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A Song of Submission

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

*****

Author's Note:

This takes place during the first two episodes of Game of Thrones season eight, after Daenerys moves to Winterfell.


*****

Sansa was livid.

It felt as if she'd only been back in Winterfell for a short time. After all she'd been through, the years she'd spent trapped in King's Landing, passed from family to family while her own went through horrors, she was back where she should be.

Jon was back by her side, and now Arya and Bran were here too. The Boltons were gone, her brother was the new King of the North, and she was the one who had brought the North together once more. She may have taken the title of Lady of Winterfell, but there was one guest in her castle that she hadn't been expecting.

Daenerys Targaryen, the Dragon Queen from across the seas, was here. She claims to be the true heir to the Iron Throne, but her father was a madman. Besides, whoever occupied King's Landing, it was always the North that had suffered.

To add insult to injury, it was Jon that had invited her to stay, after seemingly falling for her during his time away. Army of the dead or not, it was a little rushed - and she couldn't help but side with her followers when they lamented the arrival of her armies.

Now, she found herself pacing through the corridors of the castle she grew up in, all to meet with the white-haired woman who wants to rule over it. Things had been a little tense since she arrived and Sansa wasn't about to beat around the bush when it came to her people's resources. Daenerys clearly noticed this, and asked to meet with her - but made sure to command Sansa come to her quarters, rather than visiting her's.

As Sansa approached the wing of the castle that Daenerys and her servants had occupied during their stay, she tried to channel her frustrations into something a little more productive. Her anger could be used to make it clear once and for all who was the proper ruler of this castle.

When she reached the doors, she glared at the unsullied guards until they moved aside, then shoved the doors open without knocking. She had hoped to make a surprise entrance, but instead found herself on the other end of shock, when she spotted the two forms in front of her.

Lying in the large elegant bed were two women, one draped across the other like a blanket. Daenerys' dainty frame, with pearly white skin almost matching her white blonde curls that spread across the pillows, lay relaxed across the sheets. Sansa was taken aback as she saw the self-appointed queen wearing just a thin white night gown, her eyebrows raising higher when she spotted her servant.

A tall, slender woman lay across Daenerys, resting her head and brown afro hair across her mistress' lap. Daenerys looked up at Sansa without a lick of surprise and smiled, stroking her hand across the light brown skin of her servile maid's shoulder with the tips of her fingers.

"Well hello there, Sansa."

"Your highness," she replied stoically.

Sansa bristled at the first-name basis, but quickly tried to collect herself after failing to avoid the distraction of the smooth nude curves displayed before her. Danerys followed her gaze and smiled again.

"This is Missandei, my most loyal attendant. She is as obedient as they come, and a close friend. But still, she never forgets her place when in the presence of a queen."

Sansa tried her best not to roll her eyes. Now in the presence of one naked and another near-naked woman, she was desperate to return to her own world.

"You asked for my presence?"

"Yes, yes," Daenerys said as if half-remembering, stroking Missandei's hair. "I think a few things need to be made clear about our current situation."

"Such as?"

"The throne was forcefully taken from my father. The Targaryens will rule again, with me at the helm. Your half-brother understands this, and chose to bend the knee. He knows what's really at stake in the North. I hope you do the same."

"I'm afraid that I am not my brother, Daenerys. I do not turn weak at the knees at the sight of a beautiful invader and open up my lands so easily. If you think at the end of this you'll rule over my people, you may wish you'd stayed in a warmer climate."

Daenerys face froze as Sansa spoke, before breaking into a smile once more. She shifted further up the bed, bringing her back to the pillows and pulling her legs away from Missandei, who moved aside.

"You are in debt to me, little girl. You're lucky I love Jon - and I really do - but I do not need anyone. I've seen many men and many women stand up to me, and each has fallen. Everyone serves me, eventually."

Sansa bit her tongue and tried not to release her anger or insult her, instead staying as deadpan as she could, standing perfectly still, waiting for Daenerys' next move. To her surprise, once again, Daenerys' next words weren't to her at all.

"Missandei, do your duty."

Her servant wordlessly looked to her mistress, then back to Sansa, a look of bewilderment and embarrassment across her face. With no further words, she nodded her head and climbed onto all fours, crawling over to Daenerys and pushing her knees gently apart.

