THE WILD SISTER
The small cousins didn't like where she'd led them.
The river ahead was wide and moving quickly. The lands she'd left were flat, full of farms and forests. Her pack had been large and powerful in those lands but she could not stay where she'd been. So she left and many of the small cousins had followed her far from their usual hunting grounds. Others had fallen away during the journey, the smell of prey and the hunger in their stomachs driving them.
The ones who'd stayed were not the strongest, they depended on her and followed her because of it, yet for how much further wasn't certain. Even now the others sniffed about the river's edge, dipping paws in to test the current before retreating back away from the edge. Some whined in frustration, wanting to turn back, to move away from the wide, quick water.
They wanted easy prey, sheep, cows, goats…
What drove her here wasn't the hunt or the hunger she felt. It was a pull, a need she'd ignored in the past but couldn't anymore. The others were disappearing from the world, disappearing from her dreams. Her sister and the quick brother both lost in these lands. The two in the cold lands had gone even further, the savage brother to some place of salt and strange beasts, the other had just gone. Her dreams didn't touch him anymore.
The closest had been the quiet brother, but now he was growing distant again.
This was the river where she found the woman she knew from long ago. The one who'd sung to her when she was scared. The one who'd been cold and still.
It was that pack she sought when she leapt into the water, the cold was immediate but she was already pushing out towards the other side. Others followed but not all, a few could not make the trip she was trying. They followed as the current pulled her and the others downstream, yipping and calling out while she focused on the swim.
They had been carried a long ways down from where she'd wanted to be but when she crawled up the bank she merely shook herself dry and lay upon the soft ground. Letting her legs and heart rest. The ones who'd crossed with her were pulled further but found her after a time. This pack was smaller now, the one across the river howling at her abandonment of them.
She howled back, as did the other bold ones about her.
They moved slowly through the trees, all were tired but the closer they came to where she'd wanted to be the greater the smell grew.
Not just man smell, but dead man smell.
It led her to a circle of rocks near the river. The others went straight to digging at the pile of ground which smelt of meat. Beneath they found a man, dead for some time but the meat still good. Her hunger screamed for her to tear a leg free but she could not. Something about this man was known to her. It made her show her teeth and back away.
To her the meat was tainted. The others smelt no taint and feasted.
She found something else from the dead man. A scent. A scent she'd long forgotten but could smell again. She followed it a little further.
The rock ring was tall but she leapt over it with ease. Inside was the stink of men but it was old and no men were there now. Men had stayed here some time and had left some days ago. Then others had come without staying long. She cared little for most of the smells, save for the one which gave her comfort.
The one she knew from long ago.
The one who was not so far now.
SANSA
It's getting colder.
Every day we get closer, and every day it gets colder.
Sansa hoped that wasn't an ill omen. They were heading North and winter was coming after all, the cold to be expected. It meant her army's march through the Neck was slowed less by rains and more by light snows. As of late when Ghost came to her tent she cuddled up even closer for his warmth. Those were the good things.
It was the thought of being another day closer to Roose Bolton which scared her.
She shivered and clutched her cloak tight about her.
"Messenger coming down." Willem said from his place at the head of her guard, pointing towards the front of the march. "Not alone either."
Willem had taken command of the company of mounted warriors who acted as her guard during this march. He was good company and she was glad of him most days, yet deep down Willem wasn't the knight she wanted at her side. Still, with Maege commanding the center and riding alongside Sansa it made staying in good spirits a touch easier. Often Willem and the lady would debate the merits of both the North and Vale. Of whether it was more appropriate to wed sheep or bears.
The Greatjon commanded the rear because she wished a quick pace and gods help the man who fell behind when on his watch. So that meant the messenger coming from the front had been sent by Howland. The crannog lord had command of the front of the column, a sign of respect as much as practicality, it was wise to let the man guide them through his home.
Realizing the messenger came from Howland made choice of escort following behind the rider very confusing.
"Finally, you'll see my lady." Willem called over to Maege. "The Wolf will have my side on this, never met a wolf that didn't prefer a good sheep."
"To eat you fool." Maege laughed. "I think him more likely to marry a wolf than a sheep!"
Sure enough, following right behind Howland's rider was Jon, carrying the direwolf banner above him. She had to force herself not to stare at him as he came before them. It was a losing battle, her eyes taking in his stern and expressionless face. A face she missed so.
To see him smile, she thought, it would be so much better to see him smile once more.
Jon didn't smile of course, nor did he join the messenger in riding on to her, instead turning his mount to come alongside Willem.
He's always ahead or behind now, she lamented, never beside me.
As I made it.
During this march Jon had been given command of the outriders. Howland and Uncle Brynden had suggested it themselves so she could allow it without being seen as favoring Jon. It meant he often spent more time riding about the edges of their army, not at her side as it had once been.
Nothing is as it once was.
"Your grace!" The messenger hailed. "Lord Howland bids me to tell you a company of riders approaches from the north. And they are not of the North!"
That surprised her. Howland had sent word for the crannogmen to seal the Neck as much they could, attacking any traveller or party not of a house loyal to her. So a force of riders coming through the Neck could either be very good or very bad.
"Are they known?" Sansa asked.
The man smiled.
"Ser Jon says it looks to be a company of men from the Vale with Hallis Mullen at the head."
Very good news indeed.
It had been some time since Hal had left with Yohn Royce to sail to Sweetsister for the rendezvous. His return alongside men of the Vale was very welcome in Sansa's eyes.
"Lord Reed has sent an escort to meet them and bring them before the queen, they should arrive shortly!" The man continued.
"And who is among them?" Maege asked.
The messenger then glanced back to Jon who was still speaking with Willem.
"I don't know m'lady. The ser is the one who saw them I was only told to tell you of m'lord's…"
"Well if Ser Jon's the one who saw it why isn't he the one telling us?" Maege asked and scowled at the messenger's shocked response.
Jon must have heard for he turned his horse towards them. Sansa held up a hand, signaling the stop of the march. She didn't stop though, continuing to ride until she could almost reach out and touch him.
Instead she clutched the reins even tighter.
"It was you who spotted them?" She asked and Jon nodded.
"It was. I counted almost four score riders, carrying many banners including the one of House Royce. I know sigils better than faces so I was telling Willem of who I saw so you'd know who to expect."
Sansa was touched by the consideration until she remembered doing such was what a good outrider would report.
"I think he spotted Ser Morton Waynwood." Willem put in with a sour look on his face. "Man owes me gold…"
"Ser Mychel Redfort as well." Jon added. "I recognized him well enough."
"Ser Mychel! It will be good to see him again!" Sansa smiled as the memory of the young knight who had helped them so. "Is Lord Yohn not among them?"
Jon shook his head.
"It was banner of House Royce of the Gates I saw and they have sent…"
"Here they come!" Willem heralded.
Sure enough Sansa saw a large group of mounted men riding down the column towards her. The banners of the Royces of Runestone and the Gates alongside those of House Waynwood.
"Ride back to your lord." Sansa commanded the messenger. "Tell him to find a place for us to make camp as soon as possible, I would have our guests and the men rest. It is an occasion to celebrate."
Though the grey skies gave little hint she knew it was only just past midday. Yet an early stop would be welcomed by the army who kept a good pace so far. Maege made to send word to the Greatjon to leave the rear to his second to join her when he was able.
The scout put his spurs to the horse and took off again, Jon looking to do so as well.
"Not you ser." She said. "I'd have you here."
"I would go and tell my men to set up watches…"
"I'm sure Howland will know to do so when you don't return. Stay at my side…" She paused then and a reason for him to do so became obvious. "The Vale lords will be gladdened to see how far their help has taken us both."
He shifted uncomfortable then but made no more arguments. They both sat upon their horses in silence watching the Vale riders come on. It didn't matter they weren't speaking, just being this close was good enough for her.
That's what you thought about the bridge.
Just the one moment and all would be well. Look how that ended.
She focused then on her approaching allies, for they were almost upon them. She saw Mychel first, riding beside a gaunt man in a fine cloak. Beside that man rode a woman, one who suddenly broke away from the others and urged her horse ahead of the rest.
