Chapter 39
Empty.
It was a simple word that barely did justice to the hollowness of Winterfell. The hearth roared in the Queen's chambers but it did nothing to chase away the coldness that had settled over the room, nor did it thaw the ice that had filled the gap where Sansa's heart had once been. How could it be possible for two people and a direwolf pup to bring a castle to life? Arya was always a ghostly presence, often found lurking in the shadows. Lyon had added his own charm to Winterfell too, but Sansa knew whose presence she missed the most. Sending Arya and Lyon away had broken her heart, but losing Tyrion had sucked the life from her.
The Queen sank onto the stool in front of her dresser, her blue eyes sweeping over the room that had been full of life just hours before. Tyrion's lion blanket was lying across the bed and the trunk that contained his brother's remaining possessions was still tucked away next to his drawers. The books Pod and Arya had gifted him sat on a shelf, while his name day gifts were in their usual place on top of his drawer. There hadn't been time to pack up his possessions, and a selfish part of Sansa hadn't wanted to. Doing so would have risked drawing attention to her plan, but it also would have made everything far too real.
The lion toy Nessa and her brother had made for Tyrion watched her with deep black eyes from its position on top of the box Arya had gifted him. Sansa knew without looking the box contained only two things; the dragonglass infused stone Lyon had found and the direwolf pin she'd placed on her husband's tunic less than two weeks ago. Everything was in its usual place. It was easy to think Tyrion would stroll through the door any moment with a smile on his face that would warm her from head to toe.
Sansa drew in a shuddering breath, turning away from the room that held her favourite memories and towards the mirror on her dresser. There was no point clinging to a false hope. Winterfell would never feel like home again. How could it, when the people that made it home were gone?
Her reflection looked terrible. What little colour her face usually held had gone south with her husband and her dull blue eyes were puffy and red from her tears. Even her hair appeared weak and lifeless as it hung limply around her face. This wasn't the image a Queen should project.
It was her choices that had led to this rebellion. She was a Stark, she would face the consequences of her mistakes - and there'd been so many of them. She'd trusted the wrong people, let her past control her and hurt those she loved the most. It had taken time but Sansa had thought she was getting better. The ghosts of her past would never leave but she'd tried to free herself from their influence. She'd worked hard to earn Tyrion's forgiveness, and she cherished nothing more than she did his love. As Queen she'd slowly began to accept help, sharing her burden between those she trusted the most. Little by little things were improving; for the first time in so many years she'd felt true happiness.
'You'll lose everything Sansa Stark, and I'll make sure you watch it burn'
The dark words whispered through her mind, as they had ever since she received the first letter from Robin Flint. There had been three letters in the past week and much like the ones Tyrion had once received they were unidentifiable and untraceable. It didn't matter. Sansa knew who they were from; she knew what they meant.
Everything she'd built would be taken from her. Robin wanted her crown and he would start a war to win it. The North would burn, lives would be lost - all for a crown that no-one could understand the weight of until they wore it.
Sansa let her fingers drift to the necklace that hung around her neck, brushing over the pendant that had once belonged to Tyrion's mother. It wasn't right to keep it; she should have returned it to Tyrion before she sent him away. Yet, Sansa couldn't bear to part from it. The night Tyrion had given it to her was one of her most precious memories. The surprise dinner; talking and laughing as the North stretched out around them. They'd joined in bed that night, and to Sansa it was the true consummation of their marriage. Politics and fear hadn't driven either of them; they'd joined out of love and things between them had continued improving ever since.
The Queen swallowed down a sob, tearing her eyes from her broken reflection. There was no point thinking about what had been, or what could have been. Sansa had lost much of herself over the years, forgetting herself as she adapted to the monsters around her. This time she'd make things right. Tyrion and Arya had reminded her of what mattered most and she wouldn't lose sight of it.
Family, Duty, Honour.
Sansa had got her priorities wrong so many times but not anymore. She'd taken care of her family. They would hate her for it but she wouldn't allow any harm to come to them. Tears burned at the back of Sansa's eyes but she refused to let them escape. Her duty to her family had been taken care of and now her duty to the North was to be considered. Her stomach twisted and turned at the prospect of what came next, but she wouldn't run from her duty. The Northerners may think her time in the south had changed her but she was still a Stark, still Ned Stark's daughter. She might not be as brave as Robb or as honourable as Jon but she always knew her duty - and she would see it through to the end.
"If Sansa calls the banners our numbers might not be enough"
Robin frowned at the warning, turning to face lord Locke "She won't call the banners"
"You sound certain"
"I lived in Winterfell for weeks, working with her, gaining her trust - I know exactly how she thinks my lord" said Robin "She distrusts half of the lords in the North, and thinks she's better than the rest. Why else would she marry the imp over her own kin? The Northerners aren't good enough for her"
Lord Locke was nearing the end of his thirties, though he still carried himself with a youthful arrogance. His brown hair and thick beard obscured much of his face but Robin didn't miss the anger in his eyes.
"Aye. If you ask me the Starks power died with Ned Stark. His son led us to war with the Lannisters and then threw it all away for a bloody woman. Bran Stark refused the lordship of Winterfell and the bastard King Jon Snow bent the knee to the Targaryen girl" he grumbled "Sansa Stark may have got us independence but she can't be trusted. Too much time in the south if you ask me. Then she marries the bloody Lannister dwarf!"
Activity buzzed around the camp though it was obscured by the tent Robin and lord Locke were stood in. A table and a map were spread before them, though Robin hardly needed to look at it. All the planning and preparation was at an end - Winterfell would be his.
"If she's under attack why wouldn't she call the banners" repeated lord Locke, jabbing his finger at Castle Cerwyn "the Queen never answered any of my letters, but I know she answered the letters of other lords. They would aid her"
Robin bit back a smirk, forcing his face into a look of sympathy instead. Northerners were a stubborn people, and staunchly loyal. Unless they were snubbed of course. It had quickly become apparent at Winterfell Sansa was doing the work of several people rather than delegating tasks. Offering to help with her correspondence was an offer she could hardly refuse without making her distrust known. The Queen in the North had prioritized the major Northern houses when establishing her rule. An understandable approach to take, but it had left her open to abuse. Destroying correspondence from minor houses was a simple way to build resentment towards her and leave the lords of those houses open to suggestion.
Robin's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding against each other. The minor lords would have flocked to his rebellion, if it wasn't for Tyrion fucking Lannister. The imp had taken over dealing with the minor houses, and the fiasco in the Wolfswood had only endeared him to the likes of house Mazin. They would have been an invaluable ally, but the fools had refused to join him because of their loyalty to the Lannister.
It was no use focusing on what should have been. Robin swallowed down his anger, offering lord Locke a smile.
"You're correct my lord. Lady Tallhart and lord Cerwyn would ride to defend Winterfell if asked and its likely house Hornwood and perhaps house Mazin would too. Sansa will not ask though, and if she did their numbers would not be sufficient"
Lord Locke was a key ally, but he was also stubborn. Convincing him to join the rebellion had taken weeks but he'd eventually conceded the Starks were no longer fit to rule. Even now the man questioned him at every turn.
"You're forgetting house Dormund. Then there are the Manderlys and Glovers. Lady Dustin may be an old woman but she commands a significant number of men" warned lord Locke "We have six thousand sellswords, two thousand of your men and fifteen hundred of my own. The men you've recruited from the villages give us another thousand at best"
"There's our other friend too" reminded Robin
The man's face twisted in disgust "I don't trust the Unsullied"
Robin nodded sympathetically "Nor do I my lord, but our goals are well aligned and I'd much rather sacrifice them and the sellswords than any Northern lives. You ask why Sansa won't call her banners, but it comes down to trust. She's lost the North and she knows it. Look at what she did to Gawan. The other houses may lack the courage to join our rebellion but they will not rush to defend Sansa Stark and her imp either. When the Starks are defeated and I become King the rest of the North will fall in line"
Aaron Locke's eyes burned into him "Hmm. You may be right your Grace, but if you're wrong we'll all be slaughtered"
"Do you doubt our cause?"
"Of course I bloody don't. The North needs new blood and the Starks are too close with the Six Kingdoms. They even let those filthy wildlings stay south of the wall!"
Robin nodded, dropping his head "Quite right my lord. Gawan shared our commitment and the Starks murdered him. I've heard whispers there wasn't even a formal trial. Make no mistake, Sansa is a southern Queen with a northern name"
"Aye. My family was loyal to the Starks and it led us to near extinction"
They turned back to the maps, going over the main path they would use to approach Winterfell. It was unfortunate Gawan was dead but every cause needed a martyr and his erratic behaviour would have undermined that cause - no Northerner would serve another Ramsay Bolton. Lord Locke and the men could prepare for battle all they wanted but Robin suspected it wouldn't come to that. The Stark Queen distrusted the Northerners as fiercely as she defended them - she would not sacrifice the people to save her crown.
