"Rickon Stark!" Ross' voice rang out across the courtyard.

Guards, servants and insolent little boys alike, all froze. She hurried across the cobbles towards her nephew as he rode through the gates, mounted not on a horse but on the back of Shaggydog, Grey Wind at his side.

"Where have you been?"

Sansa had come running to Ross in a panic several hours before, saying that they couldn't find Rickon anywhere. That day she had volunteered to take care of her brother, only for him to disappear during a game of hide and seek.

Osha, who had been amusing herself and several of the household guards by sparring with them in the practice yard, hadn't seemed too concerned.

"He'd do what he liked on Skagos," She had shrugged. "Was no stopping him when he went tearing off into the mountains with Shaggy. They used to hunt wild unicorns together, and bring them back for dinner. The boy does just fine looking after himself - no man or beast that walks this earth is going to cross that monster wolf,"

She raised a fair point, but Sansa was still distressed, having only just got her brother back from the dead. Even Lady Catelyn had come down from her solar when she heard the news, asking after Rickon with wide eyes. Ross wasn't best pleased herself that the six year old Lord of Winterfell was running off on his own to Gods know where, with autumn snow piling up high across the land. It wasn't any man or beast who she feared harming him; it was the cold.

Though she could've attempted to take a horse and follow him, it would likely be a fruitless journey. Instead, she had explained what happened to Robb, and Grey Wind had taken off after his wayward brother, following the tracks in the snow, or perhaps the scent too. Now both had returned, safe and sound.

"I didn't go far, Auntie," Rickon said, unconcerned. "I wasn't gone very long,"

"Long enough for your mother and sisters to be worried sick," She said. "If you want to go out of the castle, let someone know, so Grey Wind can go with you, or Osha,"

She wasn't going to try and push things by making him stay confined to within the castle walls; no doubt he'd find a way out anyway, and would only resent them for it.

"I can go out by myself," He said sullenly. "I'm not a baby,"

"Of course not," Ross said. "But you are a summer child, no matter how long you lived on Skagos. You don't know how deadly a Northern winter can be. What would happen if a blizzard came out of nowhere? You'd die freezing in the snow, and so would Shaggydog, and we'd not find your corpses until spring. Now that would be a very stupid death, wouldn't it? You're smarter than that,"

"I s'pose," The boy mumbled, rubbing the end of his nose.

"I have no problem with you going out," She emphasised. "But take Grey Wind with you, and tell someone where you're going. Otherwise I'll have to keep Shaggydog locked in the Godswood, or even the kennels, and you won't be able to see him at all,"

The thought of that disturbed the boy enough that he nodded hastily. "Yes, Auntie,"

"Good," She smiled. "Now I believe Edrick and Ren are out in the yards if you wanted to train with them. Arya too,"

Arya had started training in the yard along with the boys and guards. A few of the older men had taken exception to this but could hardly say anything, particularly when Ross herself had no issue with it, and Brienne and Osha also trained with a sword (Dacey had returned to Bear Island to her family). Her niece had clearly had to use that tiny blade of hers after fleeing King's Landing, and likely wouldn't have survived without it.

"She's pretty good," Ren said, grinning. "Unmarried life suits her well,"

Of course they had annulled the (obviously) unconsummated marriage between Edrick and Arya. The two of them being husband and wife benefitted no one except Roose Bolton, who was now dead. Ross had, amongst others things, whispered to her husband as he died that she would ensure that the Bolton name died with him. Given Edrick had vehemently insisted that he refused to be Lord of the Dreadfort - his time living under Ramsay Snow had scarred him more than he let on - it would be Aileen and whoever she married taking over the Bolton lands and taking a new house name.

Edrick was to make another match, ridding himself of the hated name. She had been looking into who was in line to inherit Barrowton; currently it was ruled by Lady Barbrey, a Ryswell by birth, the widow of the late Lord Willem Dustin who had died childless during Robert's Rebellion. There had to be some distant Dustin cousin for Edrick to marry and end up inheriting the Barrowlands.

There had been a great deal of matches arranged recently, both to thank the bannermen for their part in fighting the Lannisters and also to cement Rickon's claim. Sansa was now betrothed to Daryn Hornwood, who had been one of Robb's battle guard and close friends, a good man Ren had said. Sansa herself seemed pleased by the match, to a Northman from a good family not too far from Winterfell, however they wouldn't marry until she was of age.

