A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! We're nearing the end now :D
The Battle and a Sign of Things to Come
Racing through the woods on Stranger, Sansa notices steam rising off the lathered horse while Sandor spurs him on. The temperature suddenly drops further, the raw biting cold taking on an oppressive, ominous quality. Just as Old Nan described it, like a blanket covering the land, Sansa shivers, burrowing further down into the furs and clutching Sandor's waist tightly.
"Sandor, the cold…it's getting much worse. It hurts to breathe it's so cold," she whispers against his back, not sure if he even hears her over the thundering of Stranger's hooves.
"Aye, love, I feel it too. Bloody hells it's freezing! I've never seen steam rise off an animal before. Fuck, this must be a new low, even for this gods-forsaken place." He growls against the bracing wind peppering his face. "Stay tucked under those furs. We'll be there soon; the castle's already coming into view." Peering around her husband, Sansa sees the twinkling lights along the battlements of Castle Black, the sight filling her with a small measure of relief. We are almost there, just a little further…
"Thank the gods," she says, followed by an audible gasp, for in the blackness of the surrounding forest, glittering blue eyes stare out at them, eerily reflecting in the dim light surrounding the castle walls.
"Sansa, what is it? You alright?" Sandor asks, craning in the saddle to face her.
"Sandor, look! The eyes-do you see them?!" She forces a strangled cry from her throat, desperately pointing into the night. "What sort of animal has eyes that glow in such a way?!"
"Fuck me, I don't know. No animal I've ever seen and I've hunted all my life," he growls, spurring Stranger onward. "Stay close to me now, little bird. Hold on tight!"
Without warning Stranger rears up on his hind legs, snorting and blowing fiercely as Sandor stretches back and grasps Sansa by the waist, all the while struggling to stay in the saddle. "What in Seven hells?" Sansa hears him swear, followed by the hiss of the icy air cut by the slashing of the obsidian blade. In the distance they hear the horn sounding from Castle Black. One blow, then two…and finally the third, signaling an attack by the Others.
"Sansa, stay close to me, no matter what happens!" Sandor shouts, drawing both swords. Sansa keeps her eyes tightly closed, listening as Sandor curses and grunts, his newly forged sword ringing out as it clashes against another blade. Roaring in fury, Sandor's muscles flex wildly against her grip, swinging his arms with all his might, the resulting shattering crystalline fragments showering the couple.
"There's a group of those bloody undead bastards up ahead! Hold on to Stranger now," he shouts, handing her the reigns as he swings down from the saddle. "Sandor, don't let them touch you!" Sansa cries, watching him check each fallen creature and then plunge his blade into them several times for good measure.
Archers with flaming arrows appear on the battlements, raining down fire on the approaching White Walker hoard nearing the castle, the sharp cries of the fallen echoing in the still forest. Sandor hears one of the rangers shout, "There are people down there!"
"The Lord Commander's sister! Get out here now, you men!" Sandor shouts at the top of his voice. Several rangers scramble out of the side gate of Castle Black, racing toward them with swords drawn and torches at the ready.
Soft footfalls crunch in the forest, alerting the couple from the rear. Wheeling around, Sansa looks on in horror at the creature approaching with wispy white hair and pale mummified skin carrying a spear made of crystal ambles toward them on horseback. "Even their bloody mounts are wights," Sandor shouts, staring at the animal's eyes glowing blue in the darkness, the rotting flesh of its neck draping down its flank.
The ear-splitting squealing of the undead horse pierces the night air as Sandor viciously thrusts forward, driving his obsidian sword deep into the throat of the wight animal before sharply driving the blade sideways, tearing out the throat of the undead creature. Stranger rears and trumpets loudly, his mighty hooves crashing down on the fallen White Walker rider, stomping and kicking ferociously, only backing away to allow Sandor to thrust in his sword. "Good work, Stranger! Shh, easy boy, easy now…they're all dead," Sandor speaks soothingly to the agitated warhorse, patting his neck and offering a small apple to appease him while gathering the reigns from a shaken Sansa.
