Author's Notes: Hello, sorry that it has been so long. As always HBO and Martin own the settings.
Sansa made the journey to the Last Hearth on the back of Sir Byrivers's horse, her arms wrapped around his waist and her body press against his. Once she would have found this to be both embarrassing and thrilling being pressed against a knight as she was; as well as finding the whole affair to be cold and uncomfortable. Now; however, her mind was too occupied with other matters, among them the possibility of the world ending, to be distracted by such silly thoughts. Additionally, after all that she had been through since the fall of the Wall, what she was experiencing right now seemed neither cold nor uncomfortable. Along with Sansa her Wildling guards several people who were incapable of walking were also riding behind other knights and mounted men. Behind them came the remaining soldiers and refugees. The latter had been fortified with some of the rations that the soldiers had with them and were invigorated by both relief at having been found rescued and the knowledge that they would soon be warm and sheltered. Behind them the remains of the dead burned.
Sansa, after the excitement of the battle had bled away, found herself even more exhausted than she had been before. All that she wanted to do was lay her head against Sir Byrivers's back and go to sleep, but she could not, once she reached the Last Hearth she would have to see that those with her were taken care of and then she would have to learn what was happening and begin making plans. Sir Byrivers had not shared too much with her by way of information, but he had informed her that neither the King nor Jon had not been seen and no word of them had come from any of those who had found their way back from the Wall and what news that they had brought was contradictory.
Some said Eastwatch by the Sea had fallen as well, others said that it was still standing, but was being besieged. What was know was that the Wall had fallen, or at least been breached and all were certain that the Last Hearth was the likely the next target of the Others and their servants. While none could agree on how many there were of them, it was agreed that there were many and outnumbered the living. Fortunately, it also seemed to be agreed that the horn call which had brought down the Wall would not work elsewhere, at least it was hoped not. Sir Byrivers assure Sansa that Greatjon Umber was doing all in his power to prepare for an assault, though his efforts were hindered by the weather, which was growing steadily worse.
In the near-permanent gloom which now made up the majority of the days they at last reached the Last Hearth. At clear great effort the snow had been moved away from the walls and in the cleared patches fires burned. At first Sansa did not understand the purpose of the fires, but as she continued to look, she saw their purpose. The fires softened up the ground and once the fires were little more than smoldering ashes smallfolk came forward and began to dig, expanding the partial trench around the walls. The trench appeared to be close to five or so feet deep and four feet wide with the dirt being piled up in front of the ditch, forming an impromptu barricade that an attacker would have to surmount while under fire from the walls. Beyond the walls was a small town formed of impromptu shelters. It was clear that they were Umber smallfolk and others fleeing from what was to come.
"It seems that half of the North is here." She said, as much to herself as to Sir Byrivers.
"Aye." He agreed.
"Some of the lords stated that having all those mouths to feed, many of whom cannot fight, are a strain on our food stuffs, but it was finally decided that it is unlikely that the foe will engage in a long siege and to throw them out would only add to the enemy numbers." Sansa merely made a noncommittal sound of agreement. In truth though; she was glad. After the march from the Wall she was not sure that she could bring herself to order more people to their deaths. Sir Byrivers had sent a rider ahead to announce their coming and the sentries at the gate wave them through. Inside Sir Byrivers dismounted and then turned to aid Sansa to dismount. As she did so the Greatjon, aided by several of his kin, came out to meet her. He forwent the bow, save for a brief nod and then he unexpectedly took her into an embrace which lifted her off the ground. He then plopped her back on the ground.
"Gods, My Lady, it is good to see you again! When all hells broke loose we feared the worst, yet here you are. I swear the gods themselves must look after you!" Sansa was slightly taken by the vigor of the welcome and could not find her voice for a moment. Fortunately, the Greatjon did not seem to notice.
"Gods, you must be cold!
"Come in! Come in!" With that he motioned for her to follow him into the great hall. Before she followed she turned to Sir Byrivers.
"Sir, could see that the people who came with me are taken care of?" He gave a bow in accent.
Once she was in the great hall a servant presented her with a glass of wine, which she eagerly took. As she greedily drank it down she felt some of the pains that she had been experiencing since the Wall fell slide away even as a pleasant warmth spread through her. She wanted to have another, perhaps several, but she was interrupted by the Greatjon and a maester, the latter of whom was carrying a map. Sansa joined them at a table as the maester spread the map out and laid weights on the four corners. Once this was done the Greatjon began laying markers on the map. As he did so, he began to expound.
"We are here." He said, indicating one of the markers.
"We are the nearest castle to the Wall and are along the road south. If the Others want to go south they will have to come through us.
"To oppose them we have gathered a large, but mixed force." The maester, who until now had merely been listening, now joined the conversation.
