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Chapter Text

Sansa

Sansa was staring uncertainly at Jon as he kept pacing the room like a caged animal. She understood this wasn’t ideal. In fact, it was far from ideal and if she was honest with herself, it was something that under any different circumstances she never would have agreed to. The very idea of her and Jon made her skin crawl. Or at least it used to before she actually knew about who he really was. She had spent years thinking of Jon as her half-brother and keeping him at a distance and one would think that she’d still feel the same way. Jon Snow for his part certainly thought so. However, putting feelings aside, Sansa was willing to do what had been asked of her because she knew her father was right and this was the best way to keep her family safe. And yes, perhaps this concerned more Jon than it did the rest of them, but she was not that naive to believe they would be spared. Besides, she would never forgive herself if she knew she could have done something to help him and just stood by and watched.

Even though she didn’t share the bond her other siblings shared with Jon, she still cared about him. Maybe not as deeply as she cared about Robb, Bran, Rickon or even Arya, but still; she had always wanted what was best for him. Before she learned the truth about his parentage, of course, that had meant something entirely different for her. Jon had never had a place in her future and they had been both aware of the fact and somehow that had made her feel a little less guilty about not trying to form a real connection with him. She had always known that they would eventually follow completely different paths and that once she got betrothed, she would most probably never see him again.

All she had ever dreamed of in the past had been to marry a noble lord in the South and become a lady in her own castle, and for a while—after King Robert had sent ravens to all the important Houses, informing them that he was looking for a bride for Prince Joffrey to be betrothed to—she had even dreamed of becoming Queen one day, standing by her handsome King’s side. Her dreams, however, had soon been replaced with disappointment when the King had chosen a Tyrell for his son to marry and then, as fate would have it, with utter relief when Jon Arryn, who was the Hand of the King, had revealed that both Princes, along with Princess Myrcella, were nothing but the product of the incestuous relationship between Cersei Lannister and her twin brother, Jaime.

It was funny how fate worked and Sansa did not fail to see the irony in the fact that the prince she had once been dreaming of marrying was a bastard and Jon Snow, whom she had always associated the word bastard with, was the real prince she would get to marry. Because not only was Jon not a bastard, but if the Targaryen dynasty had not fallen, he would have grown up as a potential heir to the Iron Throne and a prince, with him being the trueborn son of Prince Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark, her lord father’s sister and Sansa’s aunt.

The truth about Jon had been revealed soon after the scandal about the Lannisters had seen the light and after both Stags and Lions had raised their banners for war. Besides her father’s best efforts to keep Jon’s parentage a secret all these years, someone had somehow figured out the truth and had decided to immerse the Kingdoms into more chaos by revealing it, forcing her father to finally admit it to the family and confess of the promise he had made to his sister to protect her son and of his decision to pass him as his own. Which had proven to be a wise one if Robert Baratheon’s fury was anything to go by. Now, all of Westeros seemed to be at war and everyone had turned against one another with no exceptions. Not even that of the North.

The Northerners had hated the Targaryens for a long time to take the truth about Jon well. In their minds Prince Rhaegar had been a monster just like his father the Mad King, who had killed both her uncle and grandfather in the most gruesome way. They had always shared the belief with the rest of Westeros that Lyanna had been taken against her will and had been raped and now they were seeing Jon to be worse than just a bastard and considered her father a traitor to his family and the North as well as a Targaryen sympathizer. As a result, they weren’t willing to risk their lives and join the Starks in the fight against Robert Baratheon’s army. They were claiming that King Robert had every right to demand Jon’s head and that if her father wanted to truly prove himself loyal to the North, he would have to hand over the Targaryen bastard. The North had no need of another war because of a Targaryen.

Therefore, their stance had left her father with no choice. He would never break his promise to his sister and let Jon die, but he also understood that their House needed the other northern Houses’ army if they were to survive an attack from the Baratheons. And the only way he could think of how to do that was to explain the whole truth about Jon and his parentage and to prove his nephew’s loyalty to the North. Consequently, he had taken it upon himself to send ravens, informing the other Northern lords about the true events concerning Jon.

In his letters he was writing about the love between Rhaegar and Lyanna and their secret wedding, which made Jon a trueborn instead of a bastard and a product of true love instead of rape. He was reminding them of how highly everyone thought of Lyanna and he was telling them of how Jon was just like her and a true son of the North, who had nothing to do with the side of his real father’s family. Jon had been raised as a Stark and had never known another family. He was a boy innocent of Rhaegar’s crimes, whatever those were, and he most certainly did not deserve Robert Baratheon’s wrath for simply being the son of the woman he once loved but who—as it turned out—did not love him in return.

Nevertheless, even after they had received the ravens and although their stance had considerably relaxed, it was obvious that they were not convinced and felt uncertain about Jon. They didn’t like having someone bearing the Targaryen name in their midst and so her father had come up with a final plan; to give Jon his mother’s name and legitimize him as a Stark instead of a Targaryen after marrying him off to Sansa, a move that would strengthen his Stark legacy and remove any doubt from the Northern lords that Jon’s sympathies could lie with anyone but the Starks and the North. He wanted to show them that Jon was a Stark and a Northerner through and through; one that needed to be protected. And with that Sansa couldn’t agree more.

Thus, when the time had come and Ned had asked for Jon and Sansa to visit him in his solar and had revealed his plan, Sansa, as the dutiful daughter she was, had agreed to both her father’s relief and Jon’s disbelief. It had been apparent that her lord father had thought that she would be the one to oppose the union a lot more than Jon and her former half-brother had been simply rendered speechless by her response. He had always thought of her as this silly little girl that never cared about anyone but herself and even though it had been nice for once to subvert his expectations, deep inside she knew that he wasn’t entirely wrong and her agreement to her father’s proposal wasn’t exactly a selfless act.

If she was completely honest with herself, one of the main reasons she had agreed—besides helping protect Jon of course—was what she thought her now cousin could offer her in the future; and given who his real father had been and what the outcome of a war between the Starks and the Baratheons might be, he could potentially give her more than any of the other lords in the Seven Kingdoms ever could. Suddenly, her dream of one day becoming a Queen with a handsome King by her side wasn't so far-fetched anymore. Because if there was only one thing she always believed about Jon, it would be that he was handsome.

“Have you completely lost your mind? Why did you agree when Father asked? Jon yelled at her as he suddenly came to a halt in front of her, pulling her from her thoughts and bringing her back to the present. “I know how you feel about me, Sansa. You never fail to make me aware of your feelings. So, please explain to me why would you ever want to marry me?” Her cousin looked like a man possessed in his fury and Sansa found it hard not to roll her eyes at him, but refrained from doing so.

“Your feelings or mine don’t matter. It is my duty as a Stark to protect our family and our House. Jon, don’t you see? Everyone is in danger and even though you never asked for this, it is all because of you. So, one would think that you would be a little more thankful for the fact that all of us care about you so much to come up with a crazy plan like this and agree to do it instead of acting out. Would being married to me really be that terrible for you? Up until yesterday you were a bastard with no future and now you get to be a Stark and marry a real lady,” she told him as Jon kept glaring at her.

“Yeah, a lady who happens to be my sister. Are you really in such a hurry to follow in the Queen’s footsteps and make us the next Lannisters?” This time Sansa couldn’t help rolling her eyes.

“Jon, don’t be so dramatic. We’re cousins, not siblings, and everyone is aware of it. No one would accuse us of being like the Lannisters. Father said as much. Besides, being a Targaryen yourself, I thought you wouldn’t find it that big of a deal. It is me who should have a problem with this, not you.” Before she even finished talking, Sansa realized the line she had crossed as she watched Jon close his eyes, like he was trying to compose himself and not do something he would regret.

“I’m not a Targaryen and I can assure you that I would never fancy my sisters. This whole conversation is meaningless. I’ve already made up my mind about what I should do. I’ll join the Night’s Watch and rid you all of this problem,” Jon said with finality, making Sansa start panicking. Something like this would never work. He would never be safe if he did this.

“You are a fool if you think Robert Baratheon would let you live the rest of your days on the Wall. The man is furious and he’s out for blood. The war he’s in with the Lannisters isn’t doing any favors on his temper either. If you go to the Wall, he’ll just send an assassin or order someone there to kill you. Father will never let you go and take that chance. I won’t let you go. In fact, I forbid you to bring this up ever again,” she yelled back at him and Jon sighed deeply. She knew he knew she was right. It was written all over his face.

“And so what? You prefer we marry? You prefer to give up your freedom for me? I know you, Sansa, and you’ve never acted this selfless and especially with something like this that would impact and change your life so radically.”

“So, you think saving my cousin’s life and helping my family isn’t enough? Do you really think so little of me?” she asked and felt hurt by his implication even if there was a speck of truth in his words.

“Of course not, but—” Jon looked so conflicted as he tried to find the words to explain himself.

“I just don’t understand how you can possibly want this. You agreed so fast like it was so easy for you to accept. You know, you were right when you said that this is something I never thought I’d get to have. But what about you? Why are you suddenly so accepting of marrying a bastard? It’s all I’ve ever been to you and you’ve never failed to remind me of my place. I just don’t understand your change of heart. If anything, you should hate me even more now with everything that’s happening.”

“I never hated you and I’m not going to start doing it now,” Sansa argued and then took a deep breath as she stared into his eyes.

“Jon, you must know why I was always so distant. It wasn’t because I didn’t care for you, but because it hurt Mother. You know how she always felt about you, before Father told us the truth, and I’m sure it’s not going to be easy for her to shake off those feelings. I, however, never shared them. I was just trying to please her by keeping my distance from you and now there is no reason for that. I want to help you and help our family get through this. It’s not easy for me as you say, but perhaps it is a bit easier for me than it is for you because I never allowed myself to feel towards you the same way I felt about our other siblings. Maybe this isn’t the case for you and you’ve always seen me as your sister—even though, I’m sure I’ve always been your least favorite sibling—but your role in this house was never that clear for me.”

Jon let out a humorless laugh as she finished. Here she was opening her heart to him, admitting things she had never admitted to anyone, and he was laughing at her. “And what is my role now? Am I supposed to just live here as your husband? With Father, our siblings and your mother who hates me?”

“Nothing has to change in your relationship with them. You’ll be who you’ve always been to them and Mother will eventually accept it and understand. It’s only our relationship that will have to change.”

“Sansa, come on. You know I have nothing to offer you. You’ve always dreamed of having a castle of your own and of going south and I can’t give you any of that. I don’t own any lands and the best case scenario is for us to stay forever at Winterfell, while Robb rules it. If he lets us of course. Why would you want that? One thing you always disliked more than me was the possibility of spending the rest of your life in the North. You hate it here,” he told her exasperated.

“I don’t hate the North and besides, it doesn’t have to be like this. I’m sure the chance will arise and we’ll have a far more promising life than what you just described.” Sansa was confident in what she was saying in her attempt to convince him, but as she watched him looking at her skeptically, absorbing everything she had just said to him, she quickly realized her mistake the moment his eyes turned cold.

“Oh, I see what this is about. Arya told me an interesting story a few moons back about how you had been crying for days when the King had chosen the Tyrell girl for his son. You had been hoping that because King Robert was Father’s friend he would ask for your betrothal with the prince and your dreams shattered when he didn’t. And now that my parentage was revealed you got your hopes up again. This is all about you becoming a Queen, isn’t it?” he accused her and Sansa flinched at the harshness of his tone.

“Jon, it’s not—”

“If this is why you agreed, go and tell Father right now that you made a mistake and you don’t want this. I can’t believe you. We’re at the brink of war and all you can think about are bloody songs and fairy tales,” Jon seethed and Sansa felt her eyes becoming wet with tears. His words shouldn’t hurt as much as they did. She knew he was right about much of it; how stupid her dreams always were and why it seemed easier for her now to do everything that she was doing. She had never really cared about Jon’s opinion of her before, but somehow now it was different. She felt embarrassed that he was calling her out like that and that he had such a low opinion of her.

“I don’t think about songs and fairy tales. I know what’s at stake. But so what if I wanted something more for us? We wouldn’t be the ones starting the war and if we were to demand more at the end of it, our cause would be just. If we were victorious, you would be the best candidate for the Throne. You would be the rightful heir. You’re a Targaryen and it’s your birthright. Especially since King Robert’s children proved to be nothing more than Lannister bastards. I just want what’s best for you and for all of us,” Sansa defended herself as she started truly crying, her tears running freely down her face. Jon sighed at the sight of her and kneeled before her, taking her hands in his.

Good, Sansa thought to herself. He should feel bad for making me cry.

“Sansa, war is never just. It’s war. It’s bloody and it’s terrible and a crown or a throne isn’t something I would ever risk other people’s lives over. I don’t want the stupid throne. I just want us to be safe again. I don’t want to be a Targaryen. All I ever wanted was to be our Father’s son. Ned Stark’s trueborn son, like Robb and Bran and Rickon. All I ever wanted was to be a brother that you would be proud of and that you would love like you do the rest of them. But all I ever got from you in return were snarky remarks because I was a bastard. Did you even stop to think how this makes me feel? My world has been crushed. I found out that in the end I never had a father either. My real father is dead and so is my mother. I never met them. And all the jealousy and resentment I felt all these years were for nothing. Because none of this was ever mine to begin with,” Jon finished and Sansa, forgetting about her own tears, suddenly felt the need to comfort him instead and so she squeezed his hands back gently with hers.

“I know that you’re sad that Father is not really yours, but you’re still a Stark. You’re Aunt Lyanna’s son and Father promised to give you the Stark name, regardless of who your father was. Just because you’re not our Father’s son, it doesn’t make you any less of a Stark. You’re just as much a Stark as the rest of us. And perhaps he didn’t sire you but he was your father all the same, because he raised you as his own. And if we marry, in a way he’ll become your father even more so than before.”

“Sansa, I know that we were never close but still… I can’t see you as anything but my sister. This marriage will never be fruitful and it will make us both miserable.”

“I know it might feel like this in the beginning, but with time we can learn to see each other differently,” Sansa said as Jon lowered his gaze to the ground. “All I want is for us to be safe too, Jon. I don’t really care about the rest. There is no time for us to find another way. You know this is our best hope to unite everyone, while we still can, now that the Baratheons are dealing with the Lannisters. Please, just say yes,” Sansa begged and kept holding on Jon’s hands like her life depended on it. And in a way it did.

“You know that Robb and the rest of our siblings are going to be furious when they find out about this. They’re not going to accept it. And your mother. Oh, your mother…”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not their place to tell us what to do. And I’m sure they’ll be relieved when Father explains the reason. The North needs to see you for who you really are. A Northerner and a Stark and this is the easiest and most certain way to make that happen. Please, Jon. Just say yes, please…” Sansa begged once again, staring into his brown eyes with her blue ones, desperately waiting for his response.

The next few moments passed in silence and when she was ready to give up, Jon reluctantly nodded his head in agreement. “Yes,” he whispered to her and afterwards, while they hugged, Sansa felt an unprecedented relief flooding her.

Chapter Text

Jon

“What were you and Sansa doing in Father’s solar?” Arya asked, appearing out of nowhere, right after he and Sansa had parted ways in the hallway outside the room. Jon watched as his little sister kept looking suspiciously at the redhead’s retreating figure, until she finally disappeared from their view after turning a corner.

“Father needed us for something,” he answered, avoiding meeting her gaze. He couldn’t help the way his heart started beating faster; the memory of Sansa hugging him relieved for agreeing to the marriage making him nervous.

“Well, and why weren’t you with Father then? I saw him with Mother like a while ago. Were you in there with Sansa this whole time?” Arya queried, gawking at him, as if it was preposterous for Jon to be spending any time with her big sister. Well, in her defense Jon and Sansa hardly ever spent any time together and when they did, their siblings were always present. So he could agree that the both of them alone in a room for this long wasn’t the most normal thing.

“Uh...” Jon felt his mouth go dry as he tried to come up with a believable lie, but he couldn’t find any words to speak. There was no way he was ready to tell Arya the truth yet.

“Please don’t tell me she was sucking up to you because of what Father told us.”

“No, of course not,” Jon was quick to defend her, even though deep down he knew that Sansa’s motives for wanting to marry him weren’t exactly pure, and his newly revealed parentage had everything to do with it. “Father just wanted to make sure everything was alright between us. You know our relationship hasn’t always been the best and it’s important that we stay united during this difficult time,” he said and hoped Arya wouldn’t ask any more questions.

“Oh. I guess that makes sense,” Jon was relieved to hear her drop the subject as they started walking towards the yard. He was supposed to be sword fighting with Robb and Theon before his father had called for him and Sansa. So, they would probably still be there.

“You know, I’ve been thinking. Now that you’re a trueborn Targaryen, it means you’re more important than any of us. Do you think that you could ride a dragon like Aegon the Conqueror, if they still existed?” Arya asked and sounded really excited about it.

“I sincerely doubt it,” he replied and then saw the way Arya’s face fell.

“I always wanted to be like Visenya,” she confessed and sighed deeply. It was weird for Jon to hear her say that. If he had a choice, he wouldn’t be a Targaryen at all. But Arya, just like Sansa, had always been fascinated by the Targaryens. For completely different reasons of course. Arya had always loved the war stories about the dragons and the dragonriders and Sansa had always loved the romantic stories, like the one about Queen Naerys and Aemon the Dragonknight. Even if they never spent much time together, he remembered that.

“You know that the fact I’m a Targaryen also means I’m not really your brother, right?” Jon asked. He was confused as to why something like this would make Arya happy. The two of them had always shared a deep bond and Jon for his part had been crestfallen to learn that they weren’t actual siblings. Especially when it came to her and Robb.

“Don’t be silly, Jon. You’ll always be my brother and I know for a fact that Robb and the others agree with me. For us nothing has changed and I hope you feel the same way. Now, I can’t swear for Sansa, but you know how she is,” Arya said, and Jon almost missed his step at the mention of his wife to be. He knew exactly how Sansa felt about it, but at least he knew he could count on the rest of his siblings for support. He only hoped that his marriage with the redhead wouldn’t ruin his relationship with the others.

“I know you were too shocked to pay any attention to anything else that was happening while Father was talking to us that day, confessing the truth, but you should have seen her face. I thought her eyes were going to burst out of their sockets from the way they bulged. I’m so happy she’ll never get to insult you again. And if she ever makes fun of either of us, you’ll be able to just put her in her place,” Arya told him gleefully and Jon found himself wanting to defend her again. The knowledge that sooner or later he was going to marry her was already changing him. Before, he never would have tried to make excuses for her whenever Arya was complaining about her; which was often.

“Come on. Sansa has never been that mean to me or you,” he said lamely, knowing exactly what a lie that was—mostly when it came to Arya—causing a deep frown to appear on the brunette’s face just as they reached the yard.

“Yes, she has. Why are you defending her? She’s always been mean to both of us and especially you. Always referring to you as her half-brother and never giving you a second thought because to her you were a bastard. Even Robb knows that, although he’s always defending her himself. Isn’t that right, big brother?” Arya asked, looking expectantly at the oldest of the Stark children.

“What are we talking about?” Robb asked, walking towards them with Theon in tow, after having just stopped their sword practice.

“Sansa and how she’s always horrible to Jon,” Arya clarified. Jon wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

“Can you really blame her?” Theon murmured and immediately shut up when he received a glare from all three of them.

“Why? Did she say something to you?” Robb queried with a worried look on his face as he turned his attention to Jon.

“No, of course not,” Jon replied quickly, lowering his eyes to the ground, finding a sudden interest in his boots.

“She didn’t say something now, but we were speaking generally,” Arya explained.

 “She’s just always trying not to upset Mother. She doesn’t really mean anything by it. You do know she loves you too, don’t you?” Jon could feel Robb’s intense gaze on his person as he said that and he knew his face and ears were already turning red as a result, so he cowardly kept staring at his feet.

“Now that both her and Mother know the truth, it will be easier for her to show that affection, I’m sure of it,” Robb reassured him then and Jon, knowing his brother did that only because he had sensed his uneasiness, nodded. If only he knew the real reason behind his reaction, Robb wouldn’t be trying to comfort him.

“And you, little lady, stop complaining about our sister all the time. You know she loves you as well,” his brother stated, finally turning his attention back to Arya and away from Jon, letting him breathe air again. He was sure that when Robb found out, he would kill him.

“Whatever… Can I practice with you guys?”

“Absolutely not. Jon, you coming?” Robb asked and Jon nodded again reluctantly, while Arya started whining next to him. Today was going to be a difficult day.

˜*˜

At dinner, everyone was surprised to see Sansa take the free seat next to Jon instead of her usual one next to Robb or Jeyne Poole, after she entered the Great Hall. Jon knew why she was doing it and as he felt her hand squeeze his under the table, he could almost ignore all the strange gazes coming their way. He desperately needed to believe that what she had told him was true and everything would be okay, but he had trouble trusting her. Her very motives when it came to their union were still worrisome to him. He could only hope she wouldn’t try anything stupid to fulfill them in the future.

Tonight was the night his father would announce their betrothal and it was going to be hell. Luckily for him, uncle Benjen, who had always been on his side, was also here and if the smile he was trying to hide behind his wine cup, when their eyes had met, was anything to go by, he already knew of what was going to unfold and he seemed to have no problem with it. In fact, Jon was willing to bet his uncle was also excitedly waiting for all the fainting and yelling to start. The drama in their family had always amused him.

As a Night’s Watch Ranger, Benjen Stark had seen some serious stuff and he was always reserved and solemn, except for when he was surrounded by his family. The younger children’s innocence and Arya’s mischief had always brought a smile on his face. They all loved their uncle Ben and he loved all of them back just as deeply, and his presence during this dinner was something that definitely gave Jon courage. At least until his eyes met Lady Stark’s.

Her icy glare told him all he needed to know. The moment her blue eyes that were so much like Sansa’s locked onto his, he could tell she already knew as well and he felt all his courage escaping his body, causing him to withdraw his hand from Sansa’s like it was on fire. Although he felt his sister’s hurt gaze on him, he didn’t dare to look back at her or explain, but instead, taking a nearby pitcher, he filled his wine cup and then drank it all down, like he was a man dying of thirst.

The evening continued in pretty much the same way. Jon kept drinking like it was his last day on earth, without ever opening his mouth to speak to anyone and Sansa kept sulking next to him, avoiding all contact as well. His eyes had caught Robb’s worried gaze a few times, while his brother was talking to Theon, but he always just gave him a shrug in response and went back to drinking.

Arya—although she was mostly engrossed in conversation with their two little brothers—did the same as Robb, but every time her eyes drifted towards the redhead and turned hard made Jon aware of what his little sister was probably thinking. That he was brooding because he was stuck sitting alone next to Sansa. Fortunately, his father didn’t pay him any mind, and if he did, he already knew the reason behind Jon’s odd behavior and let it go, being too busy discussing about the Lannisters and the Baratheons with uncle Benjen, Ser Rodrik Cassel and his nephew Jory, as well as the rest of the guests. Jon was certain that the reason all of them were here was because of what his lord father meant to announce later.

The strangest of the looks he got all night, however, didn’t belong to a member of his family. They belonged to none other than Jeyne Poole. Jeyne was Sansa’s best friend and never while he had been growing up had she paid any attention to him. But of course, why would she have? He had been no one but a bastard and she was too much like Sansa to see past that and so she had only ever looked like that at Robb or even Theon. However, now that she knew of his parentage, she seemed to have changed her ways. Every time he had caught her looking at him, there was always a warm smile on her lips, while she playfully stared at him, sometimes hiding behind her drink or other times playing absently with her curls.

If only things were so simple and he had to marry Jeyne instead of Sansa. Even though Jeyne was just as stuck-up as she was, at least they weren’t siblings. Jon would marry her in a heartbeat if it meant he could avoid marrying someone whom he grew up thinking of as his sister. So, in his drunken state, he had no problem returning some of those smiles and glances and if Sansa noticed, he couldn’t tell, because he purposely kept his eyes away from her face. He already knew she was disappointed in his behavior; he didn’t need to see how angry she really was.

After a long time had passed and the evening was finally drawing to a close, Jon chanced a glance towards his father, who was sitting at the head of the table. The Lord of Winterfell, meeting his gaze, gave him a reassuring smile and then got up and demanded everyone’s attention.

“I know some of you are still struggling with what I revealed to you a few days ago and I also know you’re aware of what this revelation has caused. When he’s done with the Lannisters, King Robert’s wrath will follow the North and our family. You must be sure of that. He’s always been obsessed with what happened to Lyanna and he’s not going to forgive me. He thinks I betrayed him. He wants Jon dead and he’ll try everything to get his way,” his father said and looked at everyone’s worried faces. Lady Stark was the only one who didn’t match their expressions and Jon knew it was not because she wasn’t worried, but because she knew where this speech was headed.

His father had told him that she was having a hard time forgiving him for not trusting her in the first place and keeping it a secret from her for all these years. And Jon knew that the truth hadn’t really changed the way she looked at him. He could only imagine how she was feeling now that his father was planning on marrying her daughter off to him.

He could see it every time their eyes would meet how terrified she was of what this might mean for her family. She was worried for Robb’s place and the rest of her trueborn children’s place. She knew that in the end, Jon was more highborn than any of them. If Rhaegar Targaryen hadn’t lost and died at the battle of the Trident, Jon would have grown up as a prince, because—just like his real father—he was the blood of the dragon, even if Jon wished he had never learned the truth or that he could forget. In any case, he could tell that Lady Stark had no desire to see her daughter wedded to him. Well, that made two of them.

“This is why it is necessary that when the time comes and Robert does turn on us, we, the North, are united. Most of the lords have expressed doubt, regarding Jon and his loyalties. They’re wary of having a Targaryen among them. Because, even though many years ago I claimed Jon as my own and made him a Snow, the truth is that he is indeed a trueborn Targaryen,” Ned confessed and without realizing it, Jon was the one reaching for Sansa’s hand under the table now, surprising her. He knew what was coming and it wasn’t Winter they needed to worry about.

“So, I plan to remove any doubt in their minds by giving Jon the Stark name,” his father announced and Jon could hear people gasp around the table. Suddenly, Lady Stark’s icy stare returned to him, making Jon wish he could vanish. The good thing was that when he looked at the faces of his siblings and the rest of the people attending dinner, he only saw approval but also confusion at what Ned was saying.

“This is great, my Lord. But how do you plan to do this? You need the King’s approval to legitimize Jon as a Stark, even if we all know he’s not a Snow. And I’m sure Robert Baratheon isn’t going to be willing,” came Ser Rodrik Cassel’s voice from where he was sitting near his father, turning everyone’s attention to him.  

“No, I cannot do this without the King’s approval, but there are other ways for someone to change their name. Marriage has always been one of the best ways to make alliances and Jon is old enough to wed. However, the same way the other Northern lords don’t trust Jon, I don’t trust them with his life either. I’m not going to betroth him to a girl from another House and risk them turning on us and handing him over to Robert. This is why I’ve decided that Jon must marry within our own House and therefore take the Stark name,” his father said, and if they had been surprised before, now they all looked shocked.

“What do you mean, Father?” Robb asked as he got up from his seat, expressing everyone’s confusion who kept whispering around the table. All except for Lady Stark, who was just looking between Jon and Sansa, unable to hide her disapproval, and Theon Greyjoy who seemed to know exactly where his lord father was going with this. Theon had always prided himself for being the last living son of Balon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands, and had always made fun of Jon for being a Snow. But in reality, Theon had always wished of being a Stark and Robb’s real brother. And Jon knew by the way Theon kept glaring daggers at him that the reason he picked up on his father’s meaning so fast was because in the past, he had considered the possibility of marrying Sansa himself. Strangely, the realization made Jon want to hold onto Sansa’s hand even tighter.

“How can Jon possibly marry within our own House? We don’t have any cousins for him to marry. Uncle Benjen has no children and we have no other relatives bearing the Stark name.”

 “No, Benjen has no daughters for Jon to marry, but I do. I have two daughters and they’re both Jon’s cousins. And one of them is old enough to be betrothed to him,” his father said and the moment he did all eyes turned to look at him and Sansa and if Jon had thought Lady Stark’s hateful glare was bad, it was the look of betrayal and disgust he saw on Robb and Arya’s faces that hurt him the most.

“WHAT?! Father, you can’t be serious! Jon and Sansa? No way!” Arya screamed as she got up as well, letting everyone know of how she felt about it.

“Arya, please sit down,” his lord father tried to calm her down, but before anyone had a chance to react, Arya was out of her seat and was attacking Sansa, grabbing her from her hair and dragging her out of Jon’s grasp as well as her seat at the table.

“You manipulative bitch! Now that you know how important Jon is, you want to take him for yourself, when you always hated him. You did this! You did this!” Arya accused and kept pulling Sansa’s hair, while Sansa was crying and screaming. Jon and Robb were both on them immediately, trying to separate them, but Arya had a strong grip on her sister’s hair and was unwilling to let go.

“Arya, stop right now!” his father yelled from the other side of the table, but still Arya did not listen. Jory Cassel joined then in the attempt to separate the sisters, while the rest stared at the scene frozen in place. It was only when Arya managed to pull out a large lock of Sansa’s hair and the redhead screamed in pain that Robb and Jory managed to pull Arya back. Arya, who was left staring at the hair in her hand, only now realizing what she had done, while Sansa crumbled in Jon’s arms, crying and holding her head, which was now bleeding from the spot her sister had violently pulled her hair from.

“Robb, take Arya to her room. Now!” his father ordered, losing his patience and Robb following his order, took Arya—who had now gone slack in his arms, still staring at the red hair in her hand—out of the Great Hall, giving one last glare towards Jon, who stood frozen with his arms around Sansa, while she kept crying silently with her face buried in his chest. From pain, from embarrassment, Jon didn’t know; maybe a little bit of both.

“Someone check on Sansa,” his father commanded and fell back on his chair, sighing deeply, only to receive a glare from Lady Stark, as she stood up to get to her daughter.

“I think you’ve done enough,” she told Jon angrily, pulling Sansa away from him, just in time for Maester Luwin to come to their aid and inspect Sansa’s head. Sansa, who had now taken refuge in her lady mother’s arms.

“It’s not that bad. We will clean the blood from the wound and it will be fine. The bleeding is already stopping,” the Maester said and Jon let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Well, to Jon and Sansa’s betrothal! I hope the wedding is half as eventful,” came Benjen Stark’s amused voice then, raising his cup in the air before winking at Jon and drinking down a long swallow. Jon could do nothing but stand there in defeat.

Chapter Text

Sansa

Sansa could still feel her scalp burning at the spot where Arya had pulled her hair from earlier and she kept trembling, while she lay on top of the furs of her bed. She was angry with her sister and with everyone else who hadn’t defended her. Yes, they had pulled Arya off of her, but only after she had managed to rip her hair out of her head. And then no one had said anything in her defense about the cruel things Arya had said to her. Not even Jon. Jon had just stood there like an idiot and had seemed to care more about Arya and how she was reacting and feeling than protecting and defending Sansa.

Is that what they all think of me? How they all see me? As a manipulative bitch, who’s always hated Jon and only turned to him when it suited her?

Isn’t that exactly what you did though? A little voice wondered inside her head, but Sansa immediately denied it. Arya could be right about a lot of things, but she was wrong about this. Sansa had never hated Jon and she would never let anyone accuse her of that. The reason she had agreed to this match was first and foremost to protect him and that was the only truth. No one had the right to tell her that she didn’t care about Jon.

Even if Jon himself doesn’t believe me, she thought to herself and it made her shudder, feeling fresh tears coming to her eyes.

The night had been nothing but terrible. When she had entered the Great Hall, she had been hopeful, despite also feeling a little insecure. She had anticipated that her siblings wouldn’t take the news kindly, but she had never thought she would get attacked for it and most importantly, she had never expected Jon would simply stand by and let it happen.

Jon had been awful to her during the entire evening. She had come to him, thinking they were together in this, but it hadn’t been long before he had proved her wrong. From the moment she had first seen him sitting by himself, away from their other siblings, she had known how terrified he must have been feeling and so -ignoring Jeyne Poole’s wave, inviting her to sit beside her like usual- she had chosen the empty seat next to Jon, getting disbelieving looks from everyone around her for her trouble and especially that of her friend’s, who had looked at her like she had suddenly grown two heads.

Sansa hadn’t minded, however, because Jon’s well-being was far more important than any look Jeyne Poole could give her. Soon, they were going to be married and Jon would become the most important person in her life and she had wanted him to know that she could be that person for him too, when she had taken his hand in hers. But before she even had had a chance to speak to him and see how he was doing, he had pulled his hand from hers like she had offended him by merely trying to be supportive. Instead of comforting him, she had managed to somehow anger him even more and then he had started drinking, like he had had no other way of coping and had ignored her for the rest of dinner. During said dinner -as if all of that hadn’t been enough already- he had kept exchanging flirty smiles and glances with Jeyne, leaving Sansa feeling utterly humiliated.

Sansa knew Jeyne had only been doing it to punish her for ignoring her by proving her that Jon had more interest in her than he had in Sansa, who had been sitting right next to him, and although she thought it was cruel and she didn’t deserve it, she could find it in her heart to forgive her, because her friend had had no idea about the betrothal yet. Jon, however, had knowingly flirted with her, even though Sansa had been right there and she could see everything.

Is this what it’s going to be like? she asked herself, but then her mind provided her with the image of Jon holding her hand under the table, right when their lord father had been about to announce their betrothal.

Maybe it doesn’t have to. Maybe there’s still hope. I can make him learn to love me and only me, she decided, wiping her tears off her face, as a knock was suddenly heard upon her door.

“Who is it?” she asked, trying to make herself presentable. She had already embarrassed herself enough for one night. She wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction to see her still upset and in tears.

“It’s me. Robb. May I come in?” came her brother’s voice from the other side of her chamber’s door, making her heart race.

“Come in,” she replied after a moment of hesitation, as she sat upright at the edge of her bed.

She was scared to look at him, when Robb opened the door and stepped inside, but after a while of no talk or movement, she finally found the courage to look at him and was met with a pair of sad blue eyes, instead of the angry ones she expected. Robb, sighing deeply, closed the door behind him then and walked slowly to her bed, sitting next to her, as they both stared at the floor instead of each other.

“Are you alright?” he asked after another moment of silence.

“Sure,” she answered and Robb sighed again, burying his face in his hands. She didn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but it was a stupid question considering everything that had happened that night.

“I’m sorry about what Arya did. She shouldn’t have-”

“Shouldn’t she be the one apologizing right now instead of you?” Sansa asked exasperated, interrupting him and Robb, letting his hands drop in his lap, turned to look at her.

“You have to understand how difficult this is for all of us to stomach. I can’t… Sansa, how could you and Jon possibly agree to this? It’s insane. I just… I can’t wrap my head around this. How would you feel, if I were to tell you that Arya and I were getting married?”

“Robb, don’t be ridiculous. It’s not the same thing. Arya and you are siblings.”

“And you and Jon aren’t?” he asked and this time he sounded angry.

“No, we’re not. We’re cousins and cousins get married all the time.”

“Sansa, please don’t try to sell me the same story Father sold us earlier. You and Jon are not cousins. You are his sister, the same way you are mine and he is your brother, the same way I am yours. I don’t care, if he’s a fucking Targaryen. This changes nothing.”

“Yes, it does. It changes the fact he’s no longer safe. It changes the fact that the North’s allegiance to our House is hanging by a thread. Our own lives are at stake,” she yelled, meeting his eyes that were full of anger just like hers.

“And you somehow think that you marrying our brother will change that? Sansa you don’t have to sacrifice yourself for this shit. We’ll find another way,” Robb pleaded and took her hands in his own.

“I’m not sacrificing myself. I want this,” she said then, but couldn’t meet his eyes. Robb would never let them go through with it, if he knew how they both really felt. How he already knew they felt. He had always been overprotective of her and he loved Jon dearly to let them end up in a loveless and fruitless marriage with each other. So, she was going to have to convince him that what he knew was not the truth. Even if that made him feel sicker than he already felt. Because even if Robb didn’t want to admit it, this was their best hope to survive.

“Please, I know you are not the person Arya claimed you to be earlier. You are far too kind and romantic to be this manipulative. You can’t possibly want to marry him just because he’s a Targaryen. That name is more a curse than a blessing. You know it is.”

“Maybe you’re right and it is. Although, I won’t say it didn’t cross my mind, especially because I’m such a romantic as you say. I always loved the songs and love stories around the Targaryens. But that’s not the reason I agreed to marry him. I did it, because I love him.”

“Of course you do. He’s our brother. But I already told you, we’ll find another way. You don’t need to marry him to protect him and our family.”

“No, you don’t understand. It’s not what I meant.”

“And what did you mean then?” Robb asked exasperated, letting go of her hands.

“I love him the way a woman loves a man. I think I’ve been falling for him for some time now,” she said and then chanced a look at Robb, who was just staring at her blankly, without uttering a word. She could barely hear him breathe.

“I… I think I might have started having these feelings even before Father told us the truth of his parentage. I just didn’t know how to interpret them then, because he was my brother, even if only half. He was always so infuriating and I was always trying to keep my distance from him and I think deep inside I always knew why, but didn’t want to admit it. I know you thought it was only because of Mother, but there was more to it than that. When Father told us the truth, I felt such relief and immediately I knew the reason.”

“Sansa, you can’t mean that,” Robb said in a low voice and looked as if he was going to throw up any moment now.

“I do mean it. I’m sorry. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth.”

“And what about Jon? How does he feel?”

“All I know is that Jon agreed to it, so you’d better not interfere. It’s a done deal. We both wish to wed, so you have to let us. It won’t feel this odd forever, I promise.”

“So, you want what happened tonight with Arya to keep happening for the rest of your days then?”

“Honestly, I couldn’t care less about how Arya feels. She has always despised me and now she’s just jealous that she’s gonna have to share Jon with me. She’ll get over it. What I care about is you. I need you to understand and to support me,” Sansa said as she turned to look at him with pleading eyes.

Robb sighed deeply then and once more buried his face in his hands, which were shaking.

“Why are you doing this to me? Do you know what you’re asking?”

“Yes. I’m asking you to be my brother and help me. Be there for me and not turn against me. Gods know everyone else is. Please, Robb. I have to marry Jon. It’s the only way I know I can protect him.”

“Sansa, I could barely accept the idea of you two having a marriage just in name, but that is a hell lot different than what you want. Being in love with him means you want a real marriage.”

“What I want and what I’ll get are two completely different things. Jon, even though he agreed, doesn’t feel the same way. So, if all I can get is him safe by my side, I’ll take it. Even if it’s a marriage in name only. I will know that I did everything to protect my beloved and the rest of my family. Please, don’t resent me and don’t be angry at Jon. Help me, Robb. You’re the only one I can count on,” Sansa said and her sad eyes met Robb’s conflicted ones.

“All I can promise is that I will try. Right now the thought is unbearable to me,” he told her after a few moments of silence.

“It’s all I ask,” Sansa said back, placing her hand on his shoulder. Robb patted her hand with his own and smiled sadly at her.

“Whatever happens, know that I will always have your back, even if I never wrap my head around this.”

“I love you, Robb.”

“I love you, too,” Robb said and hugged her, as Sansa let a couple of silent tears fall from her eyes. Before he said it, she had no idea how much she had needed to hear it. Robb had always been her biggest ally and now that she knew he would support her, even if he didn’t agree, she could breathe air again and somehow she knew that everything would be alright.

˜*˜

Jon

“Arya?” Jon called his little sister’s name for the fifth time, knocking tiredly on her chamber’s door, while resting his forehead on the wood. The events of the night had been enough to sober him up, but had also drained him both physically and mentally, as had being on edge all day, waiting for the time of the announcement to come.

“GO AWAY!” Arya yelled from inside her room, acknowledging him for the first time and making Jon sigh in frustration.

“I won’t leave until you open this door. I need to talk to you. Please-” Jon started pleading, when suddenly the door flew open and he was met with Arya’s furious gaze as he attempted to regain his balance, which he was thrown off.

“What do you want, traitor?” she asked with a venomous look on her face. Jon had never seen this side of Arya and he had never thought he would ever be on the receiving end of his little sister’s glaring eyes. He had always been her favorite brother and she his favorite sister and watching the anger and disappointment in her eyes hurt him deeply.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re angry with me, but I need to explain. It wasn’t an easy decision, Arya, but Father thinks it’s the best way. Sansa and I-”

“So now it’s Sansa and you,” she said and Jon felt heat rising to his face, as he looked at both sides of the corridor. If they stayed here anyone could hear them.

“May I come inside? Please…” he asked, looking at her with pleading eyes, until she moved aside, letting out an irritated huff of breath and let him enter, closing the door behind them.

“How could you, Jon? She’s our sister and even if she wasn’t, she’s Sansa. I think that’s enough reason for you to never want anything to do with her.”

“You’re being too hard on her. She’s only trying to help and do as Father says and so do I. It’s not something we want, Arya, but something we must do to protect our family. I’ve put you all in danger and Father gave me a way to make it better and I took it. As for Sansa, she’s only doing her duty. You shouldn’t have attacked her like that. You hurt her and I’m not just talking about the hair you pulled out,” Jon said and at his words Arya looked guiltily at the floor.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her like that, but I was so enraged. Robb said I shouldn’t blame her for everything and that you’re just as responsible for this as she is. And he’s right. I’m so mad at both of you, but I’m used to being angry at her and it was all I could think in that moment.”

“You should apologize to her. She didn’t deserve your reaction.”

“Fine, tell her I’m sorry then.”

“No, you must do it, yourself.”

“Whatever,” Arya said and paused, before she chanced a look at Jon again.

“Is she alright?” she asked, biting her lip anxiously.

“I don’t know. Her head is fine, but I haven’t seen her since the incident. Lady Stark took her away and I didn’t dare look for her. I know I should have, but I didn’t want to anger your lady mother more than I already had,” Jon answered and he looked defeated. He still didn’t know how to handle the whole thing with Lady Stark. Even if he and Sansa could find a way to coexist as a couple, he was certain that her mother would never accept him as her daughter’s husband.

“Robb said that he would check on her. I’m sure he’ll calm her down. And even though I really don’t want to, I promise to apologize to her tomorrow,” Arya said hurriedly, as if she sensed his turmoil.

“Is Mother giving you a hard time?” she asked then and looked sorry for him.

“Well, the same way you blamed Sansa, Lady Stark blames me… only worse. I don’t think she has it in her heart to forgive me. She thinks I’m responsible for everything that’s happening and I don’t blame her. She’s right.”

“No, Jon. You did nothing wrong… Well, except for agreeing to marry Sansa,” Arya said, annoyance returning to her face, but before long her expression changed again back to worry.

“Do you think Father is right? Is this really the best way to protect you?” she asked and as much as Jon wanted to deny it, after thinking it over and over again in his head and trying to come up with a different plan ever since he had agreed to it, he had no choice but to nod his head in agreement, as Arya let a frustrated sigh escape her lips.

“What is it going to be like from now on? I can’t believe I will have to share you with Sansa of all people. I was always your favorite the same way Sansa was Robb’s and I was okay with that. But now she gets to have you both. It’s not fair,” Arya whined and Jon, trying to comfort her, moved forward and took her in his arms.

“You’ll always be my favorite. Marriage or no marriage that will never change. Sansa can barely tolerate me and I her. This will be a marriage in name only. Nothing will change. I promise,” he said and kissed the top of her head, feeling Arya’s body relax in his embrace.

“Are you sure? Have you talked about this with Sansa? Did she agree? I mean, getting married is all she’s ever dreamed of,” Arya asked, searching the lie in his eyes.

“I’m sure. We both feel the same way. We’re only doing it for the family. This marriage is a farce, so you don’t need to worry your pretty little head anymore,” Jon assured her and he meant every word, because he couldn’t even begin to comprehend the situation being any different from that.

“I’m sorry I doubted you. I never should have acted like this. I love you, Jon,” Arya said and a contented smile was formed on her face.

“I love you too, sis,” Jon said back, hugging her tighter to his body and just for one moment, everything was right again in the world.

Chapter Text

Sansa

It was still dark, when Sansa finally decided to get out of bed and start her day. She knew that it was too early for anyone to be awake, since the sun hadn’t even risen yet, but she couldn’t stand another moment of shifting and turning in her bed. The events of the previous day, even though they had left her drained, they had also made her restless and so after Robb’s visit, she had spent the rest of the night, lying awake under her furs and contemplating everything that had happened.

Jon had naturally been the main reason for her restlessness, as his behavior and her lie to Robb about him had kept circling her mind. While she had been with her brother and after she had told him about her feelings for Jon, they had both heard him calling Arya’s name and probably pounding on her little sister’s door. At the sound of Jon’s voice, an awkward silence had spread between her and Robb and soon after, her brother had wished her good night and had left her chambers.

It had been obvious that both she and Robb had thought that if Jon was looking for Arya, he would soon come looking for Sansa as well. And even though Robb had been itching to have a fight with Jon before -since he had thought Jon was the one mainly responsible for what was happening- after her revelation, avoiding him had been all he seemed to have wanted. Robb had looked pale at the prospect of facing his brother in his sister’s chambers, after everything she had told him and even though Sansa understood his discomfort and sympathized with him, she couldn’t help but hope that one day, her and Jon could learn to care for one another, even if it wasn’t as man and wife.

But Jon had never come and that had only served to make her angrier.

Of course Jon would look to comfort sweet little Arya, but apparently showing any kind of interest in his future wife is at the bottom of his list of priorities, thought Sansa bitterly as she started putting her cloak over her night rail.

She wasn’t in the mood to get properly dressed yet, since no one would be awake to see her anyway. So, she decided to just put on her cloak and shoes and head for the Godswood. If sleep didn’t want to come and rid her of her uneasiness, perhaps praying to the Gods would. Then she would return to her chambers to bathe and change and afterwards she would seek her family in the Great Hall to break her fast with them. Surely they would be all awake by then.

It was only later when she finally reached the heart tree that she wondered why she had chosen to come here to pray instead of the Sept. Perhaps she was subconsciously trying to get closer to Jon, who had never shown any love for the New Gods, but only ever prayed to the Gods the children of the forest of Old Nan’s stories had once worshiped, just like her lord father. Sansa knew Jon came daily to pray under the heart tree and she thought the Old Gods would be the best to answer her prayers, since they already knew all of Jon’s secrets. If they could see Sansa’s pure intentions towards Jon, perhaps they would help her gain his affections.

Please, let him see I truly care about him, was all she kept thinking as she knelt at the bottom of the tree between the large white roots that were spreading on the ground.

I’ll be a good wife to him. I know we’ve never been close and that I have even been mean to him in the past, but all I want is for him to be safe. Help me save our family, save him. Please, protect him from the King’s wrath. He is not responsible for anything he’s being accused of. He’s just a boy that was born out of love. His parents’ crimes are not his fault. Help the rest of the North see that and how kind and loyal he really is. If he gives us a chance I know we can be happy together. This doesn’t have to be a farce. I do want to have a real marriage with him. To give him children. I know I lied to Robb when I told him I was in love with Jon, but one day I really want to be.  Please, bless us both. Bless our union, she prayed and as she did, a cold wind blew and it was only then she felt the tears that were quickly drying on her face, making her skin get even colder. However, she didn’t try to wipe them away. Instead, she let herself welcome the wind on her face and her hair and felt as if it was the Gods who were answering her prayers through the rustling of the heart tree’s red leaves.

She was entranced by the sounds of the Godswood around her and the feeling of the wind through her hair and on her body. Although she was so close to the base of the tree and was mostly covered by its roots and its trunk, the wind was so strong that it almost uncloaked her, making her body shiver and her nipples harden beneath her thin night rail, but Sansa was hardly bothered. On the contrary, she felt bliss at that moment. A bliss that she hadn’t felt in a long time, if she had ever even felt it at all. So, as the wind kept blowing, she found herself lying even closer to the tree, right under the long and melancholic carved face of one of the Old Gods and before she knew it, her eyes shut and sweet sleep claimed her tired body.

˜*˜

Jon

Jon had no idea what it was that had made him wake up, but he decided it was probably for the best. His sleep had been full of strange dreams that did nothing to help him forget his thoughts and dull his fears, but had left him feeling even more tired and drained than before. It was still very early in the morning, the sun only now rising on the horizon, and his headache was coming back with a vengeance, making him regret every single drop of wine he had had at dinner.

As he sat upright on his bed, dragging his feet lazily from under the covers to the ground and trying hard and failing to ignore the stabbing pains inside his head, he felt a cool breeze on his naked torso and his face, moving his curls out of his eyes, and for the first time since he had come to his chambers the previous night to sleep, he noticed that his window was wide open.

That made him pause for a moment, because he clearly remembered the window being closed, but then again he couldn’t really trust his last night’s inebriated brain to provide him with the truth and so he stopped thinking too much about it, as the hair on his body stood on end from the cold and moved to shut the window, as fast as his tired body allowed.

Right when he was about to, however, a howling wolf caught his attention. It sounded as if it was in pain and Jon listening carefully, realized that the sounds were coming from the Godswood. But that was impossible. How had a wolf entered the Godswood, when there were walls all around? It was insane and yet there was no mistaking that the howling was indeed coming from there. On the spur of the moment and without knowing what possessed him, Jon started putting on his clothes, forgetting all about his aching head, and before long he was out of his chambers and on his way to the Godswood.

˜*˜

The wolf had stopped howling, but Jon could feel he was getting closer, because even though the last of the wolf’s howls had sounded weak, they had also sounded like they were coming from somewhere very near him and when he finally reached the heart tree, he knew he had been right to believe so.

A large direwolf, the first Jon had ever seen, was sprawled across the ground in front of Winterfell’s weirwood heart tree, right next to the pool, with its gray fur dripping with red blood from where a stag’s antler was coming out of its body. He didn’t have to get closer to know that the wolf was already dead, but he knelt down carefully all the same next to the beast and ran his hand through its thick fur.

It was only when a whining sound was heard that Jon dragged his eyes away from the direwolf and looked behind him and from the sight alone, his heart almost stopped beating. Fear gripped him as he watched Sansa lying pale under the heart tree, between the roots, with small direwolf pups surrounding her unresponsive body.

For a moment, he just stood there watching in horror, but quickly he came back to his senses and ran to her, taking her body in his arms.

“Sansa… Sansa, wake up! Talk to me! Come on, open your eyes, sweetling!” he kept saying, as he touched her face and then checked her body for any traumas. Her skin was freezing cold, but thankfully there were not any obvious injuries on her person and Jon soon felt her heart beating slowly but surely inside her chest as she shallowly breathed through her nose.

“Sansa, come back to me! Wake up!” Jon urged her, after he took off his cloak and covered her with it, trying his best to warm her up and stay calm enough to help her. But the longer she remained unresponsive the more afraid he became, until suddenly, he saw Sansa’s eyes slowly fluttering open and meeting his own.

Jon could cry from joy at that moment, but he only gripped her tighter to his body, burying her face in his chest, as the little direwolves around them looked at them curiously, while they kept making what sounded like distressed noises.

“Jon,” Sansa murmured then, moving her face upwards, nuzzling his neck with her cold nose, but warming him with her breath.

“I’m right here. It’s alright. You’re alright,” he reassured her, while he kept running his hands up and down her back to help her get warm, but it felt as if he was trying to convince himself more than he did her.

“What happened?” she asked, almost whispering, and she sounded confused.

“You tell me. What in seven hells were you doing out here so early with so little clothing on? Were you trying to freeze yourself to death?” he asked her in return and without meaning to do it, his voice came out a little harsh.

“No... I… I just wanted to pray, but I must have fallen asleep,” she answered and although he couldn’t see her face, Jon could still hear her teeth chattering from the cold. She was definitely going to be sick after this. He couldn’t wrap his mind around why she had come here to pray so early in the morning. The sun had only just risen when he had come here himself and she had been in the Godswood long before he had. And what was she doing praying in the Godswood anyway? He had never seen her praying anywhere but the Sept and now she had just happened to start praying in front of the heart tree at this ungodly hour?

“Do you feel any pain?” he asked her then bringing his lips to her forehead to check her temperature, despite being already aware of her cold skin all over.

“I’m so cold,” she replied and just buried her face even deeper in his neck.

“Can you hold onto me? I’ll take you back to the castle.”

Sansa did not reply but only wrapped her arms around his neck, after Jon felt her nodding against him, and so, after placing one arm on her back and the other under her knees, he picked her up. As he stood on his legs, her weight was light on his arms and quickly, with steady steps, he started moving through the Godswood.

To his amazement, the little direwolf pups started following them back to the castle, leaving their dead mother behind and before long, one of them, an albino, with fur white as snow and eyes red as blood, came to his front and started leading the way, as the rest kept running beside him from each side. Right then, Jon knew that these direwolves were a blessing from the Gods and bringing him to Sansa was the only reason they had made it to the Godswood. If it wasn’t for them, he never would have found her in time and things could have been a lot worse for her. He couldn’t even bear to imagine how much worse. So, he swore to anyone that was listening that he would personally see to all the pups’ care and that he would not let them have the fate of their mother. But as he kept walking behind the silent white one, while the rest of them kept whining on each side, he already knew which would be his favorite.

˜*˜

Sansa

Sansa woke up slowly to the blurry image of her bed’s familiar canopy. She tried to bring her hand to her face and rub the sleep from her eyes, but she felt her arms being confined by heavy furs that were tucked carefully at her sides.

Without looking to see if there was anyone around, she found herself calling for Jon, since he was the last person she had seen before she had fallen asleep again. The last thing she could remember was him carrying her through the Godswood back to the castle and then nothing more.

However, it wasn’t Jon’s voice that came as an answer to her call, but Arya’s.

“Sorry to disappoint, but it’s just me,” her little sister said from her seat next to her bed and Sansa tried to sit upright, fighting off the dizziness that was clouding her senses.

“Don’t get up. You’re still very weak,” Arya told her as she rushed to her side and pushed her gently back down.

“Where is Jon? Is it noon already? How long have I been asleep?” she asked in a voice hoarse from disuse as she focused her gaze on Arya, only now noticing that she had been embroidering by her bed. Which was even stranger than her little sister being in her chambers, watching over her while she slept and that was saying something, since Arya never seemed to want to spend any time with her, but always favored the company of their brothers. But even so, it was embroidering she hated the most and for good reason. She had always been terrible at it. If anyone asked Sansa, she would say Arya’s embroidering skills were a lost cause.

“It depends. What’s the last thing you remember?” Arya asked her in return instead of answering, annoying Sansa.

“Why are you here? Did you finally come to apologize?” She asked back, leaving Arya’s question unanswered as well. She was expecting her sister to throw a fit at her words, like usual, but Arya only gave her a questioning look.

“No, seriously, what’s the last thing you remember?” Arya asked for a second time, making Sansa start feeling uneasy. Why was that so important? How long had she slept for?

“I was at the Godswood praying and then Jon found me and brought me back here, the morning after you attacked me like a wild animal, which you still haven’t apologized for. That’s the last thing I remember.”

“I didn’t know it was possible, but getting your moonblood has made you even crankier than before. Theon was right about something for once,” Arya said and it did nothing to help with the uneasiness Sansa was feeling. Slowly she was starting to panic.

“What are you talking about?” she asked in a shaky voice and for the first time Arya looked sorry for her.

“You’ve been sick for almost eight days now with high fever. You’ve been delirious, falling in and out of sleep for days, until Maester Luwin managed to bring your fever down late last night. Everyone has been really worried about you. Mother never left your side and she was the one feeding and bathing you. Three days ago, she found blood on your smallclothes and your sheets and she told me you flowered in your sleep. She left not too long ago and only because your fever was down and she was exhausted herself. I told her I would keep an eye on you and call her, if anything happened,” Arya explained and Sansa looked at her with what she thought was probably a terrified expression on her face.

As Arya’s words started to sink in, she found herself searching for proof that everything her sister had just told her wasn’t another one of Arya’s elaborate pranks and surely enough she felt first the wetness between her legs and then the soft pain in her lower belly. But before she could react to any of it, Arya started talking again.

“Jon has been dying to see how you’re doing, but Mother forbade him from coming to your chambers. She said it wouldn’t be proper, before you two are married, but we all know it’s because she’s holding a grudge. So, Jon has been broodier than usual. She was really distraught over your sickness, so Father let it slide, but imagine Mother’s irritation, when all you kept asking for in your delirious state was Jon,” her sister said and she looked amused.

“I did?” Sansa asked, taken aback, as she felt her face heating up from embarrassment.

“Oh, yeah. You must have taken this whole marriage thing a lot more seriously than I thought,” Arya said snickering, but then paused, her expression quickly changing into a serious one.

“Look, Jon explained that you’re just trying to protect him and that’s why you agreed. He told me about your deal to have a marriage just in name for the sake of the family. So, I guess what I’m trying to tell you is thank you for helping our brother, even if you’ve never been close to him. I deeply apologize for my behavior the other night. You’re giving up all your dreams of having a family of your own for this and I know it’s not fair or easy, but it’s also the right thing to do. So, thank you. I never thought you cared much about Jon, but listening to you worrying about him even in your sleep and through your fever has left me no doubt that you do. All joking aside, you’re a really good person, Sansa,” Arya finished and smiled kindly at her.