No-one else needed to know that.
It had taken time but Robin had been careful to spread various whispers across the North, rumours that the Queen only saw the highborn, that her brother Bran ruled the North through her. The lies and rumours had quickly taken root in those already embittered by years of war, and the Queen's lack of public appearances offered no alternative version of events. Sansa Stark was the Queen no-one knew, and in a fortnight she would be nothing.
The Queen looked terrible.
In the two days since lord Tyrion and lady Arya had been sent south the Queen had fallen into a state of mourning. The old Maester steeled his nerves to ask once again.
"My Queen, please reconsider this course of action"
Sansa lifted her head from the documents between them, turning her empty blue eyes towards him.
"It has to be this way Maester"
"There's still time" he urged "you can call the banners"
"No, I won't let innocent people die for my mistakes"
"Your Grace, allowing Robin Flint to rule puts them all in danger. You saw what he and Gawan Glover did to lord Tyrion"
"I'm well aware Maester" she said sharply "but Robin has a large enough army to wreak havoc across the North. If I oppose him with the forces I have there could be a slaughter"
"Not if you call all of your banners"
Maester Wolkan swallowed down his disappointment as the young Queen once again shook her head. Trust was the crux of the Queen's problem, and while it was one Wolkan sympathised with it would be the death of her. Sansa was anticipating defeat in a battle between Robin's forces and an army made up of the few houses she trusted. Wolkan understood the Queen's fears. Robin and Gawan had deceived her for many weeks before betraying her, and the betrayal of house Locke was another blow to her reign. Sansa would not call on the aid of houses she didn't fully trust, and to her detriment that included the Glovers and Manderlys as well as houses Dustin and Dormund.
Wolkan sighed, deciding to try a different approach.
"Your Grace, may I ask what you imagine would happen if you called all of your banners? As I see it you would most likely defeat Robin Flint and end his rebellion"
"It's possible" she conceded, slumping back in her chair "but it's not likely. Even if all the houses answered my call, who's to say they wouldn't turn their cloaks to Robin? It could turn into a blood bath - especially with the Unsullied"
"We don't know how many Unsullied Robin has at his disposal your Grace"
"It'll be enough" she said darkly "Robin wouldn't use them as a threat if there weren't a significant number of them"
This was pointless. No matter how many times they had this conversation the Queen refused to see reason. For one who was usually guided by logic her decision-making in this matter was guided purely by fear - and the only ones who had any hope of changing her mind had been sent south for their own protection.
Rather than trust the rest of the North to aid their Queen, Sansa would die to protect them from an unlikely scenario where the lords would turn on her. The young woman sat across from him was an excellent Queen. She would die to protect the Northerners, but refused to accept they would die for her. As the Maester of Winterfell it was his duty to advise and serve, no matter how much he disagreed.
"Very well your Grace" he said, stiffly bowing his head
Sansa pushed a document towards him "I need a copy of this letter for every Northern house"
"Do you want them to be sent immediately?"
"No" she said, her face tightening "not until it's time"
"As you wish" he said, gathering his documents into a pile and moving from the chair
He'd just made it to the door when Sansa's voice reached him. For once it wasn't the Queen of the North speaking, but Sansa Stark instead.
"Do you think they're ok?" she asked quietly
She wanted reassurance, but Wolkan found himself unable to offer it to her "If your plan is proceeding they'll be asleep your Grace. I hope that is the case. If they were awake I don't doubt they'd be devastated by what you've done"
To say Arya was not happy would be enough of an understatement to be insulting.
It was bad enough she'd dropped her guard to an extent that allowed someone to slip a sedative into her, but waking to find herself trundling along in the back of a cart was only adding insult to injury.
The cart lurched as it went over a bump in the road, though it did nothing to disturb the other occupants. Upon waking Arya's first instinct was escape but the pieces of what happened had quickly fallen into place. The cart was padded with pillows and blankets, while a tarp was pulled over the top that extinguished most of the light. A few meagre strands of light had made it into the cart - just enough to illuminate the sleeping face of Tyrion across from her.
Stupid Sansa.
Only her sister would be dumb enough to send away her family when there were enemies at the door.
"Reckon it's time for another dose?"
Brice's gruff voice reached Arya's ears and she strained to pick up the conversation.
"Not just yet" said Alec "don't want to give them too much of that shit"
"Aye, can't be good for 'em" agreed Brice "reckon the lad can do it next time"
"Do I have to?" moaned Cayn "I keep thinking Lyon's going to get my fingers"
"He'll get more than that if you let him wake up"
Since waking, Arya had done her best to assess the situation but there was only so much she could do without drawing attention to herself. From the few snippets of conversation she'd heard there were only three travelling with them; Alec, Brice and Cayn. They were heading south but Arya hadn't picked up any information that indicated where they were. The only real course of action was to reveal herself and confront the Winterfell guards but Arya could hardly do that with Tyrion asleep. Cayn would be the easiest to dispatch in a fight but Brice would be more difficult. His size and experience made him more of a threat but Alec was the biggest problem. He was easily the best fighter of the three and the only one with a hope to rival her. Taking on all three at once was a risky strategy, and she could hardly flee without Tyrion.
Shuffling caught her attention in the top of the cart alerting her to Lyon waking up.
"Lyon" she whispered "stay still"
The cart was quite cramped with the three of them and Arya had been careful to stay still after she woke up so as not to draw the guards attention. She brought her hand down to rest against the hilt of her sword as Lyon carried on squirming - the wolf would cost her the element of surprise.
"Lyon" she breathed, hoping the direwolf would understand
To her surprise Lyon made no sound as he shuffled closer to his master, nudging and licking at his face. It was a few minutes later when the wolf turned to her, after thoroughly bathing Tyrion in drool. Bright green eyes met hers, a soft growl escaping the wolf that sent a chill through Arya.
Lyon wasn't vicious to those his master loved - his growl was a warning.
Arya pushed closer to Tyrion, careful to not make any noise. Somehow the direwolf had understood how precarious the situation was, but he'd also sensed something was wrong with Tyrion and demanded help in the only way he could.
Tyrion didn't stir as Arya grasped his shoulder and shook him, sending a jolt of panic through her.
"Tyrion" she whispered in his ear, still eliciting no response from him
Lyon was nudging at Tyrion again as Arya's hand moved to her brother's neck, finding only an uneven pulse there. Her hands flew over Tyrion then, quickly checking his vital signs with growing horror. His breathing was weak and erratic when it shouldn't be. They'd most likely been given nightshade to put them asleep but it should have worn off by now.
The conversation she'd just heard shot through her mind, instantly stilling her.
Time for another dose. She'd taken it to mean they would be drugged again before they could wake up but Arya had falsely believed they hadn't long left Winterfell. It was impossible to tell where they were from the darkness of the cart, but Arya was forced to confront the possibility they'd been gone more than a few hours. That would imply they'd been given nightshade multiple times since leaving the castle. Arya's hands trembled as she shook Tyrion. It would be ironic beyond belief if Sansa managed to kill Tyrion in an effort to protect him, but Arya wouldn't allow that to come to pass - she wouldn't lose her brother.
"Tyrion" she urged, tapping his cheek to try and rouse him
It was the nightshade, it had to be. Arya had developed some resistance to various potions over her time with the faceless men, and she'd also learned how to weaponise them. Nightshade could cause sleep or death depending on how much was given, and calculating the right amount for either was a balancing act. It was becoming increasingly obvious Tyrion hadn't been given the right dose.
Arya grit her teeth, grasping his face "Tyrion, wake up"
He groaned weakly and it was all the incentive Arya needed to act. She grasped her valyrian steel dagger which had been placed next to her, slicing it through the tarp that covered them. Lyon seemed to understand what was happening. As soon as daylight reached into the cart Arya leapt through the gap she'd made and the direwolf moved protectively over Tyrion. Cayn and Brice were riding either side of the cart with Alec on the horse that was pulling it.
"Oh shit!" grumbled Brice, reaching for his sword
There was no point - Arya was moving too quickly. She threw herself from the cart, landing on the back of Cayn's horse as the group came to a halt. The young man was too startled to react in time, and it was far too late as Arya pushed the edge of her dagger against his throat.
"Lady Arya, it's me!" he said
"I know who you are" she replied, tightening her grip
Alec had brought the horse and cart to a halt, turning in the saddle to assess the situation. Brice had his sword out at the other side of the cart but made no move to approach her.
"I reckon we should all take a breath here" said Brice, his eyes locked on the blade at Cayn's neck
"It could be Cayn's last one" said Arya
"These are the Queen's orders" said Alec, swinging off his horse. He approached the horse she now shared with Cayn but made no move to draw his weapon
"Were the Queen's orders to kill Tyrion?" she spat "That's what you've done"
"What?" asked Cayn, twisting his head to try and see into the cart
Brice paled as he looked in the cart "Lannister don't look too good"
Alec moved to check on Tyrion but Arya wouldn't let that happen. Anger surged through her body like fire - and Sansa wasn't here to bear the brunt of it.
