Warg Maiden
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Chapter 36: The Red She Wolf
Imogen's POV
I was putting a lot of energy into connecting with Boudica and Fenrir. As Fenrir warged into Frigg while I joined Boudica. All of us were in Lunar Haven, and I gave them an report on what had transpired. The news of what the Crows did to Jon, the Red Woman resurrecting him, and the execution of Alliser Thorne and those involved.
"Thorne is dead," Fenrir asked to be sure.
I nodded, "He will no longer be bothering us."
Fenrir sighed, "I truly wanted to kill him myself."
"As did I," I agreed.
Boudica nodded, though her expression became severe. "You said Jon Snow is no longer Lord Commander."
I nodded.
"Who is?" She asked.
"Jon transferred authority to Eddison Tolett," I answered. "He goes by Edd, been in the Night's Watch as a steward since he was fifteen."
"And his thoughts about us?" Boudica continued.
"After seeing the Others and wights, he is with us," I assured.
"And Jon?" Fenrir asked. "Is he still with us?"
I frowned, "I do not know."
Both my parents frowned when hearing this.
I faced my mother, "The Raven and the Children never discuss resurrection. Are there ways to revive someone from death?"
"I have seen people being revived from drowning or near death from the cold," Boudica explained. "But never have I seen someone being revived from the dead that isn't a wight. Especially when he died on the south side of the Wall. As you said, Jon had been dead for a day before the Red Woman got involved."
"What do you know of this religion?" Fenrir asked.
"I don't know," I confessed. "Only that the god is called the Lord of Light, burning those who disagree, and blood magic."
"Blood magic?" Boudica seethed. "The Red Woman used blood magic."
I nodded.
She cursed in the old tongue. "Blood magic is the use of blood and sacrifices. It is considered the darkest form of magic. My mother told me tales of the maegi, who used it for power. A story about a man who tried to create a powerful sword, only to slaughter his wife to do so with such magic. Along with another realm of people controlling firelizards."
"The Valyrians," I corrected.
Boudica nodded.
"What happens to those used in blood magic?" I asked.
"I do not know, but a price has been paid. A sacrifice," Boudica answered. "You say Jon seems fine?"
I nodded.
"Keep an eye on him," she advised. "Any part of him might have been killed."
"Like his motivation to be Lord Commander?" Fenrir suggested.
"Maybe," Boudica replied.
I sighed.
"We still need Jon," Boudica said. "He knows the South being one of them."
I could only nod.
Boudica came over, wrapping a hand around my neck to lower me enough to kiss my forehead, and then pressed hers against mine.
"I will see you soon, my pup," She murmured.
I nodded, "Soon."
She pulled back as Fenrir did the same.
"The Lone wolf dies," he murmured.
"But the pack survives," I replied.
I disconnected, taking us back to the Nightfort with nothing else to say. Exhaustion had taken over as I stared at my parents through Frigg's eyes. Boudica gently petted the top of my head.
"Get some rest," Boudica advised. "For winter is coming."
I nodded, glancing at my parents before returning to my body. When I opened my eyes, I stared at Tormund, who was setting up a bedroll by the fireplace. Tormund decided to stay close to me. As Jon made it clear, there were others who stabbed him, but his memory wasn't that good at the moment. Tormund decided to stay close.
Then again, we all have dealt with pain from Castle Black. Despite Edd being the new Lord Commander and several crows that he trusts…There are those who want us Wildlings gone. It brought up a question I needed to ask Jon. He made me his ward…. Now that he is no longer Lord Commander, does that mean I'm free, or is Edd now in charge of me? There are so many questions. Especially Melisandre, who uses blood magic to revive Jon. She says it wasn't. Even then, she used some sort of Dark Magic.
Tormund noticed my silence and looked at me, "What did they say?"
"Glad that Ser Alliser is dead and to keep an eye on Jon," I reported.
Tormund nodded, "You don't think he is some kind of wight."
