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Chapter Text

The roar of cannon above and the muffled thumps from the balls coming aboard filled the darkened space. Jeyne was whimpering by her side but, though Sansa was frightened as well, she held her chin high and pretended it was only the soaking her boots were receiving which troubled her. It just didn’t seem possible that she’d been fast asleep not so long ago and dreaming of her golden prince. Perhaps her dream had merely transformed into a nightmare.

Shae waded through the murky, wretched bilge water swirling at their feet and took hold of their hands. “Come along, ladies! Better we face our death on deck than cower in this smelly hold. Otherwise, we’ll be the first to drown along with the rats when that pirate fills us full of cannonballs and the ship begins to sink.”

Nodding, they followed in the older girl’s wake. Shae was not a highborn lady like Sansa nor any sort of lady at all. She wasn’t even a proper lady’s maid or steward’s daughter like Jeyne either but she was far more experienced in practical matters than the younger girls so they would put their trust in her. Sansa supposed being chased by pirates qualified as a practical matter.

However, when they emerged on deck, Sansa wondered if Shae’s logic was very sound. The whole world was chaos here. The rowers were still rowing but that was only because that dreadful beast with his whip loomed over them. Other men were running about, shouting and shoving each other.

Their pursuer’s ship was steadily spitting out its deadly orbs. Splinters were flying and the best this crew had to respond with was a couple of stern chasers and some muskets. That hardly seemed fair of the enemy to come after them when they were so ill-equipped.

“It’s hopeless!” Jeyne cried and Sansa would be hard-pressed to disagree.

Sansa looked towards the stern of their ship where the grey hull and sails of their nemesis loomed, ever gaining like the proverbial wolf chasing down a lame sheep. To the east the sun was rising and the skies, though a garish red, were clear. There would be no escaping in the dark of night or a convenient fog, she feared.

Several of the sailors were discussing their pursuer within earshot.

“Tis that horrid Black Crow that’s caught us, lads!” one grizzled old hand said.

“We’m shark bait for certain if King Crow gets a’hold of us!” cried another.

“Keeps his hold full of Wildling cannibals who eat his captives alive, I hear. They’ll snap up our pretty passengers like duck eggs in sauce.” That was said by one of the master’s mates who seemed to enjoy making everyone’s flesh creep.

“What’ll we do, cap’n?” the first mate asked as a cannonball came tearing along the deck, men diving to avoid being knocked down like bloody ninepins.

Jeyne screeched and Sansa wrapped her arms around the girl, admonishing her to be brave. She suspected she was saying it for herself as much as Jeyne.

The captain hesitated for a few seconds, casting a glance their way before saying with no doubt a heavy heart, “We shall surrender and pray for quarter.”

He removed his hat and strode towards them as his mate ran off to lower their flag. Sansa felt sorry for Mr. Flowers. He would lose his fine galley. He had tried very hard she was sure and it was a pity that he was not to be victorious today. It’s a pity we’re all about to be prisoners, too.

He bowed to her. “You fought valiantly, captain,” Sansa told him with a curtsy, wishing to ease his conscience in the face of his failure. A smile which more closely resembled a grimace flickered. “Is that really a pirate’s ship?” she asked next.

Naturally, she’d heard of pirates. In the stories, they were often merciless rogues but, occasionally, there were stories of pirates that were different. They might be a knight in truth, forced in desperate times to take to the seas for some reason to defy an unfair duke or wicked nabob. Or they might even be a hidden prince, turning to a life of adventure to escape the cutthroat pressures of court. They might steal coin, treasure and maidens in those tales but there was never any real harm in them.

But, much as Sansa loved her stories, she’d read more factual accounts of pirates in her studies as well. Things were often far grimmer in those tales. She would have to be brave for Jeyne and Shae though she was only nine and ten. A lady was expected to look after those under her care in times of danger.

“That there’s the Black Crow, my lady, known for the black bird painted on her sails and, despite my crew’s colorful imaginings, I can’t say I’ve ever heard of King Crow actually cutting up captives for bait.”

“Is he really a king?”

“No, not unless pirates have kings of their own. I’ve heard him named Captain Crow but the White Wolf in other places. Anyway, while he may be a pirate at heart, he’s flying a Northern flag so that would make him a privateer, I believe.”

A privateer, a Northern one. Sansa’s heart started to pound with hope. She would reason with this man. She was of the North, too.

Are you though?

She had been beside herself with eagerness to go south as a girl. Her homeland was more rural, less cultivated and less given to finery than the south and she’d thought some cultivation and finery would suit her admirably. As soon as she’d learnt of her betrothal to Prince Joffrey, she’d been eager to see the rest of the land she would someday help her husband rule and know more of their ways.

As an agreed part of her extended journey south, she’d gone to her grandfather’s house first nearly two years ago to experience some society and a real Southern ball before she traveled onward to Kings Landing. She hadn’t wished to be a complete country mouse when she arrived at Court.

She had seen her share of balls and society and even a tourney of sorts like in days of old. It was all far grander than anything Winterfell ever hosted though it had not been quite as golden and delightful as she’d imagined when she’d been a girl staring out her window back home watching the snow fall and dreaming of sunny skies.

From her grandfather’s home, it had been intended that she would continue on to the capital after a time but her grandfather had fallen ill and Sansa, a dutiful girl and loving one, had stayed on for many moons nursing the poor dear man back to health until Queen Cersei had written saying she could not delay her duty to the Crown any longer.

But unfortunately, relations between the North and the Crown had soured most grievously in the interim and war had broken out after the untimely death of King Robert. Her golden prince had become King Joffrey, First of His Name, while Sansa had been at Riverrun closeted away with a sickly, old man, not knowing what was happening precisely in the wider world before receiving the queen regent’s summons.

The breach between North and South was terrible and no doubt some silly misunderstanding. Part of Sansa hoped that perhaps her and Joffrey’s wedding might bind the North and the rest of the kingdom together again. It would be so much more pleasant if men would get along and not fight. It would be so much more pleasant if that privateer had not swooped down upon them this morning to delay that from happening. She would have to explain it to the captain.

Or perhaps not…

“Milady,” Shae said, “if they learn your name, I cannot say whether it’ll go fair nor foul for you.”

Sansa’s mouth fell open. “Do you think they would harm me?”

“They are shooting cannons at us, milady. It’s safe to say they would harm every one of us.”

This was too true. They were firing upon them without knowing the name of a single person aboard, weren’t they? It was quite barbaric of them.

“But he flies a Northern flag and I am Lord Stark’s daughter.”

“Yes but there’s no way of knowing that ship or its captain’s intensions and when they learn you are Joffrey’s betrothed…”

Shae let that linger ominously and Jeyne gripped her hand. “Oh, she’s right, Sansa! Perhaps it would be best if you used another name until we know what sort of man this Crow is.”

“They may have a point, my lady,” the captain added. “I cannot claim an acquaintance with Crow so I cannot promise you anything but this…none of my men know your name, only that we are bound for Kings Landing and that you are our passengers. I will say nothing of your identity or these ladies’ if you think it best.”

Sansa swallowed hard in an attempt to settle her nerves and nodded to them all.

Captain Jon Snow paced the quarterdeck of his ship the Black Crow as they rode the breeze down to their quarry who had lowered their flag and stilled their oars at last. He hadn’t wished to open fire but they’d been uncommonly stubborn and senselessly attempted to outrun his far faster ship. Far, far faster on the wind. Only a dead calm would allow a slug like that galley to escape him.

“Crow! Crow!” came the usual raucous cry from high above in the mizzentop. “Snow! Crow! Corn! Corn! Corn!”

“Shut your squawking or I’ll never give you another kernel, you bloody bird,” Jon muttered as he raised his telescope.

The raven was always quick to cheer a victory and beg for his reward. He was a damned nuisance taken from another prize nearly four years ago and passed off on a younger, unsuspecting Jon.

“For you, my boy. Every pirate in those stories you used to read had a talking bird at some point, didn’t they? Here’s a lucky token for your first ship,” Uncle Benjen had declared when he’d passed him over with a sly grin.

At the time, being just shy of twenty, Jon had been too busy preening over his first command to realize Benjen had likely wanted rid of the ill-tempered thing.

It constantly pestered him at table and would grow peckish if it thought him guilty of being stingy over sharing and it squawked as it pleased by day and night unless Jon cried out ‘silence fore and aft!’ It was always flapping about the tops during a gale getting in the way of the men trying to adjust the sails but it would never fly off and be gone for good.

Jon might’ve driven it off or shot it ages ago but the seamen all claimed the raven brought good luck. It was true that they’d been extraordinarily lucky since Jon had become captain, something that made Jon rather uneasy since any seamen worth his salt knew that bad luck never lasted indefinitely and the opposite was true as well.

(And maybe Jon had grown a wee bit attached to the blasted bird in a way…not that he’d dare admit it.)

Anyway, no matter how the creature carried on, superstitious seaman that Jon was at heart, he would not tempt fate by ridding himself of his uncle’s gift. But someday, I’d dearly love to return it to Benjen.

Dismissing the raven from his thoughts, he noticed a fluttering of white aft of the rowers, far whiter than the ship’s dun-colored sails. The patch of white soon revealed itself to be two young ladies in white dresses, one holding on to the other. “Seven hells,” he said quietly before raising his voice to hail his first mate. “Davos, is the prize crew ready?”

“Aye, cap’n.”

Another young woman with dark hair in a serving woman’s dress stood with them. He studied the two young ladies and took note of their movements and which one seemed to be speaking the most.

“Who is leading it?” he asked Davos as he noted the redhead speaking earnestly to the other girl in white and the serving woman nodding.

“I’d thought to send…”

“You will lead it,” Jon said decisively before letting anyone’s name pass the lips of his first mate.

He did not wish to gainsay Davos, especially not on deck where the crew might overhear. Jon trusted most of his crew but there were a few rotten apples and women could make some seamen lose their heads in his experience. Davos was too old, too steady and too long a married man for such follies.

“Do you note the damage to their rudder there?” he asked, passing his telescope over. “The white patches especially.”

Davos leveled the telescope and hummed when he spotted them. “I do, cap’n.”

“Choose your crew wisely and bring the redhead to the cabin,” he finished in a murmur.

Davos suppressed a chuckle…barely. “Aye, cap’n. The ginger will await your company in the cabin.”

“She appears to be in charge,” Jon added, defending himself when there was no cause to. He was the captain, second only to the gods aboard his ship. And if he happened to be partial to redheads, that was really no one else’s concern.

However, despite his curiosity about the young ladies, the next few hours were exceedingly busy with a ship to commandeer and prisoners to see secured. The other two ladies were placed under guard in the storeroom, for their own protection. He did hear some sort of squawking not long after they were brought aboard the Crow but figured it was the raven carrying on like usual.

Near noon the fair skies did darken just as he’d expected from the red sky that morning. There was a squall to ride out and they needed to get clear of the land. It was nothing so troublesome as to endanger the crew, their ship or the prize but Jon was always on deck during foul weather whether it lasted an hour or three days. Thankfully, this lasted no more than a couple of hours.

The ship was still capering a bit on the waves when Jon made it to his private quarters at last, thoroughly soaked but in good spirits, and he found the girl he’d asked Davos to bring to him with glowing auburn hair fast asleep at his dining table.

His old friend the raven was with her, shuffling upon the table with his little bird feet and muttering about corn and snow, whilst pecking at what was left of the hard tack Jon had abandoned when the lookout had spied their quarry right before dawn.

“Quiet, you. Don’t disturb our guest,” Jon warned for she was indeed asleep.

He pulled a few kernels of dried corn from his pocket and set it down at the other end of the table to distract the bird so he might study his prisoner in silence for a moment.

Davos had said there’d been a bit of a dust-up between the serving woman and a couple of the men when they’d brought them aboard. Chett currently had himself a blackened eye. No doubt, he deserved it. Had this young lady offered any resistance to her capture as well? She didn’t look all that feisty as she slept despite the color of her hair.

He slipped into his sleeping compartment long enough to change out of his wet clothes into ones that were merely damp. He tied his hair back where the curls still dripped onto his shoulders and pulled on breeches, boots and shirt. As his coat was heavy with water since he’d failed to put on his tarpaulins at the start of the squall, he chose to leave it off.

When he stepped back out into the main cabin, he saw the young lady was still dozing. Her head was lying on her folded arms as she snored softly, all the worry chased from her features in her repose. She was beautiful, astonishingly beautiful, a fact his telescope had not completely missed but hadn’t shown fully either.

“Miss?” he said softly, more softly than he might’ve if he weren’t so disarmed by her beauty.

No response except what he would swear was a gurgling sound from her belly. Edd would be bringing dinner soon. Jon regretted he hadn’t thought of it sooner. He’d need to make sure the other two women were seen to.

Other than the lingering crumbs of his hard tack, there was the merest bit of an apple core left on the table. They’d picked them up days ago and they’d been mealy then. Hard tack and a measly apple, a very poor substitute for a noonday meal.

No doubt she was hungry though, Jon thought with his own belly rumbling.

He considered taking a seat to observe her at his leisure. She was finely dressed in her maidenly white dress with its lavender ribbon about the middle. The hem of it was soiled with what he would guess was bilge water, likely from this morning during the scrap of action that had occurred before the galley’s surrender.

She was probably some wealthy merchant’s daughter though the commander of the galley had merely referred to the women as passengers he’d been paid to take aboard on the Red Fork. Down the Trident, through the Bay of Crabs, around Crackclaw Point and into the Narrow Sea, they’d rowed their galley with their destination being Kings Landing. Was that the young lady’s final destination? He was curious about her and curious to learn the color of her eyes, too.

He rapped on the table with his knuckles and she bolted upright…with a paring knife in hand.

“You-you-you keep away from me!” she shrieked. “If you lay one finger on me, you’ll regret it!”

She proceeded to wave the knife about in a rather haphazard way. Clearly, she had never wielded a knife for anything more deadly than carving her mutton.

“What are you doing with that?” he laughed just as she struck. “Be careful!” he shouted, his good humor evaporating even though he easily dodged her clumsy attack. Her audible huff of vexation was far more endearing than it should be as she continued wildly slashing at the air between them. “Would you stop?!”

“No!”

“No, is it? Alright, then. This is for your own good before you hurt someone…probably yourself.”

“Wha-”

Her words were cut off when, quick as a snake, his hand closed around her wrist. He squeezed until she yelped and the knife clattered impotently to the deck at their feet. He looped his other arm around her slim waist, pulling her up against his chest to cease her frantic struggling. Apparently, she wanted that knife back.

Jon was half tempted to give it to her as he beheld the purest blue eyes he’d ever seen and started counting the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her teeth were white and he’d bet his ship that every inch of her skin would be as soft as the bit of her wrist he held. Her lithe young body squirmed against his, fueling very ungentlemanly thoughts that he did his best to ignore. She smelled sweet like the apple. No. She smelled sweeter…except for her bilge-dampened boots perhaps.

For a few precious heartbeats, they stood like that, him holding her and them gazing intently at one another, silent except for their labored breathing when she stopped struggling momentarily. What had he meant to say or ask her before she pulled that knife on him?

No matter. She found her voice again first.

“I’ll fight you, tooth and nail! I’ll claw your eyes out! I won’t let you ruin me!”

“Ruin you? Is that what you believe?”

“Don’t pretend otherwise! Your men told me what you do to maiden prisoners! You may overpower me in the end but not without a fight!” she cried, terror and anger mixed, making her chest heave as she spoke.

Gods, she was glorious but he didn’t want her to fear him. Some of the men thought themselves quite clever playing off their humors by terrifying their captives. Granted, it could be effective to keep a captive crew in check until they reached home waters, especially if their numbers were close to even. But Chett, Dirk, Clubfoot Karl and Sweet Donnel were the worst of them and they were the four he trusted the least around women. He’d put Davos in charge of the prize crew but should’ve said something about who was permitted to speak to the women once they were brought aboard the ship.

