White Harbor was large enough and had enough supplies to help arm their forces. They still lacked horses, but they had enough to make sure every man had a blade and a shield. They managed to whittle a tree into a cudgel for Wun Wun and gave him armor that was little more than shields bound together in places, but thick enough to stop most arrows and bolts.
Days after the Freys were killed, ships approached White Harbor's docks, and from them hundreds of Vale Knights disembarked. Jon greeted Lord Royce while Sansa smiled at Brienne and Podrick's return.
"You were missed."
"I heard some of the Manderly men speaking of a battle," Brienne said looking around, as if she would see dead men littering the streets.
"There was," Sansa nodded. "The Freys are gone from White Harbor. Feeding fish at sea."
Brienne frowned. "I should have been here."
Sansa shook her head. "I'm fine, Brienne. You did as I asked, you brought the Vale. I'm proud of you." She turned to gaze to Podrick. "You as well, Podrick."
"I thank you, my lady," he said bowing his head.
Sansa looked around to make sure they were too far for anyone to overhear before asking Brienne, "How was it?"
With a sigh, Brienne held the pommel of Oathkeeper. "Disturbing. She was as you said… worse, perhaps. Whenever I saw her she was clung to Baelish or frantic to find him. She even accused me of being a harlot come to take her beloved from her when we met."
Sansa frowned. "I'm sorry you had to deal with her."
Briene shook her head. "I've heard worse, my lady. Words like that mean little when spoken by people so lost." Her gaze shifted slightly, surprising Sansa with the hint of guilt that flashed across her face.
"What is it?"
"I know you told me to speak to Baelish before I tried to use him against your aunt, but I didn't." Brienne looked to Sansa sternly. "I couldn't stand to add another debt to him, so I suggested he come identify you himself."
"Was she angry?" asked Sansa, glancing at Podrick who gave a confused, uncertain nod.
"At first I thought she was choking him," Brienne told her, "but then she was kissing him and agreed to send the men. When we were leaving he found me and asked after you, said you should write to your aunt and cousin who miss you and that they'd want to see you when things settled. No doubt speaking for himself."
Sansa stepped forward, reaching for Brienne's hands. "Thank you, Brienne. That was a risk you didn't have to take. Thank you for taking it to keep me from another debt."
"Of course, my lady," Brienne said flush with pride. She turned her gaze to where Jon stood with Wyman Manderly, Yohn Royce, Barbrey Dustin and the stout, gruff Old Torghen Flint with hands as big as hams. Davos was speaking to them while Tormund arched his brow at Brienne and smirked, earning an eye roll before she turned back to Sansa. "Things have gone well on your end I assume?"
"For the most part," Sansa nodded. "The Glovers turned us away, but they're the only rejection we've gotten so far. The Hornwoods and Ryswells have sent ravens and will join us, but we haven't heard from the Lakes, Condons and Cerwyns. Everyone in the Neck as well."
"I'm glad to see you've done so well, Lady Sansa." Brienne looked the young woman over, a somber smile taking her lips. "Your mother would be proud. Your father as well. Anyone would." She glanced at Jon, adding, "Both of you."
Sansa made her way through the halls of New Castle as flames flickered in the sconces, light dancing off the walls. Looking through the empty corridor she took a breath before knocking on the door.
After a moment it opened and she was greeted by Jon, his lips quirking up in surprise. "Sansa. Everything alright?"
She put on a playful pout. "Is it so odd for me to seek your company?" When Jon seemed to flash her an apologetic look, she shook her head and nodded toward her room. "Ghost hasn't shown up yet, so I thought it best to seek out his master to keep me company in his stead."
"That's where he's been spending his nights?" Jon laughed as he turned and made his way into the room. "I knew he was a turncoat." Standing by the table, pouring her a glass of wine, he turned to her with a smile. "I wouldn't worry too much. He does this every so often. Gets caught up in a hunt and ends up disappearing for days, even weeks sometimes. But he'll show up when it matters."
"Yes, but I was so used to having the extra pillow," Sansa said, chuckling as she took the goblet from Jon. "Though I fear if we went any further south it'd be too warm to appreciate it."
"Well then I guess you're glad we'll start north soon."
"Only if he's back in time," Sansa said taking a sip of wine. "I don't think I could manage sleeping in tent on the cold fields without him."
