IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE - READ BEFORE CONTINUING:
I have gotten multiple rude reviews in regards to the pairing of Jon/OC. I have put at the beginning of my first chapter for months now that - This isn't a story with the pairing Jonerys. I want to explicitly state this again - JON IS PAIRED WITH AN OC CHARACTER, NOT DAENERYS. Some of the reviews also state that they're upset about the fact that the OC adds a (minimal) change to Jon's backstory, which surprised (and apparently angered) them to the point of childish aggression - so I'd like that to be explicitly stated as well.
If you continue reading my story beyond this author's note - you can not be surprised by the JON/OC pairing, nor the minor background change.
Now without further ado, I hope you enjoy my story!
Sansa Stark was sitting in her chambers, her long auburn hair falling over her face as she sewed.
The snow was falling softly outside of her window, and the fire was burning in the hearth. The room was quiet and peaceful and was quite a change from only a couple months ago when she had felt like a prisoner inside the Winterfell walls that had once felt like home. Even though the Stark banners were once again hanging throughout her childhood home, the memories of what she had been subjected to had yet to fade.
The castle had only been reclaimed from the Bolton's for twenty-seven nights, and despite the progress that had been made to the castle to return it to its original state – the nightmares Sansa suffered had yet to yield, even as the bruises faded and the cuts healed leaving behind scars on her back, wrist, and legs.
Her youngest brother had been buried below the castle in the crypts with their ancestors, and Jon had kept his word about letting her have their father's chambers and had named her Lady Of Winterfell.
Jon had been made King Of The North and had done a fair job of ruling so far. Many of the Houses that had pledged to fight with them at The Battle Of The Bastards had sent even more men to help them fight the war ahead. The other Houses that had refused their request to join their cause had arrived in Winterfell within a fortnight of the battle to ask forgiveness and pledge their swords to the Starks again.
He had written to the new heirs of both the Karstarks and the Umbers to invite them to Winterfell. Sixteen-year-old Alys Karstark was the new Lady of Karhold and had been more than happy to forget the fate of her Grandfather and take her father's place as the leader of her House and pledge her soldiers to defend the North against the Long Night.
Ten-year-old Ned Umber had been advised to swear his sword to the Stark's and to beg forgiveness for the death of the youngest Stark. Ned had felt genuinely repulsed by the actions of his father, having been raised beside Rickon Stark since he had arrived at the Last Hearth about three years before.
The Northern army had now reached its highest at just over nine thousand men, including four thousand and five hundred Knights Of The Vale. Sansa knew her brother needed more men to help fight the battle that was to come. To help him, she had written to her cousin, Robin Arryn to notify him that she was sending Lord Royce back to The Vale to retrieve him and more soldiers.
She knew that her cousin was no longer safe once the "Queen" learned that the fifteen-year-old Lord had sent his men North to defend the woman she believed had conspired to murder her son. She also knew that the Knights of The Vale were used to fighting in the snow and would be significant assets to have when the Long Night began.
A knock at the door pulled Sansa out of her concentration, and she jumped slightly at the sound;
"You may come in," she said upon gaining her composure.
The man who had opened the door was Ser Davos Seaworth – a sweet face that had become increasingly close to her brother, "My Lady, the King has requested your presence in his chambers."
"I see, I will join him in a few moments," Sansa put aside the clothing she had been sewing and rose from her chair.
"Would you like me to escort you, my Lady?"
"No, thank you; I can manage just fine."
Ser Davos nodded and backed out of the room, closing the door as gently as possible before walking back down the hall to his new King.
Sansa thought the Onion Knight was a kind man, but he had served Stannis Baratheon and had been a smuggler. The fact that the used to be criminal was now the right hand of the King of The North bothered her slightly. She didn't wish to admit it, but she felt some slight at not being seated on her brother's right side during the feast – or that her council wasn't the first he sought when he needed it.
She wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and left her chambers, walking fluidly through the hallways to her brother's room.
