Chapter 118

Arya sat on the arm of the chair Jon had just taken. She wasn't letting him out of arm's length. He was her brother, and she needed him close. The why didn't matter, what mattered was that she did and no one was stopping her. "Why do you look like you need to take a shit?"

"Lovely as always." Sansa tapped her fingers against the arm of her chair. She looked at Jon. "I suppose it'd too much to hope you alone came to the realization about your lineage?"

Daisy spoke up from where she was snuggling Joramun on the rug by the fire, legs crossed beneath herself. "Well he rode a dragon in front of Highgarden in the middle of the day. So…"

Sansa gave a long sigh. "Well, it was worth hoping for."

"Wait, you rode a dragon. You're a dragon rider!" Arya had kinda missed that bit, what with Jon's general misery and the realization their father apparently had lied. "You're taking me flying."

Jon actually smiled slightly. "Aye, I'll take you flying."

She preened, that was amazing. Arya raised a brow, looking at her sister. "Why do you look miserable?"

"Because this changes things." Sansa bit out, clearly irritated they weren't taking whatever her worry was seriously.

Arya gripped Jon's wrist. "It changes nothing. He's our brother. You agreed with that."

"The weight of my affection is not changed, that does not mean it does not change a great deal of the realities ahead of us." Sansa snapped, her frustration plain to hear.

Jon's eyes settled on their sister. "What do you mean?"

"It means you have a claim to the Iron Throne, Jon," Sansa said it as near a death sentence.

The room fell silent. Because fuck. Fuck.

"I don't want it," Jon uttered, exhausted as he clearly understood that wouldn't matter a great deal.

Sansa looked pityingly at him. "Which may have mattered more, but it cannot be ignored if you hold enough blood of Old Valaryia to ride a dragon."

"I'm a bastard. Daenerys is trueborn. The Targaryen claim is her's." Jon argued.

Arya's hand squeezed Jon's wrist. Because he wasn't stupid. They all knew the chaos of a legitimized bastard with a claim to the throne. Their history was full of it. Jon had nearly been named King of the North over both Sansa and Rickon, which spoke of how real the danger would be to the Targaryen camp.

"And you were raised in Westeros, your father and mother were beloved by the people during their lives, and you are a man." Sansa was unflinching. "So we must neutralize your threat to Daenerys if we mean for this alliance to go forward."

Rickon frowned. "Why wouldn't it?"

"Because if there was a moment to kill Daenerys, steal her power and armies, it would be now," Sansa said as if that wasn't insane.

Jon was on his feet, outrage pouring off of him. "We have committed ourselves to this alliance!"

"She's not serious," Arya said dryly. She knew enough about her sister to know she'd loath every moment of taking control of the South.

His head turned to face her, clearly expecting Arya to explain.

Ayra sighed, the world was strange. She spoke 'Sansa' now. "She's saying she would fight a war for you, fuck honor, and what is wise if it is what you want." Her eyes narrowed. "Also, to ensure we are in agreement on our purpose."

"Why would you think I would want that?" Jon's face cracked slightly as he looked at Sansa.

Sansa sighed. "I don't, but it needed to be said."

Rickon's voice was very quiet. "You're terrifying sometimes."

"Thank you." Sansa's voice was dry.

Arya yanked Jon back into his seat. "Idiot." She groaned. "So, how do we get Jon to abdicate properly then?"

"The good options that won't lead to another war within a generation? He marries Daenerys binding their two claims or he becomes a eunuch." Sansa sighed. "The North won't be pleased, but the Vale no longer goes to Daenerys, so there's that."

Jon's mouth pulled. "So we continue as we are save for a change in terms."

"You are a more valuable bridegroom," Sansa answered.

Arya snorted. "Look at that, you're a commodity."

Bran spoke. "There's a third option."

Arya's eyes narrowed as she looked at her sister's face which had just gone blank. "Sansa?"

"That's not an option." Her attention not leaving Bran, but her voice had a tension to it that Arya did not like.

