"You think it's really Tyrion?" Sansa asked looking up from the letter Tyrion had sent them. "It could be someone trying to lure you into a trap."
Jon was stood near the railing looking out on the yard where Theon helped some of the children train in archery. "Read the last bit."
"All dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes," she read. "What does that mean?"
"It's something he said to me the first night we met." Jon tapped the railing before turning to her. "You know him better than any of us, what do you think?"
She stared at him a moment, surprised he would bring up her first marriage, sham that it was. With a glance to the letter she shook her head. "Tyrion's not like the other Lannisters. He was always kind to me… but it's too great a risk." Looking back down to the letter she read, "The seven kingdoms will bleed as long as Cersei sits on the Iron Throne. Let us unite. Together we can end her tyranny."
Davos reached for it, taking the chance to look it over again. "Sounds like a charmer. Of course the casual mention of a Dothraki horde, a legion of Unsullied and three dragons… a bit less charming." He paused, brow rising slightly.
"What?" asked Jon.
Davos looked to him. "Fire kills wights, you told me. What breaths fire?"
Jon turned back to the yard while Sansa looked to Davos. "You're not suggesting Jon meet with her?"
"No," Davos said quickly. "Too dangerous."
"But?" Jon said, and Sansa couldn't help but smile thinking back on their conversation about everything before but being bullshit.
"What if the army of the undead makes it past the Wall. Do we have enough men to fight them?"
Looking to the yard he saw Theon helping a boy keep his grip steady, hitting the second ring from the bullseye and cheering. When the boy thanked Theon, he saw the broken man smile and bow his head as he moved to the next boy.
"I can't leave," Jon said turning to them. "I need to be here for when all the riders arrive… but I can't let her come here."
Sansa frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I can't go there and end up stuck on an island when I'm expected to be here to prove our cause and I can't have her come here and risk her dragons burning us all." Jon crossed his arms. "There's got to be some compromise. Somewhere for us to meet in the middle."
"White Harbor?" Davos offered.
"Too many people," Jon said quickly. "It'll need to be somewhere out of the way but not some field where we have to camp."
Sansa closed her eyes, picturing a map of Westeros. "Widow's Watch," she said looking to Jon. "It's far east of White Harbor, less populated but still an impressive castle. It's right on the peninsula between the Shivering Sea and the Bite. She could sail there from Dragonstone and you wouldn't be trapped on an island, but she could always flee if you tried something."
Davos thought on it, his northern geography not as quick as Sansa's. "Should be a fair spot. A travel for both of you."
They looked to Jon as he thought it over. "Write to the Flints at Widow's Watch," he told Davos. "We'll leave in three days. If we ride hard we could arrive within a week or so. When could they arrive from Dragonstone?"
"By the time they get the raven?" Davos took a moment to think. "Around the same time as you, depending on winds."
Turning to Sansa he asked, "Could you occupy anyone who arrives until I'm back?"
"I won't go with you?"
Jon smiled solemnly. "Sansa, if anything happens to me, you're my heir. Then Rickon." Bran had made it clear he wouldn't be a lord, a prince or a king. He was the three-eyed raven.
Her surprise was short lived, Sansa's brow sinking as she stepped forward. "You've only done that so I have to stay."
"I've done this because I trust you, we share Stark blood, and you'll be queen if I don't die before wedding you."
Sansa's jaw shifted, pouting before she gave a relenting sigh. "How long will you be gone?"
"A week there, a week for talks, a week back? Maybe a month?" Jon looked to Davos, who nodded uncertainly.
"Should I wait for your return before showing them everything?"
Jon smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Whatever you think is best, I trust your judgment, Sansa."
Another letter from Sam complicated the upcoming meeting with Daenerys as they now had to find a way to get her to let them have the dragonglass beneath Dragonstone.
For a moment Sansa had wondered if they could have those that had originally been ready to pledge to Jon mine it without her noticing, but she felt a fool the moment it came to mind. Jon had looked at her confused by her sudden laugh as she imagined the people of Dragonstone setting up a mine with none of her people noticing, thinking the sounds mice that plagued the keep.
Thankfully the lords seemed to accept Jon naming her his heir, though it helped when he told them should he die to consider her Queen in the North. Their desire for independence had lessened with the prospect of a king raised in the north, but without him they'd want someone to stand for them. Sansa found herself more pleased with his clear trust and respect for her than the idea of being queen. She'd seen what being king did to him.
They had taken to meeting nearly every night in his solar. More than a few times he'd spent the first five to twenty minutes of their time finishing up at his desk. Sometimes he'd ask her to look over things for him, give him a second opinion. Other times she found he let her talk, listening as he always did, quiet as ever, yet she could see how exhausted he was. There had even been a handful of times where she excused herself because she noticed him fighting to stay awake and listen to her.
