Fanfiction only. I own no part of Game of Thrones.

Dissent

Rumors on foot and by raven had been filtering into the North for days, but with the return of the king, the houses wanted firm answers. By midmorning, the mustered troops were growing increasingly restless. Lyanna rode on one side of Sansa and Clegane on the other, his sword loosed in its scabbard.

"Jon will have to address the rumors tonight, or we'll have blood on the ground by morning."

"There's already been bloodshed over it, my Lady."

When Sansa looked to Lyanna for confirmation, she glowered at Clegane before elaborating, "One of the fool Glovers got too deep into his cup last night and accused one of my men of telling tall tales to entertain the Mormont brat." She grimaced.

Sansa turned to her shield. "How did you know, Clegane?"

Clegane threw a dark look at Lyanna. "Who do you think separated them?" He pointed with his chin at an encampment of Mazins, half drunk before midday and wiling away their time dicing. "There's too many men gathered here with too little to do. Boredom and drink and too few whores are as dangerous to an army as plague. How long does Snow plan to wait for the Houses to muster to Winterfell?"

"I'll ask him. Something will need to be devised to keep the men occupied. Too many wagging tongues will only put pressure on the fissures between houses."

"Why aren't they training? Some of these fuckers look like they've never held a sword in their lives. We send this lot against the wights, we'll only be increasing the ranks of the dead."

Sansa and Lyanna exchanged alarmed looks. "I'll mention it. Anything else?"

Clegane snorted. "There's nowhere near enough space in the barracks. If he means to keep these men sleeping in tents outside the keep walls, in two weeks, he'll be lucky if half of them haven't lost toes to the frost. This is the fucking North! Don't you people know how to keep warm?"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"If Clegane knows so much, maybe you'd like him to take over the army!"

Sansa had immediately confronted Jon when they returned to the keep, and their conversation had quickly escalated. "He's been soldiering for the Lannisters since he was thirteen years old! If he tells you there's a problem, you'd do well to listen. If your men can't walk, they'll never make it to the Wall."

Jon fumed in silence for a few minutes before conceding, "He's right about the barracks. It's my intention to move the men to the Wall and quarter them there, but without provisions, they will starve rather than freeze. Most houses brought provisions to carry them through their journey to the Wall, but little more. The Vale and the Riverlands have promised to send ships north to Eastwatch and the Shadow Tower by the end of the month, but until I know for sure, we can't march north. The Reach has also pledged their support, but I'm skeptical that Lannister ships will allow Highgarden's fleet to pass through their waters unmolested."

John opened the shutter and squinted into the glare reflected from the snow. "Damn him, he's right about the training too. I saw it myself at the Wall. Most of these men are cottars, miners, and fishermen. They are strong and willing, but the only thing they know about blades is how to find the pointy end."

Jon perched on the window ledge and sucked in an icy breath. "The truth is, I'm grateful Clegane is here. Without him, we'd never have managed the wight. He was the only one of us with the strength to control it, and he's absolutely fearless."

"What wight?"

Jon turned to face his sister. "He didn't tell you? You haven't heard the rumors?"

Sansa shook her head. "He just told me that he went with you to parlay with Cersei, and no one tells the Lady of the keep the rumors whispered in the barracks. You mean to tell me you took one of the walking dead with you to King's Landing?"

"It was the only way to make the lords of Westeros believe."

"In the future, I'd be grateful if you would confide in me. House Stark has been too long divided against itself. If we don't pull together now, all of Westeros could pay the price."

Jon nodded. "Thank you, Sansa. You've done well. Clegane told you more today than he said to me the entire ride north. Maester Wolkan can put together some plans that will serve so that we can put the men to work right away on the barracks. Perhaps between building and training, we can keep their minds off the cold."

He sighed. "If you don't mind, I'd like some time before I have to face the hall tonight."

Before she opened the door, Sansa quipped, "And Jon, should I lend you Clegane's sword in the future, I'd appreciate it if you'd be more careful with him."

Sansa stepped out of Jon's quarters to be faced with her scowling shield. "What was all the yelling about, Lady? I had half a mind to break it up."

"He didn't like what I had to tell him, and he was none too keen on the source, either." She shrugged. "He may yell now, but he's my brother, and it'll be forgiven by supper."

Quietly, Clegane growled, "I wouldn't know."

Sansa knew the slightest mention of his brother turned Clegane's mood foulest black. She took his arm and demanded brightly, "Tell me about the wight."

Clegane's long nose crinkled. "He smelled."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The hall was rank with mistrust and fear. It buzzed quiet and sharp, like a hornet's nest about to erupt. Everywhere she looked, Sansa saw shifting eyes and shifting alliances. She had half a mind to order another cask of ale opened, but she wasn't sure if that would help or loosen tongues until there was a brawl. Clegane was right. There would be blood on the floor this night.

Jon was squirming uncomfortably in his chair, trying to decide when to speak. Clegane stood close enough that Sansa could hear his mail when he shifted position, and she felt heat radiating from his body against her neck. Much of the evening, he'd stood with his hand on the back of her chair. Whether that was to dissuade any bannermen from approaching the high table or just so that he could put his hands on her quickly if a fight broke out, she didn't know. Either way, Clegane wasn't going to permit another Stark massacre on his watch.

Clegane bent low and murmured into Sansa's ear. "My Lady, perhaps you should consider retiring for the night. The men have had all day to brood and drink. It'll be a miracle if there's no deaths before the king is done speaking."

"I appreciate that, but I think Jon's going to need all the support he can get." She shot a look at Lyanna Mormont, who was looking stonier by the moment.

Loud enough that Jon would hear it, Clegane answered, "Then he'd better get the fuck on with it."

