Sansa sat in her study, looking out at the vast openness of Winterfell, as it was covered in thick snow. She didn't mind the bitter cold nip at her nose as she went to close the window, she had gotten enough fresh air. She had been so lost in thought that she hadn't realized even her lips had begun to sting and go numb. She couldn't control the racing of her heart as she paced, she was not the same little girl she once was… but being back in Winterfell, with Jon reminded her of when she was once young.

'Get close to him, he is weak, he is a man…' Little Finger spoke softly into her ear, the same thing he had been trying to convince her for weeks since Jon had been proclaimed King in the North. Little Finger had a plan, and Sansa wasn't sure how to tell him no. The more she rejected or ignored him, the more he seemed to be around, hovering over her as if watching over stolen property. 'Why should he get the glory? Why should he get to be King in the North? Why not you?" his words would bite at her like frost would warm flesh. 'Get close to him, be his queen…' Peytr would caress her cheek, and before he could kiss her she would turn away as if in deep thought.

'He isn't even the son of Ned Stark,' this had baffled and floored Sansa, such an accusation would ruin Jon. Little Finger began to explain about the knowledge he had been saving for a special occasion. He planned to use it for Robert should the time come he truly needed major leverage to achieve a goal, but he finally knew why he held onto such juicy detail. Sansa tried to deny it, 'but he looks like my father, that is why my mother always hated him…' 'but if only she knew, how much he looks like Lyanna… there is proof in the crypt. Hidden where she was buried. Take him down there, guide him to the statue of his mother, behind the statue in her crypt will be several things to prove it. I have sent for Howland Reed in your name, by the time he arrives Jon should have found what he needs…'

'But if I marry Jon, where does that leave us?' Sansa hated the word but she was not foolish enough to believe Little Finger was going to let her slip away from him, his goal was to seat the Iron throne as King with her as his queen. 'All in good time little dove, I have it all worked out…' Sansa shuttered as she pieced together what that meant. As soon as Jon took the Iron throne from Cersei, he would likely kill Jon. The one thing he always reminded her at the end, 'Get close, but not too close…' he didn't want her to betray him for Jon.

She spent as much time as she could with Jon, helping him with letters from near by villages, setting up a new village for the remainder of Tormund's people the Free Folk… or Wildlings as some Northerners still referred to them. Sansa couldn't help but feel bad for Jon, he never asked for this… he wouldn't be stuck with all this responsibility if it wasn't for her dragging him back there. He went there for her. For her and for Rickon, who now laid in the crypt with those of her family lucky enough to be laid to rest there. She began to think of her mother whose body was never found, Robb's body which was still missing, her father… whose head on a pike haunted her dreams nightly. Before she knew it she found tears streaming down her face, her room so cold that the tears though warm began to freeze. She tried to wipe them as she heard taps at her door.

"Sansa?" Jon asked as he walked in, she closed her eyes letting his voice melt into her. She loved the sound of his voice, it felt safe. She knew from the many nights her and Jon hid in his study in front of the fire talking about the things they had been through, the things they were to face, and the thoughts and fears they had that he was as damaged as her. They both hid their scars the best they could, but at night they knew they could let their guards down and melt into each other's company, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she tried to comfort his worried tone as he rushed to her side, "I was just thinking. It's nothing."

"You know you can divulge anything to me, right?" Jon said burrowing his brows low as he tried to keep a serious face, "Tell me your thoughts…"

"I was just thinking of them… those not laid to rest in our family crypt, Robb, my mother… father," she tried to sound strong, but her breath nearly left her body when he took her into his strong arms and held her. She couldn't help but rub her face against his thick furs feeling the warmth of it was calming.

"Aye, I think of them, and Arya, and Bran," Jon whispered softly, not releasing his grip.

"But at least we've found each other," Sansa added in as he pulled back, his eyes searching hers. She wasn't one for fond words, he knew she felt close to him by the way she spent every night and day beside him, but to hear it was nice. He had hoped she would open and truly mean when she saw him as a Stark, "can we go for a walk?"

"'Aye, anything you want," Jon felt her hand slip into his, her eyes locked on his, and he felt something weird stir inside of him. He quickly shook it off and stood up, taking her arm in his as they exited her room to walk the castle and eventually the grounds.

