The Demon of Winterfell

Chapter Forty-Six: Begging

Jon and Emmelyne were leaving the Wall. As Emmelyne readied her horse, she adjusted the bow on her shoulder. Footsteps sounded behind her, and she turned to face Sansa. "I like your new dress. You made it, I presume?" Emmelyne smiled.

Sansa nodded. "I made you a gift," she said, holding out a bit of fabric.

Emmelyne furrowed her brow, taking it from Sansa's hand. It was a cloak. Made of black fabric with a fur trim, the cloak looked quite like Catelyn's. It's only difference was the bottom of the cloak; embroidered in thread there was a design. A pack of three dogs sewn in gray, led by a direwolf sewn in white, chasing a lion sewn in gold as it tried to flee. "Three dogs," Emmelyne said. "The sigil of House Clegane."

Sansa nodded, grinning. "Jon told me that you fell in love with Sandor."

Emmelyne bit down on her lip, smoothing her hand along the fur trim. "I know it looks like Mother's. That was on purpose. I know you two never got along, but Jon's looks like Father's, and I figured... well, you like it, don't you?" Sansa questioned nervously.

"I love it," Emmelyne reassured. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Emmelyne swept the cloak around her shoulders, smiling at her little sister. "Thank you," she repeated.

Sansa seemed proud of herself. She and Emmelyne embraced before Emmelyne climbed up onto her horse. Sansa moved to her horse, climbing on. They rode out of the gates, Melisandre and some others at their backs.

Beyond the Wall, the wildlings weren't agreeing with Jon. They spoke to one of them, a man called Dim Dalba. "We said we'd fight with you, King Crow, when the time comes and we meant it, but this isn't what we agreed to. These aren't white walkers. This isn't an army of the dead. This isn't our fight," he stated.

Tormund had a counterargument. "If it weren't for him, none of us would be here. All of you would be meat in the Night King's army. And I'd be a pile of charred bones just like Mance."

"Remember Mance's camp?" Dalba replied. "It stretched all the way to the horizon. And look at us now. Look what's left of us. And if we lose this, we're gone. Dozens of tribes, hundreds of generations. Be like we were never there at all. We'll be the last of the free folk."

Jon paused a moment. "That's what'll happen to you if we lose. The Boltons, the Karstarks, the Umbers, they know you're here. They know that more than half of you are women and children. After they finish with me, they'll come for you. You're right. This isn't your fight. You shouldn't have to come to Winterfell with me. I shouldn't be asking you. It's not the deal we made. I need you with me if we're going to beat them, and we need to beat them if you're going to survive."

Tormund added quickly, "the crows killed him because he spoke for the free folk when no other southerners would. He died for us. If we are not willing to do the same for him, we're cowards. And if that's what we are, we deserve to the last of the free folk."

Suddenly, the giant, Wun Wun, stood. He stared down at the people below him. "Snow," he said.

And with that, he walked away. Dalba looked around at the wildlings with him. They nodded, urging him to agree. He stepped forward, looking Jon in the eye and holding out his hand. Jon took it, smiling a little when they released each other. Dalba turned, walking off. The other wildings followed him. Tormund stepped up to Jon, who tore his eyes away from the others. "Are you sure they'll come?" Jon asked.

Tormund smiled. "We're not clever like you southerners. When we say we'll do something, we do it," he said.

He turned, walking off to join the other wildlings. Jon let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

That night, Emmelyne wrote a letter. She stared down at the words, unsure of if they were fit for their purpose.

Lord Howland Reed,

I suppose you have heard of me. I am Emmelyne Stark, eldest daughter and eldest remaining heir of Eddard Stark. I know my father, Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, was a good friend of yours when you two were in your youth. It is in times of war and turmoil that we must call upon our good friends to supply us with help. With this in mind, I must call upon you to perhaps lend a few of your men to the cause of my half-brother, Jon Snow. Our family needs all the help we can get to try and retake our home, Winterfell, from the clutches of the evil house Bolton. I am aware that while you do not have a very large army, it is a strong one. While I understand if you feel the need to deny us troops, I beg of you to at least consider the opposite.

Emmelyne Stark- The Demon of Winterfell