Author's Notes: Hey everyone, I hope you all enjoyed your Christmas, I did. As always I own nothing.
Several days later Sansa made her way to the godswood. Since returning to Winterfell and receiving her brother's crown Sansa had had stonemasons crafting a tomb in her family crypt. This morning she had declared that she was going to the godswood to pray for him and all who had died at the Red Wedding. As this was private event she announced that she would go and pray alone, some had objected to her course of action but, in the end, she was Lady of Winterfell and the choice was hers to make and she set off for the godswood.
She had always preferred the sept to the godswood when the family had been whole, but she remembered the way. She had always found the godswood to be a little unnerving, there was something…primal about it, as if something very old dwelt there and it was not clear if it was benevolent or malevolent. Still, it was expected and it was not as if there was actually anything there. The old gods were no more real than the Seven were and any other feelings were only in her mind. She came to the pool where her father had cleaned Ice when he used it to take a man's head. Sansa came to a spot in front of the ancient weirwood tree and went down on her knees. She was expected to pray, but as she no longer believed in the gods she chose instead to talk to her dead family. She knew that they could not hear her. But here, in this place, she could almost believe that they could hear her.
"Father, I wish you were here. I never understood how hard ruling is, I wish you could ask your advice. I know that you cannot hear me, but I just want to say that I'm sorry…I'm so sorry. I was stupid…and selfish…and…" She could not go as tears were threatening to choke her. After a moment she regained control of herself and continued, she did not think that she had much time and she had things that she wanted to say.
"Mother, I wish that I could see you again. I wish that you could see that we were wrong about Jon. I always wanted to be a queen, but instead I became Wardeness of the North and I would gladly give up all my titles if I could have all of you back, if only just for one day. I miss when you would brush my hair and I wish you could tell me what I am doing is right, because sometimes I frighten myself.
"Robb, I wish I could tell you how proud I am of you. You were braver than any of the people in Old Nan's stories. I will finish what you started. All the people who brought about your death, I will not stop till I kill them all, I finished the Boltons, but they are far from the last. You died a king and you will be remembered as such.
"Bran, you make me wish that the gods were. I truly want to believe that you are somewhere were you are whole and happy, running and climbing again. I wish that you could have become the knight that you always wanted to be. You would have been a true knight.
"Rickon. I am sorry that you died so young. They killed the man who killed you, but that did not bring you back. I don't know whether to sad that you no longer can feel joy, or envy you that you can no longer feel pain." Sansa said no words for Arya Stark. There had been no word of her in some time and Sansa hoped that her sister still lived, as she could not bear the thought of losing her one sibling still alive after thinking her dead. Sansa felt such grief that she almost welcomed the sound of a bow being drawn. Sansa rose and turned to look behind. There were three of them, two men and a woman. The men wore light armor and the woman, who looked around Sansa's own age, was dressed in what looked like hunting cloths.
She was slightly shorter than Sansa and might have been considered pretty if she had not been so thin. Her face was thin too, almost to the point of being pinch. Her hair was brown and was partially braided, with some braided behind her head and some falling free. Her eyes were small and filled with a cruel triumph. These facts; however, were of secondary importance to Sansa. Of more interest were the swords the men held in their hands and the drawn arrow the girl was pointing at her. As their eyes met the girl gave a smile that was cruel and did not seem entirely sane.
"Evening m'lady. Having a nice visit with your family?" Her tone was sardonic and mocking. She clearly anticipated Sansa being afraid. Sansa was determined not to give the girl the satisfaction and stared calmly at her assailants.
"Who are you?" The girl snorted.
"Myranda m'lady and we are here to kill you." Sansa had expected that much, what she had not expected that they would still be talking. This was not how things were supposed to go. Trying to stall Sansa tried to keep them talking.
"May I ask why you are doing this?" This elicited a derisive snort from the girl, who appeared to be the leader of the group.
"Because I hate you. My father was kennel master of the Dreadfort. Ramsay Bolton and I were lovers. He promised that he was going to marry me. Then his father made him marry that little whore. He would have bored of her once the timid little mouse whelped a son or two and he would have come back to me. Instead you and your southern master killed him. I'm here to return the favor. You burned him, so I think it only fair to kill you in the Bolton way." As she spoke she lowered her drawn arrow till it was aimed at Sansa's leg.
"First, we'll put one in that lovely leg of yours to keep you still, then we'll set to work. I'm not as good at it as Ramsay was, but we have plenty of time." She paused and cocked her head to the side, as if in thought and then smiled.
"In fact," she said softly; "It might be better that I'm not as good it could make things more…interesting." Her smile was as cold as ice and Sansa felt fear, things were not going as they were supposed to. Then they heard it.
There was a soft growling from the trees, which drew the eyes of everyone present. Emerging from the trees was the wolf which Sansa had controlled to kill Roose Bolton. It glared at Myranda for a moment and then lunged. The girl loosed her arrow, but it flew wide.
"Harold, grab her!" She screamed at one of the men as she went for an arrow and the other man rushed at the wolf, ripping his sword from its sheath. Having neither the time nor the desire to control the wolf, as that might distract the wolf, dived to the side.
