authorsnotes: I AM ON A ROLL hmm, anywho, I do hope you enjoy! I am really feeling the asoiaf inspiration atm, so roll on other updates.

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songrecs: you should see me in a crown - billie eilish

"Jon"

Her voice was soft, a gentle kind of hum in his ear, a touch on his shoulder, gentle. He felt warm, but his eyes heavy, not enough sleep, and yet as he felt a little shake, his eyes peeling open, a yawn leaving his lips almost immediately, the light just creeping past the heavy curtains (though barely, winter was here), he knew that morning had come.

Sansa stood over him, a hot cup of tea in her hands which she passed to him before picking her own up from the table and settling down in the chair next to him. The fire still roared, Ghost sat at her feet (he rarely left Sansa's side now, only with Jon to hunt and fight), and the dawn had just begun to creep over the horizon, marking a new day.

He had fallen asleep in front of the fire in the Lords chambers, with Sansa doing the same on the chair next to him, something they had done several times before. Staying up late to talk, discuss, debate, eyes heavy, fire crackling before they would wake the next morning, tired, not enough sleep, an ache in his arm. A blanket had been slung over him in the night and he knew Sansa had likely gone to her bed but left him to slumber, he was thankful for sleep was rare now, as much as he ached.

This was a common occurrence for them, but this time it felt different, and as he allowed himself to wake up, took a sip of the hot drink that burnt his throat but certainly opened his eyes, he realised why it felt different as he looked over at Sansa, a report on the new glass gardens in her lap, sipping her own drink, oblivious to his concerns.

Falling asleep in the room of his young, maiden sister, both unmarried could be construed as inappropriate, as she was a half-sister, they were too old for such things, neither married. Before he'd never been concerned about such things, neither had Sansa, but now? With Lord and Lady Stark (though he supposed he and Lady Sansa held those titles now, in a sense, ugh, that made his headache, he was not a Stark … you are to me), alive and just next door, he felt uneasy.

"Jon stop worrying" Sansa scolded, for she didn't know what he was worrying about but could tell clear as day from his silence. He shot her a brooding glare in response to which she laughed, and he felt a smile touch at his lips. Perhaps he should take her advice, they had more important things to worry about after all, though he still felt that unease and knew tonight he'd need to sleep in his own bed.

The night before they'd stayed up late, Sansa raking through the food reports, he through troop reports. There hadn't been enough time or daylight to go through what they needed to, and so by candle light they'd worked, though they still had plenty to do, there was always plenty to do, always work and toil.

"We need to think what to do today" Sansa commented and he nodded, taking another sip, offering Ghost a scratch behind the ears as he drew closer, before settling down between him and Sansa, in front of the fire, the great direwolf nearing the size of a small pony now, but so at ease with them.

"Aye, more preparations to make" He said as he reached for the report he'd placed to one side. The numbers never added up, the figures would never be enough but that didn't halt the work, how could it? War approached.

"Yes" Sansa said with a nod before closing her report and turning to him, he in courtesy did the same, the figures already hurting his eyes and head, "But today we have to think on something else"

Jon raised an eyebrow then, "We have to prioritise the upcoming war Sansa" He said with a confused expression, only mollified as Sansa nodded.

"I know" She said, taking another sip, which he did the same, "But we need to figure out what to do about Mother, Father and Rickon"

Jon sighed then; she had the right of it. The War for the Dawn crept ever closer, and the Old Gods had responded by reviving half the Stark family. Jon still struggled to see what that meant and resolved to visit the Godswood later, right now (as glad as he was to have them back), it created more of a challenge than a solution, and he couldn't understand how it was supposed to help.

And, what were they supposed to tell the North?

"You are King" Sansa said, "That won't change"

"I'm not worried about that" He said immediately, he wasn't, he would always honour his duty, the faith the Northern Lords had placed in him, but right now that wasn't his biggest concern.

"Good, you shouldn't be, you have the Northern support, but you will need to tell them this, call it magic" Sansa said in reassurance, her belief in him always giving him faith, and Jon nodded.

