authorsnotes: I am VERY VERY happy with how this chapter turned out
do review, I'd love some feedback on this
also I'm trying to update every fic before the end of 2022, with a broken hand, lol, pray for me
songrecs: you're on your own kid - taylor swift (what would I do without taytay? billie, camila, olivia, ariana?, my pop girls carry my songrecs)
In a whirl of skirts, she left the Throne Room, and though she had too much dignity to run, her pace was quick as they hit the stairs, she knew Jon followed her, and they moved quickly to the guest accommodations of the Keep.
After all, there was much to discuss.
They remained silent until they reached the guest accommodation and turned to the guards who had followed them. The Northern men were loyal to them, and them alone, hence why they had brought such a contingent, weapons or no weapons, she felt better for having them.
"Guard the door, do not let anyone interrupt" Jon said, and they both nodded. Ser Davos had gone to his room, Brienne took up her post at the door, they would consult with them later, but they had recognised that they needed to talk now, just Jon and Sansa.
After all, they relied on advisors, they worked with them, they trusted them, but for a while it had just been the two of them. Sansa didn't trust anyone like she trusted Jon, not even the family members who had returned to them, she loved them, but things were different with Jon, she couldn't explain how, perhaps it was for what they had struggled together, but either way, she trusted Jon above all else.
And she would be damned if he lost his crown because some foreign Dragon Queen said so.
And so, as soon as the door shut, and she knew they were as safe as they could possibly be here, in foreign lands (though nowhere was truly safe, not even Winterfell), did she then turn to Jon, ready to vent, yell (not actually of course but maybe a whisper yell), stomp her feet even, she was furious.
"Well, that could have gone better"
It was somehow the exact thing to say to defuse the tension, and all of the anger (perhaps not all but most) drained from her, a smile cracking across her face, Jon smiled with her, and she reminded herself Jon was a diplomat in his own right, had united Wildlings and Northmen, had ruled the Nights Watch, and she smiled at him, for making things better.
As he always did with her, even when he couldn't, he tried, and that did it.
Into his arms she went with a smile, though it was a touch rueful, the anger not quite gone, and their problems still stacked up, she still as he opened them, allowed herself to take refuge in his embrace, for that was the only place she felt safe, or closest to.
With Jon.
"What are we going to do?" She asked against his shoulder, he only stood an inch taller than her, but she slotted right into his neck if she bowed her head, and lingered there for a moment, her voice slightly muffled.
"Reason with her?" Jon asked, and yet she could hear the doubt in his voice, leaned back from him and raised an eyebrow before dropping her arms and stepping back, crossing them, tension leaking back into her frame.
"Does she look like a woman who will be reasoned with?" Sansa asked, shaking her head, "Maybe it was a waste to come here, she came off as a tyrant in her letter, why bother coming South just to confirm that?" She asked, more herself than Jon, and yet she knew why; never trust a letter, her own eyes would confirm her opinions, nothing else.
And yet she itched to get back North, they'd barely been on Southern soil for half a day and yet she already felt the call North, to get on the boat and hurry home.
"You know why" Jon said, and yet he looked as frustrated as her, perhaps more so, he had been fighting the dead far longer than her, and running into the same wall each time, "We need her dragons"
"I get the sense they are a package deal" Sansa said with a roll of her eyes, sitting down on Jon's bed then, she was far too awake to sleep and yet part of her wanted to, to get some rest (for she never enjoyed boat travel) and wake up fresh on the morrow.
But she would not allow herself such luxury, not when they had problems to solve, one more glaring than all of the others.
"We'll just have to try again" Jon said, coming to sit next to her, to which she automatically rested her head on his shoulder, as comfortable as they were with each other, she needed no urging nor permission, they just settled that way.
Some would look at them, and think it odd, or even not-correct how close she and Jon were, as King and Lady of Winterfell, brother and sister in most people's eyes, people may think they were too close, but they paid that no mind, nor even heeded it.
Neither had even noticed the Stark family had cottoned on already, but that was a problem for back home.
They had more immediate ones here.
"I know" Sansa said with a sigh, for Jon was right, they could hardly give up this early, and yet the idea of meeting with the Dragon Queen again annoyed her, for more reasons than she'd care to admit. "And if she refuses?"
