Work Header


Chapter Text

Jon had heard the stories when he returned to Winterfell about the wolf that stalked the grounds on full moons, howling and hunting in the woods. They said it left trails of blood in the white snow from its kills, and that sometimes, the entrails it left behind looked human.
Jon had seen and experienced enough in his short life to not dispel the stories out of hand. It wasn’t every day one fought White Walkers, saw giants, or came back from the dead. And he had in fact been dead…in a way… until the red-haired witch had brought him back. Before that he’d been inside his direwolf, Ghost – something else he had never experienced before. And then there he was. Alive as the fire that had been set to his body consumed him. It gave life instead of taking it away.

He learned that he was part of the Targaryen family. And now a prince. His father had not been Ned Stark, but Rhaeger Targaryen. His mother, Lyanna Stark. So, he was still a Stark, but only half. He didn’t feel only half though – he was a Stark in his mind through and through no matter his ability to walk through fire. Through this, he’d gained a new set of relatives, namely Queen Daenerys. She now occupied the Iron Throne.

When she’d asked him what he wanted to do if not marry her and rule by her side, he had only asked for two things: to return to Winterfell since he was, as far as he knew, the last remaining Stark (even if only by half), and to have Arya searched for. He was under the impression Rickon and Bran were dead, and Sansa too.

Dany had granted his request and yet warned him that eventually she would require him to marry. He knew he would put that off for as long as possible.

So now here he was, working hard to restore Winterfell to its former glory. He had his own advisors and men to train to defend Winterfell. He knew he should be happy, but he wasn’t. Not really. He missed his family. That was all he wanted, just them. He’d felt alone for most of his life, having found snippets of happiness here and there, and with things settled in the kingdom – as much as they can be anyway – Jon just wanted some peace. Some quiet. Preferably with the last remaining Stark he had hope was alive.

Now, on the night of first full moon since he’d returned to Winterfell, he watched from a turret to see if he could catch a glimpse of this wolf.

When he saw it, he was actually surprised. Perhaps he had learned not to dismiss fantastical stories out of hand, but apparently he rather had.

He watched in fascination as it loped around and around the grounds and when the light of the moon caught on its fur, Jon saw that the fur was red. It was beautiful, almost otherworldly. Definitely larger than most wolves, but was not as large as Ghost. And thankfully, Ghost was currently locked up inside. He’d wanted to watch this wolf alone.

It looked up at him as he stood there watching it. It sat in the snow and just stared at him. He thought he heard it whimper. And then it tore off into the woods and Jon didn’t see it again.

The next morning when he looked out to where the wolf had been, he saw a trail of red in the snow. Curious, he followed the trail out, sword by his side just in case.

He followed the trail of blood and was able to locate another trail of blood that led him further into the forest. When he came upon a cave, he heard rustling and a wail come from the inside. Jon went to the mouth of the cave and peered inside. What he saw took his breath away and shocked him to the core.

Sansa. Sansa was in there.

She was dirty and naked, dried blood on her chin and breasts, and down the entire front of her. She stared at him, shivering, wide-eyed, her hair a tangle. She growled softly.

“Sansa,” he breathed.

She inhaled sharply and sniffed the air. She got down on all fours and moved closer to the mouth of the cave. She whimpered. Jon held out a hand in her direction, scarcely able to believe what he was seeing. She came closer and sniffed at his hand and then pushed the top of her head into his hand as if seeking for him to pet her.

“Oh, Sansa, what has happened to you?” he murmured.

He rose to his feet and his sudden movement startled her. She growled and scampered back in the cave. He took off his cloak and draped it over his arm. He knelt again and held out his hand. “Sansa, come back. Come back to me…”

Slowly she made her way back out, sniffing the air and watching him warily. When she was before him he pointed to the cloak. “I’m going to put this on you.”

She made some kind of sound in the back of her throat that Jon took for approval, and slowly draped his cloak about her shoulders. He took her hand, it was cold and dirty. “Can you stand, Sansa?” He ever so slowly rose to his feet. “Like this.”

She grunted and slowly began to rise.

He held out his hand to her. “Will you come with me? Into Winterfell?”

She grunted and nodded and Jon led them slowly through the forest and back to their home. This, he had not expected.


Jon led Sansa back to their home and his heart ached as he watched her struggle to walk correctly. It was as if it was a strain for her, as if she was just learning how. How long, he wondered, had she been walking on all fours?

When they made it to the gate, she looked up and made a keening sound in the back of her throat.

“We’re home, Sansa,” Jon told her. “Winterfell.”

She saw tears in her eyes. He wanted to weep as well. After thinking his family dead and gone, it brought him joy to see one returned…and sorrow to see what they had been returned as. Though what she exactly was, Jon couldn’t say. Part wolf? How was this possible? How was the White Walkers possible? came the next thought.

Right then. Anything was possible.

The gates opened and in they went, Jon making sure they were closed behind them. People stopped and stared, pausing in their tasks and wherever they were headed to, to watch them. Murmurs spread like a hum throughout the crowd. Jon glared at them as his hand tightened around Sansa. He wanted to yell at them, but he was afraid to frighten her.

She whined and Jon drew her close to his side. “Go about your business then!” he shouted. Sansa jumped and then growled and buried her face in his chest. Jon held her close. “She is your Queen! The Queen of the North!”

Some didn’t stop their staring. Others looked shamed and went about their business.

Jon made the trek to her old bedchamber. On the way, he stopped the maids going about their work and told them to ready a bath and begin preparation of the Queen’s rooms. Sansa was home. Winterfell belonged to her, ergo she was the Queen here. He would fight anyone that challenged the claim. Even Daenerys.

When they got to her bedroom door, Sansa stopped and stared at the door, her head tilting to the side.

“It’s your bedchamber, Sansa,” Jon said gently.

She whined again, sounding like a wounded animal. Jon gathered her close. “Tis all right, Sansa. This is your home. Would you like to see?”
She whined again, but it sounded less desperate this time. Jon extracted himself from her arms and pushed her door open and she stood there and stared inside without moving. Jon waited. He wouldn’t push her.

Slowly she stepped forward, her movements a bit jerky.

Her room was, for the most part, untouched. The bedding was gone, as were the drapes, but that was an easy fix. Sansa took everything in, making a small turn about the room.

The maids bustling in with water and a tub for her bath startled her, and she growled and bared her teeth. One of the maids nearly dropped a pail of water in fright.

“No, Sansa, no,” Jon said, rushing to assure her. He sent a stern look at the maids. “Quickly now.”
While the maids worked, Sansa went to one of her windows and peered out, putting her hand upon the glass. Jon remembered a time when he’d look up from the yard where he’d trained with Robb and Theon and see her peering out that very window.

“Rrrrr….” she said. “Rrrr…”

“Are you trying to say Robb, Sansa?” Jon asked quietly as she came up beside her.

She shut her eyes tight and emitted a sound a pure agony. Tears sprang to Jon’s eyes. She was in pain. How long had she been in pain? He imagined it was the same for her as it had been for all them – scattered to the wind with no support and surrounded by people who wanted to use them for one reason or another.

She clawed at the window as tears fell from her eyes, dropping quickly down her cheeks, wetting the dirt and the blood caked on her skin.
Jon grasped her hand to keep her from clawing at the window and she growled at him. “Sansa, no,” he said firmly. He hated this. He spoke to her as one would a family pet.

She jerked away from him and looked down. One of her brushes sat on top of a table. She touched the bristles with her fingers very delicately.

“The bath is readied, Your Royal Highness,” one of the maids said, and her voice shook. Jon wasn’t sure if it was him she feared or Sansa. He was willing to bet it was both of them.

“Thank you,” he said. “Please ready some food for the Queen. As well as her bedding and see if there are dresses about night rails about.”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness.”

“Now, go. The Queen must bathe.”

Jon led Sansa to the bath after the maids had departed and stood before her while she stared down into the water. “Sansa, it’s time for a bath.”

She looked at him. He tugged on the tie of his cloak. “We’re going to take this off and get you clean. Yes?” She grunted and nodded and he slowly undid his cloak, pushed it off her shoulders, and laid it on her bed. He took her hand. “Step in, one foot at a time,” he directed.
She did, wobbling a bit, and then sank down into the tub, almost squatting instead of sitting. Jon instructed her to lean back against the back and spread her legs out before her. She did so and grunted.

Jon took his time washing her. He directed her to dunk her head, and he washed and rinsed her hair and scrubbed the dirt and blood, and
what looked like the flesh of animals out from under her nails. He worked hard and diligently until her pale skin was clean and practically glowing.

Then he directed her to stand and step out of the tub. He dried her off and when she began to shiver, he drew his cloak around her again and had her sit on her bed.

The maids had found garments for her and carried piles of them in. Sansa watched them warily.

Jon dressed her, foregoing a corset – and he didn’t care how scandalous that might seem. She pulled at her garments, showing him she didn’t want them on at all.

“No, Sansa,” he told her. “You have to wear clothes.” He stayed her hands when still she tried to pull them off. “No, Sansa.”

Finally, she stopped.

He plaited her hair and then when the food was brought, he watched as she stuffed dug into the food with her hands, stuffing her mouth as though she hadn’t eaten in months. And, judging by the bones he’d seen when she’d been naked, she hadn’t.

When she looked at him and found him watching her, she stopped eating and wiped at her mouth. She looked embarrassed. It reminded Jon of that prim and proper sister he had once known who adhered to manners so strictly.

“It’s all right, Sansa,” he said gently. “Eat.”

She did, but slower this time.

After she’d eaten every bite and guzzled down goblet after goblet of water, she looked at him sleepily.

“Do you wish to lay down?” he asked.

She nodded and then pointed at him.

“You want me to lay with you?”

She nodded.

“Of course,” he whispered. Hang propriety. Hang everything but making sure Sansa got what she needed and was taken care of. He stood.
“Let us retire to my chambers,” he said. “While they make your bed up and prepare your room. Yes?”

She grunted and followed him down to his bedchamber. She scurried onto the bed, climbing onto it on all fours. When she got to the middle of the bed she stretched her arms out in front of her and her rump went up in the air. She let out a small whimper as she stretched and then lay down on her belly. Jon crawled in beside her, and lay on his side so he could look at her.

She blinked at him and then her eyelids grew heavier and heavier and soon they dropped completely and stayed shut. Jon wasn’t tired. His mind was racing with questions. What had happened to her? How long had she been like this? What would it take to get her back to the way she was?

Finally, after a long time of watching her sleep, he too fell into slumber.

Chapter Text

Jon's eyes popped open at the feel of hands on his body. He tried to sit up and was shoved back down on the bed. His mind reeled. He realized, also, that he was hard.

Sansa, wolf, cave--

"Sansa," he gasped and attempted to sit up again. She shoved him back down and growled, baring her teeth as she hovered over him. Her blue eyes were like slits, her hair like a curtain around her face. She was naked and as he angled his head down and to the side he noticed what he had felt. She'd ripped his trousers off and was on her way to ripping his undergarments off as well. His body must have reacted to her touch while he'd been sleeping. "Sansa, what are you doing?"

She made short work of his undergarments and straddled him. Seven hells, she was wet. Finally, he got it. What she meant to do. "Sansa, no," he gasped.

She cocked her head to the side and her eyes narrowed as she studied him. Then she got into position.

"Sansa, you can't—"

But then she did.

"Bloody hell!" he shouted.

She growled and started to move over him.

Jon's eyes rolled up in his head. Bloody buggering hell she was so wet and tight and he should not at all be enjoying this, but it'd been a long time and FUCK...

"Sansa, this is wrong," he told her as she bounced up and down on his cock. "You just attacked me..." He attempted to sit up and she jutted her hand out and put it around his neck, growling again. She squeezed just a bit and Jon got it - don't move. Don't even try it.

He gave up. There was nothing for it. Despite the fact that his body was responding, this was wrong. He hadn't been willing despite his hard cock, and Sansa wasn't in her right mind. If and when she came back to herself how would she perceive this? Would she think of it as him having taken advantage of her?

He welled up in tears at the impossibility of the situation.

And now he was nearing release.

She must have seen it in his face then for she stopped and cocked her head to the side.

Jon cried out, his cock aching for the release that had been so close. "Sansa..."

She leaned over him and licked at the side of his face where his tears fell. He shut his eyes, trying not think about the feel of her breasts against his chest.

"Please," he whispered desperately and then opened his eyes. She looked at him curiously.

Jon lifted his hips, and she understood now.

Keep going.

She sat up and began to ride him again and soon, so fucking soon, he cried out and came inside her even as he thought - No! I cannot get a babe on her!

And then he felt her silken walls gripping him tight as she milked his seed from him. She threw her head back, her hair brushing his thighs and she howled long and loud.

Unbidden the thought came to Jon as he watched her: Glorious.


“Say my name, Sansa. Say Jon.”

Sansa blinked at him.

“Try, Sansa, please,” Jon begged. They were sitting together in his solar, and after forcing her to stay in her clothes and sit still, he was now trying to get her to speak. She had managed to say Robb’s name a few days ago.

There were places within Winterfell that seemed to trigger her. Places that made her whine and cry and attempt to sound out the names of her lost family. So far only Robb’s name had come successfully.

“Jah-Jah-“she said.

“Close,” he said. “Jo-on.”


“Yes! Closer! Jo-on.”


He smiled. “Close enough, sweetling.”

She tugged at the bodice of her dress and looked at him in question. “No,” he said sternly. “That stays on.”

She frowned and whimpered, and Jon had to hide a smile. This Sansa was a far cry from the proper young lady she’d been. If her old self could see how she preferred to be starkers about the castle, she would be horrified.

And if her old self knew how she claimed Jon every night in the most primal way possible, she would be doubly horrified.

Yes, it was a bit of a problem.

After that first time he’d put her in her own bedchamber that night and barred the door. Problem was, she’d howled so loudly she’d woken the castle. Not to mention scared them. A dozen or so servants had quit the next day. They feared the Wolf Queen; they feared she would rip them to shreds in their sleep.

Jon had had to let her loose and when he had, she’d growled at him and scratched him across the face, drawing blood. Blood that she’d then licked off of him. And then she’d ripped his clothes from his body and mounted him.

He had been disgusted with himself that he’d been hard. That he’d wanted it.

The next night he’d locked her up again and she’d howled her head off again. When he couldn’t take it anymore, when he could no longer bear to hear her in pain, and he was done crying over what had become of his cousin, he let her free. This time she’d clawed so much at the door she’d bloodied her fingers and had lost a few nails.

He never barred the door again.

If she wanted him, she could have him.

He couldn’t deny that he got hard the minute the sun started to set. That the anticipation of her mounting him set his blood on fire.
When the sun rose he told himself what they were doing was wrong. What he was allowing was wrong. He could get a babe on her. She wasn’t in her right mind. She wasn’t Sansa. But even then, when she would nuzzle up against him in the bed they now shared, he could deny her nothing. He nuzzled her right back.

His duties regarding the upkeep of Winterfell were falling by the wayside while he tended to Sansa. Every day he worked with her. He finally managed to get her to keep her dress on, though she would sometimes whine and pull at the material in a plea to take them off.
Slowly, he had introduced the servants that brought them food to her and got her to the point she wouldn’t growl. Or at least growl less. He’d learned soon enough that if one of the female servants got too close to him that would set her off. It was perhaps wrong that he felt a thrill at that.

However, the one time a male servant had brought a tray of food for them and Sansa had curiously sniffed at him, Jon had barked at her to stop. He had been surprised to learn that it hadn’t been merely because she had scared the poor man and it simply wasn’t proper for her to be doing that, but because he had been jealous.

Somehow in her claiming of him, he had claimed her right back. He didn’t want to dwell too much on what that meant. She was his cousin. They’d been raised as siblings. It wasn’t right that they should fuck like this. That they should share a bed. That they should cling to each other in the dead of the night after they’d coupled.

It wasn’t right that he should want her like this.

It was a constant battle between what he felt and what he wanted, and what his duties to her were as part of her family. She was his sister once! She was his cousin now! He should have better control. He should stop her. She listened to him better as the days went on, and he was certain he could stop her now if he was firm with her.

But he didn’t want to. And therein laid the problem.

Perhaps he simply needed her as much as she needed him. After the war and the battles fought…after dying and being resurrected…he was just so tired of it all. Why should he not want something for himself? Why should he not take what little happiness he could find?
Jon sat down across from her and buried his face in hands. Every day he went round and round like this. Every day he struggled with what he should do. Every day he ended up doing what he wanted to do.

He felt her hand on his head, patting him and he looked up at her and found her looking at him curiously with her head tilted to the side.

He smiled wearily. “Just Jon, sweetheart.”



She leaned forward and touched his face, flattening her palms against his cheeks. “What is it, Sansa?” he asked gently.

She seemed to be searching for the word the same she did when trying to say her family’s names. “Sa-sa—“


She nodded. “Sa-ad?”

“A little,” he admitted. “I am worried I’ll never get you back the way you were. And I’m afraid I’m doing wrong by you. I’m afraid I’m hurting you more by coupling with you. I’m afraid that when you are you again you’ll hate me. I’m afraid that I’ll get a babe on you…”




“Afraid. Ah-fray-duh.”



She nodded. “Affrayed.”

“You’re getting better,” he said and just looked at her as she watched him, the concern plain on her face. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Sansa,” he said. “I can’t seem to stop myself when it comes to you and I keep telling myself I should. That I have to. But then you come to me and I can’t not go to you. I can’t stop wanting it. Wanting you.”

And in that instant he knew what he had to do. What he had to do to make this somewhat better for her, and for them.

He would marry her.

Chapter Text

The full moon was coming. Had it really been a full turn since the last one? Since Jon had seen Sansa as a wolf, and had found her the day after, bloody and dirty in that cave?

Jon was afraid. Afraid of the transformation, afraid that he might have to lock her up, afraid to let her loose. While she had survived out in the wild as a wolf for the Gods knew how long, Jon still didn’t like the idea of setting her loose. Plus, he feared that now that the residents of Winterfell had a rough idea that their Queen was part wolf, one of them might get it in their head to kill her. He knew what they thought – that it was unnatural. And maybe it was, but after all Jon had seen and experienced he didn’t feel he could judge. Not until he had all the facts. Besides, it was still Sansa.

What he needed was answers, but he was loathe to alert anyone beyond Winterfell what had become of Sansa. He trusted Dany though, and he hoped that the raven he’d sent her in a plea for help – and her silence – was answered soon. After she advised him on how to proceed, Jon figured he would then tell Dany that he meant to marry Sansa.

In the meantime, Jon watched over Sansa as she grew more and more restless in the days leading up to the full moon. She had taken to coupling with him more often. The past few nights she went all night. And then she’d fall into a sound sleep come morning.

It was then that Jon was able to see to his duties, no matter how much he needed sleep too. This was the only time he’d been able to leave her side since she had been returned to him. And even then she was in his thoughts. Consuming him. Driving him to move forward and do what needed to be done so he could return to her quicker, even if all he did was catch a quick nap beside her.

On the night before the full moon, Sansa had supped with him. He had trained her to use utensils again, but now she had resorted to tearing into her food with her hands. She also couldn’t seem to sit still. Her breathing too had changed. She was like Ghost, panting after a run. Her eyes, he’d noticed, had gone to a deep blue, almost black – and there was barely any white left in them.

“Sansa, do you think we should retire early?” he asked calmly. She seemed to feed off his mood at times and if he was tense, she became tense.

She looked at him, cocked her head to the side, and shook her head.

“Why not, my love?” he asked, and took note how easily that endearment slipped from his mouth.

“Out-out,” she grunted.

“I think we should stay in,” he said.

She shook her head again. “Out! Out!”

He heard Ghost howl down the hall. He had introduced the two to each other a week or so ago, and at first he’d been afraid that Ghost would attempt to harm Sansa in this state. See her as a threat. He hadn’t. In fact, the two had cavorted about like old friends. It had taken Jon a long while after that to set Sansa back to rights, to get her back to acting at least semi-human.

Sansa howled back at Ghost in return and jumped up from her seat and ran from Jon’s solar. He cursed and ran after her and found her clawing at the door Jon had Ghost behind.

“Sansa, no!” he barked at her.

She growled at him and then ran off down the hall, and then down the stairs.

Jon panicked. She was going to go outside!

“Sansa, stop! No!” he shouted after her, but she didn’t listen. Instead, she began to tear at her dress, leaving chunks of material in her wake. That was another thing he’d noticed the closer they go to the full moon: she grew stronger.

She was in nothing but her shift by the time she reached the partially open gates of the castle. He shouted after her, desperate to make her stop. He was aware of people stopping to watch the spectacle. Some in fear. Some in awe. Some a mixture of both. He didn’t care, not this time. All he cared about was keeping Sansa safe.

She stopped abruptly, turned and looked at him, and he thought – yes, yes! She’s stopped! If he could just grab her…

But then she bolted and he heard himself let out an inhuman roar. It sounded like agony. It felt like agony.

When he got past the gates, he searched frantically for her.

She came to him. As a wolf. The red coat just like her hair. Her blue eyes. She loped over to him, sniffed him, whimpered, and before Jon could grab her, she bolted again for the woods.

“Saannnsssaaa!” he screamed after her, feeling as wild and untamed as she was in the moment.

He wanted to run after her but Gods, he didn’t know where she went! It would be impossible to catch up with her.


He turned and ran back inside the castle, pounded the stairs up to where Ghost was and unlatched the door. Ghost came bounding out, panting and whining.

“Go after her, boy,” Jon told him. “Watch over Sansa.”

Ghost bounded off and Jon pinched the bridge of his nose to stem the tears that threatened to fall. Ghost would protect her. Sansa would return to him. She would.

She had to.


Jon spent most of the night pacing, and going to the turret to see if he could catch a glimpse of her. His body ached; he was tired. He needed sleep and he knew it, but this was new to him. He didn’t know how long Sansa had been changed. When he asked the people within the castle when the wolf had started to come, some said a year, some said only through the course of six moons.

He knew Ghost would protect her. He also knew that if she had survived this long, chances were she would survive this night too. But he didn’t like it. It made his skin feel too tight. It made him feel helpless. Powerless. He could do nothing but wait for her to return.

Or, would she find solace in that cave again?

At first light, if she had not returned to him, he would go in search of her.

He sat up in their bed with the window open so he could see the moon, and waited. Soon, his eyes drifted shut and he fell into a deep sleep.

The sound of growling, and his clothes being yanked and pulled was what woke him. His eyes popped open and he found himself staring into Sansa’s blue one. She was naked and dirty, with patches of dirt and mud on her skin and in her hair. Dried blood was smeared down her front.

“Sansa,” he rasped. “Are you hurt?” He reached up and ran his hands over her naked form. He saw a few scratches on her, but nothing pressing. Nothing life-threatening.

She tugged at his breeches and he let her. If she wanted to rip his clothing to shreds she could. She could do whatever she wanted. Just as long as she always came back to him.

“Jon,” she said, pausing in her task, and looked at him.

“Yes,” he gasped. “Yes, sweetling.”

Something snapped inside him. He wanted a little bit of control too. He wanted her just as savagely as she wanted him, and he wanted to show her how much. So, he pushed her forcefully off of him and onto her back. She looked up at him in surprise, and with a low growl in the back of her throat.

To his surprise, she let him discard his clothes without taking over. And then he mounted her and took her in one deep, hard thrust. She howled, her back arching off the bed.

“Yes, Sansa, just like that,” he panted and began to fuck her hard and fast – just the way she liked it. He leaned down and kissed her, something she didn’t do unless he initiated it. She was unpracticed at it, and a bit clumsy, but he didn’t care. He tasted a hint of blood on her, and he thought he should be repulsed by that.

He wasn’t.

He wanted all of her. Every single bit. Everything that she was, was his.

When she came, she howled again, her nails dragging up his shoulders. She had probably shed blood. Again, he didn’t care. Everything that he was belonged to her.

He came after her, spurting his seed deep inside her knowing perhaps he should have had the presence of mind to pull out, but he just didn’t. He wanted her too much. Needed this too much.

He fell against her, his limbs heavy and yet loose. He buried his face in her dirt-matted hair and shut his eyes. “Sansa…my Sansa…”


He smiled and lifted his head to look down at her. “Your Jon,” he said. “I am your Jon.”

She blinked up at him.

“Say ‘my Jon’,” he ordered. “Say ‘my. Jon.’”

“Mmmyyyy Jon.”

“My Jon,” he said again.

“My. Jon.”

He smiled down at her and she smiled back. When Sansa smiled, it was a rare sight indeed, and it had taken some time for it to not look so maniacal – as though she might rip someone’s throat out.

“We need to clean you up,” he said as he ran his hand over her hair and down her mud-caked arms. “My beautiful girl is a mess.”


“Yes. Mess. Dirty.”


He smiled again. She was getting better with her speech. He took her hand and pressed it against his half torn jerkin, right over his heart. “You are my Sansa. Say it. Your Sansa.”

“Yuh-yuh—yooor Sansa.”

“That’s right, sweetheart. Your. Sansa.”

“Your Sansa.”

“Good girl,” he whispered. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”

She only partially appeared to understand what he meant.

Jon moved off of her with a grunt and climbed off the bed. He pulled his breeches on and went in search of the servants, and asked them to bring in a bath.

When he returned to their room he found Sansa on her belly, nuzzling against his pillow, her eyes drifting shut. He came over to her and sat down. He stroked a hand down her hair and over her dirty back. She peered up at him and he patted his lap. She got up on all fours and crawled onto him. He pulled at a nearby fur and dragged it up to wrap around her. She might not have any modesty, and though he felt he was losing his, he knew he still had to mind the proprieties in front of others. She nuzzled against his neck and hummed low in her throat. He hummed back at her and she smiled at him as though he’d just spoken to her in words she understood. He probably had.

This was how the servants who brought up the water for their bath found them. And this is what they would talk about later to their friends. How the Lady of Winterfell (whom the Prince called the Queen) and Prince Targaryen sat together on the bed, lost in their own world, humming and growling and occasionally howling at one another.

Chapter Text

Sansa slept for most of the day after they'd both bathed and broke their fast. Jon put her in her bedchamber while their bed was stripped and redone (they'd gotten it quite muddy), though he had a feeling it would need to be remade yet again if Sansa changed again that night and came back just as dirty.

While Sansa slept, Jon tended to his tasks and considered his options for not only that night if Sansa changed, but for the nights going forward when she did. He was going to have to warg into Ghost. He hadn't done it, at least not voluntarily, since he'd "died". He had seemed to know where to go after The Night's Watch had stabbed him, but he hadn't realized just what had happened until after.

The fact that he was able to do it had made him curious, but it was the events surrounding it that put him off of trying it again. But for Sansa, he would try it. He wanted to see what she did. He wanted to be with her should she find herself in harm’s way.

So, after he'd done what he'd needed and checked on a still slumbering Sansa, he called Ghost to him in his solar. Ghost seemed to know exactly what Jon had in mind, for he sat and looked at Jon almost expectantly while Jon sat in a chair near the fireplace.

And then he focused on Ghost, on what he wanted to see and...

Didn't work.

All right. He was focusing too hard.

