Sansa

Even on the first day following Jon's departure from Winterfell, Sansa's workload had increased considerably. Noticing this, she added yet another item to the list of things that made her sad about Jon's departure happening so soon after he arrived home from the Wall: for another month she would have to attend duties that her King couldn't. While Sansa was certainly grateful Jon had so much confidence & respect for her abilities to rule in his stead, there was a sliver of frustration underlying her gratitude. Thankfully though, with Howland Reed taking the position of Acting Hand, some of the pressure was relieved.

Very quickly, the Lord of Greywater Watch proved himself extremely competent within his given role. Every morning the Princess and Acting Hand would make the effort to break their fasts together, opting to so while sitting amoung the smallfolk of castle on the low tables in the great hall, listening to all their people had to say. Afterwards, the pair of them would repair to Sansa's solar where they would talk about laws & taxes & preparing the castle for housing the population of Wintertown. During sessions of court, they would work together to resolve issues; Howland's many years of experience as an acting lord helped him find better solutions that Sansa knew she would never have thought of. Needless to say, Howland's value as an advisor was a resource Sansa wasn't going to neglect making use of.

Ghost refused to ever leave her side, even when encouraged to go hunting in the Wolfswood: something Jon would do twice a week. The direwolf was taking the command to look after Sansa as seriously as he could. She didn't mind though: having Ghost close-by meant having a piece of Jon close-by. The direwolf did tend to scare the younger children living in Winterfell whenever he would walk beside Sansa through the courtyards. She would assure parents that Ghost was safe to be around, quelling the parents' worries, but failing to keep the children off edge whenever the direwolf was near them. On the first night following Jon's departure, Ghost climbed on top of Sansa's bed when she settled down to sleep. After some admittedly weak attempts to get the direwolf to move off, Sansa accepted that he would not budge. That night and every night afterwards, Sansa fell asleep running her fingers through the soft white fur on Ghost's back. She found his presence in her bed very comforting: just the thing she needed before drifting to sleep on long, cold nights.

Bran kept mainly to himself, spending his days in the Weirwood Network, searching through countless moments from the past, present and future. Sansa would see him now and again and speak to him pleasantly: he very much saw it as a priority to ensure a strong relationship between the two of them, but not so much of a priority that he took the time to spend even a full day with Sansa, helping to rule the kingdom he was a prince of. In Bran's defense, what he was doing was a vital part of the effort against the White Walkers; Sansa was perfectly aware of and at piece with that. It just made her feel depressed that she couldn't spend more time with her borther. Luckily, she was able to make up for that with the time she and Meera spent together. Sansa's new good-sister had already proved herself a pleasant and helpful person, and building their relationship was just the thing needed to satisfy Sansa's wish for familiar connection. As for Jyana, Howland's wife & Meera's mother, she occupied herself sending time with Rygle and the head housekeeper, acquainting herself with the state of the castle and doing what she could to help improve it.

By the end of the first week following Jon's departure, a train of carriages arrived from White Harbour. They carried the first supply of dragonglass sent from Dragonstone. Sansa saw it properly sorted with the help of Rygle & Howland. The blacksmiths began their work, chiseling and forging the black, glassy stone before the afternoon was done. They promised swords, arrows, spears, axes and daggers. Sansa thanked him for beginning work so quickly, making the comment that it would be a pleasant surprise for the King to return home and find dragonglass weapons forged and ready for combat.

Progress made on digging the trench was dictated entirely by how heavily the snow decided to fall. Every man who could be spared was shovling & hoisting snow & dirt. Men from Wintertown and the farmers staying in Winterfell for the winter worked alongside the castle's own workmen to combat the weather's adamance that the trench not be finished. Sansa could not help be grow just as disgruntled as Jon had been as she made her own inspections of the work. She made her displeasure toward the slow progress clear to the foreman:

"This trench must be finished by the time the Walkers are at our door," Sansa told him with a commanding tone. "The Wall could fall at any moment. We need to be ready for when it does."

"I'm aware of the urgency, my lady, but for every spadeful we remove, it will quickly be replaced by the falling snow," the foreman explained. "And the snowstorm that hit us the day of His Grace's return from the Wall set progress back a week."

"Can you give me any prediction of when the trench might finished?"

"It is impossible to say without any certainty of what the weather will be like. Even if only light snow were to fall, it will take another month before the trench would be at the depth King Jon specified."

"Then let us hope the snow is light."

