to increase again, "My father figured me useless just cause I'm half deaf, and while he sat and acted as bannerman for the Greyjoys, I went on to save all of Westeros from the wight walkers. Ending their terror forever. You tell me who's useless,"

"That's a rather positive way to look at it,"

"A lot of the men sent here are in need of a little positivity," He responded.

Jon invited the Lord Commander to accompany them on their trip to the top of the Wall to which he politely declined. He mentioned something about overseeing the newcomers who arrived a few nights back then exited the room. Ilizabeth commanded Winter to stay just before joining her uncle back outside. They walked across the hall, and crossed the castle ground where the people no longer started. The trail over her overcoat dragged through the snow and mud as they moved through the courtyard where the stairs to the elevator shaft was. Now, on top of having to deal with whatever old oniony smell that managed to combat the outside air, she had to worry about a filthy overcoat.

"Uncle, what is that awful smell?" She asked, covering her nose.

"Stew," He laughed.

She held her nose until they were behind the square elevator fenced in with steel and wood. Jon closed the door behind them and took a step back. The man standing by the large old wooden lever used all of his force to push it right. Then the elevator began to lift. It creaked and groaned, sounding as if it were in pain from lifting men and cargo up and down for eight thousand years. Ilizabeth couldn't help but look down. She nervously watched as the people grew small. She could feel her heart pounding in her fingertips with every foot they grew higher.

"The first time I came up here I was with my Uncle Benjen," Jon said. "He told me he wanted to be here when I saw it for the first time. And that he was leaving to go investigate reports of wight sightings,"

"Were they really as frightening as mother says?" Ilizabeth asked.

She knew very little about the events of that night. Rickon had asked Brienne about it but like many of the notherns, she refused to speak on it. It was Sansa who spoke of her ancestors erupting from the crypts they'd been buried in for centuries, groaning and chomping as their bones sprinted at the women, children and elderly hiding there. She'd still feel a weird feeling in the pits of her stomach whenever she thought back on it.

"They were,"

As they approached the top of the Wall Ilizabeth found herself snuggling into her overcoat while taking bigger breaths. The elevator came to a stop, leaving them suspended in the whistling air. She stood behind Jon as he opened the steel door, then the wooden gate. He led her down the small walkway made of ice. The walls came over both of their heads, blocking their ability to see anything beyond a few short feet in front of them. They passed by a few men dressed in black garments, similar to their Lord Commanders. The reformed crows hovered over the circular fire pits, shivering as their arms crossed over their bodies in a half assed attempt to warm themselves. Jon took a sharp right around the corner, disappearing from Ilizabeth's sights for a moment.

When she too turned the corner, she stopped in sight of a short alleyway just before the ledge. Jon ducked under the wooden 'x' used to blockade anyone from accidentally falling off, and stood on it fearlessly. Ilizabeths legs wobbled as she inched closer to the man. She wanted to grip the wall for support, but it was sleek and icy and would most likely cause her to lose her balance, rather than keep her upright. She took a deep breath in and held it as she ducked under the structure. Ilizabeth didn't want to let it go. She figured even the slightest gust of wind would send her falling to her death. Still she did, and to her surprise, she was still alive.

Ilizabeth managed to gain some of her composure back. Just enough to allow her to look out beyond, into the North. There was always wind when you were suspended this high into the air. It blew snow across the land in cloud-like gusts, curating a ghostly fog over the forest of white. There were thousands of trees, and from where they stood, they looked to be no bigger than the size of ants. An airy feeling grew inside Ilizabeth. One that was familiar. One that struck anytime the words 'beyond the remains' were uttered. It was a comfortable feeling, that same sense of comfort Winterfell gave her.

"Wow,"

It was all she managed to come up with.

"Every northern should see the Wall, it's a great reminder of all that's happened here," Jon said proudly.

"It's not as frightening as I thought," She admitted.

"Try climbing it, that was almost as scary as the dead," Jon laughed.

Ilizabeth snapped her head left. She held a long stare at the man, who seemed to be completely oblivious of her shock.

"You climbed the wall?!" Ilizabeth asked with wide eyes, "Why would you do that?"

"That is a very long story," He shook his head.

"One you'll have to tell me on our journey to the Frostfangs," she accepted, "It's not like we don't have plenty of time,"

Silence washed over the two like a wave on the shore of the Shivering Sea. The winds whistled harshly. It ruffled up the hair that was loose, and caused the parts that were braided to occasionally whip against her face. Although the North felt like a distant home, it also felt eerie. Like something was always lingering in the forest, or behind a door, waiting to jump out and turn their world upside down.

"Do you think it'd be possible to stop at Storrold's Point on the way?" She asked.

"Storrold's Point? That's in the East, practically near the shore of the Shivering Sea," He informed her, "We're heading in the opposite direction,"

"Oh," She replied quietly.

"What's at Storrold's Point?" He raised a brow.

"Nothing, it's just . . . I was just hoping, maybe the woman in black would be there,"

"The woman in black? What do you want with her?"

"She's sort of the reason Rickon and I exist, uncle. I just figured she would have some information on the land or . . . maybe she could tell me why I was chosen to help the free folk," She expressed.

Jon let out a long sigh. He knew of his niece's feelings too well. After all, he had been 'The Prince Who Was Promised," before. The only difference was that Jon learned of his true destiny after accomplishing it. Ilizabeth had been sitting on the cryptic words of a sorceress for over a year now, and none of her answers grew clearer.

"Maybe she'll turn up, I was near the Lands of Always Winter when she approached me," He suggested.

"I hope she does," Ilizabeth uttered hopefully.

"I'm sure you will have your answer, Ilizabeth. One way or another, what is supposed to be uncovered always manages its way to the surface," He replied.

Ilizabeth found comfort in her uncle's words. They sounded wise. And not the sort of wise some of the elders in Winterfell instated they had simply because they lived to sixty plus, but the kind that radiated from someone who had experienced a lot.

"Didn't your mother give you a map?" Jon snickered in reference to her previous question.

"Yes, I just haven't had a chance to look at it. The North is a large territory," Her pitch raised in self-defense.

"I'll have a look at it with you tonight,"

"Is the freefolk territory really that bad?" Ilizabeth asked.

Jon didn't respond immediately. Instead he leaned up against the wall on his left, and kept his sights on the world of white ahead. Ilizabeth took his long silence for a yes, and every second that went by, her imagination painted a picture with decaying conditions. Rotted trees, collapsed homes, blackened crops, and starving people. The thought of it began to make her stomach knot with anxiety.

"Yes, it is," He answered.

"How many have died so far?" She feared the answer to that.

"At least a few hundred, probably closer to a thousand,"

"How did it happen?" She wondered, "I mean I understand them destroying homes and other structures, but how did they manage to ruin the soil?"

"No clue," He replied with a defeated tone. "All I know is when us freefolk returned to the North, things just started rotting, and now everythings practically gone"

"What if the land out west is no better?"

"I don't think the dead have ever been that far," He answered.

"What if the dead weren't responsible for what's happening?"

Jon never stopped to think about that. What else could it have been? Everything was fine before they started to move across the far North. Still, as much as it made sense, he couldn't be sure what was causing the issues, and frankly he didn't care. Regardless of cause it was happening, and it needed to be dealt with. But if the land out west resembled the east even in the slightest, the free folk would no longer be free. They'd be forced into a more organized level of socialization, one where they bent knees, and addressed higher beings as their titles rather than their given names. The thought of convincing the wildlings to do anything again taunted Jon. He wanted to be done unifying and leading people, yet it seemed to follow him no matter where he ran.

"If the land out west is ruined, the freefolk will have to bend the knee to your mother," He answered.

"And what's the likelihood of that happening?"

"Most of them would rather die than give up their freedom," He admitted.

Neither of them wished to discuss the possible corruption of the lands out west. Although the thought remained in the back of their mind, the less they spoke of it, the less they worried about the chance of it being a reality. Ilizabeth and Jon remained on top of the Wall for as long as their bodies allowed. But once the princess' fingers began to turn yellow, they were forced to retreat back down the elevator. She returned to her room while Jon wandered through the castle, searching for the brothers he recognized. Although the day was just beginning she figured it wouldn't hurt to catch up on her rest. Before she knew it they'd be venturing out beyond her mothers' jurisdiction.

Chapter Text

Rickon's bright auburn curls tossed in the breeze he curated as he rushed across the castle grounds. He stumbled over his empty weapon belt which slipped down his waist everytime his cane hit the floor. Both of his boots were untied and something about the lining of the pants he wore underneath his doublet didn't sit quite right. Sapphire followed behind him, her tail raised high and her tongue hanging out as she most likely assumed they were going to play a game.

This was the second time he dragged his feet towards attending to his squirship duties, and after the last, he never wanted to be late again. Ser Malson made him hold two pails filled with water, with his arms extended outwards for what felt like hours. If his elbows buckled, the time restarted. If any water spilled, the time restarted. By the end of the day his arms were rendered uselessly numb, and refused to follow whatever brain signals sent to the dangling noodles. He hoped his injury would grant him a pass, especially being that they were meeting in a different corridor than they did yesterday. Although he could barely remain upright without the support of his wooden stick, Ser Malson managed to find other ways to ensure he continued to progress.

The boy rose on time, but when he went to his mothers' chamber to pick over whatever remained of their breakfast, the two managed to pull him into yet another petty disagreement. Animosity stood between the two. Rickon noticed it, half of the small council noticed it, and even some of the castle workers. For the last fifteen years, whenever they roamed the courtyard, they'd move in unison as their arms were always linked. But ever since the couple returned from Castle Cerwyn, they stood at least a foot apart, silently scowling.

Despite their attempts to keep their squabbles within their own ears, Rickon spent more and more time with the knights of Winterfell. They were the ones who informed him about the events that transpired at Castle Cerwyn. At first he was somewhat shocked to hear that Sansa was the one who possessed that kind of vengeance, then he remembered the state she'd been in since everything transpired that night. He remained unsure of what to think on the matter. He only wished that his mothers' would find their way back to a strong united front, for everyone's sake.

After stopping to tighten his belt he continued on until he finally reached the courtyard. Ser Malson stood alone in the center behind the small groups that passed through the castle ground. His left hand sat over the pommel of his sword, and his helmet was tucked underneath his arm. As the prince and his wolf grew closer, Ser Malsons eyes traveled downwards, almost to the floor.

"What's wrong with your bottoms?" He said only speaking from the left side of his mouth.

Rickon stopped a few feet in front of the man, catching a small glimpse of the black furball as his eyes traveled to his feet. He noticed the lacing of his boots sprawled across the dirty slush curated by the melting snow, but nothing else.

"What do you mean?"

"Look," He physically pointed this time.

His eyes traveled back downwards, now taking note of the awkward distance between the top of his boots and the bottom of his pants. There were short at least three incches, giving the boy a rather foolish look than a proper one. 

"I swear mother just had these made," He scoffed.

"I think they've got your measurements wrong," Ser Malson laughed.

"The last time they took them was the fourth time this year," Rickon rolled his eyes, "I think my legs are growing by the night,"

"You're probably right. The cane makes it hard to tell," He shrugged.

Rickon hated using that stupid cane. His wound had been healing for a little over a month. Yet still, he was bound to it. Grand Maester Horden suggested that it would be a while before he could move without it, let alone partake in any sort of swordplay. His fight with Mikah changed him permanently, and not just physically. It seemed as if fighting and beating someone who possessed so much unwarranted hate for himself, brought about a new form of confidence. He began to like fighting, and not just because he was good at it. Before he always saw himself wielding a sword because his size and name suggested he was meant to. Now, instead of viewing it as a way to prove himself, he saw it as a way to prove them wrong.

"I've got your favorite today," He motioned to the two pails placed off to the side.

"Ugh," he sighed, "I happen to have a rather exceptional excuse for being late today,"

"You've been injured for over a month, Rickon. You know how long it takes you to walk here," He replied while putting his helmet to the side, "Besides, even if you were on time, you'd still be doing this. It's all I've got planned for a cripple like yourself,"

Rickon chuckled before lightly shoving past the man as he hobbled over to the crates to sit and tie his boots. At first he loathed his time with Ser Malson, then he grew to tolerate it, and now it seemed to be something he truly enjoyed. For a moment he pondered over whether or not the feeling was solely platonic, then he remembered how creepy his face looked when he smiled. The entire left side of his face would beam brighter than a flame, and the right would continue to droop. He looked as if he was melting away. Despite him being a pretty decent person, Rickon could never form feelings for someone with such an unnerving face.

It helped that he was only three years older than Rickon, too. Instead of being an old grumpy veteran like a lot of the older knights, he was both skilled and unserious, and more importantly, he could still recall the days of his youth. Ser Malson reached down and dug inside the third pail. The young blonde pulled out a large piece of raw meat and flung it towards Sapphire who happily pounced on it the moment it hit the floor. He took a small step back, wincing at the sight of her sharp white teeth tearing apart the meat as she growled.

"A beast like that really should be kept in the kennels or something" He said with his eyes still on her.

"Sapphire's a good girl. She won't harm anyone," Rickon shrugged. "And don't let the Queen hear you talking like that,"

"Like what?"

"You called me a cripple," Rickon smirked.

"Take these pails, cripple," he laughed and picked up the pails.

Rickon extended both of his arms and waited for Ser Malson to place the handles in his grasp. As soon as he took them his shoulders practically popped. The first few minutes were hard, then it started to fade, and then it came back again.

"I do hear she's been on a bit of a warpath as of recently," He replied.

"That would be an understatement," Rickon groaned as he fought to keep his arms up.

"Me, Wesley, Krystane and a few of the other men were traveling down the Kingsroad just yesterday, and we didn't see a soul from Cerwyn. Normally we run into them all the time, some are pretty good friends of mine. Seems like the Queens got 'em hiding with their tails tucked between their legs," He said.

Rickon could barely even process what the man was saying. Between the dull throbbing of his leg, and the burning ache in his shoulders he could only concentrate on how much he was hurting. He straightened his spine, hoping that it would somehow help him muster enough strength to continue.

"Serves 'em right anyways. I'd have killed Lord Cerwyn and his boy," He continued. "The others too,"

"Really?" Rickon managed to get out. At this point he was sweating,

"They're the Queens in the North, and good ones at that. They may not have been responsible for what happened to you, but they supported Lord Cerwyns beliefs, they've said nasty things. It's all the same,"

Rickon's arms began to quiver. He didn't even have enough strength to let them down gently. Instead his arms completely gave out, dropping both buckets on their sides. The water poured out into the slushy dirt, addings to the numerous puddles in the area.

"A lot of people say nasty things," He let out a loud sigh.

"You almost sound as if you disagree with the Queens actions,"

"All I know is, if my mother killed everyone who ever said anything nasty about our family, she'd be forced to decapitate half of the North. It just doesn't seem right," He huffed. "We probably should not be speaking of this anyways,"

"You're right," Ser Malson nodded. "You dropped the pails by the way,"

"I noticed," Rickon hunched over.

"That wasn't long enough, you'll have to start again," He bent over to pick them up.

"What is the point of this, if not punishment?" He threw his arms up.

"Your arms are the size of bean pods. You get strong by carrying heavy things, armor, shields, swords. But since you're a cripple now, we'll have to find another way to better your strength,"

Rickon gasped before shouting, "They do not look like bean pods!"

He waited until Ser Malson disappeared with the pails to hold out his arms. He flipped the over on both sides twice before sighing defeatedly. Ser Malson was right, they were quite long and skinny. Rickon huffed now readjusting his position into a more determined stature. Just as the prince began to fall into his own thoughts, Sapphire started to bark. His head shot up in her direction. He searched through the faces of the handful of people who nervously reacted to Sapphire's bellowing bark before his gaze finally settled on Alix.

Rickon suddenly felt the urge to flee, just as he had been doing whenever Alix approached him for the past few weeks. Kissing Eleanor didn't just make him feel guilty, it confused the hell out of him. He was terrified that his nerves would cause him to say the wrong thing and if Alix found out, he wouldn't have any words to explain himself or what it meant. He panicked while watching Alix's smile grow wider in every step he took closer to him. Rickon reached for his cane, but he knew he wouldn't be able to move fast enough. He was practically sitting with his back pressed up against the wall.

Alix stopped to greet the wolf, then settled a few feet in front of the prince. He was covered in chainmail armor, and kept his helmet in his right hand. His face was grimy, and so was the steel protecting his body. Rickon could tell he had just come from sparring, with actual blades of steel.

"Good morrow, my prince," He said.

"Hello," He replied simply.

They both fell silent. The carriage wheels creaked, the people talked, the horses huffed and trotted, but them, neither of them said a word,

"Have I done something to upset you?" Alix asked.

"No,"

"Then why do you act as if I have?" He moved closer. "Ever since your name day you've been acting rather strangely towards me . . . did I say something to offend you?"

Rickon could barely look him in the eyes. He could tell just by the way they burned into him, that they'd break his heart. Behind Alix's soft voice and sweet face, held an immense amount of pain, and Rickon was the source. He debated flat out telling him. He'd plainly state that he kissed a girl and it meant more than he thought it did. Or maybe it meant nothing. That he regretted it, or maybe not.

"No, you . . . you were kind. You didn't laugh when they jested, and you did your best to defend me without compromising the nature of our . . . relationship. What more could I have asked for?" Rickon said glumly.

"Then why do you act as if the end is nearing?" He laughed relievingly.

He sat on the crate beside Rickon and stared across the courtyard for a good while. He slid his hand on top of Rickon's knee hoping the boy would finally look at him. When he did, he was met with the pool of blue that seemed to welter with tears.

"Because it is for us," Rickon uttered.

"What do you mean?"

"We-we can't fool around anymore, alright? I'm almost a man now and I have other things that require my attention,"

"You're kidding right? Fool around? Rickon I-" He paused, then softened his raising voice, "I love you,"

"I-" Rickon choked out.

"Rickon," He said emotionally.

Again, Rickon said nothing. Alix rose to his feet abruptly which brought about a small level of attention on the pair. After all, they were sitting in the middle of the courtyard. He took in a deep breath, then settled on an expressionless look. For a second he hoped Rickon would say something in protest, but judging by the way the boy barely looked at him, he knew it wasn't coming.

"You're going to lose everything you've ever loved trying to please a realm where nearly half refuse to love you or your family back," He griped, "I do hope the crown is worth it,"

Before Rickon could think of anything to say he turned and stormed off. He thought about following after him, confessing the truth and hoping for the best. But for now, his mind was too clouded. Even if Alix were to forgive him right then and there, he still needed to figure something out about himself. So, he decided to let him go. As Rickon rubbed the sleeve of his doublet across his face, Sapphire wiggled her way into the small space between his legs. She pushed her long nose up against his leg and whimpered.

"I'm okay," He sniffled while petting her. "I'm okay,"

While Rickon continued to wait for Ser Malson to return with the buckets, the Queens exited their bed chamber for the first time today. Brienne held the door open for her wife bitterly. Despite it being somewhat early in the day, her throat ached from the whispered shouting match they'd recently put on pause. She stared straight ahead, with her spine stiff and her expression blank as the redhead passed right by her. Sansa was just as furious, and her face was just as expressionless, if not more. Once the door closed, Brienne assembled by her wife's side and walked with her arms crossed behind her back. They walked to the end of the hall, and down the steps in complete silence.

"Are we going to be short with one another for all of today too?" Brienne asked in clear frustration.

"I do not wish to fight any longer, my love" Sansa sighed.

"Neither do I," Brienne responded, "But you haven't actually listened to a word I've said all morning,"

"That is not true,"

"It is," Brienne insisted. "Every time I try to bring it up, you cut me off or find a way to slip away from the conversation,"

"Why must we keep going on about this?" Sansa scoffed.

"Because, you went too far, and you refuse to see it," Brienne raised her voice.

Those in the hall did their best to keep their eyes forward. To appear as if they were kept to themselves and did not hear a single word that came from either of their mouths. But they did, and the Queens knew it. Sansa stopped dead in her tracks. She felt like she was a pot under a fire, boiling as the heat intensified underneath her.

"Please, do not forget your position . . . Lord Commander," She spoke with a low tone.

Sansa continued walking, this time leaving Brienne behind. For a moment the Lord Commander was frozen in disbelief. She thought that maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. That her wife hadn't actually said that. But she did. Brienne began to feel her face grow hot as her fists balled up on their own. She stormed behind the woman, who entered the private meeting chamber seconds before she did. Sansa did not break for a second. She showed no remorse for her words, and little care for the fact that Brienne was clearly enraged by her comment.

"You are being unnecessarily cruel," Brienne stated. "To me, to the knights, the servants, and especially the people at Castle Cerwyn."

"I command you to let this go," Sansa huffed as she sat behind her desk.

"I am just as much Queen as you are!" Brienne argued.

"I couldn't get you to acknowledge that for the last fifteen years" She raised a brow. "Now you do,"

Brienne hadn't ever seen this side of her. Sansa was always the reasonable one, the rash one, the one with a level head. Yet something inside her had been churning her into the worst for the past month. Brienne poked and prodded but still she couldn't quite figure out what exactly was fueling her rage. The Lord Commander let out a loud sigh and plopped down in the wooden chair beside her wife. Sansa pulled scrolls from the netted bag, broke their seals, and read them as if nothing was happening. Her expression remained intentionally blank, as if she was suppressing whatever she was actually feeling.

Brienne's eye caught the script they received from Castle Black almost a month ago. It had been held down against the top of her desk with two small stones since the moment it arrived.

'Mothers' and Rickon,

Uncle Jon and I have made it to Castle Black safely. The men here were very kind to me, and now we are headed beyond the wall. I shall see you all again very soon.

                                                                                                                                                                                                   - Ilizabeth Stark'

Ilizabeth insisted they send the raven. Although its contents lacked importance, she figured if there was any way to keep communication the whole time, her mothers would want to, but a single scroll would have to suffice until she returned back on their side of the North.

Brienne missed her daughter's pale face, her heart warming smile, and her wise words. Brienne couldn't help but think things would be different if she was here. Maybe she'd be able to find the words, as she always did, to help guide Sansa back from whatever dark place she was rolling in.

"The North was your home long before it became mine. You were meant to lead them," Brienne finally said defeatedly. "Not I,"

"That feeling seemingly subsided when you outwardly expressed opposition towards my judgment in front of Lady Kyra and those men," Sansa uttered begrudgingly.

"I apologize for undermining you in a public setting, but I won't apologize for simply doing so. In that moment, I chose to serve the realm,"

"And how is that, might I ask?"

"Sansa, you should not have killed those men. Especially the ones who showed remorse, why can't you see that?" Brienne shouted.

"The punishment for treason is execution," She responded dryly.

"You can't make words a crime punishable by death,"

"I do not make the rules,"

"But you do and you enforce them," She said, "How do you plan to thwart every single man and woman who's ever said anything awful about us?"

"Hopefully with the help of the Lord Commander of the Queensguard." Sandsa remarked, "Sworn to obey their Queens commands, keep her secrets-"

"Provide her with counsel," Brienne cut her off.

"You also swore to defend my name and honor," Sansa's frustration grew larger, "Which, might I add, is something we share,"

"I also swore to provide protection for all people, degenerates, wives, lovers, mistresses, and low-borns. That is what I did," she pasued, "Or at least I tried to,"

They silently stared at one another. It was obvious they were both worn from the bickering, yet still frustrated and passionate enough to keep going. They argued in circles, and this conversation seemed to be yet another roundabout.

"Bri, I understand you are upset with me. But this will not bring any of them back. Bickering, will not undo what is already done," Sansa attempted to dismiss the conversation.

"But you do not seem remorseful, my love. You do not seem to recognize that severity of what you've done andthat is what worries me,"

"That is because they do not deserve my remorse!" She shouted.

Sansa's face had turned to bright red. Her breathing hastened, her veins bulged from her neck and forehead, and her hands ached from the fists she made. Brienne watched as something volatile rattled inside her wife.

"Everything I have ever done, everything I have ever lost, has been for the sake of the North! I've lost my entire family Brienne!" Sansa clutched her stomach as she started to choke up.

"My father, my mother, my brothers, slaughtered, all in the name of the North. It was Jon and I who had to grovel from house to house only to be refused by those who'd already sworn their allegiance. And when they crowned me Queen all I've ever asked in return was a chance at happiness,"

"I've only ever wished to love you freely," She sobbed, "To love our children freely, and still they whisper, and make up cruel lies about us,"

The ice that had been forming around Sansa's heart had finally started to crack. Both Brienne and Sansa had been keeping their emotions and words bottled up, but for Sansa things were a whole lot more intense. She was truly cracking under the pressure of it all, and Brienne felt an immense level of guilt for not noticing. She rose to her feet, and moved around the desk to comfort Sansa who immediately stood and threw herself in Brienne's arms. For the first time in weeks, they truly embraced each other, and that only made Sansa cry harder.

"For years we did nothing. We ignored the jests and gossip and now our son has been permanently wounded," Sansa spoke through the sobs. She curled into Brienne's chest, barely able to get any intelligible words out as she continued to cry, "For a moment I thought we'd lost him, and it would've been my fault. I am the Queen and I allowed for their hate to brew for far too long,"

Brienne sighed in finally realizing the immense amount of guilt that was eating at Sansa's normally pure heart. The redhead was blaming herself for what had happened and because she couldn't take any of it back, she was lashing out at anything in an attempt to correct things. To relieve herself of some of the pressure.

"You cannot blame yourself for the actions of a madman," Brienne rubbed her back slowly, "It was Lord Cerwyn who coached his boy. He wanted to wound an innocent boy. To speak against the Queen's rule in front of them both. That is what they sent their minds out to do, and there is nothing you could have done to change that,"

Sansa tried her best to truly hear Brienne. She was tired of blaming herself and running from her own guilt. Deep down inside she knew the blonde was right, that being more reprimanding in the past would not have been able to change the course they were currently on. She knew that no matter what she did or said, people were going to have their own feelings about it, and she didn't want to be a Queen who punished people for having an opposing opinion. At the end of the day, she wore the crown, she made the rules, and the majority saw her as a just Queen who seemed to enjoy the company of non-traditional women.

"We did not lose Rickon," Brienne said while rubbing her back, "And those men at the castle, they weren't the ones with the sword,"

"But they could've been,"

"But they weren't,"

Brienne could only empathize with her wife so much. She didn't know what it was like to watch her father lose his head, to be paralyzed with fear after hearing your brother and mother were killed at a wedding, and to remain under the control of the people who gave the order. People who seemingly wished to parade you around like a fool for their own entertainment. To watch your little brother have his body pierced into the ground with an arrow shot by a man who used yours for his own gain. After enduring betrayal and hurt for so many years, she became paranoid about the possibility of it happening again. Only this time, she was no longer powerless. In fact she was quite the opposite, she was in the most powerful position anyone could be in.

"You deserved so much, my love," Brienne sighed as she pulled back, "But you overcame all of that, just like you will now,"

"How?," She panicked, "We both know I've agitated House Cerwyn. I cannot bring them back, any of them,"

"What's done is done but we can make better decisions in the future," She met eyes with Sansa, "And from this day on, I vow that I will further embrace my duty as Queen. I'm sorry I've left you to do it all alone,"

Brienne pressed her hands against Sansa's cheeks, cupping her face as used her thumbs to wipe away her tears. She pulled the woman into a long kiss, one that was clearly overdue. Although her eyes were red and veiny, Brienne could almost see some of the life return to her eyes. She watched the dark clouds that formed over her bright blue eyes begin to drift away.

"I'll even wear that stupid crown," Brienne added.

A slight grin spread across her lips as she chuckled. She extended to her toes for another kiss but the three knocks at the door interrupted the act. Her hands flew across her face, desperate to shed her appearance of distress so she could greet whoever was at the door without the embarrassment. Brienne moved to the door and revealed the Lady Hand Lyanna. She held a small cream colored scroll in her left hand, and an expression that quickly gathered the attention of both women.

"My Queens," She bowed slightly.

Brienne motioned for Lyanna to enter before closing the door behind her. Sansa returned to her seat behind the desk and Brienne found one of the seats sat across from it. Lyanna continued to stand, as she usually did, and handed Sansa the scroll without saying another word. Sansa rolled it in her hand, flipping it so the seal would face upwards. It was silver, and had a battle ax on it. She paused and made eye contact with Brienne for a second, then returned to crack the seal. Sansa didn't bother to read the words to herself first, she already knew what it would say, and the other women in the room needed to hear it for themselves too.

"House Cerwyn refuses to swear fealty to the deviant Queens' and their unnatural heirs. For centuries House Stark has ruled the North and House Cerwyn has followed valiantly behind them. That bond was severed the moment you spilled the blood of our men, including our great lord and heir. The time has come to take off the crown, and step aside so that I can restore good faith to the north. I urge you to concede the territory at once, shall you refuse then we will have no choice but to rebel," Sansa paused, "Rickard Cerwyn,"

Chapter Text

Ilizabeth's legs ached in unimaginable ways. They burned so hot that her once solid bones had seemingly turned to a more squishy liquid as she dragged her feet up the slight incline. She could barely go any further, no matter how many nights of rest she and Jon acquired. To her it seemed as if they were no longer walking with a destination, but with the sole purpose of torturing her limbs. Ilizabeth was not only suffering from the internal pain of their agonizing journey but from the frost bite she was sure she felt spreading to her fingers and toes. Despite being dressed in the thickest set of clothing and fur she'd ever worn, she still felt a disconnect from different parts of her body. Especially her nose and ears. They'd gone completely numb, and occasionally she felt an urge to check and see if they were still there.

Everything beyond the wall was white. The clouds resembled pieces of torn up cotton that covered the entire sky and the rapidly setting sun. The snow piled up to at least five inches and only got thicker the further west they traveled. And the faces of Ilizabeth and Jon, which seemed to grow paler by the second. The only things that weren't, were the naked dried out trees. Jon had reported that although everything was cold and stiff, the woods of the North always remained tall and full of life. But that was no longer the case. Every bit of the tree was on the verge of turning black, the roots, the trunk, the branches, the leaves. As if the woods were engulfed in flames for weeks, leaving nothing but brittle char behind.

The conditions beyond the wall only served to make their journey more difficult. They were nearly through with the food and water given to them by Lord Commander Humble, most of the channels that formed from the Bay of Ice had dried up and they hadn't seen a live animal since they spotted the small sheep Winter hunted and devoured all by himself. Seeing as to how the wolf now stood at her a few inches before her waist on all fours, they didn't wish to fight over the rationality of sharing it. Still they went on with their journey, as they were finally, almost there.

Aside from being slightly dehydrated like the rest, the wolf seemed to be doing pretty well. If not thriving in the harsh weather conditions. While Jon and Ilizabeth practically dragged their feet up the mountain they'd been climbing for some time, Winter trotted ahead of them effortlessly.

"You alright?" He turned to check on the girl for a second.

"Mmhm," She nodded.

"We're nearing the end of the Giant Stairs should be approaching the hut soon," Jon said while reading the map,

"Good," Ilizabeth huffed.

"It's been well over a year since I left the area, so stay on your toes. Just in case there's something out there,"

"Like what?" She tried to mask the fear in her voice.

"There's no need to worry. I'm just saying,"

She failed.

In spite of the sudden fear her uncle's words placed within her, Ilizabeth hoped for a nice big chunk of bread during their next rest stop. She'd been fighting off the urge to finish it since the day before. For a moment if she closed her eyes and directed her head in the right direction, she could smell the food the cooks at Winterfell made. The sweet glazy garnish of the suckling pig, the freshly diced onions and fish in her stew. If she continued to walk, maybe she'd finally get a taste of it. At least that's what she told herself in order to keep going.

Alas they'd spotted it. Like a single distant flame in the darkness of the night. They stood less than a mile from the hut Jon had marked on their map. It was built many years ago, and seemed to be holding out in spite of its collapsing surroundings. The joyous satisfaction of their arrival made Ilizabeth want to run towards it. That way they could finally be out of the inevitable darkness and declining temperature, tucked into the small room where she hoped they would be able to conjure up a fire. Instead she and Jon continued to walk, as they both exhausted any excessive energy they stored days ago.

"Are there beds?" Ilizabeth asked.

"More like cots," He replied.

"Are they at least comfortable?" She already knew the answer to that question.

"Probably not,"

They trudged through the snow until the final crunch of Jon’s left boot compacting the snow left them standing a few feet in front of the hut. Enclosed by a wooden palisade, the walls of the hut stopped just a few inches over Jon's head, and had a roof that came to a point only it looked deformed. Like the center was caving it and the whole thing was destined to collapse at any moment. Ilizabeth naturally took a few steps back, imagining that if it didn’t collapse on her, the dust from the ancient wood would pile together and get into her lungs. 

"Uncle, is this safe?" Ilizabeth asked nervously.

"I doubt it'll come down on us through the night," He responded while moving towards the door, "Unless you want to try and find another cave to sleep in?"

A cave would not do. The last time they slept in a cave she remained awake the entire night. Every crack, crunch, and reverberated water droplet kept her in fear of someone or something finding them. Caves were not meant for highborns. Not for princesses like herself.

"No, no. This will do," She practically skipped behind him. "Come along, Winter,"

Jon held the door for the princess and her wolf before closing it behind them. The hut was composed of a singular room, and an outpost outback where they were meant to do their business. It was eerily dark. Had it not been for the orange dusky glow of the sun, and the poor architecture skills displayed through the small gappings of the wooden wall panels, they wouldn't have been able to see a thing. He removed their packs from his backside and sat them in the right corner, then his eyes began to trail the room. Ilizabeth managed to find one of the benches placed along the firepit without tripping or stubbing a toe. Not like she would feel anything anyways, the thick wool sleeve the freefolk typically tied over their shoes came in handy. The device was only used by the freefolk and the men at the wall. So formidable that it not only kept the cold out, but blocked out other unpleasant feelings. She called for Winter, but the wolf ignored her and continued to sniff out the area.

Jon found the kindling for the logs already placed in the firepit, and began fiddling with the flint until he got the fire started. He stood back up. As the radiant glow began to grow bigger, it casted a shadow over Jon's features. To Ilizabeth, he didn't look anything like her mother. Granted she never had the pleasure of meeting her mothers other brothers, Robb and Rickon, but she thought Bran somewhat resembles the fiery redhead. And her twin brother resembled them as well. Maybe Jon looked like Ned, or the mother he never knew of.

"Do you still remember what Grandfather Ned looked like?" She wondered out loud.

"Aye," He responded, now sitting at the bench across from her.

"Do your looks resemble his?" She inquired further.

"Not entirely," He laughed.

"You must look more like your mother then," she paused, "Did you ever get to find out more about her? Or maybe even meet her?"

Jon hesitated in slight confusion then the realization hit. It was him who suggested his brother and sisters never tell another soul about his true lineage. Despite Sansa telling Tyrion anyways, she never did tell another, not even her children. 

"My mother died during childbirth," He answered vaguely.

"Oh, that's terribly sad. I didn’t know,"

"That's alright it was years ago," He sighed.

The pitter patter of Winter's claws scraping the ground settled as he laid beside Ilizabeth, facing the warm crackling fire. He panted while his greyish-pink tongue hung off to the side.

