Turning Back

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/22406017.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/M
Fandoms: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), A
Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Relationship: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Characters: Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Arya Stark, Bran Stark,
Catelyn Tully Stark, Theon Greyjoy, Jaime Lannister, Tywin Lannister,
Cersei Lannister, Joffrey Baratheon, Robert Baratheon, Benjen Stark
Additional Tags: Angst, Time Travel, POV Sansa Stark, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, POV
Jon Snow, King Jon Snow, Jon Snow and Sansa Stark are Cousins,
Married Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, BAMF Sansa Stark, BAMF Jon Snow,
Established Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Time Travel Fix-It, Heavy Angst,
Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, House Stark (A Song of Ice and Fire), Jon Snow is
King in the North, R Plus L Equals J | Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar
Targaryen are Jon Snow's Parents, Political Jon Snow, Sansa Stark is
Queen in the North, Queen Sansa Stark, Sansa Stark Deserves Better
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2020-01-25 Updated: 2023-05-18 Words: 33,797 Chapters:
9/?
 Turning Back
by prettylittlepetticoats

Summary

It was an impossible idea born from pain, and yet, somehow the impossible became a reality.
Now they are back, they have a chance to change things, to forge a path into the future that
was better than before, to forge a world that was better than before. However, with turning
back the clock comes consequences they hadn't even considered. {timetravel}
 The Future
Chapter Notes

had this idea for a while, pulled the trigger, bonappetite!

this story has undergone editing in january 2023, plot, ship, storyline are all the same,
the story has just been improved with grammar/writing style/minor changes to allow for
continued updates - I do recommend a re-read before the new chapter is posted!

this story clearly diverts heavily from canon, and is 70/30 books/show. ofc this is jonsa,
don't like? don't read.

I've got the general sl mapped out, and will now be trying to update more regularly!

songrecs: jenny of oldstones - florence and the machine

See the end of the chapter for more notes

'Kill the boy Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy and let the man be born'

- Maester Aemon to Jon Snow

-x-

"This will work"

Famous last words one might say. When was the last time anyone had said those words
preceding something that worked? When was the last time those words had ended in
jubilation and success? Not despair and misery? When was the last time he had said those
words only to be met with disappointment?

Honestly, he didn't want to think about those words, the certainty in which he tried to say
them, but with a tinge of doubt tacked onto the end.

It had all started one night, about two months ago, when they had been sat in front of the fire,
bowls of soup warm in their hands; just as it had been when they had reunited. She had his
cloak around her shoulders and was snuggled into it, winter was biting, even for them, and
the fire had provided little relief. And so, they had moved closer together, warming one
another, her breath warm on his neck, his fingers dancing over her shoulder, and spoke of
times long gone, as they often did.

She had spoken of their time as children; when she had snuck into the kitchen to steal lemon
cakes and Lord Stark had caught her with a barely contained smile. He had spoken of their
time as teenagers, sparring with Robb and running around with Bran. She had spoken fondly
of the rare times she and Arya had gotten along, he had spoken of when Rickon had been
born and they had all promised to protect the youngest of the pack.

So many memories, so many beautiful memories they reminisced upon time and time again.
They had spoken of finding the direwolfs too, of Lady and Ghost, the latter curled at their
feet, the former long gone.

After that the nostalgia had come to a pause; it seemed everything after that day had gone
wrong. Everything after the King had come to Winterfell had ended in utter misery, and there
had been no turning back from that point on, a point that had almost defined the Stark family,
in scattering the pack for good.

'We never should have left Winterfell'

And wasn't that the truth.

"I wish we could go back" She had said gently, tears biting at her eyes then, and if he was the
kind to cry he would have been right there with her, only he hadn't cried in years, he could
still feel her sorrow, as it was his own too, but still no tears would come for him, not
anymore.

There was too much coldness in him for tears now.

"Me too" He had responded before putting his arm around her and placing a kiss to her
forehead. They had held onto one another tightly for a few moments, before she had spoke
again, the tears unshed, and replaced with determination, a look that she turned on him.

The look that often preceded some scheme of hers, a look he had long become used to and
yet still made him feel uneasy, for seeing it he knew she was about to drag him into some
plan of hers, and as always, he would agree; how could he not?

"What if we could go back?" She had said, her entire face alight then, a look of hope on her
face that he had not seen in a very, very long time. His own expression had been wary,
confused ... what was she talking about? Had the small glass of mead she'd had at dinner
addled her? (Not that he'd dare suggest as such).

"Sansa, what do you...? Are you okay?" He had started the question but then she had stood in
a whirl to her feet, his cloak dropping to the floor, leaving her in only her white nightgown,
but she either hadn't felt the cold or managed to ignore it... how he was unsure, but he did
know Sansa, he knew when she set her mind to something she was a force to be reckoned
with, and wouldn't be stopped, no matter the circumstance.

Often, he didn't argue with her on such points, but now? He frankly had no idea what to say,
or what she was getting at. He had asked if she were okay, but she didn't even acknowledge
his concern for the moment, too caught up in whatever idea that had sparked in her like a
freshly lit torch.

"Jon, after everything we've seen, everything we've faced?" It was then he twigged where she
was going with this, and he too stood to his feet to take her hands in his, to stop her getting
carried away with herself, to try and calm her from this ludicrous thought she'd concocted.
He could understand it, of course he could, but it didn't make it any less unlikely, didn't make
it any less insane. "Are you telling me this isn't possible?!"

"Sansa" He had heard the condescending tone to his voice as he said it and had winced at the
sound before shifting his tone to one of comfort, but firm, "Some things are out of our reach,
some things ... they just can't be done" To their dismay, many things were out of reach for
them, as much as they may wish otherwise, some barriers couldn't be broken.

"But can you tell me Jon, can you tell me point blank this can't be done? After everything
we've seen? The Others? You coming back from the dead? Giants and the Children and all
manner of creatures?! And you're saying this is out of reach?" She had asked, and she seemed
calmer then, as though she was already sure that it could be done, and that was more
frightening than any mania, that she was sure of it already.

It was just … what she was asking to be done, it couldn't be … but if it could?

It was something they had dreamed about, something that if could be accomplished would be
worth every sacrifice to do so. He too had felt a flare of hope, but Jon was not an optimist,
not like she could sometimes be. His time at the Wall and then countless war had crushed any
slither of optimism in him, he was a cynic through and through now, and Sansa was the one
to hope.

She still retained some part of the girl who'd left Winterfell, with all she'd braved, Jon wasn't
sure there was any of his old childhood self.

The darkness had stamped that out in him.

"No, I can't, but Sansa … some things are simply beyond our reach" He had tried to be
gentle, not wanting to upset her and yet having to remind of her reality, this couldn't be done,
it was insane to even wish.

And yet she had seemed unperturbed, not even slightly shaken by his words before saying,
"Sounds impossible Jon, not is impossible" And then she had planted a kiss on his cheek
before hurrying off. He had followed, grabbing his own cloak off the floor to take to her. The
castle had been dead at that time of night, so she needn't worry about anyone seeing her in
nothing but her nightgown, but the cold was bad enough to sting.

So, he had followed her, to the library, where they had stayed all night researching, and had
done so the next night and the night after. He wasn't sure how she'd convinced him, and yet
he had become as committed as she, mainly because he didn't want to snuff that hope away
that she had decided to cling onto, even if he couldn't quite hope himself.

For months they had survived on minimal sleep, running their Kingdom during the day, and
then researching at night. Most nights they fell asleep in one another's arms but with books
still strewn over their bed. They sifted through forgotten tombs and scrolls in High Valyrian
(thankfully Jon was proficient enough), they wrote pages of notes and throughout it remained
with the same attitude; Sansa with her continued hope, and Jon with his thinly veiled
cynicism.
Initially Jon hadn't even entertained the idea, and yet Sansa's eternal optimism had stuck with
him, and each night though he convinced himself he was doing this for her, part of him was
going along with it and as the weeks passed, he found himself, not quite hoping, that was too
strong a word for Jon's quiet contemplation on the matter. He couldn't hope, but he could
hold on to hers.

Now they had become transfixed on the idea they couldn't stand to let go. And so, the
research had continued night after night, they shouldered the responsibilities of the day, and
then at night dedicated themselves to their research. It was crazy, this had all come from an
errant thought and yet they had dedicated themselves to it fully, as though this were their
life's purpose.

The idea of it, the hope was too much to give up on, even with each book producing nothing,
and each plan down the drain, they continued to hope ... and then finally two months earlier
Sansa had hit a thought.

"What if what we want isn't in a book?" Sansa had said aloud one night in the library, it had
been a weary day at court, and Jon had near been falling asleep over an ancient Valyrian
scroll on patterns of time, when Sansa had spoken, and he had looked across at her. If anyone
could rouse him from near slumber it was Sansa, and she knew it as she smiled at him.

"What do you mean?" He had asked, his accent thick with tiredness. He had felt ready to
drop, and yet though months of little sleep may have been catching up with him he wasn't
ready to give up, not yet, not after they'd committed so much time, not after he had promised
her, he would keep trying, Jon kept his promises, particularly to his wife.

"What if we need to find someone who knows of this? Not rely on books?" She said, her face
almost inquisitive in her idea. He too knew he looked puzzled for a moment - find someone?
Who could possibly harness the power of what they wished to do? Who could possibly hold
such abilities?

He had felt his blood run almost cold then, as it always did when he thought of her and what
she had done for him, or maybe better phrased; to him.

He would never regret what she did, he, but he knew it hadn't been normal, he hadn't felt
quite right since. Yes, he was himself, but not whole, never again would he be; as though a
part of him had been chiselled away when he had been pulled back from wherever he had
been, lost in the darkness she'd ripped him out of.

The Red Woman had pulled him back from the unknown darkness and since then part of him
had been missing, a small part yet, but a part all the same. And as much as he loathed to see
her again, he knew Sansa was right. If she had been capable of dragging him back from
death, what else was she capable of?

It wasn't out of the realm of possibilities, was it? And as soon as he had mentioned this to
Sansa her eyes had lit up, renewed with a fresh hope that had been dwindling; as though they
had never given up and had constantly felt as though they were getting closer ... it wasn't
easy; each week passing without results. But then, this had been a new lead, a new way
forward, and as soon as he suggested it, she had set to work writing the raven scroll to the
Southern court, and an hour later the raven had flown; inviting the red woman to the
Northern court for the first time since the war.

She had happily headed the call, and a month later they had laid out their proposal to her. His
Hand had protested at her coming to their court but Jon always good at diplomacy had
soothed his worries. And so, they had discussed with her for a while, laying out all
possibilities. They had been uplifted that she had heard of such magic's but could not perform
them herself. It had still been a start, it had been something, and that had triggered the next
stage of their journey.

And that had led them here.

Weeks of consulting with those across the sea, weeks of securing items, of working
everything out and finally they were here, in front of the ancient Weirwood tree of the
Winterfell Godswood, dressed in black, everything in place, the snow was ever falling, Sansa
trembled in the cold, Jon did not flinch.

It had seemed ludicrous now they were here and yet as they had joined hands, hers shaking
and his steady they knew this was their shot, this was their chance. They had worked for the
better part of a year towards this, the chance to change things, the chance to turn back the
clock. And now they were here, and she uttered those words.

"This will work"

And though he should have responded with something positive he couldn't help but blurt out
the words he had been thinking for weeks, the thoughts that had been biting at the back of his
mind since she had convinced him to start down this path.

It had been annoying him for weeks on end, eating at him and yet he hadn't said a word, not
wanting to upset her, not wanting to worry her, but now? Now they were here, at the end of
the journey? He couldn't hold back his thoughts as much as he tried.

"But should it?"

He watched as she bit down on her lip, evidently, she had, had the same thought and yet she
spoke without any doubt, "This is what we've been working for, this is what we wanted, to
turn back the clock"

"But what if we forget? What if we go back and we're not us anymore? What if we don't
remember this future?" He said ... "The Red Woman said it's a possibility, what if the
possibility comes true?" He asked in almost a whisper, "What if you go back to looking at me
with contempt? What if I go back to not speaking to you? What if ..." He paused then, his real
worry that had been eating at him finally coming out, "What if you marry someone else?"

And then her face softened, and she walked to him, still clutching his hand. She was within
an inch of him, and her lips brushed against his for a mere moment, like the flutter of a
butterfly's wings.
 "That will not happen, we will remember, we will change things, that is why we are doing
this. We will remember, we will change things" She repeated, then paused to give him a
proper kiss, and he felt his worries melt away at both her words and her touch, she sounded
so sure, how could he not believe her?

"I will always be yours Jon, in this life, the next and the past, I will always be yours"

"As I am yours Sansa, always" He repeated back to her, and he felt a hint of a smile pull at
her lips, and his expression mirrored hers. She waited, waited for him to nod, and he did, and
then they turned back to the Heart Tree, clutching each other's hands so tightly they were
almost one, it was time, it was now or never.

The hour struck midnight and he spoke the words the Red Woman's contact across the sea
had taught them, the woman who had worn a veil over her face and told them she had been
waiting for them when they met. The prophet had called him the Prince and Sansa a Queen,
when Sansa had corrected the prophet that Jon was a King the woman in the veil had simply
laughed.

Still, she had taught them the words, instructed them how to make a paste that they dashed
across one another's foreheads, had sourced them a knife that they both used to slash across
their palms, and wished them luck before cocking her head and laughing again, disappearing
in a plume of smoke as she did so.

And yet they followed the steps she had given, the words they didn't understand, the paste
made from weirwood sap and ashes of a flame he had bled into, their blood then trickling
onto the weirwood bark and the ground at their feet. The clock ticked past the midnight hour
and they both fell to their knees, and waited, waited.

"Nothings happening" Sansa said and he could hear a hint of panic in her voice, and yet he
didn't move to comfort her, as he could see, see past the weirwood tree, see over the hill … a
smoke, a thick black smoke coming for them, that moved too quickly and made everything
crumble in its wake.

"It worked" He said almost in awe and then he heard her gasp as she saw what he was seeing;
the world melting around them, the thick black smoke turning everything to ash in a way they
both knew wasn't natural. It had worked, and Jon pulled Sansa to him, pulled her close and to
his chest.

"Close your eyes Sansa" He said simply and he knew she did, as he closed his too, and
waited, waited, as the smoke surrounded them both, and he felt them lift off the floor, heard
Sansa's gasp of fear and hope, he waited, waited, waited, eyes squeezed shut, face turned into
Sansa's hair, they waited, waited, waited, until they heard a clap of thunder, and everything
went black.

It reminded him of the darkness upon his death, but the light that followed was new.

Chapter End Notes

thoughts?

love/hate/moderately dislike/need more chapters? tell me!

sub for updates

as you can see this is firm jonsa, will involve plenty of angst, fluff, darkness, time
fuckery and au'ness. there will be more magic and heavy involvement of asoiaf lore.

speak soon
 The Past
Chapter Notes

I have been overwhelmed by the response to this story, ty!

a couple of things I did need to clear up:

1) characters are a touch aged up, time reset is to 3 weeks before the Kings arrival.
Sansa 14, Jon/Robb 15, Arya 11, I'll clarify other key ages as we go along.

2) rated m, violence/language, some explicit stuff will come up

3) jonsa firm, have I not made that clear? lol

let me know watcha think!

songrecs: something just like this - coldplay

See the end of the chapter for more notes

'My skin has turned to procelain, to ivory, to steel'

- Sansa Stark

-x-

The darkness consumed all, every inch of their world, it didn't stop, it didn't hesitate, and it
was the very last thing she saw before Jon pulled her to his chest to shield her from whatever
they had called forth.

Even as she had closed her eyes against the unrelenting darkness, she felt it around her,
ripping everything away, turning it all to ash and dust. Both fear and hope consumed her at
the same time, as the darkness swallowed all around them. It was suffocating, and yet as
afraid as she was, Sansa knew deep down it would be okay; she was with Jon, her husband,
he would keep her safe, he would ensure she met no harm.

It felt like hours passed, with the darkness surrounding them, but in reality, it was only
minutes, it took only minutes for the world to fall in on itself, for the world they knew to fall
away. The words they had chanted, their blood spilled on the banks of the weirwood.

It took only minutes for their decision to change everything.

It had been a long journey getting here, and yet Sansa had never lost hope, had never allowed
the continual failures and setbacks to break her spirit. She had known it would be possible,
she had known it was something that could happen in this world so filled with magic. She
had shaken off Jon's cynicism, had accept the sleeplessness nights if it meant they could
achieve what they had so hoped for. It had come with risks, and even she had almost had cold
feet at the end, but it was worth it.

It had to be.

And as the darkness pooled around them, and she clutched Jon as tightly as her arms would
allow, all she could hope, all she could think, all she could plead with the gods, was that it
had worked.

As soon as she opened her eyes, she knew it was different. She wasn't sure how it was
different or how she instantly knew it was, but she knew it was different, she just knew.

For one it was warmer than it had been, she had left behind the harsh winter for a much
warmer climate, the North was always cold, but this felt like autumn, not winter. Second, she
knew she was inside, on a bed, a soft bed, but a smaller one, she lifted her hand to the side
and felt out, and realised it was a lot smaller than she was used to. She also felt different in
herself, her body, her mind, and then it dawned on her … she remembered!

When they had been preparing this the uncertainty had always been there; would they
remember their old lives? Would they come back only to forget all they had experienced? As
her eyes shot open the question was answered; she remembered!

She was in her old room, the place of her childhood that she had so missed over the years, the
place she had dreamed about time and time again. It was her own bedroom, with her own
things, her dolls from her Father on the dresser, a stack of books on the end table, her own
blanket, her own clothes hanging in the wardrobe. It was all here! With shaking hands, she
pulled herself out of bed and walked to the wardrobe mirror.

As soon as she saw her own reflection she almost felt as though her knees would buckle. She
was young once more. Not a day past her 14th nameday! A small squeak left her lips as she
took in her appearance; a teenager once more. Part of her was saddened, that she had lost the
body of a woman, that she had been reverted to the cusp of childhood … and yet, a bigger
part of her was happy. Surely this meant one thing?! Surely this meant she had returned!
Surely this meant their plan had worked!

It was almost too much for her, the reality of it all, and she felt her knees buckle beneath her,
and the tears streaming down her cheeks. Soon she was kneeling on the floor of her old room,
of the place that represented a childhood she had foolishly abandoned. And she was crying,
not out of pain, not out of sadness, but out of sheer joy. This was it; this is what they had been
hoping for, dreaming of, praying for, and it had worked.

It had worked.

But then she realised, it hadn't just been her plan … what about Jon? Fear flickered and her
smile soon fell.
What if he didn't remember?

Her breathing came out in gasps then as the idea dawned on her, and she knew there was only
one way to find out, only one way to find out if Jon, her Jon was lost to her … or to find out
if it had all worked out perfectly, as they had so hoped.

Please Gods, let it have worked out perfectly, just this once, just this once.

She hoped the Gods were listening.

