Jon and Sansa emerged from the water an hour later, both of them wrinkly from the moisture. Sansa shivered, pulling on the clothes she'd left abandoned as quickly as she could.
"Shall we return to the hunt, then?" she asked, grinning at her husband as he got dressed.
"I suppose we don't have much else to do." he said, with a sigh. They shared an ironic smile, before rejoining their horses.
They walked out of the treeline, and looked over at Winterfell. Just approaching the gates was a small caravan of carriages, and a few rows of cavalry. Sansa squinted, trying to make out the banners.
"It's the Vale." Jon sighed, clearly glimpsing the blue and white tapestries flapping in the wind. "I suspected we might be hearing from Littlefinger."
"There's other banners too, Jon." Sansa said, indicating a few different colors. House Reed, she realized grimly, and House Whitehill. "This cannot be good."
They urged the horses on, across the field. Sansa realized she didn't look as dignified as she might like, her hair still damp from the water and loose over her back. Their clothes were wet too, the mist and the moisture had settled into them.
"I really wish he'd stop appearing without warning." Jon called to Sansa over the roar of the hooves.
"He likes the element of surprise." she called back, and Jon's jaw tightened.
They reached the gates a few minutes after the carriages had been ushered in. The courtyard was empty when they rode through, and they both dismounted hurriedly.
"Shall I change?" Sansa asked him as she joined his side, walking towards the receiving hall.
"No. It'll be better if it looks as though he's disturbed us." he said grimly. "Which he has."
They walked through the doors of the hall, and the room fell silent.
"Sorry to leave you all waiting." Jon said, voice heavy with distaste. "Normally we would be happy to receive you in a much more dignified manner."
Bran was already seated at the head of the table, but he was busying himself with papers in front of him. Jon and Sansa joined him, taking seats.
Littlefinger had brought with him dignitaries from the other houses, Jon suspected, to look like a united front. Something felt off. Usually the faces of visiting houses were open, pleasant, and ready to speak calmly. But Jon saw with this group, anger and distrust.
"Well?" he asked, looking at Baelish, waiting. Peter stood, and approached them at the front of the hall.
"You look as lovely as ever." he said to Sansa briskly. Sansa did not meet his eyes, but instead stared straight ahead.
"Jon Snow-" Petyr began, but Sansa interrupted him.
"I'd remind you Jon is still your sworn Lord." she snapped. "And thus you will address him with respect, or I'll see you thrown out of my home."
"Aye. For the moment, he is indeed the Lord of the House." Littlefinger said, a small grin on his face. "But myself and the sworn bannermen Reed and Whitehill have formed a council, and written up a movement to unseat him." he said, and handed a scroll to Bran.
"According to the Master of Laws, and the ruling government of Westeros, a Lord may be unseated if his sworn allegiances find him unfit or illegally holding power."
"You side with him?" Jon asked, looking over at the representing noblemen from Reed and Whitehill. "I suspect he paid you a very hefty sum. Lady Jyana..." he trailed off, looking sadly at the woman he'd made an allegiance with so many years before. She looked much older, her hair streaked with grey, her face ashen. She looked down at her hands, clearly ashamed.
"It's not a matter of money, but instead of loyalty." Littlefinger said.
"And what of loyalty to your Queen?" Sansa asked.
"Queen Daenerys-"
"No." Sansa said, interrupting him again. "Not her. Myself. Your sworn Queen, in the north, what of me? Am I to be unseated as well?"
"We merely insist on the trueborn son of Ned Stark ruling Winterfell, and want trueborn children to take his place afterwords. We have no protest to you ruling beside Bran."
"My children are as much Stark as Bran's would be." Sansa said, her voice low and dangerous.
"And according to the Laws of Man, they wouldn't carry the name. Not truthfully. We've done our research, consulted with the legal maesters of the Scholastic Order agree. In fact, it is their law."
Sansa looked at the paper, neatly written was the codes Petyr was referring to. Exhaustively researched, she was sure, the codes had been written hundreds of years before.
"And when Aegon united the lands of Westeros," Bran stated "he opted to respect each region's local laws, or did that part escape you? These laws stand in the South, of course." he took the paper, and promptly tore it in half. Petyr looked temporarily shocked, and for a moment, so was Sansa. Bran was always the calmest of the Starks, even more so with age.
"We are in the North, Lord Baelish." Bran finished.
"Then I have no option to take this matter to the High Court." Petyr said. "And I was hoping to opt out of that. We simply wish to move Jon from his seat of power and leave it with Bran. That's all we ask. We stand with Starks, not Targaryen, here in the North."
"You have never stood for anyone but yourself, Littlefinger." Sansa said, but Jon held up his hand.
"Fine." he said flatly. "The house goes to Bran."
"Jon!" Sansa said, turning to him.
"The House is Bran's." Jon repeated. "Unless he means to throw his nephew and niece out of the home."
"It's as much my house as yours." Bran said after a moment.
Petyr grinned, and stepped away from the table.
"So it's settled." he said.
"You can't be serious." Sansa snapped, as soon as she was alone with Jon in the next room, the small library. "Jon, something is very wrong with this."
"What?" Jon said. "If you can tell me what is wrong with it, then I'll be happy to retake the Head."
She waited, thinking.
"Petyr has a plan. Littlefinger always has a plan." she says.
"What is it?"
"I don't know!" she shouted.
He watched her, pacing across the carpet.
"You'll still be Queen." he said. "There was never a mention of unseating you."
"But Jon...the power that comes with being the Lord of Winterfell...the protection it provided for us, for our children- you just want to give that all up?" she asked, her voice cracking.
"You don't believe Bran would want the same protection for the future of the realm?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even. In a way, he was relieved. In a way, Jon Snow...Jon Stark...Jon whoever...Jon was tired. He was worried. He was terrified for the future of his children, and the only way he could guarantee their safety, was to grant them to Queen Daenerys' line.
"Kyria will never hold Winterfell." Sansa said. "She can't...Aden, maybe, but once he's old enough, he'll go to Kings Landing...that leaves our daughter vulnerable. Another princess to be pawned off into a marriage, and not the ruling Lady of the House."
"Sansa." he said, trying to calm her. "It will hardly change a thing."
"You can't lead the army." she said. "You will no longer command our men."
"The men are as loyal to me as they are to Bran."
She shut her eyes. She wasn't going to win the argument. But something felt so off, so wrong about the situation. Not only with Littlefinger, who she was sure had some sort of hidden plan to turn the power in his favor. But with Jon, too. How could he give up this easy? Something he'd fought so hard, with her, to win? And just like that, he wants it to be over.
"I'm going to see our children." she said, her voice void of emotion. And with that, she was gone.
A/N: Hello darlings...hope it wasn't too boring for you. I have plans in the works, fret not! Much more to come! Thank you all so much for your wonderful responses, subscriptions, and support. I might be hosting a small giveaway in a couple chapters...a Thank You to all my beautiful and loyal subscribers. I hit my personal record on this story and I'm looking to celebrate! If you'd be interested in participating, leave a comment! I think I'll be doing a random choosing of my author subscribers and anyone who reviews...if you think it's a nice sentiment, and maybe want some Game Of Thrones merch, let me know below! XXXX - Shiloh