Jon turned to her, frowning. "Sansa, you don't have to ride with us. You could stay here, let them ready a ship to take you to the Vale if the worst should happen."
Sansa set her goblet down, meeting his eyes. "I won't be left behind. I swore back at Castle Black that I'd die at your side. I can't ride into battle with you, but I can stay with the archers, far from the fray. I can stay in the camp if you truly mean to force me off the field, but that's it. I won't stay here, I won't leave you to ride alone."
Watching her, Jon tapped the table beside him. "If you're certain, then I'll assign you some guards I can trust. Guards you can trust. Let them stand beside you on the field, and if things take a turn for the worst, let them guard you as you flee."
"I won't flee."
"Sansa," he groaned, walking from the table to the chairs by the hearth. "I can't fight a war if I'm worried about you."
"Then don't," she argued, following after him. "I made it past Moat Cailin on my own. I made it north with Brienne and Podrick. I don't need you to worry about me. I need to be there to see that you're okay."
Jon's brow knit as he turned to her. "What?"
Sansa sighed, looking like she'd said too much but steeling herself and committing now that it was said. "The last time I got comfortable you were murdered." Meeting his gaze, she took a breath. "I spent a day clinging to your dead body. I never left your side, and I vowed that if they made it into that room I would slash at the first man to come near you, and then I'd drive my dagger into my neck and die atop you. If the Starks are going to die, let us die as a pack."
"Sansa," he sighed, looking ashamed of his own murder. His eyes lingered on her in silence, his hand gripping the back of a chair. "I'll bring you with me. I'll give you a guard and let you watch over the battle. I'll let you command a company if you so desire, but you have to promise me that if I die and you make it through this, you'll stay alive. You'll claim Winterfell and make sure the northern lords man the Wall and Moat Cailin. Send some spare men to Edd, let them bring a wight back and send it south."
"It's not as if I want to die, Jon. I just… I know I can't survive this without you." She frowned, crossing her arms over her stomach. "The list of people I trust has grown since I left King's Landing, but you're the first. The one above all others. Above Brienne and Podrick and Davos and Tormund."
"I…" Jon sighed. "I'm the same. After I came back it felt like I had to second guess everything. Everyone. But not you."
Sansa felt her chest tight when he looked to her for emphasis. Not wanting to let it show, she smiled. "And Sam."
"And Sam," he admitted with a laugh. "Edd too. Davos had certainly earned my trust, Tormund too, even Melisandre in a way. And I trust Brienne when it comes to you. Pod too."
"Brienne said they'd be proud of us," Sansa said with a smirk. When he arched his brow she clarified, "Father and Mother."
The moment the word left her mouth she wanted to wince, wishing she could have grabbed it and pulled it back into her lips. But it was gone, and Jon's smile faltered, just barely, but enough for her to notice.
"I suppose she'll be the captain of your guard," said Jon. "Shame we won't have her in the field, but at least I'd know you're safe."
Shoving aside her regret she nodded. "Thank you, Jon."
He shook his head. "It's fine. This is your fight as much as mine. I'll make sure you see it end."
She'd been around him long enough to notice small things in his expressions. He generally kept a stoic expression that she and many others would tease was sullen, but it was different when something actually upset him, when he tried not to let it show. From what she could tell, her mention of her mother still unsettled him. Or maybe it was because it made him think of his own? The truth of her identity was lost the day their father lost his head.
"Jon, I…" Her hand clenched slightly before she shook her head. Taking a breath she offered him a smile, stepping forward to take his hand. "Whatever happens. We do this together, right?"
With a nod he repeated, "Together."
Sansa stood among the growing war council surrounding the large map of the North stretched across the table of the Merman's Court, New Castle's great hall. Having been one of the first to arrive with Jon, she found herself looking at the various sea creatures decorating the floor, walls and ceiling, some of which she couldn't name.
Eventually the lords and ladies all arrived and Jon remained standing at the end of the table, looking down the lines of them. Davos sat to Jon's left with Tormund while Sansa sat to his right beside Brienne. For a moment she felt out of place alongside such a gathering of lords, and yet she had no doubt that she had earned her place there.
