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

"I won't hurt him… much…"

"It's not for him that I'm scared, Lyanna." he retorted seriously. "Something is wrong with him. The less you talk to him, the better."

Lyanna nodded, frowning, and he knew she was trying to guess what had happened to have him scared of Bran, but he would not risk her by telling her the truth of the Godswood incident. As Nymeria said, she was part of his pack now and he cared deeply for her, even if he would never say it out loud in fear she would mistake it for courting.

"We'll need to talk, all of us. The Dragon Queen will be here soon." she then said.

"I know… Jon told me you've asked him about the battle of King's Landing."

"She hasn't burned anyone but the Ironborn. If anything, it would make her beloved here." Lyanna smirked.

"You're worried about her taking the North by force?" he asked.

"We all are. We would not stand a chance if she did."

"But I don't think she will…"

"How can you be so sure?" she insisted.

Rickon turned to look at his brother, who was caught in a snowball fight with some of the youngest children from the Free Folk and Arya, and he remembered his last true conversation with the Dragon Queen.

"You're seriously refusing the Crown for my brother's sake?" he had asked again, and the woman in front of him smirked playfully.

"Probably as much as you seriously contemplated kneeling for your brother's sake."

Ser Davos was waiting for them when they arrived back at Winterfell and Rickon was surprised to hear music coming from the Great Hall when they went to the stables. He sent his smirking sister a knowing glare as she put her hand up in defense.

"Do not look at me, I am not responsible for any feast." Arya said loudly.

"The Lords of the North have respected your wishes. The Free Folk, however… Well, they did not kneel. You do not want to piss them off, right, Your Grace?" Davos said, amused.

"What about the Knights of the Vale?" he asked.

"Gone, all of them. But I fear we will have to call them back."

"Why is that? They made their choice and they will have to live with the consequences of their actions."

"We received a raven, a few moments after they left. From Queen Daenerys and addressed to the King in the North."

"And what does it say?" Lyanna asked as Rickon grabbed the missive and began to read it.

To the King of the North, Rickon Stark.

Part of our agreement was fulfilled on your side with your brother helping us get rid of Cersei Lannister's hold over King's Landing and the rest of the South.

It is now time for me, as Queen in the South, to fulfill mine.

My Hand, Lady Olenna Tyrell, has sent a shipment of provisions from the Reach to Sea Dragon Point to fill your supplies in preparation for my force's arrival.

Another shipment will be sent along with them to White Harbor with my dragons.

I will, after my coronation, travel with my dragons to Winterfell, where I will ask the Knights of the Vale to confirm their allegiance to my rule, as their Liege Lord would have already done so by then.

I ask you to pass on my best wishes to your brother, King Rickon, for without him I'd not have been able to fulfill my agreement with you.

I look forward to seeing him, as well as you, your family, the Lords and Ladies of the North, and the Free Folk, and I wish you all good fortune until we meet again.

Queen Daenerys Targaryen

Queen of the South.

Jon's silly smile as he read over his shoulder the not-so-subtle message directed to him made Rickon shake his head. It was now obvious that his brother wasn't able to hide his feelings for the Queen and the king wondered how the Lords of the North would react to it.

Davos rejoiced that they would not have to worry about supplying food to Daenerys' armies, and Lyanna explained that most of the Lords feared that they would have to bend the knee because of the lack of supplies at the end of the war.

Later that night.

Rickon's mind reeled throughout the feast. He thought about how they had scrambled to put Winterfell back in shape after the battle against the Boltons and how they were still recovering from it. They would undoubtedly suffer more losses facing the army of the dead and they would be vulnerable at the end of the conflict, should they survive it.

"Daenerys will help us, brother," Jon whispered to him when he voiced his concerns. "She will not allow our people to starve."

"But she might ask for something in exchange…"

"If bending the knee is the price to pay so our people survive, don't you think it is worth the Crown, brother?"

"You would have us kneel to her, then?"

"If there was another way, I would support you fully."

"Would you? Truly?"

"Whatever you choose, brother, I will always be with you."

How was it possible for a heart to break and mend at the same time? Rickon thought as he felt his heart doing just so. Jon's encouraging smile hurt him almost as much as the arrow that killed him, and yet he wanted nothing more than seeing it grow even larger.

They were about to fight for their lives, and Jon had devoted his life to protecting the realms of men. Even after his death, he had done so, and not once had he complained about his fate. He was willing to push his feelings aside and to trust Rickon completely. It was time for Rickon to do the same and to give his brother the reward he deserved.

Winterfell 303 AC.

The Three-Eyed Raven.

Time was a strange thing to experience all at once. Past, present, and future blurring in and out of each other and confusing even him as it did so. That the future was unwritten and the ink not yet dry on it, made seeing it and predicting it a challenge. Never had this been more true than since he'd come back to Winterfell to find that a brother who should be long dead, breathed still, and every breath he took was a ripple that he couldn't predict. Bran felt more anger each time he looked to the future and saw the changes that Rickon wrought, the fates he changed and the lives that were affected by his still being alive. As he looked into the future once again, he saw the worst possible outcome become even more clear and he worried that he'd not be able to change it at all.

Marriage. The little shit thought of nothing worse than marriage to solve his problem and Jon seemed to agree to it.

Why had anyone thought that relying on an eleven namedays boy with abandonment issues would be a good thing?

Nothing that was supposed to happen was going according to what he saw. The constant headaches given by the now multiple possibilities of the future made Bran extremely irritable and his impassive demeanor was hard to maintain, especially tonight as he sought answers and found only the wrong ones.

Rickon's presence made Jon more attentive and almost back to his former self, where his death would have plunged him closer to uncertainty. His failure to save Rickon would have made him cherish them to the point of never questioning them and their attempts to separate him from Daenerys, and the truth of his birth would have shattered the rest of his self-belief. Bran would have convinced Arya that she was too dangerous for Jon and with the right push at the right moment on his part, the sack of King's Landing would have shown the Seven Kingdoms that the dragon wasn't fit to rule them. Jon wouldn't risk Arya and Sansa's safety and would resolve to protect his pack at the cost of his love for his aunt.