"I should probably go and see if there are any drinkable streams nearby," Jon rose to his feet. His expression was tired, and brooding as usual. "Stay put, and keep your sword at your side just in case,"

The man was back on his feet already. He stealthily shifted through the tight room, grabbed the canteens, and exited the hut. Ilizabeth did as she was told and searched through their things by the door. A sword was typically long and shiny, making it hard to miss. Although it stuck out clearly from the pack, Ilizabeth found herself searching for something else. She figured she would only take a bite of their last piece of bread, then return it as if it was nothing. But instead she found a book. It was thick, and mostly black. Except for the red three headed dragon sigil at the center.

“Targaryen History,” Ilizabeth read the cover out loud. “What’s he doing with his?”

The book completely derailed Ilizabteh from her search for food. A small wave of guilt began to build as she thought about how it was rude to go through other people's things. Granted she didn’t know what she’d find, but that was precisely the reason she was taught to only be concerned with her own affairs. 

She stuffed the book back inside the pack and took hold of the pommel and scabbard. She examined its fine detail for the hundredth time as she moved back to the bench. The casing was made of sleek dyed leather and the actual blade was made of normal steel. Its pommel had a wolf on it, same as her mothers, same as the Queensguard. Except the wolf was black instead of red, and the blade was a bit thinner than most. Ilizabeth never imagined herself being interested in sword fighting. The process of killing was gruesome and was the complete opposition of someone as ladylike as herself. But when she swung the steel, and dodged her opponents, it almost felt like she was dancing. 

After spending nearly all her time sparring behind the protection of the castle walls, and her mother Brienne, Ilizabeth still couldn't quite fathom the idea of having to kill someone with it. She never expressed that to Brienne, despite wanting to. She figured it would only serve to make Brienne's worries grow stronger and that once she stepped out from her small bubble, the idea would settle over her easily. Like a crashing wave on the shore of Tarth. But it didn't. It remained something she still feared, something she very secretly hoped she wouldn't ever have to do.

The cots they were meant to sleep on were only a few feet across from Ilizabeth. They faced each other, with the headboards pressed up against opposite walls, and the footing within an inch of touching. She could practically hear the way the thing would squeak throughout the night, without even laying on it. Yet the thin bedding was calling her naming, begging for her to lay and ignore the whining sounds it made as she shut her eyes. But she wanted to wait for Jon. Winter found his footing again. This time he whined as he pressed his cold wet snout between the crease behind Ilizabeths knee.

"What is it boy?" She looked down at him. His bright egg yolk colored eyes connected with hers and he continued to pant with his tongue out. She placed her hand on top of his fuzzy white head and rubbed it just the way he liked. "I know you're probably hungry and thirsty. Do you mean to do your business as well?,"

The pitter patter started up again. Winter quickly assembled by the door and looked back at Ilizabeth, who was now watching him over her shoulder.

"We should wait for Uncle Jon," She told him.

He barked. Then he barked again. And again. After the last he rose on his hind legs and began scratching the door. His claws were of course sharper than an average dogs and actually left marks behind. She feared if she let him go at it any longer, he'd tear down the only thing that solidified the outside threats, outside. Ilizabeth rose to her feet in a sigh. They barely lifted from the ground as she moved to the door. The moment she twisted the handle and pulled the door toward her, Winter spinted back out.

"Winter!" She called after him.

She moved to the front of the doorway, looking out into the darkness as it almost completely took over the light. Her eyes went wide in a slight panic and in the hopes that it would help her see him. But with most of his coat blending in with the terrain and the dark abyss lingering a few feet ahead, there was no luck. Ilizabeth couldn't see a thing. Still she rushed deeper into the hut, grabbed her sword, and flew behind the wolf into the woods.

The adrenaline managed to subside the pain of her tired legs. Her loose blonde hair flew through the wind as she struggled to unravel her sword from the weapon belt. Not only was she out in the forest without the protection of Jon or her wolf, but her sword was tangled up in its own holder too. The thought of something jumping out at her began to weigh heavy on her mind as she struggled to unravel it. Once it was somewhat assembled around her waist she ventured further from the hut, twisting and turning through the forest as she called after Winter with staggered breaths.

"Winter, come back boy!" Ilizabeth shouted.

Having exhausted most of her energy towards getting to the Frostfangs, she could no longer run. Still she moved through the woods cursing herself for running after him in the first place. After all, he was a wolf and he could take care of himself. She stopped dead in her tracks, allowing the tire to take over the rationality of her mind. Her heavy breaths fell over the normal sounds of the woods, the crickets, and the scurries of small furry animals. Just as she thought about heading back and waiting for him to return from whatever caught his attention, a growl came from behind a few trees over.

Ilizabeth could feel her heart pounding through her entire body. She took slow steps toward the noise with her hand on the pommel of the blade and her eyes peeled for any sudden movements. The growling continued. She was sure it was Winter, but remained in fear of whatever he was watching. Ilizabeth took a deep breath in before whipping around the half rotted tree trunk. The schling of her blade was light as she only managed to pull out a few inches before realizing it was another human.

Winter stood growling over the girl who didn't nearly look as petrified as she should have. Her hair was just as wild and fiery as the expression she wore, her eyes, round and dark like buttons. She had a long thin nose that came to a point, and a vertical scar that started from the left side of her bottom lip and came all the way down to her chin.

"Winter, here boy," Ilizabeth called as she let go of her blade and protective stance.

Winter ceased his growling. He lingered over the girl for a moment, gathering a good whiff of the fear she buried before turning to rejoin Ilizabeth. She knelt down to get a good look at the wolf. The white fur around his mouth was painted red, and had a small chunk of fuzzy flesh lodged in it. Her attention wandered back over to the girl who remained on the floor, panting as she probably just had a staring match with the God of Death. Ilizabeth first noted that the girl was unharmed by her wolf, thankfully. Then she noticed the clothing was made only of wool and not in the way highborns crafted it. Her coat looked as if it was taken directly from the back of a sheep and sewn together, just as she'd known the freefolk to do it. Abruptly, the girl scrambled to grab the ax covered in snow beside her, and rose to her feet. She held the ax over her head, now attempting to scare both Ilizabeth and Winter with her tall solid build.

"Get back or I'll ax you both," She threatened. Her voice held a guttural tone, one that was natural and backed by an accent Ilizabeth was vaguely familiar with.

"I doubt that," Ilizabeth snickered lightly. 

"A direwolf's no pet," Her resiliently fearful eyes wandered to Winter.

"He's a good boy, probably just a little hungry,"

"Yeah," She sighed, now dropping her arm, "Tried to take my rabbit. I'd been tracking it since the sun started settin' . . . thought I'd get it before it went dark but . . ."

Ilizabeth looked to the left, now spotting the bloody rabbit pierced into the ground by the arrow shot through what was left of its stomach. Half of its tiny body was missing, which explained the flesh and blood of Winter.

"You shot him?"

"There’s no one else out here," she replied obnoxiously.

"With an ax?" Ilizabth raised a brow while gesturing to the weapon in her hand.

"No, I shot it with-" She paused as she patted her empty backside. "Shit, I lost my bow!"

Ilizabeth watched curiously as the girl fell to her knees. She frantically crawled across the ground and searched through the snow, sweeping it away in piles with her thick mittens before quickly giving up. The girl had probably been running and most likely dropped it along the way. But it was far too dark and too cold to search now. She met eyes with Ilizabeth again, clearly more frustrated than before.

"You owe me," She shouted, now coming to her feet again.

"I'm sorry, I really don't have anything to give you," Ilizabeth apologized.

That was when the girl suddenly stopped. She stared at Ilizabeth motionlessly, then leaned back and continued to look. Her eyes traveled all over, finally taking in the sight of someone who was evidently not from her side of the wall.

"You're from south of the wall!" She said shockingly.

"Yeah, I am,"

"I take it you're from some fancy castle then?"

"Winterfell," Ilizabeth answered.

"I know Winterfell. I was conceived there!"

A light laugh sipped from the princess' mouth. Both her mothers' and her uncle warned her that the freefolk had a very direct and obscure way of navigating their way through conversation. Still, she didn't expect to hear anything like that.

"My mother was from south of the wall. She worked as whore near some fancy lord's castle until she left with my father after surviving the Long Night." She explain further, "I'm Mundy,"

"Ilizabeth," She replied.

Ilizabeth looked back to her side where Winter was no longer sitting. Instead he hungrily slobbered over what was left of the rabbit. Mundy let out another sigh, feeling completely unsuccessful in her hunting exhibition. They stood silent in the night for a moment, listening to the sound of their own breaths mixing with the crickets and cracks of the forest. Jon struck Ilizabeths mind. She knew regardless of whether he found water or not, he was probably back at the hut, in complete disbelief of them both being gone.

While Mundy remained stuck in a not so subtle awe of the girl beside her, Ilizabeth began to look out into the darkness. Her head swiveled in different directions and none of them suggested where she came from.

"Do you happen to be familiar with where we are?" Ilizabeth asked.

"We're in the Giant Stairs, just outside the Fangs," She answered.

That didn't help at all. Ilizabeth began to wear her panic on her face. Even Mundy noticed.

"Just relax, where ya' headin'?"

"Back to the hut with my uncle,"

"And you have no idea where you came from?"

Ilizabeth looked out into the darkness again. This time she imagined there were eyes peeling out from behind every trunk, waiting to take a nice big chomp of her as she wandered aimlessly through the unfamiliar territory.

"I only know of two huts in the area and I'm pretty sure your wolf attacked me from that way" She pointed to the right of them, "I'll take you,"

"Really?" Ilizabeth grinned.

"You owe me a rabbit and a bow, fancy girl" She scoffed, "Now come on,"

Ilizabeth began walking with Mundy on her right and Winter on her left. She led them through the trees until they reached a man made path to walk along. The blue hue of the moon managed to seep through what was left of the leaves of the dying trees and onto the path. It allowed them both to see better. Ilizabeth was too consumed with the thought of worrying her uncle to realize Mundy's eyes had been practically glued to her the entire time and not with the same stare as before. This one suggested she was captivated by something about Ilizabeth, whether it be the way she dressed, or her bright blonde hair, or the way the moonlight complemented her pale hue.

"So what brings you all the way out here?" Mundy inquired.

"That is a rather long and complicated story,"

"Ahhhh" She sighed in understanding, "I get it. It's a secret,"

"It's not a secret it's just" Ilizabeth paused, "I just don't know if I should be sharing sensitive information with strangers,"

"And who decides that for you?" Mundy asked snarkily.

"Probably my uncle," Ilizabeth shrugged, completely missing her jest.

Mundy let out a short laugh. Ilizabeth shot her head in Mundy's direction. Her face was slightly hot and twisted up. "What's so humorous about that?"

" What's so humorous about that?" Mundy repeated mockingly, "Do you always talk like that?"

"Talk like what?"

"Like you think about every single word before you even say it,"

Ilizabeth didn't know how to respond to that. Of course she did. Why would anyone speak without thinking? Ilizabeth wasn't daft, she knew the girl was poking fun at her, but this form of mockery was something she wasn't used to.

"Yes, do you not?" Ilizabeth asked.

"No, thinking hurts my head. I just go!" She responded excitedly.

Ilizabeth could practically see the uncontainable energy within her, as if it radiated from her skin. Just in the same way she could see her breath everytime she exhaled out into the cold. For someone who'd been living in an area with dying animals, rotting soil, and dried out streams for at least fifteen years, she seemed to be full of life.

"Are all the women here as tall as you?" Ilizabeth couldn't help herself. The only other woman she'd seen with that kind of height was her mother, and those related to her.

"Nah it's just me,"

"My mother is quite tall as well," Ilizabeth added. 

"What happened to you ?" She raised a brow, "How come you're so little,"

"I am not little," Ilizabeth argued, "I'm the same height as any average lady,"

"Must all be little then," She shrugged.

Ilizabeth couldn't help but giggle at how freely the girl spoke. They were from two completely different sides of the walls, and they both found each other's presence to be surprisingly refreshing. Another question stirred in Ilizabeths mind, one pertaining to the details of her fathers upbringing. Just as she opened her mouth to ask it, she heard a familiar grumbled voice call her name.

"That must be my uncle!" Ilizabeth exclaimed.

The three picked up the pace, following down the windy path until they spotted the man with a torch. From a distance she was unsure of whether or not it was him. He called her name again, making it celery evident that he was who she thought. Winter charged in front of them happily. He stopped in front of Jon who knelt down and used his free head to stroke the wolf's back. Mundy still followed, only now she took slow steps lingering further and further behind Ilizabeth as she approached Jon.

"I told you to stay put," He put a hand on her shoulder, "What happened?"

"I'm sorry. I let Winter out to pee and then he went running so I chased after him," Ilizabeth tried to explain but Jon cut her off.

"Mundy?"

"Jon?"

Ilizabeth paused to look at the pair staring at one another.

"You're back already," Mundy smiled in relief. "Well, did you find it . . . did you find the key?"

"You're looking at her," he gestured to Ilizabeth.

Her eyes fell upon Ilizabeth, then the smile dropped from her face. She looked back and forth between the two, wondering if they were playing a trick on her. Once she realized no one was cracking but instead started to feel somewhat awkward in the silence, she knew they were serious.

"How is some prissy southern beauty going to help us?" She asked, clearly bewildered by the thought.

Ilizabeth wanted to speak against being both prissy and a southerner, but the bit about being a beauty kept her biting her tongue.

"She is who the woman is black spoke of. Both beautiful and wise. She is the key to the Lands,"

"May I ask how you two know each other?" Ilizabeth questioned a few steps behind the conversation.

"This is my good friend Tormund's daughter, Mundy Giantsbane," Jon said, "Mundy, this is Ilizabeth Stark, my niece,"

Neither of them spoke as they were already in the midst of getting acquainted with one another. Being that the temperature was only going to get lower through the night, they decided to move their conversation inside of the hut. One by one they passed by Jon until everyone was inside. As the warmth from the fire began to settle over Ilizabeth her gaze fell upon the cot. It was calling her name again. Only this time it was much louder and much more persistent. 

Chapter Text

Most of the windows in the Great Keep were propped open wide today. The sun beamed down bright over Winterfell, making it significantly warmer than it had been over the past few months. Day by day the heeps of pretty white snow vanished into the dirt and turned it to mush. The seasons were changing and a subtle breeze of the dawning spring air would satisfy those roaming the halls and castle grounds. It was still early and at least half of the castle was still sound asleep, except for those who occupied castle working jobs, most of their work was meant to get started before the Queens rose.

Although Brienne slept as if she was in a bear in hibernation, flat on her back with one arm over her head, the other on her stomach, and her legs sprawled apart, Sansa opened her eyes for the first time today. She wished she could remain in a deep slumber. It would prevent her from having to deal with today's reality. Something she'd been desperately trying to escape for some time now. But she wasn't a deep sleeper like her wife, and the three knocks outside their door snapped her directly out of her wonderfully imaginative dream. Sansa didn't move. She remained on her side, knees tucked together, with her back to the door as it opened and closed. A brief moment of silence went by, then she spoke.

"Good morning, Lena,"

"Good morning, Your Grace" Lena finally spoke up. "I do believe it is time to rise for the day. Shall I draw your curtains, and bring you something to eat?"

"Yes, that is fine. Thank you, Lena," Sansa said.

The worn out soles of Lena's boots cluttered lightly against the stone as she moved deeper into the room. She opened the wooden boards that covered the window and pinned the thin ocean blue curtains against them. At this point Sansa could see her, she wore her hair pinned back with a floral clip, a thin wool gown that was still probably just a bit too thick for the changing weather, and the same boots Sansa had seen her in for years. They were originally black, but the constant wear gave them a more dusky complexion, and a few patchy holes formed on the outskirts of her right shoe.

"Lena, you need new boots," Sansa said plainly.

She looked down at her feet before turning to face the Queen finally. Sansa could see the insecurity in her eyes, the shame that was brewing inside of the woman. Despite having just woken up, the Queen was as always, a great beauty, and her comment didn't make the woman feel any better about herself or her family's financial position.

"I know, Your Grace. I shall get a new pair very soon,"

"After you're done serving breakfast send Maedalyn or another maiden in to finish up," Sansa spoke softly as she removed herself from the bed. She walked on the balls of her bare feet until arriving at the dresser where she kept extra coins hidden in the last drawer. Sansa opened the drawer, then the sac, and handed the woman six shiny coins. "Go and see Donal, he will make you a new pair,"

"I couldn't take this, Your Grace," She hesitated.

"Your Queen insists," Sansa said while holding her hand out.

The coins chimed as they plopped down into the overworked hands of Lena. She curtsied while thanking the Queen fruitfully. Then presumably scurried off to the kitchen. Sansa now stood stretching and yawning at the foot of her bed in a shale pink nightgown that stopped at her shins. She hadn't noticed that Storm naturally woke up whenever she did, not until the wolf was practically standing between her legs begging for attention.

"Good morning, Storm," Sansa smiled lightly while rubbing her soft head.

She knelt down now, meeting the wolf at eye level. Her beautiful light grey coat was fluffed, as it was brushed by the Queen daily and her pearl blue eyes looked directly upon Sansa. She wasn't quite as big or scary looking as Sapphire. Although she was large, the hue of her coat and eyes gave her a majestically elegant look rather than a viscous one. She was more than suitable for a Queen as beautiful as Sansa. She resembled the same ferocity and beauty as a winter snow storm, so that's exactly what Sansa decided to name her.

Lena returned with her legs moving swiftly and her arms suspended slightly as she carried a large copper tray. Sansa and Storm moved to the side, both eyeing the tray as she placed it down on the small wooden table in front of the window. She caught a slight whiff of what was underneath the cover, the sweet tang of the lightly toasted pumpernickel, the dried salt on the freshly grilled fish. It made her mouth water, and her stomach growl just as loud as the wolves did.

She sat alone at the table for now. Brienne returned to their chambers later than she usually did the previous night and Sansa figured she would want to sleep first, and eat whatever she saved for her. She was busy discussing the war to come with Lyanna. In just a few short weeks, it had become the most newsworthy discussion since the prince was injured. Anything pertaining to their allies, their enemies, and those who fell in between was on the tip of everyone's tongue. The topic weighed heavy on the minds of the Queens and the small council, and today would be no different.

Lena lifted the cloche letting the steam and the deliciously mixed scents into the air. Next to the large pot of peppermint tea was a few pieces of pumpernickel, and its sides; honey, butter and blackberry preserves. Several rashers of bacon, two soft-boiled eggs, grilled fish, and a thick wedge of cheese. Then she lifted the second cloche, revealing the large piece of raw mutton for Storm.

"Thank you, Lena,"

She curtsied and disappeared from the room again. Just as she was leaving the room, a draft came in from the window and slammed the door shut in one loud boom. Brienne's head shot up from the pillow abruptly. Sansa chuckled lightly as she watched her lift herself from the bed in slight confusion. She brushed her long light blonde hair from her face while rising to her feet. Brienne let out an extended groan while she stretched. After sleepily rubbing her eyes for a minute, she shuffled over to the table in her flowy black nightgown and planted a long kiss against Sansa's hair.

"Good morning, my love," She said groggily.

"Good morning," Sansa replied.

"Hello to you, Storm," Brienne turned her attention to the hungry wolf. She grabbed the mutton from the plate and tossed it on the floor. After sniffing it out, she quickly sunk her teeth into the red fleshy meat.

Sansa gathered a bit of everything onto her small personal plate then poured tea for both her and Brienne. She bit into the buttered bread first thoroughly enjoying the slight crisp on top. She loved breakfast, almost as much as she loved desserts. They were both the only meals that were almost always promised to have something sweet on the menu, and Sansa had been developing her sweet tooth ever since she was a small girl. The pair sat in a comfortable silence as they chowed down on their feast but their minds remained occupied by the same thing.

"I have something to ask of you," Brienne stated before blowing into her hot tea.

"What is it,"

"Will you cut my hair short like before?" She questioned.

"I thought you liked it long," Sansa said, now picking up her cup.

"I do," Brienne hesitated to continue, "It's just . . . it's probably best. That way I won't have to worry about it during battle,"

Sansa took a long pause. She could tell by the way Brienne's eyes shifted between her and the cheese that she didn't want to say that. That in some way Sansa would take it personal and feel guilt. A part of her did, but some of her couldn't help but feel like this was inevitable. She'd processed Bran's illusive words about brewing wars and great losses before setting fire to House Cerwyn. Maybe they were already in the midst of planning their rebellion. Or maybe he simply predicted her losing all rationality during those crucial moments. She had spent a decent amount of time wondering about the details of the three eyed raven's prophecies but without him here she wouldn't ever get a sure answer. So instead she focused her attention on trying to find a way out of the war, even if that meant going through some of it.

"Of course," She smiled.

After growing satisfied with their meals, two of the handmaidens, Maedalyn and Alaya, came to clean up after them. The women removed the semi-empty dishes, provided the Queens with fresh linen and a fresh chamber pot, then stuck around to help them dress. Sansa decided to dress in a new gown, one that was mauve grey and heavily embroidered with the ancient scarlett weirwood leaves. The pattern has always been a favorite of the families. One that symbolizes prosperity, and good fortune. Brienne, who often showed little interest in what she wore, allowed for Sansa and the handmaidens to pick her attire for the day. On top of the black pants she wore a hickory leather doublet that stopped just below the knees, with beige sleeves, and cuffs that matched the leather.

"Fetch a pair of scissors, a pail of water, and a comb on your way back," Sansa asked as the women left the room for the tenth time.

Maedalyn returned to place the black clover printed cushion with the scissors and fine toothed comb on top of the table where they dined. Then she and Alaya entered again, leaving the two polished crowns on top of the freshly made up bed and the pail beside it before withdrawing from the Queens' presence for the rest of the morning. While Sansa moved to grab a towel, she requested that the Lord Commander dampen her hair in the pail, to which she did. After relocating one of the chairs to the more open area of the room she sat anxiously thinking about how she would look with short hair her age. Seeing as to how her own name day was approaching, there was a vast difference in the way one's skin sat at twenty eight, versus nearly forty-four.

Sansa assembled behind the chair and threw the towel over Briennes shoulder before beginning to comb through the length. She admired how her wifes locks were softer than silk. How radiant the hue turned in the summer compared to winter. How it seemed to bring confidence to the woman she'd always felt possessed a rather alluring appearance.

"Are you sure about this?" Sansa hesitated, "I can style it so it won't get in your way,"

"I'm sure,"

"You know I feel you are stunning either way," Sansa continued.

"Thank you, my love," Brienne smiled warmly before reassuring her, "I'm sure,"

Sansa ran the comb through the thin hairs again. She gathered every last strand behind Brienne's shoulders, then lined the scissors above her shoulders. The snips were kept at a slow pace while she held her breath in concentration until she cut all the way across. Once she had it to the length she intended the front to be, she began cutting the back shorter and shorter. With every lock of blonde that drifted to the ground, her hair began to bear the same resemblance it had many years ago.

"I'll be glad to not have to sit through another one of your styling trials," Brienne said with a genuine smile.

"I thought you adored being my practice model," Sansa replied sarcastically.

"There's nothing I love more than having my wife comb through knots and braid tightly against my scalp," She rolled her eyes.

"You and your son are overly dramatic, it isn't that bad," Sansa replied while running her fingers through her hair. She split it down the middle and began cutting diagonally.

"It can get quite terrible at times," She said honestly.

Sansa smiled while repositioning herself in front of the blonde. She stepped in between her legs and moved in close to cut the front. Brienne's eyes fell upon her wifes delicate face before traveling down past her exposed neck, breast, and ended at her corset. It was pulled in tight, perfectly enhancing the waist and curve she developed post pregnancy.

"You look marvelous in this dress," She looked up.

Not wanting to accidentally nick her wife in the eye, Sansa pulled the scissors back. She met Brienne's eyes as they stared back up at her full of genuine adoration.

"And you," She paused to kiss Brienne passionately, "Are rather good looking yourself."

"I am finished," Sansa leaned back, positioning individual strands precisely.

"Thank you, dear," Brienne stood to kiss her wifes cheek.

Instead of heading towards the vanity to look at the new cut, Brienne moved towards her side of the bed, where the crowns sat patiently waiting to be worn.

"You don't want to see it?" Sansa frowned, pointing to the vanity.

"I trust it looks nice," She shrugged while picking up Sansa's crown.

"You're very strange," Sansa replied half-jokingly.

Brienne laughed at the comment. Sansa was always concerned with her appearance, even when they were preparing for yet another small council meeting set upon discussion preparations for the war. Yet she was strange. Sansa joined Brienne at the side of the bed, ducking down slightly as Brienne placed the crown at the center of her head. Then she looked down upon hers. She froze as if there was an immensely large beast standing before her. Instead it was the fate of the North welded into each nook and cranny of its fine detailing.

It was the first time she'd seen the new crown Sansa had forged for her. Although Brienne didn't mind it either way, Sansa wanted her wife to be able to exist as her own Queen. If they were truly going to rule together, they needed to reinstate Brienne as an individual. And the best way to introduce everyone to their new way of reigning, was to ditch the replica.

All Brienne requested of the new crown was that it didn't have the same thin dainty band as her wifes. As much as she loved the way it looked on Sansa, it was made for someone of a more effeminate nature, and that wasn't Brienne. Instead the crown was composed of a thicker band. Along that band was at least twelve swords sticking out the top, it was a duller shade of silver than Sansa's and had a snarling wolf embeded in the front center of the band, with the Tarth sigil's sun and moon on the left and right side of it.

"You don't have to wear it if you truly hate it that much," Sansa laughed lightly. She couldn't understand why wearing the crown meant so much to her, but she didn't want her wife stressing over something as simple as an accessory.

"I don't hate it. It's perfect, I love it." Brienne gave her a sincere look, "It just always feels so heavy, and not physically but . . .  I'm not making much sense am I?"

"The lives of over a hundred thousand northerners is quite a heavy responsibility to wear," She said, "You're making perfect sense, my love. But you've been doing that for the last fifteen years now. This is only a crown,"

Brienne looked upon Sansa's supportive expression before grabbing the crown and placing it on her head. She moved it forward slightly, still unfamiliar with the exact place it was meant to rest. The cool iron felt different on her scalp, but she figured she'd add it to her list of things to get used to.

"It suits you," Sansa smiled.

Sansa called for Storm to follow before proceeding to step out of the comfortably bliss of their chamber. Ser Bael's posture abruptly perked up in their presence. He blinked several times before stammering over his 'good mornings' and bowed. Instead of reprimanding him, they greeted the man and started walking. He accompanied the Queens as they greeted everyone they passed on their way down to Rickons room. The halls were back lit by the sun and the torches, casting a warm light over their pale end of winter complexion. Ser Bael's armor clanked as he heavily stomped down each step behind them. Just as they took their final step around the spiral stairwell, they quickly halted as they were inches from colliding into Maester Horden.

"Apologies, my Queens'. I did not hear you coming," He bowed.

"Good morning, Grand Maester," Sansa smiled.

"Good morning," He said, now getting a good look at the pair as he took a few steps back. His eyes drifted up to Brienne's head.

"You've changed your hair!" He struggled to point over his shoulder. "The short hair suits you, Your Grace,"

"Your compliments are very much appreciated, Grand Maester," Brienne said awkwardly. She could feel her face getting hot with embarrassment. "Have you seen the Prince this morning?"

"Yes, yes. I tended to him before he ran off to join Ser Malson for the morning. He should be in the courtyard somewhere," He said in short breaths.

"And how is his leg?" Sansa inquired further.

"Getting better by the day. He walks well without the cane but we don't want to over work it,"

"Very well," Sansa replied, "Where are you heading off to, there's a small council meeting being held in the library tower soon,"

"I shall be there very soon, Your Grace," He shouted as he passed by them.

Brienne and Sansa exchanged a wondrous look. Old age had started to get the best of the Grand Maester. Occasionally he would do or say strange things that raised the brows of the audience his bizarre outbursts would attract. So they decided to ignore his evasiveness and continue making their way towards the tower. As soon as they stepped out from beneath the dark aroma of the castle and into the light with their people and the fresh open air, they immediately began to feel more at ease. There were several knights coursing through the grounds with young boys struggling to trail behind them. A few of the boys were knighted not too long along and Rickon nearly threw a tantrum resembling the ones he did as a babe. They did their best to empathize with their son, they all desperately wanted him to return to full health soon.

The Queens reached the courtyard with their arms locked together per usual. All eyes fell upon the couple, more specifically Brienne as she subconsciously made a statement with her new appearance. Somehow the lack of armor enhanced her powerful look and when it was paired with the freshly forged crown and the same hairstyle she wore in her most ferocious swordsman days, the people couldn't help but feel empowered. They spotted Rickon from across the grounds. He sat on top of one of the crates, trembling as he held the pail full of rocks with his arms extended.

"What are they doing?" Sansa asked in an amusingly curious tone.

"The boy said something about his arms being little, I'm unsure," Brienne answered in the same tone.

They continued through the castle grounds, finally reaching the spiral stairwell of the library tower. Ser Galvin greeted the women with a warm smile as they reached the top of the stairs. Being that neither of them called for him, they assumed Lyanna asked him to man the door while they awaited the small council members' arrival. Both men held the large doors open as the Queens passed through, then resumed their guard duties outside.

The tower wasn't built with many windows, on either floor. Seeing as to how this was a place meant for reading, the lack of light was a huge construction flaw on Queen Sansas ancestors. The building was large and relied on a surplus of candles for lighting. Two candle chandeliers, torch posts spread nearly five feet apart on most walls, there were even candles placed on the table before the fireplace where they would have their meeting.

All members of the small council were present, except the Grand Maester who would hopefully be making an appearance soon. Their light chatter settled as soon as they made eye contact with the Queens. They all sprung up, quickly rising to their feet as if there was a thousand legged critter crawling up their arms. They echoed their good mornings, and waited for the Queens to sit.

"Grand Maester Horden will be with us shortly," Sansa informed them.

"This new look is very becoming of you, Your Grace," Yara complimented Brienne with her notoriously smug grin plastered to her face.

"Thank you, Lady Greyjoy," She responded, practically biting her tongue.

The natural sunlight in the room briefly grew, then quickly reverted back to the drabby darkness as the doors opened and closed. The sound of the old rings around the Grand Maesters neck always revealed his presence before he even showed his face. He quickly entered the room, now holding some wooden figures close to his body as he found his seat.

"Shall we begin?" Lyanna spoke while standing.

After both Brienne and Sansa nodded simultaneously, she began moving pieces across the map rolled out across the table. It was a large hand drawn and painted map of the North. All the way from the wall, to the brink of Ironman's Bay. As Lyanna began placing the small black wooden markings onto the map, the Grand Maester put the rest of the figures he brought down too. They were typically carvings of house sigils, or something to represent who was who and where they were positioned. For now, they remained as marks to symbolize the key houses.

Sansa looked at the map with vacancy in her the depths of her iris. It was the first time they had to roll out the map. To truly begin to discuss alliances, betrayals and plans to attack her very own people. The thought of it sat on top of her like a boulder. Instead of instantly killing her, after a few minutes would pass by, it'd grow heavier and crush another bone in her body. The thought was conflictingly agonizing and being in this room only made it worse. Lyanna finished placing the squares in a diagonal line across the map before speaking.

"The North is geographically split in half. Most of the small houses in The Rills, the Stony Shore, Cape Kraken, and the Neck have all sided with Rickard Cerwyn" She pointed to each place as she said their names, "With the exception of House's Dustin and Reed,"

"What of those on the line?" Sansa asked, "White Harbor, Deepwood Motte?"

"To my surprise, Lord Glover shall honor his pledge to House Stark. So he says," Lyanna remarked, "As for Lord Manderly. . . he does not wish to declare a side, nor does Lady Karstark,"

"I spoke ill of the Queen and the children . . . and so have others in this very room." The moment she heard who stood against her she was brought back to the late Lord Cerwyns words. Both Wyman and Alys sat in the room when he uttered those words and she hadn't bothered to give either of them a second look. Although it didn't necessarily mean they spoke against her family, the thought plagued her mind.

"How can the Karstarks not want to fight with their own kinfolk?" Grand Maester Horden asked.

"I imagine Lady Karstark is feeling somewhat torn given the nature of the circumstances," Lyanna said in the most respectful tone her voice would allow.

Everyone in the room was smart enough to figure out the undertones of her comment. The Hand did not want to step on the toes of the Queen, but it was important to acknowledge her brother's relationship with the late Lord Karstark. After Robb beheaded Lord Karstark, he lost the aid of one of the largest forces in the North, and now that Sansa had done the same thing to another, Lady Karstarks desire to sit aside did not come as a surprise.

"And if it truly does come to fighting, do you think we can win without either?" Ser Ronald spoke up.

"We have the bigger houses on our side of the line. But their small ones add up." She hesitated, "If we secured the twelve thousand soldiers at White Harbor and the ten thousand from Karhold we would be able to create a force large enough to hopefully convince the Cerwyns to submit without shedding any blood,"

The faces of those across the enemy line came to the forefronts of Sansa's mind. She expected to feel angry when she finally heard the news of who joined the revolution against her. But instead she felt unsettled. Unaware of how to react or process the points of the discussion. Only Brienne's voice was able to bring her back to the reality within the room.

"Rickard Cerwyn is an arrogant fanatic, he will not retreat," Brienne added.

"Those men have never been called upon in their lives, he will have no choice but to retreat once his army flees," Ser Eddam added.

The small council wished for the war to remain peaceful. Sansa practically scoffed out loud when they used the words 'war' and 'peace' in the same sentence. But what they really meant was that they wouldn't initiate any battles. That they would play it smart, build a large army, rally them at Winterfell, and scare the small men fighting for the Cerwyns into retreating. That there would be little to no bloodshed and this war would die peacefully.

In truth, Sansa had doubts about the plan. She figured most men didn't go to war over a cause they weren't willing to die for and it didn't take much to convince men who had very little to strive for something big. But she also knew the quickest way into getting men to surrender is to unveil that the outcome of the war was set in stone, and their side would be the slaughter. And the best way to do that, was to build an army nearly as terrifying as the army of the dead.

"Is there any news on the current whereabouts of the Cerwyns?" Yara inquired.

"I've received word that he is gathering his army at Torrhen's Square," Lyanna answered.

"So how do you propose we convince Lady Karstark and Lord Manderly to join our side?" Maester Horden's old voice croaked.

"I will go to White Harbor on behalf of the Queens." Yara stood confidently.

Yara had a tendency to attend these meetings hungover after spending most of the evening with the prettiest whores in Winterfell. She'd reek of sex, booze, and money, and be dressed in the same clothes from the previous day. To now see her volunteering was beyond a shock, it zapped them into something more lively.

"The Greyjoys are best at sea. I'll gather a few men and sail from Widow's Watch," She added.

The eyes of the small council traveled amongst each other in silence. No one said a word in protest of Yara's idea, and Lyanna's nod of approval was practically a sealed scroll.