He didn't flinch from their sister's reaction, however. "You could keep Jon in the North, as a Stark."

"I-" Sansa cut herself off, head half shaking. "War would still be a risk. This alliance would be near impossible to make stand."

Bran was unflinching. "You insisted on being honest."

"What is he talking about?" Jon asked slowly.

Daisy reached out from where she was sitting, her hand curling around Sansa's ankle. Her face was faintly confused but mostly concerned.

Arya's eyes narrowed as she saw the almost flinch at the contact her sister made. That was… "Sansa, explain."

"Fine." Sansa straightened in her seat. "If you don't bind your claim to Daenerys or remove it entirely, you must marry outside of Targaryen reach. A marriage that politically makes you untouchable without full war while also indicating your utter lack of concern with the iron throne, outside the bounds of the southern game."

"Who?"

Sansa was tight, and controlled in a way she wasn't when it was just family. Ever. "You marry me, Jon. If you are King Consort to the North, you remain in the North. The balance of power would be uneasy, but it could be made stable. Giving up a claim on one throne for another is…not unreasonable."

"Unreasonable?! He's our brother!" Arya spluttered.

"Cousin." Sansa pointed out, though she looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Jon didn't flinch at the word 'cousin', instead, he was mostly looking horrified.

Sansa's voice was sharp. "It's not possible, so there is no need to discuss it. Besides, I hardly see how it's shocking as an option."

"You don't get how it's shocking you'd consider marrying Jon?" Arya may speak 'Sansa', but her sister still was the weirdest person she was related to…and Bran was their brother.

Sansa's hands moved with her words in plain frustration. "How is it shocking?"

"He's our brother!" Arya could have strangled her sister. "He's the Targaryen, not you."

Jon made a sound.

She whacked him without looking at him. "Jon's got the right idea. We're Starks, not sister fuckers."

"Cousin." Sansa glared. "And that's hardly the point. It'd ensure I remain a Stark, prevent a faction forming around whatever House I'll be forced to marry," her tone lowered, "it would keep him safe, and I would not fear Jon raping me. So forgive me if you find it so distasteful that I trust our brother and would use my body to protect him if necessary. All of which is beside the point as it cannot happen, so I hardly see the point in this argument."

It was silent save for the crackling of the fire.

Rickon piped up from his spot, voice hesitant and full of caution, chin tipped submissively ever so slightly. "Why can't it happen?" He flinched slightly as all of them looked at him. "It's just…you keep saying why it'd work. But then you say it can't happen? So…why?"

Actually, he had a point. Arya's head snapped back around to Sansa. She took in the expression on her sister's face. It was…her cheeks were flushed, looking horribly uncomfortable and stubborn in the tilt of her chin. "Why does it matter?"

"You're fine with fucking our brother if that's not what makes you think it impossible, what could possibly make you flinch?" She ignored whatever Jon was doing. Her gaze was unflinching as she held her sister's gaze.

Their staring contest was interrupted by Bran. "You planned to break that oath in time." He had the faintest air of confusion.

"Oath?" Jon uttered.

Sansa's jaw tightened. "I can't marry Jon." She seemed to teeter on the edge of something, and then she continued. "Because I'm already married."

"Oh." Jon stood up. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Arya looked back and forth between the quiet understanding on Jon's face and the barely not crying of Sansa. "Wait, what? Already married? Who-" Her eyes caught how Daisy distinctly looked like she was trying to sink through the floor. Had been looking like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole for a while now actually.

"I know it was stupid and selfish but-" The air caught in Sansa's throat, she was clearly holding back sobs through sheer stubbornness.

Jon was across and to her in three strides and half-hauled her out of her seat so he could hug her. "No, none of that. I'm sorry you didn't think you could tell us."

Sansa allowed herself to be raised. She was still for a horrible moment and then softened hugging back Jon as fiercely as ever.