"Then we go home" Jon said, though he was frowning as he said it, "And make do with what we have"
"Yes" Sansa said with a nod, "Though let's hope it doesn't come to that"
"Aye" Jon said, with his own nod, "Let's hope not"
"I'll ask one of the pages to go and suggest a time" Sansa said with a yawn, sitting down, snug at Jon's side and weeks of lack of sleep all attempting to catch up with her, not that she'd let them, she had too much to do.
Sleep would come when they defeated the dead, or part of them themselves.
It could wait.
"Suggest it for later" Jon said, yawning himself before shaking his head, shaking himself awake she gathered, she knew Jon lasted on even less sleep than her, "Let's take a walk"
"A walk?" Sansa asked.
"It will be good to get some air before we meet the Southerners again" She smiled at that, Jon said Southerners with the same disdain she did.
"I don't know, the Dragon Queen might push me off a cliff" Sansa said with another eye roll, though she felt there might be some truth to the words.
"You know I'd never let that happen" Jon said, as he stood then and held out his hand for her, which she didn't hesitate to take.
"She might be quicker than you" Sansa said with a little smile as they made their way to the door, a walk did sound good, they did much walking in Winterfell, around and in the Keep when they needed to think.
"Then I'll push her off after you to avenge you" Jon said with a smile, and at that she finally laughed, and followed him outside, in higher spirits, but still on guard, especially as they left the guest wing of the Keep, dismissing their guards, Brienne too, Jon had Longclaw at his hip, and Sansa her arm looped through his, they would be safe here.
Safe and stoic.
There was no space to be free here, to laugh or seem normal, it was a place to be composed, and Sansa immediately straightened, wiped the expression off her face, something that came easy to her now.
Jon didn't even need to try, as soon as they hit the stairs, his glare slotted into place, and with that, the two Starks made their way out into the open air, side by side.
It was good to be in the open.
Jon found that after spending so much time stationed at the Wall, ranging Beyond it, he preferred the open air, being inside too often left him restless, and he greedily sucked in the fresh air as they made their way to the cliffs, luxuriating in being higher up, the air thinner here, which reminded him of the Wall.
Neither he nor Sansa spoke as they walked, her arm tucked through his. It was positively sunny here compared to Winterfell, and yet they both donned their thick cloaks, feeling naked without them, the ends of them brushing against the ground as they walked through the grass.
It was nice, neither of them needed to speak, there was no awkwardness, no uncomfortable silence, only an easy quiet neither felt the need to fill. They kept their own thoughts, and if they wanted to share something they would, there was no pressure, no need to talk or prattle for no reason.
It was perfect.
He and Sansa understood one another in a way few before her had. She understood when he needed to be with his thoughts or when he needed to talk, when he wanted to strategize or just chat, she knew, she just knew him.
And he knew, that he knew her. It wasn't something he was insecure about, he knew he could read her (hard as she had become to read), and see when she needed comfort, or a hug, or to be left alone. When she needed to talk, or for him to leave her to think, when she needed him to sit next to her, or talk her through something.
They were in-tune like that and had been ever since they'd reunited.
Perhaps it was because they'd barely been siblings as children, she too snobby, he too broody, perhaps that had allowed a new relationship to develop as it had between them, new and as close as any he'd had.
And so, they walked, Sansa tucked against him, one of his hands on Longclaw, comfortable, at ease, getting their fresh air, legs moving, a page had been sent to suggest a council after dinner (Jon doubted they'd be feasted after the afternoons reception), and they had some time just to be.
Just the two of them, as he preferred it.
Yet, of course, he couldn't have what he preferred for long.
A cry over head had him lifting his gaze, he felt Sansa tense next to him and pulled her a touch closer to his side, clenching his hand around his sword, though it would hardly be any use against dragons, the source of the noise swooping overhead.
"By the Gods, how obvious" Sansa sneered, and he couldn't help but agree, what a blatant show the Dragon Queen was putting on for them.
In a sense it was good to see the beasts they so needed, but he didn't appreciate the intimidation tactics. Thankfully, neither of them flinched, Sansa just glared coldly, and Jon kept his gaze on the three of them as they swooped overhead.
There were three.
The white one was the smallest, sailing past the clouds you could almost miss it, and yet it was the fast, whipping through the air, the highest up.
Next was the darkest and largest, he couldn't see the Dragon Queen, but he could guess that was the one she rode, it was huge, easily dwarfing the other two, and swooping lower, more confident, more sure of itself.
And yet it was the green one that caught his gaze.
