The Red Snow Crown

Chapter 1

T'was the winter of her life or so it had been for many seasons. She was used to the glitter of snow and the rot of wood. Death and glistening white, the color of weddings and chilling temperature. Her horse whinnied smoke, her own breath crystallizing before her as they trotted into wildling territory. The dead had stayed dead after the Great War but she still felt a thrill of fear at every broken twig and gust of wind. Her. Sansa. Queen of the north, survivor of cruel rulers, daughter of a just man and strong woman.

She scanned the landscape with her retinue of soldiers, their horses feet a rhythm with the wind. Brienne of Tarth rode proudly next to her, her armor gleaming and her sword arrogantly showcased. Sansa gave her a slight smile of acceptance as they rode further into the woods.

Her life as Queen had progressed as she knew it would with a time of peace for her people. The fear of the dead erased but the trauma still lingered. They lost many but gained much, their independence and their security. Sansa fostered it with celebrations, reminding them of their victory and she honored their fallen with stories and marked graves. She met with each family and offered her feminine grace for comfort and her sharp eyes for reminder that she would do what she had to to protect her kingdom.

Twas the reason for her journey into wildling territory, to pay homage to her bastard brother that died while scouting wild animals. A bear some claim. A dragon seeking revenge, others whisper.

He is where he's supposed to be.

Her brother Bran had written, a raven delivering it personally. She closed her eyes for a minute, the heartache spilling through before she hardened it like ice in her veins. She had learned early on to hide her feelings when it came to Jon Snow. She had also twisted them until she forgot the true nature of them.

Abruptly they stopped as a figure clothed in fur halted her soldiers. Brienne ventured forward at a confident trot, her shoulders pulled back and her chin high. Sansa watched as the lone figure pulled back the hood on his cloak and smiled, Brienne jerking the reins of her horse to a stop.

"Yuh only had to write and I would've come there to wed ye. Two hands and all" Tormund spoke with a sly smile and an icy glaze, his expression a mixture of punishment and yearning. Sansa studied Brienne as she continued forward until Tormund's head was level with her knee. She dipped her chin and looked down upon him, her own expression hard as Valyrian steel.

"My Queen wishes an audience with you."

Tormund glanced at Sansa, his chest pushed forward defensively.

"You've no status here my lady."

"I've come to discuss Jon." Sansa said, a tone she found that even men could pay attention to.

"We gave him a proper wildling pyre, his ashes spread far and wide."

Sansa read the way his eyes never left hers, his face changing to expressionless. It was a reasonable explanation. Wildlings has always burned the bodies of their dead in large ornate pyres so the Knight King had nothing left to control. Sansa climbed down off her horse and walked towards him, gathering her strength with each step. It was a game they both needed to play now amongst the eyes of their subjects.

"I am forever in your debt for your protection of my kingdom and your respectful treatment of my brother. I only ask to speak privately to you so I may hear of his last days. There are rumors that you were with him when he passed."

"I was." Tormund replied his crisp blue eyes seeking something from her. She nodded in confirmation and he seemed to let out a sigh of relief.

"I shall tell you all about him but first we must eat and drink in his honor before we can summon his spirit."