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Spring was always beautiful in Winterfell. The snow laid in Goodswood, covering everything in delicate quilt, but it wasn’t as frosty as half a year ago and air didn’t bring the smell of death anymore. Better days were coming, or the prophecies told them so, but grew out of tales like this a long time ago. Despite that, warmth carried a strange spell, her furs were lighter this day, and so was her duty. She was at the only place no one would dare to disturb her, and that’s precisely why she should leave this place soon. Just a little while longer.
Quiet footsteps destroyed the delicate patterns snow created on the ground.
“Your Grace?”
“Yes?”
“Your cousin has arrived.”
She sighed, standing up. Calm and delicate things never last anyway.
***
He waited in her solar. With the warmth, the fear of lack of wood and food was dissipating fast and the fireplace was lit, fire crinkling merrily, illuminating his face. He was standing before her desk, facing the doors, hands behind his back. Waiting. He looked different than before; she couldn’t pinpoint the reason though. Surely, the years behind the wall changed him. But she immediately recognised the gruff of his voice, the soft way of speaking seemingly reserved just for her. The intimate little smile, almost as he couldn’t help himself.
“You called on me, Your Majesty.”
Sansa scowled at the sound of her title but reigned in her emotions quickly. This fight, she wouldn’t win like that. She learned it the last time he was here.
“Cousin” she walked closer to him, slowly, taking of her gloves and standing just before him. “You rode faster than I anticipated.”
Now he seemed to be at loose of words. Good.
“Yes, well... I was sure you needed me. Urgently.” And she knew he was telling the truth. The letter she sent was vague, though she didn’t mean to scare him.
“Nothing frightening has happened, if that’s what you’re asking. But I do need you” She stood up a little straighter. “From now on, you are pardoned from every crime you committed and are free to walk the North as you please.” He was visibly shocked, taking a step back and shooking his head.
“Sansa, no. I...”
“I governed the North during the Long Night” She interrupted him. “I did everything I could for my people to survive. But I’m tired and I can’t do it alone anymore. So, I ask for your help, Jon Targaryen.”
He didn’t respond, just stared at her unbelievingly. Then, as if he made his decision, he nodded sharply and made a move to exit the room. Once again, Sansa stopped him, raising her hand and almost touching his chest.
“We have a lot more to discuss, if you agree” She tried to make him look at her, make him understand. She didn’t want to command him. She was giving him a choice.
Jon inhaled sharply and finally looked up, his eyes searching. She let her hand fall but didn’t back down. Their breaths mingled. Sansa felt tension tingling in her body but made no move, willing herself to calm down, her heart to stop pounding so rapidly. Just as she started to grow restless, she saw Jon’s eyes softening and his posture relaxing.
“Aye, my Queen. I will do everything what I can to help you” Sansa let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and felt her lips lifting in a relieved smile.
“I will send for supper. A long night awaits us” Jon returned the smile, catching her midstep, taking her captive, just with his eyes. Her mind went blank, only one thought appearing beside the tangle of emotions she couldn’t hold at bay anymore.
Oh, how sweet it was to see him again.
***
He didn’t stay for long. She should’ve expected that, after all. Summer was upon them, the snow no longer stayed on the ground, when she had to say her goodbyes again. She held him tightly, when the time came, and she couldn’t resist thinking, that he too didn’t want to let her go. Her fingers were clinging to his new fur, the one she made during many nights in her solar, when both he and Ghost kept her company. But the lightness in her chest and fire that burned in her veins slowly faded, as he took a small step back, keeping his eyes just above her head. The cold was creeping back in, as she watched him from the walls, riding back north. In the evening, when she closed the doors of her room and started to undress, she felt completely frozen.
***
The day wasn’t different than the others, not really. Lately, all her life faded into unrecognizable blur of requests, letters, talks and numbers. She rarely slept anymore, but it wasn’t as bad, because dreams didn’t let her rest anyway. The day turned into the night and she barely noticed, slouched behind the desk. Just one more parchment, letter, report... Small flame of the candle flickered as she reached for the next paper. Her hand trembled before she touched it with the quill. Impulsively, she wrote just two words.
Come home.
