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Chapter Text

Outside, the streets were white with snow, the roads icy, but inside Castle Black lodge, it was nice and warm.

Sansa had been sat at the bar for nearly an hour, anxiously sipping a white wine spritzer and checking her phone every few minutes. She cast a glance around the quiet pub, biting her thumbnail. The place had a calming atmosphere, rustic and wooden, with a large fireplace in the dining area and real boughs of fir and holly hanging on the walls. Not the artificial kind she would see at bars and restaurants in the Vale. There were warm, gold string lights covering the ceiling, and decades' old Christmas hits played softly on the jukebox. It was undoubtedly festive and cosy, but Sansa just felt on edge.

She unlocked her phone to quickly send another text.

[Sansa]
Have you reached Wintertown station yet?
Sent 21:04pm

Sansa waited to see if Harry would respond. When her boyfriend had said he couldn't make the train she'd already booked for them a few days prior, that he had to take care of some things at work and that he would join her in Wintertown a few days later, Sansa had been dubious. She wasn't sure if she could fully trust he would get a train without her. She didn't like it when things didn't go according to her careful plans. And now, the day had arrived; Harry was supposed to meet her here at Castle Black lodge fifty minutes ago. He hadn't responded to any of her texts or calls in the last three hours.

Sansa let out a shaky breath. For all she knew, Harry never got on the train and was back home in the Vale, drinking at one of his usual bars. She tried to swallow the dryness in her throat, then took a deep sip of her wine, her hand shaking slightly, as she quickly glanced around the bar, seeking out Jon.

Her brother's old friend from school, Jon Snow, was working behind the bar tonight. That was reassuring for Sansa; Jon was like family, in a way, even if the two of them had never been particularly close growing up. He was a familiar face, someone she knew and could talk to, someone who was kind enough to check on her every now and then, even though he was working.

She'd been in Wintertown for two days already, her first visit home in six years, and she hadn't been to see any of her family yet. She'd decided to wait for Harry before she braved the storm of her parents and siblings. When Sansa had ventured into Castle Black the night before, needing to get out of the B&B where she was staying and looking for someplace to eat, she and Jon had been equally surprised to see one another.

~

"I didn't think you were coming until the 23rd," Jon had said as he'd shown her to a table, after they'd both recovered from their initial shock. They hadn't hugged; she couldn't recall if they had ever hugged. But it was nice to see him all the same.

"I got here yesterday, actually. I'm staying at the Reeds' bed and breakfast, and I'll be heading to my parents' the day after tomorrow," Sansa had explained. She hadn't bothered saying that she was waiting for Harry to join her; that he had requested they book somewhere else to stay for a few days. She'd started to feel horribly embarrassed by it all.

She and Jon had made awkward small talk for a while, he'd recommended the steak and kidney pie, and then Sansa had blurted -

"My family don't know I'm here yet, either. I just needed... some time. Do you think we could keep this between us?"

Jon had looked a little surprised, a little uncertain, but had agreed with a -

"Sure."

~

Now, Jon was at the other end of the bar, pouring beer from the tap for a customer, but he seemed to sense Sansa looking at him. He half-turned to her, dark brows raised in question. Sansa took a deep breath then slid off her bar stool, slowly walking towards Jon with her phone and purse in hand.

"Is it okay if I use the office for a second? I need to make a phone call, and it's so cold outside," she asked when she was within earshot, her voice sounding weak to her own ears.

While it was slightly warmer than winters usually were in the north, it was still freezing. In the past, the north had been hit with blizzards so hard they'd had to close roads and buildings for several days at a time. This year, so far, they'd only had 'light' snowfalls and 'mild' temperatures - still well below freezing. Sansa wasn't quite so used to the cold anymore, not after living in King's Landing for four years, then the Vale for the last two.

Jon looked at her for a moment, his deep grey eyes warm; his gaze lingered on her for a beat before he nodded, wordlessly. Jon had always been quiet, especially with her. Sansa tried to give him a sweet smile in thanks, then walked around the bar, crossing to the other side and to the tiny office at the back of the building. Once inside, she checked it was empty then closed the door; she immediately called Harry. He answered on the fourth ring, and for a second, Sansa was stunned that he actually picked up.

"Hey," Harry said, voice unsure. The dread started to curdle thicker in Sansa's stomach.

"Hey," she murmured back. "Are you on the train?" There was a heavy moment of silence, then -

"No, I didn't get on the train. I'm not coming."

Sansa slowly sat down in the wooden chair at the office's messy desk.

"What do you mean you're not coming?" She whispered.

"I think, maybe, this thing between us means more to you than it does to me. I'm just, I'm not ready to meet your whole family. We've only been dating for six months."

Sansa blinked repeatedly. Was six months not very long? She was sure things were starting to get serious between them, hence why she'd invited him to spend Christmas with her family in Winterfell. They each had a key to one another's apartments.

"Um, okay," she frowned down at her lap, fiddling with her nails. "When- when were you going to tell me this? Because I've just been sat here waiting -"

"I know, I'm sorry. I should have called."

"Yeah, you should have," Sansa muttered, her pent up anxiety over the last few days quickly turning into anger. She ran a hand through her long, red hair, sweeping it back from her face. Harry wasn't coming. He didn't think their relationship was anything serious. He'd decided not to come, he let Sansa go alone, and then didn't even bother to call to let her know. "You don't think we're serious?" She asked, wishing she had brought her wine into the office with her. She could really do with a drink.

"I - are we?" Harry sounded exasperated at the other end of the call. "I've been seeing someone else."

Sansa went deadly still. She had suspected, on some level, but had chosen to ignore the little clues. The way Harry sometimes disappeared, and she wouldn't be able to get hold of him. The rumours she'd heard about him before they started dating. The strange messages she'd seen on his instagram, not to mention some of the accounts he followed. But she had ignored the signs, because that's what she's always done. She turns her cheek to the little things, the alarm bells, and chooses blissful ignorance. She never *learns*.

"Who?" Sansa asked, her voice icy cold. She was genuinely surprised by the venom in her tone, and that 'who' had been the first thing out of her mouth. Not 'what the hell do you mean', not 'for how long', or 'why?' Why am I not enough? Why am I *never* enough?

"Saffron, from work," Harry answered, and he didn't sound the least bit guilty. Harry and Sansa worked at the same publishing firm in the Vale - it's how they'd met a year ago. Saffron was a receptionist on the floor below Sansa's, where Harry's office was. Sansa saw her regularly, but she'd never really liked the woman. She decidedly liked her even less now.

She was suddenly hit with a whirlwind of horrible thoughts. Did everyone at the office know Harry had been stringing her along, that he had been seeing Saffron as well? Were they all laughing about it behind her back? Poor, stupid Sansa Stark.

Sansa's free hand curled into a fist, her nails biting into her palm. At this point, she just felt so very, very tired.

"Right. Well," she took a deep breath in and let it out through her nose. "Merry Christmas. Don't bother calling me," she spat the words out, the well-wishes dripping with sarcasm, and hung up. She heard a muffled "Sansa" from the phone before she ended the call.

Feeling strangely numb, but with her hands still shaking, she turned her phone off and shoved it to the bottom of her purse. Sure, she could block Harry's number, but turning the thing off entirely seemed the easiest option for now. Besides, she'd have to face him back at work eventually. But that was After Christmas Sansa's problem, not her's; she refused to dwell on it for the time being. She gathered her bearings, suddenly terrified at the thought of Jon's boss or someone else walking in and finding her there, and quickly left the office.

Jon was waiting for her in the small walkway that led back to the bar. She knew he wouldn't have been eavesdropping - that wasn't the kind of person Jon was - he was simply waiting for her, or possibly trying to warn her that someone was coming.

"You okay?" He asked softly, voice low and gravelly. Sansa buried her hands in the pockets of her navy wool coat, trying to hide how they were trembling. She drew in an unsteady breath, staring straight ahead.

"I think I just got dumped," she mumbled, unable to meet Jon's eyes. How embarrassing.

"Three days before Christmas?" Jon asked in disbelief, his eyebrows shooting up high.

"Yeah," she nodded, one hand freeing itself to fiddle with the strap of her purse at her shoulder.

"Well, shit," Jon muttered. "That... sucks. I'm sorry, Sansa."

"It's fine," she waved him off, meeting his gaze for only a second before looking away again. "I guess I sort of did the dumping. He's, um, he's been seeing someone else."

Her eyes darted back to Jon's face; he looked utterly shocked.

"Really?" He breathed. She nodded, words failing her and an uncomfortable tightness in her throat.

"I think I need a stronger drink," she admitted, trying to laugh at herself and failing.

"Sure. How about a whiskey?" Jon suggested, gesturing to the bar.

"Whiskey sounds great," Sansa sighed, wiping her hand over her brow. They walked back to the bar, Sansa leading the way after Jon held a hand out for her to pass him, and she crossed over to the other side, this time sitting on a stool closer to the centre where the beer taps were. She wouldn't have to be so far away from Jon that way.

Jon placed a glass tumbler down in front of her and started to pour amber liquid into it. He poured a double without her even having to ask.

"On the house," he said with a small smile.

"Oh, no, Jon, you don't have to - "

"I insist. It's actually our 'Unexpected Christmas Breakup' policy," he said, very seriously.

That surprised a laugh out of her - a tiny, breathy thing, but a laugh all the same.

"Thank you," she smiled, and it wasn't one she had to force. Jon's answering smile was wider, and brighter than the Christmas lights. "And thank you for letting me use the office. I only realised after the phone call that I could have gotten you in trouble for that."

"Nah, Mormont's cool. He wouldn't have cared. But if there was a problem, I could've told him that you're a Stark and he wouldn't have questioned a thing."