"You folks alright? They didn't cut you, did they?" Ser Jaremy Rikker asks, signaling Sam to come forward and check the couple over. "No, no they didn't get me. Closest one got off a stroke that caught my fur, nothing more," Sandor grunts, carefully looking Sansa over. "You seem in one piece, little bird. You're pale as the snow though. Are you alright, wife?"
"Yes…yes, just a little taken aback," Sansa responds. "None of them came near me, you saw to that."
"Let's get the both of you inside the castle," Ser Jaremy nods, calling for the rest of the rangers to gather the dead creatures. "What are you going to do with them?" Sandor asks, watching them pile the bodies in a nearby ravine at the base of the castle's outer walls.
"We burn them all to make sure they can't come back as wights," the ranger called Rast replies, motioning for them to follow him. "In the past we made the mistake of burying a few of our rangers killed by them, only to see them raised to wights later. The Lord Commander killed one such creature trying to attack the then Lord Commander Jeor Mormont when he first arrived. That's how Lord Snow became his personal steward."
So, Sam's story was true and not just a story to scare me. Jon did kill one of these creatures in the past. I wonder if he ever told Father about it? Sansa muses quietly, making room for Sandor in front of her in the saddle.
Once safely behind the castle walls, Sansa begins to shake, leading Sandor to take her into his arms and carry her inside. "We can find a bed for you love, I'll meet with your brother," Sandor whispers to her out of earshot of the men.
"No, I am alright, just shaken up a bit more than I originally thought, husband," Sansa smiles at him, caressing his cheek. "Please, let us go to Jon together."
Ser Jaremy, Sam and Rast go with Sansa and Sandor to Jon's ready room, where they find the Lord Commander anxiously awaiting their arrival. "You men, leave us. I will speak to my family in private," Jon barks, hurrying over to Sansa who is still tucked in Sandor's arms. "My lord, we thought to-"
"I said get out, now. I'll call for you after I attend my sister and goodbrother," Jon shouts, jerking his head at his steward to escort the rangers out of the room. "Sis, are you alright? Sam's personal steward said you were not injured in the attack."
"No, brother, please do not fret. I am fine, only a bit shaken up," Sansa smiles, touching his cheek. Relieved, Jon sighs deeply and then asks, "What were the two of you doing out so late? Did something happen at your cabin?"
"Well, this may sound…strange but the cold, it felt so very different, bitter, almost like…"
"It is alive," Jon finishes. "Like it's a living, breathing thing, holding the land in its grasp. I recognized it too. It felt…dark, sinister even. I couldn't sleep for the change. Even inside the castle it was very noticeable, to me at least."
Sandor clears his throat. "You Starks have a connection to the winter, I know that much at least, same as with your direwolves. I've seen enough in my life to know better than to doubt it. When Sansa said she needed to see you I couldn't refuse her, not knowing what exactly she was feeling. It put her in danger. We shouldn't have risked it."
"No, do not feel such, goodbrother. You were right to bring her to me. We are stronger together," Jon grins at her, tweaking her nose playfully, trying to coax a smile out of his dazed sister.
"You speak truly, Jon. Are you certain you wish me to leave, brother? Even with all of these creatures afoot, you would have me leave you as the only Stark here?" Sansa does not like the idea of leaving her brother and the evening's events have only compounded her reluctance.
"Yes, you must stay safe, Sansa, for the sake of our family. Father would have wanted it this way. This is the only way and I would be distracted if you stayed, worrying about you. Try and get some sleep, now. I'll have Sam bring in some hot mulled wine for the both of you. You leave with the convoy at first light, understand? I'll brook no refusals," Jon says, taking note of Sansa's frown of protest as he opens the door and signals his steward to usher them to their room, leading Sandor to chuckle as he leads her outside.
Snuggled down under the furs, Sandor holds Sansa tight against his chest, relishing the feeling of her silky hair covering his bare skin while her fingers draw little patterns over his heart. "Sandor, perhaps we should not stop at Winterfell," she says quietly, breaking the stillness of the room after their lovemaking.
