Moon Three (Waning)

From Those We Love Comes Our Strength

AN: Happy New Year! A little surprise for anyone reading! Hope you enjoy the new chapter. Thanks Max20.7 for reviewing!

Chapter Summary:

Catelyn, Rodrik, Blackfish, Bronn, and Tyrion try to get out of the Vale so they can journey to Moat Cailin.

The return journey from the Vale of Arryn was, thus far, little more pleasant than the journey there had been, Catelyn reflected as she huddled inside a blanket that did little to keep her warm. She could hear the echoes of dripping water off the roof of the cave and the little splat sounds as they hit the floor. She could also hear the echoes of men snoring. She ought to be sleeping as well; they would have yet another long, hard march as soon as the sun set, but sleep evaded her. Restlessly she turned onto her back and prayed for sleep to come. Yet again the Gods didn't seem to be listening because sleep did not come. Instead, she reflected on the events of the journey thus far.

Having decided she must somehow get herself, Rodrik, Tyrion, and the men that had come with them out of this only-slightly-short-of-disaster she had created, she had discussed the matter at length with Ser Rodrik and Brynden the night she received the letter regarding the attempt to execute Ned — after they had been able to calm her, that was. They had each supplied what they knew.

Ser Rodrik had received word from Edmure earlier that day. Jaime Lannister had finally reappeared and was gathering a host. Edmure had sent riders to find out Lord Tywin's intent, but Tywin had refused to treat with him or even give an answer. After that, Edmure had set two of his best men to guard the pass below the Golden Tooth. He'd sent word he would not yield a single foot of Tully land unless he first watered it with Lannister blood. Such actions from Edmure also darkened Catelyn's mood, as it had to mean her father was very ill indeed to have given Edmure the command in this matter.

Brynden reported, still with a great degree of irritation, that he and Lysa had argued earlier in the day. They disagreed about what should be done in response to both Edmure's letter and this new turn of events in which an attempt had been made on Eddard's life. Brynden immediately wanted to take a command of a thousand men and go south to support Edmure and the fighting in the Riverlands. The battle-hardened Blackfish could not imagine not going to support his family when they needed him: Family, Duty, Honor after all. However, Lysa had been completely opposed to that idea. Not only could the Vale not spare a thousand men, she had said, they could not spare even one. She had gone on to point out that her Uncle's place was in the Vale as Knight of the Gate. The Blackfish had gotten his temper up and spat at Lysa that she would have to find herself a new Knight of the Gate; he would leave on the morrow for Riverrun with or without her help or blessing.

Catelyn added that Robb had told her he had called the banners and was already on his way to Moat Cailin with some twelve thousand men and, though Robb had wanted her to go to Winterfell, she desperately wanted to see Robb. And she wished to talk to him in person about all that had transpired. Not to mention, she was not about to let her beloved Nuncle head off on the High Road alone. That was surely a death sentence in and of itself.

She also spoke with them about all she had learned from Tyrion and of her guilt and doubts regarding his involvement. "I cannot say another Lannister did not do this thing, but I think I believe Tyrion had nothing to do with it. And Lysa seems set on this trial idea even if Tyrion was meant to be my prisoner." Catelyn had said, worry evident in the lines on her face and the tone of her voice. "I think we may not have any choice but to leave — without Lysa's knowledge or permission. Elsewise, Tyrion is going to wind up dead and that will just create…"

"Disaster," Ser Rodrik filled in.

"Yes," Catelyn said with a sigh.

"That would require you to persuade Lannister to come with us," Brynden had said, doubtfully.

"Well, do you suppose he'd rather stay here and take his chances with my sister?" Catelyn had asked.

"Well, I know what he might have in mind." When Catelyn had bid him continue Brynden said, "Ask that sell-sword to stand in as his champion in a trial by combat."

"Sounds like a risk — even with a sell-sword," Rodrik said, rubbing his white beard that was finally beginning to grow back. "Moreover, whose to say the sell-sword would accept? Lannister is probably already quite a bit in debt to him. Even though Lannisters always pay their debts, every man has a limit."

"But if he goes with us, he would remain a prisoner. He's not like to accept that." Brynden had pointed out.

Catelyn bit her lip in thought. "Perhaps, but it would give Lord Tywin the chance to ransom him. I doubt Lysa would be willing to accept that. We would."

"A very fair point," Rodrik stated.

