A/N: Here's the next chapter. Happy reading.

Chapter 9

Jon

"Did you enjoy the feast, my prince?" Sansa Stark asked Jon in the middle of the godswood. A light snow began to fall from the sky and Jon found himself at wonder with the white flakes. They peppered his face and hair, cold like a light kiss upon his cheeks. Like Dany's kisses, he mused. "I did," his betrothed went on. "I loved the harp, the dresses, the food…it was like a song." The sigh she let out was not one Jon could understand.

He did not reply. Jon was more interested in the summer snows than the warmth of Sansa's hand in his. Be less cold around her, Ser Barristan's words rang in his mind like a bell. The old knight has wisdom, Jon thought to himself but he did not want to listen. They were words his mother had told him, his father as well. Have all taken notice? He wondered. Is it so plain that I care not for my betrothed?

The weirwood tree of Winterfell sent a shiver down his spine. It was a thing which sparked such curiosity in Jon. The white bark, the red crying eyes, and the face that reminded him of a crying man. Jon could somewhat sympathize. It was how he felt as of late since he confessed his love for Dany under the stars. How I wish to close my eyes and see this all end. To find her hand in mine and not Sansa's.

And the girl noticed his displeasure. "Is something wrong, my prince?" she asked. "You seem to be distant and cold."

Jon, my name is Jon. He only closed his eyes and wished the girl could read his mind. Don't be so cold around her. "My name is Jon, Sansa," he said. He turned from the weirwood to face the girl. She wore a cloak over her auburn hair, which spilled out from it neatly, and her blue eyes reminded him of shimmering seas. The girl is beautiful, he admitted. That much I can say. "You can call me Jon, if you want. We shouldn't be so formal around each other."

"Sure, Jon." The way she said it told him she was happy to call him that. "Jon, did you love the feast?"

He sighed inside, thinking she had said something, and knew this isn't what he wanted, to marry her. It was Dany he wanted. Part of him wished to spurn the girl against him—make her dislike him in hopes she'd complain to Lord Eddard and wish the betrothal annulled. Jon would lay in his bed at night fantasizing about such a thing, only for a pang of guilt to arise in his chest. Is she so horrible, Jon? His mother's voice would come into his mind. Why must you hate this girl before even knowing her?

Jon still thought it unfair.

"Why can't I marry for love?!" he wanted to shout at his parents. "If you did why can't I?" How he wished to say that to both his mother and father, and after spending time with Daenerys in the crypts tried to muster up the courage to do so. He was afraid, however. Afraid of his parents' reaction and their scolding.

Sansa Stark gave his hand a tug. "My prince, is something wrong?" She cleared her throat. "Jon, I mean."

Jon startled himself. "I'm sorry, my lady—forgive me. My thoughts are elsewhere, as of late."

"Oh," she said softly and there was such an innocence…she's a child, just a child. My parents want me to marry a child. She hesitated with her words.

"Is there something you wish to tell me?" Jon asked to ease her pain.

The girl shook her head. "You may tell me," Jon assured her, "of what you mean to ask. If we are to be married upon a day, I think it's best we start being honest with each other."

Jon could see she was trying to find the courage. "No need to be afraid, Sansa." He forced himself to smile. "Just say what's on your mind."

"I was just wondering, Jon," she finally managed to squeak, "if you like me is all."

Don't be so cold with the girl. "Sansa," Jon said softly, almost in a whisper. Her stare was to the godswood floor and not his face, so Jon rested a hand on her shoulder. "I don't hate you," he whispered and she looked to him from the ground. Her face told him how surprised she was at his words. "I-I do like you, I just need time." Lie, you lie. You love another. Tell her the truth, Jon Targaryen. "I am growing to love you," he lied and it pained him. He couldn't be harsh to the girl. "You're pretty and kind, and…I know this must be like one of your songs, and I know I've been cold." He sighed. "I'm trying to apologize, I suppose."

"You love me…?" was all she seemed to hear. Jon could have sighed loudly, did to himself even, but he was distracted by her wide blue eyes and the smile on her face that reminded him of Dany's after they would sneak away from their lessons. What have you gotten yourself into, Jon?

"Sansa—" he croaked, wishing to clear the misunderstanding, but they were snuffed after she wrapped her arms about his neck. "I'm so happy!" she squealed into the nape of his neck. "I love you too, Jon!"