Men and women nodded and bowed as she passed, and she smiled in acknowledgment as they showed their respects. Some of the men were the survivors from the Bolton Household and had thrown down their swords and pledged to be faithful and serve House Stark. Sansa had come to realize that these men were afraid of Ramsay as well, nearly as much as she and Theon Greyjoy were. Their smiles had gone from anxious and wary to friendly and relaxed once their sadistic Lord had been defeated.
When she arrived at her brother's chambers, she knocked only once before entering – barely waiting for a response;
"You sent Ser Davos to fetch me?" She asked, with a hint of humorous disdain in her voice.
Jon was sitting in front of the fire with a goblet of ale in his hand, which he put down as he rose and strode towards his sister.
"I didn't want you to get angry with me for interrupting you like you did the other night," he said with a smile before embracing her warmly.
Sansa chuckled at the memory as she remembered her past annoyance and wondered if her brother had realized that the clothing she was currently working on was for him.
"Was it worth interrupting me this time?"
"I've received quite a few letters in the last day or two, and I figured you'd want to know of them. I also figured you'd want to make your opinions known about my decision."
She rose her eyebrows, "make my opinions known? Am I correct to assume that the decision is made then?"
Jon sighed, fully aware that his sister would either react with anger or fear at what he was about to tell her. He walked over to the table and picked up four small scrolls.
"One of these letters is from Queen Cersei Lannister, wanting us to go to King's Landing and pledge fealty. The second is from Queen Daenerys Targaryen's Hand Of The Queen, Tyrion Lannister-"
"Wait, Tyrion is alive?" Her voice was full of genuine concern, and this surprised Jon.
"Yes, according to this letter he's Hand Of The Queen to Daenerys Targaryen – The Mad King's daughter. He also requests that we go and pledge fealty at Dragonstone, and is also offering a peace treaty with the North if we help take down our common enemy."
"Our common enemy being Cersei?"
"As far as he's aware, yes. However, we don't have time to worry about vengeance for our family-"
Sansa sighed, "Cersei isn't just going to leave us alone. As you said, we have so many enemies now. I know you're worried about the dead, but we can't forget about the South. We still have The Wall and The Night's Watch to protect us, but there's nothing between Cersei and us."
"Cersei is down in King's Landing. She can't get to you here," Jon reassured, "besides, I will protect you from any threat. We need to focus on The Night King because he isn't waiting or plotting the way these Queen's are. I didn't want to acknowledge either of their requests, but Daenerys may be a good-"
"Are you seriously suggesting we pledge fealty to the Targaryen Queen?"
"The third letter's from Samwell Tarly. There's Dragon Glass underneath Dragonstone, and if that's true, then we need to get to it and create weapons from it. This Queen also has an army of over one-hundred thousand strong. We need all the men we can get for The Long Night to fight with us."
"Do you truly think that she has come to Westeros to help the North win The Battle For The Dawn? She came here to get Cersei off her father's throne and to take back The Seven Kingdoms – all the Seven Kingdoms. She isn't going to come to fight with us or let you mine the Dragon Glass."
"We don't know that," Jon replied, "if I can speak to her-"
"You?" Her voice rose, and her brother could hear the fear breaking through, "you can't leave Winterfell and go down South! Every Stark that has crossed the border between the North and South have never come home! We just got our home back, and we're the only Stark's left. You can't just leave!"
"Sansa, like you said – the Targaryen Queen returned to take back her father's throne. She believes she's the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and as the King Of The North, I need to speak with her. I need to convince her that the dead are coming and that they're more important than Cersei."
"She won't believe you! Nobody in the South is going to believe you. We need to train the men we have here and prepare the battlements. If you're right about the Night's King finding a way over The Wall, then we don't know how long we have, and we're going to need you here."
"We don't have the men to face the Night's King's army," his voice was even and controlled, but his sister could hear the slight shiver of despair, "the Targaryen Queen has dragons and more than one-hundred thousand men. We can't win the fight without her and the Southern armies."
