Sansa
The evening after the battle was a grim one. Though the Stark force achieved victory, almost half of the men gave their lives to retake Winterfell. The wounded were in numbers by the hundreds, and some of them might not make it through the night. Luckily for Sansa and Jon, Rickon was not one of those few. But he was too weak to even leave his bed.
Sansa had helped oversee the restoration of the castle to be fit for Starks and not Boltons. In the dungeons were tools of torture and other devices that Ramsay used for his pleasure. All of them were destroyed and Jon had spent most of his day organizing the imprisonment of the survivors and surrenderers of the Houses that betrayed the North. Many of the Bolton men were executed for their atrocities committed at the Red Wedding. The ones who were not there were spared, but not free to go. With Smalljon Umber dead, lordship and command of House Umber would be bestowed upon his ten-year-old son, Ned. Harald KArstark survived the battle and was freezing in a dungeon cell. His fate was yet to be determined.
With the hour of twilight gathered, the lands were quiet. The color of the light and the shadows over the land hid the many bodies and a vast amount of blood that was spilled that day. So much death in one day. And If what Jon was saying about the White Walkers and their army was really true, then it was nothing compared to what was to come.
Sansa stood on the battlements of Winterfell looking out to the lands beyond. The smell of battle still lingered and many were still radiating the desire to kill. She didn't enjoy brooding as much as Jon looked like he did, but she found it peaceful. Her privacy was ended when Littlefinger found her as he always managed to.
"The ravens have been sent. Winter has come for Bolton. The summons has been made and Northern Lords should be arriving in a matter of days. To renew their oaths to your House." He spoke like he knew something she didn't. "Those vows wouldn't need to be renewed if they had joined your cause. Instead, they turned you away until a victor was decided."
"The Boltons created a powerful hold over them through fear and strength of numbers. After tonight, their House will be nothing but a memory. The men of the North have a loyalty than almost anyone south of the Neck."
"Maybe, when your father was their Warden. He was loved and respected. When Robb was King in the North, he betrayed their loyalty for a woman. We all know what became of that choice. If they are to serve under you, you mustn't give them any chance to doubt your will or the strength of your family name."
"I do not doubt their loyalty, only their bravery. The only Houses that will pay for their treachery are the ones that fought for Ramsay."
"Perhaps. For now, they need to see that the North is truly back in the hands of House Stark. And banners of direwolves over the walls won't be enough when they arrive."
Sansa gave a smirk of her own before leaving him in silence. She never liked how he always had the last words but she would let him have them for the night. Because by the time the sun rose tomorrow, the entire North would know what happens to those that would betray and harm her family.
Firstly, she went to go see Jon. He took to the godswood, the only place not desecrated by House Bolton with their presence. She shivered lightly to be back here though. Remembering her wedding and the night that followed. It filled her with hate and disgust.
But her feelings were replaced with serenity and calmness when she saw Jon sitting at heart tree with his dragons. His Valyrian sword was leaning up against the weirwood, clean of the blood that stained the blade from the battle and resting in its scabbard.
The two dragons turned their attention to her when they noticed her approaching. They didn't approach her, however.
Jon looked her way and was glad to see her. "I promised to introduce you, didn't I?"
Sansa hesitated to get any closer than she already was. The dragons were still beasts after all.
"It's alright, they won't bite at you."
"Are you sure?"
"Aye." He scratched underneath the chin of the white one and saw it act almost human. "This is Ygris. The blue one is named Lyarras. Go on, you can touch them."
The blue one, Lyarras, crawled forward to Sansa like it was inspecting her. It stretched out its head to her, waiting for her reaction.
Slowly, Sansa reached her hand out and touched the scales of the dragon. She immediately felt the warmth from the touch and was astonished. She was touching a living, breathing dragon. A creature that had been reduced to nothing but bones and words on pages of books. Until now. These were two of five that existed in the world as far as anyone would know.
She moved her hand down the neck of Lyarras and it reminded her of Lady. It was relaxing to do. "They're both very beautiful." And dangerous. She saw how much death they alone caused at the battle. They would become very powerful given enough time to grow. With them, no one would think to question authority at the risk of being burned.
But something that kept puzzling Sansa was why Jon? Only those of Valyrian blood could tame dragons and as far as she knew, House Stark was free of any such blood. But unlike her, he was a bastard. Whoever his mother was, that might be the reason as to why.
The last of the evening light had faded from the sky and the stars became more prominent. But they were about to be swallowed by clouds that would bring snow.
As much as Sansa wanted to spend more time with the dragons, she had to see to the extermination of House Bolton. "I'll see you on the morrow."
"Sansa," Jon stopped her, "Are you sure you want to do this alone?"
