Winterfell:

It was the same dream – Jon had been down in the crypts speaking to his Father, but it continued into the different one that he had had during his time asleep while recovering from his injury;

The Kings Of Winter moved out of their places and raised their swords as if he was intruding.

Jon backed away and yelled for his life, "I'm a Stark! I'm the son of Lord Eddard Stark!"

Despite his reassuring words, The Kings Of Winter continued towards him – ready to kill him.

A growl came from behind him as Ghost came to defend his Master, but something was different. His dire wolf quickly changed into an enormous dragon – pure white with red eyes.

It sent the Kings Of Winter retreating, and then the Dragon Ghost turned to Jon, with flames building in his throat.

The King Of The North tried to shield himself as the flames engulfed him but then realized that he felt no pain. The fire was purifying him – strengthening him, and suddenly, his fear was gone.

When the flames abated, Jon looked down at his hands, which were still burning but were painless.

"Jon," an unfamiliar voice came from behind him, and he turned to see who had spoken.

It was the statue of his Aunt Lyanna Stark, who was the only woman to be buried under Winterfell;

"Jon, it's time to take your place. You don't belong down here."

"Aunt Lyanna?"

She walked forward and touched his burning hand, and when she did – he felt it cool, and he closed his eyes in relief. She was soon embracing him, and Jon found himself melting into her arms instinctively.

"I only got to hold you once," she whispered in his ear as she held him, "I'm so sorry. I wish I could have lived and been there for you. You didn't deserve the pain or the mistreatment, but I promise you that one day soon, you'll be the rightful King."

He pulled away from her, confused but when he started speaking to ask her what she meant – no words came out as the statue had changed from his Aunt Lyanna to his Father again;

"I promised the next time we saw each other that we'd talk about your Mother, but I'm gone. I promised to protect you, but now it's your time to protect everyone," Ned Stark spoke softly, putting his hand on Jon's shoulder, "Bran will tell you the truth, but remember, you will always be my blood."

His Father began changing then and in his place was Bran, except his face wasn't stone, nor was he in his unique chair. Jon gasped and instinctively went to catch his brother, expecting him to fall;

"I won't fall here, Jon," his younger brother told him, "this is a vision, like the ones you used to have when you were younger. We need to go back to the surface before The Kings Of Winter return. They know that you don't belong down here, and they don't like your presence. You aren't a Stark."

Those words were like a stab in the heart, but for the first time since retaking Winterfell – those words felt right. More accurate than they ever had been, so he followed Bran up the stairwell to the courtyard of Winterfell. However, when his younger brother walked through the doorway there was a shake throughout the crypts, and suddenly rocks fell – covering the entrance and leaving Jon alone;

The fear he had felt before being burned by the Dragon Ghost returned as he desperately began hitting the stone and calling for his sisters and brother or any of the other Lords and Ladies of Winterfell to help him. He continued punching through the rock until his fist was bloody and mangled.

Finally, Jon fell through the stone and found himself in the courtyard. He laid there on his back, looking at his hands, which were covered in blood and burning again.

'Fire and blood?' The King Of The North thought.

"Yes, Fire and Blood," Jon quickly got to his feet and looked to see Bran standing there waiting, "your hands are burning, but you feel no pain. The ice that courses through your veins has made you strong, but the fire has been waiting. Everything that happened has brought you to where you are now, which is where you belong – Home with us."

Suddenly his younger brother looked depressed, an emotion that the young Prince of the North hadn't expressed since returning to Winterfell – even while visiting Rickon's tomb;

"You can't stay here, though," Bran continued, "your place is elsewhere. It's time for you to know the truth and take your rightful place as King. You need to lead us, with Ice and Fire – and Blood."

"What are you talking about, Bran?" Jon asked, perplexed by his statements, "are you talking about us joining forces with Daenerys Targaryen? How can I be King Of The North and join her when she wants me to bend the knee? I'm so scared that Sansa won't accept her terms because they don't include Northern independence."

"The North will get its independence, but as I said – you don't belong here. You aren't a Stark – at least not fully," his younger brother walked forward upon seeing the painful expression on his face and put his hand on the Kings shoulder, "you'll always be a brother to us, and you'll always be our blood, but it's nearly time for you to learn the truth."

"What truth?" His voice shook as he was unsure if he wanted the answer.

"It isn't quite time yet," Bran said, "but it will be soon. The Dragon Queen will learn the truth before we arrive at Dragonstone. I can't see how she'll react yet, but we need to be ready. Everything has to come to light at the right time, in the right place and in the right way. Or our family will be in danger."

"When will you tell me?" Jon asked.

"When you're ready, and they are too."