"Get away from him" she snapped "or Cayn won't be going any further than this"
Alec held his hands up in placating gesture "Lady Arya, we're on your side. Tyrion is our friend"
"If he was your friend you wouldn't have taken him from his home. You wouldn't have given him enough nightshade to kill him!"
"Queen Sansa charged me with this" said Alec, meeting her gaze evenly "if you want to spill some blood take mine"
A dark part of Arya was tempted. She could kill Cayn before Alec or Brice could stop her. A well placed throw of her dagger could take down another. The third would be more difficult but Arya was angry, and it was never wise to provoke a wolf.
Her eyes drifted over the cart, lingering on Tyrion lying unconscious in the back. Arya warred between her desire for revenge and the need to help Tyrion. Both were important, but family would always come first.
Ser Davos sighed, gazing at the letter in his hands.
"Suppose you aren't going to explain this?"
The King shook his head "No, but it's important the letter reaches its destination"
There were plenty of questions the old Knight wanted to ask, from why Bran was sending a letter to this particular castle to what was going on in the North. They hadn't long arrived at Casterly Rock when a letter came for the King, followed by another two days later. Bran hadn't shared the contents or who they were from but it was fairly obvious to Ser Davos the letters had come from Winterfell. The fact Bran was sending a letter North now only confirmed his thoughts.
"Are you going to ask?" said Bran
Ser Davos suppressed a shudder. As much as he liked Bran it was eerie how he seemed to know what people were thinking. What happened with the guard at Winterfell hadn't made Davos any more comfortable with the three-eyed raven either.
"Is there any point asking your Grace?" he said "If you wanted to tell me you would have"
His mouth twitched upwards at the answer "I will tell you Ser Davos, but not until the time is right. The North is balancing on a knife's edge. A single act, no matter how small, could cause it to rise or fall"
While Ser Davos had great patience for Bran's Northern attachment, it would be nice if he considered his own six Kingdoms on occasion. Though, he supposed, that was the purpose of having a Hand.
"Do we need to go back?" asked Ser Davos
"You can relax lord Hand, we won't be returning North. The situation is out of my control"
As relieved as he was to not be returning North, Bran's ominous words didn't fill him with optimism for their friends.
"Are they in danger?" asked Ser Davos
"The whole North is in danger"
"You sure you don't want to go back?"
"How much help can a cripple be?"
Grief flashed in Bran's dark eyes for a moment, reminding Davos that despite Bran's power and role as King he'd once been a boy who dreamed of being a knight. The things the three-eyed raven could do and see were as exciting as they were unnerving - but were they worth the cost? Bran often said he lost the ability to use his legs so he could fly, but more than once Davos had wondered if Bran would make the switch the other way.
"The North is Sansa's responsibility" said Bran "I'm sure there's plenty of work to be done here too"
"There is your Grace. We need to get the castle ready for the other lords to swear fealty to Pod. Can't have them doing that while there's lion banners everywhere"
The King glanced around his chambers as if only just noticing them "There's rather a lot of red and gold in here"
"Don't remind me"
Preparing the castle meant replacing the Lannister sigil with the sigil of house Payne - an undertaking that was progressing slowly. While Bronn was perfectly happy tearing down lion banners and removing anything with a Lannister sigil, Pod was far more reluctant. Despite Tyrion choosing him as lord of Casterly Rock, Podrick seemed convinced replacing the Lannister sigil with his own was disrespectful. While Bronn and Pod bickered over their methods of preparing Casterly Rock, Brienne had taken to wandering the castle as if searching for Jamie Lannister's ghost. The only one that wasn't giving him a headache was Meera Reed but in some ways she was as unnerving as Bran.
"I should probably see how the work is progressing" said Bran, though he didn't look thrilled at the prospect
Ser Davos offered the King a smile, sinking further into his chair "Better to hide in here your Grace and wait out the storm"
Arya awkwardly patted Tyrion's back as he threw up once again.
"Get it all out" she encouraged "can't be much left now"
Tyrion heaved next to her, hanging his head low over the pile of vomit. Purging the nightshade from him was never going to be pleasant but Arya hadn't quite anticipated how much vomit one small man could produce. Even Lyon had backed off when it began. Glancing over her shoulder she saw the golden wolf patrolling the boundary line she'd insisted on when they made camp. Getting off the Kings Road and helping Tyrion had quickly overridden Sansa's orders and Alec had ceded to her command. While the guards had set up a camp hidden by the rough Northern landscape, Arya had tended to Tyrion.
"Ugh" groaned Tyrion, shifting from his knees to sit beside her on the frosty ground. Patches of snow covered the ground but it was clearer than ever Spring was on its way.
The lord of Winterfell still didn't look well. His face was pale and he was trembling where he sat. Arya had no desire to speak to Alec and the guards right now, but she had demanded the details of what they'd given Tyrion.
"Nightshade" Alec had said, confirming what she already knew "the Queen ordered us to keep you both asleep and Maester Wolkan gave us the nightshade and instructions on using it. Tyrion was stirring so we gave him a little more - too much apparently"
Idiots. Sansa's plan might have worked if the Maester had been here to keep administering the doses, but the guards lacked the education and training to do so safely. It wasn't hard to imagine the doses being incorrectly timed or slight variations in the quantity. They were damned lucky she and Lyon had woken up early enough to help Tyrion. Her time with the faceless men had taught Arya much about poisons, and allowed her to build some resistance to it. However much she'd been given hadn't been enough to keep her asleep as long as expected while Tyrion had been given a dangerous amount.
Arya cast a quick glance over her shoulder to see the three guards sat around the fire while Lyon continued prowling back and forth along her makeshift boundary. She and Tyrion had their backs to the camp but Arya thought it was better this way. She would be less tempted to unleash her anger on the guards and she could plan with Tyrion - if he stopped staring at the pile of vomit.
"She sent me away" he whispered
Arya winced, draping her arm around his shoulders "I know brother"
"She promised" he said, his voice breaking "so many times she told me I'd never be sent away no matter what"
Tyrion dropped his head away from her, wiping quickly at his eyes. There was nothing to say that would make this better. They'd spent weeks and weeks convincing Tyrion that Winterfell was his home and they were his family, and in a single act Sansa had set fire to everything she'd built with him.
Arya turned to the pile that contained their few possessions. The cart had been padded with thick blankets and pillows, and their weapons had been placed next to each of them. Arya had her valyrian steel dagger and needle, while Tyrion's sword and the dagger Bronn gave him had been beside him. Presumably Sansa hadn't wanted to leave them unarmed, but it was a pointless action if they were supposed to be kept asleep for their journey. Her eyes moved past the weapons to the letters that had also been in the cart. There was one for each of them, with their names written in Sansa's familiar handwriting.
"Here" said Arya, handing Tyrion his weapons
He paused as he accepted them, brushing his thumb over the wolf side of his sword's pommel. Tyrion was trying to hide it but the pain in his eyes was tearing at Arya's heart, and adding to the fury she would unleash on Sansa. It was tempting to get rid of the letters and with them whatever reasons Sansa thought were good enough to exile her family from their home. There was no reason that could possibly be good enough.
Arya sighed lifting both of the letters and handing Tyrion his. It wasn't her decision to make, and it was better to know what exactly was going through Sansa's mind. Reading it when angry wouldn't lead to anything good though. Arya folded her letter, hiding it away in her clothes before turning her attention back to Tyrion.
His face was twisted in grief as he stared at his name, but he made no move to open it either.
"Why would she do this?" he murmured
"To protect us I imagine" said Arya "Gods forbid we make our own decisions"
Tyrion sniffed, wiping at his eyes again as he stared at the letter. Reading whatever Sansa had written to them would be the logical thing to do but the sense of betrayal was just too difficult to overcome so soon. It didn't take much intelligence to figure out the basics; that Sansa's fear of Robin Flint and his rebellion had driven her decisions was obvious.
Arya had told Tyrion several times there were no lone wolves in their pack, but it appeared Sansa was the one in need of the lesson.
'When the snows fall and the white winds blows, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives'
The familiar words drifted through Arya, but they lacked their usual conviction and sounded hollow. Both Bran and Sansa had made it clear they didn't want to be part of the pack. Both thought they knew best and would only do things their way. Both of them had to be in control to varying degrees. Arya's hand curled around the handle of Needle as anger reared its ugly head once again. There was no point pretending; the Stark pack had died when they left Winterfell all those years ago.
"Um, lady Arya"
Cayn's voice drew her from her increasingly negative thoughts. She cast a quick glance at Tyrion staring at his name on the letter, before turning to see Cayn standing at the boundary line with Lyon glaring up at him. He held out some food as if it was a peace offering.
