Disclaimer this is an alternate version of Game of Thrones season 6, with some facts more in tune with the books. Also includes House Forrester. I do not own the characters (except any original characters) this is for entertainment purposes only. Also, the story for the time being focuses on the endeavors of Jon and Sansa rallying the North to their side. I will try to incorporate other perspectives later on.
The Pink Letter
The children of Ned Stark sat and ate across from each other in utter silence. Since their argument the previous night, Jon couldn't think of anything to say to her. They had always had a difficult relationship. In Winterfell they often avoided each other since Sansa treated him with the same mistrust her mother did, and he thought she was a silly girl who sang about knights and fair maidens. But after all the horrors and betrayals they each had endured; Jon knew they had to stay together. It's what their father would have wanted, it's what he wanted as well, to be with what family he had left.
But riding into another battle with the Boltons seemed futile. He wanted justice for their brother Robb as much as she did. But he was tired, tired of all the death and pain that followed him like a dark shadow. Ygritte had died in his arms and it almost broke him. Jon knew if Sansa shared the same fate it would kill him, he had to protect her… even if it was from herself.
They were joined by Edd, Tormund, Brienne and her squire Podrick Payne. Jon noticed the look Tormund gave Brienne as he sat down, it seemed his wild friend had taken interest in the lady in plate armor. The woman was no great beauty, she towered over most men and had a warrior's bearing, perhaps this was what Tormund like about her. Edd noticed it as well, giving a slight shrug as Tormund kept staring her while he ate.
"Sorry about the food," mumbled Edd having noticed Sansa eyeing her lamb. "It's not what we're known for."
"It's alright there are far more important things," she said with a smile. She turned her gaze to Jon; he began to return the smile when the door to the courtyard creaked open and a black brother came striding in with a letter.
"A message for the Lord Commander," he said.
"I'm not the Lord Commander," replied Jon taking the letter and breaking the seal. The wax seal of house Bolton. As everyone shared a concerned look, he read the letter aloud for the others hear:
"To the traitor and bastard, Jon Snow. You allowed thousands of wildlings past the Wall, you betrayed your own kind, you betrayed the North. Winterfell is mine bastard come and see. Your brother Rickon is in my dung…" He looked to his sister and saw the look of horror on her face. Jon felt a swirl of emotions as well, shock and joy knowing that their youngest brother was alive. But also, soul devouring dread knowing he was in the clutches of Ramsay.
"Lady Dustin has made a fine gift of his direwolf's skin for my floor, come and see. I want my bride back, send her to me bastard and I will not trouble you or your wildling lovers. Keep her from me and I will ride north and slaughter every man, woman, and babe living under your protection. You will watch as I skin them living, you will watch as…" He couldn't bring himself to finish.
"Go on," insisted Sansa, eyes cold as ice.
"It's just more of the same," Jon replied hoping that would be the end of it. Before he could react, Sansa snatched the letter from him and read on.
"You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping your sister, you will watch as my hounds devour your wild little brother. Then I shall spoon your eyes from your sockets and let my dogs finish the rest. Signed, Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Witnessed by Lord Cregan Karstark, Lady Barbrey Dustin and Lord Ludd Whitehill."
"Warden of the North?" asked Jon.
"Roose Bolton is dead, Ramsay must have killed him and now he has Rickon," stated Sansa without any doubt in her voice.
"We don't know that," he argued mostly to himself.
"Yes, we do," she said adamantly.
"How many men does he have?" asked Tormund.
"When Stannis marched on Winterfell, I heard him say almost five thousand."
Horrified Jon turned to Tormund, "How many do you have?"
"That can march and fight," he pondered for a moment. "Two thousand, the rest are children and old people. We lost most of our fighters trying to break through the Wall then at Hardhome." Jon new that wouldn't be enough especially if houses Karstark, Dustin, and Whitehill bolstered the Bolton ranks with their men.
Sansa must have seen the despair on his face and said, "You're the last living son of Ned Stark, the Northern houses are loyal they will fight for you if you as ask them." Still unconvinced, she then took his hand and continued, "A monster has taken our home and our brother! We have to go back and save them."
Jon remembered Rickon watching the rest them running about the courtyard laughing all the while; he remembered the day they had given him Shaggydog, and the day he cried as they left Winterfell all those years ago. He looked to Sansa and nodded, for the safety of his family and lives of the free folk he would fight one last time.
"His own father," Podrick asked horrified.
"Lots of sick bastards out there boy," added Edd, "we met a man named Craster beyond the Wall, he raped his daughters and sacrificed his sons. Compared to that murdering your own father is almost an act of love."
"I know men can be wicked, I spent four years in Kings Landing. But this… I don't know what to say."
"Words won't be much help to us anyway," rebuffed Edd, "Castle Black was built to repel an army from north of the Wall, not from the fuckin' south. If this Ramsay marches on us, we might as well throw ourselves off the Wall and hope he's kind enough to burn all our corpses."
