So the finale was a bit of a let down for us Jonsa shippers. I'm sure there will be plenty of fics popping up over the course of the next week or two to fill that particular void and this is my own entry. If there is a good enough response, I'll write up a second chapter to this. I have a couple of ideas but if this doesn't get any tractions I won't push it on y'all, hahah. Anyway, I hope y'all like this! As always, please let me know what y'all think!

The ax hung there for a tense second, wavering ever so slightly before the weight of the head brought it down with a satisfying thunk. The split wood fell to the side of the stump and Jon placed the ax aside as he grabbed the pieces and placed them on the stack. Just because the Night King had been defeated didn't make the lands North of the Wall any warmer and Jon had found himself a few hands short for the task of providing fuel for tonight's fires.

As Lord Commander, Jon didn't have to chop wood himself, he could've simply assigned another Brother of the Night's Watch or had Tormund find a volunteer from the Free Folk, but he found that he didn't mind the task. Working up a sweat in the cold was pleasant and the rote movement allowed him to think. It had taken him a long time to get to the point where he was okay being alone with his own thoughts. They too often drudged up the memory of sitting in the dungeon, so close to where his father… Where the most honorable man to have ever lived and who had raised Jon as his own son had spent his last days. And that only brought on the memory of why he had been in the dungeon in the first place. What he had done to the woman he had sworn to serve, whom he had even loved, after a fashion. Then there were the tearful goodbyes on the dock afterward, Arya telling him she was setting sail to the West, to discover the unknown, Bran speaking cryptically, and Sansa… Well, that was still a little too much for him to think about.

It was only after a year of hard work, rebuilding the Night's Watch, Castle Black, and settling the lands North of the Wall with the Free Folk that he found his nights increasingly more free of the demons that were tormenting him ever since he had landed on the beach at Dragonstone all that time ago. It had been a long journey, both physically and emotionally, but Jon was feeling like a new man, the man he was always meant to be.

It was when he took up the ax once again and brought it over his head that he heard the heavy footfalls and the heavier breathing of someone racing towards him. There were no more wights, and certainly no more white walkers, but Jon still found himself gripping the handle of the ax tighter. It took more effort than he was willing to admit to not turn and throw it directly at the approaching man and, instead, take a deep breath and turn calmly.

He was met by a huffing ranger, one of the new recruits almost certainly on his first trip beyond the wall.

"Lord Commander!" he said with considerable effort. The lad must've run all the way here. "...News! From Castle… Black!"

"Calm down, take a breath."

The ranger nearly doubled over with the tacit permission, swallowing air as if it were trying to escape him. Jon found himself fighting back the urge to laugh, there was certainly nothing worth all this effort, Bran had the full support of the six kingdoms and the North was entirely behind Sansa. But maybe something had happened in Winterfell? An assassin? Maybe Greyworm had changed his mind and turned his armada back toward the last real enemy his queen had recognized. Suddenly, Jon found that he very much wanted this ranger to catch his breath and deliver his message.

"Alright, you've got it, what's the message?"

"The Queen…" said the ranger, still catching his breath. Queen. Jon could feel his mind fuzzing over, thinking of all the terrors that might follow that word. "The Queen… Has requested an audience…"

And just like that, Jon's mind exploded into the brightness of relief. The demons receded against a wave of joy and he could no longer help himself from laughing. "An audience! And you ran all the way out here to tell me that? When is she coming?"

"Two days… Two days, ser."

"Two days! You could've sent Maester Wallace!" Maester Wallace was already well known for taking his time to get to the great hall of Castle Black for the morning meal.

"Well, ser, I didn't drive my horse too hard on the way out here, but when I got to camp the wild-..." the ranger caught himself, "The man insisted you'd have me flogged if I didn't run as fast as I could to tell you this news. 'Important news Jon- The Lord Commander will want to hear' he says."\

"And this man at the camp, what did he look like?" asked Jon, though he had an idea.

"Big man, red-" and the ranger's eyes went wide as Jon heard the footsteps falling next to him and the large arm grab him around the shoulder.

"'The MOST important news Jon'll hear all month' is actually what I said," the low timbre of Tormund's voice cut in from Jon's side.

"That'll explain it. You did good -"

"Bart. Bartholomew, Lord Commander Snow." chimed the ranger.

"You did a good job, Bart. Head back to camp, there should still be some stew in the pot. Help yourself," said Jon. Ranger Bartholomew took his leave gratefully as Jon turned toward his friend. "You sent the poor lad sprinting a mile from camp just to tell me Sansa was coming in two days time?"

"I can't kill Crows anymore, you have to at least give me this," said Tormund, but the smile told Jon that even if he asked him not to torment the Night's Watch rangers, his request would fall on deaf ears. "And it's true anyway, isn't it? Sansa is coming."

Jon felt like he was back in the courtyard of Winterfell, Theon needling his ribs after catching Jon exchanging glances with one of the maids' girls, and his cheeks reddened, despite the cold. "I'd think the report on grain stores was more important, being able to feed everyone and all," Jon felt the weakness in his retort even as he said the words and the look Tormund gave him only confirmed it.

"Right," was all Tormund could say to that. "Anyway, two days! We have to prepare a feast! Remember what we had after the Long Night? How are we going to do something like that here?"

Jon thought of the pitiful kitchen they had built at camp, the two pots in the two fires and the thought of such a minuscule set-up putting out a feast fit for a queen, for Sansa made him laugh. Tormund quickly joined in as the two friends turned back toward camp, strapping the sled carrying the firewood to their backs. "What do you care anyway, Tormund? She's not your Queen."

And she wasn't. The Queen in the North had a good relationship with the Freefolk, they didn't spend their free time fantasizing about how they'd kill her at least, but she had no power over how they lived their lives.

Tormund stopped and turned toward Jon, more serious than Jon had seen him in quite some time. "I am Tormund Giantsbane and I care about what matters to you, Jon Snow." He had grasped Jon by the shoulder.

Jon didn't quite know how to take this and the two simply looked into each other's eyes for a few seconds. Jon took in Tormund's sincere smile and returned it, the two turned back toward camp and started their long trek again, Tormund taking a swig from his goatskin before handing it to Jon. "And besides, I remember what happened the last time you and a redhead spent time together out here in this corner of the frozen world and it's been too long."

Jon nearly choked on the Wildling wine.