"Do you mind…" Sansa started but then shook her head, "never mind…"

"No, Sansa, out with it," Jon grabbed her shoulder to turn her so she couldn't hide her face from him. She gave him a look that reminded him of her mother, the kind that was meant to be a warning. She both mesmerized him and agitated him. Her hair glowed like fire against the clean white snow, especially the droplets that melted in her hair, for a moment he found himself desiring to move it from her hair, his eyes dropping to her lips which seemed to burn pink from the cold air nipping at them. Jon quickly cleared his throat and reached for the back of his neck as he looked around trying to avoid any more of those thoughts.

"Well, if you must know, I was wondering if we could perchance visit the family crypt," Sansa said lowering her face so he couldn't see the lie in her eyes. Jon was silent for a moment, but after a small sigh he returned his gaze to his sister.

"Aye, if it would please you, let us walk through the crypt," Jon turned to face the family crypt, Sansa took his arm in hers and smiled at the ground. Not from the reality that her plan was falling into place, but at the way she had noticed how dashing his curls looked pulled back, dark against the snow… he was large and could be intimidating to those who didn't know him, but she had seen the side of Jon rarely seen before he left to take the black. He was kind, he was loyal, and he couldn't refuse Sansa much. She found herself hoping that what Little Finger had said about him being not the son of Eddard Stark, which shocked her… she had been content to see him finally as a brother.

She couldn't deny that she had never seen him as a brother before, she hadn't even seen him as family, she had treated the family dogs better then Jon Snow, the bastard son of her fathers. The shame of the Stark name. But the moment she arrived at the Nights Watch, the moment she walked through those gates and saw the regal handsome Jon Snow Lord Commander of the Nights Watch standing upon his balcony like some King. She couldn't deny that she found him breath taking and handsome, she thought many nights of it and played it off as relief to finally be safe. But the more time they spent together the harder it was for her to see him as the enemy or competition. She saw him as something else, not a brother, but family… a best friend. It was hard for her to pretend like she saw him as the enemy when Little Finger would track her down and whisper in her ear.

She tried to make it clear to him that she didn't share his vision, but he was determined to play her like the pawn he had before. Jon never treated her like that, he had worked harder at making her feel like she was a part of any decisions made in Winterfell. Sansa was the one person he began to rely on the most for advice concerning Winterfell, the rest of it he layered on Ser Davos.

Jon grabbed the torch from the wall as they entered the entrance of the crypt, walking slowly down the steep hill, Sansa clinging to him for balance. They both looked around, realizing how long it truly had been since they were last there. Sansa watched as her breath turned to frost, the light from the torch bouncing off the walls and ruins of statues left behind for hundreds of years. Sansa surprised Jon when she stopped in front of their Aunt Lyanna's crypt.

"Father never talked of her," Jon said staring up at the cold statue.

"I heard that Lyanna was not actually kidnapped, but that she loved Rhaegar, what do you think?" Sansa tried to pry as she looked over at him, recognizing the dark curls that her father spoke of when he talked of his departed sister.

"False tales to save his reputation I am sure," Jon said indifferently, "if it were true… their love brought down a whole lineage."

"I wonder what a love like that would feel like, to know someone would die for you," Sansa stared at the shadows on her aunt's statue, studying it, knowing there was little to no likeness.

"I would die for you," Jon said softly, not realizing what he said, when she looked at him, he quickly responded, "I would die for you or any of my family…"

"Of course," Sansa said biting her lip before looking back at the statue, removing her arm from his as she walked towards the statue, placing a hand on it. Sansa pretended to trip and fall, knocking into some rocks which seemed to have a domino effect, "oh no!"

"Sansa! Are you alright?" he said quickly grabbing her to help her up, but his eyes were found curious by the look on her face as she stared at a wooden box buried under the pile of rocks. Sansa reached out slowly, her hands shaken in disbelief that Peytr had been right.

"Jon," she said softly, the flames of his torch leaving shadows across her stunned face. She tried to pull the box from the rubble, but it was stuck. Jon quickly helped her remove some of the lingering heavy stones before pulling out the box which was the size of a baby, "We should take this back to the study."

