Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Ice and Fire Novels, Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon TV shows. However, I decided to have a little play around with the characters. I do not earn any money from writing these stories, it is for my entertainment and is something I like to share.

Sansa VIII

Sansa should be grieving, after all she'd just miscarried her first babe, yet other then the first couple of hours, she had shed no tears. The dragon egg calmed her and the arrival of Rhaenys had changed everything. Sansa knew how blood magic worked, a death must pay for life. The little dragon she was carrying was living and breathing in front of her. The baby was a piece of her and Jon, especially as he had stood in front of Drogon when he burned the flames to hatch the little one. The grief had turned to joy, especially as the Maester had confirmed she and Jon would be able to try for another soon, although that was more likely to be a bit tricky as Rhaenys had taken to sleeping between them in the bed at night, although that would be a very temporary situation as Sansa expected Rhaenys to want to start breathing fire quite quickly, which meant laying on a bed wouldn't be the best of ideas for a dragon. A more suitable fireproof area was to be sought, one which was a good size and away from Maester Wolkan, Rhaenys was only two days old and she'd already grown four inches. This was not a matter which Sansa had brought to the small council, as the Maester would be attending. With everything else, Sansa trusted the Maester, however when it came to dragons and dragon eggs, he was not allowed to have anything to do with them. Tyrion was the expert she and Jon deferred to, although Jon was able to get help from Drogon, which if Sansa had been asked a week ago, she'd have described as strange. Now she understood that the bond a little more, she didn't question it.

Despite them winning the battle against the Unsullied, Dothraki and Ironborn, it had raised more questions and offered a greater degree of uncertainty than the comfort of winning did. Could they be certain Bran was behind it? Could it be someone else who held a grudge against the North, although as Tyrion had explained, the only person he could imagine with that amount of military might would be Daario Naharis. Tyrion claimed although the man loved Daenerys, he also loved the power she had given him, meaning war was not a likely option. Also, according to rumours, the Iron Bank was supposed to be paying the Unsullied, and Bran was paying the Iron Bank huge sums of money due to the debts Cersei had run up. Tyrion's suggestion was Bran had offered the north to the Iron Bank to repay the debt, using the help of the Ironborn to back up the power of the Unsullied and the Dothraki. For Sansa, the latter option had looked like the most plausible one. Sansa hadn't discussed this matter with anyone else other than Tyrion, she wanted to run it past Jon when they were alone, which was why she hadn't raised it at the small council meeting.

After their discussions regarding the Promised Prince, they moved onto to the planning for the trip to White Harbour, which needed to be made as quickly as possible.

"I think it would be better if we combine the trip to White Harbour with our visit to Pentos and possibly Volantis." Sansa suggested. "If the visit to Pentos is not required, then we would have no need to take Strygga and Ranny."

"Ranny doesn't sound like a very Targaryen name." Ser Davos frowned.

"Her real name is Rhaenora." Arya told him, much to the surprise of the others for knowing this titbit of information. "We talked about it." she shrugged. Sansa smiled, there was a tiny piece of hope inside her that Arya would find that certain person in her life who she could spend it with. Someone different, who shared her interests, although Arya's desire to be constantly on the move might prove tricky.

"Very Targaryen." Ser Davos agreed.

"I'm going to see how she deals with our way of life. I appreciate it will be somewhat different to her upbringing in Pentos and her life north of the wall, but if she is indeed a Targaryen, raised by a Targaryen Prince, she will have certain traits, which I will be able to spot, although I suspect she will have some difficulties. There will be things the Freefolk have no clue about, but a highborn will automatically know." Sansa explained.

"Don't start her sewing." Arya shook her head. "After most of her life spent with the Freefolk, she'll be more than a rusty needle." she laughed, although Sansa glared at her sister.

"I'm not going to make her sew." Sansa shook her head. "Etiquette, poise, language..."

"I would expect her to know how to speak some form of Valyrian." Tyrion suggested. "It is spoken in Pentos and her father was a Targaryen, it should be her first language, but it is easy to fall out of practice." he admitted.

"Whichever it is, whether Ranny is a Targaryen or not, we must visit White Harbour to make the deal with Lord Manderly." Sansa said. "I would like for Ser Davos to reclaim his ship and set sail to White Harbour without delay."

"I will need to take the sailors, well what's left of 'em with me." Ser Davos said.

"I understand." Sansa nodded. "It will take a couple of days for us to decide whether Ranny is who she says she is. Then, if she is not, Jon, Tyrion and I will fly to White Harbour to proceed with the negotiations. Then we can set sail for Volantis. If Ranny is Rhaenora Targaryen, I would like her and Strygga to join us, where we will visit Pentos first, then Volantis."

