22 Chapter 21: Wolf sisters

The last few days has been quite hectic for Daeron. The Northmen that fought under his banner were quite tired and the momentary respite that they gained by taking Winterfell brought some relief to the troops. He doubted that the men would stay cohere if there wasn't a speedy end of the fighting. The forced marches that he had pressed upon the men had robbed them of their energy. If it wasn't for the presence of sturdy Free Folk, a steady supply of food and the presence of a dragon he would have lost a lot of men in taking Winterfell.

This was why he was happy to give the men the break they needed before the next campaign begins. Some were suffering from injuries and sickness. Thankfully the number of sick was quite low as he insisted on using boiled water for drinking and cleaning wounds. On the forced marches, it was hard to keep boiled water as the primary source of water because of delays in collecting firewood and the time it would take to boil the water. Nonetheless, the men had managed as best as they could and now that the men were settled inside the walls of Winterfell his reforms could be implemented without fear of any tactical delays.

But winter was settling in and his task of keeping his men healthy and strong for the wars to come was further complicated by the sorry state of Winterfell. More than half the population has been gutted by the invasion of Ironborn and Bolton's attack. At the very least the Boltons had made an effort to rebuild Winterfell after the bastards took it in the wake of the Red Wedding.

He knew that no amount of effort was going to restore the castle in its entirety before the Great War. The only good news is that the walls surrounding the castle remained as good as always which was not much in his opinion. The castle walls were littered with broken towers, slippery slopes and broken stones. But some of those problems could be dealt with in time.

The next bit of problem was the grain stock in the castle. The entire stock in Winterfell was depleted and the Boltons had survived to this day by shipments from nearby villages and castles. Most of those supplies were exhausted and right now Winterfell depended on the supplies he brought with his army. Fresh shipments will have to arrive from White Harbour but until then he established strict rationing. He didn't want people to die of starvation under his watch but with the roads being blocked by snow it is going to take a while before fresh supplies reach the castle.

This lack of proper grain stocks is the reason why he refused to hold a victory feast. The Northern lords were understandably disgruntled but they settled down once he made it known that he will hold a feast as soon as Sansa returned. This event would also coincide with the sentencing of Ramsay Snow. The bastard of Roose Bolton was for the moment enjoying the dungeons of Winterfell. It was also hoped that fresh shipments would arrive with Sansa from White Harbour.

The Manderlys, Glovers and Cerwyns were all demanding Ramsay's head. For the time being, he managed to stall them as he had given his word to Sansa to let her watch her tormentor's demise. He hoped Sansa would reach Winterfell as soon as possible.

Postponing the sentencing also had some repercussions. For one he could not leave the castle and ask for the aid of the Mountain Clans or the Skagosi. In the end, he decided to send a raven to Karhold asking them to send a representative to Skagos in his name. While he was loath to trust the Karstarks he believed that it was better to mend bridges.

This was an olive branch he was extending and if Harrion Karstark doesn't use this opportunity to return to the fold there will be consequences. He would see to it that Alys Karstark inherit Karhold as he was not too keen on leaving an enemy with a castle and strong army in the North.

Now, the Mountain Clans on the other hand required a personal touch. He was hoping to make contact with them personally as their help will be invaluable in securing peace in the North. Not to mention their cooperation would be of paramount importance in facing the enemy that was sure to come from beyond the Wall.

He would have also liked to send a force of men to take Dreadfort but that was also put on hold for the time being. He was hoping the garrison would surrender but he was not holding out much hope. He didn't have much time to think these things through as he was distracted by events far closer to his person.

Most of Daeron's time was thus spent on holding trials, handing out punishments, and issuing some pardons for the previous members of the Bolton army. He didn't bother with a trial for the rag-tag group of friends and commanders of Ramsey Snow and Roose Bolton. He straight up decapitated them or hung them as per their choice of course.

He was more than happy to conscript the rest of the regular soldiers and some pardoned houses like Lake, Mollen, Moss and Wells into his new army. They were happy to have their lives spared and fed with proper food seeing as most of them had little choice. The silent threat of a fully grown dragon may also have helped in smoothing over any dissent among the ranks of the Bolton Army. Although, he was finding it increasingly expensive to feed Rhaegal.

A horn from the south gate pulled him out of his musings. He walked out of his room to a nearby balcony overlooking the southern gate of the castle. He squinted his eyes and he could make out some people in the distance.

"Your grace. The banners of House Tallhart and Stout has been spotted on the Kingsroad." A guard shouted from below.

"I see. Open the gates." He nodded absently and the guard went back to the south gate.

House Tallhart was ordered to hold Castle Cerwyn before the battle of Winterfell. But now that Winterfell returned to the Starks their arrival was expected.