Sansa gave a cry of delight to see her face.
"Myranda!" She called out, not believing her eyes. "My lady!"
Her friend was laughing as she rode up to them, her eyes and smile as full of life. The buxom girl threw aside her cloak as she reached out to grasp Sansa's hand.
"When I first met this girl she was but a stone, then a lady and now a queen! Such a lovely transformation." Myranda laughed again before bowing her head towards her. "In all seriousness Sansa, seeing you again, alive and well, makes me happy beyond words."
"It gladdens my heart to see you too Myranda." She said. Yet she was also shocked that her friend was here, even more confused as to why she had come. It was a strange thing indeed for the woman to be sent to join a marching, even if they were friends.
"As welcome at this is I expected maybe your brother or possibly your father…"
Myranda laughed as if she'd expected such a question.
"Those two bores? The Vale can and will offer better to the Queen in the North. I, Lady Myranda Royce, am to be your handmaiden." She placed a hand upon her breast and said the last word with a note of seriousness. "For a beauty such as you has as much need for a good handmaiden as emissaries. Speaking of!"
By then Ser Mychel and the man she thought to be Ser Morton had joined them. Both bowing from their horses, Mychel shooting a quick nod to Jon afterwards.
"Queen Sansa, we have not yet met but I am Ser Morton of House Waynwood, my mother the Lady Anya sends her regards." Morton said as he took her hand in his and kissed it lightly. "I am here representing my family as well as Ser Harry Hardyng in all matters of…"
"Oh Morton there's time enough for that!" Myranda huffed. "And surely better places."
The knight appeared dumbfounded at the interruption but Sansa was grateful. The mention of Harry the Heir brought back foul memories of Petyr. It also made her wonder why the heir even needed to be represented.
"I was charged by Lord Robert to say he misses you your grace." Mychel said then, kissing her hand much as Morton had. "I'm to represent Bronze Yohn in any way you'd have me."
"There's much we need discuss." Morton added quickly. "For I bring news and…"
"Good sers and lovely lady." Sansa interrupted, not wishing to hold court upon horseback in the open. "I have given word to camp for the night and once an area is found I would have us all break our fast together. And speak of the friendship between the North and Vale."
"As you wish your grace." Mychel nodded while Morton looked to argue before he caught Myranda shaking her head.
"A good meal would be most welcome." Morton said instead.
Willem volunteered to help get the sers and their party settled in and began haranguing the Waynwood knight as soon as they rode off. Myranda stayed behind though, riding up close to Jon.
"I pray the good sers will forgive me for being so selfish but I am starved for conversation from a fairer partner. Is it safe to join your queen for a ride?" Myranda asked with a devilish smile on her face.
"I…well yes, if she so wishes and with her guard about…"
"I thought her favorite guard was right here!" Myranda ran a hand along Jon's shoulder, annoying Sansa greatly.
Randa can act however she wants with others, she thought, she cannot have him.
"Myranda!" She said, struggling to keep a civil tone. "If you would like to ride together it would be my pleasure. Don't pester Jon so."
"Pestering is it?" Myranda laughed but rode back to her side anyways, the two young women beginning a slow leisurely ride.
"Am I to follow your grace or would have me elsewhere?" Jon asked from his place beside the much larger collection of guards.
The choice between the two options should've been simple. Made using the same detachment she'd struggled so hard to maintain. Yet Myranda touching Jon bothered her so and having him around her again felt too good to end.
"One good knight should be enough Jon, more than enough." She said, beckoning him to follow.
And with that the two rode away with Jon not far beyond. He kept a respectful distance considering they were still beside the column and as safe as could be. She doubted he could hear much even if he tried.
"Your half brother is as somber as I remember." Myranda said as she looked over her shoulder wickedly. "As comely too."
That Sansa did not like either. Myranda Royce had been a woman wed and was much more worldly than she. The lady was also cunning, more cunning than most gave her credit for. And capable beyond that, the lady had run her father's household for years and knew much and more of the secrets of the Vale.
So while Sansa thought her a friend she knew to think her a rival as well.
"You did not travel through the swamps to look upon Jon, Myranda. Nor just to act as a handmaiden" Sansa said not unkindly.
"Unfortunately no." Myranda leaned in to whisper. "Men are so sensitive, if the others knew my father entrusted me to act as an envoy they'd think little of him. Inviting us to their beds is one thing, letting us join them at the council table quite another."
Sansa saw the wisdom there. Myranda was brighter than most of her bannermen it was sad to say and having her counsel would not be such a bad thing.
"I also bring good news." Her friend continued. "The strength my father and his cousin promised your cause awaits you at Sweetsister. Almost four thousand swords and horse with more being raised in the Vale if there is need of it."
That meant her army had more than tripled in size. It also meant she could finally put some of her many plans in motion.
"This is wonderful news Myranda." She said, suddenly full of hope.
"Randa, sweet Sansa, Randa. Remember we are friends. Oh and be sure to act surprised when one of the fine men that accompanied me tells you this news again. It was to be their duty, not mine."
At that they both laughed. It was refreshing to be with a woman who did not worry so about what men thought. To Myranda men were but playthings yet Sansa could never see them as such, having suffered so at their hands.
"I'm happy to see I'm needed here." Myranda made a disapproving sound as she looked to Sansa's hair. "A queen needs ladies in waiting does she not? I saw but one woman back there and she seemed more at home with a mace than a brush."
"Lady Maege is a warrior and a dear friend. I'd ask you speak kindly of her, she is ever loyal and good to me."
"I'd rather not upset such a woman, have no fear your grace." With that Myranda began to whisper again. "I'm meant to upset others in truth. Ser Morton may be here to represent House Waynwood in battle but it is Harry the Heir he is truly representing. Lady Waynwood stills eye a match between the heir to the Vale and yourself."
Sansa was surprised at that. She thought the taint of Littlefinger would have put such a plan to rest. It was a hard enough to thing to rule with men serving her, having a husband now could only complicate things.
Her thoughts on the matter were hidden poorly and Myranda laughed.
"I thought you'd be against it." Myranda said. "I am here to turn you against it anyways. Father would prefer such a match for me, with our newly gained lord status it would suit for us to join to the heir. Lady Waynwood rejected me when I was but a steward's daughter. Now I am a lord's daughter whose father also happens to be Lord Protector of the Vale. Add to that the friendship of a queen of course."
Gods she is even more cunning than I thought, Sansa realized, but is that so foul?
Myranda's plots could never be compared the dark dealings of Cersei Lannister. She had little use for betrayal and suffering. The lady's intrigue was worn on the skirt of her dress as it spun about during a feast or in a bawdy tale to be shared amongst women.
"The heir is yours if you so want him Randa, my support for the match as well." Sansa smiled, liking the idea she could help at least one person be happy.
"You wicked girl." Myranda giggled. "Are you so eager to escape that match because you already have one in mind? Some fine man you've met on your travels?"
"Hush!" Sansa said instead of denying it, a mistake she realized immediately.
"Hush? So this is a secret lover?" Myranda gave her a look like cat cornering a mouse. "Dear Sansa, those are the best kinds."
"I've no such thing, don't speak so…" Sansa willed Jon not to be listening, praying he was not. "A queen cannot just be with whoever she wants."
"Then what is the point of being queen?" Myranda scowled. "True some lords may disapprove of your choice but they always will. As long as its not them or their brothers or sons they always find suitors lacking. It's all about them serving their needs and not our happiness. They're rather feel at ease than let us be happy."
Myranda's words hit her hard.
"Scorn him Sansa." Howland had said. "Let him become just another knight in your service and not some threat to a lord's ambition or pride. Where you would go to him send another. Speak with him but not alone. Show him no favor you would not show another of his rank. To do otherwise...well my old friend is rarely wrong. If you truly care for him do as your father and I once did. Protect Jonfrom this world…as he would protect you."