With shaky leg's she stood herself up; she needed to get dressed, to go to Jon's room, by the
armoury, separated from his cousin's rooms. Anger flared up in her then, as it had many times
over the past months … and she recalled one of their more difficult conversations when they
had been preparing for this plan…

"Going back may be the right thing, the thing to reunite us all and change this future but
Sansa …" Jon had paused then, as he often did when in deep thought, his face tensing as the
ideas in his mind washed over him. Jon was a far better liar than her Father, and yet not
quite as good as she. Still, they never lied to one another, never hid anything from one
another and so she didn't interrupt. Simply waited for what he would say.

"Your past was much rosier than mine"

She had let out a small sigh then, shame creeping up her spine, before reaching across for his
hand, taking it in hers, their golden rings glinting in the candlelight next to one another;
simple bands, gold, with no etchings on his, but one small diamond on hers, bands they had
exchanged whilst vowing their devotion to one another. Sansa still smiled when she thought
of that day, when she looked at the rings, the proof of their love.

"Jon, I know that, but we'll change things, we'll make it better. I will not let my Mother …"
She had paused too then, anger washing over her. She had always loved her Mother, always
would, but now? Now she viewed Catelyn Stark with a very different view than she had held
when a child.

"I will make things better for you, as you will for me, I swear it, by the Old Gods and New"

He had nodded then, letting it go for the moment. That was the whole point of this endeavour,
to change things, and Sansa would be damned if she allowed Jon to be mistreated. They had
always promised to protect one another, and Sansa had made herself another promise then,
sitting at that table, hands clasped, his cloak around her shoulders, another promise.

'I will make you happier' A simple promise, but one she had vowed to stand by … if their
insane plan had ever panned out of course. She would not let him hurt, never again.

And their lips had met to seal the promise, the one she took to her heart.

She'd never see him hurt again.

She would stand by that promise, she thought to herself as her mind reeled back to the
present. They had known this journey would be challenging, changing so much, and yet they
had both agreed it would be worth it, like cutting off a limb to save the rest of the body,
sometimes sacrifices had to be made in order to achieve what they needed.

Sansa yanked herself back to the present then, she needed to get to Jon, to see him, to see if
he was in the same mindset as she was. Cold fear trickled down her back as she worried, as
her anxiety threatened to wrap around her throat and choke her, like the cold chilling hands of
winter. She couldn't help but be fearful, fearful that Jon … her Jon, wouldn't remember what
they had shared, wouldn't remember what they had become. That would be worse than
anything, she was sure she would have rather died than have lost Jon.

"Please Jon, please" She whispered to herself, as she stood in front of the mirror, her hands
balled into fists at her sides, preparing herself to leave the room, to go to him, but terrified of
what she might find, "Please remember"

"I could never forget"

Her heart stuttered as she heard those words whispered back to her, and she flew around to
the door so fast she almost slipped. In the doorway stood Jon, her Jon.

Yes, he looked different, younger, his hair a little longer, his beard shorter, still muscular, but
less so, a little more boy than man… and yet to her he looked perfect. She could see it in his
eyes, the way he held himself; like a man grown, this was her Jon, she knew it.

He was here, she could feel it, and she near cried out in surprise, relief threatening to cripple
her.

Instead, a choked gasp left her lips, and her hands flew to her mouth, and the tears began
again. It had worked. Everything they had hoped for had worked, and importantly it
had all worked. They had returned, returned to the past to fix the mistakes that had been
made, and yet they both remembered that future, that future that neither of them had wished
to forget. They may have come back to change the future, but never what they had shared.
Sansa would never change what they had shared.

"Oh Jon" She whispered back, and then they were running at one another, he ruffled, having
clearly hurried to dress, and she in her nightgown still, and yet neither cared. Neither cared as
they crossed the distance of her room in seconds, and she threw herself into his arms, her
arms winding around his neck, his clasping around her waist. A strangled sob left her lips,
and she heard his gasp … that this was real, this had happened, that she could feel him as she
wrapped herself around him and he could feel her, this was real. They were home, and yet
they were still together, it was everything they had dreamed of, everything they had hoped
for.

Sansa had not felt joy like this, true perfect unimpeded joy like this in years. She sobbed as
she clung to him, and she heard him cough to cover up his tears as he held her as tightly as he
could without hurting her. She held onto her beloved and revelled in the moment.

They had done it.

It took several minutes for her to let go of him, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he finally
managed to place her on the bed and sit next to her, discreetly wiping his own eyes as he
placed her down. Even then she couldn't remain unconnected, her hand remained clasped in
his, her legs thrown over his, touching, always touching, warmth lighting up both of them.
She knew she was smiling like a maniac, as was he.

They had never dared to hope things would work out this well, and it showed on their faces;
the surprise, and yet the utter happiness that it had.

Thank the Gods, thank you.

"We did it" He said, lifting her hand to place a kiss on her knuckles, and she found herself
giggling, out of pure happiness, unimpeded and clear. "We did it Sansa"

They were both probably in a little shock, completely taken aback that it had worked.

"We did" She replied back, and that set him off laughing, and her own giggles followed, both
were on a high too elevated to be serious for a moment, the shock turning into laughter. It
was Jon who bought them back down; serious Jon, who only ever showed her, and a few
select others his playful side. He indulged her for a few moments as she giggled and kicked
her feet and clutched at him before pulling her too him with a smile, and her giggles came to
an end. The words unspoken between them were of such gravity the laughter stopped as the
shock peeled away…

They had travelled back in time.

She had never really thought it out loud before, never voiced it. They had travelled back in
time, reversing all the years of pain, and suffering they had both felt.

For her; being a captive in King's Landing, escaping to the Vale, escaping again this time
from Baelish, making her way to the Wall, the Wildlings, the Others, the barely scraped
victory, the loss, the suffering.

She had become a different person, retaining some of her childhood, but she'd grown more
suspicious, colder, the influence of Cersei, Baelish, Olenna all setting in to her, making her a
player of the game, and none determined to win.

For him; running to the Wall, the losses there, the Wilding's, the loss of his first love, the pain
of betrayal, rising from the dead, and then the same barely scraped victory, and the loss and
pain that followed.

He was different too, more so, coming back from the dead had carved out a part of his soul
and left it cold. He was more clinical, ruthless, he loved her, loved the North and their people,
but would see any who threatened them burn for it, or meet the sharp edge of Longclaw.

Now … none of that had come to be, they had reset the clock, the future they had lived and
breathed and felt … that was gone now, gone, they had turned things back.
Of course, they were different, and would remain so; Sansa was still a woman now, in the
body of a teenager, she still had that mind whirling, like a wheel of cart, and Jon, Jon was a
man grown in the body of a teenager, a man grown who had seen battle and killed men twice
his age, who had led troops into war and shouldered that burdened.

But they had made it, they may be changed, but the future remained to them, to paint as their
own.

"When are we?" Jon asked, interrupting her musings then, and she stood to her feet, Jon one
step behind her. He went to the window, she to her desk.

"Looks to be near the end of Summer" Jon called, and Sansa nodded.

"My journal makes it clear we came back when we wanted, about three weeks until the King
comes" Sansa said, and turned back to Jon then, slipping into his embrace once more, barely
able to be apart from him, for her worry they'd be parted forever.

Three weeks, less than a month before the King would arrive and try to rip the wolf pack
apart forever; they couldn't let it happen, their first challenge would be to prevent it, to
prevent the scattering of the pack.

Their laughter was gone now, as they realised the now actually had to do it.

They had a future to change.

He couldn't quite believe it.

He had always been more cynical about this plan, mainly following it for Sansa's sake, never
truly believing it would pan out but going along with things for his wife.

And yet it had worked.

When he had awoken that morning, he had known where he was immediately. In truth, he
had only taken a minute or two to mull it over, to accept this new reality, before panic had
infiltrated his system. He had spent about a minute looking around his old room, not quite
believing what he was seeing, before something much more pressing had hit him.

He had hurried, pulling on clothes, a tunic, breeches, boots, his cloak, weapons belt, sword
strapped to his side he had barely glanced at himself in the mirror, annoyed at his smaller
frame, and more boyish looks, but that still hadn't been his focus. He had barely been able to
realise that Ghost was with him, as small as he could remember, before he had bolted out the
door, ran across the yard, and made his way to Sansa's room.

Because, yes, he was back, and that did fill him with joy, true joy, but he had known as he
had hurried into Sansa's quarters … it would all mean nothing if his wife didn't remember
him, if he was alone in this, it would mean nothing.

He'd rather have died.

He had never felt luckier than when they had embraced, clear as day to both of them that
everything had worked out; even the timing, everything had worked out.

Evidently the Gods had been smiling down on them, and Jon had barely been able to stop
smiling himself, even giving way to join Sansa's infection laughter before pulling her close.
They had done it, truly done it, they had made it, and even though Jon was usually the more
serious of the two, he had taken a moment just to pull Sansa into a hug, kiss her forehead, and
hold her tight, revelling in that it had worked.

But then, he had, had to pull away, unable to just luxuriate in Sansa (as much as he wished it).

They had things to discuss.

Even Sansa had fallen quiet, and as he looked at her, he could see that she felt the same, that
this was serious; that neither of them had quite realised the seriousness of the situation. They
had spent so much time focusing on how to get back, they hadn't thought a lot about what
would happen if they got back.

Now they had to face that, but at least they'd be able to do it together.

"We need a plan" Sansa said then with a nod, but a smile crept into her features, it was odd to
see her younger, but then she still looked much the same, just less innocent, he was glad she
had some of that back, "But for a minute I just want to be with you"

As much as Jon knew they should focus and plan, he could never deny his wife her
happiness. And so, with a roll of his eyes and a giggle from Sansa he pulled her to him,
flopped back on the bed and bought her mouth to his in a kiss. Perhaps they could bask in
this, just for a few minutes more…

An hour or so passed, and yet neither of them were inclined to move. He'd shifted to lie on
his back, and her head rested on his chest, her finger stroking down the front of his tunic, his
fingers playing with her hair, in a way he knew she loved. Both were clearly completely
content, and though Jon had initially only planned to relax for a few minutes he didn't want to
move, and he knew Sansa was happy on his chest, and so he remained, a little smile on his
face as his fingers played with her fiery locks.

"Jon" Her voice was music to his ears, even if it was a little more childish. Both of them had
reverted to a younger age, both had lost the hard touch of adulthood, and yet as annoying as it
was to have reduced strength, and to feel more like a boy than a man again, Jon knew it was
worth it, just another small sacrifice to get them here, the place they had dreamed of.

It was all worth it.

"Jon" His name on her lips again, something he would never get sick of. "Jon…"

"No" He muttered back in protest, and her felt her shakes of laughter against his chest before
he heard her giggles. He too was smiling, still stroking her hair, "I know what you're going to
say" He said, "So, how about we skip the serious part for the moment?" He said with a grin.
He knew they needed to talk, to plan, to move forward, but as she had asked him, he wanted
the same for a few moments more; to simply bask in one another.

And so, a few moments more passed before he knew if he didn't sit up and get serious, he
would never move. He knew she felt the same, wrapped in his arms, he could even see her
smiling when he looked down at her, and so with a groan followed by a whine from her, he
sat himself up and pulled her to sit up with him, though still close, her legs flung over his lap,
his hands on her thighs.

"So" He knew he would need to begin. As much as he loved Sansa, and knew she was a
better liar than he, he was also the one more likely to think of every detail, every possibility,
every outcome, and they needed that now, Jon had a brain for considering ever angle, every
possibility, which had always made him so skilled at combat. It would come in use now as
well.

They had much to think over; how would they assimilate to all of this? How would they
change things to ensure the Stark pack never scattered as it had? How would they stop the
threats that had almost wiped them out before? How would they remain together?

So much to consider, so much to cover, and not nearly enough time.

"So" He began again, but then he heard a scuffle at the door and that had them jumping out of
bed, their laziness disappeared, Jon on alert immediately. He knew he had a look of worry on
his face, as did Sansa … they needed to give off the impression everything was the same, and
he being here, in Sansa's room, her in her nightgown, he ruffled looking, would not give that
impression.

That was one key thing; they could hardly display a relationship to all of Winterfell, when
everyone presumed, they were siblings, his Uncle, Lord Stark knew the truth of course but
had no idea he knew.

No, they would have to hide this … for now.

"Hello?" Sansa called out, both of them stood, now fraught with tension, however as no one
answered, Sansa slipped around to the door, and he watched her every step, stepping back
into the shadows, hand on his sword.

And yet they needn't have worried, as Lady simply ran into the room, annoyed at being
locked out of her mistresses' quarters, a snobby little look on her features that had Jon
laughing in relief as she trotted inside. For Lady, it was a minor grievance to be locked out,
and yet Sansa near collapsed as her direwolf (now very much alive), bounded into the room.

Jon rushed forward then, closing the door shut, and then hurrying to Sansa's side, ready to
give comfort or support. But he was completely ignored, as Sansa wrapped her arms around
(a now very confused) Lady, to hold her close, sobbing into her white and grey fur. Jon wasn't
surprised in truth, Ghost had become enamoured with Sansa in the future they had left
behind, and though he had still been by Jon's side around the Castle, every night he had
curled up at Sansa's feet, so close to her.
Yet, to see her reunited with her own direwolf warmed something in him, and he smiled
down at her. He saw Ghost pad into the room behind Lady and he grinned as his own
direwolf, so small now as he settled down next to him.

It took several minutes of coaxing Sansa to release Lady, (who he had forgotten lived up to
her name and put with several minutes of Sansa crying over her, fussing over her, and
clutching her, only bounding off when Sansa released her, and only managing to look mildly
annoyed), and get her sat back on the bed.

"Gods I missed her" Sansa said, wiping at the tears on her cheeks.

"I know" He responded with a smile, wiping away the tears she had missed, before
smoothing a lock of her hair behind her ear, in a way he knew she liked, "And I'm happy for
you. But we need to figure out how we're going to reunite with the rest of the family without
either of us breaking down" He said.

They were both good at checking their emotions now, used to being stoic in the face of
diplomacy, never betraying themselves, Sansa especially had learned how to school her
expressions, and yet this would be their biggest challenge in that regard.

"Okay, we just need to keep it together in front of the family" She said with a nod, reaching
out to scratch Lady's fur as she'd jumped onto the bed, Ghost settling down next to Jon, "No
crying, keep our relationship hidden"

"Act just as we were as children. You ignore me, I'll brood" He said with a smile, trying to
add some levity.

"That hasn't changed" Sansa teased but sadness had fallen over her; she had ignored him as a
child, and shame still licked at her for that he knew, though he'd long forgiven her.

"Make sure you don't outdo everyone on the practice yard" Sansa added, and he nodded, he'd
need to temper his skill, though his younger body would help in that regard.

He knew this would be hard, they had both known this would be hard, and yet they had tried
their best to prepare for it, in any way possible. They had recounted what they had been like
in their younger years, they had gone over their old interests and hobbies. Jon had told Sansa
she would need to act in a more innocent fashion, and Sansa had reminded him that he would
need to be careful on the practice field, now having more combat knowledge than likely
anyone in Winterfell. Jon had reminded Sansa she would need to be snobbier, and Sansa had
told him to be more brooding. And yet, now confronted with the reality of it all, they both
knew it would be hard.

"Okay" She said with a nod, "I should get dressed"

"And I should head back to my room and clean-up" He said, standing to his feet, and she
followed his lead. He smiled at her though, turning back to stand in front of her. This was all
they'd hoped for, and yet Jon knew it would be difficult, they had much to figure out, a lot of
acting to do, and a difficult path forward … and yet it would all be worth it, they both knew,
it would all be worth it.
 "I love you Sansa, and I'll see you at breakfast" He said with a smile, before leaning down to
place a kiss first on her forehead, then on each cheek, before finally on her lips, lingering for
just a moment before breaking free.

"I love you too, see you at breakfast" She replied, mimicking his words with a smile as he
moved out of the room, and closed the door behind him. This would be hard, and yet it would
be worth it, they had both known it would be a tough journey, and yet they had both known;
it would be worth it.

It had to be.

Chapter End Notes

thoughts?

let me know, and yes to clarify every chapter (1-7) has had 2023 updates to allow me to
continue.

but omg isn't editing your old works cringe af (at least it was for me)?, blugh.
 Winterfell
Chapter Notes

as always I hope you enjoy, I enjoyed editing this

let me know watcha think

songrecs: running up that hill - kate bush

See the end of the chapter for more notes

'So there is magic beyond the Wall after all. He found himself thinking of his sisters, perhaps
because he'd dreamed of them last night. Sansa would call this an enchantment, and tears
would fill her eyes at the wonder of it...'

- Jon Snows thoughts

-x-

They had done it; they had actually done it … and now they were here they had a chance.

A chance to change the past.

Because this wasn't just about running from the pain of the future, the scattering of the pack
and the hardships that had come to them, but this was about ensuring that future, the future of
pain and suffering, never came to be. They had known if they went back, it would be hard, as
two children trying to influence things, but it had been worth a shot, to change the terrible
future they had already lived. That was why they had come back, to forge a better future
going forward.

To make a world that is better than before.

And they already had a way to do that, the knowledge the future had given them would be
invaluable here. Sure, they might not be able to fix everything, but Sansa was sure there were
things they could fix, things they could prevent, and they could change the future. One little
ripple could change the entire path they were currently set to follow, she was sure of it, and
that was enough to quell her anxieties (for the moment) and have her smiling as she got ready
for the day.

She hurried, washing, and dressing, and putting on a gown of hers, one in grey that was
stuffed at the back of her wardrobe. She grimaced at that, remembering how foolish she had
been as a child, so desperate to swear off the North, to turn her back on her heritage and
ancestry. But not this time, this time she would remember where she came from.
She would remember what she was too; a Stark of the North, and proud to be so.

She vowed to never forget such a thing. She would not be the idiot girl she had been,
desperate to acknowledge her Tully side first, and desperate to go South. She knew one thing
would change at least; she was not stepping a foot below the Neck in this reality. She was of
the North, this was where she belonged, she knew that now, and would carry it with her
always.

Pulling on the dress, she left her hair in the maiden style of the North, slipped on some shoes,
grabbed a cloak from the bed and slipped it on. It was only when she fastened it she realised
it was Jon's she had left behind.

She went to take it off, and paused. She should take it off, knew it would be suspicious to
wear it here (whereas in the future it had been a common joke with Jon that his cloak was
basically her cloak for how little he got to wear it), and yet, she felt it wrap around her, Jon's
scent of the minty soap he used, and pine needles giving her immense comfort. She felt
almost as though she needed it, needed it to give her strength.

It was foolish, but she clutched it close, whistled for Lady and stepped out of the room. She
was acting like a little girl again, not the player she'd come to be.

But then, was that such a bad thing?

Later she'd reflect yes, but for now she needed Jon's strength around her, needed to feel the
comfort when she knew she wouldn't be able to get it directly from him.

For today she would allow herself to be girlish, draw on Jon's strength, bask in being back
with her family, for one day, and then she'd get to work.

Just one day.

As soon as he left her room Jon was smiling to himself. They had done it; they had actually
done it. He was grinning from ear to ear as he ambled back to his room, Ghost following him;
it was odd seeing his companion so small again, and yet Jon was sure he would get used to it.
After all, it was hardly the strangest thing he'd need to get used to; it was just one of many
new adjustments he'd need to make.