“I have no intentions of ruining you, miss.”

“Do you not?” she asked in disbelief.

“No!” But don’t give me ideas.

The ship gave an unexpected lee-lurch just then and, while Jon was more than used to it, the lady was not. She went from fighting him one instant to desperately clinging to him the next. “Oh gods! Are we going to sink?!”

“No, we’re not sinking,” he promised, allowing his hand to stroke her back in a gesture intended to comfort. She felt so warm under that pretty dress. “That’s just the Crow meeting a head sea, lass.”

Lass? I’m afraid I’m already full of ideas.

Faithfully proving him correct as always, the ship righted herself as quickly as she’d given them their thrill. However, as the young lady had just pulled a knife of him, Jon was still holding her tightly though the urge to keep wrestling in his arms had left her.

Realizing she was no match for him physically, she quickly adapted another tactic. “I demand you return me and the others to Mr. Flowers’ ship at once.”

“You demand, do you?” he chuckled.

“No, I…” Her eyes dropped to his chin though he didn’t think the fire in them had dimmed in the slightest when she said quite prettily, “Please, return me to Mr. Flowers’ ship, my lord.”

“I am no lord.” Though I liked you calling me that more than I should’ve.

“Please, captain? I’ll make sure you don’t regret it.”

Oh, she wanted to bargain now. “Mr. Flowers no longer has a ship, I’m afraid, since it is now mine so why would I do that?”

“You could give Mr. Flowers back his paltry little galley and be rid of us all. It’s not nearly so fine a ship nor anywhere near as fast as this one and you’re sure to find another prize.” Flattering his ship was certainly one way to win Jon over, he’d admit. “You’ll be rewarded with riches if you do. Isn’t that what pirates want?”

Clever girl. This might be fun. “I’m not a pirate anymore, strictly speaking.”

She tilted her head to the side, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth and pink lips. “No, you’re a privateer, aren’t you? That’s what Mr. Flowers said. You sail under a Northern flag and the galley flew a Southern one and thus was fair game under the articles of war. Forgive my ignorance of the sea and its ways but, though you sail for a cause, gold is still a privateer’s motivation, is it not?”

A very clever girl and Jon could not deny it. The men did as he bid them out of respect but also because they’d been successful on these cruises. They weren’t the navy. Pirate or privateer, if a captain couldn’t provide for a crew like this for very long, he’d quickly lose their confidence and perhaps his ship and his life as well.

“We fight for the North,” he said noncommittally, hating to admit she had him pegged.

“Free me and my…friends and you’ll be well compensated. I’m sure it will aid the North and its fighters, Captain Crow.” There was a hint of patronizing in her tone that he didn’t care for…and couldn’t begrudge her either.  "You are Captain Crow, are you not?"

“Crow! Crow! Snow!” the raven squawked.

“Shut up,” he mildly told the bird as the young lady continued to pierce him with those cerulean blue eyes of hers.

Crow or Snow, it made no difference aboard.

When he’d been younger, sailing with Benjen and sticking to home waters mostly, Ghost had been allowed to come along from time to time and the men had started teasingly calling Jon the White Wolf. But once he’d earned a fearsome reputation as a swordsman during fights, the name was no longer said in a teasing manner. As Jon ranged further from home though and took command of the Crow, it was no longer practical to bring Ghost with him and his dear friend was at Eastwatch being cared for by Benjen’s wife.

On the Crow, Pyp, Edd and Halder had started calling him Captain Crow because of the ship’s name and the raven. He’d let it stand as they’d taken on their crew. Plenty of pirates had names that weren’t necessarily their true name after all. Besides, Crow was better than a bastard’s name, he supposed.

“Aye, that’s me. I was not aware there was some hidden treasure aboard the galley that my men failed to find, miss. They told me they went over it quite thoroughly.”

“It’s not aboard. I’m betrothed to…to a very wealthy man. I’m to be wed when we reach Kings Landing. He will pay to see me delivered unharmed.”

“I’m to ransom you then, miss?”

“Whatever you would call it. But if you…your men suggested that you wanted me brought to your cabin so that…that I would not remain a maiden when I…I’m not sure my betrothed would…” Her words started to peter out as she grew distressed again.

“I assure you those men were mistaken. You have my word that you shall be delivered to your betrothed as you are now.” And I will name him a very lucky man and secretly loathe him.

“Your word as a pirate or a privateer?” she asked wryly. He liked her sauciness. Her eyes dipped down between them meaningfully. “And one who continues to hold me to him in a scandalously intimate manner at that despite my lack of resistance now. What a great comfort to me your word brings, I’m sure.”

Despite the way she had one ginger eyebrow cocked in a playful manner, he did not fail to notice that she was trembling somewhat.

“Forgive me. If you’ll promise not to gut me with my own paring knife…” he said, releasing his hold of her.

“Done,” she nodded as her lips twitched in amusement she could not quite conceal before she quickly moved away from him, putting the chair she’d been sitting in between them. He missed her warmth and softness in his arms at once.

“And, I’ll give you my word as captain and a seaman that you will not be touched by me again nor by anyone aboard against your wishes whilst you sail with us.”

“I should trust the word of a seaman, should I?”

He grimaced at her sarcasm. How many young ladies had taken the words of seamen over the years and been left with nothing but a swollen belly a few moons later? It has happened to his own mother, hadn't it?

“Well, I…it is the best I have to give you. I am no lord or knight to swear a vow to you but I am being honest when I say you will not be harmed whilst you are under my protection, lass.”

She pondered him thoughtfully before agreeing. “I accept your word, Captain Crow.” Her belly rumbled loudly just then and Jon watched her cheeks flush the loveliest shade of pink. “I do beg your pardon,” she said, mortified.

“No, no! Please, don’t apologize. It was never my plan to starve you.” He opened the cabin door to hail his servant. “Tollett! Tollett to the cabin!” The cry was taken up to be passed forward. “Would you care to dine with me, miss?”

“I don’t know if…” She chewed at her bottom lip and he suspected that she would like to. “I should see to it that my…friends are provided for. We hardly had the most hospitable experiences upon our arrival.”

“I’m sorry for that. You have my word that they will be fed and you will be returned to them after our meal.” A winsome smile but she still needed some convincing in order to delay seeing to her ‘friends.’ “We could discuss the terms of your exchange while we eat if you like.”

“My exchange?”

“Let us pray it may be a peaceful one if the Southerners know something of honor.”

“I believe Southern gentlemen rather pride themselves on their honor.”

“They’re full of pride, that’s for certain. Regardless, there’s protocols in place for such matters as this when it comes to exchanging non-combatant passengers. I’ve never captured a ship with young ladies aboard until today but it was always fully my intention to send you on your way from the start.”

“Your intention? You mean to tell me that you let me carry on with promises of riches and pleading for my…honor and…”

She spluttered for another few seconds, thoroughly vexed until he couldn’t help grinning at her and received an amused smile in return.

“I hope you’ll allow me to make it up to you over dinner, miss, and show you that I am capable of being a hospitable host.”

“Wouldn’t captor be a more fitting term?” she said, her smile still in evidence.

“Captor, then. I would not wish to quarrel with a lady, especially one I’ll be handing over forks and other utensils to soon enough. I should be leery of seeing you wield a spoon.”

That earned him some laughter and another blush. He was more than partial to those things already. “Very well, Captain Crow. I’ll share a meal with you.”

“Thank you and my name is Jon.” Why had he wanted to tell her his first name?

“Jon,” she repeated softly. Oh, that’s why! He loved hearing her say it. He loved the way she looked rather flustered the next moment as they waited for Edd to appear, too. “You know, I don’t believe I would’ve actually stabbed you earlier. I’m not sure I’m capable of doing such a thing.”

“With the right provocation, you might be surprised by the things you’re capable of.” His amusement faded somewhat as he pictured an occasion where she might find herself in true danger and in need of a knife. He hoped it would never occur. “But I do swear you are safe with me, Miss…”

“Ss-Poole. Sansa Poole.”

Sansa. A lovely name. A beautiful girl. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Sansa Poole.”

“Thank you, Captain Jon Crow,” she said, dipping into a graceful curtsy.

Jon nearly corrected her but didn’t as he made his best attempt at a bow. Instead, he hurriedly clasped his hands together behind his back to keep from acting on the intense desire to reach for her hand or hold her to him again. Gods, he was as bad as some of the men.

Completely laid by the lee by a pretty face. Benjen would threaten you with a dozen lashes if he knew your wicked thoughts after promising her safe passage.

Thankfully, before Jon did anything to incite the ire of his absent uncle, Edd arrived, saying in his peevish tone that vittles would be served up directly this minute.

Chapter Text

After her surprisingly pleasant meal with Captain Crow, Sansa was being led to the little storeroom in the hold of the ship where the other women waited by Edd Tollett who acted as the captain’s servant though he’d proudly told her he was also one of the gun captains during battles.

“And do you enjoy sailing with Captain Crow?”

“Aye, he’s a good cap’n and a friend.”

“You’ve known him a good while then?”

“That I have, miss. Watch yer head.”

Sansa asked Edd if he’d been in many battles with the captain. He tugged at his gold hoop earring and said a fair few but not many lately.

“Why, lately, it seems like as soon as they see that black bird on our sails, they’re ready to heave to and be boarded without so much as a peep.”

“I believe it. The crew of the galley had us quite frightened with tales before we even surrendered on top of the cannons firing.”

“Yeah, sorry for that. Cap’n didn’t want to open fire.”

“Didn’t he?”

“No, not if he can avoid it. Why damage a prize? Only makes for more toil getting ‘er home.”

“He could’ve just let us go.”

“Maybe but what kind of privateersman does that? I’ll tell you what kind. A poor one.” Edd chuckled to himself at his jape but Sansa couldn’t disagree with the logic.

“True. But when we came aboard earlier, some of the men here had other tales to tell. Some were rather upsetting…”

Tollett looked thoughtful. “Don’t mind ‘em, miss. Words are wind and some of ‘em are right hard cases and no fit company for ladies. But Jon ain’t near so bad as ‘em. He ain’t perfect but, if you give him a chance, you’ll see he’s a good man.”

Sansa's instincts were saying much the same though she didn't know how readily to trust them.  She didn't truly know Captain Crow despite their time in each other's company this afternoon.  Edd's loyalty to his captain might stem from self-interest.  But there was something about Jon which made her want to trust her instincts with regards to him and believe he was the good man Edd claimed he was. 

He was a little gruff but perhaps no more so than the men she grew up knowing at Winterfell before her days at Riverrun had introduced her to a more polished set of knights and gentlemen.  She'd learnt in time that those polished manners sometimes concealed a good deal of conceit or even darker hearts. 

Obviously, Jon had received some formal education based on the handful of books and neatly written captain's log she'd found in his quarters when she'd been left waiting before her nap.  She hadn't meant to snoop since that was hardly ladylike but it did grow dull waiting and she was naturally curious. 

He had also traveled a good deal she gathered during their discussions about lands and seas Sansa had never seen over their meal. Of course, he was employed in a barely reputable enterprise and had no shame over admitting he’d been engaged in piracy before that. But, he had shown her kindness even after the incident with the knife and was obviously striving to be a conscientious captor.

So, not a gentleman in the strict sense which Sansa had grown up understanding the term but then again, that could be said of many Northmen.

And he was a Northman, through and through, from his mannerisms to his accent. She found that she had missed the sound of it, or maybe that was Jon who made it sound so appealing to her ears.

Especially when he called me lass.

Careful. Enough of that now.

Still, she should like to think well of him. If Jon were ever captured and brought before Joffrey for his crimes, Sansa would not be ashamed to make a plea on his behalf even.

A strange daydream started to spin itself before her eyes of her begging her golden prince to spare the sailor who had once shared his dinner with her and Joffrey agreeing and Jon being eternally grateful and smiling at her.

Somehow though, it made her uncomfortable and she put the thought away to take in their destination. It was quite smelly and dim down here with only Edd’s lantern lighting the way. She would swear she’d just heard a chirping sound or a squeak…like a rat.

“It’s awfully dark.”

“Aye, and it’ll be darker still within the storeroom with only the grating above yer heads for light.”

“There’s not even a candle within?!” she gulped. She hated to confess that the thoughts of being locked in a room with no light while the ship rocked and groaned with its constant movement on the sea terrified her.

“We don’t keep naked flames burning aboard, miss. What if it were knocked over and caught fire? What if it spread to the magazine?” Edd made a gesture with his hands, blew out his cheeks with a great whooshing noise and Sansa took his point.

“A lantern then? We’ll be vigilant keeping it away from anything flammable.”

“Nearly everything aboard is flammable between the sails and ropes, tar and wood but I ‘pose I could ask the cap’n if…but we can’t have you girls setting the ship on fire just to escape and getting us all killed,” he finished with a look of frank suspicion.

“That would certainly be folly as the captain has already told me he plans to see us exchanged. Please, do ask him for me, Mr. Tollett?” she begged, hoping her courtesy might sway Edd as it had seemed to sway Jon (even if he was planning to exchange them all along.)

He did seem to stand a little straighter at being addressed as ‘Mister Tollett.’ “Well, I ‘pose it wouldn’t hurt none for me to ask.”

Edd unlocked the door, calling out to the others that he was bringing Miss Poole back and Sansa was ushered inside. The lantern’s cheerful light soon left them though as the door closed behind them and she heard the key in the lock.

“Oh, Sansa! What was the captain like? Was he the beast they claimed him to be?” Jeyne asked breathlessly the instant they could no longer hear Edd’s footsteps leading him away.

“Did he touch you? Hurt you? Take your, um…maiden’s gift?” Shae asked, looking her over in the half-light provided by the grating above.

Sansa suspected Shae might’ve been even blunter if Sansa and Jeyne hadn’t been such sheltered girls. She could feel her cheeks growing hot at the implication all the same. It wasn’t entirely discomfort at the notion that brought the blush about either, she feared.

“The captain a beast? No, not at all. He was quite gentlemanly.”

“Gentlemanly?! A pirate?! Really, Sansa!” Jeyne exclaimed.

“He’s not a pirate. He’s a privateer and…well, he was.”

Not a gentleman by some standards perhaps but a gentleman in the ways that mattered. A Northern gentleman, she told herself.

They were both looking at her queerly as if she’d grown a second head so she decided not to expand too much on their meeting beyond what was important.

“We’re to be exchanged on Dragonstone under a flag of truce in a few days time. With the winds in our favor, Jon…I mean, Captain Crow says he believes we’ll make good time.  From there, we’ll be taken on to Kings Landing by one of the cartel ships of the navy. I’ll go to marry Joffrey and we'll carry on as if none of this ever happened.”

But it had happened and Sansa wondered if she might wind up more deeply impacted by meeting the privateer than was wise.

She had always had a romantic disposition and suddenly, the golden prince she’d never met but long dreamt of didn’t seem so appealing as the soft-spoken rogue with dark curls and grey eyes she’d just met, the one who had quietly sang a sea shanty to his raven to get it to settle while they ate. “He’s the greatest nuisance otherwise,” he’d sheepishly explained as she’d hid behind her napkin in an attempt to control her giggles.

Sansa had been reared to be a dutiful daughter and when her parents had come to her when she'd been eleven and told her the happy news of her betrothal she'd only asked when she might become a princess.  At the time, she'd been too caught up in the romance of the notion to consider all that it would entail...and all it would entail leaving behind.

