As the massacre raged above them, the last living Stark children and the bastard who had become the last Targaryen stood in a circle, knowing in their bones that it would be their last living moments.

"Hold my hand." Arya's voice was barely a whisper but Sansa's tears doubled at the sound of her brave and courageous sister so frightened. There was blood on Arya's palms as she let go of her torso to reach for her sister's hand, groaning in pain as a wound to her ribs began to bleed freely again.

"Look at me one last time," Bran said slowly, eyes unblinking as he studied the faces of his sisters and the man he still viewed as his brother despite all that had come to pass in the low light of the single sconce Sansa had managed to light in the crypts. "I am so proud of all of you," he said, swallowing thickly as he ran a finger over Sansa's cheek and then Arya's knuckles as the siblings joined hands. "This is the only way." His voice slipped back into that of the Raven's, slightly detached but reassuring.

"I am not sure I can do this," Sansa whispered, gripping her siblings hands so tightly that Arya hissed in pain but both refused to let go. They leaned on each other for support as Jon's hand rested on Bran and Sansa's shaking ones as he stood behind his love.

"You can. I believe in you," he whispered encouragingly into her hair and Sansa sagged, leaning back into his chest. He was covered in mud, blood and soot but somehow he still smelled like how she remembered him to. Woodsy and musky with something that was indescribably him. "I love you. Deep in my bones and my very soul I have always and will always love you. I am yours and you are mine," he told her, his eyes boring into hers with so much emotion Sansa's heart caught and stuttered. "I love all of you. My family."

"I am yours and you are mine. May the gods be good to us on the other side," Sansa prayed aloud as she reached over and grabbed the lone sconce from the wall. "May we rejoin our family and rest finally with those we love."

All around their feet, the glistening tell-tale green of wildfire glinted. Sansa had given Arya and Jon each a bottle of the deadly weapon as they had retreated to the crypts as the dead stormed through Winterfell, spilling it generously as they went.

Tyrion had ensure that the entirety of the castle had been doused in the stuff before giving Sansa the word and she watched from her place on the wall as he had been stabbed through the chest whilst his back was turned so he could shout to her. A quick and clumsy fall to the bloody ground and a breath was all it took before he rose again and turned on the Lady of Winterfell with blank, glowing blue eyes.

Through Bran and all of his knowledge, they knew this was the only way, to burn those that fell, but it still tore at Sansa's heart as she sent a burning arrow loose from her bow and she sobbed as it struck true in the late Lord's eye socket.

Wildfire, a weapon that burnt hotter than dragonfire, was to be lit when the Night King and his army has slaughtered their way through the castle. The very last moment, that was what Sansa was waiting for, hiding in the crypts.

The very last moment as she looked into the bright blue eyes of the Night King. They could already hear his footsteps echoing mercilessly as he descended into the crypt in search of the Starks, his army disposing of those who had survived the very worst only to die terrified and hopelessly.

Stood in front of the ill carved statue of Ned Stark, his children, both blood and not, looked at each other one final time as the inhuman eyes of the Night King rounded the corner. He stood for a second, the translucent spikes of ice that resembled his crown caught the light of the fire as Sansa whispered her final prayer and dropped the torch.

"May those I love find peace."

The furious roar of the monstrous King as he charged down the corridor was drowned out. It was less than a second before the flames ignited the wildfire and green engulfed them and all they knew and all Sansa could hear was silence before she became nothing.

The sun had yet to rise over Winterfell and a blanket of stars still hung above the castle.

Offran, the oldest serving chambermaid at Winterfell slipped into the Lord and Lady's chambers to stoke the fire and begin heating the water for the bathing of the couple. Another maid, Varis, followed behind the elder lady and began to light the candles and the Lord's squire would be on his way to get the Lord changed for the days events.

"Shall I rouse the Lord and Lady?" Varis asked as she finished lighting each candle in both their chamber, the room in which they bathed and the Lord's solar and the numerous rooms that connected them all.

