SANSA
Sansa took the small kettle away from the fire and slowly poured the tea into a small cup. Putting the kettle away, she grabbed the cup, glad for the warmth in her gloved hands as she paced towards the map still sitting over the table.
Her bright blue eyes raced over the pieces of wood marked with direwolves and flayed men placed on the field. As of a week ago a small twin tower was placed there as well, and she couldn't help but shiver in wondering of the coming day. The fight would be vicious, she knew, if only from the look on Ramsay's eyes during the parlay earlier.
She had brought along only a few small lords and clansmen, joined by Tormund and Dim Dalba representing the wildlings, a small haggard party crowned by a single direwolf banner meant to deceive not intimidate. Jon's whole strategy after all depended on forcing Ramsay out of Winterfell, and that meant hiding their best and most surprising allies, including the men in wraps that had arrived one faithful snowy morning. In fact the most important houses in their part had been Glover and Mormont, while on the other side of the field she glimpsed the Umber giant and the Karstark sunburst flapping on the wind beside the Twin Towers and the Flayed Man.
No one spoke at first, but she felt encouraged when Jon took his mount to stay behind her line, making it clear she was the one in charge. She could've smiled at the thought, for one who claimed to know nothing of politics, Jon had quiet the eye for it. Ramsay, of course, spoke first, his smirk pursing in wormy sick lips, pale eyes empty of anything that wasn't amusement. Staring at the way Smalljon Umber was glaring at the Frey representative, she had to wonder if he was blind.
"My beloved wife" He called out. "Your return is a welcome sight for sore eyes, indeed I'm humbled that such good lords have gone thorough the trouble of bringing you in. Why don't you come inside, our quarters are warm and your husband is hungry for your company."
She did not need to disguise the shiver that run through her skin. "I have not returned to you my lord, I returned to claim what belongs to me by right."
"By right you belong to me"
She frowned, watching his mocking eyes, behind her Jon took a breath. "Are we to understand you wish to give battle?"
"Battle? Well maybe, what do you think?" Ramsay questioned the men behind him, but didn't wait for an answer, turning to pierce Jon with a delighted stare. "Well, if that should happen, that would make it easier for me, since you're all traitors to your rightful lord, are you not? You yourself are a deserter of the Night's Watch, maybe if you surrender and give me back my wife I would offer you a quick death."
"How about a fight then?" Jon voice claimed stronger than before. "Thousands of men don't need to die, only one of us. Let's have single combat and let the gods decide."
"Oh, that would be very convenient, the bastard leads a small army of savages and thinks he can fight a high lord..."
"Am I to understand you refuse?" Sansa said cutting him out, and she saw the dangerous glint of annoyance crossing his eyes.
"Refuse? I'm merely meant to be merciful… Sansa..."
"Theon did say you were a coward." She said the words with such a calm voice Ramsay, for a moment, didn't seem to understand. Enjoying the advantage a little too much she kept talking. "Ramsay Snow, If you refuse to negotiate the terms of your surrender and to fight in single combat, then as Lady of Winterfell, I would here bye sentence you to death, for the crimes committed against the North and your liege."
"Crimes?" This was the Frey, a weasel face moving ahead of the party. "There was no crime, Lord Bolton saved my father's life from you northern monsters, Robb Stark's savagery broke the hospitality of my house."
It was as if a sudden rush of cold wind blew out the fires around them, in that moment Sansa thought Smalljon might actually kill the Frey right then and there, even Arnolf Karstark who had been throwing her nasty looks seemed uncomfortable. Behind her, her own bannermen seemed about to loose it, until she spoke again.
"It's funny you should mention Lord Bolton, since I don't see him close."
"My father, unfortunately, fell..."
"On your knife?" Her words were shrill, and Sansa had to allow a tiny smirk at the way his eyes gleamed. This was dangerous, foolish even. If the battle turned against them, he would surely plan something evil to torture her, but Sansa was committed. It's not like I shall allow him to take me alive. "Tomorrow at dawn you will leave Winterfell and kneel before my army, you will consent to the annulment of our marriage and present yourself for trial. Otherwise your life shall be forfeit immediately. Sleep Well."
She nodded back at her party, and turned her mount around, riding back to the woods. She was already close to the tree line when she realized Jon had stayed behind for a moment. Obviously Ramsay had taken him to pour out his anger, and bye the look on her half-brother's eyes it was not pleasant, but then again nothing about having their lives in the balance was pleasant.
In a way she understood the temptation of calling it a game, making the whole picture seem more harmless than it actually, but even when the word touched her lips she wouldn't allow herself to misunderstand the consequences. She knew them well, in her body and soul, and she played it with that threat like a blanket around her shoulders.
Of course, if her success had been definitive, Sansa would know only by morning. She stared back at the table and sipped from the tea, it tasted sour and sharp and it worked to wake her up. Slowly the lords trickled inside, one by one. Tormund and Dim Dalba for the Wildlings, Lady Mormont, Lord Glover, Big Bucket Wull and finally, the lasted addition to their army, a man wearing red, recently shaved and long haired.