Seven hells, he cursed and he forced himself to gently embrace her lower back. His hands hesitated to hold her fully, as if her touch disgusted him. Her auburn hair smelled like lemon water and flowers. From all Jon could admit to himself he liked the smell of her hair and how much liked him. She loves the prince and not me. Remind yourself of that in moments like these. Jon wanted to believe that to be the case entirely, yet found it hard to when she made such an effort to show how much she cared. For some reason he saw a small blessing in that—a blessing that the girl Rhaegar had chosen was kind. But not Dany, that's the only problem. She isn't Dany. Jon figured were it not for that one small fact, mayhaps his words would have been true.

Sansa's wet kiss to his cheek startled him into the present. The smile on her face was so wide he thought her mouth would break. Jon figured he should say something. "I-I also am happy," he lied again. Liar, you're a liar. Why do you torture this poor girl?

His betrothed squealed and hugged him again. "Why can't we marry on the morrow?" The jest made Jon nervous. "If only we could," she wished and swooned, holding both of their hands. "I could ask my father."

Jon chuckled. "No, my lady, I think it's best we wait until we are older. That way our love is true."

"Sansa," she reminded him sternly. "If I am to call you Jon, you are to call me Sansa. We love each other now."

"Sansa…" Jon said but the words caught in his throat like a lump of coal. Hot and heavy, the words were trapped, words which could release him from this spell. I don't love you, he wanted to say. I love Dany. Again thoughts of spurning her against him ran into his mind's eye, and thought telling her that truth would do the trick, but the coal in his throat quelled at Ser Barristan's words: Don't be so cold to the girl.

"What is it you were going to say?" she asked with that same wide smile. Jon could see the love in her eyes, he supposed. It was similar to the look Dany gave him after each time they kissed, but instead her silver hair had turned auburn and her lilac eyes became blue. How Jon wished to reverse that.

"I was going to say," he told her, "that it's best to wait for our marriage."

Sansa nodded. "I agree, I guess. Mother always says a love born out of time is stronger than one out of lust. Although I'm not sure what lust means."

Jon did, but wouldn't tell her, instead he said, "Your mother is wise, Sansa, and I agree with her words. It's best we wait."

"Fine, Jon." She squealed again, the happiness clear, and her cloak was soft against his chest. Jon decided to holder this time, as he might have Dany, because he felt bad for the girl. Here I am, her prince in shining armor, only to be the man who lies to her. Jon felt ashamed and guilty that he didn't tell her the truth. Don't be so cold to the girl.

After Sansa pulled from his embrace the smile was gone, only to find a childlike curiosity in its place. Confused, Jon just held her by the hips and waited to see what was to happen. Sansa's eyes widened with a bitten lower lip, and she closed them to steal a kiss. Surprised, Jon didn't know what to do or feel. Her lips tasted like fruit, small and innocent against his own. He felt a slight swell in his breast, a burning sensation in his stomach, and the kiss was not strong or passionate as it had been with Dany. I'm her first kiss, he realized in that moment. Another thing I've done wrong against her.

Sansa Stark had kissed him like a maid of her age would—lightly and gently. Her blue eyes reminded Jon of a pond, her face riddled with shock, and Jon's mirrored her own. "I'm sorry," she apologized with shame. "I shouldn't have kissed you like that, but…"

"I was your first kiss wasn't I?"

The girl nodded and Jon said, "Sansa, the kiss was fine. Don't think me angry because of that."

"You didn't like it?"

"No," he assured, "it was fine. I liked it, but…" Don't be so cold with the girl. He sighed. "I-I have something to tell you."

"What?" she asked in clear worry. Jon held her hands, the least bit of kindness he could give her, and stared into the blue pools of her eyes.

"I-I love—"he had begun to say but the sound of armor approaching them made him stop talking. Jon spun his head around to see Ser Barristan approaching in his armor that was like the snow covering the ground. "Ser Barristan?"

"Your Highness." He gave a dip of his head. "My lady." He gave one to Sansa. He looked to Jon. "King Rhaegar requests your presence, my prince."

Jon nodded and felt afraid. "I'll be right with him." Sansa Stark's hood was let down and snowflakes caught in her hair. The auburn shined as they melted and Jon thought her beautiful although the guilt remained. What is happening to me?

"I'll find you later, Sansa," he told her and she gave a nod. "And I'll finish what I started to say, I suppose."

Sansa gave his hand a firm clench and an embrace to match. "I love you, Jon," she whispered into his ear.

The words felt like a punch to the gut and her voice was so pure. Jon knew that she truly cared for him now, felt something genuine other than a royal infatuation, and the guilt festered in his soul like a bad wound. Don't be so cold with the girl. "I love you too, Sansa," he said to her and knew they were not true. If someone were to strike me down right now I would care not. I'd see it as a blessing.

Jon left her to see his father with Ser Barristan. "All went well; I trust?" his companion asked. Jon looked to Ser Barristan like the grandfather he never had.