But Daeron had almost forgotten about House Stout. With most of his time spent on reconstruction, holding trials and other day to day matters he had little to no time on his hands nowadays. Even the free time he enjoyed was sometimes spent with his energetic cousin Rickon. He didn't have the heart to discourage Rickon who had lost so much in a few years. He entertained Rickon with a few stories from the Wall and stories about dragons.

As he was about to find Maester Wolken the sound of rapid footsteps and rattling of chains gave him pause. A moment later he was joined by the Maester on the balcony.

"I was just about to seek you out Maester Wolken." said Daeron as he pointed at the group of men in the distance. "As you can see we are about to have some guests. Please inform the other lords of this development."

"About that your grace. I just received two ravens, one from the Citadel and the other from Lord Ryswell."

"From the Citadel?" he asked curious to know why would the Maester deemed it necessary to inform him of a raven from the Citadel.

"Yes your grace. One from a Samwell Tarly. I am sorry to say I broke the seal and read the contents of the letter. I thought the raven was addressed to me." Wolken explained with an apologetic bow.

"No matter Maester. Although, I am curious to know how Sam knew to address a raven for me to Winterfell?"

Perhaps his distrust of Wolken was openly expressed because the Maester rushed to defend himself.

"Your grace. I did not send any ravens to the Citadel informing them of the events in the North as per your orders."

"Hmm… We will see whether that's true or not soon Maester." said Daeron as he glared at the Maester making the old man squirm uneasily. "Give me the message from Lord Ryswell. I am curious to know his response to my demands."

Half an hour later Daeron was sitting at the centre of the high table between Rickon and Maester Wolken in the great hall of Winterfell. Before him sat the lords of the North and the Free Folk that swore allegiance to him.

While sitting here at the high table he couldn't help but remember a different time when he was sitting far away on the corner of this hall quietly having his dinner with the servants. Catelyn Tully had never let an opportunity pass to instil his place which was below the place of her children. It was a petty way to treat a child in his opinion and he felt a twinge of an age-old pain at his exclusion from being a part of the family.

It was truly confusing to have a set of memories and emotions that are almost alien to him popping up on rare occasions. While largely he managed to adapt to some memories within the body of Jon Snow he still finds it odd that he would be caught off guard by a random emotion or memory that would pop up.

So while he sat at the high table he felt a twinge of pain for his 'mistreatment' in the past and at the same time, he felt satisfaction in sitting at the high table. Setting the emotional drama going inside his mind aside he concentrated on the two men and one woman standing before him at the centre of the hall.

"Lords Harwood Stout and Ronnel Stout. I see that you have brought a considerable number of men to Winterfell." said Daeron giving them an opportunity to explain themselves all the while he ignored the woman standing beside them.

"Your grace, we took control of the army mustering in Barrowlands. Lady Barbrey had planned to attack Winterfell with her Ryswell brethren. She forgot that there are good people in Barrowlands who remember their oaths to House Stark and House Stout decided to pull down the traitors who betrayed the North at the Twins." declared Harwood Stout boldly before the assembled lords.

The Northern lords erupted with demands of taking the head of Barbrey Dustin.

"My lords!" he shouted over the voices clamouring for punishment and retribution to bring back order into the hall. After managing to bring the hall to some form of decorum he turned his gaze on the father-son duo of House Stout.

"I ask on behalf of my cousin Rickon of House Stark Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Will you bend the knee and swear fealty to the Starks of Winterfell? Will you uphold the laws set by your King and protect the King's peace in your lands?"

Lord Harwood Stout and Ronnel Stout knelt before Daeron.

"As the Old Gods of the Forest as witness House Stout swears our allegiance to House Stark. In war and peace, we shall stand with the Starks of Winterfell and do so swear to uphold the peace of King Daeron Targaryen."

"Then rise my lord. Stand and take your place among our brothers and sisters of the North." said Daeron indicating to their seats beside the other lords of the North.

While he knew the Stouts were not as loyal as they pretend to be to his cause he would overlook that little detail. While they didn't fight for him in the field it should be noted that they didn't stand against him either. Besides, there are ways to cultivate loyalty and with a long campaign in the South before him, he could bring the Stouts into the fold.

"Your grace with House Ryswell turned traitor and House Dustin extinct who will take the lordship of Barrowlands?"

It was Lord Cerwyn who raised the issue he would have kissed the guy for smoothly bringing that matter up before the assembled lords. He was sure the Stouts would have accosted him privately to set themselves up as the lord of Barrow Hall. He could deny them the lordship but needlessly creating enemies at this juncture would be foolish. With the matter of Barrow Hall's lordship in the open, he could leverage some concessions from the Stouts far more easily and smoothly in exchange for his support.

