Sansa stood with Davos beside Jon as he and Tormund convinced the Free Folk to prepare for war. She stood beside him and Davos as they traveled to meet with the Wulls and she convinced the mountain clans to join their cause. She stood beside him and Davos as they sailed to Bear Island and convinced little Lady Lyanna and her sixty two men to join their cause.
Glover turned them away, saying he wouldn't fight with wildlings and half-wildling mountain men.
They kept their distance from Winterfell as they met with the Tallharts, who pledged themselves to their cause. Then came the Dustins, lead by Lady Barbrey Dustin, who greeted them in Barrow Hall.
"So, you're planning to kill my good brother's bastard?" She asked looking over the trio before her. She was a tall, older, handsome woman with few wrinkles and graying brown hair tied in a widows knot behind her head.
Jon and Sansa shared a look before he nodded. "In a sense."
Barbrey leaned forward. "And how exactly do you plan to do that? A bastard oathbreaker and the wife of a southern fugitive."
"With three thousand men," said Jon, unphased by her bitter tone. "And a giant."
Barbrey's thin brow arched even more than it did naturally. Before she could speak, Sansa added, "We've sent a messenger to meet with the Manderlys and my aunt in the Vale. They've sent letters to the houses we haven't already sent word to or don't plan on meeting. Even without the Vale, we'd have almost as many men as the Boltons. With them we'd outnumbers him."
Barbrey's lips thinned as she sat back. "Why come to me then? Sounds as if you've already won."
Sansa looked to Jon, who stepped forward. "Because you're of the North, and the North won't be safe so long as Ramsay Bolton lives. This is a battle all of us have to fight, together, because it will only be the first."
Barbrey's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I've been freed of my vows to the Night's Watch," Jon said carefully, "but I haven't abandoned them. I can't, not after what I've seen beyond the wall."
A bitter laugh left Lady Dustin's throat as she shook her head. "And what's that? Giants?"
"White Walkers and a hundred thousand wights marching on the Wall."
Barbrey's dismissive smile faded as she met Jon's eyes, the fear creeping into her expression telling Sansa Lady Dustin saw the same honesty she had when he first told her. With a breath, Barbrey sat up. "You can't be serious."
"The new Lord Commander's already said he'd send out rangers to scout for them. Once we retake Winterfell and reclaim the North, we'll go and capture some to bring south and prove their existence to whoever needs it."
"Jon's fought them," Sansa said firmly. "He's killed a wight to save Jeor Mormont, he's fought off wights at Hardhome, fought and killed a White Walker by himself."
"You've killed a White Walker?" Barbrey scoffed. "I thought them undying ice made flesh."
"They shatter steel like glass, but they can be stopped. It requires dragonglass or valyrian steel, but it's possible."
Barbrey's jaw shifted. "So if you win this war, you plan to lead us all North? Beyond the Wall?"
"No," he answered firmly. "I'd keep us behind the Wall as long as we can. Man the castles along it as best we can without worrying about the South. When the Night King marches on the wall, and he will, we'll be there to meet him. It's either that or we leave. Every man woman and child start building boats and sail wherever they can, let the Night King kill whoever's fool enough to stay behind." He exhaled, finishing, "Including me."
Sansa looked to Jon with a somber smile before looking to Lady Dustin. The bitter woman's face had hardened slightly as she listened to Jon, examining him before shifting her gaze to Sansa. "And you?" She answered Sansa's arched brow by asking, "Will you stay to die as well?"
A smile played on Sansa's lips as she nodded. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."
Barbrey observed her for a moment before rising to her feet. "Then let House Dustin's banners fly beside Stark and whoever else will help us murder that mad dog," she said with a sneer, "though I ask you make Ramsay die in pain like the nephew he stole from me."
They broke up their growing army as much as they could to stay unnoticed as long as possible.
