"Come on," Laul said dragging Sansa through the halls by her hand. "Let me at least give you a proper lesson for once. Let them see you training with the rest of us. It's only right now you're letting your girls train as well."
"That was Jon's decision," she said with a frown. He hadn't consulted her on that, or anything else lately.
"And it was one of his best yet," Rila said with a grin. "Smarter than any kneeler before him if he's the first to think of it."
Sansa laughed. "I doubt he's the first to think of it. Just the first to make it known he expects it."
Making their way to the training yard she heard the clang of steel and saw a small crowd gathered. Her stomach twisted, not surprised that when they moved around to find Jon with a blunted sword in hand. He held up his shield to block blows from Rickon swinging his own blunted sword at Jon with a grunt for every thrust and slash.
"Come on, lower. Don't go where I am, go where you want me to go, where I'm open."
Rickon groaned when Jon brought his shield forward, knocking Rickon's sword back. "You don't have openings!"
Jon laughed. "You know that's a lie, but if you don't think I do then make them. Force one for yourself."
She watched Rickon throw his shield aside, gripping his sword with two hands and putting more power into each strike. He barely got his third out before Jon lightly thrust his foot into Rickon's stomach, making him stumble back.
"If you're going to fight two handed you can't be angry. Without a shield you need to be twice as careful, twice as sharp. Everything you do has to be offense and defense."
"You're never angry in a fight?" Rickon asked wiping away the few bits of mud Jon got on his jerkin.
Sansa noticed him glance toward two free folk girls stood watching, two girls Jon told her were the daughters of a free folk chieftess who died at Hardhome. They'd come with Tormund, who seemed to care for them, leaving them at Winterfell with Jon. The sisters stood with some of the younger residents of Winterfell, including Lyanna Mormont who arched her brow, her gaze more on Jon while the elder free folk girl flashed Rickon a brief smile.
Jon chuckled. "I'm always angry during a fight. I just control it. Angry men are dumb men more often then not, but if you control it then you can use it. Let it make you stronger, push you through pain and exhaustion." Seeing Rickon's frustration, Jon walked over to squeezed the boy's shoulder, leaning in slightly. "You can do this. It just takes time, but keep it up and people will fear you with a sword more than they do Ghost. Though he looks ridiculous with a sword."
Rickon laughed, as did half the crowd while Jon backed away and waved for him to attack.
Watching him twist and shift to block Rickon's attacks, Laul let out an appreciative, "Mmm."
"He isn't too bad for a kneeler," Rila said, grinning as she continued, "wouldn't mind showing him how I look kneeling."
Sansa gasped. "Rila!"
Laul nodded. "I'd rather see him kneel."
"Hopefully his last wife trained him well," said Rila.
Sansa turned to her. "What? His last wife?"
Rila nodded. "Back when he was a crow he took a free woman, shared skins with her. Tormund talked about it. He was a green boy until Ygritte got to him."
Jon caught Rickon's sword on his shield, but Rickon thrust his shield to Jon's stomach, making him take a step back to avoid it. That was when Rickon dashed forward, letting his sword slide up Jon's shield, set to slam into Jon's cheek if he hadn't moved his head at the last moment.
The onlookers gasped but Jon laughed, reaching over to smack Rickon's shoulder with his sword. "Good!"
Rickon's eyes flickered toward the crowd, where he spotted Sansa and grinned, standing straight and waving at her. Sansa offered a small wave in return, but when Jon turned to look at her Sansa's smile fell.
"Maybe we can train tomorrow," she said heading back inside, leaving Laul and Rila to share confused looks.
When Brienne and her group returned to Winterfell Sansa was among those gathered to greet them. While many were surely interested in the proof her band carried, Sansa was equally pleased to see her companions north return safely.
"Lady Sansa," she said with a bow.
"You've been missed, Brienne," Sansa said with a smile.
It always made Sansa sad to see such a simple thing make Brienne smile as though she'd never experienced it before, unsure how to respond. "You as well, my lady."
With a kindly smile, Sansa looked to the satchel hanging on Brienne's hip. "Is that it?"
Brienne placed a hand over it and nodded. "Samwell said this was everything he could find, though from the size of the Citadel I wouldn't be surprised if there's more somewhere in there."
"I'm sure it will be enough."
Brienne nodded, looking through the crowd. "His grace?"
