This story is inspired by An Affair In Stages, by justadram, a story also posted here. The setting is after the books, in my own 'ending' for the series. The War for the Dawn ended in about 302, two years after ADWD. The Seven Kingdoms are no more, instead each region having a king or queen. This story takes place around 309 AC. Jon IS NOT A TARGARYEN, instead being, truly the son of Eddard Stark and Ashara Dayne. The pairing will be JON/SANSA, and yes, its incest. Disgusting, yeah.
Disclaimer: I do not own ASOIAF or its adaptations. GRRM rules all that.
There will be more chapters to come, but this one is a start. Enjoy!
It had been years since Jon felt anger. He couldn't even remember the cause, maybe it was Ramsay, or Petyr Baelish. His life had become peaceful since the war between men and the Others had ended.
As the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Jon Snow managed to bring the order back from its shambles. Although no wildling enemies left, the fear of something coming from beyond the Wall once more was enough a reason for it to survive.
He had help, however, from many men coming from all over Westeros to take the black, some willingly and others forcefully. Ser Brynden Tully was the head of the Shadow Tower and had been a tremendous help, even in his old age. On East-Watch-by-the-Sea, the commander was Dagmer Cleftjaw who had a way of confronting pirates, as he had been one.
On Castle Black he had Sam, Dolorous Edd, Thoros of Myr and others. They were few and the work was harsh, but Jon was hopeful. They could make the Watch strong again. They had to. And since The Seven Kingdoms reverted to being, truly, kingdoms, Jon was less worried about it. There would not be a war for the Iron Throne, anymore.
But now here he was, in Winterfell, on his father's chambers, being asked a revolting favour from his sister. To give her child.
"No." was all he said. He hadn't really listened to her reasons, after Sansa explained the reason behind her inviting him for a private talk. He thought he was wanted for company, as family.
"Jon." She said softly. Her eyes were pleading, and he could see that it took her courage to ask for something like this from him, it wasn't a jape or some drunken spur. Sansa was certain of what she wanted, and that made Jon feel guilty. He should listen to her, even if his answer wouldn't change.
"Why?"
"I told you why." She said, sighing. "Winterfell needs an heir. Arya will not marry or bear children, Bran can't and wouldn't either. I'm the Queen in the North, of Winter, but I'm still a woman. Winterfell belongs to the Starks, and that will not change." she finished firmly, but Jon could sense that she was worried.
"I'm not a Stark." He said, immediately regretting it. "Fuck! No, that doesn't matter. I'm the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, my vows keep me from fathering children, you know that." It wasn't that either. "I'm your brother. This is madness."
"You are a Stark." she answered simply, running out of patience. "You are a wolf."
"You can't be serious." He said, ignoring her statement. He had accepted his fate; he was Ned Stark's bastard. He knew his mother's name now, but it didn't matter. He was a Snow, like many others, and that didn't bother him anymore.
"I am." she took a step forward, to prove it.
Jon sighed, tired. Pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes, he let himself speak. "Father would think it absurd; your lady mother would be wroth; Arya and Bran wouldn't agree with it either; can't you see that it is a bad id-"
"Father and mother are dead!" she yelled at him, and Jon was shocked. He knew his sister had masks most of time, thanks to what she was taught by Cersei, Littlefinger and others. But he never saw her yell like that, after meeting again. "They died and left us behind, so now we are the ones making decisions. Their memory is important, but so is their legacy. And I intend to keep it alive."
The Lord Commander was at a loss for words. The favour was madness, he could never lay with her, he knew that. Even if she demanded it or even imprisoned him, Jon Snow would not give his sister a child. This would be a battle of resolves, and he would win.
After excusing himself to his chambers, Jon couldn't sleep well. He stayed up for most of the night, waking up slightly late on the next morning. Having breakfast on his room, the Lord Commander decided that avoiding the Queen of Winter was the best idea for now. He was angry still, and she should have some time to think again, after yesterday's conversation.
He decided to help train some of Winterfell's guardsmen, the younger ones. Brienne of Tarth was the one responsible for such a task, but Jon convinced her that he could teach well, having done it before.
