[Privat] Game of Thrones - Winter Love

LadyGhoost


The large gathering of Freefolk has settled down for a time, the huts are made from whatever animal hides they have been able to find. In a sea of white and grey fur clad people a figure in black stands out, carrying firewood and kindling for the hearths, working as hard as the next man.
Jon Snow, former King in the North and Lord of Winterfell had done what he thought was right and been punished for it, sent into exile by what used to be his brother. It's been almost four moons since he saw the walls of Castle Black, even longer since he'd seen Winterfell and her. For three moons he's heard the countless japes and jokes from Tormund about how fire seems drawn to him, how miserable he looks, more than usual the red haired man would always add before laughing loudly. The work helps to keep his mind off everything but some nights he wakes in cold sweat, smelling the charred human flesh , seeing the bodies of children burned and reduced to cinder, the memory of the smell can still make him gag.
A new days ago a raven found the camp and him, the letter was sealed with the Stark sigil , he's read the scrap of paper over and over again but he hasn't found the strenght to reply. As Jon readies himself for another night in his tent, he finds himself thinking of Sansa , how regal she must look, crown and all. "I pray she is not lonely" is all he allows himself to think of her for the moment.
A few restless hours pass, he's dined and drank with the people in the camp but the moment he returns to his tent and the fading fire in the hearth, his mind wanders again. "How sweet it would be to hold her again, feel her soft hair against my cheek" a small smile dances on his lips as he remembers her.

Despite that some time had passed, she had far from gotten used to her title. As a young girl she had dreamt of becoming a princess and a queen, but as the year passed, that dream had become nothing more than a nightmare, bringing painful memories to her. Memories that now was a part of her, a part she wouldn't change for anything. The pain had been real, the struggle and the fear, but she had grown from it, just like she had told the Hound. If she had gone with him, she had remained a little bird, and she hadn't learned anything from life.

But some things was hard to ignore and change. Seeing her title, she should use the master bedroom, the one her parent's had used, but she didn't. After all Ramsey did to her, she refused to use it. Instead she had turned her old bedroom into her permanent chamber, to little protest from others. Sometimes she felt like they walked on shells around her, scared of anger her, or give her painful memories. She didn't wished for her people to think about her like that, and she hoped she could change it over time. But she admitted it was strange to think of them as her people. It was true, that if she had become Joffrey's queen, everyone had been her people, but that dream had come to an end long ago. And when it did, she never thought anyone would be her people. But seeing her brothers die, the clime to Winterfell felt on her, but it meant that Ramsey became a part of her life. And when he no longer wasn't, Jon became the king in the North, and she no longer had a clime, not in the same way. True she was Lady of Winterfell, but nothing more. But back then it didn't mattered, because she had Jon by her side, and she didn't cared about much more.

However, everything had changed when Dany entered the picture, taking Jon from her, making him go south. She had learned the hard way that going south was never a good idea, for the Starks! Maybe Bran was the exception, now being king, something she still had a hard time to grasp. Just like the fact that she now was queen, after everything she was queen. But it was without Jon. She hated the fact that he had saved them all from that Dany. Awful wasn't even strong enough to describe her, maybe bitch was better, but she felt like that wasn't enough either. But Jon had saved them, and what had happened? They had banned him. Sansa had no say in it, and she knew that it had to happen, but she didn't accept it, and didn't like it.

Jon gave it all for them, and now, he was banned, when he should be king, or at least a hero. She had nothing against Bran being king, she loved her little brother, or had. She did't know what she thought of Bran anymore, but she saw it as unfair that Bran had done nothing, and yet he became king and banned Jon the first thing he had done. Sansa closed her eyes for a second, to calm herself, knowing that the anger wouldn't help. Hadn't for the past months, and wouldn't either. Instead she walked away from the window, over to her desk, sitting down, and in the light of the candles, she started writing some important documents.

That night Jon dreams of her, the warm smile that always drives him foward, sapphire coloured eyes that gleam with joy and become hard as ice in anger. Anger and jealousy that was some of the things he'd seen last in her eyes, when he took his Aunts side in cause, let her come into their home with her monsters, it was only to save The North, to keep her and his family safe. His brother let him to labeled a traitor , Queen and Kinslayer, not a good title but then again, titles never seemed to have done him much good.

