Ashes of Winter: The Stark Revival and the Game of Thrones

Winterfell 303 AC.

Davos.

Jon's return to Winterfell couldn't have happened at a better time and Davos thanked the Seven for it. He'd done what little he could to try and get Sansa Stark to see that sending the Free Folk away would not go down well with the Lords of the North. Had reminded her that once the king awoke and Jon returned, they too would take serious issue with her for agreeing to such. Yet she'd not listened to his counsel and had instead dismissed his concerns as if he or they mattered not. He felt for the girl, truly he did. No one should go through all she had, yet at times he found her to be incredibly frustrating to deal with and both arrogant and obtuse.

That he'd not truly forgiven her for keeping secret the Knights of the Vale from them before the Battle of the Bastards, was something that he'd had to fight down at times when dealing with her. Davos knew full well that had they known they could call upon such a force for the battle, then their tactics would have been much different and lives would have been spared that had been lost. Was it not for how he felt about the King and Jon Snow, then he'd not have been so easily able to put his feelings to one side in this regard. Then again, how he felt about Jon Snow allowed him to do the same with someone he had much larger issues with than Sansa Stark.

He was glad that Melisandre had not returned with Jon from the South. A part of him hoped that the woman had met her end and yet did not believe that she had. Brandon Stark's words had taken hold of a part of his heart and he knew that he and Jon needed to speak so he could find the truth in them. Princess Shireen deserved justice, she deserved to be avenged and he was the only man who could see it done, the only person left alive in the world who had cared for the sweet girl that Shireen had been. That though was a problem for another day, today's problems were right in front of him as Northmen and women rejoiced and Vale Knights grew ever more agitated and prickly.

"I'll not be talked to by a bastard that way." one Vale knight called out loudly.

"Then go speak to Jon Snow and name him such, but make sure you bring your sword with you for the White Wolf will be sure to feast on your pitiful corpse when you do so." a Stark Guard shouted out to loud laughter.

"We do not have to listen to the likes of you." another Vale knight said and Davos moved quickly between the man, his friends, and the Northern guards who had joined him to even the numbers.

"For Fuck's Sake! Are you children or what? The Dead march our way and you argue over some harsh words. You heard what Lord Snow said, his voice is the voice of the King in the North, and to name him a bastard is to insult a King's Regent and so a King. Think carefully before you speak in such a way again." he said, chiding the Vale knight before then turning to the Stark Guard "And you, the Knights of the Vale have come to offer us their aid, they've accepted guest rights and should be treated accordingly." he said. "And that goes for the fucking rest of you too."

It would do little good, he knew it, the Knights of the Vale knew it and the Northerners knew it. The White Wolf had spoken most harshly to men who saw themselves as better than he and their pride had been hurt. Though given how proud they were, that was a good thing. What wasn't was that because they had lorded it over the North because of words spoken by Brandon Stark, they were now being lorded over in return because of words spoken by Jon Snow. Only one of those two men's words carrying any weight now, Davos felt.

Davos poured himself an ale and moved to speak to the Northern Lords and tried not to look at the group of Vale knights who were glaring at him and them. Lord Royce and some others had joined Littlefinger and Sansa Stark when they'd left the room and there was no one to keep the rest of the Valemen in order. While the Northmen would poke and prod and make light of all the Knights of the Vale had done, they'd not actually start something. He wasn't sure he could say the same for the prickly knights. Especially without those in charge of them here to keep them in line.

"Thank the fucking Old Gods." Rickard Ryswell said as he drank down a mug of ale.

"The Jon speaks for The Rickon." Morgan Liddle said loudly.

"A true wolf that one." Barbrey Dustin added almost giddily.

"Ah, Ser Davos, join us." Wyman Manderly said and Davos took a seat beside them "We were just saying how good it is that Jon Snow has returned when he did, Ser Davos. I feared that the meeting may not have had a pleasant end had he not. He's gone to see his brother?" Wyman asked.

"Aye, I'd imagine so." he said, taking a swallow of his ale.

"The Free Folk, Davos, they'll stay now that Jon Snow has returned?" Ned Umber asked, the young lad sitting with Lyanna Mormont and some of the younger lords, ladies, and heirs.

"They'll stay. They name him King Crow, Say he can't be killed." Lyanna Mormont said and Davos chuckled causing the girl to glare at him.

"He fucking tries to get himself killed often enough, mayhap they're right." he said with a laugh.

"Those wounds, Ser Davos. By the Seven I'd not. I've seen his grace's wound where the arrow hit, but compared to those… I…"

"The traitors who gave him them are dead, Lord Manderly. Killed by Jon's own hands and though I hold no faith in R'hllor, I thank him that he brought Jon back. In what we've got to face there is no man better suited to see us through."

"Aye, but what then?" Barbrey Dustin said.

"My lady?"

"What happens after the battle, Davos. What is to become of the North once we win?" she said and let her words sit for a moment.

"You're so sure we'll win, sister mine." Rickard Ryswell snorted.

"I believe we will, aye. But that's not my reason for asking it so, I know what happens should we lose. There are no reasons to speak the words, we win or we die, brother, it's that fucking simple." Barbrey said angrily.

"Barbrey speaks true, as always. Given what Jon Snow said, the war in the south is over and the Dragon Queen will soon look North. You believe she'll come as his and our ally, Ser Davos?" Wyman asked and all the eyes nearest to them looked at him.

He paused before answering, feeling his throat dry and his tongue-tied. Taking the largest swallow from his mug yet, he let the cool liquid pool in his mouth for a little bit before drinking it down.

"The Queen said that she'd come to an agreement with Jon, his aid in the war in the South and she'd aid us in the war against the dead. Some people don't hold true to their words, we all know that and have suffered from it to our cost. I find myself having faith that Daenerys Targaryen will. Jon Snow helped her win the war and you heard him speak here, should the Vale decide to fight against her, he'll fight with her because it would mean his word has not yet been proved true. She'll come, she'll fight by our sides and together, we'll win or we'll die as Lady Dustin said so well." Davos said and he saw relieved looks and then not so as the full extent of his words sank in.

A choice would need to be made once the battle was won. An independent North may be what they want and believe they deserve but Davos didn't believe that Daenerys Targaryen had come to be the queen of six kingdoms. Were they to fight against her for that independence, then he didn't think that even Jon Snow could lead them to victory. Though there were other ways to bring kingdoms together other than war or capitulation.