But now… Everything had changed, starting with how the wars were supposed to happen. Losing people she cared about in the war for the Dawn, then before the burning of King's Landing would have prompted Daenerys to lose her mind and mistrust everyone. She would be right to, of course, but that to Bran was a moot point. She had already gotten rid of Cersei and Euron, meaning her closest companion would not die when she was supposed to, and that they would come in stronger numbers to face the dead.

The Lords of the North wouldn't even truly argue about joining House Stark and House Targaryen should Rickon express the idea. A proposal to keep the North united through Jon and Daenerys, in exchange for her cooperation during the war against the Dead and the rebuilding afterward would be too good to turn down. For people who claimed that the North Remembered, they would be happy to forget what had led to Robert's Rebellion, or at least to care less about it. Jon would succeed in putting Daenerys in a good light and this would be detrimental to the rest of his plan. For if he wanted a chance to fulfill his destiny, the Dragon Queen had to be at odds with the North and with his family especially.

It annoyed Bran that Sansa hadn't been there to voice her concerns about Daenerys, but given how she was willing to change to appease her cousin and their brother, he guessed she was better where she was. And because of Rickon's desire to make Jon happy, nothing he had planned so far would come to pass.

Samwell Tarly was supposed to play a role in relating the news to Jon from a place of resentment for how his family had been treated, but he became less important when his family had been captured alive. So when he saw the fat coward's fate change, he didn't intervene as he should have. For he thought that at least he would have been useful in regards to Jon if he had wanted to push the Faceless Men's attack on someone from the Dragon Queen's entourage. Again, his plan had been thwarted with Rickon, who thanks to being close to Arya had warned Jon of their involvement in Westeros without truly understanding what their motives were.

Unless he managed to find a flaw, something that could divide the lovely couple before their union, he was doomed to become nothing but a memory stuck under a freaking weirwood just as his predecessor had been. This he could and would not accept. They had lured him by saying that he would fly when their true goal was to bind him to the trees. To keep him there while his family was being massacred and they had the power to stop it. So fly he would, all over Westeros he would soar and no one would stop him from doing so, no one.

When he realized how powerful the Three-Eyed Raven truly was, what he could have prevented but had been too craven to do, Bran felt a huge amount of anger. The Rebellion, all those dead, the War of the Five Kings could all have been stopped if only he had intervened, but he didn't. His father, his mother, and older brother were dead when Bloodraven could have stopped his kin previously.

" But then you would not be born, dear Brandon." Bloodraven had argued in his head. "Your family would not exist as it is. We have to serve the Old Gods and maintain the pact between the First Men and the children. We can only witness history writing itself until the Gods tell us otherwise. The Ink is dry, whenever you feel you wish to intervene, remember this. The Ink is dry."

Someone with such powers should never be made to serve and fly occasionally in search of his replacement. How the ones before him agreed to it, to not get involved in the events of the realm and to stay as puppets to the Children of the Forest as the First Men got slaughtered and the Andals took over, then the Targaryens, he didn't understand. Or at least he didn't until he disobeyed Bloodraven's order and realized why the Night King had been created.

Cowards, the lot of them.

He was about to close his eyes and force himself back into the weirwood to get more answers about the path he needed to use, when he heard his cousin's voice.

"Bran. A word, alone, if you please?" Jon called out

"I was wondering when you would come to me. Aye, brother. We need to talk. Take me to the Godswood."

"No. Not there." Jon said, making Bran frown. "I heard what happened the last time two Stark brothers went there. I'll bring you somewhere else."

Bran nodded, disturbed to be told no as no one else before Jon ever dared do so. Not even Rickon, who preferred avoiding him completely these days.

When they arrived near the crypts, Bran tensed. Had Rickon told Jon about his birth already? No, it couldn't be. Jon wouldn't agree to a union with his aunt if he knew the truth about his birth, would he? He needed to know quickly and warged into a waiting raven near the weirwood to watch what happened.

Lost in his thoughts, Bran didn't realize until he was sitting on the ground that Jon had lifted him from his chair.

"I"m here, now. If you have anything to say to me, anything, I am here and you can do so."

"Rickon told you." he deduced, seeing Jon's angered gaze on him.

"Aye. I want to hear from you, why didn't you come to me when there was plenty of time for you to tell me the truth?"

"You do not trust me. Not like you trust Rickon. Our bond is not strong enough compared to Rickon and yours to make you make the right choices."

"And what would those choices be, pray tell?"

"Not to pursue any relationship with your aunt, else you will lose yourself and our family."

"And how can you be so sure of it? Because you saw it?" Jon asked disdainfully.

"I saw you with her, aye. I saw her change when she discovered the truth of your birth. I saw her start resenting you when she understood that she would lose her throne because of who you are, for many Lords would rally behind you instead of her."

"I'm just a bastard." Jon said, shaking his head.

"No, you are not. Your parents were married in front of the Seven and the Old Gods. Rhaegar's marriage to Elia Martell had been annulled and you are the last trueborn male of House Targaryen. You're the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Then… I am a Targaryen? Not a Sand?" his cousin's disbelief was clear and Bran wished to use that but knew he could not.

"And even if you wed her, she will grow to resent you for people will see you as the King of the Seven Kingdoms when she fought all her life to get where she was. Then the Small Council, the same that had been devoted to her, will push forward the fact that she is barren to make you choose someone else and bid you to set her aside to further your line."

"What… What are you talking about?" Jon frowned and Bran saw it then, the little crack in their relationship. The sliver of uncertainty he could exploit to make Jon bend to his will.

