Got a little depressed after watching a video and reading an article about endgame, particularly Jon and Arya. It was always a possibility, but it wasn't one I was aboard with, but I really wish I was, so I wouldn't be disappointed. I long to pine for Jon and Arya, but I just can't. Despite them being reincarnations of Rhaegar and Lyanna- which is sweet and all, but I can't get my head around a man choosing a girl he had a normal sibling relationship with, and a girl who does look like his biological mother. They think about each other all the time, you can pick out so many references. It would feel like something I'm aboard with, the epicness, but blah! I'm not. I'm too set in my ways. It's too hard to jump ships, too hard. I associate Jon's relationship to Arya to be like Ned's relationship with Lyanna, that of siblings.

Soaring into the void that was their dreams, Sansa didn't dwell on her past troubles. Currently she was dangling 20ft above tree canopy, scary, but her canine grip was strong, and Jon's boot tasted good. But never mind that. Where was this dragon taking them?- And how much longer can she hang on, until her jaw began to ache? She could see Jon in agony above her, her weight was adding to this, the talons dug deep. A whistley wine escaped her. Sorry, Jon.

She studied the dragon above them, it was bigger than the one that flew over Winterfell. It was darker and what little light there was- revealed a bluish hue to the beast, though that could have been just the moonlight.

They were alarmingly high, luckily all Sansa could do was look up, they were level with the top of the wall. She felt her canines slip slightly, and Jon eyes widened a little. "No...Noo, just a little longer!" He warned frightfully, he was trying to bend his leg up to get her closer, so he could grab her scruff, except she slipped some more. "Ah! No no...Shan't do that."

They were approaching the dream wall, and they hoped it was as solid as everything else in the weird illusion. They came over it, and Sansa's teeth finally slipped off completely, she felt panic, then the falling sensation, followed by an icy landing. Jon and Bran sighed in relief. The dragon dropped the boys on the wall too, they landed in a heap on the slippery surface, not far from the wolf.

Bran being on top had to scramble up first. "He left us?"

"Yeah..." Jon watched the dragon fly past to the other side of the wall. He turned to his 'younger sibling', who in turn clocked him immediately, and their smiles mirrored one another. "It's good to see you." They hugged, now it was time for a proper reunion. "Sansa said you were here, I never saw you."

"I don't come here often. It must run in the blood for us all the meet like this...not the best place, there are other places, why do you come here?"

Jon kept his arm around his 'cousin', not wanting to let go- even if he was an illusion. "I think it's some kind of purgatory, you see Bran..." That sobered him, he wet his lips to gather himself "...I died, I was murdered by my own men."

Bran face opened in horror, before scrunching up, about to cry. "You're dead?! You're dead?!"

The elder boy grabbed him by both shoulders. "I was brought back to life by a witch, the same witch that told me I was half Targaryen, that's why I told Sansa, we were most likely cousins." He soothed, and the younger lad still looked upset, he could make out his wife shuffling awkwardly on her paws, and when he looked to confirm her mood, she gave him an intense stare. One could guess she was thinking about their marriage and Bran's reaction. "Which brings-"

"-Then how can you be dragged back from the other side?- Did you see the afterlife?"

Jon heard his wife murmur in worry, she obviously didn't want him to panic the boy. "The gods weren't finished with me, so they brought me here to wait, but every time I dream, I come back." He echoed his wife explanation.

Bran broke free from his 'brother', and motioned to his sister. "Did you die?"

"Nah Bran, she can't be killed, she's dreaming too, back at Winterfell."

He pivoted, nearly slipping on the ice. "Winterfell, you're back at Winterfell?- That's great!" He remembered something vital. "What about the Ironborn and Theon?"

Jon and his wife shared a look, he didn't know a lot...in fact you could say; he knew nothing. The elder boy smiled to himself. Makes a change. "We took back Winterfell, it was taken over by the..." He didn't make eyes with his wife. "Boltons." But he heard her endearing whistley whine, and he reached down and pet her. "I was proclaimed King by the men who helped..." Bran's proud smile faded slightly, it irked Jon. "They pledged fealty...it's-"

"-Did you legitimize yourself as a Stark or a Targaryen?"

The wind bit at his small body, and the question was tricky to answer since he got the feeling Bran wouldn't like either answer. "Well I was about to legitimize myself as a...Stark." He was testing the waters now, gauging his new cousin's reaction.

"-But you didn't..." He shuffled from foot to foot, smiling absently. "But regardless, how was Sansa not named as head of the north?"

Jon shoulders sunk slightly. Bastard. Not a trueborn. He rewet his lips. "Well Sansa is-"

The wolf gulped.

"-Still head of the family, head of Winterfell...until you get back." He made sure he said that. "But I have told my supporters I have Targaryen blood, so I'm probably going to legitimize myself as such, I'll have to, but they do think I'm worthy enough to hold the north."

