Sansa had never felt safe during the start of her travels. Being alone
with four men, even knights of the Vale, left her fearing what she
might wake to most nights. What might happen should the men
decide they were far enough from the Vale their knightly vows no
longer mattered. When Petyr was right and their desires outweighed
their honor.
That was gone with Brienne and Podrick. Podrick may have been a
man, but he didn't seem the type, almost childish despite Brienne
once asking if he wasn't too old to be a squire. Even if he tried,
Brienne would surely cut him down.
Still, she wasn't safe. She remembered the screams, the barking
dogs, the yells and clash of steel.
The second time she heard them, she froze. Her heart stopped
beating, her breath stuck in her throat, threatening to choke her.
When she saw Brienne leap to her feet, ready to rush off and help
the screaming woman, Sansa dashed to her side and grabbed
Brienne's arm.
"Don't," she begged. "Don't leave me. Not again."
"Again?" Brienne asked, brow furrowed, shifting slightly as she
glanced toward another scream.
"The others, the knights I was with before, they rushed off and died. I
heard them die."
Brienne nodded, looking to Podrick. "The horses."
They ran west, traveling with the wind, through a stream and the
fields of a small farmstead.
Once Brienne was sure they weren't being followed anymore they
stopped to rest for the night. Even as the sun set she stood vigilant
until Podrick took her watch. The dogs had chased them through the
afternoon, driving them further from their destination yet again.
When the sun rose and Sansa stirred, Brienne knelt beside her while
Sansa looked over her hair to make sure it was still dark. She only
had so much of the dye, and it had to last until they reached the
Wall.
"I had a thought, my lady, if you'd hear me."
"Of course, Brienne."
Brienne removed a small sheathed dagger she'd tucked into the
back of her belt. "If they should come upon us at night, we may not
be able to run. They could come as a pack, a group of them large
enough that Podrick and I would not be able to stay at your side, or
would be forced to ask you flee while we stayed behind. I'd ask you
take this, keep it at your side, so that if the worst should happen, if I
should die, I might hope where my sword can not protect you this
dagger may."
Sansa looked at the small dagger she'd seen Brienne use to skin the
game found during their travels.
It was that dagger she pushed through the eye of the mutt that threw
her to the ground weeks later. It was that dagger she aimed at the
man in Bolton armor before Brienne's sword pushed through his
neck. It was that dagger she clutched as she walked behind Brienne
and Podrick when they came upon the half-flayed woman, watching
Brienne hold back tears as she slit the writhing girl's throat to end
her slow misery.
And it was that dagger she returned after taking the sword and
dagger from a dead Bolton man with a silent vow to drive them into
her own throat if they ever caught her.
They took what they could from the men they killed, took their
provisions, their coin, let whoever found them think bandits took their
lives. Yet they hounded them, Brienne telling her the dogs might
have caught their scent from their last battle and tracked them. Again
and again they came, again and again the Wall remained a distant
dream.
She found herself dreaming of it, of stepping through towering black
gates. In her mind it was grand in it's own way, Castle Black. Surely
it would match the others she'd seen, glorious in it's stoicism. Like
Jon, surely. He'd have done well, made a name for himself.
If she was kind to herself, willing to let herself be a fool again, she
imagined the gates opening and him standing there with arms open,
ready to embrace her. If her dreams were honest then she imagined
him confused, glad to see a familiar face but disappointed it was her,
wishing it was anyone but her that survived. He would put aside his
annoyance with her, with the petulant child she'd been when she last
saw him, and he would protect her. No matter what he felt he would
take care of her, do what was right to make sure she survived.
Yet she found herself faltering the longer it took. They stayed in a
home that stank of the flayed corpses hanged outside, hoping it
would mask their scents long enough to let them rest a day without
being hunted. Laying there in a dead man's bed, unable to sleep
because of the stench coming through the window, was the first time
she wished she wouldn't wake.
Every time they were forced back, force to prolong their travels and
pushing her further from Jon, despair pulled at her heart, telling her it
would be better if they got her. It would hurt, likely for a long time if
the bodies they came across were any indication, but maybe she
was wrong, maybe the gods did exist and she'd be with her family
once she bit through her tongue or cut open her neck. Maybe she'd
be with the rest of them watching over Jon and even Arya, if she'd
somehow survived on her own after Brienne lost her.
But Starks endure, and she was Sansa Stark. She'd swear the
weeks and months of traveling had worn it all away, torn the stupid
little girl she was apart, but she still found hope when she thought of
the Wall.
She would make it through this and find Jon Snow. He would save
her from this, he would make her feel safer than Brienne and Podrick
could. He would be her salvation. He had to be.
And yet as they saw the Wall peak over the horizon she knew it
would have to wait. She couldn't arrive as Sansa Stark. She couldn't
ride in there with a dagger on her hip and a sword on her saddle.
She needed to be a lady, even a bastard lady, so she took the last of
her dye and gave Podrick her stolen weapons.