The green was the fastest of the three by the looks, bigger than the white but still about two thirds the size of the dark one. And yet, Jon kept his gaze on the green, tracking its movements.
Was it his Targaryen blood that hummed as he looked upon it, or just his hope for the dragon's potential in battle?
He did feel something, he didn't quite know how to identify it, and yet he did. He glanced at Sansa who just glared, and yet he didn't feel that, anger, he felt something calling in him, something pushing him towards them, rather than away.
Whereas Sansa had stood still (and he knew it took everything in her not to step back), he was leaning towards them, had almost taken a step forward.
Even as the darkest of the three dragons swooped low, and then landed on the cliff, mere paces from them with a thud, he didn't move.
And then the dragon rushed forward, using its wings to navigate, and let out a mighty roar, to which Sansa did step back, and yet he held his ground, even released Sansa then, stepping in front of her.
He felt no fear, was it blood or bravery? Heritage or stupidity?
He didn't flinch.
Even as the dragon, dark and powerful leaned down, moving to be at the height of him, the dragons head at his head height, his long rows of sharp teeth visible, those tough and near impenetrable scales, giving him a view at just what a weapon they were, and how badly they needed them.
But in that moment, for the first time, as Jon grew level with the dragon, he realised; they were more than that.
So much more.
They weren't just weapons, useful canons, they were real, they were here, and they were calling to something in him, in his blood, almost like the North called to him, near the same strength, pulling him towards them, as though it were inevitable.
Just what was inevitable he didn't know.
A cry overhead had him glance at the green one, swooping nearby, closer than before, as though wanting to be closer.
His gaze was torn back to the dark drake quickly, he could see the Dragon Queen on its back now, and they shared a glance for a moment, she looked more confused than angry then, as the dragon sniffed the air, those long teeth bared, looking as though it might roar again or maybe take a bite.
But Jon somehow knew what to do.
He heard Sansa gasp as he took his leather glove off, and yet for the first time he ignored her, ignored her and instead reached forward, bare skin, his fingers stretched out and then curling, reached forward, and ever so gently, with no sudden movements, nothing startling, ran his hand over the great dragons scales, right next to its eye, in an almost petting motion, kind, and gentle, feeling the warmth of it under his hand.
And it felt right.
And at that, the dragon changed almost, eased, no roar, no anger, almost a trill leaving its mouth, and then, Jon saw it, eye to eye, the dilating of the pupil, shifting from anger, vigilance, to calmness, to ease.
They understood one another.
And though Jon might never admit what he thought next, it came to him and stayed with him, as the green dragon swooped overhead again, closer this time, as though demanding his attention.
Even as the Dragon Queen stepped down, hands clasped, and approached, a slight confusion still on her features, as Sansa remained stood behind him, as he glanced over at the rocks, to the sky, as the dark dragon pushed into the air in one fluid movement, to join his brothers, all three circling over, the thought stayed with him.
The thought came to him, as the Dragon Queen approached, that perhaps being a Targaryen would not be so bad after all.
Perhaps, it was who he was meant to be.
And yet he didn't dare utter that loud, for what in all the Gods would that mean?
The entire time Sansa remained in the background.
A quiet walk soon turned into a show of power by the Dragon Queen, and yet it hadn't turned out that way, not at all.
Sansa hated herself for stepping back, for seeming weak, and yet she was human, a human with a desire to live, not end up as a smouldering pile of ash.
And yet, even as she tucked herself behind Jon, suppressing the whimper that was caught in her chest, it seemed she needn't have worried.
In fact, a gasp escaped, but her urge for Jon to step back had died in her throat, as his hand touched the dragon, and her entire thought processed shifted.
Immediately the fear left her, her trembling ceased, and any worry she'd had was gone, even as the Dragon Queen stepped down from the beast, confused, and yet with something in her features, something akin to curiosity, maybe attraction (she'd deal with that later), she had no fear.
For Jon had just shown her the way, and as the Dragon Queen approached, she stepped forward to stand next to Jon again, clasping her hands, her still hands.
Jon had shown them not just how to win the War against the Dead, but the one with the Dragon Queen that felt inevitable.
Her gaze flicked to the beasts in the sky, and settled on the green dragon, the one that Jon had fixed his gaze on, and she suppressed a smirk.
That was how they would win.
sansa scheming, jon having a moderate crisis of faith - whats new?
I hope you enjoyed! do review, fav/follow
next we have the council/meeting!
speak soon