Chambers of Visenya & Tywin, Tower of the Hand, Red Keep - King's Landing, Crownlands - Early Morning
The first rays of the sun had just started to become visible above King's Landing, but the sky above was still dark, while only a minimum amount of light could be seen for now. The faint flakes of snow could be seen falling from the sky.
In the chambers of the couple, Visenya was up and already dressed in her horse-riding gear.
The day prior she had prepared provisions and things for her trip, including some basic clothing. She knew she would persuade Tywin eventually to let her leave and she had made sure to prepare everything, so she would not waste any more time.
She wore her riding gloves and then looked in the direction of the bed, where Tywin was still sleeping. She had tried her best to be as quiet as possible but after the events of the night before, it was evident that he was not going to wake up that early.
It had taken her quite the mental motivation to get up and carefully leave his warm embrace, not to mention the challenge to ensure he would not wake up; because surprisingly Tywin was a rather light sleeper.
Or at least, he had become one after all the nights she had Dragon Dreams and had either woke up rather suddenly or had even left the bed for a quick small walk to clear her head.
But the fact remained that their nights together had changed.
Ever since the wedding dance fiasco, Tywin had become rather comforting after their nights together.
He would gently peck her forehead and her lips once they were done, caressing her cheek or her body with utmost care and gentleness; before he would make sure to cover them both with the blankets.
Almost every morning she would wake up, spooned by him while he kept her close. His one hand was always around her chest, her back pressed against his chest while she usually rested her head on his other extended arm.
He would bury his face to the back of her neck, often inhaling her scent and she could feel his heart beating, his chest expanding with each breath he took. He kept her as close as it was possible as if he was going to lose her if he dared to let her even an inch away from him.
She felt bad leaving him like that, knowing that he would wake up and not find her by his side when she had promised he would see her before her departure. That was the original plan until she saw a Dragon Dream.
She saw the white dragon heading for the Wall, breathing bright neon blue flames and destroying the mighty structure that was once built by magic, giants and hard work between the First Men and the Children of the Forest.
She also caught a glimpse of the army and it was the sheer number of them that had shocked her enough to actually wake up. Once she did, she realized that their time was running out and she had to move fast.
Visenya let out a sigh and walked towards the bed, a sad smile on her lips. A part of her wished that he would not join this war but stay back, to do what he did best. He had seen enough wars, he had been in enough wars and a part of her was afraid of who would survive this Great One.
She knew, though, that he would never accept it with his pride and so; she just had to pray for the best outcome.
She bent over the bed and gently pecked his forehead, taking in his scent before she carefully pulled back. She knew he would be angry at her but she had no choice, not at the moment.
She grabbed her things and silently exited the room, leaving only a letter on the study for him to read that explained faintly her sudden departure. As she closed the door behind her, a Lannister soldier was waiting for her.
"The horses are ready, my lady," he told her and she offered him a small smile.
"Thank you. Let us go then. We have a long trip ahead of us."
He nodded his head. "What's our first destination?"
She smirked. "Dorne."
Wall Ramparts, Winterfell, North - Westeros - Day
The familiar white snow had finally come for the Northerners, spreading like a thick blanket above buildings, castles and lands. The temperatures were dropping rather quickly, a sign that more cold was expected to come.
Jon had returned with Daenerys, her army and her dragons; creating internal conflicts in the family. However, with the big threat coming; everyone knew it was something they had to put up with.
Of course, they were not as displeased as to hear that the Crown would send their armies as well. There was a lot of bad blood amongst many of the families, and many old crimes that needed to be resolved.
Sansa knew that ever since she took after Jon in ruling Winterfell while he was absent. She was partially happy to know the crown would come, for it would mean she would see Trystan again.
The Half-Lion had not once left her thoughts or her dreams despite the passage of time, although a part of her wondered what they truly could tell once they met. Yet, a different part of her was looking forward to seeing him and even Lady Visenya.
Her thoughts, though, were currently on something else.
With Bran's new ability, she had managed to learn the truth about Petyr Baelish and his betrayal. He had even tried to pit Sansa against her sister, Arya; who had recently returned to Winterfell.
However, the truth was found in the end and Arya executed him for his crimes.
He had hired an assassin to kill Bran while he was in a coma on the bed, and then he blamed Tyrion. He had caused the war between the Five Kingdoms, he had murdered Lysa Arryn and he had also betrayed Ned Stark while in King's Landing.
Now, he was no more and the Stark children could finally rest knowing that justice was served for the murder of their father. Arya had taken care of the Freys as well, bringing justice for their mother and Robb.
Sansa looked ahead at the snow-covered lands, thinking about all those things that had taken place; all those betrayals, secrets, lies and even reunions that had taken place. With Jon returning recently, especially, and with those invaders...she had a lot on her mind.
The sound of steps made her look towards the source, only to see her younger sister walking her way. She had matured as well and grown taller but not as tall. She no longer had this mischievous nature in her eyes, instead, she had become rather serious.
