A Threat Unseen
Snuggled under the furs, Sansa awakens to the sudden rush of frigid air and the soft clicking sound of the cabin door latching closed as Sandor steps outside. From the porch she hears his rasping deep voice breaking the stillness of the early morning. Who would come here so early? Sansa wonders to herself, wrapping the furs around her nude body as she gets out of bed in case the men should suddenly come back inside.
It has been three weeks since their wedding and though the honeymoon was supposed to have ended within a week, the wedded day weirwood leaves Horen nailed to their front door still remain up. During their time together Sansa and Sandor have heard the giggles and whistles of the Free folk passing by, but true to Nan's word, so far no one has disturbed them. Listening closely, she recognizes Jon's soft voice resonating through the door. The sound causes Sansa to blush and giggle. She and Sandor had only finished their lovemaking a half hour prior and if her brother arrived any earlier he would have interrupted them for certain.
Though she cannot hear the men's words, the seriousness in the tone of their voices arouses her curiosity. Hurriedly she throws on her dressing gown and robe and then tiptoes over to the door in her stocking feet, pressing her ear close to the frame.
"Stannis' troubles with the Boltons are just the beginning of our problems as well as his own," She hears Jon comment darkly. "The Others have been attacking closer to White Tree in numbers that we previously would have thought impossible. They typically have stayed in the wild, never venturing into the larger communities of Free folk. The risk is coming from both directions, so it would seem."
Did he say the Others? The White Walkers are real? Sansa always believed Old Nan's tales about the Others were simply old bedtime stories told to them with the sole intention of scaring Arya enough to keep her in bed after their Father snuffed out the candles for the night. Of course, once Arya had Nymeria and Needle, no amount of monster stories could keep her inside after dark-f anything such tales only gave her all the more reason to go exploring.
Straining to listen for Sandor's response, Sansa recalls that not long after they arrived at Castle Black, Samwell tried entertaining her by relating Jon's very first experience with one of the fabled creatures. Her brother deftly interrupted Samwell's account of Jon's rescue of Lord Commander Mormont and from then on she felt it was just the young man's way of scaring her, a rite of passage bestowed on southern newcomers.
"You mean those buggering undead sons of bitches are real?" Sandor asks, crudely putting her thoughts into words.
"Yes, I'm afraid they are. You're not scared of them, are you?" Jon teases lightly.
"Scared? Bugger that. All I need to know is how to kill them. I remember my greatmother used to say they can't be killed by a regular sword," Sandor grunts menacingly.
"She spoke truly. I'm having an obsidian blade forged for you as we speak. They seem vulnerable to the substance and fire as well. Fight them as you would any other opponent but be careful not to let them touch you. If you think the situation is hopeless and you are about to die, it is best to take your own life, lest you end up brought back as one of them-a wight, we call them."
"Humph, I thought my time with this magic shit was over. I should have kept Beric's flaming fucking sword for my troubles, then," she hears Sandor grumble low. Sansa's heart sinks at the mere mention of the man who used the weapon in question to inflict the wicked twisted scarring on Sandor's arm.
"Bloody unlikely I'd let any one of those bastards close enough to touch me."
"Listen, Sandor, let us speak plainly as we are family now. Naturally, as a soldier I would welcome having a man with your battle experience fight with us against them. However, as my good brother, I must insist you keep Sansa safe and protect her at all costs." Sansa hears Jon pacing on the porch. "You are her husband now, I cannot decide for your family. What say you?"
Holding her breath, time seems to crawl by as she awaits Sandor's reply. "Aye, I'll keep her safe. You know I cannot go fighting another enemy when I've sworn myself to her protection. But if there is as many of those undead bastards as you say, keeping her safe will be damn near impossible." Sneaking across the floor, Sansa peeks out through a slit in the heavy curtains at the men on the porch.
Sighing heavily, Jon softly taps the tip of his Valyrian greatsword Longclaw against the wooden planks of the steps, a nervous habit Sansa remembers him sharing with their father. "I know that all too well, Sandor. Stannis and I have debated the matter at length. Despite our opposing ideas, I believe I have a plan that will preserve this area and the smallfolk and rid us of the White Walkers once and for all."
"Stannis, huh? I wouldn't figure on him giving up his own fight to help you. What of the Karstarks and the Boltons?"
"Stannis has crushed the Karstark forces south of the Wall, killing all remaining heirs and leaving Winterfell empty save for a small garrison and a few stewards."
"Even the young ones?" Sandor rasps low.
"Yes, I am afraid so. The Boltons are in the process of regrouping at the Dreadfort. Having heard reports of the threat of the Others, their bannermen so far are unwilling to pursue Stannis north of the Wall, brave men that they are."
Snorting, Sandor leans against the water barrel. "And what does Stannis plan on doing here in the meantime?"
"He proposes to lead the remaining Free folk to Winterfell, which is a safe distance from the invasion of the Others in exchange for them unreservedly bending the knee to him."