Even though he'd not seen much of the Queen and Jon together when they had come to Winterfell, he'd seen enough to know they made a striking couple. They seemed to share an attraction to each other too, given the way they looked at each other at times. Were Rickon older, then perhaps a match could be made between him and the queen. Though if he was right and there was something between Jon and the Dragon Queen, then perhaps that was the match the North should seek to make. A good Queen and King sitting on the Iron Throne, Dragon Blood and Wolf's Blood united, what a tale that would be.

"Ser Davos?" Wyman said, taking him from his thoughts.

"Forgive me, my lord."

"We were speaking of the North and what's to come next, Ser Davos." Lady Barbrey said.

"Perhaps it's Jon Snow you should speak to, Lady Dustin. I'm sure he could tell you more about the Queen's plans than I."

"Aye, you have the right of it, Davos. I say we request a meeting with Jon Snow, as soon as possible." Lyanna Mormont said and Davos wondered what he'd gotten the lad into now.

Winterfell 303 AC.

Rickon Stark.

He felt so weak when he opened his eyes that he almost believed he was in the wrong body. His head was spinning and he had a hard time focusing on his surroundings, but he soon realized that he was back in his room and he struggled to sit straight in his bed.

He closed his eyes and was about to check on Ghost when the door opened and a flow of people swarmed into his room. He winced but laughed heartily when Tormund took him in his arms while cursing him for scaring him so, then smiled sheepishly at a visibly annoyed Lyanna Mormont.

"What happened to you?" she asked concernedly.

"You would not believe me if I told you." he said, his throat raspy and hurting from days without uttering a sound. "But I am back now, and I am sorry for leaving you alone to deal with things without me."

"You fucking… Do you know what you put us through, Your Grace?" she spat, but he smiled to see how relieved she actually was.

"I have a vague idea. I'm really sorry. To all of you." he said, noticing some other Lords and Ladies present in the room.

"By my right as a council member, I order you to not pull another stunt like this, or I will take your Crown and declare myself Queen in the North myself." Lyanna said only half japing.

"And you would make a fine Queen I'm certain. Let us make it in writing, shall we?" Lyanna blushed while the people around them chuckled and mumbled things about a betrothal and he stumbled over his words when he realized what it looked like. "This is not a proposal or courting, I swear."

"I should kill you, King Rickon Stark, for putting me in this position, but you're lucky I tolerate you enough to let you live."

"We should let him rest," Alys Karstark declared and he frowned.

"Wait. Where's Jon? I'm sure I've heard him talk to me. Did I…"

It was a strange thing to feel someone before you could actually see them, and Rickon briefly wondered if it was because of his connection to Ghost and Nymeria that he was able to, but it didn't matter in the end. As soon as they crossed the threshold he knew it. He didn't need to look at them to know they were out of breath and that Arya had been crying.

"Do not. Ever! Dare scaring us like that again!" his sister said to him before rushing to his side and embracing him, but his eyes were fixed on his brother.

Jon was there. He was back. His presence was not a fragment of his imagination. As he took him in though it was clear that something had changed in him. For a moment he'd considered the change had come from his side, from his feelings about what he had learned about Jon's parentage, but his heart clenched in pain and made him think otherwise.

"Brother," he said, his voice full of conflicting emotions, and he couldn't keep his tears at bay as he saw Jon flinch.

Jon's smile was a sad one, not the whole and true one he'd seen when he was at Dragonstone with Daenerys Targaryen. Did he miss her? Was he sad that he had to come back to him? Was Bran right? Had Jon already chosen her and so was his fate sealed?

"His Grace needs some time with his family," Lyanna declared and he was so grateful for her words. So he swore that he would find a way to thank her and make it up to her properly.

Arya was not letting go of him however, his sister was checking every single part of his body to see if he was hurting or injured.

"You are forbidden to enter the Godswood from now on, do you hear me?" she growled and he chuckled.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Sister. I swear I am, but it needed to be done." he said, his eyes still fixing Jon who had now walked toward his bed. "I saw you, Jon. I saw you at Dragonstone."

Jon shuddered and took Rickon's hand in his, its warmth as comforting as he remembered.

"I felt you there…" Jon said, his eyes glistening with tears. "Were you…"

"In the hawk. Aye."

"Are you well? I saw…"

"All is well, Jon. I got out in time."

"Thank the Gods! If you… If something… I wouldn't forgive myself…" Jon said and the tremble in his voice and the way he looked at him proved his words true.

"What in the seven hells are you both talking about?" Arya asked, obviously confused.

"Our dear brother here is a warg," Jon said, smiling a little more truly than before, and Rickon could feel some pride in his brother's voice, as well as relief from his part at being called so.

"I traveled a lot, sister. First I was inside Ghost, then we felt that Jon was in danger and I shared Unicorn's body. With him, we arrived in Greywater Watch and I saw Howland and Meera Reed, they helped me control it, and then I traveled some more. I was a lizard lion, then I was an eagle, then a deer and a hawk… Then the dragon killed the hawk and I had to come back, but not before seeing Nymeria. She's coming home with her pack, Arya. She said to tell you she will be here soon." he talked excitedly, ignoring her worried looks until he couldn't take her silence anymore. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"I think you went somewhere, but…"

"When Nymeria arrives you will feel sorry you didn't believe me." he cut her off, offended.

"He's telling the truth, Arya." Jon said, to Rickon's relief. "I felt him when I was in Dragonstone, and I… I saw you both through Ghost's eyes." Jon's voice caught in his throat as Ghost put his head on Rickon's lap "I'm sorry, I should have been here. I would have been here sooner, but when we finally won against Cersei, I…" he could see Jon struggling to let the words out and felt a pang in his chest as he remembered his brother's smile, his happiness when he had embraced the Dragon Queen.

Rickon's heart broke at the thought that his brother had felt obligated to come back. That had he not sworn an oath to him, he would have preferred to stay with her and her dragons. It hurt him a lot, but not as much as seeing the pain in Jon's eyes, so he pressed his hand with his own and tried to smile.

