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Chapter Text

Jon could still feel the smoke in his lungs; the memory of death and decay nearly consumed him. He could still smell them. How could he still smell them? He stumbled forward, falling to his knees and retching what little was left in his stomach. He closed his eyes, the screams filling his ears. He had fought battles and seen it all, but nothing could have compared him for what happened in the Red Keep.

The bells. The bells. The bells.

Retreat when you hear the bells. The battle will be won when you hear the bells. The innocent will be spared when you hear the bells. Cersei will have lost when you hear the bells. Daenerys will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms when you hear the bells. Those damn bells. Now Jon had to face the truth, the real, hard, ugly truth. Daenerys was a threat that he could no longer tame. She knew he didn’t love her or give her what she wanted. It didn’t matter whether he didn’t want the Iron Throne or that he had pledged loyalty to her. It wouldn’t be enough. It would never be enough. Just like the bells of surrender had not been enough.

“Jon, get up.” A gentle, yet stern voice said as Jon felt arms around him. “The Queen wants to see you.”

Jon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and opened his eyes to see Ser Davos grimacing at him. “I should clean up.” He said as he looked down at his dirty battle uniform. He had not changed out of it even though the battle had been won for many hours now.

“If you think it will help.” Davos said as he led Jon to his tent.

Jon knew Davos was feeling the same way he was. Sansa had been right all along and now they were all in danger. Jon pulled his clothes off, his whole body feeling numb. He had wished more than anything he could have just stayed in Winterfell or gone north with Tormund and Ghost. He had been so focused on the Night King that he barely had time to really register what would happen if Daenerys took the throne. He had hoped that by working together they could be allies and live in peace, but that was destroyed the moment he told Daenerys who he really was.

“Stark armor?” Davos asked as he began to clean it off for Jon. “Or would you like to fly more below the radar?”

Jon looked at the two wolves on the armor’s breastplate. The Stark sigil. Jon felt like he needed to decide. Stark or Targaryen. Could he be both? He had always wanted to be a Stark, a wolf of Winterfell. Arya and Sansa had assured him that he was no matter what, not even after finding out about his true parentage. They supported him. Believed in him. Loved him. In more ways than one. His eyes wandered over to the cloak that Sansa had made him what seemed like a lifetime ago. She had been the one to tell Tyrion who he was. He should have been angry, but for some reason when Varys had spoken with him he had the smallest understanding that Sansa was playing the game. She was protecting her family. She was protecting him. He should have been more honesty with Sansa. Let her know that he was playing the game too. That he felt like he could control Daenerys and he alone could save them from her desire for fire and blood.

The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.

Now he needed his pack more than ever. He needed to be a wolf and a dragon. He knew he could not wear the cloak. He knew Danearys wanted to talk about Sansa and he did not want to draw attention to the Lady of Winterfell more than what already would be. He had to be careful and plan his moves cautiously. Daenerys was dangerous and Jon saw exactly what she would do to people that betrayed her.

“I’ll wear the Stark armor.” Jon finally said.

“I suspect we’re not out of the great game yet.” Davos said as he helped outfit Jon. “I saw the way Greyworm looked at you when you tried to call the forces back.”

“Out of the frying pan…” Jon mumbled.

“And right into the fucking dragon fire.” Davos finished as he threw Jon a worried glance. “Is there anything I should know before we whether this next storm together?” He asked seriously as his eyes trained on Jon for any sort of reaction.

Jon felt his breath catch in his throat. He knew he could trust Davos with his life, but he also knew this secret could kill him. He was already terrified of what Daenerys might do to Sansa, Arya, Bran, or Sam because they knew. Because it was no longer a secret. It was information. Not telling Davos and keeping him in the dark seemed like a terrible choice as well. How could Davos advise him if he didn’t know everything? How could Jon hope to possibly keep his family and the North safe if he didn’t have his allies by his side?

Davos could see a war raging in Jon’s mind and Davos felt himself smile sadly as he looked at his friend. “I’m not going to like whatever you have to say, am I?” He asked as a way to ease the tension.

“Do you ever like what I have to say?” Jon asked in return, his own smile gracing his lips for the briefest of moments.

“Nope.” Davos said as he clasped his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “But that’s never stopped me from following you before.”

-

Daenerys stood just in front of Jon, her back to him, Tyrion flanking her right and Greyworm to her left. The ruins of Kings Landing lay before her and Jon could still see smoke rising just in front of them. At first he had thought winter had finally reached them, but after a closer look Jon realized, with horror, that it was ash, not snow falling down around them. In a sick way it made him miss Winterfell that much more, although, he knew it was covered in ash too. He remember when he first met Daenerys. That nervous energy of two important people meeting for the first time and not knowing whether he would come out of it alive. Back then the only thing that mattered was the Night King. He had needed dragon glass and allies. He had still been a bastard and the King in the North. Now the Night King was gone. Cersei was gone. Whatever relationship he had with Daenerys was gone too. All Jon felt was fear and the desire to keep the people he loved safe. The fear was good, he told himself. Fear kept you alive.

“Your grace.” Jon said with a clear of his throat to grab her attention. He had not seen her since they had declared victory over King’s Landing. Victory. That’s what she called it when she had made her speech to the Unsullied, the Northern Army, and the Dothraki. Jon had been too busy puking to remember the rest. Now he stood like a King, brave and strong. He couldn’t let her see his weakness. He wouldn’t let her exploit it. “You called for me.”

Daenerys turned as did the rest of her party. Greyworm looked calm and stoic, while Tyrion looked downright devastated, but was trying to put on a brave face for his queen, if that's what she still was to him anyway. He was almost surprised he didn’t see that hint of madness in her eyes. Her expression, for once, was almost unreadable. Jon braced himself for the worst.

“I did not see you standing by your men during my victory speech.” She noted, her voice cool and distant.

“Forgive me, your grace,” Jon said as he sucked in a deep breath, “I was not feeling well.” Jon saw Davos look at him out of the corner of his eye, but Jon’s eyes remained frozen on Daenerys. It wasn’t a lie. After the battle Jon felt himself dissociate, wandering the tents without rhyme or reason. He had felt everything and nothing all at once. He nearly walked into the sea and he almost wish he had. There was no one to bring him back, he could finally rest. Sansa’s smile flashed across his mind along with the sound of Arya’s laugh and he immediately pulled himself back into reality. “I am sure it was one to remember.” He added, forcing a smile.

Daenerys did not respond right away and he could feel the tension between them. He wondered if she would let him return home, but he knew in his bones that was not the reason she had called him here. “Now that our enemies are dead we must look towards the future. We need to rebuild King’s Landing.” Daenerys said as she took a step forward. It was a reasonable thought. Jon was so tired of war and destruction. “For now Dragonstone will be where the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms resides until it is safe to live in King’s Landing.”

“A wise decision, your grace.” Jon said evenly. There was no hint of danger yet, but he knew what was coming. Daenerys had been saying her name ever since they had arrived at Winterfell. She knew who told Tyrion the truth. She burned Varys for it. Daenerys’ eyes bore into him for a moment, before they softened and he wondered if he still had any sway over her. He had thought it had ended when she had chosen fear over love.

“It will be a long and difficult road,” Daenerys said more gently as she closed the distance between herself and Jon, “but we will build a better world together, like I promised.” She was mere inches from him and for a moment he believed her, truly did. Maybe this was a new beginning and they could make things better. Maybe the North could be safe and his family protected. The moment was only a moment and Daenerys’ lips fell into a snarl that reminded Jon of the dragon she rode as she said, in a low growl, “But first bring me Sansa Stark.”

Jon’s chin dipped to his chest and he brushed his head to the side, his teeth grinding as he tried to keep a neutral face. “Will she be your prisoner?” He asked carefully. He didn’t want to awaken the beast, but he knew that if it was Sansa that she was after he could no longer straddle the line between alliances.

Daenerys didn’t answer right away as her eyes hovered over Jon’s face. “Not if she bends the knee to the rightful Queen.” She answered. “She is your family and now is the time to rebuild, not destroy. All will be forgiven,” Daenerys finished with a forced smile, “when she bends the knee.”

Jon knew Sansa would not bend the knee. He knew that Daenerys knew that as well. She said she wanted to forgive, to rebuild, and create alliances and harmony among the Seven Kingdoms that included the North. Killing Sansa would ruin any chance of reconciling with the North, but she had burned down King’s Landing. Cleansed it. What would stop her from cleansing the North, too? “What if she refuses?” Jon asked because they were still in the great game and he was standing right on the front lines.

“How can she when her half brother,” Daenerys paused before she corrected herself, “her cousin and his men are in my grasp?”

She brushed past Jon, their shoulders bumping and Jon could feel his heart in his throat. After everything he had done for her and she was using him against Sansa. Hadn’t he played by her rules? Hadn’t he renounced his title as King in the North and his legacy as a trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lynna Stark so as not to be her enemy? He had tried so hard to love her despite his heart wanting someone else, but she knew the truth or, at least she had suspected it. Sansa was a threat. Arya was a threat. The North was a threat and so was he.

“Am I your prisoner?” He asked, not facing her. “Are my men your prisoners?” He could feel her stop and turn and look at him. He slowly turned and this time his face had hardened and if he were a wolf his teeth would be bared.

“Not yet.” Her voice was finale and that was the end of the conversation.

Jon watched her go and after a moment he felt someone ram him hard in the other shoulder and turned swiftly to watch as Greyworm passed, throwing a sideways glance towards Jon. Jon felt his chest heaving as he tried to remain calm. Tyrion came to a stop at Jon’s side, his hands behind his back.

“I’ll be sending the formal invitation to the Lady of Winterfell this evening. There are ravens on the southeast side of the camp.” Tyrion stated calmly “Near your tent.” Jon looked down at Tyrion, who still had that look of devastation and exhaustion in his eyes. Tyrion’s mouth turned down in a grimace as he looked at Jon. “Better hurry before they’re gone.”

It was all Tyrion could offer before he followed Daenerys and Greyworm, not wanting to draw attention to his lateness. He threw one last look at Jon, cocking his blond eyebrow, before he was off after his Queen. Davos was by Jon’s side instantly.

“Plan?” Davos asked quietly as he looked at Jon. “Because we’re definitely in the fucking fire now.”

Jon threw the ashes and smoke of King’s Landing a look before stomping off towards his tent, Davos in tow. Tyrion had given him a warning and an opportunity to warn Sansa, but he didn’t really know what to do after that. Sansa was not one to back down, but he didn’t see how they were going to get out of this alive without bending to Daenerys’ will. Maybe he could convince Sansa to run away. Maybe they could escape together, with Arya, and rid themselves of Westeros and every terrible memory that went with it. He thought of Sansa walking through a field of wildflowers, a crown of them on her fiery head. It brought a smile to his face, but it was a sad smile. He knew that could never be. Not after they had fought so hard to return to Winterfell, to go home. He knew Sansa and Arya would never abandon the people of the North. He needed time to think, but there wasn’t time to spare. He threw open the door to his tent, turning towards Davos to speak, when another, smaller voice cut him off.