Sansa let a quiet, yet still audible, gasp out of her mouth as Daenerys spread her legs in front of her. Missandei's head obscured any flash of the queen's most private parts, but by this very action she presented a glimpse of her own.

Daenerys closed her eyes and softly cooed as Missandei began to lick between her legs, her tongue lapping up and down her pussy. Her moves were artful, clearly well-versed in the action but willing to improvise, each surprising flick of her tongue causing her mistress to gasp.

"Your grace, I -"

"Quiet," Daenerys said with authority, her eyes opening to glare at Sansa, halting her in her tracks. "Watch how a real servant treats her Queen."

Sansa bit her tongue, but resisted the urge to storm out. She still wanted the debate to continue but was so distracted by what was in front of her. 'Is this a power play?' she thought to herself. But her thinking soon shifted to what was happening in front of her, and she forgot her mission.

As Missandei's head tilted and moved between the Queen's legs, on all fours with her ass in the air, Sansa could glimpse her pussy as she spread her legs wider. Not only that, but it seemed to be completely bare, something that Sansa had never seen before. Even in King's Landing, the women seemed to trim their pubic hair, but this was entirely new to her - and she couldn't keep her eyes off it.

It didn't take long for Daenery's moans to grow louder. Lately, Sansa had been relieving herself alone, muffling her sounds in the pillow, but this woman was free to be as loud as she needed to be, and she wanted Sansa to hear her pleasure.

Sansa became aware that she was staring at Missandei and looked away, inadvertently locking eyes with Daenerys. She tried to look away but felt frozen to the spot, as if she wasn't in control of her own body, incapable of looking anywhere but into her eyes.

The sensation between her legs, and Sansa's vulnerable face as she stared back at her proved too much for Daenarys, and she felt the pleasure begin to rise. "Mmmm," she moaned, her voice becoming more high pitched as she reached the edge, Missandei adding more speed and pressure with her tongue to push her over the edge into a blissful orgasm.

"OOooohh," she cooed, her voice shaking with the climax. Daenerys hands gripped Missandei's hair, pulling her tighter against her pussy as she came, jolting forward slightly with each wave of pleasure.

Sansa remained motionless, seeing a woman she barely knew reach orgasm in front of her. It was undeniably erotic, and she wished it were a different situation so she could indulge herself.

Even as she stood there, feeling so insignificant that she was forced to bear witness to another's pleasure in her own home, she felt a fire burn within her. She wanted Missandei to do the same to her, she wanted to touch Missandei's skin and give her the same, and she wanted to bend the Queen of the Andals to her will.

As the thought overwhelmed her, she felt goosebumps along her arm, her skin prickling with energy at the mere idea. For a moment, her imagination gave her a luscious image of control, but when she looked to Daenerys, her confidence dissipated.

The Queen smirked, still looking at Sansa as Missandei crawled back away from her, kissing her thighs lightly as if in thanks. As she drew away, Missandei pulled the gown down her majesty's thighs, to preserve her modesty despite the orgasmic display that just took place.

Sansa opened her mouth to speak, but struggled to make any sound come forward. Clearing her throat and swallowing, she tried to compose herself and act unaffected by the display, but she was already at a disadvantage. Sensing her dominant position, Daenerys spoke first.

"Quiet," she interrupted. Sansa was offended, but did as she was told, unable to climb her way back to the self-confidence she had when she entered the room. Daenerys looked away from her back to the servant lying at her feet, giving Missandei's behind a quick slap.

"Oh!" Sansa gasped, louder than Missandei even, who took a quiet, sharp intake of breath before sliding onto her front, chest pressed down on the bed.

Now side-on to Sansa, the Lady of Winterfell peeked at Missandei's pert breasts, watching her hard nipples grazing the sheets as she moved at her mistress' behest. The sight alone began to turn the redhead on, and with Daenerys in command, she felt that by extension the Queen was controlling the warm feeling spreading through her own body.

"My people love me, Lady Stark, and I love them. They would do anything for me, and they adore serving my commands."

Sansa felt a little rebellion rise in her once more, so she glared back at the would-be conqueror, as if to say 'I will never serve you'. She couldn't find the strength to say it, but the look alone drove Daenerys to take her performance one step further.

"Maybe you need another visual aid," the white-haired woman added, turning back to her servant. "Missandei, bring yourself to orgasm."

