01. Welcome Home

The air was sharper at the official confirmation that winter had arrived in Westeros. Sansa couldn't help but imagine the faces of the southerners, and she smiled despite herself. They would hate it—hate how the days would grow short and the air would create goose bumps on their fragile skin as a cool breeze passed by. She could hear them already, complaining about the long, drab nights and praying for the return of the summer years. Sansa hoped they prayed to their gods, wishing for them to answer the request of a short winter. She hoped because she knew their prayers would go unanswered. Winter had finally come and every nerve in her body trembled with the notion that it was going to stay for a long time.

Despite the feeling of change, it all looked the same—the land her family had called their own for so long. It looked almost as it had before she was made to leave. The trees stood tall and unshaken from the polar winds and heavy snow. The white powder that swirled in the air landed quietly among thousands of millions of their brothers in the hopes of blanketing the world forever. From atop the castle battlement, Sansa's eyes fixated on the footprints that indented the road leading out from Winterfell. She felt as if she could still pinpoint where hers would have landed.

"My lady," a soft voice said from behind her. Sansa turned her head to look over her shoulder. With little surprise, she saw Brienne of Tarth standing at the entrance of a drum tower. Sansa had to praise the woman for being able to move such a large frame with diligence and stealth.

"Yes?" Sansa answered, slightly looking back over the land.

Brienne lowered her head in a brief nod. "Lord Snow wishes to speak with you in his chambers."

Despite the want to stay where she was, she knew Jon wouldn't have called for her for no reason. She was quite sure that she already knew what he wanted to speak about. She had been more than just a little distant of late. So she nodded to Brienne and said, "I'll be there in a moment."

It wasn't until she knew that the knight had taken her leave that Sansa took steps away from the wall's edge and toward the entrance to the staircase. The stairs were lit up just enough to see clearly, casting a soft glow on the stonewalls, but still, she took each step with a slower movement than necessary, her left hand feeling the wall next to her. Her fingertips slightly dug into the towered stones, trying to feel some kind of familiarity, but all she felt were small scratches forming on her skin.

Brienne was waiting at the bottom of the stairs—strong and unwavering. She nodded when she saw Sansa appear from the staircase and began to walk forward, knowing Sansa would follow suit down the hallway. The two of them walked in silence, and Sansa was, not for the first time, glad for the woman's withdrawn demeanor. So instead of their voices making unnecessary small talk being heard through the melancholy corridors, it was only their echoing footsteps on the stone flooring. It was something they both preferred.

Stopping halfway down the corridor, Brienne stood silently as Sansa stepped in front of the heavy wooden door leading to Jon's chambers. Sansa, knocking lightly on the door, nodded Brienne's dismissal and entered into Jon's room. The door clicked shut softly behind Sansa as she turned around to look at Jon. He was sitting in a chair next to the fire, studying it rather than glancing up at her. Even from where she stood, Sansa could see the flames flickering in the reflection of his eyes—always growing heavier with guilt and burden every time she saw him. She knew he wasn't the only one. It was a feeling they both deeply shared, but were reluctant to speak of.

Sansa moved away from the door to sit in the chair across from him. "You wanted to see me?"

It was only after she spoke that he looked up to lock eyes with her. "Your presence has been missed in the day light."

A small twitch of a smile began at the corner of her mouth at Jon's statement. She couldn't see anyone like Tormund or Ser Davos caring that she hadn't been around lately. There was very little doubt that anyone but Jon even noticed that her person had been missing from court, but it was clear he didn't wish to admit it.

"You were up on the east wall again." Jon wasn't asking a question, but merely stating the obvious. He was still looking at her, but she has moved her gaze to where his had been when she had arrived. The fire was much less accusing. "You're troubled."

His statement surprised her for it sounded as her actions surprised him. How could she not be troubled? Sansa wanted to ask him how he felt but decided it was best not to press the subject. Instead, she simply said, "I'm restless. Anxious."

"Anxious?"

Sansa shifted her gaze back to her brother. Guilt pulled at her heartstrings every time he looked at her like this—full of worry and concern. She, more than anyone, knew that she didn't deserve it. "What we ended with the Bolton's is just the beginning. Good or bad, everyone knows there's more to come."

"So you think spending your time staring at the Kingsroad is going to settle your nerves?" Sansa didn't know how pleased she was with Jon's tone.

Understanding that their conversation was quickly coming to an ugly point, Sansa stood up. "It's better than being continuously shielded by the walls," was all she said. She had taken only a step away from her chair before she felt Jon's hand grasp hers. He was standing now, too. He squeezed her hand as he faced her.