After the third try he thought maybe he needed something to help him relax. He asked a passing servant in the hall to bring him a flagon of wine. He wasn't much of a drinker during the day, or at all really, but he wanted to be able to slip into Ghost as soon as Sansa was ready to go.

After a couple glasses, Jon relaxed back in the chair and thought about Ghost and...

He went.

Through Ghost's eyes he saw himself sitting in the chair. The whites of his eyes showing.


Ghost/Jon barrelled down the hall to Sansa's room and was met with the door. He clawed and whimpered at it, wanting inside.

When the door opened, revealing a confused and bleary-eyed Sansa, Jon/Ghost nudged at her. She smiled down at him and ran her fingers through Ghost's fur, and then plopped down on the floor and let Ghost/Jon nudge and nuzzle at her. She giggled and lay back on the floor. Ghost/Jon crawled over her, keeping his legs just outside of her body and peered down at her.

She blinked up at Ghost/Jon. "Jon?"

He nudged and licked her and she laughed, sat up, and threw her arms around Ghost/Jon.

In an instant, Jon flew back into himself. He didn’t know why exactly, except that he was untrained at this. It took him a second to fully feel like himself again, to fully feel himself as inside his body and without the animal instincts of Ghost. He shot up and ran out the door, intent on going to Sansa.

He found her coming toward him already, running and laughing with Ghost at her heels. When she saw him, she stopped and looked from Ghost to Jon quizzically.

He smiled. She hadn't realized that he'd left. To her credit though, it had happened quickly.

Jon reached out and gathered her in his arms. Sansa wrapped her arms around him and he nuzzled into her hair. "I'll come with you next time," he told her.

She pulled back and looked up at him in question.

He pointed to himself. "I'm going to come with you. In Ghost."

Her beautiful face blossomed into a smile and she nuzzled at his chest. Grinning, Jon lifted her head by placing his fingers under her chin, and kissed her. When he broke the kiss, he asked, “Would you like to take a walk outside and see your people?”

She furrowed her brows and shook her head.

Jon sighed. “I wish you could tell me why.”

“Afraid,” she said.

He looked at her in surprise. She remembered to use the word he’d (inadvertently) taught her. She understood the things he said, but lacked the ability to say them herself. Every day she got better at speaking, but it was still a struggle at times. It reminded him of when Dany had tried to teach him some Dothraki. Some of it he could pick up when she would speak to him in that language, but when he went to find the words to reply to her, he couldn’t find them.

“Why are you afraid?” he asked. “Do you think they will be unhappy to see you?”

She nodded.


“Them. Afraid.” She pointed at herself. “Me.” And then her eyes welled up in tears.

“No, you are their ruler,” he said tersely. It wasn’t her he was mad at, but them. At anyone who made her afraid. Who hurt her. Who made her like this. And he knew he was lying by telling her they weren’t afraid of her. They were, but he’d be damned if they showed her that.

She shook her head again.

“You are, Sansa. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Do you remember that?”

She poked him in the chest with her finger. You.

“I’m only half-Stark. Your cousin, remember?”

She poked him again. You.

“What if we ruled together?” he whispered.

She tilted her head to the side in question.

“What if we married?” he asked. “Would you marry me, Sansa Stark of Winterfell? Would you be my wife?”

She nodded eagerly and he laughed, feeling actual joy, and kissed her. “I’ve asked my aunt, Queen Daenerys, if she would allow us to. I am waiting to hear from her.”

Sansa frowned at that, and seemed to be struggling to find the words to express what she was thinking. She pointed to herself. “Not. Know. Her.”

“No, sweetling, you wouldn’t. Not yet anyway. If she allows us to marry I’m sure you’ll meet her.”

She nodded, though she still seemed perplexed.

“Sansa,” he said and she looked up at him. “Can you find the words to tell me what happened to you?”

“Bit. Wolf. Not…Ghost. Mmmark…” She moved out of his arms and plopped herself right down on the floor. She lifted her skirts up over her ankles and pointed to marks Jon had difficulty seeing. He squatted down before her and gently lifted her ankle. He saw it then. A circle of teeth marks, a bit red, but faded. The wolf must have clamped right around her ankle.

“How did this happen? Were you alone? With someone?”

She nodded. “With. Sum.One.”




She nodded.

“Is he alive?” Jon asked. “Dead?”

“Dead. Wolf…kill…him.”

Jon didn’t know who this Peter was, but he meant to find out. He wanted to ask Sansa more questions, but then she let out an almighty yawn, and he didn’t want to press her.

He let go of her ankle, stood, and held his hand out to her. “Do you want to go back to sleep, sweetling?”

She nodded and took his hand and he hefted her to her feet. Jon gathered her in his arms and kissed her forehead. “Then we’ll sleep,” he murmured and she smiled.

Together they walked to her bedchamber and she jumped on the bed on all fours and nestled right under the covers again. Jon climbed in after her after taking off his boots. Sansa nestled herself right into his arms and Jon held her close, tangling his legs with hers. “Don’t leave without me,” he told her. “When you change, wake me. Yes?”

She nodded, nuzzled against his neck, and settled in to sleep. Jon lay awake for a while, wondering about this Peter, and fearing what he might learn when he started to do some digging.


Jon awoke to the feel of a wet nose nudging his arm. When he looked over to where it was coming from, he expected to find Ghost. Instead, he found Sansa. As the wolf.

“You waited for me,” Jon whispered and slowly reached out a hand toward Sansa. She bowed her head and allowed him to pet her. He smiled even while feeling at a complete loss as to how to stop this transformation.

It was a bit surreal to Jon to feel as he did for her because he knew that part of it was the wild and untamed girl she had become with this wolf inside her. Yet there were aspects of the Sansa he knew underneath all that – such as her sweetness. The way she nuzzled up against him and showed concern over him – that was Sansa. The Sansa of before.

Even if she never became herself truly again, if she only remained in this half-state between sometimes human and sometimes animal, he knew he’d never leave her. Never stop taking care of her. Never stop wanting her. Loving her.

He couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened. It seemed he was already in the thick of loving her before he even knew he was falling. Was it the sex? Was it born out of the protectiveness she’d brought out in him? Was it because she was possibly the last vestiges of his family and he’d needed to cling to that, to her?

Jon didn’t know, and maybe it was all of that, but did it matter why? The fact remained he loved her. Needed her. And she needed him.

And yet, she didn’t. That scared him. She might need him to navigate as a human, but her animal instincts had kept her alive for Gods knew how long. Sometimes he worried that she’d just give in to them completely, run off and leave him behind. He saw her struggle sometimes with not giving in to her baser instincts and he wondered if it was possible for her to change at will, or if it only happened on the days when the moon was the fullest. Considering how he’d found her and how difficult it was for her to turn back into being more human than animal, Jon had the sense that she’d been the wolf for a very long time. So, what was it then? Survival instincts that made her turn and stay turned? Had the fact that she knew who he was and felt safe with him kept her human for this long, only being unable to keep that form when the moon was at its zenith?

So many questions. But until she got better with communicating with him, they lay unanswered. He was getting closer to answers though, and he took some comfort in that.

Now, Sansa jumped over him and landed near Ghost on the floor. He laughed, thinking that as the wolf she was as graceful as Sansa of old was. He sat up and watched Ghost and Sansa cavort about on the floor, playing at biting each other.

“Be gentle with her, Ghost,” Jon told him.

Ghost flicked his ears back, a sure sign he’d heard Jon’s orders.

Jon sat back against the headboard, took a deep breath…and warged into Ghost.

Chapter Text

The hunter had heard the stories about the Red Wolf of Winterfell. It was a magical beast, they said, for it could turn human during the day. Sometimes though, it stayed as the Red Wolf.

It protected Winterfell although, as he had heard on his way to hunt the Red Wolf, it was not allowed inside the keep until very recently. It had been locked out, though no one understood why for the Red Wolf was said to protect Winterfell. If anyone came near whom the Red Wolf did not recognize, she would tear their throat out.

Many hunters had tried before to kill the Red Wolf – she was the stuff of legend now, and in such a short span of time, too.

Someone had told him the story of how the Red Wolf was a beautiful woman who looked much like Sansa Stark, sister to the Young Wolf. They had seen her in human form rip a man to shreds when he had attempted to lure her out of her cave. Story had it she had then dragged his entrails about the forest as a warning to others who dared to capture her.

This hunter was not just a hunter looking for a bit of sport though. He was on a mission from the Bolton’s to find this Red Wolf and bring it to them. They believed it was indeed Sansa Stark as she had gone missing when Petyr Baelish had been on his way to deliver her to Ramsay Bolton, whom she was due to wed.

There was some nonsense about a witch the Bolton’s had procured from deep in the forest who claimed she could keep Sansa Stark from transforming into the Red Wolf. When the hunter had left on his task, however, he was left with the impression that the Bolton’s had no real wish to keep her as a human all the time. The idea of having a wolf such as her on their side made them believe they could rise to power again.

The hunter wasn’t too sure about that. In fact, he rather doubted it, but it was in his experience that any man who had held power for any amount of time and then had to give it up, would do anything to retrieve it again.

The Bolton’s believed that Sansa was the key to it all – a way to retrieve Winterfell from Jon Targaryen, and a way to the new Queen on the Iron Throne.

The hunter didn’t care about the politics of it. He just wanted the coin that went with retrieving the Red Wolf – if such a creature did truly exist.

And so, on this full moon night, the hunter made his way through the woods. He wanted to at least see this Red Wolf. Observe it for a while. And then he would plan his capture of it.

As he traversed his way through the forest, taking care to keep his tread soft, he stopped often to listen to the sounds he heard echoing through the forest lest it be the Red Wolf. He gripped his sword in his right hand hard, so hard his hand ached.

Not for the first time he wondered if during the day would have been better, but from the stories he’d heard, no time of day or night was truly safe. The Red Wolf was dangerous no matter what form she took. He had just begun to think that at least during the day he could have a chance to knock the Red Wolf out in her human form, when he heard the growl.

The unmistakable growl of a wolf. Or a dog, but in this case the hunter was certain it was a wolf. The Red Wolf.

He turned slowly, hoping his slow movements would not frighten it. He turned and saw it, and knew it was her. That red coat shone under the moonlight. Its blue eyes narrowed.


The Red Wolf lunged, knocking the hunter onto his back. Instinctively he jutted his sword out and managed to lance her side. Blood spilled from the wound and the hunter realized he didn’t care about the coin as much as he wanted to live. He would kill the Red Wolf instead. He lifted his sword to strike again when jaws clamped down on his arm. The hunter screamed and dropped his sword.

He looked over to the side and found another wolf – a direwolf completely white with two red eyes. It clamped down harder on his arm and the hunter screamed again.

The Red Wolf lunged for him again and this time did not miss.

The scream of the hunter died as the Red Wolf ripped his throat out.


Jon was wrenched out of Ghost as soon as Sansa had been slashed with the sword. He gasped for air and it took him several seconds to get his bearings. He replayed in his mind what he had last seen, and then he was up and running from the bedroom and pounding the stairs down and then out of the castle.

“Sansa!” he shouted as he made for the gates. They were open just a touch, just enough for Ghost and Sansa to slip through. The guards at the gate jolted awake as Jon passed, and he made a mental note to address that on another day.

“Sansa!” he shouted again as he ran to the forest. Gods, he didn’t even know where to start. Please, he thought frantically, please come to me, Sansa.

He opened his mouth to shout again when he saw her coming towards him. She left droplets of blood in the snow as she walked toward him, Ghost right behind her. Jon bolted forward and he heard her whimper. She dropped to the ground and Jon cried out and ran forward to get her when she started to jerk and shake and howl.


He stopped and stared when he realized that it was not her injury that was causing her to act thus, but the fact that she was changing. Her front legs grew and when she stretched, her delicate fingers burst forth. Then her arm appeared, followed by her other hand and her other arm. The same for her legs and the rest of her. It wasn’t so much that she shed the shell of the wolf, but it seemed to seep into her as he human form gave way.

Judging from the way she whimpered and howled in agony, it hurt as much as it appeared to. She collapsed into the snow in a heap on her belly and Jon wasted no time in gathering her up in his arms and running to the castle with Ghost right behind them.


It was perhaps a good thing that Sansa was out cold while the maester tended to her wound. First though, she’d had to be cleaned. A bath was out, so a quick sponge bath had to suffice. She woke once when the first stitch went into her side, and then had promptly went unconscious again.

Jon sat with her, right by her side, and held her hand while the maester tended to her. After she was stitched up, the maester instructed him in how to keep her wound clean and told him not to let her outside no matter what.

He could perhaps keep her inside, but he could not keep her from changing again and that, Jon decided, was what worried him. If changing back to human form was painful, then turning into the wolf had to be painful as well. What would it do to her wound then?

After the maester left, Jon crawled into bed with her and just watched her sleep. He stroked her hair, made sure the furs were keeping her warm, and whispered to her.

“I love you, sweet girl,” he said. “I know this won’t keep you down for long, but I am going to need you to rest.” He pressed up against her back and pressed his lips to her shoulder. “I’ll stay with you,” he promised. “I won’t leave you. I won’t ever leave you, Sansa.”

Ghost made his presence known them by sticking his two front legs on the bed near Sansa’s feet and looked up at Jon. He whimpered and nudged Sansa’s leg with his nose, and Jon smiled. “She’ll be all right, Ghost,” Jon told him. “You did good boy.”

Ghost whimpered again and then went back down on the floor and curled up beside the bed.

“Do you see how you are loved?” Jon murmured. “It’s what you always wanted too. To be loved and cared for. It is my greatest hope that you realize just how much you are.”

Jon buried his face in her hair and soon he drifted off into a restless sleep.

Chapter Text

Sansa slept for most of the day, and during that time Jon went out to the forest with Ghost in the hopes of finding the man that had hurt her. Jon did not doubt that the man was dead. Ghost wouldn't have let him live after he’d hurt Sansa.

It had taken quite a bit of time, but Ghost led him right to the spot. Yes, indeed the man was dead. His throat had been ripped out, and Jon wondered if that had been Ghost or Sansa. One of his arms, he discovered, was a mangled mess. There was blood all around him, staining the snow crimson.

Curious, Jon tracked the footprints he assumed to belong to him and found himself going even deeper into the forest. He came upon a cave, nestled in the sprawling hillside, and ducked inside. When he saw a cage among the few things scattered about, Jon’s blood went cold. This man hadn’t been just been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. He’d been hunting, and Jon was certain that he’d been hunting Sansa.

If Jon had been confronted with tales of the wolf that stalked the grounds beyond the gates, then it stood to reason that others had heard them as well. No doubt some had gotten it in their heads to capture the beast that protected Winterfell so thoroughly.

And now, if they knew that the wolf was Sansa…

Jon cursed himself for his stupidity. He’d wanted the people of Winterfell to see the woman who would rule them. That a Stark, a trueborn Stark, had returned to Winterfell, to the place that belonged to her.

He hadn’t thought of the stories that would be spun. He had put her life in danger. Who knew what this man had meant to do with her. With a cage he had obviously meant to keep her alive, but for how long?

She wasn’t leaving the castle. Ever. Not when she was changed. And she wouldn’t leave the gates either. Not until he could suss out what was going on: was there a bounty on her head? Were there several people that wanted her, or just a select few? Were they mostly hunters? What did they mean to do to her?

Jon quickly made his way back to the castle and up to Sansa’s rooms. She was awake, but still abed. She looked up at him and smiled somewhat painfully. Jon knelt by the bed and hastily took his gloves off. He smoothed her hair at her forehead and then laid his hand against her cheek. She nuzzled into it and he smiled. “Are you in any pain?” he asked.

She nodded and Jon peeled back the furs to inspect her side. She had bled through the bandages. Jon hurriedly prepared to clean the gash and put on fresh bandages. The maester had warned him this might happen, but that after a few dressings it would stop. Jon hoped he was right.

“Does it hurt very much or a little?” he asked her as he redressed her bandages.


“Good,” Jon murmured and then got up and threw the old bandages away.

He came back to her and knelt down again. He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “I saw the man that hurt you. He’s dead.”

She nodded.

“Did you kill him? Or did Ghost?”

She pointed at herself.

“Have you killed men before, Sansa?”

She nodded.

He wanted to know if it bothered her to do so. Or, if at this point it was just animal instinct and par for the course.

“Can you stop the changing?”

She furrowed her brow and looked at him in question. He took that to mean she didn’t know.

“Have you ever tried to stop it?”

She shook her head.

“Tonight I want you to try.”

She pursed her lips together.

“If you change tonight, I will be with you. I want you to fight it, Sansa. You’re hurt, and when I saw you change last night back into your human form, it looked painful. Does it hurt to change?”

She nodded.

“You have to fight, Sansa. You could tear your stitches. Do you understand?”

She nodded again.

“Sweetling, can you tell me where you were headed when the wolf bit you?”

“Marr – marry. To marry.”


“Rrram…say. Bol…ton.”

“Ramsay Bolton?” Jon demanded. “You were going to marry Ramsay Bolton?”

She nodded. “Peet-yr. Bay-lish. Set…it up.”

“That’s the Petyr you were with? Littlefinger?”

She nodded.

Jon’s temper flared. Not at her, but at the whole situation. He knew of Ramsay fucking Bolton. Of what a sadistic fuck he was, and the thought of Sansa being in his clutches made his blood boil. He almost wished Baelish was alive so he could kill him again.

Jon knew all about the man from the stories he’d heard surrounding Ned’s death. How Littlefinger had set Ned’s beheading in motion. It was Littlefinger that was rumored to have had Joffrey poisoned as well. There was talk that Petyr had been the one to abscond with Sansa, but then no one had seen them or heard from them so it was as though Sansa had disappeared just as Arya had.

Now Jon knew. The pieces had fallen into place. Littlefinger had absconded with Sansa and was planning to marry her off to the Boltons in an alliance to no doubt take Winterfell. But then she’d gotten bit and he’d been killed.

The Boltons were no doubt wondering where Sansa was. Perhaps even feeling thwarted that their attempt to gain Winterfell had not come to pass.

They could be the ones hunting the wolf, Jon thought. If they’d heard the stories about it…

“I want you to stay within the walls of Winterfell, Sansa. No going past the gates.”

She looked at him, startled.

“It’s entirely possible that the Boltons know of your…state. If so, they could be after you. That man was hunting, and I’ve a feeling he was hunting you. I need you safe. Do you understand me?”

She nodded, but he could tell she wasn’t happy about this arrangement. He wasn’t happy about it either.

“Your Royal Highness?”

Jon looked up at the servant standing in the doorway. “Yes?”

“A crow just arrived, Your Royal Highness,” the servant said and handed over a sealed piece of paper.

“Finally,” Jon muttered and snatched the letter. The servant scuttled off and Jon tore into the letter from Daenerys.

Sansa must have read something on his face for she touched his hand and when he looked up at her she was looking at him in question.

He sighed. “My aunt? The Queen? She’s on her way to visit.”

Chapter Text

Sansa recoiled back away from Jon at the news that Dany was coming for a visit. Jon furrowed his brow in concern. “What is it, Sansa?”

“She…not…like… me,” she said.

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

She pointed at herself. “Wolf.”

Jon shook his head. “She is the Mother of Dragons, Sansa. She birthed them in the fire. The same fire that brought me back. She knows about the White Walkers. There are things we’ve both seen that cannot be easily explained. She will understand.”

She didn’t look convinced. In fact, she looked rather sad.

“You still want to marry me, don’t you?” he asked.

She averted her gaze and Jon felt a moment’s panic. “Sansa? What is it?”

She sighed and furrowed her brow; she was searching for the words he could tell, and so he waited patiently for her to find them.

“Not…good…for…you,” she finally said.

“Sweetling, why do you say that?”

She looked at him as though he couldn’t believe he would ask that. She pointed at herself again and said, “Wolf!”

“I don’t care about that—”

“Should. Not fit…for Winterfell.”

Jon got up from kneeling beside the bed and grabbed a chair at her desk. He placed it next to the bed and sat down, trying to gather his thoughts. “You are a Stark. The only full blooded Stark that we knew of that is alive and well.”

“Not well. Wolf.”

“And that’s what a Stark is, isn’t it? It’s on our banners, Sansa.”

“Different. You know that.”

Jon regarded her thoughtfully as he sat back in the chair. He saw what was happening now. Her wolf mind was receding and her human mind was coming forward. When he’d asked her before she’d been more wolf than human and she’d consented quickly. The primal part of her saw him as her mate, yet the human side of her, the side of her that was cognizant of courtly life, of the proprieties, and how she did not feel capable of being able to rule anything, even herself, did not see their union as plausible. She did not see herself as capable of ruling.

“I would be by your side the entire time,” he told her. “You are only part wolf, Sansa. Your human mind is coming to the forefront bit by bit every day. It’s possible you will still change, but we will handle it. This is your home, Sansa. Winterfell belongs to you.”

She knit her brows together and lay back against the pillows. “Sleep now, Jon.”

Well, if that wasn’t a dismissal he didn’t know what was. He smirked at her as he stood. “And you’ve just dismissed me like a Queen,” he told her.

She frowned and closed her eyes. Jon almost wanted to laugh. No doubt she thought that by closing her eyes he would take the hint and just go. First though, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Remember that you are mine and I am yours,” he whispered and then left.


Jon attended to his duties, irritated with his aunt for springing this visit on him and Sansa. He knew why she’d done it this way, too. She knew if she was already en route there was less change for him to tell her not to come. He didn’t like that. It felt like a manipulation. And now, with the possibility of being face-to-face with Dany, Sansa was pulling back from him.

As much as he wanted her to be “normal”, he had to admit that he didn’t want her to lose the wolf completely. It spoke, perhaps, to that wildness inside him – the same wildness he gave himself up to when he warged into Ghost.

He liked Sansa primal. He liked her claiming him, and he liked claiming her right back. Granted, he’d only had the opportunity to do that once, but maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to do that again. Just so she knew, so she was well aware, of his intentions.

Besides, he still could have gotten a babe on her, though he doubted it, and he would not leave her to have a baby out of wedlock. If he had to bring that up as a last resort, he would, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want Sansa to feel forced into marrying him, but he also didn’t want her to not marry him because she felt she wasn’t good enough for him and for Winterfell. That was utter shite. Sansa was Winterfell. Now more so than she had been before.

When it came time for them to sup together, Jon made his way up to her bedchamber.
She was sitting at the table already, dressed, and sitting up straight at the table in her room. Her back was to him, and when he paused in the doorway, taking it all in, she tilted her head to the side. Jon grinned and came over to her. He gazed down at her as she gazed back up at him and then he leaned down and brushed a kiss on her forehead.

“How is your side?” he asked as he made his way over to his seat across from hers.

“Better,” she said and placed a napkin on her lap.

He watched her closely, how she struggled to use a fork and knife throughout the entire meal when over the past moon, at some point she would abandon them in the meal. Now she growled when she failed to cut a piece of meat. Without a word, Jon got up and went over to help her. When he reached for her utensils though, she slammed her fist down on the table and growled at him. “No! I do it!”

Her blue eyes had gone indigo.

Jon held up his hand. “All right. I won’t help. Sansa, calm down, love.”

She pointed at him. “You. Leave.”

He gaped at her. “Pardon?”

“Leave. Be alone. Now.”

“Why are you angry with me? What have I done to upset you?”

“Nothing! Just want to be alone!” she shouted. Yet there were tears in her eyes and her face was reddening.

“I want to be here in case you change,” he said calmly, though he had a feeling the more calm he got the angrier and more frustrated she became.

She got up and pushed her chair back, knocking it to the floor. “No. I be alone.”

“But why?” he demanded. “Why can’t I be here?”

“Not want you to see.”

“I saw you change back last night, why can’t I see you now?”

“I do it alone!” she shouted. “Leave! Now!”

He didn’t want to leave her, but he was afraid his presence would only agitate the wolf to come out more. He could see now what he hadn’t seen before: her nails were starting to sharpen and elongate.

“I’ll leave,” he said softly. “Would you like me to send Ghost in?”

“No,” she said a stubborn jut of her chin.

He nodded and left, damning Dany in his head. She was the cause of this. She was the reason Sansa was so distraught. When Dany had been naught but an idea, Sansa had been fine, but now that Dany was on her way, Sansa was afraid. He liked it better when they’d been in their own little bubble even if he did spend much of that time grappling with his guilt over what he was doing with Sansa. Now that her human mind was coming stronger to the forefront, would she resent him? Think he took advantage of her?

To unleash some of his anger, fear, and frustration with Sansa’s stubbornness, Jon went down to the guards at the gate and hollered at them for sleeping on the job the night before. Properly chastised and terrified of him now, they promised to never let it happen again.

Jon then stormed up to the highest turret and looked out on the grounds past Winterfell. Ever since he’d risen from the dead all he’d wanted to do was find some peace. Life before his death had been hard enough. So much death, violence, and loss to contend with. So much fighting…

He’d come back feeling…unsettled. Not quite right to be certain. One should not be able to rise from the dead like that. It was unnatural. He felt unnatural. Perhaps, he thought, that was something he should share with Sansa. Now she understood him better, maybe it would help her feel like less of an oddity.

All he’d wanted afterwards was the familiarity of home. Of comfort. An end to the war. And it had seemed that had happened after Dany had taken the Iron Throne. Now Sansa was returned and yet not the same.

He wondered how Arya would return to him if and when she was found.

The war had changed everyone it seemed. Some more than others.

He heard a howl pierce the night air and he gripped the wood railing beneath his hands. It was not Sansa. He knew her howls. That was Ghost. He waited for her answering howl, but none came.

“If the Gods do exist,” he said aloud, “I pray you help Sansa. And me. Help us both to weather this coming storm.”

And after a moment of silence, he went back inside and hoped Sansa would be able to let him know how she fared.

Chapter Text

It was daybreak when Sansa finally let Jon in the room. She looked so bloody worn out that she all but keeled over into his arms as soon as the door was opened. She felt hot to the touch which was concerning, and he could see some blood had seeped onto her shift, which was the only thing she was clad in.

“Bloody buggering hell, Sansa,” he muttered as he carefully lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

He lifted her shift away from her wound and inspected it. The stitches were intact, but there was blood oozing out. “Fuck,” Jon muttered.

“When did you become so bloody stubborn?” he asked her as he got up and started to prepare the materials he needed to clean her wound. She grunted at him, her eyes drifting shut. “I didn’t sleep all night, just so you know. And when I did fall asleep, it wasn’t for long and it wasn’t very comfortable.” Jon had spent most of the night outside her door, listening and calling out to her, asking her if she was all right every now and again. Once in a while she would answer him. A few times he had heard her crying out as if in pain and he’d begged her to let him inside. She’d ignored him.

He noted now the washbasin on the floor, broken into pieces. Jon ground his teeth together. It was a wonder she hadn’t cut her feet into ribbons. There was also an overturned table and the chair from dinner was either still over and had been turned over again.

There was some droplets of blood on the stone floor that made Jon wonder if it was from her wound or something else. When he drew closer to her and looked down at her hands, he saw it them. She’d lost a few nails again.

“You won’t shut me out again,” he told her as he set down the salve and strips of material he needed to dress her wound on the bed.

Her eyes opened, half-mass, and she peered up at him.

Jon growled and swooped down, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. He felt a bit out of control himself, and he had to end the kiss before he climbed on top of her and claimed her.

