The North was suffering. After the war she had sent to repairing her kingdom it was late in the winter when she had decided to visit the remaining lords, the Karstarks first among them as they were the only house left in the north. The journey was easy if long, she took only her Maester and twenty guardsmen with her. She had grown used to the frugality of life after the Long Night and their ride towards the Karhold meant little else other than less meat. Their castle was small and humble, befitting their cadet bearing. Situated on a large hill, next to a river. There was only one way up and that was the Bastards step, wooden stairs that could easily be broken in case of a siege. It had not been hit hard by the White Walkers thanks to this, but even then, the bodies of the dead polluted the river, such scenes were common as the detritus of the Night King littered the North and would take years to clean.
Arthor Karstark was the only lord in the Karhold with his wife long dead and his children at Winterfell. He was a sad old man, gaunt, sickly and faded, he had fought at the Battle of Ice and Fire and watched his niece, his nephews, his brother, his father and his sons all die. He and his brother had sent their grandchildren to be with the Reeds at Greywater Watch, but the Crannogs treated them unkindly as the Swamp’s poison infected most of the Karstark host there and now all that remained of his family was Arthors 3-year-old grandson named Brandon.
The lord Karstark sat nearly alone in his hall, there were only three chairs at his table, one for his Maester sitting to the right of him and one for Sansa at the opposite side of him. The dinner was frugal, as it was wont to be these days. Goatmilk, a fine goat haunch and some Arbor wine, the only thing that distinguished the feast from a smallfolk dinner. This, Sansa knew, was not a slight as the lands of the Karhold were devastated by the White Walkers and the smallfolk that were sheltered here had eaten through most of the stockpile during the Long Night.
They ate in silence which bothered Sansa as she wanted to know what alms the Karhold needed. After the goat haunch was eaten and the wine was drunk, Lord Karstark managed to become even more decrepit. The young Maester next to him looked happy.
“So, how are things this far north, Winterfell wants to thank you for your hard service in defence of the realm and wonders what reward would be most fitting” ventured Sansa, the first thing said at this dinner. The Maester smiled sadly “I’m sorry your grace but he doesn’t talk much these days. He has endured much and needs time to rest. But if you seek t-“ the Maester was cut off as Lord Karstark cried out like a wounded deer.
“Why! why are my brothers dead, why is my niece gone, why did the daemons attack us, I prayed to the old gods and made sure my sons did the same so why are they gone and why am I still here.” The lord fell, and convulsed and begged on the ground for the gods to answer him why.
“Why? Because the North has always been the shield of civilization. It has always been the duty of Northerners to give everything to see another day, and now we have won! We will never again have to fear the dark.” These words seemed to calm him a bit, the old man rose back to his chair and slumped on the table. She went over to him to console him.
As she reached him, he shot up, his face a red mess. He was blinded by tears “AND WHAT HAVE YOU LOST, YOU DID NOT SEE YOUR SON CRUMPLE INTO THE GROUND AS A THOUSAND DEAD MEN TRAMPELED OVER HIS BODY, YOU DID NOT SEE THE BODY OF YOUR NIECE AMONG THE RUINS, YOU DID NOT GIVE YOUR GRANDSONS AWAY TO DIE A POINTLESS DEATH, YOU! LOST! NOTHING!” with his outburst over he crumpled into the ground again. The Young Maester begged forgiveness.
She left with less than she had hoped for, the Maester assured her that they needed only a bit more food, she handed her a ledger to be given to her Maester and so she continued on with the journey. Next was White Harbour and the Manderlyes. White Harbour was the largest port in the North, but when they came there only the meagre navy of the north was there along with some small fishing boats next to them. During the feast that Lord Wylis Manderly held (cod fried in oil along with some White Harbour ale) she asked him why the ports were so sparse and Wylis answered quite clearly that he didn’t know. The Manderlys had no true problem and Wylis asked only for some gold to pay the docks men to fix the ships that had been damaged by recent pirate raids.
Howland Reed had less to say, but gave her a letter from her late father, adding that she likely knew what it said. Sansa waited till night, she hadn’t thought of her father in a long time, there was little left of him in the world and this was likely to be the last she could ever hear his cold compassionate tone again.

Jon Snow

Your name is a lie, as much as it must have pained you. Your true name is Aegon Targaryen, you were born between the love of my Sister and Rhaegar Targaryen. Lyanna always went her own way, I do not know why she choose to elope with Rhaegar but I do know that she wouldn’t have wanted you to be hurt.
Lyanna was always brave, honest and kind. I hope you become the kind of man she would be proud of.

She knew she would be disappointed but it still stung.
Lady Barbrey Dustin was cold to her approach but she never went as far as the lord Karstark, instead choosing minor errors like forgetting to say your majesty when addressing her or having a half cooked lamb for dinner. It was spite but not malice, so her offer went even to her and she said that they needed food and clean water, this being the only conversation where she showed some restraint.
Returning to Winterfell felt like a soak in the hot springs. The North had suffered but she hadn’t realized how much. As broken as Winterfell was, it was still alive unlike a lot of the emptiness of her realm.
A raven was sent to King Bran asking for aid, not freely given of course she was willing to pay. It was a quiet day in late spring when he finally answered.

Queen in the North Sansa Stark

No.

King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men Bran the Broken, ruler of the Six Kingdoms.