"Are you okay?" he asked as she stood up to dust the dirt and residue off, he could see a flash of her knee which showed scrapes and a little blood, "we need to take care of this."

"This first," she said with excitement that seemed refreshing for him. When he would observe her from afar, alone, she was always so solemn, so reserved and wounded. As if she needed to fight her battles on her own, and all he wanted was to fight them for her. But he knew he couldn't, she wouldn't let him even if he could, he could see that she reserved some of her deepest darkest scars for only herself… he couldn't deny he too hid the parts of him he knew would turn anyone away.

Sansa and Jon were back in his study, the warmth of the room starting to roll onto their skin as if to chase away the chill from the snow. Sansa was the first to sit, her eyes on the box, but her hands frozen around it. She looked at Jon who stood in front of the fire, laying his fur coat onto one of the thick chairs to let it warm up and dry as little water droplets rolled off onto the wooden floor. Jon finally caught her eye, curious as to why she looked at him, almost as if waiting his approval. He gave her a weak smile, signaling to move on, and then watched her as she opened the box like a present. He watched her for quite a while as she shuffled through things, her face in awe as she grew speechless. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore and broke the tension, "what is in the box?"

"Letters mostly," Sansa said laying them on the table, "A few small trinkets. Oh my…"

"Sansa?" he asked, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on, and quickly to her side. She held up a large golden ring with a ruby and sapphire, the sigil of a dragon and wolf entwined.

"This is beautiful, look at the detail, a dragon and a wolf entwined," Sansa was breathless as she held the ring into the light, "Jon, this is a box of Lyanna's stuff."

"I can't believe father hid it," Jon said taking the ring from her to examine, a strange sensation of familiarity stirring in his gut.

"Robert was a greedy fool," Sansa said reading through one of the letters, "most of these letters are to father. She wrote him while she was away, he must have brought them back with her body. Father hid them from Robert so he wouldn't figure something out…"

"But what could be so important he would hide It from his best friend and his king?" Jon asked taking one of the letters in his own hands, the fire place lights dancing around the room and along the table, the sun had started to set outside, but they hadn't noticed.

"Because…" Sansa's hand flew to her mouth as everything Little Finger said to her was proven factual, "it appears Aunt Lyanna ran away with Rhaegar Targaryen and married him. Robert wouldn't have allowed that… she wanted to protect everyone, but it appears Robert managed to take things too far as it was."

"This here is a letter to someone else, someone named Aejon," Jon said as his hand trembled, for some reason he could feel they found something important, something like changing, "a letter to a child… her child."

"Jon," Sansa said looking to him, admiring the way the shadows from the fire danced on his handsome face. He glanced over to her and he could see something in her eyes, like she knew something he didn't, "the letter is for you…"

"No, not possible," Jon said dropping the letter, Sansa quickly swooped it up, "I'm the son of Ned Stark and… and…"

"Father never said your mother's name, because it was his sister," Sansa said her eyes scrolling through the letter. She then began to read out loud, "… I know that if you are reading this I must have passed away before knowing you. My sweet child. O how I wish I could know you, I want to hold my son… the one the old lady keeps predicting with the dark curls and dark eyes. She says you will do important things with your life, I only hope to see it. But If you get this letter, then I have not seen any of it. Should my brother find us here, I will ask him to keep you secret, should your father fall in battle and I not live, Ned will take you as his own and protect you from Robert. I asked him to call you Jon, to protect you and to give you the Stark name. But you will be the last Targaryen in the world, I hope that isn't so. It would appear my love has brought down so much pain and suffering, I just don't understand. I know Robert thinks he loves me, and he can't bare the truth I love another… but forgive him as I do for his faults as he is man. Be strong, Aejon, be wise, be kind, and don't let the world tarnish your Targaryen fire fore you are both: Fire and Ice. I hope my brother teaches you well, and loves you as his own. He is a good man, a proud man, and an honorable man. You would be wise to be like him, as I know you will. Know that my every being and fiber is with you wherever you go. Jon, be strong. I hope someday when Ned decides it's time for you to see this, that you understand why your father and I did what we did, and I hope you will forgive us for leaving before you could know us. It wasn't our intentions. May we meet again my beautiful child.