The Winterfell staff was scarce when they finally had peace again, with many servants being new and young. The cook was no longer Gage and the smith was Mikken no more. Jory and Ser Rodrik were dead, but Brienne was doing a fine job as both positions. Jon recommended having someone else become the Master-in-Arms, so the Knight of Tarth could focus fully on protecting and tending to Sansa, but she was adamant about it.
"There's no one better to train the green boys now, my lord. All of Winterfell's best fighters died on the War for the Dawn or before, and I can do both just fine." she had answered. Jon didn't question her skills, but her face showed signs of exhaustion from time to time. He apologized and didn't mention it again.
Among the students assigned to him today, one was a girl. She had just arrived, and Brienne was training the older ones, claiming to not be exactly good with children, although Ser Podrick seemed to disagree.
The girl was named Tess, a pretty common girl, dressed in boyish clothes. Her hair was up in a ponytail, light brown locks falling to her face, partially obscuring the scowl she was wearing. She listened and did as told but seemed extremely dissatisfied with Jon, so he asked her why.
"I want to be trained by Ser Brienne Knight, not you. M'lord."
The answer amused him, managing to have him chuckle. He explained why he was the teacher and said that Brienne had much work on her shoulders, so he was helping ease it a little. He also explained her that there was no need to add 'Knight' to her name.
"I can guarantee you that I can teach you some things. If you listen and learn, Ser Brienne might even be impressed. She likes people who follow their duty, and I will tell her how well you do yours."
The smile on the girl's face told Jon that he probably said the right things. Soon she was beating up the boys quite easily, while Jon urged them to also learn from their fellow training partners.
Jon walked round them, focusing only on the task at hand, until his eyes locked with shining blue ones. He stopped for a moment before resuming his class, though now stealing glances to where she was. Sansa watched the entire time, although from time to time she would attend to some request from the staff. The attention was making Jon's skin hotter, and the feeling wasn't appreciated. The training was cut short, and the kids were sent home to rest. The girl gave him a smile and ran towards where the Knight of Tarth was. He waved her goodbye before facing his sister, from afar.
The steps he took were slow and steady, as if trying not to frighten her. When he was close enough, a woman appeared beside the queen. He waited for her to speak, and recognition came moments later. Beth Cassel was the daughter of Ser Rodrik and had become something close to a head maid inside Winterfell, managing most of the women's work, even the older ones.
"Lord Roose Ryswell just arrived, together with Wanton Dustin. Now it makes four, together with Gawen Glover and Eddard Umber. It seems that a Karstark is also coming, my lady."
Both women seemed unhappy about these visitors, especially Beth. She made a face mentioning Roose and after questioning about where she should put all these men, complained about how unsubtle they all were, if not hungry.
Jon didn't understand why so many important people were gathering on Winterfell, but he guessed that they were envoys for high lords and Sansa was planning something important, though he didn't press for more information.
When his sister dismissed the maid, the latter nodded and turned, finally looking at him. Her eyes lit up strangely before whispering something to the queen's ears. Sansa shook her head slightly and that brought a scowl to the Beth's face. She then glared at him before leaving.
Jon stood in front of Sansa Stark with his shoulders tense, while she had a relaxed posture. The silence endured for a while, until he asked about how diplomacy with other kingdoms were going. Such information wasn't common on ravens sent to Castle Black.
"Uncle Edmure is easy to please, if anything else. He is easily swayed by his vassals, so I am giving some counselling. He is prideful and sometimes dislikes my comments, but soon comes around."
Jon heard from the Blackfish that his nephew wasn't fit to rule as king, because of his kindness and inexperience ruling. It seems the man didn't exactly want to own a crown, but on the Great Council he went on and on about how the Riverlands had suffered on every war and that he didn't want any more suffering for his people. In the end, they made him king also.
"Asha Greyjoy and Arianne Martel are allies, I would think. Although none would come to my aid, both think it's good that I am queen, instead of Bran." Jon could understand why. They were the only queens beside Sansa, and all were very tired of following commands and orders from men.
"What about Tyrion?" the Dwarf King of the Westerlands had not gotten his throne easily. Most wanted Martyn or Tyrek Lannister to rule, while others wanted another house to take control, stating that the Lannisters were the ones who messed up the balance since Robert took the Iron Throne. Tyrion became king by promising to rule seven years, and then the western lords would decide if he should keep the crown or another would have his place. Witty and smart as always, Jon could feel that he would keep his seat until his death.
