Tormund was greeted with open arms. He was now a friend of the crown and as a friend of the crown, he was welcomed most warmly.
"What news from the North?" Daenerys asked. Tormund took a deep breath, wishing he did not have to relay this information.
"Things are not well in the North. The harvest is failing and we have little food, not enough to feed all of the families. We prioritise women and children, but the men are becoming weak, and the white walkers are continuing south." Daenerys shook her head. She could not let her country suffer.
"We shall send fruits of the southern harvest north and I must ask one thing of you." Daenerys announced.
"What is it?" Tormund replied in a way unbefitting of the Queen, but befitting of Tormund. Donors did not notice, or if she did, she did not show it.
"I would like you to take a message to Jon Snow." She stated and watch Tormund's face fall.
"I have been told by Jon Snow to remain here, as a representative of the North." He answered back, much to the surprise of everyone in the room.
"Is that so? Well, someone else shall have to deliver this message, as it is too sensitive for a pigeon." Sansa had not thought of volunteering, until she had opened her mouth.
"I shall go." She announced proudly. Nobody had expected Sansa to volunteer and the room fell into a stunned silence.
"Are you sure?" Daenerys asked, sad to see Sansa go.
"Yes, it will be good for me to see my brother." She explained and Daenerys nodded, accepting the decision.
Petyr was furious when he got wind of Sansa's journey to the North. She was being childish. He had turned her away and now she was throwing a tantrum, a tantrum that could risk her life. He had not been present when she had made her decision, else he would have stopped it immediately. The North was no longer safe, and he could not have her putting herself in danger.
Varys understood what was going on. Baelish had been engaged to the girl for quite some time and she was becoming impatient. He had grown less affectionate in public, out of fear of people's gossip. Varus was a little disappointed in his colleague. He knew Petyr to be an outspoken man, who did not bow to the whims of others. But on this he was being budged and it did not suit him.
"You know the North is not safe." He stated to Sansa, as they walked through the Vale.
"Yes, I know." She sighed, he felt sorry for her, feeling she had to resort to something so drastic.
"You know, you could make him suffer a different way, a way that would not put you in danger." Sansa's head snapped up, knowing that she had been found out, then she shook her head.
"I just need to get away." She looked down to the ground, wishing that it had not come to this. Varys watched her leave, he wished that he could stop her from going. He felt a kind of paternal affection for her and it pained him, seeing her go to the North.
Sansa would not see anyone for the rest of the day. She could not stand to see Petyr and she certainly would not sit through him lecturing her on what a bad idea it was to go and how she was to stay at the Vale. She simply would not have it. So, she asked Brienne to man her door while she spent the day making a new dress.
He had tried to go to her, to talk her out of this silly plan, but he had come up against Brienne and even the best of men knew that going up against Brienne of Tarth was a bad idea. So, he left her and his mind became bitter. If she wanted to go, she could go. He would know if she cared if she returned to him. She wanted to be a child and tantrum, he would deny her the attention that she was striving for. He had no doubt in his mind that she would come back, begging for forgiveness for being so childish.
But Sansa had no intention of begging, nor returning to Petyr before she left. She was hurt, he had changed like the wind and she was ready to take a break from it all and venture back to the North.
Daenerys embraced her as she stood in front of the carriage. She would be travelling for two days and two nights. But she had no intention of leaving her carriage for the length of the journey. She wanted to be alone. This was what this whole trip was about, being away from Petyr and away from her thoughts. Daenerys slipped a note into Sansa's pocket.
"Please, deliver this message to Jon Snow." She gave Sansa her orders and she embraced her one final time, before watching her get into the carriage.
Petyr was watching from above, not wanting to be seen. He had an overwhelming feeling that he had failed. He should have been married to Sansa by now, they should be sharing a suite and dining together. There should be no sneaking around in the late hours of the night. He wanted to blame the fire, he wanted to blame the busy nature of the state. But when it came down to it, there was no one to blame but himself. Daenerys would have been happy to have had their wedding in the Vale and the sooner the better. But Petyr had stalled, and waited for the right time, and he feared now that it would never come.