"Brice cooked rabbit" he said
Arya snorted "As if we'd trust anything you gave us"
His face fell "There's no nightshade in it I swear"
"I don't believe that"
Cayn lowered his arms, moving his focus to the back of Tyrion.
"Are you better now Tyrion?" he asked, garnering no response "Do you need anything?"
Tyrion didn't answer, or give any sign he'd even heard. His face was fixed in a deep frown and the distance in his eyes told Arya his mind was miles away.
"I'm really sorry Tyrion" tried Cayn "it was the Queen's orders. She told us to take you all south and keep you asleep until we got there"
"You would have kept giving us nightshade for weeks" snapped Arya
"Maester Wolkan told us the doses" he said, fidgeting on the spot "it was hard to judge though. We thought Tyrion was starting to wake up so we gave him a bit more"
"And you nearly killed him, well done"
The young man's face crumpled, reluctantly turning away from them "I'm sorry...there's food if you want some"
He'd taken a few steps before Tyrion called out to him "Cayn"
He turned back, wariness spread across his face.
"Where were you taking us?" asked Tyrion, still not turning to face him
"South. Queen Sansa said when we made it out of the North to let you wake up and decide where to go"
How thoughtful of Sansa to give them a choice after forcing them from their home.
"Why did she send us away?" asked Tyrion
Cayn hesitated before answering, glancing over his shoulder at Alec and Brice sat around the fire "You should ask Alec"
"I'm asking you" said Tyrion "Why did Sansa decide to send us south?"
"Alec knows the details" said Cayn, lowering his head "I only know the Queen made the decision after she got some letters"
Tyrion's voice was unnaturally empty as he spoke "What did the letters say?"
Cayn hung his head in defeat "They were threats against the Queen. They said the Unsullied were coming"
Ice crept through Arya at the words, though it was quickly melted by fury. Why wouldn't Sansa tell them that? They were family, they could help. Did her sister really think they couldn't face the Unsullied?
Arya moved to a crouch, gripping Tyrion's shoulder "Come on. Sansa apparently needs some sense slapping into her and it'll take a couple of days to get back to Winterfell"
"No" said Tyrion, brushing his thumb over his name on the letter "we can't go back to Winterfell"
"Sansa's not in her right mind" she said, softening her tone "we need to go home brother"
Tyrion shook his head, slowly moving to his feet. He was pale and unsteady as he stood, clutching his letter in one hand and his weapons in the other. Cayn was watching them nervously from the boundary line, glancing back at the older guards across the camp area.
Arya stood as well, taking in Tyrion's empty expression that was betrayed by his pain filled eyes.
"We can't go back to Winterfell" he said, staggering towards the fire Alec and Brice sat around
Lyon immediately fell in beside him and Cayn seemed just as eager to follow. Watching Tyrion walk towards the guards Arya hoped her sister realized exactly what she'd done. In her desperate desire to protect them Sansa had lost them, and hurt the one who loved her the most.
It was hard to tell which was worse; the mornings when she woke up alone or the evenings when the emptiness of Winterfell threatened to swallow her. Sansa sank deeper into her armchair, tugging Tyrion's lion blanket tighter around her. Sleeping in the bed was out of the question. In the two days Tyrion had been gone their chambers had become more of a crypt than a room - and in every inch of it she saw the ghosts of the life that had been hers only days earlier.
More than once she was certain she'd glimpsed Tyrion sat in his armchair across from her, with a book in his hands and a glint of humour in his eyes. Her heart would leap every time, only to plunge deeper than ever at each false sighting. The Queen stifled a yawn, willing herself to go to sleep. No matter how tired she became sleep was near impossible.
During the day she went about her duties as Queen, keeping her mask of ice in place as she heard petitions. There'd been questions of course, particularly when she appeared at what should have been Tyrion's court session. Where was the lord of Winterfell? The question had been written all over their faces, much as it had the servants when she requested breakfast for one. Only Nessa had been brave enough to ask.
"Queen Sansa, where's Tyrion?" she'd asked, standing awkwardly in the doorway. Of course she would wonder. Nessa spent much of her day with Tyrion, and came every morning to take Lyon out to hunt.
Sansa had forced a smile, hoping to reassure the girl "I had to send him away on urgent business. Lyon and Arya have gone with him. He's sorry he didn't have chance to say goodbye, but it was very important he left straight away"
The girl twisted her hands through her scraggy hair "When is he coming back?"
"I'm not sure" Sansa had said, her eyes burning with unshed tears "He could be gone for a while"
Sansa's already exhausted heart lurched at the memory of the conversation. Nessa's face had crumpled at the news and the girl had whispered her thanks before shooting off back down the corridor. It wasn't just Nessa; the whole castle had lost its heart without Tyrion. He was a popular lord and Sansa knew only too well the servants and small folk preferred him to her. Without Tyrion at her side she was nothing more than the Queen of ice. His natural warmth had softened her icy image and humanized her to many people - without him she was a monarch to be feared.
"I miss you" she whispered, burying her face in his blanket "I miss all of you"
The Queen closed her eyes, determined to get some sleep. There was still some time before the end, and until that time came she had duties to attend to. Perhaps, if she was lucky, she might dream of a little lion with golden hair and soft green eyes rather than the blood-soaked nightmares that usually haunted her. Sansa tried to force away all the fear and worry that clung to her night and day, instead pulling the image of her husband's smiling face to mind. Everything was better when Tyrion was with her.
Tyrion hadn't noticed the tears until they blurred his vision. They ran from his eyes without any obvious beginning or end, as if they'd always been there.
Lyon was snoring against his back and Arya was somewhere on the other side of the wolf. He doubted she was truly asleep, but he appreciated her pretending none the less. The glow of the camp fire was just enough to illuminate the letter written in Sansa's delicate hand and Arya's silence was the best privacy he could hope for as his heart broke.
To my dearest Tyrion,
There are so many things I wanted to tell you in this letter. From all the ways you're wonderful to how you've made me happier than I ever dreamed possible. It was only in writing this letter I realised how impossible it would be. There are no words to describe what you mean to me and not enough time in the world to list how much. In the end, perhaps the simplest words are the truest.
I love you.
It's impossible to pinpoint exactly when I realised it, but I know I felt it every morning I got to wake up next to you. I felt in every conversation we had; in all the time we spent reading, playing cyvasse and enjoying each other. Most of all, I felt that love in every single moment we got to spend together. I adore every inch of you my love, from your curly golden hair to your warm green eyes that always reminded me I was safe. You might not see the truth about yourself but I do, and I see a man of honour. I see a kind, loving husband and a strong, fair lord. You are so much more than people see and far more than I ever deserved.
That's why I had to send you away. I am so sorry my love, but I won't let my mistakes be your death sentence. I have a duty as Queen in the North but my duty to my family is far more important - and my duty to you outweighs everything. My sweet, kind lion. The only way I can face what comes next is by knowing you're safe.
By the time you read this letter the situation in the North will be decided and it won't be safe for you or Arya or Lyon anymore. I've sent a letter to Bran asking him to pardon you. Go to Bran, go to Podrick or Bronn. Go with Arya and find what's west of Westeros. Whatever you choose to do, promise you'll keep going. You have so much to give Tyrion, and more than anything I want you to find happiness again; you deserve it more than anyone.
Please believe me when I tell you I never wanted it to come to this. I looked at every possible scenario and this was the only one that kept you safe, that kept you away from the danger that's coming.
I promised you forever, and I never anticipated it would come so soon. No matter what stories or rumours you hear from the North, I want you to know I'll always be yours and that no title ever made me happier than being called your wife.
Wherever you go and whatever you do my heart will always be with you. I love you more than anything Tyrion, and that will never change, no matter how far apart we are.
Goodbye my love,
Sansa
Tyrion bit down on his lip, trying to stifle the sobs that wracked his body. Part of him didn't want to alert the others to his distress and part of him didn't care if they knew. He'd known there was something bothering Sansa all week, but he'd never expected her to take such extreme measures. They were family. He was her husband - they could have faced this together. Instead he'd been sent south. Stripped away from the home and family he'd come to rely on and sent away to start again - as if that was even possible.
If not for the guards bumbling he would have woken up in the six kingdoms as a homeless widow, with only Arya, Lyon, his weapons and a letter. It would have been too late to change anything, it still could be.
Night had fallen as they'd eaten dinner, and no attempts from Brice or Cayn had sparked a conversation. Alec seemed to have understood the need for silence at least. Arya had reluctantly joined him around the camp fire, making sure he ate something and was warm enough. The divide in camp had been very clear though, and no-one had brought up what would happen next. Lyon had tried to lift his mood to no avail, while had Arya prepared a place for them to sleep and made certain the guards knew exactly how far away they should stay from it. She'd acquired the heaviest blankets for them and set up a sleeping area near the fire to keep the cold Northern winds at bay.