"What about Drogon?" Tyrion asked.

"I do not know whether Jon would want Drogon with us. It would prove who he is, but he cannot travel with us, he must take a different route, otherwise we will look suspicious." Sansa turned to Ser Davos. "Would you mind if we try and swap your ship for one which belongs to Lord Manderly? There would be less people looking for one of his."

"I was goin to suggest that meself." Ser Davos grinned. "His ship is a little bit too... noticeable."

"If your men set off now, how long would it take to get to White Harbour if you were to return to your ship first?" she asked.

"On foot? About a week." Ser Davos replied.

"How many sailors do you have left?" Tyrion asked.

"Fifty or so." Ser Davos replied.

"And how long would it take to reach the ship on horseback?" Tyrion asked.

"About three days, but I don't think all of the men can ride." Ser Davos told him.

"If the ones who can ride set off today, then Jon can carry the rest up in two days time to meet with you." Tyrion suggested.

"The men would 'ave either shit themselves or they won't be fresh. If you pardon my language Your Grace." he bowed his head towards Sansa. "Princess." he nodded towards a laughing Arya. "But aye, it will speed the process up somewhat."

Sansa nodded in acknowledgement to his apology. "The less trips Drogon has to make the better. I have already spoken with Jon and he suggested we try to send as many men as possible on horseback. How many do you think can ride?" she asked.

"About twenty Your Grace." Ser Davos replied.

"About two flights to meet up with you." Sansa nodded. "If you wish to go and gather your men. I will arrange for the horses to be readied."

"Yes Your Grace. I will meet with the King at the ship in two days time. Now I will take my leave." he bowed.

"Thank you Ser Davos." Sansa smiled as the Master of Ships left the room. "I think that is all for today, I would like to prepare for our visitor. After all, she is a Princess."

The next few hours were spent organising the chambers for Ranny's visit and a small feast. Sansa kept looking out of the window longingly towards the skies in the desperate wait for Jon and Drogon's return, although she knew he would land too far away for her to see him arrive. Sansa's other main job was to take turns with Arya and Tyrion in looking after the dragon eggs. The need to keep Maester Wolkan in the dark was imperative, it was also very difficult considering what had happened the night of the hatching where they had placed all seven eggs on the pyre. Fortunately Maester Wolkan was only aware of the two of them. What Sansa and Arya had discovered was if a bond existed, the rider might be drawn to the egg like the both of them were, although admittedly the magic might work differently now that Drogon had breathed fire on the eggs and Ranny wasn't pregnant with a Targaryen. They hadn't tried to bond Strygga yet, they wanted to meet with Ranny first.

Finally, as dusk fell, Sansa heard the door to her chambers open, and there stood Jon, smiling and looking as handsome as ever in his new black Targaryen dragon riding leathers that Sansa had made for him, her heart skipped a beat, simply knowing he was safe and by her side, was all that was needed. In the few short weeks they had been married, he had become her rock, helping her carry the many burdens she faced. Jon had also made her feel like a woman, something she had never expected to experience once again, except this time, she could enjoy that feeling. When Jon walked over to her, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, she felt safe and loved. This was what she enjoyed the most. Outside and amongst her people, she was the strong ruler of the North, but behind closed doors, with Jon, she could be a person, a woman without a crown and be able to relax, something which Sansa now knew was the most important part of ruling, being able to relax and rest. Not that she got much when Rhaenys began to screech just as Jon kissed her. They both looked towards the little dragon and laughed.

"I think she's jealous." Jon smiled. "Do you think she wants a kiss, or at least a tickle." he asked as he walked over to the dragon. As he did, Rhaenys screeched and blew out a tiny puff of smoke.

Sansa frowned. "I thought that would take longer. According to Tyrion's books, dragons don't usually blow smoke or fire until they are a few months of age, Rhaenys is barely a week old."

"We need to talk to Tyrion and Arya in the morning." Jon said. "It is late and I want a nice hot bath." he stretched, then rang the bell three times for the servants, to tell them a bath was required for Jon. They needed the distinction because Jon liked his bath hotter than Sansa, and he didn't fill it quite as deep, for when the water began to cool, Sansa would join him. "What is in the chest over there?" he asked looking towards a large wooden box on the floor next to Sansa's chair.

"The dragon eggs. I can keep them warm without Maester Wolkan searching for them." she told him. "How was your trip to Castle Black?" she asked as they waited in their solar for Jon's bath to be filled in their chambers.

"Long, cold, miserable." Jon sighed. "But Ranny agreed to come with us. Magatha showed her to her room."

"There is ale, cold meat and fruit waiting for her. As well as a nice warm fire." Sansa told him.

