Seven Dreams One Kingdom

4-Jon

Jon returned to the Lord Commander's solar with Ser Davos, Edd, Tormund, Brienne and Pod. Waiting for him, Sansa had laid out a map of Westeros on his desk, along with a number of scrolls which he suspected would need signing by him. Jon had left her alone for quite a while, he'd needed the fresh air to clear his mind from the horrors of what had befallen his sister no cousin, he had to keep reminding himself. He liked that Sansa was being open and honest with him, they must have had a close relationship in the life Sansa had experienced, yet he wished she hadn't told him. He was disgusted with this revelation, not with Sansa, she was innocent in all of this mess, but with the man who'd inflicted such torture on her. To make matters worse, Jon suspected this was just the tip of the iceberg and that there was more to come. It was that thought which made him want to pummel Ramsey into the ground, only to have Melisandre resurrect him, so that he could kill him again. As much as he was against torture, flaying the Bolton bastard seemed like too good a punishment for the twisted psychopath. Instead, Jon had picked up a sparring sword and began to strike the pell hard, not that he needed the practice, but it usually helped him when he was upset or tense. However, this time it didn't, he just grew more and more angry. He lost track of time, repeatedly hitting the dummy with all of his might, building up a sweat, despite the cold.

"What did the poor fucker do this time?" Tormund laughed and Jon stopped to look at his wildling friend, Tormund's laughter died. "You seem upset King Crow."

Jon bent over and put his hands on his thighs to help him regain his breath. "Your heard the letter which Ramsey sent."

"Aye." Tormund nodded.

"Sansa gave me some details of her time with him." bile rose in his throat once more, fortunately Tormund seemed to understand.

"It sounds like you kneelers are more savage than us Freefolk."

Jon stood back up and shook his head. "I don't know how I can help her." he felt defeated.

Tormund slapped him on the back. "You listened to her. Now go kill the fucker." he shrugged.

"That simple?" Jon asked.

"Well, of course you need to get to him first." Tormund shrugged.

"How many do you have?" Jon hated to ask his friend, but according to Sansa's parchments, the Freefolk had fought at what had been dubbed the Battle of the Bastards.

Tormund thought for a moment as they made their way to the dining hall. "That can march and fight? Two thousand. The rest are children and old people."

"Will you help me? I know it's not your fight." Jon asked. "But we need Winterfell for the long night."

"I will." Tormund nodded. "I can ask the Freefolk elders. The little fucker threatened them too. Will it be enough men?"

"Sansa is working on the rest." Jon told his. "I need to speak to Ser Davos and Edd. You can come too." Tormund nodded and followed.

A few minutes later, Jon, Sansa, Edd, Ser Davos, Tormund, Brienne and Podrick were stood on Jon's solar, around his desk examining a map with a list of parchments. Although he had resigned his post as Lord Commander, Jon had still been placed in charge, with Sansa by his side of what could be considered a war counsel. When he'd returned to find her, gone had the distraught girl, in her place was the woman who had become Queen in the North, as if she'd simply donned a mask. Of course, Jon was the only one who knew the truth, however judging the expressions on the faces of the rest of room, the change in her clearly hadn't escaped anyone else's notice. The moment she spoke, she was a woman who commanded authority, and was used to it.

"We've gathered you here to discuss the future of the north." Jon told them. "First of all, I'll let Lady Sansa speak. She has some vital knowledge which will help us in battle."