Jon knew Edd was right, even if they were properly manned, none of the castles along the Wall were fit to stand against an army from the south. "If we want to live to see Winter, we'll need to form a plan. Edd where's Ser Davos and Lady Melisandre?"
"The Red Woman hasn't left her room all day and last I saw Davos was by the smithy."
"Bring them here and see if you can find a decent map of the North from the library." If they were to survive, they'd need a clear view of the battlefield and sound military advise.
"An old man, a bloody witch, and a crumblin' map, we're fuckin' saved now," replied Edd as he headed out. Within the hour Edd returned with Davos and Melisandre in toe and a large map rolled up beneath his arm. As he unrolled the parchment, Edd looked to Jon and said, "Took forever to find the bloody map. Sam would have found it in an instant, all the while going on about the bastard who made it."
The thought of Sam made Jon's heart sink in remorse, he missed his friend, he missed his unfaltering loyalty and sage advice. But Sam was bound for the Citadel and was in no position to help them now. They set the markers and examined the field.
"We can't defend the North from the walker and the south from the Boltons. If we want to survive, we need to take Winterfell and to take Winterfell we need more men," Jon said exasperatedly tossing a marker onto the table. He paced anxiously at their current situation hoping for any suggestions.
Ser Davos spoke up, "Aside from the Starks and the Boltons the most powerful houses in the North are the Umbers, Karstarks, Dustins, and Manderlys. The Karstarks and Dustins have already declared for the Boltons, so we're not doing so well there."
"The Dustins gave Rickon to our enemies they can all hang. But the Karstarks declared for the Boltons, not knowing they had another choice," stated Sansa.
Ser Davos had a doubtful look when he said, "Beggin' your pardon my Lady, but they know that a Stark beheaded their father. I don't think we can count on their support either."
"How well do you know the North Ser Davos," she asked coolly.
"Precious little, my Lady."
"My father always said the northerners were different. More loyal than our southern neighbors and more suspicious of outsiders."
"They may be more loyal, but how many of them rose up against the Boltons when they betrayed your family?" Sansa seemed to ponder this for a moment. "I may not know the North, but I know men they are more or less the same in any corner of the world. Even the bravest of them don't want to see their wives and children skinned alive for a lost cause. Jon has to convince them to fight alongside him. They need to believe it's a fight they can win."
"Wouldn't bet on the Umbers either," interrupted Edd. "When the wildlings conduct raids, they always hit the Umber lands first and we let thousands of them walk right through our gates. I doubt they'll thank us for it."
"There are more than four other houses in the North," replied Jon, "Glover, Mormont, Cerwyn, Mazin, Reed, a dozen others. There are also the Mountain clans, together they equal all the others, we can start small and build."
"Mountain clans?" asked Brienne.
"Reclusive First Men who dwell in the mountains west of here. Our father used to tell us that he had never seen fiercer warriors when he traveled through the mountains, or eaten so well, for each tried to outdo the other with feasts honoring their liege lord."
"I can vouch for their fighters," chuckled Tormund, "I once lead a raiding party into those mountains and not two days in we ran into this big fucker and his men. We ended up fighting for half the day and I saw the big one cut the heads off of two men each with one swing of his axe."
"Did he have three buckets on his badge," asked Jon.
"It was many years ago Jon Snow, but I remember him hollering 'THE WULL' over and over again like a bloody madman."
"Hugo Wull, or 'The Wull' as his clan calls him. He also called 'Big Bucket Wull,' if we win him over the other clans are sure to follow."
"Are you certain," asked Brienne, "If they are anything like the hill tribes of the Vale they could be just as dangerous as the Boltons."
"Yes, they may quarrel with each other, but the clans have always answered when called upon by house Stark. We'll have to meet them face to face. The old ways of the first men are strong in the clans, we have to look them in the eye, eat and drink in their halls, and share the warmth of their hearths."
"The North remembers," added Sansa, "people remember the Stark name and will risk everything for it. From White Harbor to Ramsay's own door."
"Jon doesn't have the Stark name," noted Ser Davos.
"Jon is as much a Stark as I am." Everyone, including Jon, was surprised by the firmness in her voice. "There are also the Tullys they are not northerners, but they will back us against the Boltons without question."
"I didn't know the Tullys still had an army," said a bemused Ser Davos.
"My uncle the Blackfish has reformed it and taken back Riverrun." A smile spread across her face at the exploits of her mother's kin.
"How do you know that?" asked Jon. From what she had told him Ramsay had kept her isolated for weeks. Bereft of any contact within the castle let alone the Riverlands which lay hundreds of miles away.
She sat silently for a moment, while Brienne gave her a worried look. "Ramsay received a letter from the Twins before I escaped." Jon had to admit this was the best news he had heard in a long time, but he couldn't help but feel there was more to it than that.
"That's good," said Ser Davos his hopes rising, "The Blackfish is a legend, his support will mean a great deal." Looking over the map he continued, "Stark, Tully, a few other houses this is starting to look like a winning side." Now all that remained was deciding where to start recruiting men. Looking over the map, Jon decided that it would be best to head west for Bear Island and circle back along the Wolfswood.