And so, off Catelyn had gone to the sky cells for the second time that night.

Ultimately, a few more hours saw them sneaking out with just meager supplies as quickly as possible — before Lysa could guess what was happening beneath her nose. The weight of their actions weighed heavily on Catelyn's shoulders even now. What they had done was not honorable. It was, she supposed, dutiful and loyal to at least half her family. Still, she did not feel easy about it.

It might have been easier to take a ship and avoid the Highroad altogether, but none were leaving that day, and they hardly had time to charter one. They had to be away before either Mord woke from the smack over the head Ser Rodrik had given him (though he would like as not be pleased with the bag of gold coins Tyrion had left beside his prone form when it was done) or before Lysa realized they were gone. It meant they would have to take their chances with the High Road and then go North to Moat Cailin from there.

Within a day, Tyrion and Bronn had begun to argue with one another, irritating everyone. Bronn thought it best to ride fast and hard through the Vale to get off the High Road as soon as possible. They could ride at night and hole up in the caves during the day in hopes of not meeting mountain clans. Meanwhile, Tyrion believed they should accept that meeting clansmen was inevitable and that they might as well try to bargain with them. The two of them had turned surly and snappish with each other irritating both Ser Rodrik and Blackfish to no end.

"What is it you expect to bargain to them with? The mountain clans aren't like to accept gold, Lannister." Brynden had finally said, irritation and exhaustion plain in his voice. "No, we can't take that risk. I've dealt with these clans for years. The likelihood of them letting us pass is right slim. We'll do what Bronn suggests."

Tyrion had grumbled most of the next day and the one after below his breath — low insults about insufferable Tullys and Starks — but ultimately went along with the decision as he had little other choice. On one particular night when he seemed less able to hold his tongue he had growled at Catelyn to ask why, if she believed him innocent, that she still held him prisoner.

Catelyn, tired and irritated, had wanted to grumble right back but managed to hold her temper. Fighting amongst themselves was absolutely pointless. "Frankly, this is not just about guilt or innocence at this point. Your sister or nephew tried to kill my husband and currently holds my daughters hostage. Until I have them back, you remain my prisoner. Because you are the only hope I have of getting them back."

"And if I just leave?" Tyrion had responded testily.

"You'll be back in chains before you take ten steps, Lannister." Brynden Tully warned, sitting up and putting a hand to the hilt of his sword, ready to back up his words with steel.

"And don't think the sell sword will be an issue for two battle hardened men. We'll deal with him and find you within the hour and be far less amiable when we do," Ser Rodrik added.

Tyrion had put his hands up in a gesture of defeat. "All right. I take your point. I remain your prisoner." At least, Tyrion thought, he'd been able to persuade Bronn to stay with the promise of even more gold. In case worse came to worse…

And those events were the ones that had led them to their current place. Fortunately, they had nearly reached the end of the High Road without trouble. If their luck continued to hold, they would be out of the Vale within a day or two and riding for Moat Cailin where Catelyn would be able to reunite with Robb.

She was anxious to see her son and anxious to find out what the possibilities were for getting Ned and the girls back. She regretted ever having tried to persuade Ned to go south. She felt a fool. Ned had wanted to stay North and avoid the 'pit of vipers' as he called King's Landing. Why had she not listened?

It was her last thought before she finally drifted into a fitful sleep

It was a relief to finally be out of the Vale and off the High Road. It appeared that Bronn's strategy had paid off. The trek had been difficult, and Ser Rodrik and Brynden and pushed them such a fast pace it had been difficult for everyone else to manage. Nonetheless, they had escaped the Vale unscathed to everyone's relief.

Catelyn had thought that when they left the Vale Bronn was likely to go his own way, but he did not. Privately, Catelyn wondered how much gold Tyrion had promised him to continue to remain even though Tyrion was still a prisoner, and she wondered how long his willingness to cooperate would last.

Regardless, it hadn't been a bad thing to have a sell sword along with them in case of trouble along the road. Catelyn had always been averse to sell swords since they flew in the face of her moral code, but even she had to admit that they had their place and that Bronn did not seem a bad sort beyond his occupation.

The danger on the Kingsroad seemed almost negligible after they escaped the High Road unscathed. Nonetheless, they kept to the trees and took turns keeping a watch through the night and took no extra risks. When Tyrion made a jape about staying once more at the Crossroads Inn, Ser Rodrik had glared at him and said, "Thank you, but I think not. Enough trouble has already occurred there for a good long time."