***
The summer was ending and turning into the autumn when she felt his arms around her again. The inner turmoil she felt since she sent that letter silenced immediately when she saw him riding through the gate. His embrace was warm and firm; Jon was wearing furs that she made him, but they were battered and ripped off in a few places. But it didn’t matter, she will make him new ones, better suited for the weather behind the wall. After a moment, Jon dropped his hands and stepped back. Then, to her surprise, he kneeled.
“My Queen” he rasped, a smile evident in his voice. Sansa had to bite her lip to stop herself from smirking.
“Jon” she said coming closer and touching his shoulders lightly to make him rise. “I thought your kind doesn’t kneel before anyone?” she asked, quirking her brow.
“Only for you, Your Grace.”
***
Jon was different. Not a trace of a boy was left in him. He was strong, confident, he emanated grace, the years behind the wall made him sure of himself, of his role and his ability to lead. Sansa watched him from above, as he walked through the courtyard, speaking with men, as she asked him to do. People were respectfully bowing before him, even as he constantly tried to correct them. It would be more efficient to just let them be, but he was relentless.
Sansa smiled. There were also different features that caught her attention. Longer hair, maybe it would be better if she cut them; little limp when he walked, has he been injured? She will have to ask him about it. Changed manner of speaking, surely Tormund and his men rubbed off on him. His upper body was leaner, but still strong. Again, even his presence was waking the feelings she fought to temper down, to lock in the box to be forgotten.
Jon turned around, possibly sensing her stare and raised his hand. There was warm feeling spreading in her chest, her lungs suddenly too little to breath freely. She managed to smile in response.
“Your Grace?” a little dazed, Sansa looked at her maester. Oh yes. She had to keep going. There will be plenty of time tonight. For now, she left her place and her daydreams to brave the real world.
***
She knew there were whispers. She took the majority blame on herself, her people surely noticed she behaved different around Jon. More freely. Like she had something to live for. Sansa was sometimes wondering, lying in her bed, if he also had noticed. Jon wasn’t a fool, as he sometimes described himself, but he could be quite oblivious. But others weren’t. She never heard anything, but she saw the looks they gave her when they were together. They already treated Jon as a king, maybe this was a natural progression?
She wanted it to be. Gods, how much she wanted.
But she noticed he was getting restless again. And she had nothing to offer him. Nothing besides herself. But he didn’t want her.
Sudden knocking tore her from unsettling thoughts. She frowned. Who could it be in this hour? Lately, the North was calm, there was no trouble that couldn’t wait until she got a few hours of sleep. Unless...
She got out of bed. And behind the doors was the last person she expected. Though maybe she should have known.
“Jon?”
For a moment he didn’t say anything, he just looked, and for the first time since they reunited, she couldn’t read him. Sansa squirmed under his gaze, nervous all the sudden. She wringed her hands but didn’t say anything.
Good wives didn’t question their husbands.
But he wasn’t her husband, he wasn’t her King, he wasn’t...
“Sorry” his voice tore through her thoughts. Sansa looked at him again. He was hunched over, almost making himself smaller than her and shifted form foot to foot, like he was lost.
But it didn’t make sense. It was Winterfell. It was their home.
“I just... I think I will leave soon” he said abruptly and send her thoughts spiralling again, deep into the darkest part of her. The demons she tried to lock up and throw away the key came back just as easily this time, when she watched Jon smiling sadly and slowly turning away from her.
Everyone always leaves. Everyone leaves her, and she will always be alone, she is never enough, not for anyone, not for him...
Her hand catched his wrist before she can even think about it, as if her instinct knew better what she needed. Jon stopped and turned back, eyeing her hand, still tightly holding his.
“Sansa?”
“Stay” she whispered, uninvited tears welling in her eyes. The air was thick with tension and she had problem with swallowing against gulp in her throat.
Maybe there will never be the right time. Maybe he didn’t want her. But she was tired, oh so tired of holding back around him.
“Stay with me.”
She knew he didn’t understand what she meant. She loosened her grip and drew small circles on his wrist. The silence was interrupted with loud hitch in his breath. He slowly raised his hand, touching her cheek, looking for any reaction, any sign of discomfort. Sansa leaned into his careful touch and smiled, just a little, as she let herself get lost in this moment. When she looked up and met his eyes, she could only see love and adoration. Had she really been so blind?
She didn’t know how long they stayed that way. But when she asked again, he accepted eagerly. And the next spring the North welcomed new Stark, a beautiful girl, Lyanna, along with their Queen and King.