Gods, she missed them all so dearly. Did they miss her at all?  With the war, she'd not received a letter from her family in a long while and doubted they'd received any of hers.  Her poor grandfather had been a bit addled during his illness and she'd not troubled him with her worries so she'd sang her songs and said her prayers and told herself all would work out in the end.  She was meant to marry Joffrey and that was that. 

Except now, her mind was filled with this other man.  Was she not as good of a girl as she meant to be?  Was she in fact a bad, inconstant girl?

“Did he suspect your ruse?” Jeyne whispered, drawing Sansa from her guilty reflections.

It had been agreed between them right before their captors came aboard that she would be Sansa Poole. She’d nearly faltered when it had come time to tell him her name though.

“No, he didn’t suspect anything, I don’t believe. I told him I am Sansa Poole and you are my younger sister and we’re sailing to Kings Landing since I am betrothed to a wealthy merchant and you’re going with me to perhaps make a match of your own.”

Even in the near darkness, she could see Jeyne blushing prettily at that and Sansa hoped she would find a match for her friend there, someone worthy of her.

“I told him Shae is our serving woman since there was no need to lie about that.” And Jon had admitted making that distinction from a distance with only his telescope. A sharp and observant man.

Shae nodded with approval. “It’s best to keep a lie as close to the truth as possible. What else did Jon tell you, milady?”

Sansa did not miss Shae’s use of his first name which she had let slip earlier nor the amused tone in which she emphasized it. Shae was sharp and observant, too.

“Nothing else of much importance. And you must address me as miss in case we’re overheard.”

“As you say, miss. You were gone a long time.”

“He was busy with the ship after we were brought aboard what with the frightful storm and all. I fell asleep when it had finally died down and then, when I woke, he was there and asked if I would eat dinner with him.” See, not technically a lie. “Have you both eaten?”

“We have,” Jeyne said. “It was no worse that the fare aboard the galley and I’m glad they brought it to us before it got so dreadfully dark in here.”

“Yes, it is quite dark. I’ve asked for a light.”

But the sun would be setting soon and any filtered light from above would be gone. If Edd did not ask or was refused a lantern for them, it would be many hours in the dark. At least she was not alone.

But it’s not just us in here, Sansa thought as she heard another squeak. Her dinner was no longer sitting so well on her tummy as a trickle of irrational fear started to assault her. And Jeyne will be worse. Her companion was quite given to hysterics at times.

“Shall we pray for a peaceful resolution to this war and that Joffrey has wise counselors helping him during these times and that our families are safe, ladies?”

Jeyne nodded piously and Shae did her best to keep from smirking. Meanwhile, Sansa refused to feel guilty over the things she had not told them. She’d said enough, hadn’t she? She had told them the essentials anyway.

No need to mention pulling a knife on him since he’d disarmed her in embarrassingly easy fashion. She was still rather shocked by her own boldness. Where had that come from?

No need to mention how she’d shamelessly clung to him when the deck has shifted beneath her for that matter.

Certainly, no need to mention how she’d kept clinging to him, breathing in the musk and saltwater of his skin like fresh air until good sense finally reasserted itself and she’d said something at last. No reason to mention her sense of loss when he had released her with an apology either.

And obviously, there was no need to mention how sweet he was with that talking raven of his which he claimed to dislike even as he fed it bits of corn from his hand and sang his shanty for it. “Safe and sound at home again, let the waters roar, Jack.”

No need to mention how handsome he was either. A privateer in his shirt sleeves and breeches, muscular but graceful and quick in his movements with his long curly hair tied back in a queue and his soulful dark eyes that seared her with their intensity when they stared at one another and…

Sweet Maiden, Sansa. Get a hold of yourself. You’re to be wed soon!

Captain Crow was decidedly dashing but she would marry Joffrey and their marriage might end a war. She would forget about Jon once this voyage was over. She could not permit herself to feel any attraction towards another man. That would be wicked and the gods might punish her for it.

All the same, she felt a flutter in her tummy and a tightening somewhere lower when there was a rap on the door a few minutes later and, only expecting Edd with a lantern, she gasped to discover the captain standing before her. He’d put on his coat and hat which only enhanced the dashing element. He was also holding out a lantern with the raven perched upon his shoulder.

“Snow! Crow! Fool!” the bird squawked while Jon gave her an uncertain smile.

“Miss Poole,” he said with a bow. “I hope you and your companions are all well.”

“Well enough, Captain. Permit me to introduce you. This is my sister Jeyne.”

Jeyne curtsied to him and Sansa was relieved she had not forgotten their feigned relation even if she felt a tinge of guilt for lying to him now. What would he say if she told him the truth of who she was and who her intended was? She decided she was not entirely prepared to find out.

“And this is our servant, Shae. Ladies, this is Captain Jon Crow.”

“Crow! Snow! Fool!” the raven sang out loudly.

She would swear he grimaced for a second before bowing once more with a solemn, “Ladies, it is my pleasure to meet you but I apologize for any concerns or inconveniences our meeting may have brought you.”

Shae cracked her knuckles. “I apologize for any harm done your man.”

Jon started chuckling. “He’ll survive, ma’am, and let us hope you knocked some sense into him.” Looking over his shoulder, Sansa saw Edd grinning at them all as the captain continued, “You’re quite right, Tollett. This storeroom is not proper quarters for our guests at all.”

“Are we guests then?” Sansa couldn’t help but ask in a teasing manner, enjoying that she could make him laugh as easily as Shae and that his eyes were solely resting on her again and alight with pleasure.

“Guests with no place else to go whilst we sail along if you’ll allow, Miss Poole.”

“Almost like captives one could say though I’ll permit the use of the term guests.”

“You are too kind and, while I cannot promise the bread won’t be moldy, I don’t plan on keeping you under lock and key any longer. Tollett, have my cot lowered sufficiently to allow for Miss Poole to climb into it easily and see to it that two more hammocks are slung in the great cabin for Miss Jeyne and this good woman.”

“Aye-aye, cap’n.”

“What does that mean, Captain?” Sansa asked as the fluttering in her tummy started rising in her chest and settling nearer her heart.

“I cannot possibly leave the three of you locked away here for the next few days as we sail for Dragonstone. I’m giving over my cabin to you. It’ll be more suitable quarters for you and I’ll be able to ensure your well-being more readily that way.”

“But where will you be sleeping, ser?” Shae asked Jon before giving Sansa a none-too-subtle nudge that made her wits scatter and her cheeks flush.

“I’ll sling a hammock forward nearer the men, ma’am. And I’m no knight. Just a simple seaman who would hate to leave you ladies with a poor opinion of his hospitality. I believe your dunnage has been brought over from the galley in case you have need of anything,” he said with his eyes flitting to her soiled hem and boots.

“Thank you, captain,” she heard herself say softly.

“Shall we go?”

He offered Sansa his arm when she nodded and she held on tightly with it being dark and her unused to her surroundings. Not at all because she wanted to feel the warmth of him again beneath his woolen coat. 

But as he led the three of them to his cabin, that fluttering in her chest only grew stronger.

Chapter Text

Ten miles south of Claw Island, the ship was sailing along under fair skies with a following sea as Jon was enjoying the novelty of entertaining female guests over breakfast on the third day of them being aboard, not that he flattered himself as being terribly entertaining.

Yes, he had readily turned over his cabin to them the evening after they’d arrived and been prepared to continue eating his oatmeal and ship’s biscuit drowned in coffee along with his men but, as the three of them had remained closeted together the entirety of their second day aboard, he’d begun to wonder if they’d thought they were not welcome on deck.

Miss Poole had claimed ignorance of the ways of the sea and they had originally been set under lock and key. It was for their own safety but they might not have realized it. Regardless, Jon didn’t want them to feel like prisoners aboard even if they couldn’t just leave at will. Also, he was itching for another opportunity to see and speak with Sansa.

Thus, he had invited the ladies to take the air on deck the following day as they pleased, weather permitting, and in return Sansa had passed word back via Edd that she hoped the captain did not think he was barred from his own cabin and table at all times simply due to their presence.

“By which Miss did say as to how you should probably knock first ‘afore entering, cap’n.”

“What might I see if I don’t?” he’d replied with a wolfish leer he’d been sure Edd would recognize as feigned. Mostly feigned anyway.

Edd’s mouth had drawn up into pursed disapproval like a dried up old septa tasked with guarding a maiden’s vault and facing a host of randy sailors at the gate before he’d sniffed and answered with, “Which it might be best if you was to wait until Miss sends for you directly and perhaps Mr. Seaworth might be invited along for the sake of propriety an’ all.”

“Seven hells, Edd! I will certainly knock and what the devil do you know about propriety anyway?!” he’d roared, finding himself intolerably vexed at being as good as chastised when he’d seen nearly every other man aboard, including Edd, chase anything in skirts when they were in port and had a few ales in their bellies.

Edd had not been remotely cowed by his captain’s ire. Jon had given orders that no one was to enter the cabin without his permission or the ladies’ and, since Edd was seeing to their meals and such, it was not surprising the dour, older man had appointed himself their guardian.

Even so, it had been agreed that Jon would join the ladies this morning and play host as they broke their fast. Davos had been invited though for the sake of Edd’s ‘propriety.’ “Lest you come down in a fit of vapors or something otherwise,” Jon had told him.

He was thankful that instead of the usual hardtack to go along with whatever the hens offered, he was able to provide something closer to a feast for the ladies this morning as they had met with a crabber near the crack of dawn and wound up trading for his catch.

“I thought pirates took whatever they pleased,” Shae said with acerbity as Edd carried in the crab claws rolled in crumbs and seasoning and fried up fresh along with the eggs. “Why bother paying or trading for something when you could just take it?”

“Don’t insult our host, Shae,” Miss Jeyne begged with wide, frightened eyes as Sansa watched the exchange curiously.

“Are you insulted by my words, captain?”

She was spirited, he’d grant her, as well as a snapping black-eyed beauty. He’d encountered his share of women like Shae in ports too numerous to count all along the Narrow Sea. However had she come to serve these two young ladies? He’d wager she had stories to tell that could curl their hair if she chose to share them.

Nevertheless, he would not be put off by her blunt questions despite his gnawing and irrational desire for Sansa to think well of him.

“No, ma’am, and I’m sure you have a valid point but my uncle always paid for or traded with the smallfolk and fishermen for their goods. No use in starving those already struggling to survive when there are always fatter fish in the sea for the likes of us.”

“A generous pirate then,” Shae smirked.

“I suppose you could say that though I don’t claim we’re septons or anything. But, I grew up in the home of my uncle near Eastwatch, a good man and seaman who I wanted nothing so much as to be like. My mother died when I was eight and I started going to sea with him not long after that. He was not always a pirate though. There were circumstances that brought that about. Anyway, he’s always fought for the North and its people in some form or fashion and he has shaped my respect for those things with his words when I would listen and his belt when I would not.”

“A good man raised by a good man?” Sansa asked.

“I hope so, miss.”

He wanted her to think him a good man. In truth, he might want much more than that.

Perhaps Edd was wise to suggest Davos be present along with the other two ladies. It might keep him from lunacy when Jon knew his attraction for Sansa was in danger of developing into something more closely resembling a tendre.

But, with the wind in their favor, they were bound to reach Dragonstone in three days more at most. He was already dreading their parting.

Stop your bellyaching. Enjoy today and stop worrying over tomorrow. Make hay while the sun shines as Benjen would say.

It was a sound philosophy for those who lived much of their lives upon an uncertain element like the sea and in such an uncertain time.

Mealtimes and conversation could offer a pleasant diversion in a seagoing life filled with a great deal of monotony barring the sea’s occasional extremes or spurts of action they might run across. He could certainly get used to seeing Sansa at his table.

However, basking in her radiant beauty first thing as she was seated across from him in another maidenly white gown, this one with a blue ribbon at the waist and neckline the exact shade of her lovely eyes, had left Jon fumbling to recall his table manners or even make coherent conversation.

“Snow! Corn! Crow! Fool!”

At least one member of the crew was never at a loss for words.

Jon had indeed been cursing himself for a fool in the cabin after that first meal with Sansa, knowing all too well that any burgeoning attraction was sure to be one-sided. She was betrothed after all.

Speaking of her intended, that lucky well-off merchant in Kings Landing, had they ever met? Or was it purely an arranged matter? Was he young or old? An honorable man or a louse? Would he bed his maiden bride at the conclusion of the wedding feast without regard to her feelings in the matter or give the girl a chance to get to know him first?

Based on her trembling fear of ruination at his hands originally, Sansa certainly struck Jon as the kind of young lady that would prefer some easing into such a thing to being roughly tumbled at the first opportunity.

Would the man fall at her feet the moment he met her and thank the gods for gifting him with such a girl? Or was he the world’s greatest fool who might take her for granted or even keep a mistress? What if he was unkind to her?

Such was the unhappy bent of Jon’s thoughts when left to himself for too long of late.

Like any of it makes a difference in your case.

The sort of society she came from wouldn’t consider him fit to wipe her boots. Whether pirate or privateer, a bastard seaman with no land and little personal fortune may as well aim for a lord’s daughter as Miss Sansa Poole for a wife. Both would be far beyond his reach.

Sansa for a wife?! Are you mad? You’d never make a proper husband to a girl like her. The best you can ever hope for is a pretty tavern wench to tumble like Ros or a spitfire pirate’s daughter like Ygritte.

“Corn! Fool! Wench!”

“Please excuse his lack of manners,” Jon said on behalf of his raven.

Miss Jeyne was laughing heartily into her napkin at the bird’s nonsense. She was a sweet enough girl but her laughter had a bit of a braying sound to it which was not to Jon’s liking so early.

Pyp had declared Miss Jeyne a great beauty last night when Jon had been on the verge of dozing off in his hammock in the smelly, crowded seamen’s berth. He could not quite agree though he’d said nothing. She was a pretty girl with her dark hair and brown eyes but she couldn’t hold a candle to her older sister. Did they share the same mother? It was hardly his business.

“Does your raven have a name, Captain Crow?”

“A name, Miss Jeyne? No, he doesn’t have a proper one to my knowledge. The man my uncle took him off of was a Mormont though so we called him Mormont’s raven for a time.”

“Mormont?” Sansa asked. “Was he related to the Mormonts of Bear Island?”

He narrowed his eyes, directing his attention her way as she visibly paled and took a hasty bite of her eggs. Not many Southerners knew much of Bear Island, small and inconsequential as it was to their interests beyond timber, nor the ruling clan there from his experience. Was she truly from the Riverlands as she claimed? Was she actually Northern? There had been a time or two she had almost sounded Northern.  Was she something other than what she presented herself as?  

Come to think of it, her education exceeded what he would've expected from a merchant’s daughter, even a very wealthy one. Based on the amount of dunnage the men had hauled over from the galley, she had an extensive trousseau for the would-be bride beneath the rank of the gentry or even nobility. 

But if she was Northern or something more than she claimed why would she not tell him as much? As a Riverlander, she was nominally his captive until her exchange. A Northern girl would’ve been taken straight to White Harbor or Widow’s Watch as the tide served.

She was still busy with her eggs and not meeting his eye. He shoved aside his curiosity for the moment to answer. “Yes, he’s some disinherited son or other of the clan's chief and a bloody slaver to boot.”

“A slaver? That’s abominable. Is he an acquaintance of yours?”

“In a sense,” Jon hedged uncomfortably, not wishing to delve into the old vendettas of his uncles.

“Of course, I had heard most pirates engaged in slavery when it suited their interests. I hope that is not true of this ship, Captain Crow.”

Her eyes were no longer on her eggs. They were looking at him dead on with some curiosity…and perhaps condemnation. Guilty by association.

You could’ve clarified that you’re not amiably acquainted with Jorah.

It stung to see disappointment in Sansa’s eyes far more than Shae’s questions over the crabber’s haul earlier. Why was that? You know why.

