Chapter Text
The first thing Jon noticed when she stepped out of the carriage was her hair, so fair it was nearly white. She looks like a Targaryen, he thought, or at least Lyseni. Had the Valyrian Freehold had conquered as far as Arendelle? He didn't think so, but then again, he would admit he knew very little about Arendelle—only that it was the northernmost point in Essos, west of the Isle of Ib.
Arendelle's queen was followed out by a woman with light auburn hair. Despite their dissimilar coloring, they were alike of face: large, jewel-like eyes, the same nose and chin, though the auburn-haired girl's face was perhaps a touch rounder. She stood slightly behind the queen, her eyes flicking between Jon, and Sansa who stood by his side.
"King Snow," the Queen of Arendelle greeted. Her voice was confident and her tone warm, but he could tell from the way she gripped her hands together that she was nervous—perhaps unsure how to greet a foreigner. "I had thought to meet you in your throne room."
Perhaps we should've waited there, Jon suddenly worried.
"After so long a journey to get here, we were happy to come out to greet you," Sansa said.
Their guest smiled. Though her body language betrayed her trepidation, her face and voice were perfectly schooled. She curtsied to Sansa. "The Queen in the North. How kind of you."
‘The Queen in the North.’ Had no one told Queen Elsa of Arendelle that he was unwed? How could that be? Jon had been fairly sure that was the reason this equally unmarried Essosi queen had come, even if their letters had only spoken of the threats beyond the Wall.
Behind Elsa, the other woman's eyes kept darting between Jon and Sansa, with the smallest frown of confusion. Jon forced himself not to turn to glace Sansa herself, to gauge her reaction.
"Ah, no," he corrected gently. "Queen Elsa, this is my sister, the Lady Sansa Stark."
"Ah," said the queen, as if some mystery had just been cleared up. "Of course. My apologies Lady Sansa." Elsa reached behind her and took her companion's hand, pulling her stand by her side. "This is my sister, Princess Anna."
Anna blushed slightly and looked at the ground, murmuring, "My lord, my lady."
Sansa gracefully moved past it. "You have come a long way, and you must be tired and road-weary. Come, let me show you to your chambers."
"That is very kind of you, Lady Sansa, but if it's possible I would like to speak to King Snow now. I have many questions for him about the things beyond the Wall."
"Of course."
Anna looked at her sister uncertainty, and Elsa gave her hand a squeeze, then dropped it. "Go on. See that our trunks are brought up, and I'll join you there later."
Anna nodded once, then followed Sansa out of the courtyard. As they left, the late afternoon sunlight shone on both women's hair, turning it to fire.
Jon felt a sudden pang. He wished she Sansa was not leaving, wished he was not being left alone with a queen from a land he knew almost nothing about, to negotiate an alliance he would most likely have to seal with marriage.
Elsa and Jon starred after Anna and Sansa, but it wasn't until their sisters had turned the corner out of sight that either realized they had been staring. When they did, Elsa shuffled her feet awkwardly, and Jon was sorely tempted to do the same. "You must be cold," he said quickly to cover it up. "Come, let us speak in my solar."
"The cold doesn't bother me," the queen replied, but it was merely a comment, not a protest, and she followed Jon anyways.
"Arendelle is a very small kingdom," Elsa said when Jon had finished. "Smaller than the Free Cities, you understand? I will not ask any of my people to come to a foreign land and fight in your war. If other northern places are truly at risk, as you fear, then they will be needed back home.
"But," she continued, just as Jon's heart was sinking, "we do well in trade. We can bring grain from Essos—not a lot, let me be clear, but enough to perhaps ease the pain of the South's blockade. And you spoke of needing Valyrian steel. I believe I have a few pieces of Valyrian steel in the treasury back in Arendelle. I have no need of them. These I can give to you."
This was as good as he could've hoped, from a kingdom of Arendelle's size. When he spoke, Jon was so overcome with gratitude that his voice wavered for a second. "Thank you."
He put his hands on the desk to steady himself. Then in an overly calm voice, whose measured nature belied his nervousness, he asked, "And what do you want in return?"
"Alliance," she said simply. "Arendelle is a very small kingdom, and we are in need of allies.
"Of course," Jon nodded. He pushed himself to ask, "If there a specific reason you need allies now?"
Elsa blushed. "Yes. There may... I fear there will be an issue with the Southern Isles."
"The Summer Isles?"
"No, the Southern Isles."
"Where is that?"
"Do you have a map?"
"Yes, but not here. Shall I send for one?"