"They were willing to get behind you?" His little cousin was trying to be gentle. "I know you were raised a Stark, I suppose since you won Winterfell- it makes sense...of course they would get behind you. But still...you alienate some of them, since you are...technically a foreigner." He tried to smile, it faltered, and he returned his attention to the wolf. "Are you alright with this?"

Sansa managed a nod. She was still Queen in her own right, with or without marriage. She yawned with stress when she realised what else had to be revealed, she sensed her husband stand closer to her. Oh gods.

"There is something else we need to tell you." He was very grave, which was only right, how do you tell a brother- you married a sister?..Well cousin? Sansa suddenly sensed the conversation wasn't going that route, Jon reeked of despair, as well as reluctance. Oh little brother. "Bran, sit down."

"What is it?" Their brother paled, he staggered. "No, what is it?...Please get on with it."

Sansa whined at him. Sit down, Bran. She even pawed at his knees, and it worked, since he sat on the ice.

The King took a deep breath. "Rickon has died."

Bran looked blank, devoid of any emotion, it reminded Sansa of herself. It looked awful, but what was to come was worse. His face scrunched up, but his voice remained normal, with a smidge of anger. "No no no! Rickon is well...he is with Osha and...Shaggydog...he is fine. No!" He pointed at the ground in determination, his voice edging towards panic. "He's with the umbers!"

Jon shook his head and squatted beside the boy. "They betrayed us." His hand sort his shoulder, but the younger lad recoiled.

"No!" Bran scrambled up from under his cousin. "Until I see a body, until I see it in a vision...he is not dead! You're wrong!"

This was awful, this was the worse way to deliver the news. "I saw him die. We buried him in the crypts, Bran." Further despair dispersed among the 3 of them. "I'm sorry." Jon was attempting another hug, but Bran was spinning out of it, in complete denial. Sansa jumped onto him, her back paws skidded and she ended up falling onto her back, she recovered, and tried to paw at his chins. Sorry sorry sorry sorry.

"Our family is getting so..." Bran faded away, from their dream, leaving the King and Queen on the wall, looking into the space the small boy filled, before acknowledging they still had each other. A frightening squawk rung in the air, the dragon was returning, swooping low, about to make a skid landing on the ice.

Jon woke with a start, a loud snort erupted from him, waking up the other occupants in the room. Sam and Melisandre where perched near one another on chairs, both jolting from their slumps. The king's eyes unfogged, and he recalled he wasn't in his bedchamber when he had fallen asleep, but the room he was in wasn't the Maester's laboratory. He wasn't slumped in a chair, but in a dingy bed, laying flat- "Where is this?"

Sam stood to evaluate him, poking his flawless cheeks. "Maester's bedchamber, your grace." His friend flinched at being prodded. "You're looking worn and pale."

The King sat up in the bed, Sam had to take a step back. "You moved me?"

"Davos helped, a bit, your head was at an odd angle." He did a strange pose, Jon supposed that was a demonstration. "You were gone for nearly a whole day."

"What?!" Jon flung his legs off the bed and settled them on the floor, the dream had lasted a day?- What a waste! "Sansa...is she up?"

The red priestess breezed in, flicking her hands out of her sleeves, so she could touch him."Davos and Podrick are with her, she wasn't awake when we came to you...I don't know if anything's changed."Her hand adorned his cheek, and it was not welcome. "But I'm sure she'll be useful regardless." Jon stood, nearly knocking both his companions onto the floor. He couldn't believe what came out of this bitch's mouth.

"If she's not awake this'll all be for nothing." He stormed out, he wasn't going to fanny about giving explanations. Servants dove into alcoves and nooks to get out of his way, it took him merely minutes to get to his chamber. He came in and saw his wife, lying where he had left her, he had put the sleeping babe into bed. But this time she was conscious and talking to Davos. Podrick was the first to acknowledge the King's presence.

"Your grace." And he left, it was more of an announcement to the others that the King had arrived. Sansa looked up at him, conveying too many emotions for a woman her age. They stared for about a few seconds, before the King broke that contact to talk to Davos. "Rough day I hear."

The old gent tried to smile. "The castle hasn't been the same without your moody presence, Sam told us what he had been told, not sure I'm comfortable with it all."

"We're preparing for a war against monsters...and sharing dreams bothers you?"

The bed jolted as the King sat on it next to his wife, who appeared in mourning, her puffy red eyes focused on him. "You really shouldn't use essence of nightshade, it's a frightening elixir." Their hands met, and they both clasped each others. "You could have had too much."

"I trust Sam, and with good reason, I'm here unscathed." He sandwiched her hand, rubbing it to create warmth. "You're cold."

Davos inclined to the fire. "It went out, sorry, I wasn't paying attention, I'll get Podrick...I'm sure he's not far." He did a sort of skip out the room.

