This is it for a while, I have to force myself to take a break and do other things with my free time. Thanks for your support guys and gals. I'll be back in a bit.
Update: I got a great suggestion that I just had to run with. Near the bottom, the United States has been replaced with the United Kingdoms. It sounds better and it makes more sense.
An American in Westeros
Chapter 10
Sansa
February 301
The old kingdoms were shattered. The North as a unified realm no longer existed. Its ashes belonged to King Stannis Baratheon and Lord Hunter Whent. Well it had to belonged to Hunter at least. Nearly a week after the battle, Hunter was in worse condition than when they had started the long journey back to White Harbor. That meant that the new realm that stretched from White Harbor to Duskendale was now ruled by Sansa Whent.
Sansa rode near the head of the army as it marched southwards. At her side was the ever present Brienne of Tarth, her faithful and skilled protector. Trailing close behind them was the recently knighted Ser Podrick Payne, a young man who had seen more of the world and absorbed more knowledge under his many masters than most acquired in their whole lifetime. Around them were a platoon of ever watchful dragoons that circled Sansa like hawk's day and knight. They were an effective screen, keeping out all but the most important and brave messengers. The road they had been marching on should have been well maintained by the army's engineer units but it appeared as if Red Lady's miracle, often being referred to as simply the Miracle within the army, had thrown the weather out of balance. A mighty blizzard had fallen upon the land, beating the road and the army without relent. Only the superhuman efforts of the engineers and hundreds of volunteers had allowed the army to inch their way forward.
Hunter was getting worse, he had shown no signs of consciousness after he had transferred command and despite their best efforts they could not keep him warm. In fact, the unnatural cold was taking a terrible toll on both the wounded and the able. Several men simply failed to wake up every morning, frozen into eternal sleep. At least someone would simply keel over every few hours during the long march. Most of their heavy equipment had been left behind. At Sansa's command, all the remaining munitions and advanced technology had been destroyed and abandoned so as to not slow down the army.
Captain Grimsby did his duty as well as any man could. Under his command the rear guard sortied night and day to hunt their pursuers. With him leading their guardians, the rest of the army never encountered any of Stannis's forces and needed to only worry about the elements.
February 301
In the highest tower of Winterfell, a monster licked his wounds and plotted revenge. Ramsey Bolton, Warden of the North rubbed the best burn salve money could buy all over his body for the third time that morning, gritting his teeth and trying not to scream the whole time. He had doused the flames thrown at him by Hunter Fucking Whent before they could burn through the thickest parts of his armor but his extremities had been savagely burned. His neck and the bottom half of his face was a twisted mask of burns and scars that were turning necrotic. He had killed the first maester sent to treat him in a pain-fueled rage once he learned the extent of the damage done to him and how little of it could ultimately be fixed. He despised the fact that all his meals had to be cut into small pieces or mashed before he could eat them. He was the master of Winterfell yet he was trapped in his sick chamber.
Stannis visited regularly to check on him. With Rickon and Roose dead, Ramsey was Stannis's last, tenuous thread to power. And tenuous it was, Stannis had won the battle but he likely had lost the war. Their only hope lay in using their short-term manpower advantage to lock down the North and hope to ride out the winter. Ramsey was willing to go along with it for the time being. There was nowhere else for either of them to go and no one else for them to work with, in a way they were all prisoners in the North.
March 301
White Harbor streets were far more empty than when the army had left and the city's inhabitants were melancholy as a rule. As the army began to enter into the city proper, women and children began to fill the streets looking for their sons, fathers and husbands. Though Sansa saw a handful of happy reunions, downcast eyes and tears were far more common. The approach to Lord Manderly's keep through the city seemed like an eternity and it was agonizing the whole way.
As the army settled in, Sansa broke away with her retinue and entered the keep. Wyman Manderly was sitting in his broad throne at the far end of the hall surrounded by retainers. Upon seeing Sansa enter, we quickly shooed away those around him and beckoned her forward. "My Lady Sansa." He said "Thank the Old God's and the New that you've made it. We have had so little word through this foul storm. Come in and we shall take good care of you and your men. Please allow my servants to get you settled in and then you must tell me everything."
While she had intended to get to business right away the warmth of Wyman's hall began to seep into her, fighting the chill that had set so deep into her bones. Sansa decided that she could allow herself some small luxury in this hellish week. "Thank you my lord, I shall meet with you shortly."
