Chapter Text
The boat ride to Bear Island had been easier than the return trip. The waves rocked the small skiff that carried Sansa, her brother Jon Snow, Lord Davos, Lady Mormont and Jon's direwolf Ghost. It would take all morning for them and the 62 Mormont men to cross the bay. Frigid water splashed over the sides. Jon had forced Sansa to sit in the middle in a failed attempt to keep her dry.
From there they would make their way to Deepwood Motte to petition the Glovers for support of their cause. Sansa prayed it would be easier than convincing little fierce Lyanna Mormont to join them. Somehow she did not think it would. After the hard crossing, they marched inland barely a league just enough to be sheltered from the sea by the trees before Jon decided they should make camp for the night.
A smaller group would go to Deepwood Motte, while the majority of the Mormont fighters would make for the wildling camp. The smaller group would make faster time and most likely rejoin the larger one before they reached the wildlings.
They were able to raise the tents quickly and light the cook fires. Despite the cold, a cold almost as fierce as it had been at Castle Black, Sansa found this part of the North beautiful. Bear Island had been filled with trees and icy waterfalls. The tall pine trees dotted the island and the coastline. Even the snowdrifts gave a peaceful quality to the landscape.
Sansa saw Jon with Ghost approaching her as she watched birds fly from the trees at the sound of tents being raised.
"Look," she pointed and grabbed his arm. "A snowy owl. It was watching me just before you scared it away."
"Aye, didn't mean to scare your friend off," he said with a smile. Jon rarely smiled she thought only when we are alone. He had not smiled much when they were children. Now he smiled even less. With his men, he is stern, like her Lord Father but with her he was different. He is kind to me, always kind and gentle.
"It's so beautiful, the North. One day when the fighting is over we will come back here. To visit the people, the land. Think how pretty it will be in early spring," she told him. And they will love us.
"Aye, we will," he agreed. "The tents are almost ready if you'd like to rest. We will take the smaller tents and fewer supplies to Deepwood Motte. This may be your last chance to have a little comfort until we return to the wildling camp."
"Oh thank you, Jon," Sansa replied. "I think I will walk for a bit. It's not as cold as the Wall and it's so beautiful."
She noticed the look of concern in Jon's eyes, "Ok, stay within the camp circle. We still don't know how friendly the Glovers will be," he warned.
"Of course," she answered watching him walk back towards the main tents. So much like her Lord Father yet a completely different man. Jon was lean and graceful where her father was broad and muscular. There was something darker, sadder in him, too. Some days when she looked into his gray eyes, she thought she was seeing her own sadness.
Beginning to walk amongst the trees, she searched for the owl she had seen earlier. It must be near. Such a pretty white thing. Drifts had been blown up against the trees leaving natural paths that made for easy movement. As she was walking, she slipped on a patch of ice and fell.
"My Lady," said a voice. Sansa felt someone shaking her arm. "My Lady, are you ok. Wake up." the voice said again. Sansa gradually opened her eyes to see Lord Davos staring down at her.
"Oh, I must have fallen," she said slowly pulling herself up.
"Are you alright, my lady?" Lord Davos asked her. "Did you hit your head?"
"I don't think so," she answered slightly confused. "It feels fine." Davos had a curious look on his face.
"It took a moment to rouse you, my lady," he said. "Are you sure."
"I'm sure, Lord Davos," Sansa said. Davos was a kind man. He just wanted to be helpful. "Please, would you escort me back to the main tents?"
"Of course, my lady." he responded.
Sansa and Jon shared the large Lord's tent. It had been divided down the middle to make two rooms. One for her and one for him. That night they shared a meal of bread and stew with their men in one of the larger tents. Despite the cold, some of the Mormont host even sang bawdy songs that made Sansa laugh. It had been so long since she had even dared laugh. She even talked with the young Lady Lyanna Mormont who seemed to prefer Lord Davos' company. I will win her over, Sansa thought.