"Damned unlikely, that. What about Mance Rayder? Isn't he King Beyond the Wall?"
"Not anymore. Stannis caught and executed him three days past in front of all his people. He gave them a choice: either bend the knee or be banished in the wild. Most of them bent the knee on the spot to avoid being sent into the wild with the Others."
"And all this shit happened during the time Sansa and I have been on our honeymoon?!" Sandor growls loudly, rubbing his hand over his beard. "We've been locked away in this cabin longer than I thought."
"Be glad of it goodbrother, for who knows how far Stannis would have wished to involve you in the fighting for no other reason than to get even with you for Blackwater."
"Aye, true enough, that. Sansa, come out now lass, I've heard you snooping in there for the past ten minutes or so." Jerking the door open, he laughs in spite of himself at Sansa's pouting face.
"How did you hear me? I was as silent as the grave."
"Come here, Little bird," Sandor rasps, pulling her close to him. "Heard what your brother said, did you?"
"Yes, I'm afraid I did. Dearest Jon, remember the stories Old Nan would tell us before bed? What is to be done with such creatures?"
Sansa's words recall good memories for Jon. Old Nan would come into his room after the rest of the family was asleep and tell him stories but they were never the scary kind she told the other children. The kindly old woman would tuck him in snugly under the furs and then sit beside him, lulling him to sleep with stories about his Aunt Lyanna and how she loved the great Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.
These stories where only for him, she would say and not to be repeated, not even to his father. As a boy, it made him feel special that she shared her special stories with no one else, especially after the icy treatment he received from Catelyn on a daily basis.
Each night Old Nan came sharing a few more details, adding to the story as time went on. "You even resemble the prince, you know that, boy? Only your colouring is different," The tiny old woman would smile, ruffling his hair.
"You saw Prince Rhaegar?!" Jon asked incredulously.
"Aye I did, at the tourney where he named Lyanna his queen of love and beauty. I see him still," she would wink at him, her eyes twinkling in amusement.
Even though the brave prince was married to another, she said, he had fallen in love with the beautiful and spirited Lyanna from the moment he saw her and their love was such that could not be denied. Eventually Rhaegar could not endure being separated from her and so he stole her away with him. Whenever Jon asked what happened to them, Old Nan would get up to leave and say with a grin, "One day Jon, you'll have the answers to your questions, for the end of this tale lies within you, lad."
It made him feel special and confused and he had never stopped wondering what she meant by that, since all he had heard from his father was that he joined Robert's rebellion and his Aunt Lyanna died before he could save her.
Sandor clears his throat, recalling Jon to the present. "Forgive me Sis, I was just remembering my favorite of Old Nan's tales."
Sansa smiles and pats his hand. "I miss her too. One day we will tell our children her stories."
"As I was saying, Stannis will lead the Free folk to safety in Winterfell and train any eligible men and spearwives in the art of war. With the Free folk gone, there will be nothing holding the Others to the wild. Only time will tell how long it will take them to venture further."
Sansa gasps, raising her hand to her mouth. "Oh dear gods-then what?"
Glancing uneasily between the pair, Jon says, "I have pleaded my case to Queen Daenerys Targaryen on the Iron throne, who as you know is also known as the Unburnt, the Mother of Dragons."
"Dragons. Fuck me sideways," Sandor swears under his breath, closing his eyes and rubbing his head anxiously.
Confused, Sansa glances between the two men. "Yes, she has three I believe, hatched from her husband's funeral pyre. What of it?"
"Now you must understand, if the White Walkers kill man or beast they only add the fallen to their numbers. Should they continue their advance they will pose the gravest of threats to the entirety of Westeros, the likes of which has not been since before the Wall was raised. I have explained our situation to the Queen and she has agreed to bring the beasts here to eradicate the Others once and for all, Sansa. There is no other way to fight them. The Queen and her dragons are our only hope."
"The gods save us all," Sansa whispers, trembling in Sandor's arms.
"I've got you, Little bird, you'll be safe with me."
"My love, would that I could believe you." Sansa sighs sadly, snuggling into his embrace. "There is no way to protect us from Stannis, the Boltons, the Others and dragons. And what of everyone else?" Sansa shakes her head in disbelief. "I'm almost afraid to ask if this could somehow get worse."
"Sis, we are all working together to end this threat once and for all. If we succeed, the Others will never threaten Westeros again. There is no need to fear the Queen or her dragons."
Sandor snorts derisively. "And Stannis?"
"Stannis will hold off his campaign temporarily. Sis, the only way this situation could get worse is if the dragons do not succeed. Queen Daenerys has assured me of success. Her dragons are not mere pets but are full grown and trained for battle. She means to launch an attack before the White Walkers reach the forested areas to keep the damage to a minimum. It will be easy pickings for her dragons out on the open ice fields. In the unlikely event they should fail, I am afraid all will be lost."