I shook my head, remembering Jon's expression when he took a breath—the shock and pain instead of a numb expression. Let alone his eyes. I always assumed his eyes were brown because of how dark they looked. Instead, they were gray, so dark that they seemed black like iron. I shook the thought away, focusing on the situation at hand.
"His eyes are not blue like a white walker," I assured.
Tormund sighed as he sat there.
"Can't call him Little Crow anymore," he teased.
I scoffed, "No, you can't."
Tormund yawned, "Once we know for sure, we will go to the Nightfort. I haven't seen my daughters in a long time."
"Are you sure they have not been stolen?" I asked.
Tormund gave a mighty laugh, "As if anyone would dare steal my daughters before the Red Wanderer is within the Moonmaiden. I taught them how to fight."
"That you did," I confirmed, remembering one of his daughters beating up a man who tried to steal her while she was intoxicated.
"And how many men try to steal you?" he asked.
"Too many to count," I answered.
Tormund laughed at that.
I smiled a little to hear Tormund laugh. "Let's get some rest."
Tormund nodded as he lay on his bedroll. I lay on the bed, getting under the blankets. It wasn't long as sleep claimed Tormund. I closed my eyes, trying to sleep.
Until a loud snore consumed the room.
Fuck.
.o0o.
Jon's POV
Jon stared at the armor that once belonged to his uncle Benjen. It was steel plate armor with leather reinforcement. The plates were riveted to the leather surface in contrasting colors. Firm leather belts with buckles accompanied the armor. He put it over his gambeson. This time, he would wear armor all the time.
He didn't have a plan.
Right now, he needed to get out of here to clear his head. Everything he had planned was rooted in the Night's Watch. Has been since he was a boy. But now, he can't stand to be here any longer. He needed to get out. He needed to think.
Maybe he might come back to help in the Great War.
But now…. he wasn't sure.
All the deaths he has encountered.
The lives he took.
The memory of Olly hanging there with his dead eyes staring at him,
Jon shook his head to get rid of that memory.
He needed to finish packing.
Edd had come in with his things. Jon nodded to him as Edd set his things on a chair and walked around. He made his way over to the table, picking Longclaw. He came over to Jon, caressing the sheeted blade.
"Where are you gonna go?" Edd asked.
"South," Jon answered, putting a keepsake in the satchel.
Edd looked out the window, "What are you gonna do?"
Jon looked at his friend with a smile, "Get warm."
Edd glared at him
Bad joke, Jon thought.
Edd set Longclaw on the desk, fists on the table, seething, "I was with you at Hardhome. We saw what's out there. We know it's coming here. How can you leave us now?"
Jon kept his composure as he stared at Edd, "I did everything I could. You know that."
"You swore a vow," Edd nearly bellowed.
"Aye, I pledge my lie to the Night's Watch," Jon agreed, getting into Edd's space. "I gave my life."
"For all nights to come," Edd reminded.
"They killed me, Edd! My own brothers." Jon snapped. "You want me to stay here after that?"
Edd was about to say something when the horn blew. Both men looked out the window, wondering who it was now.
"Riders approaching!"
"Open the gate!"
Usually, the Night's Watch would turn people away. Unless it was a merchant, they made the trade with, a man seeking to join the Night's Watch, or a noble who seeks temporary aid. Jon thought of Lord Overton, wondering if the man had returned with news or escaped from the Boltons. Or could the Wildling Council rushed to get here after hearing the news?
Jon wasn't sure as he and Edd made their way out to the courtyard. Three riders came in as the brothers came in to take their horses. By the looks of it, a man, a tall woman in armor, and a young woman with red hair. Not a vibrant red like Melisandre, but auburn. When the woman turned around, Jon was shocked as if seeing a familiar face. For a second, the face of the woman who despised him. Except her features were smoother, yet her blue eyes held pain.
The last time Jon saw this woman, she was a mere girl who dreamt of marrying a prince.
