Roshambo / Tormund Giantsbane

11, Easily Broken

"Your father and brothers are gone, yet here you stand King in the North. Last best hope against the coming storm." Petyr remarked, Salem peered in at them. Jon finally turned to Petyr.

"You don't belong down here." Jon remarked calmly. The starks crypts were a sacred place.

"Forgive me. We have never talked properly. I wanted to remedy that." Petyr offered kindly.

"I have nothing to say to you." Jon corrected

"You have many enemies, My King, but I swear to you I'm not one of them. I love Salem as I loved her mother." Petyr declared but Jon grabbed Petyr by the throat and pushed him against the wall. Petyr gasped out choking for breath scratching at Jon's hand to release him. A smile curved Salems face. She loved seeing this side of Jon, the fire in him. 

"Touch my sister and I'll kill you myself." Jon declared before letting him go. He noticed Salems smile at the door. Jon pulled her into a hug leading her away.

"Be careful Salem." 

"I would but what fun is that?" Salem countered. "It's you I'm worried about."

"Stay away from Baelish." Jon requested. 

"He's a little bird, he's easily broken." Salem assured nonchalantly. 

+

Men were working in the courtyard rolling carts of hay and carrying water. A blacksmith was working the forge things were getting back to normal it seemed. Salem, Yohn Royce and Maester wolkan were standing on the upper level of the courtyard having a discussion on winterfells future. Salem yawned running a hand over her stomach, it was growing more and more, she wished Jon would be here for the birth, but she knew that was unlikely now. 

"How much do we have?" Salem questioned her gaze shifted to Tormund and his girls in the courtyard with Rickon. A smile tugged at her lips but she shook her head trying not to focus on him. 

"4,000 bushels, My queen."

"Not enough." Salem hissed. 

"For the current occupants of the castle it's enough food for a year, perhaps more." Yohn offered.

"Our current occupants are not enough for the battle therefore if we get more- when we get more fighters it will really not be enough." Salem countered. 

"What's the longest winter in the past 100 years?" Salem questioned as they walked. Petyr had grown fond of Salem a long time ago, her leadership, her take charge attitude, he wished she would forgive him for letting her go before, because he wanted her back. Tormund caught Petyrs stare and grit his teeth marching up the steps. 

"I'm not entirely certain. I'll check Maester Llewyn's records. He kept a copy of every raven scroll." Wolkan offered hesitantly.

" You're telling me- by not telling me- that we don't have enough food, especially not if the armies of the north come back to defend Winterfell." Salem corrected him. 

"No, My queen, most likely not." Wolkan agreed

"Fix that answer." Salem suggested. Her father was the smartest person she had ever met but he had a soft heart. To survive this world you needed claws and teeth. She needed to be a wolf. SHe was a wolf damnit. Ghost howled out and Rickon cupped his hands around his mouth, howling with him. Rickon had it right. Winterfell would be the norths pack, their home base. 

"We must prepare for that eventuality. Every direction the threat comes from, this is the best place to be. We need to start building up our grain stores with regular shipments from every keep in the north. If we don't use it by winter's end we'll give it back to them, but if the entire north has to flee to Winterfell there won't be enough time to bring wagonloads of grain with them." Salem decided. 

"Very wise, My queen." Yohn agreed. She loved that. My queen, she could listen to it endlessly. 

"Maester Wolkan, see its done." Salem commanded. "Are they covering those breastplates in leather?" Salem questioned seeing a smith hammering out a breast plate. She squinted down through the bright sun beaming off the snow. 

"No, My queen." Yohn remarked as she peered down.

"Fix that." Salem demanded as she walked off. "When real cold comes we are going to fucked otherwise."

"Indeed. Pardon me, My queen." Yohn agreed as he stepped over to the blacksmith. "You there, why isn't there leather on these?"

"I dont like the way Littlefinger looks at you." Tormund remarked. 

"Hmm, maybe I like him looking at me." Salem countered. 

"Thats a lie." Tormund countered. 

"Is it?" Salem questioned locking eyes with him. 

"If you wanted him he would be yours, you dont want him which is why he follows you around like a puppy." Tormund agreed. 

"Well you would know all about that." Salem agreed. 

"My queen!  At the gate."

Sansa turned to the commotion at the gate, people gathered around blocking her view, Salem pushed forward until she saw Bran being pushed in on a cart. She stared back at him wordlessly.

"Bran."