Truthfully, Tyrion agreed with him, but the jape had been too good not to make. Realistically, the likelihood of anyone coming back to look for him where they had left from originally was slim. Moreover, if his father or Jaime had sent men to look for them, it had been nearly three moons since he was taken prisoner, and Catelyn had stated loudly she would be taking him to Winterfell. Any men who had been sent to look for him would be long in the North by now. Damn her. Catelyn Stark was playing the game of thrones far too well for Tyrion's liking.

The day they came close enough to see Moat Cailin far on the horizon, Catelyn's heart could have taken wing and soared above the tallest mountains in the Vale of Arryn. Though she could not make out the banners clearly, she could tell they were white with dark at the center — it could be nothing but the grey direwolf of House Stark. Catelyn had, perhaps, never been so relieved to see her husband's banner in all her life. It meant they were safe now after near some three moons of trekking across Westeros in fear for her family at every turn. Though her uncle pointed out, rightly so, that the Moat looked like a death trap for those inside as well as outside, Catelyn remembered what Ned had taught her about the place and knew it was not so.

Catelyn sent up a silent, fervent prayer of thanks to the Gods for keeping them safe — and Robb safe — for now at least. Her heart had been in her throat every moment since she had learned he had called the Banners and was marching south to engage the Lannisters. Robb had passed his fifteenth nameday — another guilt; Catelyn had not been there to celebrate it with him. She had never missed one of her children's namedays before. Meanwhile, Tywin and Jaime Lannister were true soldiers with years of experience. She could remember so many moments with Robb: when he had taken his first hesitant steps, when he said his first words, when he had his first lessons. He was her first child and not even yet a man grown but now he shouldered the burdens of a man nonetheless.

But Catelyn knew her fears were not to be assuaged any time soon. Robb had come too far to turn back now. Ser Rodrik had told her that if he was correct in his estimate of the number of men who would have joined Robb during his trek from Winterfell to Moat Cailin he had some eighteen thousand men at his command by this point — and now he was the liege lord to them. They must see him as a man, and if he withdrew now they would see only a foolish child rather than someone they must needs respect. It also meant that when he emerged from the Moat somehow looking older than when she had last seen him and said "Mother," with such emotion in his voice, she still could not run and take him in her arms as she longed to do. Instead, she had to settle for waiting whilst all the other Lords greeted her.

She might have snapped when Roose Bolton approached and begged a moment. Tensions and suspicion had run high between House Bolton and House Stark for centuries and Lord Roose with his near colorless, grey eyes and frightening, soft voice did not put Catelyn at her ease by any means. Nonetheless, she contained herself and beckoned him forward. They could not afford to fight amongst themselves, and Ned had always managed Roose with courtesy — Catelyn would do the same.

"As I have heard it told, you have taken Tyrion Lannister prisoner."

"As of yet, I have not grown so small as to be invisible," Tyrion snapped.

Catelyn wondered at Tyrion's daring and stood in stunned silence for just a moment while Roose Bolton simply stared at the dwarf in a way that Catelyn believed would have made many taller, stronger men flinch. Tyrion did not.

"So you have brought him to us! Well done, Lady Stark! We will be able to make excellent use of such a valuable prisoner."

In response to his liege lord's words, one of Bolton's men stepped forward and gripped Tyrion by the shoulders. Tyrion was stronger than the man expected, however, and wrenched loose a shoulder, a hand coming out of his boot with a dagger that Catelyn somehow had not realized he had — had he had it all this time? Surely not! Using his short stature to his advantage, Tyrion leaned down to reach the man's foot much faster than could be predicted from a person of average height and drove the knife right through the boot and the toe beneath.

Bolton's man uttered a string of curses and leapt away in shock, trying to pull the knife from his foot, unhanding Tyrion in the process. Roose went to reach for Tyrion, but he quickly stepped backward just out of Roose's grasp while Roose glared at him, anger now in his eyes. "You are a brave little half-man aren't you? Some would see you dead for that."

Catelyn finally found her tongue and held her hand up. "Gentlemen, we are all travel weary and of ill humor because of it. The specifics of this situation can be sorted out when we have eaten and rested. Tyrion Lannister is my prisoner and, as such, remains under my charge and no other. Now, you will excuse us." It was not a request.