Thankfully, they hadn't come into this blind. Sure, they had overprepared for the act of
coming back itself more than what would happen once they got back, but they hadn't
underprepared, they knew how they needed to act, knew what challenges they'd face.

But then in truth, neither could quite believe what had happened.

It was one thing talking about it, making plans, and mapping out how they could most
effectively make change, but it was another to be confronted with it, to wake up in the body
of the boy he'd grown out of, to be back at just 16 years old, it was something else.
Honestly, part of him wondered if this were all a dream, and he'd wake up soon, in his bed, a
man once again, Sansa sleeping soundly on his chest, back to the normal.

But no, this was it, they were here, they had done it, this was the new normal.

Sure, it would be hard, he remembered this time with a grimace and not-so happy memories.
His room was the first sign of it; tucked away by the armoury, away from his siblings thanks
to Lady Stark. He knew he was back in for a life of being shunned and treated like dirt on a
shoe thanks to Sansa's Mother, but he could deal with it, at least in his mind he was a man
grown and could handle a little hostility.

It was all still worth it.

That they had discussed that more than anything; was it worth it? Over and over that had
been a point of discussion, and each had agreed; yes, it would be worth it. It meant change, it
meant real change, giving up the lives they had built and come to love, but such things were a
necessary sacrifice, a sacrifice to make things better, not just for themselves or their family,
but for the world.

A necessary sacrifice, they had acknowledged and accepted that as part of this journey.

He nodded to himself as he straightened up, put some shoes on (he had been in a hurry to
check on Sansa, he had shoved on breeches, a tunic and his cloak and nothing else), and
straightened out his clothes. He frowned at his reflection, at the stubble that now replaced a
beard, at the strands of hair that were shorter and now curlier, at his height and lack of build.
Still, that was nothing, he would become the man he was once more, he knew that, it would
just take work, work he would happily undertake for everything else they had gained.

Once ready he adjusted his weapons belt (some would find it strange, carrying steel in the
castle, but he felt better with it) and then reached for his cloak. However, as he looked for it,
he realised with a small chuckle; he had left it in Sansa's room, of course he had. In their
future, it had been a habit of his, to leave behind his cloak for her since she much preferred
wearing his cloak to her own. Plus, Jon never felt the cold like others, hadn't in a long time.

With a smile to himself, he simply made his way out of the door then, Ghost at his heels, on
his way to the dining room. It was breakfast time … a family breakfast, he looked forward to
seeing everyone; Lord Stark, his Uncle now he knew, alive and well, Robb young and living
as well, Bran, no longer burdened by the spirits and responsibilities of the Gods, Arya, a
young girl once more, not the girl without a smile and only a crushed spirit, and Rickon, baby
Rickon, no longer a corpse on the battlefield, but alive with life ahead of him.

He couldn't wait to see them, and so many others; even Theon, whole and well again, and the
members of the Stark household, back where they belonged, instead of gracing shallow
graves, their spirits gone from the world.

They were all here now, where they belonged.

He realised with a grimace that he would be seeing people he wasn't so keen on, but he
simply surged forward, he had anticipated this, prepared for this, and so with a nod to himself
he made his way down the corridors, no use worrying too much, this was what they'd come
back for.

This and more, and the planning that came with it.

But today he would allow himself a little break; after months of planning, of sleepless nights
and hard work, surely today he could have a respite? Reunite with their family, forget all the
work they had to do, and simply revel in their success? Yes, he was sure that would be okay,
just one day, one small day to simply be happy before the planning started anew. Just one day
was all he needed.

Just one day.

She caught his eye as she entered the dining room from the southernmost door, and she felt a
pool of heat quicken beneath her pale cheeks, and she smiled at him, the secret smile she
reserved for only him. He too smiled at her (her smile, as she liked to think of it) as he
entered from the northern door, and she tried to push away the simple thought…

It was going to be extremely hard to act normal around Jon.

In this reality, he was her half-brother, she had viewed him with contempt and distaste, that
was what it had been between them, in truth Sansa was sure their lack of sibling closeness
was what had allowed them to fall in love as adults, they had never viewed one another as
siblings and so the love that had blossomed between them had been a different kind of love.

Still, how idiotic she had been as a child, to shun him in the way she had, and yet she had,
and everyone would expect it to be as such now, it would seem odd if she started acting
completely different around him, and yet Sansa knew it would be impossible to treat him as
she would be expected to; she couldn't do that to Jon, and had voiced as much one night in
Jon's solar.

And so, they had planned she would simply be friendly, as he would be to her, that wouldn't
cause too much suspicion, and yet she knew it would be hard, because yes in this reality she
didn't care too much for him … but she wasn't that child anymore, and her view had much
changed.

She loved Jon, more than she had thought it would be possible to ever love anyone.

He was her husband, her soulmate, best friend, love of her life, and so many more things she
couldn't begin to list. He was her everything, had become her everything, and to turn her back
on that? To pretend that wasn't true…she knew that wouldn't be possible.

Being friendly would be enough in public and they'd find moments together in private, it
would have to be enough.

And so, she made that choice, she would grab him after breakfast to talk to him about it. It
wasn't any shame to her that she wasn't strong enough to shun Jon completely, she wasn't
ashamed that she needed him, and never would be.
When Sansa had first returned to Winterfell, she had been like that, ashamed and embarrassed
to accept help or rely on someone, but Jon had taught her that relying on one another
strengthened them, rather than weakened them. And so, she would pull him to talk soon, it
would just mean an adjustment to her plans she was sure, but nothing too serious. She nodded
to herself then, before weaving her way through the tables, to the head table at the top, where
the rest of the family were already seated.

It was a struggle not to leap at them one by one. She saw them all sat down, alive, healthy,
happy, and she felt tears well at her eyes. She forced them down however, and glanced at Jon
for support, but he seemed to be struggling too, and so she turned back, and simply gave in;
hugs weren't suspicious after all.

First, she went to Rickon, to bundle her into his arms and kiss the top of his head, to which he
erupted in giggles. Next was Arya, whom she pulled into a hug, her younger sister squirmed
and looked surprised, but her smile showed how delighted she was at such a simple gesture
from her sister. Bran was next, and he too grinned as Sansa kissed his forehead and stroked
his hair. Robb merely looked bemused as she bundled him into a hug, and her Father smiled
in surprise and let out an 'Oof' sound as she pulled him into a tight hug, before stroking her
hair down her back. Finally, she went to her Mother, whom she too pulled into a hug, though
her Mother looked confused she was smiling. Sure, as much as she had in truth come to
resent her Mother for her treatment of Jon, she was still her Mother, she still loved her.

Once done she sat herself down with a grin, Jon was already sat down, having forgone the
hugs, and instead was simply looking around taking everyone in, his face betraying very
little, something he'd always been good at. He was smiling though at her, in exasperation
likely since she'd confused everyone around the table, but it was a fond smile and she shot
him a little grin back.

"Sansa dear, are you alright?" Her Mother asked gently, and Sansa merely nodded, she hadn't
acted as she should have, and yet she had promised herself one day, just one day, in her mind
that included a proper reunion with her family … even if it created some confusion. Even Jon
didn't seem worried, instead he was smiling fondly, but had happily broke into conversation
with Robb, his way of reuniting.

They couldn't and wouldn't begrudge each other this luxury, not after the months they had
been through to get here.

After all this was one of the main reasons they'd risked everything to come back, to see their
family back together again and to be part of it. This here was what they had been fighting for,
searching for.

And Gods was it worth it.

"I'm quite alright Mother" She said, her voice gentle, "I just had a bad dream, and was glad to
see everyone" Nods followed her words, and the confusion dissipated, everyone excepting
her excuse. There, that was an easy explanation, and she couldn't help but send a wink Jon's
way at her ease of explaining her strange actions. He muffled laughter at her, and she
suppressed giggles too.
Sure, they were acting a little crazy, their joy was obvious, too obvious; they could barely
contain it, and who would blame them if they knew the truth? If only her family knew what
they had been through, though Sansa was glad they didn't, that they didn't have to know what
had become of their family or the future they had come from.

That would be Jon and hers secret to burden alone.

Tucking into her breakfast Sansa was smiling to herself but frowned as her Mother spoke up
then, interrupting her joy.

"Wait … Sansa, is that Jon's cloak?" A coldness had taken over her Mother's tone, and Sansa
felt herself flinch in annoyance. She saw that same response reflected in Robb, and even in
part by Arya then.

Ahh, so she wasn't alone in her distaste of her Mothers resentment for Jon, something she
hadn't picked up on before now. She had been an idiot as a child, and found another reason to
be thankful of their trip through time; to re-do the childhood she had squandered.

"Yes Mother, Jon borrowed it to me as I misplaced my own" She said simply, she had to offer
some explanation, but there was a curtness in her tone that created suspicion, her annoyance
stopping her from covering it.

"Sansa" Jon spoke next however and gave her a look, but she ignored it, her spine straight as
she looked around the table, it was foolish, she should have pretended she didn't realise, and
yet she couldn't do that to Jon, to take her Mothers side.

She should have, that would have been wiser, and Sansa was usually wise … except for when
it came to Jon apparently.

"Quiet bastard" Her Mother's tone was harsh, and Sansa flinched, heard her Father admonish
her, and yet that didn't stop her Mother, it hadn't in the past and would not now.

"Sansa take it off!" Her Mother ordered, and yet Sansa barely heard those words, instead she
glared across at her Mother, to which her Mother's expression turned from rage to shock, and
she even leaned back in the chair, in surprise, Sansa had never looked at her Mother in such a
way before.

"No" Sansa said, her tone as cold as her Mothers if not worse, foolish but emotions were
ruling her decision making now.

'Never let emotion cloud your actions, the surest way to highlight your weakness'

Littlefingers words, ones she'd usually take to heart, but Jon and Jon alone blinded her ability
to play the game.

Something she'd need to fix and soon.

The Great Hall had become silent then, everyone listening to this … Sansa was always the
perfect Lady after all, no one expected her to talk back (particularly not when it came to the
boy she called 'half-brother'), and it was evident this was the first time this had happened.
Sansa knew this of course, knew how she should be acting, how she was expected to act.

They had planned for this kind of scenario, and yet in her anger Sansa couldn't accept this,
she couldn't act like this was okay, it wasn't okay, and as much as she knew she shouldn't be
such a fool, her hands were shaking with annoyance.

"Leave him alone Mother" Sansa said, trying to catch her tone … and failing, "Jon is a
member of this family, a Stark in all but name … " She wanted to continue, and yet she was
cut off as Jon came up behind her and practically yanked her out of her seat, yanked her to
her feet, and pulled her up before she said something even more stupid.

He looked worried as she turned her gaze to him, yet not angry, in a way he even looked
touched, and yet she could see in his eyes, he mostly looked fearful, and she felt worry at his
expression. Touched by her devotion, worried by her foolishness.

She had let her emotions get the best of her, had allowed them to run over, and she was acting
completely out of character. This was the exact kind of situation they'd wished to avoid, the
kind of situation that didn't work out well for anyone. She'd let her emotions run away from
her so completely, she'd cast the gaze of suspicion across them both.

She even missed the look her Father gave them, as he noticed Jon's hand linger on her arm,
and the look of pure adoration and trust in Sansa's eyes as she looked up at Jon. She missed
such a look, and so jumped as her Father spoke, though he hid his worries better than she'd
have thought he could, missed those too.

"Stop this now" He said, his voice was quiet, calm even and yet it was clear he was angry.
"Jon, Sansa, my solar now" He said in a tone that was not to be questioned before he left the
dining room, not waiting, expecting Sansa and Jon to follow.

This was bad.

They could not be suspicious, in doing so that would mean they would be questioned, Jon
could be in trouble (since her Mother would evidently cast the blame on him), and the
consequences could be far reaching.

Sansa knew she had messed up; she knew that as she looked up at Jon and her own look of
worry was reflected back in him. Still, she nodded, as he did, the two silently communicating
with one another as they often did. It was something they had often done in the future,
communicating with just a look, it was useful when they were in front of their people, or at a
war council, to be able to speak without words, and they were still able to do so now.

And so, they both turned away from the table and hurried to follow her Father, leaving behind
a stunned dining room in their wake.

Their gaze was the words they spoke as they quickly caught up with Lord Stark This was
bad, this was something they had actively wished to avoid, and yet planning didn't detail the
actual situation, and how Sansa who would have once stood by, could not stand and watch
her Mother speak to the man she loved this way, couldn't, wouldn't.
 And that showed them, they hadn't been truly prepared, they hadn't been prepared for
emotions, for anger, resentment, and fury to factor in it, to get in the way. They had messed
up, they hadn't thought their plans fully through, and in doing so they'd bought attention to
themselves … well Sansa had, but Jon walked with her, and would always stand beside her,
she knew that.

"I love you" She mumbled, quiet enough that her Father did not hear as they followed after
him.

"I love you too" He said back, and his tone was kind, he wasn't mad at her she could see that,
though he should be.

Soon they reached the solar, and the door was left open, and yet they had a moment as their
Father moved inside. They had a moment, and Sansa turned to Jon, as he grabbed her by the
arms and looked down at her. They had a moment, and he spoke quickly.

"Just go with whatever I say" He said and she nodded before he pulled her inside, careful to
let go of her as they crossed the threshold to her Fathers solar, into the first test of their ability
to make a change and a difference since they had returned to this past.

She trusted Jon, trusted him to ensure they were safe, to make this cloud of suspicion go
away before any real consequences would be wrought. She trusted him completely, and so
she followed him inside, ready to follow his lead. She would always follow his lead no matter
what.

That was how they kept each other safe, how they ruled the North, she would follow his lead,
and he hers.

Always.

Chapter End Notes

yikes sansa pull it in amiright?

just goes to show our bbys didn't think everything through... this won't be a 'perfect' run
through for them, they are going to fuck up and you know what they say about time and
stepping on a butterflies wing..

sub if you want'

 The Kings Solar
Chapter Notes

reading my old authorsnotes is fun.

do enjoy, let me know your thoughts

songrecs: shallow - a star is born

See the end of the chapter for more notes

'Life is not a song sweetling. Someday you may learn that, to your sorrow'

- Petyr Baelish to Sansa Stark

-x-

Sansa knew they were in trouble, big trouble.

How were they supposed to explain their, her actions? How were they supposed to convince
her Father, a man who had always seen through her lies in seconds of whatever tale Jon was
about to spin.

Sansa trusted Jon more than anyone in the world, but even he wasn't that good of a liar,
neither was she … almost maybe, but not quite.

After all what could they say? They hadn't prepared for this, which in hindsight had been
stupid. They had assumed they would be able to fool their family, that they'd be able to hide
what had happened to them and slip back into things, clearly, they had been wrong.

Though, perhaps it was just her fault, Jon had eased in without a blink, stoic Jon who never
betrayed anything, this was her mess, now they would have to clean it up.

Her stomach was churning, and she clasped her hands in front of her to stop them shaking.
She was nervous yes, but managed to calm herself, to cover her expression as Jon did with
ease. This was her Father, they were safe with him, they just had to be careful not to reveal
anything. She was a seasoned liar now, Jon too, they shouldn't be worried.

Shouldn't though didn't mean she wasn't.

It was odd to be in the solar again, and yet it was not as it had been. They were just visitors
now. Back in their world it had belonged to Jon, as King it had been his right, though she had
often occupied it as well. It was a power dynamic shift she would need to get used to, that
they no longer held that power. On her way to the dining hall earlier she'd walked past one of
the servants and it been odd to see they no longer answered to her as they once had, just as
the soldiers would no longer answer to Jon.

They had gone from ruling to being children again, it was strange and something they'd need
to get used to.

Sansa hadn't considered how it would be to be treated like a child again, to no longer be a
voice of power and authority in Winterfell. She hadn't considered how angry she would get at
her Mother in her treatment of Jon … hence their current position.

They had planned extensively about what would come in the future, what they needed to
focus on, but hadn't thought of any of the little things, foolish in hindsight, but they were here
now and would have to adapt.

A nudge to her knee made her realise she was drifting away with her thoughts as she
sometimes did (and Jon often broke her out of with a wry smile), and she quickly snapped
herself back to the present. She could lament on their lack of preparation later, for now she
needed to focus.

"Sansa, Jon" Her Father spoke, and his voice was deep, commanding, kind, Jon had inherited
some of that, the commanding tone that was still gentle enough to be respected but not
feared. It made people feel at ease and Jon had certainly inherited that too, it seemed to be a
male Stark trait, the ability to put people at ease with nothing more than a pat to the shoulder
or a soft word. Sansa knew it was only men who had inherited that, she certainly didn't have
that easy comfort giving skill, not anymore at least, and Arya had never had it. But there was
an edge to her Fathers tone this time, and she knew it was because of what had happened in
the hall.

"Do you want to tell me what happened back in the hall?" She heard that tone to his voice,
that edge, the one of concern but also the firmness that told her they needed to come up with
an answer and soon, and again she thought to herself, how the hell were they supposed to get
out of this? She resisted the urge to shoot Jon a panicked glance, that would only bring more
suspicion, she kept her gaze forward as her Father continued.

Despite the panic swirling in her she betrayed nothing, and one glance at Jon under her lashes
told her he didn't either, a good start.

"I'm pleased to see you getting along better, and though it warms me to see you being nicer to
your brother but Sansa?" He looked at her then and though Sansa had once been a Queen, in
front of her Fathers hard gaze she felt like a little girl again, she felt like her mind matched
her body for a moment, it was disconcerting. "Defying your mother like that? Speaking like
you did?" As he looked away from her to Jon, she gulped down some nerves, "And Jon, I've
never seen you act so … close with your sister"

Sansa knew he was being diplomatic with his words then and a shiver chased up Sansa's
spine.

"I'd like to know where these changes have come from, how they came about, explain" He
said his voice harder now, and Sansa again resisted the urge to look at Jon, and instead
opened her mouth to speak. It was only when she felt a hand squeeze her knee did she close
her mouth, she knew Jon was telling her to be quiet, and rather than argue back as she
normally would she just gave a small nod and kept quiet.

He had said he would handle it, and she believed he would, she was the better liar but not
here, not with her Father, Jon knew that.

"Lord Stark, Father" She heard Jon's little slip and she barely concealed a wince. She knew
this was strange to him, to see her Father in the chair that had once been his, to see Ice stood
in the corner whole once more, to not have Longclaw himself. To see the man who had raised
him but was not his true Father sat as Warden in the North, to have no King in the North as
their should be, it was difficult.

Difficult to see her Father and not feel a hint of resentment at hiding his parentage, secrets
kept for so long.

Secrets they had learned and weathered together and ultimately the truth had been for the
better.

The truth of Jons birth had led way to their feelings for one another and had allowed them to
marry, as cousins. Still, it was hard to process, that here and now her Father knew that and
kept it as a secret, didn't know Jon and Sansa knew.

"There is nothing to worry about Father" Jon said, a tight smile on his features that was
almost convincing, it didn't convince her but then she knew him too well, and Sansa had
become very good at reading people, months in the Vale with Littlefinger did that to people.
Still, it was convincing, as were his words as he ploughed on.