"I sent word to my cousin, Robin and he's joining us in Winterfell with the rest of Knight's Of The Vale-"
"It won't be enough, Sansa."
There was a beat of silence, and she could tell by the look of defeat on her brother's face that he believed the risk was necessary.
"How many are there?" She asked, in regards to the numbers of the army of the dead.
"One-hundred thousand... if not more," Jon answered with a sigh as he sat back down beside the fire.
"We have barely nine-thousand..." Sansa whispered more to herself.
A couple of moments passed before she sat beside her brother at the fire, "what's the fourth letter?"
"It's from Edd. Bran and Meera Reed returned to Castle Black. They asked him to send word that they're currently on their way to Winterfell."
"Bran's alive?"
"Yes, and he'll be home in just over a fortnight."
He watched as a smile lit up his sister's face. It was the brightest smile he had seen as of yet.
"I'll be gone by the time he gets here, but I trust you'll take care of Winterfell while I'm gone."
This caused her smile to falter, but after a moment, she sighed, "I can't change your mind, can I?"
"I need to do this Sansa – for us. I know it's a risk, but I need to do it for the North and our family."
She nodded despite feeling her heart sink, "when will you be leaving?"
"By months end. Ser Davos is coming with me, and I'll take some soldiers too."
"Does this peace treaty Tyrion is offering... does it include Northern independence?" She asked.
"It doesn't specify," Jon replied shortly.
"She's going to want all Seven of the Kingdoms. You realize that – don't you?"
"You're afraid I'll bend the knee?" Her brother scoffed, and this infuriated her.
"No! I'm afraid you'll get burnt alive by her dragons, just like our Grandfather and uncle! Alternatively, have you forgotten the reason our father fought to get her father off The Iron Throne in the first place?"
"I haven't forgotten Sansa, but this Daenerys may not be like her father. It's worth the risk – to save the North."
She took a deep breath to calm herself, knowing that she wouldn't change his mind and knowing that she didn't want to spend their remaining time together fighting.
"I'll support you if this is your choice because you're my brother and my King. However, the Northern Lords are proud, and they won't be pleased about this."
"I'm aware, but I trust you will keep them in control for me while I'm away – until I return?"
"Of course, I'll do my best," she smiled sadly and embraced her brother once more before rising.
"We'll break the news to the Lords and Ladies during the morning feast. For now, let's go enjoy the evening and get a good night's rest before you start preparing for your journey."
Jon nodded and smiled at his sister – pleased and somewhat surprised by how easy it was to get her support on the matter.
"Sleep well, Jon."
"You too, Sansa."
Jon was in the crypts, just like he used to dream of when he was younger. However, this time, he wasn't afraid as he strolled past the statues towards the face of his father and brothers.
"I've been waiting for you to come," his father's voice was clear and kind.
"You've been waiting?"
"Of course, I knew that one day you'd come home and reunite with your sister," the statue of his father seemed to come alive and smiled at him, "you're my blood after all, and I promised to keep you safe."
"You promised to keep me safe?" He asked, "I don't understand. You sent me to The Wall, and the Long Night is coming. I'm doing everything I can to keep Sansa safe, and Bran's coming home too - but I don't know how to defeat The Night King. We don't have the men anymore."
"Relax Jon, The Great War is only beginning, and it will be a Stark to end The Long Night and defeat The Night King. Remember though; it's imperative for the defeat of the army of the dead that ice and fire become one as well. It always has been, and that's part of the reason I promised to protect you."
"I don't understand what any of this means."
"You will, one day. It isn't time yet, but I promise the next time we see each other – we'll speak about your Mother."
"Wait, father! Please, don't go just yet!" Jon called to him, but the statue had returned to solid stone.
Suddenly something felt wrong again like he shouldn't be in the crypts of Winterfell.
Sansa's voice echoed in his ears, 'you're a Stark to me.'
However, the King's Of Winter seemed to turn their cold eyes as if to say otherwise.
Jon turned, frightened, and raced back to the surface where he belonged.
