The rebel's riders were close behind them, close enough to hear their hooves breaking ground in a thundering applause. Sansa clutched her reins, urging on Della, her dappled black and red mare. Ahead of her, she could see in the moonlight the backs of Aden and Jon's horses, as close as Jon could get them to ride without tripping them up. Brienne was to her right, riding just as furiously, her face grimaced.
Nearly half a mile from the castle, she heard a huge explosion. She screamed, glancing over her shoulder to see the largest circular turret crumbling.
Ahead of her, Aden's horse had startled. It broke into a dead run, tearing away from Jon. Jon froze momentarily, and then leaned forward. He dug his heels into the sides of the horse, urging it forward, faster.
Sansa looked around again, and saw in horror that Aden was suddenly much further than anyone else in their party.
Then beside her, Ghost streaked past. She urged the horse faster with an desperate tightening of her stirrups.
Jon watched Ghost pass him too, heading towards Champion and Aden. He swore, knowing Ghost might only succeed in startling the horse further, causing him to throw Aden, instead of just taking him along for the ride. He tried to call to Ghost, but the normally obedient wolf ignored him, narrowing it's eyes on Aden.
Aden clutched onto the horse desperately, as hard as his little hands would allow. He shut his eyes, trying just to focus on the movement of Champion beneath him.
Jon was gaining on him, nearly to Champion's tail now. He called his son's name, trying to get him to turn.
Then, Champion whinnied, loud and desperate, and bucked his neck. Aden loosened, and despite Jon nearly reaching him, he fell to the opposite side of the horse. Immediately, Champion slowed. Before he could process what had happened, he was way past Champion.
He made a strangled noise, a combination of anguish and terror, and turned the horse round, slowing it.
When he looked back, Ghost hadn't stopped running, and instead was still heading in the same direction.
And on his back, Jon realized, was Aden, clutching onto Ghost's thick white withers for dear life.
Jon cried out again, a victorious shout of appreciation for his wolf. Ghost slowed as he approached Jon. Jon reached down, just slightly, and lifted Aden onto his horse, between his chest and Stranger's neck. Aden was shaking, and clutched onto Stranger's mane, his little fists trembling.
"Breathe, Aden." Jon said, smoothing his son's hair.
Sansa rode up then, her face a mess of tears.
"The riders turned back." she said. "To attend to the fire, I expect."
The rest of their men approached them now, slowing as well.
"Are you alright, Aden?" Sansa asked, nearing him, taking his face in a free hand. She met his eyes. They were scared, a little, but fiery and determined.
"They're burning our home." he said, pointing at the castle in the distance.
"Uncle Bran won't let them." Jon said. "He's the Lord of Winterfell now."
"Not papa?" Aden asked, his face falling.
"No." Jon said simply, glaring at the fire in the distance. "Not me."
"Why the Iron Islands?" Sansa finally had the chance to demand of Jon as they made camp in a hidden clearing, right before dawn.
"Because Theon has a loyalty to you." he said simply. "You saved him, Sansa. And Yara is a friend of the Queen's. That's the safest and closest place, before we go to King's Landing."
"King's Landing?" she asked. "That's another month past the Iron Islands. What about Bran? Or Arya, how will she know?
"If she returns to Winterfell, she won't be harmed. The rebels rose against me, and maybe you. But mostly me." Jon said. "Stark children will be safe."
Sansa followed Jon into the tent, ducking slightly. She couldn't even stand up straight, so she settled for settling on a pile of blankets ontop of a bed roll. Kyria was still on her hip, although she'd been un-secured. She whined, yanking at her mother's blouse. Sansa weened her a couple months before, but when she was particularily upset, Sansa allowed her, and luckily, it had been frequent enough to where she still had milk.
She loosened her top, unbound the linen tightly wound around her chest, and let a breast fall out. Kyria settled in her lap, curling up like an infant. Sansa let her hair fall, creating a small cover for her daughter. Aden scurried in a moment later, Ghost peeking in behind him, and then settling down just outside the tent door. Aden went to the corner, and found a heavy wool blanket to wrap himself in. He pulled it over to his mother, and settled down beside her, resting his head on her leg.
Sansa took a deep breath, looking down at her children. She thought vaguely of the small bump beneath her pants. A child, she realized, she could lose like she did the Bolton child.
Jon realized her thoughts, as she had absentmindedly brushed her fingers over her abdomen.
"Oh gods, Sansa." Jon said, remembering. "You shouldn't even be on horseback."
"There's no time for worries like that." she said, her voice firm. "What do you suggest, turning round for a carriage? I feel fine, and we have no other option for me other than to ride."
He looked defeated.
"Are you hungry?" he asked her.
"I should eat something." she admitted. "Aden too."
"I'll be back." Jon said.
Outside, the men had started a fire, and were making a iron pot of hunted rabbit and potatoes. There was also a heavy pot of boiling water, which people were mixing into tea leaves. Jon did this, into a heavy pewter mug, with a dash of Pear Brandy borrowed from one of his men. He'd fixed up a heavy bowl for Sansa and Aden to share. He'd eat later, once they fell asleep soundly.
He returned to the tent, passing Sansa the bowl of stew. She took a sip, relishing it's warmth. She handed the bowl to Aden, who sat up to drink it.
Jon handed her the tea next, and she took a whiff.
"Is this how you like it, or how I like it?"
"Barely a splash, so how you like it. I'll get more later, to sleep."
She took a sip, and relished the familiarity of the tea.
"I have to go talk to the men, and see what happened." he said. "A small group of raiders shouldn't have broken into the castle without more preparation, unless..." he trailed off.
"Someone let them in." Sansa said, her voice laced with anger.
"Aye."
"I'll come out, too, when they're asleep." she said, and he nodded.
She took another sip of the bowl Aden held. Jon crawled out of the tent.
It was apparent, Jon's call to order stronger outside patrol in response to the Reed letter, had only made the inside more vulnerable. With all the extra men a good length away from the castle, someone inside, a rogue guard or steward, had the gates lowered, and the small group of raiders were easily able to take over the men inside. It was put to an end, as soon as the perimeter guards heard of it, but not before they were able to set the castle ablaze.
He discussed this with the men, over the fire, talking in low voices with cups of brandy in their hands. Jon ate, and was soon joined by Sansa. The dawn was only just beginning to break in the distance, the first glimpses of day light just appearing over the far hills.
She took the cup of brandy from Jon's hands without a word, and finished it. She shivered. He looked at her, surprised.
"You alright?" he asked, and she nodded.
"I will be." she said. "Once we have walls around us again. I feel more...exposed than I like to."
"I know what you mean." he said, laughing slightly, thinking of the wall. Even the enormous walls of Winterfell had felt like a chicken fence in the first few weeks of being back. She smiled back at him, grimly.
"Theon'll be excited to see you." she commented. "It's been a while."
"And Yara will be thrilled to see you." he said, his tone ironic. She sighed.
"She always is."