"Sansa and I have grown closer father, I've been privately tutoring her with her numbers, you
know she was struggled" Sansa near rolled her eyes at that, and shot him a glare, though she
did nod. It was a dull excuse but a believable one, in fact in their time he had tutored her on
the numbers she hated so much whilst she had drilled him on courtly etiquette, they had both
hated it and even shared their first kiss over one particularly frustrating lesson, but that was to
think on another time, for now she noticed her Father did not seem ready to let this go yet, as
believable as the excuse was.

"It's not that I don't believe you Jon, I do" He paused then and Sansa took a deep breath, here
it was, "It's just that the way you two were looking at one another, it's unusual" He said, and
her worry increased, had her Father caught on to the looks they shared, the familiarity
between them? Stupid of her, they had planned for this, had said they would ignore one
another more and distance themselves, but the ease between them could not be erased, they
had to be more careful, here they were siblings, not man and wife, they had to watch
themselves more and be vigilant.

"It just seems and feels as though something has changed between the two of you" Her Father
spoke again. She didn't want to argue with him, and she hadn't wanted to argue with her
Mother, but she had just felt so swept up … it was much more difficult than she had
anticipated to act like her 14 year old self; she had changed too much between then and her
20th nameday … more than she ever could have thought, it wasn't easy slipping back to how
she had been.

And it was harder still as part of her didn't want to slip back into that role. She had been a
foolish child, so caught up in songs and stupidity she hadn't seen the beauty of the North,
hadn't seen her place in Winterfell, she didn't want to be that stupid girl again, though she
may have to act like it.

"We're just closer Father, as siblings" Jon said then, but she saw him wince and she almost
did, for the way he felt about her, it was not as brother and sister, it never had been as brother
and sister, even at this age, they had never been siblings, nor acted like them. That was what
had allowed them to grow close as they had, in a different way. They had never treated one
another as siblings and so something else had been able to grow between them, in closeness
something else had flourished.

"Yes Father" Sansa agreed, nodded along with Jon, "It is like me and Robb" God she felt like
she might throw up at that thought, and she knew Jon would feel the same way. They were
not like her and Robb, Robb she loved as a brother, Jon she loved as a husband, but for now?
She had to act like they were the same or risk her Father prying further.

And they couldn't have that.

"It's just, as half siblings, you have to be careful not to seem too close" Her Father said then,
evidently choosing his words carefully, "The way you looked at one another, worryingly, it
reminded me of how Lady Stark and I are look at one another"

Lady Stark … Sansa frowned at that, from their time she had been Lady Stark, Jon Lord
Stark and then King and Queen. She was still a Lady now, but not really, she had no lands or
holds, no titles or responsibilities. Again, her eyes fell to her Fathers chair, there was that
shift in power dynamic again, here it was her Fathers chair, not Jon's, something she'd need to
get used to.

They had no power here, and though she didn't care about losing the titles, she knew it would
be a struggle not to be the Queen, to have that authority and decision making.

Of course, they'd known all of this when they'd started on this pathway … but it was very
different living it, than just planning it.

"And at your age, on the threshold of adulthood, it's difficult" Her Father continued, choosing
his words carefully, but Sansa understood his meaning, as did Jon, as he glanced at her with
worry. She understood her Father sensed something was different between them, something
he could not allow, under the pretext they were siblings, and Jon was a bastard … but of
course that wasn't actually the case, not that they could point that out of course, as to her
Father neither of them knew the truth.

Sansa mulled over how perceptive her father was, and how they could get around this… how
could they convince their Father they were the same as he remembered them? Siblings, frosty
with one another, not cousins, now deeply in love and used to being in love, a love so close it
shadowed all around it? When they had planned, this had been an afterthought, they had been
sure they wouldn't be spotted. Clearly, they should have spent more time on this, much more
time, as they had been noticed too easily.

Again, she felt bad at generalising in her mind to 'they', she had been the one to be caught,
not Jon. Put a knife in someone's back (metaphorically) and she'd do so without so much as a
hint to her plan, but acting neutral around Jon? When her Mother had derided him? Evidently
that she couldn't do.

She supposed she had to give herself some credit, she knew Jon wouldn't be so stoic if she
were threatened.

"Sansa, soon you'll be betrothed, we've had several enquiries about your hand" She snapped
out of her thoughts then, her eyes going wide, and she felt the squeeze of Jon's hand on her
knee, thankfully obscured by her Fathers desk. He wasn't trying to catch her attention, just
unhappy at the topic at hand, at the idea of her being married to another.

Which Sansa would never consent to, she was Jons, no none elses.

She remembered their words under the Heart Tree.

'I take this man'

'I take this woman'

Always.

"Harrion Karstark, Arthur Glenmore, Cley Cerywn, all options in the North, and then South,
many eligible Heirs to Lordships and Keeps, and then Prince Joffrey, you know how Robert
wishes to unite our houses" Sansa flinched at the last, though thankfully her Father hadn't
noticed, as he continued on.

"Any closeness with your siblings that isn't simply platonic … it's not right, and it's
dangerous. I'm not suggesting anything, just pointing out why one should be careful" He
finished.

Sansa knew he was suggesting something, indicating he had seen a closeness between them,
perhaps suspected more but for now was simply warning them, she wondered why he hadn't
responded with disgust, as most would if faced with incestuous children … but then he knew
Jon's truth, he knew they weren't siblings, perhaps that was why he was warning rather than
scolding them.

"Father" Jon spoke again for which Sansa was glad, she didn't want to open her mouth as she
felt she'd end up just end up loudly protesting the idea of any betrothal. They had changes to
make first before the subject of Prince Joffrey came up again, plans to make before the King
came and before her Father suggested any other marriage proposals.

Those things they had planned for, she would never marry anyone else. In her mind she was
already a woman wed, and her husband was sat next to her, holding onto her knee, evidently
keeping his own frustrations and feelings at bay… at least for the moment.
This they'd spoken about, about how in this world Sansa had been bugging her parents for
weeks about going South, had sworn off the Old Gods for the Seven, had been desperate to
meet the Prince and be Queen one day. They had laughed at the latter, how desperate she had
been to become Queen … and in their world she had been, just not in the way either could
have predicted. They had been sombre as they had discussed the situation in the South, of
where she'd be expected to go, but if there plans worked would never set foot in…not yet at
least.

"I will say no more" Her Father finished, stopping Jon in his tracks, "But I don't expect to see
the two of you ... interacting in this way again, now Sansa off to your lessons, Jon, you too"
And with that he dismissed them without another word, clearly he had more to think over, as
did they; they had a lot of thinking to do, a lot indeed.

Sansa had more to say, wanted to make her stance on a betrothal known now, but in this
instance she reeled herself back, she could not be controlled by her emotions, it was
weakness.

What had Cersei said to her? The woman she despised yes, but had learnt a great many
lessons from.

'Love no one but your children, on that front a Mother has no choice, any other love is a
weakness us women cannot afford'

She was right in that, there was a weakness to loving Jon, as evidenced by her outburst, but
their was a strength too and she'd happily weather the weaknesses for what Jon gave her.

She just had to be careful.

And so, she stood to her feet, Jon followed, and they left the solar, what had once been
there's. She did glance back just once, not to her Father but to something she'd spied on the
wall, that had been long gone by the time Jon had inherited this room.

It was a portrait of the Stark family, but not her siblings, her Fathers.

His Father, her Grandfather Rickard Stark stood in the middle, hand on the shoulder of who
had to be Brandon, Benjen hanging onto his brothers' hand. Then stood Lyanna, smiling
brightly next to Eddard, who was grinning at his little sister. These were the Starks that had
come before her, her Father, Grandfather and then Jon's Mother, all together.

She only got one last glance before the door swung shut behind them and Jon took her hand,
pulling her down the corridor to his room, quickly so they would not been seen, as she
followed him, their cloaks billowing out behind them, Ghost and Lady at their feet as they
hurried through the Winterfell corridors.

They had much to discuss.

Once they reached his room, Jon shut the door behind them, bolted it, and pushed a chair
against it for good measure. He hurried around to pull a curtain across the lone window,
checked his bathroom for anyone before turning back to Sansa, his Sansa.

As she was his, she would always be his, as he was hers, and he intended to keep it that way.

He'd barely kept it together in his Uncles solar when he had spoken of offer's to Sansa's hand,
and the possibility of her betrothal. Only years of experience of keeping calm and stoic
allowed him to keep his emotions in check when that subject had come up. It had been
difficult, and he knew he had squeezed her knee a bit too tightly, but it was that or lash out
and reveal their true position, and his feelings for whom he was supposed to view as his
sister.

But she wasn't his sister, never had been really, as they had never acted as such. When she
had found him at the Wall, and then back in Winterfell … the sibling bond had never been
there, and something else had been allowed to grow, something deeper than that of siblings,
something better, and from there it had spiralled.

He had fallen quickly, Sansa too, and they had never looked back.

He could still remember the first time she had fallen into his arms, it had been an
unremarkable day, like any other, and yet when she had come to his room that night, the
Lord's chambers (as she insisted he should have), he had been prepared for their usual
routine, the usual back and forth chat, and then settling into bed, side by side (never mind the
whispers), to simply hold hands as they drifted to sleep - for neither could sleep without
nightmares without one another close, it was easier, comfortable, but that night had differed
in that.

In more ways than one…

"I love you Jon" Her voice was soft, but with the edge that had crept in ever since they had
been reunited, an edge that spoke of her hardship. Part of him wished he could take it away,
the other understood it, and simply promised himself he'd never let her voice grow any colder.

Another part of him was proud of her, proud she had endured what she had and come out
stronger, but still he would not let her voice darken anymore.

"As I love you" And then he had leaned forward to kiss her forehead, as he always did, but in
the dark, his lips instead had brushed her nose, she giggled in response, and he too had
laughed, before realising how close they were, how her hand had come to rest in his hair,
tangled in his curls, how his hand was on her cheek, his thumb smoothing back and forth
over her delicate skin.

"Jon…" But before she could say another word, he had leaned down, to brush his lips against
hers, like the lightest flutter of a butterfly's wing, before pulling back, worried he had
overstepped … until she had pushed forward, her lips harder against his, soft still but with
intent, and from there … it had been perfect.

Afterward, when they had been lying in a tangle of sheets, her cheeks flushed red, the
bloodstains on the sheets ignored, his chest heaving, a thin layer of sweat over their both
 their bodies, she had spoken, grinning from ear to ear in a way of such abandon he hadn't
seen in a while, "I wondered when you'd finally kiss me"

He laughed in response, and rolled back on top of her, and pulled her lips to his once again.

"I love you" She said as they lay down to rest after the second time and he kissed her again,
this time on the lips.

"I love you too" He said, and they fell asleep in one another's arms, that night and every
night after. Never to be parted again.

And he wasn't about to let that change.

His mind focused back on the present then and he moved forward, to Sansa, needing her in
his arms then, held her close for just a moment where she willingly went, clearly needing the
same thing. He clutched her tight, but she voiced no complaint and only gripped at him.

It had been a trying morning, a lot on both of them and they needed this, they needed this
moment, a moment to just be with one another, to allow the tension to fade, the stress to go
away. She needed to hold him, to know he was here with her, and he needed to hold her, to
know she was his, always.

'I take this man'

'I take this woman'

They had said, and they would honour it.

"You are mine, and I am yours" He said into her fire-red hair, the hair he loved so much, the
hair that had the wildlings and eventually the Northmen call her 'kissed by fire'.

"Mine and yours" He repeated. She didn't reply with words, but a nod into his chest, before
bringing her lips to his, a kiss that they both desperately needed, and melted into. A sigh of
relief left his lips and a pleased sigh left hers as they sank into the kiss, as they let the
pleasure of an embrace take them for a few moments.

He broke free after a few moments, but only to rest his forehead against hers, as she did his,
he tipped his down and she leaned up, as they did not move, his hands to her waist, hers on
his chest. He could stay like this forever.

"I am yours and you are mine" She said and the simple unpanicked tone to her voice calmed
him, calmed him more than anything, though he did not let her go, he just nodded against her,
where they stayed for too long really, and yet neither could pull away, neither wanted to pull
away, not ever.

"Mine and yours"

Chapter End Notes

pure jon and sansa, they are so in love, but it won't be easy going for them...

let me know watcha thought

speak soon
 The Corridors
Chapter Notes

authorsnote: editing this in 2023 is making me hype to write it again

I will update more often (solemn vow)

songrecs: I can't pretend - tom odell

See the end of the chapter for more notes

'There is no shame in fear, my Father told me, what matters is how we face it'

- Jon Snow to Samwell Tarly

-x-

As much as Sansa wished to remain in Jon's arm for a lot longer, she knew that soon their
absences from their lessons would be noted, and they could not afford anymore suspicion
upon them now. And so, reluctantly she pulled away from Jon and pulled a face that made
him laugh as they both pulled back. She didn't want to leave him, but she knew they needed
to go about their days, convince everyone that everything was normal and chiefly convince
her Father there was nothing to worry about.

And so, she stepped away from him. Jon gave her a small smile at her displeased expression
before placing a gentle kiss to her forehead. She let out a sigh as his lips contacted her skin
and smiled to herself. They both had their days to be getting on with now, as much as she
wished they could just hide away together for a little while.

For a moment Sansa's mind drifted away as she thought over the meeting in her Fathers solar,
just minutes earlier. They had both agreed when embarking on this plan, that if it succeeded,
they wouldn't tell anyone in this time about the future, or where they had come from and how
they'd done so. For a moment she doubted whether they had been right; should they have told
her Father what they knew? Try to get him to help?

In the future she and Jon were powerful, rulers of the North with influence and power, but
now? Now they were just children. For a moment she felt so small, so insignificant…

A Queen no longer.

They had come back to change things, but how could they possibly do that in their current
positions?
"Sansa?" Jon's voice broke her out of her worrying and she smiled at him in an attempt to
reassure him, but Jon knew her better than that, and he shot her look that meant she hadn't
fooled him, not a bit. With a small sigh, she relayed her worries to him.

"Do you think we should have told my Father?" She asked, her voice dropping to a whisper
as she stepped closer to Jon, to ensure if anyone walked past or appeared, they would not be
overheard, "Enlisted his help perhaps?"

Jon raised an eyebrow in surprise at her line of thought, but his expression turned more
neutral as he mulled it over before shaking his head.

"Even in the rare event he would have believed us … it would complicate things, set off
events we're not ready for yet. Plus, I doubt he would believe us, probably thought us insane,
lackwit or ill, we couldn't risk that, you know that, we talked about this before"

"I know" Sansa said with a nod, after all they had discussed this at length back in their
timeline, going back and forth over whether they should tell anyone, "I just feel like it's going
to be so hard Jon" She bit down on her lip then, to pause before continuing, "We're not King
and Queen here"

A Queen no more.

With that Jon pulled her into another hug, which she wanted to resist; she was far too reliant
on his comfort and that would be far too suspicious here. And yet she couldn't help but melt
into his embrace, it had been a hard morning, and she knew things were not going to get any
easier. And so, though she knew she needed to not seek her husbands embrace quite as much
she couldn't resist for the moment.

Just for a moment.

"No, but we can still make change, we made plans, we can do this" Jon replied into her hair,
and she nodded, he was right.

She was just scared, she wasn't afraid to admit that, she felt it was right to be scared, they had
so much to do and very little time to do so, but they had made plans, smart plans, and if they
pulled them off then things would be better for the Stark family.

"We can do this Sansa" Jon confirmed, and again she nodded before pulling away from him.

"Okay" Sansa said then, stepping back once more, her fears a little alleviated; they had big
changes to make yes, but she was sure they could do it … together.

They may not be the King and Queen here, but they had their skills. Jon had become one of
the best swordsmen in the known world, she had tutored under Littlefinger and as awful as
Baelish had been and she had not mourned his death he had taught her a lot, same as Cersei,
also dead in their timeline but had imparted some wisdom to Sansa. They were both smart,
beyond their years and they knew what was to come. They may not have any power here, but
they had their talents, that would have to be enough.
"Now come " Jon said with a small smile, "We'll just settle in today aye? And we'll worry
about the future tomorrow" With that Sansa did feel reassured, they had to just take it one day
at a time, and today was about reuniting with their family, today was about settling into this
new reality, and coming to terms with it all. That she could do, that she wanted to do.

"Alright" Sansa said, a small smile appearing on her own features then, "I best be going then"
She said, though she didn't move for a moment, instead she just adjusted Jon's cloak around
her shoulders, she didn't care what her Mother said, she wasn't removing it. This would be
her comfort throughout the day when Jon was not with her, and she was not giving that up.
"I'll see you later?"

"Of course," Jon said with a grin, leaning in quickly for a chaste kiss, but unwilling to risk
anymore in case anyone was watching. Still, Sansa melted into it with a smile before pulling
back and composing herself.

"I love you" Sansa said, aware her voice was a little quiet … for she was nervous, how could
she not be? Littlefinger and Cersei had often taught her that fear was a weakness, but she
disagreed, fear could be utilised, and she planned to do just that, she would use her fear to
spur her actions, to remind her of the important work they had to do, to remind her not to slip
up.

"As I do you" Jon said in response, "Now it's time for us to go, I'll see you at lunch, and
dinner, and then I'll come to your room tonight, alright?" At that she felt reassured and
nodded, and with a deep breath, she found the strength to move on, and make her way out of
her bedroom and through the corridors.

If she remembered correctly, she was due with Septa Mordane that morning, the lessons
would be useless to her now, but she could make some positive changes during the lessons,
and with that thought (and one last look at her room, from which Jon emerged, shot her a
smile and then hurried in the opposite direction), she made her way forward, she could do
this.

But as she hurried down the corridor, the cloak around her shoulders a great comfort to her,
she failed to notice the shadowy figure stood in the small alcove by her room door …

Her Father, who had heard every word between the supposed siblings and who's look of
horror did not fade as she hurried away. She did not see such a look, nor did she see him
hurry back to his solar, at double speed.

That was going to be a problem.

Jon wished he didn't have to go to his lessons. Once he had begged to go, Lord Stark had
stood his ground against Lady Stark and had insisted Jon be allowed to attend Robb's lessons
with him and he had been over the moon at the time. But now? Now he wished to have more
free time, he would hardly learn anything new from the lessons.

Still, it would be good to spend some time with Robb and it was important to go about their
usual routines to stop any suspicions. And so, once he reached the door to the classroom he
only paused for a minute before slipping inside.

He entered the room and worked to keep a scowl off of his features. He had forgotten that
Theon attended these lessons. He didn't dislike Theon for what he had done in the future, the
man had more than made up for his wrong doings and had been honoured for his heroism in
their future, but the Theon he was facing now? Ugh, he had been insufferable, and Jon was
not likely to take his insults and barbs on the chin now, though looking through the eyes of a
boy he was a man now, he would take no disrespect here.

"Ahh Jon" Maester Luwin smiled as Jon hurried inside, "Please have a seat" He said with a
nod and Jon took a place to Robb's right, Theon sat on his cousins left. Jon shot the Maester a
smile as he continued on, he had always liked the man. Their Maester in the future had been
good, but he could never have compared to Luwin.

