A/N: This chapter is dedicated to new follower mg333. Hope you continue to enjoy.

-C

Sansa rubbed her hands together. Sometimes, when she was alone, she allowed herself to feel the cold and recognize that it was not comfortable. Cold had never bothered her father that she had seen, and sometimes when it was very warm in a room he would open a window because he felt that it was uncomfortably hot. Sansa did not feel a desire to expose herself to the cold more than necessary, but she knew that if she was seen to shiver she would lose confidence of many of her subjects.

As soon as she heard footsteps she pulled her hands apart, looking out the window in what she hoped was a serene pose.

"Lady Stark," Lord Manderly said, bowing low. "I hope I am not interrupting."

"No, I was merely admiring the view," Sansa lied. "Was there something you required?"

"There is some…restlessness. Some wonder why we are still here rather than marching for Winterfell."

Sansa blinked at him. She was waiting for word on whether or not they could count on Stannis to send troops before doing anything. She had carefully not told anyone who did not already know her plans. It wouldn't be prudent to allow them to be thwarted because someone had loose lips, or other ideas.

"We will be leaving when it is time to leave," she said. "Was there anything else?"

"You received a very…well-laden raven," he said, pulling a small packet of letters from his pocket. "From the Wall."

She took a breath to keep herself from appearing too excited. If the news did not contain what she hoped she could always pass it off as a letter from Jon saying the Wall could not take sides in the politics of Westeros.

The first letter was, in fact, from Jon, and it said much as she expected it to say.

Lady Stark,

It feels strange to write that to you. It is good to know that you are well, especially considering the news we receive here at the Wall. It seems nothing good has befallen the rest of our family.

Please believe that I wish that I could help you to reclaim Winterfell for its rightful ownership. Even if I had no vows to stay out of politics, however, I do not have the men to spare. We are already well short of the numbers we need for the demons we face. We do face demons. When you are in Winterfell I will explain further, and perhaps you will be in a position to help me someday.

Until that day I do pray frequently to the Old Gods for your success. May they guide you in the choices and difficulties that lay ahead.

-Jon Snow

This was a better response than she had anticipated, even if it did not mean troops. She had never really expected him to spare any men for her, but it was good to know that she had his prayers, at the very least. To know this was like having a little piece of her family back.

Sansa set aside the letter and picked up the second one, this one from Stannis Baratheon himself.

Lady Stark,

I am pleased to learn that one of Eddard Stark's children has survived the chaos your family has been plunged into. For all our differences, your father was a good and honest man. I was surprised to learn that you have married, and to the Hound as well, but I wish you every happiness with your choice.

The fact remains that we have both been wronged by the treachery of the Lannisters, and the madness that is this war covering Westeros has to end. There are concerns here at the Wall more pressing that requires the attention of our people, considerations that could destroy everything we have built.

In response to your need, I believe it is time for another Baratheon and another Stark to come together and fight against an unjust and mad rule, and the first step forward, as I have suspected for some time, is securing the North for the Starks once more. I will send forward as many men as I can spare to meet with your forces at Sheepshead Hills. I send with them my spiritual advisor in the hope that she will be of some use to you as she has been for me. She acts as my voice, as I cannot leave the Wall at this moment. My presence is needed, with the remainder of my troops, to aid your brother, Jon Snow. I hope to pay you a visit in the halls of Winterfell as soon as possible.

The night is dark and full of terrors, but I pray that R'hllor will light your way.

-Stannis Baratheon

Sansa's lisp twitched, unable to decide between a smile and a frown. The hold of this Red God was strong over him, but the plan was moving forward as she had hoped, with Stannis staying behind, giving Obara and Tyene access to the priestess without Stannis around to stop them.

"Lord Manderly," Sansa said, setting down the letter from Stannis, "you may tell the others that we will be making for Sheepshead Hills in…three days. Do you believe this is sufficient time to make preparations?"

"Certainly, Lady Stark," he said, a bit bewildered. "Good news in the letter?"

"Yes," she said, smiling at last. "Yes, very good news. You will see to preparations, I trust?"

"Right away," he said, taking leave of her. She momentarily regretted that she did not ask him to send in Sandor, but she would give him the news later. There was still much to plan, and one more letter to read. Sansa opened it with hands trembling with excitement.

Lady Stark,

We have had great success here at Castle Black, and Jon Snow is very supportive of your campaign to take back Winterfell. His note is enclosed. He cannot send troops, but I believe that if it were possible he would be strongly tempted to do so.

