No one knows where the child came from. All they knew was that the Queen in the North kept him close and treated him like her own son. Some whispered that he was her real son, the loudest were the voices from the Lords of the Six Kingdoms. But King Bran the Broken refused to say if he was or wasn't.

"When it comes to my family, their secrets are their own. Only when it is for the good of the Six Kingdoms will I utter the words not yet spoken."

It had been 10 long years since the Dragon Queen's demise and the Separation of Kingdoms. When the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch is tasked in a secret mission by the Hand of the King, Tyrion Lannister, to find out if the Boy is truly the next heir to the North, he comes to find himself back in the place he always longed to be as a child. Face to face with the woman he has avoided since his banishment to the Crows.

Takes place after Season 8. (AU or is it? *insert Evil Laugh*)

The First Raven

"Your Grace, a raven has arrived from the Southern King." Maester Wolkan handed a small scroll to Queen of the North Sansa Stark.

"Thank you maester Wolkan, that will be all." He disappeared faster than he had arrived.

My Dear sister,

The Winds are turning in the favor of our two kingdoms. It brings new joy and prosperity. This I have seen no matter what trials lie ahead. I sense no new wintera upon us, the long summer is about to begin.

King Bran, the Broken

"Cryptic as always." Sansa muttered. Sighing, she walked over to her desk, to pen a reply back, knowing full well Bran will know what she is to write to him before he even gets it. Her quill dancing across the raven's scroll, a smile coming to her face, the moment she heard the wooden door squeak open and the floorboards screaming against the feet trying to sneak their way across the room. Glancing up, she found the eyes of her Nephew, Ned Snow.

"What is it little cub?" She went back to writing.

"Was that Uncle Bran?"

"King Bran." She corrected him.

"He's your brother isn't he?" Sansa put down her pen, smiling at the little boy.

"He is. But he is also a King, just as I am a queen."

"That's why I call you your Grace when other lords & ladies are around."

"Correct." She leaned back in her chair, watching the wheels click in his mind.

"But currently no one is here, so I don't have to have to call him King Bran until other Lords and Ladies are around." Opening her arms, little Ned ran around the desk, quickly jumping up on her lap.

"Correct Little Cub." She held up him close, kissing his forehead. She watched his face drop, looking at her writing.

"I'm not Uncle Bran's am I?"

"No little cub. Uncle Bran can no longer have children. But you are our blood, there is no doubt in that. And until your older I can't make you a Stark. I fear what other lords & ladys might do to you."

"I'm almost ten this year. Is that not a man yet?"

"You don't want to grow up to be a man just yet. But when you do, you must be merciful to those who need it the most. I have no heirs to speak of and see none in my future, all except you." She smiled sliding him off her lap. "Now, tell me whose lesson did you sneak out of?"

"Archery. I find it too boring." Sansa held out her hand, leaving her troubles and worries behind.

"Why is it boring?"

"The target is too easy to hit." Sansa walked him back to the court yard where his archery instructor, Meera Reed, was looking everywhere for him.

"Little Prince! Little Prince!" She was yelling. "Little Ned, where are you hiding."

"You're just as sneaky as someone else I know." She gave a soft laugh. Ned watched his adoptive mother's amusement. Not for the first time, he realized it never reached her eyes. No happiness ever reached her eyes, not in the time he has known her. Only once, when he found a collar & leash in a room long forgotten. But even then, it disappeared with tears.

"Mother, did I make you sad?" Sansa bent down, ruffling his hair.

"You could never. Now go, before you kill Meera with worry." She watched him quickly run down the stairs, and spook the skilled woman. She laughed, before telling him he can't be doing that during the middle of lessons. Ned looked up at her, his smile wide. Sansa gave a soft wave before heading back to her solar to finish writing her response.

"Lord Commander, a raven from Kings Landing." One of his men, walked up to him as he gazed out North of the wall. Ghost in view, as he usually was when Jon went to peer out.

"Bran again?" He asked, before seeing the seal of a lion. "Tyrion." He whispered. Opening it, he began to walk back to his corders. The words screaming up at him.

Lord Commander,

As you may know there is a boy in Winterfell that goes by the name of Ned Snow. The Queen of the North teaches him and treats him like his is the next heir, yet refuses to give him the Stark name. For the good of the Realm, we must find out the boys true Identity. You are to be sent to Winterfell for however long it takes. Gendry, Lord of Storm's End will meet you in Wintertown. The Queen is being informed of your arrival.

Hand of the King, Lord Tyrion Lannister.

"Another Snow in Winterfell." He looks at his Steward, a young wilding who wished to be on this side of the wall. His parents had passed in the Battle of Winterfell. "Bring me my Box." He quickly ran out. Jon sat back in his chair, wondering what Sansa was thinking. Not for the first time, the Queen of the North, had accepted the Wildings who wished to stay without any objection. It was mostly the sick and the Elderly who wouldn't have been able to survive the winters north of the wall again. The boy returned just as quickly as he had left.

"Thank you, you can leave now." Jon still had trouble having a steward. He took one only when Tormund had insisted on it. Said if this one was going to kill him, it would be permanent. His hand traced over the wooden box, the direwolf seal on the outside. Lifting it, found unopened scrolls with the seal of the wolf over them. He never read them, he had a maester check to see if it pertains to any important information, but the ones that did not, were resealed and put in the box. Jon found himself unable to read her handwriting without feeling the need to go to her. The last time he had saw his sister cousin, he did the one thing he swore he would never do.

He hurt her.

In that moment, she asked for his forgiveness for telling Tyrion, and he couldn't. In some weird way, he loved Daenerys, the pain of killing her, still echoed through him to this day. It wasn't the same kind of pain, but it was still painful. She was his aunt, his last strand of family he had to the father he never knew. Even if she herself never knew him.

Pulling out the newest letter, he snapped the seal, rolling it out slowly. His eyes began to water, seeing her hand writing. It hadn't changed, since the last time he saw it. It was still elegant, and formal, yet the words were sweet.

Dear Lord Commander,

I assume you won't read this one either. Ned is growing strong and is interested in learning swordsmanship. He wants to be like his Uncle Jon at the wall and be a leader. I thought it would bring you some peace. He is starting to look like Robb.

With Love,

Lady of Winterfell

His hands traced the ending. All her formal letters ended with Queen of the North, but her familiar ones ended with Lady of Winterfell. That's how he knew it was never important news he must read. His Maester knew not to show him. It had been ten long years since he had seen her face, or close to it. A knock came on his door, his hand closing on the box, hiding his shame and his longing from his men.

"Come in." It was the boy again, holding a new scroll from a raven. Opening it, he knew he had no choice in the matter at hand.

Do as Tyrion Commands

King Bran, the Broken

Jon Snow was once again going to step foot in Winterfell.

"A letter from Westeros." A tall gruff of a man handed her a small slip of paper. She eyed the Raven that was eating from a dish. Sansa's personal white Raven.

He grows more and more like you everyday.

Sansa knew better than to write her name. The correspondents between them were secret, only Bran would ever see them. Burning the slip, she placed a hand on her stomach, wondering if she would feel the love that Sansa felt for him the instance he was born. Catching herself, she turned around, knowing there was only place she needed to go.

"Hoist the Anchor! Set sail for Westeros! It's time to see land again Boys!" They cheered, quickly moving around the ship.