Sansa chuckled and rolled her eyes at that. Of course, everyone in Wintertown knew and loved the Starks. Growing up, Sansa had sometimes felt like being a Stark was like being royalty, at least in the north. Her dad was a former congressman, after all, whom most of the north were fiercely proud of for what he had achieved for them.

The whiskey was starting to make Sansa feel pleasantly light and warm; she felt more relaxed now than she had in days. She looked around the pub, only just noticing how quiet it was.

"Not many people here tonight," Sansa murmured. She looked up at Jon as he also glanced around the area.

"Well, it is a Tuesday night," he smirked. "This place will be absolutely packed on Christmas Eve. You should see how busy it gets. Thankfully, I'll be at your parents' and not stuck here working," he exhaled, as if content with that, and leaned down, resting his weight on his forearms against the bar.

Sansa had only been mildly surprised to discover Jon would be spending Christmas at her parents' house; apparently, her mum, dad and siblings still saw Jon as family. He'd spent the past two Christmases with them, since he'd moved back to Wintertown after working as a nature researcher beyond the Wall for four years.

"When are you heading over there?" Sansa asked, taking another sip of her drink. Her white wine spritzer from earlier had been abandoned, but that was probably for the best; she had left it unattended for some time.

"Tomorrow, after my shift," Jon smiled again, this one creasing his eyes at the corners. It was quite a lovely smile.

"Me too. Tomorrow, I mean," she said after another small sip. The whiskey burning her throat was strangely soothing.

An older man with grey hair approached the bar then, asking for a refill of his pint. Jon and Sansa put their conversation on hold while Jon served and chatted with the man for a bit. Sansa didn't mind watching him work.

Over the years, Jon had become somewhat ruggedly handsome. Not the usual type of man Sansa would go for, but he was undeniably attractive, with long, dark curly hair tied back in a bun, slate grey eyes, full lips and a well-kept beard. He had a scar over one eye and some small ones across his hands and forearms. He was wearing a maroon flannel shirt, unbuttoned, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a black tee underneath and faded black jeans, paired with some black hiking boots. Yes, Jon was quite nice to look at, his frame tall and lean, and Sansa's gaze was momentarily transfixed by the muscles in his forearm as he poured a beer from the tap, pulling the large lever down.

Then, she remembered Harry and how her night - and pretty much her entire life - had been thrown into complete disaster. Sansa was mortified with herself for ogling her brother's childhood best friend when she'd just been dumped. She suppressed a groan and rubbed at her eyes, grateful she'd only applied a bit of waterproof mascara.

"You alright, sweetheart? Pretty girl like you shouldn't look so troubled."

Sansa looked up, startled. It was the older man who'd come to the bar; he'd turned to look at Sansa, giving her a drunken smile. She tried not to wince.

"Off with you, Davos," Jon laughed, shaking his head. The man, Davos, got up and raised his hands in mock-surrender; he gave Sansa a wink before walking away, swaying slightly as he went. "Sorry about that. He's harmless, really," Jon said softly, returning to his spot in front of Sansa.

"It's fine," she shook her head. She'd been hit on by plenty of creepy older men in her life. Not that she thought this Davos was a creep, per se, but she certainly wasn't in the mood to deal with some random old man telling her she should smile.

"You said you're staying at the Reeds' bed and breakfast?" Jon asked after a moment, folding then refolding a tea towel.

"Yeah. It's really nice there. Howland is still as kind as ever," Sansa nodded.

"My shift's over in ten minutes. I can drive you back, if you want?" He offered, studying her. Then his eyes dropped down to her nearly-empty glass. "You need some water with that? I forgot how much of a lightweight you used to be."

"I'm fine," Sansa scoffed. "I can handle my whiskey. I'm not eighteen anymore," she scowled, which made Jon chuckle. She quite liked making him laugh; it had been rare for him to even crack a smile, at least for her, when they were younger. "But yes, a lift would be much appreciated. Thank you."

Gilly, another employee at the lodge who Sansa had met the night before, came in not long after to relieve Jon of his shift. Gilly was engaged to Jon's friend, Sam, Sansa had been told.

"Sorry I'm late! Little Sam is teething again," Gilly said by way of greeting, moving to hang up her scarf and coat on the rack behind the bar. Sansa liked Gilly; she seemed honest, up-front and very no-nonsense with her words, nothing at all like Sansa's 'friends' in King's Landing and the Vale.

Gilly had been somewhat cold and suspicious toward Sansa when they'd met the night before, but she'd quickly warmed up to her after Jon had said Sansa was 'like family'.

"Little Sam?" Sansa asked curiously, as Jon slipped off to the office to grab his things.

"My son," Gilly explained with a broad smile. "He's eight months," she added, then pulled her phone from her pocket to show Sansa a photo. Sansa made an utterly pathetic sound at the podgy-cheeked, blue-eyed baby staring back at her through the screen.

"Oh, he's gorgeous!" She cooed, feeling like her heart was melting into goo in her chest.

"Have you got kids?" Gilly asked, tucking her phone away again. Sansa felt her heart sink, now heavy as a stone; a lump caught in her throat. She had the strangest urge to cry.

"No," she shook her head. "Nothing like that for me yet."

All Sansa had was a long string of terrible relationships. She wasn't anywhere near close to having children, something she'd always wanted for herself some day. The sudden breakup with Harry felt like she'd been knocked several steps back.

"You okay?" Gilly murmured, her brown eyes studying Sansa with concern.

Sansa sighed, finished her whiskey, and grimaced. She'd *almost* forgotten about the breakup. Jon hadn't asked her any questions about it, which was nice, but it had come back to her with crushing weight.

"Bit of a rough night," Sansa admitted, staring at her empty glass glumly. "My six-month relationship just sort of crashed and burned around me. My boyfriend - or ex now, I guess - was meant to be coming here with me. He's been seeing another woman and I feel like the biggest idiot in the world."

"Oh," Gilly said, with her face scrunched up like she'd tasted something sour. "That's shit. You're not an idiot, Sansa. He sounds like a right wanker."

Sansa laughed despite herself.

"Yeah, I guess he is, a bit. He forgot my birthday two months ago. I don't think he was ever a good boyfriend, not really," Sansa confessed miserably. Jon returned at that point, ready to leave with his coat, scarf and a burgundy knitted bobble-hat on. He looked silly and adorable all bundled up.

"Ready?" He asked. Sansa nodded and rose to stand.

"I'm heading to my parents' tomorrow," she told Gilly with a sad smile. "So I don't think I'll be coming back here. But it was really nice meeting you."

Gilly looked just as disappointed as Sansa felt, which was surprising. They'd only met the previous night. Maybe real friendship was as rare for Gilly as it was for Sansa.

"Oh. It was nice to meet you, too," Gilly mumbled, making a start on polishing some wine glasses.

"Have a good Christmas, Gilly," Sansa beamed with a final wave.

"You too," Gilly gave her small smile. "See you tomorrow, Jon."

"See you, Gil."

It was absolutely freezing outside, the cold wind nipping their cheeks and snowflakes catching in Sansa's hair. She was starting to feel sluggish as she followed Jon to his car. She wasn't sure if it was exhaustion, the night's events, or the whiskey taking its toll, but she felt dead on her feet.

She climbed into the passenger seat after Jon opened the door for her, feeling understandably low. She turned to face the window and nestled her cheek against the headrest. Jon climbed into the driver's side, starting the engine and flicking the heat on to full blast. He pulled off his hat, and he must have taken the tie out of his hair, for his inky black curls spilled out wildly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked quietly, as he pulled the car out of its parking space and began the drive. "The breakup, I mean."

"I don't know," Sansa murmured, keeping her gaze on the window. The colourful Christmas lights filling the streets around them started to blur as her vision became unfocused.

"You don't seem, um," Jon fumbled for a second. "You don't seem very upset. I mean, you haven't cried, or anything."

"I don't know if it's really sunk in yet," she admitted. She shifted in her seat to look out the windshield instead, now able to glance at Jon from her peripheral. "I just... I feel so stupid."

"You're not stupid," Jon said immediately, voice firm.

"I am a bit stupid. My romantic relationships have been... disasters." And that was putting it mildly, especially if she was counting Joffrey - her first boyfriend, back in college. "I can't tell you how many times I've thought I finally had a boyfriend I could bring home to meet my family, only for it to blow up in my face."

Jon gave a low, rumbling hum in understanding.

"That's not your fault," he said softly. "If they've - they let you down or cheated on you or -" he shook his head. "That's their fault, their own stupidity, their failings - not yours."

Sansa definitely felt the urge to cry now. She didn't think she'd ever heard Jon talk this much, and his words were so kind. Her eyes burned and she sniffled before she could stop herself. "Oh," Jon muttered, glancing over at her. "I've done it now. I'm sorry."

"No, no," she shook her head and wiped her tears away. "Thank you, Jon. That was - that was really nice of you to say."

"Well, it's true," he said with a shrug. "I, er, I can sort of relate, I guess. My past relationships haven't been... great."

"Oh?" Sansa mumbled, digging a fresh tissue out of her purse to dab at her eyes and nose.

"Robb says I have a habit of dating exclusively toxic women," Jon chuckled mirthlessly.

"Oh," Sansa frowned. She remembered then, Jon's girlfriends from before she'd left for college in King's Landing. "Well I hate the stereotype of 'toxic women', you know - how some men say their ex-girlfriends are crazy or whatever. But yours are... particularly awful," she winced. "The ones I met, anyway."

First there was Ygritte, Jon's girlfriend throughout most of high school; then there was Daenerys, who he'd dated in his first year of college. Both had been horrible. They were always putting Jon down, with insults and threats thinly veiled behind 'jokes', and sometimes without the veil at all. They'd both seemed to hate Sansa for simply existing. It had led to a few awkward interactions. In the beginning, Sansa tried to be nice, but she'd soon stopped bothering when it became clear neither women would ever try and be civil with her.

