The Battle of Ice and Fire
Later that night the temperature suddenly plunges, the peculiar biting cold alarming the Lord Commander as he watches the moon rises over the Wall. The change brought Jon to the battlements and the young man anxiously surveys the horizon with trepidation. Ghost whines softly beside him, one of the few times Jon has ever heard the massive direwolf utter a sound.
Many times the Lord Commander has pondered how it is that he and Sansa intuitively recognize the unnaturalness of the change that precludes the arrival of the Others. Since that fateful night she and Sandor where attacked three moons ago, he has been most grateful this Stark family trait gives him an advantage in ascertaining the timing of their attacks.
Stannis Baratheon has been at Castle Black since the late afternoon to add his experienced army to the fortifications of the Night's Watch. So far he has managed to avoid the queen. His stubbornly dismissive air has Jon puzzled and more than a little worried.
When he explained that one of King Robert's sons survived Joffrey's genocide and accompanied the Queen's retinue, Stannis remained aloof before coldly rejecting being introduced to Gendry.
With so little of his own family left, Jon believed the man would put aside his prejudices and gladly go to his brother's son. Sadly, such was not the case. Regretfully Jon took it upon himself to tell Gendry his uncle did not wish to see him. The young man swallowed hard and nodded, and Jon squeezed his shoulder understandingly. "It is his loss, you know," Gendry managed before turning to leave the readiroom.
Jon despises Stannis Baratheon and cannot wait for his departure from Winterfell. The only notable piece of information Stannis disclosed came from Melisandre: the Others apparently serve a deity called the Great Other. He is the god of darkness, ice and death who is locked in eternal warfare with R'hllor, the god of light, fire and life. Jon isn't sure what to think of this information and chalks it up to yet another of their unusual fanatical beliefs.
Overlooking the wooded area of White Tree, Jon squints into the deep shadows cast by the burning torchlight for movement. Waiting is the worst part, he sighs to himself, knowing it will only be a matter of time before the Others attack. His mind returns to Sansa and Sandor. The young man finds he painfully misses his little sister and her husband. With any luck the campaign will be over soon and they will back home in Winterfell where they belong.
As the Lord Commander stands watch with the other men, he mulls over his earlier meeting with the queen and her envoys. She has asked of him an extraordinary thing and though he agreed, it is not without reservation.
So far, he has found Daenerys is straightforward, determined, loyal, quick with a smile and very beautiful, although Jon is fully aware that as a true Targaryen she could turn ruthless at any moment.
Ser Jaremy Rikker, Rast and many others have informed the Lord Commander about the way the young queen deals with traitors. Looking down into the courtyard, he beholds Drogon nuzzling into Dany's hair as she softly speaks to him. Judging by the size of the black dragon, Jon is certain the rumors are true and the traitors have been numerous indeed.
"Lord Commander Snow," she smiled graciously as she entered the solar with Ser Barristan and Gendry on her heels, the late afternoon light giving her silver hair a luminous quality. "Forgive me, but would you mind if I called you Jon?"
Would it matter if I did? Jon thought briefly but the young man only smiled and shook his head. Perhaps she is trying to charm me into submission. "Not at all, your Grace."
"And it would please me greatly if you dispensed with the formalities and called me Dany, as my closest friends do."
"It would be my honor," the Lord Commander smiled, bowing to her. Ser Barristan nod approvingly. Jon never expected to meet the man his father often called one of the greatest fighters the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen. Though his hair and beard are as white as snow, Jon noticed he is robust and vigorous with alert, piercing eyes.
Standing in his solar surveying the beautiful and diminutive queen with him, another saying his father attributed to Ser Barristan came to mind: "Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin and every time a new Targaryen is born, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land."
I guess Barristan the Bold feels confident in her sanity enough to continue in her service, Jon thinks with a measure of relief. Three dragons in the possession of a mad woman is not a situation Jon wishes to encounter during her visit.
"Good. Well, then, is there anything you wish to discuss before we get down to business at hand?" Dany asked with a whisper of a smile on her face. Detecting his hesitance, she reassuringly added, "You may ask me any manner of question, Jon Snow."
Pursing his lips, Jon glanced between the queen, Gendry and Ser Barristan. "That is most gracious. Forgive me but how is it that Ser Barristan and Gendry are with you, your Grace? It is widely known you do not speak of Gendry's sire by name. I understand you prefer to refer to him only as the Usurper and of my own father as the Usurper's dog."
