Sansa POV

It seemed that Sansa's energy had left together with Willas that third day of the tenth month. She tried to smile when she returned to the castle and sat with Leonette, but as she held Chrysan and listened to a story of Alerie she found it hard to keep her focus. Her mind was heavy with worry. It didn't help she felt nauseous, her stomach was uneasy, her skin felt three sizes too small. She just felt… wrong, even though she didn't feel ill. She excused herself and found herself going downstairs in search of Amaryllis, who had always managed to make her relax.

Amaryllis was in her room, writing letters.

'Sansa, I was just writing to Garther but –'

'It's fine, continue. I can wait'

'Sit down, sit down', Amaryllis insisted, pushing Sansa onto her bed before she sat down in her own chair again, her quill floating above the paper.

'You know, sometimes I don't know what to write about. I want to write something cheerful, you know? Because I feel… he's scared. And he can possibly die. And between all of that I don't want to make him worry about me.'

Sansa barely knew what to say to that. Garther was indeed risking his life, and while Willas could get killed by an assassin, it wasn't the same as riding out to meet a potential death the way Amaryllis' betrothed was. Sansa looked down, trying to swallow her guilt. It was partially her fault. The Tyrells had decided to go to war. If they hadn't, Amaryllis wouldn't potentially lose her betrothed. But on the other hand if they hadn't switched sides, Aegon could have punished the Reach upon his ascension. He could have stole their food reserves and wealth, engaged in battle with them and once the Reach was on its knees Aegon could have demanded they hand over their armies so he could force the other parts of the realm to surrender. Would the Reach have benefited more from that decision? Sansa doubted it.

'I wish war wasn't necessary', she only said.

'So do I', Amaryllis said. She turned around, apparently giving up on writing for the present being. 'So… Is Lord Willas –'

'Gone, yes', Sansa replied, guessing that would be the question.

'Has it got to do with… you know.'

'It does.'

Amaryllis smiled, but there was a tensity to it.

'Can I ask? Does he know when the troupes will… well… be put to use? And where? And how dangerous it'll be? And which regiments will be in the vanguard?'

'I don't know', Sansa replied. Amaryllis was trying to calculate Garther's chances of survival. Sansa remembered calculating the odds for her brother, once in a past that seemed both very recent and very long ago. 'I'm not sure whether the negotiations will be focussing on that, as he won't be leading the forces. But if he knows, I'll tell you.'

Sansa made a mental note to ask Willas to find out what he could about the battle plans, and if he could, about where Alyn and Garther would be placed.

'Thank you.'

Amaryllis looked at the letter between her hands. Her smile looked more like a grimace.

'Are you okay?' Sansa asked.

'I should be, right? I'm betrothed. I have a nice job. A nice room. My mother's house is repaired so it'll endure winter. I have everything I wanted… But it's just… I can't seem to enjoy it as much anymore.'

Sansa understood. She was safer than she'd ever been in years. She had the lord husband she'd dreamed of, had a child growing in her belly… In a way she felt better, like she'd shed the ice that had formed around her soul the past two years, but at the same time she still felt some of the anxiety she'd had before because she had new things to lose.

'I get it, Amaryllis, really.'

'I shouldn't be complaining to you', Amaryllis excused. I'm the lucky one. Winter and misery came for you northern lot years ago. I sometimes wonder… Is there a great northern trick to enduring the stress of all the horrible things that can happen during the cold dark years?' Amaryllis asked.

Sansa pondered that question a couple of seconds. She still found it odd that she'd gone from most ostracized member of the court in King's Landing to the most sought-after counsellor for politics and fear. She supposed she was perhaps a stress and mourning veteran.

'Well, first off you've got to be prepared', Sansa started teasingly. 'If you're prepared you should be able to minimize your losses or at least prepare for them. Second, accept that things will get rough. And lastly, stick together.'

'Stick together?' Amaryllis asked. 'How does that help? Like you all huddle together for warmth or…'

Sansa laughed, thinking back on winter evenings with her family.

