Chapter Text
Sansa's hand shook as she reached for the footboard of her parent's bed. She never ventured in here while it was under Bolton rule, a strange line she could not bring herself to cross. If she didn't see it then her parents might still be just beyond that door. Even now it looked the same untouched by fire and battle. So much had changed, yet there were remnants like ghosts lingering throughout Winterfell.
If she listened hard enough she could almost hear the echo of her brother's laughter echoing through the halls. Faint, as if to remind as if it happened to someone else. A second before reaching the bed post she pulled back her hand into a fist. Closing her eyes she can see a younger version of herself reaching up to pull herself onto the furs as the wind howled outside. Her father's deep chuckle as he realized another child was joining their pile, drifting off to sleep warm and comforted by the whispers passed between her parents as a storm raged on.
"Sansa." Her eyes open to see Jon lingering in the doorway. He was an unfamiliar sight in this room, never having wandered in when the nights grew cold and unwelcoming, Catelyn's stern mouth colder than any night he would face along, a strong deterrence to keep him from even trying. Sansa grieved the mother she knew, fingers raking through her long her and placating smile as Sansa dreamed aloud. She also grieved the flaws she was now old enough to see for what they were. "Will you be staying in here?"
Sansa let her fingers trail down the post. Though she is home she is still unsure of where she belongs. "I-" her voice falters. Where would she stay? The childhood room where she dreamed of princes and rose crowns? The room where she truly became a wife, sheets stained with her maidenhood and open wounds that left her scarred? Yet still her jaw clenched at the thought of it, laying in the rightful place of her parents. Lord and Lady of Winterfell, they rarely spent a night apart. Sansa's eyes trailed up the bed posts resting on the direwolves carved at the top.
"Yes, I'll stay here." She paused. "Unless you would wish too."
Jon's eyes stayed dark, "No. You are the Lady of Winterfell now. These are your chambers."
Sansa takes a step back breaking their held gaze. For weeks she had been trying to read him, trying to learn how to tailor herself to best anticipate his needs. Too many times she had let her own wants burst out challenging him to help her take back Winterfell, challenging his own methods of fighting for their home. Even now she didn’t know if his words were tinged with bitterness. Jon's eyes follow her, holding too much for her to decipher. Truthfully she doesn't know him, what she does know are distant childhood memories of a boy who was never close to her.
Yet seeing him after so long was pure relief. Weeks on the road had broken her down to one pure want, get to Jon. The spectre of Ramsey chasing her the whole way, lurking in the shadows. The journey was brutal. Days of riding horseback had given her sores in places she could only bring herself to check in the dead of night. Still healing from Ramsey she bit the inside of her cheeks bloody trying to keep whimpers from escaping as they rode. As far as possible, as fast as possible. The mantra echoed in her head to keep going.
Sansa didn't know Podrick and Brienne and they had long settled into a routine that she knew was not a party to, taking off armor and sharpening swords as they talked between them. They deferred to her as a lady putting them on unequal footing even with Brienne being of better breeding than most. They bowed their heads to her and turned to each other for company. They fought to get to her and now she was valuable cargo, held separate and above them. Sansa didn’t blame them for it yet still Sansa was lonely, it had been so long since someone had smiled at her and meant it. Since someone had seen beyond her title and her birthrights.
Sansa was never the likeable one growing up among her siblings. She was the dutiful one who attended all of her lessons in the hopes of being a proper lady of a great house one day. Her siblings fought dragons with wooden swords while she wove flower crowns. Both play acting stories yet she was the flighty, silly one. Sansa got a tight approving smile from her septa while Ned hid chuckles at the antics of her siblings. Dutiful and poised she was never the one to be pulled into the play wars. It took years for her to understand the aching loss she felt looking back at it. She was a stupid girl whose dreams came true in the worst possible ways.
Sansa was not that child anymore. That girl was beaten, sold, and raped. No, Sansa was only a mirror. Whatever you wanted reflected back at you, never seeing anything deeper than the surface. Anything to survive another week, another day, the next hour.
Jon is honorable in a way that reminds her of their father, steadfast and grounded in a way she fears she never would be. A weirwood tree rooted to the Earth as she bends and breaks in the wind. Sansa had heard the whispered conversations of his time beyond the wall, laying with a wildling woman who was as beautiful as she was fierce, parlaying with kings, fighting creatures from old stories with his direwolf at his side, and being raised from the dead to hang the traitors who had struck him down.
Seeing him standing alone facing down an army with her dead brother lying behind him would haunt her for decades to come. Yet he remained silent, keeping his honors and failures close to his chest. Sansa remained quiet about her own past, comparisons would leave her far diminished she knew. He talked with kings while she was beaten by them. Jon found love in a wildling's arms while she bled in her second marriage bed. He became a Lord Commander while she became a bastard. The differences between them were stark.
"I'm sorry, you know." Sansa said. "About not telling you about the Knights of the Vale, more people might have lived if not for me, if we had held off. I was ashamed, of Petyr and the hold he has on me."
"You should have told me...but I should have listened to you. I rushed in because he knew how to play me. But Sansa, we have to trust each other."
"I do trust you, more than anyone." She insists. "You are the most honorable man I know."
Jon's gaze fell from hers as he sighed. "I'm not, Sansa. If father was here-"
"I loved father. He couldn't protect me though. Father tried to be honourable and smarter than those around him. I saw him lose his head for it. Robb lost his head for it. I love them and I miss them but we have to be smarter than them."
