Chapter XII
A tremendous roar woke Sansa, when the first rays of the sun barely appeared in the East.
She got up quickly from the bed, scared.
-My lady! My lady! .- She heard the cries of Sir Gerald Cassel calling her. Rodrick Cassel's eldest great-nephew, son of his nephew Jory, had become, despite his youth, the future hand of the Queen, and now had control of the castle on behalf of Sansa. With the same temperament as his uncle, his honesty, efficiency and commitment had been sufficiently demonstrated during the attack of the Lord of the Night, and during the time that it took to rebuild the fortress. She got the approval of the Council and Sansa, in the meeting that was held for it, with little discrepancy. His cousin Beth, Rodrick's daughter and Gerald's aunt, proud of her nephew and younger than him, had remained mistress of House Cassel.
The bustle of many other rowdy people was added to the shouts that came from the entrance gate to the fortress.
She put on a thick wool robe and with her hair down she left her chamber. As soon as she opened the door, Sir Gerald appeared before her. His shocked face made her fear the worst.
- The roof of one of the watchtowers has collapsed under the weight of the snow! .- He explained to her, as he indicated her to follow her.
- By all Gods !. - She exclaimed worried. They both marched there. How many?
Gerald turned, as they ran towards the entrance gate to the fortress ...
- Three ... The men were organizing to get them out, but the access from the patio has been badly damaged. They are trying from the open wall.
They arrived at the place in time to see how one of the soldiers was being transported by other men on a makeshift stretcher. He was unconscious and had a deep head wound-. Who knows who they will have to fight in the future ... I'm sure there will always be other White Walkers or other Cerseys who will threaten his life ... and who better to teach him than one of the best warriors I know.
The snow was still falling when they reached the wall. A score of men helped remove the rubble that partially blocked the entrance to the left tower of the gate, while others did the same with the entrance to the parade ground.
Sansa saw through one of the arrow slits someone moving inside the tower. She recognized him immediately. He was Sandor.
- Sandor .. .- She could not help saying his name with her sigh, while her face reflected anguish.
Gerald looked at her in surprise, but immediately turned all his attention to the tower entrance, where the screams that had just occurred indicated that another man had just been brought out.
Carrying him by the shoulders, they dragged them badly, but consciously, to the Tower of the Master. Sansa followed them with her eyes, until she saw them disappear into the shadows of the tower entrance. The falling snow was completely wetting her, but she barely felt it.
- My lady ...- Sir Gerald called her again- .. Clegane has just left the tower.
Sansa turned around quickly.
The people who huddled on the wall made a corridor to let him pass, between laments. He was carrying the last soldier in his arms. They saw right away that he was dead. His forehead had sunk in a way that was, anyway, incompatible with life.
Sansa motioned for him to stand beside her.
She put her hand on Sandor's arm and whispered a soft thank you.
- Take it to be prepared. We incinerate him tonight ... with honors. - she told her future Hand.
Sandor nodded and had only taken a couple of steps when the whole tower collapsed.
Dust filled everything, and multiple stones fell into the courtyard, but fortunately, no one was injured.
Between coughs, Sansa watched the entire entrance to the fortress, worried.
- The other towers are the same ... - Sir Gerald nodded. He, too, had noticed -. Take the men that are necessary, take out the ladders, and remove all that snow ... .- she looked down at the ground - ... and be careful with the ice.
Sansa put her hand to her mouth, unable to stop thinking about the corpse of the young man Sandor had taken from the tower. She watched as Sandor reached the patio and they placed the young man in a cart. The master would prepare it.
- Don't feel guilty, my lady.- Sir Gerald consoled her-. The snowfall tonight was terrible. We have been gathering snow since dawn.
Sansa, tightened the belt of her robe, took a deep breath.
The cold made him gain strength. She raised her head decisively.
- Organize everything Sir Gerald, and then immediately convene the Council ...
Two days later, in the Great Hall, the Council meeting took place. Sansa sat presiding over the large oak table, because the North Throne, a huge stone seat with arms carved into the heads of gaping wargs, could not be used until she was crowned.
The meeting between the houses of the North, called by Sansa, dealt with the consequences of the terrible winter that devoured them. In the months that had passed since her return from King's Landing, everything had gotten worse. The snowfalls did not give up and although Winterfell was prepared to endure, things were beginning to get complicated.
The wood to keep the fortress and its occupants warm was running out, and the lumberjacks sent in to cut down were coming back with frostbites, in some cases severe. The decision was made, that the houses further south would take care of it, and supply the rest of the Houses and the fortress.
The barns were always bursting, they also began to dwindle, and pork, beef, and everything that could be hunted, helped to maintain the population. Winterfell put her best hunters at the service of it, and an agreement was reached, that everything would be shared between the Houses in an equitable way. One of the heirs of House Mormont, cousin of the late and heroic Lady Lyanna, took it upon himself to keep control of it all.