In the morning he breaks his fast with a small group, again with Tormund by his side. "I'm followed by fire" He thinks, even the redhaired man, his friend sees that something is amiss, he suggests that Jon takes a wife or at least beds one while he can still find his prick. Jon can only offer the man a small smile and shakes his head, it's nothing he hasn't hear a hundred times over. "How can the madman who rode a dragon be afraid of fucking!" exclaims Tormund with a laugh. As a response Jon only stands up and replies "We still have work to do" another few hours of chopping wood, Ghost finds his way to his side again earning the Direwolf a scratch behind his good ear.

During midday he swears that he can hear someone calling his name. "It sounds like Sansa" he muses, the thought lingers and gnaws at him like the ice cold winds of the North. "She doesn't want to hear from me, it's best I leave her be" another thought that scratches it's way to the front of his mind. "Just a craven boy" the voice sounds too much like Ser Alliser he thinks.

A few more hours pass and the thought of Sansa and the sound of her voice echo in the wind, driving him mad , so with quick steps he finds himself in his tent, writing back to her , replying in a polite way, not the way a brother would write his sister but in the way someone would write to their Queen. A Queen she is, A Queen without a King

The raven flies on quick wings, bound for Winterfell, it would be a few days before he received a reply mayhaps longer , he just needed to wait, unless she was too cross and refused. As if Jon feels the eyes staring at him he turns around, seeing the smiling face of his friend , a far too knowing one for his liking.

Sansa awoke, only to see that she had fallen asleep at her desk, again. At this point, it wasn't surprising anymore, as it had been in the beginning. It was a huge different of the amount of work she had to do as Queen, compared to Lady of Winterfell, she thought it wouldn't be much difference, seeing she ruled over so much of the north before, but as Queen, she had other countries to respond to, and connect. The one she wrote to the most was without a doubt Bran, seeing they were siblings, but also ruled on the same island. A few of the other countries around the world had contacted her, and established contact, and offer. It was a polite thing to do, and she had answered just as polite.

A few letters of proposal had also arrived, to no surprise. She knew she was an attractive woman, both in looks and title, but she have had enough husbands, and fiancés to last her a life time, and she couldn't stop thinking of Jon. She should, know that all to well. She knew that he was a lost cause, welcoming him back would be more troublesome than anything else, yet he was like no other man she had met, and he really saw her in a way no one else did. Of course it wasn't a difficult task to be better than anyone of the others, seeing Tyrion was the only kind of them, but she had never felt anything for the man. Tyrion was a good man, and the smartest she knew, but he was nothing compared to Jon. She glanced at the letters again, asking for her hand, before she stod up, refusing to answer them now. She knew that all of them would sound the same, and she didn't felt to deal with the repeating task at the moment, no she needed breakfast.

The day had passed like most of her days, meetings with her banner men, her people, responding to different letters, trying to have some time for herself, and planning for the future. It was a busy schedule, but nothing she couldn't handle. She knew how to lead, how to use the time well, and she also knew that it would settle down over time, especially since things would be more stable. Establishing a new country with everything it meant was a lot of work, especially since she would need to visit a lot of the places within her kingdom, in time. It was still to early, seeing everything wasn't done in Winterfell, but over time she would leave, wishing to see it for herself, not trusting peoples reports. It was easy to lie through text, harder in person.

So when the day was done, she felt more tired than yesterday, something that pleased her, meaning she would be able to sleep in the bed, not needing to work herself to exhaustion to be able to sleep. Otherwise the nightmares, or the longing for Jon would keep her awake, but as she returned to her chambers, she saw two ravens, waiting for her. She walked over, accepting the messages, knowing she had no intention to answer them at this hour. She saw that the first one was from Arya, and she smiled a bit, seeing it sounded like her sister was happy. But she also knew that she could answer her in the morning. The other messages was from Jon. She had written to him, knowing it was wrong, and she half on half expected no answer, mostly because she doubted the raven would be able to find him, and the other one was because she didn't knew if he would be honorable enough not to answer her. She had been weak, knowing she shouldn't have written him, but she had over time bent the rules more than she had as a kid. But Jon was a honorable man, and she wasn't sure he would go against his honor, just to answer her. She sat down, messages in hand and smiled, a smile she only had for Jon, as she read the letter, thinking about what to answer him.