Anger flared in his eyes as he met hers, "They were good men."
"The best." Sansa agreed, knowing talking about them in such a way was hard. "And I would trade my life for theirs in a second, anything to make them more than a memory. More than a lesson. Jon, Winterfell is ours. If you think they'll let us keep it without a fight, you're wrong. You are good at this, leading these men. I see how they look at you. They will make you King for this, for reclaiming the north."
"I don't want to be King, Sansa."
Pausing she looked at him, his eyes were dark and tired. "Then what do you want? You came here for me and Rickon. Now what?"
"I wanted for all of us to be home. I've tried to do the right thing, to make choices to protect people. What has it gotten me?"
Me, a voice inside her says. "Winterfell," she answers. "Men who followed you to a battle that was not their own because they believe in you."
Jon's voice is like a knife, anger coloring his words. "And most of them died for it! Here we are in an empty home with my dead family in the crypts. And you want me to fight more? When does it end?"
Sansa stared at him, he carried a bone deep weariness in him that she could not help carry, his head bowed with a crown he did not wear. "Undead march on the wall, Cersei is burning King's Landing, dragons fly to Westeros. If I could take the North and set fire to the rest of the continent I would. I care, I really do but if caring that much means I lose you? I lose the chance of seeing Arya or Bran again?" Sansa's breath hitched and she can feel her throat thicken. "They will not let us be until we have enough power to keep them from the doors."
"That's what you want then? Power?"
Sansa inhaled sharply at the soft accusation. Did she want power? Did she want a crown upon her head with a legion of armed men ready to face down any enemy that came to her door? Wearing her family's direwolf on their banners as they prowled the lands like wolves in a pack. Small towns knowing they lay safe within her borders because men swear they can hear howls on the wind haunting their steps. Yes. If it meant she could safely fall asleep at night she would grab power with both hands and kill to keep it. If it meant that the small family she had left could rest within the walls of Winterfell she would ride for days, she would lead men to battle until they were the only ones left on the continent. "To keep our family safe, it takes power to do that. If you think we can disappear, find a small fishing village and vanish you're wrong. If you think that some farmer won't see father in your features and sell you to the kingdom to feed their family, you're wrong."
Eyes falling closed he takes a breath, when he opens them the haze of anger is gone. He strides forward towards her and she almost startles back. Jon doesn't stop until he is right against her reaching up to cup her face, his eyes flit over her face quickly resting on each feature. He pulls her toward him until their foreheads rest against each other. "I'm sorry. I just-" Voice breaking he breathes out. "I don't know what to do. Can’t it just be this?"
Sansa sinks down leaning into him. Her hand comes up to encircle his wrist. "Just stay with me." Sansa answers. "Stay with me and we'll figure out the rest."
Jon nods his head against hers, warm breath washing over her. His hands feel like fire upon her neck and her pulse quickens feeling them drag over her sensitive skin. Sansa’s breath falters as fingers push back into her hair before cupping the back of her neck. Pulling her into him his mouth passes an inch from hers before raising to settle into a kiss at her temple. She feels a brief tug of disappointment in her gut,what is wrong with her? Jon pulls her the rest of the way into a hug. "Together."
Sansa is glad for it, hiding the flush of shame on her cheeks and indulges herself turning her face into his neck. Breathing in she embraces the feeling of security for it surely would not last. Together.
Sansa sat astride her horse enjoying the way that the air fogged as she breathed out. The chill brought her comfort, biting at her face. “You ready?” she asked Jon.
Jon arched a brow at her, “Are you?”
Sansa stared at him before letting a sly grin creep onto her face. She dug her heels in as she urged her horse ahead. Breaking away she let them pick up speed until her hair was streaming behind her. She heard a rough chuckle before the stomp of hooves followed her, shouts from their guards came from behind them as they raced ahead. The air stung her eyes at the speed she was riding, she let her eyes close for a second as she embraced the feeling of recklessness. Jon thundered past her and she let out a breathless giggle as they raced next to each other. Seeing the village approaching they slowed.
“You spend a lot of time horseback racing?” Jon grinned.
Sansa’s smile faded but was still present, “I’ve spent a lot of time on horseback recently. I may not be a natural but I’ve learned.”
“Now, I wouldn’t say that. You were unpracticed maybe.”
Sansa warmed at his words. “You are too kind.”
Jon’s smile softened into fondness as he held her gaze. Sansa felt a flush rise to her cheeks as it lingered on her smile. “This was a good idea.”
Sansa nodded her head, they had sent trusted riders to houses that had not been heard from to determine the reasoning for the silence. Whether they meant to keep peace with the Bolton’s or they wished to hide from the Starks, Sansa would know their intentions. Along the same thought her and Jon had decided to ride with a party into Wintertown, she had not forgotten the dead Northerners that pledged their help to her. Bodies glistening in the winter light as they were torn apart. The people of the town would know that the North remembers and true Northerners were at the heart of Winterfell once again. “It was, I anticipate they will be happy to see us.”
“To see you maybe,” Jon defers. “They say you look the image of your mother.”
“And you father. Let us hope we do them justice.” Sansa falters. All too keenly aware of the flaws of her parent’s decisions. Sansa had had plenty of time to ruminate over the acts that had led her on her twisting journey home, both her own foolish ones and the people whose choices drug her down like weighted clothes. “Or let us forge our own path, make our own relationships with our people.”
Jon looked at her curiously with a certain light in his eyes. Sansa felt herself flush again, our people. As if they would live here together to see over the people of the North. “Let us go so our people then.”