Howland's words had been spoken with such certainty, the meaning so terrible, that she'd been too afraid to return to Jon's chambers that night. Throughout the night her sleep was broken by terrifying thoughts of Jon suffering for her love of him. For she did love him. She'd accepted that as the purest truth she could. She loved him so she wanted to stand up to yell it so all her lords could hear.
Yet she feared Howland was right.
She'd already risked Jon once for her own ends and he still suffered for it. Risking him for a love she carried which he could be disgusted by, it was not in her to do.
To betray someone she loved for the sake of love was not something she could ever do again.
So Sansa had done as Howland bid. She set Jon aside as best she could. Throwing herself into ruling, keeping her mind filled with parchments, meetings and other tasks so her thoughts would not linger back to him. She had even changed her daily routine so she would see Jon less, going so far as to put him in a place at the council table where his face was barely visible to her.
It had fallen to Howland and others to tell her of him. For she had that need. To know he was recovering and was not alone.
Yet reports and words about Jon hadn't been enough. Not nearly enough.
Her resolve had broken when she'd seen him in the practice yard. Rather than walking away as she should've Sansa had stayed and watched. Rather than allowing him to walk the castles alone she had followed. Foolishly, selfishly thinking by going to him things would be as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn't put a wall up between them but now expected to find Jon waiting for her on the other side.
Instead she'd found Jon had put a wall up himself.
He had come to her the day after their encounter on the bridge. He had looked terrible, begging her forgiveness for his foul attitude. While Sansa wanted to tell him there was nothing to apologize for she hadn't, instead accepting the apology and letting him be on his way.
The worst part had been seeing that black glove upon his hand.
When he'd reached for her hand on the bridge she'd pulled away. Her strength had been so close to breaking just before. She'd feared his touch would destroy all her efforts and send her into his arms. So she'd pulled away.
He'd believed the worst of her for it, and she could not blame him. Most of her life she'd been a foolish girl who hated ugly things. Yet nothing about Jon was ugly to her. To her his hand was a mark of the devotion.
A mark of love.
"You're my knight of songs." She'd tried to tell him.
Perhaps he hadn't heard. She liked to think he hadn't, the alternative too much to bear. Sansa had held her tears until she was in her chambers, away from any eyes. Then she had leaned back against her door and let them come in long, body shaking sobs.
She still cried some nights. Blaming herself and the world for it.
Yet Randa's words now opened her eyes to something she hadn't considered.
"You think my lords would give me poor counsel?" Sansa asked her friend. "To meet their own ends?"
Even as she asked the question she felt foolish for doing so.
Of course they would.
"Lords protect castles, lands, and their titles but most of all my dear queen…" Myranda shook her head. "They protect themselves."
Protect Jon he told me, she thought, like he and father had.
Suddenly it all lay before her. Myranda had merely given voice to doubts she should have had from the start. To love Jon without being seen as monsters would mean the truth of him would have to be known. That a lie would have to be exposed.
And the liar with it.
He used your need to protect Jon to protect himself, she raged, he used your love and trust against you.
She was gripping her reins so tightly the whites of her nuckles showed.
"They have to protect themselves Randa." Sansa said, barely holding in her anger. "The wrath of their kings and queens can be terrible things."
"Almost as bad as a woman's." Myranda agreed.
JON
"This doesn't make sense."
"It's what the Queen wants." Howland responded as mounted his horse. "And I serve House Stark in all things."
"Of course but to send you now? It's the middle of the night! And we are days away yet…"
"The Queen commands, I obey." The lord said simply.
A score of riders holding torches awaited Howland's coming at the edge of the camp. Darkness had long since been upon them and a light snow was falling about. Few in the army appeared to care of the weather though, for the camp was loud and full of cheer at the news of the Vale army set to join their fight. Sansa had arranged an actual celebration, it was being held in a great tent even as Howland and he spoke.
One Jon had been invited to, but not Howland.
Howland's been by her side since Greywater Watch.
Why send him away during such a celebration?
He rarely questioned Sansa but ordering Howland to ride out of their camp into the dead of night was strange. They had days to prepare for the attack on Moat Cailin and as far as he knew there was no reason Howland himself was needed to inspect matters there beforehand.
Even stranger was who she had chosen to command his forces in his absence.
"My lord you know I did not ask for this. That I would never have asked Sansa for such a thing." He looked up at Howland. They weren't close but he had a healthy respect for this man who had served Sansa faithfully in all things. "Your men should not be mine to command."
"Jon, my men know you, they respect you and I have told them of my respect for you as well. Any man raised by Eddard Stark has my trust in these matters." Howland turned his horse away then before shooting him a final look. "I was not given the chance to but give my regards to the queen. And be safe Jon."
With that Howland kicked his horse and was off into the night. The men who closed in around the lordwere not even his own but some of Maege's. That bothered Jon as well.
It's more like an exile than a command, he thought, what could he have done?
As he began his journey back to attend the celebration he was very late for Jon spotted another man he knew. One who was almost meant to be at Sansa's festivities yet seemed thoroughly at a loss among the maze of tents.
"Ser Mychel." He hailed. "I thought to find you at the Queen's tent."
Mychel smiled to see him. His arrival among the Vale party had been a welcome surprise. Sansa could always stand more true knights like the man before him.
"And I thought to find the commander of the crannogmen!" Mychel offered his hand. "Congratulations sir, that's what? A third of this army?"
"It's Lord Reed's command, I only serve until they are reunited in short time."
"It's still an honor." Mychel put in. "Not even a surprise to me. You've been pegged as commander by others as well. You knew that Bronze Yohn ordered his men to follow you should Willem fall?"
He hadn't. Jon was about to say so when he remembered a conversation with Willem long before their attack upon the Twins.
"We'd best hope I survive this bloody thing, I won't even tell you which ugly sot is meant to take up the charge if I fall."
I owe that man a beating.
"Is there something you need?" He asked Mychel, he didn't think the knight was wandering around in the dark just wishing to congratulate him.
"We need to arrange some guides to get the Greatjon and I to the coast so we to take ship to the sisters." Mychel looked about to ensure no one was listening but the men around them seemed too intent on song and drink to care. "It's us the Queen wishes to join Bronze Yohn when he sails for the Dreadfort."
Earlier that day a council had been called to work out the details of their attack upon the North. Jon had taken part of it, and to his shock, had found himself back at Sansa's side at the table. It had been an awkward thing to sit so far away only for the Greatjon to laugh and pull him up and drop him in his appointed seat.
Sansa had smiled at his confusion.
"I thought being back in the North we would go back to our old seating arrangements." She'd said. "If you don't mind."
He hadn't but he'd kept his gloved hand under the table the whole time, out of fear of offending her.
During the discussion that followed their strategy for taking Moat Cailin was confirmed with their Vale allies, one fairly familiar to them since Howland and Bronze Yohn had agreed upon it themselves moons prior. It was the siege of the Dreadfort which took up more of the council's time.
That attack had been proposed by Ser Mychel, on behalf of Yohn and although it had sounded a sound plan Jon had spoken against it at first.
"The Dreadfort is not named lightly." He'd said. "It is a strong fortress with natural defenses and once held out under a siege for two years when they had no army in the field to threaten their attackers lines. Nor did that siege occur during a northern winter. We should not try and storm it unless forced to."
Others argued him on that, Ser Morton in particular but the northern lords largely agreed.
"Ser Jon is right, trying to take the castle would be costly and dangerous to attempt." Maege had said, sounding somewhat irritated having to debate northern castles with men not of the North. "That doesn't mean a siege there would be wasted though."
"Just imagine how those standing with Bolton will react?" The Greatjon had asked. "How strong will Lord Leech look with his seat under siege by our alliance while the queen marches towards her home?"
"You would ask our men to simply stand outside the walls and freeze?" Morton had challenged.
"Some may freeze but more would live than trying to take that castle." Jon argued right back. "It may even draw some of the Bolton army away on a long march from Winterfell."
"Let his men fear for their homes for once." Sansa had agreed. "How it will look and what it could cost Lord Roose matters more than a bloody victory. Let the Boltons bleed instead of the Vale."