They were unlucky to say the least. The next day brought with it another incredibly heavy bout of snow. Work could not be done in such poor weather and progress was set back once again. Sansa spent the day in her solar, making sure her fire was fuelled and busying herself with paperwork. She had supper alone, getting the serving girl to bring some mutton for Ghost to eat. Before climbing into bed, she sat in front of her bedchamber's hearth dressed in a nightshift, Ghost lying at her wind beat against the window with a wild fury. Outside, the night was black.

"If we get snowed in, I'll be glad to have you with me," she admitted to Ghost. His response was placing his head in her lap. She chuckled. "I'll take that as you agreeing." Not long afterwards, Sansa slipped underneath the fur duvet of her bed as Ghost climbed onto the other side. She kissed Ghost on top of his head before planting her head in the pillow and closing her eyes.

Drifting into sleep, Sansa's dreams became nightmares. She saw the walls of Winterfell broken, dead men pouring through the gaps in-between stone only to slaughter the terrified people within. Sansa was with them. She fought a white walker only for her sword to shatter. The walker put his frozen spear through her belly, snuffing out any life within her. As she lay dying, the image of Jon hanging from a gibbet flash before her eyes. His entrails spilled from his belly like they were a group of snakes that had been trapped within his abdomen. Around his neck hung a sign that read, 'This is what happens to wolves when they fight lions.'

Sansa shot upright in bed, chest heaving and a cold sweat coating her body, making her nightshift stick to her skin. The fire was long dead but she could clearly see the two red eyes staring at her from the other side of the bed. Her arms went around Ghost's neck to find some sort of comfort in the softness of his fur and the warmth of his body. Sansa's tears began to flow. Her sobbing filled the room.

Only once she calmed did she remember that Jon was a warg and that Bran had told him to expect dreams where he saw through Ghost's eyes. Perhaps he's having one now.

"Jon," she said. "Please be careful. I can't lose you." And it was no shallow plea. If she lost Jon, she lost the person who she'd come rely on the most for help, comfort and protection. She would lose a third brother. She would lose her King.

After a time, Sansa realised her hold on Ghost's neck was tighter than comfortable for him, prompting her to loosen her grip. She lied back down, Ghost resting his head on her chest. Come back to me Jon. I need your help to rule the North. While she certainly could rule alone, Jon's absence proving so, she didn't want to. Why would she? They'd reclaimed the North together and should rule it together.

But there was always the chilling knowledge that Bran saw her as Queen in the North lingering in the back of Sansa's mind. That future could manifest itself in plenty of the ways, the most likely of which being that Jon would die in battle with the White Walkers and she would take his place as ruler, being his heir. But I don't want to be Queen if it means Jon has to die for it.

She distracted herself from her worrying the folllowing day. It would be another week before Jon arrived at Moat Cailin and it would do to give herself unnecessary stress. Sansa spent her free time focusing her swordplay, practicing with Sandor and not holding back; he was happy to oblige her, letting her get in hits but also punishing her when she slipped up. Needless to say, she was far from mastering the art of swordplay, but at the same time, she was becoming relatively competent given how little time she'd spent training.

A raven scroll from Jon arrived a few days overdue, but not so many that it meant there was need to worry. Making her usual visit to the Rookery, Maester Wolkan gave Sansa the scroll sealed by white wax & stamped with the direwolf of House Stark. Cracking the seal & unrolling the parchment, a wave of relief flowed over her as she read:

Sansa,

Talks went well. Jaime Lannister has heard our plea and promises to bring an army north once he has dealt with the threat that Euron Greyjoy presents to the realm. I ride north for Winterfell and look forward to reuniting. With me is your cousin Robin as well as a surprise. I'll see you in two weeks.

Your brother, Jon.

"Is it good news, my lady?" Maester Wolkan asked.

"It is Maester Wolkan," Sansa answered, handing back the scroll, "very good news."

The good news kept her motivated through the following weeks: not even another heavy snowstorm could dampen her mood. Preparations for the Wintertown population being moved into the castle were finalised. Sansa indulged in a bit of celebration for the finished task and spent an evening drinking and japing with Howland, Rygle & the head housekeeper in her solar. She went to bed dizzy from the wine, stumbling her way from her solar to her bedchamber, even finding difficulty in the simple task of changing into her night-clothes. She woke the next morning regretting she'd drunk so much as a splitting headache plagued her for the rest of the morning.

