Sansa had scarcely begun to gather her thoughts after Lady Lyanna's departure, when she heard voices outside her door. She groaned inwardly, wondering who would come through it next. The wildlings kept mostly to themselves, rarely bothering her, but the northern lords and ladies kept up a constant stream of requests. They all wanted food, better accommodations in the main keep or in Winter town, and her attention and favor most of all. Whether they liked it or not, she still held the reins of power in the castle while Jon whiled his days away with Daenerys and the dragons. She heard he had begun to ride Rhaegal; it must be a sight to see, but she hadn't had time lately for anything but work. In fact, she realized she had hardly been outside for weeks, and the thought of fresh air and soft snow made her wistful for the days when she had walked the grounds daily, visiting the godswood and Winter town.
As these thoughts passed through her mind, Brienne swung the door open, and Tyrion Lannister entered, a guarded expression on his face. Sansa felt herself flush, she had been avoiding him since their last meeting in the Godswood and here he was to confront her. She knew it was unladylike to give one's guests the cold shoulder, but she was afraid to let him get too close to her.
Here I am struggling to feed my own people, the northern coalition falling apart around me, and no idea of how to fix any of it. Meanwhile, Tyrion has already been hand to two rulers. He's been all over the seven kingdoms and now he's traveled all the way to Essos and back. If he finds out I can't even keep the North safe and united, he'll think I'm still a stupid little girl. He'll tell Daenerys and she'll tell Jon and everyone will know I'm failing…
Sansa forced the desperate thoughts overtaking her mind to cease for the moment. She had to present a strong front, she had to maintain control and stay two steps ahead or she would lose this game. There was no reason to let Tyrion know the full depths of her problems; it was none of his business. He probably didn't care about the northmen's problems anyway. She did her best to hold a calm expression on her face, and finally met his eyes with hers.
"Lord Tyrion, how unexpected, may I be of service to you?"
He shifted on his feet and paused for a moment before speaking.
"Lady Sansa, I hope I do not disturb you, there are some matters I would like to discuss…if you have a moment to spare?"
He looked at her questioningly. She paused, trying to detect some hint of ulterior purpose in his eyes or posture. Seeing none, she stood and gestured toward the chairs arranged on the other side of her desk. She would play the part of a gracious lady; she could do that well enough until she found out what he wanted from her.
"Of course, please come in and be seated my lord."
As he chose a chair and seated himself across from her, she thought for a moment that he looked almost sheepish, though she couldn't imagine why.
"Lady Sansa, I have been most impressed by your stewardship of Winterfell and the northern alliances. I thought we might…"
He paused again, looking increasingly uncomfortable.
"Well, I suppose I thought you might be of some help to me. If I can be perfectly candid, the southern forces are not so unified in purpose as the North, and we find ourselves struggling to adapt to the northern climate."
He had blurted the words out so quickly, she was sure they must have been rehearsed several times. She had never seen him so nervous. In King's Landing, Sansa had always thought of Tyrion as clever and in control. Even when he drank himself into a stupor he could maintain his dry wit. She had never seen cracks appear in his façade the way she did now.
"What I mean is that we, and I as hand to the queen, need to reinforce our alliances with House Stark if we mean to survive here and keep our armies intact in the coming months."
Sansa was stunned. He was asking her for help? How could he not see that she barely had her own head above the water just managing her own problems? She couldn't begin to imagine what she could do about his. This was not the conversation she had anticipated, and she was slow to reply.
Finally, she managed to respond. "Lord Tyrion, I'm flattered that you think me a worthy ally. Of course House Stark is a loyal supporter of Queen Daenerys, but I'm sure you know supplies are stretched rather thin at the moment, I may not have much more help to offer."