After she was sure her husband was safely in the hands of the fretful seneschal Grimsby, Sansa slid into a hot bathtub and felt like the world was new again. As she felt the last of the chill ebb out of her she relaxed for the first time since the nightmare started. In fact, she relaxed so much that she actually fell asleep. She was woken up sometime later by a maid sent in with fresh cloths for her. Though somewhat frightened at having fallen asleep in a bathtub while alone, she felt even better than before. Before the only concern had been survival and the next step they needed to take to achieve it. Now the magnitude of the situation truly began to set in. She was the sole ruler of more land than anyone save the King on the Iron Throne. "Well" she thought to herself "The King Who Lost the Iron Throne is more accurate"
Sometime later she met with Wyman Manderly and outlined the situation so far. Wyman listened intently, only interrupting to add that the Vale might be willing to commit more troops to their endeavor. Once she finished, she declared that she intended to remain in charge of the Whent coalition. Wyman supported her unreservedly. As the most powerful remaining Northern lord, his support would be key. "I'm afraid we are mostly out of our new weapons of war and their munitions." Wyman informed her. "And we can't replace them quickly. From what Hunter told us, he spent years building up the weapons that have been lost on this campaign."
"Then we need new weapons" Sansa said. "Do you know where these new weapons and technologies come from. With Hunter in what appears to be a coma, we need continue without him."
"I believe I can answer that to some degree" Seneschal Grimsby said as he slipped into the room. "My lady, I came to inform you that Lord Whent appears to be stabilizing"
"That's wonderful" Wyman said.
Seneschal Grimsby nodded "unfortunately stabilized does not mean improving. The maesters are doing everything they can but they are not confident about when he might wake up, if ever. To that end" He pulled a large, worn leather book from his breast pocket. "Lord Whent left instructions that you were to receive this should anything happen to him. It's his personal journal."
No one had ever read Hunter's journal other than himself. Sansa took it from the elderly man slowly and examined it carefully. While the cover was to worn to make out any details that had once been on it, she opened to the first page to find in beautiful calligraphy…
An American in Westeros
The Journal of Hunter Reynolds
Journal Entry (March 301)
My name is Sansa Whent. This was once my husband's journal but it is looking increasingly likely that it will be mine permanently. I have read this journal countless times but I still don't understand everything. Hunter was not particularly consistent about making journal entries and everything was written for those who have an intimate understanding of the world he grew up in.
My husband, the man I love, is not of this world. Nor is he nobility. He is a stranger from a strange land, here by nothing more than an accident or perhaps divine will. He never came to a conclusion about that and I confess I can't decide either.
So much is explained, the cannons, the rockets, the concrete. It all was commonplace in the world he came from. They were all relics of a home long lost to him. I never realized how profoundly lonely he was in this world. I only spent a year concealing my thoughts and feelings in King's Landing while he has spent the better part of a decade living a double life. It's not just a window into his mind though. There are drawings, descriptions of useful tools and plans for the future. It describes ways of management and governance that are radical but intriguing.
What's horrifying is that our lives, our world was a tall tale that everyone he grew up with knew by heart. He never had the amazing spies that he pretended to (In fact he frequently disparages my new agents). He already told me he knew some of what was going to happen but he never let on that he knew everything… everything that would happen to my family. I want to hate him for letting it all happen but he poured so much of his pain into the book. I can feel his misery at his inability to act. I understand that knowing the future is a curse if one is powerless to change it. In a way the Hunter I knew in the past is already dead. The man I might meet if he ever wakes up will be someone I'll have to get to know all over again.
The most terrifying thing of all though is the doom sweeping upon us from beyond the wall. If he is right, we are running out of time.
March 301
Winterfell was no longer safe for Stannis and his allies, that much was becoming clear. Within its walls, accidents tended to happen to the occupiers. A man would slip and fall to their deaths off the walls almost every day. Well preserved stocks would rot away in hours and none who ventured into the crypts ever returned. Though Stannis was loathe to admit it, it seemed as if sacrificing Rickon Stark to bring the Red God into the field had weakened the barrier for other things to affect the world of the living. It seemed as if Winterfell itself was fighting them. Without any advisors who understood the supernatural elements at play here, the only option he had was to relocate to the Dreadfort. Neither he nor Ramsey were happy to be there though. It was a lesser keep with a fraction of the prestige and the defensibility of their former capitol.
Save for a handful of servants meant to keep it from falling apart, Winterfell was empty.
April 301
It was time to face the inevitable, Castle Black was no longer inhabitable. The snow and cold had been getting steadily worse for nearly two months, worse than even the oldest wildling from the most northern clan could remember. Even those huddling around the hearth fires could not shake the cold from their bodies. Lord Commander Jon Snow, having made so many other decisions that had gone against tradition was now about to be the first Lord Commander to order the Wall abandoned.
By late morning on the fateful day, the land around Castle Black was packed with people. Northerners from Mole Town, Last Hearth and elsewhere joined the last of the wildlings and the Nights Watch. Huddled masses of men women and children of all ages and from all walks of life clumped around reindeer and horse pulled carts and sleds with all their worldly possessions which were mostly food. Alliser Thorne had been sent out with a strong force joined by the newest brother of the Night's Watch, Ser Davos Seaworth. To scout out the path ahead. They were going to try to force their way through the weather and Stannis's forces to the coast. From their they were hoping to get to the Northern loyalists on Bear Island. Potentially heading south from there as well if need be.
