Winter In My Heart | ROBB STARK.

LVII. A Renegade King

"Daenerys can't afford to burn any of the Northern Lords, Lord Tiernan," Sansa reassured him with an amused smirk.

"You tell Aegon the Conqueror that, we all know what happened to my ancestor," he huffed, straightening his posture and attempting to look strong again.

"Your only claim to fame," she teased, waiting for him to join her at her side so they could travel down to the courtyard.

"I'll have you know, Fianna is one of the most feared people in the Seven Kingdoms," he raised his eyebrows, offering his elbow for her to hold.

"Yes, Fianna. But you're not Fianna, are you?" She continued, holding back a chuckle at his offended expression. He truly embodied every Northern characteristic - stubborn, and overly protective.

"I'll have you know, Lady Sansa," he sputtered, struggling to come up with a response. "There's blood on my hands!"

"Your own, I'd bet," she turned to walk backwards, so she could drop her eye in a playful wink. When she faced forward again, he was grinning madly out of her eye line.

Rickon, Bran and a number of other Lords were already waiting when they arrived. Arya was nowhere to be seen, but Sansa had long since learned not to force Arya into doing anything formal that she simply didn't want to do. Jon and Arya would talk about Daenerys in their own time.

"Hi," Tiernan caught her attention before she took her place aside her brothers, "if you need me to back you up at any point, just look at me. Okay?"

Sansa nodded at him, thankful that she would have him at her defence - even though she didn't think she'd need him. She knew how to handle power-hungry Queens by now.

It wasn't long after that their guests had reached the welcoming party, and immediately Sansa's eyes were drawn to the snowy white hair of what would probably prove to be her biggest foe in times to come. But first, they would have to be allies.

The redhead snapped out of her daze as Jon's black mop of hair moved past her, crouching beside Bran and hugging him tightly in greeting.

"You're a man now," Jon sniffed, leaning back and looking over his features.

"Almost," Bran simply replied, and she held back a snicker. If Jon expected much emotion from their little brother, he was looking at the wrong sibling.

Rickon was next in line, who gave Jon a much more welcoming embrace, the elder of the two ruffling his hair cheekily.

When he got to Sansa, his smile became a little tighter upon noticing her stoic expression. He should have known she'd be the coolest of them all when it came to his abdication.

Nevertheless, he leaned in to hug her. Sansa's eyes met Daenerys' over his shoulder, watching as the blonde stared at the scene almost protectively. Perhaps Robb had been right to suspect there was something going on between the two.

"Where's Arya?" Jon prompted after letting her go, regaining her attention. This time, Sansa analysed Jon's features. They had placed so much hope onto him, and now he had squandered so much of it.

"Lurking somewhere," she answered, raising an eyebrow as Jon beckoned for Daenerys to approach them. The Targaryen was full of smiles as she approached Sansa, who stood a good head taller. Not at all intimidated by her appearance, she spoke as if they were friends getting re-acquainted.