Chapter 23: Where have you been?

Sansa's POV

"Milady, there is news. Lord Redwyne will arrive tomorrow morning. Any word about His Grace?" Littlefinger's sly and gravelly tone filled my ears as I looked over to see him casually walking toward me, his leather-clad hands clasped together. I turned back to gaze at the sky.

Every month, I stood here hoping that Jon would return to the Eyrie with a good reason for his absence, but I found none. "The last anyone saw him was when he rode to Bear Island and burned their fields. For the first time in 100 years, the lands are buzzing with stocks of wheat, barley, corn, carrots, and potatoes. Bear Island has been singing Jon's praises ever since he gave Lady Lyanna a ride on that red dragon, and then he disappeared. It's been ages; where could he be?" I sighed in frustration. What kind of King in the North never stays in the North?

I shook my head heavily as I noticed two people walking through the gates. One was a young man, perhaps twenty namedays old, with deep blue eyes, jet-black hair, tan skin, and well-toned muscles. He looked at the snow as if he had never seen it before, clearly a Southerner. Next to him was Ser Davos, who walked further into the courtyard. For a moment, doubt crept into my heart.

I rushed down the steps and into the courtyard, trying to put on a welcoming face, despite mud splattering against my dress. "Ser Davos, do you have any news of Jon? Do you know where he is?" My tone bordered on desperation as I watched Ser Davos's pale gray eyes furrow in concern. He then turned to the tall, muscular boy beside him who resembled the late King Robert.

"This is Gendry, the smith. His Grace requested him for a special project. What do you mean, where is Jon? I assumed he was here with you," Ser Davos replied with a rugged tone that dispelled my doubts. Of course, Jon wouldn't even tell his closest advisor where he was going.

"He took off on his dragons to Bear Island, and no one has seen him since. Come, let's talk in the Great Hall. I'm sure you're weary, but we have troubles on the horizon." I spoke in a rushed tone, noticing Gendry's eyes widening at the mention of dragons. He hadn't heard the rumors about dragons in the north or the missing king.

In the Great Hall, Ser Davos sipped a cup of mead before letting out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping as he shook his head sadly. "I went to Flea Bottom. Many people were lying dead in the streets, and many more were nothing more than skin and bones. Food is scarce, and it's said that the royal family is keeping it all for themselves. There's talk of a riot, but the Queen's Keep is well supplied, while others starve. Killing that Tyrell girl and her brother did nothing but worsen the situation. Gendry and I left before things turned bad. Now, what's this about His Grace leaving on his dragons? Are they finally big enough to ride?"

His surprised voice shook me, and I took a sip of my wine as I watched Gendry gulping down beef stew, his hunger evident in his eyes. His attention seemed more focused on his food than our conversation, but if Jon had requested him, I supposed it would be all right to share.

"A few moons ago, I woke Jon up and showed him a message that came from King's Landing. They ordered us to bend the knee, give up two years' worth of provisions as payment for rebelling, and hand over Jon's dragons. I'm sure they would have chained and slaughtered them. They also claimed they were sending Lord Redwyne, a Lord of the Reach in charge of the Arbor, to treat. Despite what they did to Olenna's grandchildren, there have been no dragon sightings, so I can only assume that Jon has been hiding among the clouds. But I just don't know. I'm not sure what he would..."

A loud, fiery screech filled the air, and Gendry snapped his head up, his eyes wide with wonder. All I could think was, "It's about time." I let out an annoyed snort and slowly began to rise. "Redwyne will be here tomorrow. We'd better catch Jon up on all of this."

I nodded firmly at Ser Davos as we both made our way out of the Great Hall. As the darkness of the hall faded, and the bright light outside shone on our faces, I walked out into the training yard. There, I could see Jon slowly sliding off his blue dragon, Meleys, which appeared to have grown even larger. Her ocean-blue eyes studied the people around her as Jon gracefully dismounted. He looked like he had already become accustomed to riding dragons. A smile formed on his face as I glared coldly at him, though I noticed the Valyrian steel tablet he held.

Speaking in a booming voice, Jon garnered the attention of lords and soldiers alike. "Have the maesters send ravens to all the Lords of the North. I know how we can make Valyrian steel."