"I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for both of you," Jon said and Rickon frowned. "I was ambushed, not by the Queen and her men!" he added when he saw Arya about to react. "Someone tried to kill me. It was my friend, Sam, or rather it was someone wearing his face."

Arya's gasping echoed Rickon's at that moment. Both were stunned and worried at the news but then Jon quickly reassured them.

"I felt it. I felt he was not who he claimed he was and your warning resonated within me." Jon said, looking at them both.

"Did you kill them? Did they flee? How are you still alive?" Arya asked worriedly.

"They were killed, but not by me. Were it not for Rhaegal, I would have lost my life." Jon wore an odd smile on his face when he said the name and Rickon wondered who this Rhaegal was and how he could thank them, so he asked Jon to tell him who he was speaking of.

"Rhaegal?"

"One of the Queen's dragons. He protected me and saved my life. I was unconscious for days though, and that's when I saw you through Ghost's eyes."

"Not that I'm not grateful for his help, but… Why did the Queen's Dragon protect you?" Arya frowned and the way Jon's whole body closed off made Rickon shiver.

He knows. Oh, By the Old Gods, he knows.

"Arya, I'm hungry. Would you be so kind as to bring me something to eat?" he asked suddenly, hoping his sister would get his meaning and allow him a private moment with Jon.

"Since when have you become so polite?" she frowned.

"Since fucking now! So fucking bring me something to eat, now, please!" he replied impatiently.

Arya complied, not before mumbling about ungrateful brats and making Rickon smile at her antics. When they were finally alone, he turned to Jon and used their clasped hands to pull his brother to him, thankful that Jon moved along his gesture for he wasn't sure he would be strong enough to do it by himself.

"I'm glad you came back…" he whispered.

"I made you a promise. I'm sorry I wasn't able to be there sooner. You needed me and I wasn't here for you." Jon said and Rickon wanted so much to believe him.

"You came back, brother. Nymeria said you would."

"You doubted me?" Jon gasped, detaching himself from Rickon as if he had struck him.

"I saw you, Jon. I saw how happy you were and you didn't seem to miss me. Not like I missed you."

"Oh, Rickon… I wish I could explain… I wish I could tell you all that I feel right now, but I don't want things to change between us. All I can say right now is that I love you. So… So much, little brother. And I never want you to doubt this. You will always be my brother whom I love with all my heart." Rickon could feel how conflicted Jon was and while part of him was still doubtful because of what he saw, he also wanted to console him. After all, he was there with him.

"And you'll always be mine, brother. No matter your blood."

Jon's gaze turned from apologetic to horrified as he understood the meaning beyond Rickon's words.

"You…"

"Heard things about you, Aye, I did."

"How?"

"Bran… He told me everything he knew. About your birth."

"And he didn't see fit to tell it to me? The concerned one? Who else did he tell?" Jon asked as he started pacing.

"Only me, brother. Only me."

"Is that why you were… Why you warged to see me?" Jon's anger was palpable and Rickon knew it would only get worse when he would explain what had happened that day.

"Not quite. I didn't believe it at first, and then I felt so angry he would do this to me. He… Told me that I should be the one telling you about your origins because he saw you choosing your other family instead of us."

"So he played another of his mind games that you warned me about, this time on you?" Jon's pacing intensified as Rickon nodded. "What in the Seven Hells is wrong with him? What is he playing at? And why the fuck didn't he tell me?"

"There's more, Jon. There's more and I fear for all of our family since it happened."

"Davos sent me word of an incident…" Jon started, his icy tone making Rickon shake his head.

"It… I reacted badly when he told me. He kept calling you our cousin but you're not, you're not. You'll always be my brother, you hear me, Jon? Always!" he insisted and saw Jon smile with relief. "I don't fucking care who sired you. You're the only one who never gave up on me and I will never give up on you. And to hear him speak about you so unemotionally, so detached when the words he said were killing me… It made me explode and so I punched him. I hurt him and I initiated the fight, I know I shouldn't have, but… The way he responded to it…" the words were hurried by the end, Rickon feeling his emotions rise, and yet compared to the look on Jon's face, he was unemotional. His brother's anger was clear in his expression and then his words.

"What happened? What did he fucking do?"

"He sent a flock of ravens to attack me." Rickon answered, almost reluctantly.

Jon's steely eyes were full of rage and for a moment, he felt unsure of continuing his tale. He didn't want Jon to confront Bran, not without knowing how their other brother would react.

"I've never seen something like this, Jon. I knew he was a warg. I knew it, but he attacked me while controlling a whole damn flock of ravens! If Ghost hadn't been there, if he hadn't stopped him, I… "

"Did he do it deliberately? Tell me he didn't, because I swear to the Gods…" Jon almost growled.

"He said he didn't but I don't believe him. I… ever since it happened, I've felt him nearby. I felt his presence every time I was sharing the mind of an animal. As if he was watching my every move and warning me not to do anything stupid. There was always a raven nearby. And I think… Nevermind." He did not want to say out loud that he had feared Bran had entered the dragon's mind to kill him, but his suspicion was strong. Why he kept protecting Bran was beyond himself, unless it was truly Jon that he was trying to protect?

Jon didn't seem to know how to respond, but he could see that his older brother was steaming in fury.

"You are bound to Ghost, now. Aren't you?" Rickon asked and he nodded. "Talk to him. Let his instincts guide you and you will see why I cannot trust Bran."

"I will. I have to talk to him to understand why he thought it would be a better idea to tell you about me before I knew." Jon said through clenched teeth.

"I don't want you to. We need to be careful with him, Jon. He was also the one to tell Sansa to take the lead when you weren't there, saying it was because we needed the Vale forces." Rickon added, seeing his brother getting angrier. "I was in Ghost, I heard everything. Sansa didn't want to take over. She confided in me thinking I was Ghost. I don't know what happened next but I guess Bran's words forced her hand on it. Just like he did to you when you had to leave."

"I really have to talk to him." Jon said with a resolute nod.

"Aye, but first, I want to know how you feel." Rickon said, surprising Jon. "Do you want to talk about…"

"Not now. I feel relieved that I don't have to hide it from you, that you consider me your brother still. I don't want to… This… To change anything between you and me. But Sansa and Arya… The Lords of the North… The rest of the realm… Daenerys… I do not know how they'll react to this and it could very well be something detrimental to us…"

"Fuck them all, brother. Really. Your name doesn't change who you are, who you fight for, and who you love unless you let it change you. Do not let it change you." Rickon insisted.