Though nothing like she'd imagined, the run down remnant of Castle
Black was a relief.
"Sometimes a man has to make hard choices," said Sam. "Choices
that might look wrong to others but you know are right in the long
run."
"You believe that?" asked Olly.
"With all my heart," he answered with a hint of a laugh. Seeing Olly
leave Sam grabbed the tray he brought. "Try not to worry, Olly. I've
been worrying about Jon for years." With a smile Sam declared, "He
always comes back."
Olly was barely out the door when they heard the horn. The men
calling to open the gate.
Sam's brow knit as he got to his feet. "He can't be back so soon.
Must be the southern gate."
He made his way to the yard, watching the three riders pass through
the gates. Two women and a man, though the taller woman wore
dark armor.
"The Night's Watch welcomes you, Lady…" Alisser Thorne looked to
the hooded woman on the female knight's right.
She looked to the blonde knight who sat tall. "Lady Alayne Stone,
niece of Petyr Baelish, Lord Protector of the Vale. Escorted by her
sworn sword, Brienne of Tarth and my squire, Podrick Payne."
"And why have you come?" Alisser asked gruffly.
Alayne dismounted with Podrick's help. "To meet with the Lord
Commander and discuss trade."
"Trade?" Thorne scoffed. "What trade?"
Sam noted Alayne's eyes scanning the courtyard, searching. "Are
you Lord Commander?"
Thorne's face contorted in a flash of anger, gritting his teeth. "No, I'm
afraid I'm not. Our Lord Commander isn't here presently."
There was a hint of disappointment when her eyes finally returned to
Thorne, having not found what she sought. "Then perhaps I should
wait to meet him."
Thorne looked at the trio, thinking it over before looking to the men
gathered. Just as he'd started to turn to return to his room, Thorne
spotted Sam. "Tarly." Sam winced before turning to him. "Show our
guests to a room. One near the wildling girl."
Sam nodded, making his way down to their guests. "If you'd follow
me."
They shared a look before following him. Once the brothers had
started to return to their duties, Alayne moved toward Sam. "What
did he mean about the wildling girl?
Sam frowned, looking over her. "There's another who stays here.
Gilly, she's… She's from beyond the wall. Her and her baby have
been here for ages." Seeing the confusion on her face, Sam slowed
to a stop, an assuring smile taking his face. "I swear, my lady, she's
nothing like the stories you've heard. She's a quiet, sweet girl.
Beautiful and nice and brave. Braver than I."
Alayne glanced back to Brienne, sharing a solemn smile before
Alayne returned her attention to Sam. "I doubt that, Ser Tarly."
Sam laughed, starting to walk again. "I'm no Ser, my lady. Just a
craven." He smiled sadly. "I'm no Jon Snow. Just Sam."
Alayne tensed slightly. "Jon Snow? Do you mean the bastard of
Winterfell?"
"Aye, Lady Stone. He's the bravest man I know. It's why we voted
him Lord Commander."
Alayne stopped mid stride, a slight gasp escaping her. Brienne and
Podrick shared a surprised look. "He's Lord Commander?"
Sam grinned, pride clear in his face as he nodded.
"And where is he now?" Alayne asked. "That man said he wasn't
here."
Sam's smile turned solemn as he nodded. "He's beyond the wall."
Shock forced his brow to rise when Alayne grasped his wrist,
stepping close to him. "Is he alive?"
The hint of panic and fear in her voice confused him, but he nodded.
"I don't doubt it, my lady. He'll return, I promise." His head tilted
slightly. "Did you know him?"
Alayne took a moment to gauge him. Tarly was a southern name. He
was a brother of the Night's Watch. She couldn't trust his neutrality,
couldn't trust he wouldn't tell someone and they would trade her to
the Lannisters for support or supplies.
"I saw him in passing," she said with a small smile. "I was a
handmaid for Queen Cersei when she traveled to Winterfell."
Sam chuckled, "I see."
Turning to continue leading them to their room, he couldn't help but
shake his head and laugh. Even with her dark auburn hair frayed
beneath her hood and weary from travel, Alayne was one of the most
beautiful women he'd ever seen. Of course she'd remember Jon
after seeing him in passing years earlier.
Author Notes:
Originally I just figured I'd have her arrive early on in season 5, but
decided I want Jon to go to Hardhome. It's one of the things I like
better in the show and think it adds a lot.
That meant her trip had to be way longer than I ever intended, but I
think it works out. She's not with Ramsay or in the Vale with Petyr,
but she's still facing a hardship. She has the constant fear of the
hunting parties which make her journey terrifying, arduous and
frustrating. It also gave me a chance to have her rely on Jon in a way
before she ever met him again.
I was reluctant about giving her any kind of weapon since it's so
outside of her character, but I thought it made sense. Don't worry,
she won't suddenly end up on the front lines cutting down Boltons
with Jon.
Also, fuck Olly