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

"You heard in King's Landing what your Father did. I had to do what I had to do." Lannister said gruffly.

"Which is why I agreed to bring you North, to face the other crimes you committed, this time against the Starks." Daenerys said looking to him, Sansa, and Arya but not Jon.

"Do you want me to apologize? I won't. We were at war. Everything I did, I did for my house and my family. I'd do it all again."

"The things we do for love…" Bran said and Jaime Lannister looked at his brother in disbelief.

"I do not trust him." Rickon said.

"You don't know me well, Your Grace. But I know Ser Jaime. He is a man of honor. I was his captor once. But when we were both taken prisoner and the men holding us tried to force themselves on me, Ser Jaime defended me. And lost his hand because of it. Without him, my lady, you would not be alive. He armed me, armored me, and sent me to find Sansa and Arya and bring you both home because he'd sworn an oath to your mother." Brienne stated firmly, maybe more firmly than Rickon ever heard her talk.

"So you believe he needs a second chance?" he deduced, his curiosity piqued.

"I… I don't know. What I know is that what we are about to face is unprecedented and I think he could help." Brienne said softly.

"I don't know what you seek, Kingslayer, but I say we let him face the dead or die trying. For we need every man we can get" Jon said harshly and Rickon saw both Arya and Sansa nod in agreement.

"Very well, then. This matter is settled. Brienne, he is your responsibility. He is under guest right and is not to be harmed." Rickon stated as he felt the weight of his council's gaze on him.

"Was that all you wanted to talk about, Queen Daenerys?" Jon added, suddenly shy.

"We haven't talked about my offer yet, King Rickon." she answered as she smiled at Jon and turned to look at him.

"Well, we do have an offer for you too, so who should start?" Rickon asked amusedly while feeling the queen's excitement.

"I believe I have found a way for the North and the rest of the Seven Kingdom to ally." she started.

"I believe I too have found a way for us to become allies."

"Are you speaking about the Pact of Ice and Fire?" she said and Rickon saw Bran flinch slightly, which meant it was a good sign.

"I know not of it. What does it entail" he asked, eager to find out what would cause his brother such discomfort.

"A contract, between House Targaryen and House Stark, one that had been drafted between Jaecaerys Velaryon and Cregan Stark during the Dance of the Dragons. I now intend to honor it."

"Bran, do you know what this contract is?" Jon asked and Bran nodded stiffly.

"In exchange for the support of House Stark to Rhaenyra Targaryen, Jaecaerys, her heir, had offered a daughter descending from his line to wed a son from the line of Cregan Stark."

"Are you suggesting the same for you? That a daughter of yours marry one of Rickon's sons?" Lyanna frowned.

"No. I am a descendant of Rhaenyra Targaryen and I intend to repay what was due by offering a marriage alliance with a son of Stark Blood."

"What will happen to the North? Will we have to bend the knee?" Lord Manderly asked.

"The North would be its own kingdom, as is the Iron Islands, with ties to the South by having a King with Stark blood as my consort. We will need to draft alliance contracts to clarify our-"

"I agree to your offer." Rickon cut her off, smiling wickedly.

"Truly?" she said, surprised by his outburst.

"Well, our offer was to a certain extent the same. We were willing to propose a marriage with a member of my family."

"In this case, I accept your offer as well." Daenerys said happily as she looked to Jon once more.

"Good. Now let us tell everyone the good news. My brother Bran is getting married!" he exclaimed happily.

"BRAN?" Jon gasped.

"Are you out of your mind?" Lyanna yelled, affronted on Daenerys' behalf.

"Well, I am obviously too young to get married…" Rickon chuckled internally as he tried to keep a serious front.

"But I thought… That's not…" Daenerys stammered.

"Unless you had someone else in mind, Queen Daenerys?" Rickon said with a wolfish smile.

"I… was thinking more about Lord Snow… No offense to you, Lord Bran…"

"He is playing with you and wants to annoy me, Queen Daenerys." Bran said unemotionally. "He always had the intention of offering Jon to you."

Rickon couldn't help but laugh at the relieved sigh of his future goodsister and the annoyed look of Jon who, he was certain, would make him pay for the jest later.

"We are to be family soon, Queen Daenerys. Best you get used to my teasing now!" he joked as Arya rolled her eyes.

"I will keep that in mind, King Rickon." Daenerys said smiling though not fully.

"To hell with titles. You agreed to marry Jon. You can call me Rickon."

"Not in public, Your Grace," Sansa reminded him and it was his turn to roll his eyes.

The rest of the council was looking at him with amusement, except for Lyanna whose gaze unnerved him. He knew what her stare meant. She didn't miss the fact that he had prevented Daenerys from giving the North more than he intended to accept, since he was set on bending the knee to Jon. He also knew that he wouldn't get past the flow of questions Lyanna would unleash on him as soon as they would be alone.

He made her stay after promising Daenerys and Jon that they will meet soon to talk more about the wedding and the arrangements and smiling as Sansa took it upon herself to start discussing the details with Missandei. His sister seemed to accept the union even more now that Daenerys showed she really wanted to wed Jon.

"You're hiding something," Lyanna started, crossing her arms and looking at him with her annoyingly know-it-all face, her eyebrow arched as she waited for him to spill everything.

"Aye."

There was no need for him to lie to her, for she was almost a member of his family at this point. That Lyanna, along with Tormund and Davos had kept quiet for so long was something akin to a blessing from the Gods.