"Yes, they are stretched rather thin. I'm afraid that is only the beginning of our problems. Our men are complaining of the cold and the meager rations, so many of them are used to warmth, and they are growing hungrier by the day. The Dothraki are better accustomed to scarce times in the desert, but they have the most difficulty staying warm. I'm afraid the conditions are affecting morale. The Unsullied will never defect, but the Dothraki are not used to having a queen, least of all one who brings them to a strange, inhospitable land. I'm worried about the restlessness among them. If there is any more food to be had my lady, or better accommodations, or perhaps more furs, I'm sure the Queen would be very grateful."
With every word he spoke, Sansa felt a sense of panic grow and overtake her chest. It weighed on her and stifled her breath as she thought of the growing needs of their combined armies. She didn't have any more to give, her own people were on the brink of abandoning her and now Queen Daenerys wanted more? She felt so small and useless, she had carved out a place of power and influence so painstakingly and now it was slipping through her fingers. All she could think of was Lord Baelish telling her to fight every battle, but there was a new battle every day.
Suddenly, unbidden and to her great horror, Sansa felt tears welling in her eyes and a great sob rose from her throat. She stifled the rising emotion and quickly dried her eyes but it was too late to hide that first sob. She had shown her cards, and now she would be negotiating from a position of weakness.
"Sansa…I, I'm sorry, have I said something wrong?"
Tyrion reached across the table to tentatively place his hand over hers, a look of concern and confusion on his face.
Sansa quickly snatched her hand away from him and rose from her chair, retreating to the edge of the room and forcing down the rising panic. She knew she was botching the whole conversation. She had humiliated herself in front of the Queen's hand and the whole castle would soon know how weak she was.
"Sansa, what is the matter, what did I say?"
"I must apologize Lord Tyrion, I lost my composure for a moment, you really must forgive me, it's most undignified."
She turned and quickly settled back into her seat behind the desk. She squared her shoulders and steeled her gaze, willing herself to look strong. She would wrap this up quickly and hope Tyrion kept his mouth shut about her embarrassing outburst.
"I am sorry, my lord, but there really are no more supplies to be had, I'm sure you must see the last months have not been so easy on the northerners either."
"My lady, surely there must be some reserves, perhaps they are being held for an emergency. But please, I must impress upon you that this is an emergency, we are truly in dire straits."
"Lord Tyrion, I am sorry for my own sake and yours that there is no secret cache of supplies. We are reaching the end of our stores and the snows are much too deep for supply wagons to travel. If you think I am unaware of the dire straits we are in, you must think me very foolish indeed."
He looked at her, the disbelief on his face giving way to confusion
"You are saying that the cellars and storerooms are completely exhausted? My lady, I saw them myself when I visited years ago with King Robert. The catacombs below Winterfell are vast, and the Starks have always kept them well stocked for winter, how can there be nothing left?"
Sansa felt latent anger rising in her as she thought of just how diminished the stores of Winterfell had become.
"Yes, Lord Tyrion, Winterfell was always kept well supplied by my father, he took great care to ensure the survival of his people through winter and lean times. The Starks have never failed in their duty of protection to the northern people. The Boltons however, were not so dutiful in their tenure as Wardens of the North. We have all seen the damage done to the structures and furnishings of the castle; let me assure you the destruction extends through Winterfell's storerooms as well. Any supplies my father laid by in the summer have been destroyed by the monsters your father sent to rule over my people."
Sansa's words were seething with anger and resentment. She hadn't meant to become so heated, but Tyrion had inadvertently touched upon a painful wound. The Bolton's had nearly destroyed her family and their home, now she wondered if she would be the first Stark to fail in leading the northern people safely through winter.
Tyrion was momentarily stunned into silence, but quickly recovered himself and rose from his chair.
"Lady Sansa, I see we share the same problems, and that they are much more dire than I first imagined. I propose a joining of forces; if we work together we are far more likely to find a solution. If I return tomorrow morning, are you willing to meet with me again?"
She wasn't sure what he thought they would accomplish, but she could hardly turn down Daenerys' second in command if he wanted to meet with her.
"You are the Queen's Hand, I am the Lady of Winterfell, I will meet with you whenever you like Lord Tyrion."
With that, he inclined his head in a shallow bow and took his leave of her.