The screams were painful to endure. Luckily the feast in the Great Hall has just started so nobody was outside. But if there wouldn't be a feast, she was sure this could not be done. The screaming of Walton Frey was high-pitched and annoying, but Sansa knew it was worth it. Let him know just a little bit how it feels. The man was a few teeth poorer right now, but he wasn't really of much use. All Sansa could find out was that Roose Bolton was the one to finish her brother while saying 'Jaime Lannister sends his regards'. Upon hearing this, she was lost for a moment. The three Manderly soldiers in the tent answered this by breaking a few of the man's ribs. She tried so hard to regain her composure and find out something more, but after a while she gave in.

"Finish this quickly, please. I can't stand his screams a second longer."

After saying this, she turned on her heels and left the tent, Frey still screaming for a while. Then she heard a sound of metal puncturing the skin and the screams stopped soon after.

Jaime Lannister sends his regards. Her eyes watered when she remembered the words. Lord Wyman was sitting outside by a fire. He noticed her mild distress. "My lady, what is wrong? Have you found something out?"

"Lord Wyman, I want to be in the room when Roose Bolton gets it. I want to make him plead for mercy of death before I grant it to him."

The coldness in her voice shocked lord Wyman, but he quickly recomposed himself. "It shall be done, my lady."

"Thank you, my lord. I will excuse myself now. What will you do with the body?"

"I guess I'll have my men plant it somewhere around the Frey tents. Let them find him."

Sansa nodded. "Sweet dreams, my lady."

"Thank you, my lord."

She went to her tent, undressed and then covered herself. She knew it would take her a while to fall asleep, so she didn't even bother to close her eyes. She stared at the ceiling for a while, thinking of what her return to Winterfell brought her. Stannis has won the mountain clans for his cause, undoubtedly due to some promise about her father. She knew the clans would not bend a knee to anyone but a Northern lord unless he had a very persuasive argument to do so. The new Warden of the North, her host, was the one to kill off Robb. She didn't know why this had surprised her as much as it did, but she couldn't help it. She also remembered something about a Bolton uprising that Maester Luwin told her about once. Their own cadet branch, the Greystarks, have joined the Bolton banners. She also remembered that Maester told her that the Greystarks went extinct because of it. She wondered why the king didn't do the same to the Boltons. It would have saved her a lot of grief. She knew this was as good a time as any to wipe the Bolton family off the face of Westeros. All that was remaining of the family was Roose and his newly legitimized son Ramsay. To think of it, she hasn't seen Ramsay at the feast and neither the girl who posed as Arya. She still didn't want to believe it was really Arya, but she also felt some hope for a possible reunion.

I will not cry again, she said to herself. Now the age of my happiness is starting and nobody can make me cry. Not anymore. I have cried the last of my tears today.

Soon after making that promise to herself, her eyelids pushed together, seemingly on their own and she lost her consciousness mere minutes later.

She was awakened by some angry voices outside her tent. It was morning. She couldn't quite make out the words or who was saying them, but she somehow knew it was about that Frey they killed last night. She quickly dressed herself and stepped out. She saw Hosteen Frey screaming his lungs off, calling for someone's head. His words or rather screams were directed at Wyman Manderly.

"Wyman, I'm onto you! First the three Freys that were in your care don't return, now another one of my kin is dead! I'm not stupid!

Wyma was calm. "Lord Hosteen, can you tell me how am I supposed to be involved in this mess? Do I look like a bloodthirsty man to you?"

"You look like a fucking walrus, is what you look like to me! You disappeared from the feast a bit too fast yesterday! You never leave the hall until all the food is gone, even I know that and I'm not a Northerner!"

"I was merely escorting my ward to sleep. The journey was very tiring for her. Then, after we got to her tent, I started to become rather sleepy, so I went to sleep myself as well. By the way, can you please explain to me how am I supposed to be involved in the death of your kin? You said yourself that you found him at your tents. My tents are here, very close to the fort gate. Yours are on the other side of the court. Do I look like a man that would walk that distance, especially in the middle of the night? If the answer is yes, then you clearly don't know me as much as you think, Lord Hosteen."

"I don't like you and you best remember that! If I find out it really was you who killed my kin, I'll have your head on a spike at the Twins!"

"A good thing I wasn't involved, then. Though I do believe the same treatment would be exerted no matter who did this horrible thing? Even if it was our noble Lord Paramount of the North, Roose Bolton himself?"

"Manderly, are you trying to insinuate something?"

"On the contrary, I just want to know if you would have the same punishment inflicted on anyone that isn't me. I guess it's obvious that you hate me and that you would run to kiss our Lord Paramount's arse if he killed your kin and thank him for it."