"There's no need to decide anything right now" she'd told him "we'll figure this all out tomorrow"
He'd nodded his assent as they settled down to sleep, but Tyrion knew his mind won't have changed in the morning. Arya wanted to go straight back to Winterfell but that simply wasn't an option, and reading Sansa's letter had only confirmed that.
For the first time in months Tyrion felt truly alone. Arya and Lyon were with him, and he loved them both dearly - but they couldn't fill the hollowness that had enveloped him. Over the time he'd spent in the North he'd come to appreciate its beauty and respect the people who called it home, but now the vast landscape only emphasized how lost he was. It would be so easy to simply wander off and disappear. There was no part of Tyrion that wanted to return to the six Kingdoms of Westeros, let alone try and rebuild a life there.
'She doesn't want you anymore' hissed the dark voice in your mind 'you knew this would happen. Nobody could ever want you'
The thin shield he'd built up these past months cracked and shuddered as doubt slipped through. Sansa had sent him away, but the letter in his hands and the whispers in his mind told him entirely different reasons why.
Tyrion folded the letter into a neat square, tucking it safely into the pocket of his tunic. He wiped at his damp face and the tears that refused to stop falling. It didn't matter what the letter said, or what his mind told him. There was no chance he was leaving the North. He'd been banished here and he would die here. Returning to Winterfell wasn't an option, but there was still one course of action left.
Tomorrow he would go to White Harbour, but tonight he would allow himself to cry. The real work would begin at sunrise and if he wanted to win he needed his mind to be every bit as sharp as he'd once believed it was.
"What do you think?" asked Pod, glancing between her face and the new banners hanging in the hall of Casterly Rock
Brienne had been somewhat embarrassed to realise she didn't know the sigil of house Payne. It just wasn't something that had ever come up in conversation with Podrick. It would take time to completely cleanse the castle of the Lannister red and gold, but the purple and white check of house Payne had gradually began to creep into the castle's decoration. She moved her eyes to the banners placed behind a plain, high backed chair in the great hall. The gold coins stood out sharply against the purple and white check, and compared to the red and gold that had greeted them on arrival Brienne thought it was a marked improvement.
"It looks good" she said "brightens the room up nicely"
"You don't think it's too much?"
Compared to when they'd first arrived the hall was sparse. All of the lion decorations had been removed and all trace of the Lannisters was gradually fading from the castle.
Brienne shook her head "It seems fine to me. Clean and simple"
"It still seems wrong"
"Whatever needs changing can be done" she said "you want this to be right before the other houses come before you"
"That's not what I mean" said Pod, fiddling with the sword at his hip "Removing all of the lion banners and replacing it with my own; I feel like I'm disrespecting lord Tyrion"
Brienne chewed her lip, considering how to approach this. It hadn't taken long to realise Pod was reluctant to make his mark on Casterly Rock and it was easy to see why. Of all the castles Brienne had seen there was nothing quite like Casterly Rock. It was immense - carved out of a stone hill beside the sea. Passing through the lion's mouth on the way in had been intimidating to say the least. Inside the castle was a seemingly endless maze of corridors and levels, and nothing had prepared Brienne for the thunderous sound deep below the Rock where the sea came in. Lord of Casterly Rock was an imposing title to hold, but it was only in seeing the castle you understood what it meant.
"If lord Tyrion was here what would he say?" she asked
Pod's face scrunched in thought for a moment before his shoulders slumped "He'd tell me to make it my own"
"There you go then. Lord Tyrion chose you for this Pod - he refused Bran's offer of reclaiming his land and titles. This is your castle to change how you like"
"You're right" he said, offering her a smile "Thank you"
Brienne found her own mouth turning upwards "You'll be a great lord Pod, trust yourself more"
The new lord's smile widened as he turned his attention to the newly acquired servants bustling around the hall. Although Casterly Rock had fallen to Daenerys Targaryen when she came to Westeros it had been a wasted victory, and one she'd soon abandoned. While the Dragon Queen had taken her forces North to aid in the Long Night, Cersei had reclaimed her family home. Whatever dragon banners had been hung in the castle wouldn't have lasted long before the lion ruled again.
"There's still a lot to do" said Pod
"I've every confidence you can handle it"
Pod turned to her, his eyes brightening "I'm glad you're here"
Her throat tightened at the words. In truth she'd been distant since they arrived - the idea that Podrick wouldn't be continuing on with them to Kings Landing was difficult to accept. Yet when he'd knocked on her door earlier and asked for her company she could hardly refuse him. Pod's face was worn and tired, the burden of his new role settling heavily over him and she'd left him alone to bear it. Brienne silently cursed herself. At Winterfell she'd told herself to make the most of the time she had left with Pod, and instead she'd spent her time at Casterly Rock alone - mourning the loss of a friend before it happened.
She laid a hand on his shoulder, hoping it conveyed more than her words "I'm glad I'm here too"
Arya made a habit of sleeping lightly, but whether it was genuine tiredness or some residual nightshade in her system she'd fallen asleep deeply enough that it was only Tyrion's insistent shaking of her that roused her from sleep.
"Arya" he called, as her eyes snapped open
Her trained response kicked in immediately and she was instantly alert. A weapon could be in her hands in seconds, but in the same time frame she assessed the situation and who was standing over her.
Tyrion's face was pale and drawn, with his usually bright eyes rimmed in red as he gazed down at her.
"Sorry to wake you" he said, stepping back as she sat up "but it's time for a conversation"
It didn't take long to assemble the guards around the fire. Much to Arya's annoyance she was the last to wake. Even Lyon was awake, sitting dutifully at his master's feet as the meeting began. While Arya had yet to read her letter she knew Tyrion had read his last night. Listening to his heart break had been horrible but she'd restrained herself from offering him any comfort. The letter was personal and so was his reaction - besides, they both knew whose comfort he really wanted.
"Are you feeling better Tyrion?" asked Cayn
"I'm fine" he said flatly, focusing his gaze on Alec instead "I understand you acted under the Queen's orders. She wanted us to go south and be kept asleep until we got there. I bear you no ill will for doing your duty to the Queen, but I will not be leaving the North"
"Me neither" added Arya
"It was the Queen's orders" said Alec "none of us liked it, and I'm sorry about the nightshade. Whatever you think of us Tyrion, we are your friends and never wanted to hurt you"
"That doesn't matter now" said Tyrion, his eyes turning downcast
It did matter, the hurt in Tyrion's voice was unmistakable, no matter how much he tried to hide it.
"We need to go back to Winterfell" said Arya, nudging Tyrion "Sansa thinks she knows best but she doesn't. Whether Robin has Unsullied with him or not we'll be there"
"We can't go back" said Tyrion
"I know you're hurting brother, but when the battle comes we can't leave Sansa alone, no matter how stupid she is"
Tyrion shook his head, saying quietly "There will be no battle"
Arya's brow furrowed "You don't think Robin will march?"
"He will march on Winterfell, and Sansa will surrender her crown" said Tyrion, his face twisting in pain "Arya, she didn't send us away to protect us from battle, she sent us away because there will be no battle"
The words washed over Arya like ice. She considered herself fairly intelligent in many areas, but politics wasn't something she had much interest in. Tyrion and Sansa were far better at that particular game.
She swallowed thickly "What, exactly, do you mean?"
"Sansa hasn't called any of her banners. She will not risk Northern lives in a fight for the crown, so instead she will surrender"
No, that couldn't be true.
"She told you this in the letter?" asked Arya
Tyrion shook his head "She didn't have to"
One look at Tyrion told Arya he completely believed what he'd said, but there had to be a mistake. Tyrion was upset, and he hadn't been well yesterday. Sansa was a wolf; she would never surrender to the enemy. Arya tore her eyes from Tyrion to the three guards opposite. Brice and Cayn wouldn't meet her gaze but Alec would, and the truth stared back at her with a grim expression.
"You knew this" she demanded of the Winterfell captain "you all knew, and you were just going along with it?"
"Lady Arya, the Queen's mind couldn't be changed...believe me I tried"
"You would let Sansa die" she said, throwing the accusation at him
Alec's face hardened "Not willingly, but her mind is made up. She charged me to see you and Tyrion safely south, and I followed my Queen's orders"
"Are you going to follow them now?" she challenged
"I should" said Alec, a grimace crossing his face "Honour demands I follow my Queen's orders, but I won't. Whatever I think of the Queen's plan it makes no difference now, not unless you and Tyrion decide to co-operate"
There was no chance of that happening. Sansa had planned to send them south in the manner she did because she surely knew they wouldn't go otherwise. As soon as they woke up any hope of Alec fulfilling his orders had disappeared, and they both knew it. Just because Alec and the guards seemed resigned to that fact didn't mean she would trust them.