"Does that offend you? Even though you are his bastard and not a rightful heir?"
Setting his jaw, Jon looked at Gendry. "My feelings are unimportant on the matter. I am only a bastard, as you say." Gendry cast his eyes downward.
"I would disagree. To me it matters a great deal, for while bastards do not inherit their families possessions neither do they share in their guilt," Daenerys countered icily before turning her gaze toward Gendry, who cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably on his feet.
"I do not kill innocent children for the sins of their fathers, Jon Snow. At one time I would have considered it, that much is true. But being a mother myself I realize-" she pauses and Jon perceived she was lost in thought. "At times, there are often difficult choices that need to be made," Dany finished softly.
"You mean you are the mother of dragons, correct?"
"Yes. I once carried my husband's child but sadly we lost our child, and my husband soon after."
"I am sorry," Jon said softly.
"Some think I cannot be the mother of such winged and ferocious creatures but if they are monsters, then so am I. I am the blood of the dragon, Jon Snow, and no ordinary woman. But I also bear the responsibility for the lives and property my children have taken. I would not punish others for such, not anymore." Briefly he sees a flicker of uncertainty in her face before the mask of detached reserve returns.
It cannot be easy training and controlling them, for all of her being the blood of the dragon. Jon himself appreciates the struggle of training a large, willful and dangerous beast and cannot imagine how much more difficult it must be with three dragons.
"Of course, I could kill you and Gendry. It is after all well within my right as queen and would serve as justice for Aegon and Rhaenys." Dany murmurred, gauging his reaction to her words.
Folding his arms, Jon only raised his eyebrow. She is testing me.
"However, Ser Barristan's counsel has been invaluable to me. It is he who made me aware that Ned Stark spoke for me when no one else would. Often the dead are powerful in the grave than they were in life. I prefer to do away with the former dealings of our families by building mutually beneficial relationships, not exacting retribution. As queen I allow the behavior of othersto determine which way the tide turns in such matters. I believe in giving them a choice."
Sighing, Jon regarded the young queen carefully, unsure of whether he should trust her. "What of my siblings? Would you extend them the same opportunity?"
"Tyrion explained to me the despicable manner in which his nephew and Cersei treated your sisters. Rest assured, the Usurper's queen paid dearly for her treachery," Dany hissed coldly while running her fingernails along the weirwood desk. "Your sisters were merely pawns to that despicable creature. Once I would have held them accountable, regardless; but not now."
Jon tilted his head at her, struggling to decide if she truly meant her words. "But Ser Barristan has led you to change your views. I believe I understand you, your Grace."
"I appreciate your wariness of me in the matter of your family," Dany softly offered. "It is most understandable given our respective families' histories. I hope you will allow me to prove my sincerity by entrusting one of my children to you."
What does she mean by that? She's going to give me a dragon? Maybe I judged her sanity too quickly, Jon worried while Daenerys turned to Gendry.
"What did you have in mind, your Grace?"
"Patience, Jon," she gave him a knowing smile. "Pray, where is Stannis Baratheon? Does the Usurper's brother mean to avoid my entire visit? This will not do."
"Your Grace, I can no longer excuse his behavior nor offer explanation to his whereabouts. He was told of this meeting. Where he is now, I cannot say."
"Cannot say? Or won't?" Dany asked, her violet eyes glittering with anger.
"I do not know where he is, your Grace. My men are searching for him at present." Jon replies with a slight bow.
Sighing, Dany shook her head. "I will not wait for him, Lord Commander-do not ask it."
"No, I would not ask you to do any such thing, your Grace."
"Good. It would seem you understand me better than Stannis Baratheon."
Ser Barristan stepped forward and bowed low. "Would you like me to bring him, my queen?"
"No, I have wasted enough time on that man, thank you," she said, setting her shoulders. "Let us begin. First, I want to engage the White Walkers as soon as may be. Their threat is peculiar in nature, given their ability to reanimate the dead. I feel strongly that they must be handled immediately."
"I couldn't agree more," Jon declared as he watched Gendry shift uncomfortably on his feet. "Our chance will come soon enough, perhaps even tonight. Do you expect their presence will cause any problems for your dragons?"
"No, though admittedly it is impossible to anticipate their behavior with certainty as large and willful as they are now. I am able to command them using High Valyrian words and even when I am not riding them, they are mostly obedient. Nevertheless, my wish is to move the fighting away from the castle and village, if possible."