The moment Jon sent the raven, he regretted it, dreading what he had done. "Love is the death of duty" he could hear Maester Aemon say in his head. What good at love brought him over the years? only pain and sorrow but he did manage to save his sisters, that makes his heart lighter once again if only for a moment before the work around the camp needs to be resumed.
In the wind he can sometimes hear the screech of the wraiths and monsters that he fought not long ago and as a rule , he keeps his dragonglass knife with him , always.

The Freefolk have jokingly begun to call him King, no real title as the the people hear to not care but he is a leader, a bloody good one , as Tormund says. The flamehaired man is about the only friend he has left, apart from Ghost that is and he's glad, at least he's not alone. He absentmindedly scratches Ghost behind the ear as the great Direwolf has finished dragging pieces of an elk back to the camp. "You did well" a soft praise to the one who's always been there , the sigil of house Stark. A frown crosses his face "Scattered and dead, that's what we are" something he believed he only thought slipped past his lips, as much of a truth for the Ghost and his siblings as it was for Jon.

He lets himself think of the siblings he lost and the ones he never knew, all slain by mountains and monsters. Jon's mind wanders again to Sansa, she outlived and outsmarted her monsters and madmen, for that he's glad. He's never reveled in war or fighting, never liked killing. "It was necessary, I did what I thought was best" that is something he's been telling himself very often for these past few years.
The letter from Jon is short and polite. "I graciously accept Her Grace, Queen Sansa's invitation to Winterfell , I feel leave at earliest convenience when the weather clears,
Jon Snow"

As Jon lays in bed, wrapped in many layers of fur with the fire ablaze his mind wanders to Sansa again, how happy she had seemed when the sat together, the brightness his her eyes and the flames that danced around her, giving her auburn hair a fiery glow in the dim lights of the Great Hall. That memory stirs more emotions than it should. "Gods forgive me" he whispers into the emptiness of the tent.
The following morning is filled with guilt and disgust, Jon forces down his morning meal and returns to whatever duties and work he can manage in the harsh winds.

Sansa had stared at the few words, smiling until it hurt, but also worried. She would be thrilled to see Jon back here, more than thrilled, but she wasn't sure about everyone else. Her people would most likely not mind, they had loved Jon, most likely still did, having no reason not to, but it wasn't them she feared. Everyone had spies everywhere, Little Finger had thought her that, and it was true, she knew that, because she had spies in a lot of places. She had established them as soon as she had been able, both in cities within her borders, but also in Kings Landing. Maybe it was wrong, spying on your brother, but with Bran's abilities, he had knowledge and powers she never would. He had all the good people down there, he had taken Tyrion, Brienne, Davos and Sam, and besides that, all the Lord and Ladies from the other parts. She didn't regret being on her own, her people deserved that, but she also needed to be aware of what happened around the world, besides open communications.

Seeing she had spies, she knew that others had here as well, especially here, seeing she was a new Queen, the land was wide, but strong, and the needed to keep an eye on them. She knew she could do as she wanted, inviting Jon, but Bran and the others wouldn't be happy about it. Bran should, but she felt that her younger brother wouldn't, seeing he wasn't the Bran she had known. She wasn't even sure he could feel anymore, or if he was just a shell. But accepting Jon here would lead to trouble, she knew that, all her advisers will tell her how risky it is, as she wouldn't know. But it was Jon, and even if she hadn't felt something for him, she hated seeing him banned, away from his home, his family, and everyone that loved him. Bran would never invite him, and it seemed like all his former friends had an easy time banishing him, like Jon didn't matter. Arya was most likely as upset as she was, but her sister had left the country, and for a second it sounded like a dream. Sansa had no desire to leave, but being able to leave and don't care what anyone thought or said, would be perfect. Arya knew she could return to Winterfell whenever she felt like it, and be welcomed like a princess, if she wanted. Knowing the younger one she would most likely sneak in, without telling anyone. Arya would ride to Jon, if she returned, never abounding him. Sansa wished she could do the same, but if she, the Queen, rode beyond the wall, people would talk and her Kingdom would be out of balance, and most likely fell into chaos. Inviting Jon was the only way, but it was risky, and she knew she shouldn't have done it.

