Jon rested his forehead against hers, his grey eyes dark with desire, his breathing shallow. He gave her a chaste kiss on the lips and lowered himself to rest atop her, like she enjoyed. Her ankles were locked around his behind, ensuring his softening member staying inside her for a few moments longer.
"I love you," he whispered in her ear, before rolling off her body, his length slipping from her body, leaving her feeling empty. She turned onto her side to face him. His body, like her own, was sweaty from their frantic love-making. She absent-mindedly drew circles on his chest.
"I love you too."
"Do you think we might have created a child?"
"Who knows? Only time will tell," Sansa said.
Jon pulled the furs back and kissed her belly.
"I can't wait to see you round with my child."
Sansa saw an excitement in his eyes she had never witnessed before. He rested his head upon her stomach, while she ran her fingers through his dark curls. These were the moments she cherished. Her worries regarding Daenerys had faded away to the back of her mind once more. He need not to tell her how he felt. His eyes spoke a thousand words.
A knock at the door disturbed the moment.
"Who is it?" Jon called out.
"I've brought breakfast, your grace," was the reply.
Jon pulled the furs back, climbed out of bed and threw a robe over himself and tying a belt to hide his nakedness. Sansa pulled the furs up to her neck for her own modesty, not that the maid would be able to step inside.
Jon opened the door and took the tray from the maid's hand and left. Once the door was closed, Sansa climbed out of bed and made her way to the wash basin to clean herself. By the time she wrapped herself in her own robe, Jon was setting up breakfast on the table next to the fire.
"Do you think she knew what we were doing?" Sansa asked as she picked a piece of bacon from the platter.
"Of course she did. The room reeks of sweat and sex. In a good way, might I add." Jon smirked.
She couldn't help agree with him. The room smelled of them and their love-making. It made her think of Jon being inside her. She blushed.
"It'll be all round the castle by the time of the small council."
"We are doing our duty for the realm. A potential King with an heir and a fertile wife will be preferable to a barren Queen. Not that anyone knows."
Not yet, Sansa thought to herself.
"What if the birds whisper it into the ears of the Lords? She will struggle to claim a Lord husband in Westeros. Without a potential heir, she will have no allies."
"Sansa, she has three dragons."
"She calls herself the Mother of Dragons, believing she is someone special, because she is the one who hatched them. I know she hatched three, but Blizzard proves she's not that special after all."
"Aye," Jon nodded. "She lived for her titles. She's still the mother of dragons, but it will not help her in Westeros. They will see Blizzard as a protector, for I will not have him hurting smallfolk. He knows that."
"Do you think you will still be able to ride Rhaegal?"
Jon frowned at her.
"I'm not sure. There was a connection with him. But it might be different this time. It wasn't as strong as it was with Blizzard. Why do you ask? How can I ride two dragons at once?" he asked, biting down on a piece of bread.
"I was thinking if you can take one, then you both have two dragons. And we won't need her for the long night. But we ought to think about that later."
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Jon and Sansa had cleaned themselves and redressed for the first small council meeting. She had devised a list of minor requirements, and carried with her some parchment for her to take notes. One urgent need was a proper small council chamber, perfectly highlighted as the men clambered into the room. The solar wasn't a small room, but with eleven of them inside, she knew this would be a job for Sansa and her mother.
Sansa, Jon, and her mother and father were sitting behind one side of the desk, whilst the others sat on chairs across from them. It looked less like a small council meeting than anything Sansa had ever witnessed. She wanted to laugh, but instead, whispered into Jon's ear, suggesting they ought to look for alternative chambers.
"This meeting will be brief. This solar is not suitable for a meeting like this," he glanced up at her mother. "As Lady of Winterfell, are there any spare rooms which are more appropriate?" Jon said.
Her mother frowned for a moment, lost in thought, before Maester Luwin spoke.
"There is a room in the library tower on the ground floor. As far as I know, it is full of chairs."
"We'll need plenty of chairs, and a long table," her father said.
"I'm sure that can be arranged," Maester Luwin replied.