Now Sansa Stark stood there.
Sansa stood where she was, recognizing Jon, yet did not move. Jon made his way down as he thought about their childhood. How Sansa barely tolerated him. Avoided him to please her mother, Lady Catelyn Stark. However, all that has happened in the last three years unraveled.
He made his way five feet from her. Being sure that this was his half-sister. The last he heard, Sansa had gone missing. Then again, she was held hostage by the Lannisters after the arrest of their Father. Lord Eddard Stark. The rumors of the physical abuse she went through at the hands of King Joffrey. Let alone forcing the girl to marry Tyrion Lannister. When word came of the Purple Wedding, Tyrion was accused of poisoning the King…Sansa vanished. No information, as there was a warrant for her arrest worth a hundred gold dragons. As the crown assumed, she conspired to kill the King, having a means.
Jon paused, unsure if she was real. Until Sansa gave a sob, spreading her arms wide. Jon swooped in, hugging his half-sister. Despite their childhood differences, all that mattered was that Sansa was alive and here.
He went through the list in his head.
His Father, Ned, was dead.
Uncle Benjin is somewhere Beyond-the-Wall, but most likely dead.
Robb was dead.
Bran was somewhere Beyond-the-Wall, either dead or alive.
Rickon was somewhere in the North, either dead or alive.
Arya was missing.
And Sansa…Sansa was alive and in his arms.
There was so much to discuss. So many questions that needed to be answered.
Edd made his way over as if he knew who she was, "She can stay in the royal chambers."
Jon set Sansa down and nodded, appreciating it.
"Jon, this is Lady Brienne of Tarth and her squire Podrick," Sansa introduced, gesturing to her companions. "They saved me after escaping the Boltons."
"You were with the Boltons?" Jon asked in disbelief.
Sansa nodded, though her expression was bitter.
Jon knew they would need to talk, but first, he needed to give his thanks. He turned to Lady Brienne and Podrick and said, "I owe you my thanks for bringing my sister here."
"It's the least we can do," Lady Brienne said. "I swore to Lady Catelyn that I will keep her daughters safe."
Jon nodded.
Edd came over, "You all should rest. We got some private rooms to spare."
Lady Brienne nodded, though they looked at Sansa.
Sansa nodded, "Rest, I'll be with Jon."
Lady Brienne glanced at Jon before nodding as she and Podrick were escorted to their rooms. Jon noted Tormund staring at the tall woman in awe, followed by Imogen, who stood in the battlement watching this. He wasn't sure what Imogen was thinking, noting she had charcoal smeared around her eyes.
Sansa followed his stare and nearly gasped at seeing the Wildlings.
Imogen sighed as she left, heading to the stables to check on the wolves. Jon sighed, knowing he had some explaining to do. A possible misunderstanding. Yet he knew Sansa needed to be tended to. Therefore, he wrapped his arm around Sansa's shoulder, leading her to the royal chambers.
Once there, Jon had Sansa sit down while he went to the fireplace to start a fire. There were so many questions. He wanted to know what happened. How did she get up here, and most of all, why was she with the Boltons.
After getting the fire set, he grabbed a stool and sat beside her. They sat there in silence. Then again, how can you speak to your half-sibling with whom you hardly had a relationship. Sansa was not Arya or Rob, Bran and Rickon. She was a mommy-girl who looked up to her mother and tried to please her to the best of her ability. So, when Sansa knew her mother despised Jon, she distanced herself.
Now, here they were.
"Sansa…" Jon started but stopped.
Sansa sighed, "Well, this is awkward."
Jon nodded in agreement.
Silence again.
Jon, needing answers, finally spoke, "What happened?"
