When Jon woke that morning, he knew he had to leave. Despite having executed the main ringleaders and engineers of his murder, whenever Jon entered the courtyard, all he could see was knives. He felt the cold blades puncturing his body. The deep sense of betrayal and fear at every turn, meant he no longer belonged here, regardless of the threat of the whitewalkers. Let someone else deal with the shit, he'd go south, to a place where nobody cared whether or not he was a bastard, maybe Dorne.
It felt strange dressing in clothes more akin to those of his father instead of the usual black of the Night's Watch. In the Stark fashion, he wore a brigandine of dark brown leather, with a blue shirt. When the Lady Melisandre resurrected him, she had cut his hair, leaving it short at the back and long at the front, making it look uneven, so he tied it up. When he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he barely recognised himself. Gone had the youthful looking Lord Commander, now he was a man, or so his appearance suggested. Not only did he look different, he felt different. He knew death had changed him. Gone was his sense of purpose. His family were dead or missing, what was the point in fighting if there was nothing to fight for? The songs were romantic, life and death were ugly. Jon needed a new purpose. Fully dressed, he began to pack his meagre belongings. He would need enough food to at least make it to the Riverlands. He had some coin, which would allow him to spend a night or two at an inn. The thought of visiting a whorehouse crossed his mind.
Jon wasn't alone in his chambers. The new acting Lord Commander, Edd Tollett was with him. Angry at Jon's decision to leave the wall, despite his watch had ending with his death.
"Pass me Longclaw." Jon asked as Edd walked over to the other end of the room to retrieve the Valyrian steel sword, he stared at it for a moment.
"Where you gonna go?" Edd asked.
"South." Jon placed a pair of gloves into his bag.
"What are you gonna do?"
"Get warm." Jon smiled as Edd slammed Longclaw down on the table, clearly not amused by Jon's attempt to be funny.
"I was with you at Hardhome. We saw what's out there. We know it's coming here. How can you leave us now?" Edd growled.
"I did everything I could. You know that."
"You swore a vow."
Jon leaned on the table. "Aye, I pledged my life to the Night's Watch. I gave my life."
"For all nights to come." Edd raised his voice.
"They killed me, Edd!" how could Edd not understand the betrayal, how it hurt? "My own brothers. You want me to stay here after that?" they were interrupted by the sound of a single horn outside. Jon and Edd looked towards the doorway and went outside to see who it was.
"Riders approaching!" one of the guards shouted. "Open the gate!"
by the time Jon had made it outside, the three riders were already dismounting their horses. A mess of copper hair stood out against the dreary backdrop of Castle Black. Jon immediately thought of Ygritte, but quickly pushed that thought to one side. Too tall, too elegant, and despite being filthy, it was clear this woman had the poise of a Lady. She turned around, scanning the now silent yard, clearly looking for someone. The moment her blue eyes locked onto his, something shifted inside him. Sansa, his sister was alive and had come to find him. As he descended the stairs, he found he was unable to breathe. Gone had the prim and proper, pretty little girl. In her place stood a bruised and battered, beautiful woman. He made his way across the courtyard, slowly at first, not knowing how he should approach her. They'd never been close as children. Sansa was almost a stranger to him, but now she was the most important person in his life, he didn't want to scare her away. Sansa seemed to have less reservations. She walked over to him, encouraging him to pick up the pace. She almost leapt into his arms. Jon took her into his arms and picked her up. He closed his eyes as he felt the tears well up inside him. Something else took over, a sense of purpose. Now he understood why he'd been resurrected. Jon was meant to protect her. For the first time since his death, he felt glad to be alive.
"Sansa." he whispered.
"Jon." she nuzzled into his neck.
Eventually he put her down and examined her. "You're a grown woman." he could no longer hold back the tears.
"And you're the Lord Commander." she smiled, although he sensed hesitation in her voice. Jon's eyes dropped.
"Aye, something like that. Come on, lets get you inside, you look like you're going to freeze to death." Jon turned to Edd. "Ask Hobbs to send up some soup, and we'll need some hot water for a bath." he led her upstairs and back into the Lord Commander's chambers, where he closed the door.
"What happened?"