It was nearly the end of the fortnight, and Jon once again found himself waking with a start, surprised when the rays of sunlight shone through his window.
He was in his old room – the one he had once shared with Rob, though there was only one bed now.
He sighed and rose out of his bed, pulling on his clothing and his cloak quickly to get down to the feast before Sansa complained about his tardiness.
"Your Grace," murmurs followed him through the halls, and people bowed and stepped out of the way as he strode past trying not to show that he was currently in a rush and trying to acknowledge his people.
"You're late," Sansa hissed when he sat down in his spot in the Great Hall.
"I'm sorry; I didn't sleep well."
"I can tell that much for myself, but it isn't proper manners for a King to be late – especially when there is a special guest to be greeted."
This comment perplexed Jon, and he looked at his sister with a confused expression, "what special guest?"
"Well, they have already sat down to eat, so you'll need to greet them later."
When his sister turned away from him and started eating, he continued to give her a confused look for only a couple more moments before turning to grab something to eat.
The morning feast was always a quiet and rushed affair, and once Jon and Sansa had finished with their food – the Lords and Ladies began excusing themselves and bowing out of the Great Hall.
As the Great Hall continued to empty, Sansa sat beside her brother and tried to tune out the conversation that was being had with Ser Davos Seaworth. She was too busy trying to signal her guest to arise from her chair and announce herself to The King Of The North.
It wasn't until Sansa, Jon and the Freefolk were the only ones in the Great Hall that a woman stepped forward from the farthest end of the room. She had remained out of sight from The King until she had gotten her courage up to stand from the table and make her way to the center of the hall.
"Your Grace," the woman spoke loudly and broke Jon out of his conversation with Tormund, who was always seated beside the Onion Knight that had excused himself several minutes before.
The King Of The North stopped mid-sentence and looked to see who had spoken to him.
Upon seeing the familiar face, the curious look turned to one of shock and then joy;
"Idalia?" He rose out of his chair and strode around the table as Sansa smiled and Tormund watched.
The woman in the middle of the room had waist length blonde hair, which was braided and hanging over her shoulder. She wore a simple, but beautiful pale blue dress with some embroidering around the sleeves and neckline. Her pale skin and light hair were in contrast to her bright blue eyes, that like Sansa's – were proof she or one of her parents were from the South and not the North.
The woman beamed and tried to suppress her joy as Jon was soon in front of her.
She curtsied, "Lady Idalia of House Lake, my King."
He stood in front of her, still in shock but upon seeing her rise from her curtsy and being met with the familiar blue eyes – his restraint broke, and without thinking, he embraced her and lifted her into his arms.
"Dalia!" Their laughter intertwined as he spun her around, and when he put her down and looked at her again, they were both beaming at each other – as if they had been true lovers in another life.
She looked at him as if for the first time and didn't say anything as she memorized his face again, noticing the scars around his eyes and the haunted look that had seemed only to grow since she had seen him last.
"Oh, Jon," without thinking, the woman known as Lady Idalia Lake reached out to brush a strand of hair off his face, "I thought I'd never see you again."
"I feared the same," he answered as he looked at the sight before him.
Idalia Lake was no longer a girl anymore but was a woman, and he could tell by her appearance that the last seven years had been trying for her as well. She was still as beautiful as ever though.
"You're stunning," Jon said before he could prevent himself.
"Thank you, your grace," she curtsied again and upon rising, addressed Sansa who had walked towards them.
"Princess Sansa, thank you so much for writing to me and updating me about the change in circumstance."
The Lady Of Winterfell smiled, "no Princess, please – you may refer to me as 'Lady Sansa,' or simply Sansa when nobody else is around."
Idalia returned the smiled and gently embraced the auburn-haired beauty.
"You're still as beautiful as ever, Lady Sansa."
"Thank you, Lady Lake. I return the sentiment to you as well."
"You wrote to her?" Jon asked, sending his sister a questioning look.
"Of course, as we were speaking of just the other night – we can never have too many allies."
