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CHAPTER 24

SANSA

Please, help us. Let us win this battle so we can finally have peace…

Her whole body was numb. Snow burned under her knees and the snowflakes had begun to settle over her hair, yet she remained. It had been four days since Sansa had convinced her brother to let her go pray in the Godswood near the Wall. Four long and restless days since the army had left—since he left. Everything seemed quieter now without the rustling that had accompanied life at Castle Black the weeks before the departure; quieter and emptier than ever. King Stannis remained at the Wall with his family and a great part of his men, Grenn continued training the boys everyday in the courtyard, the wildings that stayed behind continued to rebuild the castle, even dinners went by in the main Hall as usual; but she didn't enjoy sharing those moments anymore with the rest of the inhabitants of the castle. Her thoughts were for the men she had sent to war, trusting only her word and strategy while she waited behind, and it made her feel in a state of constant unease. She had heard the men speak of the little Godswood beyond the Wall and finally gathered the courage to ask Jon to let her go to pray to the Old Gods of their father. He had refused at first, arguing that it was too dangerous, but Sansa was stubborn and he had finally yielded. Her escort to the place was worthy of a queen: Four men of the King, four northerners and five wildings, including a spear woman, each group determined to protect their vested interests. Although she was used people who sought to protect her for what she represented and not for herself, it still saddened her. Only Pyp and Satin were there simply because they knew the way.

Please, protect the men that left to fight for me because they are fighting for the right cause…

The moment was so like the moment before the Blackwater Bay Battle, a lifetime ago at King's Landing. Then, she had prayed for the men that were going to die, for her family, for the Imp and even for the Hound. Now, she had no family and no husband to care for, but there were now many men who relied on her, and he was still by her side.

Please, lead the northerners to victory, so our beloved ones that had died by Bolton's and Frey's hands can rest in peace. Protect the King's men, because although this war isn't theirs, they are fighting it bravely nevertheless. Protect the wildlings that trusted my word so they can have a new place to live and so they can help us to rebuild the North.

She even prayed for the Night Watch; Give them strength and courage. Though the rest of the Seven Kingdoms have almost forgotten them, they are still defending this Realm. Take care of my brother, my only sibling left, and ease the burden on his shoulders. He and his men are the only ones keeping us safe from the dreadful horrors that come from beyond the Wall and menace us all. And please, save him. You have already taken all the ones I loved from me. Don't take him too; don't let Sandor die far from me. Let him know a better day, let him know what happiness is. Let us enjoy the rest of our lives together…

"My Lady, we need to go. The snow is beginning to fall heavily," Pyp finally dared to interrupt her thoughts.

Sansa stifled a sob and finally rose with the help of the boy. She looked around; they were several miles away from the Wall, surrounded by nothing but ancient trees and a thick white blanket of snow, and she realized how far she had gone in a journey that, despite his will, had been in her life. How many women of the Seven Kingdoms had been beyond the Wall, as she was now? How many had tried to achieve such ambitious plans as hers? No one. And she wished with all her heart that the Old Gods were in her favor, as there was no turning back for her.

Countless generations of women had gone before her; waiting patiently behind for their lord husbands, their sons, their brothers to return home safe and sound, waiting for a message, a letter, any news from them. Worried and sleepless, they prayed the old gods and the new to keep their men safe. Sansa wondered how her Lady Mother had borne the endless wait for her father to come back from King Robert's war, then from Balon Greyjoy's rebellion after that. Lady Catelyn had always been a strong woman before her eyes, never allowing worry to reach her face in front of her sons. Sansa now perfectly understood what she had endured, because she felt the same gnawing fear and anxiety her mother might have experienced. Night and day, the constant knot in her stomach threatened to steal her breath. She lived in continuous concern, sick with worry and unease, wandering Castle Black for a useful task to occupy her time, any escape from the constant fear that she could never see Sandor again.

She began to spend more time with Queen Selyse and her daughter Shireen, a friendless girl that everybody at the Wall seemed to avoid because of the horrible disease that left her face disfigured. She was smart and kind, though her little face inevitably reminded her of a young Sandor, marked for life with those terrifying scars he had used to build walls between himself and the rest of the world. Shireen and Sandor had a very different childhood from her and her siblings… Sansa couldn't imagine more solitary children than them.

She also tried to occupy her time helping Hobb at the kitchen, watching Grenn and the boys training at the courtyard, visiting the armory and the stables or walking with Jon when his duties allowed him some spare time with her.