Sansa went to speak, to protect the woman from debasing herself against her will. It was one thing to be forced to pleasure someone else, but touching yourself - such a private, personal act - in front of others? That was unheard of.

Yet before Sansa could say a word, her mouth was left open as Missandei reached between her own legs. Staying on her knees, chest flat against the sheets, she lifted her ass up in the air and began to stroke between her legs, moaning softly as she made contact with her clitoris.

*SLAP!*

Just a few moments in, Missandei was slapped harshly across her behind, making Sansa jump without thinking. Before she could feel sorry for her, she noticed how Missandei gasped too, her mouth agape in pleasure in the aftermath of the blow.

Looking up, Sansa saw Daenerys' unwavering gaze, making eye contact with the Northern girl as she spanked her handmaiden again.

*Slap!*

"MMmmmphhh," Missandei moaned into the sheets, as if each spank was a caress. Sansa had jumped again, unable to stay resolute and calm. She expected the dragon queen to be smirking at her, but she was dead serious.

"People don't just serve me out of obligation, Lady Stark. They love to serve me. I hope that one day you'll compromise a little, and learn to serve too."

As she spoke, she broke eye contact with Sansa, who suddenly felt as if she could breathe again. Daenerys looked back lovingly at Missandei as she began to writhe with passion below her. She traced a finger along the curve of her servant's back, then began to her caress her round ass again.

"My... Queen!" Missandei said between gasps. "Please may - I - finish?"

Daenerys didn't speak, but instead brought her hand up again, before reigning down blows on Missandei's tender flesh.

*Slap!* *Slap!* *Slap!* *Slap!* *Slap!*

Sansa stepped forward as if to help, but thought better of it as soon as she saw Missandei's response. She squirmed on the bed sheets, her fingers still moving at the same speed between her legs. It was as if her orgasm were struggling to break free, and she was keeping it back by sheer will.

*Slap!* *Slap!* *Slap!*

As she watched the poor girl writhe, her body glistening with sweat, Sansa wondered why she seemed to like this so much. Yet at the same time, she understood the pure sensuality on display before her, though she couldn't put a finger on why. All she knew is that in watching this woman in the throes of pleasure, she wanted her for herself.

"Please... my Queen - let... me.."

Missandei's words trailed off into quiet whines of pleasure, before Daenerys leaned in close to her bowed head. Sansa couldn't hear what was whispered in her ear, but it was enough to send the brown-skinned beauty over the edge.

"AHHhhhhh" she half-yelled, before pressing her face into the sheets to suppress her orgasmic moans. Leaning forward, her ass came further up in the air, the servant's fingers moving faster over her soaking wet pussy as pleasure overwhelmed her.

"MMMmm" she let slip. Sansa almost jumped again as she saw the peak of the orgasm take place, with a short spray of liquid ejecting from between her legs as her body shuddered.

The Stark girl stared, dumbfounded. Daenerys lay, leaning on her elbow casually as if nothing had taken place, relishing her power over them both. Missandei slumped onto the bed, breathing sharply as she recovered from her orgasm.

"I think I've made my point. Missandei, please escort Sansa back to her quarters."

Despite her clear lack of energy, the Naathi woman pushed herself up and stood upright at the foot of the bed. She stood before Sansa, giving her the first full look at her bare body. 'She's perfect,' Sansa thought to herself, glad she didn't speak aloud.

Missandei smiled awkwardly at the redhead and took her robe from a hook on the wall, slipping the thin fabric over her head in one fluid motion. She motioned for Sansa to leave with her, and after a moment's hesitation, she followed.

"Your grace," Sansa muttered, still shellshocked from the scene and unable to make eye contact with either of them as she stepped out into the hallway.

*****

She began her walk back to her quarters with the handmaiden in tow, both silently. So preoccupied was she with what had happened, it took her a moment to realise the stark difference in temperature out in the halls of Winterfell compared to the fire-lit guest room they had just left.

"You must be freezing!" Sansa said, taking note of the thin layer Missandei wore in the winter chill.

"It is not my place to seek comforts, Lady Stark."

"It's not a comfort - it's about survival, you -"

Sansa cut herself off as she looked Missandei up and down, halting her speech as she spotted her hard nipples standing out beneath the robe.

