I cannot believe it I've made it to part 10 with this story! As with all my stories I do have an endgame in mind, though I don't usually make it there...hopefully this story will be the exception and I might actually finish something for once haha.

Anyhow I promise there's still lots of story left to go; thanks to all who have stuck with me and made it to part 10! You all deserve awards because it's a decent chunk of reading. Hope I'm keeping your interest! Enjoy the next offering, hopefully I can continue this writing momentum I've generated...

Jon's breath caught in his throat as he grabbed Sansa's arm. The solar had slipped into silence with Arya's departure, leaving only the sound of his own heartbeat to keep his ears busy.

"What happened in my chambers…" he started quietly, incapable of continuing as he lost his thoughts to doubt. ...Explains everything that's happened since we left Castle Black...and makes me shrivel with fear but cry out in euphoria at the same time...he finished internally.

"I don't regret any of it." Sansa whispered, her eyes raking Jon's skillfully, searching for a betrayal of thought.

Jon regarded her carefully. "Nor do I." he muttered, rising from his chair. "I'm not certain exactly what I feel, but I know it isn't regret."

Tenderly he reached his hand forward to rest it on the side of Sansa's porcelain face. She did not shrink away nor avert her gaze, but trembled at his touch and exhaled sharply. He ached to kiss her.

"I love you, Sansa, much more deeply than a brother should." he exclaimed softly. "Perhaps I've always felt so, and just never come to realize it."

"Even when I was vile to you when we were younger?" Sansa murmured, emitting a tiny smirk over a stiff visage of concern.

Jon smiled minutely back. "Even then, I think." he admitted. Sansa looked back at him radiantly; though her face was heavy with emotion her hair was lustrous in the morning sunlight and her lips were very inviting.

He frowned and let his hand fall. "Now that I know you feel something toward me in return-"

"-Not just something." Sansa interrupted, her expression fiery. "I'm hopelessly infatuated with you, Jon Snow, and want nothing more than to be yours, and for you to be mine." she confessed breathlessly, her chest heaving. "And it kills me that I cannot have you." she finished weakly. Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

Jon regarded her wistfully, unable to hide his shock at the depth of her remorse. He stared back at her for a while in silence.

"Then where do we go from here?" he inquired simply. We both want the one thing we cannot have- each other. His mind thought sadly.

"On." Sansa answered simply. "Nothing will change; we still have a war to prepare for."

"And a country to unite." Jon added, his heart sinking. "We cannot allow the Northerners to even suspect...us...because it could ruin everything."

"What if one of us has to marry, though." Sansa whispered shakily. "Like you with Alys. You can't marry her- I don't know that I could live with you belonging to another."

"Neither of us must marry anyone-"

"-That's not true and you know it." Sansa retorted quickly. "Sooner or later some pact will inevitably have to be made," She shouted irritably. "And we'll be separated."

"If that's what you think will happen then there's little we can do about it while we share common blood." Jon declared dejectedly.

"Perhaps not, but you can start by not marrying Alys Karstark." She countered indignantly.

Jon reddened and his voice rose noticeably. "What if this marriage is what's best for the North? It's not as if I can just marry you instead, Sansa!"

"I understand that, but-"

The usual interruption halted their heated conversation in the form of several loud knocks on the door to the solar.

"Pardons, your grace, Lady Sansa, but the Karstarks are inquiring as to your return." Davos called tentatively from beyond the door.

Jon glanced regretfully at Sansa, who returned an unhappy gaze. "We'd best get back. Shouldn't keep your bride waiting." she sneered, turning to stalk out of the room.

"Sansa, wait!" Jon called after her, but she had already strode out of sight, leaving only a befuddled-looking Ser Davos in the doorway.

Sansa hardly touched the food that the cooks had prepared for she, Jon, and the Karstarks. She repeatedly turned over spoonfuls of mash and allowed her peas to tumble from her fork. Her attention was focused instead on Alys Karstark, who had, annoyingly enough, seated herself immediately to Jon's left.

The red-headed fighter was engaging Jon in active conversation, trying to prompt the king to speak with relative success, to Sansa's dismay. She listened carefully, eyeing Lady Alys with apprehension.