Every morning she visited the rookery, waiting in vain for news that still didn't arrive. Clydas was the black brother in charge of the place, and as he didn't seem to mind her company she began to extend her visits. Sansa usually watched him take care of the ravens that came and went with messages for the Lord Commander. Sometimes they talked about the birds or the weather, though most of the time she simply listened to him while he explained the properties of the herbs stored on the shelves, or told stories about Maester Aemon, the previous maester of the Wall and the last of the Targaryen's. She enjoyed his company and the opportunity to be away from the activity of the castle. It was during one of their conversations when Sansa finally dared to asked him to prepare some moon tea for her. She might have been a maiden until a few weeks ago, but she wasn't so naive not to know the consequences of lying with a man, nor how to avoid them.

Clydas looked surprised by the request before hurrying to his books to seek the combination of herbs the infusion required, finally handing her a little bag. "It'll be our little secret," he had promised, winking an eye at her.

"So, I guess I should only drink it with you," she had replied in the same confidential tone, to the clear delight of the man. While he rushed joyfully to boil some water, Sansa realized how kindness and confidence were the shortest path to a man's heart. She had instinctively believed it when she was younger, but it wasn't until she had left the Quiet Isle with Sandor, having the opportunity to be herself with the people she encountered, that she had found confirmation. She had won the respect and love of the Night Watch's men, the King's soldiers and even quite a few of the wildings by treating them with respect, listening to them or simply providing levity to their nights with her songs. Love and respect were power, power of a kind that flowed from her naturally. Cersei was wrong, she had always been wrong.

Those moments served to distract her from her worries temporarily, but as soon as the moment passed her mind flew again to the men that were on the road to fight the battle she had fueled. She wondered where every party was at that particular moment, if the snow would allow them safe passage, if they were well fed. Most of the time her prayers were for all the men that would never return to their homes. War had taken her family home, and war should return it to her. While she wished for another way, it was clear that this was her only chance. It has to work. It has to work…

During the day Sansa waited patiently for events to develop as planned, but it was at night, in the loneliness of her little room, when she finally allowed her anguish to flow. She missed him, night and day. She missed him so badly that sometimes she wondered how it was possible to live without him by her side. His absence left a hole inside of her, as if someone had torn out a piece, leaving her incomplete, unfinished. Though she tried to maintain an air of confidence before her people it somehow felt wrong to be breathing and smiling, and chirping words of courtesy, when Sandor was risking his life for a cause that had little enough to do with him. She couldn't even think of the possibility of him failing to return to her. What importance would recovering Winterfell have if she couldn't share it with him? Who would care about her if he was gone? Who would keep her safe, hold her when she felt tired, or comfort her in his arms? Sansa had no regard for the rest of her life if she was unable to share it with him. Her mind reeled with worry in the quiet of the night.

Come back to me, please, you have to come back… was the litany she prayed every night.

It wasn't until the seventh night that she finally gathered the courage to reenter the cell that had been Sandor's room during his stay at the Wall. Nothing remained to remind that he had ever lived there, save for an old shabby tunic that he left thrown over the back of the only chair in the room. She took it and rubbed the rough fabric with trembling fingers until she had to sit down the cot. Oh Sandor, what am I going to do if you leave me? How could I keep going without you? She cried to the night, clutching the cloth to her chest as hot tears reached her eyes. She lay on the bed, curled where they had loved for the last time, dreaming he was there again with her, enclosing her tight between his strong arms and caressing her hair in that clumsy way he did to reassure her. I miss you so much… Please, be safe… Fight, make them fear you, make them respect you, take back my home, but come back to me again. We still have so much to live for, so much to discover, so many things to enjoy… and I don't want to do any of it without you. Let me fully reach the man I know you are, we still have so much to learn together… Give me a chance to make you happy, to soothe day by day, little by little, your fears, your anxieties. Let me build a place for us that you can call your home, where we can spend the rest of our lives caring and loving each other. I don't mind how high my birth is or how low yours is, I don't care about alliances, or politics or blood lines, I'll find a way to get it. I just want you to be the last person I see every night before falling asleep and the first one when I wake up every morning. Show me what you like about women in bed, what arouses you, what words you like me to whisper in your ear when you're making love to me, or how I should touch every part of your body to make you shiver and turn you on. I never thought that would happen to me, but I've fallen madly and irrevocably in love with you. Maybe I'd never stop being a silly little bird, dreaming about true knights and believing in true love. We deserve it Sandor, we deserve it as much as anyone else does and I'm going to fight for it. But for this to happen, I need you to survive and come back to where you belong: next to me…

"This is amazing Jon…" Sansa whispered breathless as she walked next to her brother on top of the Wall, the only place she had yet to visit. Ghost walked silently before them, running forward from time to time just to come back to play between their legs. Despite the cold and her troubled mind, she had to admit that the view she was now contemplating was one of the most spectacular her eyes would ever see. Once again, she wondered how many women had had the opportunity to experience what she was living.