"She cannot have children, Jon. She was cursed by a witch when she was in Essos, while she was married to Khal Drogo and expecting his child. She agreed to use blood magic to keep him alive and it cost her any life that would grow in her womb. Soon this truth will be revealed, when Westeros will wish for an heir, and everyone will soon blame her for her inability to bring one to life. While you, the son of Rhaegar, could have done so without her."

"That makes no sense…"

"Love is sweet, but it doesn't change a man's nature. That is what your mother last said to my father when he pushed her about the betrothal between her and Robert Baratheon." he said, knowing that Jon would be moved by hearing his mother's words, which judging by his softening gaze worked perfectly. "Daenerys Targaryen is a Conqueror, like Aegon before her. Not a Conciliator like Jaehaerys. She made her way in Essos thanks to the Dothraki's brute strength and the Unsullied's unparalleled skills. Whatever attempt at assuaging her peers through politics ended up in Fire and Blood. This is in her, in her temperament, this is what made you love her and what will doom you in the end."

"You saw this? Truly? You saw her being my doom?" Jon asked softly.

"I saw many things, Jon. I saw you with a family of your own. I saw you live in the North, by Rickon's side, with a wife and children, while Daenerys agreed to leave the North independent as long as you didn't press your claim on the South. I saw you put a dagger in her heart after she burned King's Landing with her only remaining dragon, Viserion being killed by the Night King and Rhaegal afterward-" Bran felt he shouldn't get into the details of this one, but the truth of what he saw would be useful in disturbing Jon's mind.

"No, that's impossible."

"I saw an infinity of possibilities for the future, Jon. In any of those in which we survive the long night, not one ends well with you and Daenerys together."

"In which ones did you see the Knights of the Vale getting involved in the affairs of the North having a good outcome in the battle against the dead?" Jon asked, almost taking him off guard.

"The Vale is important for the fight, that is all I know," he lied.

"Do we not need the Free folk too?"

"We do, we need all the forces we can get, however, the Knights of the Vale need to be here. They were here when I saw us defeat the Night King."

"Did you see the Free Folk leaving Winterfell leading to a good outcome in the fight against the Night King?" Jon asked, his eyes focussed on him as he did so.

"I saw the Free Folk and the Knights of the Vale fight together to bring the Dawn, as well as the North and Daenerys' forces."

"How can we kill the Night King? Did you find the answer to that? Have you learned anything useful about him?"

"No. All I know is that he was created by the Children of the Forest to protect themselves from the First Men. After some time, he turned against them too, until not one of them remained."

"Where is the Night King right now?" Jon asked and Bran felt his stare to be discomfiting.

"Hiding his position under a storm. He knows of me and does not want me to know of his whereabouts."

"So you cannot see all of the past, You cannot see the Night King no. You do not know how to kill him, but you're certain about my future with Daenerys?" Jon mocked.

Bran could see how frustrated Jon was and he didn't like the way he was insisting as if making a point.

"You said it yourself. There's an infinite number of possibilities. The future is not written yet. I don't know why you're so intent on us not getting together." Jon's voice was louder now, angrier.

"Because the North is attached to you, Jon. Our family is attached to you. Should anything happen to you, then nothing will stop the North from wanting retribution, and all will die. Sansa, Arya, me… Rickon… Our fate is tied to yours, and yours doesn't end well whenever you tie it to Daenerys'."

"You still have this habit, you know?" Jon smirked.

"What habit?"

"You always look down when you lie."

This almost made Bran react as images of his mother chastising him before the fateful climb that crippled him ran through his mind. If only…

No, it was meant to be. I was supposed to fly and I had to lose my legs so I could open my third eye. The ink is dry, anyway.

"Oh, you do it very slightly now, and were I not bound to Ghost I would probably have not seen it" Jon continued, smirking more as this made him recoil slightly in surprise. "I do not know what you're hiding, nor why you feel the need to lie to me about my future, but from now on, I will make sure that no one follows your word blindly. Unless you're willing to be true to us, to me, unless you show that you're truly working for the North and not against it, to strengthen our family and not break us apart, I will not heed your words anymore."

"You'll see, brother. You'll see soon enough that I am right. Now that you've said your piece, can you bring me back to the Heart Tree so I can continue on my task to save the living?"

Jon didn't object and took him once again in his arms, unaware of Bran's rage boiling inside of him, yet as he was placed back in his chair, there was something else there in his cousin's eyes when he looked at him, something that scared him truly. If he didn't need him to end the Night King's life, who knew what he would have done to his cousin once they were in his territory. Instead of lashing out as he did with Rickon, knowing it will do him a great disservice to do so, Bran decided on giving some parting words to Jon that would make him think, whether he wanted to or not.

"You love her, but some things are not meant to be, Jon. Some loves are doomed from the start. such as the love shared between a wolf and a dragon." he said, rejoicing when he saw Jon wince as he got ready to leave the Godswood.

"Aye, I love her. You should remember that the next time you try to come between us, as you should remember this, cousin." Jon's naming him as a cousin only added to the fear that was rising in him "Wolves protect the pack and Dragons burn their enemies. Not even you'll be able to fly far enough from me should it come to pass that you're more the latter than the former. Cursed is the Kinslayer, Bran, but some curses are worth the price."

Bran wanted to rage, to yell out his frustration and anger but felt that he couldn't. He was being watched, he could feel it, yet he couldn't find where Rickon was to his utter annoyance. He had to stick to his emotionless self now that his brother knew how to warg, and he seemed not to be the only one who controlled his gift if Jon was to be believed. He understood then why Ghost didn't seem as afraid of him as he had been before. He had managed to strengthen the bond between him and Jon, making Bran unable to use him as he could have before.

When he was finally left alone, he retained a sigh and immersed himself in the Heart Tree, using all of his strength to bend it to his will. It was becoming more and more difficult to do this ever since Rickon traveled in this realm. The Old Gods had once again made it clear which brother they favored and Bran hated him even more because of that.

