Chapter 5

Jon II

"I thought you were dead" he whispered into her hair tightening his grip around her. She looked up and even in the darkness he could see her piercing blue eyes. Jon tried hard not to let any tears fall but one broke free and she immediately reached for his face and tenderly wiped it away with her thumb. He took hold of her hands, closed his eyes then rested his forehead on hers and they stood there for a few moments just breathing.

"Are you alright?" she looked up and gently touched his chest.

Gods they must have told her. "You know what happened?"

She nodded, her face crumpled and she buried her head in his shoulder.

"I'm fine, really," he tried to comfort her by stroking her hair "the wounds still hurt a bit but I'm alright."

"I can't believe they did that to you" she muffled into his body.

"No, neither can I" he said with a hint of bitterness.

"They said you wouldn't be here until tomorrow because of the snow storm" she said looking at his face.

"I wanted to get here, I couldn't believe it was really you."

"It's me," she said letting out a little laugh "you must be frozen."

"I'm used to it" he smiled softly.

Sansa pulled at his hand and walked him over to the furs by the fire where they sat down. He could see her more clearly in the firelight, she'd been a girl when he last saw her but was very much a young woman now, tall too but still as delicate as ever. They were still holding hands and he thought about letting go but despite feeling a little awkward, didn't really want to. They had never been close, far from it, but she was his sister nonetheless and the contact was nice.

"What are you thinking about?" she had been staring at him.

"The past" he said cautiously. Sansa took her hand from his slowly and placed it in her lap.

"'I've been thinking about it too, all the way here actually and I'm so sorry" she said "how I treated you, I was..."

He could see tears forming in her eyes again "there's no need to be sorry, I always understood. You were so close to your mother and my being there hurt her and…"

"The others didn't react like me though, Arya especially, she was practically your shadow."

"It was different, you and I, we didn't really have much in common. I never really dreamt of marrying a handsome prince" he said, hopeful that she would take it the spirit it was meant.

She smiled sadly "that didn't work out too well for me."

"What happened to you Sansa?" he was deeply concerned.

"Many things, far too many to talk through in the middle of the night and I'm tired, you must be too."

"I am." His sister had just deftly shut the conversation down but this wasn't the time to pursue it.

"Sleep in here?" she said.

"Of course. Right here by the fire."

Sansa leaned over to give him another hug "don't leave the tent before waking me, I don't want to think that I dreamt it all."

"I won't."

Jon lay down and watched his sister climb under the furs and settle. Ghost padded over to her giving him the cold shoulder, Jon could hardly blame him and wondered if Ghost knew how it had near killed him to abandon him like that. It was hard not to laugh out loud when he realised he was thinking on how to make amends to a wolf.

Sansa was soon sleeping and a fierce sense of protectiveness washed over him. Gods, if she knew the state in which Ser Davos had found him earlier that day, at an Inn in Mole's Town in bed with a whore after drinking himself into near stupor, she would be disgusted. Ser Davos had apparently knocked on the door several times but Jon didn't hear and woke to the man shaking him, it was so embarrassing, that wasn't the kind of man Jon thought he was. Ser Davos told him he needed to come with him now and would say more when they were alone, so she'd gotten out of bed and not only washed in front of Ser Davos but also asked for payment. His hands had gone over his face just as they did now as he lay by the fire remembering, he'd been mortified, he'd never done anything like that before and was full of shame. Despite not having known Ser Davos long he knew the old knight respected him but that would have diminished now, like Maester Lewin's would if he'd behaved in a way that wasn't becoming for a son of Eddard Stark. Jon wanted that respect back but it would have to be earned.

When Ser Davos told him that Sansa had arrived at Castle Black his first thought was that it was some kind of ruse but couldn't believe Ser Davos would do something that cruel. His second thought was that is wasn't Sansa but when Ser Davos described her he dared to believe it might be true and had scrubbed himself red with pine soap praying that if it was her, the smell of alcohol and cheap scent would go undetected. When he heard she'd been at Winterfell Jon was beside himself. How long had she been there and what had been done to her? How did she even get to Winterfell? He tried not to let his mind run wild because sleep was the priority and she was here in the tent, safe, and they would talk when they were both well-rested. His body ached, his chest still hurt and he had the mother of all hangovers but managed to make himself comfortable and eventually, sleep took him.

The next thing he knew was the feel a woman's hand touching his arm and for the briefest moment he wondered where he was.

"Jon" she said softly.

He opened his eyes and saw Sansa smiling. "I haven't opened my eyes to a better sight in a very long time" he said sincerely and dragged himself into a seated position.

"I don't know how late it is, the snow storm is still going strong."

"I should find Tormund, get us some food too" he said getting up stiffly.