"Can a scaled up map of Westeros be painted on the table? Do we have any available painters?" Sansa asked. Jon looked up at her and smiled.
"Like the one on Dragonstone. Although that is more a carving than a painting. But I agree, a large-scale map is a good idea. Preferably a table which can be moved around when we are heading out to battle."
"I think it might be a wise idea if we move to the library tower now. We can't work here, it is far too cramped. And hot," her father said. "Lead the way, Maester Luwin."
With a scraping of chairs, the small council followed Maester Luwin a downstairs room to the library tower. The room was large and cold, for no fire had been lit for what must have been decades. Sansa didn't recognise the room, and from the look on her father's face, neither did he.
The shutters were opened, revealing dust motes in the weak sun which shone through the windows. One was opened to try to air out the dusty room. A servant was ushered in to start a fire, and to dust down the chairs. A small writing desk was brought forward for Sansa to take the meeting notes.
Once a few candles were lit and the fire in the hearth warmed the room, everyone settled down with a mug of ale in their hands, ready for the important pieces of information.
"I will endeavour to have a representative of every kingdom in my meetings. For now, that will not be possible, but we should have as many as possible."
The Blackfish held up his hand.
"Lord Brynden," Jon acknowledged him.
"Why is your brother, I mean cousin, the Master of War? He has no experience in war. The nearest he has is playing with training swords under a master-at-arms. Wouldn't it be better if we swapped roles?" he looked over to Robb, who fidgeted in his seat.
Her father glanced over at Jon, who gave him a quick nod, for him to answer.
"My good-uncle has a valid point. When Jon and I drew up the list, it was mostly to ensure we had the right people on the small council. You are the ones we want by our sides. If Robb is happy to take on the role as master of laws until such a time he would be more battle-hardened, I have no problem with changing your roles."
"What will it involve, Lord Stark?" Robb asked.
"During a war campaign, it will be your duty to ensure the men behave. Any rules broken and you will serve the punishment. That includes executions."
"If it is a Lord who commits treason, I will take care of the execution," Jon said.
"I would be honoured to serve as your Master of Laws, your grace."
Sansa could tell Robb wasn't happy, but she could see the relief rolling off the shoulders of both her parents and Jon.
Theon held up his hand before speaking.
"You've given me the role of high admiral of the western fleet, but there is no western fleet. If my sister allies with us, I doubt she will answer to me as her superior."
"If we are to take the Westerlands, then the western fleet will become the most important fleet of all," Jon replied. "But I understand your desire to sail as soon as possible. There is a large keep on the Stony Shore. There we will need to build ships and a port. Lord Manderly, can you spare any shipwrights to send west?"
"Aye," the large man agreed. "It will be at the expense of some of the eastern fleet. You'll need a shipyard and dock building before I send any shipwrights. No point in them sitting about twiddling their thumbs while there's work to be done."
"I'll oversee the port and the shipyard being built. Although I'm sure I'll find time to help with employing sailors. I know a few people who might be of use." Ser Davos volunteered.
"Very good, Ser Davos. We'll leave the fleet in yours and Theon's capable hands," her father said.
"Do we have enough coin for all of this?" Lord Manderly asked. "I need to examine at the books."
"There will be sufficient gold to pay for this war," Jon assured him. "We will provide the books. We are awaiting news on that front. I will discuss this in private, Lord Manderly."
"How is your northern spy network progressing, Lord Varys?" her father asked.
"Nearly complete, Lord Hand. I hear Lord and Lady Bolton and their entourage will be soon making their way North from the Twins. They plan to stop here and offer their apologies for their absence."
"Lady Bolton?" Lord Manderly asked.
"Ah yes. One of Walder Frey's daughters. She has wed Roose Bolton. Of utmost importance now he has no heir, nor a bastard he can legitimise," Varys replied.
Sansa's knuckles turned white at the mention of Roose Bolton. Jon turned to her and took her hand as a show of support. Sansa could have kissed him at that moment, but a small council meeting was not an appropriate place to show affection. Instead, she smoothed her skirts and continued to write.
