*DANY*
I walk with a large smile upon my face and my hand clasped firmly in Tyrion's own and approach Sansa and Sandor, his arm around her drawing her close, her form melded to his, her head nestled on his broad chest.
" Sister ", I say as they break their embrace and walk slowly, now hand in hand to greet us. Sansa leaves her husband's grip only long enough to hug me before she returns to the comfort of his side.
Tyrion and I watch for a few moments as an entire conversation it seems passes between husband and wife before Tyrion clears his throat to say...
*TYRION*
" It is good to see you again, Sandor just isn't quite the same gruff person without his little bird to watch and ward and I am also quite sure those who practice against him will be pleased as he seems to take it out on them the most ", says I, eyes twinkling.
I notice with mirth as Sansa cocks her head to Sandor, who's face colors slightly in a blush. For all his ferocity he is first and foremost a man in love. I am still somewhat taken aback on how he has taken to being a husband and father as though he has done so all his life.
My eyes slide to the beauty that is mine own beside me, her tiny frame and delicate features, the silver of her hair and the eyes that gaze at me with love and promise.
*SANDOR*
I look with longing to the long lean frame that is my Lady wife. The copper of her hair all but shimmers in the fires light. She nuzzles our first born, taking in his scent, she removes her gauntlet to brush careful fingertips on his bare cheek. His small features pinking in the light but chill breeze.
It is then I break my silence to say, " My wife and Queen, it is good to have you once more among us." " Lord Bolton marches to meet us and will be here the day after next. "
*SANSA*
My stomach churns at mention of the name, his bastard spawn still sits Winterfell holding what people remain within it's walls as so much chattel and enslaved with a perverse and sadistic grip. I very much want to hear what feeble excuse he will present to me for the slaughter at the Twins, merely standing here my Lady mother and brother's blood cries out a song of rage, pain and betrayal. Soon my family, soon will another's blood will join thee.
I look to Tyrion and say, " Who's troops march from the southwest then ? " " Atop Summer did I see Bolton's troops moving towards this encampment, yet another force of near equal size approaches us as well from the opposite direction."
*TYRION*
" Alas Sansa, that would be forces made up of Bolton's, Lannister's and Tyrell's and many minor houses as well, they think to take us unawares it seems. " " They have forgotten there is much to be seen from a dragon's back ", I say slyly.
" Did you not see as well the force marching from the North ? "
Sansa's eyes widen but briefly and her cheeks color slightly that she did not think to look North as well.
*SANSA*
" I did not, tell me true do these numbers wish us ill as well ? "
I feel the grip of my husband tighten around my waist as he nuzzles the top of my bare head. It is then several others join us in the forms of Gilly, Sam and the aged and bent Maester Orbyrt.
*GILLY*
" It be them from the north beyond the wall, yer Grace. " " The free folk come in answer to the call of the Northern Queen, of freedom and to flee them with the glowing eyes and black hands. " " We may not be book readers and have fancy names like you in the the lands this side of the Wall but we know we cannot defeat this cold death alone. "
I peer at this Northern Queen as she thinks on this bit of news, she seems to be thinking on a course of action. I like this woman, she is high born but not what we had been told, from times of my grans, grans gran and beyond. I have eaten at her table, I have watched her as she is around the lowborn and those not of her people, I have watched her walk freely among all even after others have tried to to take her life. I have also seen her kill.
She has not asked any to do something, no matter how grave or small, that she could not or would not do herself. This woman I will follow, this woman is of the North and I know she will someday rule all of us from the ice and snow, us from the cold reaches of the North.
*SAM*
I watch Gilly as she speaks her thoughts to Sansa, I am still helping her to adjust to life this side of the wall. I am glad her first experience of high born is that of the northern Queen. Sansa has a quiet strength that belies her soft features. There is none of the highborn haughtiness that curses many a houses ladies.
I look to Clegane, when Sansa returned to us the palpable rage and pain that roiled within and off him subsided, his eyes now return to the unreadable depths as is his normal countenance. He was attentive to small Ned's needs, changing his wraps, bathing and feeding him when not in drills with the troops. It is hard at times to believe this man who's savagery is well known in all seven kingdoms is the self-same man who has bisected men in battle, who revels in blood letting as the same man before me now that basks in the light of his Queen's every word and look.
To see them reunited is a blessing I believe, I am shamed to admit, even to myself that I am envious of the intimacy they share, not in a sexual sense. When one moves the other adjusts their stance to mirror their mate. They share a closeness that I have never before seen displayed between two people, not mine own parents, nor any I have previously observed.
I will speak to the Queen's on what I have discovered, I must needs to prowl the dusty depths of the Citadel, for if we seek what I think we are only there will I find the confirmation I require... No, no I mustn't even think too loudly what I believe to be true...
*SANSA*
Our group walks towards the remaining Tower. I fairly twitch with a morbid need to see this scoundrel in the form of Lord Frey. It is good that our troops took the remaining tower without out the bloodshed of the first, it is good also the Lord of the flayed man banner comes this way. I wonder in the deepest recess of my heart if I am up to this, to confront another of a noble line and use him as a tool and nothing more.