Sansa inhaled sharply and heaved a sigh as she told him what happened. She told him she was a fool to believe in the Lannisters. Being stupid to fall in love with the idea of love with Joffrey. How the Lannister formed a coup that killed all the Northerner Valets, including Septa Mordane. When Jon asked about Arya, Sansa explained that she had seen Arya angry with her and excited about her dancing lessons that morning. Afterwards, Arya somehow escaped. The Lannisters looked everywhere but couldn't find Arya.
Jon sighed, hoping their younger sister was safe.
Sansa continued to explain that she was held hostage yet was treated as a lady in court. Yet anytime word came of Robb winning a battle, Joffrey would have his Kingsguard beat her. When the Tyrells arrived, she felt a moment of freedom when Lady Margaery took her place, along with the prospect of marrying Ser Loras. However, the Lannisters forced her to marry Tyrion Lannister. Before Jon could ask, Sansa explained Tyrion had never touched her sexually. They spent time together as expected, but on the other hand, comfort in holding hands; nothing else happened. Even Lord Tyrion was sleeping on the lounge to ease the girl's mind.
It was hard, especially when the Red Wedding came around. Yet, Sansa was comforted by her handmaiden, Shae, along with Lord Tyrion. However, she truly felt alone as the Tyrells focused more on the wedding. However, the Tyrells and Tyrion kept Joffrey away from her to the best of their ability. Followed by a knight she saved named Ser Dontos Hollard, who gave her a necklace.
When it was time for the Royal wedding, Sansa merely attended and watched. Despite Joffrey's remarks and Lady Olenna's comfort, she did not want to be there. She wanted to be anywhere but there. There was a performance of the Battle of the Five Kings, performed by dwarves, a ghastly show, as she watched a degrading interpretation of the King's deaths or humiliating defeat. Robb was one of them.
Joffrey jested, trying to rile Tyrion, but he refused to partake. Joffrey did not like that, as he ordered Tyrion to be the cupbearer. Something happened, as Sansa thought Joffrey was choking about the pie. As she said, it is an utter shock to see Joffrey choking to death. Before she could watch his end, Ser Dontos grabbed Sansa, making their escape.
By evening, she was on a ship with Little Finger, who helped in her escape. Jon noticed there was something else that Sansa omitted but didn't pry it from her.
Lord Baelish helped her escape as they journeyed to the Vale, where she was reunited with Aunt Lysa. Lord Baelish married Aunt Lysa, and the two intended Sansa to marry her cousin Robyn once he came of age, uniting the North and the Vale once more. Except Lysa was sick in the mind, filled with jealousy, accusing Sansa of being intimate with Lord Baelish. Despite everything Sansa said, the woman didn't believe her.
Jon was shocked to hear that Lady Lysa almost tossed Sansa through the moondoor if Lord Baelish hadn't stepped in. Once more, Sansa omits the details.
After a few months, Lord Baelish made a marriage contract with the Boltons. She didn't want to do it. However, Lord Baelish convinced her, saying the Boltons would protect her. Yet the Boltons killed her family. She only complied because she had no other choice. Forced to marry Ramsay Bolton. A sadistic man who raped and tortured her every night.
Rage filled Jon, yet he remained silent.
What shocked him the most was that Theon was alive.
That only made Jon angrier.
Until Sansa explained that Ramsay had castrated Theon, tortured him to the point he lost his sanity, and became a slave known as Reek. As the betrayal grew worse, Theon ruined her one chance to escape, and Ramsay skinned the poor woman alive. When Lord Stannis arrived, Sansa took the opportunity to escape. Theon, snapping out of his trance, helped her as they escaped, nearly breaking their legs, and ran into the wolfswoods.
They were captured, but fortunately, Lady Brienne and Podrick arrived just in time. Theon didn't join them, though, as he went to join his sister. Meanwhile, Lady Brienne is sworn to protect Sansa under Lady Catelyn's command.
Jon took the information in.
After some time, he told Sansa what had happened to him. From Castle Black to the wights, wildlings, nearly everything. However, he omitted some details. Personal details. Primarily his romantic affair with Ygritte and how he was killed. As Sansa took it, someone revived him naturally and not through magic.