"If not for Arya waking up it would have been too late" murmured Tyrion, drawing her attention "The letter from Sansa...it said the situation in the North will be decided by the time I read it"
"The Queen was getting letters from Robin" said Alec "I didn't see them, but she sounded certain he was readying an attack. She left it as long as possible before sending you south"
"When will he arrive?" demanded Arya, her hand twisting around the handle of her dagger
It was Tyrion who answered "About ten days if I had to guess. If all had gone to plan we'd have been south of the Neck by then"
"Tyrion, we need to go home" said Arya
"We can't" he said again
Arya bit her tongue, holding back the questions she was desperate to ask. As far as she was concerned going back to Winterfell and slapping Sansa for being so bloody stupid was the best course of action, but Tyrion seemed convinced otherwise. Part of her wanted to demand his reasons, but the look in his eyes stopped her. Tyrion might have buried last night's heart ache deep inside him, but it wasn't deep enough to not still hurt him. His pain hung over him like a dark cloud and weighed down every word he spoke. Arya had little time for the political game of thrones, but it was a game Tyrion knew well. She could demand to know his reasons for not returning to Winterfell and refuse to let him move until she was satisfied - or she could trust her brother.
He was part of the pack too, and he loved Sansa more than anything. If Tyrion wouldn't return to Winterfell there had to be reason. Arya drew in a breath, forcing her mind to calm down.
"Where should we go then?" she asked
"White Harbour" said Tyrion, winding his fingers through Lyon's fur
The guards seemed just as confused as Arya felt. She trusted Tyrion, but she couldn't resist asking the question.
"Why there?"
Tyrion's eyes seemed miles away as he answered, staring distantly at the flickering fire "If Sansa won't call the banners, we'll have to call them for her"
'Did I do the right thing?'
The thought had plagued Sansa every day since sending her family south, and every day she was forced to remind herself there was no other choice. Knowing she'd done the only thing she could didn't make it any easier to accept. There wasn't a part of the castle that didn't remind her of her family. Whether it was a shadowy corner that could have once concealed Arya or the empty pile of blankets where Lyon had slept, the memory of her family was woven into every part of Winterfell - but none more so than Tyrion.
Sansa wasn't deaf to the whispers that flew around the castle, all wondering where the lord of Winterfell had gone. Holding court earlier had been torturous with Tyrion's black and gold banners hanging in the hall. Sansa had done her best to not look at the golden lion sigil, but it was all she could do to control her turmoil until she could escape to the relative peace of the Godswood.
The Queen leaned against the heart tree, hoping she might feel some meagre connection to her parents. More than ever she wanted their guidance and calming influence. It was her mistakes as Queen that had allowed Robin to manipulate her and she alone would pay the price. No matter how much she thought she'd changed, thought herself a player in the game - in the end she was still the stupid, naïve girl she'd once been.
"I'm sorry" she whispered, brushing her fingers over the rough wood of the tree "I'm glad you're not here to see this father, you'd be so disappointed in me"
How could her parents not be ashamed to see all the terrible mistakes their eldest daughter had made? She hadn't been raised to rule, but she had been taught honour and respect. Her treatment of Tyrion to the way she'd hid from the small folk had betrayed the values she'd been taught as a child.
"Whatever you think of me, please look after the rest of our family" she said, her throat tightening "I doubt you'd have ever chosen Tyrion for me, but I love him more than I ever thought I could love someone. He's part of our family, and I hope wherever you are you can accept that. Please…watch over him for me"
Sansa had long ago given up on prayer but the stillness of the Godswood was soothing nonetheless. Winterfell was so empty now, but in the Godswood Sansa could at least feel close to her departed family. If nothing else it took her mind from what was coming. She had scouts further North, and the first letter had arrived today, confirming her worst fears. Robin would descend on Winterfell with an army in less than a fortnight, and her reign would reach its end.
Every lurch of the cart threatened to unleash the contents of Tyrion's stomach.
"You look awful" commented Arya
"I'm fine" he said, wrapping his arms around himself and trying to ignore the rolling in his stomach. Whatever Arya had given him to purge the nightshade was still lingering in his system. He was weak, shaky and after a night of limited sleep his head was throbbing too. It wasn't a surprise he looked awful, it was a surprise he wasn't dead.
"You should sleep" said Arya "I'll keep an eye on the guards"
"No, I'm fine, really"
Arya shrugged and Tyrion's heart cracked a little; Sansa would insist he rest. As soon as the thought crossed his mind Tyrion forced it to one side. It wasn't fair to compare Arya to Sansa just because he missed his wife. Unfortunately everything reminded him of her, or more accurately, reminded him something was missing. If Sansa was here she'd be fussing over him - insisting he eat and rest. He could almost imagine the concern in her blue eyes as she brushed her hand against his face.
No.
Tyrion wrenched his mind away from the image, but not quickly enough to stop the pain of loss rippling through him. Sansa wasn't here, and wishing she was wouldn't change anything. Besides she was the one who'd sent him away in the first place - as if he'd so easily accept the loss of her life in exchange for his own.
Arya's grey eyes studied him from beneath the hood she wore, and they were full of a pity she mercifully didn't voice. As if sensing his distress Lyon shifted beneath the pile of blankets, until his fluffy golden head poked out to lick his fingers.
"Keep your head down" murmured Tyrion, though he gratefully stroked his friend's soft fur
Travelling in the cart was the easiest solution but neither he nor Arya had any intention of going under the tarp again. Alec had told them Sansa's plan to send them south wasn't public knowledge, and it wouldn't do to have whispers they'd been sighted brought to the Queen's attention - they were supposed to be kept hidden after all. To that end Tyrion and Arya had disguised themselves beneath heavy blankets and cloaks while Lyon was also hiding beneath a pile of pillows and blankets. Alec was in the lead with his horse pulling the cart, and Brice and Cayn were spread out loosely around them on their own horses. It was obvious enough the guards felt guilty for following the Queen's orders, but Tyrion found he had little interest in speaking to them either.
"How long until we reach Castle Cerwyn?" asked Tyrion
"About half a day" said Arya "What's the plan from there?"
"That depends on how much Cley is willing to help" said Tyrion "Either way reaching White Harbour as quickly as possible is the priority"
According to Alec they were already a day's ride past Castle Cerwyn when they had to stop, and retracing their steps to the castle had certainly caused confusion when Tyrion gave the order. But it was also the quickest way to White Harbour. Reaching White Harbour on horse would take nearly a week from where they were and it left them almost no time to mobilise reinforcements to Winterfell. Sailing down the White Knife River was the only option given the limited time frame, and retracing their steps to Castle Cerwyn was the only way to acquire a ship.
"You alright back there?" called Alec
Tyrion nodded and Arya shouted back "We're fine"
Alec said nothing else, merely urging the horse onwards. He didn't offer to stop for a break and Tyrion would have refused if he had. There simply wasn't time. Not when Robin was bringing an army to Winterfell. Not when Sansa's life would be forfeit if they failed.
"At least they weren't a problem" murmured Arya, tilting her head in Alec's direction
"It makes thing easier" agreed Tyrion
Truthfully Tyrion had expected the guards to try and stop him, whether they were friends or not. They were Northerners and they'd given Sansa their word. Despite the sense of betrayal Tyrion couldn't quite shake, he wouldn't have asked the men to commit treason on his behalf.
"We'll need one of your horses" Tyrion had said "but you can keep that damned cart. The only thing I ask is you don't tell Sansa where we're heading when you return to Winterfell. Tell her we escaped, tell her I threatened to let Lyon kill you - I don't particularly care which"
"Winterfell? We're going with you" Cayn had said, looking to Brice and Alec for confirmation
The older guards had shared a look but nodded in agreement with Cayn.
"We'll go with ya Lannister" Brice had said "This whole plan was bloody stupid if you ask me"
"Helping me is treason, Sansa could take all our heads for disobeying her orders" Tyrion had warned
Alec had shook his head, locking eyes with Tyrion "I didn't like the Queen's orders but I followed them. If I can't take you to safety like she wanted the least I can do is help you"
Tyrion had offered only a little resistance before accepting their presence. While their help wasn't exactly essential to his goal it could well make things easier - particularly if they ran into trouble. Arya was an excellent fighter but Tyrion knew he was passable at best. His only real gift was his mind and he'd lost faith in that over his time as hand to Daenerys. Using his mind was the only way his plan would work but it was near impossible when he second-guessed every decision. He'd made so many mistakes, and so many lives had been lost because of it. If he failed this time the cost would be so much higher. The North would be ruled by a vicious, manipulative King - and he'd suffer a loss he couldn't bear to face.
"Your Grace I must caution you against this course of action"
Sansa pursed her lips, waiting for the old Maester to continue.
"In all that we've seen of Robin Flint there is nothing to suggest he has even a shred of honour. By willingly offering your life the North has everything to lose and very little to gain"
Did the Maester think she hadn't considered that possibility? She'd looked over everything she could possibly do and this was the solution with the best chance of success - the way that would hopefully leave no more bodies on the ground than her own.