"Why Little bird?" He asks, tilting her face up to his. "Afraid you won't want to leave?"
"It is true I may wish to tarry once I am in Winterfell but after what happened tonight, I just think it would be best to get to the Vale as quickly as possible."
"Scared you, did they?" He chuckles, pulling her on top of him, burying his face in her hair. "I know, I don't like them much myself. We'll do whatever you wish, Sansa. You don't need to decide tonight."
Nodding, Sansa nuzzles into the warm nape of his neck, gently rubbing her cheek against his beard. "I could have lost you, my love," she whispers against his skin. "Not likely, that. I didn't come all this way to die at the hands of those bastards. I'm a hard man to kill. You're safe with me Little bird," he whispers into the crown of her hair. "I know, my love," she whispers back. Soon the mulled wine has its effect on the couple and they doze off into a restful sleep.
The acrid smell of burning sulfur assaults Sansa's nose as she waits beside Stranger. Sandor finishes tying their bundles to Sugar and begins strapping on his armor, "Bloody hells, it smells like Harrenhal out here."
"Jon, what is that burning smell? It is most unpleasant and cannot be good for the men," Sansa coughs, raising a handkerchief to her face.
"We kept sulfur burning in the ravine overnight to make sure nothing remains of the Others," he replies while helping Sandor strap on the last of his light armor. "I will not chance any of them coming back a second time."
Frowning, she slowly nods before moving to allow Sandor to lift her in front of him in the saddle. "Many thanks, goodbrother. We may not stop at Winterfell after all, depending on the little bird. I'll send a ravens along the way, keep you informed of our whereabouts."
"You don't wish to go home, Sansa?" Jon asks, taking her hand in his and kissing it lightly.
"There will be time enough for that when this is over. I wish to get to the Vale as quickly as possible. I would not have you delay in putting an end to this invasion for the sake of my sentimentality," Sansa smiles, her bright blue eyes glittering with tears. "Goodbye brother, we will be together again in six moon's time."
"Goodbye Sis, goodbrother," Jon chokes out, struggling to maintain his composure in front of the men. Waving, he watches the couple ride slowly out of sight with a heavy but determined heart. He will put an end to the Others once and for all and see his family restored to the ancestral home of his father.
Howling blizzards slow the party's travel south toward Winterfell. The trip is long and arduous but following Stannis' determined pace, in three weeks' time Wintertown comes into view, overshadowed by the huge granite outer walls of Winterfell. The sight of home saddens and gladdens Sansa by turns as they draw near the once mighty castle. With its towers singed during the Greyjoy rebellion and the partial collapse of the First Keep and Great Hall, the castle bears little resemblance to her childhood memories of the once grand complex. Seeing her home for the first time since leaving for King's Landing nevertheless fills Sansa with a steely determination to bring the seat of the Starks back to its former days of glory. Sensing her mood, Sandor wraps his arms tightly around her waist, whispering in her ear, "You're a Stark wolf through and through, wife. Don't fret, you'll see it back as it once was Sansa, believe that."
Smiling at him, she gently wipes her tears away. "Our children will never know it otherwise, my love." Glancing skyward, she spots a fierce red comet burning across the sky. "Sandor, look! A red comet!"
"Aye, I see it," Sandor responds, glancing at the ranger next to him. "It's Mormont's torch," he shouts, leading the other rangers to cheering their fallen former Lord Commander.
Sandor pulls reign on Stranger to take in the unusual sight and Horan pulls his wagon along the couple. "That red comet has nothing to do with the Old Bear. Stars don't fall for men." he says definitively.
"No? What does it signal then, old man?" Sandor asks, amused at the normally quiet blacksmith's authoritative tone.
"That red comet only means one thing, son, and make no mistake. Dragons," Horan nods firmly at the celestial sign trailing off into the distance.
Shuddering, Sansa looks up at Sandor. "She's coming, Sandor. The comet shines for Daenerys."