Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Note: I'm having a bit of a smile to myself regarding the comments that have popped up in this story. I know now much better how it will go and what will happen, more so than I did on Friday. So that's to everybody for pushing my creative juices a bit and really making me consider how this story will go. Up to this point in the GoT fandom I have written rather happy, feel good fics. This is in slight contrast to my darker Harry Potter fanfics. This particular story will be dark, there's no way to get around it. However, I think I've found a way to tell it that makes it interesting.
Give this a few chapters to warm up, I think the next two will be very telling and something new to me too. I've decided to do some things that I have not in the past, and I hope I can use them to a good effect ;-)
Chapter 2: Sowing the Seeds of Revenge
In the cellar of their small farmhouse Sansa and Gendry were doing their best to form a plan. A single candle provided just enough light for them and their small group of followers to see each other's faces and no more.
"So the Southern Dogs are running scared?" Gendry said, looking Sansa in the eye.
"I don't know if they are scared so much as desperate to reign in order." Sansa replied, looking around the room.
She didn't want anybody to lose their nerve, if all she had heard about the Hound was correct, he would kill and torture a people until they had no will left in them.
"Some of us have families." One of the men piped up, "Mayhaps we don't want to put them in danger too."
This was exactly what Sansa was worried about, exactly what she didn't want to happen.
"We certainly have to be more careful than we have been in the past Joris, but to give in now would be to admit defeat before the war has even begun." She answered.
"But can we even be sure the King in the North will return?" A lady asked, "I don't want to be fighting a war for nothing."
Sansa's hands clenched into fists under the table, she needed a moment to think. It had been some time since she had had communication with Jon, she couldn't say exactly how close he was to coming back. She didn't even know if he was alive still.
That was when Gendry cut in, "You would wait for these men to steal more of your crops? Rape your wives and daughters? Even if the King in the North never returns it is better we fight."
Sansa continued, "A foreign ruler cannot be the norm. We must let them know that they cannot squeeze us without paying the consequences."
That got a lot of support, hands slapping on the table in approval.
"We must be organized and our message must be clear." Sansa said. "We will leave a piece of parchment when we do our deeds against our oppressors, and we'll leave these."
She showed a piece of parchment with a hand print on it, it was a northern symbol of defiance. There was a nod of approval from everybody around the table.
Sansa went to sleep that night, her direction clear, her heart at ease. 'The North remembers.'
The Hound's reign of terror began almost immediately upon his arrival, and the common folk were not prepared. Men, women and children suspected of being partisans were executed without trial. Their bodies left to decorate Winterfell. Some were her friends, some she didn't know, but all their sacrifices moved her in the same way. Her people were a brave and proud people, nobody argued, nobody plead for their lives, they died with dignity and honor. It brought a tear to Sansa's eye just thinking about it. He was sowing the seeds of revenge in the North. Everyone was suspect, everyone was scared.
Except for Sansa Stark, she wasn't scared, she was angry. She was not blind to the fact that her and her follower's acts of resistance would bring with it suppression from their Southern overlords, she had even expected it. This, however, had been far more than she had bargained for. The only positive consequence was an increase in willingness to join the partisans. With this new found support, she decided to hit the Hound as hard as she could.
Tonight they would attack two farmhouses, two farmhouses resettled by Southern farmers. The Hound had begun to bring settlers to the northern territories, families loyal to him and his King. It was a stroke of genius, Sansa couldn't deny that. With some intermarriage and some generations, the common folk would slowly settle. They would forget the King in the North. It was an attempt to dilute the population, to decrease the will of the her homeland. The partisans would need to nip this in the bud, immediately.
Gendry, Sansa and their supporters had never threatened civilians before, always hit places and infrastructure even soldiers, so this would be new. Tonight they would play with the lines of ethics and morality in order to win back their homeland. Sansa couldn't say that it didn't bother her, pain her even to terrorize these people, but she remained steadfast in her belief that this had to be done if they were to win.
The partisans waited until the dead of night, dressed in black with their faces covered as they went about their business. Sansa nodded to her comrades from her hiding place in the woods. Each of them had a job to do tonight, each of them knew what was expected of them. The men broke into the house, pulling the family out and began to beat them, leaving the children to watch their parents beg for mercy.
She addressed the scared family as their house was raided and set on fire. "Do you know who lived in this house before you? Do you know who tilled this field before you were brought here to take it over?"