"Well enough…" Jon sort of lied.

"It looked as if it went well." Barristan Selmy smirked. "Words of love were uttered, I heard. Did you take my advice?"

All too well. "She confessed her love for me, Ser Barristan."

"And you do not feel the same?"

"I'm not sure." Jon sighed. "She isn't horrible, Ser Barristan, but…she's so young and naïve. Thinks life is a song."

"She's becoming a lady, Your Highness, that'll change with age. I promise she won't be that way forever."

Jon hoped he was right, but wished the girl was Dany. They neared the godswood gates and his throat hitched when he saw his love with ten guards. Dany's hair was tangled and wet from snow, her skirts had mud along the edges and the cloak was moist, too. "Why are you here?" Jon asked her as they followed Ser Barristan to see the king.

"I'm not sure," Dany whispered. "I went riding with Arya Stark instead of sewing with Lady Catleyn. I'm sure Rhaegar wants to scold me for that."

"Then why am I here with you?" Jon wondered. He had done what duty dictated in spending time with his betrothed.

"Ser Barristan knows, Jon."

He was confused. "Knows about what."

"Us," she said, "or so I think. The way he looks at us tells me he does, and he went to see Rhaegar. Remember?"

Jon did remember he just thought nothing of it. Ser Barristan and his father had been good friends for a very long time, so it wasn't anything out of the normal. "Yes, I do," he replied, "but I didn't think anything of it. Do you think that's why we are going to meet with my father?"

"We are about to find out."

They marched through the courtyard and into the keep. Servants dipped their heads to pay their respects, Jon returned them, but his mind was only on what his father summoned them about. Mayhaps we did something else, he thought. Mayhaps Rhaegar has changed his mind. Jon wished to hope, but…

A lightly struck harp could be heard coming from the royal chambers where his father stayed with his mother. They had been given the second largest chamber in the Great Keep save for Lord Eddard's. The harp could be heard from outside the walls, beautiful in its structure. Jon's father was always good at playing it; he may be hoped to learn it upon a day.

Ser Barristan knocked on the door to announce their arrival. The harp stopped playing and Jon heard ruffling. "You may come in," his father permitted, firmly yet softly in that odd tone of his. Only King Rhaegar was capable of that.

His father was looking out a great window when they entered dressed in black satin with a red sash across his chest. The dragon crown nestled softly on his bed of silver hair and his hands were folded behind his back. "The prince and princess as requested," Barristan announced.

"Many thanks, Ser," his father thanked. "Leave us, if you would."

"At once, Your Grace." Barristan Selmy gave a nod and left them alone in the chamber. It was only Rhaegar, only his father, and his mother was nowhere to be found. The silence was killing him, filling him with dread too, and by the looks of it Dany was feeling the same. Jon exchanged an anxious look with her so they held hands for comfort. It was an act they had done since they were young enough to be scolded for disobeying orders. My father won't think anything of it since he may not know. Jon thought mayhaps they were too old for such things, but what would it matter now? A silent Rhaegar Targaryen was no cause for celebration. It was like a calm before the storm.

"Why have you summoned us, Father?" Jon asked the king.

"To talk," he said with poise, but his tone suggested he was displeased.

"About what, Rhaegar?" croaked Dany. Her hand was moist in hers. She's sweating, Jon observed. She's nervous. So was Jon. His breath was hitching, his heart beating fast. He did not feel comfortable.

"About things which should not be happening." His father turned to them with a face made of stone. It reminded him of the statues within the crypts of Winterfell. His dark indigo eyes were brooding, yet melancholic. Something Jon had seen in him since he was old enough to know what it was. His father was always a quiet, private man. You could not read his emotions easily, and his face mayhaps would just convey sadness if one did not know him. But in his indigo eyes he saw a storm brewing.

"What shouldn't be happening?" asked Dany.

Rhaegar's eyes flickered to their hands and back to them. "Since you were both children," he said, "you've always been close. Both without siblings to call your own it was only natural for you two to regard each other as such." He held his hands behind his back. "Since I could remember you would both hold hands to calm one another, but that was before you both grew into adolescence. Now, I fear, it's taken on a whole new meaning."

Jon's throat hitched as if someone was snatching the air from his lungs, his heart beat like a galloping horse, and sweat formed on his brow. My father knows, he knows. Rhaegar Targaryen was very smart and observant—nothing seemed to get past him. "He has eyes all over his head," Queen Lyanna would aways jest.

Daenerys seemed to think the same and squeezed his hand harder. "What meaning?" she squeaked. "We've always been close."