"Busy, I imagine," she said. Staying away so I can greet you without feeling uncomfortable around him, Sansa thought. "He should be in his solar. I'm sure he'd welcome your return there."
"Then I will be on my way to him," Brienne said with a nod, making her way inside as Sansa welcomed Podrick back.
Knocking on his door Brienne entered when he called to her and found him turning in the chair as his desk. A brief smile took his lips. "Welcome back, Brienne."
"Thank you, your grace."
"How was your journey?" He asked rising from his chair. "Not too hard, I hope?"
"Of course not," she said shaking her head. "It was brisk, but the Citadel is nearly as awe inspiring as the Wall."
Jon smirked, "But not Oldtown?"
She looked down, surprised he'd caught that. "It's a city as any other. Interesting in it's own way."
Jon nodded. "And Sam? Gilly? Little Sam?"
"All well. Sam seemed a little tired, but determined to be of use. He worried after you as well."
"Of course he did," Jon said with a fond laugh. "I'm sure if I wrote to him he'd risk losing his chains and his head to come console me." Shaking his head, he looked to the satchel. "That it?"
"It is." She carefully removed the bag, setting it on his desk and opening it. As he pulled them out she picked her memory for what Sam had told her of each. "That's the High Septon's journal. That's a record of annulment. A record of marriage. That's a log from the Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, with… I forget the rest," Brienne sighed. "He said he'd copied all the instances of Targaryens without the traditional colored hair and eyes to show it's not especially uncommon."
Once they were unpacked he looked the documents over with a nod. "I hope it's enough."
"Shall I send the maester?"
Jon shook his head, sinking into his chair. "No. I'd like to take some time and think over my words once I've read it all."
"Of course."
"Thank you, Brienne," he said looking to the female knight. "I trusted no one more with this than you. You've never failed to make me think my trust in you well placed, with this and Sansa. Thank you."
Brienne felt her chest stir, giving a quick nod. "Thank you, your grace."
"Go rest, get warm and enjoy some decent food," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes as he turned toward the desk. "And let them know I'll take my supper here again, if you could."
Brienne's brow furrowed as she took the implication that it had become a frequent occurrence, but nodded before departing.
Night came and Sansa sat at the high table with Rickon and a few other lords while others occupied the lower tables. Jon's seat beside her remained empty, as it had for nearly a week while he took his meals in his solar.
Seeing Brienne approach, Sansa perked up, smiling to her sworn sword as she took her seat beside Sansa. "You look rested."
"I am," she said pleasantly. "It's nice to be in fresh clothes after a bath."
Sansa laughed. "I still have dreams of that first bath at Castle Black."
"I'd feared you'd fallen asleep," Brienne said with a smirk, remembering how she'd been so relieved when Sansa answered her knock after hours in the tub the Night's Watch gave her.
"I might have if I wasn't so anxious." Sansa sighed. "I can't decide if I long for another bath that feels that good or dread what I'd have to go through for it to be matched."
Brienne smiled, nodding to the maid that poured her wine. "How have you been, my lady?"
"Busy," she sighed. "I spend half my day wondering if my parents had to deal with anything like the problems we do, wondering how they would handle them."
"I'm sure you've been doing as well as they would have."
Sansa set down her goblet after taking a drink. "Every day it feels like I'm trying to grasp at water to drain a stream, barely keeping any in hand while it never stops."
Brienne glanced to the empty chair between Sansa and Rickon, thinking back to the image of Jon sat alone at his desk in his solar. "And the king?"
Sansa's exhausted expression grew to a frown. "He's… preparing for the wars to come," she said without an ounce of conviction. "It's kept him busy."
"Hm," Brienne nodded, failing to hide her doubt.
Sansa frowned, gripping her knee. She knew it was a poor lie, but what else could she say? That their king had taken to solitude so he didn't have to see her, or even worse, to spare her having to be forced to sit beside him. That she'd ruined the little happiness they had since leaving Castle Black. That some awful part of her was glad he was upset, because it would hurt even more if he just showed up as if nothing had happened. As if she'd never mattered.
Was that what she wanted? To not matter anymore? If she kept this up he would show up and she would hate herself more than she already did. Could she bare losing him just because she thought it was the right thing to do?
Was it really easier to be alone and settle than to face whatever ever came together?