Their silence allowed for Sansa to continue, "The McAllisters ran this farm and they were butchered during the war. Murdered in the war your King started, and over what? Nothing. And if they cannot have this land, then nobody can."
The was scared, all members weeping uncontrollably, the husband and two older boys battered and broken. "Run back to where you came from and tell them of what has happened here. Tell them to never come back."
The family fled, taking a few small possessions and running into the night. Sansa and her partisans would burn the crops and salt the fields. It would be the biggest 'fuck you' one could give to the new governor. It would hit the Hound were it hurt, loyal farms eager to support his army would now be too scared to do it. They were escalating their cycle of violence and Sansa hoped it was the means to an end.
"Let's move on Magda." Gendry said to her, taking her by the shoulder and moving her from her thoughts.
Sansa nodded, knowing they had more work to do this night. She left some parchment pieces with the hand impression there, so there would be no doubt who had done this and why.
The next morning Sansa took her basket and went to the market in Winterfell, her travel cloak pulled around her it's hood heavy on her head. She needed to assess the mood of the occupiers, see what was being said by the people. Their acts had certainly not gone unnoticed, but would they be seen as done with the people in mind? Or as acts of terror?
Sansa was extremely sensitive to the idea that if the proper information was not disseminated amongst the people, then their rebellion could be seen as acts against the common folk, not against the pillars of their Southern oppressors. She made her way through the market, her eyes and ears open. There were soldiers everywhere, walking through the market their gaze weighing her down. They were on higher alert than usual, a sign that their campaign was working.
Some women were speaking near a vegetable stands, Sansa neared them, "Did you smell the fires last night?" One asked.
"Yes they were terrible. We don't have enough food as it is, and now we're burning everything." the second woman whispered, sure not to arouse the suspicion of the soldiers in the crowd.
"I heard the family wasn't from here. That they were helping the soldiers." Sansa chimed in, whispering as well as she looked at some potatoes.
One woman was surprised, the other simply nodded. "But where will it end?" The first woman asked Sansa.
"When the Starks return." Sansa said, looking around to make sure they were not being watched.
The women breathed uneasily at Sansa's words, then one of them spoke. "How can we be so sure they'll even come back? I haven't seen hide nor hair of a Stark since the King took control of these lands."
"The North remembers." Sansa said to them, "Don't forget that. The Starks will return."
The women smiled and nodded at the name of their old ruling family. It was a positive sign, at least the people were still loyal to this idea.
Then they were suddenly silent as a black courser approached, the Hound was going through the market. Intimidating the people, on the lookout for saboteurs most certainly. So caught off guard, she didn't have time to pull her long red braid back into her hood. Looking up inadvertently Sansa's eyes met his and she narrowed them. She was unafraid, knowing it would be hard to cover her contempt for him, but also knowing just this look could get her beaten, or killed.
His eyes were unflinching, there was a coldness about them that Sansa could not place. Again she found herself unable to discern any human emotion from his eyes, which only made her more steadfast in her decision to glare at him. If looks could have killed, he would have been dead several times over.
"My Lord, there are the furs we were discussing." A man's voice came from a second horse, he was clearly addressing the Hound. He held her gaze a few beats more before turning the the man.
Sansa took the opportunity to leave, pulling her braid into her hood and moving with the crowd. It would not do to draw his attention or even his eire at this stage. A cautious girl would have kept her eyes down, would not have looked at him. But Sansa's patience was running thin and she found herself becoming less and less patient.
Taking a quick glance over her shoulder, she could see his eye scanning the crowd perched high atop his enormous war horse. He was looking for her. Sansa swallowed but kept her pace even and her eyes open for a hiding spot. She could hear the hooves of this horse hitting the ground in a relaxed walk, as if he were not bothered to find her quickly. Eyeing a bakery Sansa slipped inside, rushing behind the counter and moving toward the ovens in the back. Holding her index finger to her lips, she silenced the young boy who was watching the shop for his father. Sansa sat under a small window on the ground, her knees drawn up.
She could hear the horse hooves moving in the dirt, the horse snorting in the cool air just outside of the window. It stopped there, not moving further. Sansa didn't dare breath, she didn't dare make a move for fear the Hound was looking into the window trying to find her.
'He's not moving.' Was the only thing on her mind, 'He's not moving.'
She felt like she would pass out, like she would faint from lack of air, so strong was her need to not make a sound. Then finally the horse moved on taking his master with him.
Sansa breathed a sigh of relief. She had lived to fight another day.