“Sansa was right.”

Jon nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned to see Arya sitting in one of the chairs by the war table. She was covered in ash and dust, and she was bleeding from the head. Jon moved over to her, placing his hands on either side of her face.

“Arya, what happened?” He asked.

Arya focused her eyes on Jon as if seeing him, feeling his hands on her face, brought her back from the vivid nightmare that was King’s Landing.

“Sansa was right.” Arya repeated, but there was more strength in her voice, and she narrowed her eyes, like she was trying to figure out where Jon’s loyalties lie.

“I know.” Jon said with a short nod of his head. “And now we’re in danger.” He felt Arya relax slightly and he pulled her into a hug. It felt good to hold on to her in the midst of everything. A little part of Winterfell in the middle of all of this hell.

“She doesn’t know I’m here.” Arya said when Jon pulled back. He wasn’t sure if she was referring to Daenerys or Sansa. He felt she probably meant both.

“I’m sure Sansa will notice eventually.” He said with a small smile tugging on his lips. Even in the midst of everything he could imagine the scolding scowl that had come to Sansa’s face when she realized Arya was missing.

“Your queen doesn’t like Sansa and Sansa doesn’t very much like your queen.” Arya stated.

“She’s not my-” Jon cut himself off. He didn’t know who could be listening, but he saw Arya give a look of understanding and he nodded his head again, agreeing with her. Silence filled the tent as they all stared past each other, lost in thought.

“So what do we do?” Davos asked finally, when he couldn’t stand the silence anymore. Jon looked up at Davos, but it was Arya’s voice that supplied the answer.

“We send a raven to Sansa.” Both men looked at her, Jon wondering how she could have possibly heard Tyrion’s warning, but he didn’t question it because he was desperate for an answer. “We send a raven to Sansa and hope that she’s already ten steps ahead of us.”

-

“A raven, Lady Sansa.” Maester Wolkan said as he held out a small script of paper for Sansa to take.

Sansa’s slender fingers wrapped around the scroll, holding it delicately in her hand, the Targaryen crest standing out in the bright, red wax. She was quiet, avoiding the eyes of Brienne and Yohn Royce. She barely had time to explain the previous scroll she had received only moments ago and even less time to process it all. Things that she did know for sure; King’s Landing had been destroyed, Cersei and Jamie Lannister were dead, and Daenerys had taken full control. She remained calm and poised as she slowly unrolled it, already knowing what would be awaiting her. Her eyes ran over the familiar writing of Tyrion Lannister and she wondered if he still believed in his Queen.

“My Lady,” Brienne asked hesitantly when Sansa did not speak after several moments, “what does it say?”

Sansa’s eyes briefly flitted over to Brienne. She knew that Brienne would follow her anywhere as her sworn sword and she trusted the knight more than anyone. When Brienne found out about Jamie it broke Sansa’s heart. The knight had tried to put on a brave face since hearing the news, but Sansa knew her better than that. Despite it all Brienne was still by Sansa’s side and right now she needed her more than ever.

“It is a summoning from Queen Daenerys.” Sansa said as he eyes breezed over the words again. “She would like me to journey to Dragstone to bend the knee and swear mine and the North’s loyalty to her.” There was a tense silence before she continued. “The Queen also wants me to remember that the Warden of the North, Jon Snow, and his men are within her reach.”

“It is a threat.” Yohn Royce said, his usually stoic features breaking to reveal the disgust in the words he spoke.

“So it would seem.” Sansa said as she lowered the scroll, her eyes focusing on the fire before them. She needed time to think, but time was not on her side. “Jon isn’t the only one there.”

Everyone looked at her, but it was Brienne’s eyes that Sansa met. “Arya.” The knight said softly, her eyebrows knitting in concern.

“Luckily,” Sansa said as she came around the table, placing the scroll from Tyrion down, and heading towards the fireplace, “it would seem that no one knows that Arya is there, maybe besides Jon.”

Brienne, Royce, and Wolkan all exchanged a look before facing Sansa again. Royce cleared his throat, “How do you know that, my lady?”

Sansa held the other scroll in her hand tightly. It was the link to Arya and Jon. The words that awakened the wolf within her. Teeth bared, wild, savage, and free. “The pack survives.” Sansa whispered allowed as she unrolled the small piece of paper to see Arya’s handwriting scribbled just big enough for her to read.

“What does it mean?” Maester Wolkan asked.

“It means,” Sansa said as she turned to them, fierce determination in her eyes, a queen of wolves, “that Jon and Arya are in danger and that we are going to fight for the North.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone looked at each other before Royce cleared his throat and asked, “And how do we go about doing that, my lady?”

Sansa’s gaze turned sharply to Bran, the latter had been silent during the whole meeting. His eyes slowly turned towards Sansa and a look of understanding passed between them. Sansa knew that Bran was no longer really Bran, but the Three Eyed Raven, or whatever he called it, but maybe somewhere, deep down, a wolf lingered.

“We need ravens,” Sansa said as she turned to Maester Wolkan, “lots of ravens.” Maester Wolkan nodded and left the room as Sansa turned to Royce and Brienne. “Brienne, I don’t think Tormund has left for the wall yet, can you fetch him and bring him to me?”

“Of course, my lady.” Brienne said as she headed out of the room, Pod at her heels.

“The Vale stands behind you, my lady.” Royce said as he puffed up his chest. “I shall inform Lord Arryn and bring him to your cause immediately.”

Sansa thanked him as he left the room and soon she was alone with Bran, her mind still running a million miles a minute. She had half a plan forming, but wasn’t exactly sure what to do once they arrived down South. Daenerys still had one dragon left and he had decimated King’s Landing. She knew he would easily cut through any forces she brought if the Dragon Queen chose to do so. They would need to talk with the Queen, convince her that keeping Jon Snow and the North as ransom was not in her best interest, but how?

“We’re going to need Samwell Tarly.” Bran’s monotonous voice rang out in the silence, as if he had been reading Sansa’s mind. She looked at him again, arching an eyebrow. “We are approaching a crossroads,” Bran continued, “that will determine the fate of the Starks, the North, and all of Westeros.”

“And which direction are we leaning towards?” Sansa asked. She couldn’t start second guessing herself now, not when there was so much at stake. She could be making all the wrong choices and end up getting herself and her family killed, but her instincts told her to be strong and fight.

“The future is uncertain, but the Starks will endure.” Bran said. Before Sansa could say anymore the door opened and she turned to see Tormund, Brienne, and Pod file into the room, Tormund giving her a curious look.

“You summoned me, my lady?” He asked with an amused tone. Sansa had grown to like the wildling in the time they had spent together. It was clear that he cared deeply about Jon and he had helped take their home back. Sansa was grateful for the Wildlings and hoped to keep them and the North united for the years to come.

“I know you plan on returning home with your people,” Sansa started carefully, she knew she was asking too much of him and the freefolk, they had already fought and bled so much for the North, “and I understand if you were to leave as planned…” She paused, wondering how best to phrase her next words.

“But…” Tormund said as he watched her, his eyes still curious.

Sansa faced him fully, his red hair and beard wild around his face, she loved the color. Maybe it was why she had grown to like him so quickly. They were both kissed by fire. “Jon is in trouble and I need your help.”

Tormund’s face fell into a deep frown. “The Dragon Queen?” He asked. “I thought she was in love with him.”

The words stung Sansa more than they should. Her petty jealousy had been pushed aside as soon as she knew Jon was in danger. She couldn’t help, but notice how beautiful Daenerys was and the way her eyes would watch Jon as he commanded a room. She had heard the rumors, of course, of Jon and Daenerys’ relationship and when she had asked Jon if he bent the knee to save the North or because he loved her, well, she never really got a proper answer. Jon skirted around the question, focusing his attention on the Night King and the Army of the Dead. Maybe he did love her or maybe he didn’t. She cursed herself for feeling anything more than platonic love when he looked at her for a little too long or when he had held her that night at Castle Black. She had sworn she would never let a man break her heart again, but Jon was not like most men. He was everything her father had once promised to her. Someone who was brave, gentle, and strong. He had promised to never let Ramsey touch her, to protect her, and he had kept that promise and in return she had fought for him. The shame of having feelings for her half brother, a cursed parallel to Cersei, had melted away when she had learned the truth about his parentage. She had done what she thought was right by telling Tyrion.

“If she really loved him she wouldn’t threaten his life or force the North to bend the knee to her.” Sansa said sharply.

Tormund was silent for a moment and Sansa held her breath. If he refused her offer she wouldn’t hold it against him, but she needed as many people united together if they were to make a stand. “You and Jon want the North to be free?” He asked thoughtfully.

“More than anything.” Sansa said fiercely.

“I’d follow Jon Snow anywhere.” Tormund said as his face pulled into a snarl. “And I’ll fight for him too.”

Sansa felt a smile curling to her lips. While it seemed like the war was over, the game had just begun.

Chapter Text

Sansa strolled through Winterfell, her eyes wandering along the faces of men and women that passed her. She was looking for one person and had a feeling she knew exactly where he was, because he simply had not left since he had arrived at Winterfell. The sound of hammer against sword filled her ears and the heat of the fires met her cheeks, but she pressed on, waiting for Gendry to turn and catch her eye. She watched him for a few moments, taking in the man that had stolen her sister’s heart. While Arya had been a mystery since she had returned home Sansa had worked a few things out and to know Arya had someone who had cared for her while she had been away for so long was something Sansa could never forget and would be grateful for. Gendry was strong and rather handsome, a bastard like Jon had once been, but fought bravely when the time came. Arya had told Sansa about his rushed proposal and while she was sure Gendry meant well, he had gone about it completely wrong. It must have run in the family, liking boys who were complete idiots sometimes.

Gendry turned and was startled to see Sansa starring at him. “My lady.” He said with a small nod of his head. He hadn’t spoken much with Sansa, all of his time and interest were invested in making dragon glass weapons and Arya. The eldest Stark sister was as beautiful as they said and what interactions he had with her were pleasant. After meeting all of the Stark siblings he could see that they truly did take after the wolves they were so named after.

“I’m surprised you did not journey with the Northern Army to help Daenerys and Jon take King’s Landing.” Sansa said as she strolled over to him, looking at his handy work.

Gendry tried to keep his face neutral, but he a small scrunch of his nose gave him away. “I figured I could be of more help here, making weapons in case they were needed.”

“The Dragon Queen made you Lord of Storm’s End,” Sansa continued, she needed to know whether he could be trusted or not, “and now that she has won, will it not be yours?”

Gendry shifted on his feet uncomfortably. He was better at swinging a hammer than dealing with politics. He knew playing in the great game never ended well for bastards like him. While he had been appreciative of Daenerys’ gesture after the hype and Arya’s rejection he had more time to mull over the decision. While he had always wanted to be someone his love for Arya and his loyalty to Jon and the Starks caused him to be wary of the Dragon Queen. “Arya doesn’t trust her.” Gendry said simply because it was true and he knew he would be safe to tell Sansa so.