After a few moments guards caught up with them, huffing chests as they scolded them about rushing off. Jon met her gaze and grinned conspiratorially all the while nodding along. "Of course, I don't know what overcame us." Sansa commented biting back a grin, glad Brienne was taking a day of rest or she would have kept pace allowing them not a second without her protection.
The town was the quietest she had ever seen it. Doors shut tightly against the outside world, windows dark. Doubt crept in as they passed house after house with no people. Had they all fled as battle raged at Winterfell? Reaching the center of town they paused their horses pacing restlessly and Sansa looked toward Jon. "Are they hiding?"
"Maybe," he replied. Eyes darting from house to house.
Sansa looked around and bit her lip. It felt like a ghost town. The market stalls lay empty, wares hidden away. She had run though those stalls as a child, her father secure in the knowledge that the majority of his people kept an eye out for his children, always herding them back to the group from Winterfell. Playing tag they would weave between the legs of vendors amid shouts and laughter. These were her people, she could feel it in her bones.
Hearing a call from nearby Sansa turned her horse. It was a somewhat familiar face, if she squinted she could imagine a younger woman among barrels of grain in a stall here. Her lip are chapped settled into a harsh slash "Is it true then? The Starks are in Winterfell again?" She calls from a distance away, her eyes on the direwolf banners held by a couple of their men. Grey hair pulled back from a weathered face she stared with chin raised as if daring them to come after the only one brave enough to greet them. Finally her eyes settled on Sansa, touching upon her bright red hair and high cheekbones. Doubt was replaced with a light of recognition, of joy. Sansa wondered if she remembered small children weaving between her legs.
"Aye, it's true!!" Jon calls. "Lady Sansa Stark rules at Winterfell!"
They emerge slowly until person after person spill from the nearby buildings, a happy murmur filling the air as they come out to see the Stark banners.
A grin spreads across Sansa's face at the sight and she meets Jon's gaze. He warmly looked back at her gaze falling on the upturn of her lips, "My Lady. Your people await you."
Sansa looked around, see groups of people emerging. Children held on hips as they formed a loose crowd around the group. She took a deep breath. "We wished to come see you in person!" Sansa pauses feeling the weight of the combined stares. "I know any rumor isn't real until you set eyes upon the person and you know it to be true. These years have been hard without my father, I know. Some of you may have suffered more than I can imagine. I've been called a silly girl by some but my greatest wish is for us to live as a community, sharing each other's joys and hardships. Lift each other up when we are strong and rally together when we are weak. I will do my best by you, I will learn to do even better I swear it. Any grievances you have bring them to Winterfell and I will work for a solution that will help us be better together. But there is time for that later. Today I wish for us to celebrate. Let us rejoice in this moment! Let us be thankful for the now, for nothing is certain."
Jon is staring at her with wonder as voices shout below them. He clears his throat. "Lady Stark has had her best hunters and cooks preparing for this day! We have brought food from the castle to share among you! Let us break fast together. The wolves are here again!"
A great cheer rises from the group as carts full of meat and bread are wheeled before them. Sansa had debated this action knowing that winter was near and the war would be hard on any supplies they had but...it was worth it. They look doubtfully, wondering if it's a trick for a moment. She wonders what acts the Bolton's had inflicted on the closest town.
Sansa swings her leg over the horse and drops to the road. She hears a disgruntled reprimand from one of her guards. Looking out at the people she took in their worn clothes and gaunt cheeks. They look back at her with fearful awe. A woman close to her held a small girl on her hips, tucking her face uncertainty into her mother's dark hair. Hair still the blond of babes before most of them turned dark, doe brown eyes staring through tendrils of hair.
Reaching out Sansa held her hand in offering. "Let me get you a serving." The woman shifts hiking her daughter higher up before releasing one hand and shyly rubbing it on her gown to knock some dirt off. She reaches for Sansa hesitating a breath away as if Sansa would have second thoughts. Sansa closes the gap and grasps her hand.
Gripping the hand she pulls the pair gently toward the carts. "My name is Sansa, what are yours?"
The woman responds in a soft voice, "I'm Agatha and this is Gwyn."
Sansa turns as they reach the carts, "I am glad to meet you." Her eyes settled on the child, feeling a gentle smile play upon her lips. "Aren't you a beauty? If you're anything like me and my siblings you're running your poor mother ragged."
Chuckling Agatha agrees, "Once they learn to walk, you must be ready to run. Anything within reach is a toy."
Sansa's smile widens. "I can only imagine." Reaching for a bowl she spoons some of the roast meat into it, a couple of roasted turnips, and pulling a few chunks of bread as well. Handing it to her she puts a hand on her arm. "Enjoy the food."
" We will, my lady." She drops into a messy curtsy.
Sansa is glad to see a line forming as Agatha retreats with her child. Making her way down the line she tries to greet as many as she can. Jon soon joins her. There are shocked gasps as Ghost comes up to trot along side them. Sansa smiles, yes the wolves are here again.
Kind but cautious smiles linger as she takes hand and talks to the people. Their eyes linger on her and Jon, seeing the past Stark's all too well in their features. Shouts welcoming them home echo down the line.
"You were great."
Sansa turns to Jon, a happy flush in permanent residence on her cheeks, she doesn't even feel the bite of winter though she sees mothers tucking children within their coats. "Thank you. I didn't know what to say to them. Only that I wish for us to be together again."