Jon and Sansa kept with the smaller heads of house while the larger ones kept with their men. They hoped that if word reached Ramsay they would assume Jon had gathered only a few small, broken houses to bolster his untrained wildling army. Let them think Jon a fool destined to fail. Sansa knew when the time came she would sit at the high table alongside Jon while Stark banners flew over Winterfell again.
Her first chance to see Jon fight had been when they came across a group of Bolton taxers coming from the Neck. The moment they spotted Jon's host the riders broke into a charge north.
Jon dug his heels, leading the brief chase while drawing Longclaw. Sansa followed with Brienne, Podrick, Tormund and a dozen more. She managed to see Longclaw slash through the neck of one rider, her horse turning to avoid the fallen body and startled horse.
Tormund moved toward the right, bringing his axe into the back of another rider. The man seemed stuck to the axe, pulled off his saddle until he dislodged and fell. His head snapped when he hit the ground and was dragged by his foot stuck in the stirrup.
Another rider let out a scream that was silenced when Ghost pulled him from his horse, dragging him aside and swiftly ripping his throat out before speeding toward another rider. The second had reached for a sword but Ghost bit through his arm and pulled him from his saddle, leaving the arm hanging by a strand of flesh before Ghost bit through his jaw, crushing bone and letting man choke on the flood of blood in his throat.
Coming up alongside the last rider Jon parried a blow with ease. Jon seemed to stand in his saddle and press his palm into the pommel of Longclaw. He drove the sword through the rider's armor to pierce his chest, the tip tearing the back of his cloak before Jon grabbed the reins of his horse and sank into the saddle, making the horse turn away from the still charging steed to rip the blade from the rider's corpse.
Word spread quickly from those who saw him, leaving no doubt that Jon was capable in battle. It seemed to bolster their spirits knowing Jon was a fierce as his direwolf.
However the first true battle of the War for the North happened in White Harbor after Wynafred Manderly married Rhaegar Frey.
Wynafred Manderly played the part of the reticent wife wed, her dark braided hair standing out against her white dress. Her sister Wylla, standing out with her dyed green hair, played at soothing her sister's concerns. The Freys called for a bedding and carried Wynafred off toward her room while Manderly women ushered Rhaegar Frey after her.
The door opened to Wynafred's room and she was tossed inside, clutching at her torn small clothes, ignoring the dozen men in the shadows, out of view of the Freys in the corridor.
She closed the door and rushed aside as one of the men leaning out a window tapped his axe on the window of the neighboring room. A Dustin man opened her door and Tormund charged out of the room, bringing his axe down on the crown of a Frey man's head calling for Wynafred to ready herself for her husband.
The others backed away, their confusion growing when they heard the door of the neighboring room open and the Manderly women backed away as Jon Snow rushed out of the door to drive Longclaw through Rhaegar's throat. The Frey choked as the blade was torn free while Jon's men rushed from both rooms, slaying the Frey men in the corridor and hurrying toward the hall.
With the women gone to carry Rhaegar, it left mostly men in the hall. They all rose to slaughter the Freys left behind as the doors burst open and northerners with bloodied swords and axes filled the hall.
Outside, the Stark forces rode down any fleeing Frey. No raven left White Harbor with word of the slaughter. White Harbor stayed silent, letting Frey blood run into the sea.
The Stark's first victory was as quick and quiet as Ghost.
Relief shook Wyman Manderly as he wrapped his arms around his daughters, looking to Jon after holding them. "Thank you," he said shakily, near tears. "I can never repay our debt to you, Lord Snow."
"I'd cast aside your debt and ask you let us stay here, unite and reclaim the North together."
"Of course," Wyman said with a nod as he released his daughters. "Whatever you need, House Manderly is yours."
Even with all Sansa had told her, Brienne felt unsettled looking up to the woman sat beside her son on a throne that seemed nearly as twisted as those sat upon it. At her side was the slender Petyr Baelish, who examined her and Podrick with a gaze that felt devouring, as if he was trying to pick them apart until there was nothing left for them to hide. The small smile tugging at his lips made her skin crawl.
