Disclaimer: Characters and past storylines belong to the series creators and George R.R. Martin.

One must have a mind of winter... And have been cold a long time...
not to think of any misery in the sound of the wind.

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
and, nothing himself, beholds nothing that is not there,
and the nothing that is.

from 'The Snow Man' by Wallace Stevens

Jon

❄️

Even without a crown, every time someone called him 'your Grace' he felt awkward and uncomfortable. He was grateful for their acceptance, but he wasn't royalty, he was just a bastard of the North, once a crow on the Wall. He never told anyone how he felt, not even Sansa. He had not rejected it because he knew, only as King could he do what needed to be done. Half the men still didn't seem convinced in the dead heading their way, but it did not matter. The dead were coming, and the living would soon believe. And he would ensure they were ready.

Still newly appointed, he turned his attentions North and soon Winterfell and Wintertown were both full and hard at work, and every night at supper he'd invite one of his subjects to share his hearth, and he'd listen to their concerns, just as his father had when he'd been lord of Winterfell. He would not make the same mistake again, and trust blindly in the honour of men. He would know them, and be sure of their loyalty.

As for his sister, he wished things between them were more... honest. She held a lot back and she seemed to doubt him, though he tried hard not to think of it, it was difficult not to wonder why she didn't trust him. He wondered if she thought him foolhardy for charging forwards for Rickon, and perhaps she was right but Rickon was their brother and if given the chance, he would do the same again. He couldn't bring himself to regret it, though he knew he probably should.

When Edmure sent word that he'd taken back Riverrun, and would support them with the might he had left, he couldn't help but feel wary of his loyalty. The only tie that bound Lord Tully to him was Sansa, and he was only half bound to her. It was not a fealty he felt altogether confident with, but he spoke of it only the once to Ser Davos.

He knew Sansa doubted the man's loyalties, but Jon did not. He was a clever and knowledgeable man, but he was also humble and decent, and his years with Stannis only proved that he was the sort of man that remained loyal through thick and thin, to the last. Their father had respected lord Stannis, but a red woman had lead him astray and Ser Davos was not to be blamed for that.

"My pardons your Grace, but-"

"Oh not you too!" He grumbled, standing from the chair his father would sit in on occasions such as this. "We are alone, there's no need for all that."

"You are king and there is need, your men need to respect you, even in closed quarters. Meaning no offence, your Grace."

He turned away from the Onion Knight, aware that he was right but resentful of the matter regardless. Ser Davos pushed on.

"The Tully's words are 'Family, Duty, Honour' are they not?" He asked, his tone passive.

Jon looked back at his friend still sitting, and nodded, finally bringing himself back around to grip the back of his father's chair.

"I'm not his family. He has no duty to me," He couldn't help but say.

"Ay, but he's uncle to your sister. He was prisoner to the Frey's who are now dead, and he's no friend to the Lannister's. Trust that he has no where else to go."

He had nothing to say to that, and so he conceded, for the moment at least.

"Has there been any more word on what happened at the twins?" He asked still curious.

It had been an odd affair. The Lannisters had just retreated from taking back Riverrun, and yet lord Walder had been found dead, and his eldest two sons had disappeared. Lord Edmure had been freed, and he'd taken his bride and son with him. Walder's remaining children and grandchildren kept the castle for a time, but once Lord Tully returned they had quickly fallen. Now the pass and the twins, and the remaining Freys were guarded by the men of Riverrun.

Lord Baelish had suggested sending a contingency of the Vale, and himself, to 'aid' the men in keeping the castles, and while it wasn't exactly a bad idea, he thought it best to keep Littlefinger where he could see him. And so to appease the man in some way he had sent some men of the Vale, but also men from Bear Island, and though he would have preferred keeping Ser Davos at his side, there was no one else he trusted enough to handle the situation. Ay there was, but Tormund was not around though he was hardly right for the task, and though Sansa had had a point, there was no way he would risk her, not even with Brienne at her side. He'd had to put his foot down, and also remind her that there must always be a Stark at Winterfell, and he was not a Stark. His tone had ended the conversation there, but he had a feeling it was far from over. The Knight and his many men, would leave in the morning.

Ser Davos hesitated for a moment, "Ay, there has. You might want to sit down for this your Grace."

He gave him an odd look, but did as requested, as he sensed not another word would be said until he did.

"I sent a scout to the twins, to assess the situation and there's a few things he mentions. They found Walder's sons."

Another pause. "Chopped up in Lord Frey's meat pie."

He let that sink in before pressing further, as he was suddenly reminded of the story of the rat cook that Old Nan had once told him and his brothers and sisters, though Sansa had stormed out before she'd finished it, and Rickon was just a babe. He remembered Bran's expression, horrified yet utterly entranced, and Arya's, thrilled and amused. Robb seemed more interested in the reactions of his siblings than the story itself. Consequently, Jon forced himself to remain impassive, though this story had always bothered him.

He was surprised to find himself not that upset about it. Of course, the man and his sons had murdered his brother Robb and Lady Catelyn, and their men, so it did not shock him that he had no pity for them.

"What else?" He continued finally.

"No one saw, nor heard a thing. The Lannister's had all left, the only outsider's that remained were the extended help still cleaning the grounds. Stranger still, word did not spread, not until after Lord Tully arrived at Riverrun. The surviving Frey's have all sworn fealty to the Tully's. Course, none is over the age of twenty, but they'll be a changed lot after the war is done, and house Frey will be the better for it."

Though that was probably true, it felt like little consolation to losing his brother, so instead he asked, "Is that all then?"

