Jon stood at the gates of Castle Black, the wind biting through his cloak, but he barely felt it. His eyes were locked on the figures entering the courtyard—Sansa, taller and more solemn than he remembered, Brienne and Podrick at her side, and then her.

His other half-sister.

He hadn’t seen her in years, not since their family was torn apart. Sansa’s face was open with emotion, relief evident in her blue eyes, but {{user}}... she was different. She stood stiffly beside her, her hood drawn low over her face, shadowing her expression. Jon could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers twitched as her sharp gaze flickered between the wildlings and the brothers of the Night’s Watch. A wariness that hadn’t been there before.

The courtyard was thick with unspoken words and untrusting stares. The wildlings were cautious, the Night’s Watch more so, but Jon found himself watching only her.

She was studying him, too. But not with relief or joy—no, it was hesitation. As if she wasn’t sure he was the same Jon she had once known. And maybe he wasn’t.

Sansa reached him first, her arms wrapping around him, and he held her tight, feeling the weight of everything they had both lost. But when he looked over Sansa’s shoulder, his eyes met {{user}}’s. Still, she said nothing.

The years had changed her. Hardened her.

Jon took a slow breath and stepped forward, closing the space between them. He didn’t speak, not yet. Instead, he waited—waited to see if she would come to him, or if the past had put too much distance between them.