Robb watched what played out before him in surprise and even respect. "Take him somewhere befitting of his station and see that he is brought a hot meal and a bath."

Roose Bolton raised a single eyebrow. "You would have your mother tell you what to do, Lord Stark?"

Robb's face flushed in irritation. He could see why Father did not always trust Roose Bolton. To be sure, he was a military genius and could be relied upon for his loyalty to the North, but as a man, well, that was something different altogether. "I would do what is most likely to get cooperation and results, Lord Bolton,"

Robb's voice was tight with anger but well-hidden enough that only Catelyn was able to recognize it as such.

"We gain nothing by treating him badly. Lord Tywin will expect that he not be harmed when it is time to negotiate for the return of our own hostages. Moreover, he is far more likely to cooperate with us if we do not act offensively toward him."

"He," Tyrion inserted, clearly rankled, "Is able to speak for himself and prefers young Lord Stark's suggestions."

Catelyn had to press her lips together to keep a slight smile from appearing on her lips. If she had learned anything at all in the last three moons it was that Tyrion Lannister was certainly neither daunted nor defined by his size. Nonetheless, it would not do to let Lord Bolton know of her amusement at his expense, so she merely looked at the muddy ground biting her lip and recognizing that Robb had grown into a young man of which Ned would be proud.

Bolton stepped back with a somewhat incredulous expression but said no more. His expression eventually changed to one that suggested he understood Robb's logic whether he agreed with it or not.

"I would have my evening meal with you, My Lady." Robb said, offering his arm to his mother, which Catelyn took.

"I would like that very much, Robb."

It was only when they were, at last, alone in Robb's quarters that Catelyn dared throw her arms around her son and felt his tight grip in response, communicating the combination of fear, determination, and excitement with no need of words while Catelyn held her precious almost-a-man son and pressed a warm kiss to the top of his head even though it made Robb blush and wriggle awkwardly.

It was only after Catelyn had talked with Robb at length, some decisions had been reached, and she had eaten that she allowed a servant to bring a bath for her. However, she sent the woman away when she offered to wash Catelyn's hair for her. More than anything, Catelyn just wanted to be alone and think through everything that had transpired over the past three moons and take stock of her current situation.

As she scrubbed herself she thought back to her conversation with Robb. She had told him of everything that had transpired since they had been apart save what he already knew from the letters they had exchanged. He told her that he would have her go back to Winterfell with Ser Rodrik, but she had declined stating that she would go south with them to see her Lord Father at Riverrun. She would send Ser Rodrik back as Castellan of Winterfell to assist Maester Casales. Catelyn took solace in that the young man had been sent to them allowing Maester Luwin to come south with Robb to tend to injuries and give wise counsel.

Catelyn had asked if Robb had had word of Sansa and Arya to which he responded he had gotten a letter. "It's old. Based on the date, this is before they attempted to execute Father. And I have heard nothing since then. Witnesses at the Sept… the talk is that Sansa fainted and has not been seen outside the Red Keep since. I.. I do not even know if she is okay." And she had heard the still-boy in his voice, fears and doubts creeping in. He took a breath to steady himself and continued. "That doesn't even begin to explain the strange tales coming out of King's Landing about how Father survived."

Robb had then briefly explained a tale that Catelyn would have been completely incredulous to the authenticity of if not for the fact that the number of witnesses was so astoundingly large.

She had asked to see the letter and was able to see at a glance that Robb had clearly crumpled it in frustration a number of times. Spreading it on the table, Catelyn read it quickly and recognized that the letter might be written in Sansa's hand, but it was not the way her eldest daughter spoke. No, this letter was from Cersei Lannister. It brought with it only terror and grief — they had Sansa and had no intention to return her. Moreover, Arya was not even mentioned; what was she to make of that? She felt Grey Wind put his giant head in her lap and petted him, grateful for the comfort.

Catelyn had admitted that with the decisions Robb had made, his only hope was to try to defeat his foes. There was no hope of him ever leaving King's Landing if he went and swore fealty.

"Like grandfather and uncle Brandon." Robb had said, anger flashing in his eyes as he crumpled the letter agin.

"Yes," Catelyn had said with tired sigh. "Could you not make your stand here? Kings of old have been able to defeat hosts much larger than their own using the defenses of Moat Cailin. It has never been taken by the South."