Jon woke up in a cold sweat and startled upon realizing that someone was lying beside him;

Her blonde hair was out of her usual braid and spread across the pillows. The furs were covering her pale skin, and the memories quickly returned to his mind as he laid back and tried to relax.

She had come to him after the feast as he had requested;

The knock on the door was light, and Jon knew precisely who it was as she entered.

"Your grace," Idalia greeted with a curtsy.

He smiled and stood from his desk and walked over to her swiftly.

"Thanks for coming Dalia," her old nickname made her smile, and that made him in turn.

"I wanted to thank you for staying by my side while I was recovering. As well as keeping my sister company during my absence," Jon continued, "I heard you got quite close."

"We have your grace," Idalia stated, "she has become a fine woman. Forgive me for saying so, but she's no longer the spoiled and disrespectful girl that she once was. She used to be so cruel to you, under her Mothers influence. She missed you dearly during your travels and worried for you."

He smiled sadly, "I know she was afraid for me. I promised her I'd return, but she said that Stark men don't do so well down South. I told her that it's a good thing I'm not a Stark and only the bastard of Winterfell."

"You aren't the bastard of Winterfell anymore," she had reminded him, "you're the King Of The North. Your Father and brother, Robb, would be proud of you. I know I'm exceptionally proud of you, Jon."

He looked at her with wide eyes when she finally called him by his name, and without thinking about it – he moved forward quickly, pulling her close to him by her hips and putting his lips on hers.

The kiss lasted only a few moments before Jon realized what he had done and pulled away;

"I'm sorry," was the first thing out of his mouth, his hands letting go of her hips.

"You don't need to apologize," Idalia told him, somewhat breathless, "you're the King."

"That doesn't mean I have the right-" He had put his face down and stepped back a couple of steps.

"Would it have been better if you had asked me for my consent beforehand?"

Jon looked at her for a couple of moments, confused by the tone in her voice, but then nodded.

"Then do so."

He took a couple of steps forward and smiled coyly, "may I kiss you, Lady Lake?"

Idalia smiled, "that would please me very much, your grace."

His hands returned to her hips, and their lips met in a passionate kiss. Her arms were soon wrapped around his neck and his arms around her waist, holding her flush against him.

They soon found themselves falling onto the bed, where they would stay all night together.

That had n three nights ago;

Jon smiled at the memories and turned on his side to wrap an arm around the sleeping Lady beside him.

She had been in his bed every night since then but woke before dawn to return to her chamber. She insisted on this because, as an unwed Lady, she knew that it wouldn't be proper for her to be seen leaving the chambers of a man – even if it was a King.

'I don't want her to be my mistress,' he thought to himself, 'she deserves better. If this is discovered, she'll be shamed, and it'll be difficult for her to find a husband that won't see her as tainted.'

The idea of Idalia finding a Lord to marry and having children with him made his blood boil;

'I don't own her,' Jon reminded himself, 'I may be King, but she isn't mine.'

Those thoughts brought forth another memory – the conversation he and his sister had had when Idalia had first arrived at Winterfell before his departure to Dragonstone.

"Don't do that," Jon had replied shortly when his sister had entered his chambers, "sound all innocent like you aren't plotting anything. I know you."

"I haven't done anything but gather allies for us for The Long Night," Sansa had replied.

"Oh, so this has nothing to do with our conversation from the other day? About marriage?"

Sansa had sat down in front of the fire and smirked, "you made it quite clear that you didn't care about my advice on the subject."

"I don't have time to think about marriage and sons right now. I need to figure out how to defeat The Night King and his army. Nothing is more important than that at the moment."

"As I explained to you – part of being King is being married and having heirs. You're already twenty-three, and because you're a Bastard, your claim isn't absolute until you marry and have a son."

"I'll worry about that once The Long Night is ended. You have my word Sansa, but in the meantime-"

"You may lose your army by then! I'm trying to solidify your claim to the North and advising you about the politics, but you're insisting on being ignorant! I know you don't want to think about marriage right now, but they made you King Of The North, and that comes with responsibilities."

"I never asked for this!" He had snapped, instantly regretting raising his voice at his traumatized sister, but frustrated that she failed to understand.

"I only accepted reclaiming Winterfell for you, and as you keep pointing out – we only won The Battle Of The Bastards because the Knights Of The Vale came to our aid for you. I only accepted becoming King because I wanted to protect you and-"

"The Seven Kingdoms," she had finished his sentence for him and continued, "you're the shield that guards the realm of men. I believe you about The Long Night Jon, but there's more to fighting a war and gathering allies for The Battle For The Dawn then just military alliances. Robb didn't realize that."