Days before Jon was due to return, Sansa sent Ser Kyle south on the Kingsroad with a honour guard to meet the King on his return. A few days after the honour guard departed, two of the party arrived through the southern gate with a request from Jon for Sansa to meet him on the road. She rode out with Ghost, Howland, Sandor, Pod and a company of men, kicking snow off the ground as they travelled through Wintertown and continued along the Kingsroad for a half hour. Ghost kept far in front of the company the entire journey. When he stopped, Sansa ordered the company to do same. The direwolf looked stiff, staring the road down as it weaved its way over shallow hills covered in snow and met the white sky on the horizon.

"What is it Ghost?" she called from her place at the front of the company.

As if responding to Sansa, Ghost place his haunches on the ground and sent up a howl warmer than a hearthfire. It travelled on the air as gracefully as any bird; as did the reply, coming from directly south. It was soon joined by a chorus, each howl made by a different wolf. Sansa was not blind to the unease building in the company so she turned round and said, "Ghost isn't afraid, so we have nothing to fear."

"What else are we supposed to feel?" Sandor grumbled. "There's a pack of wolves somewhere close."

To that Sansa had no reply. It was perfectly normal for anyone to be put off by the knowledge that they were close to a pack of wolves.

The company didn't continue any further down the Kingsroad, instead opting to sit and wait. The weather was calm today and the cold was so much that their furs and leathers still let out some heat. Ghost sat on his haunches, staring at the south, and all the while Sansa stared at Ghost: if he showed any distress or unease, she would need to as well.

Soon, a large grey blur crawled over the horizon, gradually making it's way along the Kingsroad. Sansa tried to make out what the blur was, but it was simply too far off. Ghost stood once he saw it, getting clearer with every moment. It wasn't long until Sansa could see white and blue banners flying in the wind at the centre of the group. Yes, that's what it was: a group. A very large group made of wolves and riders led by one wolf in particular that was larger that all the rest, its fur grey and eyes gold.

By the Gods. That's Nymeria.

The direwolf slowed as it finished its approach, stopping a few metres in front of Ghost. The two of them stared at each other as the rest of the wolves and the riders travelling with them came to a stop. The riders were led by Ser Kyle and the honour guard Sansa had sent out. Sansa wanted to welcome them, but she was too intrigued by Ghost and Nymeria. They were sniffing each other over. Sanas looked round at her men. They were visibly uneasy; as were their horses.

"Turn round, back to the castle," she ordered.

The order was followed. As was to be expected, the many wolves travelling with them sent a fright through all of Wintertown. Dogs barked and work horses reared. All Sansa could do was be content in the knowledge that the wolves would not harm the people since they were too occupied with following their leader.

Reaching the castle, all the men work outside it stopped and stared. Thankfully Ghost broke off from the Kingsroad in the direction of the Wolfswood and Nymeria followed him, bring ing the rest of her pack with them. Sansa's company, Ser Kyle's honour guard and those who had travelled from Moat Cailin crowded into the southern courtyard, dismounting when they stopped. Stable hands rushed in to take horses away. Sansa began looking over every rider, trying to find Jon, after telling Rygle to prepare rooms for any new guests that might have come from the Vale with Robin.

She found her cousin climbing off his moment Robin's feet were on the ground, he came running toward Sansa, nearly knocking her to the ground when he wrapped his arms around her.

"Sansa," Robin said, cheerful. "It's so good to see you."

"And you too Robin," Sansa managed, having had the breath knocked out of her. She looked up at Jon; he stood watching her and Robin hug with a big smile on his face. "Come here." His smile grew as he walked toward them. Sansa slipped out of Robin's arms only to quickly find herself in Jon's. "How in the seven hells did you find Nymeria?"

"She found me," Jon replied. "She and her pack followed Jaime Lannister's army north and then followed him when he came to Moat Cailin. But enough about me." he pulled himself out of the hug. "How has Winterfell been?"

"Preparations for the habitation of Wintertown's people are complete, Your Grace," Sansa reported, her voice all business and no emotion. "Progress on the trench has been pushed back dramatically by two snow storms that hit us in the time you were away. More smallfolk are flocking to us for protection from the nearby villages and farms. I fear we will be over-crowded when the time comes to call our banners to the castle in preparation for the White Walkers' attack."

Jon frowned. "It will be a reality we will have to live with."

Sansa nodded. "The foremen understands how important the trench is, Your Grace. He has promised to keep his men working whenever he can."

