The sound of laughter and arguing coming from the great halls filled the ante-chamber where Jon stood with Sansa. He smiled at her, before picking up her gloved hand and kissing the leather which covered it. The action was as much to soothe his own nerves as it was to convince Sansa of his courage to do what had to be done.
Robb and Rickon were already sitting at the high table, awaiting Lord and Lady Stark, before Jon and Sansa followed. Maester Luwin stood in the doorway, checking everyone was assembled, before they made their way to the hall. He turned his head back towards them.
"Lord and Lady Stark" were the only words he needed to utter.
As soon as Ned and Cat entered the Great Hall, a hush fell over the room, for the Lords knew Jon and Sansa were about to arrive.
Jon offered Sansa his arm before making their way into the packed hall. Familiar and unfamiliar faces lined up in front of them as they took their seats.
Jon was glad he'd foregone his heavy cloak as the room was hot from the amount of bodies crammed inside.
The scraping of chairs was followed by bowed heads and a rumbling of your grace, echoed around the room. Jon and Sansa sat beside Ned, and Jon nodded his head. The Lords and Ladies sat.
Jon hated the pomp and formality of it all. If it wasn't for the Others, he wouldn't be adhering to this idiotic facade. However, as Sansa frequently pointed out, the show of respect was essential if he were to lead them. No different from being Lord Commander of the Nights Watch, just a different method of proving loyalty.
Once everyone retook their seats and the hot cider passed around, it was time for the meeting. All eyes were on Jon, but as the Lord of Winterfell, it was up to Lord Stark to start proceedings.
Jon's uncle stood.
"Thank you for gathering here in such haste. I'm aware it is rather early and we have yet to break our fast. But we have received urgent news. First from Lord Varys," Ned inclined his head to the eunuch, "and now we have further confirmation from White Harbor. The ship carrying Lord Tyrion is missing."
The room was silent for a moment before Lord Glover stood.
"And why should we care what happens to a Lannister? Wouldn't they all be better off dead?"
Lord Glover sat, and Jon stood. The northerners had no love for the Lannisters, even if Tyrion could be a useful ally.
"Aye, Lord Glover, under most circumstances I would agree with you. On this occasion, I must disagree. Lord Tyrion was being sent to the Nights Watch aboard the Storm Crow."
A murmur of discontent rattled around the room. The Storm Crow was well known among the northerners as a ship belonging to the Nights Watch. Lord Cerwyn stood.
"Most likely lost in a storm."
Jon was about to reply when Lord Varys stood. Jon returned to his seat, for he knew this was the expertise of a player from Kings Landing.
"As much as I would like to agree with you, Lord Cerwyn. I know Queen Cersei far too well for my personal liking. I doubt it a mere coincidence that the ship carrying the man who she believes killed her son, only for him to conveniently disappear at sea. Although we ought to wait for further confirmation, it would be remiss to not consider the likelihood of an attack on the ship from one of Cersei's own men."
Lord Varys sat as the room erupted into a fit of anger.
"An attack on the Nights Watch is an attack on the North," a voice called out from the back of the room.
"The Lannisters need to go, now," cried another.
"Why are we still sitting here in the North, while we ought to be making our way south, crushing the lot of them. We have the true King right here in these halls. What are we waiting for?" Lord Umber shouted.
Jon stood and held his hands up, silencing the room.
"We've been waiting for word of potential allies. Right now, we have just the North and the Riverlands. That is not enough men to ride to Kings Landing and force the Lannisters out. They have the backing of the Reach, and combined forces of over a hundred thousand.'
"What are the wildlings for?" Lord Karstark called out, and Tormund stood.
"We don't kneel. But we will help this King take the… err…"
Jon struggled not to laugh, despite the severity of the situation.
"The Iron Throne?" Jon suggested.
"Aye, what he said."
"We can't leave the North unprotected. Nor can we leave it without food. I am putting together a small council and will add more to the war council, men chosen for their knowledge. But that is not the only reason we have not yet marched south." Jon held the letter from Bronze Yohn Royce aloft. "The Lords of the Vale have also pledged thirty-five thousand men to our cause and are assembling as we speak."
The room fell silent once more until Lord Wull stood and pointed to Oberyn.
"What about Dorne? You're sitting here, eating the food of the Starks, accepting their hospitality. Is your brother pledging his allegiance to King Aegon?"
