dreams full of songs and stories

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/47045593.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Major Character Death
Categories: F/M, Gen
Fandoms: Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Sansa Stark & Daenerys Targaryen, Catelyn Tully
Stark & Daenerys Targaryen
Characters: Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Daenerys Targaryen, Catelyn Tully Stark, Jeyne
Westerling Stark, Robb Stark, Theon Greyjoy, Jaime Lannister, Edd
Tollett, Melisandre (A Song of Ice and Fire)
Additional Tags: Jon Snow Doesn't Join the Night's Watch, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon
Snow is Azor Ahai, Queen Sansa Stark, King Jon Snow, Canon
Temporary Character Death, Jon Snow Loves Sansa Stark, Married Jon
Snow/Sansa Stark, Daenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queen
Language: English
Series: Part 2 of Same Stars
Stats: Published: 2023-05-08 Words: 4,073 Chapters: 1/1
 dreams full of songs and stories
by MayWilder

Summary

The Night's Watch is behind her, her brother beside her. Theon holds clothes in his arms, and
the Lord Commander keeps his eyes trained on the dragons in the courtyard. Daenerys clears
her throat, before letting her voice ring out loud and clear with:

“DRACARYS.”

Rhaegal and Drogon open their jaws. Heat fills the courtyard, warm as a Dornish beach,
when they breathe identical showers of fire upon the pyre. It engulfs Jon’s body, and
Melisandre’s voice calls as clearly as Dany’s did, high Valyrian falling from her lips. Even
without the dragon’s continuing to breathe their fire, the courtyard heats further and the
flames of the fire grow higher with every word the Red Witch speaks.

Sansa watches, eyes locked on her husband's body, and waits.

Melisandre finishes, collapsing on her knees before the pyre. Jon’s body remains still, and
Sansa’s heart falls to pieces. The hope she’s been harbouring fails her now, as Jon’s body
stays lying in the flames and Rhaegal gives a loud shriek, claws digging into the snow. It
cannot be. It cannot be, it cannot be, it cannot-

Several shouts of surprise fill the air.

Jon’s body is rising.

Notes

So I was in a weird spot when I finished up "we look up at the same stars." I was struggling,
with my personal life and new medication and just wanting it finished. For some reason, I
decided that I would do an epilogue with a sort of look to the future, an epilogue as a
beginning, but I didn't like where it fit (and I know I got a few comments on the weird
choice). There will be a sequel at some point, but right now I decided to move the epilogue of
"same stars" to a stand alone fic, a kind of in between to show the beginning of the long night
before i dig into it in another fic.
Catelyn is reluctantly sharing tea with the dragon queen when they hear the cry.

It’s a terrible, terrible thing. Jon and Daenerys’s dragons are always terrifyingly beautiful.
They can give great big roars and breathe fire from their bellies, and they cause every man
who comes across them to stumble in fear. The Targaryens and their closest companions
seem to be the only ones who do not fear them, though they respect them. It is well known
that these magical creatures are not to be trifled with.

But when they hear a shriek, so powerful it’s felt in their chests, Daenerys’s face blanches.
She shoots to her feet as it continues, a horrible wailing high pitched and broken, almost as if
someone is crying. Catelyn follows her, rushing down the corridors as there are human
shrieks, servants and nobles alike cowering in corners.

“That’s not Drogon,” Daenerys calls to Catelyn as they hurry towards the sound. “It must be
Rhaegal.”

Jon’s dragon. “What would cause this?”

“I don’t know, they’ve never done this before.” Daenerys looks fearful, one hand pressed to
her chest. “Something is wrong. I don’t know what it is, but it’s wrong.”

Catelyn’s feet carry her more quickly to the broken tower.

When Jon and Sansa first returned to Winterfell with Daenerys and their company, Catelyn
was overjoyed at the prospect of all of her children being in one keep. She knew they came
because of concerning reports from Castle Black, combined with green dreams from Bran
where he sees impossible terrors in their future. Robb himself had journeyed to the Wall to
see about the nightmarish tales of the dead who walked again and could only be killed by fire
or Valyrian steel. Despite the worrisome stories they came to investigate, they both stepped
out of the carriage and into the courtyard of Winterfell with smiles on their faces…

And Sansa five months along with child.

