Sansa sees the man first. She had been admiring the tall, old tree and the dark silhouette its still-leafless branches against the background of the white sky as they rode slowly along the muddy path that is the Kings Road in early Spring. It stands out majestic and alone in the middle of a field of pale scrub grass and patches of snow, and she had been thinking that she had never travelled so far North before she thought she saw a body hanging from a branch. Her heart stops momentarily and then she realizes that she is not wrong.
"My lord," she calls to her husband. "My lord!"
"Hm? What is it, Sansa?" he asks as he turns in his saddle but when he glances to where she is looking he sees it too. "Blast," he swears suddenly. "You men come with me. Sansa wait here."
As they gallop off across the field, their horses' hooves kick up turf and snow. A man brings his mount up next to Sansa's and peers off after them.
"Is dead man?" he asks haltingly.
"Yes, Lord Magnar; the man is dead," she tells the young leader of the Thenns.
"I go," he announces shortly and follows after the others. After a pause, Sansa turns her heels to her mare's flanks and canters to join the group. They have stopped short of the large tree and are holding fast to their reins as their horses prance skittishly so close to the dead body. The Greatjon circles around it before dismounting his courser. He glances up as she approaches.
"You don't need to see this, Sansa: go back to the road."
"If it please you, my lord, we are still on Umber lands and so this man is under your protection," she notes, "and if he was hanged, it was without your authority."
His mouth turns up on one side in a sad, rueful smile. "So he was, Sansa; but he has hanged himself. There has been no crime against him or my right to pass judgement as lord." He kicks his foot against something hard on the ground. "A ladder," he observes, "and he is hanged with a strips of braided cloth and is hands are unbound, and there are no other footprints or hoof prints. He climbed up the ladder and knocked it over, I'll wager…poor wretch," he says sadly and shakes his head. "The crows have been at him too."
The man's face is dark, and what is left of his tongue hangs out. His eyes are gone as is some of the flesh of his cheeks. Sansa fells sick suddenly, as she remembers Joffrey forcing her to look at the heads of her father and of Septa Mordane mounted on the walls of the Red Keep.
"Did- did you know him, my lord?"
He looks around towards the nearby forest and grunts an affirmation. "I have met most of the commons hereabouts; but I can't tell the man by what's left of his face. Cut him down," he orders his own men. "We're approaching the last village on the King's Road before the New Gift: we'll ask about him when we stop for the night."
"Yes, m'lord," the red-haired young man from the garrison replies firmly; he dismounts and goes about his business with a grim face. He and other soldiers wrap the man's face in a length of burlap and sling his corpse over a horse tied to the back of a wagon.
They have been many days on the road riding North with the Thenns who are travelling from Karhold to Queen's Crown with their leader to settle in the New Gift now that Winter is ending. The Magnar of Thenn, named Sigorn, and his wife Lady Alys stopped at Last Hearth on their journey. The Greatjon welcomed them and spared fodder for their horses and for the livestock that some Karhold men and the Thenns were driving North with them. Sansa had been surprised to see that Lady Alys rode with them despite her pregnancy, and invited her to stay with them until her child was born. The girl smiled gratefully but refused her offer.
"You are very kind, Lady Umber; but the Thenn women work and ride when with child and so then must I," she tells her. "It is not so difficult as we have been led to believe; and my lord Magnar has insisted that we bring a midwife with us for the journey. I would like to birth our child in our own home," she blushes but with a shy pride; and Sansa is happy for her even as she feels a pang of jealousy and a sense of loss that she cannot become pregnant.
Nevertheless, the Magnar accepted their invitation to stay for several days to give his young wife time to rest; and Sansa was happy to have news of Arya and her twin nephews. She and Alys and Lyanna spent as much time together and Sansa was delighted to have so much female company after so many years alone. They even joined Serena and some wildling girls for their tea, and Sansa was encouraged to see little Gretel sit with them even if she did not join in and still had yet to speak any words to anyone.
When the Thenns were set to leave, the Greatjon surprised Sansa by announcing that they would ride part of the way North with them.
"It's time I got out and travelled my lands again after the long Winter; and my lady has never accompanied me. I hope you will not mind, Sansa?"
"I should be pleased and honoured to accompany you, my lord," she had replied, "but what of the children?" She had never left her children before.
"They will stay at Last Hearth. Berena is here, and will mind them; as will Smalljon and Lyanna and Uncle Hother."
"As you say, my lord," she replied gently. And so they set off, Sansa riding her grey mare and wearing sealskin boots and a new fur cloak gifted to her by the Magnar for their hospitality. The Greatjon has gifted him with arms and a number of the castle's best sheep from their flocks to drive North with the Thenns and breed for stock.