The nights had been hard on Sansa. She felt open and exposed still hunted by Ramsey's dogs. Jon had posted guards. Even though she was exhausted, she stayed in the dining tent for as long as possible. Until everyone else had gone except for her and her half-brother.
"Sansa, you should get some rest," Jon told her. "Tomorrow will be a hard ride."
"Yes," she said. "I know." Getting up she let Jon walk with her back to the large Lord's tent. It had been divided down the center by a thick canvas to make two rooms each with its own entrance. One side for Sansa and the other for Jon. Inside there was a sleeping pallet piled with furs. The sparse room was lit by a candle on an overturned crate. Sansa slowly removed her cloak and boots, followed by her black velvet and silk gown. Clad only in a wool slip and stockings she crawled underneath the heavy furs. The furs were warmer than she expected. She slipped out of her wool stockings, tossing them on the floor. Finally, she succumbed to a restless sleep.
The light gray wolf looked up at her father staring at the knife in his hand. As the wolf stared at the face it began to appear younger, the man's frame to narrow until she was no longer looking at her father but her brother. Sansa woke just before the knife came down. Her breath heavy and her heart racing. I'm a Stark. I'm brave. Jon wasn't trying to hurt me. He was trying to stop the knife, she tried to convince herself. Looking over at the heavy canvas divider she noticed that a candle was still lit on Jon's side of the tent.
"Jon," she called out softly. At first, he didn't answer.
"Jon," she said more firmly and sitting up in her bed. After a moment she heard the sound of him getting up from his pallet to walk toward the divider.
"Yes," he answered softly. "Are you ok?"
"I..I had a.." she started the say. He will think you are a silly girl. Afraid of dreams. "Could you come for a moment."
Sansa heard him sigh as he walked outside the tent and around to the entrance to her side. I've annoyed him. She thought but when he entered holding a candle with Ghost at his feet she saw his concerned kind face.
"Sansa, are you alright," he asked again.
"It's just sometimes...out in the open like this..." she couldn't finish. He nodded and seemed to understand.
"I can stay for a bit," he said placing the candle on the overturned crate, looking around for a bench or chair. They had traveled lightly and had only a few hard benches scattered throughout the camp none of which happened to be on Sansa's side of the tent. Finding nothing to sit on Jon started to sit on the hard ground.
"No don't do that," Sansa said. "Come, there is room next to me." She moved over on the pallet to make room for him. Jon stared at her tentatively as if unsure of what to do. Finally, he decided to sit on the edge of the pallet where she had made space for him. Ghost curled up at the foot of the pallet.
Looking at her, "I'm not very good at bedtime stories," he said.
She smiled to herself, "That's ok. Tell me about north of the wall."
"It's cold," he said then laughing added, "And sometimes it's beautiful, it goes on forever." He told of his first morning North of the Wall when he woke up and everything was covered in ice. The world looked as if it was made of glass.
"It must have been magical." she said.
"It was," he agreed.
"I'm cold," she said. "Come under the furs. It'll be warmer." I'm not really so cold just please don't leave me. If you are here I won't dream again.
He hesitated but gave in to her wishes once she lifted the furs. The pallet was so small they could both barely fit. Jon had to wrap his arms around Sansa. She thought he seemed surprised to notice that she was only wearing her wool slip.
"Thank you," Sansa said. "I dreamt...it was so sad. It was Lady. When Father killed her." She had told him at Castle Black what happened to Lady. Of all the tragedies they had discussed, every sad tale she had told him that had made him the saddest. True many made him angry and she had spared him the worst of what had happened to her. But the story of how Cersei had forced her Father to kill the direwolf was the one that brought tears to his eyes.
"I know," he responded.
"Do you?" she asked. "Do you dream of Ghost?"
"Sometimes," he said. Ghost's ears perked at the sound of his name before curling into an even tighter ball.
Sansa started to fall asleep again under the furs with Jon's arms wrapped around her. The last thing she remembered was a soft kiss on the top of her head while Jon's hand gently touched her hair.