Northern Conqueror

Chapter 46: The Dragon Has Three Heads

Chapter 46: The Dragon Has Three Heads

Watching Jon and Daenerys leave, Sansa couldn't help but feel a bit indignant, wanting to mount a horse and go riding with them despite knowing she would only be a hindrance. She might have been a bit better than Daenerys in the training yard, but she couldn't mount Balerion the Dread reborn. All she had was Ghost, her fireguard, and Lady's Tear on her waist.

While most of her fireguard retained their positions, the only new addition was Meera Reed, who got on well with the spearwives, even wearing similar armor. Sansa also relished the chance to get closer to someone who clearly cared for her brother.

It was Meera who told her, "They should be fine, especially with dragons."

Making her way back toward the center of camp they found their remaining advisers gathered around a fire with a few of the lords, including Arianne Martell.

"I'm surprised you didn't at least stay in Winterfell, Princess," Tyrion said looking to the dornish woman wrapped in furs. An odd sight, odder even than Tyrion in his armor with a dragonglass battle axe on his lap.

"I thought it best for morale," she said with a smirk. "Besides, if our king leads from the front what would it say if his wardens couldn't even march with him?"

"That's assuming we keep the old wardens," Sansa said teasingly.

Arianne smiled at her. "I'm certain I could convince his grace and his queens of my usefulness."

Sansa shook her head as the others were a mix of chuckles and curious interest. She noticed Melisandre staring into the flames and leaned forward slightly. "Lady Melisandre. Does the Lord of Light speak to you even now?"

Melisandre looked to her and smiled at the genuine interest in her queen's voice. "He always speaks to those willing to hear."

"What do you see in the flames?" asked Tyrion, arching his brow skeptically.

Melisandre turned to the fire and took a breath. "Skulls. Ice and dark water. Ice and fire. A sword of flame taking the night to quench itself and bring the dawn."

She blinked and went quiet for a moment, sitting up to show that was all.

"Let us hope your interpretation true," Davos said grimly.

Melisandre looked to him with a frown, nodding.

A distant screech made Sansa stand up and look to the north, followed by the others who saw a hint of light peeking over the trees from the torrent of flames that scorched the kingsroad.

It was only moments later they heard the first yells coming from the northeastern side of camp, near The Last River. Sansa gripped the hilt of Lady's Tear as Ghost began to growl and she moved toward the yells to find their source.

She'd barely made it past the fire when she heard men calling out, "Wights in the river!"

Through the rushing waters which tore at their rotted flesh, hundreds of skeletal figures rose and made their way toward the camp. Their number continued to grow as more came from the river, pulling themselves ashore and moving to circle around the camp before making their way in, tearing at tents and clashing with soldiers wielding dragonglass.

Sansa looked back to where Tyrion put on his helmet and picked up his axe while Davos drew his dragonglass short sword, causing the others to take up arms. "Princess Arianne, Lady Missandei, Lady Melisandre, stay with me and my fireguard."

"Thank you, your grace," Missandei said with a nod as Sansa walked to her side near the fire.

With a breath Sansa drew Lady's Tear and reached over to place a hand on Ghost's head while the others spread out. The yells, grunts and clang of dragonglass and steel grew louder every moment until they saw the first wights running toward them.