"The ice fields lie due north of us," Jon smoothed out his map on his desk and Dany, Ser Barristan and Gendry moved in closer. "If your dragons successfully drive them back north, we may be able to hold them there for the final assault."
"Agreed, your Grace," Ser Barristan stated. "It would not be too difficult a thing, though riding the dragons may be necessary. You will need Gendry and me ready at a moment's notice."
Ser Jaremy Rikker looked over at Jon and then Samwell, clearly displeased. "Ser Jaremy, you look as though you would protest Ser Barristan's suggestion. I would hear your thoughts on the matter. What say you?" Daenerys offers patiently, though her lavender eyes flash with anger.
Annoyed, Jon glared at the knight to hold his tongue. Ser Jaramey spoke out. "Forgive me, your Grace. I may be speaking out of turn but the battle will not only be restricted to the ice fields with your dragons. The rangers and Baratheon troops will be needed to finish off any surviving White Walkers as well as secure the surrounding area of any of their undead mounts and spiders."
"Of course-that goes without saying," Dany asserted archly, glancing at Ser Barristan. "You did not believe I thought to fight this battle on my own, did you?"
"Begging your pardon, your Grace, but I do believe the men would fight harder if they saw the Lord Commander in the lead position. The men here are sworn to the Night's Watch, not the Iron throne."
"Rikker, that is enough. Hold your tongue," Jon sharply reprimanded as Ser Barristan stepped forward drawing his sword. "If you think I will allow you to disrespect my queen, you think wrong, boy."
Danaerys narrowed her eyes and glared at Ser Jaramey. "No, Ser Barristan, please. Ser Jaremy speaks rightly. Most of these men took their vows as watchers on the Wall long before I came to rule Westeros." Looking down, she tapped her fingers lightly on the table in thought.
"Lord Snow's men respect him, of that I am certain. I have observed the men look at him in a similar way my husband's bloodriders viewed their khal," she answered, sadness clouding her face. After several moments of silence, Dany cleared her throat and straightened her back. "You believe you should ride one of my dragons into battle, Jon Snow. What say you?"
Me? Ride a bloody dragon alongside Ser Barristan and the queen? Jon's head reeled at the very idea. Blinking back his astonishment, he found himself slowly nodding after he observed Dany patiently awaiting his response with a faint smile on her lips.
"Yes, of course. Whatever you wish, your Grace."
Daenerys turned toward Gendry. "Do you have any objection to Lord Snow riding Rhaegal in your stead? Or perhaps you may ride with him?"
"Certainly not, your Grace," Gendry says, bowing slightly at her while awkwardly standing with his hands behind his back. Jon smiled at the young man, whose unease reminded him of himself at the same age. "I serve at your pleasure."
Relief spread across the young queen's face. Once more Jon was reminded that she is merely a few years older than Sansa. "Good, it is settled, then. Come, Jon, let us go see him. I fear there is not a moment to spare. Gendry, please join us. I want you to tell the Lord Commander all you know about my beloved Rhaegal."
"With pleasure, milady-oh forgive me, your Grace," Gendry smiled, embarrassed. Ser Barristan raised his eyebrow at the young man and shook his head.
"It is alright, Gendry. You are doing fine with your manners. I am most pleased with you, so you must not fret over such," Dany patted him on the arm before motioning for them to follow her.
Jon spent the rest of the day learning how to approach and command the dragon in High Valyrian. The phrasing and pronunciation came easily, the young man having overheard Sansa's lessons at Winterfell. The beast was quite submissive to him, surprising both Gendry and Dany alike. Rhaegal's relaxed behavior reassured Jon all the more.
When he finally gathered the courage to climb upon the massive creatures back, immediately the dragon danced and emitted a high-pitched noise, to which Drogon and Viserion quickly added their voices.
Dany quickly positioned herself behind him and ordered the dragon to flight. The experience seemed like his most frequent boyhood dream brought to life, though never did Jon expect to have the entire fate of Westeros resting on his shoulders.
Overall, he feels the lesson went well. Jon cannot shake the feeling that it is one thing to ride the creature on a quiet afternoon and quite another to command him in the freezing dead of night with an army of Others descending upon them.