Keeping this in mind he decided to be as vague as possible but at the same time presenting himself as open to discussing this matter in great detail in the future.

"The lordship of Barrowlands is in the purview of the Lord of Winterfell. Seeing as my cousin is yet to reach his majority I shall discuss the matter with Lady Sansa and the lords of the North. It would be better for all of us to discuss and reach a consensus in this matter." He took note that the Stouts were not so happy about what he said. Maybe they must have hoped to make the demand for Barrowlands after this meeting. "But fear not my lords. We will certainly have this discussion at a later date." said Daeron nodding at Lord Cley Cerwyn who sat down satisfied by the answer.

"Now we can focus our attention on Lady Barbrey." He commented directing the attention of the lords to the former lady of Barrowton. "What shall we do with you, Lady Dustin?"

"She must face justice for betraying the Starks and the North." demanded Cley Cerwyn.

"Aye."

"Off with her head."

"Justice for the North."

Many among the Northern lords joined in clamouring for Barbrey Dustin's death.

"Many of us lost our loved ones at the Twins because of her and her traitorous father. The Boltons would not have dared to commit treason without supporters in the North and this bitch gave them that support. I say off with her head and the rest of the Ryswell brood." said Lord Glover earning several approving thumping on the tables in the hall.

While Daeron was all for taking revenge and cleaning up the traitors he was a little squeamish on taking his ire out on women especially in a backward place like Westeros. Women hardly had any freedom here and a lot of them were treated as broodmares. Barbrey Dustin had little choice to marry into House Dustin and she had little choice in her husband's decision to go to war from which he never returned.

A woman without a child to carry the legacy of her husband had little value in the present society. He could see why Ned Stark allowed the woman to hold onto power. He didn't agree with Ned Stark's decision but he could understand the reasoning behind his late uncle's decision.

Taking all of this into account he can't in good conscience sentence the woman to her death. At the same time, he could not allow her to be set free and shield her from any punishment. A lot of people died as a result of her support for the Boltons. Many of the relatives and daughters of the Northern lords fell at the Twins not to mention the thousands of soldiers that were lost that day. The blame of that event will fall upon all those who stood with the Lannisters, Boltons and Freys.

"There is no doubt that you colluded with the Boltons to oust the Starks from Winterfell Lady Dustin. There is no doubt about the guilt of House Ryswell in this matter as well. When I started my campaign to oust the Boltons I already knew who my enemies were. So keep in mind that you will not be changing my mind about your or your family's guilt. Nonetheless, I give you this opportunity to speak before the lords of the North. Use this time wisely." He offered and leaned back in his seat as the hall descended into silence.

All eyes were now trained on the former lady of Barrowton. Once the lady of Barrowton sported haughty and sneering face to those whom she considered her lesser or her enemies. But now the woman was sporting a defeated and haunted look.

Daeron assumed Lady Dustin never expected that war could destroy her own family. Did she think that only her enemies will feel the violence of war? Did she make herself believe that death would not come for her or her extended family in the Rills? Was she too arrogant to assume that all her plans would pan out without any resistance?

If she did then he was sure she was regretting that now. Death came to the highest of kings and beggars all the same. In war, death would be a constant companion. Looking at Lady Dustin he was reminded of this simple fact. Having a dragon on his side or the powers of warging was not going to protect him from death. He realised that there was more work to be done and he was adamant to not being in a position similar to Barbrey Dustin.

"I ask that you show mercy to my kin your grace." said Barbrey Dustin sinking into her knees.

"Well, this is a surprise." Quite a huge one in fact and Daeron took some time to properly construct a response. "From my brief conversation with my cousin Sansa I expected you to be more asserting Lady Dustin. I expected a few insults at the very least." said Daeron staring coolly into the eyes of Barbrey Dustin. He shifted his attention to Harwood Stout who took to his feet.

"Lady Dustin has been threatening us throughout the journey with her father's army your grace. But all that bite and arrogance went away when she saw your dragon. No army could withstand a dragon and your ancestors have proven that in the past."

"I see." Thank you for that compliment Lord Stout but you are not going to get Barrowton without some concessions. "Thank you for the insight, Lord Stout. Although, I would remind Lady Dustin that the loyal men of the North is all I need to put an end to the Ryswell armies." said Daeron and received a roar of approval from the Northern lords.

As the lords settled down in their seats he once again trained his attention on the woman standing on her knees.

"It seems Lord Ryswell is well aware of that small fact. He seems to have realised that defying Winterfell will have dire consequences."

Daeron fished out a scroll of parchment and waved it around gaining the attention of the bickering lords.

"A raven from Lord Ryswell announcing his surrender." declared Daeron. He took note that not all the lords were happy with the quick surrender. He could understand their disgruntlement but this was good news.

