allegiance // jon snow

chapter six

the news of rhaenys targaryen and jon snow's impending marriage rippled through winterfell like a cold breeze, stirring unease among the northerners. in the great hall, the lords and ladies of the north gathered to discuss the alliance, their expressions ranging from skepticism to outright hostility.

"i cannot believe we are entertaining this," lord umber grumbled, his voice thick with disdain. "a targaryen on the throne? after all that has happened, we're to accept her as our queen? what happened to the north being independent?"

lady mormont stood, her small stature belied by her fierce presence. "we have no choice, lord umber! the dead are coming. if the targaryens can bring dragons and armies to our side, then we must rally behind them. this is a matter of survival!"

"survival or submission?" scoffed house karstark's representative, his brows furrowed in disbelief. "have we not fought too hard for our autonomy to bend the knee to a targaryen? what's next, the iron throne? we need our strength, not more chains!"

jon sat at the head of the table, his heart heavy with the weight of their mistrust. he raised a hand for silence, looking around the room at the familiar faces that had always stood by him. "i understand your concerns. but we are at a crossroads. the night king does not care about our pride or our grievances. if we stand divided, we will surely fall."

sansa, seated beside him, nodded in agreement. "jon speaks the truth. we've suffered too long, and if we don't come together now, we risk losing everything we hold dear." as the discussions continued, the sense of unease lingered. many still resisted the idea of the targaryen alliance, fearing it would undermine their sovereignty.

as the lords and ladies filed out of the great hall, only the starks were left with a tense silence hung in the air, uneasy with the fate now entwined with house targaryen. jon remained at the table with sansa, his gaze fixed on the flickering fire as he mulled over the words of their lords. he turned to sansa, his expression heavy. "do you think they'll come around?" he asked quietly.

sansa let out a slow sigh. "they'll have to. the north may grumble and resist, but it doesn't mean they won't fight when the time comes." she looked to her brother, her own eyes shadowed with worry. "they just need time, jon. it's not easy to forget the past."

-

meanwhile in her chambers rhaenys paced anxiously. the walls seemed to close in, every shadow and every whisper reminding her of her family's history in the north. she knew the northern lords were wary of her—rightfully so, she supposed. her ancestors had brought fire and blood to their lands, and now she was here, a dragon ready to claim winterfell for her own.

jon found her in her chambers, her pacing pausing only when she caught sight of him. she tried to mask her anxiety with a polite smile, but he saw through it. "they resent me, jon. i can see it in their eyes."

jon stepped closer, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "they're afraid. the north has never trusted outsiders, and they have every reason not to. but they'll see the truth in time. you've earned their trust more than you know."

rhaenys shook her head. "but what if they don't? what if they only ever see me as a targaryen?"

"then we'll show them otherwise." he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "you don't have to carry this alone."

she looked up at him, grateful for the strength in his words. his presence calmed her fears, grounding her amidst the storm of doubts that plagued her. "thank you, jon. truly." jon nodded, his face softening as he looked at her. "we're in this together. we'll face whatever comes."

-

later, in her own chambers, sansa found arya standing by the window, her posture rigid and her expression unreadable. the tension in the room was thick, almost stifling, as arya turned to face her sister, her gaze sharp as steel. "you don't trust her, do you?" arya's voice was low, tinged with something darker than mere caution. there was an edge to it, a coldness that only grew sharper in times of suspicion.

sansa sighed, looking away for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. "it's not about trust, arya. the dead are coming. we need allies, or we won't survive." she let out a weary breath, as if she were trying to convince herself as much as her sister. "rhaenys may be a targaryen, but she's willing to fight beside us."

arya's mouth tightened, and she shook her head. "fight beside us? or take what's ours once it's over?" her voice was soft but laced with venom. "we've seen what targaryens are willing to do to get what they want. do you really think she's different?"

sansa's expression hardened, though a flicker of doubt danced in her eyes. "she says she wants peace. and jon... jon believes in her." arya scoffed. "jon's always been too trusting, especially of those who promise to protect the north while holding a knife at our backs. remember what happened when father trusted a southerner?"

sansa's jaw clenched, the painful memory of ned's betrayal flashing through her mind. she'd been naive once, but those days were long gone. "i remember," she replied, her voice steely. "but if we let our mistrust poison every alliance, we'll be alone when the real threat comes for us."

arya's gaze remained hard, her hands balling into fists. "the north remembers, sansa. we don't need alliances with dragon queens. we're starks. and if we start bending the knee to targaryens, what does that make us?" sansa's voice was barely a whisper, filled with the bitter weight of reality. "it makes us survivors, arya. survivors who may never forget—but can't afford to dwell in the past."

arya narrowed her eyes, her distrust unwavering. "don't let her get too close, sansa. i'll be watching her, no matter how much jon believes in her. the north remembers, and it remembers every broken promise and spilled drop of stark blood. we don't owe the targaryens our trust or our respect."

sansa nodded, her face impassive but her mind racing. she knew arya wouldn't let this rest, and part of her wondered if arya was right. as she watched her sister disappear into the shadows of the corridor, sansa couldn't shake the cold feeling that haunted her—one that warned of betrayal, even if it wore the face of an ally.