Jon rose with a resentful glance at Clegane, and the shield stepped back into the shadows against the wall. Sansa felt bare without his presence at her back.

"I'd like to thank all of you for coming. It is a hard thing to contemplate war on the edge of winter, and I'm grateful you have answered my summons. As most of you will have heard by now, I took a small party into the North. We were able to capture a wight—"

"Bullshit."

Jon's head snapped up. He narrowed his eyes and scanned the hall, looking for the man who had spoken. Too many heads nodded to determine who it had been. Clegane's blade hissed against its locket as he eased it a few inches from the scabbard. He was once again at her back.

"—and take it to King's Landing to prove to the lords of Westeros that the dead are walking. They have pledged their aid, and we expect supplies and reinforcements to join your muster at Winterfell in the coming weeks. We were also aided by Queen Danerys Targaryan," a murmur swept through the hall, "whose dragons were the best defense against the White Walkers and their army of the dead."

A bench scraped the floor near the back of the hall, and one of the young Karstarks stood. Sansa was surprised that Alys Thenn had permitted Karstark men to accompany their house. She tensed, and Clegane's hand fell heavy on her shoulder. She glanced up at him, but he stared intently at the Karstark.

"Well, well, well. Dragons, White Walkers, lost princesses, and queens! You've had quite a week, Jon Snow. Did you see any fairies?" Dark laughter rumbled through the hall. Tarn Karstark held out his arms appreciatively and turned on the spot. "So where is this wight now? For that matter, where's these dragons?"

Tarn laughed derisively, and Sansa wondered if he was indeed drunk. "We're just supposed to take the word of the bastard Stark and the Lannister Hound for it?"

Sansa glanced at Clegane. His hand was wrapped around the hilt of his sword, and he was watching Jon intently. Clegane was waiting for the order that should have already come; Joffrey would have had the man's head rolling across the floor by now.

"We destroyed the wight. Queen Danerys returned with her remaining dragons to muster her own forces. She has promised to aid us in our fight against the White Walkers in exchange for our allegiance when she attempts to retake the Iron Throne."

Outrage had erupted in the hall. John tried to yell over the cacophony, and cold dread slithered into Sansa's belly when Clegane drew his sword. He slammed the flat of the enormous blade down on the center of the high table and bellowed, "Shut the fuck up!"

Although the chatter didn't stop entirely, most gawked. Clegane glared around at the assembly daring anyone to question his authority. In the stunned silence, he growled, "Your chosen fucking king's speaking. You honestly think I'd come all the way to the North, freezing my ass off the whole way to lie to you? I could be in King's Landing, with better weather, better wine, and better whores."

Sansa was surprised when appreciative laughter rolled through the hall, and the tension ebbed considerably. Clegane glowered darkly at the assembled northern lords, daring any of them to speak out of turn again as he reclaimed his place behind Sansa.

Tired of the bickering, Sansa stood behind the high table. She pressed her hands into the cloth until her fingers turned white and glared out at the assembled men. "Winter is coming, and so is the army of the dead. The time for dissention amongst yourselves based on blood and banners is over. There is only one banner that matters, and that is the banner of the living. Either you stand with the living or you consign your women and children to the army of the dead." Sansa glanced at Jon, and he nodded his thanks. "The time has come for you to decide whose side you are on."

Lyanna stood up from amongst her men. Unlike the other lords, she took her meals with her retainers and dressed in the same rough wools, leathers, and bear furs. She knew the name of every man in her service, every stable lad, every swordsman, and even the names of their dozen or so cavalry horses. She had earned the grudging respect of the other northern lords through her ruthless practicality and stoic honesty. When she spoke, they listened.

Lyanna stepped first upon her bench and then upon the table. An awed hush fell over the room. "When we swear an oath on Bear Island, we see it done. We swore an oath to muster to the King of the North's banner when he called, and nothing has changed. If the Targaryan woman proves her worth against the White Walkers, we will gladly put our support behind her to rout the Lannisters from King's Landing." She nodded in Jon's direction. "Our blades are yours to command."

Murmurs rippled around the hall, but the tone had changed. Sansa sensed that though most houses were still wary, they believed. More importantly, they were willing to recommit their men and blades to defending the North.

As the hall emptied, Sansa continued leaning on the table, glaring at the Karstarks. They remained in their corner, muttering and glancing at the high table.

"Clegane."

"Yes, Lady Sansa?"

"You know where the Karstarks are lodged in my keep?"

"Of course, Lady."

"Take me there."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

When Tarn stumbled drunkenly into his quarters, his arm was draped around the neck of a Stark maid. The giggling maid staggered into the wall under his weight. She righted her cap and glanced up to find Sansa's cold eyes watching the scene impassively. Sansa narrowed her eyes at the maid, and she fled.

"Lord Karstark. I hope you don't mind, but I craved a moment of your time." She flicked her eyes at the chair already drawn up to the fire. "Sit."

Warily, Tarn sat. Sansa stood before the roaring fire, her hands folded at her waist.

"A divided North cannot stand. I'll brook no further dissent from what remains of the Karstark family. If I ever hear a whisper that suggests you might have referred to the King of the North as a bastard or my sworn shield as the Lannister Hound, I will see to it that you are turned out in the snow, and you'll be as bare as the day you were born. If I find that Karstark tongues have caused further dissent, I will remove them, and take the heads as well." Tarn's mouth was a snarl, but he held his peace.

"I have already sent ravens informing Lady Thenn of your conduct and demanding that you be removed from her service. You will leave Winterfell tonight. Get yourself gone within the hour, or you'll go on foot."

Tarn spat, "Who do you think you are?"

Sansa glared down at him. "I'm the Lady of Winterfell. Get out of my keep."