A moon had passed since Jon departed Queenscrown, and Sansa felt thoroughly miserable. She longed not just for him but missed Arya and even her mother. Theon was touring the north with Ygritte, and Sigorn had gone to Castle Black to retrieve the first group of wildlings. They were expected to arrive the following day, if the raven's message from Lord Commander Mormont was to be believed. Sansa was left with Robb and Tormund.

Tormund and his quirky sense of humour provided her greatest comfort. Unlike the northern men, the wildlings didn't distinguish between men and women in matters of running a castle or sharing crude stories. To the Freefolk, it seemed more sensible to approach Sansa, believing a woman might be more capable in such matters. However, the rest of the men still approached Robb first, when permissions were required. The most scandalous stories reached Sansa's ears before Robb knew anything. Admittedly, it allowed her a freedom to learn what was really happening in Queenscrown. Knowledge which would become useful once the Freefolk took up residency.

Had Jon still been in Queenscrown, and they were approaching him, she would have understood, as he was the Lord of Queenscrown. She knew that Jon, at times, deferred to her. However, Robb was attempting to assume the mantle of Lord of Queenscrown, occasionally undermining her and Jon's vision. This situation left Sansa with the sole responsibility of navigating life south of the wall with Tormund and delving into the intricacies of investigating Littlefinger's ledgers.

Sansa wasn't entirely unfamiliar with Littlefinger's financial machinations. During her time in the Vale, she had been exposed to his grain plan. While everyone else was selling grain, he stockpiled it. Not because he wanted to hoard it, but with winter approaching, he predicted rising prices. When he eventually sold the grain, he would make larger profits by controlling the prices.

Then there were the tourneys. Sansa pondered what he was gaining from those events. Were they business deals on behalf of the crown, or were they private arrangements? Sansa only knew a few of his contacts and subordinates. How many of them had played roles in the tourneys to ensure Littlefinger made significant profits from them?

As far as Sansa could discern, King Robert had practically funded every brothel owned by Littlefinger. Her understanding of Littlefinger's financial dealings was the only reason she had been able to decipher this much. Much of the information was encoded. On the surface, it appeared legitimate, but she noticed his occasional capitalisation of letters, something she had observed him do before.

From this, Sansa deduced that, in the first ledger, Littlefinger had used one hundred and eighty-three thousand, four hundred and twenty-two gold dragons for his own purposes. And that was from financial records three years earlier. Sansa would need access to Littlefinger's personal accounts to trace the money. Records which she suspected were still in Kings Landing.

Sansa put her quill down, placed her elbows on the desk, and held her head in her hands, rubbing her temples. She was getting a headache from trying to sort out the crown's finances with only minuscule amounts of information. There was a knock at the door, and Sansa looked up.

"Who is it?"

"It is I, Maester Fell."

"Come in." Sansa called out, and the maester walked in, a scroll in his hand.

Maester Fell frowned. "Are you unwell, your grace?" he asked.

Sansa shook her head. "Headache from these numbers. I'll be alright if I have a few minutes' break." She sat back, folded her hands, and placed them in her lap. "How can I help, Maester Fell?"

The maester held out a scroll. "This came from Winterfell, your grace. I believe it is from Lord Whitestark. I thought you'd want it right away."

Sansa took the scroll from him, her heart racing. Jon hadn't written to her for a month as they'd been travelling. He must be in Winterfell or have left within the last day. "How long would it take for a raven to get here from Winterfell?" Sansa asked.

"Three days, your grace. Two, if the winds are kind." Maester Fell replied.

Sansa nodded and sighed. "And New Castle?"

"About four days." Maester Fell replied.

"I will join you shortly in the rookery, have your fastest bird readied. I want to write to his grace before he leaves for Dragonstone."

"Your grace." Maester Fell bowed his head and left the room, allowing Sansa time alone to open the letter and digest its contents.

Dearest Sansa

I am staying in Winterfell for an additional two days, as Bran is teaching me some techniques which will be useful going forward. As promised, Bran will join you in Queenscrown in two moons, to squire for Ser Barristan. He will also need your help, and you his. Bran will explain when he reaches you.

