Snowflakes fell from the grey sky, covering the ground in white even more than it already was. Grey and white, Sansa thought to herself. The Stark colors.
Their house words Winter is Coming echoed in her mind. And how had it come she thought. But after what Jon told her about what is waiting beyond the wall, she knew the real winter hadn't come yet.
For now though, they had more pressing matters to deal with. Ramsay Bolton to be exact. Ramsay Bolton and his at least 5,000 men ready for battle, going against the Starks 2,000 or so- not to forget Lyanna Mormont's 62 men of course.
Jon had assured her he had fought worse odds; that he had fought worse than Ramsay Bolton. But he didn't know Ramsay Bolton. She did.
And right now all she wanted was to see that bastards head hanging on a spike. Mounted on her white horse she looked over at the soon to be battle field. Winterfell lied just ahead. Her home. Their home.
Somewhere beyond those walls their littlest brother Rickon was being held captive by Ramsay. Assuming he was still alive. As much as it pained her to think about, to even consider the possibility of losing another brother, another loved one, she knew what to expect from Ramsay.
He always kept true to his promises. Come and see his letter to Jon read. Your brother Rickon is in my dungeon, his direwolf's skin on my floor. Come and see…You will watch as my dogs devour your wild little brother.
She let out a small breath, trying to control the rage festering within her. She looked over at their army, at the men fighting for her home, for the North. For a chance at survival.
She suddenly felt Jon's presence. He had been next to her the whole time, but she had seemed to lose herself in her own thoughts for a moment.
"Don't be afraid Sansa," Jon assured her.
"I'm not afraid," she told him, turning her head to face him. "Not anymore."
"I wasn't there to protect you before" he said. "And after learning everything you've been through, a part of me hates myself for it. But I'm here now. And I know I said, I was tired of fighting but….. Well truth is I still am. But we're here now. And we will take our home back."
"I appreciate the sentiment Jon but…you can't blame yourself," she told him. "You were doing your duty. You did what you had to do, just like I did."
He gave her a sad, longing look along with a small, but somewhat hopeful smile. Sansa knew this hard for him. She can't imagine what it must be like to come back from death, but she knew he had spent so many years at war. In reality, one could argue he had been at war all his life, with himself.
She felt the need to reassure him that he was doing the right thing. She knew, always knew, that despite his internal struggles with his own identity and who he was, he loved them all more than anything. He loved his family. And now, he was going to fight for them.
"Jon," she started. He looked up at her as she took her hand and placed it on his. Her icy blue eyes pierced into his brown ones, those big, brown eyes that always had a hint of sadness. "I know you're tired of fighting. I can't even imagine what it must have been like for you, after everything you told me.
"But I'm glad you're with me. I said I would do this with or without you, but ... I'm glad we are doing this together. Forget about everything else. Forget about Ramsay, the White Walkers. Forget about all of it. All that matters now, is that we are taking back our home.
"That we're taking back our home for Robb," and at the mention of his name, she paused for a moment, remembering her older brother. How she waited, and waited for him to rescue her, to rescue all of them. But the monsters took him away from them. Now they would take of care of the monsters. She saw Jon tense at Robb's name, and he looked away momentarily. They had been so close. Closer than brothers.
"This is for Robb, and Arya," again Jon tensed. He missed Arya so much, wherever she was. "And Bran and Rickon. And mother and Father. This is for all the people we've loved and lost.
"And for your mother,". Jon suddenly looked up at her, brown eyes shining. Sansa never talked about Jon's mother. None of them did. But hearing her say those words, it meant everything. "Wherever she is or whomever she was. It doesn't matter, because she's family too. And I know you always felt out of place Jon, and I know I helped you feel that way and I'm sorry. But none of that matters now. Because you... You Jon are our family. You're our brother, you will always be our brother. And Winterfell is your home. It always was and it always will be. You might not have the Stark name, but you are more a Stark than any of us. And today, we fight for the Stark name. We fight for our family, for our home."
And with those words, Jon leaned in, touching his forehead with hers, placing his hand on the back of her neck, feeling her auburn hair in his fingers. They closed their eyes, lost in the moment, drawing from each other's love and strength.
She's so strong, he thought to himself. She had changed so much. But she was a woman now...no. A warrior. Not like Arya, but a warrior in her own right.
He had never felt closer to her in than in that moment. After a moment, he pulled away, and placed a kiss on her forehead. A long, enduring kiss.
Sansa felt the weight of that kiss and all the unspoken feelings that came with it. Love, pride, longing.
He pulled back and looked at her. "If we fall" he said. "If we fail, we do it together."
"That's all I want" she said, giving him a small but reassuring smile. He squeezed her hand before letting go. She gave him a small nod, one final sign of encouragement, as she watched him head over to the men, to prepare for the battle to come.