Jon Snow took one last tour through the castle to make sure everything was settled. To be honest, even with the immense history of Castle Black, there really wasn't all that much to it. All there was rotten wood and weathered stone. A layer of frost and ice covered almost every surface, even approaching perilously close to the still burning hearth fires.
Sam appeared in the doorway behind him. "Jon it's time to go"
Jon took one last look around before nodding to Sam.
By mid-day, a refugee party of many thousands began their migration southwards, none would ever return.
April 301
"We shall not be returning to Winterfell." Sansa commanded the newly arrived Lord General Willas Wode and the rest of the assembled Northern lords. The general reply was one of shock and anger.
"What?!"
"But my Lady…"
"Without Winterfell there is no North!"
Sansa slammed her fist down on the table. "Open your eyes! You have all been reading the same reports as I have. There is no North to return to. Stannis has poisoned it against habitation with his foul magic." She gestured grandly to the room. "The Wall is empty, the people of the North are coming to us in their hundreds and thousands, those that can anyway. I say we wait. Either Stannis freezes to death in a grave of his own making or he tries to force his way south to us. Either way we defeat him. Either way, the North is lost to us. We must make a new home here." Though they universally despised leaving their ancestral home, they all recognized the necessity. While the argument over the details would continue for weeks, Sansa proved an able diplomat and leader throughout the proceedings.
Journal Entry (May 301)
The production facilities in Harrenhal are working overtime to replace our lost equipment. Unfortunately, there are only so many qualified personnel with limited facilities. I'm told our second cannon should be complete relatively soon. We won't have a full battery for a while.
The agents sent to Bravos to find Arya have returned. It seems that the Faceless Men were unwilling to let my sister go and more than capable of keeping her from me. I'm not too surprised but I am disappointed. I will get Arya back even if I have to burn Bravos to the ground.
Podrick is such a sweet boy and has been such a wonderful teacher in less martial matters. I have set him up with some small lands of his own as thanks. Brienne is teaching me to defend myself. I may not be as big or strong than her but I refuse to be helpless again. Never again.
I have been negotiating with the remaining nobility in my lands. They understand that the situation is changing drastically. Lord Royce of the Vale has been immensely more helpful than I've been led to understand my aunt ever was. While he has been unwilling to commit more troops to my cause. He has agreed to let the threat of the Vale's intervention hanging over the heads of potential enemies.
I actually received a letter from King Tommen. Apparently Hunter had campaigned for my pardon before we left for the campaign. He apologized for his family's treatment of me. He also informed me that while the Sparrow rebels had been mostly pacified and King's Landing was under siege at the time that the letter was written, Dornish forces had marched north and begun to attack the Tyrells in an attempt to reach the Westerlands and wipe out the Lannisters. For the time being, we are completely on our own. That works in our favor though. The longer I am free of Royal interference, the more independent and self-sufficient I can make my realm.
May 301
The cold didn't seem to be getting much worse in White Harbor. Though it had reached the point where it adversely affected their daily lives, it didn't seem as though it would drive them out. New material and personal were being shipped in daily to help fortify the town and prepare for the heart of winter and the things that came with it. Sansa had decreed that anything North of the line between Moat Cailan and White Harbor was to be considered no-man's land to be recovered when Spring arrived. Whilst that line was being fortified, parties were being sent north to find loyalists and refugees and lead them to safety. Ships were being sent along both coasts to do the same thing. The ship that had travelled the farthest in the East Coast reported that they had been forced to turn back just shy of Skagos. Nothing lived north of their they reported.
All those of importance in White Harbor had been summoned to the great hall once again. This time it was to hear an announcement. Sansa stood on a dais constructed for the occasion and towered over those assembled. She gave the crowd a moment to quiet down and then dove into her speech. "Lords and Lady's. Much has changed in the past three years. The Seven Kingdoms are no more; the lands north of Highgarden have been thrown into chaos. Many of us are refugees, unable to return to our homes, perhaps for the rest of our lives. If we cannot rely on the alliances and ways of old, we must forge a new path for ourselves. We must band together and forget the differences of the past. We must unite to face the coming days. We can no longer be the North and the Riverlands, in fact we have not been the North and the Riverlands for some time. That is why I have declared the lands under our control the United Kingdoms, the newest kingdom of Westeros!"
There was a pregnant silence throughout the room. No one was really sure what to do next. Then a pair of hands began quietly clapping in the back. More joined it and the applause and cheers began to fill the hall as the gathered people began to celebrate their newfound independence. She felt overwhelmed with pride at her accomplishment. She had held her disparate people together begun forging them into a new, unified nation. She would never again allow herself or those she cared about to be at their enemy's mercy.
The first man to start clapping was at the back of the hall, the gaunt wisp of a young man in an ornate wheelchair ordered his attendant to take him back to his chambers. He didn't want to steal his wife's thunder; this was Sansa's moment.