Sansa’s eyebrows shot up for a moment before her face fell back into its cool façade. “Walk with me.” She requested, nodding her head towards the Godswood. Gendry laid down his tools and followed Sansa, keeping in step with her. “Do you know where Arya is now?” She asked, but her voice was a bit softer.

Gendry threw Sansa a questioning glance, but he had seen the Stark sisters together often since he had arrived at Winterfell. Whatever stories she had told them about when they were kids, always fighting and at odds with each other, was not true now. They were a united front. A smile tugged at Gendry’s lips for a moment. “I think you know, my lady.”

“Please,” Sansa said as she laid a hand on Gendry’s arm, “call me Sansa.”

Gendry nodded and they continued on to the forest where the sounds of Winterfell began to die off. Gendry had never been in the Godswood or seen the red leafed trees up close before. They were beautiful, contrasting greatly from the white snow on the ground. He knew this was a sacred place for the Starks and their family, or so Arya had told him once. Whatever Sansa had to tell him must have been important; although he had a feeling he already knew what was coming. He had heard the news about King’s Landing. He knew where Jon and Arya were. He knew how dangerous the Dragon Queen could be.

“What can I do for you, Sansa?” Gendry asked because he wanted to help. He wanted to protect Arya and Jon. Despite his rejected proposal he still loved Arya and he had grown close with Jon. The Starks had become his family in a way.

“I need your help.” Sansa began. She had sent her ravens and was gathering her army, but most of their men resided in the South and she needed to rally them when they arrived. Sansa didn’t trust ravens to send too much information. She couldn’t get anything to Jon, but Arya was a different story.

“You want to march on Dragonstone.” Gendry said thoughtfully.

Sansa gave him a half smile. He was smarter than he let on. “Jon and the North are in trouble.”

Gendry held up his hand to stop her from continuing. “For a long time I laid away in King’s Landing, hiding from my enemies. When Ser Davos found me and rallied me to the fight the Night King I didn’t question him or Jon.”

“One of the very few who believed Jon without convincing.” Sansa responded with an amused tone.

“Daenerys may have offered me a position as a high lord,” Gendry continued, “but if I had to choose between that and Arya, the Starks,” Gendry watched Sansa’s face, but it was unreadable and he understood that she was a great player and had been for years now, “well, then it’s not really a choice anymore.”

“You do realize that is treason, right?” Sansa asked, but it wasn’t accusing nor was it angry.

“I’ve never really been one to follow the rules, my lady.” Gendry responded cheekily.

That earned him a slight grin from her, before her face became serious and Gendry could really see the wolf coming out. “Will you do as I ask, even if it means you could be killed by dragon fire if we fail?”

Gendry could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up, but he nodded his head. It was time he made himself a player in the great game, no matter the consequences. “You can trust me, Sansa.”

Sansa regarded Gendry for a moment. In a lot of ways he reminded her of Jon. Fiercely protective and loyal to the ones he loved the most and she nearly forgot how much her heart ached for Jon Snow. She had been so consumed with getting her forces together and getting prepared for a fight she could very well lose that she forgot just how much she missed him. It was in these small moments that she was reminded of Jon and how, more than anything, she wanted to be wrapped up in his arms again. “I need the Northern Army.” Sansa stated, she was a wolf queen again, teeth barred. “But I can’t send word without Daenerys knowing something is happening.”

“What can I do about that?” Gendry asked confused. He didn’t really see how he was supposed to sneak an entire army out from under Daenerys’ nose.

“I have reason to believe that only Jon knows Arya is there, which means she can secure the Northern men and tell them to prepare for when we come.” Sansa explained. It was a long shot, but it was the only plan she had. Sansa was sure Daenerys’ entire army wasn’t just waiting around guarding all of the Northern forces. It would look too suspicious and cause unrest amongst the men. They were probably told they would help rebuild King’s Landing, which, in part, was probably true, but had no idea the Daenerys was holding them for ransom.

Gendry still stared at Sansa confused. What did this have to do with him? “And you would like me to make new weapons, or…”

Sansa shook her head. “I can not directly tell Arya the plan through a raven. I can only send her a message that she would understand, harmless to suspecting eyes, but everything to a wolf of Winterfell.”

Understanding overtook Gendry’s face. “You want me to meet Arya and tell her in person.”

“I know it could be dangerous,” Sansa started, “but it’s the only chance we got.”

“How will I know if Arya got the message?” Gendry asked. He was both nervous and excited at the thought of seeing Arya again, especially during a dangerous, secret mission.

Sansa looked over and Gendry nearly jumped when he realized Bran had just arrived in front of them. The Stark boy was quiet and Gendry had often seen him around the castle, quietly sitting and watching. Gendry had to admit it was slightly creepy, but he had come to learn there was nothing ordinary about any of the Starks. Sansa seemed to be the most normal and level headed of them all.

“Arya will know.” Bran said in his monotonous voice.

Gendry didn’t fully understand how she would, but the two Starks seemed to be several steps ahead of him and they had been playing for much longer. He could see why Jon liked Sansa so much. As hard as he tried to appear by the side of Daenerys Gendry could sometimes catch Jon glancing at Sansa when he thought no one was looking. It was easy to catch things when no one paid attention to you. Gendry had learned to watch the people around him because that was how you survived.

“When do I leave?” He asked looking away from Bran and back at Sansa. He made a mental note that if they survived all of this he would get to know the red wolf more. He had a feeling they could be great friends in the future.

Maybe Sansa had been thinking the same thing because a small smile curled to her lips, her blues eyes piercing him with fiery determination. “Tomorrow.”

-

Jon sat down in one of the chairs by the fire in his room at Dragonstone. It was the same one he had stayed in when he had arrived the first time. That seemed like several lifetimes ago. Things had been so different then. The only thing he had cared about was the Night King and the Army of the Dead. He never imagined that when he had convinced Daenerys to fight with him then that it would all end up in one big mess now. Part of him wished he had never left Winterfell in the first place. It seemed that constantly leaving his home always led to trouble. He had spent the day helping his men clean through the ruins of King’s Landing, like they had been the past few days. He noticed that while he was not locked up in chains, he was constantly being watched. The only time he saw Daenerys was when they dined together at dinner. He knew she was trying to keep things civil, but the air in the room always felt intense. Just yesterday he had learned Sansa would be making her way South.

“We will finally be able to build our better world when we have these matters taken care of.” Daenerys had said at dinner.

Jon did not say much. He was trying to work it out in his mind how best to protect Sansa when she came face to face with the Dragon Queen again. While he wished more than anything that he could see her face, he did not want her anywhere near Drogon or the Daenerys. He knew it would pain Sansa to return to King’s Landing where she had suffered so much abuse. He had felt guilty for not taking arms up with Robb and coming to save her from Joffrey and the golden lions and when she finally did escape she had been given to even worse monsters like Littlefinger and Ramsey. He knew Sansa was strong and she was one of the things he loved most in the world.

“The road to recovery will be long,” Jon finally said as he realized she was waiting for him to respond, “but we will get there.”

Jon rubbed his temples as a soft knock came from the door. Jon told them to come in and a serving girl stepped inside, carrying a pitcher of wine, which he was grateful for. “Thank you.” He said as he reached out to take it from her.

“The red leaf of the Weirwood tree blows South, my lord.” She said, her face calm and eyes blinking at Jon expectantly.

Jon nearly spilled wine all over himself as he looked back up at the girl. What had she said? The girl’s face broke into a wide and grin and Jon watched with amazement and horror as she reached up and began to pull at her skin. Her face came completely off and Jon was left staring at a rather amused Arya.

“How did you do that?” He asked, his mouth gaping open. He wasn’t sure if what just happened was real or not.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.” Arya simply stated as she took the pitcher from Jon, pouring herself a glass of wine before taking a seat next to him. “I learned many things in Braavos.”

Jon decided that when this was all over and if he survived he would ask Arya about her travels. “I take it Sansa knows about your…” He motioned pulling skin off of his face with his hand causing Arya to laugh.

“One of the fair few, yes.” Arya responded.

Jon had to hand it to Sansa, she was probably the most normal out of all of them and still managed to be one of the great players of the game. He had died and was brought back to life, Bran was this all seeing Three Eyed Raven, and Arya, well, she had whatever she had. “Is that how you’ve been sneaking around here unnoticed?”

“What better place to hide than right under everyone’s noses?” Arya asked as she took a sip of wine.

Jon nodded his head and he took sip from his own glass. Everything constantly felt heavy, but being with Arya was a reminder of home and what he was fighting for. “Have you heard Sansa is coming?” Jon tried to ask casually, but the worry was slipping through his tone.

Arya nodded her head. “She isn’t the only one.”

Jon looked sharply at her. “What do you mean?” He asked. He knew that if Sansa was planning anything then Arya would be the person she was communicating with. He knew it wouldn’t be safe to send him anything and yet he couldn’t help, but feel out of the loop.

“I think the less you know, the better.” Arya stated bluntly. She knew Jon would take it as a blow, but Arya wasn’t one to beat around the bush.

Jon made to argue, but he knew she was right. He trusted Arya and Sansa and if he was on a need to know bases only then he would have to live with it. He had with held so much information from them that he couldn’t expect to know everything in return, especially considering how close he was to Daenerys and how closely he was being watched by her. “Can you tell me anything?” He asked, a huff of annoyance escaping him nonetheless.

Arya smiled as she drank from her glass. “Have faith in Sansa and your family.”

Jon had remembered when he had asked the same of Sansa when he had brought the Dragon Queen home. You know I do, she had said. Her unwavering belief in him was the only thing that kept him going sometimes. She had little reason to place her trust in most people, but by some stroke of luck Jon had been someone she trusted more than most.

“I have a feeling I won’t be seeing you for a while.” Jon said, sadden by the thought.

“It would seem fate likes to keep the Starks apart.” Arya mused.

“You would think after all this time life would be a little kinder to us.” Jon murmured. He thought of everything they had lost. Ned. Cat. Robb. Rickon. Lyanna, the mother he never had or had never known. He thought of all of the terrible things they had been through and the wars they had fought, not just on the battlefield, but within the stone walls of castles and kingdoms.

“We both know life doesn’t give a shit about anyone.” Arya responded nonchalantly. “If you want something you have to fight for it with every fiber of your being.”

A silence fell between them and Jon’s eyes turned to the crackling fire. If you want something you have to fight for it with every fiber of your being. Arya’s words echoed through his mind. She was right, of course. Jon had fought for his friends, his home, his family, for Sansa. He would die for them. Jon could feel his chest tightening at the thought of not getting to tell Sansa how he truly felt. What if she never knew that she was the one that really brought him back to life? What if she continued on not knowing everything he did was to protect her, like he promised? He never thought his path to Castle Black and beyond the wall would lead him straight into her arms. Maybe she could never forgive him for what he had done with the Dragon Queen, but if Sansa lived and he died then everything would have been worth it.