They'd moved their seats closer to each other in front of his hearth, letting her sit with her head on his shoulder, their hands entwined on the neighboring arms of their chairs. Occasionally while they sat, after he took a drink or during silences, he would pull her hand up and lean down to kiss the back of it.
There were plenty of times where that would lead to her turning to kiss the base of his neck, which made him turn to catch her lips, and then things would end with them stripped to their small clothes. This night, before he left for Widow's Watch, she simply squeezed his hand and reached over to place her right hand on his arm, snuggling as close as she could.
"Do you remember when we were children? I remember you always used to play Ryam Redwyne and Aemon Targaryen. Not kings, but gallant knights, legends in their time."
"I never even imagined I could have this," he said letting his thumb rub the back of her hand.
"I wish I could go back and play with you, just so I'd have more memories of you then. I could have been Naerys. I could have had you be the Florian to my Jonquil instead of Robb."
"I think he would have murdered me for steeling his place," Jon said with a laugh.
Sansa laughed quietly, rubbing her head against his shoulder with a sigh. "I wish I hadn't wasted so much time."
Jon turned his head to place a kiss on the crown of her head. "What do you mean?"
"I wasted so much time dreaming of a different life with a golden haired prince when all I ever wanted was here. A man who's brave, gentle, strong, everything a knight should be. One who makes me feel complete, even with Lady gone. Who makes me feel like every time they humiliated me or beat me never mattered or was worth it because in some way they brought me here.
"I wish I could go back to that little girl and tell her to stop being such an idiot. To stop following her mother and see you for what you really are. If I did, if I hadn't been so blinded by my need to be everything my mother wanted, I've no doubt I would never have gone south. I never would have let you go to the Wall. I would have run away with you if they tried to stop us."
"I'm sure that would dispel your mother's worries about me," Jon said with a smirk. "A bastard stealing away his younger half-sister."
"We might have suspected the truth sooner."
Jon groaned. "You too?"
Sansa grinned. "It's too easy. Blame your ancestors."
Shaking his head he glanced at her. "I wish I'd have known earlier as well," he said quietly. "I… I used to wish I was closer to you. I hated that I was an embarrassment to you and your family. Part of me hated every time you went to Robb for help when you were scared or in trouble. I wanted to be there for you as much as he was, but I knew I couldn't. It's part of why Arya was such a relief for me.
"She always acted like she was a boy, but then she'd get scared and cling to my leg and I felt like a big brother again. I felt like someone needed me, that me existing made someone's life better for once."
Sansa's hand squeezed his, raising her head and turning to him with tears in her eyes as she reached up to stroke his cheek and make him look at her. "You've made my life so much better, Jon. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Jon frowned, leaning in to kiss her quickly. "I'm sorry I'm leaving."
"I know you have to," she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder again.
They sat in silence for a long moment before she spoke again.
"I've heard she's beautiful." Feeling him shift to look at her and picturing his questioning look she clarified, "Daenerys."
"So are you."
Sansa closed her fingers around his hand to stroke the back. "What if she wants an alliance through marriage?"
"I'm already getting married to the most beautiful woman in Westeros," he said resting his cheek on her head. "I won't give her up, not even if it's for the most beautiful woman in Essos."
Sansa frowned. "It would be unwise to not consider it. She has armies and three dragons. We'll need them, not just to take Westeros but when the Night King comes."
Suddenly she felt him shift and was pulled into his lap, facing him. "Sansa," he said meeting her eyes. "The only thing that could stop me from marrying you is you not wanting it. And not just because you're trying to do the right thing, but because you truly don't want to. Is that the case?"
"Of course not," she said firmly.
"Then I'm marrying you." His hand slid into her hair, pushing her close enough for him to catch her lips in his.
Her fingers dug into his tunic, both to keep herself steady and feel his chest beneath, feeling the rise and fall of it once they parted. With a sigh she turned, resting her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her.
After another long silence he noticed a sly smile take her lips, the kind she got when she knew she'd found a way to prove a point and win an argument. After a moment she noted, "Your name is Aegon."
"It is," Jon nodded.
"Aegon had two wives."
Jon stared at her. At first he'd thought her teasing, but there was no hint of it in her tone or face. Then he wondered if it could be some kind of test. A way to challenge his commitment to her, but that didn't quite make sense, and didn't seem like something she'd do. Maybe when she was younger she might have been that kind of girl, but not now.
With no idea how to answer, he decided to go with facts. "They were both his sisters. I don't have sisters."
Since he was trying to avoid a proper response, she teased, "Are you suggesting you'd like Arya as a second wife?"
Jon shivered dramatically. "Uck."
"I'm going to tell Arya that was your reaction," she snickered.
"She'd probably retch." Jon tightened his grip around her waist. "It's different with her."
"I know," Sansa nodded slightly. "But it won't be like that with your aunt either. She's just a person who happens to have a Dothraki horde, a legion of Unsullied and three dragons that would help us survive."
"Sansa I… I can't just marry someone to gain their allegiance. I couldn't make her suffer through some loveless marriage where she knows I only took her because of what she could give us."
