This one is a bit fluffy.
Jon
Jon returned to the Lord Commander's solar with Ser Davos, Edd, Tormund, Brienne and Pod. Waiting for him, Sansa had laid out a map of Westeros on his desk, along with a number of scrolls which he suspected would need signing by him. Jon had left her alone for quite a while, he'd needed the fresh air to clear his mind from the horrors of what had befallen his sister no cousin, he had to keep reminding himself. He liked that Sansa was being open and honest with him, they must have had a close relationship in the life Sansa had experienced, yet he wished she hadn't told him. He was disgusted with this revelation, not with Sansa, she was innocent in all of this mess, but with the man who'd inflicted such torture on her. To make matters worse, Jon suspected this was just the tip of the iceberg and that there was more to come. It was that thought which made him want to pummel Ramsey into the ground, only to have Melisandre resurrect him, so that he could kill him again. As much as he was against torture, flaying the Bolton bastard seemed like too good a punishment for the twisted psychopath. Instead, Jon had picked up a sparring sword and began to strike the pell hard, not that he needed the practice, but it usually helped him when he was upset or tense. However, this time it didn't, he just grew more and more angry. He lost track of time, repeatedly hitting the dummy with all of his might, building up a sweat, despite the cold.
"What did the poor fucker do this time?" Tormund laughed and Jon stopped to look at his wildling friend, Tormund's laughter died. "You seem upset King Crow."
Jon bent over and put his hands on his thighs to help him regain his breath. "Your heard the letter which Ramsey sent."
"Aye." Tormund nodded.
"Sansa gave me some details of her time with him." bile rose in his throat once more, fortunately Tormund seemed to understand.
"It sounds like you kneelers are more savage than us Freefolk."
Jon stood back up and shook his head. "I don't know how I can help her." he felt defeated.
Tormund slapped him on the back. "You listened to her. Now go kill the fucker." he shrugged.
"That simple?" Jon asked.
"Well, of course you need to get to him first." Tormund shrugged.
"How many do you have?" Jon hated to ask his friend, but according to Sansa's parchments, the Freefolk had fought at what had been dubbed the Battle of the Bastards.
Tormund thought for a moment as they made their way to the dining hall. "That can march and fight? Two thousand. The rest are children and old people."
"Will you help me? I know it's not your fight." Jon asked. "But we need Winterfell for the long night."
"I will." Tormund nodded. "I can ask the Freefolk elders. The little fucker threatened them too. Will it be enough men?"
"Sansa is working on the rest." Jon told his. "I need to speak to Ser Davos and Edd. You can come too." Tormund nodded and followed.
A few minutes later, Jon, Sansa, Edd, Ser Davos, Tormund, Brienne and Podrick were stood on Jon's solar, around his desk examining a map with a list of parchments. Although he had resigned his post as Lord Commander, Jon had still been placed in charge, with Sansa by his side of what could be considered a war counsel. When he'd returned to find her, gone had the distraught girl, in her place was the woman who had become Queen in the North, as if she'd simply donned a mask. Of course, Jon was the only one who knew the truth, however judging the expressions on the faces of the rest of room, the change in her clearly hadn't escaped anyone else's notice. The moment she spoke, she was a woman who commanded authority, and was used to it.
"We've gathered you here to discuss the future of the north." Jon told them. "First of all, I'll let Lady Sansa speak. She has some vital knowledge which will help us in battle."
"When I was a little girl, I liked to play with my mothers jewellery. Of course, my mother wouldn't let me play with anything of value, so she had some pieces made for me." she clasped her hands together. Jon wondered if it as something she did when she lied, because he knew this was a story she was making up. One which should convince the rest of the counsel of how she knew where to find dragonglass. "My favourite pieces were a tiara with a matching necklace. They contained crystals and obsidian."
"Obsidian is another name for dragonglass. And we need to mine it before the army of the dead march on the wall." Jon told them.
"I thought we were talking about the fight for Winterfell." Brienne frowned.
"We will." Jon nodded. "But first we need to discuss dragonglass."