But the smile she had on her lips told her otherwise. She sighed, she knew better than listen to her emotions, Little Finger had tried to tell her to rule with logic and brain, not emotions. And it had worked, until Jon entered her life again, with him in it, she felt like the naïve, young girl she ones had been.
"Get it together Sansa" she told herself as she stood up, looking at the message. Seeing Jon call her queen felt wrong, as they were kids again. She had acted like she was a Queen, ordering her brothers around. Rob had gladly done it, and back then Rob had been her biggest idol, she had loved him over everything. When she was really young, it had been the same with Jon, until she took after her mother, then she had just ordered Jon around, being more mean than she needed to. It was no wonder that he chose to spend his time with Arya when she got older. At first Sansa had gotten angry, wondering how he dared, but Rob had made her forget about it, and the games with Jon sone became a distance memory. But when he now called her Queen, she couldn't hinder herself from remembering. They had come a long way from that, and they had left their childhood behind them, yet she felt bad for how she treated Jon, glad she wasn't the same idiotic girl anymore.

Or maybe she was, inviting him here. She sighed, she should write back, tell him it was a misstake, instead she grabbed the quill, and started writing something else.
'It pleases me to hear from you, fearing the Raven wouldn't find it's way. I await your arrival, and hope for a safe travel'
She looked at the words, and sent them with the Raven before she could regret the words more than she already did, hating how she fought an inner battle, knowing all to well what was right and wrong, and still did the wrong thing. She sighed once more, starting to replay Arya, seeing she no longer felt a desire for sleep.

As the howling winds settle across the snow covered land it makes breathing , working and living easier again, Jon would be lying if he said he didn't feel free here in the North, beyond the Wall. The North has always been his home and hopefully it always will be. He keeps himself focused and mind busy while working, be it fletching arrows or helping to prepare a meal, no one had certain tasks here and no one cares about your lineage, here it's only survival that matters. The regret and nausea come bubbling up as his thoughts wander to his aunt, The Dragon Queen, historically the Targaryens have always wed close to their family line but most noble houses have, cousins mayhaps but not aunts or sisters and again Jon begs for forgiveness and hopes that the Old Gods hear his plea. Once the firewood is stacked and kept dry in one of the tents , he makes his way around the camp , seeing what else he can do. The cawing of ravens overhead draws his attention, they do not land, simply soar past the camp as if they're surveying the area. "Bran, is has to be, or whatever he is now" Jon thinks bitterly, he loves his little brother but that thing in a husk is not the brother he grew up with.

Later that day towards nightfall, the sound of drums and flutes fill the air with music, most of it is in the Old Tongue, something Jon hasn't grasped yer, the Common Tongue will have to suffice, for now. Jon allows himself to succumb to the rhythm of the drums and deep voices that echo through the valleys and snow covered plains. The women and some men dance full of joy to have survived such horrors. A smile crosses his lips, the good mood seeps through his bones, allowing him to enjoy the company and food. Out of habit, Longclaw still hands from his belt, luckily Jon hasn't had to use it yet for months, he prays he never has to. A few women urge him to dance, he kindly declines.

No sooner does his mind paint the image of Sansa, in a fine dress, singing to delicate strings of the harp, so unlike the crude drums and flutes the Freefolk play. Sansa and her songs, he hasn't heard her sing in years, he wonders if her voice is still as sweet when she sings, a part of him hopes so, yearns to hear it. Perhaps her voice is somewhat deeper now, but still soft and calming something that could put a babe to sleep. He smiles at that thought, a babe. That notion disappears as quickly as he came, disturbed by the cawing of ravens. Does one bring news from Sansa, was she not true in her meaning. He stands, heading over to where the ravens usually land, searches for a scroll at their feet, it is not difficult to see on the black leg.Jon unfurls the paper and reads it. "Sweet words" words that make him smile but it does not last.

