SANSA
Sansa woke up in silence to let Tyrion rest, she picked up a wool robe and headed downstairs to the kitchens while dawn was filtering through the thick curtains that kept the cold outside.
It was early, she was still sleepy, but she wanted to eat a slice of bread to ease her stomach, then sit at her desk beside the fire and write to Bran.
Elected as chairman of the council of the kings and queens, her brother was one of her best counsellors, beside her husband.
Her family was scattered, but Tyrion was home and Arya often visited; she hoped for more, from her only sister, but pressure Arya was a sure failure. It was already a miracle things were going well with the Lannisters, after the troubled years before the war, that caused her brother in law to be wounded and loose a hand.
She opened the door at the bottom of the stairs and a sudden cramp caused her to lay heavily against the frame. She breathed for a while standing still, the cramps intensified.
She tried not to cry, but tears were too close to her eyelids to be pushed back. She was sure what her body was telling her, a failure, another delusion.
Earlier than the second time, later than the first: she counted each day, praying for a miracle. Sansa remembered her mother during her last pregnancy with Rickon, when the doctor's prognosis wasn't good; Catelyn's roots from the Tully ancestral land helped the mother to be and she lighted candles in front of the altar of the Holy Mother in her private chapel and prayed every morning and evening to keep her baby alive.
Sansa was her mother's portrait but not her mother's body regarding children.
She slide on the tiled floor and let herself cry. She forgot the discomfort, the cramps, the coldness, she wept and her tears washed away her pain and her child.
Later she'd call Tyrion to be lead to Sam's practice and back on their bed, to be comforted and tended to. Now she just wanted to be alone.
Sandor Clegane's sleep was always difficult if he was sober, so he used to leave his room barely after dawn, busying himself with useful chores, wanting to show his devotion to house Stark who saved him from his horrible past.
When he arrived with coal to start the kitchen fires, he saw the prone body and kneeled beside Sansa.
Without need for words, he lifted her up, saw the red stain on her robe and holding his precious little Queen
run upstairs to her husband.
Sansa was like a feather in his strong arms, she felt his tears on her hair. Her people's love and devotion were a balm to her aching heart and another blow to her deapir for failing them with the long awaited heir to Winterfell.
JAIME
Admiration, respect, awe and fear. Not in equal parts.
Colonel Jaime Lannister remembered well when Arya Stark returned to the walls of Winterfell town with her scout Clegane, preceding the enemy's siege.
As the Northern Army Commander - after the Starks's decision to appoint him to the delicate position at the start of the war - he let them go out on patrol after Arya's insistent request; the young Stark girl gave up her nurse position when Lieutenant Bran Stark was badly wounded in his back. Arya wanted revenge, wanted to kill, she opened Jaime's office door and stood still and proud until Jaime lead her to the polygon and got the surprise of his life when she hold her first gun.
Full score.
A natural.
Better than her fencing, her father's great passion he passed to some of his children.
A few days of further training and long evenings spent together studying artillery were enough to confirm her abilities. Sargeant Clegane become her shadow – at Sansa's and Jaime's request - and the foundries close to the mines were reorganized to produce new and more powerful cannons. War effort, all resources were used, all people. Artillery weapons surrounded Winterfell town and the other main towns of the kingdom.
Screaming engine and screeching tyres, Arya jumped off her open jeep in a rush of limbs and shouted, calling her sister, Tyrion and Jaime loudly.
The siege. Frantic, fast, a horde of soldiers and mercenaries, a wild bunch of nameless and honourless soldiers, who wanted the gold and the goods of the North.
Colonel Lannister appreciated the young Stark woman barking orders, calling the men on the town walls and forcing to take refuge inside them Sansa and those unable to fight.
The artillery was ready, they had enough bullets stored under the basement and the huge crypt under the cathedral, the town was protecting the valleys behind it from the advancing soldiers with their menacing red and white flags.
All gates closed, all secret passageways controlled, the night fell and the lights of the enemy camps shone like wild animals' eyes in the darkness. The town was cut off from its allies, the army of the North had to fight alone, people were piled up inside the town, food and water rationed.
Arya was not afraid, a brave and strong girl, she remembered Jaime her aunt, a lifetime before, when their families were closer, when his father tried to forge deeper alliances through marriages.
Lyanna died because of men, of men's ego and jealousy and Arya showed clearly no intention at all to fall in the same trap.
She'd put a claim on someone if she felt inclined so, maybe a short living claim, not accepting to be claimed herself, Sansa had told the two Lannisters.
Arya was strong, in her petite body was hidden a powerful energy, fuelled by a natural lust for fighting.
In the war office, Tyrion was speaking with officers Tully, Greyjoy and Giantsbane, Jaime studied maps with Arya, their eyes met above the large sheets spread on the table. Smoke from the fire, sweat, bottles of single malt and food leftovers, yellow lamp lights that made Jaime's hair look white.
"I have a plan." She broke the silence, pointing her middle finger on the map. "The siege will be short if I sneak out from the canal running under the town hall and main street for a mile, it gets iced as soon as it leaves the hot springs on the western side and I can walk on it. I'm light."
Jaime followed her hand, intrigued by the idea, Sansa was worried.
"It is risky. They could see you in the open"
"I know this town better than anyone else. The canal ends in a bramble bunch near the old chapel with the fallen roof. I can crawl under and I know the path to the other side of the hill, leading to the farms. The woods are so dark and thick I can pass from branch to branch. I'll get a car in one of the farms and drive to reach the Wolves, while the united army under Jaime's command will create a diversion at the south town gate. Like asking an armistice, offering a truce."
At the mention of the special regiment with the grey wolf on the banner, the selected commandos lead by Arya's cousin, Major Jon Snow, based in most remote area of the North, Jamie had to admit Arya was a good strategist indeed.
She was determined, she deserved to be a high rank official beside him, dealing with the war council.
When after two days he spent awake - afraid to close his eyes and worried to death for Arya - Jaime heard the wolves' song of war, powerful and loud and saw their silver fur berets shining in the distance, he stood outside the gate she had told him to guard and guided the Northern army to a great victory.
TBC