'My father always said the lone wolf died, but the pack survived. I always took it like having to be a strong front against the world. Wolves who hunt in pack protect each other. They help each other. And because they're not alone, they don't look like easy prey to others, so they'll be left alone.'

'So like: make people afraid of your group and they won't dare hurt you?' Amaryllis asked.

'Something like that.'

'Can I tell Garther to stick with some buddies and fight back to back?' Amaryllis teased. 'Or will that ruin the battle tactics?'

'Do I look like I'm an expert on battle tactics?' Sansa asked.

Amaryllis took a few seconds to look Sansa up and down, seemingly looking for hints of a fierce fighter in her friend.

'Not really', Amaryllis admitted with a grin.

She turned back to her desk.

'Ancient Northern wisdom, which is always nice to follow in winter, says wolves should stick together during their hunt. Now while you are a ferocious but not too furry beast I of course tell you to stick with your friends so no one attacks you from the back. Talking about the back, I do hope you fight far in the back, so you'll be last to the fight and first to return home. Take care', Amaryllis said as she wrote.

Sansa, smiled at her. 'I think that sounds lovely.'

Amaryllis nodded and finished her letter. Once her friend was done, Sansa took a breath.

'By the way I have to tell you something.'

'Okay?'

'I may… be with child.'

'What! Since when? You're only telling me this now?! Why were we moping over the war when we could have been discussing that!' Amaryllis cried.

It was the third long day after a night of restless sleep and waking up exhausted. She and Alerie held court to hear of problems, and afterwards they sat together to find solutions to the smallfolk's complaints. Sansa asked Alerie whether that was normal and Alerie said that it was normal to be constantly fatigued at the start of a pregnancy. The child was consuming her energy, which was a good sign because it would use that energy to grow strong. They were just discussing the repairs needed to a well in the village when the door to the solar flew open.

Alerie looked up, about to protest at the lack of decorum, when Florianne marched in and threw open the window. Sansa froze at her desk. The wind curled into all corners of the room, ruffling the pages. But that was not what required their attention. On this wind, tiny flecks of white floated in, landing and melting on the floor.

Snow.

It had started falling a day after Willas left. So light she mistook it for rain at first. Or perhaps she was being dense about it and refused to believe it at first because it meant Willas would not be back before it. They had also barely survived the rain. She feared what snow would bring. It snowed once every day since. Sometimes an hour, sometimes longer. But up until now, it melted into the ground.

'It's sticking to the ground', Florianne Fossoway explained. Sansa rose to inspect the grounds herself. Indeed, the tops of all hedges were covered. Servants outside were trying to brush the snow from the sheets that covered some of the winter crops before it became too heavy. The pathways between the perches were completely gone. The past few days those had stayed visible.

There hadn't even been any snow on the ground when Sansa last looked out of the window. Sansa's heart clenched.

'Oh dear', Alerie muttered.

'We got a letter', Florianne said. 'I need to return to Cider Hall. A part of the roof has caved in under the pressure from the snow. And the snow has apparently grown half a foot deep. The commoners are struggling to go out and fetch wood for their fires.'

'What?' Alerie brought out, rising to a stand. 'In one night?'

'No, it's been some days since my husband has written', Florianne admitted. 'It's been snowing since the twenty-eighth last month. That's twelve days of snow, not as much or as long each day, but too much to melt. A little sticking to the ground each day adds up.'

'I shall arrange a boat for you. I'm afraid I don't have any comfortable or particularly fast ones, but a light one with big sails will be quick', Alerie offered.

'Thank you.'

'Will you come back?'

'I don't know when, but probably. I don't much like leaving Leonette behind right now, but…'

'I know, all the people before your people', Alerie sighed with a heaviness that betrayed she'd been faced with that same precocious balance many times before. Sansa watched the two good-mothers who evidently had a friendship going at least as far back as Leonette and Garlan's wedding. She felt quite invisible during their conversation, but also didn't want to draw attention to herself.

'We'll take care of her. You know she's in good hands.'

'I'll pack fast. I… You know, I heard things about ice in the sea around the Riverlands and the Blackwater', Florianne told Alerie. 'I want to be quick before the weather gets worse.'