“It most certainly is not true of this ship, Miss Poole.”

“But you have made Mr. Flowers and his men your prisoners.  You keep them locked in the hold.”

“Prisoners are not slaves and, while it's unfortunate for Mr. Flowers and his men, such are the fortunes of war.  II can hardly allow them to rise up and take my ship from me in the night, can I?"

"No, but the rowers..."

"The rowers were given the option to row the galley to White Harbor under my prize crew for their wages or be locked up with their officers."

"Not much of an option."

"Whether they row to Kings Landing or White Harbor, I doubt it makes a great deal of difference to them, miss," he said as his voice grew in volume.  "The rowers are seamen but also smallfolk.  I hardly think the disagreements between kings and high lords matter as much to them as being left in peace to live their lives."  She drew breath to say something but he cut her off.  "Mr. Flowers and his mates sail with us for now but shall be taken to White Harbor to be exchanged for Northern sailors or soldiers captured in the war."

Her expression grew chagrined.  "I was not aware of that."

"They would be on their way there already if not for the fact I wished to see you ladies safely delivered to your destination first.”

"Oh."  She obviously regretted that she was the cause for the delay of the other men’s release or perhaps it was the harsh edge in his voice. He was well aware of his tendency to grow snappish when he was feeling defensive.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't..."

“But if the war should be concluded tomorrow and we were aware of it by some magical means like an oracle, I'd set them ashore on Dragonstone the same as you though the galley would remain a prize taken during the course of hostilities. My men have a right to eat after all and some of them like Davos here have families to provide for. Either way, as we have discussed, I am a privateer and slavery is forbidden aboard privateers. The lords outlawed it over a century ago but I have never at any time engaged in the practice of it,” he finished gruffly.  

She ducked her chin and gave him a contrite nod though he was no longer feeling angered by her assumption, just sad and angry with himself that he had allowed his temper to get the best of him.

She was a guest and a young lady with no experience of the ways of the sea.  She could not know the harsh judgments he'd faced all his life due to his birth or choice of vocation.  And if he might grow prickly in his pride upon occasion, Jon was no tyrant who would not tolerate opposing views, opinions or even a difficult question or two. She could speak her mind and ask questions same as Shae or any man aboard. Plenty of pirates and sell sails did atrocious things. He knew it too well. Privateers and even the navy might as well if they were not commanded by scrupulous men and not being watched too closely.

Speaking of being watched, everyone at table was looking between him and Sansa with wide eyes and turning heads as if they were engaged in some match on a tennis lawn.  

"Miss Poole, please permit me to apologize for growing heated just now.  It was not my intention to quarrel or grow so snappish in response to your questions.  You must think me terribly inhospitable now."

"Not at all, captain.  I did not mean to offend you."

"You did not, not truly.  My uncle says some of our family has ice in their veins while some possess a more fiery temperament, the wolf's blood as he likes to call it.  I've been told I'm a bit of both though I tend to be quick-tempered over something I feel passionate about."

"You need not apologize for you passion, captain," she said, graciously.  "I have my views and you have yours, I'm sure, but I am pleased to learn they coincide in this instance.  I cannot speak to there being fire nor ice in your veins as I would suggest perhaps they are filled with salt water instead," she added with a pert grin.

"Ha!  Salt water!  You have him there, miss!  Very good!" Davos cried as Miss Jeyne tittered and even Shae could not contain her laughter.  

"Indeed, you have me figured out, miss," Jon chuckled whilst knowing he was in greater danger than ever of falling for her.  Wishing to regain some of their earlier cordiality, he returned to the original topic. “So, the raven has no true name as he gets peckish when I call him Pestilence, Nuisance or Croaker.” Miss Jeyne’s cackles were joined by her sister’s quieter giggles this time, a far more melodious sound to Jon’s ear. “Mostly, I just call him Bird, offer him corn and sing to him when his feathers are ruffled to avoid getting pecked.”

More laughter and he gave Sansa a gentle smile, hoping she had fully forgiven him his earlier lapse in manners. She seemed willing enough…with a condition perhaps.

“I should like to hear you sing to him again, Captain.”

“I should like to hear you sing to him, lass.”

She bit down on her plump bottom lip as her cheeks blossomed with color. “We could sing a duet mayhaps,” she suggested as the rest of their company was completely forgotten by Jon when she passed the coffee pot his way.

“Half of it would be quite harmonious, I’m sure,” he said with a playful wink.

“And the other half?”

“I fear Croaker might suit me for a name as readily as the raven.”

“I refuse to agree with you there,” she said, grinning. “Would you care for some sugar, Captain?”

Your sugar? Yes, please. “No, I will drink it like this, Miss Poole.”

They were short of sugar at present and, based upon the amount he’d seen Sansa add to her tea at dinner the other night and her coffee this morning, he wouldn’t wish for them to run out before they reached Dragonstone.

She nodded, apparently considering her next words for a moment. “You may call me Sansa if you like.”

He would dearly love to call her Sansa, especially if he might hold her in his arms once more.

She started to blush over her boldness as the other three heads at table turned their way. What had prompted it? It was hardly usual for a young lady to ask a man she was not related to or who was not well known to her family to call her by her first name. Even Jon with his somewhat irregular rearing knew that.

“It would be my pleasure, Miss Sansa.” Her lips twitched at his addendum but it could not be helped. His heart was in very great danger when it came to this girl, something he normally guarded quite rigorously. He would have to keep some semblance of propriety as Edd would say. “Are you ready to join me then?”

“Ready to join you?” she asked, confused.

Her confusion cleared the next moment when he launched into the shanty from the other day once more to the raven’s delight.

“Snow! Snow! Sing!”

The other two ladies were content to be their audience but Davos joined in, his deep bass complimenting Sansa's lovely contralto more than Jon's miserable croaking ever could.  And even Edd who had returned with another pot of coffee joined in the refrain:

“Long we’ve tossed on the rolling main, now we’re safe ashore, Jack.

Don’t forget yer old shipmates, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!”

Before Miss Jeyne and Shae could be taught the words for the next round, there was a hail from the lookout high above brought below by the breeze and carried through the cabin’s skylight.

“Sail ho! Two points off larboard bow!”

Like setters on a duck, Jon, Davos and Edd stiffened, straining to hear what would follow. An enemy? Prey? A friend?

“Looks like Sea Wolf, boys!” he heard a minute later, distinguishing Pyp’s voice.

Jon broke into an enormous grin as he begged the ladies’ pardon and darted up on deck, ordering a signal to be made. When the expected reply to his signal was visible in his telescope confirming that Pyp had been correct, Jon told two men on deck to ready a boat so he could pay a call on his uncle.

And perhaps unload our prisoners. But not the ladies.

Benjen might have other plans for him but Jon would beg if he must in order to keep Sansa aboard a few more days. If that’s all we’re to have, so be it. Let me have that at least.

An hour later though, Jon’s smile had completely vanished once Benjen had shared his unhappy tidings.

Chapter Text

It was windy and chilly up on deck after the snugness of the cabin the past day but Sansa was no longer cold.

“Here, lass. It’s a mite parky out with the breeze but it don’t bother me,” Jon had told her, wrapping a boat cloak around her shoulders. He’d caught her shivering on deck right before he’d climbed over the side into the bobbing boat below to be rowed across to the other ship and had given her his cloak.

Like a knight in a story of old swearing a vow to his lady love and symbolically bringing her under his protection by wrapping her in his cloak.

Stop being so silly, Sansa. He was merely being gentlemanly.

All the same, Sansa burrowed herself deeper in its voluminous folds where she stood at the taffrail, covertly inhaling the scent of its owner with more pleasure than was proper.
She should’ve grabbed her bonnet to keep her hair from blowing in her face. But Jon had remarked during their dinner the other day that the wildlings far to the north considered red hair lucky when she’d noticed him gazing at hers rather intently.

“We seamen are as superstitious as cats and are always on the watch for good luck tokens,” he’d said with a fetching grin.

Therefore, she’d decided to leave her hair down for breakfast this morning. No harm in that, surely. Perhaps some of the other members of the crew, even those dreadful men who had been so rude upon their arrival, might consider her lucky hair color and behave more courteously today.

But mostly you wanted Jon to gaze at you that way again, wicked girl.

And what if I did?

You’re betrothed to Joffrey!

She pursed her lips and peered up at the sun shining brightly through the sails next. Her skin was sure to freckle or burn if she stayed out here too long. Her old septa had come from the South and always lamented over creamy complexions such as Sansa’s when they spent too much time in the southern sun.

But with the freshening breeze whipping her skirts about and Jon’s cloak making her feel safe somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to leave the deck for even a moment to retrieve her bonnet as she relished this indescribable sense of freedom standing here (once she’d found her sea legs) as the ship rode the waves in such a stately manner.

She wouldn’t ask her companions to fetch it for her either as a young seaman had shyly approached Jeyne a few minutes ago. They were currently having a quiet conversation forward by the rail under Shae’s watchful eye. He was not devastatingly handsome like Captain Crow perhaps but he was sweet enough to look upon.

“Pyp! Go see to that bowsprit and leave the ladies be!”

“Aye-aye, Mr. Seaworth!” the poor sailor said, his rather large ears turning scarlet as Jeyne’s cheeks were doing the same.

He gave Jeyne a gangly bow before hurrying off as Sansa scowled at Mr. Seaworth for interrupting. Mr. Seaworth was oblivious though, merely returning to his instructions. She did want to try out his telescope so she ceased her scowling and listened.

“My glass isn’t so fine as the cap’n’s but it’ll do. If you’ll hold it like so, miss, and place it…there you go. You can adjust that knob.”

“Oh, I see him!” she remarked when Jon came into focus. Gods, Sansa. Can you not be even a little subtle? “I mean, I can see the other ship quite well now. Thank you, Mr. Seaworth.  It's a very fine looking ship, isn't it?"

"That it is, miss.  One of my boys is a mate aboard her.  Don't see 'em on deck at present or I'd point 'em out."

With that, the first mate became engaged in some nautical discussion with one of the hands at the wheel so Sansa quietly studied the deck of the other ship, the Sea Wolf, which she’d learnt was Jon’s uncle’s ship. The Black Crow was quite impressive compared to the galley but the Sea Wolf was even larger. It’s sails were grey and there was a flag with what appeared to be a black wolf on it flapping about at the top of the mainmast. It reminded her of her family’s sigil though the colors were wrong.

It was difficult to make out expressions or faces with the deck beneath her moving and her target moving as well but it appeared to Sansa from their postures and gesturing that Jon and his uncle were having a somewhat tense discussion. His uncle was taller and a little broader than Jon but their hair was quite similar and she guessed their eyes and features might be as well. It was a pity he had not come to call upon his nephew instead so that she might meet him but there seemed to be a hierarchy amongst pirates turned privateers and, clearly, if there truly was a King Crow, it must be Jon’s uncle.

Soon enough, the pair retired below where the telescope would not see them. Sansa handed Mr. Seaworth’s telescope back to him with her thanks and returned to enjoying the breeze and bits of spray that an occasional gust would send her way.

She was delighted by the sunshine and this pleasant lack of urgency she felt today. Why, she could happily sail along aboard the Black Crow for days and even weeks maybe like this. If only I could, she thought, guiltily recalling the duty that awaited her in Kings Landing. I will enjoy it while it lasts at least.

“Cap’n’s comin’ back,” she heard Edd say a few minutes later.

“What, already?” Mr. Seaworth replied.

But their words nor their troubled tone pierced Sansa’s joy in the midst of her halcyon daydreams.

Therefore, she did not know what to make of Jon’s closed-off, nearly cold expression and his clipped words when he returned and said, “Miss Poole, I must ask you and the ladies to lend me the cabin for a time.”

“Of course, I…”

“Davos, come below with me.”

The faces of the seamen showed the same perplexity and concern as Jeyne and Shae’s and likely her own as the two men disappeared from deck.

Once the boat’s crew came aboard, rumors started to swirl. Things were not all shipshape aboard the Sea Wolf. There had been a battle and lives had been lost. And there were some tales of bad news for the North and the war as well.

Soon enough, orders came from below and the men jumped to it despite their uneasy looks and whispered words.

After an hour of pacing on deck (her nose now feeling decidedly crisp) where neither Jon nor Davos had returned and no one else would share anything specific with them, Sansa left Shae and Jeyne above and made her way below, taking several deep breaths for courage as she went.

Near the cabin entrance, on the other side of the wall lay the small cupboard which was Mr. Seaworth’s quarters. And inside it, Sansa could hear the old man sobbing quietly and her heart gave a painful lurch whilst simultaneously racing with fear. What had happened?

"Mr. Seaworth?" she called through the door.

No answer at first and then, "Leave me be for now, child." 

Afraid to find out what could reduce Mr. Seaworth to tears but even more afraid to be left in the dark, Sansa hurried along and knocked on the cabin door. She heard a muffled, “Enter!” at once.  

“Enter!” the raven repeated as she opened the door.

The bird was perched on the chair at the foot of the table and Jon sat at the head of it where he had been a little over two hours ago singing and sharing breakfast with them.

Edd was standing behind him holding an empty bottle of wine with a worried look upon his brow.

Jon sat staring at the large tankard in his hands.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, captain, but…”

“No, no, Miss Sansa,” Jon said, with a noticeable slur from drink making his tongue thick. “I apologize for keeping you from the cabin. I’ll leave and…”  He started to rise but promptly fell back into the chair.  

“You needn’t go. It’s your cabin, captain.”

“So, it is,” he chuckled but with no mirth. “Please, take a seat and join me if you will.” He squinted at her a moment. “Your nose and cheeks are quite red from the sun, lass, but your hair is still redder. Speaking of reds, I’ve a Dornish Red here if you care for some of it. Tastes like piss but, after a tankard to two, you won’t notice.” She grimaced at his foul language as he turned his attention to Edd. “That’ll do for now.”

There was a terse whispered exchange between captain and servant but it was over no sooner than it began and Edd only paused on his way to the door long enough to say, “Which he’s been drinking as he’s downhearted, miss, so I hope you won’t…”

Jon’s voice cracked like a whip. “I said, that’ll do, Tollett!”  And, the seaman disappeared without another word.

“Do! Do! Go!” the raven squawked.

Sansa had little experience with men in their cups. It made her nervous to be honest. As a girl at Winterfell, her father had never allowed his daughters to be exposed to much drunken behavior for long. When a man grew rowdy with drink, he was often escorted outside the castle, sent to the stables or elsewhere to sober up. Once or twice, when a visiting lord might grow drunk who could not readily be tossed outside or two men might start to quarrel over their ale during a feast, Sansa, her sister and the other young girls of the castle would be sent to their chambers until matters were dealt with. Her mother or septa would come and fetch them there once things were merry again.

That was at Winterfell though where Sansa had been surrounded by her family and the men sworn to them. Here, she was essentially alone. How might this privateer behave when he was obviously upset and inebriated?

He has shown himself to be a good man, she reminded herself.

“Corn?” the raven said, plainly begging instead of demanding for a change. She reached into the pocket of Jon’s boat cloak and fished out a few kernels setting them on the table. Jon was watching her quietly as the raven flapped down from its perch to eat. “Red! Wench! Red! Lass!”

“Eat and be silent,” Jon muttered to the bird as he took another sip of wine.

Sansa gingerly took a seat beside him. “What has happened?” she asked softly when he remained quiet. He reached for his tankard again but she stopped him with the merest brush of her fingers on his sleeve. “Will you tell me without drinking any more just now?”

His dark grey eyes were red-rimmed from sorrow as much as the wine, she suspected. “My uncle ran into Fury outside the bay.”

“Fury?”

“Fury!” the raven cried, flapping its wings and taking to its roost on the chair again.

Jon grimaced and explained, “One of the king’s ships.”