"Believe me, I considered that. But, I do not think we have enough provisions to make our stand here. And that is if Lord Tywin comes so far. Lord Galbert, Lord Reed, and Lord Bolton say Lord Tywin is too smart to try an invasion from a south given its lack of success for thousands of years. Instead, he has been invading the Riverlands, burning as he goes. He means to continue it until only Riverrun stands alone, and with winter coming and no promise of a long autumn…"

Catelyn had nodded, dread continuing to fill her. "I am sure you have had many ideas put forth by excellent, experienced Lords."

"I have," Robb had confirmed.

"So, what is it you mean to do, son?"

Robb had pulled out a map and pointed out his battle plan. "I have no intention of swinging around Lord Tywin's host and winding up caught between he and the Kingslayer. And we will take too many losses if we attack him directly in any case. We must fight smarter rather than harder. Instead, I would leave Lord Reed in command here along with a small force of archers — that would secure the Neck. Then, past the Neck, I could split my host in two — those on foot could go on the Kingsroad and those mounted could cross the Green Fork at the Twins."

And of course Robb fully intended to take the more dangerous route of going with the mounted men. Catelyn had been able to feel her guts twisting inside her but had waited for him to continue. She saw one problem; he would be putting a river between his own host, but she would see him work it out for himself before she offered her thoughts. These were lessons he must learn, and quickly.

Robb had continued then, "I see what you are thinking, Mother. Yes, my host would be split, but so would The Kingslayer and Lord Tywin. They cannot cross the Green Fork above the Ruby Ford — it's impossible. The only place they could cross would be at the Twins. That is held by Lord Frey — your Father's bannerman."

"That does not mean we can trust him. The Freys have never before failed to exact a toll for those hoping to cross the bridge, and I highly doubt we will be the exception. Moreover, my Father has never trusted Lord Frey," Catelyn had pointed out.

"I will not trust him, but I believe it is the best option we have — toll or not." Robb had admitted with a small sigh. "And if we pay his toll, and we set some of our own conditions — for example we could take a son as our ward at winterfell — and we also take into account that he is your father's bannerman," He paused and then finished, "that should be sufficient to ensure he does not turn his cloak on us, no?"

"It is a risk," Catelyn had said slowly, "But, I.. Yes. I see your sense in going about it this way. It is also not what Tywin Lannister will expect from a green boy."

Robb's lips at her approval pulled up into a smile, "Exactly."

Catelyn had finally allowed herself a laugh and pulled Robb into her arms once more. "Your father raised you well. I am proud of you, my sweet Robb."

Robb had let her hold him for only a second before freeing himself from her grasp. "Mother," He had protested, his cheeks flaming in embarrassment.

"My apologies. You must forgive a foolish, old Mother her foibles."

"You are neither old nor foolish, Mother. And I love you." He had said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her cheek (when had he gotten taller than her?) "But we had best both get some sleep. Lord Manderly's men arrived yesterday, and we have been making plans to leave. We ride on the morrow. I am sorry you will have no more time to rest…"

"I will rest in Riverrun when I have seen my Lord Father." Catelyn had told him, drawing once more on the reserves of strengths that she could only pray would not run dry before this was done.

"Until the morrow then. I would have one of the Greatjon's men escort you to your chambers."

"On the morrow then, and I would be appreciative." She had paused once more at the doorway and turned back to him. "Robb," she paused again, clearly trying to find her words and Robb was, for a moment, horrified to think she might cry, but she didn't. "I am so very proud of you. Your father would be as well."

Satisfied with all they had planned, Catelyn turned herself to finishing her bath before the water became cold and then sought out her bed. She was weary enough she knew she would sleep despite her worries.

He was running. He was running! He was running for real and for true this time!

Not only was he running but his brothers and sisters were beside him — all save one. That had never happened before. They had never run together as a grown pack! How long had it been since they had all been together? How many moons had come and gone in the night sky above them since he had been with his pack? Too many. He needed them. They needed each other. They were far stronger together than apart. And they needed their humans with them too. Their humans were part of their pack as well. They were one with them too, human and wolf. They thought and ran as one — again, all save one.

The wisps of fog wrapped around them like specters as they ran, paw pads utterly silent across the frost-covered ground. It was no matter, their glowing eyes could penetrate the fog with ease. It only served as beauty, a beauty only fitting for winterfell. They ran through the Wolfswood free, strong, beautiful, together.

