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.
Jon IV
The trip from the north to Dragonstone had taken almost two weeks. Jon hadn't wanted to be seen and it appeared Drogon felt the same way. They had stopped at small islets along the way, which although was inconvenient, it had given them chance to get to know one another and bond. However, that lengthy journey had masked how fast and far a dragon could fly in a day, or two in this case. The seat helped a lot. Although there had been nothing to anchor him in, he modified it with a belt just so he wouldn't fall. Jon's adaption to the seat far exceeded that of Drogon's. At first the dragon seemed to struggle, wriggling about and dropping height. Jon suspected the seat irritated him, therefore when they stopped to rest for a few hours on an islet just off the coast of the Fingers, Jon altered the straps for him which seemed to calm him.
The second part of the journey was flown over land, although he did see what looked like a fleet of ships descending on White Harbour. As the skies were still dark, Jon was able to take a better look, one he wished he hadn't seen. The Targaryen flags were flying on what looked like ten ships, although these were clearly not warships. He couldn't see any scorpions like he had in the south. Jon wasn't involved with these ships which meant they were leftovers from Dany, probably Unsullied as the Dothraki hated the sea. Although he couldn't be certain, Jon estimated there would be around two thousand Unsullied aboard the ships. By nightfall the next day, the men would be marching towards Winterfell, which from his experience would be another five days to get there. Regardless of whatever his plans had been before, he had no choice but to go to Winterfell, whether Sansa wanted him there or not. He had to warn them, although they wouldn't have chance to raise an army strong enough to take on the Unsullied in such a short space of time.
It had taken almost a full day of riding for Jon to see the castle of Winterfell in the distance. Dusk had already settled, the light coming from the windows giving it's shape and location away. As he descended he knew Drogon had alerted the animals to his presence. Dogs began to bark, horses neighed and the familiar sound of a wolf howling made him smile, Ghost was already there. Jon's face fell, these people probably thought Jon was dead, and the sight of Drogon might not be a welcoming one, especially when he opened his mouth and roared, fire engulfing the skies above the castle. He heard screams from below as he descended to the courtyard, which was a bit small for Drogon, but he managed. He climbed down from the dragon and turned around, only to be hit by a sea of red hair and arms wrapped around him.
"I knew you weren't dead." Sansa whispered into his ear. "Welcome home." she pulled back and smiled.
Jon pulled back and bowed his head. "Your Grace." he smiled.
Sansa suddenly curtseyed. "Your Grace." she smiled back as Jon's face dropped, then out of the corner of his eye he saw Tormund and guessed he must have told her.
Tormund suddenly bowed his head. "Your Grace." he said loudly, confusing Jon. Despite what he was called beyond the wall, nobody used formal titles. However when he saw who was standing next to Tormund he understood why the wildling had said it.
"Your Grace." Tyrion said, his voice low and Jon suspected his teeth were gritted when he uttered those words.
"Tormund, Lord Hand." Jon nodded back, confused as to why on earth Tyrion was in Winterfell. Then he heard a low growling sound coming from behind Sansa. "Ghost?" Jon grinned as he saw the white fur of his direwolf, except this wasn't the greeting he was expecting. Ghost was baring his teeth at Jon, ready for the kill. For the first time, Jon felt fear at the sight of his direwolf. "Easy boy." Jon held his hand out, but Ghost began to look rabid, then from behind Jon came a low rumble. Jon turned around and saw Drogon lowering his head towards Ghost, growling back. Fearful Drogon would kill his direwolf, Jon knew he had to separate them, ss Jon turned to Drogon. "Daor." (no) he shook his head, and Drogon stopped growling. "What's wrong with him?" Jon frowned.
"Maybe its that big fucking dragon?" Tormund suggested.
"Jikagon sÅvegon." Jon told Drogon who took to the skies, and Ghost calmed down, although Sansa was eyeing Ghost with some trepidation.
"Your Grace." came another voice and Jon saw Horan the warg appear.
"Good to see you alive and well Horan." Jon smiled. "Did you find any boar after I left?" he asked.
"We were too scared you'd been eaten and returned to camp." Horan replied, looking at Ghost strangely. "Can I have a quick word in private?" he asked.
"I'd like to say hello to..." Jon started.
"It's urgent." Horan glared at Ghost who was still too busy looking at Jon to notice the way Horan was looking at him. Jon nodded as he and Horan stepped towards the stables. "We'll be better in here so nobody can hear us." Horan whispered. "The sound of horses will drown out what I say.
"Go on, spit it out." Jon said impatiently.
Horan put his mouth to Jon's ear and covered it to whisper. "I just tried to warg into Ghost to calm him down, there's already someone in there. Someone extremely powerful. I can't budge them."
