The Queen in the North deals with recent events.

I'm gonna stop saying "we're back" after a long hiatus. I'm sure it gets old.

I've changed my mind about posting this on AO3. At least for now. I'll wait until it's finished, then I can try to edit everything in fewer chapters.

Another thing. I'm finding this one POV per chapter format a bit too limiting. I might change this up for certain future chapters, when many things happen at the same time.

But that's for later. Let's enjoy this for now.

41. Consequences - Sansa

Arya Stark of Winterfell,

If you are reading this, our agent has failed. And a girl has learned much.

However, our secrets belong to members of our Order. When you left us, it was under the assumption that you would also leave behind what you've learned. Our gifts are sacred. We serve the Many-Faced God, not ourselves. We are no one.

You made the choice to become someone, Arya of House Stark. You have no right to use our secrets for your own purposes. We know about House Frey. We know about Petyr Baelish. And we know about your list. This was only our first attempt. The agent we sent was inexperienced, fresh out of training.

Now you have another choice to make.

If you decide to stop, to never wear another face and to never kill again, this will be the end of it. We'll let you live the rest of your days in peace.

If you continue on your current path of using our secrets to satisfy your personal desires, we will hunt you down. Every drink you sip, every food you eat, everything you touch… Nothing will ever be safe for you. Until you receive the gift, every face you see could be one of our agents. The only peace you'll find is death.

Choose wisely.

Valar Morghulis.

Sansa read the letter once again, trying to keep her hands from shaking. Arya had found it inside a pocket of the assassin. The Faceless Man, as everyone knew now. They couldn't keep the truth hidden. Her sister was found near the body, holding a wrinkled piece of skin. However, most believed their Queen had been the target.

Brienne had apologised many times, blaming herself for Jonquil's death. I've been lax in my duties, Your Grace. Please forgive me, she had said, her voice contrite with shame. Following the attempt, she had taken it upon herself to become Sansa's food taster, besides shadowing her every move.

"You don't have to follow me everywhere, Brienne." She said, as they were walking over to the godswood. "As I've told you many times, I wasn't the target."

The tall woman shook her head, her expression severe. "I made a promise to your mother and I intend to keep it, Your Grace. Lady Catelyn bade me to protect her children to the best of my abilities." Her blue eyes wavered a bit, but her hand gripped the hilt of her sword tightly. "Any threat to you or your sister is a threat to me."

Sansa felt her expression softening. She had many sweet memories of her mother, and it made her heart swell with pride that someone else had been affected by the woman. "Thank you for your loyalty, then. Let us see what my sister has decided."

Upon reading the letter, Arya had bolted to speak to Bran. When you have access to someone who can see everything, it's foolish to ignore them. They were sitting near the Heart Tree, both awfully quiet for some reason. Bran on his wheeled chair and Arya on the snowy ground, her knees bent in front of her and her arms crossed over.

"Well?" She asked, looking from one to the other. "What have you learned?"

Arya didn't move her head, continuing to stare at the distance with her grey eyes unfocused. "Nothing." Was her only reply.

"My sight is limited." Bran explained in his usual monotone. "I cannot see across the Narrow Sea, or anywhere beyond the continent of Westeros."

Sansa frowned. "Why?"

"My eyes are bound to weirwood trees." He stared back at her, emotionless.

That doesn't make sense, she thought, knowing that very little about the Three-eyed Raven actually made any sense at all. "But you can see everything that happens in the south, and there aren't many weirwoods there."

"While the invading First Men, Andals and Rhoynar have cut and burned many trees in the past, their roots grew deep. Especially the first one in the Isle of Faces." Bran breathed deeply, closing his eyes as he put a hand on the Heart Tree. "Nothing will escape my sight on this land."

Good for you, but that doesn't help us now. Turning to Arya, she said, "We'll have to work with the information available to us. If that letter is true, it seems our next step is clear."

Her sister rose to stand up, patting the snow away from her breeches. "And what's that?"

"You will stop."

It's obvious, really. The Faceless Men hadn't given them a choice at all. Life or death? Only a madwoman would choose the latter.

"Is that a command, Your Grace?" Arya asked, like a madwoman.

"Do I need to command you to live in peace? You've read the letter, you know their terms. Is it so terrible to stop killing?" Sansa hadn't asked about her sister's past, but whatever she went through must have twisted her to the core.

"It's not that simple…" She ran a hand over her hair, letting out a sigh. "I can't just stop being who I am. If anything, reading that letter just made me want to return to Braavos and finish what I started." Her eyes narrowed. "I should've killed them all when I had the chance."

"Arya…" Sansa started, trying to find the right words to pull her sister back from the abyss of death and destruction. "I know you never wanted to be a lady, but there are many other ways you can still live a peaceful life without a husband." Turning to her side for help, she asked, "Isn't that right, Brienne?"