"Do I want to know?" she asked with a sigh.

"I think you will soon anyway."

"Is it about Jon's mother?" she asked and he gasped, taken aback by her straightforwardness.

"How -"

"People talk, Rickon. His meltdown with the woman the Queen brought with her didn't go unnoticed. Is she -"

"No."

"Does she know her?"

"She does."

"Again, do I want to know?"

"I'd… rather not tell. I'm sorry. It's not that I don't trust you with the truth. I do. I just -"

"Is it bad?"

"It changes nothing in our lives." he answered with determination.

"But it does, else you wouldn't be pushing for him to marry Daenerys, nor would you be planning to give up the Crown to him."

"How… Jon is in love with her."

"He was already drooling in front of her the last time she came, yet you were almost cursing the Queen aloud for taking Jon away from you. You wanted to gut Davos for even suggesting a marriage. Whatever happened made you change your mind on the subject and I doubt you did it only for Jon's sake."

"I… We need to show that we support him. I need to show that I am behind him when everything is revealed. I was not lying when I said it changes nothing. We would have had to bend the knee to Daenerys to maintain peace regardless." he said as he looked at her and hoped she understood.

"I know. Now you'll make us bend the knee to your brother."

"Indeed."

"I get it. What I don't get is why Jon's mother's identity would change anything." Lyanna said frustrated.

"People will be upset at first. I was when I learned of it." he said looking down to the ground.

"So you don't want to break his trust. But you should be careful in how you're dealing with things. If I was able to catch that fact, others would too and they may not be so accepting."

"What do you think I should do then?" he asked curiously.

"You're the King, not I." she said, shrugging. "I just think that if you plan something you shouldn't be so bloody obvious about it!"

"But you trust me, do you?" He asked, feeling suddenly nervous. She was his friend and he didn't know how he would react if it wasn't the case.

"I trust you enough not to ask every single question that's going through my head right now."

"Thank you."

"But someday you will have to tell me everything! At least tell the council before word gets out, so we can help."

"I will. There's something I want to show you if you're willing."

"What is it?" she frowned as he gave her a wolfish smile. "Should I be scared?" she added and the small smirk on her face showed that she was and would be anything but.

"I swear you won't get hurt."

"At least it won't be another boring meeting." she sighed and swatted his offered hand away snorting, making him chuckle as he led her from the room and out to the stables to see Unicorn.

Winterfell 304 AC.

Jon Snow.

He'd flown to see her more than once and so he'd known just how close she was to Winterfell. While waiting for her to arrive, he'd seen to the grounds that her army would camp on, to rooms for those with her in the keep and to readying it and his family to welcome her as she should be welcomed. Jon had spent time speaking of her to the Northern Lords and Ladies. Telling them of his time with her in the South and the impression she'd left upon him. It had been something he'd intended to do regardless but it had become even more important given what his brother had suggested.

It had taken him by surprise and was not what he'd expected, even it had been what he wished for. The reactions from those on the council too were not what he'd have thought them to be. Those closest to him had been as supportive as he'd ever have wished, Tormund, Davos, his family, even Sansa had seemed happy with the turn of events, more so once they knew he was which had caught him by surprise. Not that he didn't think they cared for his feelings on the matter, just that other than Rickon, no one had ever really sought to see him happy before. Arya loved him and he knew she wished him well, but she was still growing and he'd been who she relied on far more than who he could rely on. Sansa had been in her own little world and there was no place in that world for him and even Robb had been somewhat selfish and only cared for his feelings on the surface. Not that his brother didn't love him, but he accepted his own words when they were clearly not true which showed that he never really knew him.

Rickon though had wished him to be happy. He'd cared for what was in his heart and let that be amongst the things that guided him as much as anything was, more so Jon thought. While it was true that a marriage alliance was the logical choice and it was clear to his brother that Jon and Dany shared feelings, Jon knew that were it not what he wished for, then Rickon never would have suggested it. That his reason for doing so was because he knew and cared. Even later when he'd japed and named it as Bran when Dany had arrived, he'd done so with his happiness in mind. Not that it didn't earn him a slap on the head from Jon for doing so.

" You really are a cheeky little sod aren't you brother." he said as Rickon looked at him and rubbed his head.

" I'm trying to be, Jon. Besides you were not yourself." Rickon said and Jon nodded.

" Aye, I was not. Thanks." he said softly and Rickon just nodded, not asking him if he was feeling better and just allowing him to feel how he did.

The simple truth was that he had been off since she had arrived, the first sight of her bringing up emotions that he hadn't been able to hold back any longer. Though he'd not seen her since he was a babe, he recognized her as if she'd been there with him all his life. Wylla was the woman who'd held him as a babe, who'd fed him from her own teat as they traveled through Dorne. She'd sat by his crib and rocked him to sleep and done all that his mother would have had she lived and so he'd been far more emotional with her than with anyone he'd ever met, other than the two women he'd believed he'd loved.

A few days earlier.

What had come over him?

Why had he been so emotional?

He'd wept, held her in his arms, and never wished to let him go. Spoken words to her quietly and softly and listened as she spoke words he'd long to hear. Word of his mother, of his father, of his birth, and were it not for the fact they were in the middle of the courtyard, then he'd have bid her continue and just tell him it all, but he knew he could not. So moving from her, he looked to Davos and asked him to find her a room and turned to Wylla to tell her that they'd speak later.