"The terms of surrender on the other hand will not be lenient. I won't suffer a Ryswell in any position of power in Westeros. They conspired to wipe out House Stark. My uncle and cousin made the mistake of trusting them but I won't make that same mistake. No male heir of House Ryswell will be allowed to hold any lands in Westeros. I mean to sentence them to take the Black. What say the lords of the North?"

"Aye." Lord Glover was the first to throw in his support who seemed to be happy with the fate of the Ryswells.

In part, his decision was influenced by the politics of the North. It was important to take harsh punishments against the traitorous houses of the North. At the same time, he wanted to retain some semblance of propriety in dealing with his enemies. In the last few days of his stay in Winterfell, he has been going over old records of Stark Kings that took actions against traitorous lords. The norm was killing off male heirs of traitorous houses and marrying off their women to loyal lords. He was following the same pattern and he hoped he was making the correct decision.

"Your grace, what about the women and children of House Ryswell?" asked Lord Tallhart

The Tallharts were to be kept an eye on. They were not happy with his decision to deny their claim on Hornwood. At the same time, it is important to keep them in the fold because of their proximity to Winterfell. In the coming days, it will be important to keep the North strong and united. To that end, it was imperative that he throw a bone to the Tallharts.

"Women of House Ryswell will not be harmed and they may continue to stay in the keep. An heir will be selected from the Ryswell women and a trusted Northerner may take her as his wife creating a new house. I believe this is how Stark kings of old dealt with traitorous houses and I find no reason to break this tradition."

Daeron's proposal was well received by the Lords of the North to his relief. He was still taking some blind shots in the dark to see whether his decision was going to cause discontent among the lords.

"With that said I believe Lady Dustin must be escorted to a cell pending a response from the rest of her family." said Daeron. He nodded to the guards lurking at the far end of the hall. He watched dispassionately as the woman was escorted out of the hall with many lords hurling insults and slurs at the woman.

"With that settled, I believe there are two more issues we must discuss before we adjourn this court." seeing that he had the attention of the hall he continued. "I plan to personally seek out the Mountain Clans. Their expertise and involvement will be crucial in the days ahead as we prepare to face the forces of darkness. At the same time, I need the Dreadfort under our control. I can't do both and thus I seek your aid."

"I would be honoured to lead a campaign against the Dreadfort garrison your grace." offered Cley Cerwyn.

The last male Cerwyn has been itching for a major fight because of the delay in Ramsay's punishment. Daeron knew this but he had made a promise to Sansa that he would let her see Ramsay punished. He could allow Lord Cerwyn to take care of the Dreadfort but he didn't want to depend on someone that is emotionally compromised. Only one solution came to his mind in this situation and it should potentially solve another problem.

"Lord Tallhart has been eager to take his pound of flesh from the Boltons. I believe Lord Cerwyn and Lord Tallhart could aid each other and bring the Dreadfort garrison to heel." Proposed Daeron and he noted that the two lords seem to be fine with his suggestion.

"We would be happy to do so your grace." said Lord Tallhart with Lord Cerwyn nodding in agreement.

"In that case, I leave the two of you to pass sentence on the Dreadfort garrison and of course share the spoils of war amongst yourself. All I ask is that you make sure the Smallfolk remain unharmed and the safe return of Beth Cassel who remains a prisoner in Dreadfort." ordered Daeron as he thought of the last Cassel in the North.

The war has seen many families torn asunder. The Cassels were one such family and he was honour bound to do all he could to save Beth Cassel. If the garrison of Dreadfort refused to surrender he intends to personally intervene and retrieve Beth Cassel at any cost. That would be the least he could do for Jory and Rodrik Cassel.

"If there is nothing else to discuss I declare this gathering to be dismissed."

Daeron stood up as did the other lords signalling the end to this meeting. Before he could leave the hall he took note that Lord Reed silently signalled for an audience and he found no reason to deny the man.

A few minutes later Daeron along with Howland Reed was standing near the training ground where Rickon was practising archery. As per his orders, his cousin was having his martial training under Captain Veimar Poole the cousin of late Vayon Poole. Apparently, Veimar Poole managed to escape the Red Wedding and met up with Lord Reed in Greywater Watch. As the last remaining Poole and for a lack of someone familiar with Winterfell Daeron had assigned the man in charge of Winterfell's garrison.

He took in the sight of other children training in the yard under the guidance of grown men. He decided that it would be better to train the children of Smallfolk regardless of gender to hold their own in a fight. Mostly he was keen on training them with a knife or archery. It was hardly a popular move but he did give the exception for those who were interested in a useful trade. There was hardly any need for farmers as the snow had set in on the land. The smiths, carpenters, masons, tanners and other traders were given the exemption.