"Do you… Do you know my name? My real one?" He asked almost timidly and Rickon shook his head. "Your father, Lord Stark hid it from me and I fear I might never know how my mother named me."

"If I'm still your brother, isn't Father -"

"That's not the same, Rickon. He lied to me and that is something I cannot forgive so easily, something I don't want to forgive, for now at least."

"Then don't. I won't forgive Bran for telling me, so I won't hold it against you if you hate Father at this point. As long as you still see us as your Pack, I don't fucking care about the rest. You do, do you?"

"I will never stop seeing you as my brother, I swear." the look his brother gave him was even truer than his words, Rickon felt.

"What do you want to do? Do you want us to tell the others?"

"No, not before I've talked to Dany. And to Arya." Jon said firmly before sighing loudly, all trace of certainty now gone from his face. "I… I do not think it would be a good idea to talk about this to anyone else before the war against the Dead. I fear it will bring too much turmoil, too many questions that we will not be able to answer… There is already so much dissension, and I feel…"

"We will do as you wish, Jon. I personally don't care about it, but it is your story to tell. You'll talk about it when you think it best."

"I'm… The repercussions on the realm would be too much to bear. People have been told for years that the Rebellion… That my mother… People died because of it, because they have been lied to, and a lot of them will not perceive the truth of my birth as a good thing."

"You fear they will be offended? By who you are? Or that they will use it against you?"

"More against Dany. Look at how the Knights of the Vale reacted to her winning the war against Cersei Lannister. They think her a foreign invader, still. I do not know how she will react to that truth either."

"You love her," Rickon said, his heart clenching once more as he could feel his brother's distress. The way Jon looked at him while being unable to voice his feelings made the truth even more clear to him.

"There are so many things going on in my head right now… What if she hates me? What if Arya decides I'm not her brother anymore? What if Sansa… No, I cannot trust Sansa with this. I want to know the truth, about my parents, about myself, but I don't want my truth to change anything and yet I know it will. For now, I'm just trying to understand why we've been lied to all of our lives."

"Speaking about Sansa, where is she?" Rickon frowned.

"Probably with Littlefinger and the Knights of the Vale," Jon answered harshly. "I will need to talk to her as well. What she did when you were… It's unacceptable."

"Don't get me wrong, if I had the strength right now, I would tell her to get her act together. She's not been the best sister to any of us, but when I was in Ghost… I saw how broken she was…" Rickon said softly.

"That doesn't fucking excuse everything, Brother. We tried to understand her, we tried to keep her involved, and look what happened! She almost cost us the Free Folk's help with her bowing down in front of the South!"

Rickon was about to retort that Jon had also bowed down to a Southern force, but he knew it would get them nowhere.

"Then we don't let her be involved anymore, but we don't turn our backs on her. She's family. She is! She was at my side even when Arya gave her a hard time for it. She has lost her way, and I'm not against punishment for what she did, but I will not throw her out of the Pack."

"She needs to step away from any political involvement regarding the North." Jon said leaving no room for doubt.

"I agree."

"If she doesn't -"

"Then we will force her to do so." Rickon answered resolutely.

"Littlefinger?"

"I've fucking had it with that fucker."

"Good." Jon smiled wolfishly.

They got interrupted with a knock and he saw Arya walking back into the room with two servants carrying a huge pot of stew that was placed in front of the roaring fire.

"Rabbit stew. Great!" Rickon smiled brightly while his sister rolled her eyes.

"That's all we have for now. With winter here, we have to make a lot of concessions, your grace." Arya explained smirking at him and he was happy to see her so carefree.

"That's perfect. Truly. Rabbit stew is my favorite. It reminds me of Osha." Rickon said.

"It's better than the one we had at the Wall." Jon chimed in.

"You know there will be a celebration for your waking up and your arrival, right?" Arya said, looking at him as she filled a bowl and handed it to him.

"No celebrations!" Rickon and Jon said in concert, laughing when they saw their sister's smirk grow larger.

They ate and talked, the three of them, catching up about things they had missed and things that they needed to know about the South. Rickon was sad to see Arya refusing to send for Sansa, but he didn't push it much. He was more than happy to simply spend some time with two members of his pack.

Winterfell, 303 AC.

Sansa Stark.

"This is unacceptable!"

"The Gall of the Bastard!"

"We need to do something about it, and now, my Lady." Lord Royce demanded.

"Jon is the King's true Regent, my Lord." Sansa replied, trying to keep her relief to herself. "The Lords of the North will follow his lead and there's nothing I can do about it."

"We've named you Regent, Lady Sansa."

"And I thank you for your support, but I told you I would not usurp my brother. Now that he's back, I have no right to intervene in his choices. Moreover, it looks like the Lords of the North were already trying to depose me as King Rickon's Regent. Do you truly think they will listen to me now?"

"This is preposterous! You cannot possibly be willing to follow another abomination -" Lord Royce said and she interrupted him before he could finish.

"Did you just say 'another abomination', Lord Royce? I hope for your sake that you are not talking about King Rickon and Jon Snow when you so candidly use such terms!" Sansa cut him off, her voice as frosty as the simmering rage she felt that instant.

"My Lady, have you seen those scars? Have you heard what he's said?" Lyn Corbray intervened. "This is unnatural and wrong on so many levels. The Gods -"

"If the Gods minded, Lord Corbray, then my brothers would not be alive as we speak. It is a blessing, two blessings that they have bestowed upon us so we could prepare for what is to come."

"You cannot be serious? As a follower of the Seven, to see this as anything but dark magic -"

"You better not end this sentence, my Lord. Another insult to one of my kin and any protection and guest rights you benefit from will be revoked. I understand that you're not pleased by the outcome of this meeting and I'm deeply sorry for the inconvenience. Now that the Regent, the rightful one has spoken and has been clear in his statements we must abide by his wishes. And given what he said earlier about Daenerys Targaryen winning the war, I think you have other matters to discuss than the presence of the Free Folk in the North. Lord Baelish?" Sansa said, looking to Littlefinger.

"Lady Sansa?"

