Chapter Text
The morning was not the sunny, warm, day Jon had wanted. A fresh snow had coated the earth over the night, then frozen in hard, packed ice. The skies were grey and threatening, the septa threatening that weather was only going to get worse throughout the week. He didn’t want that. He wanted Winterfell at its best. He wanted the winter roses to be in bloom, some of the lush green under the snow to show. He had important company arriving. He had invited a man who had saved his life to Winterfell. It would be his first time entertaining as Lord, as a true Stark, a Targaryan even.
Sansa came down, wearing the new dress he had gotten for her. It was soft blue, the color of the ocean and it brought out the brightness of her eyes. She had done her hair up too, like he asked, like their mother used to wear it. It suited her, framed her face and long neck.
She looked busy in her mind, but that was understandable. She would be leaving soon, if all went according to plan. She’d be going to the Quiet Isles, searching for a man many believed dead. Her sister Arya had told her in dirty details what had transpired between her and the Hound, and when she last saw him.
How she last saw him.
“I left him there, and I’m not going to apologize for it.” Arya had replied, stiff of jaw.
Sansa shivered, Arya had been as graphically detailed as she possibly could, hoping to shatter her sister’s dream.
Since then Sansa had not been able to get it off her mind. She had heard rumors, Brienne being the greatest stoker of them. Letters to the elders on Quiet Isle added to it. And now, with Jon’s guest arriving, hope was also coming for Sansa.
Lord Crestwaves of the Southeast Cape and Coves was arriving. During the war for Westeros, when Jon and the men of the Nightswatch were traveling to King’s Landing, their ship hit a terrible storm. Boiling and freezing waters nearly sunk them when a passing ship, captained by Lord Crestwaves himself, happened to save their lives.
He took the Nights Watch into his home. Healed them, fed them, clothed them, housed them while they prepared themselves. Serving his home to them as their base of operation. He was a good man, Jon thought. Bright, fiery, and above all, kind. Kindness was rare in those days, and along with gold, he had it to spare.
When Jon was legitimized by Queen Daenerys and made Lord of Winterfell, he had gone to Laen in an attempt to pay back his debt to him.
“There is no debt, Jon.” Laen explained with a cool laugh. “It was my pleasure to help you and your men. I have more than enough gold and men at my disposal, I do not need your newly rekindled glory.” He smiled, showing off his gold tooth. “All I need is your thanks and your friendship. Besides, knowing I have Winterfell as an ally is very comforting.”
Jon sighed, still not satisfied, and some what guiltily he took a shot in the dark. “I have a sister, her name is Sansa.”
Laen’s blue eyes watched him knowingly. “And I have a brother who died three years ago.” He laughed. “What is your point Jon?”
“She was just released from her marriage. She has told me she is untouched,” he cleared his throat. “Perhaps a marriage of our houses…”
Laen laughed, bright and cheerful. “Jon, your sister doesn’t want to be married to an old fish like me.” He shook his head, coppery-golden hair fluttering. “Not after being married to the imp!” He tsked. “I am too old for that sort of thing anyways. I will be happier to spend the rest of my years alone. Marriage has not been fair to me in my youth. And I am not a man who can be a proper husband. I do not want to pass that on to your sweet sister.”
Jon nodded, relieved some he had turned the offer down. “Well then, at least, once Winterfell is rebuilt, I would insist you and your men come and celebrate with us.”
Laen nodded. “I do enjoy a good party.” He rubbed his chin. “It is a deal then! Please, alert me as soon as you can have me.” And they shook hands.
The gates opened, and great painted horses came storming in. Sansa held onto Jon’s arm, watching with a cool gaze as they filed in, creating a semi-circle in which a carriage rode in, behind it, a red painted horse ran front and center.
Jon approached the horse, smiling. “Lord Crestwaves, welcome to Winterfell!” He exclaimed happily, reaching up to extend his hand to the man.
He took Jon’s hand, jumping off his horse then pulling Jon into a hug. This surprised Sansa some as she watched. The last time she had seen men hug and genuinely mean it was her father and the dead King Robert.
“Jon! I told you, call me Laen.” He said, slapping the boy hard on the back. “It is good to see you.” His smile waned some as Sansa approached. His eyes trailing over her slowly, taking in the lovely creature who had suddenly appeared.
“And who is this startling lady?” Laen approached, kneeling before Sansa and taking her hand.
“Laen, this is my sister, Sansa.”
Sansa watched as Laen took her hand, kissing it. “It is a great pleasure to meet you, Ser.” Sansa replied in her soft way.
Laen kissed the back of her hand, skin scented with rose. “Pleasure is all mine, lady.” He stood, keeping Sansa’s hand. “I must tell you, I have not enjoyed a woman’s beauty so in ages.”