Her eyes went dark, and she had that look in her eye she got when she wanted to mate. “You’re hurt,” he told her flatly.

She whimpered and glanced down at her side before looking back up at him. “Change only little.”

“Next time I will be in this room, Sansa. I don’t know what in the Seven got into you yesterday but I do not like it.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “Not a child. Don’t treat like one.”

“Then don’t act like one!” he exclaimed in frustration.

“Try to be better! For you!”

Jon leaned down and ran his hand over her hair at the top of her head. He made sure she was looking him in the eyes when he declared: “Sansa, I love you just as you are. Wolf and all. The wolf is a part of you and I love her too.”

Her eyes welled up in tears. “No good. Not for Winterfell and Prince.”

“Sweetling, you are Winterfell. And you are perfect for this Prince.”

She grumbled incoherently and nestled her face into the pillow.

He sighed. “Rest, sweetling. I’m going to clean your wound.”

She nodded, yawned, and then shut her eyes.


After Jon had cleaned and dressed her wound again, he went to his own bedchamber to bathe and nap. He’d considered going down to Sansa’s bedchamber and sleeping beside her the way they had done now for a full moon’s turn, but decided that he didn’t want to press his luck.

When he awoke a few hours later, he used the chamber pot and then made his way down the hall to check on her. He heard her talking slowly and wondered whom she was talking to. When he got to her door, which was partially open, he found her dressed and sitting at the table, a book in her hand and food half eaten before her. The mess in her room had been cleaned up, and her bed made. Her hair was not loose about her shoulders as she had taken to wearing it lately, but was instead pulled back into a braid that fell over her shoulder. She was sitting stiffly in the chair, her back ramrod straight as she held the book up in front of her.

“The…boy…walked to the market with his mother and thought ab-ab-about stealing –”

“Naughty boy,” Jon said.

Sansa put the book down and looked at him primly. “Good…afternoon, Jon.”

He smiled. “Good afternoon, my heart. How are you feeling?”

“I am…well,” she replied politely. “And you?”

“I am well, thank you for asking.” He gestured to the book now on her lap. “Practicing reading?”

“Speaking,” she said. She thumped the book. “Helps. It helps.” She bit her lip and her brows scrunched together. “I…spent much time…as wolf – the wolf – to survive. Became – I became more animal than human.” She gestured to him. “You know. You have…seen.”

“I love my wolf-girl,” he murmured and pulled the chair at the other end of the table near hers.

She pursed her lips together and Jon clenched his jaw. “You and I have more in common than you realize,” he told her.

She tilted her head to the side in question, and then seemed to remember herself and lifted her chin high and said, “How is…that, my Prince?”

“Don’t call me that,” Jon said a bit harshly. “I’m not your Prince. I’m your Jon. I’m your lover, and up until I told you Dany was coming for a visit, I was your betrothed. Or does that still stand?”

“Please try…to understand.”

Jon scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m trying to, sweetling, but up until just yesterday you wanted me as much as I want you. Then you hear Dany is coming and you’ve shut me out.”

“I do…want you. But I need to…be…better.”

“Better how? At being a lady?”

She nodded. “Not worthy now. Of you. Of Winterfell. Half person. More animal.”

“Do you regret us, Sansa? Do you think I…” He heaved a deep breath. “Do you think I took advantage of you?”

She shook her head. “No. I know…what I did.” She made a pained face. “I force – forced – me—myself – on you.”

“Not every time,” he whispered.

“Do you…are you…upset with me for that?”

“I was at first,” he admitted and wished he hadn’t by the sadness and regret he saw pass over her face. “But then I was upset with myself because I wanted it,” he added quickly. “I wanted it and I didn’t want you to hate me for allowing it when you were more yourself. More human.”

“Not hate you,” she said. “I do not hate you.”

“Do you love me?” he asked softly.

“I…think so.”

That hurt. But it made sense, too. When she’d claimed him she had been mostly wolf and not animal. For her it had been primal. And she had very much been the alpha. As a human though…well, those sorts of things were more complicated weren’t they?

He wondered if how he felt was born out of desperately wanting something he didn’t even know he’d wanted until she’d claimed him. Would he had fallen for anyone in that case? Then again, did it matter? He’d been in love before and he knew enough about it to know that it was what he felt for Sansa. He saw the whole of her over the past moon – the part of her that was wolf, and the part of her that was utterly Sansa - and he loved them both. Completely. Irrevocably.

Now he saw how he had helped tame the animal inside her a bit, and while he was happy that she could communicate with him in a way she hadn’t been able to when he’d first found her, he wanted the unabashed Sansa back. The Sansa that didn’t think twice about mounting him and taking what she wanted.

Now that he was faced with her growing more human, he felt himself growing restless. He wanted to express his desire and his love the way her wolf did. It could be because he feared losing her now – either to her own fears of not being good enough for him, or because it was in the back of his mind that Dany was coming to possibly put an end to his relationship with Sansa. He was afraid that if Dany declared that no, he was not to marry Sansa, that Sansa would accept it and that would be the end of them. What they needed to do when Dany arrived was stand firm together, not apart.

The wolf in her called to something deep inside him, something he hadn’t known existed. Warging into Ghost had given him a taste of that wildness, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more, wanted to be able to share it with Sansa so that perhaps she would feel less alone and he would feel more…complete.


He looked at her, at his beautiful sweet girl, and the words tumbled from his mouth unbidden: “What if you bit me and I changed with you?”

Chapter Text

Sansa didn't answer him in words. Instead, she flung her book at him, and it was only thanks to his reflexes that he managed to catch it before it hit him in the head. But then that wasn't enough and so she picked up her half-eaten mutton and flung that at him too.

"Sansa!" he exclaimed and jumped from his chair. "Stop!"

"Are" she demanded. "Bite you? Be like me? No!"

Jon held up his hands in a kind of surrender. "Sansa, think about it. I would be able to experience what you experience—”

"That why no! to be...half beast half human. To lose...speech and thoughts."

"You hate the wolf."

"I..." She sighed. "No. Wolf saved my life but now...being's not easy. human--humanity...slip away."

He moved closer to her cautiously. "But you like it when you are the wolf, don't you? Does it make you feel freer? No rules, just mate and kill and run--"

She pointed at him. "You don't...want wolf because of me. You want" She studied him, her expression going from confusion to sadness, and then anger. "You love wolf. Not me."

"No!" Jon lunged for her, intent on bringing her into his arms. She growled at him and he held up his hands. "Sansa, no," he said fervently. "I do love you. The wolf is part of you, not separate. I love every part of you and that includes the wolf! If I was a wolf with you then I could be with you when you change. I could run with you. I could be right there by your side.”

Her eyes narrowed. “There’s…more. What you not tell me?”

He looked at her long and hard, and then sighed. “I never told you what happened to me How I died, and was brought back.”

She stared at him as though she didn’t quite understand what he was telling her. “Died?” she asked. “You?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

She shuffled closer to him, a mixture of awe and concern on her face. She reached out tentatively to him as though she hadn’t touched him a thousand times already. As though he hadn’t been inside her. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It made him feel a bit like an oddity and he didn’t like that feeling. He supposed though that she felt the same way, and in this way they were the same.

He reached out and grabbed her fingers, and then brought them to his mouth and kissed her fingertips. She wiggled them free and then touched his face. He nuzzled into her palm and kissed her wrist.

“How die?” she asked softly.

When she started to move her hand away, Jon gripped it in his own. He hated this story. But who wanted to retell the story of their own death?

And how many got the opportunity to speak about it?

People weren’t supposed to come back. Dead was dead. The end. And yet here he was. Living and breathing. Eating and shitting and fucking just as the living did. For the first few months after his resurrection he would sometimes awaken gasping for breath, just as he had when the breath had returned to his body.

“Sit with me,” he said and gestured with his free hand for her to take her seat. She did, and Jon sat in his, still holding onto her hand. He needed that connection, needed to know that in the telling of his death he wouldn’t somehow die again. Sansa was his tether to this world now. Restoring Winterfell had been his purpose before he’d found Sansa in that cave. Now she was his purpose. Making a life with her was his purpose.

He told her the story about the White Walkers and joining forces with the Wildlings. He told her about Olly and how he’d been betrayed. He told her how it had felt each time a sword sliced into him.

Sansa listened with tears falling down her pale cheeks. Jon leaned forward and began to wipe them away with his hands. “Don’t cry, sweetling,” he murmured to her. “I’m here now.”

“How?” she asked.

“Fire. They thought to burn me, and being part Targaryen, I did not burn. Instead, it gave me life.”


“Terrified. I woke up in flames.”


“I was pulled from the fire by Ser Davos and the flames were doused. Not a burn on me.”

“Fire not…harm you…ever?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. I haven’t cared to try.”

She nodded. “Understand.” She reached out and touched his face again, studying him closely. “Happy you…alive.”

“I haven’t been all that happy about it until now. Until I found you in that cave.”

She looked at him in question, her head tilted to the side.

“All I wanted to do was help you when I found you,” he told her. “I could restore Winterfell, give you sovereignty over it – make this place yours as it should be. Perhaps bring back some happiness that has been sorely missing since the bloody damn war began.” He sighed. “I’ve been so tired, Sansa. So tired of loss. Of death. Of the fucking chill in my bones I can’t get rid of.” He took her hand again and kissed her fingers. “You were the one that truly brought me back from the dead. I wasn’t alone anymore. Yes, I have my aunt, but I barely know her. She isn’t home. You’re home. Winterfell is home.”

She nodded sadly and squeezed his fingers.

“Then you claimed me…” he said, looking in her eyes. “Despite how much I tried to stop it from happening again, I didn’t really want to. Being with you has given me purpose. It’s given me life, Sansa. I am so in love with you…”

Her brows furrowed. “Wolf?”

“The wolf is you, Sansa,” he said fervently. “I love every part of you and that includes the wolf.”

“If I…never….turned back… into wolf?”

“I would still love you. That will never change.”

Sansa frowned. “Not…sure.”

“Give me a chance to prove it to you then,” he said. “The truth is, Sansa, as much as I thought you needed me, you really don’t. Barring the threat of the Boltons, you could turn into the wolf and survive well enough on your own. You don’t need me to protect you even though I want to; you can do it all on your own. I’m the one that needs you.”

“As human I do need you,” she said.

“Maybe. Maybe not. You needed me in the beginning, and maybe a bit now, but you’ve already made up your mind to be more human and you’re already making strides. You, my sweet girl, can do anything you set your mind to.” He smiled. “But what do I do if you decide to give that all up and stay the wolf? What if the call to run and hunt becomes too much and I can’t keep you in these castle walls? I can’t stay permanently in Ghost. I want to be with you to protect you. To run with you. To feel what you feel. When I warged into Ghost and followed you out there it was…freeing. I could see why you would choose to stay the wolf for as long as possible. There is freedom in not having any restraints—”

“You want escape,” she said. “Not…comfort…comfort…”

“Comfortable?” he supplied.

She nodded. “Not comfort-able being human. Death changed you. See something?”

“I warged into Ghost but I wasn’t really conscious of it until later. I wasn’t dead for long.”

“Long for…freedom?”

He nodded, his eyes welling up in tears. “Yes.”

“Long for the wild.”

“Yes,” he whispered. “I think it would make me whole.”

“You…don’t know.”

“When I warged into Ghost—”

“Not same.”

“I want to understand, Sansa,” he said, leaning forward and looking at her imploringly. “I want to know what you experience. I want to feel it. I want to be your side when you go through it. I want to share it all with you.”

“Be honest. Not for me. For you.”

“Do you think I’d leave you? Do you think I’d change and decide to never change back?”

“When the wolf, I… very easy to stay and not change back. You…want to…touch something other than what…you are.”

“What’s so wrong about that? Why can’t I want both?”

She looked down and shook her head. “I am sorry. Jon.” He reached out to touch her and she moved her hand away.

“Don’t you dare,” he snapped. “Don’t you dare turn me away again. Don’t you fucking dare deny me.”

Her eyes narrowed and she studied him for a long while before asking, “Challenge me?”

“Yes. I’m not your bloody manservant, Sansa. I’m your lover. You’re mine.”

Her eyes flashed. “No.”

He jumped up with such force his chair rattled to the floor. “Yes.”

She rose slowly and he noticed her eyes going dark. Did she like it when he was assertive?

“I…done with you,” she snarled.

Something snapped inside him. That darkness that lurked just around the edges of him, the darkness he kept at bay. The darkness that scared him. It covered him like a shroud and he heard a growl escape him. He reached out and grabbed her wrists. He hauled her in close and she growled back at him, snapping her teeth at him.

He snapped his teeth back at her and then leaned in and kissed her hard. She nipped his lip and he kissed her harder even as he tasted blood. When he felt her try to move away, he held her tighter.

He lifted her, carried her to the bed and threw her down on it. She snarled at him, baring her teeth, and attempted to crawl away from him. Jon grabbed her ankle and dragged her back. “Don’t. You. Dare,” he growled.

He reached down and, before she could stop him, he grabbed hold of the bodice and ripped it. It fell open exposing her shift and stays, her breasts pushing against them as her breathing grew heavier. He ripped at her shift and then pushed her onto her back and straddled her legs, pinning them to the bed as he undid her stays.

She clawed at the edge of the bed, trying to gain purchase, but Jon was having none of it. He yanked her onto her back and straddled her. She lifted a hand to scratch him and he caught her wrist. He flicked his tongue out and swirled his tongue in a circle at her pulse point.

Her eyes were indigo. She wanted him. She wanted this.

“Is my lady playing with me?” he asked her.

Her other hand flew up towards his face and he caught that one too and pinned both of them to the bed with his hands. He looked directly into her eyes. “You. Are. Mine!”

She growled at him and Jon managed to secure both wrists to the bed with one hand while he undid his breeches with the other. She twisted hands free of his grasp and twisted, managing to get on her belly. She got to her knees and attempted to crawl away, kicking back at him and missing. Jon grabbed her by the waist and hauled her back to him. “I’m going to fuck you like a wolf,” he snarled


“Yes!” he shouted back and managed to push her thighs apart. He slid in between them and shoved her skirts up her back.

Sansa curled her fingers around the edge of the bed and tried to pull herself forward.

Jon shoved his now aching cock inside her.

They both howled.

She stopped fighting and he fucked her hard and fast chanting “Mine!” with every thrust inside her. He pressed himself against her back and reached his hand under her, wanting to make her come before he did.

She howled when he started to rub her nub and when her walls clamped down around him and began to pulse, Jon howled right along with her again and came deep inside her.

With aching and sweating limbs, they both collapsed to the bed in a heap.

Jon rolled off of her, panting, and looked over at her. She was staring up at the ceiling, chest heaving with each breath. Her hair was mussed, and her cheeks were pink. With her torn dress and skirts in disarray she looked positively debauched.

“Sansa,” he said.

She looked at him.

He shifted closer to her and placed a hand against the side of her face. “Did I hurt you?” He was savage; he’d known it. Yet her struggles…they’d been half-hearted. He’d felt how she was strong in a way that was unnatural, and she had not used that strength to get away even though she could have.

She shook her head. “I hurt you?”

“No,” he said softly. “Why?”

Her smile was small. “Wild-ness in you already. I help you see it. Feel it.”

He kissed her voraciously and then made quick work of ridding them both of their clothing. He tossed her shredded garments to the floor and then did something he’d wanted to do for a while now. He settled between Sansa’s spread legs and pulled one leg over his shoulder.

She attempted to push him away by pressing a hand to the top of his head. “No,” he growled. “I want to taste you. I want to feast.”

“Not – proper!”

He grinned and licked up her slit. He tasted her and him together. He loved it. She whimpered when he licked at her again and again. “I know it’s not,” he murmured. “But there is nothing proper about us, Sansa, and I want to keep it that way.” And then he ducked his head and made a meal out of her.

Chapter Text

Jon and Sansa were curled up in the middle of their bed, which was really his bed, but he refused to call it that. It was theirs. He had his arms wrapped around her, and his face was nestled down near her breasts. The fire snapped and crackled in the fireplace, and Jon knew at some point he would have to tend to it.

Maybe, though. Maybe not. He found he ran rather hot since he’d been resurrected from the fire. Sansa too, he found, ran hot. He knew that had not always been the case, for when they were kids she often complained of the cold. There were nights now when she kicked the covers off even when the fire had gone out in their room.

Dany had explained to him that his heat came from his Targaryen dragon blood. Jon hadn’t really cared at the time; he’d had a hard time accepting his Targaryen side. He chalked it up to the fact that he had been raised in the North and felt more kinship to his Stark blood than his Targaryen blood. However, since the night Sansa had set that wilder, somewhat darker aspect of himself free, he had begun to wonder more about his Targaryen side. Sansa had sensed it, which was why she’d pushed him to unleash it. She had sensed something about him with her animal instincts that he hadn’t.

He was curious to explore it a bit more, but for now, he was content to explore it with Sansa only. In fact, since that night, Sansa had allowed him to become more dominant in their bedchamber. Jon reveled in it. He let the full extent of the possessiveness he felt for Sansa out. It was not something he’d felt before his resurrection with his previous lovers so this was new. It was most definitely primal in nature. He had even taken to roaring when Sansa howled. It was something that just erupted out of him, and it felt so fucking good to unleash.

He felt a new confidence in himself begin to emerge with the acceptance and acknowledgment of this thing inside him. Had it just been lying dormant until he’d begun to embrace it? Had Sansa somehow known what to do to release it?

Whatever the case was, and Jon was sure he would eventually learn, right now he didn’t want to think about anything else but the woman in his arms. He hummed contentedly at the feel of Sansa running her hand through his hair. He moved his head slightly and sucked at her breast. Her hand stopped and she moaned softly, her legs moving against his where they were entwined.

Jon smiled and pushed her onto her back to tend to her other breast. She looked up at him, desire evident in her gaze.

“Do you like that, sweet girl?” he asked.

She nodded, and Jon bent his head and took the other breast in his mouth.

No matter how many times he had her, he always wanted more. His stamina, he’d found, had increased. He felt energized in everything – in sparring and in making love to Sansa. He also found his appetite had increased, and that lately he’d developed a craving for raw meat.

That disturbed him, and so he tried his best to ignore it.

And when it came to Sansa, he found he craved her endlessly. When he wasn’t near her, something raged inside him until she was by his side again. She calmed him.

Who he was when he was with Ygritte no longer existed. That Jon had been a boy. Naïve. A bit idealistic still. Now, after all, that he’d been through and experienced, after dying and coming back…well, he didn’t feel the same at all. The Jon he was now couldn’t imagine being in love with anyone but Sansa. His she-wolf. His proper little she-wolf.

The thought made him laugh a little.

She pushed at his shoulder. “Why laugh at me?” she demanded.

He looked up at her from where he’d been leaving kisses on her belly. What a view – her tits on display for him, her blue eyes almost glowing in the low light of the room, and her red hair splayed across the pillow. Gods, he loved her. Loved her with a fierceness that almost scared him, and would certainly scare her if she knew the depth and breadth of it.

“I think I have a nickname for you,” he told her.

She tilted her head to the side in question.

“She-Wolf,” he told her. “You’re my She-Wolf. Do you like it?”

Her smile was a bit sad. He wished she would embrace her wolf side the way she’d encouraged him to embrace his…dragon side?

“Dragon,” she said. “I call you Dragon.”

Your Dragon.”

She smiled, but didn’t repeat it.

This was the other thing that Jon felt drove him so much to claim her again and again. She was still hesitant to embrace them fully. He knew she was still concerned over what Dany would do to them when she arrived. Jon was not so fearful about Dany keeping them apart. Not any longer. He knew nothing, not even a Queen’s demand, would keep him from Sansa.

Sansa was his. And even if she would no longer claim him, verbally at least, he was hers.

Sansa reached out and ran the tips of her fingers along the side of his face and he nuzzled into her hand. She smiled and he bent his head and bit at her hip.

She emitted a half-growl half moan and he smiled against her skin as he made his way further down, dropping kisses as he went. When he got to the core of her, he lay flat on his stomach and maneuvered her legs over his shoulders. She didn’t protest anymore, not after that first time when he taught her the joy to be found with his mouth on her. He licked, nibbled, and teased her with his lips, teeth, and tongue until she howled.

Then he moved to his knees, spreading her legs to allow him access to her cunt with his cock. He felt partly feral now with the need to be inside her and he looked down at her in determination and dominance.

He teased her with his cock against her folds. “You want me inside you, Sansa?”

She lifted one leg and used it to urge him forward, a silent plea for what she wanted.

“Tell me,” he ordered. “Tell me you want your Dragon inside you.”

“I want Dragon inside me.”

Your Dragon. Say it.”


She was playing with him, he could tell. There was a glint in her eye. He reached out and began to stroke her. She moaned and arched her back, and then he slid his middle finger inside her and fucked her with it while using his other hand to continue to tease her nub.

Just when he knew she was about to peak, he took his hands away. She looked at him in outrage as he licked his fingers. “You taste delicious,” he told her on a moan. He was so hard he was light-headed.

“Inside me, Dragon,” she demanded.

“Your Dragon. I’m your Dragon, Sansa.”

She was up so fast, Jon didn’t have time to respond. She pushed him onto his back and he let out a grunt. She mounted him and took him inside her so quickly his head spun. She peaked, howling as she did, and he gripped her hips when she started to slow. “Don’t stop,” he growled. “Keep riding me, Sansa, please!”

She was having none of that. Instead, she lifted off of him and scrambled off the bed. Jon lay there in shock, his cock aching and wet. With a growl, he got up and went after her, catching her at the door. He pushed her against it, careful not to hurt her as he pressed her front against the wood. He gripped his cock just as she shifted her legs apart just enough for him to drive himself home inside her. She howled again, and Jon buried his face in the back of her neck as he fucked her hard and fast.

Then he pulled out and she whimpered. He spun her around, lifted her, and then carried her to the bed. He placed her down and she scooted back. He crawled over her, settled between her thighs, and slid back inside her slick heat. He groaned and this time, he fucked her slowly.

“That’s my sweet girl,” he murmured. “My She-Wolf. Do you like being my she-wolf, Sansa?”

She nodded, her back arching off the bed as she moaned, reaching for her next peak.

“And I’m your Dragon, am I not?” he rasped as he moved over her.

She nodded.

“Say it.”

“My Dragon.”

He rewarded her by increasing the pace of his thrusts.

“Jon!” she cried out.

“Yes,” he gasped. “That’s my She-Wolf, my sweet, beautiful girl. I want you to howl for me again. I want you to wake everyone in Winterfell. I want them to know that I’m yours and you’re mine.” He fucked her harder. Faster. “Howl for me!”

She did, long and keening, as she came on his cock.

Jon followed shortly thereafter, coming inside her so hard he thought he might pass out. He roared as he flooded her with his seed. Then he collapsed against her. “My sweet Sansa,’ he murmured as he nuzzled the side of her face. “I love you, my She-Wolf. I love you…”

Sansa pushed him off of her and then cuddled into his side. He’d worn her out. She snuggled into him the way she did when she was ready for sleep. Jon held her close, kissed her once, twice, and then she’d had enough and tucked her head under his chin.

This was exactly how they ended up falling asleep most nights: sweaty from sex, sated (somewhat) , and tired. It never occurred to them to separate, to find coolness by parting their bodies. Instead, Jon’s arms tightened around her, not allowing any space between them. He kissed her forehead and then followed her into slumber.

And then, in the morning, they were awakened by a roar that shook the castle, and the blast of a horn. Jon’s eyes popped open and he looked down at a growling Sansa.

Dany had arrived.

Chapter Text

Jon wouldn’t say he had grown used to Dany’s dragons in the time he had spent with her, but their mighty roars and the look of them didn’t startle him the way they had when he’d first met them. So, from Sansa’s perspective, he could understand why her wolf was showing dominance. She most likely felt Winterfell and its people, including him and herself, were being threatened. And really, what else was one supposed to feel when hearing a dragon roar? Any sane person or beast would feel that way.

Sansa pushed off him and off the bed, her limbs shaking and jerking in a way that troubled him. Jon sat up and grabbed his clothes off the floor, keeping his gaze trained on her. He hastily dressed while Sansa looked out the window, up to the sky, no doubt watching Dany’s dragon circle the castle.

“They won’t burn Winterfell to the ground,” Jon told her as he sat down to pull on his boots. “I promise, Sansa, they won’t hurt us.”

No sooner had he said that then one of them let out another roar that startled her and made her growl and snap her teeth. She turned and looked at him, her breath coming out in pants.

Jon’s eyes widened. He knew exactly what this meant, and before he could stop her, she bolted out the door, naked as her nameday, and ran down the hall.

Jon ran after her, one boot on, the other in his hand. “Sansa!”

But she was too fast for him. In the time it took for him to shove the other boot on, he heard two howls pierce the air. One was Ghost. And one was Sansa. This was not her human howl either.

She’d changed.

Fury bubbled up within Jon, and it was not directed towards Sansa, but Dany. Couldn’t she have left her bloody dragons in King’s Landing? Or at least found some way to contain them? Jon had no doubt that the people of Winterfell were terrified. Who wouldn’t be? Even if they had seen them before, it had been a very long time since they had, and besides – they were dragons. Anyone in their right mind would worry about their unpredictable nature.

Jon stormed out of the Keep and glared at Drogon as he flew above them. He then looked toward the gates, and there was Ghost and Sansa, growling at the men who held it closed. They looked toward Jon, stark terror clear on their faces. They were under orders to keep the gates closed so that Sansa could not escape, and yet having the beasts above and the ones in front of them was something they had not been prepared for. Jon had threatened them with their lives if they let Sansa escape, so it was no wonder they looked about ready to shit themselves.

Meanwhile, it was a bit chaotic inside with people rushing for shelter and shouting above the din of dragons roaring and screeching and children crying.

“STOOOOP!” Jon roared.

Silence fell. Even the dragons above quieted. Ghost and Sansa looked towards him and sat, the both of them cocking their heads to the side.

“Sansa, Ghost, to me,” Jon said, and pointed to his feet. Gods, he hated having to beckon Sansa as if she was a dog.

They ambled over, panting, and Jon got down on his knees and reached for Sansa. She nuzzled right into his palm and Jon bent his head, allowing her to nuzzle at his face too. “I will keep up safe, sweet girl. Trust me. We’re safe; it’s just Dany and her bloody dragons. Remember I told you about them?”

She emitted a whine and Ghost joined in. Jon looked at Ghost and frowned. “I know you hate them,” Jon said. “I’m not quite that fond of them myself.” He looked at Sansa. “Stay by my side, Sansa. Don’t run out the gate. Stay here, both of you.”

He looked toward the men at the gates. “Open them.” They nodded, and the creaking gates were pulled open.

Sansa and Ghost took their posts on either side of him, each growling softly. It took a few minutes, but Dany and her entourage came in sight, she was flanked by Tyrion and Daario on horseback. She looked every inch the Queen – sitting tall and straight with an unforgiving look on her face. The men, women, and children that surrounded them all bowed their heads or dropped to their knees as she passed through.