The days had stretched on in an endless fashion since her family left, but each day brought Robin closer and that meant preparations had to be made - however unpleasant. She'd invited Wolkan to her chambers to discuss the details privately, and in the hopes his presence might give the room a flicker of life once more.
"I understand your concerns" said Sansa, folding her hands on the desk in front of her "but a peaceful transition is in Robin's interests too. The Northerners won't accept a King who killed innocents. If the only death is mine it's a price worth paying"
"My Queen, that you are willing to make such a sacrifice is proof enough you are the rightful Queen in the North. Robin Flint's crimes are numerous and his every action self-serving. I beg you to reconsider your Grace - do not allow him to become King"
Sansa stomach rolled, her face tightening. There was truth in the Maester's words. Robin had started a slavery business under her nose, kidnapped and tortured her husband and been undermining her reign from the start. He deserved to die like Gawan, not to rule as King. Yet, what other options were there?
'Fight, little dove' urged Cersei 'Show the pretender what real power looks like'
The dead Queen's voice whispered in Sansa's ear once again, urging her to match violence with violence regardless of the cost. Cersei Lannister had refused to surrender when faced with the dragon Queen and her army, and it had ended in a massacre. Whatever mistakes Sansa had made, she wouldn't make that one. She wouldn't risk the lives of Northerners in a losing battle. The full might of the North may have crushed Robin's rebellion, but she couldn't trust some wouldn't turn their cloaks to Robin and slaughter her own forces and turn on the villages near Winterfell. Calling the banners she trusted fully would only lead to the same fate. Surrendering herself was the only way. She alone would pay the price for her mistakes and hopefully shield the North in her death.
"My mind is made up" said Sansa, watching the old man's face fall "When Robin reaches the Dreadfort I want a garrison of men in place with a letter outlining my terms for surrender. Within the document I will place terms that must be agreed to and should ensure no further blood is spilled. If Robin wishes to be King he should have no interest in killing those he would rule - I will ensure the safety of yourself and the servants too"
He inclined his head in respect, but his face looked even wearier when he lifted it again "As you say"
For all Sansa's planning there was so much that could go wrong with her plan. There was no real way to make Robin agree to any terms she presented. Her plan hinged on the idea he wouldn't want to spill more blood than necessary and risk invoking the wrath of the Northern houses. Sansa knew her decision would horrify many of them - Robin would be a hated King - but the letters Wolkan had prepared would be sent across the North just before the time came, and it would explain her decision as well as possible. The North was finally independent - the last thing she wanted was for it to descend into civil war.
"I'm not sure what to say" said Cley, glancing between them
Arya could understand that. While the young lord had been surprised enough to find them at his castle gates she doubted he'd expected the news they brought.
"You're certain of this?" asked Cley
Tyrion nodded beside her "Sansa intends to die in the hopes it will prevent a war"
"There's no way of knowing that" said Cley, his usually calm face hardening "I won't bend the knee to Robin Flint"
"Good" said Arya "The rest of the North won't just accept Robin as King either"
"That doesn't matter. If there is a smooth transition of power Sansa is assuming the Northerners will be less inclined to go to war. I don't know for certain but I assume Sansa will be preparing letters to send across the North" said Tyrion, lowering his eyes to the table "She will have thought of everything to minimise the danger to the North, and protected every life but her own"
Cley pulled his gaze from Tyrion to her, his eyes full of questions. Arya could only shrug. It was Tyrion who had figured out Sansa's plan, and as far as she was concerned it made sense - that didn't mean she understood how he'd worked it out. She was increasingly aware they were now playing the game of thrones and unlike Tyrion and Sansa she didn't want to understand how it was played. Sansa had planned everything to the last detail and no-one was better placed than Tyrion to unravel it. Though setting his mind to such a task was taking its toll on him. He looked utterly exhausted and had barely spoken on the way here. Cley had been surprised to see them but instantly offered them the hospitality of the castle - something Tyrion had refused.
"There isn't time" he'd said "We need to reach White Harbour as quickly as possible"
Cley had hesitated only a moment before nodding "Then I'll have my men prepare a ship for you, but it will take a couple of hours"
While they were waiting Cley had arranged for food and took them into a private room to talk. The guards had eaten quickly and Alec had disappeared with Cley's captain of the guards to make the necessary travel arrangements, leaving Tyrion and Arya to explain the situation to the young lord.
"The Queen tried to send you south, because she intends to surrender to Robin Flint" summarised Cley "Why not call the banners? My house would have rode to her aid, as would lady Tallhart"
"Sansa trusts you, lady Tallhart and a couple of other houses" said Tyrion "but to truly defeat Robin she needs the rest of the North, and Sansa fears they'll turn their cloaks to Robin as house Locke did"
A shadow passed over Cley's face "I lost good men because of that ambush"
"Robin is acting with the support of house Locke and men recruited from across the North, as well as an army of sellswords and supposedly the Unsullied" said Tyrion "Sansa does not want to risk the people in battle, but Robin cannot be allowed to succeed"
Silence fell over the table as Cley tried to process all he'd heard. It sounded ridiculous - what kind of Queen would surrender to a green boy like Robin? Tyrion was emphasising how Sansa wished to protect the North by her actions, but they both knew the other reason was just as important. The Queen was too afraid of betrayal to trust those who served her, and somehow it had fallen to them to rally the North.
Arya rubbed at her face, letting out a breath. It was true Sansa had suffered horrendously over the years, but she'd done relatively little to help herself move past it. If Arya hadn't woken when she did Sansa's stupid plan would have gone ahead and Tyrion might well have died from the nightshade. How had her life come to this? Why couldn't Sansa and Bran make normal mistakes, rather than life or death situations? Arya would follow Tyrion's lead in fixing her sister's mess but even she could see they were about to explain that Sansa had trust issues to the rest of the North.
"What do we do next then?" asked Cley, straightening in his chair "I can come to White Harbour with you"
"You will help us?" asked Tyrion
"Of course" said Cley "House Cerwyn will not recognise Robin Flint as King. I can gather my forces and be at Winterfell by tomorrow night if you wish"
Tyrion stared at the young lord for a moment before nodding "Thank you lord Cerwyn, but we must proceed with caution. Sansa cannot know what we are doing, and neither can Robin. If we are to crush Robin we need all of the houses we can get, which is why I propose a division of labour. Your house along with lady Tallhart, lord Hornwood and lord Mazin are our staunchest allies and the closest to Winterfell. I have an idea that may allow us the element of surprise but it will need setting in motion from here, if you are willing?"
"Whatever needs to be done, I'll see it is done" promised Cley
"Thank you" said Tyrion "Might I send a raven before we leave?"
"Certainly" said Cley
"We're still going to White Harbour?" asked Arya
Tyrion nodded, turning to face her "Yes, I believe it's time to wake the giants of the North"
Marching was tedious; it was almost as dull as speaking with lord Locke.
"-that should be your first order of business" said lord Locke, his horse trotting alongside Robin's "Get rid of the bloody wildlings once and for all"
Robin's mouth twitched upwards "Certainly my lord. They should have never been allowed to stay on our lands to begin with"
"Aye, its bad enough they didn't piss off beyond the wall with the rest of them but then the so-called Queen invites them further south" grumbled lord Locke
"At the imp's urging no doubt. Gawan and I were trying to get rid of them when Lannister set them free"
The older lord's eyes darkened "I heard of your slavery business, your Grace"
"Not slavery" said Robin, easily meeting the other man's gaze "Gawan and I saw the wildlings for the problem they were and sought only to get rid of them. They refused to go beyond the wall again so we made arrangements to sell them"
"I heard they weren't all wildlings"
The accusation was sharp and to the point, much like lord Locke. In truth Robin had hoped his business with Gawan would never come to light. It had been a way of raising funds that was supposed to operate in the shadows. Gawan would have run it while Robin took the throne - an arrangement that had come to an end when the damned dwarf interfered. The whole of the North knew the rumours of the slavery business him and Gawan had been running and Robin was certain it had cost him support that would have otherwise been his. No Northerner wished to be associated with someone accused of being a slaver. It had taken a lot of work to spin the rumours into something less damaging. As much as Northerners hated slavers, they disliked wildlings just as much - particularly when the Queen had allowed them onto the land near Ramsgate.
"My lord, I don't know what to tell you. They were all wildlings as far as we were concerned"
"There are rumours you were selling girls from Northern villages"
Robin cursed inwardly; he'd warned Gawan to stay out of the villages. He forced a reassuring smile as he answered lord Locke "If any mistakes were made I dare say it was the fault of the girls, as distasteful as it sounds. I fear fanciful whispers of the wildling lifestyle mind have lured some impressionable minds to the Gift and that's how the errors occurred"
Lord Locke was stubborn, but not a particularly thoughtful man. He accepted the lie easily, no doubt adding it to his reasons to dislike the wildlings. Besides, no-one had actually seen the girls being taken from the villages. It was much easier to paint it as the girls had left home to join the wildlings.