It was…well. Arya's head tilted to the side. When the fuck had Sansa had time for that? But she was planning on marrying Loras? "Loras knows then." She groaned, letting her head fall back. Gods her siblings were ridiculous. Was she the normal one? She'd never have assumed that but Bran was a tree, Rickon had to be reminded not to bite people, Jon rode a dragon now, and apparently, Sansa had married her lover in secret at some point. For fucks sake. Sansa never got to call her dramatic again.

/

Jon hugged his sister tightly before pulling back. "How long?"

"The day after Rickon's name-day." Sansa was clearly trying to put herself back together. "It was-"

"You love each other." Jon wondered how many Starks would lose all sense for love? Of the six of them that was Robb, him, and now Sansa. He begged fate that his sister's choice did not perish in her arms as his and Robb's had. However, the idea of something killing Daisy was rather ridiculous.

Arya griped from where she was still seated on the arm of a chair. "You couldn't have mentioned this in the weeks since then? I'm your bloody spymaster."

"It was not exactly planned." Sansa's cheeks were flushed.

Jon noticed the wafting uncertainty from Daisy. He held out his hand. "You wed my sister without planning it out?"

Daisy might not be pale like the rest of them, but even her skin gave way to the heat in her face as she accepted the hand and allowed him to pull her onto her feet. "Sorry?" There was the faintest waver to her voice.

A thing Sansa clearly picked up on, her hand catching Daisy's the second Jon dropped it.

"I can't believe Loras knew before me," Arya grumbled. "Fucking Loras."

Jon frowned. "Wait, Loras knows?"

"Obviously." Arya scoffed, crossing her arms.

"He was the witness." Sansa looked at Daisy and raised their entwined hands, pressing a kiss to the back of Daisy's hand with clear affection

Rickon hopped over, hugging both Sansa and Daisy, a grin on his face. "Does this mean you're a Stark now?"

"Sansa would be a Jonson." Jon chuckled as he fondly watched his baby brother beaming at Daisy.

Her flush deepened, Daisy's fingers mussing Rickon's hair. "No, you're right. I wouldn't take the Stark name from your sister."

"Wait, you let Sansa cloak you?" Arya's feet hit the ground, her tone delighted. "The Lords are going to have kittens when they find out."

Sansa took a step toward Arya. "They can't find out." Her voice was insistent. "It'd be chaos when we cannot afford it. Please. No one can know outside of this room."

"But you are wed?" Jon frowned looking between the two of them.

Daisy sighed. "Jon, it's a mess. They think I'm a god, and maybe I am one? I don't know and don't care. But people do stupid crap just because I smile at them. What do you think the Tyrells would do if they knew? What do you think any of them would do?"

He grimaced, he didn't know what they would do, but they'd do something that couldn't be ignored. Jon closed his eyes. Daisy inspired reverence and made it so very difficult for that to be expressed. If they knew…they'd focus that reverence on Sansa who would be unable to avoid it. So little loyalty in the South was secure. "Fine, I don't like it though."

"Jon." Sansa's voice had the faintest tinge of pleading in it.

Jon nodded. "I won't say anything, you know I wouldn't." He paused as he watched the tension fade from his sister. But, he ran through what Bran and Sansa had said earlier. Turning he looked at his brother. "What do you mean intends to break her oaths?"

"Sansa intends to wed again," Bran spoke his voice sending a shiver down Jon's spine with its wrongness.

Jon and Arya both made noises of protest. But neither of them got the chance to express how much that was wrong and terrible.

Instead, Sansa spun on Bran, and oh, she was angry. "Because there is a difference! Perhaps not one you understand but there is one. When the day comes I'll do what I must, because there is no other choice that does not harm our family. But I am not some feckless, honorless retch and it may mean nothing to you Bran, but for all that I know how foolish and reckless I've been, I would not change it. Not any of it. What you are asking I will not do. I won't do it."

There was a ringing silence.

Arya cleared her throat. "While my opinion on your whole tragic…what-have-you has not changed. I believe we are agreed we're not cutting Jon's balls off either?"

