authorsnote: I'm sorry this took so long :( this is the fifth or sixth iteration of this chapter, it took me as long to write as you've been waiting! but I'm happy here and onto the next chapter!

my bby jon 3 I can never not make him sympathetic in every story I do lol

do enjoy

songrecs: photograph - ed sheeran

The silence was deafening.

As Lord Howland Reed had sought an urgent audience, Sansa had felt it was ill timed, as Jon and Robb had clasped hands, an understanding; their must always be a Stark in Winterfell, a release of guilt and worry she hadn't even realised she'd been holding, smiles all around, even nervous as they were.

She knew, she was not offended that Robb had passed her over as Heir, if he hadn't suggested it, she would have insisted herself. As much as the idea of a little boy or girl with her colouring and Willas' eyes running around in the snow, to rule their family seat one day appealed to her, she knew that couldn't be allowed to happen.

Because any child of hers would be a Tyrell, and a Tyrell could not rule Winterfell. It was as simple as that.

Jon would rule it, with a wife at his side and children named Stark not Tyrell. Sansa would and intended to visit but she could not be the Lady, as much as it hurt, a deep hurt in her chest to know that. She couldn't.

She wasn't a Stark anymore, as much as was her deepest wish, despite her happiness with Willas, was to be.

She wondered how Willas would feel about this, not too pleased she imagined.

But there was no time to contemplate that now, as Sansa grinned and pulled her brothers into a hug, but then the news, and a shift in the air, almost in anticipation…

As then, the Lord of Greywater Watch, Howland Reed, who'd once been a close friend of their Fathers, windswept but with a determined glint in his eye had interrupted them, urgent, meaning now, meaning possibly grave, horrifying or life-shattering.

And for good reason, for it perhaps turned out to be all three.

As he'd unravelled a truth, long buried, long hidden, to her agape mouth, to Robb's widening eyes and Jon looking like he might faint. He had been there he said, had been at the Tower of Joy and then quickly explained what that meant.

Explained a secret wedding, hidden records which he held in hand, two letters which he passed to Jon with a solemn expression, and finally a recounting of what had happened at the Tower, and she had seen a tear in his eye as he remembered the truth.

A truth, that had ended with his declaration of loyalty, a bent knee, but not to Robb, his King,

But to Jon, the King of them all.

For to Sansa's shock (and she was trying to school her expression as Lord Howland left, Robb remained like a fox in the carriage path, Jon looked as though he might keel over and she shut her mouth and tried to remember her courtesies, though there was no precedence for this), Jon was not their Fathers son, not their half-brother, or brother as was most important, no, he was none of that.

He was not a Stark at all.

But rather their Fathers nephew, their cousin, Aunt Lyannas son.

Though that was not the most important part, Aunt Lyanna his Mother yes, but it was his Father, that as she and Robb shared a glance, both shocked to their core, but both rapidly realising what this meant …

What was important was Jon's Father, Prince Rhaegar.

He was a Targaryen.

"You're the Heir to the Iron Throne" Sansa whispered, foolish really in an unsecured keep, clapped a hand over her mouth, but the guards out front were Robbs and she spoke so quietly she knew her brothers … well one brother, one cousin just heard her, as Robb nodded, and Jon finally looked up, face ashen, eyes shining with tears.

"My Mother … she was in the crypts the entire time" He whispered, and at that Jon fell to his knees, his mind so focused on the Mother he'd always craved, that even as Sansa pulled him close, and Robb embraced them both, he didn't realise what this meant, what Robb had realised and Sansa too in that shared nod.

Jon was the Heir to the Iron Throne, and as he wept for a Mother he'd never known, and the shock washed over him, Sansa and Robb knew, hands clasping, he would be their King.

Something was happening.

Willas was no fool, and he knew, no reunion between siblings took this long. He knew there must be something else going on. It had been hours, the two guards at the door stood absolutely at guard, no ease, no hint that there was something behind the door they weren't worrying about. There apparently had also been someone coming in and out, but (annoyingly) Willas couldn't work out who.

It was frustrating, he had no spies here, no contacts and Northerners for their faults at being awful at politics most of the time, were loyal. There would be no bribing a guard or a serving maid here, all that would see him would be reported to the King and exposed as to trying to set up his own little network.

He was no fool, and Willas knew some situations required delicate hands, this being one of them.

He could not try to employ Southern ways here, they would not work.

Willas had eaten, retired and then un-retired and come back downstairs, had waited for an hour in the dining room with the stragglers before going back to their rooms. He was writing letters at the desk, or at least was supposed to be, but no, his letter remained blank and instead his mind was running at a thousand miles a minute, trying to imagine what was happening.

