A Chilling Presence

After leaving the cabin, Jon orders Podrick to deliver Sandor's newly forged obsidian sword. While Sam commands the residents of White Tree to gather at Castle Black directly, Edd and Grenn gather the Free folk in the spacious central courtyard of Castle Black. While watching the village scurry about, the Lord Commander ponders the grim situation, desperately trying not to let his mind think of what will happen should the Queen and her dragons fail to end the threat of the Others. The weight of his responsibility as Lord Commander weighs heavily on him but even more pressing to Jon is the survival of his family through the coming winter.

His mind wanders back to Ygritte, the brave and brash spearwife he lived with during his infiltration of the Wilding forces under Mance Rayder. He had loved her though he never said it out loud to the other Rangers once he returned, afraid if he put his feelings into words it would be considered a betrayal of his vows. She would have loved to see a proper warrior queen riding a dragon. This is the fight she always wanted, to save her people. He can still see her lying in the snow outside the castle, felled by an arrow. Shivering, Jon remembers how cold she was in his arms, her brilliant red hair full of snowflakes glittering in the pale moonlight as she whispered, "Is this a proper castle now? Not just a tower?"

"It is." He had answered and took her hand. "Good," she whispered. "I wanted t' see one proper castle, before…before I…" Jon could not bear to hear her finish. "You'll see a hundred castles. You're kissed by fire, remember? Lucky. It will take more than an arrow to kill you." Ygritte had just smiled at that. "D'you remember that cave? We should have stayed in that cave. I told you so."

How many times since then did he wish they had stayed in that cave, safe and warm, making love as though they had not a care in the world? Jon thinks of it still, more times than he cares to admit. But the Old gods had spared him during his time with the Wildings and now Jon is certain he knows the reason: it was to stop the Others from breaching the Wall, to put an end to their threat and restore Winterfell to his half siblings. Jon hopes his father is looking down on him and Sansa and that he is proud of them. Their family home will be a haven for the Free folk and Sansa will go into hiding, just as Arya, Rickon and Bran had done before her. If all goes well, she will be able to restore her home to its ancestral glory and the wolves will once again reside in Winterfell. It is her destiny, just as it was his to become Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Sighing, Jon rises and stands before the assembled crowd.

Once everyone is quiet, Jon briefly informs the local people of the coming danger from the Others, the plan to relocate the village to Winterfell and Queen Daenerys' anticipated arrival. Ever resilient, the Free folk people hurry into action, going back to their cabins to retrieve various weapons made of obsidian handed down from past generations and preparing for the long trip south to Winterfell. Sam and Podrick organize parties of Baratheon soldiers to begin evacuating the village with the elderly and ill leaving first, then families with small children and finally spearwives and men fit for battle. While the operation is under way, Jon oversees the preparations with Stannis' men until late afternoon and before once again going to Sandor and Sansa's cabin.

"What do you think of the obsidian blade, Sandor?" Jon calls, watching Sandor practicing out in the yard. Grunting, Sandor parries before thrusting the sword into his fencing dummy, sending pieces of the hay-stuffed figure all over the ground. "Finest sword I've ever owned goodbrother-many thanks," Sandor replies, testing the weight and balance of the new weapon before shaking the hand Jon offers. "It is a fine wedded present Jon, thank you," Sansa smiles tensely, unable to hide her apprehension. "May the gods see you have no need for it, Sandor. Are you two ready to leave or will you need more time? Pod has organized the first convoy to leave in the morning should you want to ride escort for part of the way."

"No, not sure that's a good idea. I doubt Stannis will agree to it." Sandor answers, jerking his head toward the south. Frowning, Sansa glances sideways at him and says, "But I'm sure we can travel with them until we reach Winterfell. Is that not so?" Sandor pauses and then nods in agreement. "Aye, we will love but we cannot stay there. We gotta keep moving if we want to reach the mountains of the Vale before the snow closes the passes."

"Have you planned which route you'll take?" Jon asks, stifling a grin when he notices Sansa frowning at her new husband. "We'll make for White Harbor, then sail to Gull town and then we head into the mountains. With no trouble it should take no more than two moons, I wager, if we travel hard."

"Well, see that you do, Sandor. How did you come by this cabin in the Vale? Is it in the Clegane family?"

Sandor laughs low. "No, I helped an old Stone Crow bury his wife on my way here. Turns out he was returning to his clan and had no need of it so he offered it to me. It's no castle to be sure but it's warm and close to the Eyrie."

"The Eyrie? But Sandor, I…I don't want to go to the Eyrie," Sansa whispers, involuntarily shivering.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulls her close and tilts her face so she will meet his gaze. "Love, Baelish is dead and your uncle and the Royces hold the Eyrie now. You don't have to go there if you don't want to-they won't even know we are there. The cabin is tucked away. Only the clans know of its whereabouts."