“What if what you want, you can’t have?” He asked aloud without thinking.

Arya’s face turned to him and maybe she understood because the tips of her lips turned into a smile. “You fight for it anyway.”

-

Gendry pulled his hood around his face tighter, despite knowing the darkening sky hide him well within the surrounding trees. Even though he was still a days ride from King’s Landing he could smell the stench of burning flesh, faintly, but it still lingered in the air. It seemed, after the Battle of Winterfell and the fall of King’s Landing, that one could never really escape that smell. His journey down had been easy. No one really knew who he was, which helped him blend in as he rode South. Being a bastard had its perks. Along the way he heard whispers about the Dragon Queen, Jon Snow, and the future fate of Westeros. Most people seemed weary or scared of what happened, thinking that any moment Daenerys would ride her dragon north and burn them all. A select few people were happy Cersei no longer held power, but rejected the idea of the Dothraki or the Unsullied ruling over their lands. He followed what Sansa had advised and said nothing to no one. It was of upmost importance that Daenerys or any of her people had no idea he was travelling South to gather reinforcements.

Gendry was giddy at the thought of seeing Arya again. The last time they had spoke hadn’t gone exactly to plan. He should have known better than to ask Arya to be his lady, that’s not who she was. He was so caught up in the moment (defeating the dead and drinking a good helping of ale did numbers for ones confidence) that he couldn’t think of being the Lord of Storm’s End without her. Gendry had obviously never been close to his father and his mother had died when he was young. Sure he had liked Tobho Mott, the man who had given him the apprentice ship, but Arya had been the first person to make him feel like he had a family. Gods he loved her and it was quite embarrassing, but Gendry knew that there was no denying it. If she did not return the sentiment then that was that. Knowing Arya they would be all business and he was trying very hard to remember everything Sansa had drilled into him before he left. He didn’t want to let her down and he knew he was probably one of the most vital parts of her plan.

If Gendry was being quite honest he still wasn’t sure if Arya would even show up. How the hell did Bran and Sansa get a message to her safely without tipping anyone else off? Did she know Sansa had sent him? If she did would she refuse to show? What if Sansa had been wrong and Arya wasn’t really here and it was a giant trap and he had walked right into the middle of it? Thousands of possibilities were running through his mind the longer he stood out in the cold. How long was he supposed to wait before he called it quits? He now wished he wasn’t alone and that Sansa was there with him, or at the very least Ghost so he had someone to watch his back.

“Do you always breathe so loud when it’s cold?”

Gendry nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard that voice and he pulled his hammer around before he realized Arya was standing just behind him, a small smirk on her face. It both annoyed him and made his heart melt.

“Do you always have to scare the shit out of people?” He fired back, his heart still hammering away.

Her smirk formed into a full shit-eating grin. She had missed him. A lot. “Yes.” She responded bluntly and she could feel Gendry rolling his eyes at her.

“I wasn’t sure if I would see you.” Gendry admitted after a moment and he couldn’t stop the dull aching in his chest when she moved closer to him.

“Sansa and Bran were very careful with their message and I suspect Bran had some control over the raven that delivered it.” Arya said as she held up the tiny scroll in the moonlight. “The winter winds cause even the strongest to escape South,” Arya read to him, “the birds, the rabbits, the minks, and the stags.” Her eyes flickered up to him for a moment and Gendry. “One moon falls, heavy like a crown, even for the greatest of Kings in the silence of the trees.”

“Hang on.” Gendry said as he snatched the scroll from her and reread over Sansa’s neat handwriting. “You were able to get to this meeting point just from that riddle?”

Arya took the paper back, amusement filling her face. Even in times of great danger Gendry always seemed to bring a smile to her face without even really trying. “The Baratheon sigil is a stag, which makes you the stag escaping South.” Arya explained as she gestured at him. “One moon cycle is about twenty seven days and the Kingswood lies in the Crownlands, just south of King’s Landing and Dragonstone.”

Gendry stood with his mouth slightly open, his eyes filling with amazement and wonder. It made perfect sense and he was sure that to anyone else it probably sounded like utter nonsense. Almost poetic like. “You and Sansa must be the smartest people I’ve ever met and I’ve met the person who brought Jon Snow back to life.”

Arya took note of the compliment, nodding her head. “I’m surprised Sansa sent you.” She stated after a moment.

“What,” Gendry asked in a mock hurt tone, “think I couldn’t handle being part of the great game?”

Arya shook her head. “It’s dangerous. You could get killed if Daenerys found out you were helping my sister.”

Gendry dropped his act as he stepped closer to Arya, hesitantly putting his hands on her shoulders. When she didn’t shrug them off Gendry released a quick breath his face falling into a more serious line. “I wanted to help you. Fuck Daenerys and her dragon. The Starks are my family.”

Arya tried not to smile, she had rejected him. She couldn’t go back on that now, but here he was, despite the mortal peril he had put himself in he had come down to deliver a message from Sansa Stark, Daenerys’ newest enemy. He had shown he cared, not just for her, but Jon, Sansa, and the North. His eyes were gentle and warm in the moonlight and she thought about leaning up to kiss him. “I’m glad you came.” She admitted. They shared another, soft look before Arya cleared her throat, her face becoming serious. “What does Sansa have planned?”

“She’s been sending ravens to the surrounding Kingdoms, rallying people to her cause.” Gendry said in a hushed whisper, because he never knew who could be watching or listening. “She has the Vale with Lord Arryn’s support along with your uncle, Edmure Tully, and the Riverrun.” He ticked off on his fingers. Sansa had crammed a lot of names and information into his head before he had departed. He was never good with names nor did he really know too much about the different kingdoms. Sansa had been patient and kind, despite the urgency, and it made it easier for him to remember everything. “The Wildlings are with her and I heard right before I left that Dorne might swing in her favor.”

“Dorne?” Arya asked remembering that Varys had said something about the new Prince pledging to Daenerys. “I thought they supported the Dragon Queen.”

Gendry grinned. “Apparently when she burnt down King’s Landing it caused Dorne to be hesitant, especially when Sansa had told them that Daenerys left Ellaria and the Sand Snakes in Cersei’s clutches, making no attempt to rescue her.” He liked having a leg up over Arya and knowing things she didn’t.

Arya was silent for a moment. It seemed like Sansa and Gendry had spent a decent amount of time together. “Have a good long study session with Sansa?” She asked a little too casually.

Gendry cocked an eyebrow, his grin only growing wider. “Jealous, Arya?”

Arya flushed slightly. She knew she had nothing to worry about. Sansa only had eyes for one person and it wasn’t Gendry. There were more important things to worry about than her feelings for the black smith. “What does Sansa want me to do?” She asked.

“She wants you to tell the Northern Army to be ready for when she comes.” Gendry said. “While she is gathering several people, it won’t ben enough to stand up and make Daenerys listen. She needs the North, but they’re stuck here.”

Arya nodded her head. The idea was simple enough, she just hoped Daenerys would talk before hoping on her dragon and burning through more than half the armies and great houses of the Seven Kingdoms. If Arya closed her eyes, when she closed her eyes, she could still see the dragon fire tearing through the city. People screaming, children crying, and the sounds of a city being utterly destroyed overwhelmed her. If she still couldn’t see the ashes or smell the lingering smoke then she might have thought it was all a terrible nightmare. What she thought had been a mission to kill Cersei had turned into a game of survival and now they were all on the board.

“Arya,” Gendry murmured when the girl had gone silent, “are you okay?”

“Did you see when her dragon took out lines of the dead at Winterfell?” Arya asked as she faced him fully. Gendry nodded his head. It was something you couldn’t easily forget. “Now imagine instead of it being an army of bones and decay it were people, real people. Men, women, children, both guilty and innocent, burning in the stone walls of that shit city.”

Gendry could picture it and he thanked whatever gods might have been listening that he had not witnessed it. His heart ached for Arya and what she had gone through, for what she had seen. “It must have been terrible.”

“Imagine if that were me or you.” Arya continued. “Or Jon or Sansa.”

“It won’t be.” Gendry said, cutting her off as he took her hand sin his own. He didn’t care if she didn’t want him or loved him like he loved her. He would do whatever it took to make sure she didn’t die by the fire of a dragon or the blade of a foreign army.

“It will be if we all fail.” Arya said as let herself find comfort in his grasp. It was one thing having Jon by her side, he was family, someone she loved and cherished like a brother, but having Gendry with her now filled her with a fire she couldn’t quite describe. Maybe it was love.

“Then we won’t fail.” Gendry responded with a note of fierce determination and finality in his voice.

Chapter Text

Gendry thought creating a resistance would be exciting and dangerous, in reality, while it was still dangerous, it was quite boring, for him, at least. Arya was the one doing most of the grunt work while he remained hidden on the sidelines. He knew he had to be careful and not be seen by someone that could report him to Daenerys, but Gendry thought he would be out in the field, rallying the northern men. Arya had nixed that pretty quickly.

“You know the northern men would recognize you instantly.” Arya said one day when Gendry complained over dinner. He had found an abandoned house on the outskirts of King’s Landing where he could safely work on building new weapons for the Northern Army. “And so would Greyworm.”

“And they don’t recognize you?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. He may have been granted some high status from Daenerys, but he was no one compared to Arya Stark, Night King Slayer.

“I have my ways.” Arya said nonchalantly.

The only good thing that had come out of this arrangement so far was that Gendry got to spend some time with Arya in the evenings when she wasn’t out doing whatever she was doing. While the rejected proposal still lay unspoken between them, something Gendry accepted they could talk about later if they all survived, their conversation was light and friendly. Back in Winterfell he had been too busy preparing for the Long Night he hardly had time to ask her about her travels and what she had been doing over the years since they had been separated. Arya, as usual, was still a closed book and didn’t reveal too many things. While slightly annoyed, he didn’t mind too much, if Arya wanted to tell him then she would and he wasn’t going to change that.

“So is Braavos all it's cracked up to be?” Gendry asked as he ladled some rabbit stew into Arya’s bowl. He was pretty proud of the creation. His cooking skills had improved greatly since he had been on his own. Arya did the hunting and he did the cooking. It was something so simple, yet Gendry found comfort in the routine of it. While Arya was not always there every night or disappeared for several days in a row but, when she was there, it was like having a little piece of home.

“It helped me figure out who I was.” Arya said with a mouth full of stew.

“And who is that?” Gendry asked with an amused expression.

Arya swallowed giving Gendry a mischievous smile, one that made his heart skip a beat, “No one.” Before he could remark she tore a piece of bread from the loaf sitting between them, dunking it, before scarfing it down. “Not as good as Hot Pie’s.”