Gesturing to the map Jon said, "First we need to speak with the free folk to try and convince them to fight with us or at the very least warn them about the impending attack. Then continue west to the Bay of Ice, acquire a ship and sail to Bear Island. Provided we win over Lady Mormont we'll make our way to Deepwood Motte and continue on to the mountains to meet with the clans."
"It may prove too dangerous to meet with every house face to face, especially the ones whose lands are south of Winterfell. It may prove more prudent to send ravens to Castle Cerwyn, Oldcastle, Graywater Watch, White Harbor, and Rider's Rest," replied Ser Davos.
"And while Jon and I are rallying the northern Lords, Brienne and Podrick will ride for Riverrun and convince my uncle to join us," added Sansa.
"My Lady," interjected Brienne. "I do not think it wise that I should leave your side while there are so many dangers around." As she spoke Jon noticed her eyes briefly shifted between Davos and Melisandre. If he recalled correctly, she had pledged her life to Renly Baratheon, Stannis' younger brother, who had declared himself king and an enemy of Stannis.
"By now Ramsay would have commanded everyone who has sworn fealty to him to watch out for anyone resembling Jon or myself, but he doesn't know who you or Podrick are. The two of you can go unnoticed and lead my uncle's force back to us." Brienne stood silently for a moment with concern on her face.
"If that is your command my lady, then I will see it done," she said solemnly. "If that is all, I say that we should prepare to leave at once. Podrick ready the horses." The young lad did as she bid and marched out of the hall in an eager fashion. Before she made her way to leave Brienne turned to Sansa and said, "My lady, a word in private when you have a chance." When she nodded Brienne made a slight bow to her, courteously addressed Jon and Edd as my lords, but when she turned to Davos and Melisandre, she gave them a cold ser and my lady. She didn't even look at Tormund, who was still staring at her with a slight grin, before leaving.
As everyone else made their way to leave, Jon lingered by the map fixed in thought. So, it begins, he thought to himself, our fates are to be decided at the gates of Winterfell. Father, Uncle Benjen and all the old gods watch over us.
…
"I've sworn to protect you, my Lady." Brienne had waited for the others to leave before she spoke with her again. Sansa understood that she hadn't voiced all her objections in front of the others so as to not undermine her contributions to the plan. She appreciated Brienne's restraint as well as her concern for her safety, but that did not change the fact that they needed her uncle's aid.
"You heard them, we need more men and my uncle has an army," she replied making her way to her quarters. If her uncle, a veteran of half-a-hundred battles, joined them it would improve their chances of rallying the northern families. And it would also mean being reunited with one of her last relatives on her mother's side. Would he be how mother described him, she wondered, would he see any resemblance between us?
"We could send the Blackfish a raven like the other lords," she replied desperately.
"We can't risk Ramsay intercepting it, it has to be you," she said as they made their way through her chamber, "If you ride to Riverrun my uncle will talk to you and you'll know how to talk to him. She sat down gathering her belongings, she noticed Brienne's worried look. "What is it?"
"I don't like leaving you alone with these people," Brienne replied bluntly.
"With Jon?" She knew Brienne hadn't had much time to get to know her brother, but from their limited interactions she had thought there was a mutual respect between them.
"No, not him," stated Brienne. "He seems trustworthy, a bit broody perhaps. I suppose that's understandable considering…" Jon had told them how some of the brothers of the Nightswatch murdered him for allowing the free folk to pass through the Wall. At first, Sansa couldn't believe what he was saying, but when Brienne told her she had seen the Red Woman's magic with her own eyes, she could see the horror and truth within them. When she asked Jon about it again, he refused to say anything more than what he had already said. She could hardly imagine what he must be going through. We've all suffered horrors in our own way I suppose.
"The others though," continued Brienne as she paced towards the window with her hand on her sword. "Davos and the Red Woman helped a man murder his own brother… with blood magic. And when Stannis payed for his crime where were they? Already looking out for a leader with better prospects. And that Wildling fellow with the beard—"
"Jon isn't Tormund," replied Sansa softly. "Jon isn't Davos, or the Red Woman or Stannis for that matter. Jon is Jon. He's my brother, he'll protect me." The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives, she thought to herself.
Sansa then noticed the hesitant look on Brienne's face, "Then why didn't you tell him the truth about receiving word on the Blackfish?" Sansa sat there quietly for a moment, it was a fair question, why hadn't she told the truth? Was she afraid how Jon would react about her meeting with Littlefinger; did she resent anything that involved Littlefinger and refused to recognize his part in it, or had she simply grown accustomed to lying to everyone around her?
"Because Littlefinger is a serpent, he wriggles his way into everything and poisons it from within. Jon has enough monsters and enemies to contend with as it is." It wasn't the whole truth, and she knew it, but she couldn't bring herself to say it aloud. If she admitted Littlefinger had helped her, part of her might want to turn to him for further aid and if she did she would remain his pawn. They continued their debate for some time, until Brienne finally consented and made her way to the others. After donning her new dress and cloak, she took her other project in hand and she made her way to the courtyard.