Food and ale were brought in, and Jon thanked the steward. He brought it over, giving Sansa a bowl of soup while he grabbed a tankard of ale. He watched as Sansa brought the bowl to her lips, taking a sip. Curious about how she was going to react to the food.
She gave a hum, "This is good soup."
Jon only nodded.
"Do you remember those kidney pies Old Nan used to make?" Sansa asked.
"With the peas and onions?" Jon recalled.
"Mmm," Sansa hummed at the memory.
They stared at the fire, lost in thought of a once peaceful childhood.
"We never should have left Winterfell," Jon said.
"Don't you wish we could go back to the day we left?" Sansa asked. "I want to scream at myself, 'Don't go, you idiot.'"
"How could we know?" Jon replied.
"I spent a lot of time thinking what an ass I was to you," Sansa announced.
This caught Jon off guard, not expecting that. Sure, Sansa was a brat back then. But he wouldn't dare say it.
"I wish I could change everything," Sansa continued.
"We were children," he tried to reassure her.
"I was awful, just admit it," she stated as a matter of fact.
Jon chuckled at that, "You were occasionally awful. I'm sure I can't have been great fun. Always sulking in the corner while the rest of you played."
"Can you forgive me?" She asked playfully, almost like a true sister.
"There's nothing to forgive," he assured.
"Forgive me," She demanded playfully.
"All right," he chuckled, smiling after a long time. "I'll forgive you."
Sansa laughed, smiling as well. Jon wondered when the last time she smiled and laughed. It felt so surreal.
Suddenly, Sansa reached out for his ale. Jon gave her a questionable look. She glances at the tanker and then at him. Jon thought he shouldn't because she was a lady, mainly because of the taste. He was used to it, having two years of drinking the concoction. Yet sometimes, people have to learn it the hard way. So, he gave her the tanker. Sansa did not hesitate as she took a gulp, then gagged, coughing into her wrist. Jon couldn't help but laugh.
Immediately, Sansa gave the tanker back.
"You think after thousands of years, the Night's Watch would have learned how to make a good ale," he murmured.
Sansa expressed her concern, "Where will you go?"
Jon looked at her, "Where will we go?"
Sansa continues to stare at him.
"If I don't watch over you, Father's ghost will come back and murder me," he explained.
Sansa's lips quirked a little, "Where will we go?"
"I can't stay here, not after what happened," he said, staring at the fire.
"There's only one place we can go," Sansa murmured. "Home."
Jon gave her a look, "Well, should we tell the Boltons to pack up and leave?"
"We'll take it back from them," she said with determination.
Jon sat up straight, thinking she had gone mad.
"I don't have an army," he reminded,
"How many wildlings did you save?" she asked.
"They didn't come here to serve me," he countered.
"They owe you their lives," she said, standing up as she walked around the room. "You think they'll be safe here if Roose Bolton remains Warden of the North?"
"Sansa," he sighed.
"Winterfell is our home," she said with authority. "It's ours and Arya's and Bran's and Rickon's. Wherever they are, it belongs to our family. We have to fight for it."
"I'm tired of fighting," Jon exclaimed as he stood up, turning to face Sansa. "It's all I've done since I left home. I've killed brothers of the Night's Watch. I killed wildlings. I killed men that I admire. I hanged a boy younger than Bran. . . I fought…and I lost."
Jon looked at Sansa, seeing her expression change, grasping how much he had gone through. Jon won't deny that Sansa went through hell. Being abused, humiliated, tortured and raped. However, to take a life leaves a heavy burden. Each death drowned him in guilt. Some deserved death, like Karl Tanner and Styr. However, others like Qhorin, Mance, Ygritte, Olly… their deaths haunted him.
"If we don't take back the North, we'll never be safe," Sansa calmly said. "I want you to help me. But I'll do it myself if I have to."