"Besides, you shouldn't have to dedicate yourself so wholly to... her."

"Oh no! Following Daenerys Targaryen was a choice. I am honoured to serve at her side, she freed me from slavery."

"Freed you into what? More slavery?"

"It is not slavery if you choose it, Lady Stark. I am happy to take my natural place beneath her."

"Natural? Do you have no ambition?"

Sansa was glad to get away from the strange confusing thoughts that had entered her mind during the display. Philosophy and politics was much easier to put into words than these strange feelings conjured up inside her body.

"Konīr issi lī qilōni udrāzma se lī qilōni issi udrāzmi, lī qilōni tepagon pōja gundja se lī qilōni kipagon."

Though she didn't know what she said, the beauty of the foreign tongue was not lost on Sansa. Though this was the first she had heard it - she could tell it was High Valerian.

"What does that mean?"

Missandei quietly giggled to herself, then matched Sansa's gaze, her glimmering eyes transfixing Sansa for a moment.

"You must understand that in my culture, we speak more openly about ourselves than many do in Westeros. In the common tongue, what I say sounds far more crude, even if it is still true."

"Tell me."

"It roughly translates to 'There are those who rule and those who are ruled, those who give their behind and those who ride.'"

Sansa's eyebrows raised in surprise, and her look gave across a little confusion. Being a translator of more than just verbal language, Missandei took the hint and explained further.

"The most direct translation is often not the most honest. I believe the easiest way to explain it in the common tongue is to say: 'There are those who get fucked in the ass, and those that take them.' It is the way."

Before Sansa could even begin to formulate a response, Missandei smiled and gestured to the door. They had finished their walk, and Sansa once again felt at a loss for words.

"Do you want to come inside, and warm up by the fire?" she said without thinking.

"No, I'm afraid not, Lady Stark. The Queen awaits my return, and I must follow her commands."

Missandei briefly bowed her head and turned on her heels. It was only then that Sansa noticed the guards that stood outside her room, and flushed red. 'They mustn't have heard much,' she convinced herself, then commanded them to return to their beds and leave her be.

As Sansa entered her room, she was glad to find the warmth of the raging fire waiting for her. Still, her room felt dreadfully empty, and she found herself wishing that Missandei had chosen to stay with her a little while.

"Struck out, huh?" a voice uttered from behind her.

"Argh!" Sansa yelled, jumping on the spot. But before she could lunge for a weapon, she saw the source of the words. Arya was stood by the door, leaning against the wall, with a smirk on her face and wine in her hand.

"How the HELL did you get in here?"

"How the hell did I survive King's Landing? Or The King's Road? Or Bravos? I have my ways, Lady Stark."

"Ugh, don't call me that."

"Why? Missandei calls you that."

"Missandei is blinded by loyalty and dedicated to serving others. You are just a troublemaker."

"Bet you wish she'd serve you, huh?" Arya said, winking at her sister.

"Don't be ridiculous," Sansa said, her face flushed red at the comment. She poured herself a goblet of wine and took a sip, and looked at the one in Arya's hand.

"I hope you don't mind, I helped myself."

"Why are you here anyway? Aren't you too busy fucking Gendry?"

"No, the poor guy can only take so much. I left him dreaming of me to come here and help you."

"Help me what?"

"Show the dragon bitch who exactly rules Winterfell."

Sansa laughed at Arya's words, though her sister's face remained stoic as ever. She sat at the foot of her bed and took another gulp of wine, before asking:

"I don't doubt your time spent travelling the brothels and alleyways of the world have given you a deft hand at royal politics," she quipped, "but what exactly is it you think we could do?"

"This isn't about the Iron Throne, Sansa, this is about our home. She waltzes in here with an army, takes over the castle, tells us what to do and how to do it. I've seen her bewitch Jon and I don't want to see her do the same to you."

"Jon is in love," Sansa said, rolling her eyes. "I don't love Daenerys, she's a means to an end. Eventually she'll leave the castle and we can concentrate on the North."

"But will it end? Remember King Robert and the Lannisters? Remember how they would come up here, turning their noses up at us while drinking our ale and fucking our whores? It will keep happening if we don't show them who really rules the North."