Sansa worked her way through the midst of black brothers going about their business until she reached Jon. When her brother noticed her, he smiled slightly.
"New dress?" he asked.
"Yes, I made it myself. Do you like it?" It felt rather odd talking about something so trivial as a dress, considering what they were about to undertake, especially with Jon. Like the rest of her brothers (and Arya for that matter) Jon preferred boil leather and mail to finer fabrics. Sansa imagined it was the first time in years someone, a lady for that matter, had asked him such a question.
"It's nice," Jon replied. She couldn't help but smile at his simple remark, it was honest and to the point, it reminded her of their father. "I like the wolf bit," he added after noticing the direwolf embroidery woven into it.
"That's good," she replied with excitement building in her voice. "Because I also made this for you." As she handed him the fur-line cloak, she saw his eyes linger on the direwolf imprinted in the leather strap. "I made it like the one father used to wear… as near as I could remember it." For a moment it seemed Jon was too shocked for words, but when they gazed into each-other's eyes she could see his joy and gratitude.
"Thank you, Sansa."
"You're welcome." As Jon went to say farewell to his black brother, Sansa mounted her horse and looked to their companions. There were several members she didn't know, both black brothers and free folk, but she quickly found familiar faces amidst them; Ser Davos was to her left speaking with one of the stewards about supplies, while Melisandre was to the rear keeping to herself. Sansa couldn't deny that the Red Woman made her uneasy, on account of the stories she'd heard about the red priests burning followers of the Seven to their Lord of Light. She then noticed Brienne grimacing beside her, when she asked what was wrong, Brienne mumbled something about that wildling staring at her. Sansa's eyes then fell onto their last companion, Ghost. The sight of the direwolf filled her with a sense of joy and pain that she hadn't felt in so many years.
Seeing him reminded her of Lady, her gentle companion in the months before King Robert arrived at Winterfell… and the first loss in her life after leaving home. Perhaps if I hadn't been so blind to Joffrey's nature or eager to see the south, Lady would still be here. Jon's signal to head out brought her out of her trance. She suddenly felt like it was happening all over again, here she was, riding out with a member of her family into the unknown. This time it will be different, she thought, this time I know what dangers are waiting for us, and I am no longer that naïve little girl.
…
They had been riding for two days when they saw the first sign of the Free Folk's main camp. The large tracks through the snow told Jon that the giant Wun-Wun, had been here recently. After taking back Castle Black from the mutineers, Tormund had sent him back along with the more imbittered clan members to prevent unnecessary bloodshed. This won't be easy, he thought, asking them to fight with me against the white walkers was one thing, but the Boltons were another matter entirely.
"Jon Snow," Tormund called out, pointing to the hill. That's when he saw the small group of spearmen waiting. He looked to the others and signaled the scouts and Melisandre to stay back, the free folk still mistrusted his former brothers and knew fully well of the hand Melisandre had in Mance's death.
When Jon, Tormund, Sansa, and Davos rode up to them their leader step forward. He was an old man with white hair and when he spoke it was with a strained voice. "King Crow," he said. "We knew you were coming, and that you weren't alone." The man looked over to the others his eyes lingering on Sansa. "I didn't think you crows let women join your nests on the Wall."
"This is my sister, Lady Sansa Stark," replied Jon, though his mind was on another matter. "May I ask how you knew we were coming." Ghost would have detected anyone who came too close to their camps.
"We still have a few wargs amongst us King Crow, they saw you coming through the eyes of birds and other beasts. Now will you tell us why you're here?"
"We need to speak with the elders. It's a matter that will affect all your people."
"Have the crows decided to go back on their word?" one of the younger men asked angrily.
Before Jon could reply Tormund shouted, "He said we're here to speak with the elders, boy! So, gather the elders and we'll talk." The young man gripped his spear tightly. "Careful boy, I killed the Lord of Bones for stalling a meeting, I'd gladly do the same to you." For a moment Jon thought things would spiral out of control, but the old man told the others to stand down. He sent one ahead to gather the elders and escorted Jon and his party to the camp.
As they traversed the camp Jon made sure Ghost was close in hand, to keep him from terrifying the woman and children that went about them, and to protect Sansa should any of the young men get the foolish notion of stealing her away. He had warned his sister about their practices, but she insisted she stay at his side. They neared the center of the camp when Jon saw the elders gathered around a fire. Among them Jon recognized; Barlyn, Sigorn, Karsi, even Wun-Wun was there. They didn't waste any time with pleasantries, Jon told them what they were facing and what he was going to ask them.
"We said we'd fight with you King Crow, when the time comes," Barlyn said gruffly. "And we meant it, but this isn't what we agreed to. These aren't white walkers, and this isn't an army of the undead. This isn't our fight." Jon noticed the general murmur of agreement from the others, only Karsi and Sigorn stayed silent.