Sansa chuckled. "He is doing fine it seems. This is his last year, but he seems confident and cheerful. Maester Hugo has been updating us on how the Westerlands are doing, and it seems they are faring well. King Tyrion is popular, and most high lords are profiting well under his rule. It is likely that he will be king for more years to come. It seems that he is even looking for a high born lady to be his wife."
"Is he now? I imagined that weddings would be best avoiding, for him."
"He is. But he needs an heir. He will do what's necessary." She was staring intensely at him, and Jon heard the hidden message. He cleared his throat and asked about the Vale, the Stormlands and the Reach.
"Ser Davos is doing wonderfully in helping young Edric rule, most lords are completely loyal now. It seems that he also has gathered all of Robert's remaining bastards and given them aid. Even Arya's friend, Gendry. Though not all are under his roof, such as Mya Stone."
Jon Snow and Gendry had met a few times, especially during the War for the Dawn. He worked as a smith to infuse many weapons with dragonglass. Ser Davos was the one to tell him about his father, and the boy didn't seem very glad. He was stubborn and didn't believe it at first. After Arya introduced them both, they became friends easily. He was now working on Storm's End, under his brother. He doesn't accept the surname Waters, though, and is reluctant to accept Baratheon as well, just as other lords feel it is a mistake to bestow him with it. King Edric, though, insists.
"Ser Davos and Tyrion are so different, yet so good with words. I wish I had such skills, it would've spared me some stabs." he japed, to which Sansa didn't laugh. She wanted to talk about it, Jon knew. But speaking outside was a bad idea; he didn't want anyone to know that the Queen of Winter was considering incest to keep her family on the throne.
She stayed silent for a while, and he waited. Sighing, she continued telling him about the remaining kings.
"The Reach just ended their war, with House Tyrell as the rulers. The food situation seems bad still, but I've been told King Willas is listening carefully to the Citadel on what to do about it. Some still want to back Dickon Tarly or Erren Florent, but nothing to be worried about."
When asked how he felt about his father's claim on the throne of the Reach, Sam responded with one of his usual shrieks. The thought of his father as king had him in fear, but when the man died, Sam seemed to think that Dickon wouldn't be a bad ruler, stating that his mother did her best to raise a kind son.
"And the Vale?"
She sighed. "Sweetrobin has become more and more reckless lately, his obsession with me has not subsided, though he now wants to have many wives. Bronze Yohn is doing his best to have other lords and ladies appeased, but it is not easy. I'm afraid they might depose him, or even murder." Sansa spent many moons disguised as Alayne Stone, the bastard daughter of Petyr Baelish, in the Vale. Robin Arryn was expected to die, but he has been steadily recovering from his abuse of drugs, although mostly physically.
"You sure worry about him" Jon stated, although he didn't intend offend her.
She didn't take it as a statement, but rather as him criticizing. "He IS my cousin. I've taken care of him before, even if it wasn't an enjoyable job. Lysa and the Eyrie household messed up his mind, and Petyr had the maester mistreat him with sweetsleep and other drugs. He is broken now, and it isn't his fault." She finished, scowling.
Jon nodded. He knew she misunderstood his intention but explaining himself now seemed like a waste of time.
Her face lost its tension and she closed her eyes before sighing again. "Things are rough for everyone. I feel glad that northman are simple minded and easy to please, mostly. Though they can be rather stubborn at times."
Her eyes bore into his again, reminding him of the blue skies of summer. He thought of his own, the storming grey of winter, and suddenly he felt his chances of victory dwindling. But like Eddard Stark, Jon Snow could be as cold as ice when needed, something Sansa had forgotten.
"Yes, they can."
Winterfell had hosted many grand dinners and parties before, Jon knew. The castle was as old as the Stark name and even in recent history it had seen kings' arriving and rising, festivals and weddings. The staff could always manage food and drinks enough for all invited, with enough diversity for the Starks to be known as great hosts, though now things were different. The North had suffered greatly, and that affected the harvests as well, with the harsh winter destroying much of what was growing.