To thank Lord Manderly for helping locate Rickon - and realising he was alive in the first place - Ross had written to him suggesting a betrothal between the boy and one of his granddaughters. It turned out that his eldest son Wylis's third daughter, Mara, was only a year older than her nephew and so the match was made. It would be good to have a Northern woman married to the Lord of Winterfell; Ross' father had been too ambitious making southron matches for two of his children, particularly Brandon.

As Aileen had suddenly become an heiress, Ross had received numerous letters from any house with sons from the ages of three to thirty, all keen to have the Bolton lands for themselves. She had made it clear that her daughter would make all the decisions as a lord would rather than her husband, and for this reason was considering Arron Umber, youngest son of the Greatjon. The Umbers were staunchly loyal, and would hopefully do as she wished, though nothing was confirmed yet.

She had also received many offers for Arya's hand, but this was not so much a priority. Arya was young, had no desire to marry (again) and it sometimes paid off to have an unbetrothed daughter. Rickon seemed to prefer her to Sansa, besides, though he loved both of his sisters; likely because Arya didn't try to keep him in line most of the time.

At Ross' mention of Arya being in the yards, the boy's face lit up.

"I'll get my practice sword," He scrambled back on Shaggydog without another word to her, careening across the yard to the armoury, scattering guards and servants in his wake.

Ross didn't know whether to laugh or tear her hair out.

Her nephew listened to her more than most others. Edrick and Arya didn't even bother trying to control him, more likely to laugh at his misbehaviour. He listened to Sansa, Aileen and Lady Catelyn sometimes, but not always; he often seemed to appreciate Sansa's soft approach, revealing that he did crave a motherly touch, but other times he found it just as easy to say no to her and continue acting up. Osha, he seemed to regard more of a friend than a mother figure, and would either do as she told him or ignore her, to which she would just shrug and let him.

Ross was stern enough that he tended to listen to her, but was also understanding that he hadn't had the usual upbringing for a little lord and took that into account. And when she failed to make him do as she said, Robb was always there as Grey Wind to growl and nudge him none too gently into line, which was often necessary.

Rickon was wild, there was no doubt about that. Even Ross' brother Brandon hadn't been that bad. He often went to sleep downstairs, taking Shaggydog with him, claiming his room was too hot, or the bed too soft; the household were always amused to find him in the morning, curled up in the stables or other such places. He left the castle at every hour of the day, riding off on his wolf into the snow, often coming back with a deer carcass or a rabbit. He had no concept of table manners, of taking care of his new fine clothes or of having people tell him what to do. He lost his temper easily, though would forgive just as fast.

It was a good thing they had ten years before he would be a lord in his own right. Perhaps it would give him time to calm down. And if not, then she hoped that Mara Manderly at least would grow up with a calmer, more sensible temperament to balance her future husband.

For now, thankfully, the North was in Ross' hands.

They had written to Loreon in King's Landing explaining the truth of what happened, that Rickon Stark was now Lord of Winterfell, Roose Bolton was dead, and of course that Ross herself was alive. Like everyone else, she told him she had never died, simply been badly injured and healed by the Red Priest. The only ones who knew the truth were the Brotherhood Without Banners, who had remained in the RIverlands to protect the smallfolk there.

Included with the letter to Loreon, Ross had written another, smaller note for Jaime. That had been hard to write, and even harder to send. It wasn't easy to explain why she had let him - not to mention two of her children - think she was dead for months.

Loreon had replied sincerely glad that she wasn't dead, and as requested named her Lady Paramount of the North without question, regent for Rickon until he turned sixteen. At the end of his letter, he had added that the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard had been tasked with the important job of travelling north to ensure everything there was as she claimed. He had left that very day, in fact, so don't expect a reply from him by letter.

She had smiled then, though the anxiety at the idea of Jaime coming to Winterfell had soon crept up on her. What would he think of her, after all these months? The last time she had seen him was Harrenhal, but the castle had been so busy (and occupied by her husband) that she had scarcely dared speak to him. She had died in the time since then.

Not to mention the reaction of her family when the Kingslayer arrived at the gates of the castle. Perhaps Ren would be glad to see him, but the others would be indifferent at best, more likely openly hostile. Gods, Catelyn would have a field day.

She knew her goodsister had somewhat improved when she saw her wear that familiar look of disapproval. Though Lady Catelyn still rarely ventured outside - in fairness, it was icy cold - sticking mainly to her chambers, the room she and Sansa embroidered in or the Great Hall - and still was far more distant than before, she had started speaking more often (though only in short sentences), smiled occasionally and of course now showed her displeasure at certain things. Arya training with the men, for one, not that the girl paid it any mind.

