Sansa Stark stood looking down upon the Winterfell castle courtyard where the men busily worked below fortifying the castle for a harsh winter and perhaps an approaching war. It was just after sunrise and the day had yet fully started, but she escaped the dining room quickly this morning hoping to avoid Little finger... and his eyes.
Sansa had managed to spend the last several years escaping one gilded cage only to find herself in another. She had thought at Winter fell, where she was now the Lady of the house during Jon's long absence, she could escape him. But Littlefinger had become the walking breath embodiment of that cage. The incorrigible man always seemed to be everywhere... making himself useful, looming in the corner like an unwanted shadow. Always subtly reminding her that she owed him a debt.
The fact that she was indebted to that man for anything, set her stomach on fire. But Sansa was born to be a lady. So she knew how to keep her true feelings and emotions hidden away from men. Prim. Proper. Never bothered. The only sign of the wild fire that burned within her was the brilliant red hair that lay strewn against her heavy black fur coat.
Sansa sought out all of the spots in the Castle and below that Little finger had yet to find. He found her only when and where she wanted to be found. She knew Winterfell better than him. This was her ancestral home after all. But ever since she returned home she had felt as if she knew this place even better now than when she left as a child. It was as if she had been here all along. Hiding in the dark corners of the drafty castle, discovering all of its remaining secrets.
She stood still and then she paced. She was restless again. She felt locked up against her will. Her thoughts were being pulled in several different directions. Far away from Winter fell. Partly to the south where Jon had headed and partly to the north where some new mysterious threat had begun to form.
A voice cleared nervously. "There is a disturbance at the gate, ma'am."
She hardened her face and her voice as she was approached for instruction by one of the castle guards. She turned her sharp green eyes on him and narrowed them slightly. The men. Her men. Had a healthy amount of fear in her presence. She saw it flash in the man's eyes as her cold stare appraised him. "Is it Ghost? Has he come back?"
"No ma'am... umm..." He stuttered. "It's a girl."
"A girl?" Sansa frowned. She was growing impatient and wished the man would just spit it out. She brushed past him and headed back down the corridor towards the stairs. "Send her away. We're too busy for distractions."
"The girl says..." The guard continued. "Well she says she's your sister. Arya Stark."
Sansa stopped mid stride. Arya.
She would love to say that she hadn't thought about her wild little sister since she ran away after their father was killed. The name brought an odd mixture of anger and longing to her heart. She sucked in a breath to stop her heart beating wildly in her chest.
Years ago, Nymeria, Arya's Dire wolf had run away after attacking Jeffery Borathian in defense of Arya. Leaving Sansa's wolf Lady behind to take the blame and be killed in her place. This had all but foreshadowed the course of the two sisters lives moving forward. Not long after, Arya ran away and left Sansa in King's Landing to bare the blame and the burden of that viper pit. The longing for a reunion with her little sister was clouded by resentment. And the undeniable fact that the part of Sansa who had once been a gentle Lady, no longer existed. She was slit and had bled out long ago.
Sansa raised her head and replied. "Take me to her."
----
This girl who called herself Arya could have been Sansa's sister. She had her dark inquisitive eyes. The same Stark brown hair and dusty coloring. But she was much older but the right age. Much more controlled and calculated but still rough around the edges. The wild dreaming was gone from this girl's eyes. But it had been years since they both stood in the same room. Sansa felt it could go either way.