"I'll send for you." he said softly.

"And I'll come, my prince." she replied and he felt his heart soar as she walked away from him.

He showed Dany to her rooms and they spoke of what had happened with Wylla, Jon told her that he was well and then they spoke of themselves, of each other, and soon he was lost in her embrace, his lips meeting hers and the world other than that ceasing to exist. How he managed to not give in to his feelings he knew not, the desire, the need for her, threatened to overwhelm him and her own for him was just as apparent. Yet it felt wrong too, this was not how he wished their first time to be and so somehow he was able to stop himself from going too far.

After telling her that he loved her, that she was all he wished for, he allowed her to settle in for the night and made his way to his own rooms, wondering if he could manage to do so. He found he could not and so he made his way through the keep and outside. When he saw Howland Reed walking alone he nodded to the man and received one in return. They'd spoken for the second time and it had been far different than the first. His anger at the man was still there, it would probably never go away just as his anger at his uncle may be something that he carried with him for the rest of his days. But he'd been too harsh with the man, had not taken into account the situation he'd been in, and had certainly not taken into account all he'd done for Rickon. So he'd made his peace, apologized for what he could and they'd reached an understanding of sorts.

He soon found himself on the parapets and looking out on the tents the Dothraki had set up. Dornish tents alongside them and among them, the falling star of Starfall was one he searched for and soon found. Ned Dayne, the nephew of Ser Arthur and the new Sword of the Morning was a man he needed to speak to and speak with soon. As was another man who'd arrived with Dany, Ser Jaime Lannister. There were plans to be made, battle lines to be drawn and commands to be given and yet as he stood looking out on the tents, his thoughts went to only one place. Jon turned to head back inside the keep and almost laughed when he saw the man walk to join him, the gods showing him his path even though he already knew it.

"You got her settled, Davos?" he asked as Davos moved to stand beside him.

"Aye, Jon. I…"

"Ask the question, Davos, I know you wish to. So ask it of me and I'll answer what I can."

"The lady, Jon, Wylla, is she your mother?" Davos asked and Jon smiled, in a way she had been, had she not.

"She was my wet nurse, Davos. When I was but a babe she suckled me at her own teat. So aye, in a way you can name her my mother, though she is not." he said and Davos nodded "You gave her good rooms?" he asked to another nod.

"Aye. I did lad."

"Thank you, Davos, it means much to me."

"Come, Jon, it's getting far too cold to be standing out here." Davos said a few moments later and Jon shook his head, not feeling the cold and not yet ready to walk back inside, much though he wished to.

He was left alone and when he did finally walk inside it was not to Wylla's room or Dany's nor to any of his kin that he went, but to another woman he'd been most pleased to see arrive at Winterfell.

"My lady, forgive me for not speaking to you sooner." he said when Melisandre opened the door.

"You've nothing to be forgiven for, my prince." she said bidding him enter the room.

"I didn't welcome you as you should have been. Nor offer you the thanks for all you've done, both with me and since I've come back North. You offered her grace advice when she needed it did you not, advice that you believed I'd offer?"

"I did, my prince. I hope I didn't overstep…" she began but he shook his head.

"No, I'm here to thank you for it, for all you've done."

"Ser Davos, my prince….I…"

"I'll talk to Ser Davos, we have a war to face my lady, a war that needs all of us to see it done. R'hllor has sent you to play your part and I am most grateful he sent you to me, I wish you to know this." he said and saw the smile that appeared on her face but briefly "I'll let you take your rest, my lady, we'll speak on the morrow." he said as he turned to walk from the room.

It was Podrick that he sent to Wylla's rooms, the young man doing as he bid quickly and it was he and Ghost that led her to him in the Crypts. The white wolf then escorted Podrick from them and stood guard on the door while Jon stood in front of his mother's statue.

"They did a terrible job, my sister says they did so with my uncle, so I've come to believe they did so with my mother too, am I right?" he asked as Wylla stood beside him and looked at the statue.

"They haven't captured her spirit, my prince." Wylla said and Jon sighed "She was so full of life, fierce like a wolf and she had a light about her, a light that shined so very brightly. I heard tell that your father was a melancholy man, my prince. That at times he could get lost in his head, the knights that were there with us, the Black Bat and the Sword of the Morning, they'd speak of a man I never knew. For in all the time I spent at the tower, not once did I see the man they spoke of."

"He was happy, they were happy?" he asked nervously.

"Never have I seen it afore or since, my prince. They loved each other, brought the best out of each other. They were happy, I'd stake my life on it." Wylla said and Jon nodded.

"When they parted. When they said their goodbyes and… did they know?" he asked and he felt her reach out to take his hand "Did they know it was to be the last time…" he said choking back a sob.

"No. They believed they'd see each other again, that things would work out. Many times they spoke of the world they'd see come true once you were born. Of the life that you'd have with your brother and sister, of the life they'd have. Had they known then I doubt they'd have been able to part, my prince. I heard your father say something to your mother once, something that I'd not heard afore."

"What?"

"That love trumps duty. That honor means nothing compared to that." Wylla said and Jon turned to look at her, the words he'd heard long ago at the Wall now making more sense to him, and as he thought more on them, he began to sob.