Hosteen Frey's face has turned a shade of red so intense Sansa thought his face was about to blow up. Somehow it didn't and all that came out of his mouth was a growl of fury and then he marched away with a step so quick the guards that came with him couldn't keep the pace with him and nearly ran after him. Sansa chuckled at the sight. That's when lord Manderly noticed her.

"Lady Stone! I apologize for this ruckus. Lord Frey and his hatred for me are to blame." He got closer and closer to her. Sansa saw he has something important to tell her, so she feigned an invitation inside her tent. When they entered the tent, lord Wyman sat on the bed whereas Sansa stood there.

"I have some news, my lady," he whispered. "Some better than others."

Sansa paled. "What are the bad news?"

Wyman took his time. What was wrong? Were they betrayed? No, that couldn't be. They wouldn't be alive if that happened. What was it?

"Lord Wyman, what are the bad news?"

He was still slow about it. "Well, my lady, you see... The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch has died."

"They'll just get another one. It has happened before."

"It did, my lady, but... The Lord Commander was Jon Snow."

Jon. Her brother that isn't her brother. The Bastard of the North. Dead. Just like that.

"How?" was all she managed.

"Stabbed. Many times. Don't ask me why, I don't know that."

Another of her kin, dead. Sansa started wondering if any Stark would survive this winter. But she wouldn't cry. She promised that to herself.

"That's unfortunate. But he knew what he was getting into. May the gods rest his soul. What about the good news?"

Wyman was slightly startled at her apparent ease, but he quickly regained his wit.

"Ah, the good news, yes. The Reeds are here and so are the Umbers, but Mormonts are supposedly with Stannis. Lady Dustin is here as well, but I'm not sure which side she is on. We, the Reeds and the Umbers have quite a force with us here and it should be enough if we have the element of surprise on our side. Then there's also hope that Stannis doesn't kill a lot of our men but strikes the Bolton forces instead. Lord Umber has a brother who commands some of their troops, but he is with Stannis as well. If I only count my men, Whoresbane's and Howland's as ours, the Bolton men outnumber us about three to one, which is not a bad ratio. Leaves something to be desired, for sure, but it's better than I hoped, to be quite honest with you, my lady."

Sansa nodded. "Are we in any danger that Lord Frey manages to prove you had a hand in the murder?"

"Hardly, my lady. He's furious, that's true, but his brain is smaller than a walnut. He wouldn't know the murderer if he'd seen him with his own eyes."

Sansa felt reassured by those words and she managed a weak smile.

"But now, let's go and eat something, my lady, don't you say?"

Lord Wyman arose with all the difficulty you'd expect a man of his stature would have with rising from a bed that was very low.

"After breaking our fast, I have a meeting arranged with Whoresbane and Howland, my lady. You should come too. I have to show them I really have you. We are to meet in my tent to discuss further action, so stay close to me, my lady."

Sansa slightly nodded and followed lord Wyman to the Great Hall. She was quite hungry so she had bacon, black bread, two eggs and a lemoncake to top it. Lord Wyman was japing with people who were surrounding him and Sansa thought his deep laugh must surely be heard outside the hall. The loud laugh made her know she has nothing to be worried about and she was glad for it. Hopefully it sent a message to others in the hall not to mess with him. He does look weak, she thought, but then again, anyone carrying around this much weight looks quite weak, but that doesn't necessarily make it so. His bannermen were some of the most loyal knights not only in the North, but in the Seven Kingdoms, and their loyalty was matched only by their power and influence. She was glad lord Wyman remained loyal to House Stark. Having such a man support House Bolton would be a serious problem.

Lord Hother approached their table slowly. Sansa heard many stories about the man, but she didn't expect a man that old to be that huge. The sheer age of lord Hother made Sansa believe he should be much smaller. Alas, he was of the size with Greatjon, a true giant among men. His face looked even harder than what the stories told, with deep ridges in his cheeks. His stone cold eyes were studying everyone around him. Sansa couldn't believe he was once meant to be a Maester. People were scared of asking him why they call him Whoresbane; now that she had finally seen him, Sansa knew why. When he reached lord Wyman, he whispered a few words in his ear and Sansa couldn't hear a thing. He turned around and never so much as looked at her. Lord Wyman stood up and offered Sansa his hand.

"Lady Stone, will you be as kind as to escort me to my tent? I have an important meeting."

"Of course, my lord," she replied and stood up at once, taking the offered hand in hers and they slowly left the hall.

Thanks for reading! Until next week, then.