The narrow, dark hallway seemed without an ending. A playful reflection of fire over the long, coarse walls being the only guide in the darkness. As she walked, the Queen’s dress would soak in the puddles of melted snow. When she reached the last cell, chains rumbled as they moved, joining the sound of melting ice drops, ceasing the dead silence. A pale face followed by two hands that wrapped around the bars, emerged from the darkness. “Seems your friend has kept his word… Release them.” spoke the Queen, her voice echoing through the hall. The two large northmen obeyed and the three wildling prisoners were guided out of the tunnel. When they neared the light at the end, the girl’s eyes watered adjusting to the whiteness. Were they in the darkness for too long or was she crying for freedom and the boy waiting for her outside? Sansa wondered.
The light-brown locks of the boy’s hair had grown and for a heartbeat, Sansa thought Ser Loras was standing right in front of her. Next to him stood the red bearded giant she knew. Her brother’s friend… and leader of the Free Folk. He wore his usual wildling furs and was holding a horn shaped cup in his hand. The only time she had seen Tormund without a drink in his hand was when the cup was replaced by a sword during the Long Night.
She turned to the young man “You kept your word, so I am keeping mine. You are free to go.” she gestured to the guards and they pushed the wildlings forward. When the gate of Winterfell closed behind them, she faced her guest. “Welcome, I am pleased you decided to join me for supper. We have much to discuss.”
“Aye, Sansa Stark, that we do.” agreed the guest.
When the candles on the round, hanging chandeliers were lit, indicating the night and end of the generous supper, the long meeting room emptied. Accompanied by two of her advisors and four of her guards, the Queen sat at the wooden chair carved with the wolf’s head of House Stark. She liked sitting in the middle of the long table, it gave her the confidence of a Queen. The last to sit in the middle of that table was Daenerys Targaryen. A Queen.
Opposite of her sat Tormund, chugging milk as other men chugged ale. What a strange man, she thought, still deciding whether that was a good or a bad thing. “You know why you are here, I take it” the Queen smiled politely.
“Where is the tall, blonde, beautiful woman? Have you seen her?” the red bearded man asked without any hesitation.
Sansa was taken aback, narrowing her eyebrows. “Brienne? That is not why you are here.” she noticed the disappointment in his eyes “... She is in King’s Landing, she is the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard now.” Perhaps this man had other interests beside war. Perhaps he is someone she could win over or reason with.
He nodded wistfully and spread his arms “So... why am I here then?”
“You are here to accept my truce and tell your people to let this pursuit of lands south of the Wall rest.”
The giant took another big sip of his milk. There was tiredness in his voice when he spoke “Listen kid, we do not wish for war any more than you do. We only wish for the lands that were promised to us, lands where our children won’t have to freeze in the cold, lands with enough food, you know, animals prefer the warmth too.”
Perhaps not. The Queen realized this won’t go as smoothly as she had hoped. “Those lands belong to my people, they have worked their whole lives cultivating them, lived there for generations, they would never agree to leave them so that you... wildlings can live their lives. Bend the knee and become part of the north and you shall be free to share the lands and live with my people as northmen.”
“My people are not kneelers, I am not their King and you are not their Queen, so if they think war is the only way to get what they want, I am not the one to stop them....” he stared at the girl who looked nothing like her brother “I agreed to meet you today only because I consider Jon Snow a dear friend, however, you have slaughtered enough of my men already… We are not afraid to go to war, kid. Your army was cut to half during the Long Night, we have the numbers to win. Do what your brother would have done.” he spoke ceasing any trace of friendliness in his voice.
Kid. Sansa felt defeated. It was true. She does not have the numbers to win. Not without the help of King’s Landing. She also cannot give the wildlings what they want. Her northmen would never accept her as their Queen if she did, and Jon Snow was already preferred amongst them. Even her advisors could not agree on a way out of this mess. She felt trapped, suffocated. They leave me no choice. Suddenly, the smell of the burning candles became unbearable.
The red bearded man stood up, chugging the last of his milk. “Alright, think about what was said and make the right decision.” He lifted his hand unfolding three of his fingers and slouched over the table. “Three days.” Lost for words, the Queen watched the wildling walk away, clutching the handles of her chair. No. It’s a mistake. But her emotions overpowered reason and before she knew, the words were out.
“Seize him.”
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