Sansa had no idea how she was supposed to feel about Arya’s apology. She was certainly pleased that Arya had said such sweet words and looked so sincere while apologizing, but she couldn’t help but also feel a little pained at the mention of her giving up her dreams and having a fruitless and loveless marriage with Jon. She had never agreed to that, but it was obviously how Jon had taken it and perhaps it was the only reason he had agreed to it in the first place. Sansa knew it would be hard, but she had expressed her hope to him that one day they could be more to each other and learn to love each other as husband and wife. But this was obviously something Jon was not interested in pursuing and this outright rejection of his of even the possibility of their future together left her feeling a little heartbroken.

“Thank you for your apology. It means a lot to me that you believe in me,” Sansa said and tried to hide the bitterness from her voice and her smile.

“Would you mind getting Mother? She’ll want to know that I’m awake. I don’t want her worrying more than she already has.”

“Of course, but first I need to give you something,” Arya told her and then reached for the piece she had been working on earlier, while she had been waiting for her to wake up.

As she brought it forward, Sansa’s eyes widened at what she saw. It was definitely Arya’s best work and the fact that her little sister had made it for her made it even more special. A beautiful winter rose was embroidered on a light blue handkerchief with her name Sansa written on the bottom with carefully embroidered white letters.

“Thank you, Arya! It’s beautiful!” she said and she meant it.

“You’re welcome and by the way it’s my gift for your wedding, so don’t expect anything else,” Arya said and smiled as her cheeks started getting a shade of red. Sansa could see right through her and she knew that with her comment Arya was only trying to hide her embarrassment. Her little sister wasn’t used to compliments and the realization made Sansa feel bad about all the times she had made fun of her with Jeyne Poole.

“Well, I love it! I promise to keep it always with me!” she promised and Arya’s smile grew.

“I’ll go get Mother,” she said and right when she was about to open the door, she turned around to look at her.

“I should probably tell Jon too, so he can stop brooding already,” she added and then with one last smile, she was out of the room.

Chapter Text

Jon

“Jon, I’m so cold,” Sansa moaned, tightening her grip around his neck.

“We’re almost there, sweetling. Just hold on,” Jon reassured her, bringing her as close to his body as he could, without missing his step, while he carried her back to her chambers.

The sun was high enough in the sky that people had started going about their day in the courtyard and inside the castle, and Jon could not help but feel irritated by the questioning looks and whispers coming their way, the moment he was seen holding Sansa in his arms so early in the morning.

Everyone knew about the betrothal by now and they all seemed too interested in gossiping about them to actually do anything to help them. On the whole way back, the small direwolves kept whining around him, but he only kept his eyes on the one he was planning to claim as his own, which was walking in a fast pace in front of him, until finally they reached the entrance.

There he was met by Vayon Poole’s shocked face, staring from him to Sansa and back again, without ever noticing the wolves, before the older man spoke.

“My… my lord! What happened? Is your betrothed well?” he asked, as if he didn’t know who Sansa was besides his betrothed. He hadn’t even called her a lady like she deserved, just his betrothed, and that only helped to worsen Jon’s mood.

“No, she’s very cold and I need to get her back to her chambers immediately. Send someone to help her change in warmer clothes. I’ll handle lighting a fire myself,” Jon said and made a move to step inside, but was still blocked by Winterfell’s steward, who kept staring at him with his mouth hanging open.

“That will be all. Now move aside,” Jon said, glaring at him, until the other man finally moved, stuttering an apology, and Jon started for Sansa’s chambers, all direwolves in tow.

When he reached her bedchambers, he slowly opened the door with the hand he had on Sansa’s back, carefully balancing her weight on his other arm and then entered. He had never been in Sansa’s chambers before and he wasn’t really surprised to find that it was three times the size of his own bedchambers, decorated with beautiful furniture. Her bed looked huge in the center of the room, covered in fine linens and furs, its headboard touching the eastern wall, while the bed’s floral canopy in different shades of light grey and blue that was matching her eyes hung over its entirety, following the bedposts to the floor.

He hadn’t realized he had paused, taking everything in, while he stood between the door and the bed, until the white pup brought him back to the present with a high pitched howl, staring at him with its red eyes, as if it was commanding him to snap out of it and take care of Sansa already, who had meanwhile fallen asleep in his arms.

Giving a nod to the little direwolf he moved to the bed and tried to place her on it and cover her with the furs without waking her, in order to go to the hearth and start a fire to warm the room. Before he had a chance to move, however, Sansa opened her eyes and grabbed his arm with her right hand.

“Don’t leave me, Jon. I’m so cold,” she muttered and Jon felt his face going as red as her hair, his gaze moving from Sansa to the door, which had been left wide open.

“I’m going to light a fire,” he said, turning his gaze back to her, and hoped it would be enough explanation for her to let him go.

“No, please. Stay with me,” she whined, looking up at him with pleading eyes and Jon, sparing one last glance towards the door, climbed on the bed with her, fully dressed, boots and all, only now realizing he hadn’t even removed hers.

Bringing the furs up to her chin, he let her curl up to him, her body flush against his side and started moving his hand once more up and down her back to warm her up. To his surprise, the white wolf along with a light grey one tried and managed to climb onto the bed as well, moving and lying over the furs on Sansa’s feet, as if they were also trying to keep her warm.

“You’re so kind. I never knew how much. I only knew what I saw from your interactions with Arya. You’re always kind and sweet with her,” she said in a low voice, bringing his attention back to her after a few moments of deafening silence. Her face was now buried in his neck and the only thing Jon could do was lie stiffly next to her.

“I could have been that way with you too. But you never let me anywhere near you,” he replied and he knew he sounded bitter.

“I was so stupid,” Sansa agreed and let a humorless laugh escape her lips.

“I want to change that, Jon. I want us to be happy together,” she went on and Jon finally moved to look at her.

“I think you have a fever,” he told her, only half joking because of the things she was saying, and once again placed his lips on her forehead, which was sure enough burning up.

“I mean it. I want to love you and for you to love me. I want to have a family with you,” she said and pressed her forehead more firmly against his lips and placed her delicate hand over his heart on his chest.

“Sansa…” Jon said and his voice sounded like he wanted to protest.

“Jon…” Sansa said back, mimicking the tone of his voice and moved to look up at him.

For just a moment, their eyes met and their breaths mingled. Jon felt as if the world stopped moving around him and as if he wasn’t really there, but was only watching the scene play out in front of him, unable to do anything himself. And then, Sansa moved her gaze to his lips and, without another word, pressed her own lips against his and kissed him.

˜*˜

Jon snapped himself out of the memory, moving his eyes back to Ghost’s, who was looking at him like he already knew what Jon had been thinking about, a moment ago. For the few days the direwolves had been with them, they had proved themselves to be very intelligent.

His lord father had been against keeping them at first, but after Jon’s explanation of how he had come upon them and how they had led him to find Sansa, he had convinced him they were a gift from the Gods –with the direwolf being the Starks’ sigil and all- and Ned Stark had finally caved in, agreeing that his children were meant to have them and thinking that they could be used for their protection.

The white one, Ghost –as Jon had named him, because of the way he looked and carried himself silently about Winterfell- had taken a liking to Jon the same way Jon had taken a liking to him and they had been inseparable ever since. Likewise, the rest of the direwolves had done the same thing, choosing a master of their own among the rest of the Stark children -who had all been excited to meet them and have them- following them around everywhere they went.

Robb had named his Grey Wind, due to the color of his fur and the way he looked when he ran. Arya’s was Nymeria –named after a warrior-queen from Dorne who had lived a thousand years ago- Bran’s was Summer and Rickon’s was Shaggydog. There was only one wolf left unnamed, currently lying asleep in his lap and this one was meant for Sansa.

Arya and Sansa’s wolves were the only ones that were female, which was fitting, and while Arya’s was playful and was always running around in the mud with her litter mates -much like Arya herself and their brothers- Sansa’s wolf, with her light grey fur, was always proper and looked too delicate to run in the mud with the rest. Instead, she was always standing by Jon’s side or lying on his lap, much like now.

Jon didn’t mind taking care of her along with Ghost. In fact, he was glad that the little pup had showed a preference to him. Arya had argued and had wanted to keep her for herself, until Sansa was well enough to have her, but the wolf had had a mind of her own.

During the first few days, the wolf had looked depressed and the times hadn’t been few when Jon had found her whining outside Sansa’s chambers, scratching on the door, asking to be let inside. But Lady Stark had forbidden it. She didn’t want the wolf anywhere near her sick daughter and so Jon had taken it upon himself to take care of her and keep her company, since much like the wolf, he was the only one who wasn’t welcome in Sansa’s bedchambers.

Thankfully, Arya and the rest were always telling him how she was doing after their visits, but Jon was always left feeling helpless, as if it was his responsibility to be taking care of her and he wasn’t even allowed to see her. So, instead of taking care of Sansa, he was taking care of her wolf for her and every night when he lay awake in his bed with Sansa’s wolf and Ghost, he thought of that day he had been lying in bed with her, while the same two wolves had been warming her feet.

˜*˜

“What is this? Get out of my daughter’s bed, you bastard!” came Lady Stark’s furious voice, making Jon pull his lips away from Sansa’s to look terrified at her lady mother.

Sansa was too feverish to care about what was happening or to feel any shame, but Jon had gone from red to completely white, looking for words, but coming up blank.

“What in seven hells are you waiting for? GET OUT!” she screamed and before Jon had a chance to react, she was forcibly dragging him out of the bed and away from her daughter, until he finally landed on the floor.

“What is the meaning of this? Why are you yelling?” Jon heard his father say, the moment he appeared at the entrance, Vayon Poole and Maester Luwin at his side, taking in the scene in front of them. Jon was just looking at his father helplessly from his spot on the floor.

“Our daughter is sick and your bastard nephew was having his way with her,” Lady Stark yelled again, looking venomously at Jon, who at the sound of her words wished to crawl under a rock and die.

“No, I wasn’t. I-”

“I found him in her bed, under the covers, kissing her. He couldn’t even wait for their wedding night. He decided to defile her while she is sick, unable to react.”

Sansa had fallen asleep again, due to her high fever, so Jon was left by himself, and for the life of him, couldn’t find the right words to explain the situation and defend himself, until finally his father took pity on him and told him to follow him to his solar.

Jon got up and like a wet dog followed Ned outside, when Lady Stark’s angry voice was heard again.

“What are these creatures? Take them out of here! Take them out of my sight!” she yelled and soon enough the little direwolves were running to him.

“I can explain,” Jon said, after his father raised a brow at him, only just now noticing the pups.

“You’d better,” Ned said and without another word, nodded his head in the direction of his solar for Jon to follow.

˜*˜

“JON! JON!” Arya yelled, running towards him, this time pulling him out of a horrible memory. The way she yelled his name made his heart start racing. Had something happened to Sansa?

“Is Sansa alright?” were the first words out of his mouth, getting up from his seat and placing Sansa’s direwolf on the ground, next to Ghost, the moment Arya reached him.

“Yeah! She just woke up and for the first time in days she’s acting like herself. Her fever is down and we even talked for a while,” Arya said excited and Jon felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

“Can I see her?” he asked and immediately chastised himself for his stupidity. Sansa was awake, but she wasn’t well enough to leave her bedchambers yet, which could only mean that there was still no way for him to see her.

“Sorry… Mother is with her,” his little sister explained and looked at him apologetically.

“Look, Jon. I know you feel responsible because you’re the one who found her, but there’s no need for you to worry anymore. She’s alright. You need to start taking care of yourself. Those dark circles under your eyes are huge. The pups aren’t the only ones that need care and attention,” Arya said, looking at him concerned and pointing at the two direwolves by his feet.

“I’m fine. I just haven’t been sleeping very well,” Jon assured her, as he brought his hand to his face to rub his tired eyes.

“Are you worried about what Father said? About the pressure he’s getting from the other lords?” she asked and to Jon’s surprise she didn’t seem to have a problem with what she was insinuating.

“He might change his mind,” was the only thing he said.

“That’s unlikely. Robert Baratheon is winning the war against the Lannisters and Father says we need to secure our alliances. They’re not convinced by the betrothal. They’re pressuring him for the wedding and for you to take the Stark name like he explained was going to happen.”

“I don’t understand what the big deal is. Surely they can understand that Sansa is too young to marry anyone. The betrothal will have to be enough for now.”

“That’s what Mother said. I heard her fighting with Father the other day, after Maester Luwin said Sansa was out of danger and that her fever would break. Mother thought that given the announcement of the betrothal, the wedding could wait for a few years. But Father said Sansa is a woman flowered and there’s no reason for that. And now that she is awake and well, he will want to speed it up,” Arya said and paused, before she looked at him uncertainly.

“Did you mean it when you said that nothing was going to change after the wedding?”

Jon just looked at her blankly.

“Why are you asking me this?” he asked instead of answering.

“Well, let me see. You’ve been worried sick about Sansa, even more so than Robb, Sansa has been calling your name in her sleep and Mother is unusually hostile towards you. Has something happened between you two?”

˜*˜

“We’ll talk about the pups later. What I want to know now is what happened between you and Sansa,” his father said, staring at him, his hands fidgeting where they rested on his knees, after he took a seat next to the hearth of his solar, with Jon sitting opposite him.

“Father, I-”

“Was Catelyn telling the truth, when she said you and Sansa were kissing in her bed?” he asked, interrupting him and Jon felt his cheeks grow hot.

“It wasn’t like that. I mean… yes, we did kiss and I guess I was in her bed with her, but it’s really not what it sounds like.”

“And what was it like, then?”

“I found Sansa in the Godswood, following the sound of a howling wolf. That’s where I found the pups too,” Jon said and paused, trying to get the events in order.

“Go on…”

“Sansa was sleeping under the heart tree and as I got to her and tried to wake her up, I realized she was freezing. When she came to her senses, she said she had come to the Godswood to pray and that she had fallen asleep. From that very moment I knew she was going to get sick. She was really weak to walk, so I carried her back to the castle and told the steward to send someone to help Sansa change into warmer clothes, while I lit up a fire for her in the room’s hearth.”

“And what happened next? How did you get into bed with her?” Ned asked, raising a brow, but he didn’t seem or sound angry.

“I put her on the bed and covered her with the furs, but when I was about to leave and start the fire, she grabbed my arm and complained about being cold. I told her about the fire, but she didn’t want me to go. She asked me to hold her to keep her warm,” Jon said and paused again, unable to meet his father’s eyes.

“I know I shouldn’t have, but I panicked, I wasn’t thinking. She was cold and she was pleading me to stay, so I got under the furs with her and tried to warm her up. She was delirious and she kept saying about how she wanted for us to be happy and have a real marriage. I knew she had a fever, so I didn’t really pay any mind in her words, but then she leaned in and kissed me and caught me off guard. I didn’t even have time to reciprocate the kiss or pull away, before Lady Stark barged into her chambers and started yelling at me,” he finished and then finally raised his gaze to look into Ned’s eyes that were giving nothing away.

“I’m so sorry, Father. I know it was wrong of me to get into bed with her, but I really didn’t mean to dishonor her or do anything that Lady Stark accused me of. She’s my sister and I love her.”

“My sweet Jon, I never thought the accusations were true. But to be honest, I am a little disappointed.”

“I understand, Father,” Jon said and lowered his eyes to the ground.

“No, you really don’t,” Ned said, smiling sadly at him, as Jon looked at him again confused.

“It’s been nothing but an honor for me to be your father all these years and you can’t even begin to imagine how happy it makes me that you still think me and call me as such, but sometimes I wish you didn’t have to. I wish that you could have grown up knowing who your parents were, knowing who your mother was. I wish you could have had her by your side all these years, because I know it in my heart that Lyanna would have been an amazing mother to you. I know how much it always hurt you that you didn’t have a mother. She was someone I loved deeply and every time I look at you, I see her in your eyes and your face and your heart,” his father told him and Jon noticed that he had tears in his eyes. He had never seen him crying before.

“Even though Robb is my real son and I couldn’t be prouder of him than I am, it’ s you I mostly see myself in. Robb often reminds me of my older brother, Brandon, strong headed and reckless at times, but you are so much like me. You are honorable and kind to a fault, but also strong and smart. You’re everything a father would wish for his daughter to find in a husband. I wish you could have grown up as cousins and that you could see her the way she wants you to see her. I know I forced you two to wed, but I wish you could learn to love each other differently in the future. To give my Sansa a babe, the way she always dreamed of. I don’t want you to pull yourself away from her, because you’re afraid of how we’ll react. If you want to really be with her, there’s nothing that would make me happier, but maybe not just yet. I don’t want to upset Catelyn more. But when she gets better, go talk to her. Ask her how she really feels and what she wants and if it is something that you want too, then go for it. I want my children to be happy. I don’t want you to end up miserable together. If you can find love, under these horrible circumstances, then please follow your hearts.”

“Thank you, Father. Your words mean the world to me. But I don’t know if I can be that for Sansa. She deserves someone much better than me. Someone who can give her everything you just said. I love her. I really do, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to see her as something more than my sister. All I can promise though is that I’ll try to keep her safe and happy as much as I can,” Jon finished and shared another sad smile with Ned. Now he understood that the only reason his father was disappointed was because he knew Jon and Sansa would never find the love they deserved.

“This is exactly why there will never be anyone better for her than you,” Ned said and Jon averted his eyes to look at the ground again.

“Now, about the pups…”

˜*˜

“I meant it, Arya. Nothing has happened and nothing will change,” Jon reassured his little sister, as the talk with his lord father came to his mind. Arya just smiled at him then, looking relieved at his words.

“Come on then. Let’s tell the others about Sansa,” she said and grabbed his hand, dragging him towards the Great Hall, where she knew they’d find the rest of their siblings.

Chapter Text

Sansa

The sun of the early afternoon felt welcome on her face as Sansa, with Jeyne Poole at her side, stepped outside of the castle for the first time in days. Her friend was chatting excitedly about some new gossip she had heard in the kitchens that very morning, walking beside her with her arm linked through hers and making sure never to let Sansa out of her sight, per her mother’s command. Although not too long ago, Sansa would have jumped in the conversation, all she did now was listen uninterested as Jeyne kept talking, letting her thoughts wander to the only thing that plagued her mind these days. Jon and their impending union.

Two days ago, her lord father had announced to the whole family that the wedding would take place in a fortnight and all Sansa had wanted ever since was to spend some time alone with her betrothed and talk about it, but so far it had been impossible to even thank him for taking care of her after finding her in the Godswood. From the moment she had opened her eyes and Arya had gone to fetch their mother, Catelyn had been fussing over her, never letting her out of her sight, and so the only times she had seen Jon had been during their meals, in everyone’s presence -where her mother hadn’t even let her sit beside him, forcing them to only exchange glances- and during Jon’s sparring sessions with Robb and Theon.

Every afternoon Sansa would watch them from her window as they sparred, admiring Jon’s skills while he practiced against her brother and Theon. Often enough, one of the other two would notice her watching them and they would try to impress her. But Jon never had to try. He was always the best and every time he would catch her looking at him, he would just give her a soft smile and return back to fighting, while Sansa went back to sulking, due to her boredom.

Her mother had not let her go outside for ten days now, afraid that she would get sick again and Sansa, not wanting to worry her more than she already had, had regretfully obeyed, staying mostly in her chambers, until finally, that morning, Maester Luwin had deemed it safe for her to leave the warmth of the castle. And unbeknownst to her friend, Sansa had every intention to seize this opportunity to seek out Jon, away from Catelyn’s watchful eyes.

“… So what do you think?” Sansa was startled by her friend’s question, having missed everything else Jeyne had just said. Sensing Sansa’s confusion, the steward’s daughter gave her a bizarre look, as she stopped walking, bringing Sansa to a halt as well.

“About what?” Sansa asked, avoiding her friend’s eyes.

“About Theon,” Jeyne said as if that was supposed to clear things up for her. Well, it probably should, if Sansa had spent a moment to listen to anything Jeyne had just told her, instead of thinking where she would find Jon the whole time.

“What about Theon?”

“Do you think he likes me?” Jeyne asked, as Sansa stared blankly at her.

“I… I don’t know. What makes you think he likes you? Has he shown any interest?”

“Haven’t you been listening? Where is your mind?” Jeyne asked, but then, noticing Sansa’s reddening face, let the matter go.

“Well, as I was saying, Theon has been talking to me more so than usual. In the past, he would only wave at me or say hello to me, but the last few days he’s been more talkative.”

“And what do you talk about?”

“Well, mostly he’s been asking me about you and how you are doing, but I think he’s just doing it, because he wants to get close to me. I mean the normal thing would have been for him to ask Robb or the rest of your siblings about your health, not me. He’s much closer to them than he is to me and even though I’m your best friend, your siblings know about your health as much as I do. I have the feeling that he’s trying to find reasons to talk to me and I think it’s kind of sweet,” Jeyne said and the only thing Sansa could think was how not sweet Theon always seemed to her. The brothel stories she had heard from Robb alone were enough to destroy any positive thoughts she might have had for the Ironborn.

“I don’t know what to tell you. Just be careful. You know how Theon usually is. He’s always after some girl. I don’t want you to get hurt,” Sansa told her sincerely, but regretted it as she watched her friend’s face fall.

“Well, you could at least be a little more supportive,” Jeyne said angrily.

“I didn’t mean to sound unsupportive. It’s just I’ve never thought Theon to be the romantic type. I didn’t even know you liked Theon. Honestly, I just always thought you liked Robb,” Sansa defended herself.

“Robb isn’t going to ever marry the steward’s daughter, Sansa. You know it and I know it. So whatever crush I might have had on Robb is unimportant. Not everyone is like you. We don’t all get to marry princes.”

“Neither of us chose this, Jeyne. You know we’re doing it out of necessity. And besides, Jon is not a prince.”

“He might as well be. Targaryen blood runs through his veins and he’s the trueborn son of prince Rhaegar.”

“Jon is a Stark.”

“Please, Sansa. It’s me you’re talking to. I know the only reason you want to marry Jon is because of who his father was. You never liked Jon. You never even acknowledged his presence until his parentage was revealed and then as soon as you were able, you tried to seduce him and get him into your bed.”

“What are you talking about?” Sansa asked and looked scandalized.

“The maids in the kitchens gossip about more than just themselves,” Jeyne said smirking and Sansa could do nothing but gape at her.

“What have they been saying?” she asked with a trembling voice.

“Oh nothing, just that you got naked for him in the Godswood to seduce him and that’s why you got sick. Everyone saw you when you got back. They said you were clinging to him and then Father said that your mother caught you two in bed and that’s why Jon was forbidden from seeing you. The girls in the kitchens say that the reason Lord Eddard wants you two to marry so soon is because Jon has already taken your maidenhead and has dishonored you.”

“What? None of this is true,” Sansa yelled angrily at her.

“Jon and I never-”

“Oh, I know. Although, I do trust what Father said. But you know you’re going to have to do more than that to get Jon to want you. I heard him talking to Robb and Theon the other day about how he only sees you as his sister and I believe him. He even flirted with me on the day of your betrothal. Perhaps Jon isn’t the romantic type either. Well, at least when it comes to you.”

“Leave. I’ll continue the walk on my own,” Sansa told her furiously, as she tried not to cry.

“Lady Catelyn said I shouldn’t let you-”

“I don’t care what Mother said. I told you to leave me alone. Go find someone to gossip in the kitchens. It seems it’s the only thing you’re good at,” Sansa finally said and turned her back to what she thought of as her former friend and then headed towards the stables, hoping that she would find Jon there.

˜*˜

Sansa had been right to think Jon would be at the stables and the moment she saw him, she let a sigh of relief escape her lips. Jon was brushing his horse’s coat with his back turned to her, while Hodor and another stable boy were cleaning the stalls in the back. She would have preferred for them to be alone for this, but she knew that this was as good as it was going to get and after her talk with Jeyne, she was in dire need to speak with him.

After she gathered the courage to approach him, she started walking towards Jon, feeling her heart beating wildly inside her chest from nervousness, when suddenly and before she had a chance to announce her presence, two pups came running to her, jumping on her dress and making her shout in surprise. Immediately, Jon turned and looked at her in alarm, but as soon as he took in the scene, he just laughed in relief and ran to her side.

“Hey hey, calm down you two,” he said as he knelt down before her, trying to keep the two pups away from her dress.

“Sorry about that. They’re just excited to see you,” Jon told her then with a smile that lit up his whole face and Sansa, taking her eyes from Jon’s, looked at the two little pups that were squirming in his arms, trying to get to her. At once she realized that those were two of the direwolves she had been told appeared when she had gotten sick. She hadn’t had any time yet to meet them and play with them, since she spent most of her time inside her bedchambers, but she knew that one of the two wolves that were with Jon was supposed to be hers.

“That’s alright. They’re really cute,” she found herself saying and smiling back at Jon, for a moment forgetting about all the horrible things Jeyne had told her.

“Are you feeling alright? They finally let you out of your chambers?” he asked, as he smiled softly at her. He seemed happy to be talking to her and that kept a smile firmly on her face as well.

“Yes, Maester Luwin said it was safe for me to come outside.”

“I’m glad you’re well. I would have come to see you, but-”

“I know. Mother,” she interrupted him and Jon gave her a nod.

“Would you like to finally meet your wolf?” he asked her then, changing the subject, as his smile grew bigger. The light grey wolf had left his arms and was now trying to get her attention, rubbing its fur against her dress and her boots.

“Is this one mine?” she asked, kneeling to pet the pup.

“Aye… It’s a female, but we haven’t given her a name yet. We thought the appropriate thing would be for you to name her, given we all named ours.”

“She’s so beautiful,” she said as she continued petting the wolf.

“What is she like?” she asked then, turning her gaze back to Jon, who was still kneeling next to her, petting his own wolf.

“She’s the sweetest of them all, always looking for someone -mostly me- to pet her. She’s not as playful as the rest, but she’s very loving. She mostly likes to lie down, stay clean and look pretty. That much I’m certain of. She’s much like you in that regard, to be honest,” he told her and Sansa noticed his cheeks blushing.

“Oh, she’s pretty alright. Aren’t you? Are you a sweet little lady? I think that’s what I’ll call you. Lady,” she concluded and petted the direwolf’s head once more.

“What’s the name of your direwolf?” she asked then, turning her attention back to Jon and the albino wolf in his arms.

“Ghost,” he answered, looking proudly at the wolf.

“I think it suits him,” she said and smiled at him again.

“Thank you for taking care of Lady, while I was sick.”

“It’s the least I could do, since your lady mother wouldn’t let me anywhere near you. I want you to know that I wanted to be there for you. I really did,” he told her and his expression got serious again, as did Sansa’s.

“I know, it’s alright,” the redhead reassured him and paused, while she kept petting Lady.

“Jon, can I ask you a question?” Sansa needed to know how the rumors about her and Jon had started. She didn’t remember anything herself, but she didn’t take Vayon Poole for one to gossip lies either and if any of the things Jeyne had claimed had happened was true, she needed to know it.

“Sure,” Jon answered, but sounded uncertain, as they both stood up and let the wolves go and play with each other.

“It’s about the day you found me in the Godswood,” she clarified and at the sound of her words Jon looked uneasy.

“What about it?”

“What happened after you found me and took me to my chambers? I’ve been trying to remember, but everything is still fuzzy.”

“Why do you ask? Do you really not remember?” Jon asked and Jeyne’s words invaded her mind once more.

“Did something happen between us?” she asked him back instead of answering, determined to find out the truth, and if Jon’s furious blush was anything to go by, she was certain that something definitely had.

“There was a misunderstanding,” Jon started explaining, while he rubbed uncomfortably the back of his neck.

“Alright?”

“You were sick and you were really cold, so I got into your bed with you to help you get warm and then… you kissed me and Lady Stark saw us,” he admitted and Sansa let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Is that all?” she asked and she could not help how relieved she sounded, as she noticed Jon’s annoyance at her reaction.

“Isn’t that enough?” he asked and Sansa smirked at him.

“Trust me, it could be worse.”

“Sansa, ever since that happened Lady Stark has been glaring daggers at me. I haven’t stopped feeling humiliated by how she dragged me out of your bed in front of everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Well, not everyone, but there were people who witnessed it.”

“Jon, we’ll be married in less than a fortnight. You’re going to be my husband and share my bed every night. I’m sorry about what Mother did. She was out of line, but you need to let this unfortunate moment go,” Sansa said in an attempt to make him relax, but somehow she felt that her words had made him panic even more and the pleasant atmosphere from before was now gone.

“It’s not just Lady Stark, Sansa. This whole thing between us is really confusing for me,” he said and closed his eyes at his admission.

“It’s confusing for me too, but with time I know we’ll get over how odd this feels.”

“I don’t know, if I ever will,” Jon told her, looking at the ground and Sansa didn’t know what to say to that.

“Did you kiss me back?” she found herself asking then and Jon turned his gaze back to her.

“What?”

“You said I kissed you. Did you kiss me back? Did you enjoy our kiss?” she asked and looked at him with a hopeful expression on her face.

“No, I did not. I didn’t like it either,” he answered and Sansa felt like he had just punched her in the face.

“Why not?” she whispered and her voice trembled.

“You were delirious and you didn’t know what you were doing. If you were in your right mind, you wouldn’t have tried to kiss me and I wouldn’t have been yelled at because of it.”

“So you didn’t like it because of what Mother did afterwards?”

“No, it’s not that. Look, I know we’ll be married in a few days, but I’m not ready to be that intimate with you.”

“It was just a kiss.”

“I know that, but still… I told you, this whole thing feels too strange to me,” Jon said as he struggled to make her see things from his perspective.

“I understand. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Like you said I was delirious and didn’t know what I was doing. I’d probably kiss Theon in that state,” she said, choosing to jest, so that he wouldn’t see that her heart had dropped to her feet at his words. At that moment she knew that Jeyne had been right. Jon would never see her the way she hoped he would.

“Theon? What does Theon have to do with any of this?” Jon asked and Sansa was surprised by how irritated he sounded.

“Nothing. I was just jesting.”

“Has he tried anything with you?”

“What? Jon, no,” she answered, but Jon didn’t look convinced and clenched his jaw.

“Then why did you say his name of all people?”

“Who else did you want me to say? Robb? I have enough problems with one brother turned cousin as it is,” she tried to joke again, but Jon’s unimpressed look shut her up.

“I want you to stay away from him.”

“From Theon? I don’t really interact with him all that much.”

“Good. You should keep it that way,” he said and he looked serious.

“I… I think I’ll go inside now. I’ll see you at supper,” Sansa said then, ending their conversation, and Jon nodded. While she was walking away from him, she started thinking about his odd reaction, but then when she felt Lady joining her for her walk back to the castle, her mind drifted off to other things.

˜*˜

Jon

“Hey, where is your mind? You’re making this way too easy, Snow,” Robb teased him, as he helped him up from the ground. They had been sparring for a while now and Jon could not seem to do anything right.

“Let’s go again,” Jon said, getting into position.

“No, I’m tired and you’re not even trying. Is everything alright?” his brother asked and then left him to go sit on a bench at the edge of the courtyard. After a moment, Jon joined him as well, looking defeated.

“Everything is fine,” he answered as they sat next to each other.

“Aye, I can tell,” Robb said and smirked at him.

“Go on, tell me what’s wrong,” Robb insisted and bumped his shoulder into Jon’s playfully.

“It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

“Well, let me be the judge of that.”

“Do you… do you think Sansa likes Theon?” Jon asked and Robb just stared at him for a while, before he burst out laughing.

“What? What are you talking about? How did you even get that idea?”

“I knew I shouldn’t tell you anything.”

“No, please. I’m sorry I laughed. Tell me why you ask,” Robb told him, trying to keep a straight face, as Jon glared at him.

“I saw her today and we talked about the kiss.”

“And where did Theon fit in that conversation?” Robb asked him confused.

“Sansa agreed that she was delirious when she kissed me -in fact she didn’t even remember it- and she told me that she could just as easily have kissed Theon instead,” Jon said and he couldn’t mask how annoyed he was by the fact.

“Is that all?”

“What do you mean is that all? Everyone has got to stop saying that to me. I’m not overreacting,” Jon defended himself and sounded angry.

“Clearly,” Robb said and smirked again.

“You don’t need to worry about it. There’s nothing there. Besides, I don’t even know why you care. You don’t even like Sansa in that way. It was just the other day that you told us you only see her as your sister. Even if she liked Theon, I don’t see why you should have a problem with it.”

“I know what I said and I do only see her as my sister, but that doesn’t mean I want Theon to get any ideas that he can try anything with her. In less than a fortnight Sansa is going to be my wife.”

“So, you’re planning to make her your wife for real?”

“What? No, Robb. You know what I mean.”

“So, she’s not allowed to ever have an actual relationship then,” Robb said and Jon could hear the accusation in his brother’s voice.

“When she agreed to marry me, she knew what she was giving up. I asked her to reconsider. I told her that we would find another way, but she didn’t want to hear any of that. She still wanted to marry me, so when we do, I expect her to stay faithful to me, the same way I’m going to stay faithful to her.”

“But she didn’t. Not really. Sansa is not even fourteen. She didn’t really know what she was giving up. She’s a young girl with no experiences. Maybe you knew what you were giving up, but not her. You were even thinking of joining the Night’s Watch before everything happened, which means you never really had a problem with living a celibate life. But Sansa always dreamed of having a husband and babes and now she is sacrificing that dream for you, because she loves you and cares about what happens to you. Would it really be that terrible, if she could find someone to love her the way a lover does?”

“Yes it would. She’s going to be my wife.”

“I never took you for the possessive type.”

“I’m not possessive,” Jon argued, but when he met Robb’s eyes he stopped talking and averted his gaze to the ground. After that, they remained silent for what seemed like forever, until Jon finally heard Robb sigh deeply.

“What’s the matter?” he asked him.

“I’m just thinking whether I should tell you or not.”

“Tell me what?” Jon asked, his interest peaked.

“I promised her that I wouldn’t tell you, but I don’t see how else I’m going to save you from acting like an arse to her,” Robb said and Jon waited expectantly for his brother to continue, without uttering a word.

“Sansa is in love with you,” Robb blurted out.

“That’s why she agreed to marry you. She did it, because she loves you,” he went on, as Jon kept looking at him with wide eyes.

“Are you jesting?”

“No, Jon. I’m not. I’m breaking her trust here by telling you this. So, now you can understand why your fears about Theon sounded so ridiculous to me earlier.”

“How… I… I don’t-”

“Trust me, I know. I’ve been trying to stomach this ever since she told me, but then she got sick and I thought she was going to die and I found myself not caring anymore. I only wished for her to get well, even if it meant that I would start seeing you kissing and holding hands or whatever,” Robb said and sounded defeated at his admission.

“The only reason I’m telling you this is because I don’t want you to hurt her. I know you don’t see her that way, but Sansa does, so I’m asking you to be gentle with her and stop worrying about imaginary things.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything and especially to her. I don’t want her to know that I told you,” Robb warned him and then got up from his seat.

“Supper will be served soon. We’d better get cleaned up,” he added and after resting his hand on Jon’s shoulder for a moment, he walked away, leaving Jon frozen in place and alone with his thoughts.

She is in love with me. Sansa is in love with me, he kept thinking and suddenly all he wanted to do was to hit himself for his stupidity. It all made sense now. Everything she had told him in her delirious state. It all made sense. He should have known better. He should have understood.

Chapter Text

Sansa

It was late and almost everyone had gathered at the Great Hall for supper. Earlier that day the servants had started preparing the Hall for the guests that were soon expected to arrive for the wedding, bringing in more tables and even more candles to light up the space, as if this was an ordinary feast at Winterfell. But all Sansa could think, while her gaze travelled through the room, was how life changing it was going to be for her and how their very survival was dependent on how it was going to go.

Even though the wedding was still days away -a little less than a fortnight- they had already received ravens informing them of most of the Northern lords arrivals, since her father had sent them ravens before he had actually told the rest of the family. Representatives of both House Cerwyn and House Glover were expected to arrive in three to four days, while the rest Houses of the North, as well as the Tullys from the Riverlands –her lady mother’s House- would come within the next five to ten days.

Their acceptance to attend the wedding was a good first step, but the time they would spend as their guests would determine how united the North truly was and how loyal the other Houses were to House Stark. For that reason, every last person within the castle was trying their best to have everything ready for everyone’s arrival and all day they had all looked on edge, preparing the castle’s chambers, sweeping and cleaning furiously, as if a cleaner and more comfortable room would change the lords’ minds about Jon and the rest of the Starks.

When Sansa had entered the Hall, Jeyne had already been sitting at her usual spot and Sansa had tried hard not to glare at her, as she had moved past her and had taken a seat next to her little brother, Bran, who in turn was sitting next to Arya and Rickon. Jeyne, on her part, had tried to act like she didn’t care, but her mother’s gaze between the two of them hadn’t gone unnoticed to Sansa. Her mother had most definitely figured out that there was something wrong between them and Sansa was certain that she was planning to have a talk with her after supper.

A few moments later, and while Sansa was listening to her younger siblings fighting over whose direwolf was the fastest, Robb entered the Hall with Jon at his side. Sansa expected Robb to come and sit next to her in the empty seat between her and Theon, but when her brother and Jon’s gaze found her, they both stopped in their tracks and looked momentarily towards the Ironborn. Robb then exchanged a look with Jon, while murmuring something close to his ear and with a pat on her betrothed’s back went to sit next to Jory Cassel who was conversing with their father. Jon, on the other hand, after exchanging another awkward look with Robb and looking uncertainly towards her mother, came and took the seat next to her.

“My Lady,” he said to her and smiled, the moment he sat down. Sansa found herself unable to say anything and started blushing as she felt all voices die down around them. She was aware that everyone was looking at them, but soon she forced herself to relax and actually respond to him.

“Jon! How did the training go?” she asked and when she looked around her again, everyone acted like they hadn’t just been staring at them and started talking again.

“You didn’t watch?” he asked with a smile.

“No, I was at the library with Septa and Arya,” she answered with a faint blush on her cheeks. She knew that Jon was aware of her often watching them spar, but she felt a little embarrassed when he actually asked her about it.

“It went well,” he answered.

“Liar, Robb told me that he beat you every time,” came suddenly Bran’s voice, surprising her, as both Arya and Rickon started laughing on Bran’s other side.

“He was just lucky,” Jon defended himself, looking a little annoyed. Sansa could not help the smile that spread on her face at his reaction.

“He said you fell on the ground three times,” Bran added and the other two broke into a fit of laughter once more.

“I just let him see what it feels like to win from time to time,” Jon said as he watched their siblings laugh, trying to suppress a smile of his own.

“When I get older I’ll beat you too,” came Rickon’s voice then.

“Of course you will. I’m sure you’ll be much better than Robb,” Jon told their little brother and all of them started laughing again. Sansa chanced a look towards Robb then and she saw him watching them, but by the confused expression on his face she knew he couldn’t have heard them and that made her giggle as well. When she looked back at Jon, she found him staring at her and she felt unable to look away from his eyes.

“Has Theon ever beaten you?” Arya asked then, pulling them out of their trance.

“Yeah, right! He wishes,” Jon answered, before he heard a snort coming from Theon and turned to look at him.

“Am I wrong? Have you ever beaten me?” he asked and Sansa felt herself tense at the tone of his voice, remembering their earlier conversation and how Jon had asked her to stay away from the Ironborn, when his name had come up. Did Jon really dislike Theon that much or had he actually gotten a little jealous when she had tried to jest about him? She’d never know.

Jon had never seemed to get along with Theon. Even when she hadn’t been paying much attention to either of them, she had noticed that they were always fighting over Robb and who was actually his favorite. Well, Theon was the one fighting, because the answer had always been obvious to both Jon and Sansa, as well as to everyone else. Robb and Jon had been as thick as thieves ever since they were mere babes and the bond between the two had never weakened. Jon was clearly Robb’s best friend and favorite sibling out of all of them, even if Arya often complained that Robb always took Sansa’s side on everything because he loved her the most. Sansa, however, knew that it was different. She was a girl and she could never have the same bond Jon had with Robb. But it was the love he had for her she had relied on for Robb’s eventual acceptance and forgiveness, when she had lied to him about her feelings for Jon.

“You think I can’t beat you?” Theon asked irritated.

“I don’t think. I know you can’t,” Jon answered smugly.

“Why? Because you’re a dragon now? Is that it?” Theon asked a little loudly and Sansa looked around to find everyone watching the two of them.

“No, that’s not it. I’ve always been who I am now and if you couldn’t beat me before, when I was much smaller than you, you definitely won’t beat me now that we’re equal in strength, because I’m a much better swordsman than you are and you know it.”

“Is that what you think? That you’re a better swordsman? How about we take it outside and see who the better swordsman really is?” Theon retorted, as he got up from his seat, glaring at Jon. Sansa looked around her anxiously for help then, but the moment she met Robb’s eyes, he looked at her like she was the one who should do something. So, when she felt Jon rising beside her, without thinking, she put both her hands on his arm and kept him firmly in his place, until Jon turned to look at her surprised.

“Shall we eat? The food is getting cold,” she said sweetly, with her hands still holding onto his arm. She saw Jon swallow a lump in his throat, but then he quickly nodded, without ever sparing another glance towards Theon, who was now standing awkwardly next to him.

“Theon?” she asked, turning her gaze to the Ironborn, only to notice that his cheeks had turned red, probably from embarrassment.

“My Lady,” was the only thing he said in return, before he too sat back down on his seat and everyone else resumed eating and talking, acting as if nothing had happened. Jeyne was the only one who kept staring or more accurately glaring at her, but Sansa wouldn’t let that upset her. She was feeling oddly proud of herself at that moment.

She never thought that she had the power to make them actually listen to her, but more importantly she felt happy of the fact that Jon didn’t seem to question her hold on his arm, but let her touch him until she was the one who decided to let go. She now vaguely remembered the time when he had snatched his hand out of her own and had refused to meet her eyes or talk to her, the night her lord father had announced their betrothal. Although that was not that long ago, their relationship was clearly already starting to change and evolve and that gave her great courage for the future.

˜*˜

After supper and after both their parents had retreated in their father’s solar to check on the castle’s books of account with Vayon Poole and Maester Luwin, probably to estimate what the wedding was going to cost them, all the children found themselves sitting by the fire that was still burning in the Great Hall’s hearth and playing with their wolves.

Sansa was sitting on the floor between her two younger brothers with Lady on her lap, while Arya was sitting next to Jon across from them, with Robb and Theon on her other side. It was only Jeyne that was missing. Usually Jeyne would sit by Sansa’s side and they would both ignore everyone else, while they talked amongst themselves. But tonight was different. Sansa’s glare at the end of supper had made it clear to Jeyne that she wasn’t welcome to join them as usual and the steward’s daughter with an irritated huff of breath had left with the rest, while the servants had started clearing the table.

“Where’s Jeyne?” came suddenly Robb’s voice, pulling her from her thoughts. Of course it’d be Robb the one to notice. Even though Jeyne had been right to say that someone like Robb would never marry someone like her, Sansa knew that her brother liked Jeyne and thought she was pretty. She often found him looking at her.

“I don’t know. I’m not her keeper,” Sansa said without realizing how irritated she sounded. Everyone then turned to look at her puzzled, and it felt like the direwolves did the exact same thing.

“Really? You two are always attached at the hip,” Arya commented, raising an eyebrow at Sansa.

“Did something happen?” Robb asked again and Sansa’s irritation grew.

“No. Nothing happened. Why are you asking me all these questions? I just don’t know where she is,” Sansa defended herself and immediately she knew from the way everyone kept looking at her that no one believed her. Feeling heat coloring her cheeks, she turned her gaze back down to Lady and started petting her in an attempt to put an end to the conversation.

“I just thought it’d be nice for her to join us. It’s been a while since we all hung out together, with you being sick and all,” Robb said, but Sansa kept ignoring him and looking at Lady, until suddenly Jon’s wolf came in her view as he tried to climb on her lap as well. Sansa, looking into the wolf’s red eyes, felt like the reason he had come to her was because he wanted to comfort her.

“Look, Ghost likes Sansa,” came Rickon’s excited voice from beside her then, as he tried to reach the albino wolf and pet him. The animal, however, recoiled from his touch and then made a whining noise, turning his eyes back to Sansa, like he was asking her to make room on her lap for him. Sansa immediately obliged and both animals curled happily next to each other.

“He doesn’t like Sansa, you silly. He just wants to play with Lady. The two of them have been inseparable, because Jon was the one looking after both of them,” Arya said from her spot next to Jon, holding onto her own wolf, Nymeria. Sansa could feel Jon’s eyes on her, but she tried to avoid them. Her sister sounded annoyed by the fact and Sansa realized that it was probably because Ghost had never done anything like that with her and the thought gave her some satisfaction.

“You know he hasn’t let any of us pet him, right? And now he just goes to Sansa willingly like that?” Bran was the next one to speak.

“Maybe he likes Sansa, because she’s Jon’s girl,” Rickon said and Sansa heard Robb snort at the comment. When she raised her eyes to look at him, she also saw Jon glaring daggers at their brother, while Robb tried to hide his snicker behind his hand.

“Ew… Sansa is not Jon’s girl, you idiot. This marriage is a sham. They’re brother and sister,” Arya cut him off, sounding disgusted.

“Stop calling me names. I’ll tell Mother… And you’re wrong! They’ll be married and they’ll be sleeping together, like Mother and Father. Maester Luwin told me so,” Rickon argued back and he sounded a lot more irritated than Arya did.

“Perhaps we should all go to bed. It’s getting late,” Jon finally spoke for the first time and Sansa found herself staring into his eyes while he did the same.

“Oh no, please. I enjoy this conversation way too much,” Theon said, bringing both of them out of their trance, as he started laughing, only to receive a glare from everyone in the room.

“Rickon is right! I too heard Vayon Poole talking with two servant girls about moving Jon’s things to Sansa’s chambers for the wedding. After the wedding they’ll be sleeping in her bedchambers,” Bran came to his little brother’s defense. Rickon was still very young to understand everything that was happening, but Sansa was curious to know how Bran felt about all of this. She hadn’t had a chance to talk to him yet and she didn’t know if Jon had either.

“That’s because there will be people here and they can’t know that it’s a farce. They need to believe it’s real or they won’t support us. When they leave, Jon will move back to his own chambers. Sansa and Jon don’t love each other like that,” Arya was the one to talk again, as if Jon and Sansa weren’t in the room to defend themselves. And at the sound of her words, Sansa felt her heart beat faster inside her chest, as she remembered her lie to Robb.

“No no… you’re lying! Father told me that he and Mother were the same and then they had Robb and they fell in love and had all of us,” Rickon insisted and Sansa felt her face turning red again, as her eyes locked with Robb’s and then with Jon’s. Jon who was looking at her, as if somehow he knew.

“He said that if they were married to each other, none of them would have to move away and we could all stay here,” Rickon yelled at his sister and Sansa immediately realized the root of the problem.

Sansa was a woman flowered now and Rickon had heard her many times talking with Jeyne about wanting to marry a lord in the south and finally leave Winterfell. And if she knew about Jon’s previous plans of joining the Night’s Watch, she was certain that so did Rickon. In the little boy’s mind, this marriage was the only way to keep them both here and prevent them from abandoning him.

“When Sansa has Jon’s babe, she will love him too and so will Jon,” her little brother added and Arya looked ready to say something in return, but Rickon’s direwolf, Shaggydog, growled at her and she shut her mouth. Sansa could do nothing more but sit there frozen, the mention of the babe making her uncomfortable. If only Rickon was right. But she would never have one. Jon would never see her like that to give her one.

“That’s enough! All of you to bed,” Jon shouted then, getting up from the floor. Sansa could see how upset the conversation had made him, so she pulled herself together and decided to help him.

“Jon is right! Mother will be angry with us, if we don’t go to bed soon. Besides, I’m already tired and I want to sleep. I’m not used to staying up this late. I’m still a little weak.”

“Sansa, will you put me to bed?” Rickon asked her sweetly then, but Robb answered before she could say anything.

“I will. You heard her. She’s tired,” he said and then turned to Jon.

“Jon, why don’t you escort Sansa back to her chambers?”

“I…” Jon started to say, losing his words, when Theon cut him off.

“I can do that,” he said, taking a step closer, ready to be of service, until suddenly Jon’s hand moved to his chest, pushing him backwards.

“I will,” he said and his voice left no room for arguments.

Sansa was startled once more by his behavior, but said nothing as Jon came to her side and offered his arm for her to hold onto and she awkwardly accepted. If their siblings looked at them strangely when she did, she didn’t want to know, so she avoided to look at everyone’s faces, and especially Robb’s, as they left the Hall together, their two wolves following behind them.  

˜*˜

Jon

The way to Sansa’s chambers seemed to be the longest of Jon’s life.  Sansa’s arm was burning, linked through his own and all he could think about with every step they took together was Rickon’s words of them having a babe and Robb’s words, telling him that Sansa was already in love with him.

When they reached Sansa’s door, Sansa removed her arm hesitantly from his own and stared at him with her Tully blue eyes.

“So, this is me,” she said awkwardly, biting on her lower lip.

“Goodnight, Jon,” she added, when Jon told her nothing in return and moved to open her chamber’s door.

“Wait, Sansa… I… I need to talk to you,” he blurted out and immediately regretted it when she turned to look at him again.

“Can’t it wait ‘till tomorrow?” she asked, but Jon realized right then that it really couldn’t. If they didn’t talk about this now, he was certainly going to lose his mind during the night. Robb had asked him not to say anything, but Jon couldn’t keep living wondering about this. He needed to hear her say it herself.

“No, it really can’t. Can I come inside for a moment?” he asked and the moment the words came out of his mouth, he chastised himself for his stupidity. Of course he couldn’t go into Sansa’s bedchambers and especially now that it was night.

“Or we could just talk right here,” he hurried to say.

“No, let’s go inside. We’ll be more comfortable,” she answered and all Jon could think as he followed her inside, along with Ghost and Lady, was that if Lady Stark were to catch them again, this time she would certainly cut his head off.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” she asked as soon as she closed the door and sat at the edge of her bed. Jon couldn’t find himself to sit anywhere. He was too nervous to sit, so he just stood in front of her.

“Why did you agree to marry me?” he asked and Sansa stared at him.

“Why are you asking me this? We’ve talked about this,” she replied and averted her gaze to look at the floor.

“I know we have, but due to some recent events, I’ve come to believe that maybe you lied to me.”

“Jon, I don’t know what you’re talking about and I’m really tired-”

“Robb told me. Is it true?” he asked her, as she turned her terrified eyes back to him.

“What did Robb tell you?” she asked and Jon could see it in her eyes that Sansa knew exactly what he was talking about. So, it was true then.

“He said that you agreed to this wedding, because you were already in love with me.”

A few moments of silence passed and Sansa was left gaping at him the whole time. She tried to open and close her mouth a few times, but words wouldn’t come out of her lips. It was all the answer he needed, so he decided to go. Robb had told him the truth and Jon didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about it and looking at her in this state of distress wasn’t helping either of them.

“I should go! Goodnight, Sansa,” he said then, but as he turned to leave, he suddenly felt her hand on his arm.

“Wait, Jon. I’m sorry… I… you don’t understand-” Sansa tried to explain, but Jon cut her off again.

“I understand just fine. I just- I need some time to process this. I don’t know how I feel about this. Why… how-”

“I lied to him!” she said and stopped his mumbling. Jon just stared at her.

“He wasn’t going to let us do this. You know I’m right! So, I thought that if he didn’t think I was sacrificing myself, he’d let us do it. Everything I’ve told you is the truth. I only lied to Robb… Jon, you can’t tell him. He’ll get mad at me and he’ll try to sabotage this again,” she pleaded and Jon couldn’t understand for the life of him why she wanted this marriage to happen so badly.

“Maybe he should,” Jon said in return and she looked horrified.

“Robb opened my eyes today to some other things that I hadn’t thought before. You haven’t thought this through. You don’t understand what you’re giving up.”

“I know what I’m giving up and I don’t care,” she said, looking down, her hand still clutching his arm.

“Do you, really? ‘Cause I saw how you looked, when Rickon talked about us having a babe. It’s something you want. It’s something you’ve always wanted and you can’t have it with me.”

“Please, Jon. Don’t do this… Why are we having this conversation again? Nothing has changed. I want to marry you and you agreed. You can’t take it back. We’re already betrothed. Everyone knows and everyone is coming for the wedding. You will humiliate me, if you do this. Please-” she said and Jon could see tears in her eyes.

“Why are you crying?” he asked and took her face in his hands.

“I’m not crying,” she said stubbornly as a tear rolled down her cheek. Jon simply smiled at her and wiped the tear away with his thumb.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked her again.

“I’m sure,” Sansa replied staring into his eyes once more.

“Even if it means you’ll never have a lover? Never have a babe?” he asked and he saw a flicker of pain cross her eyes at the mention of a babe, but she stubbornly said yes again.

“Then I promise you I’ll never do anything to humiliate you and I won’t tell Robb either,” he promised, before he gathered her in his arms and kissed her forehead.

“Thank you, Jon,” she answered, as she nestled her head in the crook of his neck, while Jon hugged her closer. He was committed now. There was no turning back. He had promised her. He only wished he knew, if everything she had just told him was true or if she was simply lying to herself about what she really wanted.

“…I want to love you and for you to love me. I want to have a family with you,” Sansa’s words flooded his mind, but he quickly pushed them back and buried the memory.  

Chapter Text

Sansa

Sansa was staring at her wedding dress through the looking glass, running her fingers over the fine details she and her mother had carefully embroidered on the fabric. It was the finest thing she had ever worn, made out of pure white silk. Far better than anything she had ever dreamed of wearing at her wedding, even when she had been dreaming of marrying a prince. The best gift she had ever gotten from her mother or anyone else for that matter.

Her mother had come to her -when Sansa had still been recovering from her illness, a day after her lord father had announced the date of the wedding- carrying a large piece of fabric. Catelyn had had tears in her eyes, she remembered, as she had sat down next to her bed and then, she had told her that even though she had wanted the day of her first daughter’s wedding to happen under different circumstances and for it to be a joyous event instead of the farce this was going to be, she had still wanted her to look as beautiful as possible. So, afterwards, she had begun making her the gown, until Sansa had been well enough to join her and help her finish it.

Sansa knew that her mother was never going to accept this marriage, but she would always cherish in her heart the moments they had spent together making this dress. She understood how hard this was for everyone and most of all how difficult this was going to be for her and Jon and she often had her doubts about it. What if this was a huge mistake? Could they ever make this work? What if it was all for nothing?

“This is the only way… I’ve lived and seen every outcome. You have to marry him to save everyone,” a voice whispered in her mind, putting a stop to her nervous thinking. She had no idea where she had heard that from. It felt as if it was an old dream she had once had, but the details were blurry. She never remembered to whom the voice belonged to or when she had first heard it, but every time the voice had come to her mind, it had given her peace and renewed courage, making her believe in her decision. From the moment her father had asked her to marry Jon, to the time she had lied to Robb to stop him from ruining everything, to the last day she had had to convince Jon not to back out, and finally now. Maybe it was her conscience trying to help her come to terms with what she had already decided, or perhaps the Old Gods were guiding her to the right direction. She’d never know. But she trusted her instincts and now they were telling her that marrying Jon was the right thing to do.

A knock on the door was what pulled her out of her inner rambling.

“Come in,” she called and then she watched as the door slowly opened to reveal her brother.

“Seven Gods! You look beautiful, Sansa,” Robb said as he took her in and Sansa gave him a smile, knowing his reaction was a genuine one. She could only hope Jon shared his opinion.

She was aware of how beautiful her gown was, but when she had tried to make the rest of her look appealing, she had had a hard time deciding what the better way to wear her hair would be. In the end, she had decided to just let it down, remembering a time she had heard Jon talking with Robb and Theon and telling them how he disliked the way the girls wore their hair in the south and how he preferred them long and free to the touch. Even though she was certain that he had never touched a girl’s hair before, and she wasn’t sure where Jon had even seen these strange hairstyles he had described. Maybe in one of their father’s trips to White Harbor that he and Robb had attended and that she had never been allowed to make herself, as it had been deemed dangerous for a girl of her age.

“It’s time. Are you ready?” he asked, pulling her once more from her thoughts.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she answered and then took his offered arm.

“If you want, we can still stop this. You don’t have to go through with this.”

“Robb…” she said and the tone of her voice made him give her a bitter smile.

“I know, you love him. It’s just me who desperately wants to stop this madness,” he admitted and sighed.

“Robb, it’s going to be alright,” she said, the voice running through her mind again, giving her hope and courage.

“Just know that I’m here for you, if you change your mind. I’ll grab you and we’ll run,” he offered and it made them both giggle.

“I know. I’m always counting on you. You’re my knight in shining armor. But I’m doing this for Jon. I can’t just abandon him. I know you’re worried about him too and you want him to be safe.”

“I do,” Robb admitted, lowering his eyes to the ground.

“Then let’s go! Everyone is waiting for us.”

“Let’s go,” Robb agreed reluctantly as he guided her out of her chambers. The next time she would walk through this door, it would be as a married woman.

