Friendly reminder every chapter has been edited. Some words have been added. You won't be lost if you don't reread, but if you wanted more clarity I tried to add that.

11. Five Tales of Winter

Winter was hard on everyone, and so very long. There were days Sansa would lift her eyes and see the faces around her wasting away. There were not many who stayed but Sansa cut the rations of food early nonetheless, it was impossible to know when it would end, and it would be foolish to go through their supplies in a year.

She worked to restore the castle from the inside out in the meantime. Her body ached each night, but it helped her to sleep. Val and Monster slept in her chambers with her, in her mothers old room. They had been lucky some of the rooms remained undamaged.

Some would ride out for hours and return with stones from fallen keeps to help in the rebuilding of the castle walls. Val would haul wood inside so it could thaw, split it, and let it dry out. Sansa would patch up the gloves, and cloaks with the few women who remained at the castle.

One night as the small group ate their smaller rations nearly six moons after winter truly began something happened. Satin ran into the Lord's solar where they ate. "Your grace, there's something you should see."

His words sparked a panic in her so fierce she hardly stopped to hear Satin tell her she was going the wrong way. The guests had come through the front gates, or what remained. Squires were tending their horses when Sansa recognized their colors, House Manderly. Wyman Manderly had sent a quarter of his army to the North with Jon, claiming he was too old to ride himself yet here he stood.

"My lord," Sansa dipped her head. "Satin, if you would get our guests some wine, and bread; I'm sure their journey was long." Satin nodded but hesitated before leaving her side, he could hear the rustling and shouts from near the horses. Lord Manderly followed her into the entry of the keep.

"Forgive the intrusion your grace. My house has been seeing to something for quite sometime and it finally arrived." He was testing her, seeing if he could make her ask about it, Lord Manderly must not have known of her patience. He cleared his throat. "While the Bolton's fought against Stannis Baratheon we decided it would be prudent to find a rightful heir to Winterfell. That is before you came round." He corrected.

The shouting was more violent, and Sansa would swear she could hear growling. "When Theon Greyjoy took Winterfell they said he killed your brothers, but they lied." Her heart nearly stopped, two of his men were pulling a boy behind them, and it was almost like she had gone back in time.

"Shaggy, Shaggy." He wailed and Sansa turned to Lord Manderly.

"Where is his wolf?"

"Don't you believe it's him?" There was not a doubt in her mind that this little boy was Rickon. He looked near identical to Robb, though his words were broken, and his hair long. "We found him on Skagos, he was traveling with a wildling woman." Rickon continued struggling, and calling for Shaggydog. "He speaks the Old Tongue better than our own."

Sansa walked toward him and knelt to his level. "Rickon," his struggling faltered and he stared at her. "It's Sansa," she wanted to reach for him but hesitated. He had been away for too long, it was unlikely for him to remember her. He would likely be frightened by her, a crying stranger. The guards released him as his struggling slowed, he wrapped his skinny arms around her neck. Her sob echoed in the hall, she saw Satin's steps falter nervously. "You're safe," she whispered into his hair. "You're safe, and you're with me." He clung to her hair and whispered.

"Mama,"

**
A full year had passed when the fat maester arrived. Shaggydog tried to nip at his heels each time he crossed his path in the keep, and Rickon would laugh. He apologized when he saw Sansa's stern look, he still acted like he had as a boy, like he did on the island she assumed.

"Maester Samwell?" he nodded. He was startled when she hugged him. "Jon has told me about you, Satin as well. Please," she gestured for him to walk with her. "Thank you for coming."

"Jon... That is Lord Snow said you had need of me here." She led him to her solar and gestured for him to sit.

"I think he worried you would say no," Jon had told her about when he last spoke with Sam. He sent him to Oldtown with the Maester on the Wall, a wildling girl, and Dalla's baby. It didn't sound to Sansa as though he did anything wrong, but Jon seemed to think he needed Sam's forgiveness.

Sansa was thankful for the help going over accounts, and inventory. Having someone agree with her decision to conserve rations until they knew winter would end made her more confident in the decision. What she was most thankful for was the help with Rickon.

Despite her best attempts Rickon still struggled with the common tongue. After the first week Maester Samwell told her he suspected the boy understood more than she realized, it would just take time for him to use it. The only one who could coax him into using the common tongue was Val. Perhaps coax wasn't the right word.