His mother and father had been fashioned for love and it had led to no great glory and much great tragedy. He'd not known his brother's smile, nor had his father ever had the chance to hold him in his arms. The oaths that had been sworn to his family had turned out to be nothing more than winds and words. Duty and honor had been abandoned by men who'd claimed to live up to both, he'd seen it more than once in his life, and knowing that, was there anything else left to fight for but love? He felt not. Wiping his eyes, he moved from his mother's statue to his uncle's, Wylla moving with him.

"What can you tell me of him?" he asked, unable to name him his uncle or by any name.

"I'll not speak of that man, my prince. You should not care to hear about him either." Wylla said bitterly.

"Wylla?"

"No, he swore to your mother that he'd do as she asked him and he broke his promise to her. I was sent away never to speak on what I knew under the pain of death." Wylla said and he gasped "I tried to believe he was only doing so to protect you, protect your secret and that in time….but it was not you that he sought to protect and not the oath sworn to your mother that he wished to live up to."

"What was the oath?" Jon asked as Wylla glared at his uncle's statue.

"Promise me, Ned, Promise me you'll look after him. If Robert finds out he'll kill him. Protect him, Ned, give him the love that I cannot, the life that should be his. Tell him the truth of me, of his father, tell him that he was loved by us both and that the things they say of us are not the truth. Tell him that were it in my power, was there anything I could do then I'd do it just for one more day with him and that I do not go quietly to meet my gods. And that they took me from this world kicking and screaming. Promise me, Ned, Promise me that you'll see him told the truth of himself, his name…..tell him his name and that I loved him… Promise me, Ned, his name is…."

Jon felt his heart being torn in two, Wylla giving him his mother's last words and the truth of what his uncle had hidden from him finally coming to light. So torn up by what he had heard was he that at first, he didn't hear the name, didn't hear what he was truly called, and then he felt her hand touch his again and he was looking Wylla in the eye.

"Baelon, your name is Baelon Targaryen."

Now.

He sat in his room and looked at the harp, the wood and string were cheaply made and yet the sound of it as he plucked them was true. A part of him wished so very much that he'd have learned to play it, that it had been something he'd been given the chance to do when he was but a boy. Bastards though aren't taught such things, not even bastards of lords. Yet he didn't think that was the reason he'd been denied the chance to learn it or had never been encouraged to do so. His uncle wanted to keep anything that brought up memories of his true father far from him and he was now sure that it was not for his sake that he wished it so.

Baelon, Baelon Targaryen, the name took some getting used to, and yet deep inside of himself he felt it truer than he'd ever felt Jon to be. Or mayhap it was now knowing the truth which made that seem so.

" Why Baelon?" he'd asked Wylla long the day after they'd spoken in the crypts.

" I believe your father wished your name to be Targaryen and your mother wished you named for the North. In the end, it was easy enough to combine both their wishes."

" That was it?" he asked almost disappointed.

" No." Wylla chuckled and he found he joined in as she did so "Your mother wished to name you Bael after the Bard, you know the tale?"

" Aye, he was a King Beyond the Wall and after Brandon Stark named him a coward, he climbed the wall and stole into Winterfell disguised as a bard named Sygerrik of Skagos, After entertaining the Lord all night, he was asked what he wished for a reward and said he wanted the most beautiful flower that bloomed in Winterfell's gardens. Lord Stark gave him a Winter Rose and the next morning he found the rose laying on the pillow of his maiden daughter's bed, his daughter missing. They searched high and low and then a year later found her in her bed with her infant son, she and Bael had been hiding in the crypts all the time." Jon said repeating the story that Old Nan had told him once many years earlier, and leaving out the tragic end to that story.

" Your mother mayhap saw some of her and Rhaegar in that tale, your father was a bard after all. Or maybe she just liked the name." Wylla said chuckling again and he again joined in, knowing that the second part of what she said was a jape and that it was indeed the other part that was true.

" Bael though could not be a Targaryen prince, your father said and so Baelon it was, your father adding his own spin to the tale."

" How so?"

" The Spring Prince, Baelon the Brave, a good name for any child to bear, is it not? Though you were more the Winter Prince than the Spring one." Wylla said laughing more fully now and he found he enjoyed seeing her this way, just as much as he did the sound of her voice.

It was early when he walked from his room, no one truly up in the keep and soon enough he found himself walking outside and out the gate, across the fields in the cold morning air and when Rhaegal landed in front of him, he almost climbed up on his back and yet did not.

"We'll fly soon, with your mother too." he said as the Green Dragon trilled "Baelon, Rhaegal, they named me Baelon." he said happily as he sat down and leaned against the dragon's back "Baelon."

Winterfell 304 AC.

Wylla.

He was perfect. The best result of two strong lineages joining together. She had recognized him instantly and had almost fainted when she saw him smile at the Queen. She had managed not to cry when he came to her and when she held him in her arms for the first time in how many years… Even his warmth hadn't changed and his eyes when she looked into them brought her back to the first time he opened them.

" He's looking at me!"

" My Princess, you shouldn't…"

" No! I want to hold him as long as I can."

" You need to rest, Princess… Lyanna, please… You need to gain strength to care for him later."

She knew it was too late. That she had lost too much blood to be saved. Yet she couldn't bring herself to accept it. Lyanna however knew her time was drawing to an end and she enjoyed the feel of her son in her arms with a blinding smile.