"Later. Westerosi maps of Essos are not very good anyways." She realized what she had said, then quickly added, "I mean no offense. I have a map in my trunk. I shall make of it a gift for you."
"There is no need."
"I insist. A gift for my new ally."
"Very well. Thank you."
"The exact location of the Southern Isles is not of terrible importance. Rather..." She hesitated, sighed, then said plainly, "I fear my sister may have caused a diplomatic problem with the Southern Islanders."
"What happened?"
"She spurred their prince."
"She turned down his offer?"
"Yes."
"Surely that's not so bad. You sister is kissed by fire—she must have many suitors, and she cannot marry them all."
"Kissed by fire?"
"It's what the—the folk from the far north call those with red hair. It's considered very beautiful and lucky."
"Like your sister."
"Yes."
Elsa opened her mouth, but closed it again. She hesitated, again opened her mouth—and again closed it without saying anything.
"What?"
"Forgive me, it's unimportant."
"No, what?"
She hesitated once more before asking, "Why isn't she Queen in the North?"
Jon looked down at his lap. "Many reasons. She is my sister—well, half-sister. The North needs both of us to marry for alliances."
"I thought Westerosi kings always married their sisters."
"No. Well, yes, but that was a Targaryen tradition, brought from Valyria." He added, "The Targaryens were the old dynasty," because he didn't know how much Elsa knew of Westerosi history—he knew almost nothing of Arendelle's. "After they were overthrown, we did away with that. They Targaryens were mad. The last king burnt men to death," he lowered his voice slightly as he explained, "among them our grandfather and uncle. We don't want to be like Targaryens."
"Then don't burn men to death," Elsa declared simply. She raised her hand for emphasis, and in a suddenly serious voice said, "Let me be clear: if you start burning men to death, our alliance is over." She dropped her hand, and her tone became conversational again. "But you could marry her without doing that."
Jon didn't respond.
Elsa continued on. "I won't claim to understand much of Westerosi politics, with your innumerable civil wars and overthrows in the last few decades—you can't expect the rest of the world to keep up with all that. But what I do know is this: the Kingdom of the North is new, and you are a legitimized bastard. You need to establish yourself as king, and taking on some traditions of past kings would not be a bad way to go about it."
"We both need to marry for alliances."
"When you wrote to me looking to form an alliance, you did not offer marriage."
Jon winced internally. He took a minute to formulate his words, trying not to offend. "As you have said yourself, Arendelle is a very small kingdom, and while I am immensely grateful to have you as an ally, two alliances with kingdoms the size of Arendelle would not be enough for the North to stand a chance in the coming war. And if each of those two alliances had each cost us a marriage, we would be left not only vulnerable, but without hope of any other alliances. I hoped that an alliance with Arendelle would not require a marriage, and that hope proved true." He sighed quietly. "But even so, I was prepared to marry you if it proved necessary. Even one small alliance is better than none."
"I said nothing of marriage in our letters."
"You decided to come all the way for Arendelle to treat with me in person."
"Because Anna wanted to come. She's been stuck at court her whole life, and it's my fault. She wanted to see more of the world and I saw no good reason to deny her." Elsa sighed. "King Snow, I do not wish to marry you. But even if I did, I would not wish to be your wife as long as Lady Sansa stands beside you looking like your queen, and with you staring longingly after her when she leaves the room. I doubt any woman would want that role. If you do get a marriage alliance, you may end up alienating your bride, and then whole alliance could suffer for that." Elsa sat back as if she had suddenly realized what she was saying, and began to backpedal. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be telling you how to form alliances. That's just my perspective on it, as a woman and an ally, and—"
Jon held up a hand. "It's alright. It is not your place to tell me who to marry. But it is a poor king who surrounds himself with sycophants, and I am glad my new ally is not that." He sighed. "Why are you not seeking alliances by marriage?"
"What?"
"You claim Arendelle needs allies. I did not offer marriage, yet neither did you. And you're seeking an ally far across the sea rather than simply having your sister marry the Southern prince."
Elsa's face flickered somehow, as then everything fell into place in Jon's mind.
"Oh," was all he could say. You know nothing, Jon Snow, his mind whispered. "You too?"
"What?"
"What did you call it—‘staring longingly after her when she leaves the room’?"
"When Lady Sansa led Anna to her rooms, yes."
"I wasn't the only one staring."
"What?"
"That's why you recognized it so easily, isn't it?"
"You were waxing poetic about how her hair is like fire!"
Jon shrugged blithely. "But you're still in love with Anna, aren't you?"