"If it weren't for him none of us would be here," said Tormund looking to the others. "All of you would be meat in the Night King's army and I'd be a pile of charred bones just like Mance."
"Remember Mance's camp, it stretched all the way to the horizon," replied Barlyn solemnly. "And look at us now, at what's left of us. If we lose this we're gone, dozens of tribes, hundreds of generations. It would be like we were never there at all. We'd be the last of the free folk." Jon knew Barlyn was right, he was asking them to risk everything for a cause he couldn't promise would succeed. But that didn't change the matter before them, if they didn't fight together, they would die one by one.
"That's what will happen to you if we lose," he finally said. Everyone was now looking to him. "The Boltons; the Karstarks, the Dustins, they know you're here. They know that more than half of you are women and children. After they finish with me, they will come for you." Quick glances and silent murmurs were exchanged at this. Looking them in the eye he continued, "You're right, this isn't your fight. You shouldn't have to come to Winterfell with me, and I shouldn't be asking you. It's not the deal we made… but I need you with me if we are going to beat them, and we need to be them if you are going to survive."
"The crows killed him," added Tormund. "Because he spoke for the free folk when no other southerner would. He died for us and if were not willing to do the same for him we're cowards. If that's what we are we deserve to be the last of the free folk." Everyone pondered on this until Wun-Wun stood up. Unlike Davos and Sansa, Jon had seen giants before and even he was nervous, they were unpredictable at times and uncontrollable if one of their rages took hold of them.
Everyone's eyes were on the giant as he looked to Jon. In his guttural voice he said, "SNOW." The giant made his way to leave, with everyone stepping aside to avoid being crushed under foot.
Karsi was the next to speak as she made her way to Jon's side, "I fought with you at Hardhome; you saved my life there, and you made sure my girls and I made it through your wall. You're the only crow I've ever trusted, the Ice River clans and I will fight with you." She offered Jon her hand which he gladly took.
Sigorn, all dressed in bronze, went to his feet and said, "I'll not have it said that the Thenns stayed behind like cravens while the Ice River clans fought the southern lords." They gave each other a respectful nod. Jon turned to face the remaining elders. After a brief word with the others Barlyn walked over to him and silently shook his hand. The leaders of each tribe made their way to their respectful people, assumingly to gather what warriors they could.
When Tormund came to him, Jon asked, "You think they'll come?"
Tormund smiled and said, "We're not clever like you southerners, we say we'll do something we do it." Suddenly a young woman came running up to them.
"Riders," she screamed. "Riders are coming." Jon and Sansa went pale, had the Boltons sent out riders to raze the free folk main camp.
"Are you sure," he asked the woman.
"She's one of our wargs King Crow," replied Barlyn. "Ever since we settled here it's been her task to watch for any southern armies heading our way."
Jon turned back to the woman. "Were they carrying a sigil with them?" Jon saw the confused look on her face. "A banner," he corrected himself. She nodded saying it was red with grey chains on it. House Umber, he thought, this couldn't have happened at a worse time. House Umber was renowned for their ferocity in battle as well as their hatred for the free folk. "How many are coming?" he asked the young woman.
"I'm not sure," she replied, "a hundred maybe more." Jon looked to Davos and Sansa they shared his concerned look. Most of the free folk were either too old or too young to flee, even if they could they were all on foot, it would be impossible to outrun riders. There was only thing he could think of that might save these people. He asked the woman from which direction were the Umbers coming from. She pointed to the East and with that Jon mounted his horse and rode out with Ghost, Ser Davos and Sansa close behind.
They made it several hundred yards away before they saw the opposing force drawing near. They stood their ground-on top of a hill and waited in clear view of the Umber force. At the head of the force Jon noticed two grizzled old men, with beards white as snow. As they drew closer Jon saw that the one on the left wore a bear skin, its head serving as a hood and that a white stained patch covered his left eye. The Umber army slowed to a halt as their leaders rode up the hill to meet with them.
For a moment the two old men stood silently as they looked at and the others. It was the man on the right who spoke first, his eyes lingering on Sansa. "Lady Stark, it is good to see you in these strange times." She replied most courteously portraying no sign of worry. His eyes then went to Jon and his direwolf. "I take it your Jon Snow, the Lord Commander of the Nightswatch."
"I am, lord Hothar," replied Jon. "But I'm no longer the Lord Commander."
"We received a raven not long ago bearing the mark of house Stark, asking for our support in the coming battle with the Boltons," stated Mors Umber. "But what I would like to know is why the wildlings down there were allowed to pass through the Wall without a fight?"
Perhaps Edd was right, helping the free folk may have cost his family the support of one of the oldest houses in the North. "The leaders of the free folk and I came to an understanding, they were allowed to pass through the Wall and settle the lands of the Gift, if they pledged to fight with us when the true enemy comes."
"The Boltons?" asked Hothar. He had nearly forgotten that to most of the houses south of the Wall, the news of the others' return was little more than a bedtime story.
"No, the true enemy north of the Wall, the one that brings the long night." The Umber brothers didn't express any emotion at the remark, they just continued to stand there.
