Chapter Text
Robb Stark wakes to the stars above him and the cold snow to his back.
His neck is stiff as he looks around, eyes squinting in the dim light to make out the god’s wood of Winterfell.
He moves to sit up, head spinning, and the memories flood his consciousness.
A wedding feast, a betrayal, Talisa and his unborn child are killed, then his mother, and then the memory of a sharp blade piercing his chest. The Lannisters send their regards.
He keels over in the snow, heaving bile from an empty stomach.
“Robb?”
He turns his head towards the voice, still panting on the ground.
His mother stands there in the same grey dress she had worn that day, eyes haunted as she looks down at her son. To her right stands Eddard Stark, hand resting protectively on his wife’s shoulder.
“What is the meaning of this?” Robb asks, standing slowly, his legs weak underneath him.
“I don’t know son” answers Ned Stark, “but we best make for the keep, we will find no answers here”
The walk is short, and travel is eased by the firm snow, allowing them to walk without falling through. As they approach the castle Rob cannot shake the feeling that something is amiss.
His worries are only confirmed when they enter the Winterfell courtyard to what looks to be the aftermath of a battle. Exchanging wary looks they continue inside the keep.
The great hall shows signs of a feast, floors sticky with ale. Scattered around the room are stragglers from last night's festivities, snoring on the floor and hunched over tables.
Robb finds a pitcher of water, dumping it on the head of the nearest man, who until then had been passed out on a bench, face down in his plate snoring soundly.
The man wakes with a start, sputtering and swinging. Once he has calmed down Rob grabs him by the shoulders.
“What happened here?” He asks the stranger, “Are there still starks in Winterfell?”
“Starks? Aye, Lord and Lady Stark retired to their rooms not long ago” answers the man, already falling back to sleep.
Robb leaves the man, relief flooding him. Not wasting any time, he makes for the lord’s chambers, his parents at his heel.
He wonders at who could still be at Winterfell. Was Sansa not still in King’s Landing? Could it be Bran or Arya?
He does not hesitate before bursting through the doors to the familiar rooms.
What he sees stops him in his tracks.
Before him on the bed are Sansa and Jon. Sansa’s bare back is to them, red hair flowing across the bed spread, her head on Jon’s chest. Jon, awoken by their entrance, sits up with a start, scrambling to push a groggy Sansa behind him, pulling the sheet up to cover them both.
“Robb? Lady Catelyn? Ned? What-“Jon starts, but Rob cuts him off, vision going red.
“Why…are you in bed with our sister?” Robb snaps, advancing on Jon
His father stops him, hand grabbing him by the shoulder, turning Robb away from the scene before them.
“Robb. Son. You need to calm down” Ned cautions, earning an incredulous look from his lady wife.
“Calm down?! How could you say that? He has dishonored my sister! Your daughter!”
But before Ned can answer Arya’s voice sounds from an adjacent room.
“Oi! What’s all the fuss about!? It’s the hour of the wolf for gods’ sake and I’ve had far too much ale, you better not be shagging again!”
She bursts through the door, eyes widening when she notices the new arrivals
“Father? Mother? Robb?” she asks, frozen to the spot, her voice wavering.
“Arya” her father says, and she is running to them.
Their greeting is joyful, but he can tell there is something different about Arya, something harder. She is undeniably older and more reserved in her affections, and there is a grace in the way she moves and caution in the way she surveys them, something that was certainly not there before.
When her eyes finally fall on Sansa and Jon, still huddled on the bed, watching the happy reunion with obvious discomfort she breaks out in a riotous laugh. Her mirth only intensifies when she registers the blatant disgust at the display from her parents and brother.
“Are you quite finished?” Sansa clips in that haughty, irate tone that is so familiar.
“This must be a lot to get used to, isn’t it?” Arya says to them, her laughter finally ebbing. “They really are quite disgusting, all happy and kissing everywhere you look! Especially after that whole sibling thing eugh”
Sansa rolls her eyes at Arya’s words.
Cat steps forward, looking on her favorite daughter, revulsion plain on her features.
“And pray why would you think this is acceptable?! What are you? Lannisters!? I thought I raised you better than that! Have you fallen so low?”
He can see the second her words reach Sansa, how they wound the younger woman, her eyes lowering in shame.
“You don’t understand-“ Jon tries to cut in.
“And don’t get me started on you!” Catelyn hisses, turning on Jon. Any sadness that may have been present when she was talking to Sansa was gone, replaced with a white-hot rage.