"You're coddling him," she said once to Sansa. "Stark or not he's only known Skagos, we're lucky he isn't trying to eat people." If they were beyond the Wall Rickon would have responsibilities like a man grown, though Sansa hadn't liked the sound of that. Val never had him do anything beyond her own abilities. She would pretend that she didn't understand what he wanted unless he spoke in the common tongue, sometimes he got so frustrated that tantrums came.

Maester Samwell taught his lessons in Sansa's solar while she mended tattered tunics, and breeches. Monster would try to toddle around under Val's eye, his second name day was approaching, and Rickon would try to catch her attention by answering the Maester's questions. It almost felt normal, like Sansa could pretend that the chill of winter hadn't touched Westeros as far south as the Reach. She couldn't afford to pretend, not when Arya still lived and was lost, not while Jon led an army against the others.

Sometimes Satin sat in on lessons, when Rickon was learning to write or read. Learning with someone else helped Rickon focus. One night when he started to doze against Sansa she looked to the Maester. "Do you think it will end?" She pulled Rickon closer to her trying to keep him warm.

"They have a large army," he said. "Men and women from here to Dorne." He was telling her things she already knew. "Oldtown has sent dragon glass, they know who they face."

"That's not an answer." She reminded him sadly, she was no stranger to avoidance, when pressed it usually led to bad news. "I asked if you thought it would end, not if they were prepared."

"There are accounts of winters lasting years your grace. Whether it lasts two years or ten, it's only just begun." He was shaking his head sadly.

"Do you think they'll win?" She wouldn't ask after what she really wanted to know. A queen was concerned for all of her people, not just one man. Yet somehow the maester gave her the answer she needed to hear.

"I think Jon will do whatever he has to do to come back."

**
They called the Monster Joramun on his second name day. After the King-Beyond-the-Wall who joined forces with the King in the North to defeat the Nights King. Sansa hoped his name would somehow bring the end of winter. Another had died from the cold, and it filled her with guilt to know that she would not be the last. She wrapped Rickon up extra tight in whatever furs she could find after that, and encouraged Val to do the same. "He's got the North in his bones, both of them do," she replied.

Jora was a soft-spoken little boy, born into unfortunate circumstances, and raised by a woman who was not his mother. Sansa shouldn't have been so surprised that he waited patiently at mealtimes until it was his turn, and fumbled with a spoon to eat the porridge to prove his independence, or that his grey eyes seemed so intent on the answers to his questions. He watched as far away windows were boarded up and asked "why?"

Val's brusque answers didn't satisfy him. "Because," She'd say then go about hauling the fallen stone from the ledge. He looked to Sansa for a real response, she picked him up and gently explained that it kept the cold out. That it was everyone's responsibility to get the castle ready for winter.

The more windows they boarded, the more confined they became. The longer they were in the castle the more irritable Val appeared. The four of them had been sharing the bed, huddled under the furs they still woke up cold but at least they woke up. Val rolled restlessly, huffing, shoving the furs away with her feet.

"Your bed's too soft," Val stated. Sansa sighed, if she kept talking so loud Rickon would wake up. She slid her feet into slippers, wrapped herself in a fur, and walked to her solar. The fire still burned low in there from the day, Sansa sat before it and waited for Val to join her.

"What's really wrong?" She asked, stirring the fire, trying to draw a flicker of heat. Val settled beside her, she didn't wrap any furs around her shoulders, Beyond the Wall it was always cold. Maybe she welcomed the cold, but she certainly wasn't immune to it, Sansa could see gooseflesh blooming across her skin.

"I told you your bed is too soft," Val grumbled at her, taking the poker from her and drawing up a flame.

"You've been sleeping in that bed nearly everyday we've been here. If you'd like you're more than welcome to sleep on the floor." She couldn't imagine Val would take that offer. The bed was comfortable, they were warm. It was more than anyone else could say.

"I hate this," Val said, tossing the poker. "My whole life I could come and go as I please. Now I'm stuck."

"We're all stuck," Sansa could feel her face scrunching.

"No, you belong in this place. I spent my life avoiding places like this. I want the forest, and fires outside. I can't just be here doing the same thing every day. I feel like I'm confined to a cell, everyday it's worse."