Likely the woman finding out that Robb was still alive in Grey Wind had helped her mind recover a little. Though most mothers don't exactly wish for their sons to grow up to be a direwolf, it was undoubtedly better than being truly dead. Catelyn had cried properly when they had told her, the same night Roose and Ramsay died, falling to her knees and hugging Robb, sobbing into his fur and saying how sorry she was. It was the most human the woman had seemed in months, according to Aileen.

Since then, Catelyn had showed some interest in taking care of Rickon, helping to sew him new clothes and even singing him to sleep some nights. Wild though the boy was, of course he needed his mother, no matter how broken she might be, and appreciated her greatly in the hours he let himself be soft and babied a little.

Sansa too spent much of the day with her mother, when she wasn't with Ross helping to organise the household. She and Aileen had devised a system of large letters embroidered onto a plain white canvas which Robb could use to point at to spell words, a rudimentary system of communication that, whilst frustrating and slow to use, was better than nothing.

Though with Ren around, being able to warg into Crow at will - and it would never not disturb Ross to see her son's eyes roll back into his head and his mind take over the wolf, or even worse the few times she thought she saw Crow looking back out at her from Ren's face - he could understand Robb a lot better. He couldn't sense words, of course, but intentions and feelings, which went some way with allowing Robb to communicate with them.

Ren and Osha both spent a great deal of time with Rickon - particularly when Ren couldn't train for a while, allowing the wound Ramsay had given him to recover - helping him gain more control over his skinchanging with Shaggydog so that it didn't consume him. Her son had explained how initially in battle he wouldn't be sure if he was the direwolf clawing and biting or the man holding the sword. Rickon had been doing the same, but his youth made that far more dangerous.

Arya and surprisingly Sansa were also interested in learning how to do what Ren did. Both had only experienced warging in their dreams, but with Ren's assistance and Osha's advice they managed to gain more control over it and were beginning to be able to skinchange with Lady and Nymeria.

They kept all this quiet, of course. Let the North wonder if the Starks were wargs, but never confirm it. Skinchangers were still feared, even beyond the Wall, which was why they were going to keep the fact that Robb was still alive in Grey Wind a secret. Let the household mutter all they liked, let them guess at the truth, but they couldn't ever know for sure. Else people would think they were either insane or half-Wildling.

Ross often heard the wolves howling outside the walls during the night, hunting as a pack. She wondered if her son, nieces and nephews were out there too, in spirit if not in body, dreams full of blood and running prey.

She had always had trouble sleeping since the Rebellion. Those dreams had started to fade away in time, going from daily to weekly to monthly. Now, however, new nightmares plagued her. Along with Aerys' clawed nails and evil eyes, her father burning and Brandon choking to death, she dreamt of Ned's head being held high above a screaming crowd, relived Robb's throat being slit ear to ear, Morganna collapsing in a pool of her own blood, Ramsay slashing Edrick across the eye and stabbing Ren in the side, the glint of Roose Bolton's knife as it plunged towards her own chest.

But the one that upset her the most wasn't of her tortured memories. It was something that had never been. Ross dreamt of a child, a baby boy with golden hair and grey eyes, smiling up at her as she held him on her knee, Jaime coming in and kissing her before swinging the child around the little boy laughing.

She awoke with her face wet with tears, the pillow too, and took a moment to realise why she was crying; hadn't that been a pleasant dream, for once? Then she remembered the bloody little bundle she buried under a tree in the Riverlands, having leeched the life from it before it even had a chance to be born.

Ross had sat alone in bed with her head in her hands and wept as the rising winter sun cast a pale light across her chambers. Then she washed her red eyes in the basin and composing herself for the day.

*

When the new maester, Gawen - hurriedly sent from Oldtown to White Harbour by ship then on to Winterfell - handed Ross the letter from the Wall, she got her hopes up thinking that Jon Snow may be coming to Winterfell to visit and see for himself that his siblings were safe. As if she would be so lucky. Her nephew spoke instead of an army of a hundred thousand Wildlings marching on the Wall under Mance Rayder.

As well as writing to Winterfell, the Night's Watch had also petitioned the Iron Throne to send men. Loreon had agreed to sail a good portion of the armies of the south up to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea to help defend the Wall. They'd had longer to recover than the North, the war having been over for the Baratheons and Tyrells once Stannis took King's Landing, and for the Lannisters and Tullys once the treaty at Harrenhal was signed. Dorne and the Vale had never even been part of the fighting.

