A short trip, a chat in a crypt, arguments, duplicity.
Some more show dialogue, with a twist. I tried to avoid including a certain scene, but after I started writing chapter 16, I realised it had become a necessity, so I changed it slightly.
Jon
The previous evening, Jon and Sansa had decided the wedding was to take place on the night of the next full moon, which was in three weeks. This would give time for the shipment to arrive from Dragonstone; allowing Sansa to make alterations to any Targaryen clothes which could be utilised for Jon to wear during the wedding ceremony. Despite Jon's distaste for his sire, Sansa had persuaded him to honour his heritage, as he needed to put on a show; ensuring it was known throughout the land that there was already a Targaryen Prince in Westeros. One who was ready to oppose the soon to be approaching, self-styled Dragon Queen; a Prince who had a greater claim to the Iron Throne than she did. Jon also wanted time to put the rest of the cargo into some kind of storage before the wedding, which he knew it would be a lengthy job. Not only that, Sansa had wanted to introduce Jon to Gendry, the man who would go on to fall in love with and defile his little sister. A fact which Sansa found oddly romantic, whilst Jon to want to punch the living daylights out of the man; although Sansa assured him Arya would be more than capable of doing it herself should she ever receive unwanted touches. After much persuading, Jon had promised to refrain from hitting the poor lad until he deserved it. In the meantime, it was decided they would need to announce the date of the wedding to the Lords so they could organise their own castles while they continued to stay at Winterfell for the wedding. Jon had a few other announcements to make that morning, one of which would lead to a public disagreement with Sansa. However, she had been adamant the public disagreement take place as Littlefinger needed to sense division between them.
The Lords were called to the main hall to meet after they broke their fast. Everyone who had attended the conclave would be there, except Lord Cerwyn had returned to Castle Cerwyn to await any news of the arrival of the dragonglass.
Jon and Sansa were alone on the dais, a show of joint regal unity and authority, despite them yet to be crowned. Jon stood. "I've called this meeting for a number of reasons. The first one is to announce Queen Sansa and I will wed and be crowned on the next full moon, which as you know is only three weeks from now. I hope that will give you the time you need to take care of your own business and not keep you too long from your homes."
"Is there to be a feast?" Lord Glover asked.
"There is my Lord." Jon grinned.
"And a bedding?" another Lord from the Vale who Jon didn't recognise. Jon looked uncomfortably at Sansa.
"There won't be a bedding ceremony!" Jon said firmly, much to the mumblings of distaste from the audience.
"What type of animals are you? Wanting to watch a man and woman fuck each other. It's not normal." Tormund shook his head, Jon smiled in support, noticing a fleeting glance from Sansa, who agreed with Tormund.
"Says a wildling!" Lord Royce huffed.
"At least we don't watch people fuck." Tormund shrugged. "Maybe we are the civilised ones." he grinned smugly.
"Now onto more important matters." Jon started. "The first shipment of dragonglass to arrive from White Harbor any day now. I have asked Lord Cerwyn to return to his castle and to send us a raven when it is on its way. Once we have it, I want to have it turned into weapons. Ser Davos has sent a smith from Kings Landing who is familiar with unusual materials. His role is purely to forge weapons from dragonglass. There will be a further three shipments arriving from Dragonstone, which should hopefully be enough to arm everyone fit to fight. From tomorrow, I want ever able bodied person in Winterfell aged ten to sixty to drill daily with spears, pikes, bow and arrow. My Lords, I wish for you to write to your houses and notify them of my decree."
"It's about time we taught these boys of summer how to fight." Lord Glover laughed, to which northern lords joined in.
Jon glanced at Sansa uncomfortably before turning back to Lord Glover. "Not just the boys." he said as the room went silent. "I meant every able bodied person. We can't defend the North if only half the population is fighting."
Lord Glover stood in indignation. "You expect me to put a spear in my granddaughter's hand?"
Lyanna Mormont also took to the floor. "I don't plan on knitting by the fire while men fight for me. I might be small, Lord Glover, and I might be a girl, but I am every bit as much a Northerner as you." she said, coming to Jon's rescue.
"Indeed you are, my lady. No one has questioned..." Lord Glover started.