Jon sighed since he couldn't leave Sansa alone in the world. If it was just him going south, he would be unrecognizable. A person in the crowd. But Sansa looked like a Tully and made a mark for herself. One idea he had was that they got to White Harbor and sailed off to Essos. Allowing them to escape this corrupted country. Yet that was a cowardly thing to do.
"You need to convince the Wildling Council to get their support," he sighed.
"And who is in charge?" she asked, now curious.
"Currently, the Dire Tribe, under the Priestess Boudica," he answered.
Sansa smirked to hear that it was a woman who was leading.
"But to get to Boudica, you need to get through her daughter Imogen," he added.
Sansa nodded, "Where can I find her?"
"Here," Jon answered. "She was on the battlement when you arrived."
Sansa paused, remembering the woman there, and nodded.
Jon sighed. As much as he doesn't want to involve the Wildlings, they will need all the help they can get. However, there is something he needs to tell her.
Sansa noticed this, "What is it?"
"There is something you should know about Imogen," he said but stopped.
Sansa looked at him to explain.
Jon gulped and took a deep breath. "Imogen and her family… are descended from Bran the Builder through his second son…."
Sansa paused, taking this information.
"They are Starks," Jon explained.
Sansa's eyes widen in hearing that there are more Starks out there. Not just the Karstarks. There are Starks, who are Wildlings who live Beyond-the-Wall.
.o0o.
Imogen's POV
A few days have passed since the arrival of the party of three. Jon had taken the girl whose hair was kissed by fire. She appeared in her late adolescence. Followed by a tall woman with short blond hair and a young fellow with dark hair. Tormund seemed intrigued by the tall woman, the one dressed in black armor. Yet after a few encounters of spotting each other, it was clear she was not interested. Tormund, on the other hand, seemed to be shot by an arrow of love.
Gods have mercy, I thought.
Edd noticed my caution and Jon's absence as he explained the young woman was Sansa Stark. Jon's half-sister. I was surprised since Jon mentioned that his sister was far south in King's Landing in the Crownlands. How on earth did the girl get up here? Edd wasn't sure but advised after all the shit those two went through, give them privacy.
I sighed, knowing I would do the same if my brothers were here. I paused, thinking about my brothers and the years I have lost with them. There was roughly a five-year age difference between the twins and I. They were roughly six years old when the Three-Eyed Raven took me. And when I returned, they were no longer mere children. Though young, they wanted me close. However, in the following years, I had to focus on the significant threat while Ethan and Aiden trained.
I wish they could have the childhood I partially had in Lunar Haven.
Years without fear of the Wights and White Walkers. They were young men dedicated to protecting our mother and the Dire Tribe. When Fenrir passes, they must work together to lead the Clan. Not just our family but all the Dires of Lunar Haven.
Tormund and I were invited for a meal with the new Lord Commander. We were confused since we ate in our room or with our comrades. Despite this strange request, Tormund could not refuse a meal. Therefore, we got ready and made our way to the mass hall after all the Crows had finished their meal.
There, we met the group that had arrived. Jon gave the introductions, as the tall woman was Lady Brienne of Tarth. The man was her squire, Podrick Payne, and the woman was Lady Sansa. Followed by introducing us to them.
"This here is Tormund Giantsbane from the Red Tribe," Jon introduced. "And Imogen, from the Dire Tribe."
Sansa stared at me with intrigue.
I merely nodded my head. I do not know how to act around nobility. Even with the Three-Eyed Raven's and Bloodraven's knowledge, seeing a woman of high class was strange. Then again, rank and status were hardly a thing unless you counted as elder, Chieftain, and Priestess. Otherwise, you earn your respect but are not entitled to it.
We all sat down, and as we ate, we were served. Merely root vegetables and scrap meat. Tormund took claim of a pig's knuckle as he ate it. Although, he was not giving Lady Brienne some decency as he stared at her in fascination. I have seen Tormund be interested in a woman, but never have I seen him in awe. Then again, a mere fuck is different than a fancy. However, Lady Brienne seemed disturbed by the attention.