Cheers broke out, and people ran up to Jon, patting him on the back as they chuckled. I could understand it; we needed Valyrian steel just as badly as we needed dragonglass. As the cheers started to die down, Jon walked stiffly over to us. "I'm starving. Help me to the Great Hall. I haven't eaten in a few days, not since our last stop."

I examined him closely and noticed the dark bags under his eyes, his pale skin, and his slight thinness. He swayed on his feet, but we quickly got him inside and into his seat. I watched as he placed the slim Valyrian tablet on the table. I didn't want to cheer him on or slap him on the back; I wanted to break him in half and yell at him, but he looked so tired and a bit sickly.

Quickly, a few serving girls placed quail eggs, brown bread, sausages, porridge, and plenty of cups of ale in front of him. Jon tore into the food before him, barely looking at it, his jaws slamming together as he ate voraciously. A heavy sigh escaped his lips when he finally finished and began to recount his story about falling asleep on Tyraxes's back and waking up in old Valyria. I had heard some strange things from Jon before, but falling asleep on a dragon for what could have been weeks seemed stranger than usual.

"How did you know to go there?" Gendry looked intently at Jon, his eyes sparkling, clearly more interested in crafting Valyrian steel than politics.

Jon, his voice tinged with confusion and uncertainty, replied, "I kept having this dream of Old Valyria. In a forge stood a man who kept telling me that if I wanted to win the war and survive, I needed friends and tools. When I got there, I found this tablet hidden among the ashes. My guess is the Valyrian steel didn't melt, which makes sense since Valyrian steel is formed using Dragonfire. You have to labor over the weapons for a week after the dragon breathes flames on them and uses some kind of sacred magical water. But we can get into that later. I'm told you're Gendry."

Great, our king follows strange magical dreams. He might have a direwolf and dragons, but he's no true King in the North. At the moment, though, we had more pressing matters.

"Jon, Lord Redwyne is coming tomorrow morning. You should get some rest. I'll make sure the maesters send the ravens out." I tried to speak in a comforting and informative tone, and Ser Davos nodded in agreement.

"Well then, with the king back, he's going to need his Hand. Do you mind if you catch me up on all the details? Gendry, head to the forge and see if they need any help." Davos's polite tone forced a gentle smile to my face, and Gendry happily nodded his head. It seemed he enjoyed striking an anvil with a hammer more than getting involved in politics, as many did.

For hours, I briefed Davos on the whispers we had heard from King's Landing and what we had been doing while Jon was on his magical road trip. By the time we finished, the moon had reached its zenith, and I was too tired to talk any further.

The Next Morning

I watched the sunrise from the Lord's chambers, still feeling uneasy sleeping in Mother and Father's bed. There had been a hole in my heart since they died, and every moment in this room reminded me of their absence. But Jon had declared me Lady of Winterfell, so it was only right that I had this room.

"Milady Sansa, Lord Redwyne is on his way and should arrive within the hour. His Grace would like you to escort Lord Redwyne to the open meadow up the hill, just behind the walls of Winterfell," Lord Royce's strong, chilling voice interrupted my thoughts as I turned away from the window to face him. His bronze armor shimmered as I pondered why Jon would choose to meet outdoors, rather than in the comforts of a hall. But if that's what the King desired, I complied, with a sad shake of my head.

Quickly, I had a simple breakfast of milk and honey cakes, though not the lemon ones I preferred, before making my way to the gates. The sun warmed my skin and the breeze felt slightly milder than usual. Men nodded at me as I passed, and I walked past the forges and training yards, bustling with boys and girls. We approached a group of twenty men, with a man who had a balding scalp and orange hair at the back of his head leading them. His cold, cruel eyes met mine as I noticed the banners they carried – one with a stag and golden lion, and the other with a blue banner bearing a grape cluster.

"Lady Sansa, you look radiant," he said as he kissed my hand. His cousin's children had been killed and butchered, and yet he greeted me with a sly smile. I led him towards Jon, and his tone quivered with worry as he asked, "If you don't mind me asking, why are we meeting out here instead of in the Great Hall?"

"We aren't Lannisters, and we won't kill you. His Grace has been on a long journey and only returned yesterday. He didn't want to be cooped up in a stuffy hall," I replied, feeling a hint of annoyance. He questioned the honor of a Stark? Absurd.