He flinched but was glad of her presence. They would be speaking about whatever lunacy Sansa had convinced herself into later. "I already meant to marry Daenerys. Our need for this alliance has not changed."

"And Jon likes her." Daisy pointed out helpfully from where she had curled ever so slightly between Sansa and Bran, one hand clearly on Sansa's waist, a distinct lack of personal space between them.

Sansa's eyes had closed as she leaned into Daisy's touch.

Jon…it dawned on him he had never seen them like this. He'd seen them as friends, and he had heard Daisy explain what his sister meant to her. But it was palatably real in this room. He'd never seen Sansa like this with anyone, even in girlhood when she'd trusted and laughed easily. The intimacy of it spoke far more than any words could. He couldn't help the faint smile at them. But he didn't draw attention to it, they all saw. Well except for Bran.

"I'm sure he does." Arya flicked his ear, yanking him out of his thoughts. "So, we're not giving up the Vale any longer then?"

Sansa breathed in and then opened her eyes meeting their eyes. "No, we are not giving up one inch of land any longer."

Jon pressed a kiss to Rickon's hairline, careful not to wake him from his sleep. The boy'd fallen asleep some hours ago. Carrying him to his room had filled Jon with an unspeakable longing to remain. He carefully ensured the furs and blankets were properly tucked up and over Rickon. Jon lingered, reminding himself of every curve, freckle, and bit of his baby brother's face. He finally pulled away. Looking at the door he saw Arya waiting for him, a knowing look on her face. Her face that had horrors untold painted in the depth of her gaze.

He walked past her, halting once in the hall. Jon turned at the sound of her closing Rickon's door. He turned relief at seeing her face. His eyes glanced at the sword hilt on her belt. "You kept Needle?"

"It's a good blade." Her familiar impish grin curled her lips. But her eyes were hard. "Do you really wish to marry this Dragon Queen? If you don't want to we won't allow it to happen."

Jon reached out, his hand resting on her shoulder. "I'm sure. Thank you though, for the offer."

"If you change your mind, killing people is easy." Arya was all wicked slyness. But he knew her enough to know she was worried about something.

He squeezed her shoulder. "I won't." Jon tapped her chin with his knuckles before dropping his hand back down. "Sansa's letters and Daisy explained enough. I know you've done dark things. I'm just glad you're home."

"Theon was right, you're such a girl." But there was gratitude in her face and a faint crack in her voice that said she'd needed to hear his words.

Jon chuckled. "Aye, he wasn't wrong all of the time."

"Just most." Arya leaned against the wall. "Talk sense into Daisy?"

He huffed. "She wouldn't be a Stark if that worked."

"Daisy or Sansa?" Arya raised a brow, clearly amused.

Jon smiled softly. "Both." He slung his arm around his sister's shoulders, pulling them back to the room where no doubt Sansa was still writing out instructions for Marlon and the rest of the diplomatic party. "Promise me you'll at least tell me before you are wed?"

"I don't know, if Redfort keeps making eyes at me I might just steal a Wildling and be done with it." She was hopefully joking. The disgust at the name Redfort was very real.

He was mostly sure Sansa wouldn't let Arya just murder a Vale knight. "I could fight him for you?"

"I can handle my own fights, thanks." Arya leaned into him though. "Did you ever think we'd end up the two most eligible ones in the family?"

Jon snorted outright. "No, never would have dreamt it." He looked fondly at his sister. "Well, I could see it for you. Everyone always said you looked like Lyanna, and she was-" His words died in his throat. Lyanna was his mother.

Arya nudged him. "A great beauty." She gave him a playful look. "You always were pretty, see where you got it now, brother." She pulled away slipping through the door and into Sansa's solar.

Shaking his head he followed, but his heart was warm. They didn't have to keep calling him 'brother', but they were. And mayhap…mayhap someday it would not hurt like a knife to the heart to think on whose blood he carried.