"Everything okay brother?" Robb said in a hushed tone as Luwin began to give an overview
of political alliances in the North (something Jon knew almost too much about, Sansa's
doing). He flinched a little at Robb's words; 'brother' it saddened him to know they weren't
brothers, never had been, though Jon did consider him one if not in blood, in spirit, and he
hoped if Robb ever learned the truth of his parentage, he would feel the same way.

He remembered when he had found out himself, been so worried the remaining Starks would
turn their back on him. Of course, they hadn't, they had accepted him and treated him the
same … except Sansa of course, though her change in attitude had led to something much
different and the happy marriage they were in now.

"Fine" Jon said in response, he did smile as he looked at Robb, he had missed him greatly. He
had wished in the past to go to his side when he had heard he had called the banners, but his
other brothers had bought him back to the Wall. He knew if he had done as such, he likely
would have died at the Twins too, and then who would have stopped the army of the dead?
Still, it was good to see him again, alive, and well and a boy once more.

"Hmm" Luwin hummed, interrupting the boy's whispered conversation with a raised
eyebrows and a slightly disapproving expression, "Boys try to follow along, Jon, tell me the
current head of House Glover, and the minor houses sworn to him, if you'd been listening,
you'd know" He seemed almost amused, and Jon near rolled his eyes. He had never
massively enjoyed politics, but he knew it well, Sansa had seen to that.

"Current head is Lord Galbert Glover, minor houses sworn are Houses Woods, Branch and
Bole" Jon replied with a nod. Sansa had drilled this information into him night after night
once he had been crowned as King in the North. He had become adept at looking at house
loyalties and using them when necessary. Sure, he was better at fighting, Sansa was better at
the deception and lies of politics, but he was good too, better at diplomacy and that
knowledge was all still in his head.

"Very good Jon" Maester Luwin said in slight surprise, and Jon saw Robb's look of surprise
mirror the Maesters. Theon looked irritated and shot him a glare, to which Jon readily held
his gaze for a change, to which Theon dropped his in surprise. Jon had meant what he'd
thought, he wouldn't let Theon intimidate or harass him.
He did acknowledge he had to be careful here though, very careful, he couldn't give away too
much about how he had changed, his knowledge or his skills. Still, he knew in the training
yard he wouldn't dampen down his skills too much, especially if he was faced against Theon
in a sparring match. In the future he may have forgiven the him, but he felt Theon could use
some sense knocked into him now, rather than waiting for the cut of a Bolton's knife to do so.

"Nice one Jon" Robb muttered under his breath, and Jon couldn't help but smile at his cousin,
he really had missed him, he had missed him as a friend, a voice of reason, and as a brother,
Jon still considered him one, and always would, regardless of his parentage.

"I missed you, you know" Jon couldn't help but say, as Robb turned to him with a smile and a
roll of his eyes, though he did look pleased.

"You saw me yesterday you softie" He replied to which Jon couldn't help but laugh, setting
Robb off too, which got them both a glare from Maester Luwin.

At that they both settled down, though still smiling, and Jon couldn't help but feel a little bit
happier, it did feel good to be back, despite the problems, and the worries (and the fact he
knew Sansa would micromanage everything to death until he'd be forced to kiss her to stop
her worrying), it was all worth it, that was all he had to keep telling himself when things got
hard; it was all worth it.

Sansa was worrying of course, as she hurried down the corridors to the Septa's teaching
room. She gave a hurried apology as she walked in and moved to sit not in her usual seat but
next to Arya instead. Her relationship with her sister had been better in the future, closer, but
it had gone through unnecessary strife before then which she hoped to avoid now. She would
do better at understanding Arya now, at treating her kindly, and now seemed like the perfect
opportunity to do so.

And so, for a moment she tried to put her worries out of her mind, to ignore them and focus
on the now. One look at Arya did help, as she watched her little sister struggle with her
stitches. She was reminded that this was what they had come back for, this was why they had
come back: for family, for the pack.

She didn't want to miss being back with her loved ones by being constantly anxious and
spending all of her time planning and fussing. She needed to enjoy being with them again, or
else why bother?

Picking up her sewing supplies, Sansa ignored Jeyne trying to call her over, and instead
quickly began to thread, the sooner she got it finished, the sooner it would be done. She
remembered when sewing, dancing, playing the lute had all been so important to her, but
now? Now they were useful in other regards, but not those the Septa intended.

Sewing was useful for sewing leather onto armour stitching a wound on the battlefield or
embroidering the direwolf on her dress for a war council. The lute could be used to calm a
dying man or bring comfort to those marching into battle. Dancing was good for distraction
on a night of celebration or a gentle exercise for ladies trapped in the castle as men went off
to fight. They had their uses, but she now saw little point in sewing pretty flowers and
tapestries (except perhaps for the joy of it). Sure, she still found some enjoyment in sewing
her own dresses and gowns, but this? This seemed pointless.

Her fingers were quick now, but clumsier than they had been, thanks to her younger body and
hands. She was still fast, stitching the house sigil, the direwolf of the Starks onto her plain
background efficiently and with ease. The only real time in the future Sansa had tried to keep
her sewing 'pretty' had been when stitching Jon's clothes or her own, or when she'd had a rare
chunk of time just to enjoy embroidering one of her own dresses, though those moments had
become few and far between, and pretty fell way to practical.

"Oh Arya" She heard the Septa say and Sansa stiffened slightly, "Awful work child, why can't
you get this right?" The Septa admonished and Sansa found herself rolling her eyes in
response… at least wishing to.

"She will Septa" Sansa replied, her tone making it evidently clear how annoyed she was at
the woman's words but still polite as punch, "Give her time" She said simply, she missed the
look of shock on Arya's face, and the looks of surprise the other girls gave her.

"Lady Sansa, your own needlework today is rougher than usual, but still a sight better than
your sisters! Please do not intercede when I am trying to teach" the Septa said, she too
surprised but more annoyed at Sansa's uncharacteristic interruption.

"I will intercede if I think you're being unfair Septa" Sansa shot back, knowing she could
balance the fine line between standing up for her sister and not giving herself away, again.
Apparently, Jon wasn't her only risk of becoming emotional. Still, she tempered herself,
adopted the smile she'd used when needing to be neutral as Queen, and spoke.

"Arya will get it in her own time and is vastly more skilled than all of us in many other
pursuits" She said with a nod.

"Sansa, what are you doing!" Jeyne said across the room, her face incredulous to what Sansa
was saying, "No need to stick up for Arya horse face!"

Sansa felt her temper flare then, as well as a spike of guilt stabbing at her. She had used that
nickname against her own little sister, and she felt awful for it in hindsight, why had she been
so cruel? So desperate to fit in with the other girls and distance herself from her admittedly
unruly sister? Well, no more, that would change, starting now.

She had promised herself she would do better by Arya and do better she would as she rose to
her feet, and sent a chilling glare towards Jeyne Poole.

Sansa still liked the girl, new the horrors Jeyne had endured with Ramsey Bolton, when she
had been sold as a makeshift for Arya, but she would not tolerate this against Arya, felt that
stab of guilt again that she had ever contributed to it.

"Don't you dare speak of my sister like that again Jeyne" Sansa said coldly, as she glanced
down at Arya, who still looked in shock at her sister's change of attitude, "How dare you
presume to insult her, she is a member of the ruling house of the North, of your Liege Lord"
There was some of the Sansa most of them remembered, the snob obsessed with status, "If I
hear you insulting her again I will see it as an insult to House Stark, and then my Father will
be forced to get involved" She said "Do you understand?"

At that Jeyne and the rest of the girls nodded, Septa Mordane seemed shocked and went to
hurry out of the room, mumbling about finding Lady Catelyn, but Sansa sat herself back
down and turned to her little sister who still looked surprised, and perhaps a little teary eyed
now, which again made Sansa feel awful, she should have always stuck up for her like this,
and she would now.

Sansa would not fail her again.

"If any of them speak to you in such a way again, come straight to me, okay?" Sansa said, her
voice far gentler as she spoke to Arya, and got a good look at her for the first time. Here was
her innocent little sister, obsessed with sword fighting and acting like a little boy. Gone was
the cold assassin with her long, long list. Sansa would do everything she could to keep her as
the innocent child, for as long as possible.

"Thanks Sansa" Arya replied with a small smile, and Sansa nodded, reaching up to stroke her
hand over her little sisters' hair before glancing at her needlework.

"Your stitching really is dreadful Arya" She said with a small smile, a little laugh leaving her
lips which Arya caught onto. Once they stopped Sansa spoke again, "Why don't you try to
stitch our sigil instead of some silly flowers?" She asked with an encouraging nod and smile,
"Hmm? Our sigil is something to be proud of, put work into it, really try and then you can be
proud of stitching our great house sigil, the sigil of our ancestors"

"Okay" Arya said in response; Sansa knew her little sister would never love stitching but as
she grabbed new supplies and began to work, she seemed to be trying hard. Her hands were
steady, her expression determined, and Sansa smiled as she went back to her own work.

This is why they'd come back, to help their family, to keep the Starks together and happy.
Sansa felt good about helping Arya, she also felt a little better, and hoped she could foster a
closeness between them, she certainly would try, and as Arya saw her watching and grinned
at her, Sansa smiled back with happiness. Yes, she wanted to be close to Arya this time
around. After all, they had come back for one main reason: family.

'Family, duty, honour' Her mothers' words, and they were right, family came first.

The lone wolf dies but the pack survives.

Words from both her houses, words to live by.

The day moved slowly from there on with little incident. Jon and Robb happily chatted away
over lunch, and Sansa was happy to leave them be, shooting Jon a smile before settling in
next to Rickon and taking over his feeding, which her mother accepted gratefully.

She didn't complain as Rickon splatted mashed potatoes over the table, staining her dress,
only laughed, and then tickled him before encouraging him to eat his carrots. She was quick
with her own lunch before moving onto lemon cakes, they were still her favourite and hard to
come by in the future, so she felt she could indulge herself.

Lessons in the afternoon dragged on equally, but thankfully she sat was able to sit in between
Bran and Arya as Maester Luwin talked them through the noble houses of the North and their
importance. Sansa already well informed on the topic (obviously) was happy to help her
siblings, and the smiles on their faces and the Maesters by the time they broke for dinner had
her smiling too.

A hard start to the day had been passed, and the rest of the day had been much better, not just
for her, but for Jon too.

Jon had spent the afternoon sparring, and though it had been difficult to reel back his skills
and try to ignore instincts he had honed over years, he had found his physical body needed to
catch up to allow him to pull off some of the moves he had learnt over the years.

And so, bar the odd sparring session (in which yes, he did beat both Theon and Robb with
ease), Jon focused instead on the physical activities that would bring his strength and muscle
back, weights, drills and push ups were his preferred activities as Master Rodrick oversaw
sparring between Theon and Robb. He was determined to get his strength back; he would
need it in the fights to come.

For both of them it had been an odd start to the day but had gotten better as they went
through it. As dinner came they both sat apart again (though shot each other more than a few
glances), Sansa sat with Arya and Bran, happily listening to their stories about their recent
races against one another, and who was faster (both insisted they were, and Sansa couldn't
help but laugh at their outraged faces as she refused to pick a side), Jon sat with Robb,
soaking up all the lost time with his brother in all things but blood, the two happily chatting
away about sparring techniques, which in truth Jon didn't need to learn about, but was just
happy to have Robb back.

Neither of them noticed, through lunch or dinner that Lord Stark was noticeably quiet, and
brushed off his wife's concerns, insisted he was thinking over economic reports from the
North. Neither of them even thought to suspect something as he watched them shoot one
another glances and smiles, and neither of them thought anything of walking out together,
walking closer than usual (though Arya certainly noticed, and seemed happy as anything that
her siblings were closer, and soaked up all the attention Jon gave her).

Certainly, neither of them suspected they were being watched as Jon snuck into Sansa's room
later that night to spend time with his wife.

Neither suspected, foolish of them.

Jon had walked through the corridors silently, leaving his weapons belt in his room, wearing
minimal armour and light boots to mask his tread as he hurried over to Sansa's bedroom. His
footsteps were quiet as he made his way to her bedroom, slipped inside, and shut the door
behind him without making a sound.
Ghost had followed him but happily settled beside a sleeping Lady as he walked inside. It
was later than he'd hoped, but he'd stayed up later chatting to Robb, unable to tear himself
away from being able to simply talk to his best friend again.

And so, he was later than intended, but smiled as he found Sansa still awake, sat on her bed
in her nightgown, brushing her hair. She grinned at him as he slipped inside, and then walked
around to sit next to her on the bed. Though they weren't sitting for long as Sansa pulled him
down to lie down next to her instead.

He arranged them into a comfortable position, he on his back an arm beneath his head, his
outer armour shed to leave him in breeches and a simple undershirt, Sansa on her side with
her head on his chest, in just a nightgown, her long hair tickling his neck as she cuddled into
him.

"I missed you" He said simply, breaking the silence to which she grinned into his skin and he
pressed a kiss to her hair.

"I missed you too" She said simply, placing her chin on his chest so she could look at him
with a smile, "But it was good to see everyone again, to spend time with them, I had
forgotten over our months of work just how much I missed them"

"Aye, me too" Jon responded, his smile matching hers now as he thought back on the day. It
had started tense, and yet they were both happy as it came to an end.

It had been a much-needed day with family, a day of being reunited and spending time with
their loved ones. They may have plans and such they needed to focus on soon but one day
with their family had been needed.

"Still, I did want to see you all day, it feels weird since back during our time we'd spend most
of the day attached at the hip" Sansa said with a little laugh to which he nodded, it was true, it
was a little joke around Winterfell that the King was rarely seen without the Queen by his
side.

"It does" Jon said, "But I'm happy to be with you now, with you in my arms" He said, and he
saw the blush pool across her cheeks, her pale skin lighting up pink, which clashed
delightfully with her hair, which he always loved. He loved making her blush, seeing the pink
spread across her cheeks and nose, seeing the secret little embarrassed smile she did when he
was able to elicit such a reaction from her, it always made him smile in a way that otherwise
remained hidden.

He loved her smile, and her blush, and her hair, 'Kissed by fire' The freefolk called her, she
was the one instance in which he preferred fire to ice.

"God, Jon, I can't believe we did it" Sansa said with a grin, turning back to lie on her side
once more, to pull him close to her, body to body, not an inch between them, which Jon
welcomed as he pressed his lips to her hair again, and held her close.

"Me either" He said simply, for it was true; it was nigh on unbelievable, and yet they'd done
it, they'd managed it, against all odds and known truths in their world, they had done it,
 achieved the impossible, and here they were now.

Together.

...

"Did what?" As soon as he heard the foreign voice, he didn't even register who it was, instead
he was up quickly, in front of Sansa who screamed in response to the stranger having entered
her room. He was up, looking for a nearby weapon, anything he could use against the
intruder, until he looked up at the figure in front of him, the candlelight casting a shadow
over him as he looked down at them both, his expression one of both anger and confusion.

"Father" Sansa said, her eyes widening as she realised, he had managed to slip inside without
either of them noticing, they'd been too focused on one another. Jon couldn't believe he'd let
his guard down so easily, so foolish, so stupid, and now they'd been caught red handed, how
on earth did they explain this?!

"I heard you this morning" Eddard Stark spoke, and he heard Sansa gasp, her hands go over
her mouth as she turned her gaze to him, her expression frantic. Jon in contrast let out a deep
sigh, and a shake of his head, damn.

Lord Stark was here in front of them, he had heard them this morning and presumably their
conversation now. He had heard them talk about a future he didn't know about, had heard
them talk to each other in the way they did, had heard their declarations of love. Good god,
he'd heard them call themselves King and Queen.

Fuck.

They were fucked, well and truly fucked. Likely Lord Stark now thought they were insane,
crazed, and Jon had no idea how they talked themselves out of this. They'd barely talked
themselves out of trouble this morning!

Lord Stark was a man who could easily see lies in his children, and Jon turned to look at
Sansa with an expression of worry, what did they do here? What was the move here?

Jon, usually so able to work out situations and the best way to resolve them, now his face was
alight with worry, with surprise, and it was clear he had no idea what to do. Sansa still had
her hands clapped over her mouth and was looking at Jon desperately for an answer.

They were both at a loss.

"So, tell me, tell me what you did, tell me what you mean by 'your time', and tell me why you
think you need to save us all" Lord Stark said, less angry but clearly confused, and Jon let out
a deep sigh then. How in the world did they explain all of this?

Chapter End Notes

dum dum dummmmmmm

gods I love a cliffhanger

read on...
 The Heart Tree
Chapter Notes

damn I suck at updating, but my 2023 aim is to have everything updated AT LEAST
once every 2 months, a tall order with 20+ WIPs but one I will try.

do enjoy

songrecs: ashley - halsy (manic is a phenomenal album, 10/10 recommend)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

'Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her. I am a bastard too now, just like him.
Oh, it would be so sweet to see him once again. But of course that could never be. Alayne
Stone had no brothers, baseborn nor otherwise'

- Sansa Stark (Alayne Stone) thoughts.

-x-

How did they explain this? How did one explain they had come from the future, spent almost
a year searching for a way back, had somehow found it and retained their memories against
all odds? How did they explain that in the future they ruled the North, side by side as man
and wife, rather than the siblings everyone currently believed them to be? How did they
explain that they knew everything, knew what had happened in the past and what was to
come next?

He had no idea.

He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out, words failed him. Jon was usually
good at making plans, had been a natural strategist from the moment he had tried, but now,
stood in Sansa's childhood bedroom, as she was frozen in horror behind him, facing down her
Father, his Uncle and the man who knew something was wrong … he had no words to say, no
excuse.

He could think of nothing, and as he glanced at his wife, he could see she had nothing either.

Nothing.

"I…" He started but was interrupted by a voice in the hall.

"Ned?" He had never been so pleased to hear Lady Stark's voice, and almost collapsed with
relief that perhaps they had been given a reprieve. He watched as Lord Stark debated what to
do, his eyes flickering to the corridor and then back to him and Sansa.
Jon was worried for a moment, that he'd continue pushing, only for Lady Catelyn to join the
mix. He did not want Sansa's Mother seeing them in this state, she already hated him, he was
sure if she thought he'd been in her daughters' bed she might actually kill him.

Lord Stark seemed to realise that as well and let out a frustrated sigh before looking hard at
them both.

"My solar, tomorrow morning before breakfast, we'll eat there, you will explain everything to
me" Jon nodded hastily then, anything to get rid of him so they could talk. "Jon go back to
your rooms when we're gone" And at that he shot them both another hard look before turning
away, to head off his wife.

Once he heard the footsteps down the hall, he ran forward and closed the door quietly, before
bolting it from the inside, and stacking a chair against it for good measure. Only when he was
satisfied that no one would get in now did he turn back to Sansa, who was now pacing in
panic, fisting great handfuls of her fiery hair, breathing heavily, clearly distressed.

"Oh gods" She moaned, and he could nod in agreement, what did they do now? "Jon!" She
looked horrified, and he knew his expression mirrored hers. He didn't pace though, only sat
himself on her bed and leaned forwards, elbows on his knees, he didn't want to pace, he
needed to be still for a minute, to think.