"As for Karhold, we should send the Prince. It wouldn't be wise to send the Queens, yet we still want to show the Karstarks that we respect and honor the bond we've had for centuries," Lyanna said.

"He's still injured," Sansa protested.

"The boy is doing well. A short trip sitting comfortably in the back of a carriage will not agitate the little lord." Grand Maester Horden added, then his eyes suddenly widened, "Of course, the decision is yours, Your Grace,"

Sansa felt like she was being forced to take yet another serious blow to the stomach. She was beyond exhausted with dealing with the worry that came along with sending her children beyond her reach. It never settled. No matter how many teas she drank, walks she took, or prayers she uttered. The feeling sat in the back of her chest like a cough that lingered around for months. This was of course different. She knew the boy would be safe as one of their strongest allies, the Dreadfort, was along the way. There were no prophecies about being a key in winning the war, only a valuable suggestion from the Hand.

"Very well," Sansa nodded.

Chapter Text

The group managed to arrive in the Frostfangs two days after meeting Mundy. Being that the girl lived right next door to Jon for all her life, she remained in their company during her journey back home. Although Jon, Mundy, and Winter walked ahead of Ilizabeth for the last three days, she kept up with them. They trudged through the snow on the small mountain and stopped at the start of the path that ran through their entire camp for a over a hunred kilometers. As far as they knew, there were no freefolk occupying anything east of them. None that still had blood coursing through their beating hearts anyways. Whoever was still alive, and desperately wished to continue doing so was here, awaiting Jon's return in their half huts.

As they began to ascend down the moderately steep hill, Ilizabeth began to feel overwhelmed. Her naturally mature nature managed to keep her distracted from the pressure that came with being responsible for the lives of others. It was even easier to set aside when you didn't know them. But now she was set to meet them. She would anxiously walk behind her uncle as he prepared to present her as the solution to their depleting fate. She'd struggle to resist the urge to look upon each and every one of their starving faces without the slightest clue on how she was meant to do anything about it.

The narrow path forced them to walk in a line. Jon was at the front with Mundy behind him, and Winter behind her. Ilizabeth remained in the back as she fought through the cold. The Frostfangs almost looked exactly as she imagined. A sea of huts, furs, firepits, and other contraptions made to create the things they used in their day to day life. All sprinkled across a relatively flat piece of land. The only thing she didn't imagine was how much it managed to snow in these parts of the country.

Today was the first day they'd been able to travel without having to shield their eyes from the harsh winds since they left the hut in the Giant Stairs. They'd gone the entire morning, and afternoon without spotting a single falling flake. The post stormy evening caused a cluster of fog to drift over the village. The sun remained tucked behind the rows of strung out clouds allowing for the darkening blue hue of the sky to bounce off of the white snow and cast a gloomy light over the area.

They must've passed fifty huts before finally stopping in front of a cluster of larger ones. The average enclosure was small, and shaped like a lemon if you cut it in half both ways then stuck it in the ground. Barkless sticks were used to hold the fabric together and thick scratchy wool was used as a curtain to keep their homes closed in for the night. But the large huts were much taller, and had torches posted outside the entryway.

"This way," Jon gestured to one of the homes.

"I'm goin' home," She said to Jon, then faced Ilizabeth as she returned the chest she carried for the girl, "Come and find me later, I'll show you around,"

Ilizabeth wondered if there was something suggestive underneath the girl's tone. Over the last year she'd grown more used to hearing compliments. In the eyes of everyone except her mothers, she blossomed into a woman when she got her first period three years back. But if her monthly visitor didn't make her a woman, having ten and six years definitely would. Plenty of the little lords and future knights subtly yet still outwardly suggested wanting to be with the princess. In many different ways. She imagined there would be a line full of men that ran all the way through Winter town, waiting for her when she returned home.

But everything about Mundy's existence made it harder to tell. For starters, she was a girl. And Ilizabeth had never been hit on by another girl before, at least she didn't think so. Mundy wasn't just an average girl either, she was a freewoman, who always seemed to have the right words to get undeath Ilizabeths skin. In the short amount of time they'd spent together, Mundy managed to pluck at every last nerve in her body. And the grin she wore after every jest only made things worse.

Still, Ilizabeth closely observed the girls' looks and comments. Of course, sometimes they made her uncomfortable, but to her surprise, it wasn't in a bad way. She and Mundy would go back and forth about whatever stupid subject the free girl was stuck on, until Mundy said something that was subtly suggestive. Or something completely and utterly barbaric. Ilizabeth's face would turn red as she struggled to think of a response and a gloating grin would grow across Mundy's lips.

It was a pleasant sort of uncomfortable. One that she found herself naturally slipping back into day after day. She liked the feeling. Maybe as much as she was beginning to like the girl behind it.

Ilizabeth responded with a nod and a small smile before taking back her chest and facing forward again. They followed the division in the path, passing a sea of fur covered freefolk, until they arrived in front of the smallest of the larger huts. Jon held the snow covered curtain back, gesturing for Ilizabeth and Winter to enter the enclosure before him. She walked into the semi-dark room, immediately having to dodge one of the many wooden posts that held the home up sturdily.

"There are a bunch of these in here, so keep your head up," He instructed her. "I'll get a fire going so you can see better,"

As Jon effortlessly moved around his home to collect the materials for the fire, Ilizabeth couldn't help but take a slight interest in the architecture of the home, especially the windows. The bulk of the hut was made from thick cloth, and used logs for the frame. Yet they found a way to thin the material enough to let the light in while simultaneously keeping the cold out. Without having the chemicals used by castle works that the Maesters of the Citadel had been studying for centuries.

The entire encampment impressed Ilizabeth, and as the light from the flaming fire pit behind Jon grew brighter she only saw more that piqued her interests. She put her chest down right beside her feet, and grinned politely at Jon.

"Welcome to the Frostfangs," Jon said, "Not as fancy as the castle back home 'eh?"

"It's quite impressive. In its own way," Ilizabeth replied genuinely.

"Well, thank you, Ily," He smiled.

Jon sighed as he began to pull the strap of his bag over his head. He tossed it behind him, causing it to crash and slide against the ground until it hit the frame of what appeared to be a bed. Although it was so low that it was practically on the ground, it had a wooden frame, and a furry padded cushion of some sort. As he moved closer to the girl to grab her chest, a voice called to him from behind the curtain.

"Jon, you in there?" A woman's voice called.

He looked in the direction of the curtain, then his legs hustled over. He pulled one side back, revealing the subtly darkening sky, the rapid pick up of the evening winds, and a woman holding a large silver pail. She looked to be no older than forty, and wore the same tawny brown outfits as everyone. Thick, oversized, and coated in white specs.

"I figured you and the girl might be thirsty," She smiled warmly and placed it on the circular wooden table to her left.

"Thank you Shyra," He said graciously, "This is Ilizabeth Stark, my niece, and that's Winter," Jon introduced them. "Ily, this is Shyra, Mundy's mother,"

Shyra and her daughter held little resemblance to each other. Shyra's hair fell straight and was as dark as a raven. She had gentle features; small lips, a slightly upturned nose, and big grey moon eyes that crinkled whenever she smiled. She was very petite, her frame almost child-like. She was maybe even an inch or two shorter than Ilizabeth. Mundy was her polar opposite. Her hair, medium copper and wildly curled. Her lips were wide and thin, her nose hooked. Not to mention, Mundy's limbs were long, long and stocky. The only thing they had in common were their eyes, although Mundy's were smaller, they were still round and deeply sunken into her skull.

"It's lovely to meet you, Lady Shyra," Ilizabeth's cheeks rose as she gave the woman a warm smile.

"I'm not a lady," She laughed lightly, "The people around here either use their given name or something stupid that someone else decided to call them,"

"Right," Ilizabeth nodded and corrected herself, "Shyra. Thank you for the water,"

"Of course," She replied.

The freefolk homesteads weren't really made to store things. Everything Jon owned looked to be sitting out in plain sight where it was easily accessible. A few clustered tarps hung from the wooden beams, oddly shaped bones were scattered on the floor by the pit, and there were lines of empty string everywhere. Ilizabeths eyes scanned the room in search of a few cups and a bowl for Winter, but she had no luck.

"Where are your cups, uncle?" She asked.

"In that sheet over there," He pointed to the east wall.

While Ilizabeth rattled through the wooden dishware, Jon and Shyra struck up a conversation. She learned that Mundy had three brothers and three sisters who Shyra described to be 'wilder than untamed horses'. Although the amount of siblings she had came as a shock to Ilizabeth, their nature, not so much. She also learned that the stream closest to them had completely dried up, and they'd been forced to send people to a different outlet of the Milkwater River. One that was a four day journey, two there and two back. Ilizabeth listened solemnly as she dipped the cups into the pail. She handed one to Jon and one to Shyra before placing Winter's bowl on the ground. His tongue slapped against the water, lapping half the bowl up in seconds.

Finally she pressed the cup to her own lips. Ilizabeth enjoyed every last drop as she chugged the water. She sighed as she felt it coat the dryness in her throat before coursing through her insides.

"I should get back, I've got some mutton stew on the fire," She said before turning to Ilizabeth, "You're uncle is a terrible cook by the way. You're welcome to some if you'd like,"

"Thank you for the offer, I shall accompany you," Ilizabeth chuckled.

Shyra finished the last few swigs of water before placing it down on the table. She pulled Jon into a quick hug before assembling by the curtain again. She pulled it back, then looked out to the sky, "Should be done once the suns down,"

Once the woman was gone, Ilizabeth, Jon, and Winter took the time to further settle in. Jon dragged his feet deeper towards the back of the hut before ducking underneath one of the horizontal beams. He took off his overcoat, slung it over the beam, and plopped down on the bed in a low grunted sigh. He shuffled around, turning from side to side before settling comfortably on his back with his eyes shut.

Ilizabeth wanted to rest too. But the aching growls that came from her stomach kept her awake. Instead of lying down beside her uncle in the only bed in his hut, she instead looked for something to keep her occupied until supper was ready. She dragged her chest a bit closer to the fireplace where Winter now rested too, and flipped the top open. His head shot up as it thudded loudly against the ground, then it returned back over his paws. She shuffled through her clothes, accidentally unfolding her leather undergarments before stumbling across a few of the gifts she received on her last name day.

Nera's ring and Gabrin's pin. She traced her finger over the ring, the lightly etched marks in the band took her back to one of her favorite memories with Nera and her brother. Back when they were all ten and two. Ilizabeth had skipped out on her embroidery lesson with Septa Hellicent and convinced Rickon to miss bow and arrow training with Ser Eddam so they could meet Nera behind her home. They sat out in her yard and spied on her neighbors all afternoon. Occasionally they would catch wind of some pretty interesting things, like petty theft, and infidelity. But for most of the day, they only heard petty gossip.

The day they snuck into the brothel in Wintertown was a memorable one as well. Especially because it was the day she met Gabrin. Ilizabeth picked up the pin, now rubbing her thumb over it too. She missed the way his thick eyebrows would wiggle whenever he spoke to her. They reminded her of fuzzy caterpillars, which she never failed to verbally express. And he never failed to express his hatred for it.

She hadn't worn either item since she left Winterfell. Although a part of her felt silly, she was too afraid of losing them. Both people meant so much to her and she'd never forgive herself if she did, so she kept them tucked away. At the bottom of her chest was her favorite book, 'The Life and Adventure of Elyo Grivas, First Sword of Bravos'. Adventure stories always intrigued Ilizabeth, and ones with sword fighting and pirates were her absolute favorite. She'd read it at least fifteen times, and was willing to start all over again right now.

Ilizabeth pulled it out from the chest and settled on the log near the fire. As soon as she opened the first page she was reminded of the book inside Jon's bag. Of course she'd read Targaryen history books before, but she'd never seen that specific one. Its condition was superb, as if it had been forged recently.

"Uncle Jon, can I read that book in your pack?" She asked innocently.

He didn't answer immediately, instead he sat up, "How'd you know I had a book in my pack?"

Ilizabeth paused. She'd completely forgotten that she technically went through his pack when she stumbled across the book. His overcoat blocked her view of his current expression. Although his tone didn't sound too bothered, she was still worried he would think poorly of her manners.

"I found it when I was searching for the last of the bread," She replied, "I'm sorry,"

"It's alright, Ily. There's no need to be sorry"

The bed creaked as he lifted himself off of it. She could only see his feet until he pushed the coat back and ducked underneath it. Her eyes remained on him as he sat down next to her. He didn't look angry, but he did look as if something was troubling his mind.

"I get the feeling I can't read the book," She joked.

Jon looked at Ilizabeth lovingly with a warm growing grin. He even chuckled at her silly jest. Still in silence, he faced forward and began fiddling with his fingers as he watched the flames whip. The faint whistling wind could still be heard inside the tent, along with the spontaneous crackles of the burning wood and the light chatter that stirred outside. Ilizabeth knew there was something secretive about the book from the moment she laid eyes on it. And when Jon asked about her knowledge of its existence, she was sold. Instead of prying, she waited for him to explain, or for him to change the subject. Either way, she was fine, she was more concerned about respecting her uncle's privacy than anything else.

"I have something to tell you, Ilizabeth," He paused, "But you can never tell a soul. I mean it,"

"Not even mother?" She asked.

"Your mother already knows. She's the one one who gave me the book,"

Truthfully, the girl was used to secrets by now. There were always things her mothers left out for what they claimed to be for her and her brother's sake. But in the year she'd spent with her uncle, she'd grown to know him as an honest man. Not that her mothers weren't, but because their relationship was different, there was never a need to hide things, unless her mother specifically asked him to.

"Swear it, Ilizabeth," His tone grew stern. She'd also known Jon to be a serious man, but never with her.

"I swear I won't tell anyone," She answered.

Jon's sustained silence made Ilizabeths heart race. She could even feel beads of sweat begin to form across her hairline. Normally her mind would be racing too, but she genuinely had no idea what to expect from Jon next.

"My father wasn't your grandfather Eddard Stark. My father was Rhaegar Targaryen. His marriage to Ellia Martell was annulled, and he wed my mother, Lyanna Stark, in secret." He spoke. "After she gave birth, she gave me to Ned, who raised me as Jon Snow, his bastard son,"

It took Ilizabeth a second to process the words he just said. She drew the lines in her head one by one, now realizing that Jon was really her mothers cousin, making him somewhat of a distant cousin to herself. The realization did shock her, but not nearly as much as the second wave did. Ilizabeth was taught about Daenerys Targaryen's attempt to resurrect her house name just a few years before she was born. Septa Hellicent had explained it all, and if Jon was the natural born son of Rhaegar Targaryen that made him the King of the Six Kingdoms. Not the Dragon Queen, not the men from the War of the Five Kings, not even her Uncle Brandon.

"That makes you the rightful King," She looked at him with wide eyes.

"Bran's the rightful King," He responded, "I'm just Jon now,"

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" She wondered.

"Because I didn't want to rule, and I was tired of fighting," He answered honestly, "My first few years out here I thought about it plenty. All my life, I looked up to my father, Ned. I wanted to be just like him. But when I learned about Rhaegar, I just couldn't help but wonder about him. In the same way I wondered about my mother,"

Ilizabeth understood what it was like to wonder. After all, her mothers' kept her conception a secret for a while. Although she told Brienne otherwise, she'd have to be completely oblivious to have never wondered if she truly had a father somewhere out there. And when she did finally confirm that she did in fact belong to both women, she also learned that she was destined to be someone important, just like Jon.

Jon rose to his feet, making his way back over to his bed before rustling through the pack on the ground. He pulled the thick black book out, and tossed it around in his hands as he stared at it.

"So the books about your father," Ilizabeth inferred.

"Aye, my old friend Sam had it made for me. He was set to become a Maester until he inherited his fathers land and became the Lord of his house. Still he and Bran somehow managed to conjure up as much information as they could and had this sent to Winterfell for me,", Jon smiled at it, " He must've known I'd come back,"

Jon sat back down beside Ilizabeth before handing her the book. She hesitated to take it, causing him to stretch his arm out further with persistence.

"Flip to the last page," He instructed her.

Ilizabeth did as she was told, she flipped through the creaseless pages until she came upon the very last one. There was a beautiful Illustration of Rhaegar, Lyanna and baby Jon right beside the page full of text.

"Robert's rebellion was based on a lie that claimed he kidnapped Lyanna, when truly, he loved her. Rhaegar tried his best to remain by Lyanna's side in Dorne for most of the war, but he eventually returned to King's Landing while Lyanna found herself pregnant. She died giving birth to their son, Prince Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of His Name. Rhaegar died just days before Aegon's birth and Lyanna's death. His breastplate was caved in by a powerful blow from Robert Baratheon," She paused, "Although history remembers Rhaegar as an evil kidnapper and raper. He was a kind, brave, wise, and honest man, whose biggest flaw, was love,"

"It's the only history book that writes the truth about my parents," Jon said before lookin back down at his hands, "Sometimes I wish people knew the truth. For their sake, not mine . . . but it doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Of course it matters, the truth always matters, " Ilizabeth reminded him.

Ilizabeth could tell her words meant something to him, even if it was small. She was clever enough to know that although she truly thought the truth was paramount, unveiling a secret like that now, would only do more harm than good. For the sake of the realms in desperate need of many good years filled with peace, instead of war and destruction, the secret love story of Rhaegar and Ellia would have to remain as one.

"I'm sorry people won't ever know the truth about your father, Uncle Jon," She said sincerely, "I'm glad, I know,"

"As am I,"

Ilizabeth looked back down at the book, starting to flip the pages back to the very beginning when a noise caught her attention. Winter too. At first it started out low. Just a few full taps against the side of the hut. Then they gradually grew louder, until someone started beating on it hard. Ilizabeth stood up, her eyes frantically moved around the hut, following the noise wherever it went. The tension growing in the nape of her neck didn't begin to settle until she saw her uncle grinning out the corner of her eye.

"What is that!" She said worriedly.

"Mundy, quit it!" Jon shouted, "You're scaring the poor girl,

Just as she fixed her mouth to question the whereabouts of the girl, the curtain flew back, exposing the pitch black sky and cool air once again. Her wild hair blew from the breeze as she snickered upon her entrance. Her smile was wide, and the dirt splotches that stained her face earlier were gone now.

"You scare easy, southern girl," Mundy joked.

"I'm from the North," Ilizabeth corrected her.

"Keep telling yourself that,"

"Why are you here?" Ilizabeth said in annoyance.

"Ya hungry aren't ya'?" She asked.

The growl that sounded from her stomach answered for her. Mundy smirked as she pulled the pack from her side to her front. She stuck her hand inside the bag and pulled out something wrapped in an old torn cloth. Winter immediately perked up on all fours. He trotted over to the girl, who continued to fight off the fear that loomed over her whenever he drew closer. She untied the string that held the cloth together, and lifted a reddish pink slab of uncooked meat.

"I figured your beast was hungry," She tossed it against the ground.

Winter laid down as he took his first large clump of meat. He growled as he tore it apart. Both the sight and sound used to startle Ilizabeth at first, but now she found herself growing used to it.

"Thanks," Ily said sincerely.

Mundy looked at the girl with her mouth slightly gaping. Almost as if she was stuck in the sound of her voice. She blinked profusely before shaking her head and quickly pulling back the curtain to exit the hut. Both Ilizabeth and Jon grabbed their overcoats, clipping their clasp around their neck before following after her. The stars twinkled differently in the Fangs. They could be seen as clearly as one could see the person standing next to them. Sprinkled over a sky of dark blues and purples. It almost looked as if there was magic in the sky.

They walked to the next hut over, arriving at the entrance of the largest one in the vicinity. Before they even entered, Ilizabeth caught a sense of what it would be like inside. Judging by the volume of the shouts coming from inside, the rest of Mundy's family was just as energetic as she was. Mundy held the curtain open, allowing Ilizabeth to only see a sliver of the inside before Mundy let it close right in her face.

"What is her problem?" Ilizabeth faced Jon.

He walked in front of the girl, and laughed as his hand touched the curtain, "Mundy gets a kick out of tormenting people. Just ignore her,"

Jon held the curtain open for the girl and let it go behind him. The family sat bunched up by the fire, laughing loudly as they occasionally took breaks to slurp directly from their bowls. Mundy's siblings were a lot younger than she anticipated. Based on the nature of the girl, she imagined she came from a pack of older brothers. But instead, Mundy appeared to be the eldest. The children sat beside one another, and the smallest girl left a spot between her and the man Ilizabeth presumed to be their father, open for Mundy. The two younger boys were the first to notice Jon. They looked at him with bright eyes, as if he was a God they'd been waiting to see their whole lives. Then their eyes lingered to Ilizabeth. One by one the rest began to turn their heads in her direction in complete silence. No one slurped, no one talked, no one laughed.

"Who's that?" The eldest boy said, still holding the bowl near his mouth.

"Everyone this is Ilizabeth Stark, she's my niece," Jon said.

Their father was the first to stand. He placed his bowl on the ground between his legs and walked right in front of Ilizabeth. He was large, terrifyingly large. His pupils wide and his eyes even larger. Ilizabeth looked upon the thick fiery strands of hair that sprouted from his face and head with hers completely turned upwards.

"You're little," He said before smiling and wrapping his arm around Jon, "Just like Crow here,"

"Ily, this is Tormund," Jon grinned.

"It's very nice to meet you, Tormund," Ilizabeth said politely.

"Come, come," He waved as he moved back into the hut, "I'll bet you're starvin',"

Ilizabeth followed the man, letting her eyes quickly dart from place to place. For the most part, the hut looked exactly like Jon's, only it was bigger, and heavily cluttered. Which made sense, considering Jon was a family of one, and had been vacant from it for over a year now. There were chickens hanging by their feet, animal skins too. A cluster of weapons stuffed into a box near a table with a series of small bone tools on it. And skeleton heads. Some were carved out into masks, some were placed as decorative items.

Ilizabeth quickly diverted her attention from those as she sat beside Jon on the last available log. She looked over the warm orange flames, now noticing that apart from Mundy and Shyra, they all continued to stare. The man reached down beside him, dipping two bowls into the pot, before crossing over his wife to hand them to Ilizabeth in Jon.

"Thank you," Ilizabeth smiled warmly.

"You talk funny," The eldest spoke again.

He sat directly next to her and was the spitting image of his mother. Only he had the same shade of hair and eyes as his father. His hair was long, and wildly curly, just like Mundy. The boy sort of reminded her of Rickon, as his legs and arms were awkwardly long, she imagined he must've been around ten and three.

"Well, so do you," Ilizabeth hoped her light-hearted tone was as it sounded in her mind.

"I'm Raymund, this is Oshen and Joramun," He gestured to the two beside him. Then he turned his finger to the girls on the adjacent log, "And that's Nelly, Lara, Sharma, and Mundy,"

Each of them waved as their name was called. Ilizabeth knew she wouldn't remember everyone's name immediately, but she'd try her best. It was hard to tell who was older than who, except for Sharma and Joramun who couldn't have been older than seven and eight. Which left Lara, Oshen, and Nelly somewhere between thirteen and nine. From what she'd gathered so far, they were a cute fun-loving family made up of mostly gingers. Only Nelly and Oshen had dark hair.

While the Ilizabeth fell into the natural order of waiting for utensils before starting her meal. But when Jon too lifted the bowl up to his lips, taking long loud slurps of the chunky stew, she knew they'd never come. She pressed the sleek wood up to her lips and tiled it back. Most of it went into her mouth, some sloshed to the side, causing it to drip down her cheek and onto her lap.

"Is your father the crippled boy?" Tormund questioned.

She didn't answer immediately. Ilizabeth was too concerned with accidentally swallowing one of the chunks of meat that floated in the broth. She didn't particularly care for the way it was shaped, or the scent the entire dish gave off.

"Oh, no. King Brandon is my uncle, too. My mother's name is Sansa,"

"Ahh, you don't look like her," He shrugged and took another long slurp before speaking again, "I always thought she'd stay with the big woman,"

Ilizabeth couldn't help but grin. She immediately knew the man was speaking of her other mother, because there were no other big women in Westeros.

"She did,"

She lifted the bowl back up to her lips, finishing off the bits that settled at the bottom before placing it on the ground beside her feet. By the time she looked back up, she could tell Tormund was slightly confused by the way the man's eyebrows were furrowed together.

"The woman you're referring to is my other mother, Brienne," She added.

"What about your father?" Tormund blinked confusingly.

"I don't have one,"

"You mean you don't know him?"

"No," Ilizabeth shook her head, "I don't have a father, just two mothers,"

Ilizabeth didn't even bother analyzing the faces of the family. She always received the same expression whenever she talked about her parentage. Complete disbelief and confusion. Sometimes, just to take the pressure off, she'd imagine the look on their faces after she tried to explain how they were conceived. She'd figured they would either fall out, or insist she was insane.

Her vagueness was enough to dissolve the conversation for now. Shyra waited until everyone was through with their supper before rising to collect the bowls. As she walked away from the pit to wash them out, Jon scooted over to replace her spot next to Tormund. They quickly fell into deep conversation as they caught up with one another. Every few minutes Tormund would let out a loud laugh and slap Jon on the back hard. So hard that his cup of ale jolted forward and dripped into the fire. The children grew occupied with their own topics as well. In a failed attempt to hold a conversation with their sibling three seats over, they shouted loudly over one another.

Ilizabeth was content with silently observing them. Being around their family reminded her of hers. And not in a way that would send her to bed sulking about how she missed them, but in a way that gave her something to look forward to when this was all over. Mundy rose from her spot across the fire and sat down beside Ilizabeth. For a while she didn't say anything. Instead she stared out ahead, looking out into the flames as they whipped in the reflection of her pupils. Eventually she turned her attention to Ilizabeth, but she still didn't speak.

"Has anyone ever told you, you have a bit of a staring problem?" Ilizabeth snarked.

"No," She replied blankly.

"You're insufferable,"

"What's that mean?"

"It means I find you to be very bothersome,"

Still nothing.

"You're annoying," Ilizabeth said dryly.

"Oh," Mundy said, "And you're slow,"

Ilizabeth's whole body practically turned in Mundy's direction. She'd been poking fun at her for days now and Ilizabeth had enough. She thought of a hundred different ways to tell the girl off, some of them started with how badly she smelled, or how untamed her hair was. But Ilizabeth couldn't bring herself to say anything. She didn't want to come off as rude, especially in their home.

"Why is it that you enjoy harassing me so much?" Ilizabeth asked.

"I like the way you talk,"

Ilizabeth definitely wasn't expecting her to say that. It wasn't the first time Mundy had left Ilizabeth too stunned for words, and she was beginning to get the feeling that it wouldn't be her last either. 

Chapter Text

Prince Rickon and Lady Greyjoy were sent out to their destinations the day after the small council devised their plan to recruit more allies. When the carriage finally stopped outside of Castle Karhold, nearly fifteen days later Rickon practically jumped through the wooden walls to get out. They were rarely allowed to make stops. Occasionally Rickon was allowed to exit in order to relieve himself, stretch, and rest. Any requests he made beyond that were ignored as the knights and horse coachman who had precise orders from the Queens’.

For the majority of the trip, he remained silent and discreetly jealous as he watched the insects buzz by in a blissful freedom out the window. There was little entertainment for him inside. Ser Malson was sent to accompany Lady Greyjoy to White Harbor, and his other preferred choice of companionship, Ilizabeth, was off on her own journey. Ser Malson was one of the six men in Winterfell at the time who had some level of sailing experience and although he had only been on a boat once, he was chosen by the Lady herself.

Which left Rickon to travel with the knight Sansa picked to accompany him. The most uninteresting man in the world, Ser Craig of the Queensguard. The man's personality was duller than a sparring sword. He only spoke when Rickon addressed him first, and barely went beyond a few short words when he did. For most of the ride he continuously dozed off whilst sitting straight up, leaning and stumbling awake every time the carriage hit something rocky as they rode by the frosted river.

Rickon was sure he was going to die from an idle mind, but when the familiarly strong river soil hit his nostrils he felt a youthful bolt of life return within. Ser Craig was the first one on his feet. His armor rattled as he stepped down, holding the door open wide for the young prince. Rickon took his time down the small flight. He immediately looked up at the great castle, squinting in amazement as the bright morning sun blinded him. Karhold was built along the Grey Cliffs, and sat perched up on two large rock mountains. From what he remembered, the castle was often in the midst of light fog. Giving it an appearance as mean as the Karstark reputation.

He didn't tell his mothers' of about the nerves that festered inside of him. From the moment they began preparing him for the task he felt a lump form in the back of his throat. His mothers' needed allies, and somehow they decided he was the man to recruit one of the most important houses in the North. The thought of failing loomed over him like a stormy cloud. It showered negative thoughts and outcomes until he was forced to shut his brain off. He tried to distract himself by playing word games with Ser Craig, but the knight struggled to catch onto the rules.

He imagined if his sister was here, they would have sent her instead. There were some moments where Rickon took it personally, but this would not have been one of those moments. Although he would never admit it outloud, he knew his sister was smarter than him. She naturally excelled at everything she did and paid close attention to even the smallest details of a story. Despite being hundreds of miles beyond the wall, Rickon imagined that because he naturally tuned out most of the long speeches his mothers gave him, Ilizabeth would still be more prepared for this than he is. 

Rickon rubbed his hands against his doublet, smoothing out any wrinkles that formed from sitting on his ass for almost a full day before following Ser Craig to the opening gate. The other two knights remained by the carriage as Ser Craig and Rickon passed the Karstark men guarding the gate and approached the bottom of the stairs.

Rickon spotted the dark haired man he'd known as Lady Karstarks husband, Lord Beren Tallhart, from across the long cobblestone walkway. After the Great Wars Sansa made sure any Lady left in charge of her house kept their name when they were wed. Their children would take their mothers surname, and the husband could keep his if he pleased. 

He stood at a considerable height and appeared to have a somewhat lean stature hidden underneath his dumpy carob tunic. Coming across the shoulders and chest was a sheet mesh chain that served as decorative armor. His hair was cut short, and his beard was scruffy. He held an awkwardly long smile that heightened Rickons insecurity as he slowly approached the Lord with his recovering leg. Although he could go on without his cane for a good while, he had to pace himself just above the elderly back in Winterfell to keep it that way. 

"My prince," He bowed with a hand over his stomach and one behind his back.

"It is good to see you, Lord Tallhart,"

"You as well. I am glad to see that you are back in good health," He said.

"Where is Lady Karstark, she should be receiving the prince," Ser Craig interrupted.

"My apologies, my lady wife was injured whilst riding her horse. The Maester says she will heal well, but the milk of the poppy has her in a rather delirious state," He responded.

"That's alright. Thank you, for receiving us, Lord Tallhart," Rickon replied before eyeing Ser Craig.

Lord Tallhart turned to guide them up the hundred step stairway to the castle. Rickon looked up at the huge flight, already feeling the gnawing pain he was sure to have once he arrived at the top. He requested that Ser Craig quickly fetch his cane from the carriage as he could not get up without it. The knight hastily walked back over to the carriage, and  briefly disappeared behind the entrance gate before returning with the wooden pole in his left hand. Rickon took in a deep breath before balancing himself with the cane.

One by one the wood tapped against the stone stairs before he hoisted the rest of himself up. There was no pain during the first thirty-five, but the closer he grew to the halfway point, the more he began to feel a dull throb pulse in the back of his leg. He stopped to take in another deep whiff of the soily scent, then pushed on. By the time they reached the top the ache had grown, but it was bearable. He looked out over the edge, now looking down at the small trees beneath the fog. Everything looked tiny from where he stood; the knights guarding the gate, the carriage he rode in, the horse that pulled it.

"My mother has sent me to speak with Lady Karstark specifically, when do you think she will be able to?" Rickon asked as he followed them inside the castle.

"I'll have to ask Maester Cressen," He responded. “I just saw her sometime ago and she sound asleep,”

Rickon sighed internally as he thought about having to wait for the Lady to wake. He imagined instead of taking him to the hall where he and Lady Karstark were meant to speak upon his immediate arrival, they were heading to a chamber where he could sit and rest until she was awake.

The castle walls were tall, and the ceilings high. Although the burning sunlight seeped through the cathedral shaped windows, the interior was still somewhat dull. The dim lighting from the wall torches helped brighten the area up, but Karhold was naturally a grim looking place. The castle was smaller than Winterfell, which made the tour through it a quick one. The only thing that wasn't attached to the main castle was the Sept, which was across the long wooden bridge they named 'Holders' Bridge'.

Rickon begrudgingly continued to use his cane as he passed the castle workers, knights, and other occupants of the castle who shamelessly gawked at his cane as they stopped to bow before him. It ticked against the floor like a clock until Lord Tallhart suddenly stopped. Rickon had been so consumed with keeping his head down in order to ignore the looks, that he barely noticed the young girl who magically appeared beside Lord Tallhart.

"Greet the prince, properly," Lord Tallhart spoke sternly as he placed his hand on her shoulder.

His tone was naturally frank and formal, but when he spoke to her, it became heavily authoritative as it dropped a whole octave. Rickon didn't recognize the girl, not until Lord Tallhart reminded him of who she was.

"You remember my daughter, Helenys, don't you?"

Rickon felt strange staring at the girl, but he had to stop and take a closer look at her. The last time he'd seen the young lady was when he visited Karhold with his mother many years ago. Despite her only being a year younger than him and her brother Eddin, she wasn't allowed to join the boys when they ventured from the castle. He did recall seeing her as they passed by one another in the hallways a few times, during their short visit. She had aged to six and was attached to her mothers hip the entire time. 

Eight years had gone by and as the girl grew in height, her features had also developed quite nicely. Her eyes were downturned and held the same shade as a jar full of sweet dark honey. Her rounded jaw came to a nice point, and the freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks seemed to have tripled. She was a lot prettier than he remembered her to be, especially when her deep auburn colored hair was brushed back into one singular braid that fell all the way down her back.

"My prince," She curtsied.

Despite her eyes being a warm and inviting shade, her pupils were dark, distant and dully lifeless. She looked back at Rickon, but it was almost as if she was looking through him.

"Yes I remember, it is lovely to see you again, my lady," Rickon said before bowing slightly towards the girl.

He gazed upon her face once more, hoping her expression would change in the tone of his voice. Not because he thought he was some alluring prince, but because he was truly being genuine when he said it.

"You as well," She grinned falsely.

"Would you do your father a favor and take Prince Rickon to the guest chamber?" His tone was convincing, "There is something I must attend to while your mother recovers,"

"Yes, father," She nodded whilst looking down at her boots.

Lord Tallhart turned and faced Rickon, "My son, Eddin, should be back from arrowing training soon, he's a lot more interesting than this one," he gestured to his daughter with a snicker.

He bowed before Rickon once more, and strayed from the path they were set to walk on. The prince was unsure of what to think about the way the Lord spoke about his daughter but his stomach was telling him that something was off about their relationship. Fathers were meant to love their daughters, and that sixty second interaction may have suggested otherwise.

Rickon made sure he made eye contact with the girl, he gave her a warm supportive grin before assembling directly by her side to stroll through the rest of the castle. Her deep brownish grey gown had a brown leather belt tied around the waist and a trail that dragged behind her as she walked. He kept his head forward and his arms tucked neatly behind his back as he tried not to curiously gawk at her. Rickon quickly noticed her subtle change in expression, and even caught her analyzing the way he walked through his peripheral vision.