"Nice words, but doing anything to overthrow her right now would be the worst timing. The army of the dead could be upon us in days."
"I'm not talking violence or politics. I'm saying we get in her head, give her a reason to respect us. We need to do it now, because after we deal with the Night King, she's going to want to rule over what's left and it'll be too late."

"Why are you so obsessed with this anyway?"

"I saw the same thing you did tonight. I'd be mad if it wasn't so hot."

Sansa almost spit out her drink, making Arya laugh. "You saw all of that? How?"

"Like I said, I have my ways," Arya said, finishing her wine and walking towards her. "She weaponised her sexuality against you, she scared you, got in your head. She dominated Missandei and let you know that you're up next. Let's do it to her before she does it to us."

"This is petty, Arya, and crude," Sansa said, sipping on the last of her wine. "I'm not sure if-"

Sansa was cut off as Arya bent down and leaned in close, grasping her sister's face in between her hands, tenderly, like a lover.

"Do you want to be bent over, begging Daenerys to let you finish? Do you want to be between her legs whenever she rings the bell?"

"No..." Sansa said quietly, taken aback at the closeness between the two of them. She felt Arya's words seep into her, seeming truer by the minute. Then she thought back to Missandei's words, about there being two types of people in this world.

"So let's show the dragon what Northwomen can do."

Before Sansa could finish her thought or respond anymore than a slight nod of the head in affirmation, Arya darted forward and brought her lips to hers.

Sansa initially moved back, but Arya placed her hand gently on the back of her head, kissing her deeply, then delicately caressing her sister's lips with her own.

Her struggles started to subside as the kiss overtook her. She hadn't been kissed like this in such a long time, that she began to forget who she was with for a moment. The redhead felt her heart rise in her chest and the feelings of the night surge to the surface, so she leaned in and kissed back with all her might.

Arya edged in closer, nudging Sansa's knees apart and stepping between them. Sansa leaned her head back to meet the kiss as she sat at the end of the bed. Arya towered over her, despite normally being much shorter than her older sister, and then briefly broke the kiss for a gasp of air.

"Arya... we're sisters... we can't-"

"Shut up," she interrupted, kissing her sister once more. Once Sansa responded to the kiss, she backed away again, as if proving her point.

"Let's not do this dance of 'right and wrong' when we can get to the heart of the matter," Arya said, tracing her thumb over Sansa's bottom lip for a moment

With a swift sleight of hand a flustered Sansa couldn't keep track of, Arya pushed her hand down, weaving it between the fabric of her clothes and down below her abdomen.

Sansa gasped as she felt fingers trace lightly through her pubic hair, her hands frozen on the edge of the bed. As what was happening truly hit her, she grasped Arya by her wrist, but it was too late. Her sister's hand had dropped further, her palm cupping her bare crotch. She felt as if she couldn't move, as if she were literally in the palm of Arya's hand.

She continued to grip tightly on Arya's wrist, looking her dead in the eyes with a mix of disbelief, anger, and embarrassment. However, the soft fingers against her sensitive nether lips felt welcome even in the midst of the mortification, however cold they felt against her warm crevice.

She had avoided it all night, but what she had seen had awoken something in her that had been lingering for months. She needed release, and her frustration was at an all-time high.

"Just as I thought," Arya said, smiling down on Sansa. "Your wet pussy is far more honest than your words, isn't it?"

Sansa gasped again as the fingers began to move, tracing between her folds until they found her clitoris. As Arya began to silently rub her clit, Sansa felt the pleasure immediately, clenching her eyes shut and gripping Arya's wrist with one hand while the other tugged at the sheets.

Smiling at the response, Arya began to pick up the pace, using two fingertips to circle the rapidly-engorging bud of sensitivity. Sansa's moans struggled to break free of her lips, clamped shut to keep herself quiet.

"Ohhh," she opened her mouth, letting a moan break free, as Arya began to use three fingers together, rapidly rubbing side to side beneath Sansa's dress. She could tell her sister was close and so kept up the pace.

"Oh gods oh gods oh gods," Sansa whispered as she felt the pleasure rising. It felt as if it had only been a moment ago that she had first been kissed, and now she was sent hurtling over the precipice of her orgasm.

As Sansa clenched the bedsheets in her fist, the pleasure flowing over her body, Arya pulled her hair back lightly so she face upwards and kissed her again. She continued to finger her through her orgasm, extending the pleasure and leaving her moaning against her lips.