Your ever-loving Mother,

Lyanna."

"I'm not…" Jon was leaning on a chair, his face down hidden under his curls, "I don't belong here."

"Jon, yes you do," Sansa stood up from her chair and was by his side in a flash, her hands on his arm as she tried to coax him to look at her, "you are still a Stark none the less."

"I am still a Bastard, just not Ned Starks Bastard," Jon angrily threw the chair he had been leaning on so that it bounced against the floor before meeting the wall in several pieces. Sansa stepped backwards, her face frozen, trying to hold back the fear his anger mustered in her. Flashbacks of Ramsay when he would visit her chamber made a small squeak escape her lips as she stumbled back, closing her eyes to fight back the memory. The sound she made brought Jon back to reality, turning to see her, he was quickly at her side, his hands on her arms to steady her. He was taken back that she tried to shove him off of her.

"No, no, please," she muttered her eyes pinned tightly shut.

"Sansa, sansa it's me," he said his hands now on her face, trying to bring her back. He could feel her body trembling, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"Jon?" she asked her body trembling as her hands wrapped over his hands which still clung firmly to her face, she slowly opened her eyes, her chest moving in an out as she gasped for air.

"I'm sorry," he said looking into her blue eyes, "I forgot."

"It's not your fault… what he did to me," her lips trembled as she spoke, her eyes stinging from tears trying to escape her eyes.

"I wish I could kill him all over again," Jon's voice broke as he spoke softly, leaning his head against her forehead, "seven hells I'd torture him over and over. I wish I could have protected you from him."

"It's not your fault, Jon, you weren't there," she said closing her eyes again, feeling the warmth of his hands against her cheeks, his forehead against her, warming up her cold pale skin.

"I should have been, I let my watch be my life and because of it I couldn't protect any of you," Jon sighed, surprised when he felt her hands drop from his and wrap around his neck, pulling him close in for an embrace. He smiled softly as his arms moved to wrap around her waist pulling her close.

"You're here now Jon, you brought me home," she said as her face dug into the crevasse of his neck and shoulder blade. His hands began to stroke her hair as he moved side to side, almost as if slow dancing.

"I am here, and I'll never leave you again," he said into her hair, he inhaled deeply enjoying the aroma from her hair, she smelled like honey, vanilla, and lavender with a hint of orange. Her smell was relaxing to him, and he quickly found himself melting into their embrace, thoughts crossing his mind that shouldn't.

"You are still Jon," she said softly into his neck, her breath felt warm and feverish on his skin, he could feel her lips moving against his skin tickling it. He tried hard to not let his thoughts get the best of him, "nothing changes that."

"But I'm not your brother anymore," Jon said still rocking Sansa, their warmth melting them into one. She was the first to slowly pull away, but only enough so she could look up into his eyes.

"You are STILL Jon, you're my Jon," she said softly, he watched her carefully as she said it, "you are still the annoying boy I grew up with who sulked in the back, you are still the same man who didn't turn me away at Castle Black, you are still the same brave Jon who rushed into battle for our home with less men then needed, and you are still the same Jon I call King. Only now, you are more than a Stark, you are the rightful heir to Kings Landing."

"Sansa," he said in shock, she had spoken so slowly and so forcefully it was as if she was already pep talking him into battle. She was fierce and burning like a flame, how could he say no to her, how could anyone be as beautiful as she was.

"It's a lot to take in right now, but perhaps we should let this all settle in while we rest. I know you have so much on your plate as it is, but this doesn't have to be a bad thing. You are still a Stark," she said taking his hands in one of hers and then lifting up a paper in the other, "for the record, you are no Bastard. You are the legitimate son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark-Targaryen. They were married."

"I need a drink," Jon said letting her hand go before sitting down in front of the brandy. She watched him for a moment.

"Goodnight Jon," Sansa said before kissing his cheek, leaving him unsure of what to say. Part one of the plan was accomplished, now she had to move on to phase two… getting Jon to marry her before Little Finger got mad at her.