He didn't know, but he could guess.

He hadn't come unprepared, he had known the risk of bringing Sansa here, but he hadn't anticipated Jon Snow, and why that meant his wife had been sequestered away with her brothers for 4 hours, creeping past into midnight and what they were discussing.

Perhaps he was cynical, perhaps they were just catching up, all smiles and enjoying one another's company, and yet Lady Catelyn wasn't with them (perhaps because of Jon Snow), and surely she would have wanted to wrestle her daughter away to spend time with her? Also, there was the mystery man coming and going.

Maybe not cynical, paranoid, but Willas hadn't helped rise the House of Tyrell to its current heights by taking things for granted, being unprepared and not considering every possibility. No, that was not the way he had been taught.

Perhaps Sansa would arrive imminently, explaining she'd gotten carried away with catching up, perhaps he was just being far too nervous, not giving his wife enough credit, perhaps perhaps perhaps.

But Willas had been taught to think of perhaps, to think of what could and couldn't be. To imagine scenarios in his head and play them out, to learn, to strategize, to think through every possible outcome.

He remembered sitting at his Grandmothers knee as she'd given him an example of a dispute or a shipping issue or of a diplomacy problem and she had him run through every possible outcome, every possible snag or worry or challenge, any concern or way out. He'd been 10 when those lessons had started and had never stopped.

He would be no warrior, he would sharpen no sword, and so he had sharpened his mind instead.

And so, he guessed.

He knew Jon Snow was in the Nights Watch and so tried to imagine why he had come this far, to White Harbour. Black brothers weren't allowed to leave the Wall, unless recruiting. Was he here to clear the dungeons? Willas furrowed his brow; that wasn't right, the Nights Watch usually relied on the Lords of Great Houses sending men to the Wall, not relying on men to retrieve them, Willas knew well enough, he offered all guilty men, bar the most heinous of crimes, an opportunity to take the black, and he sent them up with food, and a bit of gold for the Wall too, knowing Highgarden was quite safe and didn't yield many prisoners.

And so, if he wasn't here recruiting? Had he abandoned his vows? Willas scoffed at himself then putting down his quill, no, there had rarely been, if ever a Stark who broke their vows, and though Jon was a bastard he was clearly a Stark through and through, to Lady Catelyn's annoyance.

So, what did that leave? And why was he hidden away with the King in the North and the future Lady of Highgarden?

It annoyed Willas that he couldn't think of what they could be discussing. The war? Robb was making good progress, holding the Lannisters off at all ends, the alliance with Highgarden might not kill off Tywin and his family, but it would certainly see to Northern independence, hopefully more if Margaery managed to work her magic, he didn't need help, and besides the Watch were neutral, they couldn't intervene.

And so, Jon Snow was here, recruiting maybe but unlikely (perhaps he had used recruiting as a chance to see his family?), had likely not broken any vows (more like impossible), and why else would he be here… ?

And then it clicked.

Of course, Jon Snow was here to become not just to offer advice, but to offer said advice permanently, surely the King, using the powers only a King had, was intending to use those privileges to pardon the brother Sansa had always said he was close to, to bring him to his side.

That made sense, bring him in as his Hand or an advisor at the very least, someone he could trust completely. That made sense, Willas thought it was a shrewd move. It was always hard to know who to trust, he had his Mother but he couldn't hide behind her skirts without looking weak, and so his brother, one he evidently cared for and trusted was the best thing, his best advisor, loyal and likely trained in the exact same subjects and statesmanship as Robb Stark had been.

But Willas fancied there might be more to it than that.

And if he was right, not only was Robb Stark shrewd, but he was hurting his potential new alliance, and doing so, annoyingly, knowing he could.

Willas knew as he quickly dashed together a letter and called for his page, knew that Jon Snow was probably not just to be released from his vows to be an advisor to the King or even the Hand, no, he'd be the Heir.

Robb Stark had not been married for long enough to even do the deed to make an Heir, and any marriage with Margaery, though likely to be quick, might take time to yield an Heir. In the meantime, the Heir to Winterfell, the Key as she had often been called in Kings Landing (which Willas frowned at), was his wife.

If Robb died, which he had an increased chance doing, being a Rebel King, and all, Sansa, would inherit the North, and not Sansa Stark, Sansa Tyrell.

Little Tyrell children under that regard would inherit Winterfell, not Starks.

Clearly Robb had decided quite wisely that could not happen.

Willas was annoyed, to see Sansa placed aside, but less so than perhaps he should be. He was the Lord after all, their first child would inherit Highgarden, and there were many seats any second or third sons that could potentially inherit, and in all likelihood with this alliance Robb Stark would live and have Heirs that were half Tyrell themselves.

