SANSA
"How many more today?" asked Sansa looking out across the main courtyard from the walkway above.
"Fifteen thousand more bushels my lady, twelve thousand bushels of barley, oats and rye each and two thousand more cattle." Wolkan responded from her right behind her.
"And...will that be enough?"
"Hard to tell my lady, it will be enough to feed the current occupants of the castle for at least two-to-three years, any longer than that…it may become difficult. On top of that, we have no notion of how long this winter will last."
"I've been reviewing Maesters Luwins' records my lady, he was a most intricate man, sadly though it seems all the winters during his lifetime were brief, never lasting more than a year or two." And none with the threat of an army of undead, Sansa thought.
"What about our forces, how many men do we have?"
"We're still finalising the numbers my lady." The Vale knight Lord Royce spoke from her over left shoulder. "More and more Houses have been arriving each day since the ravens were sent out, some will need more time though."
"We may not have more time and any of the houses north of here will have even less, they must be the priority."
"Of course, my lady. However, the mobilisation they're attempting is beyond even that of an ordinary war, let alone one of this scale. There will be only so much they can do."
Will it be enough, will they all make it back, with larders full and swords sharpened?
She was the Lady of Winterfell, it was her responsibility to keep the north and its people safe and fed, lest until Jon returned. Almost as if she were a mother with thousands of children worrying about each and every one of them.
I hope Jon returns soon...soon
Sansa's gaze wandered the courtyard, the sight of men training with sword, spear and lance, stableboys feeding horses, lifting hay bales down from carts, women feeding their babies at the breast, keeping their children close, others sewing different furs layer upon layer.
Sansa could hear the clanging, banging and hissing from the armoury, smiths moulding steel into chest plates, leg braces, med helms. Iron links drawn and coiled before being flattened with hammer and pliers to form chainmail.
Sansa enjoyed the bustle of the people yet she could feel the tentative edge with which they moved. News the wall had been breached spread through the castle quickly, despite the fear however, none of the townsfolk had fled south, committing to staying within the walls.
Because northerners are different, northerners are loyal, loyal to the Stark name, loyal to Winterfell. The ravens had flown far and wide the morning Sansa heard the news from her brother.
She caught the glimpse of a soldier approaching them along the walkway from the left, "A raven my lady, from White Harbour, the King rides for Winterfell with haste." Sansa felt her eyes widen and her mouth agape, Finally, at last..
"Lord Royce, gather the northern lords in the great hall, Maester Wolkan find my brother, get him seated and Arya also."
Both men acknowledged, bowed and left quickly in opposite directions. "May I see that?" Sansa extended her hand to the soldier. Taking the scroll in hand, Sansa scanned the piece of parchment reading her brother's word.
Sansa, we ride for Winterfell in a few days, the snows may slow us down a day or two but before long I'll be back home. You must send word to all the northern houses and call the banners, now the wall has fallen, our time is ever more limited. I hope Arya and Bran are doing well, stay strong sister, we'll all be together again soon. Jon
Sansa rolled the parchment up in her glove, she nodded to the young soldier who bowed and took his leave in return. Her grip on the scroll tightened slightly, He didn't mention her...the dragon queen...though why would he, I already know she'll be with him, everyone in the castle knows she'll be with him.
Securing the letter, Sansa descended the balcony walkway and made her way through the courtyard to the great hall. Weaving through the townsfolk, many smiling and bowing as she passed. Guards standing to attention as she approached.
The hall was sparsely full when she entered, Bran was already seated in his chair, she took her place at the head of the table next to him.
"Where's Arya?" She enquired hastily. "Maester Wolkan said she'll be along soon, she was training." Bran replied flatly. Of course she was, Sansa thought, She's done precious little else since she came home. Samwell Tarly was seated next to Bran; he rose clumsily as he saw her.
"Lady Stark." He said, bowing his head.
"Good to see you Samwell, you've scarcely left the library, I hope all is well."
"Yes my lady, there are many books' rich with knowledge. I've been making my way through them looking for anything that could be of use. Progress has been…slow but I'm getting there."
"Good to hear. I pray you find something."
As the hall began to fill, the noise quickly rose, Sansa spotted Lord Royce enter followed by a number of men, lords of the lesser northern houses mostly from south of Wintefell, Lord Rodrik Forrester of Ironrath, Lord Robyn Flint of Widow's Watch, Lord Marlin Dormund of Dormund Keep and Lord Ludd Whitehill of Highpoint were among the men Sansa recognised, most older men, with white beards and white hair, some were younger, with black of hair, their faces more slender, more sharp.
Hearing footsteps approach and pass behind her, Arya rounded the table, standing just off to the left. She never sat alongside her, she always stood, off to the side or along the walls edge, lingering like a cat in the shadows watching carefully.
"What's this about?" Arya questioned to her. "It's Jon." Sansa said with a small smile, "He's coming home, he rides for Wintefell."
"He's finally coming back?" Arya quipped excitedly, "How long till he returns?"