Sansa smiles and nods, relief spreading across her face at Sandor's words. "I'm sure it will be just right for us, then."

"It's just as well. I don't want Sansa anywhere near here when the Queen shows up with her dragons. When she learns my sister was once married to a Lannister, her favor towards the Starks may waver a bit." Grunting, Sandor agrees. "Once she finds out the Little bird is married to the brother of Gregor Clegane she may not be so pleased either, considering what he did to her goodsister and her brother's children."

"Queen Daenerys will not hold you responsible for Gregor's crimes," Sansa says firmly, the wolf-like strength of her voice surprising the men. "She will pardon Sandor or else she will punish us both. I refuse to believe she is like Rhaegar or King Aerys. I…I will not stand for her harsh judgment of me or my husband, not when her father had Greatfather Stark and Uncle Brandon killed. Jon, do you remember how Father said they died?" Swallowing hard, Jon nods slowly.

"Tyrion said she has fierce yet reasonable heart and I will not rest until she understands the truth of the matter and…and bother her dragons."

Both men stare at her, more than a little startled by her passionate speech. Sandor takes her hand, touched by his wife's loyalty. "I believe if anyone gets through to her, it will be you, wife. It will not come to that. I won't allow it."

"Agreed. I will stand by you both when the time comes and I will not send for you unless I see she is as "reasonable" as you say. " Sighing, Jon gathers Sansa close to him. "I would say our goodbyes now, sister, in private." Smiling, Sansa blinks back her tears and wraps her arms around him. "I have always loved you, Jon, though I did not show it as a sister should and for that I am very sorry. I am glad we have been able to find a place of understanding between us at last, brother."

"Me, too, Sis. I love you too," Jon whispers against her cheek, choking out his words. "You keep safe. Sandor, keep her safe, now." His mouth twitching into a small grin, Sandor slaps him on the back. "I'll keep her safe. You watch you back and don't let any of those bloody undead bastards get you."

Laughing, Jon nods, "I'll do my best. I'll see you both in six turns of the moon. Send a raven when you reach the cabin. I'll see you off at dawn."

"Snow's coming," Sandor remarks, resting his forearms on the doorframe of the cabin and gazing out into the blackness of night while Sansa finishes washing the dishes. "Should be here after the second watch."

"I can feel it," Sansa remarks, walking up beside him and placing her arms around his waist. "Does the cold feel…different to you?"

"Aye, I was trying to put my finger on it. It's almost…"

"Harsher," Sansa finishes for him, "A biting cold. I heard Old Nan call it that back home. She would talk about a cold so bitter it was as if the cold is a tangible thing blanketing the land. Even in Winterfell I don't recall ever feeling such in the air."

"Must be some truth in your house words," Sandor laughs.

Staring intently out at the night, Sansa squints as though trying to focus on something in the pitch darkness. "No, no it isn't winter that is coming…it's something else…"

"What is it, then?" Sandor asks, raising his voice in alarm . He remembers hearing the Starks have mysterious connections to winter and direwolves and even the weirwood trees. Throughout the years he heard rumors of all kinds of creatures north of the Wall and Sandor's greatmother used to tell him stories of the Others and their giant spiders. Is it possible Sansa physically feels a foreboding presence that no one else does? "Little bird, talk to me. What is it you feel?"

Biting her lip, she pauses in thought. "It is almost as though the cold…is alive. Does that sound crazy?" Scowling, Sandor shuts the door and bolts the lock. "What the buggering hells is crazy? The Others taking over the land, a queen who cannot be burned by fire is sending her fucking dragons to stop them, Stannis' red witch…I don't know what in the seven hells to believe anymore. I'm glad we're leaving this damned place. The sooner the better."

Moving to the window, Sansa stares out into the blackness, looking for what she does not know. "Maybe we should go to Jon."

"You don't need to ask twice. I'll take you to Castle Black as soon as you're bundled up. Grab those furs off the bed," Sandor gestures while strapping on his armor and swords. "Light a lantern you can carry."

Hurriedly Sansa wraps herself up and brings the lantern while Sandor quickly saddles Stranger and unsheathes his obsidian blade. "Anything happens, you keep tucked close to me, you hear? Hang on, don't let go no matter what, understand?" Sandor says firmly, gripping her chin with his mailed hand. "I won't let anything hurt you, I swear it."

"I promise, I'll hold on," Sansa says, starting to climb up in front of him. "No, Little bird. Hand me the lantern and get behind me. Hold on tight now and stay underneath my cloak," he says as she positions herself in the saddle. "If I need to fight, my arms need to be free. Remember what I said now."

"Hold on and don't let go, no matter what," she repeats with a small smile and Sandor reaches back and kisses her tenderly on the mouth. "Ready?"

"Yes, Sandor."

"Stranger, make tracks boy," Sandor roars, spurring the giant warhorse in the flanks as they gallop toward Castle Black.