"I'm not Robb! I don't intend to make the same mistakes as him or Father."

"Then perhaps you should listen to my advice! I learned things in Kings Landing about ruling a kingdom, and I know more than you think. If Robb had spent more time listening to our Mother then breaking his vows and-"

"Your Mother," Jon had interrupted, "and I agree that Robb made mistakes, but I'm not him. I know I was never as good as Robb at riding or fighting, or as smart as him – However, I'd like to believe that I have learned more. After all, I have survived this long, and I have had to make some political decisions too."

"Like going South to meet with a Queen, you don't know whose father murdered members of our family?"

"Sansa – I'm going South for us. I know I don't know about marriage alliances, but the main thing we need to focus on is building an army – as well as gathering the tools we'll need for the war ahead."

His voice had changed from annoyed to authoritative to indicate that the conversation was over.

Despite being done with the conversation, Jon had continued, "When I return from Dragonstone, we'll speak of marriage alliances – once I have an army behind me and the Dragon Glass in barrels headed for Winterfell."

He had watched Sansa sigh, but she had nodded and decided to take her leave.

"And don't think I don't realize your plans for Idalia," Jon had said when she reached the door.

"I don't know what you suspect I'm plotting," his sister had replied with a smirk.

"I told you I wouldn't marry someone that I didn't love. It was just a coincidence that the young Lady I was once infatuated with shows up at Winterfell a few days after we had that conversation?"

"Completely coincidental."

This had made him smile despite himself, "you may still have the others fooled, but I'm not. I know how intelligent you are, and I know what you wanted."

"My only desires are to have our family together and safe, and that requires marriage for you. I also figured that Idalia could make you happy and bring a smile to your face. I remember how you lit up whenever she came through the Winterfell gates when we were children. I want you to be happy."

"That's sweet Sansa," his frustration had disappeared as he walked over and embraced her , "we'll speak when I get home."

This conversation played in Jon's mind as he laid beside Idalia, thinking about the idea of her marrying someone else;

'Perhaps it's time for me to speak to Sansa,' he thought, 'I wonder if she'd even marry me...'

Insecurity filled him, but he tried to ignore it as he pulled the blonde Lady closer to him and nuzzled his face into her neck;

She squirmed, and for a moment, The King Of The North worried that she'd be annoyed at having been woken up, but she merely smiled and pushed her body back towards his – before falling back to sleep.

'I love her,' Jon realized, but then shame filled him, and Ygritte's face popped into his head.

'I did fall in love with her, but at the same time – I don't know if I ever stopped loving Dalia.'

He felt conflicted and wondered who he could speak to about these feelings.

'Tormund – Tormund will understand... Hopefully, he won't kill me for this.'

Once Idalia had woken and gotten her shift and cloak on, she returned to her chambers.

Jon had watched her leave with a small smile, still thinking about the idea of marrying her.

Once she had left, The King Of The North waited a few minutes before rising and dressing. He immediately wanted to speak to Tormund and found him exactly where he had expected;

"Tormund," Jon called, breaking his friend away from his breakfast.

"Your grace," Tormund responded, without looking up or stopping eating.

"You do realize that we have morning feast in a couple of hours, right?"

"Yes, but I always wake up hungry," his friend replied, "don't worry – I'll still eat."

Jon sat down at the table and remained quiet until Tormund looked up and asked, "something you need?"

"Yes, I don't know who else to speak to about this," The King Of The North said anxiously.

"It's about that Lady Lake one. You're fucking her – I already know that."

He was surprised by this, and Tormund laughed, "everybody knows Jon! Your sisters, your brother, the Lords, and Ladies, and all the soldiers and servants – everybody has figured it out. I must say, I was shocked that you'd touch her without marrying her. I thought you Lords and Ladies frowned upon that sort of thing, and you've always been so damn honorable."

Jon sighed, "I didn't mean to do it. It just happened, and I thought it was a secret. I don't want to dishonor her, and I'm worried that I have, but at the same time – I don't know if it would be possible for me to marry her. I just... I've loved her since before I was sent to Castle Black, and there was once a time when I was-"

"She still loves you," his friend told him bluntly, "and you still love her. So, I don't see the issue. Just marry her, make her your Queen, and make some heirs – that's it, that's all. You came here because you're scared that I'll be angry, and about what? Ygritte has been dead for over two years. It's time to move on and get laid."

Tormund's words probably should have made him feel better immediately, but they didn't;

"I truly did love her," The King Of The North said, "I don't want you or the other Free Folk to think that I didn't... The feelings that I had for Ygritte were real. I don't know if I ever stopped loving Idalia or if the feelings I had for her when we were children just returned because I truly loved Ygritte."