Jon let out a some sort of half-groan, half-laugh.

"Yeah, the few after weren't much better," he confessed. "But your exes don't sound much like peaches either. Arya mentioned your college boyfriend once. He sounded..."

Jon's voice filtered away as Sansa stiffened, drifting into a hazy panic at the mention of Joffrey. Had Arya told Jon? Had she told their family? Gods, Sansa didn't think she could bear it if anyone knew. Memories of that night started to flash through her mind and she squeezed her eyes closed, trying to remember how to breathe.

"Sans?" Jon's voice cut through the fog. Sansa blinked repeatedly, returning to her body.

"Hmm? Sorry. What were you saying?"

"Nothing," Jon brushed it off, shaking his head; his eyes darted between her and the road. "It doesn't matter. You okay?"

"Yeah," she lied with a single nod, staring straight ahead. They settled into awkward silence for a moment. Then, feeling utterly drained, Sansa whispered, "Why do we do it to ourselves, do you think? Get into relationships with terrible people."

Jon tapped his fingers against the steering wheel.

"My friend Sam would probably say something along the lines of feelings of inadequacy, low self-esteem. Thinking we deserve to be treated that way. Something like that," he said with a self-deprecating smile.

"Your friend Sam might be on to something. Psychology major?" Sansa forced herself to chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

"How'd you guess?" Jon laughed, but it sounded hollow. They pulled up outside the Reed's bed and breakfast then - it was only a ten-minute drive from the town centre - and Jon slowed the car to a stop.

"Right, well -" Sansa made herself sound cheery, but Jon cut her off.

"How are you getting to your folks' place tomorrow?" He asked abruptly, just as Sansa was reaching for the door handle.

"Oh, um," she opened and closed her mouth. Stupid girl. Harry had wanted to rent a car when he got here, so they could do some sightseeing before heading to her parents' house. Sansa hadn't bothered renting one herself. Why hadn't she? She'd been travelling by bus so far. "I guess I'll be getting a taxi."

Jon turned to her, frowning.

"That'll cost a fortune. I could drive you, if - if you want? I mean, I'm driving there anyway," he tripped over his words, seeming suddenly nervous.

"Oh, Jon, you've already done so much for me -"

"I haven't," he scoffed.

"- and I really don't want to give you anymore trouble. It's an hour car ride - I wouldn't want to impose," Sansa babbled, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. Jon blinked at her, frowning harder, and turned fully to look at her.

"It's not a problem, Sansa - at all. I live just 'round the corner from here. You don't currently have a car. I've got to make the journey anyway. You haven't caused me any trouble, and it wouldn't be an imposition."

Sansa studied Jon's face for a long moment, first feeling sceptical, then slowly - surprisingly - hopeful.

"Are you sure?" She bit her lip, her eyes flitting between his grey ones. Jon's frown, finally, started to smooth out into a soft smile.

"I'm sure," he nodded. "But Ghost is coming with me, so he'll be along for the ride. Are you alright with dogs? He's good in the car."

"I love dogs," Sansa felt the tension in her face split into a smile. She'd forgotten about Ghost and the other dogs she had yet to meet at her parents' house.

"Okay," Jon grinned. "Great. I finish work at four tomorrow. I'll go home after, grab my stuff and Ghost, and we'll head over here to pick you up. Probably around half past?"

"Yeah, okay," Sansa beamed; there was a pleasant warmth unfurling in her chest. "If - if you're sure it's not a problem, I mean. I'd really appreciate it."

"Not a problem," Jon shook his head, still smiling, his gaze warm. Sansa suddenly felt a bizarre sense of longing; she quickly squashed it down.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," she said, checking she had her purse, phone, wallet and her room key for the B&B.

"Yeah. Tomorrow," Jon agreed as Sansa climbed out of the car.

"Thanks for everything, Jon," she smiled once more, ready to close the door.

"Good night, Sansa," Jon murmured, eyes intent on her face.

"Good night," she echoed, just as softly.

After what felt like an eternity, she closed the passenger door and headed into the bed and breakfast. She was aware of Jon waiting until she was safely inside the old, stone building before he drove away.

As Sansa headed up to her room, she couldn't help but think - 'Maybe this Christmas won't be so bad after all.'

Chapter Text

Sansa didn't get out of bed until gone ten the next morning, something she hadn't done since her college days. She was usually a naturally early riser.

Her eyes felt sore and puffy from crying, and she stared up at the ceiling, wondering if there was even any point in getting up. She hadn't really cried over Harry until she was in the safety of her guest room, finally alone. She'd learned to suffer in silence a long time ago.

She was meant to be spending the day with Harry today, taking him sightseeing through Wintertown and doing some last-minute Christmas shopping. But Harry wasn't coming.

Sansa groaned and forced herself to sit up. She wished she could forget about Harry. In all honesty, he'd been a crap boyfriend, so it wasn't much of a loss; Sansa just hated feeling like she'd been made a fool of once again. She dreaded to think of going back to work and Myranda giving her a look that said 'I told you so.'

Sansa rubbed her eyes and turned her phone on, after leaving it off for the night. There were a dozen missed calls and messages from Harry; she deleted the chat without looking, and blocked his number. Then she quickly sent a text to her mum, telling her there'd been a change of plans and she would be hitching a ride over with Jon later.

She made herself get out of bed. There was no use lounging around moping all day - tomorrow would be Christmas Eve, and this evening, she would be going home and seeing her family for the first time in years. She was equal parts anxious and excited, maybe even a bit terrified. But at least she would be with Jon. That made it feel a little easier for her to breathe.

She showered in the en suite, then pulled on a cream cashmere turtle-neck sweater and dark skinny jeans. She packed her bags, wondering what she should do with her day until Jon came to pick her up. She still needed to do some gift shopping for her family, so she supposed she'd have to venture into town alone again. She left her bags in her room and wandered down the large staircase to the B&B's communal dining hall. Luckily for her, the Reeds would be serving breakfast to their guests until noon.

The dining hall had a wall that was all windows, from floor to ceiling, with old wooden floors and tables. The stone walls were absolutely covered in various live indoor plants, ranging from trailing greens to leafy dark purples. When Meera brought Sansa her eggs on toast, Sansa couldn't help but jokingly ask -

"How do you keep all these plants alive?"

She'd gone through a phase in college of desperately wanting to be one of those houseplant lovers she was always seeing on instagram, but she'd never managed to keep any of hers alive - not even her cactus.

"It's my dad's special gift," Meera laughed. Meera had been in the same year at school as Robb and Jon, but she'd stayed in Wintertown all this time to help her parents run the family business. It seemed to be thriving.

After breakfast, Sansa got a bus into town to do her Christmas shopping. It was nice perusing the snowy streets she'd often explored when she was younger. She was grateful she didn't bump into anyone she knew from her school days, even though the town was shockingly busy, what with it being two days before Christmas.

Wintertown had grown a great deal in the time she'd been away; there were more shops and cafes than there used to be, and commercial developers seemed to be snatching up the land to build new housing estates.

Sansa even managed to visit the town library, which had been one of her favourite places in all the world when she was a girl. It used to be a Sept of some kind, centuries ago; it had a gothic sort of exterior with pointed towers, and stained glass windows. It had always had a magical sort of feel to it for Sansa. She would spend hours at the library with her nose buried in a book, letting the words on the pages carry her off to different realms. It's a small wonder why she'd decided to pursue a degree in literature and now worked in publishing.

Before she knew it, it was three fourty-five, and she had to rush to get a bus back to the bed and breakfast. She waited for Jon in the lobby with her suitcases and shopping bags.

When she saw Jon's car pull up outside at four thirty on the dot, she hurried out of the building and into the snow, lugging her bags behind her. Jon spotted her and hurried out of the car to help.

"You alright?" He greeted her with an easy smile. Today he was wearing a chunky-knit charcoal sweater under his black wool coat, similar faded jeans and boots, and the same scarf he'd worn the night before. She was almost disappointed he wasn't wearing the burgundy bobble-hat today, but it was nice to see his dark hair all loose and curly in the daylight.

"Merry Christmas Eve Eve!" She said in a sing-song voice that was possibly trying too hard. She wanted to seem bubbly with Christmas spirit, but while she'd been waiting for Jon to arrive, her nerves about going home had started to spiral out of control. "I've had such a busy day. Last minute gift shopping," she grimaced.

Jon chuckled and took some of the bags off her to carry to the car. She'd bought a few bottles of Dornish Red - her mum's favourite - as her mother had always told her to never show up empty-handed when visiting friends or family. The bottles clinked together noisily in the bags as Jon loaded them into the trunk.

"Thanks," Sansa smiled as Jon put her suitcase in with the rest of their stuff. Jon closed the boot and turned to look at her. His gaze swept her up and down and she wondered what he might be searching for.

"How was work?" She asked, burying her hands in her coat pockets.

"It was fine. Bit busier today, despite it not even being five o'clock yet. That's what Christmas does to people, I suppose," Jon shrugged. "Alright if I let Ghost out to say hello? I'm worried he might try and burst through the seats to reach you," he said.

"I thought you said he was good in the car?" Sansa narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

"He is. He can just get a bit excited meeting new people, is all," Jon explained, peering through the window of the backseat with a fond look on his face.

"Okay," Sansa nodded. She dropped her arms to her sides and braced herself. "I'm ready for the puppy love."

Jon stopped as he was reaching for the door handle, shooting her a worried look.

"He's not really a puppy anymore," Jon frowned. "He's, uh, big."