"And I don't need your permission to defend the North." Lyanna scolded the older Lord before turning to JON. "We'll begin training every man, woman, boy, and girl on Bear Island." she said with an air of authority which put the rest of the men to shame. As if knowing they were defeated by a little girl, the men pounded their tables and shouted in agreement.
"While we're preparing for attack, we need to shore up our defences. The only thing standing between us and the Army of the Dead is the Wall and the Wall hasn't been properly manned in centuries. I'm not the king of the Free Folk." Jon looked towards Tormund. "But if we're going to survive this winter together..."
Tormund grunted and stood. "You want us to man the castles for you?" he asked as the men in the room murmured.
"Last time we saw the Night King was at Hardhome. The closest castle to Hardhome is Eastwatch-by-the-Sea." Jon stated. "I want you to wait for the first shipment of dragonglass before you go. No good you manning the wall unarmed, it would be a waste of men."
"Then that's where I'll go when we get our weapons. Looks like we're the Night's Watch now." Tormund sat back down.
"If they breach the wall, the first two castles in their path are Last Hearth and Karhold." Jon started.
Yohn Royce took to the floor. "The Umbers and the Karstarks betrayed the North. Their castles should be torn down with not a stone left standing."
"The castles committed no crimes." Sansa disagreed. "And we need every fortress we have for the war to come. We should give the Last Hearth and Karhold to new families, loyal families who supported us against Ramsay."
"Aye!" the rest of the hall murmured, and Jon knew this is where Sansa was purposely disagreeing with him. Despite their future marriage, they couldn't seem united on every front, otherwise Sansa couldn't plot the downfall of Littlefinger.
Lord Royce sat as Jon stood once more. "The Umbers and the Karstarks have fought beside the Starks for centuries. They've kept faith for generation after generation."
"And then they broke faith." Sansa reminded him.
"I'm not going to strip these families of their ancestral homes because of the crimes of a few reckless sons." Jon looked at Sansa angrily.
"So there's no punishment for treason and no reward for loyalty?" Sansa asked as the hall went silent, sensing some disunity between the newly crowned King and Queen.
"The punishment for treason is death. Smalljon Umber died on the field of battle. Harald Karstark died on the field of battle." Jon glared at Sansa, hating this fake argument, but it needed to be done.
"They died fighting for Ramsay. Give the castles to the families of the men who died fighting for you." Sansa argued as the men chattered and pounded the tables in agreement.
"When I was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch I executed men who betrayed me. I executed men who refused to follow orders. Lord Stark always said, 'The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword,' and I have tried to live by those words. But I will not punish a son for his father's sins, and I will not take a family home away from a family it has belonged to for centuries. You of all people should know that." Sansa glared at Jon before looking away. Jon turned to address the hall. "Ned Umber." he called out and a young boy stood. "Alys Karstark." he said as a teenage girl stood with Ned Umber. They looked to each other before nervously approaching the dais. "For centuries, our families fought side by side on the battlefield. I ask you to pledge your loyalty once again to House Stark, to serve as our bannermen and come to our aid whenever called upon." both Ned and Alys unsheathed their swords and knelt to show fealty. "Stand." Jon commanded as the children did as they were told. "Yesterday's wars don't matter anymore. The North needs to band together, all the living north. Will you stand beside me, Ned and Alys, now and always?" he asked.
"Now and always!" they both said together as the rest of the men in the hall cheered and pounded the tables once more.
"This meeting is dismissed." Jon said as he stormed out of the hall and up the steps to the upper walkway, needing some fresh air away from prying eyes. Footsteps he recognised followed him. Jon stopped to face Sansa.
"Did you honestly want Ned and Alys executed the first time?" he asked, shocked by the argument she had put up in the meeting. Sansa nodded.
"I was angry." Sansa admitted.
"You were making an argument which would have supported Joffrey executing you." he huffed.
"I know." Sansa looked sheepish.
"Do you think it worked?" Jon asked.
Sansa looked around, her face changed. "So I can't question your decisions anymore? I thought we were supposed to be ruling together." her voice was suddenly louder.
Jon realised Littlefinger must be lurking. "Of course you can, but..."
"Joffrey never let anyone question his authority. You think he was a good king?" Sansa asked.
"Do you think I'm Joffrey?" Jon asked.