It was delightful to see Jon fret over his pregnant queen, despite the assurance from the
maester that their journey would not harm the child. Catelyn and Jeyne fussed over Sansa in
joy as well, leaving the queen properly showered in affection. It did not go unnoticed that
even the ladies accompanying her and the guards who looked over them were all fiercely
protective of both king, queen, and heir. Catelyn witnessed Ser Barristan himself fetch a tray
of lemon cakes for Sansa first thing in the morning.

Such a small task, such great meaning.

That loyalty is further proven by their arrival to the broken tower, which Rhaegal has taken
residence in. Daenerys’s dragon is too large for the tower, but prowls around the gates now,
calling for his distressed brother. Rhaegal is on all fours, his massive head thrown up as he
screams, Sansa held back by Ser Barristan and Ser Reynald.

“Your Grace!” Ser Barristan pleads. “We do not know what ails him, he could hurt you.”
“Rhaegal would never,” Sansa says. “Step aside, Ser, he needs me.”

“I know you care a great deal for the king’s dragon, Your Grace,” Reynald tries. “But we
must be cautious. The child-”

“Is a Targaryen,” Daenerys snaps, stepping forward. “Unhand your queen, Sers, for she is the
only one who can stop this. Even I do not share the connection with Rhaegal that Sansa
does.”

Catelyn wants to object, but she learned long that arguing with Sansa led nowhere. So
instead, she watches with bated breath while Ser Barristan and Ser Reynald step aside. Sansa
walks to Rhaegal, reaching a hand out and muttering in what Catelyn knows is Valyrian, even
though she does not know the language. Jeyne clutches at her brother’s arm, and Sansa’s
ladies maid comes to her side.

With the queen’s approach, the dragon ceases its wailing. It’s great head bows before Sansa
as it gives trembling breaths. Smoke puffs from his nostrils, but Sansa kneels next to him and
strokes his snout. “Oh, my sweet boy. What’s happened? Are you ill, or injured?”

The dragon huffs.

“Is Drogon?”

Another huff.

“Is it..is it Jaehaerys, Rhaegal?”

Rhaegal throws his head from Sansa, another shriek letting loose. Daenerys inhales sharply,
and Sansa looks to her. “Dany…”

“Our dragons are bonded through fire and blood,” the dragon queen says. “If something has
happened to Jon, he would know.”

Sansa swallows and coaxes Rhaegal back to her. “Tell me, Rhaegal, you must tell me. Is he
hurt?”

The dragon does nothing but rumble.

“Is he…” Sansa stops, taking a heaving breath. Daenerys trembles next to Catelyn, and the
woman offers her arm even as Sansa’s voice breaks. “By the gods. Is he gone, Rhaegal?”

The dragon wails again.

Sansa’s body crumbles. She curls around herself, a sob leaving her lips. Catelyn and Ser
Barristan both move closer, but Rhaegal stands suddenly over her and snaps his jaws. They
stop immediately, hands up.

“Settle, Rhaegar,” Daenerys says in a careful voice. “We will not hurt her or the babe.”
“I have to…” Sansa wipes at her face, pushing herself to stand. When she falters, her hands
find purchase on the dragon’s neck. “I have to go to him, I have to see what’s happened.”

This is not received well.

“Your Grace, I beg of you-”

“You cannot risk your own health, Your Grace-”

“What if you ride into danger?”

“Sansa, sweetling, you cannot risk it in your condition-”

“I am Sansa Targaryen!” the woman roars, cutting off protestations. She breathes heavily,
her red hair wild and tears streaming down her face. Catelyn’s heart breaks at the sight. She is
still so young. “I am Queen Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, sister to the Young Wolf and
bride to the Dragon of the North. I carry the crown prince of the seven kingdoms in my
womb, and no harm will come to me on a dragon’s back, and no soul will stop me from going
to my king.”