The North, on the other hand, had only had a few months to recover since driving the Ironborn out. Most of Winterfell was now repaired and restored, though rather sparse and lacking any sort of decoration save several fur rugs the hunters had brought in from the Wolfswood, and a few basic tapestries woven by the women of Winterfell. The men were tired, yet Ross would have to send an army to the Wall all the same. The Starks had always been generous to the Night's Watch and it would certainly be worse to have their lands overrun with Wildlings just as winter arrived.

Osha had many opinions on this, of course.

"You southerners don't know what's out there in the dark and the cold," She had warned. "Best let the Freefolk through the Wall, Ross, or you'll find there's much worse things out there than raiders and spearwives,"

"It's not up to me," Ross replied. "The Watch will never allow them through the Wall - I have no authority there to tell them otherwise. Besides, the Umbers and Karstarks would rebel if I let them become neighbours to a hundred thousand Wildlings,"

So the North once more raised its weary head to go to war. She let Ren manage the organisation of the Winterfell men, as he knew much more about how an army worked than she did. Ross herself was overseeing preparations for winter, along with Sansa and Aileen who showed a keen interest in learning from her. Even Catelyn joined occasionally, to help look over things.

Ross insisted that Rickon tag along at least once a week in an attempt to teach him of his future responsibilities, though he showed little interest in such things as logistics and finances and was a lot more keen to work with Ren. Though not ideal, she supposed that at least he enjoyed one part of lord's work. The boy was only six, after all.

Not caring for the state of the Stark coffers - money wouldn't matter if they didn't make it through the winter - she spent a great deal on new glass for the glass gardens. Ross had already began to ration food though they had plenty stored away, seeing as they had missed the last couple of harvests due to being at war, and even ordered more grain, preserved meats and pickled vegetables from the Reach and Essos.

This would be a hard winter, after the long summer they had had, and the North would suffer. All she could do was keep Winterfell - and those who came down to Wintertown from the outlying villages - provisioned. Already, half of the town outside the walls was occupied, with a steady stream of smallfolk trickling in from all over the Stark lands, making repairs, collecting firewood and hunting for game to preserve.

She was midway through writing a letter to the (thankfully competent) castellan of the Dreadfort - another of her responsibilities, as she could hardly abandon the castle her daughter was supposed to inherit in a few years - when a guard knocked on the door to the lord's solar. There was still a faint bloodstain on the floor near the door from where Ramsay had been eaten, no matter how many hours the maids had spent scrubbing it.

"Half a dozen riders are coming up the Kingsroad from the south, milady," He said. "Lannister's party. They'll be almost at the gates by now,"

Already? Gods. Ross hadn't been expecting Jaime for at least another week, considering the southron men would not be used to travelling in such conditions as this. It wasn't even winter yet and snow was already thick on the ground, the outside air too cold to go out in without thick layers of clothes.

"Tell the maids to ready chambers for Ser Jaime and his men," She said, getting to her feet. "I'll receive them in the courtyard,"

She hadn't time to prepare properly; her hair was tied back in a practical braid, she wore a plain dress with no jewellery save a simple silver necklace and the Stark signet ring, and smelled like ale from inspecting the brewery earlier that day. She knew, of course, that she was being ridiculous - Jaime himself would be filthy from travelling all the way from King's Landing - but couldn't shake the thought.

Ross put on a winter cloak and made her way straight to the courtyard, hoping she would be the only one there to greet the party. However, no sooner had she made it downstairs, what seemed like her entire family arrived there too. Arya, Edrick and Ren first, Rickon trailing along with them, having been practicing in the yards, then Sansa, and Aileen from the library. Great. A small mercy that Catelyn had stayed inside; she would be the most disapproving of all.

"What are you all doing here?" She asked, weary.

"We're here to greet Ser Jaime, Aunt. It's only polite," Sansa replied with a smile, though her expression was as cold as Arya's at the idea of meeting a Lannister; for once the two sisters were in agreement.

"You're all here to glower and mutter petty things," Ross corrected.

Arya's lips twitched. "Yes,"

"Why shouldn't we?" Edrick said, disgruntled. He still wore a poultice over his healing eye; they had yet to know if Ramsay's blade had left him blind on that side. "He's a Lannister. We were fighting a war against them half a year ago. Robb held him prisoner at Riverrun for over a year,"

He nudged Grey Wind who had prowled up to stand with them too - of course he had, for gods sake - and the wolf growled in agreement.