"I've been swinging this sword since before I could walk." The redhead mused. "First I fought my brothers, but once I could best them easily I faced knights and travelling sellswords instead. There were always many wandering folk passing through the ports outside Karhold." she chided, eyeing Jon continuously. "I saw you fight when you reclaimed Winterfell- you seem a fair swordsman yourself." she teased.

Jon seemed to blush and became suddenly focused on his food. "I've done some fighting in my time as a member of the Night's Watch."

"I can imagine." Lady Alys crooned. "Perhaps you'd like a match in the courtyard after we've finished here?"

Jon hesitated and glanced at Sansa. After some trepidation he nodded. "As you wish, my lady."

Lady Alys smiled at him before turning to face Sansa. "I apologize for not introducing myself sooner- I suppose we've likely met before." she noted brightly.

"I don't know that we have." Sansa answered plainly.

"A fair point- I think I would remember you." Alys admitted. "I've heard stories all around the North of your beauty." she added, casting Sansa a studying gaze.

Unsure how to respond, Sansa looked back at Lady Alys stiffly. "Thank you Lady Alys...I'm certain I've heard mention of your skills with the sword...in my travels." she lied obligatorily.

"Ah, I don't doubt you've gotten around- you spent a good deal of time in the South before winding up married to Ramsay Bolton, if I am not mistaken?"

"That is correct." She replied coldly.

"I suppose there'll be plenty of time in the future to hear of all that." She rambled.

Lord Harald cleared his throat decisively. "Your grace," he called, glancing over at Jon on the opposite end of the table. "Have you given any more thought to my proposal?"

Jon looked up at him blankly. "I'll need more time to consider, Lord Karstark. You're welcome to remain at Winterfell to await my decision if you wish."

"Alright, alright. Just don't keep us forever- I've a keep to return to, with or without my sister." he grumbled, spooning up a great heap of peas.

Sansa excused herself and stood up, unwilling to meet Jon's eyes. She exited the hall quickly and sent a servant girl to fetch Eva before heading back to her chambers.

As soon as she had shut the heavy doors to her room, she sat dejectedly on the bed with her face in her hands.

Finally Jon and I have admitted our feeling for one another, only to have everything snatched away. She thought dismally. What's wrong with me? Why have I fallen in love with my own kin?

An unchecked tear rolled its way down Sansa's cheek. She tried to wipe it away immediately as the door opened to emit Eva, but the handmaiden sensed her distress anyhow. Inwardly Sansa was glad. She had summoned Eva subconsciously, seeking someone to listen, perhaps.

"What's the matter, m'lady?" Eva asked gently. She made her way over and started to sit beside Sansa on the bed but paused for approval- with a nod of permission she flopped down at her lady's side.

"Last night wears on me, is all." Sansa sobbed quietly.

Eva cocked her head to one side. "I'd wager it's more than that."

Sansa looked up at her weakly, feeling defenseless. "If I tell, you must swear never to speak of it to anyone."

"I swear on my own life." Eva muttered sincerely, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Sansa hesitated, then spoke. "I've done something terrible." she uttered shakily.

"So have many, many people my lady."

"I've fallen in love with the wrong person." Sansa admitted, her tears now drying on her face.

Eva raised an eyebrow and nodded for her to continue.

"My brother." she murmured quietly.

Eva regarded her without reaction.

"Why aren't you surprised?" Sansa asked her quickly.

"I suppose I was expecting worse and...your feelings are understandable." Eva answered. "His grace is handsome and honourable, and he is the first man you've been with in a long while who's made you feel safe."

"That doesn't condone for us a love which disgraces the gods." Sansa muttered bitterly.

Eva appeared pleased and scooched closer to her. "He feels the same way, then?" she exclaimed excitedly, as though they were discussing a cheery childhood infatuation.

Sansa nodded but raised an eyebrow at Eva, who calmed herself and placed a gentle hand on Sansa's shoulder.

"We cannot help who we love, m'lady." she proclaimed coolly, taking her advice-giving quite seriously once more. "I also know that in life, especially one as uncertain as this one we're living, we should take what we are given and make the best of it, lest it slip away."

Sansa stared back at Eva, aghast. "Are you suggesting that I ignore all consequence and pursue Jon?"