“Well, I’m a blacksmith not a baker.” Gendry shot at her in a teasing voice, earning a grin from her. They sat and ate in silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s company. Although Gendry would never admit it, but when it was just him he felt completely and utterly alone. He had gotten so used to the hustle and bustle of Winterfell that the quiet scared him sometimes. Plus, he always seemed to be in the presence of a familiar face. Whether it was Arya pestering him while he was working, Jon sitting with him by a fire drinking, Davos checking in on him, and even Sansa and Bran’s sweeping eyes falling over him at dinner. There was always someone there and now, during the long days of loneliness he missed them. So, and he would really never admit this to anyone, especially Arya, at the end of the day, before bed, he would sit and write letters to those he missed. His spelling was terrible and he never wrote about anything super exciting, but it made him feel less lonely. He would write updates to Sansa or Jon or sometimes he would just tell them about his day. Most of the time he spent writing to Arya. He confessed how he felt and what he hoped their future could be.

“Sansa will be here in two days.” Arya commented, filling the silence and shifting the mood.

“I know.” he said as he looked at his tiny scroll that was delivered just yesterday. It had only been a few weeks since he had arrived, but Gendry nearly forgot, or tried to forget, that their possible impending doom would soon be upon them. “I guess it’s do or die now.” He added with a small smile. At least this would all be over, one way or another. He tried not to imagine what it would feel like to be consumed by dragon fire and he couldn’t bare the thought of Arya being consumed by the flames.

“You probably won’t see me after tonight, until Sansa arrives.” Arya said as she wiped her hands.

“What?” Gendry asked in surprise as he dropped his piece of bread back on the plate. “Why not?”

Arya got up from her seat and Gendry wasn’t ready for her to leave yet, he wasn’t ready for her to say goodbye. “I have some things to prepare for Sansa’s meeting with Daenerys.”

“I can come with you.” Gendry said as he stood up too.

“You’re supposed to meet up and ride with Sansa.” Arya said bluntly. “Besides, you can’t blow your cover now.”

Gendry deflated a bit at that. “But what if you need help?”

“Sansa needs you more.” Arya argued back. “We have to keep her safe no matter what.”

Gendry nodded his head. He knew how important Arya’s family was to her. She had been so long without it, never knowing if they were alive, now that she had them back Gendry knew she would do anything for them. “Of course.” He said because he cared about Sansa and Jon too. Arya nodded her head in return and made to leave, but in his desperation and loneliness, Gendry reached and grabbed his hand. “Arya, stay.”

Arya looked down at their clasped hands for a moment, regret and guilt twisting in her stomach. Maybe she loved Gendry, but now was not the time and things were still weird and she didn’t want to get tied up in something messy with no promise they had a tomorrow. “I can’t.”

“Just for tonight,” Gendry said as he pulled her closer, “or for a moment or forever.” His eyes burned into hers because he wanted her. He was probably going to meet his end by a dragon and the world would burn up around him and they stood no chance, and he wanted her.

“Gods you’re such an idiot.” Arya said before she grabbed his tunic and pulled him in for a kiss.

-

Sansa sat on her horse overlooking the burnt remains of King’s Landing. No amount of words could describe seeing the city after a massacre. She squeezed the reigns of her horse tightly as she tried not to think about the horrors she had endured within those walls. If anyone had deserved to burn down that shit city it was the Starks. So much had been taken from them, from her, because of who and what had lived inside. She had promised herself she would never return and yet here she was. Maybe it was because when she was a prisoner she longed for a Knight, a hero, to save her from the monsters. She prayed for Robb to march his armies through the gate and avenge their father, rescuing her, and taking her home. Sansa realized she had to become her own hero and it was her strength, courage, and cleverness that saved her. Now that Jon and Arya were the ones in danger she vowed to come and rescue them like she had always dreamed someone would do for her.

“That’s the city of Kings?” Tormund asked unimpressed as he pulled his horse to a stop next to her. He spat in its direction. “Bet it didn’t look much better before the fire either.”

Sansa’s eyes wondered over the broken buildings and ashes that lay waste in front of her. She once thought it a beautiful and magical place. That was a long time ago. She knew they would have to get on a boat to Dragonstone to face Daenerys soon. She wondered how the Dragon Queen felt burning places and things she had never known. Sansa knew them. “No, it didn’t.” She said as she looked away from the city.

“My lady,” It was Gendry’s voice that pulled her attention as his horse came over the hill, his face smiling as he caught sight of her, “good to see you again.”

“Gendry,” Sansa said in a soft voice as his horse came to a stop next to her, “you have done well. I can’t thank you enough.”

Gendry reached out a tentative hand, placing it over her own. She felt her fingers relax and she really was happy to see him again. A friendly face in an unfriendly land. “No need to thank me, Sansa.” He looked over to where the rest of their party waited and Gendry nearly felt the air rip from his lungs. “You’ve been busy.” Standing just behind everyone were armies of men, their banners, flashing different colors of the houses, waved proudly in the wind.

Sansa only gave him a knowing smile in return. They were still missing the Northern Army, which, she knew couldn’t join them until they were on Dragonstone. It was only a matter of time before Daenerys found out Sansa had brought an entire army South to fight for Jon Snow and the North. She looked in the direction that Dragonstone sat and her heart skipped a beat. Jon was there. No matter what happened at least she would get to see him one last time. She could still remember their parting, like it had been yesterday.

“Don’t go you idiot!” Sansa huffed in frustration as Jon gathered up the last of his belongings.

“Sansa, I don’t have a choice.” He said with a roll of his eyes. They had gone over this several times. Hadn’t it been clear from the battle strategy that he had to lead the Northern Army for Daenerys?

“Men always say that.” Sansa argued back. “You could stop this, you’re the one with a legit-“

“No.” Jon cut across her as he stood up, facing her, ice blue eyes piercing his own. “You know I don’t want it.”

“Jon,” Sansa said in a softer voice as she placed a hand on his arm, “you know what will happen if you go down there.”

Jon’s eyes stared at her hand, trying to ignore that warm feeling filling his stomach when she touched him. “She won’t do that.”

“What if she does?” Sansa whispered because she knew the type of person that Daenerys Targaryen was. A queen who decided that it was her birthright to rule the Seven Kingdoms no matter the cost. A dragon. If she cared she would have listened to Sansa’s desire for Northern Independence. If she cared she wouldn’t have parade Jon like a piece of meat, only engaging with him when she was hungry.

“When the war is over we can all be together.” Jon finally said, turning away from her.
It was the way Jon dealt with things that aggravated her to no end. In some way she knew he was only trying to protect everyone the only way he knew how to. If only he would let her in, let her help.

“What if you don’t come back?” Sansa asked. The question had been burning in the back of her mind since they had defeated the dead. One war over and another one to finish. Jon had been lucky to survive this long, what if he didn’t come back this time? The thought broke her heart and she could feel a few tears escape her eyes.

Jon froze in his tracks, slowly turning to face her again. He felt he was always saying goodbye to her, leaving her with the promise that he would always come back, but it was never a guarantee. “Sansa…” He said as he moved closer to her, cupping her face in his hands. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

That had been the end of that. Whether he actually loved Daenerys or not, Sansa did not know, but she loved him and that’s all that mattered.

“My lady,” Brienne said as she came to Sansa’s side, “it’s time.”

Sansa turned towards her allies, giving them a small nod. It had been decided that the Dorne Prince, Lord Arryn with Yohn Royce, and her uncle Edmure would all stay behind with their men while she, Brienne, Pod, Gendry, Sam, Bran, and Tormund would travel to Dragonstone. She didn’t know whether it was more dangerous to face the Dragon Queen or lay waiting in the fields where Drogon could decimate them in seconds. Either way, if Daenerys decided, no one would survive her dragon fire no matter where they made their stand. Sansa threw one last, long look at King’s Landing, hoping that would not be their future.

“Let’s show dragons what wolves are made of.” Sansa said as she clicked her horse to head to the shore.

-

Jon stood on the Cliffside overlooking the tides that would be carrying Sansa to Dragonstone, to Daenerys, to him. He had not slept well since he knew when she would arrive. Three days ago when they received the raven he had to keep a calm demeanor, despite the utter panic he had been starting to feel. He had three days to come up with a plan to get everyone out alive. Three days to figure out what to do with Daenerys. Three days until he would be reunited with the one person he knew he couldn’t live without. He knew he needed to trust in Sansa and Arya, but without knowing anything he was terrified it might all go wrong. Daenerys had been keeping him at arms length. Some days she was warm and friendly, talking about how Jon should learn the history of their family, other days she would give him cool looks from across the table, only remarking how tiresome it was to wait for Sansa’s arrival when there was so much to do.

Jon felt like he had whip lash. One moment he was a Targaryen, one of her kind, a friend, an ally, a lover, but the next he was a Stark, one of them, an enemy. He still had not let himself come to terms with who he really was. Not Jon Snow, but not Aegon Targaryen either. He was constantly denouncing his claim to appease the Dragon Queen, even though it was never enough. She had wanted to hide his secret, his truth, from his family, but when he had told them they accepted him for who he was.

You are a Stark. You are. You’ll always be a Stark.

Even if Daenerys did give up the throne he still didn’t want it. He had had enough of the politics and the wars. He just wanted to be at peace. He could imagine sitting by a fire, a mug of ale in his hand, Sansa and Ghost by his side. A simple life where he was home, but this was a game of thrones and things were never simple.

“Sansa’s boat has just arrived.” Davos’ said, breaking Jon’s train of thought. Jon turned to his friend, a grim expression on Davos’ face.

“Do you think she’s here to rescue us?” Jon asked as he attempted a smile, his heart rate already increasing as he turned away from the cliffs.

“It seems that we always need rescued.” Davos said with a quip of his eyebrow. Jon knew he had a point. Despite their best efforts of playing hero, in the end it seemed like someone else would sweep in and save them in the nick of time.

“Well,” Jon said as he started for the beach, at least he could see Sansa for one fleeting moment without Daenerys’ gaze on them, “let’s greet them then.”

“The Queen wants us in the throne room when Sansa arrives.” Davos called to Jon’s retreating back.

Jon paused in his step, his head turning slightly, like he hadn’t heard the words correctly, but Davos knew he had. Of course she would want them to go straight to the throne room. She didn’t want to give Jon or Sansa any chance of communicating without her there to see it. He should have known this, but his desire to see Sansa was strong. He needed to clear his head of distractions. He needed to stay sharp if he was going to keep his family alive. He looked back and behind Davos he could see Greyworm flanked by two Unsullied waiting to escort them.

“Of course.” Jon said as he released a sigh. “Of course.” He murmured to himself. He and Davos walked in silence, Greyworm leading them back into the castle. He remembered when he first journeyed here. Sansa would be taking those same steps. Would Drogon fly over her to intimidate her? But then again he knew a dragon could not intimidate the Lady of Winterfell. She had risked everything to come and save him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Drogon circling in the distance. The black dragon disappeared beyond the cliffs as Jon entered into the castle. The tense atmosphere seemed to suck all of the air out of his lungs. He had to remind himself he was a player in this game, a player that had survived. He had been a bastard of Winterfell. A crow. Commander of the Night’s Watch. King in the North. Aegon Targaryen heir to the Seven Kingdoms and the Iron Throne. Jon Snow. A dragon and a wolf. Fire and Ice.