"Honesty" Jon nodded, "Not the full truth, but most of it"

"I'll get Robb and Father to make sure they say they honour you as King" Jon winced then, he knew Lady Catelyn wouldn't like it, but he was no longer scared of her, not a boy anymore.

Part of him felt guilty, like he was taking something, stealing it even, away from the rightful owners, taking something that wasn't his. His Father and brother were the rightful Lords, was he stealing it? Keeping it for himself when he shouldn't? He glanced at Sansa then who offered him a sympathetic smile, she always knew what he was thinking.

"You earned this" She whispered gently, and held her hand out to him, he didn't hesitate to take it. "Hardly any other Lord can say that. You weren't just born to it, you earned it, it is yours" He nodded then, though he didn't quite believe her, and he could see she knew that, but offered him her belief all the same.

His perceptive sister, nothing got past her, not anymore.

"It doesn't feel like mine" He whispered back, knowing he'd never betray any of his fears to anyone but Sansa, here in this room, with the only other soul present being Ghost, silent, never to betray his secrets, just as he knew Sansa wouldn't.

"It is" She said, and smoothed a thumb over his knuckles, to which he squeezed her hand, "It is yours"

"And yours" Jon said back, for she may not be a Queen in name, but it was just as much her Kingdom as his, Lady of Winterfell.

She smiled at that, and that warmed his heart, as he nodded his head, it was no good lamenting on his own feelings of insecurity, they had work to do. He could dwell on his feelings of inferiority that would always come from his birth, his status, but he couldn't, not now. There would be time to feel insecure when the war was won.

"When we announce this, we should follow up with announcing the placements I tend to make. The new rulers of the Dreadfort, Karhold and Moat Calin" Jon said, forgetting his own worries for a minute to turn back to tactics, something he shone at against all odds.

Sansa nodded, "And you won't change your mind on the Karstarks?"

"This will buy their loyalty forever" Jon said with a nod, "Ripping them out would only ensure an uprising later, this will ensure they remain loyal forever Sansa"

"You know I disagree" Sansa said with a sigh, "But I won't challenge you" And Jon nodded.

They made a good team he felt, they questioned one another, but never in public. They debated and argued but always ended the day with a smile and a commitment to ruling. They always put the North first, their land, their people. He listened to her and she to him, they ruled fairly and justly.

And would continue to do so.

He knew the Old Gods had sent back his family for a reason, a good reason no doubt, but as he felt that pang of guilt in his stomach as Sansa sat up to grab the options of regents of the Castles, he knew the reason couldn't be to give the North rulers, for they didn't lack that, not anymore.

She knew Jon was brooding, as he often did, so plagued by the insecurities of his childhood, of the stain bastard (and she still felt the horrendous guilt that she had contributed to that, she could never forgive herself for that, even as Jon accepted her apology and offered reassurances - I will make it up to him, now and forever), he was no doubt feeling as though he'd taken the right to rule away.

But Jon was a good ruler, wise, kind, smart, strong. The people respected him, they adored him even, and she knew the presence of her Father and Robb wouldn't change that. She loved them both dearly, but Jon was the better ruler, she knew that, and she knew the people of the North did too.

And so, she didn't have the same concerns Jon did, as she stood with Littlefinger and Lord Royce, talking about food, armour and supplies. She didn't have the same insecurities as Lord Royce hung behind to discuss sword production and fletching with one of the workers, no, as Littlefinger walked beside her, she had other worries, many of them.

She had trained under the best, Cersei, Olenna, Littlefinger himself, but she was no fool, not arrogant enough to believe she could outwit Petyr Baelish. He was always about 5 steps ahead, and though she had the upper hand with his infatuation with her, it didn't offer much, not enough.

And so, her worries weren't around Jon's position as King, she'd kill Littlefinger herself before she'd let him take over (and having never even struck with a dagger that certainly spoke of her devotion to Jon), no, she had two very specific worries of her own.

Littlefinger, and what he planned, and specifically how much trouble he'd be once her Mother returned.

Her place.

She knew she should focus more on the first, devote all of her energy and attention to bringing the spymaster down, but alas her mind kept drifting to the second.