A few days later Jon begins to pack for his journey to Winterfell, supplies and other essentials. The weather has finally let up , allowing for safe passage through the mountains. As expected, Tormund will stay behind since "The Big Woman" is no longer at Winterfell. "A waste. Sansa might have need of her" another thought that does nothing but cloud his mind with anger. "She should have stayed, she swore and oath, Kingsguard offer or not. But honor can only take so that far" a quick glace at Ghost who found his way back to Jon's side. Another pet for Ghost while the people get a quick goodbye and a jape from Tormund, nothing strange there.The ride to Winterfell takes days, as they trudge through deep snow and biting winds from the peaks and sheltered places. Half way on his journey, another flock of ravens fly overhead, watching it would seem, watching what? him? he didn't dare hope not. The sight of the castle warm Jon's heart and bones, the repairs seem to be coming along nicely and the Stark banners are flying high, things must be going well in the build but how well is he Queen? The gates open for him as the guards know the darkhaired man but now , mayhaps mistrust him, do they label him a Queen and Kinsalyer or a saviour? of that he is not certain. Jon quickly dismounts his horse , handing the reins to the stableboy as he's greeted by the Maester who gladly leads him to the Great Hall, but there is no sign of the Queen.

Sansa wondered how bad the weather became beyond the wall? The past couple of days had brought the snow, more than usual, but it still put a smile to her lips. As a young girl she had hated the snow, dreaming of green meadows, flower fields and the warm sun. She had gotten all that, and learned that it didn't made her happier, didn't made much difference. The people in the south had always sounded happier, compared to the harsh men of the North, but she had learned that warmer weather didn't made your heart warmer. The south, despite all it's beauty was a horrid place to live! More people got killed there than here, and she felt that she was one of the few who survived the south, and learned to enjoy the beauty of the North. Arya didn't saw it in the same way, always seeking new places, but for other reasons than most. Bran didn't favorited the North enough to stay here, instead he went to the south. To be truth she wasn't sure what his reason was, it was true that he would be a good king, and Tyrion had been right, but there were others who had been good as well. But maybe it was for the best, having a Stark on the throne, one that wouldn't attack the North. She wasn't unsure for how long the North would be safe. As long as Bran lived, most likely, after that, who knew? That's why she sought to make the North stronge again, making it impossible to take from her and her people.

She didn't trust the southerners, knowing that someone, one day would try to take back the North, but she wouldn't let that happen, not as long as she was Queen and alive. She would teach her heir to play the game, to outsmart the southerners. Few could play the game as well as she could, and the ones that had, well besides Tyrion, most of them were dead, and maybe it was for the best. If Little Finger was alive, he wouldn't have left her alone, none of them, wanting the throne, and throwing the kingdoms into chaos once more. No she was pleased that he was gone, just like so many others. A cruel thing to think, but she morned few people, had stopped doing so for years. After all the death she had seen or known off, there were no more tears, or they were at least hard to come by. She had mourn Theon, after all he had done for her, she wished he had been by her side now. Having one friend and good adviser here, would have had made her life easier.

The people around her was good people, but not people she fully trusted, not knowing them well enough. A struck of loneliness came over her, not unusual this days, but she tried not to think of it, at least Jon was on his way, that made her smile. However, not without regret. She had told her advisers, and they had, as she had expected told her that it was a bad idea, one she didn't cared to listen to. She expected the letters from Bran to arrive soon, and she needed to came up with a good excuse, one she hadn't found yet. Telling Bran that she was alone, and wished to see someone from her family, may appeal to her brothers feelings, if he has any left, but not to Bran the King. But at this moment she didn't care, seeing that Jon had entered the town.

She had seen him from her window, where she was standing, dressed in black as she almost always was, and a coat covering her, seeing that the castle was mostly cold. Her room was warm, but she was ready to leave and meet Jon. She had her crown, still unused to it, on her head as she went to the Great Hall. She had given orders that she would be occupied with Jon's visit, no matter what everyone else said. The guards opened the door for her, and she stepped inside, seeing him stand there, next to the Maester.
"Thank you Maester" she stated and the man bowed, as he utter 'My Queen' and soon left the room. The guards was still there, even if she couldn't see them, and she wasn't sure of who else, but she knew that others were, even if she couldn't see them.

"Welcome back to Winterfell Jon" she said in a polite voice, hating that she needed to speak to formal with him. "I am pleased to see that your life beyond the wall, hasn't seem to treated you all to bad"
She walked over and gave him a small, but genuin smile.
"Let me show you to your chambers, offering you a chance to freshening after you long journey, before we speak more" she signed for him to follow her.