He also imagined Sansa would rather see Starks inherit than her own children, just like he would rather Galan would inherit Highgarden if his children were named Stark. The family name would always win against a married one, he wasn't wounded by that.

But the action itself made him pause, at just how wise the young King was being, making many a move Willas had not thought of ahead of time.

Willas realised he might have underestimated him and chastised himself not to do so again. Robb might be a Stark, honourable far too much so and overly concerned with justice, but evidently he had been trained well, it would be Willas peril to dismiss him.

And so, Jon Snow was here as the Heir, which meant ensuring Robb and Margaery were married as quickly as possible, as soon as they had a child they would inherit Winterfell, and perhaps any other Throne if they had any say.

Margaery would be Queen, her children would be Princes and Princesses and Jon Snow would not inherit anything.

But they had to move quickly.

All that was whirling through his mind as he sent a trusted page from his house to deliver a quick summary of his thoughts to his Grandmother, another letter went to Margaery, a suggestion she 'stumble' upon Robb when he left the meeting, he hated to ask such a thing of his sister, but he remembered his Grandmothers story as to how she had ended up married to his Grandfather and not his Great Aunt in her place. Sometimes necessary actions weren't the ones he wanted to ask of his sister but had to.

The sooner they were married, the better.

All of that was done quickly, as just minutes after Midnight Sansa hurried into their borrowed chambers, and he knew.

He had missed something.

He was confident in what he'd guessed, but as she hurried in, her expression … eyes wide and a little glazed, as though still reeling from a shock, her hands shaking a touch, he knew it wasn't just Jon being named Heir, she wouldn't be this effected, something else had happened; perhaps because of the mystery guest.

"Sansa are you alright?" He hurried to his feet with a groan, truly he would be glad to have a bed tonight, sleeping on the ground was never good for the crippled, "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, yes" She hurried, and he could see her force a smile onto her face, "Just tired, I didn't realise how late it had gotten, me, Robb and Jon ended up chatting more about what we've been doing than we realised!" She said, almost convincingly bar a breathy laugh at the end.

Sansa was good, her time in Kings Landing had truly seen her hone her ability to lie, to deceive. She could put on an easy polite act with smiles and a deferential nod and people fell for it, they fell easily, for her pretty looks, pretty smile, and her nod. It wasn't the same as Margaery though, with Sansa they thought her stupid or simple and dismissed her. And though her confidence was growing now he'd gotten her out of that wretched place she still slipped back into that when she needed to lie, like now.

Why was she lying to him?

He decided to play on the offensive.

"Its alright Sansa" He said gently, taking her hands in his, even as his leg groaned in protest, "I know your brother intends to name your brother Jon his Heir"

At that something flickered in her gaze, but she didn't act surprised or splutter like he'd expected, instead she just nodded, played it a little too cool, squeezed his hands in return, "I'm sorry, I didn't expect it, but it does make sense" She smiled then, a touch more genuine, but there was still something there, "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell"

"Of course" He said, he felt the same about Tyrells and Highgarden after all, they had fought hard for it, it was theirs, that wasn't the issue at hand. He lifted her hands then to kiss them both with a smile, she smiled too but he'd guessed right as a nervous quiver flicked at her lip, he knew it would fool most people, but not him.

She couldn't fool him.

"Is there anything else?" He asked, and he found himself, even as strangely proud of her as he was for how she'd survived Kings Landing, how good she was, he hoped she wouldn't lie to him, he hoped she could trust him, "You can tell me you know, always"

"I know" She said gently, and seemed to soften, but no, as something imperceptible to anyone but him he was sure passed over her face he knew as she leaned forward to kiss his lips gently and then pulled back, dropping his hands, he knew, "I know that"

She still had something to hide.

"I'm going to get ready for bed" She said then, one last kiss and she turned away in a whirl of her skirts, screwing her hands into fists to stop them shaking, something he'd seen her do before.

And Willas knew she'd lied to him.

But about what? That was the question and one that worried him? What had that mystery visitor or Jon Snow said that had shaken Sansa so? What had they said she couldn't tell him?

All he knew, as he waited for her to wash and get into bed and then went through his own routine and joined her, even as she tucked close to him, as though everything were normal, was that he needed to find out.

here we gooo

will the truth come out? we shall see..

also yes, I do love to write willas, he's very cunning, smart, manipulative to a degree but he is a good guy ... or as good as guys can get in westeros, he's just power hungry, lets see how sansa deals with that...

do review, speak soon(er)