The kiss eventually broke, the fingers slipped away, yet the pleasure remained tingling down to her toes and fingertips. Arya stepped back as quickly as she had approached, standing with her hands behind her back as if nothing had happened.

"You clearly need some release in your life, big sister," Arya said with a smile. "You need to take charge, give commands."

Sansa smiled back, but struggled to stand to her feet.

She picked up her goblet from the floor and filled it up again, amazed that she had come so quickly, fully clothed. She looked back at Arya, a new look in her eyes. They had stepped over a boundary, and so she had no qualms about looking her up and down with lust.

"I'll take my leave now, Lady Stark," Arya said as she turned to the door. "We can talk about this more tomorrow."

"No," Sansa stated plainly, before finishing the rest of her wine and slamming it down on the table. "You're not going anywhere."

Sansa grabbed Arya by the arm and tugged her roughly back. She could feel Arya begin to resist, then let go and come towards her. Sansa turned her around and pushed her backwards as hard as she could, sending her stumbling backwards onto the bed.

"Be quiet," Sansa said in response to Arya's perplexed expression. Then, as she saw her big sister begin to untie her britches, her confusion turned to amusement. She knew all her sister needed was a push, and she would begin to dominate.

"Sansa, what are you doing?" she asked with a grin.

"I am the Lady of Winterfell. I do as I please within these walls."

She tugged at Arya's clothes, pulling the trousers down to her knees sharply, then roughly pulling them to her feet. Arya kicked them off, swiping her fringe back off her face as Sansa looked down on her half-naked body.

Sansa climbed onto the bed, and Arya shimmied back across the sheets. Unlike Missandei, Arya's pubic hair was unkempt, but still small. Sansa traced her hands through the hair, then down to her labia, startled by how soft her skin was.

With one glance to her sister, in which her eyes seemed to ask 'what now?', Sansa leaned in closer, placing her hands on Arya's thighs. She brought her tongue directly to her clit, delicately teasing it with the tip until it grew against her and she could hear Arya's breathing change.

She lapped at her clit, up and down, occasionally using the flat of her tongue to press down on her vulva - a move that made Arya squirm beneath her. Within minutes, her little sister was holding her head, desperate to pull her in closer and end the teasing.

Finally, Sansa relented and took her clit between her lips, sucking lightly and twirling her tongue around it. Arya's arms tensed up as she reached the end of her tether, feeling the pleasure brim to the surface.

"AHHHH," she moaned, not restraining her voice as she came. She inadvertently thrust her hips forward with the orgasm, cumming hard as Sansa continued to suck. Sansa eventually brought her lips away and kissed Arya lightly on her inner thigh, then wiped her mouth of the juices with the back of her hand.

As Sansa rested her head on Arya's thigh, her sister lay still, unable to move for the moment as she recovered from her orgasm, twitching slightly with the remnants of pleasure.

"Where... did you... learn that?"

"You know the rumours about Margaery Tyrell?" Sansa asked, sitting up and looking down on her sister. Arya raised her eyebrows to answer.

"Well, they were true."

Arya laughed, and it was so infectious Sansa couldn't help but laugh too. With every moment their giggles became more intense, until they were both gasping for air, wiping tears from their eyes.

Sansa backed away and stood up, looking down on Arya, who was still in the same position on the bed, half-naked. Suddenly coming out of the moment, Arya pulled her knees up and sat upright.

"I best be off then."

"Nonsense," Sansa retorted.

Arya watched as her sister undid the back of her dress until it was loose, separated the different layers and dropped the undergarments to the floor, pulling the top of the elegant dress over her head.

"You're staying here with me tonight," she said, baring her body to her sister for the first time in years. Arya couldn't help but stare at her breasts and smile in amazement at how beautiful she had become.

"Take your clothes off and get in bed. I'm cold and I need your warmth."

Arya did as she was told, removing her jacket and shirt and throwing them to the floor. She climbed in bed alongside her sister, who immediately wrapped her arms around her, locking their bodies together in the warm embrace.

She could feel the allure of sleep wash over her as she lay in bed, slightly drunk from the wine and her body at peace from the orgasm. Still, she used the last moments of thought of the evening to plan their future.

Today Sansa took her first steps, but tomorrow was the day they brought showed the dragon queen who really ruled Winterfell.
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