Ser Kyle Condon offered her a small bowl. "Your Grace"
"Ser Kyle"
She did her best to remain stoic, the title was not one she had wanted, neither it was something she thought about. In fact no one else seemed to refer to her as such, but when the knight had emerged from the snows, bringing news of survivors from Robb's army sneaking around Moat Callin through the swamps, he had fallen to a knee and reminded everyone her brother had been a king.
A deed worthy of being retold one day, although her gladness had been much more present by the news of reiforcements.
Two thousand men, Ser Kyle assured her… Two thousand stark men to even the odds.
After realizing that winter and supplies wouldn't allow them to wait for word from Lord Manderly or Riverrun, it was more of a miracle that they would dare to hope.
Finally Jon arrived, and the chatter quieted down, for although Ser Kyle might call her queen, it was clear whom the Lords favored as a leader, the man who had been discussing their coming battle in endless meetings, walking and training men by day and had always a word of acknowledgment to give them. She only needed to watch his eyes and the resentment she felt budding inside was quickly quenched. If they survived long enough, Jon would deserve everything and more.
"My Lords" he spoke marching to the head of the table, where he pulled a chair for her. Sansa suppressed a sight, and accepted, exchanging a weary glance that clearly amused him as he remained on his feet, looking over the map. "If you allow me, I would talk plans for tomorrow."
And so he did.
Lines were drawn, shields and spears were lined with tree lines, archers were placed in blocks and hidden in the Wolfswood, scouts would be sent out, their small cavalry was split and distributed, and signals were agreed upon in the quiet black tent. In a briefing without beer or fat meals, with soft questions and strong resolve, the solemnity of it all almost made Sansa think herself in a song, a brave song of outnumbered heroes fighting a strong foe.
"The plan is good, but we still need him out of Winterfell, and you have to pardon me Lord Snow, but I don't see how that will happen."
"You went to the parlay my lord" Jon said, looking over Robett Glover, with news of his brother being alive, he was once again a castelan, but Jon and Sansa both kept the title alive. "You saw how Ramsay behaved."
"Ramsay Snow is not Lord Bolton" Ser Kyle agreed.
"True, but he is also not a fool, we could starve before he does." Brandon Norrey pointed out. "He already tried to burn our supplies."
"And we stopped him" Jon said referring to the attack they suffered in the night. After Stannis' fall, Jon had taken no chances with the security around their camp, digging trenches, putting torches and doubling the guard. The corpses of Ramsay's men were still out there to be spit upon by their army, a sight their lords said was necessary but that Sansa tried to avoid anyway. "He attacked Stannis in the open when he thought him weak, and we did everything to make him believe that, our scouts kept him blind and at the parlay he only saw what we wanted him to see."
"He is also sheltering a great many men inside Winterfell, an army that big won't last long in close quarters, even less with Freys close by." Ser Kyle said agreeing.
"That would still mean holding a cavalry charge head on." Lord Glover said.
"Aye, we can take it" Tormund laughed. "Who would've thought all you southerners worried about us"
"We are part of the same army" Lady Mormont explained, her pale completion settled by her furrowed brow. Sansa had heard the young girl's mother was alive with the survivors, but her demeanor hadn't changed one bit with the news. "But I don't think they have a point, Ramsay might not take the bait to go after Lord Snow."
"He seemed angry enough earlier" Dim Dalba pointed out.
"Angry is one thing, the decision to attack an army to kill a bastard is another" Lord Glover told him looking apologetically. "Besides, Arnolf and Smalljon are no fools, Bolton needs them and they might persuade him to wait."
Sansa watched Jon falling silent and knew it was her time. She rose from her seat and spoke the fact she had known ever since Jon first voiced his ideas. "Ramsay won't come just for Jon, he will come for me as well."
Silence, the lords looked from one to the other, exchanging glances and nods, she could see clearly that some of them didn't agree, Lord Glover pursed his lips first. "My Lady, the danger..."
"Your Grace, if you offer yourself like that..."
"I won't be offering myself Ser Kyle, I'll be well protected I'm sure" She looked around the table. "You said so yourselves, Ramsay must be goaded to leave Winterfell, there is no better way than to have his wife and her half-brother parading outside his walls with a small and, seeming, unprepared army. I'll be in no more danger than the rest of you."
"Sansa..."
"Jon?" She locked eyes with him, wondering if he would say his mind now, before the lords. She prayed that he saw strength in her, the same strength she admired in his own eyes, and maybe he did, because he suddenly nodded in agreement.
"Lady Stark has a point, she did do everything in her power to anger Ramsay in the Parlay." Gray eyes fell upon her. "You'll have a guard placed around you."