"Our forces consist of our own men, members of the Watch who have found their way to us or were found by our patrols, though as the weather continues to deteriorate, we shall have to put an end to those and I fear that any more who do not find their way here by themselves we shall have to consider them lost. We have also been joined by members of the Gold Company and a number of Wildlings." At those last words Greatjon made a sound of disgust and Sansa was reminded of the fact that the Umbers had an even greater enmity towards the Wildings than any of the other Northern lords and it might be well to keep her guards away from him. Her thoughts were interrupted as the maester continue to speak.
"All told, we have some twenty-two knights and maybe three to four hundred soldiers. There are also a great number of smallfolk, the number which has continued to increase. We have put those to work strengthening our defenses and we have begun arming those who are fit to fight, though their quality is questionable at best.
"With regards the wider war effort…" His voice trailed off and the Greatjon began speaking again.
"We have been sending ravens back and for from the other Northern lords.
"Lady Bolton is gathering her forces at the Dreadfort. Due to Roose being the back-stabbing bastard that he was the forces of Lady Bolton and her bannermen came out with fewer loses than the rest of us from the war and so they are our best hope, sickening though that is to say." Once again, the maester interjected.
"Once the Bolton forces are gathered they will move to Winterfell. There they will join with an army from White Harbor under the Manderleys.
"Unfortunately, the defenses of the Neck cannot be neglected and the forces there must remain."
"Surely those in the South would have to be mad to invade now." Sansa objected. Greatjon gave a snort.
"Never underestimate the madness of men Lass. They might not know what is going on and like as not they wouldn't believe it even if they have heard. They may think that if nothing else they might seize the Neck by a surprise attack and then move further north once the winter ends." Having moved through the snow for days Sansa was not sure how much sense this made, but she did not want to contradict the Greatjon, who had stood high in her brother's counsel and had far more experience at war than she did. Her thoughts were interrupted by the maester clearing his throat in a way which indicated that he had something further that he wished to say.
"I must again," he said and though he was addressing the Greatjon, it was clear that he was actually speaking to Sansa; "Restate my belief that it would be more prudent to have the Boltons and the Manderlys advance only as far as Winterfell. The defenses there are far more extensive than those here, even with the efforts we are undertaking.
"Additionally, the weather continues to worsen. This will slow them down and it becomes increasingly doubtful that they will arrive before the enemy, or if they do that they will be in fit state to fight. There is also the matter of those who will be lost on such a march. Loses which will both weaken us and strengthen the enemy." Sansa shuddered at his words; knowing all to well what he meant.
"Can we hold them here?" Sansa asked. She tried, but failed, the keep the weariness and a tinge of fear out of her voice. The Greatjon gave a mightily laugh.
"Have no fear on that account, My Lady. Their little trick will not work here and we shall send those dead bastards back to their graves right quick and their masters running for home. We did it once and we can do it again." To his side the maester looked doubtful and Sansa could not blame him.
After all that she had been through she no longer believe that it would be so simple as it had been in the stories where a single hero saved the day. The parts of the stories which she did believe in were the parts which spoke of all the suffering, that she could believe in. With the King and Jon still missing and possibly dead; the thought of the latter's death making her feel as if a shard of ice was being driven through her heart, meant that she, as Wardeness of the North, was in command. The thought made her want to laugh and scream at the same time.
When she had been a child she had wanted power, but not power like this. She did not know what to do and she did not want to be responsible for all the lives which now depended on her. There was also the matter of how she would lead.
It was clear that, if she did nothing, then the Greatjon would run roughshod over her and take command of the whole war effort. At a glance that would make sense, he was an experienced warrior and would have the respect of those he led. However; it would make her appear weak and men would question her ability to lead; which was not something which she needed. If though she insisted on contradicting him merely to show that she was in charge then she would appear not as a wardeness, but as petulant child, which would undermine her authority even more. It was just one more difficult which she did not need. She paused and gathered her thoughts, trying to think of something to say which would not force the issue. After a moment a thought came to her and she sprang at it. She turned to the maester.
"Is there any chance that we can send those who cannot fight south before the Others arrive?" The man sadly shook his head.
"I fear not, My Lady.
"The King's Road is virtually impassible and it will only become worse with time. I fear that to do any such thing would only be to send them to their death." Sansa nodded, not truly surprised.
She had suspected as much, but the maester's words gave it a sense of finality. She remembered back in King's Landing when Stannis had besieged it. She remembered the feelings of terror and helplessness and the people here were now condemned to something even worse and yet, in strange way, she felt almost relieved. The decision had been taken out of her hands. There was also no question of the Greatjon sending her away, either for her safety or to undermine here. For better or for worse she would be here for the siege and whatever her people's fate was, she would share it.
Just as her father would have done. She found that thought comforting and, in truth, she would rather face down an besieging army than enduring another journey through the snow.
Author's Notes: Hello everyone, sorry that it has been so long since I last updated. I hope that this makes up for it. Will try to write sooner and longer, exciting things are in the works. Till then bye and may Jesus bless you.