Jon looked at Horan in horror. "Spying?" he mouthed and Horan nodded. Jon's heart dropped. First someone carrying Targaryen banners were landing at White Harbour, Tyrion Lannister was at Winterfell and a spy was warging into Ghost. All of this because he flew away with Drogon? No, Jon thought, there is more to this than him bonding with Drogon. "Can you keep trying to get inside him?" he asked as Horan nodded. "Go to your chambers, I'll get someone to sit with you while you try. How long do you think you can survive in his body without coming out?"
"A day or so." Horan shrugged. "But if that other warg tries, he'll kick me out, he's stronger than me."
"Is it the Three Eyed Raven?" John whispered.
Horan nodded. "Could be."
"As soon as you get inside Ghost, go as far away from Winterfell as you can. Go north to Castle Black. I know you won't make it, but it gives us time to close the gates and stop him coming back in." Jon told him. Horan nodded. "C'mon, lets go." he said as they left the stables and joined the others.
"What's wrong?" Sansa asked.
"Horan needs to go to his chambers. He's going to need an armed guard outside the door and someone to watch over him for the next few days. No animals allowed." he told her. "It is urgent!"
"You go wait in my chambers where it is warm. I'll make sure Horan is okay, and I'll have your chambers readied." she smiled.
"You kept them?" Jon frowned in surprise.
"Of course. I knew you'd come back." she replied.
"No animals in yours or my chambers." Jon told her glancing over at Ghost who was glaring at Jon.
"I know." Sansa replied in a way which told Jon she understood him.
Jon turned to Tormund and Tyrion. "Tormund, Lord Hand, I will speak to you tomorrow morning. It has been an exhausting few days, I wish to see my family before I sleep."
Tormund approached Jon and thumped him on the back. "I knew you weren't fucking dead. Takes more than a dragon to kill Jon Snow, King Beyond the Wall."
Jon made his way to Sansa's chambers and sat on one of the chairs in front of the fire. Her room was large and cosy, fur rug on the floor between the two chairs. One a rocker and the other a leather armchair, which was the one he chose to sit on. A few minutes later he was joined by Sansa, who looked about outside her room warily before closing the door and locking it. She walked over to the window and locked that too, a move which surprised Jon as she always liked it open. She then poured to cups of what looked like wine, although Jon expected it to be watered down.
"It's full strength. I keep it safe here for special occasions." she told him.
"Is this one of those occasions?" Jon smiled.
"Yes and no. I just think I need to ready myself for what is to come. This might be my last opportunity to get drunk." she laughed.
"Are you already..." Jon narrowed his eyes. "Have you been drinking with Tormund?" he asked.
Sansa nodded. "Just one cup." she admitted.
"Goats milk?" Jon winced as Sansa nodded. "I feel sorry for your head. Tomorrow is going to hurt." he laughed, taking a large gulp of the wine and nearly finishing it. Sansa filled it back up.
"What was that all about with Horan?" she asked.
"He says there's a warg inside Ghost, who spying on us." Jon whispered, putting his finger to his lips. "I don't know how far away he is and how sensitive his hearing is."
"I already suspected." Sansa admitted. "I was warned about the Ghost in Winterfell."
"Who by?" Jon frowned.
"Meera Reed. She also says Bran died north of the wall." she replied.
"So who's sat on the Iron..." he stopped himself remembering what Drogon did.
"Someone pretending to be my brother." she emphasised the word my, just to make sure Jon was clear Bran wasn't his brother, at least by blood. Her words stung, but he put them to one side, she was reminding him of who he was, not who he wasn't in her Sansa-like way. "She says he probably wants you dead because he wanted to warg into Drogon. Can he do that?" she asked.
Jon looked at her and nodded slowly. "I've done it a couple of times, so I suspect Bran can too. Seven hells." he ran his fingers through his hair.
"Meera told me he can't warg into Drogon while he's bonded with you." Sansa told him. "She thinks Bran might have sent the Unsullied to..." she started.
"They've landed at White Harbour." Jon told her. "Well I think it's them. I saw a fleet of ten ships off the coast of White Harbour flying the Targaryen banners. I assumed they were coming for me." he closed his eyes. "Why is Tyrion here?" Jon asked, deciding to change the subject.
Sansa put her cup on the small table between them and went to her vanity table. She opened one of her drawers and pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it to Jon. He read the contents and frowned, realising the severity of what was happening. "Who is the King trying to force you to marry?" he asked.
"I don't know yet. But I'm sure that is what he is up to. Especially when Meera warned me to beware the Ghost of Winterfell." she replied.
"Can he even force you?" Jon frowned.
