JON

"The Maiden & the King"

"Did you hear of the Freys?", Sansa asked her brother. They were in the Lord's chamber. Jon was sitting writing rations on parchment. He glanced up.

"No. What about them?", Jon asked.

"I assumed you read it already.", Sansa looked. Her fiery hair cascaded down her shoulders in deep waves. Three twists on each side of her head were pulled back in a bun; it symbolized her Northern and Southern heritage.

"I haven't. Let me guess he told you.", Jon asked. His sister nodded in silence. He was referring to Petyr Baelish. Jon knew little of him, but he knew that he didn't trust him with his little sister.

"Every male of House Frey is dead. Winter came apparently.", Sansa relayed while taking a seat in front of the wooden table set adjacent to the fire. She was wearing her dark navy leather dress which she had made recently. On her shoulders were speckled gray fur pads; the length of her skirt pleated.

"Who did it? How?", Jon asked. He stopped writing and sighed. He had to admit it was pleasing to hear, but it also shocked him. It was not every fortnight an entire house went extinct.

"I don't know. I suppose it was some of my uncle's loyal bannermen. The Hanns or the Yuntleys, I would assume. They were poisoned with the Long Farewell. Nevertheless, it is greatly appreciated by House Stark.", Sansa said with a smirk. She thought of how it was poetic that Myrcella Lannister was poisoned with the same substance.

"Hm. I would like to know—whoever it is we will need their help in the war to come.", Jon said with a grim face. The fire put a dim glow on his face; half of his sable hair pulled back into a bun to honor his father.

Sansa stared at him for a while. He had told her pieces about them but never went into detail. 'Death' is how he described them. He told her of about the Night King and his ability to resurrect the dead and his legion of white walkers—each with their own army of wights. All of it seemed too difficult for Sansa to imagine. She believed in things she could see and feel not play things from stories in her childhood. Yet she did believe Jon because one thing Jon had never been was a liar.

"Jon, we have the wall to separate us from them. It has never fallen so why now?", Sansa asked. Jon had already had the discussion once before with her and it was frustrating him. He knew it was hard to believe stories that Old Nan use to tell, but still. He was her brother and she should trust him.

"Sansa, I have seen them—"

"—But Cersei Jon.", Sansa interrupted raising her voice.

"Cersei is not death Sansa!", Jon yelled. He felt bad for yelling at his sister, but he didn't know any other way to make her listen. She hadn't seen them, she hadn't fought them. Sansa surrendered as she relaxed her shoulders and took a breath. "Look Cersei is mortal. The Night King and his army are not. They don't sleep, they don't eat, and they don't tire. We need to find dragonglass and more valyrian steel. We need rations and men. Cersei has to wait, besides my army will not march south. Not after Father. We are safe up here—at least from her."

Sansa waited before she responded. "Jon if you think that something that does not speak or have any motivation is smarter than Cersei then you are mistaken. I have sat and watched men make decision after decision. They are dead—I'm not. Please listen to me."

Jon looked at Sansa and sat further back into his seat. "What would you do—I'm not saying I will do whatever you say, but I will take heed sister."

"Recruit the same bannermen that you plan on using against the Night King if he marches south. The Vale will follow you as will all of the Northern houses, the freefolk and the Night's Watch unless they wish to join the Night King. I'm not saying we march South but we need to be prepared. Cersei is too unpredictable, and I would not put it past her to march North."

"The Dragon Queen—Daenerys.", Jon said. He was given the parchment with the Targaryen seal earlier and he suddenly remembered. He wanted to hear what Sansa had to say on the matter because the thoughts that he was having didn't seem rational. He knew of her dragons and he knew that they would give a great edge in a battle against the dead, but still her house was no friend of the Northerners. Northerners never forget.

"What of her?", Sansa asked. This topic never ceased to intrigue her. There were many stories about her and Sansa wanted to know more. What motivates her; what are her desires beside the throne?

"She sent this to all of the noble families.", Jon relayed. He handed her the piece of parchment.

Sansa read it and sighed. "So Dorne and Highgarden are supporting her claim and she is sailing to Dragonstone? Jon, I hate to say it, but we need her. After all, doesn't fire kill them?"

"Yes. How do you know we can trust her? She is a Targaryen with three dragons—and they are not the size of sheep.", Jon said. He was playing devil's advocate as to see what cunning thoughts his sister would spur.

"I don't but we share a common enemy and we should let her take care of Cersei—support her if we have to. She can't be any worse than Cersei. Trust me. The two of you actually have much in common. She liberated the slave cities and united the Dothraki—a feat no one else has done. You united the wild—freefolk and brought them south of the wall. Another thing that has never been done.", Sansa told him. She almost called the freefolk wildlings which she knew he hated.

Jon paused for a while to consider the similarities. He wondered why Daenerys did those things and what she felt like in her situation. He knew how he felt and it was more so a duty than an honor for him. "Sounds like you have already pledged the North to her. Her father was the Mad King and he burned our relatives Sansa."

"Jon you of all people should understand that a child should not be judged by their parents…", Sansa said. She regretted the words as soon as they came out. Jon stared in silence. "Sorry I shouldn't have said that. What I mean to say is that she never knew her father and she was raised by whomever was giving her refuge at the time. She knows what it's like to suffer at the hand of a monarch, so I would expect her to be reasonable at the least."

"So what—we should bend the knee to her and swear an oath?"

"No I'm not saying that Jon. Look you are the King and my brother. I will support you either way. All I'm saying is that if you want allies, this may be our best chance. Just see how her siege plays out. You don't have to bend the knee to her, you are a King."

"You think she won't fly North, as Targaryens have before?"

"Well on the chance she does, we will have the armory make weapons strong enough to kill a dragon.", Sansa relayed.

Jon looked at her face, which was serious. He could not deny that Sansa was a skilled strategist anymore, even if they may not have the resources she was discussing. "Oh and I guess we have a dragon to practice on as well."

"Don't patronize me. We have to be prepared now—otherwise we will end up like Mother and Father.", Sansa said. She often felt as if she was speaking something sinister into existence by discussing the ones they had lost, but still she spoke of them. It was a soft reminder of the revenge she wanted for her family.

"And Robb."

"And Rickon… Gods I miss them. So, what do you think happened to them?"

Jon knew exactly who she was referring to and it wasn't the names that they mentioned. She was referring to Arya and Bran. "I don't know."

…

Next time: Jon hosts company. The North has to defend itself.