Stannis his highly favorable to your claim. I believe he was trying to coax Jon Snow into taking Winterfell and holding it for him, but as tempting as that might have been for many men, the temptation for power does not seem to touch Jon Snow. He is truly honorable.

The number of men being sent is nebulous at this point, but it will be a considerable number. Stannis is making plans to take back Deepwood Motte as well, at the suggestion of Jon. The plan seems sound. I will give you more details as I find them.

Another note: Arnolf Karstark is not to be trusted. He is in league with the Boltons, and could cause trouble. We worry about meeting at Sheephead Hills, having to travel so close to his lands, but it was the only way to meet with you. Unless I have word from you to the contrary, I intend to remain here at the Wall after Stannis leaves. Either Thom or I will go with him, as you suggest, but my current plan is that Thom be the one who goes. Stannis has taken a liking to the boy, and I suspect he will be safer there than here at the Wall. You are more likely to get him back in one piece with Stannis than from here.

Melisendre will be with the troops send by Stannis, as you requested I secure. She is a clever woman, very capable of sensing deception. Tread lightly and rid yourself of her quickly or she could destroy everything we have worked for. She is difficult to get close enough to, but I have no doubt she bleeds and dies like any other woman.

-Nym Sand

Sansa turned over the letter, pondering its words. She would not argue with what Nym thought best for Thom. As long as one of them went with Stannis, she did not mind which. Stannis taking back Deepwood Motte, returning it to its rightful owners, would only strengthen her case in the North. The Iron Islands would have to be dealt with, but she would not be in a position to attack them properly until she had Winterfell.

She never had illusions that killing the red priestess would be simple, but she had faith that Obara and Tyene would manage.

Two things troubled her as she called for a servant to fetch Obara and Tyene to her. The first was this obviously deep need at the Wall for support and reinforcements, this terrible thing that they were fighting – whatever it was. Eventually they would have to contend with that, and Sansa knew that her lands would be swallowed first, should the Wall fail. The second was this news about Arnolf Karstark. He was a castellan, not a rightful lord, but this was a problem to deal with at the moment because his nephew was a prisoner of the Lannisters.

She was pulled out of reverie by the presence of the Sand sisters.

"We have news," she said, and she motioned for them to sit down. There was much to be done.

/-/

Sandor wasn't exactly relieved at the news that Stannis was sending troops, but he knew it was the closest word to what he was feeling. A long way was still to go, but thus far the plans Sansa and Doran hatched in Dorne were working out well. He was not privy to the details of the plans to remove the threat of the red priestess, but he did know that the Sand sisters had their work cut out for them, whatever the plan was.

"It's the Karstark problem that troubles me," Sansa said softly. "I cannot condone what Arnolf has done, but I do not want to lose the support of his people."

"Why do you think he is doing it?" Sandor asked, tracing his fingers up her arms, feeling her smooth, perfect skin.

"There are many reasons," Sansa said, standing abruptly and beginning to pace. "The most generous reason would be that he is trying to get his nephew back and thus has made a deal with the Boltons, who are in league with the Lannisters."

Sandor nodded. It was not an unreasonable suggestion that Karstark would make such a deal. The Manderlys had considered something like it, as Wylan told Sansa, and many of his family believed that he ought to have taken the offers more seriously.

"On the other hand," Sansa said nervously, "it is also possible that Arnolf is making a bid to seize and keep Karhold for himself. He's not like his brother…. He made me uneasy as a child, like…. Like Petyr Balish, or someone like that."

"A schemer," Sandor said, frowning at the thought of Littlefinger, the most dishonest and selfish bugger Sandor had ever had the misfortune of meeting. He had not given him thought for some time, and he wondered what the scoundrel was up to nowadays.

Sansa sat in a chair on the far side of the room, frowning down at her toes. They were pink from the cold, but if she felt it she gave no sign.

"It will be difficult," Sansa said, "weighing all the different factors in order to be successful. There are more strings than anyone could truly manage." She pressed her fingertips together, her face the picture of thoughtfulness. "My father rarely spoke of the war. Terrible things happened, and it was not a happy time for him. But from what little I did hear, everything seemed so simple. The Dragons were evil, crazed, and the king was ruining Westeros. His son kidnapped my aunt, and then killed her father and brother when they came for her. And the war happened, the right ones were victorious, and Westeros was saved from the Dragons." She paused, looking up at Sandor. "Two sides, a clear winner…. Simplicity. But this war…."