Suddenly he is pulled out of his thoughts by Drogon bellowing out a frightening call. Ghost snarls, the fur raising on his hackles in response, surprising the Lord Commander. Dany and Ser Barristan hurry toward Jon as Rhaegal and Viserion respond with equally unnerving screeching that causes the nearby watchmen to cover their ears.
"Something is wrong, Jon. Drogon senses a threat and his brothers are responding to his aggression. Whatever it is, it must be immense-I have yet to see him in such a state. I have turned them loose."
Jon looks at her in shocked disbelief. "You turned them loose?"
"Do not worry. They will not leave me under such conditions nor will they harm the men. I have made sure they have been well fed since their arrival here." Danaerys says, nervously glancing around while Ser Barristan peers over the castle walls. "Can you see anything below?"
"No, my queen," Ser Barristan replies before catching the arm of a nearby ranger. "However, I trust that direwolf and the dragons more than my own eyesight in the black of night. Go retrieve Gendry-go now, man! Make haste!"
A distant rumbling reaches the battlement, the ground shaking and rattling the massive gates of the castle. Into the torchlight appears a massive horde of Others charging toward Castle Black on their undead mounts. "This is the largest army of White Walkers we have ever seen at one time," Jon says incredulously, looking at Ser Barristan before glancing over the edge of the battlement.
Giant white spiders clamor up the side of the castle walls, hissing as they fight to maintain their hold on the smooth stone masonry. The sound of the dreaded three blasts indicating the castle is under attack resounds above the din. "Everyone, to your positions!" Jon shouts loudly as Ghost snarles and dances beside him. Along the battlements, the line of archers alight their arrows. "Archers, loose!" Ser Rikker shouts, sending fire raining down upon the invaders while the second regimen loads their weapons.
Turning to Danaerys, Jon says, "The battle has come, your Grace!"
Horrified, Dany backs away from the edge of the castle wall. Gendry races up to the group, cautiously looking over the side before jerking his head back in horror at the sight of the giant spiders. "Seven hells," he mutters, turning toward Jon. "I never saw any spider that big, nor so many at once!"
The men stand awaiting instruction from the queen, who appears shaken. "My children were borne for this moment," Dany finally says low, struggling to maintain her authoritative bearing. "My dragons were destined for this, as was I. Ser Barristan, to the dragons. Jon Snow, I wish for Gendry to ride behind you so Rhaegal will be at ease."
"Suits me fine," Jon answers hoarsely while watching the dragons dance anxiously below in the courtyard. Raising his eyes to Danaerys, Drogon takes to flight and lands upon the top of the battlement walls, positioning himself between the inner wall and the invading army.
Understanding the beast's intent, Daenerys calls to Jon as she runs toward the wall nearest Drogon's position. "Call a retreat for any men below at once!"
"Your Grace, there are none of our men down there!" Rikker shouts in reply.
Drogon briefly turns his glowing red eyes toward the sound of Dany's voice and lets out a deafening roar before disgorging a torrent of dragonfire upon the undead creatures ascending the castle walls. A collective shriek briefly echoes among the raiders before the intense blast of flame reduces their bodies to ash, filling the night air with sulfuric clouds of smoke.
The remaining White Walkers quickly halt their attack as Drogon ascends to the highest point of Castle Black. Antagonistically flapping his massive wings, the huge black dragon unleashes another bone chilling roar, challenging the enemy. The frightening noise sends a collective shiver through the men while calling Viserion and Rhaegal to the rooftops of the battlements.
"Jon, you and Gendry go to Rhaegal! Ser Barristan, mount Viserion!" Danaerys shouts. Waving her arm at the black dragon, she calls in High Valyrian: "Drogon, to me!"
Rhaegal and Viserion submissively lower their massive bodies to allow their respective riders. Drogon roars once more and tales to flight, circling the perimeter of the castle walls and unleashing another massive stream of dragonfire upon the enemy before perching on the rooftop above Danaerys.
Unnerved by the dragon's display of power, Jon shakily commands Rhaegal to flight and Ser Barristan leads Viserion beside him, flying close in case of trouble. Below, another wave of Others ready their arrows at the dragons.
"Climb him a bit higher, milord," Gendry says close to Jon's ear as he sees Ser Barristan ascending nearby. "That's it. Those archers will never reach us."
"Call me Jon, Gendry," the Lord Commander nervously says, causing Gendry to smile broadly. "You are friends with my sister and now are my guide in flying your dragon. We can dispense with formalities."
