Notes: Hello, everyone!
I am so absolutely sorry for the long stretch without posting anything. I accidently deleted a huge chunk of this work (fortunately many chapters in the future) and it put me in a bad funk, and I couldn't write anything for a looong time. I'm still not over it, but anyway.

I would like to address something here. I've never read the Narnia books, and I guess it shows when you read the story. But, as I said to another person, this is how I write and I am very happy with the story. I know many people look for cannon and a faithfull portrait of the characters they love when they read fanficion, and that's fine. There are great fanfics out there that give great attention to detail and the cannon, but is not one of them, and it's not going to be.

I am a fluff kind of girl and I do things my way. And I do understand that for many people this is a deal breaker, and it's perfectly fine. What I love about fanfiction -the reason I read it and write it -it's the opportunity to fullfill that secret wish that cannon didn't, be it a ship that didn't happen, being another solution for a problem. I like to think we read based on common desires to see the same situations.

This fanfic is probably not reccomended for people that are trully invested in cannon or a extremely precise portrait of the name characters, and I'm sorry about it. But I like the way it is.

Anyway. Thank you all for the kind comments, and I hope you enjoy this new chapter.

Chapter 9

"Well… This is nice and cozy." Arya commented.

Sansa gave her sister a look. This wasn't the moment for wise-cracking.

Susan gave Peter a look that made it clear it was time to open his mouth and start apologizing. Fortunately, her brother might be arrogant, but he knew the moment to step down from his high horse.

"Your Grace…" He looked Jon directly in the eye. "I apologize for the way I acted last night. I have already apologized to Greval, but I would like to extend my apologies to you and your family."

Jon had been unusually quiet since they entered his solar. Yes, the King in the North was commonly a quiet man, but this was different. Susan had the impression he was avoiding looking in her direction.

"What did Greval say?" Jon asked.

"He apologized too." Peter informed the King. "He said he didn't know about…" Peter cleared his throat. "He promised he won't say it again."

"I think that was more Tormund's doing." Lucy chirped from the side.

"Likely." Arya agreed. "I saw him talking to the lot of them last night."

"I accept your apology, Lord Peter, and I expect to never see such behavior again. Especially inside the great hall during festivities." Jon spoke, his voice firm and serious.

"It won't happen again." Peter gave him a brisk nod. "Thank you for your understanding, Your Grace."

Jon's eyes finally turned to Susan. "And you, My Lady?"

Susan arched a brow. "What about me, Your Grace?"

"Would you like to have any say in the situation? Do you require Greval to apologize to you?" He wanted to know.

"He already did." She informed the King. "It was unnecessary, though."

"Unnecessary?" Peter almost screeched. "He…"

Susan gave him a look. "Do we need to have that conversation again?" She asked calmly and he shut up immediately.

"He didn't mean any harm." Susan continued. "It's a custom of his people and he didn't know about my history."

"Why you didn't tell me?" Sansa asked softly.

"I don't like reviving that moment." Susan said simply. "It wasn't lack of trust that made me keep the story from you, Sansa. You're a dear friend to me. But that night… It's not one that I can easily talk about, because it brought many repercussions to me and none of them were pleasant. I would eventually tell you about it, but…"

"Not like this." Jon cut her. His voice was firm, but gentle. "You do not have to give us any explanation, Lady Susan. I truly hope we can all see past that."

"Trust me, Your Grace." Susan sighed. "I'm eager for that."

XxX

Jon walked to the bridge, because he knew that Susan could be found there sometimes. He wanted to talk to her.

He still wasn't sure of what he planned on saying, but he felt like he had to. He saw in her eyes that old pain and he just wanted to…

What?

What did he think he was going to say to her? And why did it matter?

Jon arrived at the bridge, but Susan wasn't there. He took a deep breath –not knowing if it was disappointment or relief –and stopped to observe the people on the courtyard below.

"Did you want to talk to me, Your Grace?"

He turned to the voice and there was Susan, wrapped in a black cloak with fur on its collar. The black surrounding her only seemed to heighten the white of her skin, the flush of her cheeks and the blue of her eyes.

Lucy had once told Jon that Susan was considered the fairest woman of their country, and men wanted her attention and poems were written praising her beauty. Jon could understand why.