"Have either of you ever seen Harranhal?" Sandor asks grimly.
"No, I have not," Sansa answers, turning to Jon, who also shakes his head. "Arya was there for a bit. She says the place is melted and still smells of sulfur."
"Aye, true enough. Neither of you would worry about dragons failing an attack if you saw that place. The Seven bloody hells, that place."
Sansa nods, remembering Tyrion's story of the great castle and the terrible events that took place there. "What about Stannis, brother? What will the queen do with him and the Boltons?"
"That is for them to decide. I have agreed to stay out of it. If any of them had any sense they would bend the knee to her. The Queen is most reasonable but it is highly unlikely she will tolerate another royal realm within her own."
"A Targaryen versus a Baratheon, that I'd like to see," Sandor laughs low. "There's a battle many years in the making. I doubt Stannis will know he's beaten even with dragons raining fire on him. He barely flinched at the wildfire."
Instinctively Sansa embraces Sandor at the mention of wildfire and he allows it, nuzzling into her hair a moment before returning his attention to Jon.
"What of Rickon and Brann?" Sansa whispers close to her brother.
"The Reeds have them in a secure place, Sansa, they are quite safe. As you know, the Reed men have the gift of greensight and have taught Bran to use his gift as well. They claim Bran is undergoing a change of sorts-I do not claim to comprehend what they mean by that. Howland, Jojen and Bran have all seen the end of the Others will come by fire and that the destruction of the undead creatures will signal the beginning of spring."
"What do you wish me to do, Lord Commander?" Sandor rasps low, resting his chin on the crown of Sansa's head.
"Sandor, I would have you take my sister far away from here, as soon as possible."
"No, Jon, no! What about you? You would have me leave you here to face such a great threat without family?! Please, do not ask such a thing of me!" Sansa cries, her tears flowing freely. The wetness on her cheeks quickly freezes in the chilled morning air.
"Let's go indoors," Sandor motions for Jon to follow as he leads Sansa inside the cabin. Once the door closes, Sansa begins crying in earnest, much to Sandor's distress. At the sound of her cries Ghost howl mournfully in response, surprising them. "I thought your direwolf was mute," Sandor comments, handing Sansa a warmed handkerchief.
Shrugging, Jon watches his sister. "Before now he only howled once when I was in danger. He's bonded to the family." Sighing, he pulls his sister close to him, tenderly stroking her hair. "Sansa, look at me. Listen to me now. You must survive for Bran and Rickon and Arya's sakes."
"You are a true-born Stark of Winterfell, there must always be a Stark in Winterfell," Sandor tells her, tilting her chin up so she will look into his eyes.
Steeling herself, Sansa nods slowly as her tears slowly subside. "Forgive me, you are right, of course. It's only that this is all so sudden…we have already lost so much, I cannot bear to lose you, too, Jon. It is not to be born."
After gathering her thoughts, Sansa answers firmly, "Of course I will go brother, just as you wish. No matter what happens, I will make Winterfell the seat of our family and return our brothers and sister to their rightful place. Together we will bring Winterfell back to the beauty of former days. I swear it on the Old gods and the New."
Smiling, Jon holds her close, "I know you will, Sansa. Bran has seen our family return to Winterfell, "the wolves will come again" were his exact words. We must have faith in him. Now, do you have any idea where you may go?"
Sandor nods thoughtfully, "I have a small cabin I can take her to, hidden deep in the mountains of the Vale. Only the Burned Men clan knows of its existence and after looking at this face, they'll leave me be. She'll be safe there. When would you have us leave?"
"The Vale is a wise choice, Sandor. I would see you off at first light, I'll send men to see your things are made ready by then. The Queen will be here in two moons. If all goes well, this will be over soon enough and then we will all be together again, mayhaps in six turns of the moon."
"Must we leave so soon, Jon?" Sansa whispers, pulling him closer still.
"It is better this way, Sis. Drawing out our goodbyes will only make it worse. You'll be safe with Sandor. Now hurry, get your things ready. I'll be back later," Jon murmurs in her ear, kissing her cheek before abruptly leaving the cabin.
"Don't fret, Little bird. You'll always have me. I'll keep you safe, I swear it."
"I know my love, I trust you implicitly, you must believe me. We will get through this together as a family, I am sure of it." Pulling him close, she tenderly kisses him, cupping his cheek in her hand. "The gods did not return you to me for no purpose, my love. I have always wondered why I was spared when so many others were not."
Nodding solemnly, Sandor brushes a strand of hair from her eyes, "Aye, I've wondered the same myself over the years. It is a difficult thing to bear, love."
"Sandor, this is our destiny my love, yours and mine. The gods spared us for this, for our love and for our family and I am deeply grateful to them." Turning to glance around the cabin, Sansa sets her shoulders. "I am ready to go with you. No matter where we may end up my love, we will be together and that is all that matters. Let us begin packing."