"You're as far from Joffrey as anyone I've ever met." Sansa smiled and her voice changed, telling Jon their nemesis had gone.
"Thank you." Jon smiled as he turned to stare at the yard below. "Gods I hate this pretence."
"You're good at it." Sansa sighed.
"At what?" Jon asked.
"Learning how to play the game." she smiled.
Jon sighed. "Learning maybe. I'll never be good at playing the game, and I don't want to be."
"You are." Sansa insisted. "But you have to..." Jon laughed. Sansa rolled her eyes. "...Is this going to be something along the lines of what father used to say? Everything before the word 'but' is horse shit."
Jon gaped at her. "I've never heard you curse before."
"Father never cursed in front of Arya and I because he was trying to protect us. He never wanted us to see how dirty the world really is. I don't think he really knew himself. Yes he saw battle and was honourable, but he wasn't smart." she took his hands. "You have to be smarter than Father. You need to be smarter than Robb. I loved them, I miss them, but they made stupid mistakes, and they both lost their heads for it. You have more enemies than they ever had, and if everything goes wrong, you might have to take control of not just the north, but of Westeros itself. If you can't play the game, then the Seven Kingdoms will suffer and you will end up dead."
"And how should I be smarter? If I end up on that blasted chair, then you will be Queen..." Jon started.
"Queen in the North maybe, but not of the Seven Kingdoms, I'd only be..." Sansa stopped as Maester Wolkan approached.
"A raven from Castle Cerwyn, Your Graces." he said handing a bound note to Jon. The Maester then bowed and leaves. When he was gone Jon unravelled the note.
"What does it say?" Sansa asked.
"A flotilla had been spotted sailing up the White Knife. Lord Cerwyn says he doesn't have enough sleighs to transport it all. He needs extra help to come from Winterfell." Jon said excitedly. "I suppose I best deal with it myself."
"Why? Ask one of the men to do it." Sansa asked, surprising Jon by her question.
"I thought we were playing the game. It's a perfect opportunity to look pissed off with each other." Jon frowned.
Sansa looked stunned. "We don't need to go that far."
"It will give you the chance to deal with Littlefinger." Jon said.
"I don't want you to go." Sansa's lips thinned to a line.
"I have to." Jon insisted.
"No you don't." Sansa implored him.
"This will be our best chance to get rid of that weasel. Or don't you want to get rid of him?" Jon raised an eyebrow.
"Of course I do." Sansa nodded.
"Good, then I'll get the dragonglass and you get rid of Littlefinger." he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "I won't be gone long, I promise." Sansa glared at him for a moment before storming off into the castle.
Jon closed his eyes for a moment, he hated fighting with Sansa. Especially when it was a fight which made no sense. He knew she often wore a mask to cover up her emotions, Jon wondered whether this was another one of her masks, one which she needed to wear when she played the game. He'd need to ask her when he returned. With that it mind, he decided to go down to the crypts, where he could say goodbye to his family once he'd organised the sleighs.
Jon must have been stood for all of five minutes, in front of the statue of the man he was still trying to call father, when he heard approaching footsteps he didn't recognise. Knowing they weren't Sansa's, there was only one other person who would enter these crypts and interrupt such a private moment.
"I delivered his bones myself. I presented them to Lady Catelyn as a gesture of goodwill from Tyrion Lannister. It seems like a lifetime ago." Littlefinger's slimy voice grated through Jon. Resisting the urge to thump him, Jon continued to stare up at the statue in silence. "I was sorry when he died. Lord Stark and I had our differences but he loved Cat very much. So did I. She wasn't fond of you, was she? Well, it appears she vastly underestimated you, or did she? Maybe she might have thought differently if she'd known the truth of you. Your uncle and cousins are gone, yet here you stand King in the North. Last best hope against the coming storm."
Jon turned and looked at Littlefinger. "You don't belong down here."
"Forgive me. We have never talked, not properly. I wanted to remedy that." Littlefinger offered.
"I have nothing to say to you." Jon snapped, he hated the man and the position he'd placed Sansa in.
"Not even thank you? If it weren't for me you'd have been slaughtered at that battlefield. You have many enemies, My King, but I swear to you I'm not one of them. I loved Sansa's mother, and I love Sansa as if she were my own daughter."