"Hard to say, with the weather turning day and night the road won't be easy. Another week as least."
The room was a hubbub of noise and bustle now, Sansa stood to her feet, "My lords…my lords…" She spoke loudly, "The time has come, The King has returned. We must begin preparations for his arrival, as well as continue preparations for the war ahead. The dragon queen commands an army of Dothraki and a legion of Unsullied, temporary shelters will need to be set up outside the castle walls to the south, we'll know how many exactly once we know the full extent of her forces. Our food stores will also have to be rationed to accommodate for the increased populace of the castle."
"Which Lords have not yet returned Maester Wolkan?"
The robed man spoke up from her right, "Lord Glover left Deepwood Motte a week past my lady, Lord Umber currently remains at the Last Hearth, a heavy snowfall has forced them to hold out on moving south till the weather improves. Lord Hornwood and Lord Tallhart are marching hard and should be here within the next few days.
The sooner they return, the better…I do hope they return.
"Until the remaining lords return, this is our main focus; Lord Flint, you will oversee shelter buildings to the south-east, Lord Dormund, you will oversee to the south-west, Lord Forrester, you to the south." She continued, "I myself will oversee the dispersion and rationing of our food stores moving forward. Once the King returns, we will have a much clearer view of organising our defence. Is there anything else?"
"I've been receiving correspondence from the archmaesters at the Citadel, my lady, snowstorms and windchills have thoroughly taken over the majority of towns and cities throughout the kingdoms…winter is most certainly here. With the decreased activity on the roads, many may become blocked, some impassable. Any ravens sent out will be drastically impeded on their journeys and so must be allowed more time."
"Understood Maester Wolkan, we should all get moving." Raising her voice to reach the corners of the room, "time is not our friend, it is no longer a luxury we can afford and with what's coming, the time we do have cannot be wasted."
The hour had grown later than she realised, the parchments and scrolls of accounts, appointments and plans formed mountains of paper, organised neatly across the desk. Reviewing documents and records could be tedious at times but Sansa found herself more than proficient at it, like her mother before her she imagined.
She could feel the warmth from the fireplace, across the table, the flames dancing from side to side intertwining amongst the smouldering logs. Scattered across the tables and desks, the wicks of candles flickered with the breeze of the evening wind as it whipped through the arched window to her left.
A knock followed by a voice came from behind the door, "Pardon my lady, it's your sister."
"Send her in."
Opening the door a jar, Arya slithered inside, quiet as a mouse.
"It's late…" Sansa said as she watched her sister perch herself against a table next to the window.
"Couldn't sleep." She replied, almost in a whisper.
"Everything ok? Too excited to see Jon?" Sansa suggested teasingly
"Yes of course." She replied eagerly, her tone elevated slightly, almost childlike. "It's just…I have dreams sometimes…bad dreams…about father…about Robb…about my training in Braavos. They seem so real at times."
"Are you alright, do you want to sit down?" Sansa offered.
"No…thank you. I'll stay by the window; I like the breeze."
"You dream about father?"
"That day at the square in front of the Sept, with Joffrey, the executioner…" Arya trailed off.
"I remember…" Sansa recalled; Sometimes I wish I didn't…
"Each time I'm there, I feel myself getting closer to him, to saving him but I'm always too late."
"We shouldn't have had to see something like that Arya, it's only natural that it would affect us."
"Doesn't make it any easier though."
"No, it doesn't…but he'd be proud of you, of us and he'd be glad to see us all back here…back home."
"I know…" A silence hung in the air before Sansa broke it.
"You've been training a lot, I've seen you sparring with Ser Endrew, how is that coming along?"
"It's going well, my training was cut short in Braavos but I learnt a lot. My purpose now is to master everything I did learn and with what's coming I think I'll need it." She replied exhaling a slight sigh.
"Well, that's what you always wanted wasn't it, to pick up a sword and to fight, just like father."
"And you always wanted to be a Lady, to wear beautiful dresses, have elaborate hairstyles and don refined crowns."
"Seems we both got what we wanted in the end...somewhat..." Sansa remarked, smiling.
"We just have to hope it lasts. You've been reviewing the accounts with Maester Wolkan, how are they looking?"
"Complicated, if not slightly cluttered. It's been a difficult process, there've been people coming and going since we defeated the Boltons, more and more houses have been arriving each day."
"I'm not even sure it's being monitored accurately and once Jon returns with the dragon queen and her forces…it's going to be a challenge and on top of all this, we have no notion of how long this winter will last. Jon told me this winter will be the longest in living memory, so if the dead don't get us, the weather will."
"What about Bran?" enquired Arya. "Do you think he could help us?"
"What do you mean?"
"His visions, he can see things before they happen can't he, won't he be able to see the end of this winter?"
"I don't know, possibly…but you've seen him. He doesn't exactly seem focused these days, does he? The few times I have spoken to him, he speaks sporadically, almost in riddles or sentences that don't make sense…I don't know."