"BRIENNE! SIR MASSEY!" She cried out as she ran. Unfortunately, her foot caught on a root and she crashed to the ground. The man loomed over her, his hand reaching for her.
With a cold hissing sound Brienne's sword hissed through the air, slicing the man's hand off at the wrist. As the man clutched at his stump screaming Brienne kicked him in his shin, causing him to fall to the ground. A final thrust sent her blade through the man's throat, ending his screams.
Sir Massey emerged from the trees a moment later with several men-at-arms and charged towards Sansa's other attackers. Myranda had another arrow out and was preparing to draw it on the wolf when Massey came up behind her and struck her with the flat of his sword. The blow took her full on the back of the head and she crumpled to the ground. The resulting noise drew the attention of the third man and he turned to see what was going on. That proved to be a mistake. The wolf lunged forward and knocked the man to the ground, its teeth latching onto the man's throat. Brienne reached down and assisted Sansa to her feet, as she did so she stuttered out apologies.
"Forgive me my lady! Are you injured?"
"Where were you?!" Sansa snapped, fear and a jumble of other emotions making her snappish. "You were supposed to be within earshot and come as soon as they revealed themselves!"
"Forgive me my lady!" Brienne begged, her voice filled with remorse.
"We were closer, but Sir Massey was worried that if we were too close then we would give ourselves away." Sansa wanted to snap again, but she restrained herself and turned and turned to see how things were going with Myranda.
The girl appeared to have regained her senses, but before she could try to escape or fight two of the men seized her. She squirmed and struggled, but the men were too strong and her efforts produced no results. Sansa brushed herself off and walked over to the prisoner. The girl gave Sansa a hate-filled glare.
"Where the three of you acting alone?" Sasna asked. The girl responded by spitting on Sansa.
"Others take you, you wolf-slut!" Brienne looked ready to strike, but Sansa stopped her.
"Did you poison Sir Gerald Gower?" The girl gave a derisive snort, but Sansa thought that there was a confused look on her face for a moment.
"Were you the one who shot me?" This time Myranda gave a spiteful smirk.
"Yes, I put an arrow in you. Pity that my aim was slightly off or it would have been permanent." Sansa merely nodded.
"You were born in the North, making me your liege lord and my father said it is death for a man to bare steel to his liege lord. I suppose that what is true for men is as true for women." She drew herself up to her full height and recited the words that she had heard before and had been practicing in private.
"In the name of Stannis of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name I, Sansa of the House Stark, Lady of Winterfell and Wardeness of the North, sentence you to die." Myranda looked a little nervous, but tried to hide it behind a show of bravado.
"So, who's going to do it? The southerner or the beast?" Sansa just looked at her for a moment and then turned back to Brienne.
"Take her to the castle and lock her in the dungeon. The sentence will be carried out tomorrow." Brienne nodded and she, as well Sir Massey and the others, took the struggling girl away. They had not gone very far when they realized that Sansa was not following them.
"My lady?" Brienne asked, taking a step back toward Sansa, who waved her away."
"I shall be there in moment. I have one last thing to do." Brienne did not look happy, but she continued on with the others. Once she was alone Sansa turned back to trees and walked to the weirwood tree and placed her hand on its bark.
"Goodbye." She said quietly. Though the day had been without the slightest hint of wind the whole of the day the leaves of the trees swayed and Sansa could have sworn they were whispering her name. Shaking her head, she turned and returned to Winterfell, the wolf at her side.
Once she reached Winterfell she made her way to the crypts of Winterfell. Descending the stairs she made her way to where the newest tombs were located. She paused before the statue of her father and wished that stone could become flesh. Taking a deep breath and fighting back tears Sansa continued on. She came before the tomb for Robb, which she had ordered constructed. Before the tomb was a statue of Robb, a stone representation of Gray Wind curled at his feet and a stone crown carved on the head. Standing nearby were several men, Sansa wished that she could be alone for this, but she would need their help.
Robb's body had never been recovered and in truth Sansa did not want to know what the Freys had done with it. The result of this was that Robb's tomb, like their father's, was empty. Sansa stared at the empty space for a moment and then stooped down and placed his crown within. Once done she gestured to the men and they sealed the tomb. After dismissing them Sansa took the iron sword that they had left behind on the lap of the statue. She tried to speak, but could not. Instead she thought the words.
Be at peace Robb, lord of House Stark and the last King in the North. Sleep well brother. She turned to go and paused. Her eyes were drawn the empty space beyond his tomb, the place where her own tomb and statute would be.
Sleep well brother, I think that I will be joining you soon. With that she made her way back into the daylight.
Author's Notes: Hey everyone, I hope that you liked the chapter. I wanted to have this done sooner, but I kept coming down with the "Oh shiny" Syndrome. Will try to get the next one down without too much of a delay but I have other stories that I need to work on. Till next time please pray for my dad's cousin who has sustained a head injury and everyone else who needs prayer. Bye and may Jesus bless you.