One of the perks of being a dragon rider is that no one had the guts to openly oppose his orders. Nonetheless, a part of him hated himself for training children for war. But he had no choice as the enemy lurking in the shadows required every living being to take up arms. Besides, he felt that it would be counterproductive if he did not provide the tools for people to defend themselves when the true war for their survival would start.

"You are doing the right thing, your grace. We will need as many good hands to face what is coming from beyond the Wall." said Howland Reed

"I know. I just hope we will be able to turn the tide in the battle for dawn. But we need the resources of the South to make our stand."

"Then you will have to hurry your grace. I received a rider from Greywater Watch today. The Vale army has finished crossing into the North. It will be only a matter of time before they learn of your existence. When they do the rest of Westeros will also learn and the element of surprise will be lost." warned Howland Reed causing Daeron to frown unhappily.

He had thought there would be more time to properly mount a response to the Vale army. The only silver lining in this situation was that the knights of the Vale will get delayed because of the snow. They were not experienced in moving in heavy snow and that gave him a small window of time to work out a plan.

"I don't want the Vale army to move an inch out of the Neck. I was hoping to use them to strike at the Freys and take the Crossing. I need the Crossing to liberate western Riverlands but at the same time I need the Mountain Clans to join us." Daeron frowned as he thought about the new dilemma. He can't be at two places at once. He will have to make a choice and that would determine the outcome of future wars.

"Your grace may I suggest that you allow Lord Rickon to deal with the Mountain Clans."

Howland Reed's suggestion caught Daeron by surprise.

"Rickon is just a child!"

"A child that survived many hardships, your grace." Howland agreed. "If he is to be the lord of Winterfell you have to let him lead."

"He is still a child. He shouldn't be dealing with all this." Daeron shook his head even as an internal war of opinions raged in his mind.

He wanted Rickon to stay safe and in Winterfell he was sure Rickon would be relatively safe. Sending his young cousin on a dangerous journey to the Mountains of the far North is not exactly a definition of safety. The lands surrounding Winterfell is ripe with bandits and traitors. Anything could happen in these trying times and he didn't want Rickon to be exposed to any more danger.

"Lord Rickon won't be alone your grace. Other lords will be with him and we can ensure the best of the North will be with the little lord. The Starks are held in high regard by the Mountain Clans. Despite your relation to the Starks, you are in truth a Targaryen. The Mountain Clans won't lend their support to anyone other than a Stark."

"I am as much a Stark as my cousins my lord. I do have the powers of a warg that shows my First Men lineage." said Daeron with a furious look directing at Howland Reed.

"I don't disagree but you are not the Lord of Winterfell nor are you the heir of Winterfell. The Mountain Clans take their oaths very seriously. In all likelihood what would happen will be that they would drag their feet in meeting with you or even cooperating with you especially with the Wildlings on your side. They have an enmity with the Wildlings and the Clans are far more stubborn than the Northern Lords." Said Howland Reed before letting out a sigh. "Let Lord Rickon be the one to ask for their allegiance. They will honour their oaths and cooperate more easily if a Stark approaches them."

Daeron gritted his teeth in frustration while staring at his cousin who was training in the yard. He did not like the idea of sending Rickon away but admitted that it would speed up his plans for the South. There was also the nagging thought that Rickon should gain some experience instead of being coddled. Rock on was bound to be the Lord of Winterfell and there would come a time when he would not be able to look out for his cousin.

Was this how his parents felt when he decided to move out of the house and live on his own?

"I shall think about this matter Lord Reed." He found himself say in the end.

Howland Reed bowed and took his leave while Daeron watched his young cousin struggle to fire an arrow. With the Citadel aware of his existence he thought it likely that the south will be preparing for his arrival. He could not hope that the Citadel would remain neutral. He would plan under the assumption that the Citadel is hostile to his interests. That way he will be less likely to be surprised and keep a keen eye on the events in the South.

To that effect, he decided to seek out the Godswood of Winterfell. Out of all the places in Winterfell, this was the only place the Boltons didn't disturb.

He found the Heart Tree in quick order and kelt before the tree facing the carved face. As soon as he touched the bark of the tree he was pulled into the far-reaching network of the Weirwood trees of Westeros. For a time he struggled to control the stream of sounds and visions that assaulted his mind but he managed to focus his attention. What he found shocked him and made him realize the need for drastic changes in his plans.

******

The feeling of dread and joy in a mix ought to confuse anyone. Unfortunately, that is exactly what she was feeling as she rode on horseback to her home.

There was a time in her life Sansa would have yearned to be in Winterfell. Even if it was just a few years back she felt as if it was a lifetime ago. She was not the same Sansa anymore. Her life so far had changed beyond her wildest imaginations.