"No, I—"
"Pardon me, but I served on the Wall for years. The Night's Watch is a castle of men and only men. I know that men do not only lust after women. I cannot believe women are so different."
Elsa looked away, and took a moment to gather herself. "Alright."
"Alright?"
"Yes, I supposed it's the same. Except that you have traditions that means you could marry her, and I do not." She sighed quietly. "And so yes, perhaps that's why it's rather frustrating to see you squandering that chance."
Jon looked down, suddenly embarrassed that he had teased. "I'm sorry."
Elsa said nothing, just gave him a sad half-smile.
"Could you take her as your mistress?"
Elsa hesitated. "Theoretically, I suppose I could."
Jon wondered if that was advisable. The Targaryens had gotten away with so much by being boldly unapologetic—they were the kings, and if they saw nothing wrong with it, who would dare claim otherwise? But this? Rulers were not above reproach, and queens particularly. Jon was reminded of Queen Cersei, and then of Queen Naerys.
But they were surreptitiously sleeping with their brothers—there was paternity in question. Would anyone mind if it was two sisters? Would anyone even recognize it for what it was? Well, perhaps, if she was blatantly keeping her as her mistress. He remembered what Sansa had told him, rumors about Margaery Tyrell. But even so—
"Why don't you marry her?" Elsa asked.
Jon was started out of his musings and looked up. "I told you."
"You told me reasons. I told you they were foolish ones, and you didn't disagree. Now really: why don't you?"
Jon shifted awkwardly.
"You can. Do you understand how lucky that is? Almost no one else could, but you—you're a Westerosi king. You actually can. And yet you still don't. Why?"
She was demanding an answer. He had none to give.
Something changed in her eyes, and her voice was sympathetic when she cautiously asked, "It is unreciprocated?"
Finally, he said quietly, "I don't know." You know nothing, his mind parroted back at him.
"And?" Elsa prompted.
He gave a frustrated groan. "Have I told her? No. Does she know? I don't know. Maybe. If she knew, I wouldn't be surprised. I mean, you figured it out with minutes of meeting me. I'm clearly not very good at hiding it. But if she didn't know, I wouldn't be surprised either." He drew in a deep breath. "Might she reciprocate?" He let out the breath, slow and controlled. "I don't know. I wouldn't be surprised either way."
"You're afraid, aren't you?" There was compassion in her voice.
"Yes."
"You're afraid. The world has given you the perfect circumstances, and now you're afraid to take it. They told me stories about you on the ship, you know—about how you let the people from the far north through your wall, even though everyone said you were a fool for doing it. Adversity you can deal with but this—it's come together perfectly, and all there is is for you to tell her, and you're afraid."
He couldn't meet her eyes. "I was never supposed to be king. I was never supposed to be able to take a wife. I'm a bastard, and a crow. I don't deserve this, and I don't deserve her."
Elsa's voice suddenly turned cold. "King Snow, she is a woman. Not a prize to be won. You don't have to ‘deserve’ her."
Jon looked up, startled. The queen's eyes were icy.
"I'm sorry," he murmured.
"It is not me you need to apologize to."
"I know." He then added, slightly annoyed, "I do know some things."
Elsa looked slightly puzzled by this statement but didn't ask. "Then go."
"What?"
"Go to her. Apologize. Tell her."
"What?"
"You said you knew. Why are you confused?"
"No—I know, but..."
"But you're afraid."
"Yes!"
Her eyes softened. "Then it's a good thing you have an ally." She smiled wryly. "Truth be told, I need an ally too."
"Wait, Anna doesn't know?" He stared at her. "Everything you were saying, and you haven't told Anna either?"
She looked indignant. "Yes, but at least I know I should. I'm not pretending to myself that I don't owe it to her!"
"You kept saying, ‘You're afraid,’ when you're too afraid yourself!"
"Alright! We're both afraid! And this is why we need allies."
Jon looked at Elsa for a long moment, then at the door. "So we're actually going to go do this?"
Elsa suddenly looked rather nervous herself. "I think so," she whispered. Then she corrected herself, and in a much stronger tone, she declared, "King Snow, if you do not have the courage required to confess your love for a lady, perhaps I need to rethink my decision to unite with you in a war against the Others. Arendelle does not need craven allies, and—"
Jon started to laugh. "Alright."
"Alright?"
"Yes, alright."
Suddenly Elsa was once again the nervous one. "So we're really doing this?"
"Yes. We're really doing this. Come on." And he started for the door.
Elsa took a deep breath and followed him. "To brave allies," she said with a nervous smile.
"To brave allies."