"I was married off to Ramsey Bolton. He raped and tortured me. Theon rescued me." there was no self-pity in her voice. It was as if it had happened to someone else.
Jon felt bile coming up into his throat. He crossed the room, wanting to take her hands, but not sure if she would appreciate being touched. "I didn't know."
"I know you didn't. You were too busy being murdered by your own men."
"How do you know?"
"I know a lot of things." she smiled sadly. "Bran, Rickon and Arya are still alive. Bran is beyond the wall, Rickon is with the Umbers, although he is probably on his way to Ramsey Bolton right now. Arya is in Braavos training to be a faceless man. And I know your watch has ended. You were betrayed by your men and resurrected by the Lady Melisandre."
Jon frowned. Knowledge about his death and subsequent resurrection may well have already spread throughout the north, but how she knew this information about their brothers and sister was a mystery. "How?"
"Have you ever had...strange dreams?" Sansa sat beside the fire, to which Jon joined her.
There had been times when Jon had dreamt he was Ghost, and he frequently had the dreams of the crypts. "Aye."
"The blood of the first men runs through our veins. Do you dream you are Ghost?" Jon's blood ran cold. He'd never told anyone about his wolf dreams, but clearly he wasn't alone. He swallowed and nodded. "You're a warg, and I've been having green dreams."
A clattering of buckets told Jon the water for Sansa's bath had arrived. "Would you lime me to send..." he was going to suggest the large woman, but Sansa obviously knew what he meant.
"I'll be fine. I can undress myself." she suddenly blushed. "Can I have some parchment and ink? I'd like to write my dreams down. It would help."
Jon opened the door to let the men in so they could fill the bath in the wash room, meanwhile he opened the drawer in his desk and pulled out some paper, some quills and a bottle of ink. "I'll leave you be for a few hours. Have a rest and I'll bring you some food. Then we'll talk..properly."
"We need to talk. There are important things I need to tell you." she said. "About the whitewalkers, dragonglass, about you."
Jon nodded. She knew about the whitewalkers and dragonglass, things only known to a few. Whatever Sansa had to say, needed to be listened to. "I'll be back in a couple of hours." closing the door behind him.
Outside stood the tall blonde woman who had accompanied Sansa. "Thank you..." he frowned, not knowing her name.
"Brienne of Tarth." she introduced herself. "I am Lady Sansa's sworn sword. This is my squire Pod." she pointed towards the dark haired youth who'd travelled with them.
"Thank you for keeping my sister alive."
"My pleasure Lord Commander. She is a very special Lady." she beamed.
"Aye, that she is."
"I'll look after her while she bathes." Brienne assured him. "I doubt there is a man here who would get past me."
"She beat the Hound and the Kingslayer." Pod piped up, Brienne cast him a look which told him to shut up.
Jon nodded. "I'll relieve you of your duty when she is ready. I doubt anyone here would get past me." he warned.
Brienne looked him up and down, clearly unimpressed with his size. Jon knew size wasn't all that mattered in battle. Agility was just as important, and that was his greatest skill. However he wasn't going to argue with anyone who could beat the hound or Ser Jaime Lannister. "I'll take your word for it." she said.
"My Lady." Jon nodded his head and turned to leave.
"I'm not a Lady." he heard her say with gritted teeth. Suddenly he thought of Arya and smiled, before leaving Sansa to her bath.
Jon made his way to Lady Melisandre's chambers, he knocked on the door, she called out for him to enter. "Lord Commander, how can I help?" she looked tired. Nothing like the woman who'd come to the wall only a few moons ago. She nodded her head towards the chair opposite her, to which he sat.
"Do you know anything about green dreams?"
"They aren't like visions." she shook her head. "They are memories of a previous life lived. If your sister is having green dreams, she has lived this life before."
"So she knows the future?" Jon frowned.
"She knows a version of the future. If she has returned, then she is here to change it. Maybe R'hllor has decided part of her future must be altered and she has returned to change it."
"So I must listen to her counsel?"
"Just because her future must have a different outcome does not mean yours should change." Melisandre told him. "However, it is your choice."
"She knows about the whitewalkers." Jon told her.
"If she knows how to defeat them, then I would adhere to her counsel." the red woman smiled. "If she needs anything, I can help her, ease her pain. Men can be...barbaric."