"It's about time someone bled Roose besides Roose." The Greatjon had grumbled.
The Umber lord's hatred of Roose Bolton was clear which is why Jon had expected him to be part of the march on Winterfell, not the siege of the Dreadfort.
He'd thought the same of Mychel as well.
"You just arrived, you're to leave again this quickly?" Jon asked and Mychel nodded.
"That was always the plan. As much as I want to help pull down Roose Bolton and his bastard I'm needed at the Dreadfort more." Mychel's face darkened then. "I know much of its defenses and how the Boltons have treated sieges."
Jon suspected he knew where Mychel got such information from but not why he was so full of anger towards the Boltons. He had never suffered at their hands like Jon's family had.
Mychel had more reason to be disposed to them in truth.
"Did you know Domeric Bolton?" Mychel asked then.
"I saw him once or twice at Harvest Feasts but I can't remember ever speaking with him." Jon answered truthfully, his father at the time had warned him away from doing so. Lest Lord Roose be offended and seek some form of redress, and Eddard Stark plainly had foul thoughts of what that could mean.
"Domeric was my father's ward. I had three older brothers but I only ever had one brother I chose." Mychel said sadly. "Domeric was a good man, too good a man for his father or what his family has come to. My brothers and I always knew that bastard killed him…and what does his father do? Legitimizes my friend's murderer."
Jon had heard those rumors too when Sansa's men would speak of Ramsay Snow. It was a foul thing to think but little compared of the crimes he was held responsible for. How Mychel spoke of Domeric reminded him of how Robb would speak of Theon.
Robb was always a brother to me, he thought, I guess he's the brother I choose now as well.
"Domeric told me much and more of his lands and the history of the Dreadfort. Of the battles fought there." Mychel continued. "That castle was supposed to be his. I'd rather seen it torn down than given to his killer."
"I trust no one better than Lord Yohn and yourself to do so Mychel." Jon said before reflecting on what else he'd just learned. "Still I hadn't thought the Greatjon would be leaving as well."
"Yohn always wanted a northerner to guide us in this." Mychel shrugged. "His first choice was you but when I suggested such to the Queen she preferred to send the Greatjon instead."
She'd rather keep me than the Greatjon?
The idea shocked him until he thought on it a bit more and felt foolish. Of course she'd rather send the Umber lord. He'd be a good representative of the North and could even try and rally support from nearby houses, including from his own.
He told Mychel he'd find guides for him the coming morning and the two continued on towards Sansa's tent. Even from afar the large meeting tent sounded with shouts, laughter and singing. Almost on instinct he thought to be elsewhere but being late to this celebration was bad enough, not to attend at all would be an insult to Sansa.
Yet it turned out he was meant to be even later. For standing without the tent was Ser Morton, and when he caught sight of the pair he hurried towards them.
"Mychel! Mychel I heard you sought the good ser and was hoping you'd return with him." Morton smiled as he blew into his hands to keep warm. "Go on and warm yourself while I have a word or two with Ser Jon. There's hot mulled wine waiting."
Mychel did not need to be told that twice and quickly excused himself, leaving Jon with this heir he couldn't claim to have seen before today.
What would he need to speak to me of?
"Ser Jon, it is a pleasure to meet you." Morton held out his hand and they shook quickly as the heir returned to warming himself again. "I'm sorry to have not done so sooner."
"And you ser…how is your lady mother?" He asked unsure of how to proceed. "And your brothers?"
"Well and, I hope, warmer than I. Donnel now has four hundred men guarding the Bloody Gate under him. Yet he envies me this adventure." The man said with a grin.
An adventure to him, life or death struggle for Sansa.
Are there so many knights of summer even as winter is upon us?
He had heard such talk in Renly's camp as well. It was an effort not to think poorly of the man for it. Nor did Morton wait for a response, as if in a hurry to get to a point.
"Well truly Jon, if I may call you Jon, my mother bid me to speak to you on a certain matter of our mutual interest."
There was little he could imagine Lady Anya needing to speak to him about. Jon had barely spoken with her and even less with her other sons.
Taking Jon's silence as a signal the knight continued.
"As you know Ser Harry Hardyng is the heir to Robert Arryn and thus heir to the Vale itself. He is also my mother's ward." Morton seemed proud of the fact and then added quietly, "He is also not yet betrothed."
It came together quickly then.
Littlefinger's plot, he realized, the vile man haunts us still from beyond the grave.
In the Vale the proposal had bothered Jon because it had come from that evil man. While he could still claim that as a reason it was not the first one he thought of now.
They want to take her away from you. Give her away to another.
"I have heard this idea before." He admitted. "You would have Sansa wed to Ser Harry? Why speak to me of it?"
"You are her only living male relative. My lady mother deemed it polite to ask your blessing to propose such a match." The man said with courtesy he probably hadn't felt from Jon's question. "It also binds the strength of the Vale to the North in a much more permanent way."
It angered him how much that made sense. Sansa could have a great army at her back and an able knight if she married the heir. Whereas Jon offered offered several hundred borrowed warriors and a scarred, ugly body besides.
I have only that yet they still want my blessing.
What more could the gods want from me?
"Sansa is Queen in the North. I believe she needs no ones permission to marry whomever." Jon said curtly. "Certainly not mine."
"Permission? Well no of course…we just thought to give the courtesy…" The knight said, sounding surprised. "If I gave offense I did not mean to."
Jon knew how unfair he was being then. Morton was not the one giving offense here. He and his mother were doing the honorable thing in seeking his blessing. More than honorable considering Jon's status. His whole life he had been scorned by most highborns and now, having recently been accepted by some, he was kicking dirt at them.
Worst of all he was acting with anything but honor. They offered Sansa an army and protection and asked simply for his blessing to do so. And he meant to deny them that simply for his own selfish wants.
And she's not yours to keep, he lamented, she can't be.
"Ser I apologize for my tone, you deserve better." Jon bowed some before Morton. "Forgive me, it has been a hard ride and I thank you for this courtesy. Propose any match you wish to Sansa."
Morton's face broke into a beaming, satisfied smile, his hand clapping Jon's shoulder.
"You live up to your reputation ser, you bite yet with honor! A wolf if there ever was one." The man gestured towards the tent. "Have a cup of wine with me in celebration? It would warm me."
Jon followed Morton into the tent where his mood could not have been more out of place.
The meeting tent had been turned into somewhat of a feasting hall. While it lacked the food to mark it a feast in truth the long table was filled with lords and knights who argued and laughed.
Some had even taken up a horribly out of tune rendition of The Dornishman's Wife.
At the center of the good cheer, with many gathered about them, were Sansa and Myranda. Myranda's popularity with the men was obvious, and for more reasons that just the dress drawn too tight about her chest. In the short time since he'd arrived in the tent she'd already caused an outburst of laughter among the crowd. Leading the conversation and attention of several men at a time.
It was the exact opposite of Sansa. While the lady laughed and touched men's faces and arms Sansa sat serenely while others approached her. She laughed when others laughed, smiled when spoken to and gave each man such attention Jon imagined they felt as if they were the only two in the room.
When Morton waved over a serving man for some wine Jon was almost tempted to drink of it. His resolve held though, the Waynwood knight having to accept a cup of water against his goblet of wine. He had forsaken the drink since the morning after the tower. He'd been in such a foul way he hadn't even been able to train, let alone forgive himself for his treatment of Sansa.
So he'd scorned it in favor of water, pain and foul dreams.
And in the midst of this merriment he felt like he was the only one who would.
"Only you could be surrounded by such good tidings and keep that long face." Willem laughed as he thumped Jon's shoulder. "Morton, do you have my gold?"
"I told you…"
"No? Then away with you, this smelly beast is mine to torment." Willem laughed as Morton took his leave. "Did you know that man writes poetry? I've heard a rumor…"
"Speaking of collecting debts I owe you a beating." Jon said and was about to explain himself when he got a queer feeling.
Sure enough glancing back down the table he discovered the entire group collected around Sansa was staring at him. That included Sansa.