She was certain Jon was secure, the Northern people loved him, saw him as an incarnation from the Gods when his tale of resurrection had spread. He had liberated their home, reunited them with their families, worked tirelessly to protect them and now would become even more popular by offering new Lordships and cementing old alliances.

Regardless of Robb and Father (the former who she imagined Jon would give a Lordship to, and the latter didn't even want to rule and would be a very useful advisor), she knew Jon would remain King, no matter what her Mother, Littlefinger or anyone else had to say about it.

'The King in the North!'

Jon was King.

But what about her?

At the moment she knew she was Queen in all but name. She sat at Jon's side, she performed all the functions of a Queen – visiting the smallfolk, overseeing operations, helping with the running of the Castle. She patted small children on the head, offered beleaguered farmers a sip of water and oversaw proceedings with Jon in the main room, she wore no crown, but she stood as a Queen.

She wore the Stark direwolf on her dress, exited the room with Jon, and counselled him, as he did to her. She was Queen in almost every sense of the title, and she against all her own assumptions adored every second of it.

But how could it possibly last?

For now, it was fine, Jon needed her help, they showed a united front and the War for the Dawn made an easy distraction to the internal politics of Winterfell, but she knew that wouldn't last.

Already Lords dropped hints, their daughters had travelled to the Northern Capitol, and even Littlerfinger had made sly remarks that Jon would soon need to wed. Every time she heard those comments, every time a Lord shoved one of his pretty daughters forward (which she hated, she sympathised with Cersei on that one and only point, were they cattle?!), every time Littlefinger made a remark, or a Lord suggested it was time for Jon to marry she felt a fury burn deep in her heart.

If she looked closer she'd recognise it was perhaps more than just an upset at losing her current position, but she didn't look at that … not yet at least.

Still, she lamented on the idea, as Littlefinger walked beside her, silent but watching her, she thought of Jon, and his Queen.

Who would it be?

Perhaps Mira Forrester? She'd shown up at Winterfell oneday, with Asher her brother, asking permission to claim back Whitehall. They'd returned 2 days earlier, overjoyed that Asher was now Lord and Mira had plenty of thanks for Jon, for the men he'd sent to aid. She was pretty, close to Winterfell, and looked at Jon with a smile.

What about Wylla Manderly? Her hair that eye watering shade of green, and yet she wore it with such confidence it was charming rather than ugly. She laughed freely, carried a dagger at her hip and had even made Tormund spew ale in laughter one eve. She also eyed Jon with a mischievous little grin. With Little Walder long dead, and her eyes on a new betrothal, would she come for Jon?

There were so many other girls as well, Wylla's sister Wynafred, who was quieter, more reserved but no less pretty. What about the Mormont girls? Lyra and Jorelle who probably reminded Jon of Arya, fierce and outspoken, and both with eyes for Jon. And then there were so many others, Charlotte Cerwyn, Amary Dustin, girls from minor houses and large, and Jon to all of them was the greatest prize the North could offer.

She didn't want to lose her position, and as she thought of Jon, of her seat at the table, she thought over what she'd known for a little while now; she wanted to be Queen, and she wanted to keep on being Queen, long after the War.

"Everything okay Sansa?" Her thoughts were interrupted then by Petyr Baelish and she was sure he'd interrupted her thought stream intentionally to put her on the backfoot. Still, if anything she was thankful for his intrusion, as she put her thoughts on Jon, on being Queen and the legion of girls in Winterfell to take that position to one side.

"Quite alright Lord Baelish" Sansa responded, her face blank. That was an area she'd mastered, her face, voice, tone, body language never betraying anything. First her courtesies in Kings Landing and now just a blank expression kept her thoughts her own. "Just thinking on the food situation"

"Yes" Lord Baelish said, "Has Jon allowed you to go ahead with the glass gardens?"