"Everything that reaches your eye north of the Wall is the Haunted Forest, and beyond it lie the Lands of Always Winter." Jon explained to her, "And if you look south, you can see the North, the lands of Winterfell's dominion."

Sansa looked south intently, as if trying to make out the keep on the horizon, "I'm very worried Jon, it's already been ten days since they left and we still don't have any news…"

"I know it's hard to wait, but it's still soon. Such large groups of men usually ride slowly and there are many miles to cover between Castle Black and the Dreadfort, and even more to Winterfell. You must keep hope, Sansa. Also, if anything had gone wrong, I'm sure we'd already know, believe me."

She sighed, trusting with all her heart in her brother's words, and interlaced her arm with his as they continued walking. "I hope you're right… There are days when I find simply waiting here completely unbearable. I feel idle and useless and also…" the words died on her lips before saying them.

"You miss him, don't you? Clegane."

Sansa nodded, surveying the vast lands spread before them, unable to look him in the eye. "I still can't believe he has gone to fight for something he doesn't care about, even if it's to help me. There were plenty of men for that mission; he should have stayed here with me, where I really need him."

"I see that despite how smart you've proven yourself, you still don't understand him, my pretty, stubborn sister," the Lord Commander replied to Sansa's surprise. "Don't you see that he needed to lead that assignment to earn his place next to you? Who is he to your bannermen but a former Lannister man? To them, he has nothing but your trust in him and a sword. And to their eyes it's not enough to make him worthy of you. Sansa, he has gone to fight for you and just for you, to win your men's respect on the battlefield, where a man defines himself. Only that way could he remain next to you in Winterfell if that's what the gods have decided. Your men have gone to war to get revenge, to earn new land or to bring peace to the North. Clegane is fighting simply to win you."

She let her brother's words slowly sink into her mind, "But he didn't need to do it, he had already won me…"

"Unfortunately, that is not enough in our society," Jon continued, "He is still too lowborn to have a special place by your side. I'm sorry, Sansa, but I fear there are things that will never change."

"I guess so… Jon, how long do you think it will be until the northern houses begin to vie for my hand? What will I do then?"

"If you rebuild Winterfell, it won't take long. In fact, I'm surprised that you've managed to get so far in your quest without a betrothal!"

"I won't do it. I've already been married to someone I didn't love, I won't let it happen again."

"So, what are you going to do when your bannermen ask for a Stark heir? You're the last one of our family."

"I'll have children, but with someone of my own choosing."

Jon stopped looking gravely at her, "You are aware that you can't marry him, aren't you? They won't let that happen."

"But what is life worth it if we can't spend it with our loved ones? You've loved someone you shouldn't, brother. I've heard the stories about… her…"

Then it was Jon who had to glance away. His face saddened, suddenly overwhelmed by his memories. "Ygritte," he finally muttered.

"Who was she?"

"She was… she looked…" he shook his head trying to find the words to describe the woman he once loved, "she taught me to watch the world with other eyes. With her, I learned to question what I'd believed my whole life. And I'm still learning, Sansa, because she was right, there are so many things I don't know yet…"

"What happened to her?" she dared to ask softly.

"She died in my arms the day the wildlings attacked Castle Black. You're the first person who has asked me about her since then. To the Night Watch she was just another dead wilding, one who made me break my vows, but for me…" his voice broke, "I still wondered if I did the right thing leaving her…"

"I'm really sorry Jon," she said as she put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Maester Aemon told me once that love was our great glory and our great tragedy, and I tell you, my memories of her will be with me for the rest of my life…"

The Lord Commander nodded sadly, lost in his memories and Sansa thought about how hard and lonely the life her brother had chosen was; a life of dedication to the Realm, always setting aside his own feelings. She stepped closer and embraced him.

"So you know Jon," she whispered softly, "Even if love isn't in our plans, if it's meant to be, it happens all the same…"

He returned the embrace and they gave comfort to each other until they resumed their walk.