Lyanna Mormont's presence had been enough for Wynafred and Wylla to convince Wymen Manderly to let them sit at the table as well. Beside them sat Barbrey Dustin and Rodrik Ryswell, with Eddara Tallhart and Harwood Stout across from them. All the mountain clan leaders had join them as well, though Sansa had mostly spoken with Old Torghen Flint and Big Bucket Hugo Wull. Yohn Royce and a few other Vale lords took the end where Melisandre sat scanning the group before her eyes settled on Jon.
Sansa doubted there had been a gathering of northern lords quite like this, especially when half were ladies.
"Once we march, they'll know we're coming," Jon said setting the Bolton marker over Winterfell. "Glover's vowed to keep out of it, but we know the Umbers have sworn to the Boltons. We haven't heard from the Condons, Cerwyns, Cassels, Mollens or Pooles… but they could just too close to Winterfell to risk being seen moving men here. Either they'll join us as we near, or they'll be vanguards for the Boltons. Whatever they choose, we'll find out when we march."
"I knew their daughters," Sansa said pointing to the Cassel and Poole markers. "They're loyal to the Starks. They'll help how they can or stay out of the way."
"The Karstarks are Bolton's men as well," said Rodrik Ryswell.
Jon shook his head, tapping the Karstark marker. "Perhaps not." That garnered a few looks from the others. "When I was at Castle Black I received a letter from Ramsay taunting me, but I also received one from Harald Karstark. He wrote that when we were on the battlefield he'd sound four horns and his men would turn on the Boltons."
"Cunt's lying," Torghen spat.
"I don't think so," said Jon, frowning as he looked to the others. "He wrote that his daughter had married Ramsay, likely to keep Stark blood in Winterfell. He wrote that every night he heard her screams and ever morning she had a new scar. He offered his betrayal of Ramsay only if I showed up with an army to free Alys and end her suffering." Seeing the doubt drain from their faces, he shook his head. "I think when the time comes he'll do what's right for his daughter rather than risk her spending another night with that monster."
Jon nodded to Davos, who started laying out pieces for the house of every lord in the north and all the vale men attending. Once they were set, Jon picked out the ones that hadn't responded to their letters and set them alongside the Glovers.
"As it stands, these houses are all to be considered neutral at best, but possibly working with the Boltons. If we assume they are, and add them to the Bolton, Umber and Karstark men that will be there, they'll likely have six or seven thousand men. Karstark makes up a little over a thousand of those, but we can't rely on him, so we'll count him as theirs for now."
Jon gathered the remaining markers, a mishmash of lesser houses and the simple design used to denote the free folk. "All of our forces together comes out to about six thousand thanks to the men of the Vale and the Free Folk."
Tormund smirked. "Sounds like a fair fight."
"It's not," Jon said pointing to Winterfell. "If he's smart this will be a siege, but we can't risk it. Winter is coming and I won't have men dying in the cold. We also can't risk them getting reinforcements from the south."
"We could divide our forces," Davos said looking over their markers.
"To what end?" asked Tormund. "How do we use that to avoid a siege?"
"We could give them something to hunt," Sansa offered.
"Use one of smaller groups as bait?" Wyman asked with a laugh. "You think it would work?"
"During my journey to the Wall after I escaped King's Landing, we kept running into hunting parties." Those who knew of them had their faces darken while she continued, "Ramsay and his men hunt people for sport. Usually women, but a few times we found them hunting men."
"So take a smaller force to draw them out of Winterfell, then hit them from the side," Davos said looking at the map.
"You could hide most of our army, let the Vale Forces and bulk be a surprise and surround them," Sansa suggested.
"Could make the Boltons think you failed to get some of the houses, or they only committed a small amount to shut you up," Davos said nodding. "Make him think less of you so he'll act out."
"You won't need to bother with that," said Lady Dustin. When they looked to her questioningly she pointed to Davos and Sansa. "Any of that. Luring him out, making him act rashly."
"We can't just show up and expect him to meet us," Manderly said before blinking. "Can we?"
"Ramsay is a bastard," Barbrey all but spat, looking as if she'd eaten a sack of lemons when she said his name. There was a brief tension among the lords, who looked to Jon. Sansa was glad to see him arching his brow in amused surprise as Lady Dustin looked to him. "And unlike Jon Snow, he isn't just a bastard in name. Ramsay is everything they tell us to fear of bastards. He is all the worst parts of his father untamed.