"Thank you Jon." Sansa gave him a grateful smile, before returning to her story. "The obsidian fascinated me, so I asked Maester Luwin about it, thinking it might be rare. He told me it came from volcanoes, made from lava and that although it wasn't found in many places in Westeros, obsidian was common in Essos and was likely to also be found in old Valyria as the Targaryen's liked to be close to volcanoes, which is why they call it dragonglass." Jon noticed the expression on Ser Davos' face as it began to dawn on him what Sansa was telling them. She pressed her finger on the map, specifically on Dragonstone. "This is where the Targaryen's first inhabited. A volcanic island, similar to their home of old Valyria." she gave Jon a sideways glance, before returning to the map. "This is where you will find dragonglass!"
"Are you sure?" Edd asked.
Ser Davos nodded. "She's right. Dragonstone is built on black rock. I never though much of it. If that's what you're looking for, there's mountains of the stuff."
"Stannis is gone." Jon said. "The island lies empty. This is my last missive." he held up a piece of parchment. "I don't want anyone to claim you are interfering in the realms of men." he told Edd. "Can you gather a dozen brothers to go to Dragonstone?" he asked.
"Aye, I suppose." Edd nodded.
Jon turned to Davos. "Ser Davos, you know Dragonstone well, do you not?"
"I do Lord Commander." Davos agreed.
"Can you sail with a dozen men and mine as much dragonglass on Dragonstone as you can. I also want you to empty the castle of anything useful. Especially the Maester's stores and books."
"Why the books?" Davos asked.
"While I was at Winterfell, I heard word that Daenerys Targaryen's dragons were fully grown. Amongst those who she counts as her closest advisors are Tyrion Lannister, Lord Varys and Ser Jorah Mormont. I do not believe for one moment neither Tyrion Lannister or Lord Varys would be happy to settle down in Meereen. Daenerys already calls herself a Khaleesi, the Mother of Dragons and Queen of Meereen. She has an army of Unsullied and a hoard of Dothraki screamers as her followers. How long do you think it will before she sets her sights on Westeros?" Sansa asked, but nobody replied. "And considering her birthplace was Dragonstone, I suspect that might be where she will head for."
"That seems a reasonable assumption, my lady." Brienne nodded in agreement.
"This is why we need to move fast." Jon told them. "Clear Dragonstone of anything useful. Even down to the bed linen."
"If it is useful on Dragonstone, it will be useful in the north." Sansa smiled.
Jon turned to Ser Davos. "There are four or five ships. I suspect maybe less after Stannis' defeat." he handed a parchment to Davos. "Ride for Eastwatch today with the men. Mine the dragonglass quickly and strip the castle bare. You need to do it quickly, she could set off at any time. You don't want to be arguing with dragons."
Ser Davos cocked his head to one side and shrugged. "I suppose not. And what of the table?"
"What table?" Jon frowned.
"The giant map of Westeros." Davos told him. "Stannis used it to monitor the war of the five kings."
"Would a dozen men be able to carry it from the castle and to a ship?" Sansa asked.
"Aye, I suppose. It's heavy, I'll grant you that, but Stannis had it moved it into a smaller room." Davos said.
Jon and Sansa looked at each other and smiled. "I think that would be a wonderful idea." Sansa smiled at the Onion Night.
"Where will we send the dragonglass?" Ser Davos asked.
"Not here. The smithy is shit, it can't make the amount of weapons we need." Edd said.
"The ships need to be returned to White Harbor, from there send the cargo to Winterfell. We should have retaken the castle." Jon looked to Sansa who nodded her head, as if confirming they'd be back in Winterfell before any shipment would arrive. He turned to Davos. "We'll need a good smith to help with making weapons, which we can make them at Winterfell. Do you know of any smiths where you could call in a favour? Anyone that might want to go to Winterfell?" he almost gritted his teeth, but he'd promised Sansa that he would ensure this Gendry person would come to Winterfell.
Ser Davos nodded. "Aye, I think I know just the lad for the job."