“Oh.”

“We don’t go after king’s ships unless they're smaller than us. And Fury is the largest ship in the fleet. Only a bloody fool would go after it and my uncle is no fool but they happened upon each other in a fog.”

“There was a battle?”

“Aye, there was. You see, we’re privateers and…Fury was crammed full of men, twice as many as Sea Wolf. That’s not what we’re after. We want a prize, a ship we can sail or row ourselves or sell to someone else, guns we can use, goods we can use or barter to help the North.” He stared at his drink. He still had his hand around the tankard but did not drink. “They like prizes, too, but they’re just as likely to sink or burn us as they are to bother with taking us. Anyway, there was no way to avoid the engagement. Thankfully, it was short before foul weather interrupted things and my uncle was able to make his escape. Damage to the ship was minimal but it was costly all the same.”

“Your uncle lost men,” she said flatly, recalling the fear she’d felt aboard the galley when the Crow had caught them and the injured men. No one had died there though.

“He did.”

“Friends of yours?”

“Aye, four men in all. Davos’ son Matthos was one of my uncle’s mates. He was the first lost.”

“Oh gods, Jon! I’m so sorry!” she said, her eyes filling with tears at the thoughts of poor Mr. Seaworth grieving alone in his little cupboard.

“Please, don’t…don’t cry, lass,” he said hoarsely. “I cannot bear your tears after the old man’s.”

Sansa nodded, sniffling and doing her best not to weep though it was hard for her loving heart.

She had a black silk gown in her trunk, intended for some occasion when she might have need of mourning clothes as Joffrey’s queen, but she also had a black wool dress. It would be hot but tolerable, she supposed. She would cut up the black silk to make some token for poor Mr. Seaworth out of it. It was only a small gesture, nothing to replace his son, but she would do it all the same.

The hand that had been wrapped around his tankard reached for hers instead. She accepted it gladly, squeezing his callused hand in her softer one as their eyes met. “What will he do?”

“We are not unused to tragedy at sea. Death stalks us with every tempest and every battle.”

“Death! Death!” the raven said.

“I tried to send him aboard Sea Wolf so he might go home and comfort his Marya and their younger sons but…he’s a stubborn old goat sometimes.”

“He will not leave you.”   

“No, he will not."  She was not all that surprised.  Most of the men appeared quite loyal to Jon.  She was beginning to understand why.  "My uncle insisted on Davos being my first mate when he made me captain of this ship. He understood my temper well and thought the old man’s patience and wisdom might curtail my rasher moments or any foolhardy notions.”

“Fool! Fool!”

"And has it?" she asked, quietly.

"Mostly," he said with a brief but wry grin and she was struck by a very strong wave of affection for this man.  The grin faded when he added, “We will be saying adieu to some of our passengers though.”

Her heart plummeted at the thought of being parted from him and her voice was a pitiful whisper when she asked, “You mean me?”

“No, not you, lass. I’ll see you safely ashore at Dragonstone as I promised.”

Her heart thumped wildly with relief.  She would not leave him.

Leave him?  Oh Sansa, what are you doing? This cannot be. You will leave him.  You cannot fall in love with him. You don't really know him and your golden prince is waiting.

Yes, Joffrey was waiting but she would argue that she was coming to know Jon and she wanted to know him better...but that could never be. 

Y ou have a duty to your father's word and your betrothal.  Your marriage might end the war that has taken Mr. Seaworth's son from him.  Isn't that more important than your romantic heart?  

“Despite their losses, my uncle’s ship is larger and more fit for prisoners than ours. Mr. Flowers and his mates are being transferred to it so they may sail for White Harbor all the sooner.”

“That is well.”

“Aye.” But he bowed his head and fell silent again and she knew he was still very troubled.

“Is there more than Mr. Seaworth’s son that saddens you?” she prodded. “You said four men died.”

Jon scrubbed at his face and gave her a tiny flicker of a smile that broke her heart as readily as Mr. Seaworth’s sobbing had. “Aye, I knew each of them but there was another man aboard who was…Grenn, the carpenter. He’d just been made carpenter when I got the Crow or I would’ve brought him over with me. We were close in age. We started sailing together under my uncle as boys."  His brow furrowed.  "I still need to tell Pyp.  Pyp knew him first.  We were all...we berthed and ate in the same close quarters as boys aboard the Wolf.  We fought our first battle together and got drunk together for the first time.  We visited our first, um...he was my friend. He was my friend and now he’s gone.”

She could tell Jon was not a man easily given to tears so when his eyes turned glassy, Sansa could not stand for him to weep alone. She stood from her chair, wrapping her arms about his shoulders as his slid into the folds of the cloak and circled her waist.

“Whining don't change anything.  I’m sorry to be...”

“Shh, don’t say sorry,” she murmured as her lips brushed the curls on top of his head.  "Grieve for your friend."

“Dead. Dead,” the raven called mournfully and Jon stopped fighting against his feelings.  

She peppered the top of his head with kisses as he burrowed his face into her dress and wept. She held him close as his body shook with his grief and her own tears coated her sunburnt cheeks. She told herself there was no shame in comforting someone who was hurting, no matter if the feelings this man stirred inside her could never be acted upon.

“Forgive me, Miss Sansa,” he said at last, growing self-conscious again as he was wiping the last of his tears away.

She looked down at him and gave him a watery smile, receiving one in return.  He was so close, their faces were so close.  His lips were chapped and might taste like salt.  It would be nothing at all to lean forward and find out.  She should like to.  She wanted that very much.  

“Th-there is nothing to forgive, captain. I only wish I could help in some way,” she told him in a shaky voice as she quickly stepped away to give him some space and gather her good sense. 

She took her seat again and he reached for her hand once more. “I promise, you already helped me just now.”

Feeling a little self-conscious herself, especially in light of the startling realization that she had been a hairsbreadth away from kissing him, she reached for something to say. “I overheard there was other concerning news for the North.”

“Aye, bad tidings for the North and sorrowful for me though not so personal as it is for my uncle. I’ve been told he held me as a babe but, after their quarrel when I was no more than two or three, I never saw him and have no memory of him.”

“I'm afraid I don’t understand.”

“Sorry. My uncle’s brother, who is my uncle as well, is…well, he’s an important man in the North, a very important man. We’ve learned he was invited to Kings Landing with promises of safe passage.”

“Did something happen to his ship before he reached the capital?”

“No, lass. He made it to Kings Landing, all the way to the Red Keep where he was taken prisoner by King Joffrey no sooner than he arrived and accused of treason. He awaits trial.”

“Dead! Dead! King!” the raven squawked.

“But there must be some mistake! Joffrey wouldn’t do that! I’m sure there’s some misunderstanding and your uncle will be released or…”

She trailed off as Jon’s eyes narrowed and his look hardened. He looked at her shrewdly, failing to completely hide his irritation at her words or the touch of pity she saw there. Why would he pity her though?  Did he think her a foolish girl for not hating Joffrey?  Maybe so. He did not know of her betrothal.  He thought her a Southern girl, too. 

It will be alright.  He does not know Joffrey personally. 

Neither do you, an uncomfortable voice within countered. 

I will speak with my betrothed when I reach the capital.  I will help resolve whatever the misunderstanding is.  Jon might never know it but she would gladly do it for him. Surely, whoever Jon’s uncle was, Joffrey would treat him fairly. 

Nevertheless, who was she to sit here and defend Joffrey today in the face of Jon’s grief and losses?

“I beg your pardon, captain. I do hope the king will listen and heed wise counsel and your uncle will be freed.”

“Thank you, Miss Sansa. Let us hope so for the sake of our kingdoms,” he agreed, a sad smile upon his face as he continued to hold her hand.  

Chapter Text

Three days had passed since the Crow had encountered Sea Wolf. The two ships had parted company within an hour of Sansa coming to the cabin and offering him her comfort.

A small part of his pride smarted at being so vulnerable before her and yet, Jon could not say he truly minded. It had been a long while since he’d known that variety of comfort. In truth, he could not recall the last time he’d been treated with such tenderness. It had done nothing to curb his budding affection for her either.

She was a fine girl, the very finest, and he told himself to be content with just having made her acquaintance rather than wondering what it would feel like to kiss her soft pink lips. If he was suffering at the thought of leaving her behind some time very soon, it was his own fault for permitting himself to pine for a lady so clearly above him and already bespoke.

Once he had spread the word to the men regarding all he’d learnt aboard Sea Wolf, a period of mourning had fallen over the entire ship and the hands had been unusually quiet.

However, most all of them had been deeply touched when Sansa and Miss Jeyne went ‘round the ship presenting each man with a fine length of black silk.

“A token of our sympathy for your loss,” Sansa had murmured when she’d presented Jon with his.

“What is it for?”

“You may wear it as an armband in memory of your friends if you wish. It can be used as a neckerchief if you prefer.”

“ Wherever did you get the silk?"

"It was originally a mourning gown which I know sounds odd to include in a bridal trousseau but my parents have raised me to anticipate all of life's events, good and bad, summer or winter.  I've gifted the rest of the silk to Mr. Seaworth so that his wife might have it."

He was moved greatly at the thought of the fine dress she’d readily given away.  "I doubt any man aboard had anything made of silk until now," he'd said, smiling at the gift and quite impressed by her neat stitches.  Silk seemed like it'd not make for easy sewing and black on black would tire the eyes by lantern light.  

“I know it’s nothing really,” she’d started to demur. “It was just a thought and…”

“You mistake me, lass. I’m not condemning your gift. I’ve never had a more thoughtful one. I shall wear your favor with pride and remember the giver most fondly.”

Her cheeks had colored when he’d referred to it as a favor. He had discovered her love of knightly tales of valor and their lady loves. Perhaps that’s why he’d chosen to call it that.

But you are no knight and she will never be your lady.

After two solid days of clouds the sun had reappeared this morning. With the exception of Davos, whose grief was naturally the most profound, the others aboard who had known Matthos, Grenn and the others were coming to terms with the loss of their friends and former shipmates. In an occupation such as theirs, they mourned sincerely and deeply but, like the water swirling in their wake, they passed through it more swiftly than landsmen perhaps. Jon predicted by nightfall, laughter, the click of dice and even the fiddle might be heard on the forecastle.

Still, they did not forget their departed brethren so easily as one might imagine from outward appearances.

“You remember how when we was squeakers your uncle would send you, me an’ Grenn up to the crow’s nest aboard the Wolf when he’d heard enough of our hallooing?” Pyp asked as they sat together in the top after Jon had climbed up to join him after breakfast.

“How could I forget? If there was any sort of swell, you’d wind up vomiting all over me and Grenn before our hour was up.”

“Did not.”

“You did, too.”

“Nah, that was you.”

“Not I. I’ve salt water in my veins, didn’t you know?” He was joking of course but Sansa’s words from the other day had stuck with him. He’d liked the allusion.

“Well, you and your salt water catted up all over my feet that time we were off the coast of Hardhome and it came that three-day blow.”

“Gods, that was a miserable time,” Jon agreed as he drew his pocket telescope out. “I remember Grenn said if we survived it he’d walk off the ship the next time we made anchor and never lay eyes on the sea again.”

“That’s right, he did,” Pyp said as they shared a laugh before growing quiet as they remembered their friend. “I don’t think he regretted not doing so, do you, Jon?”

“No, Pyp. I don’t think he regretted it at all. Nothing but blue all around us still,” he said, indicating the sea.

“Aye, but I’ve a stag that says I’ll spot land before noon.”

“Done.” Jon continued studying the horizon for a few more minutes, knowing Pyp would likely win his stag but dreading it all the same. “I’m off,” he announced then, slipping his telescope into his coat pocket and preparing to slide down the backstay.

“Are you off to see the ladies, cap’n?”

Pyp calling him captain when no one else was within earshot was not usual.

“I am.  I wish to study my charts for our approach to Dragonstone and they're in the cabin.”  I wish to see Sansa, too.  

“Was you to…if Miss Jeyne is there…” Pyp fingered the black silk he had tied around his neck this morning and Jon recalled that it was the younger Poole girl which had given Pyp his. “Would you tell her how I appreciate my gift and maybe give her this for me?”

He pulled something from his pocket, passing it over.

"Your lucky shark's tooth?  Pyp, you've had this since we were..."

"Twelve, I know it," Pyp huffed as his ears started growing red.  "I just thought as how them girls could use a bit of luck maybe.  Miss Jeyne don't say much but I can tell she's a mite nervous over what things might be like for her when they reach Kings Landing."

"How so?" he asked as his belly knotted up uncomfortably.

"Neither girl's ever met Miss Poole's intended."

"They haven't?"  He had wondered but not worked up the nerve to ask Sansa.

"No and...well, she's the younger girl going along to live in this man's house she's never met.  I reckon she's afraid he might not take a shine to her being there as the younger sister an' all."

"Ah, I hadn't thought of that."  And now I have another worry with regards to Sansa and this betrothal.  "Well, it's very fine of you to give your shark's tooth to Miss Jeyne.  Are you sure you wouldn't rather give it to her yourself?"

"Nah, I...you know how I can get tongue-tied an' all with girls sometimes.  I mean, girls like them anyway.  I've little experience with young ladies."

"Nor I," Jon laughed and then promised he'd deliver Pyp's gift before he made his gliding descent down the ropes, his hands just this side of scorched when his boots thumped upon the deck.

Making his way along the lower deck towards the cabin, Jon reflected on poor, smitten Pypar and his shark’s tooth.  The daughters of wealthy merchants were well above the likes of them both but he wished it were otherwise.  He also wished he had some luck to offer Sansa beyond a talking bird she surely would not want.  An uneasy voice within whispered Pyp might be right and the girls might need a bit of luck in days to come.  He was finding himself fretting more and more over the upcoming exchange.  He told himself that was just his selfish desire to keep Sansa aboard masquerading itself as fear.  But he could not keep her.

Why not?  You were a pirate, weren’t you?  Don’t pirates take what they want? 

I would never force her to do anything.

No, but you could steal her away, sail her to the Summer Isles or Pentos and work to win her heart, maybe make her your wife if she’d agree.

There were times lately he could almost fool himself into believing that Sansa might not mind him trying that. 

I cannot run from my duty to the North and Uncle Benjen.  And he’d have my hide if I brought Sansa over to his ship when we reconvene at White Harbor and asked him to marry us after assuring him I’d see the young ladies we captured safely delivered to Dragonstone. 

His uncle was clever and knew Jon well.  He’d seen the red haired girl standing by the taffrail and tactfully reminded Jon that they didn’t need some wealthy Kings Landinger arming a privateer of his own because some Northman had stolen his bride.  And if that man possessed a friend or two at court?  He might even raise enough of a hue and cry to bring the naval might of the capital after them. 

Greyjoy’s probably still lingering about Braavos if you took her there and…

Stop your gob, you fool.  Benjen was right and Sansa will be setting foot ashore on Dragonstone by tomorrow evening at the latest. 

His inner debate was silenced and Jon’s ears perked up at once at the feminine cry coming from nearby.

“Let go of me!”

Dark laughter greeted those words.  “We ain’t forgot what a feisty one you are but we got coin.  What’d ye say, wench?  A dragon a piece for Dirk and me?  I’ll take tops and Dirk’ll do bottoms if you’d rather it be quicker.”

“No!  Now, let go or I’ll do more than blacken your eye!”

“Watch it, Chett!  She’s got a knife!”

Jon was almost within sight of them and was drawing breath to bellow out a warning when someone beat him to it.

“Get yer filthy hands off the lady this minute!”

“Bugger off, Tollett.  This ain’t yer concern.”

“You bugger off, you sod!  The cap’n said…”

“The cap’n ain’t here and she ain’t no blushing maiden like the cap’n’s pretty piece.”