"Why didn't you see him come in after you?" She said furiously then, turning her panic on
him, to which he glared at her.

For all the love they had for one another they could argue like nobody else. Of course, they
always made up, and nothing ever lasted beyond a few hours, but hell, they could go at it
when a situation demanded it.

"It's your bloody room!" He fired back and then he was on his feet too, pacing with her,
stillness was not working, clearly, "How did you not realise?" He said and Sansa glared at
him furiously, pacing and pacing.

At that Jon signed and moved forward to grab her hands, to stop her, it would do no good to
fight, they needed to work together here, if they had any hope of surviving come morning,
they could not argue amongst themselves.

He had no idea what would happen, what excuse they could give, he just knew they could not
tell Lord Stark the truth, he wouldn't believe it, not for one bit, he would think them mad,
perhaps send him to the Quiet Isle and Sansa to the Septas, convinced their brains were
addled.

And so, they needed an excuse, a good one at that.

Jon wasn't stupid, Lord Stark had found them in bed together, had heard the words of love
they exchanged, he was surprised he had left them alone, though perhaps he knew if Lady
Catelyn had seen them, she might kill his nephew.
However, come morning Jon knew Lord Stark would need answers as to why they were
cuddling like lovers when everyone thought they were siblings, and would expect good
answers.

He knew he was already at risk of being sent away, his Uncle would do it if he thought he had
a relationship with Sansa, he couldn't let that happen.

They had to come up with a reason for their actions, for their words, and it needed to be a
good one, one that meant they weren't torn apart.

He just had no idea what that could be.

"What do we do Jon?" Sansa said as she clutched at his hands, argument forgotten as they
both looked at one another in desperation. They had to come up with a plan, a good plan.

Minutes passed and neither said anything.

They only held onto one another, looked at one another wracking their brains, thinking, and
planning, trying to think of any good excuse for their behaviour that Lord Stark would
believe and accept. The seconds ticked on, strained, and he could see a tear making its way
down Sansa's cheek, she was having the same worries as him it seemed. He lifted his hand to
brush it away, and she grabbed his hand to hold against her cheek as another tear fell.

"You can't be sent away" She said in a whispered tone, her gaze meeting his again, eyes filled
with unshed tears. "You can't"

She shook her head, and he pulled her closer, pressing his forehead to hers, his eyes sliding
shut as hers did. They took a second, in holding one another in comfort, he took a second to
take a deep breath as he held onto her, to Sansa, to his wife.

He loved her, he had before he had even realised it, and he remembered he had been the first
to say it, in a romantic context, to say those three words that had ensured a life of happiness
for him, as no matter what life threw at him, he loved her and she loved him.

'It has been a long day' He groaned and settled himself in front of the fire, in the Lords
chambers that were his now, that he shared with Sansa, his wife.

He had never thought he would marry her, but they had grown closer since the revelation of
his birth, closer and closer until they could not hold back anymore.

It made sense as well, they ruled the North well together, and they had both wanted to
continue doing that. Sansa had the Stark name that legitimised their rule, and Jon was a
beloved King already, and so the union made sense, the fact they had already made love, had
already decided they wanted no one else … that had just been a bonus before the wedding.

'I know' She said with a nod, settling down in the chair opposite, 'Honestly you'd think
Northern men would realise their armour was without leather, but apparently not' She shook
her head, 'Scolding blacksmiths three times my age feels strange" She laughed, and he did
with her.
'Imagine me lecturing the men who taught me sword fighting' He said with a shake of his
head and she giggled too.

She looked so beautiful when she laughed, her face lighting up, the hardness that had settled
in her gaze disappearing for a few moments as she looked innocent and sweet again. Of
course, to Jon she was always sweet, but the giggling made her all the sweeter.

'I'm so tired' She said with a moan and with that he walked over to her chair and scooped her
up, laughing at her delightful little squeal.

They made love, as they did most nights, it felt as natural as breathing to them, and after, as
Sansa rested her head on his chest, and he held her close did he feel himself drifting off that
the words simply slipped from his lips, unbidden, unprompted, without thought or anxiety,
they just fell.

'I love you' He said with a smile, and almost rolled his eyes at her response.

'I love you too' She said, and he realised she hadn't picked up on how he meant it now.

'No' He looked down at her then, 'I said it before as family, now I say I love you, as my wife, I
am in love with you Sansa' If he were a blusher no doubt he'd be red, but instead his eyes had
taken on that intense expression and he held his breath as he looked down at her, awaiting a
response.

'Oh Jon' She was whispering now, and she was smiling so wide he thought her cheeks must
hurt, 'I love you too, I'm in love with you with everything I have' She leaned up to kiss him
and he pulled her closer, holding her tight.

'Now and always' He whispered against her lips, before pulling her to him again, and as she
moved on top of him, as she bought them both a deep pleasure, he heard her say those words
back.

'Now and always'

They loved one another, they were man and wife, and as he thought of that his eyes snapped
open, and he knew the answer.

"I know what we have to do" He said, and he was emboldened by Sansa's look at him, one
filled with trust, with hope, and with an utter devotion that she believed in him to fix this for
them. He knew she believed in him, as he believed in her, as he had fixed her in the past and
she had fixed him.

They fixed one another, over and over again.

"You trust me" He didn't ask, just said it as a statement and she nodded, and at that he
grabbed his cloak, threw it over her shoulders, and then pulled his own tunic back on before
pulling on his boots and encouraging her to do the same. Once they were semi-dressed, she in
her shift but covered by his dark cloak, he in breeches and a light tunic, both with boots on
their feet did he take her hand and make for the door, the direwolves followed and Jon
quickly unbolted the door.

"Jon" She did pause, at the doorway, eyes wide with apprehension, "Where are we going?"

"Do you trust me?" It was a question then, and she didn't hesitate, nodding again, and so he
nodded his head and moved forward.

"Then follow me" And she did, without question, for they trusted one another, loved one
another, now and always.

Sansa did trust Jon, with everything, with her life, and so she followed, trusting him in when
he simply asked her to follow.

She followed him quietly through the halls, out into the courtyard (and resisted the urge to
complain that he could have at least let her throw on a dress), and then she realised where he
was taking them.

The Godswood was just as she remembered it, and just as they had left it before it had
burned, minus the thick snow on the ground and icicles on the leaves.

Here, the ground was still dirt, though more brown than green, with no snow on top of it. The
Heart Tree was still dominant, imposing over her, and she wondered if the Gods were
watching.

As a child she had shunned the old gods, seeking solace in the Seven, during her time in
Kings Landing she had turned back to her Fathers gods, desperately hoping for their help,
once back in Winterfell she had ignored them all, Gods had been of no use to her up until
then, and prayer had been pointless.

Of course, now she knew there was something there, some kind of Gods, and she bowed her
head in respect.

The Godswood was still a beautiful place, but she didn't think Jon had hurried her through
Winterfell in the dead of night, when they had much more pressing concerns just to bring her
to a pretty place.

"What are we doing here Jon?" She asked as he came to a stop just under the Heart Tree,
turned to her and took both of her hands in his. She did smile at him as he looked at her
before feeling just a hint of panic again, she wouldn't let anyone send him away, she
wouldn't.

Jon was everything to her, and as much as she loved her family, she loved Jon more. He was
her soulmate, the other half of her heart, her true love. She would not let anything happen to
him, nor let them be torn apart.

And so, as much as she did trust Jon, she wasn't sure what his plan was here. They needed to
be thinking up excuses and stories! Not catching a chill in the night.
"We're going to marry" Well, she had often commented she enjoyed Jon's honesty, how blunt
he could be, though such a thing was a terrible trait for a King.

Sure, he could be diplomatic when he wished, hell she'd seen him calm rooms full of unruly
Northerners before tricking Southerners into thinking he were on their side better than she
could, he was adept at it when he bothered. But with her? There were no frills to his words,
he was honest, and she liked that. She had spent most of her life around schemers; Cersei,
Margaery, Olenna, Littlefinger, she had learned much from them, but she preferred Jons
honesty.

"We're already married Jon" She said then with an amused smile, stating the obvious. They
had married long ago now, though she supposed technically it was in the future, a future they
would change.

But not their wedding, she would see it done again. Their original wedding had been quick,
without fuss and still the best day of her life, she remembered it like it were yesterday, stood
in the very spot they were now…

'You sure you don't want more time to plan?' Jon said, in the tone of a man who had no idea
how long weddings took to plan or what went into it.

Sansa rolled her eyes at him but smiled, why he asked that now, as they were stood in front of
the Heart Tree, ready to marry she didn't know, but it got a chuckle from their small
smattering of guests and she giggled a little as well, 'No Jon, let's just get married'

'Like get it over with?' He said with a laugh but a slightly offended look to which it she rolled
her eyes again.

'Of course, not' She said, and he laughed, she could tell he was japing, 'But why wait? We
both want this, we don't need any frills'

'Gods, if 14-year-old Sansa had told me she wanted a no frills wedding I would have been
sure she was an imposter' He teased, and she smacked his arm as their guests laughed before
laughing a little herself.

'Perhaps you're right' She teased, 'Perhaps we should wait a little longer'

At that it was his turn to roll his eyes, for he knew she was teasing, 'Alright, alright, aye' He
said, taking her hands again, 'Let's marry then'

A cheer rang through the Godswood at that declaration and their guests cheered again as
they were wed under the old gods and kissed to seal the union.

For Jon, the kiss was soft and sweet, not their first but it felt more real somehow, to be kissing
to seal their marriage. For Sansa, the kiss stirred something in her, some profound happiness
that she had finally married a man she cared for, a man she loved.

The wedding was quiet, few guests and no frippery, but to Sansa it was perfect, and as she
looked at Jon, as he pulled her close even as they broke the kiss, she knew he felt the same.
'To feast' Tormund yelled, and they all cheered at that again, lots of cheering made for a nice
wedding.

Even with few people to witness their union the cheers were loud. Tormund was the loudest of
course, though Brienne's 'huzzah' certainly rang true. Bran was quieter, and Arya too though
they both had smiles for the new couple, next to Arya stood Gendry, smiling too, though he
barely kept his gaze from Arya. Davos was looking on proudly, Samwell grinning from ear to
ear as was Ed who'd come down from the Wall. They would need to do another feast, for their
bannermen and the noble Lords and Ladies but for this they had only wanted it to be the
people they loved.

All made their way inside for the feast, and yet the new couple lingered back, and Jon felt the
need to say something, anything to the woman he knew he would soon love, if he didn't
already.

'So, we're married' He said, and picked her hand up to kiss it, he was rewarded with a
delightful blush, though he almost blushed at what Sansa said next.

'Not quite yet' At that his face froze and he almost stumbled to which Sansa laughed and
laughed.

'Right that's it' He said, and Sansa squealed as he picked her up in his arms, 'I think you've
teased me enough today' She shrieked at him but was grinning and laughing from ear to ear
as he lifted her up. He laughed too, even as he heard Tormund yell some profanity.

He kissed her again then, close and her hands cupped his face as he squeezed her waist. He
could get used to this.

They had kissed before of course, and she had given him her maidenhead long before the
wedding, but still they left the feast early, making love as man and wife felt different
somehow, felt better, and as Jon rolled onto his back and pulled his happy bride close he
knew then that he loved her, and though he didn't say it, Sansa knew, as she loved him too.

Always.

"I know" He said with a nod and Sansa resisted the urge to laugh at his expression, one that
looked a bit panicked that she might be suggesting he had forgotten they had married, but at
her giggle he rolled his eyes and clutched her hands tighter, clearly he wanted to get his point
across and Sansa nodded, the floor was his, for she had no idea how this would fix their
problems.

"But, if we marry here, under the old gods, and consummate" Jon wasn't a blusher but Sansa
knew if he could he'd go red, even now after so long together he was still sometimes like a
maid when it came to love making, unless they were in the bedroom of course, and then Jon
was no maid, he was more caveman perhaps, though very generous when it came to
the 'Lords kiss'. Sansa blushed then, a pretty red colour across her cheeks as she thought of
the first time Jon had done that to her and she had near screamed the castle down in pleasure.
"They won't be able to tear us apart"
"They still could" She said, her blush gone then, her smile dimmed as the worry took back
over that Jon, her Jon would be taken from her. She couldn't let them do that, never.

"No" He replied, with a fierce shake of his head and Sansa knew, Jon would find them a way
out of this, he would, she trusted him, he had to. "Lord Stark respects the old gods, if we told
him we married and we consummate, he will not dispute the union, he is too devout for that,
even if your Mother insists"

"But he thinks we think we're siblings" Sansa said, biting down on her lip.

"Leave that to me" He said, they didn't have much time, "Trust me?"

Sansa bit down on her lip then, thinking, before a smile spread across her face, he was right;
a marriage would lock them together, would ensure they weren't ripped apart, especially if
Jon's explanation to her Father was what she thought it would be, and had the inkling of his
plan.

It was perfect to keep them together, risky yes (her Father might take his head, she didn't
think he would though), but it was the only way, the only way for them to remain together.

As was most important.

They hadn't come back to be parted.

"You know we could have just consummated and told them we married, since we already
are" She said as Jon put her down and they walked closer to the Heart Tree, almost touching
it then.

"No" He shook his head, "In our minds we're married but in this life? We're not. I won't
dishonour you; I'll marry you before the Gods first"

Again, she blushed, and she leaned forward then, to kiss him, to kiss her Jon, so thoughtful,
so loving, so perfect, so honourable, even now, after all they'd been through. The kiss was
soft, gentle, and Jon squeezed her waist before pulling back.

"Isn't that for the end of the ceremony?" He japed, and Sansa scowled at him, to which of
course he laughed before taking her hands again, in front of the gods, it was time.

Sansa oddly felt a little nervous which was ridiculous! They were already married! But then
Jon was right, in this time they weren't. It was like doing it all over again.

Part of her wanted to run inside, rouse her family, and get them out, for so many of them had
been unable to attend their wedding before, but she knew that was impossible. Still, they
were close by, alive, that made her smile, they were near now, as she would give herself to
Jon all over again.

She was his, he was hers, now and always, and it felt right to confirm that again in this new
time, in their home once more, with their family alive and in Winterfell too.
"Do you know the words?" She asked, and he nodded, for Sansa they were burned in her
brain, had been since she had said them to Jon before, under this very tree, her heart already
so filled with love that she hadn't even realised. Now it was fuller, filled to the brim with her
love for Jon.

"I am Sansa of House Stark, I come here to be wed, a woman grown, true born and noble, I
come to beg the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim me?" She began, for there was
no one to say the words for her.

"Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen, who gives her?" He grinned, he knew now what he
hadn't known back then, he was no Snow. Sansa didn't care either way about his status,
though it made her proud, he was of two great houses, and more than worthy of both. He was
also a great King, a King that made her proud to be his Queen.

And would be again.

"I do, Sansa of House Stark!" She proclaimed with a grin; this was not quite the way it was
done, and Jon was grinning to. It felt appropriate in some ways, giving herself away though
part of her wished her Father could, here she would give herself instead. It was a little silly
and they both smiled.

"Do you take this man?" Jon asked then, referring to himself. This was an odd ceremony, but
the ceremony of the Old Gods did not dictate the need for witness or signing a piece of paper,
here they simply said the words before the Gods, and to Sansa that was far better than the
fuss of a Southern ceremony. Here it was honest, giving themselves to one another under the
Gods, it was as true as any blessing could get.

"I take this man" She said, without hesitation or pause, smiling from ear to ear, and Jon was
too, as he smoothed a thumb over her knuckles, he had done the same when they had married
before she remembered, in reassurance, she needed no reassurance now, she would forever be
sure that she wanted to be married to Jon, for the rest of their days, she knew he felt the same.

Not once had she regretted their marriage, not once had she questioned it or wanted to go
back. From the moment they had said the words under this very tree she had stood by them,
and she had wanted to stand by them.

It was then he pulled her into a kiss.

Again, the ceremony didn't require a kiss, but he pulled her into his arms all the same and she
was grinning as he did, as they held onto one another, as their lips met, harder this time, in a
crushing embrace. They may have been married before but as a breeze danced over the
Godswood this time felt just as good, felt just as true, and right, to be married now and here,
to commit themselves to one another from such a young age but so sure it would be forever.

Still, she felt she heard the echoes and cheers of their people, of their friends who'd seen them
wed before, as King and Queen of the North.

Felt the echoes, and smiled, they had left that life behind, to be with family, to save the world
even, but she'd never forget it.
 She giggled as Jon lifted her from the ground, spun her around in his arms but did not break
their kiss. She only broke the kiss to squeal as he spun around too fast and she whacked his
arm, laughing the whole while.

"I'd carry you back to your room, but I'm afraid we'd get caught" He said placing her down
and Sansa nodded, they still had to be careful, though Sansa knew, Jon had been right, once
they consummated none could pull them apart, and that was the most important thing.

"Your room" She said instead, "Don't want anyone to hear us" She said, and he nodded before
taking her hand again, and leading her back to his room, it was time to join together again.
They may have been in the bodies of teenagers, but they were of wiser minds, they would
consummate, to ensure they weren't torn apart, but it would be different, perhaps awkward,
but Sansa of course trusted Jon completely, he would take care of her.

They would join, and they would never be parted, not by anyone, not ever.

It was a little awkward as he led her into his childhood bedroom. When they had
consummated the first time it had been at their own pace, filled with passion and joy, now he
loved her more than he had back then, but he was nervous. He no longer had the sure
command over his body as he had when he was a man, he was wary of hurting Sansa, and it
did feel awkward as they sat down on the bed next to one another.

Silence persisted for a few seconds before Jon knew Sansa must be as nervous as him. He
needed to take the lead here, to step up, and so with a deep breath he placed a hand on his
wifes knee and turned to meet her gaze.

"It'll be alright" He said with a nod, and she smiled at him, nodding back.

"I know, I trust you Jon" That made him smile, her unfailing trust in him often made him feel
ten feet tall.

"I love you" He said, cupping her cheek with his hand and she leaned into his touch. He
would make this as good as he could for her, he would try not to hurt her, he would make her
feel loved, make her feel the love he had for her.

"I love you too" She said, and he nodded, before taking her in his arms.

He moved them onto the middle of the bed, placed three gentle kisses to her lips, one to each
cheek, one to each eyelid and finally one to her forehead before he pulled back for another
kiss on the lips.

She looked expectant, though a little nervous, and she reached for his breeches, but he shook
his head, and instead made his way down her body, first the Lords kiss to relax her, and then
he would take her for the first time in this new time, take her as man and wife, now and
always.

Chapter End Notes

I was just editing and re-reading it and I just never explained that jon had a plan beyond
re-wifing sansa? lol wtf, sorry guys

all will become clear

also fluff here is dialed to 2000, expect angst to follow (as is my way)

speak soon
 The Godswood
Chapter Notes

more chapters coming soon, edited 2023, lets go

do enjoy

songrecs: willow - taylor swift

See the end of the chapter for more notes

'You have more of the North in you than your brothers'

- Tyrion Lannister to Jon Snow

-x-

When they stopped, Jon rolling off of her, both panting, flushed, and utterly spent, did their
smiles slide a little.