Winterfell now represented as a monument of joy and misery for her. It's a place where she had many wonderful memories of her family. It also became the place of her torture and rape. It remained a place where she remained helpless and friendless as a monster tortured and desecrated her body and spirit. It also remained the place where she was remade into what she was now.

All of that was behind her in the past. Now, it was going to be the place she would get her justice…no…vengeance.

Did it matter whether she called it vengeance or justice? What she wanted is quite clear. She wanted all her enemies to be destroyed. She wanted their legacies to be burned to ashes. She wanted their names to disappear and their deeds to be irrelevant in history. She wanted songs about them to disappear. She wanted the world to forget that these people ever even existed. She wanted those who benefited from her family's fall to kneel before her. She wanted them to feel powerless just as she felt all these years.

"My lady, riders up ahead." said Podrick Payne

For a moment Sansa felt fear but she dismissed it promptly. Contrary to her initial thought the riders were not bandits rather Stark bannermen. The grey direwolf banners fluttering in the wind in the arms of the riders was proof enough.

Nonetheless, Lady Brienne moved forward shielding Sansa from the approaching riders. It turned out their vigilance was misplaced as the riders were just patrols sent from Winterfell. Apparently, they were sent by her confusing to keep the roads clean of bandits and escort them to Winterfell. Not that she needed any escort as she was already escorted by a small army.

"Run along now Little Petyr. Run to the castle."

She heard a voice bellow out from her side and she watched as a thin frail-looking man run in the general direction of Winterfell. She felt a wave of satisfaction and glee at the sorry state of Petyr Baelish. The most dangerous man who betrayed her and her family was now reduced to a fool in White Harbour. She had enjoyed the torment Baelish suffered at the hands of Sigorn. It didn't come close to what she suffered and she had little compassion left in her heart to feel sorry for Baelish.

Speaking of Sigorn she felt the eyes of the leader of Thenns trained on her person. She flashed him a small smile and the man was now grinning from ear to ear. It was obvious to her that Sigorn was trying to impress her with his stunts. She didn't discourage him as she found it easy to use him because of his feelings for her.

She learned her lesson from all that happened to her. Power is what distinguished people from one another and she was adamant that she would never be powerless again. Having the affections of Sigorn who controlled a sizeable number of Wildlings would certainly come useful in the future.

Besides, it felt good to be desired by other men. After her ordeal with Ramsay, she had struggled with self-worth and to an extent, she felt Sigorn's presence helped her overcome such dark thoughts. The fact that he tried so hard to impress her was amusing and self-assured her that she was good. And thus she enjoyed every moment of civilisation Petyr Baelish endured in her presence.

She would have slit the bastard's throat and be done with it but Daeron has asked for her patience. For the time being, keeping Baelish alive has paid off in a good way.

The wagons of food gold, silver and weapons that were following her was a result of keeping Baelish alive. All these resources would keep the North safe. In a way, what punishment could be higher than this for Baelish? The man had stolen, murdered, betrayed and cheated his way to consolidate his wealth. Now, that wealth will be used to restore order to the chaos he strived for. It was poetic justice but she would not rest easy until Baelish's, Ramsay's, Walder Frey's and Cersei's head rested on a spike.

She shook off her thoughts as she continued her journey to her home. Her eyes found her other companion Alys Karstark. Of all the other Northern house she knew that House Karstark remained numerically superior. At least they did before Daeron attacked Karhold. Nonetheless, the Karstarks have a strong cavalry and Alys would be the key to securing the support of Harrion Karstark.

As she thought of ways to carefully pull the Karstarks into the fold along her journey she came upon the sight of Winterfell surrounded by snow. There was a gentle tug in her heart as she took in the sight of her home with direwolf banners flying proudly alongside Daeron's banner.

"You are home my lady." said Lady Brienne gently.

"I am home." She murmured almost afraid that this was all a dream. She turned to her trusted protector, a true knight if not in title but in her deeds. "I thank you Lady Brienne for saving me. Without you, I could not have escaped. I am sure, my mother's soul will rest easy knowing that you have fulfilled the oath you gave to her."

"Thank you, my lady. Although, I am afraid I was not able to keep my oath to Lady Catelyn in its entirety. I failed to bring Lady Arya to safety." said Brienne looking down in disappointment.

"Don't worry Lady Brienne. Knowing Arya she will find her way back home, wherever she might be."

Sansa turned her attention back to the castle and she hoped Arya was safe. She hoped her little sister would return home. There was so much she had to say to her sister. There was so much to apologize and be grateful for. She would wait at Winterfell for Arya to return. She could feel it in her heart that this would happen. For now, she would settle for her cousin and little brother. But soon the rest of her family will join her.