Jon's gaze is warm. "It was perfect, they know you aren't forgetting the past only hoping for a kinder future."
"Exactly," her hand drops to rest against Ghost's head. Scratching behind his ears she lets her thoughts wander. Remember this, she tells herself. These peaceful times will not last.
A rough hand grabs her elbow pulling her backwards. Her steps stumble as the hand pulls her around to face it's owner. "Lady Sansa!" The man has dark hair streaked with gray and dark almost black eyes. Manic eyes trace over her features. "You're just as beautiful as they say."
Sansa grimaces trying to force a smile as his hand digs into her flesh. "Thank you."
"I heard what those Bolton's did to you." His eyes trace down her body, Sansa's blood runs cold. His other hand coming up to pinch a lock of her hair between his fingers, mouth parting at the feel of it. "I heard-"
There's the metallic ring of a sword being drawn. A sharp point rests against the man's throat. "Let go of her," Jon's voice is dark.
The man freezes and she can see his throat bob as he swallows. He drops his hand fingers tugging at her hair as he grins. "Oh, I've heard she's taken rough-"
Jon's fist slams into the man's face. Sansa gasps as bodies collide in front of her. There are yells from the crowd at the scuffle taking place. After a moment Sansa steps forward and pushes between them. "Stop!" She grunts as an elbow catches her rib cage her body barely able to squeeze between the men. Shoving Jon she calls, "Ghost!"
Ghost growls stepping in between them and the stranger, effectively stopping the fight. He shifts his weight fangs bared as he stares at the man who grabbed her. Blood runs down his face and his shirt is slightly torn. Eyes darting between guards shifting toward them and the eerie red eyes of Ghost he lifts his hands though there is an almost pleased curve to his smile. Jon's chest is heaving as guards move to create more distance. Jon reaches for her then hesitates, Sansa rolls her eyes and steps into him letting his arm settle over her shoulder. "Sansa-"
"I'm fine." She ignores the roughness of her voice clenching her hands the fabric of her coat to hide the shaking. "It's fine."
Jon steps forward and though they are almost the same height he effectively blocks her in surrounding her with safety. He glared over his shoulder, "That man took liberties he should not have."
"Let's not have this ruin the day." Sansa took a deep breath and tried to shake off the event. Jon looks at her for a moment before pulling her along with him. He pulls her out of view of the crowd beside the wall of a nearby building. Looking back she sees a couple of the guards leading the man away. "Jon!"
Jon pushed her against the wall, he ran his eyes over her. "Just-are you-"
""I'm fine, I swear it."
"He touched you."
"Barely!"
Jon's hands reached up to cup her face, the warm heat of him spreading through her. It chased away any chill left from her encounter. Sansa's heart raced as she met his gaze. His grey eyes were unreadable as he held her for a long moment. "I just want to protect you."
"No one can protect me. No one can protect anyone."
Impossibly his eyes darkened further, they rested somewhere at her cheek where his thumbs rested. It moved slightly, almost caressing her and her breath caught, lips parting as she drew in a ragged breath. Jon's eyes slipped to rest on her mouth and she moved a hand to press against his rib cage. "I will." He replied that growl edging into his voice.
Sansa's eyes were wide. "Jon…" Her voice seemed to shake him of what ever haze he was in. His eyes flashed back to hers and he cleared his throat. Jon let his hands drop to her shoulders as he pulled her into his embrace, wrapping his arms around her. A hand threads through her hair as Sansa shifted her arms so they were crossed at his back. Ghost sits vigilant at the gap between the buildings, no guards in sight so she let the moment draw out. Tucking her chin in she let her nose settle in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. Stop, she tells herself. Yet still she lets her eyes fall closed as she savors the moment.
****
The morning is just edging into gray, the sun not breaking completely through the haze of night. Sansa had woken up gasping for air. Nightmares had plagued her this night, shadows dancing as her fire died. Her ladies now knew that no one was to enter her chambers while she was resting. More than one occasion of her waking screaming as they crept around the room stoking the fire and retrieving glasses had decided the fact for her. Sansa could do most of it herself anyway, even though some days she missed Shae like a limb. The unflinching honesty and loyalty the only one she had found in King’s Landing, Sansa pondered if she could send someone to sneak her North to her side. An ally that she knew was hers alone but these thoughts were dismissed in the face of all the tasks waiting to be done by any available person.
Sansa’s breath formed into clouds in the early morning. The chill becoming harsher as the days flew by. An unseen hourglass seemed to haunt all of their steps these days. The well worn path to the Godswood had grown over some, not walked daily as it used to be. She had been here a few times, finding comfort in the ghost of her father, walking the path that he had for so long. In this time of magic and myth she could almost believe that he waited there for her just out of sight. It was a silly thought but one of the few she let herself indulge in.
Picking her way across the path she finally came to the heart tree. It’s leaves were startling against the grey, gaunt face staring out at her with an ancient knowing. Sansa settled into the roots of the tree, leaning against it. Pulling out parchment she let her mind wander to the all the numbers it took to keep a castle like Winterfell running. Sansa had yet to find anyone she trusted to handle the majority of the books, she had advisors to help her maintain the integrity of the numbers she arrived to but most of the brain power in the North was focused beyond the wall.
It would just take time, she knew, time to build trust with the people around her. Sansa wanted that though. She wanted the sense of community she had growing up. Everyone from her father to the stable boys made the foundation of the North, everyone had a purpose. None of that would happen with every person training to be a fighter, a defender of the whole of the North. When everyone was destined to be a hero no one wanted to be a Winterfell guard.