When she saw Jon, she smiled, somehow missing the fury he knew had to be radiating off of him. He wanted to shout at her for causing such a ruckus. For terrifying everyone, especially Sansa. This was not how Sansa had wanted to greet the Queen. She would be mortified when she came back to herself.

“Nephew,” Dany said. “I trust you are well.”

Jon clenched his jaw and nodded once, curtly.

Daario climbed off his horse first and then helped Dany down.

Tyrion climbed down and made his way over to Jon with a smile. He bowed. “Hello, my Prince.”

Jon inclined his head, but said nothing. He was afraid he would start screaming at them and never stop if he spoke.

“Is my wife about?” Tyrion asked. Though it sounded as though he was teasing, and despite the fact that he genuinely liked Tyrion, Jon didn’t appreciate the joke. Nor the reminder that Sansa was, for all intents and purposes, Tyrion’s wife. Even if Sansa had disappeared, thereby giving no cause for Dany to even pardon the marriage. They’d all thought her dead. He better not think he could stake any claim on her now. She was Jon’s and she was going to stay Jon’s.

“She is,” Jon grunted.

Tyrion looked a bit startled. Normally, Jon was even-keeled. Not this time.

“Where?” Tyrion asked, looking about him.

Jon gestured to Sansa at his side. “Here.”

Tyrion looked down to where Jon was gesturing and stared at her. “Surely, you can’t mean…”

“I do,” Jon grated out.

Tyrion took a step toward Sansa cautiously and Jon, Sansa, and Ghost growled a warning.

Dany’s eyes went wide as she studied her nephew. “What is the meaning of this? Why are you growling?”

“Keep away from Sansa and we will remain friends,” Jon snarled at Tyrion.

“Your eyes,” Daario said, pointing at him. “Did you see his eyes? They just glowed red.”

Jon snapped his attention to Daario. “Pardon?”

Daario let out a low whistle. “Yes, I saw it, Your Grace. Your eyes, they flashed red when you told Dany to keep Tyrion away from the wolf.”

“The wolf has a name,” Jon snapped.

“They just did it again!” Daario exclaimed. He looked at Dany, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Did you see that?”

Dany’s jaw was clenched tight. “I did,” she said slowly. “I believe it’s time we head inside the castle.” She nodded to Jon. “Lead the way, nephew.”

Jon nodded and with Ghost and Sansa by his side, led the way inside the castle.

He led them to a private meeting room, and once they’d all entered, Jon attempted to excuse himself so that he could take Sansa back to their bedchamber and give her a chance to change back.

Dany, however, was having none of that. “I’m not sure what to think here,” she said. “You write to tell me that Sansa has been found, that she is a wolf, and that you wish to wed her. I thought you’d gone mad. I still think you might be. Now you have a new wolf at your side and you say it’s Sansa. You growl at Tyrion and your eyes glow red – I don’t know what to think!”

“I don’t know anything about my eyes glowing red,” Jon said. “I don’t care about that right now, quite honestly. What I do care about is the fact that you came here horns blaring and dragons flying free! You scared her into changing! This was not how she wanted to meet you and now you are sounding as though you’re the one that’s been wronged!”

“I think you had best remember who you are talking to,” Dany hissed. “I might be family, but I am still your Queen—”

“I don’t care who you are,” Jon snapped.

“Now, now, now,” Tyrion said and stepped in between Dany and Jon, his hands up. “Let’s calm down before we say things that result with our heads on a pike.”

Sansa growled.

Tyrion nodded to her. “Yes, I’ve had quite enough as well.”

“Jon, why don’t you tell us what it is the wolf – er, Sansa, needs right now?” Tyrion asked.

“To be with me, alone. She needs to feel safe or she won’t change back,” Jon replied.

“And if I require proof that this is in fact Sansa Stark?” Dany asked.

“We live in a world in which giants and dragons exist, in which the dead have returned, and you need proof that Sansa is a wolf?” Jon demanded.


“Uhhh…” Daario said and pointed at Sansa who had retreated to the corner of the room.

Their heads swiveled to Sansa whose body shook and trembled. Jon rushed over to her, knowing exactly what was happening. “Get me a cloak!”

One was offered to him and Jon didn’t even bother to acknowledge the one who had handed it to him. He grabbed it and was ready to fling it over Sansa as soon as she had finished changing. He watched her, pained, as she transformed. He wished he could find some way to make this easy for her; he hated how painful it looked as her limbs stretched and molded, and her bones creaked and cracked back into her human form.

Finally, she lay limp on the floor, naked and trembling, not to mention exhausted.

“Oh my,” Dany whispered.

“By the seven,” Tyrion murmured.

“Gods,” Daario breathed.

Jon threw the cloak over her and glared at them. “Look away from her. She doesn’t need your prying eyes.” He got to his feet and easily scooped Sansa up into his arms. “If you’ll excuse us now, Your Highness,” he said angrily and stormed from the meeting room to tend to Sansa.

Chapter Text

Sansa shivered and shook in Jon's arms as he carried her up to their bedchamber. He placed her down on the bed and threw furs over her to stave off the chill, but he suspected that was not the problem.

She opened her eyes and looked at him as he smoothed some hair away from her face. "Trying...not to...change again,” she said. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"What triggered the change? The dragons?"

She opened her eyes and nodded. "Threat."

"They are rather terrifying creatures, but they belong to Dany and they won't burn Winterfell down. You are not under attack, Sansa."

She looked at him, clearly agitated. "! Flying over Winterfell! Beast in me...sensed harm. I could not help it!"

Jon leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Ssshhh...sweetling, I know, I know. I don't fault you for it. I understand. Just know that you are safe now."

She heaved a heavy sigh and rolled onto her side, burrowing under the furs. Jon yanked off his boots and climbed in with her, bringing her into his arms and kissing the top of her head. "What can I do? Tell me."

"Nothing," she said softly. "Need to...calm...down."

Jon ran a hand up and down her back in what he hoped was soothing. "Is this helping? Me holding you?"

"Yes, Dragon."

He heard a note of teasing in her voice and he grinned. Moving his hand off her back, he used the tip of his finger to tip her chin up to his so he could kiss her. Her trembling lessened and, encouraged, Jon pressed her back into the bed and kissed her deeper, and with more passion. "My sweet girl," he murmured as he trailed kisses from her mouth, down her sleek neck and then along her collarbone.

She moaned and Jon pressed himself against her, needing some friction for his cock that was already hardening, and figured she might need some too. Her trembling had stopped altogether now. He continued his path of kisses to her breasts and flicked his tongue against her nipple. She growled and he grinned and did it again. "That's it, She-Wolf," he encouraged. He lifted his head and kissed her again, deeply.

"Dragon try to seduce me?"

He laughed deep in his throat, and then bent his head to skim teeth along her throat. "What can I say? Dragon always wants his She-Wolf," he said throatily against her neck.

She stayed him from journeying any further south on her body with one hand pushed against his shoulder. "Meet Queen," she said.

Jon sighed and nodded, rolling off of her. Well, at least he'd helped keep her from changing.

He lay there as Sansa got up and moved across the bedchamber. She looked over her shoulder at him. "Call maid for me, please?"

"I could be your lady's maid," he said with a mischievous grin as he lifted himself up on his elbows and watched her wash her hands and feet in the basin of water on her bureau.

"No," she said curtly. "Distract me."

She was already changing into her Queenly persona. Her clipped tone, her back straight, the look of determination on her face complete with the set of her jaw. It fascinated him the transitions she could make.

Now, with his cock deflated, Jon got up, tugged his boots back on, and reluctantly went to the door to call for Sansa's maid. He sure missed the days when it was him and him alone who dressed her. In fact, he was already longing for the days when it was just them and no one else. He shouldn't have written Dany at all. He should have just let him and Sansa be until it was an absolute necessity to let people know she was alive. He could have wed her in the Godswood and been done with it, begging later for forgiveness instead of asking for permission.

Yet he knew that was his selfishness talking. He knew that was not reality. He was just not up for this meeting. Dany was as soft as she was hard, and her behavior upon arriving already told Jon that this was not going to be a visit that went well. She’d already made her judgments before she’d even gotten here, yet having actually seen Sansa change might have helped. At least she no longer thought he’d gone mad or was making it all up. He wished he could predict what Dany would do or say, but he couldn’t. Either she deemed Sansa fit for him or she didn’t. It made no difference to Jon though for, as far as he was concerned, he was going to marry Sansa regardless of what Dany wanted.

When her maid appeared, Jon told her he was going to check on Dany and then return to take her down to the Queen.

“Don’t leave without me,” he told her.

“Yes, Dragon,” she said as she tied the laces of her small clothes.

Jon wondered if she was aware of what calling him Dragon did to him. Was she teasing him? he pondered as he stopped short on his way to the door. Was this her way of making sure the fire in him stayed stoked for her?

He turned abruptly, marched over to her, and with one hand at the back of her head, he kissed her hard. Her maid let out a squeak, but Jon paid her no mind. “Teasing she-wolf,” he muttered and then, with one last quick kiss, departed.


Sansa wished for the thousandth time that she was completely herself. Her thoughts were there, but her mouth tripped over the words. It was as though they were twisted into something when she tried to speak. She was getting better, but she was nowhere near as ready as she wanted to be when meeting the Dragon Queen.

She wanted to be able to prove herself as a Stark fit to rule beside Jon in Winterfell. Yet she knew that right now, she wasn’t. She could hardly see to the people of Winterfell like this. She didn’t even have full control over her changing yet.

She wasn’t a whole person, but rather half human and half beast. She didn’t feel in her right mind at times, fluctuating between animal instincts and her human side. The beast in her had claimed Jon. The human side of her still reeled from that, though it was not something she felt she could tell Jon. He had proved himself devoted to her, ready to jump into a union without any care for how it might look to have her as his bride.

It made her think of Robb and what he’d done because of his sense of honor and how he’d fallen in love with Jeyne. He’d gotten himself killed for it, and though Sansa didn’t think Jon would end up killed, he could certainly end up punished if he went against his aunt’s decree.

Despite the fact that Jon thought himself cynical now after all that had happened to him, he wasn’t. Not truly. He was still an idealist. Still thought that everything would just work out.

Sansa knew better. She had thought like him once, but not anymore. Too much had happened to her to allow her to think otherwise. If her time in King’s Landing hadn’t literally beaten that idealistic girl out of her, then what she was now was proof that life was not a song. It was hard. It was unpredictable. All the best laid plans could easily, in an instant, go awry.

Now as she fought to get back to herself she feared what would become of her. In this half-state she was, basically, useless. The people of Winterfell were afraid of her. Outside the castle, there were hunters hunting for her. Where did she belong? What could she do? If she could speak better, and control her changing, there was a lot she could do.

She feared being separated from Jon and from Winterfell. And she feared what Jon would do if that was the Queen’s decree.


“I fail to understand why you are upset with me,” Dany said after Jon met her, Tyrion, and Daario in the private meeting room and informed them that Sansa was preparing herself.

“You came unannounced,” Jon told her heatedly, his earlier irritation rising up within him.

“You asked me to come!”

“I asked for your advice. I did not ask you to come.”

Dany arched a brow. “Did you think I would just pen a letter after you told me Sansa Stark had returned to Winterfell and had returned as a wolf?”

“You set out to visit without informing us until you were halfway here!” Jon shouted at her. “You gave Sansa no time to prepare!”

“His eyes did it again,” Daario murmured.

Dany looked at her lover sharply and he shrugged and cleared his throat.

“What has happened to you?” Dany demanded. “You’ve never been so…defiant.”

“Nor has his eyes glowed red,” Tyrion quipped.

“What is the meaning of this?” Dany asked.

Jon sighed heavily. “I don’t know about my eyes glowing red. There have been some…changes within me.”

“Such as?”

Jon glanced at Daario and Tyrion and then looked pointedly at Dany.

“It seems the Prince would like for us to leave,” Tyrion said.

“Now is not the time to discuss this,” Jon said. “Sansa is getting ready. She has been worried about this meeting and I am not going to make her wait.”

“Is it hard, Your Grace?” Tyrion asked. “Taking care of her?”

Jon shook his head, unwilling to let them know that at times, especially in the beginning, it could be. “No.”

“I think you lie,” Dany said slowly, her eyes narrowing.

“I don’t care what you think,” Jon snarled at her. Jon started, noticing how the sound of his own voice, even to himself, had changed to a deep, inhuman demon-like growl. Heat had also sparked through him, feeling like fire in his veins.

“Well, today is a day of many surprises, isn’t it?” Tyrion said after they’d all looked at him in complete and utter shock.

Chapter Text

When Jon returned to escort Sansa down to the Queen, she noticed right away that something was not right. Not only that, but she could smell something in the air. Something like fire. And it was wafting off of him.

"What is wrong?" she asked, gripping his hands and peering at him. "What...happened? Smell"

He looked at her in surprise. “You can smell it?”

She nodded. “What happened?”

He heaved a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "There is a dragon in's coming out. Daario and Tyrion said my eyes turned red twice—"

"Like Ghost?"

"Like Ghost, yes, but I don't think it's like Ghost exactly. I just...growled at Dany. It sounded inhuman. Like a beast or a demon was inside me. And I felt a spark of heat through my veins."

Sansa's eyes went wide. "Fire."

"Yes," he said hoarsely.

Sansa embraced him, wanting to ease the tension she could feel coming off of him in waves. He clung to her, clutching at the back of her dress in his fists.

"No more call you dragon," Sansa said lightly, hoping to make him smile or at least laugh a little. He did, but it was laced with a spot of fear. She pulled back to look at him. "I...thought you...liked dragon side?"

"I do, I do, I just...I don't know how much of me is actually going to change into a dragon. Am I going to look like one Dany's beasts? Am I going to ignite myself on fire? What is going to happen to me exactly?"

Sansa framed his face with her hands, making him focus solely on her. "We will figure it out. You safe. I...will help."

He groaned and captured her mouth with his, kissing her desperately. He needed comfort. Sansa could feel it. And since she felt partly responsible for drawing the dragon inside him out, she would give him all the comfort he needed.

"I love you," he moaned as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. "You understand. Only you would."

Yes, that was probably true. She only hoped that he didn't suffer through a harrowing transformation as she did. She didn't wish that kind of pain on anyone. Well. Maybe to some...

Jon lifted his head and gripped her hands in his. “Listen to me. I do not want you to let my aunt intimidate you, all right? Remember who you are. Remember that you are Ned and Catelyn Stark’s daughter. Robb Stark’s sister. You are a Lady and of the North. Remember that the North will support you no matter what.”

Sansa frowned and shook her head sadly. “Not…exactly. Support wolf?”

“Yes,” Jon said emphatically.

“She already not like me?” Sansa asked, cocking her head to the side.

He sighed. “I don’t know what has gotten into her really. She is in rare form today.”

“Told you she…would not be happy with me. What happened to…thoughtful Jon?” She nodded towards him. “Impulsive.”

“I died, Sansa, remember?”

She winced at the reminder. “I know.”

“I don’t want to waste what time I have left with regrets or pondering too much if I should do something or not. If I want something, I want to reach out and grab it with both hands.”

She smirked as she looked pointedly at their entwined hands, and he laughed. “See?”

“But also,” she began slowly, “Must respect Queen and her wishes.”

“Not when she’s being unreasonable,” Jon retorted.

Sansa shook her head at him, her lips curved in a small smile. “What am I to do…with you?”

He leaned in and brushed her lips with his. “Just love me, Sansa. That’s all I want.”

She kissed him in lieu of answering and hoped that was enough. He did look a bit crushed as he led her to the Throne Room, and Sansa did feel terrible about that. It was just that she feared committing herself to him completely. She knew how things could turn so quickly, and she feared that in the state she was in the Queen would deem her unfit to rule beside Jon. The Queen was thinking like a Queen, thinking like a ruler who had to do what was best for the realm. Jon was thinking with his heart. Perhaps a bit with his cock, too.

So she kept her feelings close to her chest for if she didn’t say aloud what she felt, then at least some part of her heart may remain intact if the Queen refused Jon’s request to marry her.

When they reached the Throne Room, Jon kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, “Remember who you are.”

She nodded and heaved in a slow breath for courage.

“I’ll be right out here,” he told her and pointed to the floor. “You need me, you call me.”

She nodded again, and then smiled at him encouragingly before making her way inside the room.

The Dragon Queen sat upon the throne, Tyrion at her side. He bowed his head toward her in greeting and Sansa did the same before going to her knees before the Queen. She was as beautiful as she’d heard, Sansa thought. Those violet eyes and that white-blond hair. Not to mention her slender figure. She remembered Jon mentioning the Queen had wanted to procure an alliance between them after his parentage had been revealed to bring the North and the South together, but Jon had declined. He’d only wanted Winterfell and peace.

He’d gotten Winterfell, but Sansa couldn’t say he had peace now.

“Rise,” the Queen said.

Sansa rose and bowed her head. “My Queen. Welcome…to the N—no-north.”

“Lift your head and look at me.”

Sansa followed the Queen’s orders, lifting her chin just a bit. Remember who you are.

The Queen studied her, a frown marring her beautiful face. “Tell me what happened to you.”

Sansa knew what she meant, and so she told the Queen the story of how she was changed. How she’d lived in the forest and protected Winterfell, and had not been allowed in as the people inside were afraid of her. Plus, they didn’t know she was Sansa Stark of Winterfell. To them, she had just been a wolf.

“Your speech is broken,” the Queen said matter-of-factly. “It does not flow.”

Sansa forced herself not to flinch. While it was true, it still hurt to hear. She nodded in agreement instead.

“How can you see your people if you can barely speak to them?” the Queen asked.

Sansa pursed her lips together.

“Jon can easily speak for her, Your Highness,” Tyrion said smoothly.

Sansa wanted to thank him for that, but she wisely kept her mouth shut.

“Have your people seen you at all?” the Queen asked, ignoring Tyrion.

“I knew I…was not fit to see…them,” Sansa said. “I have stayed away. Not want – I do not want to make them afraid.”

“You cannot expect to go from not seeing them at all, to suddenly becoming their Princess. They must see you, Lady Sansa.”

Sansa nodded. “Yes, Your…Highness.”

“Then we’ll start there,” the Queen said. “Tomorrow you will greet the people of Winterfell with me at your side.”

“And Jon?” Sansa blurted out hopefully.

The Queen pursed her lips together. “Of course.”

Sansa bowed. “Thank you…Your Highness.”

“You may leave now.”

Sansa forced herself to walk, not run, to the doors. When she opened them, Jon was there, just as he said he would be. He rushed over to her, closing the door behind her, and then took her face in his hands. “What did she say? How did it go?”

Sansa looked up and down the hall worriedly. Jon took the hint and all but dragged her down the hall and into a private little nook. “Well?” he prompted.

“She…wants me to see the people with her…tomorrow. And you.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” he said. “It’s what I’ve wanted you to do for weeks now.”

“I think test. She tests me. Does not think I can…speak to people of Winterfell….does not think I can help rule because I…have trouble with speech.”

Jon’s face became a veritable thundercloud. His eyes flashed red, startling Sansa, and he charged forward to the Throne Room. Sansa gripped his wrist to stop him and he turned his head and snarled at her. She smelt it again, the fire. And she felt the hotness of his skin under her hand. The wolf came forward and snarled back at him. “Stay, Dragon. No argue with Queen,” she commanded.

He growled again, and it sounded deeper. Inhuman. Sansa didn’t back down though. She gripped his wrist tightly and stared him down, and after a while, she felt him relax.

“She is being unreasonable,” he argued.

“She’s being a Queen thinking of her people,” Sansa said softly. “You must think that way too.”

“Bugger that,” he muttered.

“Jon. Dragon. Please?”

He heaved a sigh and pulled her into him and kissed her temple. “I will play her game for now,” he murmured. “For you.”

“Thank you.”

He looked down at her with a smirk. “Considering what a good boy I’m being don’t I deserve a reward?”

“What reward… would the Prince like?” she asked teasingly. “Perhaps a…new sword? A feast in your honor?”

“Oh, I want a feast all right,” he rumbled as he lifted her up off her feet and tossed her over his shoulder. “But only if I can have it between your legs!”

Sansa held back the squeal of laughter that threatened to erupt out of her as Jon carried her down the hall to his bedchamber. This was unseemly behavior. The Queen would be furious. However, because Sansa rather wanted to thumb her nose at the Queen at the moment, she allowed it.

Chapter Text

“How do you do?”

“Again,” Jon said and licked Sansa’s right nipple.

She squirmed under him and repeated, “How do you do?”

Jon now sucked on said nipple, eliciting a groan from Sansa. She tangled her fingers in his hair and he smiled against her plump breast. He lifted his head. “Now say ‘I will take that into consideration’.”

While he waited for her to repeat after him, he left light little kisses around the nipple of her left breast. She jutted her chest out and he looked up at her warningly.

“I will…take that into…consideration.”

He shook his head. “Try again.”

She growled in frustration. She wanted his mouth on her, but he wouldn’t give in until she was able to repeat his phrases without any pauses. It was a game he’d thought up to incorporate lessons with lovemaking. Having dealt with their people often enough, Jon had found himself repeating certain phrases over and over again. So, he taught them to Sansa. For every phrase she would speak tomorrow when seeing her people was said without pause, he put his mouth on her, or touched her in a way he knew drove her wild. He wondered how long it would take for the wolf in her to come out and demand he stop teasing her.

Until then, he had her in his bed and in his arms. Naked. It was all he required really. If Dany wanted to see him, she could go hang for all he cared. All he wanted and all he cared about was right there in the bed with him.

Now, his little she-wolf got that wrinkle between her brows when she was concentrating really hard. “I will take that into consideration,” she said and smiled at him triumphantly.

He licked at her nipple as a reward. “Again.”

“I will take that into consideration,” she repeated and he sucked her breast into his mouth. He wasn’t sure who was really being rewarded here since he was enjoying this as much as she was. Though…no, he was probably enjoying it more even if he was aching to slide his cock in her cunt already.

However, whatever it took to make Sansa happy, he would do it. And since she wanted to win Dany over, this was their compromise. He would get her into bed, and she would practice with him there. It really was a winning solution all around.

Now, Jon pressed kisses down her ribcage, over her belly and down to her hips. He shouldered her legs apart and breathed in the scent of her cunny. His mouth watered at the sight of it glistening with her juices.

“Now say ‘Thank you for all your hard work’.” He slid one long finger down her slit, gathering up her juices.

She moaned and squirmed, her hips lifting off the bed. Jon tugged lightly on her pubic hair to get her to pay attention. “Say it,” he commanded.


“Say it!”


He laughed at how quickly she said it, and it was perhaps the quickest she’d ever spoken since she’d begun to speak. She glared at him and he licked up her slit. “I wasn’t laughing at your speech, sweet girl,” he told her. “I was laughing at your eagerness to get my mouth on your sweet cunt. Say it again. Slower this time.”

“Thank you for all your hard work.”

“That’s my girl,” he murmured and settled in to feast on his sweet Sansa. When he made her cum with his mouth, he glided up her body and slid inside her. He couldn’t have thought clearly enough to give her another phrase to practice at that point if he tried. He liked being inside her after he’d made her just cum. Her cunt would clamp down on him and drive him mad.

Somehow, by sheer force of will, he managed to stop thrusting. She looked up at him in disbelief.

“Say you love me,” he rasped. “Tell me you’re mine.”


“Say it, She-Wolf. Say you love me. Tell me you’re mine.”

With a growl, she forced him back until he was on his back, his head toward the foot of the bed. She put her hand around his throat, but didn’t tighten her grip. Slowly, she began to ride him, undulating her hips in a way that drove Jon mad. His stomach clenched and he felt his release draw near.

Just as he was about to come, she leaned over and whispered, “I love you,” and he came so hard he thought he might faint.


Later, as they dressed for dinner with their guests, Jon – who had insisted on playing lady’s maid, at least partly – finished lacing up Sansa’s dress and then pulled her back against his front. “Did you mean it?” he asked. “That you love me?”

He turned her in his arms, wanting – needing – to see her face. She nodded, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment. Only Sansa could blush admitting she loved him followed by all the things they did to each other in bed.

“Can you say it again?” he asked softly. “So I can be sure?”

She pulled back, a mischievous glint in her eye and smirk on her lips. “Don’t be greedy.”

He pulled her back in. “I am greedy. Quite greedy.”

She smiled and kissed him softly. “Dinner.”

He sighed. “Say ‘good evening’.”

“Good evening,” she said.

He grinned and kissed her. “Say ‘the duck is delicious’.”

“The duck is delicious.”

“You’re getting better, Sansa, much better.”

She beamed up at him. “I have a good…teacher.” She frowned. “Not so good then.”

“You’ll have your setbacks from time to time. It’s fine.”

She shook her head. “No, must be perfect for the Queen.”

“Sansa,” he began on a sigh.

“Want to marry me or not?” she demanded. Her back was up now.

“I don’t need Dany’s permission to marry you. I did her a courtesy by asking her, but she can bugger off if she thinks she can stop us,” he said vehemently. “In fact, why don’t you practice telling Dany to bugger off?”

She placed her hand gently over his mouth. “Dragon, sshhhh…”

“No, I don’t care. I’m tired of being told what to do. It’s all I’ve done since I left home is listen to others tell me what they need me to do. What they want me to do. No one has asked what I want to do. No one cares.”

She frowned. “I care.”

“Insomuch as it doesn’t anger the Queen.”

“She has the power here, not you, and not me. I know you want to…want to…do what you want. Defy her. But she can stop that.”

Sansa could see his temper flare further. “She can try.” He met Sansa’s gaze straight on. “Nothing will take you away from me,” he said, his voice deep, almost…demonic. Her eyes widened and instantly, Jon’s temper deflated.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and pulled her into an embrace. “That wasn’t directed at you. She just…I don’t like you having to do her bidding. I don’t like her making you feel less than you are! You are Winterfell, Sansa. You belong here. You belong to the North. They would back you, not her.”

“Maybe not, if they knew what I was,” she said softly.

“Hmm. Well. We shall see in time, won’t we?”

She nodded, still holding onto him. She didn’t really want to leave the comfort of his arms. It would be nice, she thought, for it to just be us.

Sansa pulled back and looked up at him, biting her lip. Jon smiled, a forced one, cupped her cheek in his hand. “We’ll go now and meet—”

“I do love you…Dragon,” she said softly.

Jon stilled, and he heaved in a deep breath. “Sansa.”

“I was…afraid. Afraid that she could break us apart, and she still can—” When Jon started to protest, she put her hand over his mouth. “Listen, Dragon.”

He nodded once.

“No matter what happens,” she continued. “I want you to know that I do love you.”

Jon moved her hand away and claimed her lips in a searing kiss. “My love,” he gasped, and started to push her back to the bed, his lips still on hers.

She laughed and stopped him, her hands on his shoulders. “Dinner.”

He groaned.

“The duck is delicious,” she said.

He laughed. “Say ‘I wish to retire early so that my Dragon and I can get a head start on making love all night long’.”

Sansa laughed now, and darted out of his arms to the door. “No!”

He chased after her, but he didn’t have to chase her for very far. Ever mindful of the proprieties, Sansa slowed to a walk and Jon pulled her arm through his as they made their way down to dinner.