'I understand, I'll have it ready within the hours. Send in a servant after you leave this room, then I will immediately give him a message for the ravens in the port.'

Once Florianne was gone and the message was delivered, Sansa and Alerie looked at each other.

'Let's hope the sea breeze and our relatively low location keep off the cold for a bit longer', Alerie said.

Sansa nodded.

'Even so… Perhaps we should check whether the roofs can hold the weight of a lot of snow?' Sansa suggested. The roofs in the North had been a lot steeper than these. They had been designed so snow and water slid off them.

'That's an idea', Alerie agreed. 'I was also thinking… Because Cider Hall is the largest apple liquor producer in Westeros… could we preserve some of our fruits by turning them into liquor or putting them on alcohol? We have the tools for it. It's easy to store. Nobody needs to be outside to do that.'

Sansa told her it was a wise idea.

'Perhaps you should go to Leonette, Sansa. She might want you with her now that her mother is leaving. I'll be finish up this ground dispute.'

Sansa accepted the nudge and left.

Apparently, Florianne Fossoway wasn't the only one who'd received a raven from the north.

'Ah, L-lady Sansa, my lady, I was looking for you. I have letters', Abel stammered when she reached the Tyrell residential floor. He looked like he'd just been about to start sprinting to his next location, as he always did.

'Yes, thank you, Abel.'

As she looked at him, she suddenly remembered her work. It was ready. She'd spent long hours chatting with all women of the household and had made good progress in that time.

'If you care to follow me?' Sansa smiled, beckoning the boy to her private chambers. The young lad turned red as a beet. Sansa ignored that he was probably thinking of improper things when he followed.

'I noticed your clothes are too big.'

'T-they were made with a growth spurt in mind… Unfortunately, I never quite became tall enough', he explained as they went inside her chambers.

Pudding immediately ran to her, almost jumping at Sansa before realizing Master Willas was angry whenever she did so. She wagged her tail, panting happily. Sansa cooed at the dog, rubbing its head before continuing on her way.

She walked over to the baskets filled with finished embroidery and clothing pieces.

'This should be your size. This one is fuzzy wool, this one is structured wool, and these are cotton shirts.'

They weren't any special colour nor decorated. Servants usually dressed utilitarian and Abel clearly didn't care to stand out.

'T-thank you?'

'I can't have our servants running around with their hands swallowed by their sleeves. It's just not handy', Sansa smiled.

The boy looked at his hands, which were indeed deep in his sleeves. He rolled them up but they always fell again.

'Y-yes my lady. I- I mean no. Not handy at all. Thank you.'

'Sansaaa! Oh… Oh uhm… Abel, right?' Leonette asked, appearing at the threshold of Sansa and Willas' chambers.

The boy coloured again. Lady Leonette had not been seen a lot since birth. She kept to her rooms except for meals and prayer. Nobody had dared to gossip around Sansa but Amaryllis had told her people worried for the once sunshiny Tyrell bride. Leonette was dressed in black and green, still looking pale and tired. She looked at Abel with as much surprise as he looked at her. She had not expected having to interact with someone else.

'Awh, did you make him clothes as well? She loves doing that. Did it for me too', Leonette smiled. She held her boy in her arms. Two letters lay on top of him covering him almost completely.

Abel became even more red.

'Y-you didn't make them. Did you my lady?' he asked.

His eyes were so big and panicked Sansa did feel guilt in admitting she'd made them. Perhaps it was too much. But her septa had always said that servants should be rewarded as it ensured loyalty. Seeing their lady cared did a lot of good to ensure the loyalty of the servants. But perhaps sewing them clothes had been a tad too far. However, she liked sewing. She needed it for relaxation and occupation and she wouldn't allow herself to only make frivolous embroidery pieces.

'I did.'

'Oh- oh my lady. I can't take them.'

'Don't be silly, you can't reject a gift from your lady. Go try them on in your chambers, you can give her no better compliment. Now, I must talk to her', Leonette said.

The boy was shocked when he realized he'd sounded ungrateful and had been imposing on their time. He excused profusely on his way to the door.

