authorsnote: here we gooo
I can't even begin with how hype I am for this story, too hype! I have plotted out loads of it, have a bunch of twists and turns, a fair few deaths, a romance plot or two and lots of angst, fluff and drama! I am so excited to write this and bring it to you all and I sincerely hope you enjoy it!
also stop telling me how to write it I've already planned it all /s (but not really)
do enjoy, let me know if you did!
songrecs: all the things she said - tatu
Her knees buckle beneath her, she can only hear roaring in her ears, lights dance in front of her eyes and she feels she must have fainted, that someone must be shaking her awake. She feels hands on her shoulders, fingers brushing back the hair from her face, a concerned voice. Jon's voice, that she recognises.
She must have fainted, the ground is cold, her body trembles and as Jon pulls her to her feet she still feels dazed, and she tries to remember why.
But then she looks beyond Jon and near hits the ground again.
Father, Mother, Robb, Rickon, Shaggydog, Grey Wind, and then bounding out from behind the Weirwood, Lady.
It is the last one that breaks her, she can feel tears trickling down her cheeks, but her fainting has stopped, it all suddenly seems real, they are back. She has no idea how, no idea what is happening, but they are back.
And then her Mother is running to her, Robb has grabbed Jon, and her Father reaches for her too, placing one hand on Jon's shoulder as well. Rickon runs inbetween them, and Jon pulls him close.
Family, reunited. Only Bran and Arya are missing, and yet she must guess they are alive, somewhere. The entire Stark pack, once scattered and lost … whole again…well almost whole.
"Jon" She manages to speak, because how can this be? He shakes his head as he hugs Rickon close, no one knows how this was done, the look of confusion and shock is mirrored on the face of every Stark, this is a miracle. She'd think a blessing from the gods if she hadn't stopped believing all of that a long time ago.
Perhaps she must start believing again, for what other explanation could there be?
She thinks of Jon's resurrection, and now of the Stark pack near whole again, is this the gods at play?
The look of shock is printed across all of her families faces. Mother and Father are embracing now, were they not together in whatever lay after death? Rickon was clinging to Jon, whilst Robb scooped her up and into his arms, though she was taller than him now.
How had this come to be? The dead returned to life? How?
"Jon" She speaks again, for Jon has become her anchor, her King. It speaks to her shock that her mind doesn't immediately turn to the politics of it all, as Littlefinger had trained her to do. She must be quite surprised not to be analysing the situation as comes naturally to her now.
And they do, politics is second nature to her now, cunning and craftiness. It is not where she thought she'd end up, more spymaster than Lady of the house, and yet she has a talent for the sneakiness that Littlefinger installed in her.
"I don't know" He repeats again, and looks back at the Stark clan, hell he even looks at her Mother in wonder. "But we need to get inside"
She nods, feels her head clear a little bit, they need to get inside and discuss this, figure out what has happened. The mist over her clears a little as Jon turns back to the entrance of the Godswood, "Follow me" She nods, they need to hurry indoors now, and she can see Jon has an urgency to him. She agrees.
Right now they need to figure out what is going on, then they can turn to their people, the people of the North and explain whatever this is, but for now they need to get inside, hide this, until they can determine what to do.
She follows Jon, her arm going to Rickon, he is catching up to her in height but she still pulls him close, as they hurry into the courtyard, heads down, Jon striding at the head of them. Thankfully they are ignored, except for Jon, the people bow and nod, as they do to their beloved King. Thankfully no one thinks to look too closely at Robb or Father, they keep their heads down, Jon diverts the attention, she smiles and they hurry to Jon's solar.
Because it is Jon's solar now, and a little creeping chill seems to hit her neck when the political ramifications do start to hit her.
Jon is the King, her King, the North chose him, the North adore him. They will never set him aside, not even for her Father she thinks or Robb … and she knows as everyone hurries inside, as her Father looks shocked at the minor changes Jon has made, as her Mother seems a hint frosty, and Robb confused.
She knows now things will get complicated. It is good to be reunited, the Stark pack together again, whole as it should be, but that doesn't mean it won't be complicated.
She can love her family and be profoundly grateful to have them home, and yet still nervous about how this will shift the life they have just started building here. At least that's what she tells herself.
She hates herself a little for that – here is her family! The people she has missed so much, her parents who she adores, her brothers, and yet she has already started mulling the power dynamic and the political ramifications!
She glances across at Jon and she is slightly reassured that she can see him thinking the same. They are like that now. Whereas the rest of the Stark's had shunned political cunning, she has been moulded by Cersei, Olenna, Littlefinger, and Jon was Lord Commander of the Wall, a tactician. She is the cunning politician, but he is the leader, the tactician and cunning when needed … they are two figures the Stark's haven't seen before.