Podrick kept his head down as he ate. Jon seemed to be thinking while Edd tried to figure out how this meal would go. Sansa lifted her fork, staring at what appeared to be an animal tongue. No doubt she was not used to this part of the animal.
"Sorry about the food," Edd apologizes, his mouth filled with food. "It's not what we're known for."
"That's all right. There are more important things," Sansa assured, setting the tongue down.
Having pity for the girl, I looked at my bowl and saw that I had some poor cuts of meat in it.
"Here," I said, pushing my bowl towards hers.
Her eyes widened, "Are you sure."
I nodded as we traded bowls. I was used to eating the whole animal. Not the selected parts. Sansa appreciated it as she took a bite of the stew. I cut the tongue into smaller bits and swirled it around so the gravy coated it.
Sansa stared at Jon, who seemed surprised by this. She was going to say something when the door opened. All our attention turned to the Crow, who came in holding a scroll.
"A letter for you, Lord Commander," The Crow said, handing it to Jon.
"I'm not Lord Commander anymore," Jon reminded.
Edd scowled at this; no doubt not pleased by Jon's choices.
Anyway, Jon accepted the scroll. He stared at the crimson seal, and his composure changed. Pulling off the seal, he altered the scroll into a letter. Sansa saw the wax seal, and her body tensed. Everyone stopped eating as they watched Jon read the letter.
"To the traitor and bastard Jon Snow. You allowed thousands of wildlings past the Wall. You have betrayed your own kind. You have betrayed the North. Winterfell is mine, bastard. Come and see. Your brother Rickon is in my dungeon-"
Jon stopped as horror was written on his face. He glances at Sansa, seeing her worry as well. He went back to reading.
"His direwolf's skin is on 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 wildling man, woman, and babe living under your protection. You will watch as I skin them living. You –"
He read it silently to himself as tension turned disturbed.
"Go on," Sansa insisted.
Jon rolled up the parchment, "It's just more of the same."
Sansa reached over, snatching it, as she unraveled the parchment and finished reading the rest, "You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping your sister. You will watch as my dogs devour your wild little brother. Then, I will spoon your eyes from their sockets and let my dogs do the rest. Come and see. Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North."
Disgust was written on her face.
Anger consumed Jon as his body became rigged, "Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North."
"His father's dead. Ramsay killed him." Sansa assumed. "And now he has Rickon."
"We don't know that," Jon said, a slight bit of hope.
"Yes, we do," Sansa confirmed.
I felt disgusted, and anger filled me. As this, Ramsay Bolton dares threaten my people and hold a child hostage. Defying sacred law by skinning a direwolf. And seeing Sansa's reaction and the threat he made, had raped this young woman. Tormund seemed to agree as his body became firm.
"How many men does he have in his army?" Tormund asked.
Sansa paused, thinking about it, "I heard him say five thousand once when he was talking about Stannis's attack."
Jon looked at Tormund, "How many do you have?"
"From my region, that can march and fight?" Tormund thought about it. "Two thousand. The rest are children and old people."
Jon looked at me.
"From the Dires and those under my mother's watch…three thousand maybe," I said. "I'm not sure."
There was more, but to be battle ready it would be three thousand.
"Will they help us?" Sansa asked.
I sighed, "My parents are more focused on the Second Long Night."
Sansa frowned as she turned her attention to Jon. "You're the son of the last true Warden of the North. Northern familiars are loyal. They'll fight for you if you ask."
Jon seemed to be overwhelmed by this.
Sansa reached over and grabbed his hand. "A monster has taken our home and our brother. We have to go back to Winterfell and save them both."
Jon took a moment to think about this. It would mean another battle, another war. However, there is a man who threatens the people of the North and the Free Folk. A sadistic man.
Jon nodded.
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