Brienne stood in the shadows watching the men in the yard below, their armor glinting dully in the grey morning light as they prepared their horses. Propping one arm up against the cold stone next to the window, she shook her head briefly trying to throw off the sleep that fought to take her.

She'd barely slept in three days, keeping a near constant vigil. She'd abandoned her post once when Stannis had ridden with his depleted army for Winterfell, and Lady Sansa had almost paid the price with her life. She would not make the same mistake again.

Brienne straightened as Littlefinger appeared in the yard below, pulling on black gloves as he made his way toward his men. He was dressed in dark green brocade, a fine black cloak streaming behind him supple as a shadowcat. As he turned his face upward to the battlements above, the smile that played across his face made Brienne's stomach turn. He had the look of an alley cat after a fresh kill.

After speaking briefly with one of his men, Littlefinger mounted his horse in one swift motion. He seemed fresh and full of energy despite the nights…exertions. Brienne tried not to remember the sounds that she'd heard coming from Lady Sansa's chamber as she'd kept her watch in the hall.

Sansa was in grave danger — of that Brienne was certain. And she'd invited her enemy into her very bed. How Littlefinger had managed it in so short a time, Brienne could not be certain, but she found herself wishing, not for the first time, that she'd cut him down in Mole's Town when she'd had the chance.

As the men rounded up their mounts, the gate began to rise, the new wood of the rebuilt door standing in stark contrast to the soot stained stones of the castle walls. Littlefinger rode out first flanked by two of his men. The Wildlings would follow later in the day.

Even as the gate was lowered back into place, Brienne stood in the tower window, unable to tear herself away. She watched the road below until Littlefinger and his men appeared from behind the shadow of the wall making their way between the squat houses of the Winter Town.

For days she had been watching Littlefinger and seen nothing of note, save his unsettling fixation on Lady Sansa, and yet, Brienne swore she felt a shift in him. It was slow and subtle, it coiled darkly inside him like a viper. She felt it in her blood that he would strike soon.

It would be a relief to have him outside the castle walls for a few days. Perhaps she could find a way to speak to Sansa, to make her see reason. At the very least it was a few day's rest from her watch.

The Knights of the Vale were silver dots now as they reached the edge of town with Littlefinger in the lead, his black cloak streaming behind him. As they disappeared behind the inn, the last of the buildings at the edge of the village, Brienne felt herself relax for the first time in days. He was almost gone. She would watch him until he reached the horizon and then she would sleep. And with sleep, perhaps, would come the answer.

But as the men reappeared past the inn, Littlefinger was missing. Brienne counted the men, and counted them again, her eyes searching for his streaming black cloak, but he was gone. Brienne took off down the twisting stairs at a run before she had even fully formed the thought. She had to know where he had gone.

Brienne slowed herself as she reached the yard below, willing herself to move at a more casual pace. Littlefinger's men still haunted the castle even in his absence. She had to be careful not to raise suspicions.

She made her way to the stables, waving off the stable boy and quickly saddling her horse herself. As soon as she was mounted she made her way to the gate, waving as casually as she could to the men on the battlements.

"An errand for Lady Stark," she called up to them. The one with the salt and pepper beard nodded down to her and motioned for the gate to be raised.

As soon as she was past the gates, Brienne cut to her left, making her way down a side street that was barely more than alley, racing as quickly as she dared parallel to the main road. As she approached the inn, she dismounted quickly, tying her horse to a post out of sight of the door.

Silently, she crept around the side of an abandoned hovel. The Winter Town had already begun to fill up as the snows began to fall, but here and there at the edge of town still stood empty houses. Brienne tested the door and it opened easily. Looking over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't followed, she slipped inside.

The ramshackle house was empty save a wooden bucket in the corner and a rotten log that sat frozen in the hearth. The dirt floor crunched beneath her boots as she moved to the back window. Carefully avoiding the morning light that slanted through the filthy glass, she peered out.

The inn was still mostly dark. Only the lights from the kitchen blazed orange through the early morning light, the chimney smoke etching shadows against the sky. Brienne watched carefully, but saw no one except the kitchen servants moving about inside readying breakfast.

"Where are you?" she whispered aloud, her breath hanging in the air.

And then she saw it — the glimmer of a fire in the window of the highest room. The heavy curtains had been pulled, but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could see the faintest hint of light filtering through the seam. Someone was awake. Was that person with Littlefinger?

Brienne stood silently, her eyes barely blinking as she watched the inn. Why had he stopped here? Who was he meeting with? Why such secrecy? Brienne couldn't be sure, but her intuition twisted darkly. She couldn't say how, but she knew this was it. Littlefinger was making his move.

But what was it? Her fist clenched in the dark.

Suddenly Littlefinger appeared at the door of the inn, his flashing eyes sweeping the from left to right as he emerged, clearly not wishing to be spotted. He stole along the side of the inn and lithely mounted his horse. Brienne stepped back into the shadows as he rode by, his angular features cutting a chilling profile, his black cloak streaming behind him.

The light caught his face as he neared the hovel where she hid, and the small twisted smile that played across his lips made Brienne's blood turn to ice.

Author's Note: I know, I know. I am trash for not updating in months. Things in my life got kind of crazy and I ended up selling my worldly possessions so that I can spend 2017 traveling the world. The goal is to get this story wrapped before then. I know that this chapter is short and not the juicy update you were probably hoping for, but I promise that a LONG Jon chapter is coming sometime in the next 48 hours, and it's going to be a fun one.