It made him uncomfortable in the worst way.
"Ser Jon!" Myranda called with a smile and a playful tone. "I was just saying I remembered a somber knight in the Vale yet not one so handsome! A toast to your beautiful queen and her wolf!"
Cheerful laughter rang out and cups were raised up. Willem put his hand on Jon's shoulder and cheered as loud as any. If it was a jest at his expense he couldn't tell so he did the safe thing, raising his cup to the lady.
Unlike the others who quickly lost interest in him Sansa's gaze lingered. When their eyes met she raised her cup again to grin, not moving those blue eyes away. As if on reflex he did the same, and as her smile grew he couldn't help but smile with her.
Until Morton took a seat beside her and their moment was lost.
She is for the heir.
The thought came unbidden and the smile left his face. He looked downwards towards his now empty cup. Suddenly all the talk and laughter was booming about him and he couldn't be here anymore. It was too much, almost suffocating to him.
Placing the cup upon the table he walked out, ignoring Willem as he spoke to him.
She will have a castle and the Vale to love her as well as the North.
He burst out in the cold air, breathing it in deeply.
You can be her sword and nothing more.
His hands were fists at his sides and he thought to run from the camp. To go and seek some quiet dark place. Perhaps even some wine.
He had almost decided to do so when a sound off to his side caught his attention and he jerked his head towards its source. There he spotted Ghost rounding the side of the tent, the wolf's large white form a stark contrast to the darkness beyond. It pleased him to see his friend but something was off about the beast.
The direwolf was staring at him and in a different way than usual. And it had tensed some
As if readying to run at him.
"Ghost? What's gotten into you…"
Loud calls and shouts erupted from the tent then and Jon's hand went to his sword hilt. He was about charge back into the celebration when the flap suddenly flew outward and someone quickly walked by him. A moment later another followed after.
In the dim light he saw it was Sansa and Willem.
They hadn't walked out far, both having stopped and seemed to be looking across the camp.
They're looking for you, he thought, to tell you about the proposal.
Hide. Find some shadow.
He was about to do so when Ghost ran straight into him, knocking Jon hard against some barrels which rattled loudly. The wolf left him sprawled against them as it turned and took off into the night.
Traitor, he cursed, maybe they didn't hear.
"By the seven Wolf you made the queen worry!"
Willem, another traitor.
He was standing upright again when Sansa and Willem joined him. She was looking him up and down, as if inspecting him for injury. Willem was looking at him like he was an idiot.
"Willem you may rejoin the others, Jon will guard me as I have some air." Sansa said without looking away from Jon. "If he is able?"
"I am." He straightened, meeting her gaze.
Willem's eyes moved between the two of them several times, appearing very confused. He actually scratched his head before he shrugged and smiled.
"Lady Myranda did swear she had some stories to taunt Waynwood with."
And with those words and a bow to Sansa he was back within the tent, leaving them both outside.
Alone.
Alone for the first time since his apology to her for the bridge. He remembered a time when such a thing did not make him fearful.
Or nervous.
"Why did you leave?"
"I am not one for such occasions." He answered truthfully.
"It looks poorly." She spoke softly. "As if you do not welcome our guests."
Forever a lady and queen Sansa was. He had not thought of it that way but she saw the effects of his actions far beyond he did. Jon was usually better at such and felt the need to defend himself some.
"Considering I served with men of the Vale I don't think they doubt my appreciation of them. And the northmen will speak to how I'm not usually a feature at feasts." He said awkwardly. "They'll remember Winterfell."
It was the truth. Many of the highborns within had been to special occasions at Winterfell. Their visits often meant Jon would sit away from his family and his status as an outsider even more pronounced.
"I doubt they'll miss me too much."
"I missed you." Sansa said, taking a step towards him. "And many have just heard the tale of how you commanded such attention at my coronation. That was why Myranda toasted you. She said she'd never heard of anything more gallant…"
He remembered the day well.
They had danced that day, only the once but he thought of it often.
"That was for you. And it would have been hard to stay away, as happy as you were and how beautiful you looked..."
As soon as the words left his mouth Jon knew it was a truth he should have kept to himself. Sansa's mouth opened in surprise and he thought she even flushed. He prepared to apologize when as quickly as it happened something changed in Sansa's expression.
"So what has changed that you could not stay within tent tonight? Is it because this occasion is less grand? Am I less enjoyable now?" She said, her eyes wide in exasperation and she gestured at her gown as if he saw something wrong with it.
"No, Sansa…I didn't mean…you are the picture of beauty."
He had to find a way out this. She was too clever. She would learn the truth and be disgusted with him. So he decided to speak part of another truth to keep her off the trail.
"My thoughts preoccupied me." He offered. "Sending Howland away…"
"Was my decision." She said curtly. "Lord Reed has…proven himself worthy of other tasks for the time being. Not much to worry on Jon."
He decided to drop that argument, it was clearly not one she wished to discuss. When she was about to speak he blurted out the next thing that came to mind.
"The Waynwoods! I mean Ser Morton…" He felt his strength leave then, speaking this aloud drained him so. "He intends mean to propose a marriage between you and the heir."
She nodded and waited for him to continue, as if this news did not shock her. He must have looked foolish just standing there with nothing else.
"I wasn't sure if you knew. I am happy for you… I hope he can make you happy. I was just thinking of the effects and…" Jon started but she moved forward and grasped his arms tightly.
"You're good to do so but I'm going to reject the match. Myranda told me of it as soon as she arrived, she eyes the heir for herself in truth." Sansa spoke calmly. "I could not hand the reigns of the north to the heir to the Vale. My bannermen would be wroth, as accepting as they've been of me asking them to accept the authority of an outsider would be too much. If I must marry it must be to a man of the North, with the blood of the First Men."
He marveled at her words. The girl Jon had once thought a silly thing with nothing but knitting and knights on pretty ponies in her head had strategized her way out of the match already. And it had been less than half a day since the arrival of such news.
Soon enough she won't need advisors or counsel.
"I…I am not half as smart as you your grace." He said, trying to keep his good cheer hidden. "We're all better off for it."
He felt so at least, for the relief rushed through him, warming him better than any wine ever could.
This means she won't be another's. She will be here with me.
For now.
"You lack for grace not wits, and speaking of grace…I am Sansa when we are together Jon." Her hands on his arms slid down and took his hands in hers. "Always Sansa with you…"
She turned her head and began looking about the camp. Despite the celebrations throughout the camp they remained very much alone right then.
"I've been a fool." Sansa stepped closer, pulling his hands to her chest. "To push you away it was the last thing I wanted to do…I didn't mean to hurt you…I just wanted…"
"Sansa I have no idea what you're talking about." He mostly didn't at least, she had put distance between them but how that saved him hurt was beyond him.
"I'm just sorry…so sorry…"
Sansa shivered then and it was then he saw she wore no cloak against the cold. He pulled his hands from hers and she gave him a look of reproach. Jon unclasped his cloak from his shoulders and gently placed it upon hers.
When he'd finished she reached to catch one of his hands in hers. His burnt hand.
"One more thing I'd have." She said and before he could stop her she'd pulled the glove from his hand.
"No!"
"Hush. This is not an ugly thing Jon." Hers words spoken almost as softly as she cradled his hand. "It could never be ugly to me. Nothing about you could."
Now he met her eyes and they were gazing at him earnestly. Her lips were parted slightly and her cheeks rose tinged. Some strands of hair had fallen across her face and with his free hand he reached up to push them away, just slightly touching her skin. And he thought she trembled then.
She doesn't feel the same.
She can't.
He would not have a chance to find out. Loud voices interrupted them and he quickly pulled back from her body and hands. A moment later Ser Morton stormed out of the tent angrily before striding away into the night. Following shortly after came Willem and Myranda.
"My love for you so true, as sure as your eyes blue!" Willem called after him laughing and drinking of his cup.
"Tis' a fine poem ser! Worthy of song! Truly!" Myranda joined in.