Father and Robb, sweet Robb put honour above all, and though she and Jon had put importance on honour, they had put the importance on victory, on winning, higher than all else.
Well, no one can say it didn't work.
Things are about to get complicated, and she braces herself as everyone sits down, and she can see Robb hesitate, her Father thankfully just slides into a seat opposite the desk but she notices Robb going to step around the table, at that Jon goes to move out of their brothers way but she shakes her head at him, a small gesture, yet he nods and takes his seat, thankfully he listens to her.
He is one of the few who did from the start.
He takes his seat, she pulls up one next to him, and then her Father, Mother and Robb sit opposite, Rickon in the corner, entertaining the direwolfs.
It is strange, for her Father and Mother to be visitors in this solar, not in command of it. And yet even as she looks at Jon, a little nervous behind the desk, he looks as though he belongs to it, he owns it.
It could also be to do with the few changes he has made already. Longclaw stands propped against the desk instead of Ice, the desk is weighed down with Jon's papers and plans not her Father's, and the tapestry of the North remains on the wall, but next to it is one of the Wall and Beyond, one Jon had bought from Castle Black. Subtle changes, but then the biggest is Jon sat behind the desk, he wears no crown, but he is a King.
She is happy that their family is reunited, she smiles, for she is thankful, they are not the Lannister's, wishing family dead so not to contest power, but it is still something that needs to be discussed, there are still odd dynamics here, and decisions to be made.
Part of her wishes she could ignore that side of her, ignore the ruthless side that screams at her to determine the power balance, but alas she cannot, Kings Landing beat that into her and Littlefinger solidified it; she can't turn off that part of her brain, even when she wants to.
So, she gives Jon a nod, and he nods back. "So, we have much to talk about aye" He starts, his voice rough, Northern, as the people that love him, "But let's start with this, where have you all been during this time?"
A good question, and an easy way to talk, let those lost begin, she reaches over and gently squeezes Jon's hand before releasing him and turning back to her family, eyeing them shrewdly. God, she missed them, and yet she remains silent as she awaits their answer.
She has missed them, but that doesn't change where her allegiances lay now, to their people, and ultimately to Jon. She'll do anything to keep those people safe, above all else.
He still can't quite believe it.
The air doesn't quite feel real, it feels cold on his skin and yet foreign like it doesn't belong in brushing his skin. The breath in his lungs feels a little forced, his eyes feel too new, brightness more prominent than it should be. It is nothing drastic, nothing crazy, but subtle things he probably wouldn't have noticed.
But he certainly notices now.
He died.
He knows that, he remembers it, he remembers the knife in his gut, the hissed words of Roose Bolton 'the Lannisters send their regards', the grief and sorrow at knowing those were his final moments, the pain at the look on his Mothers face as he fell.
He could almost feel the knife in his gut again, ghosts a hand over the spot but of course now there is no wound … it feels like there should be.
It all just feels a little bit off, a little bit here, a little bit there, and all together that makes him feel … wrong. He is happy to see his family again, to be reunited with his parents, his siblings (though the lack of Arya and Bran concern him, are they alive somewhere? Surely, they must be), but it feels strange. Perhaps it is because he was gone for however long, things are certainly different here, as odd as he feels that he can see. Things have certainly changed.
Wherever he was he doesn't remember it, he isn't up to speed, and so as he looks around the room, at the small changes, he knows he has missed a lot.
Jon for one doesn't look like Jon. Yes, his bastard brother is still there, but he is different now, no longer a shy, brooding outsider. He still broods (clearly), but he is stronger now, in charge, authoritative, he sits in the seat of the Starks, he has taken back Winterfell, he is the leader.
There is no crown on his head but even Robb can see, plain as day – Jon is a King.
He feels the slightest pang of jealousy but not much, being King had been the proudest moment of his life but also the hardest. The responsibility, the authority, the accountability, it had been too much for him, far too much. He looks across at Jon, at the look on his face, a heavy look that speaks of that responsibility he carries, and he knows Jon can carry it better.
When he had named Jon his Heir, way back when before life had fallen apart he had considered whether Jon would make a good King and hadn't been sure, but now as he looks at his brother, burdened by duty, he knows he must be a good King, it is just clear in his presence.
And then there is Sansa, looking almost like a Queen by his side. Beautiful, so beautiful, and he feels a deep pride as he looks across at his sister, but he also feels concerned. She looks older, but burdened too, though in a different way to Jon.
Whereas Jon looks like he carries the weight of the world, Sansa looks like she carries the weight of her experiences, and Robb could cry that his sister, his little sister has had to be burdened by what life has given her.
