Ursa Major | Tormund Giantsbane

Chapter 6

The river slowed down.

She hadn't been able to feel her arms for quite some time. Whatever motions they managed to make, it was The Blackfish who kept her from drowning. There came a point where he had no choice but to throw her over his back, letting her hang onto his shoulders as he moved for the both of them.

"Here, girl," he said, guiding her toward the shore. The sun was rising, a small beam of light illuminating the nearby dirt road, perhaps the Kingsroad. They were far south, near the Trident. If they went west, they could eat something in Ramsford or Oldstones.

"Get up," said The Blackfish, pushing her onto a rock. "There, climb that."

Weakly, she pulled herself up, flopping onto the grass and coughing out as much water as she could. The Blackfish clapped her on the back, making sure her throat was clear.

"They're all dead," she whispered, holding her head. "They're all dead."

"But we are not," said The Blackfish. "And what do you intend to do about that?"

What came next? What could possibly be the right choice? She could still see the blood that burst out of the twins' heads, she could hear Queen Talisa and Lady Catelyn's terrified screams. She could see men slaughtered left and right as if it were happening before her eyes.

She started to cry, shaking her head. "I want to go home. I just want to go home."

"As do I. I must reclaim Riverrun before those filthy Freys seize it. If you come with me, I will protect you. If you do not... I will find you a horse to get you North."

She turned away, stifling a sob. "We left them to die. We just– we ran."

"There was no other choice," said The Blackfish. "If we had stayed, we would have died. It was every man for themselves. If I could have saved your sister, I would have. It was too late. By the time we realized something was wrong... it was over." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Think, why would Lord Bolton have let you escape?"

"I don't know," said Thyrsa. "I don't– I don't know. Aspen thought he liked me. But I don't– I don't know if that's enough."

He snorted. "Could be. You were Robb Stark's advisor for a long time, you were a valuable person... perhaps he hoped to use you to secure your brother as an ally."

"Smalljon wouldn't," she said. As the words left her mouth, she realized she wasn't sure. "I can't... I can't go home, can I? Not yet. Not if that might be the case. Five Kings... Two are already dead. Renly Baratheon, Robb Stark... what's left? An idiot from the Iron Islands, a heretic from Dragonstone, and a child of incest! No one left that fights for the North. Oh gods it wasn't supposed to come to this. If he'd just– if he hadn't–" she scoffed, shaking her head, "Roose Bolton. He's a traitor. He... he just..."

"Fuck the kings," said The Blackfish. "You, bear cub, you don't need to answer to anyone. The Starks are practically extinct."

She narrowed her eyes. "Not all of them." She staggered to her feet. "I need to ride to the Wall, to tell Eddard Stark's bastard what I saw. Whatever his last name, he is Lord Stark's eldest living son. I won't answer to a Baratheon or a Greyjoy or a Lannister. I cannot stay out of this conflict; I have to answer to someone eventually. The wars will rage on and Last Hearth won't be safe forever. I will need men to stop Smalljon if he's sided with the Boltons. I'll need someone who has even a small claim to Winterfell to make sure the Boltons don't get to keep their power."

He nodded. "Then let's get you a horse and another sword."

He knew a man in Ramsford who gave them each their own horse, sword, a set of bow and arrows, and some armor. Thyrsa thanked The Blackfish, promising him that as long as she lived, House Umber would come to his aid. He vowed the same of the Tullys.