Once they arrive at the village, the innkeeper rushes out to meet his lord and the Greatjon draws him aside to ask about the dead man. After conferring quietly, he comes to join Sansa who has been watching and waiting by the door. He does not speak until they are sitting along the benches with those who are already eating and drinking.
"A huntsman. I knew him. His son died in the Whispering Wood; his wife died this Winter, the innkeeper says. He felt he had naught left but to toil and die alone and so he hastened his end himself," he tells her gravely. "He says they will bury him when the ground thaws more."
"That is sad, my lord, but…difficult to feel that you have lost all, and that you are alone in the world," she says softly. She remembers how she thought to throw herself from her window in the Red Keep after they killed her father; and then how she had run to the godswood in Winterfell to offer to die in his stead when he was missing.
"We're not alone: that's for certain," he tells her archly as the noise inside the inn grows louder. "I wish the man had come to me; we might have used him at the castle, and he could have found another wife," he muses lightly.
Sansa raises her eyes to him. "Mayhaps he felt that he would not be happy with another, my lord; some attachments are very deep and heartfelt."
He gazes steadily at her through the dinand activity in the room, and he begins to smile warmly. "That is true, Sansa: I'm a fool to think someone loved could be so easily replaced," he murmurs in his deep voice as he reaches to cover her slender hand with his.
The morning dawns cool and damp, with scattered clouds blowing overhead and the steady sound of the drip-drip of melting ice from the roof and windowsills of the inn and then late form tree branches. After riding for several hours they stop and her husband confers with the young Magnar before turning to her.
"Here is where we must say our goodbyes, Sansa. We have reached the boundary of the New Gift, and the Thenns will ride North without us…but I hope that you know that you shall always be welcome at Last Hearth," he intones.
The Magnar Sigorn nods and Lady Alys smiles at them. "We invite Lord and Lady Umber to visit our home…in Summer when you travel more easily," the young man tells them formally. "I swear me we make you greatly welcome."
"We would be honoured," the Greatjon replies firmly.
"…and delighted," Sansa adds. "Alys, I wish you every happiness in your new home and with your new family," she says to the girl who, like Arya, looks so very Northern with her dark hair and long face. "I shall pray the old gods to watch over you all."
As the Thenns begin to move forward up the Kings Road, Sansa expects that they will turn back: she and the Greatjon and an older, grey-bearded soldier of the garrison and the red-haired boy. But instead they turn off the Kings Road and ride for several more hours before the Greatjon stops again and looks around carefully.
"This is it," he tells the soldiers and points now between two large evergreens. "Follow me this way; you too, Sansa. We've a ways to go but we will arrive before dark."
Sansa is confused. "But…I thought we returned to Last Hearth, my lord-"
"We will, Sansa; after this one more night." He turns to smile at her now. "Indulge me, Sansa: I have not been this way for some years now."
She smiles back dutifully. "Of course, my lord," she replies though she is tired of travelling and wishes to return to their children, but she trusts him implicitly and so gathers the strength to continue. The remaining snows are deeper off the road and the travelling is slower, but the smell of the tall evergreens is sharper than on the Kings Road and the birdsong is clearer and sweeter and the young soldier notes fresh tracks heading into the forest.
"Rabbits, my lord: might I ask your leave-"
"Off you go, then," he tells the young man. "Good hunting," he adds heartily. They ride in silence for some time before he re-joins them with bloodied hares hanging from his saddle. The forest becomes denser and the sky grows overcast and greyer when they come to a clearing near the base of a hill. There is a stone cottage built into the base of the slope so that the roof is grown over with grass, and a stone and timber outbuilding nearer to the treeline next to a well. The Greatjon reins his courser and dismounts with a smile.
"Here we are; and the place looks no worse for wear," he steps to Sansa to help her down from her mare now. "See to the horses," he tells the soldiers as he nods to the outbuilding which Sansa realizes is a stable. Her husband looks expectantly at her.
"What is this place, my lord? You know it well," she observes.
"It's our hunting lodge…more of a cottage really, but the Umbers have hunted here for hundreds of years." He takes her hand and walks to the door of the stone cottage and pushes and then puts his shoulder to the door. The hinges creak loudly in protest but door flies open and he steps back. "Come," he enthuses.
The inside is dark and smells of damp and so the Greatjon fumbles for a flint and lights a candle inside a rusted lamp hanging inside the door. The faint candlelight shows a large stone hearth along a side wall, a neat woodpile and some rudimentary furnishings: a table and stools and a scarred chest with worn leather straps but no lock. Iron pots sit along the edge of the hearth and there is a bucket inside the door. The windows are shuttered tight so that no light comes in.
"We'll sleep in out bedrolls by the hearth, Sansa; just like we have in our chambers at the castle," he reassures her. "The men will bed down in the stable. It's only for the night," he continues when she does not reply, "I know it is not comfortable for a lady but I wished for you to see it, Sansa."