He can see in her eyes, she is harder, tougher, that little girl glow and naivety long, long gone. He is both proud of that but also sad. He doesn't want his sister to have to have grown up too fast, but he can see as she looks at Jon, as her expression hardens, he can see that she has.
Part of him wonders how much of Jon's rule is down to Sansa, but then he looks at them both, for they are looking at one another (and they seem to be communicating without words), and he realises they both must have fought for this rule, and succeeded, clearly.
He remembers when Sansa called Jon 'half-brother' and turned her nose up at him, now she looks at him with a sort of admiration that honestly unnerves him a little.
He glances at his Father, who has an indeterminable look on his face, and his Mother who he can see is making the same conclusions he is, but is looking far, far unhappier about it.
That is going to be a problem.
"Well?" Sansa speaks then, and she even sounds older, hardened, the little softness to her voice is gone. What has happened to his dear sister to have hardened her so? He isn't sure he wants to know.
"I don't remember" He doesn't. The last thing he remembers is that knife to the gut and he flinches as he thinks of it, almost feels it, beyond that there is nothing, not even darkness. He feels as though he were stabbed yesterday, it is only something in his bones that tells him it has been longer.
"What do you mean?" Sansa asks but Jon shakes his head and she nods. There it is again, the two communicating without a word, just how close have they grown? He glances at his Mother again who is frowning now.
"Was there darkness? Nothingness?" Jon asks, his gruff voice having taken a harder Northern tilt to it, Robb feels less like a Northman sat in front of his brother, and that feels strange, to almost feel like a foreigner in his own country.
"No" His Father speaks then, and he looks confused, but still strong, but then Father has always been strong, "The last thing I remember, the last thought was when I knelt in front of the headsman's axe" He glances at Sansa then Robb can see, perhaps looking to see how she'll react, but she doesn't cry nor flinch, she just sits, stoic, hard.
What has happened to her?
He glances at Jon then who is also sat, stoic looking, eyebrow raised. What has happened to him? Sitting across from him they are like two different people.
"Hmm" Jon sits back, and then looks at Sansa, who speaks next. Unnerving.
"Mother?" Sansa's voice softens just a hint, but not much, "What about you?"
"The same" His Mother's voice is harder, but she smiles at her daughter, softens, "The last thing I remember is the knife at my throat"
"How long ago was that?" Father looks a little nauseous, and Jon stands abruptly, striding towards the door, the room falls silent as Jon sticks his head out, and they can hear him speak kindly to the page just stationed down the corridor, to order whisky and wine, and then to dismiss himself.
He can practically see Mother twitch that Jon is in charge, and he notices Sansa's eyes grow harder. Hmm.
Jon comes back in then, sits himself down, "It's been a while" Is all he offers, and then he falls silent. They all do. "Much has happened" Silence again, it drags, Sansa glances at Jon, Jon nods, Sansa tilts her head. It is like a language, something only they know.
They are the only two that don't flinch when the page returns with a knock.
Sansa answers this time, and he notices she dresses different too, in dark colours, more like Mother. She also has Tully scales on her clothes, and she dresses only in black, like Jon, though he has added some grey. They look like true Starks; he could laugh at that. Sansa, who was so desperate to lose the Stark name, and Jon, never a Stark in name, they now run the Stark household, they are now the Starks of Winterfell.
Sansa takes the drinks from the page, dismisses him, and places them down on the desk. She reaches for wine, Jon whisky, he takes wine, as does his Mother, his Father takes whisky, and then he speaks.
"Tell us" His Father drinks half the glass, thankfully there is a fresh decanter on the tray, "Tell us what has happened" He seems more in control now, he wonders if because Father was gone for longer it took him longer to get used to it. He still feels odd, but is easing as time goes on, perhaps it is the same for Father, who seems more in command of himself now, more like the Eddard Stark they knew. "If you will"
Yet deferential to Jon now, he swears he sees his Mothers eye twitch, and Sansa shoots Jon another glance, honestly Robb thinks that will become infuriating.
"Aye" Jon nods then, drinks his own whisky and sits back, "What has happened" He mulls, and then finishes his whisky before he starts. "It is a long story" Sansa seems to crack a smile then, though it is hard.
Just what has happened?
How is he supposed to explain this?
Years of change, of chaos, of war, of pain? How is he supposed to explain the horrors he has faced; the horrors Sansa has faced? How can he possibly summarise just what they have endured over the years? He is tempted to reach for more whisky but no, he needs a clear head now, as he glances at Sansa, who offers a tiny nod, and then he begins.