The long ride had taken a toll on his body, the cold had creeped through his gloves and set on his finger, making them an angry red and shooting pins and needles as he moves them. Being back in Winterfell as a relief, as well as seeing the builders do their best to restore the castle inside and out "Sansa is ruling well" he thought, letting a small smile finds it's way onto his lips as trails behind the Maester, a man still not accustomed to the bitter cold of the North. The people who had survived the Battle of Wintefell greeted him with kindness and smiles but that was barely a handful, the others saw him for a Queenslayer and most likely feared for their own Queen's safety. All he had done was his duty, protected the North and his family the best he could that's all he's ever done. The familiar scent of crackling wood and walls, even the walls had a smell, how could he have forgotten that? Something else lingered there , a sweet scent, the smell of home. of her.

At that very moment as if she had heard his thoughts, Sansa stood before him, Jon felt his breath catch in his throat, she looked beautiful , every bit the Queen she was meant to be. He quickly falls to his knees , bowing his head, his eyes set on the stone floor. "Thank you ,Your Grace" be begins, the words feel as if they're scratching his throat, clawing their way up past his lips."Thank you for reciving me." a soft sigh passes his lips. "I am accustomed to being beyond the wall, the winds and work kept me busy, Your Grace." an honest reply, that had always been the problem, honesty and honor, it seemed to lay deep in the Stark blood and the men suffer for it. The only reason why he had a made it back alive to the North was because of her, Sansa and the steel in her voice and words, a true Queen. Jon stands up, daring himself to look at her, he can't help but to smile, the small warm smile that was only for her, ever since the day they found eachother again in Castle Black. Something had stirred in him that day, something that drove him to nearly beat Ramsay Bolton half to death before Sansa had stopped him, love makes a man do foolish things. "Thank you, Your Grace, that is very kind" he replies as he takes a few steps towards Sansa, keeping a fair distance.

The walk through the broken halls does not feel as tense as he thought it would, her presence alone gives off his warmth, sense of home. is that only for him? "I must look a mess." a small jest but it must be the truth, he's ridden for days straight , as quick as he could without killing his horse. The fur on his cloak is covered in snow and ice, as is his hair and beard, a snowman would be accurate, like the ones they used to build when they were children, sticks for swords and with a old helmet ontop. "I am glad that you are well, S - Your Grace" a slip of the tongue, one can't be too familiar with a Queen, even if she is kin. The warmth from the old walls is soothing, he feels at home again, Beyond the wall and the tents may be home too but he grew up here, he's been here longer than he has in that tent. Jon reminds himself that this is not his home anymore, Bran made sure of that, instead of letting him return home, he didn't need a title , didn't want it, never has. King Brandon, his little brother, that couldn't have been Bran, if there was anything left of the boy, any heart , it did not show. For everything that's happened, they had all retained something of their old selves, Arya was still wild and he saw it in her eyes. Even Sansa, the old sweet Sansa who loved songs and tales, part of her was still there, he was unsure of how much. Not that they had gotten along well at all during their childhood years , not at all. he remembers the looks, ones trained by Lady Catelyn, who hated him so, would she still have wished him away had she known the truth? a part of him hopes not.

For what seems forever, they reach his chambers and some more formal words of gratitude leave his lips. "It was very kind of you to allow me to visit, Your Grace" In the harsh daylight that seeps in from the windows, her hair seems to shine and Jon needs to remember to breathe.

Seeing Jon on his knees, bowing and calling her 'Your Grace' reminded her, once more of their childhood. She had made Jon and Rob call her that. Rob had loved too, calling her, his Winter Princess. She had never reflected over what Jon may feel, not then at least. But seeing how she had treated him, she wouldn't blame him if he really hated her back then. She wished she could go back and school her old self, letting her now what an bitch she was. There was no other word for it, she had really been an unpleasant brat, but if she had schooled her old self, she may never have turned out to she person she now was, so maybe it was worth it all. Or not maybe, it was worth it! She was pleased with who she was, and what had become of the North! The only thing she wasn't pleased with was Jon's faith, but who said that would be different, if her faith had been different. Their faith hadn't been bound together until resent, and when it had been, everything came between them.