"More than anything."
Jon gave the same comforting smile that their father would give them as children.
She took her leave of her brother and made for the kennels where Ramsay had spent the entire day bloody and unconscious. She made all the preparations for proper justice to be given for all the pain and misery he caused.
Sansa stood by the gates, waiting as Ramsay stirred awake.
"Ah, Sansa…" Ramsay's lips curved into a smile as they always would. "Hello Sansa." She didn't reply, she only met his gaze and didn't break it, staring at him as cold and as full of contained rage. "Is this where I'll be staying now?" Again, she said nothing. But that was enough to give Ramsay his answer. "Hmph, no. Our time together is about to come to an end. That's alright. You can't kill me, I'm a part of you now."
Sansa spoke up. "Your words will disappear, your house will disappear, your name will disappear. All memory of you will disappear."
Ramsay chuckled again before giving his answer to what Sansa said. "Sansa, you should know by now that the scars of pain never disappear. Will I be burned by your bastard brother's dragons? Will that give you the pleasure that I gave?"
"A dragon is too great to put down a mad dog."
Something began growling from the kennels around Ramsay. He looked over at his dogs who began to approach him. "My hounds will never harm me." He said with confidence.
"You haven't fed them in seven days, you said it yourself," she replied.
"They're loyal beasts."
"They were, now they're starving."
One of them got right in front of Ramsay and began to sniff at him. Even Sansa could smell the stench of his blood. "Sit," Ramsay hissed. The dog ignored Ramsay's command and slightly licked his face to taste the blood. "Down, down!" The hounds continued to ignore him and finally, the one in front of Ramsay sank its teeth into his jaw and tore it off. The dogs all followed barked howled as they joined in the tearing apart of their master.
Sansa moved to turn away, but she wanted to watch more. Ramsay's screams were oddly satisfying and were louder than the barks of his hounds as they all began to rip him to pieces. Blood poured from every wound of Ramsay's body and he became bathed in the red. His screams became muddled gurgles, but he wasn't dead yet. He wouldn't be dead until there was nothing left of him but bone and blood.
Finally, after seeing enough, Sansa took her leave of the kennels to get her rest for the night. All the while she walked, she couldn't resist a smile of satisfaction.
The dismissal of the Red Priestess was something that was troubling to many. Some of the Wildlings thought it bad to and it would anger her god that raised Jon back to life. Others thought it good because her magic was evil and it was what lead Stannis Baratheon to his demise.
Nearly an hour later, hundreds of large funeral pyres that were built through the night were completed and the dead were resting on them. There were some that wanted the bones of their fallen returned home while others thought that a funeral at Winterfell would be an honor for the dead.
Jon stood atop the walls of Winterfell looking out to the field of the battle and Sansa stood near him. The remainder of the army stood outside of the castle, listening to him speak a eulogy to honor those who died for the cause. "These men were men of the North. They came from every corner of their lands. They fought to rid the North of men who betrayed them and their kingdom. They shall be remembered not as soldiers who fought against the Boltons, but as heroes who freed the North from their grasp. And now, we lay them to rest with their forefathers." Tormund stood next to Jon holding a bow in his hands and gave it to him. Jon lit an arrow as he knocked it and aimed it at the pyre that Wun Wun and the Fon Ran rested upon. He released it and everyone watched it sail through the air. The arrow found its mark and ignited the pyre in a great blaze. As the flames spread, many other archers fired flaming arrows into the air towards the dead. The field of the battle was now a field of fire, the heat so great everyone could feel it from where they stood.
Above them all, circling around the rising tower of smoke were the dragons. They were calling out as the fires burned. The sounds they made were like a song almost.
The next order of business was the trial of Harald Karstark. In the Great Hall with the other Lords of the North and who supported the Starks and the Clan leaders of the Wildlings that survived, Jon and Sansa took their seats at the High Table. Harald was brought from the dungeons in chains. The white sun that decorated his shirt was still stained with blood.
Sansa stood up from his seat and addressed the accused. "Harald of House Karstark, you stand accused of treason against your King, Robb of House Stark and your liege lord, Rickon of House Stark. You withdrew your banners from the war after swearing an oath of fealty to answer when called upon. You supported Roose Bolton and his bastard son, Ramsay, in their claim as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. How do you answer these charges?"
Harald spat a gob of phlegm to the ground in front of her and Jon. "I am not guilty of any crimes. I swore no such fealty to your brother after he murdered my father!"
"Your father was not murdered, he was executed justly for betraying the orders of his King. He killed the Lannister boys who were innocent of the deaths of your brothers. By not swearing fealty to your King, you were in open rebellion against him. You stood by as Ramsay Bolton flayed innocent people alive. You plotted the death of Rickon Stark with Ramsay Bolton and Smalljon Umber. Do you deny these?"