"I trust you to talk to your Lords and to make them see reason. We all need clearer heads to talk about the future, be it of the North or the Vale. I find myself exhausted and in need of some calm. With your leave…"

She didn't wait for any of them to answer and walked away, ignoring the shouts of indignation of Yohn Royce and the muffled insults of Lyn Corbray. She could see that Littlefinger was angry, that he hadn't counted on Jon arriving and opposing him, but she didn't care. She was free from the Vale's influence, and she could breathe again, at least for the moment.

She knew she would have to face Jon soon, and she feared that she would not be able to make him understand her actions or perspective. Part of her hoped that his time in the South would have shown him just how duplicitous people could be and how they needed to be more cunning if they wanted to stand a chance against them. She did what she could to keep the Lords of the Vale there, against the opinions of almost everyone that she cared about. She did so because Bran had told her so and she trusted him. As she walked to her rooms and her gaze locked with the Hound's disappointed one, she was reminded of their last talk before she had started avoiding him.

" What the fuck are you doing?" he asked as he caught her after her visit to see Rickon.

" What do you mean?"

" You're letting the knights of the fucking Vale walk all over you and use you? Fucking Littlefinger? And for what?" his angry tone was something she remembered from King's Landing, though if anything it seemed he was angrier now for some reason.

" Bran said,"

" You're going against your fucking King's wishes. Do you want your fucking sister to fucking kill you? Because make no mistake, I know a fucking murderer when I see one and she's one of them!"

" We need the Vale if we want to survive. Bran -"

" Forget about your fucking brother! Do you fear Littlefinger that much? If he's threatening you, I can -"

" He saved me more than once. More than you did!" she knew she was being unfair to him, that he had tried once and she had rebuffed him, but she couldn't let him get into her head. Not when she needed to stay strong and firm.

The look he'd given her then, similar to the one he was giving her now, had broken her heart and hurt her still. She wanted to go to him, to tell him that she was sorry for having pushed him away, but instead, she shook her head and went to her room. She was feeling emotionally drained and knew that it was only the beginning of what was to be an awful day.

She was prepared when Jon came to her, she had thought he would come sooner but she had been waiting for him. The fact that he was coming so late, not caring if she would be presentable or sleeping, told her that she needed to brace herself for a hard scolding. He might have already listened to all the Lords, Ladies, and the men and women of the Free Folk's recrimination against her.

"Before you start berating me, I…" she began only for Jon to not allow her to continue.

"No, Sansa. You do not get to say anything before I tell you so." he stopped her and she felt offended by the way he talked to her.

She knew she was in the wrong, but still, it hurt her to see her brother look at her with such disdain in his eyes.

"I do not know what to make of you. Truly. I wanted to trust you, to give you another chance after betraying me and the North during the battle for Winterfell. Every single time you tried to undermine Rickon or to steer him in the wrong direction, I tried to find excuses for you. You were raised as a Southern lady, you would truly learn how to become a Northern one with time, you would see how well Rickon's leadership had been received and you would fully support him. What in the Seven Hells possessed you to give a seat to a fucking Valeman on a Northern Council?"

"Bran said -"

"For fuck's sake, Sansa! You know damn well this has nothing to do with Bran! You wanted to name Royce as soon as Rickon accepted your idea of a Council! You wanted someone to agree with you because you knew you would not get your say in how the North would be ruled."

"Because you and Rickon wouldn't listen to me, but -"

"And why do you think we didn't? Because you wanted to impose on us Southern leadership. A freaking council like the small council of the South. Thank the Gods that those Rickon picked are not as cunning and duplicitous as Littlefinger and his kind! A bunch of selfish fucks who only want a power they do not deserve and who wish to rise higher than they should ever be allowed to! When Arya told us what they demanded, what you accepted on behalf of Rickon… You've made a lot of people angry, Sansa."

"I know and I am willing to accept whatever punishment you deem necessary," she said, making Jon frown.

"Is this a mummery? A ruse to soften my heart so you would get away with this?"

"I deserved that," she mumbled, deeply hurt by his words. "I was trying to buy us time, to make the Knights of the Vale stay longer, at least until your return, because Bran said that we would not win without them."

"Did you have to turn the whole North against you to do so? Was it worth it?"

"I did what I had to do with the weapons I had. I am not a soldier like you or an assassin like Arya. Politics is what I know best. Playing the game of the south is what I know." she retorted.

"You're hardly a good player of even that game, Sansa. Littlefinger has had you doing his bidding for how long, now? Marrying Ramsay, spitting on Robb and your mother's memory, on all the northern lives lost during the Red Wedding? He should have been dead. You should have killed him long ago for what he did to you. This would have been the way of the North. Like you did when you fed Ramsay to his dogs. Yet he is still breathing because you allowed him to, for what? The only thing I can say is that you're lucky our little brother believes that you have been manipulated."

"Rickon? Rickon said that? He is awake?" she said, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

"He is resting at the moment, but aye, he is."

"He is well? Truly?"

"Aye, sister, he is." Jon said, putting a hand on her shoulder, the first contact they had since he came back.

"Thank the Gods…" she cried, and she could feel her brother's hold on her relax. "I'm relieved he's better, and… I am glad you came back safe and sound as well."

He nodded and took one step away from her, though the distance between them seemed bigger to Sansa.

"As I said, Rickon is convinced you didn't mean any harm, that your views are twisted by your links with Littlefinger and… " he shook his head and she frowned, confused. "This is why we decided to pull you away from the Council. You are not to be involved in any political matters as of now. If you refuse to comply, if we hear anything about you trying to mess with the North again, then…"

"You will make me leave?" she asked fearfully.

"This is not something we want to do, Sansa. But at this point, this is the only choice you have. Either you follow and support Rickon as you should, or you leave with your Southern friends."

"Does Rickon know about this? That you want to throw away his sister from her home?" She asked angrily.

"You can ask him if you want. Contrary to you, Sansa, I am always upfront with what I say and I never hide anything from my King or my family."

His words were like a knife jabbing at her heart and she collapsed on her bed, still in shock from his ultimatum. Of course, she understood their position and she knew that if she was not a member of their family, then she would have already been exiled from the North or worse. As to her horror, they thought her a traitor to their cause, and the only thing preventing them from taking her head would be that they would not want to become kinslayers. She would have done the same if Jon had been the one to commit such a crime, but that didn't make it any less hurtful.