"I know," Sansa said, as if that was obvious. She didn't want Jon to think she was stupid. Her mother had warned her, over the phone when they'd arranged their plans, that the dogs had gotten quite large.

Just over a year ago, Robb had come across three abandoned puppies in a cardboard box on the side of the road. He'd rushed them to the vets and, somehow, her parents had ended up claiming two while Jon insisted on taking the third. Robb had wanted to claim one as well, but he lived in a small apartment in White Harbour, one that didn't allow pets. Summer, Greywind and Ghost, the pups had later been named.

Jon studied her for a long moment with assessing grey eyes.

"Okay. He won't hurt you," he assured her as he opened the door to let Ghost out.

Yes, Sansa had been warned the dogs were large. It seemed she had simply vastly underestimated just how large. Ghost was an enormous thing of white fluff, with long, long legs and pointed ears. Sansa was briefly stunned that he even fit in the back of Jon's car. He hopped out and quickly approached Sansa, his tongue lolling about in excitement.

"Oh, hello," she murmured, her initial nerves fading when the dog stopped and sat in front of her. Ghost's head reached the height of her stomach. The vets, apparently, suspected the dogs might have some direwolf lineage, and looking at Ghost now, Sansa thought they might be right.

Ghost looked up at her with knowing, red eyes, and started to sniff her face when she crouched down to greet him. Slowly, Sansa smoothed her hands through his long, white fur, then rubbed his velvety-soft ears. "Aren't you a handsome boy?" She whispered.

Ghost didn't lick her face; he merely sniffed her vigorously before gently licking near her eye, his tongue barely grazing her lashes. Sansa leaned back to smile at the dog. "And a gentleman, too," she giggled. She glanced up to see Jon watching them, his hands in his pockets, something impossibly tender in his expression and in his warm, grey eyes.

"Shall we go, then?" He asked after clearing his throat.

"Will you be a good boy?" Sansa asked Ghost, stretching back up to her full height and looking down into the dog's unusual red eyes.

In answer, Ghost turned away from her and calmly trotted back to Jon, then waited to be let back into the car. Sansa and Jon laughed and the three of them got settled and strapped in, with Ghost spread out across the backseat, belted in with some sort of special harness.

"He's very well behaved," Sansa commented. "He didn't seem too excitable to me."

"He likes you," Jon murmured. "Hot chocolate?" He then offered her a thermos he pulled from the door compartment with a knowing smile.

Sansa gasped and quickly took the thermos from him with eager hands. She'd always loved hot chocolate; it had been one of her favourite things about Christmas-time when she was a girl, and she wondered if Jon had somehow remembered that.

Her dad used to go all out when making hot chocolate for the kids at Christmas, with whipped cream, marshmallows, crushed candy canes and chocolate sprinkles. But that was only ever a special treat for them during the festive period.

"You came prepared," Sansa murmured, both brows raised high as she uncapped the thermos to breathe in the deep chocolatey scent.

"Of course. I've brought plenty of provisions for our journey," he said solemnly, as if impersonating a character from some historical TV show. Sansa tried to hide her laugh behind the thermos as she took a sip.

"Mmm," she sighed after tasting it. "That's good." It didn't have whipped cream or marshmallows or candy canes or sprinkles, but it was still delicious. She could tell Jon had made it using real chocolate, melted in a pan.

"Yeah?" Jon chuckled as he started the car and they began the long drive. "Oh, I almost forgot - Gilly made you cookies. They're in the trunk."

"She - she made cookies? For me?" Sansa asked, surprised and touched.

"Well, she said they're for both of us, but -" Jon started.

"Liar," she cut him off with a grin. "I keep wondering if I should ask you for her number."

Jon glanced sideways at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Do I need to remind you that she's engaged to my best friend?" He smirked.

"I didn't mean it like that," Sansa rolled her eyes, grinning, then quirked a teasing brow of her own. "I thought Robb was your best friend?"

Jon groaned, then laughed.

"Don't tell him I said that about Sam. I'll never hear the end of it," he said fondly, shaking his head.

"Hmm," Sansa pretended to ponder it. "Alright. Your secret's safe with me," she smiled as Jon laughed again.

Sansa looked out the window as they passed through the busy streets. The colourful Christmas lights were starting to flicker on, shops closing for the day, while crowds of people headed into the warmly-lit restaurants and bars. The snow was still falling in soft flurries, and it would no doubt be dark by the time they reached Winterfell. She trusted Jon to get them there safely.

She looked back and giggled at Ghost, who sat with his wet nose pressed against the window, his breath fogging the glass as he watched the people and cars with keen interest.

"How was your day in town, anyway? Is it nice being back?" Jon asked after a few minutes of quiet.

"Yeah, it is," she nodded, even if she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about being back in the north after so long. "Well, I stayed in bed until half ten, like a teenager," she admitted, and Jon chuckled softly. "Wintertown has changed a lot. I tried to visit as many of the old shops as I could, but some of them have been replaced with something else," she murmured. Jon hummed in agreement.

"Did you manage to visit the library?" He asked, shooting her another quick smile.

"I - how did you know?" She stared at him, shocked. Jon only turned his head to look at her with an expression that said 'seriously?'

"The library was always your favourite," he said softly. "But it can't seem like much now after the places you've probably seen in the big cities."

"It was exactly how I remembered it," she smiled, looking down at her hands wrapped around the thermos in her lap. "I was glad that hadn't changed, at least. It's still my favourite library, out of all the ones I've seen. I, um, I almost missed my bus back because I was there. I got swept up in it."

She glanced at Jon to see him grinning, his eyes on the road ahead. His smiles were so bright, a flash of white teeth and his lovely grey eyes crinkling at the corners; each one made Sansa's pulse stutter, for some reason, and she looked away, feeling nervous. "How was your day? Did you just have work or - ?" She asked.

"Nah, I didn't start 'til twelve. Ghost and I spent most of the morning at Sam and Gilly's. Gave Little Sam his present. Then I did some shopping, too. Last minute," he grimaced at the admission, just as Sansa had earlier. "Managed to endure the busy streets, than the busy pub. But that was alright - mostly just pulling pints and talking to the oldies, like Davos."

"I still can't quite believe you work in a bar," Sansa laughed softly. She looked at Jon and noticed something dark flicker across his face, his shoulders rolling as he visibly bristled. 

"How'd you mean?" He muttered, tone guarded.

"Oh, no - I just meant it's - it's quite a social job. You have to talk to a lot of people. And that never really seemed like something you were comfortable with," she quickly tried to explain. She hated that Jon thought she was belittling him in some way. "And I guess I'm not really sure how one goes from being a wildlife researcher beyond the Wall to working in a bar." She stumbled over her words, embarrassed.

Was Jon angry? She and her stupid mouth had offended him in some way, perhaps made him feel lesser, but that hadn't been her intention at all.

After a moment, Jon let out a long, heavy sigh.

"I couldn't stay out in the wilderness forever," he murmured. "Sam knows Jeor Mormont, the owner of the lodge. He recommended it to me. Said it might be good for me to try something that forced me to be around people. He helped me get the job, I gave it a go. Then I stayed." 

"Do you enjoy it? Working there. Being around people?" Sansa asked hesitantly. Jon didn't seem angry with her, but she couldn't quite tell.

He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, seeming to take a minute to think it over.

"I do, actually. I feel comfortable there. Like I don't have to try and pretend to be something I'm not. I can just be myself," Jon admitted, pensive. Sansa looked at him for a long moment, studying his profile as he kept his gaze locked on the road.

"That sounds nice," she whispered, looking away. She fiddled with the thermos, then glanced over her shoulder to check on Ghost. He must have gotten bored of window-watching and had fallen asleep in the backseat, snoring softly; the sight almost made her smile.

She cleared her throat, her eyes darting back to Jon. "I'm sorry if I offended you," she told him quietly. "That wasn't my intention."

Jon shook his head, his gaze flicking to hers briefly.

"No, it's - you don't need to apologise. Sometimes I'm too quick to take offense. 'Specially when it comes to what I do," Jon murmured, eyes back on the road.

Sansa nodded softly in understanding. She wasn't sure what to say, so she reached over to place her hand on Jon's forearm in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. Jon's eyes darted between her face and the road repeatedly, and she tried to give him a smile before withdrawing her hand back to her lap.

They fell into a slightly uncomfortable silence, nothing but the hum of the engine, Ghost snoring and the other cars passing by filling the space around them. Sansa offered Jon the thermos, but he declined with a shake of his head. If she remembered correctly, he'd never had much of a sweet tooth. He hadn't even seemed to enjoy Ned's special hot chocolates when they were kids, but he'd always made himself drink them anyway; probably not wanting to risk disappointing 'Mr Stark.'

They'd managed to weave through the heavy traffic out of Wintertown and were now on the quieter roads heading out to the woods, towards Winterfell. Sansa estimated they had about forty-five minutes to go, if the roads were kind. It was going to be a long drive, indeed.

"Can I turn the radio on?" Sansa asked after a few more minutes of awkward quiet.

"Yeah, 'course," Jon nodded, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel again.

Sansa fiddled with the buttons and dials, frowning at the warbling static. They both jumped and Sansa winced as the familiar high notes of Mariah Carey flooded through the speakers; she quickly changed the station.

'Last Christmas I gave you my heart' - no. She pressed the button. 'Don't make me fall in love again if he won't be here' - no. She pressed the button again. 'Presents, what a beautiful sight, don't mean a thing if you ain't holding me tight' - ugh.

"Are all Christmas songs actually love songs?" Sansa grumbled, exasperated, as she continued to repeatedly press the button. She was in no mood to listen to a bunch of love songs after her breakup with Harry the night before. Not that she loved Harry - she hadn't, and didn't. But the romantic lyrics pouring from the radio still filled her with annoyance.