Jon couldn't control his anger any longer. He grabbed Littlefinger by the throat and pushed him up against the wall, choking him. "Don't lie. You want to fuck Sansa. I've seen the way you look at her." he pulled Littlefinger back slightly and pushed him against the wall once more, knocking his head against the stone wall. "Lay one finger on my betrothed, and I'll kill you myself...Painfully." he whispered, releasing Littlefinger from his grasp and storming out of the crypts, wishing the cunt was dead already.
The outside air was chilly, a few snow flurries had added an extra layer of snow to the ground as Jon and Sansa stood in the Winterfell courtyard, preparing to leave for Castle Cerwyn. Despite still being angry with him for leaving, Sansa was helping Jon adjust the fur cape that she had made for him at Castle Black."What if I start having nightmares?" she huffed, trying to argue against him going.
"You'll keep the castle awake and everyone will know why we share a bed?" Jon tried to jape, however it was clear Sansa didn't find it funny, so he placed his hands on her arms. "I'll be gone no more than three days, I promise." Sansa nodded as he spotted Littlefinger leaving the crypts. "Find out his plans. I've just threatened him to keep away from you. Have Lord Royce stand in the servants entrance in your chambers and encourage the weasel to confess a crime so that I can kill him when I get back. If you do, send me a raven telling me my wedding cloak is complete."
"There will be a trial by the time you return." Sansa sighed and nodded.
"I'll leave Ghost and warg into him every night. I'll still be with you, just remember that." Jon offered.
"I'll miss you." she complained, although she seemed somewhat mollified with his answer. "I love Ghost, but he's not you...even when he is."
He kissed her gloved hand. "I'll miss you too, your grace." he closed in and whispered into her ear. "I'll especially miss the way you like to wake me up in a morning." he smirked and Sansa blushed. Sansa had taken to waking Jon up by pressing her arse against his manhood, a sign she was trusting him with her body. They hadn't discussed whether Sansa would be ready to consummate the marriage on their wedding night, as Jon didn't want to pressure her, instead he'd be happy to settle with the greater amount of intimacy for the time being.
Jon pushed aside those thoughts and climbed atop of his horse. He gave Sansa one last smile and set off towards the gates, to the head of the eight man party and set off on to the snowy Kingsroad, with Tormund beside him and three sleighs behind, each ridden by two men.
Jon was exhausted the next morning when they finally reached Castle Cerwyn. They had stopped during the night to rest where Jon had managed to warg into Ghost, only to find Sansa screaming. He'd tried to nudge her awake but she just kept thrashing around, and he was completely useless in the body of a direwolf. Afterwards he'd hardly slept, therefore it was fortunate the ride wasn't too slow as the sleighs worked better than a standard wagon, however the icy wind did slow them down somewhat and it had been late morning by the time they had set off. By the time they arrived, a lot of the cargo had already been loaded onto the two sleighs Lord Cerwyn had provided. The table was still on a boat, as were the clothes and books. The first thing to be unloaded was the remainder of the dragonglass. Jon took charge of the unloading from land as one dark-haired lad directed from the boat. From a distance, Jon thought he looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place him.
Four hours later and the dragonglass had been loaded up onto the designated sleigh. Next was the table, which was even bigger than Jon had imagined. He just hoped the room he and Sansa had chosen would be large enough to fit it in. if not, the Sept would have to be converted to house the thing. However, Jon's first task was to get it off the boat safely, as this was a valuable antique and he suspected the Dragon Queen was already going to be angry once she found out it had been removed. They used large planks of wood to move the table from the deck and onto the ground, and then on to the sleigh, where it only just managed to fit, and this was only the table top. The remaining pieces of the table were placed on the final sleigh, along with the books and clothes, most of which were in some type of Targaryen design, to which Tormund looked on in distaste. There were some other packages Jon discovered, which had come from White Harbor. Most were labelled for Sansa, piquing Jon's interest, but he knew better than to look. If they were important, Sansa would show him the contents. What he did find of great interest, was ten barrels or Arbor gold and ten barrels of Dornish red, presumably from Lord Manderly as a wedding gift. Jon could think of far better wedding gifts than fancy wine, but Sansa would deem it useful. She would remind him that a feast was an excellent time to improve alliances, an argument Jon couldn't refute.