"Poem?" Sansa asked looking confused.
"You didn't know? When our Ser Morton was courting his wife he wrote her some poetry." She said regarding the two of them coyly. "He did not expect her handmaidens to share it with me."
"Oh gods you told them his poetry?" Sansa laughed and put her hand to Jon's arm to steady herself.
"I have manners your grace." Myranda acted hurt. "I only told the good ser here and…"
The flaps of the tent flew outward again as the Greatjon burst out into the night, two cups in his hands.
"SHOULD YOU BE MY LADY, MY GARDEN SHALL NEVER BE SHADY!" He boomed, his laughter coming out as huge white plumes of mist.
Jon did his best to hide his own at the poor man's expense but failed miserably. The other three made no such attempts and openly laughed as Willem and the Greatjon did their best to recite more of the knight's poetry.
He realized then he was happy. For the first time in a long while he was genuinely happy.
He hadn't been for weeks now but among people such as these how could he not be? When Sansa's laughter had exhausted her he held his arm out to her and looked to the others.
"I've had enough air your grace, I'd join you and the others within." He said. "It would be good to celebrate the arrival of friends."
Sansa took his arm eagerly and, before Willem could do so, he offered the other to Myranda who grabbed it and pulled herself tightly against him.
Willem was shocked at this boldness and Jon left his friend gaping as he led the two women back into the rowdy tent.
"You could always escort me you tiny fool." The Greatjon's laughter followed after.
BRIENNE
"Another week or two would be smart dear, or at least a few more days…"
"Ten has been quite enough." Brienne winced as she pulled her shirt over her bandaged ribs. Such actions still hurt bring pain but enough for her to bear. "But I thank you anyway oldmother."
The kindly old woman gave her a weak smile yet her disappointment was obvious. She'd been demanding Brienne call her such since they'd arrived at the village and while the woman had proved capable at tending her injuries she'd resisted doing so. Giving in to that small request seemed the least Brienne could do since she had no intention of doing the other task the healer asked of her.
"You and your men…like a blessing you were. I almost had hope we wouldn't have to leave for the winter." Kenna was the old woman's true name, and her voice was full of worry as she gazed out the window of this cabin. "That we could keep out home."
Outside lay her village, a collection of small wooden buildings surrounded by a poorly made palisade. Had Anguy not found the well trodden trail leading here they would have rode right by it without every knowing it was there.
Small and unknown, the village was nestled in thick woods at the base of the Mountains of the Moon. It had made a good place for Brienne's group to seek shelter and give her time to heal.
Their arrival had only been welcomed because of the fear the villagers lived in. The mountain clans had taken to raiding more frequently in the past weeks. The savages had burned two other settlements the villagers knew of and they'd embraced Brienne and the others if only for the extra swords they carried.
"Staying was never an option for us Kenna. We have someplace to be and you could not have fed us for the entire winter."
She'd seen the state of their stores. These were a simple people, farming rocky lands and hunting game to meet their needs. Such meager earnings would never be enough to support sworn swords or even a group as small as her own. "Travelling to one of the other villages and joining your strength is your best option for fending off the raiders."
"You and my son have the right of it…I just know the wildlings. What we leave will not be here when we come back. They'll burn it just to warm themselves and to spite us."
"It's better you lose empty cabins than your lives." She said but felt her words would be of little comfort.
Gendry and the young Lord Edric had spotted the wildlings not a day ago during a ride about the edge of the villagers' small fields. It was only a small party, a few men on short, shaggy horses who disappeared back towards the mountains. Yet the danger was clear.
Payton, the village headman and Kenna's son, had thought the same as Brienne. Those men had likely been a scouting party and more could be on the way.
A knock came upon the cabin door and Brienne threw on her cloak before answering. Outside stood Pod, the lad had Oathkeeper and her sword belt in hand and his eyes on the floor, as if fearing to see her in undress.
"I traded the rest of Hyle's things for supplies. Are we leaving soon?" The squire asked as she began to buckle the belt back around her waist.
Her arm was still not well enough to wield the blade but the splint was long gone now so others need not know that.
"Good lad, and we are." She did not meet Kenna's gaze as she said so, instead nodding to the woman before guiding Pod to follow. The village was barely ten cabins and a few other buildings, most abandoned, yet seemed to be bustling today as the villagers prepared to take their leave as well.
"The horses are ready?"
"Yes my lady, Arya's already on hers. So are Anguy and Lord Edric."
"I believe he prefers to be called Ned." She herself felt uncomfortable referring to the Lord of Starfall in such a familiar way yet it was a fair trade for him to stop calling her Lady Brienne. "And of Gendry?"
"He knows…I mean I told him…" Pod was plainly uncomfortable elaborating and she could understand why. The two young men had begun to form a bond of friendship during their travels. Yet Gendry's recent behavior had put it to the test.
If she'd thought the appearance of two of Gendry's former comrades in the Brotherhood would please the outlaw knight she'd been wrong. Ever since their arrival his temper had been short and his manner withdrawn towards everyone else. It stood in stark contrast to how the rest had taken to the new arrivals and what they'd have to tell them.
Their faction of the Brotherhood had been south of the Trident when, according to Anguy, a septon they'd done good deeds by had shared some interesting information with them. Word had come from King's Landing, from the new High Septon himself, that Brienne had pillaged Quiet Isle and made off with a highborn lady under the protection of the Faith. The septs of the nearest lands had been told to take notice of any matching her or, more importantly, Arya's descriptions.
Anguy and Ned had recognized, or hoped at least, that lady to be Arya. They also learned of a force of men sent out from Harrenhal to seek Brienne and the others out.
"When the lord here decided he'd be going after the lady no matter what I figured he needed the best man of us at his side." Anguy had smiled to tell the tale while young Ned had blushed. "Merritt took the rest along the quickest route from Harrenhal. First they dressed up Swampy Meg like a warrior woman and had her brag of Tarth while keeping small Melly in a cloak the whole time making a big spectacle of themselves. Might as well of hung a sign on their horses saying follow us."
Hearing someone had been leading their pursuers about the Riverlands had answered many questions for Brienne. Namely how she'd been permitted so much time to rest while camped at the ringfort.
"When we chanced the Inn at the Crossroads we found Willow angry and full of talk. She hadn't taken kindly to what Lem claimed to have planned for you Gendry." Ned had said and it was Gendry's turn to look awkward. "Or that he left so soon after an attack against the inn. She couldn't tell us much but said she'd had word from a fisherman come off the river. He said someone was using an old ringfort along the Kingsroad. He saw your fires I guess."
After that they'd asked other old folks of the lands and learned of a marker for an old ringfort. It was distressing to think how easily Lem or others could have just as easily learned their hiding place.
Brienne thanked the seven it had been these two to find them.
If they'd done half what they claimed to have done in their quest to help Arya they were allies to be sure. With how poorly her group was faring Brienne could not in good sense turn down their help. Especially since the two claimed months of travelling through the very Frey lands they needed to pass through in their journey.
Arya had been happy enough with her decision.
Gendry had not been.
"Do you trust these men?" She'd asked him during their travels through the forests east of the Kingsroad. "Will they do what's best for Arya?"
Gendry had not answered right away, instead glancing behind at the conversation between the Ned and Arya. The frown upon his face had made her fear another reason for his poor welcome to the newcomers.
"As long as getting her through the Frey lands and to the Neck is what's best for Arya I trust them. They will do her no harm. If they keep their mouths shut that is."
She hadn't understood that and Gendry wouldn't speak further on it.
As Pod and she neared the entrance of the village they found the Ned and Arya already a horse.
They were talking and the girl was almost smiling.
No harm in that, she thought, never harm in that child having a reason to smile.
She should do it more often, her mother would want that.
When Pod helped Brienne upon her own horse she hissed in pain. Yet it was still an improvement over what it had been. She'd spent the last ten days at rest or walking about the village willing herself to heal.
Now it is time to put it to the test.
She kicked at her horse and it jumped forward, the jolt sending shots of pain through her chest. It had been more than she hoped but she could tolerate it. Considering the route she'd spoken to Anguy of they'd have no reason to ride too hard.