Your mother has assured me of her blessings. Repeating her desire for a grandchild. I told her we would be happy to, once the time is right. Mayhap we should practise when I return.

Tell Robb, Sam, Gilly and Tormund that I miss them.

I miss you more than words, although I have a little memento to help me during our absence. Bran will give you my gift.

Happy Name-day

I love you,

Jon

Sansa's heart swelled; he had remembered her name-day was approaching. They had spent both of their name-days apart since their marriage. Tears streamed down her cheeks, the accumulated stress of the last few days dissipating with every sob. Sometimes, letting out the emotions through tears felt comforting.

Clutching the scroll to her heart, she whispered, "Gods, Jon. I miss you. Come back to me safe." Sansa pulled a piece of parchment from her desk, dipped her quill in the ink, and put the words to paper.

Dearest Jon,

Thank you for your letter. It has made my day.

I am intrigued by what Bran has to say.

Practice makes perfect, although I think we are already close.

I have been looking through the ledgers. We need Arya to find the corresponding business ledgers. I will explain all when you return. If you have to stay a little longer, so be it. You won't be recognised, even by my former husband.

Tell Arya I miss her.

I miss you terribly. My bed is cold without you. Write to me as soon as possible.

All my love,

Sansa

The following day marked Sansa's name-day. She had entered the age of maturity, yet her body seemed to lag behind. Jon's remembered gesture brought her comfort, though the nature of the gift he could provide remained a mystery. All Sansa truly desired was Jon's safe return to Queenscrown.

As expected, the Freefolk arrived, and the group exceeded her expectations. Instead of the planned thousand, there appeared to be at least double that number. Tormund confirmed her suspicions.

"Cave Dwellers," Tormund murmured to her.

Sansa furrowed her brow. "How can you tell?"

"Look at the markings on their faces," Tormund explained, pointing out the green, blue, and purple marks. "That's how you know they're cave dwellers."

"Is that the entire group?" Sansa inquired.

"Who the fuck knows? They live in the caves in the Frostfangs, where it's warm and comfortable." He turned to her and smirked. "I'm sure you and Jon Snow know all about the comforts of a cave." Sansa looked at him, scandalized. Tormund laughed, his deep belly laugh echoing. "Thought so. Fucking outside is good, but fucking in caves is better. Did you have a hot spring to keep you warm?"

Sansa blushed bright red. "I... uh..."

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." Tormund pressed his finger to his nose. "And the rest of Queenscrown, who were all taking bets on how many times you two fucked over those two days."

Sansa wished the ground would swallow her up. She turned to face the approaching man, small and thin, with thinning long hair. It was a face she recognized as Edd Tollett. She had met him in her previous life and liked his dry fucking humour.

"Are you Lady Whitestark?" Edd asked.

"I am." Sansa smiled. "And you must be..."

"Edd Tollett, my lady," Edd replied.

"And how did you know who I was?" Sansa frowned.

Sansa approached Sigorn, navigating through the bustling crowd that had gathered in the town. The air was filled with the chatter of men, women, and children who had sought refuge, creating a vibrant backdrop to their conversation.

"Jon, I mean, Lord Whitestark," Edd began with a casual grin. "He said to find the prettiest lady, and she was the wife. He wasn't kidding. Sorry, mind me manners. Don't see many ladies where I'm from."

Sansa's lips curled into a polite smile, acknowledging Edd's rough yet good-natured attempt at courtesy. "I suppose not, Edd," she replied, her tone carrying a touch of warmth.

"Edd?" came Sam's voice from behind, prompting both Edd and Sansa to turn. Sansa's gaze met Sam's as he questioned Edd's survival at Craster's.

"How in seven hells, did Sam fucking Tarly survive Crasters when the soldiers couldn't?" Edd retorted, a mix of disbelief and curiosity etched across his face.

"That's because he's brave," Gilly interjected proudly. "Go on, Sam. Tell 'em. You fought off a whitewalker, too."

The incredulous expressions of the onlookers turned towards Sam, awaiting his response. Sam, however, blushed modestly. "I used dragonglass," he confessed, as if it were a simple matter.