"Part of the reason we rode from Last Hearth was to learn the intentions of that horde of raiders," Hothar said briskly. "Afterwards we intended to ride for Castle Black and meet with the two of you."
"With what intentions my lords?" asked Sansa. Jon then noticed a look in Mors' only eye, there was anger in it but there was something else too... shame.
"My Lady, we have come here to make amends for our failure," he said. When they asked them what failure they were referring to both brothers lowered their gaze. "Your brother Rickon, he was under our protection for the last three years. We hoped to keep him hidden until he was old enough to lead an army to take back Winterfell. But not long-ago Lady," he spat the word, "Barbrey Dustin came to Last Hearth, claiming that she wanted to forge an alliance with our house against the Boltons. She said that since Roose Bolton became the Warden of the North, he and his bastard had been causing trouble on the borders of her land and like fools we believed her. Having hidden away Rickon, his protector, and his direwolf Shaggydog, we offered her and her host guest right welcoming them into our hall."
Lord Hothar continued, "The very next day, your brother and his protector Osha were gone. And when we checked the kennels, we found his direwolf butchered. When we confronted Lady Dustin, she smiled and said how could she have abducted someone who she believed was dead. Mark my word she knew, somehow that faithless whore knew! Mors wanted to gut her right there, but we had no prove that she violated guest right. We had no right to hold her against her will."
"Guest right didn't protect my brother Robb or my mother at the Red Wedding," remarked Sansa angrily. Part of Jon understood why she was angry, they had let Rickon be taken from under their noses, yet guest right was a sacred tradition deeply revered by the Umbers. Without proof they would have dishonored themselves had they taken action against her. They would have been no better than those who partook in the Red Wedding.
"We sent our best scouts and hunters to find whatever catspaw scum she hired but they couldn't find any sign or whisper of them," replied Mors. "That's why we are here my Lady. We've come to pledge ourselves to you and your house in payment for our failure."
Neither Jon nor Sansa could express how much these words meant to them.
"House Stark is honored by the loyalty and support of house Umber," replied Sansa. As Mors and Hothar dismounted and kneeled before them with swords in hand, Jon eyes shifted to the forefront of the Umber lines: Green boys, born in the midst of the last summer, and old men as white as the many winters they had seen. He had heard that the Umbers had suffered great losses during the Red Wedding, including: the capture of the Greatjon and the death of his son and heir, Smalljon.
Mors must have seen his weary gaze, for he bellowed, "I know they don't look much Lord Snow, but the younger lads have the strength to butcher a bear while the grey one's have the experience to do so. They'll make short work of Karhold, mark my words!" Karhold, he thought, they had not intended to march against any of the keeps that had declared for house Bolton, considering the time and number of lives it would take, neither of which they had.
"My Lords, from my understanding, the bulk of the Karstark forces are already gathering at Winterfell, laying siege to Karhold may prove more costly than the reward. If we did so and another storm came, we would be caught in the open and cut off from any supply lines from Last Hearth. And should Ramsay send a vanguard outfitted to traverse the snow, they would be the hammer to Karhold's anvil."
"I see your time as a brother of the Nightswatch has taught you a thing or two about strategy," chuckled Mors. "Tis true, Karhold itself isn't worth much and having our entire force gathered in one place would make too tempting a target for the bastard of Bolton to ignore, but there is a need for it as well. Alys Karstark." Jon remembered her vaguely; a kind and intelligent girl who came to Winterfell with her father for a gathering many years ago. She had danced with Robb, at her father's encouragement, and with him as well before the evening was over. Years later two of her brothers, Eddard and Torrhen, had died fighting for Robb and the third had been captured. Then it dawned on him, the name of her last living brother was Harrion not Cregan.
"In the absence of her brother Harrion, Alys Karstark is the rightful heir to Karhold and all its intended lands," said Jon, exchanging looks between Mors and Hothar. "She's a prisoner in her own home, isn't she?"
"Aye, her great-uncle Arnolf Karstark has taken her prisoner in all but name, and he intends to marry her to his oldest son Cregan to take control of all her lands," replied Mors. Now looking to Sansa, he said, "He would have already done so if Roose Bolton hadn't summon them after your escape my lady." The look in Sansa's eyes told Jon she understood the ordeal Alys Karstark was facing: a prisoner in her own home, her true family either dead or far away, and forced to marry someone against her will.
"If we take Karhold, rescue Lady Alys and she declares for the Stark cause it will undermine Cregan's authority over the Karstark men," added Hothar. "Even more so, if we capture Arnolf and the rest of his sons and grandsons." The reasoning was sound, most of the soldiers were common men fighting at their acting lord's command. If the rightful heir spoke against the Boltons many would desert their ranks. "And should the coming battle turn against us we'll have two castles to fall back to," concluded Hothar. It was a compelling plan, not only would it weaken the Bolton army, but it would also prevent any infighting between the free folk and the Umbers.