"When are we to move south, your grace?" the Blackfish asked. "Wars wait for no man."
"We are waiting for Lord Bran and Lady Arya to return. I also need to make sure all the fighting Free Folk are ready to defend the North. Tormund and five thousand men will journey south with us. The rest of the Free Folk will either continue farming or arm themselves and protect the North. Mance has pledged his men to look after the North. I trust him."
A murmur of dissent echoed around the room, although nobody voiced their concerns. However, Sansa knew it was just a matter of time.
"As you know, I want to appoint those from other kingdoms to represent the concerns of their own people. This is something I need to do now with as many kingdoms as possible. I had hoped Tyrion Lannister would represent the Westerlands, but he is missing, presumed dead until we discover otherwise," Jon said. "Prince Oberyn will represent Dorne and I would have Samwell Tarly speak for the Reach. However, Prince Oberyn is venturing North to the Wall, and Sam has departed south to go to the Citadel. When Prince Oberyn returns, he can assume his duties. Other than that, we have representatives already here."
"What about the Stormlands and the Crownlands?" Robb asked, even though he knew the answer. He had to look involved, even if the matters had already been discussed amongst the family.
"I will represent the Crownlands," Jon said. "I am the Prince of Dragonstone and have spent time in that area. Admittedly, not a lot of time, but my time was spent with the smallfolk. I would appoint Lady Shireen to speak on behalf of the Stormlands."
The Lords weren't happy with Jon's declaration surrounding his choice of Shireen.
"She's a child!" Lord Manderly huffed.
"And a girl," Theon added. "What does she know about politics?"
"A great deal more than most, my Lord," Ser Davos replied. "She was trained to be a Princess and potential Queen some day. She's a clever lass, not one to be underestimated."
"Lord Brynden will represent the Riverlands, and when we meet with Lord Royce, he will speak for the Vale."
"Is he marching North?" the Blackfish announced.
"No. He will meet us in the Riverlands. Once we march south, some people will stay in the North, some will accompany me. I will need a team of battle commanders, which will need to be taken from the northern Lords. Lord Brynden, if you can decide upon who you wish to take up command. I would have a small team sent to Moat Cailin to make it ready for a larger force. Lord Stark, I would like you to appoint a trusted advisor who can act in your stead whilst we are south." Jon said.
"I believe Lord Reed would be most suitable, your grace," Ned replied.
"Lord Manderly, the Queen and I will retrieve the ledgers for you to look at. You will get them on the morrow. Our next meeting will be in two days, where we will have everything in place to proceed with moving south. Only a small battalion will go through the Twins, as I do not trust Walder Frey to ally himself with us. He has designs on ruling the Riverlands, and the Lannisters will afford him the opportunity to do so. We must find other ways south."
"What about the war council, your grace?" the Blackfish asked.
"Immediately after the small council meeting." Jon replied. "This meeting is adjourned, you can eat."
The men filed out, all except Jon, Sansa, her parents, Maester Luwin and Robb. Once the door was closed, Robb turned to Jon.
"Why are you fortifying Moat Cailin if you wish to avoid the Freys?"
"A choke point to slow the dead," Jon replied. "I would hope to destroy them before they get to Winterfell, but Bran isn't the Three-Eyed-Raven. I don't know what the Night King wants. We set a trap last time. Bran was in the Godswood to entice him. That is not an option open to us. The Battle must adapt to the new circumstances. But until we know what they are, we must prepare for all eventualities. If the gods are good, they won't breach the wall. If they do, we must slow them down at all costs."
"I'll send seven builders with the small force," Ned said.
"Queenscrown is complete. Can't we recall the builders from there?" Sansa asked.
"Aye, that's a good idea Sansa," Ned smiled.
"Would you like me to write to Queenscrown and request the builders return to Winterfell?" Maester Luwin asked.
Her father nodded. "For now, builders will be our warriors."
"Speaking of which. Lady Stark, do you think you could oversee the full rebuild of the broken tower? It needs to be brimming full of grain, ready for winter."
"At this rate, with all the ongoing projects, we're going to need a master of builders," Ned japed. Jon frowned.