The snap of a twig raised her head. Looking around she couldn’t see anyone. “Hello?” When there was no response her heart quickened. “Is anyone-?” Sansa’s question was cut off when an a sharp burst of cold hit her in the chest. As she gasped she heard the snicker of a familiar voice. Launching to her feet she shouted, “Jon Snow!”
“Sansa Stark.” She still couldn’t see him though her eyes narrowed in the direction of his drawling voice. “Are you really working this early in the morning?”
“Are you really lurking in the woods this early in the morning?” Sansa responded.
Jon’s head peeked out from behind a nearby tree. He wore a bright grin and she couldn’t help the responding twitch of her lips. “Aye. I’m patrolling these woods for any hidden dangers, my lady.”
“Oh really?” Sansa’s brows rose. Seeing his grin widen Sansa tucked her papers into her cloak. “Jon, don’t you dare!”
A blur of motion preceded her being pelted with another snow ball. The snow shattered against her, some finding its way between the gap between her dress and gloves. Jon chuckled, “Just think of it as training. For the wars to come.”
Sansa shook of the snow as he bent down to gather more snow in his hands. She used the moment to dart behind a tree. She gathered snow into a few balls and crouched down, trying to use the large tree to hide her body. Letting her eyes roam she saw his dark furs between trees she flung one of her snowballs in that direction. The snow burst against a tree not finding its target.
A giddy bubbling feeling rose in her chest and she couldn't help the breathless giggle that escaped. The morning was still and her heartbeat thundered in her ears, feeling unnaturally loud in the moment. As she inched her head out, "I feel like you have an advantage here!"
Silence greeted her. After a few beats of it passed she slowly rose to her feet. Hearing the crunching of footsteps on snow near her she started to run and was grabbed from behind. Sansa let out a laugh as she was lifted off the ground. Jon was a solid heat behind her, his arms wrapped around her ribs. "Gotcha," his warm breath washed against her ear.
Sansa shivered, goosebumps breaking out as her body settled against his. Their bodies fit together, her rear against his groin and her breasts upon his arms. Her breath shortened as her head fell back against his shoulder. "You do," she responded. "And what do you plan to do now?"
For a moment he just held her his head tucking against the back of her neck. She swore she could feel a ragged inhale from Jon. As he loosened his arms around her she was pushed into a turn. Sansa faced him with cheeks flush from the excitement of their silly game. They were of the same height, breath mingling and fogging the air between them.
"Well, my lady, I fear now that I have you…." The moment drew out. Jon eyes were alight with playfulness and she couldn't help the warmth at the thought of her being the one who could bring that to him. "I must betray you."
Jon palmed the back of her head, a hidden snowball in his hand and she gasped as cold trickled into her hair and down her neck as the ice melted. Sansa shoved him and watched as he stumbled back with a bright laugh. She shook her head trying to dispel some of the snow.
Seeing the determined glint in her eyes Jon held up his hands in surrender. Sansa reached down to grab snow as he backed further away. She chased after him as he turned to run. Their laughter echoed in the trees as they danced among them like children they rarely were. The morning was theirs, the day could wait.
"King of the North!! King of the North!" The voices seemed to echo throughout Winterfell even though the crowd had long since dispersed. Sansa sat at the head table still, alone in the hall. It was late, most everyone had retired to their chambers.
“Lady Sansa," she hears behind her. Turning she sees Brienne.
"Yes?"
"Is everything okay? It is late, you should rest."
Sansa looks at Brienne's concerned face. She doesn't know what she has done to deserve such earnest devotion. It wasn't her though was it? It was her mother who inspired such devotion that Brienne rode through the continent in search of her daughters. "I'm fine, Brienne." Sansa gave her a small smile. "Thank you."
"Would you like me to stay up with you, my lady? I know today was a joyous occasion."
Sansa insisted, "I'll retire soon."
"Lady-"
Sansa smile and laughs softly. "I promise, Brienne."
Finally she looks satisfied, she pauses at the door but carries on after only a small moment. Sansa returns her gaze to the hall. Hours ago it held dozens of men who were beholden to thousands of others. Families who hid in their homes as armies marched through, who wanted their children to grow up safe and fed. They were all looking to Jon to figure it out, to set them on a path to safety and prosperity. It was a heavy burden to carry, especially with men you weren't sure about.
Sansa had to remind herself, you are not the one they have chosen. You have not lead these men into battle, into victory. Jon doesn't need your opinion clouded his head. She could already see his thoughts warring within his head. It was her hope that her voice would settle him, but maybe it was just the opposite. Sansa pinched the bridge of her nose feeling a headache starting to settle behind her eyes.
Hearing a huff of breath she startled, a grin slowly spreading when she heard the click of nails. Sansa turned and saw Ghost quietly loping into the room. "Ghost," she called. His head raised as his blood red eyes met hers, ears perking up. Ghost padded over to her and set his face in her lap, he was taller than her knees the way she was sitting. Sansa ran her fingers over his face, scratching her nails behind his ears. "What are you doing up?" She cooed at him.
Ghost huffed flopping onto his butt and leaning into her legs. He looked up at her with soulful eyes and her breath caught. "Don't you worry, I'll take care of him." Sansa leaned down resting her head upon his. "We've both got his back now, I promise."