Over the next few minutes, Jon and Edd began to throw around names of those who were deemed the best to go with Ser Davos to Dragonstone, while Sansa, Brienne and Ser Davos watched on in silence. Once they'd finished, Ser Davos said his goodbyes, then he and Edd left to go round up the men to head to Eastwatch to ready the ships. This left Jon, Sansa, Tormund, Brienne and Podrick. Tormund was busy making eyes at Brienne, while Sansa's sworn sword looked extremely uncomfortable.
"Now to retaking Winterfell." Jon said. "Sansa has kindly written out the scrolls here to send to houses Mormont, Mazin and Hornwood." he held the three parchments in the air. "I'll also write to Lords Manderly, Glover and Cerwyn. We shall see who answers, but we can only wait a few days, the weather could change at any moment and visiting Bear Island would be a challenge if the weather gets any worse. The Umbers and the Karstarks have already declared for the Bolton's." he turned to Tormund. "You say you've got two thousand Freefolk who can fight?" he asked.
"Aye." Tormund nodded. "They'll fight for you King Crow."
"Brienne, Podrick, will you help us recruit the bannermen?" Jon asked.
"I swore I would return her to her family, and that would also mean taking her home to Winterfell. I would be honoured to help, although I am not sure how much help I can be." she frowned.
"I believe Lady Lyanna Mormont might be quite taken with you." Jon smiled, remembering what Sansa had told him of the fierce Lady of Bear Island. "She may only be one and ten, but she was able to put Stannis in his place."
"She sounds quite...formidable." Brienne raised an eyebrow.
"Aye that she is." Jon nodded as he noticed the sword with a golden lion pommel on Brienne's hip. "Lannister gold paid for that." he frowned.
"It's called Oathkeeper. It's Valyrian steel." Brienne explained. "Ser Jaime tasked me to ensure Lady Sansa was returned to her home safely. He armed me for that task." she pulled the sword from its scabbard and handed it to Jon to inspect.
"We need all the Valyrian steel we can get. Why would Jaime Lannister want to help Sansa?" Jon handed the sword back to Brienne.
"He made a pledge to Lady Stark before she died. He has a code of honour, even if it is..." Brienne frowned, clearly unsure of how to explain it.
"Twisted." Jon raised an eyebrow. "Is Ser Jaime a friend of yours?" Tormund suddenly seemed interested in this conversation.
"I'd vouch for him." Brienne nodded. "He saved my life when he didn't have to. He also has a Valyrian steel sword."
"Ice was broken down and made into two swords by Tywin Lannister." Sansa explained. "Oathkeeper and Widows Wail. They were revealed at Joffrey's wedding to Lady Margaery." Sansa explained. "Mayhaps we should keep Ser Jaime in mind for the battle against the whitewalkers." she looked to Jon. "He's known to be a good Commander. Brienne might be able to convince him."
"I'm not sure that I have any sway with Ser Jaime." Brienne frowned.
"Right now we concentrate on Winterfell." Jon nodded. "I think that is all for the time being. Sansa and I will send the ravens." Jon turned to Tormund. "Tomorrow, we will visit the Freefolk, see whether they will fight for us."
Tormund turned to Brienne. "Will you be joining us?" he grinned.
"Certainly not!" Brienne looked at him in disdain. "I will be here looking after Lady Sansa."
Jon and Sansa looked at each other, both trying to suppress their laughter. "I think that's all for today. Sansa and I will discuss everything else and report back to you." he said as Tormund, Brienne and Pod filed out of the room. Sansa sat down on the chair and sighed, closing her eyes and relaxing her shoulders.
"Where did that come from?" Jon asked.
"Where did what come from?" Sansa frowned.
"You were like a Queen."
"I just became what I was like in my dreams." Sansa shrugged. "It was easier than I thought."
Jon decided he ought to tell her about his conversation with Melisandre. "Sansa, about the dreams. I spoke with the Lady Melisandre; she told me green dreams weren't dreams. They were from a life already lived. It means R'hllor isn't happy with how your life ended, or your fate and wishes for it to be changed. So he sent you back to make changes to your future."
"Just mine?" Sansa frowned.
"Well, changes to your future would affect those of others, so he may have chosen you because you were the best person to make those changes."
"I suppose that would explain why I found it easy to slip into the role of Lady of Winterfell." Sansa nodded. "Did she say anything else?"