"You're right."
"I would recommend someone who doesn't want to go to war," Sansa said.
"A coward?" Cat asked.
"Not exactly," Sansa replied. "How about Lady Dustin? Or even Lord Bolton?"
"I don't want him fighting for me," Jon said.
"If Lord Bolton has to stay here in Winterfell, we can watch over him," her father said. "He is well organised and if I didn't know of his treachery, I would want him to fill that role."
"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer," Sansa agreed.
Jon suddenly looked distant.
"Whoever said that didn't have many enemies."
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The meetings of the day had left Sansa with a headache. She had to copy her notes out, once for her father, one to be stored away as an official copy, and one for Jon. By the time she was finished, she had cramp in her hand and just wanted to go to sleep.
Jon was having a meeting with Oberyn and Edd about their journey to Castle Black. Unable to keep her eyes open much longer, she changed into her night shift and climbed into bed. Her head had barely hit the pillow before she fell fast asleep.
Sansa was running on all fours. The smell of pine and snow permeated her nose, while the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, and the kill her belly. The crunch of leaves and pine needles underfoot disappeared, only to be replaced by the cold snow, which she loved so much. The clearing allowed for the flakes to litter the ground and stay, whilst the canopy of trees protected the rest of the forest.
As she slowed, the acrid smell of smoke replaced the pine. Her winged brother liked to breathe fire upon his meat. Laying next to him was her favourite brother, the white one with red eyes, his maw was red with blood from his own kill. The winged one was hunting for himself now, taking to the skies, catching elk, and returning to their lair.
Her white brother stood to greet her. She sensed the difference in him. Sometimes he smelled like his human. No longer her brother, instead he was her mate. They rubbed their bodies against one another, in the way they usually greeted. Could he tell she was his mate and not his sister? When he licked her ear, she knew.
Once she'd greeted her mate, the winged brother lay his head on the ground, waiting for his own greeting. She rubbed her head against his, before returning to her mate, where they curled up together to take care of their brother. Not that he needed it. Now that he could fly and burn anything he wanted, he needed no one to take care of him. She knew he would soon, would fly away and not return for some time.
She watched as he opened his great leathery wings, which had grown since they moved to the forest. He looked up to the skies, and hurled himself into the air, and disappeared over the canopy.
Sansa woke up breathless and curled up in Jon's arms, with her back towards him. She turned her head towards him, to see he was also awake.
"I dreamed I was Lady."
"I dreamed I was Ghost."
Sansa turned around and faced him, and stroked a loose curl from his forehead.
"How far can he fly?" Sansa asked.
Jon closed his eyes and concentrated before returning to her.
"He's flying to the Stony Shore to hunt, probably for a seal or a whale. If he can do that, he'll be strong enough to fly to Valyria."
Jon's eyes were downcast. This was a momentous time in Blizzard's life. Once he returned from Valyria, he would be ready to fight.
"How long will he be gone?"
"Probably a moon's turn," Jon replied.
"Just in time for the war. It is almost as if he planned it."
"Aye, it's almost as if he did," Jon placed a chaste kiss upon her lips. "Don't you think it strange we both dreamed of our wolves simultaneously, waking with the same knowledge?"
Sansa had already considered this. Whoever or whatever was controlling the magic, had pulled them into wolf dreams. However, there was only one common denominator, Blizzard.
"I wish the Three-Eyed-Raven was here to tell us," Sansa said. "Is it wrong of me to wish Bran was the Three-Eyed-Raven?"
Jon shook his head. "Sometimes I wish he were here to guide us. Just not in Bran's body."
"Mayhaps he is. Maybe he exists inside Blizzard."
Jon laughed. "Blizzard has too much of a personality to be the Three-Eyed-Raven."
"I want to visit him tomorrow, before he leaves," Sansa told him.
"Aye, me too. I say we get some sleep and visit him after we break our fast."
"I'd like that. Goodnight, Jon."
"Goodnight, Sansa."
The world faded away, and all she knew was Jon's powerful arms engulfed her, protecting her from the evils of the world.