The time before everything change, before everyone returned, when it had been just him and her, had been almost perfect! Ramsey had been eaten by his dogs, a faith he deserved! It wasn't words she would ever speak, but she was pleased that Jon hadn't killed him, giving her that option, showing him what he made her! Sometimes she surprised herself, seeing how much all the men in her life changed her, made her colder and more withdrawn. And then there was Jon, the man who could make her smile, only the thought of him made her smile. And now when he was standing infront of her, she had to force herself not to show how excited she was, smiling like a child. For everyone who saw them, the smile she gave Jon was different, but not out of place, and could easily be explained with that he was family. Unless Bran said something, most likely knowing everything, something she didn't like that. It was bad enough that he knew about her wedding night with Ramsey, and even if she couldn't blame her brother for not protecting her, it felt like a betrayal, seeing he knew and didn't try to help her in anyway. She was sure that he could have, even sending down some ravens, attacking Ramsey would have helped her. But then, once again, she may have turned out to be a different person.

"This is your home, as much as it is mine Jon" she simply answered, knowing people wouldn't like that, but Winterfell had been Jon's home longer than it was hers, seeing he was older than her. It may not be what it had been, for better or worse, but it was still home, and Jon deserved to be here. He had protected it! He had fought for them! And he had given them life back! She on the other hand had been down in the crypt, not doing a thing, besides speaking with Tyrion. She wasn't a fighter, a planner, without a doubt, but fighting, not so much. She wasn't like Arya, never wanted to be, preferring the mind over sword. But Jon had fought, and for what he did to them, he deserved to be here. He deserved so much more! She had a crown and her title, pleased so, but Jon deserved it as equal much, if not more, seeing what he had done for them! Once again she felt the anger rise and she repressed it, knowing nothing good would come out of it.

She heard Jon's step behind her, but she didn't liked having him behind her, and she slowed down, so he could walk next to her. This may be one of the things that people wouldn't see as to strange. She was aware that people should walk behind her, but she preferred to have them by her side, not only so she could keep an eye on them, being prepared for what they may do. It was also because she found it simpler to have a conversation with the person, and read their feature. Jon wasn't like anyone else around her, and she simply wanted him by her side, because she liked it. Having him walk by her side made her feel safer than she did with the guards around. She could also steal glances at him, as she didn't thought he was real. It had only been a few months since she last saw him, but it felt like it was forever.

Sansa turned towards him, with another small smile, she wished had had used her name, instead of her title, but she didn't comment on it, couldn't at the moment.
"I am as well as I can be" she started, she wished to ad 'especially now when you are here', but she hindered herself. "Being able to see how the North starts to blossom again, gives me happiness"
The guards opened the door when they reached the chambers and she almost sighed, she had been against the idea of posting guards outside Jon's room, but she had lost that battle. Her advisers insisted, seeing if he was to come here, they wanted her to be safe. A ridicules thought, seeing Jon was the least person she feared, but she had accepted it, so he could visit.
"I apologise for the guards" she gave him an apologising smile. "There is a warm bath, waiting for you if you wish, and when you feel ready, inform the guards and they will lead you to my chamber, and we can have dinner"
"My Queen" the guards nodded, accepting her orders. Once again she was pleased that she often accepted special guests to her chambers, when she wanted to talk, not wishing to eat in the Great Hall, so people wouldn't find it strange. She gave Jon one last smile before she forced herself to walk away.

She wished she could stay by his side, almost scared he would disappear again, a ridicules thought, but yet she thought of it. She forced herself to continue walking and not looking back, knowing she would return to him if she did. She soon reached her chambers and closed the door, as she did she let go of a breath she had been holding. Jon was here! At Winterfell! She wished to tell him how sorry she was about all of it. She wished to tell him that he always was welcome here, and how much she had missed him! Yet she was forced to act like she did with everyone else, just she few minutes she did, was exhausting. She took a deep breath as she walked over to her neatly desk, everything in her chambers was in perfect order, just like she wanted it, and she sat down, grabbing a few documents, feeling that it was best to keep busy while she waited, not wishing to crawl the walls.