"It's good to be riding again m'lady. Better to see you well enough for it." The archer smiled as she rode up beside him. "And today's fine weather to begin again, especially the way Payton and his folk will be going."
"I wish them the best but it is our travels I'm concerned about. Are you sure it's not wiser to stick to the woods?"
"The Kingsroad is the best for a good while, for how quickly you'd like to travel and what word we could get from any coming south. The Freys patrolled the part near the Twins some but any travelers we'd meet on the way could let us know if that's changed." Anguy pointed to a small purse tied to his belt, he'd bragged of how they'd use Frey gold to outwit the weasels themselves. "That's when we'd hit the woods again and our travels would get trickier."
She thought it sounded as good as it had days ago when the outlaw had first proposed returning to the road. The horses could move much faster upon it and the ride would be much gentler upon her. Anguy was seemed confident whatever pursuit they'd once feared would have long ago been abandoned.
"There's our knight of smiles!" Anguy called out and she saw Gendry coming from the direction of the village storehouse. "Still trying to find a smithy to get me those arrowheads you owe me?"
The young man didn't respond and if he thought Anguy's jest funny he did well at hiding it. He went straight to his horse, checking the saddle straps and what had been packed upon it before pulling himself upon it. Gendry gave Pod a quick nod then and thanked him quietly for seeing to his horse.
Arya began ride her own alongside Gendry who quickly responded by riding toward Anguy and herself.
"I'm sorry m'lady, I was helping Payton and his boys load up the last of their oxen. A lot of work for some so old and young…"
"It's no bother and kind of you to do." She said, wishing she could do more for their hosts. None appeared to bid them farewell and it was understandable. It had become almost a routine for her to depart a place of welcome under a pall.
"Pod, see to the gate, I'd not prolong this any longer."
Anguy led the way as they'd arranged, his eyes were sharp and he knew the way back to the Kingsroad. Pod and Ned would ride to their rear while Brienne and Gendry would keep Arya with them in the center. As useless as her sword hand was she hoped the size of Gendry and herself would discourage any attacks near Arya.
She expected some awkwardness between Arya and Gendry at the start of the ride and had assumed it would drift away. It was soon clear that had been a foolish hope. The only talking the either of them did was to her and the childishness of it became more tiring than the ride itself.
"Brienne can you ask Gendry for the water since he's too good to talk to me."
"M'lady should tell Lady Stark she should not have to drink from the skin of a commoner."
"Brienne ask Gendry what water I should drink then?"
"M'lady might want to suggest the young lord's water skin, surely it's good enough for her."
"Ask Gendry what it's like to have shit for brains!"
"Enough!" Brienne reached up to touch her head. "Pray enough…"
It hadn't been of course. For the better part of an hour petty bickering like that continued so much so that the two youths bothered her more than her ribs.
If you confront them it'll become worse, she thought, they've both too stubborn to see reason.
The only time they're not fighting is when they're fighting someone else.
It was trying to think of other matters, like having Pod scour her armor, that gave her the idea.
"There's a matter I'd speak of, between only us three." Brienne said suddenly with as conspiratorial a tone as she could muster. "And I'd have it stay quiet."
When she had both their attention her mummery began.
"Even if the Freys do not watch the road there are other things to fear in these lawless times. Wildlings, bandits, broken men, the list is almost endless and I fear how little warning we could have if any await us."
"Anguy doesn't miss much Brienne." Arya spoke before Gendry could. "That's why he's riding ahead isn't it? For warning?"
"Barely a warning." Gendry muttered. "If we can see him then any in hiding who spot him can see us too."
"I knew that! I was just saying he'd see them first!"
"You both might be right." She interrupted the bickering. "It's not something I'm eager to chance. I'm thinking of having someone ride much further ahead, to draw any attention or attack long before we could be set upon."
"Like bait?" Arya asked.
"I could do so m'lady." Gendry volunteered.
"No you can't!" Arya protested. "You'd be…"
"It would be Podrick if it was anyone." She said firmly. "Gendry we need your strength if it comes to battle. As we'd need Anguy's bow and Ned's knowledge of the Freys. No it would it be Podrick, he's the only one we could spare."
"We can't spare him!" Arya said angrily and Gendry looked just as upset.
"I don't mean disrespect m'lady but Pod's shown his worth. Enough squires came by Mott's forge for me to tell the good ones from the shit ones. Pod's a true one, he charged the Bloody Mummers with a meat knife of all things. A boy as foolish and brave as that…if any attacked he'd rather fall than flee…"
"Gendry's right." Arya's words made Gendry's eyes widen in surprise. "He's too good to be bait. Anybody who wouldn't attack our group would go after a skinny sot like Pod in a moment!"
She didn't care for Arya's description of Podrick but the pair's defense of the squire was touching. Even better it was uniting the two squabbling friends against her. Brienne surrendered the issue not long after but it had spawned other discussions she was able to guide the two into agreeing on. Like whether Arya should continue to train with Needle or move to a normal blade, Gendry taking Arya's side in favor of the fine blade her brother had gifted her.
They reached the road by dusk and made camp far enough from it to keep their fires well hidden. When Pod volunteered to keep watch on the road both Gendry and Arya had scolded him harshly, leaving the poor lad confused on how he'd earned their ire.
The villagers had added to their travel supplies greatly and young Ned showed himself quite adept at fireside cooking. They ate some roast pig with grease dripping from their fingers and chins.
"Any of you spot a boar let me know. We'll eat like kings." Anguy said licking at his fingers.
"We'll be watching for wildings or Freys, not game." Gendry said sourly.
"I think he means if we happen to see…"
"I know what he meant, begging m'lord's pardon." Gendry cut off Ned, glaring at him fiercely. "Still doesn't mean he's not cocky enough to need reminding."
Ned could have taken offense to that yet simply nodded and smirked at Anguy.
"You are too cocky."
As Anguy took to arguing in his own defense Brienne rose to join Arya at the far end of the fire. The girl was laying a whetstone against her blade, eyes some where else.
"It is good you take such care of your blade." Brienne sat next to her, offering the girl some water. "When I was a child I never did so."
"I'm not a child." Arya protested.
"You are, even if sometimes you don't act it, you are still a child." Brienne spoke quietly. "No matter what you did to Hyle. You remain a child Arya."
They hadn't spoken about what Arya done to Hyle. It was Brienne's shame which had stopped her from doing so before.
That grim task fell to her because of your weakness.
The traitor's blood should've been on your blade, not her hands.
"I don't feel bad about it." Arya said simply, avoiding her gaze. "I had to."
"He betrayed us. Maybe he would've even have betrayed you. I can't speak to what was in his heart." She spoke softly, wishing the girl to understand what she was about to say was not meant with malice.
"But you did not have to kill him, we both know this."
Arya whipped about to face her, the girl's face twisted into one of hurt. Possibly of betrayal.
"I had to. I did for his leg and with all those arrows…even if he lived we couldn't tie him up and drag him around with us…" She waved about at the country they rode through. "Can you imagine tying him up on a horse in this?"
"I'm not talking about whether you made the right decision. I believe you did." Brienne sighed. "Had Anguy not arrived Hyle would surely have killed Gendry. Perhaps even me. His death was by his own doing."
"I knew you understood! If I didn't fight him he could've hurt all of you! I didn't…"
"You could have let him take you." She offered. "You could've given in, let him take you, find some septon to marry you and had a knight for a husband and protector. You wouldn't have had to spill his blood, he would've lived and you might be better off than you are now."
"Better off? I'd be his prisoner! I told you, I won't be a prisoner again! I told him if he hurt you'd I'd kill him and I'd do it again!"
Brienne wasn't surprised or upset by her outburst, only sad. She raised her hand towards Arya's shoulder but stopped just short of touching her, letting her arm fall again.
"I believe you did the right thing…and I would have killed Hyle myself if I had been able. It's my shame to carry that I couldn't protect you. Killing Hyle would not trouble me nearly as much as the shame I feel now. But I am a woman grown and a warrior beyond that, I do not know how I would feel as a girl of one and ten."