"Aye that I am. Thank you, milord." Gendry nods and laughs again. "The black is quite a sight, isn't he?"
"He certainly is. Does riding such a creature ever get easier?"
"No one rides Drogon but the queen. It is said her dead husband was every bit as ferocious as the beast named for him. IIn time you'll learn the animal's moods and you won't feel quite so intimidated by it," Gendry says. "He'll learn yours as well and quicker than you'd think, too."
The fierce battle rages throughout the night with the Rangers and Stannis' men holding their positions while the dragons advance upon the army of Others, pushing them back on to the ice fields and driving them away from the forested areas.
Dragonfire illuminates the landscape. From his vantage point atop Rhaegal Jon grasps the staggering enormity of the host of White Walkers to which the dragons have laid waste. Miles of scorched black earth pockets the land and yet still more Others emerge from their hiding places, ready to join the battle.
The wights and Others appear as ants covering the ice fields, retreating from the three dragon's fiery onslaught. Gendry offers instruction behind him, telling him when to descend the dragon and call for dragonfire. After several hours, the animal appears to intuitively respond to him until it seems to Jon that he no more than thinks a command before the dragon executes it.
"See, didn't I tell you?" Gendry grins knowingly when Jon turns to look at him. "He knows you already!" Baffled, Jon briefly wonders at this before reminding himself there is no time for pondering in the midst of the campaign.
As dawn breaks over the horizon, the full extent of the battle is revealed by the emerging light of day. Immense swathes of scorched ground lead a frightening path toward the ice fields. Huge pools of melted water drain into the gaping holes left by the dragonfire.
Drogon has aggressively dominated the battle from the beginning and shows no signs of weariness, though the same cannot be said for Rhaegal and Viserion. Holding the last bastion of White Walkers against an ice shelf, Drogon roars out his fury while awaiting Danaerys' command.
Flying low toward Drogon's position, suddenly Rhaegal banks hard to the left, bellowing in agony. "An arrow has pierced his wing!" Shouts Gendry. "Set him down. I think he needs to rest a moment!"
"Rest? Here?" Jon calls. "No, we'll circle near Drogon."
"Viserion has been hit!" Ser Barristan shouts beside them. "Watch out for those archers!"
Rhaegal sharply dives to avoid the arrows, throwing Gendry and Jon from his back and sending both men sliding down a steep ice shelf. Scrambling, Gendry manages to grab hold of a rock jutting out near the edge. Slipping past him, Jon struggles to find purchase in the ice but to no avail. Quickly Ser Barristan comes to Gendry's aid, the young man hurriedly climbing on Viserion's back behind the knight.
Seeing the men's dire predicament, Dany deftly maneuvers Drogon toward Jon. By the time she reaches him, however, the Lord Commander drops over the crag. Falling into the deep snow bank below, Jon scrambles to his feet, causing Drogon to call out in distress. Shaken, Jon draws his battle-worn obsidian sword, only to be quickly overtaken by the last remaining White Walkers.
The Others surround him while their apparent leader dismounts and draws his own crystal weapon. Drogon lets out short bursts of flame to turn them away from Jon but the undead creatures have backed the young Lord Commander against the base of the crag. Slicing through those closest to him, Jon shouts in a rage and the Others quickly raise their weapons to strike. Parrying their blows, Jon can faintly hear Danaerys scream, "Great Stallion, help him! Drogo, hear my words! Help Jon!"
The huge black dragon lands nearest the Others with Viserion and Rhaegal following suit. Dany swiftly dismounts and shouts commands in Valyrian at the great beast. Catlike, Drogon advances and forces the rest of the Others and Jon against the base of the crevasse, snorting and blowing smoke at the enemy.
Enveloped in the choking sulfur haze, Jon continues slashing at the creatures but despite his struggle he soon is overcome. A large White Walker draws near with his crystal sword raised over his head, warily eyeing the Lord Commander and uttering words Jon does not understand. Rhaegal lets out a shriek in response to the attack.
"Jon!" Dany screams out, sinking to her knees. Drogon rushes toward him, dodging his head back and forth and snapping his massive jaws in an attempt to rescue the fallen young man.
Undeterred, the White Walker sharply brings his blade down toward Jon's head. Uttering a prayer to his father, Jon fixes his eyes on Drogon and as the great beast's intelligent molten eyes meet his own, he cries out with all his strength, "Dracarys!"