"The choice is yours, Sister. I truly pray you would prove me wrong this time and that Rickon is right in believing in you." Jon said, lingering on the threshold and giving her a look that seemed almost pleading.

She nodded as her brother's last words gave her hope. He seemed willing to give her a second chance, as was Rickon, and their proposal would free her from whatever hold the Vale had on her. There were things she needed to say to Jon, to Rickon. Things she wasn't proud about but still needed to confess so she would start over in building a relationship with them. But she was too exhausted by her confrontation with Jon to do anything for the moment.

She woke up later with resolve and renewed faith. The path she had chosen would be tumultuous, to say the least, but she was set on making it happen. She hoped Jon was right and that Rickon truly believed in her, and the determination it gave her to talk to her King about her decision was immense.

Before she could go to her brother, however, the past she was determined to let go of proved itself unwilling to leave her alone. As soon as she opened the door, she came face to face with the ominous-looking Littlefinger, accompanied by Lyn Corbray.

"You and I need to talk, Sansa." Baelish said sternly.

"Can't this wait? I was -"

"No. For too long I waited, way longer than someone like me should have been expected to. We need to talk and we need to do it right now."

Winterfell 303 AC.

Jon Snow.

The words he'd shared with his brother were fresh in his mind as he made his way to the Crypts to see his mother's statue once more. As was the argument he'd had with Sansa. His sister viewed the North almost like a southerner would and hadn't yet realized that what worked there, didn't work here. Lords and Ladies of the North didn't play the same games that those of the South did and so those games didn't work on them. Oh, they could be just as ambitious and grasping as any Southern house when they wanted and could be duplicitous too. It just wasn't their natural state as it was with those in the South.

Being around Lady Olenna, Tyrion, and Lady Ellaria, he'd seen it now first hand, and his sister would probably fit right in and be adept in a Southern Court. The North preferred actions to pretty words, fighting to politics. Its people judged you by what you did and not by what you said. Sansa to them was more Southern than Northern, 'even her gods were wrong' he'd heard Lyanna Mormont say. She deferred too much to the whims and wishes of Littlefinger and the Knights of the Vale and so she alienated the Northern Lords and Ladies because of it. He'd tried to get her to see that, tried to get her to understand that in trying to send the Free Folk away, she had crossed a line that some would be loath to forgive her for, he'd tried and failed.

At one point he'd been certain that she was about to name him a bastard and had she done so, then he may have lost his composure completely and told her who he truly was. Instead, he'd left her with a warning and walked away, no he'd run almost. That he'd run to the crypts was no great surprise and as he entered it and made his way to his mother's statue, he felt somewhat different. The emotions were still there, but they had been joined by a resolve, a strength of will and purpose that he'd not felt many times in his life. An acceptance of who he was and what his place was in the world, finally.

"I know not what to do, mother." he said softly "I see them all as my siblings still. Robb was ever my brother. Arya, gods, I'm finally seeing her as the girl she was once more. Sansa is misguided and hurt and I want so much to help her, truly I do, but….and as for Rickon. He fears losing me, losing what we have, and the only brother that he sees as one. I… what am I to do."

There were no answers, no words of wisdom spoken to him, and yet he welcomed the silence as much as he welcomed looking at the statue itself. He felt Ghost move to him as he stood there and had they been anywhere else but in front of his mother's statue, he may have tried to warg and test the bond that had grown between them. Instead, he just stood looking at the statue and tried to imagine what it would have been like had she lived. It was being so lost in these thoughts that stopped him from seeing Ghost digging at the base of the statue for as long as he did. Jon moved angrily to the white wolf to make him stop when he did notice him, only for him to feel the voice in his head telling him that he needed to see.

"What is it, Ghost?" he asked as he knelt down and began to help the wolf dig.

It took some time until he found the chest. Someone had buried it deep enough that it would never have been discovered by accident and as he took it out, he wished for nothing more than to open it. Unsheathing Longclaw he crashed the blade down on the lock and watched as it broke, the chest lid now lying half-open. Kneeling down, he opened the lid and looked inside and was soon shutting the lid firmly and lifting it in his hands.

He hurried from the crypts to his room and locked the door behind him before moving to the bed and placing the chest on top of it and opening it once more. Inside was a large cloak and it was only when he took it out that he realized what it was. The grey wolves had been joined by small red dragons and the cloak itself though mainly grey was tinged with black and red. How he kept his composure as he looked at it was beyond him.

"Mother." he said softly as he brushed his face against his mother's cloak and felt its softness. Images flashed through his head of a silver-haired man placing it on a dark-haired woman's shoulders.

Laying it carefully on the bed, he moved back to the chest and looked inside. There were two small wooden figures that had been carved. One was a wolf and the other he could only name as a dragon. Holding them in his hands he wondered if it was his father or mother who had carved them and found that in the end, it mattered not. The last thing inside was what looked like a book of some sort and he quickly took it out to open it, thoughts that his mother had read this book swimming in his head. As he read the first few pages he almost couldn't believe his good fortune. It wasn't a book his mother had read, it was a journal that she had written in.

Why can't they see, why do they hate me so? I'll not marry that man, no matter how much Father or Ned wish it so.

He skimmed through the pages, reading small passages here and there and gaining an insight into his mother's thoughts with each one that he read.

I feel a sense of excitement I've not known ever in my life before. The greatest tourney in the history of the realm. Even the Prince himself set to attend and I find myself eager to see what a dragon looks like.

Those idiotic southerners think they can attack one of my father's bannermen and get away with it. They were lucky that I only had a wooden sword, someone needs to teach them a lesson about honor and humility.

My brother is so stupid, so what if the song brought tears to my eyes, how could it not. Never have I heard a song sung so sweetly before and to hear Jenny's tale given its true due, mine were not the only eyes that leaked.

Three of them, three of them I beat and me a mere slip of a girl according to my fool of an oldest brother. Gods. Brandon can be such an idiot at times.

Never have I been kissed like that, never have I known the feelings that well in my chest when I think of him or when I picture his dark indigo eyes and his shining silver hair.

An adventure, it's like a tale from the books. The damsel in distress, the handsome prince who rescues her from those who'd seek her harm. The love they shared was good and true. Is this my life? Can I be so fortunate? Do the gods really favor me so?