'What is it, Leonette?' Sansa asked as she walked towards the table where her letters lay. She recognized one signed with the burning stag of King Stannis and one with the Tyrell coat-of-arms of Willas.

'Willas has written', she started.

'So I see. What? Bad news? Don't tell me the king is mad', Sansa begged, immediately snatching the letter from the table and breaking the seal.

'No, Sansa. Sansa', Leonette begged. Something in her voice made Sansa turn around, it sounded as frail and desperate as it had the night she gave birth. She'd never heard that voice either before or after. Only now did she notice Leonette's eyes were glassy and her cheeks red.

She'd been crying before she came here, and was about to start again.

'The couch', Sansa said. She idly wondered how many generations of crying Tyrells that little couch had seen.

Leonette nodded, taking a handkerchief, blowing her nose and sitting down.

'He's mad. He's mad! They're both mad if they think I will just do it', she started, voice passionate.

'Do what?' Sansa asked, thoroughly confused.

'I'll go and take Brightwater myself. How can they? I'm a lady! My son is to be a lord. I can't just leave and move.'

'Nobody's asking you to move', Sansa started.

'So they say but I don't believe them', Leonette said, her voice breaking again. The first tear slipped past her straight lashes that stood guard around her eyes. They parted in fear for the emotion.

'Which they? Leonette, please. I don't know what they've written.'

Leonette drew a shuddery breath, pressing her babe closer to her chest. He was thankfully unaware of his mother's distress.

'W-Willas has written to me.. And he… he… he says that Targaryen want politically arranged marriages to ensure everyone's l- loyalty. And currently… I- I… I'm one of the House Tyrell and House Fossoway people they intend to wed to someone.'

The words were like ice cutting open her veins.

'What?' Sansa whispered. 'They… They're making you marry again?'

Leonette shook her head, tears rolling down. She wiped them away.

'I shouldn't spill my tears on you, my pretty boy. I'm sorry. Mommy is so silly. But she'll figure this out. No worries', she told her son.

'To whom?'

'The lord of House Fell. Apparently he's a good fighter. They want to use him in battle bus he has no heir. So he needed to be married to a woman of proven fertility fast. Can you believe Chrysan is part of the reason why I have to remarry? Because if worst comes to worst, he can play heir to both castles.'

'There's no other Fells?' Sansa asked. She'd heard about some Fells. Her father told a story about a strong old man who managed to fight Robert, and his son, who also tried his hand at it after his father fell.

'Apparently the other one died with Stannis in the North', Leonette explained. She extended the letters.

'Here, read it. He sent me a letter as well, explaining his situation. He says he understands but he's still going to marry me when Willas returns… Which will be in a few days. I can't be married again in a few days. I lost Garlan not even a quarter of a year ago! How can they be so heartless? I know heart has nothing to do with it but this is particularly vicious. I gave birth just a week ago. Surely… I don't make a tempting bride. Gods, I can barely watch myself in the mirror. I still look pregnant.'

She did, even though the maids wrapped linens around her belly every morning to help keep everything in place. Leonette was a natural mother, instantly taking to feeding her child, holding him right and tending to his needs without frustration. But the regular wake-ups to feed him left her tired, and childbirth had left her weakened.

'I don't know what to say', Sansa admitted.

The letter Leonette had given her was the transcript she'd written from the coded letter. It contained every marriage to every lord and lady from the Reach that had been arranged, to show Leonette it wasn't only her, but also nine year old children being promised.

But the second letter was different. It was in stark contrast to the neat curls of Leonette's handwriting. It was sloppy and uneven, in a brown ink.

"My Lady,

While I wish it were under better circumstances, I rejoice at being given the honour of succeeding your valiant honourable husband…I did not plan for this wedding, or any wedding, to take place either… My brother, my father's heir died recently… A lord needs a wife, and it quickly became clear I would have no choice in who that wife would be. Upon hearing about you from your brother and good-brother after everything was decided I became very glad with the hand I was dealt… You won't enter this marriage for my personality either so I can only offer you my end of the deal by protecting your son's lands… Coming to marry in four days… Lord Willas and Ser Raymas with me…"

Sansa muttered parts standing out to her.