˜*˜

Jon

Jon felt as if his heart was going to burst out of his chest, while he waited under the heart tree for Sansa to arrive and the ceremony to begin. As the night sky loomed ominous above him, he could sense everyone’s gaze on him and hear the whispering. Even if he couldn’t, he remembered how they had all regarded him with distrust from the moment they had arrived and had called him a bastard dragon behind his back and sometimes even to his face, when his father had not been not around to hear them. How they had thought Ned was making a mistake to give away his precious daughter to him and how some of them had begged him to reconsider and give Jon over to Robert, and marry Sansa off to one of their own, to strengthen their alliance.

“Jon, relax. Stop brooding so much. You’re about to get married,” came uncle Benjen’s voice from beside him. At least he was glad his uncle was here and he would stay by his side until the ceremony was over. Even though he was a brother of the Night’s Watch, they had all agreed that he should be the one to officiate the wedding on Jon’s side, as his closest relative, since Ned would be the one to give Sansa away.

“Oh, here she comes,” Benjen said suddenly, and Jon, lifting his eyes off the ground for the first time in a while, watched as Sansa, letting go of Robb’s arm -who had escorted her here from her chambers- was given a cloak by Lady Stark and then linked her arm through their father’s, before they both started heading their way, passing between the lit up lanterns on either side of them.

From the very moment he saw her, she took his breath away by how beautiful she looked and Jon couldn’t help but stare. This was a moment he had dreamed of many times. To someday wed a beautiful woman in front of Winterfell’s heart tree, with his family as witnesses. But Sansa was part of that family and Jon didn’t know how to feel and what to make of the fact he got excited when he saw her. Sansa had never been a part of his dream and yet she was the best thing he could have ever asked for. If only she wasn’t his sister.

The wolves had not been allowed in the Godswood during the ceremony, but Jon could now hear them clearly howling through the night’s silence, as if they knew what was about to happen and they were mourning or celebrating- he couldn’t tell. When Sansa was finally in front of him, however, all the noise stopped. The whispering, the howling- it was as if they were the only two people left in the Godswood, as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” his uncle’s voice pulled him out of his trance.

“Sansa, of House Stark, comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?” his father answered and then turned his eyes to him.

“Me, Jon Snow,” Jon began to answer, after an uncomfortable pause, what he and his father had agreed upon for him to say, his name rolling awkwardly off his tongue.

“…her cousin by blood, always and forever loyal to House Stark. I claim her. Who gives her?”

“Eddard of House Stark, her father, the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North,” his father replied once more, never taking his eyes off him.

“Lady Sansa, will you take this man?” uncle Benjen asked then and Jon moved his eyes back to Sansa’s.

“I take this man,” Sansa replied with certainty, staring into his eyes, until Ned took her hand and placed it in Jon’s. Then, with joined hands, they both knelt under the heart tree, right where Jon had found her lying all those days ago, with the direwolf pups all around her. Right under the weirwood’s carved face, where they now both bowed their heads in submission and silent prayer, asking for the Gods’ blessing, but in Jon’s case, asking mostly for their forgiveness.

“Jon Snow, here in front of the Gods, do you agree to take your bride’s name, that of House Stark, renouncing all previous titles and names you might have had, passing the name Stark to all of your future children?” uncle Benjen asked then, while he and Sansa were still kneeling in front of the weirwood tree.

“I agree,” Jon answered, fighting the lump that was stuck in his throat. He had waited all his life to be called a Stark and he couldn’t believe the way by which he had actually accomplished it. He didn’t know, if he should be feeling happy or ashamed.

“Then, you may both rise as Sansa and Jon Stark and then you may bring your bride under your protection,” Benjen finished and they both rose, Sansa’s hand still clutching his, until Arya and Bran came to his side, offering him the cloak he was meant to place on his bride’s shoulders.

Sansa, removing her hand from his own, chanced a look in his eyes and then carefully undid the cloak Lady Catelyn had given her, the moment she and Robb had arrived. The cloak was made of white wool and white fur and it was embroidered with two small sigils on either side of the fabric. On the outside, a small grey direwolf for her father’s House and on the inside, the sigil of House Tully, that of her lady mother’s. In its place -and after taking it from his siblings’ hands- Jon fastened a white wool cloak bordered in grey fur, with a big grey direwolf embroidered at the center. He too was a Stark now and he could give her the cloak of the House he chose to be a part of. He wasn’t a Snow anymore, and he most certainly wasn’t a Targaryen.

˜*˜

Jon downed his twelfth cup of wine as he watched unimpressed people dancing about the hall, laughing and drinking. They all acted like this was an ordinary feast, so he had to try his best to match their high spirits. The wine and ale were affluent and the music and singing loud. It seemed as if everyone had forgotten why all of this was happening, why they were here. The danger they were all in. The King’s words nothing but empty threats. Although they weren’t. Not really. Those threats were nothing close to empty. If King Robert didn’t have the Lannisters to deal with, they’d be already facing the consequences. But the Lannisters weren’t going to last forever as the thing that kept him from coming North with all his forces to demand Jon’s head on a spike. The lions were losing the war and sooner rather than later, his family would have to deal with whatever that meant for them. His family. His wife. He was a Stark too now and this was the saddest day of his pathetic life.

As he poured more wine from the nearest pitcher, he felt a strong pat on the back and almost dropped his cup on the table.

“Hey,” a voice said. Jon turned his head slowly and saw Robb watching him through blurry eyes. His brother had a strange look on his face.

“Hey, yourself,” Jon replied, slurring the words from all the drinking, before he brought the cup back to his lips.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Robb asked, trying to mask his anger. Drunk or not, however, Jon knew him too well. Robb was clearly furious with him.

“I’m just trying to have a good time, Robb. Besides, this is my wedding feast. I think I’m entitled to drink as much as I want. I’m only enjoying myself,” he said and downed another gulp of wine.

“If you want to enjoy yourself, go dance with your wife instead of drinking Winterfell’s whole wine supply. You’ve been here by yourself all night and she has danced with everyone but you. We’re trying to make a good impression on the other Houses, trying to make you look good in their eyes, so that they support you, and you’re just sitting here, getting drunk,” Robb told him in an accusatory tone and Jon dragging his tired and blurry eyes back to where people were dancing in the middle of the Great Hall, found Sansa changing dance partners and starting a dance with Theon.

“I think she’s doing fine. She has Theon,” Jon commented as he pointed with the hand still holding the cup towards the couple dancing in the distance.

“No good would come from me dancing anyway. I’m as clumsy as they come,” he said and then finished his cup with one long sip.

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” Robb retorted through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, well… Today has been nothing if not embarrassing for me. A few more drinks can’t hurt.”

“What about Sansa? You’re embarrassing her too. Don’t you care about that?”

“Why would I care about embarrassing Sansa? I’m sure she feels just as humiliated without my help. She just got wed to her bastard brother in front of the entire North. If she wasn’t as uptight as she is, she would be up here drinking with me.”

“How dare you? After everything I told you!” Robb yelled furiously. Luckily the voices and the music were too loud to get anyone’s attention. Not that he really cared in the state he was in. Besides, they were all probably as drunk as he was.

“Oh, yeah… the secret about Sansa’s feelings for me,” Jon said and then snorted in laughter as he brought his hand to his face and supported his head, leaning heavily on the table.

“This is a laughing matter to you?” Robb asked enraged and Jon only laughed harder.

“I suppose now that we’re already husband and wife, it doesn’t really matter, if you know or not,” he said and looked again for the pitcher, but when he tried to take it, Robb pulled it out of his reach.

“What are you talking about?” his brother asked and Jon rolled his eyes at him.

“Sansa lied to you, Robb. She told me so herself. She was just trying to get you off our backs. She doesn’t love me. I’m only the half-brother she always liked to call me.”

“She said that to you? She said she lied?” Robb asked, his anger suddenly replaced with shock.

“Yeah! Pretty much. Now, can I have my pitcher back please?” Jon asked, slurring his words again, but Robb, instead of giving it back, filled both their cups and then downed his in one big gulp, making Jon laugh, before the latter took his own cup to drink.

“To my beautiful bride,” he said, raising his cup in the air, still laughing, before taking a long sip of his drink as well. Although no one had seemed to be paying them any attention until now, his action caused a few heads to turn their way and then, a fat man Jon thought was Wyman Manderly, Lord of White Harbor, stood from his seat to make a speech.

“Lord Stark,” he called, looking towards his father, who had just been dancing with Lady Catelyn, not too far from where Sansa and Theon were. Slowly, the dancing stopped and the music and voices died down, as everyone turned to look at the man.

“It’s been a lovely ceremony and a lovely feast. But I think it’s time we moved to the next part of the night. The bedding,” Lord Manderly said and the whispering started again. Jon could feel the blood drain from his face and when his eyes found Sansa, he saw that she mirrored his reaction, with how pale she looked and with her fists balled at her sides. Jon could feel his own knuckles turning white from the way he was clutching the tablecloth.

“We understand how strange this situation is, with your daughter and nephew having been raised as half-siblings until recently, if we are to believe that no other member of your family knew anything about this, and I’m sure Jon is a good lad and all, worthy of our protection,” he went on, while all the members of his family were now looking uncomfortably at each other.

“…But naming him a Stark in the Godswood and avoiding to bring up his Targaryen name during the ceremony doesn’t make it so. House Manderly has been loyal to House Stark for hundreds of years and this is the only reason we accepted to bring our men into this war against the King himself. Another war started because of a Targaryen, like the one that cost hundreds of our kin’s lives. I know Jon is innocent of the crimes of his father, but if we are all going to act as if it is a Stark we’re protecting here and we’re risking our lives for and not a Targaryen, we need to have our assurances. We need to know that this wedding is not a sham and it’s going to be a fruitful one. We need to know where this boy’s loyalties truly lie. Who he truly considers his family.”

“Lord Manderly, forgive me, but I don’t understand why you would doubt that. Jon has never known another family, but our own. Even without the wedding, he shares a deep bond with every member of this family and Stark blood runs through his veins,” his father said then, interrupting him.

“Word has reached our shores of a Targaryen Queen in the East, sister to the late Prince Rhaegar, raising an army to come to Westeros. So, forgive me, if I’m not ready to trust Jon here not to betray us and join his aunt in her conquering war, if she asks him to, in the name of his real father, once again bringing havoc to the North.”

“I think it’s safe to say, my lord, we, as well as Jon, already have our hands full getting ready to fight one war. If you think that Jon will decide to suddenly abandon his family for a woman he doesn’t even know, you’re mistaken. Jon is a Stark through and through. From his looks to the integrity of his character and if you knew him half as well as I do, you'd know I’m telling you the truth.”

“I’m not trying to judge Jon’s integrity here, but the fact remains that he and your daughter haven’t even exchanged a glance from the moment they were wed and one thing I’ve learned through my many years of experience is that a man’s real family is the one he chooses. The woman he marries and the children she bears him. I’m not expecting your daughter to get immediately with child, especially now with all the dangers your family is facing, but I will not be tricked into believing in a fake marriage, arranged only to serve your purposes. So, I think it’s in everyone’s best interest that we see this marriage consummated. And if it please you, my lord, we’ll allow you to choose who the witnesses are,” Lord Manderly finished and words of agreement were heard from every corner of the Great Hall.

Just like that, the Starks had fallen into their own trap for believing they could get through this marriage unscathed. Worst of all, it wasn’t Manderly’s words, the fury Jon could feel radiating off of Robb at his side or the anger reflected on all the faces of his family and those loyal to the Starks that made his heart race, even in his drunken state. But it was Sansa’s scared eyes, when her gaze locked with his what made him realize that all the promises and rules the two of them had set for each other, when they had agreed to take this step, were about to be broken, and he couldn’t for the life of him find a way out of this.

Chapter Text

Sansa

Sansa’s chambers had never been brighter with light than they were this night. Candles were lit everywhere around and for a while the only thing Sansa could hear was the wax melting and falling on the candlesticks, as the fire crackled in the hearth. As soon as the sound of low murmurs could be heard, however—when everyone started filing into the room, taking their seats close to the foot of her bed, with just the thin material of the bed’s curtains that were drawn closed between her and them—the redhead tried to focus on the sound of her own heart, which was beating faster than ever before, blocking out everything else, as she stared at the canopy.

These chambers that had always been her personal sanctuary were now the last place she wanted to be. Although she wasn’t completely naked under the covers and the curtains would certainly blur their view to an extent, offering her a small sense of privacy, her hands were grasping desperately at the furs covering her body, in an attempt to protect her modesty for as long as possible, as she felt everyone’s eyes watching her through the curtains, even if it was just her blurry figure they could see. These were the eyes of people she never wanted to look back into. Faces she wished she would one day forget.

But even when she closed her eyes, she could still feel their presence as they sat there, waiting, and remembered each of their faces. All four of them. Wyman Manderly, the lord of White Harbor and the man that had pretty much forced them into the situation. Rickard Karstark, the lord of Karhold and head of all the Karstarks, who were kin to the Starks and shared with them the blood of the First Men. Maege Mormont, lady of Bear Island and younger sister to the lord commander of the Night’s Watch, and finally, Theon Greyjoy; heir to the Iron Islands and her father’s ward. A member of her own family.

Even though, Lord Manderly had suggested that her father could choose whom he wanted as witnesses to the bedding, in the end, both he and lord Karstark had demanded to be a part of the witnesses. Their justification being that they couldn’t be certain that Ned Stark wouldn’t trick them by choosing only members of his own family and people only loyal to him, who could easily lie to the rest about the bedding being completed. So, her father had been left to choose the other two witnesses and right now Sansa didn’t know what was worse. Having three strangers staring at her as Jon bedded her for the first time? Or having Theon inside the room, a person she was bound to see every day for as long as they all still lived in Winterfell? Although Sansa knew that the only reason Theon was there was because her father felt more comfortable knowing there was someone he could trust with them, she still couldn’t help but feel really strange about his presence there. At least it wasn’t her father or Robb, right? Why would anyone want a member of their own family witness something like this?

These questions kept running through her mind as she waited, but the moment she heard the doors to her chambers being suddenly thrown open, all thinking stopped. For the first time in a while she took her eyes from the bed’s canopy and cowardly looked towards her chamber’s entrance. The curtains somewhat restricted her vision—which was probably for the best since it meant the same was true for the witnesses—but the half-naked figure of her now husband was unmistakable. An inebriated Jon Snow was pushed inside the room by squealing and laughing girls, as if this was any other bedding ceremony. The way he looked was pitiful in Sansa’s opinion, if the way he kept stumbling about was anything to go by, but she couldn’t really blame him for reaching this state after the day they had had. In fact, she was rather jealous of how drunk he was and she wished she herself was half as intoxicated to get through what was about to happen.

Earlier that day, kneeling under the weirwood tree, she had accepted her fate that Jon Snow, now Jon Stark, would be the only man she would ever call her husband and so, she had prayed to the gods to help them someday look past their troubles and manage to have the normal marriage and life she had always dreamed of. Nevertheless, being hopeful for their future didn’t mean she was ready for that life to start so abruptly and especially under these circumstances, and watching the way Jon had been drinking all night was proof enough that he wasn’t the least ready for it either.

She had hoped that with time she and Jon could learn to look at each other differently and that eventually, if they were both comfortable with it, they could consider taking their marriage to the next level, to a more physical level that would grant them children and make them a real family. But having to do so today, when they were both still seeing each other more or less as siblings, and under the scrutinizing eyes of the witnesses, made her tremble with fear and anxiousness.  

As Jon started walking closer to the bed, the double doors were forcefully shut behind him, making him flinch and turn one last time to look at them, before his head momentarily turned to the other four people in the room. Sansa could barely make out his face through the curtains and didn't know what he was thinking, but Jon seemed to have frozen in place. Sansa herself could feel her heart beating at her throat, until finally she saw Jon turn his head towards her again and then watched him take his final steps. When he reached the side of the bed, he hesitantly opened the curtains and their eyes met for the first time. Though inebriated, his eyes looked frightened and Sansa knew that her own eyes mirrored his, as they just stood there staring at each other, making no move to close the distance between one another. The good thing was that for their part, the lords and lady, as well as Theon, had the decency to stay silent and not pressure them to begin, but Sansa knew it was only a matter of time before the two lords lost their patience and so, she decided that she should be the one to make the first move.

With trembling hands, she uncovered her body from the furs she had just been holding onto for dear life, sitting upright on the bed, and motioned for Jon to join her. Shutting his eyes tightly, for a moment he looked like he was about to fall over, but instead—allowing the curtains to close behind him—he unwillingly climbed in next to her.

Jon was wearing a thin linen tunic that was left open at the front, letting his chest free to the touch and reached the top of his thighs, almost where his smallclothes ended—although they went a little lower and closer to his knees—leaving the rest of his legs bare. Being so close to him, she could smell the wine on his breath, which reminded her of how much he had struggled with this. She wanted to comfort him and comfort herself as well, but she didn’t know how. Neither of them wanted to be here, yet they both understood that this bedding was a necessary evil.

With a reluctant hand she closed the distance and touched his bare chest, feeling his uneven breathing and his racing heart. Jon had his eyes closed again and Sansa could only guess of the battle that was going on inside his head. Sparing a quick glance towards the blurry silhouettes of their audience, she knew there was impatience there although she could not clearly see it and so, even though she didn’t want to push him, she once again took the initiative and kissed him.

The moment their lips touched, Jon let out an involuntary pained gasp, but then pressed his lips harder against her own. If she thought that her heart had been racing before, then certainly now it was about to burst out of her chest. Suddenly, she could feel strong arms around her and she was being pushed back on the bed, with Jon following and climbing on top of her, guarding her face from their eyes and creating a false sense of privacy.

For a while they just stared at each other, before Jon dived in to kiss her again. Shutting her eyes, her arms found their way around his body of their own volition, pulling him closer, and after a few moments of kissing, Sansa felt him grow hard against her thigh. When she tried to reach for the laces of his breeches, however, Jon suddenly pulled back again and, opening her eyes in confusion, she saw there were tears in his. Sansa’s breath got caught in her throat before Jon buried his face in the crook of her neck and she heard him whisper for the first time.

“I’m so sorry. All of this is my fault. I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me, Sansa,” he said and she knew that none of the others in the room could have heard him.

“There’s nothing to forgive. It’s not your fault. I’m sorry too,” she whispered back and kissed his forehead, as she felt him nodding against her.

Still with tears in his eyes, Jon lay next to her and started unlacing his smallclothes, before he clumsily got rid of them entirely and crawled back on top of her and between her legs. Sansa was left staring at his manhood that was now standing at attention and for some time neither of them moved. The sound of someone clearing their throat, however, brought them back to the present and Sansa with trembling hands started pulling at her night rail to uncover more of her body, until it reached her stomach.

She was wearing no smallclothes underneath and she didn’t miss the way Jon’s eyes widened at the sight of her, naked, or the way his manhood twitched. Earlier, when she had been getting ready for the bedding, she had thought it would be easier for them this way and that they would be done faster when the time came, if she just wore her night rail and nothing more. In the end, she was thankful for her decision, because she didn’t know whether she would have found the courage to remove her smallclothes now.

Another tear rolled down Jon’s cheek and it made Sansa want to cry as well, as he settled closer between her thighs and took his member in his hand, stroking it gently up and down, until a wet, clear almost, substance started leaking from the tip. His face was back on her neck and she could hear and feel his shaky breaths, before he started whispering again.

“I’m so sorry. Please tell me if I hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you,” he said for her ears only and Sansa found herself nodding against his head, while hiding her face in his dark curls, before she opened her legs wider for him. He didn’t enter her right away, however, but rather tried to smear the substance on her womanhood and only after he was satisfied that she was wet enough to ease the process, did he do anything.

“I’ll enter you now, alright?” he asked in a whisper and Sansa nodded once more. Although her hands were holding tightly onto the tunic on his back, from fear of the pain that was coming, nothing could have prepared her for what she actually felt. Jon went in slow, but the tearing feeling once he got inside her was unbearable. She wanted to scream and to cry, but she wouldn’t give any of the people in the room the satisfaction to be disgraced even more than she already had been and she also didn’t want to make Jon feel bad. The pain she felt wasn’t his fault. He was being as gentle as he could be with her, but the ache was inevitable.

They were both breathing hard now and Sansa couldn’t prevent the tears from forming in her eyes. After he let her adjust to his size, Jon started thrusting slowly and steadily in and out of her, until he lifted his head to look at her and saw her tears. Suddenly, he stopped all movement, while buried deep inside her, and worry flooded his features.

“You’re in pain,” he whispered and it wasn’t a question. Sansa wanted to reassure him that no, she wasn’t, so that he’d continue and get it over with, but she couldn’t pretend. She was in pain and she couldn’t hide it from him. Jon immediately tried to pull out of her then, but Sansa, locking her legs around his hips, stopped him.

“I’m not going to keep hurting you,” he said stubbornly and Sansa gave him a sad smile.

“We have to keep going,” she whispered back, but he shook his head negatively and before long she felt him starting to go soft inside her.

“Jon, we have to keep going,” she told him again and then kissed his pouty lips, trying to get him in the mood again. Her attempt wasn’t very successful, however, and so, she decided to take a different route.

Pulling her hands from where they were clutching the tunic on his back, she started unlacing the front of her night rail until her breasts were exposed. Jon gulped at the sight and Sansa was glad to feel him grow hard inside her again. Her new husband didn’t share her relief though, and she could see how horrified he was by his reaction. He didn’t want to want her and yet he couldn’t resist her and it was all Sansa needed to go on. Taking his hands in her own, she guided them to cup her breasts, as Jon let an involuntary moan escape his lips.

“It’s alright. I’m alright. I promise,” she reassured him, brushing his curls away from his eyes with her slender fingers and caressing his cheek. Jon only nodded then and kissed her palm which was still resting on his face, before he started moving again inside her as slowly as he could, this time never taking his eyes off hers, probably worried she was lying to him, tracing her face for any sign of pain.

The signs, though, never came. It was still painful, but the worst part was over. Even though she still didn’t enjoy it, she was comfortable enough to not let it show on her face and be patient until it was over, and before long, it was. Jon’s thrusts became faster, deeper and uncoordinated until, at last, she felt him pulsing his seed inside her womb—slowly halting his movement—as he tightened a little his grip on her breasts and a deep growl came from his throat.

Thereupon, he removed his hands and covered her chest with her night rail, pulling on the laces to keep it closed, before he leaned down to kiss her forehead gently, as if he was once again apologizing. She could see he was the one in pain now, his eyes still looking red and puffy, as he carefully slid out of her to lie down on the bed. Sansa didn’t make a move to cover the lower half of her body, leaving the evidence of their coupling that she could already feel dripping out of her for the witnesses to see, even though she knew that thankfully it was only her silhouette they could make out through the curtains. Waiting for this nightmare to finally end, her eyes remained fixed on the bed’s canopy as one by one the lords and lady got up, all agreeing it was done, and silently left the room, leaving the couple alone for the very first time.

Only when she heard the doors shut behind them did she realize how bad she was trembling. The tears she had kept back all this time, trying to be strong for Jon and herself, were now coming with a vengeance and once she closed her legs and covered herself with her night rail, her chest started heaving painfully and turning away from Jon, on her side, she began crying freely. She felt violated, not because of what she and her former half-brother had done, but because of the circumstances they had to do it under. Because they were forced to do it. They had stolen what could have been a beautiful memory in their future from them. They had tainted it. Jon was probably feeling even worse than her, since he had never wanted this. He had been crying during their coupling and Sansa during the entire time had thought her heart might burst not only from all the anxiousness but also from the pain she could see in his eyes. And for that, she hated all of them. She hated them for putting that look on his face. She hated them for witnessing their union and she wished she never had to see them again.

She didn’t know for how long she had been crying before suddenly she felt Jon move from the other side of the bed and heard him forcefully open the bed’s curtains, almost ripping them in the process. When she turned to look at him, it was in time to see him on his knees on the floor, still in his linen tunic and nothing else, emptying the contents of his stomach inside her chamber pot.

˜*˜

Jon

He felt like the agony would never end. All the earlier drinking had left him with a sick stomach and a severe headache, but no physical pain could compare to what he was feeling in his heart and his soul. He had violated and disgraced her and yet he had taken pleasure in it while doing so. The feeling of her underneath his body, the feeling of her breasts in his hands and her wet warmth around his cock had been the best thing he had ever experienced. She had been his first and he knew she would also be his last. For that there was no doubt in his mind, even though they’d probably never sleep together ever again. He would never look at another woman after her.

He hadn’t realized it until he had been buried deep inside her, but he had been lying to himself all along. He had been lying about his feelings for her. He had told everyone that he could only ever see her as his sister, trying to convince no other than himself. He had wanted to believe it so badly, but deep inside he had always known it was a lie. A lie both Father and Robb had seen through, even Arya and everyone else. But none of them had wanted to argue with him, so they had all acted as if they believed him. Everyone except for Lady Catelyn, who every time she’d look at him, her icy eyes would tell him she already knew all of his depraved thoughts and secrets. All the jealousy he had felt towards Theon made perfect sense now. He had drunk himself to oblivion during the feast, telling himself he was doing it because he didn’t want this marriage, but the truth was that he had been only trying to forget that Sansa didn’t feel for him the way he felt for her. He wished she had never told him the truth. He wished she’d let him believe the lie she had told Robb. He wished it had never been a lie and she loved him. Nevertheless he was Jon Stark now, he had never felt more like the Targaryen he actually was.

During the act he had thought that he couldn’t possibly ever feel more ashamed of himself and that shame had brought tears in his eyes. But he was wrong. The moment she turned away from him and started crying on her pillow, while her shoulders and her entire body heaved violently, his heart broke into a million pieces and he felt like the worst man alive. He had done that to her. Everything she was suffering from was all because of him. Because of who he was. Because she was trying to protect him. Finally, his body couldn’t take the realization more than his heart could and he ripped the damn curtains that had offered them little to no privacy open and ran to the chamber pot he had noticed in the corner of the room and started emptying his stomach. He should never have allowed them in here at all, even if it was just their silhouettes they could see and their heavy breaths they could hear, and he should never have taken advantage of her.

He couldn’t tell how long he had been hunched over the pot, but after hearing soft footsteps approaching him, he suddenly felt Sansa’s delicate hand on his shoulder, as she knelt beside him, her sweet scent enveloping him and comforting him from the horrible smell of sick coming from the chamber pot.

“Jon, are you alright? Do you need me to call Maester Luwin?” she asked in a worried voice. If he didn’t know any better, he’d never tell from the tone of her voice that she had just been crying her eyes out. There was only concern there. How sweet and perfect was she? She was still worrying about him after everything he had done to her.

“No… no, I’ll be fine. I should probably go to my own—” he started to say, but before he had a chance to finish, he was vomiting again in the pot, making his eyes water in the process and feeling his body shaking from the exhaustion, until Sansa’s hand started rubbing comforting patterns on his back.

“It’s alright. You’re alright. Let it all out,” she said soothingly close to his ear and then he felt her kiss his damp from sweat hair near his temple.

“I’m sorry, Jon. I know this was really hard for you,” she said and hugged him, as he stayed hunched over the pot, staring at his own sick. What was she talking about? Hard for him? Hadn’t she noticed how much he had lusted after her during the bedding? How could she still be trying to find excuses for him? And what about her? How bad and hard it had been for her? Her tears afterwards had been a clear sign of that.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

“No, you’re not. You didn’t want this any more than I did. They forced us into this. They’re the responsible ones. I’m sorry I cried. You shouldn’t take this personally. All of it was just too overwhelming for me.”

“Of course I should. I’m the one who hurt you,” he said miserably and looked at her for the first time in a while. Her eyes were dry, but still looked red around her blue irises and he was certain that his eyes didn’t look any better.

“No, you didn’t. A little pain was inevitable. I expected it,” she said and caressed his hair.

“I’m not talking about the physical pain, although I’m really sorry about that too,” Jon confessed and she smiled sadly at him.

“I felt no other kind of pain because of you. Just the physical one. I was just too embarrassed because of the way it happened. It’s not how I imagined my first time would be like. In front of a bunch of strangers and Theon, staring between my legs. I know they probably couldn’t see much, but I felt their eyes on me all the same. Their presence in the room tainted this memory for me.”

“I wish I could believe you,” he muttered and looked down at the pot once more.

“You should. ‘Cause it’s the truth,” she said and kissed his temple again.

“Do you think you’ll be sick again, or can we go back to bed?” she asked and started caressing his back.

“I think I’m good for now… but I should go to my own chambers.”

“I understand you want to, but we both know it’s not possible while there are all these strangers roaming the halls of the castle. You have to sleep here.”

“I know… you’re right. I’m just being stupid. I could sleep on the floor—”

“No, Jon. You’re not going to sleep on the floor. I think that after what just happened between us, sleeping in the same bed shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

“I guess…” was the only thing he said. He couldn’t tell her how much he wanted to hold her in his arms and make her forget about everything. Make her forgive him.

“Do you need help?” she asked when they were already standing on their feet, and although he shook his head negatively, he still found himself leaning on her all the way back to the bed. After she dropped him gently on the edge, she then helped him lie down on his back, lifting his legs and laying them on the mattress. When she was finally done and he tried to thank her, however, his eyes fell on his manhood, which was still stained with her secretions and his own, as well as the blood from taking her maidenhead, only then noticing and remembering he was still naked from the waist down.

Sansa following his gaze blushed.

“Oh, I can bring you something to clean that up,” she said and hurriedly left him to do just that.

When she returned, Jon had already started falling asleep and so, when she asked him if he wanted her to do it for him, he didn’t really realize what he was agreeing to, until he felt her small, soft hand on his member, while she used the other to clean him up with a wet cloth. For once he was thankful he was so exhausted and his cock couldn’t react to her touch, but her attentions had once again woken him up.

Offering him a tight smile, accompanied by a deep blush on her cheeks, she moved away from the bed and then Jon’s eyes followed her as she proceeded to place her hands underneath her night rail to clean herself too with the very same wet cloth she had just used on him. Thereupon, she dropped the cloth on the floor, next to the chamber pot he had been using and, moving to the other side of the room, she picked up another chamber pot, which Jon soon realized was the one from his own chambers that had been probably brought here for him along with his other possessions.

After bringing it right next to his side of the bed, in case he had need of it during the night, she opened all of the bed’s curtains that had separated them from the witnesses’ scrutinizing gaze and secured them on the bed’s posts before she moved about the chambers, putting out all of the candles, leaving only the light from the fire that was burning low in the hearth to illuminate the room. Finally, she climbed on the bed next to him, covering them both with furs, and then bid him goodnight. The last thing he saw, as his eyelids started to get heavy, was her beautiful red hair spread out onto his pillow and from that moment he knew that was the only sight he’d ever want to fall asleep and wake up to.  

Chapter Text

Sansa

It was late and the sun was already high in the sky, filling her chambers with light and warmth, when Sansa began to stir awake. However, it wasn’t the sun’s light that made her open her eyes, but the warmth emanating from Jon’s body from where it was pressed against her back, with one of his arms around her middle and the other underneath her neck and pillow. Suddenly, memories from the previous night came to her mind, making her shiver, and immediately she felt Jon stiffen in response.

“Forgive me,” he said in a raspy from sleep voice, trying to distance himself from her. But before he could do it, Sansa grasped the arm that was around her middle and stopped him, laying her arm over his.

“Don’t. I don’t mind,” she replied and she felt him relax around her once more, as she started stroking softly the short hairs on his arm.

She knew that Jon must have been exhausted after the night he had had. Sansa had had trouble sleeping herself and so, she had heard him each and every one of the six times he had retched and emptied his stomach inside the chamber pot she had brought next to his side of the bed. When the day had finally broken and the first soft pink and orange colors had painted the room, Sansa had watched him as he had tiredly gotten up from the bed, taking the chamber pot with and placing it next to the other. He had then proceeded to relieve himself inside one of the two, standing with his back to her, and thereupon he had started searching for his smallclothes. After he had put them on, he had removed his tunic, which he had stained with sick and had moved to the basin that had been filled with fresh water from the night before, and had washed his mouth and his hands, also splashing some water on his face. When he had finally returned to the bed, Sansa had pretended being asleep and so she had not reacted as he had gathered her in his arms, before they had both once more fallen asleep.  

“How are you feeling?” he asked, burying his face in her hair at the back of her neck, before she felt him breathe her in.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly.

“You?”

“Terrible,” he said after a small pause and his answer made her turn in his arms to face him. When their eyes met, she lifted her hand and brushed his dark curls away from his forehead, the same way she had done the night before, pulling them behind his ear. Her action made Jon smile sleepily at her, just as he started caressing her body over her night rail, at the spot where his arm had been lying, returning the affection.

“Does your head hurt? Do you still feel sick?” she asked, now softly stroking the side of his face that was not touching the pillow, while her other hand was left on his bare chest.

“My head does hurt, but I don’t feel nauseous anymore,” he said, staring into her eyes with his brown ones.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m sorry I got so drunk last night. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s alright. It was hard for both of us,” she cut him off and then moved her face closer to his, bumping his nose with her own, while she placed her arm underneath his and started drawing absent patterns on his lower back with her fingers.

“Do you… Does it hurt you down there?” he asked then, with their noses still touching, and even though they were so close, she could still see the way his face flushed.

“Not really. It just… it feels a bit strange,” she answered and then lowered her face to avoid his eyes. She was the one blushing now and Jon took advantage of the fact to place his lips firmly on her forehead and kiss her, while his hand came to the side of her neck, moving his thumb slowly back and forth over her soft skin.

For a while neither of them moved. Jon’s lips remained on her forehead, as his breathing slowed, and as she closed her eyes, their soft caresses were the only indication they were still awake.

“I don’t regret it, you know,” she muttered, breaking the silence. Jon said nothing in return, but Sansa knew he had heard her the moment he had stopped moving his thumb over the skin of her neck.

“I know you may not feel the same way, but I don’t regret marrying you and making love with you. I just wish it hadn’t happened the way it did. I just wish it was just you and me,” she confessed, feeling tears coming to her eyes and before she knew it, she was sobbing in his neck, as Jon held her tightly against him.

“Shhhh… We’re going to be fine. I promise. I won’t let anyone else hurt you ever again,” he told her as she cried harder, wetting his neck in the process. Jon, however, didn’t seem to mind. His strong arms around her felt so welcoming and safe.

“I hate them, Jon. I hate them. I feel so ashamed. I don’t want to see them ever again.”

“I know, sweet girl. It’s alright. You don’t have to see them,” he said and started kissing her hair repeatedly on the top of her head.

“Jon, how could Father let this happen to us? Why didn’t he stop it? Why didn’t he protect us?” she asked, moving her head backwards to stare inside his eyes.

“I don’t know… I don’t think he realized what he was agreeing to. How bad it would be. I don’t think they could see much but it was terrible all the same, having them in the room with us.”

“I’m so angry with him, Jon. He didn’t even try. Not even Robb or Mother could—” she began to say, but the tears wouldn’t let her finish her sentence.

Jon said nothing to defend him, like he’d usually do, and Sansa knew it could only mean one thing. He was just as angry with him. But it made sense that he would be. Jon had never wanted to have such a relationship with her and he had been forced to do it in the worst possible way. When she had told him earlier that she did not regret sleeping with him, he had not said a thing, probably because he didn’t agree with her and didn’t want to upset her.

“I don’t want to see any of them. I don’t want to leave the bed today,” she confessed as Jon leaned down and placed his lips on each of her eyelids, kissing her tears away.

“You don’t have to see them. You can stay in bed for as long as you like. I can go and bring you food here, if you want,” he said just as he moved his lips to her hair again.

“No, please don’t leave me!” she said and tightened her grip around him. Jon was the only one she felt comfortable and safe with, after what had happened the previous night, and she didn’t want to be alone.

“Shhh… don’t worry. I won’t! Go back to sleep. Since we’re not planning to leave the bed any time soon, there’s no reason for us to be awake. I still feel so tired,” he murmured in her hair, sounding sleepy, and then kissed the top of her head.

“Me too,” she agreed, letting her eyes drift closed, and before long, after their breathing had calmed, they both gave in to sleep, holding onto each other.   

˜*˜

Jon

The next time Jon woke up it was to the sound of heated whispering. His headache had mostly subsided, but he still felt too numb from sleep to open his eyes. At first, he had thought the one whispering had been Sansa, and that she had already woken up before he did. However, he soon realized that was not the case. Sansa was still sound asleep in his arms, her slow and steady breaths warming his neck.

“Cat, let them sleep. They’ve been through enough already,” a voice said, which Jon realized belonged to his father. By the sound of it, he was talking with his wife.

“Let them sleep? Have you lost your mind, Ned? The sun has almost set and they’ve been sleeping all day. Sansa needs to eat and bathe and get away from that bastard! I need to see how’s she’s doing. My poor girl—” Lady Stark whispered back angrily at first, before her voice broke and she sounded like she was in tears.

“Look, Cat, I know you’re still angry with me, but you need to stop taking it out on Jon. He’s my nephew and as of yesterday our daughter’s husband. I don’t want to ever hear you say another word about him. None of this is his fault. I won’t have you disrespect him anymore.”

“Disrespect him? You think I’m disrespecting him? Seventeen years ago you rode off with Robert Baratheon and came back a year later with another woman’s son and ever since that day I’ve felt nothing but shame because of him. His whole life he’s been an insult to our marriage. Finally after all these years I find out all of it was a lie and instead of that being a good thing our whole lives are being destroyed all over again. All because of him. He’s the one responsible for everything that’s happening and here we are, rewarding him with the hand of our daughter. Our beautiful, innocent daughter. You do realize he disgraced her last night, don’t you?”

“They were both doing their duty. They are wedded. There’s nothing shameful about a bedding ceremony. Even one with witnesses. And I made sure none of them saw anything anyway. Theon reassured me that they didn’t. I had to ease their minds. They had to believe this marriage is real,” his father said, but he didn’t sound like he believed it either.

“How can you say that? Do you even listen to yourself, Ned? You let the likes of Manderly and Karstark walk all over you! You gave them your blessing to watch as your bastard took our precious daughter’s innocence,” Lady Stark hissed back.

“Do you think I wanted that? Do you have any idea how horrible I feel about that? I had no choice, Cat. They had already made up their minds. They didn’t believe us. They had come here only to insult us and convince the others as well. I had to do it. I had to agree. Do you have any idea how great the forces under their command are? They’re almost half the Northern army. Without them we wouldn’t stand a chance against Robert.”

“Still… we could have found another way. I never agreed to this match, Ned, and every step of the way I’ve been proven right. I know you did what you did because you’re trying to protect him, but what of our daughter, Ned? You have allowed your own daughter to get hurt, because you wanted to protect your nephew. Where does it end? Where do you plan to draw the line? How much more does she have to suffer until you see that?”

“Sansa is a strong girl and she agreed to this match of her own free will. Jon would never do anything to hurt her and if I have to choose between having them both die or make love, I choose the second. Because make no mistake, my love, without the support of the other Houses we have zero chance of surviving. The Tyrells have already joined Robert in his war against the Lannisters and I’m sure others will follow too. What will happen when all these soldiers march for the North? Because you know as well as I do that Robert is not one to let go of his anger,” his father said in a low voice, before they both stopped talking for a while.

“So, this is what we have reduced our daughter to, then? Politics and war? I’m wondering. Is that what you’ll tell Sansa when she asks you why you didn’t protect her and let them humiliate her?” Lady Catelyn asked, still whispering, and thereupon Jon heard footsteps fading in the distance, before the chamber’s door was opened and closed. Then, opening his eyes carefully, he found his father standing alone by the foot of the bed, his eyes closed tightly, as if he was in pain.

“Forgive me, my children. You have no idea how sorry I am. I’m only trying to protect you. Please find it in your hearts to forgive me,” he whispered after a moment of silence, thinking they were both still sleeping. But upon hearing his words, Jon didn’t know how to feel.

He was still furious with his father, because Sansa was hurting, and to his utter incredulity he had found himself agreeing with a lot of what Lady Catelyn had said, even if most of it had been against him. But on the other hand, he couldn’t not see the point his father had made. The one thing he was certain of was that he was unwilling to have that conversation, while Sansa was still sleeping in his arms. So, afraid that his father might see him, he quickly shut his eyes again and opened them only after he heard the door open and close for a second time, finding the room empty.

˜*˜

The days after the wedding had come and gone in pretty much the same manner. Everyone had been avoiding everyone, always being on edge and angry and Jon had found himself spending most of his time with Sansa, much to their guests delight, who would often comment on what a beautiful couple the two of them made. The bedding ceremony as well as the united front they presented, looking like younger versions of the lord and lady of Winterfell, seemed to have convinced them of the devotion and love the two of them shared and luckily, none of the witnesses had dared to say anything after the torture they had put them through, staying mostly out of their way.

Their family, naturally, was an entirely different matter. Sansa had not been in the mood to talk to anyone else about that night except for him, always taking refuge by his side and even going as far as to avoid her own lady mother, which had consequently resulted in Lady Catelyn constantly glaring at him and Jon being reminded of her conversation with his father that day in Sansa’s chambers. Of course that was something he was already used to and so it hadn’t really fazed him when it had started happening again, but the thing that had, had been Robb and Arya’s cold behavior towards the both of them, which continued to this day.

Robb was allegedly angry at Sansa for lying to him, according to her, but Jon could see right through him. His anger towards his sister was nothing but a front, one he used to hide how painful it was for him that she was shutting him out. Robb had always been her favorite, the one she’d always run to when she was in trouble or sad and Jon knew how helpless Robb must have been feeling with everything that was happening; and the fact that she was always by Jon’s side, confiding everything in him, didn’t make things any better. It only helped for Robb’s anger towards Jon to grow.

His brother was still furious at him for going through with the bedding ceremony and not stopping it, and he never failed to show him how mad he was with every chance he got, while they were training in the yard. The only thing that kept him relatively at bay -trying to pass it as simple competition- was the fact that there were still strangers in the castle and they all needed to appear united. But Jon had definitely earned more bruises the past few days than he was accustomed to. At least he was happy to give just as many back and more, especially when they were sparring with Theon. Theon, who had thankfully listened to his warning and avoided being in the same room as Sansa ever since the bedding. Theon had never been that obedient before, but it looked like having Ghost stand on the Ironborn’s chest and growl at him, had done the trick.

As for Arya, she was giving them both the silent treatment. Jon knew that deep down she understood that this wasn’t their fault and they had been forced into the situation, but she felt betrayed by them all the same. Jon had promised her that nothing would change and he knew that Arya had forgiven Sansa, believing she had only agreed to the wedding because she wanted to help him and that neither of them expected this to be real. But none of that mattered to their little sister anymore. Everything had already changed.

He as well as Sansa could no longer pretend being brother and sister. They were both wedded and bedded, sharing the same chambers every night, and everyone in Winterfell knew about it. They were truly husband and wife. Nothing about this marriage was a sham anymore. Only Sansa’s feelings towards him. But the previous night had been the last time she had to endure him in her bed, even though she never showed him that she minded having him there. Instead, she was always rather sweet to him about it, cuddling close to him during the cold nights, making him hope that maybe she could someday return the feelings he had started having for her. The newlywed bliss, however, was about to come to an end.

The last of the lords that had come for the wedding had left Winterfell at the first light of day, and so there would be no reason for them to share chambers anymore. Naturally, Lady Stark had wasted no time to inform him of the fact the moment the lords had announced their departure, and Jon had reluctantly agreed, knowing that Sansa would want her bedchambers back to herself. Even though he didn’t want to stop sleeping in the same bed as her, he understood that she probably did and so, without telling her anything, he had prepared himself for their parting. So, for their last night together, he had held her closer to him, had laid more kisses on her hair and had spent more time looking at her as she slept in his arms than actually sleep himself; and when the morning had come, he had refused to get up, pulling her back to his chest and making her giggle.

“The maids have already started moving your things back to your chambers, so you don’t need to worry about moving them yourself,” came suddenly Lady Stark’s voice, as they all broke their fast, pulling him out of his thoughts. When he lifted his eyes to look at her, he noticed everyone staring at him. Luckily, it was only the family sitting at the table.

“Mother, Jon doesn’t have to—”

“I’ve already discussed this with him, Sansa, and it is something he wants also,” Lady Stark interrupted her daughter, as Sansa sweetly tried to defend him, even if it was not in her best interest. The redhead’s confused eyes found his own then, from where she was sitting next to him.

“Is it true? Do you want to go back to your chambers?” she asked, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was hurt by it. But Jon knew she just felt bad for him for having to move back to his tiny bedchamber, which didn’t even have a hearth to keep him warm. This was something he had confessed to her, while they were lying in bed one night, after she had asked him how it felt like for him to be sleeping in her chambers, and then, he had started telling her of the benefits, making her laugh.

“Yeah… I think it’s for the best. I mean… with everyone leaving, there’s no reason to pressure ourselves anymore,” the lies rolled off his tongue, making him hate himself more and more with every word coming out of his mouth. He didn’t think it was for the best. Lady Stark did. And not sharing her chambers with her was the last thing he wanted.

“Oh…” was the only thing Sansa said.

“Well, it was about bloody time!”

“Arya! Language!” Lady Stark scolded her daughter.

“What? It was!” Arya said, defending herself, and Jon saw Robb nodding in agreement next to her. His father was the only one who didn’t seem to have a reaction to this, but kept staring at his plate, while the rest of them expressed their opinions around the table.

“But Sansa and Jon are married now. Aren’t they supposed to sleep in the same bed like you and Father?” came Rickon’s sweet voice then, while Bran next to him showed he agreed. It seemed that their two little brothers were the only ones who were supportive of him and Sansa these days.

“It’s not always that simple, my sweetling,” Lady Stark explained, although she was wrong. It was that simple. Jon was Sansa’s husband now and they were supposed to be sleeping in the same bed. But everyone else thought otherwise, so there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“I think it’d be good for all of us, if things went back to normal,” Robb was the last to say anything on the matter, as Jon glanced at Sansa for one more time before they all went back to eating. Sansa didn’t touch her food for the remaining of the meal.

˜*˜

By nightfall all of his possessions had already been moved back to his own chambers, and so, later, Jon was lying awake in bed, changing positions in an attempt to get comfortable, willing himself to go to sleep, but failing miserably. Coming back to his chambers and his bed, without Sansa’s warm body next to him and her auburn hair on his pillow had proved to be more difficult than he had originally thought. On top of that, he didn’t even have Ghost with him to distract him. His own direwolf, the traitor, had refused to leave Sansa’s chamber, sleeping on the rug next to Lady in front of the hearth, and so Jon had been left to brood alone in the dark.

As the night wore on, his restlessness was getting worse and worse. So much that he was thinking of giving up on sleep entirely and getting up from the bed, when suddenly he heard two soft knocks on his door.

“Come in,” he said, leaning back on his elbows to see who it was at the door, expecting it to be either Robb or Bran. When the door was finally opened, however, his breath got caught in his throat.

It was Sansa who stood in the entrance, bathing in the light coming from the corridor, wearing just her night rail, while her hair was loose over her breasts and back.

“Jon, are you sleeping?” she asked in a soft voice, closing the door behind her, immersing the room into darkness once again, and padding on the stone floor with bare feet.

“Sansa, sweetling, what are you doing here?” he heard himself ask, when he was over the initial shock of his nightly visitor.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she answered, fidgeting by the bed.

“Can I sleep here?” she asked then, taking him by surprise.

“You want to sleep here, with me?” he asked disbelievingly, instead of answering.

“Yes, if you don’t mind,” she replied, but sounded unsure.

“I don’t mind,” Jon said in return and immediately made room for her on the bed, lifting the furs for her to get under, while she climbed in next to him. It wasn’t until a few moments later, and when she was lying in his arms with her head resting on his chest, breathing steadily in her sleep,  that he finally let a sigh of relief escape his lips, before he muttered, “Thank the Gods,” and then sleep claimed him as well.

Chapter Text

Sansa

Sansa woke up slowly, feeling loved and secure, as she lay in Jon’s arms, using his bare chest as a pillow. His heartbeat was loud and steady in her ear; his skin was soft and warm under her cheek; and all she thought at that moment was that she could stay like this, with him, forever. A lifetime by his side wouldn’t be that terrible. In fact, she was starting to believe that being married to him was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

Every day that passed made it harder and harder for her not to notice all the little things that made him Jon. Not Stark or Snow or Targaryen. Just Jon. Things she had never tried to pay attention to before. Things she had never known. Like, how adorable he looked when he frowned or he was confused. How pretty and kind his eyes were, when he smiled that special smile she had only ever seen him share with her. How inviting his lips seemed, especially when he was pouting, or how soft his dark curls were to the touch.

Playing with his hair had become sort of an addiction for her. Every night when they’d lie in her bed, she would eventually start running her fingers through his hair as they talked; brushing away a curl that had fallen in his eyes or simply touching his hair at the back of his neck. And Jon would always let her, lying there and enjoying her caresses, much like Ghost. Master and wolf seemed to always like it when she was petting them, and Sansa was happy to indulge them both.

Jon was handsome. It was a fact that she’d always been aware of. The times in the past when she had caught the servant girls gawking at him, when he’d either been training with Robb in the yard, showing off his muscles, or simply passing by them, hadn’t been few. She knew his face and his body, even though he was still very young and not a man grown yet, were pleasing to the eye. But now she had come to realize that Jon was so much more than that. He was kind and thoughtful. He was sweet and caring; and every day she spent with him made her love him all the more.

All of a sudden, she couldn’t picture being married to anyone else. Jon was just like one of the heroes in the songs she liked so much, and no one else could even compare. He made her feel safe and loved and she trusted him completely, and even though it hadn’t been that long since their wedding, she had already started falling for him. Her lie to her brother was slowly but surely becoming a reality, and there were times, when he’d look at her in a certain way, and she’d think that he might be starting to feel the same way as her. And although she tried not to read too much into it, the relief she had seen in his face when she had come to him the previous night had made her heart flutter and had driven her into his waiting arms faster than ever before.

As these thoughts kept running through her mind, she slowly opened her eyes to find the room still mostly dark. Jon’s chambers weren’t as bright as her own, with them being smaller and having fewer windows, but she could tell that the day was just beginning to break and she sighed to herself disappointed. Her mother wouldn’t be pleased, if she found out she had spent the night in Jon’s bed, so she had to return to her chambers before anyone else woke. It infuriated her that they had to be put through her family’s judgement when she and Jon were already married, but she had to be patient, and she would be, for Jon. Because she didn’t want to give her mother any more reasons to hate him. Her mother needed to be eased into these new developments slowly, and hopefully, she would accept Jon as Sansa’s husband in the end.

With a heavy heart and while looking at Jon’s peaceful from sleep face, she carefully disentangled herself from his arms and got up from the bed. Her movement caused Jon to stir, but thankfully he did not wake up. She wasn’t ready to handle the disappointment in his eyes, if he were to catch her trying to leave his chambers in secret. Later she would explain why she left, but for now she had to go. Even if for a moment it felt impossible for her to move, as she spared one last look at Jon’s sleeping form. All she wanted to do was to return by his side and lay her head back down on his chest. But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she came back to her senses and finally walked out of his chambers.

“Sansa?” a voice startled her just as she closed the door. Sansa turned around to find Theon staring at her. It was the first time she was seeing him face to face since the bedding and she felt a lump forming in her throat, rendering her unable to speak.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to scare you,” he said, taking in her frightened expression.

“Were you in Jon’s chambers?” he asked then, and Sansa saw how his jaw clenched while his gaze travelled to the door behind her and back to her. This time, the nerve behind his question made her find her voice again.

“What if I was? What’s it to you? Jon is my husband, as you of all people very well know,” she bit back bitterly.

“Sansa, I—”

“So, did you get a good look? Was it pleasing enough for you? Was it close to what you see and do every time you walk into the whorehouse? Would you like me to call Jon for a repeat performance? Is that why you’re here?” Sansa asked one question after the other, unable to stop herself. She was just now realizing how badly she had wanted to yell at him or at anyone for that matter for days. How her anger towards Theon and all the others who had witnessed the bedding had only bottled up and had multiplied.

“Sansa, please, I did not—”

“Why did you agree, Theon? How could you agree to something like that? You knew how difficult it would be for me. The last thing I needed was a member of my own family watching while Jon took me for the first time,” she said angrily, trying to keep her voice down, not wanting to wake anyone up.

“I’m sorry, Sansa… I know I shouldn’t have agreed. Please, forgive me. I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable. I just— I had to make sure— I only wanted—”

“What? What could you have possibly wanted? What did you get out of this?”

“I had to make sure that no one mistreated you. That Jon did not hurt you.”

“Jon? You were worried about Jon?” she asked, her words dripping with sarcasm.

“Jon is nothing like you. He would never hurt me.”

“But he did hurt you. I know he did. Even before the bedding. When he was drinking himself to death and was ignoring you. I saw how you kept glancing sadly towards him while we danced. And then during; none of us could see much through the bed’s hangings and thankfully so—not that I even tried or let any of the others—but I heard you. I knew you were in pain and crying, while he was lost in his lust, enjoying himself, and it took everything for me to not get up and rip him away from your body.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. It was nothing like that,” Sansa retorted and then started walking away from him, while she huffed furiously. But soon she felt Theon tailing after her.

“Wasn’t it though? Is it a lie that he refused to even share a dance with you? Is it a lie that he instead kept drinking all night, while you danced with me and other guests? All he did was make a spectacle of himself, embarrassing you and your father in the process, in front of the whole of the North. His actions and his behavior were what led to the bedding. So if you want to blame anyone for that, blame Jon,” Theon yelled after her and Sansa was surprised that no one had appeared yet at the corridor, as she stopped walking and then turned around to look at him. The way he was speaking gave her the impression that he had been thinking about this a lot.

“It wasn’t Jon’s fault. It was hard for both of us and he was only trying to find a way to cope with the situation. They had already made up their minds about the bedding, before the wedding ever started. They never trusted us and it was obvious from the moment they set foot in the castle.”

“Who told you that? Jon? Or is it something that you believe?” Theon asked, his tone annoying her even more. Sansa said nothing but only looked away. Theon was trying to make her doubt Jon, but she would never trust the Ironborn over him.

“Everyone saw the way Jon looked. How completely out of his mind he was during the whole feast, reeking of wine and stumbling all over the place. Your father and brother did too. Robb even tried to get him to stop drinking, but to no avail. And then those lords, after watching him embarrassing himself the whole night, came up with the idea of a public bedding and challenged Lord Eddard to the point he couldn’t refuse them.”

“Stop trying to turn this against Jon. Jon was as much a victim as was I.”

“Do you truly believe that? That he was a victim? I specifically recall him moaning in lust draped over your body, while you lay there suffering through it.”

“Don’t you dare claim to know anything about how Jon and I felt. You may have been in the same room, but you have no idea what was actually happening between us. How protective Jon was of me and how much he was suffering too.”

“I see he already has his hooks deep inside you. But that’s how our Jon is, isn’t he? Always the charmer. Having all the girls lusting after him. Jon with his pretty hair and his pretty eyes and his pretty lips.”

“What do you want, Theon? I don’t understand why you’re following me and telling me all this,” Sansa said angrily, while her heart kept beating furiously in her chest.

“Did Jon ever tell you how your father tried to get you out of the bedding? How he asked Jon if he could perform in the state he was in, in front of the others, hoping he would reply negatively, and how Jon said that he could?”

“That’s a lie. Why are you lying?”

“I’m not lying. Didn’t his highness tell you that?”

“Stop it, Theon. Leave me alone. This is not funny. Stop following me,” Sansa yelled at him and then started walking again as fast as she could away from him and towards her chambers.

“The reason your father asked me to be a witness was because he was worried not only about the other witnesses, but about Jon as well. He thought that he wouldn’t be able to handle himself with you. So did Robb. So did I. And that’s why I agreed. Because they couldn’t, and someone needed to be there to protect you in case something happened. So, if you want to be mad at me, fine. But at least you need to know the whole story. You need to know why I agreed to do what I did and why we all thought it necessary,” Theon kept talking, while tailing right after her.

“Jon never hurt me. The only ones who did were the three of you with your stupid ideas,” Sansa suddenly turned around and bit back through gritted teeth.

“So, the ones who actually tried to protect you are the bad guys? If it wasn’t for Jon’s childlike behavior none of this would have happened. Jon wasn’t the victim. He was the one who caused everything. I may have been only a witness and can’t possibly know every little thing that was happening between the two of you, but as a witness, I happen to know what the other witnesses thought and talked about as well,” Theon said and Sansa looked at him uncomfortably.

“Now that I have your attention, you should know that what I’ve been saying is not just an opinion. When I was left alone with them, before we came into your chambers, I heard them talk about it. I heard them say how they felt as if Jon was mocking them. How they thought he was being disrespectful to his Northern guests. Disrespectful to the very House that raised him and was now trying to protect him. I heard them talk about how Jon was using you and he had no intention of ever having a real marriage with you. Of how he was starting to embrace his Targaryen side. They said he was just like his father, his real one, once more playing with the lives of thousands of people,” Theon said angrily, but then composed himself when he saw the tears that were forming in Sansa’s eyes.

“I’m sorry if it’s difficult for you to look at me, but I only did what your father, brother and my own conscience compelled me to do. I only wanted to keep you safe. And you needn’t be ashamed of what any of us saw.” At the sound of his words Sansa stared at him. How could he say that when they had violated her privacy and modesty in such a horrific way?