"You could show up with twenty men or twenty thousand and he'll act the same. The Night King himself could ride down with his army and Ramsay would claim that he could end it all with just him and his dogs. The boy is an arrogant fool desperate to prove his worth. He'll play some game to try and frustrate you and make you act rashly, but he'll meet you outside of Winterfell because he is rash."
Jon gave her a nod of thanks before looking to the map. "Even knowing that, I think there's merit in dividing our forces somewhat. Not to lure him out but to flank him. It's basic enough, but if Lady Dustin's right he'll likely bring all his men together right in front of Winterfell. We could send the Vale knights and about a thousand of our men west, let them wait until the battle begins and then ride in from the northwest. Push the Boltons toward us, but leave the east open for them to flee."
"Why not take them from all sides?" asked Sansa. "Surround them."
"It'll only lead to more of our men dying," said Davos.
"It's like backing an animal into a corner," Jon explained. "We'd force them to fight until one of us was all dead. If we leave a gap for them to retreat they'll have a place for men to leave, leaving those that stay weaker." He tapped a spot near a branch of the White Knife river. "We'll send some men here, have them handle any who flee. Kill those who put up a fight but accept surrenders as well."
"You'd let them live?" Lady Dustin asked, eyes narrowed.
"Any forced to fight may find mercy if they speak the truth. The rest will be given a choice to either take the black or face the North's justice. I'll swing the sword myself. Let them have their final words."
There was no North's justice, but there was a King's Justice. Jon was looking at the map so he didn't notice the look the rest of the table shared, or the smile that flashed across Melisandre's lips. The entire time they'd been gathering houses to their side he spoke of himself on the front lines, but also made their well being his responsibility. It was doubtful he even realized what he was doing, it was just natural for Jon.
The doors opening drew their eyes as one of the guards entered. "Pardon, my lords, but there are riders from the Neck."
"How many?" asked Wyman.
"Over a hundred," the man answered.
"Their banners?" asked Davos.
"Flint, Fenn and Reed."
"Perfect," said Jon. "We can use some to be out net on the river."
"Camp their men with the rest," Wyman ordered, "we'll meet their heads of house here."
The man nodded, closing the door as he left. Looking around the table, Jon nodded to himself, as if deciding. "When we meet with Ramsay before the battle, I'd ask the lords of the Vale stay with their men to keep their presence quiet." The knights nodded, and Jon turned his attention to the others. "I'd also ask anyone willing to ride with me to meet him."
"I'm afraid I'd have to sit that out," Wyman said with a self deprecating laugh.
Jon smiled kindly. "Of course, my lord."
Sansa felt her stomach curl oddly as the older Manderly girl smiled at Jon, "I'll go."
Catching her eyes, Jon nodded. "You're more than welcome. Having you there, unwed to a Frey, could show we've pushed them out of White Harbor and startle a few men."
"And show anyone with half a brain that Jon Snow's begun to avenge the Red Wedding," said Lyanna Mormont.
That garnered a few supportive nods that pleased Sansa, but she felt her stomach tighten again as Wylla leaned forward and smiled at Jon. "I'll join you as well."
"Wylla," Wyman groaned. "I can't have both my granddaughters ride off to war."
"Do you fear they'll lose?" asked Wylla. "That you'll need me to secure our safety? I'd rather sink to the bottom of the Narrow Sea then marry some Bolton loyalist or some southron lord."
Seeing Wyman's face flush with anger, Sansa offered, "She could ride with me." The lords turned to her, so she smiled. "I'll ride with Jon, so he's agreed to let me have a personal guard. I'll even be on the edge of the field during the battle, so anyone could join us there as well if they wish."
"Lady Sansa," Wyman started.
"Thank you," Wylla cut her grandfather off, her tone making it clear she'd ride off whether he liked it or not.
When the doors to the hall opened again, they found three lords making their way inside lead by a small man with short brown hair and green eyes. Older than Jon or Sansa. The steward motioned to the men, "Lord Lonnel of House Fenn, Robin of House Flint, and Howland of House Reed."
The green eyed man hadn't taken his eyes from Jon as they approached. "You're Jon Snow," he said after brief greetings to the other lords.
"I am."
Howland extended his hand with a somber nod. "We have much to discuss."