The tall woman hesitated. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but I wouldn't use my own journey as a good example of a peaceful life. Had I not killed, we wouldn't be here at Winterfell right now."

So much for support, Sansa thought, without really blaming her sworn shield. She's not wrong.

"And that's just one problem with their threat." Arya raised a hand to Brienne, while turning her head from one to the other. "I'm not allowed to kill again. Ever. What if someone attacks me? Or attacks you? What am I supposed to do then?"

Sansa waved a hand. "Killing isn't the only way to respond, and you know that. Even that assassin yesterday, you didn't have to kill her." Maester Wolkan had found two fatal stab wounds after his examination of the body. "We could've learned more about their terms, or how she found her way here, or something, anything else, but you ended that possibility."

"Some people are too dangerous to be left alive." Arya said, her grey eyes cold as steel.

"Perhaps that's true." Sansa conceded, nodding slightly. "But why should that be your decision? Because you have the power to kill them?" She remembered their first conversation about Littlefinger, and how similar it was to the one they were having now. I suppose it's about time we get this straight.

Her sister fixed her with a glare for several heartbeats, until her lips finally parted, "Yes. From what I've seen of this world, you're either killing or being killed." Her eyes drifted off to the side, becoming unfocused. "The survivors are just better killers."

Is that what I am? A killer? Sansa began to doubt herself, thinking about her sister's words. I fed Ramsay to his dogs, but he deserved it. He was a killer too. His mistake was keeping me alive. Does that make me a better killer than him? A cold breeze made her shiver in her boots.

Arya continued speaking, "Those arrogant assassins claim to work for their god, but at the heart of it they're just the best killers. And they don't work for free. Since the Many-Faced God doesn't collect taxes, all that gold must go to someone's pockets." Her words were starting to make sense. It all boils down to gold in the end, I suppose.

"So… what are you saying?"

Her lips curled in a tight smile. "They're afraid of me. They must be. Why else would they waste a potential Faceless Man just to kill me? And promise further attempts?" She seemed to be figuring things out as she spoke, for her legs started moving as she paced from side to side, keeping a hand under her chin and her brows furrowed in concentration. "The letter mentioned their secrets, so that's part of it… If I were to reveal their secrets, they wouldn't be the only ones with that power… They'd lose so many clients…" Her voice was barely louder than a whisper at the end.

"Ar-"

"That's it!" Her sister interrupted with a shout, her eyes wide at some revelation. Walking closer, she put her hands on Sansa's shoulders and said, "I know what I have to do. It might take a while, but it should fix everything."

"You're not going to tell me your plan, are you?"

Arya grinned, her eyes twinkling. "See? We're finally understanding each other, sister. Don't worry, you'll learn when I'm ready to take action. Until then, I promise I won't kill again."

Sansa sighed, slumping her shoulders. That's better than nothing. "Fine. As long as the attempts stop, we should be safe." She paused to take a good look at her sister. The young woman had a determined expression on her face. "In the meantime, what do we do about Littlefinger?"

"I won't be able to use his face anymore, so it'd be best if his body was discovered by someone." Arya offered, shrugging.

She considered her options. After Robin Arryn left for Eastwatch leaving the other Vale lords at Winterfell, they learned that the face of Petyr Baelish wasn't as well-liked as the man loved to claim. Most lords and ladies seemed to hate the man, believing him to be a bad influence over the young Lord Arryn. They'd be glad to know he's gone, but that doesn't mean we can admit to have killed him.

"Perhaps we could blame the Faceless Man for his death." She decided, figuring that would be their best available choice. "Someone will find the body and I could convince maester Wolkan to stay quiet about how long he's been dead. Hopefully, the Vale lords won't look too deeply into it."

Sansa had hoped to put the man on trial to prove his many crimes, and she had even considered using Arya's talents to that extent, but it might be best to simply move on. He's dead. Let it go.

The quiet, muffled sound of paws stepping on snow made them turn around to face Ghost. The direwolf was usually silent when he didn't want to be noticed, so it was clear he wanted to greet them.

Arya reacted first, moving quickly to his side. "Hey, boy…" She said softly, placing her gloved hand on his head. Ghost closed his red eyes for a bit, enjoying the contact. "How's Lady Alys?" Arya asked, looking from the happy wolf to Sansa. "Have you seen her since the attempt?"

"Yes. I checked on her right after." She had been worried about the pregnant lady even before learning there was an assassin in Winterfell. "The woman seemed to put on a strong front, but I could tell she was terrified." Glancing at Brienne, she turned back to Arya. "I'm considering sending someone to keep her safe."

"I'll keep her safe." Arya said, without hesitation. Her eyes lingered on Ghost for a moment, before drifting back. "We can't trust anyone outside this godswood. Besides, I'd like to get to know her."

