Jon & Sansa

Act I

Jon was at the desk in the Queen's solar, the maester still standing there waiting for a command. He was looking at him, weary of what to do next. Jon's features etched sadness on them, his eyes moving across the words. His betrothed from Dorne was dead. He didn't love her, like he was supposed to, but the two had spent many summers together playing in the Red Keep walls. Jon thought back to his last conversation with the Dornish Princess. She was furious, throwing things at him, the moment he spoke how he was to return North. Back to Winterfell, the place that fostered him, raised him. The family he always wished he was apart of. Away from her.

'You just want to be with that Northern whore!' Jon could still hear her voice know. See her tears. It was the hardest thing he had to do, to her, was to leave her like that. Princess Arianne Martell was a frightening woman, but one he cared for deeply.

"Jon, is there something wrong?" Arya spoke first. His mind coming back to the present. His eyes looked at her briefly before turning to the Queen of the North.

"My betrothed is dead." Sansa looked at him sadly. She understood how Jon felt about the Dornish princess.

"How?" She whispered.

"Poisoned. They say it was by my Uncle Viserys."

"They?" Arya asked.

"The writer claims to be Aegon, my long lost brother."

"The one who died at sea?" Jon turned towards Bran. Bran nodded without him saying a word before his eyes grew white. Sansa didn't like watching her brother go into these transcents. Her eyes catching Jon who gave her an apologetic look. Just as soon as Bran was gone, he was back.

"He's telling the truth. His ship was wrecked but he was saved by a passing fisherman's boat. Because of his age, he stayed with them, until Sir Jon Cunnington had found him. It wasn't until your father's passing till Cunnington finally found him."

Sansa walked over, taking the letter. Her eyes scanning the words.

"It says he is working with the Baratheon boy."

"Sansa, that was unlady like." Arya teased.

"I grow tired of these games. If another King has come into the realm I need to know." She put it back on the table, before walking over to the window. She looked out at the snow falling. Jon could feel her anger.

"He asked me to join my forces, to fight for the Kingdom against my uncle."

"Why? You've never wanted the Southern Kingdom or to be part of its ruling." Arya spoke up.

"No. I've always wanted to be here." Jon smiled, looking at her, before looking at Sansa's back. "With my true family." Sansa turned to see him, before turning back. Her tears coming. She knew what he must do and she didn't like it.

"I will be in the Godswoods." She whispered before running off, Her direwolf Lady and Jon's Direwolf Ghost following her. Her ever present guards.

"Don't know why she goes there. She doesn't pray anymore." Arya quipped up. Jon reached out, looking at the letter.

"She didn't hate Arianne Martell. In fact she rather enjoyed her company when she went to Dorne in her childhood." Bran put in. "Her death sadness her."

"I thought nothing sadnes the Queen anymore?" Ayra looked down at the knife, wondering is she still cries about her Brother and Mother's demise.

"Her Majesty has always had a gentle heart underneath the ice." Jon put out. He stood up, following her into the Godswoods

~❆❆❆~

Sansa sat on the root of the great Gods Tree next to the small pond. Her hand in Lady's fur. Her eyes dry, but Jon knew when she was holding back tears.

"Normally the betrothed is the one who should be shedding tears." Jon motioned for Ghost, who came to stand beside him.

"She didn't deserve that. No matter how much we have grown to dislike each other, Princess Arianne was my first and only friend I've ever really known in the south." Sansa stood, walking over to the pool of water. Silence echoed through the falling snow.

"You know I have to go." Jon took a few steps closer, breaking the silence, breaking the distance.

"I know... I know I have to stay. If I risk Norther lives for a southern battle, my people will grow to hate me. That I can't do."

"Your a great Queen, Sansa. You were always meant to be one."

"Robb was meant to be King. Rickon was meant to live, Bran was meant to be so much more than a seer of misfortune, but I was never meant to be where I am. If I wasn't than maybe..." Jon placed a hand on her cheek. His eyes connected to hers.

"If Robb had lived, if Rickon was here, and if Bran had never fallen, you and I would have been wed long ago." Jon whispered. Sansa placed a hand on Jon's cheek. His rough beard against her cold hand, felt like home to her.

"I can't say it first." She whispered. "A queen isn't supposed to say it first-"

"I love you Sansa Stark." He quickly answers her. "My queen of love and Beauty."

"I love you Jon Targaryen." He steals a kiss before the eyes of the Old Gods.

~❆❆❆~

Jon was readying his saddle, making sure his provisions where enough until he catch up to his troops moving south. Bran had some with him, he sat there petting the horse.

"Jon, I saw something else in my visions." He turned to look at his foster brother.

"What else?"

"If you go up against Aegon, you will not come back."

"I hope that won't come true." Jon kneeled to become eyelevel.

"Jon, every possible outcome ends in your death if you go up against Aegon." Jon nodded, taking his hand.

"I trust you Bran. Guide the Queen well."

"I will. Remember what I said."

"I will." Jon stood up, jumping on his horse. Riding out of the stables, he looked back to wave goodbye to Sansa. She smiled meekly, both wishing for the same thing. For him not to go. Jon turned back around, his wish unanswered, he rode through the gates of Winterfell and off to war.