I am a Stark, Jon thought, and Starks endured.

Greyworm pushed open the doors to the great hall and Jon spotted Daenerys sitting on her throne, foreboding and strong. His hand gripped Longclaw tightly as he and Davos entered. Daenerys nodded to a spot just in front of her and Greyworm joined the line of Unsullied standing on her other side.

“Your grace.” Jon said with a nod of his head.

“Ready for a family reunion?” Daenerys asked and she had a dangerous edge to her voice.

Jon’s eyes moved away from Daenerys to the closed door. Any moment Sansa would be walking through it and he would do anything to protect her. He held his breath as they opened.

-

Sansa wasn’t too surprised to see Tyrion greeting her at the beach instead of Jon. She knew Daenerys would never let them meet before she faced the queen. Still, it was slightly disheartening not to see those dark curls or gentle smile. When she was little Sansa had always dreamed of the far off places and the people who lived there. Dragonstone was terrifyingly beautiful in its own way. Her eyes wandered the sky for the great dragon, but he was no where to be seen.

“Lady Sansa,” Tryion said as he offered her a smile that didn’t fully reach his eyes, “I would say it’s a pleasure to see you again, but the circumstances beg to differ.”

“Lord Tyrion,” Sansa started in a knowing voice.

“Don’t.” Tyrion said with an expression that was mixed amusement and sadness. “I know what you’re going to say.” They started up the long walk to the castle, the two walking beside each other, Sansa’s party not far behind.

“Then you know why I am really here.” Sansa spoke plainly. It mattered not if the soldiers around her heard. They would know or already know what was about to happen.

“I’ve heard you’ve been busy.” He said as he turned to catch a look at her company. “You even convinced the Wildlings to travel all the way down here.” He commented as he walked with his hands behind his back

Sansa could hear a sort of compliment in her voice. “You make a rotten Hand of the Queen.” Sansa shot at him, a hint of teasing in her voice.

This time the smile did reach Tyrion’s eyes. “I do, don’t I?” He asked after a moment. “I always thought I hated that city and the people who lived in it, but seeing it destroyed before my very eyes…”

Sansa noted the regret and heartbreak in his voice. She knew he had tried to avoid a massacre, but his blind faith in his Queen had led him astray. “Sometimes we still believe in the wrong people, even after we’ve learned our lessons.”

“I found Jamie and Cersei crushed, together, beneath the rubble of the Red Keep.” Tyrion stated grimly. “You would think the death of all our enemies would stir some sort of joy in me, but all I felt was pain and jealousy at seeing them lying there.” Sansa didn’t say anything as he carried on. “Jealous that they don’t have to live in this shit world anymore and deal with its consequences.”

“Everyone who ever underestimated me or harmed me is dead.” Sansa said, catching Tyrion’s attention. She looked at him, her eyes hard. “You said that to me when you arrived in Winterfell.”

“And that is still true.” Tyrion noted.

“We all must face our consequences at some point.” Sansa said. “The Dragon Queen is no different.”

Drogon appeared from around the cliff side, flying over the party. Sansa and Tyrion didn’t flinch, as it’s great, black wings swung over them. They both watched the dragon move to circle the castle where Daenerys was waiting for them. Sansa remembered watching Jon ride a dragon for the first time. It was terrifying and wonderful. Now she fully understood how he was both a Stark and a Targaryen. Why should he choose when he was both? It was part of who he was and if Sansa wasn’t going to love all of him, then she didn’t deserve any of him.

“If it’s any consolation,” Tyrion said as the entered through the great black doors, “I may very well be at the end of his dragon fire too.”

They had finally made it to the great hall. Sansa knew who and what lay behind those doors. This was it. Everything she had been working for and everything she was trying to save all depended on this moment. She looked back at Brienne, Pod, Sam, Gendry, and Tormund. If they were going to turn back and run to save themselves, then this was the time. All of their faces were set in a hard line. They were not going anywhere. Sansa’s eyes came to rest on Bran and he gave her the smallest of nods. Sansa took in a deep breath as she faced forward, giving the guards a nod of her head to open the doors.

“Rest easy, Lord Tyrion,” Sansa said as her eyes became sharp and her lips turned up in a snarl, like a wild wolf, “this is a time for wolves.”

Chapter Text

A seven nation army couldn't hold me back

Daenerys was sitting on her throne, silver hair and pale skin contrasting with the dark stone and black dress with a blood red scarf draped over her right shoulder, secured by her dragon pin. She was very much the Dragon Queen that had just reduced her prospective kingdom to ash, but it was not her that Sansa’s eyes fell on first. As she walked through the threshold her ice blues fell on the one person she had been missing and was desperate to see since he had left for a war that was not his own.

Jon.

He was standing tall and brave, back to the enemy, his Stark armor glimmering from his chest. He was a wolf in the Dragon’s lair just as she had been the lone wolf in the lion’s den. His curls were pulled back and his face was impassive, but she could have sworn she saw the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly, a small tug of a smile that pulled at her heart. No matter what happened she knew she loved him, and no one could take that away from her. When their eyes met it was like he was saying he felt the same. So much seemed to pass between them in the brief moment before Sansa tore her eyes away to face Daenerys Targaryen. She knew her eyes couldn’t linger for more than a few seconds on Jon, she didn’t come here just to save him. The North, her family, and everyone she cared about were in danger and she was fighting for them too. Sansa stopped several feet in front of Daenerys, her party mere steps behind her. Sansa watched Daenerys carefully as the queen’s eyes ran over the people standing behind the Lady of Winterfell. She knew Daenerys wouldn’t be too surprised to see most of them, but her eyebrow did quirk for a brief moment and Sansa assumed this was due to Gendry’s presence.

Greyworm stepped forward, clearing his throat, “You are standing in the presence of Daenerys of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons, and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

It was quit a list and Sansa could practically imagine Arya rolling her eyes at all of the titles. Brienne stepped forward, next to Sansa, “Sansa of House Stark, the Lady of Winterfell, accompanied by her brother, Bran of House Stark, the Three Eyed Raven.”

Sansa’s eyes glanced sideways at Brienne, offering the knight a small smile. Brienne nodded her head and stepped back with the rest of her company and a tense silence filled the room. She knew she had to wait for Daenerys to speak first and she wondered how much Daenerys knew, or guessed, what Sansa had done. She eyed Greyworm and the four Unsullied that flanked him, wearily. They could easily cut her down if they wanted, but Sansa was not worried about them. It was of Drogon that her fears laid. When it came to swords Sansa felt confident in her company’s ability, but no one could defeat dragon fire with a sword.

“I trust your journey back South was pleasant.” Daenerys started, but her polite words were undercut but the iciness in her voice.

“It was not easy to come back, your grace.” Sansa responded, her voice equally as icy. “But we all must do things we find unpleasant.”

“I see you did not come alone.” Daenerys fired back her eyes falling to Sansa’s company again. “Gendry Baratheon,” Daenerys barked at the young man, causing him to stumbled forward, “did you not like your appointed position as Lord of Storm’s End?”

Gendry looked at Sansa, his heart hammering in his chest, he was not good at things like this. He knew he needed to tread lightly and there was something about Sansa’s steely glare, that reminded him so much of Arya, that pulled his courage forward. “I am very grateful, your grace.” Gendry finally said as he looked up at Daenerys.

“And yet you stand next to a potential traitor of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.” Daenerys said as she stood up, drawing herself to her fullest height.

The air in the room became thicker. Jon shifted on his feet uncomfortably. He didn’t like Daenerys calling Sansa a traitor. That’s all she had been called since she left home. Traitor to Robb by telling him to surrounded to save their father. Traitor to the Starks because she was forced to marry a Lannister. Traitor again for becoming a Bolton. But she was never a traitor. She had fought and bled for House Stark and she survived.

“The Starks are my family.” Gendry responded after a moment, because it was the truth. “I’ve fought to protect the realm from the army of the dead because I knew it was the right thing to do and now I want to protect the people that gave me the first, real feeling of home.”

Daenerys said nothing for a long moment as she looked at Gendry. He swallowed the lump in his throat, wishing Arya were there, but he held his gaze, knowing to not look away. “Very well.” Was all she said, which sounded both like an acceptance and a threat. Gendry nodded his head and stepped back in line.

“Sansa,” Daenerys said as she set her sights back on the Lady of Winterfell, “do you know why I summoned you here?”

“To bend the knee and pledge the North’s loyalty.” Sansa said simply.

“Even after you tried to undermine me I decided to give you a chance to save your House and the North, and what do you do?” Daenerys sneered, her teeth snarled like her black dragon. “You march an army South to challenge me.”

Jon looked from Daenerys to Sansa, his eyes wide with surprise. He had been kept in the dark, trusting in Arya, trusting in Sansa. She had marched an entire army South to save the North, to save him.

“You threatened my family.” Sansa growled and in that moment she was more wolf than woman.

“And what is stopping me from killing you right now?” Daenerys asked as she flicked her fingers at Greyworm, the latter pulling his weapon from its sheath, moving towards Sansa, three more men in tow behind him.

Several things happened at once. Sansa’s company all began to draw their weapons and Jon felt himself moving into action, his hand on Longclaw, but no one moved faster than the fourth Unsullied who easily struck down the three soldiers behind Greyworm, before rolling in front of the commander, stopping the man from moving any farther.

“Touch my sister,” the Unsullied said before he reached up and began to pull his face away to reveal Arya, “and I’ll kill you myself.” She finished with a snarl, Needle raised high.

Greyworm looked at Daenerys and she nodded her head, anger seething from her tight features and the commander sheathed his weapon, stepping back to stand next to Daenerys to protect her. Jon still had his hand wrapped around his sword, his chest heaving slightly as he tried to calm himself. If Arya had not been quicker he would have cut down Greyworm in a second, before he could even reach Sansa. Somewhere in the back of his mind he should have been more tact and clever about his actions, but it was too late. Daenerys had seen the way he had moved and Sansa had spotted it as well. Daenerys knew who Jon would pick if given the choice, because it wasn’t a choice at all.

“While your army may be impressive my dragon can but through them just like he did with King’s Landing.” Daenerys said as she looked away from Jon, hurt and betrayal evident in her voice. “What’s stopping me from burning your armies down too?”

“What do you gain by burning the people of the Kingdom’s you swore to protect?” Sansa asked, feeling stronger and braver with Arya at her side. She tried not to look at Jon, but she had seen the way he looked at Greyworm. It was the same look he had around Ramsey and Littlefinger. He was both dragon and wolf.

“I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms and if that means I have to cleanse this land of its traitors, then so be it.” Daenerys said with venom in her words.

“Your grace,” Tyrion said as he stepped forward, “killing the Starks will create an all out war, not just with the North, but all of the people who are standing behind them.”

“They are the ones betraying the crown and their people by not bending the knee.” Daenerys argued as she glared at Tyrion. “Or do you still have a soft spot for the Lady of Winterfell, just like your brother?”