Offran paused the gathering of her skirts to nod. "Help me move this pot first. The older I get the heavier it seems to become," she said and the two worked together to hook a heavy iron pot into a hook above the flames. "Fetch some lemons from the glass garden and some rosemary from the maester. Lady Sansa's rooms are next and she will not doubt want to bathe before breaking her fast."

"Yes ma'am," Varis dipped into a small courtesy and she left to gather the fruit from the garden. Offran left soon after to continue her mornings work as the sun finally began to rise, colouring the sky into a bright golden hue which spilt through the windows and over the sleeping couple still tucked under the furs that covered their large oak bed.

The first to stir was Ned, his eyes slowly opening as he shifted his wife accidentally but his eyes closed once more and his breathing evened out. Catelyn's head had been resting upon his chest but she turned on her side and let out a sigh.

A few more minutes of peaceful slumber continued but suddenly, as if a match had been lit under their feet or a loud noise had rung through the chamber, both jumped out from the bed, eyeing each other warily.

They were not dressed in their usual sleeping attire, rather the final outfits they could remember wearing before they had woken up. Catelyn's was stained with crimson blood, as was Ned's.

"Ned," Catelyn whispered, her hands coming up to her throat as tears rolled down her cheeks. She paled at the sight of her blood soaked husband stood before her.

Ned looked at his wife in shock, barely breathing as he touched his own neck, expecting to feel a wound but he was met with smooth skin unmarred except his beard growing in. His stomach twisted at the sight of Cat's ruined gown.

"Catelyn," he breathed. "I feared I would never see you aga-" He cut himself off. "I had an awful dream. I had ridden down to King's Landing on Robert's request and, well," Ned licked his dry lips but Catelyn gathered her skirts and joined him near the hearth, drawing him close so that she could look at him in detail.

"I had the same dream. It felt so real Ned. Robb and I, we... we died at the hands of Old Walder Frey. In the beginning, Lysa, she..."

"Wrote about Jon Arryn's death and Robert rode North to..."

"Declare you Hand of the King. You went to King's Landing with the girls and Sansa was his bastard son's betrothed," she spat finally, fury overtaking her suddenly at the thought or the memory her conscious whispered.

"Perhaps it was no dream," Ned said, running a finger over his wife's cheek and down to the stained collar of her dress. "I was beheaded but it felt so real. I can still hear Sansa's screams and the block under my chin."

"I mourned you. I can still feel the sadness in my breast. My throat was slit from ear to ear. The blood is still running down chest when I close my eyes. I died in this very dress."

"It is not possible."

A harsh series of knocks made the couple jump. Ned cleared his throat and sniffed hard, handing his wife a nearby cloak and draping his own over his shoulders before calling out to whoever it was.

Instead of the squire they were expecting, Robb tumbled through the door, breathing hard and looking frantically around. His tunic had several gashes in the front, exposing his pale skin but no wounds.

"You're alive," he cried out, forgetting himself as he rushed forward and enveloped them in his arms.

"You had the same dream? How is this possible Ned?" Catelyn asked, gripping her son's face between her hands. "I watched you die," she cried.

"I think we need to sit down. Let's break fast and make sure th-"

"Jon!" a cry from outside made the trio jump.

"Was that Sansa?" Robb asked but Ned had already left the chamber, pulling his cloak together as he made his way through the empty halls of his home to the source of the noise. Just walking through Winterfell was surreal to him. The last thing he could remember was praying on the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing.

Out in the snowy courtyard below, Jon Snow was on his knees, cradling Sansa Stark as though he would die if he let her go. They were both crying and saying something to each other but neither could be heard as the wind whipped around them and snowflakes dusted their hair and the ruined cloaks none of the elder Starks could recognise. A shining sword jutted out from under Jon's cloak and glinted in the early morning sunrise.