Jon was eager to hear Oberyn's answer. He had barely spoken with the Dornishman since they arrived at Winterfell. Jon had been busy and Oberyn seemed content spending time in the Winter Town brothel. The Prince stood and addressed the room.
"His grace is not the only one vying for the Iron Throne. Dorne is keeping its eye on everyone who is making a claim. As a trueborn son of Prince Rhaegar, Jon has a stronger claim than Daenerys Targaryen in the east. However, she has three dragons, whilst his grace has just one. There is another who claims to be the son of Prince Rhaegar, and my nephew, also called Aegon."
Gasps echoed out throughout the room.
"Are you just spying on us or is Dorne playing all sides?" Lord Manderly asked.
"Yes and no," Prince Oberyn replied, as a cacophony of noise filled the room.
"Silence!" Jon called out, and the crowd quieted. Jon turned to Oberyn. "Please explain."
"First of all, whichever side Dorne chooses will become irrelevant if there is a dance of dragons. I'm sure you are aware of Targaryen history when Queen Rhaenyra fought Aegon II. If there are whitewalkers coming from North of the Wall, then the last thing we want is another dance."
A murmur of agreement echoed throughout the room. Prince Oberyn continued.
"Dorne does not want to commit forces to anyone until we have the facts. Jon and Daenerys are proven to be trueborn Targaryens. The boy claiming to be my nephew has the look of a Targaryen and has been raised by Jon Connington, a close friend of my late good-brother."
"You see yourselves as mediators?" Lord Stark asked.
"I doubt mediators will be enough when it comes to dragons, Lord Stark. But choosing a side is not so simple. Family or firepower? If these whitewalkers are real, how can I choose the boy claiming to be my nephew? Would not three dragons be better than one? Or four dragons? Would it be better if my nephew wed his aunt and King Jon leads us into the long night? Wouldn't that be the best way forward? No bloodshed and more dragons."
Jon couldn't argue with the logic of preferring to unite and work together. However, he had the advantage of hindsight. He knew Daenerys wouldn't marry Aegon and Jon bending the knee wouldn't be enough. Oberyn was right, a dance of dragons was almost inevitable.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sansa casting a wary glance over towards Varys. Jon leaned into her.
"What is it?"
"I know neither of us had much to do with the conflict between Aegon and Dany, but something makes me think Varys was involved."
"He was involved with Daenerys."
"I think he was originally involved with Aegon. Although by the time you treat with Daenerys, he'd switched sides."
"We'll keep a close eye on him," Jon whispered, turning his attention back to Oberyn.
"Do you still wish to help us stop the Lannisters?" Jon asked, and Prince Oberyn smiled.
"Our family has waited almost twenty years to avenge my sister. Nothing would please my brother more. You are the one with the largest army, and for now, you will have our support against the Lannisters. When the dragons arrive, our position will remain neutral. If we have to prepare for a war with the dead, we do not want to waste the lives of our soldiers in a stupid dance of dragons."
There was no argument Jon could think of to counteract Oberyn's reasoning. Jon had tried to ignore the potential war brewing between him and Daenerys. As of now, he couldn't think of any way to align himself with her without handing her the Iron Throne. Marriage wasn't an option, not for him, anyway. It was the only downside of marrying Sansa. Although the issue wasn't pressing, it would have to be addressed in the future. He sighed and turned his attention back to Oberyn.
"Do you still wish to go to the wall?"
"I believe it wise for me to witness the problem. Do you not think?"
"Aye," Jon agreed. "Edd Tollett can accompany you as far as Queenscrown. I'll send word to uncle Benjen to escort you to the wall from there." Jon turned to Edd. "Do you think you can help Mance with the workings of Queenscrown?"
"Aye, that's if Mance Rayder doesn't want to boil me alive when I get there," Edd replied in his usual sarcastic tone. "Knowing my luck, I'll get eaten by a shadowcat on my way there. If I'm unlucky, I'll freeze to death. I suppose it's better than becoming one of those blue-eyed-fuckers," he said, then reddened as he realised there were Ladies in the room. "Er… pardon my language."
Sansa laughed, but it never reached her eyes. "No need for apologies, Lord Eddison, I've heard worse." Edd blushed.