"Do you think because you're moving on that means you didn't love her?" His friend asked, "I've got feelings for that big knight lady, but I loved Ali and Karla's Mother. You're allowed to fall in love again and find someone else to live your life with when your partners' life ends. It's natural."

Jon thought about what Tormund was saying and also found himself surprised that his two daughters had the same Mother. When he inquired about this, his friend laughed again;

"Do you think that the Free Folk only fuck casually and never commit to each other? Ygritte was committed to you, just like I was committed to my daughter's Mother. I was with her for twelve years, and when she died – I was devastated, but I knew that she'd want me to carry on and find new love."

"When did she die?" Jon asked tentatively, hoping that Tormund didn't think he had crossed the line by asking.

"It was a few months before we met actually – so almost five years ago, and you want to know something? I still miss her, and sometimes I think I still love her. She gave me two beautiful daughters – wild and disobedient in their own ways, but still wonderful. She'd want me to move on, though."

Tormund finally put his food down and put his hand on Jon's shoulder, "Ygritte would want you to move on too. I know you still miss her, and perhaps you still love her, but your feelings for that Lady Idalia are real too, and you shouldn't let that go. We weren't meant to live life in the past, and after everything that you have done and been through for us – you deserve happiness."

"I betrayed her," The King Of The North put his face in his hands, feeling ashamed of himself as the memories flowed into his head, but his friend squeezed his shoulder harder.

"No, you betrayed yourself. Ygritte knew what you were, and I think she knew that you'd leave her and return to your duty. She loved you and was willing to protect you when you fought us. I remember holding her back because she would have killed all of us to protect you and leave with you."

He smiled sadly, "do you think she'd be all right with me having another chance at love?"

"You of all people deserve this, Jon. You have done so much for the Free Folk – you risked it all for us and lost your life for it. You did what was right and gave us a home – treated us like people, your people. If you're asking for my permission, then you have it. Go ahead and marry her."

Jon grinned the biggest one Tormund had ever seen, and this brought joy to him as well.

"Thank you, Tormund," his friend said, rising from his chair, "I needed your blessing. Thank you so much."

Without another word, The King Of The North left the room and went straight to speak to Idalia.

Jon found her in the stables, brushing her horse as she did every morning;

She wore a plain blue dress and had yet to braid her hair, which fell in messy waves down her back.

"I'll never understand why you don't allow your servants to do that."

Idalia jumped but upon seeing who it was, smiled and returned to brushing her horse's mane;

"It's peaceful, and I enjoy doing things for myself," she explained, "I know people think I'm odd, but it makes me happy."

"Whatever makes you happy works for me then," Jon said, but Idalia could tell that something sounded strange in his tone – timid almost, "do you think you'd still do it yourself if you were Queen?"

She stopped brushing and turned to him, noticing his eyes were fixated on her.

She took a breath and tried to sound normal when she answered, "I probably would, but why would you ask such a thing?"

"I wanted to ask you if you'd be my Queen," The King Of The North's voice was full of anxiety and before he could continue to say that she didn't need to answer right away or feel pressured – his body was being knocked backward as she jumped into his arms.

"Yes!" Idalia told him with not a shred of doubt or hesitancy in her voice, "I'd love to be your Queen."

She didn't give him the time to speak before kissing him passionately.

Jon was beaming when they parted, "you don't need to answer right away or say yes just because I'm King. I love you, Dalia – I truly do, and I only want you to marry me if you feel the same way... I know it has been years since we were children, so I completely understand if you don't have those feelings anymore. We can find you a husband-"

She kissed him again, this time to silence him;

"I love you, Jon. I have since we were children, and I will until the end of my days. I wanted to marry you before they sent you to Castle Black, even when you were just the bastard of Winterfell. I love you, Jon Snow, do you understand? I want to be your Queen and give you heirs and make you happy."

"You will," The King Of The North replied confidently, "and I want to make you happy and give you everything you've ever wanted. I'll love you until the end of my days and spend every day and night, making sure that you know how much I love you – how much I've always loved you. I will, I promise."

"I have no doubt," Idalia kissed him once more, and this time, Jon picked her up and spun her around.

She laughed and felt the happiest she had ever felt in her life. The simple truth was, she would have wanted to marry him if he had been a farmer plowing a field or a peasant living down in Wintertown.

She loved him for who he was and didn't care about being Queen Of The North, but she would do her best to do right by the people of the North and be the best wife and Queen, and eventual Mother that she could be.

"I love you," Jon whispered in her ear once more before kissing her lips gently and excusing himself from the stables – promising to see her again at the evening feast for the official announcement.