"I guess a lot of them are, yeah," Jon laughed. Sansa blinked at him, surprised he was laughing; surprised he no longer seemed to be sulking, or brooding in his own thoughts. "But there are a few good ones about going home for Christmas. You know, after being away for a long time," he said, turning his head to shoot her a meaningful look and a sly smile. Sansa rolled her eyes, her lips twitching.

"That's just too on the nose," she muttered haughtily. She fiddled with the buttons some more until 'Fairytale of King's Landing' started to play. "Oh no," she wrinkled her nose, reaching for the button.

Jon's hand suddenly darted out to move hers away, their fingers brushing together. Sansa tried not to jolt at his touch as it sent a thrill of something through her.

"This is my favourite Christmas song," Jon told her. Sansa gaped at him, her brow furrowed.

As a young girl, she had never liked the song. The lyrics seemed too mean and angry for a Christmas song, for her liking, and she'd never even understood what most of them meant. She liked it even less after living in King's Landing; she didn't have many good memories from her time there.

"No, it's not," Sansa said in disbelief. "You take that back!"

Jon gave her an incredulous look.

"No," he scoffed, his eyes shining with amusement. Sansa reached for the button again and Jon gently, playfullly, swatted her hand away. She scowled and pretended to sulk, leaning back in her seat with her arms crossed. They listened to the song quietly for a moment, with Sansa making a show of pouting.

'When you first took my hand on that cold Christmas Eve, you promised me Broadway was waiting for me -'

"It was my mum's favourite," Jon told her after a while, his voice soft. Sansa turned to look at him.

"Oh," she murmured, quickly feeling guilty. "I'm sorry."

Growing up, Jon had only ever had his mother - and the Starks. Who his father might have been was completely unknown. Lyanna passed away when Jon was sixteen, after a long battle with cancer. It had shaken the whole Stark family - who'd all become close with Lyanna after Jon and Robb first became friends at the age of five - and Jon became even more quiet and withdrawn in his grief.

With no dad or other family coming to claim him, her parents had managed to get temporary guardianship of Jon until he turned eighteen, and he'd come to live in the guesthouse at Winterfell for a while. It was strange how, even after all of that, Sansa still always thought of Jon as 'Robb's friend' - almost family - while her younger siblings insisted Jon was their brother. 

"No need to be sorry," Jon said quietly. There was a sad, wistful sort of smile on his face. "I still like listening to it. Reminds me of her."

At a loss on what to say, with her heart aching for him and the sad teenage boy he'd once been, Sansa reached out and grabbed Jon's hand, giving it a squeeze. He looked across at her, his grey eyes wide, then gave her a small smile and squeezed back. Sansa removed her hand shortly after; surely, it would be strange if she carried on holding his hand, wouldn't it? Even if she, selfishly, really liked how his warm, calloused fingers felt wrapped around her own.

After another lull of quiet, with the song still playing faintly in the background, Sansa thought she heard Jon mumbling something. She glanced over at him and stilled. He was muttering quietly along to the lyrics.

She had never heard Jon Snow sing - not once. Not even for her or her siblings' birthdays when it was time to blow the candles out on the cake. She'd first noticed it at Arya's fourth birthday, when Sansa was six and Jon and Robb were eight. Everyone had been singing 'happy birthday', but Jon had only mouthed along silently. Sansa had paid special attention to Jon at each following birthday, to see if he would sing or only pretend. As a child, Sansa had thought it a great crime that he didn't join in properly.

But he was singing now, even if it was barely audible. He turned to look at her and gave her a half-smile.

"The boys of the KLPD choir were singing 'Blackwater Bay'," he suddenly said, louder, giving Sansa a nudge with his arm. She grimaced, but then her face split into an embarrassed grin of its own accord.

"And the bells were ringing out for Christmas Day!" She joined in, almost shouting it, before covering her face with both hands and laughing.

At the halfway point, they stopped the car so Jon could let Ghost out to stretch his legs and do his business. Sansa waited in the car and checked her phone. Just a few texts from her mother, telling Sansa how much they were all looking forward to seeing her. Sansa wasn't sure if she believed her. It was well and truly dark out now, and the snowy woods around them looked a little eery. 

Jon got Ghost secured in the backseat once more, then returned to the driver's side with two biscuit tins. Gilly's cookies, Sansa quickly realised. The tin he handed her had classic chocolate chip inside. They were a bit hard and chewy - perhaps too much sugar, Sansa thought - but still good. Gilly had made them herself, and that made them far more special than anything from a shop. She watched Jon curiously as he opened the other tin, then stared down at the cookies inside in confusion.

"They're green," she said, with concern. Jon grinned and took a large bite out of one.

"Pistachio," he explained in between chewing. "My favourite."

"Pistachio?!" Sansa cried, horrified, her face scrunching up in disgust. Jon laughed loudly at Sansa's blatant repulsion. 

"Well, I guess we know how we'll be sharing them fairly," he chuckled, shaking his head. He quickly ate another cookie then started the car again, passing Sansa both the tins. "I can give you Gilly's number, if you want. I'm sure she'd love to hear from you," he said after a minute of driving. Sansa had completely forgotten she'd mentioned that.

She frowned down at the tins in her lap.

"I'd like that, too," she mumbled. "But I have to go back to the Vale in a few days, and I don't - I don't know if I'll be coming back here," she confessed. It all depended on how this visit went, really.

"Oh," Jon said quietly. "Well, er, are you happy there? In the Vale."

Was she happy there? She'd never really stopped to think about it. What did it even mean, to be happy? Her mouth opened and closed a few times as she tried to come up with an answer. She thought about what Jon had said about working at the lodge, how he didn't have to pretend to be something else; that he could just be himself. Sansa hadn't known what it was like to be herself in a very long time.

"I guess so," she said with a shrug. "I love my job, at least."

"That's good," Jon nodded. "I always knew you were smarter than the rest of us."

Sansa scoffed.

"That simply isn't true," she laughed. Bran was so clever he'd surged ahead in school, and was now an undergrad in astrophysics, for goodness' sake. And Jon must be a lot smarter than he lets on, to have studied wildlife for the Citadel for so long.

"Yeah, it is. Have you ever thought about moving back here?" Jon asked then, catching her off guard.

"Um... no," she admitted. She'd never even considered it. The mere suggestion filled her with anxiety, and she shifted in her seat, uncomfortable.

"Well, like you said, Wintertown has changed a lot. There's more shops and restaurants. New houses and modern apartments. I'm sure there's some sort of publishing job you could get here, if you ever wanted to," Jon mumbled, seeming deep in thought.

More shops and restaurants. New houses and modern apartments. Is that why Jon thought she'd left for King's Landing? Because the north wasn't modern enough for her? Did he think she was still the naive, materialistic girl she'd once been? The thought left a sour taste in her mouth. 

"That isn't -" Sansa faltered, turning slightly to look at him. "That isn't why I left. Because the north wasn't modern or - or good enough," she felt the need to explain.

"I just... never felt like I belonged here. I never felt like I fit in with my siblings. I was never sporty or outdoorsy, I never liked their wrestling or chasing games. They teased me for being a bookworm. Well, Bran liked the same books as me for a while, and that was nice, to have that bond - but then he got really into physics and decided my 'fairytales' were lame."

She was frowning to herself, lost in her memories. Her therapist often said she had a habit of focusing on bad memories, and often forgot the good ones. Was that what she was doing now? "I guess I just wanted to find somewhere where I might belong. And all the sunshine sounded nice. But I'm not sure I belong in the south either. Maybe I don't belong anywhere," she murmured, turning to look out the window.

Then she cringed at herself, embarrassed. "Sorry. I don't know why I said that."

"No, it's-" Jon frowned, meeting her gaze for a moment when she glanced nervously back at him. "I think I get it. I mean, I didn't - I didn't know you felt that way. Back then. I always thought you fit in fine with the others, even if you liked different things. You- you always belonged there, Sansa. Even if you didn't feel like you did. They're your family, and they love you, no matter what."

Sansa blinked furiously as tears started to burn her eyes. Jon wouldn't say that if he knew the truth. If he knew what had really happened between her and Arya all those years ago. Maybe her younger sister hadn't told anyone, after all. But Sansa wanted to try and make amends; it was why she was finally coming home after all this time.

Sansa's therapist had somehow gotten through to her; that she couldn't stay alone forever, that she couldn't keep hiding from her family and the past. She had no idea how Arya might react to her coming to Winterfell, but she needed to try.

"Thank you," Sansa managed to whisper after a long, stilted pause. She couldn't bring herself to look at Jon, keeping her gaze firmly locked on the dark road ahead.

"I never really felt like I belonged either," Jon told her after another long pause. He exhaled heavily. "I wanted so badly to be one of you. To be a Stark. But I never could be. Some of the kids at school tried to make sure I remembered that. That I remembered I only had my mum, no dad. That she and I never had much money. That I belonged more with your parents' servants than with your family."

"Oh, Jon," Sansa frowned at him, her own inner turmoil momentarily forgotten. "That's horrible. I'm sorry."

"It is what it is," Jon shrugged. "I doubt many of us got out of high school unscathed."

That was true enough; kids that age could be so viciously cruel. Sansa had been, at times - to her siblings, but not to Jon.

They were getting closer now. Sansa could feel it; she started to recognise the twists and turns in the road, bringing them closer to Winterfell. Ghost seemed to sense it, too, shifting about restlessly. How were they so close to the house already? She needed more time. 

Sansa put the tins and half-empty thermos down in the footwell, needing them off her lap. Then she adjusted her coat and sweater. She ran her hands through her hair. Her knee wouldn't stop bouncing and she couldn't stop picking at her nails, needing to fiddle with something. Were they running out of air in the car? Her lungs were starting to feel tight.