Rhaegar eyed them wearily. "Don't play coy, Daenerys." His voice was iron. "Let it be known that I won't have the Targaryen tradition continue that made our father mad."

Jon sighed to himself and accepted the defeat, a defeat which hurt him like a punch to the groin. "How long have you known?" he asked his father. "When did you find out?"

His father did not smile or show anything but his face of stone. "Does it matter? I have eyes everywhere, Jon. I know of what you two did that night at the feast, and your lingering gazes have been noted."

"Did Barristan tell you?" Dany asked.

"It does not matter," he replied, "who told me. All that matters is that you two have been kissing as if no one is watching. Escaping to the crypts thinking yourselves the wisest of them all." King Rhaegar sighed. "I take no joy in this. For a while I've had my suspicions, as has your mother. We both know how you feel for each other, and…" He shook his head. "It makes no matter."

"It was Barristan!" Dany flared. "I knew it. The traitor."

His father gave her a stern look. "Enough, Dany, I won't have this. Whether it was Barristan or the Father Above, it does not matter who told me. What you two have must end."

Dany raised her head in defiance and clenched Jon's hand. Although at times she was afraid, Dany was capable of much courage. It was moments like these in which Jon admired her. "But we love each other!" she shouted in what sounded like triumph. "We love each other truly, like you and Queen Lyanna." She looked to Jon for support.

He mustered the courage. "We do," he said to his father. "We love each other and always will!"

"This cannot be," he repeated sternly. "You are betrothed to Sansa Stark." He looked to Dany. "And you Quentyn Martell."

"I don't even know him!" she yelled. "Not to mention it's not even official."

"I've already written Prince Doran; I cannot go back on my word now. Our alliance with the Martells is already fragile with word of Oberyn working against me."

Jon was surprised. "So you believe me?"

"I've heard whispers," he told him, "although nothing definitive enough to warrant as proof." He turned his indigo eyes upon Dany. "It will end, Daenerys and Jon. Now."

"No!" Jon shouted this time. "It will not! I cannot stand by and watch a woman I love marry another man!"

"Nor me!" Dany agreed.

"Enough…" Rhaegar said firmly. "This is not up for debate. You will both do as your told. Don't make me take drastic action."

"Like what?"

"I'll have us leave Winterfell earlier than anticipated," he warned, "if this does not stop. I'll take Dany with me, Jon, and leave you with no other choice but to marry Sansa Stark."

"I won't!" Jon said defiantly. "I'll make her hate me!"

Rhaegar chuckled. "And have the Starks hate you back? You're going to be here for a very long time, Jon. Are you sure you want have their hate?"

Jon didn't know but felt an anger course through him. "I don't care! It's not fair!" In his desperation, Jon didn't know why he did this, but in that moment he took Dany by the back of the head and gave her a kiss. He was done caring, done doing what his father wanted when he himself didn't care about defying the Mad King. Dany's eyes were wide after the kiss, Jon's, too.

He looked to his father, whose face remained the same. "Fine," he said with piercing eyes, "you leave me no choice. Within the week we will leave for King's Landing, and you'll stay to foster in Winterfell. I won't turn my back on Lord Eddard after all he's done, nor spurn him by annulling the betrothal to his daughter. You may do as you please in this time, Jon—kiss Daenerys all you wish, announce your love for all to hear, but know that you'll have to suffer those consequences, for I will not annul the betrothal and neither will the Starks. They know once I leave these walls you'll forget Daenerys and turn to their daughter. She's pretty, kind, and will make a good wife. You'll see this in time. I know you, Jon, and you've always done the right thing. You won't hurt Sansa nor spurn the Starks. I know you are beginning to love them very much."

His father's words cut him to the bone like a sword wound. "Why did you betroth me to her, Father?" Jon pleaded. "She's just a child and has her head in the clouds. She thinks life is a song."

"Is she ugly or unkind?"

Jon sighed. "It's not that, you know she isn't, I just don't love her like I do Dany. She isn't like her…"

"You'll grow to love her in time, Jon. That I promise."

"Did you ever love Elia?" Dany asked of him. Jon was shocked by her words. "Did you grow to love her in-time, too?"

Rhaegar didn't seem fazed. "Yes, I did."

"Then why did you marry my mother?" Jon asked; he always wanted to know. "Why do you get to marry the woman you love, but I do not? I'm a prince, yes, but so were you—and you did what you wanted! You married who you wanted! Loved who you wanted!" He didn't know if he sounded mean and did not care.

His father sighed. "Jon, when you are old enough to understand you'll see why I did what I did with your mother. For now, I won't have you repeat my mistakes and make others suffer. You'll marry Sansa Stark and that's it."