Just like all of the Stark children, war, pain and grief had changed her. It made her colder and more ruthless, dangerous even and all became evident when she easily sliced Petyr's neck like it was nothing.
"Are you all right?" Arya asked her as she came to a halt by her side.
Sansa did not have to be told anything else, knowing too well to what she was referring to. Petyr Baelish had confessed that he loved her, in his last attempt to save himself from Arya's dagger but it did not work.
"It's just strange. In his own horrible way, I believe he loved me." She confessed, glancing at her momentarily.
"You did the right thing." Her sister reminded her.
"You did it."
"I'm just the executioner. You passed the sentence. You're the Lady of Winterfell." Arya said, making Sansa smile faintly at her new title.
It was a title the Northern Lords gave her and she carried it with both pride but also humility. She would never let power get into her head, blind her from what she had originally sworn to do and that was to protect her family.
She turned to face her sister. "Does that bother you?" she asked her, remembering how there was always this competition between them; mostly because Sansa excelled in lady skills but Arya did not.
She shrugged her shoulders. "I was never going to be as good a lady as you. So I had to be something else. I never could have survived what you survived."
Her words made her smile faintly but she could not accept all that praise, because she knew the truth. "You would have. You're the strongest person I know."
This amused the younger wolf and she did not hide it. "I believe that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." She smirked.
Sansa rolled her eyes faintly but she was equally amused. "Well, don't get used to it. You're still very strange and annoying." She said, bringing back the usual friendly sibling rivalry they had.
It was odd to her; how they almost hated one another in the past and now they complimented each other for their strengths and the fact that they survived everything that was thrown their way.
Once upon a time, their parents would give anything to see the two of them talking without insulting one another.
As if Arya was thinking something similar, she spoke up. "In winter, we must protect ourselves. Look after one another." She quoted a phrase all the Stark children knew too well.
"When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives." She continued for her.
Those were the words that their father would tell them ever since they were little, to remind them that despite their differences; they should always stick to one another. Back then, when Sansa was alone in the Vale and did not know if any of her siblings were alive; she mocked that phrase.
She truly thought it was wrong for she had been the last one to survive while her pack had perished. Their attempt to stay together did not help them, instead only made things worse.
Yet, now here they were. Four of the six children, all back together and once again united against a bigger threat; ironically a threat that came with the Winter.
"I miss him," Arya confessed, looking sadly beyond the snowy plains.
She often thought of him, especially when her training with the Faceless Assassins was becoming too much. She did miss him, sometimes wishing he could have been present to hug and advise her; and offer her some comfort.
There were times she often felt guilty for not spending enough time with him, hugging him as much as she should. If she knew she would lose him that early, she would have tried harder to be with him.
Sansa glanced at her, seeing the emotions in her brown eyes. She could hold them back as much as she wished and even suppress them but her sister could see them. She recognised them because she saw them in her own eyes whenever she looked in the mirror. "Me, too." She said, offering a gentle smile; which she returned.
The two of them stood like that, enjoying the feeling of winter and snow. It had been too long since they had done that; Arya even more than Sansa. It did not snow as South as she was, and she had missed both the sight but also the familiarity of it.
She placed her one hand by her waist, where her dagger and Needle were placed; resting her hand on it. This movement seemed to grab the attention of her sister.
"That dagger you used to slice Petyr's throat, may I see it?" Sansa asked.
Arya looked at her but in the end, she nodded her head. "Sure," she said and pulled it from the sheath she had made for it, before flipping it in her arm.
She held the tip of the blade and let Sansa grab it from the leather-bound handle.
Sansa looked at it, noticing the familiar Valyrian Steel but her eyes went to the engraving found at the base of the blade, close to the handle. "Is this...High Valyrian?" she asked, recognising the letters.
This surprised the young wolf. "Yeah, it is," she answered, arching an eyebrow. "How did you know?"
She looked from the dagger, at her sister. "Who gave you this?"
"Someone..." Arya answered but eventually gave in after Sansa gave her the look. "It was Lady Visenya. Why?"
Sansa did not answer her directly but instead pulled a dagger from between the folds of her furs. It was the exact same dagger Arya had and the said wolf looked at it with surprise, not expecting it.
"Because she gave me one too," Sansa explained as she handed Arya her dagger. "What name does yours say?"
Arya gave a toothy smirk. "Vhaegar. Yours?" she asked, feeling like a little kid ready to compare, which of the two got the best gift.
"Tessarion." she answered as she hid her dagger again. "How did you meet her and how did you make her give you a dagger?"
The question might sound like an interrogation but Arya chose not to bother much about them, understanding her curiosity. Plus, the young wolf did feel this was the chance for her to show off a little bit.
After all, sibling rivalry was always there and sometimes she could not truly help but go for it.
"In Harrenhal, I was Lord Tywin's cupbearer, per her orders," she confessed, enjoying how lost her sister was for a moment. She took a minute to enjoy it, not losing that smirk. "They didn't know it was me, of course. Just a common servant girl. She took a liking to me, and gave me this dagger to defend myself."