"You're nervous," Jon acknowledged, after she'd been fidgeting for what felt like hours. "You don't need to be."

"I'm just - what if they -" she gasped in a shaky breath. "I'm scared."

"Hey," Jon said, eyes flitting between her and the road. "It's going to be fine, Sansa. You'll see. They've all missed you so much. Do you want to stop? We can turn around or - "

"No," she shook her head vehemently. "Keep going. We're almost there." She would hate herself forever if she cowered out now.

She must have held her breath when they reached the familiar security gates. When they started up the long, winding pathway. She needed to expel the air, suck in a new breath - but how? She gripped at the support handle on the door, fumbling for something. Jon reached out and grabbed her hand, and she clung to it like a lifeline. "Breathe, Sans," Jon urged her gently. 

She nodded and sucked in a small breath. Then another. All the while gripping and squeezing Jon's hand so tight, it must have been painful.

Then the house came into view, and the breath left her lungs in a harsh exhale. It was exactly the same as she remembered it. As if it had been perfectly preserved and safely nestled inside the pages of a photo album all this time, untouched.

The same grey stone walls; the same two wide turrets at the front of the house, one on each side. The French bay windows. The same ivy growing up the walls. The bright and colourful Christmas lights they used to hang at the front of the house every year - though they must have been replaced, at some point. 

The oak, linden and birch trees lining the property were also covered in string lights, and the ground was white with snow, reflecting the colours in the early night as it continued to fall in soft flurries. It looked like a Christmas card that had been plucked from Sansa's memory.

She hadn't realised she was crying until Jon gave her hand another light squeeze. She pulled her hand from his, embarrassed, and he let go as they drove slowly up the winding path to the large gravel driveway. She really needed to stop clinging to Jon like a scared little girl. Ghost was now frantic with excitement, having realised where they were.

"Well," Jon said gruffly as they parked. "Here we are. You ready?"

Sansa didn't bother to wipe the tears from her face as she turned her head to look at him, feeling determined. Resolved. She took a deep breath, clenched her jaw and nodded.

"I'm ready."

Chapter Text

She was not, in fact, ready.

She was basically hiding behind the car at this point, bouncing from one foot to the other with her hands buried deep in her coat pockets, trying to keep warm. It was much colder now than it had been earlier; her breath left her in thick clouds in the frosty air, and she trembled with jerky shivers. Whether her shaking was from the drop in temperature or unbearable anxiety, she wasn't sure. She felt fit to burst with nerves.

Ghost had been let out and was now running around excitedly, seeming to stop to pee on every tree and patch of snow he could find. Jon had taken the cookie tins and thermos from Sansa and put them in one of his bags, and she moved forward to help as he started unloading their stuff from the trunk.

"Don't worry, I can sort this out," Jon told her kindly. Sansa turned to look at him sharply, almost ready to grab his arm and screech 'I'm not going in there without you.'

Behind them, Sansa heard a noise from the house. She turned to look at the front door - huge, dark cherry-wood, with ornate carvings and small, glass panels forming a circle in the centre, currently framed by a wreath of holly leaves and red poinsettias - as it opened.

First the dogs came tumbling out, barking loudly and alarmingly massive. They raced towards them at full speed, and Ghost darted forward in a blur of white to greet his siblings.

Sansa watched as the dogs said 'hello' to one another, licking and sniffing, tails wagging furiously. Then they descended on her and she stiffened, moving to shield herself behind Jon. She'd had no problem meeting Ghost earlier, but now her nerves were fried and raw, and she didn't think she could handle their excitement and slobbery mouths.

"Away," Jon said, sternly and calmly, and the dogs obeyed, deciding to chase each other through the snow instead.

"Sansa!" She turned back to the house to see her mum rushing down the steps, her dad not far behind. Catelyn was almost sprinting towards them down the stone path.

"Don't slip!" Sansa blurted. Then she rushed forward to meet her mother halfway. They collided in a fierce hug that just about winded Sansa, and she clung to her mother, feeling Catelyn's quiet sobs jerk through both their bodies.

"Oh, my baby. My darling girl. I'm so happy you're home." Catelyn murmured tearfully, smoothing her hand over Sansa's long, auburn hair.

"Hi, mum," Sansa said softly, blinking through her own tears.

During her first year away at KLU, her parents had come to visit her once every few months. Sometimes they brought her younger siblings; sometimes it was just the two of them. Sometimes Robb came out on his own, as well. But after the first year, it had slowly become 'Bran has an important test coming up', or 'Rickon has a rugby match', or 'Arya has a taekwondo tournament'. Her parents' visits slowly fizzled to a stop. And Robb just seemed to have grown bored of visiting her, and the novelty of King's Landing, entirely by that point.

She would often wonder if she was to blame. If her parents were hurt, or angry with her, because she hadn't come home for any of her breaks or holidays. She was partly to blame, wasn't she? Sansa could have gone to see them at Winterfell anytime, if it was merely a busy schedule keeping her family away. But Joffrey had come into the picture by then, and Sansa had been utterly obsessed with him, desperate to please him. And after Joffrey, she'd just been too deeply ashamed of herself to try and visit home.

Sansa shook her head of those memories and leaned back at the same time as her mother. Catelyn framed Sansa's face with both hands, her smile wobbly and her deep blue eyes - darker than Sansa's - brimming with tears.

"Look at you," Catelyn beamed. "You're so beautiful. My girl," she whispered. Then her smile dimmed a little. "A bit thin, perhaps, but we'll soon fix that."

"Mum," Sansa groaned, embarrassed. It was never nice to have someone comment on your weight, whether they meant it kindly or not. But gods, it had been so long since Sansa had felt mothered. She still spoke to her mum on the phone regularly; sometimes they video called, too. She'd always felt closest to her mother, and they'd kept in close contact. But being mothered over the phone wasn't the same as the real thing. Sansa hugged her again quickly, tightly.

"I've made three batches of your favourite cookies. Lemon and white chocolate. Just for you," Catelyn beamed again, talking perhaps just a little too fast. Sansa took a step back and laughed.

"That seems... excessive," she couldn't help but say, shaking her head, shortly followed by a grin. In her peripheral, she could see her dad and Jon hugging and talking quietly.

"Well, you know how your brothers are. Rickon was eating them right off the piping hot oven tray."

"That sounds about right, actually," Sansa nodded, brows raising high. She and her mother shared a warm look together, Catelyn's hand wrapped affectionately around Sansa's wrist. She felt another hand hovering at her back and turned to see her dad behind her, a gentle smile on his face.

Unlike her mother, Ned looked a lot older than the last time she'd seen him, with new creases around his eyes and much more grey in his hair.

"Hi, dad," Sansa smiled shyly. She turned as Ned pulled her into a firm hug; one hand at the centre of her back, his other arm wrapping tight around her shoulders.

"Hi, sweetheart. Good to have you home."

Sansa's cheek pressed against his own stubbly one.

"Good to see you, dad."

She'd never been very close with her father. To Sansa, it had always seemed like he didn't quite understand her, didn't know how to talk to her. Not like with his other children. The few times it had ever been just the two of them, such as when he picked her up from somewhere, they would simply drive or walk in companiable silence. But the quiet had never really bothered her; she knew her dad loved her in his own, guarded sort of way.

"Let's get you kids inside. It's absolutely freezing," Catelyn decided firmly as Sansa pulled away. "Jon, we've had the guest house set up for you but you're more than welcome to stay in the main house if you'd prefer."

"Thanks, Cat. The guest house suits me fine. I'll take my stuff out there later," Jon shrugged with an easy smile.

With the help of her parents, they were able to carry her and Jon's bags easily between them. Catelyn made a pleased little 'oooh' at the bottles of Dornish Red Sansa had brought her. She wove an arm through her daughter's, signalling Sansa to hang back from the men a little.

"So," her mum said with a knowing sort of smirk, eyeing Sansa keenly. "You were coming home with a boyfriend. And you came with Jon?"

Oh. Sansa couldn't help but let out a nervous little laugh.

"No," she snickered, shaking her head. "It - it's not like that. Jon isn't my boyfriend," she whispered the last part, mortified at the thought of Jon overhearing. She could feel a blush creeping up to her face. "You know my boyfriend's name was Harry, that we work together in the Vale. Jon and I just bumped into each other. We hadn't even spoken for six years until a few days ago."

"Oh," Catelyn frowned. "I see." Did she seem disappointed?That wouldn't make any sense.

There was a teeny part of Sansa that wondered what things might be like if Jon was her boyfriend. But that was a dangerous path to go down, a thought she knew better than to entertain.

Outside the front door, Sansa jumped and covered her ears as her dad let out a sharp whistle through his teeth. The dogs came hurtling out of the trees lining the property, racing each other through the snow and then into the house, barrelling past their humans.

Her parents ushered Sansa through the door first. Thankfully, the entryway was large enough to comfortably fit them all and their luggage. The dogs went hurrying off towards the kitchen, no doubt smelling food. Sansa, too, could smell something delicious cooking; it smelled like home. She could faintly hear 'Christmas Wrapping' by The Waitresses playing from somewhere else in the house.

Inside, just like outside, looked exactly as she remembered. Dark wood panelling, pale cream walls, large chandeliers. The huge dark wooden staircase with the wine-red runner rug. The same family photos and old paintings hanging on the walls.

Sansa smiled, walking further into the house; she carefully set the two bags she was carrying down at the bottom of the stairs. She started a slow spin, taking it all in, then froze at the sound of a familiar voice.

"There she is." She looked down the hallway behind her to see Robb standing in the doorway to the living room, grinning at her with bright blue eyes that matched her own. "Hello, stranger," he greeted as he walked towards her slowly.