"Some day soon you'll be able to walk outside without freezing. I'm sure it's hard for you to be stuck." She remembered being trapped, but it was not the time for that. "You must promise me you won't do anything foolish, like wander out there for long. There are two little boys in that room who need us around." Sansa said gently. "If it makes you feel like you're at home sleep on the cold floor, wander the halls, step into the snow. You're my best friend and I won't have winter take you from me too." Sansa never realized their definitions of freedom differed so much.

***
Four years had passed. "Why don't you ever talk about your Lord Crow?" Val asked her while they ate lunch. The question startled Sansa. "I thought women like you mourned while their men were away, tore at their clothes, cried all the time. You don't ever do things like that."

iI have to be brave,/i she wanted to say. "I told myself I couldn't do something like that. Of course I miss him, but I know he'll be back."

iOnce they got word that Dorne was days away from the North the panic in Sansa's stomach set in. She tried her best not to let it show, the last thing anyone needed was her worry combined with their own. Still, she found Jon lacing his fingers through her own as they ate their meals together. She couldn't tell if he was trying to quell her fears or his own, it was a comfort nonetheless.

Since they arrived their days were spent apart, for she focused on the stores, and the main keep; while he focused on the battle at hand. Had she still been the same girl who lived in the keep once before, she might have been distraught. Theirs was not a relationship of public affection, but that didn't mean they lacked affection. Their paths crossed rarely during the day, but when they did Sansa's eyes would meet his, and her heart would beat just a bit faster.

Their nights though, they made up for the time lost. Sometimes she would just lean against him while she patched together fur-lined cloaks, and he would help her put together accounts. While he sent for Maester Samwell in Oldtown she began to stitch a favor for him.

Other nights she found herself laying beside him, beneath him, astride him, pressing herself as close to him as their bodies would permit. He would only touch her through her gown. At first she had been disappointed, she wanted everything with Jon. She finally found someone she trusted with all of her, and he wouldn't /idishonori her. When she stepped out of the moment she understood what his words wouldn't say. He didn't want to leave her with a bastard in her belly, unsure of his return from the true war ahead.

It was hard to imagine anything better than his hands on her. Even through her gown she could feel the shape of his hands, leaving imprints on her skin. His mouth would drag up her neck, and sometimes by day she would swear she could still feel it on her.

The day he left they sat in his chambers, the ones that were once her father's, in silence. It would not do to have a tearful goodbye where anyone could see. She had to show her confidence in the effort, and weeping would not reflect confidence. Here in her father's chambers, Jon's chambers, she was free to weep the way a lady would for her lord. He brushed the tears from her cheeks but did not console her as he had before they had taken back Winterfell.

"I need you to be brave for me Sansa," he said softly. "Just for a bit longer, if I-" he hesitated, "-when I come back we will only have spring." He was saying it as a kindness to her, he wouldn't talk about not returning, no matter how likely it was.

"When you come back," she affirmed. "These chambers will truly be yours," they already were. She suspected he harbored the same guilt she did in sleeping in her parents old rooms. As they readied for their march she gave him the favor she had worked so hard to perfect, and he kissed her cheek, their true goodbyes already spoken. "Until you come back," she said again and he nodded. /i

**
"There's horses coming!" Rickon called out. Val raised her eyes to look at Sansa. Ever since Maester Samwell had read the letter, Jon's letter, Rickon had been calling out for horses. It had been nearly two moon's turn, no one had ridden to the gates yet.

Winter had lasted nearly six years. Rickon's japing seemed to be a permanent part of his nature, only encouraged by Val and Satin. Once the ice began to thaw Satin had taken him to learn the basics of sword fighting. The few who remained helped Sansa in the effort to restore the castle to its former glory, building walls from mismatched stones from fallen keeps.

Who was to say she would still be called Queen when they returned? Rickon was the rightful heir. If they took that title at least she would have this. She would be the Stark who rebuilt Winterfell. They wouldn't have to write songs about her grace, or beauty. Her legacy would be here, in the walls, she would never leave this castle.

Rickon was running through the halls, Jora chasing after him as quick as he could, and Shaggydog trailing behind. "Did you hear me? Horses are coming!" He looked more like Robb every day, but the mischief was all Rickon.

"You say that every day," Val reminded him. "Do you remember what I told you before?"

Val had to intervene once when Sansa had gotten to her feet faster than she imagined she was capable of. She ran to the gate, slippers sliding across the stone, and stood to wait. The wind started to bite at her cheeks before the Maester had come to lead her back inside. She had felt as foolish then as she did now when she remembered it.