Jon noticed Lady Stark cast Sansa a stern look, but Sansa must have either ignored it, or didn't see it, for there was no reaction. Her face was like a mask.
"I'll have ten of my men escort you," Ned told him.
"Thank you, Lord Stark," Oberyn smiled and returned to his seat, whilst Jon stood.
"I have decided who will be part of my small council until we take Kings Landing," Jon pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "For those names called, we will meet in Lord Stark's solar at midday, allowing us to break our fast. For my hand, I have chosen Lord Stark. Master of coin is Lord Manderly. My master of war will be Robb. The master of law was to be Prince Oberyn, however, with your imminent departure, I would like to offer the role to the Blackfish. High admiral of the western fleet will be Theon Greyjoy. Temporary high admiral of the eastern fleet and master of ships will be Ser Davos Seaworth. Master of whisperers is Lord Varys and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard will be Ser Barristan, who is travelling to Winterfell as we speak. Maester Luwin, I would wish for you to attend."
Maester Luwin bowed his head.
"Of course, your grace."
"Are you going to draw up a war council?" Lord Umber asked.
"Aye. That will be the first agenda of the small council. Once done, we will call another meeting and let you know who is on it. Jon had already decided upon most of the kingdom representatives, but he wanted to keep it close to his chest for now, considering many wouldn't be attending for a while. "But for now, I think it is time for us to break out fast."
The servants entered the room with various breakfast dishes. But before they reached their table, Sansa stood and stormed off. Jon looked at Ned and Cat to see if they had any idea what was amiss. His uncle shrugged, however, Cat seemed to have an idea. Whatever it was, he was the cause of it, from the looks his aunt was giving him.
"If you'd excuse me," Jon said, scraping his chair against the stone floor and rushing out to follow his wife.
⸺⸺⸺◊◊◊⸺⸺⸺
After asking around, Jon found her standing atop the battlements and staring to the south. Wisps of loose copper hair whipped around her pale face, which stayed as still as stone. The Lady of Winterfell stood before him, not his wife. Fuck, he was in trouble.
"Sansa."
She turned to face him, her eyes were red. Jon knew it wasn't from the wind, she'd been crying. He approached her, but she turned from him.
"What is it? What have I done?"
"You regretted marrying me."
She must have seen the brief look on his face. Jon hadn't realised how easy he was to read. How could he tell her he didn't regret marrying her whilst admitting it was the only downside of their union? Jon couldn't lie to Sansa, she could see right through him. He took her hands in his.
"Never say that. I do not regret marrying you. If everything in this shit world we live in were to disappear, but I could keep one thing by my side, it would be you."
"By your side? We've hardly spent any time together since we married. It has been two years since we wed, how many nights have we spent together? I mean, as man and wife truly? Not those first two months where we were building Queenscrown. We slept in separate beds."
"I don't know," Jon admitted.
"Four weeks," she told him and he winced. "I know most of it couldn't be helped. But as soon as you returned to Winterfell, you couldn't wait to go out on a hunt for three days."
"That was for Blizzard."
"Three days? I can ride there in two hours. I saw your face when Oberyn mentioned Aegon marrying Daenerys. There was a look of jealousy. Oh, you tried to hide it, but I saw it. As soon as you take the Iron Throne, annul our marriage and wed her. For the sake of the Seven Kingdoms and your heart," the tears were falling from her eyes.
"How long has this been building up? Because you cannot tell me this is new."
"It has always been at the back of my mind that you still love her. Then, when I saw your reaction just now, it brought it all to the forefront of my mind. Jon, I'm tired of fighting. We can pretend to be a happy couple in front of everyone else. Our marriage will keep the alliance together."
Jon couldn't believe what he was hearing. Regardless of what she said, he was going to fight for her. He cupped her face in his hands.
"I don't love her. I know that is what you expect me to say. And what else can I tell you? Once upon a time, I thought I knew what love was. But both of those women held me prisoner. She killed Sam's father and brother. Do you really think I could love a woman like that?"
"But you did," Sansa sniffed.
"It was borne out of fear and desperation."
"And ours was borne out of necessity. You didn't want to marry me."
'Aye, this marriage was thrust upon the both of us. But ever since I saw you at Castle Black, I just wanted to protect you. I've never felt that way before." Jon tucked a tendril behind her ear. "The happiest moments in my previous adult life was when it was just you and I running Winterfell. I sometimes wonder if I was already half in love with you back then." He rested his head against hers. "I love you and I will not have any talks of annulling our marriage, unless you don't love me."