"I feel fine." Arya said again but Brienne felt her shoulders slump some.
"It is no easy thing to kill no matter how many times you do it." Brienne reached to lift Arya's chin so the girl's glistening grey eyes looked into her own. "But if you must act strong to deal with such I will allow you that. It is an easy enough thing for me to believe of you Arya Stark. Just know it is normal for it to bother you…"
Brienne was cut off then by the cries of the horses.
They began to rear and show unease, stamping their hoofs and pulling upon their lines. She'd barely had time to stand when Anguy darted to the fireside, bow in hand and an arrow at the ready. His eyes darting about about into the night beyond.
"What's wrong?"
"Quiet." Anguy's joking tone was gone as Brienne and the others all drew their swords.
The rest joined the archer in peering about them, Brienne herself saw nothing save the darkened trees surrounding the camp. Then a twig snapped somewhere in the night. Then another from the opposite direction came a moment later and Anguy cursed.
Someone's encircled us.
Her first thought was the clans had found them, the growing number of sounds all around the camp made her picture a horde of wildlings closing in. Yet all she made out in the weak light were dark shapes moving quickly here and there.
"Arya behind me." She pulled the girl between her and the fire, hoping to shield her should arrows come into play.
Almost as if on cue Anguy spun suddenly to his right and loosed an arrow into the abyss. A sharp yelp rang out followed by high pitch whining and a flurry of movement. Loud growls and glowing eyes appeared all about them then and their foe was revealed.
Wolves.
Fear gripped her then. There would have to be a large number of the beasts circling them to be making the amount of noise they did.
And to be so bold.
"We need wood." Anguy hissed as he notched another arrow. "The fire needs to be bigger."
"Pod! Ned!" She called and the two squires rushed to the wood pile they'd gathered and began throwing sticks and logs into the fire with little abandon. A shadow burst from the darkness towards them and the twang of Anguy's bow answered the wolf's attack.
The beast fell and lay to rest with its snout almost at Ned's boot.
"Brienne…"
"No Arya, stay where you are. Let them come to us." She tried to sound confident despite how unsure she was of how to handle this. "Gendry to me."
The horses were in a full on panic and she thought it likely they'd lose some unless they did something quickly. As Gendry ranto join her in sheltering Arya she took a chance. She reached down and plucked a burning log from the fire and tossed it high to land just beyond the horses, a wolf briefly outlined as it landed before disappearing again.
She did it again to the other side of their mounts but knew it only delayed the inevitable. They'd nowhere near enough wood to ring the beasts and themselves to keep at the wolves at bay.
And we are lost without mounts.
"Again, do it that again." Anguy yelled at her. "Further out, give me something to shoot at."
She did as he asked and as the fiery log flew through the air Anguy loosed at a wolf she'd thought a hedge. He missed but came near enough she thought it their best chance.
"Brienne! Let me..."
"Quiet Arya!" She couldn't deal with the girl and try and follow the beasts the same time.
Another toss sent a log rolling across the ground before coming to an abrupt stop. No wolves ran away this time, instead something much more unnerving happened. Out of the darkness, as if emboldened by their attempts to kill it, stepped a monstrously big wolf.
The beast stood before the flaming log, its golden eyes flashing in the light and staring at them, defiantly.
"Seven save us." She prayed.
The wolf was of a kind with Jon Snow's and while his had a coat of white this one had one of grey. Anguy had just loosed an arrow at another wolf when he caught sight of this beast. He swore as he turned towards it, reaching for another arrow and notching it quickly.
"No!" Arya yelled, running forward and throwing her shoulder into Anguy's side.
They both pitched forward and landed upon the ground as the arrow flew up into the branches above them. Arya rolled further than Anguy and the reaction from the wolves was immediate. Two of them came running at the exposed girl, their fangs bared and ready for to kill.
"No!" Brienne cried out and ran to protect the girl before being jostled out the way by another.
Gendry charged forth, swinging his sword in a wide arc. The closest wolf dodged his attack but lunged upwards at the knight, knocking him onto his back and trying to tear out his throat. She could've turned to help him but her path took her to Arya, her heart racing as a wolf closed on the girl much quicker than she.
But not as quick as the monster from the shadows.
Or a savior as she would later view it.
The huge wolf slammed into Arya's attacker, biting and clawing at the smaller wolf, drawing it away from Arya as Brienne reached her side.
The other wolves were all attacking now as well, possibly sensing weakness. It was chaos after that. Arya attacked with Needle, skewering the one atop Gendry as Anguy, having notched again from only a kneeling position, took another down through the neck.
Pod and Ned charged forth, both with swords and flaming sticks in each hand, each shouting war cries.
"Starfall!"
"The Lady!"
The two youths drove a number of wolves back as Anguy picked them off. Even hobbled as she was she managed to unsheathe Oathkeeper and, wielding it with two hands, fended off a wolf from attacking Gendry's exposed back.
Gendry, Arya and herself fought back to back as the wolves darted in and out from amongst the burning branches.
It was like no other fight Brienne had ever been in. A flurry of teeth, flame and flashing swords.
She watched in awe as the giant wolf attacked another of its small brethren which came too close to Arya. Mauling it so viciously the poor animal's head was almost torn from its body.
By the time the wolves retreated back into the night seven lay dead and most of the group bled or nursed scratches.
"Arya move!" Anguy cried as he tried to take aim at the sole remaining wolf.
The giant hadn't left with the others, instead it paced before Arya, its eyes locked on the girl.
Nor did Arya do as Anguy asked. Rather than helping the girl lowered her blade and held out her hand to the beast, her palm up and open.
"Don't Anguy…I know her…" Arya spoke softly as she took a step towards the wolf, which covered in blood as it was, made Brienne's heart stop.
"Arya come away from it." She took a step towards her but the wolf dropped low and snarled as she did so.
"No, Brienne I know her…she knows me…" Arya let Needle fall from her grasp and clatter upon the ground. "She won't hurt me..."
When she knelt before the beasted Pod and Anguy to gasp. In such a position Arya was forced to look up into the eyes of the wolf which had stopped pacing. It stood looking down at Arya and soon began sniffing at her, its mouth hanging open and those large fangs making Brienne grip Oathkeeper even tighter.
"You remembered me?" Arya's voice waivered then, her arms reaching out to the wolf. "I remembered you…I'm sorry I left you. I had to or they would've killed you…"
The wolf growled and every one of them jerked forward some, each member of the party standing ready to defend Arya should the beast do as they feared. Arya held her hands up, waving them back while never taking her eyes from the wolf.
How did she know we neared then?
"Nymeria…Nymeria please…they won't hurt us…" Arya reached forward again, as if beckoning the beast to her. "We're all that's left...it's us now…that's why you came isn't it?"
Nymeria, she remembered something Lady Catelyn had said, that was the name of Arya's direwolf.
"Let's go home." Arya almost whispered. "Let's go home."
The wolf Arya named as Nymeria shot the men a look Brienne didn't care for. The beast appeared much too wild and threatening for her taste. Yet when its eyes found Arya again Brienne swore they softened some, the direwolf lowering its head to sniff at the girl's open hands cautiously.
A moment later it began licking at one vigorously. Then the wolf moved to do the same to Arya's face and while the others became uneasy again Brienne didn't.
When Arya's arms wrapped around the neck of the direwolf she knew what she'd seen. The direwolf had been calmed by Arya's words, maybe even convinced by them. The men stood in shock while Arya hugged Nymeria tightly to her but Brienne was shocked by something else entirely.
For Nymeria's gaze had fallen upon her now. The fire flickering in the wolf's eyes as it looked upon her.
Staring in a way Brienne had seen before.
Quiet Isle, she remembered, Arya's eyes when I took her from the fire.
She knows me.
******A_Cold_Wind_Blows betas this work and he's awesome. I usually post snippets or previews on Tumblr. DolorousEdditor is the name so let me have it.******