Sansa’s breaths are the only noise in the courtyard. Catelyn watches as her daughter, still so
young, pants and cries for her husband, belly swollen with child six months along now. She
does not know what she fears more: Sansa riding on dragonback with her womb so heavy, or
Sansa’s health if she is not allowed to leave.

“Let me come with you,” Daenerys pleads, the only one allowed close. She too looks
terrified, but neither young woman looks any less determined. “We will fly together. We will
go to him.”

Sansa nods sharply. She looks to her ladies maid. “Bring me my cloak and gloves, Bella.
Queen Daenerys’s as well. We leave the moment you return.”

)-(

When Rhaegal and Drogon stop in front of Castle Black, they’re met at the gates by Lord
Commander Tollet. Sansa recalls him from when he came to escort Robb and Jon to the wall,
sharing his own concerns of what has been plaguing the Night’s Watch and Free Folk alike.

“Your Grace,” Edd says dourly. “I will take you to the king, but you must know, a woman is
here to speak to you. She said you would know her as the Red Woman.”

Sansa stops her brisk walk abruptly, turning sharply to the Lord Commander. “What, in the
Light of the Seven, is she doing here? His Grace forbade her from practicing in the Seven
Kingdoms because of her sacrifices.”

“I know not, Your Grace, only that she arrived before you,” Edd explains. “She insisted you
would want to see her.”

“Bring her to me, then,” Sansa orders. Jon didn’t trust the religious zealout who burned
people alive. Sansa is hesitant to meet with her, but she also remembers how the woman’s
belief in Jon’s reign was the only reason Stannis bent the knee. Without her, who knows
where they would be.

Azor Ahai. The Prince Who was Promised. Those had been her words.

Sansa and Dany are led through the castle. All around them are men dressed in black,
intermingled with those who can only be the Free Folk. Their furs are different, their
mannerisms completely unlike those around them. Women and children are with them, all
staring at Sansa and Dany with distrusting eyes. Sansa wonders at they could possibly be
doing south of the Wall and if it has anything to do with Jon’s death.

Jon’s death. How sharply that pain cuts.

“The king invited them south after he saw what was beyond the wall,” Edd explains as if
sensing her confusion. “It wasn’t well received by some of the men. They…”

Rage makes Sansa’s hands quiver. “Where are they?”

“Heavily guarded by Ser Loras and several of your brother’s men. The king’s guard has not
slept since they were imprisoned, deciding that he would guard them until we could have
word sent to you.”

“And Ser Hollis?”

“He guards the king’s body. He was on duty when the king was attacked. He’s recovering
from his own injuries, but cannot be moved from his post. I think he feels guilty. Between
him and that wolf, nobody has been allowed near the body. Waiting for you.”

“Then we won’t wait any longer.” Sansa moves a hand to her belly, where her child flutters.
“Take me to them.”

Robb is waiting outside a door with Lady Melisandre. Around him are guards, as well as a
thin, tired Theon Greyjoy and a few men of the Night’s Watch. Sansa falls into her brother’s
arms, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “You are unharmed?”

“Yes,” Robb whispers. “Sansa, I’m sorry. I wasn’t with him, I woke up when I heard him
calling out.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sansa tells him. She looks at the lady beside him. “Why have you come?
No riddles, no pleasantries. Why have you come, right at my husband’s death?”

“To tell you that he is not dead, Your Grace.” Melisandre is solemn. “The king’s body
remains frozen, his mind and soul trapped, but he is not dead, and I can bring him back.”

“You cannot be serious,” Jaime Lannister scoffs, arms folded. Sansa almost doesn’t recognize
him, for all the furs he wears and the thick beard at his chin. “He can come back from the
dead?”

“What is dead may never die,” Theon says lowly from beside Robb. “He’s already been
reborn once, right?”
“That was different,” Dany disagrees. “Jaehaerys did not die, another did. The dragons came
forth between fire and the blood of the woman who killed my husband, as well as my
husband’s body.”