Her brother nodded, "well, I suppose you must be tired after the long trip. Why don't we speak later so you can get some rest?"
"As you request, your grace," Idalia curtsied again, with a smirk on her face this time as his face went red.
"Please, Dalia – just call me, Jon."
The woman laughed, "it's so much more fun seeing you blush when I refer to you as my King, though."
Sansa tried not to smirk as well and decided to offer her brother a break and spoke to Idalia;
"Lady Lake, why don't you come with me, and I'll get you settled in one of our nicer chambers that we have here at Winterfell?"
"I would appreciate that very much Lady Sansa. Thank you so much."
"All right, well – I'll let you ladies get to it," Jon stepped aside for the ladies to pass.
Before the two left the Great Hall; however, his voice rang out - "Sansa, may I request you in my chambers later after you're done making sure Lady Lake is comfortable?"
Sansa turned and smiled, "yes, Brother."
It took a couple of hours for Sansa to finish getting Idalia settled before knocking on her brothers' door.
"Come in Sansa," she could hear the exhaustion in her brothers' voice.
"Good evening, Jon."
"Don't do that," he replied shortly, "sound all innocent like you aren't plotting anything. I know you."
"I haven't done anything but gather allies for us for The Long Night."
"Oh, so this has nothing to do with our conversation from the other day? About marriage?"
Sansa sat down in front of the fire and smirked, "you made it quite clear that you didn't care about my advice on the subject."
He sighed, "I don't have time to think about marriage and sons right now. I need to figure out how to defeat The Night King and his army. Nothing is more important than that at the moment."
"As I explained to you – part of being King is being married and having heirs. You're already twenty-three, and because you're a Bastard, your claim isn't absolute until you marry and have a son."
"I'll worry about that once The Long Night is ended. You have my word Sansa, but in the meantime-"
"You may lose your army by then! I'm trying to solidify your claim to the North and advising you about the politics, but you're insisting on being ignorant! I know you don't want to think about marriage right now, but they made you King Of The North, and that comes with responsibilities."
"I never asked for this!" Jon snapped, raising his voice, "I only accepted reclaiming Winterfell for you and as you keep pointing out – we only won The Battle Of The Bastards, because the Knights Of The Vale came to our aid for you. I only accepted becoming King because I wanted to protect you and-"
"The Seven Kingdoms," she finished his sentence for him and continued, "you're the shield that guards the realm of men. I believe you about The Long Night Jon, but there's more to fighting a war and gathering allies for The Battle For The Dawn then just military alliances. Robb didn't realize that."
"I'm not Robb! I don't intend to make the same mistakes as him or father."
"Then perhaps you should listen to my advice!" Sansa rose from her seat and angrily strode across the room to where her brother was standing, "I learned things in Kings Landing about ruling a kingdom, and I know more than you think. If Robb had spent more time listening to our Mother then breaking his vows and-"
"Your Mother," Jon interrupted, "and I agree that Robb made mistakes, but I'm not him. I know I was never as good as Robb at riding or fighting, or as smart as him – However, I'd like to believe that I have learned more. After all, I have survived this long, and I have had to make some political decisions too."
"Like going South to meet with a Queen, you don't know whose father murdered members of our family?"
"Sansa – I'm going South for us. I know I don't know about marriage alliances, but the main thing we need to focus on is building an army – as well as gathering the tools we'll need for the war ahead."
Her brother's tone had changed from annoyed to authoritative, and she knew the conversation was over.
However, she was surprised when Jon continued; "When I return from Dragonstone, we'll speak of marriage alliances – once I have an army behind me and the Dragon Glass in barrels headed for Winterfell."
She nodded and decided to take her to leave, but before she reached the door, her brother spoke again, "And don't think I don't realize your plans for Idalia."
"I don't know what you suspect I'm plotting," Sansa replied with a smirk.
"I told you I wouldn't marry someone that I didn't love. It was just a coincidence that the young Lady I was once infatuated with shows up at Winterfell a few days after we had that conversation?"
"Completely coincidental."