Sansa worried for her brother, he hardly spoke nor left the godswood now, remaining out there for hours at a time, in the wind and the cold. She remembered when he came home, to have her brother back was a miracle of the gods, except it wasn't her brother, not really. The boy that returned was only a shadow of the brother she knew.
"Do you think he'll ever tell us what really happened to him?" asked Arya.
"Hm, I'm not even certain he knows." Sansa replied. "I worry about him though."
"Me too."
"Perhaps Jon will be able to talk to him, he was always closer to Bran than either of us were."
"I remember when Robb and Jon used to help him practise archery in the courtyard."
"You always used to sneak off from embroidery lessons to watch them."
"I didn't think you ever noticed; you were always the pride of Septa Mordane. She always gushed over everything you made."
"I noticed more things than you know, I never always knew where you were but I always knew when you weren't there."
"Arya…I've been meaning to ask you…that day I found those faces in your room. That wasn't all I found, there was a list…a list of names. Were those people you wanted dead?"
"Yes…at least it started out that way."
"And the ones that were crossed-out?"
"Were the ones I knew to be dead…I even managed to kill some of them myself." She said coldly.
"Which ones?" Sansa pried after a brief quiet.
"Walder Frey, Meryn Trant, a few others but you wouldn't know them."
"You killed Meryn Trant?" Sansa asked with a hint of quiver in her voice.
"Do you remember him?"
"How could I forget? He used to beat me in the throne room in front of the whole court on Joffrey's orders. I don't think I will ever forget him, his grotesque face, his cold eyes… Where did you find him?"
"In Braavos, not long after I started my training. He was escorting a man; I didn't know his face. They looked to have business with the Iron Bank but I didn't know for sure. I never saw the man he was with again after I killed him."
Sansa looked down at her hands, intertwining her fingers nervously, "And..how…how did you kill him?" Sansa saw her sister smile ever so slightly as she half turned towards her,
"I killed him slowly, I gouged his eyes, I dug my knife deep into his flesh, in his back, in his chest, in his side. Then I told him who I was, why I was killing him…then I cut his throat from ear to ear."
A long silence caught the air again, Sansa brought her hands to the table, "Good…I'm glad he's dead, he deserved it." I hope it wasn't quick.
"He deserved worse." Arya replied coldly. "Have you killed anyone, yourself?" she continued
"No…but I was responsible for one."
"Who?"
"You wouldn't know him, he was the one who held Winterfell after the Ironborn."
"What was his name?"
Sansa found herself pausing, almost unable to speak, "His name was…it doesn't matter." She sighed, shaking her head, "his name doesn't matter, it's gone from the world now and it won't ever be coming back."
"I'm sure he deserved it." Her sister replied.
"He did…he most certainly did."
"How did you do it?"
"After the battle was over…and we had won. We locked him in a cell in the kennels, the day before he bragged about how he'd starved the hounds for seven days, how they were ravenous and how he wondered which parts of Jon they'd eat first."
"A few nights after I paid a visit to the kennels, I'm quite sure he thought he would spend the rest of his days there, slowly wasting away day by day, starving as his hounds had been. But I couldn't rest knowing he was still breathing, knowing everything that he'd done."
"So I had the guards open the kennel gates while the hounds slept…and when they woke they had a fresh meal waiting for them."
"You fed him to his own hounds?"
"They were starving…and I wanted him to suffer. I watched as they got a taste for him then left them to it."
"Sounds like a fitting way for him to go."
"It was, yes, it's a shame this army of the dead might just make it all for naught."
"It would still have been worth it Sansa, what those men did to our family, to father and mother, Robb and Rickon. Knowing that they've met their demise, regardless of what happens now, it will have been worth it."
"You're right…you are…I think this is one of the first things we've actually agreed on, unfortunate as it is." Sansa saw her sister smirk slightly, a sight she had not seen for some time, a welcome one to be sure.
Relations hadn't been entirely amicable between them since her return. But Sansa had never been close to her sister, she was almost the complete opposite to her and it seemed nothing had changed in that regard.
Knowing her sister had murdered numerous people strangely did not surprise Sansa yet it still sat awry in her stomach. But she trusted that whatever circumstances Arya found herself in on her journey, she did what was necessary to survive.
Fixing her gown, Sansa rose to her feet, "it's beyond late now Arya, I'm afraid I must rest, there's plenty more work to be done tomorrow." Nodding Arya turned towards the door, Sansa reached a hand to her shoulder, "Try and get some sleep if you can."
"You too sister, I'll see you on the morrow." Sansa suspected whether she would rest or simply head to the nearest open fire conversing with the night guards whilst chowing down a stew.
Turning back to the mounds of parchments and scrolls, Sansa found the bed a far more appealing endeavour, changing to her nightwear and sinking into the sheets beneath the blanket, Sansa felt herself drift off to the blissful breeze of the night wind and the gentle shine of the crystal moon.