"Well, I'm not dismissing that idea…" Eva giggled. "Many a maiden, myself included, would betray everything and everyone for a chance at one night with his grace, if you'll pardon me saying so."

Sansa smiled a little despite herself. Where Eva's captivation with Jon might normally have awakened her resentment, at the moment she found the prospect strangely reassuring. There's a difference between having ideas and fantasies and actually acting upon them. She told herself hopefully. And I'm not alone in having ideas.

"How about we get your mind off things." Eva suggested helpfully. "We've just received a wonderful shipment of fabrics from White Harbour; we could spread them out in the Great Hall and fashion you an exquisite gown. The Hall has likely emptied by now."

"Alright." Sansa agreed gratefully. "Fetch my needlework kit."

"Certainly, my lady."

"And Eva?"

"Yes?"

"You won't...tell anyone?" Sansa prodded quietly, meeting Eva's gaze firmly.

The handmaiden shook her head. "Not a soul."

Sansa nodded and watched her leave the chamber. I've gambled and spilled my secret. she thought dangerously. I pray Eva is as loyal as she seems.

The afternoon sun had risen into the sky as Sansa and Eva embroidered a new dress of light blue and silver fabric in the Great Hall. There was no sign of Jon, Arya, the Karstarks, or anyone else for that matter. They had all left to attend business elsewhere, apparently.

"You'll look a proper Northern ice queen once this dress is finished." Eva mused as she helped stitch fine white thread details onto the gown's arm.

"I should hope so." Sansa muttered smugly with a smile. "Let's make this a gown to inspire fear and envy in all my subjects." she chuffed playfully.

"Have you reverted to a proper fancy princess again then?" Arya teased from across the Hall, announcing her entrance with a rather loud slam of the door. "Looks like something Cersei would wear…" she added upon coming closer as she inspected the gown.

"Take that back." Sansa snapped, not as light-heartedly as intended.

"I'm only kidding." Arya mumbled with a sly grin. She sat down beside her sister, such that Sansa could see that her cheeks were flushed with cold and that her face was splattered with mud.

Sansa rolled her eyes. "What have you been up to that's put you in such a good mood? Did you make up with Jon?"

Arya nodded with satisfaction, watching Sansa stitch the gown's hem. "He apologized and let me whack him very hard with a wooden sword." she admitted happily. "Several times, in fact."

Sansa snorted and smiled. "Is that all?"

"I also proved him wrong by besting him and Lady Alys in duels."

Sansa smiled genuinely and cast Arya a mischievous look. "Nicely done."

"I take it you don't like her either, then."

From across the table, Eva gave Sansa a knowing smile.

"I don't care for her, and I certainly don't want Jon to marry her." Sansa conceded.

Arya shrugged. "She's really not terrible...she's certainly no prissy southern sun-beater, as Tormund would say, and she fights quite well, but I don't like how she's walked in here like it's all going to be hers."

Sansa frowned and completed a few rather aggressive stitches. "Are they still at it then? With the dueling?" she quipped quickly, trying to hide her displeasure.

"Aye, I think they're still out in the courtyard." Arya noted.

Impulsively, Sansa put down her needlework and stood up. "Eva, please put this away. We'll finish later."

"Where are you going?" Arya called out bewilderedly.

"To see for myself." Sansa muttered, leaving the Great Hall.

She walked out toward the courtyard purposefully, heading for the sound of singing steel. There was a hand's width of fresh snow blanketing the ground, and the sky was a light oyster grey fading to a dull steel tone as it stretched closer to the horizon. Wispy puffs of clouds hung dully in the windless sky, lending a lacklustre appearance to the tableau.

Soldiers-in-training maneuvered around the open space, fighting with wooden swords or else completing various chores or exercises. The Karstark knights sipped ale under the stable roof with Tormund and Davos, watching the duel that took place at the centre of it all.

Jon and Lady Alys were fighting with steel amidst the soldiers, completely absorbed in their own match and paying the others no attention. Sansa noticed that Jon was not using Longclaw, but a rather lighter sword in its place. Alys appeared to be brandishing her weapon madly, her hair flying about savagely in a fluid red corona. Neither fighter was wearing any armour; Alys had thrown hers aside and was instead fighting in her leathers to match Jon's apparel.