"My brother told me about what happened to you," She said, "I'm sorry about that,"

"Why are you sorry?" Rickon asked.

"I'm sure Eddin had something to do with the reason you were outside play-fighting in the first place," She remarked.

He was unsure if her snarky change in tone was being directed at him or her brother. Rickon bit down on his lip, trying to hide his amusement poorly before replying, "I don't recall seeing you there,"

"That's because I was at home,"

"And why was that?"

"My father suggested I stay," She admitted honestly.

Her sheepish nature seemed to vanish the further they strayed from her father. Although her voice was still delicate, she now walked with her head up and spoke with more confidence. She almost reminded him of his sister. Only she was more refreshing seeing as how he'd never spoken to a Lord's daughter who was able to change faces in the way people changed clothes. 

Normally, because they were so heavily guarded by their fathers, they were timid little girls who turned away from the prince whenever he entered a room. But Rickon quickly began to wonder if what he witnessed before was an act, and if Helenys was truly affected by such royalties. They turned down the hall to the left and stopped in front of the first wooden door on the right side.

"Here we are," She gestured kindly to the door.

"Thank you,"

Ser Craig opened the door to a small bedchamber. It was nothing more than four stone walls, a small window, a bed, and a night table with a singular candle on it. Rickon looked inside with complete dread. Another second alone with Ser Craig and he considered finding a window big enough to fit him long limbs and throw himself out it.

"Could I accompany you instead?" Rickon asked the girl.

"I am meant to return to my chambers," She replied.

"How about you show me the Sept instead?" He moved a bit closer to the girl, leaning in so Ser Craig wouldn't hear him. "Please, he is the most boring man in all of Westeros,"

She giggled lightly, causing her warm breath to brush against Rickon's cheek as he pulled back to give her wide pleading eyes.

"Alright," She agreed.

Rickon disappeared into the room to place his cane on the bed before rejoining the girl back in the hallway. Just as they began retreating back to the main hall, Rickon paused at the sound of the Queensguard armor clinking behind him.

"You can stay here, Ser Craig," Rickon turned to face him. "Rest up,"

"I was told to stay with the Prince at all times," He replied.

"Well, I am ordering you to stay here," Rickon tried to deepen his voice to sound more authoritative.

"I must follow your mothers order," He insisted.

Rickon huffed as he turned back around. He locked eyes with Helenys, who looked back at him with an amused grin.

"Nice one," She sneered.

"Be quiet" He replied through gritted teeth.

Helenys and Rickon walked side by side, with Ser Craig lagging seven feet behind them at all times. The walls were made of the same dark stone from Winterfell, only they were not as heavily decorated. Their house sigil, the burning sun of the winter, was woven into some tapestries and hung from the banners here and there, but for the most part, the halls were filled with torches and windows. They passed a few other castle occupants on their way to the back of the main quarters. Then stopped in front of the large wooden doors with the two bright white sunbursts painted on both sides. Ser Craig paced in front of them, pulling the heavy door open and holding it as they walked through.

A subtle breeze blew through Rickons hair as he stepped further outside. He thoroughly enjoyed listening to the rustling of the leaves in the forest as the high altitude stirred the trees. Almost as much as he loved the smell of this place. He only had the pleasure of visiting Castle Cerwyn, The Dreadfort, White Harbor, and Karhold in his young life and this was his favorite so far. Instead of following the girl to the beginning of the bridge, he lingered off to the side, standing between two towers as he looked over the cliff.

"Do you get to visit many castles, Lady Helenys?" He asked her.

At first he thought she didn't hear him. He looked over his shoulder, watching as she began to make her way over to him. The wind whipped the extra fabric of her gown around calmly, giving her a majestic look as she approached him. Rickon found himself completely captivated by the girl's beauty. He was unsure of what to do with the feeling that was brewing inside him, especially because it was much different than the one he had when he kissed his handmaiden. 

Although it changed what Rickon thought he knew about himself, it wasn't enough to make him want to do it again, at least not with Eleanor. He thought maybe he was still feeling conflicted about everything, but something about the way Helenys eyes glimmered through the fog made him wonder what it would be like to press his lips against hers.

"I've never left home before," She answered.

"How come?" He asked.

"Fathers don't bring their daughters when they leave home, they only take their precious sons," She clearly sounded bothered by that.

Rickon couldn't relate to that for two reasons. One, he didn't have a father, and two, he wasn't a girl. He thought about Ilizabeth and how she accompanies him to Castle Cerwyn and White Harbor, but not the other two castles. But that was based on their rule of always having a Stark in Winterfell and she was always the first of the pair to volunteer to stay behind.

"I wouldn't know anything about fathers," Rickon said.

"Does it bother you," She asked, "Not having one?"

No one had ever asked him that before. Most just made assumptions about his experience based on the loose connection of his effeminate nature stemming from the lack of having one. They never bothered to ask him how he felt about being raised by two women.

"Sometimes," He answered honestly. "It was worse when I was younger, but now I rarely think about it,"

"I hate my father," She griped.

"How come? Lord Tallhart seems like a decent man,"

Rickon knew he sounded dishonest when he said it. He simply didn't want to imply that he knew anything about their relationship based on that brief interaction. Maybe the Lord's day had gone sour.

"Eddin is his heir and I am his daughter " She answered, "He only wishes to get rid of me,"

"What do you mean?" Rickon asked.

"He wants to marry me off so he won't have to be bothered with me anymore," 

She turned to face Rickon, holding a puzzled expression as she searched his face  for something. At first her eyebrows were still furrowed from the frustration that spilled over in talking about her father. But then they softened as she came to a realization about the prince. His pale face grew hot and flushed as his sparkling blue eyes gazed into hers.

"You're from an entirely different world, aren't you?"

That was what Rickon truly hated about not having a father. He didn't blame his romantic desires and personalities on the lack of having a male role model. He blamed his ostracization from the people of the realm on that. Every living being in the North had a father, whether they knew him, or liked him was a different subject. But everyone had one, and he and his sister were the only ones who did not. Having two Queens for mothers changed everything about the way he would interact with the rest of the world, and sometimes he felt himself struggling to connect with other people because of it.

"Maybe your father will let me bring you to Winterfell for a visit one day," He suggested.

"I'd like that,"

Helenys and Rickon stepped away from the edge of the towers and refocused their attention on getting to the Sept. She walked ahead of him, and stuck right arm out to grab the rope railing and she stepped out onto the planks of Holders Bridge. Rickon followed closely behind, using both of the railing to support himself as he slowly moved across the bridge. He looked through the fog and down the eerily dark sliver between the two large rocks. It must've been at least a hundred feet tall as it produced a low echo of the bridge's creaks. When they arrived on the other side, a man dressed in a recognizable robe and chains came from the tall structure.

"Maester Cressen?" Rickon called.

The man looked to be around sixty years old, but he was nowhere near as ancient looking as all the other Maesters Rickon had met. He began to think the Citadel only accepted the old and decrepit. Although it was mostly white, Maester Cressen still had most of his hair, and a beard that was trimmed neatly. He didn't hunch over when he walked but rather moved at a reasonable pace.

"My Prince," He bowed quickly. "Pardon me, It has been many years. I did not recognize you,"

"No worries," Rickon brushed it off, "I was wondering if you could inform me of when Lady Karstark might be awake,"

"Oh, Lady Karstark suffered an injury to her left shoulder. The milk of the poppy should keep her asleep until nightfall," He responded.

Rickon knew that if Lady Karstark were to regain consciousness too late in the evening he'd be forced to spend the night here. It would be rude to drag a wounded lady from her bed chambers in the middle of the night.

"Thank you, Maester Cressen," Rickon tried not to sound disappointed.

"My lady, my prince," He bowed before crossing over the bridge.

Ser Craig assembled in front of them, holding the door open wide once again. Helenys entered first, then Rickon followed behind her. Rickon took the time to appreciate the beautiful structure of the building. Built smack in the center of the building was a tree made of wood. Of course it was not a real tree that required sunlight, soil and water to grow, but a tree made up of other chopped down trees. The bark was carved off, and the wood was carved into a small replication of the sacred weirwood trees. They were the only three in the room, their clustered footsteps echoed through the large room as they approached the fake tree.

"What do you want with my mother?" She questioned.

"That is meant for her ears only," Rickon replied.

"Right, a stupid girl wouldn't need to know anything about it," She rolled her eyes and turned her back to Rickon.

He immediately thought of what the man had said to him earlier, about how her brother was far more interesting than she was. Rickon didn't want the girl to think he thought of her in any way that resembled the way her father saw her. Not in the slightest. From what he could tell, she was far from stupid or uninteresting. 

"Wait," He grabbed her arm, "I was sent here to recruit your mothers men. She does not wish to take part in the war but we need her,"

She slowly turned back around pursuing her lips together as she tried to hold back her laughter. Her naturally pink untoned face darkened a few shades, then a soft laugh slipped from her lips, echoing through the empty Sept. Rickon watched with his eyebrows furrowed up in confusion. Then they softened in realization.

"You little sneak," He squinted at her.

"I didn't think that would actually work," She snickered, "You're a lot different than I imagined you to be,"

"And how did you imagine me to be?"

"Well my brother thought of you as a pompous pillow biter who thought himself too good to associate with the other young lords of the north,"

"What's a pillow biter?" Rickon asked innocently.

"It's when . . ." She looked away as she grew flustered in trying to explain what the phrase meant, "Nevermind,"

Rickon held a straight face for as long as he could. As soon as her eyes connected back with his, a wide deviously toothy smile grew across Rickon's lips. His coarsely low laugh reverberated in the Sept, turning her amusingly embarrassed expression even redder.

"You tricked me,"

"I didn't think that would actually work," he repeated her words back to her.

Their laughter trailed off as he directed his attention to the replica of the weirwood tree. He stuck his hand out to touch the red painted eyes. Although it wasn't the real version of the tree, he felt a strong pull towards the symbol in general. He didn't want to sound insane, but he truly felt as if the Old Gods had a plan for him, a plan for anyone who believed in them. All he needed to do was continue to be a decent prince, and eventually a decent king, who was kind and just to people born of all social classes.

"I'm not pompous and I don't think I'm too good to talk to the other lords, I'm simply . . . reserved," He answered. "It's just, sometimes I feel like I'm the most important man in the world and that gets to be too much sometimes,"

"I thought you said you weren't pompous?" She joked.

"I'm not, I swear it," He laughed, "It's just hard being their son. One of my mothers is one of the best to ever wield a sword, and the other is the Stark who won back the North's independence. I can't help but think I won't ever have a legacy like theirs,"

"You are both male and kind, do you realize how rare that is?" She asked half-jokingly, "I'm sure you will do many great things to carve out your own path  when you become king one day,"

Neither of them paid attention to what little distance remained between them. They naturally gravitated towards each other as their conversation grew deeper. As new as this was for Rickon, it was just as new for Helenys too. She rarely had the chance to talk to other lords as she had never left her castle before. Plus her father would never let her wander around alone with a boy he hadn't checked the intentions of first. But she figured maybe she would see the Prince of Winterfell as an exception.

"And what about the other part?" Her eyes trailed away as she asked.

"I do enjoy the company of other men . . . but I think I enjoy the company of women as well," He answered honestly.

As soon as the words fell from RIckons mouth he felt as if a thousand pound anchor was just hoisted off of his chest. Regardless of him still being somewhat unsure about his romantic and sexual desires it felt good to admit that outloud alone. He'd been so consumed with figuring himself out that he forgot to remind himself that he still had so much exploring left to do. That he was allowed a moment to stop, think, and breathe while he searched deep within.

"I've never told anyone that," He said in awe of himself.

"Well, your secret is safe with me,"

The door to the Sept crept open, startling both Rickon and Helenys a few feet apart. Ser Craig turned with his knees bent and his hand on his pommel as they all waited to see who was approaching. Eddin peered from behind the large double doors, dressed in a dark grey tunic and black pants. His hair was wet and slicked down against his forehead with sweat. At first Rickon smiled warmly at the young lord, but as he grew closer, Rickon noticed a not so pleasant expression riddled on his face. His dark oak eyebrows were furrowed inwards, his nostrils flared, and his lips were twisted up like tree roots.

"What are you doing here?" He looked at his sister. "You're supposed to be reading with Septa Alga! Father is looking for you,"

"Prince Rickon asked me to show him the Sept," She responded.

"You're going to get us both in trouble,"

"It truly is my fault, Lord Eddin. I insisted that she bring me here," Rickon interjected. "It would be wrong to turn down a prince,"

He stared at his sister with pure hatred in the black of his eyes. Rickon was reminded of what he'd seen between her and her father, and now he was getting to see how her brother felt about her too. In the little time he spent with her, he couldn't understand why everyone seemed to behave in such a nasty manner  towards hers. Sure she spoke in a condescending tone from time to time, but overall she seemed like a kind girl.

"Where are my manners," Eddin said before bowing, "My prince,"

"I should probably get back," Helenys said as she gathered the fabric of her skirt.

"Head straight back to your chambers at once," He commanded her.

"My prince," She bowed without making eye contact. 

Rickon's heart filled with sorrow as he watched the girl walk away with her head hanging low. Eddin was able to change her mood faster than the castle workers changed the great lord and ladies linen. He bawled up his fist in frustration with her brother, her father and even himself. He thought about growing angry, and scolding Eddin for treating a lady with such little compassion. He also thought about kicking himself for being too afraid to speak up for the girl. By the time he opened his mouth to act, the door had opened and closed with Helenys on the other side. 

Chapter Text

The glare from the sun rising over the horizon was all she could see from the depths of the dark cave. She could hear her own heartbeat.

Boom, boom. Boom, boom.

Taste the iron in the blood that coursed through her veins. Feel the contrast of the flaming hot ice sitting in her glands. She was captivated by the dull white hue of her talons as she finally found the strength to head towards out into the open. There was no struggle, today she moved as free as a river. The sweet sensation of freedom, the honeysuckle scent of opportunity, was just another twenty feet away. Suddenly she began taking large strides towards the light, it grew brighter and brighter, forcing her eyes shut until the wind from the freefall whipped against her scales.

She opened her eyes, taking in the wonderful sight of the snow covered forest. Her deep mulberry colored wings spread out wide, flapping large gusts of winds downwards as she flew higher into the sky. In just four short months, her dragon had grown to be a bit larger than a fully grown horse. Seeing as to what the girl read about dragons, she didn't expect it to be this big for at least another few years. But it was truly impossible to set a single realistic expectation about anything residing in The Land of Always Winter.

Ilizabeth wanted to shout at the top of her lungs. She wanted to rejoice in her ability to fly, and when she tried, a large gust of azure blue flames ripped from her mouth. Ilizabeth was beyond elated. She soared over two hundred foot mountains and pearl colored rivers that divided into streams over a thousand miles long. She spun and flipped her body over and over until her keen eyesight picked up the small movement in the forests. The dragon turned to the left, collapsing its body together as it dove lower to the ground.

Ilizabeth's wings flapped over the tall trees, causing them to blow back, shaking the fallen snow from off the leaves and onto the ground with the rest. The snowfall created a haze over Ilizabeths vision, one that she wasn't able to see through until it settled. She saw a black seedy dot through the smoke, then two, then she was able to see its entire face. Its skin was heavily marked with scarifications and held the same pearlish pink hue as the water from the river. Its hairless head turned upwards in pure astonishment of the creature hovering over it.

Although Ilizabeth was intrigued by the creature, the dragon in her was too distracted by the sheep wandering in the mountains. She felt an uncontrollable sense of hunger wash over her. Her mouth was watering, her stomach was growling, and her teeth were sharpening all in preparation to pounce. The burning ice brewed in the back of her throat like a pot of tea, boiling over and spewing out flames. It hit the animal hard, immobilizing it as it was now buried deep in a thick layer of crystal clear ice. Her instincts landed her on the ground. Just as her jaw opened to clench around the ice and devour the frozen sheep she woke up.

Ilizabeth shot up from the bed, panting heavily as beads of sweat dripped down her face. Her hair was as disheveled as her breaths, and there was a dull white horizontal line of dried drool that ran across her cheek. Upon her rough awakening, she flailed her arms and accidentally struck her uncle in the groin. He groaned as his body now jolted upwards too.

"I'm so sorry!" Ilizabeth exclaimed as she threw her hands over mouth.

"What's going on?" He croaked while trying to suppress his agony.

Ilizabeth couldn't even begin to articulate what just happened. Whenever she warged into the dragon she couldn't help but feel an intense pull on her body, like she was straining to remain in control of it. She'd return to her own body feeling heavier than a pail of stones. She'd also never visited the dragon inside a dream. Anytime she overtook its mind before, she fainted as her consciousness was violently ripped from her body. But in her dream, she no longer felt caged. She could lift her legs, spread her wings, and fly without feeling a single weight on her shoulders.

"I could fly," That was all she could make out.

Jon's eyes were hardly open as the morning light shined through the light holes of the hut. He squinted in Ilizabeths direction before blocking some of the light with a cupped hand over his brows. They felt some awkwardness in having to sleep in the same bed at the start.

During the first night, Jon insisted that he would sleep elsewhere. He wrapped himself in a thick blanket and laid beside the bed on the solid ground. But when it came time for him to do his part in maintaining the village the next morning, his neck was stiffer than fresh leather. The next night, he slept on his side in the corner facing the wall, and Ilizabeth slept with her back to his. Despite being family, there was always a subtle strangeness in sleeping in the same bed as someone of the opposite sex.

"What?" He rubbed his eyes.

"I dreamt I was inside the dragon. I was flying over the land," She spoke as if she could still see it, "There was fresh water, and lively trees, and sheep, and mountains taller than the sky!"

She could barely contain her excitement. Ever since she and Jon had that talk at the top of the Wall, the thought of the Lands not being viable haunted her like a lingering ghost. But it was beyond viable, it was spacious, and beautiful. She could still see the sparkle in the pure white snow, like there was magic in every single fiber of the place.

"That's good news," Jon perked up, "What else did you see?"

Then she remembered the creature she saw just before she devoured the animal. Just as she could still see the sparkle, she could see the darkness in the pupil of the creature. The way it lacked an iris was terrifying. Nothing but large white eyes and black dots that darted around as it intensely watched its surroundings. Tiny little bumps forced underneath Ilizabeths night clothes. Her skin felt eerily cool as the image of the creature was stapled to the front of her mind.

"I saw the creatures too,"

"How many were there?"

"I only saw one. It was staring right at me," Her voice fell low.

"Alright, get dressed," Jon jumped to sit up on the cot fully, "It's time we meet with the others,"

When Jon and Ily arrived in the Frostfangs yesterday evening, they didn't talk much about her being the key to the lands to Tormund's family. Instead they finished their meals, and stuck around for a few hours, before heading off to bed. Ilizabeth spent her time answering the numerous questions Mundy's siblings threw at her. They wanted to know everything about life south of the wall, particularly for a princess. The third youngest, Lara and Nelly, expressed a great interest in what it was like having two mothers'. They had always been taught that the people from Ilizabeth's world were stubborn pricks, who rarely strayed away from tradition, and same-sex relationships were not a part of said traditions. After going into depth about some of her favorite memories from early childhood, and the mischief she and Rickon got into, Tormund had to practically rip the children away from her when it came time for bed.

Jon thought about what he was going to say to the leaders as he struggled to fall asleep for hours. Although he had indeed come back with the key, the ways in which they were meant to use her was still unknown. He felt slightly discouraged, as if he still hadn't done enough to save his people.

Ilizabeths bare feet collided with the cool ground as she rolled out of bed, stretching her limbs as far out as they could go. She blinked slowly, before grabbing her chest and ducking underneath the beam to stand out in the open. The heat coming from the blazing sun provided the hut with some warmth, but fire was the strongest thing they had to combat the snow. She waited until Jon threw his overcoat over the pole before beginning to change. She grabbed the hem of her nightgown and pulled the entire thing over her head. As her arms remained in the air for a few seconds she caught a whiff of something foul. Onions, one's that had been sitting out in the open for many days.

For a second she was unsure of where the scent was coming from. She turned in a complete circle, searching the room for the mystery of the vanishing smell. It wasn't until she bent down, hovering over Winter with her arms extended that she realized it was coming from her underarms. Of course she was familiar with the scent, but that was because it always brewed from Rickon's sweaty body, not hers. She drew her face up in complete disgust as she was displeased with having to ignore the smell for at least another day. When she asked Jon about getting the chance to wash her clothes and body he told her that she'd have to wait as the freefolk were barely able to hold onto drinkable water.

She quickly collected the undergarments she wore the day before, as well as the fine cedar leather tunic, and her thick wool pants. Winter rose from his resting spot, trotting over to Ilizabeth as she sat on the wooden bench, slipping into her thick boots. He placed his head on her leg, looking up at her with pouting puppy dog eyes. After he let out a few whimpers and ruffs, Ilizabeth succumbed to his cuteness.

"You're always looking for someone to pet you," She smiled as she ruffled the white fur on his head.

The second she took her hand away, the wolf wandered over to his bowl and drank from it profusely. Ilizabeth turned her attention back to the lacing of her boots. She focused intensely as she wrapped the long string around her left ankle and shin, then tied it in a double knot like she'd seen Jon do it. He had been the one assembling and dismantling the incredibly complicated pattern the freefolk tied their snowshoes in for the past two weeks. After her conversation with Mundy last night, when she returned to Jon's place, and he immediately went down on his knees to unlace her boots before removing his own gear, she realized she was a lot more pampered than she thought.

Of course, she didn't entirely see it as a bad thing. She understood that people waiting on her hand and foot was just a pleasure of being the Princess of Winterfell. It was her normal. Just as the freefolk doing things on their own, was their normal. But the girl couldn't ignore the burning self-conscious feeling that because she was no longer south of the wall, she needed to learn to do things on her own. To acknowledge that beyond the wall she wasn't a princess, but just another girl.

It took her a bit longer to get the right one down, especially because of the way it bulged near the top where her pants were tucked in. But she did, and she felt proud of herself.

"Are you decent?" Jon called from behind the curtain, sounding more awake this time.

"Yes,"

Jon yanked the overcoat down, throwing it over his shoulders before ducking under the beam. Instead of being dressed in the thick black wool and leather he had on for the past few days, he wore the same tan furs as the rest of the freefolk. Sometimes when Ilizabeth looked at Jon, she couldn't believe they were related. Although Bran had spent many years in the south, when he briefly returned to Winterfell he fit in like a soldier falling in line. Jon, on the other hand, looked like a fish out of water. His castle forged clothes, and sword kept him true to home, but his demeanor was different. He seemed reserved and somewhat anxious in Winterfell. But the second they arrived in the Fangs, his easy-going personality was restored.

"Great, now I'm the only one who looks out of place," Ilizabeth said.

Jon chuckled lightly before responding, "No one cares about how you're dressed, Ily,"

"I do,"

"Do you want me to see if Shyra can make one for you?" He asked.

"Yes, please," She nodded eagerly.

"Alright I will. Now hurry up and get your cloak on," He commanded her with a smile.

Ilizabeth patted her hefty black fur cloak, checking to see if placing it by the fire last night helped dry some of the dampness that came from the melted snow. Once she realized it had dried for the most part, she flung the cloak over her shoulders and fastened the wolf pin that clipped the ends together. Winter was the first to exit the hut, he zipped in front of Jon and Ilizabeth, flying through the curtains and out into the snow with an enormous amount of energy. Instead of turning right with Jon and Ilizabeth, the wild wolf bombrushed the pathway further into the village.

"Winter!" Ilizabeth called after him.

"He's fine Ily," Jon told her, "Direwolves are from north of the Wall, Winter can take care of himself,"

Despite Winter being meaner and mostly likely heavier than she is, Ilizabeth still felt a need to watch over him. He may have grown significantly in the past several weeks but to her, she was his to take care of, and she couldn't imagine not being there to protect him if something were to happen. Funny enough, Winter acted as if he had the same exact mentality about her. She watched the wolf gallop through the snow, admiring how he roamed freely through the land before swallowing her worries and focusing forward. Jon led them past Tormund's hut, to another that was just the same size as his.

"You can go in and wait while I gather everyone," Jon suggested, "They're a bit spread out so give me a minute,"

Ilizabeth nodded before parting ways with her uncle. While he embarked on a brief journey through the village, Ilizabeth disappeared inside the hut. She expected it to have the same exact layout as Jon and Tormund, but to her surprise it was completely different. Sure it was a circled enclosure, but there were no beds, no tables, no strings or bone tools. There were twelve wooden benches lined up in four rows of two on each side of the room, and placed at the opposite end of the hut, was a singular bench that ran from wall to wall. The firepit was small, and sat unlit, in front of the long bench.

The ceilings were just the same as the others, in some splotchy areas the material was rubbed thin enough to allow sunlight in. Still, it would be too dark to do anything without a fire. Ilizabeth sucked the cold air in through her teeth before moving deeper into the room. Just as she reached the first bench on the right, where the materials to start the fire sat, she jumped back in shock of the rustling that came from her left.

Her heart raced as she let out a short shriek, whipping her head to the left. Her imagination barely had any time to conjure up a deadly scenario as Mundy revealed herself from behind the bench immediately. She stumbled backwards, her eyes shooting open wide as she and Ilizabeth startled each other. Ilizabeth threw her hand over her chest, hoping that it would help slow her heart rate as she panted.

"Stop scaring me!" Ilizabeth shouted in frustration. "It's not funny anymore,"

"You scared me," Mundy responded in the same tone.

"Then why were you hiding behind the bench?" She crossed her arms.

"I wasn't hiding, I was looking for the matches,"

Ilizabeth narrowed her eyes as she looked at the girl. She hoped to learn the truth from examining her expression, but judging by the way Mundy held the same sternly persistent stare as Ilizabeth knew she probably did too, she figured Mundy was telling the truth. Guilt began to pour over the girl like wine to water. She was sure Mundy had done it on purpose, that was the only reason she responded in such a nasty manner.

"You're serious," Ilizabeth's tone softened.

"Ya know, the sun may revolve around you in the south," She said clearly still bothered by the way Ilizabeth spoke to her, "It don't here,"

"Doesn't," She corrected her.

"What?"

"The correct word is doesn't, not 'don't',"

Mundy's naturally red undertoned face grew brighter than the leaves on a sacred weirwood tree as she stormed towards Ilizabeth. She approached her with her hand raised, pointing her finger so close to the girl's face that Ilizabeth thought she might try to poke an eye out..

"You southerners still think you're better than us dontcha ?"

Ilizabeth took a few steps back as she realized she struck a nerve within the girl. Of course she didn't mean to, she just couldn't help herself. Ilizabeth was a know-it-all, and felt her best when she showcased her intelligence. Although she wouldn't admit it wilfully, she was venturing the land alone and the ostracization left her feeling insecure about certain aspects within. Her correction was simply a reminder that despite Mundy's jokes, she had things worth admiring in herself.

Even after she gave herself a whole spiel about doing more to fit in, she struggled with the thought of changing herself for others. But she was aware that she could at least refrain from telling them how to speak.

"I didn't mean to offend you," Ilizabeth grew flustered as she tried to explain. "I feel as if I can never say the right thing with you and I really am trying,"

"Don't correct me then," She snarled.

"Understood,"

Mundy continued to stare intensely at Ilizabeth before turning, directing her attention to the materials on the bench. She picked them up, flicked the pieces together, and tucked the small flame underneath the kindling. Mundy remained on her feet as she bent down, shifting the flames around with a stick to help it grow faster. Ilizabeth watched her in silence, practically burning a hole into the back of the girl's head as she racked her mind for words that would break up the tension between them.

"I get the feeling you don't like me," Ilizabeth said.

The second it came out of her mouth she wished she could suck it all back up. In fear of sitting in silence for so long, her mind settled on the first thing she thought of and that was what she came up with. Her own voice played back in her head, analyzing the pompous tone she didn't realize she naturally carried.

"You don't matter enough for me to not like you," She said with her back still turned.

"See," Ilizabeth slightly growing annoyed "You can't say things like that, and not expect me to have a response. It's rude,"

"Am I hurting your feelings, princess?" She stood up.

Mundy didn't bother to turn and face Ilizabeth, instead she began to grab torches off the wall, and stick them into the fire before placing them back in their mounds. Ilizabeth began to feel tears well up in her eyes as her heart sank. Her face screwed up, forcing a few salty droplets down her rosy cheeks. She sniffled, trying to keep the rest of her tears in her eyes. Mundy paused in reaction to the sound, her expression froze as she looked at Ilizabeth.

"Are you crying?" She asked with little sympathy.

The question sent Ilizabeth into sobs. She sat down on the bench, now burying her face in her hands as her tears pooled in her palms. Mundy's hard expression quickly softened as she began to feel guilty for being so cruel.

"Look, don't cry," She said awkwardly, "I- I didn't mean it,"

"I wish my brother was here, you'd probably like him better than me. I'm doing a terrible job of fitting in," She expressed.

"You're fitting in just fine," Mundy sat down beside her. She kept a small distance between them, and kept her spine stiffly straight.

"No I'm not," Ilizabeth pulled her face up. Her pale complexion was completely flushed and her face was stained with tears. "I thought maybe you would be my first friend here, but you hate me,"

"I don't hate you. I- Look, sometimes I just feel weird around you and I say things . . . but I didn't mean to hurt your feelings alright, I'm sorry," Mundy rambled on honestly.

Ilizabeth smiled as she stood up, wiping her forced tears away. Mundy looked up at the girl with her mouth falling open wide. Ilizabeth felt utterly pleased with her performance, ranking it as one of her best ones yet. Mundy's mouth began to ramble without actually uttering an intelligible word. She shot up from her seat, now standing at least six inches over Ilizabeth. She thought the girl was going to get angry and began shouting at her again. But instead of furrowing her brows, she grinned.

"You got me," She smirked, "I'll give you that,"

"Our mothers have a soft spot for tears, Rickon and I have been pulling that act since we were in diapers," Ilizabeth gloated before sticking her hand out, "Now that we've both admitted feeling weird around each other, maybe we can put it past us and be friends now?"

"We'll see," Mundy answered while ignoring Ilizabeths olive branch.

Jon and Tormund entered the hut with five other men and a woman following behind them. Ilizabeth practically fell out of her seat as she made eye contact with some of the horrifying looking members of the council. One man had bright burning eyes that pierced into her soul. Another's head was completely shaved, and riddled with scarification. And another had a face like a fish, and skin that was naturally pink.

She slowly slid away from the center aisle, feeling uneasy as the grimey, terrifyingly violent looking people passed by her. Her Uncle Jon told her that some of the freefolk eat human flesh, and she was sure that she could pick out who did simply based on their appearance. The small group assembled at the front of the room, each taking a seat at the long bench in complete silence. Ilizabeth remained somewhat petrified in her seat, staring back at those who stared at her.

"Mundy, we've spoken about this," Tormund said looking at his daughter.

"Please just let me stay, I might be able to help," She pleaded.

"Your mother needs your help," He ignored her pleas.

Ilizabeth couldn't help but notice her opposite reaction when the leaders entered the hut. Although their appearance may have made Ilizabeth's heart stop momentarily, Mundy has been trying to contain an eager grin from the moment she laid eyes on them. But that grin quickly fell the moment her father asked her to leave the hut before they even began. Mundy tried to keep her head high as she passed by Ilizabeth, but the blonde could see she was truly disappointed.

"I'd like Mundy to stay," Ilizabeth chimed in, "She's been a great help ever since we met. I'm sure she's bound to have some ideas,"

"Tah din grak?" One of the men said.

Ilizabeth didn't recognize the sounds coming from the man's mouth as a language at first. She may have been too distracted looking at the jam colored paint slacked over his entire face. Or maybe it was the way his teeth were filled down to thin points, one's that looked sharp enough to piece human skin with little effort.

"Baegrim wants to know who she is," Toramund translated to Jon before turning back to the man, "Grak din Ilizabeth, Jon's gram.

"I'd like for her to stay," Ilizabeth insisted.

Those who seemingly did not speak the common tongue continued to look at Ilizabeth as if she had an extra nostril or something while Tormund squinted at her with great intrigue. Ilizabeth looked upon Mundy's hopeful expression while awaiting a response.

"We really do have more important things to discuss," Jon chimed in.

"Alright, sit," He said.

Mundy quickly returned to the vacant spot beside Ilizabeth. She tried to mask her satisfaction with the same straight expression she always held, but Ilizabeth could tell from the small glance they exchanged that she was grateful for her support. Ilizabeth shuffled against the wood, subtly sliding closer to Mundy as she kept her eyes straight ahead.

Jon rose from his seat, standing powerfully tall despite being the smallest man in the room. His naturally brooding expression remained as looked from side to side before beginning to speak.

"I've brought you all here because I found what the woman in black told us to search for,"

By the time he finished his sentence his gaze landed on Ilizabeth, and so did everyone else's. She watched anxiously as Tormund leaned over towards the others, whispering what Jon had just said in their tongue.

"Now I don't entirely know what we're meant to do with her, but I am confident she is the answer to our problems," Jon's authoritative tone bellowed.

"Raekul, I remember you mentioning you used to be able to skinchange?" He turned to the only woman at the table.

Her dark colored hair was pulled into a braid that fell down the back of her freefolk fur. At first glance, Ilizabeth assumed she may have been one of the more average looking members of their council. That was until she noticed small carved down husks that stuck out of the scarications on her forehead like horns. She was unfamiliar with the term skinchange, but based upon the spine-chilling image of the woman, she feared she may not want to know anymore.

"Aye, I was a direwolf before the Nightrunners stabbed 'em up," She huffed towards the man with the bright green eyes.

Ilizabeth did her best not to make eye contact with him. They radiated a terrifying light. The exact same shade as wildfire, and whenever she did lock eyes with him, she felt as if she was being hypnotized by their glow.

"Whatever we find at night is ours to eat," He argued.

"Isegg, Raekul" He paused hoping his tone would cease their fighting, "Ilizabeth has been changing into a dragon roaming the lands,"

All eyes diverted to the girl once again, including Mundy's. The room fell silent, allowing for the muffled chatter of the villagers to seep in through the thick walls. Her face grew hot as she chuckled in a nervous response.

"Drah gon?" Baegrim repeated the word in common tongue, looking at Tormund with her face screwed up.

"Aman," Tormund tramslated.

He and the other man who seemingly did not understand now did. They too turned their wide eyes and gaping mouths towards Ilizabeth. Unless they fought alongside the northerners during the Long Night, no one had seen a dragon before. For as long as the freefolk had occupied their section of the Wall, no one had ever heard of a dragon originating from Westeros.

"How did a dragon get into the Land without any of us seeing?" Tormund wondered.

"That's because it came from the Land," Jon answered.

Another moment of silence passed. Although no one said anything, Ilizabeth and Jon were able to assume their disbelief by the way they eyed one another. Neither of them blamed them, speaking of dragons in the north was like speaking of the resurrection of wight walkers. Everyone in this room was familiar with the possible existence of creatures beyond their imagination, but no one wanted to accept it.