He searched again and again in the future for a glimpse, a glimmer of hope, and found it as he looked somewhere else. He found it in a man who was always destined to help him, an ally who knew not his true role in things to come but would be rewarded as he should have been, had things not changed because of Rickon.

He smiled as he saw it more clearly then, what he should do and how he should act for him to be able to fly as he should.

Soon. Soon he would be able to do so and the Golden Dragon would help him fulfill his destiny, whether he liked it or not.

Winterfell 303 AC.

Littlefinger.

He had needed more time, that was all, more time and he'd have achieved all he'd set out to. Things happened much too fast though. Events in the North seemed to move at a snail's pace while in the South they sped along rapidly. There was no way he could have predicted that the war would be won that easily, not even given the fact that the Dragon Queen had actual dragons to call upon. His spies had told him that she'd named Tyrion Lannister as Hand and that caution was being preached. The Imp's feelings for his family had probably stayed her hand regarding them up to now. He'd thought that would be enough, it would have been if it was not for Jon Snow.

Once again it was the Bastard of Winterfell who'd been the fly in his ointment and the ruination of his plans. His eagerness to get back to the North and be by his brother's side had led to him somehow becoming who had been trusted to plan the war against Cersei Lannister. Then whether or not he was that tactically astute or simply having such a force to call upon made it inevitable, he'd seen the war won in no time. Was that not bad enough, somehow he'd then managed to make it back to Winterfell in far too quick a manner, Petyr still not sure how he'd managed that feat and yet in the end it mattered not. Jon Snow was here and so other than with his death, something he had planned to see happen in the future, he was once again a thorn in his side and an obstacle to his plans.

What he'd done at the meeting had shown that Petyr's time in the North was at an end. The way he'd spoken to the Knights of the Vale and the Lords of the North had proved that they no longer held sway or influence here and even after they'd spoken to Sansa, they'd gotten no respite. She'd disappointed him greatly and had made it clear on more than one occasion that while she said the words and performed some of the actions he wished her to, her heart wasn't truly in it and she was not completely on his side. Her having a backbone and a spirit as well as her being the perfect image of her mother at that age had drawn him to her far more than Lysa and even Cat ever had, but he couldn't accept her being too spirited. No, it was time for him to take what he was owed and to break her so that she was far more compliant to his wishes and desires.

"Make ready my carriage, we leave as soon as we can." he said to his guard before he made his way to speak to Lord Royce and the other Knights of the Vale.

He found them still stewing and when he told them that he intended to leave and to head to King's Landing to speak to the Dragon Queen in person, he was surprised by the look of respect in Royce's eyes. This only increased when he told them that he wished for them to head straight back to the Vale and to make ready for a war that he had no intention of fighting. In the end, he knew he'd have no choice but to kneel, it was the price for that kneeling he was considering and how to wring the best deal for him personally out of the negotiations.

With a nod to Lyn Corbray, he left the Knights of the Vale to their preparations, and together they made their way to Sansa's room. His preparations were made and it was time to collect his prize before he left this place. Petyr found himself almost as eager as he had been when he was a young boy and Cat had shown how she'd truly felt about him. The memories of that one glorious night that they'd spent together were something that fuelled his excitement about all the nights soon to come. As angry as he was with her, he knew that would she just come to him and offer herself to him, he'd forgive her anything. Yet the first words out of her mouth after she'd answered the door to him, proved that she'd not offer him anything, which left him but one choice, to take what he was owed.

"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." he said in reply to her dismissal and then entering the room, he bid Lyn close the door behind him.

"What is so urgent, Lord Baelish." she said irritably.

"I received word from the Vale, apparently the Dragon Queen demands that your cousin kneel and offers no assurances about the future once he does so."

"I believe Jon said similar, did he not?"

"He did. Yet he mentioned not the North, Sansa. Do you truly believe that you'll not be brought to your knees too?" he asked curiously.

"Jon has made his intent clear, Lord Baelish. Were the Dragon Queen to seek to take the North, I've no doubt my brother would fight for his king and I believe the Dragon Queen may not wish for such an outcome."

"So naïve, so foolish. I had such high hopes for you, Sansa. Together there is no limit to what we could achieve, no position that is out of our reach. I told you of the future I seek, the dream I have of that future. Of you and I sitting together on the Iron Throne…"

"A dream, Lord Baelish, a dream with no chance of coming true lest you know a way to beat dragons or my brother? You name me naïve and say that I'm foolish." she laughed and it annoyed him greatly "Yet even I can see that the future you seek is one that will never come to pass."

"Mayhaps not all of it." he said and Lyn moved so fast that she didn't even have time to scream before he'd put the cloth over her mouth and her struggles ended in moments.

Seeing her as Lyn lay her down on the ground, her hair spread out behind her, the soft pale skin on her chest and shoulders slightly exposed, he almost took her then and there. Was he not so sure of his plans and so eager to hear her moan and scream his name when he did take her, he would have. Instead, he sent Lyn to fetch the chest and ordered his guards to ready to move her to his carriage. It took two of them to squeeze her into the large wooden chest and the ease with which they carried her from her room to his carriage amazed him.

Her guards were nowhere in sight and he thanked the seven for that. Petyr was not sure that even Lyn could handle the giant beast of a woman and he doubted he had a man in his service who could beat Jon Snow. Yet there was no sight of any of them and the meal they'd all attended to celebrate their King's recovery had made the keep's security far too lax. Though the Northmen always thought themselves to be safe in their keeps and hadn't learned the lessons the War of the Five Kings had shown them. Safety was a myth, a thing out of reach to all of them and once you understood this, then and only then did you have a chance to protect yourself truly.

