Okay, bitches.
I got a lot of unnecessary and rude comments from this first chapter, and I honestly will not tolerate any more. If you don't like the story, don't read it. If you feel slighted for being forced (though, how can I force you to do anything?) to read a story you do not like or agree with - imagine how the author must feel to receive spiteful comments. You choose to be a horrible person when you go out of your way to insult a fanficfion author for not writing a story you want.
This is a JonxSansa story, it is fanficfion, it is MY fanfiction, and I don't plan on creating world peace with this fanficfion, either. Stop taking it so seriously, and remember that your opinion is just that - an opinion and not fact.
Okay, for those who are here for the JonxSansa - I'm sorry for that, and let's get to it.
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He rode with Daenerys and their traveling group through the North. Their arrival at White Harbor was met with lukewarm greetings, but that was to be expected. This was not the result Jon had promised before he left, and he was sure disappointment had spread throughout his kingdom.
Daenerys had chosen to forgo her dragons to mount a horse instead, as a show of equality and peace to the Northern people. Tyrion had insisted. So the dragons flew freely overhead, their screeches calling out and shaking the mountains in their path. But as they approached Winterfell, the dragons were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps they had stayed behind with the encampment, Jon hoped.
Their group was small, as Jon had insisted Daenerys did not need to bring an army to Winterfell with them. This was a formal greeting; an introduction of her to the castle that would soon become her home during the fight against the Night King. Once they arrived, then they could discuss their plans. They would go to Castle Black, to defend the Gift from any further movement south. To keep the Night King as far away from Winterfell, his home, his family, and his heart, as he could. This was only a formality.
Brienne and Podrick rode courteously behind him, eagerly awaiting their return back to Winterfell. Brienne had told Jon of Sansa's grace and diplomacy in his absence, and of Arya's excellence with her tiny sword, Needle. Brienne's stories and first-hand accounts had given him a brief moment of happiness in his stressful nights. He missed his sisters terribly. He was just as anxious to return to Winterfell as they were.
The Hound, Sandor Clegane, rode beside them, seemingly reluctant to be there, in his own way. He shifted uncomfortably on his own horse as they drew closer to the castle. He didn't speak much, only murmuring to Beric and Brienne when the conversation grew quiet, gruffly voicing his opinion when he saw fit.
Tyrion has asked Jon several times if he had received a raven from Sansa. When Jon had told him that he had not, Tyrion assured him it was probably because of their quick travel. Ravens can only travel between castles - and they had been moving constantly for several weeks now. Jon wanted to believe him, to agree that it was only a circumstance of the travel that had kept his sister's words from him. But his agony in waiting for her response worried him. He was walking in blind, with the Dragon Queen by his side. He had been dreading this moment for weeks.
Several ravens had been sent ahead of them. News of the alliance. News of hope for help from the South and the Dragon Queen to defeat the Night King. Yet he had received nothing back. Not a word. Not a scroll. Silence.
As he rode up to the fields of his childhood home, flanking Daenerys on her own horse, he suddenly could see why.
There was a welcome party.
Sansa sat on a dove grey horse, her black cape cascading down the horse's back. Her face was still as the party approached. The tension rose in his chest at her watchful eyes. He had not dreaded this moment enough, it seemed. He was not prepared for the cold, distant look on his dear sister's face.
Several Lords waited behind the Lady of Winterfell, sitting atop their own horses with the banners for their houses flapping in the cold winds above them. Arryn, Mormont, Manderly, Cerwyn… he counted them off in his head. Those who had denied him and his sister in the past were now strong behind her. The Lord's had always provoked an insecurity in his bastard blood, but this was different. This wasn't just insecurity. What he felt was fear.
Then he saw her. Arya. Sitting on her own dark chestnut mare. She was so much bigger than when he had last seen her. He wanted to dismount and run the rest of the way to her and hold her in his arms. Arya… But they were not alone.
Daenerys slowed her horse to a stop as they approached the group.
"Greetings," she announced. "How gracious for you to meet us." Though her words were not sweet - they never were - and she measured the air between the two parties cautiously.
"You've traveled very far," Sansa responded, her horse shifting impatiently under her. Her voice did not waver, and it carried loud and clear across the void. "It would be rude of me to not turn you away personally."
Daenerys remained silent. Instead of responding, she slowly turned in her seat to face Jon, a bewildered question in her eyes. He had no answer for her. Tyrion shot Jon a pointed look, knowing all too well the difficulties of siblings.
Jon kicked his horse to trot up level of Daenerys, stopping mere breathes away from his sisters.
"Sansa, I've pledged my loyalty as Warden of the North to Queen Daenerys. That includes Winterfell," he stated. He had said as much in the letter. "If you are angry with me, we can talk privately. But not here."