It was decided then that the Umbers would lay siege to Karhold: allowing them to muster their main force where the Last River met with the mountains, while leaving no enemy to their rear as they march on Winterfell. As the Umber brothers took their leave, Jon looked to Sansa and Davos, their faces expressed the same relief he felt. Perhaps we can win this battle after all, he thought.
…
In the passing week, they had ridden to the coast of the Bay of Ice, procured a suitable vessel and began their journey to Bear Island. Despite the ever-present shifting ice, the captain of the vessel (with Davos' aid) made great headway in reaching the lonely isle in the frozen North. When their vessel was no longer in danger, Davos decided to divide his newfound freedom to better acquaint himself with Jon Snow and his sister. Stannis' instincts about the boy were right; he was a capable lad, driven to do what was right no matter the cost. A trait his king had been lacking in the last few years, the Red Woman's influence no doubt. Lady Sansa, though weary at first, proved to be more courteous than most high-born ladies he had met, and if he wasn't mistaken, she had a good head on her shoulders. She would have needed one to survive King's landing and the Red Keep, he thought. Davos had always found it amusing, in a grim fashion at least, the closer a person was to the Red Keep and the royal court the more danger they were in.
Despite the dangers of Flea Bottom, he thought it better to face the drawn daggers of cut-throats and thieves, then to take one's chances with the hidden vipers within the castle. He looked to the crashing waves to the starboard side and started to muse over his past. The thought of Flea bottom made Davos think back to his days as a smuggler. A man trying to earn a livelihood for his family. His family, he thought. His oldest son Mathos had died in the Battle of the Blackwater, while his youngest son Devan was still at Rainwood with his mother, Marya. His beloved Marya. He hadn't seen her or their last living son since he had answered Stannis' summons. Five years, his son would almost be a man grown by now.
"Ser Davos," cried the captain. Drawn back into reality he made his way down the ship's galley. When he met the man, he pointed to growing mass of rock and said, "Bear Island, dead ahead. Bes' tell the others we'll make land fall before midday." Davos thanked the man and did as he suggested. They had agreed it would be best to be prepared when meeting the Lady of Bear Island. From the letter she sent in response to Stannis, told him that, despite her age, she was not easily swayed.
This time however, it wasn't a southern king demanding her support, it was the son and daughter of lord Eddard Stark. He had never had the honor of meeting lord Stark, but he had heard a great many things about the man. Davos had spoken with some of the common northmen and even now his name was held in high regard.
As they approached the island, the captain raised a local banner to show the islanders that it was a trading ship coming to shore. If the raven from Castle Black had reached Lady Mormont, they would be expecting them. As the ship anchored and the crew began unloading supplies, Jon and Sansa made their way down the dock with Davos close behind. At the end of the dock, they spotted two armed men waiting.
As they drew closer, Davos noticed that one was rather old, his face scarred with by claw marks (a bear's most likely). Clearly this was an experienced warrior, having survived many battles with men and beasts. The other one, to his surprise wasn't a man at all, but a young woman with her hair cut short. When he asked Jon about this, he replied that the women of Bear Island had learned long ago to defend themselves against Ironborn and Wildling invaders while their husbands were gone.
When they met them, it was the old man who spoke. "My Lords and Lady," he said with a gravelly voice. "Lady Mormont awaits your arrival at the great hall."
"We are grateful for Lady Mormont's willingness to meet with us," replied Sansa. "House Mormont has always been a trusted ally to our family." The woman looked at them for a moment.
"Who would we be to deny hospitality to Lady Bolton," she replied before turning away leading them to the great hall. The look Davos saw on Sansa's face expressed all their concerns; it wasn't going be easy to convince these people to fight for them. Their guides lead them through the town, where many onlookers stared at them and murmured. One old man looked to them and cried out STARK. As feeble as his voice was it rallied others to join him, although not everyone cried out the Stark name it lifted their spirits knowing some still supported them.
As they travelled uphill towards the hall, Davos took notice of their surroundings; a vast forest spread beyond his sight, and to the west a small waterfall emptied into a clear pool of water. He could understand why the northerners loved their lands so dearly, there was a remote beauty about them. With such beauty before him, a man could almost be forgiven for forgetting his purpose for being there.
When they entered the great hall, Davos saw that the fort was mixed between stone and timber. Not as grand or formidable as the keeps he had seen in the Stormlands, but it seemed suitable for Bear Island. The guards immediately lead them to their lady in the mead hall. Davos had known the new Lady of Bear Island was young but seeing her for himself was something else. One or two years younger than Shireen, he thought, yet here she is leading a household in a time of uncertainty. At her side were the master-of-arms and the maester, both looked about his age. Undoubtedly, they had been advising the household for years.
When they approached it was Jon who addressed the young lady. "Lady Mormont," he said, bowing his head. Lady Mormont expression portrayed no emotion, eyes staring intently.
"Welcome to Bear Island," she replied, her tone matching her expression. She waited for them to speak, a practice the highborn lords used to get a measure of their guests, to see if they could find any sign of betrayal. It was Sansa who spoke first, attempting the courteous approach.