"She'll very much appreciate it. I doubt she's experienced real comfort for twenty five years." Jon said.

"What is she like?" Sansa asked. "Did you know her before?"

Jon shook his head. "I didn't. She seems nice enough, very different to the other Freefolk, she likes to keep to herself. She still doesn't fit in properly."

"Do you think she is who she says she is?" Sansa asked.

Jon nodded. "She always wore a hat to cover her hair. And she feels the cold more than the other Freefolk."

"Pentos is warm, so I suppose it is to be expected." Sansa shrugged.

"I think it is her dragon blood." Jon told her. "The moment she took her hat off, she looked like how you imagine a Targaryen to look like."

"Like Daenerys?" Sansa asked and Jon nodded.

"She has that same look. Her eyes are so blue, they look almost purple." he told her. "She walks like a highborn. She can read and write, she spent most of her time in the Castle Black library, reading about dragons. I don't think her father told her much other than that her great grandfather was the King and he certainly left out the dragons. Drogon liked her straight away."

"If she gets Drogon's blessing, Ranny also gets mine." Sansa laughed. "Who am I to argue with a dragon?" she walked over to Rhaenys and tickled her chin. "Now what are we going to do with you?" she asked, as the baby dragon belched out more smoke. "I've made two appointments. I know we are not ruling Westeros, but now we are potentially looking to defend our lands we need to be sure the right people are in place to take care of specific areas. I named Ser Davos as Master of Ships and Navy. I named Maester Wolkan as Grand Maester." she said.

"That's an obvious choice." Jon laughed. "We don't have any alternatives."

"Arya wants to be Mistress of Whisperers." Sansa told him.

"I think she ought to be Mistress of Laws and Justice." Jon offered. "Judge, jury and executioner. She would have fun."

"I could combine both roles. I think it would reduce lawlessness." Sansa smiled.

"Should I have Tyrion as my hand?" Sansa asked. "Or Master of Coin?

"Hand?" Jon replied.

"I agree. Will you be my Master of War and Dragons?" Sansa asked.

"Aye, I suppose." Jon nodded.

"So, as Master of War and Dragons, did the Dothraki damage Eastwatch?" Sansa asked, absent-mindedly tickling the baby dragon's chin.

"I don't think they landed there." Jon said. "They either landed up at Weeping Water or The Last River."

"Isn't the Last River where Ser Davos left his ship?" Sansa asked.

"Yes, why?" Jon replied.

"I've sent him to it, so that he can sail to White Harbour, like we agreed. He took fifteen men earlier today, then we are to take the rest on Drogon as you and I discussed last night." Sansa told him.

"Seven hells. If they found it, they'll have burnt the ship." Jon said. "I'll fly out in the morning." he yawned as the bell rang to say his bath was ready.

"Do you want me to wash your hair?" Sansa asked as they walked into their chambers, leaving Rhaenys on her perch.

"I'm hoping for a full wash. I promise to return the favour." Jon smirked.

"I was hoping you'd say that." Sansa replied as Jon began to undress for his bath.

Half an hour later, Sansa was in the bath with Jon, her back to him and between his legs, her head resting on his chest as they sat and watched the fire burn. Sansa was so relaxed, she was almost sleepy, however she had thoughts which never were far from her mind.

"Do you think we should go to Braavos and talk with the Iron Bank?" Sansa asked.

"Why? Are there debts you haven't told me about?" Jon asked.

"No!" Sansa laughed. "About the Unsullied. We've killed their army, they might not be too happy about it."

"They won't tell us who their paymaster is." Jon absent-mindedly drew circles on her arm. "Or why the Unsullied were sent."

"I don't understand why they didn't just send a Faceless Man to assassinate you. That is what I would have done." Sansa said. "And why did they wait until Drogon came back?"

"They started preparing for war long before Drogon sought me out. Jon told her. That was three separate armies which requires a lot of coordination. It was moons in the planning. I think the original plan was scuppered by Drogon bonding with me."

"Clever Drogon. He timed it perfectly." Sansa sighed in contentment.

"Aye he did." Jon brushed his beard up against Sansa's temple and placed a light kiss on it, while his right hand slid under the water and began to draw circles around Sansa's bellybutton, this time a little more purposefully.

"Tyrion is convinced you are the Promised Prince." Sansa said, not wanting to break the mood, but she knew they had to talk about it. "He's been reading those books you brought."

"Maybe he reads too many books." Jon whispered, his hand slowly travelling down from her bellybutton.

"He says the long night wasn't long enough, and that it was just the beginning, according to Aegon's prophecy." Sansa's tried her hardest to concentrate on what she wanted to tell him, as she felt his fingers between her legs, sending heat through her.