"Of course I do," she sniffed.
Jon pressed his lips against hers. He could taste the salt of her tears, but he didn't care. As long as she was with him. He wrapped his arms around her and brought her to him, never wanting to let her go, but they needed to break the kiss for air.
"Anyway, give me a good reason to annul our marriage?" he asked.
"You could say I cannot conceive."
Memories of his conversation with Oberyn on the boat flooded his mind. He'd been meaning to discuss children with Sansa since he returned, but Blizzard had gotten in the way.
"I don't think Daenerys is our only problem," Jon told her.
"What do you mean?" Sansa asked.
"Aboard the ship, Oberyn mentioned something about his niece, Princess Arianne. I believe he is considering her to be a match for me while Aegon is to wed Daenerys."
"To force you to annul the marriage based upon me being barren?" Sansa asked. Jon pressed his head against hers.
"Gods, I'd hoped we could wait a little longer, until you were older," he felt tears in his own eyes. The thought of losing Sansa was too much. She was young, a little older than his own mother when she died.
"The gods appear to be forcing our hand," Sansa smiled. "Are you sure you want this? We can wait a while longer, if you aren't ready."
"I want lots of babes. I always did, even when I joined the Nights Watch."
"Joining the Nights Watch is a sure route to fatherhood," Sansa teased, and for the first time since they stood on the ramparts, they laughed, until Sansa shivered.
"I didn't want to father bastards," Jon admitted.
"But no babe of ours would be a bastard, Aegon Targaryen."
Sansa smiled, but Jon winced. He'd known who he was for years, but hearing it from Sansa's mouth felt wrong.
"True," Jon nodded. "Do you want children? Now, I mean."
"As long as you are ready, and won't abandon me again."
"Never, unless it is King's business," he promised.
"Alright," Sansa shivered once more. "Why don't we go inside and start practising. And I won't take any moon tea from now on."
Jon took her hand and kissed the back of it as they made their way down the steps.
"We'll have to be quick, you've got a meeting at midday," Sansa reminded him.
"We've got a meeting at midday," Jon corrected her.
"I don't remember being invited to the small council meeting. Will the Lords be happy if I turn up uninvited?"
Jon stopped and realised his mistake.
"They'll have to be. I need you by my side at all times. You are the politician, Sansa. I am good, you are better. I'm fine with the plain speaking northerners, but you have learned the language of the snake-pit. Will you attend?"
Sansa threaded her arm through his.
"You try keeping me away. Although I think you ought to invite mother. She will take it as a slight if you don't. And the men need to see women on the council, just in case you need to appoint a woman for any future role."
They made their way to the family chambers.
"And who would you have me appoint?"
"Asha Greyjoy if she is willing. She would be able to take the role of High Admiral of the West, while Theon would change to High Admiral of the East. I doubt she'll take on the role, unless it means she can kill Euron."
They stopped outside Lord Stark's chambers, and Jon knocked on the door.
"Come in," Ned's gruff northern voice called out.
Jon stood in the doorway, for he wasn't planning on staying.
"I'm here to let you know I forgot to mention in the Great Hall, Lady Stark is also invited to join the small council. As your wife, she will play a role in helping the North if anyone tries to attack. I'd like her to have some experience of a council of this type."
"Aye, son, I'll tell her. She'll be pleased to know she hasn't been forgotten. Did you find Sansa?"
"She wasn't happy about me not mentioning her attending the small council meeting. We were just… er… returning to our chambers. There is em.. something we need to discuss, in um… private."
Jon knew his face was burning bright red. He hoped his uncle was oblivious to it. However, when Ned gave Jon a crooked smile, he knew Lord Stark suspected Jon's meaning.
"Be away with you. You two have barely spent any time together. When the wars start, you'll be living in tents. Enjoy the privacy of warm stone walls while you can."
"Thank you Lord Stark," Jon nodded his head.
"Your grace," Ned replied. Jon shut the door behind him. He turned to Sansa, who had been waiting in the corridor. "Gods, this meeting will be awkward."
Sansa laughed. "Just remember, we are trying to give him a grandchild. Come."
She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the privacy of their chambers.