Now it all came next.

The marriage had been an impulse decision, in acknowledging the truth; Lord Stark was a
man of honour, devout, true, he would never break up a union recognised by the Old Gods.
That they could count on, but as she looked up at the ceiling of Jon's childhood bedroom, as
she cuddled under the furs and glanced at her husband, now and always, she knew that wasn't
all they had to worry about.

They had planned, they had planned everything. They had thought of how to deal with King
Robert, the Lannister's, the Others, everything. What they hadn't planned was anything
deviating from what they had known, with things changing as they had now.

They had assumed things would follow the timeline as it had been before, but already things
had changed; they had been discovered, and that would throw the timeline into doubt, could
mess up all of their plans and schemes (for there were many).

She knew now they had been stupid, arrogant even, to assume they could play this life as it
had played out last time, hell they had even written it down!

Stop Father going South.

Fortify the Nights Watch.

Stop Roberts death.

Expose Jaime/Cersei.

It had been planned out, to ensure the Lannister's lost their grip on power, and the North was
strong once more. They had looked at it like a battle, going through each step to achieve
victory. They had spent night after night, wide awake, gulping down harsh brewed tea leaves.
They had thought they were prepared, they had worked and worked. Her eyes burning as she
looked at the recent history of the War of the Five Kings, Jon yawning as he sketched out
supplies, strongholds, and battles.

They had thought they were ready, prepared.

But now she could see, they had overlooked what would happen if things went differently,
they had thought of the long term – stopping Father taking the position as Hand of the King,
keeping Jon in Winterfell, shoring up the North, but they hadn't thought of the short term, of
mainly not getting caught, not being exposed.

They had thought they could handle it, and she knew she was mainly to blame here. Jon was
easy to hide, he would brood, frown and people overlooked him for his supposed status, but
she had publicly stood up for Jon, she had made a fuss, acted out of character, and now they
had been caught.

She just had to be thankful it was Father who had caught them, not her Mother, she shivered
at the thought.

"It is not your fault" She near rolled her eyes then, she was sure Jon somehow, someway had
the ability to tell what she was thinking, a way to get inside of her head, for he always knew.

"It is" She replied with a sigh, guilt curling in her stomach, she didn't want to ruin everything.
She had grown since being that lost little girl with stars in her eyes, colder, more stoic, a
player, not a piece, but clearly not enough – she had given them away.

"No" He said with a shake of his head, and when he opened his arms to her she shuffled
forward into them, that was an invitation she'd never refuse, even though she was spiralling
in that this was all of her fault.

"We weren't careful enough" Jon said with a shrug, "And we were bound to get found out,
unless we ignored one another"

"Perhaps we should have done" She said gloomily, knowing how awful that would have
been.

"We couldn't have" He said with another shake of his head, "Even if we had managed it,
which I could not have, I won't ignore you" He placed a kiss to her forehead then, and she felt
a little better, a little warmer, "We need to meet and talk for our plans, even that would have
been noticed, you know it is true"

"I suppose you're right" She said with a small sigh as she eased a little.
"What?" Jon said, and she did roll her eyes then, Jon did like to joke sometimes. It was a side
not many saw, only his brothers, Nights Watch and wildling, and his family, and her. "Can I
hear that again?!"

"No" She grumbled then, tucking her head into his chest, hiding her face to which he
laughed.

"How did that taste to say?" He mocked, and she felt her eyes must be rolling into the back of
her head.

"Like that awful vinegar Old Nan makes" She said, and he laughed again before pulling her
closer.

She was tempted to fall asleep, but she did not want her Father finding them like this in the
morning, they already had enough to explain, and so with a small sigh she sat up, Jon didn't
argue, for he clearly had come to the same conclusion.

Quickly she dressed, but left Jon's cloak. She wasn't feeling so defiant now, just worried.

"Sansa" Jon said, standing up then and pulling her into a hug, one she gladly went into, he
could clearly sense her worry. "It will be okay"

"Will it?" She whispered, and he kissed her forehead then, gentle and tender, which she
leaned into, worry spiking in her that this, them, would be hurt by their carelessness.

"I promise" He said pulling her close again, close enough they were almost one person, and
perhaps they were, one soul, one heart. "I have a plan"

She nodded at that, they didn't speak of his plan, she had already guessed it, it was the only
way after all.

They stayed like that for several minutes, just in an embrace before she pulled away, and
looked up at him, Jon, her husband, her soulmate.

"Meet me in the Godswood at dawn" He nodded at her words, "We'll need to get our story
straight"

"Aye" He said, and one last kiss, this time to her lips, and she knew she had to leave, and so,
she made her way to the door, but looked back once, just once.

"I love you" She said, for she did, with all of her heart, and she knew through all of this,
keeping Jon was the most important thing, above all else, that was her choice, she wouldn't
lose him, couldn't lose him.

She hadn't done all of this, finding a way back, breaking the laws of magic and time, to get
her family back but lose Jon, never.

"I love you too" He said with a smile, and with a nod she stepped out of his room, pulled the
door shut, and went into the cold.
She knew she wouldn't sleep as she hurried to her room, she had planning to do.

She wouldn't lose Jon, not now, not ever.

He barely slept.

He'd managed to settle his wife, spin her a tale that left a bitter taste in his mouth; he hated
lying, always had, always would. He had carried one lie with him for years now, and that
blackened his heart each time he told it or affirmed it. He wouldn't have held onto such a lie
for anyone else, anyone else but her.

Lyanna.

He hated lying, and yet when he had seen Jon and Sansa, his nephew and daughter, wrapped
in an embrace neither should want, he had known he had to steer Lady Stark away, she'd have
likely keeled over at such a sight.

He near had himself. To see them like that, unless they knew (and they couldn't), they should
be disgusted at the idea. And the words they were saying … they had sounded crazed, he
wasn't even sure he should try and pick them apart, understand them, for he couldn't, not at
all.

Perhaps come morning they'd bring him answers, though … the way they'd looked at him
when he revealed himself, he hoped it wouldn't be more lies.

Because, evidently when he had hauled them into his solar just a day or so earlier, they had
clearly been hiding something from him, he hoped they wouldn't again.

He was surprised, his children weren't liars, sure, Bran and Arya lied about climbing, about
secretly watching archery practice and Rickon lied about how much he hated peas. But Robb,
Sansa, Jon? They were old enough now he trusted them to be true, honest, just as he had
raised them to be, it troubled him that the latter two weren't.

"Are you alright Ned?" His wife asked then, rolling over to lie on his chest. She could sense
his troubles. Part of him wanted to confide in her, for like the secret about Jon he hated
keeping things from her, but he knew he couldn't reveal this … at least not yet.

"Fine" He promised, placing a kiss to her forehead before settling down. He felt morning
would be turbulent, perhaps it would go easier with some sleep, and so he tried to get some
rest, but it wasn't easy.

And as he finally dozed off, he thought about his sister.

He dreamt of red stained sheets, the smell of winter roses, blood on his hands, Ice stood near
the door, Howland bleeding down below. He dreamt of William Dustin, Ethan Glover,
Martyn Cassel, Theo Wull, Mark Rysewell, littering the Dornish sand. 6 arrived, only 2
returned.
He dreamt of Arthur Dayne, of the baking sun, of Lynna's cries, Wylla the wet nurse's
expression of fear. He dreamt of the bundle in his sister's arms, of Jon, black of hair, grey
eyes, no hint of his Father in him.

He dreamt of the Tower of Joy, of Jon, of Lyanna.

And he hoped tomorrow he would get the answers from her son, and his daughter … though
part of him already knew, they would be answers he would not like.

Dawn came quickly.

It was still dark outside when he slipped out of bed, washed, pulled on fresh clothes, his
cloak, weapons belt and made his way out of his room and to the Godswood. The servants
bustled about, but the rest of Winterfell slept, though he imagined his Uncle was likely wide
awake after what he had heard and seen yesterday. Still, he came across none but the servants
as he hurried through the courtyard.

It was strange, adjusting to being a bastard again, not that he'd ever truly shed that title, he
may have discovered he was trueborn, but he would always carry that identity with him –
bastard. It was just strange now, where he had once been treated like a King, he was now
just a boy, lowly.

It wasn't the blow to his ego that bothered him, it was just so different, and he had gotten used
to giving orders, not taking them, it would be an adjustment.

But as he rounded the corner to the Godswood, saw the red leaves of the Weirwood, the
shimmering lake, some green still poking out from under the snow, he knew it was a
necessary and worthwhile adjustment.

They were home, together, and they had time to prepare for the future.

Worthwhile.

Sansa arrived soon after him, and she walked with a purpose, no doubt his Uncle had noticed
that. They held themselves differently too. Jon was making more of an effort to hunch over,
eyes on the floor as he had before (though he'd never truly stopped the latter, Sansa had
scolded him about it more than once), but he would need to talk to Sansa. She walked like a
Queen, not like a girl.

An adjustment.

Once she approached him, he smiled at her, and they shared a quick kiss. They had indulged
in their own ideas of staying together the night before, but now as they both took a seat next
to the lake, the cold snow barely a bother, (compared to the drifts and hills of snow from the
future this light layer was nothing, and he had barely felt that either), they knew they had
more important things to do.
He still glanced at the Weirwood for a second though, twice he had married her in front of it,
and twice he had been the happiest man alive.

"So, what do we do?" Sansa asked, and he turned to her then, they had much to figure out,
and he knew it wouldn't be easy convincing Lord Stark of what he knew he had to convince
him of.

"It will have to be part truth, part lie" He asked, he didn't like lying, wasn't as good at it as
Sansa (but then she had tutored under Cersei, Lady Olenna, Littlefinger for goodness sake;
she was practically a spymaster herself), but he could, and would lie when necessary.

'You have to be smarter than Father, you need to be smarter than Robb. I loved them, I miss
them, but they made stupid mistakes and they both lost their heads for it'

She had been right, was right, sometimes setting aside one's personal honour to succeed was
necessary, that he had learned. Still, it didn't feel good to him, to lie, but he would do it to
protect Sansa. He'd do anything to protect her and had.

His honour meant little if he couldn't protect her.

"I don't want to lie" Sansa said, and he knew she told the truth, as good as she was at it, he
knew she found no joy in lying.

'We all enjoy what we're good at'

No, not everyone did.

"But it might be the only choice" She continued, and he nodded. He felt the same, he didn't
want to lie any further and he thought of how much easier it would be to tell the truth, what a
weight off it would be, but it had too many risks.

"The risks of telling the truth?" He found talking out risks, plans, concerns out loud was
always more useful, to visualise them, to pick them apart.

"He doesn't believe us" There, that was the only risk. If Lord Stark did believe them, it would
make things much easier, much, much easier, but there was too much risk he wouldn't.

"If he doesn't?" The same again; visualise, pick apart.

"He'll think we're mad" Sansa said, and he nodded.

"Think worse"

'Sometimes when I try to understand a persons motive I play a little game. I assume the
worst. What is the worst reason they could possibly have for saying what they say and doing
what they do? Then I ask myself how well does that reason explain what they say and what
they do?'

Once Sansa had repeated that to him, 'a lesson from Littlefinger'. Jon hated the man, had long
before he'd dispensed justice to him, and long after, but he had left behind lessons, lessons
 that (as much as he hated to admit it), had their use.

"He'll separate us" Sansa whispered, and he nodded, that was the risk. Jon could see Lord
Stark thinking them addled, sending him to the Wall early and Sansa to a Maester to be
healed. He could see a future in which Eddard Stark said nothing of such madness to anyone
else, to protect them in his mind.

He wouldn't allow that to happen.

"So, we lie" Sansa said with a nod.

"Aye" He said then, taking her hands in his. It would be harder, more complicated, they
would have to fully go it alone, to try and take on these impossible tasks with no help, whilst
viewed as children, with no power or reputation, taking on the world. But they would be
together, and that mattered more than all else.

"Okay" Sansa said, linking her fingers through his, "We lie"

And lie they would. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, but the idea of losing Sansa, of being
torn from her after they had taken such a risk in coming back … that would leave a far worse
taste, one he could only imagine, for he would never let that happen.

"You know my plan?" He asked this time, and Sansa looked up at him, her blue eyes meeting
his grey. To others he knew they seemed cold, calculating, and he could see that to, but he
also saw the warmth, the loyalty stirring in them, and he knew this was her battleground.

She nodded, as did he, her support was there; it was a risky tale to tell, a difficult one to pull
off, but … it was the only way he could see getting through this.

And together they would … they had to.

Chapter End Notes

honestly re-reading/re-editing this story I realised I've dialed back the magic/fuckery to
keep it realistic, I might just go off the wall idk

some will be disappointed they ain't revealing to ned, nah our bbys are gunna weather
this alone

also again, jon/sansa are WILDLY underprepared for actually travelling back in time,
they THINK they prepared but thinking and actually being thrown back are two
HUGELY different things - clearly lol

speak soon
 The Truth Of It All
Chapter Notes

yes this is real, yes this is a 2023 update, yes I promise to do better

chapters 1-7 have been updated with improvements (same sl), I recommend re-reading
before reading this

do enjoy, do comment

songrecs: in the end - tommee profitt version

See the end of the chapter for more notes

'I am a Stark, yes, I can be brave'

- Sansa Starks thoughts

-x-

As he stepped into his Uncles solar, he was glad for how often he'd practiced keeping a stoic
expression, for how he'd forced himself over and over again not to betray a flicker of emotion
on his face.

Sitting opposite Mance Rayder, Stannis Baratheon, Kings and Lords, Wildlings and
Commanders, and he betrayed nothing, it was useful then, it would be useful now.

Sansa's face was a mask beside him too, but whereas he'd learned from Leaders and Generals,
she had learned from Spymasters and Schemers, he could keep that brooding expression,
Sansa could offer a fake smile or tears on command (and had showed him as much once, to
which he'd been both impressed and disconcerted).

It had been out of character for Sansa to reveal their closeness, to betray herself to her
emotions, but he knew he was the same.

They could play the game, but when it came to one another playing became harder, and their
priorities shifted.

Now, he couldn't allow that, and as Lord Stark waved them in and they took their seats he
resisted the urge to take Sansa's hand, forced himself to sit still, slump even a little; he was no
King here, and he needed to act like it.

He allowed himself one glance at Sansa to see her head bowed, and he allowed her presence,
her expression of hope to give him strength, he would take the lead here, and he could not
fuck it up.

Them being together, staying together relied on him getting this right.

He had to get it right.

"Explain" Lord Stark said curtly, and Jon noted the bottle of Northern whisky already waiting
on the table, Lord Stark anticipated this being a difficult conversation and Jon had to agree,
he knew it was a huge risk for him and Sansa, but what other choice did they have?

They had been careless and were now rueing the consequences, it was time to take risks.

"I know I'm not a Stark" Jon began, blurted out his words really, he should have been more
careful, measured, and yet it dawned on him that being too mechanical would not work, they
had to not just give Lord Stark a story, they had to sell it.

Their lives depended on it.

Lord Stark sighed then, and Jon saw a flash of pity in his gaze, "Jon, you may not have my
name, but you have my blood, and I…"

"That's not what I meant" Jon interrupted, and felt himself almost flush, he'd never
interrupted the man he had thought to be his Father before, but he hoped it came across as
frantic rather than disrespectful.

"I know I'm not a Stark, or Snow" He said, and chose his next words carefully, "I'm a Sand"

A lie, he knew he was a Targaryen, remembered Sam showing him the records, Bran
recalling the wedding of his Mother and Father, Howland Reed arriving with a marriage
certificate and his baby blanket, he was no bastard after all.

He remembered when he had found out, when Sansa had found him kneeling, sobbing in
front of the statue of his Mother in the crypts, when she had swept him into her arms, already
so close, and he had explained everything, his heritage, the truth of his parentage, and what
that meant.

He was a Targaryen, not Stark.

And he was no bastard after all.

It had taken time to accept, to work through in his head, to let go of the resentment of the
stain of bastardry, but he had seen why Lord Stark had done this, why he had gone to such
lengths to hide his birth right, especially because he was trueborn, he had come to accept that,
to understand, but it had taken time.

The Northerners had needed time too, when he and Sansa had revealed the truth, had needed
time to accept it but forgot most of their grumblings when Bran suggested he and Sansa
marry, probably already knowing how close they'd grown, how they'd need no convincing at
all.
Never siblings, something else had bloomed.

But now, he had to pretend he thought he was still a bastard, perhaps Lord Stark would
correct him, perhaps he'd try and hide that too, the fact he technically had a claim to the Iron
Throne, but at the very least, even knowing he was Sansa's cousin, not brother, and admitting
it, got them out of this mess.

To an extent.

"Jon…" Lord Stark began, but Jon shook his head.

He had planned this, knew he should let Lord Stark speak, and yet as Sansa had lost her head
when Lady Stark had insulted him, he felt something bubble up then, something boil over in
him that needed to be said.

"How could you lie to me?" He asked, it was foolish, and he watched as Sansa lifted her
gaze, eyebrows knitting together, confused, this wasn't part of the plan, he had long accepted
why his Uncle had hidden him, even from himself, and yet, he felt the need to ask, now he
had him here, felt he had to ask, even if he already knew the answer.

"Robert would have killed you" His Uncle said, his expression one of sadness then, all anger
draining away. Jon felt at least happy he wasn't trying to deny it now, even as he felt a pang
of guilt for the pure grief that encompassed his Uncles face.

Grief over Lyanna, his Mother.

How he wished to have known her.

"Your Mother Jon" His Uncle stood then, poured them each out a drink, one for Sansa too
(though much smaller), and passed them out, Jon drank his in one go, Sansa managed a sip
and wrinkled her nose, he would have laughed had it been any other time, "I promised her I
would protect you"

"He's always wanted to know his Mother" Jon heard Sansa say, and he knew it was not to
heap the guilt on her Father, but was in a moment of calculation, it was key Lord Stark
understand Sansa already knew, and perhaps had for a while.

How else could they justify their love?

High risk … high reward.

"I know" Lord Stark said with a nod, "But I had to protect you, that came first"

He paused then, and Jon felt the tension in the room, knew he could cut it with a knife, but
waited, he still felt angry, felt he was owed an explanation, but he already had it, he knew
that, had when he'd asked.

It still hurt though.

"How did you find out?" Lord Stark seemed resigned then, his mind a million miles away
from his other question (which Jon had hoped for and counted on). "Tell me"

At that, Jon made his way over to the open fire, removed his glove and placed his hands in
the flames. He had known this would work, had known Lord Stark would need proof, and
with no documents to call on, no way to access them that would be believed, he had gone for
something more showy.

He didn't even know if this was due to his Targaryen heritage, or from being ripped back
from death. After all, he had burned when he had saved Lord Commander Mormont from a
wight by throwing a lantern at it, and yet weeks after finding out the truth about his parents
he had accidently picked up a too hot pot when a kitchen hand had dropped it, and whereas
the kitchen hand had been nursing blisters, his skin had been unmarred.

Was it the same reason he could no longer feel any cold? The same reason he could feel that
part of him was gone? He didn't know, but he knew it had its uses.