We continued walking, and unease filled him like a serpent, though I had no clue what Jon was thinking. My legs began to ache as we ascended the steep hills. But upon reaching the top, my heart sank. Jon sat calmly on a wooden bench, Tessarion beside him, her cold mercury eyes studying me and Lord Redwyne. Redwyne trembled beside me as he saw Tessarion, and I could feel the fear radiating from him.

"What's worse than a mad queen who kills without hesitation?" Jon's tone was hard and cold, flames flickering in his eyes. Ghost, who rested at his feet, tensed his hind legs, ready to strike if needed. Tessarion flapped her wings, hovering behind Jon, as he continued, "An answer is a man who betrays his kin. Your cousin's children were slaughtered and butchered, eaten by the people, if the rumors my sister told me are true. So, what I need to understand is why you didn't sail home to the Reach. Why did you come here to take my dragons, my people, and our food?"

An angry scoff ripped through Redwyne as a thunderous roar shook the ground. Tyraxes landed before him, screeching, her crimson scales shimmering. She snapped at Redwyne, her cold blue eyes filled with malice, her spiked tail ready to strike. "These girls are my children, my family, and you're here to take them from me. To take me and Sansa back to the south to be slaughtered. She would have us bend the knee, keep us under her control until the North surrenders, and then she'll kill us, kill my children. We are not and will never be slaves to the Lannisters. I'd sooner burn the Red Keep and the Arbor to the ground if that's what it takes to free my people. You come here and threaten Lord Manderly's son; they've suffered enough thanks to you Southerners. The Glovers, the Karstarks—two good boys died for what? Lannisters and their lies, their ambitions. The North is soaked in the blood of our people. But what of the South? You think you can keep killing without remorse?"

Righteous fury burned in Jon as he stood, Ghost by his side, and his words resonated with the crowd, which began chanting, "The King in the North." Lord Manderly's eyes reflected pride and gratitude as he watched Jon.

As we made our way to the throne room, I could still hear the cheers. Jon was more beloved than ever. He had freed the North and discovered a way to forge Valyrian steel, and now he was willing to risk everything for one man. He would go down in history as the most beloved ruler, and for some reason, that sparked envy and hatred within me.

"I don't plan to fly below the clouds, but above them with the sun at my back to blind anyone who might try to see me. I'll land on the cliffs overlooking King's Landing, and from there, my dragons will go higher into the sky to hide. I'll wait on the cliffs and, if needed, go into the Red Keep to rescue him. The only problem is how to let them know about the rescue."

"Littlefinger," I suggested, "he has spies in the capital. Maybe he can get a message to one of them to let Lord Manderly's son know about the rescue party."

Jon nodded, though his eyes held caution as he spoke, "Sounds like a plan."

He opened the door and summoned a soldier and a maid carrying a tray. He asked the maid to fetch Littlefinger and bring ink, quill, and the maester with two ravens. I watched Jon carefully, noting how regal and kingly he seemed. Several moments later, Littlefinger and Lord Royce entered the room, accompanied by the maester with two ravens.

"Your Grace, you're back, and from what I heard, you have the means to make Valyrian steel for the war with the army of the dead," Littlefinger said with a sly smile.

"Yes, and now I need to know if you have any spies in the Red Keep who could deliver a message to Lord Manderly's son. He and he alone must receive the message," Jon said with a cold, commanding voice.

Littlefinger's eyes turned cryptic and cold as he dipped his quill into black ink and prepared to write. He asked, "What's the message?"

"Check the Blackwater Cliffs behind the Red Keep every day. A rescue party is coming," Jon ordered, his tone as cool as ice but his eyes burning with determination.

Littlefinger and Lord Royce exchanged puzzled glances, but Jon's fire returned as he spoke, "The Lannisters, ever since they took the throne, have brought suffering to the North and the entire realm. They killed two of my brothers, my father, and possibly my sister Arya. They tortured Sansa and forced her to marry a monster who raped her. They bled the North dry. But no more. The next time we meet on the battlefield, it will be their blood that is spilled. The North will be free of Southern rulers. If that means we have to fight them after the Great War, so be it. Winter is coming for House Lannister, and the North remembers."