They placed the chest inside the wheelhouse and his guards and Lyn mounted up. Less than an hour after he'd decided to follow this course of action, it was done. Petyr smiled as they rode out the main gate and made their way to the King's Road. He had more than a hundred men with him and yet should they be caught it wouldn't be enough, so before dawn had broken, they split up. While he much preferred to ride in the comfort of his wheelhouse, he knew it would only serve to slow him down and so it was on horseback with a tied Sansa Stark in front of him that he prepared to leave the North far behind.

"We ride hard, the sooner we're out of these lands, the sooner you'll be paid." he said to his men and he didn't look back as the wheelhouse went one way and he and Sansa Stark the other "Soon my love, soon." he whispered softly to the still unconscious woman in front of him.

Winterfell 303 AC.

The Hound.

His head was pounding and he cursed himself for drinking too much. He hated Winterfell, probably more than he'd hated his time beyond the Wall. He would rather face the dead once more, for he wouldn't feel as if she was there torturing him.

He had tried to talk to her, to make her see reason, to make her realize that she was making the same mistakes as she did in King's Landing, but she wouldn't listen and it angered him to no end. He had heard what had happened to her and what she had done to her former husband. The fucker was in luck. for he would have done way worse to him than feeding him to his dogs. He would have deserved it, for hurting someone so vulnerable and undeserving.

Yet she stood near the man who betrayed her and her family, not once, not twice, but thrice… That Littlefinger was still alive, that her brothers hadn't ended his life was beyond his understanding. He knew and had seen how much of a backbone both Rickon Stark and Jon Snow had, and the latter seemed to him like the kind of man to kill the evil at its root. Not to mention that he had a fucking dragon at his disposal.

The sight of the beast had been enough to make him go back to Winterfell. He had left to help Beric and Thoros with the evacuation of the North, anything to get away from this damn place he hated so much. Instead of his usual trip to White Harbor, he had been sent to Thorren's Square and was riding towards the keep when he spotted it flying over his head and landing in the forest. His instincts told him to turn around and he did so without thinking, only fearing for the Wolf Bitch and the Little Bird's safety. The Dragon Queen was supposed to be South, and she couldn't possibly have defeated Cersei already. Jon Snow was supposed to be with her and the boy King was still lost in whatever ailed him. Sansa was the one in charge and seeing how bad she was at ruling had made him fear for her sake.

When he'd arrived, he had found out that it was not the Dragon Queen but Jon Snow who had arrived in Winterfell. He'd heard that the bastard didn't lose time to call out the fuckers from the Vale. So he had been elated and had celebrated the departure of Littlefinger and his allies by drinking all night with Brienne of Tarth, who had been given leave for the night by Sansa herself. It had surprised him to see her so willing to drink, especially with him given their history together, but her hatred for Baelish and his manipulative ways were stronger than her dislike for his manners. They had spent the night talking about the Stark Sisters and the growing rift between them.

"I wish I could do something to help," Brienne said drunkenly. "I swore to their mother that I would protect them, yet not only wasn't I able to do so before they got hurt, but I am failing in protecting Lady Sansa from herself. And now Lady Arya hates her."

"If only she fucking listened…" Sandor grumbled.

"I do not get it. Seriously, I do not. But hopefully, now that this parasite is set to leave, Maybe she'll fucking listen!"

"Well, well! The Maid of Tarth can swear!" he joked, laughing as he saw her redden from either embarrassment or anger.

"I can do a lot of things, Hound. I am not a dainty flower! I usually do not like to swear but that particular bastard deserves it!"

"That he does." he agreed, pouring more ale into her mug.

"Did you hear their last fight? Arya and Sansa's? I swear I thought I would have to intervene, and then again I would probably have been killed if I had. Arya doesn't joke when it comes to fighting."

"I heard she ended the Freys male line all by herself," he said smiling truly at the thought

"She did, and they will not be missed."

"Littlefinger wouldn't either, yet he's still breathing."

"It's Lady Sansa's fault. She claimed that the Vale would not stay if they killed Baelish and they listened to her." she replied to his surprise. "I know both Rickon, Jon Snow, and Arya wanted him dead."

They got distracted by the red-headed wildling who wanted to get under the Maid's britches and Sandor left them be, as he hated the fucker's boisterous attitude.

It was way past morning when he woke up and he skipped breaking his fast, not wanting to waste a meal when someone else could be more in need of it. Nothing was appetizing anyway, and he hoped the Dragon Queen would bring some chicken with her from the South. He heard that the King had left with his bastard brother, their murderous sister, and some of the Lords for a hunt with the Free Folk. That they had not waited to send off the Knights of the Vale, who had left soon after, was a clear sign of disrespect worthy of the one shown to them by their previous guests. The North was a dreadful place, especially in Winter, but Sandor appreciated the lack of pretending that was more common in the south.

His steps led him to Sansa's chambers and he hesitated. He wanted to see her, to talk to her and hopefully knock some sense in her head since Littlefinger was done messing with it, and as he went to knock on the door, he frowned while seeing it ajar and hearing small whimpers coming from the room.

He didn't expect to find Brienne in Sansa's room, crying without restraint.

"Why the fuck are you crying? What's going on?" he growled, making her jump in surprise.

"I… I failed her…" the woman sniffled, showing him a piece of parchment addressed to her.

Brienne,

I release you from your vows. You are free to serve my other siblings without feeling conflicted.

I am leaving with the Lords of the Vale, traveling with them to be by my cousin's side where my counsel will be welcome.

I wish you good fortune for the war to come.

Sansa Stark.

Dread fell over Sandor as he read the words and yet could not believe them.

"Horseshit. She wouldn't leave." he declared loudly.

"I…"

"I am telling you, the last thing she would want to do would be to follow this fucking Mockinbird after all he did to her! And you, you should be fucking ashamed for falling for this! You know her!"

"I thought I knew her! Yet every time she manages to disappoint me!" Brienne retorted, still crying.