Sansa was a gorgeous woman, and so was Daenerys, but both of them seemed to pale in comparison to the Gentle Queen.

Was that what the Prince that stole her saw? A beautiful woman, a treasure that he had to possess? Did he ever stop to think about her feelings? Did he care that she was scared, repulsed?

Did he care about her at all?

Lucy had said that Susan had killed the man herself. Jon almost wished he was still alive and that he could find way to go to Narnia and kill the piece of shit himself.

How could he have dared to hurt her?

Jon finally realized he'd been staring at her without saying anything. "I beg your pardon, My Lady?"

"You wanted to talk to me, right?" She offered coming closer.

"How do you know that?" He asked confused.

"You had that look in your eyes." She made a vague gesture with her hand. "I knew you'd want to say something to me."

Jon arched a brow, divided between feeling amused and a bit insulted. "And what am I going to say to you?" He challenged.

"I don't think you know exactly what you want to say." She offered with a small smile. Then she became serious. "Please, don't say you're sorry, or that you wish you could get your hands on him."

"Why?" Jon asked.

"Because I don't want your pity."

Jon snorted. "I don't pity you, My Lady. At all."

Susan arched a brow. "No?"

"No. I'm slightly scared of you, I admire you, I feel annoyed by you sometimes, but I never pity you." He grumbled, his eyes on the courtyard. "It'd be an offense to your strength and dignity for me to pity you. Actually, I pity the fool who tries to patronize you."

He turned back to her and Susan was looking right back at him, the most peculiar expression on her face. She had a smirk –a small one, just the corner of her lip tipped –and her eyebrows were high on her forehead. Jon wasn't sure if she was shocked or amused by what he'd said.

Maybe she thought he was the fool.

"What?" He asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

"You just surprised me." She told him. "I don't think we ever had a conversation this long since we started living here."

Jon would like to say she was wrong… But she wasn't.

"I had no idea you thought that of me." She told him gently. "Well, I knew I annoyed you…"

Jon chuckled. "I shouldn't have said that one."

"I like it." She teased. "It helps to keep my pride in check. None of my suitors ever told me I was annoying."

Jon coughed. "Well, I'm not your suitor." He reminded her unnecessarily.

Susan was giving him a full on grin now. "You aren't?"

The minx!

XxX

Susan kept her posture perfect as she walked down the hallways. She nodded at some of the maids, waved at the children, and even stopped to talk to the Maester for a minute. She kept her chin high as she walked and a smile of pure politeness on her lips.

As soon as she was alone in a corridor, she grabbed her skirts and hurried along. She barged inside Lucy's room, closing the door behind herself, leaning against it, like she was trying to prevent an intruder of coming in.

Lucy, who'd been sitting by the fire fixing a dress, arched a brow at her sister. "Are we under attack?" She asked amused.

"I did something stupid." Susan groaned, letting her head fall against the wood.

"You? Oh my, the end must be near."

Susan glared at her sister. "I'm serious, Lucy."

Lucy chuckled. "All right, no need to get all grumpy." Lucy put down the dress. "What did you do?"

"I insinuated to the King that he was a suitor of mine." Susan groaned and walked to Lucy's bed, falling face first against the mattress.

"What?" Lucy shrieked, then she got up and went to her sister. "Susan, repeat that!" She hit her with the closest pillow. "Actually, tell me this whole conversation! Word by word."

Susan moaned dramatically, but she still did as Lucy asked, because she needed help and she wasn't about to go to Sansa to ask about Jon. It felt strange.

"Oh my!" Lucy squealed delight. Her hands were covering her mouth and she was bouncing on the bed. "This is flirting, Susan! You were flirting with Jon.!

"I was not!" Susan protested immediately. "I was merely jesting and now I'm concerned he might…"

"Oh please." Lucy rolled her eyes. "If you had been jesting you wouldn't be concerned. You are now because you let something show. You wanted to tease him."

"Not in the way you're suggesting!" Susan insisted.

"Exactly that way, Sue." Lucy replied patiently. "You are a master of playing with boys and men. You know exactly what to say and how to say it. So don't come around telling me it was a mistake or a misunderstanding. You said what you wanted to, now you're just embarrassed."