"Jon! Sansa!" Ned called out and both jumped back, still gripping each other as they looked up to see the Lord of Winterfell towering over them.

"I never thought death would look like this," the trio heard Sansa say as she dragged Jon to meet their father who looked dumbstruck. "You look younger than when you died. Was it lonely? Waiting for mother and Robb?" The questions seemed to rush out of Sansa before she could think.

Ned's thick brows furrowed at both the questions and the fact that neither had let each other's hands go. "My sweet child, you are not dead."

Jon seemed to really look at the girl wrapped in his cloak after Ned had finished speaking. "Pretty girl, you look like you did before you rode for King's Landing and I for the wall. Barely a woman," he told her and Sansa looked up at him, her eyebrows drawn together.

"You are taller than me," she said finally, as she pressed her nose forward and into his chest."I cannot reach your lips anymore. What has happened?"

Robb looked at his siblings with unconcealed anger. "Lips? Sansa? You have not once embraced our brother like you are now. Am I having some sort of dream? Did I really die to wake up confused and surrounded by the ghosts of those I love only to be tortured here?"

Catelyn laid a hand on her husband's arm. "We must take this somewhere private before the rest of the castle wakes up. We have guests from House Karstark. We will break fast in your solar and talk about what we all remembered before waking this morning."

Ned nodded, remembering the riders from Karstark who were bringing several bags of grain and seeds to Winterfell. The knowledge jolted him, unable to recall the ACT clearly in his previous life but he knew his wife was right.

"Where's Arya and Bran? Have they woken here too?" Jon asked and Catelyn glared at him.

"Why would you think the youngest of my children have been tortured like this if what Robb has said is true?" she asked and Sansa stood taller than ever before, putting her body between Jon and her mother.

"I am incapable at expressing how happy I am to see you once more Mother but I must warn you, I am no longer the shallow, placid girl I once was. I will not stand by idly as you poison the man I love with your jealous barbs," she warned and her parents blinked in unmasked shock. Catelyn staggered back into her husband's arms at the outburst.

To those around her, Sansa physically looked as if she was barely three and ten but before her parents and her brother's eyes, she echoed the Northern Queen she had been before her final fatal actions.

"The man you love?" Robb echoed and his face became a stormy mix of emotions. As if by reflex, his hands were scrabbling at his side for a weapon that was not there.

"We must take our leave now as the castle is beginning to awaken. I will wake Arya and Bran and meet you all in my solar," Ned commanded his family, halting his wife's protest with a kiss to her lips. "Go."

"There is no need Father," Arya's voice made Sansa's heart skip several beats. "We are here and we remember." The two emerged from the shadows of the stables, holding each other's hands.

"This is not death," Bran said, his emotionless tone still somehow there but rather than bundled into his chair, Bran was a boy, stood on his own legs and significantly younger than he had been.

"I implore you all, to my solar now," Ned said once more, spotting a smithy walking across the snowy grounds towards the forgery below them.

As the family entered the solar, Ned looked around the space, remembering everything just as he had left it before taking the Hand of the King. The scrolls and books still lay across one of the oak tables and a fire burned steadily in the hearth.

"It's back to how it was," Robb said in disbelief but Sansa's tears distracted him.

"There is no trace of him. The banners still hang and the tapestry is here," she seemed to tell Jon but Robb frowned.

"I am going slowly mad I believe," Catelyn said to herself as she sat down on one of the seats warily, as if the very thought exhausted her.

"Mother, Father, Robb, allow me to explain," Bran said but Ned began to laugh as he sat behind his desk.

"My son, a boy of only nine. I do not doubt you but how can you explain this strangeness away when you have barely lived," he said good naturedly but Bran remained standing. His eyes were the same as he had died. They held wisdom and knowledge and age in them.

"You died. All of us in the very castle died fighting. Father, you were betrayed in King's Landing by Petyr Baelish and you lost your head because of your honor. You left Sansa and Arya to the hands of those in King's Landing." Ned sobered at the information and sat quietly, stuck dumb at the reminder.