“None of the witnesses saw anything,” Theon explained, noticing her angry expression. “The hangings were thick enough to cover you from our view, but even so, I made sure none of them even looked your way. The two lords were just being arrogant when they demanded to be witnesses, but the moment they came into the room I could tell it was the last place they wanted to be. They looked awkward and ashamed themselves and they kept looking at their hands the whole time. Whenever they even considered of looking up I and Lady Mormont stared them down and they returned their gaze back to their hands. The Lady didn’t even try to hide her distaste for the whole situation and that’s why your father chose her. To make you feel safer and to protect you from those vultures, the same way I did. You have to believe me. I just wanted to keep you safe… and I’m sorry if I failed,” Theon finished and looked like he was going to cry too. She had never seen Theon in such a state and she couldn’t help but wonder, if it was all just an act to manipulate her.

“Sansa, I know you and I have never been exactly close. That to you I’m just someone who happens to live with your family, but— I want you to know that you mean a lot to me and I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. I’d give my life first before I ever let that happen.”

“Theon, why are you saying these things to me? What do you want from me?” she asked, hugging herself defensively and looking away from him, an odd feeling creeping up her spine under his gaze.

“I could never presume to ask anything from you. But I can’t handle you hating me like this. I tried to stay away like Jon asked me to do, but I couldn’t anymore. When I saw you earlier, I had to talk to you. Apologize. Give you my side of the story.”

“I don’t hate you, Theon. But this is very difficult for me.”

“I know… I know it is. Even though I can’t possibly relate, I’m sure it must have been really hard for you. Going through all this.”

“It has…” Sansa agreed and then looked at her feet. Her anger had dissipated, but she still felt like running away, as they both just stood there in silence, not knowing what else to say, until suddenly Theon let out a humorless laugh.

“What?” she asked, confused by his reaction.

“Nothing, I just— I’ve never been more jealous of Jon than I am right now. I mean, Jon and I have always been antagonistic with each other, but this has been the biggest blow.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You. You’re a true lady and the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and I wish I was worthy of you. I wish that I could be the one married to you instead of Jon. I can’t wrap my head around how he got to have you, when he’s been your brother our whole lives and you were the one thing I wanted that he was never supposed to have.”

“What are you saying, Theon?” Sansa asked shocked, her voice barely making it past her lips.

“I love you,” Theon blurted out.

“I have for a while,” he said and paused, looking at the ground.

“…but I never had the courage to express it. And now it’s too late. I got to see Jon marrying and then heard him fucking the girl I love and now I get to see you falling for him more and more with every day that passes and it breaks my heart.”

At his confession Sansa could do nothing but stare, as Theon started wiping unshed tears from his eyes. What could she possibly say to this? She didn’t feel like he was lying to her, but how could this be? When had it happened?

“I think you’re confused. This is just another one of your petty fights with Jon. It has nothing to do with me. I’m just something you think you want, because you can’t have me and Jon does.”

“No, Sansa. I promise. It’s not like that. I’ve been feeling this way long before Jon’s parentage was revealed. Long before it was decided that you two should marry.”

“Theon, I can’t— how—”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. Forgive me, my lady. I’m not expecting anything from you. I only wanted to ask for your forgiveness and relieve you from your worries about that night and now I have. I’ll stay out of your way. I promise. Have a good day,” Theon said and the whole time he was talking he resembled a scared animal looking for a way out. And just like that he was gone, and Sansa was left staring at the empty space he had left in his place, too shocked to move.

˜*˜

Jon

It had been days since Jon had moved back to his chambers and he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong. After that first night Sansa had not returned to share his bed and Jon had not found the courage to ask her why that was or visit her in her own chambers. Instead, the only thing he had managed to do had been to become more miserable and broody than usual.

That morning he had woken up alone in his bed with her smell still lingering on his pillow, along with a long auburn hair, and that had been the only proof she had actually come to him and he hadn’t just dreamt the whole thing.

From one moment to the next she had started pulling away from him and Jon couldn’t understand the reason behind the change in her behavior. As far as he was concerned, they had made a lot of progress in their relationship and they had become really close after their wedding. Her need to come share his bed that night had been proof enough of that. But then everything had changed.

She no longer watched him while he practiced with Robb in the training yard, like she had done so many times since their betrothal. She never visited him anymore while he studied in the library under Maester Luwin’s supervision with the rest of the boys. He had no idea how she was spending her days. The only times he actually saw her were during their meals with the rest of the family, and even though she was still choosing to sit right beside him, she was always distant and silent.

At least their family seemed to appreciate things going back to normal and he had actually managed to get back in Robb and Arya’s good graces. His brother had been satisfied enough by his and Sansa’s distance and had stopped glaring at him at every chance he got or trying to kill him every time they sparred, without Jon having to do anything more to earn his forgiveness. Arya, of course, was a whole different matter. It had taken going to Mikken and having a sword forged for her, which she had then named Needle, and then promising her to teach her how to swordfight to actually get her to talk to him again. But ever since they had started their lessons, her usual smile had returned to her face and they now seemed to finally be in a good place again, as long as Sansa’s name never came up.

Arya was still angry with her sister, which made sense. Jon always knew that when it came to Arya, he’d be forgiven long before Sansa, because the sisters’ relationship was always kind of tense. But at least he was glad that slowly they all seemed to be getting over it and he was sure that eventually Arya would forgive Sansa the same way she had forgiven him. His siblings meant the world to him and it had been hell when they had been mad at him. However, if he was honest with himself, he’d rather have Sansa talking to him than Robb or Arya.

He just couldn’t understand what he had done wrong or when he had done it. Could it be possible that her mother had finally gotten to her head and she was now rethinking their marriage? No, it couldn’t be. It had to be something else. Sansa had spoken often to him about how she didn’t and would never share her mother’s opinion of him and Jon had believed her. He just had to figure out what it was that was bothering her and he had every intention of discovering it before her nameday came, which was now very close. So, he had to take matters into his own hands and that was exactly what he did.

These days it seemed impossible for him to get her anywhere alone, but after some plotting with her handmaid he had finally managed to trick her into going to the glass gardens, where he waited for her, a winter rose already in his hand.

“Jon?” Sansa muttered surprised, the moment her eyes fell on him.

“I was told Mother—”

“I know... Lady Stark isn’t here. I’m the one who sent for you. Here, this is for you,” Jon said, coming closer to her to give her the rose.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” she said as she took it from his hand and brought it to her face and smelled it.

“You’re welcome,” Jon said in return and stood there awkwardly watching her as she carefully caressed the rose’s petals.

“I— I wanted to see you. We haven’t had the chance lately to spend any time with each other, and I thought—”

“To trick me into meeting you here?” Sansa asked, a small smile playing on her lips. Her voice didn’t sound accusatory, but it still made Jon want to apologize to her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have just asked—”

“Yes, you should have, but since we’re here…” Sansa interrupted him and then started moving among the plants and roses that were all around them.

“Sansa?” Jon called her name then, staring at her back, as she took in everything around her.

“Have I done something to hurt you? Is that why you’ve been so distant lately?”

Sansa stopped moving then and said nothing for a while.

“I— I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“What does that even mean, you don’t know?” Jon asked infuriated. She had been keeping him at arm’s length this whole time and she didn’t even know the reason? Quickly Jon composed himself, when he realized he had yelled at her.

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to shout. I just— I don’t understand what has happened that made everything change between us all of a sudden. The night you came into my chambers, I fell asleep the happiest man and the morning after when I woke up everything had crumbled,” Jon said, coming behind her. He couldn’t help but gather her in his arms, while he buried his face in her hair. He had missed touching her like this.

“Please, just tell me what I did wrong and I’ll fix it,” he murmured in her hair.

“You didn’t do anything. It’s all my fault,” she replied and then turned around in his arms, coming face to face with him.

“Why?” was the only thing Jon could think of saying, as he caressed the sides of her waist.

“That morning, I saw Theon—” Sansa started to say, but the moment the Ironborn’s name rolled off her tongue, Jon was filled with fury.

“I’M GOING TO KILL HIM! WHAT DID HE DO? I TOLD HIM TO STAY AWAY—” Jon kept yelling, while trying to get out of Sansa’s grip, who was the one holding him in place now.

“No, Jon. It’s alright. I— He told me some things and I overreacted. He wanted to apologize for what happened that night and explain to me why he agreed to be a witness and it just… it brought back bad memories and somehow it affected me and I felt the need to put some distance between us. I suddenly felt like things were moving too fast. I realized that I had already started depending too much on you and I didn’t know if it was the right thing to do,” Sansa confessed and Jon felt his heart sink.

“Why wouldn’t it be? You’re my wife and I’m your husband. I want you to rely on me. I want you to know that I can keep you safe and I will. No matter what.”

“He blamed you for the bedding. He said— he said Lord Manderly and Lord Karstark only asked for a bedding with witnesses because of the way you behaved during our wedding feast. He said he heard them talk about it,” Sansa answered, while Jon stared at her.

“And do you believe him? Do you blame me as well? Is that why you wanted to stay away from me?” Jon asked and he felt tears forming in his eyes. Sansa’s words were only confirming what he had known all along. He had been lying to himself, thinking that whatever he had done that night hadn’t mattered and that it would have always turned out this way. But deep inside, he knew the truth. And he knew Theon and Sansa were right.

“Maybe I do,” she replied, pulling him out of his thoughts and crushing his heart in the process.

“But all this time I spent away from you made me realize I don’t care. I don’t care, if it was your fault or not, because it brought us together and it’s all I could have ever asked for. I just want to be with you and not think about this any longer. And if you hadn’t plotted to get me here today, I would have come to you,” she said and smiled at him, while Jon felt a smile of his own forming on his lips.

“Do you mean that?” he asked, staring inside her eyes.

“I do. I missed you,” she said and then let her forehead lean against his.

“Sansa…”

“Mmmm…?” she murmured in return, her eyes closed, savoring the moment.

“I don’t think I can or want to stay away from you anymore. These past few days I’ve missed you terribly and all I could think about was holding you in my arms again,” Jon said, and to emphasize his point held her closer to him.

“I don’t think I can stay away from you either. I want us to be together, for real,” she agreed and before she could add anything more, Jon claimed her lips with his own in a kiss full of love and relief, while a single tear rolled down his cheek.

“What are we going to do?” he asked her after the kiss was over, bringing his forehead back against hers.

“I can’t handle anything like this happening ever again. Everyone here is against us and I feel like it’s only a matter of time before someone else tries to separate us. Your mother, Arya or Robb, if they find out we’ve decided to be together as a true husband and wife, they’ll try to tear us apart again. They’ve only calmed down, because we’ve been distant.”

“Then we won’t let them find out. It will be our secret. We’ll let them believe what they want to believe, but we’ll live our life the way we want it. We’ll just have to love each other in secret.”

“Does that mean that you love me?” Jon asked.

“I think I do,” Sansa answered shyly.

“I think I love you too,” he said back and this time Sansa was the one to initiate the kiss and as her lips melted against his, all Jon could think was that he would never let anyone or anything get between them ever again. Only the winter rose Sansa was now holding between their bodies. The first flower he had ever given her. A symbol of love. A symbol of their secret love.

Chapter Text

Sansa

The day had just broke, when Sansa opened her eyes to the usual sight of her bed’s canopy, like she had done hundreds of times before; and although there was nothing exceptional or great about what she was looking at, she immediately found herself grinning from ear to ear. Because this was not just another day. It was a day that every year filled her, and the whole castle, with happiness. Because during this day fourteen years ago the bells of Winterfell had rung from sunset to sundown to celebrate her birth. Her nameday was always a joyous event, but somehow she knew that this time around it was going to be even more special. Because this was the first nameday she would celebrate as a wedded woman and as Jon’s wife.

Ever since that day in the glass gardens, she and Jon were trying to be careful with the way they acted around their family, in order to keep things between them a secret. They didn’t want their family to know yet that they had decided to give their marriage an actual chance and be a true wife and a true husband to each other, because they were afraid of their reaction. So, even though they had started to slowly explore their romantic feelings when it was just the two of them, they still kept their distance when there was a family member around; or anyone else really.

Sansa was aware, however, that Jon was getting more impatient with every passing day. She could tell just by looking at him, every time they were in the same room together, that all Jon wanted to do was come to her side and be free to be with her the same way they had seen Father and Mother be a thousand times. Even after all these years of being married, the Lord and Lady of Winterfell shared a deep love people admired and were envious of, and they were not shy to show how they felt, even though they were always proper about it, as they should.

She had never known how sweet and loving Jon Snow truly was. But from the moment when he had taken her in his arms in the glass gardens, while being surrounded by the smell of hundreds of winter roses, and then when they had shared their first true kiss, after confessing their feelings to each other—without having anyone witness it or being affected by fever, not knowing what they were doing, but with them both actually wanting it—he had never stopped showing her how he felt and proving it to her with every chance he got.

Every time they were alone Jon would either hug her, or hold her hand, or kiss her lips, always with adoration in his eyes that Sansa had never seen before. She could not believe how quickly everything had escalated. From one moment to the next they were both acting from distant siblings, who had nothing in common, to fools in love, unable to stay away from each other for too long.

Sometimes, she could see the guilt behind Jon’s actions and she felt that the reason he was always so agreeable to everything she wanted to do was what she had confessed when their secret love affair had started. Even though she had told him many times since then that she didn’t care anymore, and that even if the bedding incident was indeed his fault, he was forgiven, Jon still blamed himself and he was always trying to make it up to her by being more sweet and always asking for her permission before he touched her, or did anything to her. And while she appreciated him always being so chivalrous, she still needed him to occasionally act like the wolf she knew was hiding inside him, that animal side of him she had seen glimpses of during their wedding night.

If there was one thing even the presence of the lords and lady, as well as Theon, couldn’t ruin during their first time together, was how good it had felt, although scary, to have Jon’s weight on her body. To have his strong arms around her, while feeling his hot breath on her neck and hearing his low growls of passion in her ears. If it hadn’t been for them or for the pain caused by it being her first time, she knew that she would have enjoyed it, and she was hoping that she would get to actually experience it properly really soon.

The times when Jon’s hands or her own had wandered during their secret get-togethers weren’t many, but every time it had happened, things had gotten out of hand quickly and they had had to stop. Early on their agreement, Jon had suggested they shouldn’t share a bed anymore, until they were truly ready. He had said that now that they had decided to actually give a chance to their marriage, he needed to court her properly, and he wouldn’t be able to do that, if he had her in his bed every night; even though he had assured her there was nothing he wanted more than to fall asleep and wake up with her in his arms.

He wanted their relationship to develop slowly and naturally and forget how fast and abruptly it had started. And although Sansa had agreed and understood what he meant by that, if Jon’s excitement every time things had gotten too far was any indication—like it was the normal thing for any sixteen year old boy—she still missed him terribly at nights and her bed often felt too empty, when it was not occupied by Ghost and Lady, with the two wolves denying to leave each other’s company, despite both of her and Jon’s efforts to get Ghost back to Jon’s chambers with him. It seemed like their direwolves knew what was right and they were doing what both their masters wanted to do themselves, but couldn’t. Lately, especially, it had become more difficult for Sansa to accept their agreement and she had had to often remind herself how dangerous it would be for them to be discovered, if they started sleeping in the same bed again. The one time she had sneaked into Jon’s chambers, she had gotten caught by Theon and she really didn’t need a repeat of that experience.

Theon was yet another thing troubling her. The guilt she would sometimes see in Jon’s eyes when he’d look at her, as a result of the blame he took for the bedding, she knew was what Theon saw in hers. Somehow, his little confession of being in love with her had filled her with guilt, and it hadn’t even anything to do with the Ironborn. She felt guilty not because she was with Jon and couldn’t reciprocate Theon’s feelings—she probably only felt sorry for him if anything—but her guilt originated in her inability to tell Jon the whole truth. Jon was already cross with Theon and she knew that if she told him about how Theon claimed to be in love with her, it would not end well. And although she was telling herself she was keeping it from him for the right reasons, she still couldn’t help but feel bad about it. They were only married for a few weeks now and the lies had already begun.

But these were all things that mattered during the regular days and she wasn’t about to deny herself the chance to spend her first nameday married to Jon by his side as much as possible. So, that was how she found her way into his bed while the rest of the castle and Jon himself still slept.

“Hasn’t anyone told you it’s rude to stare?” Jon murmured in a husky from sleep voice and a slight smirk on his lips, while keeping his eyes still closed. Without realizing it, after crawling under the furs and into his arms, Sansa had spent a great amount of time just staring at his face while he slept.

“How can you tell if I’m staring at you or not? You haven’t even opened your eyes yet,” she told him, amused, feeling his hand starting to move up and down her spine as he woke.

“I don’t need to open my eyes to know. You’re always staring, because you can’t help how handsome you find me,” Jon said teasingly, while smiling, and Sansa hit his chest playfully in retaliation.

“Hey,” he protested and laughed, as he caught her wrist to cease the attack, locking his gaze with hers for the first time.

“I don’t think it is right to strike your husband,” he said and smiled sweetly at her.

“It is, when my husband is being an idiot,” she retorted and then buried her face in the crook of his neck, feeling her cheeks blush, as Jon pulled her closer to him and continued caressing her back and her hair. She wasn’t used to him calling himself her husband and she really liked how that sounded, coming from his lips. That small word of her claim on him made her heart flutter and the only thing better would be to hear him call her his wife.

“What a wonderful surprise this was. I wish I could wake up to this every morning,” Jon muttered then, kissing her head, as she put her hand back down on his chest, and he held it with his own, running circles over her skin with his thumb. She was glad that he had decided to forego a sleeping shirt and she could feel the warmth emanating from his body.

“Well, you could, if you’d choose to,” she answered wistfully, and she knew it was unfair. Of course Jon wanted to, but it was his honor and his respect for the family that kept him away.

“Maybe, but this is a special day, isn’t it?” he said, not sounding irritated at all by what she had just told him.

“Oh? I didn’t notice. And what kind of special day would it be?” she asked, feigning ignorance, as she started moving her hand across his chest, stroking him lightly.

“It happens to be my wife’s fourteenth nameday, so you’d better get out of my bed quickly, before she finds you here,” Jon replied and Sansa stopped her caresses to strike him again. Jon only laughed and brought her even closer to his body, hugging her tightly to him.

“Happy nameday, my love,” he said and then claimed her lips with his own in a kiss.

“I wish I could spend the whole day here with you and do nothing else,” she confessed after a few more moments of kissing.

“Me too… but it’s not really fair for the rest of the family who want to celebrate with you,” Jon said and gave her another kiss on her lips.

“I know… you’re right. I just- I know I won’t be able to be with you the way I want to, when we’re with them,” she admitted and she could see a small frown form on Jon’s face. She knew that it was something that was bothering him too, but he didn’t want to admit and make her unhappy, especially today. Their arrangement wasn’t ideal, but it was better than having everyone mad at them for doing what was the normal thing. Being a wife and a husband to each other.

“Well, it’s not that bad. There will be lots of lemon-cakes and everyone will do whatever you want the whole day and give you lots of presents,” Jon said, bringing her back from her thoughts.

“You’re right. I should probably get up then and go back to my chambers, before Mother starts looking for me. She won’t like it, if she finds me here,” she started teasing him, but soon realized the truth behind her words and sighed deeply, before she brought her nose back to his neck and breathed him in, enjoying his scent that was so purely Jon.

“No, not yet! Stay here… What am I supposed to do without you?” Jon mock-argued and locked his arms around her, refusing to let her go. Sansa only laughed at his reaction.

“I imagine whatever you were doing before I came in here.”

“I was sleeping, but I won’t be able to after you’re gone. It was already too difficult before you came into my bed, wearing nothing but your night rail.”

“Why? You’re having trouble sleeping without me?” she asked amused, but buried her face deeper in his neck and held him tighter, knowing exactly what trying to sleep in an empty bed felt like. It hadn’t been that long since they had started sleeping together and yet she couldn’t sleep alone in her bed anymore.

“Maybe… But I wasn’t the one coming here in the middle of the night, asking to cuddle,” Jon said reminding her of that first night, after Jon had moved back to his chambers.

“I didn’t ask to cuddle,” she protested and tried to pull back and glare at him.

“And yet we cuddled all the same,” he said, laughing softly, as he cupped her face with his hand. But then, his expression became serious again, as he stared at her. First at her eyes and then at her lips.

“Jon?” she whispered unsure, her eyes moving of their own volition to his lips, while biting her lower lip between her teeth.

“Hmm?” Jon murmured and gulped, never taking his eyes off her mouth.

For a while neither of them moved, but only looked at each other, breathing heavily; until suddenly Sansa decided she had had enough and dived in to kiss him, making them both melt into each other and moan with relief. It was nothing like the soft kisses they had shared a few moments ago. Jon’s grip tightened around her, as he pulled her closer to him, and Sansa straddled him, placing one leg on either side of his hips.

With every passing moment, their kissing became more passionate and more aggressive, as they both explored each other’s mouths, with their lips swelling and their tongues fighting for dominance. Their hands were in each other’s hair and their bodies were moving in rhythm with their kissing, and for the first time in her life, Sansa could feel wetness pooling between her legs.

“Sansa…” Jon tried to say, drawing his lips back for a moment, before Sansa claimed them again and tried to find some friction against his hardness that she could feel over her smallclothes, pressing into her center for a while now. She didn’t know what had come over her, but she felt unable to stop.

“Sansa… Sweetling…” Jon said again, as she rocked her hips against his own, drawing a moan from his lips.

“We have to stop or I’ll…” he muttered, but did nothing of the sort. Instead he let her continue rocking against him, placing his hands softly on her hips to urge her on, until she felt him going limp beneath her, while he let out a deeper moan and clutched her night rail.

“Jon…” Sansa moaned his name against his lips, their breaths mingling, when she felt heat building within her.

“Keep going…” he murmured, his eyes closed and mouth open in ecstasy, before he nuzzled her nose with his own.

“You’re almost there…” he said, caressing her hips softly over her night rail, as she started chasing after an unknown feeling. And then, opening her mouth in a soundless scream, she came, and it was everything she had imagined it would be like and more.

“Thank you…” she whispered against his lips, when she was able to breathe and speak again.

“Anytime…” Jon murmured back and smiled, before they resumed kissing lazily, with their urges now sated, both moving to lie on their sides.

For a while they didn’t speak, but only looked at each other, after the kissing had stopped.

“Jon?”

“What?” he asked softly, as they held hands between their bodies, and while he kept staring at their intertwined fingers.

“I don’t know how long I can keep doing this hiding around thing. I want to be with you and for everyone to know. We shouldn’t hide our love like we’re ashamed of it,” she said and then his eyes met hers.

“There’s nothing I’m prouder of than being your husband, you know that.”

“I’m tired of not being able to sleep with you in the same bed and always looking behind our backs to see if there’s anyone around, so we can kiss. We’re married; we shouldn’t be going through all this.”

“What would you have me do? I just got everyone to talk to me again. Robb will kill me, if we tell him.”

“No, he won’t. His problem was that he thought I lied to him about loving you. Now, however, we’re both in love with each other, and it’s not a lie. Robb will understand. He just wants us both to be happy.”

“You want me to talk to him?” he asked, lowering his eyes again to look at their hands.

“No, I will. It’s about time. Besides, it’s my nameday. He won’t be able to refuse me anything,” Sansa said and smiled.

“What about Arya?” he asked then.

“Ugh… maybe you should take care of that. I can handle Robb, but Arya is a whole different matter. If it comes from me, she’ll only hate me more than she already does. She needs to hear it from you to believe it.”

“Arya doesn’t hate you,” Jon defended their little sister, but stopped talking when Sansa looked at him pointedly.

“Fine. What about Lady Stark? We all know whom she hates.”

“Don’t worry about Mother. If our siblings and Father have our backs, she will eventually accept it.”

“I won’t hold my breath till that happens.”

“Come on. She’s not that bad.”

“If you say so,” Jon said, his words full of sarcasm; but Sansa didn’t mind. She knew her mother had been hard on Jon all his life and she continued to be, even though she had no reason to anymore.

“I’m sorry. I promise she’ll change her mind when she sees how happy you make me.”

“Really? I make you happy?” he asked and smiled, before pressing a kiss on her nose.

“You know you do,” she replied and paused, burying herself in his arms.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt happier than when I am with you,” she confessed.

“Me neither,” Jon said back and closed his eyes.

“I should go back,” Sansa murmured, breathing in his scent.

“Yeah, you should…” Jon muttered back, but didn’t make a move to release his hold on her, and Sansa didn’t feel like moving either. After that, silence engulfed them and not much later so did sleep.

˜*˜

Robb had just returned from riding, when Sansa found him near the stables. At first she felt nervous, but when his eyes caught hers and his face broke into a smile, she forgot about everything; and so did Robb, as they started running towards each other. A moment later, and he was lifting her up from the ground, hugging her tightly to himself.

“Robb…” she muttered as she felt her eyes filling with tears, while she buried her fingers in his auburn curls, and hid her face in the crook of his neck.

“Happy nameday, sweetling,” Robb said back and kept holding her like his life depended on it.

“I’m so sorry, Robb. I’m so sorry I lied to you,” Sansa apologized, letting the tears flow freely down her cheeks.

“No, Sansa. You have nothing to apologize for. I know you were only trying to protect Jon. I’m the one who is sorry. I had no reason to get mad at you, but you have every reason to be mad at me. I’m so sorry I didn’t do anything to stop it. I should have put my foot down. By then I knew how you felt, and even if I didn’t, it was wrong what they made you do. I shouldn’t have let Father and the rest do what they did. I’m so sorry. I should have protected you,” Robb told her, before he finally let her back down on the ground and looked at her. He too had tears in his eyes.

“Robb, it’s not your fault. It wasn’t your doing, and there wasn’t anything you could have done to stop it.”

“I could have tried harder,” Robb argued, but Sansa only smiled sadly at him and wiped a tear away from his cheek, as his blue eyes that were the same shade as hers stared back at her.

“Robb, can we go somewhere to talk, alone?” she asked him then, while looking at the people around them, who were trying to act like they were minding their own business and hadn't been staring at the two siblings' interaction a moment ago. Robb looked concerned by her request, but after following her gaze, he only nodded and followed her into the castle and then into the room Septa Mordane usually used when she was teaching Arya and her how to embroider.

“What’s wrong, Sans?” he asked as he took a seat next to her on one of the benches in the room.

“I… How are things between you and Jon?” she asked him back and saw the way he grimaced.

“I don’t really want to talk about Jon.”

“I thought things were better between you two.”

“If you’re talking about the fact I haven’t murdered him yet, then sure. Things are fine,” he replied sarcastically, and Sansa took his hand in her own.

“Robb, I don’t want you to be mad at him because of me. Jon is your best friend. He’s always been your best friend.”

“Yeah, well, that was before-”

“No, he still is. Don’t deny you love him more than the rest of us. I know you’re always acting protective of me, but Jon is the one who’s always been your favorite.”

“He’s never been my favorite. I’ve always loved you all equally.”

“Alright, maybe you do love us all equally, but Jon has been more to you than just a sibling, and I hate what this marriage has done to your friendship.”

“I hate what this marriage has done to you,” Robb said back angrily.

“Robb, I won’t lie to you. Not again. You know it and I know it that the bedding was a terrible experience for both me and Jon, and perhaps a little more for me, because I’m a girl, but it’s something I don’t hold against him, and he has helped me get through. He’s really been there for me and you can’t spend the rest of your life blaming him for it. He blames himself enough as it is and he’s trying to make up for it.”

“How can he possibly make up for something like that?”

“He makes up for it by being sweet and kind to me and showing me every day how much he values me and respects me.”

“What are you talking about? You’re not even talking to each other.”

“But we do. We only try to keep our distance for the sake of all of you, because you’re having trouble accepting us,” Sansa admitted and lowered her gaze to look at his hand inside of hers.

“Sansa… please don’t lie to me-”

“I’m not lying. Jon and I… we… we’ve decided to try and have a real marriage, since the bedding ceremony ruined every possibility to have a fake one, and so far, it’s been going well,” she said and Robb grimaced again, although he tried to hide his disgust.

“What do you mean it’s been going well?” he asked after a moment.

“We’ve sort of… started developing feelings for each other, and exploring being married to each other?” she answered awkwardly, but it sounded more like a question.

“Exploring being married to each other?” he repeated and this time he couldn’t mask his disgust.

“You know… after the bedding we couldn’t just go back to acting like siblings. So, we tried to act like a… husband and wife would.”

“OH GODS!” Robb said dramatically, while hiding his face behind his hands.

“I’m sorry, Robb, I know this is awkward for you, but I can’t take it anymore. Jon and I can’t keep pretending that everything is normal and as it used to be, when it’s not. We’re married and for better or worse this marriage is real. We consummated it and we want to make the best of it from now on.”

“Gods, Sansa… Jon is my brother and you are my sister.”

“But he’s not our brother… not really. You were understanding the last time I told you I had feelings for him, even if it was a lie back then. Why can’t you understand it now?”

“It’s a different thing knowing my sister has feelings for my brother I know he’s never going to reciprocate than knowing you two FUCK each other,” Robb said exasperated.

“ROBB!” Sansa yelled at him scandalized.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Was that word not delicate enough for you? How do you think I feel? Isn’t that what you meant when you said you wanted to have a ‘real marriage’? Isn’t fucking the point of a real marriage?”

“If you’re going to be like that, I don’t want to talk to you anymore,” Sansa said angry and embarrassed as she looked away, remembering what she and Jon had been doing that very morning.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Robb, would it be better if I had married a stranger who mistreated me and didn’t care about me?”

“No, of course not, but-”

“You know how marriages of convenience are. Just because Mother and Father fell in love, it doesn’t mean all marriages turn out the same way. You know Jon; you’ve known him all your life. Do you really think he would ever mistreat me or hurt me? Jon is the nicest person I know, and I know you think so too. That’s why you love him so much. And I know you’ll never stop seeing him as your brother, but he’s not our brother and I won’t have you acting all disgusted around us, when we kiss, or hold hands, or act married,” Sansa said and started crying again. Robb stayed silent for a while and didn’t look at her, but when he did, there was pain written all over his face.

“What’s wrong? There’s something else troubling you; I know there is,” she added, forgetting about her own tears, and ran a comforting hand through his curls.

“I hate that he’s not my brother. I can’t get over it. I’m mad at him for not being my brother. I feel like I’m losing him; like I won’t be as important to him from now on, because we’re only cousins now. We don’t share the same father anymore. I know it might be a good thing, like for Mother, because she was always hurt by him being here, knowing that Father had cheated on her, but for me… having Jon as my brother has been the best thing.”

“Robb, Jon loves you very much. You’re never going to lose him. He will always be your brother, no matter what. I know he feels for you exactly the same way you feel for him, and he’s been just as afraid of losing you as you’ve been afraid of losing him. He didn’t want you to know about us at first, because he thought you were starting to forgive him and he knew you would only get mad again. I don’t want to get between the two of you, but I can’t pretend anymore I feel for him the same way you do. For me Jon is my husband and a cousin, and I’ll never see him as my brother ever again. You are my brother. Bran is my brother; and little Rickon too,” Sansa said as she kept caressing his hair.

“Will you talk to him? For me? Please?” she asked then and Robb nodded reluctantly.

“I’m sorry, Robb. We had no idea you felt this way, but I promise nothing else has to change. Jon loves you the same way he always did. You’re his favorite person in the whole world.”

“I don’t know about that. Now he has you,” he said, but this time he didn’t sound irritated, and Sansa knew things would go well, when he gave her the faintest of smiles.

“Thanks, Robb,” she thanked him happily, smiling back at him, but when she tried to stand up, a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach made everything around her blur, and before she knew it, Robb was holding her upright against his body.

“Sweetling, what’s the matter? Are you alright? Do you need to sit down?” he asked her.

“I’m fine. I think I might have stood up too quickly, and I haven’t really eaten much today,” Sansa reassured him, as she felt her senses coming back to her.

“Well, then, I have just the right thing for you. I might have smelled some lemon-cakes being baked in the kitchen earlier. What do you say? Shall we go eat some?” he asked and Sansa agreed eagerly, before Robb led her out of the room, holding onto her, just in case she got dizzy again. It wouldn’t really be her nameday until she had her lemon-cakes.

˜*˜

Jon

It had been a long time since he had last seen Sansa acting so careless and happy. She and Robb were swirling around the floor, dancing and laughing with each other, as everyone around them were having a great time. Even though she had danced during their wedding feast too, the way she carried herself now and the huge smile on her face resembled nothing from that night. She was genuinely happy and it wasn’t just an act for the people around her; and the rest of the family seemed to share her high spirits. For one night, in honor of Sansa’s nameday, everyone had put all their troubles behind them and were acting like a happy family again. And when Robb had come up to him and had hugged him tightly earlier, he had felt his own heart swell with happiness.

Robb knew, and he still loved him and supported him. Sansa had told him, and Robb had accepted it. He only wished he could have done the same with Arya, as he had promised Sansa. But he had been reluctant to do it today. He had been afraid that Arya might not take it well, and considering her young age, he didn’t know how she could react, and he’d hate to ruin Sansa’s nameday. So, he had put it off, and had been at least glad to see his little sister wishing Sansa for her nameday, after weeks of not talking to her.

He had decided that he would not drink this time. He wanted to remember every single moment of this night and he had promised himself that he would never embarrass Sansa ever again because he couldn’t keep it together. But as he got up to ask Sansa’s hand from Robb for a dance, he wished he had had at least one cup of liquid courage. Sansa’s smile, however, and Robb’s approving pat on his back had vanquished his fears as he took his place in front of her, took her hand in his own and placed the other one around her waist—like he should have done at their wedding feast.

Sansa was radiant tonight and he couldn’t take his eyes off her, as they danced. It was the first time he felt Lady Stark glaring at him and didn’t care. Dancing with Sansa on her nameday was worth every single glare he received, whether it was coming from Sansa’s mother, Arya—although those were mostly directed towards Sansa—Theon, and even Jeyne Poole for some reason. Sansa and Jeyne hadn’t been talking lately, and he didn’t know what that was about, but he was prudent enough not to get caught up in a girl fight. He had enough problems as it was.

“Jon,” Sansa whispered to him as they danced. She looked shy all of a sudden.

“What is it, my love?” he asked her, whispering back. This was a moment between them and he didn’t want anyone else to hear. Other dancers had joined them on the floor as well, and from the corner of his eye, he could see Theon dancing with Jeyne, and Robb with Arya.

“I have a surprise for you,” she said then, biting nervously her lower lip, as they kept swinging and turning.

“A surprise for me? I’m the one who should be surprising you. It’s your nameday, not mine. I haven’t even given you my gift yet,” he told her and smiled.

“I think you already have… The greatest gift you could have possibly given me,” she said back and Jon looked at her confused.

“What do you mean?” he asked, but when Sansa was about to answer, a voice was heard from the distance. A man came running into the Great Hall and the music and voices immediately died down around them.

“Lord Stark,” he yelled, looking at his father. He was wearing all black, looking like he hadn’t bathed in a while, and Jon immediately knew this man was a sworn brother of the Night’s Watch. Suddenly, he felt fear crawling up his spine.

Uncle Benjen, he thought and held Sansa tighter against his body.

“What is the matter? What are you doing here? Who are you?” Father asked, as he got up from his seat at the high table.

“My name is Yoren, milord. I’m bringing news from the Watch and your brother,” the man replied.

“What news? Did something happen to Benjen?” his father asked, looking worried, and everyone waited anxiously for the man’s answer.

“He went beyond the Wall weeks ago, milord, and he hasn’t returned yet. We sent scouts after him, but the only thing they found was part of a dead man’s arm. Something is happening beyond the Wall, and the men are too afraid to go, ’cause there’s too few of us left. I’m the one responsible for bringing in new recruits; so, I’ve come to ask for your help; for the Watch and your brother,” Yoren said and the happy and positive atmosphere from before was gone.

Chapter Text

Sansa

They were all gathered in Father’s solar and Sansa could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she watched everyone pacing nervously around the room, while arguing about what should be done. Jon was the only one who was silent, sitting beside her and holding her hand in his own, occasionally drawing comforting circles with his thumb over her skin.

She was frightened, and she knew Jon could feel it. It was the reason he remained glued to her side, grounding her and solacing her, despite her mother and Arya’s often stares coming their way. She knew that if it wasn’t for the dire situation they were all in, they would make a deal out of it later; but now they both looked just as worried as she was to really care about her and Jon, while the rest kept talking of the best course of action, regarding her uncle and the Watch.

Everything had been going so wonderfully and she had been so happy just moments ago. Now she could only feel dread and despair. Their uncle had disappeared, and Father was now talking about leaving Winterfell with Jory and a few select others to go look for him. But what Yoren had said, the man who had brought the news from the Watch, had sounded so ominous. He’d said something was happening beyond the Wall, and Sansa was certain it wasn’t the wildlings he was referring to. He talked about finding an arm that belonged to somebody who had already died, and suddenly, Old Nan’s scary tales that Bran was always so fond of started running through her mind. Tales of the Long Night and the White Walkers. Creatures so evil and horrid that belonged only in nightmares. What if it was Uncle Benjen, the dead man missing an arm? What if Father went and never returned? They would then have to mourn them both. She desperately needed to know of her uncle’s whereabouts and of what had happened to him; but she wasn’t willing to lose her father over it, and at the realization she felt horrible for even thinking it. Both for Uncle Benjen and for Jon.

Although Jon already had a father, and it was a mother’s love he lacked and needed the most, Uncle Benjen had always been the most supportive in Jon’s life—even more so than Father—and when it came down to it, their uncle was pretty much a second paternal figure for Jon, instead of only an uncle. He had never held back from showing how much he favored Jon among all his nephews and nieces, not caring about Jon’s status or the way he was perceived by others because of it; something even Robb, who was Jon’s best friend, was guilty of. Robb and Jon, as long as she could remember, had both been very aware of their differences. They both knew who the heir was and who the one with not much to long for was; and a few times, for the sake of boys’ antagonistic nature, Robb had not refrained from rubbing it in; like her mother had never failed reminding it to either of them.

So, much like Jon, Uncle Benjen, albeit legitimate himself, had grown up knowing he was only the brother to the heir of Winterfell; first to their Uncle Brandon and then to Father. Because of it, he was probably the one person in their entire family and Winterfell, old enough to really understand Jon’s struggles. Even though her uncle was none of those things, and he had made a great name for himself, serving in the Watch, he understood the weight of being a bastard and an outsider. He had even surrounded himself with such people, choosing a life of solitude, brotherhood, and duty; never to have a family or a wife of his own. Which is what led Sansa to believe her uncle sometimes wished Jon was his. If Jon had been her uncle’s instead of Aunt Lyanna’s, things would have been so much easier for the both of them, and her uncle had seemed to know that, even if he used to believe Jon was her father’s.

Jon, for his part, had always looked up to him and had often talked of becoming a brother of the Night’s Watch like him. Uncle Benjen had made it look like a noble and honorable cause, and Sansa knew Jon probably thought that with him being a bastard and all, serving in the Watch could be the only way to achieve honor and glory. After meeting Yoren, however, and after the conversation that followed, which led to learning what had now become of the Watch, she knew it was not true, and she was glad Jon never had to become a Night’s Watch brother; not only because she got to be with him, but because of the life they lived. Yoren was nothing like Uncle Benjen. He was old and filthy, and although polite, it was obvious he was illiterate. Sansa could bet he even had lice. She couldn’t see anything honorable about living a life like that, and it made her feel sorry for her uncle. But that hadn’t always been the case.

Not too long ago, even Sansa herself had been glad at the prospect of Jon joining the Watch. In the songs, the Night’s Watch brothers were called the black knights of the Wall, and she remembered that despite the fact she and Jon hadn’t been close, she had been happy that in a way he too could become a knight, like their little brother, Bran, who often dreamed of serving in the kingsguard.

Even the first boy she had liked had been a brother of the Night’s Watch. Ser Waymar, son of ‘Bronze’ Yohn Royce of the Vale, had been a handsome youth, who had made her heart flutter for the very first time, when he had ridden north to take the black. Back then, she had even thought she was in love. But that had been before she knew what true love was. Before she and Jon had started falling for each other. It wasn’t that long ago and yet it seemed like a lifetime had passed since then. The life before Jon’s parentage was revealed, back when she had thought of him only as her half-brother, felt like it wasn’t her own anymore.

She was a completely different person now. She had changed so much even from when she had first agreed to sacrifice herself and marry Jon. Although, it hadn’t been really a sacrifice. Back then, albeit wanting to keep Jon safe—which truly was the priority for her, whatever anyone else might have thought—she had also seen their marriage as an opportunity for her to rise; to finally become a princess like she had always dreamed of and a future queen. Jon had even accused her of that, seeing through her machination, because he couldn’t understand why she cared so much all of a sudden, when not too long ago their relationship had felt nonexistent. However, it hadn’t been nonexistent. It had just been weighed down by guilt because of her mother, and in a way she was glad for it. Because if she had thought of him all along as a true brother, like Arya did, she never would have been able to feel for him the way a wife feels for her husband.

But after becoming free to love him and after going through so much by his side, she didn’t care anymore about any of the things that had excited her at first. She didn’t want Jon to become a prince or a king. For her Jon was and always would be just Jon from now on. She only wanted everyone to be safe and for her family to accept them. She wanted for them to spend the rest of their lives in Winterfell, with Robb and her parents and the rest of the family, raising their children alongside them.

At the thought of children, she placed a protective hand on her belly. If her father went beyond the Wall and never returned, he’d never get to meet his grandchild. He’d never get to know that what she had blamed him for and what she had thought of as the worst night of her existence had blessed her with the greatest gift in any woman’s life. The joy she had felt that afternoon, when Maester Luwin had told her he was more than certain she was with child had been unimaginable.

She had never thought it could happen so soon and she had only wanted to appease Robb’s worry, when she had agreed to go see the Maester. And then Maester Luwin had started asking her about her moon blood and of the last time she had had it. Before the wedding, Sansa had only bled once—when she had flowered, during the days of her sickness—so it hadn’t been really in her mind; and now it seemed she wouldn’t get her moon blood for some time.

Suddenly, the prospect of losing Father made her realize how pointless all this anger she had been harboring towards him since the day of her and Jon’s wedding was. She was terrified. She was so scared of losing him that she wanted to run to him and climb on his lap, curl herself into a small ball and cry, like she used to do when she’d been a little girl. Earlier, she couldn’t wait to tell Jon about the babe and now all she could think of was the dangerous world she was about to bring it into.

“…My lord, you know I’d give my life for you without second thought, but it’s dangerous for you to go beyond the Wall with so few men. We should ask the other Houses for help. It hasn’t been that long since they’ve been here, drinking and eating all of our food, and this concerns them as much as it does us. I know finding Benjen is the priority, but if something is really going on beyond the Wall and the Night’s Watch brothers are unable to deal with on their own, then the whole North should try and help them,” Jory Cassel said, pulling Sansa from her thoughts and bringing her back to the present, where all the arguing continued.

“No. I don’t want to send an army up there. An army would attract too much attention. I don’t want to be the cause of war between the North and the Wildlings, when we don’t have the men to spare. Soon, we might have to fight in a different war, and Winterfell needs all its men for its protection. Fifteen men should be enough to arrange a search party for Benjen. I’m sure some of the Night’s Watch brothers will agree to accompany us as well. If the need arises, we will send more men and ask for help, but for now, when we go beyond the Wall, we need to be inconspicuous,” her father said back, and Sansa tightened her grip on Jon’s hand.

“I agree with you, my lord. We should not attract too much attention up there. The North doesn’t have the men to fight two wars; but perhaps you should consider not going yourself. If something happens and you are lost to us, there’s no guarantee that the other Northerners will stay true to their word. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Robb will be a wonderful leader and ruler when the time comes—I’ve trained him myself and I know the kind of man he is—but the other Houses swore their allegiance to you, and I don’t think they would think kindly of bowing down to a boy of sixteen, when they barely agreed to help you. A tested leader and warrior. This thing with Jon has made them suspicious and distrustful of House Stark, and I hate to say it, but I don’t trust their loyalty in these perilous times. Look what they made Jon and Sansa go through,” Ser Rodrik Cassel, Winterfell’s Master-at-Arms, stressed and Sansa felt a shiver go through her body at the mention of her name. It was common knowledge what had happened between her and Jon, but it was the first time she was hearing anyone talking about it so outwardly and loudly, in front of everyone. But then again, Ser Rodrik had never been a man to hold back his words, when the situation demanded of him to take a stand.

“So, what? You expect me to just sit here within the safety of my castle’s walls and not look for my brother? Let him perish? I’ve lost too many of my siblings already. I’m not going to lose another and do nothing about it,” her father argued, as everyone’s attempts to keep him from going seemed to fail.

“I promise you, my lord, we’ll do everything within our power to find him. We won’t give up. I’ll go myself. But you need to stay here for the sake of the rest of your family,” Ser Rodrik reassured him and insisted, but before her father had the chance to protest again, Sansa felt Jon’s hand leaving her own and heard him speak for the first time since they’d come to Father’s solar, as he got up.

“I’ll lead the search party to find Uncle Benjen,” he announced, his voice steady and determined, while everyone stared at him. At the sound of his words, Sansa thought her heart might leap out of her chest from fear.

“Jon, don’t be ridiculous. You especially, out of everyone, aren’t going anywhere. You know there are people who want you dead out there,” her father said then, and like always it was cruel to hear that anyone would ever want to harm Jon.

“I’ve done nothing but hear you talk this whole time about risking your life for Uncle Benjen and us. How can you expect me to stay here, hidden away like a frightened little boy, when everyone else, even those who don’t want to, are risking their lives for me? You know what Uncle Benjen means to me. You know what you and the rest of this family mean to me. How can you expect me to ask for your protection, to ask these men to risk their lives for me, if I’m not willing to do the same? The only reason we’re in danger of having to fight a war with Robert Baratheon is me.”

“Jon—”

“No, Robb. Father, it’s been weeks since you told me the truth about my mother. I know you swore a vow to her to keep me safe, and you have; your vow is now fulfilled. I’m a grown man and it’s not up to you anymore to keep me hidden away and protect me. My life isn’t worth more than Jory’s or Ser Rodrik’s or any other Northerner’s. If you want the rest of the Houses to start respecting House Stark again; if you want them to truly know where my loyalties lie, it’s not a wedding and a bedding that will convince them. They’ll be convinced only when they see me fight alongside them. When they see me fight for the sake of the North. And what better way is there, to start proving them I’m a real Stark than go look for Uncle Benjen? The Starks have always taken an interest in the Night’s Watch, so whatever danger they’re facing now, even without thinking of Uncle Benjen, I want to help them.”

“So, you’re just going to leave your wife, and march to Castle Black, then?” Father asked exasperated, pointing towards Sansa, who brought her arms defensively in front of her belly. She was feeling paranoid that everyone would know her secret when they looked at her, before she met Maester Luwin’s eyes with her own and her fear intensified. She had asked the Maester not to say anything, wanting to surprise Jon first out of everyone. But now she wasn’t sure if she should anymore. Jon wanted to leave, and he hadn’t even thought of what that would do to her. He sounded like his honor was much more valuable than his own life, when for her he was like the sun a flower needed to survive.

Spoken like a true Stark, she thought bitterly about Jon. Suddenly it wasn’t a grandparent she needed to worry her child would never get to meet, but it was its own father. Damn the Starks and their honor.

“Sansa will be safe here and she’ll be fine without me for a little while. I can’t say the same for Uncle Benjen, though.”

“Jon, you’re only sixteen. The lands beyond the Wall hold dangers you can’t comprehend.”

“Before I knew the truth, I wanted to join the Watch and you were going to let me. I know you were. You told me as much. How is this any different, especially when Uncle Benjen’s life is on the line? I was fourteen when I first told you I wanted to take the black. Boys even younger than that have joined the Watch before.”

“This is different. When they didn’t know who you were, nobody would have cared enough to try and hurt you. You would be just another bastard in their eyes. A bastard, however, who came from a respectful line. You were unimportant enough to not get attention to yourself and important enough that even if you did, they still wouldn’t dare challenge you. And I knew that if you went to the Watch, Benjen would be there to look out for you. They wouldn’t let you be a ranger until you were trained properly and old enough to go beyond the Wall. Benjen and I had already had an agreement when I told you I was considering letting you go. Now Benjen is gone and nothing is the same.”

“I won’t change my mind. You don’t have the right to stop me. I’m a grown man and if I decide to go, I will,” Jon said stubbornly and with finality in his voice and Sansa only now felt the tears staining her cheeks.

“You might be a grown man and I not your father, but I’m still your lord and you will obey what I tell you,” Father responded angrily.

“I’ll go with him,” Robb added all of a sudden, interrupting the argument, and when she looked at him it wasn’t Father or Jon he was looking at, but her. It was like he was telling her, I’m doing this for you, little sister, don’t worry.

“Robb—” her Mother shouted then in protest.

“It will be safer, if we both go. Keep an eye on each other. And I too want to help find Uncle Benjen. Ser Rodrik is right, Father. You can’t go and we can’t just sit here and send our soldiers and expect them to risk their lives for our family. No one is going to challenge Jon with me by his side. I trust our men with my life and I know they’ll keep us both safe. But every moment we stand here, arguing about it is another moment Uncle Benjen remains lost,” Robb said, and Sansa saw Jory and Ser Rodrik nodding their heads both in agreement and pride of Robb, before she met Maester Luwin’s gaze again and hurriedly looked away.

She knew that if she spoke up now and told Jon about their child, out of obligation, he would stay back with her, and the Maester was looking at her like he expected her to do this very thing. But Sansa decided to show maturity instead, and put Jon’s needs above her own. Jon was a kind and honorable man, and she never wanted to try and tie him to her by adding to his guilt. He had the need to show to everyone who was doubting him the brave and respectful man he truly was, and even though it frightened her and pained her, she had to let him do it. Ever since Jon had learned the truth, he had done nothing but feel sorry for himself, and this was an opportunity for him to cease this kind of thinking—and, of course, she wanted Uncle Benjen saved just as much as he did. It saddened her to remember he had been the one to stand by Jon when they were wedded under the heart tree and yet she’d been so ready earlier to disregard him.

“Very well, then. If this is your final decision, I consent. I wasn’t that much older than you, when I had my first real fight. This will be a fine lesson for the both of you, but know this; an expedition beyond the Wall is nothing like sparring in the training yard. Ser Rodrik and Jory will lead our men. Not you. You will listen to your elders and you won’t do anything unnecessarily stupid. You will remain close to each other. Remember that when the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives,” her father said finally, after a few moments of silence. She could do nothing more now than pray to all the Gods, old and new, for Jon, Robb, and Uncle Benjen’s health and their safe return.

˜*˜

Jon

The next morning, the first snow of the season had begun to fall, as Jon stood in the courtyard, watching the others getting their horses ready for the journey to Castle Black. When he started heading towards his own horse, however, to make sure everything was alright, before he had to bid Sansa and the rest of the family farewell, he saw her hugging Robb near the castle’s main entrance and changed his course. The moment her eyes met his, a sad smile formed on her face and after giving Robb a last gentle pat on his back and a kiss on his cheek, she left her brother’s side and she too started walking towards Jon, until she met him halfway.

“Hey…” he muttered as he hugged her tightly to him and then gave a gentle but lasting kiss on her forehead. He knew they were being watched, but he didn’t really care. He wouldn’t get to see her for many days, maybe even weeks, and he needed to be as close to her as he could for as long as he still could, before they had to leave.

“Hey,” she said back, and tried to hide her sadness by smiling broader at him.

“So, are you ready? Will you be leaving soon?” she asked.

“Sansa, you understand why I have to do this, don’t you?” he asked her in return, instead of answering. The previous night she had been really supportive of him when they had been finally left alone, and had decided to sleep together in her chambers for the first time in weeks. They’d known no one would dare say anything, considering he would be leaving the next day, so he had taken full advantage of it and had held her in his arms all night and had kissed her until they had no more air left in their lungs. But now, as he watched her looking sadly at him, he didn’t know if she actually understood the reason behind his decision to leave. It hadn’t been his intention to hurt her, but he had to go, for Uncle Benjen. Maybe even for his own sanity.

“I do. I’m just worried. Promise me you and Robb will be careful. I couldn’t bear it, if anything happened to either of you,” she said, taking a step back to really look at him.

“I promise. We’ll have each other’s backs. Nothing will happen. We’ll find Uncle Benjen and we’ll be back before you know it,” he reassured her, before his eyes fell for the first time on the piece of garment she was holding.

“What’s this?” he asked her, pointing at it.

“It’s for you. It’s a cloak I’d started making during the days I was held up in my chambers because of my illness. I finally finished it a few days ago, but I never really got the chance to give it to you. It’s like the one Father has. Now with you going beyond the Wall, I thought it’d be appropriate to give it to you to keep you warm,” she replied and handed it over to him. Jon felt his heart swell with pride and love for his wife.

“Thank you, Sansa. I love it,” he said, and then remembered her cryptic words during the feast on her nameday.

“Is this the surprise you were talking to me about?” he asked, smiling at her. Sansa avoided his gaze for just a moment, but then smiled back and nodded.

“And what about this great gift I’ve given you?”

“You are the great gift. Being able to dance with you last night on my nameday made me really happy,” she answered and Jon pulled her in for a kiss, as soft snow kept falling around them.

“Well, I do have one more gift for you, however,” he said then, pulling back to look at her, before he reached inside the small side pocket of his doublet and afterwards presented her with her gift. He was glad to see her eyes shine when she looked at it. It was a necklace in the shape of a rose made out of silver with a few small blue stones of no real value to complete its decoration.

“I had it made for you for your nameday during my last visit at Winter town, so that every time you look at it, you’ll remember the day we first said ‘I love you.’ It’s not much, but I thought you might like it.”

“It’s perfect,” she answered with tears ready to fall from her eyes, taking it from his hand and placing it around her neck. When he saw it on her, he knew he had made the right choice.

“I’m really happy you like it,” he said, taking her again in his arms, while letting her bury her face in his chest.

“I’ve kept the rose from that day, just so you know,” she whispered to him and he hugged her even tighter.

“I love you,” he told her and closed his eyes.

“I love you too,” he heard her say back.

Chapter Text

Sansa

It had been close to two weeks since Jon and Robb’s departure, when Sansa woke up to a sick feeling to her stomach and ran to vomit inside her chamber pot. Up until now, she had managed to keep her condition a secret from her mother and the rest of the family, with everyone being busy worrying about her brother and Jon, but with every day that passed, she knew it was only a matter of time before they figured it out and she started to show. At least Maester Luwin had respected her wishes to keep it a secret, and had let her decide on her own when it would be the best time to make the reveal. But now that her morning sickness had already begun, she knew she would have to tell them soon, because there would be no other way to explain her symptoms.

“My lady?” Sansa heard her handmaid, Mina, speak. She had not heard her enter, being preoccupied with emptying her stomach inside her chamber pot, but the girl, a couple years older than her and closer to Jon and Robb’s age, had clearly been standing by her bed for a while now, staring between her and the pot on the floor.

“Are you alright?” she asked concerned, and Sansa didn’t know if it was just her being paranoid or the guilty look she threw the girl’s way, but she could already see the wheels turning inside her head, when suddenly Mina met her eyes shocked.

“I’ll get Lady Catelyn,” was the only thing she said, before she fled the room, leaving Sansa on her knees, cursing herself for not having the courage to tell her mother earlier and on her own terms.

“Sansa,” she heard her mother call her name, a few moments later, just after she was done washing her mouth and hands at the small basin she had in her chambers.

When she turned to look at her, her mother had an unreadable expression on her face.

“It’s nothing, Mother. I’m fine,” Sansa answered, before Lady Catelyn had the chance to ask her anything, as she moved to take her dress from the chair by the fireplace to get changed for the day.

“When were you going to tell me?” her mother simply asked. Sansa didn’t show any sign of hearing her question as she took the dress in her hands.

“Maester Luwin was with me, when Mina came to find me. He’s already confirmed it, so please at least have the courtesy to not lie and deny it.”

Sansa sighed deeply, before she sat at the chair, clutching the dress in her hands, after laying it in her lap.

“I wanted to tell you,” she said and paused.

“I really did. I just didn’t know how you would take it. And with Robb leaving, I didn’t want to worry you or upset you more.”

“You were trying to spare my feelings? Isn’t it a little late for that? You have already sided with him. I’ve seen you two together. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you two look at each other and behave around each other. I’ve been in love myself to recognize it when I see it in other people.”

“Then you can also understand why I’ve been so hesitant to tell you. I know how you feel about him, Mother,” Sansa answered, meeting her mother’s eyes.

“Was it that first night? Or have you lain with him again?” Lady Catelyn asked, and Sansa found herself blushing uncontrollably.

“I… I got with child that night, but I have done other… things with him since then,” she answered truthfully, while remembering the morning of her nameday, when he had made her peak for the first time.

“So, I guess this means you have forgiven him for exploiting you and using you for his advantage. For humiliating you.”