"My sister's wedding ceremony was attacked by the creatures inhabiting the lands. Led by a man who carried a map with an area circled and labeled with the words 'dragon eggs', fifteen years ago," Jon dug into his pocket, pulling out the old wrinkled piece of paper.

He unfolded the map, revealing its age through the tears and creases as he began to pass it around. They each took a turn looking at the map, recognizing the area where the dark red circle was as The Land of Always Winter. Ilizabeth had seen the map for the first time back in Winterfell, back before she knew what she was. As terrifying as the notion was, she couldn't help but feel somewhat invigorated at the idea of possibly getting to see one. When she was little, she spent hours sitting out in the grass, staring up the sky as she secretly hoped that Drogon would pass over the North as it roamed the world freely. But becoming a dragon was a million times more exciting than simply seeing one.

"Raekul, if you can teach Ilizabeth how to change on command, we can have eyes on the inside. Maybe we can find a way to sneak around the creatures inhabiting the land, and take them by surprise," Jon continued.

"You're being serious?"

"When am I not?" He responded.

She paused, looking back at map in Jon's hand before responding, "Alright then, I'll show her,"

While Tormund leaned over to reiterate the conversation once again, Mundy rose to her feet now too. Ilizabeth, who was slightly startled by her abruptness, tried to anticipate the girl's words by reading her expression But she had no luck. Still she continued to stare, now getting a different view of the scar near her mouth. It was a clean line that slightly scaled up her cheek as it drew further out. Judging by the darkness of the line, Ilizabeth assumed it was at least a year old.

"The reason we struggled getting into the lands wasn't because we didn't have a dragon, it's because our men were weak. And they still are! Their hungry and thirsty and a dragon isn't going to fix that, unless we're planning to kill it,"

As much as Ilizabeth wanted to be stuck on the bit about killing her dragon, she knew Mundy brought up an extremely valid point. Jon had said that they lost hundreds of people due to starvation. Some even tried to eat the carcasses they found in the woods, and those men died too. If they wanted to win the fight against the creatures, they were going to need more than the eyes of a dragon.

"You're right," Jon added. "What does the council suggest?"

The group turned to one another, mumbling ideas and words they were clearly unsure of as they shrugged. Just as they figured everyone had come up with blanks, the man with the fish face stood up. He had preserved kelp, hanging from the sleeves of his fur and braided into his long hair. And two small fish hooks lodged into his earlobes.

"When I brought the Men of the Frozen Shore to the Fangs, the land was good, we just didn't have enough men to fight them on our own," His voice was puny, "I don't know what it's like there now but if our people can survive the journey to the shore, we can teach everyone to fish from the Bay of Ice,"

"That's a stupid idea," Mundy mumbled. She thought it would be low enough to keep to herself, but everyone heard it.

"Why's that?" Raekul inquired.

"If we do what Bolkar says, and the land is anything like it is here. We'll have lost men for nothing," Mundy argued.

"I can examine the area," Ilizabeth spoke for the first time since the meeting started.

Once again, everyone's eyes fell upon Ilizabeth. Instead of shying away from the attention she stood up and cleared her throat. Her fingers naturally twitched, and her legs began to tremble, but her heart remained confident.

"Once," Ilizabeth paused looking at the woman, "I'm sorry what was your name again?"

"Raekul,"

"Once Raekul, shows me how to warg into the dragon whenever I please, I can fly over the Frozen Shore and see whether it is inhabitable or not. Without wasting any fighting men. It's south of the lands isn't it?" She looked at Jon.

He nodded in confirmation as he waited for her to continue with a proud expression riddled across his lips.

"It shouldn't be too hard, right?" She asked the woman.

"It took me half a year to learn," Raekul responded.

Chapter Text

A young handsome blonde haired man waltzed onto the beautiful white shore. Bursts of confidence seeped into the hearts of the men dressed in chainmail armor surrounding him. His long pin straight locks flowed through the breeze created by the crashing waves as he looked out upon the tranquility of the deep blue sea. He smiled as he inhaled the smell of fresh brine and blood.

Farther out beyond the descending white castles, were two large walls built into the sea. And at the posts, where the two walls stopped leaving a fifty foot gap open for the ships to come and go as they pleased, were two stone mermen holding golden tridents towards one another.

The man wore the merman on the chestplate of his armor as he hovered his trident over his last living enemy. The right side of the enemy's face remained paralyzed and expressionless while the left curled up in complete and utter fear as he had his back in the sand. Arms up in defeat. His sword was lost in the sand, his helmet was cocked down over his left eye, and wine red blood gushed out his leg like a stuck pig. The blonde lifted his trident over his chest, lining the middle point up with his heart before plunging it down. Ser Malson choked as he looked up into the sky, watching the light grow brighter until it was all that was left. Forever

His flesh squelched as the man pulled the trident out of his chest. He looked out upon the sea once more, now grinning assertively at the sigil on the ship of his enemies. A crowned, snarling wolf.

"Should we kill this one too?," A young shaggy haired man said as he dragged the struggling woman towards the blonde. He too held his head high and a bloody battle axe in his right hand.

The woman's dark coffee hair stopped just before her shoulders, with half of it pulled back, making it very easy to identify her without it falling in her face. Embedded at the center of the breast of her chestplate, a bronze kraken.

The man looked at her with a smile bigger than the one he held when he had Ser Malson on his back. As if she was the rarest piece of meat, and his day couldn't get any better than this.

"Do you know who she is?" He asked.

"No,"

"This is Lady Greyjoy," He leaned in close, while examining her face, "The Master of Ships to Queen Sansa Stark,"

The shaggy haired brunette started to laugh. At first it started with a few chuckles, then it grew into a maliciously excited one. As if he had just stumbled upon a treasure full of gold.

"I'm very glad we could come to an agreement, Lord Manderly,"

Sweat dripped down the Prince's face as he awoke in his chamber in Karhold the next day. His heart pounded in his head, fingertips and toes, as he sat up breathing heavily. Normally it took a minute for his mind to catch up with the rest of his body. But this morning, it was on high alert. Bouncing every single frame of what he just saw around his mind like a ball to a wall.

Ser Malson, dead. Ser Petyr, dead. The rest of the knights, dead. Lady Greyjoy, captured.

He wondered if it was something he could rely on. The tingling at the very tip of his fingers suggested maybe he was still asleep. A dream inside a dream. Just before he shut his eyes last night, he struggled to fight off his anxiety about his meeting with Lady Karstark. Maybe his vision came from the twisted root of his morbidly vivid imagination.

Rickon imagined Lady Greyjoy had yet to arrive in White Harbor and since she insisted on sailing, they would need to travel to Widow's Watch before setting sail. Making the journey at least two days longer than the trip to Karhold. He'd never had a vision in a dream, especially not one of something he was sure hadn't happened yet. But the more he thought about it, the less he doubted the reality.

He recognized the young blonde to be Wellam Manderly, Lord Wyman Manderly's eldest grandson. Both Wendel and Wylis, Wellam's father, died fighting beside Robb in the War of the Five Kings. Which made Wellam the next to inherit the Harbor after his grandfather passed. But last Rickon checked, the man was eighty-two and healthy. Yes, he was still pudgy, and tried to hide his double chin with a long thinning white beard, but the man waddled with great power.

He never knew Lord Manderly to be a man of unwarranted violence, which left him truly puzzled when he began to ask himself why he would send his grandson to kill the Queens men and take Yara captive instead of simply turning them away. That was when he began to wonder if Lord Manderly was still at the Harbor drawing breaths.

Rickon was unable to identify the shaggy haired man, but it didn't take a genius to know that whoever he was, he sided with the Cerwyns.

Rickon rolled out of bed. A patch of warmth grew over his left arm as he stood, stretching out in the line of the sun that poured in from the window. His face was queasily pale, and his curls tossed in every which way as the images of Ser Malsons lifeless body ran through his mind. He'd never lost anyone dear to him before and couldn't begin to think of how to process the death of his knight. His chest grew heavy as he began to think back on his reason for being here, and now that he knew Lady Greyjoy would not only fail to take White Harbor, but be captured, his mothers need for Karhold grew larger.

He autonomously began to redress in the clothes he arrived in as he stared off into nothingness, worrying about what would happen if he too failed. The bed creaked as Rickon briefly sat back down to slip into his boots. Before his injury he could dress a lot quicker. He could get into both his pants and shoes whilst standing, but now his balance was still off and required solid footing when preparing for the day.

After hastily pulling his messy curls back into a low ponytail, Rickon pulled the cool metal loop and opening the door wide enough to see Ser Criag who had been guarding the door all night. He walked outside, observing the dark bags underneath the knight's eyes.

"I must speak with Lady Karstark immediately," Rickon said seriously.

The boy was rarely ever serious. Even Ser Craig knew it, and when he looked upon the cold dead expression of Rickons face he practically spun on his heels to lead them down the hall. The ginger's stomach growled so loud it could be heard a few feet down the semi-empty halls. The smell of freshly baked bread, steamed fish, and boiled potatoes taunted Rickon's stomach in a cruel way. He was constantly growing, and so was his appetite. For a moment, he considered letting his nostrils lead him astray but the flash of his vision snapped him right back to reality.

They walked until they stumbled across a knight. Ser Craig ordered for the man to locate Lady Karstark and have her come down to the Great Hall as soon as possible. The young, stubby knight's armor clinked and clattered, echoing as he disappeared down the hall. Ser Craig quickly escorted Rickon past the castle workers who stopped to greet him until they quickly arrived in front of the doors of the Hall.

Rickon stood with his head buried in his feet and his hands tucked neatly behind his back as he tried his best to remain unphased by his premonition. He almost didn't look up in time. Another few seconds and he would have missed the young Lady Helenys passing by with the woman wearing a bright blue headscarf. He assumed she was the Septa Eddin was referring to the day before.

"Lady Helenys," He called out.

She stopped dead in her tracks, standing still as ice before turning to face him. "My prince," she curtsied.

"My lady," He smiled warmly at the older woman.

"My prince,"

"Have you seen Lady Karstark this morning?" He quickly redirected his attention to the girl.

"She was just eating with my father and brother in the hall,"

Rickon knew that highborn families always dined together. He never missed a meal with his mothers and sister, not until he began partaking in his morning lessons with Ser Malson. He couldn't help but wonder if this was yet another thing fathers didn't do with their daughters.

"How come you aren't dining with them? Have you eaten this morning?" Rickon asked, expressing genuine concern in the sincerity of his voice.

"I finished before the rest of my family, now it is time for my lesson with Septa Alga,"

"Oh," Rickon trailed off.

She held the same distant expression as she did yesterday when her father stood over her shoulder, watching her closely as she spoke. Rickon couldn't help but notice the way her demeanor switched whenever others were around. Although he just met the girl, he felt a sweet subtle longing for the energy he was fortunate enough to get a glimpse of.

"Would you mind if I speak with Lady Helenys alone for a moment?" Rickon looked upon the middle aged woman, "Just over there,"

She hesitated, looking upon the shorter girl out the corner of her eyes before giving the prince a nod. Rickon took the girl's hand in his. A quiet gasp slipped from her lips as she reacted to the rugged feeling of his slightly calloused hands. Her thumb brushed against the a small indentation in his hand, one that came from holding heavy pails for the past few weeks. He brought her to the other side of the hallway, and stopped just around the edge of the corner.

"Helenys, can I ask you a personal question" He hadn't realized he was still holding her hand. He quickly let go of it, brushing the moisture off palm against his tunic.

She hesitated, "Go ahead,"

Rickon's eye connected with hers as she finally looked back at him with wide, dilating eyes. Her hair had been removed from the braid, leaving it with a slight crinkle as some was draped over her shoulder. It shaped her angelically freckled face in a way that made Rickon's heart race.

Oddly enough, the girl daunted over his restless mind just as much as her mother did last night. She was the first thing he thought of when he returned to his chambers. It was almost as if his mind took mental pictures of everything he enjoyed about her. Her heavenly smile, her beautiful red hair, her budding sense of humor, even in spite of her relationship with her father. Rickon saw her as a blossoming blue winter rose in a dull field of grey.

"I know you don't like your father, but what about your mother? What do you think of her?"

"My mother has always treated me with kindness. She's often busy managing Karhold but I've never doubted her love for me or my brother," She answered honestly.

"Do you feel she is a malleable woman?"

"If you're trying to ask me whether or not I think my mother can be convinced to send her men off to fight in your war, then just ask," She whispered with a miniscule smile.

Rickon flashed her a phony smile back, to which she immediately noticed. He was trying his hardest to fight off the anxiety coursing through his mind like poison. The incident at White Harbor rushed to the forefronts of his mind again.

"Are you alright?" She said, giving him eyes of concern.

"I fear what will happen if I return to Winterfell without securing your mothers men,"

"I do wish I could help you, my prince. I know nothing of my mothers military intentions. But . . . I do know that she can be convinced to do what's right," She responded, "I trust that if fighting for the Queens is truly the right thing to do, the right words will prevail,"

Rickon nodded with his lips tightly pursed together. He tucked a loose curl back into the bunch, tucked his arms behind his back, and straightened his spine nice and tall.

"Thank you for everything, my lady," He said, bowing graciously.

"It was a pleasure, Prince Rickon," She curtsied once more.

They remained locked in an intense gaze as she wandered back to her Septa, who remained a comfortable distance away from Ser Craig. Something in Rickon wanted to lunge forward and bring her back to him. He didn't know what he would say or how he would act, but he did know that he only wished to be near her again. But instead of reaching out, or opening his mouth to call her name, he remained frozen in contemplation. Watching her walk away, just as he did yesterday.

Lady Karstark and a knight in shiny silver armor appeared from behind the corner of the drearily dim hall her daughter just went down. Rickon caught a glimpse of the woman stopping to check in on the girl. He felt a sense of relief as he watched her plant a kiss on the girl's forehead before returning to her power walk towards him.

"My Prince," She curtsied while slightly panting.

The lady often wore a more feminine styled tunic and pants, rather than dresses. The only time Rickon had seen her dressed like a lady was when she would attend the celebrations at Winterfell. She'd do her hair nice, apply light makeup, put on a simple gown, and enjoy the night with the other ladies. His mother Sansa in particular. Rickon could see the white fishnet bandage poking out from the collar of her top. There was no blood, but he imagined the lady must've still been in a great deal of pain.

"Lady Karstark," Rickon bowed, "I am terribly sorry for dragging you from your rest. Maester Cressen informed me of your injury, and I do hope you have a quick recovery. But the conversation could not wait any longer,"

Lady Karstark looked to the knight behind her before directing him to the door of the Great Hall with a nod. He quickly grabbed the handle of the left door while Ser Craig grabbed the right. Lady Karstark led Rickon into the well lit room. The combination of the light from the windows and the flame provided the still quiet room with a holy aroma as it was still somewhat early in the morning. Although they were suspended a hundred feet into the air, Rickon could hear the noises coming from the town below. It was on the east side of the castle and could only be seen from certain rooms as it was integrated with forests, rivers, and cliffs. He stood by the window, taking in another big whiff of the scent he loved so much.

The Karstarks white sun was etched onto a black tapestry and hung on the wall behind the long table with five leather chairs. Lady Karstark walked over to the table, now taking a seat at the middle seat. Her eyes were like honey, and her bright youthful face was riddled with freckles, just like Helenys. She wasn't a tall woman, nor was she large, but her aurora radiated a booming sense of pride and confidence. His mother described the Karstarks as a proud house, one that wasn't afraid to express their opinions loudly, and her appearance gave just that.

Rickon stood before the table, feeling slightly intimidated despite being much bigger than the lady and the knight who accompanied her. Despite having a plethora of power over many people, being the son of a Queen was not quite the same as being the Lord or Lady of a great castle. There was still room for admiration as he was not yet the man sitting behind the table.

"Lady Karstark, I come to you on behalf of my mother, the Queen," Rickon said proudly.

"At least she had the decency to send a person to come and speak with me face to face," Lady Karstark remarked, almost as if she was talking to herself.

"I'm sorry?"

"I know why you're here, Prince Rickon. The Queen wants my fighting men," She paused and began to dig in her pocket before tossing an unraveled raven's scroll onto the table, "And so does Rickard Cerwyn, the man leading the rebellion,"

Rickon could sense the mockery in her tone. It was clear she didn't have any interest in fighting for House Cerwyn which brought some ease to his rampant mind. But he couldn't understand why she would choose to sit out if she backed the Queen.

"You acknowledge that my mother is the rightful Queen then," Rickon asked.

"I may have raised questions fifteen years ago, but I pledged my sword to the Queen just as everyone else. I won't ever turn my sword against her," She answered.

"So why won't you turn your sword against those who seek to overthrow her?" He pleaded.

"Prince Rickon, are you familiar with my grandfather, Rickard Karstark?" She asked.

The boy racked his mind for the name. He barely paid half as much attention as Ilizabeth did in her lessons, when he was forced to read with Maester Horden. There were so many people named Rickard including his own great-grandfather. Of course, them all dying in some horrific manner only served to make it harder for him to remember what happened to who.

"I am not," He responded, trying his best to sound humble.

"My grandfather supported your Uncle Robb's claim to the North after Lord Stark was killed by the Lannisters. He fought in the War of the Five Kings, and so did my uncle," She paused, "When Jaime Lannister strangled his son, my Uncle Torrhen, do you know what he demanded?"

"I do not, my lady," Rickon sighed.

He could already feel by the way she rehashed the story that this was not going in his favor. White Harbor washed to the front of his mind like the blood of Winterfell's men. At this moment he thought all was lost. That he'd have to listen to her story, and walk away with nothing but a dream of death.

"He demanded justice, and do you know what he got instead?"

"No,"

"His head cut off, by Robb Stark himself,"

Rickon remembered it all too clearly now. Seeing as to how Robb consequently lost ten thousand fighting men, some describe the decapitation of Lord Rickard Karstark as the war's turning point. Other's say he lost the war the second he went back on his promise to wed one of Walder Frey's daughters once the war was through.

"Do you know how my father died, Prince Rickon?" She continued.

"I do not, my lady,"

"He died fighting for the Boltons after they killed your uncle and stole your home,"

"Lady Karstark, my mother is not her brother" Rickon finally cut in.

"But she is," Lady Karstark said all too easily, "Your mother may not have beheaded another Karstark but she did behead Lord Cerwyn . . . along with his son and five of his banner men, I hear,"

Rickon practically choked on his own tongue as she threw his words right back at him. He tried to find a way around her point, but there wasn't a single crack in the argument she made. Everything she said was true.

"It sounds as if the Queen's gone mad," She added.

"Please correct me if I am wrong, but my Uncle Robb beheaded your grandfather because he went against the king's orders and killed two innocent children,"

"They had Lannister blood,"

"But they weren't Jamie Lannister," He argued.

"It's all the same," She griped. "Justice is justice,"

"How is killing innocent children justice? Would you feel that way if it were Eddin and Helenys," Rickon asked, "If you or your husband did something horrible, would you want your children to pay for the crimes, while you got off scot-free?"

For the first time since they entered the room. Lady Karstark was silent. Rickon felt the conversation begin to tilt as if it were a scale. His side was growing heavier and heavier by the second.

"Your grandfather killed boys who probably didn't even know the Kingslayer," He continued, "And I know that doesn't soften the emotional toll of your loss but what are the laws for if we do not uphold them,"

"Cley Cerwyn conspired against my family. He encouraged Mikah to stab me at my own celebration, whilst I had my back turned. And when he had the chance to confess to his crimes, he revealed himself to be a traitor to the realm,"

Lady Karstark remained in silence. Rickon paused as he did not want to overdo his speech. He wanted to feel pleased with himself, proud of how he combatted his nerves but the still quiet room only served to heighten his insecurities.

"The Queen killed Cerwyns because their boy put a sword through your leg. My grandfather killed Lannisters because their boy strangled his son. Can you inform me of the differences you see, Prince Rickon?"

Rickon’s mouth closed quickly. Just when he thought he was on the rise, she smacked him back to the ground with more cold hard truths. He began to feel the panic clawing up his throat as he rehashed as much of the history as he could. Although Rickon felt there was a slight difference seeing as to how the Cerwyns were not as innocent as the Lannister children, he knew what she was implying. The only real difference was that Sansa was allowed to keep her head, because she’s a Queen and Lord Karstark was not. He could plainly see how unjust the situation appeared to be, and it was not going in his favor. 

“It almost sounds as if my mother and your grandfather had much in common,” He joked. 

Once he realized the Lady was unamused by his jest he tightened up. Rickon nervously fixed his hair while stiffening his posture. Just as he began to ponder his next words he thought of the biggest difference between the two. His mother held regret for what she had done. She acknowledged that she should have never gone to Castle Cerwyn in a raging ball of fury. That if she hadn’t those men would still be alive, and she would not be facing a huge revolt in the north. 

"Why should I send my men to fight for another Stark who only remains bound to the laws when their name is dishonored?"

"Because that is not the case!”

Rickon began to grow frustrated with the woman's words. Sure he could understand how things between the Starks and Karstarks were incredibly messy, but he did not agree with his family only caring for their own. It was his mother who ensured the integration of the freefolk went smoothly for parties. She was the one to pardon those that refused to fight during The Long Night, and allowed them to keep their place as the head of their castles. She brought independence back to the North, and politely listened and acted on every complaint she received because she was the one they appointed to do so. And she did it for the sake of everyone, not just herself.

“Lady Karstark, you know the Queen very well. She has always been a kind and caring woman. She changed the rules for women, freefolk, and bastards, ensured that all people were taken care of, and personally saw that each and every house had plenty come winter. Every single year.” He paused. 

“She will spend the rest of her days begging the Old Gods for forgiveness for what she did, but it would be unfair to judge her because of past grievances between our families. I think you are well aware that the realm will not find another ruler who cares for all in the way she does, not now, and especially not in a man like Rickard Cerwyn,"

The Lady adjusted herself, sitting further up as she narrowed her eyes towards the prince. He stood still as they scanned his entire body from the soles of his boots, to the top of his bright red hair. A small smirk grew across her lips.

"When I heard the Queen was pregnant with you and your sister I was sure you'd come out deformed,"

Rickon was unsure of how to react to such a statement. It was bold, shocking and borderline rude. But he held his tongue, as he was in her home, in need of her men.

"Either that or with something that would suggest who your real father was," She paused, "But here you stand, a fine, strong young boy, with the face and heart of a Stark and the body of a Tarth. It's truly miraculous,"

"Thank you?" He said as if it were a question.

"You don't need to remind me of what your mothers done. My house will live on through me, a woman, because of her laws. I will forever be grateful to the Queen for that, but how can I be sure something like this won't happen again?"

Rickon didn't know how to assure the woman. There was nothing he could do to assure the woman that it wouldn't happen again. He could only give her his word, and pray to the Old Gods that it would be enough. And so he did. Rickon drew his sword, and laid it flat on the ground in front of him. He pushed his cloak further as he fought off the pain from bending. He stumbled down on one knee, hissing through his teeth as a small bolt of pain rushed up through his leg and up his spine.

"Lady Karstark, I swear to you, that from this day forward no ruler that goes by the name of Stark shall ever behead another high lord without having them stand trial first. House Stark values everything the northern ancestors have done in support of ours, and we shall show the future generations mercy in honor of them," He spoke with a new found confidence.

"My mothers, the Queens' swear it. I swear it as heir to throne, and I swear it on behalf of my children and their children when they succeed me,"

Her face remained neutral as she processed Rickons words. He grew worried as the sound of Karhold filled the room once again. Rickon placed his hand on the ground to stabilize himself as he waited for a response. His head hung low as he fought through the pain. He thought back to his Uncle Robb, wanting to curse him for putting them in this current precarious situation from the tombs. Then Rickon began to think of what he learned from his uncle and arrived at a brilliant idea. One that he himself was unsure of, but ultimately knew it would help him achieve his goal.

"And to show you good faith, I ask for your permission to wed your daughter, Helenys," He blurted out.

He couldn't believe the words had fallen from his lips, and neither could she. Rickson assumed he held the exact same expression as the lady, only his mouth didn't quite gape in the same way as hers.

"You want to marry my daughter?" She asked, completely stunned by his proposition.

"I will bring her back to Winterfell, and wed her once the war is through. She will live out the rest of her days with me at the castle, and be my Queen once I sit the throne." He added, "As long as you promise to send your men when called upon,"

He didn't realize that although he was the prince, it would probably sound more polite to ask until after the words spilled from his lips. The girl was a lady, afterall. And ladies deserved to be treated with a bit more grace than he was showing her.

"If it pleases you, my lady,"

Lady Karstark rose from her chair, motioning for Rickon to rise too. She could tell the boy was in pain, and simply did not wish to have him further injured on her grounds. Time began to move slowly as Rickons heartbeat intensified. It grew louder and louder until it was the only thing he could hear as Lady Kasrstak opened her mouth.

"The Karstarks are the Starks' kinfolk. Your blood is my blood, and my men fight for their own. It would be a great honor to have you wed Helenys and to fight alongside the Queen during the war to come, Prince Rickon,"

He imagined she denied him. That he would be returning home with empty hands and an empty heart. But that was not the case. Her words replayed in his mind, the correct way this time. On the outside the boy remained composed. He tucked his hands behind his back and nodded proudly. But on the inside he was jumping for joy. Standing from the top of the castle screaming to the top of his lungs in celebration. The pain of losing Ser Malson, and the lost alliance between his house and the Manderlys subsided as he was incredibly proud of this great victory.

"Thank you, my lady," He bowed slightly, "Exactly, how many fighting men can we expect?"

"Just under eleven thousand," She replied.

"I will need to bring at least half back to Winterfell with me now, I fear there may be some trouble when I return,"

Chapter Text

Ilizabeth squatted over the trench with both feet flat on the ground as she held her breath. It had recently been soiled in, and although a pile of dirt was always thrown over it, it reeked a rather offensive stench. Chamber pots, it was another thing she could add to her list of simple things to appreciate when she arrived back home. She hated using the latrines. She hated having her bare bottom out in the cold, and having to use a folded leaf sheet to wipe. The entire process was something she quickly deemed foul and unlady-like.

Ilizabeth released the fabric of her long coat before grabbing the shovel to toss the dirt on top. She spun in a complete circle on her toes, circling for a bucket to wash her hands in with no luck. Soap and water. Another thing to add to her list. She retreated to the pathway, trying her best to shut out the thought of each and every germ residing on her hands while she walked back to Jon's hut. There were two latrines built along the path, and the closest was still somewhat of a walk from home.

Once the unnerving restroom situation idled in her mind, she refocused her attention to her clothing. Ilizabeth practically bounced as she trudged through the snow in her new hefty fur coat and pants. The freefolk may have jested about her fancy warm castle forged clothing, but their overcoats were practically impenetrable. For the first time in days, she truly did not feel an ounce of cold anywhere except her face which remained exposed to the freezing temperature. It was always more manageable in the daytime anyways, and the sun had been radiating its warmth over the village for a few hours now.

Just as she began to think of how kind Lady Shyra was for making her clothing so swiftly, she saw the woman approaching her with Mundy, Joramun, and Sharma. The children were the first to notice Ilizabeth as they quickly grew attached to her in just a few short days. It all started with their obsession with her bright blonde hair, then it was her family, then it was her castle and anything else that stood apart from their expectations about those born south of the wall.

Ilizabeths gaze inevitably lingered on from the children, now stopping at Mundy. It was clear Mundy was uninterested in crossing paths with the princess as Ilizabeth watched her try to pull her mother and siblings in the other direction, but it was too late.

"Ilizabeth!" They shouted simultaneously before taking off.

The snow they kicked up in their trail fell into small piles as they rushed towards her with their arms spread wide. A wide smile grew on Ilizabeths face as she knelt down to embrace them. Because they were still children, they were still relatively small. But the "giant" gene Tormund proclaims to have, hasn't seemed to skip a single one of his offspring. Sharma and Joramun were pretty solid sized children who hit Ilizabeth like a rock against a pile of snow.

"Hello you two," Ilizabeth laughed while trying to catch her balance.

"Are you coming to supper again tonight?" Sharma asked, looking underneath her wavy copper bangs.

"As long as I am invited, I shall never stop coming back for more of your mothers delicious stew," She grinned.

"Will you tell us that story again? The one where we live inside the eye of Macumber the giant," Joramun waved his arms around, flashing his missing teeth as he smiled.

"Of course,"

By the time Ilizabeth rose back to her feet she stood in front of Mundy and her mother. The young girl still towered over both women as she looked out beyond the lands, slouching in disinterest. Shyra carried a woven basket full of mixed foods; carrots, apples, and potatoes, on one hip and a few folded fur cloths in her other hand. She smiled warmly as she approached Ilizabeth slightly panting.

"Hello Ilizabeth,"

"Hello Shyra, Mundy," Ilizabeth smiled.

"Hi," Mundy said plainly.

Ilizabeth hoped that after their conversation something would change between her and the girl. But Mundy showed little interest in lightening up on Ilizabeth. Instead of attempting to befriend the girl, like Ilizabeth offered, she had chosen to ice her out. When they passed one another, she barely acknowledged her presence and when she did, it went barely beyond the brief hello she received now. Normally Ilizabeth wouldn't be too concerned with people not liking her, but for some reason, she desperately wanted Mundy too.

"Say, have you bathed since you arrived?" Shyra asked boldly.

Ilizabeth took a slight step back. She knew she smelled sour but she didn't need the woman to tell her that. She thought everyone here stunk, and she wasn't walking around asking people when they bathed last.

"My apologies, I have been waiting for my uncle to inform me of when-"

"Oh no, I didn't mean to say you stink," She interrupted with a light-hearted laugh, "I only asked because we were heading to wash up now, care to join us?"

Ilizabeth drew her face up, now feeling somewhat flustered at the suggestion. As much as she didn't feel comfortable having to bathe in front of anyone besides Eleanor who always gave her baths, she knew she was in desperate need of one.

"Yes that would be great," Ilizabeth nodded bashfully.

"I just need to drop these off to Lokleck, it's along the way," She gestured to the basket of food.

Ilizabeth followed behind Mundy and her mother, holding the children's hands they skipped. She quickly tied the name Lokleck to the leader of the Whitetree clan who used to reside in the Haunted Forest. Ilizabeth had done her best to remember the leaders, the name of their clan, and where they resided before uniting with the other freefolk in the Fangs.

Skarolf was the Lord, or Magnar, of the Thenns. He barely spoke the common tongue but was somehow appointed their translator from time to time. Raekul was the leader of the Hornfoots who have always lived near the Frostfangs and received their name from their notorious reputation for climbing. Isegg was head of the Nightrunners, a clan who was always in conflict with the Hornfoots as they hunted in the same lands, masked by the darkness. Bolkar commanded the Men of the Frozen Shore, the only survivors that lived relatively near the Land of Always Winter and survived off of the flesh of the sea creatures they caught. Baegrim headed the Cavedwellers, who file their teeth and don't know a single word in common tongue. Tormund was in charge of the Ice River clan, and Jon commanded the Milkwater Clan.

There were a few other clans who had little survivors and ultimately wound up merging into one of the other seven. It was a lot to remember, but Ilizabeth prided herself on knowing every nook and cranny of everything she could possibly retain.

They stopped outside another subsection of large huts, and stepped aside so those still traveling could pass by. Ilizabeth silently observed the people passing by. Most of them were dressed in shaggy looking furs, and their heads were shaved bald, marked with scarifications. It seemed to be a common thing around these parts of the village. Although Ilizabeth didn't necessarily judge them, she couldn't help but fear one of them might snap and pummel her if she simply breathed the wrong way.

"No need to look so scared princess, they don't bite," Mundy teased.

"I believe that's the most you've said to me in two days," Ilizabeth smiled falsely, "I'm honored,"

"Are you saying you missed me princess?" She grinned.

Too caught up in the solicitous smirk Mundy gave, Ilizabeth hesitated. Her brain of course wanted to be snarky and reply with a very sharp and brief "no". But her heart pounded stubbornly, keeping the word from falling from her lips.

"I'm saying, I thought we were going to be friends," Ilizabeth responded.

"Why don't you want to be friends with Ilizabeth? She's nice," Joramun chimed in as he still clung to Ilizabeths hand.

"Yeah!" Sharma's little voice added.

"We're . . . friends," Mundy defended herself.

"Are you lying?" He squinted, pointing his finger.

"No, I'm not lying,"

She grabbed the boy and swiftly lifted him into the air as she jostled him around. His contagious giggles grew until he began to beg for her to stop. Mundy's playful nature settled, but instead of returning the boy to the ground she lifted him over her head and placed him on her shoulders. Ilizabeth was impressed with the way the girl did it so effortlessly. Joramun may have been the largest seven year old she's ever seen.

Shyra returned from the large tent, now carrying the folded furs with a smile. She was always smiling, as if every day was another she was glad to have seen. Nothing extraordinary would happen. Some of the days around here became hard to differentiate but Shyra remained grateful anyways. Ilizabeth couldn't help but enjoy being around her. The woman naturally radiated a contagiously pleasant energy.

They walked a little less than a quarter of a mile before Joramun, who was still sitting high on Mundy's strong shoulders, pointed out the bathing tents. The snow crunched loudly as the cluster derailed from the path, and began walking towards the hut. A young man came from the tent, just as they stood before it, patting his hair dry with one of the same furs Shyra was carrying.

"Men bathe here too?" Ilizabeth said horrifically.

"Yes, but there's no need to worry about anything happening here," Shyra responded gently.

Ilizabeth did her best to swallow the overwhelming lump forming in her throat. She waited for Mundy to place the boy back on the ground before following the line inside the tent. A wave of relief washed over the blonde as she looked around the room. The man they passed was the last to leave, granting her a bit more comfort as she was now forced to bathe with women and children she somewhat knew.

The hut was small and did not have the opaque skylight like the others. Which left the room with a dimly warm aroma. It fit three long shallow wooden tubs, two on the left hand side and the other on the right. There were three wooden stools placed right beside them with custard yellow squarish bars of soap. The planks the tub was constructed of were old, and some of them gapped at the top, allowing for small amounts of water to spill over occasionally.

"You and Mundy can use the two over there," She gestured to the left, "The children and I will use this one over here,"

Shyra tossed two of the cloths into Mundy's arms, before placing her hand against her children's back, scurrying them over to the other side. Mundy tossed the towel at Ilizabeth without warning. She scrambled trying to catch it on its way to the ground after hitting her chest. The tall ginger pranced over to the tub closer to the back and quickly began undressing while Ilizabeth wandered slowly over to hers. Her stomach knotted and a moist queasy feeling formed in the back of her throat as she looked down into the murky water.

"This water looks as if it has been used," She called with her face scrunched up

"That's because it has," Mundy said mockingly.

"I can't bathe in someone else's bath water!" Ilizabeth proclaimed dramatically.

"I don't know if you've heard princess," She paused before sliding her bottoms off, "But the water around here's no good. Gotta make do with what we got,"

Ilizabeth's eyes went wide as she was flashed a full moon. Her face grew hot and red. Just as she went to shield her eyes with her small hands, she caught a glimpse of Mundy's bath water. She could see through it clear as day, straight down to the dark wooden bottom.