“I can return the king to his body,” Melisandre says. “I swear to you, he is the chosen. His
purpose has not yet been fulfilled. He will be the one to end the Long Night, to bring peace to
the realm.”

“He’s already done that,” Dany snaps. “The queen does not need to hear your false
promises.”

“They are not false, Your Grace.”

“Sansa,” Dany turns to her now, violet eyes wide and shining. “You cannot let her do this. It
will only end in heartbreak for you. I have seen what a witch can do, how she promises life
but only brings death.”

“Your nephew is not Khal Drogo, Your Grace,” Melisandre says sharply, bringing Dany up
short. Not many know the specifics of the rebirth of dragons. “He is the Prince Who Was
Promised. He will return to you, fully healthy and strong as he was before he was murdered
in his sleep by cowards. He is a dragon. He too will be brought forth through dragonfire and
the blood of his own body.”

Sansa purses her lips to keep the sobs at bay as the people around her bicker. Her eyes drift
shut as she thinks about her last private moments with Jon.

“I will miss you while you are at the wall,” she sighs against his lips. Her hips roll over his,
her hands twist into his hair. He moans, unabashedly, and squeezes the flesh of her bum to
hold her closer. “Tell me you will think of this while we’re apart.”

“Every moment I’m not with you,” he rasps, sincere gaze upon her. “I shall think of you
always, Sansa, sweet girl, of this feeling you give me. The warmth of you…”

Sansa kisses him. “You will return to me.”

“Yes, my queen,” he groans, chasing her lips again. “I promised, I know I did, I won’t leave
you, I swear.”

“Always with me, my love,” Sansa pleads.

“With everything in my power,” Jon lays back, bring her as close as they can be with her
growing stomach between them. Pleasure builds between them, and Sansa cries out. “I love
you, Sansa, I love you-”

“Silence!” she barks out, holding a hand up. The people around her quiet, and Sansa keeps
her shoulders straight. She is a queen . “Lord Commander, please have your men build a
pyre. Dany, please work with the Lord Commander and Ser Jaime to ensure the courtyard can
receive Rhaegal and Drogon. My husband will be reborn in dragon fire.”

She is met with stunned silence.

“If this fails, he will be receiving a Targaryen funeral rite. The men who murdered him are to
be executed swiftly, and then we will begin to discuss how to hold the Free Folk and how to
prepare for the coming of the Long Night.”

“Sansa,” Dany whispers. “Are you certain?”

“I have made my decision,” Sansa says. She looks at Lady Melisandre. “What needs to be
done?”

An hour has passed when Sansa coaxes Ghost to her side. She buries her face in his fur and
whispers to Ghost her plans. She knows he understands her, just as Rhaegal does, and she
begs him to allow her to take care of Jon. He allows her, laying at her feet with watchful red
eyes while she cries over Jon’s body, marred by stab wounds. Her fingers caress the one
above his heart that no longer beats or bleeds. It’s ugly and terrible, and she prays it will heal
with Melisandre’s spell.

To the old gods and the new, bring my husband back to me.

Following Melisandre’s instructions, Sansa clips her husband's hair short. She tosses his
beautiful locks into the hearth, speaking Valyrian. She washes his body free of dried blood,
takes the clothes he died in and adds all of it to the hearth as well. When that’s done, she uses
all of her strength to put him in a pair of breeches and a simple tunic. The fire will burn them
away, but he will not be carried to the courtyard naked as his nameday.

“Sansa?” a knock comes at the door, Robb’s voice on the other side. “It’s time.”

To the old gods and the new, bring my husband back to me.

Sansa allows him entry. She orders Ghost to let Ser Loras and Ser Hollis to carry the king’s
body behind her, the small company walking to the courtyard. Sansa’s crown sits heavy on
her head and her child sits heavy in her belly, but she keeps her shoulders straight and her
chin high, even as her lips tremble.

To the old gods and the new, bring my husband back to me.

