The Warden's Duty

Laien had never been so tired in all her life. Her arms were sore from holding the reins of her horse for so long, her legs were sore from disuse, her bottom and legs were so so she nearly cried with every stamp of her Sand Steed's hooves. This was a good arrangement, she had reminded herself so many times she lost count. She remembered the look on her dear father's face before she left home, telling not she was doing a great service to her people.

Laien found it hard to continue their journey many times. She'd been surviving on blood oranges and dried meats the entire journey, and knew that when she finally arrived in Winterfell that the food would be just as bad, if not even worse.

Dread had began to build in the young viper's veins. In the back of her mind, Laien was terrified. She'd never show it, of course, that was not the Dornish way but she allowed herself to feel it as they traveled through along their icy trail.

"Prince Lhars," one of the men that flanked her hollered through the nearly blinding snow. Her brother pulled on the reigns of his horse, his dark eyes moving past his little sister to land on the man who spoke. Lhars tilted his head, so the man continued."We are just outside the castle gates."

Lhars gave a nod and motioned for the crowd to continue ahead of them. Laien allowed the rest of the people to pass her so they could have a moment to speak.

"You are sure of your decision, Sister?" Lhars prodded gently. "You desire to live out the rest of your days smothered in snow and ice?"

Laien winced. "I would prefer be warmed by the sun in the Water Gardens, Lhars, you know this. Father will have allies in the North now - an ally with close ties to the Queen herself. I have not agreed to this decision blindly, dear brother. Dorne will reap the benefits of my marriage."

"It will be lonely at Sunspear without you." Lhars admitted.

Laien nodded, cursing the tears that threatened to flood her eyes. "As lonely, I imagine, as this barren ice field without you."

Lhars gave her a tiny smile, his hands tightening on the reigns he held. "If Lord Sno- Targaryen harms you I shall be the first to run a spear through his chest."

"Haven't you heard? The Starks who raised Lord Targaryen were among the most honorable people in Westeros. He shall not harm me, Brother. I will have slit his throat long before he raises a hand to me. I am my own protector."

"Yes, a viper true to her name, I suppose." Lhars chuckled. "Come sister, before the Lord and Lady think us dead."



It took two moons and a half for House Qorgyle to arrive at Winterfell's gates.

Sansa was awaiting their arrival, having been on edge since they'd written her back - the new ruler of Dorne had happily agreed and his two children were sent at once to join their houses. Jon still didn't know about their treaty, and Sansa just knew that he would threaten to have her head at first, but perhaps he could grow to love his new wife, just as mother grew to love her father.

The gates were opened and the crowd of Dornishmen rode in on their horses. Sansa didn't think she'd ever seen a horse look like the ones they rode - they were slimmer than most she'd seen, with long necks and narrow heads. Their colors ranged from the darkest of blacks to reds and one horse that was as pale as the snow it trampled on.

The woman atop said horse was a beautiful young thing, her thick, dark hair pulled into a single braid. Her fingers were gloved in a thick material, and the furs of the north rather out of place on the young woman.

A man who looked only a few years older than the girl on the pale horse rode before Sansa. He unmounted his horse with ease and stepped forward, his dark eyes meeting her own. "I am Prince Lhars, my Lady, son of Arron Qorgyle, the newly appointed ruler of Dorne."

"Prince Lhars," Sansa bowed her head politely. "Welcome to Winterfell. I hope your journey wasn't as unpleasant as we'd expected."

The dark haired man matched her bow, then stood to his full height and reach out his hand with a brilliant smile. Sansa obliged and blushed when he placed a small kiss to her knuckles.

"Fear not, my lady. We've arrived with everyone in tact." Lhars grinned. "There are three wagons of food and supplies outside your gates, just as we promised. When the marriage has taken place we will send them more frequently."

Sansa felt relief run through her and nearly cried right there into the snow. "Let us go inside the castle," she offered, her voice strained with emotion. "I will introduce you to Lord Targaryen."

Sansa watched as the Princess of Dorne's feet crunched down onto the snow as she dismounted her steed gracefully. Laien shivered and pulled her fur lined cloak tighter to her, desperate for the warmth it offered. Sansa nearly smiled as she remembered how cold it felt coming home for the first time, it was a great relief for her, but she could only imagine how bitter it felt for the Dornish woman.

Laien was beautiful, Sansa marveled as she approached her, with her long dark hair and eyes to match, and although she looked out of place against the ice and snow, Sansa couldn't help but think that Jon would be pleased, at least by the look, of his intended.

"Lady Sansa, I present to you my sister, Princess Laien of Sunspear." Lhars introduced.

Sansa bowed her head, again. "It's my pleasure to meet you, Princess Laien."

Laien too bowed her head, taking in the red haired woman before her. "The pleasure is mine, my lady."

"Let us get inside," Sansa said once more, "lest we catch our deaths out here."



Jon sat in the conference area, just as Sansa bade him to do, waiting tirelessly on his cousin to enter.

He had only just returned from a hunt with a group of Wildlings, another desperate attempt to find food in the barren Northern woods, when she rushed to him. The hunt had only produced two deer, enough to feed one family for not even a week with the ravenous hunger that plagued his people.

The thought discouraged Jon. Maybe the madman was right, he thought begrudgingly, maybe they'd all die the horrible deaths they were so afraid of. Jon had spent many hours in the Godswood praying for relief and mercy for everyone.

What had Sansa said she needed him here for? She had been acting queer for the past few weeks, and Jon knew that she had been hiding something from him. He didn't know whether he wanted to be let in on her secret or not - with Littlefinger no longer around to try to bend her mind to his will Jon knew it couldn't be as bad as some of the things he'd suggested to her.

The doors to the room screeched open, surprising him greatly, and revealed his cousin walking toward him, a group of Dornishmen at her back.

Jon's eyebrows raised high onto his forehead, his lips parting in a wordless question.

"Jon," Sansa began, her voice strong. Jon didn't think he'd seen Sansa look more confident during the entirety of that long winter as she did in that moment. Her eyes were full of hope, and her moth twitched into a small smile. "I've invited House Qortyle to our home to discuss a barter. They've agreed to send food every moon from today until the long winter is over and our crops can grow again."

Jon stood quickly, his head spinning with the news. "On what terms?"

The young man in the front of the crowd bowed, his charming smile still plastered onto his face. "The joining of our houses, my lord."

"Who's agreed to the betrothal?" Jon asked quietly, his eyes boring into Sana's.

Sansa said nothing, but cast her eyes down onto the stone floor beneath them. Jon waited for her to answer, but her response never came.

"So you had no intention of marrying my sister, Lord Targaryen?" The black haired man asked, an eyebrow cocked at Jon. "We've ridden all this way for you to deny us what has already been agreed upon?"

Sansa grabbed his arm, her grip like a feather. "Jon, if you do not agree to this we will all die. We are, as the man said, living on borrowed time."

Jon pinched the bridge of his nose, and a long sigh left his lips before he spoke again.

"I agree."