Ursa Major | Tormund Giantsbane

Chapter 16

Sansa was a natural.

Already she was giving commands to build up the food storage for their troops. She had leather added to the breastplates to keep them warm. Lord Royce and the Maester of Winterfell followed her around enacting her orders, while Lord Petyr Baelish was never far behind.

Sansa insisted this was fine; she knew how to manipulate him. And she would, as needed.

She'd had to grow up too soon. Thyrsa hated it and she hoped her nieces and nephews would never have to suffer that way.

"I hate leaving her with him," said Brienne as they watched them from the yard.

"Me, too," agreed Thyrsa. "He's a cunt."

"She insists if we kill him, we lose the Knights of the Vale," said Brienne. "She's going to try and make sure Lord Royce has enough rapport to keep them here even if Lord Baelish goes."

Thyrsa snorted. "Goes to hell, I hope. I've never met anyone who has said good things about him. Only that is like a snake, he slithers to wherever is most convenient, to whatever side he thinks will win a war. How easily he moved between Cersei and everyone else when he needed to."

Brienne agreed, making a face as Littlefinger leaned a bit too close to Sansa. They were interrupted by a squire who called Sansa, saying there was someone at the gate.

Thyrsa and Brienne followed, all stunned to find a carriage with a young man, much older than the last time Thyrsa had seen him. Beside him was Meera, and surrounding them were brothers of the Night's Watch.

"Hello, Sansa," said the boy quietly.

"Bran," said Sansa weakly, rushing over to hug him. Rickon leapt up behind her, climbing onto the carriage and hugging Bran tight, the other not reacting.

"Never go away again!" said Rickon indignantly. "You said you'd come back!"

"And I did," said Bran simply. "I promise."

The three Starks went to speak alone in the godswood. Thyrsa took charge of seeing that Meera Reed was given a hot supper and a proper bath.

"You were very brave and selfless, taking such good care of him," said Thyrsa as she listened to her story. "I'm so very sorry about your brother. And Hodor... poor Hodor, my father met him once. Wanted to bring him and Old Nan up to Last Hearth so Hodor could live a more peaceful life. They wanted to stay. Gods... when I last saw you, you were all so much smaller. I should never have let you walk away from Craster's Keep alone. I should have had Jon drag you all to Castle Black."

Meera smiled thinly. "It had to happen, I suppose. Bran... he's become the Three-Eyed Raven. He sees everything that's happening, everything that's happened. He carries the knowledge, memories, and life of the world. My brother and Hodor gave their lives to bring him here but now he's not Bran anymore, he's not... warm and caring. He feels nothing. He's something else. And I... I don't know where to go from here."

"Anywhere you choose to go, we will give you all the resources you can carry," said Thyrsa. "Or if you wish to stay... you can. We can send men to bring your family here."

"I'll think about it," promised Meera. "And... don't worry. There is nothing you could have done. Jojen and Bran..." she laughed bitterly, "They had their ideas. They had to see them through. And I... I'm left to see the consequences of it."

It broke Thyrsa's heart to see her. To know the pain Meera felt and be unable to do anything about it.

She didn't want anyone else to suffer this way.

As she helped Maja and Munda bathe that night, she thought of Tormund. She wondered if they'd made it to the castles yet, if they'd started fixing them up. Did they have enough food and water? Would the Army of the Dead reach them soon? Would she actually see him again?