Sansa felt a twinge of amusement, having heard the tale before. Instead of joining the discussion, she turned her attention to the growing crowd and scanned for familiar faces. Her eyes settled on Sigorn, and she made her way through the mud, her attire practical for the day's events. Breeches and a thick woollen coat provided comfort amid the gathering chill.

"Sigorn," Sansa called out, her eyes fixed on his balding head and unpainted face.

The man acknowledged her with a wave, skilfully navigating through the crowd until he stood before her. "Lady Whitestark," he greeted with a grin.

Sansa's expression turned from greeting to concern as she surveyed the unexpectedly large gathering. "I was only expecting a thousand, there must be twice that," she exclaimed. "We don't have enough huts or tents ready."

Sigorn shook his head dismissively, waving off her worries. "No need to worry. Us Freefolk are used to worse than this. Are there any caves nearby?" he inquired.

Suddenly, Sansa's memory flashed back to their arrival. The large halls underneath the Maester's Keep came to mind, but Maester Fell had deemed them too damp for him to use as storage, leading to their closure. However, another entrance existed through a cave close to the one she and Jon had stayed in. Sansa hoped nobody had claimed that space, for it held sentimental value as her and Jon's refuge. There were also hills further south, but she had intended to avoid them until the people had acclimated to the land.

"We've got some space under the keep. There are a few nearby caves, although there is one that belongs to myself and Jon. It is somewhere personal to us. And we want to use the cave next to it to mine dragonglass," Sansa explained, her voice carrying a mix of practicality and a hint of sentiment, even as Tormund joined their conversation. "I was telling him about the caves and the one with dragonglass."

Tormund, ever the blunt speaker, chimed in with his own colourful commentary. "Aye," he nodded, his eyes flickering mischievously. "The one next to it with the hot springs is hers and Jon's fuck-cave." Sansa couldn't help but close her eyes briefly, accustomed to Tormund's straightforward nature. She redirected the conversation, introducing Tormund to the man with the painted face.

"Stryg," Tormund addressed him, and they embraced in a familiar gesture.

"Mance thought it best we come through first," Stryg explained.

"Not surprised. You lot are the nicest. Got to give the right impression to the kneelers," Tormund remarked with a smirk, surveying the surroundings. Sansa looked around, trying to find Robb.

"Where's Robb?" she asked, a hint of concern creasing her forehead. "He said he'd be here."

"Probably with that woman of his," Tormund shrugged casually.

Sansa's surprise was apparent. "Woman?"

Tormund nodded with enthusiasm. "Aye, he's been fucking one of those, what do you call them. Merds?"

"Maids?" Sansa clarified.

Tormund nodded, his excitement undiminished. "Aye, them, mairds."

Sansa located Robb coming out of the castle, appearing quite dishevelled Determination etched on her face, she approached him with a stern expression. "You and I will speak later. This is not your castle, and you will not bed my staff. I am Lady of Queenscrown," she asserted firmly, emphasising her position. "And will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Behave yourself and stop acting like Robert Baratheon."

"Sorry, your grace," Robb whispered back, a chastened look crossing his features.

"Now help Tormund, Sam, Maester Fell, Sigorn, and I sort these people out," Sansa instructed, redirecting his attention to the task at hand.

As the night progressed, the collective efforts of the group ensured that everyone had been fed and found suitable places to sleep. Tents, new huts, the halls under the keep, and a few caves provided refuge for the diverse group that had sought shelter.

The following morning heralded the arrival of a raven bearing news from Theon. He and Ygritte were in Moles Town, accompanied by additional Freefolk who had settled there and in the surrounding areas instead of Queenscrown. Theon's message conveyed their imminent return within a couple of days, a relief to Sansa.

Maintaining a deliberate distance from Ygritte, Sansa grappled with her personal sentiments. Regardless of the present circumstances, she couldn't bring herself to like Ygritte, her unease rooted in the past and the connection with Jon. However, acknowledging the pragmatic need for cooperation, Sansa opted to focus on Ygritte's positive attributes. The wildling girl possessed a bold and outspoken nature, adept at capturing attention. Her proficiency with a bow and arrow marked her as a valuable asset.

