17 Chapter 17: Sansa Stark

Winterfell is a legendary castle, as is the family that calls it their ancestral home. The Starks trace back thousands of years ago, all the way to their ancestor Bran the Builder from the Age of Heroes. With a history as long as that, predating the dragons Aegon the Conqueror used to invade Westeros, was it possible that the Starks never wielded magic themselves?

Jon shook his head, looming over Arya's unconscious body. Starks had most certainly experienced magic before, and if not firsthand, they had at the very least witnessed the magic of the children of the forest. It was always a mystery to him. Throughout the many generations of Starks, every generation had at least one person who was stronger, more irrational and wilder than their fellow brethren.

The trait had been nicknamed, 'Wolfblood', used to refer to Starks that were the complete opposite from their cold and melancholy family. In all of the books detailing the various past generations of Stark children, every single one had at least one child that was completely opposite to their siblings. Could this possibly be a coincidence?

Jon didn't know. He himself didn't think he acted irrationally like a wild animal. He didn't think he was prone to make decisions that were rash and he didn't have any wild physical characteristics, at least, he didn't before using magic on himself. But strangely enough, Arya seemed to posses some of the characteristics that were associated with wolfblood.

Firstly, Arya was strong, much stronger than any girl her age should be. It was true that she descended from the Stark bloodline, but Jon didn't find Eddard to be particularly physically powerful. No, it had to be something in Arya that made her unique. While he himself was much stronger than his peers, his strength came from rigorous training and sacrilegious ancient magic, unlike Arya who simply seemed genetically superior to him.

There was also something else to Arya beyond just her genetics. That being her talent with weaponry. He had taken the time to teach Arya how to use a bow, and it was incredible how quickly she managed to learn and improve her skill with it. This wasn't something that could be called simply being naturally gifted. Jon knew what a naturally gifted person was like, he and Robb were prime examples of natural prodigies.

But Arya was beyond the level of a simple genius. Her talent with a bow could be called inhuman, likely because it was. It was inhumane how well she could aim without ever having picked up a bow in her life. Before, Jon was only mildly interested by Arya, but after tasting a bit of magic, he truly felt that something was wrong with Arya as a whole.

He had a sneaking suspicion that Arya's talent wasn't simply a natural byproduct but something magical that ran through her blood, something that made her better than everyone else, including him. And he would be damned if he let such a valuable opportunity to learn more about magic go to waste. Melisandre always said there was power in the blood of a king. Eddard is no king, but king's blood runs through his viens. It was time to see if the red witch was full of shit.

Jon looked back to Arya and closely studied her features. Speaking truthfully, there wasn't much to look at. Her body still hadn't developed so she had little muscle, but there was something mystical about her that made him feel like she was special somehow. With one hand, he carefully drew a dagger from his waist, and lined it up against Arya's middle finger.

With a very gentle pull, he slowly cut away at a layer of her skin and a small droplet of blood appeared. Jon pulled the vial on his neck and collected as much blood as he could, making sure to squeeze out as much out as possible. After half an hour, the blood drops slowly but surely filled the vial, eventually filling up to the top where Jon sealed the vial off.

Jon quietly crept out of Arya's room just as daylight broke through the night sky. The soft yellow hues shone on the horizon, and he knew that the time had finally come. He grabbed the small vial of blood hanging on his neck and neatly tucked it away, making sure that nothing was visible over his black gold accented doublet.

"You weren't going to see me before you left, were you?" Jon paused as he walked down the hall, turning around just enough to see a young girl, pale faced with large blue eyes and dark red hair styled into braids adorned with beautiful rubies and emeralds. "I thought you wouldn't want to see me Sansa. Apologies if I offended you."

The girl's sharp eyebrows squinted in anger. Due to her age, this action could only be considered cute by Jon, not threatening as Sansa no doubt thought she was. "It's not as if I wanted to see you off. I have no qualms over your departure, I was just worried you'd fill Arya's head with misguided thoughts before you left."

Jon winked at her with a cheeky white smile. Sansa could usually keep her noble lady training intact, but occasionally she would crack and show her real emotions. "If anything, Arya is the negative influence, not me. Don't tell me my dear sweet sister missed her brother so much she came to find me at the brink of sunrise just to see me off."

Sansa's face lit up like a firework, exploding in fiery hot red that flushed her cheeks to the point that they looked like juicy red apples. "N-no, I just felt bad because of what mother did to you. D-don't think I'm doing this for any other reason." She stuttered. But it was obvious even she couldn't delude herself to believe that was the reason she came to find him.

Jon truly felt accomplished as he looked at Sansa's embarrassed red face. This girl had been a pain in the ass, but what happened yesterday seemed to break new grounds in their relationship. It was a pity. Jon wouldn't be here to take advantage of it. Still, he could make the most of the situation here.

Just in case, he had prepared a few gifts for his family members beforehand. "Don't think I wasn't going to visit you Sansa. I have a gift for you as well." Jon quickly opened the sack he had over his shoulder and pulled out an incredibly gorgeous white dress, fit for a girl about Sansa's age. It had silver lacing and dozens of different shades of white, reflecting in the breaking sunlight like a dress made of pure diamonds. The shading of the dress made it look ethereal, as if it was meant to be worn by a magical princess.

"I believe the princess of the North deserves a gown worthy of her title." Jon said as he draped the dress over Sansa's body. She looked at him in pure shock, her face somehow managing to grow even redder. He leaned over and spoke directly into her ear as her eyes, filled with amazement, stared at the dress in awe. "When I come back, I'll bring you a tiara."