Sandor sat up and said, "Little Bird, the longer a story exists, the less true it becomes. If you had lived the stories in your precious songs, you might be surprised at how little truth resembles legend." He thought of the atrocities his brother committed in securing King's Landing, the tenuous alliance of Lannister and Baratheon and Stark, the way Jamie Lannister greeted Ned Stark and the trouble that meeting caused. There were plenty who wanted to see Tywin on the throne, not Robert Baratheon, and in many ways he might have made a better king. But then who would succeed him? Jamie? He was a soldier, not a king. Tyrion had the mind for it, but not the stature.

"The war was not black and white, and although this one is possibly more complex, the last was not simple."

Nothing ever is, he thought, wondering if there had ever been a king who just got it right, who made the right choices when it counted, and whose mistakes were on things that could be rectified, things that were not crucial. Sandor supposed no such ruler ever existed.

"There is much to be done before we go," Sansa said eventually. "Many choices and preparations. But at least it will not be waiting. The men were growing restless without a plan on what we were doing and when. They couldn't understand why we were not marching right away."

Sandor understood the restlessness, and he stood to coax his wife back to bed. She did not argue, curling up with him under the furs.

"I will be working with some of the squires before we go," Sandor said. He placed a kiss on her bare shoulder. Her skin was so cold against his lips. "They need to be prepared for the upcoming battles."

She surprised him with a giggle and Sandor asked her what she found so amusing. What was funny about battles?

"You miss Thom, don't you?" she said, smiling at him with knowing eyes.

Sandor said nothing. He would never have suggested that he missed Thom, but there was a certain emptiness in Sandor's days without Thom's training. And now Sansa told him that the boy would not be returning to them for some time, but that he would eventually go with Stannis to Deepwood Motte. She would not say what her expectations were of him in that role, but Sandor got the feeling that her goals were not merely to get Thom more experience. Why Nym couldn't do whatever it was Sandor did not understand, but he trusted his wife. She was young, but thus far her judgment had proved sound.

Of course, her brother had proven to have remarkable judgement as well, before the issues he caused with the Freys that led to the Red Wedding. Honor could be a sticky, unforgiving sort of thing, as the Starks learned a little too well. It was Sandor's duty to be certain his wife did not fall into the same trap.

Thus far, he was not concerned about that particular eventuality. Sansa had already proven that she was willing to scheme and deal and do whatever it took to get what she wanted. Her demands were simple, and she was cautious with the ability to take reasonable risks. She had come far indeed from the child he met so long ago. Her work with the Sand Snakes, while occasionally concerning, had proven that she had what it took to survive, if she really pushed herself to take those risks.

He pressed another kiss to her shoulder, relishing the feel and scent of her skin. There might come a time when she would have to decide whether to keep Sandor at her side or send him somewhere to do a task for her. After all, he was a great sword, and she could trust him completely. Those were the sorts of things she needed to take care of things for her. Sandor did not want to leave her side, and he liked to think that Sansa would not want him to leave either, but her success might depend upon her ability to send him away when she needed to.

His kisses trailed up to her neck.

It would be easy enough to lose themselves in thoughts of things to come. As Sansa had said, there was much work left to be done, and many things yet to be accomplished. Plans were unfolding well, but further planning was always required to keep things running smoothly as the initial plans progressed. Still, he believed firmly that in order to look to the future they had to manage to enjoy the moment, even when the only moments they had were few and in the homes of strangers. He closed his eyes as he teased the flesh of her neck with his tongue. He imagined that they were at Winterfell, in Sansa's bed, safe and secure, and he was seducing his wife.

Her fingers grasped at his hair, and he took this encouragement well, moving his kisses up to her jaw. The gasp of pleasure that escaped her lips caused him significant pleasure, and he could feel his body responding to her sounds and feel. It never too much for his body to react to her. She was perfection, his every desire in one person.

Sansa whispered his name as he paused his kisses to nibble lightly on her ear. To lose themselves in the moment, in the now, was simple enough when they were alone together, and he could feel his breathing becoming harder, shorter, as her little fingers left his hair and traced down his neck and back, pulling him closer. His mind raced with things he wanted to do, ways he wanted to please her. If they only had more time, all the time in the world, he would use every moment of it to cause her as much pleasure as he could.

More moments like this, he thought, kissing down her neck again, toward the valley of her breasts. He would pray to any god he could think of for more. It was the only thing worth praying for.