Deciding honesty was the best thing he could offer her, he nodded. "She gave me the salve to heal your physical scars. She told me I would be the one to help with the scars he put in your head. I just need to earn your trust."
Sansa looked surprised, then thoughtful. "I was going to ask Lady Brienne, but I can't see any reason why you can't help." she got up and picked the bottle up from the table where she left it. "I've managed to put it on everywhere else, but there's a spot between my shoulders which I can't reach. Can you do it for me?" Jon suddenly panicked, which Sansa must have spotted. "It is only between my shoulders. You won't see anything. Trust, remember?"
Jon rolled his eyes. "Go on. Turn around." Sansa handed him the salve and turned her back to him. "How far down would you like me to unlace your dress My Lady?" Jon was glad Sansa couldn't see him in that moment, he could feel his face flushed with embarrassment.
"Loosening the top four should be enough." Sansa replied, seemingly ignorant of how bad this would look if anyone should walk in. however, once he'd untied the laces and revealed the flesh beneath, all sense of impropriety disappeared, he understood why Sansa had asked him to do this. She was showing him what Ramsey had done to her, opening up as Melisandre had suggested.
Across her skin were old scars, whip marks, white and faded. They must have been from her time in Kings Landing. But the new scars, were horrific. More whip marks, burns, cuts fashioned into the shape of the Bolton sigil. There were at least six of them, and this was just at the top of her back. Some of them were scabbed over, the skin looked chapped and raw. He dreaded to think how else her body was marked. "Gods, Sansa." he whispered. "What have they done to you?"
"They will disappear." Sansa said, the icy exterior of the Queen returning. "The salve has eradicated all of the scars from my skin. Every blemish has disappeared. These are the only ones left." Jon put some of the pale green salve on his fingers and began to gently work it into the wounds, concentrating hard on not hurting her. "Mmm, that's nice." Sansa sighed, her voice almost trance-like. "Gods, that's good." Jon stopped for a moment. She sounded like she was being pleasured. "Don't stop." she groaned. Jon swallowed and carried on, at the sound of her murmurs of pleasure, his breeches tightened like he was a green boy. He needed to get a control over himself, he was supposed to be protecting her. "Is it working?" Sansa asked, drawing Jon from his desires.
"Umm..." Jon peered closely at her back, and surprisingly, he noticed the redness had already disappeared. The injuries were quickly fading, some of the earlier scars were no longer visible. "It looks like it is. The marks don't look as bad as they did." he stopped, the light green salve now covering her back.
"They will have completely gone within the hour." Sansa turned her head towards him. "I wonder if it will heal yours." she pointed at the one across his eye given to him many years ago by Orell's eagle. "Let's find out, unless you like your scar." she turned around, the top of her dress loose at the front.
"You can try." Jon passed her the salve. "Did it get rid of the pain?"
"It went away as soon as you put it on. It doesn't normally work that quickly, or maybe you had a more gentle touch than I." Sansa blushed. "I'll try to be gentle with you."
"It doesn't hurt." he assured her. "No need to be gentle." he swallowed as she leaned in and began to gently massage the salve into the scar around his eye. Jon closed his eyes and breathed her in, the scent of soap engulfed him. She used to smell of lavender, but she'd had to make do with the soap at Castle Black. Her touch was gentle and warm, more of a caress than anything else. He opened his eyes and glanced down, noticing her dress was falling slightly forward. Before he could get too carried away, and gods he wanted to slap himself for getting carried away; Sansa pulled back.
"Hmm. It's not working." she frowned.
"Maybe she salve was only made for you." Jon suggested.
Sansa put the lid back on the salve and placed it back on the table and came back to sit by the fire. "I was hoping it would help with your...wounds." she looked down sadly. "I know you have problems with them healing."
Jon frowned at this new information. "They don't heal?"
Sansa shook her head. "Not properly. Or so she told me." the venom with which Sansa referred to Daenerys was surprising. It was almost as if she were jealous. Jon had an idea to help put the theory to the test. He'd struggled around her, now it was her turn.
"Why don't you try stitching the wounds up?" he asked.