"What do you mean?" Jon frowned.
"The flames have shown me glimpses of what happened to her." she shivered. If the red woman found it distressing, then he knew Sansa must have suffered some horrific cruelty. Anger surged through his body, he wanted to kill Ramsey Bolton for touching his beautiful sister.
"Should I..." he started.
"It is best you do not know the details. Your sister will share them with you in time. I can help with the physical scars." she got up and walked over to her dresser, where she picked up a bottle and handed it to him. "This is a salve which will remove the evidence of her injuries. Sadly, I cannot help her mind. Only you can heal her mind Jon Snow, but not until she is ready." Melisandre gave a knowing smile, confusing Jon. "I have seen a vision in the flames of you easing her pain."
"How?"
"Love and trust. But first you must earn it." Jon understood. Sansa simply needed time to unburden herself.
"Thank you my Lady. I shall leave you be." he said.
"Goodnight Jon Snow. Remember to give your sister the salve. It will make her life more bearable when the time comes." Jon nodded and left. He decided he should go and check on Hobbs. The least he could do was make sure he gave his sister some decent tasting soup.
Jon spent the next two hours listening to Tormund gushing over Brienne. It seemed red-haired wildling had taken a shine to the Lady and was planning to woo her. Jon wasn't sure that was a wise idea, he liked Tormund being alive, and Brienne could probably kill him. Eventually he was relieved of the lovesick wildling by Podrick, who told him Sansa was ready for him. Jon didn't waste a single minute, he couldn't wait to see his sister. He collected the tray of food and ale from the kitchen and made his way to his chambers.
The fire in his chambers was burning brightly, warming the room up. Sansa still wore the same dress, but now she was cleaner, her damp hair was now braided, glowing in the firelight against her porcelain skin. Jon was jolted by how much her appearance affected him. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. A sense of guilt and shame overtook him, she was his sister, she had just been through unbelievable horrors. He had a duty to be there for her, to protect her and to be there for her when she needed him and for as long as she needed him.
Jon placed the tray on the table, which was strewn with parchments. He picked up a bowl. "I've got you some soup and bread." he told her, handing her a bowl and plate.
"Thanks." she smiled, placing the plate of bread on the floor and holding the bowl of soup to warm her hands.
"Ale?" he asked. Sansa surprisingly nodded. "It's not good I'm afraid." he warned her.
"You'd think after thousands of years, the Night's Watch would have learned how to brew a good ale." Sansa laughed as Jon poured them both a horn of ale.
"Aye, you'd think." Jon nodded and sat down to join her as Sansa took a sip of her soup.
"This is good soup. Do you remember those kidney pies Old Nan used to make?" she had clearly decided to make small talk, which Jon was more than happy to join in with.
"With the peas and onions?" Jon smiled.
"Mmm." Sansa sighed, staring into the fire, as if she were miles away.
Jon stared into his ale. "We never should have left Winterfell."
"Don't you wish we could go back to the day we left?" she asked. "I want to scream at myself, 'Don't go, you idiot.'"
"How could we know?" Jon huffed.
"I spent a lot of time thinking about what as ass I was to you. I wish I could change everything." she told him honestly.
"We were children." Jon looked into his mug of ale, trying to hide how much her disdain had hurt as a child.
"I was awful, just admit it." Sansa insisted.
Jon chuckled, before looking up to her. "You were occasionally awful. I'm sure I can't have been great fun. Always sulking in the corner while the rest of you played."
"Can you forgive me?" Sansa asked.
"There's nothing to forgive." Jon smiled.
"Forgive me." her voice was small.
"All right. All right, I forgive you." he nodded before looking at her. "Sansa, are you alright? What's wrong?"
"Did you believe me when I told you of the green dreams?" she asked.
"I suppose. You already know things I wouldn't expect you to know." he took a swig of the bitter tasting ale.
"In my dream, our final conversation involves me asking for your forgiveness." Sansa's face crumpled. "But you couldn't." he could see tears in her eyes.
"What could you have done so bad for me to not forgive you?" Jon began to panic. He couldn't imagine Sansa doing anything bad enough to warrant him to not forgive her for anything.