No matter how hard she wanted there to be, there was not one memory that came to the forefront of her mind where she and Jon had shared a family touch before all this. Lady Catelyn had been a wonderful, strong woman, one Sansa could only hope to be one day, but her treatment of Jon was one thing Sansa wished she hadn't blindly mimicked. It never ceased to amaze her that Jon was so willing to give her his kindness and care. She vowed herself to be worthy of it.

Giving Jon a tight smile and a squeeze of his hand in reassuring reply, Sansa said, "I'll be more present, I promise." And she did.

Jon returned her small smile and nodded. It was all he could ask for and he accepted that. With nothing more she wished to say, Sansa slipped her hand out of Jon's and walked toward the door. Had she been in any real hurry to leave, she wouldn't have noticed the unnatural emptiness to the room. It was all as if no one had been staying in it at all. The bed was made with diligence and the tables held nothing but candles in the midst of melting. The only item that didn't come with the room was his sword that rested against the foot of the bed frame. The pommel of the white direwolf snarled fiercely into the air.

By the time Jon spoke a few last words to her, Sansa had only just placed her hand on the door handle. "Things will become normal. Eventually."

Sansa paused for a moment before pulling the door open. The hall of the corridor was completely empty. "You might want to make this place feel more like home then."

A single chuckle could be heard from Jon as the door closed behind the young lady.

•••

Normal.

Jon's words rang in Sansa's mind that night, causing sleep to escape her. That single word had meant just that, normalcy, once before. But now it only furthered to explain just how much had changed since the years she and her family had first separated from each other. Ned and Catelyn Stark had always repeated to their children that there was to always be a Stark in Winterfell—what they should have taught their children was that no Stark should ever leave Winterfell.

It had never once faired well for any of them.

Sansa tossed side to side countless times, hoping that another position would allow sleep to wrap around her, but each left her just as awake as before. There was something poking in her mind. And it wasn't just what Jon had told her. With a sigh, Sansa gave up trying to will herself into a slumber. She lit a single candle on her bedside table. The flame cast a large shadow behind her. Her dark figure cascaded over the bare wall effortlessly. Not taking her eyes off the candle, Sansa sat up on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest. She figured if closing her eyes didn't work, she'd simply wait patiently for sleep to greet her. So she sat—knees to her chest and blankets pulled up to her chin. Time passed quickly. Or so she thought. Sansa couldn't tell how long she sat there, gazing into the ember eyes winking next to her. The only way she could tell that time was in fact passing was by watching drips of wax race slowly down the side of the candle, pooling together as one at the base.

Off toward the gate of Winterfell, muffled and low behind the closed window, voices could be heard yelling back and forth to each other. Although Sansa couldn't understand their words, it was enough to tear her out of the flaming candles trace and look toward the noise. Every few seconds, a flicker of light would appear in the corner of the glass. Soon that flicker became a constant glow that grew brighter and brighter. They were lighting the courtyard torches.

Something is happening.

Curiosity gained the better of her; Sansa pulled off her blankets and made her way to the other side of the bed. The stone was cold under bare feet, but she didn't mind. She promised herself she'd never let the cold sway her again. With the window cracked just a bit, she strained her ears to pick up as much as she could. The thought crossed her mind to leave her room and see for herself what was going on but thought better of it. It was just as likely to be trouble coming their way as good news. It was better to stay put until one was placed over the other.

She stood next to the window only a few moments before loud thumps came running through the halls. Sansa wasn't even able to formulate a beginning thought before Jon came bursting through her chamber door. It was a surprise to see Jon so dissolved. His breathing was ragged and his expression seemed puzzled. Whatever had him out of bed at this hour clearly had to be pressing as Jon was still wearing his nightclothes. He had only taken the time to put on to see Jon so dissolved. His breathing was ragged and his expression seemed puzzled. Whatever had him out of bed at this hour clearly had to be pressing as Jon was still wearing his nightclothes. He had only taken the time to put on trousers.

"Sansa?"

She didn't dare move away from the window. She highly doubted that she could even if she had wanted to, even if every muscle in her body wasn't tensing and rendering her body heavy. Jon's face was unreadable, but Sansa could only assume that news at this time of the night couldn't possibly be news that one would want to hear.

It wasn't until she began to feel light headed that Sansa realized that she was holding her breath. She exhaled, "What's happened?"

Jon's voice was even when he said, "It's Bran."