*******

A long time ago darkness was her enemy. She was a girl who enjoyed riding horses, firing arrows and watching swordplay. Hardly any of this could be enjoyed at night hence daylight became her friend and darkness became her enemy. But the girl that loved the day and decried the night was Arya Stark.

A girl is no one, she thought.

A sort of tranquillity settled into her mind at the thought. It galled her to lie to herself. She knew she could not become no one. She is Arya Stark of Winterfell but in the House of Black and White, she has to be no one. It was the only way she could safely stay inside the order of Facelessmen. Her colleagues are well-trained assassins and they could read her heartbeat just as she was reading theirs.

Sacrificing one's identity makes one detached from the bonds of life. The one who is free in mind will have a free body. One who has a free body can become one with the forces of nature.

This was a lesson she learned from her training. Of all the sensory organs in a human body, the eyes were the most dangerous. Eyes have the ability to dull the other senses making their inputs irreverent. So the first thing a Facelessman needs to learn is to see the world without the eyes. A step she passed which is why she slightly pulled her head back an inch and caught the offending knife by its blade just before it could spear into her head.

"The girl is sharp. Though I wonder whether the girl is ready to serve the Many-faced-god."

The sound came from the direction the knife was thrown but the slight rustle in the wind and her keen sense of hearing told her another story.

Arya stepped back from her position into a shadow of a pillar and threw the knife forward with a slight tilt to the blade. She could hear the knife spin and traced a curve landing behind a pillar a few paces from her position. The knife didn't make a sound and that let her know that her aim was true.

"A girl is ready." She said as she stepped out of the shadow and stood her ground facing Jaqen H'ghar.

"Are you?" the man with the face of Jaqen H'ghar asked sceptically.

Arya merely kept her silence and held a neutral stare. She learned early on that showing any reaction was a weakness. And weakness in the House of Black and White means death.

"On the Pale Harbour, a body floated by several weeks ago. The body was hardly recognisable but it is unmistakably the body of a Westerosi." Jaqen H'ghar was now looking at her with a piercing stare. "Any thoughts?"

"Valar Morghulis." said Arya neutrally. There was hardly any need for any other explanation. All men must die and she would make sure all Lannisters, Freys and anyone that support them shall die.

"Valar Dohaeris." Said Jaqen H'ghar with a small nod before he indicted Arya to follow him.

She followed Jaqen H'ghar quietly by his side. The old Arya might have felt fear but not the new Arya. Through the trials, she went through and months of labour she turned fear into her ally. The days where fear ruled her fate was now over. She wielded fear as one of her tools and if one thing she appreciated learned from the Facelessmen was the ability to accept death. She no longer feared dying and without that fear her mind was free.

The chilly dark hallways she passed were familiar to her. The hallway led to the secret chamber of the temple where the faces were kept in storage. Hundreds of thousands of faces were in the chamber and Arya looked on curiously Jaqen H'ghar paused before the face of a comely girl.

"A servant of shipbuilder Sellvero Dohaeys. The girl was brought from Volantis and the shipbuilder kept her as a servant and bed slave. She asked for the gift from the Many-faced-God and the God of Death does not forgive slavery." said Jaqen H'ghar

Arya nodded her head in understanding. There was not much left to be said in the matter. Her next target's name is Sellvero Dohaeys who is a shipbuilder. Most likely her target could be found near the Purple Harbour where most of the shipbuilders have manors.

"Your new name is Anya." said Jaqen H'ghar offering her the face of the girl.

Arya accepted the face and stepped into the darkness.

It took her a while but she found her target's mansion. As she was wearing the face of Anya she was easily able to step into the mansion. There were a few guards but they gave her no mind. However, it was difficult for her to navigate the mansion and behave properly. Usually, she would study the person whom she would be posing as but she knew almost nothing about Anya.

With her doubts on how to proceed with the mission, she decided to map out the mansion. On her wanderings, she found a few servants and followed them all the way to the kitchen.

"Oh, there you are Anya. Where were you silly girl?" an old grey-haired lady scolded her.

Before Arya could respond another voice piped in. "Never mind that. Master Sellvero has a guest in his study. Bring them refreshments."

A tray full of cakes, apples, grapes and wine was handed over which Arya accepted without any complaint. This just made her job much easier.

She had no idea where the study was so she went out with the tray in search of it. On the way, she was tempted to poison the wine but it would also kill the guest. So she decided to observe her target and if a moment arises she could get away with it she would slip a slow-acting poison into her target's cup. There were many rooms in the mansion but she finally managed to find the study.

The guard standing outside the study held out the door for her to enter and she let herself in. On the far end of the room behind a large wooden desk sat her target. The guest on the other hand looked somewhat familiar.