"Unless I hear it from her own lips, I will not believe this shite! Now, are you coming with me?" he asked and she hesitated. "Fucking hell! What if something happened to her? Will you look at yourself and be proud of abandoning her? Come now!" he yelled and walked out the room, straight to the stables, glad to see her follow suit.

They rode as hard as they could to get to the Knights of the Vale. They were not too far, according to Brienne, for they didn't leave a long time before them, yet it took them hours to catch up to them. Lord Royce who led the march back to their home looked at him in surprise, then with distrust as they dismounted.

"Is Lady Stark with you?" Brienne asked, hopefully.

"What?"

"Sansa Stark! Did she leave with you?" Brienne asked more worriedly now.

"Where the fuck is Littlefinger?" He suddenly asked.

"And why should I -" Yohn's haughty response stopped as Sandor raised his hand before unsheathing his sword.

"I swear to the Gods that I will gut you if you do not give me a clear answer. Where. Is. Baelish?"

"Lord Baelish left yesterday for King's Landing!"

"Was Lady Stark with him?" Brienne asked, the worry in her voice echoing his own while he glared at the older man.

"If she was, he didn't tell me!"

"I hope for your sake that nothing has happened to her. For if she's been harmed you best pray that Jon Snow finds you before I do!" he spat, moving from the man and rushing back to his horse.

If Littlefinger had left the day before, then he was now too far ahead of them to retrieve her with a searching party. By the time they would get to them, who knew what the perverted bastard could have already done to her.

He needed to get back to Winterfell. He needed to go to the only one who had the means to get to her quickly and pray that Jon Snow would care enough about his sister to let a dragon loose on a Mockingbird.

Winterfell 303 AC.

Jon.

He was fuming as he walked out from the Godswood, his talk with Bran had helped him some but his cousin, for that is what he was, had been his usual obtuse self. So much so that even when he'd told him things, he'd only done so in order to get him to do as he wished, to manipulate him as it seemed he manipulated everyone around him. Jon was now sure that was what he did, just as Rickon had said about him, it was the why, that he couldn't quite understand though.

Why did Bran wish them to act a certain way?

Why did he want them to do certain things?

What plan was he working on?

And to whose benefit?

Jon knew that Bran wanted to win the war against the Night King and the Army of the Dead, on that at least he was on their side. It was every other thing his cousin spoke that he wasn't so certain about. His reasoning for not wanting him to be with Dany may on the surface seem to be out of worry for him and their family, but it was what lay beneath that surface that Jon found himself thinking on. As for why he'd not told him the truth of himself, that was a mystery that he had yet to even begin to unravel. That horseshit he'd said about Jon not trusting him just didn't ring true and as for him being trueborn, he wished to believe it, almost begged to, and yet he could not. He needed a source truer than a cousin he didn't fully trust for that and so instead of the Great Hall, it was to his room that he was heading, to find that source.

"Snow." a voice called out and Jon turned to see the Hound walk his way.

"Clegane."

"Your sister, Snow, she's missing."

"Arya does that from time to…"

"Not the little wolf, the little bird, Sansa."

"She's not in her room?" he asked and the Hound shook his head, Jon sighing as he knew now where she was.

"Then she's made her choice, let her cousin in the Vale and Littlefinger protect her, I care not." he said, moving to walk away.

"Are all you wolves so fucking stupid? Wherever your sister is, it's not by her choice. It's by the choice of that cunt Littlefinger and should anything happen to her, then I'll fucking gut you like you should have done him the moment he arrived here."

"What the fuck are you saying, Clegane?"

"I'm saying that the fucker has lived too long and should have died for what he did to your father."

"What did he do?" he asked, his feelings about his uncle put aside for now.

"He was the one to hand him over to the Lannisters, held a knife to your father's throat, and used the Gold Cloaks to take care of his guards. That fucker has been walking around breathing air he doesn't deserve for long enough and he has an unhealthy obsession with red-headed Tullys."

"I know how he feels about my sister." Jon said as he called out for Ghost.

"Aye, mayhap you do. Did you know he claimed to have taken both of the Tully girl's maidenheads? That he used to brag about getting to Catelyn Tully before your father did?"

Jon may not have had the best relationship with Catelyn Stark but he would never have believed it of her, he didn't believe it or her. As for her sister, he knew her not, though if it was true then it called into question the Lord Paramount of the Vale's paternity.

"You're sure she's not here?" he asked and Sandor shook his head, Jon then connected with Ghost and bid the white wolf to seek her out if she was in the keep just in case "I'll speak to her guards, Brienne and…"

"She knows not where she is, I've spoken to her. We've gone after the Knight of the Vale too, she's not with them. Littlefinger has taken her and whatever he's planned, only you can stop it."

"I don't even…"

"You have a dragon." Sandor said, interrupting him.

"What?"

"I saw you flying over the Wolfswood. Horses are no fucking good, Snow, and I care not how or why you have a dragon, but I know you fucking have one. Call him, call him and find her before it's too late." Sandor demanded.

He closed his eyes and reached out for Rhaegal, surprised to find the Green Dragon was already on his way.

"I'll order men mounted and a search." he said holding his hand up when Sandor went to speak "They'll cover more ground and leave me free to search with fewer questions. Ride with them, take Brienne and Tormund and some others, when you see Ghost it means I've found her."

"Thank fuck your not a complete fool, Snow, I thought I'd have to beat it into you to go after the little bird."

"She's my sister, we may not see eye to eye, but she's my sister still." he said as he hurried away and headed into the keep.

He ignored the calls to join people at their tables as he made his way to where Rickon, Arya, and Davos were at the High Table. Leaning down to his brother, he whispered in his ear and then walked from the Great Hall and to Sansa's room. Entering inside he found that none of her things had been taken, her dresses were still neatly packed, and was that not enough, Ghost running in from outside while carrying a handkerchief in his mouth would have been.