Val was never the disciplinarian of the two. Val was always the fun one who came up with exhausting tasks that made the boys laugh but sleep easy and through the night once they were done. Perhaps that was why Rickon had taken her so seriously.

"That no one would believe me when it really happens, but it's really happening." He insisted. Sansa turned to Jora, Rickon's second shadow.

"Jora," She knelt down to look in his eyes. "Are there really horses."

"They're holding banners! There's a shield, and a fish, and a sun, and dragons!" He listed, his grey eyes going wide remembering it.

Of course there would be dragons. The King on the iron throne was a Targaryen, and according to Jon true dragons had appeared. Three of them, and a woman. She had sacrificed herself when the dragons became unmanageable.

She hadn't had to count to collect herself in so long, but her body took over. iFive, four,/i they're back, ithree, two,/i and safe ione/i. "Jora, I need you to go and get Maester Sam, as quick as you can go." His brow furrowed determinedly and he took off down the hall.

"I'm faster!" Rickon called to her, he had a look she often saw on Arya's face.

"You are going to find Satin, bring him to the gates." Rickon liked Satin much more than the Maester. "And then to the kitchens, we have rations to spare. Those riding back will likely be hungry." Set with his task Rickon went to find Satin first.

She looked down at her gown, "I should change," she said mostly to herself. Then stopped, her gowns were all work-worn, "I'm being foolish."

"Well it would be about time." She glared at Val. "You were only walking in that, it's fine. Come along." Val guided her briskly to the gates where they met with Maester Samwell. Once he received word that the battle was done he wrote for Gilly, under Sansa's urging, and she would see Val with Dalla's boy.

Ser Brynden's hair was more grey than it was before he left but he was no more frail than she was. Lord Royce was unchanged, if only for the dark look of a man who had seen more than his days would allow. Ghost had found Shaggydog in an instant. Val guided Rickon to her, but lingered behind her. Sansa reached for Rickon's hand and he gave her a worried look. She smiled at him iit's ok,/i she wanted to say but she couldn't get her voice to work.

Jon rode under the dragon banner alongside his half-brother. Jon could not have looked more unlike Aegon. When he first arrived at their broken keep he looked every bit as she imagined a king would. Yet as soon as she saw Jon she could not drag her eyes away. He climbed off his horse and was before her in nearly the blink of an eye.

He held her shoulders in his hands, still a polite distance from her, farther than she would like. His hands dragged down her arms to clasp her own. "Your grace," his voice was softer than she could have imagined, more intent than she had remembered. She had seen the dark look in his eyes before, it called a blush to rise up her chest. iNot yet/i she said, urging Rickon forward. Jon's eyes finally left hers.

She knew he saw Robb first, how could he not? They were a mix of old reminders, and perhaps some day the ache would lessen when she looked at her younger brother and thought of the older one lost, the same way he absently reached for her sometimes like he once had their mother.

"Aegon believes that an alliance is necessary." Jon said as she curled beside him. After they had eaten, after he had bathed, after she had seen Rickon to bed, she found him. She had hardly been in the solar for a minute before his mouth was on hers.

"An alliance?" Jon dragged his mouth from hers and pressed a kiss to her jawline. iHe would not try to take the North by force, that was unexpected/i. "How does he hope to do that? Why would the North take his word?"

"It wouldn't be through his word," Jon said softly into her throat. "It would be through a marriage." She pulled away from him, as though she'd been burned. She would not marry Aegon. Not when her feelings hadn't changed. When Jon's obviously hadn't. "I would understand if you changed your mind," he pulled his eyes from hers. "I'm sure he would agree to something else."

"Jon, why would you think I would accept his proposal?" iWhy would you agree to such a meeting with a woman your half-brother wanted to propose to?/i His eyes downcast, a crease formed between his brow, iunless./i

"Of course," he nodded. He rose and walked across the room, the distance was palpable. She called to him and he froze, hand gripping the ledge.

"Look at me Jon," she moved to stand before him. "You were not asking on behalf of Aegon were you?" His eyes pulled up to hers, wide in realization.

"No," his words ghosted across her lips, the barest of smiles beginning to take shape.

"Ask me again."

And in the end Sansa had married for duty, but she married for love first. In the end she had a choice.

End Notes: Everybody lives and everybody's happy, because that's what fic is for! Thank you all for the follows, reviews, favorites, and support!