“Jon has never done anything like that. This marriage has been just as difficult for him as it has been for me. I agreed to help him. None of this is his fault,” Sansa was quick to defend him.

“And now you are going to bear his child. At fourteen.”

“I’m a married woman. There is nothing wrong with that.”

“You are nothing but a child. And children are not supposed to bear other children. You know nothing of this world, Sansa. How cruel it can be. Tell me, what will happen to you after Robert Baratheon gets his hands on him? How can you even be certain that Jon Snow will return from this foolish mission he has gone to, dragging Robb along with him? What do you think will happen to you and your child, when people find out about this? Do you think that because it’s going to be named Stark, Robert Baratheon will spare its life? If it’s a son, his life will always be in danger, because just like Jon Snow, it will have a claim to the throne.”

“Jon is not interested in the throne and neither am I. We just want to live our lives together. I love him, Mother, and he loves me, and having a family with him is the best thing I could ever hope for.”

“What you and Jon want and what potential other people see in you are two completely different things. You are not a peasant, Sansa. There is power in both yours and Jon Snow’s blood. The mere threat of him and this child are enough for any king to want them dead,” her mother said and Sansa looked at her scared.

“You think I hate Jon Snow, and I admit that for a long while I have hated him, and there are moments when I wish I could go back to those days of ignorance, back when I thought he was merely my husband’s bastard son, and the only thing he was a threat to was my children’s place in this castle, because of the affection your father had for him. But now it’s even worse than that. There is a reason why I’m still so angry with him, even if you feel like I shouldn’t anymore. He scares me. I don’t hate him, but he scares me. His very existence is a threat to my children’s life. He is a threat to your life more than anyone else’s, because you are now linked to him. I understand your need to have a family, Sansa. But having Jon’s child endangers everything, and most of all you,” Lady Catelyn said, and Sansa found herself touching her belly protectively.

“This child is innocent. No one would dare harm it,” she told her mother stubbornly, as she felt tears coming to her eyes.

“Jon was innocent too. He was only a babe, and yet your father made sure he was kept hidden to protect him. He decided to dishonor himself and me in order to keep him a secret from his best friend. He couldn’t even trust his best friend. Do you know what that must be like? He couldn’t trust the man he grew up with as a brother more than anything else, the man he fought a war for, and helped win a throne for. And now look at them. Your father was right all along. Robert wants us all dead, because he can’t stand the thought of Jon’s existence.”

“This is different. This child is a Stark. It’s not a Targaryen.”

“I dare say that makes it even more dangerous, because it can be seen both as a threat and as hope. A lot of people blame the Targaryens for what they’ve done in this land. For all the wars and the destruction they’ve caused. Look at what the Northern lords did to you, because they thought they couldn’t trust Jon. But the Starks had always had the reputation of being honorable and good, and a lot of people have put their faith in them in the past. So, how would the realm see a child that has direct claim to the throne, but is also nothing like the vicious Targaryens with their dragons, and bears the Stark name? A family known to care for their people,” her mother said, and Sansa felt a tear roll down her cheek.

“I won’t let anyone harm my babe. I will protect it with my own life, if I have to,” she said and brought both her arms in front of her, creating a protective wall for her babe, suddenly feeling more scared than ever. Until this day, she had only thought of this child as a blessing, but now she knew that with that blessing came grave danger.

“Let us hope you won’t have to, then,” her mother muttered and then knelt in front of her, wiping the tears that had fallen from Sansa’s eyes.

“Do you think Jon and Robb will be alright? That they’ll come back to us, and bring Uncle Benjen back too?” Sansa asked her then, as her mother placed a hand on her knee and caressed her long auburn hair with the other, comforting her.

“We can only pray that they do. They all still have a lot to live for,” she answered and smiled sadly at her, adding a protective hand on her arm, while Sansa kept them both in front of her stomach.

“They do,” Sansa agreed returning the small smile. “Let us pray to both the Old Gods and the New for their safe return.”

“Yes. Let’s pray,” Lady Catelyn said back. It was the first time in a long while that Sansa felt this close to her mother, and she only hoped they never lost that connection ever again. Because the gods knew she had never needed her more than she did now.

˜*˜

Jon

“Open the gates,” Jon heard someone shout, meeting Robb’s eyes, as they stood in front of Castle Black’s gates on the backs of their horses. The ride to the castle had been a long and hard one, filled with scared thoughts about their uncle’s fate, as well as thoughts about Sansa and the rest of the family they were leaving behind, while admiring the size of the Wall the closer they got. But now that they were here, they could finally focus on their mission.

The moment the gates were open, Yoren, Ser Rodrik and Jory were the first to guide their horses inside, while he and Robb followed right behind them, along with the rest of their men. The place, although it was big, was old and looked somewhat like it was falling apart, and Jon couldn’t help but wonder what his life would have been like, if he had actually taken the black and had made this his new home and the men he could see around him his new brothers. He could feel their eyes follow them, as they stood scattered about the yard and on the balconies of some of the buildings. Eyes that belonged to old and young men—some of them boys even, not older than fourteen or fifteen—many of them bearded and others not. From their reaction alone, it was obvious they were not getting a lot of visitors and Jon could clearly see why. This place was a ruin in comparison to Winterfell.

“We’re coming from Winterfell. Lord Stark is sending a search party for his brother beyond the Wall. You’d better tell the Lord Commander. He’ll want to meet with them,” Yoren informed the three men who approached them, while they all dismounted their horses.

“And who should I say he’ll be meeting with?” one of the three men, a tall one with grey curly short hair, asked suspiciously. He seemed to be in charge.

“Ser Rodrik and Jory Cassel, and Lord Stark’s two elder sons,” Jory was the one to respond, introducing them. The man’s eyes travelled to him and Robb, distinguishing them from the rest of their men, who wore much simpler cloaks than the two of them. The two direwolves beside them, Ghost and Grey Wind, seemed to also give away their identity. It was a miracle that Jon had gotten Ghost to come with him and leave Lady. But it had felt almost as if the wolf had understood the danger Jon would be getting himself into, and with Sansa’s urging, had dutifully followed him to the Wall.

“May I ask who you might be?” Ser Rodrik asked next, gaining back the man’s attention.

“Ser Alliser Thorne, Master-at-Arms here at Castle Black. I’m responsible for training the new recruits,” the man answered, before Jon felt his eyes on him again.

“The men need rest before we can begin our mission. We brought our own food,” Ser Rodrik said and the man nodded.

“Show them to the hall,” he told the two other men beside him, and then turned back to them.

“The rest follow me,” he added, and Yoren, Ser Rodrik, Jory, Robb and himself followed the man to meet the Lord Commander, while he and Robb shared a look.

˜*˜

“This is the arm our rangers found,” Lord Commander Jeor Mormont said, as they all stood around the desk in his solar. Upon meeting him, Jon could not help but think of the man’s sister who had been placed as a witness for his and Sansa’s bedding.

“What’s so unique about a piece of a dead man’s arm? Why are you still keeping it here?” Robb asked then, as all their eyes were glued to the grayish flesh placed on a piece of cloth on top of the table.

“To study it of course,” came an old man’s voice. Jon had not paid any attention to him until then.

“Study it for what?” he asked.

“For the odd fact that although it is a piece of a dead man, dead flesh itself, it does not appear to rot or to smell,” the old man answered.

“How is that even possible?” Robb was the next one to speak.

“We do not know, but we hope Maester Aemon will be able to tell us more in the future,” Lord Commander Mormont replied, pointing towards the old man sitting by the hearth.

“Speaking of the future, how many of your men can we expect to accompany us beyond the Wall?” Ser Rodrik asked.

“We don’t have the men to waste in pointless missions. We’ve already sent a few of our men beyond the Wall and they came back with this,” Lord Mormont said, pointing towards the arm on the table.

“We asked Yoren to bring in recruits to help us defend ourselves better. Not take on missions that will get even more of us killed. Benjen was a good friend and a brother to us, but we can’t risk any more of our men, just for him.”

“So, we should expect no men for when we leave on the morrow?” Jory asked irritated.

“I’d suggest you wait a few days. There is a storm coming and it would make your lives really difficult if it caught you while you’re travelling north of the Wall. Benjen would not have wanted any harm to come to his nephews because of him.”

“You talk as if he’s already dead,” Jon accused him, angrily.

“For all we know he is,” Lord Mormont answered, looking at him for perhaps the first time.

“You must be Jon. Benjen has told me a lot about you. He had a lot of love for you,” he added. It didn’t make Jon glare at him any less.

“Jon? As in ‘Jon Snow’?” Ser Alliser Thorne spoke. Jon had forgotten he was still in the room.

“You’re Rhaegar Targaryen’s bastard,” the man concluded, making Jon even angrier than before.

“Mind your tone with my brother,” Robb seethed.

“Your brother? The way I heard it, he’s your bastard cousin fucking your sister, whom he grew up thinking as his own,” Thorne retorted and Ser Rodrik and Jory barely held Robb and himself back from attacking him.

“Ser Alliser, I will not tolerate this behavior. These men are our guests. I will not have you insult them,” Lord Mormont intervened.

“I did not insult anyone. I merely spoke the truth. If it wasn’t for this boy’s whore of a mother seducing him, Rhaegar Targaryen would be King now instead of Robert Baratheon, and I wouldn’t be stuck here, freezing my arse off on the Wall for the rest of my life,” Thorne said and this time the rest of the men could not hold Jon back from punching him in the face, before they actually managed to restrain him.

“Remove yourself from this room right now,” Jeor Mormont ordered, and Thorne holding his bloodied nose with his hand and one last glare towards Jon proceeded to leave, while Jon was still held back by the rest of them. He had only known him for a few moments and he already hated him.

“I’ll have rooms prepared for you and your men. Think about what I’ve told you, and consider waiting for a few days before you go. The weather north of the Wall is always unpredictable, so you should at least wait for when it’s safest to travel.”

“Thank you, Lord Commander, for your advice. We will think on it tonight and decide on the morrow,” Ser Rodrik said and then led all of them out of the room and back to find the rest of their men.

When we get outside, Thorne should better be hiding, Jon kept thinking furiously, because if his eye caught that man again, he was going to do a lot more than just punch him in the face and give him a bloody nose. Jon already hated everything here and missed Sansa and Winterfell terribly, and that made him realize he would have made the biggest mistake in his life, if he had chosen to join the Night’s Watch. In fact, he had never been happier than he was now for the revelation of his parentage that led him to the life he lived. The revelation that allowed him to marry Sansa. Whatever that man said, he was wrong. Sansa was the light of his life and he would never be embarrassed again for being her husband.

Oh, it would be so sweet to have her here with me, he thought longingly, and then followed the others.

Chapter Text

Sansa

Sansa knocked on the door of her father’s solar, bracing herself for their inevitable talk, when—to her surprise—the door was suddenly opened by her mother. Her lord father was inside, sitting behind his desk.

“Come, Sansa,” Lady Catelyn bid her inside with a face that gave nothing away, moving aside for her to pass, as Sansa instinctively placed her hands on her belly. With her head held high, trying her best to look courageous, she then walked inside the room, before she heard the door shut behind her and looked at her father.

Lord Eddard Stark had never looked more miserable and troubled before in his life. His eyes seemed tired with dark circles underneath them, while deep lines creased his forehead. It seemed as if he had aged twenty years in a matter of weeks, but with Sansa keeping her distance from him, she was only now able to notice the changes.

“Father? You called for me? Is something wrong? Is Jon—?”

“Both Jon and Robb are fine. I received a raven from Castle Black earlier. They arrived a few days ago, but the weather hasn’t allowed them to travel north yet. They’re still there or at least they were when they sent this raven. You don’t need to worry about them for now,” he said and paused.

“But this is not why I called you. Though, I assume you knew this already,” her father said, staring inside her eyes. Before long Sansa had to look away, hugging herself tighter, as she heard a sigh coming from him.

“Are you alright? Is the babe alright?” her father asked then.

“We’re both healthy, yes,” Sansa answered. It had been days since her mother had discovered her condition, but she had kept quiet, just like her handmaiden, whom Lady Catelyn had sworn to secrecy. However, Sansa had been aware that it was only a matter of time before her father knew and she had had no doubt that he did, when he had asked for her. Just like her, Ned had been avoiding her since the wedding.

“Your mother tells me you’re pleased that you’re with child. Is this true?” he asked and he sounded hopeful, although he looked worried.

“It is. The Gods have blessed my first union with Jon, so it was not all in vain,” she told him and she couldn’t hold back the bitterness in her voice. Although Sansa had forgiven him long ago and was grateful that the bedding had brought her closer to Jon and had given them their child, she still felt upset with him for not even apologizing to her for the way he had handled things the night of the wedding. Her mother did not try to intervene. It was no secret that she had been fighting with Ned. 

“Sansa… there are no words… I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am. I should never have allowed the bedding. I should never have let you suffer like that. I know you must hate me, but—”

“I don’t hate you. I could never hate you, Father. I’m just disappointed. And so is Jon.”

Ned looked both relieved and pained by her words. “I understand. I wronged both of you. I brought shame on both my children and I can never take it back. I’m not even going to ask for your forgiveness, because I know I don’t deserve it. I will have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life,” he said and the look on her father’s face broke Sansa’s heart.

“No, you won’t. I’ve felt hurt and shamed too… but I cannot hold it against you, when I know the reason you let it happen. When I know how desperate you were for this to work for the sake of our family, for Jon. I was there. I remember how they pressured you. I myself agreed to go through with it and so did Jon. You asked us both and we agreed. You didn’t force us. In the end it was our decision. I know that if I had said no, you would have stopped it, consequences be damned. I know you tried after… even though we had both agreed. Theon told me what happened after I was led to my chambers.”

“Theon?” her father asked surprised.

“He told me you tried to use Jon’s drunkenness as an excuse, but Jon refused.”

“Theon should have kept his mouth shut. It was not Jon’s fault. I should have never put him in that spot. He felt too embarrassed in a room full of men to agree with me. Please, don’t blame him.”

“I don’t. I never did. And I don’t blame you either. Not anymore. I did… at first. When the anger and the humiliation were still fresh on my mind, but I cannot blame you any longer. That would make me a hypocrite. I cannot hold against you the thing that brought me everything I ever wished for. A man to love and a family. Jon and I love each other, Father, and the thought of our child does not make me simply pleased. I’ve never felt happier in my life. Jon is all I could ever wish for to have in a husband and the thought of holding our babe in my arms fills my heart with unbelievable happiness,” Sansa said and smiled at her father, only now realizing that there were tears running down her face. In a moment Ned Stark was out of his seat and he was gathering her in his arms.

“My precious girl,” he mumbled in her hair, as he held her tightly against him. His protective arms around her body were making her feel like a little girl again, desperately clutching at him in fear after a nightmare, and all of a sudden she was feeling the need to confess everything that was keeping her up at night.

“I’m scared, Father. For Jon and for Robb. What if they don’t come back? What if Jon never meets his child? What if Uncle Ben is already dead?” she cried, and her tears wetted his jerkin.

“Don’t be afraid, my love. They will all come back. I promise. Jon will be here for when your child is born. He won’t miss it,” he reassured her, but there was no way for him to know that. It was an empty promise. One that he could not keep.

“I should have told him. I’m so stupid. Why didn’t I tell him? Now he’s gone on a dangerous mission and he doesn’t even know. He could die and never know about his child,” Sansa cried harder.

“Shhh… don’t think like that. Ser Rodrik and Jory won’t let anything happen to him, and Jon and Robb will be watching each other’s back and keep each other safe,” her father told her and Sansa moved back to look at him, a thought just occurring to her.

“You said they’re still at Castle Black. Perhaps I could send him a raven. Tell him about our child,” she said suddenly excited.

“Sansa, no. We’ve talked about this. It’s too dangerous for people outside our castle to know about your child. You’d only be putting it at risk. Anyone could intercept that message. People who could warn Robert,” her mother argued. Sansa had forgotten that she was still in the room.

“Your mother is right, Sansa. It’s not safe for many people to know about this. You will have to wait for Jon to come back and surprise him. Since you decided not to tell him before he left, you don’t have a choice now but to wait,” he reasoned with her, and although she knew he was right, it didn’t make her feel any less miserable.

“I understand,” she whispered in defeat, before Ned hugged her again protectively. She had missed his arms around her. She had missed feeling this safe. Jon had been the only one to make her feel safe lately, but now Jon was gone.

Please Gods, bring him back to me. Let him meet our child. Don’t let him die without knowing it, Sansa prayed, resting her head on her father’s chest, as her mother came to hug her as well from behind.

Standing there between them reminded her of the times when she had been little, and she had climbed between them in their bed during the stormy nights, terrified by the sound of thunder. But in her mind, it wasn’t her climbing onto the bed anymore. It was a little boy with Jon’s hair and kind brown eyes asking for their protection, while she and Jon lay on their sides, looking at him adoringly as he too lay between them, the image making hope blossom in her heart. At that moment, she knew that she would get to live it. She had to. Jon had to come back to her and he would, and the thought of them together again with their child brought a smile on her face.

˜*˜

Jon

Jon was watching Alliser Thorne training the new recruits in Castle Black’s yard, casually leaning against the wooden railing of the balcony, when he felt Robb’s presence beside him.

“Are you alright?” his brother asked him, mirroring his posture.

“I’m fine. Just irritated. It’s been days. Why can’t we leave already? I just want to go find Uncle Benjen,” he grumbled.

“Jory and Ser Rodrik agreed with Mormont that it’s too dangerous for us to go now. We need to let the storm pass before we can move,” Robb reasoned with him.

“And since when do we take orders from Jory?”

“Since Father put him and Ser Rodrik in charge. You remember that, don’t you? That Father told us that we were to obey their orders? They’re in charge of this expedition and there’s nothing we can do about it. Besides, I agree with them. We don’t know what we’re going to find out there. We should at least make sure the weather is on our side.”

“Whatever,” Jon said and kept watching the recruits training below, when Thorne locked eyes with him. Robb didn’t seem to miss the tension between the two. Although they had kept their distance ever since that first day’s incident, they still occasionally exchanged hateful glances with each other.

“What is this really about? Is this about him?” he asked him, motioning with a tilt of his head towards the Master-at-Arms.

“No. He’s a prick, but I can handle him. It’s not like it’s the first time someone has mocked me for being a bastard.”

“You’re not a bastard, so whatever he thinks does not matter. What he said about Sansa and your mother—”

“Please don’t—”

“All I’m trying to say is that it shouldn’t bother you. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Robb said, before Jon sighed deeply, tightening his hold on the railing.

“Doesn’t he, though? My mother did seduce a married man and then had a child with him. Thorne was in a way right about what he said, even though he was harsh.”

“She didn’t seduce him. They just fell in love and then they married. They didn’t mean to cause what followed and it wasn’t just Aunt Lyanna who was at fault. Don’t let him get into your head and poison your thoughts of your mother.”

“And what about what he said about Sansa? Don’t you agree with him?” Jon asked, turning his face towards Robb to watch him closely.

“Of course not!” his brother answered and sounded offended.

“Really? Because not too long ago you were thinking the same way and you wanted to murder me,” Jon challenged him, thinking of all the times Robb had glared at him during sparring and all the unnecessary bruises he had given him.

“That’s not true and you know it. It was just difficult for me to adjust to the idea. Jon, I know the kind of man you are, and I know that you’ll take care of her. In the end, I’m glad you two are together and that you have found love in each other,” Robb told him, and when he did, Jon let the mask of pretense finally slip from his face, for a moment becoming vulnerable enough to confess his feelings.

“I miss her. I know it’s only been a few weeks, but I miss her terribly,” he admitted, closing his eyes in shame. He was trying to be strong and not let Robb know the agonizing pain he was feeling from being parted from Sansa, but he just couldn’t pretend anymore. The old him would have just brooded in silence and would not have told anyone, but the new him, this side of him that had fallen head over heels for Sansa, could not hold back from expressing his feelings anymore. He needed to mope and to whine and Robb would just have to endure it.

“I’m sure she misses you too, but if you want to go back to her in one piece, you need to be careful and not make hasty decisions. Let Jory and Ser Rodrik decide what’s right. They have more experience and clearer heads than we do.”

“Aye, you’re right. I just can’t help but feel like we’re wasting our time here, and every day that passes is another one Uncle Benjen is missing and another one I spend away from Sansa,” Jon said, but before Robb could react and say anything in return, Alliser Thorne’s voice caught their attention from the yard below them, and they both turned their heads in time to see Sam, one of the new recruits approach the rest. Although they were always calling him mocking names and the two of them had not yet interacted, Jon had caught the boy’s name.

He was not much older than him and Robb and as he walked clumsily on uncoordinated feet, his face pale with fear, Jon noticed how different he looked from the others. Sure, there was the obvious difference—he was fat, and the armor he was given barely fit him—but there was also something else about him. Sam was highborn and if Jon had to guess, he’d say he had never had to defend himself before in his life, and unfortunately, after the boy was given a sword with a blunt edge and a shield, and Thorne ordered one of the others to attack him, Jon’s suspicions were confirmed. Where the others before had seemed to lack any serious skills in sword fighting, this boy was not only tremendously unskilled, but he was also a coward, and soon he found himself on the ground, face down, while he cried out for mercy, causing the others to start laughing around him and make fun of him. In response, the feeling of secondhand embarrassment and pity made Jon move, and before he knew what he was doing, he was heading for the stairs.

“Jon!” he barely heard Robb calling after him, and although he knew it wasn’t his place to interfere, he was determined to put a stop to this poor boy’s torture.

“He yielded. Stop this right now,” Jon shouted, glaring at Thorne, who never stopped yelling orders to attack Sam—whom the Master-at-Arms was calling Lady Piggy—while he was still on the ground, begging for mercy.

The moment Jon spoke all voices and laughter died down around him, and Thorne turned to him with eyes full of contempt.

“This is Castle Black. You’re not in Winterfell anymore, Lord Snow. You don’t get to order us around here. You’re only a guest and soon you’ll be leaving. You’re not one of us, so I suggest you mind your own business. I am Master-at-Arms and I will train the recruits the way I see fit. I will not have a bastard boy like yourself instruct me on how to train my men,” Thorne mocked him, a self-satisfied grin on his face. Before he could reply, Jon felt Robb’s hand on his shoulder, trying to keep him calm, but he ignored him.

“It is Lord Stark to you. I’m not a Snow, and you will have it from me. We might not be in Winterfell, but Castle Black is still in the North. So, unless you want me to make a formal complaint to your Lord Commander, you will stop this immediately,” Jon said boldly, only to receive another smirk from Thorne.

“The Night’s Watch doesn’t fall under anyone’s jurisdiction. As for the Starks, they might rule the North, but last time I heard, Robert Baratheon was king of the Seven Kingdoms. The Starks are only wardens of the North, and interestingly enough King Robert is said to now call the Starks traitors.”

“And since when do you care about Robert Baratheon? You’ve made it very clear that you hate him.”

“That doesn’t make him any less the King, and I’ve heard another interesting story,” Thorne said and paused.

“You want to hear it? No?” he asked him mockingly. Jon glared at him, and he could feel Robb doing the same next to him.

“Oh, I’ll tell you anyway,” he continued.

“We all heard why he thinks the Starks to be traitors. It’s because of you. You might call yourself a Stark all you want, but the truth is you’re a Targaryen bastard, and sooner or later Robert Baratheon will have your head on a spike,” Thorne said, his words falling from his lips like venom, while putting emphasis on the word bastard. Jon felt Robb’s hand again on his shoulder, holding him back.

“He’s not worth it,” his brother whispered to him, but Jon didn’t want to listen. He was full of rage and was about to attack him, when a man shouted from one of the balconies, causing everyone to turn and look. It was the Maester they all had met the first day they had come to Castle Black, and he was now telling Thorne Mormont was asking for him, while his blind eyes stared at nothing. His name was Aemon, and besides being the Maester of Castle Black, he was also the first Targaryen Jon had ever laid eyes on. Until Ser Rodrik had told him, he hadn’t realized the implication of the name Aemon when he had heard it, but as he looked at him now all he could think was that this old man was all that was left from his real father’s side of the family, besides a girl, not older than him, half a world away in Essos. His father’s sister, as Ned had informed him. He had had an uncle too, but the news of his death had recently reached the shores of Westeros.

“We’ll talk later, Lord Snow,” Thorne told him mockingly before he left, giving him one last hateful glance.

“Thank you,” he heard someone say then, just as Thorne disappeared inside one of the buildings. Jon had been too preoccupied glaring at Ser Alliser’s back to notice who had spoken. When he turned around, however, Sam was looking at him expectantly.

“Thank you for defending me. You didn’t have to do that. I’m Sam, by the way,” the boy said and offered him his hand for a handshake.

“I know who you are. I’m Jon, and you don’t have to thank me. I did nothing important,” Jon replied, shaking his hand.

“This is my brother Robb,” Jon said next and Robb greeted him also. The rest of the recruits had gone soon after Thorne, but the two other boys who had stayed behind with the three of them gave their names as well.

Grenn and Pypar were two of the few who had not made fun of Sam earlier and Grenn had been the one who had taken mercy on him and had stopped his attack despite Ser Alliser’s commands. So, after the introductions were over, Grenn turned to Sam. “Why didn’t you defend yourself? I wasn’t even hitting you and you froze on the ground doing nothing. I didn’t mean to scare you. We were just training. The swords aren’t even sharp.”

“I wanted to… I really did… but I couldn’t. I’m afraid I’m a coward. My father always said so and he was right.”

“What are you doing in the Night’s Watch then?” Robb was the one to ask him next. Sam’s presence here was something puzzling to all of them.

“I guess there was no other place left for me to go to,” Sam answered and Jon knew he was holding something back. There was more to his story than what he was telling them, but he wasn’t going to pressure him in front of everyone. He could see in his eyes that he didn’t want them to know.

“But you’re highborn, aren’t you? What is your surname?” Robb insisted, before Jon had the chance to stop him. Robb never knew when to stop talking.

“My name is Samwell Tarly. My House serve as bannermen to House Tyrell of Highgarden,” Sam answered.

“Is it true? What they say? Are the Tyrells fighting beside the Baratheons in the war against the Lannisters?” Robb asked yet again.

“Robb—” Jon protested this time. Sam looked at him curiously and then at Robb, before he answered.

“You want to know if they’ll march against your house as well, after the Lannisters are defeated. You’re a Stark and you are the Targaryen heir everyone’s been talking about,” Sam said. It wasn’t a question. He had heard like the rest of them Thorne’s mocking words earlier. He knew it was him.

“I’m not anyone’s heir. I’m Jon and that’s all you need to know.”

“My father fought on Prince Rhaegar’s side during the rebellion. I can’t imagine what he’d say if he saw me talking to you now. He always admired the dragons,” Sam told him with an odd expression on his face that Jon didn’t know how to interpret.

“So did the Tyrells and now they’re both fighting for Robert Baratheon. A man who’s trying to murder my brother, the son of the Prince they had originally sworn their allegiance to. I can’t say I admire your father’s loyalty very much,” Robb retorted.

“Well, my father is loyal—to the Tyrells. They’re the ones who joined the fight on the King’s side. They couldn’t exactly take the Lannister’s side. To many it seemed like the lesser of two evils. But perhaps my father isn’t the best example to bring, when you think of loyalty and honor. To him honor is everything, even at the expense of others,” Sam said and he sounded bitter. Jon was curious to know what that was about. Was his father the reason he had come here? Even though it was obvious he had no place in the Night’s Watch? Earlier he had said his father had always called him a coward. He guessed from Sam’s father’s perspective it was difficult to find any honor in a coward. He could never imagine Ned telling him something like that, however, even though he was the most honorable man he knew. Despite his flaws, apart from Lady Catelyn, his family always loved him unconditionally.

“They were different times, different wars. House Stark helped King Robert win his crown more than anyone else from what I’ve studied, and now the Starks and the Baratheons are at each other’s throats,” Sam commented, bringing Jon back to the present. Jon stopped Robb before he could speak.

Besides, what could his brother say? That it had all been a mistake? A misunderstanding? Both sides had wronged each other, it was true, but it all came down to his parents’ crime. They had loved each other and because of their love thousands had lost their lives. His grandfather and uncle had died by the hands of his other grandfather, all because of them. His father’s family and what would have been his half-siblings had gotten butchered during the sacking of King’s Landing, again because of them. His father’s siblings had lived all their lives running and hiding in permanent exile in Essos, until one of them had died, still because of them. All of the Seven Kingdoms had immersed in war and decay, and it had all been because of their love.

Robb could believe whatever he wanted to believe, but it wasn’t Thorne the one making him think badly of his mother and real father. It was all their doing. Their actions and arrogance shamed him, and there was nothing honorable about their union, even though they were married, at least in his eyes. Honor and duty were difficult. It wasn’t always pleasant to do the honorable thing and it usually came at a price. A price he and Sansa had paid heavily, trying to do the right thing for their family. Love had come afterwards. With his parents it had been the opposite and their love had had an impact on everyone, and most of all on his family, which was still paying the price.

“But I guess it doesn’t really matter. I, for one, have nothing to do with these fights anymore. Not that I ever did,” Sam smiled and paused, becoming serious again.

“I’ve come to take the black and find a new family in my new brothers,” he said, and Jon saw Grenn and Pyp—as he liked to be called—nodding in agreement. He didn’t know their background, although he was certain it was very different from Sam’s, but it was obvious they too wanted to find a place to belong and a family. Not too long ago, Jon himself was flirting with the idea of coming here, but now everything was different. Sansa had more than filled that need. She was his entire world now, but he could still relate, since he had felt like an outsider for years.

“Well, then, if you’re all serious about this, you’d better learn how to fight, because that was just embarrassing,” Jon said seriously, but then burst out laughing, making the rest of them laugh as well.

“Robb and I could teach you, while we’re here. We’ve been taught by the best. Thorne has nothing on him,” he told them and Robb agreed next to him. At least they’d have something to pass the time while they were waiting here.

“I’m not going to get any better, you know,” Sam protested.

“Well, at least you can’t get any worse,” Robb said then and everyone started laughing again. Jon hadn’t laughed in days, not since they had left Winterfell, and at the realization the memory of Sansa’s sweet laughter entered his mind. He could only hope that he would see her laugh again soon and the thought of it warmed his heart.

Chapter Text

Jon

It was a few days later and a day before the search party was about to head north—after the snowstorm had finally subsided—when the recruits took their Night’s Watch vows and became the new defenders of the Wall. And even though Jon couldn’t wait to head out and look for his uncle, he had a bittersweet feeling for leaving his new friends behind.

The time they had spent at Castle Black had been enough for Robb and himself to become fast friends with a few of the Night’s Watch members, the ones that weren’t murderers or rapists, and mostly with the three they had been introduced to that day. Out of all of them, the one Jon had come closer to had been Samwell Tarly, while Robb had found himself spending a lot of time and training with Grenn. Sam, as Jon had imagined, had an interesting story and a very painful one at that for coming to the Wall and Jon had been the only one his friend had finally felt comfortable enough to share it with.

For all his kindness, Robb couldn’t understand certain things. He had always been looked upon with admiration and pride as a Stark and the future Lord of Winterfell, and he had never experienced what it felt like to be unwanted, which had been a constant feeling for Jon throughout his childhood because of Lady Catelyn. Thus, it had been easy for Jon to sympathize with Sam, and, in turn, Sam had become someone Jon could share his fears and troubles with, and things he simply couldn’t confide in Robb, who was not only his family and Sansa’s brother, but was also a Stark. Sometimes it was simply easier to talk to Sam about certain things, even if they had only just met, because he knew the boy would not judge him. So he talked to him about things he would never tell Robb, like what it felt like to find out about his Targaryen side and how he wished he knew the family he had never met.

During the cold nights of the snowstorm, when they had been all gathered around the hearths in the hall to keep warm, Jon’s eyes had often travelled to Maester Aemon. He had wanted to tell him they were related and ask him what it was like being a Targaryen, but he had never found the courage to do so. And then there had been those rare nights, when he had been lying awake in bed thinking not of his wife, as was the usual, but of Daenerys Targaryen, his only other living relative from his father’s side. Would he ever get the chance to meet her? He did not know, but deep inside he knew he would like to, because he may not have had the best opinion of his real father, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to know more about him or of his family, and Daenerys was the last link that remained to him. When he had confessed that to Sam, the boy had nodded in understanding and had remained silent.

As a result of this closeness they shared, when the time had come, Sam had decided to take his vows in front of a weirwood tree, choosing to give a chance to his new friend’s gods, after being let down so many times by his own, bringing all of them north of the Wall for the very first time.

The Lord Commander and a few other members stood close to Sam, as he knelt in front of the tree, its face staring right at him, while Ser Rodrik, Jory, Robb, and himself, with Ghost and Grey Wind by their feet, stood further back, not wanting to be too privy to the sacred ceremony, but still wanting to be there for Sam. As he looked at the scene in front of him, Jon remembered of a different time—not that long ago—when he had stood under another weirwood tree with Sansa by his side and had taken a different kind of vows. The kind he had always dreamed of but never thought were in his future, and especially with her.

Oh, how he wished he could be with Sansa now; touch her soft skin, see her beautiful blue eyes and warm smile. But he was determined not to go back without finding his uncle first. Both for himself and for her. Sansa had been so frightened when Yoren had brought them the news, and the night before his departure, Jon had held her trembling body close to his and he had promised her that he would make sure all of them came back alive and well. And he intended to keep that promise. He was not about to lose her now that he had finally found her, even if she had been right in front of him all his life.

After Sam finished his vows and, with the help of his new brothers, stood up, a low growl coming from both Ghost and Grey Wind, made both Jon and Robb share a wary look, before the two direwolves got in front of them, as if to protect them from what was to them an invisible threat. But the threat did not remain invisible for long.

Before they knew what was happening, their direwolves had their jaws firmly set around the necks of two men that came out of nowhere, and Jon and Robb, along with the others, found themselves fighting off three more. But then, even after they were all killed—with Jon having felt his longsword running through one of the men’s hearts—they stood up again, this time trying to get to the Lord Commander. Jon wasted no time and, taking a lit torch from one of the Night’s Watch brothers, threw it at them, and watched as they were all—because of their proximity to one another—quickly engulfed in flames, falling to the ground, this time for good.

“What in the seven hells were they?” one of the men Jon could not name asked, as Sam stood next to him frozen with fear.

“They’re from the Night’s Watch,” said another, pointing to their black clothes.

“They left with Benjen, when he went north of the Wall,” Commander Mormont added, recognizing them, and Jon and Robb, looked at each other, the fear for their uncle’s life growing. But then, something caught Jon’s eye.

“I believe they’re also the answer to your ‘arm enigma.’ Whatever they are or were, the part of the arm in the Lord Commander’s solar came from one of them,” Jon said and pointed to the burning bodies, one of which was missing part of his arm, as everyone followed with their gaze.

Suddenly the words of the man his father had beheaded a few days before his parentage had been revealed didn’t sound so mad anymore. Maybe the White Walkers weren’t only myths and scary tales Old Nan liked to tell after all. Maybe the world they lived in was a much more dangerous place from what they all thought and Uncle Benjen had more things to worry about than just wildlings. That is, if he was still alive.

˜*˜

Sansa

Sansa was sitting by the hearth, finishing another garment for the babe, when Arya, without knocking, entered her room. Even though her lady mother had assured her they had enough—all kinds of clothing still left from her and her siblings, appropriate for both boys and girls—Sansa was stubborn and wanted her and Jon’s babe to wear mostly things she had made herself.

“Aren’t your fingers tired from all the knitting? It seems like you’ve done nothing more ever since Jon and Robb left,” Arya said grumpily, as she sat in the armchair on the other side of the hearth, facing her.

“And what should I do in your opinion? Run outside in the cold and get dirty in the mud playing with sticks, like you? I’m a married woman, Arya, and a lady. I don’t have the luxury you do,” Sansa answered without lifting her head from her work.

“I’m not playing with sticks. I was practicing with the sword Jon gave me,” Arya was quick to say, glaring at her sister, when Sansa met her gaze.

“Jon gave you a sword?” Sansa asked amused by the absurdity of just the idea of Arya fighting with a sword.

“Yes, he did, and we’ve trained together lots of times before he had to leave, for your information. Didn’t your dear husband tell you? You think you’re the only one he gives gifts to?” Arya retorted as her eyes fell on the rose hanging from Sansa’s neck. Sansa, following her gaze, enclosed the rose in her palm.

“No, he didn’t. And I didn’t ask. Just because we are husband and wife, does not mean I care any more than I did in the past about sword-fighting and sparring. I know he does it a lot, but other than that I have no further interest in it,” Sansa said back and went back to her knitting.

“What are you making, anyway? It seems too small for a dress. Don’t you have enough stockings already?” Arya asked annoyed. Sansa knew her little sister had grown bored ever since Jon and Robb left, because it was not as exciting for her playing just with Bran and Rickon, and the proof was her being here. She would never had sought out Sansa under different circumstances.

“I’m not making either of those things and it is not for me.”

“What? Are you making something for Jon again? Trying to impress him? Jon does not care about such trivial things. If you’re trying to win his affections, you’re going about it the wrong way.”

“Well, it is a good thing then that I’m not trying to win his affections,” Sansa retorted as she looked pointedly at her sister. “I guess Jon didn’t have a chance to talk to you before he left,” she added, looking back down at her lap.

“Of course he did. He told me goodbye and he hugged me. He promised that he’d come back with Robb and Uncle Ben.”

“I didn’t mean about that… He was supposed to talk to you about us.”

“You and me?”

“No, me and him.”

“About what? How he was tricked into consummating the marriage?” Arya asked, starting to irritate Sansa.

“Is that what you think happened, Arya? You think I tricked him into sleeping with me?” she asked, barely controlling the tremble in her voice.

“I didn’t say that… I know neither of you wanted it, but it was surely harder for Jon.”

“And why is that exactly?”

“Well, I know you always wanted to be a lady and have a husband and kids, so that actually worked in your favor in a way. Jon always wanted to join the Night’s Watch and never wanted to have a wife, and especially a wife like you. We always used to make fun of you, you know, about the silly things you did and liked. Besides, at your wedding feast, all you did was dance and laugh, while Jon was miserable and was getting drunk all night. Which is probably why he went through with it. I can’t imagine him wanting to share a bed with you in that way when he’s sober. You are his sister, in case you’ve forgotten,” Arya finished, her words hurting like slaps on Sansa’s face, even if Sansa knew that none of it was true. Arya was just clinging to the tale she had created to save herself from dealing with reality.

“I’m not his sister, though. And Jon knows this and has accepted it. And as you like to remind me all the time, we never had a sibling relationship. We barely ever spoke to each other before any of this happened. You were always his favorite sister and that hasn’t changed.”

“I know that—”

“And I may not be his sister or his favorite, but I am still his wife and you need to start respecting that. Jon and Robb’s absence hasn’t been hard only on you, Arya. We all miss them and are worried about them. Uncle Ben too. So, there is no need for you to be getting possessive over Jon’s affections. This isn’t a competition. You don’t need to be jealous.”

“I’m not getting possessive and I’m not jealous. I’m just telling you the truth. Don’t think Jon has changed his mind about you just because he gave you a rose necklace and was kind to you for your nameday,” Arya said, staring at the necklace again, but before Sansa had a chance to react, her mother entered the room and looked at both of them.

“Is something the matter?” she asked and Sansa tried to hide how upset she was, while Arya avoided her gaze. Sansa did not want her mother to see them fighting. Especially since the reason they were fighting was Jon. Lady Catelyn, although she was trying to hide it and be supportive, was still not over the fact that Sansa was pregnant with his child and she did not want to add to that. Also, as it seemed, Jon had not spoken with Arya before he left, so Arya was still in the dark when it came to their relationship, and so, she did not want a fight in front of their mother to end in Lady Catelyn telling Arya about the babe. Sansa was not ready yet for that reaction. If Arya was jealous of her now, just because of a necklace, what would she do, if she knew about their child?

“No, Mother. We were just chatting. Is everything alright?” Sansa asked, feigning innocence.

“Your father has received a letter.”

“Is it from Jon?” — “Is it from Jon?” both sisters said in unison.

“No,” their mother answered, looking at both of them, one after the other, before her gaze landed on Sansa once more. “Sansa, your father would like to speak to you.”

“Don’t I get to know what’s going on?” Arya asked and pouted.

“No. These are grown up conversations. They’re not for you. Go have a bath. Why are you so dirty? Have you been playing in the mud again?”

“I was practicing,” Arya answered, exasperated. “And why does Sansa get to hear this? She’s not that much older than me.”

“ARYA,” Lady Catelyn said with finality in her voice. “Go on. We’ll see you at supper,” she added, giving an end to the conversation.

“Fine,” Arya said defeated, before she finally left the room. When she was gone, the lady of Winterfell looked back at her oldest daughter.

“Have you been fighting? Has she been giving you a hard time?”

“She just misses Robb and Jon, like all of us. I think she’s scared,” Sansa answered, meaning every word. Whenever Arya was frightened she got aggressive and said things she did not mean. She wanted to act like she was brave, but Sansa could see right through it, because she felt just as scared.

“Foolish boys. Running off like that, leaving us here to worry,” Lady Catelyn said, closing her eyes in frustration, before taking a long breath to calm herself. “Are you and the babe alright?”

“Yes. We’re fine, Mother. What letter did Father receive? Is it Robert Baratheon? Did he defeat the Lannisters and is coming after us now?”

“No. It is not him. Daenerys Targaryen, Jon’s aunt, is coming to Winterfell, with an army of Unsullied and three dragons, to meet her nephew.”

“What? Dragons?” Sansa gasped, but her mother ignored her.

“She will reach White Harbor in a few weeks. She was not asking in her letter. She was telling us. We don’t know who else has received a raven. For all we know Robert knows of her arrival too. Your Father will soon leave for White Harbor himself to greet her and accompany her back to Winterfell, before Lord Manderly does something stupid. We need all the allies we can get, especially if these allies bring dragons with them.”

“So we’ll ally with a Targaryen?” Sansa asked in disbelief.

“Does it come as a shock to you? Haven’t we already? You and your father and everyone else may have started calling Jon Snow a Stark the moment you two were married, but the truth is entirely different. He’s always been a Targaryen, and you need not forget that for when you bring your child into this world, because it will be a Targaryen too,” her mother said, and with one last look, she left the room and Sansa, as the redhead clutched at her necklace and placed her other hand protectively on her belly.

˜*˜

Jon

“You asked to see me, Lord Commander?” Jon asked, as he entered hesitantly Mormont’s solar. It had been only a few hours since the attack under the weirwood.

“Yes. I wanted to thank you, for saving my life. If you hadn’t acted when you did, I’d be a dead man now. Benjen was right to be so proud of you. I can see what he saw in you,” Jeor Mormont said, before he moved back to his desk to grab a longsword, still sheathed inside its leather scabbard. “This is for you,” he added, turning back to Jon, presenting him with the sword. “Its name is Longclaw. I changed the pommel. Figured a wolf was more appropriate than a bear.”

Jon took it from his hands and unsheathed it, only to realize it was made of Valyrian steel, while a white wolf with red eyes, like Ghost, adorned the pommel. “I can’t accept this. It is too much.”

“You can and you will. It was meant for my son, Jorah, but he brought dishonor on my House, before he fled for Essos. At least he had the decency to leave this behind. You saved my life, and your blood, both that of the Starks and the Targaryens, tells me that you are more than worthy of this gift. Besides, you’ll need it. You never know what else we’ll face beyond the Wall,” Mormont said, as he put his hand on Jon’s shoulder, tightening his hold for a moment before letting go.

“We?” Jon asked confused.

“We’ll join you and your search party. We can’t keep burying our heads in the snow after what we saw. We leave on the morrow, at first light. We need to know what’s out there and call for help, if needed.”

“Thank you, Lord Commander,” Jon said and Jeor Mormont nodded. Their adventure was just about to begin.

Chapter Text

Sansa

Sansa watched as Daenerys Targaryen stepped inside the Great Hall of Winterfell for the first time in her life, taking everything in. Upon her entrance, gasps were soon heard all around her, and the redhead quickly understood why. She was by far the most impressive girl Sansa had ever laid eyes on, with a style so different from what they were used to in the North and long silver hair that shined under the candlelight. Immediately she realized that the tales of Daenerys’ beauty that she had heard over the years—even though the Targaryen girl had still been very young while she had been hiding in Essos—had not been an exaggeration.

Her self-confidence was obvious from the way she walked, with her head held high, as she was looking around, even though she was not older than Robb or Jon. She had two soldiers on either side of her—wearing armor Sansa had never seen that looked not warm enough for so far up north—acting as her guards, while a girl, with darker skin, was walking right behind her. After them, Eddard Stark followed, walking right beside someone Sansa had also never seen. He must have come with Daenerys, but he looked like a Northerner himself and nothing like the others. Thankfully, Lord Manderly was not among the group of newcomers, but other lords had arrived earlier to see the Dragon Queen—as they called her—for themselves, and judge the motives behind her presence in Winterfell.

It had been a few anxious weeks waiting for their arrival, while also thinking about Robb and Jon every single day, praying for their safe return. Ned had sent them a raven ahead of time, informing them of the situation and how everything was going well, so they were not too worried about him, but still concerned, as things had not been that easy from the beginning.

Lord Manderly, as was expected and feared from her father—who had travelled to White Harbor for this very reason—had not been very welcoming of Daenerys and her retinue, but, in the end, the Lord of Winterfell had managed to calm everyone down and prevent a fight. He was lucky that Daenerys had been willing enough to listen and had not stooped to Lord Manderly’s level, and also that her dragons were not fully grown yet. Gods knew if Lord Manderly would still be alive, if they were—although, Sansa could not say she cared much, after what she had gone through because of him.

Immediately at that thought she realized how harsh she was. Dragonfire could not be a very pleasant way to go, and she still mourned and remembered of her uncle and grandfather and the horrible deaths they had met at the Targaryens’ hands, even if she never knew them, just of them. Nevertheless, she could not wish such a horrible death even to her worst enemy. The redhead had not seen the dragons yet, but she could hear them, flying over the walls and towers of Winterfell, and she was certain that even not at full growth, they still made a terrifying sight. And she was exactly that. Terrified. At least if Jon were there, she would feel safer and more courageous. But he was not, and she had to face Daenerys by herself, and it was important to Sansa to make a good impression, because, even if her dragons terrified her, she was still Jon’s aunt, and that sort of made her family. So, naturally she tried her best. As did the rest of her family. Thus, Lady Catelyn, Sansa, and her siblings were all lined up next to each other in front of the hearth, and when Daenerys finally reached them, they all curtsied or bowed down to greet her, before they quickly stood back up. Then, Daenerys met each of their eyes but did not speak herself, until the girl from behind her came to her side and formally introduced her.

“You are standing in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, first of her name, the Unburnt, and Mother of Dragons. The rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, and protector of the realm,” the girl finished.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, your Grace. I’m Catelyn Stark, Lord Stark’s wife. As lady of Winterfell, I welcome you to our home,” Lady Catelyn said, as was expected of her, and curtsied once more. Sansa, however, knowing her mother, knew that Daenerys was the last person Lady Catelyn wanted in their home. She was afraid of what her visit here would mean for their House and their safety.

“It is good to be here. It is strange being in Westeros again, although I have no memories from the first time I was here. I was only a baby, you see. I always wondered, however, what it would be like. Especially in the North. I’ve never been to any place like it before, but the situation demanded it of me,” she said and then turned her eyes to Sansa.

“You must be Sansa, my nephew’s wife,” she concluded.

“I am, your Grace. It is very nice to meet someone from Jon’s other side of the family,” she answered and smiled, trying to hide her fear, as she unconsciously placed her hands in front of her middle. It was wise to remember that even if she appeared as just a pretty girl, Daenerys was much more powerful than that, and she had three dragons to prove it. Daenerys’ eyes followed the movement of her hands, but she did not comment on it.

“Right. His name is Jon. A peculiar name for a Targaryen,” she observed instead, still looking at her.

“Jon is a Stark,” Sansa retorted too quickly, not minding her tongue. But, thankfully, her father came to the rescue, rushing to his daughter’s side.

“Like I told you, during our journey north, your Grace, it was for his own protection that I gave him that name. I could not exactly hide him with a name like Jaehaerys, like my sister wanted to call him,” Ned Stark explained, and for a moment Daenerys seemed lost in thought, as she too, absentmindedly, placed a hand on her flat stomach.

“I almost forgot about that. You were with your sister at the end, before she died,” she said, while she seemed to be remembering one of their conversations, looking at the empty space. “You protected her child from being slaughtered like the others, even though it was the child of your enemy,” she added and then she met Ned’s eyes.

“He was my nephew. Whoever his father was. My sister’s son.”

“Yes, indeed. If only my brother Viserys cared as much as you did, while he lived. You’re lucky he never learned about our nephew. You’re lucky it’s me standing in front of you and not him. He would have wanted him dead. He never liked the competition. The only value he ever saw in family was using it as a means to an end. Like when he sold me to Khal Drogo, making me his Khaleesi for a while, until he too wasted away. But not before I was with child. Viserys was still around when that happened, and you know what he did? He threatened to rip it from my womb and held a blade to my stomach, because he thought Khal Drogo owed him an army and a crown. As you understand, he was not exactly the loving type,” she said, pausing, and Sansa found herself hugging her belly tighter than before, the very thought of anyone harming her child bringing bile up in her mouth. Her condition was not obvious because of the dresses she carefully chose to wear every day, but if one saw her without them, there was no hiding the truth of it at more than four moons along and that made her even more paranoid. Soon she would not be able to hide it anymore, whatever she wore, and all the threats her mother had warned her about could become a reality.

“Unlike you,” Daenerys continued, bringing Sansa back to the present, while still looking at her father. “You loved your sister and you protected her son. I want to thank you for that. For protecting my brother Rhaegar’s son, even if you didn’t do it for him. I’m not like Viserys, so I was very happy to hear that a part of my family still existed in this world. And also… I need to ask for your forgiveness. I spent a lot of time blaming you for what happened to my family, because you were fighting alongside the usurper, but I realize now how wrong I was. Especially after what you did for my nephew. My family wronged yours, perhaps even more than yours did mine. So, standing before you now, I want to ask your forgiveness for the terrible crimes of my father.”

“There is nothing to forgive, your Grace. You are not your father. None of this was your fault. You weren’t even born yet, when most of this was happening and you have suffered enough because of it.”

“Thank you,” she answered, and her eyes seemed to soften as she said it. Then, Daenerys turned to the rest of the family, and stopped in front of Arya, who was standing on the left side of Lady Catelyn, next to Bran and Rickon, while Sansa with her father stood on the other.

The redhead felt Ned’s comforting hand on her back, and relaxed a little as she waited for the exchange. She could only hope that Arya would not say anything stupid to insult her or anger her and ruin the good ground they had been building, like she almost had done herself, when she had told her Jon was a Stark. The spark in Daenerys’ eyes had not gone unnoticed when she had said that. Although Sansa did not know what it meant.

“And what is your name?” she asked her little sister.

“Arya,” Arya replied simply, and Sansa let out a breath she did not know she was holding. “Your hair looks pretty. It looks nothing like Jon’s though. Is it true you have three dragons? Can you ride them?” she asked then, enthusiastically. Everyone from the family was staring at the little she-wolf, who fired one question right after the other, but Daenerys did not seem to mind. If anything, she smiled at Arya what felt like her first genuine smile.

“Well, thank you for your compliment, Arya. I really like your dress,” Daenerys commented and Arya grimaced. As usual her mother had had a hard time convincing her to get out of her breaches and put on a dress. “As for my dragons, I’m afraid they’re not big enough to carry me yet, so I haven’t really tried it.” Well, that was at least good to know, but even so, Sansa knew those dragons were nowhere near safe.

While she greeted the other two, nothing much happened, as they were merely boys, who behaved way better than Arya ever would, and so when she was finished, Daenerys moved to the center of the Great Hall—her guards moving with her as she moved—to address not only the Starks, but also the other lords and ladies of the North, who had come for the occasion, and sat on benches on either side of the large room.

“My lords and ladies, I want to thank you all for coming to greet me. I know my presence here is not welcomed by everyone, as Lord Manderly was quick to express when we met at White Harbor, but I swear to you that I have no ill intends toward you. On the contrary, I only wish to help you. When I see your faces, I can see the distrust and hesitation. I know there has been bad blood between the Targaryens and the North for many years—centuries even—as, from my understanding, even before the crimes of my father and brother, the Northmen never liked to be ruled by anyone except one of their own,” Daenerys said, facing the crowd and loud murmurs started filling the Hall again.

“So, apart from coming here to meet my nephew, as I mentioned in my letter to Lord Stark, I’ve also come with an offer. You have sworn your fealty to House Stark and you have sworn to protect my nephew against any attack from Robert Baratheon. I’m willing to assist your fight against him with my army of Unsullied and my three dragons, if, in return, you help me take my rightful place on the Iron Throne, since from what Lord Stark has confessed to me, my nephew has no desire of claiming the throne for himself.”

The murmurs became louder and Sansa was worried that they would start fighting soon, but Daenerys, raising her hand, asked for their attention once again.

“My lords, please, I’m not finished,” she said and everyone stopped talking. “There is more that comes with my offer, and it is this; if you help me win the throne, I will grand the North its independence… as long as you make my nephew your king,” she finished, and the crowd started yelling, but Sansa could not tell if it was in anger or not, and she felt her heart race once again. Then, in a moment in which she met Daenerys’ eyes, the silver-haired girl smiled at her a smile Sansa could not interpret.

“As the lovely Sansa mentioned to me earlier, Jon is a Stark. While we were traveling north, her father also confirmed that when the two were married, my nephew officially took the Stark name, so instead of Targaryen, he is now Jon Stark. Although I was displeased to learn this at first, I believe that, in the end, it is for everyone’s best interest,” Daenerys said, before, with a look towards the man Sansa had thought looked like a Northerner, she ordered him to come and stand next to her.

“Jorah, as a Northerner yourself, what is the saying that the people in the North all like to say so much?” she asked, and Sansa became even more confused. What was she referring to? And could this be Jorah Mormont? The one who had fled when her father, years ago, had declared him a traitor to the realm and had wanted to bring to justice because he sold slaves? Daenerys had said he was indeed a Northerner, so it was possible.

“We know no King, but the King in the North, whose name is Stark, your Grace,” the man—Jorah—answered.

“We know no King, but the King in the North, whose name is Stark, you say, and I say that my nephew is a Stark and he should be your King, while I also expect him, once I too get my throne, as my nephew, to retain the peace between the two kingdoms. The North and the rest of Westeros, which will become one united kingdom, with one army loyal only to me. No more Lannisters or Baratheons or Tyrells. No more fighting amongst ourselves. The same goes for you. Everyone knows that the North is as large as the other kingdoms combined, and so, it was not easy for me to decide to give the North up. But as long as it remains in the family, who happens to be your Lord’s family also, carrying the Stark name, I am willing to grand you your independence and promise that as long as I’m on the Iron Throne, I will never invade your lands nor will anyone else.”

Sansa’s head was spinning from everything she was hearing, but she, like the rest, did not know how to react, and by the look on his face, Lord Stark did not seem to have known any of Daenerys’ plans either.

“I talked earlier about how cruel my brother Viserys was to me, when I was carrying a child,” Daenerys said, facing Sansa and her father this time, as she came closer to them. “What I didn’t say is that I lost that child. It was born dead, and I was told I couldn’t have any more children. So, as fate would have it, I cannot produce an heir of my own. Thus, as a last requirement for the North’s Indipendence, Jon and Sansa’s firstborn child must succeed me on the throne after I’m dead, whether they are a boy or a girl. The condition is that they will be given an appropriate Targaryen name and also that they will be legitimized as a Targaryen, if not when they’re born then once they come of age, so that they can continue my line, while also keeping the peace between the kingdoms,” the Targaryen girl ended her speech and Sansa held her breath as Daenerys’ eyes then fell on her stomach, before she lifted her gaze to meet Sansa’s again. The silver-haired beauty did not say anything, but only smiled at her knowingly, and at that moment, Sansa knew she had already discovered her secret.

˜*˜

Jon

It had been three days since they left Craster’s Keep, where they had made camp, walking in the frozen North, where all they could see was snow and nothing else. If his uncle had made it here Jon could not tell, but it was not just about him anymore. During their stay at Craster’s, Jon had made a few troubling discoveries, the most important of which being something that the Lord Commander had lied to him about.

Craster was a man who lived alone with his daughters away from all the other wildlings who had fled the area, and also someone the Night’s Watch had often visited during their expeditions beyond the Wall, since his was the only place they could take refuge at. Craster, however, was not kind or hospitable, even if he had offered them a roof to sleep under. On the contrary, he was nothing but a vile man, who—living beyond the laws of the Seven Kingdoms that forbade it—kept his daughters as his wives, who then in turn gave him more daughters.

During their stay at the keep—besides the obvious reason—this whole thing had bothered Jon very much, because, although the place was full of his daughters/wives, there were no men or boys around, and Jon could not explain how or why, until during their last night there, the truth had finally come to the light. A truth that apparently Lord Commander Mormont had already known about and had kept from all of them.