"Where?" he asked as he closed his eyes and felt himself in the wolf's head, images of the ground outside Winterfell soon being shown to him.

Rickon and Arya along with Davos and Tormund soon joined him and only the latter two seemed uncomfortable invading his sister's privacy.

"Sansa has been taken by Littlefinger." he said directly.

"Stolen?" Tormund asked and Jon shook his head.

"Taken against her will."

"No, she hasn't." Arya said looking at him "She left because she wanted to."

"No, she didn't, Arya. I wanted to think so, I gave her an ultimatum that Rickon and I discussed and on the surface, it would seem she's made her choice. But look around, notice anything?" he asked and Arya did as he bid only to shake her head.

"Her clothes, she didn't take them." Rickon said a moment later.

"Aye. The Hound rode after the Knights of the Vale, he sought her out and she's not with them, which means she's with Littlefinger."

"Doesn't mean she's been taken by him, Jon". Arya said her anger towards Sansa was still something she'd not fully let go of.

"No it doesn't, and yet I know she has. Forget how mad she makes you, how angered at her you are. Now tell me what you'd do?" he asked and he saw it, the moment of clarity in her eyes.

"I'd chase after the fucker and gut him for taking my sister." Arya said.

"Well, you can't. I need you to stay here and protect our brother, I'll go after her. Davos, Tormund, I've organized a search party, I'd ask you to see that they're provisioned."

"Aye Jon, I'll see to it at once." Davos said.

"You want me with them, King Crow?" Tormund asked and Jon nodded.

Once they'd left he turned to Rickon and Arya, knowing he'd have further questions to answer and wishing he'd spoken to his sister about his truth already.

"Can you find her?" he asked Rickon while Arya looked at him confused.

"I don't…"

"Try brother." he said to a nod and when Rickon closed his eyes, Jon turned to Arya.

"I'll find her and bring her back and once I do, we'll all have much to speak on. I've something I need to tell you, but for now, I just ask you to trust me, can you do that?" he asked his sister.

"Aye, you know I can."

"Rhaegal and I are bonded, Arya, he saved me because of that, and now he's on his way to take me to find Sansa." he said as Arya looked at him dumbfounded.

"How… I don't… how can you ride a dragon?"

"I'll tell you when I return, I promise." he said as Rickon opened his eyes.

Less than an hour later the search party had been sent out and Jon made his way to the Wolfswood. Rhaegal had landed much closer to the keep and yet far enough for him to probably go unnoticed. Though given that he'd already been seen by The Hound, it probably mattered not anymore. Soon enough the truth would out and so why bother hiding it. For now, though he was focussed only on finding and rescuing his sister and so after speaking to Rhaegal and telling him what he wished from him, they took to the air and headed to where Rickon had said Littlefinger was supposedly camped for the night.

It took them no time at all to arrive and Jon found that even flying at night didn't stop him from seeing the world below him. They'd passed the search party and he'd seen Ghost lead them on their own fruitless search. The white wolf had done as he'd bid and taken them far from him and Rhaega and he would show him his gratitude later. Looking to the tents and horses below him, he would say there were about fifty men and he thanked the gods that he had a dragon to call on. Jon bid Rhaegal land and had the Green Dragon let out a roar to gain the attention of the men who looked his way, most of them looking as if they'd shat themselves or were about to.

"I mean none of you harm other than the man you serve. Should any of you feel the need to stand in my way then it won't be my sword that ends you, but my dragon, so choose wisely." he said loudly and watched as the swords were lowered and bows put away "Good choice."

He climbed down off the dragon's back and with a look to Rhaegal, he then began to move towards the largest of the tents. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a movement and he turned to see Ser Lyn Corbray standing there, his hand a few inches from the hilt of his famed sword.

"Your lady may wish for wolf's blood, Ser Lyn, but you are not the only one who can call upon Valyrian Steel." he said unsheathing Longclaw "This only needs to end with Littlefinger's death, but I have no issue ending you to get to him, so make your move, Ser." there was to be none and Jon smirked as he moved to the tent.

The North 303 AC.

Sansa.

She felt drowsy and cold and it took her a few moments to realize why that was. Her eyes took even longer to focus and when they did, she was stunned to find that she was outdoors and atop a horse. Sansa began to struggle against the arms that were wrapped around her, she tried to call out only to find her voice muffled by the gag that had been tied around her mouth. Turning to look at who her captor was, she saw the smiling face of Littlefinger and she knew exactly how much trouble she was truly in.

"Relax, my love, we'll be free of the North very soon." Littlefinger said and she felt his hand inch closer to her breast, thankfully the horse stirred making him reach for the reins and she was saved from his touches, for now.

The thoughts of what liberties he'd taken when she'd been unconscious were only taken from her by the worry over what ones he intended to once they had stopped riding for the night. She was certain that he would too, that once they had set up camp and he had her alone, nothing would stop him from doing what he'd always wished to. Looking for help from those who rode with them was an exercise in futility. Sansa found to her horror that it was Ser Lyn Corbray and others who were deep in Littlefinger's pocket and not any of the Knights of the Vale who still held to chivalry that they rode with.

Each mile they rode found her looking for some escape or praying for a rescue she doubted would come. Had she been a better sister to Rickon, he'd send men after her. Jon would come if he truly believed her to be part of their pack, something she was sure he no longer did. His words to her had been harsh but true and she had taken them to heart, yet he'd never know that. To him it would seem as if she had made the choice he'd given her and knowing Littlefinger how she did, he'd perhaps have left letters or notes to make it seem even more likely.