A momentary flash of red wrath filled him, knowing they meant Sansa.  But cold, controlled anger took its place as he drew his own knife and said in a dreadful voice of judgment, “I’m right here, you dogs, and I’ve given orders that none of our female passengers are to be harassed or mistreated while aboard.  Or have you forgotten that, Chett?”   

Chett nervously eyed Jon's blade and quickly released Shae’s arm.  She was indeed clutching a blade of her own.  Jon would not object if she shoved it in Chett's belly but instead she merely spit in his eye.  The brute’s face turned crimson and Jon suspected he might strike her were they alone.  As it was, he stood scowling at her before muttering, “I ain’t forgotten, cap’n.”

Dirk had his hands in his pockets and was looking uneasy. 

“And you?” Jon asked.  “Is it your intention to defy my orders as well?  I might remind you that defying my orders is mutiny, men, and I’ll not tolerate it.  You can walk the plank if that's your game.  I can feel the loom of the land on the horizon but I doubt either of you would care to swim all the way to Dragonstone from here.” 

“No, cap’n.  We won’t be defying your orders no more,” Dirk said.

Chett gave him a jerky nod and said the same. 

“Very well.  Apologize to this woman.”  He waited until they had.  Their apologies were rather churlish but at least they made them.  “Go swab the deck and then clean the heads.  Perhaps the labor will keep my orders in the forefront of your thoughts rather than the women but we’ll be speaking again of this later.”

“Aye-aye, cap’n.”

They scurried off and Jon turned to Edd and Shae who was thanking him for his support.  Old Edd’s dour face reminded Jon somewhat of Pyp’s in the top from earlier as he bowed his head and said, “It were nothing, ma’am.”

“I apologize for that ugliness, ma’am.”

“It would be hard to control all of them at once, all the time, captain.  I’ve dealt with worse than them in my time anyway,” Shae said, lifting her skirts and giving them both quite a glimpse of her thighs as she put her knife back into a sheath concealed there. 

Edd gulped and his eyes flew to the deck above them with his face growing red, reminding Jon of that hypothetical maidenly septa guarding her maiden’s vault once more. 

“Did they injury you, ma’am?  Is there anything you wish for?  Coffee or tea perhaps?”

“No, I’m not injured but I could do with a tot of rum if you’ll allow, captain,” Shae told him with that saucy grin of hers.

Jon chuckled despite himself.  They'd broken their fast only an hour ago but he would not deny her a drink if she wanted it.  He did need to fetch his charts though.  And he still wanted to see Sansa even though he'd seen only an hour ago over breakfast.  

“Tollett, would you mind seeing to a drink for the lady?”

“No, cap’n.  Come along, ma’am.”

Before they were gone, Jon told Edd, “I’ll speak with Davos but I believe I’ll be making some changes in the crew when we reach home waters again.  Sometimes, there's nothing for bad apples but to toss 'em out.”

“Aye, cap’n.”

An hour later, Jon had finished looking over his charts for the waters surrounding Dragonstone but he was still quite happily seated at the table in the cabin with Sansa by his side.  Miss Jeyne was up on deck with Shae and they were blissfully alone.

“Corn!  Corn!”

Well, almost alone.

Sansa had been working on a bit of embroidery while he studied his charts but had become interested in them before long, saying how they were different than the land maps she’d seen as a girl. 

Geography and oceanography had held their interests for a time but eventually they’d turned to other topics.  Jon had told Sansa of Shae’s unfortunate experience earlier and asked if she’d had any more issues with any of the men since coming aboard.  He was greatly relieved when she told him she had not. 

The conversation had taken another turn as they’d discussed their youth.  Jon spoke of his mother from what he could remember of her.  “I remember her singing to me at night when I was little.  She was beautiful but sad.”  Sansa looked at him questioningly.  “My father was…he sailed off one day and neither he nor his ship was seen again.”

“Oh Jon, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.  It happened before I was born.  I never knew him.  I was only sorry for my mother.”  

In truth, his father had been a merchant seaman and his mother quite young, visiting friends in White Harbor from what Benjen had told him when he’d been a little older.  She had been sent to her brother’s home in Eastwatch for her confinement but had not given Jon over to the farmer and his wife selected to raise her bastard by her father as he had wished.  She’d remained with Benjen and his wife and kept her son. 

Part of him wanted to tell Sansa that but part of him hesitated.  It was a deeply personal sort of thing to share and he worried that she might think less of him if she learnt he was a bastard.

“And your uncle helped raise you?”

“Yes, him and his wife, Lyessa.  I’ve a dog there, too.  Ghost.  He’s quite large, part wolf and solid white.”

“Mr. Flowers told me before we were captured that you were known as the White Wolf in some parts.”

He chuckled.  “Ghost is the reason why.  When he was still a pup and we weren’t venturing so far from home, I was permitted to bring Ghost with me.”

“Ghost!  Ghost!” the raven cried.

“That’s very sweet.” 

“Crow!  Snow!”

“But what of your family?  Is Jeyne your only sister?  What is your home like?”

“Oh, I…”  Her eyes grew wide as she smoothed down her skirts before continuing.

He soon discovered she had three brothers and another younger sister.  Her mother and father were loving parents though they had agreed to a betrothal for their daughter when she’d been eleven.  He did not care for that.  It seemed far too young an age to make such a promise on behalf of one’s child.

“And your betrothed?  Is he older than you?”

“Only by a couple of years.”

“Oh.”  He was relieved…and yet not.  Perhaps if she’d been betrothed to man twice her age, Jon might’ve felt bold enough to suggest an alternative. 

You do not have to marry him if you don't wish to. 

But there was the rub for she seemed settled with her impending marriage and...well, different this past day towards him.  It was as if she'd already placed one foot on dry land.  She was moving on towards her future, her future that Jon would not be part of.  He would need to accept that and move forward, too.  Their acquaintance would come to an end though he didn't think he'd ever forget her.      

As he secretly did his best to harden his heart for the blow it would soon receive, Sansa went on to tell him of how she’d spent the last two years at her maternal grandfather’s nearer Riverrun.

“And Shae went with you and Jeyne there?”

“No, we met Shae a few moons ago.  Mr. Flowers vouched for our safe passage but we needed someone to travel with us all this way, an older girl at least.  She said she’d been a washerwoman for an encampment of soldiers that had passed through the village but was looking for other employment.” 

"Wench!  Wench!" the raven squawked.  

Jon kept his expression neutral, only wondering if Sansa was aware of the gentle euphemism there.  More than likely not.  He did not mind.  She was sweet and her innocence unspoiled.  There was nothing wrong with that.  He did think she needed more protection though than Shae with her dagger.  

“We had originally left my father’s house with two guards and a maid.  But my…I mean, our grandfather fell ill and we were there much longer than intended while I took care of him.  The guards drifted off after a time and the maid fell in love with a groom.”  Her cheeks grew the rosiest pink as she looked up from beneath her lashes at him.  “She was quite near her time when we were preparing to leave.”

“I see.  And Shae…”

“She offered to go with us and she said she knew her way around Kings Landing.”

“That is good,” Jon said, mulling that over as Sansa picked back up her embroidery.  “That is very good.  Sansa, I hope you will forgive me but I have grown quite…concerned over your well-being.”

“Concerned?”

"You're quite dear to me."  She gasped and he could not believe he'd said that.  "I meant as a friend.  I hope I may call you that." 

"Yes, I...you may call me your friend," she said, her blush still quite noticeable.   

“You and Jeyne are quite alone apart from Shae.  It would set my mind at ease to at least offer you an alternative offer if…” 

Her mouth fell opened and her eyes were wide as saucers.  “You would make me an offer?” she asked, her breath coming in short pants.  "What sort?"

Gods, he'd love to make her an offer, to ask for her hand but obviously she would not desire that.  “Well, I'd thought to suggest a place you could go if things between you and your intended don’t go as planned.”

“If things don't go as...oh.”  She sniffed and returned her eyes to her needlework, seemingly displeased.  What had he said wrong?  “I’m sure everything will work out just fine.”

“I certainly hope so but if you’ll humor me…Sansa, it would make me feel better knowing you had an alternative available in case of need.”

"You needn't worry yourself, captain."

"But I will, lass.  I cannot help worrying."

Maybe it was his beseeching tone or his use of the endearment but she raised her eyes to meet his once more, the blue of them perfectly mesmerizing with the sun reflecting on the water and filtering into the cabin through the stern windows. 

“Very well, Jon.  If it will set your heart at ease, I will listen to what you have to say.” 

He proceeded to tell her of Dareon who preferred singing for his supper as opposed to sailing these days and the tavern in Fishmonger’s Square where he could most often be found. 

“He has ways of getting word to me and knows places to hide if…if that should be necessary at some point.”

“I’m certain it won’t be.” 

“No, I’m certain it won’t but if you wished to get word to me...

"It would hardly be suitable for me to send messages to another man when I will be a married woman."

"No, I suppose not,” he agreed, thoroughly depressed as she returned her attention to her needlework.

He excused himself soon after to return on deck.  His mood was quite soured when he heard Pyp shouting from high above, “Land ho!”

Jon had spent the ensuing day and night avoiding the cabin and focusing on sailing his ship into port under its flag of truce.  He had not wished to impose on Miss Poole's preparations for her departure this morning.  He also feared making a fool of himself if left alone with her again.

He and Davos were studying the old castle turned fort's fortifications with their telescopes when he saw Miss Jeyne appear on deck.  She sought out Pyp on the forecastle, obviously intent on thanking him for his gift.  Jon's hand dipped into his coat pocket as he wondered if he'd find the courage to hand over a gift as well when they parted in less than an hour.

"I've chosen the boat's crew, cap'n," Davos said.  "Should be a simple run ashore and back even with their trunks and such."

"Aye, it should be..."  He paused in what else he had to say when he spied Sansa coming up on deck.  "Actually, Davos...I believe I will row in with them."

"You?"  The old man gave him a pointed look.

"Yes, me.  Just...just give me this, alright?"

"You're the captain, Jon.  Of course, it is your decision."  He then placed a hand on Jon's shoulder and said more quietly.  "She's easy to love and I'm sorry for...the way things are."

"Thank you, Davos."

Sooner than he'd expect, they were rowing their way towards land.  Sansa was wearing a pretty bonnet and her hair was tucked away except for a lone strand that had escaped.  He watched it dance upon the breeze as he manned the tiller.  

The boat kissed the beach and Jon crossed the length of the boat to jump out.  Pyp and Edd had come along as rowers and they would help the other ladies ashore.  Jon reached for Sansa. 

But rather than simply putting his hands at her waist to lift her up and set her down again a few feet away, he pulled her into his arms, carrying her like a man might carry his bride.  She gasped but quickly circled her arms around his neck. For a few precious moments, he could pretend she was his. 

Up the beach well past the high water mark he carried her before setting her down.  "So you might remain dry shod," he said sheepishly by way of explanation. 

She may not have entirely believed his excuse but she said nothing of it.  He had held her twice before today.  Once, the day they'd met when she'd pulled a knife on him and then the day they'd met with Sea Wolf and she'd comforted him.  He'd wanted this last opportunity to hold the girl he thought he might've fallen in love with.  Had it been barely more than a week since they'd met?  The raven names you a fool and rightly so. 

"There is a party of soldiers who will ask your names and then arrange passage for you ladies," he said, indicating the approaching party of men.

She nodded, looking rather flustered and unsure of herself.  Still, she was always mindful of her manners.  “Thank you for seeing us safely ashore, Captain Crow.”

“It has been my honor to see you safely this far, Miss Sansa.”  Though I abhor this parting business.  “If I may, before I go, I had wanted to give you something to remember me…to remember the Crow by.”  He pulled the fine filigree chain from his coat pocket with the silver wolf’s head pendant and handed it to Sansa.  “It’s not got a crow or raven on it but I thought…”

“Oh, Jon!  It’s beautiful!  I especially like the wolf bit.  It reminds me of…something from back home,” she said, trailing off with some private reminiscence of her own. 

“It was my mother’s but I should like to give it to you.”

“Your mother’s?  Jon, you cannot give me this.”

“It is mine to give away as I wish and I wish to give it to you.”  Like my heart.  She did not need to hear that.  She was leaving, heading off to marry another man. “I hope you will accept it,” he said quietly as her head was bowed, staring at the necklace.

When she looked back up at him, her eyes were aswim with tears.  “I will accept it most humbly and am truly grateful to you for everything.” 

Was she affected by this parting, too?  Perhaps she was.  He should not tarry and extend their misery.  There was nothing to be done about it.  It was too late to throw her over his shoulder and carry her back to his ship.  

She was attempting to fasten the chain around her neck.  He was pleased that she would wish to wear it.  Would she wear it as she sailed to meet her betrothed?  When she wedded him?  As he bedded her?  Jon felt ill but could not resist assisting her, his fingers sweeping aside that strand of copper silk that had come free of her bonnet and was impeding her progress. 

Once it was done, she smiled at him softly and he wondered how his heart could still beat when it was hurting so much.

“You'll remember what I said about Dareon and the tavern?”

“I’ll remember,” she swore, thankfully not appearing vexed by him mentioning it.  

There was nothing more to say but goodbye.  The tide waited for no man and his ship was waiting for him.

Nevertheless, Jon reached for her hand.  She did not resist as he pulled it to his mouth, allowing his chapped lips to brush her petal soft skin.  “May the gods bless you always, lass,” he said with heavy emotion before pressing a firm kiss to her knuckles.

She drew a deep breath, her eyes still teary but had no words at the ready so he gave her a nod and quickly strode away, down the sand and back to the boat.

He took his place at the bow to help the other men shove off but nothing could prevent him from staring back over his shoulder at her.

Sansa and Miss Jeyne were in their white dresses once more and with the bonnets more difficult to distinguish but he knew her like the back of his hand, he'd swear. 

He scrambled aboard along with the others as the waves beat against the prow.

"Oars!" he called.  He was glad he was not expected to row. 

He made his way aft to the tiller but kept his head turned so that he might gaze at her until the distance grew too great to make out more than patches of white on the shore. He had known many farewells over the years but Jon knew he had never experienced one that had broke his heart in quite this manner until now.   

Chapter Text

“May the gods bless you always, lass.”

They had not though. The gods were cruel and men were crueler. There were no blessings for Sansa Stark in the Red Keep, only sorrows.

From the moment she’d identified herself to the castellan of Dragonstone, instinct had been warning her that something wasn’t right. She’d told them her true name which she’d withheld from Jon, thinking she had no reason to hide her identity anymore. She wished now she’d told Jon her name instead.

The castellan and soldiers were polite and visibly relieved to see her safely delivered to them but shrewd and quiet about her betrothed and what had been going on whilst she’d been rowed down the river through the Riverlands and out to sea before they’d been captured by the Crow.

Once she was aboard one of the king’s small ships and heading to Kings Landing, she'd met Joffrey’s uncle, Tyrion Lannister, widely known as the Imp. He’d been dispatched to retrieve his nephew’s betrothed and pass along the horrible state of affairs. He’d been courteous and apologetic but it hadn’t changed the unhappy truth. Her father was in the king’s custody and accused of treason, the Crown's ire over the North's rebellion aimed squarely at Lord Stark. It was then that she began to understand she was to be a captive again...but in a manner she had never been upon Jon’s ship.

If the gods had been kind, I would’ve stayed with you. They would’ve blown us off course and we’d have been forced to cross the Narrow Sea. Or perhaps we would’ve crashed upon a rocky shore and I would’ve perished. It might still have been a blessing compared to what awaited me here.

The golden prince she'd dreamt of since she'd been a girl of eleven was not what she'd pictured.  He was as handsome as she'd heard but he was also a monster, the very worst sort of monster.