For three a days a great blizzard descended over the Vale. Sandor and Sansa remained snowbound while Stranger, Sugar and Nymeria shelter in the small barn connected by a wall on the far side of the cabin. On the first day of sunshine, Sandor spends the morning digging out a path while Nymeria eagerly bounds outside, occasionally covering Sansa and Sandor with sloppy kisses.
"You didn't feast on Stranger, did you, bitch?" Sandor chuckles while tossing Nymeria the frozen hind portion of mutton.
"Oh Sandor, how can you even joke about such a thing?" Sansa laughs from the barn while filling the horses' troughs with oats. "She would never do that!"
"The Seven hells she wouldn't!" Sandor rasps, scratching the direwolf under the chin until she flops over on her back. "She may act a cub but if she was left alone hungry with Stranger and Sugar you'd see a whole other side of your pet, believe that."
"Well, alright, maybe she would at that," she concedes, exiting the barn. "Isn't that the whole purpose of you adding the interior door so we could enter the barn through the cabin? So we could care for her?"
"No Little bird, the purpose was to be able to care for Stranger and Sugar, not shelter this vicious beast," he growlswith a smile, all the while rubbing said vicious beast's stomach. "He'd make a tasty treat for you, girl, but then I'd have to skin you."
"Sandor, you are awful!" Sansa shakes her head as she walks back inside the cabin with Sandor.
"You knew I was a black-hearted varmint before we married, lass and there's no taking it back now," he grunts with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, forcing her to kiss him while she laughs and feebly struggles to get away.
"Didn't you get enough the past three days?" Sansa blushes shyly, noticing the familiar hungry gleam in his eye. "Moontea or no, after that amount of lovemaking it will be a miracle if I am not with child."
"Would that be a bad thing?" Sandor asks, suddenly serious.
"No, of course not." Sansa says solemnly, drawing him into her arms. "It would be the best thing that has ever happened to me," Sansa sincerely replies, caressing the burned side of his face. "I have prayed for our family since the day of our wedding."
"Aye, I know you have, wife," he mutters low before kissing her soundly, running his hands through her long auburn hair. "I have wished for it, too."
Nymeria suddenly begins barking at the door as a sharp rap interrupts the couple. "Who the fuck could that be?" Sandor growls as he sets Sansa back on her feet.
"Sandor, we've been alone for three days," Sansa gently chides, straightening her hair and skirts.
"Not long enough, wife," he winks at her devilishly. "Whoever is out there, you'd better be ready to face a mean bitch of a direwolf and an even angrier Hound," Sandor snarls while unsheathing his shortsword.
"My lord, I bring a message from the Eyrie for your lady wife," a tremulous voice comes through the weirwood door. "We received a raven from Castle Black."
"Well, hand it over and be gone!" Sandor jerks open the door and barks at the young man.
"Sandor! Ser, please wait," Sansa says, hurrying outside and handing the page a jar of mulled cider. "Thank you so much for bringing the message," she smiles at the blushing young man.
"Off with you, boy, before I feed you to my direwolf," Sandor wickedly smirks while Nymeria nuzzles his hand for more meat.
Sansa opens the note and reads it as she walks back toward her husband. "Sandor, this is from Ser Barristan Selmy in service of Queen Daenerys. She says we must return to Castle Black at once."
"Aye, I served with him, in fact I've known the old sod most of my life. He's a decent enough fellow."
"High praise coming from you, husband," Sansa giggles softly.
"Why didn't your brother send it? Or Pod for that matter?"
"I do not know," Sansa whispers, raising her hand to her throat. "There is no mention of him anywhere in the letter," she adds, turning the paper over several times. "I thought perhaps a private note would be added at the end."
"We'd better make haste, wife," Sandor says, reaching around her waist and rubbing circles over her midsection.
"Do you think-" Sansa stops short, unable to put her worst fear into words.
"No, Little bird. If such was the case, that fat maester Sam would have sent it," he says casually, not wanting to convey his uneasiness to Sansa.
"Yes, you are right; I had not thought of that. Thank you, Sandor," she nervously smiles while searching his eyes.
"Come now," Sandor turns away from her to hide his worry. "Let's ready the place so we can leave first thing on the morrow; what say you?"
"Oh yes, I will be prepared to leave as soon as you are ready. Let us say prayers, Sandor, for Jon's safety." Sansa replies, taking him by the hand and leading him to the weirwood tree.