After her declaration, she didn't speak; only looked up at him with those wondrous eyes of hers.

"Lady Sansa Stark." He repeated slowly, "of Winterfell. Tell me Lady Sansa, why did you put on this mummer's farce? What do you want from me?"

Her lips pinched in anger, "I didn't pretend to be a bastard for you. I've had to live like this long before you set foot in the Stormlands. I told you what happened to me in our lessons, remember?"

Aegon wanted to touch her lips, to smooth her scowl into a smile. This was the madness he would be known for. "You fled after Joffrey Baratheon was killed at his own wedding feast. Some would say you poisoned him."

"I was kidnapped by Petyr Baelish." She explained. "He had a man poison Joffrey, a man I thought I could trust. He took me aboard a ship and told me it was bound for the North, but that was a lie. Petyr Baelish brought me here, remade me as his bastard daughter, and plotted to use me to gain more power."

"But that failed and you...remained a bastard." Aegon took a deep breathe as he thought of her position. The North would fight for her, there was no doubt. The Riverlands would stand behind her. She had the Lord Paramount of Vale drinking from her cup. "Why didn't you go along with these plots?"

Eyes glistening, she croaked. "He wanted to me to kill my own cousin, to start a war for a birthright that has caused me nothing but pain. That's why I was so happy when I heard that my brother was in Winterfell again. I could be with him, and you, and Sweetrobin. I could go home and have a family again."

She stopped, her mouth frozen over with too many words.

Before his brain could catch up to his heart, Aegon pulled her into his arms and kissed her. He was lost in his love for her.

Lady Stark. Lady Stark. Lady Sansa Stark.

The name of a stranger in the skin of the girl he loved. It rang in his head day and night, pushing "Alayne" out bit by bit. Eddard Stark's daughter, Lyanna Stark's niece. Gods, he's turned into his father, lusting after a northwoman.

But she wasn't just another northwoman, she was still the same girl she's already been. Still Sweetrobin's caretaker, still the only one besides him Rhaegal would allow to feed him by hand, the girl whose lips tasted like lemoncakes. Only her hair was different, the deep brown giving way to shiny auburn. It only made her even more beautiful.

The valemen were not pleased with the deception at first, but they soon accepted that it was only way for her escape the Lannisters. And if they could accept it, why not him?

"What spell has this girl cast on you?" Jon demanded. Though his face was stiff and serious, a note of anxiety slip through into his tone. "Have you forgotten what happened the last time a Targaryen fell in love with a Stark? She's just like her aunt, I sense."

"Lady Sansa is no more guilty of what all those years ago than Princess Rhaenys or my mother." Aegon replied coolly.

Jon shook his head and poured himself another goblet of wine. His arm had grown stiffer as of late, but he would not see it treated. "See, she is already sowing strife among us."

"She's just a girl." Aegon protested.

"And what of Daenerys?" Jon argued. "She was to be your bride, House Targaryen reunited."

"She won't marry me." Aegon replied, to Jon's shock. "She's like the summer wind, not meant for one place or one man. She told that she couldn't have children, and what is a king without heirs?"

Stubbornly, Jon did not relent. "But why a Stark girl? Explain this infatuation you have with her, if she's just a girl."

"You wouldn't understand. You've never been in love with before."

The minute the words came out of his mouth, Aegon regretted it. His foster-father's face became as white as Viserion's wings. "You don't know what you speak of." He growled. "Love is the bane of duty, and you have a duty to your realm."

"Things are not as they were when my father ran off with Lady Lyanna. The alliance that nearly ruined House Targaryen can be made into the key that will save it. Sansa's brother is Lord of Winterfell, her cousin Lord of the Eyrie, her uncle Lord of Riverrun. That's three kingdoms under my heel without raising a sword."

"You've already won the Vale's allegiance. And you're a fool to think that one woman, however well connected she is, can wield so much power. Lord Tully is grown man and Lord Stark has his bannermen pulling him like a puppet on a string. These men will not kneel on the word of girl they've not see for three years. You need -"

"Yes, tell me more of what I need." Aegon barked angrily. "Will you be holding my hand when I sit on the Iron Throne?"

Impossibly, Jon turned even whiter. "Aegon, I only want what's best for you."

Aegon turned away for a minute to collect his thoughts. He looked at Jon again and more calmly said, "I understand, but I am my own man. If this is a mistake, I will be bear the consequences."

"I could not live with myself if I allowed your dynasty to crumble again." Jon whispered.

Aegon smiled weakly, "You said it yourself. If she doesn't have to power to raise three kingdoms, how much trouble could she cause?"

The North rejoiced when their lost daughter took her rightful place in Winterfell. Lord Rickon forgot all decorum when his sister stepped onto the grounds. He ran from Lord Umber's side, his great black direwolf at his heels, and hugged her tight around the middle. Aegon felt something stirring in his chest. The last thing he had expected was to be happy at the Starks reuniting. Sweetrobin had come with them, along with a few of his bannermen. Still growing accustom to his caretaker's true identity, he was plainly uncomfortable with the thought of sharing her with another child. After the introductions, he seemed to grow at bit warmer to his little cousin.

Because Lord Rickon was still a child, Mors Umber had appointed Lord Protector until he came of age. So it was with the lords of the North whom Aegon worked out the terms of the alliance. The North would swear fealty with the promise that the Iron Throne would keep land-grabbing southerners out of their lands. Since several houses had been wiped out in the war, fights had broken out over who ought to have the unclaimed lands.

Aegon felt uncomfortable with the way the northerners looked him, as if swearing fealty was like being sent to executioner's block. Mayhaps it was. In the past twenty years, two lords, an heir and a king had all be murdered by southerners, so they did not look to another southerner - worse, a foreigner who had not set foot in Westeros since he was babe - with friendly eyes.

It was Sansa, with her unlimited supply of charm and grace, that brought her countrymen to bent the knee. Aegon had sorely underestimated the North's stubbornness. Without her and Rhaegal, he would have lost the North.

"Marry me." The word tumbled out clumsily the first time they were alone together since arriving in Winterfell. Sansa had come to his solar unexpectedly to discuss having Sweetrobin fostered in King's Landing.

The declaration startled her and she stood in front of him with a blank expression. Just as Aegon began to feel like a fool, like he should have known that she would decline, her face crumpled, lined with tears. "Don't mock me like that. We both know this can never come to pass."

"Mock you? Never. Sansa, I love you. I want to wake every morning with you in my arms. I want to give you sons and daughters-"

"What men want matters not." She interrupted. "What will your aunt say? What will the high lords says? I am still considered a murderer."

"I don't care what anyone says."

"And that is your problem. You wear a crown and that means everything everyone says is something you should care about. Your power comes from the fealty you receive from the high lords. If you anger them, they will retaliate."

"Do you love me?" Aegon held her face in his hands.

"Yes."

"Do you want to marry me?"

"More than anything."