Especially now.

"Damn Targaryens" His Uncle said with a sigh, eyes widening, perhaps it was a Targaryen
trait, but that didn't explain his sudden immunity. When reading Targaryen history, he had
seen several references to immunity to fire, perhaps it was a well known myth, but again it
suited his purposes here.

And for his Uncle, what other explanation could there be?

"When?" Lord Stark asked, tone clipped now, though the grief remained in his gaze.

"Months ago" He said, his and Sansa's connection was too deep to pretend to be weeks old
and shallow, "Sansa was getting lemon cakes from the kitchens" He smiled then, couldn't
help it when he knew Sansa would be furious he was using her well known affinity for
sweetthings as a scapegoat, even Lord Stark managed an upturn of the lip, "A pan dropped, I
lifted it and then got reading, about Targaryen history, about Roberts Rebellion, and then it
just all made sense"

Lord Stark nodded, and Jon felt his heart lift in hope; could they be believed, could the risk
be paying off?

Gods, he hoped so.

"I had so hoped you hadn't inherited that trait" Lord Stark said with a sigh, "But here we are"

"I know" He continued, "And things have changed since then"

"Clearly" His Uncle said, glancing at Sansa and then back at him again, he seemed almost
resigned to it, resigned to the situation, but then his gaze sharpened. Fuck.

"What did you mean about being King and Queen?" He seemed frantic then, switching his
line of questioning; Jon supposed he should be glad how easily he'd accepted his initial story,
seemingly unquestioning how he'd figured out his heritage, and what that meant for him and
Sansa, but this? This was trickier.

"I…" He began, his mind racing, he had often had to think things up on the fly as Lord
Commander, and yet Sansa stepped in quickly.

"We were just playing around Father" She said, stepping in, and Jon near smiled; that was
what made them a good pair, always able to cover for one another, whether it be now as
children in front of Lord Stark, or be it at a war council, or presiding over court.

They had one an-others backs, always had, always would.

"You absolutely cannot" He said then, and seemed more furious than he had before,
somehow, and Jon nodded, quickly, to defuse the situation as it dawned on him the out Sansa
had given him, and what Lord Stark thought that meant.

"Jon … I.." He paused then, and Jon screwed his hands into fists, hard enough his knuckles
went white, his unburned knuckles, what was coming now?

"You're not a bastard" He said, "I can't lie to you further"

Jon was no actor, didn't bother gasping, but instead dropped his gaze to the floor, tried to
interject something into his tone, letting some of the boiling anger out as he spoke to the
stone at his feet, "What?"

"Your Mother and Father married before they had you, Rhaegar Targaryen after all, he could
have multiple wife's, at least he thought so" He said with a shake of his head, "Your Mother
left me a letter explaining it all, he loved her, and she loved him"

Jon didn't have to pretend then as he looked up and knew unshed tears clung to his gaze; he
had known they were married, had known there had been love thanks to Bran, but to hear it
confirmed? In a letter only Lord Stark would have read? It was better.

"Truly?" He asked, his tone cracking, no falsehoods there.

"Truly" His Uncle said, and managed a sad smile, "They loved each other, and Gods, she
loved you so much, for the time she had, she adored you"

He had hoped as much, but Bran had never said, and a tear trickled down his cheek then, felt
Sansa take his hand … this was different to learning the facts Bran and Sam had given, this
was more.

This was his Mother, who she had been, who he so wished he had known.

"And that was why" Lord Stark moved around the table then, placed a hand on Jon's shoulder
as another tear fell, "That was why I lied, hid it for all these years, to protect you"

He nodded then, he'd always known, always understood, but this was different, and though
part of him was glad to have learned this as he did, for surely Lord Stark was convinced now,
the main part of him just revelled in knowing;
His Mother had loved him, she had loved his Father. He wasn't just trueborn, but a product of
love.

Tears continued to fall.

"But" His Uncle stepped back then, back behind his desk, looked across at Jon and Sansa
with hands held, and as Jon lifted his gaze he saw a flicker of fear in them then, true, real,
fear.

Can a man be brave when he is afraid?

That is the only time a man can be brave.

"Playing or not, you absolutely cannot entertain any idea of the Iron Throne" His tone was
fierce then, as he looked across at them, at Sansa who had tears unshed of her own, and Jon,
who sniffed, forced back any more tears, and forced himself to nod.

Of course, they hadn't been discussing the Iron Throne, they'd been King and Queen in the
North in their time, but if this was how to get his Uncle off the 'time travel' trail, this was the
way.

"I'm serious" He continued, "Both of you" Lord Stark said, and Sansa nodded too, as he
glanced her way, her eyes wide. "No one can know the truth, Jon will be killed for it, without
a doubt"

"Promise me" He carried on, his tone more furious than he'd ever seen, more desperate even
as he looked across at them, "Swear it on the Old Gods, I'm glad you know the truth Jon, in a
way, but you cannot ever go for your birth right, you'll surely be killed for it"

His birth right … he'd never heard it explained that way before, and it stirred something in
him.

"But Father…" Sansa began, mostly silent until this point, but now she had something to say
he could see, she glanced at him first, and then back again, "I … I won't marry anyone else"

Jon knew it needed to be said, knew it needed to be made clear; they knew the truth of Jon's
parentage, and in that, they had risked revealing the truth about their feelings, feelings they
couldn't hide.

Truth and lies.

They couldn't tell the whole truth, but some, enough to have an impact, enough to ensure they
were never parted. For what else could they do?

They could never tell the truth, that they had somehow travelled back in time, but they could
risk telling part of the story, of Jon's parentage, and the feelings that had come from learning
it, it was the only way to stay together.

Risk and reward.

 "By the Gods" His Uncle said then, falling back into his chair with a thump "A Stark and a
Targaryen" He shook his head then, cradled his head in his hands, and Jon felt a pang of
worry, of what this could mean, would mean, what would they reveal? He didn't know. "Not
again"

Not again.

Jon looked at Sansa then, and her fear was reflected in his eyes.

'Targaryen men have a habit of falling for Stark women'

Sam had said that once as a jape, and yet it was true.

But what would the consequences of it be? They would soon find out.

Chapter End Notes

ooof that was emotional to write

here we go, changes already and remember the ripple effect ...

new update coming soon (I promise)

 The Crown
Chapter Notes

a long awaited update

do enjoy

comment if you can'

songrecs: love the hell out of you - lewis capaldi (his new album is lit)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

'My name is Snow'

'Bastard'

'Guilty. Of that at least'

- A conversation between Jon Snow and Cregan Karstark

-x-

The next day she could feel eyes on her.

She suddenly had two of her Fathers guards watching her, not shadowing her but keeping an
eye from a distance. As she woke, broke her fast, went to lessons, she could see them a foot
or two back, just watching.

She felt moderately offended that Jon (the glance she'd caught of him when she'd gone to her
lessons and he his) didn't seem to have acquired any shadows. Either her Father trusted her
less or worried about her more, or a combination.

Either way, it made the day difficult.

It made her uneasy, the guards, it reminded her of Kings Landing, of always being dogged by
Cersei and Joffreys creatures, but she showed no unease, schooling her face, going to lessons,
answering questions, and helping Arya with her penmanship. She didn't complain or whine,
just acted as though she wasn't being watched.

Her and Jon had to act as siblings of course, they'd been foolish to think it would be easy to
be indifferent to one another, but now this was forcing them to. Their Father knew the truth
now, or a version of it at least, and hadn't said a word since dismissing them, though he'd
clearly taken action.
She knew he'd accepted their story, so worried about their relationship he hadn't questioned
them, or looked at some of the glaring holes their story held, just terrified at the idea of a
Stark and Targaryen union once again.

What had her Father said?

'You don't' understand the danger a union between a Targaryen and Stark could bring'

Sansa did understand, she knew of Rhaegar and Lyanna, she knew it had plunged the country
into war, but it had been more than that, there had been her Uncles murdered by the Mad
King, it had been the brewing tension of a failing Targaryen monarchy, it had been more
complex.

But she knew, Jon being outed as Targaryen, to which he'd need to be for them to be together
as they should be, was what her Father feared, Jons heritage come to light, for surely that
would see him marked for death.

Which meant either handing his nephew over to be killed (and she knew her Father would die
first), or war.

Only one felt inevitable, and that scared her, and she knew that was what scared her Father
too.

And so, she remained away from Jon for the day, they sat separately at luncheon, their
lessons were split anyway, but she knew she needed to see him before days end, figure out
how they went forward, figure out what to do next.

Really for all their planning, things had gone off the road rather quickly.

She knew it was because no matter any amount of planning in the world they'd never truly
believed, or truly dared to hope they could travel through time to return to their family and
fix all mistakes; they hadn't wanted the crushing pain of it not happening, which had felt the
most likely scenario.

And so, yes, they'd prepared, they'd studied, they'd talked, but they hadn't confronted what it
would really be like, how difficult, how strange.

So, here they were now, the day drawing to a close, Sansa feeling a little panicked to be
without Jon … who would soothe her through her nightmares?

Maybe she'd have to soothe herself again, like she had in Kings Landing and then the Vale;
the blanket stuffed in her mouth to muffle her screams, tears staining the linens, exhausted
even after a full night's sleep.

It seemed she'd have no choice, as she headed to her rooms for the night, her two new guards
standing outside, she nodded at them as she stepped inside and shut the door, and head them
stand to guard.

Yes, there would be no leaving tonight.

She felt panic claw up her throat, trapped, trapped, trapped; like a pretty bird in a gilded cage
all over again, she had to take several deep breaths, fling open her window, and take gulps of
cold air outside, that comforted her; the cold, the North was only this cold, the stifling heat of
the South couldn't reach her here.

Lady was some comfort, as she hopped onto the bed Sansa ran shaking hands through her fur,
calming herself to be near her direwolf. She'd shadowed her today too, though twice she'd ran
off and Sansa had seen her with Ghost, an odd jealousy forming that she couldn't be with Jon,
as her direwolf was with his.

As Lady settled down, she busied herself, washing, preparing herself for bed. She'd have to
catch Jon tomorrow. As she pulled on a long nightgown her hands shook, but she didn't feel
close to collapse, instead she was just trembling, and not from the cold, as she approached
her bed, reaching for Lady once again.

Just as she went to lay down, hands shaking, even in her child bedroom she felt trapped, like
a prisoner once again.

She remembered Winterfell from her old life, how she'd spent so much time outside, trudging
through the snow, breathing in the freezing air. She'd spend at least a few hours a day on the
Castle Walls, just looking out to the North, taking in the vastness, the lack of walls.

Sometimes, Jon would take her outside of the castle, not even for a ride, just a long walk
around the walls, just to be free of any restraints. She'd shivered but had always wanted to
stay out longer, breathing in the North, breathing in freedom.

Here, she was trapped.

Until…

"Sansa!" She jumped as she heard her voice hissed from outside. She only managed to keep
quiet by clapping a hand over her mouth to stop any shriek of surprise, though it was a close-
run thing.

A quick glance at the door, and thankfully it remained closed, now she was thankful for the
barrier. A quick 'shh' motion to Lady who wouldn't dream of yelping, regardless of the
situation, a kiss to her forehead and she ran to her window.

Instantly her face split into a smile, hands steadying, as she found Jon, standing at the foot of
her window, two levels down, smiling at her, dressed warm, holding out his arms, "Join me
for a walk?" He whispered, and she had to stifle a giggle.

"I can't get down from here!" She whispered back, leaning out, but Jon shook his head.

"I'll catch you" There was no doubt in his voice, Sansa hesitated for only a second before she
nodded. She quickly whirled away to secure a cloak over her nightgown, pull on her boots.
She went to the window before turning back, quickly stuffing some pillows under her
blankets, arranging them in hopes if anyone checked on her they'd be fooled.
And then she went to the window, to Jon, her Jon.

"You really will catch me?" She asked, she knew he would, but the drop looked intimidating.

She remembered once jumping into a snowdrift as a child, a dare from Arya that for once
she'd agreed to, she'd broken an arm, and spent the next months terrified to go near any
height.

Now, she revelled in being high up, perhaps she was like a bird.

Though she didn't like the idea of plummeting down.

"Of course" Jon insisted, looking mock offended she'd doubt him to which she giggled, but
nodded.

How else would they see each other?

A deep breath, and she swung her legs over the frame, dangled them down, and then with a
nod dropped down.

And of course, Jon caught her in his strong grip, his arms cradling her, as could almost have
been predicted as a certainty.

"I missed you" Was all she could say as her face was level with his, for she had, so much so it
had almost been an ache.

"I missed you too" She could see that ache in him too.

And then they kissed, and all was right, for now.

The Godswood was their refuge, tucked under the Heart Tree.

If anyone came looking at first glance they were hidden, it wouldn't hold up to further
scrutiny, but Sansa hoped it wouldn't come to that.

They sat, tucked into one another, the ground cold but snow free, Jon had tucked her into his
cloak, her head on his chest, knees to hers. They'd sat like this once or twice in the same spot
in the future, though it had been much colder then.

Winter has come…

A white raven carrying a scroll had said that, but they'd already known.

"How was your day?" She asked in a whisper, it was cold out, her breath curdled, but she
knew Jon wasn't bothered by the cold, and so cuddled her close, and she with his cloak was
warm enough, and it was worth it either way.

It was quiet too, a hush over the sacred place, hence her whisper.
"Fine" Jon whispered back, "Lessons, stuff I already know, training where I have to play
down my skill" He said it without arrogance, one of the many things Sansa loved about him,
"You?"

"The same on the lessons" She said, tucking her head into Jon's chest, seeking that comfort,
"It feels strange, being treated as a child again"

"I know" He agreed, "I saw you had some bodyguards"

"Mmm" She said with a nod, "Fathers keeping a watch on me"

"But not all the time" He said cheekily, and she rolled her eyes as he laughed, clearly pleased
with himself for sneaking her away, "I guess we'll have to keep our meetings to this from now
on"

"Its probably better" She said, and Jon nodded, "That way Father will be able to ignore what
we told him"

"You think he will?" Jon asked, brow furrowed; worried, she knew, so was she.

"No" She said, because in every spare moment of the day she'd been thinking about her
Father, of what he'd make of what they'd told him, of what he'd do, "He'll probably try and
get me a match sooner"

"And if he does?" Jon asked, but he didn't sound angry, for she knew he'd simply never let
that happen, she smiled, Jon without question could be relied on.

"I'll refuse of course" She said, "Father isn't the kind to force a daughter down the aisle"

"I know" Jon said with a nod, "But it might get difficult"

"I know" Sansa responded in kind, she knew her Father would be worried, worried about her
attachment to Jon, she was just thankful he likely wouldn't tell her Mother, knowing what her
fury would be, "I guess it will all come to a head eventually"

"Mmm" Jon replied this time, "When it does come to a head … you know I'd rather we keep
my parentage secret"

She near rolled her eyes again, this had been a point of contention for months on what would
happen if they returned, "And you know I think it will have to come out to stop the
Lannister's taking power again and ruining Westeros"

"I know" He sounded mournful, Sansa knew he had no wish to be King of the Seven
Kingdoms, but she also knew he'd liked being King in the North, would like to be it
again, and felt awfully guilty for such thoughts.

There was a clear path they could both see, for Jon would never steal Robb of his birth right,
but it frustrated Sansa endlessly that Jon would refuse his own.

What other path was there? They both knew the answer to that.
"You remember we talked about different paths?" She asked tentatively, because of course he
knew, they'd debated this over and over, there had never been a winner, but she also knew Jon
found what would be inevitable, hard to swallow.

"If the North goes independent…" He began, but Sansa cut him off, they'd been down this
path before.

"Then Robb would be King after Father, which is fine, but the South would never allow it"
Sansa continued, "So we need to overthrow them and put someone on the Throne"

"Stannis…" Jon began, and Sansa loved him for his honour, but it could be a nightmare
sometimes, the Stark honour had its uses for their reputation, and she stood by it, as a Stark
herself, but it shouldn't be what ended them.

Not again.

She wouldn't let it be what ended them.

Not again.

"Would not let us secede" She followed up, some annoyance in her voice, they'd been over
this, but she'd known they'd have to again, Jon was stubborn, and had no desire to be a
Southern King. "Nor would Renly, who'd be a dreadful King regardless"

"I know" Jon said with a sigh and a shake of his head, "But I don't want to go South, its not
fair on you" That wasn't the only reason.

"I know" She replied, that warmed her, that it was a given that she'd be his Queen, when the
truth came out and all was explained. She wouldn't be the best political alliance for him, he'd
be better marrying Ariana Martell of Dorne or perhaps Margaery Tyrell, but she'd hardly be
suggesting that.

They were married now after all.

He was her King, in more ways than one, she wasn't letting him go.

"What matters is saving Westeros and our family" She repeated, and Jon nodded. He was
brooding she could see, but she had to drive this point home, the point he so hated, "And we
can only do that with you as King"

"And you as Queen" He said, but it wasn't accusatory, but just for him to hammer home that
she'd be by his side for all of it, if he had to be a Southern King, he'd need her as his Queen.

'When I'm Queen I will make them love me'

Hadn't she said that as a child? A foolish child, but that belief she remained steadfast by. Fear
could achieve much, but love so much more.

"Exactly" She said, and looked up at Jon then, a sad smile on her features, "I know you don't
want to"
 "I don't want to rule in the South" There, the acknowledgment he'd been happy as King in the
North, would be again, but it wouldn't; couldn't, work that way this time.

"It's your birth right "Sansa whispered, "Yours, above anyone else"

He nodded. He didn't mention his own personal happiness, Jon would sacrifice to save others
without question, but he worried about her, hated the idea of ruling over Southern courts,
worried about what would happen after.

"She'll still come" Jon said, there it was, "She'll want her Iron Throne"

"Yes" Sansa said with a nod, the Dragon Queen, who'd sent them demands to bend the knee
as she'd crossed the narrow sea, all which they'd refused. Daenerys Targaryen, Jons only
living relative, bar Maester Aemon now. "But we'll need her dragons, and as a Targaryen…"

"That's just a theory" Jon said, but that was a topic for another day, as he tipped his head
back, "How can I rule the South well when I despise it for how they abandoned us? What
they did to you?"

"You will" Sansa said, and the confidence in her voice was so full Jon managed a strained
smile, "You were an amazing King in the North, you'll do just as well as King of Westeros"

There was nothing to be said after that, as Jon tipped his head back and pulled Sansa close,
and they cuddled together, in the cold, but revelling in being with each other.

And planning for the future, this had always been the path Sansa knew they would need to go
down. The Lannister's would have to be removed, and the North would not secede without
consequence, too much consequence.

Jon, she knew could unite the people, he had the right family, the right name, a Stark Queen,
he'd have the armies, in the North, the Riverlands, the Vale, the right reason, the right
temperament, and he'd be good at it, with that she had no doubt.

He would be King; she'd make sure of it.

Though, there was much to do first. Starting with letting Jon Arryn die.

Chapter End Notes

ooooooooooo

so yeah, they know there is a path to jon becoming king, and they know it is not going to
be lined with flowers

they did have a plan after all ... lets just see how it works

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