Robb held his arms out and Sansa felt her eyes sting with tears, once again, as she hurried forward and into his embrace. Her big brother hugged her so tight her feet left the ground and he crushed the air from her lungs. She had no doubt that their mother would be fully crying now.

"Can't breathe," Sansa managed to choke out. She heard the others laugh as Robb let her go and set her feet back on the ground. Once free, Sansa squeezed Robb's forearms and beamed up at him. "I missed you," she whispered as a single tear slipped down her cheek.

"Missed you, too," Robb nodded, smiling softly. "Come and meet your neice and future sister-in-law."

Sansa looked back at Jon and her parents. Catelyn had her hands clasped over her chest, a steady stream of tears flowing down her face.

"Go on, love," Ned smiled. She thought his eyes looked a bit misty, too. "We'll take your things up to your room."

Her eyes briefly flickered to Jon, and he gave her a reassuring nod and a small, encouraging smile - the smile that made his eyes squint slightly. Sansa tried to swallow her nerves as she followed Robb towards the living room.

Their 'main' living room was huge, with three large, grey couches centred around an old fireplace, and plushy cream carpet that Sansa assumed was new. Her mother never would have dared having cream carpet when her kids were younger, not with how feral and muddy Sansa's siblings would often get.

There was a fire going, filling the room with warmth and an occasional pop, and an absolutely enormous Christmas tree decorated in red and gold behind the sitting area. 'Home Alone' was playing quietly on the TV to the left, though no one seemed to be paying it much attention. Sansa's gaze immediately went to the only people in the room; the beautiful, dark-haired woman sitting in the middle couch and the tiny baby in her arms.

"Sansa, this is Talisa, my fiancee, and our daughter, Minnie," Robb said with a wide, proud smile, gesturing at Sansa to come closer.

"Hi," Sansa smiled with a little wave. "It's so nice to meet you."

"Hi, Sansa. I'm so glad you're here!" Talisa grinned up at her. She really was beautiful, with long, dark hair, and warm, brown eyes. "Come and sit! Please." She patted the empty seat beside her.

Sansa moved cautiously, taking off her coat before easing herself down into the seat next to Talisa. Minnie, the baby, was asleep, and Sansa was worried about somehow doing something wrong and waking her up.

"Gods, look at her," Sansa couldn't help but breathe, staring down at her tiny neice. She was utterly perfect, with chubby cheeks, long lashes and a swirl of dark hair. "She's so beautiful."

"She's perfect," Robb agreed, taking the seat on Sansa's other side.

"She's eight weeks old tomorrow," Talisa stated proudly, beaming down at her daughter. "Here," she then said, shifting to pass Minnie over to Sansa.

"Oh, um," Sansa mumbled nervously, and then the baby was in her arms. She let out a slow exhale, holding her neice as carefully as she could. She stared down at Minnie's tiny face, peaceful in sleep, and Sansa had to blink back tears because she was just so perfect. And gods, the baby smell. It was definitely doing something to her.

"I was pretty surprised you didn't come up to meet her when she was born," Robb said quietly. Sansa tried to swallow down the lump in her throat.

"I know," she whispered, glancing between Robb and Talisa. "I should have. I'm sorry." It was just another thing for her to feel guilty about.

"Please, don't worry about it," Talisa dismissed with a shake of her head, reaching for one of Sansa's hands and giving it a gentle squeeze. "It was an extremely overwhelming time. I'm happy to be meeting you now instead."

Talisa's smile was warm and genuine, and Sansa found herself returning it. She could tell Talisa had a soothing, grounding sort of presence - kind of like Jon. "Gods, you and Robb look so alike," Talisa then said, and Sansa grimaced.

She'd heard that a lot growing up, but did any girl really want to be told they looked like their brother? Robb and Talisa both laughed at Sansa's scrunched-up face.

"Did you get the present I sent?" She asked them, just before her parents and Jon came into the room. Her mother beamed and cooed at the sight of Sansa with baby Minisa in her arms. Sansa sent a quick prayer to the Seven that her mum wouldn't say something horribly cliché like 'when are you going to have one of your own?' Sansa really didn't need another reminder of how spectacularly she was failing in the dating department.

"Yes, it's perfect. I can't thank you enough," Talisa gushed. Her parents sat down on the couch to the left and Jon took a seat on the empty one to the right. Sansa had ordered Robb and Talisa's gift online two weeks ago, and she'd sent it directly to their address in White Harbour.

"What did you get them?" Jon asked. Sansa turned her head to answer, but Robb got there first.

"A stroller," Robb said with a shrug. Sansa turned her head back to smile down at baby Minnie.

"Not just any stroller," Talisa said sternly, as if it was very important to her that Robb remembered its key features. Sansa could sense Robb rolling his eyes as he huffed playfullly.

"Fine. A very expensive, top-of-the-range stroller," he sighed.

"It has maximum safety and comfort. Two cupholders! And it folds down at the push of a button, but it has weight sensors so it won't do it if Minnie's in there," Talisa told them with a pleased grin.

"Made the one I bought seem like an ancient artifact," Robb muttered. "Didn't I send you a photo once we set it up?" He asked Sansa.

"No," she laughed. She rarely ever got photos or texts from Robb; he only sent them when she demanded 'the photo tax' of her gorgeous, little neice.

"Oh, I thought I did," he frowned. Then he clapped his hand against his knee and looked to Jon again. "Thanks for bringing Sansa, by the way, man. That was nice of you. I didn't think you guys had kept in touch."

"Oh, we didn't," Sansa said quickly, wide eyes darting to Jon. "We just - bumped into each other in Wintertown."

"Yeah," Jon nodded; his gaze didn't leave Sansa's for a second. "It was no trouble," he shrugged one shoulder. Sansa stared back at him, feeling as if he was slowly pulling her under water. What was it about his grey eyes that was so captivating?

"Really?" Robb murmured, eyes narrowed as he looked from Jon to Sansa then back to Jon again. "How funny. That you just bumped into each other."

Sansa was starting to feel uncomfortable, but she wasn't entirely sure why. She wasn't sure why Robb was acting so strangely, as if she and Jon had a big secret they were trying to hide. Sure, she had arrived in Wintertown a few days earlier than she'd told her family, but that was it. She didn't think that was some great offence. Maybe she should just come clean about it?

"Where's your boyfriend? Mum said you were bringing a boyfriend," Robb said next, loudly. Sansa winced, then adjusted Minnie in her arms, propped against her lap.

"Okay," she sighed. "So I actually got into Wintertown a few days ago. I've been staying at the Reeds' bed and breakfast. Harry said it would be romantic. I went into Castle Black for some food on Monday and Jon was working there. I asked him not to tell you guys," she admitted. She carefully passed Minnie back to Talisa. "And Harry and I broke up last night. After he stood me up and told me he's been seeing another woman from the office where we work."

With her cheeks burning in embarrassment, Sansa rose to stand and cleared her throat. "Where are the others? I should probably go and say hi."

Her mother blinked at her, taken aback, then shook herself out of it.

"Bran and Rickon are around here somewhere. I tried calling them down, but they're heathens. And Arya is -?" Catelyn looked to Ned with a questioning frown.

"Arya and Gendry went to Mole's Town to see some friends. They'll be back for dinner," Ned answered with a small smile aimed Sansa's way. Sansa nodded before slipping out of the room to find her younger brothers. She drifted down the familiar hallways, feeling almost like a ghost dropped into a past life.

Had Robb been trying to insinuate there was something going on between her and Jon? Because that was completely ridiculous. Until just a couple of days ago, she hadn't spoken to Jon in years. They'd never even texted.

Sure, Jon was handsome, and kind, and he smelled good - all piney and masculine. And she liked the sound of his voice, all low and gravelly, like a rich, smokey whiskey. And she found his mere presence calming, soothing, and in just two days she'd felt like she could tell him pretty much anything. And yes, he was sweet, and attentive, and she knew he would be a great boyfriend to the right girl. But that didn't mean - that wasn't - Oh.

These were dangerous thoughts, the thoughts of a silly little girl who'd had her heart broken one too many times. She needed to lock that shit down quickly, and throw away the key.

But was it really so bad of her to think it? Was it so terrible of her to imagine what something could be like with Jon? To imagine waking up next to him, to imagine what his curly hair might feel like between her fingers, to imagine being soothed by the low timbre of his voice when her inner panic was becoming overwhelming? To imagine him holding her hand in his, as he'd done in the car, or being held by him, or what his full, soft-looking lips might feel like against her own?

Yes, these are bad thoughts, Sansa. She sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. She rounded the corner into the kitchen and the sight of her youngest brother became a much-needed distraction.

Rickon was standing at the fridge with the door open, shoving pork pies into his mouth while feeding Summer, Greywind and Ghost pieces of ham straight from the packet. The dogs sat dutifully at his feet, patiently waiting their turns. 'Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree' was quietly playing from the old stereo her mum kept by the kitchen sink. Sansa raised an eyebrow and put one hand on her hip before clearing her throat.

"Oh, shit," Rickon blurted. Then he turned and gave Sansa a sheepish smile, blue eyes wide. "Sansa! Hey!"

She could hardly believe this was Rickon. When she'd left home, he had been eleven years old, the baby of the family. Now he was eighteen, taller than her, with long, gangly limbs and a wild mop of golden-auburn curls that almost completely covered his eyes.

"Hey," she smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. Rickon wiped the crumbs from his mouth with the back of his hand and hastily put the ham and pork pies away, then closed the fridge. He slowly shuffled towards Sansa and gave her what may have been the most awkward hug of her life.

