A fic I posted to ao3. Canon divergence. 3k.
They just need to make it north. To Jon.
It takes Arya nearly five years before she manages to smuggle Sansa out of King’s Landing, and when she does the Boltons hold Winterfell, most of her family is long gone, Jon is the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, and Sansa…
Sansa is not as she was.
She never will be again.
“For the Watch. For the Watch. For the Watch.”
Arya twitches. Three moons, they’ve been on the road, and she’s no closer to making sense of her sister’s mutterings than she was when she’d broken into her cell in the dungeons beneath the Red Keep, Sansa pale and nude, knees close to her chest as she whispered, “Fire and blood. Fire and blood.” She’d been staring straight ahead, at the claw marks littering the stone wall, and when she turned her head to look at Arya, she showed no surprise at seeing her. No shock, no joy, no relief. No nothing.
Only; “Fire and blood.”