Game of Thrones: A Second Chance

Jon XVII

A/N: sorry for wait im in the middle of moving to chicago PLus writers block.

When the first streams of light lit up the sky the next morning, Jon felt anything but well rested. It had been a long night for him in his recovered chambers, him not trusting the guards he put in place, even with Rhaegal's looming presence above. Not only that, but his heart felt heavy with the guilt of what he did the day prior.

He could still hear her screams as he severed her tongue from her mouth. Her last words resonated within him for hours on end.

'You're mad!'

He wondered if Sansa knew what those words would do to him, the weight that they held. They ate away at him as he considered his actions. Was he right to cut out her tongue, or was he acting too cruel? What would Daenerys think? Did his coin land on the side of madness?

As he looked out over the battlements, he sighed heavily. He wasn't mad. He was simply delivering justice. Sansa broke an oath, and he was just making sure she never broke another one as a future silent sister. That particular punishment, he had no qualms about. It seemed Arya didn't have any either.

Footsteps sounded from beside him, and he looked over to see his sister with her arms folded behind her back.

"Chilly morning, huh?" Arya conversed, coming to his side to look at the snowy landscape.

"Aye, feels like home," Jon agreed, the crisp winds biting into his face pleasantly. This was where he belonged, in the cold. He couldn't wait to bring the rest of his family over, to see Jaehaerys' reaction to the snow.

"What's your next course of action?" His sister reminded him of his duties.

Jon thought about it. He took Winterfell, yes, but that wasn't enough to secure the North under his rule. He'd need to meet with all the other Northern lords and ladies, to make sure they cooperated. But first, he needed to get sleep at night. He knew just the right solution. "I go north, find Tormund and ask him for help."

"Today?" Arya questioned. "Who will control Winterfell while you're gone?"

"You," Jon answered simply. "You're next in line to being the Lady of Winterfell."

"Lady?" Arya asked in bewilderment. "I'm     not—"

"I know you're not a typical lady," Jon cut her off with a wave of his leather gloved hand. "Perhaps we can change things? Destroy the notion that all ladies have to act a certain way."

"I don't even want to be called a lady," his sister seemed disgusted with the word itself, making him chuckle.

"Lord Arya, then," he jested, to which he got a jab in his side. "You dare harm your King?"

"Oh, shut it," Arya said, crossing her arms again. "So you want me to take control of Winterfell? What of Sansa?"

"Keep her in the cells, feed her soft foods. I'll only be gone for half the day if I leave now," he answered, stepping away from the stone wall he had been looking out over.

"And if anyone tries to object to me?"

"I give you permission to kill them," Jon said with a grin which she returned. That was the end of that.

-

Rhaegal's rumbles were the only sound he heard for the next few hours of flying over the vast northern tundra. That, paired with the northern winds rushing in his ears. Jon was thankful for the heat the dragon emanated, which seemed greater in the cold climate. He supposed he must regulate his inner temperature. Jon would certainly read up on it in the future.