Sansa had seen men hold their breath as Ghost walked by. Earning his name, he stalked the grounds like a spectre bringing a chill to any man who looked too long. Yet he was a comfort to her, many times he walked beside her when Jon was away training or meeting with men. It felt as if a part of Jon rested within him, bearing some of his duties when he was away.
Sansa relied on him, especially after the events of Wintertown. When they emerged they were met with hesitance but it soon evolved back into a joyous occasion. Families laughed together and songs soon rang throughout the air. Their faces alighting with joy when she and Jon would sing along.
Ghost seems even more protective now, baring his teeth at men who thought themselves familiar with her and approached too closely for comfort. Letting her hand rest upon his head as he treated her as one of his own, his to protect. It made her ache for Lady, many years gone now. A direwolf who embodied her name, she was a sweet pup, putting up with tied ribbons and smothering kisses. Sansa would sleep with her every night, letting her fire die as Lady warmed her feet. The loss felt new some days, the first of the many tragedies that followed. At times a childish thought would play upon her, that if Lady had lived then none of the rest would have happened.
Sansa blinked as tears burned in the corners of her eyes. Gritting her teeth she forced the tears away. Your skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel she tells herself. Every happy ending you've gotten has melted like snow in your hands, so you belong here where the snow won't melt and the cold will bite through to your very bones. You couldn't protect your father or Robb with your pretty words. You couldn't convince Petyr to keep you despite the devotion and cravings in his eyes. So stop. Stop wanting anything but survival, there are no happy endings for you.
Tilted her head she laid one last gentle kiss upon Ghost's head before standing. Sansa nudged him up and rose from her seat. Laying a gentle hand upon his head she told him, "Go keep Jon company, he needs you." Her forehead creased as he met her gaze with far too much knowledge for an animal. "Go on." He sighed as he rose to his feet and trotted out of the room.
Sansa pressed a hand to her sore rib and took a deep breath. Cersei may plot and scheme in King's Landing, a Targaryen heir may be sailing to Westeros with visions of greatness, but winter was coming. Though she may not pray to them she swore to any god out there that the last of the Starks would be left standing at the end of this. With that thought she retired to her chambers, sleeping restlessly in her parent's bed.
Jon laid out plans for all of the north, for all of Westeros. Sending men with instructions back to their castles, scrounging for information to aid in the war to come. He spoke like a King, with command. Jon was a man used to leading, he always had been, even though it was never meant for him. The gods had other plans, pushing him higher and higher until here he was...named King of the North. Sansa's steps lengthened to keep up with him as he strides away from her. A king with a sister he wasn't sure about, his gaze betrayed as he accused her of undermining him.
'Sansa, these are children. You would see their family home ripped from them?' His gaze burned through her, as if she was cruel monster. 'Make them pay for their father's misdeeds?'
Sansa's eyes were unfocused, a past vision of her back striped with bruises held in her mind’s eye. "We are all held for our father's mistakes. They are children, I agree. Their fathers stood beside Ramsay when they were given every chance to take our side. I would see them placed with loyal northern families and their houses given to men who have fought for us. Men who weren't lucky enough to be born to traitorous Lords and would keep whole houses in line, better than any child would. Men who can tell their sons and grandchildren that they fought loyally and were given greatness for it. Men who would hold the Stark name in their hearts for generations!'
Jon's gaze fell from her. 'I don't need you undermining me in front of these men. I am the king now and my word needs to hold weight. Any disagreement from you costs me respect in the eyes of these men.'
Sansa followed as he strode away from her. “I’m not trying to undermine you! You have to be smart-”
He cut her off, “How should I be smart? By listening to you?”
“Would that be so terrible?” Sansa had watched kings and queens for years, most of the time quietly observing as they dismissed her as a girl with no head for politics or anything greater than the current fashions. She had watched advisors guide the narrative of the ones they served, men who wrote history as they knew it. Despite the family's failings, the Lannisters still held King's Landing. Through fear or loyalty the people of the city hadn't marched on the castle calling for their heads. Her knowledge could be of some use.
They were interrupted as a message from Cersei demanding Jon bow the knee and relinquish the north or be named traitor to the crown. “We’ve been so consumed with the enemy to the north we’ve forgotten about the one to the south.”
“I’m consumed with the Night King because I’ve seen him. Believe me, you’d think of little else if you had too.”
“We still have a wall between us and the Night King, there’s nothing between us and Cersei.”
“There’s a thousand miles between us and Cersei. Winter is here the Lannisters’ are a southern army. They never range this far north.”
“You’re the military man, but I know her. If you’re her enemy she’ll never stop until she’s destroyed you. Everyone who has ever crossed her she’s found a way to murder.”
Jon stared at her with guarded eyes, “You almost sound as if you admire her.”
“I learned a great deal from her.” Cersei’s kind eyes turning cruel in a second, accusing her of treason. Always watching with a plan in place to make sure she was left standing with power at the end of it. Word of her marching naked through the streets of King’s Landing and then burning down the men who did it as she ascended the throne. Sansa would never underestimate her, in her darkest moments she could almost understand her.
Jon shook his head as he turned. Grabbing his arm before he could get out of range. “I would not see us weak and unprepared. If we defeat the Night King just to be starved and laid to waste by Cersei then all of this would be for nothing.”
“Like it or not we may need her for this war. We need any man with a weapon we can find!”
Sansa dropped his arm. “I’m trying to protect us. I’m trying to make sure that we are alive at the end of this.”
Jon’s eyes looked conflicted. “All I care is that there is an end to this.”