"Yours isn't used!"

"Guess I'm lucky then," She lifted her leg to get into the tub.

"Wait! Please, I'm begging you. Please don't make me use this tub, please," Ilizabeth practically cried.

Mundy held a long stare before letting out a grumpy sigh. Both feet returned to the ground. She yanked her towel off the stool, causing it to rattle as she eyed Ilizabeth bitterly. Ilizabeth awkwardly kept her eyes on Mundy's the entire time, staring back as the girl probably thought about how much she hated 'southerners'. She walked over towards Ilizabeth and placed her towel on the edge of the wooden stool before quickly dipping into the murky water.

"Thank you," Ilizabeth sighed before scurrying to her side.

She did the same as Mundy, tossed her towel on the edge of the stool with the bar of soap before placing her hands over the buttons of her coat. Ilizabeth peeked over her shoulder, checking to see if Mundy was watching her. Once she saw that the girl was sitting back, relaxing in the leaden water with her eyes shut Ilizabeth quickly brought her attention back to her buttons in fear of coming across as skeevy. She let out a deep breath before removing her clothes and getting into the freshwater.

Some of it spilled over as her body sank down to the bottom, its pitter patter against the ground sounding like a gush of rain. The water was nowhere near warm, as if it had probably been sitting in the tent for a few hours now. Still it was bearable and was the best thing she was going to get. Just as she reached to grab the soap, she caught a glimpse of Mundy. She was unsure of whether or not the girl was looking in her direction, but couldn't shake the feeling that she was. Instead of giving it any attention she grabbed the soap and pressed it to her nose. Unsatisfied with the lack of lavender scent embedded into the bar, she dipped into the water and began to scrub her limbs.

Naturally she began to hum a tune as her mind and body relaxed in the cleanliness. This time she was sure Mundy was looking. Just as she was about to arrive at the chorus she turned her head.

"Why are you staring at me?"

"I'm not," Mundy faced forward.

"I literally just caught you,"

"In order to catch me you'd have to be looking over here," Mundy argued.

"You are such a child," Ilizabeth rolled her eyes.

Ilizabeth refocused her attention to her bath. She began to scrub her skin a lot quicker and faster as she desperately wanted to put her clothes back on. The girl made sure the bar touched every inch of herself. Then began to do it all over again just to be sure she was as clean as she could possibly get.

"I didn't mean to," Mundy said.

"What?" Ilizabeth wasn't sure if she heard her correctly.

"I didn't mean to look," Mundy admitted, "You're just-,"

Before Mundy was allowed to finish her sentence, Sharma came running from the other side, as naked as she was the day she entered the world. Shyra quickly followed behind, also a little too underdressed for the occasion. Ilizabeth quickly diverted her attention to the water again. The awkward tension break made her scrub so fast she was sure some of her skin would come off in the process. But she didn't care. At this point, she was willing to jump out the tub still covered in soap.

Ilizabeth didn't bother looking back over at Mundy or Shyra or any of them. She stood from the tub, grabbing her fur cloth to wrap around her body before she even had both feet on the ground. The girl thought of how Mundy's sentence might have ended as she patted herself dry. What reason could she possibly have to be peaking on Ilizabeth as she bathed.

As Mundy too climbed out of the tub, Ilizabeth began to dress in the same clothes she arrived in. She had only received them last night, and they didn't smell anywhere near as badly as she did prior to. It took a little while to get the kids dressed. They were always moving and shouting and shoving. Ilizabeth was surprised Shyra hadn't formed any grey hairs from the stress yet.

Mundy and Ilizabeth stood awkwardly by the curtain, barely acknowledging each other as they waited for Shyra to finish dressingJoramun and herself. Just when they thought she was through with the baths, they watched as she prepared Sharma for the water. Mundy rolled her eyes at how long everything took when she went with her family. To Ilizabeth, it was clear Mundy loved her siblings, she just didn't always love the roadblocks that came with seven and five year olds.

Ilizabeth tugged on the damp cloth that was thrown over the sleeve of her coat while she waited. She found herself kneading the fur as a way of relieving tension.

"What were you going to say before?" She wondered.

"What are you going on about?" Mundy questioned, still keeping her head forward.

"In the tubs, you said 'I'm just,'," She paused, "I'm just what?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, you must've heard me wrong," She quickly dismissed the conversation by distracting herself with Joramun.

Mundy had her fingertips poking at Joramuns side before Ilizabeth could further press the situation. She was unsure of the back and forth energy she received from Mundy but knew to leave it alone for another few hours. If there was anything she was learning about the girl, it was that she always had more to say when she was given time to sit on it. She chased the boy around the room, almost slipping around every edge they took before Shyra was finally done. The little girl stood family before her mother, allowing for her to easily redress her in a few quick minutes.

Shyra held the children's hands as she led them out of the tent and back down the path to their section of the village. Which left Mundy and Ilizabeth alone in the back. Although she heaved through the thick snow with her gaze strictly remaining forward. Ilizabeth could tell something was on her mind by the way her face slightly contorted.

"Will you succeed your father when he goes?" Ilizabeth asked, obviously trying to distract her mind.

"What?" Mundy replied.

She wasn't supposed to use any big castle words when she was talking to anyone other than Jon.

"Sorry," She apologized, "When your father dies, do you become the leader of the Ice River clan?"

"It doesn't work like that here. Next leader has to earn it," She answered.

"Do you want to lead?"

"Everyone else is stupid," She remarked.

Ilizabeth smirked at the response. She figured the girl would say something along those lines.

"What about you, when your Queen dies?" Mundy returned.

"My brother Rickon will become King," Ilizabeth answered proudly.

"You don't want it?"

"Absolutely not." She laughed, "As lovely as it sounds, being the sister of a King is almost like being a Queen. Only I don't have to sit on boring meetings and hash out petty squabbles between the people. Plus, traditionally the eldest male heir takes the throne but my mothers spoke to me about it many years back. I told them I'd rather it be Rickon and when he didn't protest the idea, the decision sort of made itself,"

"Men are no better than women, though they seem to think so," Mundy rolled her eyes.

"I guess that's a thing everywhere," Ilizabeth laughed.

For the first time in a while, it seemed as if Mundy was actually enjoying Ilizabeths company. The blonde celebrated internally at the small victory.

"So what will you do then?" Mundy questioned.

"I plan to wed Ser Gabrin, a knight from my home, when I return,"

"I thought you called them lords?" She said confusingly.

"He's not a lord, he's a knight,"

"What's the difference?"

"A knight is someone who has earned the title Ser through combat. A knight can be a highborn, a lowborn, a bastard, almost anyone with enough fighting skill and another knight to knight them. A lord or a lady is in charge of a castle and the people in the nearby villages. Almost every lord is a knight, but most knights are just common people," She explained.

"Ain't you supposed to marry a lord then,"

Ilizabeth paused in slight shock. She was learning that Mundy may have actually enjoyed her company more than she let on. Despite all the push back the freefolk girl gave her, she was still attentive whenever Ilizabeth spoke.

"I'm surprised you were actually listening to me," Ilizabeth pestered.

"You talked the entire way, how could I not?"

Ilizabeth had put little thought into how her future with Gabrin would play out. Of course she wanted to have children of her own, and she was sure Gabrin could provide her with that, but he was far from being a high lord.

If she were to wed Gabrin, she'd be forced to live in some shabby home as he did not have a castle to inherit. She thought of remaining in Winterfell with her brother, but it would probably be too crowded with his future family. That was if he ever had one. She was still unsure about how all of that would work.

"Well, yes-,"

"Why don't you? I thought you liked living in a fancy castle,"

"Because I fell in love with him, I don't care whether he has a fancy castle or not," Ilizabeth argued somewhat unconvincingly.

Aunt Rilley poured to the front of her mind. A high born woman, who mostly gave up the life of being one. She did seem genuinely happy with the state of her family. But Ilizabeth was unsure of giving up the luxuries of being a high born woman.

She was stunned that the thought never even crossed her mind especially seeing as to how she spent many months with the handsome squire before leaving. Ilizabeth figured she must've been too eager to think of anything apart from finally getting to kiss another boy.

"You don't sound too sure of that,"

"I am," Ilizabeth replied sharply.

"No need to get snippy with me," Mundy threw her arms up in playful defense.

Just as they began to approach the subsection of the village they passed on the way to the baths, Ilizabeth remembered she was meant to meet with Raekul. She had gotten so distracted with the pleasures of having a clean body, that she'd completely forgotten that she was meant to be there by now. There was no point in heading back to Jon's now. She was only heading over there to kill time at first, but now the clock was behind her.

"Take this back with you please," She tossed her fur towel over Mundy's shoulder.

As Ilizabeth strayed from the trail, venturing toward the one that led to the cluster of larger huts she heard Mundy's shouting about how she wasn't another one of Ilizabeths servants. She could only laugh at the way Mundy grew overly irritated at the smallest things.

Her thickly wrapped feet left prints along with the dozens of others coming to and from the leaders homes. She stood in front of two identical huts, unsure of which housed Raekul. The girl was only able to rule out the third identical home as she just witnessed Shyra enter Loklecks. Just as she randomly decided upon entering the left hut, she caught a glimpse of the horns sprouting from someone's forehead.

"Wrong hut," She called.

Ilizabeth whipped her head to the right. She slightly jumped as she was startled by the sound of Raekuls dominating voice.

"We're not going in. Follow me,"

The woman began to lead Ilizabeth down the same path she came up. They crossed over the normal trail that ran through the village and began approaching the dying forests. Despite feeling slightly unsure of following a woman with such a terrifying appearance out into the woods, Ilizabeth remembered the importance of her task, and swallowed her worries. They walked until the light from the sun was divided by the leaves remaining on some of the trees. Some had turned completely black, and others seemingly still had poison working its way up to the very top.

Raekul guided them over to a fallen tree. She gestured for Ilizabeth to sit, while she remained on her feet with a blank expression.

"I really appreciate you teaching me how to do this," Ilizabeth spoke nervously as her knees remained tightly pressed together on the bench.

"It's a fair trade. I teach you, you help us," She shrugged.

"I like your . . . horns," Ilizabeth gestured to her own forehead.

Most of the whites of her eyes showed as she looked up. The woman pressed her hand up to her forehead, tracing her fingers of the smooth dullish point of the horn as if she'd forgotten they were there.

"You get them after surviving a thousand climbs,"

"Oh, that's impressive," Ilizabeth added.

"You poking fun at me?" She walked closer to Ilizabeth.

"No, no. I meant that sincerely," Ilizabeth's hands went up.

Raekul paused before letting out a slight laugh. "Mundy did you say you were a scary little bird,"

Ilizabeth visibly rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe Mundy had been encouraging others to scare her. Then again, she could. Now on top of having to deal with Mundy's constant jests, she'd have to deal with Raekuls too. As her faint chuckling died, the smile on her scared face remained.

"Listen, there ain't much I can say about skinchanging. I used to just close my eyes, and there I was," She said.

Ilizabeth slightly froze at the comment. Surely the woman hadn't dragged her all the way out here just to say that. She could count the number of times she'd simply shut her eyes and hoped to wake up in the dragon. And everytime she failed.

"I've tried that, it doesn't work," Ilizabeth returned.

"Don't think about it, just do it,"

The smile on Ily's face vanished as fast as it grew. She realized Raekul had little humorous intent in her instructions. Ilizabeth read the woman's encouraging look before engulfing herself in the darkness. She could occasionally see spotty glimpses of light as they flickered through the trees, but other than that, there was nothing. She listened as the winds whistled, flinched as blew flakes from the ground straight into her face. Ilizabeth was at peace, as she often was in the snow. But she remained herself, not an ever growing dragon flying over uncharted territory.

"You're still thinking, I can see it in your brows," Raekul said.

Ilizabeths eyes shot open in complete frustration. The girl didn't know how to get her mind to relax. Not normally, and especially not in a place where she didn't entirely feel comfortable. Although the freefolk were growing on her, she was still meeting so many people, and those venturing from Tormund and Jon's group had a slightly less humane look to them.

"I'm trying," She whined.

"Take your time princess, the freefolk can wait," she replied sarcastically.

That didn't help, And Ilizabeths face must've said just that. Just before she began to close her eyes and attempt it once more, Raekul's footsteps began approaching in an ascending volume. Ilizabeth's eyes shot open fearfully as she looked up at the woman standing over her. Raekul read Ilizabeths expression seriously, then she put a hand on her shoulder.

"Just . . . try to relax,"

Ilizabeth inhaled long and deeply. She allowed for the cold air to fill her lungs. It sent a chill down her warm body, giving her access to the same feeling she felt inside the dragon, only less intense. Then she let go of her breath, whilst simultaneously letting go of all of the worries and fears she carried in the Fangs. When her eyes opened this time, it was still sharp and sudden. All of the color disappeared, leaving just the whites of her eyes on the surface as her limp body fell back into the snow. 

Chapter Text

Brienne barely made a sound, only occasionally grunting as she effortlessly wielded her sword to the left. It slapped the back of Gabrin's armored tunic. The material was dark green and black, a lovely gift he received from his brother, Ser Galvin of the Queensguard in the hopes that he would be wearing it when he was finally knighted by the Lord Commander. Gabrin had been wearing it for the last few days, and still not luck. 

Gabrin and Brienne had been at it all morning. The bellowing thud of Brienne’s mighty sword striking the shield would have awoken the entire castle had they not already risen. He was meant to block ten of Brienne's blows in a row with his shield. But each time he arrived around the sixth, he’d lose his ability to predict where her next strike would come from. Forcing them to start over for the seventeenth time.

He threw his sword and shield down in complete frustration, causing his curls to fall over in his face. Brienne watched as he bawled up his fist and cursed whichever God he was addressing this time around. Normally she’d correct his outburst but instead, she approached the boy in support. She placed her right hand over his head, ruffling up his hair before bending over to pick up his sword.

"You've got to keep your shield up," She noted as she slipped the sword back into his hand, "Pick it up, and we'll do it again,"

Although Brienne would never admit it outloud, she had grown quite fond of her squire. Now that she was no longer distracted by his pining over Ilizabeth, she was able to see that he was a decent young man. One with ambition and a great deal of will power to reach it. They'd spent plenty of time both hailing their swords at one another and conversing as he learned to equip armor, ready horses, and quickly act on the commands given to him by their designated phrases. In just another few short weeks, the boy will have reached seventeen years of age and a full year of squireship. All he needed to do in order to win his knighthood was block ten of Brienne's swings with his shield in a row.

"I don't think I can do it," He declared. 

"You won't be able to do anything with that attitude," She responded, "Shield and sword up, let's go again,"

Gabrin obeyed the woman's command, slightly huffing as he bent over to pick up his shield. He slid his arm back into the slots, and held it over the left side of his body. She could see that the boy was in desperate need of a break as his eyes became spaced out and his stability swayed slightly. Instead of allowing him to lift his sword up, she dropped hers back by her side.

"Go and grab some water," She said before slipping her sword back into its sheath.

"Thank you," He sighed in relief, "Your Grace,"

Gabrin quickly dropped his sword and shield to the ground again. He lugged his tired body through the courtyard, and towards the kitchen. Just as Brienne went to grab a seat on one of the barrels she heard someone calling for her. The high pitched rattling of the knight's chainmail armor came from the North end of the castle, where Brienne was now facing. He walked at a quick pace, his arms swinging at his sides as he seemingly fought the urge to shout the words from across the courtyard.

Her mind completely skipped past Rickon and immediately went to Lady Greyjoy. Although she loved her son and would love nothing more than to have him back behind the castle walls, she hoped it would be an update on the whereabouts of their Master of Ships. No one heard a word from Yara, and after the small council noted that the journey should have taken just under eighteen days, when the sun rose this morning, on day thirty, worry grew over them like a dark cloud. It had been nearly an entire month since she was sent to White Harbor, and nine days since they sent one of their most trusted knights sleuthing through enemy territory to locate her. Still no one knew a thing. 

The man heaved himself and his heavy armor across the grounds, only stopping after he stood, exhaling obnoxiously loud breaths before the Queen. 

"Lord Commander, the prince has returned from Karhold," He panted upon arrival.

Brienne stared at the man before allowing a warm grin to spread across her lips. This was the longest she'd been without her son, and she didn't predict just how much she would end up missing his annoying little face. She dismissed the knight with a nod and made her way towards the North Gate with great haste. Brienne hoped the boy would return in good health along with the good news they so desperately needed. Just as she passed through the sectional corridor near the armory, she caught a glimpse of the flag waving on the carriage. She felt a great sense of relief in seeing their house sigil, now she just needed to see her son.

There were few people in the area as most of their visitors arrived from the east side of the castle. The Godswood, the glass garden, and the crypts were really the only things worth visiting on the north end. Brienne peeled around the corner, tossing her short hair over her eyes as she smiled and waved at those who stopped and bowed in her presence. 

She turned her attention forward again, now coming to a complete and sudden halt. Her eyes examined the sigil of the thousands of men pouring inside the gates, a burning white sun on a field of black. The ground vibrated through her boots and into the bones of her toes as the horses rode in. Then it was the foot soldiers who took their turn at Karholds grand entrance. 

The crowd of soldiers made it hard to see what was happening until finally, Lady Karstark appeared. Her reddish-brown hair bounced majestically in the breeze as she rode in on a pure white stallion. Her armored clothing was almost as tough as the expression she wore on her face. Brienne had never truly formed a relationship of her own with the Lady, but now that she was here, she was hoping to possibly change that. 

The Lord Commander stretched to her toes, searching for Rickon’s carriage again. She began to head towards the snarling wolf she spotted in the sea of silver, when suddenly a delicate arm locked in with hers. She turned to see her wife standing beside her in a lustrous dark fuschia gown that revealed just the right amount of cleavage. Her skin, hair, and crown sat flawless as usual. And everytime Brienne caught a glimpse of this up close and personal, she could hardly resist the urge to ignite the spark that came from pressing her lips to Sansa's.

"He did it," Sansa looked at the men proudly, "I think we failed to mention that he didn't need to bring the knights back at this very moment though,"

"That's quite alright, with Yara gone, we might have them sooner than we thought," Brienne sighed.

Neither woman wanted to think about heading into their first battle. But if Ser Krystane were to return without Lady Greyjoy or any information in regards to her whereabouts, they might need to reconsider the idea. For now they would focus on the return of their son, and thank Lady Karstark for reconsidering her decision in regards to the war.

Brienne guided them through the crowd, stopping just a few feet in front of the black wooden doors. While Lady Karstark continued to oversee her mens entrance to the castle, the pair waited to see their son. The door opened, revealing Ser Craig who greeted the Queens before keeping the door open for Rickon. Their loving eyes settled on his bright red curls, which had half pulled back and the rest hanging just beneath his shoulders. Sansa had the more motherly expectation of hoping Rickon would embrace her in a hug the moment he saw her. Whereas Brienne expected she would have to wait for hers until they were behind closed doors, somewhere where others could not see the ‘embarrassing’ affection he still held for his mothers at fifteen.

He shocked both women when he turned back to face the carriage, and stuck his hand out for another to grab. The Queens’ warm welcoming smiles, were now accompanied with slightly furrowed brows as they watched Rickon help Lady Helenys come down from the carriage. She held the skirt of her stone colored gown up with her left hand, and Rickons hand in her right as they approached the Queen with nervous grins.

"Mothers," He released the girl's hand, now wrapping his arms around Sansa.

Sansa quickly embraced the boy, squeezing him tight and caressing his head for several seconds too long. After pushing away from the woman, he smiled as he pecked her cheek softly. Then he turned to Brienne before wrapping his arms around her too. She forced a wider smile as she hugged the boy back. While her arms rubbed his back affectionately, her eyes continued to bounce between her wife and the girl confusiously. Rickon pulled away, flashing a cheesy grin as he rocked from side to side. 

"You remember, Lady Helenys right? Lady Karstarks daughter," He finally asked.

Despite visiting Karhold a few times in the past, Brienne didn't remember the girl at all. She'd been dragged to plenty of castles in the north, more than once, and it was difficult to remember which faces belonged to the daughter of one of the many lords or ladies. Still she would pretend like she would, out of respect for the girl and in looking out for herself. She knew her wife would never let her hear the end of not remembering Lady Karstarks daughter.

"Yes, it is lovely to see you again, my lady," Brienne lied as she bowed.

"It is an honor to be here, Your Grace," She curtsied with a smile, "I've never been to Winterfell before,"

"Well I do hope you enjoy your time here," Sansa added as she linked arms with her wife.

"Pardon me, but what are you doing here?" Brienne chimed in, looking between the two.

Rickon gave the girl a reassuring look before taking her hand into his once again. "Lady Helenys is my betrothed, I am to marry her once the war is through,"

Neither Brienne or Sansa said a word. The marching and the loud commands pouring fromLady Karstarks mouth continued but the shock from Rickons words blurred them all out. While Sansa did her best to remain pleasant with a stunned yet confused smile, Brienne’s expression said everything she wished to verbalize.Her mouth paused slightly gaping, as if someone had stopped her in the middle of a phrase.

Sansa chuckled nervously as she adjusted her stance involuntarily, "What do you mean, Rickon?"

"We should probably get our guests settled in first. Then we can talk, I have much to discuss with you," Rickon declared before turning away. "We'll be in the Godswood,"

The Queens stood frozen in disbelief as Rickon ventured further into the castle. They exchanged a quick glance at one another, wanting to be sure that they were equally surprised by Rickons announcement before casting it aside for a moment. Just as the Queens began approaching Lady Karstark, she dismounted her horse in a grunted thud. The woman adjusted her tunic before bowing before them.

"My Queens,"

Just as Sansa fixed her mouth to speak first, as she always did, Brienne interjected.

"Lady Karstark, it is a pleasure to see you here in Winterfell," Brienne spoke up first.

Her efforts to be more involved still surprised Sansa. No matter how small. Although it only took fifteen years of discussing it, she was glad to see her wife actively stand by her side and not as her sworn protector. 

"You flatter me, Your Grace,"

"I must thank you for agreeing to fight in the war. I know the circumstances are . . . grimly familiar," Sansa hesitated. “I don’t think there’s anything I can say to express just how grateful we are for your loyalty, Alys. Truly, I shall never forget this,"

"There's no need for any of that, Your Grace. Our family's history is exactly that. History. Your son came to Karhold to remind me of that,"

The Queens grinned proudly at the subtle compliment. When it came to political affairs, Rickon may have had little faith in himself but his mothers saw him for who he truly was. A kind and driven young man. Although he remained unaware of just how far that could take him, they were not.

"He also seems to have gone to find a wife," Brienne added sarcastically.

"Yes, do you happen to know anything about that?" Sansa asked.

"You mean, you didn't send him to ask for my daughter's hand in marriage?"

Brienne and Sansa exchanged another glance, one that confirmed that neither of them said anything about marriage in their preparation speeches with Rickon.

"You'll probably want to speak with him then," Lady Karstark chuckled. “And you can’t take it back either,”

Brienne looked past the Lady momentarily, now beginning to count the men by a slightly inaccurate grouping of one hundred. She knew her count was off, but she was sure she knew what ten thousand men looked like. And the amount she saw in front of her was not ten thousand.

"Where are the rest of the men?" Brienne wondered.

"Prince Rickon said to bring half . . ." Lady Karstark trailed off in confusion, "He said something about there being trouble?"

Neither woman said a thing.

"I assume you'll be wanting to speak with him now then," Lady Karstark added awkwardly. "Well my men are starving, shall I send them to the Great Hall then?"

Sansa immediately thought of kicking herself. In having no warning of her son returning with half of the second biggest army in the north, she also had no time to make preparations for food. It takes a lot to feed that many men, as well as those already residing in Winterfell and had she known, she would have ensured that the boy brought half at least a quarter of their crops to Winterfell too. She sighed as she was sure a raven would suffice, but during the time frames between Karhold receiving the raven, and the food actually getting to the castle, she would be left to figure it out on her own.

"Yes, yes, the Hall. . . should suffice," Sansa replied through gritted teeth.

Sansa turned, searching the castle grounds in a panic. Her eyes darted from building to building until it finally settled on a knight.

"You!" She shouted.

The man turned frantically as he was clearly startled by her booming volume. He trotted over, leaving his hefty prints in the dirt as his armor clanked with every bounce.

"Go to the kitchen and let them know we have nearly six thousand new men to feed. Tell them to use everything we've got. The simplest of recipes and nothing should go to waste. Let them know I am actively working on bringing more food to the kitchen and that I greatly appreciate everything they do," She informed him.

Sansa turned to face her wife once more. In just a few short minutes she had gone from excited to stressed. She began plucking at her fingertips anxiously, until Brienne placed her larger calloused hand on top of hers. 

"I shall instruct Maester Horden to send a raven to Karhold for some of their rations,"

"Thank you," Sansa sighed, still distracted with her thoughts.

"We're doing it together, remember?" Brienne cupped her wifes face.

Brienne gently guided her head upwards, bringing Sansa's eyes to hers. Her gaze lowered to her lips enticingly, then she lit the spark and brushed her lips against her wifes. 

"Now, let's go and find that boy of ours," 

Brienne held her arm out, waiting for her wife to relink them together. They watched and waved to the last of the Karstark men marching towards the eastern corridor. As soon as they had a clear pathway they began to make their way through the doors leading to the Godswood. They strolled through the forest, taking in the blissful birds chirping and the eerie chill breeze. Although they had yet to come across the sacred weirwood tree, the entire enclosure left its visitors with a powerful tingling feeling. As if the Gods themselves were riding their backsides, guiding them towards something good.

Their brief stroll came to a halt as they came across their son and the girl. She sat with her elbows in her lap, and her chin resting in her palms as she giggled at the show Rickon was putting on. They couldn't hear what he was saying, but they noticed the goofy look on his face, and the large hand gestures he made in front of the tree.

"I honestly thought he might've been . . ." Sansa didn't finish her sentence.

"So did I," Brienne said observingly.

"He does seem happy though, and so does she," Sansa tilted her head in amusement.

"Yes they do,"

Helenys' laughter idled as she noticed the women approaching her. She quickly stood up from the rock, dusting her gown off in a slight panic. Rickon came form in front of the tree, now assembling at her side to see what captivated her attention.

"Rickon, could you come here for a moment please?" Sansa called.

He uttered a few words to the girl before leaving her side. They crushed a few leaves and twigs as they moved further and further away from the forests. It had only been a month, and it seemed as if the boy had grown another inch.

"I think you might've grown taller than me now," Sansa smiled as she caressed his cheek, "Slow down will you?"

"Mother, please," Rickon whined. "I'm not going anywhere,"

"Alright, alright," She took her hand away, "So, tell us about your trip, and your . . . betrothed,"

"First I need to ask, have either of you heard from Lady Greyjoy?" He asked with a worried expression.

"No, she's been gone since you left," Brienne answered as she eyed her wife.

"I had a vision upon my arrival in Karhold. I saw Lady Greyjoy captured the moment they arrived on the shore. Ser Malson was killed, and so were the rest," Rickon proclaimed. 

Sansa looked at her son in utter disbelief. As much as she trusted Rickon, she wanted to hold onto the hope that his vision was inaccurate. That Lady Greyjoy was fine, and they would receive word of their alliance with White Harbor soon. But she knew that was not the case, and so did Brienne.

"I saw Lord Manderly's grandson Wellam at the shore, with another man from House Cerwyn. They were the ones in charge of the whole thing,"

"Wyman must be dead then," Sansa began to piece the puzzle together.

"What makes you think he didn't send his grandson to do his dirty work for him,"

"Wyman Manderly may not have wanted to fight in the war, but he never would've allowed his men to shed the blood of peaceful negotiators," She insisted.

Brienne didn't know Wyman well, but  she trusted that her wife did. If Sansa truly believed that he was not responsible for what happened, then so did she. She began to recall the time she met Wyman's grandson, he wasn't the most pleasant man in all of Westeros, but Brienne didn't think anything of it back then. She never even gave him enough thought to anticipate something like this. As much as she hated saying it, Yara being captured did not come as a surprise to her. The moment they began to ponder over whether the woman made it to the shore or not, Brienne knew something was off. She just wanted to hold out hope, for the council's sake.

"The Cerwyn soldier said, 'I'm glad we could come to an agreement, Lord Manderly'," Rickon added.

Anger bubbled in the pits of Sansa's stomach, but she did her best to suppress it. The Queens knew that they'd be pulled into a small council meeting the second they left Rickon. Now that they knew what happened to Yara and her fleet, they’d have to devise a plan on bringing her back from White Harbor, if she was still there.

"After I had the vision, I made sure I did everything I could to acquire Lady Karstarks men. I brought half back just in case there was any more trouble with Yara," He added proudly.

"Hence Lady Helenys? Brienne inquired.

"Yes, Helenys was a part of the deal, but she's actually quite nice," Rickon grinned as he looked back over at the girl, "She seemed unhappy in Karhold and I thought it was time I take on some of my responsibility as heir to the throne,"

"Rickon, I'm glad to see you are becoming more responsible but marriage is a serious commitment, how can you be sure she is the one for you?"

Rickon looked over to the girl once more. He watched amusingly as she leaned over the small pond, slapping her hand against the water to create ripples in her reflection.

During the first four days of their journey, the girl hardly spoke to Rickon. She was too dumbfounded by the idea of heading to Winterfell as the prince's new betrothed, especially without her permission. On the fifth day, after Rickons relentless pushing she finally gave in and expressed her issues about the process. After finally comprehending how her father's aim to marry her off made her feel like she had little say in her own life, and how spontaneous Rickon's proposal only worsened that notion, he apologized sincerely. And promised he would do his best to better understand the disadvantages of being a woman in this world.

They spent days six, seven, eight, and nine getting to know one another. He learned that her favorite color is yellow, and she loves birdwatching. She enjoys singing, and listening to stories, but hates reading because sometimes the letters appear incorrectly as she can't comprehend what's actually written on the page. She was born in the summer, which is also her favorite season because she gets cold easily. And if she could choose anything to be her last meal on earth, she would eat Lamprey pie as she has only had it once in her life, and claimed it was the most delightful thing in the realm.

On days eleven, twelve and thirteen, they began to grow more affectionate towards one another. When they left the carriage for breaks, he was sure to hold her hand and accompany her on toilet breaks for protection. When they were riding at night, he'd wrap his arm around her for warmth and retell whatever story he could remember well enough. If he ever forgot how something went, he'd make up something silly, just to hear her laugh. 

On the fourteenth night their lips came within a few inches of each other. It would have been perfect. The stars twinkled brightly as it provided the dark purple sky with a radiant gleam. The moon lit the forest and roads up with its dusky magical glow. The winds whistled just the right tune, singing a song that filled them both with the exciting joys of a blossoming young love. And the carriage had finally stopped rocking. He would've gone through with it, but Ser Craig startled them both when he jumped out from his sleep in complete panic.

They spent the final two days discussing what they would say to the Queens. Lady Helenys became a bit of a nervous wreck. She rambled on and on about how she thought they wouldn't like her, or how they might think she was too ugly or too irrelevant to be with the Prince of Winterfell. He reassured her that his mothers were not those kinds of people and that she would come to see it for herself in due time. Although he expected them to have something to say, he knew he did the right thing, and soon, they would too.

"Because the Old Gods wouldn't have led me to her if she wasn't the one," 

Neither women expected their son to respond in such a manner. 

"I also promised Lady Karstark something, something that we all have to uphold," He added.

Their nerves began to rebuild as they waited for Rickon to continue. He wasn't meant to swear anything on their behalf, then again, he wasn't meant to do most of what he'd done. Still they were grateful for the effectiveness of his impulsivity. They just hoped it wouldn't cost them anything too large.

"I swore that no rule that goes by the name of Stark shall ever behead a high lord without having them stand trial first,"

"Rickon!" Brienne whisper-yelled.

"It had to be done," He remained confident in his decision.

"Rickon, that is a very serious thing to promise," Sansa added.

"And beheading great lords is a serious thing. I don't disagree with all of your decisions, mother. But things became very messy at Castle Cerwyn. I needed to assure Lady Karstark that you were still sane, and somewhat remorseful,"

"You will watch your tongue when you're speaking to your mother," Brienne commanded.

"He's right my love," Sansa interjected, "We needed the Karstarks and if that is what needed to happen, then it is fine. Besides, I think it is a good idea. One that will keep the peace and show the other houses that the Starks value each and every one of them,"

Brienne huffed. She didn't like Rickon reminding her of what happened at Castle Cerwyn. Brienne had been by Sansa's side the entire time, and she was able to get through to her. To remind her that her emotions were valid but some of her actions were not. She didn't want her wife feeling worse than she already did. The situation was in the past and time only moves forward.

But she may have overlooked how it affected the rest of the realm. Although they weren't the ones who lost their lord, in hearing about how she traveled to Castle Cerwyn to behead those who spoke ill about her, Brienne imagined they were afraid. And somewhat unsure of whether she was the one they should be following. Rickon's promise would ensure them that she not only reflected on the events, but physically acted on them, and created something just and promising to all.

"You did well, and I presume you are happy," Sansa looked over his shoulder, now viewing Helenys.

"I am," He replied.

"Good," She nodded, "Well your mother and I should meet with the small council but once the kitchen it back in order, we shall all have a proper dinner together,"

"The kitchen?"

"We have to find a way to feed the six thousand men you spontaneously decided to bring to Winterfell," Brienne added.

"I didn't think about that," He chuckled nervously.

"It's alright, you did well," Brienne grabbed his head and kissed it, "I'm proud of you, Rickon,"

The Queens watched Rickon return to the girl with a radiating grin. He immediately resumed his rambling and gestures while she listened attentively. Neither of them had ever seen him interact with anyone in this manner, but something about the way he cared for the girl suggested it may have been a suitable match.

"I think he may actually like her," Sansa said in disbelief.

The pair used the east exit of the Godswood to get to the Library Tower. Everything was connected in Winterfell, and there were almost always multiple ways to exit an area. They made sure to greet the Kennel Master, Efran Lydden, as he passed by, barely able to keep his footing while the hounds tirelessly charged forward. Just as they approached the stairwell, they paused in front of Maester Horden. His nimble fingers shook as he held the sealed scroll in his right hand.

"This just arrived, my Queens," He bowed as he handed Sansa the scroll.

She turned it over, placing the battle axe sigil up into the light. Sansa subconsciously held her breath as she made eye contact with Brienne. She did not fear the Cerwyns. But she did fear what they might do to Yara. Sansa never knew the Cerwyns were malicious people. But her father underestimated the Lannisters, and her brother underestimated the Boltons, and she would underestimate no one. Sansa dragged both her wife and Maester Horden up the stairs in a hurry. Brienne held the door to the tower open, waiting for her wife to free up the room before following closely behind them

Once everyone was gone, Sansa pressed her thumb against the seal, splitting it right down the middle. It crinkled as she unrolled the thin sheet in her hands. Her eyes quickly scanned the paper, absorbing some of its contents before she began to read it out loud.