I feel the life as it grows inside of me, the babe I long to hold in my arms. The son that my prince thinks will be a daughter. Oh, how I long to prove him wrong. How I long to look into our son's eyes and see whether they're mine or his father's. I shall be the best mother that any babe ever had, the true love that I feel for him will know no bounds. My Babe, My Son, My Song of Ice and Fire.

He could read no more. Each page had many more words written on them and yet he could read no more. Jon didn't cry, he sobbed. Like a newborn babe or an errant child who'd been punished, he sobbed in loud heart-wrenching cries and he did so for more than an hour or more. Eventually, he lay on the bed wrapped up in his mother's cloak and slept, glad he'd locked the door when the knocking came to it.

After gathering each of his mother's things and placing them carefully back in the chest, he moved it and hid it under some things in the corner before then answering the door.

"Did you fall asleep, Jon Snow?" Tormund asked with a smirk on his face.

"Aye, time to eat is it?"

"Aye. Come the king has joined us, it would not do for his brother not to do likewise.

He ate and made as merry as he could, laughing and japing with Rickon and Arya while trying not to glare at Bran or look to see where Sansa was sitting. His sister was nowhere in sight for some reason. Retiring early for the night, he asked Rickon to join him on the morrow in the Wolfswood. Some of the Free Folk had arranged a hunt and having his brother join them would go down well, and give them a chance to talk away from any prying ears. Sleep was easy enough to come by and his dreams were of a tourney and of a girl being named as the Queen of Love and Beauty. The day the smiles died he'd heard it referred to, but in his dream, he could see his mother's smiling face.

When he woke and had washed, he hid the chest away and resolved to read more of the journal later. He made his way to the Great Hall and broke his fast with Arya and some of the Northern Lords and Ladies, agreeing to speak to them on Daenerys when he came back from the day's hunt. There was no sign of his brother and while this concerned him, Arya soon told him that Rickon was speaking to some of the younger lords and ladies that he'd become friendly with. His brother invited them and some of the Free Folk children he was closest to, to join them on the hunt and so Jon did the same with Arya who was only too keen to do so.

"Someone's eager." he whispered to his sister as they walked out of the keep and saw Rickon and others already mounted.

"Aye, as am I." Arya said as she quickly mounted and when Jon did likewise, he nodded to his brother and to Ghost and they were soon riding out the Hunter's Gate and into the Wolfswood.

The party wasn't the true hunting party, they'd gone on ahead of them earlier as they were far too large and loud to be able to hunt with any great success. It was more a pleasure ride of sorts, a way to get out of the confines of the keep and all those there and just simply enjoy all the North had to offer. Along with his brother and sister, Lyanna Mormont, Ned Umber, Alys Karstark, Larence Snow, and their guards had joined them. Jon rode between Arya and Rickon with the others close by and Tormund, Brienne, and Podrick riding behind.

"When I was no older than you, Lord Stark brought Robb and myself for our first ride in the Wolfswood" Jon said looking at Rickon and seeing that Arya and the others all listened just as eagerly as he was "He named it a hunt, though it was not. We were far too young for such and didn't truly know our arses from our elbows." Jon said to loud laughs "But just seeing this." he pointed to the trees and the snow "Just knowing such a place existed and lay no more than a few feet from the gates of Winterfell was almost magical to us at the time."

"Did you go on true hunts, Lord Snow?" Ned Umber asked eagerly.

"Aye, in time. And it's Jon, Ned, I'm no lord." he said as Rickon frowned at his choice of words.

It was true, he was no lord, what he was though he wasn't sure. A prince's bastard was still a bastard after all.

"Father used to tell me when I had reached my one and ten nameday he'd bring me with him on one of his hunts." Rickon said wistfully.

"I'd never have been allowed to join you." Arya said softly.

"Both of you should have fostered on Bear Island, my mother brought Dacey with her when she was even younger than me." Lyanna said.

"Aye, same with Lord Glover for me." Larence added.

Jon then listened as the Free Folk boys and girls said they had been hunting for years, even though it was only rabbits and smaller prey.

Riding with those with him, he soon had them laughing even more as he told tales from his childhood. Arya joined in to confirm or deny certain things he said and added her own tales of growing up at Winterfell. By the time they stopped for something to eat, all of those with them had spoken of what it was like to grow up in their own particular parts of the North and with their parents or foster parents. Jon noticed how Lyanna Mormont, Alys, Larence, and Ned all grew a little sad when they spoke of fathers and mothers that were no longer here.

"We believe in the Old Gods." he said as they sat around a fire he'd started "We believe they see us through the trees and watch over us. All of us have lost fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters, or simply people we care about. But we carry them here." he said touching his heart "We remember them here." he said touching his head "And they look down on each and every one of us. As they look down on all of you, I know they'd be proud of what you've become. Take comfort in that and in knowing that the love you have for them and them for you, that can never die."

After eating and before they continued on their ride, he looked to Arya and then to Rickon, whispering to the former and bidding the latter to join him and Ghost. He told the guard to stay back and made his way to a small clearing some distance off.

"Ask me those questions you wish to, brother." he said looking to Rickon.

"Are you going to leave?"

"I….No."

"What about the Dragon Queen?"

"I….my place is by your side."

"But you love her." Rickon said softly.

"I… I don't know what I feel….I believe I love her, aye. I….I loved someone before, a Free Folk woman, Ygritte."

"Tormund spoke of her. Said she was fierce and Kissed by Fire." Rickon said and Jon smiled softly at the description and its aptness.

"She was… I was asked if I loved her and the best answer I could come up with was that it was close enough that I'd not shame her by naming it different. What I felt for her and what I feel for Dany… I can't compare the two. So aye, I love her, but…."

"Anything after the word but is horseshit, Jon." Rickon said, making Jon chuckle.

"Aye, that's true. My place is by my king's side, by my brother's side. Love is the death of duty, brother, a wise man told me that once." Jon said thinking about Aemon and wishing he'd known what he did now while his great uncle many times removed had still breathed.

"So you'll stay because it's your duty because I'm your duty." Rickon said annoyed as Jon moved to him and knelt down so he could look into his brother's eyes.

"Never doubt my love for you, brother. Whatever else you may, never doubt that." he said and Rickon nodded.