She felt the words like a blow as he walked away from her. Sansa looked out into the men working below her, she cared about far more than that. Thoughts raced through her as she walked while observing the castle that she was finally safe within. When she paused for too long a moment Petyr approached her, with his simpering voice. “What do you want, Lord Baelish?”
“I want you to be happy. I want you to be safe.”
“I am safe. I’m at home surrounded by friends.” None of them yours, none of the truly loyal to you. “I have Brienne to protect me from anyone who’d harm me.”
“What about happy? Why aren’t you happy? What do you want that you do not have?”
“At the moment, peace and quiet.”
Brienne approached up the stairs and she was grateful for the reprieve. Sansa cut him off before he could make one more needling comment. “No need to seize the last word, Lord Baelish, I’ll assume it was something clever.” Petyr pursed his lips before bidding them farewell.
“Why is he still here?’’
“We need his men.” Sansa answered. “Without the Vale Ramsay Bolton would still hold this castle. Littlefinger saved us.”
Brienned nodded casting a wary eye at Baelish’s retreating figure. “He wants something.”
“I know exactly what he wants.” If he could have me curled at his feet as he sat on the iron throne he would she thought.
Then the raven came bearing the writing of her former husband.
Queen Daenerys Targaryen First of Her Name, invites you to Dragonstone. My queen commands the combined forces of Dorne and the Reach, an Ironborn fleet, legions of Unsullied, a Dothraki horde and three dragons. The Seven Kingdoms will bleed a long as Cersei sits on the Iron Throne. Join us. Together we can end her tyranny. I appeal to you, one bastard to another, for all dwarves are bastards in their father’s eyes.
Tyrion was kind to her, but she had almost always felt like he was playing a game she was not aware of. This letter was no different. Words laden with more than one meaning. A list of forces promising either allies or enemies. Jon and Davos' eyes meeting at the thought of dragon fire unnerves her and she tries to shake the unsettling feeling that she is being excluded from a greater plan.
"This message was sent to me by Samwell Tarly. He was my brother at the Night's Watch, a man I trust as much as anyone in this world. He's discovered proof that Dragonstone sits on a mountain of dragonglass. I received this a few days ago from Dragonstone. It was sent to me by Tyrion Lannister.” His words were met with grumbling from the hall. “He is now Hand of the Queen to Daenerys Targaryen. She intends to take the Iron Throne from Cersei Lannister. She has a powerful army at her back and, if this message is to be believed, three dragons. Lord Tyrion has invited me to Dragonstone to meet with Daenerys. And I'm going to accept."
"Accept?!" A voice exclaims amid shouts. Sansa's jaw is clenched as his speech continues, trying to bite down on the sting of him not talking to her before this. This isn't a betrayal, Sansa tells herself, this is the King of the North ruling his people. You aren't an equal here, you are an advisor.
"We need this dragonglass, my lords! We know that dragonglass can destroy both white walkers and their army. We need to mine it and turn it into weapons. But more importantly, we need allies! The Night King's army grows larger by the day. We can't defeat them on our own. We don't have the numbers. Daenerys has her own army and she has dragonfire. I need to try and persuade her to fight with us. Ser Davos and I will ride for White Harbor tomorrow, then sail for Dragonstone."
Sansa’s heart was in her stomach. "Have you forgotten what happened to our grandfather? The Mad King invited him to King's Landing - and roasted him alive!”
“I know that."
"She is here to reclaim the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms. The North is one of those seven kingdoms. This isn't an invitation; it's a trap." Sansa could see it clearly, Jon would never return to the North.
"It could be, but I don't believe Tyrion would do that. You know him. He's a good man."
"Your Grace, with respect, I must agree with Lady Sansa. I remember the Mad King all too well. A Targaryen cannot be trusted. Nor can a Lannister."
"Yeah! Aye."
"We called your brother king. And then he rode south and lost his kingdom."
Lyanna Mormont stands to speak. "Winter is here, Your Grace. We need the King of the North in the North."
"Aye!" Men pounded their hands on the tables.
"You all crowned me your king. I never wanted it. I never asked for it. But I accepted it because the North is my home. It's part of me, and I will never stop fighting for it, no matter the odds. But the odds are against us. None of you have seen the Army of the Dead. None of you. We can never hope to defeat them alone. We need allies, powerful allies. I know it's a risk. But I have to take it."
"Then send an emissary. Don't go yourself."
"Daenerys is a queen. Only a king can convince her to help us. It has to be me."
"You're abandoning your people! You're abandoning your home."
"I'm leaving both in good hands."
"Whose?"
"Yours. You are my sister. You're the only Stark in Winterfell. "Until I return, the North is yours.”
Sansa stared at him with shocked eyes, why would he do this? Jon nodded at her looking at her with determined. I don’t need you undermining me in front of these men. With that thought echoing she couldn’t help but nod back.
Hours later she sits in her solar with stacks of papers laid out in front of her. Sansa is diligently copying bits and pieces of pertinent information over to one single document. Having to hunt through dozens of papers for one line is wasting their time. Putting it all in one document would help them in the months to come. A deep crease had settled upon her brow as she strained to see by candle light. Exact numbers of the grain they have, how many people the castle would hold at maximum occupancy, and more. Dusk was settling outside of her window but she pushed on. Time was creeping up on her, it felt as if the cold was settling into her bones, a burning cold that was looking to take life and limb.