"White Harbor is ours, and so is Lady Greyjoy. I urge you to come and see. Rickard Cerwyn,"

Chapter Text

The dragon flapped its large wings over the hickory trees. A singular whoosh tossed the snow from off the leaves and into the air. The flakes fell delicately, giving the Land a calm glacial aroma that was beyond breathtaking. Everything was white, and enchanted. Not a creature in sight. Granted, the dragon didn't fly low enough to spot them anyways.

Thanks to Ilizabeths control, there was a set destination on its mind and nothing would distract it from that. The intensely high winds brushed against its hard scales as it broke through the misty clouds. The dragon cut through wind like a freshly sharpened blade broke through flesh. Apart of Ilizabeth was still amazed something this magnificent existed, and that she was learning how to control it.

The horse sized beast seemed to only do more growing ever since it left the cave. Its wings grew longer, talons grew sharper, and appetite grew hungrier. Occasionally Ilizabeth would feel herself losing control whenever they would spot a roaming animal that looked appetizing to the dragon. But today they were focused, they were going to get to the Frozen Shore no matter what.

Ilizabeth wasn't one hundred percent sure of where she was going, but she knew if she flew south she'd eventually stumble upon it. The dragon dove below the clouds, now falling closer to land to get a better view. There were still miles and miles of land ahead of her, every frosted tree she passed heightened her urge to turn around and give up. But after taking a moment to focus on the dragon's keen sense of smell, the growing stench of salt gave her hope and a better sense of their proximity. She curved back up, now trying to return back above the clouds when she suddenly began to feel heavy. Ilizabeth recognized the feeling and tried to shake it, but the moment her eyes were blinded by the bright ball of light she was pulled back into reality.

The beautiful stainless silver hue of Ilizabeths iris was returned to the front of her head, along with her pupils, and a bit of shock. She laid flat on her back with her arms slightly sprawled out to the side, as she hopelessly stared up at the intense light coming from the sun. Her frustration festered, growing loud enough to tune out Raekul, who was clearly worried as she repeatedly called the girl's name. She could only hear the voices in her head, reminding her that she had failed to get to the Frozen Shore once again.

Despite it not necessarily being the main focus of their lessons, Ilizabeth desperately tried to fly over the shore. She was an overachiever, and nothing would make her feel more accomplished than finding viable land as she learned to control the dragon. Raekul let out a sigh before throwing her hands to her knees to stand. She hovered over Ilizabeth, sending a chill down the girl's spine as she blocked the sun from beaming down on her.

"You went too far again didn't you," Raekul extended her hand out to Ilizabeth.

"Possibly," She responded as she took it.

The woman grunted as she tugged on it roughly. Ilizabeth shot forward,into the air before she landed on both feet in a slight stumble. No matter how she positioned herself before warging, she somehow ended up laying in the snow. There were always cold clumps of flakes that wound up sticking to the backside of her fur. If they remained there for too long, the frost would seep into her clothing and freeze her from the inside out. So, she turned, allowing for Raekul to brush some of them off before facing her once more. Her eyes met with Raekul, they were a rich inky shade of green, and stared back at Ilizabeth seriously.

"I've told you a hundred times. The more space you put 'tween you and that dragon, the harder it is to control," Raekul reiterated, "You're still learning,"

"I know, I know. Sorry," Ilizabeth apologized.

Raekul had reminded her of this the last two times she successfully warged on command. She knew there wasn't much she could say. Nothing would get through Ily's thick skull. Instead of pushing the situation any further she grabbed their packs, handed Ilizabeths hers, and began making their way back towards the village.

Ilizabeth followed behind, her mind racing in response to Raekuls silence. Her chest began to tingle at the thought of Raekul being frustrated or disappointed in her.

"I was really close today though!" She added.

"Member how you felt back in Winterfell? You're going to put too much strain on yaself,"

Ilizabeth wished she never shared that bit of information but Raekul asked to know everything about what she'd already accomplished with the dragon. She told the woman about her early changes, how it struck her like a dizzy spell, how heavy she felt when she returned to her own body. Raekul had mentioned something about her early days with skin changing, and how sometimes her wolf would roam really far and she'd lose control. She claimed to feel as awful as Ilizabeth did, so she tried to stay close by whenever she took control. That was when the dreadful aftermath feeling stopped, and she could remain inside the wolf for as long as it was humanly safe.

"I could literally smell the salt," She insisted.

"Ilizabeth, are you hearing me? It's too risky, wait until you're a bit better at controlling it," She paused, now turning to face Ilizabeth.

Ily analyzed her expression. The wrinkles that formed between Raekul's furrowed brows told her everything she needed to know.

"Alright, I hear you," Ilizabeth sighed in defeat.

The young blonde kept her head down, now kicking up snow as she walked in silent frustration. Raekul knew the girl was only trying to help. She was more than appreciative of the Ilizabeth's willingness to assist people she didn't know or owe anything to. But she didn't want to be held responsible for any misfortunes happening, and switching your consciousness into other beings can get complex quite fast.

"You've done well," Raekul wrapped her arm around the girl's shoulder. "You've changed over five times in just two moon cycles,"

"If I take any longer we won't have enough food to make it to the shore," Ilizabeth expressed in annoyance, "I was almost there, I know it,"

Raekul released the girl, giving her a supportive grin before returning to her place at the head of their two person line. Ilizabeth lagged behind, her mind idled as she looked out at the other members making their way through their community. A bubbling roared from her stomach, crawling to the back of her tongue as she continued. She had barely eaten anything yesterday, and today had started out no different. Of course, Jon always brought something back for the girl, but she'd end up giving it to those she deemed in worse condition than herself instead.

The snow crunched under her heavily wrapped boots. As she continued her gaze over the village, her footsteps slowed spaciously Her frustration was quickly replaced with a growing smile as she spotted the young group of Hornfoots she had grown somewhat closer to over the past month.

Ilizabeth trained with Raekul most days out of the week, and in finding herself on their side of the village so often, she also managed to come across others to befriend.

Arlie was the first person she'd met. Apart from Mundy, of course. The word about Ilizabeths talents and intentions began to spread like wildfire, and Arlie was one of the only people who did more than gawk at her whenever she passed by. Instead, she took an interest in getting to know her before inviting her to come and meet some of the others who were closer to their age.

Her raven hair stopped before her shoulders and was always frizzy, as if she'd just risen from a terrible slumber in her hut. Many of the young Hornfoots were orphaned after the battle against the dead, and she and her friends were no different.

Arlie resided in an average size hut with two of her friends, Hariette and Bior. They all had under four years of age when their parents died, and hardly knew a life apart from relying on each other as their chosen family. But that wasn't irregular for the freefolk, even before the Long Night.

"Are you coming for supper this evening?" Ily wondered.

"Your uncle's the worst cook I know," She sneered.

"And yet somehow that never seems to stop you from coming around," Ilizabeth teased.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ily," Raekul shoved the girl lightly.

Ilizabeth giggled as she waved goodbye to Raekul. The woman rolled her eyes with a widely sheepish grin before spinning on her heels and heading in the opposite direction as the blonde.

She'd done her fair share of badgering and had come to the conclusion that there was something intense brewing between her brooding uncle and the snarky leader of the Hornfoots. Ilizabeth had spoken with Jon, inquiring about the few loves Jon had in his life.

When the man first arrived at Winterfell, she didn't feel a need to wonder why he hadn't taken a wife yet. He appeared to be stubborn, overly assertive, and maybe even a little bit of a drunk. But it didn't take long for the girl to understand the true nature of her uncle. People often did strange things to compensate for feeling like a fish out of water, and that's exactly what being back in Winterfell made him feel. Plus, his mission of extracting the princess from her home only served to make things more complicated.

She had truly come to know her uncle more in the past three months than she did in the year he'd spent back in Winterfell. In finally getting to see just how deeply he cared for his people, she began to wonder why he never found anyone here.

Jon was completely dismissive when she inquired about it. He insisted that he was fine, that he "wasn't a boy anymore," and that he "didn't need the company of women". Of course, this was only after Ilizabeth had walked in on the two sharing what appeared to be an incredibly intimate moment after having a little too much ale.

Ilizabeth decided she would leave it alone, for now. She tightened her hood by its thin leather strings before rushing off to join the group heading towards her side of the village. None of them had horns sprouting from their foreheads which made befriending them slightly easier, but they all had dark hair and held physiques that suggested they'd missed out on a few meals recently. As lively as the group was, Ilizabeth couldn't help but feel awful whenever she caught their stomach growls.

She called out to the group, making all three cease their travels immediately. Ilizabeth hastened her pace as she carefully brushed by the elders on the path. She slivered through them, one by one on her toes until she stood directly in front of the group.

Ilizabeth curiously examined each face as they stood staring back at her in silence. It was almost as if they didn't know her. Just when she began to wonder what she'd done wrong, Bior's round almond colored eyes crinkled shut as a wide grin took over his expression.

"Princess," They all bowed before bursting out into laughter.

Ilizabeth rolled her eyes at their stupid remark. During the midst of her teachings about formalities south of the wall, they were too caught up on the bowing, and curtseying to continue. She shook her head, chuckling lightly as her frustration from early vanished.

"I can't believe they have to do that everytime they see you," Bior chuckled.

"Am I not worthy of such formalities?" Ilizabeth hinted at her offense.

"You are, princess," Hariette laughed before wrapping her arm around Ily's shoulder.

Hariette was older than Ily by two years, and Bior and Arlie, three. She stood just over an inch or two above Ilizabeth which always left her shoulder aching when it lingered around Ily for too long. She often wore her raven colored hair pulled back, with two braids on the sides of her head. It made her look like a warrior, especially when she had her preferred choice of weapon. Two battle axes'.

She pulled the blonde right beside her, formulating a line with; Arlie, Hariette, Ilizabeth, and Bior from left to right. Ilizabeth quickly grew tired of the back and forth between herself and Mundy. One minute they were in the midst of a passive aggressive conversation and the next they were sharing an intimate moment she hoped would advance their friendship. But, those moments only seemed to drive the wild ginger further away. She decided she would stop trying to force their alliance and instead comb through the thousands of other people here to talk to. She must've met the trio just a few days after.

The young Hornfoots may have jested but they didn't resemble Mundy's. She knew they didn't actually believe the things they were saying, whereas with Mundy, she often found herself unsure of the girl's underlying meaning. They managed to preserve her feelings, and didn't become too enraged whenever Ilizabeth threw a joke right back at them. They were nothing like her friends back in Winterfell. They were loud, unsophisticated, sloppy, and unapologetically themselves. And Ilizabeth loved it.

She never realized how dull the highborn life could be until she accompanied them on a trip a few miles from camp where they played a game of 'Finders' and the loser had to strip completely naked and roll in the snow. She never imagined enjoying such barbaric behavior, but she'd never forget the fit of laughter she was sent into when they all saw Bior's bright red butt cheeks after he rose from the snow.

Although the girl met Arlie first, she naturally grew close with Hariette as she always found herself right by the girl's side. Which was really Hariette's doing. From the moment she laid eyes on the young beautiful Princess Ilizabeth she began to fester a crush. She paid extra close attention to Ily whenever she spoke, and often threw subtle compliments at her. She volunteered to accompany Ilizabeth wherever she went, just so she "wouldn't get lost".

Of course the blonde remained oblivious to all of her antics. She didn't see anything out of the ordinary in the behaviors, especially because she did the same things with Nera back home. But Bior and Arlie were completely aware of her intentions whenever the two would venture off, or when she wrapped her arm around her shoulder like she did now.

"Thank you," Ilizabeth laughed proudly, "Where are you all heading off to?"

"We're meeting up with Vhar and the rest to go hunting," Arlie gestured to the large spear in her hand, "Wanna come?"

"I'll have to ask my uncle, first,"

"You don't need his permission to do everything ya' know? Bior chimed in.

"My mothers' would disagree," She chuckled.

"Good thing they're not here then,"

"Leave her alone," Hariette interjected before giving Ilizabeth with a smirk, "I'll go with you to ask Jon, he likes me,"

"You think everyone likes you," Arlie added.

"That's because they do," She laughed, "Don't they, Ily?"

"Yes, you are quite likable,"

Ilizabeth snickered at their playful banter. The second she looked away, Hariette shot a thumbs up and raised her brows at her other two friends. She received eye rolls in response, but continued to walk with her arm around Ilizabeth.

The cluster of crunching snow became sporadic as they were only a few feet away from Jon's hut. Ilizabeth often found herself admiring the lands In one quick gaze from left to right, she'd observe the underlying beauty of the rotting wood, the miles of pure white bliss, and a grimacing Mundy. The ginger sat on a rock outside one of the huts directly across from their unit as she sharpened her ax with a rock.

Despite redirecting her attention to the weapon, Ilizabeth noticed her. Mundy fought the urge to look, but inevitably succumbed to the temptation as she took many glances from the corner of her eye. And everytime she looked up, her eyes fell back on the same two people. Ilizabeth and Hariette. It was clear something was bothering her and judging by the way Mundy bitterly watched the pair, Ilizabeth figured she must've been angry with their blooming friendship.

Ilizabeth planned on ignoring the girl's jealousy. The group would walk right past her and Ilizabeth wouldn't bat an eye. Of course, the plan would never actually play out like that. She didn't have a bone in her body that was mean enough. Before the group was given a chance to pass Mundy, the girl suddenly rose to her feet.

She began to approach the group with her face slightly twisted and her arms at her sides. Step by step the crunching sounded lightly until she stood in front of all four pairs of eyes. The group stopped in their tracks, now standing silent and unnervingly as they waited for someone to say something.

"Can I help you?" Ilizabeth asked.

Mundy's mouth fell open slightly, but nothing came out. She quickly closed her mouth, now directing her eyes elsewhere. Ilizabeth had never known the girl to struggle with words. In fact she was quite the opposite. Mundy naturally radiated a confident energy, she always said what was on her mind, and even had some sly wits about her. But now she stood small in front of the group like a stunned rabbit.

"Jon sent me looking for you," She blurted, "It's our turn to go and get more water so . . . hurry and get your things,"

"He didn't say any-"

"Where do you get off telling her what to do?" Hariette interjected.

Ilizabeth had hardly even noticed Mundy's command. As much as she didn't originally love the nature of their relationship, she had grown somewhat used to speaking to each other in this manner. It was meant to be playful. Ilizabeth and Mundy drew their eyebrows together in a confucius surprise. She placed her hand on the girl's back before gently intervening.

"It's alright, Hariette,"

"Yeah, go about your own business," Mundy added.

Ilizabeth cringed at the words, and even harder at the tone she used. She hadn't witnessed many of Hariette's daily confrontations, but she'd seen one and it became very ugly rather quickly.

"Mundy, please," Ilizabeth pleaded.

Hariette removed her arm from around Ilizabeth, making her heart stop in fear of what would happen next. She took a few slow steps forward. Although the chatter around the village filled the air just as the cold did, her pace isolated them. As if they were the only ones in the vicinity for miles.

"I could snap you in half," Hariette threatened.

"I've taken shits bigger than you," Mundy responded as she dangerously closed the small gap between them.

Ilizabeth looked to Bior and Arlie who watched intensely with wide eyes and bright smiles. Once she realized she would get no help from them, she rushed to wedge herself in between the two before giving them both a good hard shove backwards.

"Stop this petty fighting!" She hollered. "Just . . . wait here, and don't kill each other while I'm gone,"

Ilizabeth sternly eyed both women before storming down the rest of the path. She turned down the subpath leading to Jon's hut just as she did everyday, only now her heavy mind was slowing her down. She approached the hut with Mundy in mind. Everything about the redhead's behavior confused her. No matter how hard she thought, she couldn't begin to understand why someone would act as if they didn't want to be her friend only to later appear jealous when she made different ones.

Just as Ilizabeth reached out for the curtain, a blurry ball of mixed colored fur came dashing from the hut, nearly trampling her before making a beeline for the woods. Ilizabeth barely flinched as the wolf had made a habit of acting on its random bursts of energy. He may have been large, but he was still a pup and they have a tendency to have less discipline.

Her stomach growled as the sweet smell of cooking meat poured from the hut. She held the curtain up with her arm as she entered the home taking in short and sharp whiffs of the enticing scent. It didn't take her long to spot Jon, as the hut was only but so many feet wide. He sat over the fire, watching and occasionally rotating the skinned rabbit as it cooked. The man sat up, now acknowledging Ilizabeth's presence with a sweet grin.

"How was this mornings' lesson?" He asked.

Ilizabeth huffed as she ripped her gloves from her hands.

"I assume that means bad,"

"I went too far again," She mumbled.

Just when she thought he might not have heard her and was fixing to change the subject he responded, "And what did Rae have to say about that?"

"Rae? I didn't know you two were that close," Ilizabeth teased.

"It's not like that," He dismissed the idea humbly.

"Uncle Jon, you are seriously no fun at all,"

"Why are you avoiding the conversation? Did something happen?" He redirected while spinning the rabbit.

Ilizabeth let out a loud sigh before moving further into the hut. The smell practically drew her into the fire as she took a seat directly across from Jon. She relaxed her stiff posture, naturally slouching on the backless log as she watched the flames burn the meat. The girl had grown quite comfortable here, now almost seeing it as more of a second home than just her Uncle Jon's shabby-looking hut.

"Nothing happened. I just want to do more, I want to help," She answered in frustration.

"You're helping just by being here, Ily,"

"It doesn't feel like enough,"

The dull bottoms of his boots scuffed against the floor as he rose from his seat across the fire. Jon groaned, hobbling from side to side in every step. He'd spent the day lugging seven foot logs across the village with a few of the other leaders to ensure the people had a way of staying warm. Ilizabeth had never done it herself, and judging by the look of her uncle, she never wanted to.

Jon gave the girl a sincere look before plopping down beside her. His hand pressed against her silk blonde hair as he grabbed her head and kissed her forehead.

"Warging isn't a simple task. You're doing well and soon you'll be able to help us find food that isn't rotting over. I think that's plenty,"

"Is that why you're sending me to get more water with Mundy?" Ilizabeth replied jokingly.

"What?"

Ilizabeth peeled her absent gaze from the whipping flames, now looking at her uncle. His face almost always read worn, and the untamed beard sprouting from his face only made it worse. But currently the man sat with his brows furrowed together in confusion.

"Mundy said you needed me to go with her . . ." She trailed off, "To get more . . . that liar!"

His eyes remained glued to the girl as she sprung up from her seat. She harshly uttered words under her breath, now running her hands through her silk hair in complete frustration.

"I don't think I've ever met anyone more confusing in my life," Ilizabeth ranted, "First, she insists on only communicating with me through insults and jokes. Then the next minute she's complimenting me, and now she's lying?"

Jon allowed the girl's thoughts to fester, hoping that she would arrive at the conclusion he came to many weeks back. He'd known Mundy since the day she was born, and she's never glanced at a boy with interest once. Jon never really cared too much about things like that. Although he wasn't necessarily raised to view it as normal. Relationships like Sansas' were common here, and he grew to learn that their love was no different than anyone else's rather quickly. Jon had only known his niece for a little over a year, and although he was sure the girl only fancied boys, he felt both Mundy and Ilizabeth were mature enough to handle the situation on their own.

"Maybe you should go," He urged her.

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Because, she's your friend," He replied.

"Mundy is hardly a friend,"

"She conjured up a lie just to spend more time with you. In my opinion, that sounds like she wants to be friends," He shrugged.

"I don't think I want to spend four days alone with Mundy Giantsbane," Ilizabeth rolled her eyes.

"Well the choice is yours, but I think you should go. Maybe she has something important to say,"

Ilizabeth's pacing came to a halt. She gave her uncle a stare, one that suggested exactly what she was thinking. That she hated when her family gave her helpful suggestions, ones she knew she'd be better off taking.

"Alright," Ilizabeth sighed,

Instead of returning to her seat, she ventured further into the hut. Her chest, traveling pack and sword were tucked in a corner near the bed. She grabbed the leather strap of the bag and slung it over her shoulder before assembling her weapon belt next. With just a few buckles, the loop was tightly secured just above her hips.

"We sent Nahron and Karny almost four days ago, if you don't run into them on your way just try to keep an eye out. I'm unsure of how they managed to be paired together, I've never met anyone more directionally challenged," Jon said.

Ilizabeth gave her uncle a nod, then she threw herself in his arms. His scruffy beard brushed against her forehead as he rubbed her back gently.

"Be safe please,"

"I will. See you soon, uncle!"

Ilizabeth pulled back the curtain, allowing her pupils a second to readjust to the burning sunlight he'd removed herself from. She gazed over the village, searching for Winter in the hopes that he would accompany her on their journey. Just when she decided she was too lazy to look for the energetic pup, she spotted him with her group of friends. Ilizabeth ambled down the path, kicking up snow until she returned to the group. She didn't speak, nor did she look at Mundy, or Arlie, or anyone else. She grabbed Hariette by her arm and gently pulled her away from the group.

Hariette would be lying if she said her heart didn't skip a beat. She was unsure if it was the physical contact, or the fact that she chose her of all people to pull away, but she knew the further they grew from the group the more it intensified.

"I don't want to upset you, but I'm going to go with Mundy,"

Her glass heart shattered. The high pitch resonance of it echoed loudly, making her tune out every other word the girl said.

"Hariette?"

"Why would you want to go with her?" She asked.

"Because . . . Jon asked me to," She answered.

Ilizabeth didn't like lying, not to anyone. She tried to tell herself that this wasn't technically a lie. Although Mundy orchestrated the idea herself, Jon encouraged her to go. But she knew it wasn't the full truth, and she didn't believe in inbetweeners.

"I appreciate you sticking up for me though, you're a really good friend Har,"

Ilizabeth wrapped her arms around her, giving her the most platonic hug she'd ever had. The second Ilizabeth's touch left her body, she began to wave her friends over, hoping to put some distance between her and Ilizabeth before going on a tangent about how much she hated Mundy Giantsbane.

Ilizabeth apologized to Arlie and Bior, reminding them that they'd have plenty of other opportunities to enjoy each other's company. She returned to Mundy's side, now stroking the top of Winter's furs as she watched her friends venture further down the past. A part of her wanted to shout that she changed her mind, that she had no interest in spending anymore time with Mundy, but something forbade her mind from blurting things she didn't entirely feel.

"I'm ready when you are," Ilizabeth said. 

Chapter Text

Winter galloped many feet ahead of Ilizabeth and Mundy. They often lost sight of him throughout the travels, sometimes for several minutes at a time. Whether it was because of the impending darkness growing in the mosaic of oranges, purples, and blue, or because of the copious amount of energy he had charging him forward. He left paw prints in the snow, leaving a trail of his whereabouts behind for them to follow. The pair approached the start of their second night's journey, placing them within a two mile radius on the nearest viable river.

The walk wasn't nearly as strenuous as Ilizabeth imagined it would be. Sure the harsh current of air would blow the flakes up from the ground and into her face occasionally. And yes, the decaying moss, soil, and trees curated a foul earthy odor, one that reminded her of urine and dirt. But those were the least of her worries. She feared that her legs would give out from having to hike up mountains that were as tall as the sky. Or even as she marched through the thick piles of white that would naturally slow their pace. 

To her surprise, the snow had been more than manageable. They’d been heaving their legs through it since the sun rose, and Ilizabeth’s body hardly tired. There were few changes to the terrain as well. They followed a path for most of the journey, one that avoided the large mountains but instead sent them down plains, and occasionally small mountains and plateaus. 

Their trip had been astonishingly simple. Some would even use the word, pleasant. They'd spent more than twenty four hours alone together, and they weren't bickering about the 'real north', or how eating with forks and spoons was pointless. Instead they shared stories. Bouncing from their favorite childhood moments, to the craziest thing they'd ever done. 

Mundy told elaborate stories. Ones that involved her hollering at the top of lungs, and waving her arms around as she wafted her oniony underarm scent into the cool winds. The grandness of Mundy's stories made Ilizabeth feel small and boring. A feeling the princess was completely unfamiliar with. Mundy had listed a few different events, labeling them all as her craziest moment ever. Including the time where she claims to have climbed a tree and caught a bird with her bare hands.

But Mundy didn't think Ilizabeths stories were boring at all. As they traveled through the frosty evening air, each carrying their side of the water drum by the handle, she insisted Ilizabeth tell her everything about her mothers, and brother. She was fascinated by the nature of her family existing south of the wall. 

"So your mother Sansa is Jon's little sister, and your other mother is . . . ? " Mundy trailed off.

"Her name is Brienne, she's actually a southerner," Ilizabeth emphasized the word with a giggle. "She's from an island called Tarth,"

"How far south?" Her tone spiking at the end with curiosity. 

"It's practically on the other end of the country and it's so hot that it never snows there," Ilizabeth went on. 

"Never?" Mundy repeated with wide eyes.

"No,"

"Weird,"

"She's always liked the north though even though she pretends not to," Ily playfully rolled her eyes, "I halfway think she was destined to be a Stark,"

"She’s a Stark too?"

"Not in the manner in which they are related," She explained in a chuckle, "I just meant that she took my mother Sansa's name when they married,"

"I thought your people shunned those sort of relationships?" Mundy inquired.

The frizzy haired ginger’s questioning sent Ilizabeth reverting into her own mind. She'd heard her fair share of the songs and jests the people made in regards to her mothers relationship. But she never could have predicted that anyone would want to bring physical harm to her family. She knew it was naive to think that way. Perhaps the royal princess' life was lived through a lens that blurred out all the hate, inequality, and injustice. 

Ilizabeth remained completely unaware of what was going on back home, but seeing as to how her Uncle Bran mentioned a rebellion, and Lord Cerwyn and his son were dead, she imagined things may not have been going smoothly.

"A great deal of the north learned that my mothers love was no different than theirs. But some . . . they still refuse to see it,"Her tone dropped as she answered.

"What happens to them?"

"I'm unsure. . . things became complicated when I left,"

A gust of wind interrupted their conversation. It hit them so hard, it sent them stumbling a few inches back. Both girls grabbed the furs of their coats with their free hand. Tugging it closed on the other side for protection. 

"I have to ask, how did your mothers make babies?" Mundy asked fearlessly, “Does one of them have a dick?”

Ilizabeth cringed in hearing the word. She couldn’t recall hearing the word come up in any previous conversations she had. Then again, she never conversed much with the freefolk. She wanted to scold the girl, to tell her that it was very improper to speak that way in front of a princess. But, she held her tongue, until it nearly bled. 

“No,” Ilizabeth dismissed the idea through bitter teeth as he tried to remain polite. “"Are you familiar with something called 'Baby Blues'?"

"Yeah, Joramun and Sharma had it when they were little,"

"It's not something we contract south of the wall, and when my mother Sansa caught it she became deathly sick. My mother Brienne took her to Storrold's Point, where she was treated with medicine and magic. A woman came into my mothers tent to heal her and while doing so she curated my brother and I through blood magic and told them they'd have to send one of us back fifteen years later,"

"For they are the key to the Land of Always Winter," She quoted with a faintly mysterious tone. "And that would be you?"

"That would be correct," Ilizabeth smiled anxiously.

“But why you? Why your mother?”

The wings of the butterflies in Ilizabeths stomach flapped profusely. It curated a harsh circle of wind that tossed the contents around like a child peeking over their food. She’d wanted an answer to that question from the moment she found out she was going beyond the wall. She spent every day in freefolk territory, quietly rolling a prayer off the tip of her tongue in the hope that the woman would snow up. But she never did. 

“That’s something I’d like to know as well,”

"And what about your brother, what's he like? She inquired further, "Is he as annoying as you?"

"A thousand times more annoying," She rolled her eyes, "He's honestly my best friend. Most of the girls I know find their brothers to be unamusing after a while, but Rickon . . . he’s one of the funniest people I know. He enjoys singing, and doing hair. He even enjoys the town gossip,"

"It sounds like you've got a sister," She snickered.

"That's not funny," Ilizabeth stopped dead in her tracks.

Ilizabeth is a clever girl. She’s very aware of how her brother's interest in 'feminine' activities sounded to others, even she teased him about it from time to time. But she had earned the right to. She was his 'older' twin sister after all. Mundy on the other hand, had not. 

The tall ginger snapped her head over her shoulder, now facing the direction of the wind as she squinted towards Ilizabeth. It brushed her wild curls from her face and exposed her furrowed brows and tightly pursed lips.

"Why did you stop?” She asked wondrously.

"Take that back,"

"What? About your brother?"

Ilizabeth kept a still stance and an intense stare as she nodded. Mundy had never seen her so serious.

"Jeez, I take it back. He's the manliest man to ever exist," She said sarcastically.

"I didn't ask you to say that part," Ilizabeth replied as she broke from her rock solid hold, "You can joke about me as much as you want, but not my brother,"

"Alright, I hear ya'," Mundy nodded.

Silence washed over both girls as they powered towards the river.  The insects of the forest chirped, chittered, and clucked as they did every night. The wind blew the coarse dying leaves of the tree. Its impact caused the leaves to crumble into several pieces and send them floating through the breeze with the tossed up snow. On opposite ends of the never ending sky, both the moon and the sun could be seen. While the flaming orange light began to fade off the edge of the earth, the dusky glowing ball of grey came to set the night. 

Their legs naturally quickened as they tried to put the last mile behind them. The sun would be gone in another half hour, forcing them to rely on the warm dusky light from the torch, and the trickles of the current to help place where they were.

"Ugh, my arms are getting tired," Ilizabeth groaned.

"Buck up princess, we'll get there as soon as the sun sets,"

"How can you tell?" 

"Here, I'll show you," She stopped walking.

They simultaneously released the bucket, allowing it to fall into the snow in one muffled crunch. Mundy reached out to Ilizabeth, wrapping her wide working hand around Ilizabeths wrist, before bringing the girl's hand to her own mouth.

"Stick your finger in your mouth,"

Ilizabeth hesitated, keeping awkwardly intimate eye contact with the free girl as she contemplated following her directions. She opened her mouth and slipped her index finger into her mouth without breaking their intense stare. Her cheeks became overly flushed, as it heated up like a pot underneath a fire. Her heart rate began to match the sound of Winter's sprint. Mundy pulled her hand from her mouth with a pop, now holding her wrist up in the air.

"The air always feels this cold when the sun is about to set," She told her.

Ilizabeths stomach knotted tightly. Her mouth began to water as spun on her heels to turn her backside towards Mundy. She gripped her stomach over her furs, hoping to keep herself from spontaneously hurling. Mundy took a slow step forward. She hovered over her with dilated, wide eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Ilizabeth answered shortly, "Let's just . . . let's keep going,"

Mundy stalled for a moment, giving the girl another look of concern before picking her side of the drum back up. Ilizabeth's eyes remained locked on her feet as her face returned to the naturally pink shade she held in the cold. She'd often found herself flustered when she was with Mundy, and the more she thought about it, the more the feeling confused her. It was part of the reason she decided to make friends with Arlie and the rest. She hoped by putting some distance between the two, she'd learn to be less tense, but the second they were reunited she became unusually skittish again.

The pair took a short break. One that allowed Mundy to dig through her pack and collect the materials to light a torch. Ilizabeth glanced over the hill, checking to see if Winter was still in their line of sight before straying to find some dry wood. Luckily, more than half of the forest flooring was decorated with a multitude of partially-rotted limbs that had fallen off the trunk. She handed the wood to Mundy before readjusting her coat once more.

The sun continued to peer over the edge of the earth, drifting further and further below as it barely casted a liver on their side of the world. While the moon crept over their backside, filling the empty forests with dulcet chirps and soft purrs. They were both glad to be nearing their destination, so glad that they almost considered sprinting towards the finish line.

"Can I ask you something?" Ilizabeth broke the silence.

"What?"

"What was that the other day? With Hariette?" She wondered.

Mundy waited to respond. Ily could tell she was wracking her mind for the answer as her tongue stuck out of her mouth in concentration. She hoped the girl would give her an honest one, no more lies, no more circling around the issue. She wanted to know why the girl constantly behaved strangely whenever they were together.

"I-I was jealous," She confessed.

"Because we're friends?" Ilizabeth insinuated.

"Because she likes you,"

Ilizabeth's brows furrowed in complete confusion. Of course the girl liked her, that's how people became friends. Mundy's dark button-like eyes fell upon Ilizabeth. She scanned the blonde's expression, now growing slightly amused at her oblivion.

"Ya know for a smart girl, you're pretty dumb," She remarked, "She likes you . . . thinks your pretty, wants to lay you on your back an-"

"I get it," Ilizabeth interjected.

Ilizabeth’s innocently oblivious mind completely dismissed the idea. She didn't see anything abnormal about the relationship she held with Hariette. She'd wrapped her arm around other girls before, she'd also held their hand she skipped along the courtyard. That was just how young girls behaved with one another.

"That is a lie,"

"It's not," She insisted.

"What makes you say that?"

"I'll bet she's always following you around, telling you how pretty you are, trying to hold you close," Mundy teased.

"Friends spend time together, they hold hands, and I am very pretty," Ilizabeth chuckled.

Instead of insisting, Mundy chortled amusingly. The babbling of the current grew loud. It roared as they approached the edge of the small hill. Mundy let out a long satisfied sigh, finally laying eyes on the inlet. It held a secluded and peaceful aroma as it was enclosed by the rest of the small mountains. The wolf rushed down the small hill, reaching it in a matter of seconds before practically sticking his entire head in the stream to lap it up.

Ilizabeth thought about Mundy's words as they proceeded to follow Winter down the small hill. Each step rendered her more and more confused. She wondered why Mundy would be jealous of Hariette for taking a more than friendly interest in her. To be jealous is to be envious of someone’s achievements. If Mundy was truly feeling covetous about the situation, that could only mean. . .  

Ilizabeth's eyes went wide as all of the pieces began to connect. Every single interaction she had with the ginger came to the forefronts of her mind. The compliments, the mockery, the long glances, the subtle touches. They all confirmed the conclusion the girl arrived on.

She didn't say another word. They stopped at the edge of the river, feeling the light sprinkle of the stream splash against their faces as the water collided with the small protruding rocks. Just a few feet alongside the long winding river was the wide hole in the mountain. The entrance to the cave they'd sleep in. It was often used as a resting point for those who traveled back and forth to obtain more drinking water, and to inhabit whatever critters roamed the area.

Mundy reached to take Ilizabeths handle, freeing the girl from having to carry the deep wooden drum any longer. The blonde fiddled with her fingers, her heart pounding so loudly she could feel it in her flushed face. Mundy dropped the drum into the water facing the current. As the crystal clear water quickly began to fill the barrel, Winter wandered a few feet past the cave entrance. He lowered his head, sniffing and exploring the area before suddenly stopping. A subtle rustling grew from the depths of the forest. His growls stirred lowly, as if someone's stomach was rumbling.

But the distance and the loud gushing stream kept them oblivious to his alerting sounds. Ilizabeth remained in her head, struggling to process everything all at once. Eventually, she was able to form a clear picture of what had been going on. Her chest fluttered at the thought of Mundy taking a romantic interest in her. It seemed to be the only thing she could focus on. Lapping in her mind like a wheel spinning round and round. Her chest had fluttered around Mundy quite often. She’d been plagued with the thought of the ginger before. Only now, Ilizabeth was fully aware as to why.