"If I'm unwed, then yes he can as he's still head of House Stark, even though I am the Queen in the North. A marriage still has to be carried out by a Septon, whether it be at the Godswood or in the castle Sept. it still has to be authorised by the Faith of the Seven. If he were desperate, he might even try marrying me by proxy." her eyes closed.
"How would he know when to do that?" Jon frowned.
"As soon as Tyrion arrived he knew he could marry me to whoever he wanted." Sansa began to shake.
Jon walked over to her, knelt down and held her hands. "I'm here now, I'll protect you, like I promised. I won't let anyone hurt you."
Sansa pulled her hands away and stood up, tears were starting to fall down her face. "How? How can you protect me? Who knows what type of man he's setting me up with. He could be another Joffrey or Ram..." she stopped, wrapping her arms around her own body protectively.
Jon hated to see Sansa like this, but he knew why she was scared. She had told him some of what Ramsey had done to her, but he knew she'd kept things back, things which she couldn't share with anyone. She'd been raped and abused, Jon suspected she'd never tolerate a man touching her again, and he didn't blame her. He wanted to go and comfort her, but he knew best to keep a distance until she calmed down, so he returned to his chair.
"How about we get you married to someone here before Bran has a chance to do it himself. A man who wouldn't care about titles or Winterfell. You wouldn't need to worry about him touching you because it is a marriage of convenience. We could even do it now." Jon grinned.
"Who?" Sansa frowned.
"Horan." Jon grinned. "If we can get him to the sept before he tries to warg, marry you and then he go back to his chambers, warg away and then go back north. You'd never need to see him again and you wouldn't need to worry about him annulling the marriage. They have no interest in the Faith of the Seven up there."
Sansa smiled sadly and shook her head. "Whoever he is, he needs to be highborn. Bran won't accept anyone lower. He'll have that marriage annulled. It gets harder when the other person is highborn as it can mean offending other houses, which is why highborn marriages are rarely annulled." she shook her head.
"What about your cousin, Lord Arryn?" Jon asked. "I could get him here within two days, before the Unsullied arrive."
"How do we know he's not supporting Bran? Anyway, he was suckling Aunt Lysa's breasts until she died. I saw it. I think he would want a proper marriage." Sansa made a face of disgust. "I'm not saying that I'm wanting a handsome prince to come and rescue me, but he has to be someone..." Sansa stopped and stared at Jon.
"What?" Jon frowned, not liking the look on her face.
"That's what Meera meant." Sansa looked excited.
"What?" Jon looked at her confused.
"She said Tyrion was to try and make me give you up to the Unsullied, that you would try to steal me crown." Sansa said.
"Why would I try and steal your crown?" Jon couldn't keep up with a tipsy Sansa's ideas.
"No, you aren't trying to steal it. I know that. But Tyrion was going to try to convince me otherwise, but he won't get a chance to." she shook her head. "Bran wants Drogon, and for that he needs you dead. He wants me married off to a southern Lord. He's using the Unsullied to lay siege to Winterfell to force me to give you up." she told him.
"Are you sure it's a siege and not an attack?" Jon asked.
Sansa nodded. "Bran wrote to me and told me to fill the crypts." she said.
Jon knew that was what her mother used to say when they were having guests and might need extra food. It was a sarcastic comment but it was what was supposed to be done during the winters to prevent them running out of food.
"But he can still marry you by proxy and bring the Lord here." Jon frowned.
"Not if I'm already married." Sansa smiled.
"Ah you've thought of someone. And who would the lucky Lord be?" Jon smiled, glad she was finally thinking straight, despite the alcohol.
"You!" Sansa grinned.
Jon looked at her in horror. His sister or cousin, who hated him as a child was now proposing they marry to prevent her from being married to someone else. "What?" he whispered.
"Meera said I needed to make sure you weren't handed over to the Unsullied. I need a good reason other than you being my cousin. If you are my husband then nobody will expect me to give you up." she said. "You said they've only just landed at White Harbour, that gives us a few days to call up the local bannermen. How many do you think there are?" she asked.
"Probably about two thousand." Jon shrugged. "How does us getting married solve the problem?"
"Because the north will only fight if I ask them. They have lost a lot and need a very good reason for me to ask for them to rally their bannermen. Asking them to do it to save my husband is a reason they would understand." Sansa explained. "You marrying me gets rid of Bran trying to take Winterfell. It solves both of our problems."
Jon sighed, he could see what Sansa was thinking with her suggestion. However it did mean his dreams of living out the rest of his life somewhere east and maybe having a family was over. But he did have a dragon to protect and as much as he hated the idea, it made a lot of sense.
Jon looked up at Sansa in defeat. "Call the septon." he sighed before putting his head in his hands. What had he got himself into?
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