"I remember the day you were born, my Lady. You were named for my aunt Lyanna. It was said she was a great beauty, I'm sure you will be too."
"I doubt it," scoffed the girl of ten. "My mother wasn't a great beauty or any other kind of beauty, but she was a great warrior. She died fighting for your brother Robb." It was clear to Davos this girl would not be swayed by compliments of beauty or grace. With a slight glance from Sansa, Jon took up the mantle.
Stepping forward he said, "I served under your uncle at Castle Black, Lady Lyanna, he also was a great warrior and an honorable man. I was his steward, in fact I—"
"I think we've had enough small talk," interrupted lady Lyanna. "Why are you here?" An honest question and to the point, very much like the northern culture, thought Davos.
Composing himself, Jon did as she asked. "Stannis Baratheon garrisoned at Castle Black before he marched on Winterfell. He showed me the letter you wrote to him when he petitioned for men. It said—"
"I know what it said, it said 'Bear Island knows no king, but the King in the North whose name is Stark."
Davos noticed the solemnity in Jon's voice when he said, "Robb is gone… but house Stark is not, and it needs your support now more than ever. I have come with my sister to ask house Mormont for its allegiance." Lady Lyanna considered his words before consulting with her maester. Davos watched the discussion intently as Jon and Sansa exchanged looks between them.
When they finished, she looked back to them and said, "As far as I understand you're a Snow and Lady Sansa is a Bolton. Or is she a Lannister, I've heard conflicting reports?"
At this Sansa's tone changed from courteous to adamant, "I did what I had to do to survive my lady. But I'm a Stark, I will always be a Stark."
"If you say so," she remarked, at which Sansa bristled. Turning to Jon she continued, "In any case you don't just want my allegiance you want my fighting men!"
"Ramsay Bolton cannot be allowed to keep Winterfell, my Lady. It is our duty to stop him, even more so because he holds our brother Rickon Stark his prisoner. What you have to understand my lady, is that—"
"I understand that I am responsible for Bear Island and all who live here," roared the little bear. "So why should I sacrifice one more Mormont life for someone else's war." Davos had remained silent so far, fearing his southern presence might alienate some of the northmen from the Stark cause. But it seemed house Mormont was close to refusing them, he had little choice. He gathered his wits and approached.
"If it please, my lady. I know how you feel." All their eyes were suddenly on him. He had entered the field there was no retreat.
The little bear looked at him suspiciously and said, "I don't know you, Ser?"
"Davos of house Seaworth, my Lady." As she moved to consult with her maester again he continued, "You needn't ask your maester about my house it's rather… new." She shifted back into her seat looking at him with new interest.
"Alright, Ser Davos of house Seaworth how is it you understand how I feel?"
In a calm voice he replied, "You never expected to find yourself in your position. Being responsible for so many lives at such a young age. I never thought I would be in my position; I was a crabber's son, then I was a smuggler, now I find myself addressing the lady of a great house during a time of war. But I'm here because this isn't someone else's war, it's our war."
In a much gentler tone Lady Lyanna beyed him to continue. "Your uncle, Lord Commander Mormont made that man his steward. He chose Jon to be his successor because he knew he had the courage to do what is right, even if it meant giving his life. Because Jeor Mormont and Jon Snow both understood that the real war isn't between a few squabbling houses. It's between the living and the dead. And make no mistake my lady… the dead are coming."
"Is this true?" she asked, a hint of concern gleaming in her eyes as she addressed Jon.
With a slight nod, he answered, "Your Uncle fought them at the Fist of the First Men, I fought them at Hardhome. We both lost." Davos saw that this was the moment to make their argument and perhaps win Lady Mormont over.
"So long as the Boltons hold Winterfell the North is divided, and a divided North won't stand a chance against the Night King. You want to protect your people I understand that, but there's no hiding from this. We have to fight, and we need to do it together." The maester's chain rattled as he leaned over to Lady Mormont but stopped when she raised her hand.
In a placid tone she said, "House Mormont has kept faith with house Stark for a thousand years." Now looking directly at Jon and Sansa she said, "We will not break faith today." A sigh of relief could be heard from the two of them.
"Thank you, my lady," replied Jon stepping forward. "How many fighting men can we expect?" This time she consulted with the master-of-arms.
When they finished, she said with great pride, "Sixty-two."
"Sixty-two?" asked Jon, making sure he had heard properly. It was far from what they were hoping for.
With fire and pride blazing in her eyes once more, Lady Lyanna stated, "We're not a large house, we're a proud one. And every man from Bear Island fights with the strength of ten main-landers!" Davos could hardly keep himself from smiling at the girl's tenacity and conviction. She reminded him of Shireen in that regard.
"If they're half as ferocious as their lady the Boltons are doomed," he said inclining his head. Lady Lyanna returned a courteous nod.
And that is chapter one. Please let me know what you think by reviewing, but please be courteous because constructive criticism can only benefit story, while excessively hostile reviews only devalues a readers stance, which is really just a shame.