Tyrion frowned deeply. “You once spoke to me about breaking the wheel.”

“I am breaking the wheel!” Daenerys said through gritted teeth.

“Burning Sansa Stark is not breaking the wheel!” Tyrion stated loudly. “It is only continuing it.”

Daenerys opened her mouth to retort, but Bran’s deadpan voice cut her off, catching all of their attention.

“Burn them all…Burn them all….”

Bran’s eyes were for Daenerys only. Brienne looked at Bran, her brows knitted together and her mouth twisted in pain. She remembered Jamie telling her why he stabbed his king in the back. Kingslayer. She knew those words haunted him, but, maybe now, they could save them.

“I know what my father was.” Daenerys said, her voice softer, but there was still a dangerous edge to it.

“Our enemies are dead.” Sansa said, capturing the queen’s attention again. “The Night King is dead, Cersei is dead, and this land has been scorched and bloodied by the wars of men.” Her voice rang with determination and there was fire in her eyes. “You say you want to be different, but you won’t hear the people who have fought and died for their independence, for their homes.”

Daenerys gave off a humorless laugh. “What are you suggesting, then?” She asked. “I suffered and fought for this throne, why should I give it up when it is mine.”

“Sam,” Sansa said as she turned to the man who had been standing quietly behind her, “I need your help.”

Sam shifted nervously on his feet and his eyes went to Jon for a brief moment before he stepped forward, bringing Bran so they were align with Sansa and Arya.

“Your grace,” Sam said and Jon could practically hear Sam’s voice shaking, but he knew how brave Sam was and what he was risking to be here, “if you would hear us out, I believe we have come up with a solution that would save the realm from any more death and destruction.”

Daenerys sat back down on her throne, she held the true power. Her dragon could destroy them anytime she wanted it to, but there was caution and hesitation in her movements. Maybe she understood the gravity of the situation and that her actions of burning King’s Landing did have consequences. Maybe deep down there was still a young girl who just wanted to go home and be with people who loved her. Maybe she was just humoring them, but she nodded her head anyway. “I am listening, Samwell Tarly.”

Sam took a deep breath and looked at Sansa, who nodded encouragingly, before facing Daenerys again. “Throughout history we’ve let people go to war to conquer the Iron Throne and all it has led to is bloodshed and families murdering families.” Sam paused to gather himself for a moment. “Now we are at a crossroads. We all fought together against the Night King to protect the living. Unsullied. The North. Lannisters. Dothraki. Wildlings. Starks. Targaryens. All of us, working together to defeat our common enemy.”

“So what crossroads are we at, Samwell Tarly?” Daenerys asked.

“We can choose to keep fighting over who sits on that bloody throne for the rest of our damn lives or we can break the wheel, together.” Sam finished, releasing a breath he had been holding in since he had started talking.

“And how do we do that?” Tyrion asked.

“Independent nations,” Sansa said and all eyes turned to her, “ruled by those who have been chosen by their people, come together, to create a council to rule equally.”

Silence filled the room for a long moment. Jon couldn’t help the soft smile that filled his face for a brief second. He never thought he could love Sansa Stark more than he already did, but, even now he could feel his heart swelling. She truly was Ned and Catelyn Stark’s daughter. Jon imagined Robb beaming with pride as Sansa fought, not just for the North, but for the betterment of Westeros. It was she who deserved to be the Queen in the North.

“And what kingdom would I represent?” Daenerys asked, bringing Jon back to reality. “King’s Landing falls under the Storm Lands,” she said her eyes moving to Gendry again, “and Dragonstone is not a kingdom.”

Sam cleared his throat, “Well, you already have the name in your title, your grace.”

“Which one would that be?” She asked through tight lips, her eyebrow cocking slightly.

“Queen of Meereen.” Bran answered before Sam could.

Daenerys immediately stood up and the sound of a loud thud just outside the castle told them Drogon was just outside. Anger flashed in her eyes and when she snarled Jon half expected her to breathe fire.

“I sailed across the Narrow Sea with my armies to conquer the Iron Throne, my birthright, and you want me to go back to Meereen?” She seethed.

“Meereen remains in a state of unbalance.” Bran carried on like he had not been interrupted, nor perturbed by Daenerys’ anger. “You destroyed the masters, but their economy is fragile. To survive the people must sell themselves back into slavery, no one is truly free until the city is given the chance to rebuild”

“When I left Meereen there was peace.” Daenerys argued. “I placed I man I trusted-“

“A mercenary.” Sam argued.

“He is a good-“

“Show too much kindness, people won’t fear you. If they don’t fear you, they don’t follow you.” Bran quoted, causing Daenerys’ eyes to widen.

“Meereen and Westeros have been two separate entities, but together, we can build something better.” Sam added. “We can help each other. Fuck being the Seven Kingdoms, why not unite everyone?”

“So you want our Queen to sail back to Meereen and be their representative?” Tyrion asked when Daenerys remained silent.

Sam nodded, but before he could speak Daenerys cut in, “And what is stopping you from placing Jon Snow on the Iron Throne as soon as I am gone?”

All eyes turned to Jon and he took in a quick breath. He could see looks of confusion on some people’s faces and maybe, one day, he would explain his truth. But, for now, he was still dealing with the turmoil of who he was and how his life had been a complete lie. Now that truth was putting them right into the dragon fire. His eyes came to rest on Sansa and Arya and he knew, no matter what, they accepted him, all of him, for who he was and if wasn’t willing to fight for them then he didn’t deserve to be a Stark. He could feel Daenerys’ violet eyes burning into him. Sam had said they were at a crossroads and now, Jon was at one too. It wasn’t a choice between being a Stark or a Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms or Warden of the North, love being the death of duty or duty being the death of love. It was Jon choosing between Sansa or Daenerys.

Jon swiftly turned, his eyes narrowed and lips quivering. “I have never wanted the throne and no matter what happens I never intend to take it. All I’ve done since I left home is fought. I’ve won, I’ve lost, and I’m tired.” Daenerys was watching him carefully, but she did not speak so Jon continued. “If I were to return home I would not represent Winterfell as King in the North and if you were to return to Meereen I would not seize the crown as King of the Seven Kingdoms. Ned Stark may not have been my real father, but his blood runs in my veins and I will be honorable to my word, like he had tried to be all his life.”

Jon and Daenerys stared each other down. The last two Targaryens in the world.

Sam cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “It’s time we move into a future without slaves, without fighting over one throne, without fear of the people we are supposed to place our trust in. We can created a place where we can be equals and build a better world, like you’ve said, your grace.”

“What if I don’t want that anymore?” Daenerys asked, her eyes moving away from Jon to Sam. Sam paled and quickly looked over at Sansa, but the queen of wolves did not flinch.

“Then you will have to pay the price for the harm you’ve caused.” Sansa responded and now Daenerys turned her fiery glare towards the Lady of Winterfell .

“What little peace and order the five kings left us will not long survive the three queens, I fear.” Bran’s voiced echoed hauntingly in the room.

“All of you will await my decision outside where Drogon can keep his eyes on you.” Daenerys finally stated.

Sansa and Jon caught each other’s eyes, this was it, but, at least they had each other.

Chapter Text

Even with Drogon looming in the distance Jon was happy to be outside, the fresh air felt good to breathe in. Their fate was upon them soon, but for a moment Jon didn’t feel any fear. His eyes were on Sansa, who was chatting with Gendry and Arya, Ghost right by her side. His chest tightened, his stomach twisting nervously because now may be his only chance to tell her how he really felt. Sansa, who had endured so much, had marched an army south to defy the Dragon Queen and claim the North as an independent nation. Sansa, the woman he never thought he would see again when he left for the Wall, destined to marry a prince, took back her home with a wildling army and those loyal to the Stark name. Sansa, the person who brought him back to life when he was ready to give up. Sansa Stark. He loved her.

Jon started to move, but Tormund got to him first, crashing into his friend, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Thought you’d see the last of me, eh Snow?” Tormund said with a grin.

“I’m surprised to see you all the way down here.” Jon responded with a slight laugh. It was true, he never expect Tormund or any of the wildlings to venture this far south. “What made you do it?”

Tormund turned and pointed at Sansa, a grin on his face. “The Red Wolf told me you were in trouble and how can I leave my favorite little Crow behind?”

Jon’s eyes were on Sansa again, but this time she was looking at him, a smile spreading across her face.

“King of the Seven Kingdoms?” Tormund asked with a sly smile. “Not a bastard after all.”

“It’s a long story.” Jon said, turning away for a moment, meeting Tormund’s knowing look. “For another time, perhaps.”

Tormund nodded. “Or not at all.” He said as he gave Jon’s shoulder a squeeze. “King or bastard, you’re a good man, Jon.”

Jon’s lips turned up in a smile, but before he could say anything Sansa was standing in front of him and suddenly he felt all the air being sucked from his lungs. Tormund gave him one finally pat before he strolled away, whistling to himself. Ghost nuzzled him gently and Jon leaned down to pet his faithful companion, happy to have the direwolf with him. He knew Sansa wouldn’t have let him go that easily and it warmed his heart to see Ghost standing by her side. He finally pulled himself away from Ghost to look at her.

“Sansa…” Her name tasted so sweet on his tongue.

Across from them Gendry and Arya stood together, the latter trying not to stare at her sister and cousin for too long. Gendry, on the other hand, couldn’t stop staring at Arya. He knew she was always full of surprises, but seeing her transform from the Unsullied soldier to herself was something he hadn’t been expecting.

“Stop staring.” Arya said without looking away from her family.

“You stop staring.” He argued back, finally catching her eye and shit-eating grin again. “How the hell did you do whatever you did?”

Her face suddenly became unreadable as she said, “I went to Braavos to work for the Many Faced God, lost my eye sight, was stabbed, killed people, and wore their faces to do my bidding.”

Gendry felt his jaw drop slightly as he regarded Arya for a long while. “I can’t tell if you’re lying or not.” He finally said. The idea of wearing other people’s faces seemed beyond impossible and down right creepy and yet he had seen her pull off the face with his own eyes. “But I guess I’ve fought undead people and there’s a giant dragon standing just behind us, so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised anymore.”

“Don’t forget that your blood was used as dark magic to kill your uncle.” Arya added, her amused expression returning to her face.

“How could I forget?” Gendry responded with a roll of his eyes. “And to think we survived all of that just to be fried like a potato for committing treason.”

“There’s still time to escape.” Arya said a little more seriously. “She’ll want to make examples of us first if that’s what she chooses.”

“Oh no!” Gendry cut her off immediately. “You can not get rid of me that easily Arya Stark. I’ve made my choice and I would do it all over again if it meant I would get to be by your side in the end.” He finished more softly. He hesitantly reached over and took her hand. “Where you go, I go.”

Arya smiled. Yes, she thought, this could definitely be love.