"For the most part. There is one more thing, minor though it is. Throughout Riverrun, and especially at the Twins, hangs the banner of House Tully, and above the fish hangs the direwolf of House Stark."

❄️

He'd not been wrong. He'd barely emerged from his room the next morning, when he caught sight of her fiery red hair, and stormy blue eyes charging towards him. It was still early, but she was fully dressed, cloak and all.

"I'm going South with Ser Davos," She declared when she was standing before him. "And I will continue on to Riverrun, and see my uncle."

He couldn't help but smile, feeling the fury of the wolf in her. He turned back towards his chambers, opening the door and motioning her in.

"Not here," He said simply.

Her expression determined, she moved into his quarters, and he closed the door behind them.

"I'm no use here," She spoke before he had the chance to refute her. "And I know there must always be a Stark at Winterfell, but there is. You are a Stark, like it or not."

With a sad sigh he replied, "It is not safe Sansa. I will not allow you to be in harm's way. Not again, not ever."

"He's my Uncle, and he's a Tully. I am a Stark but my mother was a Tully, no harm will come to me, I know it. He is loyal to me, but we need to know for certain how far that loyalty goes."

He's not sure how she knew of his doubts, maybe she didn't, maybe these were her own, but still, he couldn't bring himself to accept.

"In time, perhaps. For now, your place is here."

She opened her mouth to challenge his decision, but this time he spoke before she could.

"I need you here, Sansa. We need the Vale on our side if we're going to survive, and gods know, I am not clever enough to handle Lord Baelish. With Ser Davos leaving, and Tormund at the Wall, you're the only person I trust."

She relented, though she didn't seem entirely pleased about it, "Fine. When the time comes though…"

Feeling relieved, he opened the door once more.

"I'll send you off myself," He finished for her.

"You better," She grumbled as she made her way out into the hall.

With that settled, they went down together to see Ser Davos off, along with his knights of the Vale and Bears of the Island. When Brienne approached looking ready, Sansa gave her a curt nod and the lady understood, and gave him a nod in return, and he couldn't help but feel like she was silently agreeing with him. She bowed at them both before leaving, probably to inform Podrick of the change in plans.

He felt vindicated suddenly, because it was the right decision, he knew it. It was too soon for her to whisk herself away, especially to the Riverlands. Ser Davos and his men would be a test, to see how they were welcomed. Instead, they were to ride to Riverrun where the knight would deliver a message, the sort that required to be said in person, and Jon would know finally if he was ally or not.

Sansa settled to his right when they reached the yard where the men were already readying to leave. Suddenly, as if he meant to say his own farewell, Ghost approached from behind, sitting beside him on the opposite side of his sister. The Onion Knight took them in all standing there, and he smiled. It wasn't much of a seeing-off party, but the man seemed to appreciate it none-the-less.

"Your Grace, Lady Sansa," He looked down at the direwolf sitting nearly as tall as Jon, and added as an afterthought, "Ghost."

"The might of the North here before me, a smuggler of the south. Gods be good, i'll succeed in our task and be worthy of such a send off."

Sansa smiled, and Jon's lips turned up as she spoke, "And the North is grateful for your loyalty Ser Davos. You are a true Knight, and we are lucky to have you at our side."

Davos seemed surprised by her words, but he bowed and said, "Thank you my lady."

He turned to Jon then, and though they shared a look, neither spoke. Not until he sat upon his horse, and his men did the same.

"I wish you safe journey Ser Davos."

"Your Grace," He responded with a light nod.

With a last look at Ghost, he turned his horse around and began to lead his men out. The three of them waited before they had all retreated and the gates were shut before heading back inside.

It wasn't a very cold day, the sun was shining, and when his direwolf headed towards the godswood, Jon had even been tempted to follow him and sit next to the heart tree, as so many Starks had done before him. He must have given himself away because with a shiver, Sansa reminded him that there were already people waiting to have word with the King. With a sigh, he followed her inside.

He sat at the head of the table, Sansa now to his left, and lady Brienne stood by the wall behind them, dressed full in armour and though she stood alone, he doubted anyone would try to cross her. He was glad Sansa had found her, and slept easier knowing Brienne would keep her safe.

He suddenly felt very alone. Before, he'd always felt lonely, especially when he was in the great hall looking up at his family instead of sitting next to them, or when Lady Catelyn's eyes found his... But now, he sat with the family that remained to him, and he would give anything to be the bastard of Winterfell again, if it meant he could have his family back, even Theon. He realized how lucky he'd actually been on the Wall as well, other than that initial rub with the others that had faded thanks to Tyrion, for a time, there'd been a group of men he could call brothers.

He passed the morning as he usually did, talking to those who came to petition, his sister offering council when she could. There were farmers discussing harvest, soldiers giving reports, townspeople pledging fealty and looking for shelter. This day was much of the same, and by the time he saw his last petitioner, the great hall was empty save for the guards at the entrance, his sister, lady Brienne and himself, and the sun had not yet set. Turning his attention to the lone man following the guard, he was glad he still had time to go to the Godswood.

Up close, Jon saw that the man he'd thought older, in part to the thick beard on his face but mainly by the size of him, was no older than himself. He was not bold though he was big. When he bowed and said 'Your Grace', Jon could tell he did not often deal with lords and ladies, nor kings and petitioning them, because as an afterthought he turned to Sansa and bowed, seeming to have just remembered her, and added, "My lady."

Jon smiled, and surprisingly so did his sister.

The man seemed to remember himself and said, "My name is Gendry Waters, your Grace."

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