"Mother, your refusal to release Jaime Lannister meant that Sansa was humiliated and beaten by the Lion's court and forced to marry Tyrion, the Imp. You died at the hands of Roose Bolton who's bastard almost destroyed Sansa." Catelyn snatched an empty water basin and vomited noisily yet Bran continued.

"Robb you died holding the body of your cooling dead wife. You became King in the North and yet you died, Grey Wind's head sewn onto your neck and paraded around by the Freys."

"Enough Bran!" Ned demanded looking pale and shaky.

"Talisa," Robb breathed out but Bran continued to speak despite the interruptions, his eyes glassy as though he were having a vision.

"Arya watched Father's head being cut from his body. She became no-one. Killed to survive and then continued to kill in revenge. She took faces and names and made it back to Winterfell only to die in the wildfire."

"Jon Snow is not my brother but-"

"I beg of you enough!" Ned roared, cutting Bran off.

"The son my our Aunt Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, the true heir to the Iron Throne. He died a brother of the Night's Watch but rose again to be the Lord Commander and then the King in the North. He brought the Wildlings south of the Wall and fought besides his aunt Daenerys Targaryen and her dragons. He loved my sister and he died in the wildfire!" Bran's voice became louder and bolder with each word he spoke.

"Bran there is no need, they understand," Sansa said softly as Jon's hand landed on her shoulder despite Catelyn's look of utter horror and Ned's head hanging low.

Jon glanced over at Robb and shifted his stance, ready to run and catch him should he fall to the floor.

"Sweet Sansa. Queen of the North. The Red Wolf of Winterfell. You learnt the game of thrones at the hand of a mad Queen and outlived everyone who had done you wrong. You outlived Joffrey, played Littlefinger at his own game and won, you fed Ramsay Bolton to his own dogs and you loved fiercely. You lit the spark that started the wildfire that killed us but you were the only one who could."

"Is this true? How are you to know? My sweet son," Ned's voice was hoarse as Robb sunk to his knees beside the fire and Jon went to join him but he held up a hand to halt his brother. Arya looked torn between her father and Robb but she pulled Needle out from her scabbard and placed in on her father's desk.

"Bran Stark. You were pushed from the broken tower by Jaime Lannister who had been coupling with his sister Cersei. You were the first to know about their bastard children and you became crippled. You and Rickon went north of the Wall and you became the Three Eyed Raven. All knowing, all seeing, you were the one who foresaw the end of Winterfell and the war with the Night King through the green flames of wildfire," she said, looking at her brother and then to the others in the room.

Catelyn vomited once more into the bowl and then reached over the desk for her husband's hand. "Gods give me the strength. Guide me through this," she muttered.

"I know this is hard for you to understand but we have already lived this life once. The Gods are blessing us. I saw this before the Night King broke through the Wall. We have been reborn into our bodies before Jon Arryn's murder with our memories and knowledge of what could possibly lie ahead," Bran told them.

"You still possess the abilities of the Three Eyed Raven," Sansa said in a calm, measured voice.

"Aye, he does, and I am going to go North and live out my days with the Wildlings," Robb scoffed, skeptical. "We have died and this is death."

"We shall have visitors as the day ages who will help," he told them. Robb began to laugh.

Ned finally lifted his head and met the clear Tully eyes of his eldest daughter. He took a great deep breath. "I do not think my mind could fabricate such an afterlife as this. I do not care if I am dead or reborn. All of the people I love most in this world are stood before me breathing."

"Is it true," Catelyn asked quickly, looking upon Jon with new eyes. "He is Lyanna's son? No more secrets. This family was ripped apart once because of them."

"Aye, you are right as always my love," Ned sighed, deflating back in his chair. "They married in secret before Robert killed Rhaegar. Howland Reed was the only other living soul to know. I was going to tell you after my return to Winterfell but, if Bran is to be believed, I never made it home in that life."