She bristled at that, even though she knew what he was trying to do, and she hated herself for rising to it a little, still so much to learn … "Yes" She responded, for arguing with him would only give him what he wanted, though she caught his smile and she knew, he'd seen her tense, point to him. "Construction started this morning"

"Good" He nodded then and came to a pause, turning to her. Sansa took a breath as she turned to him. She had no trust for Lord Baelish, and found him slippery at best. Every conversation with him taxed her, it felt like wrestling with a snake, one that was as likely to bite her as bite her enemies, unpredictable, dangerous. "Sansa, I hope you know you are as important to running Winterfell as your half brother, maybe more"

"Thank you Lord Baelish" Was all she offered, a tight smile on her face, let him think he was sewing tension, let him think he was breaking up the Stark alliance, let him think whatever kept her in some semblance of control with him.

For she knew, and Jon knew, she'd die before she betrayed him, as she knew he would for her.

"Good" He nodded then, "Do you remember what I said to you in the Vale? About men?" He paused then, testing her, as he often had in the Eyrie. Once she'd failed often, now she kept her gaze on him as she spoke, she didn't fail now, hadn't for a long time and wouldn't again.

"Everyone wants something, and when you know what a man wants you know who he is, and how to move him" Her tone had dropped to a whisper. She despised the man, but she had to acknowledge he had taught her much.

"Good" He said with a nod and offered her a smile, "Do not forget that" And then with a nod he was walking away and she felt the tension sag in her shoulders.

Like a snake.

"Father"

Jon stepped into the room, Lady Catelyn thankfully was asleep, Rickon next to her, but his Father at the desk in the guest room, entirely out of place here, he should be occupying his solar, at the head of things. Again Jon felt that pang of guilt, it wasn't easy to shrug off this time.

"Jon" It was easier when Lord Stark offered him a smile and pulled out a chair for him, nodded to it, "Is everything okay?"

Jon nodded, "Yes" He sat down then, and silence fell for a minute.

"I did miss you my son" His Father spoke.

Jon smiled then, for as confused as he was at what the Old Gods had given him, he couldn't deny, no matter what it meant, it was good to have them back, "As I did you, I often look to you for advice, in the crypt, or in my prayers" He added, not revealing it was rare for him to pray now, what god did he follow now? The Red God who'd returned him? Or the Old Gods who'd returned his family?

Or were they one in the same?

A question for the scholars ... a question one day for him.

"I'm glad I can now offer it in person" He said with a smile, "What can I help with?"

"Nothing specific" Jon said, and he knew he looked tired, older, whereas Lord Stark hadn't aged a day since leaving for Kings Landing, Jon knew he had lines of stress, he was a man not a boy, and the weight of the world hung heavy on his back now. "I'll be revealing to the Northmen tonight what has happened"

"How do you plan to explain it?" Eddard Stark shot back, all business now, Jon found it useful, it reminded him of discussing plans with Sansa, though perhaps a bit more serious.

"Magic" Jon said, "I… I should probably explain"

He did then, giving the non-condensed version of his story he had given before, in his solar. His Father didn't interrupt, just nodded, and gave the occasional 'hmm'. He was patient as Jon spoke of his journey, through his time at Castle Black, with the wildlings, the invasion of the Wall, Hardhome, his treaty with the freefolk, right up until the moment he had been killed.

"And the Lords of the North know this?" He asked, interrupting for the first time, with over forty minutes having passed.

"Aye" He nodded then, it had never been kept from the Northern Lords, the wildlings had spread the tale and Sansa had insisted it would only help him rule, as with many things she had been right.

"Good" Was all he offered and then motioned for Jon to carry on, which he did, finishing as he had prayed to the Weirwood, and the Stark family had returned.

"The Lords of the North will accept your explanation I think" He said with a nod, "I would make it clear it came from the Old Gods, you'll convince the most devout that way and others will follow"

Jon nodded, and he felt a real sense of warmth. To be able to talk strategy with his Father, it was something he'd wished many a time over the years he could do, being able to do so was truly a gift and a great help. It was more than sentimentality, Lord Stark knew his stuff.

They discussed Jon's plan to return the Castles Karhold to a member of the Karstark family (though Jon didn't quite specify who, for he hadn't completely disregarded Sansa's advice, Castle Karhold would be in Karstark hands ... in a sense). His Father agreed, it would create loyalty forever, the Karstarks would not revolt again when gifted something they had almost gambled away on the wrong side.