She felt his breath at her neck and knew if she moved back on the horse just a little, that wouldn't be all she felt. The trembling of his arms as they wrapped around her was enough to let her know the excitement he felt. A part of her demanded her to run, to jump from the horse and run as fast as she could, but she knew it would be pointless. Littlfinger may not have Ramsay's hounds to run her down but he didn't need them. Out there she was weak and untrained and even if she managed to escape the guards that would chase her down, she'd not last more than a few hours in the cold and she shivered at the thoughts of what that would mean.

"We'll be setting up camp soon, my love, I'll make sure you're warmed up." Littlefinger said in what she assumed he believed was a comforting tone.

They rode for what felt like many more miles before the cold really began to be felt and the darkness of the night's sky halted their progress. There was a brief moment when Littlefinger climbed down off the horse that she almost felt she had a chance to make good her escape, only to notice the guard holding the bow and pointing it in her direction. Even still, she almost took the risk to make a break for it, but then realized it would be the horse and not her that the arrow was aimed at.

She tried not to shudder at the hungry look in Littlefinger's eyes as he helped her down off the horse. Though she was far less successful at doing so when he touched her cheek softly. His expression was now one of anger as he moved her roughly to the fire that had been quickly set up and forced her to sit down facing it. Sansa refused the meal when it was offered to her and so her gag was left in place. Instead, she watched as the guards set up their defenses for the night and she knew that any hope she had of escaping was simply that. Littlefinger had finally gained the prize he had sought for so long and he had no intent of giving it up, much to her horror.

"I think it's time we turned in for the night, my love." Littlefinger said smiling at her as he rose to his feet and offered her his hand, his eyes telling her that if she refused to take it then things would go much harsher for her and so reluctantly she did as he wished.

The smirking faces on the men as he led her to his tent were ones she'd known once before. Ramsay's Bastard Boys had all worn the same looks when they'd looked her way and even Myranda had looked at her as Ser Lyn Corbray was now doing. She could only pray that the knight of Heart's Home suffered a similar fate to the kennel master's daughter. Would that she had hounds around her to ensure that his master suffered Ramsay's fate also.

Unsurprisingly the tent that Littlefinger named his own was far more lavish than the ones his men stayed in. Though compared to the comfort she knew that he liked to travel in, this was almost sleeping out in the open for him. Once inside it, he looked at her and reached up to remove her gag and she felt able to move her mouth once more. When she motioned for the water jug, he allowed her to take the mug and poured it himself. Sansa drank the water down slowly even though she was incredibly thirsty.

"This was not how I wished this to go, my love. I had hoped in time that you'd come to my bed willingly."

"And now you don't care as long as you get me into your bed." she said angrily, her voice hoarse from lack of use.

"The heart wants what the heart wants." Littlefinger said and not even her glaring at him was enough to remove the smile from his face.

She saw the way his eyes roamed over her body, how he practically undressed her with them, and then he reached out his hand towards her.

"This can be pleasant for both of us, Sansa, or just for me, it matters not which."

The smile she gave him brought a surprised look to his face and she swore when she took his hand, he almost swooned. She allowed the first kiss and tried not to move away when his hands began to move down her back and grabbed her arse firmly. When she moved from him, she saw the look of anger only to replace it with a far more lustful one when she began to undo the laces of her dress. Littlefinger lay down on the bed and she did her best not to wretch when his hand moved into his breeches and began to stroke what she could clearly see was an already hard cock.

When he saw her exposed breasts she saw him give an involuntary shudder and she wondered if he'd spent already given how he looked at her. It was when he moved to take down his breeches and she saw that he was still hard that she realized he'd not and that was when she made her move. Ramsay had terrified her into inaction and even had she wished to do something to stop his violations of her body, she'd not been able to. Not then and not with him. It had taken his death to free her from the nightmares that her time with him had inflicted upon her. Taken even longer than that for the resolve in her to grow to where it now was. For her to make the promise to herself that no man would ever take her against her will ever again.

By the time that Littlefinger had removed his shirt, she'd taken the knife from her dress. The dagger had been gifted to her by her sister and she'd trained somewhat in its use. Valyrian steel was sharp though, and Littlefinger for all his cleverness had mayhap never imagined that she'd ever wielded a blade for true. Had he, then this one would surely have been removed and she smiled that in the end, his wits had let him down.

She moved quickly and the knife cut deep into his manhood and upwards, the blood spurting over her hand and the sound of his screams were like the sweetest music she'd ever heard. The second stab was in the chest and the shirt had fallen to the ground by then, allowing her to see his eyes as she moved the knife and jabbed it into his throat. What expression he had on his face as he breathed his last, she couldn't quite name. Shock, surprise, fear, anger, or resignation, it was one or all of them she'd wager. Hearing the tent flap open and the sound of the guards, Sansa prepared for her own end. Images of her family going through her eyes as she moved the knife to her neck and prepared to cut it were soon replaced with looks of confusion from the guards at the sound that came from behind them.

"A Dragon." She heard one of them call out and then she was left alone in the tent with Littlefinger's corpse as the guard ran from her and back outside.

It couldn't be, could it? Why would a dragon come to her aid? Had the Dragon Queen arrived back in the North even earlier than she'd expected? Could Jon or Rickon have convinced her to come looking for her? Was it even her that the dragon was here for? The questions had no true answers and so fixing her dress and ignoring the fact that she was now even more covered in blood than she had been, Sansa looked at Littlefinger to make sure he was truly dead and stepped out of the tent.

"Jon." she called out as she saw her brother stand in front of the Green Dragon with Longclaw in hand and then before she knew it, he'd moved to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"You are well?" he asked concernedly and she nodded "The blood?"

"It's not mine, it's Littlefinger's."

"He's dead? Jon asked and she nodded firmly "Good, he was a cunt. Come, our brother and sister are worried about you, let me take you home."

"Jon I…"

"The pack protects each other, little sister, and you are part of the pack." Jon said and she felt a piece of her heart click back into place at the words and so didn't even question him when he led her to the Green Dragon and helped her up onto its back.