Chapter Text

“Jon, come. Sit by me,” Dany said as soon as he and Sansa entered the dining hall. She sat at the head of the table and gestured to the empty chair next to her. Daario stood in front of the setting next to that, and Tyrion stood before the setting on the other side, next to Dany, and there was a setting next to him.

Jon clenched his jaw, annoyed already by the layout. He felt Sansa squeeze his arm, no doubt warning him to reign in his temper. Then, Tryion came up to Sansa with a cordial smile and offered his hand to her. “My Lady, you are looking breathtaking this evening.”

It took some work to stuff down the growl that he could feel forming in the back of his throat.

Sansa gave him one last squeeze and took Tyrion’s proffered hand. “Thank you, Lord Tyrion.”

Tyrion beamed up at her, looking quite surprised and pleased to hear her speak, and Jon wanted to snatch her back in his arms and kiss her for speaking so effortlessly. Instead, he was forced to watch Tyrion escort her to the spot beside him. He pulled out her chair and was ever the gentlemen to her. And Sansa played her part of the highborn lady she was to perfection.

Jon was so proud of her. Of how far she’d come.

“Jon?” Dany said, sounding a bit impatient.

Jon nodded curtly, and strode over to sit beside Dany, though his gaze was drawn across the way to Sansa. Unfortunately, there was a rather large candelabra in the way that hindered his view of her.

“Jon, I wish to speak to you about any new news in the North,” Dany said. “We never got a chance earlier.”

Daario sat down beside Jon and chuckled. “How about we eat a little first?”

Dany looked over at her long-time lover and the man that was part of her counsel with a bit of a grin. “Fine then. Business later.”

When dinner was actually served, Dany made a point of looking down the table at Sansa and asking, “And how is dinner, Lady Sansa? Is it to your liking?”

“The duck is delicious, Your Grace,” Sansa said with a small smile. Jon grinned down the table at her, though Sansa scarcely looked his way. He remembered a night when she was more wolf than human and growled at a female servant who got a bit too close to him. He’d sent everyone from the table and Sansa had mounted him right in his chair, driving the point home as she rode him that he was hers.

Dany’s smile faltered a bit, as though she’d expected Sansa to trip up on her words and was disappointed when she hadn’t. “It is,” she murmured. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

Sansa nodded. “I am.”

“Your speech is better. Even better than this afternoon,” Dany said. “What’s changed?”

“Leave her alone,” Jon said softly and yet warningly.

“I am merely wondering, Jon,” Dany said.

“No, you’re not,” he said, his temper flaring.

“I have been practicing, Your Grace,” Sansa said. This time she shot Jon a look across the table. No doubt if she was closer, she would have kicked him.

“It’s always nice when someone actually listens to me and what I ask of them,” Dany said pointedly, looking at Jon with a frown.

“Perhaps…Your Grace…we could hold a feast. In your honor,” Sansa said.

Jon looked at her sharply while Dany beamed. “I like the sound of that,” Dany said.

“If I remember correctly, Lady Sansa does love to dance,” Tyrion said. “And she does it well.”

Sansa smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Tyrion said. “Perhaps you would save a dance for me?”

“Yes,” Sansa said with a nod.

Jon again felt a growl begin to rise.

“It’s settled then,” Dany said. “We’ll have a feast!”

Jon sighed and sat back. He hated feasts. Hated the whole bit with having to mingle and be on display. Also, was Sansa even ready for such a thing? Why had she suggested a feast before she had even met with the people of Winterfell tomorrow? Was she that certain of her ability to win them over and to speak properly? Or was it something else that had propelled her to suggest such a dreadful thing?

The sound of Sansa giggling roused his attention, and he glared across the table at Tyrion.

“They seem to get on well,” Dany murmured.

“Even better than a married couple,” Daario added. “That’s what they were, right?”

“Yes,” Dany said, watching Tyrion make Sansa laugh.

Jon had had enough. He stood and dropped his napkin to the table. He looked at Sansa, who was still giggling and said loudly, “Sansa, may I escort you to your bedchamber?”

“Jon!” Dany exclaimed. “You’re being quite rude. I think it’s obvious that Lady Sansa is enjoying herself with Lord Tyrion. Besides, we have business to discuss. Tyrion, would you be a love and escort Lady Sansa from the dining hall?”

“Of course, my Queen,” Tyrion said and pushed his chair back. He stood and held out a hand to Sansa. “Will you remind me of where the kitchen is, my Lady?”

“Of course,” Sansa said and got to her feet. She curtsied to Dany, nodded at Jon and Daario and then followed Tyrion from the room. Her gale of laughter could be heard from beyond the door and Jon wanted to hit something. Or someone.

“Sit, Jon,” Dany commanded. “Lady Sansa is in good hands. He was once her husband after all.”

“And he never will be again,” Jon growled. The beast inside him was roused, it was the only way to describe how Jon felt. It felt like something separate, and yet part of him at the same time. He felt it like a clawing thing inside him, like a fire in his belly. Just like Sansa’s wolf, his beast had claimed Sansa and it saw Tyrion as a threat. It saw Dany as a threat too, but in a different way.

“Jon,” Dany said softly. “Please sit.”

He did, slowly.

“Now tell me please, what is happening to you?”

Jon didn’t know how to explain it. He didn’t even fully understand it himself. And he wasn’t keen on the idea of giving Dany the ins and outs of his and Sansa’s sexual escapades. Those were private. They were for him and Sansa only.

“You mated like wolves, didn’t you?” Daario asked.

Jon shot him a warning look and Daario held up his hands. “I was just trying to help.”

“Yes,” Jon hissed. “We did.”

“And it roused this…this beast in you?” Dany asked.

“It didn’t happen right away,” Jon explained. “It happened over time. Something I felt was there since I’d been brought back was unleashed.”

“Damn, that’s some good sex,” Daario murmured.

Jon picked up his knife and placed it at Daario’s throat so fast that Daario was mid-reach for his goblet when it happened. His looked at Jon in utter disbelief.

“Jon!” Dany exclaimed.

“Don’t even think of her like that,” Jon growled at Daario.

“I’m not – I won’t!” Daario said and raised his hands again.

Slowly, Jon lowered the knife.

“Your eyes did it again,” Daario said softly. “They went red. And they went red earlier when Lady Sansa was laughing with Tyrion.”

“You do not seem more beast than man,” Dany observed. “You have not lost yourself to it the way Sansa has.” She frowned. “At least not yet.”

“Sansa is getting better,” Jon said. “For you. She wishes to please you.” Though the Gods know why, he thought.

“Tomorrow, I would like to take you to see Rhaegal. I would like to see how he responds to you,” Dany said. “He has always been your dragon to ride, but I’d be curious to see if he recognizes the dragon in you now.”

Jon looked at her. “So you do think it’s a dragon inside me?”

“What other explanation is there?” she asked. “You are not like Sansa with the wolf. Or like Ghost. You seem to give off heat, and your eyes turn red, though again, you do not hold the same attributes as Ghost. It is the only explanation…though I wish there was a better one.”

Jon wished there was a better one too, but he’d learned long ago that sometimes there just weren’t explanations for the things that happened.

“I am the Mother of Dragons and yet I do not have those abilities,” she said softly, sounding almost jealous.

“I don’t even know what my abilities are,” Jon said. “I am still learning. Bits of my…dragon side are being revealed to me slowly.”

“What have you noticed that we have not seen?” Daario asked.

Jon shifted in his seat. “I have a craving for raw meat.”

Both Dany and Daario looked at him in surprise. And a bit in disgust. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair, his face reddening. “And my…my appetites have increased.”

“You’re hungry all the time?” Dany asked.

“I don’t think he meant those sorts of appetites,” Daario said.

Silence fell, and Dany sat back, rubbing her forehead wearily.

“What other news can you tell me?” Dany asked, sounding suddenly quite tired.

Jon cleared his throat. “Well, there is the matter of the Boltons…”


When Jon returned to his and Sansa’s bedchamber, it was late. She was already asleep, curled up on her side in her shift. He didn’t know why she bothered, because he was just going to pull it off as soon as he got into bed. He stripped himself bare, washed in the basin in the corner, and then climbed into the bed.

As he moved closer to her, he was assaulted by a scent he didn’t recognize. He leaned in closer to Sansa and realized that he could smell her, her sweet Sansa scent, but there was a scent that covered hers strongly, it smelled like pine needles.

It smelled like Tyrion Lannister.

Well. This was new, this smelling bit.

Jon didn’t like it.

The beast in him rose up and he growled as he pushed her onto her back and climbed over. Sansa started awake with a gasp and her hand reached out, intent on clawing at him. He grabbed both her wrists and pinned them to the bed.

“You smell like him,” he said, the demonic voice coming out. “Why do you smell like him?”

She growled, baring her teeth. “Let me go.”

“Why do you smell like him?” he demanded again.

“Tyrion with me at dinner, in the kitchens!” she shouted at him. “You smell like the Queen…and her lover.”

“I only want you to smell like me and you,” Jon said and released her wrists. His demonic voice was gone, and the heat that had ripped through him was ebbing, but only slightly. He ripped her shift down the middle with his bare hands and then placed both hands on her breasts as he leaned in and claimed her mouth.

She bit his lip and he yelped. He pulled his head back and she growled at him, baring her teeth again. Jon growled back, his veins heating up like fire. “Deny me?!” he roared.

She narrowed her eyes. “No.” And then she shoved him off her and pinned him to the bed. She was gloriously naked save for the sleeves that were still around her arms. Her shift billowed out behind her like a cape. She put her hand to his throat as she rubbed her pussy along his hard cock.

“Sansa,” Jon grunted.

“Dominate me?” she asked with a lilt at the end, posing it as a challenge rather than an actual question.

“Yes.” He rolled them so that she was on her back, and then he shoved himself inside her. He roared, she howled. His thrusts were punishing, and somewhere in the part of his mind where the beast had not taken over, Jon worried he was hurting her.

But Sansa was thrusting back at him for all she was worth and he let the worry go. His She-Wolf was not one to let him have control for long though. She pushed him off her and onto his back and then mounted him again. She rode him at a gallop until Jon felt the desire to be in control again. He moved her to her hands and knees and slammed inside her, causing her to howl.

Animals, he thought in that human part of him again. We are taking each other like animals.

When Sansa reached her peak, Jon held onto her hips tightly, digging his fingers into her hips to hold on. When he peaked, he roared so loudly he felt as though his body shook from the force of it. In the distance he heard Dany’s dragons roar back.

Jon collapsed against Sansa’s back, pinning her to the bed. She let out a whine of discomfort and he rolled off, dragging her with him. With his arms around her waist, Jon nuzzled into the damp hair at her neck and inhaled. “Me,” he mumbled. “Smell like me.”

Both of them fell into a deep sleep.

Chapter Text

Jon awoke slowly the following morning, one arm around Sansa in a loose embrace. His eyes opened slowly and he moved his legs, which were entwined with Sansa's. She stirred as well, slowly opening her eyes to look at him. He smiled sleepily at her and she moaned and snuggled into him. He loved her like this. Not yet awake and burrowing into him. Her hair was a mess not having been properly plaited before bed, not that it would have done much good anyway after their animalistic coupling the night before.

"Did I hurt you last night?" he asked, his voice rough from sleep. She shook her head, her nose rubbing against his chest. She lifted her head and looked at him in question. He shook his head. "No, sweet girl, I'm fine."

Unconvinced though, Jon lifted the furs off her and peered down at her hips. She had bruises the size of his fingertips from where he'd gripped her. "Sweetling, I did hurt you..." he protested on a whine.

"No, you didn't," she murmured a bit hoarsely. "I'm fine, Dragon."

"Let me make it up to you," Jon whispered as he lifted the arm closest to him and kissed each fingertip, the inside of her wrist, the inside of her elbow, and then her shoulder. Sansa watched him with a soft smile on her face, and just as she reached for him with her other arm, he moved her onto her back and straddled her. His cock rest against her mound. Sansa whined and pouted at him, causing Jon to smile and kiss her soundly. When Sansa displayed wanting him as much as he wanted her, it filled him with a joy and a warmth that he could scarce contain.

"Where you going?" she asked.

Jon smirked as he lifted the other arm and repeated what he’d kissed on the other arm. Then he leaned over her and nuzzled under her chin. "I'm hungry, sweet girl. Will you feed me?"

In answer, Sansa spread her legs. Jon chuckled as he lay kisses along her neck. "Are you worried about today?" he asked just before he licked her pulse point.

"Little," she murmured, and rubbed herself against him.

"You know the only one you have to impress is your people, not Dany, right?" Jon said as he peppered the tops of her breasts with kisses.

He looked up at her. She was frowning. "Trust me, sweetling. You know the North, and you are the North. If they approve of you, it matters not what Dany thinks."

She still didn't look quite convinced, but that was fine. She'd see. Instead, Jon busied himself with making love to his she-wolf. He lay down against her, and kissed around the nipple of one breast and then took it in his mouth and sucked. Sansa moaned and speared her fingers through his hair, shifting under him seeking friction.

He kissed a path to her other breast and repeated the action. Sansa moaned again, jutting out her chest. "Dragon."

He grinned and kissed the space between her breasts. "My sweet, beautiful girl who brought me to life."

She smiled tenderly at him and he leaned up and kissed her. Then he returned to her belly and placed kisses all around it. When he got to her hips, he pressed tender kisses to each of them, and then he moved her legs further apart and kissed his way down one leg - two kisses along her thigh, one on her knee, and then three down her shins. He got up on his knees, lifted her foot and kissed her heel, the arch, and then Sansa moved her foot away with a sour look at him and he laughed. "I'm loving you, Sansa," he told her. "Let me love all of you."

"Even feet?" she asked incredulously.

"Even feet,” he said as he picked up the other leg and again repeated the procession of kisses.

He then lay on his belly with his face right at her cunt. Sansa was biting her lip as she watched him, and her breathing had increased. She wanted this. So did he.

Parting her nether lips with his fingers, Jon licked up her slit, gathering up the juices that had already gathered. Gods, he loved how wet she got for him. Jon swirled his tongue around her nub and then flicked it back and forth.

Sansa reached for him, her fingers going back in his hair. “Dragon,” she half-sighed, half moaned.

He sucked her nub in his mouth and she whined again, her nails digging a bit into his scalp. He then slid two fingers inside her while lapping at her nub with the tip of his tongue. Listening to her moans and sighs was making him hot. And very hard. He rubbed himself against the bed to relieve some tension. He was not going to fuck her, not this time. This was all about Sansa. All about loving her and showing her how he cherished and worshipped her.

He moved his head to bite down lightly on the inside of her thigh while sawing his fingers in and out of her slowly and rubbing her nub with the other hand.

“Dragon, yes…Dragon!”

When she came, Jon put his mouth back on her, taking all she had to give.

He got up on his knees between her thighs and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His cock was hard and dripping. He leaned over to kiss Sansa, when she sat up and took his cock in her hand.

With one touch, he was undone. He came hard on her stomach and breasts, and there was something about seeing his seed on her that drove him crazy. He’d marked her. She was his.

Without warning, tears flooded his eyes and he pulled Sansa against him and held onto her tightly. She wound her legs around his hips and perched on his lap as she held him back just as tightly. “Jon?” she asked gently. “What’s wrong?”

Jon buried his face in the crook of her neck. “I just love you so much. I didn’t know that I could…that I could love another person as much as I love you. I didn’t even…with Ygritte.”


“Another time. A story for another time.” He pulled his face back and pressed his forehead against hers. “I am yours and you are mine. I’m going to love you forever, Sansa. In this life, the next life…I would kill for you. I would die for you.”

She put her hand over his mouth and shook her head. “No dying, Jon. No.”

“I would. For you,” he croaked. “When I think about how lost I was until you found me…how numb. You brought me back. There has been so much death and pain and darkness. With you, in your arms, I am happy. The happiest I’ve ever been. I’ll not give it up. Not ever.”

“Won’t have to,” she murmured. She patted the side of his face and ran her fingers through his curls. “My Dragon,” she cooed.

“Yes,” he gasped. “I am yours.”

She kissed him, licking her tongue inside his mouth and Jon returned her hungry kiss fervently. “Bath, Dragon?” she asked. “I wash you.”

“You’re going to take care of me now?” he asked with a smile.

She nodded. “Always.”

Chapter Text

Tyrion hung back a bit as he watched Jon and Sansa emerge from the castle to join himself and Dany in the courtyard. To the casual observer, which Tyrion was not, it would appear that Lady Sansa’s cousin, Prince Jon, was escorting her quite happily through the courtyard.

And Tyrion knew he had to be happy. He’d heard that roar last night.

Sansa had her arm slung through Jon’s all proper and ladylike, but it was the lean of Sansa’s body into Jon’s that gave her away. Not to mention that grin on her beautiful face as she gazed at Jon.

It was the grin on Jon’s face that gave him away too. Never had Tyrion seen a man so besotted. He’d had the pleasure of meeting Jon quite a few times over the years, had even considered Jon a friend, but Tyrion had never seen him smile so damned much.

If Tyrion wasn’t so happy for him, he would have been nauseated by it.

As it was, Dany was none too pleased. Tyrion felt the smile he’d been donning begin to fall when he caught the look on his Queen’s face. It stung, how jealous she was of Sansa. He also hadn’t expected it, but he wasn’t sure why. Dany had once wanted to marry Jon for the good of the realm, and when he’d declined, Dany had taken it in stride. Tyrion now wondered if Dany just figured Jon would eventually come around.

Apparently, Dany didn’t know Jon all that well. It was fine. She was still new to Jon Snow – er, Targaryen.

Was she in love with him though, that was the question. Or did she just not like to lose, and to someone who could change into a wolf. Was it that she wished she had been able to incite Jon to love her as she had so easily done with other men who came in her path? Tyrion hadn’t thought her to be so vain, or as petty as all that, but her behavior towards Sansa was quite peculiar. She had Daario after all, what did she want with Jon?

“A Queen does not like to be kept waiting,” Dany huffed. Tyrion could tell she’d tried to sound as though she was teasing, but the edge clearly there in her voice took that away.

Sansa’s smile fell and she let go of Jon to bow to her Queen. “Good morning, my Queen,” she said and Tyrion smiled again. She was talking just fine this morning.

Dany looked at Jon expectantly. “Do you not have a greeting for your Queen and aunt?”

Jon bowed. “Good morning.”

Dany offered up her cheek, which surprised Tyrion. And, from the looks of it, Jon. Sansa, he noticed turned away while Jon placed a quick and chaste kiss on his aunt’s cheek. She also balled her hands into fists. He caught a scowl forming before her face turned away, too.

The wolf must be coming out, Tyrion thought. Dany better watch it. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if Sansa’s wolf was provoked. It was obvious she and Jon were mated in the most primal way possible, and if Sansa’s wolf felt Dany was a threat to her…well, Tyrion was familiar with what wolves did to their prey.

Jon reached for Sansa immediately. He took her fisted hand and looped it through his arm. He leaned in and whispered something in her ear that none of them could hear while placing his hand over her fist. Whatever he said made Sansa relax some, her hands unclenching from their fists. He then pressed a kiss to her temple that lingered much longer than was proper.

Dany’s eyes narrowed only briefly before she said abruptly, “Sansa, I’d prefer if you walked with me, by my side. Jon and Tyrion can follow.”

Jon’s jaw clenched, but he let her go. Only after kissing her temple once again.

Well then. This was going to be quite a day wasn’t it?


“Oh, my Lady, I am so glad to see you out and about,” the old woman said as she bowed before Sansa. “Your presence here was greatly missed. Your family…” Her eyes shut as tears rolled down her plump cheeks. “They were the kindest rulers here in Winterfell.”

Sansa grasped the old woman’s gnarled hands and kissed them. “Thank you,” she said, and Jon could tell she was holding back her own emotions.

The old woman bowed again and they all moved on.

Jon beamed at the back of Sansa’s head, wishing she would turn around and look at him so he could say “I told you.”

“Have a care, Jon,” Tyrion said softly beside him.

Jon pulled his gaze from Sansa, who had been stopped by one of the men who helped restore Winterfell to its former glory, and glanced at Tyrion. “Pardon?”

Tyrion fell back further from Sansa and Dany, and Jon sighed and fell back with him.

“Dany is not herself, I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Tyrion said. “I’m not sure what the problem is, but your displays of affection for our Lady Sansa—”

My lady, Tyrion. She’s my lady.”

“She also belongs to Winterfell does she not?”

The look Jon gave him made Tyrion smirk which only incensed Jon more. Typically, he enjoyed Tyrion’s company, but with Dany acting as she was, Jon was…concerned. With Sansa alive, and having been married to Tyrion in King’s Landing, albeit eons ago, would Dany now decide that they were to keep to their vows? He just wanted them all to go away and leave him and Sansa in peace. He regretted ever asking Dany for permission to marry Sansa. He should have just done it and begged for forgiveness later.

“It is you I hear howling at night, is it not?”

Jon heard the question and was pulled from his conversation with Tyrion. He turned his head and looked at Sansa talking with a builder. He started to go to her, not liking the question at all, and halfway there he realized that he had been far enough away that he should not have heard that question at all.

He would get to that later, but first…

“And it is I you hear roar at night,” Jon said as he came up beside Sansa, inserting himself between her and Dany.

Both Sansa and Dany exclaimed, “Jon!” as a scold. He didn’t care.

“I meant no offense, your Royal Highness,” the builder said, turning red and bowing his head. “I just think that…well, the Starks were all wolves in some way, correct?”

Sansa smiled and reached forward to place her hand upon the man’s arm. “Yes.”

The builder beamed at her, looking rather…lovestruck. Jon felt a growl start in the back of his throat.

“I do know that some people are afraid you, my Lady,” the builder went on. “About what you are and what you can do, but most of us, we just feel…protected.”

“You are,” Sansa assured him. “I promise.”

Dany let out a breath of air that sounded a bit like a “humph”. When Jon looked at her, she said, “I think we’re done for the day.”

Jon wanted to tell her figured that would happen when she realized Sansa had passed her little test and wouldn’t be cowed by her or her people. And they were her people.

“Come, love,” Jon said and pulled Sansa’s hand away from the builder. “Let’s have luncheon, yes?”

Sansa frowned slightly, but then nodded. “Yes.”

Jon let Dany lead, and Tyrion ran to catch up with her, while Jon let he and Sansa fall back some so he could speak with her. “How do you feel, she-wolf?”

Sansa sighed. “Tired.”

“Well, it’s all your fault, you know. You really shouldn’t have kept me up so late riding me into oblivion,” he teased her.

She shot him a look. “Me? You woke me up saying I smelled like Tyrion.”

“You did. And I didn’t like it. And now I smell that man on you, and I don’t like that.”

“Shall I keep away from everyone then?”

“Could you?”

She glanced sidelong at him. “Perhaps you…you should tell Queen – the Queen – not to demand kisses from you then.”

“Gladly. Perhaps you could show me later who I belong to.”

Sansa ducked her head, hiding a smile. She pinched his arm lightly and he let a small yelp, earning a look from Dany ahead of them.

“First though, we should get you fed and get you a nap,” Jon declared.

“I cannot nap, Jon.”

“Why not?”

“I have to plan the feast. Dany asked about it. I have to…follow through.”

He could tell she was tired. Her speech was starting to break up. “I’ll help,” he said.

“No, Jon. My job. You…have duties of your own.”

“My duty is to you first, Sansa.”

She stopped walking, forcing him to as well. They turned in towards each other and she looked up at him with those big blue eyes of hers. Right now they were earnest and full of concern. “Jon, you must…show that you can do your duty.”

“She knows I can do my duties, Sansa,” Jon said irritably.

“She is jealous of me,” she said plainly. “Play nice until she…leaves.” After a quick, furtive glance around them, Sansa leaned up and kissed him quickly. “Behave, Dragon.”

And then she was off to join Dany’s side.

Jon sighed and made his way to Tyrion. Perhaps now was a good time to finish that chat they’d started earlier.

Chapter Text

"Tyrion, a word?" Jon asked after a quick luncheon. Sansa was off planning a feast, a small counsel of servants and Dany with a list of demands, holed up in the kitchens to discuss menu options with the cook.

"Of course," Tyrion said and followed Jon to his solar where they could have some privacy.

"I want to continue the chat we were having earlier," Jon said when they were both seated across from each other.

"She would be very cross with me if she knew we were having this conversation," Tyrion said.

"It wouldn't be the first time we've had a conversation about Dany behind her back," Jon said with a small smile. "I doubt it will be the last. I know you are loyal to her, Tyrion."

"Yes," Tyrion said, looking a bit pained. He looked Jon squarely in the eye. "As loyal to her as you are to Lady Sansa."

Jon leaned back, his eyes widening as that information sank in. "Do you mean to say--"

"I do mean to say."

"And how is that going?"

"As well as you can imagine considering she has a lover already, and appears to be jealous over Sansa because of you. Both are terribly inconvenient."

Jon knew this was no laughing matter, but this was Tyrion, and his delivery always managed a laugh. He offered up a wan smile when Jon chuckled, and then Jon stopped smiling and shook his head. "I do not understand where it is all coming from. Months ago she asked to wed me to bring the realms together. I refused and convinced her we didn't need to wed. Now Sansa comes back home, changed, and when I ask Dany to marry..." He sighed and scratched at his beard absently. "Has she said anything? Has she intimated to you what she wants exactly?"

"Not at all. I cannot decide if it was something she thought in time you'd come around to--" Jon snorted. Tyrion smiled. "Precisely. Or if she simply does not like to lose.”

“There was nothing to lose. I didn’t love her and she didn’t love me. What she suggested was political.”

“Which is what makes me circle back to she had feelings for you all along, but for some reason chose not to express them when she had the chance.”

Jon shook his head. “It still wouldn’t have mattered. I just didn’t feel that way for her. In some ways she and I are a lot alike, and in other ways her and I utterly different. I’m more Stark than Targaryen—”

“The dragon coming out would beg to differ.”

Jon nodded, smiling. “There is that, yes. But this is my home. I would be miserable in the South, and I would be miserable ruling beside Dany. She knows this – or at least she should.”

“Might I suggest you talk to her directly before this continues on as it has been? I fear for Sansa’s well-being…”

“I will take care of Sansa,” Jon said sharply.

Tyrion held up a hand. “I do not doubt your ability to do so. You’ve managed quite well so far. But I do know that you and Dany have been at odds since she arrived, and that Dany’s demands and comments have been wearing on Sansa. When she is distressed, you become distressed as well. Dany seems to interpret this not as something she has done, but that Sansa is falling short in being a partner to you.”

Jon sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Now perhaps we could discuss the Bolton’s and the threat against Sansa?”

Jon leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “What do you propose?”


“I am in full agreement. After what they did to Robb and Catelyn…”

“Well, my family had something to do with that as well, Jon.”

“Yes, that is true. Yet it was the Bolton’s that carried it all out. I do not include them when I meet with the Houses in the North. I let them fend for themselves; they are not part of plans. But now with them hunting Sansa?”

Tyrion nodded, deciding not to mention how Jon’s eyes flashed red at the mention of it. “I understand. That, I will talk to Dany about. Yes?”

Jon nodded and the pair shook hands before Tyrion left. Jon went to his desk to tend to ledgers and correspondence. Tonight, he would discuss with Sansa the talk he would have with Dany and see what she suggested. He trusted her opinions, and most importantly, he did not want to keep anything from her.