Jon put some more logs on the fire to keep his sister warm, kissed her briefly on the forehead and went out into the snow but could barely see, it was practically a white out. He found Tormund's tent and stepped inside tentatively, there was no point calling out in the wind. It must have been late because from the looks of things they'd already eaten.

"Miss me did you?" Tormund said not even looking up from the table.

"Terribly"

"How's your sister?"

"Tired, I don't know anything more yet."

"You?"

"The same. Is there anything to eat?"

"Not much in the storm no, I have a little meat left," Tormund found a plate and cut up the meat, he was right, there wasn't much. Jon went to retrieve Sansa and they sat at the table with Tormund, he shared the scraps of meat with his sister which they ate with their fingers, much to her discomfort.

"I've been thinking," Sansa said "if we're going to raise an army large enough to fight the dead then we have to re-take Winterfell and call the banners."

"What, no, we need to go South and get away from this place."

"Jon, what are you talking about?"

"Sansa it's not up to us, the Bolton's hold the North, it's their job to defend it."

"The Boltons! Do you think they will do anything!? They are traitors and only care about what they can get for themselves, they don't care about the North or its people. I should know, I was with them for over four moons" she shouted.

"With what army would we take back Winterfell Sansa!?" he shouted back.

"We are the sole surviving children of the true Warden of the North, if we contact the northern houses they will rally to us" she said with conviction.

"You don't know that," Jon shouted "you don't know who is loyal to us and who isn't, the Bolton's could have any of them in their pockets for any number of reasons so contacting them would only serve to warn the Bolton's, we'd suffer a crushing defeat and end up back in the same position we are now, except we'd be dead."

"There must be another way."

"There is, we leave."

"We CAN'T" she said fiercely "you're the only surviving son of Eddard Stark, it's your duty to your House."

"I'm a bastard, I don't have a House."

"I can't BELIEVE you just said that," she stood, furious, "when Edd told me all that you had done I thought you were a hero but you're not, you're a coward and not fit to ever wear the colours of House Stark" she stormed out the tent. Jon thought he was going to explode and stormed out after her into the blizzard, caught her up, grabbed her arm and shouted at her.

"How DARE you call me a coward, you have no idea about the things I've had to do, what it's done to me." She pulled her arm out of his grip forcefully and stared at him, even though they were no more than a foot apart and her face was obscured by the storm it was venomous, then she turned and tried to run through the thick snow to her tent. Jon just stood there, seething yet broken. He wanted to scream, punch something, hack something to pieces. Tormund would have an axe, he'd chop firewood. He stormed back into his tent.

"I need an axe" Tormund pointed to the corner, speechless. Jon strode over, yanked it out of a piece of wood and stormed out again.

He could barely see where he was going but thought he could make out some trees and headed in that direction. The wind was whipping up the snow and he had to hold his arm in front of his face to try to see, any sane person would have turned back but Jon was running solely on rage. He found the forest and started hacking at the nearest tree, couldn't even see how big it was or the marks the axe was making and frankly didn't care if it fell on him. The axe was slipping in his frozen hands and he was close to cutting himself to ribbons several times but just carried on hacking away with all the force he could muster. He'd surely torn the stiches in his wounds as his chest was burning but he didn't care. He heard a primal scream leave his own body that scared the life out of him and he dropped to his knees, panting so heavily he could barely catch breath. The heat in his body soon evaporated and left cold sweat and blood in its wake, there was pain in every part of his body but it was the desolation inside that hurt the most.

He managed to get up but was weak and knew he would die from exposure if he couldn't find his way to the camp but it was nowhere in sight. He wanted to see his sister even though she'd said some awful things to him that had cut him to the very bone, maybe she was right, maybe he was a coward, he didn't think he had another fight in him. He tried to focus on where he was going but couldn't even see his own footsteps. How ironic, brought back only to die in a snow storm after a fight with Sansa. He trudged on looking around desperately and thought he saw the outline of a tent. He tried hard to get there but the snow was deep and he was exhausted so just kept putting one foot in front of the other. Now he was certain he could see a tent, he forced himself onwards and hope took hold when he realised he was right, it was a tent, he walked in and found an old couple inside.

"Tormund" was all he could manage. The old man pointed to the right so he set out again and kept walking for what felt like forever. Then he heard something in the distance, Ghost howling, he followed it as best he could. It was getting louder and it was a little easier to see through the snow inside the camp, he was weaving in and out and suddenly he saw his wolf, guarding Sansa's tent, Jon walked straight in and just stood there. She was lying face down on the bed.

"Sansa" he said weakly.

She turned and looked up "Oh Gods Jon, what have you done?" Her eyes were red and her face blotchy, she'd been crying and he stood there like a fool. She got up and reached for his hand, then jumped.

"You're bleeding, come and lie down."

He did what she asked and nearly collapsed on the bed. Sansa inspected his hands then put her hand on his chest. He winced in agony.