Sansa was no longer a princess in a story, stepping out of the pages into a world of wonder to experience her happily ever after for true.  All her happiness was at her back and she was locked in a tower, a traitor’s daughter and a hostage.

“I’m sorry, sweet one.  I shouldn't have trusted Robert's word alone and agreed to the betrothal in the first place,” her father had said quietly the one time she’d been allowed to see him before his so-called trial. “Our letters to your grandfather's house never made it but one did arrive from him saying you had left for the capital a few moons ago.  I took the swiftest route along the White Knife and traveled the Narrow Sea in a fast schooner recommended to me by my brother."

"Your brother?  You mean my Uncle Benjen?"

"I had hoped to arrive before you which I did. They said that we might parlay.  I wanted to end your betrothal and make some sort of peace with Joffrey, to see if he might let us exist as an independent kingdom again but I have failed.”

“Don’t say that, Father. It will be alright. I’m to be his bride. He will not harm you. I’ll win his heart and make him see that…”

“Sansa, I don’t believe Joffrey has any heart to speak of.”

Her father had been right about that.

“Ser Ilyn, bring me his head.”

She could not close her eyes without seeing it again. She heard Joffrey’s taunting words in her head, day and night, whenever she tried to sleep, whenever she walked in the small courtyard allowed for her exercise and whenever she saw Joffrey’s fair face and heard his foul voice.

“I gave him a clean death. That’s the most a traitor could hope for. Stop crying. It annoys me.”

Sansa stared at the flames of her hearth, too grief-stricken to think, too sore to move after Ser Meryn’s blows earlier.

“Not her face. I like her pretty.”

Her eyes burned and tears ran down her cheeks as she wondered what it might feel like to draw closer to the fire, to lay across it like a lover and let it claim her.

But even in her worst moments, when that awful voice of despair within suggested that she cease to eat, that she touch the fire, that she open her window and learn once and for all if she could fly away like a little dove, Sansa would hear another voice, one that was a balm to her battered heart.

“It is mine to give away as I wish and I wish to give it to you.”

He had meant his mother’s necklace but she sometimes pretended he’d meant something even more precious.  Like your dear heart.  

Reaching inside her dress where she kept it tucked away and nestled near her own heart, she pulled out the wolf pendant.

“Lyanna,” her father had said curiously during that one visit when he’d embraced her for the final time and caught sight of it. “Where did you get her necklace, child?”

Her father had rarely spoken of his sister who had died when Sansa was little but she knew her name. She knew she had lived with her uncle too who had quarreled with her father years ago and how the brothers had all but stopped speaking to each other afterwards. It was sad and Sansa hadn’t like thinking on sad things when she'd been such a happy girl.

“Did my aunt have a pendant like this one? But it can’t be hers, Father. A sailor gave it to me.”

“A sailor? More like a thief,” her father had said, coldly.

No, not a thief.  Not really though he's been a pirate.  It belonged to his mother.

She had not said that. She hadn’t wished to argue with her father who was injured, filled with worries and deprived of sleep in his wretched cell.

Holding the wolf pendant tonight, she sought comfort in her memories of its giver, recalling Jon's deep, soothing voice, the warmth of his hand holding hers, the intensity of his dark eyes and his lips brushing her knuckles on the shore at their final parting.

I wish, I wish, I wish. I wish I could’ve given you more than some black silk. I think I would’ve given you my heart had our voyage lasted another sennight.

What a struggle that final day aboard the Crow had seemed when Sansa had been busily denying her blossoming feelings for him, preparing to leave Jon behind and hoping for an amicable marriage to Joffrey. If only she could go back in time, scream at that girl and tell her to run away, to beg Jon not to row her to Dragonstone, to take her far away from these lands.

Sail me away, make me your woman. You don’t even have to marry me if you’ll only call me yours and keep me by your side.

Was she being punished for wanting him instead of the man she was promised to?  It seemed a terribly harsh punishment.  

Either way, it was too late now. Jon was gone, happy and free aboard his ship, she hoped, and this was her life, such as it was. She was not even to be Joffrey's wife now. She could've been happy over it. She almost had been. She should’ve known better.

“You’re still getting married, little dove,” the queen had informed her in that crisp, biting way of hers.

“But Joffrey said in Court...I don’t understand.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” Always so cruel. Always cutting her down and making her feel stupid. “You’re the seed of a traitor and not fit to be my son’s queen but my noxious little brother will marry you and perhaps he’ll treat you kindly. He’ll get a son on you and when the North is defeated and your brothers are all dead, your son will rule at Winterfell. You’ll still get to be a high lady, you see, which is better than you deserve.”

Sansa had sat there not knowing how to react, fearing a slap or insult if she showed her true feelings. Was she supposed to pretend she was happy to hear that her brothers were to die? Did Cersei really believe Sansa could rejoice over such a thing?

The door to her chambers opened and Sansa hurriedly tucked the pendant back down her bodice as Shae came in carrying a tray.  

“Milady, your supper.”

If there was one thing Sansa had to be grateful for it was that Shae and Jeyne had been permitted to remain with her.  All alone, she didn't know how she would find the strength to keep breathing.  They all thought Jeyne was even sillier than her and perhaps that was why they'd let her remain.  As for Shae, it seemed Tyrion Lannister had taken an interest in her maid and thus, she'd been allowed to stay on.  He was to be Sansa's husband so she'd asked Shae the other night if he'd been properly respectable towards her.  Shae had shrugged and said there was nothing proper about what he wanted from her but she was no fool.  It didn't bring Sansa much hope with regards to her marriage or Shae's happiness for that matter.  

Sansa glanced at the food Shae had brought and her stomach roiled. “I’ll fetch Jeyne.  She should eat.”

“She needs to eat. So do you,” Shae admonished.

“I know. I will.” Eventually.

Poor Jeyne. Her life was no better than Sansa’s except perhaps for the fact she was mostly ignored by the queen and Joffrey. Her father had been one of Lord Stark’s traveling companions. The steward had been killed along with all her father's guards the moment they'd set foot in the Throne Room with apparently no provocation whatsoever.

Jeyne had not learnt of it though until after Sansa’s father had been beheaded when Joffrey had cruelly forced Sansa to go and see his head upon a pike.  Then, he'd pointed out the others.  Sansa had been horrified and yet she'd refused to give Joffrey the satisfaction of seeing how it hurt her.  She'd stared blankly at the heads of her father and the good men she'd grown up knowing at Winterfell, telling herself Joffrey might make her look but he couldn't make her see.

Sadly, it had fallen to Sansa upon her return to their chambers to break the awful tidings to her dear friend.  It was then that she had cried with Jeyne who was nearly like a sister.

Sister. The word broke something inside of her but stoked a fire within, too. Her sister Arya. Robb, Bran and Rickon. Her mother. Winterfell. She wanted to believe she might see it and see all of them again. So long as she believed it possible, she would carry on, one foot in front of the other.

The three of them were sitting down to eat (or push the food around their plates) when there was a thundering knock on the door.  Ser Boros Blount opened it without waiting for an answer the next moment and Joffrey swaggered through.  What was he doing here?  What did he want this late in the day with her?

“Your Grace,” Sansa said, rising to her feet and curtsying as her ladies did the same.  “To what do we owe this honor?”

Joffrey looked around the chambers, a pleased gleam in those emerald green eyes that troubled her.  He’d pretended to take her pleas for her father’s life seriously and then that same look had shown itself.

“Get out.”

Sansa was confused for a moment.  Was she to leave her chambers?  Could she truly leave?

But Jeyne and Shae began to take hesitant steps away from the table and she realized he only meant them.  Why was he sending them away?  He didn’t care who saw her beaten.  He’d had her brought before him and made a show for a dozen of his courtiers when word had reached him of a Northern victory just last week.  Her back was still covered with red welts from it and her dignity still in tatters from their cruel snickers.  

Jeyne was trembling.  She was terrified of Joffrey and afraid she’d lose her own head when the whim struck him.  She might be right about that. 

Shae would not openly defy him but she did give Sansa a meaningful look, her hand dropping to her thigh.  Sansa was aware of the dagger Shae kept hidden there but what good would that do her if Shae was being sent away?

Ser Boros closed the door behind them and it was just Joffrey and herself in the room.  She felt short of breath.  Her chambers were far larger than the cabin aboard the Crow but the room seemed to shrink upon her.  Even when she’d first met Jon and feared he might rape her, she'd not felt quite so reckless, so desperate as this. 

“Are you delighted?” Joffrey asked mockingly as he made a circuit of her chambers, touching her belongings without permission, soiling them with his filthy hands. 

“Delighted, Your Grace?” 

What was she to be delighted about?  He’d murdered her father after drawing him here under false pretenses.  He’d tormented her and had her beaten.  He’d threatened to see every member of her family killed.  He’d cast her aside for his uncle to marry her and someday steal her claim. 

Sansa kept turning in order to keep her eyes on him, fearful of him drawing any nearer.  He’d never struck her himself but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t. 

“You’re to be a bride tomorrow.  Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I…I had wanted that.”  When I was just a girl who knew no better, when I’d believed you to be a very different sort of man. 

He moved closer.  She was between him and the table.  She looked over her shoulder and saw the paring knife she’d been using to cut her apple.  She thought of Jon, swallowed uncomfortably and faced Joffrey again.

“Yes, I know how you wanted it,” he chuckled.  There was something disgusting about how he said it.  It made Sansa even more nervous.  “My Uncle Imp is a poor substitute for me but don’t be too downhearted.  He’s generous with his whores.  He’s bound to be with you, too.” 

I am not his whore. 

“What’s that?” Joffrey asked, pointing. 

For a moment she was afraid he’d seen the chain of her necklace.  She didn’t want him to see or touch Jon's gift.  But it was not that.  He was pointing at the large garnet earrings Tyrion had sent her way as a bride’s gift, requesting that she wear the dreadful crimson things to the sept tomorrow. 

“Your uncle sent them to me.”

“Why?” Joffrey asked, plainly baffled as to why a man might give the woman he was marrying a gift.

“To be nice, I think.”  I hope so anyway.

“Nice?  He really is a fool, isn't he?  Expensive earrings won't make you forget what an ugly little toad he is when he's rutting between your legs tomorrow, will it?" he sneered.

She grimaced and took a deep breath, telling herself to be brave.  “Was there something you wanted, Your Grace?” Sansa prompted, hoping Joffrey might get on with the rest of his sick taunts or foul threats he’d come here to make and go.

“I was thinking more along the lines of something you wanted, my lady.”

“Something I wanted?”  I wanted you to not kill my father.  I want to go home.

“Yes, you just said you had wanted it.”  He was getting closer.  She could smell the wine on his breath when he said, “I won’t let you be denied, my lady.”

“I…I’m sorry, Your Grace.  I’m not sure what…”

She flinched when he raised his hand to her face, expecting a blow. 

This was worse than a blow. 

His thumb and forefinger carefully stroked her cheek.  If it were Jon standing before her doing that, she would be trembling with desire.  She was trembling but it was not desire she felt.  It was disgust.  She did not want this man touching her at all.

I will never be your whore.

“Please, Your Grace.  I’m very tired and tomorrow is a very important day.  I should recall my ladies and…”

The thumb and forefinger became a claw, pinching her cheek quite roughly.  She winced but did not resist.  That would only make him crueler.  She would go to the sept tomorrow with a large purple bruise on her face.  Queen Cersei would circulate some tale about how clumsy Lady Sansa was.  It didn’t matter.  She’d go marry Tyrion tomorrow without a word.  Perhaps he would treat her kindly and keep Joffrey away from her.  She could hope so at least.

“I don’t think it’s right for my uncle, the whoremonger, to have your maiden’s gift, do you?  I am king.  It should be mine, don’t you think?”

“No.  Please, no,” she begged, realizing at last why he was here and struggling to keep hysteria at bay.  She had to think, had to outthink him somehow until…

Until what?  No one is coming to save you.  No one will care.  His knights will only hold you down for him if you scream and fight.      

“I’ll get a bastard on you,” he said with a foul leer as he pressed himself against her.  She was wedged between him and table.  He was stronger than her.  She would still fight.  “My uncle won’t say a word.  My father had whatever woman he wanted.  Mother says he was wicked but she’s a woman so what would I expect her to say?  I’m a man with a man’s appetites like him.  I’ll still have you and have the Tyrell girl as my bride.  A king gets whatever he wants, doesn't he, my lady?” 

She was only half listening, her course already set.  He’d killed her father.  He was intent on raping her.  He was leaving her no alternative.  Kings didn't always get what they wanted.  

“With the right provocation, you might be surprised by the things you’re capable of, lass,” Jon’s voice said inside her head. 

Her hands scrambled behind her seeking…but coming up empty.

“Here’s good enough, don’t you think?”

Joffrey roughly turned her around to face the table, meaning to bend her over it, and that was all she needed.  Her hand closer around the hilt of the knife.  Wildly, she spun and slashed at him, screaming when the knife tore through flesh.

“ You’ll remember what I said about Dareon and the tavern?”

“I’ll remember.”

She remembered alright.  

Oh, she’d been somewhat vexed when he’d brought it up in his cabin that morning they’d spent together talking so companionably over his charts not long before Dragonstone had been sighted by Pyp.  He’d spoke of offers and concern for her well-being but, for a few seconds, she’d imagined Jon had been on the verge of making some declaration and her silly heart had been thumping away wishing for that. 

Instead, he’d been offering her a way out if her betrothed or her marriage didn’t suit her.  She hadn’t wanted to hear it.  His concern had struck upon her own growing worries over meeting Joffrey and what life at Court might bring.  She’d been nearly cross with him for making her think of the future when she’d just wanted to continue speaking of their pasts and present. 

Now, she was exceedingly grateful for his thoughtful information and offer.

“Send word via Dareon and I’ll come for you, whether it takes me a moon or a year to reach you. 

She doubted she had a moon, much less a year to wait.  She hadn’t run from some marriage to a wealthy merchant.  She’d murdered a king.  Still, where else could she go? 

“Tell him Ghost is hungry and the White Wolf sends his regards.  Tell him to name his price and I’ll match it.”

At the time, she’d not considered how much Jon was willing to sacrifice or risk for the sake of her safety and happiness.  Sacrifice and risk.  That was a sort of love, wasn’t it?  She was afraid to examine it too closely, to hope for too much.      

But would Dareon be at the tavern Jon had told her of in Fishmonger’s Square?  Would he help them?  Not likely if he knew who hunted them.  No matter how good of a friend he was to Jon, he’d be a dead man if he was caught helping her.  And how would he get word to Jon at sea?  And if he reached him, would Jon really come for her?  Had he forgotten her by now?  Fallen into some other woman’s arms and dismissed Miss Sansa Poole from his thoughts?    

Gods, after Sea Wolf’s brush with Fury, would Jon be willing to run such a risk with the Black Crow for the girl who would be wanted for regicide? 

That’s assuming we even get so far as the tavern to begin with. 

Ser Boros, Shae and Jeyne had been right outside her chamber door and heard Sansa’s scream and Joffrey’s gurgling shout.  When Ser Boros had burst into her chambers for the second time that night, he’d not been prepared for the sight that met his eye, his king bleeding like a stuck pig from the throat.  He’d not been prepared for Shae and her dagger giving him the same treatment either. 

“This way,” Shae murmured, holding each girl by the hand as they turned down a corridor. 

Sansa nodded numbly, still in shock.  She’d killed her golden prince.  She’d slayed her monster.  If the queen caught them, she would have them begging for death before she was finished with them.

She’d changed from her bloody purple gown of silk and velvet into the plain woolen black dress she’d made in Winterfell.  The color was appropriate.  And Joffrey had refused to allow her to wear mourning colors for her father. 