"One just like yours" She saw him flinch and hid away her smile as she glanced over the lords. "You're our battle commander, I'm sure everyone here agrees you must be protected."
A chorus of agreement was followed by yet another discussion.
The lords suggested a thirty men guard, Jon argued them down to twenty, then tried to place forty around her. Sansa just smirked as she pointed out she would be in far less danger than himself and he would need the best men in the battle itself. Finally she had her own twenty men guard and the discussion ceased, the tent growing more and more empty until she was finally alone with Jon.
Her tea had grown cold by the table, the night's wind was now blowing against the tent and Ghost appeared, his muzzle red from blood and appearing happy like anyone would with a full belly. Sansa shook her head, and draped a cloth in the water, cleaning him the best she could when he leaned close to her lap.
"You waited until now so I couldn't say no." He pointed out, more an observation than anything else.
"Had I told you I planned on being there in private, you would argue, and I didn't want that."
"Instead you waited until the council." He said with a sigh, his hand opening and closing on his side. "Had I said anything we would risk being seeing as disagreeing with each other and our leadership would be called into question."
She looked over expecting to see some anger she knew men were prone to, but weirdly Jon was actually smiling, resigned and sorrowful, but smiling nonetheless. "You know is a good plan."
"I know, it doesn't mean I like it." He said looking at the white beast at her side. "You keep him with you"
She stopped, and slowly brushed the cloth around Ghost's fur, the white finally appearing again while he stood silently under her care.
"He would be better suited to the battlefield."
"A battle is no place for a Direwolf."
"Robb had Grey Wind by his side on every battle."
"Sansa" Jon had always seem calm to her, so the way he impatiently barked her name was enough to show his feelings on the matter. His eyes pierced her with cold fire, and Sansa sighed.
"Very well"
"I just want you to be safe"
"Can't I want the same for you?" She rose to her feet. It had been a while since they had been this close, the more they closed on Winterfell, the more they were separated by their duties, certainly there had been no bed sharing as their army grew. It was improper.
"I…"
"If you say you're not as important as the Lady of Winterfell, I swear I'm gonna order you be placed by my side on the battlefield." She threatened.
He blinked. "You wouldn't."
"Are you sure about that?" She said finishing with Ghost, the Direwolf yawned and padded to the bed where he laid down and watched them. It was always amusing to her to see the wolf acting like he owned the place. Maybe he did. Maybe all wolves act like that, and that is why she was so eager to take back her home and her pack. The thought was comforting in a way. Jon's chuckled took her away from her thoughts.
"You're the Queen."
"Only in Ser Kyle's eyes" She pointed out.
"Ser Kyle's and two thousand men and they are right."
"Are they?"
"Aye."
"Jon"
"If you survive, you're still the Queen in the North, as long as you live the fight lives."
"And if I can't escape?" She dared ask, seeing him flinch. "I won't go back there alive Jon."
His face twisted into a grimace, it almost reminded her of Father, but Eddard Stark had a much better control of how he showed his emotions. As much as she believed once that Jon was cold and stoic the truth was far from it, she could see now that she knew the signs, the small movement of his eyes when he was shy, the contained smiles, the suppressed anger and the twitch of his burned hand it was all there. She wondered when he became so clear to her.
"I'll protect you" He whispered, decided, like an oath from a knight.
Sansa could only shake her head stepping so close she could feel his warmth seeping from his clothes, their breaths almost mingled together and for a insane moment Sansa wondered how it would feel to close the space between their lips. It would be only natural after all, a siblings kiss. Robb had kissed her lips before, and she had seen her parents kissing other people like that in shows of affection. Surely Jon was worthy that. It would be a simple touch, and it felt enough to quench the quivering of heat coiling inside her core. Instead she leaned forward, letting their foreheads touch.
"I don't want to be alone anymore Jon"
She felt his own body trembling when he held her. "I won't let you"
Her eyes were closed, but she could still hear the way his voice cracked, but instead of calling him out on the lie, she pulled him to bed. Jon didn't protest and she was glad, because at least this night he needed his sleep and maybe she could keep his nightmares away like he did for her. It didn't always work, of course. She would wake up all the same and so would Jon and they would hold each other and assure everything was fine. But that was another lie.
Because no one could promise anything, not Father, not Mother, not her and not Jon. None of them could make promises like that and keep them.
The world was not made of beautiful promises.
ping from his clothes, their breaths almost mingled together and for a insane moment Sansa wondered how it would feel to close the space between their lips. It would be a simple touch, and it felt enough to quench the quivering of heat coiling inside her core. Instead she leaned forward, letting their foreheads touch. "I don't want to be alone anymore Jon"
She felt his own body trembling when he held her. "I won't let you"
Her eyes were closed, but she could still hear the way his voice cracked under the lie. Because it was a lie, he couldn't make any promises, no one could promise anything, not Father, not Mother, not her and not Jon. None of them could make promises like that and keep them.
The world was not made of beautiful promises.