"You just don't like him because you saw him with Mother in the Godswood," Aileen said mildly, making Ren snort and Morganna wrinkle her face up.

Edrick looked equally disgusted. "Not just because of that,"

"If you despise him that much then go inside," Ross suggested, without much hope that he would. "That goes for all of you,"

She found herself absurdly anxious, smoothing down her skirts and fiddling with the cuffs of her sleeves. None of them were helping.

"I actually want to see him," Ren protested. "Morganna does too, though she won't admit it," Morganna shoved him for that. "Aileen doesn't care much either way, and Rickon doesn't even know who we're talking about,"

"Yes I do!" The boy protested indignantly.

"Go on then, who's visiting us?"

Rickon hesitated. "A Lanster," He seemed unsure, then suddenly remembered his lessons. "They're a great house - Maester Gawen said so! The lion one. From the... the Riverlands? No one likes them,"

"Lann-is-ter," Ren sounded out for him. "Close, though. They're from the Westerlands,"

"We went to war with them," Arya added. "They're the reason everyone left you,"

"Arya?" Ross said.

"Yes, Auntie?"

"Do shut up,"

That earned a few laughs, though they all fell silent as the gates opened and seven weary riders on seven tired horses came through. None of the group wore red or gold, which was wise considering they were travelling in such a small group; Lannister colours would only make them a target. But even though the hood of his cloak was up due to the light snow that had started to fall, Ross still recognised the one in front immediately.

Gods he was as handsome as ever. What might he think of her? What could she say, after all that happened, she had died, for Gods sake, lost their child, which he knew nothing of -

But Jaime had dismounted before his horse had even come to a halt, eyes on her as he strode forward without a word. Before Ross could say anything at all, he wrapped his arms around her in an embrace, holding her tight to his chest.

For a split second she panicked - what would everyone think? - then realised it she didn't care, and returned the hug just as tightly, burying her face in his shoulder, ignoring the fact there were people (her family) watching and letting herself enjoy being held by him again. She felt the hood of her cloak slip off, and knew snow would be settling in her hair, but didn't want to pull apart to fix it.

"I missed you," She mumbled so only he could hear. Then paused. "Though I imagine you haven't got much sympathy,"

Jaime snorted at that, drawing back to look at her, a genuine smile pulling at his lips, a thousand emotions in his eyes.

"None at all," His tone was as dry as usual, however, and it made her heart leap. "You never saw my mutilated corpse paraded into Harrenhal on the back of a horse,"

"In all fairness, you didn't see mine either," Her lips twitched.

For once, he had no acerbic reply to that save a shake of the head and a muttered curse before he pulled her in for another hug. When they broke apart, Ross turned to see her family all staring at her, some with mild amusement, most with mild disgust.

Rickon furrowed his brow. "I thought Aunt Ross killed her husband?"

Even Arya and Edrick had to grin at that.

"He's not her husband, sweetling," Sansa told him gently.

"Just the father of Ren and Morganna," Edrick said, tone rather resentful.

"And the King," Arya muttered.

"Arya!" Sansa sharply reprimanded her, which only made the girl grin.

Rickon still looked confused.

"Oh!" Morganna exclaimed suddenly, smiling abashedly when everyone looked at her. "I've just realised Myrcella's my s- cousin. That's... that's good," She had more tact than Arya, at least, though not by much.

"Joffrey is too," Edrick shot her a dark look and she made a rude hand gesture at him, mouthing the words 'one-eye'.

"Not anymore," Ren said, looking at Jaime.

"A tragedy, what happened to my nephew," His tone suggested it was anything but.

"Are you sure?" Ren raised an eyebrow, amused.

"No. I was there to watch him go over the cliff. Cersei wept, but everyone else seemed more upset about losing a good horse,"

"Sorry about that. I'll buy Tommen a new one to make up for it," Ren grinned then, and Jaime laughed.

"Why are you s - oh Ren, you didn't!" Sansa realised what they were talking about.

"Didn't what?" Edrick frowned.

"You warged the horse," Aileen followed her cousin's train of thought, a smile on her face. At her words, and Ren's lack of denial, all the children began to laugh, surrounding him, asking questions.

