Brienne was suffering through another meal with Tormund gazing at her when the door opened and a brother held out two letters for Jon. "Letters for you, Lord Commander."
"I'm not Lord Commander anymore." When the man remained, relented and took them, letting the man leave. The others watched as he examined them, one with a flayed man seal and the other with a Karstark sunburst. Glancing at Sansa he opened Ramsay's letter.
"To the traitor and bastard Jon Snow,
"You allowed thousands of wildlings past the wall. You have betrayed your own kind and you have betrayed the North. Winterfell is mine, bastard, come and see.
"Your brother Rickon is in my dungeon…" Sansa's breath stuck in her throat as the words left Jon's lips, looking to her. He saw she was frozen in fear, imagining all the awful things the Boltons could be doing to their brother.
Turning back to the letter Jon continued. "His direwolf's skin is on my floor, come and see. I hear of your love for wildlings. Have you taken a lover? You bastards never were good at keeping vows. Come claim your brother, let him take the black with you and I will not trouble you or your wildling lovers.
"Ignore me and I will ride north to slaughter every wildling man, woman and babe living under your protection. You will watch as I skin them living. You-"
Sansa noticed his eyes darken as he stopped. "Go on."
"It's just more of the same," he assured, but she grabbed the letter and unrolled it.
"You will spend the rest of your days in my dungeon, until you are no longer yourself. You will watch as I peel the flesh from your brother. You will beg and smile when I end your hunger with his skin.
"You will ride with me to find your sisters and watch my men take turns raping them. You will watch as I cut their bastard babes from their wombs and feed them to my dogs. And you will smile and kneel as I spoon out your eyes and let me dogs do the rest. Come and see.
"Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North." She let the letter roll into itself as she fought back the tears burning her eyes. "He has Rickon."
"We don't know that," he argued.
Sansa's eyes sank from his to the unread letter in front of him.
Jon reached for the sunburst letter and broke the seal, unrolling it. All the anguish that had filled him when he read the bastard letter faded, replaced by confusion as he shook his head before reading it aloud.
"To Lord Commander Snow,
"I will never forgive your brother, but I've learned there is worse than an empty headed Stark in this world. My daughter has married him. Every day she wakes with another scar. Every night I hear her screams. Some days I think of driving a knife into his heart. Others I think of driving one into hers to end her suffering.
"I'm not foolish enough to ask the mercy of a Stark, whether in blood or name. I only ask you spare Alys the pain I've damned her to. Give her a better life, one in peace in Karhold. She's suffered enough. I will give you my life and the life of every man I command if you come and free her.
"I saw Ramsay thrust a dagger into his father's heart. I saw the empty husk he's made of Theon Greyjoy. I saw your brother when Small Jon Umber brought him and gave Ramsay his direwolf's head. I'll do what I can for your brother, but I make no promises, not until you and your wildling army are here and Alys is safe. I can't risk it, I only have a thousand men to his four.
"Until I see you on the battlefield I am your enemy and you are mine. There you may hear a horn four times. There you may see Karstark men turning their back on you and facing flayed men. There you may find Alys and Rickon riding to you, away from here.
"Until then, I pray you a better man than me, one who can spare a child from the crimes of her father. Spare her from the suffering I've sold her to. Be a better man, Jon Snow.
"Harald Karstark, Lord of Karhold."
Watching him drop the letter on the table Sansa frowned. "Poor Alys." She shook her head. "If this is true, if there are a thousand men waiting to betray him, there's a chance. We can't wait."
Jon turned to Tormund. "How many do you have?"
"That can march and fight?" Tormund took a moment to think. "Two thousand. The rest are children and old people."
Jon looked to Sansa and she saw him thinking it over. "You're the son of the last true Warden of the North. Northern families are loyal. They'll fight for you if you ask."
His eyes fell, thinking of the daggers again, of their betrayal.
Sansa reached for his hand, squeezing it as she spoke, pleading. "A monster has taken our home and our brother. We have to go back to Winterfell and save them both."
Jon's eyes shifted in thought, meeting her gaze with a nod. "We won't rely on him though," said Jon. "We'll be ready for him to turn on us. For all we know it's a trick to leave us open."
"Whatever it is we'll use it," Sansa agreed. "We'll kill them all if we have to. Make sure the North remembers there's nothing more dangerous than a pack of direwolves at their doors."
After sending word back with Karstark's rider, Jon joined Sansa, Brienne, Davos, Edd, Melisandre, and Tormund around a table with a map of the North and small disks for each house.
"We need to take Winterfell. We can't survive the White Walkers to the north and the Boltons to the south," Jon said tossing a piece down, pressing his knuckles into the edge of the table. "We'll need more men. Even if we can trust Karstark we'd barely have enough for a chance."
"Aside from the Starks and the Boltons, the most powerful houses in the North are Umbers, the Karstarks and the Manderlys." Davos brought the Umber disks to Winterfell. "The Umbers have already declared for the Boltons so we won't have much luck there."
Sansa, sat with her hands entwined, declared, "The Umbers gave Rickon to our enemies, they can hang. But the Karstarks have reached out to us and Brienne will meet with the Manderlys who will join us the moment we ask."
"I beg your pardon, my lady, but you can't know that."
Sansa sucked in her lips as she took a breath. "How well do you know the North, Ser Davos?"