A soft knock sounded on the door of her solar and her eyes fell closed. Sansa knew who it was, of course she did. She had given him a tight nod as she fled the hall after his declaration. Murmurs still filled the hall as they were dismissed, breaking into smaller groups as they left. The king’s plan was not sitting well with anyone.
“Come in,” she called out.
Jon poked his head in, “You have time?”
Sansa took a breath before relaxing her hands. She puts all of her papers to the side and stands as he walks in. “For you? Of course.”
“It’s getting late, what are you still doing working?”
“I mean…” Sansa’s brow furrows again. “The work needs done.”
Jon nods, a flush stealing over his face. “Yes. Listen I-”
“Jon.” Sansa cuts him off. “You know I think this is a terrible idea.”
“It’s what I need to do.”
“So you say.”
Anger edges into his voice. “Sansa.”
“What? Do you want me to lie to you? Do you really think kings meet in person with invading forces?!”
“She is a queen, she deserves-”
“To have a third party send a letter with vague threats and a king to come to her on her terms? What are you even going to say to her?!”
“That if she wants to be a queen of anything then she needs to help us. We need those men. We need those dragons she has. She is sitting on a pile of dragon glass!”
Sansa feels a stinging at the back of her eyes, “And what does she need Jon?! What are you going to give her so that she doesn’t kill you where you stand.”
Jon’s voice edged into a growl. “Anything she wants, Sansa! You know why I have to go? This right here! I’ve told you how dangerous what’s coming is! I’ve told you what we need and you still don’t get it! You agreed, in front of everyone you agreed!”
Sansa reared back as he yelled. “What was I supposed to do? Undermine you in front of your men again?” There was no use to this. “Jon, I don’t want to fight with you. You’re going. Anything I say won’t change your mind.”
“Don’t do that, don’t make me out to seem unreasonable.”
Sansa sits down. She felt helpless, he was leaving. Jon was leaving her and any reasons or pleading would not make him stay. “What do you want from me, Jon? I can’t do this okay? I have had enough bad goodbyes, I don’t need this to be one more.”
“Sansa, this isn’t-I’m coming back.” Jon looked at her with tortured eyes.
“Of course,” Sansa gave him a tight smile. “I will make sure everything runs smoothly while you are away.”
Jon strode toward the desk, hands slamming down on it. Sansa jumped at the action. “Don’t you dare do this. Sansa, don’t shut me out.”
“Does it matter?! It’s not like you have let me in! Every decision you’ve made has been on your own and I’m just left with the pieces.” Sansa felt tears welling up in her eyes again and she tried to fight them back. “You’re king, if this is what you wish to do then do it. No one can stop you.”
Dark eyes flit across her face as he rounds the table. Jon kneels down in front of her, he puts a hand a fraction of a meter from her face. His eyes linger on the space as the heat seems to sear her face. Sansa almost leans into it, wanting his hands on her, wanting him to cup her face and pull her into him. Before she can he draws away hand dropping to take hers, she almost wants to cry. Shame floods her gut, twisting in her stomach.
Jon shifts to meet her eyes. “I need you to be here. The North needs you here.”
Sansa lets her head fall back. Of course, she needs to be there for the North. They were there for her, they bled for her. “I will...I will wait here.” A hard glint enters her eyes. “And Jon? You will come back.”
Jon lets his hands squeeze hers a little tighter. “I will.” A thumb trails across the back of her hand. “I will.”
Sansa rises from her seat. “You’re right, I should retire for the evening.” She pauses, him still on his knees before her holding onto her hands. “You know I’m just trying to protect us right?”
“I’m trying to do the same, Sansa.” He leans in, head resting against her hands. “If I lost you…” His breath is hot against her fingertips, voice taking a forbidding tone. Jon grips her firmer and uses her hands to pull her toward him. Shouting in surprise Sansa stumbles and he uses the unbalance to pull even further until she was on the floor with him.
Sansa slaps his hand away, her long limbs sprawled awkwardly around her. “Jon!”
Jon takes her face in his hands, no hesitation, his fingers settling into the hollow of her cheeks. His eyes stare intently into hers, “You matter to me more than anyone.” Jon, “I can’t leave knowing-”
Sansa cuts him off. “You aren’t. Jon, I believe in you.” Sansa sighs. “We aren’t the same. It’s hard for me, but I know that we want the same...” She trails off breath stuttering as she leans heavier into his embrace, her heart races as their heads rest against each other.
“Yeah.” he breathes. Turning his head their cheeks meet. Jon’s eyes are closed, she can see dark lashes resting on his cheeks out of the corner of her eye. Maybe...it feels as if fire is racing along her skin. Sansa turns further, his breath now washing over her mouth. It parts, tingling at the thought of them meeting. He’s so close, body heat cutting through her clothes. Jon leans as his head tilts up, his mouth misses her by inches. His hand upon her face guides her to his shoulder. “Our people safe.” He lays a gentle kiss on the top of her head as acid rushes into her veins.
After all this time she still hasn’t learned. Sansa lets her head rest on Jon’s collar bone so he doesn’t see her face. The shame from earlier burns even hotter, feeling as if it is tearing right through her. Jon is her brother. She is sick, something has twisted inside of her, something corrupted and wrong. Sansa feels embarrassment burn her cheeks as a tear slips down her face and her breath shudders in her chest. She should know. Sansa is not one for pretty face touches, a soft kiss upon her lips and people staying for her. In the songs they sing now she is a prowling wolf, fierce yet untouchable. Even in Jon’s embrace she feels the ice of impending doom creep even further upon her.