The Kingsguard places Jon upon the pyre that was hastily built. Sansa stands next to
Daenerys, who keeps her gaze locked on Jon’s body. She hasn’t spoken to Sansa since the
decision was made, but Sansa understands. She knows what happened to Dany’s husband,
from the infection to his death to his rebirth to the way Dany ended his life with her own
hands.

To the old gods and the new, bring my husband back to me.

The Night's Watch is behind her, her brother beside her. Theon holds clothes in his arms, and
the Lord Commander keeps his eyes trained on the dragons in the courtyard. Daenerys clears
her throat, before letting her voice ring out loud and clear with -

“DRACARYS!”

Rhaegal and Drogon open their jaws. Heat fills the courtyard, warm as a Dornish beach,
when they breathe identical showers of fire upon the pyre. It engulfs Jon’s body, and
Melisandre’s voice calls as clearly as Dany’s did, high Valyrian falling from her lips. Even
without the dragon’s continuing to breathe their fire, the courtyard heats further and the
flames of the fire grow higher with every word the Red Witch speaks.

Sansa watches, eyes locked on her husband's body, and waits.

Melisandre finishes, collapsing on her knees before the pyre. Jon’s body remains still, and
Sansa’s heart falls to pieces. The hope she’s been harbouring fails her now, as Jon’s body
stays lying in the flames and Rhaegal gives a loud shriek, claws digging into the snow. It
cannot be. It cannot be, it cannot be, it cannot-

Several shouts of surprise fill the air.

Jon’s body is rising.

The king heaves into sitting, gasping for hair as the flames lick upon unharmed skin. He
looks wild, like a true dragon himself, scrambling to stand upon the fire as if it does not harm
him. Sansa and Dany both move forward, but Robb holds Sansa back. She is not impervious
to fire as Dany is, so she lets the other queen rush forward to beckon Jon down. Jon looks
confused as Dany approaches, but accepts the hand she offers and climbs down into her arms.
She brings him away from the pyre, nodding fervently to Sansa, who snatches the clothes
from Theon and runs to her husband.

“Sansa,” he croaks, body streaked with ash. “What’s happened? I don’t -”

“Shh, my love,” Sansa helps him into a shirt, tears streaming down her face. “Put this on, we
must get you inside so the maester can look over you. I promise we will discuss everything.”

)-(

Jon orders the execution of the men who killed him. He takes each head himself, punishing
the men for regicide. Sansa stands close by the entire time, not once turning her gaze from the
heads lolling off the block. She cannot regret the loss of their lives when they very nearly
took her husband from her.

When it is over, Jon calls a council of sorts. Robb, Dany, and Sansa join him with members
of his guard and the Night’s Watch. Everyone is tired. Nobody has slept since Sansa touched
down in the courtyard, since Jon was resurrected amid dragon fire and hastily cleaned up
with Sansa whispering explanations to him. Her husband is weary, eyes heavy, but still sharp
and determined.

“After what I’ve seen, I will commit myself to this cause,” Jon says hoarsley. He looks at
Sansa. “The dead are real, my love. I know you believed your brother, but I have also seen it
for myself. The dead walk again, and the Night King…I saw him. Just as Bran predicted, just
as Robb told us. He is real and he terrifies me.”

The men in the room shift in agreement.

“Bran believes we have some time yet, and the Maesters say we still have a year, maybe two
before Winter truly comes. That gives us time to prepare.”

“This winter will be worse than any other,” Robb advises. “We must take drastic approaches.
Not only for the Night King, but for Winter itself. Even if he is defeated, Winter takes many
lives.”

“If it’s truly that bad,” Theon says. “The glass gardens at Winterfell won’t produce enough
food to feed the people who will flood Wintertown, and the castles and towns all over the
North.”

“They need some way to survive winter in their own castles,” Robb agrees.

“Then we’ll need to ensure every holdfast is outfitted with glass gardens or expanded if
they’ve already got them,” Sansa tells him. “The next two years gives us time to prepare the
North.”