“I knew it was a mistake letting a filthy bastard into my home and look what you’ve done! You’ve desecrated our marriage bed and defiled my eldest daughter! You’ve ruined her with your disgusting, incestuous urges! I will have your head for this”
Jon, who had until then been struggling to pull on a pair of breeches, stands and walks around the bed. He approaches Catelyn like she is a wounded bear, hands out in front him, voice soft.
Sansa shifts in bed, pulling the sheet up more firmly. In doing so her hair falls down her back, revealing what is clearly a bite mark on the curve of her shoulder.
Suddenly it sounds like Jon is speaking from a great distance away as Robb’s blood heats with a renewed fury.
“I love her and I would never disrespect her- “Jon’s words are cut off when Rob’s fist meets his jaw.
As his fist connects with Jon’s face again and again he thinks he can hear Sansa screaming at him to stop, but he does not heed her words.
Robb’s hands are around Jon’s neck now, the other man’s face turning red.
“Robb!” He chokes “I’m not her brother!”
Robb’s grip loosens, looking down at Jon who struggles to catch his breath.
“Gods Robb I’m not her brother, Ned lied to you, I’m Lyana’s son…. Lyana and Rheagar’s son”
“Lyana’s son?” Cat says, turning to look at her husband in disbelief.
The guilty looks she finds there is all the confirmation she needs.
“You knew? After all these years….” Catelyn’s voice falters as she struggles to understand this recent revelation. Confusion, betrayal and profound sadness are all laid bare across her face.
“I will be sleeping in the guest wing” she announces without looking up. “We shall break fast together in the morning”
When Ned goes to leave with her, she stops him.
“No” Cat tells him, a gentle hand on his chest. “I-I need time”
And then she is gone
Sansa empties the hot water into the basin and carries it to where Jon sits before the fire.
She sighs when she sees his face. His eye has swollen, and his lip is cut, bruises bloom quickly across his cheek bone and neck.
“I will have to fetch some snow for swelling” she tells him, dabbing his bloodied lip with a warm cloth.
“I can’t believe they’re back” he says.
She does not acknowledge his words, too absorbed in her task.
“Sansa” he says softly, reaching up to grab her wrist. “Are you ok?”
He holds her hands in his own, eyes thoughtful as he searches her face.
“They’ll understand tomorrow” he assures her, “ right now they’re just confused and scared. The stranger somehow thought to bring them back and there is so much they’ve missed. You are my lady wife and I love you. They’ll see that. We’ll make them see that. Its just a bit of a shock right now is all” he tells her, hand dropping to cradle her round belly.
“Now how about I take you to bed and make you forget all about this nightmare of an evening hhhmm?” He says, standing up, hands smoothing down her back.
“How can you possibly think of that after what just happened?” She shoots back. Although her expression is scandalized, he can hear the smile in her voice.
Blowing out the last of the candles he brings her to bed, and for the first time since they married her words are whispered and her sighs are carefully muffled.
The second her eyes open Sansa is running for her chamber pot. Knees hitting the stone floor, she leans forward and expels the measly contents of her stomach.
Jon is standing over her, no doubt woken by the sound of her retching, and holds her hair, rubbing her back soothingly.
When Sansa is done, she sits back, looking up at him.
“This does not bode well for the coming day” she tells him, eyes apprehensive.
“Oh come now it is merely the babe, he obviously takes after his mother”
She narrows her eyes and allows him a small smile as she moves to stand.
The rest of their family is already in the solar when they arrive, and four sets of eyes look to them as they enter. Sansa watches, nervous as Cat takes in all of her, the older woman gasping when she sees Sansa’s rounded middle.
“Oh Sansa” Catelyn Stark sighs before rushing to embrace her daughter.
Tears are running down her cheeks now, holding tight to her mother. Catelyn is no better, the usually stoic northern lady holds her tight, crying and apologizing profusely.
When her mother finally releases her, proper greetings are made, and food is set out on the long table.
When they are all seated, Robb clears his throat before addressing Sansa and Jon.
“I would be wont to pretend that seeing the two of you together isn’t strange. While you were never close as children, I still see you as siblings, and although your union isn’t as…unsavory as I had initially believed, it will take some time to get used to.”
Sansa, ever the politician, responds with a small smile and a nod, “thank you, brother. That means a great deal.”
“Now” She continues, “there is much to learn if you wish to understand the current state of the realm”.
Jon holds her hand in his own as they look upon the family members they had once thought lost and the three younger Starks begin to weave the unlikely tale of events that have come to pass in the years since their deaths