"I hate you." Susan grumbled against the mattress.

"Only because I'm speaking the truth." Lucy spoke easily.

Susan took a deep breath and sat down. "I shouldn't flirt with him."

Lucy arched a brow. "Why?"

"Lucy…"

"I'm just asking." Lucy insisted.

"He's the king, we're strangers here… We don't… We are not a fit." Susan finished lamely.

"How would you know?" Lucy challenged.

"Don't start." Susan warned her sister.

"Susan darling…" Lucy's smile was full of mischief. "You're the one who started something."

XxX

Sansa didn't pray anymore. She never got the habit back, even after they returned to Winterfell.

She still went into the Godswood, though. She knew some people believed she went there to pray to the Old Gods because of her father, but the truth was much more selfish: she went there because no one bothered her in the place.

It was the same reason she used in King's Landing, and she felt ashamed of doing so on her own home, but sometimes she just needed a few minutes of peace.

Sansa couldn't believe in Gods anymore, but she was sure she deserved some peace and quiet.

However, this time, as she entered the Godswood, she could see a person there already.

It was lord Peter.

She froze where she was and just watched him for a bit. He was standing in front of the Heart Tree, contemplating the face in the bark. He didn't seem the mind the cold or the soft falling snow they were having that day. He just stood there, his blond hair covered in flakes, his eyes on the tree.

Sansa couldn't see the rest of him, because he was wearing a heavy gray cloak, but he seemed relaxed.

Reflexive.

She was about to leave him alone, when he turned and saw her. "Lady Sansa." He gave her a smile, not the charming one she was used to, but a smaller one.

"Lord Peter." She nodded at him. "I didn't mean to interrupt you."

"You didn't. I was just contemplating the Gods of your country." He indicated the tree.

"My father adored the Old Gods." She informed him, coming closer. "There is a Sept for the New Gods. Father had it built for our mother."

"To which one do you pray?" He asked.

"None."

She could feel him looking at her, but he didn't comment.

"You have something in your mind." She commented, because it was obvious.

"Just something Susan said." Peter admitted.

She arched a brow at him and Peter chuckled. "She reprimanded me for my actions last night. Not because of the fight, but because she had to hold my hand over something that happened to her."

"I understand the feeling." She spoke softly.

Peter gave her a look from the corner of his eyes, but when it became clear she wasn't about to explain more he just looked at the tree again. "So I came here to think, and the more I thought, the more I felt like the worst brother in the world. That made me worry I was feeling sorry for myself again… And now I'm not sure anymore."

Sansa snorted. "I see you have a lot on your mind, my lord."

Peter turned to her with a smirk on his face. "Are you mocking me, my lady?" He teased.

"I would never." She grinned back at him for a minute, then became serious. "Whatever your sister feels, it's hers to be felt, but…" She hesitated for a second, before turning fully to him. "You have a lot of faults, too many to count, really…"

"So gentle, my lady." He snorted.

"But nobody can ever accuse you of being a bad brother." She concluded, ignoring his interruption. "You're attentive and kind to them."

"We fight." He indicated.

She shrugged. "Siblings always do. Arya and I could barely keep a civil conversation when we were younger. It doesn't change the fact that I love her and I'd kill anyone who hurt her. And the same goes for you."

This time, when he smiled at her, it was gentler. "Thank you for the kind words, my lady. They mean a lot to me."

"You are welcome, lord Peter."

He looked up, like he finally noticed the snow. "Can I escort you back inside?"

"I think I'll stay a bit more." She replied politely.

"Is that your subtle way to say I should go so you can be alone?" He teased softly.

She arched a brow at him. "A lady shouldn't be alone with a man."

She was -mostly -teasing him again, but Peter became immediately serious. "Lady Sansa…" He cleared his throat and tried again. "My lady, I know I may not be the best person to recommend myself, and I do know that I come across as arrogant more often than not. I also know I've been flirting with you lately, and that I might have been a bit too forward in more than one occasion. I assure you that it was never my intention to cause offense."