“And all the kingdom,” Robb points out. “When winter comes, it will come for us all.
Especially this one.”

“Lord Stark is right,” Jon sighs. He looks to his queen. “Do you feel comfortable taking
charge of this task, my love? You’d need to coordinate with all seven kingdoms on ensuring
these projects come to fruition.”

“Yes,” Sansa promises. “I will seek my ladies’ and my mother’s help in writing scrolls for
ravens to carry throughout.”

“Good,” Jon says. Their hands link. “Our trip home will be longer, as I plan for us to stop at
each Warden’s home to discuss the issue of winter.”

“And the white walkers?” Jaime Lannister asks. “You and the Starks may believe us, Your
Grace, but there is no guarantee the rest of the realm will see it as more than a fairytale. I
don’t think I would if I had not seen it myself.”

“I will not hide the reports, but I will not disclose what I think,” Jon tells them all, though he
stays close to his wife. “Mine and Sansa’s rule is still too fragile to introduce this belief in
magic. The dragons are enough. If you agree, love, I believe it wisest to withhold our belief
until the time comes closer.”

“I agree,” she says. “We will need to take a firmer approach to winter, but if the crown assists
in costs and materials, they will see it as Starks on the throne overreacting to the Winter but
won’t go against it.”

“What about the mining of Dragonglass?” Theon questions. “How will you explain that?”
“Trading, I suppose,” Sansa suggests. “Dragonglass is unique to Dragonstone, and we can
say we are mining it for trade. Dany says it is considered exotic in the Free Cities.”

“Clever girl,” Robb muses. “In reality, we will need someone to mine it.”

“What of that blacksmith Davos tells tales about?” Jon asks his wife. “Perhaps he can oversee
the mission of finding him and getting everything mined.”

“It sounds like an excellent idea,” Sansa agrees. “We’ll also need to send some up here for
Mikken.”

“Yes, he can see how we might incorporate it into more, find other uses.”

“Perhaps locks on windows and doors? Bolts and such.”

“To make it more difficult to breach a castle?”

“Precisely.”

“Women and children will be further protected.” Jon scratches at his beard, as he always does
when nervous. The reminder of his usual ticks makes Sansa’s heart warm. He is alive. “I will
be sending supplies here, but we need to come up with a contingency plan. You also need at
least a small glass garden.”

“And the Wildlings?” Edd asks. “Where will you have us take them?”

“The Wildlings are being given the Gift,” Jon decides. “I discussed it briefly with the Lord
Commander, and we’ve agreed it’s our best option. The village has hardly any smallfolk,
though they may not be receptive to Wildlings. That is why, Robb, I will ask that you ensure
they get there safely. Whether escorted by yourself or your men, I do not have a preference.”

“Understood,” Robb said. “I believe it best if I escort them myself.”

“After that, you’re bidden to return to Winterfell. Sansa and I will most likely be gone by
then, as we will need to begin our progress as soon as possible.”

“If I may,” Jaime interrupted. “But I’ve seen many children brought into this world, Your
Grace. The kind of progress you are speaking of, to travel through the kingdom…it will take
more time than Queen Sansa has before giving birth.”

Jon’s face paled, clearly having not thought of that, but Sansa places a consoling hand on his
arm. “We will make it. I will take caution, and let you travel south of King’s Landing without
me. You do not need my assistance in the Reach or Dorne, as you can take Lady Olenna.
Varys and I will maintain the Keep until I give birth.”

Jon nods. “Good. We’ve a plan in place for Winter. I will have the scholars at the Citadel look
into the Long Night, and we will begin fortification and planning. All reports of the Night
King are to go to Winterfell, where they will be directed to me.”

Robb comes closer to Jon and Sansa. "This is no easy task, cousin. It will take time."
"Aye," Jon agrees. His gaze finds Sansa's and their hands find each other's. "But it will be
worth it. When the Long Night comes, we will be ready."

"And we will follow you in whatever ways are required." Sansa kisses her king's fingertips.
"May the Dragon of the North save us all."
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