The wights, as they were called in the stories, were not the first creatures the Night’s Watch had come upon or known about, and the reason Craster had not been afraid to stay at his home, while the rest of the Wildlings had fled, had been because for years now he had been giving his sons as a sacrifice to the Gods, as he called them. But those were not the Old Gods the Starks worshiped or the New, Sansa’s mother always prayed to, but the gods beyond the Wall, the White Walkers—which everything seemed to suggest truly existed.

“What’s on your mind?” Robb asked, pulling Jon out of his thoughts as they walked next to each other, holding the reins of their horses. The snow was making it difficult for the animals to carry them, so they had decided it was best to dismount. Ghost and Grey Wind were not too far ahead from them, always looking back to make sure they were following them.

“I saw it. The thing that took Craster’s son. It was not like the rest. It was—”

“A White Walker,” Robb finished.

“So, you believe me, then?” Jon asked, looking at his brother.

“How could I not? After everything we’ve seen… Jon, I know we both agreed that we would not leave before we found Uncle Benjen, but maybe we must accept the truth for what it is.”

“And what truth is that?”

“Do you really need to ask? After what we’ve come upon, do you really think Uncle Benjen is still alive? We’re no use to anyone dying out here. We need to go back and warn the rest about what we saw; about what’s going on. This is much bigger than a man’s life, even if that man is our uncle.”

“You really think he’s dead?” Jon asked, and sighed sadly.

“You saw the rest of them. They were with Uncle Ben when he left. And then they were all dead, until they weren’t. How could he alone have survived what they did not? He was with them. It’s obvious that they were ambushed. If not dead, he’s probably one of them now. Jon, the more we move ahead, the more trouble we will find.”

“So, we should just give up, then?”

“We’re not giving up. We’re not prepared for whatever is out here. When we started, we thought all we’d have to deal with were Wildlings. Now we know that’s not true. Even with the Night’s Watch brothers, we’re not that many. After what happened at Craster’s, we’d be fools to continue as we were. We don’t know what lies ahead. If we come upon a larger force, there’s no guarantee that we’ll make it out alive, and we need to warn everyone of what we saw. Prepare ourselves,” Robb said, but before Jon had a chance to answer, an arrow hit one of their men in the chest and he collapsed on the ground. Soon, the horses were running scared in all directions and everyone was immersed in battle. Arrows flew everywhere, while the sound of sword meeting sword echoed in the wind.

Jon found himself fighting against a huge man with a bald head, Longclaw pushing forcefully against the handle of his axe, keeping it away, while his back was against Robb’s back who was also fighting against someone else. Their wolves had their teeth in two different men’s necks, before they moved to the next, and Jon with an expert maneuver succeeded to push the man away long enough to then quickly drive his sword through his belly, ending him. It was not long before the battle was over for all of them and those of the Wildlings, who were not dead already, were on their knees, restrained, and now that Jon could see everyone, he could not understand why they had attacked them. They could not possibly have expected to win. They were very few in comparison to their own men and their act seemed to have been born out of desperation.

“Who are you? Why are you attacking us?” Ser Rodrik asked a man with red hair and beard, while he pointed his sword in his face. Three of the Stark men were barely holding him down, trying to put him in irons, since he was huge.

“We saw the Crows,” the man said after a moment, while on his knees, as he stopped fighting them, pointing with his head towards the Night’s Watch brothers. “We thought that if we captured any of them, we could negotiate a safe passage for our people south of the Wall.”

“Since when do Wildlings negotiate?” a Night’s Watch brother asked, with a sneer.

“Since we’ve been hunted down one by one by monsters like we’re animals,” he said and took in the look on everyone’s faces.

“You’ve seen them too, haven’t you?” he asked, but did not wait for an answer, since it was obvious from their expressions. Not all of them had been there during the attack, but they had heard the story all the same and had seen what had been left of the pyre of the burning bodies, when they had come north.

“We had started gathering, planning for a proper attack, trying to find which castle we should attack on the Wall, when they came and tore us apart. We had a King, but he’s gone now. They took him. Killed him and made him one of their own. Those of us who survived fled. The only reason we survived is exactly because we fled. The only Free Folk that remain are at Hardhome, but we do not know until how long. We can’t stay here anymore. It’s not safe for anyone.”

“And why should we care? As far as I’m concerned you can all choke. We should all go back to Castle Black. Why should we care about what happens north of the Wall?” another Night’s Watch brother said, one that Jon could not remember his name.

“Are you really that dumb, or are you pretending? Do you not understand what this man says?” Jon exploded. “If they came for them, make no mistake that they will come for all of us too. And if we leave them out here to die, the only thing we’ll manage is add them to their army. Even if you didn’t believe me then, I know what I saw in those woods, at Craster’s. And even before that, right before we left, under the Weirwood tree. Some of you were there, during the attack. You saw them. They were already dead, when they came after us. The rest of you heard about it. Those were not lies. Those were not just scary stories. What is happening now should be enough proof of that,” Jon spoke as he looked around at everyone, who looked at him with fearful or sad faces and he felt their fear right back; a woman amongst them, a redhead, who reminded him of Sansa, but looked nothing like her, looked at him almost as if she was impressed by his words, and the very thought of Sansa renewed his courage. Suddenly he realized how right Robb had been. There was nothing for them there and there was no point for them to go on. All they needed to know had already come from that man’s mouth, and it was not just Uncle Ben that he needed to worry about, but his entire family, and he would die first before he let anything happen to Sansa or any of them.

“We’re going back to Castle Black. But before that we must send ravens to all the occupied castles on the Wall, inform them of the situation,” he said as he turned to look at the man who was still kneeling on the ground like the rest of the surviving Wildlings. “If I’m not mistaken, isn’t Hardhome located by the water?” Jon asked and the man nodded. “Then we need to ask for ships,” he said as he looked at Robb.

“Yes, we need to get a raven to Father. He will know what to do. Manderly has ships he can send to transport them to safety. Maybe there are a few already at Eastwatch,” Robb agreed, a plan already forming in their heads, while their direwolves came to stand next to both of them, their snouts still drenched in blood.

“Who are you?” the redheaded man asked, as he looked between them both.

“We are of the North. Sons of Lord Eddard of House Stark,” Robb answered, as Jon noticed Ser Rodrik and Jory looking at both of them with pride. “The blood of the First Men runs through our veins just like it does in yours, and we promise you that we will not let you perish, but we will join you against our common enemy,” his brother said with determination, and Jon felt the same way. It was nice to hear Robb call him Eddard Stark’s son, and in a way he knew that he would always be his son and Robb’s brother, through Sansa. And even if he was not Robb’s real brother, the same blood ran through their veins; the blood of the First Men and the Starks, and Jon had every intention of living up to it, even if he also shared the blood of the Dragon. But he would not be like his real father, he would be the hero Sansa truly deserved.

Chapter Text

Sansa

Sansa was sitting by the hearth with Lady’s head in her lap, stroking the direwolf’s soft fur, while daydreaming about the day she would get to tell Jon about their child. The day he would return home to her, with her beloved brother and, hopefully, uncle by his side. But with every day that passed that dream seemed farther and farther away than she would have hoped for. It had been more than a week since Daenerys’ arrival at Winterfell and even longer since the last time she had heard anything from Jon and Robb, and so, she was starting to become nervous, and could not shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. However, she did not know what.

Thus, to keep her mind clear of any unpleasant thoughts, she tried to think about her husband’s reaction to the news of their babe instead. In her mind, she could see him, clear as day, smiling at her before his mouth spread into a wide grin just as he moved to hug her tightly, close to his body, careful of her growing belly where their child rested. And that reoccurring dream always put a smile on her own face, because she knew that the moment Jon came back, all this uneasiness and fear about Robert Baratheon, the Targaryen girl under their roof or anyone and anything else that could pose a threat to their family would disappear. Because when Jon was by her side, she could face anything. She was at her strongest.

At the soft knock on the door, however, her daydreams were brought to a halt, as she turned her eyes to the entrance of her and Jon’s chambers.

“Come in,” she said and, a moment later, the girl she had come to know as Missandei entered the room, followed by the silver-haired Daenerys Targaryen herself.

Except for that first introduction, Sansa had not seen her much, trying mostly to keep to her chambers away from everyone, visited occasionally only by members of her family and most commonly by her lady mother. Daenerys’ words about her firstborn child with Jon, although they had seemed to come from a good place and had been more of a suggestion than a term as the Targaryen girl had later hurried to explain, during a private dinner with her parents, away from the other lords and ladies—or so she had claimed—had caused fear and mistrust in Sansa. As she had later come to realize, it was true that Daenerys seemed to care first and foremost about her own reign, and yet it was obvious to Sansa that, despite trying to downplay it, she also hoped for there to be a Targaryen to rule after her, even if that Targaryen was not the couple’s firstborn. But all logic suggested that in any case, if Daenerys could not bear children of her own, any future Targaryen would have to come from Jon, since Jon was Daenerys’ last living relative who shared her blood. And if that were true, then, that child would have to come from Sansa as well, and the redhead had no intention of ever being separated from any of her hypothetical future children, at least not until they were old enough, and it was their own choice.

“I hope I’m not interrupting your rest, Lady Sansa,” Daenerys said then, smiling sweetly at her, and her voice pulled Sansa out of her own thoughts and brought her back to the present.

“No, your Grace. You didn’t interrupt anything. I was just petting Lady,” Sansa answered as Daenerys made her way to the chair opposite her in front of the hearth. Missandei chose to remain standing by her queen’s side.

“Your dog’s name is Lady? How fitting,” Daenerys commented and the redhead did not know if she was being made fun of or not. With Daenerys she could never tell for sure. Her eyes sometimes spoke different truths than her mouth, and every time she smiled at her, Sansa did not know if it was sincere or not, and felt as if she was being mocked.

Immediately Lady’s stance changed as she sensed Sansa’s uneasiness and stood protectively between them, facing the Targaryen girl, while keeping her head still close to Sansa’s belly, as Sansa continued to scratch behind the direwolf’s ears. She had grown a lot since the last time Jon had been here, back when she used to lie down next to Ghost, whom Sansa also missed tremendously.

“She is a direwolf, not a dog,” Sansa corrected, and Daenerys’ smile grew wider.

“But yes, of course. How could I forget? Direwolves, like your House’s sigil. I only meant to say that she seems very tame, especially in comparison to your siblings’ pets. I had the misfortune of running into the black one. I believe he is your youngest brother’s. He was in no mood for petting that one and he didn’t seem to like me much. Yours must have taken after you, sweet and kind like a true lady. My dragons aren’t in a petting mood either these days. The bigger they become, the less affectionate they get. But a mother knows to love her children regardless,” Daenerys finished, meeting Sansa’s eyes.

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” she asked then suddenly.

“Your Grace, I—”

“I know you’ve been avoiding me. Your mother said you had fallen ill, but we both know that’s a lie,” Daenerys said and paused. “Forgive me for being so forward the other day. My son may have died before I was able to hold him in my arms, but my dragons are my children now, and one thing I know for certain is that I would never give them up for anything in the world. I know I scared you. It was foolish of me to say such a thing, without explaining further. I would never take your child away from you. I would never take a child away from its mother. What I suggested was only for the good of our Houses and the peace of the realm. Once they’re old enough, and you’re both ready, they could come to the capital and become my ward. I would teach them to be a king or a queen, prepare them to rule after me. I’m not trying to steal them from you. I only care for the future of our families. And of course you would be welcome to come as well, whenever you wanted. Would it be so terrible to see your daughter or son on the throne one day?”

“I mean no offence, your Grace, and I would never stand obstacle to my children’s future, but this is not something I am ready to discuss and negotiate. It is too soon to talk about such things, especially since Robert Baratheon still sits on that throne you claim as yours. All I can think about for now is keeping my family safe, and Jon most of all. Because he is the one King Robert is after. And regardless of that, I don’t even know if Jon is still alive. It’s been days since we heard any news from him and my brother, and I’m worried. So, forgive me, but I don’t feel right talking about such a delicate matter without him present. I know you haven’t met him yet, but I’d like to believe that if you do value him as your family and a child is perhaps someday born to us, you will find it in your heart to respect whatever decision we reach together as parents.”

Daenerys did not say anything for a moment, looking as if she was letting the redhead’s words sink in, but then she met Sansa’s eyes again, who was staring at her defiantly, refusing to look as scared as she felt inside.

“Is it your husband’s absence that frightens you so much or the fact that you’re already with child?”

“I—” Sansa uttered, helpless, trying to find words to deny the truth she knew Daenerys was already certain of.

“Please, don’t lie to me. I know a pregnant woman when I see one. I knew from the moment I first laid eyes on you. You looked like a she-wolf trying to protect her unborn pup.”

Sansa sighed defeated, before she met the dragon-queen’s eyes. “It’s not something we want people to know. If the wrong people heard, my child could be in a lot of danger.”

Daenerys seemed to get teary-eyed for a moment, until her expression changed and now looked determined. “You have nothing to fear from me. This is my nephew’s child. My brother Rhaegar’s grandchild. Boy or girl, they’re blood of my blood and I will protect them. No one will harm your child. Not as long as I live. Robert Baratheon already tried to have mine murdered before it even had a chance to see the world, and he eventually got his wish, but I will not allow him to harm a Targaryen child ever again. Your secret is safe with me,” she promised, and then immediately got up. She seemed upset, but Sansa could not fault her reaction. On the contrary, for the first time she found herself sympathizing with her. It must have been hard for her to remember her own babe, and how it had been lost to her before she had even had the chance to hold it in her arms.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to return to my own chambers. I hope to talk to you again soon, Sansa.”

“Of course, your Grace. I’d like that,” Sansa said and, strangely, found herself meaning every word. Perhaps having Daenerys here was not a bad thing. Having another woman to support her, who understood what she was going through, was no small thing, and after her falling out with Jeyne, she did not know if she had any friends left that she could really trust with this.

“I’ll see you later,” the silver-haired girl said then with a tight smile, and, before long, she, as well as Missandei, were both out of the room, leaving her alone once more with her thoughts.

˜*˜

Jon

On their way back, maybe a day or two away from Castle Black, the sky was getting darker and the wind stronger as a storm was closing in on them. It had been days since they had sent ravens ahead of them to all the occupied castles on the Wall—Robb had even written one for Father himself—and hopefully they had reached their destination and help was already on the way. However, Jon was still worried, as were the others.

The truth about the White Walkers and what they had done to the Wildlings—or Free Folk, as they called themselves—what they could still do to the North and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, had left a permanent fear in Jon’s heart, and what had started as just an expedition to find and save their uncle a few weeks ago had now turned into a much more complicated and urgent mission. One upon which thousands of lives depended—maybe even humanity itself—and at the very thought of anything happening to his family, to Sansa, a violent shiver ran through his body.

“You seem cold! Not used to the North, are ya?” a voice pulled him from his thoughts, and Jon turned to see the redheaded woman, who was a member of the Wildling party that had attacked them and which they were now bringing with them back to the Wall, smirking at him. Instead of answering, he looked forward again and kept walking. He was in no mood for small talk or games.

“We’re Northerners just like you,” Robb answered for the both of them, walking next to him, but he failed to keep his teeth from chattering, the cold getting worse as night approached.

“You’re both from south of the Wall. That makes you Southerners to us. This is the real North.”

“If you say so…” Robb said again, while Jon remained silent.

“Well, if you want, I could warm you up. There’s no need to be shy or play brave with me. I won’t judge,” she offered, and when Jon turned to look at her, scandalized by her words, he realized she was still only watching him, instead of the both of them.

“No, thank you,” he spoke for the first time, irritation coloring his voice. “I don’t think my wife would appreciate that. I’ll keep myself warm.”

“A wife you said? Pity. But then again, you’re a pretty lad, no wonder you’re taken. But you also look so young. Did you put a babe in some girl? Is that what happened? Is that why you took a wife? To protect her honor? Isn’t that what you lordlings do south of the Wall? Alas, the offer still stands. What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.”

“Can you please stop? I didn’t put a babe in anyone, and I will never disrespect my wife,” Jon said in an angry voice, getting the attention of the people around them. Thankfully Robb said nothing. Jon did not dare to look at him and see his reaction or even think what was probably going through his brother’s mind. Because, even though the subject of Sansa had been brought up between them before, and they seemed to be in a good place with each other, he still felt awkward and avoided talking to him about her most of the time.

“You’re loyal to your woman. I respect that. Not many men are. Most men would jump at the chance, if offered. Even when they have wives and children waiting for them back at home.”

“Yeah, Jon Snow only has eyes for his sister-wife,” a Night’s Watch brother said suddenly, cackling, after hearing her words, and others followed and started laughing as well. “Didn’t you hear? He’s Jon Stark now. She gave him her name, because he’s a bastard. It’s in his bastard nature to lust after his sister,” another one yelled. “He’s both a bastard and a Targaryen. I don’t know which one’s worse,” said the first one again as the laughter continued, and Grey Wind and Ghost growled from his and Robb’s sides, being held back only by their hands on their backs. They were really not worth the trouble.

Jon recognized both their voices, although he could not recall their names. They were part of a group of men who always seemed to antagonize him, and who had adamantly refused to ally with the Wildlings and help them, after he and Robb had already decided it and had given the order to release their prisoners and allow them to come with them to safety, while also promising to send help to the rest of their people. In return, the Wildlings had promised that when the time came, they would convince their people to fight in the Great War. But the Night’s Watch brothers had still disagreed, saying that they could never trust Wildlings, until their Lord Commander had stepped in and had made the final decision for them, choosing to trust in Jon, Robb, and their men, and agreeing to help.

Now, however, it seemed that, in order to get back at Jon, they had currently and conveniently forgotten their hatred towards the Wildlings walking among them, choosing a different target instead, by yelling profanities, not directly at him, but about him, while the rest of the men—especially the Stark men—looked uneasy and ready to intervene, if necessary, and Jon and Robb tried to keep their temper at bay.

“You married and bedded your sister?” the redheaded woman asked then with disgust written plainly on her face.

“She’s not my sister,” Jon objected.

“She’s my sister. And I don’t need to hear any more of this nonsense,” Robb came to the rescue, looking just as angry and humiliated as Jon felt when he met his eyes, but the Wildling did not seem convinced.

“Didn’t ya say you were Lord Stark’s sons? Wouldn’t that make her the sister of both of ya?” she asked.

“Jon isn’t really my brother. He’s my cousin, but he was raised alongside us,” Robb explained as he wrapped his cloak more tightly around his body, the winds and the cold getting stronger with every passing moment.

The argument sounded weak even in Jon’s own ears. Gods knew it had taken him a long time to actually stomach the fact that Sansa was going to be his wife, even if their relationship as siblings beforehand had been pretty much nonexistent. And although now he could not imagine his life without her, he knew for a fact that Robb and the rest of his family were still struggling to accept it, and not everyone was happy with their marriage. He could only guess what this sounded like to a complete stranger, even though many of the people he had met ever since the wedding had been very vocal about their disgust and of what they thought of him. Just like the Night’s Watch brothers did now.

“And that makes it okay to bed her? Even if she’s your cousin, you’re still family. If ya want to have strong children, you don’t sleep with family. Everyone knows that,” the woman said, and Jon only gritted his teeth, and could not find the words to defend himself. And even if he wanted to, he never got the chance to do it, because before too long the storm had caught up to them, and no one could utter a word, as the winds howled around them and heavy snow fell limiting their vision.

And that’s when it happened. The thing they all seemed to have forgotten was still happening, the thing they were running from, and in mere moments, mayhem was all around them.

“Robb, watch out!” Jon shouted, while men screamed around them, but it was too late. Jon saw his brother’s sword breaking into a million pieces the moment it came in contact with what seemed to be a sword made of ice, and neither he nor their direwolves could get to him in time, in the midst of battle, as Robb stood petrified, weaponless and unable to defend himself.

Trying as hard as he could to make his way back to his brother’s side and help him, Jon watched with terror as a dead man wielding a knife came from behind him and stabbed him in the back, causing Robb to fall to his knees. But when the White Walker still standing in front of him attempted to end his life, bringing down his ice blade to decapitate him, Jon Snow’s Valyrian steel sword was there and pushed back, stopping the blow, a metallic sound echoing in the wind, before with a swift maneuver it was driven into the monstrous looking body. A scream, sounding like nothing Jon had ever heard, came from the creature’s mouth, before he too broke into pieces of ice, just like Robb’s sword had, and one after the other the dead around them began to fall into nothing but piles of bones, as his brother’s blood painted the white snow red.

˜*˜

Sansa

The raven from Eastwatch had arrived two days ago, bringing both good and bad news, as well as terrible and terrifying ones. Jon, Robb, and the rest were still alive, after weeks of no contact, but Benjen was not yet found, and was presumed to most likely be dead. The expedition beyond the Wall had gone mostly without issue, before the ranging party had come across a group of Wildlings and had been attacked. The lives lost had been mostly on the Wildlings’ side, and not much harm had come to their own men, except for one, who had lost his life before the battle had even begun.

But that was not the worst part. The worst part was what they had actually discovered, while being there, through their own eyes and the eyes of the Wildlings, who had informed them of what had befallen their people. Something so terrible that seemed as if it had come right out of a nightmare. A danger so big that could end humanity. A threat so severe that made Robert Baratheon seem harmless in comparison.

All the legends and the scary stories Old Nan used to tell them were now coming to life, and Sansa realized that there were much more terrifying things out there than men wielding swords, even if she had already met something equally frightening in the form of Daenerys’ dragons. But the Targaryen girl kept promising them that there was nothing for them to fear. That her dragons would never harm them. But there was no guarantee she could keep that promise when her dragons grew bigger. From all the stories Sansa had ever read or heard as a child about dragons, she knew that no one could really control them, and that’s all she thought whenever she saw one of them roaming the skies from her bedchamber window.

But right now the threat of White Walkers and dead men seemed more real and imminent, because Jon and Robb were still out there, and they had probably not had enough time to reach Castle Black yet, which was where they had said they were headed, after they had begged Father in the letter—a letter Robb himself had written—to send ships to a location north of the Wall where the last surviving Wildling families had gathered.

Lord Eddard Stark—showing trust in his sons’ decision to help the Wildlings—had not wasted any time, sending ravens to Lord Manderly and anyone else with ships that could help. But they all knew it would be days before the ships actually arrived at their destination, and that there was nothing they could do for their own, if they were attacked beyond the Wall, making everyone anxious with worry, while also trying to keep the truth from the youngest members of the family, staying all day inside the Lord’s solar, bent over maps of the land, planning for the worst that was sure to come.

But as it would later be revealed, destiny did not care about age, and all of them would have a role to play in this war. Even the little ones. And this would not be the last time Bran would run to them after a vision he had had, turning the blood in their veins cold with fear.

“I saw Robb, dead in the snow. The three-eyed raven showed me. It’s true. Robb died in the snow. The dead killed him,” little Bran said frantically, after barging into the room, with tear stained cheeks, and bloodshot eyes.

Death as it seemed was already upon them, and for a moment Sansa stopped breathing and felt her own heart bleeding, while she sensed the baby move for the first time inside her.

Chapter Text

Jon

“Open the Gates!” a voice was heard from within the castle as Jon helplessly looked at his unconscious brother, and a moment later the gates of Castle Black were finally opening.

“Get him to the Maester’s chambers! Be quick about it,” Lord Commander Mormont ordered, and the Stark men carrying the makeshift stretcher Robb lay on hurried to obey.

It had been two very strenuous and anxious days to get back to the castle since the incident, during which no one had known if Robb was going to survive or not, but Jon had not let himself get discouraged, and even though Robb could not hear him, he had whispered to his brother, hoping that he would carry his words to the gods, as a warning, as an ask for a favor, as a promise to Robb—he did not know, but he had done it all the same—“You Starks are hard to kill. It’s not your time yet, brother… hold on… Hold on and we’ll see Winterfell and our family once again.” However, watching him now struggling for breath, even unconscious, he did not know if it was mere wishful thinking.

On the way back, they had done everything they could to stop the bleeding, going as far as to burn the stab wound above his waist with a blade to close it and prevent it from getting infected. But now that they were back at the castle, with Maester Aemon and all his knowledge and his medicinal ointments and potions, hopefully something more could be done to save his life. And it was all Jon could think about as he watched them strip Robb of his clothes and bandages, laying him face down on a bed, with the Maester’s experienced voice guiding them through the process of checking and cleaning the wound, until it was all finally done.

“The wound has not festered and he does not appear to be bleeding internally. All we can do now is put salve on the wound and new bandages and give him some milk of the poppy to help him rest and bring the fever down. After that, he is on his own. Tonight will tell if he is to wake or not. May the gods be with him,” the old man said, staring into nothing with his blind eyes, and Jon Snow let himself breathe again. Robb would live, he knew it. Robb was a fighter and he would not go out like this. Not now. Not while they were all in such great danger. Not while he had promised Sansa he would return home with Robb by his side.

All too soon the chamber was emptied and Robb was lying this time on his side under the covers, in order to keep pressure off his wound that was mostly to his right, close to his spine. Jon’s feet carried him next to the bed and as he took ahold of his brother’s hand in his own, he realized he was not the only one in the room, as he had originally thought.

“We haven’t had a chance to speak since you and your cousin arrived at the Castle,” Maester Aemon spoke from his seat by the hearth.

“Maester Aemon,” Jon was taken aback, before he remembered his manners, and letting go of Robb’s hand turned to face the old man. “Thank you for what you’ve done for my brother. I will never forget it.”

“You have nothing to thank me for. It is a Maester’s duty to take care of the ill and wounded. Besides, I did close to nothing. It’s now up to him to fight for his life and up to the gods to be merciful. I only wish we had met under different circumstances. It’s not how I imagined talking to one of my family again would be like. Not that I had any hope that I’d ever see one again. It seems like the world needed to be close to ending for me to be in the same room with another Targaryen.”

Jon felt uncomfortable under the blind man’s eyes that seemed to be staring into his very soul, even without seeing. “I’m a poor example of one. I never had the chance to talk to or meet any of my father’s family either, and all I’ve known all my life is the North and the Starks,” he confessed, but he did not sound or feel sorry. Being a Targaryen was not something he ever wanted. Even back when he and Robb had been children and he had claimed to be Aemon the Dragonknight while playing, it had not been what he had truly wanted to be. All he had ever dreamed of being was a Stark and Lord of Winterfell. The dragons and the Targaryens had always been mere stories to him, and he had never thought much about them. Out of all the Stark children, Arya and Bran were the only ones fascinated by them.

“Everything happens for a reason. You’re standing here today because of the Starks, even if they had a role to play in the demise of our House. And you care for them. That much is clear. I couldn’t help but notice you still call that boy your brother, even though he’s only your cousin. And now you’re also married to a Stark, your former sister, not unlike our family tradition. And you came here looking to save your uncle. They have raised you well, Jon Snow. They have raised you to be honorable and dutiful, and I’m happy to see that you love them and they love you back. But it’s never too late to get in touch with the other side of your family. Perhaps you don’t yet feel like a Targaryen, but still, you have our blood, and it could be that you’re carrying our curse too,” Maester Aemon finished and sounded ominous.

“And what curse is that?” Jon asked, his heart starting to beat faster inside his chest.

“A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing, Jon Snow. Always remember that,” the old man answered simply.

“What does that mean? Why are you telling me this? Especially since you’ve been away from your family for most of your life?”

“Yes. I have been. And I had to make my peace with it. Even if it was something terrible, weighing on me every single day. And when the war came and my whole family was butchered… even the children, even the little children—your real half siblings—I had to stay here and take no part in anything, because I was a man of the Night’s Watch and I had taken a vow. Because as the Maester of Castle Black my place was here. But it’s not the same fate that weighs you down, Jon Snow, and if you can make things right between your two families, you should do it. And you’ll have the chance to do it, if you so wish it.”

“How do you mean? Apart from you the only family I have left—”

“—is waiting for you back at Winterfell. Staying as an honored guest,” Maester Aemon said and Jon looked at him as if he had lost his mind. No, that could not be true. If that were true then it was not just a member of his father’s family that was at Winterfell but also the beasts accompanying her. Dragons. Sansa! No no no… this can’t be true. Sansa… Arya… Bran… Rickon, Jon thought. His entire family was in danger. Because even if dragons were magnificent beasts and legends to his two younger siblings, he knew them for what they really were. Terrifying. Able to burn down castles and whole cities. How could Father—uncle, whatever—let this happen? How could he invite Daenerys into our home, with my wife and siblings—cousins—there?

“When did she arrive? How long has she been there?” Jon demanded to know and sounded almost out of breath, as his panic made it almost impossible for him to breathe.

“I know you’re scared for your family. But you should not be. Your uncle, the Lord of Winterfell, wrote to us, asking for any news from you and your cousin. The raven came early this morning, before you arrived. He said he’s doing everything he can to send help to Hardhome and also informed us about Daenerys. Everything is going well between her and your family, but only you can make this permanent. I told you before, Jon Snow, a Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing, and perhaps you have already found your family, but she is on her own. So, don’t let her. Because loneliness as well as greatness go hand in hand with madness in our family, and when someone has as much power as she does it can be a dangerous thing for everyone. She’s been hunted like an animal her entire life. Don’t let that be her fate anymore. And perhaps you’ll find it to be in your favor as well. The wights you faced near the weirwood tree, commander Mormont said fire destroyed them. So, if there’s anything dragons could be useful against is the very thing we’re facing now. You should not see Daenerys’ arrival as a threat but as a blessing, for she might be our only hope to win the war against the dead,” Maester Aemon finished, and without another word stood up and left the chamber, leaving Jon alone with Robb and his thoughts.

If Robb needed to wake up before, now he had to more than ever. Because Jon did not know how he could face this on his own, without his brother. Robb needed to wake up and get well soon, and they both needed to get back to Winterfell at once. Their entire family depended on it, and Jon was willing to do anything to keep them safe.

˜*˜

Sansa

Arya was sitting silently across from her, watching her caressing her belly tenderly. By now every single member of her family knew about the baby, including Arya, and since the pregnancy was too obvious to hide from the rest of the world, Sansa always remained within the walls of her and Jon’s bedchambers, only visited by her family and Daenerys.

After admitting the truth about her pregnancy to Daenerys, the silver-headed girl had stayed true to her word and had not revealed the fact to anyone else, and although more often than not Sansa was suspicious of her good behavior and her motives regarding the baby, her pregnancy had brought the two of them closer and they at least appeared to be friendly with each other now. Something that could not be said about Daenerys’ handmaiden, Missandei, who was not as trusting as the Targaryen girl, and, unlike Sansa, could not hide it very well—always watchful of every move and every word Sansa uttered to Daenerys.

On the bright side, Arya had taken the news of the baby quite well and had not said anything mean to Sansa since finding out. But Sansa did not know if she could trust her sister just yet, because she looked as if she was holding back words that she was not willing to share. At least she was civil. Only time would tell what her real feelings were.

“Theon was asking about you. He wanted to know how you’re doing and why he hasn’t seen you lately,” Arya broke the silence and pulled Sansa from her thoughts. The hand on her midsection stopped moving, and she looked alarmed at her little sister.

“You didn’t tell him anything about the baby, did you?” she asked.

“Of course not. I’m not stupid. But how long do you think you can keep this from him? Sooner or later he’s going to find out. I’m surprised the boys haven’t told him yet.”

“We made them promise, and the only reason we did tell them was so they could be happy about something. The whole thing with Bran’s visions and Robb has been hard on all of us—”

“Robb is going to be fine, and we’ll get to see him soon. According to the letter Jon sent, it won’t be long before they reach home.”

“I hope so, for our sake,” Sansa muttered and went back to caressing her belly, her thoughts once more traveling to her husband and her older brother.

“What about Jeyne?” Arya asked then, after a long moment of silence, surprising her.

“What about her?” Sansa asked back.

“Have you told her about the baby yet? I haven’t seen her around.”

“No, I haven’t; and I’m not planning to either. Jeyne is not family. So, she can’t know,” Sansa answered simply. It was clear that Arya had no idea she and Jeyne Poole had been fighting and Sansa intended to keep it that way, because then she wouldn’t have to tell her the reason they had been fighting over. A reason which Sansa herself could barely remember at this point. So much had happened since then, and their fight seemed silly now. But Jeyne had not tried to approach her and make up, so Sansa—stubborn as she herself was—never did either. And especially now that she was expecting, she simply could not. After their fight she did not know if she could still trust her. Or Theon for that matter, since she knew how strongly he felt about Jon. She could only hope his feelings for her were at least a thing of the past. Because she most certainly did not need another complication in her life.

“But Daenerys is? How come she gets to know? Are you two friends now? She’s always visiting you. Did you forget she wants to take Jon’s baby for herself?” Arya asked then, sounding irritated, which seemed strange to Sansa. She thought Arya liked Daenerys. Or admired her, if not that. She was most definitely smitten with her dragons. Sansa often caught her looking at them wistfully through her window, whenever she came to visit and they happened to fly over the towers of Winterfell.

“I didn’t choose to tell Daenerys. She figured it out, and besides, she is our ally. And she is family. She’s Jon’s aunt,” Sansa explained.

“But she wants what’s rightfully Jon’s. His birthright.”

“You know as well as I that Jon is not interested in the Iron Throne. He never was.”

“Just because Jon is good and humble doesn’t mean he does not deserve it. I’m surprised you don’t want it. Isn’t that all you ever wished for? Become a queen and marry a king? You’ve already gotten with child, so it’s not like you and Jon can part ways now and marry someone else. Where are your ambitions?” Sansa was quickly getting tired of this conversation. Arya still thought her as that stupid girl who dreamt of princes and roses and romance, but Sansa had changed.

The circumstances had forced her to change, become more of a realist and less of a romantic, even though she loved Jon and she knew Jon loved her, and she would soon get to hold the fruit of their love in her arms. And although becoming a queen or a princess used to be something she dreamt about, nevertheless it had never been about the power. It had always been about the handsome prince she would get to marry, fall in love, and have a family with, like the stories she used to read when she was a child. And now she already had all those things, therefore, Jon taking the Iron Throne would mean little to nothing to her. Besides, she did not think Jon would want to leave Winterfell and she herself realized that the idea of parting from her family and going south was not so appealing anymore. After losing her uncle and almost losing Robb, she felt the need to be close to the people she loved for as long as possible. So, if Daenerys wanted the throne, she could have it. And if Daenerys was queen, at least then Robert Baratheon would have been dealt with and Jon would no longer be in danger.

“We have much bigger problems now, Arya. Should I remind you what’s currently happening beyond the Wall? Our little brother’s visions? Robb? What about Robert Baratheon? Have you forgotten about him? The Iron Throne is neither Jon nor Daenerys’ as long as he sits on it. Besides, Jon’s birthright rests entirely on a past dynasty. As long as Robert and the rest of his family are around, they have a better claim on the throne. Jon or Daenerys would have to go to war to reclaim that throne, and that’s the last thing we need with everything that’s happening in the North.”

“But Daenerys is planning to go to war anyway. It is the first thing she told us when she arrived. She wants us to join forces to defeat Robert Baratheon.”

“As long as the threat to the North remains, we should not concern ourselves with such matters. The war against the dead is more important and comes first.”

“I know that. And I fully intend to be a part of that battle. Like the heroes in Old Nan’s stories,” Arya said and looked wistful again like when she looked at the dragons and probably dreamt of riding them, not unlike Visenya, one of her favorites.

“You will do no such thing. You’re just a little girl,” Sansa protested, afraid of the readiness she saw in her little sister’s eyes.

“Of course I will. Father says we might all need to fight to survive if the dead get past the Wall. And since you can’t fight, it will fall upon me to protect my little nephew or niece and the rest of our family,” Arya said in a steady voice like she meant every word, which Sansa was certain she did and that was what terrified her the most. The very thought of her little sister fighting against White Walkers and wights was unbearable to her, and she was about to express that fear, when loud voices were heard from the yard and somehow in her heart she knew this could only mean one thing. Jon and Robb were back, and the kick she felt against her stomach told her that her baby agreed as well. Thank the gods. They were home, safe—at least for now.

Chapter Text

Jon

Jon had just gotten off his horse when he was shocked by the impact of a little girl falling on him, and then hugging him tightly around the waist without letting go. A little girl Jon soon realized to be Arya, and the moment he did, hugged back just as tightly, feeling close to tears from the relief of having his little sister again in his arms.

“Jon,” Arya muttered, her face buried in his cloak, before she looked up and her already crying eyes met his.

“Arya… little sister,” Jon said back, his voice choked with emotion.

“You’re back. I’m so glad,” she said, and Jon wiped a tear away from her cheek with his thumb. “It’s been so long,” she added and looked even sadder. So many things had happened since he had last seen her, and such difficult times were still ahead of them. “Where’s Robb?” she asked then, and Jon resigned to his fate of having to be the one to tell her, braced himself and tried to find the right words in an attempt to make it easier and not as painful. But there was nothing easy about what he was about to tell her and the pain to come was guaranteed.

“Arya, Robb—”

“AHHHH…” a gut-wrenching scream was heard, and both Arya and Jon turned to look at Lady Stark who had fallen on her knees in the mud in front of the carriage where Robb currently sat in, just inside the gates, and Jon felt his heart clench with renewed fear and pain.

“Jon?” Arya turned to look at him again with wide eyes. “What happened?” she asked in a whisper, but before Jon could even speak, she fled from his embrace and ran to Robb and her mother, only to then stop right next to Lady Stark and in front of the opened door of the carriage, staring at her brother inside. She did not say anything or cry in agony like her mother was still doing, only continued to stare. Nevertheless Jon knew that she realized; she realized that terrible thing that was wrong.

Without even thinking, he found himself walking towards them and, just as he reached them, felt Jory’s hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Their eyes met and he nodded, standing back as he watched his father—that he only now noticed was there—and Ser Rodrik pull Lady Stark back on her feet and hold her upright as she carried on crying , unable to remain standing by herself. Eddard Stark met his gaze with his own then, but Jon could not stand the weight of it and quickly averted his eyes, before both he and Jory moved forward and, stepping on the carriage, got ahold of Robb from each side and swiftly and steadily moved him to the stretcher that was waiting for him right outside.

“Jon,” his brother muttered, as he was laid down, holding onto Jon’s hand tightly. “Don’t leave me,” he said pleadingly, as Lady Stark’s sobs could still be heard in the background. Jon, however, did not have the heart to look her way, and instead held his eyes solely on Robb and nodded reassuringly.

“I won’t. I promise. We need to take you to your chambers though,” he told him then and Robb nodded back in understanding, as three more men came forward and they along with Jory took a handle of the stretcher each and, lifting it in the air, started to walk towards the castle, with Jon walking right beside them, still holding onto his brother’s hand in solidarity and comfort, as both their direwolves joined them.

The closer they got to the doors the more familiar faces appeared, staring at them in either shock or sadness. Vayon Poole and his daughter Jeyne, who had tears in her eyes. Maester Luwin and Theon, who looked at his wounded best friend in shock. Bran, who looked at them with empty eyes, holding back their little brother Rickon, who was futilely trying to get to them while tears were running down his face, with Summer and Shaggydog standing faithfully by their sides. And then, finally, an unfamiliar face, who, however, was not hard to recognize at all, as the silver mane on her head did nothing to mask her identity.

Daenerys Targaryen herself was looking at them with curious and mysterious eyes. Eyes that said so much and yet at the same time nothing at all. Eyes that could probably grasp everyone’s attention, but could not hold his for long, as all he could think about was the steady feeling of his brother’s hand in his own and Sansa. His beautiful redheaded Sansa.

Where is Sansa? Where is my wife? Jon thought as the screech of a dragon was heard above their heads.

˜*˜

Sansa

It was a long time after Jon and Robb had arrived at the castle when Sansa was finally able to safely leave her bedchambers and go in search of her husband and brother. The corridors of Winterfell were empty this late in the night and every step she took on the paved floor sounded so loud in her ears, it had her looking around her in fear and grasping Lady’s fur more firmly in her hand, as the direwolf moved silently beside her.

She knew their people loved them and she wanted to believe that if any of them found out about her condition it would not lead to anything bad, but she also knew the power of gossip and how huge the news of her pregnancy would be to stop it from happening. And then, if more than a handful of people knew, how easy it would be for the information to spread and at some point reach the wrong ears.

The only people who knew were her family, Daenerys and by extension Missandei, Maester Luwin, and lastly her handmaiden that had been sworn to secrecy and so far seemed to have kept this secret to herself. But if any more knew—who were not a part of her family—could prove to be too dangerous and Sansa was not willing to take that chance. So, she had had to wait until now to see them, even if every moment away from them had proven to be pure torture.

The moment Arya had come back to her bedchambers and with tears in her eyes had told her what had befallen Robb, she had felt the ground under her feet disappear and had needed a table and her little sister to keep her from falling. Robb, her sweet Robb. The good honorable Robb. How could the gods be so cruel to let death itself stab her brother in the back and leave him like this? No wonder Jon had not left his side. Even if secretly she wished that he would have come to her by now. But she could not be this selfish. Robb needed him more than she did, and even though this was not how she had imagined giving him the news about their baby, it was their fate for it to happen like this. So, it would have to do.

˜*˜

Jon

Jon stared at the sleeping form of his brother, as he lay under the covers, both Grey Wind and Ghost on each side of his legs, keeping him warm, and wondered if now was a good time to go see Sansa. But just as the thought came to his mind he immediately disregarded it, thinking his wife was probably asleep by now.

He could not understand what could have possibly kept her away and why she had not been outside in the courtyard like all the other members of their family, but he could also not blame her since he himself had not tried hard enough to see her. On the one hand, Lady Stark’s words should not have been enough to prevent him from doing so. But on the other, he had not had the heart to leave Robb alone or by himself with the rest of their mostly crying family while he was awake. So, he had chosen to stay, all the while wondering if something had changed during the time he was gone. And if so—meaning, if Sansa’s feelings for him had changed and she did not care much to see him—what about Robb? Did she not want to see Robb again? Did she not know what had happened to their brother?

Nonetheless—with these thoughts still torturing his mind—it was then, when the bed moved and he saw Ghost leaving Robb’s side that he looked at the door and realized it was open. And not only that; it was Sansa standing there, illuminated by the soft light of the candles, looking at him with wide eyes, while their two direwolves greeted each other happily by her feet. And although it was hard to look away from her face, it did not take long for him to notice the very round shape of her belly.

“Sansa,” he whispered shocked, standing up, before they both moved at the same time—following a moment of silence—and were finally in each other’s arms again.

“Jon,” she whispered back, her voice breaking as she held him tightly to her.

“My love. My sweet girl,” he said then in a low voice, having trouble getting the words out too. “Where were you? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” he asked, while tears started running down his face, finding himself unable to control his feelings any longer.

“I asked Arya to tell them not to. I wanted to tell you myself, and I couldn’t come to you sooner because not many people know. So, I couldn’t let anyone see me,” she confessed, when she pulled back and looked at him again.

“So what? You’ve been hiding out inside our own home? Why can’t people know about this?” he asked, both confused and alarmed. Not understanding why they needed to hide such a beautiful thing. The only good thing that he foresaw happening for them for a very long time.

“It’s not safe. Mother said we can’t let this news reach the wrong ears. It could be dangerous for the baby. We have a lot of enemies. Especially you,” she said, trying to explain, but Jon could still not see the logic in that.

“And Father agreed?”

“Yes. He said it was for the best to keep it a secret at least until you and Robb came back.”

“Well, we’re back. And I don’t want you hiding the fact that you’re pregnant with my child anymore as if it is a shameful thing or be scared in our own home. We’re married. You’re my wife! Now that I’m here, I promise that I won’t let anyone touch you or our baby. I’ll keep you both safe. I’ll protect you. I can’t even tell you how happy this has made me in the midst of all this tragedy and horror,” Jon said and Sansa’s eyes from happy turned sorrowful again as she averted them to look at Robb, lying broken in his bed.

“How is he?” she asked and fresh tears escaped her beautiful blue eyes.

“He is stronger than he looks, but it has not been easy. It was tough when he finally woke up and had no feeling in his legs. He’s having a hard time accepting it, and he has trouble being in the same room with the rest of the family. Your mother and Rickon couldn’t stop crying and he couldn’t stand Father seeing him like this either. So far I seem to be the only one he’s not ashamed to be around. He feels that everyone else pities him. That’s why I didn’t come to find you. I couldn’t leave him…”

“You did the right thing. I’m glad he had you. If it weren’t for you, he’d be dead now. Arya came earlier and told me everything she learned. She heard Jory say how you stopped a White Walker from killing him with your sword,” she said with a proud smile, although her eyes remained sad.

“Your mother has a different opinion. She thinks I crippled him. That somehow it’s my fault. She told me not to try and look for you. She said I’ve already ruined one of her kids,” he confessed, looking guiltily at the floor, before he felt Sansa’s delicate hand turning his face back to her, asking him with her touch to look her in the eyes.

“You did right to stay by Robb’s side, but you should not listen to my mother. She’s mad with grief. She did not mean that. She cannot believe that. You saved him and it’s clear from the way Robb trusts you and wants you and only you by his side. You’re a hero. You’re my hero. And sooner or later my mother will see that,” she said and then pressed her lips to his for the first time in what seemed like eons.

Jon kissed her back and felt fresh tears in his eyes as he rested one hand on her round belly and the other on the back of her neck. “I’m no hero. I was scared the whole time. The things we saw. I was scared about Uncle Ben, then Robb—I thought I’d never get to see you again. I wasn’t brave like the heroes in the stories you like so much.”

“That’s the only way one can be brave. Isn’t that what Father says? You can only show bravery when you have fear in your heart. Out there you faced worse than any of the heroes in the stories we used to read when we were children and you were victorious. You saved our brother and you kept your promise to me and came back and brought him back,” she reassured him, caressing his face.

“I couldn’t find Uncle Ben. I couldn’t save him,” he said, his voice breaking once more.

“It wasn’t your fault, my love. It wasn’t in your hands. Uncle Ben was probably dead before you even went looking for him with Robb,” she said back, still caressing his face and wiping away his tears.

“Sansa, what’s happening—beyond the Wall, it’s terrible. It’s dangerous. But I won’t let it get here. We will fight back and defeat them. I won’t let anything harm you. You have to believe me,” Jon pleaded, his eyes begging her to trust him.

“I believe you. I trust you! If there’s anyone who can protect me and our baby it’s you,” she reassured him again and hugged him, bringing his face to the crook of her neck, while running her fingers through his hair. “Jon,” she added after a moment and Jon pulled back to look at her. “You know who else is here, don’t you?” she asked tentatively.

“I was given Father’s letter at Castle Black and then I saw her earlier, when we were bringing Robb inside.”

“So, you haven’t talked to her yet.”

“There was no time. I’ve been here all day and I imagine she didn’t want to disturb Robb to come find me,” he told her and then moved backwards and away from her until the back of his knees touched the chair he had been sitting on, when Sansa had come earlier, and found himself collapsing on it with a terrible heaviness in his chest.

“How do you feel?” she asked, not reaching for him, probably sensing he needed the space to breathe.

“I don’t know,” he said quickly and then paused, thinking it through. “I was so terrified when I found out she was here. Scared about you and our family, but—”

“But what?”

“She is my family too. I had a lot of time to think about it on our way back.”

“She is, Jon. And I’m so glad you get to have her. That you’ll get to meet someone from your father’s side of the family too.”

“I’ve already met someone.”

“Oh?” Sansa asked confused.

“Maester Aemon. He is a Targaryen and also the Maester at Castle Black. He’s the one who first told me about her and helped our brother heal to the best of his abilities,” he informed her and when he looked at her, she was smiling again.

“Then I’m glad you met him too, and I’m thankful to him for helping save our brother.”

“When we were beyond the Wall, we came upon those dead things one more time, before our expedition north even began,” he said, but Sansa did not speak, waiting for him to go on. “After the fight started, we stabbed them and attacked them with everything we had, but they would not die. Not until I threw a torch of fire at them, and they all caught flames,” he recounted while Sansa kept looking at him puzzled.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

“Because I’m going to ask for her help. For the war against the dead. She has three dragons that could prove pivotal in a fight, when that fight comes to pass. Do you think she would be willing to help? Have you two had a chance to talk? Does she know you’re—?”

“She does. She’s one of the few people who know. And as for your other question. I’m sure she could be persuaded, if you were to convince her about the severity of the situation. Father has told her about what happened, but she’s having a hard time believing it entirely. But you, who were there and saw everything and lived everything first hand could perhaps change her mind and convince her the war against the dead is more important.”

“More important than what? What else could possibly be more important than helping protect our very existence? If these things get south of the Wall, the whole of Westeros could be in peril. We could all perish. The only reason the Freefolk are running scared and we sent ships for them to help them get south is that very danger. Otherwise they would have never asked for our help,” he said, trying to keep his voice down, not wanting to wake Robb up.

“I don’t think she understands what a big deal that is. She’s not from here and she does not understand our history and our relationship with the Wildlings, so she doesn’t fully understand how big of a threat this is. She thinks that taking revenge on Robert Baratheon is more important. She wants the Iron Throne,” she explained and Jon sighed.

“If we don’t defeat the dead, a war with Robert Baratheon would be meaningless. Our lives are more important than a chair.”

“I know, but that’s why she has come here. That’s the war she wants us to join forces for. It’s what she’s asked… among other things,” she whispered the last part, but Jon heard it anyway.

“What else has she asked for?” he asked, getting back on his feet and taking his wife’s hands in his own, while Sansa refused to meet his eyes.

“It’s not important now. Just promise me you’ll be careful with what you agree to when you get the chance to talk to her and ask her this favor. That you’ll think of our family and put it above all else,” she begged and she looked scared.

“Of course, Sansa. I would never agree to anything that would harm our family. You, our baby, and the rest of our siblings are the most important thing in the world to me. I will always put you first. The fact that she’s here and she has my blood doesn’t mean I’ll forget who my true family is. I don’t know what demands she has made of you that has you so scared, but know this one thing. I’ll always put you first and I’ll never let her do anything that would harm us in any way. And when I say us, I mean all of us. I might have grown up a Snow and then found out I was a Targaryen, but I will always be a Stark, and fight for the North and the Starks. I will always be your Jon,” he promised her before he kissed her and Sansa melted into his embrace.

“You must be tired. You should sleep,” she told him after a few moments of kissing.

“No, I have to stay here, in case he wakes up and he needs anything. He can’t move on his own. But you need to rest. Take care of our baby,” he said firmly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands, after looking at Robb still sleeping under a mountain of furs and this time all three direwolves surrounding him on the bed, keeping him safe.

“I will stay. I’m not tired, but you are. I can see it in your eyes. You can barely keep them open. Besides, I need to spend some time with my brother and we shouldn’t leave him alone. I want to be here when he wakes up.”

Jon looked reluctant but he eventually nodded. “I’ll let you stay for now, but you can’t sit all night long in that chair in your condition. Promise me that you’ll go to sleep when you get tired. Call your mother or someone else or even me to look after him. You’ll see him tomorrow,” he reasoned with her and she smiled, hugging him close to her.

“I promise I’ll go to sleep when I get tired. Don’t worry. I would never do anything that would harm our baby,” she reassured him and kissed him. “Now go sleep in our bed,” she ordered.

“Are you sure? Don’t you want to have your own space now that you’re with child?” he asked.

“No, I want to feel safe in your arms every night until our child is born and then every night after that as well,” she said, sounding sure. Jon smiled at her.

“I’ll be there then.”

“I’ll be here,” she said in return and smiled back, before Jon with one last kiss on her lips left the room, leaving Sansa and their three direwolves to look after their brother.

After he reached their bedchambers and removed most of his clothing he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, Sansa’s scent in the sheets helping him into a deep slumber for the first time since he left home to go north.

Chapter Text

Sansa

Sansa was sitting in the armchair next to her beloved brother’s bed while he slept, stroking her belly in soothing circles and thinking about everything that had happened that day. She had missed him so much but even though she was happy and relieved he was back, she also realized that things would be different from now on.

Robb would never be the same as she always remembered him. His life would have to change. He could no longer ride a horse or train in the yard with Jon and the others. He could never play again with their little siblings, running around and chasing them jokingly. He could never lift her up again in his arms and spin her around in the air like he had done so many times in the past. Instead, he would have to be confined in the castle for the rest of his life.

Arya had told her that their father, Maester Luwin, and Jory were already planning on building him a wheelchair that could carry him around Winterfell, like the one Daeron Targaryen had designed for his disabled nephew, but a wheelchair could only get him so far, and Robb would always have to depend on other people to move him from place to place and would never walk again on his own. On that, from what she had gathered, both Maesters—the one in Castle Black and Maester Luwin—seemed to agree.

“Oh, my sweet Robb. How cruel the gods have been,” she said in a quiet voice at the depressing thought, and after a moment watched as all three of the direwolves raised their heads from where they lay on the bed close to Robb’s feet and turned to look at him, making her follow their gaze too.

Her brother was starting to stir awake and Sansa immediately stood up and moved closer to his side. “Sansa?” came Robb’s weak voice when he finally opened his eyes and Tully blue met Tully blue after what seemed like forever.

“Robb?” she said back unsure, hovering over him, not knowing if she should hug him or not, until she saw her brother’s jaw and lower lip begin to tremble. “Robb!” she exclaimed, forgetting her earlier reluctance and swiftly falling in his arms, hugging him close to herself.

“Little sister,” Sansa heard him say again and felt his arms wrapping around her just as tightly. From the way his voice sounded she knew he was crying.

“Shh… it’s alright,” she told him, hiding her face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in and trying to keep her own tears at bay. She remembered Jon saying how their crying family had made Robb feel earlier and although it was difficult not to do the same, especially when listening to him cry himself, she didn’t want to add to his pain. “I’m here. You’re alright,” she promised while sobs racked his body.

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that but eventually Robb’s sobs quieted down and after a few more moments of silence he decided to speak, surprising her.

“You’re with child,” he noted. It wasn’t a question. He could clearly feel her baby bump as they hugged. Sansa pulled back to look at him and sat upright on the bed next to him. His eyes were still puffy and red from all the crying but his tears had since dried up.

“I am,” she confirmed, and both of them turned their gaze on her belly as she cradled it protectively.

Robb looked back up at her face. “Are you happy? Is this something you want?” he asked and seemed hesitant.

The question itself seemed absurd to Sansa. She already loved this child so much, even though it was still unborn. It was part her and part Jon and that was all that mattered to her. Nevertheless, she understood Robb’s reluctance. The circumstances in which this child had been conceived and her delicate age were more than enough reasons for him and the rest of her family to worry.

“It is! I’m happy, I promise,” she reassured him. Robb held her gaze.

“Then I’m happy too,” he stated and a genuine, although still pained, smile spread across his handsome face, before he hesitantly reached with his hand to touch the roundness of her belly.

The moment he made contact, Sansa felt the warmth emanating from his palm and tips of his fingers reach the core of her very being and immediately an idea formed in her mind. It felt so right, like the babe itself had made her think it and not just approved but demanded it.

“If it’s a boy I know what I’ll call him.”

“What is that?” Robb asked, looking up from where he was caressing her belly.

“Robb,” she answered without hesitation and saw her brother’s eyes welling up with tears again.

“I’d really like that,” he said after a moment, trying to compose himself. “It would be an honor to have my first nephew named after me.”

“And so you shall have it,” Sansa promised.

“I missed you so much, little sister,” Robb said then and pulled Sansa again in his arms, hugging her tightly, but this time being careful and aware of her belly.

“You should sleep. You must still be very tired from your journey,” Sansa commented, her face still buried in the crook of his neck. Robb pulled back, dropping his hands in his lap, and looked upset again.

“I don’t know if I can go back to sleep, but you should go. You need to take care of little Robb,” he said, looking down, with a sad smile on his face, already excited about his little nephew carrying his name, but still weighed down by his own predicament.

“Why can’t you sleep?” Sansa asked then, placing her hand on top of his. Her brother seemed reluctant to answer.

“It’s been hard since the incident. Ever since I woke up the first time and became aware of my situation. I lie in bed unable to feel the lower half of my body and often have to check to make sure it’s still there. Most of the time it is just my legs, which I can never feel anymore, but other times my entire body from the waist down becomes numb and it’s really scary. So, I lie awake thinking about it. And now it’s one of those times when I can’t feel anything below my waist,” he confessed.

Sansa felt her heart break upon hearing his words. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay right here with you,” she said determined.

“Sansa, you should rest,” Robb protested.

“Remember when I was seven or eight and Mother and Father said I was too old to be afraid of the storms and seek refuge in their bed anymore? What did you do? Did you let me sleep alone in my bed? In my dark room?”

“No,” Robb said, and smiled sadly again, already understanding where this was going.

“What did you do?”

“I told you to come and sleep in my bed with me. That I would keep you safe. That I would protect you.”

“And you did. So, this is me returning the favor. I will keep you safe from all your bad thoughts and nightmares. I’ll stay by your side for as long as you need me. And as for tonight, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Alright,” he agreed begrudgingly. “As long as you promise me that you will rest too. That you will go to sleep the moment you get tired, regardless of whether I’m still awake or not. Or I’ll have Ghost go and get Jon.” At the sound of his name Ghost raised his head and looked at both of them with obvious puzzlement, slightly turning his head to the right.