"Is this what they wear in the south?" the red-haired wildling asked.
"I've no idea." Jon shrugged. "Last time I was in the south, I was suckling from the teets of my wet-nurse." they both laughed as the dark-haired lad who Jon had spotted earlier approached.
"Can we help you boy?" Tormund asked.
"Begging your pardon, Lord Snow..." the lad started.
"Lord Snow?" Tormund bellowed. "He's a King. It's your grace to you."
Suddenly the lad bowed. "Your grace." he said as Tormund laughed.
"And you are?" Jon raised an eyebrow, although he suspected he knew what was coming.
"It's Gendry, Your Grace. I'm Robert Baratheon's son. Bastard son." Gendry replied, his face earnest and ready to please.
"And you felt it safe to tell a Targaryen King that you are a Baratheon?" Jon asked, although he couldn't dislike the lad, despite what Jon knew he was going to do with Arya.
"Our fathers trusted each other. Why shouldn't we?" Gendry seemed to not understand what Jon meant.
Jon stood tall with his hands behind his back, trying to look as kingly as possible. "Your father killed mine on the battlefield." Gendry looked confused. Jon shook his head, remembering Gendry was from Flea Bottom and wasn't known for being bright. "I saw your father once at Winterfell."
"I met yours in my shop." Gendry grinned, still not realising Jon wasn't Ned's son, so he decided to leave it be for the time being.
"You're a lot leaner." Jon smiled. Gendry looked like a clean-shaven, young Robert, before he'd been ruined by wine and gluttony.
"You're a lot shorter." Gendry said, to which Jon stopped smiling for a moment. Gendry swallowed, as if he realised he'd insulted a King. Jon chuckled, knowing he'd got the upper hand. "I grew up on stories about them."
"All I ever knew was they fought together and won. Ser Davos told me what you're doing, Your Grace, and I want to help you. I'm a fine smith, my Master even showed me how to work Valyrian steel." he told him as Jon and Tormund's eyes met briefly.
"It will also include fighting. Do you know how to use a sword?" Jon asked and Gendry shook his head. "Well, that's a problem." Jon sighed. "We might have to train you up..." he started.
"I prefer a hammer." Gendry grinned. "I can handle myself."
Jon nodded. "We could use the help."
"If what you said is true about what's out there, I can't wait out this war." Gendry said.
"Davos told you?" Jon asked.
"He said the army of the dead were marching on the wall." Gendry explained.
"Well lad, when you've finished unloading all of that stuff on to the last sleigh, then we'll see how good you are with a hammer." Tormund grinned. "If you are half as good as me, I'll treat you to some sour goats milk."
Jon slapped his arm around Gendry. "Gendry, this is Tormund Giantsbane. I'd warn you against his skills with a hammer, but I suspect you really should worry more about the effects of the goats milk."
Jon had been right to warn Gendry about the goats milk. The poor lad had only drank one horn before spending the night throwing up. However, Jon had to admit the boy had excellent skills with the hammer, and Jon understood how his own father perished at the hands of the superior warrior of Gendry's own sire.
The next morning,after another night of feeling helpless while Sansa screamed, Jon and his men were preparing to leave Castle Cerwyn. Gendry was complaining of a thick head, while Jon was making sure all of the horses and sleighs were fully tacked up. Just as he was checking his own horse, Lord Cerwyn approached.
"Your Grace." Lord Cerwyn called out as Jon stood up and gestured for the man to approach.
"How can I help?" Jon asked.
"A raven came for you this morning. From Winterfell." he said, handing Jon an unopened parchment with the grey wax direwolf sigil on it. Jon opened it to find Sansa's beautiful writing. The letter was short and to the point.
"Fuck me, she did it." Jon looked up at Tormund in shock. "We need to hurry back, now." he said.
"You ride on ahead, go to your lady love. I'll bring the goods back." Tormund looked around. "Gendry can ride with me. I don't think I told him about Sheila."
Jon's face dropped. "Don't give him ideas."
Tormund put his most innocent face on. "Me?" he asked, before starting to laugh. "Just go. Leave this to me." he said. Jon nodded and hugged his friend, before climbing atop his horse and setting off for Winterfell.