Harald scoffed at her and looked at Jon. "I will not let my head fall from the block by your blade, bastard! I demand trial by combat. I will die a warrior." He faced death with determination at least.
"My lord," Maester Wolkan said to Jon from behind him.
He turned his head to look at the maester. "I'm not a lord, Maester."
"Forgive me, but a week before the battle had begun, I received a raven from the Citadel informing me that King Tommen Baratheon has forbidden trial by combat throughout the Seven Kingdoms. By law, the North is bound to this as well."
Jon looked back at Harald. "Despite your attempt to show a bit of valor, you will not be granted your demand but neither will you be losing your life today." The lords around Jon looked at him, confused. "There are forty-seven surviving Bolton soldiers, and you'll be joining them to the Wall where you will all take the black. Your daughter Alys will be named Lady of Karhold and the surviving soldiers of your army will be sent home. My brother made a mistake executing your father, I admit that. But justice was demanded and Robb gave it. I share blood with you Harald, and I won't become a Kinslayer. But more importantly, we live in a time when we need every person who still breathes to fight in the war that's coming from beyond the Wall."
Harald snickered at Jon. "And who are you to sentence me, bastard? You even said it just now, you're not a lord."
"And who are you to be granted such mercy?" Sansa demanded. "You've committed enough treason to have your head mounted on a spike. Your death would only be remembered as a traitor's death. This is our only mercy to you. You will take the black and pray that your service will be enough to redeem you of your crimes." Sansa thought Jon was being unjust in his choice, but he was right. They needed as many soldiers as they could get.
Harald was speechless. He looked around at the other lords as if expecting someone to object for him. But all remained silent. He was escorted out of the Great Hall by Hornwood soldiers as Sansa and Jon sat back down.
Don Mazin, the Lord of House Mazin, broke the silence that surrounded the lords and ladies in the Great Hall. "What did you mean when you said 'the war that's coming from beyond the Wall?'"
Jon looked over to Lord Mazin. "I think it'd be better to say when the other lords join us, my lord. But know this, Everything I will tell you is as real as the dragons that fly above this castle as we speak."
"That raises another question." Lady Mormont spoke. "Why are there dragons in the North?"
There was utter silence in the hall as all eyes fell on Jon. "They were a gift left behind by a friend when he died. They chose me as their… father."
"A son of Stark blood with dragons," Lord Mazin announced. "What are we to make such things?"
"I suppose we'll find out soon enough," Jon said.
Sansa dismissed the lords and ladies before they themselves left the Great Hall and went to see Rickon in his bed. They entered his room and saw him lying in his bed, asleep. His upper body was bandaged and his skin was covered in sweat. His breaths were long and steady, a sign of good recovery. This was the first time Sansa really looked at her baby brother since she left Winterfell with Arya and her father. He had grown so much in the years since they'd seen him. His hair was longer and developed curls. His body grew much taller than any normal boy of ten and one years. 'He'll be as tall as Ser Duncan the Tall one day,' Sansa thought, smiling and relieved to see Rickon.
Maester Wolkan approached Rickon's side and folded a wet cloth onto Rickon's forehead. "The arrow that pierced him grazed his collarbone, but I'm afraid it snapped when he fell off your horse. We managed to fix the bone and stop his bleeding, but he will be in much pain. He can't leave his bed for at least a fortnight."
"How long until he's fully healed?" Jon asked.
"It will take months I'm afraid. But he will be able to move better after about three weeks time."
Sansa sat in a chair next to her little brother. "How long until he wakes?"
"He should wake by tomorrow." Sansa grabbed Rickon's hand and gently squeezed it, making small circles with her thumb. His skin was burning. But he had to keep fighting. They finally had their home back. It would be too cruel for him to die now. She stood back up and left the room, Jon following behind her.
The two of them found their way to the top of the Winterfell's walls, looking out to the North. Ygris and Lyarras were flying together a long way off in the distance. Jon seemed to be mesmerized by them, it was like watching a dance. All of a sudden he began to sing quietly.
"Though the winds of winter blow
They will never scare the crow
For when the king comes striking down
Our steel will break his crown
And then the skies will fill with light
Our brothers have won the fight
And then the one who was lost shall win
And the greatest of ages shall begin
The wolves will howl and the dragons cry
Through fire and ice, we will never die."
Sansa became impressed with her brother. She'd never heard Jon sing had a nice voice for it. "Beautiful song. Where did you hear it?"
Jon smiled at her. "I learned it from the dragons in a dream."