"You actually came. You look different," Rickon said, taking a step back and furrowing his brow at her. She couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, sure. I look different. Look at you! You were supposed to stay a baby," she said accusingly. Rickon laughed and rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, I can't control time," he said with a shrug, shoving his hands in the pockets of his black hoodie. "You met the dogs?" He asked, pointing with his chin to the dogs where they still sat, ever hopeful for more ham, by the fridge.

"Sort of," she shrugged back. She felt guilty for not having said 'hello' to them when she first arrived, so she called them over.

Summer, Greywind and Ghost happily trotted to her and sat at her feet. She gave them each a fuss and a kiss at the top of their fluffy heads, Ghost included, even though she had met him properly already.

Where Ghost was pure white, Summer had light brown and gold running through her fur, and Greywind was covered in a smattering of dark grey. Where Ghost had unusual, red eyes, Summer and Greywind had deep, golden eyes - further 'proof' that they were likely part wolf.

"So, uh," Rickon started, trying to figure out something to say. Poor kid. Sansa must almost seem like a complete stranger to him. "How's work?" He asked, lifting his chin and crossing his arms over his chest. Sansa smirked and raised her eyebrows at him.

"Work is good. How's school?" She murmured, fighting the grin tickling at the corners of her mouth.

"It's okay," Rickon muttered, scowling briefly. "Kind of hard to follow in the footsteps of the prodigal son, the astrophysicist extraordinaire."

"That is my full name, yes," came a voice from behind them.

Sansa whirled around to see Bran standing in the doorway. He also seemed to be taller than her now. What were they feeding these kids?

"Bran!" She beamed, accepting his hug when he hurried forward to wrap his arms around her. "Gods, you're both so tall! What the hell is going on?!" She laughed.

"Missed you, Sans. I'm glad you came," Bran told her softly. She nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder before they broke away.

"I missed you too," Sansa smiled sadly. "I missed all of you."

And that was true. She hadn't stayed away all this time because she didn't love them or miss them. She did, very much so. She'd just been too much of a coward to come home.

From behind Bran, Sansa saw another figure slowly coming into the kitchen. She blinked in surprise. "Jojen?" She asked, surprised and confused.

Jojen Reed, Meera's younger brother, had been in her year at school. She hadn't seen him since their last day of their final year, but he was easy enough to recognise, with his sandy brown hair and brown eyes the same as Meera's.

"Hey, Sansa," Jojen waved with a small smile.

"What are you- ?" She frowned, blinking at him repeatedly, then looked to Rickon and Bran. Rickon was trying to shuffle away, backwards, and Bran was blushing, looking down at his feet. Oh? Oh!

Bran looked up and met her gaze.

"Jojen is my boyfriend," he answered calmly, but there was something hiding deep in his dark, brown eyes - something like worry.

"Oh, Bran," Sansa smiled. "That's wonderful." She stepped forward to hug her brother again, tightly, her arms looped around his neck. She wanted to tell him how proud she was, how happy she was for him. She wanted to ask why he hadn't told her - he could have called. But that wasn't her place; Bran had every right to tell people - whatever it was - on his own terms.

"That's really wonderful," she repeated as she pulled away, smiling up at him. "Jojen," she said, turning her grin to the other young man. "It's so nice to see you again."

"And you," Jojen tipped his head. He slowly walked closer towards them, seeming a little more comfortable now. "I had the funniest text from my mum and sister the other day. They said you were staying at the B&B?" Jojen gave her a quizzical look.

"Yeah, I was," Sansa laughed, reaching out to gently squeeze his arm. She hoped it would encourage some kind of familiarity between them. "That's crazy, actually. I was there with your family and you were here with mine," she chuckled, shaking her head. "I had no idea. They didn't say anything."

"They thought it was hilarious," Bran smirked, raising both brows. Sansa gave both the boys another warm smile. She was so happy for her little brother, for him and Jojen.

She jumped when the dogs started barking and rushed out towards the front door. She'd forgotten that there was rarely ever a moment of peace in Winterfell.

"Oh, Eddard! Catelyn!" A voice shouted from the hall. "Have no fear! Your favourite son is here!"

Sansa frowned, turning to look at the doorway.

"That sounds like -" she turned back to Bran and Jojen.

"Theon," they said in unison, their expressions equally grim.

"Oh, no," Sansa groaned. She'd had no idea Theon was coming.

Theon had also been one of Robb's school friends from the age of five, who'd become a sort of honorary Stark, a stray they'd taken in. Unlike Jon, he had never been an official member of the family, but he'd certainly always considered himself one. It seemed that hadn't changed. The other difference between Theon and Jon? Jon had always been quiet, thoughtful and kind; Theon had always been loud, obnoxious and completely insufferable. But the Starks loved him anyway - most of the time.

"We're here too!" Another voice called out. Arya. Sansa's heart leaped into her throat. She glanced back to notice Bran watching her, his gaze sharp and wary. The family must know something had happened between her and Arya years ago.

This is it, Sansa thought. She swallowed, steeled herself and forced herself to walk towards the main entryway.

She barely paid any attention to Theon as he said her name and hugged her, lifting her and spinning her in the air. She only had eyes for Arya, who was watching Sansa with a completely blank expression.

She noticed her parents hovering in the living room doorway, watching with uncertainty, as were Bran and Jojen behind her.

"Hey," Sansa spoke first, once Theon had set her back on her feet. She took a small step towards her sister. Arya's expression didn't even flicker; it just remained completely, unnervingly blank. She had always used to show her emotions so freely, fiercely; now, she seemed to do the opposite. Sansa had no idea what her younger sister might be thinking or feeling.

"Hey," Arya eventually replied; her voice didn't give anything away, either. It was almost robotic. She glanced up at the impossibly tall, muscular, dark-haired man beside her. "This is Gendry."

"Hi, Gendry," Sansa smiled, fighting through the heavy discomfort that had settled in the air between them, thick and suffocating. "I've heard a lot about you." Not from Arya; from their mother. She walked forward to offer Gendry a polite handshake. Gendry shook her hand with an awkward, yet surprisingly charming, smile.

"Likewise. It's nice to meet you," Gendry nodded, stepping back to Arya's side. Arya looked almost comically small next to him, but it was clear they were a tight unit. Sansa had no idea what Gendry might have been told about her; it wasn't something she wanted to think about. Surely, he wouldn't have heard anything good.

"Mum says you two are getting an apartment together?" Sansa asked, keeping her tone light, her smile relaxed and pleasant.

"Yeah," Gendry answered, putting an arm around Arya's shoulders. "In Mole's Town, moving in in January. We'd hoped to get the paperwork all sorted so we could move in before Christmas, but," he shrugged and clicked his tongue against his teeth. "But we're glad to be here with everyone. Aren't we?" He then shot Arya a pointed look, nudging her with the arm draped around her.

Arya glared up at Gendry for a second, her lips twitching, before she ducked her head and elbowed him in the ribs. Sansa found herself smiling, despite the awkwardness; of course, this would be how Arya shows her partner affection.

"Yeah," Arya mumbled. "We're glad to be here with everyone."

At that moment, Jon emerged from the living room. Sansa took a few steps back, watching as Jon's face split into a wide grin as he hugged Arya, then Gendry. Arya was also now grinning, seeming to light up from within, whereas before she'd seemed almost like a stone statue from a crypt.

Jon and Arya had always been close, best friends - maybe even more so than Jon and Robb. Sansa had never fit in with their dynamic. She hadn't belonged then, and she certainly didn't now. She swallowed thickly and slipped away to the kitchen, deciding to help her mum serve up dinner.

Dinner passed by surprisingly smoothly. Catelyn had made a traditional beef stew, with fresh homemade bread. They paired it with the Dornish Red Sansa had bought her. Sansa was a little suspicious when she realised she'd been placed next to Jon at the large dining table.

She tried very hard to ignore how she blushed like a teenager whenever his knee, arm or thigh brushed against hers. She also tried to ignore how flustered she felt whenever her eyes met his, or whenever he leaned in close to reach over for some more bread. She tried to ignore how good he smelled. Gods, what was wrong with her?

The dining table was loud and cheery with conversation, with baby Minnie taking turns in people's arms around the table. Sansa found herself smiling and laughing more than she'd expected. She wasn't used to so much noise, to so many people - not anymore. She lived completely alone in her apartment in the Vale. But it was nice. It was nice to feel home, even if it was only for a little while. They had chocolate cake with cream for dessert, and Sansa couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so full.

She helped her mum clean up after, and when they were done, Catelyn grabbed a fresh bottle of wine and declared it was time for family game night in the living room. Sansa lingered in the kitchen, hoping and waiting.

Soon enough, Arya came into the kitchen to get a refill of white wine; she didn't seem to be keen on the red. The sisters were finally alone.

"Arya," Sansa said hesitantly. She thought, for a second, about reaching out to touch Arya's arm, but then thought better on it, letting her hand drop back to her side. "Can we talk?"

Arya studied her for a minute, silent and assessing. Her expression still gave absolutely nothing away, even after several glasses of wine.

"Okay," Arya nodded once. "Let's go outside."

Sansa nodded back, pouring herself a fresh glass of the red, before following Arya to grab their coats from the rack in the hallway. Then she trailed after her sister, out to the back porch.

It was still freezing out, with snow falling and a waning crescent moon in the sky. The trellis and trees out back, like the front of the house, were covered in colourful string lights.

Arya sifted through her pockets, avoiding Sansa's eyes. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered Sansa one. Sansa hesitated before taking it, then let Arya help her light it. She tried not to cough as she breathed the smoke in. Arya took a long drag, then blew a stream of smoke out into the cold, night air.

"You wanted to talk," Arya murmured, after they'd been stood in silence for a long couple of minutes. She turned to look up at Sansa, unflinching and unblinking. Sansa tried to swallow around the sudden dryness in her throat. "So talk."