" My little boy… I will join your father and your siblings soon. I am so sorry I cannot stay with you. I will be watching over you, though. I swear I will. And when one day you go North and look at the Heart Tree of Winterfell, I will be looking at you with your ancestors. If you see it cry, it will be me weeping with you. And when the time will come for you to wed, I will make it shed happy tears for you. I hope your life will be good, my son. Many hardships you will face, I pray you to be a Dragon all will fear, with fire in your veins and ice in your gaze."

"You have her eyes…" were the first words she whispered to him and her heart broke when she saw him crumble in front of her.

She had held him tight, as tight as she could, and whispered words she always wanted to say to him. Words she was sure his mother would say if she could. She was loathed to let him go, understanding that it wasn't the time to talk, as a lot of people were staring at them with surprised eyes, no doubt unused to seeing the King's regent behave this way.

She let the man who introduced himself as Ser Davos Seaworth bring her to her room and inform her that the Regent would seek her out shortly. Yet she had been surprised to have another visitor before him. A woman came to her, telling her that her father wanted to invite her to the Godswood when her task was done. It was only when she noticed her sigil that she realized who she might be.

Part of her wanted to deny him like he had denied her Prince of the truth. He was supposed to watch over him, to care for him as she couldn't do it herself. However, she thought about how the man she grew to hate had behaved with her and she wanted to know his motives for not telling the truth sooner.

The talk with Baelon had drained her emotionally. Seeing him revert to a little boy eager to know more about his identity and reliving his mother's last moments with him had been taxing but she knew it was needed. As was the next talk she would have to have with the one waiting for her in the Godswood.

He seemed calm at first and she could see the years had taken a toll on him. Gone was the Crannogman who ended the Sword of the Morning's life to get to the Tower where he sought his friend whom he thought was held against her will, instead a man full of regret and sadness stood before her, unable to look her in the eyes.

"Never had I thought I would see you again, yet I find myself glad you're here." he said softly. "Did you talk to him?"

"I did."

"Good. He needed to hear how his parents truly were."

"You could have told him." she retorted with a bite. "You knew his mother."

"Not as much as you, I didn't. You spent much more time with her than I did."

"But you could have said something anyway."

"I wish I had. I shouldn't have trusted Ned with this. I had asked him to let me raise Jon, you know?" he said and she was surprised by this fact. "When we arrived at Winterfell and I saw how his wife reacted to him having a bastard, I offered to raise him at Greywater Watch but Ned refused. He said he had few family left and he would not part from him."

"Yet he let him swear away his life at the Wall." she snapped.

"I will not try to defend him. I cannot. I do not understand his motives nor do I condone them. He kept me in the dark for years and I have to admit I was at fault too. I could have… I should have done more to look after him. I trusted my friend, my Liege, to have his best interest at heart and I was wrong for doing so. When I realized my mistake, it was too late. He had already betrothed his daughter to Joffrey and Jon…"

She could feel he was truly regretting his inaction, yet she wasn't the one able to forgive him. Baelon had not suffered heavily under his uncle's care, but the feeling of betrayal was still there and would take a long time to go away.

"If these things about the Long Night are true, then all of what your friend tried to do to him would have been for naught. He made him a Snow, but the gods will see to it that he becomes who he was always meant to be."

"What do you mean?"

"Winter is here, but my prince was born to lead us into Spring, and soon all will know the great injustice he had to face to become the King we deserve."

She looked at the face carved into the Heart Tree and smirked as she saw the red sap flow from its eyes.

I know you're in here, Lyanna… And I pray you enjoy what is happening now.

Winterfell 304 AC.

Sansa Stark.

(after Jon and Wylla have spoken, but before Rickon and Dany come to an agreement)

She was about to head to Arya's room when she saw her brother rush into his. Never had she seen Jon looking so distraught. It worried her and she instinctively followed him. She had realized since he had come to get her out of Littlefinger's clutches that he had been the one to keep the Pack united and had grown to care more about his wellbeing afterward. Even more so since she'd heard of Rickon's offer to Daenerys Targaryen. She was afraid to see him leave, especially since Starks didn't do well in the South and she had stopped seeing him as only her half-brother, but Rickon and Jon himself seemed sure it would be the best for the North and for Jon, so who was she to say otherwise?

She asked Sandor to guard the door, frowning when she realized in front of it that Jon never had a guard around him. She knew he was more than capable with a sword and that he could defend himself, but he never let any of his siblings without one, not even Arya who was formerly a trained assassin. Her heart clenched as she thought of something happening to him, as Rickon, Arya and even her would be completely lost without him. Why would he risk himself? Didn't he feel he deserved to be treated the same as them because of his status? Or was it because he had died and so death held no fear for him?

They had never talked about it. They didn't talk much before he got her back, as he spent much of his time with Rickon when he was at Winterfell and she was excluding herself from the Pack by staying with people who either were dead or openly despised her now. Yohn Royce had made it clear that he didn't believe her and that he distrusted the Lords of the North greatly. He was planning to complain to Daenerys Targaryen on behalf of his Liege Lord, whom she had contacted herself and explained in a rather large letter what had happened to her and what Littlefinger did to his mother. She hoped that SweetRobin would believe her and that Daenerys would not use this to weaken the North. As she didn't want to be the reason why they had to bend the knee. Even though she believed Rickon intended to do so if the Dragon Queen was to marry their brother and he'd done or said nothing to contradict her.