He stood back up and the two of them looked off into the distance in silence. Neither of them was sure what it was they wished to say and he was surprised when Rickon spoke first.

"Do you want me to name you a Stark?" his brother asked, catching him by surprise.

There had been a time when he'd wished for nothing more. When he'd wanted to be named a Stark almost as much as he'd wished to know the truth of his mother. Had his uncle but offered it to him, then he'd have been happier than he'd have dared to dream. There had been times after Robb had been named King in the North that Jon had imagined a raven coming to the Wall and freeing him of his oaths and naming him true. Rickon had even offered it once and only that the timing had been wrong or he'd have been named as Jon Stark today. Now though.

"No. I'm not a Stark, nor do I wish to be. If her grace wishes to give me my father's name then I'll accept it. Otherwise, I'll stay a Snow, no, a Sand now I suppose." he said with a half-laugh "But I cannot accept the name of my uncle's house."

"Why?"

"Because how I feel about him hasn't been resolved yet, and it's not who I am. Snow, Sand, Stark, Targaryen, my name matters not. What matters is what I feel in my heart and in my heart, I am your brother. Nothing changes that, nothing."

"Have you spoken to Sansa, Bran?"

"About this?" he asked before he saw Rickon shake his head "I spoke to Sansa. Told her what we discussed and that she had a choice to make. She is either with the Pack or against it, if it's the latter then she can leave and go south for this is no place for her."

"And if she wishes to be one of us?" Rickon asked worriedly.

"Then she will be."

"Bran?"

"I've not spoken to him. I don't know what to say and fear the answers he may give to the questions I may ask. I fear he'll not be truthful."

"He won't be."

"Then he can face the same choice as Sansa. He's either with us or against us, brother."

"I don't think he's with us, Jon." Rickon said firmly and Jon nodded.

"Come we should join the others." he said and Rickon moved to him and wrapped his arms around him, Jon softly brushing his hand on his brother's back and realizing that for all he'd grown, he was still a boy, a young boy who'd lost far too much.

As they walked back to the horses he felt Rhaegal in his head, the Green Dragon flying over lands to the east of them. He felt his longing for his mother's arrival and it fed into Jon's own. When he mounted his horse he looked to Arya and offered her a reassuring smile, something that Rickon did too. He leaned forward and whispered he'd speak to her later and knew he had to tell her the truth of who he was.

In time he'd not be able to hide it from anyone in the North, for now, he could at least tell those he trusted. Soon enough they'd see him on Rhaegal and he'd have to explain that while he was a bastard still, he was not the bastard they believed him to be. Yet despite the trepidation he felt over this knowledge, he felt something even more keenly. She'd be coming North soon, he'd see her again and as they rode he didn't even notice that his fingers touched his lips or the smile he wore on his face when he did so. Nor did he see his brother as he looked at him.

Who he was would change a lot of things. How the North saw him, how his sisters saw him, and mayhap even how Dany saw him. It could be that him being her kin may mean the end of them before they'd even begun. She may not wish to be with him in that way and were that to be so, then the words he spoke to Rickon would be far easier to live up to. He found that he prayed it would not, that just as when he'd been but a boy, he wished once more. Nor for a mother or a name, but for acceptance. Just as he had accepted that he was in love with a woman who by law and blood was his aunt, he hoped she'd do the same in regards to him. Love was the death of duty, but without love, you may as well be dead.

Winterfell, 303 AC.

Rickon Stark.

The time he spent with those he now considered as his pack was truly a needed one and he'd been glad to be strong enough to attend. His legs were still weak from his days abed but he was happy to spend more time with his friends and family. He was sad that his brother and sister hadn't invited Sansa. While he was incredibly frustrated at her for not standing up for herself and the North as she should have, he'd understood that she had been stuck in her beliefs. Rickon was set on seeing her quickly to show her that he still wanted her as part of the family and that he hoped she would make the right decision. The more she felt herself a lone wolf, the more she could be manipulated against them. Yet while Jon seemed to understand his views, probably thanks to sharing his thoughts with Ghost, Arya was a giant pain in his almost eleven nameday's old arse.

Given what he had put his sister through, he would not argue much with her on the subject. He hoped that Nymeria's presence would soon soften her views of things. The direwolf and her pack were not too far away, resting in the Barrows where they had found some prey to feed on, and would probably be there in a day or two. He could feel the wolves' excitement as well as their shock as it was their first time seeing snow, and Rickon chuckled when he saw the younger ones play in it. It reminded him of his friends in the Wolsfwood earlier that day.

His little talk with Jon stuck in his mind when they rode back to Winterfell. He watched his brother smile absentmindedly while talking to Arya and knew who Jon's thoughts were turned to. Rickon's heart was still wounded by the way Jon indirectly told him that if he wasn't doing his duty by staying by his side, he would not hesitate to leave with Daenerys. Oh, he knew Jon was truthful when he said he loved him, but that kind of love was different from what he felt for Daenerys and mayhaps he was just too young to understand the differences. He had never been in love with a girl and didn't want to be either, he thought and yet found his eyes drawn to Lyanna Mormont all the same, quickly turning away before he was caught.

"He's changed," he heard the voice say and he frowned as he turned back to Lyanna, who was looking in the same direction as him. "Your brother. There's something different in him."

"I feel it too." he admitted, not wanting to raise suspicions by changing the subject quickly. "Speaking about brothers, I heard you went pretty hard on Bran during the last meeting?"

Lyanna rolled her eyes and Rickon couldn't help but laugh.

"You know that I don't like him. The way he behaved with all your family is very telling about his heart. He doesn't care about anything unless it could be useful against the army of the dead."

"You're right, but still, I would have loved to see it. Did his emotionless arse even react to you cursing him out?"

"You wish! I don't think anything would make him change his creepy expression, even if he was bitten in the arse he would still look just as fucking creepy."

"Well, in fact… Ghost bit him once and he almost soiled himself because of the pain," Rickon said, shuddering at the thought of what had happened that day.

"Interesting… So he feels pain…" Lyanna said contemplatively.

"You're not planning on poking holes into Bran's body, are you?"

"Bah! You know me too well, it's not even funny." she replied and he laughed heartily.

"I'd prefer you stay away from him,"

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