He took a deep breath. "That said, I do hope you know that you have nothing to fear from me. Ever. I know that it's easy to make promises that you do not intended to keep, and only time shows us who we can really trust, but…" He looked directly into her eyes and Sansa felt trapped in a way that went beyond physical. "I hope you know that I'd never hurt you in any way".

Sansa had not expected that. At all. She felt at loss on what to reply to something like that. She wasn't stupid -despite what many people may still think -she knew he wanted her. The only problem was that she wasn't exactly sure how.

If she knew what he wanted, it'd be easier to defend herself from him. However, she didn't think he was interested in her title or her name, there was no dowry -the North was barely scrapping by as it was -and she wasn't sure if he lusted after her. He didn't look at her like she was a piece of meat, like he could imagine his hands on her body.

It was something else, and she was scared as hell of what it could be; she couldn't let herself believe that there was anything left.

"Lord Peter…" She cleared her throat. "I'm not sure what you want of me." She might as well say it and wait for his answer.

"I don't want anything that you don't wish to give willingly." He replied honestly. "If I had it my way I'd be asking to court you immediately."

Sansa opened her mouth, ready to set him straight, but Peter raised his hand gently. "I'm not asking, though." He assured her. "I know there's much I don't know about you, and you don't know me as well."

"So what do you want?" She demanded, tired of trying to guess, trying to understand.

"I want time." He finally said. "I want to get to know you, I want to show you I'm not terrible. And I'm not asking anything in return."

"I don't believe you." She spoke, taking a step back.

"I know." His smile was a bit sad, but it was as if he'd expected that. "I can't ask you to trust on nothing but my word, as much as I wish you would."

That knocked the air from her, and Sansa was left -once again -without knowing what to say. This was the thing she hated the most: not having the control of the situation. It reminded her too much of darker times, when she needed to be worried all the time, when one wrong word could cost her everything.

Peter unnerved her because his words always made her confused and hesitant to answer, and she hated it.

She hated how much she wanted to trust him, and be that girl again; the one that believed in dreams, and that things would be fine eventually.

She hated that he made her want to hope again.

But she couldn't hate him.

"I can't give you what you want." She said.

"You can't give me time to know you?" He asked gently.

"That's not all you want. Don't make it sound like it is." She would not tolerate him lying to her.

"You're right. I did say I would court you if I could." He admitted. "But I respect you a lot, Lady Sansa. I hope you know that. I'd never press a suit, if you don't wish one. I'd like for you to get to know me better, and -in time -decide if you'll allow me to court you or not."

"And you're saying you would be fine if I said 'no'." Her voice made very clear how much she didn't believe it.

"I have two sisters." He reminded her unnecessarily. "I know how I want them to be treated by men; I want them to be respected. I never again want to see one of them going through what Susan did. I'd never treat a woman like that, because I pray every day that no man treats my sisters badly." He took a deep breath. "So if you never change your mind, if time passes and you still don't want to be courted by me… I'll respect your wish."

She arched a brow. "Even if you don't want to?"

His grin wasn't a sad one this time. "My Lady, if you so wished I'd fall to my knees now. Should I?" He opened his arms and bended one knee, like he was preparing to fall.

"No!" This startled a laugh out of Sansa. "I have no need for that."

"My feelings are mine to deal with." He assured her. "You're not responsible for them."

"But you want me to be." She indicated.

"My heart is yours for the taking." He bowed graciously to her.

She sighed. "You are incorrigible."

"But I only speak the truth." He offered.

Sansa gave him a look. "Jon will never agree."

"Good thing I'm not asking him." He gave her an innocent look. "Does that mean you're considering it?" There was so much hope in his voice that Sansa decided it was time to stop this conversation.

"I think you pressed your luck enough for a day, Lord Peter." There was a bit of warning on her voice.

"That's fair enough, my Lady." He bowed again. "Thank you so much for letting me speak so openly to you. It means a lot to me."

Sansa nodded at him and watched as he left.

What did she have in her head?

Notes: And there it is.

I hope you enjoyed it.

I am trying to write more, so if you reado one of my other fanfics ("Kiss with a fist", "Those Stark Boys" or "If I close my eyes") know that I'm working on them as we speak. I hope to have something soon.

Let me know your feelings!