She reached her pale quivering hand out to tap Mundy's shoulder. Her index pressed three small touches against the thick tan wool. Mundy rose from her crouched position over the river, placing the top of her head over Ilizabeths once again. Ilizabeth’s stormy eyes are wide and dilated. She looked upon the soft structure of Mundy’s face, immediately losing herself in sight of her adorably small eyes,

"Mundy, were you jealous of Hariette because . . . you fancy me too?"

The radiating glow from the moon lit her face up perfectly. Just enough light to see her eyes grow wide in Ilizabeths questioning. Ilizabeths watched her lips part enticingly. She wanted to know what they felt like, maybe even a little more than she wanted the answer to her question. She imagined they were surprisingly soft, like an embroidered pillow.

Her right foot moved forward, subtly closing the gap. Just when she thought she was finally going to get her answer, a rumbling snarl ascended from the woods. It grew loomingly louder by the second. They jolted backwards, returning the natural distance between them. The torch slipped from the ginger's grasp. It plopped down in the water, extinguishing in one loud hiss. 

Mundy’s head shot up in search of the source of the noise. Her head swiveled as she searched through the pitch black darkness. Ilizabeth clung to her wrist. She feared she’d lose her in the abyss. All she had to do was take a few steps in a different direction and the free girl would vanish in the darkness.

"You're sword, Ily!" Mundy commanded.

Her hand sprung into action. She grabbed to the handle of her sword, yanking it out in one long schliingg as Mundy prepared herself with an axe. They naturally assembled back to back before beginning to rotate in a circle. Ilizabeth’s heart hadn’t settled one bit. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she clung to the handle with all her might. She focused on settling her breath, trying to get her mind to relax and eyes to settle. 

It was a miracle Winter was mostly white. His mustard colored eyes glew in the dark, now taking on the resemblance of two polished lemons. He was one of the few things she could see through the darkness. Just when she started to inch towards the wolf, he lunged into the air, tackling something with a vicious growl. 

The energy rushed through Ilizabeth. Her legs autonomously sprung into action as she clung onto Mundy and charged towards the wolf with their weapons ready for usage. They arrived over the wolf in a matter of seconds, panting as they squinted to get a better view of what he was tearing into. It let out a memorable squeal as Winter tore into its limbs. A high pitched resonance that almost sounded inhumane. Its body flailed wildly as Winter ripped the life form it. The wolf continued to maul the corpse. He shook it around violently and ripped through it’s fresh pink flesh.

Ilizabeth and Mundy went wide eyed. Neither said a word. Their gaze traveled from its skin to its lifeless eyes. All white, with black dots.

"The creatures," Mundy exhaled.

The snarling sound grew once more. Only this time it bellowed through the woods. The rumbling in the ground picked up, forcing the girls to cover each other's back as they searched the pitch black darkness with wide panicked eyes again. Suddenly a flash of pink dashed across their eyes. Ilizabeth raised her sword, doing her best to focus on the small cluster of creatures charging before her..

"I can't see a thing!" She shouted as she swung her sword down.

The force ripped through its body, sending a ripple up the blade and into Ilizabeths hand. She heard a squelch followed by a snow crunching thud. The world around her went silent, then was quickly replaced by a high pitched sustained ring. She blinked profusely, trying to snap herself out of the shocked state she was currently in. Her eyes eventually focused on the corpse she nearly split in half. The sound came back to her, as if she was coming back above water for the first time. She'd never used her sword on anything alive before. As frightened as she was, the feeling was invigorating.

"Ilizabeth!" Mundy called.

Ilizabeth turned to see the girl no longer standing behind her. Instead she stood by the river, surrounded by creatures. Winter took off first, but Ilizabeth sprinted closely behind him. He launched into the air and tackled one of the three surrounding Mundy. Ilizabeth quickly caught her footing as she nearly slipped over the edge and into the stream. She huffed, and slightly bent her knees as she held her sword out with both hands.

"Hey!" She yelled.

Only one of the creatures turned. It quickly began to charge at Ilizabeth with its ax raised high. She took in a deep breath, preparing to take strategic swings when a loud splash broke her concentration. The creature swung its ax just over her throat, slightly slicing her neck. The blood dribbled down to the collar of the leather tunic she wore underneath her fur. It mixed with the sweat dripping down her front and coursed all the way down her stomach.

She ignored her instinct to touch the wound and focused on blocking the rest of its attack. It hissed, snarled, and croaked with every single swing. Ilizabeths steel met each one. It clanked loudly as she stopped the force of the axe from reaching her. Ilizabeth spun herself out of the position, freeing her sword before refocusing it on the creature, just like her mother taught her.

It raised its head into the sky, letting out a booming scream she imagined would alert the rest of its comrades. Its terrifying child-like screech echoed through the woods, sending a chill down Ilizabeths back. Her head was on a swivel, bouncing back and forth between the creature and the splashing coming from the river. She began to panic as she no longer saw Mundy. It was almost impossible to see more than five feet ahead of her, but when the girl came up to the surface for the last time, she screamed as loud as she possibly could.

"Help!"

The cry was muffled by the water filling her lungs. Mundy was pulled back beneath the water, silencing her cries for an uncomfortably long amount of time. Ilizabeth's already speeding heart tripled in pace. The fear of losing Mundy must've awoken something within the girl. She was no longer on the defense, she refused to block and wait for her opening any longer. Instead she shouted, releasing all of her anger as she swung the steel with all of her might. The creature stumbled backwards as it blocked the first two swings. The third one came down like lightning, striking the creature, and cutting it in a diagonal line from its shoulder to the opposite side of its waist.

Its motion ceased before falling limp into the snow, and rolling down into the stream where it would be taken away. Just as she turned to take on the last one, Winter charged at it. He tackled the creature, growling viciously as he mauled its face disturbingly. Ilizabeth sprinted autonomously. She collapsed to her knees by the edge of the river and shouted.

"Mundy!" 

"Mundy!"

Her voice croaked as she grew emotionally desperate. Her eyes welled with tears, turning them as red as the blood staining her pale neck. She didn't even bother rolling her sleeves up before digging in the icy water like it was dirt. She hoped by the grace of the Old Gods, she'd magically grasp onto her hand and pull her from the freezing cold river. A patch of dark damp brown fur poked out from the surface. Ilizabeth reacted quickly. She lunged forward almost sending herself into the freezing cold stream as she latched on it.

Mundy was a large girl, and weighed an extra hundred pounds when she was soaking wet. Ilizabeth groaned as she pulled the girl out from the water by the hood of her coat effortlessly. She didn't dare to draw another breath. Not until she knew Mundy was alright. Ilizabeth’s hands shook violently as she rolled the girl on her backside. Her head dangled limply to the side, her face had turned paler than Ilizabeths, and the subtle blue ring forming around her mouth suggested something terrifying.

Ilizabeth looked down at the girl, completely horrified by the sight of her. She placed her hand on the ginger's cheek, igniting a spark she felt at the very tips of her finger.

"Mundy!" She shouted.

Winter had approached the girl's with his head hanging low and the blood and flesh of their enemies stuck to the fur around his mouth. He watched and whimpered as Ilizabeth rapidly tapped the girl's face.

"Please wake up!"

She went on for another thirty seconds, then she stopped. Ilizabeth diverted her attention away from the ginger, doing her best to hold back the tears blurring her vision. Mundy gasped, jolting upwards as she drew in a long breath. She coughed and coughed, practically hacking up a lung as the water sputtered from her lungs. Ilizabeth stared with a gaping mouth and wide eyes, almost as if she'd seen a ghost. With one or two more lingering, Mundy's coughing began to settle. She leaned over to the side to support her body weight as she shivered. Ilizabeth rubbed her back, hoping to soothe her as the last of her gasps and coughs sounded.

She stopped, and everything went silent. The crickets chirped, the stream roared, and the winds whistled. Ilizabeth didn’t take her eyes off of Mundy, not for a second.

"I can't swim for shit," Mundy panted with a dry laugh.

Ilizabeth was stunned. Somehow, even on the brink of literal death, the girl still found some way to jest. A warm smile of relief grew across her lips as exhaled a giggle. She looked at the ginger, her pupils completely dilated, and her mind fixated on only one thing. 

Her hand found its way back over the girl's right cheek. She found herself sinking downward, completely lost in Mundy's alluring nature. The ginger froze. Her eyes stared back into Ilizabeths, like a deer spotting a hunter in the woods. Ilizabeths gaze traveled down to her lips. She craved them in the same way she and her mother craved lemon cakes.

Ilizabeth wished she'd taken the time to make it more romantic. Instead of smoothly bringing the girl in for a loving kiss, she grabbed Mundy and smashed her lips onto hers. A spark flickered between the pair as they pressed together with great passion. Ilizabeth's heart fluttered. No, it soared. As if it was a free bird instead of a vital organ. It almost left her chest, transcending to another blissful reality. But it didn't want to leave this moment. It wanted to remain here, right by Mundys.

They pulled apart slowly, both immediately missing the tingle that came from pressing their lips together. Mundy stared at Ily, and Ily stared right back. The blonde quickly pulled her hand away from Mundy’s cheek in complete awe of what she’d just done. 

"I'm so sorry, I don't know why I did that," Ilizabeth uttered.

Mundy grabbed the kneeling blonde by her waist, reattaching their lips before she could mutter another word. This kiss was longer, and full of even more passion. Ilizabeth reattached her hands to Mundy's face. She ignored the frosty feeling her skin left on her fingertips, deepening the kiss as the world around her vanished.

This time, Ilizabeth was the first to pull away. She sat on the back of her heels, looking away bashfully as her mind grew fixated on the saliva that lingered on her lips. The girl brought her thumb to where she last felt Mundy's touch on her skin. She traced over it, hoping it would suppress the aching desire to feel her again.

"Wow," Ilizabeth whispered, stunned.

"Come on," Mundy groaned as she lifted herself up from the snow. "I'm freezing,"

Ilizabeth rose to her knees. She looked over her shoulder, checking the area for any more surprises before assembling by the edge of the river. She grabbed the handles of the drum and groaned as she strained to pull the hefty weight from the current. Mundy appeared from behind, pushing Ily out of the way to get a good grip on the drum. Her teeth chattered and her knees buckled as she bent to lift it. A rolling, sustained grunt bellowed from her throat as she hoisted it out of the water. She dragged it backward before letting it plop down against the snow.

"Mundy, you're ice cold," Ilizabeth called out, "Go inside, I'll fetch some kindling for the fire,"

Normally Mundy would snap back. She’d obnoxiously remind Ilizabeth that she was not in charge here. But Ilizabeth was right, Mundy was ice cold. She obeyed the girl with a nod. Her pant legs began to freeze. They creaked as she paced her way into the cave with Winter following closely behind on her heels. Ilizabeth wandered over to the forest, approaching the area where the creatures spawned from on full alert.

Luckily, things were rotting here too. She collected enough kindling for the fire with ease and quickly followed behind her wolf and friend before disappearing into the cave. Water dripped from the rocks at the top, plopping sporadically every two seconds. It was where the sea of icicles formed and dangled over the small body of water near the right wall. The cave was eerily black. If it wasn’t for Winter’s heavy breathing and Mundy’s shivering, Ilizabeth wouldn’t have found them. 

She knelt down in front of the ancient fire pit. Nine medium sized rocks, lined up  in a circle that enclosed the old blackened wood. Ilizabeth tossed the kindling on top of the wood before picking at it to make sure it was spread evenly. 

“Do you still have the Iron and Flint?” Ilizabeth’s dainty voice echoed through the cave.

Mundy trembled as she broke from the hold she had on herself to search for her bag. She patted her waist then patted the dark ground around her, “I think I lost my pack in the water,” Mundy replied.

Ilizabeth shut her eyes in concentration. She cleared her mind out like her Queen mother cleared rooms. Then her eyes suddenly went wide in remembering she had some items of her own. She dug her nimble fingers into the side pocket of her own pack and pulled out exactly what she was looking for. In three tough strokes, the spark bounced from the flint to the kindling. A warm light grew in the cave as it spread across the thin branches. Their sight was restored. First they could see ten feet ahead, then twenty, then thirty as the fire grew big, warm, and vibrant. 

Ilizabeth stood to turn in a complete circle. She anxiously scanned her surroundings for creatures, but quickly found herself captivated by the surprising beauty of the cave. It was nothing like the one she and Jon stayed in. Instead of being as dark and depressing as the night sky without any stars, the rock walling was a greyish beige and had hints of sapphire in it. Not just the color either, but the actual gem. It radiated in the orange light, practically glowing brighter than Winter’s night eyes. 

She stumbled into a few silky cobwebs as she peered over the crystal blue water. When she held her hand out over it, the steam from the naturally heated water quickly moistened her palm. 

“Mundy!” Ilizabeth’s shut echoed, “The waters hot,”

“I’m not really feeling a swim right now,” She replied sarcastically.

“It might help keep you warm?” She wondered. 

“No more water,” 

“Fine,” Ilizabeth huffed before muttering, “You’re so stubborn,”

Ilizabeth plopped down next to Mundy is one echoing huff. Winter shifted from Mundy’s side and joined Ilizabeth on her right. She reached out to pet the wolf, but quickly pulled her hand away as he still had guts and blood drying on his mouth. Ilizbaeth checked her pockets for the handkerchief she brought from Winterfell. She pulled the subtly stained white cloth out and rubbed off as much as she could. The wolf squirmed and pulled back a few times in annoyance, but he never snarled, or flashes his teeth. In fact, after being told to hold still, he did, and whimpered the entire time she wiped his mouth.

“You treat that beast like he’s a baby,” Mundy griped.

“Must you always comment on my every move,” Ilizabeth replied.

“Sorry. I’m just-  I’m really cold” She shivered, “Trying to keep from thinking about it,”

Ilizabeth threw the bloody rag down before moving her hands to fiddle with the sterling silver wolf pin resting in the middle of her clavicle. It broke free from the loop, remaining in Ilizabeths grasp as she slung her cloak over her shoulder. Without hesitating, she rose to her knees and threw it around Mundy. 

“This is yours,” Mundy protested. 

“Your welcome,” Ilizabeth replied, ignoring Mundy’s stance as she sat close to clip it together. 

“Thanks,” She muttered,

Ilizabeth returned to her bum, letting the quiet reverberating water droplets take up the space between them. Her eyes grew tired as she looked out to the dancing flames. She’d exhausted so much energy; walking, carrying the drum, fighting the creatures, pulling the nearly two-hundred pound girl out of the water. And now that the adrenaline had worn off, she found herself longing for a deep, restorative slumber.

“I’ve never seen the creatures beyond the Lands,” Mundy spoke, “We’re leaving first thing in the morning,”

“You’ve fought them before?” She asked incredulously.

“I went with my father and Jon on the second try . . . It didn’t go well,”

Unsure of what to say, Ilizabeth faced the fire once more. The crackling settled in her ears like a song. A lullaby. One that was putting her right to sleep. Her shadowed eyes grew tired as she stretched out a yawn. She wanted so desperately to lay down, but her mind still remained distracted by the occasional burrss that came from Mundy. 

“Lay with me,” Ilizabeth said plainly. 

“What?” Mundy gulped. 

“Lay with me,” She repeated no differently. 

Ilizabeth scooted behind the girl before sprawling out on the flat rock right underneath the warmth of the light. Mundy looked over her shoulder and raised a brow. When Ilizabeth continued to stare back, without saying another word, Mundy laid down. Ilizabeth expected her to lay with her back facing her front. That way she could spoon the girl the best she could in an attempt to keep her warm. But when Mundy laid close, placing their lips just inches apart, she held her breath. 

“I meant for you to lay the other way,” Her warm breath brushed against Mundy’s face.

“I know,” She paused, “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met, Ilizabeth”

“So are you,”

“Prettier than all the beauties south of the wall?” She laughed as her body twitched in the cold, “I doubt that,”

“I’ve never kissed any of them,” Ily remarked. 

“I guess that makes me lucky then,” 

“Will you shut up already?”

Ilizabeth closed the distance. A quick peck of soft, plump, pursed lips, quickly turned into several. Then it turned into something intense. Resembling a great hunger for more, their mouths gaped, and their tongues danced in the heat. Ilizabeth had never had anything like it before. Something so sweet. Sweeter than fresh cream. She moved her hands to the girl's face, gripping her cheek and neck to pull them closer together. Mundy grabbed her by the waist and rolled onto her back, bringing Ilizabeth on top. They were completely lost in emotions they held for each other. Caught in the heat of passion. 

When Winter let out a confused whine, both parties stopped the assault on each other's mouths. They looked to Winter, who laid his head on the ground with his bright eyes staring back at them and laughed. Ilizabeth sat up, still straddling the ginger as her chuckles lingered. 

“You’re an idiot you know,” Ilizabeth proclaimed, “If you fancied me you could have just said that,”

Mundy rose to her elbows with an amused expression plastered on her smug face, “Oh really? Tell me princess, you ever liked a girl before?”

Ilizabeth didn’t respond. Her smile faded slightly as she began to fiddle with her fingers. 

“That’s what I thought,” Mundy remarked, “I’ve never even looked at a boy the way probably look at your knight,”

Ilizabeth scoffed, “You’re such a-” 

The girl couldn’t even finish her sentence. She shoved the ginger back harshly before removing herself from her lap. Ilizabeth rolled over on her side furiously. She tucked her knees in slightly, and rested her head over her folded hands with her back to the ginger. Mundy pushed all of her buttons. Detonating a small cannon inside her chest. She did her best to ignore the sound of fabric scraping against the rock. But when Mundy’s voice sounded over her ear, her eyes shot open. 

“I’m sorry,”

“You’re always sorry,” Ilizabeth griped.

“I know,” She sighed. Her hand hovered over Ilizabeths side as she contemplated the touch. Still she proceeded, and placed it right over her fur.

“I’m trying to not say the first thing that comes to my mind, I really am,”

She swallowed Ilizabeth’s silence harshly, like taking a vitamin without any water. Of course, she didn’t blame the girl. Ilizabeth had warned her that she couldn’t just say anything and not expect a response. Only this time, her response was silence. Mundy leaned over the blonde, and pressed a soft kiss on her cheek before uttering, “Goodnight,”

Just when she about to roll over on her side, placing her back to Ilizabeths, the blonde grabbed her. 

“I forgive you,” A smile broke across her lips, then she rolled her eyes, “Come here,”

Mundy unclasped the cloak from around her neck before scooting right beside the girl. She leaned in close, throwing the cloak over the both of them as best as it would reach. Her arm snaked over the girl's waist as she shut her eyes. Smiling as the warmth of the fire dried her backside. 

“Goodnight princess,”

“Goodnight,”

Ilizabeth snuggled into the cold against her back blissfullt. Her mind was no longer plagued with the starving freefolk, or the creatures from the Land. Her tire took her worries away like a gust of wind. She settled on her kiss instead. Remembering Mundy’s grip on her waist . . . her heavy breathing on her face . . . her lips against hers . . . all as she drifted to sleep.

Dark clouds, dark skies. Frosty smoke steamed from the rows of iced spikes sticking out of the surface of the sea. Salty, frozen waves stood still, as if all of time had ceased. Ilizabeth soared over the shore in her dreams. She swept down over a few ships, all riddled with hanging icicles as they had been glued to the surface for what appeared to be centuries. She dropped down to get a closer look at one. The deck was patchy with holes, the main and foremast were crossed, forming an ‘X’ that hovered over the frozen sea, the rudder was torn and the heel was cracked. 

There were holes in the ice. Man made holes that were three feet wide. Perfectly circular like a dish. And occasionally jumping from the fresh frozen over sea were flying fish. Their silver iridescent like scales flickered under the moon as they jumped from hole to hole. Disappearing underneath the surface and reappearing like groundhogs. 

Her wings took her away from the Bay of Ice and further into the Frozen Shore. Where the mountains were jagged and taller than the sky. Where the healthy full grown hickory trees sprouted like freshly fertilized crops. Where the fresh juniper vegetables were picked at by the land's herbivore inhabitants Where the direwolves roamed freely, alongside the polar bears, snow owls, white hares, reindeers and more. 

Ilizabeths excitement was strong enough to seep into the dragon, sending her high into the air as she twirled like an aerobics dancer on silks. Her wings took her east, traveling out almost seventy miles in far less than an hour. She wanted to meet her dragon. To learn its eye color, to caress its scales. But mainly, to confirm that this was all real. A dream was a dream and warging was a step up. But nothing would compare to seeing a great big flying beast in the flesh. She swooped down under the clouds that always seemed to linger over the land to see if she had reached the Frostfangs when a bright shining line caught her attention. 

Ilizabeth plunged the dragon downwards to get a better look. There was a crack in the earth. One that appeared to run from the brink of the Bay all the way north. Through the Lands to the other end of the earth. Crooked and slightly splitting, an aegean light beamed from the splinter. She could longer fight her curiosity. Instead of continuing east, she landed right on the break. 

Her talons clawed into the ice as she landed in a huff. Exhaling frosty steam from her nostrils. She examined the area curiously, now taking note of the huge contrast. To the left of the line everything was vibrant. The trunks remained an oak brown, the leaves remained large and vibrant, the rivers and streams remained full and shale hued, and the area was full of life. Whereas the right, nearing the Frostfangs and everything else, was its polar opposite. The land was dark. The sky was starless, and life was drained from the ground like a snake gripping its prey.

Chapter Text

Queen Sansa stood tall and uneasy in front of the stoned version of her father. The crypts were quiet, leaving for the small chatter of the scurrying mice, and the subtle crackle of the flame torches to fill the space. She looked up at the man's powerful stance, his blank expression, and the stoned version of 'Ice' with somewhat absent eyes. When Ned was killed, the whereabouts of his sword was the last thing on her mind. But knowing that her wife carried a reforged version of her family history brought an unexpected level of peace that cleansed some of her grief.

She admired how the newer version of Neds tomb held a greater resemblance than the last. Her and Arya complained about it every time they went down to visit him. He had a face she wanted to remember, one she wanted her children to remember and even her children's children. 

A decent portion of the crypt was ruined when the Night King resurrected their ancestors. Skeletons with the surname Stark came bursting from the stone like a geyser, ruining almost one of the carefully crafted creations of her ancestors. When it came time to restore it, they struggled to decipher whose remains belonged where. She was sure many people were misplaced, but they did their best. There wasn't much anyone could do beyond that. 

When it came time for the sculptor to recreate Ned's tomb, Sansa practically stood over the man's shoulder during the entire process. When he made her fathers his nose too long, she corrected it. And when his eyebrows drew too close together, she informed him of that too. It had to be perfect. Because Ned Stark deserved nothing less.

She didn't particularly enjoy coming back to the crypts. It made her feel incredibly off-balanced. Like a scale with bricks on one end and feathers on the other. She carried the absolute horror of fleeing from the crypts with her everyday. Most days it was subconscious, but sometimes she dreamt of it. The chattering bones, the immense amount of heat she'd felt coursing through her body, the terrified wailing of innocent children, the way she looked to Tyrion regretting that he'd be the last thing she saw. She recalled every single moment of it in full detail.

Once the chaos settled, and they all gathered the next morning to burn their fallen brothers and sisters, she recalled thinking about the fortune of never receiving her mother and brothers bodies after they were murdered at the Red Wedding. The idea of them rising again, only to slay their own people made her stomach like a pretty bow. Frilly and perfectly knotted in the center. But the thought of them being dumped in rivers or mass graves hurt just as much.

Sansa had been plagued with the thought of death recently. She thought about the death of her parents and her brothers of course, but she also remembered the death of everyone else involved. Those who died when her father was attacked in King's Landing, those who fought with Robb and remained at his side when he died too. She thought of those who died in honor of House Stark when it was taken, and those who died trying to get it back. She remembered those who died protecting Westeros from whatever rested beyond the wall, and now she thought of those who would give their life to see her bloodline remain on the throne.

Sansa announced that her reign would be one of peace and prosperity sixteen years ago. She stressed an understanding of its importance, seeing as to how they'd faced several gruesome years of fighting prior to. And yet the temper of turmoil and motherhood left her here, standing in the crypts alone, struggling to contain the Greyjoys as she avoided another meeting for battle-plans with her small council.

Grand Maester Horden sent a raven informing the Greyjoys about the Manderly's holding Yara at the Harbor the moment the Queens left Rickons side. A raven practically arrived the very next day, stating that the Greyjoys were preparing men and their ships to sail upon White Harbor to get their Lady back. With or without Sansa's permission.

She never would’ve predicted her alliance with Pyke would’ve come with such difficulties. Then again, she never thought to plan ahead for something like this at all. They were under the jurisdiction of her brother, King Brandon, and although they were allies, Sansa did not have the power to convince them to remain on the isle until they could devise a less violent way of extracting Yara. Which of course, advanced things quicker than she hoped for.

"Sansa," Her wifes smooth voice echoed through the empty crypts.

She turned, now listening to the gentle ascending pants of her pet direwolf who followed behind Brienne. If there was anyone Storm loved as much as Sansa it would be her wife. Most nights, she would disobey Sansa and jump up into their bed. She’d rest her head on Brienne’s thigh as she curled into a ball behind the woman's knees. Sansa would try to shoo her away, and Brienne would laugh as she stroked the soft budding fur on her head. That was when Storm learned if she was ever in trouble with Sansa, she could always just run to her other mother for protection. 

The pretty clay colored wolf trotted over to Sansa, her tongue flapping up and down as she blew right by. Storm had never been to the crypts and judging by the way she could barely settle on one thing to sniff out, she was ecstatic to have finally visited. 

Sansa's elongated spouse appeared from the stairwell with her eyes already scanning the area near Ned's tomb. The blonde had found her standing there yesterday, her pretty eyes just as vacant as they were blue. Sansa admired her wifes stature, especially when well dressed. The chest, sleeves, and skirt of Brienne's nicely fitted tunic was made of some of the finest floral brocade fabric, and had a grey center where the lacing laid tight. It clung to her chest, revealing just how little was underneath as she slowly approached Sansa.

"You used to come down here maybe twice a year," she spoke, "Now I find you hiding down here two days in a row,"

"I'm not hiding," Sansa rebutted.

Brienne's hefty footsteps cluttered against the solid cold ground, only silencing the echo once she stood less than a foot by her wife's side. She unlatched her right hand from her left, and snaked it around Sansa's thin waist.

"You are," she sighed, "But that's alright. I've not come to bring you back, I'm here to hide as well,"

Sansa forced a grin as she leaned into her wife's side. As much as she loved having her near, it wasn't enough to distract her from the thoughts swarming around her mind. They made her stomach feel as if it was a ship, floating and rocking violently as it powered through the waves who sought to tear the whole crew asunder. 

"What's on your mind, my love?,"

"Death," Sansa replied grimly.

Brienne was stunned. She furrowed her brows, pressed her lips together tightly, and began to stammer over the extensive vocabulary she held in her mind. Sansa continued to stare ahead absently, which only worsened the concern Brienne held for her.

"What do you mean?"

"There isn't a way to retrieve Yara without heading into battle, not with the Greyjoys already sailing with swords in hand," Sansa answered with great disappointment.

Brienne sighed relievingly. She feared her wife was preparing to darken the conversation, "No, I don't think there is,"

"Do you think Rickard's brought any harm to her?" Sansa wondered.

"I'm unsure but I have my doubts." Brienne answered, "The Cerwyns took Yara to anger you. They aim to provoke you into a fit of rage and take advantage of any missteps on the battlefield that stem from it,"

"He will not get a rise out of me,"7

"Good, I know he won't," Brienne rubbed her shoulder. "We're going to get Yara back, and peace will be restored to the North again soon,"

Sansa tried to free her overly crowded mind from her many concerns about the upcoming battle. She'd never sent men off to war and as their Queen she felt a great sense of appreciation to those willing to give their life to see her bloodline continue to rule over the North. As someone with a family, she downheartedly harbored what that meant.

But everyone had a choice in the matter. It was how rebellions worked. The Cerwyns wanted her and her family dead, dethroned at the least, and her allies chose to remain at her side. Both parties were aware of the consequences and that was the only way she allowed herself to view it.

"The Greyjoys journey is long, thankfully. It should buy us enough time to figure something out,"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, my love," Brienne answered, "We're not at the meeting,"

Sansa removed her gaze from the pillars surrounding her fathers tomb and onto Brienne. Their eyes met in the middle when Brienne began to smirk. Her storming grey crown rested on top of her short blond hair well. Perfectly placed and polished. She wasn't entirely used to wearing it yet, but it was growing on her.

"You're all smiles this evening," Sansa squinted as she removed herself from her wifes grasp to better view her face.

"I'm just happy to be here with you and Rickon and-," She paused.

Sansa could already anticipate where the blond was heading before she froze. Afterall, Ilizabeth was her daughter too. Her pretty pale porcelain face came and settled on the forefronts of their mind like a raven returning to Winterfell. She often consumed their thoughts, like the town had caught a whiff of new gossip, but it had been a good while since either had vocalized their longing to see her again.

"How do you think she and Jon are making out?" Sansa barely asked above a whisper. She feared the universe would somehow twist her words into some unfortunate fate for her daughter if she spoke too much about it.

"I'll bet she's enjoying her time beyond the wall. She's always taken an interest in adventures. Plus, you Starks seem to really enjoy grimly cold places," Brienne replied as she shivered from the chill in the crypt.

"You enjoy the cold occasionally too," Sansa rolled her eyes.

Brienne couldn't argue with her wife. As a child she somewhat feared the North. One of her old servants, Baela, was often filling her and her siblings' minds with stories about the others beyond the wall. She'd tell tales about the Night's Watch and how some of them came back with severe cases of frostbite. Some were so bad that the mens nose, ears, and fingers would just go numb and fall right off the bone like a piece of freshly cooked meat.

She never imagined being able to see the beauty in Winterfell so quickly. She and Podrick nearly turned into one of Old Baela's fables after sitting out in the snow, waiting to rescue Sansa for days. But when she did finally get a moment to stop and take it all in, she could practically cry at seeing snow fall from the sky for the first time in her life. It was a pretty view, one that made first laying eyes on the girl she’d end up marrying much more memorable. 

"Say, do you remember the day we lost them in Wintertown?" Sansa asked, finally allowing a genuine smile to warm her face.

Brienne of course, could never forget the day their children went missing for over two hours. It had been a normal summer day eight years ago. The sun beamed down, mixing with the naturally cool air of Winterfell to create a warmth that would probably still be considered cold to southerners. The sweet succulent smell of freshly baked honey glazed bread stewed through the streets. It was so strong they could taste it before one of the commoners very graciously gifted them an entire basket.

A group of performers had been putting on a play known as 'The Queens' Night' for all of the North to see. It was a dramatic reenactment of the Queens' wedding night, one that consisted of three acts involving beauty, birth and blood. Both women thought it was silly, but remained complacent with the ways in which their people chose to entertain themselves.

When it finally came to town, the seven year old twins caught wind of it through the townspeople and insisted that their mothers bring them to see it. And so, the Queens’ handmaidens dressed themselves and their children in some of their lightest, most elegant furs and brought them into town. There were over two hundred people flooding the area. It was so heavily congested that one could not walk without bumping shoulders with another. The stench of the smelted steel and sweaty blacksmiths did not mix well, but the children's excited squeals kept them sane for a while.

The first Act was quite strange. The woman playing Sansa had a rather plain face; average rounded eyes, a thin hooked nose, and thin lips. She wore a cheap knotted wig that was three shades darker than the Queen's natural hair color. She also struggled to keep the stuffed pillow she wore underneath her gown in place. The crowd burst into fits of laughter every time it fell out and tumbled across the stage.

For humorous reasons, the 'wedding ceremony' was orchestrated by an overly crazed imitation of Grand Maester Horden. Although the man had become a bit senile and scatter brained as the years went on, he didn’t say half of the outrageous things that fell from the performer's mouth.

Hand painted leaves were sprinkled across the stage, along with stretched out pieces of cotton. A small wooden structure sat at the back of the centerstage that was carved out to resemble the sacred weirwood tree of the Godswood. When it came time to watch their version of Brienne walk down the aisle they noticed that the woman playing her was actually a man. He was long and lean, and hair as bright as the Lord Commander. Those in charge of the play apologized to the grimacing knight and Queen, stating that they simply could not find a woman tall enough to play the part. Brienne brushed it off, and continued to watch the performance unenthusiastically.

Sometime during the middle of the second Act, Sansa had caught a taste for the sour cherry candy made by one of the shop owners she became familiar with in town. When she turned to ask the children if they'd like some she realized they were gone. At first they did not panic, they figured the children could not have gone too far. The pair searched silently for a while, but once the sun began to creep towards the edge of the earth a panic flushed over both women.

Nearly three hours had gone by, and the children were nowhere to be found. It wasn't until the performers and stage crew began to collect their things for the next show, that someone began shouting that they'd found the children backstage. They were hiding and giggling inside a large chest with the hopes of accompanying the actors to their next performance. Sansa was angry, Brienne was even angrier. But both women ultimately cracked smiles the second they were reunited with the twins.

"That was Ilizabeths doing, you know?" Sansa’s chuckles lingered.

She turned to get a look at Brienne's change in expression. The blond wracked her memory for the event, recalling that it was her son who confessed to convincing his sister to do something so insane.

"Rickon said it was his idea,"

"He took upon all the blame for it, and Ilizabeth let him," Sansa shook her head, "But I could tell the idea was really hers by the way she was fidgeting with her fingers during his confession,"

"I made the boy help the servants clean up after the knight's breakfast for the rest of that week," Brienne proclaimed with a guilty smile.

"I remember, he was very upset with you," Sansa laughed even harder, "Don't worry though, I made Ilizabeth help Lena and Maedalyn change our linen every morning,"

Brienne stifled a laugh as she thought back on some of the wild things her children did. Just as she fixedher mouth to suggest they leave the chilled, creepy, crypt, the swift pitter patter of the wolf returned. Neither knew where she was coming from, but judging by the cobwebs riddled into her fur, she must've been snooping through every nook and cranny of the place. Sansa called the wolf, commanding that she sit while Sansa picked the cobwebs off. Once they were gone, she gave the wolf a nice scratch behind her ears.

"I imagine Lady Mormont will be displeased with our tardiness," Brienne laughed as she stuck her arm out for Sansa to take.

"That she will be," Sansa grinned as she held back a chuckle.

While the Queens returned to the light above ground, Rickon continued to show Lady Helenys all of his favorite places in their castle. He started with the Godswood on the very first day of course, then moved onto both Keeps. He started to pass over the courtyard as it was often flooded with northerners on a mission and was one of the less interesting places at home. But the Lady insisted they see it, stating that she cared about anything that took part in shaping the man she was getting to know.

Today they would walk the Broken Tower. Rickon knocked on the girl's bedchamber door in the Guest House the second Eleanor finished helping him prepare for the day with a torch in hand. They'd be needing it if they planned on seeing anything inside the tower. He'd grown rather attached to the girl in the last month. She was the last thing he thought of when he rested his head at night and the first when he rose.