Lord Tyrion equated it to using a mad dog to wreak havoc in a stockyard and not to forget that in the end the only thing to be done to mad dogs, is put them down. Alas, we need his troops and arms, seasoned men, accustomed the rigors of days long marches, cold meals and little sleep.
Will Lord Bolton agree or will he pit his forces against ours ?
Enough, I am among friends, comrades in arms, I stand in Westeros and Bolton will be here soon enough, I wish to spend some time with my husband and son before the traitor comes.
*SANDOR*
My wife for all her skill and bravery is still a young woman at heart. She has taken up her father's arms and leads on from where her brother and King had fallen. I know she has doubts, on her ability to lead, will her people welcome her open armed and handed ? Will they rise up and follow a the SHe~Wolf ?
I know most of her moods and she now puts on her bravest face, her eyes warm and loving towards myself, small Ned and our convoluted family formed across the sea. Now show her resolve in the clear blue as ages old ice, she is first and foremost of the North. There is a chill behind those clear blue eyes, a wisdom and a savage grace as well.
We go now to the dungeons of the remaining tower now to it's Lord who is now bereft , of holdings and monies he so coveted. When we all had the dream of Bran and were all given a token of our dreams it was young Suzahn that literally held the key to freeing the Great Jon and as her tiny hand turned the key you could hear the slide of unseen bolts and of counterweights hidden within the very walls and beneath the flagstones we stood on. The labors of many to try and dig under or over his cell for naught.
It now holds it's former master, no soft down bed for a murderer and betrayer and breaker of our most ancient of laws. Instead he wallows in rank straw a chamber pot and lone tallow candle his only company, that and the louse that now infest him.
I wish to get this done with, that I may show my wife and Queen just how much I have missed her lean form pressed to mine, the taste of her, the scent of her causes a stirring in my nethers.
*GREAT JON*
We have outflanked the mixed troops of Lannister's, Tyrell's, Bolton's and a hodgepodge of minor houses, the Dothraki and Unsullied mixed with Northmen as we stalk our prey who remain oblivious. Sneaking thousands of troops via the river and those men under the command of the Onion Lord was a stroke of brilliance, these women who lead as men are indeed a force to be reckoned with.
Ser Barriston and Souzahn circle unseen high above to lend the might of their mounts to the soon to be sprung trap. I shake my head and run fingers through the tangle of my beard, now run through with more than a touch of grey and think to myself of the young child who commands the power of a dragon.
Of Sansa who used to pine for noble knights and sweet songs of love and battle. I know this woman warrior has seen her fair share of betrayal and death and sent more than one man to the grave by her own hand. I wonder what my now dead Lord Eddard Stark would say to see his eldest daughter lead an army form a dragons back. I smile inwardly and think he would be as proud of her as King Robb.
Aye, Winterfell will again rise by the Old Gods let me live to see it through and be done. The matter of getting that hells be damned spawn of Roose to relinquish his grasp upon the stout walls of the Keep.
Enough, he chastises himself there are greater issues at hand, He hand singles the men and as one the archers rise and rain death on them they have surrounded. Then hell opens it's hungry maw and the STranger rises to claim his due. The sky belches fire as dragons enter the fray.
*RANDOM PIKEMAN*
I seen fourteen name days before the Lannister sigil came to our small village. I wanted to see the world and see the painted ladies of King's Landing, to have coin in my pocket and taste something other than the thin rank ale old man Makenn cooks up in the shed behind his home.
I seen no painted women, only the dirty breeches and backs of whatever conscript trudges through mud and blood and horseshit in front of me. Aye, they feed us alright hard bread and thick gruel, with a rare radish, or other root and rarer still meat, exceptin' once a week we get a hard bit o'jerked meat.
I am angry because we are marching through woods and the ground is uneven, the wind always biting, gnaws now with sharp teeth even though my cloak that was once a proud shade of crimson and woolen. On my breast is a lion rearing and clawing on hind legs. I see the flowers of the Tyrell's on others breasts and the flayed man on still other and some I do not know.
I walk in measured steps when I hear a thwang and whistle from all directions and see the older men around me raise shields over their heads and squat down.
I feel a pressure and look down at an arrow lodged deep in my chest. I think to myself it doesn't hurt nearly as bad as I thought it should. A cold spreads from my center and my legs feel leaden and unwilling to move and I drop to my knees and the jarring moves the arrows tip slightly and a searing pain hits in waves. I sink lower as I paw with unfeeling fingers attempting to draw the arrow out.
My eyes are not working right its as though I look from inside a tunnel to the outside, I hear the battle is starting as I lose my balance and fall to my side and watch what unfolds around me. I see muddy boots and other men falling and I see a dragon. We had heard rumours that were denied by them that lead us as nothing but tales to strike fear into the foolish.
I don't feel anything, not even the cold now, I am sorry I did not see any painted ladies but I have seen a drago...