An unwanted wedding. He'd talked with Willas and Raymas and clearly they weren't very opposed to him. Surely he couldn't be that bad then. He'd be here in four days. And Willas would be back in four days!

She had to fight to keep the smile off her lips. She couldn't wait until Willas returned but it would be inappropriate to show that to Leonette.

'At least he… Feels conflicted about marrying you?' Sansa tried. 'It shows he has a conscience and a kind of maturity. That's more than Margaery's ever gotten from a husband.'

'But I'm not used to marrying just someone decent. I had it all! I had love. I had passion. I had kindness. I had a conscience. I had someone with maturity. Replacing him feels like… Feels like replacing a castle with a mud house and calling it just as comfortable. He can't move on. Why should I? I've done my duty. I have married and produced an heir. Why do I need to be bothered with men again? And why did Willas agree to throw me out of this family? Four days… Four days and people will call me Lady Fell instead of Lady Tyrell. That's erasing all the years I've been Garlan's.'

Sansa also couldn't imagine losing her husband without her heart feeling like it was dying. But she knew most marriages weren't out of romantic sentiment. Moreover, she'd been married to someone she didn't care for at all. While she'd hated every second of it and was sure both her and Tyrion had been miserable throughout the entirety of it, she had to recognize in hindsight it could have been much worse. She could have been married to Joffrey who would have bedded her and treated her horribly. So if Leonette really had to remarry, she could accept that fact. She knew Willas loved her enough to not marry her to a monster.

'It doesn't erase them. Everyone knows you were his wife. Everyone knows you have his child. And everyone here loves you. You won't just be replaced or seen as a stranger', Sansa comforted her.

'Yet I'll have to go away, won't I?'

'I don't know. Maybe he'll agree to stay around this region.'

'Fat chance. What lord stays away from home?'

'Almost every lord at the royal court?' Sansa replied.

Chrysan started squirming, and their conversation halted for some minutes as Leonette walked around the room with him.

'I'm afraid I can't do anything.'

She didn't want to either. It was clear almost every single lord and lady from all cooperating parts of the kingdom were being married off. She supposed there was only some wiggle room in who she'd marry, not if.

'None of us apparently could do a thing about it. Not my lord, not him, not me. This king better be worth it.'

'I hope so too. I'm sorry Leo. But… it doesn't have to be horrible. It won't be the same… But a man who cares enough to explain his situation to you and apologize for having to marry you so soon after the death of Garlan does not sound like the worst fate. You… You may find yourself contented, if only because you don't have to bear the burden of Brightwater Keep on your own.'

Leonette closed her eyes, another tear escaping.

'I just can't seem to stop crying these days. What an impression I will make. I used to be so happy.'

'Women are always more emotional around the time they've given birth. Mother was always quicker to cuddles and to anger after a new child was born', Sansa said.

Leonette looked at Chrysan.

'How long?'

'I don't recall. I was quite young.'

Leonette sat down again.

'I don't want him to remember his mother as someone who's always crying.'

'You try to always smile at him.'

'I do. But like now… He must pick up on it? No?'

'I don't have memories from when I was a babe. Do you?' Sansa asked.

'No but –'

'Don't beat yourself up over it, Leo. I can't help you. Not with being happy or with this marriage mess but… I will try to convince Willas to let you stay forever. And I'll do my best to convince them to let you stay in Brightwater Keep for your boy. And… even if that fails… We can hope he simply won't survive the war?' Sansa tried.

'Another dead husband', Leonette sighed. 'The people will start thinking I'm cursed then.'

Sansa took Leonette and Chrysan to the sept to pray for an appropriate marriage that fulfilled Leonette's needs and did not include her fears, before she retreated to her chambers to read the letters directed at her.

