"Every time I come here..." Jon said, looking up the high ceilings of the bedchamber they shared. "I realize why there's so many cliches about Northerners."
"Why?" Sansa asked, not looking up from the trunk she was looking through.
"We're so simple in comparison."
"Do you want us to have some stained glass put up when we return?" Sansa asked. "Or perhaps some diamond chandeliers?" She smiled at her own joke, and grabbed at the dress she'd found at the bottom of the trunk Yara had given her. She was already growing hot in the thick fabric of the travelling dress she'd been wearing.
"It's just...so different." Jon said, marveling at the gardens below the window. "I don't like it." he finally decided.
"Well, you might have to get used to it." she sighed. "Will you help me with this?" she asked, crossing to him and turning around.
"You know you could have a maid do this." he said, helping her loosen her bodice.
"I don't do that at home." she said. "And are you saying you don't enjoy it?" she asked as she felt a thumb running down the curve of her spine.
"I'm not saying that." he said, turning her round as the rest of the dress slid to the floor. She rolled her eyes, stepping out of it and bending to scoop it up.
She went to the vanity, looking at her face. Her hair was loose, wild around her face, and she hadn't painted her face since the last feast they'd had, ages ago.
"What a lady I am." she sighed, sitting on the stool. She found a drawer to be outfitted with some powders and paints, brushes and combs.
"What are you doing?" Jon asked, and she looked up, as he appeared in the mirror behind her.
"Blending in." she sighed.
He looked at her in the mirror, at the curves of her face and the subtle glow of her skin. He hair fell in it's usual waves down her bare back, and tumbled over her chest like spilt wine. He used the back of his hand to brush away some of it from her neck, and kissed her there. She looked up, and her blue eyes were shining at him, a smile behind them.
"That's impossible." he whispered, sending chills down her spine.
"We don't have time." she chastised. "We're expected in the throne room in half an hour."
"Sounds like time to me." he said, his hand sliding around to the top of her thighs, and dipping between them. She let her eyes flutter closed, and tried to focus on him instead of the nerves in her chest.
"I have to get ready." she whined, and Jon squeezed her leg, and stood up straighter.
"Then I'll bid you leave." he said. "And go get dressed in some dandy southern outfit."
She giggled, looking back at him for a moment as he opened the wardrobe. She was glad for his presence.
She braided her hair, deftly and practiced, in an intricate winding pattern, away from her face and down the center of her back. She'd painted her face, only a little, to cover up the stress from the past few weeks. The dress she chose was deep forest green, with a heavily embroidered bodice that caught the light. It plunged low, and her chest was full, but her waist still narrow. She stood, turning towards Jon, who waited at the table on the balcony, sipping out of a goblet.
"Gods." he said. "Well, you're not going to blend in." he said, standing. He went to the door, opening it. Ghost stood as well, from his corner in the room. He whined impatiently, hurrying over to Jon and nuzzling his hand.
"C'mon, we'll bring him." he said to Sansa. She gave him an incredulous look. "They already think we're wild enough." he said.
She allowed herself a smirk.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she asked. "Scaring them?"
He shrugged.
"We have no reason to hide who we are." he said.
She considered this, and then nodded. He was right.
Court had already started when they arrived, and people were milling about in the throne room. Sansa stood before the double doors, looking up at them. She was chewing on her bottom lip, thinking about the humiliation she'd faced in the room before. She felt a rush of emotion as she recalled her 14 year old self, stripped and beaten, laying on the floor before the throne, Joffery smiling down at her.
"Sansa." Jon said, taking her hand, squeezing it. He pulled her back into reality.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Are you?" he echoed.
Ghost bumped his head into her side, and she looked down. She buried her hand in his thick fur, and stuck a finger underneath his collar.
"Yes." she said, meaning it.
The doors swung open, and the room which had once been buzzing with conversation, fell silent. Sansa straightened her chin, keeping her eyes focused on the throne. Jon hardened his jaw, feeling protective and prideful, but also somehow self conscious and out of place.
The pair walked through the crowd, as it parted generously, mostly due to Ghost. Sansa thought she recognized some faces, and was glad to see the expressions of the court as admiring, or even intimidated. She saw some ladies eyes lingering on Jon with raised brows, and this brought a satisfied grin to her face. They settled in the front, to the right of the Throne. Jon rounded his wolf, and settled beside his wife. He leaned into her.
"Was it always like this?" he asked in a low voice.
"Worse." she said.
The conversation re-ignited after a moment, and Sansa felt the pressure lessen.
"Big entrance." A voice said behind them. Yara pushed through the crowd, and smacked Jon on the shoulder. "I usually just go in through the side door."
