DAGGERS TO THE HEART Part 1 - GAME OF THRONES

Sansa VI

Patience is a virtue, or so Sansa had been raised to believe as she flopped in the chair on the left of the fireplace in her solar. She poured herself a glass of watered down cider, which they'd started making from the glut of apples from the surrounding trees. It was a palatable drink, but it gave her a heavy head if she didn't water it down. Gods she hated having the body of a girl of ten and four. She pinched her nose and sighed, they could make all of the plans in the world, but if Queenscrown had no working rookery, then they were officially out of touch with the rest of Westeros, in fact out of touch with the north. This was becoming problematic.

The original maesters chambers were down on the ground floor, but just after Jon left, Sansa had realised that there would be a problem with the placement as a war room was needed and housing a rookery inside a building was highly impractical. Therefore the builders had started to build a pitched roof on top of the keep, where the rookery and maesters chambers could be housed. A covered wooden staircase would circle around the outside of the keep, carefully placed not to block any windows. The building of the staircase and preparation of the new maester's chambers was going well, except for one small problem, they didn't have a Maester. Nor did they even have anyone qualified to tend to a temporary rookery, which meant they had to rely on Winterfell to send out multiple messages, which was exactly what would be needed for Robb's trip around the north. A maester was desperately needed, they had written to the Citadel for them to send one, but the Citadel never did anything in a hurry and even when they sent the new Maester, it would take at least three moons for him to arrive. Sansa was almost tempted to write to Jon at Castle Black and ask if she could borrow Sam, except he wasn't even trained yet. Sansa didn't need the cider for a headache, the lack of raven exchanges was giving her one.

In the meantime, her solar had become a makeshift war-room of sorts. Sansa's mother had brought the large map of the north with her, which was rolled out on the large oak table, usually used for private dining. The counters she brought were all intricately carved wooden pieces, in the shape of the house they represented, painted to complete the effect. Sansa remembered Jon telling her about the painted table on Dragonstone; despite how impressive this effort was, it was nothing compared to the one Jon had seen. Not that it mattered, this was not a battle, this was not a war, not yet. The decision was to send Robb around the north as the heir to Winterfell. Doing a northern tour and getting to know the bannermen and their own heirs always looked good on the family. Sansa's father never did it because he was never the heir to Winterfell, but she suspected Brandon must have done it. The problem they faced now was organisation of the tour. Until they got their Maester, they were sending letters to Winterfell to tell the houses to correspond with Maester Luwin as he could send out multiple ravens at the same time. It seemed so archaic, but with only having one raven at a time to work with, they had no choice.

Sansa stood at the table, waiting for the rest of her family to join her. Memories of her and Jon touring the north, trying to gain the help of the houses to retake Winterfell. Many of those houses didn't respond because they were stripped bare of armies after the red wedding massacre. Others turned them away because they were terrified of the Bolton's, the rest were through misogamy and prejudice. She smiled at the thought of the fearsome little she-bear, who would be around seven years of age, and probably terrifying the maesters already. Sansa hoped this time, the ferocious little girl would grow up to be a woman and not a corpse in the army of the dead.

Memories of touring the north led her to Jon. It had been almost two moons since he'd left Queenscrown and she missed him dearly. He wrote to her on occasion, but only to update her on how things were going at Castle Black. He'd spent most of his time training and talking with Lord Commander Mormont. Uncle Benjen hadn't gone on the ranging mission as he was to assist Jon on his, which would take at least five moons, but Jon estimated closer to ten. She knew Jon wouldn't leave to go north of the wall until the red comet appeared, which also coincided with the time Daenerys dragons hatched. It could be another year before he returned, she couldn't be sure, but soon the letter would stop completely, and then there would be no communication with Jon for the duration, not knowing whether she would be a widow or not. The thought filled her with dread. As long as he came back alive, she'd be grateful. And if he wanted her as a man would want his wife, Sansa would freely give. After they'd shared a bed for those two nights, Sansa had felt a loneliness she'd never experienced before. Mayhaps it was because he was warm and comforting, maybe it was because she felt safer with him in the bed. Sansa couldn't be certain. Either way, she wanted him back as soon as possible.