It had been twenty days when the first raven addressed to Sansa Stark arrived at Clydas' rookery. She was there with him, as every morning, when he man handed her the small roll of paper with trembling hands after reading her name. She took a seat before unrolling it, fearing and hoping about its content mixed at the same time.

Lady Sansa,

It has been a week since our army arrived at the surroundings of Winterfell. As planned, we didn't camp close to the castle, so as not to raise suspicion, but we do have the keep closely watched night and day. Four days ago our men saw a raven arriving at Winterfell, though we didn't know where it came from or what it conveyed. The next day three riders came from the Dreadfort: a wilding, Ryswell and Sandor Clegane. Bolton's castle has yielded, my lady. The party lead by Clegane and our brave northerners took it several days ago with the help of the wildings, as you had said. They have freed the prisoners of its dungeons and sent there the few of Bolton's men whom survived the assault. Clegane says Tormund has taken control of the Dreadfort and it's secure. The raven we saw must be one of the last ones they were able to send asking for help from Roose Bolton. Through our spies, we know that there's movement inside the castle walls so we hope Bolton's forces will leave soon to retake the Dreadfort as you predicted. Ser Robert Penrose sent a message reporting that King Stannis' knights are posted on the road to the keep, far enough so the Bolton forces can not run back to Winterfell when our men attack them. Clegane is staying here to help with the attack of the castle. He arrived here exhausted and completely covered in blood; I bet the man hadn't had a moment of rest after the Dreadfort battle. Our men still fear him, but there is no doubt that he is a great warrior and that the man is as eager as any to fight for Winterfell. He is already organizing the party that is going to lead the attack on Winterfell as soon as the main gate opens. Until then, we'll be ready, waiting for the sign to take the castle back for whom it belongs.

My Lady, I think the gods are in our favor to win this war. Please pray to the old gods to give courage to our men so that everything happens as planned and we can finally bring peace to the North.

Wyman Manderly, Lord of White Harbor

He is alive, Sansa's first thought was, he is alive! After a big sigh of relief, she focused on the rest of the content of Manderly's letter; her plan, their plan, was working; they had already taken the Dreadfort. That important victory would weaken Roose Bolton and his bastard son. She felt also proud of Tormund and his men; they had kept their word and had fought by her side, and now they were enjoying a well-deserved victory. Well done Tormund, if everything works out you've earned your land and we all can finally have some peace.

"Clydas, how long does it take a raven to fly from Winterfell to the Wall?" she asked.

"Ummm, with this weather and the snow… I'd say five days at least."

It was at least five days since lord Manderly wrote to her, but what had been happening during that time? Had Roose Bolton left the castle? Had the King's men attacked them? Without a clue as to what had happened since the raven flew, her fears began to rise again. I can't stay here anymore; idle as an old woman while they are out there fighting for me. I need to do something! Even if everything fails, I need to see Winterfell once more.

"Please, give me ink and paper," she asked the black brother, "I need to send a raven."

To Lord Manderly.

My Lord, receiving news from you has heartened me as nothing else could. The fall of the Dreadfort is a great victory, the first we have to achieve in order to win this war. I'm so proud of all our brave men! They are always in my heart and in my mind. Tell them I have prayed for them every day since you left to fight, and that I'm certain that the old gods will support our cause because it is the right one. Tell them also that I'm going with them. I'm aware of what we agreed, however, I can't wait here any longer, not when they are risking their lives for me. Maybe by myself am not much help, but I'll bring with me as many northern men and wildings as wish to join me in my journey to Winterfell. Maybe my presence will bring strength to their hearts. Don't let them think for a single moment that I have forgotten them. My place is now with them.

Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell

She was certain her brother wouldn't like the idea, but what else could she do? Waiting endlessly wasn't an option, not now that she knew they were so close to their goal. She took Manderly's letter and held Clydas' hand for a long moment before running to the Lord Commander's chambers.

Early in the morning of the next day, Sansa was on the road again, heading to Winterfell. Jon had been against the idea but yielded to her determination. Determination was something she now shared with the rest of her family. Since she was now precious to the different factions involved in the war, it hadn't been difficult to convince some of the men to accompany her. They had packed as quickly as possible and were ready to leave before sunrise. Saying goodbye to her brother and the men of the Night's Watch who had welcomed her when she had nothing and was nobody had almost broken her heart. I'll see you again, she had promised. Sansa would never forget the time she had spent at Castle Black, but now her place was elsewhere. Her place was at Winterfell, with her men and with Sandor.

A/N: This story is coming to an end! hope you enjoy these last chapters and please, let me know your opinion! :)