The Demon of Winterfell

Chapter Forty-Five: A Strategist

Dinner with the brothers of the Watch was a strange affair to Sansa. With the brothers leaning over each other to get food and ale, coupled with the subpar meal, it was not what Sansa expected. Emmelyne had learned that the blonde woman was named Brienne, and that the man who was with her was called Podrick. Emmelyne was sat next to Jon, their hands intertwined beneath the table. Brienne sat stiffly in her seat, trying to avoid Tormund's stare. Emmelyne chuckled. Edd glanced at Sansa, who picked at her food with a fork. "Sorry about the food," he said. "It took Emmelyne a while to get used to it, too. It's not really what we're known for."

"That's all right. There are more important things," Sansa smiled in return.

A brother stepped in, a letter in his hand. "A letter for you, Lord Commander," he said, holding the letter out to Jon, who just looked puzzled.

"I'm not Lord Commander anymore," he pointed out.

Emmelyne shoved him lightly. "Take the fucking letter," she stated.

So he took it, though somewhat hesitantly. A wax seal kept the scroll furled up. Emmelyne saw that it was stamped with the sigil of House Bolton; a flayed man. Jon slid the seal off as Emmelyne whispered to herself, "Roose or Ramsay?"

He unfurled the letter, looking around at everyone who was seated. Emmelyne nodded, urging him to read it. "'To the traitor and bastard Jon Snow. You allowed thousands of wildlings past the Wall. You have betrayed your own kind. Winterfell is mine, bastard. Come and see. Your brother Rickon is in my dungeon.'"

Jon stopped reading, slowly looking at Emmelyne. "True," she murmured.

He nodded stiffly, continuing to read. "'His direwolf's skin is on my floor. Come and see. I want my bride back. Send her 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 man, woman, and babe living under your protection. You will watch as I skin them living. You- -'" he stopped again.

"What does it say?" Emmelyne questioned.

He started to fold the letter. "More of the same."

Emmelyne took it from his hands, sighing before finishing the letter off. "'You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping your sister, my bride. The same fate will go to Emmelyne Stark, the Demon of Winterfell. I will take her for my own, and I promise you that she will bear me one child. You will watch as my dogs devour your little brother. Then I will spoon your eyes from their sockets and let my dogs do the rest. Come and see. Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.'"

Jon squeezed her hand lightly, but she slipped free of his grasp. "Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North," Sansa said. "Roose is dead, surely at Ramsay's hand. And now he has Rickon."

Emmelyne nodded stiffly. "And now he has Rickon."

Jon looked at her. "Are you completely sure?"

"I saw it. Ramsay's men cut off Shaggydog's head. I don't know what he's going to do to Rickon."

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

Sansa thought a moment. "I heard him say 5,000 once when he was talking about Stannis's attack."

Jon quickly looked at Tormund. "How many do you have?"

"That can march and fight? 2,000. The rest are children and old people."

Jon's gaze drifted to Sansa, who looked at him like he was stupid. "You're the son of the last true Warden of the North." Aegon. "Northern families are loyal. They'll fight for you if you ask."

She reached across the table, taking Jon's hand. "A monster has taken our home and our brother. We have to go back to Winterfell and save them both."

Emmelyne looked at Jon. "She's right," she stated.

Jon nodded, looking down at the floor. Emmelyne took his other hand, smoothing her thumb along the back of it. He was grateful for the touch, and he gave her comforting squeeze in return.

Jon and Emmelyne found it difficult to keep their relationship a secret. Edd, of course, already knew, and Jon had sword him to secrecy. Sansa had begun to notice their handholding, though she said nothing on the matter. Emmelyne had been sleeping in Jon's room, sneaking out of her own late at night when the brothers wouldn't notice. Of course, they noticed that both Ghost and R'hllor would lie outside the door. No one wanted to question the two, though whispers had begun to spread. A new nickname had sprung up for Emmelyne, surely stemming from Alliser's final words. 'Red Whore.' She didn't care much; she was used to being called a variety of insults. Jon, however, was enraged by the nickname. She tried to calm him, but that didn't work. He started threating to cut the tongues from the brothers he heard call her it.

They stood in Jon's office, looking over a map. "We can't defend the north from the walkers and the south from the Boltons," Jon said. "If we want to survive, we need Winterfell, and to take Winterfell, we need more men."

He threw one of the pieces on the map, letting it skid across the table and stop before Davos. Tormund sat down, staring at Brienne. Davos sighed. "Aside from the Starks and the Boltons, the most powerful houses in the north are the Umbers, the Karstarks, and the Manderlys. The Umbers and the Karstarks have already declared for the Boltons, so we're not doing so well there."

"The Umbers gave Rickon to our enemies," Sansa stated. "They can hang. But the Karstarks declared for Ramsay without knowing they had another choice."

Davos stuttered out a response. "I beg your pardon, my lady, but they know that a Stark beheaded their father. I don't think we can count on them either."

"How well do you know the North, Ser Davos?"

"Precious little, my lady."

"My father always said Northerners are different. More loyal, more suspicious of outsiders."

"They may well be loyal, but how many rose up against the Boltons when they betrayed your family?"

Sansa didn't answer. Davos continued. "I may not know the North, but I know men. They're more or less the same in any corner of the world and even the bravest of them don't want to see their wives and children skinned for a lost cause. If Jon's going to convince them to fight alongside him, they need to believe it's a fight they can win."

Jon was exasperated. "There are more than three other houses in the North. Glover, Mormont, Cerwyn, Mazin, Hornwood. Two dozen more. Together they equal all the others. We can start small and build."

Davos nodded at this. "I'm sure the Reeds would support us. Howland was a good friend of father's," Emmelyne added.

"Exactly," Jon agreed.

"I can write a lett- -" Emmelyne began.

"The North remembers," Sansa interrupted. "They remember the Stark name. People will still risk everything for it, from White Harbor to Ramsay's own door."

"I don't doubt it," Davos said. "But Jon doesn't have the Stark name."

"No, but Emmelyne does and I do, too."

Emmelyne smiled slightly, and Jon's eyes widened. Sansa continued, pleased that now she was getting listened to. "Jon is every bit as much Ned's Starks son as Ramsay is Roose Bolton's. And there are also the Tullys. They're not Northern, but they will back us against the Boltons without question."

"I didn't know the Tullys had an army," Davos noted.

"Emmelyne and I's uncle the Blackfish has reformed it and retaken Riverrun."

"How do you know that?" Jon asked.

"Ramsay received a raven before I escaped Winterfell."

"Thats good," Davos said. "The Blackfish is a legend. His support would mean a great deal. Stark, Tully, Reed, a few more houses, almost starts to look like a winning side."

Sansa grinned, and Emmelyne chuckled softly. This was going to work.