Finally a completely original one! This was interesting, because it's exactly what I felt was missing during season seven: more intimate scenes. Jon and Sansa specifically needed a couple more, to hash out some disagreements.

3. Future Plans - Jon

They were sitting in the solar. Jon had found an old book about dragons in the library and brought it with him. The collection wasn't as strong as it used to be, but he figured the knowledge could help him in the future. Knowledge is a weapon, Jon. Arm yourself well before you ride forth to battle, maester Aemon had once told him.

Sansa had called him to the solar but she still hadn't said anything of relevance, so he just started reading the book. It wasn't an easy read, yet there was a lot of new information. A dragon can only take one single rider, and until that rider dies, no one else. He closed the book and considered that passage for a while.

"What?" Jon finally asked. Sansa's blue eyes kept darting away from his face when he looked at her. He could almost feel her brain working in silence. She clearly wanted to say something.

"Nothing." Sansa answered, but she was obviously lying. Jon could tell from the way her nose crinkled when she spoke. He grinned. "What's so funny?" She wanted to know.

He put a finger on her nose. "I know you." Her face flushed a bit. "Don't be embarrassed." She waved his hand away. "I thought we trusted each other now. Just tell me."

"Jon…" Sansa had a serious look on her face. "You need to be careful."

"What do you mean?"

"Our position isn't as secure as you might think." She said, slowly. "Most of these lords didn't help us when we needed them, and now we must regain their loyalty."

"I still don't understand why they sided with the Boltons." He had been thinking about it for some time, and it never made sense. Jon forgave them, but he would never respect them.

Sansa turned to look at the fireplace. "Fear can be a powerful motivation." Her voice was distant, as if she remembered something unpleasant.

She must be thinking of her time with Ramsay. I'm a fool. "I'm sorry." He said, moving a hand to her shoulder.

She turned her head back towards him. "Don't apologize for something you didn't do."

"You don't have to be reminded of it, though. I'll be more careful." He felt guilty now.

Sansa laughed at that, but it was a bitter laugh. "Jon, I'm reminded of that man every time I go to sleep in my bed." Jon's hand clenched involuntarily on her shoulder. "I can't escape those memories, but I'll learn to live with them." She had a determined look on her face, with her jaw set and narrowed eyes. "Don't change the subject, though." She picked up his hand and held on tight. "We need to talk about your orders." She was glaring at him now.

The way she stared made him uncomfortable. "You disapprove? You won't have to train with a sword. You'd probably look better with a bow anyway." Jon still remembered Ygritte with a bow in her hands. She was very good. He doubted Sansa had the same talent, even if she too was kissed by fire.

She pinched his hand, making him pull away. Ouch! "First of all, I'm not going to train with anything. And second, that's not what I was talking about." She said, but he saw the hint of a smile on her face. "You must've realized the lords didn't like your orders." Her face was serious now.

Jon sighed. At least I tried to lighten the mood. "They don't have to like them, they just need to obey." He had no time to please everyone. The dead are coming for us all.

Sansa closed her eyes, rubbing her temples with her fingers. "I thought you'd learned something during your time as Lord Commander." She looked frustrated. "Perhaps leading the Night's Watch is different, but when you lead lords and ladies you must allow them some liberties."

He didn't like being reminded of that. Everything he did as Lord Commander was for the good of the realm, and he was murdered for it. By my own brothers.

"I could also allow them to die, if we don't do what must be done to prepare." He turned away from her and stared at the fireplace. There was something soothing about those burning logs and the warmth they radiated. Ever since he had returned from the darkness, his body was colder than it used to be. The fire helps.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't prepare them." Sansa's voice seemed distant. He was still staring into the flames. "But you could be nicer about it. Don't expect them to simply follow your orders without question. You can give them something in return, even if it's not much to you personally, to show them how much you value their effort."

Jon had no patience for politics. It all seemed like a waste of time to him. "I don't like this crown. It weighs heavy." He said, despite the fact that he had no actual crown. Had Robb even worn one? He wondered. "I know how to defeat the enemy, but we have no numbers, no weapons, and most of our people don't even believe me."

"Some of us do believe you, Jon." Her voice sounded closer. "You won't convince the others with words, though. The more you talk about the White Walkers, the worse it gets." She put her hand on his shoulder, making him turn around to face her. "Isn't there some way to show them the threat?"

"I doubt anyone would be willing to join me ranging beyond the Wall." He replied, shaking his head.

She went quiet for a while, scratching her chin. "Wait, didn't you mention that a wight had crossed the Wall to try and kill Lord Commander Mormont?" She asked, eyes wide.

Jon immediately understood what she meant. If they could capture a wight, there would be no need for words. "I suppose we could send word to Edd about that." He said, but there were so many things that could go wrong. "Maybe I should ask Tormund to help."

"A good plan." She nodded. "And... There's something else we need to discuss." She said, avoiding his eyes.

I have a bad feeling about this. "What?"

Sansa took a deep breath. "You have to marry someone." He opened his mouth to argue, but she barreled on, "Before you say anything, let me remind you that a kingdom without an heir is exactly what Robert Baratheon left us. After he died, both his brothers fought for the Iron Throne and many suffered."

Jon didn't need the history lesson. "It doesn't matter. None of that matters if we don't defeat the Night King. Everything else is a distraction." He was growing tired of repeating himself.

She sighed. Maybe she's tired of hearing it too? "I know how you feel, Jon." He doubted that very much. "But we have to think about the future too. Once the Night King is defeated, there should be something left. You have to understand that."

He considered her words for a while. "I suppose you have a point." He conceded. "I just…" He sighed. "I never had any hopes of marriage. A bastard name was the only thing I could offer." What woman would want that?

"And now you're a king. You can offer a crown."

I wanted to describe more changes to Jon after the resurrection. I'll add some more later, but the most important is his need for warmth. This should facilitate a few future subplots.