"I plan to give the Dreadfort to Robb" Jon said, he hadn't discussed it yet with Sansa, and he knew he'd need to get her okay (as he did with everything, not because he needed it, but wanted it, even if she disagreed, he would keep her informed, he owed her that respect).

"A fine decision" His Father said with a smile, and Jon smiled back, that warmth was present again.

"What about you Father? I could find you a holdfast?" Jon felt almost embarrassed to say that, as though he were giving something to the man who'd raised him, the man who perhaps deserved to be ruling where he was. It felt ridiculous, like he was giving it in pity, it wasn't his intention but it felt condescending.

But Lord Stark shrugged it off with a shake of his head, "My ruling days are behind me Jon, and I am glad to see them gone, I will stay here and help you if that is what you wish and allow"

Jon again felt even more embarrassed, and he was sure his cheeks were pink. He'd never envisioned a day his Father would ask permission of him for something, but he nodded all the same and felt the need to acknowledge just how much he would value Lord Starks presence here, "It would be my honour to make you my Master of War" It would, he was tempted to ask him to be his Hand, but Ser Davos had earned that post, and Jon relied too much on the man to dishonour him in that kind.

"It would be my honour to accept" They clasped hands then, and Jon felt a surge of pride in himself, and he hoped he had made his Father proud.

'Let them say Eddard Stark has fathered four sons, not three'

"There is something I do need to discuss with you Jon" His Father said, as they released one another. He noticed him glance over at Lady Catelyn, still slumbering before turning back to him then, his expression indecipherable. "But it can wait until after the announcement tonight"

Jon was puzzled then, "Can we not discuss it now?" He asked, for he felt oddly nervous, what was this?

But Lord Stark shook his head, "No, I think tonight is better, will you meet me in the crypt after the announcement and dinner?"

Jon nodded but couldn't help but press, "Yes of course but Father…"

"Please Jon, trust me" He asked, and Jon found himself nodding, he did trust his Father, implicitly, and so he nodded and let it go … for the moment. "And know how proud of you I am"

He knew his cheeks were red then, pride and embarrassment and happiness hitting him all at once, and he didn't hesitate as Lord Stark stood up and pulled him into a hug. He felt like a man as they slapped one another's backs, he felt like a King. He wore no crown and yet his head felt heavy as he stepped back and looked across at his Father, as equals.

A knock on the door interrupted him and he saw Lady Catelyn stir, Rickon too as Sansa stepped inside, Robb following behind her.

"I thought we might discuss the announcement we're to make in a few hours" Sansa said, as she looked over at Jon. He offered her a nod and she one back, they had more to catch up on privately he knew.

It wasn't that he didn't trust their family, of course he did, but certain things needed to be kept in a small group, quiet, and if he had to choose anyone to trust over others, it would be Sansa. And so, they gave one another a look before everyone sat down at the large table.

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he gave her a tiny nod, like their own language almost, one that had come in use time and time again. It wasn't something they'd even developed, but something that had just come, a consequence of two people so in one another's confidence it just naturally happened.

"Jon has explained to me your plan" His Father interrupted, his expression one of … tension almost? Jon wasn't sure where that had come from, Robb looked the same he noticed, and Lady Catelyn openly hostile, which he found himself ignoring. "Jon could you elaborate for us all?"

Jon nodded then, gave Sansa another look, another nod and then he began to explain, oblivious to the tension and the look the three other Starks shared. He didn't notice and neither did Sansa, as they focused only on one another.

soo thoughts?

I do hope you enjoyed! just a few bits:

- nope, no one has guessed the big ole twist yet, but pls keep guessing, I love to hear your guesses!

- pairing for this story? I think you can guess but not 100% yet, and this story will not be a fluff-fest, be warned.

do let me know your thoughts! I actually found Ned quite hard to write, but eh, he'll be a reasonably common pov, though jon will be the dominant, sansa 2nd, then others coming up behind.

anywho, follow/fav for updates, and speak soon!