"It was too fucking long for my likin." Jon growled.

"He wants to visit some high red priestess of Volantis." Sansa told him, lifting her legs slightly and parting them to give Jon greater access. "If you are the Promised..." she started.

"I suppose we could listen to them." Jon sighed as his fingers became more purposeful.

"According to the prophecy, you'll need to sit on the Iron Throne." Sansa told him, although she was losing her concentration on the conversation.

"Do you want me to take the Iron Throne? Jon whispered.

"No." Sansa turned her head and kissed him. "It would mean I'd have to share you. And I'm feeling quite selfish right now." he kissed her again and smiled. "But if it is the right thing to do by the people of Westeros, you should."

"I don't want it." Jon stared at her as she turned around to face him.

"I know." Sansa kissed him.

"But if it is the right thing to do..." Jon stopped as Sansa kissed him.

"Shh. We'll decide when the time comes. For now we just defend our home." Sansa whispered and kissed him, wrapping her hand around his manhood.

"Are you well enough now?" Jon asked.

"What do you think." Sansa smirked.

The next morning, Jon flew off to check on the ship Ser Davos had left anchored up at the Last River, while Sansa was finally introduced to Ranny, who was clearly not one of the Freefolk. Her appearance was most certainly what one would expect of a Targaryen and she had the highborn demeanour. At the same time, her life with the Freefolk had rubbed off on her. She wasn't quite as refined as Sansa or the late Margaery Tyrell, but she could see the woman had been raised as a Lady, and like Jon, she was happy to believe she was the daughter of Prince Maegor, which was why she invited Tyrion to join them. Sansa decided he would be a good person to discuss with them what and where they should go, which was why they were sat in Sansa's solar, drinking wine around the fireplace.

"Where did you live in Pentos?" Tyrion asked.

"In a great walled manse." Ranny replied. "It overlooked the sea. It was beautiful." she sighed. "Our neighbour was a magister called Illyrio Mopatis. He was very handsome, but happily married." she blushed.

"Illyrio was handsome?" Tyrion laughed. "When was this?"

"I left the year of Robert's Rebellion." Ranny replied. "He was young back then. I suspect he is either dead or looks very different now."

"I had a raven from him only three moons past." Tyrion told her. "Just before I came to Winterfell. He was doing well. I was buying wine." he lifted his cup. "We are drinking it right now."

"It is good wine." Ranny smiled, her eyes drawn the the wooden chest next to Sansa's chair. "Thank you for your kindness."

"How many siblings do you have?" Tyrion asked.

"I did have four brothers and four sisters, I'm the youngest." Ranny told them. "Three of my brothers died of the pox before I left as did two of my sisters and my mother. " she lowered her eyes.

"I'm sorry." Sansa said sadly. "What happened to everyone else?"

"One of my sisters was sent to the red temple in Volantis, the other to Braavos, although I know not what happened to her. My brother went to Tyrosh before my father even asked for him to leave. It wasn't a surprise, my older brother was always, wayward and ready for a fight, not that he was any good at it." she added as Tyrion and Sansa looked as each other with mutual interest. They were already planning a trip to Volantis and the red temple.

"And your father?" Tyrion asked. "Where did he go?"

"I heard he travelled to Asshai. It was the Magister Illyrio who helped me escape north." she told them.

"How old were you?" Sansa asked.

"I was twelve when I left Pentos." Ranny told them.

"Why with the Freefolk?" Tyrion asked.

"The ship was supposed to go to White Harbour, but was blown off course in a huge storm. We ended up at a terrifying place, it turned out to be Hardhome." Ranny sighed.

"Would you like to return to Pentos?" Tyrion asked as Ranny tried to keep her eyes away from the chest next to Sansa but failed.

"What is in there?" Ranny asked. "I can hear a noise." she frowned. "It isn't trapped, but it wants to get out."

"What colour is it?" Sansa asked.

Ranny closed her eyes. "Purple and blue." she replied.

"It will be released when the time is right, when it is safe." Sansa told her.

"Before that, we have a small trip to make. We need to buy some wine from an old friend." he grinned.

"You're goin to Pentos? To see Illyrio?" Ranny's eyes opened wide.

"No, we are going, including you." Sansa said. "And then we are going to Volantis, we need to meet with an old friend of Lord Tyrion's." she raised her cup. "To old friends." she said.

"Ranny nodded. "To old friends." she raised her cup and smiled broadly.

Tyrion raised his cup. "To old friends and damned good wine." he then proceeded to drink down the entire cup and slam it down on the table. "To which, I think we are about to run out of, therefore we must make haste."

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