Sansa watched in numb silence for a long while, drawing her long cloak tightly around herself against the cold. Eventually Jon executed a complicated twist of his sword and managed to knock Alys' weapon from her hand, such that he could proceed to hold his sword to her throat. The extended time for which he held his weapon up, staring straight at her, before she yielded and he let his sword arm drop made Sansa's blood boil. Alys is stealing his attention with swordplay. She mused angrily. But two can play that game.

Sansa marched up to the pair of them, who were breathing heavily from the fight, and cleared her throat languidly. "Quite a duel." She decreed flatly, causing Alys and Jon to turn her way. Jon opened his mouth to say something, but Lady Alys was quicker.

"Lady Sansa! Are you feeling better?" she chimed. "You fled so quickly after the meal earlier…"

"I'm fine, thank you." Sansa seethed, eyeing Alys hotly. Addressing Jon, she noted "That was an interesting move you used to win."

"I've never known you to be interested in swordplay." Jon observed, a smile detectable at the corners of his mouth.

Sansa gazed back at him, recalling her conversations with Eva- both the earlier one on the ramparts and today's confessions in her chambers.

"I suppose I've never had access to any sort of teacher, aside from Ser Rodrik." She finished thoughtfully. "Could you show me something? Right now?" she added, finding Jon's dark eyes. "Perhaps just the basics?"

Jon appeared thoroughly shocked, but shrugged. "I, I...suppose." He stuttered. "Are you sure you want to handle a sword?"

Sansa nodded and dropped her cloak into the snow. Underneath she was wearing an old rough-spun wool dress. Not exactly proper swordplay attire, but not a gown she was worried about spoiling, at least.

She stepped forward and Jon presented her hesitantly with his sword. "It's blunt but still dangerous, so be careful. Hold it like this." He muttered, taking Sansa's fingers gently and curving them into the proper positions on the sword's handle. She felt her flesh tingle at his touch.

"It's heavier than I would have thought." She noted immediately as she lifted the sword, the first time she had ever done so in her lifetime.

Jon smiled understatedly at her, his dark eyes soft and kind. "It gets lighter with practice, I promise."

Alys strutted over with a condescending grin. "Want to trade in your needlework yet?" she teased with a fraudulent smile. "Nothing beats the feeling of good steel in your hands."

Sansa shot her a forced smile. "We'll have to see." She mused, getting used to the weight of the sword in her palm. "How do I stand?" She asked, glancing at Jon.

"Space your legs like this." Jon suggested, standing right beside her such that his breath tickled the back of her neck. "Angle this foot forward, this one slightly outward." he added.

Jon pressed into her now, such that she could feel him against the length of her body, in a way that sent Sansa's heart thundering and left her craving more- more closeness, more mingled breath, more of Jon's touch.

He told her to bend her knees, to raise her chest, to stay relaxed. He was patient and meticulous, an excellent teacher.

Alys watched blankly from a few strides away, her arms crossed. Every so often she offered a small criticism or suggestion. Internally, Sansa cheered triumphantly as Jon manipulated her body into an appropriate fighting stance. Externally, she maintained composure and presented a convincing image. Just a brother teaching his sister how to fight. Sansa told herself.

Once Jon was satisfied with Sansa's stance he stood in front of her and took a careful hold of her sword tip. He demonstrated a few simple motions and then had her try them out on a stationary Lady Alys.

After several attempts Sansa was able to successfully disarm her completely immobile opponent, causing Jon to smile heartily.

"You're really getting the hang of it." He exclaimed, catching Sansa's eye affectionately. "The key is to concentrate- a sharp mind is just as important as a sharp sword."

Suddenly Sansa froze, her thoughts reeling. Key. Sharp. She reflected, the words connecting in her mind's eye. The image of her father sharpening Ice below the great Weirwood tree swam before her eyes once more. The memory extended, providing Sansa with a long-awaited epiphany. The key to the locked caverns- I know where to find it. She realized, her heart pounding in her ears.

"I think I've had enough for now." She stammered quickly, nearly dropping her sword. Sansa marched past Jon, pausing long enough at his side to whisper at him quickly.

"Meet me in the Godswood." she breathed quietly to him, scarcely louder than the nonexistent wind. Her exhalation twisted and curled in the frosty air, weaving its way upward to join the clouds.