Something in his voice makes her turn to him curiously. "Did you, my lord?" she prompts gently.
"My father brought my brothers and I here to hunt, with Mors and his sons when they were boys," he begins, "and I brought my older sons and will bring Eddard soon." He looks around fondly and smiles at her again. "I confess I have been happier here at times than anywhere else in the known world, Sansa: no duties, no audiences with commons and no battles with enemies…just quiet, simple living off the land," he trails off.
"Your duties are many, my lord; it is right that you should enjoy some respite, particularly as Lord Jon is of an age and ability now to act in your stead."
"And he has a lady to act in your stead: do you mind, Sansa?"
"Not at all; in fact I quite enjoy her company…and mayhaps if, by your leave, I allowed her to have some more of my duties then I would have more time for study?'
"As you wish, my Sansa; I see no reason she should not train to ready herself for her role as Smalljon trains to ready himself for his. They will be Lord and Lady Umber one day…oh, but we have years, my Sansa," he enthuses again when he sees her smile waver, and she knows that he is not aware of his son's infidelity towards his new wife and so she smiles again for him.
Now the soldiers come and in bring the bedrolls and packs and Sansa rifles through them for their supply of bread and dried fruit. The red-haired young man drops his rabbits and the Greatjon helps to skin them for the spit to be cooked over the hearth fire. The older soldier helps Sansa to draw water from the well and they drink the cold water in turns from a ladle and pass around skins of wine and ale. There are tin plates on a shelf and musty liene towels in the chest and so they sit on their rolled-up furs to eat and talk.
"How did you learn to hunt?" Sansa asks the young soldier. She knows that he was a stable boy before volunteering to join the garrison.
"A-at the Wall, m'lady. There weren't enough t'eat for all them soldiers and wildlin's…so we set off huntin' for all we could find." He pauses uncomfortably. "That dead man, he reminded me o' th'Others a mite: they was eaten away too, but wit' dark hands and icy white faces an' fierce blue eyes."
They all fall quiet now; each with their unhappy thoughts of the horrors and losses of the war beyond the Wall.
"You were very brave to go," Sansa tells him, "and I was so very pleased to see you when you came to Winterfell to escort me home, and to know that you had returned safe."
"He came with Tormund to search for me beyond the Wall. Did you know that, Sansa?" her husband asks now.
"I did not, my lord. Then I am forever in your debt-"
"I- I wanted to be a soldier, m'lady; and Lord Umber, he let me an' trained me…I'm in your debt, and forever grateful to House Umber."
Sansa smiles at the lad and then the older soldier stands and says: "We best check on House Umber's horses now, then sleep so's to leave early tomorrow. G'night, m'lord…and m'lady."
When they are left alone together, the Greatjon sighs and looks at her.
"Are you certain that you don't mind staying, Sansa? I feel that I've sprung this on you without warning; but you've been so brave and strong on the ride North, I thought this would be no real hardship to you."
"I do not mind, my lord," she assures him and then looks around the small cottage at the timbered ceiling and the stone walls and the hearth giving warmth and the fire casting long dancing shadows across the room. "I believe I understand why you find this place peaceful: it is quiet, and there is little to distract."
He chuckles. "There is little to do, you mean, in the way of diversion. There is work to do though: chopping wood and drawing water and hunting and foraging for food. I don't fool myself we live as commons here for we come with provisions and sometimes soldiers and huntsmen…but I would come alone at times, just to be alone," he notes pensively. "I imagine that must seem indulgent: I'm a lord, with a lord's duties. I should not be running away…"
He looks to her now and smiles again. "I never thought I would want to run away here with a lady…my own lady wife," he mocks himself, "but I wanted it to be just us, Sansa."
She takes his hand now and smiles tenderly. "That is very romantic, my lord."
"Do I surprise you then, Sansa?"
"A little, my lord…" she confesses.
He leans to take her face in his big warm hands now and gazes on her. "Let me look at you now, Sansa; for I never tire of it," he murmurs and he strokes her hair back from her brow with the backs of his fingers and then traces the curve of her cheek with a fingertip as she gazes lovingly back into his eyes. "Gods…when you look at me that way, I almost feel…" he stops now.
"How do you feel? Tell me," she whispers.
"I feel…I feel that you truly do care for me, Sansa."
She tilts her head and gently places a soft and slender hand over his own hand on her cheek.
"I love you with all my heart, for you are everything brave and strong and kind and gentle," she almost croons to him. "You have the greatest heart, my lord: it is the greatest part of you…and should be the true reason you are styled Greatjon."
His brow furrows slightly though he also smiles. "Do you know, Sansa, that in all these years you have never called me that?"
She leans her forehead to his and whispers softly: "Will you kiss me now…my Greatjon?"