One was from Willas, explaining even more about the marriage deals. He said Aegon had left for Dragonstone and when the attack would begin. Sansa swallowed, fear taking hold of her. She didn't feel ready for this. After months of virtually no progress at all it all seemed to be going so fast. Aegon had taken over three months to conquer the Stormlands and now he was ready to take Dragonstone? Perhaps it wasn't weird, considering the Stormlands were the only part of the realm he had to conquer before he had enough warriors to challenge the crown. He had the advantage that by the time King's Landing heard it was a Targaryen and not just Jon Connington taking back his lands and making the Stormlands unsafe, he'd already taken Storm's End. He had no choice but to keep moving, otherwise the Small Council would send the army at him before he was ready.

She thought reading a letter from Stannis would give her a distraction from her fears. It did, but it shook her so thoroughly that she shouted, cried, cursed, prayed and then cried again. She couldn't believe it.

After all these years she had given up on hope.

The words she read had to be lies. Even though the rational part of her brain told her it couldn't be so as there was no motive for King Stannis to claim what he wrote to her.

Stannis had murdered the Boltons and taken back Winterfell. Some Northern lords like the Lord Manderly had switched sides once Davos Seaworth, the hand of Stannis, returned with Rickon. Stannis claimed her brother was alive and well and had been hidden on Skaagos by a wildling woman who claimed Sansa's other brother Bran was also alive, and hiding somewhere with Meera and Jojen Reed. Theon Greyjoy, who was a prisoner of Stannis, had admitted to not having killed the boys, but having killed two young servant boys of similar size.

A part of her wanted to believe that Theon had not been capable of killing the children he'd grown up with. But she'd seen so much horror and betrayal. Sansa didn't dare to believe anymore.

But there were so many aspects of the story that didn't add up. Why would Manderly and the other Northern lords switch to Stannis? They distrusted everything Southern. And wouldn't the Northern lords be able to recognize Rickon? They'd known him for years. They would balk at a false Rickon.

Her critical brain had an answer though. The Boltons were awful and cold at the best of times. Perhaps the Northern lords agreed to side with Stannis if it meant eliminating Bolton and expanding their own power. Perhaps the part Stannis wrote about the Northern lords recognizing Rickon was a lie. But that jaded thought led to nothing.

Why would the Northern lords side with Stannis if he wanted to name a five- almost-six year old child as the most powerful lord in the North if their point was to gain power? And why make a lie Sansa could find out? And why feel the need to tell Sansa?

If what he wrote was true though… It all added up. The Northerns lords were faithful to her brother and had a lot of love for the Starks. They'd hated the crown for executing her father. Perhaps they would kneel for a king who reinstalled the Starks in power. By installing Rickon, he could also assure himself of having a lord who would always be indebted to him and thus forced to obey him. And by finding and reinstating her brother, Stannis kind of forced Sansa to switch to his side, as he currently had the power of ruining her family or keeping it safe.

They had chosen Aegon. A choice she did not feel very confident about, but she was sure was the only choice if they wanted a just king.

She'd been so young when the war started. Surrounded by Lannisters and death. She had just been trying to survive. She didn't think about which of the kings on the board were better and worse. All she knew was that Robb was her brother so she loved him, and that Joffrey was a monster so she disliked him. She hadn't cared about the rest. She hadn't been interested in politics yet. And by the time she was, nobody cared about Stannis anymore.

He wasn't mad like Joffrey, nor young like Renly or lazy and irresponsible like Robert. He was dutiful, he was stern and he was – apparently – just. He was willing to compromise and listen to the needs of the people – so he had shown – instead of his own. Sansa was amazed at her own slowness at realizing that perhaps, Stannis was the only king who'd listened to Jon. She'd been reading about Jon mentioning Stannis and vice versa now for months and never had she wondered what Stannis was doing in the North while the Iron Throne stood in the South. Not a single king had given up the game of thrones to fight the battle her brother begged everyone to aid in.

Suddenly, the misery of the situation kicked in.

Sansa swallowed away the sounds pushing at her throat, but silent tears spilled over.

A responsible king existed but they'd chosen a young one they knew nothing about.

Her baby brother was probably alive but in winter, with her being pregnant, she couldn't go to him.

Worse, her last two – possibly even three – family members left were all in the North, in the line of fire if Jon's claims about the Others were true, and she could do nothing to help them except send others there and hope it would be enough.