The following morning, Sansa gathered the key people; Maester Fell, Tormund, Edd, Sam, Robb, Gilly, Sigorn and Stryg, who turned out to be one of their leaders. Queenscrown for a meeting. It was imperative to organise the growing community, dividing people into groups based on their abilities and skills. The resources in Queenscrown were limited, and the residents needed to contribute to sustain themselves. Hunting, setting up additional tents and blankets, mining the dragonglass, and harvesting apples for cider were among the tasks that required attention. Sansa, taking charge of the meeting, outlined the tasks for the well-being of the community.

"We need a hunting party to ensure a fresh supply of food, while others will have to focus on expanding shelter options. The dragonglass mining team will be tasked with extracting it so it can be made into weapons, essential for the defence against the whitewalkers. We need to harvest apples for cider." That comment brought a gleam of excitement to Tormund's eyes; he harboured a particular fondness for Queenscrown's cider. "I think it would be an idea for us each to task ourselves with helping the group where we would be of the most use. I mean, there is no point me taking anyone hunting. Instead, I lead the group who are, either the making of the tents of the bedding." Sansa looked around the room. "Does anyone have any questions?"

Robb was the first to step forward, offering his skills in construction. "My skills are on the building side. I've been doing it for the last moon," he stated, a casual shrug accompanying his admission.

Sansa turned to Ser Barristan next. "I was hoping you might help with extra training. We'll need more armed soldiers, whether male or female," she requested.

"It would be a pleasure, Lady Sansa," Ser Barristan replied with a respectful nod.

Stryg, a seasoned voice among the Freefolk, chimed in. "We have spearwives. If you need the children taught, it is best to start them early."

"I would be grateful," Sansa acknowledged with a warm smile.

Sansa turned to Edd. "Edd?" Sansa asked.

Edd, ever the pragmatist, shrugged. "I don't have any skills."

Sansa's expression shifted to a slight frown. "You can help with logging. We're going to need a lot of wood for the fires, arrows, and to build more huts."

Edd met her gaze with his typical dour look. "And here I thought this would be an improvement on the Night's Watch."

"You'll get cider," Tormund assured Edd, attempting to entice him into the logging task.

"It gives me indigestion," Edd complained in his usual deadpan manner.

Turning her attention to the broader needs of Queenscrown, Sansa sought expertise in arrow-making. "Is there anyone with experience in making arrows?" she inquired.

"The Freefolk are born with the knowledge of how to make arrows," Tormund declared with a proud grin, emphasising the resourcefulness ingrained in their culture.

Stryg, offering his skills for the mining endeavour, stepped forward. "I'll take charge of the mining. Being a cave dweller, I'm used to the caves. I've mined before. Just give us some tools, and we can get started."

"Thank you, Stryg," Sansa expressed her gratitude, standing with her hands clasped in front of her as she acknowledged his commitment.

Tormund stepped forward, offering his skills. "I'll hunt," he volunteered.

Sam, always eager to contribute, chimed in, "I can whittle."

Sansa, recognizing the importance of Sam's skills elsewhere, redirected him. "Thank you, Sam, but Maester Fell may have need of your skills. With this amount of people, I'm sure there will be more ailments and more injuries to treat."

Sigorn, taking charge of the archery team, stated confidently, "I'll be in charge of the archery making team."

"Thank you, Sigorn," Sansa responded with a smile. "I'll use my sewing skills to help with making more tents and blankets."

Gilly's potential help was suggested by Sam. "Gilly can help," he proposed.

"As long as she's not too busy," Sansa added, addressing Gilly's potential availability.

"I'm sure she'll be desperate to help," Sam nodded, expressing confidence in Gilly's willingness.

Sansa then delegated responsibilities for the kitchen. "I'll get Bertha from the kitchens to guide anyone who wants to help with the cooking," she announced. "I think it is best Tormund, Stryg, and Sigorn speak with the Freefolk before we organise the groups."

With roles assigned and tasks delegated, the meeting was adjourned, while they took charge of their respective groups to get to work on the first stage of integrating the first group of Freefolk into Westerosi society.