Sansa inclined her head, smiling. "As you wish." After a short pause, she continued, "I suppose we should all get to know her too. She'll be part of the family soon." Even if Jon doesn't marry her, the woman will still be the mother of his child.

"A raven from Eastwatch, Your Grace." Maester Wolkan said, offering her the small parchment.

She thanked him and read quickly. As her eyes scanned the words, she felt the spark of hope burning in her chest. The plan worked! Tormund was returning to Winterfell with a wight. Lord Glover and several Vale knights had died, but it seemed a small price to pay for proof about the Army of the Dead. Now we can finally convince everyone!

"Good news, I hope?" Brienne was examining her face.

Sansa nodded with a smile. "Great news." Turning to the maester, she asked, "How long will it take for them to arrive?"

"Anywhere between five and ten days, Your Grace." The man hedged. "It depends on how high the snows have settled on the road."

Sansa considered. That's too long. Anything could happen in the meantime. "I need to send word to Jon about this."

"Would you like me to write it?"

"No, I'll go see Bran first." She rose to stand up. "Excuse me."

Walking quickly, she left her solar and went to the godswood with Brienne right by her side, shadowing her every move. Upon arrival, they found the Three-eyed Raven on his usual spot. Doesn't he ever grow bored? Or can he even feel that anymore?

"Don't send the letter to Dragonstone." He said, without turning his head to greet her. "Jon isn't there anymore."

Sansa didn't bother asking how he knew. "Then where do I send it? He needs to know about this." She said, waving the paper.

"King's Landing." His monotone voice replied. "Address it to Tyrion Lannister. He'll know what to do."

That was odd. "Why not Jon?"

"He won't be in the right state of mind to deal with this." Bran's words held no emotion, but something about them made her heart sink to her stomach. What happened to him?

Sansa paused, unsure if she wanted to hear it. "Is… he in danger?"

"Don't worry. He'll get better when he sees Arya again."

"Arya?" That doesn't make sense. "But she's here at Winterfell."

After their conversation about that letter from the Faceless Men several days ago, Arya had spent most of her time with Alys Karstark, following the pregnant lady of Karhold almost everywhere. One would think she's in the Kingsguard, protecting the future princess. Sansa blinked. Princess? Now I'm hoping for a girl too.

Sansa herself had grown a bit closer to Alys. After the revelation of her pregnancy, the woman seemed almost ashamed to speak to her Queen. With some prodding, the young lady had revealed she was afraid they would think she did this on purpose, as a way to force Jon to marry her.

But nobody forced him to sleep with you, Sansa had replied without hesitation. It takes two to make a babe, and Jon should've known better. If anyone had been forced in that situation, it was the lady, not the king. When her brother returned to Winterfell, Sansa would have a few choice words for him.

Bran sighed, in what was probably the first expression of emotion she had seen him display since his arrival as the Three-eyed Raven. Perhaps he does grow bored sometimes. "Do you plan on leaving Winterfell to attend the wedding of Aegon Targaryen to Cersei Lannister?"

"Of course not." If she had her way, Sansa would never leave her home again.

"And Brienne doesn't seem willing to leave your side." He said, looking up at her sworn shield. The woman gave a slight nod, confirming his statement. After a short pause, he continued, "Therefore, Arya would be the natural choice to represent your interests in King's Landing."

"I suppose…" But what if she decides to kill Cersei? Everyone would assume it was an order from the Queen in the North, and Sansa would be left to shoulder the consequences of her sister's actions. Again.

As if reading her mind, Bran said, "She won't kill Cersei. At least not until she deals with the House of Black and White."

"Should I send her south right now?" Sansa asked, worried for Jon. He's been gone too long. "Is the wedding going to happen soon?"

Bran stared at her with those dead blue eyes, impassive. "Tyrion Lannister wishes to use the wedding ceremony for another purpose, so it should take a while. However, if your concern for Jon Snow is too great for your conscience to bear, sending Arya sooner might ease his pain."

She had more questions to ask, but something told her that each answer would simply make her even more curious. Speaking with him is like stitching an intricate pattern on a large fabric. Sometimes you can catch a glimpse of something you recognise up close, but as the needle works the pattern changes, becoming more and more confusing. And only the Three-eyed Raven can see the entire fabric.

"I'll go find her." Sansa decided. If Jon was in pain, she would help him in whatever way she could.

I finally transcribed a letter. As I wrote it, the game Skyrim came to mind. Specifically, the Dark Brotherhood (WE KNOW).

My original plan was to have Sansa convince Arya to give up the killing. However, as they started discussing it, Arya's arguments made a lot of sense and I couldn't counter them in a satisfying way.

I know it sounds weird since I'm the one writing this, but sometimes the characters write themselves. Plans and outlines are nice to have, but when you actually start writing each chapter you finally understand how complex these things are. It's no wonder GRRM is stuck.

25/08/2019