He sighed as he looked out the window and the blazing sun. He wondered how Sansa was faring with the feast planning, and while he wanted to see her and find out, he also didn’t want to hover or give Dany any more reason to believe Sansa couldn’t handle anything. If only Dany knew what Sansa had been primed for as a child, she would have no doubt in her mind…

He sighed and picked up a letter, wondering if he would last very long without needing his fill of his sweet girl.


Sansa felt a ripple at her back and she braced herself against the stone wall with two hands against it. The only light that shown in the crypts was the one she’d brought down with her.

She was panting as she dug her nails into the wall and she felt them lengthen. A cry ripped from her throat and she tried her best to tamp it down.

The wolf wanted out.

The wolf was angry.

For two hours she listened to Dany change her mind again and again about what she wanted for the feast. She listened to her shoot down any ideas Sansa had. Sansa had grinned and bore it. Dany was the Queen. Dany was Jon’s aunt. Dany had the power to make or break her.

But then she’d brought up that Ygritte woman and told Sansa the full tale of Ygritte and Jon’s love story as though she’d been there. “Oh how he’d loved her,” Dany had said. “She had red hair. Just like yours. Isn’t that funny? Maybe he sees something of her in you.”

That was when Sansa had started to unravel.

She wanted to find Jon and claim him, but her wolf wanted to come out. It wanted blood. It wanted to run. It wanted free.

She’d run to the crypts to get away from people. She needed room to fight the changes.

It was proving difficult.

She let out another cry as her feet began to stretch, then her hands. She felt her back hunch and lengthen and she began to cry. She wanted to fight it but it was getting hard, so hard.

She slammed a hand – a paw at this point – into the cold stone of the wall and a jagged edge tore through her palm. The sting of it shocked her body and changing ceased.

Sansa slid to the floor of the crypt and concentrated on the pain. Don’t change, don’t change, don’t change…

She knew Jon loved her. She knew it. She felt it in everything he did – the way he looked at her with such love, the way he took care of her. It was just ---just that she still worried it was the wolf he loved more. The wildness in her that was brought forth with the wolf. Wildlings were wild, wasn’t it possible that she did remind Jon of his former lover? He had just mentioned her that very morning, but he’d said he hadn’t felt the same…

The doubts once there wouldn’t go away though. And she knew, she knew, Dany had mentioned Ygritte on purpose. Knew she was provoking her into…into changing? Or into giving Jon up? She knew Dany wanted Jon for her own, that much was clear. The moment Dany had insisted on that kiss on her cheek that morning like some petulant child, Sansa had known it.


The almighty roar of her name practically shook the ground beneath her feet. She gasped and looked up, expecting to find Jon standing right there before her.

A growl erupted in the back of her throat and she tried to tamp it down. No no no…the wolf. The wolf was threatening to come back.


She caught a whiff of his scent and knew he was coming.

Don’t change don’t change don’t change…

“Where are you?”

His demonic voice was like a vibration through her body and she growled, baring her teeth in response.

Jon growled back. “Show. Yourself.”

Sansa got to her feet, and she felt the hair on her arms thicken and then retreat just as quickly. Her nails sharpened and she held herself still. The wolf was torn between howling because its mate was there, and feeling threatened by the dragon.

She saw his eyes before she saw the rest of him. They were red and glowing. When he came into focus under the light it was as though steam wafted off of him. It was like the hot springs, just a fine wisp curling in the air around him.

“Hide from me?” he demanded, the demon voice firmly in place.

“Hide. Not from you,” she replied.

“I don’t like it when I can’t find you,” he told her and lunged at her. He gripped her arms and she snapped her teeth at him.

“You change?” he asked.

“Fight it… Let me go.”


She snapped her teeth at him again he grasped her chin his hand, making her look at the red of his eyes. He kissed her hard, slamming his mouth down on hers in a kiss that would no doubt bruise a normal woman. His mouth was hot.

Sansa nipped at his tongue and he growled and spun her around. He pushed her against a tomb and hiked up her skirts. “Thought…you…in…danger,” Jon ground out as he ripped her small clothes away. His speech was like hers. He was more animal than man.

She was more animal than woman.

He slapped her bum hard and she twisted her body to swipe at him. She caught him on the face and drew blood. He shoved her back down and hunched over her. She felt him fumbling with his breeches. Then felt his hard cock at her ass. Sansa pawed at the tomb, her hands morphing into that of a wolf. She dug her nails into the stone and felt the fur burst forth on her arms.

Jon shoved his hard cock inside her and she howled. He roared and began fucking her hard and relentlessly.

“Don’t. Hide. From. Me,” he hissed in her ear, and caught the scent of Sulphur.

His skin was hot, almost too hot, and his cock felt like Valyrian Steel in her cunt. Her teeth elongated and she snarled.

His hands dug into her hips and she felt the sting of nails even though she knew somewhere in her human brain that Jon didn’t have long nails. He bit them to the skin. She grabbed his hand and thrust it forward onto the tomb. Black. His nails were long and black and pointed.

“Cum!” he commanded on a shout as he placed a hand on the middle of her back and shoved her down.

The stone of the tomb hit her in just the right spot while Jon pounded inside her, and she threw her head back and howled, the sound of it echoing off the walls and ringing in her ears.

When Jon let go inside her, he roared and clamped down on her neck with his teeth. They were sharp; they pierced her skin. His seed spurted inside her, hot in a way she had never felt before, and she snapped her teeth at the air, feeling a foamy drool drip from her lips.

Sansa was only aware of the pounding her heart as her body fell limp against the tomb. The wolf receded. Jon slumped against her back and his body grew cooler.

“Sansa,” he whispered, panting. “What was that?”

She had no answer. She had no words. Her legs gave way, and Jon wrapped his arms around her middle, easing her down with him to the ground. They sat, slumped together, trying to catch their breath.

Chapter Text

All the fire that had built up inside him and had then been expelled left Jon cool to the touch. He sank his back against the tomb they'd mated on and pulled Sansa onto his lap. She straddled him, her arms going around him as he began to cry into her chest, holding her so tight against him, she could scarcely breathe.

"I hurt you," he whimpered and lifted his head, running his fingers over the bite he'd given her on her neck. She hadn't even realized that she'd bled until his fingertips came away with it. Sansa touched the spot on his cheek where she'd scratched him. "I hurt you, too."

"You scratched me. I bit you, Sansa."

She framed his face with her hands and peered into his eyes searchingly. "Dragon."

"Is that what it's like for you? To just lose yourself completely...?"

She smiled. "Been trying to tell you."

He huffed a laughed that was more like a groan and buried his face back in her chest. "I was out of my mind. I was here and yet...not. I couldn't find you, Dany didn't know where you'd gone, no one knew, and I just...I was so afraid you'd changed and managed to get out of the gates. I kept thinking you'd be captured and..." He trailed off, his skin once again growing warmer. He moaned as his cock grew hard, Sansa could feel it poking her thigh. "I need you again," he gasped. "I need you. Please."

Sansa lifted up, bunching up her skirts, and then slid down his cock with ease. She was so wet from their mingled juices that it was no effort at all to take him inside.

"Sansa," he gasped and gripped her face in his hands. He kissed her desperately as she moved over him. He broke the kiss and lowered his mouth to her neck, to the spot where he'd bit her. His tongue flicked out and he licked her.

He was lapping up her blood.

She began to bounce harder on his cock. His hands gripped her thighs and she felt the sting of his sharp nails. She inhaled deeply and looked down at the blood on his cheek. She licked it. Jon lifted his head and growled low and soft. Sansa lapped at him, tasting him, drinking him in.

She moved harder, faster, feeling her release near, and knowing he was close too.

"Mine," he whispered with every bounce on his cock. "Mine mine mine mine mine mine!"

She lifted her head and howled, the metallic taste of him in her mouth as she came and came and came. Jon, her Dragon, was right behind her, roaring, lifting his hips and pouring his essence into her.

"I love you," he breathed into her skin. "I love you so much, Sansa. My She-wolf."

"I love you, Jon," she murmured in his ear as she pressed his face against her chest and ran her fingers through his hair in a soothing manner. "My Dragon."

"Don't ever leave me," he begged, his lips moving against her skin as though he couldn't bear to part from her. "Don't ever go where I can't find you."

Tears welled up in her eyes and she nodded. "I won't."

"I would die without you," he whispered.

"Don't say that."

"It's true."


He didn't argue any further, but Sansa knew it wasn't because he'd changed his mind. She drew his face up and smiled at him. "Let's have a bath, yes?"

His smile was small but there. "Taking care of me again, She-wolf?"

She nodded. "Never...changed before. Not easy...?"

He shook his head. "It scared me."

She ran her fingers along the side of his face. "I will help."

He sighed, his breath a puff of air against her lips. "You always do, my love."


After grabbing robes for afterwards, Jon and Sansa made their way down to the hot springs and helped each other undress. After seeing to their own needs in cleaning off, they saw to each other. Sansa scooped up water in palm of her hands and trickled it down his arms and his hair and then scrubbed her fingers into his beard, causing him to laugh.

Her Dragon sighed and buried his face in her neck, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. "When you change," he began, "do you feel like you touch something dark inside you?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Does it scare you?"

"Sometimes. It can feel like a...release. Freeing."

He nodded against her. "This morning, when you were speaking to that builder. I heard him ask you if it was you he heard howl at night." He lifted his head and looked at her. "Sansa, I was nowhere near you to be able to hear that."

She tapped her ear. "Acute hearing. Beasts often have it."

"What happened?" he rasped. "Why were you changing?"

She didn't want to talk about it. It would just upset him, and create more troubles. And now that she'd gotten her wolf under control, she wasn't keen on bringing it all up.

"Did Dany upset you?" Jon pressed.

"Planning...feast. It was a lot of work and tired. Agitated."

"What are you not telling me, She-wolf?"

"I tell you everything, Dragon."

He pursed his lips together, but didn't say anymore. Instead, he lifted her up and she drew her legs around his waist. He placed her on a stone seat in the water and pressed his cheek against hers as he ran his hand through her hair.



"You mentioned...Ygritte this morning. Who was she?"

He pulled his head back and looked at her. "Is that what it was about?"

She shook her head. "No, but I want to know who she was."

He sighed heavily, as though this was the last thing he wanted to talk about, and told her about Ygritte. All the while, he kept touching her: running his fingers across her mouth, under chin, through her hair, or across her collarbone.

"Do I...remind you of her?" Sansa asked in a small voice.

Jon looked horrified. "No! Why would you ask me something like that?" His eyes narrowed. "What is going on, Sansa?"

"You said she had red hair," she pointed out. "I have red hair."

“And I knew you first. How do you know she didn’t remind me of you?”

She shot him a look and he laughed and leaned in close until the tips of their noses touched. “Is my she-wolf jealous?”

She let out a warning growl and tried to push away from him. Jon didn’t let her get very far. He kissed her instead. “Sansa, Sansa, Sansa…” he murmured. “You have nothing to be jealous of. She happened in another life. My previous life before I was reborn. Before I found you and you brought me back a second time. I loved her as a boy. I love you as a man. As a dragon. I can’t even find the words for you what I feel for you, Sansa. It’s so…vast and all encompassing…” He kissed her again and again and again.

Sansa burrowed into him when the kiss ended and shut her eyes, listening to his heart beat under her ear.

“When you’re ready,” he said after a long while, “I hope you’ll tell me what happened today.”

She swatted him in the stomach lightly and he laughed. “Come on, sweet girl. Let’s get some dinner and some sleep.”

She smirked at him. “Actually sleep?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe after another round. I suppose we better get inside so we can get an early start.”

Sansa giggled and Jon kissed her again for being her, and for knowing and being exactly what he needed. They had their troubles, namely in the form of Dany and Ramsay Bolton, but Jon was certain that as long as they had each other, they could weather this storm and any that came after it.

Chapter Text

Sansa woke before Jon the next morning, and was surprised that he didn't awaken when she climbed out of the bed. Usually, he awoke immediately when she so much as moved an inch away from him. Not that she was any better.

Turning as he had must have left him utterly exhausted. She understood all too well how that felt. She was often left feeling as though she could sleep for days after changing. She was tired now too, having fought it as hard as she had the day before, but she was on a mission. She didn't want any more rifts between the Dragon Queen and Jon. They were family after all. And, well, she was the Queen. Instead, she wanted to find a way to fix this.

Naturally, that meant she planned to speak with Tyrion.

She found him in the Godswood, which surprised her. He had never been a man of faith, or at least he'd never seemed that way.

When he saw her, he stood from the rock he'd been perched on and bowed. "My Lady Sansa. How are you this fine morning - and without your shadow?"

She smiled. "Hello, Tyrion. Might"

"Of course." He gestured to the stone. "Have a seat?"

"No, thank you. I'd rather stand."

"Very well. What may I help you with?"

"I think you know."

"So Jon has spoken with you about it then?"

Sansa blinked. "Pardon?"

Tyrion froze and stared at her. "He didn't tell you about our chat yesterday regarding Dany?"

Sansa pursed her lips together. "No, he didn't."

"I assume because you were otherwise occupied. We heard the howls and, uh, the 'almighty roar'."

Sansa looked down, a blush forming on her cheeks. "I apologize."

Tyrion held up a hand. "Don't. It's obvious how much you and Jon love each other. It's a rare gift in this world. After all you went through in King's Landing, you deserve to be happy."

Sansa looked back up at him, smiling. "Thank you. So do you - deserve happiness, that is. You, I hear, have been through just as much."

"All in the past," he said, looking rather resigned. And quite sad.

Sansa cocked her head to the side and studied him. “What would you like to be happy, Tyrion?”

“What I can’t have,” he replied with a self-deprecating laugh. “It seems to be my lot in life.”

“You are the Queen’s Hand. Not so terrible, is it?”

Tyrion studied her closely as though he was trying to work something out in his head. “No,” he said slowly. “Not so terrible.”

“Can you tell me what it is…she wants with Jon?”

“I wish I knew. That’s exactly what Jon and I discussed yesterday before you went missing and he became a force not to be reckoned with.”

“What did you and Jon…conclude then?”

“That he was to talk to her and get to the bottom of it.”

She nodded slowly and frowned, her hands folded demurely before her. “I wonder why he didn’t tell me.”

“It sounded like you had enough to contend with, my Lady. May I…may I ask you a question?”

She nodded.

“What is it like? To change?”

“It hurts. As the wolf I am free. Free of…constraint. I am something wild. But the changing…it hurts.”

“And you spent a lot of time as the wolf which is why your speech…?”

“Yes. Getting better?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“Do you believe her in love with him? If so, what of her lover?”

Tyrion’s laugh was bitter. “What of her lover indeed.” He looked up at Sansa and frowned. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re in love with her,” Sansa said in awe. “The thing you cannot have. It’s her.”

He looked resigned again, and nodded.

“Why do you…not tell her?”

“With her lover about? Tell me when you think would be a good time for such a confession of feelings?”


“This is not about me, my Lady. This is about you and Jon, and the mystery that is Daenerys Targaryen.”

“Should I confront her? Woman to woman?”

Tyrion looked horrified by the suggestion. “No, Sansa. Let Jon speak with her. To her, you are a threat. My only suggestion for you is to keep working on your speech, and show yourself as available to your people. If you can keep the wolf under wraps, and keep Jon from changing so that she does not think you unfit as his partner in life, and his partner in ruling Winterfell.”

Sansa shut her eyes briefly and rubbed her forehead. “She makes things hard. Constantly testing me.”

“And you keep passing,” Tyrion said.

Sansa looked at him uncertainly. “Do I?”

“Yes. You were brilliant with your people yesterday, Sansa. And she knows it.”

“Perhaps that is why she…difficult later.” She rubbed her hands together. “Almost…changed.”

“Fight it, Sansa, you must fight it. It could be what she’s angling for. Forewarned if forearmed.”

“I left so that I could…get control.”

Tyrion’s eyes narrowed as he watched her fidget. “Just talking about it and you’re agitated.”

Sansa nodded. “She…tried to make me jealous. Brought up… Ygritte.”

“Jon’s Wilding lover that died?”

“Yes. Insinuated my red hair reminded Jon of her.”

Tyrion shook his head. “I’m sorry, Sansa,” he sighed. “She’s grasping. That is the comment of a grasping woman. Anyone with eyes…and ears…can tell that Jon is in love with you. And completely and utterly yours.”

“You’re right about that, Tyrion,” came Jon’s voice from behind Sansa.

She turned slightly and beamed at him. “Good morning, Dragon.”

Jon smiled back, glancing at Tyrion cautiously, as he came upon her and drew her in close. He kissed her forehead. “Good morning, She-Wolf. Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You needed sleep.”

“Yes, but when I awoke I had need of you,” he murmured on a low growl.

She laughed and pushed at him, causing Jon to draw her in even closer. “What are we discussing out here alone?” Jon asked, looking at Tyrion.

“Calm down, Dragon—”

“You don’t call me that,” Jon sniped. “Only my She-Wolf calls me that.”

“You two really do have the most fitting pet names for each other, don’t you?” Tyrion drawled.

Jon shot him a warning look.

“Be nice, Dragon,” Sansa murmured. “We were discussing your aunt.” She lifted her head and looked at him pointedly. “Why did you not tell me you spoke with Tyrion yesterday, and that you planned to talk to her?”

“Because I didn’t want to upset you,” he replied, and scratched at his temple. “You were already fighting changing and I was not…myself.”


“I didn’t want to upset you, Sansa. You were already close to changing because she was being quite difficult over the feast—”

“You didn’t tell him what she said about Ygritte?” Tyrion blurted out.

“Pardon?” Jon said sharply and looked from Tyrion to Sansa. “What did she – that’s why you asked me about Ygritte last night?”

Sansa shot Tyrion a glare and he chuckled and held up his hands. “This is my cue to leave. See you both for breakfast.”

Sansa made to walk away from Jon, but he held her fast. “Sansa. Look at me,” he demanded. “Dany mentioned Ygritte to you? That’s what upset you?”

“Not…not the only thing,” she mumbled. “Before that she had been difficult about the feast.”

“That’s it, I’ve had enough of this,” Jon said and started to storm off.

Sansa ran after him and grabbed his arm. “Jon, what – what are you doing?”

“I’m going to tell my aunt to leave Winterfell. I’ll rouse Drogon if I have to and get that beast up to her window. She can take a flying leap—”

Jon, no.

“Why not? She’s being a miserable—”

Sansa put her hands over his mouth. “Jon.”

He grabbed her hands and kissed them. “Sansa, this is our home.”

“She is the Queen.”

“She has no real jurisdiction here. You know that as well as I do. The North takes care of itself.”

“Make nice first. Talk to her.”

“You want that? You want me to talk to her about the possible feelings she has for me?”

Her jaw clenched and she curled her hands into fists. “Yes.”


“Jon…Dragon. Let’s try this way first.”

Jon placed his hands on her cheeks and drew her face up to look at him. “I don’t want you alone with her anymore. Not if she’s going to dredge up things that are of the past.”

“That might be impossible.”

He looked at her in frustration, and his hands fell to her hands. He clenched them hard in his. “Do not let her get under your skin, Sansa. You know the truth. I am yours and you are mine. Understand?”

“Yes, I know, Dragon.”

“If she says anything else to you, you tell me. I want to know everything. All right?”

“Yes. Will you tell me about your talk?”

Jon chuckled. “You might hear it all if she makes me angry, and I’ve no doubt she will.”

Sansa moved in closer to him and tweaked his beard playfully with a small smile. “I love you, Dragon.”

He sighed and ducked his head. “You don’t play fair. You know how to take the wind out of my sails immediately.”

“Special powers of your She-Wolf?”

He laughed. “One of many.”

“It is true,” she murmured and leaned up to kiss him.

When their kiss broke, Jon pressed his forehead to hers. “Soon, my love,” he murmured. “Soon it will just be the two of us again…”

Chapter Text

When Jon and Sansa arrived for breakfast at the dining hall, Dany was all smiles. "Jon!" She greeted him enthusiastically, "Come sit by me. Daario, will you please help Sansa to her seat by you?"

Jon's jaw clenched hard and his body stiffened when Daario made his way over to them and held out his hand to Sansa. Jon glared at him and Sansa gripped Jon's arm hard as a warning before accepting Daario's hand.

Jon growled warningly when Daario proceeded to kiss Sansa's hand. Daario arched a brow at Jon, and then escorted Sansa to the table. Jon frowned. So, it was to be more of the same today with Sansa sitting as far away from him as possible, while he was subjected to sitting beside Dany, with Tyrion on her other side.

Jon strode over to sit by Dany and looked at her with narrowed eyes. "I want to speak to you after we've broken our fast."

Dany beamed at him. "Of course."

Breakfast dragged on, with Tyrion trying to be lively and make everyone laugh, and Jon trying to keep his beast in check and not lunge across the table and rip Daario's throat out. Something was amiss. Something other than Dany making it a point to stake some kind of claim on him.

Daario's attention, which would normally be on Dany, now he seemed to be focused solely on Sansa -- to the point that it was as though they were their own separate entity from the table entirely.

"They make a lovely couple," Dany said.

Jon looked at her sharply. "What did you just say?"

She blinked. "Nothing. Are you feeling all right, Jon?"

He narrowed his eyes at her while Tyrion cleared his throat and said as he patted his stomach, "Well, this was a fine meal. A bit heavy, don't you agree, my Queen?"

Dany shot him a warning look and Tyrion smiled at her, then at Jon, and then peered down the table to Daario and Sansa. "Perhaps I should escort Lady Sansa to wherever it is Lady Sansa would like to go?"

Sansa smiled and was about to speak when Daario chimed in, "Lady Sansa has agreed to show me the Godswood. You don't have to bother."

"You won't be going to the Godswood with Lady Sansa," Jon said, his voice low and menacing. The scent of Sulphur rent the air. Jon’s blood was hot; he could feel it. There was a wisp of smoke coming from his hands. Daario sat back, his eyes going slightly wide.

"I'll join you both!" Tyrion said jovially and got up from his seat. "I was Lady Sansa's husband for a short time, I believe it wouldn't be an impropriety if I served as her chaperone in this instance."

"I should like to have my lady's maid join us," Sansa said and looked at Jon. She smiled warmly at him, though her eyes held a bit of tension.

Her smile calmed his beast.


Jon sat back, refusing to budge. He and Dany could have their talk right here. He watched Sansa as she rose to her feet, and watched as Daario offered her his arm. Jon let out a growl that had Daario dropping his arm and striding out of the dining hall as fast as he could. Sansa folded her hands before her on her dress and fell into step beside Tyrion. She tossed a smile over her shoulder at Jon, and he felt a smile forming on his lips despite the rage he felt inside.

When the door was shut behind the three, Jon turned to Dany and said, "You will stop whatever it is you are trying to do to Sansa and I. You will cease this madness and leave us be. In fact, I want you gone. Go back to King's Landing and don't return."

That earned him a smack across the face. Dany glared daggers at him. "You'll not speak to me that way!"

"What is it that you want exactly?" Jon seethed. "If it's me, I do not want you. I made that clear before."

Her eyes welled up in tears, not what Jon had expected at all. "Don't you think that it makes the most sense?" she asked. "Me the Queen, and you, my King. My consort. We have the same fire and passion, Jon."

"In some ways, yes," Jon said as gently as he could muster in his state. "You are the mother of dragons and you can walk through fire—”

“So can you,” she said quickly.

“And now I’m also a dragon. I can feel it pumping through my veins right now. The only one that can tame the beast within me is Sansa. And it’s the same for hers with me. I do not wish to be King, Dany. You know that. I told you that very thing. I've no desire to leave Winterfell, and now that I have Sansa, I'll not leave her."

"Because you have to take care of her," Dany spat. "Because she's a broken little girl who can't even speak correctly."

Jon's jaw clenched and he wrapped his hands around the arm rest of his chair and gripped it hard. More smoke wafted off his hands. He'd promised Sansa not to lose his temper, to not say anything rash - though he had already and it had earned him a smack. However, going forward he could at least try...for Sansa.

"No," Jon said, his voice a rumble. "I may take care of Sansa, but she doesn’t really need me. That’s the thing about my wolf. She can survive on her own. I can’t survive without her. I need her more than she needs me. She is the love of my life. She is my heart, my soul, and my mate. She has claimed me and I have claimed her right back. It will do no good to try and tear us apart. Anyone who tries will be sorry."

"Are you threatening me?" Dany demanded.

"No. I'm stating the plain and simple truth."

She glared at him, unmoving, and then looked away and wiped at her eyes. "I want that," she whispered. "What you have. I see how you are with her and I...I can't help but wonder if we could have had that too."

Jon shook his head slowly. "No, Dany, I'm sorry. It would never have worked for us. You know that, too. Deep down, you know that. You’re not in love with me.”

Dany pushed away from the table and stood. She looked down at him coolly, though her eyes were full of tears. "If you will excuse me," she said and strode off.

Jon sat back, not sure exactly how that went. It could go either way - either Dany would accept what he said now, or she would become worse. If she became worse... well, he would have to decide what to do in that event if it happened. For now though, he felt rather...wound up.

He needed his She-Wolf.


Jon found Sansa and Tyrion in the Godswood. Daario was not present. Sansa hurried over to him as soon as he came trudging through the woods and he pulled her into him, engulfing her in his arms.

She looked at him searchingly. “Not go well?”

“I’m…not sure,” he said with a sigh. He glanced over at Tyrion whose brows went up as well as his hands.

“Say no more,” Tyrion said. “I will leave you and Lady Sansa to speak in private.”

Jon nodded his thanks and looked at his love. He kissed her hard, and started to walk her back to the large flat stone they all found themselves sitting on at some point while they sent up prayers to the Gods.

He pushed her down onto it and when she looked at him in question, he kissed her again. “I’ve need of you,” he whispered quickly and lifted her skirts.

“Jon!” she gasped.

“Ssshhh, She-Wolf. Trust me,” he rasped and then proceeded to tear her small clothes off. Before Sansa could protest, Jon parted her cunt with his fingers and laid the flat of his tongue against her nub and licked up.

“Jon,” she moaned. “Dragon…”

“Yes, that’s right,” he said as he rubbed her nub with his thumb. He looked up at her, watching her cheeks flush and her eyes fill with lust and pleasure as she watched him. “I’m your Dragon and you’re my She-Wolf,” he said. “If Daario touches you again I’m going to rip his arms off.”

He put his mouth back on her and Sansa threaded her fingers through his curls. “Jon…Dragon…Jon…” she moaned, breathing heavily.

Jon licked into her deep, fucking her with his tongue and slid his thumb over her pleasure center. When her legs stiffened, Jon knew she was reaching her peak. And then he tasted a gush of wetness from her and he growled, lapping at her roughly until she pushed his head away.

Jon stood and looked down at his woman. At her half-lidded eyes and her breasts heaving and pushing against her bodice. This is what he wanted for the rest of his life, and it was what he’d have, too. He leaned down and kissed her voraciously. “I want you to ride me,” he whispered as he undid his breeches. “And I want to hear you howl like the wolf you are. “ He laid his cloak down and then lay down on top of it, pushing his breeches and small clothes down. He held out a hand to her and she maneuvered herself over him, her legs still shaking from her orgasm.