Due to the insecurity that the harsh winter they were experiencing, many of them had decided to take their young children to Winterfell, accepting Sansa's offer in passing to offer them the possibility of learning to read and write, while supporting them. hot and nourished.
To that, it was added, as they have just verified that same morning, the damage that the snow and ice were causing in the buildings.
Of course the idea of asking Bran for help was out of the question.
Ultimately, Sansa had the feeling that the King of the Night must be laughing at them wherever he was. If things didn't change, winter would end what those ice monsters couldn't do.
- My lady!
Edmund caught his attention, during the permission for requests and particular questions from the participants. He was the butler of the fortress, in charge of the kitchens, cleaning and the castle's quartermaster.
-Tell me .. .- Sansa said, inviting him to speak.
- Young children, who are coming to Winterfell, when they are idle are a problem. They are dedicated to fighting with their swords in any place hindering those we are working with. Many of them only pursue Sir Clegane; From what you can see, they know who he was and they face him, waiting for him to tell them who has won in their little struggles.
Sansa smiled.
-... and what does he say? -. she asked imagining the situation.
Edmund spoke again.
- He snorts and scares them away ...
Gerald approached Sansa and said in a whisper:
- Yes, I have seen them ... They follow Sir Clegane, at all times.
Sansa had an idea.
-Leave that matter to me. I'll take care ...
Seeing that no one wanted to say more, Sir Gerald closed the Council meeting. He invited them to stay that night at the Castle. A hot dinner would be offered, and rooms, for them to rest if they so wished. Some of the nobles thanked him, but in spite of this, they began the way to their lands, before night fell on them on the way ... The old fears were still present in the superstitious people of the North.
When they all said goodbye, and Sansa headed to the Great Keep, Sir Wylis Manderly, son of Wylam Mardely, one of the great lords of the North, joined her as she walked through the corridors of the Castle, to her chambers.
- My lady, have you thought about what we talked about a few days ago?
Sansa lowered her head slightly and snapped it up again, with a sigh.
- Yes, Sir Wylis ...- She nodded with a serious face -... but I don't think it's time yet. I haven't even been crowned ...
- I know, my lady, but that will happen shortly and we are all concerned with ensuring descent in the Kingdom. She didn't beat around the bush. Many nobles were preparing their eldest sons to be the King consort - ... and avoid interference in North Landing as soon as possible -. He lightly touched her nose, in a gesture that Sansa had already seen when his thoughts were focused on something in particular - ... It is rumored that the gnome ...
- Lord Tyrion ... .- she corrected sharply, she beginning to lose patience.
- Yes ... Lord Tyrion ... - he repeated her name, drawled reluctantly -. ... he could even ask for your hand, and then the independence of the North would disappear, and King Bran would take control of everything ...
Sansa stared at him.
- He is my brother, a Stark and for that reason he has every right to the Kingdom ... but anyway that will not come to pass because ...
Sir Wylis licked his lips before interrupting:
- ... Sir Jon is also entitled to the Northern Throne ...
Sansa stopped walking and faced him openly.
- What are you implying? - She asked almost shouting, feeling that she was about to lose control -. Jon can't be King. He is exiled in the North ...- Sansa closed her eyes -... of his own free will. Jon doesn't want kingdoms to rule ...
She knew it very well, because only a few days ago she had received a raven, where he explained his decision not to stay on the wall. Tormund and ghost, along with the rest of the free people awaited him on the other side. He had no intention of going back through the remains of the Wall in the opposite direction.
Sir Wylis dug his hands into the sleeves of his thick bearskin coat and looked at her circumspectly.
- We no longer depend on the South ... and if the Royal Council decided that it is an option, it could be signed and carried out.
- Jon won't want to .. .- Sansa said again, tired of that conversation.
- It could be ...- Sir Wylis did not give up -... but if there are no descendants and the continuity of the autonomy of the North is threatened, drastic measures will have to be taken ... and I am sure that your brother, who wishes For the best of the Kingdom, you will not want to see the nobles engage in a war for power in the kingdom of their ancestors before seeing it fall into the hands of the South.
"The South will always be the enemy regardless of who governs it" .- she thought disheartened. With pain, she knew that this could happen, if she did not take the choice of a husband seriously ... The trouble is that she had already decided, and the only solution would be to convince the Council of nobles of it. Sandor's selfless action, saving the men in the tower, could help.
Taking a deep breath and trying very hard not to sound abrupt, she addressed the nobleman again:
- I promise to think about it in the next few days ... Now if you'll excuse me, I want to go see the wounded and check the damage in the tower before dinner. Sir Gerald awaits me ...
There was no time for Sir Wylis to reply. She turned and walked toward the parade ground, dimly lit by the torches and makeshift fires, pulling up the collar of her coat and pulling on a thick woolen hood to protect herself from the snow.