"I was trying to protect you." she licked her lips nervously. "You swore me and Arya to a secret. I told your secret to Tyrion Lannister." she looked up at him as he took a swig of ale. "I tried to put you on the Iron Throne, even though you didn't want it."
Jon choked, snorting the ale up though his nose. Sansa hit him on the back while he coughed it out, his eyes watering. Only once he'd regained his composure could he look at Sansa once more, just to see if she were japing. The look on her face told him she was deadly serious. "I suspect Cersei Lannister was none best pleased with you trying to oust Tommen in favour of me."
"Tommen was dead..." Sansa started. "Look Jon, I don't want to talk about it. Not yet. We'll only end up arguing. We haven't seen each other since we were children, I don't want to argue tonight. I want to talk of other things."
Jon didn't want to let the conversation go. He had believed Sansa when she'd mentioned her green dreams, now he wasn't so sure. Mayhaps Ramsey's torture had sent her over the edge of madness. If so, his heart was ready for breaking.
"Where were you intending to go?" Sansa asked, breaking Jon's thoughts.
"You're the one who should know." he smirked.
"South, to get warm." Sansa sighed, Jon nodded.
"Where will we go?" he corrected her. "If I don't watch over you, Father's ghost will come back and murder me." Sansa shifted uncomfortably.
"Where will we go?" Sansa repeated, although her face told him she already knew the answer.
"I can't stay here, not after what happened." he looked at her. "So you tell me. Where do we go? What do we do? Or are you wanting to change what we did in your dream?" he asked. Sansa stared into the fire, placed her bowl on the floor and took a swig of ale, which made her grimace. "I did warn you the ale was bad."
"We take back Winterfell." Sansa told him.
"Do we just tell the Boltons to pack up and leave?" Jon looked at her incredulously.
Sansa shook her head. "We muster an army together. Wildlings, northerners who refuse to bend the knee to Ramsey. And..." Sansa looked nervous. "I get help from the Vale."
"How would you get help from the Vale?" Jon asked.
"Lord Petyr Baelish was the ones who gave me to the Bolton's. The plan was for me to seduce Ramsey and win back Winterfell from within. Lord Baelish underestimated Ramsey's nature and predilection for torture." Sansa lowered her eyes.
"So the man who sold you to the Bolton's, rode in as your knight in shining armour." rage burned inside Jon.
Sansa scoffed. "Littlefinger is no knight in shining armour. I can handle him." her voice took on an icy tone, one which Jon found he didn't like.
"And then what?" Jon asked.
"The Bolton's were defeated, I killed Ramsey, eventually I had Littlefinger executed, once he'd served his purpose." Sansa stared into the fire. "You executed those who stabbed you." she looked at him. "Am I not entitled to do the same to those who betrayed me and our family?"
Jon held out his hand and Sansa took it. "What do you want me to do?"
"I want to change things. Prevent the mistakes. Save the lives of the ones we might lose along the way. Some are already lost to us, I cannot see how we can change their destinies. But we must be better prepared for the long night. Last time I was so engrossed in petty squabbles, I didn't truly believe you. But I've seen them, I know what they are like. I want to help you prepare for the long night. We can defeat them, but we must be smarter about it than before." she placed the empty bowl on the floor. "Dragonstone sits on a mountain of dragonglass. Stannis is dead and the island is empty for now. Daenerys Targaryen will soon occupy the island. You need to mine the dragonglass before she arrives. Send Ser Davos, he knows the island. Let him take some of the men from the watch. Mine the dragonglass, empty the castle of anything useful, books, clothes, bed linen, wood, food, everything. Ask Ser Davos to find a blacksmith. He might know someone who owes him a favour." Sansa looked like she had a glint in her eye.
Jon wondered if the smith was someone important. He put the thought to one side, Melisandre had told him to adhere to her counsel when it came to the whitewalkers. "Does this smith have a name?" for some reason Jon couldn't help himself.
"Gendry. He is a friend of Arya's." Sansa smirked. "A very good friend of Arya's." Jon's stomach dropped. Arya was a little girl.
"But... surely not." he frowned.
"Arya will be nearly eighteen by the time you see her. She is quite capable of choosing her lovers. He is handsome and cares deeply about her." she told him.