"Exactly the problem" said lord Locke "You let their kind remain and they spread their savage ways like a bloody disease. They all need to go!"
Robin hid a smile, nodding his understanding "Agreed my lord. When I rule I'll make certain the wildlings are gone. Perhaps a gift to our sellsword allies?"
The older lord went off on yet another demand for what Robin should do as King but he soon stopped listening. It was unfortunate Gawan had got himself killed. He might have been a mad dog but he was far more interesting company than lord Locke. It wouldn't be much longer anyway. A little over a week and the North would be his. Someone could listen to the other lords complain on his behalf. A King should lead and rule, not become a slave to those beneath him.
Tyrion pulled the hood lower over his face as he moved onto the small deck of the ship. Speed and invisibility were essential to the success of his plan. Cley had offered them the choice of any of the ships at his disposal, though house Cerwyn had almost no naval strength. Castle Cerwyn was fairly close to the White Knife River though, and as such the ships Cley did have were well suited for traversing the river. Alec had chosen a small vessel that would just about fit them all and wouldn't require additional men to sail it. The Cerwyn sail had been replaced with a plain one at Tyrion's request and after several hours at Castle Cerwyn they'd began their journey down the White Knife. It was quicker than travelling on horse but it would still leave very little time when they reached White Harbour. If he'd incorrectly estimated the time frame or Robin moved early...
He clenched his fists, willing the dark thought to leave him be. They would make it in time; he wouldn't fail again. The North swept by as they travelled south, though Tyrion was careful to keep the grey cloak Cley had given him pulled over his head. Sansa couldn't know what was happening. If she discovered his plan she would seek to stop it. Sansa's letter had made it clear this was to be her final act as Queen, and discovering he and Arya were not being transported to the Six Kingdoms would only cause her panic, and prompt her to even more desperate measures.
The letter in his pocket was both soothing and heart-breaking. Sansa had written it as an expression of love, no doubt trying to make sure he knew exactly how she felt about him. Yet all he could think about was what it didn't say. Things had gotten better between them - little by little they'd grown more open around each other. Or so he'd thought. When confronted with threats from Robin she hadn't turned to him for help. Instead she'd packed him off to start over again and decided she'd rather sacrifice her own life than risk a betrayal from the houses that were supposed to support her.
'I could have helped you' he thought, tears burning at the back of his eyes once more 'My sweet wife. How scared must you be to take such drastic action?'
He wanted to be angry; part of him was. However much he wanted to be furious with Sansa, a larger part of him was angry with himself. What had he done to make Sansa think she couldn't trust him with this? He'd known something was bothering Sansa in the week following Gawan's death, but he'd woefully underestimated what it was. He knew Sansa struggled to trust people, he just hadn't thought he was one of them.
"You're not alone Sansa" he whispered, his words carried away in the cool Northern breeze
Tyrion swallowed down his own hurt and insecurities, burying them deep inside. The letter in his pocket and the memory of Sansa's tear stained face would not be all that remained of his wife.
Robin Flint would die, and all hints of rebellion would be crushed.
He wouldn't rest until Sansa was safe and the North was secure. Then, if Sansa wanted him to leave...he would go without question.
"Lady Arya, do you think Tyrion's hungry?"
She turned to the source of the voice, finding Cayn's sad face pleading with her.
"He'll eat when he wants" she shrugged
The ship Cley had given them was a small sailing boat, ideal for travelling along the White Knife and small enough to not draw attention. While the ship was a practical choice, it was unfortunately small. There was a single room on-board, just big enough for them all to sleep in - not that that was an option. At least two would need to be awake at all times to keep the ship on course and avoid crashing against any rocks or obstacles. Cley's men had given Alec and Brice a quick overview of the ship and how to steer it, while Arya already had some idea. Cayn and Tyrion both knew enough to help but it would mostly fall to Alec and Brice to sail them to White Harbour. Arya had climbed onto the roof of the single room in the hopes of finding some peace, but that wasn't to be as Cayn clambered up next to her.
"He looks lonely" said Cayn
The other advantage of her position was gaining a wider view of the river and any potential problems - as well as keeping an eye on Tyrion. He'd been leaning against the railing for the past hour, staring silently into the distance with Lyon at his side.
"Wouldn't you be lonely if your wife tried to get rid of you?"
"Aw, yeah but the Queen was so upset about it. Brice said he thought she was going to change her mind"
Arya snorted "Tell that to Tyrion, I'm sure it'll make him feel better"
Cayn deflated next to her "He won't talk to me"
That wasn't strictly true. Tyrion would answer questions and engage in basic conversation, but he'd resisted the attempts of the guards to pull him into the banter they usually enjoyed. Even Arya had struggled to get much from him.
"Do you think he'll ever forgive us?" asked Cayn
Arya sighed, turning her steely eyes to Cayn "That's up to Tyrion I suppose. He's more forgiving than me, so you might be in luck"
Cayn fumbled over his words, his eyes widening "Oh, um - Lady Arya, I probably owe you an apology too…"
"Probably" she agreed
Arya rolled onto her side, bracing her feet against Cayn. He had no chance to react as she pushed, dislodging him from the top of the room and onto the deck below with a crash.
"Gods be good lad, if you go overboard I aint saving ya!" grumbled Brice
The noise had caught the attention of the ship, pulling Brice and Alec's attention from their position near the sail to Cayn sat grumpily on the deck.
"Lady Arya…" he whined
She leaned over the top, her mouth pulling upwards slightly "I might forgive you"
Standing on the small roof, Arya easily dropped down to the deck, taking one last glance at Cayn's pouting face before moving to the front of the ship.
"I wondered how long it would take you to get bored of him" said Tyrion, still staring into the distance
"I couldn't listen to any more whining over you. He's like a lost puppy"
Tyrion's shoulders slumped "I don't blame him or the others, I know it was duty. I just…"
"Take whatever time you need. No-one expects you to just be ok with all this"
A few moments passed in silence before Tyrion spoke.
"Have you read your letter?"
Arya shook her head "Not sure I'm in the mood for it"
"She's scared Arya" he said, his voice barely a whisper "Sansa worked so hard for the North, and very few ever saw it"
"That's Sansa's fault. She barely ever left the castle and kept everything to herself"
"I don't understand" said Tyrion, dropping his gaze to the river "Sansa has put all her faith in Robin choosing a particular course of action. Why didn't she put that faith in the Northerners who serve her?"
'Why didn't she put that faith in us?'
That was what Tyrion was really asking, and it wasn't something Arya had an answer to. Rather than turn to her family Sansa had sent them away and put in place some convoluted plan that seemed to rely far too much on correctly predicting Robin's behaviour. Her sister was one of the cleverest people she'd ever met, but the more Tyrion had explained his theory on Sansa's plan the more irrational her sister's actions seemed. This wasn't the plan of Sansa Stark at her best; it was the plan of someone whose long repressed anxieties and fears had come to the surface. The Queen in the North had decided this was to be her endgame, but the decision had stemmed from fear rather than logic.
Arya threw her arm around Tyrion's shoulders, pulling him into a loose hug "Don't worry. We'll get to Sansa in time and tell her exactly how stupid she's been"
His eyes brightened slightly "Yes, I believe Lyon wants to have some words with her too"
The direwolf barked in support of the idea.
Tyrion's brow furrowed as he rubbed his friends ear "There's something I don't understand"
"What?"
"I'm quite certain Sansa put the nightshade in my drink, and Cayn told me they left meat laced with nightshade in the forest for Lyon to find knowing he'd go for the easy meal. No-one is willing to tell me how you ended up in the cart?"
Arya clamped her mouth shut, her face reddening "Let's not go over this"
"I can't fathom how you of all people would fall victim to nightshade. You're careful in everything you do, and utterly unpredictable"
"Tyrion…" she warned
"Unless of course, someone knew you liked freshly baked bread from the kitchen. They'd have to know you walked past there in the evening and always took the most misshapen loaf you could find"
"They're not misshapen" she muttered "just different"
"You confirm my theory?"
"I confirm nothing, and neither will you if you want to make it to White Harbour"
The smallest smile crossed Tyrion's face and Arya decided it was just about worth her embarrassment.
"Is it my turn for theories?" she asked
"About what?"
"You never told me who you were sending a letter to at Castle Cerwyn" she said
"Apologies, it slipped my mind. I'm quite happy to tell you"
"No, I want to work it out myself"
"As you wish"
"It'll take us days to reach White Harbour and I need to entertain myself"
"You can always push Cayn off the roof again"
Arya snorted "I don't think the deck can handle it"
"Probably not" he said, turning back to stare out at the river "I look forward to your theories on the letter. If all goes to plan my friend will receive it shortly"
"If they don't?"
Tyrion's face darkened "Then our task will become a lot more difficult"