She found Sandor in the damaged tower, helping to carry wooden beams.
- I would like to speak with you, Sir Clegane ... You have been quite a hero this morning and you deserve my thanks.
Sandor nodded. He called a couple of boys, gave the beam to them and sent them to the warehouse where they were keeping what could be reused.
Afterwards, he and Sansa walked away from the group of men working on the tower, hiding from prying eyes in the arches of the stables.
Nobody noticed them ... All those who were not working were in the interior rooms sheltered from the immense cold.
Sandor walked over to one of the many fires that lined the courtyard and tried to warm his hands. Sansa stepped in front of him. Heat warmed her cheeks and she closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation.
Sandor watched her in wonder at how beautiful she could be. It didn't matter if it was hot and cold. Her white face had the ability to glow.
He cleared his throat loudly.
- What did you want to tell me? .- he asked, without preamble.
Sansa gulped. She had to do everything possible to get him to accept his proposal. If the nobles began to respect him, beyond his reputation as a bloody warrior, perhaps he would have a chance.
- The youngest children of the lords of the North - he began to tell her - .. they are living in the fortress, looking for the warmth that we can offer them and that their families can take care of their lands without fear for them. We all knew winter would be long and harsh ... but this is too much. As there is a truce, I don't know what will become of us.
Sandor moved closer to her, seeing the concern on her features.
- You can always ask your brother and the fucking dwarf for help.
Sansa closed her eyes and shook her head vehemently.
- The nobles would not approve. - He remembered the conversation he had just had with Sir Wylis - ... The South is still the South, although now a Stark is on the throne. King's Landing will always be the enemy that wants to dominate us.
Sandor cursed and crossed his arms. Stubbornness was intrinsic to the North. Sansa was right, winter was being too harsh, and not just for him. He hit the ground to warm himself as he watched Sansa amid the falling snowflakes relentlessly. Everything stirred inside him every time he saw her. He pursed his lips and asked her directly, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible:
- What do you want me to do?
Sansa stopped looking at the white cloak and turned to look at him. Her expression relaxed considerably.
- I know that those children do not move away from you, they have seen them surround you, asking you for advice on how to fight ... Sandor, you are a hero to them.
Hearing him, he couldn't help but laugh into the air.
- By the seven, Sansa, I'm not anyone's hero ...
She moved closer to him.
- Yes, you are ...- she told him effusively- ... What you did taking the men out of the Tower is what a hero would do ... and also, since they found out that you are The Dog ... .- Sandor made a gesture of disgust when hearing his old nickname -... they haven't stopped asking about you. .- She took his hand. He didn't resist, already lost in Sansa's icy blue eyes-. You fought in battles that only bards have heard, and you survived. How can you not be their hero!
She bit her lip before continuing to speak.
- Teach them! .- Despite the emphasis with which she pronounced it, it was not an order, just a wish that he would find his place and abandon the idea of leaving Winterfell, and Sandor knew it knows who they will have to fight in the future ... I'm sure there will always be other White Walkers or other Cerseys who will threaten his life ... and who better to teach him than one of the best warriors I know.
She raised her right hand and caressed his cheek, covered by a thick beard.
Sansa allowed herself to be carried away by his proximity so many times longed for in recent months, and she approached him, fixing her eyes on his lips.
Sandor, who had been avoiding her since that last kiss on the boat, could not move away. Perhaps it was because of the longing for not being able to be with her ... or because of the warmth of her hand, but he lowered his head and kissed her.
After seconds of hesitation, they hugged tightly. It was a slow kiss that deepened ... but without any of them allowing themselves to give in to the passion that was dominating them. They hadn't touched since the night they'd spent together on the ship, before reality devoured them.
Sansa was the first to pull away.
- I miss you ...- she said sighing. She kept looking at him for his reaction. He just sighed heavily. Sansa put her feelings aside and returned with her proposal. -. Think about it ... You are a warrior, no one better than you ...- she licked her lips.- I don't want you to go. I will speak to the council as soon as they proclaim me Queen, she promised, but you have to help me ... ...- she begged him.
Sandor turned his eyes to heaven, cursing himself for how weak he was when he was with her.
He had tried to get away from her; he had taken his things and a horse from the stables, dozens of times since he recovered, to leave without looking back ... but always the image of Sansa was represented in his mind and he found himself returning to work without being able to do anything to avoid it . He couldn't take much longer, because he was sure he couldn't bear to see her in the arms of another, no matter how marriage of convenience.
She cleared her throat and nodded.
- I'll try, but I don't promise anything. My thing is not patience ... despite what Arya said -. He slowly stopped embracing her, kissed her gently on the forehead and moved away from her.
Sansa did not turn to see him go, she took a deep breath and went determined to the Maestre's room that cared for the injured, while a shy smile was drawn on her face. She was sure that she had won the first battle.
To be continue...