The Dove and Her Hound

Chapter Eleven - Warden of the North

Jon and Sansa watched you leave the room. They both knew that you had been holding back tears and it killed them inside. They sat in silence until Sansa broke it.

"That explains so much," she said.

"What?"

"Now I understand why she hates Brienne so much. She killed Sandor and lost Arya, the two people [y/n] held close to her heart that she knew were still alive." Sansa looked at Jon. "I would be the same way."

"My only question is when did [y/n] fall in love with The Hound?" Jon asked.

"His name is Sandor, Jon. That nickname is stupid and an insult. And it was bound to happen. I knew he was smitten with her the moment her saw her. It didn't help that she was the first one to approach him." Sansa smiled at the memories. "They talked a lot, when Joffrey wasn't making him do awful things. And he helped us both in King's Landing. Kept bad things from going too far."

"And he's dead now?" Sansa nodded.

"He is. Brienne and Sandor fought for our sisters. Sandor lost, Brienne did not."

"So she took [y/n] with her and [y/n] did not like it."

"Yes."

The two of them were quiet for a few moments.

"Where will you go?" Sansa asked.

"Where will we go," Jon said. "If I don't watch over the two of you, father's ghost will come back and murder me."

"Where will we go?"

"Can't stay here."

"There's only one place we can go. Home."

"What are we going to do? Tell the Bolton's to pack up and leave?"

"We'll take it back," Sansa said.

"I don't have an army."

"How many Wildlings did you save?"

"They didn't come here to serve me—"

"They owe you their lives. You think I'll be safe here if Roose Bolton remains Warden of the North?" Sansa said, getting up out of her seat. "Winterfell is our home. It's ours, and [y/n]'s, 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. It's all I've done since I left home. I've killed Brothers of the Night's Watch. I've killed Wildling's, I've killed men I admire. I hanged a boy, younger than Bran! I've fought, and I lost." Sansa stared at Jon for a moment.

"If we don't take back the North, we'll never be safe." She took a step closer to Jon. "I want you to help me. But I'll do it myself if I have to."

---

The next morning, Podrick came and walked you to the mess hall. You didn't feel like eating after the conversation you had with your siblings the night before, but you knew that you had to keep your strength up. You gathered your furs closer to your chest and walked to with Podrick. Your hand was on the hilt of your sword and you kept a wary eye on everything that moved.

"You're safe here, milady," Podrick said.

"Nowhere is safe," you responded. Podrick looked at you out of the corner of his eye and sighed internally. The two of you got to the doors and he opened them for you. Thanking him with a slight nod, you entered the room.

It was slightly warmer inside than out and you sat down on Sansa's left side. A plate of food was put in front of you and you dug in. You could see Sansa looking at the food with disgust and you laughed quietly.

"Eat," you said. "You need to keep your strength up."

"But it looks so gross," she said.

"There are worse things to eat." With no other words, you kept eating, tearing it with your hands and shoveling it into your mouth. You could see Brienne looking at you like you were a feral child.

"Sorry about the food," the one named Ed said. "It's not what we're known for."

Sansa was about to reply when the doors opened. Someone walked in and held something out to Jon.

"A letter for the Lord Commander," he said.

"I'm not Lord Commander anymore," Jon said back. He took the letter anyways and unraveled it. When he took the seal off, you saw the Flayed Man. The Bolton's.

"To the traitor 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 reading and looked at you and Sansa. Your heart was beating uncontrollably in your chest and yet it had stopped completely.

"His Direwolf skin is on my floor, come and see. I want my bride back, send it 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 will—" Jon stopped again and you could see the anger running through his eyes.

"Go on," Sansa said.

"Just more the same," Jon said, rolling the letter back up. Sansa grabbed it from his hands and started reading.

"You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping both of your sisters. 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. Ramsey Bolton, Lord of Winterfell," Sansa read. Your blood was boiling in your veins, your hands shaking in anger.

"Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North," Jon said lowly.

"His father's dead. Ramsey killed him and now they have Rickon."

"We don't know that."

"Yes we do," Sansa pushed.

"How many men does he have in his army?" Tormund asked.

"I heard him say five thousand once when he was talking about Stannis and his attack," Sansa said.

"How many do you have?" Jon asked Tormund.

"That can march and fight? Two thousand. The rest are all children and old people."

"You are the son of the last true Warden of the North," Sansa said. "Northern families are loyal and will fight with you if you ask. A monster has taken our home and our brother. We have to go back to Winterfell and save them both."

"I agree with Sansa," you said, anger evident in your voice. Jon looked between you and Sansa and after a moment, nodded his head.