Chapter 1

"Wait, My Lords, My Ladies, please," Jon said, pleadingly. "You have my gratitude, Lady Mormont, as do you all, for your undeserved faith in me. But I wasn't meant to be king. I'm not heir to Winterfell, the rightful heir is…"

Sansa stood then. "Until we know the fate of our brother Bran, as the eldest legitimate child of Ned Stark, I am his heir and the Lady of Winterfell." She looked over at Jon as she continued. "And I am proud to be your Princess in the North."

She spoke again to the audience of Northern bannermen, Knights of the Vale, and other friends. But she looked steadily at Lord Baelish. "My brother Jon will be a wise and honorable King, taking the place of our fallen brother, our King Robb." She curtsied to him, "Your Grace."

The Lords in the hall again cheered. "Princess Sansa!" "King Jon!" "The White Wolf!" "King in the North!"

Jon swallowed down any remaining argument, and instead addressed the hall, this time accepting his role as King. This felt familiar, the burden of unwanted leadership in a time of turmoil. Being trusted with a responsibility he felt he didn't deserve. He only hoped this time it wouldn't end with him being stabbed by his friends... "Thank you, My Lords, My Ladies, for your support of our House, of our cause. Keeping our land and our people safe during these dangerous times must be a priority during this long winter…"

"I thought we agreed we'd have no more secrets between us, Sister?" Jon mused, as he pulled on his cloak. The last of the Northern lords had left the banquet hall, and although it seemed that Lord Baelish intended to linger behind, Sansa had not moved from her seat at the table. The chant of "King in the North" still rang in his ears.

She looked up at him in mock surprise. "You think that was my doing?"

He offered her a hand. When she took it, he grinned at her. "I'm getting better at reading you, at least."

She huffed in response. "Well, we said we'd trust each other, I don't recall saying I wouldn't have secrets."

He turned serious. "Sansa, what are you thinking? You're the Lady of Winterfell, the Warden of the North, and if anyone should wear a crown here, it's you. I'm just a bastard," he avoided her gaze, looking around the room where Stark bannermen and even Knights of the Vale had proclaimed him king.

"Now you're a King. The North needs someone to rally behind. They aren't going to rally behind me. I was wed to the very enemy you defeated," she put her hand up to stop him from interjecting. "It's true. He was a monster, but I said the vows, said them to the son of the man who killed our brother, their king, his queen and unborn child, and my lady mother. Not to mention the fathers, sons and brothers of our bannermen."

As he started to argue, she silenced him again. "Jon, I won't be anyone's pawn anymore, and certainly not Littlefinger's. He would love to crown me Queen in the North, take me to wife, and control two of the seven kingdoms. He wants the Iron Throne, and he thinks I can provide a path to it. I've spent every moment since I first arrived in King's Landing as someone's pawn. I trusted all of the wrong people, and let my childish dreams of wanting to be queen destroy my family and my home. No more."

"You should be queen now. Queen in the North. It's your right."

She smiled up at him. "Yes. And it's my right to refuse."

He frowned. "You spoke with Lady Mormont."

"I did. I told her you would likely need her help to unify the North."

"It was a very impassioned speech. Was it yours?"

"No, the words were her own," she smiled. "Lady Mormont needs no help with speaking harsh truths. She is quite fierce, as were both her mother and her namesake, I'm told."

"Sansa… I don't even know how to be king. You were raised to be a queen, to be a great lady of an ancient house. I was raised…"

"You were raised in the North. You were the youngest Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. You were betrayed by a group of your own men because you did what was right and just. You aren't any different from Robb, good and honorable, truly our father's son."

A wave of grief passed over his face. "After Father was executed, when Robb was crowned King in the North, I tried to the leave the Night's Watch. I wanted to join Robb, fight for him, avenge our father, rescue you and Arya from the Lannisters. Sam and Edd, they stopped me."

Sansa smiled sadly. "Robb would have done the same for you. He broke his vow to the Freys because he followed his heart."

Jon looked around the room, ghosts of his family everywhere. There should be the sound of children here. Robb's children, Rickon and Bran…

Sansa began again, softly. "What you did on the battlefield, Jon, trying to save our brother…"

He shook his head with the shame of it. "It was foolish. You warned me and I didn't listen."

She smiled sadly, and placed a hand on his cheek to make him meet her eye. "It was foolish, yes. But it was brave and self-sacrificing. You did everything to save him, likely the last legitimate male heir to Winterfell. You didn't wage this battle for your own glory, so you could be the Lord of Winterfell or King in the North; you did it for love of your family, for love of your people. I was not the one who convinced Lady Lyanna you should be king. Jon, you convinced her."

He sighed, resigned. "You'll at least remain Lady of Winterfell, won't you?"

"So long as you promise not to sell me to some other monstrous lord," she said, firmly.

His eyes darkened. "Never. Winterfell is your home, it's where you belong."

She nodded. "It's where we both belong."

"And I need you here with me. I can't do this without your counsel," he said, almost pleading.

"Then we're agreed, Your Grace," she said, smiling teasingly.