The castle's staff was doing its best, no one could deny that, though supper was much more modest than before. Jon didn't want to attend it, but Sansa insisted. It seems that the envoys present wanted to speak with him.
The wine was too sweet and the bread too hard. His cup was never empty, thanks to all maids present. He decided to stop drinking altogether, until Benfred Karstark, grandson to the late Arnolf Karstar and eldest son of Arthor Karstark, sat beside him. He had horrible scars alongside his face, with only half of his left ear, and some teeth missing. He was taller than Jon, and appeared strong, with broad shoulders and a thick neck. He had long dark brown hair and a beard, and certainly enjoyed talking.
"Father has sent me here four times now, and it won't be the last. I told him these scars of mine ain't what a queen is looking for on a man, but he dismisses it. I know my chances are thin, but after seeing these others, I'm somewhat hopeful." he told Jon. Maester Martyn had been sending letters to Castle Black informing of all lords who were circling Winterfell, waiting for the right chance to offer a marriage deal.
"I recall you having brothers." Arthor Karstark had become the commander of the Karhold army, after Stannis used his father as a sacrifice for R'hollor. They were not exactly willing allies, but Stannis wasn't exactly a man who most enjoyed following, anyway. His sons jumped on Karhold succession quite a bit after that, though still behind Harrion, the current lord and Alys Thenn, his sister.
"I do, three of them, aye. But Hother is wed and Jonos is dead. The youngest is only ten and one. My betrothed died, so he thinks I'm best. 'A Karstark is a Stark, we are kin.', he says, but I don't think so, truly." He downed another cup and asked for more, also filling Jon's cup.
They agreed on it. Karlon Stark had lived hundred years ago, and so much blood has been mixed up with the wolf's, it was foolishness to think that the Karstarks were more kin than the Umbers or Manderlys, who had Stark women marry into the family recently.
"You should say somethin' to yer sister. These younglins want the crown and won't stop until she chooses one. They've nothing to lose."
His advice swirled Jon's mind the entire evening, with his attention being shifted from all of Sansa's so-called suitors. He watched Roose Ryswell whisper in her ear all throughout supper, even hearing some of his boastings when he got too excited. She replied courtly, though her eyes didn't match her smiles.
Gawen Glover asked for three dances, performing well in all of them. He was about to ask for the fourth when Beth Cassel crossed his path, took his hand and showed him a bright smile. They danced four times after that.
Wanton Dustin was extremely shy for someone who was trying to court a lady, especially a queen. He almost never looked her in the eye, and rarely spoke more than a few words. Jon imagined he didn't come out of free will, instead being forced by his liege, Lady Barbrey Dustin. Sansa engaged in conversation with him, more than once. Doing most of the job, she would make sure that he had part it in, even if just to answer her questions. Wanton relaxed after it, but the others tensed.
Eddard Umber was the heir to the Greatjon, although his father was still alive and strong. He was just as tall, yet certainly more handsome. He had his face shaved clean, with long black hair in a ponytail. He discussed swords and armours with Ser Brienne and would always offer Sansa wine. His manners were certainly better than his fathers, but Jon could see the remnants of the low cunning of Jon Umber. This one was the most ambitious, it seemed.
Benfred Karstark drank and laughed, told stories and made fun of himself and the other suitors, who did their best not to act offended. Sansa, however, was amused and usually chuckled at his japes. They seemed much more like friends than lovers, and Jon felt respect for the man. His sister deserved to have a good time, not fake courtesy.
"Is the dais so interesting, my lord?" asked a voice beside him.
Beth Cassel was dressed quite prettily, with a long-sleeved dress, dark green in colour. It pushed her breasts up and showed quite a bit of skin. The look was unusual for her, but Jon didn't stay long enough to see her on such events, so he guessed the attire was normal. She was wearing a smirk, also, while looking at Jon pointedly.
"No." he answered.
The smirk died and gave way to a frustrated look. She sighed before serving herself some wine, taking a sip. She locked eyes with Gawen and waved, a wink soon following. When she turned back to the Lord Commander, it changed into a glare.