Both siblings laughed at this and then Sansa turned her attention back to Robb.

“I promise,” she told him, and with Robb’s nod, she moved the covers and after helping him fully lie down, she too lay next to him and covered the both of them with the furs, the direwolves moving around to accommodate them.

It was hours later of them talking in soft whispers about everything that had happened to them while they had been separated from each other, and long after the candles in the room had melted and Robb’s chambers had been swallowed by darkness that Sansa finally started to fall asleep. But before sleep truly claimed her, she heard her brother whisper a promise to her.

“I will always protect you. No matter what. My legs won’t stop me from doing my duty. I’m your big brother, now and always.”

Then, the world around her faded.

˜*˜

Jon

It was almost a week after their return home and things seemed to be getting worse on all fronts, with Robb being at the center of it all. His brother was still struggling a lot to accept his new reality. At times he became moody or unresponsive, and more often than not he was plagued by nightmares of fighting White Walkers and woke up in a frenzy, asking for his sword to kill them.

For that reason, both he and Sansa had decided to spend as much time with him as was possible and still had not spent a single night in their bed together, but each of them had alternately spent them with Robb. They did not trust him to be alone, in fear of him hurting himself one way or another, and their brother was not in the mood to spend time with anybody else in general, let alone during the hour of the wolf, when most of his nightmares occurred. Not their other siblings, not Theon or Father, and definitely not his mother. Which was one more thing she held against Jon these days. Because not only did Lady Catelyn consider him responsible for Robb’s injury but she also blamed him for her son’s aversion toward her. In reality, it was only because Robb loved her so much that he couldn’t stand the pitying glances she kept giving him and had asked for her to stay away.

Jon had been with him from the beginning; he was his best friend, and knew how to mask his emotions. Similarly, Sansa and Robb had always had a special relationship, and now that she was with child—little Robb, as they had both informed him that first morning when he had returned to find them awake and in high spirits in Robb’s chambers, petting their three direwolves—she was the only one who seemed to bring any kind of joy in their brother’s day-to-day life.

The idea of a little nephew named after him had brought him hope, but the cheerful outlook of that morning had not lasted and his mood had once again soured the moment he realized he was unable to even manage his bodily functions by himself; always needing Jon or one of the guards, when Sansa was around, to help him to his chamber pot, which was no easy task and had them already concocting an alternative solution. It was the same in Castle Black and during their journey back to Winterfell, but the humiliation his brother had felt then was quite different to the one he was feeling now, being back in his home. Robb had always been proud and had always seen himself as the future Lord of Winterfell, but all of it seemed wrong to him now and, as he had confessed to Jon two nights ago, he no longer felt worthy of any of it.

And then there was Daenerys. His dead father’s sister that he still avoided. Spending time with Robb was a necessity, but Jon would be lying if he said he didn’t also use his brother as an excuse to not see her. On the one hand, he simply did not know what to say to her and how to ask what he needed to ask of her. On the other hand, he was afraid of what Daenerys would ask of him herself—Sansa’s warning always present in his mind. It was quite different than talking to Maester Aemon. He and Daenerys were closely related and close in age. And then there was the whole dragon-queen thing and the big army from Essos. There was simply too much at stake. But time was running out and he soon would have to face reality, for the good of his family, the realm, and potentially all of humanity.

The only thing that kept him going these days was his beautiful wife and their child which with every passing day grew bigger and bigger inside her, filling him with pride and a new kind of adoration for the girl who carried it and who only a few moons back was nothing but his half-sister.

“Jon, are you alright?” Sansa’s voice penetrated his thoughts and Jon realized he had been staring at her.

“Yes, sorry. I got distracted.”

“I know exactly what he was thinking about,” Robb said then, a smirk on his face. At least today seemed to be one of the better days. His brother was in a relatively good mood.

“And what is that if you don’t mind my asking?” Jon queried.

“The babe of course. Little Robb.”

“You’re not wrong there,” Jon admitted and they both snickered. Sansa smiled sweetly at him and took ahold of his hand inside her own, while they sat next to their brother’s bed.

“I saw Jory earlier. He said your wheelchair will surely be ready on the morrow. They might even have it ready today if everything goes right. They just have to make sure it is stable and works properly before they give it to you. Are you excited?” she asked then, turning back to Robb, and leaving Jon to contemplate how many more people already knew about her pregnancy since he came back and they jointly decided to be more open about it. For now, though, only with people they trusted.

“Sure,” their brother said simply, but it was clear that his heart was not in it. They were much more excited than he was. If excited was even the right word. More like relieved. At least he wouldn’t be stuck in a bed all day. He could even leave his room if he so wished it. But Jon wasn’t that hopeful. He knew his brother well enough not to expect that to happen any time soon.

“It will be nice. You’ll see,” Sansa reassured him, trying to be positive. Robb attempted a smile in return, however it came out more like a grimace, and Jon and Sansa exchanged worried glances. Nevertheless, neither of them had a chance to ask him about it or try again to comfort him, because soon after Sansa had spoken there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Sansa called, and Jon watched as Robb’s body tensed up. He always seemed to go rigid when other people came into the room apart from him and Sansa, even at the times when it was just their younger siblings. Robb hated having them see him like this, and after learning of Bran’s vision of him in the snow, following the attack, Jon had noticed that he avoided their little brother more than anyone else, even more so than his mother; but Jon couldn’t tell the reason behind it yet; what it was that he was so afraid of. Was he scared of his future and of the possibility of Bran seeing it in another vision? Was that what unnerved him so? Jon just did not know.

In any case, when the door opened it wasn’t their little brother or any of their siblings and family that greeted them, but Daenerys Targaryen; the silver-headed dragon queen and Jon’s own aunt from his actual father’s side of the family, followed by a dark-skinned girl, Jon could only assume was her handmaiden.

“You are standing in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the first of her name, the Unburnt, and Mother of Dragons. The rightful Queen—,” the girl announced before any of them could react or say anything, but was interrupted by Daenerys herself.

“It’s alright, Missandei. That will do,” she said and then looked at Sansa. “Lady Sansa, forgive my intrusion. I hope this isn’t a bad time, but it’s been days since your brother’s arrival at Winterfell and I wanted to formally introduce myself as well as express my sympathies and well wishes,” she stated, sparing Jon nothing but a calculating glance before she quickly turned her gaze to Robb. “Lord Stark, I hope you get better soon so that you might join us in the Great Hall to dine, along with your cousin who has most diligently stood by your side all these days. I’m sure both of you have many interesting tales to share of your journey north of the Wall.”

For a moment there was an awkward silence and Jon knew that the choice of her words was not random. She had figured out that he had been avoiding her by spending his days in Robb’s chambers and she wanted to call him out on it without saying it to his face. Thus, she had finally had enough and decided to come looking for him here, using Robb’s condition and her desire to wish him well as a pretense.

Eventually, it was Robb who spoke. “Thank you, your Grace, but I’m afraid my condition isn’t going to change or get better any time soon. You see I’ve lost all feeling to both my legs and unfortunately it is permanent.”

Robb tried to be brave admitting that and showed no emotion; Daenerys, however, seemed taken aback by his words and could not keep the shock and sadness from showing on her face. She hadn’t known then. At least not the whole truth. She had seen Robb when they had brought him in—although from a distance—but no one had told her how serious his situation was, and now on top of everything else she looked embarrassed.

She had barged into Robb’s chambers expecting to find him recovering from a curable trauma and Jon hiding by his side, avoiding her. And even though she was right about the fact that he hadn’t been ready to face her yet, she hadn’t realized that Jon’s presence here was not just a game of hide and seek but imperative.

“Forgive me, my Lord… I wasn’t aware of the severity of your condition. I haven’t really seen any of the members of your family since you’ve been back—at least not long enough—and now I understand why. They’ve all been dealing with their grief,” she said and seemed sincere in her apology.

“There’s no need to be grieving and most certainly no need to apologize either. As you can see I’m very much alive, although a bit constrained compared to the past. I wish we could have met under different circumstances and that I was healthy enough to show you around Winterfell but alas,” Robb reassured her and seemed to have gained some of his old confidence back. Leave it to Robb to always be the perfect gentleman to all the ladies. Ever since the incident he hadn’t seen him talk like that, not to him or Sansa, or anyone else. He could tell when his brother was putting on a brave face but this was not it. This looked different.

“Jon will have to do it for me,” his brother continued, bringing Jon back to the present. “He knows Winterfell like the back of his hand and I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about. As for dinner, my sister, Sansa, has informed me that my wheelchair will be ready soon, so hopefully it won’t be long before I can join all of you in the Great Hall and share with you our many adventures,” he finished, leaving both him and Sansa staring at his smiling face. Jon was too shocked to even look for Daenerys’ reaction.

“I’m really glad to hear it,” the Targaryen girl said, and Jon could tell she was pleased; her earlier embarrassment long gone. “And if my dear nephew doesn’t mind, I would like to take him up on that offer for a tour of Winterfell. Indeed, we have much to talk about, the two of us, and I can think of no better way to get to know him than seeing the place where he grew up through his own eyes. And since I currently have no castle to show him myself, I’ll return the favor by introducing him to my children,” she proposed, with her gaze firmly back on Jon. Sansa visibly tensed up beside him.

He knew she had no sons or daughters of her own and so the so called “children” could only be one thing; her dragons. Thus, behind her pretenses of wanting to bond with the last living member of her family, Jon understood her proposal for what it really was; a warning, a threat even. She wanted to show him who the true Targaryen was. The rightful heir to the Iron Throne.

“I would love to get to know both you and your children,” Jon replied, rising to her challenge. “I’ll make sure to come find you soon and give you that tour, dear Aunt.” Daenerys nodded satisfied, and before long, she and her handmaiden both were gone, leaving the three of them alone in the room.

“Jon!” Sansa turned to him panicked, a moment later.

“I know, Sans, but it has to be done.”

“He’s right,” Robb agreed, becoming serious once again. His friendly and one could say flirtatious mood from before was nowhere to be seen. So much so that Jon wondered if Robb had fooled him earlier and had indeed only been pretending to be nice to Daenerys. But neither was there any sadness, like he had so often seen in the last few days. The expression on his face said he was all business. Like he had just found a new purpose, and he was unwilling to let himself wallow in any more self-pity.

“We’ve already wasted enough time with my injury. I’m sorry if I blindsided you earlier, Jon, by making that proposal, but she clearly came in here looking for you. Let her think she can manipulate us and frighten us with the threat of her dragons, but we’ll need both them and her army, if—or more correctly when—the dead make their move. I might not be able to walk, but I’ll be damned before I let anyone harm our family. I don’t care if they come from north or south of the Wall. Seven Hells, even Valyria itself. I’ll protect you with my life,” he said, looking determined, and then Jon watched as his wife fell into her brother’s arms sobbing.

As Robb caressed her back comfortingly, the two brothers’ eyes met and Jon nodded. He knew what he had to do.

Chapter Text

Sansa

“Are you sure this is a good idea? What if she orders her dragons to do something to you?” Sansa asked the moment they were both back in their bedchambers, which—these days—was a rare thing. However, after seeing her reaction to Daenerys’ proposal to Jon to show her around Winterfell and for her to introduce him to her dragons, Robb had insisted that they needed to talk about this alone and that he would be fine by himself for a while. Not that he hadn’t claimed that before. Robb didn’t want to be a burden to them. But this time he was right; Jon and her did need to talk about this.

“Do you really think she would harm me? You know her a lot better than I do,” Jon said, taking a seat beside her on their bed. Sansa hesitated.

“No, not really. I mean, she has been very cordial towards me while she’s been here. During the time you were gone, she’d even come to our chambers just to spend time with me and see how I was doing. Moreover, she kept the secret of my pregnancy and even vowed to protect our child when it’s born.”

“Then what is it? Why are you so worried about this?” Jon asked, taking one of her hands inside his own, while she let the other rest on her belly.

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t like the way she cornered you. It was you she was looking for when she came into Robb’s chambers, not him. And Robb is right; the mention of her dragons, her children as she calls them, was a threat. She wants to show you how much more powerful she is than you. She wants you to see who the real Targaryen is.”

“She is the real Targaryen,” Jon stated simply.

“But—”

“Rhaegar Targaryen might have been my father, Sansa, but I have no real connection to that family. And if I ever want to have one, Daenerys may be my only option. She was raised as a Targaryen her whole life and she’s my only living relative aside from Maester Aemon at Castle Black. I don’t want her to be my enemy. I want to show her she can trust me, and if it takes meeting her dragons for her to do that, then so be it. Besides, it’s not just about the two of us or even about Robert Baratheon anymore. We’re going to need her dragons and her army if we are to defend ourselves from the threat that’s coming from the North.”

“I get that. It doesn’t mean I like it though,” Sansa confessed, anxiously caressing her belly. When she looked at Jon, he was smiling at her understandingly.

She knew Jon was right, but the idea of him going anywhere near those dragons still frightened her. She wanted to trust Daenerys, she really did. The two of them had formed something resembling a friendship while she was here; but what if something went wrong? What if even if she had no intention of harming Jon, she couldn’t control her dragons and something terrible happened? Furthermore, she still wasn’t convinced about her real intentions regarding their baby.

“I love that you’re worried about me, but I can take care of myself. In any case, I don’t believe she would be that stupid to try anything while she’s still staying at Winterfell. If I’m being honest, I think she just feels threatened because I’m the last living male of House Targaryen and wants to know what I’m thinking; what my purpose is moving forward. But if I convince her that I have no wish to rule and that I won’t get in her way of claiming the Iron Throne for herself, then she’ll stop treating me as a threat and maybe start seeing me as her family.”

Sansa wanted to believe that, yet she was still uncertain. “Remember when I told you to be careful of what you agreed to when the time came and you asked her for a favor?” she asked then and Jon nodded, a frown forming on his face. “There was a reason I said that,” Sansa admitted but hesitated to continue.

“Go on,” Jon urged her to speak.

“When she came to Winterfell the first time, she made a speech in front of all the family and the lords and ladies who attended. During that speech she made a list of demands.”

“What kind of demands?” he queried suspiciously.

“She wanted us to help her in a war against Robert Baratheon. She said once we defeated him, she would claim the Iron Throne.”

“I already know that—”

“She also said she would grant the North its independence… on two conditions.”

“What are those conditions?” Jon asked and looked very serious, so much so that Sansa was afraid to tell him. Nevertheless, she had to. She couldn’t let him meet with Daenerys without him knowing all the facts.

“One of them was that she wanted you to become King in the North. She said that since you’re both a Targaryen and a Stark, you’re the most suitable person for the position and that you would help keep the two kingdoms—the North and the South that is—in a way united.”

Jon sighed, closing his eyes. Sansa had spent enough time with her husband to know by now that Jon was not interested in becoming a King, regardless of whether it was in the North or in the South.

“What was the other condition?” This one was harder for her to say aloud, and so it took more time for her to confess.

“She… she said that she wanted our firstborn child to be her heir to the Iron Throne,” she blurted out.

“What?!” Jon hissed, alarmed.

“She told us that she can’t have children of her own and that she wanted someone with the Targaryen name and blood to succeed her,” she finished. Jon stared at her, mouth agape with incredulity.

“Our children aren’t going to have the Targaryen name and I’d be damned if I let them become anyone’s pawns. Was she aware you were with child when she said that?”

“I wasn’t really showing then, but, as she told me later, she had figured it out the moment she laid eyes on me. She claimed that she would take them as a ward only when they were old enough and that we could visit whenever we wanted; that I could even go with them if I wanted to.”

“And become her prisoners,” Jon scoffed, and let go of her hand. Getting up, he started pacing the room—reminding her of that time in Father’s solar when she had agreed to marry him—before he stopped again after a moment. “No, absolutely not. I can’t let that happen,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, trying to think or compose himself; Sansa could not tell.

“Do you really think her reasons are this nefarious? That she’s doing it to control us and the North?” she asked, not wanting to believe it, as Jon started pacing again, visibly thinking everything over, calculating all the possible variables. Sansa kept both hands on her belly now, her protective instincts flaring.

“I don’t know. But why else would she bring that up so soon? Why would she phrase it as a condition or even demand it? She’s still too young. Can’t be older than me or Robb, so why would she already be thinking about who succeeds her? She doesn’t even have the throne yet. And why does she want me to become King in the North if not to control me through holding our child prisoner? She knows that the Northerners are never going to accept her as their Queen, so the very best thing is to have a puppet King at her disposal. Plus, by making me King in the North she could be trying to prevent me from wanting to claim the Iron Throne.”

“But you don’t want the Iron Throne.”

“Yes, but she doesn’t know that. Or at least doesn’t believe it. She’s never met me. She doesn’t know the person I am.”

“So what do we do now?” Sansa asked, feeling a lot worse than when they had started the conversation. She had never trusted Daenerys and her motives completely, but she hadn’t thought of all these implications. If Jon was right, things would be a lot harder than she had originally thought.

Jon stopped pacing for a second time, taking a deep breath, and turned to look at her. “I’m going to meet with her just as we planned and judge for myself what she’s truly after,” he told her and Sansa dropped her gaze back on her belly, which she kept caressing nervously, her mind already convinced of the worst.

“My love?” Jon said as he approached her, kneeling in front of her. Taking both of her hands in his, he stopped her anxious movements. “I don’t want you to be afraid. I won’t let anything happen to you or our baby,” he promised as he stared inside her eyes, urging her to believe him.

“Can you say the same about you?” she asked as fear continued to gnaw at her.

“I’ll be fine,” Jon said and smiled. “But I might need a little more courage to go and face those dragons. You think you can help me with that?”

Sansa looked confused at him. “How?” she wondered, and then Jon—mischievous smile still in place—rose to her level and kissed her on the lips.

The kiss didn’t take long to deepen and become heated but before she realized it, it was over and Jon was out of their chambers and on his way to find Daenerys and to eventually meet her dragons.

˜*˜

Jon

Jon stood a few paces behind the silver-haired girl as she took everything in upon reaching the Godswood. He had showed her all he thought of as important around the castle, making a comment here or there, answering general questions about his life growing up in the North with the Starks and asking questions about her own life, growing up in Essos with her brother Viserys, but they now had reached the final place in their tour of Winterfell; a choice made not by accident. The Godswood had always offered him a sense of tranquility and he knew that no one would interrupt them here.

“Winterfell is beautiful, although at times it can look a bit dark and dreary with all that gray on the walls. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Essos—at least where I grew up—is much more colorful, as is the South from what I’ve been told,” Daenerys commented looking around, before her eyes fell on the face carved into the trunk of the Heart tree and walked closer to it, Jon following right behind her.

“You get used to it I suppose,” he said when they reached it. “For me it’s home and it’s all I’ve ever known,” Jon added as she kept staring at the Weirwood tree.

“Do you believe in the Old Gods, Jon?” she asked then, her eyes never leaving the face on the tree.

“I do. They’re the Gods of my Father.”

“Lord Stark, you mean? Your uncle?” Jon did not speak, so she continued. “During our tour I noticed a small sept. Do you have followers of the Faith of the Seven here?” she asked again, this time turning to look at him as he stood beside the lake.

“Lord Stark,” he answered pointedly this time, making her smile knowingly at his tone and reaction, “built it for his wife. She is from the South and believes in the New Gods.”

“Sansa’s mother?” she asked and Jon nodded. “And under which faith were the two of you married?”

“Sansa believes in both the Old Gods and the New, but we were married here. Because this is the faith of the Starks and the North,” Jon explained as Daenerys continued to stare at him.

“And do you value being a Stark a lot, Jon?” she asked then. Jon stared back at her.

“I do. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to be since I was a little boy, carrying the name Snow,” he replied, meaning every word.

“And what did it feel like to learn you’re instead a Targaryen?”

Jon took a deep breath and thought about it for a moment. “Terrible and freeing at the same time. I may have lost my father and siblings, but I finally knew the whole truth and understood where I belonged. My identity is something I’ve struggled with all my life.”

Daenerys started walking towards him, with small calculated steps. “And where do you belong, Jon?” she queried, having come far too close for his comfort. Nevertheless, Jon stood his ground.

“Here,” he stated simply, and Daenerys smiled at him once more before she turned her back to him and moved further away, holding onto her dress as she walked.

“So, being a Targaryen changes nothing for you, then?” she asked as she now watched the serene waters of the lake, seemingly not really caring about his answer. However, Jon could tell by how tensely she carried herself that she did.

“It changes a lot, but not who I view as my family. They’re everything that’s important to me. I would die if it meant protecting any of them,” he said and watched her mulling it over.

“Like your cousin, Robb?” she asked, once again turning her gaze on him. At the mention of Robb Jon felt the usual guilt start gnawing at him.

“We protected each other under difficult circumstances. I just wish I could have done something sooner, before he was stabbed. Robb may be my cousin by blood but he will always be my brother.”

“And Sansa?” Jon felt his heart starting to race upon hearing his wife’s name. “Don’t you see her as your sister anymore? It didn’t take long for you to make her yours and put a babe in her belly.”

“Sansa and I never had a close sibling relationship. We were always distant growing up. And the consummation of our marriage wasn’t something that we decided. It was forced upon us.”

“Forced?” Daenerys asked, raising a brow.

“It was decided that we should have a bedding with witnesses, so we were forced to consummate it that very night in which she also got pregnant. If it were up to us, we would have waited a lot longer. Sansa would have been in a far more appropriate age to bear children and it would have been a lot less awkward between us.”

“But you liked it, didn’t you? Bedding her… Filling her with your seed… Like a true Targaryen,” she commented and Jon looked away guiltily. Under all the trauma, he had enjoyed every second of making love to Sansa and had been sick to his stomach at the realization. Yes, the drinking had helped, but the deep disgust at himself had really helped move things along. It was the first time he had really thought of himself as a Targaryen instead of a Stark.

When he looked back at her, Daenerys laughed at his expression. “You don’t need to hide from me. I’m the only one who’s not going to judge you. I grew up thinking that I was going to marry my brother, Viserys, to keep our Valyrian blood pure, following our House’s tradition. That is until he sold me like a broodmare for an army and a crown. Eventually, he got his crown, but I’m afraid it was not how he imagined it.”

“Did you kill him?” Jon asked then.

“No, but I might as well have. Because I stood there and watched him die in the most horrific way and felt nothing. He had abused me all my life, and during his final moments he had threatened the life of my baby. The first and only baby I’ll ever have,” she said, tears shining in her eyes.

“How did it die?”

“It was born dead and deformed. I never got to hold it in my arms,” she admitted, a tear falling down her cheek. Jon felt her pain at that moment. He could tell that it was something she still carried with her and that it would always torture her.

“How do you know you can’t have any more children?” he queried then. Daenerys looked at him skeptically for a moment.

“The witch who murdered my husband told me,” she answered simply.

“Has it occurred to you she might not have been a reliable source of information?” Daenerys let an involuntary laugh escape her lips upon hearing his question and for a moment they both remained silent. “Why do you want my child and Sansa’s to be your ward and heir? Are you trying to replace your dead child with ours?” he asked then and the silver-haired beauty became serious once more as anger found its way to her eyes.

“I can never replace him, my sweet Rhaego, nor am I trying to. I’m only doing what I think is right for our House. For its survival. I’m not trying to take your child away from you. Whatever you think you know about me, that was never my intention.”

Jon paused at that. Was she telling the truth? He could not tell, and yet she seemed offended at the insinuation, so he decided to let it go for now. “Your son’s name was Rhaego?” he asked.

“Yes. After my brother Rhaegar. And I suppose, your father as well.”

“I’m really sorry for your loss,” he said and meant it.

“Thank you,” she said back and looked surprised, like she wasn’t expecting him to say that.

“I just want you to know that I’m not going to stand in your way if you want to claim the Iron Throne, but this is not my fight or my family’s fight.”

“No? Did Robert Baratheon suddenly stop caring that you exist and decided to let it go and no one told me about it?” she queried sarcastically.

“No, but there is a far more serious danger we’ll need to face first. And that one comes from the North.”

“There is the Wall between you and the Wildlings. Robert Baratheon is way more dangerous and has powerful allies on his side.”

“I’m not talking about the Wildlings.” Daenerys looked incredulously at him.

“You mean the dead? I think I heard two of your men in the Great Hall talking about something like that, but they were mostly whispering so I didn’t get to hear much. You can’t seriously expect me to believe that though. There is no such thing.”

“So, you have three fire-breathing dragons and you believe in witches and witchcraft, but you draw the line at animated corpses and the White Walkers?” The Targaryen girl considered this but said nothing in return, as if she waited for him to continue. At least she was willing to listen.

“There are legends of such creatures in the North, going back thousands of years. Tales of the Long Night and the endless darkness and winter that these things brought about. They were the reason the Wall was built in the first place by one of my ancestors, a Stark; it was never about the Wildlings or Free Folk, as they like to call themselves. It’s how Winterfell took its name, because this is where the final battle was fought; the Children of the Forest and the First Men against the White Walkers. We defeated them and the endless Winter finally fell. They brought the winter, the cold and the darkness. Our House’s words aren’t just a saying; they’re a warning. Because the Starks and the North always knew. Winter is Coming. They just forgot,” Jon finished and continued to watch her for any reaction.

Daenerys kept looking at him without saying anything until suddenly she burst out laughing. Jon was left staring at her speechless. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry,” she said, trying to compose herself. “It’s just… you were so serious when you were delivering this whole spiel. Don’t get me wrong it was a really good and scary story, but you can’t possibly expect me to believe that. If you’re too scared to go to war against the Baratheons, you could have said that. You didn’t need to invent this entire story.”

“It’s not a story. It’s the truth. Our uncle went missing beyond the Wall and we went looking for him. Now he’s probably dead because of those things and my brother lies in bed, having lost all feeling in his legs, because a dead man stabbed him in the back with a knife,” Jon was almost yelling at her now, however Daenerys seemed unfazed, like she didn’t believe a word that came out of his mouth.

“I only believe in things that I can see. The dragons, the witch, are all things that I’ve seen with my own eyes. So, tell you what! Since my dragons are not big or strong enough yet and my army of Unsullied is not large enough to go up against the Baratheons and their allies in an open battle, I’m willing to wait a few moons here in Winterfell until the Baratheons decide to attack us all and you’re forced to fight anyway or you Northerners are convinced to back me up and all of us march south to get our family’s throne back. In the meantime, if you have managed to obtain proof of your allegations, then so be it. I’ll help you. I’m not one to stay out of a fight.”

“So, you’ll help us? If I can prove to you that what I’m saying is true, both your army and your dragons will fight for us!” Jon restated and started feeling hopeful. Daenerys nodded.

“If in the duration of my stay here at Winterfell you actually prove to me that what you’re saying is true, then both my army and my dragons will help. I promise!” she said and as she finished her speech a loud screeching came from the sky. “Speaking of which, I think it’s time for you to meet my children,” she added, smirking.

Jon turned his head skyward in time to watch the three beasts descend upon them. A magnificent yet frightening sight he’d never thought he’d see in his lifetime. Thus, willing his heart to calm down, he prayed to the Old Gods that were watching over him in the Godswood to keep him alive long enough to at least be there for the birth of his child.

Chapter Text

Jon

Being in the presence of the dragons was strange. Jon had heard so many stories growing up, and even though he knew they were true, he could never really imagine what it would be like to actually meet a dragon. He had heard tales of Balerion—also known as the Black Dread—the largest dragon known to man, ridden by Aegon the Conqueror himself. Vhagar, the magnificent dragon of Aegon’s sister-wife Visenya, second in size only to Balerion, which had survived until the so called “Dance of the Dragons”; and Sunfyre the Golden, Aegon II’s dragon, which was said to be the most beautiful dragon to have ever lived.

Now, however, staring at Daenerys’ dragons, those stories felt way too real for Jon’s liking, and reminded him of the actual power the Targaryen girl held over them, and how that power could be used against the dead or—if they were not careful—against the North and their House. It was almost unheard of for a person to control two dragons, let alone three, and watching the silver-haired beauty pet all three of them as they reveled in her attention left no doubt in Jon’s mind that she indeed was in full control of them all.

“So, these are my children,” Daenerys commented after petting them a while longer. The dragons were big enough by now for a person to ride, especially someone small like the Targaryen girl. It hadn’t been the case when Daenerys had first arrived in Winterfell from what he’d been told. The North seemed to make them grow faster or maybe it was the looming threat of the Long Night that forced them to grow so quickly. “This is Drogon, named after my husband, and these are Rhaegal and Viserion, named after my brothers,” she added, placing her hand first on the head of the larger dragon of the three, which had black and red colored scales and wings, and then on the two smaller ones. Rhaegal, the dragon named after his father had green and bronze colored scales and wings that were a mix of yellow and orange, whereas Viserion, the dragon named after Daenerys’ other brother, had cream and gold colored scales, and red-orange wings.

“I thought you didn’t like your brother. Why name a dragon after him?”

“Viserys might have been an idiot, and by the end a brute consumed by madness, but he was still my brother. He was the only family I had for as long as I could remember, and even though the bad memories most of the time outweigh the good, I still have memories of us growing up that I cherish. He wasn’t always as terrible as he was during the last years of his life. He used to be a sweet boy who protected me,” she said, absentmindedly caressing the dragon named after Viserys. It was like she could still see him in the dragon’s eyes, and the irony was not lost on Jon. Viserion now looked relatively innocent receiving his mother’s caresses, despite his size—just like Jon’s uncle used to be as a boy—but he too could become violent and uncontrollable, especially once he grew up more.

“I’m glad you see it that way, and that you can still find solace in those early memories. I don’t know if I could do the same if one of my siblings treated me this way.” Daenerys looked at him carefully, her hand still touching Viserion’s head, as the other two dragons moved playfully around each other behind her.

“I think you could. It’s what we do for family. We often see them or remember them in a better light than we ought to. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t forgive Viserys. I let them kill him in front of me, without even a protest, for daring to threat my child. But once he was gone and he was no longer a threat to me, I made excuses for his behavior in my head. That man at the end wasn’t really my brother. He was consumed by the same madness that had destroyed our father; and when he died, the boy I so dearly loved growing up was finally released from his torture. Now, he gets to roam the skies free in the form of my dragon.”

Jon couldn’t miss the veiled threat in her words. Daenerys was seemingly just talking about her relationship with her brother, but he knew better than that. Although she wanted to appear as someone who deeply cared about family, the Targaryen girl was willing to see past Viserys’ horrible behavior only once he was gone. By her own admission she had watched him die a gruesome death without any remorse. Of course, he couldn’t really blame her for that after what he had done to her. Nevertheless, it still seemed cold-blooded, the way she recalled it, not only because of the words she used but also the expression she wore on her face, remembering that moment. That look on her face showed him that if he were to ever cross her in any way—family or no family—she would have no problem dealing with him in a similar manner.

“Besides, in a way you’ve already done it yourself. If your cousin Arya is to be believed, your other cousin and former sister, Sansa, was always horrible to you, and now here you are married to her and willing to protect her and your baby at all costs,” Daenerys said and smirked. He didn’t like it when she brought Sansa into the conversation. Her motives regarding her and their baby were still unclear to him.

“Arya, as usual, is exaggerating. Her relationship with Sansa hasn’t been the easiest growing up. The two of them have very different interests and their personalities don’t really match, so she always tends to blame her older sister for everything or overdramatize situations when she’s involved. Sansa was never horrible to me, we were just never close, because her mother wouldn’t permit it. In the end, it was for the best. I would never have married her if our relationship as siblings was as close as my relationship with Arya.”

Daenerys smiled at his explanation. “I never had sisters, so I wouldn’t know what such a relationship might be like. Though, growing up alone with Viserys, I often pictured myself having a sister and whenever I did, I always envisioned us being best friends. Being here all these weeks I’ve really enjoyed your wife’s company, so it was hard for me to visualize what your cousin, Arya, described. Sansa, I think, is too much of a lady for such petty behavior.”

“She is,” Jon agreed. He wasn’t going to tell her that Arya was right to an extent, regarding the way Sansa had treated him in the past because of his place in the family. About how he had cried himself to sleep the first time he had heard her refer to him as a bastard. She hadn’t said it to his face, but Jon had heard her say it to Arya, when their little sister had argued that Jon would one day marry the prettiest lady out of all their brothers and Theon because he was the most handsome and kindest of the bunch. In response, Sansa, the very image of her mother, had simply said that Jon wouldn’t marry any lady because he was a bastard and no lady would ever want to marry a bastard.

Turns out she was wrong about all of it. Jon did get to marry the most beautiful lady and in the end she didn’t care he was a bastard. Because whatever Ned Stark claimed about his parents marrying and having proof of Jon’s legitimacy as a Targaryen, Jon would never think of himself as a true Targaryen, but would always view himself as a bastard. His father, Rhaegar, had already been married and had other children, and no document or royal decree would ever change that. Both as a Stark and as a Targaryen, Jon would always come second. His mother would always be the second woman to an already legitimate wife and children. He had accepted that and he was at peace with it. He just hoped that Sansa was as well and she didn’t still see him as something he was not.

“You mentioned Sansa’s mother kept you two apart. Why is that? It doesn’t sound like she did that with any of her other children,” Daenerys commented and she seemed skeptical, her attention firmly back to him. Her dragons had for a while now moved further away from the two of them and were now flying low over the pond in the Godswood, their wings and legs often touching the water. They were truly magnificent.

“I’m sure she tried, but it was hopeless. Robb and I were always thick as thieves and best friends since day one, and whatever she might have told him to convince him otherwise never worked. Arya was always a little she-wolf, running after us and demanding our attention at every chance, not often listening to her mother. As for our other two brothers, well, I guess she eventually gave up and saw no point in trying. The two of them follow Robb in everything he does and Robb is my best friend, so…”

“And why did it work with Sansa, do you think? If she’s not as Arya described her to be.”

“Like you said, Sansa is a lady. She’s not rebellious like Arya, and she always listened to her mother and valued her opinion more than that of the boys’. But mostly I think she didn’t want to upset her. Lady Stark always thought of me as the product of her husband’s infidelity. It wasn’t easy for her having me here, bonding with her trueborn children. Plus, I think she saw me as a threat to them, fearing that because of the love he had for me, Father would eventually let me inherit something that was rightfully theirs.”

Daenerys smiled at him knowingly. “And you will if I have anything to say about it. Once I’m on the Iron Throne, I promised the North its independence on the condition that they make you their King.”

“That will never happen. Even if you take the Iron Throne and you’re still willing to grand the North its independence, the only ones that can have that title are my uncle, Eddard Stark, and after him my cousin, Robb. My other cousins, both girls and boys will inherit any title there is before I do. I’m not going to steal their birthright. I don’t need it and I don’t want it.”

“Sansa is one of those cousins, she’s your wife, and she was born second. Doesn’t she deserve a title? When I’m on the Iron Throne those silly traditions of the boys coming before the girls will cease to exist.”

“Even so, as you said, she was still born after Robb. He is the future Lord of Winterfell and if anyone is to become King in the North, it will be him,” Jon said emphatically and meant every word. Whatever Daenerys thought and even Robb himself, who had lost faith in his abilities after what had happened to him, Jon would never usurp him of his rightful place as the future Lord of Winterfell and even King in the North if it came down to it.

“We shall see,” was Daenerys’ only reply, before she called on her dragons again. Jon watched as they circled the lake one last time and then flew towards them, one after the other landing near them. Drogon was the first to get to the silver-haired girl and lowered his head for her to pet him again and then so did Viserion on her other side. Rhaegal, however, stayed further back, and when Jon looked at him to see what he was doing, he found the dragon staring at him.

˜*˜

Robb

Robb was lying on the bed with Grey Wind at his side, his legs as usual covered by furs. Not so much because he was cold—he had no feeling in his legs—but because most of the time he couldn’t even look at them. He got frustrated when they weren’t covered as he always tried to move, forgetting his condition, and then felt worse when reality finally set in. The only times he did look at them was when he woke up paranoid from a nightmare and wanted to make sure they were still there.

It hadn’t been easy after he was stabbed but he tried to soldier on and accept it for the sake of his family. He couldn’t become a burden to them. They were already dealing with so much and had so many enemies, whether they were people or dead men. Whether they came from the South, the North or the East it made no difference to him. They weren’t Starks and they couldn’t truly trust any of them. Not even the Houses allied to their own. Especially the ones that had already shown their own mistrust by forcing his brother and sister to consummate the marriage in such an archaic way that left them both feeling humiliated. That night was something Robb would never forget or forgive, and even though the North needed to be united more than ever, he was dying to get back at Lord Manderly and the rest of the lords who had demanded the bedding.

Maybe not soon, but the day will come that I make them pay.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. “Robb, it’s me, Maester Luwin, and Jory, can we come in?” Sansa’s voice was heard, and Robb steeled himself for what he already knew was coming. His chair was ready sooner than he had expected. He wasn’t ready to leave his bed or chambers and face the rest of the world yet, and if his wheelchair was here it only meant that he’d soon be out of excuses for wanting to stay hidden.

“Come in,” he answered with trepidation, scratching the back of Grey Wind’s ears. When the door was opened, Sansa was the first to come in, followed by Lady and Ghost who immediately jumped onto his bed, greeting him excitedly. The direwolves had stood by his side as much as Jon and Sansa had, the two of them, along with his own direwolf, pretty much an extension of their masters, always trying to protect him, keep him company, and cheer him up.

Sansa kissed his forehead and brushed his hair back with her fingers. In turn, Robb caressed her belly, greeting what he knew in his heart was his nephew. “Are you ready to try it?” she asked, her hand still caressing his hair.

Robb looked up at her and then at the two other men who stood by the door with his wheelchair. For a moment he froze staring at that thing, not knowing what to say, but then Ghost licked his hand and brought him back to the present and realized that Sansa was still waiting for his answer.

“Where is Jon?” he asked instead. He was hoping that at least he wouldn’t have to do this without him. It was bad enough that Jory—a man Robb had always admired and wanted to resemble—was here and saw him like this, but to have him also carry him to his chair was a whole different level of pathetic.

“He’s with Daenerys at the Godswood,” she replied and paused. “The dragons are there as well. We saw them land there earlier,” Sansa added and Robb’s eyes quickly moved to find his sister’s again. When he did, it was fear he saw there. He had promised himself and he had promised her that he would protect her no matter what; whether his legs worked or not. And now his sister needed him to be there for her and for Jon.

“Let’s get this over with. I have somewhere I need to be,” he told them, motioning Jory to bring the chair forward. If Sansa and the others were surprised by what he said they didn’t show it and instead quickly moved to obey him. His sister and Maester Luwin helped him move to the side of the bed and then Jory carefully picked him up, placing one arm on his back for support and the other under his legs, and carried him to the chair.

Maester Luwin checked his legs and placed his feet on the wheelchair’s footrest, before he looked back up at him. “Is it comfortable, my Lord?” he asked.

“It’ll do. Can I take this outside or does it need an even floor to move?”

“We made it strong enough to take you anywhere you like, my Lord,” Maester Luwin replied and Robb nodded, satisfied.

“Then I need to go to the Godswood.”

“Robb—” Sansa started to argue.

“It’s alright, sister. I just want to show Jon my chair,” he said with a mischievous smile on his face. They all knew this wasn’t the reason he wanted to go. Sansa reached out and clasped his hand, clutching onto it scared. “Can you take me to him?” he asked then, turning to Jory.

“Of course, my Lord,” he agreed, and quickly stepped behind his chair to grab the handles. Sansa still looked worried, so Robb pressed a kiss on the back of her hand still holding his own to reassure her and then let her go.

It was high time he went to Jon. He refused to leave his brother on his own with the dragons more than he had to.

˜*˜

The short trip from his chambers to the Godswood was awkward, but thankfully he didn’t meet any members of his family, just random people working about the castle, whose stares Robb purposely ignored, focused on getting to Jon. The only time he felt like turning back and hiding in his chambers was when his eyes met Jeyne’s. Vayon Poole’s daughter was shocked to see him at first but after her gaze lingered on his wheelchair and then his useless legs, her eyes turned sad. The last thing Robb wanted was to be pitied by her, the girl who not so long ago swooned over him; the steward’s daughter. Robb was a Stark. He was a wolf, and he did not need or want her pity. Thus, turning his gaze away from her, he let Jory lead him to the Godswood and his brother.

Entering the sacred woods of his ancestors the image that greeted him was not what he had expected. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t know what he thought he was going to find. Jon was a brave man, and even at the young age of sixteen Robb knew that he could handle himself. So, it was more for Sansa’s sake that he had decided to come find him, because he didn’t want her to needlessly worry now that she was with child. Nevertheless, even if he was generally optimistic about his brother’s meeting with Daenerys, and he never thought he was ever in any actual danger, he couldn’t help but be a little anxious himself.

Ultimately, he shouldn’t have been. If finding out White Walkers really existed and then fighting them beyond the Wall wasn’t shocking enough, watching his brother be nuzzled affectionately by a dragon truly was.

“Jon?!” he called in disbelief. Both Jon and Daenerys turned to look at him. From the look on their faces it didn’t seem like they believed what was happening either. “What’s going on?”

“Hey, you have your wheelchair,” Jon pointed out and smiled excited, ignoring the dragon-sized question hanging between them. The moment he talked the dragon still nuzzling his chest like a gigantic cat turned to look at Robb as well. If the Targaryen girl was annoyed by the interruption, she hid it well. Even her earlier astonishment watching one of her dragons begin to bond with Jon was now completely gone from her face.

“Lord Stark, it’s good to see you again,” she greeted him, fully composed. A screech was heard from above and Robb turned his head skyward and saw the other two dragons flying overhead. Then, he swiftly turned his attention back to Daenerys and Jon.

“Please call me Robb; and it’s good to see you too,” he said back and then motioned to Jory to bring him closer to the pair and the dragon, before he asked him to leave them. The captain of the guards was stunned for a moment, hesitating to get closer to the beast, but soon complied. Once he was gone, Robb spoke again. “I’m glad this time it’s in the Godswood instead of my bedchambers,” he commented and immediately chastised himself as he watched the girl’s cheeks redden at the implication of her coming uninvited to his chambers. “Not that it was a bad thing that you came to visit me. I’m just glad I have my chair now and I’m not confined to my bed,” he was quick to add. Daenerys smiled sweetly at him, her temporary embarrassment forgotten.

“I’m happy to see you out of your bed too, Robb,” she said back and he could tell it was genuine. Jon looked suspiciously between the two of them. Robb knew that look, so he turned the conversation back to him.

“Jon, do you have something to tell me?” he asked his brother and then pointedly looked at the dragon.

“This is Rhaegal,” Jon said simply as if that explained everything, petting the dragon’s head who remained by his side. “He’s named after my father, I mean—Daenerys’ brother,” he added.

“My dragon seems to have taken a liking to my nephew,” Daenerys commented. “I can’t say this has ever happened before. At least not so fast or so manifestly.”

“Well, Jon is a Targaryen, so there’s that,” Robb remarked and felt his brother’s glare on him. He never liked it when people called him a Targaryen, although it was Jon himself who had called Prince Rhaegar his father earlier.

“I guess that’s true,” she said and turned to look at Jon again. “More proof that the two of us are family. I should take my dragon’s affection as a good omen then and hope that Jon will support me in my attempt to win back the Iron Throne for our House.” The dragon looked between the two of them.

“As long as you remember your own promise to me,” Jon said back and then both looked intently into each other’s eyes.

“I do and I will.”

Robb had no idea what they were talking about.

Chapter Text

Sansa

Sansa was sitting in front of the mirror in her bedchambers brushing her long red hair as she got ready for sleep, contemplating everything that had transpired that day. It had been normal like all the other days this week up until it wasn’t. Her thoughts ran from her and Jon’s time in Robb’s chambers in the morning, keeping him company, to Daenerys’ appearance in said chambers, obviously looking for Jon, followed by her tour of Winterfell in the afternoon by her husband and Jon’s eventual introduction to the silver-head’s dragons.

From the moment Jon had left her in their chambers to go find the Targaryen girl she had been so stressed about all of it that afterwards she wasn’t even able to enjoy Robb finally getting his chair and then also agreeing to use it, leaving his chambers for the first time after days of seclusion; the reason also being that he had only done so to go looking for Jon, who was still with Daenerys and her dragons in the Godswood. In the end, however, she shouldn’t have worried so much. Although, who could blame her? Who could have thought that the dragons not only wouldn’t try to hurt him but one of them would also approach him and start bonding with him? Sansa certainly couldn’t and hadn’t.

What did that mean? Was Jon going to claim him now? Would Daenerys even let him? How would she feel about it and how would she react if he did?

These were the questions crossing her mind one after the other when a hesitant knock on the door put a stop to them and kept them from spiraling. “Sansa? May I come in?” It was Jon.

“Yes, come in,” she answered loudly enough for him to hear her. When her husband entered, she turned to look at him curiously. “You don’t need to knock. These are your chambers too.” Jon looked awkward, still standing close to the double doors that were now closed behind him.

“I know. I just didn’t want to bother you,” he admitted, scratching nervously the back of his neck. Sansa stood up, letting her night rail fall around her loosely, as she approached him.

“Did something else happen? Is everything alright with Daenerys?”

“Yes, of course. Nothing’s changed. I haven’t seen her since the last time you and I were together.”

“I thought you were going to spend the night in Robb’s chambers,” she said then, taking his hand and bringing him further inside their bedchambers, before the two of them reached the armchairs in front of the hearth and sat across from each other.

“I was but Robb insisted that he didn’t need me tonight and that he would be fine on his own. At least the direwolves will keep him company. I’m sure they’ll let us know if something’s wrong.”

“Ghost didn’t want to come with you?” Jon snickered at the question, causing Sansa to frown.

“He didn’t even want to come near me. I think he could smell the dragon on me, so he seemed to purposely ignore me and act like I had somehow betrayed him. Lady too wanted to stay by his side. But if you have need of her, I could go get her,” he offered.

“No, it’s fine. I’d rather she be with Robb. I don’t want him to be alone, even if Grey Wind and Ghost are already in the room. With Lady there I feel like at least a part of me is still with him, watching over him in his sleep.”

“It’s been hard on him but I know he’ll be alright. Robb is strong and resilient,” Jon reassured her, taking ahold of her hand.

“I know,” she agreed and smiled sadly at him. She knew he was right but could not help but be worried about her big brother. It had only been last night that Robb had woken up screaming from a nightmare.

“Sans?” Jon called her name softly as he leaned closer to her, bringing her back to the present. “I promise it will be alright,” he said, kissing her knuckles, his lips lingering on her skin. Sansa felt a sudden nervousness grip her and pulled her hand away from him, abruptly ending his kiss.

“I think we should go to sleep. It’s been a long day and we both need our rest,” she commented and stood up, already moving towards their bed. Even in her haste to get away from him, however, she didn’t miss the way Jon’s face fell at her strange reaction.

“I know we said that we would share rooms from now on but I could go to my old chambers if you want. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable if you’re not ready to share a bed with me. I know it’s been a while since the last time we slept together. I understand.”

“No, Jon. Don’t be silly. We’re man and wife with a babe on the way. We’re not going to sleep in separate beds unless we absolutely have to.”

“If you’re certain,” he said but didn’t sound convinced.

“I am,” she replied, and then, reaching the bed, she offered a simple goodnight which Jon repeated in a quiet voice, almost to himself. Pulling back the covers, she lay down on the left side of the bed and after she fixed the furs back over her, carefully covering her belly, she quickly closed her eyes.

Not long after that she heard Jon moving about the chambers, probably changing his clothes and then blowing out the room’s candles before joining her, but didn’t dare open her eyes, trying to feign sleep. Soon she felt the other side of the bed dip from his weight as he too got comfortable under the furs. Moments passed in silence but Sansa could tell he wasn’t asleep because she could hear his relatively fast and somewhat irregular breathing that was at times accompanied by a heavy sigh.

“Did I do something to offend you?” he asked then out of the blue. So, he knew she wasn’t asleep either. Great! she thought. Sansa let a heavy sigh of her own escape her lips.

“It’s my fault. I don’t know what came over me. We haven’t had a night to ourselves for so long and I got overwhelmed and nervous when you kissed my hand and I just overreacted.”

Jon mulled it over for a moment before he turned on his side to look at her. The redhead quickly mimicked his position. When she looked into his eyes, which were now illuminated only by the soft light of the fire still burning in the hearth, it wasn’t anger or any other negative emotion but confusion she found there.

“Why? I hope you’re not afraid of me. You know I’d never do anything you didn’t want me to. I will never disrespect you or force you to do something you don’t like. Besides, I did more than just kiss your hand this afternoon and you didn’t seem to mind. What changed?” he asked in a mellow voice. Sansa linked the fingers of their hands that previously rested on the bed between them in an attempt to reassure him.

“Of course I’m not afraid. You’re the gentlest man I’ve ever met. I know you’d never force yourself on me or disrespect me. I was just being silly. I think the pregnancy is making me act oddly sometimes. I often find myself getting emotional or overwhelmed without reason and then after a while I’m fine again,” she confessed, and Jon smiled sweetly at her, tightening his hold on her hand.

“So is our babe the one to blame then?” he asked and they both giggled; the idea of their baby making her heart flutter.

“Maybe he got jealous that I was getting all the attention instead of him,” she commented jokingly. Jon smiled again and Sansa thought she would melt from the softness she saw in his eyes as he looked at her.

“So, you’ve decided? You think it’s a boy?”

“I don’t know, but I like the idea of having a little boy that looks like you. Also, it would make Robb happy to have a nephew bearing his name. I don’t want to see him sad. The baby has been the only thing to make him smile since you came back home.”

“I know. He was very excited about it, despite everything,” he agreed, caressing her hand with his thumb, still looking at her with the same soft expression on his face.

“I love you,” she blurted out, the need to say it suddenly overwhelming. Jon stared into her eyes, his own irises now almost eclipsed by the black of his pupils, not saying a word. Instinctively she just nodded and before she knew it, his lips were on hers and both their hands were desperately reaching for the other, as Sansa’s previous fears and apprehensions one by one vanished from her mind.

“Wait!”

It was Jon who pulled back this time. “What’s wrong?” she asked bewildered, already dazed from their kiss, as her left hand held onto his tunic and her right hand stayed buried in his dark curls. He didn’t speak immediately, instead he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, still holding her close, with one hand gripping the back of her shift and the other resting on her collarbone.

“Remember the first time we got together after that day in the glass gardens when we confessed our feelings for each other? When we were trying to keep our love a secret, hiding from the rest of our family to not upset them?” Sansa nodded confused, absentmindedly starting to caress his hair. She had no idea where he was going with this.

“That day I told you that I wanted to take things slow and court you properly, give ourselves an actual chance to get to know each other, since everything in our marriage and our relationship had come about so quickly and our early intimacy was basically forced on us. But then the whole thing with our Uncle and the White Walkers happened, and I never got to actually do that. And not only that, I then came back home to find that you’re already with child,” he said and paused, his hand as well as his eyes moving from her collarbone to her belly.

“When I realized it all I could think about was being with you, holding you and our baby in my arms and never letting go; but now… I don’t know… I feel like we’re moving too fast again just because I let my feelings and urges get the best of me,” he finished, still not meeting her eyes.

“We’ve been married for a short time, it’s true, but all I needed to know about you I already do. The days I spent worrying about you and Robb when you were beyond the Wall looking for our Uncle and then later, when you came back, watching you spend every waking hour by our brother’s side, taught me the kind of man you are. Loyal, courageous, loving. I feel ashamed that I never tried to learn this about you before, when you were just my half-brother, even though we’ve known each other our whole lives. But now I do and to be honest, I don’t need you to try and court me to know you better. I already know your heart. I know the man you are and I couldn’t have asked for a better husband. Even in your absence, every day we spent apart I fell deeper and deeper in love with you,” she confessed before a thought occurred to her and hastily added, “Unless you’re not ready, in which case I don’t want to push you and ask for more than you’re willing to give.”

“Are you kidding? I’m a boy close to seventeen, madly in love with my wife and barely holding it together,” he admitted, finally locking eyes with her. Sansa smiled at him relieved.

“Then I have a favor to ask you.”

“Anything,” he muttered quickly before she could even finish her sentence.

“I want you to make love to me like it’s our first time,” she said softly. Jon looked at her for a moment without saying anything, probably wondering if she really meant it. But when he saw the determination in her eyes, he pulled her closer to him, and rested his forehead against hers.

“It will be our first time—for the both of us—and it’s the only thing I want you to remember. Promise me you’ll let go of all the bad memories. I’m the only one here and this is how it’s always going to be.”

“I promise,” she whispered, just as a tear escaped her eye, wetting the pillow.

Willing herself to let go of her trauma, she was finally ready to give herself to the boy she loved so much. From this point forward this would be the only memory that mattered, a real moment between a husband and a wife.

It would be only her and Jon. Only them.

˜*˜

Jon

The moment their lips touched again, Jon was already lost in her scent and her taste, and with each kiss and each caress he came closer to the ecstasy he had experienced during their first time together before they even got started. Thus, taking charge of the situation, he deliberately slowed down their kisses and soon their earlier frenzied rhythm became sweet and comfortable and sensual. This was the woman of his life, his wife, and there was no one else here to demand that they hurry. So, he was going to take his time and make it good for her. Show her how it should be.

Even though Jon himself didn’t have any more experience than Sansa did, nevertheless, during his long lonely weeks away from Winterfell, he had thought numerous times of all the ways he wanted to be with her once he got to see her again; and although Sansa had never been pregnant in his thoughts and dreams, nothing changed the deep desire he had for her now. If anything the idea that this beautiful girl, this perfect lady, was not only his wife but was also pregnant with his child made his desire grow bigger.

“Jon?” Sansa called his name weakly as he made his way down her body after exposing it to himself by slowly unlacing her shift; kissing first her neck, then her breasts, and finally her precious belly. He could tell she was unsure of what he was doing, but he really wanted to try this. He had thought of it so many times during the long nights away from her and he was certain she was going to like it too.

“Do you trust me?” he asked her then, locking eyes with her, two of his fingers already working their way into her smallclothes. Sansa looked nervous but hesitated for only a second before she nodded, allowing Jon to move further down, remove her last article of clothing, and finally take his place between her open legs.

The moment his tongue touched her center, moving her folds to the side, he felt her tense. Yet not long after that, he heard a moan escape her lips and felt her thighs tighten around his head as if she wanted to keep him there forever, letting him know she was more than alright with this. And perhaps it wasn’t forever, but he did spend a long time tasting the most intimate part of her body until he left her trembling with overstimulation, after bringing her to completion twice.

When he moved up her body again, stopping only to kiss the swell of her belly, he brought his lips back against hers, letting her taste her own juices; the nectar he had enjoyed so much and would never get tired of tasting. Sure, the taste wasn’t amazing or anything special, but it was all Sansa and the reality of their shared experience far exceeded any expectations he had had before, and although his wife was red in the face when he pulled back to look at her—probably from a mixture of embarrassment and passion—he knew she had enjoyed it just as much if not more.

“I want you to ride me,” he whispered to her then, their lips barely touching. Sansa was hesitant again and looked like a fish out of water at his suggestion. “It’s just you and me. You have nothing to fear. I promise.”

“Alright,” the redhead agreed shyly. She was still reluctant in her movements, not used to this type of intimacy, but with Jon’s careful maneuvering she found herself sitting on his lap as he lay back staring into her eyes.

There was nothing shameful about it when he entered her this time. The both of them were more than willing participants and the very sight of her round belly between them solidified the love they had for each other. Unlike last time, their lovemaking was unhurried and neither of them was in pain—be it physically or psychologically—and when, finally, Jon spent himself inside her womb for the second time in his life, there was not a single dubious thought in his mind. This time everything felt right. He was happy and at peace and he could see the same happiness and tranquility reflected in Sansa’s beautiful blue eyes.

“I love you,” she told him again, once they were all cleaned up, lying under the covers.

“And I love you! The both of you,” Jon said back, kissing her head and caressing her belly.

He would remember this moment for the rest of his life.

Chapter Text

Jon

A week later and the rumor of Jon bonding with the dragon named after his father had already spread like wildfire. Everyone in the Keep was talking about it and whenever they saw him out and about they couldn’t hide their interest and curiosity from showing on their faces. It was like they could already see him riding the dragon and although this meant fascination for some of them, it also meant resentment or fear for others. This, coupled with the fact that by now everyone knew of Sansa’s pregnancy, only spelled gossip and trouble for Jon.

For that reason, Jon tried to stay away from the public eye as much as possible and stopped training in the yard as he used to. As an alternative he opted for the Wolfswood just outside Winterfell—where he was right now—always followed by his quiet companion, Ghost, who didn’t appreciate his newfound bond with Rhaegal. After the initial cold shoulder Ghost had given him for coming anywhere near those beasts, he started following him everywhere, like he wanted to prove himself as Jon’s only worthy companion.

“Milord, Lord Stark requests your presence in his solar,” one of the Stark soldiers informed him, still mounted on his horse, the moment Jon put down his sword and turned to look at him. He had heard him galloping from the fort but had paid him no mind until now. He knew it was one of their own and that even in the Wolfswood he was never truly alone for long. The red eyes of his wolf followed the man as if he was annoyed by the interruption and the soldier looked at the direwolf uneasily. The wolves had grown too big to pass as mere dogs anymore and the people who weren’t often in their presence feared them something fiercely.