"Then don't," Sansa said sitting up to meet his eyes. "But if you feel anything toward her think on it and if you think it best, offer it to her."
He searched her eyes for anything that told him she was forcing this. That some part of her was closed off, crying, wishing he'd use this as a chance to proclaim his love for her in some dramatic way. Instead he found only honest support, trust in whatever decision he made.
"If that's what you think is best," he said with a solemn nod. "I'll think on it when I meet her."
"If you find you have some love for her," she said letting her fingers brush through his beard while keeping her eyes on his, "then so be it. I'd rather share you and have us live happily than risk dying and damning everyone to their deaths for the sake of propriety. Whatever happens, I am yours and you are mine."
Jon smiled, pressing his lips to hers as he whispered, "I am yours and you are mine."
"Do you have to?" Rickon asked, frowning at Jon.
"I do," Jon nodded. "I need to see if I can convince her to help us. And if not… well then I'll have to figure out how to steal her dragons." When Rickon chuckled, Jon glanced across the field to where Lyanna Mormont was stood with a group of free folk girls.
"Tormund's at Eastwatch and I'll be gone," Jon said with a teasing smile. "You'll watch over Johnna and Willa for me? Make sure they're okay."
Sansa smirked seeing her baby brother's cheeks go red, nodding. "I will."
"Good," Jon said looking to Ghost beside Rickon. "And you'll take care of Ghost for me, right?"
"I will, I promise."
He glanced at Sansa before conspiratorially telling Rickon, "Make sure he doesn't have bows in his fur if she brushes him."
"He's going to be covered in them now," Sansa told him. "You as well."
Jon shot her a knowing smirk which she returned, feeling the blue ribbon beneath his glove as he moved to Bran, who looked up from the chair Wolkan built for him. "I'll keep an eye on you."
"I'm sure you will," Jon laughed. "Don't get lost. You're needed more here than you are there."
Bran tilted his head before nodding. "I'll try."
Stepping to Sansa, he took her hands and kissed her fingers. "I'll do all I can to return to you."
Sansa smiled sadly. "I know you will. I'll miss you every day."
"And I you."
Sansa made her way to the walls to watch Jon ride off with Davos, Melisandre, his squire Willam Snow and a dozen others. Behind them was a cart holding one of the crates brought back from the Wall.
Rickon looked at her and seeing the tears glistening in her eyes clutched her hand with a supportive smile.
Coming back to the courtyard Bran sat waiting for her. "He'll be back."
A smirk flickered across her lips. "You see that in your visions?"
Shaking his head, Bran said simply, "I know Jon."
The sky had been clear all day sailing south until night came and with it the storm. Dark clouds blocked the moon and left the sky without stars. Lesser men might have been lost, but they were ironborn and Yara's ships continued their course to Dorne.
She found herself below deck enjoying Ellaria's dornish invasion when the ship rocked. Yara leapt to her feet, pulling up and tying her breeches as she made her way to the stairs. "Stay here," she told Ellaria, pulling her sword from it's sheath on the barrel of ale.
Coming to deck she found her men rushing to put out fires and made her way toward the thunder she heard. Back by crackling lightning she saw the outline of the ship and knew. "Euron."
Silence rammed into their ship and the spiked corvus sank onto the deck with Euron roaring, riding it down. The moment it was embedded her uncle charged forward and cut through one of her men. Taking them all in he laughed in anticipation of the slaughter to come.
Yara cut through man after man and told Tyene to keep her mother safe below deck. She saw her fleet aflame as catapulted firebombs streaked through the sky. She saw the mast of her ship snap and burn as it fell to deck. She saw Euron run Obara's spear through her and choke the life from Nymeria with her whip. She saw his men carrying a struggling Tyene and Ellaria toward his ship. She saw him below and jumped.
Euron got back to his feet after she rolled away. "Give your uncle a kiss," he said and she smacked him.
He busted her lip with the side of his axe, snapped her sword on the deck, and then punched her again and again and again until he charged forward, forcing her against the stairs.
Yanked to her feet as Euron held her throat while pressing his axe against it, Yara thought of Theon. She wished she could have saved him. No doubt he was dead. If not from Ramsay then surely he'd been killed by the Starks and their King Aegon. He'd betrayed them, so they'd take his head.
For a moment she wondered if she'd get to feast in the Drowned God's watery halls with Theon, but then Euron threw her to one of his men. He wouldn't kill her, and she knew that she was worse for it.
She saw his crewmen cutting the tongues from hers, heard the rumors of the things he'd done to his own brothers. Euron had no qualms about kinslaying, but he knew there were worse things to do to someone, other taboos to break. Being dragged onto the Silence all she could do was hope to drown in the blood from her nose and mouth, let her choke and die and stay dead if only to rob Euron of whatever he intended.
But she didn't. Yara lived, and knew that had damned her worse than death.