He laughed.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace. Your Highness," Ser Davos said, entering the hall.

"Ser Davos, how can we be of assistance?" Sansa interjected, before Jon could shake off his new title.

"The men were finally able to pry open the lower level of the crypt that was sealed, now we can locate Rickon's tomb. We can lay your brother to rest, Your Highness."

"Thank you, Ser Davos, we will be down shortly," Jon nodded.

As Ser Davos took his leave, Sansa exhaled. "At least we can put him to rest. It's more than we were given for Father, Robb and Mother."

Jon swallowed down the bile stinging his throat as they left the hall. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to forget the image burned into his mind of the arrow piercing Rickon's heart. He wanted to remember his little brother as he was, with his mop of messy hair, always toddling behind him and their siblings. It wasn't long before Shaggy Dog had been bigger than Rickon, but he had never been afraid of his wild, messy direwolf.

He wondered what Rickon had been through since he and Bran had escaped Winterfell when it was sacked by Theon Greyjoy. He knew that Rickon had been with Osha, the wildling. It was reported that she, too, had been killed by Ramsay Bolton. But there had been no sign of Bran, Hodor, or Howland Reed's children, who were said to have fled Winterfell together. He had sent a raven to Reed, but there had been no word of either his children, nor of Bran. He wonders where they could have gone, and why they separated from Rickon and Osha. If they had been looking for sanctuary, they should have gone to the Umbers as well. They had always been loyal to the Starks, and there was no reason to believe they would be betrayed. So, where did they go that they left Rickon behind? Why were they so far north, all the way to Last Hearth, rather than traveling back to Greywater Watch? Were they headed to Castle Black? He would have known if they'd been found anywhere along the Wall. So where were they?

And where was Arya? The Lady Brienne had reported she was traveling, of her own free will, with the Hound, who had apparently fled King's Landing during the Battle of the Blackwater. Arya had been on her way back to Winterfell, with a group of new recruits traveling to Castle Black. According to Brienne, she had been disguised as a boy, and Yoren spirited her from King's Landing after their father's execution. The group had come under attack and Yoren was killed, as the Gold Coats were looking for one of the men intended for the Night's Watch, which in itself was very unusual. They didn't seem to be looking for Arya, however, but another boy who had been traveling with them. The baker boy who had given her the information worked at an Inn, and had traveled with her and the boy the Lannisters sought, after being held at Harrenhall. He had parted from them and they continued their travels, with the Brotherhood Without Banners, which planned to return Arya to Robb (for a generous reward). So, the question remained as to how she ended up with the Hound, and where either of them is now. Brienne had reported the Hound dead, but he had heard reports to the contrary. Lord Baelish said Arya had not turned up at the Eyrie, and Brienne said she was not at Riverrun. Where would she have gone?

Now that the Stark sigil flew above Winterfell once more, would his brother and sister return home? He could only hope. To see the man that Bran would be today. And Arya… his beloved little sister whose hair he would muss. She was a skinny little thing, always underfoot, wanting to learn to fight like her brothers…

He pushed away the thoughts for his missing siblings. The irony that the only sibling he had left is the one who never showed him any affection. She had always rejected him, tried to deny him as a brother, and in return he had never much affection for her either, if he was honest. She was silly and temperamental, exactly the sort of girl Ygritte would have ridiculed, an absurd highborn lady. That Sansa, however, no longer existed. In the place of the pretty, delicate, silly girl, who dreamed of knights and romance, was a strong, beautiful woman, who was smart and shrewd. She also was humble and compassionate, and had made a great effort to make up for their detachment as children.

"You don't have to be down here, Sansa, you'll soil your dress," Jon cleared his throat. The musty smell combined with the dust was overwhelming.

"I will be fine. I know you hate it down here, I won't make you do this alone," she dismissed his concern. She sighed. "The last time I came down here was with Lord Baelish."

"When was this?" he asked, surprised by the admission.

"When he first returned me to Winterfell. He was telling me about our Aunt Lyanna, and…"

"Over here, Your Grace," one of the men called.

"Which one is for the lordling? I'm sorry, I don't know me letters, Your Grace," another of the men asked.

"Please. Allow me," Jon said, entering the room. "Can you bring the torch closer?"

"Are you certain Father had one made for Rickon? He was quite young when we left for King's Landing," Sansa said, holding one of the torches closer.

"I'm certain. Robb, Theon and I were with him when he ordered the marble carved."

"Here's Bran's, and Arya's. Oh, here's mine. That's rather discomforting to see," she muttered.

"I found it, it's here," Jon said, touching the name 'Rickon' on the cold marble.

Sansa gasped.

"Sansa, what's the matter?" Jon asked.

She shook her head. "I'm fine. It was just a spider. A really big… spider." She addressed the men, "Please take Rickon's crypt from the storage and prepare our brother for burial. The King and I will be along shortly, we need a moment in this place to mourn our lost family."

"Yes, Princess," the men replied, moving the coffin.

"What's the matter?" Jon repeated once the men had left.

"Jon… I…" she sighed. "You just need to see for yourself."