"He is still my brother. You are still a Stark regardless of that," Robb said suddenly, fiercely pointing to Jon and to his father.

"Jon is and always was a Stark," Arya said. "He is never going to be anything but a Stark."

"Lyanna's son," Catelyn echoed, looking upon Jon with horror. "My nephew."

"For what it is worth Lady Stark, you were forgiven a long time ago and if this is a fresh life, you are forgiven here too," Jon told her and Sansa smiled up at him.

"You married in your last life," Ned's statement was delivered more like a question and Sansa turned to her father confidently.

"I married three times in my last life Father. Once to Tyrion Lannister but it was unconsummated and we remained friends and allies until our deaths. Lord Baelish then sold me to the Boltons and married me off to the heinous Ramsay," Sansa shuddered involuntarily.

"He's dead. You killed him," Arya reminded her, much to her parents' discomfort.

"He died in that life. In this life he is still living," Sansa said darkly. "So many of our enemies are living and breathing."

"My list has become long once more," Arya replied in a way which made Robb step away from her slightly.

"But Jon?" Catelyn said, choosing to ignore the unpleasantness Arya's words had brought. "You married Jon."

"A man who is brave and gentle and strong and who loves me. That is the kind of man Father promised me he would wed me to once he realised how cruel Joffrey was. I was mistreated by every man who stepped into my life after Father's murder. Every single one of them had ulterior motives. I was a prize because of my name, or my beauty or my home. My body was seen as something to conquer and use. Only two men sought my happiness and safety. One was Tyrion Lannister so that his own happiness would be secure and the other was Jon. He saved me from the Boltons, took back our home and helped me rebuild myself and Winterfell. Bran had already seen Jon's birth and Howland Reed confirmed it."

"I understand that this may look sinful to you but I will lay down my life to protect Sansa. There is no other woman for me on this Earth," Jon said, his voice steady and calm but Sansa could see the tension in his shoulders. His voice was not yet as gruff as it had once been but the truth and emotion carried regardless.

She didn't know if he had realised but Jon was stood with his feet apart and his hand on Longclaw, as if he was expecting a sword to come hurtling towards him. Robb and Ned did not miss the defensive fighting stance.

"We must talk. Each one of us must talk uninterrupted and recall our last life. Father, Mother, Robb, you were the first ones to die and have missed so much," Arya said suddenly, slipping her hand into Needle's hilt and twisting the blade with ease until it was sheathed in her belt.

"You were always good with a sword," Robb grinned weakly. "Fine, we will break our fast and go in order. Everything you can remember about the life you led before waking this morning."

"We should write it all down," Sansa suggested already thinking about how much she knew and the possibility of her missing something out.

The seven Starks looked between one another and then got on with their task. Ned called for a squire to bring the family's morning food to his solar and then instructed him to ensure that only dire emergencies pulled them from the room.

And so they sat scattered around the large room, eating their oats in silence whilst writing all that they could remember.

Sansa wrote a general recount of her life before delving into all of the secrets and knowledge she had amassed that neither of her parents knew about. Petyr Baelish and the strings and plots he had weaved took an entire roll of parchment whilst the War of the Five Kings and the Long Winter took her nearly an hour to write. Her hand was cramping by the time the sun had reached its midpoint in the sky but she still had more to write.

Arya's scratchy penmanship made her writing difficult to read and she glossed over her training with the Faceless man but wrote streams about those who had ever done her family wrong and how she had killed them in the last life. She hadn't realised until she had finished that as she had retold Sansa and Jon's reunion, she had mentioned her own love. Gendry would be in Flea Bottom at this moment. The thought knocked her and she sat staring into the fire for the rest of the afternoon, recalling the flames in the forge as he had crafted weapons out of dragonglass, wondering if he had awoken with her face is in his mind's eye or if he didn't know of her now.