Tyrion strolled over to the small group of Sansa’s company huddled together, bodies tense and hands lightly gripping weapons. Daenerys had sent him out not long after she had dismissed everyone else. He knew she wasn’t seeking his council anymore. He had shown his cards when he had released Jamie and when he defended Sansa. He just hoped there was still the Queen he had first met in Meereen still left in her.

“Brave show you all put on.” Tyrion said with a wry smile as they all looked at him. “Sad to think this may be our last conversation.”

“I could sing again, if you’d like.” Pod offered, earning him an eye roll from Brienne.

“Do you think she listened to what we had to say?” Sam asked nervously.

Tyrion merely shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure. It’s a good idea, a council of equals, maybe we should have thought of that sooner.”

“And how many of the people who are now dead would have liked that idea?” Brienne asked with skepticism in her voice.

“Absolutely no one.” Tyrion responded with a laugh. “Well, maybe Jamie, depending on when you would have asked him.” He watched as Brienne’s mouth tensed at his brother’s name. For all the things Jamie was and had done, at least he had shown some good in the end and they both knew that. “Do you ever think about who will remember us when we’ve all gone?”

“Do you always ask such bullshit questions before impending doom?” Tormund asked, causing everyone, including Tyrion to chuckle.

“If I don’t who will?” He responded.

“While I was in the Citadel Archmaester Ebrose was working on the history of Robert Baratheon and the wars that led to his ascension and the wars that followed.” Sam explained, his nervous talking taking over. “I imagined writing the history of what has happened since Ned Stark went to King’s Landing, if Archmaester Ebrose never finished, of course.”

“And what would you call this story?” Tyrion asked curiously.

Sam shrugged. “Archmaester Ebrose gave it some boring name, I always thought something more poetic would be better.”

“A Song of Ice and Fire.” Pod suggested, catching everyone’s attention.

Tyrion nodded his head. “If I had wine I would drink to that. If we live through this, I expect to read your story, Samwell Tarly.”

“I told you not to go.” Sansa said. She wished they had time to be alone, really and truly alone, because she was ready to bare her heart to him.

“I’m not very good at listening, am I?” Jon asked with a bemused expression.

“Do you enjoy being saved by me?” Sansa asked with a quirk of her eyebrow.

“As much as you enjoy antagonizing the Dragon Queen.” Jon remarked, moving closer to her, the tension building between them. It had always been there, with everyone look they shared or every conversation they had. He wished he could go back and be braver when it came to her, but now, it seemed, they were out of time.

“Can you forgive me?” Sansa asked more seriously. “I was just trying to protect you and our family.”

“Sansa, you know there’s nothing to forgive.” Jon said immediately, his hands reaching out to her even though everyone seemed to be watching them, but Jon didn’t care. If they were about to be roasted alive by a dragon then there was nothing left for him to lose. His rough fingers met her soft cheek, his thumb tracing over her smooth skin. “I won’t let her hurt you.” The words spilled from his tongue before he could stop them. He knew he could promise no such things, but he meant what he said, even if he had to face Drogon alone, with only Longclaw in his hand.

“I know, Jon.” Sansa said her hand coming up to wrap around his. And maybe that meant she knew how Jon felt about her and that his time with the Dragon Queen wasn’t real, but all part of the game. Maybe she knew everything he had done for her, to protect her, to make her happy. Sansa knew a lot of things, so maybe she knew these things too.

“Sansa….” Jon murmured her name as he moved closer, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Don’t.” Sansa choked out. “Don’t say things that can not be.” Because it wasn’t fair that at the end of it all they could finally be everything she had ever wanted.

Jon smiled slightly. “It’s always been you.”

Before he could say more Bran and Arya had come to stand at their side and Jon quickly pulled himself from Sansa, but a knowing look from Arya told him not to be afraid. Jon felt himself blush slightly and turned, instead, to Bran.

“You can’t happen to see what Daenerys is deciding, can you?” He asked dryly.

“The future is always changing.” Bran responded thoughtfully.

“Well,” Jon said as he looked at all of them, “here we are, the last of the Starks.”

Before more could be said the doors to the castle opened and Daenerys stepped outside. Jon fell in line next to Sansa and out of the corner of his eye he saw everyone else gathering around them. Daenerys’ face was unreadable as she descended the stairs. A silence fell over the land, not even the sound of the waves in the distance could be heard as Drogon wrapped himself behind his mother.

“Do not be afraid, Jon,” Bran said, “fire can not kill a dragon.”

Jon didn’t have time to ponder on Bran’s words as Daenerys came to a stop a few feet in front of them. Her eyes wandered over all of them before they rested on the Starks, who were front and center.

“I came to Westeros to take what was mine, the Iron Throne.” Daenerys started, her voice carrying over them as Drogon settled his head, teeth bared, next to her. “I fought and bled for the things I believed I deserved, becoming Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and taking it with fire and blood.”

Jon could feel his breath catching in his throat. This was their end. Daenerys would surely destory them for what they had done. She had burned down King’s Landing so easily, what were four Starks compared to that of a great dragon? He felt something warm in his hand and he looked down for a brief second to see Sansa’s fingers wrap around his own.

“I proclaimed I would not be Queen of the Ashes, that I was different than the Mad King,” Daenerys continued, “and when the time came I fought for the North, helping to defeat the Night King, and how did you repay me? By rebelling against my birthright.” She paused her face taught and angry. Daenerys looked down, swallowing a lump in her throat. “But I betrayed myself, too. In my anguish and madness I burned King’s Landing to the ground, thinking that building a better world meant cleansing it of those who had done the same thing I was trying to do. Fight for their home.”

Jon dared not believe her words, as he griped Sansa’s hand tighter. Hope filled him and he tried not to imagine what life could be like with Sansa in Winterfell without the fear of an enemy marching on them from all directions. He tried not to imagine what it would feel like to love her openly and fully, like she deserved.

“From this moment moving forward I shall be Daenerys of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons, and Queen and representative of Meereen.” She finished.

There was a moment of pure disbelief as her words sunk in for all of them before sighs and breaths of relief were released and smiles broke out over faces, arms wrapping around each other in delight. Arya felt herself being turned around as Gendry closed the gap between them in a messy, but sweet kiss. Jon closed his eyes, the vision of snow falling in Sansa’s hair, like stars, overcoming him. It wouldn’t be just a dream. He wanted to kiss her, but knew he couldn’t just yet, because this decision was balanced on the edge of a knife and they had to protect it at all cost.

“There’s only one thing left to do before we look on to the future.” Bran said over everyone else, his eyes on Drogon and Daenerys.

-

Jon stood with Daenerys in what used to be the throne room of the Red Keep. The only thing that seemed to remain was the Iron Throne. It was odd to think one object could represent something people went to war for, died for, killed for. For a fleeting moment he wondered what it would be like to sit on that throne, the most powerful person in the world, before he remembered having absolute power never did anyone any good. Maybe in the golden room it would have looked grand, but now, against the ashes and the greying sky it looked small and ugly. He finally pulled his eyes away and turned to Daenerys, wondering if she was thinking the same thing he was. Was she reconsidering the words she had spoken hours ago? Did seeing the throne she thought she wanted change her mind? Strange, how one small thing could cause so much pain.

“I had a vision once,” Daenerys said quietly, almost like a whisper, “that ash was raining down around me and I was reaching for the throne, but could never quite touch it.” She reached out a shaky hand, her fingers falling gracefully over the hilt of one of the swords.

“This probably isn’t how you imagined it would be.” Jon said as he watched her.

“Nothing ever is.” Daenerys said as she finally pulled away, her body angled towards him. She moved closer and Jon felt his body tense up for a moment. “We could have been everything together.”

Jon felt a sad smile fill his lips. “All I ever wanted was to go home.”

Violet eyes moved over his features searching for something that wasn’t there. “Daario told me I was a conqueror. That’s what I believed. I could conquer the Seven Kingdoms like Aegon the first and sit on the throne that he created.” She said as she looked back at the throne. “Destroying this seems like an insult to his memory.”

“Or the beginning of something better.” Jon stated, catching her piercing gaze again.

“Perhaps.” Daenerys said with a nod of her head. “I hope one day we can be friends again.”

“I hope for the same.” Jon said genuinely. They could only rebuild if they all worked together. “I wish you good fortune in the days to come.”

Daenerys turned towards Drogon, who had been waiting in the shadows for her. She saw Jon start to back away from the throne and a smirk came to her face. “No need to fear, Jon Snow, fire can not kill a dragon.”

Jon remember Bran speaking those words to him and he wonder how true they were. Nonetheless he kept his distance as Drogon moved between them, Daenerys at his side. Jon gave the throne one, last look.

“Dracarys.” Daenerys said and Drogon’s mouth tore open, fire brimming from his throat, covering the Iron Throne, melting it until there was nothing left.

-

The hustle and bustle of Winterfell was a welcoming sight and the warm feeling of comfort washed over Jon as he walked through the snow-covered paths of his home. Sansa had arrived a few weeks before he did, as he had stayed behind to help make arrangements with the people to start cleaning and rebuilding King’s Landing for the Council of the Kingdoms, or at least, that’s what they were calling it for now. Arya had gone with Gendry to reclaim the Storm Land’s and help him prepare to be their Lord and representative. Tormund had said his goodbye, finally returning beyond the Wall, although he told Jon that he had better come and visit after winter had passed. Jon felt like he was in a dream and was terrified he would wake up at any moment back at the Wall or in Dragonstone. His eyes moved over crowds of people, some whispering as he passed, but he paid them no mind, he was only looking for one person. He found her, moments later, looking over Winterfell, snow calmly falling around her. It was a heavenly sight and Jon felt like he could have stayed in that moment forever.

“Your grace.” Jon said with a smile and he caught Sansa rolling her eyes when she spotted him.

“I’m not the queen yet.” She said as he strolled over to her. “Besides, I’ll always just be Sansa.”

“Sansa.” Jon said as he stopped just in front of her. He had thought a lot about what he wanted to say to her and how he wanted to say it. He was never really good a big, romantic gestures or expressing his feelings.

“Jon.” She said because he wasn’t Aegon Targaryen. He was Jon, just Jon. All of her fears, all of her worries, and jealousy had washed away and now her heart was open and waiting for him.

“I never thought I would miss the snow.” Jon said as he let a few flakes fall on his fingertips.

“I never thought I would miss you.” Sansa said with a coy smile. “Out of all the directions my life took, I never thought it would bring me straight to you.”

“You missed me?” Jon asked smirking slightly, but it faded into a soft smile because Sansa looked so beautiful and he couldn’t stand not being hers for a moment longer.

“More than you could ever know.” Sansa said as she leaned into him, her parted lips meeting his eager and waiting ones. Jon pulled her closer, his hunger taking over, practically melting into her. When they finally parted they leaned their foreheads against each, eyes closed, and swollen lips smiling. They could take their time, because they had forever, and that was good enough for them.

“You love me?” Sansa murmured.

Jon loved her everyday, for all of his days. Since he had held her in his arms at the Wall. “More than you could ever know.” He said before he kissed her again.