Sansa regarded him as if he were a stranger. He suddenly felt more alone than he ever had before. Gone was the sweetness she had shown in her compliments. Gone was the young girl from his childhood. What sat before him could very well have been a stone statue in the crypts.
"I'm sure you've pledged much to her…" she responded, quiet enough that the words were only meant for him.
Her accusation stung him like cold steel. "That's enough, Sansa. My word is final."
"Yes," she spoke so softly it was almost a sigh. "You've made your choice." Her words were painfully melancholy. She softened for a moment to steal a glance into his eyes, before dropping her face away and returning to stone.
"We know no King, but the King in the North whose name is Stark." Lyanna Mormont bellowed from her own steed. Her eyes were glowering, stern and furious. Not little Lyanna…
"Perhaps we were mistaken," Lord Royce spoke, and Jon snapped his head towards him. "We didn't need a King - instead we needed a Queen."
"Sansa Stark has protected the Northerners in this Winter," Lord Manderly shouted. "She stayed with her people. She is Eddard Stark's daughter, through and through."
"First the Wildlings, and now a foreign whore," Lord Glover spat, his horse just as wide as he was. "You're not a Northerner. You're anything but."
Jon felt surrounded, like a stag in the center of a hunt. Each declaration another arrow into his heart. How dare they speak to their King this way… He had to calm himself from an outburst. These men had sworn to him not long ago. He had expected outrage at his return but not complete mutiny.
He looked to Sansa for an answer. Surely Sansa would not leave him to the wolves. Yet she avoided his eye.
"You don't understand," he insisted. Surely she would listen to him, her brother. "If I could only explain-"
"You've made a lot of rash decisions of late," Sansa interrupted. If only he had listened to her from the beginning… "And not enough explanations."
"I thought you said they were your family?" Daenerys called from behind him.
"They are," Jon insisted, trying to quiet his restless horse under him. "Arya-" he started, spinning his horse to face her. "Little sister, I've missed you so much…"
Arya seemed to weaken, glancing toward her sister before turning back to Jon. Her eyes lingered on Daenerys before her mouth flattened in a wry frown.
"I missed you too, Jon…" she called back, and his heart knew that she meant it. "But Starks stick together. I know that now. What would Father think?" His heart broke. If only they knew… "You're no kneeler." But he had been kneeling all his life.
"Enough!" Daenerys shouted, and the bickering ceased. She seemed to smile through her fire. "I am your Queen. I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen. I am the true, rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Queen of the Andals and the First Men. I am the Protector of the Seven Kingdoms. The Mother of Dragons. I am Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. The Unburnt. I am the Breaker of Chains. I have come to protect the Seven Kingdoms from the Night King, and you refuse me?"
There was a long silence as Sansa's party shifted amongst themselves, sharing looks of confusion and shock between the Lords. Arya cocked an eyebrow and stifled a laugh. From deep within the group of men, Jon heard a quiet and gruff "for fucks sake." Sansa seemed to be the only one able to keep her composure.
"Breaker of chains?" Sansa repeated. "Forgive me, but it appears you want to put us in chains. To rule the Seven Kingdoms against our wishes. The North is independent. We do not wish to bow to a foreign woman."
Daenerys fumed from her saddle, tightening her jaw as her eyes grew wild. She seemed to struggle holding her anger in as she replied through clenched teeth, "I am as strong and just as any man-"
"You misunderstand me," Sansas words were as sweet as poisoned wine. "I don't doubt you because you are a woman. Men are...untrustworthy. Selfish." Sansa's eyes cut Jon to his core as she sliced him with a glance. "I doubt you because you are a foreigner."
Don't do it… Jon pleaded in his head, gripping the reins of his horse tighter in his fist. She'll kill you. Don't you understand? But Sansa could not know.
"Lady Sansa," Tyrion finally spoke up. "Perhaps considering everything, you could put aside your prejudice and merely listen-"
"Winter is here," Sansa continued. "I care little about your war for the Iron Throne. Take it. But the North will never be yours."
"Your King bowed the knee for your people," Daenerys called out for all the Lords to hear. "Your brother declared for me, and gave me what is rightfully mine in return for my help. You're defying your King?"
Sansa's eyes narrowed and her chin lifted higher in the air. Defiance was in her blood. But this was not the fury of little Joffrey she was against. Jon knew once she and the Lords saw Daenerys' dragons they would not act so confident. They had no idea.
"He is not our King," Lord Royce answered for Sansa. "He does not speak for the North."
"By refusing me, you are in open rebellion," Daenerys snarled, her voice a harsh warning. Jon's blood ran cold. Please no…
"If that is what you want me to say," Sansa replied. "Then so be it. We do not want a war between us, but the North will not kneel. It is not, and will never be, yours."