Ned and Catelyn had both finished well before their children. Robb was pestering Jon as he wrote, too eager to hear his brother's story than to wait until nightfall when they had agreed to share all that they had written.

"Ned, if this truly is a second chance at life then I refuse to lose you and our children once more," Catelyn told him as she set down her quill. "Your honour killed you before Ned. If Jon Arryn's murder is to relight the spark then I implore you to listen to my council."

Ned looked into his wife's bright blue eyes with a fond smile. "I always listen to your council and this strangeness will not change that."

"I mean it Ned. I will not hear about your death like I did before. It killed me." There were tears gathering in Catelyn's lashes and it pained Ned to think about what it must have been like for her.

"Can you believe our son is the Three Eyed Raven," Ned asked, changing the subject as he looked over at Bran who was scribbling away on his parchment so viciously and fast that Ned feared he would put his quill through the fibres. "Old Nan used to tell us stories about an all-knowing man but I thought they were just silly stories."

"Arya became an assassin." Catelyn's voice was barely audible but her hand found her husband's and she gripped him hard. "They say that the Faceless men can take the faces of the dead and wear them like clothes."

The thought made Ned's skin crawl but just seeing his daughter sat on her knees in front of the fire made him breathe a little easier. "She survived. They all survived without our guidance and we cannot fault them, regardless of how they did it."

"M'Lord," a faint voice was followed by several knocks on the heavy door to the solar.

"Come," Ned called out, knowing his castle would not pester them unless they were desperately needed.

Ser Rodrik Cassel entered the solar, his weathered face barely changing in expression as he looked around at the family. "A rider and a Wildling-looking man have arrived and they have demanded to speak to only the Red Wolf of Winterfell and her Crow husband," the man said, slightly confused as he delivered the message. "Shall I have to bannermen throw them out?"

Sansa looked over at Jon.

"You are the Red Wolf of Winterfell," Ned said to his daughter and she nodded, biting her lip.

Ser Rodrik nodded, the hair under his chin bobbing as he did. His face remained impassive as though he had suspected Sansa to hold the moniker. "And her Crow husband would be..."

"Me," Jon told him, setting his shoulders back proudly although he was frowning deeply.

"What do they look like Ser?" Catelyn asked as Rodrik and Ned's brows creased with a frown.

Rodrik couldn't help but chuckle to himself. "Great handsome woman dressed in bloody armour and a red headed wilding-looking man who was looking at her as though she hung the stars in the sky."

"Brienne!" Arya gasped in delight, pushing up from the floor in front of the hearth, a smile on her face. "Do you think she remembers as well?"

"We cannot let a Wildling into the castle. The men will be up in arms," Robb said quickly but Jon was already leaving the solar, following the old man to the courtyard.

"Crow!" Tormund shouted, forgetting he was sat behind Brienne on the stallion and that he was shouting directly into her ear.

"We do not know their predicament," Brienne hushed Tormund, wishing she could reach for her sword and poke him between the ribs. She settled for an elbow to the gut but Tormund's groan sounded more pleased than Brienne liked.

The duo were still mounted on their steed, surrounded by Stark men pointing their swords all around them.

"What are we to do if they do not remember?" Brienne worried aloud, gripping the Stallion's mane tighter between her fingers. She realised that the brunt of the swords were aiming for Tormund and she knew that if things were to go sour, it would be hard to reign the Wildling in. The likelihood of blood being split was high.

"Lady Brienne of Tarth," Jon Snow's voice rang out over the courtyard and some of the men glanced at one another. Ned and Robb followed behind him, neither looking too concerned that the Stark bastard was addressing the two riders.

"Lord Crow," Tormund said, appearing over the Knight's shoulder. "You got smaller."

"And you seem to forget your place," Jon replied, his face breaking out into a grin. Tormund remembered, that much was clear to Jon.

"I am here to pledge my sword to the Red Wolf and her house," Brienne told the family, hoping that Sansa was somewhere and remembered. She was afraid to ask for Sansa by name in case she didn't.