She placed the tray on the table and began serving the dishes to her target and the guest. She took a closer look at the guest and noticed a distinctive Northern look. The man was bulky, had a beard and he also had his hair in a distinctive Northern style.

"So what can I do for your house Ser Winfred Manderly?" asked Sellvero

Though Arya was surprised to hear the name of a Northern house she continued to serve the refreshments as if she was deaf to the conversation.

"I am here on behalf of House Manderly and House Stark. Thirty war galleys are what we need and it has to be delivered within a month." said Ser Winfred

Now Arya was truly surprised. Why would the Manderlys buy ships on behalf of her House? Was the North rallying around a Stark? Could it be that the Northern houses were rebelling for her sister? Could her brothers have somehow survived? Could it be that Jon left the Night's Watch to take up arms against the Boltons?

There were so many questions in her mind and unfortunately she had no proper answer. She hardly knew what was going I in the North after the Red Wedding. She knew Joffrey is dead and her sister escaped King's Landing somehow. She had learned that from the plays on the streets of Braavos.

"This is a steep order Ser Winfred. It will be costly and you will need to bring your crew to Braavos. I am afraid we won't be delivering ships to White Harbour in such large numbers." said Sellvero taking a sip from the wine glass. Arya hastily refilled the chalice with more wine.

"Truly! In our past dealings, you have delivered ships to our shores. What changed?" asked Ser Winfred curiously.

"You must have not heard but Daenerys Targaryen has taken over Volantis. Her armies, fleets and her dragons now sit on the lands of the First Daughter. As a result, Braavos is on high alert."

"Is Braavos going to war with the Targaryen Queen?" asked Ser Winfred with obvious interest.

"No. But the Sealord is waiting to see what her intentions are. We are aware that Volantis attacked Mereen and she retaliated against the slavers. But if she is on a string of conquest in Essos we will be forced to protect our interests."

"This is troubling news. I will have to make some arrangements and inform lord Wyman of this new development." said Ser Winfred with a frown.

"Indeed my friend. Dark times are ahead of us. Now, what is this about House Stark? I thought all of them died."

"Not all the Starks are dead. Lord Eddard's bastard son Jon Snow rode out from the Wall with an army and has been destroying the allies of Boltons in battle after battle. The last I heard of the war the Starks control most of the North except for Winterfell, Dreadfort, Barrowlands and the Rills.

"Truly!"

"Yes. It seems the lad is a gifted battle commander like his brother. The Umbers and Karstarks were the first to fall to Snow."

"I thought you Westerosi didn't trust children born out of wedlock?"

"The only surviving trueborn son of Lord Eddard is a captive of the Boltons. Knowing the Boltons as I do I don't think the young lad will survive. Which leaves Jon Snow as the last male descendant of House Stark."

Arya kept an ear out to the rest of the conversation while she covertly slipped a few drops of poison into her target's wine glass. The information that she gleaned from the conversation overhauled all her plans. She had planned to stay in Braavos and learn more from the Facelessmen before she would turn her skills on her enemies. But hearing about Jon made her hope once again.

She cast one last look at her target to make sure he drank the poisoned wine. When he Frank from the cup she discreetly stepped out of the study. The poison should kick in before sunset and it would induce a heart attack.

Without getting noticed by anyone she slipped out of the manor into an alley where she switched her face. With the face of Arya Stark, she once again graced the streets. Close to the port, she found a rowboat and she commandeered the boat without anyone noticing. She slowly rowed the boat taking in the beauty of the setting sun.

Suddenly she was no longer looking at the sun but in a place surrounded by trees and fog. She ran among the trees but came to a stop when a camp came across her sight. She moved forward carefully until she could get a better view. She saw the banners hanging in the camp and they all held the golden lion.

Lannisters, she thought with a snarl.

The overwhelming urge to kill flooded her mind and she felt herself move around the camp memorising each corner. On her scouting, she came across a Lannister soldier far away from the main camp. She felt the excitement of a hunter finding the prey. The next this she knew she was jumping on the soldier and caught his neck in between her jaws.

Warm human blood filled her mouth and yet she let as if it was the sweetest drink she ever had. She felt the need for more and she began to tear flesh and blood from her prey.

All of a sudden Arya found herself back in the boat with the sun shining down on her body. She laid down on the boat and started at the blue skies deep in thought. She knew in her heart she was seeing through Nymeria's eyes. This was not the first time it happened and not did she think this would be the last time. She had even seen through the eyes of rats during her training. She knew what that meant her eyes swelled up with tears thinking about the stories that Old Nan would tell her.

She rubbed away the tears and sat up in the boat. She looked to the west and her heart settled as she made her decision.

I am Arya Stark of Winterfell. And I am going home.