"It's not fair!" Jon shouted again. "Why her? Why not Arianne Martell?"

He looked confused. "Arianne?"

"Yes, the eldest daughter of Doran. People talk in the Red Keep about how you should have betrothed her to me to keep the Martells happy. To pay for Elia."

"Yes, you're right, mayhaps I should, but I cannot think of only keeping the Martells happy."

"But Lyanna is Lord Eddard's sister, Rhaegar," said Dany, the anger seeming to have subsided from them both. Jon still felt his hand shaking from it, however. "You didn't have to betroth Jon to her for his loyalty."

"If what you say is true about Oberyn," his father said, "then I've already given them too much power. They blame me for Elia's death, and that of our children. Who knows the extent of their revenge? Doran is a man of logic and reason but his brother isn't. I thought to appease them by making him Hand and marrying Dany to Quentyn. Tying us by blood once more by marring her to Doran's son—she'll stay with him in King's Landing seeing as Arianne is his eldest and inherits Dorne by their law. You have no reason to to be in Sunspear, Dany, and neither does Quentyn."

"So he'll be a hostage?"

Rhaegar nodded. "Not openly, no, but should they try something against me or my own…well, I think having Quentyn under my home will stay their hand."

"That makes sense, I suppose," Jon conceded. "Arianne would be able to claim the throne should something happen to you if she had married me, and if we had children it makes it all the more legitimate."

"Other houses would back them by law," Rhaegar explained, "but not if I marry Quentyn to Dany. Quentyn cannot make a claim with Viserys still alive. Tywin would fight for that, I promise. Me marrying Quentyn to Dany is the smarter choice, although they'll no doubt be angry that I did not betroth you to Arianne. But you cannot please the world, Jon, and as King you'll learn this."

"But what of Tywin Lannister? Surely, you marrying Viserys to Cersei would give him a claim; he might try something to get me out of the way."

"I couldn't have him killed, nor make him my enemy. I needed his men and gold to rebuild the kingdoms after the war." Jon had never heard his father explain this before. "I needed him as an ally, Jon. There is no greater way to tie together two houses than marriage. I thought to appease him by handing my brother over as a husband to his daughter. Keeping Jaime as a hostage or something else would have spurned him against me when I needed his resources. Viserys is not my son and can't have a claim unless you and I should perish, and that won't happen. All political actions have consequences, Jon. You cannot escape them; they are not perfect."

"And you trust Tywin?" asked Dany.

"No, I do not, but he was a good Hand of the King. He'd consul Viserys, raise him right, and do the kingdoms well should something happen to me." Rhaegar sighed. "It's complicated, I know, but I trust the Martells less than the Lannisters. I had to keep them appeased and afraid to act. Betrothing Quentyn to Dany will do that, and Doran will say yes. He'd be a fool not to."

Jon supposed this was the best course of action. He had given some thought to this but not so much as his father, apparently. "But do you think the Martells will ever be satisfied, Rhaegar?" he asked him.

"No, they will not."

"Then why give them all of this?" asked Dany. "Oberyn as Hand and my own in marriage."

"After the Usurper's Rebellion, I needed my kingdoms to function," Rhaegar explained. "I had to quench the angry snakes in Dorne somehow, and Doran is a man of reason—I knew he'd agree to them. I thought them just for the death of his sister, yet what can satisfy that?"

"Then what will satisfy them?" Jon asked.

"Well," he said sadly, "I think the only thing that will is my death, Jon." King Rhaegar did not utter another word and turned to look out the window.

A/N: Well, there was my best at rationalizing why I didn't do the obvious at betrothing Jon to Arianne, and why I married Viserys to Cersei. I know it makes 1000% sense for Rhaegar to have betrothed Jon to Arianne, but I wanted Jon/San and chose to overlook it, hence the rationalization. Anyhow, I hope you're satisfied by said rationalizations. Even though I know they aren't perfect, I cannot rewrite this story. It's too late for that.

Thanks for those who read and praise, I appreciate it. And to those who offer criticisms I can work upon, I say thank you. No writer is perfect, I know, and by putting myself out there like this I expect my fair share of those who dislike the story. Thanks, regardless.

Next chapter will be out soon, won't take a year haha.

Also this is a Jon/Dany fic although it will come across as Jon/Sansa for most. Like other fics I've read where they say it's Jon/Arya or Jon/Dany, they both go back and forth until one parrying is decided upon in the end. It's like that with this one, too. Just because it seems to be going Jon/San right now doesn't mean it will ultimately be a Jon/San. It could be a Jon/Dany. They aren't done, yet.