The redhead stepped out from behind her father, her lips quirking. "The Red Wolf accepts your sword," Sansa told her and Brienne almost cried out in relief. Sansa and Jon remembered. That was all that was important.

"A chamber will be made for Lady Brienne and her... companion," Catelyn instructed her maids as the two slipped off the horse. Some of the bannermen shifted uneasily, about to protest until Ned held out his hand, silencing their worries.

"We welcome you to our home," he said and then nodded his head towards both guests. "My daughter Sansa will be responsible for your well being whilst you are at Winterfell and if anyone causes you any grief, tell my daughter."

The bannermen and guards looked at the young Stark, noticing she carried herself differently to the way they remembered. They dispersed back to their duties, some slower than others as Tormund grinned manically as he brought Jon into a fierce hug.

"How on Earth did you manage to ride here so quickly?" Sansa asked, crossing the snow to greet her friend once the courtyard had cleared. "Where did you come from?"

"Tormund caught the beast. Demanded we ride for Winterfell and he was my only option," Brienne told her truthfully. "I woke up buried in snow at dawn and wandered around thinking I must have crossed over into heaven but then the Wildling came from nowhere, a bloody great stick in his hand shouting about Gods and all."

"We will be retreating to my solar once more Rodrik. We will not be joining the rest of the castle at sup tonight," Ned told his man, leading the rest of his family closer to where Sansa and Jon were greeting the strangers.

"Father, Robb, this is Lady Brienne of Tarth. She was my sworn sword in our last life. The fiercest warrior I knew," Sansa told those who were clueless.

"I remember seeing you," Catelyn said, nodding as she looking at the dents in Brienne's armour. "You swore your sword to me."

Brienne nodded, dirty blonde hair falling into her eyes as she dipped her chin. "I did my lady but..."

"It was not meant to be. I am happy that you were there for my daughter when I could not," Catelyn replied, slipping her arm into the crook of Ned's as she felt another wave of nausea pass over her as she remembered the fear of not knowing if Sansa was alive or dead.

"I remember now why Winterfell always felt like it could be a good home," Tormund said in awe, looking around the courtyard and up at the towers and the castle walls.

"Aye, that it is," Ned replied tightly. He knew that this man had been an ally to his children but he was still a Wildling. He didn't know the man.

"Tormund Giantsbane, this is my father, Ned Stark," Sansa introduced the two men, recognising the tension in the air as Ned grit his teeth and Tormund rolled his shoulders. "It looks as though you could now spar with Arya like you always wanted to," she added to the wild man as Arya greeted Brienne.

"She's even smaller now than before. It would be unfair," the man replied, sizing up Arya and realising she only stood as high as his torso. "So do you now. Never could look down on you before."

Sansa frowned. Whilst she had been subconsciously ashamed of her tall stature whilst she had been in King's Landing in the beginning, Sansa's confidence came from being able to look those around her in the eye or down on them.

"I don't like it," she told him quietly. "I was Lady of Winterfell, a wife, a Queen and now I am nothing but a child of ten and three."

"You have the knowledge of your last life and all that is coming for us." Jon was suddenly behind her, resting a hand on her shoulder as he murmured into her ear. "You are still Lady of Winterfell and you are still my wife."

"I am all for you having your woman Snow, but don't let anyone else hear you saying that. She's barely a woman and you're her brother again," Tormund said under his breath, his eyes on Catelyn as she glared at Jon and Sansa.

"We should retire to my solar. We can talk more freely there," Ned said, clapping his hands roughly and switching his weight from either of his feet. Catelyn and Robb were equally nervous, both at the arrival of the strangers and Jon's words which carried on the wind. "I will start with my recount."

AN: I am posting this simultaneously o so go show it some love over there as well if you want.

I know I have a lot going on / lots to update and post but this will be my focus until it is finish now

as always, please review, follow, read and enjoy!

Pops xo