"The side door." Sansa said, remembering.
"No, no, it was good." Yara said. "I think you scared all these fancy ladies as much as Queen Daenerys does."
Sansa laughed. Yara patted Ghost on the head.
There was another hush of silence as the doors behind the throne were opened, and Dany appeared in a blue and white dress. She descended the steps, greeting the row of other visiting dignitaries or politicians. When she reached Jon and Sansa, she smiled widely.
"I'm glad you made it safely." she said earnestly. "We'll resolve this, I assure you. Your home will be returned to you."
She bent, putting Ghost's face in her hands, scratching his ears.
"And such a handsome fearsome thing you brought with you." she said. Ghost's tail thumped in eagerness.
"He reminds us of our priorities." Sansa said.
"I know what you mean." Dany agreed. "We'll meet after court, in the small council chambers. To discuss everything." she added. Jon and Sansa both nodded, and Daenerys moved onto the next courtiers.
"Are you being serious?" Sansa demanded, leaning over the gleaming table, looking at Daenerys.
"Sansa-" Jon began, but she held her hand up.
"Your suggestion is coming out with the truth?" She asked again. Dany didn't move for a moment.
The trio sat in the small council room, only with Daenerys' hand, Tyrion to weigh in on the conversation.
"As opposed to denying it, cleaning up the mess, and then eventually having to go back and tear it open all over again? We'd appear liars." Tyrion said reasonably.
"We'd appear to be doing what we need to, which is protecting my..." Sansa began and then trailed off, staring at a wall with a far away look in her eyes. After a moment, she spoke again.
"We need to protect the heir. It'll be different when he's older, and can fully understand the weight of his duty. Strong enough to protect himself. I mean...he still has trouble combing his own hair." she looked at Jon, desperate for support.
"She's right." Jon said. "Not to mention...it might strengthen the rebel's case."
"How so?" Dany asked, leaning forward.
"All respect intended, but the Northerners are loyal to one house, and one house only." Jon said. "If they find out I'm a Targaryen...there could be significant unrest."
"They accepted you as a bastard." Daenerys said. "They'll accept you as a Targaryen."
"You didn't know." Dany said. "You weren't misleading anyone."
"But-" Jon began, but she raised her hand, silencing him.
"They don't know you knew. The Northern houses are still loyal to you, it is this group of rebels, not your bannermen, that wish to tear you down." she reminded him. "In the time you were travelling we received many a raven inquiring about your well being."
Jon looked at Sansa. This was news to both of them.
"Your son could finally unite the North to the throne." Dany continued. "Yes, he is Targaryen, but he is also a Stark. And the Stark house and line would be prominent in King's Landing. The house they are sworn to."
"Aden would still be too vulnerable." Sansa insisted. "Any usurper, or person who wishes you any ill will...surely seek him out."
"Not if he's here." she said. "In the Red Keep."
Sansa was struck silent by this suggestion. She looked at Jon, who looked just as stunned. Daenerys stood, smiling slightly, having achieved the affect she wanted.
"Consider it, while you're here." she said. "Of course, he can also return home with you, to Winterfell...but if you're concerned for his well being."
Sansa's eyes narrowed. She looked at Tyrion.
"Sansa." Tyrion said. "I can understand your concern."
"Oh, so you do remember my time here?" Sansa snapped, her voice cold.
"To think Queen Daenerys wouldn't see to his supreme happiness and well being at all times is practically an act of treason. If not that, at least a great insult."
"The decision about Aden is yours to make. But I have some of my closest advisors scouring all remaining Targaryen records from my father's time to see if there's any chance at Jon's true legitimacy. If Rhaegar married Lyanna, before Jon was born, in secret. It could strengthen the claim. Even if that's not the case, we cannot afford to be dishonest now."
Jon swallowed. He could feel the reality of her statement settling in. No longer a Stark. It was as if she'd ripped a piece from his chest and crushed it in her hand. And he knew he couldn't show this, he was expected to be happy.
Sansa looked at him, carefully reading his face. She saw the panic behind his eyes, for a brief moment, before they settled back into his usual calm and determined gaze. She reached for his hand, beneath the table, and squeezed it, reassuring him. She wanted to assure him it didn't matter his name, it never had, it was him that mattered. But it was officially destroying an identity he'd clung to desperately his whole life. She ached for him.
"Try to enjoy your time here, at least." Dany said. "As soon as you wrote, troops went to Winterfell to reclaim to castle in your name, and should be nearing it this week. The present situation will be resolved, at least."
And with that, she was gone.