"A smith?" Jon raised an eyebrow.
"He's Robert Baratheon's bastard. And he's a good smith. I suppose I could see why Arya finds him attractive. He isn't a fat drunkard. He's also good with a warhammer." Sansa smirked.
"Seven hells." Jon pinched his nose. "In my mind she's eleven." Sansa laughed for a moment, then her face fell. "What?"
"I've got something to tell you. Something important. And me telling you this will change everything. It was knowledge you didn't have before. Armed with it, I suspect your choices will be different than what you made in my dreams."
"Is this the secret you told Tyrion?" Jon asked, Sansa nodded. "Tell me." his heart was pounding, he knew this was going to be something terrible.
"First of all, you are a Stark to me. You are my brother and nothing will change that. Do you understand?" she asked. Jon nodded, fear gripping him inside.
"Tell me." he whispered.
"It's about your mother. I know who she was."
"Was?" Jon asked. That one word suggested she no longer lived. Sansa nodded. "Who was she?"
"Her name was Lyanna Stark. Your father was Rhaegar Targaryen. They were married. You aren't a bastard. Your name is Aegon Targaryen." she gripped his hands fiercely, as if trying to gauge his reaction.
Everything seemed to still. Jon didn't know what to think. All his life he'd been a Snow, but proud that his father was Lord Eddard Stark. Now Jon wasn't even that. Sensing his distress, Ghost approached them and nudged Jon's elbow. Jon let go of Sansa's hand and ruffled the white fur of the direwolf. A reminder that he was still a Stark. He stared at Sansa, her face etched with worry. Yet, all Jon felt was an emptiness. Nothing had changed. He still had no mother, now he didn't even have a father. These people were a footnote in history, not people he knew or had any feelings for. Lyanna was his aunt and he'd felt sorry for her, but that was all he'd ever allowed himself to contemplate when it came to the woman who birthed him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, for from that depth of nothing, came an anger.
"Jon?" Sansa was clearly worried. "Talk to me."
"Our...your father was the most honourable man I ever met. You're saying he lied to me all my life." he frowned.
"He lied to us all." Sansa said. "But he did it for you. He lied to protect you. He hurt my mother, to protect you. What do you think would have happened if Robert Baratheon had known who you really were? He loved your mother, but he had no qualms about killing children. Your real siblings are proof of that. Aegon and Rhaenys were murdered. You would have been too. You were too great a threat. Robert tried to have Daenerys killed multiple times. Father knew what Robert was. He loved you and protected you in the only way he knew how." she pulled her seat closer to him, holding his hand in hers.
"I'm not a Stark." he stared into her Tully blue eyes. "I'm not your brother. How did I take it last time?" he tried to distract himself.
"I don't know. It was Samwell who told you. But we were so caught up in preparing for the army of the dead, it seemed inconsequential at the time. It was only after the Night King was destroyed, did it become important. It will again, except this time, you have time to absorb the knowledge. What it means for you. We can keep this to ourselves until you feel ready to talk to anyone. Send a raven to Sam, have him search the diaries of Septon Maynard for any references to Rhaegar Targaryen. There he will find the proof you weren't born a bastard."
Jon nodded, glancing towards the window. It was dark out, the snow was falling. "I should leave, let you get some sleep." he stood up.
"Wait!" Sansa pulled on his hand. "I don't want to spend the night on my own. If I don't have the green dreams, I fear what will replace them. And I don't think you ought to be alone."
"Sansa, it's not proper."
"It won't be the first time we've shared a bed." she insisted.
"Not since we were children." Jon knew he was going to be defeated.
"Please?" Jon shook his head. "Nobody knows we aren't siblings. And we still are, just not by blood." she shrugged.
"It's not proper." Jon repeated himself. It wasn't that he didn't want to, he wanted it more than anything in the world. He just was concerned with her reputation.
"Jon, you were murdered by your own men, and now you've just found out you are the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. I've just spent the last six moons being raped and tortured. Neither of those things are right and proper. Sharing a bed with the man I consider to be my brother to ward off the nightmares is quite proper in comparison." Sansa argued, and Jon knew she'd won.
"Aye, alright then." Jon sighed. "Let's get some rest."