Ross took their distraction as an opportunity to grab Jaime by the arm and tug him hastily into the castle, him laughing the whole way of course. Sansa could sort out where the rest of his men would stay. For once, she was handing over all responsibility; she was allowed to do that once in a while, surely.

"A warm welcome as ever from House Stark," He said as she led him through the warm halls, arm in arm up the stairs, ignoring the gawping of the servants.

"I don't know what business they had glowering like that," Ross said. "I did say that I wanted to meet you alone, they all chose to be there. A blessing Catelyn stayed inside,"

"Yes, your goodsister was surprisingly absent," He noted.

"The war wasn't kind on her," She said. "From what Aileen said, she tore her own face apart out of grief when she heard Robb was dead,"

"Gods," Jaime grimaced, hesitating. "Good thing I managed to contain myself when I thought you dead. You'd have turned me away from those gates after seeing I wasn't so pretty,"

Ross smacked him on the arm for that, hard, but he just laughed and she allowed herself a grudging smile.

"I will say that it's strange being with you in public and not fearing for my life,"

"Ah yes, your dear husband is dead and gone," Jaime said with a grin. "Did you mourn him as much as I mourned Joffrey?"

"After I stabbed him, I had his body thrown on a bonfire the builders were using to burn useless bits of wood," She said. "Then the ashes were swept into the stable muck-heap,"

He let out a laugh at that. "In fairness, that's only slightly less courteous than him dumping your corpse in the woods,"

"True. Though he did make a proper show of it," She said. "He brought back the bones of that whore and buried her in the crypts in a grave marked with my name. Though I suppose he did think they were mine. Seeing as they've gone to the effort of carving the stone, I suppose I'll end up there sooner or later. It's rather eerie seeing my own grave. Even stranger seeing another skeleton being taken out of it,"

"You couldn't have just let her rest? Spared one small grave?" Jaime looked amused. "You're not exactly using it yourself yet,"

"Everyone who isn't a Stark says they find that place unnerving," She shrugged. "She wouldn't have liked it," He scoffed at that, and she smiled. "We reburied her in the graveyard in Wintertown," No one had known her name to put on a headstone.

"Thoughtful of you,"

"Milady," A maid approached her, bobbing a curtsey though her eyes darted to Jaime. "Ser. There are rooms prepared for the Lord Commander in the guest wing, if you wish me to escort you there?"

Ross glanced at Jaime.

"I hate to say it, but you need a bath," She said, turning to the girl as Jaime laughed. "So yes, thank you Melia. Ser, I'll see you at dinner in the Great Hall?"

"So I can be further glared at by miniature Starks?" He raised an eyebrow, grinning. "It would be my pleasure, my lady,"

Before he left, he had the audacity to swoop in and kiss her full on the lips. Ross didn't even shut her eyes she was so shocked, but wasn't so caught off guard that she didn't smack his arm when he pulled away. The maid, Melia, let out a surprised, hastily-smothered laugh.

"For Gods sake, you - "

"See you at dinner, Ross," He simply cut her off, setting off down the hall obviously laughing to himself, the girl hurrying after him, leaving Ross stood there like a blushing girl. The hallway was hardly empty. Servants quickly turned back to their business, though it was obvious they had seen, and no doubt his hilarious joke would have travelled around the castle by nightfall.

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a breath, unsure whether to be angry or amused. Both, perhaps.

Everyone here knew of course that Jaime was the father of Ren and Morganna. But it was one thing to hear about it, and another thing to see their dignified, stony-faced lady alongside the Kingslayer himself, who seemed to be trying to flirt with her like she was a swooning maiden, purely for his own amusement.

What does it matter now, part of her was saying, pushing against the part of her where secrecy had been deeply ingrained for so long. It concerns no one. She had no husband, no father, no brothers to be angry. She wasn't betrothed or sworn to another. She was technically the most powerful person in the North.

Fuck it. She had spent enough time dancing to the rules and expectations of others. If anyone was brave enough to take the matter up with her, then she would deal with that when it came to it, whether they were her family (most likely) or not.

*

Edited November 2024

I know the Wildling army would have likely reached the Wall before this point in canon - please give me some artistic licence here haha, it fits better with this story if they arrive later on.

Also, Ross and Jaime reunite! That scene in the courtyard was a joy to write. 

What do you think of how things have turned out at Winterfell? Next chapter Jaime brings updates from the south along with some interesting news.

Hope you enjoyed this and thanks for reading, and all the lovely comments/reviews! I appreciate every single one so much, it really encourages me to keep writing.