"Have you danced yet, my lord?" she asked sharply, which Jon answered with a shake of his head. She smiled again and nodded towards the dais. "Queen Sansa is eager to, I can tell. But these lords are all too handsy, especially Gawen." she said.
Jon arched an eyebrow. "You gave him four dances." he pointed out.
She rolled her eyes before calling a maid over. She whispered something in the girl's ears and took an olive from her plate. She ate it, taking the olive stone and placing it on a plate over the table. She sipped again on her wine before speaking. "He's enjoyed Winterfell's hospitality more than thrice. The Glovers are powerful vassals, yes, but the man can't take a hint. She has no eyes for him."
Jon was watching Robett Glover's eldest son, whose face showed that maybe too much wine had been consumed. He accepted to have another fill when Benfred offered, though the man was laughing while doing so. Sansa was trying to stop Karstark, but she seemed to be having fun.
"She has no eyes for any of them." Jon could see she spoke true. Sansa engaging in talks with all of them, yet didn't seem particularly glad about it. Neither did Ser Brienne, who clearly despised their attempts at seducing her queen. Sansa's eyes eventually found his, blue on grey. Jon Snow could feel his body tense under her gaze, and that was absurd. She was his sister, same blood. There was no reason to fear.
They kept their staring contest until a gasp caught their attention, followed by the sound of places kissing the floor. Ghost had entered the Great Hall, unannounced as always, and had scared a poor girl. He didn't pay her much thought and headed to the dais. His eyes, though, were on Jon's, until he reached his destination: right beside Sansa.
Smiling, she scratched the top of his head and welcomed the direwolf. He seemed content with it, sitting down and yawning. The visitors went tense, even carefree Benfred Karstark, watching the huge animal standing so close. The music resumed and slowly the noise from talking rose again.
When he faced Beth Cassel, the smirk had returned to her face. She excused herself politely and stood up, walking towards the kitchens. Jon emptied his cup and focused solely on the musicians. They were singing romance, song after song. It had been Roose's notion, he knew. Jon had seen him whisper things to the singer and passing the man a gold coin.
Movement caught his attention, and a jar pouring wine for him appeared on his vision. The maid left too quickly, but he protested anyway. His focus went back to the music and he recognized the current melody. It was called the Black Rose and told the story of Margaery Tyrell and her attempts at becoming queen. Jon knew little of such tales, but it painted the girl as the most innocent maid in history, and he doubted it.
Once more, he noticed someone beside him reaching for his cup, and this time he was fast enough. He grabbed their wrist, stopping the person.
"I don't need more wine, thank you." He told the woman. Though he noticed too late that she wasn't holding anything, and her grey dress was too pretty to be a common girl's. When he looked at her face, a smile was on her lips.
"I can see it, that's why I've come, to rid you of such responsibility." said Sansa Stark, the Queen of Winter. She sat down as soon as he let go of her and adjusted the chair to stick closer to him. Her eyes dart to the dancing floor, watching some maids have her fun.
He saw Benfred take a younger girl to dance and swirl around loosely, laughing all the way, with the lass mirroring him. Gawen Glover was beyond saving, being escorted by some of Brienne's underlings. Roose and Wanton were speaking together while glancing in their direction. Eddard Umber had retired to his chambers.
The silence was unnerving, so Jon decided to break it. "The castle seems much more lively than last time I visited.".
"You didn't stay for long; you never do." she said softly, still not looking at him. It was true, though. As Lord Commander, Jon has many things to attend to, so spending much time going back and forth between the two castles was problematic. However, most of the black brothers had little problems with it. Sam and Dolorous Edd do well running things in his stead, and the respect Jon has earned from fellow night's watchmen gives him such liberties, yet he rarely makes use of them.
"The Wall is where I belong."
Facing him then, with her left hand on his arm, she said something Jon has wanted the most as a child. "You belong here as well."
And though Jon could sense that she meant something else, he chose to let silence take over, enjoying his sister's company and the soft singing of the bards. Maybe he should stay another day or two, he thought, and soon night gathered and Ghost followed him back to his chambers.
I can't tell when the next chapter comes, so wait on it, please. If you have any ideas or complaints, be it on the text or the plot, send those to me.
Thank you for your attention, until next time.