Looking up from the letter, Lysa glanced at Petyr, reaching out to grip his arm. "You're her sworn sword? Why should I believe any of this? For all I know you're some harlot come to try and claim me beloved."
Brienne's brow furrowed, glancing to Podrick. "I swear, Lady Arryn-"
"Baelish," she corrected.
"Forgive me, Lady Baelish, but I was sworn to your sister Catelyn before she sent me away to bring the Kingslayer south. After Joffrey's death he sent me to find her and take her somewhere safe. The knights you sent with her were slaughtered by a Bolton hunting party and she was on her way back to the Vale when I found her." She noticed Lysa sneer while Baelish's eyes flickered and he grinned. "I swore myself to her and helped her continue her journey north as you wanted. It was arduous, but she survived. I'd say she's even stronger now than she was when I found her."
Lysa looked Brienne over with a dismissive snort. "Hopefully she's still a lady as her mother taught her."
"The truest lady I know," Brienne assured.
Baelish finally spoke. "This is wonderful news, dear wife. Our dear Sansa's intent to reclaim her home sounds as though it could work, but I fear without our aid she is doomed." As if expecting the anger that started to boil within Lysa, he turned to her with a smile. "I know you would never let your own niece face such peril on her own. Surely one or two thousand men would be enough."
Brienne saw Lysa's gaze drift off in thought, trying to work out what to do, how to best avoid helping Sansa. With a glance toward Baelish, Brienne knew she couldn't risk placing Sansa even more in his debt, not with how he looked the moment they mentioned her name. She had to keep him away from her as much as she could, even if it meant risking a trip through the Moon Door Podrick had warned her of.
"If it pleases you, Lady Baelish," Brienne offered carefully, "I'd be willing to personally escort Lord Baelish and as many guards as he desired to confirm Lasy Sansa's identity. He could even join us during the march and I would vow to keep him as safe as I will Lady Sansa. I'll make sure both are secure."
The panic that flooded Lysa's face was almost frightening. "No! No," Lysa shook her head furiously, digging her hands into Petyr's arm, pulling him to the throne.
She turned to face Baelish, who furrowed his brow while Robin frowned and looked away, clearly knowing what was coming. Brienne and Podrick's eyes widened as they watched Lysa's hand wrap around Baelish's neck.
"You can't leave me," she pleaded, shaking him by the neck lightly while he patted her arm, his amusement clearly put on. "You can never leave me!" She pulled him by his neck into a kiss, her hands sliding up to his hair and clutching it as she shoved her tongue into his mouth, looking like a fish trying to swallow him.
When she finally pulled herself away, Lysa turned to Brienne with a victorious grin. "My beloved is too precious to risk on a march to Winterfell, but I'll trust your word and call for men to sail with you to White Harbor."
"Thank you, Lady Baelish," Brienne said bowing.
She was thankful to have avoided calling on Baelish himself, but she was unable to avoid him when he approached her while they were departing. The lord found her on her way toward her horse after meeting with Lord Royce.
"I'm glad to hear you aided Lady Sansa on her travels," he said, making Brienne turn to him as he stepped away from the wall where he'd been waiting. "I had sent out men to search the Vale for her after I heard of her guards' deaths, but when she couldn't be found and we heard nothing from Castle Black I feared we had lost her for good."
"Lady Sansa is a survivor," Brienne said with a nod. "Even if I hadn't found her I've no doubt she would have found a way to the Wall." Not to the Vale, not once she realized what he was and what he wanted from her.
"And how is she now? Does she ride with her half-brother?"
"I don't know where they are currently," she offered carefully, "but I've no doubt she is safe and healthy. Protected by Lord Jon and the others."
Baelish' jaw shifted slightly, noting her unwillingness to say where she is. "Mm. Do tell her to write to her aunt and cousin. They miss her dearly. I'm sure once things have settled they'll want to see her again."
Brienne fought to keep from balling her hands as she nodded. "I'll let the Lady know, My Lord."