Sansa's heart quickened at the mention of her little brother. His young face popped into her head, brown hair and peacefully sleeping in his bed after the fall. She wondered what the boy looked like now. Like father, wise and sure? Or perhaps like the uncle that he had been named after, strong and cunning? A darkened thought clouded over her warming picture of Bran. What if the last male Stark was no longer living? Had word made its way to Winterfell, bearing the bad news?

"He's here." Jon's voice interrupted her thoughts. She would have gone on thinking about every tragic possibility Bran could have gone through, but the smile forming on Jon's lips stalled her. "He's alive."

There was a brief moment where Sansa refused to believe the news. It would only allow joy and relief to settle upon her. Where those feelings were brought up in the past only assured her that she should grow suspicious and paranoid about what may be sitting behind the curtain. But the moment didn't last.

With her cloak simple wrapped around her shoulders for cover, Sansa and Jon made their way through the halls. They should have kept their composure in check, to make sure they still acted as a Lord and Lady should at all times; they should have walked through the dark maze of corridors and halls and entryways, but instead, they ran. It was a soft trot a first like horses just gaining freedom from their stalks and wondering if all was real, but each step gave the two more confidence, more desperation.

Jon took the lead in front of Sansa, opening a door that led outside. They were greeted with a burst of cold air that instantly raised bumps on her arms. She didn't move to adjust her cloak but shifted her hand next to Jon's. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, studying her, but said nothing. His hesitation was felt for just a moment before he accepted his sister's hand. Together, they made their way down the courtyard steps, their path lit up with torches both hung from the castle walls and in the hands of their entourage. Every eye could be felt boring into them. Tormund, the red bearded wildling leader, and a few of his men were just some of the men who had risen from their beds to see what was going on. Even Ser Davos had made an appearance.

Sansa quickly became very self-aware of her unladylike appearance.

They were only half way down the stairs when she saw him—her young, brown haired brother who had always been a happy child. There was a deep need for her to see his bright smile upon laying eyes on him, to know that he was still what she remembered, but her heart broke when, even at a distance, she saw Bran's sorrow in his eyes. She noticed that his lips were moving. Although she wasn't close enough to hear his words, she could imagine what they were.

Jon. His brother. Sansa. His sister. I'm finally back home... He was finally back home.

Sansa reached Bran first, falling to her knees next to him. There were a thousand different things that she wanted to say to him—praises that he was alive, questions about what had happened to him and Rickon after they had left Winterfell, explanation of what happened to Jon and herself since she had last seen them. But none of the words that ran muddled around her would come out of her mouth. Instead, she wrapped her arms around the body of her little brother and a sob came through her lips.

"I can't believe I actually made it back," Bran said in Sansa's ear. He eagerly reciprocated her embrace.

Sansa could feel Jon come up next to her, so she pulled away from Bran to allow him his turn. No longer in their embrace, Bran and Sansa could look at one another. No words were said, but it was obvious both had a lot to say.

Jon knelt down beside Sansa, a sad smile forming on his face as he placed his hand on the side of Bran's cheek. "Look at you. You're all grown up."

Sansa was already crying silent tears, but hearing Jon's voice croak almost pushed her over the edge. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out deeply.

Bran looked Jon up and down, taking in his brother's appearance. "I was sure the next time I saw you, you would be all in black."

Jon smiled, patting Bran's cheek again. Sansa felt his body vibrate as he let out a low chuckle. "You seem to have caught me off guard."

"Is that anyway for a man of the Night's Watch to perform?" Bran questioned back. He was smiling now, but the way he looked at Jon didn't add up to his words.

Someone stood beside him, a girl perhaps around Jon's age with hair just the same. She didn't at all look to be on edge or unsettled with her new surroundings but made sure to keep close to Bran. Her close proximity to the boy didn't seem to stem from protection.

Sansa more than welcomed the friendly banter, but between the freezing winds, the nameless young woman standing by Bran's side, and all the gawking expressions from the men around them, it hardly felt like the place and time. After standing back up, she smiled down at the sibling reunion and said, "It's time to welcome another Stark home."

Well, there is my first chapter!

I know it's not very exciting, and really the first few won't really be in terms of the romance and all, but they will get better! I really want this fic to be more than just a SanSan storyline. Sansa has become such a complex character, and I want to bring that out.

Also, I'm way behind and still haven't watched season 7 yet so I know this won't exactly go with the show. I started writing the first several chapters before it was aired and it's simply how I would like everything to end.

Anyway, please tell me what you think! It's my first fanfic so I hope I'm doing the world and characters justice. Vote! Comment! Think about how far away season 8 is and cry! Any combination will be acceptable.