Her heart broke when she saw Jon curled up in his bed, clutching to a cover as if his life depended on it. It reminded her of Rickon holding onto Ghost when he needed comfort.

"Jon?" she whispered, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder so he wouldn't be startled. "Jon, what happened?"

She gasped as he reeled from her, her instincts kicking in and making her step away from him until she noticed his tears.

"Sansa…" he said, wiping them furiously and failing miserably to give her a smile. "I'm…"

"Not well. Do you want to talk about it?"

He looked away, clutching his blanket and she felt hurt by his hesitation. Did he not trust her still?

"I didn't want to tell you this way. I… I'm sorry…"

"You're worrying me, brother." she said and he snorted.

"Life is funny, isn't it?" he replied almost bitterly. "The Gods have a strange way to answer our prayers. Long have I desired to feel accepted, like a Stark, by you and your mother. To be part of this family. To be your full brother in your eyes and not half a one"

"You are to me, Jon. A full brother." she said meaning the words for the first time.

"Yet now that I feel that, I long for my Mother. I wish I knew her and that I could be with her…"

"Oh, Jon…"

"Do you love me, Sansa?" he asked, taking her off guard.

"Of course I do!"

"Swear it. Swear it that you love me, that I'll always be your brother, and that nothing I could say will change that." Jon insisted, taking her hands and almost crushing them.

"You're scaring me, Jon."

"I need you to swear it. Please, Sansa. If you truly love me, do this for me. For I cannot bear to lose more of you…"

Sansa's head was spinning. Jon's desperation showed that he had been told something that shook him deeply, and his speaking about his mother was uncharacteristic of him. She wanted to ask questions, to ask him why he was behaving this way, but his pleading eyes filled with tears broke her. She nodded and went to embrace him, tightening her hold on him when she felt him break down. It was strange for her to be in this situation, as Jon was usually the one comforting and protecting her. Seeing him this upset, this vulnerable, made her realize that now was the time to be strong for him and to prove that she really cared about him as he had her.

"I swear it." she said with determination. "I swear that nothing will make me think less of you. No matter what you have to say, I'll be there for you, brother. I swear it on the Old Gods and the New."

She heard him sigh with relief and relax in her embrace, then the next words he whispered in her ear shattered the confidence she had shown earlier. She let him confess everything, about her father lying to him, lying to them all, on Jon's identity, the Rebellion, Jon's parents, and even his name. She let him cry on his shoulder as she understood he had just learned what it was by a woman who was there and her mind immediately went to the repercussions of it.

He was a Targaryen. A true one, named as such by her Aunt who was married to the Crown Prince, which meant that Jon…

She couldn't think of him as anyone else but Jon and it scared her to no end. She was not ready to lose him either, after everything, after she had finally accepted him as an integral part of her family, the root of it, she could not see him being anything else.

She wanted him to shut up, to stop talking. She didn't want to hear another word except that it was all a jest and he was testing her loyalty at this point. Yet he kept going and she caressed his back as he opened himself up to her for the first time in his life while wishing he hadn't and biting back tears. She didn't want to believe it, but it certainly explained why he had bonded with one of Daenerys' dragons and why he was able to ride it.

"Does Daenerys know of this?" she asked shakily and felt him nod his head. "How did she take it?"

"Better than expected. She is glad to have more family. I think I'm the only one struggling with it at the moment. Not that I… I don't know how to explain this. For all my life I've heard lies about my parents, lies that have been fed to us all, to all the Realm. Now I can't help but feel angry and sad when everyone else accepts the truth calmly."

"Who else knows?" she questioned, the last words he uttered catching her attention.

"Bran knew it from the start, although he wasn't the one tell me. I told Arya when my suspicions got confirmed and Rickon…" Sansa's heart skipped a beat as she thought of, their, her, their younger brother. "I'm sorry, Sansa. The whole ordeal he got through was because of me. Because Bran told him the truth about me and he reacted badly."

"Bran told him?" Sansa repeated incredulously.

"Aye, I still don't understand why he did sot, but the fact is that Rickon was told when I wasn't even there to help him cope with this. Thankfully he assured me that he thought of me as his brother still, as did Arya… And I hope you do to…" Jon asked, looking at her with a mixture of uncertainty and hope, and smiling as she nodded. "Truly?"

It pained her that he would doubt her attachment to him at that point, but she couldn't blame him either given what had happened before.

"You've always been more of a brother to me than I have been a sister to you. I guess now is the time to prove that I truly want to be your sister…" she said and the blinding smile he gave her warmed her heart.

"Thank you, for this, and for being there when I needed to talk."

She nodded and smiled at him, although many questions came to her mind at that moment, she didn't want to break the peace they'd found. His being a Targaryen changed things yet it didn't. He was still of the North, was still going to fight for them against the Army of the Dead, and would still be Rickon's regent as their brother would not let anyone else take his place. She knew some of the Northern Lords would take offense to that, especially if they were told that they went to war for a lie and that Jon was proof of it. She wanted to know what they had planned. If Jon wanted to tell the truth of his birth before the battle and if he was still going through with marrying Daenerys. Yet it wasn't so much the political repercussions behind the revelation that worried her, as she was certain Arya, Rickon, and herself would stand with Jon against whoever stood against him.

