Jon was cladded in usual black leathers, his youthful shoulders bore new brown furs courtesy of his sister Sansa's fine skills with the needle. Now that he was King of the North, and newly a Targaryen Sansa had refused him to wear his usual "filth" furs so she called it. Encouraging him to wear furs befitting of a King.
Jon knew Sansa only meant yell by him, it was her way of making up for lost time. Whatever their relationship was before in this castle as children it had been replaced with trusted confidence, she joined him at every council now and he valued her opinion. It had been a fortnight since the Great War, the moral of his people had slowly begun to rekindle into hope of a new and better Era.
The Northern Lords were more than thrilled to here he was the true born son of Lyanna which meant he was of Stark blood and now carried the Stark name, no longer a bastard. It would not be a lie to say those same Northern Lords still struggled with the concept of him also being a Targaryen, some though actually had said he would make an superb King of the Seven Kingdoms, openly encouraging him to take the Seven Kingdoms and the North at his own Right.
Jon of course did not want the Iron Throne, that was Dany's right of her own, she deserved it far more than he ever would.
In the fortnight since the war Daenerys was kept to rest in bed, "bed rest" so the handmaids called it, had become a forsaken word around Winterfell as Daenerys was not a woman to be kept in such as a state.
Jon smirked at the thought, it had been very difficult for him to keep his betrothed in her room.
In the end with much council from Tyrion, himself and Maester Samwell Tully, Daenerys agreed to a fortnights rest and not a moment longer, she put their child's need above her own however headstrong she was.
Their Child.
This still took him some getting used to the idea of being a father.
No doubt of course Jon knew he would teach his son well everything that Ned Stark had taught him. Jon had admitted to Daenerys that he had never thought he would become a father. Daenerys understood of course because in honesty nor did she think that she would every bare a child again, as Daenerys had lived her life thinking she was cursed.
Cersei was no longer a threat as Jamie had killed his sister, a sacrifice at this own hand. Tyrion and Jamie Lannister had agreed to hold the Iron throne for Daenerys until she arrived to claim it. Theon had rescued his sister Yara, Queen Yara now reclaimed her people, their uncle had been killed by her hand a threat no longer. The grain that had been raided from House Tyrell had been spread among the Seven Kingdoms, more grain being sent from Essos.
The King of the North stood on the third floor of Winterfell watching his men working to rebuild the structures damaged from the Great War. The lady maids scurrying about in the snow running from each end of Castle decorating in preparation for the …His… His and Daenerys's Ceremonial Vows, which were to be held in the Gods Wood,
Then would come the Great Feast…which they would announce to those present their plans for their reign and Daenerys's pregnancy.
"If you keep crinkling your forehead like that you are destined to have lines deeper than father's." Jon turned toward the familiar voice as he was taken from his thoughts.
Arya. He smiled. Despite the news of his new-found parentage she would not let him forget that Ned Stark was his father in many ways, both Arya and Sansa still called him 'brother' and for that he was thankful.
"Aye little sister I fear they are already there to stay." He shook his head chuckling.
"You keep doing that, sneaking up on me I don't even hear you coming."
"Fast and silent as a Cat Syrio Forel used to say." She said teasingly.
"So, what could be on the King of the North's mind at this early hour?"
Jon grunted. "Everything seems to be falling into place its making me uncomfortable."
Arya was quiet, she knew what he meant, everything was going right for once. Something the Starks might never get used to.
"Yes, this is a new Era … one a new Stark Child will be born into, we must make he has a good childhood as we did." Arya said simply.
"Aye." Jon began to stride along the balcony, his eyes keenly surveying his people. He caught himself glimpsing at his new friend Gendry, who ironically was content with observing Arya a little too much for his liking.
Gendry had become Winterfell's new blacksmith, to say he did his job well was an understatement.
"Seems that Gendry may be captivated by you." Jon said curiously. Uncomfortable at the thought of another man interested in his little sister. Of course, arya could handle herself now he knew that after their first spar post Great War, but still Jon wasn't quite sure he was ready for men to call on his sisters just yet.
Arya scoffed in astonishment, throwing her hand out in disagreement.
"That's a ridiculous thought." She denied, griping her needle tightly annoyed at that thought.
"See for yourself then," Jon nodded at a Gendry seemingly forgetting that he was holding iron over hot coals staring directly at Arya.
Arya rolled her eyes and followed Jon's trail of vision. She saw Gendry gawking at her, before Jon could process Arya's movements, she had hoisted and readied an arrow and shot it directly over Gendry's shoulder into the haw stack a few yards behind him. Startled Gendry began hurriedly hammering away at the forgotten iron in his hands.
"Oh, just shut it." Arya growled, her cheeks flushed she punching Jon's arm, storming off to the fighting rink to spar with Lady Brienne.
"Poor lad." Jon said just loud enough for her to hear, not wanting to embarrass her further, shaking his head stifling a chuckle he headed to Daenerys's chambers to check on his betrothed.