When she moved over him, her dress billowing out and hiding just what they were doing – though anyone coming upon them would surely know – she slid her slick center back and forth over his hard cock, coating him with her juices.

“Sansa,” he growled and gripped her hips. “Fuck me.”

She placed one hand on his chest, and reached down under her skirts and grasped him. Jon groaned and bucked his hips up. “Sansa!”

She placed him at her opening and then slid down slowly. She rocked back and forth, inching him inside her deeper. She was hot, wet, and tight, and her walls pulsed and caressed him until he felt himself at her womb. His eyes went wide. “Sansa,” he rasped.

She nodded and began to move, slowly.

Their eyes met and locked and Jon felt as though they were merging, becoming one person, one spirit, one mind, one soul.

He wanted to tell her loved her and worshiped her, that he belonged to her and would until the end of his days and beyond, but the words were trapped in his throat along with the overwhelming…everything he felt for her.

His fingers dug into her; all he could do was hold on. . .

When she came, she leaned down over him and bit his neck. The feel of her teeth breaking his skin brought his own climax, and he bit down on the fleshy part of her collar bone. She whimpered and snuggled into him and Jon gathered her up in his arms and rolled them onto their sides. He pulled his cloak over both of them and held her close to him. He moaned when he felt her lick his blood and he returned the favor and lapped at hers.

Burrowed into one another, there was only them, no one else. Just the way Jon wanted it.

Chapter Text

Sansa placed her hand over her belly as she sat in the Godswood and shut her eyes to savor the quiet. She lifted her head to feel the light snow upon her heated face, and heaved a deep sigh to calm herself. After a fortnight of endless planning and dealing with a sullen and withdrawn Dany, Sansa was taking a break from feast preparation – as today was the day – to contemplate a new and significant development.

She was with child.

She figured it had to be the wolf part of her that just knew when Jon’s seed had taken root. She was certain when it had happened too: the night he’d been more dragon than human, and she’d been more wolf.

Admittedly, she was torn at the moment between being quite happy and quite worried.

What would she give birth to? Would their child change as they did? If so, in what way? Would she change again while carrying their baby? And if so, would that harm it?

She nibbled on her bottom lip as she rubbed her belly and contemplated ways to possibly avoid changing altogether. Though in truth she hadn’t felt the urge to since that night. She wasn’t sure what that meant, if it meant anything at all other than after Jon’s talk with Dany, Dany had all but avoided them completely. So on that front, there was no longer any threat.

Instead, it felt as though they were waiting in the balance of what Dany would do. Jon wanted her to consent to a marriage between him and Sansa already, and Sansa wanted him to be patient and wait. Their talk had obviously bruised Dany in some way so, she kept telling him, Dany needed time to heal.

Sansa had already decided she would tell Jon after Dany had left, hopefully they would then be celebrating their marriage and the fact that there was a child on the way. If she told him now, Sansa had no doubt Jon would again make plain to his aunt that he wanted her gone, and would push Sansa right here to the Godswood to be wed regardless of whether or not the Queen agreed to the marriage.

Sansa just wanted to win Dany over, and the only way she knew how to do that was by being as kind to her as possible. Not to mention patient. It hadn’t been easy, especially when dealing with an impatient Jon.

However, Daario had left after Dany had ended things and he’d failed to rouse Jon’s dragon in taking action against her. Jon had been at least somewhat calmer since. But only somewhat. He still lamented that he wanted everyone to leave them the hell alone. He wanted it the way it was before with just the two of them.

Sansa wondered how he’d react to having a little one encroach in on their time together. She knew it would bother him that he’d gotten her with child without having married her first, so she sincerely hoped that before Dany left she consented to their marriage.

“There’s my girl.”

Sansa opened her eyes and looked over to find Jon coming toward her. She smiled. “Hello.”

“Are you hiding from all the hustle and bustle before tonight’s feast?”

Sansa nodded. “They have their orders. I just wanted a quiet moment away from it all.”

Jon’s smile fell as he sat down beside her on the stone. He sighed and leaned over, his elbows on his thighs. “We’ll leave early. Just say when.”

“Already planning on leaving and it hasn’t even begun yet,” Sansa said with a little laugh as she leaned into him and ran her hand through his curls.

He looked over his shoulder at her and smiled. “Your speech has much improved. Did you notice?”

She nodded. “I have. Does that…bother you?” Her hesitation that time had nothing to do with finding the right words and more with wondering if she actually wanted to ask that.

He frowned. “Why would it bother me?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Because that means I am more human than wolf, I suppose.”

He sat up straight, causing Sansa to do the same. He put his hand under her chin and made her look at him, his gray eyes stormy and fierce. “Sansa, I love you. All of you. Do you not know that by now?”

“I suppose I sometimes doubt,” she murmured.

“Well, stop. You could never change again and it wouldn’t change how I feel about you.”

She smiled and leaned in to kiss him, but he caught her by the shoulders and looked at her with brows furrowed.


He leaned in and sniffed at her.

“Do I smell?” she asked with a nervous laugh. What was he doing?

“Something is different,” he murmured and began sniffing at her. “You smell different…not like anyone here…not all like me….what is it?”

Sansa took one of his hands and placed it over her belly. So much for waiting to tell him.

She looked him in the eye and waited for him to understand, hoping that he would.

His eyes went wide and he gasped. “Sansa, you’re – you’re—”

“With child,” she whispered.

“Sansa,” he whispered reverently. With one hand on her belly, he slid the other through her hair, cupping the back of her head. He pressed his forehead against hers and Sansa was startled by the tears she saw drop down his face.

She reared back, looking at him in worry. “Why are you crying?”

“Because I’m happy,” he rasped. “You’re going to have our baby. I’m going to marry you and you’re going to give me a baby that is a combination of me and you and—” He broke off, looking worried. “You can’t change, Sansa,” he now pleaded with her. “You can’t risk it—”

She nodded, laughing with a combination of relief and nerves. “I know, Dragon.”

“What are we going to have?” he asked softly. “A dragon? A wolf-pup?”

“Both, I suppose,” she said. “I am a bit worried myself, but…but we can do this. Whatever happens, we can do this.”

He moved off the stone and got down on his knees before her. He leaned in, pushing her cloak out of the way and kissing her belly through her dress. “We can weather any storm,” he murmured. “No matter what happens, we will face it together.” He laid his head on her lap as his arms wound around her. “Sansa…my She-Wolf…”

Sansa smiled down at the top of his head as she ran her fingers once again through his curls.

And then he sprang up, startling her. “We’ll marry now. Right now. Right here in the Godswood. We don’t need anyone else to witness, all we need is each other—”

“Mi’lady, I am sorry, I was sent to find you!”

Sansa peered around Jon to the Cook’s assistant. She bit her lip and looked up at Jon. “Not yet, Dragon.”

“Yes, now,” he growled. “The bloody feast can bloody wait—”

Sansa stood and placed a hand over his mouth. His eyes flashed red. Her Dragon did not like being put off and he did not like being told no. “When we leave the feast early,” she told him, “We’ll come here.”

His ire left in an instant and he smiled. “Yes.”

She leaned in and kissed him quickly. She should have known better. Before she could head back to the castle, Jon stopped her with a fierce and rather long kiss.

“I want you to rest before the feast,” he told her. “Take care of what you need to take care of and then up to our chambers you go. Do you understand me?”

Sansa rolled her eyes and began walking away. “Yes, Dragon.”

“I mean it, She-Wolf!”

Her laughter was the only answer she gave him.


A few hours later, and Sansa was turning her head to hide a yawn into it. It wasn’t that she was worried about her people seeing that so much as Jon. When she failed to rest before the feast began, he had went on at great length as he escorted her to the feast about how she needed rest since she was carrying their dragon-pup now.

“I suppose this means you will no longer be making love to me all through the night,” she’d said wistfully. “What a shame.”

That had shut him right up. He didn’t say another word until they reached the hall and he made sure her plate and tankard was full.

When the Queen made her appearance, looking rather ethereal in a gown of silver and violet, and with Tyrion by her side, the festivities really began.

Jon even danced with her, though he did stumble through a few of the steps. That was fine with her, she was just glad he’d done it.

“Lady Sansa,” Lord Glover said as he bravely approached Sansa, “Might I have the honor of a dance?”

Sansa looked at Lord Glover and smiled, though wanly. She looked over at Jon whose eyes had narrowed and faintly glowed red. She was sure though, that Lord Glover could not see it. “Yes, Lord Glover,” she said and nudged Jon. “I would love to.”

She heard Jon grumble beside her, but she allowed Lord Glover to escort her onto the dance floor nonetheless. The dance began and soon she was twirling and laughing through the dance. It reminded her of the days when her family was all together and they’d hold feasts like this. It made her at once sad and happy to remember it.

As she turned to face her next partner, she was gripped by the waist and she stiffened. Would someone be so stupid to make an advance on her with Jon there? He would rip them to shreds!

“Come with me slowly and no one gets hurt,” a menacing voice rumbled in her ear.

She was then spun around and faced with flat blue eyes. The man attached to them was handsome in an unconventional sort of way. When he smiled though, it was chilling. Almost as chilling as his blue eyes that held no emotion in them. His smile was twisted and cruel and it made his whole face appear the same.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

And then she felt something poke her in the side. She looked down. A knife.

Her only thought was of her baby and she instinctively tried to move away from him. He gripped her harder and poked her harder with the knife. She froze again.

“Why, I am the man you were to marry, my Lady,” he said. “I am Ramsay Bolton, and I’ve come to see what a wolf-bitch can do.”

Chapter Text

"Jon, do stop glaring," Dany said as she came to sit in the seat that Sansa had vacated. "Lord Glover will not do anything untoward to Sansa right here in the hall."

Jon glanced at his aunt, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from Sansa for just a brief moment. When he looked back, she was lost in the crowd and he growled softly. He didn't like it when Sansa wasn't where he could see her, especially when she was in the company of other men who looked at her with lust in their eyes as Lord Glover had done. Sod was lucky Jon hadn't ripped his throat out right there.

"I am having fun," Dany continued, her back ramrod straight as she shifted her body towards Jon, blocking him from seeing the dance floor.

Jon frowned, not exactly sure what she was getting at. "I'm glad."

She nodded and looked down at her clasped hands on her lap. "Jon, I want to apologize for my behavior."

Now that was surprising. Dany didn't often apologize, namely because she never really thought she did anything wrong.

She laughed. "You don't have to look so shocked."

"Well, I am," he said and darted a glance at the dance floor, his eyes sweeping the area for Sansa.

"When I saw what you and Sansa had, it became something I wanted. And in my mind you were the only one that could give it to me,' Dany continued, drawing his attention back to her.

"And now?"

"Now that I see you were right. You and I would never suit. There is...someone else who may though."

Jon smiled. "Tyrion?"

Dany flushed and bit her lip. "Yes."

Jon laughed, happy for his friend and his aunt - not to mention for he and Sansa. "I'm glad that you've finally seen his worth - and his love for you."

"You knew how he felt?" Dany asked in bewilderment.

"Any fool could see," Jon lied. She didn't need to know that it was only because Tyrion had told him how he felt while they'd been talking about Dany behind her back.

"Then I don't know what that makes me," Dany said with a little laugh.

Jon opened his mouth to reply when he caught the scent of fear in the air. Sansa. He shot to his feet and peered down at the floor, moving past Dany and making his way to the crowd.

He heard gasps and then a sharp cry. "Sansa!" he bellowed. His skin felt hot, his breath was starting to come out is smoke. Whatever was happening, he needed to see her and know she was safe.

He started to push people aside, uncaring who they were. He saw a flash of red at the darkened hall that led down to the doors and he saw Sansa's hair and then her back. Someone was beside her, a man, and he was holding something Jon couldn't see, but could guess what it was, to her side.

Jon let out an almighty roar that seemed to shake the very walls of the castle. In the distance he could hear Dany's dragons roar in response. He took a step towards the hall and was met with a wall of men with their swords drawn and pointed at him.

"What is the meaning of this?" Jon heard Dany shout behind him. Then she said something in Dothraki and Jon could hear the men she had around them moving into place.

Jon looked past the wall of men before him and heard the doors open along with a laugh that sent a chill down his spine. His nails grew and sharpened, and he felt his teeth shift in his mouth. It hurt, but he couldn't focus on that. Only Sansa and the babe she carried mattered now.

He glared at the men who had dared come into his castle and harm Sansa. He was going to rip them apart, one by one, and bathe in their blood.

He lunged, arm extended, intent on tearing out their throats, but he didn't jump into battle. No, he propelled over them. Shock overcame him as he landed on his feet at the mouth of the hallway. He turned to look at the distance he'd just cleared, at the people he'd just cleared and his mouth fell open.

Everyone gaped at him, the men with swords in their hands looked rather...afraid.


Jon spun and ran down the hallway to the doors, his speed having increased. He pushed the doors open and saw blood...little drops of blood on the snow leading in a path through the front of the castle.

Jon roared again and lunged again, propelling once again into the air. The distance he cleared was even greater now, and he caught sight of Rhaegal, Drogon, and Viserion in the sky above him. In the back of his mind he remembered Dany having wanted him to visit the three dragons to see what their reactions to him would be. That had never happened. But it would now.

"Sansa!" he roared as he landed hard on his feet, hunched over and bracing himself in the snow. He looked up and found her being dragged with a knife at her side and blood trailing down her dress in the snow.

The man who had hurt her looked behind him and Jon saw his eyes go wide and his jaw go partially slack. Ramsay Bolton. How the bloody hell had that bastard made it inside Winterfell with his men? The only answer Jon could come up with was that there was a traitor among the houses who had helped him sneak in, and if that was the case well...

They’d pay with their lives.

“Sansa! Change!” Jon shouted.

“I can’t!” she cried out and then whimpered when Ramsay held the knife to her throat.

“Stay back, Your Highness,” Ramsay called back. “Or I’ll slit her pretty little throat right here.”

Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion screeched up above them and Ramsay’s attention was momentarily diverted. Sansa used opportunity to twist away from him. Jon began to run at top speed towards her and when he saw Ramsay dart after Sansa, he lunged again. He managed to kick Ramsay to the ground and this time, when he let out an almighty battle cry, fire burst forth from his mouth.

Ramsay screamed as his torso was engulfed in flames. He dropped to the snow and began to roll about, dowsing the fire. Jon dropped onto him, pinning his arms to the ground. Ramsay cried out, his flesh raw and burned. Jon dug his knees in harder, willing him to feel every bit of the pain. Ramsay cried out again. Reaching out, Jon used his nails and the power coursing through him to tear across Ramsay’s throat.

His head fell away.

Jon climbed off of him, opened his mouth and let out another roar with a burst of fire coming from his mouth. Ramsay went up in flames.

Jon turned and found Sansa watching him with wide-eyes, her hair falling in her face, blood dripping from her fingers. Not caring about the blood on his hands, he took her face in them and leaned in. “Where are you hurt, Sansa? Where did he hurt you?”

She shook her head, placing her hands over his. “He – I hurt myself. I cut myself on a nail on the door to leave a trail in the snow.”

“Where?” he asked, dropping his hands from her face.

“My arm. Here,” she said and lifted her arm, showing him a gash on her forearm. “I am fine I just… needed a little bit… and didn’t have… time.”

“You need to be stitched—”

“Dragon,” she breathed. “You…breathed fire and…flew.”

They could discuss that later. He gripped her above her elbows. “Sansa, why didn’t you change? He could have killed you—”

“I couldn’t. I tried,” she said. “I think because…baby.”

Jon groaned and pulled her into his arms. “I thought he was going to kill you.”

“He wanted to. After he played with me.”


“That’s what he told me,” Sansa whispered, burying her face in his neck.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again, do you understand me?” Jon asked, his arms tightening even further around her.

“Do you let me out of your sight now?” she asked with a shaky laugh.

Jon pulled back and kissed her hard. “No.”

At that moment, Dany and Tyrion and their men came bursting out of the castle.

“Who let them in?” were the first words out of Jon’s mouth as he drew Sansa into his side and held her against him protectively and possessively.

“Lord Glover,” Dany said with her lips pursed. “He’s been detained and put in the dungeons along with Bolton’s men.”

“I’ll happily execute them all tomorrow,” Jon said without mercy. Sansa shivered beside him and he drew her in closer. “I trust you to take care of what needs to be taken care of, Dany. Right now, Sansa has an injury that needs tending.”

“I will send for the maester,” Dany said. “Or I can take her to see him…?”

“No,” Jon growled. “Sansa stays with me. I want this fucking feast over and everyone gone.”

Tyrion looked around them, at the people filing out of the castle quickly. “I don’t think,” he said, “that will be a problem.”

Chapter Text

“If you hurt her I’ll rip your throat out,” Jon growled to Maester Harold when he got out the needle and thread to stitch the gash on Sansa’s arm.

Harold looked at Jon with wide eyes and his hands started to shake. Sansa frowned at Jon and tapped Harold on the arm. “Ignore him. Focus on me.”

“Sansa,” Jon said warningly.

Sansa looked up at him, his eyes flashing red. She lifted her chin. “It’s going to hurt no matter what, Dragon. Now you’ve just scared the man going to stitch me up.”

Jon’s shoulders sagged and he looked at the Harold. “Fine. I won’t rip your throat out.”

Sansa bit her lip and smiled at Harold before standing and gripping Jon’s hand. “May I speak with you, please?”

“Sansa, what are you doing, you need to—”


Jaw clenched, he nodded. “Fine.”

Sansa led him out into the hall and attempted to slip her hand from his. He wouldn’t let go. He gripped it hard and pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to control…” He sighed, and shut his eyes tight. “I keep wanting to change again.”

Sansa pressed a kiss to his forehead. His right cheek. His left cheek. His right eye. His left eye. And then, finally his lips. It was a sweet kiss, meant to convey comfort. It worked. Sansa felt the tension leave him by degrees. He sighed, a puff of hot air against her lips. “I want to kill him again,” he whispered.

“You have Lord Glover to contend with yet. And Ramsay’s men.”

“They’ll all hang tomorrow. Except for Glover. I want his head.”

“Bloodthirsty Dragon.”

Jon’s eyes popped open and his look was fierce. “Have you ever heard the stories of what Ramsay considers sport? I have. I don’t even want to think of what he could have done to you and what he meant by ‘playing’—”

“You’re starting to change again,” she warned him. “I can hear it in your voice.”

He sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize for that. But if you do not want to change right now, then you need to calm yourself.”

“I will, She-Wolf. For you.”

“Will you do something else for me?”

“Anything,” Jon replied without pause.

“Will you please leave me and Maester Harold for a while?”

“Sansa, no, I—”

“Dragon, please. You’ve made the poor man nervous and it’s not going to help you watch me get stitched up. He hadn’t even touched me yet and you were threatening him. With you gone he’ll do it quick and be done with it. Take a walk, visit Tyrion – do what you need to do to calm down. I am safe. You are safe. The threat is contained. And dead.”

“There are always threats, Sansa.”

“But for now there isn’t. Focus on that.”

“I’ll order a bath for you if you want?” he asked, sounding resigned to being kicked out of their bedchamber.

“That sounds wonderful. Will you share it with me?”

He growled and kissed her hard. “Just try and stop me.”

Smiling, she patted the side of his face, kissed him once more, and then shooed him away.


Jon clenched his hands into fists as he marched down the hall. When he saw Sansa’s maid coming his way he barked at her to get a bath ready for Sansa. Then he apologized for scaring her and after she ran away, he marched to Dany’s solar and rapped on the door.

Tyrion, not unsurprisingly, answered. “Prince Jon!”

“Is my aunt in here?” Jon growled.

Tyrion stepped aside. “She is. Come in.” He lifted the wine glass he was holding. “A drink?”

“Yes,” Jon said shortly and stepped inside the solar.

While Tyrion poured Jon a drink, Jon marched over to where his aunt was sitting in front of the fire and said, “I want to marry Sansa, and I want to do it the day after tomorrow. I don’t want to hear any objections and I don’t want any stalling on the matter.”

Dany looked up at him in amusement, her mouth curling into a grin. “The day after tomorrow? Why not tomorrow?”

“Because I’ll not marry her on the same day I perform executions.”

“While I don’t appreciate your tone or the fact that you are asking rather than telling…” Dany trailed off while Tyrion handed Jon a goblet of wine. Not his favorite beverage of choice, but it would work for now. He downed it in one gulp.

“Well then,” Tyrion said with brows raised. “How about another?”

“Yes,” Jon croaked.

“Someday we’ll see who can drink who under the table,” Tyrion said as he grabbed the goblet from Jon and went to pour him another.

“But I understand,” Dany finished. “I pushed you to your limit, and I daresay I pushed Sansa to hers.”

“Yes,” Jon said tersely.

“Let Sansa know I’ll help her with whatever she needs for the ceremony.”

Jon nodded abruptly. “Thank you.”

Tyrion handed him the goblet and Jon downed that one too. “Goodnight to you both,” he said as he handed Tyrion the goblet.

Tyrion looked as amused as Dany did. “Good night, Jon,” he said with a bow. “I’m sure your lady needs tending.”

“Yes,” Jon muttered and headed to the door.

“Will we hear the roar of the dragon later?” Tyrion called after him.

Jon glanced over his shoulder and glared at him, causing Tyrion to dissolve into laughter. Jon heard Dany reprimanding him softly as he shut the door. He smiled to himself. Perhaps they wouldn’t hear the dragon. But they might hear the wolf.


“Be careful of your arm, sweet girl,” Jon murmured as he helped Sansa lean back against him in the steaming tub.

She hummed in delight as she was slowly submerged. Already she felt better. She placed her arm on the lip of the tub and sighed as she nestled back against Jon. “Better, Dragon?”

Jon nuzzled into her hair. “Yes. How is your arm, She-Wolf?”

“A bit sore, but it will be fine.”

Jon wrapped his arms around her middle and just breathed into her hair. “I love you so much, Sansa.”

With her good arm, Sansa rubbed his thigh under the water. “I love you too, Dragon.”

“Did I scare you at all?” he asked softly. “When I changed?”

“It was a sight,” she said slowly. “You flew. And breathed fire!”

Jon groaned. “It surprised me. Scared me a little, too.”

“I understand. It scared me the first few times I changed as well. I didn’t understand and I had no one to tell me what was happening to me…”

Jon’s arms tightened around her. “I wish I had been there. I hate that you were alone during that. I’ve been lucky; I’ve had you to help me through it.”

“Your instincts kick in. The beast knows what to do to protect yourself even if you don’t.”

Jon moved his arms from around her and rubbed her still-flat belly. “And now we know that when you are with child you don’t change.”

“The timing could have been better,” Sansa sighed. “I would have liked to rip his throat out too.”

Jon laughed. “Bloodthirsty She-Wolf.”

She smiled, agreeing with that sentiment completely.

“I went to speak with Dany while Harold stitched you up,” Jon said, kissing her shoulder.


“We are to marry the day after tomorrow.”

Sansa froze, her mouth falling open. She moved her body to the side so she could look at Jon. “She agreed?”

He smiled broadly. “Yes. In fact, she has offered her services should you need help with preparations.”

Sansa melted against him. “Dragon,” she breathed. “You’ll be my husband.”

“I already feel as though I am,” he said softly, lifting his hand out of the water and running his thumb along her bottom lip. “In my heart we’re already wed, Sansa.”

She smiled, and then frowned. “Why the day after tomorrow?”

He laughed softly, “Dany asked the same thing. Because I won’t marry you on a day I perform an execution. I don’t want our marriage to be marred by such a thing.”

She nodded, running her fingertips along his collarbone. “Dragon, what made Dany change her mind?”

Jon grinned. “It seems that she and Tyrion are making a go of it.”

Sansa brightened into a wide smile. “Truly?”

Her joy was contagious and Jon smiled back. “Yes, truly.”

“Oh, I am so happy for him. For her too.” She started to move off of Jon, but he was having none of it. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked as he pulled her back against him.

“I need to see what I have to wear for our wedding. And what you have as well.”

“No,” he said firmly. “We have plenty of time for that later. Sit here with me a while. You need to rest.”

“I truly am all right, Jon. I was scared, yes, but I knew he didn’t have a chance of escaping Winterfell with me. Not with you and Dany’s army behind you.”

“Just the same. I want to hold you, She-Wolf. We’ve been through much since Dany arrived and I want to bask in the feeling of knowing that we can move forward now.”

“And that they will leave soon?” she teased.

He groaned. “Gods. Yes!”

They melted into each other for a while after that, constantly touching, kissing, and whispering to each other of plans for their future, of what they thought their babe would be like, and even discussed names.

When the water began to cool, Jon helped Sansa out of the tub and took his time drying her off and she did the same for him. She looked down at his hardened member as they stood before the fire and bit her lip.

“Are you blushing, sweet girl?” Jon asked huskily.

She shook her head as she reached out and used her trail her fingers along his cock. Jon groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder. “Sansa,” he breathed.

“Does Dragon want his She-Wolf?” she asked.

He lifted his head, his expression heated. “I always want you.”

Instead of kissing him as he thought she would, Sansa instead dropped to her knees and took put her mouth on him. His eyes went wide with shock. She had never done this for him before! “Sansa,” he gasped. “You don’t have to – oh, Gods, sweet girl, just like that…”

What she lacked in technique, she made up for in enthusiasm. Jon had to admit though, that her tentative licks and sucks, and her hands on his cock exploring him was more than enough. He tangled his fingers in her hair, knowing she would be cross with him later for ruining the braid her maid had already done for her.

When she swirled her tongue around the head of his cock, Jon couldn’t stand it anymore. He moved away from her and pulled her up with her good arm.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I want to come inside you,” he told her as he pulled her to the bed. “And now I want a taste too.”

Sansa moved around him and climbed up on the bed, reminding him a bit a playful wolf pup. She winced though when she realized that doing that hurt her arm. He pointed at her. “She-Wolf, you have to be careful of your injuries.”

She rolled her eyes and held out her arms to him as she lay back on the bed. “Come here, Dragon.”

He smirked as he made his way to the foot of the bed. She arched a brow at him and then smiled a bit shyly when he crawled up onto the bed from the foot of it. She spread her legs for him and Jon slid right in between them on his belly. He licked at her, parting her nether lips with his fingers, and then rolled her taste around in his mouth.

“Dragon?” she asked, peering down at him, braced up on the elbow of her good arm.

“You taste different,” he murmured.


“No, sweetheart, no. Just different.” He licked at her again. “I look forward to tasting you every time I put a babe in you.”

“Naughty Dragon.”

He smiled and then set about making her come. He took his time with it, bringing her close and then resting his head on her thigh until she calmed. Finally, though, she’d had enough.

“Dragon! Make me come!” she shouted at him.

He laughed, wondering if Tyrion and Dany heard that, and then dove in and did as she bid. He would always do as she bid.

With her essence on his tongue, and Sansa a boneless heap on the bed, Jon moved his mouth off of her and wiped it on a nearby fur. He then crawled over her and gently placed the hand of her injured arm on his shoulder. She curled her fingers around it, digging in just slightly while Jon moved his cock against her folds. He looked down at her. “Are you sure? If you’re too sore—”

“Fuck me, Dragon,” she ordered.