Instead, she just couldn't get over the fact that Bran had told Rickon and not her. She wasn't sure she would have been in a place to support Jon as he deserved had she been told sooner. Bran telling Rickon, who was fiercely attached to Jon and had proven time and time again that he wouldn't tolerate people speaking ill of their brother, seemed strange to her, especially knowing what resulted from the revelation. Not only did Bran act knowing what effect it would have on their younger brother, but he also said nothing to her and Arya, and it made her think more about his motives.

Sansa now thinking about what had happened after Rickon's ailment, how Bran had insisted she had to take the reins of the Northern Council since the Vale had to be present while she wanted not to usurp Rickon, and how people had reacted to it. She felt as if she had been set up to fail, or at least to create more tension in their midst. But why? Why would it do this to her, when she had been nothing but kind to him? She had tried to forgive him for telling her the details of what had happened in King's Landing when she had gone to confront him and the reason he gave her was that Arya needed an incentive to stay and that she was needed in the fight to come. So she had accepted to be the scapegoat of her sister's anger, but the more she thought about it, the more she felt she had a long-overdue conversation to have with her young brother.

Her eyes fell on the cover Jon held in his hands and she realized it was not a simple cover.

"Is it… Aunt Lyanna's…"

"Maiden cloak? Aye. I found it in the crypts, with her journal and some other things."

"She stitched wolves and dragons on it… This is not conventional." she said smiling as she saw his fingers caress the patterns.

"I guess we can say that she was not very conventional, Sansa. She met my Father at Harrenhal, you know?" he smiled almost dreamily and she nodded. "She entered the joust at a mystery knight to defend one of her bannermen's honor."

"Truly?" she gasped and he nodded. "Then Father was right when he said to Arya that she was like her."

Jon's smile disappeared at the mention of her father and she could feel he was growing angry.

"I… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"I don't know if I will ever be able to forgive him for lying to me. I don't believe any longer that he even planned to tell me one day. He had agreed to betroth you to Joffrey, while knowing the truth about me, and he sent me to the Wall so I wouldn't cause trouble." Jon said his anger restrained but clearly there.

"Jon… I'm so sorry…"

"You didn't know. But he did and he went along with it. He could very well have done it to protect me or to be sure I could never claim my rights should I learn the truth someday. He took his secret and his motives with him when he died and I guess it angers me even more that we will never know."

Sansa's heart clenched in pain, feeling incredibly guilty. Arya had pointed out that her lapse of judgment had put in motion her father's and the Northern household's demise, and this would be another thing to add to the long list of repercussions that her mistake caused. Had her father been there, at least Jon could have some closure and someone to tell him more about his mother.

"I know what you're thinking, Sansa. Stop blaming yourself." he said and she was startled. "The Hound told me a lot of things. Aye, you did something wrong, but Lord Stark had already sealed his fate by threatening Cersei. He forfeited his life by claiming her children were not Robert's in the Throne Room and Littlefinger helped by betraying him while Lord Stark trusted him."

"So… It was not my fault?" Sansa deduced, shaking her head in disbelief.

"What I'm saying is that you are not entirely to blame. You still went against your father's wishes, which probably made Cersei act sooner to keep you as a hostage, but you are not the only one responsible for what happened back there, and you suffered enough already to keep this weight on your shoulders."

Far from relieving her, those words fueled her suppressed anger toward one of her siblings. Bran had told Arya about her story, her involvement in King's Landing, and her Aunt Lysa's death. He had made her sister and herself hate her more for naught, while she had completely trusted him. Why was he doing this? Why did he want to create dissensions in their own family? The disappointment and anger she felt needed to be addressed, but Jon needed her to focus on him at the moment.

When she left Jon's room, she hesitated to go to Bran. She was still much too angry at him for manipulating her, as she felt he did all throughout the moons since he arrived. She didn't understand his motives. He claimed he didn't want to be the Lord of Winterfell, nor King in the North, yet he pushed her to rule when he knew he was the one responsible for Rickon's state and after insisting that the Vale needed to be there when the North was against the idea. Did he want to make her lose the little credibility she had left in the North? Or did he only want to create chaos like Littlefinger?

Her feet led her to the Godswood and she shivered as she saw her brother, Bran's chair turned so he could look at the Weirwood's angry face.

"You are angry at me." he said dispassionately.

"You let Arya believe Father died only because of me."

"You may not understand why I said this to Arya, but it needed to be done."

"Why? Why would you deliberately pit her against me?"

"It was the path that led to Littlefinger's death and your bond being strengthened."

"How am I expected to believe you? Was telling Rickon about Jon necessary too?"

"It was, for other reasons. As for you believing me, I don't expect you to, but the results are there. The Pack is restored."

"So you knew what would happen to me? What Littlefinger would do?"

"I've never been shown this." he said and she didn't believe his words. "I just knew what I had to do and I would do it again because the more alienated you felt, the more you understand the value of family now."

"You should have told me, instead of…"

"Would you have supported Jon if I had told you of him before? Or would you have used him as a pawn to get Northern independence, by declaring him king of the Seven Kingdoms?"

"I…"

"You did not trust Daenerys to have the North's interests at heart, and now you're wary of her because of Jon, and you are right to be. Jon is too attached to her to see her for who she truly is. As soon as the truth will be known, people will rally behind Jon and not her, and she will resent him for that."

"Why would she -" she asked worriedly only for Bran to interrupt her.