"Melisandre, wounds" was all he said.

Sansa pulled some furs over him "stay there" she said, as if he was going to go anywhere!

He must have fallen straight to sleep as she was suddenly back and pulling the furs off him.

"Where's Melisandre?"

"I'll do it" she said and started to take his leather jerkin off but he couldn't do much to help her. He moved as best he could when she told him to and as she pulled his last vest up she took a sharp intake of breath. He didn't want her to see his wounds but was too exhausted to do anything about it. She got the vest over his head and he felt a warm, wet cloth on his chest, it was comforting. She washed his upper body and hands in silence, dried him and started to re-stich the stab wounds. It hurt like hell but she was delicate and fast and was bandaging his hands when she spoke softly.

"I didn't mean it. When I said you were a coward, and the rest of it, I didn't mean it and I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have shouted at you like that. Anyway, maybe you're right."

"I'm not. You're incredibly brave and just as much a Stark as I am. I'm proud to be your sister."

"I don't feel very brave, I don't know who I am anymore, I don't know what I am or if I have any fight left in me, all I've done is fight since I left home."

"I can see that from the wounds on your body," she said sadly.

Jon reached to hold Sansa's hand in his bandaged one. She took it and lay down next to him and pulled the covers over them burying her head in his neck. It felt so nice, so soothing to have her there with him.

"What did you do to yourself?" she asked.

"I tried to chop down a tree and failed."

"You're an idiot," she said kissing his cheek.

"I know" he resting his head on hers.

"Let's sleep, we've both been through so much."

Jon drifted off peacefully with his sister snuggled up next to him.

They must have been out for quite some time because when Jon next opened his eyes it was getting dark and even though the bed was warm the tent wasn't. He really didn't want to get up but his stomach was rumbling loudly and he needed to get the fire going again. He rose slowly feeling the pull of his new stitches.

"Seven hells" he called out. Sansa woke, startled. Brienne was sitting at the entrance to the tent watching them.

"Good, you're awake. Are you well my Lady?"

"Yes thank you Brienne" Sansa said sleepily.

"Everyone is meeting at Tormund's tent for food," she said "the storm broke not long ago and some of the animals died so we'll eat well tonight."

"We'll be there shortly" Jon said.

She left and Jon reluctantly got out from under the covers and went to re-build the fire so it would be warm when they got back. Sansa crawled back under the furs.

"Get up sleepy head" he said to her as he pulled his tops back on, they were still wet.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Better thanks to you."

After he got the fire going Sansa dragged herself out of bed and they walked the short distance to Tormund's and entered the tent, both a bit sheepish. The whole host were sitting at the table drinking and talking, Jon still couldn't look at Ser Davos and sat next to Sansa, opposite Melisandre who smiled at him knowingly. They were the last to arrive and an awkward silence fell until someone courageously decided to break it.

"I heard you two had quite the fight," Ser Davos said. Jon silently cursed his wildling friend for being a tattle tale.

"My money was on her" Tormund said provokingly. Jon didn't bite.

"Very wise" Sansa said sweetly. There were a few laughs and Jon felt her reach for his hand under the table.

Elinne and Anja appeared with a big pot holding some kind of meat stew and it smelt amazing. Jon was struggling not to spill it everywhere he was eating so fast. He saw Sansa out of the corner of his eye trying to eat daintily though she was clearly as hungry as he was. He chuckled under his breath, she nudged him playfully, their fight was definitely over but the things she'd said were playing on his mind. What would their father say to him if he were here? He would not be best pleased that was for certain. As they were finishing supper Jon heard some noise outside, a horse. Tormund went to investigate and soon returned accompanied by Edd.

"Good, you're back, a letter came for you" Edd said flustered.

"I'm not the Lord Commander anymore."

"I know that Jon but considering it has the flayed man Sigel on it I assumed it was for you" he replied moodily.

Sansa's head snapped to Jon, she looked afraid. Jon took the letter from Edd and started reading it out loud.

"Bastard, return my wife to me or I'll kill all your wildling friends and…" he stopped suddenly staring at the letter.

"What?" Sansa asked.

"He has Rickon." Jon was stunned, Sansa nearly tore the letter out of his hand and read in silence.

"He says he'll flay him if you don't return me and…Gods he's killed them" she said in shock.

"Who?" Jon said.

"Roose Bolton, his wife Walda and unborn child, or maybe she had it and it was a boy" Sansa drifted off.

Jon took the letter back and read the rest whilst his sister sat there in stunned silence along with everyone else. They were all looking at him.

"He's signed it Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North." Jon was outraged.

"What should we do?" Sansa asked him.

"We're going to take back the North"

"But, you said we don't have an army."

"We might," Jon said "I can't imagine Walder Frey will take kindly to the murder of his daughter and grandchild."