Jon thrust up inside her in one stroke. “Bossy, She-Wolf,” he grunted.

“Get…used to it!” She moaned, her back arching.

Jon leaned down, bracing his arms on either side of her shoulders as he moved inside her. “You know I’d do anything you asked me to,” he rumbled.

“Same,” she whispered and threaded her fingers through his hair. She drew him down to kiss her and Jon licked inside her mouth before capturing her lips in a hungry kiss.

“Gods, Sansa,” he grunted.

She held him close, their eyes locked on each other as Jon thrust steadily inside her. When her second climax came, she howled, her back arched, and her nails dug into his shoulder. The other hand gripped his hair at the back of his head. Jon didn’t care. He loved it. Loved watching and feeling her lose control.

He thrust hard once, twice, three times, and then held himself inside her came with a roar.

He fell against her, moaning at the feel of her skin against his. “Mine,” he whispered into her neck. “My Sansa. My She-Wolf. My proper lady.”

Sansa ran her fingers through his hair and then down his back. “My Dragon.”

Jon moved them to their sides, and gathered her up in his arms. He pulled the furs over them and the pair fell asleep just like that: limbs entwined and as close as two people could get in repose.

Chapter Text

The executions were set for the morning. All of them except for Lord Glover were to be hanged. Lord Glover was to lose his head on the chopping block.

Sansa watched Jon closely from their bed as he dressed. He looked grim, sad even, and yet determined. She rose, slipped her robe on, and came up behind him. She leaned into him, resting her head between his shoulder blades. She felt the stiffness leave his body and he sighed. “Sansa.”

She straightened and turned him to face her. Lightly, she scraped her nails through his beard, earning a smile from him. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said. “You could have someone else carry it out.”

He shook his head. “I could, but I’m not going to do it.”

“Why not? You don’t want to do it, Jon. That is obvious.”

“I’m tired of death,” he sighed. “I’m tired of killing. I’m tired of doing the killing. But this… I can’t let this go. They need to be made an example of, and I need to be the one to make the example or everyone will think I’ve gone soft. I can’t let that happen. Remember Father, your Father, he said that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. Winterfell must remain strong and be a beacon to all the houses in the North of strength and honor. I would lay down my life for you, Sansa, and I want to ensure they all know to do the same.”

“I wish you would not talk of dying for me, Jon.”

“But I would,” he said simply.

“No more talk of death,” she murmured and then kissed him softly. “I will join you out there.”

“No, Sansa—”

“Do you think I cannot handle it? Remember who ripped out the entrails of animals and humans to survive,” she said as she went to the door to send for her maid.

“Bloody-thirsty She-Wolf,” Jon said with a grin.

“Fire-breathing Dragon,” she returned with a smirk.

A short while later, Jon and Sansa strolled into the dining hall hand-in-hand and found themselves alone. Sansa’s eyes went wide as she looked up at Jon. “Do you think…?”

“That Dany and Tyrion are enjoying a lie-in?” he asked with a grin. “I do. Good for them, and particularly good for us.”

“Yes, because this means Dany has moved on,” Sansa said as Jon led her to the table.

“Not only that, but this means we have some peace and quiet before they are roused from bed. And soon,” he said as he sat down beside her, “They’ll be heading South and we’ll be alone again.”

Sansa placed a hand over her belly. “For a little while anyway.”

Jon smiled broadly and leaned in to kiss her. “Yes, for a little while anyway.”

“Good morning!”

Jon groaned at the sound of Dany’s chipper voice behind them. “I spoke too soon,” he sighed. “Good morning, Dany,” he said to his aunt as he and Sansa stood to welcome her. “Sleep well?”

“I did, thank you,” she said as she took her seat at the head of the table. Jon and Sansa then sat as well. Dany was positively glowing and Sansa couldn’t help but smile despite how contentious the Queen had made things for her and Jon.

Dany turned her focus on Sansa. “Sansa, I offer my services to you today. I have a dress I believe we can alter your wedding ceremony tomorrow.”

Sansa smiled. “That sounds lovely, Your Highness. Thank you.”

“No formalities here, Sansa. We’re to be family tomorrow after all.”

Just then, Tyrion came strolling in and with a knowing smile at Dany, took the seat beside her. He completely ignored Jon and Sansa, his attention solely on Dany.

Jon looked over at Sansa with arched brows and Sansa ducked her head so she wouldn’t laugh.

“Good morning, Tyrion,” Jon said. “Sleep well?”

Tyrion looked over at Jon and smiled. “I did. And you?”

“Quite well, thank you.”

“Are you two quite done?” Dany asked sternly.

Jon snickered as he looked over at Sansa who kicked him under the table, which just made him laugh out loud. Thankfully, the food arrived them and they were all distracted by filling their bellies.


After they had finished breaking their fast it was time for the executions. Sansa slipped her arm through Jon as they made their way outside. The sky was gray and it was snowing lightly. Dany, not accustomed to the North, shivered in her furs.

When it was time to begin, Sansa squeezed Jon’s hand in hers and he looked at her, nodded, and proceeded, allowing the men with nooses about their neck to speak their last words.

He wore a look of grim determination when he used his sword to cut the ropes and release the plank of wood and barrels they stood on. He looked at them, watched them die without expression and Sansa alternated between watching him and watching them.

It was gruesome and morbid to watch, but it was something Father would have done. Something Robb would have done as well.

When it was done, Jon made his way over to Sansa. He stopped before her and just looked down at her. She nodded, understanding, and slid her arm through his. They strode off together back to the castle to wait for Lord Glover's turn.


Executing Lord Glover was easier. Mainly because of the smirk he wore as he was brought out. Not to mention the way he eyed Sansa coupled with calling her a “wolf-bitch in heat”. Jon was full of bloodlust by the time he swung the sword to take his head. He glared at the head lying in the snow and fought the urge to spit on it.

This time when Jon and Sansa returned to the castle, Sansa called for a bath to be readied and when it was, she set about undressing Jon and preparing him for a soak.

“I want you in there with me,” he whispered, his voice full of need.

“Of course,” she murmured and undressed as well.

After a long soak in which they traded stories about King’s Landing and The Wall, he allowed Sansa to dry him off and dress him again. He helped her dress as well.

“It’s been a while since I’ve dressed you,” he said with a smile in his voice. “I’m rather used to undressing you.”

Sansa laughed softly. “Yes, well, duty calls for both of us doesn’t it?”

“I’d much rather spend the day in bed.”

“I need to plan our wedding. You do want to wed tomorrow, don’t you?”

Jon smiled and nodded eagerly. “More than anything.”

Sansa leaned in and kissed him. “I’ll see you tonight,” she murmured, giggling at his whine, and left the room to plan their wedding day.


“Sansa,” Dany began while Sansa’s maid helped her back into her dress behind a screen. Sansa had changed into the dress Dany had spoken off (cream trimmed in black). Sansa thought it was absolutely gorgeous, the material soft to the touch and heavy enough to keep her warm in the Godswood, though that wasn’t really much of a concern. Plus, it included Targaryen colors. The only adjustment she really wanted to make was to include two wolves in red at the bodice.

It was a quick adjustment and wouldn’t take long to do.

“Yes?” Sansa prompted when Dany took a while to answer her.

“I want to apologize for how difficult I made things when I first arrived in Winterfell.”

Sansa had not been expecting an apology. Not directly anyway. Jon had told her that Dany had already apologized to him, but Sansa hadn’t expected Dany to extend one to her as well.

“You are forgiven,” Sansa said as she stepped out from behind the screen. “I know you were worried about my ability to be a proper wife and consort to Jon—”

“You know it was not that, Sansa,” Dany said softy.

Sansa pursed her lips together and nodded. “I know.”

“I thank you for trying to help me save face, but you’ve known all along, Sansa.”

Sansa nodded again.

“But you must also know that I was never truly in love with him. I just saw the two of you together and how devoted you were to each other and I wanted that for myself. I put those things on Jon…”

“I know, Dany,” Sansa said and reached out her hand.

Dany took it gratefully and smiled. “But now with Tyrion, I have exactly what I want and so much more because he has been everything to me.”

Sansa smiled broadly at her. “I’m glad.”

And then Dany further surprised Sansa by hugging her. “Now,” Dany said. “Let’s discuss cloaks, shall we?”

Chapter Text

Jon wasn't interested in being trussed up like, well, the Prince that he was. He didn't care for all the pomp and circumstance that surrounded a wedding. All he wanted to do was say the words, drape the cloaks, and head to bed with his wife.

But, of course, such things were somehow difficult for Jon to come by. He longed for simple. He longed to be alone with Sansa. Instead, he got hustle and bustle.

Daenerys insisted on speaking with him before the wedding. A teary-eyed meeting followed. He'd never taken Dany for being very sentimental, but apparently the wedding of her only living relative did that to her. When he asked after Sansa, she assured him that she was on her way to see his soon-to-be-wife.

"I know I don't have to pass on any advice on what to do as a husband, Jon," Dany told him. "I know how much you love her and have done right by her already. I do have one caveat if you will though..."

Jon narrowed his eyes at her. "And that would be?"

"That any heir produced would be next in line for the Iron Throne."

"Are you saying that you want Sansa and I to give up our child to you?" he growled, his eyes glowing red. Sulfur rent the air.

"Not give up your child, just...prepare him."

"Prepare him to sit on a throne that's brought nothing but misery to those who have sat on it?"

"I'm not miserable," Dany pointed out. "I mean, there was that bout not too long ago, but that's cleared up now and--"

"I'm not making any decisions without my wife."

Dany grinned. "She's not your wife yet."

"Close enough. Look, Dany, I don't think you should give up all notion that you can't bear children. Sometimes things happen that we least expect." He smiled, thinking of finding Sansa half-feral in the woods. "And they surprise us with what they bring."

"Are you saying that Tyrion is going to bring me a baby?"

Jon shrugged. "I wouldn't rule it out."

"We'll discuss this at a later time," she said primly.

"Much later. Through letters."

Dany laughed. "Oh, Jon, you are eager to be alone with Sansa aren't you?"

Jon sighed. "You have no idea."


"You are a vision, my Lady," Tyrion said with a soft, happy smile.

Sansa, who had just descended the stairs after dressing in her wedding gown, smiled at him. The direwolves on the dress was a perfect addition, and she knew Jon would appreciate it. "Thank you."

Dany, right behind Sansa, was beaming. "Are you ready, Sansa?"

Sansa nodded. "Is Jon?"

Dany and Tyrion laughed. "He was ready yesterday," Tyrion said. "Come. Place your hand upon my shoulder so that I may give you away."

Sansa did as asked, and the three made their way to the Godswood.



If anyone asked, Jon couldn't remember saying the words. He couldn't even remember the draping of the cloaks. All he could remember was Sansa. Sansa and how beautiful she was. Sansa and how she was now his. His wife. His consort. His everything. It was done. Official. And it was only her he saw. Only her he was aware of.

When he took her in his arms at the end, he never wanted to let go, and if he could have had his way, he would have pulled her right down to the Earth and made love to her there.

Or, because she was now with child, dragged her back to their bedchamber.

But then, Dany and Tyrion were clapping and pulling them apart to hug and shake hands and lead them back to the castle for a feast.

Jon knew the kind of feast he wanted, and it wasn't the one they were thinking of.

Yet, he followed, grumbling the entire way while Sansa laughed and hung on his arm.


He was married, his belly was full, he was randier than ever for Sansa, and his wife was currently partaking in a dance with Tyrion.

"Shall I round up the servants and have a traditional bedding ceremony?" Dany asked with a gleam in her eyes.

Jon narrowed his eyes at her. "No one touches my wife but me."

Dany laughed. "I'm teasing, Jon. You think I would let those poor servants lose their heads because they dared to touch Sansa?"

Jon pushed away from the table and dropped his napkin upon it. "If you'll excuse me, I would like to now collect my wife and begin our evening."

"Will I hear the howl of a wolf and the roar of a dragon later?"

Jon grinned. "Probably."

He marched down to the dance floor and tapped a laughing Sansa on her shoulder. She whirled around and when she saw him, threw her arms around him. "Dragon!"

His arms came readily around her and he nipped at her ear. "I've need of my wife," he growled.

"I am yours, my Prince," she cooed.

Jon scooped her up in his arms and she laughed as she held onto his neck. She waved to Dany and Tyrion as Jon carried her from the Great Hall.

He didn't let her down until they were in their bedchamber. His lips were on hers even before her feet touched the stone floor. "You're my wife," he rasped against her lips. "My wife, Sansa. Finally."

"I am," she giggled and kissed him.

He spun her around and started tugging at the laces of her dress. "As much as I love this dress on you, I want it off now, wife."

"Wife? Not She-Wolf?"

He buried his face in the back of her neck as he pulled the back of her dress apart. "Wife. She-Wolf. Sweet girl. I'll have many names for you." He guided her to the door and put her hands on it. Then he slipped his own inside her bodice and pulled her dress completely to the sides. He began to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses down her back. "Off, Wife, I want this off," he ground out and tugged at her skirts.

Sansa hurriedly complied with his request. She wanted him so badly she could feel her cunt dripping. Now naked, her dress a pile on the floor, Jon all but tore his own clothing off. When he was naked, his cock hard and dripping, he pushed her against the door and hooked one leg up over his hip. He bent at the knees, brushing against her folds, and then shoved himself inside her in one long stroke.

Sansa cried out and then whimpered, tangling her fingers in his hair as he set a brutal pace. His skin felt hot - the dragon was driving him now.

Despite the fact that she could not change in her condition, Sansa still had the strength and stamina of a wolf. She could still feel it inside her, and so she knew that she could withstand this pounding from Jon. In fact, she was thoroughly enjoying it. So much so that her peak was swift in its arrival and had her howling in ecstasy.

With one last shove inside her, Jon held himself there and roared as he came. All Sansa could do was hold on, and she did. A minute later, he lifted her up and carried her to the bed. He put her down on top and she scooted back onto it. He climbed over her and pressed himself against her, settling between her thighs. "Did I hurt you?" he murmured as he ran a hand through her hair, moving some off her face.

"No, Husband. I can take it."

"And the babe?"

She smiled. "The babe is half you and half me. What do you think?"

He grinned and kissed her hard. "Is it odd that I find my desire for you heightened even more now that you're my wife?"

"It is our wedding night, Jon. You're supposed to feel that way."

He rubbed himself against her. He was hard already. Her eyes went wide and he grinned lecherously.

"Are you ready for me, She-Wolf?" he rumbled.

"I am," she gasped and then clutched at his shoulders as he slid back inside her.

"I love you so much," he breathed as he moved steadily inside her. "My She-Wolf. My wife. My sweet girl..."

"My husband," she whispered. "My Dragon."

"Yes," he grunted. "Yours. Fuck! You just tightened around me..." He groaned. "I hope you know that you're going to be up." He pulled back and then thrust forward, hard. "All." He pulled back and then thrust forward again, hard. "Night."

Sansa squealed with the next hard thrust and peaked again. Jon held himself inside her, his eyes rolling up as the walls of her cunt pulsed around him. The muscles in his arms tensed and he pushed himself above her and began another brutal pace inside her as Sansa wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Jon!" she gasped. "I'm coming again!"

"Do it," he growled. "Come, Wife!"

Her back arched and she sobbed as another peak crashed over her. She was so sensitive now. "Jon," she gasped.

He roared again, holding himself deep inside her, every muscle tensed as he let go. Then, he collapsed against her, burying his face in her neck and panting. "I love you. Gods, I love you."

Sansa stroked her hand down his sweat slickened back. "I love you too," she whispered. "Very much."

"Let me clean you," he murmured and began dropping kisses down her body. Sansa knew exactly where he was headed and she could not wait.

She noticed, with a peak down at him, that he was hard again too. Oh my, she thought. All night indeed!

Chapter Text

Jon stood in the woods, the snow falling down lightly around him. It was cold, frigid really – and he only knew that because he was told that when he left through the castle gates with Ghost and Sansa running ahead of him.

He didn’t feel the cold much. Not when he connected with his dragon side, such as he had done now. He wasn’t even angry, either. In fact, he was quite content to watch Ghost and Sansa frolic in the snow.

Sansa had actually feared that when she didn’t change after little Ned was born just two moons ago, she had lost the ability. She felt the urge to change, having admitted to Jon that she actually missed changing after going so long without it. But then, that night, just as the moon had gone full, she’d ran from the dining hall and it had happened.

Ghost was happy to have his playmate back.

“Ghost,” Jon said now, warningly, “Gentle with her.”

Sansa looked at him in her wolf-form, and he chuckled. He swore she was giving him a look. Some things though, like ensuring Sansa’s protection and happiness at all times, never changed. And never would change.

When they began to run off, Jon ran after them, his speed as the dragon making him faster. Plus, there was always the fact that he could vault himself up over the trees if he had to. Thankfully, he didn’t often need to. Though now with Sansa changing, he wondered if he would have to.

Ned, their son, was asleep in his nursery, with the nurse watching over him just in case.

Sansa was hardly ever without Ned, and Jon was with them both when he wasn’t tending to his duties. Sansa had needed this release, he had been feeling it building inside her for quite a while. He didn’t begrudge her this, nor would he ever. And he knew that she would fight a change for the good of Ned if need be. She was a wonderful mother, just as he’d always known she would be. He liked to think he was a good father too – at least Sansa told him so.

Sansa howled then, pulling him from his thoughts, and he ran harder after her and Ghost. It was going to be a long night, but he didn’t mind. Not if it meant Sansa was happy.


Jon woke up late and, as he always did when he woke up, he reached for Sansa. Her side of the bed was cold and empty though. Jon’s eyes snapped open and he frowned.

Ned. She was probably with Ned. He must have been worn out as well since he didn’t even hear her getting up to tend to him. Usually, that was what woke him. However, they’d gotten back near dawn, and she had fallen into a deep slumber as soon as the change back had been complete. It had been many moons since she’d been able to change, and he supposed it had taken a lot out of her. It did even when she was used to it.

Usually, she brought Ned to bed with them when their little one woke so they could spend the morning together as a family before duty split them in different directions. Not that Jon let it split them apart for long though. He couldn’t go very long during the day without seeing his wife and his son. They came together every afternoon for luncheon, in which Jon would tell Sansa about what was going on to get her feedback on it.

His wife was far more politically minded than he was, and would probably ever be. Though he was learning things – it was just that what he wanted to do and what he should do were not often in agreement. Sansa reminded him that he could not always do what he wanted to do, and remind him of the best course of action. It was why he consulted her as he did. Sometimes he would end up undoing something he did in the morning in the afternoon after speaking with Sansa. He was getting better at anticipating what she might say, but sometimes he fell off the mark.

Jon lay back, hoping she would return soon with Ned. He was late already to tend to what needed tending to, what did a few more minutes matter? Besides, he wanted to see how she was feeling after last night.

His mind drifted back to those days when a fierce coupling would take place after her change. Yet that had not happened last night. In fact, a fierce coupling hadn’t happened in a while since she’d given birth to Ned. Jon didn’t want to push and ask when she’d receive word that it was safe to proceed, but he…well, he missed making love to Sansa. He missed it something fierce. He found religion in their couplings. Sansa was his Goddess, the only thing beside his son he felt he had faith in in this harsh world.

The door burst open then and in his wife came with their son. Jon sat up, grinning, and reached out for Ned. Ned cooed at him happily and Jon laughed as he kissed his son’s forehead. “Good morning, my son,” he said and then looked up at Sansa with unmistakable reverence. “Good morning, my wife.”

Sansa bent down and kissed him softly. “Good morning, my husband. How does Dragon feel today?”

"Your dragon feels well-rested," he said. And in desperate need of you, he thought. "How is my She-Wolf?"

She smiled as she sat down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder and smiling at their son. So far, Ned showed no signs of favoring the wolf or the dragon. He was just a normal, healthy baby boy. Though Sansa did insist that he did run rather warm. Jon thought maybe she was looking for something because he never felt it. And, as it turned out, Ned was no one's heir but Jon's. Dany was just a few moons away from giving birth to her own child with Tyrion, her husband.

"I am well," she said on a hum.

Jon peered down at her curiously. That tone...he knew that tone. It was her teasing tone. Her "I know something you don't" tone. "Out with it," he said.

She giggled and Jon smiled. Sansa happy made him happy. She moved her head to look up at him. "Well, Dragon, after tending to our son this morning, I visited the Maester."

Gods. "Yes?" he prompted urgently, causing Sansa to giggle again.

"I am able to resume all my wifely duties."

"Sansa," he said achingly. He looked down at his son and felt guilt that what he wanted to do was put Ned in the care of the nurse and bed Sansa now.

"Now now, husband, surely you can wait until later?" she teased. "The council is waiting for you downstairs, and have been waiting for quite a while. You must get ready."

"Sansa," he whined.

She tutted him with her tongue and stood, scooping Ned up into her arms. "I have my duties as well." She bent down and kissed him quickly on the mouth.

Jon was having none of that quick-kiss business. He put his hand at the back of her head and drew her down to him again. He kissed her fiercely, passionately, and when he had left them both sufficiently breathless and in need, he stopped.

Her eyes blazed with want as she looked down at him. And then she was off with a huff. Jon grinned. It was nice to know she was as desperate as he was now, and just as frustrated because she could do nothing about it.

Nothing they could do about it...

Well, nothing they could do about it now...but later...and hopefully before tonight...

With a smile, Jon got up and began to prepare for the day, his mind churning with a plan...


If Jon thought he was the only one in agony over not being able to resume their nightly escapades, he was wrong. Sansa had wanted nothing more than to mount him that morning, but she'd had their son to tend to, and they both had their duties.

He'd made it worse by planting that kiss on her, too. She took some comfort in knowing that kiss had gotten his blood up too.

It was hours before tonight. Just a few before luncheon. She wondered if perhaps there was something that could be done then...?

Just then her maid came running up to her, looking frantic. "Your Highness! Your Highness!"

"What is it? What's wrong?" Sansa demanded. "Has something happened?"

"His Highness has been hurt!"

"What do you mean hurt? How?"

Her maid fought to catch her breath, and Sansa fought not to scream at her to hurry up and tell her. "He and some builders were trying to move some debris from one of the spare rooms near the turrets. Some wood and stone fell on him. One of the men told me I should find you!"

Sansa nodded and passed Ned over to her. "Please find the nurse, he'll need a nap soon. I'll see to my husband now."

Sansa quickly made her way down the hall, and when she was certain she was out of sight of her maid, she ran. She ran down another hall and then practically flew up the stairs. Jon had been talking about the restoration of some of the rooms at the top of the castle that had long been neglected. She wondered if they'd had a light load today and if so, why had he decided to do that instead of coming to find her?

When Sansa pushed the door open to the room, she fully expected to find him severely injured and in the middle of rubble. She also expected to find the builders around him, hovering like ninnies over His Royal Highness.

Instead, she found the room looking very much like a bedchamber. Tapestries hung from the walls with intricate designs of the forest. Heavy drapes covered the windows. A thick rug was on the stone floor. There were candles lit on small assorted tables - it even had a vanity - and then there was the bed.

A big canopy bed with thick furs and silky scarves hanging from the bedposts.

Her husband was sitting on the bed, grinning at her. "Surprise," he said.

Sansa stepped fully inside and turned in a circle, gazing at the amazing change the room had undergone. "Jon," she breathed. "How? When?"

"It was completely finished today, but I've been working on having it done for weeks now," he said as he stood and came over to her. "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful!" she said. "Is it to be room for our guests?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. He placed his hands on her hips and drew her close. "It is to be our room. A place we can come when we need to escape in the middle of the day. Like now."

She swatted him on the arm and he looked at her in alarm. "You scared me, Dragon! I thought you were hurt!"

Jon laughed, earning another swat and he leaned in and kissed her soundly. "I'm sorry, She-Wolf, but I needed a way to get you alone. After you teased me this morning, I had to get you back."

"You teased me enough with that kiss."

He grinned. "I teased us both with that kiss." Now he started to walk her back to the bed. "Ned is with the nurse?"

"Yes," she said breathlessly.

"Then I'm going to have you now, Sansa."

She smiled. "As you wish, Jon."

He growled and spun her around, going to work on the buttons and laces that made up the back of her dress. She wondered when she would hear - rrrriiiiiiiiiiip! Yes, of course. There it was.

She laughed as he pushed the dress forward down her shoulders and then spun her around her around to yank it down completely. She stepped out of it, using Jon's shoulders for balance. Her shift, her small clothes - they all came next. He gently pushed her to the bed and slipped off her shoes followed by her hose.

Then he stood back and just looked at her. His eyes glowed a bit red, and he was breathing heavy. His entire being vibrated with lust and need. Sansa, not content to just sit there vaulted up and began tearing his clothing off. Soon, both of them were growling and fighting for dominance.

Jon claimed it by hefting her up in his arms and practically tossing her on the bed. Completely naked now, he climbed onto it, spread her legs, and dove in, his mouth on her cunt. Sansa howled as she threaded her hands through his hair and tugged lightly.

He was in the realm of the Gods. That was the only way to describe what it was like tasting Sansa again after so long. And their little play for dominance had made her gloriously wet. Jon feasted on her like a man starved. He licked, sucked, and fucked her cunt with his tongue until she howled again for him, wetting his face with her juices.

He got up on his knees, fisting his cock in his hand and looked her over. He felt more dragon than man, but the man in him thought - gorgeous, beautiful, wife, Sansa. The dragon and man in him thought: Mine.

He should have known that Sansa would not just let him have his way for long. Instead, she tackled him back onto the bed and mounted him, a feral smile adorning her pink lips.

"Ride me," he growled. "Fuck me."

She teased him instead, coating his cock with her juices as she moved her cunt back and forth along his length.

"Sansa," he said warningly and gripped her hips.

She reached down and took him in hand. He moaned. And then she placed him at her opening and grinned again.

Unable to wait, Jon thrust up inside her and they both gasped. She clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging in while his fingers dug into her waist.

"Sansa," he breathed. "Hurt you?"

She shook her head and then started to move, achingly slow. Jon's head dug back into the bed, his eyes shutting tight. He was trying to fight his dragon nature by pounding into her. He wasn't sure how she wasn't riding him hard into oblivion, but one look at her face and he could tell she was struggling.

He lifted his hips and began pounding into her, just as he wanted. He moved fast and hard and then when he saw she was about to peak, he sat up and then pushed her back down on the bed.

She growled at him, her eyes flashing with rebuke. He grinned down at her. That's what she got for teasing him.

He pushed himself back inside her and leaned down to kiss her, mouths mashing, teeth clashing, tongues tangling. Sweat beaded on them both.

"Fuck. Me. Dragon," she snarled.

Control gone again, Jon did as she asked, pounding into her until she was howling and screaming. He roared, his peak coming swift. He held himself deep inside her until he was completely spent and then he collapsed against her, burying his face in her neck. "Mine," he murmured. "My She-Wolf. My wife. My Sansa."

"Yours," she murmured back, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck and causing him to shiver. "I am yours, Dragon. Just as you are mine."

He smiled against her slick skin and then proceeded to suck a bloom onto her neck. He was just about done when they both froze at the sound a baby-like howl reverberating through the castle walls.