“Did something happen?” Jon asked.

“A letter, milord, from the Capital,” the soldier offered and Jon felt himself break out in a cold sweat. This letter could only mean trouble.

Was the war in the South over? Was Robert coming North for his head? Jon had to know immediately. Thus, climbing on his own horse that he had left tied on a tree, he followed the man back to Winterfell, Ghost hot on his heels.

˜*˜

The moment he entered his father’s solar, it wasn’t just Ned Stark who greeted him, but his entire family, Daenerys, Sir Jorah, and finally a man he had never seen before. He was definitely not a Northerner; neither was he one of Daenerys’ men. He would have seen him before if he was. No, this man came from the capital and Jon could bet his life he was the one who had brought the letter.

“What happened?” he asked, moving to stand next to Sansa. The way the man looked at them and then his eyes travelled to Sansa’s pregnant belly didn’t go unnoticed by Jon, so he tried to cover her with his body as much as he could without looking outright hostile. “Who is this man?”

“This is Lord Varys, Jon. Master of Whisperers at Robert’s Small Council. He brings news from the Capital and a letter from Jon Arryn,” his father explained as he stood next to the hearth.

“Jon Arryn?”

“Yes. The war is over. The Baratheons and Tyrells utterly crashed the Lannister army in a decisive battle just outside King’s Landing. Tywin Lannister is dead and so is the King’s wife, Cersei, and her firstborn son, Joffrey. They were both executed on Robert’s order. Tywin died in battle before Robert could get his hands on him.”

At the sound of the boy’s name Jon turned to look at Sansa, remembering that once upon a time she pictured herself married to the prince. Now, however, she didn’t look affected by the news. It was a different time and a different Sansa he supposed.

“Is the King planning to come North and attack us now that he’s done with the Lannisters? Is that what the letter says?” Jon asked.

“The King? The Usurper you mean! The man who let himself get played like a fool and ruined our family in the process,” Daenerys said angrily before his father could speak. Robb’s comforting hand on her arm was noticed by more than just Jon. Ser Jorah in particular didn’t seem to appreciate it one bit.

“I don’t understand,” Jon admitted. It was true that the rebellion was based on a lie, but Robert Baratheon couldn’t have possibly known that. He was doing what he thought was right to get back the woman he loved.

“There have been some developments, my lord.” It was Lord Varys who spoke this time. “We did not trust a raven to bring you this information, Lord Arryn and I, while the war was still happening. I learned the news of the war ending while I was already on my way here on an entirely different mission.”

“What was the mission?” Jon asked. He did not like where this was going. Everyone around him remained silent. They already knew, it seemed.

“I discovered the truth about your parentage a while back, but decided to keep it a secret. I could already feel a war brewing in the Seven Kingdoms and I wasn’t willing to be the one to light the fire.”

“Sure you weren’t. How did you find out?”

“I came upon a poor woman looking for work. She had just lost her husband and young son to illness and had been left all alone in the world. When she begged me for work, I told her that I could perhaps find a place for her in the palace; as a cook, a cleaning lady, it did not matter. All I wanted from her was information. To be my eyes and ears in the Keep for the good of the realm. She was excited for the opportunity and was more than willing to do that. I told her that whatever she learned and the fact that she knew me needed to stay between us. In an attempt to convince me she was trustworthy, she decided to tell me a story she did not believe was relevant any longer and could do any harm if it was revealed. Besides, she was only going to tell me, not the entire world, she reasoned, and she trusted me to keep it a secret.”

“Who was that woman?” Jon asked. It was his father who answered this time.

“The midwife who helped bring you into this world. She was one of the few people who knew Rhaegar and Lyanna had a son.”

“So, she just told you. After all this time.”

“She didn’t know what became of you or if you were even still alive. Like I said, she didn’t think it mattered any longer. I, on the other hand, figured out who you were and knew exactly how important and dangerous this information was, so I kept it to myself. Soon, I started looking more into it and my search led me to discover High Septon Maynard’s diary. In it he spoke of the exception he made for Prince Rhaegar when he married him to Lyanna Stark in a secret ceremony in Dorne, making her the Prince’s second wife, following the Targaryen tradition,” Varys explained. Jon and Daenerys exchanged looks.

“Alright. So if you didn’t reveal it, then who did?” Jon asked.

“For the longest time we didn’t know and right after your parentage was revealed, I was worried about a war with the North. One I believed to be unjust. Even with the information I had I couldn’t convince the King that Rhaegar didn’t simply force Lyanna to marry him and that he didn’t rape her. I needed more proof to convince him and stop him from entering this war and doing something he’d regret, like attacking his best friend,” he replied, gesturing towards his father.

“So, I took it upon myself to inform the Hand of the King of something his Grace really needed to hear. His wife’s unfaithfulness with her own twin brother,” he continued. “The Lannisters had for the longest time abused their power, solidifying their place in the Small Council and the Red Keep, and after what Tywin Lannister had ordered the Mountain to do to your half siblings and their mother, princess Elia, I never trusted the man, nor did I trust the boy, Joffrey, who would eventually succeed the King. The boy, may he rest in peace, was cruel while he lived, and everybody in the Keep could see that. I wasn’t going to let him on the throne when there were much more promising options to consider,” he revealed, looking at both Jon and Daenerys. There were things Lord Varys had already shared with his family before Jon showed up, but from Daenerys’ expression now he knew it was the first time he had said this.

“So, you and whoever revealed my parentage like to play games in the shadows and destroy people’s lives on a whim. How honorable of you,” Jon said sarcastically.

“It is true. It is not honor that drives me, my lord, but the good of the realm. The people. They are the ones I’m working for and if I find that a King is unfit to rule, I’ll do everything within my power to prevent it from happening.”

Jon sighed. “You still have not told me who did it.”

“Lord Petyr Baelish; a member of the Small Council, Master of Coin and brothel owner. I believe your mother in law is quite familiar with him, they did grow up together,” he said, turning his eyes towards Lady Catelyn whose body tensed up under his gaze. “So did her sister, Lady Arryn; albeit she proved to be more familiar with him then we had originally thought.”

“What do you mean?” Jon asked, looking perplexed at the man. Although the uneasiness he could feel radiating from Lady Catelyn should have clued him in.

“Lord Arryn discovered Baelish in bed with his wife,” Lord Varys explained. “It was all very dramatic, I’m afraid. Then, Lady Arryn, fearing the worst, claimed it was Baelish who had manipulated her and tried to take advantage of her. To prove her point, she said Baelish had provided her with poison to pour into her husband’s wine, but insisted that she had refused. Jon Arryn did not believe she had no part in it and so, she revealed another one of Baelish’s secrets to get him to trust her again. She revealed it was Baelish who spread the truth of your parentage in an attempt to create chaos in the realm and benefit in the process,” he finished as Jon continued to stare at him.

“And how did he find out?”

“Lord Baelish had informants of his own in the Keep and I’m afraid he found out about the secret meetings I was having with the woman after she started working there as a cleaning lady. He interrogated her and threatened her to learn what she knew and what information she was feeding me. Eventually, she told him. I never knew that until Lady Arryn revealed it. I never even knew such encounter had taken place. At that point the woman was long gone. You see, she disappeared right after her unfortunate meeting with Baelish and I never learned what happened to her. To this day I don’t know the answer to that. I don’t know whether she’s alive and simply ran away because she was intimidated or she’s dead somewhere. Whichever the case I’m deeply saddened by the fact I couldn’t protect her as I had promised her.”

The very thought of people dying because of this secret pained Jon immensely. “So, he just trusted the word of a random woman?” he asked then, trying to hide how much the news had affected him. Sansa was not fooled, however, and immediately reached for his hand, grounding him and giving him much needed support. When he looked at her, she smiled at him sadly. She understood.

“Oh no! He would never leave that to chance. He quickly began to research the topic himself, but his search led him down a different path than my own,” Lord Varys said and paused. “He discovered letters Lyanna Stark had written to her family and Robert himself before and after the Rebellion had started. Before her father and brother had even travelled south to King’s Landing to ask for her back and after they were both killed by the Mad King. As you all know those letters never reached their destination. Instead they were intercepted by none other than Tywin Lannister himself. He was the Hand of the King at the time and when he discovered what the Prince was planning to do, he saw an opportunity. If he let everyone believe that the daughter of the Warden of the North, who was also betrothed to the Lord of Storm’s End, was kidnapped by the Targaryen Prince, then soon everyone would turn against him. Tywin Lannister never much liked the Targaryens but I believe this was also an act of personal revenge. You see King Aerys had previously refused to marry Prince Rhaegar to his daughter Cersei and Tywin was offended by that. Now, he saw an opportunity to get rid of the Targaryens altogether.”

Jon hadn’t realized it, but his eyes had filled with tears. “She wrote letters?” he asked, and felt Sansa squeeze his hand in an attempt to comfort him.

“She did, and now those letters are finally in our hands. I don’t know how Baelish got ahold of them without Lord Tywin knowing or how he found out he had them in the first place, but Lord Arryn forced him to hand them over. Lord Stark has already read them, but perhaps you would like to read them yourself,” Lord Varys replied and then Jon watched as his father opened the first drawer of his desk and pulled out a stack of papers held together by a leather cord.

“I know they’re not addressed to you but I think it will help you understand more about your real parents,” Ned Stark said and handed the papers to Jon. It was the only thing he had from his mother and he knew that he would treasure these letters for the rest of his life.

˜*˜

Dear Ned,

I hope my letter finds you well. I wish I could have contacted you sooner but I was afraid the letter might fall into the wrong hands. It kills me to see you and Robert turn on each other like that. Both of you are like sons to me. I don’t want you to think that I chose Robert over you. The reason I stayed in the Capital was because he needed me more. He’s surrounded by a bunch of vipers here, so I had to stay and protect him. Besides, if there’s any way to make him understand and reconcile with you, I’m the only one he will listen. I know you did what you had to do to protect your family and that you had every reason to fear for his reaction if he were to find out the truth about your nephew. And unfortunately he did in the worst possible way. If only it had come from your lips, perhaps he would be mad at first but eventually he would have understood.

He was hurt when he found out. You know how in love he was with Lyanna. He never got over her and never realized that what he felt for her wasn’t reciprocated. He read the messages from the ravens you sent to the other Houses, but he did not want to believe them. He thought you were lying to protect your nephew. In his mind there’s no way Lyanna married Rhaegar willingly. When he heard of your daughter’s marriage to your nephew he was furious. He said that even now you were insulting him by choosing a bastard born out of rape to be your beautiful and highborn daughter’s husband.

The war has not been kind to his mental health. Slowly but surely he’s been deteriorating. Learning of his wife’s unfaithfulness was the last drop to an already full glass of problems. At least it helped him focus on something other than you and gave us enough time to discover what I think might actually help him see the light.

The letter is already too long and it’s a topic too painful for me to explain how I discovered what I’m about to tell you. The Spider will fill you in. He knows everything about who had them and why and he’s been helping me every step of the way. Along with this letter I’m sending you three letters your sister Lyanna wrote before she died. Two of them date before the death of your father and brother. One is addressed to your father and the other one is addressed to Robert. I only sent you a copy of Robert’s letter, because I needed to keep the original for him. The third letter is addressed to you and it was written after the start of the Rebellion.

Robert needs to stay focused on the war now, but once the war is over and he’s won, which I’m sure with the help of the Tyrells will happen sooner rather than later, I’ll show him the letters and I’ll explain everything to him myself. I’ve made copies of the ones I sent you as well. I think that once he reads her own words he’ll realize he was wrong and he’ll stop chasing after something that was never there to begin with.

P.S. Whatever the Spider tells you, please inform your wife that she does not need to fear for her sister. She’s safe back in the Vale with our son.

Your loving friend,

Jon Arryn

˜*˜

Dear Father,

It is hard for me to write this letter. I know you will be disappointed in me when you learn what I did, but I must assure you it was the only way.

I know you were happy about my betrothal to Robert. He is a close friend to our family and like a brother to Ned. Perhaps you thought that this would be enough for a good marriage. That because he cared for Ned, he would also care for me and be a good and gentle husband to me, who in time I’d grow to love. I wish that was the case. It would be easier that way. The reality, however, is a lot different.

There are two main reasons why a marriage between us would never work. Firstly, although I appreciate Robert for all that he’s done for my brother and for being such a good friend to him, I’m also aware of his reputation. I grew up hearing about it from Ned himself. Robert would always fall in love with this girl and that girl and then when he’d finally get what he wanted from them, a kiss or something more serious, he’d move on and forget all about them, until he’d fall in love again and have another conquest.

I don’t want to be one of those girls. Sooner or later, Robert will realize that he was never really in love with me, he’ll get bored and then he’ll start looking for the next one. Only we’ll be married by then, maybe even have a child or two, and I’ll be left all alone in an unhappy marriage with a husband who couldn’t care less about how I feel. Perhaps at first he’d try to remain faithful or at least hide his unfaithfulness out of respect for Ned, but in the end I have no doubt our marriage would end up in tears.

That’s not the kind of marriage I’ve dreamed of. That’s not what I grew up imagining. It might come as a shock to you because I’ve never acted like a proper lady, always following my brothers around in everything they did, but when I pictured my future it was always like one of those stories where the knight falls in love with the lady and asks for her favor in the tourney and then courts her; he brings her flowers and sings and reads poetry to her. This is the kind of love I want and also my second reason.

I can’t marry Robert because I have already found this love in the face of Prince Rhaegar. I know what you’ll say. He’s a married man, but the truth is his marriage has been over for a long time now. He and Princess Elia were never in love. Theirs was a marriage of convenience. They did their duty by the crown and had children, but both of them remained unhappy in their union. Princess Elia knows of our love and in her declining health has given Rhaegar her permission to be with me. I know it sounds hypocritical, given what I said before about Robert. I could never be that magnanimous and let my husband be with another woman, especially if I myself was suffering from sickness, but Princess Elia grew up with different values in Dorne. To her it’s not so important that her husband loves another, as long as her children take precedence in the line of succession.

We plan to marry. It won’t be easy for people to accept, I know. The Faith of the Seven might react to Rhaegar taking a second wife without annulling his first marriage, but Rhaegar has promised Elia that her place will be secure and that he’d never set her or their children aside. I’m alright with this because I know neither of them loves the other and that if we marry he’ll be faithful to me, because he chose me and he loves me. He’s told me the High Septon has already agreed to it due to his heritage. Rhaegar is following in his ancestor’s footsteps. Like Aegon the Conqueror who wed both of his sisters out of duty but only loved one.

I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me for running away and for not telling you I didn’t want to marry Robert before we got to this point. And I hope you’ll understand and forgive what I’m about to do now with Rhaegar. It was never my intention to lie or hide things from you, but I was afraid you wouldn’t let us; and I love Rhaegar too much to live without him. I want to marry him and have his children. A son or daughter or even both that will carry the name of both Stark and Targaryen and will bring glory to both our great Houses.

Your only daughter,

Lyanna

˜*˜

Dear Robert,

I’m writing this letter with a heavy heart for I know you’ll be hurt by what I’m about to tell you.

I cannot marry you and I’m sorry I didn’t have the courage to say it to your face. This betrothal was never something I wanted despite what my father or brother might have told you. I only accepted it because I thought it was the proper thing to do. I didn’t want to go against my father’s wishes, but I can no longer hide the truth from you and I cannot lie to myself either.

Sooner or later you will find out, so it’s better if it comes from me. I love another and he loves me back. I’ve run away from home and he and I plan to marry in a fortnight. I don’t want to mention his name here because this letter is not about him. It’s about you and I.

I know you must be angry after what I’ve just told you but I want you to really consider what I’m about to ask you. Do you really think we’d have a happy marriage you and I? That you’d be able to let go of your old ways and actually stay faithful to me? I know you think you are in love with me but from my point of view, I’m just another girl in a long line of girls.

What perhaps differentiates me from the rest of your conquests is the fact that I’m the sister of someone you truly love and consider to be your brother. Maybe this was your way to actually become Ned’s family, but you don’t need to share blood to be someone’s family. Sometimes the family we choose is more important, and I know my brother feels the same way for you as you do for him. He loves you as much if not more than our actual brothers. You are his best friend and you’ll always be and I don’t want to be the reason your friendship is ruined, either because I rejected you or because I married you.

I don’t expect my words to be comforting now. I know you’ll be angry and hurt for a while. But maybe in time, you’ll reread this letter and understand what I’m trying to tell you and agree with my words.

Someday, I hope you find someone that makes you happy and loves you back, the way I have.

Farewell,

Lyanna

˜*˜

Dear Ned,

I am heartbroken. Everything that has happened since I left home has been devastating. I never thought my love for Rhaegar would cause all of this. I tried to prevent it. I tried to send letters in time, but after everything that has happened I doubt you ever received them. I haven’t sent one in quite some time. Rhaegar thought it would be too risky for people to know where we are and didn’t want me to send any more after the Rebellion started. But now he is no longer here with me and this letter is my last hope to prevent another tragedy from happening.

Rhaegar and I came to Dorne, not because he kidnapped me or because we were running from Father or from Robert, but because we were hiding from the King. King Aerys did not approve of our marriage and he was enraged with Rhaegar, insulted him and even threatened to put him in a cell beneath the Keep when he told him about me. He was convinced that Rhaegar was plotting against him and was trying to steal his throne. He thought that the only reason he wanted to marry me was because he wanted to ally himself with the North and get rid of him with the help of our people.

But he was wrong. None of his suspicions were true. Rhaegar never plotted against him or about anything. We simply loved each other and wanted to be with one another; and even if he didn’t want to believe it was as simple as that, the King knew of our love. Which is why I don’t understand why he would treat our father and brother the way he did when they came looking for me and wouldn’t just tell them. It definitely wasn’t for Rhaegar’s sake. In fact, maybe it was his way to show his son who had the power. Maybe what I’ve heard people say about him is true. Perhaps he truly is mad. Even so, I’m not blameless in this. I will never forgive myself for what happened to them. I will never forgive myself for starting this mess to begin with.

I was naïve. I thought our love was all that was needed for us to be happy. Nevertheless, looking back now I can see how terribly wrong I was. And yet I don’t know what I’d do differently if I was given another chance. I wish I could have Father and Brandon back but I wouldn’t sacrifice my love for Rhaegar in exchange for their lives because it’s not just about us anymore.

Rhaegar has gone off to fight Robert to protect our family. Our son. He’s going to be here any day now. I know it’s a boy. Rhaegar cried when he had to leave us, fearing I would give birth without him present, but he said he had to go for our boy. This has left me terrified. He is a good warrior, although he despises fighting; but then again so is Robert, and I know Robert is really mad at Rhaegar and that he’ll try to kill him if he sees him. However, if you were to speak to him, explain the truth to him, perhaps he could be convinced against such an act.

I don’t want our son to grow up without a father, and Rhaegar doesn’t deserve to die before meeting our son. He loves him so much, even though he’s not even born yet. Every day since we’ve found out about my pregnancy he has sang to him as if our boy could hear him from the womb and has repeatedly said how special he is going to be when he grows up. Rhaegar told me he has seen it in a dream and he knows it to be true. And I believe him.

I hope to all the gods this letter reaches you this time. You’re the only one who can stop this and if you still have any love for me, you’ll try.

Love,

Lyanna

Chapter Text

Jon

Ned Stark looked at the letter in front of him with an unreadable expression on his face as Jon and Robb exchanged worried looks. However, neither of them dared to speak or asked about the contents of that letter. Jon himself had had enough of reading letters. They only brought him pain and frustration. Finally, the Warden of the North put the scroll down on the table and met their eyes.

“Our ships made it to Hardhome and were able to transfer many Wildlings safely south of the Wall,” was his only comment.

“But…?” Robb asked. There was clearly something their lord father wasn’t telling them.

Ned Stark did not speak for a moment. “They arrived a little too late. By the time our men struck a deal with them, and started helping people onto the boats, they were all attacked by a large force of dead men. The letter also speaks of a small force of White Walkers. They didn’t participate in the fight, but simply seemed to monitor everything from atop their dead horses. There was a leader among them.”

“A leader? How could they tell he was their leader?” asked Jon, speaking for the first time in a while. Ned Stark just stared at him.

“Witnesses say that once everyone that they were able to save was on the boats away from the shores, a White Walker, with what looked like a crown made of ice on his head, approached the edge of the harbor’s pier and, raising his arms, resurrected all the dead around him; this time not as people but as wights.”

“Seven hells,” muttered Robb, but other than that made no further comment.

“Where did you place the Free Folk that were saved?” Jon inquired next. He already knew what they were up against. This changed nothing, as shocking as it might have been to hear such a horrific story.

“Many were given refuge in the towns near the Wall, but I gave an order for whoever wanted to travel further south, to come to Winterfell. Especially the women and children. We can’t be sure how long the Wall is going to last.”

“Good, but it’s not enough. We need more men manning the castles on the Wall. Perhaps some of the Wildlings we saved could assist us in that. This is everyone’s fight now. We should all be able to work together,” Jon suggested.

“That is a good idea. Perhaps, our Wildling guests could assist in that; reaching a deal.”

“I’ll talk to Tormund right away,” Jon said, thinking of the boisterous man, and immediately got up from his seat.

“Jon, before you go. May I talk to you for a moment?” his lord father asked.

Robb looked between the two of them. “I think I’ll go inform Daenerys of the news,” he excused himself and wheeled his chair out of the solar, leaving Jon and Ned alone. Jon was already itching to go.

“We never talked about your mother’s letters.”

“Nor do I want to. For me they change nothing.”

“Nothing?” Ned asked surprised and perhaps a bit hurt by the boy’s reaction.

“Nothing,” Jon insisted. “All it proved was something I already knew to be true. Lyanna Stark was a foolish girl with a head filled with dreams who trusted someone she never should have trusted, and brought about the ruin of the whole seven kingdoms.”

“This is how you view your mother?”

“You think I’m wrong in my assumption?”

“Yes, I do. Lyanna loved your father and did what she thought was best at the time.”

“She loved him?” Jon asked incredulously. “And just because she loved him, you think she had the right to elope with a married man, not caring about the mess that would create? Do you honestly believe that she was right to even trust him? In the end, all my father achieved was to kill off his own family along with my mother. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have survived either.”

“Sometimes the things we do for love—”

“Love? What about the love for her family? Rhaegar’s love for his? For his children?” Jon asked, getting worked up.

“I thought it would be easier for you to understand, now that you’re with Sansa.”

“Don’t you dare compare what we went through to this. I’ve always loved Sansa as a member of my family, but our marriage was one of duty and nothing more. I may have grown to love her as my wife, as you once did with your own wife, but I did not marry her on a whim or because of some silly infatuation. I struggled a lot with my decision and so did she, and it was difficult for both of us. It still is, despite our love for each other. Do I need to remind you of Lady Catelyn’s aversion towards me? She hates that I’m married to her precious daughter and never fails to remind me. She still sees me as nothing but a bastard, and now on top of it she blames me for Robb’s injury; not that I don’t already blame myself for that.”

“You are not responsible for what happened to Robb. It was his decision to travel north of the Wall alongside you. You both did as you were taught. You protected each other and you ended up saving his life. As for your mother, you might be right; it might have been a silly infatuation that started all this, but I don’t think it was. Despite her young age, Lyanna was always levelheaded. I truly believe she loved your father deeply. But most of all, she loved you and wanted you to survive. She would have done anything to keep you safe. Perhaps she could have done certain things differently, but when she learned she was with child, you became her priority. She couldn’t risk anyone finding out and so she remained hidden,” his lord father—his uncle—said. Jon only stared at him, his eyes becoming watery.

“Whatever you might think of your mother, just know this; you were everything to her and she loved you above all else. Her dying wish was for me to protect you and I always will, for as long as I live. For her sake, and for Sansa’s sake and for mine own. You will always be a son to me,” he finished, and Jon felt a tear slide down his face. Quickly, he wiped it away and walked to the door.

“I’ll let Tormund know of our plans,” he said simply, and left the room. He did not have the courage to tell his uncle that it still pained him that he was not his actual son. Even if him being his nephew allowed him to be with Sansa, being Eddard Stark’s son was the only thing he was ever proud of, and as it turned out, it was all a lie. He never was.

˜*˜

Sansa

Sansa was taking a stroll with Ghost and Lady on each side of her when she heard the commotion in the courtyard, close to the smithy. As she neared, she saw no other than her little sister nocking and then releasing an arrow from her bow, hitting the bullseye of one of the targets near the wall.

That wasn’t what had drawn her attention, however. It wasn’t unusual for Arya to do such things. She had never liked any of what she mockingly called “girlish” activities, and instead had always tried to sneak into the boys’ practice and mimic whatever they did. As a result, she had learned how to shoot arrows from a bow, and how to hold a sword—even if it was only a wooden practice sword—frustrating little Bran who could barely do any of it. She was a natural, and after Jon had gifted her her own skinny sword—Needle, as she called it—she had trained hard and had become quite skilled at sword fighting as well, as both Jon and Robb had informed her since their return from the Wall.

But what was different this time was the red-headed girl, standing beside her, giving her instructions. Sansa had never seen her before, but at once she knew that the girl was one of the Wildlings that had escorted Jon and Robb back from the Wall, as the two sides attempted to work together for the first time in centuries.

“Arya?” Sansa called her little sister’s name, drawing closer to the two females. Arya hit another bullseye before she turned to look at her.

“Good job!” exclaimed the Wildling girl from beside her sister.

“What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be in your chambers?” was Arya’s comment upon seeing her. Sansa only looked at her sister, but felt the other girl’s eyes on her all the same. Unconsciously she placed her hands protectively on her belly.

“I was just taking a walk.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit risky?”

“You think anyone would dare harm me in my condition?” she asked and met the wildling girl’s eyes which narrowed upon meeting her own. Ghost and Lady took a step in front of her, covering her body protectively.

“No, but you shouldn’t risk it in any case. Does Jon even know you’re out here?” Arya asked and sounded irritated.

“I don’t need to ask Jon’s permission to leave my chambers, Arya. Besides, I have all the protection I need right here,” she commented, placing each hand on the direwolves’ heads. “Won’t you introduce me to your friend?” she asked then, meeting the other girl’s gaze once again.

Arya started to speak but then the wildling girl interrupted her. “Name’s Ygritte,” she said in a northern accent that was quite heavier than what she was used to. Sansa looked at her up and down, at her untamed hair and her simple tunic and trousers. She no longer wore wildling clothes but these were not much better.

“You should not speak unless spoken to,” Sansa found herself saying, for some reason extremely irritated by the girl’s presence. Arya glared at her upon hearing her words. Sansa could not care less, and let a bit of her old self shine through. She was never insulting to those beneath her but at certain points she had needed to remind certain people that she was not just any girl but the daughter of the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, and as such she was owed respect.

“You asked to know who she was and she answered,” Arya defended her new friend as she continued to glare at her sister.

“No, I asked you to introduce us, but that’s beside the point. Why are you out here, instructing my little sister? Who gave you permission?” Sansa inquired, once again fixing her stare upon the girl.

“You’re the sister-wife, aren’t ya? Did your brother put a babe in your belly after all?” she asked, full of insolence.

“How dare you?” Sansa exclaimed as she felt her face burn red at the insinuation and insult.

“Oh, I met him, north of the Wall. Before we were attacked by the White Walkers. He’s quite charming that one. He seemed embarrassed to admit that he was shackled to you and swore he hadn’t bred you yet. Though, judging by the size of your belly, that was a lie. Unless you had help while he was gone.”

Sansa was about ready to explode when Theon of all people came upon them. “What is going on here?” he asked, standing next to Sansa, and looking curiously from her to Arya, to the wildling girl, and back to Sansa.

“Nothing, milord. Us girls were just having a bit of fun,” Ygritte told him with a smirk on her face. Sansa didn’t dare say a word. She wasn’t about to embarrass herself in front of Theon by telling him what the wildling had just told her.

“Shouldn’t you be at the kitchens, where you were placed? We’ve done a kindness by taking you in. Don’t forget that.”

“I’m a warrior, not a kitchen maid,” the girl retorted.

“Then perhaps you should join your brethren at the Wall. Tormund and the others are preparing as we speak. They leave on the morrow.” His words seemed to surprise her. She hadn’t known. Nor had Sansa for that matter. Something must have happened. “Whatever you choose to do, however, stay away from the ladies. They have no need of your company.”

“Why are they going to the Wall?” asked Arya, suddenly.

“I’m sure Jon or Robb can fill you in. I need to get back inside and prepare for my own travels. I’m leaving for Pyke,” he said and Sansa met his gaze worriedly.

“For Pyke?”

Theon simply nodded. “I’m to speak to my father. Inform him of the situation beyond the Wall. We need all the help we can get.”

“But—”

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her and gave her a small smile that reminded her of his love confession from what seemed like ages ago. “I’ll be back before you know it. Hopefully with more fighting men.”

“I wish you safe travels then,” she said and he nodded his head in thanks before he turned around and left.

“So, is that who put a babe in ya, then?” Ygritte asked and Sansa glared daggers at her, refusing to dignify her question with an answer.

“I’m going back inside. You should be careful of the company you keep, Arya, unless you want people to think you’re like her,” she said to Arya’s angry face and walked away before her sister could respond, Ghost and Lady in tow.

She had thought her and Arya were getting somewhere, but her sister hadn’t tried to defend her once against the wildling’s insults. It wasn’t Arya she was annoyed with, however, but Jon. What that girl had said couldn’t be pure lies. She must have based what she had said on something. So, in order to find that out, she needed to have a talk with her husband and soon.

Chapter Text

Robb

“You’ve been quiet for a while. Is something the matter?” Robb asked the Targaryen beauty, from his seat under the weirwood tree. He had taken a liking to spending his days in the Godswood and his siblings and parents were happy for that. He might not have gone back to his old activities—namely the ones he could still do—but at least he didn’t spend every waking moment in his chambers. Robb had claimed he liked the tranquility; there were not many wandering eyes in the Godswood, but in reality he knew that deep down the reason he chose to spend so much time here was because it was where she was most likely to be, because of her dragons.

“I’m worried about the news you brought me. Everything seems to be moving so fast up in the North, but I can’t help but keep thinking about King’s Landing and what’s going on there. The war between the Baratheons and the Lannisters is over and the usurper is still King, with most of his forces still intact. If I let him recover from the war that just ended, he’ll only become stronger. I can’t let that happen,” Daenerys argued as she watched her two dragons fly over the pond. What he considered in his mind as Jon’s dragon, was not with them.  Nowadays, Rhaegal spent most of his time perching atop the broken tower, when Jon was inside the castle, or flying over the Wolfswood, when his brother trained there. He knew Daenerys had noticed as well, and it was one more of her worries she did not want to voice.

“Robert Baratheon won’t matter if the White Walkers attack us and kill everyone,” he said back and Daenerys turned her furious gaze on him. They were usually civil and cordial with one another, but sometimes her refusal to acknowledge the danger of the army of the dead frustrated him.

“It’s easy for you to say. You’re secure in your position as the next Lord of Winterfell. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. I have fought all my life to get where I am today, to get to this continent even, and still I’m not allowed to focus on what I truly want.”

Robb huffed a bitter laugh. “Secure? You think I’m secure in my position? I’m nothing but an invalid. A cripple. I can’t even defend myself, let alone my family and my people. Besides, aren’t you the one that wanted Jon to become Lord of Winterfell? Well, I agree. He’d be much better at it than me. At least he can still fight.”

At his words the ire was suddenly gone from her eyes and was replaced by something he couldn’t name, before she spoke again. “When I first arrived at Winterfell I made a promise to your people that once I take my place on the Iron Throne I will grand the North its independence. When this is all over I intend to keep that promise as a token of goodwill. Jon was the obvious piece connecting our two families and that is why I then suggested he become King in the North, not Lord of Winterfell. But I have since spoken with him and he insists that he has no desire whatsoever of becoming King. He told me that only the Starks can hold that title and that the title of King could only go to your father or you. He said that your little brothers and sisters would come before him as well and that he would never rob you of your birthright.”

“Well, Jon has always been honorable like that. But even if he doesn’t want the title of Lord of Winterfell or even King in the North—if that’s ever a true option—it doesn’t mean that I should be the one to hold them. Not in my condition. I’d rather one of my little brothers or even my sisters named heir instead of me,” Robb argued, looking at his useless legs as they rested on his chair’s footrest.

He did not look up but he heard her approach all the same, and then her hand was on his knee and she was kneeling in front of him. Thus, he had no choice but to meet her eyes with his own. “Don’t sell yourself short. Just because you can’t walk doesn’t mean you’re not still useful or important. I have not been here long, but from the little I’ve known you I can say with certainty that you would make a wonderful lord. A wonderful king even,” she said, still kneeling right before his chair. If there was a double meaning to her words, he could not tell.

“Lords and kings need heirs and I will never be able to provide the North with any.”

Daenerys narrowed her eyes at him, standing back up. “Is that what you also believe of me? That just because I can’t have children I shouldn’t want the Iron Throne?”

“I never said that,” Robb was quick to defend himself and he really hadn’t. It hadn’t even occurred to him that the Targaryen girl was in a similar position, although for an entirely different reason. He was only thinking about himself and what he had to offer the North and his people.

“Heirs can be named. You could name one of your younger siblings as your heir or even one of your nephews or nieces when you have them. You shouldn’t remove yourself completely from the line of succession just because you can’t have an heir of your own. You’re not weak and I will prove it to you,” she said with determination and before he knew what was happening, she was calling forth her two dragons that up until then had been roaming the skies above the small pond in the Godswood.

When the two dragons saw their mother calling for them they quickly descended and soon were standing in front of them, looking at both of them curiously. “You’ve already met them. Drogon and Viserion. However, one thing I haven’t told you about them is that they’re an excellent judge of character and something they’re definitely not fond of when they meet someone new is weakness. They can smell it on a person; that and fear,” she added and looked at him expectantly.

Robb looked right back and then, interpreting her intention, raised his hand in front of him as if he was reaching for them, beckoning them over. It was Viserion who answered his call first. The cream and gold dragon with the red-orange wings approached him slowly and then scented his hand. Robb did not allow himself to breathe during the exchange, and it was only after it seemed as though he had the dragon’s acceptance and permission that he took the first breath, while his hand finally touched the scales of the dragon. The trust of such a creature was the most incredible thing Robb had ever felt.

In the distance, what could only be Grey Wind—by the sound of it—howled. Something was already changing.

˜*˜

Jon

The sun had set hours ago and by the time Jon sauntered into their chambers Sansa had already eaten supper and was lying in their bed—albeit still awake—with her hands carefully resting on her pregnant belly.

One look from her and Jon knew he was in trouble.

“Sorry I’m late. I had to plan Tormund’s and the rest of the Free Folk’s trip to the Wall and send several ravens to the castles there to forewarn them and inform them of the situation we have found ourselves in. They’re leaving first thing on the morrow,” he said as he started removing his clothes to change for bed.

“I know. Father told me after a conversation I had with Theon. He also told me he sent ravens to the other kingdoms as well. Theon himself is going to Pyke to ask his people for help,” Sansa commented. She sounded a bit cold but Jon did not pay her tone any mind and only hummed in agreement while he began unlacing his boots from his seat on the edge of the bed with his back turned to her.

Once they were removed and he finally looked at her, however, she did not meet his eyes. Instead she kept staring ahead, her jaw set in a way that told him she wasn’t afraid or even just annoyed by his tardiness but actually angry.

“Did something else happen?” he asked her. Sansa only huffed a breath of irritation. “Sans?” he tried again, reaching for her hand. She let him hold it, so that was something at least. “What’s the matter? Have I done something to offend you in some way?”

“Have you?” she asked back, this time meeting his eyes with her icy blue ones.

“Not that I’m aware of. Would you like to tell me so I might try to explain myself and, if need be, apologize?”

“You haven’t talked to me about the new redheaded friend you made beyond the Wall since you’ve been back,” she said simply, confusing him.

“What? Tormund? I’ve talked about him plenty and I wouldn’t call us friends exactly, more like reluctant allies for a common cause,” he explained, but Sansa’s stare did not falter.

“No, not Tormund. Your female redheaded friend. The wildling girl,” she retorted and Jon felt his blood starting to boil.

Closing his eyes, praying for patience, he asked, “What did she do?”

“I see you’re not denying that you know her. I suppose that should satisfy me at least,” Sansa said stubbornly, snatching her hand out of his grasp.

“I don’t know her. I only had a short conversation with her right before we were attacked beyond the Wall. Ask Robb. He was right there by my side. She was nothing but rude, presumptuous, and annoying. I pretty much know nothing about her.”

“Well, she, on the other hand, seems to know a lot about you.”

Jon took ahold of her hand once more. “Sans, please tell me what she did or said to you and I promise I’ll put her in her place or send her away. Was she rude to you?” he asked, caressing her hand with his thumb.

For a while Sansa did not speak. “She was trying to provoke me. I think she has taken a liking to you and because of that she was trying to get a rise out of me.”

“What do you mean by that? Taken a liking to me? She barely even knows me. What did she tell you?” Jon asked, his brows furrowed into a scowl.

“I mean that I think she likes you the way a woman likes a man and for that reason she was being antagonistic towards me. She pretty much insinuated that you were embarrassed by our relationship and our child and that you denied its existence,” Sansa explained and looked as if she was ready for a fight. Jon let out a long sigh, but did not let go of her hand.

“The only reason I denied our child’s existence is because at the time I didn’t know it actually existed. I had to come here to find out you were with child. You know that better than anyone. Furthermore, if I refused to talk to her about us at any point, it was only because I was being dismissive of a stranger’s invasive questions, not because I was embarrassed by our relationship.”

Sansa looked at their joined hands guiltily. “So, you’re not ashamed of us?”

Jon let out a small laugh. “Of course not. How could you think that?” he asked, caressing her hand once more.

“You were—at the beginning. You didn’t want to marry me. You thought it was wrong because I was your sister.”

“You aren’t my sister though, are you? And we were never that close to begin with. I won’t deny I struggled at first with the idea. I refused to accept I wasn’t Father’s son, even if I was always nothing but a bastard. A Snow. Marrying you meant acknowledging that fact. Moreover, I thought you were doing this for the wrong reasons. I thought you only wanted me for what you believed my family name could bring you. And it was nothing that I ever wanted or that I could offer you,” Jon admitted, meeting her eyes once again.

For a while they were both silent. “Jon,” Sansa said reluctantly. “I need to confess something,” she added and paused. Jon waited patiently for her to continue. “What I said back then, that I was willing to marry you in order to protect you, wasn’t a lie. It truly was my main reason for accepting Father’s proposal to wed us. But it wasn’t the only reason. I really did think—I mean I wanted—I thought—”

“You wanted to become Queen,” Jon finished her sentence for her. He was not upset by her admission. He had known from the very first moment. She had pretty much said it outright that day in Father’s solar, while he had been pacing the room, his entire world crumbling around him. But a lot of things had changed since then. They had changed.

“I did. I was naïve. I thought it was my destiny to marry a prince and one day become his queen while he sat on the Iron Throne. However, I soon realized that wasn’t my actual dream. I’ve never really dreamed of ruling or being anything more than what I already am. A lady. All I’ve ever dreamed of was a handsome lord by my side and a big family. Just like Father and Mother. And I think I’m on the right path to achieve just that. I really could not care less if you became King or not. If it’s something that you want, I will support you—of course I will. But if not, I’m happy just the way we are.”

“Are you sure?” he asked her skeptically. He wanted to believe her. He could clearly see that everything they had been through had changed her dramatically, but he felt the need to ask. He would not begrudge Sansa her dream of becoming queen if she still had it, even if he himself was unwilling to fight for his supposed birthright. He never felt worthy of it, and he doubted those feelings would ever go away. And then there was of course Daenerys.

“I’m sure. I just want to be with you and have a family with you,” she promised and then moved forward, placing her hand on the side of his neck, before capturing his lips in a chaste kiss.

“I love you,” Jon murmured against her soft lips, with his palm gently covering her cheek.

“I love you too,” she said back and smiled.

“Promise me that if anything ever changes in the way you feel, you’ll tell me. And if that woman bothers you again, you’ll come find me and let me know.”

“I promise. But Jon, it’s not me that I’m worried about. The only reason I even met her was because she was hanging out with Arya. She was teaching her archery I think. Arya already has trouble accepting us as a couple and I don’t want that woman putting ideas in her head. Will you talk to her? Whatever I say to her she always takes the wrong way.”

“I will, don’t worry. I’ve been meaning to do so for a while anyway. I might as well talk to her on the morrow,” he said and moved to kiss her again. Before he could, however, there was a knock on their chambers’ doors, making them both pull back and look confusedly at each other. It was already too late to be having visitors.

“Come in,” Sansa said in a loud voice, fixing the bedding around her, just as Jon got up from the bed, still for the most part dressed in the day’s clothes.

When the doors finally opened they were surprised to find Bran and Rickon standing there, with both their wolves on each of their sides.

“Boys? Why aren’t you asleep? Did something happen?” Jon asked worried, quickly exchanging a look with Sansa.

“I need to talk to you. It’s about the Three-Eyed Raven,” Bran answered determined, clasping little Rickon’s hand in his own.

Jon could do nothing but stare at them as silence followed his little brother’s words.

What new curse had come for them now?

These days they seemed to never end.

Chapter Text

Sansa

“I think we should tell Father,” Sansa commented, breaking the long silence, and everyone turned to look at her. Following Bran and Rickon’s visit and after hearing what he had to say, Jon had called for Robb and Daenerys to join them, to inform them of their little brother’s newest vision. Now here they all were, gathered in their chambers in the dead of night, standing and pacing about the room in secret.

“No, no one but the people who are currently in this room can know about this,” Bran insisted, with little Rickon right next to him nodding in agreement, as if the little boy understood the severity of the situation in his young age. “If Mother and Father find out, they won’t let us go.”

“Bran, there are certain problems with the vision you just described to us. Lady Catelyn and Father are not the only issue here,” Jon interjected, gaining everyone’s attention.

“Jon is right. For one, the dragons aren’t large enough yet to carry a rider, let alone travel beyond the Wall in search of a cave in the land of permanent winter,” Daenerys said, watching Jon with an unreadable expression on her face. Sansa could only imagine what thoughts were running through the Targaryen girl’s mind after listening to the tale of Bran’s vision. How he had seen both her and Jon carrying him north on the two dragons they were both riders of, Drogon and Rhaegal, in search of the Three-Eyed Raven. Knowing that Rhaegal had started bonding with Jon and hearing that eventually he was destined to become his rider were two completely different things, but Daenerys seemed to be handling it well or at least she pretended to.

“The Three-Eyed Raven showed me, so I’m sure that it will come to pass, like every other vision I’ve had so far. They’ve all come true. Maybe we will have to wait a little while, but I know it will happen,” Bran said back, looking certain of his words.

“I think I speak for everyone when I say that we’ve all noticed the alarming rate with which the dragons have been growing. I don’t know how it was before you came to Westeros, Dany, but at least for the time I’ve been here, they seem to be a different size with every day that passes and I look at them. In one or two moons’ time, they might be large enough to carry a rider or two, in the case of Bran. He’s small enough not to put on too much additional weight on the dragon.”

It was Robb who spoke this time and there was logic in what he was saying. Sansa could see it on everyone’s faces that they agreed with his words. They were all indeed aware of how fast the dragons were growing. They were terrifying creatures and their growing size was hard to miss and go unnoticed, just as the use of Daenerys’ shortened name by her older brother did not go unnoticed by Sansa, or Jon for that matter, if the look they exchanged was anything to go by.

“It’s true. Ever since we’ve landed here, I feel like they’ve been growing faster and faster with each day,” Daenerys agreed, looking at Robb. If she too was taken aback by Robb’s use of the shortened version of her name she didn’t show it. They had been growing closer and closer together, so it might not have been the first time. It might be the case that he had called her ‘Dany’ before.

“Their closeness to the enemy might have forced them to grow. They might feel the impending doom. From the stories I’ve read, dragons are magical creatures, so them operating against nature’s laws is not out of the question. I think the very existence of White Walkers is proof enough of that,” Sansa commented.

“White Walkers!” Daenerys said exasperatedly, rolling her eyes to Jon’s immediate irritation.

“You’re still doubting their existence? After everything you’ve just heard and all we have told you?”

“I honestly don’t know what to think.”

“Well, if we follow Bran’s vision, you might get your proof after all. And then you promised. If we got you the proof, you would fight for us.”

“The deal was for you to bring me proof. Not for me to endanger the very lives of my dragons before I even know what I’m up against,” the silver-haired beauty argued back in anger, as she took a step in front of the hearth towards Jon. The look on her face and the fire burning behind her, suddenly made her appear dangerous. So much more than a beautiful girl. A dragon in human form.

“Well, if you’re right and there are no White Walkers, travelling beyond the Wall should be no problem. There will be no danger whatsoever. But if we are right, and the White Walkers and the army of the dead do exist, then we will have to risk it regardless. I don’t think Bran’s visions should be ignored. There’s a reason he’s having them and the Three-Eyed Raven, whoever he or it is, might be our only answer to survive this upcoming war,” Jon said with clear resolve in his voice.

Daenerys opened her mouth to argue again, but stopped when Robb, rolling his chair closer to her, placed his hand on her arm and she turned to look at him.

This was the reason Sansa had wanted Robb to be a part of this conversation despite Bran’s original argument against it. He had wanted only the two necessary people he had seen in his vision to know, Jon and Daenerys, but he knew Sansa, as Jon’s wife, also had to know—or would eventually be told by Jon no matter what he said—and for some reason the redhead could not grasp, he trusted Rickon not to say anything either. Sansa, however, had argued that Robb needed to know as well and Jon had agreed.

After what had happened to him, she didn’t want him to be in the dark. She wanted him to feel useful to their cause. Besides, she trusted his logical thinking and his diplomatic ability to defuse tense situations such as this. It also helped that he and Daenerys were getting along, something Sansa had also considered and knew would be in their favor if the need arose.

“Dany,” Robb said, meeting the Targaryen girl’s eyes. “Jon is right. We have to do it. All of Bran’s visions have been right so far, right down to my being injured by one of them. We need to use his visions to our advantage. I don’t think they come from the enemy but they’re somehow connected to them,” he added and turned to look at Bran, his hand still lingering on Daenerys’ arm.

“Bran, you said that in your dream, the Three-Eyed Raven told you to go to him; that you would be given answers that he can’t possibly risk getting out; and then showed you how to reach him. Correct?” he asked and Bran nodded. Robb turned to look at all of them then. “I think it might mean Bran’s visions are not safe and that’s why Bran has to meet face to face with the Three-Eyed Raven. Maybe the visions can be intercepted by the enemy and that’s why he’s only showing him necessary information in order to find him and nothing more. The vision he had of me I think was proof of the Three-Eyed Raven’s abilities, but he won’t risk giving us any more until Bran finds him,” he said and then turned his blue eyes back on Daenerys, grasping her arm a little tighter by the looks of it. Jon and Sansa shared a look once more.

“We have to risk it, but that doesn’t mean not taking precautions. We still have some time until Drogon and Rhaegal are ready to make the journey. In the meantime, we will train both you and the dragons, prepare you for whatever might come your way. That includes you too, Jon,” her brother added, this time looking at her husband. “I know you’ve grown closer to Rhaegal and you have formed some sort of bond, but you need to try and truly connect with him, the way Daenerys has with Drogon, and when the time comes, both of you must try to ride them and learn how to fly on their backs,” Robb finished, finally letting go of Daenery’s arm, placing one arm over the other in his lap as he sat on his chair.

Everyone was silent for a while before the Targaryen girl herself spoke, surprising Sansa. “We will do what we must. I will follow my destiny wherever it leads me and if that is indeed beyond the Wall, I will do it. Not just because of some promise I made but because I want to,” she said that last part looking at Jon, and then, after sparing everyone one last glance, exited the room.

Sansa did not know whether she should feel happy or afraid by the turn of events, but one thing was certain. There was no going back now.

˜*˜

Jon

It was late the next morning, after—as it had turned out—an eventful night, when Jon found Arya, just like Sansa had said, training on her archery skills in Winterfell’s courtyard, with the wildling girl, Ygritte, by her side. He had only just returned from escorting Tormund and the rest of the Free Folk staying at Winterfell to Winter Town, before their journey north back to the Wall. From there, Tormund and the rest would gather every one of the Free Folk that had settled around town and the surrounding areas from Winterfell to the Wall and take them to the abandoned castles to guard. The elderly, the children, and any of the women that were unable to fight would of course stay behind. Jon was surprised that Ygritte had chosen to be one of them and not follow north, since from the little he had known her, she seemed to be the fighting type. Tormund himself would eventually go to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.

“You can be quicker than that,” he heard the wildling girl say as he approached. Arya, listening to her instructions did exactly that, and released three arrows one after the other, hitting the bullseye every single time. Ygritte did not congratulate her on her achievement but Jon could see she was pleased by the results of her training.

“Good job with the bow, Arya,” he found himself saying as he reached them. At the sound of his voice Arya turned around smiling, dropped said bow and ran to hug him. The force of the hug’s impact made him almost lose his step and fall backwards and Jon once again smiled at his little sister’s antics, returning the hug by wrapping his arms around her scrawny body.

“Did you see? Did you see how fast I did it?” she asked excited, and Jon nodded his head, before bringing his hand to caress the bird’s nest she called hair. Arya pushed his hand back annoyed. She never liked when he did this. She was always aware of the mess she made of her hair but she didn’t much care to fix it.

“Bran might want to start training himself or he’ll fall too far behind,” he told her then.

“Oh, please. Bran can’t even shoot one arrow straight. He’s so far behind he can’t even see me,” Arya argued and Jon started laughing again. When he looked up, he found Ygritte observing them with a small smile on her face. “I thought that you would have followed the others north,” he told her.

“Don’t worry, princeling. I’m not avoiding the fight. When the time comes and war reaches us, I’ll be at the front lines. I’m not scared to die. But I have a purpose here. People to train. Starting with your little sister,” she said, motioning towards Arya that was still close to his side with a nod of her head. Jon brought his left arm around Arya’s shoulders once again, while his little sister curiously watched the exchange between them.

“I’m glad you found purpose here but there’s no need for you to train Arya. I can do so myself. In fact, we have lessons on sword-fighting already. You’re welcome to teach any other that will have you though. We’ll need capable fighters if and when the war against the dead reaches the North.”

“But I want to train with Ygritte,” Arya protested at his side.

“I’m sure ya know how to swing a sword, princeling, but I doubt you’re as good as I am with a bow and arrow. And for someone as little as your sister, archery skills are important skills to have in a fight. Not all of us are as strong as ya.”

Jon thought about what she said and he realized she was right. War was coming and everyone had to make sacrifices and whatever skills anyone had that could help in any way in the war effort should be put to good use. Sansa would understand the compromise he was about to make, first and foremost for the safety of their little sister but also of Sansa’s own.

“I’ll make you a deal. You can continue training Arya when I’m present and in the meantime, I’ll bring you other people to train, perhaps other women and children, who want to know how to fight for their own protection, to keep you busy,” he offered and Ygritte smiled satisfied and nodded her head in agreement.

“At your service, princeling,” she added and made a fake attempt at a bow.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, we need to go and break our fast with the rest of our family,” he said and started dragging Arya towards the castle again.

“I’ve already—” Arya started to protest.

“Come on, Arya. Our family is waiting for us,” he said and they both knew it was a lie, but Arya stopped arguing and followed him as they made their way back to the castle.

˜*˜

“So, are you going to tell me what that was about?” his little sister asked once they were inside. “Did Sansa put you up to this?” was her next question and Jon, looking around, pulled her aside in an empty corridor so they could speak.

“Arya, enough! I’ve had enough of this!” he yelled at her exasperated. A few of the castle’s servants turned to look at them as they passed by the end of the corridor and then soon left again, carrying on with their work. “I’ve had enough of you always blaming Sansa about everything. You’re not Rickon’s age anymore to be acting like this. I thought that you would be over it by now—my being married to her. By the Old Gods, we’re going to be parents to our own child soon. You can’t keep antagonizing her. Everything is a mess around us, don’t you see? We can’t keep fighting amongst ourselves!”

Arya looked embarrassed by his outburst and didn’t meet his eyes when she said “I’m not antagonizing her. It’s just sometimes she’s being her usual snobby self and she annoys me. I didn’t like the way she treated my friend yesterday, like she was dirt under her pretty shoes.”

“And what about the way your ‘friend’ treated Sansa? The things she told her about our child? The things she insinuated? Do you think your sister deserved that?” he asked and Arya lowered her head once again in shame. “I’m going to tell you something and you’d better pay attention,” he said, lifting Arya’s head by placing his hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“My marriage with Sansa might have started as one of convenience, one of necessity even, but that does not mean that we don’t love each other. If you think I’m trapped in this marriage and I don’t want to be with her and that’s why you’re always attacking her, out of love for me and due to some misplaced feelings of justice and revenge, then you need to stop. Because you should know that I love Sansa with all my heart and being married to her is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Do you understand? We love each other and we are happy together, and if we’re struggling sometimes in this marriage is not due to lack of love or respect for one another, but simply because of everyone else’s meddling,” he confessed and then paused, gathering his thoughts.

“You’re my favorite sister and that is never going to change, because you hold a vastly different place in my heart than Sansa. So, please, I’m asking you; stop making it this difficult for me and her. She doesn’t deserve your ire and your hostility. I know you’ve never had the easiest relationship growing up, but Sansa cares about you and only wants what’s best for you, even if she acts in ways that annoy you sometimes. You’re her little sister and she loves you. Don’t you love her too? Don’t you want what’s best for her?”

Arya’s eyes had become watery during his little speech, but Jon had to tell her. She needed to hear it, to know. They were dealing with too many problems to be having petty fights amongst themselves. “I do love her… and I do want what’s best for her, and if you say that you’re happy together, then I believe you,” his little sister finally said, and Jon felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. But then she continued, “I know it’s not Sansa’s fault. I understand that she is your wife now and she will always be important to you. However, at times I feel like you no longer care about me at all. We used to be close, but now it seems that everyone else is more important to you than me; even that dragon-girl, Daenerys, that Robb seems to be so infatuated with.”

Jon could not help the upward twitch of his lips at the comment about their brother, but soon his smile dropped and he looked at her worriedly. “That’s not true at all. You know how important you are to me. Why would you think otherwise?”

“If it’s not true then why were you all gathered in your chambers last night and no one said anything to me? Even Rickon was there. I saw him leave with Bran. I was taking a walk with Nymeria, when suddenly I heard your chambers’ doors open and saw Daenerys exit. I heard voices, so I hid in the dark and after a while I saw Bran and Rickon and finally Robb leave too. You were all there except for me. What were you all doing in your chambers and why didn’t anyone tell me anything?” Arya asked and looked betrayed.

Jon let out a long frustrated sigh, cursing their stupidity. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, but we never meant to hide anything from you or not include you. It all just happened too suddenly and we didn’t think to wake you or come get you. In fact, it was only Daenerys and myself that were actually meant to be there. Bran had another one of his visions and he needed to tell us because we were in it.”

Arya looked at him with wide eyes, momentarily forgetting all about being left out. “What did he see? What did he tell you?” she asked anxiously.

“I’ll tell you, but not here. Someone could be listening and no one else but us can know. Not even Lady Catelyn and Father,” he told her, looking around to make sure they were still alone. When he turned his eyes back to her she was still watching him, anticipation clear in her eyes. “Before I tell you, however, I want to offer you a chance to prove what you said about Sansa is true. That you care about her and that you will stop antagonizing her.”

“Tell me! I’ll do anything!”

“First I need you to answer something truthfully. Why are you training with Ygritte and want to learn how to swordfight? Is it just because you’re scared about the army of the dead? Or is there more to it?” he asked. Arya was taken aback by his question, but gave him an answer all the same.

“I’ve always wanted to become a knight one day. Sansa used to dream of marrying a prince and becoming queen or whatever, but that has always been my dream. I want to be a fighter.”

“I thought so,” Jon said and smiled at her sweetly. “I don’t know if I can ever make you an actual knight. I’m not a knight myself or the King and it’s not up to me, but I will keep teaching you how to fight with Needle and I will allow your lessons with Ygritte to continue, even when I’m not around, on one condition.”

“What is that?” she asked curious, hope blooming in her eyes.

“When the time comes and you’re ready, you will become Sansa’s sworn shield. My family’s sworn shield. If the dead make it to Winterfell before that, you must promise me that you will stay by her side and you will protect her and our child in whatever way you can; getting her to safety and offering her all the help she needs. You will make sure nothing bad happens to either of you. Because if something happens to you or Sansa, I will never forgive myself,” Jon said and watched as tears started running down his little sister’s face. “You will always have a place by my side, Arya. You will always be a part of my family,” he finished, while Arya continued to stare at him with wide excited eyes at the trust he was showing her.

“I will. I will do it.”

“You have to promise me!”

“I do. I promise. I will keep both of us safe and the baby. And when I’m older and ready, I’ll swear my oath to her or to you. I will guard you and your family with my life,” she promised and then both of them were crying in each other’s embrace.

Jon didn’t know it yet, but this would turn out to be one of the most important decisions of his life.