Sansa smiled, blushing demurely. “Thank you, Ser.” She offered her arm to him, which he took happily.
“Is this the girl who is to be borrowing my ship?” Laen asked as they walked back towards the entrance.
Jon nodded. “Yes.”
“And what does a lovely girl such as you need a ship for?” Laen queried, looking at Sansa.
Her lashes fluttered. “I am searching for an old friend.” Sansa answered softly.
Laen nodded, patting her hand on his arm. “What a lucky devil.” He turned, motioning to the captain of her guard. “I’ll escort you to the ship myself. Do you have anyone else going with you?”
Sansa shook her head. “I’ll be meeting with the Elder Brother.” She replied. “He has promised to look after me while I am there.” She removed her arm, taking both his hands. “I will let you rest from your journey. I still have things to must take care of.”
Laen nodded, smiling. “I hate to see you leave, my lady.”
His smile was a pleasing thing, Sansa thought. Even with that funny gold tooth, it is handsome and warm. She found she could not hate this man and she saw what Jon saw. Kindness, Jon had told her, he was full of it, but it was a weapon he did not use lightly.. “And I hate to leave. But as you must know Ser, a lady’s duties are never done.” Lord Crestwaves bowed low to her and she turned on her heel and left them to return to her room and finish her packing.
Lane tilted his head watching her go.
“I thought you were too old for this sort of thing?” Jon teased as they continued walking to the great hall.
“I was not prepared,” Laen laughed. “I must admit, your sister caught me off my guard!” He exclaimed, taking a seat before the hearth. “I had heard of your mother’s loveliness, seen it once since the Tullys and the Crestwaves share the waters.” He rubbed his chin. “But your sister…She is bewitchingly lovely. The Imp must have been made of cold iron to resist her as she grew.”
Jon laughed softly, ignoring Laen’s comment about Tyrion. “Then have you changed your mind about an engagement.”
Laen took a drink of wine from a goblet offered to him. He made a sour face, rolling his eyes. “Your sister is enchanting. But I am still not interested in marriage. Are you that eager to marry her away?”
Jon shook his head, puppy dog eyes widening. “Certainly not. Although, we do need to think about continuing the North. I hate to ask it of her, but it is necessity.” He looked back towards Laen. “And I would prefer it be someone I know who would honor and take care of her instead of some random lord.”
Laen sighed dreamily. “It would not be a long marriage, considering my age. And I cannot promise children.” He winked cryptically, drinking deeply from the goblet. “Besides, I doubt your sister would have me. She seems very disinterested.”
Jon laughed, rolling his shoulders and leaning back in his chair. “Her mind is elsewhere.” He replied.
Laen’s captain came in, standing beside his chair. Laen reached up to him, whispering softly and then the captain nodded, turning and exiting just as quietly as he had entered.
“I could tell.” Laen continued. “Who is this friend she is searching for? And on the Quiet Isle of all places?”
Jon sighed, running his fingers through his curly hair. “Do you recall Sandor Clegane?” He asked.
Laen’s golden brow arched. “The Hound?” He laughed jovially. “What on earth would a girl like Sansa be interested in the Hound for?”
“I have not heard the full story,” Jon shook his head dolefully, leaning forward against his knees. “Arya had told me some, so has Tyrion. But, and I am not sure on this, I do believe he had been protecting Sansa, serving her in his own, odd, way.”
Laen’s brow pinched. “That does seem odd, someone who was so unanimous with killing…” He drifted momentarily. “I had heard he died.”
Jon nodded. “So had I.” He leaned back in his chair again. “But apparently, the wind has picked up quite a few whispers.”
Laen smirked. “And so the little wolf goes running.”
Jon shrugged, laughing to himself. “Well,” he looked to Laen. “I believe she may be in love with him.”
Laen hesitated on his drink, looking at Jon with a shocked look upon his face.
Jon chuckled. “Yes, I know. But the more I watch her, the more I see it. I cannot dismiss it, especially after the bargain she made with me.”
“Which was?”
Jon looked towards him. “I granted her to search for Clegane, just as long as that, when she returned, with Clegane or no, she would have to accept a marriage.”
Laen sighed, chest heavy. “Aye? Well, Clegane would be no marriage now, would he? Alive or dead, before or after.” He finished his wine, holding it out for more. “And after all the tales that flowed down from King’s Landing and into my waters, I do not blame the girl for not wanting any sort of marriage.”
“I just want the Stark name to continue on.” Jon replied. “I had considered marrying her myself but I just…”
Laen laughed. “Blood or no, you love her too much to torture each other like that.” He reached out, patting Jon on the back. “You may have some dragon in there, but above all that you’re a wolf, Jon”