They could have run for hours; he did not know. But, finally, they ended up on a pile on the ground. They play growled and made happy whines at each other, rolling all over each other, nipping and tugging and tussling as they had done as small puppies. They were not small anymore, but it was no less enjoyable to play and romp together. Nymeria nuzzled Summer's face. Grey Wind and Ghost rolled and tumbled, play fighting each other for the dominant position though they all knew it belonged to Nymeria anyway.

Shaggydog held back from them, hesitant, fearful. He sat back on his haunches, yawned, and his tongue licked out showing his nervousness.

Summer looked at him with pain in his eyes as he remembered it would have been Lady, the gentlest of them, who would have gone to reassure him. Summer went instead moving toward Shaggydog, curving into a C of friendly politeness, of reassurance and then gave a gentle play bow to the black wolf, cocking his head to the side. You can trust us. You can play with us. We are your pack. The huge black direwolf looked at him; then, ever so slowly, he wagged his tail once. Summer leaped and yipped in excitement, rolling to his back to further demonstrate that Shaggydog was safe. Suddenly Shaggydog was on him, rolling and licking his face as joy radiated from him. They rolled and played as Grey Wind and Ghost did, under the light of a waning crescent moon that would soon again be new.

Nymeria broke from them while Summer had distracted himself with Shaggydog and moved across the clearing to follow the scent to what they had come for. Nymeria saw her piled on the ground. She seemed to be made of gleaming silver. She looked too tired to move. She was beautiful in her slightly glowing light. But Nymeria could see at a glance how badly she was hurt. A vicious cut ran along her flank, deep to the bone. Her breathing was slow, so was the sound of her heart. She was so weak, so hurt, so broken. Nymeria began to lick her sister's face, trying to rouse her from the sleep she could fall into forever. From the sleep that could take her and Sansa from them forever.Lady let out a piteous whine at the lightest of touches, but Nymeria had to. She could not let her go. No! They needed each other! But she could not do it alone.

Nymeria sat back on her haunches and howled to the moon, to her pack, to get their attention. Play could come again later. Lady could not wait much longer. She lingered, barely breathing, seeping her bonded's strength to keep from being gone forever. If this shade body too was gone or her bonded gone they would lose her. Nymeria could not bear it. She could not, would not lose her sister. She howled again.

Before long, the play was over and the others of the pack ran toward them through the trees, easily following the scent they had left behind and the scent of Lady's blood. So much blood, Ghost realized. It was not good. But he held back unsure. His Bonded had always been unsure of Lady's and he mirrored it with Lady herself. Nymeria licked and licked, overcome with guilt as Shaggydog sidled nervously beside Summer. Nymeria howled again, demanding. She could not do this alone. They must be brave. Lady was brave, surely they all could be too.

Finally, they came together some boldly and some hesitantly but together nonetheless and began to lick her. Though she was only made of something like light, they could still feel her fur beneath their tongues. They licked, whined, pawed in some mixture of desperation and encouragement both. At first, she did not have the strength. She lifted a paw over her face to avoid their tongues and whimpers, for she did not have the strength to crawl away from them. She did not have the strength to fight and her whimper, her sadness showed it.

But she had to, she had to, Nymeria insisted with her licks. She nosed Lady's paw away from her head and began again.

It was Ghost, to the pack's surprise, who laid beside Lady as Nymeria licked her muzzle and head. Slowly, with some hesitance as he did not know her reaction, Ghost began to lick away the blood from her flank. He cleaned and cleaned her with such gentleness as he could manage so he would not cause her further harm. Even then, she occasionally let out a pained yelp and he would look up at her in concern before going back to licking, helping her.

Finally, he laid his great head and paws across her shoulder so he would not be too close to her wound. He felt the energy between them. He felt the connection that was always there within the pack. The connection that was so much stronger when they were together. It was stronger than it had ever been tonight — stronger than it had been any time since Winterfell, since home. He buried his muzzle in her thick fur and stayed still. He could feel his energy growing, could feel it helping Lady, could feel himself sharing his strength with her. She needed his strength and he had it to give. He was the biggest and strongest of the pack.

His strength filled her and he watched as her side began to knit itself together once more. It was not perfect. It was not strong, not yet.

It was a start.

Tully blue eyes snapped open in the darkness of an unfamiliar room.

In that exact moment, so did three more sets of Tully blue and two of Stark grey

AN:

Up next: Can Sansa handle the pressure as things in King's Landing worsen?