Jon smiled and looked at his sister who was standing with her hand on the door handle, "you may still have the others fooled, but I'm not. I know how intelligent you are, and I know what you wanted."
"My only desires are to have our family together and safe, and that requires marriage for you. I also figured that Idalia could make you happy and bring a smile to your face. I remember how you lit up whenever she came through the Winterfell gates when we were children. I want you to be happy."
"That's sweet Sansa," he walked over to his sister and embraced her, "we'll speak when I get home."
She nodded and opened the door, sending her brother a smile before walking gracefully down the hallway to her chambers.
He sighed, 'what am I going to do about her? She won't relent.'
His mind shifted from his sisters' relentless plotting to Idalia.
'She truly is radiant. I wonder what the reason is for her never marrying.'
On the other side of Winterfell, the woman he was thinking about was in her chambers sewing and waiting for a knock on her door.
When it came, she grabbed her cloak from her bed and put it on before striding outside.
"Lady Sansa," she greeted with a curtsy and got a radiant smile back.
"Idalia, you can call me by name. Nobody is listening to us," she held out her arm and pulled the blonde haired woman along with her down the hallway.
"I spoke to Jon, and he's stunned by you," Sansa spoke as not to be overheard by the passerbys, "However, he's too focused on the idea of making military alliances to think about marriage. Perhaps when he returns from meeting The Dragon Queen, he'll be willing to consider it."
"What happens if he doesn't return?" She asked with concern in her voice, "wouldn't that make Lord Brandon the King Of The North?"
"I don't know what my brother has been doing on the other side of the wall, but I do know that unless they found some cure for his legs; He isn't in the proper state or educated in how to govern the North during The Long Night. One thing I do believe I can get Jon to do is to name me as his successor."
"But will the Northern Lord's accept that? If Bran truly is alive, he holds precedence over you and Jon."
"Bran loved Jon, almost as much as Rob did – plus the Lords know about his condition and know that he has been living in the wilderness for years. It shouldn't be hard to convince either of them to let me be the Lady Of Winterfell until Jon returns. I'm fearful of his leaving, but I trust him and his words."
"Jon will return," Idalia reassured her, despite still being worried for his safety, "I trust that he won't leave you or your powerless brother alone in this world. He's fearless by going down to Dragonstone, and he's doing it all for you and the North. He's courageous when it comes to that."
"Yes, my Beloved brother has much courage, but he's also quite foolish at times."
"When does he leave?"
"The morning after the morrow," Sansa answered with a sigh, "it'll be months before I see him again – if this meeting of his goes well with The Dragon Queen."
"I've heard good things of her. She freed the slaves and had her army pledge to her after giving them their freedom."
"With three giant dragons behind her back. I'm sure they felt no pressure at all."
"You're worried that Jon will bend the knee?"
"I'm scared The Dragon Queen won't give him a choice. She didn't come here to give the Kingdoms freedom. She came to conquer Westeros and take back the Iron Throne – and the North is part of that."
Idalia didn't know what to say and could hear the fear in the auburn-haired woman's voice.
She knew that the annoyance the Lady was radiating from her person was coming from her trauma and distress at the idea of her brother going South – and more specifically, never coming home.
As they continued to walk, they found themselves outside, walking in the snow – arm in arm and no longer speaking, but enjoying the company of the other.
Sansa found it comforting, having not had a friend since leaving Kings Landing. She had lost her friend Jeyne Poole the day her father had been arrested, and Margaery Tyrell had, of course, stayed behind when she had fled Kings Landing after the murder of King Joffrey – her former betrothed.
As they walked, she found herself growing increasingly worried that once Jon left – the Lords would want her to marry one of their sons. She had also been worried that if the King didn't marry, she would have to secure alliances for her brother. She shook off that thought – Jon would never force her to marry again, and nobody would dare touch her with Brienne as her guard.
'Everything's going to be all right,' Sansa told herself, 'Bran will be home soon, and Jon will return from Dragonstone safe and sound. Everything's going to be fine.'