"Still with a day of rest for every six days of work I hope."

"Yes, of course. That hasn't changed, Your Grace."

"Good." His smile returned. "And how have you been, Sansa?"

"Managing is the most apt work," Sansa replied. "Might we repair to my solar or the great hall? I'd rather talk to you without the want to move in the back of my mind."

"Of course. We need to get food in the bellies of our visitors." They began walking through courtyrard. Most of the horses had been taken away now. Jon raised his his voice, turning around to look mainly at the men from the Vale that had joined him in riding north. "Please, join me in the great hall for drinks and a hot meal. Lord Robin will have a play of hnour beside me on the high table."

And beside Robin was the knight Lyn Corbray; a thin and handsome man. The knight Lothor Brune was given a place close to the front of the hall. Both of the knights found insuferable after keenness to ask her questions regarding Littlefinger, to which she only gave truthful answers they didn't like. Throughout the meal, Jon's conversation was focused between his guest of honour and Sansa. She didn't mind: it was only expected of him to give a good amount of attention to a guest.

The food was finished quickly – since it was rations – but the drink flowed more freely. The singer staying the castle saw the need for music and took it upon himself to start singing, much to the joy of those in the hall who began to sing along. Sansa found herself nursing a cup of water as the rest of those in the hall made themselves cheerful and drunk. Bran didn't showed up to the meal and Jon was busy talking with Robin.

"Excuse me, Your Grace," Sansa said to Jon beside her as she stood, "I must repair to my solar. The hall has gotten to loud for my liking."

Jon stood himself. "Allow me to escort you, my lady," he said, "if only to speak to with you more privately for a time."

"Of course."

"Thank you." Jon looked down at Robin. "Excuse me, my lord, I will return, but first I must discuss some things with Princess Sansa."

Princess and King made their departure through the lord's entrance before walking the corridors and stairs of their home to reach the lord's solar. There they sat down after lighting a fresh fire. Already Sansa found herself feeling much better compared to when she was sat in the great hall.

"So what do you want to talk about?" she asked to get straight to the point.

"Even with the Lannisters now our allies, there's no telling whether or not Daenerys Targaryen will choose to help us as well," Jon began. "Jaime has promised that he will be trying his best to make peace and I sent a raven to Dragonstone telling Davos to make peace with Daenerys should he get the chance. Hopefully daenerys can be reasoned with to see the true threat to the relam.

"There is also Euron Greyjoy, Theon's uncle. He has a horn that he claims can bind dragons to his will. Again, Jaime has promised to make sure Euron never gets the chance to prove his claims. Cersei had it stored in a secure location, but Euron could easily overpower the men in Kng's Landing and take it anyway. If it does work, he promised to burn the north to a cinder."

Sansa's stomach sank. "Do you think he will follow up that promise?"

Jon shook his head. "From how Jaime speaks of Euron, he's a complete mad man. Seven hells, the man killed his own brother and supposedly practises dark magic. Only the Gods know what Euron will do should he succeed in binding Daenerys' dragons to his will. The only thing we can be certain of is that it will be bad for everyone." He then gave her a concerned looked. "You know Bran told me to expect dreams where I see through the eyes of Ghost."

"You heard me that night, didn't you?"

Jon nodded. "What got you so distressed?"

Sansa gave an awkward smile. "Bad dream. Got myself worried. That's all it was."

"You shouldn't be ashamed of getting worried," Jon said softly before offering a hand. Sansa took it. "What happened in your dream?"

She frowned. "I don't remember, it was too long ago. I just remember you met a terrible fate because you went to meet Jaime."

The two of them tightened their grip on the other's hand, staring into each other's eyes. They stayed like that for some time, two siblings who'd come to rely on each other for familiar connection in a time where it was needed more so than ever.

"I love you, Jon," Sansa said finally, breaking the silence between them. "I could not have asked for a better brother." Jon smiled so warmly in reply that she couldn't help giving a smile in return.

"And I love you, Sansa," he replied. "The gods could not have blessed me with a greater sister."

Sansa could not help but laugh. "Imagine if Father could see us now."

Jon chuckled. "I think he would faint." He stood, placing a kiss on Sansa's forehead before walking toward the door. "I'm afraid I must leave you now. I fear I have made Robin wait to long for my return."

"Come here once you're done welcoming him. I've paperwork to show you."

"Of course. See you then."