Sansa slowly got control of herself, not sure what to comment on it. She could not imagine Arya somehow being cupbearer for that intimidating Old Lion and yet again, if there was one person that could truly survive; it would be her.
She smiled upon hearing the reasons behind the dagger, already imagining the scenario in her mind. "It sounds like her. She gave it to me for the same reason," she explained.
Arya sheathed her dagger. "Have you used it before?" she asked her sister, now curious to know how much she had changed.
She nodded her head, briefly remembering how she wounded their aunt Lysa to escape her grip and save herself from being thrown through the Moon Door. "Only once, to defend myself. I didn't kill anyone but I did harm them." She answered, choosing not to go into any more details.
Her younger sister smirked. "A few times," she confessed but said nothing else, choosing to keep a secret how many had their blood on her dagger until now.
Godswood, Winterfell - North - Sometime Later
After the execution of Petyr Baelish, Jon had left the room as he needed time to think. He had been back at Winterfell for less than a day and already things were heating up, while blood was being spilt.
He did not regret what happened to Petyr, knowing that justice was served and in the proper way. However, their father would agree since he always used to say the one that passes out the sentence should also carry the execution.
Jon left Ygritte with her people for now, for he needed some time alone. His feet led him to the Godswood, a place where his father would often spend so much time there.
It was peaceful and it brought back memories, as he and Robb used to spar there; with Theon as well. So many things had changed ever since and the only ones that truly seemed to remember were the faces carved into the trunk of the weirwood.
"You used to be taller." A familiar voice told him.
He immediately turned around, only to see his sister Arya standing near him. He never heard her coming or even approaching. "How did you sneak up on me?" he asked, slowly coming to realize how much his sister had changed.
Arya looked at him with that serious look, looking so much like their father for a moment. She kept her hands behind her back. "How did you survive a knife through the heart?"
"I didn't."
Somehow, this honest answer that was so much like him; made her laugh. She rushed towards him and he met her halfway, both embracing tightly after years of being apart; after all the challenges they had to pass through all alone.
He had missed her greatly, although he did feel odd from her height sprout. Last time she was shorter than him, far shorter and skinnier. He eventually pulled back first, his dark eyes scanning her only to notice the sword by her waist.
He scoffed in disbelief. "You still have it."
Arya looked down at where his attention was and smiled. She unsheathed her sword and held it on top of her open palms. "Needle."
She said, reminding him the name she had given the sword when he had first handed it to her, as a present.
He smiled as he took it, observing that it was still in very good condition. Pride filled his chest, not expecting her to have kept it all this time but here he was, proven wrong.
"Have you ever used it?" he asked her as she handed the sword back to her.
"Once or twice." She answered and put the sword away. At the same time, her brother pulled out his sword and handed it to her. She inspected the familiar blade. "Valyrian steel."
He smirked faintly. "Jealous?"
She tried not to get offended and only ended up scoffing as a reaction to his words. "Too heavy for me. Plus, I have my own." She smirked and pulled out her Valyrian Dagger, showing it to him with pride.
His smirk dropped and his eyes opened wider as he inspected it, never having seen a dagger made of Valyrian Steel before; only swords.
"Where did you get this?" he asked, curious whether she had it made while she travelled South or she might have even stolen it.
She placed it back in its sheath. "Lady Visenya gave it to me, without knowing it was me of course."
This made him blink slowly, processing what she had just said. He was surprised to hear that the Dragoness had given away such a precious dagger; to a girl she did not know. He tried to think back at the Dragon Pits, the few glances she had gotten of her but did not have any true conversation.
Of course, Jon could not forget that the Dragoness was Arya's heroine since she was a child and this meeting must have been something she truly enjoyed. Either way, if Lady Visenya were to come North with the army; perhaps Jon would have a chance to truly meet her.
He looked at her and at the dagger she held out not so long ago, a smile on his face. "It suits you," he commented as he sheathed his sword.
Then, he put his hand on her shoulder. "Where were you before? I could've used your help with Sansa." He said, mentioning the fact that their sister did not truly like Daenerys, at all from the looks of it.
Arya quickly understood what he was talking about. "She doesn't like your queen, does she?"
"Sansa thinks she's smarter than everyone."
Yet, Arya was not going to agree with him this time. Perhaps when she was younger but things had changed, they all had changed. "She's the smartest person I've ever met."
Her brother blinked. "Now you're defending her?" he asked and could not help but chuckle, never expecting such a thing to happen, let alone before any of the two sisters grew quite old. "You?"
She did not truly share his humour, realizing the seriousness of the situation. "I'm defending our family. So is she." She reminded him, as she continued to defend their sister.
"Yeah. I'm her family too."
She gave him a tight hug, which he gladly returned. "Don't forget that." She told him with a small smile, more than happy that the siblings were all back together.