Sansa watched the Vale disappear into the distance and wondered if she was making the right decision. It was very drastic, going to the North, and it was not safe, with the current state with beings beyond the wall. For the first time since making this decision, she was scared.
Petyr began to panic. He couldn't think of anything to do. He paced about his office and tugged on his hair in frustration. He could not believe that he had just let her go, that his pride had stopped him from acting. This was a cry for attention and he had ignored it.
Tyrion knew that Petyr had made a mistake, he could see it in his behaviour. The way he would tap his feet in meetings and sweat would trickle down his forehead when the weather was rather mild. He regretted letting Sansa go and now he had to deal with that regret. Tyrion had pondered on the idea of talking to him about it. He wondered if perhaps Petr would feel unburdened if he shared his problem, but he was met with a stone wall of bitterness and impatience.
Sansa rather enjoyed the journey. She rested and watched the kingdom go by, rolling green fields and shorelines, now covered with the bitter chill of winter. She pulled her covers over her and counted down the hours before she would be with Jon.
Jon Snow had worked non-stop since his sister had left for the south. The white walkers were becoming an increasingly large problem and, along with his advisors, he had managed to save as many lives as possible. But when he laid awake at night, he secretly wished that he could flee the North, and venture to somewhere far safer, where nobody knew his face. He missed being bastard Jon Snow, he missed being a nobody.
The announcement of the Queen's carriages came and Jon rounded up the most important people to go out and meet their visitors. He had heard no news of a visit, but he would be as warm and accommodating as he could be to whoever had travelled from the Vale to see them.
Jon expected the Queen, or potentially a member of the small council. But he almost lost his footing when Sansa stepped off of the carriage, wearing a stunning rust red gown. The moment was silent, both stood in shocked awe of one another. But once the moment ended, Sansa ran towards Jon, tears streaming down her cheeks and his warm, familiar embrace comforted her.
Jon could not understand what kind of business Sansa had in the North. She was definitely more safe in the south, a point that Jon had ensured to inform her of, but she was here now, and she was more welcome than anyone who could have come.
Sansa hoped that she could spend time with her brother and he could help her with her dilemma. She was very hopeful when she was invited to sit with Jon only a few hours after she arrived.
"Sansa, why are you here?" He asked her, his voice concerned.
"The Queen asked me to deliver this." She passed across the letter and Jon took it.
"But anyone could have given me this letter. Why are you here?" He read Sansa like a book. He knew that she would not be here unless there was something seriously wrong in the south.
"I needed to get away and I wanted to see you, Jon. Spend some time with you." She smiled up at him hopefully, but felt her face fall when she saw his disappointed expression.
"I leave in the morning, on a raid of a white walker territory that we have learnt of. I shall be gone for many weeks. I am sorry Sansa, but I think you should return to the Vale. Whatever is happening there is no worse than what is happening here. You shall be safe there and I can not say the same for Winterfell. I am sorry." He apologised and Sansa felt her heart sink. And it sank further when she saw Jon rise and look down at her.
"I have to go now. I must ask you to leave." He embraced her and felt her chest shake.
"I love you." She whispered, not knowing what to say.
"And I you."
She watched him leave, letting the devastation of the situation wash over her. She wished to get away from her problems, to spend time with her brother, but he had more important appointments and hearing of his misfortunes made her feel very bratty and small. She wished she had never come, that she had stayed in the Vale and sulked and pouted. But now she had another two day journey ahead of her. The people with her were surprised to be leaving so soon, but they knew not to ask. It was not yet sundown when Sansa left Winterfell. And despite her love for the place, she did not wish to stay. She felt very alone, Arya was somewhere out in the world, Jon was going into battle, her parents were dead, her brothers were dead and the only friends she had were those in the Vale. She didn't know what would happen when she returned, but she closed her mind off to this question, knowing that it would bring her down, and focused on the passing scenery of the Kingdom, covered in ice and snow.