"Well I was at the Wall when you all died" He winced then, he should mince his words, but he has become much more blunt as the years have went by, "But from my end, I stayed at the Wall, the dead marched on it, the Others, I was Lord Commander for a time, I let the wildlings through to the Gift before I was killed" He nods then, "So I can sympathise"
"I left the Wall then, but not before Sansa came to me, having convinced Littlefinger to support our cause" He was really resisting reaching for another drink then, and placed the glass down, any mention of Littlefinger makes him want to break something, especially with him still lurking around. "We took back Winterfell, killed the Boltons, I was named King" He drops his gaze then, before he felt Sansa's sharp kick to his shin, he managed not to flinch but does lift his gaze, for he knows that was what she was getting at.
"And then here you are" There, he feels he explained that as best he could, and he glances at Sansa who nods, and picks it up.
"For me, I fled the Lannisters after Joffrey was killed at his wedding, and no, I didn't kill him" She pauses just for a second, "Littlefinger helped me escape, took me to the Vale, I convinced him to go to Jon, to help take back Winterfell" She nods then, he knows she is missing a lot out, but he knows she must have a reason, "And here we are"
"Here we are" Catelyn speaks then, her tone hard, and he has to resist the urge to drop his gaze again. Lady Stark had never been kind, he has to remind himself she is not in charge in here, she has no power over him.
He is in charge. Gods that was odd before, but now? With his Father and brother sat across from the seat of power? It is downright strange.
Only Sansa looks like she is where she belongs, at the right hand of the leader, in charge, in control. Much has changed her, she sits in the seat of power comfortably now, she is strong, and he feels continually proud of her.
"Yes" Sansa speaks, takes a small sip of her wine but he knows she is not a fan of getting drunk, that was one of the things she didn't learn from Cersei; a fondness for drink, he knows she learnt much else. "Here we are, with Jon, who is our King"
"Aye" It is his Father who speaks then, "He is" He feels warm and smiles, smiles at his Father who just about offers one back, he is clearly rallying, whereas Robb still looks confused and slightly off.
"Is he now?" Catelyn speaks then and Jon actually has to stop himself rolling his eyes, he had expected this, but not quite so soon, barely an hour out of the grave and Lady Catelyn is challenging his position, it would almost be amusing if not so predictable.
"Yes Mother" Sansa speaks her voice hard and he feels a twinge of guilt, she loves her Mother but she is clearly taking his side here, he would interrupt and insist it is fine but he knows that would upset her more. "He is"
Just when he figured out what Sansa likes and dislikes, feels and doesn't feel he isn't sure, but he knows she has figured the same for him. It just happened.
"I am" He doesn't want to posture, but he knows this needs to be sorted now, "We'll have to find a way to tell the Northman of your return, they have seen magic, seen mysticism, they'll accept it"
"But they won't accept another King" Sansa finishes what he couldn't.
"And we wouldn't want them to" There, Robb speaks, both Father and Robb have made it clear and at that Lady Catelyn deflates a little, though she still looks unhappy, and Sansa manages to soften just a hint.
"Look, we're back together, as a family" She glances at Rickon who is napping in the corner now, still just a boy, "Bran and Arya must be out there somewhere, they'll come home or we will find them, and we'll be back together" She smiles at Jon then and he smiles back, they miss the look between Lord and Lady Stark then, "That is the most important thing, the family, the pack"
She glances at their Father then, "The lone wolf dies…"
"…But the pack survives" He returns, and Sansa has a smile then, a small one but a smile.
"Aye" Jon nods, "The pack to defend Winterfell"
"The pack" Lord Stark speaks firmly.
"The pack" Robb nods then.
"Family" Lady Catelyn says, her tone clipped, but Jon ignores her tone and words.
The pack, that is the most important thing, the pack, back together, as the voice had said, as it had boomed just before they had been returned.
'The pack must be reunited; the pack must fight the oncoming storm. You Jon Snow will lead the pack! Fight Jon Snow'
The pack, reunited, soon whole, ready to fight. As Sansa had said that was the most important thing, that was what mattered.
The pack.
Always.
so thoughts?
RIGHT I am jumping in before the inevitable comments 'omg why is sansa so cold?, 'why is jon so stoic?' I said in the last chapter this is 70% book, 30% show - sansa has been shaped by some of the dangerous players in the game, she is a player now! she has learnt from cersei, littlefinger, olenna, margaery, she is a player, she is not the naive little girl, she is cold and tough and could probs beat littlefinger at his own game. jon? jon is more book jon, he has ambition, he is smart and tactical not just swinging a sword and refusing to be king (don't even with jons ending, I love kit but damn he was done dirty in the show), and he is more stoic. so pls don't be mad and yell at me for writing the characters this way, it is my story, my interpretation.
saying that I do sincerely hope you enjoyed! also no I won't be revealing pairings yet nor the inclusion of other main characters tho some will be introduced soon(ish).
pls do review and let me know your thoughts, fav/follow for alerts, and see you soon!