"Everything I've done, I have always done it with our family in mind. You were a lone wolf once, Sansa. Lost in the clutches of a Mockingbird and fearful of a Lioness. You pushed the rest of the pack away and yes, what happened with Littlefinger needed to happen for you to fully find yourself back into the pack."

"What about you?" she finally asked.

"What about me?"

"Are you a lone wolf or are you a part of the pack?"

For the first time since the beginning of their conversation, Bran turned his head and stared right into her eyes, making her shiver in discomfort.

"I am not a wolf. Not anymore. I am the Three-Eyed Raven, and I watch over you all."

Winterfell 304 AC.

The Three-Eyed Raven.

His head was hurting so much he could barely keep up his façade. Ever since they made the announcement official, he'd been hit with images of a future he had no desire to see. Then Sansa, of all people, had the gall to chastise him! She would have been Queen in the North, the one in charge of their homeland if it wasn't for Rickon being alive, and she had the nerve to question his usefulness?

He had been tempted to show her, to get in her head to make her see what doubting him had cost her, but he needed his full focus to foil his brother's plan.

Why should they get their happy ending when Bran would not? Why should they be favored when they hadn't suffered as much as he had? None of them, none, knew the true meaning of pain. They thought they had because they had been betrayed, hurt, battered, or even killed, but death was a gift compared to what lay ahead for him.

A lifetime of servitude, stuck in a crippled body while observing his family grow and die, watching over their descendants while little by little he would be forgotten. His name and deeds were to be relegated to the ranks of bedtime stories in the North narrated by Rickon's offspring to scare their get and prevent them from climbing Winterfell's walls.

Never go alone in the Broken Tower. Your great great great uncle Brandon climbed and lost more than his legs that day. They say his spirit haunts the Godswood now for he had lost his mind by the end.

He was not mad. He was angry at the Old Gods for putting him on this path. He had wanted to be a knight, to defend the Wall like his uncle Benjen and his cousin at some point. Not only did the Gods decide otherwise, but they had also wanted to restrain him, to put a limit on his powers, and for what? To prevent a prophecy from happening? To correct a mistake they had created by empowering the wrong people all those centuries ago?

" We were at war. Our sacred trees cut down. We needed to defend ourselves." Leaf had said when he'd found out about the Night King's creation.

" From whom?"

" You." the way she'd looked at him would be forever ingrained in his mind, at that moment when everything changed for him.

The Children knew they were doomed and had tried to doom the descendants of the First Men with them, but Bran's namesake, his ancestor had succeeded where they'd failed, providing mankind with a momentary respite by erecting the Wall. In the end, Leaf and the others had been destroyed by the very weapon they had created and Bran couldn't find it in himself to pity them. Not when he knew why the Night King had been created in the first place.

He tried and tried again to see the future he had glimpsed when he would rule over Westeros, getting restless as every look he took solidified more the path leading to Daenerys and Jon ruling. He could see his brother lay down the crown made for him at Jon's feet, sometimes with Sansa and Arya smiling with him as the whole North bent the knee. Sometimes he'd see it without their family and with fewer people watching. In any case, he couldn't let this happen, not when he saw a much better outcome, for him and for the world.

He focused on the event that could change everything and tried to see the outcome should he succeed, but the Gods it seemed they would not let him have his way that day. He would not give up, however. The wedding would take place soon if he didn't do anything to prevent it, and he needed to have the North at odds with Daenerys before she joined her claim to Jon's if he wanted a chance to create dissension between the couple.

A pained roar rang into his ears, bringing him back to the Godswood. He hadn't forgotten about him but he had hesitated before using him too soon. The dragon was not totally under his control, as his mind was hard to subjugate and he had made his unwillingness to let him in clear more than once. Thrice he'd tried, and thrice he'd failed, but Bran was confident after his third attempt that given enough time he could tame the unclaimed one, as he had managed a breakthrough and made him do his bidding in another way. Though time was running out for him now, he hesitated once more before setting his mind on the matter.

Tonight. Tonight he would fly and be the first one to ever enslave a dragon.

He felt it. the sheer power of it as he forced it into the air, the dragon's mind now almost completely his and for a brief moment, he almost abandoned his plan. The idea of having Viserion at his beck and call and for him to do his bidding almost blinded him to what it was he wished to do. it took all he had to deny himself what he deserved, to send the dragon to a man who wished him dead, yet he did so and though he kept the link open between them, it was a looser one than it could have been.

The chair was pushed to where he wished to see it all take place and the sounds around him of panic and worry were music to his ears. When he saw Daenerys race to where the other dragons were landing, he had to hide his smirk. Seeing her climb up onto Drogon's back made him covet the black dragon even more so than he had the golden one. Yet it wasn't until he saw Jon running that he truly felt that things were back on track, his plans playing out just exactly as they were supposed to.

They would be too late to save Viserion from his fate, which in turn would seal their own. He looked to the faces of the Northern Lords, to Robett Glover, Wyman Manderly, to Barbrey Dustin, and Lyanna Mormont. Bran could see the shocked looks as they watched Jon mount the green dragon and as they flew north to the Wall. Looks that would soon change from the worry about the flight, to the fact that it was even possible and all that meant. Jon's truth was soon to out and not how he wished it to, the deal the North had agreed to now hanging by a thread and despite himself, he smiled.

They were all merely players in a game that he controlled, a game that he held all the advantages in, a game that he would win and they would die in. The Game of Thrones had now truly begun.