How long it had taken him, he was not sure of, but it had been a couple of Moons at least. Being alone and on foot did not make the journey any easier or quicker, and he dared not ask for help along the way. It had been his own people that had betrayed him at what the peasants called the Red Wedding, and he knew not how many others would turn their knives and crossbows on him when he would make it known who he was.
It did no longer matter how long it had taken him though, for the walls of Winterfell, of his home, loomed ahead. He was almost there. He was so close he could hear the noises of the people within. Which was a good thing, because he was unsure how much energy he had left, he was barely upright anymore and the fever that had taken him days before had not yet subsided. But it matter not, he was back where his family was. He would be fine.
Arriving at the gates, he was stopped by the guards, and not allowed in. They laughed when he told them who he was, and he sank to his knees in desperation. Almost there, and not allowed to continue. “Please,” he begged them. “Lady Sansa, Lady Arya, Jon Snow, Lord Bran, Lord Rickon any of them. Please tell them someone is at the gate.” He could not turn around, could not head back to the village, he just did not have the strength anymore. So he sat there, in the mud, so close he could touch the outer walls, but not allowed in.
“Surely this could wait until morning?” Sansa mutters, slipping a thick fur cloak over her night dress. Snow was falling lightly as she made her way through the courtyard after the guard. Who on earth could need in at this hour? Most of the towns people had been accommodated days ago and the gate was open all day - not that anyone but the soldiers left now - surely everyone was in.
“Well?” Sansa says, peering down from the keep ramparts at the man in the mud. “What happened? Are you a soldier?” The man looked vaguely familiar but she couldn’t say from where. Mayhap’s Jon would know, though she was loathe to wake up, he hardly slept these days and if he wasn’t asleep he would be here already. But the man wasn’t wearing Black, or if he was the mud covered it so well that it looked nondescript and more of a faded brown. “Are you one of Jon’s men?”
She supposed she’d have to wake someone if he claimed to be one of Jon’s men, but she wouldn’t allow him in without verifying he belonged here. Doing so was far too dangerous, especially in times like these. It had been proven that even one man could bring the downfall of a house these days. “Speak up Ser and tell me who you are.”