Leaving the King and Queen to their own devices. They both reared up for a hug, and wrapped themselves in each other's arms. They remained that way even when talking. "My brother might not return to that world, especially if he's in denial. Do you think he blames us?" She uttered without her natural speaking voice, for it came out above a whisper.

"He doesn't know the circumstances, and he wouldn't blame us regardless...do you think he blamed us for the other deaths...I don't think so." He rasped into her ear, clutching at her tighter.

Little did he know Sansa always blamed herself for her father's death. She felt the tears rolling down her cheeks, and didn't want to pull back because of them, she didn't want him to see. "Perhaps we should never tell him about us, that might kill him."

Jon drew back slightly then, his face staying close. They were consuming each other's air. "That'll never do, we can't keep it quiet our whole lives."

She felt bad for suggesting that, and dipped her head. "Yes but, our family would be even more critical than people who hardly know us. They would be constantly putting themselves in our shoes, reminding us that if it were them...they would find it...disgusting."

Jon hadn't yet released her from his hold. "I don't think they'll find it disgusting." He was getting irked.

And Sansa had to explain herself. "I'm not saying we are, this isn't my opinion on the matter-" Her voice returned to its normal natural volume. "We're all close, they were so close to you...and I am their actual sister, they'll see it like...I don't know-. " She shifted cagily, trying to find an adequate example. "-Bran and Arya getting married...like together." The idea made both of them cringe, and they made a clicky noise together. "See?"

"We're not like them, though." His face got all sappy, and heated, she imagined behind those lips, his teeth were about to grind. "We've...dabbled." He added quite cheekily, and he gave her a little squeeze to remind her she was still in his hold. "Oh...and by the way..."

"Hm?"

His eye-line dipped, she figured to the mouth, he was too close to see boobage. "Why did you escape again?"

Oh hell. Her arms dropped, implying she wanted to pull back when explaining herself, he obliged grudgingly. "I heard a familiar noise, it frightened me." She yanked the covers from her legs to inspect the damage, and her husband looked as sheepish as ever. "This." She emphasized it, like it was an important exhibit.

"That." He indicated to the mess of skirt, and rubbed the back of his neck. "...Was an accident." He tried.

"How?"

"I was trying to move it, and it ripped."

"Why were you moving it?"

"It was in...It looked like...you were getting warm in it...so out of courtesy and comfort, I shifted it." Jon nodded, believing his own tripe. "And I failed...and I'm sorry." The last bit came out fast and devoid of any feeling.

She should be mad, or at least concerned. But she felt like laughing, he was deadpan but so confident with his blatant lies, so much so that she pitied him- and all insatiable men. And that was quite a fete. Her face remained neutral, and she nodded to the tripe. "Right, I see."

"No...really, I'm sorry, I got caught in the moment. I'm really sorry." He meant it that time. "But could you just talk to me next time, talk to me as we are going along, so you don't slump on me again." It sounded like he had nagging ache, his voice was exasperated. "I feel like we're building up to...something, and then fall flat." His honesty was good and sweet, but she didn't need reminding she was behind on her duties as a wife. "I swear Sansa, my balls are going to drop off."

Alright that wasn't necessary. "Well...don't get...worked up." She coyly scratched her ear, trying to soothe herself. "Don't let it...you know."

"-You're joking, right?" He was incredulous, his face still puffy from the nap. "You can't do that, and expect a man not to get worked up. It's like you're pulling on it and then tucking it back in before the big finish."

"Oh gods, don't be so casual talking of such things!" She caught a glimpse of the open doorway, and went over to shut it. "That's one way of telling your subjects our union is void."

"It doesn't have to be, gods be damned!" That burst out of him like a ruptured dam, and she wasn't going to approach him when he was like that. "Is this another reason?!- You're hoping eventually I'd tire of it, and we'd just get an annulment?!"

"No!" She protested. "Dear husband-" She sounded mocking. "There is plenty of time to validate our marriage."

"Give me notice, please." He rumbled, pushing his back against the headboard. "I'm in agony."

"Well don't mind my agony." Her childish tone was back. "You are very forgetful."

"I remember! I remember everything." His voice was very bitter. "But we could take comfort in each other."

"This is nothing to do with comfort, Jon, this is about you, and heirs." Sansa sighed and pushed herself from the bed, and her dear husband looked forlorn as she was departing his grabbing range. "It can be fixed." For second Jon thought she was talking about consummating, but she was gesturing to her dress. "-But it'll look odd, I'll have to put an embroidered patch to mask the repairs." She sifted through the skirts, and reached her leg effortlessly, she turned frigidly away from her husband, because he blatantly looked at the leg, and rumbled. "You got all the way through the petticoats!" Raising her voice. "Gods, Jon!" She flapped at the hanging material. "Terrible."

"You've never looked better."

"Shut up!"