"Lady Sansa!" Tyrion shouted now. "I implore you!"
The winter winds blew strong behind Sansa and her party, clouding Winterfell in such a strong blanket of snow flurries that it was barely visible to Jon now.
His heart cracked like ice. His blood…His home...Arya...Sansa… What had he done?
"Brienne. Podrick." Sansa called out as her party started to turn away. Brienne kicked her horse hard, and the beast ran quickly to Sansa's side. Podrick, the poor boy, seemed frightened as he followed her, casting Jon a wide eyed glance as he passed him to join the other side.
"Hound?" a curious voice rang out amidst the shuffle. Arya stood in her stirrups, craning her neck to see past the Dragon Queen. Her face was inquisitive, her brow knit together so deep Jon couldn't help but wonder the relation between the two. "Why are you here?"
Everyone turned to look at Sandor, waiting for a response. He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, his eyes darting back and forth quickly as his mouth turned down into a hard frown. There was a deep growl, an angry and guttural sound, before the towering man finally spoke. "Oh, fuck it." And then his horse was galloping to the other party as well.
"I didn't want you to-" Arya started to protest.
"Shut up," he snapped back. His horse fell into step behind Brienne's, and the party left, leaving Jon behind with the Dragon Queen's group.
"Any more surprises?" Daenerys asked the air, turning a wary eye onto her Hand.
Jon was speechless. He had offered the North and his title to Daenerys in agreement of receiving help for the Night King - but somehow having his title taken from him by the very people who crowned him hurt ten times more. He had not expected this.
The way Sansa had looked at him… Arya's words… This was wrong. This was against his plans. They were going to ruin everything. Perhaps he had ruined everything. He had learned the hard way that you don't deny Daenerys Targaryan. He was trying to save them. Couldn't they see? No. How could they? He should have seen this coming.
Daenerys was speaking to him, but he couldn't hear her. Her words were lost to the background of his frantic thoughts.
Sansa...Bran...Arya!
He was not going to lose them.
"What are you doing?" But Daenerys words went unheard, as his horse was already running to meet the other group at the gates, leaving her behind him.
As Jon approached, two guards blocked Jon from Sansa, threateningly pulling their swords from their sheaths in warning. His horse reared back, frightened, but Jon ignored it. "Sansa!" he called through the guards.
Sansa's blue eyes quickly turned back, and instantly she yelled, "Put your weapons down!" The guards obeyed, and Jon saw a glimmer of hope. "He's still my brother," she chastised. "It's alright. Leave us," she said, turning her horse from the group. Brienne stayed back, cautiously watching as Sansa approached him away from the group.
"Don't do this," he pleaded as soon as she was close enough to whisper. Once she was sure they were alone, her stony face melted, as he saw his sweet, broken sister once again. She worried her bottom lip, and her eyes searched his.
"I didn't want this," she said. "But the North did. They see you as a traitor."
"Do you?" he asked.
Her eyes fell from his, and he could feel her heart breaking as if it were his own. She didn't answer. What had he done?
"Sansa, please, I beg you. Don't do this. You don't know what she's capable of." His voice cracked with fear. For the first time in months he felt truly afraid. Afraid of what was to happen. Afraid of losing his family. Afraid for Sansa.
Her head picked up as his tone. She searched his eyes desperately. He was supposed to be the strong one. For a moment he hoped she was listening to him - truly listening. She seemed to hesitate and weaken at his plea, but she swallowed back her true response for a regal one.
"It doesn't matter. If I kneel, then the North will do the same to me, Jon. You don't understand - I have no other choice."
Her words resounded loudly in his head. I didn't want this. I have no choice. Guilt crashed over him as he realized she was right. He had done this to her. He had put her in a position to choose family or duty. He thought he was only sacrificing himself with his choices - but he had taken her down with him.
"You've made your choice. Go to the Wall. Do whatever you need to do. I promise you, the North will not interfere." If Jon's heart was not too busy breaking, he would have been proud to hear Sansa speak so queenly. It seemed to suit her well. "And I will help you against the Night King. But the North will never kneel. The Lords have made it rather clear, that they would rather fall on their own swords than bow to a foreigner. Robb died for independance. I cannot let his death, and the deaths of many others, be in vain."
"I will fix this, Sansa. I swear to you - I will make this right."
"I pray for it," Sansa smiled lightly, staring into his eyes so intently, it was as if she was trying to commit his face to memory. "Until we meet again." But her eyes said otherwise.
Then she turned her horse and left him alone, at the gates of Winterfell as she rejoined the guards who were waiting for her. Thus, he started as he began; a stranger to his home and without a name. So close and yet so far from his heart.