| ♆ | “I know there must be much on your mind...
and we have never met before and all things considered,
there is little reason for you to trust me. However ---
Theon was my brother. Please, permit me to speak
with the Lady of Winterfell who burned him with honor.”
It had been a long journey from the Iron Islands. It took time for information to travel and more time for ships to sail. The last body to fall at the Battle of Winterfell hit the ground weeks and weeks ago and only now did Yara get the chance to leave the Iron Islands --- which she had successfully taken back --- to sail forth up the rivers of the frigid North to Winterfell. It was an almost foolishly sentimental choice, leaving the Islands that she had only recently taken, but it had to be done.
Her brother had died in Winterfell, so very far from the sea. She hadn’t been there to push him into the salt and waves, as she should have. Lady Sansa Stark was there instead. And Yara wished to speak with her.
The state of the world was precarious right now. As the two heads of the remaining major Houses in the North, there were matters to attend to, at least from Yara’s perspective. And as the slate-eyed Greyjoy waited for the Stark’s response and took in her appearance, the lightly falling snow littered her gray armor and salt-dulled brown hair.