"Precious little, my lady," Davos said sinking back into his seat.
"My father always said northerners are different. More Loyal," she said pointedly, "more suspicious of outsiders."
"They may well be loyal, but how many rose up against the Boltons when they betrayed your family?" Her ire cooled as her gaze shifted away from him. "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."
"There are more than three others houses in the North," Jon said pointing to the map. "Glover, Mormont, Cerwyn, Mazin, Hornwood. Two dozen more. Together, they equal all the others. We can start small and build."
"The North remembers. They remember the Stark name. People will still risk everything for it," Sansa said with a wave of her hand, "from White Harbor to Ramsay's own door."
"I don't doubt it," Davos assured. "But Jon doesn't have the Stark name."
"No, but I do," said Sansa. "Jon is every bit as much Ned Stark's son as Ramsay is a Roose Bolton's. And there's also the Vale. They're not Northern but my aunt Lysa is a Tully, she'll do anything to help family. And if she won't… Others will make sure she does."
That garnered looks from the others, curious over what she left unsaid.
"That's good," Davos said rising to look over the map. "The Vale Knights' support would mean a great deal. Stark, Arryn, a few more houses… almost starts to look like a winning side."
Pride colored Sansa's smile.
Jon stepped beside her, moving his hand along the map as he spoke. "We'll avoid Last Hearth, Karhold and Winterfell. The Mountain clans will come first on our way to the Mormonts, then Glover. Head south, try to meet with those we can and send ravens to the rest. Brienne will carry letters for the eastern houses and send them from White Harbor."
Brienne nodded, confirming her part. "I'll convince the Vale lords to send help. Lady Sansa has counciled me on how to best go about it."
Glancing to Sansa, Jon pointed to White Harbor. "We'll end at White Harbor. If they won't join us, then better to keep the sea to our backs, keep the North in front of us. If they're loyal then we'll try and wait for men from the Vale and the Neck. Then we'll ride north up the White Knife."
Sansa practically radiated her approval of his plan as she looked up at him while Davos looked the map over and nodded. "That's making a lot of assumptions."
"Half the smaller houses are in ruins," said Sansa. "I saw enough villages and farms with flayed families to know they'll want a change. The ones that don't can be kept quiet if we kill their ravens and stop any riders."
As grateful as he was to have her here, Jon hated to think of all Sansa had been forced to see on her way to him. "The North is large enough for us to put some distance between us if we need to. If we can't meet at White Harbor, we'll fall back west, meet north west of Torrhen's Square."
Looking over the map he pointed to the Neck. "If we do this, if we get even half of what we'll try, we could outnumber them. If we win, then we'll have to send forces to man Moat Cailin. Keep the southern armies out until we figure out how to convince them to help with the White Walkers."
"Could we show them one?" asked Sansa.
The room looked from her to Jon, who glanced at Edd, answering the man's raised brow and Sansa's question with a nod. "It's possible. The first wight I saw was here, in Castle Black."
"So they can survive crossing the wall?"
Edd's raised brow sank morosely when Jon arched his. With a sigh, Edd nodded. "I'll see if I can muster a few rangers to try and find one."
"Don't let them risk themselves for it," said Jon. "It can wait until we've retaken Winterfell."
Edd nodded. "I'll still send them to scout and wait for your word."
Jon was in his room preparing the last of his things when he heard a knock on the door and turned to see Sansa entering. She looked ready to leave, her hair braided for the ride and cloak draped over her dress, though she held something in her arms.
Turning from his bag he gave her a quick once over and saw she wore a dress that seemed to be made of emerald velvet, likely softer than anything he'd worn since even before he left Winterfell. Giving it a once over he noticed a gray direwolf embroidered on the chest and quickly nodded to stop himself from staring.
"New dress."
"I made it myself," she said looking down at it, brushing a hand along her stomach before smiling at him. "Do you like it?"
"Yeah, I was…" He motioned to her chest, "I like the wolf bit."
She glanced at her embroidery and felt a flicker of pride the type she hadn't felt since early in King's Landing. "Good, because… I made this for you."
When she held her arms up to present the cloak, Jon took it and saw the Stark sigil on one of the straps.
"I made it like the one father used to wear. As near as I can remember."
Jon examined it before meeting her eyes. "Thank you, Sansa."
That pride she felt grew, mixing into the warmth in her chest as she smiled. "You're welcome."
Feeling a bit embarrassed, as though he could see what she was feeling, she turned and left the room. Jon looked at the cloak and smiled, glancing at the other he'd intended to wear laying on the table.
Sansa was mounting her horse, holding back a smile as Brienne turned away from Tormund's openly admiring stare, when she noticed Jon enter the courtyard wearing her cloak. She felt the pride and warmth grow, making her squeeze the reins and look down, brushing the horse's mane with her fingers to busy herself.
Jon came to a stop near his horse, awaiting Edd as he approached. Looking round he asked with a laugh, "Don't knock it down while I'm gone."
"I'll do me best," assured Edd. The two looked to each other before exchanging a brotherly embrace, patting each other's back and shoulders. His hand on Jon's arm, Edd gave him a firm nod. "Good luck."
Jon returned the nod and went to mount his horse, leading their group from Castle Black, beginning Sansa's trek south, one that wouldn't end until she was either dead or back home in Winterfell with Jon.