Jeyne had been clutching the shark's tooth that Pyp had given her to her breast while Shae had tossed a few items in a satchel as Sansa had switched out of her soft slippers and into serviceable boots.  Shae had handed her a matching shawl last and told her to wrap it around her head, to cover her red hair. 

“In here,” Shae instructed them as she came to a seemingly innocuous wooden panel and pressed it.  The panel was a door and beyond there was a stone passageway.

“How did you learn of this?”

“From a rather randy little man who thought to impress me by showing off the castle’s secrets.  Come along.”

Hours seemed to pass whilst they crept along the passageway but it could not have been too long.  It was still fully dark when they emerged from a rusted gate down by the water outside the castle walls. 

“Fishmonger’s Square is this way.” 

Sansa wrapped an arm around Jeyne who was nearly dead on her feet with fear and exhaustion and they followed.  She could hear guards shouting in the distance and horses.  She knew what that was probably about but she couldn’t think too hard on it.  If she did, she might be tempted to curl up in a ball and hide in the nearest corner. 

She followed Shae as they made their way to the harbor, hoping that Jon's offer might save them.

“Milady, they’re coming.”

It was late and they'd already been asleep.  Sansa’s heart started pounding at Shae’s words. 

Twenty-seven nights they’d been hidden away in the tiny attic above Dareon’s room above the Seven Lovers Tavern like mice.  Had the lions finally found them at last?  

All over Kings Landing, the Kingsguard and all manner of knights and watchmen hunted for Joffrey’s killer though some said she’d flown off like a bird from the castle walls that night.  Not a bird, a she-wolf with wings.  No one could explain how she’d managed to escape the Red Keep and evade her pursuers with nothing but two other girls to help her. The queen was said to be mad with grief...and rage.  

Dareon was growing understandably suspicious of his guests and their claim that 'Alayne' was fleeing an abusive husband but he’d told her to write three letters to Jon and then sent three sailors off with them to three different ports the night they’d arrived on the tavern’s doorstep when the singer had taken them in.  He’d relieved Sansa of her garnet earrings and all the gold Shae had had the forethought to bring but she would not complain.  He hadn't taken the wolf pendant at least.

“Please, not this.  It's Jon's.  He gave it to me but it wouldn't feel right to give it away.  It was his mother's, you see.”

The former pirate had rubbed his chin thoughtfully and nodded at last.  Whether he'd decided the pendant not terribly valuable or he feared Jon's wrath if he took it to sell, he'd let her keep it and she'd started thinking of it as a lucky token of sorts like Jeyne with her shark's tooth.  But Dareon could still betray them at any second if he chose to while they waited and waited. 

And, Jon wasn’t going to be lingering at Dragonstone, she knew.  Where would he have sailed to after he left her?  They had never discussed it.  What if he’d returned to White Harbor or further North?  He’d said he’d been raised at Eastwatch.  That was so far away.  It would take weeks for word to reach him and for him to sail back to reach her.  And if he was at sea?  Well, it wasn't as if there was much post being delivered at sea.  How could word possibly reach him and bring him here before she was nothing but another rotting head upon the castle walls?

“Even if he's turned privateer, Jon’s still part of the pirate brethren, miss,” Dareon had told her as if that explained it all when she’d mentioned her concern.  “We talk…to each other anyway.  And him and that uncle of his don’t steal from the smallfolk fishermen so they’ll help him out, too.”

“Oh.” 

A good man raised by a good man. 

Would she ever lay eyes on him again?

“Who’s coming?” she heard herself whisper to Shae.

"Is it Pyp?" Jeyne asked whilst grasping Sansa's hand under the blanket of their straw pallet where they lay beside each other.  

“I don't know.  Dareon said smugglers are coming to take us from here.”

“Smugglers?”

“That’s what he said.  Don’t tarry, milady.  It’s rainy tonight, good cover for us to flee but the City Watch will still be making their rounds.”

The residents of Kings Landing had been under a curfew since Joffrey’s death.  Being caught breaking curfew by the wrong watchman meant the black cells...or death. 

Deciding there was no point in questioning Shae further, Sansa and Jeyne sprang from the bed to throw on their dresses and help gather their meager belongings.  It could be a trap and they might be walking out to face their doom but what choice did they have? 

Once they were ready, they climbed down from the attic and into Dareon’s regular living quarters. 

“I cannot thank you enough for your kindness, Mr. Dareon.”

He laughed, amused by her courtesy.  “You’re a proper thing, ain’t you, miss?  Never mind.  Jon will be making up my ‘kindness’ to me for some time to come, I imagine.”

“Aye, that I will,” a voice said from outside the open door.

Sansa gasped and spun on her heel, never expecting he would come for her himself but her heart bursting with happiness because of it.  It had been so long since she'd experienced the emotion.  It almost seemed foreign to her. 

Dressed all in black from the black silk she’d given him tied around his neck to his boots, he wore a roguish grin...and an eyepatch.

“What happened to your eye?” Jeyne blurted out, stealing the words right out of Sansa’s mouth.

His grin broadened as he promptly flipped it up to show that he still possessed both eyes.  “Just part of our smuggler’s disguise for anyone lingering in the tavern below, Miss Jeyne,” he said with a wink aimed at Sansa.  “Davos hated letting me go since this is more his sort of thing but I could not resist…”  His eyes were still on her as three other men from the ship followed him into the room, Edd, Pyp and Halder.  He finished quietly with, “...a chance to stretch my legs again.  It's been a few moons since I was last ashore.”

So many moons, it seemed.  A lifetime.  

“All ready then?” Shae asked.

“Ready when you are, ma’am,” Jon said before addressing Sansa in a gentler tone.  “Are you ready, miss?”

She was still standing there in stunned silence but tears were blurring her vision.  She gave him a shaky nod before racing towards him.  

His strong arms clasped her tightly to him, his hands rubbing her back comfortingly as she buried her face in his neck and inhaled the smell of salt, fish and sweat.  It was finer than any perfume to her tonight.

Her body shook with sorrow and joy both. 

“Don’t cry, lass.  It’s alright.  I'm here,” that voice she’d missed so dearly assured her.

I know, her heart sang.  I know. 

Though she was tempted to with the way he held her so tenderly, she could not stay here weeping.  They were not safe yet.  She would not beg him to never let her go again either…but she prayed he never would all the same. 

Chapter Text

"Fool!  Fool!"

"Shut up, you bloody bird."

“For once, I might say listen to him.  This isn’t logic, Jon.”

“I told her she could count on me.”

“She’s safe with Dareon.”

“We both know that’s temporary, Davos.”

"How are you planning to get there?  You cannot sail the Crow right up to the wharf at Kings Landing."

"Crow!  Snow!  Corn!"

"The schooner we captured will serve nicely.  I'll take the spare chronometer.  Five men in a fast smuggling craft like that, we'll be in and out in a trice."

“You'd be risking our prize.  Makes me wonder what else you're willing to risk."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Oh now, don't you?  I see you shifting where you sit, Jon Snow, like when you was little filching bites of pudding before supper."

"Sometimes, it's very annoying sailing with people who knew me when I was little."

"Look me in the eye and tell me true.  If it came down to this girl or…”

“All three of ‘em. We’re going to fetch all three of ‘em.”

“Fine but what if it's these three girls versus the safety of our entire crew? Versus the Crow? We sail for the North…”

“They’re women, not Joffrey’s soldiers.”

“But if you had to choose between our safety and hers…what then, cap’n?”

It wasn’t that Davos wished them any ill. Quite the opposite in fact. But he was first mate and he was allowed to question Jon’s decisions (in private at least.) He was also allowed to point out how foolhardy this business was.

And that was before Jon had heard the latest news.

Guilt had eaten at him as he’d stared into those honest brown eyes, knowing his answer was probably not one a good captain would give. He had a duty to his ship and his men, one he took seriously, but he couldn’t ignore her plea after he’d told her she could write to him if she needed him. He couldn’t ignore his heart either.

“I’ll only take volunteers. We’ll be back in four days, five at most.  Rendezvous with us at...approximately 32° N, 16° W.  Two blue flares in answer to the private signal.  You have command until then and you know our rendezvous point with Sea Wolf should I not return,” he’d told Davos.

Kings, lords and their wars did not alter every aspect of the fraternity of seafaring folk. Brienne of Tarth sailed the Oathkeeper which was ostensibly a southern privateer but she owed a debt to Benjen and she would not deny his nephew a word or two of news when they met on the high seas.

It was from the tall, tough-as-nails woman that Jon had learnt of Lord Eddard Stark’s execution, the uncle he had no memory of but would mourn for Benjen’s sake, by King Joffrey.

“I wish I had fairer tidings to share, Jon. Give Benjen my sympathies,” Brienne had said.

An uneasiness had prickled at him since that day. His uncle had been lured South under false pretenses and murdered. This war would not be ending any time soon after such an egregious act. As a Northman, he was outraged.  As the kin of the slain man and his children, Jon’s blood boiled for vengeance even if he'd grown up far removed from the so-called luxuries of castle life.

He had never met his cousins though he recalled that the eldest boy was named Robb.  He would be Lord of Winterfell now.  He would marry a highborn maiden who would give him sons and daughters to fill his halls.  He would sleep in a feather bed, dress in silk and velvets when he wished and be called 'my lord' everywhere he went.    

What of it?  You shall sail your ship seeing lands far beyond the North and meeting people from every corner of the globe.  Who needs a drafty castle and fussy lords to appease when there's a solid deck beneath your feet and you can harness the wind? 

Admittedly, that had been his usual refrain from the age he'd grown aware enough to feel the sting of his status, just a bastard relation of a high lord.  He wondered if Lord Stark's children even knew of his existence.   

Oddly enough though, most of his thoughts had centered on Sansa after learning of Lord Stark's death. He wasn’t entirely sure why. Miss Sansa Poole was a Riverlander as far as he knew and was betrothed to a wealthy merchant in Kings Landing. Or married to him by now. The king’s crimes shouldn’t impact her daily life but he worried for her more than ever. 

His instincts had rarely led him astray though and he supposed this was another example for it wasn’t long after his meeting with Brienne that he’d encountered Black Jack Bulwer en route to Ragman’s Harbor with a letter addressed to him that had been copied a dozen times over in a short span of time.

He wished he had it in her handwriting but the message was the same, clear and succinct.

Dear Captain Crow,

I have arrived at your friend’s house after leaving mine. He has told me to write three copies of this letter and to keep it brief. Things are not well for us and I should very much like to leave if you are still willing to have us aboard your ship once more.

                                                                                                                                                                             -S. Poole

P.S. I wear your mother’s necklace finding comfort and courage in the wolf’s fierceness.

Jon smiled every time he remembered her post script.  She wore his mother's necklace and found some comfort in it.  Young as he'd been when she'd passed, he cherished his mother's memory but didn't regret passing the necklace on to Sansa.  

He had Sansa's entire message memorized and could nearly picture her voice speaking the words to him.  At present, he carried it in the inner breast pocket of his coat, a talisman of sorts, as they rowed ashore under the dark of night dressed as smugglers.

Glancing down at his black clothing, he fingered the black silk at his neck, the favor she had made him.  He hoped they could slip along the streets to Fishmonger's Square easily enough.  Four in the rescue party, like black knights disguised as down-at-heel smugglers.  The image made him grin thinking Sansa with her love of stories would appreciate the theatricality of it.

The next moment though, he was staring grimly at the Red Keep looming high above the harbor.  At least, his desire for vengeance was somewhat curtailed at present having learnt of Joffrey’s death. 

From what he'd heard from the local fishermen as they'd sailed down Blackwater Bay, a Northern girl who was set to marry Tyrion Lannister the Imp had slit the king’s throat in a moment of madness.

"She were that Stark girl from what's we heard," one man harvesting clams had told them as they'd been passing slowly by.  

"Stark girl? "

"Aye, Lord Eddard's little girl taking revenge for his killin'.  Turned into a bird and flew from her castle tower the moment the deed were done."

"What's his daughter doing here?"

"She weren't no bird," the man's wife had said, correcting her husband and missing Jon's question.  "Them Starks is wolves, you fool.  It's on their family shield thing."

"Sigil, wife.  It's called a sigil," the man had said with a sniff.  

"Yes, their sigil is a wolf but what were you saying about..."

"Well, whatever she is, I hope she can fly because once Queen Cersei gets her claws in her, won't be nothin' left of the maiden.  A million dragons should see her caught 'afore long."

"A million dragons?!

Jon hated to hear that.  She'd be a dead girl if she were caught and, with such a sum offered, her eventual capture seemed likely. 

Gods, everyone will be hunting her. 

Another thought had struck and given him pause then.  She would be my cousin though we've never met.  He had wondered if rescuing Miss Poole, her sister and Shae was all he was meant to do here.  Guilt was eating at him once again.  Benjen would want the girl saved but Benjen wasn't here. 

I don't know her and she doesn't know me either.  She likely doesn't even know that her aunt had a bastard son and I've no clue what she looks like.  I'm sure she's in hiding or gone away already.  The new Lord Stark may have sent some of his knights and men to rescue his sister.  Perhaps they'll find her and take her home.  There's little I can do for a cousin I've never met. 

He hadn't even learnt her first name before the clammer and his wife were too far away to continue their conversation.  For all Jon knew, the pair was still nattering away at each other about birds and wolves.   

Casting aside his concerns for the unknown cousin, a little wolf who had slayed a lion, he focused on the task at hand, helping the men prepare the small boat that four of them would row ashore to hopefully pluck Sansa and her companions off before they were ever noticed.

Jon also took careful note of the harbor and the number of war galleys sitting at anchor there.  Not nearly as many were out as he would expect with a war raging and a murderess to be found but then he'd always heard that the naval might of the capital was squandered with its ships left to rot at their moorings while their sailors whored and drank their way through the city before deserting to the more lucrative merchant service. 

Benjen would want to know this information and perhaps not be too terribly cross over his nephew's unexpected excursion when he told him his idea was not a bad one at all.  

Thunder rumbled over the city and Jon smiled when rain started pattering down on his head.  The City Watch would likely be staying indoors as much as possible tonight and any intrepid souls who ventured out would likely never see them all dressed in black.

Expelling a grateful sigh, Jon told the tired rowers the schooner was in sight at last.  Unlike a typical action, this sort of thing always left them all with jangled nerves to combat but it was nearly done.  The rain had stopped and the first hint of dawn wasn’t too far off but they were still under cover of darkness for now.  If his seamen’s instincts were correct, they should have a clear skies and a fortuitous wind to see them out of the bay again. 

“Almost there,” he told the passengers.

Shae nodded.  The two girls beside her only snored softly in reply, nestled together beneath his boat cloak after their short but anxious trip from Dareon’s to the wharf. 

The rain had been welcome as cover but, despite being accustomed to being wet quite often at sea, Jon knew it was not pleasant to be soaked to the bone for anyone especially landsmen and certainly not for two gently reared young ladies.

He could not help but notice the black wool dress Sansa wore and thought of her gift of black silk she’d given away so readily.  The wool would be horribly hot when the sun came out again and it probably felt dreadfully heavy with her skirts full of rain water.  He hoped she would not object to some seaman’s slops until her dress could be properly dried.    

“We’ll see you aboard and dry soon."

The girls were asleep and Shae only stared at him.  They had not brought any lantern for it would only have impeded their night vision but there was enough starlight and phosphorescence reflected off the water to see a person’s features.  He was growing uncomfortable under that stare.

“What are you thinking?” he asked quietly though Edd raised his eyes from his oars at the sound.

“Why did you come for us?”

“Because I told her I would come if she wanted me to.”

“Why did you tell her that?  She felt confident enough leaving you behind to marry her intended.  Why did you offer her a place to go before you’d ever left her?  Why did you run this risk for us?” 

Jon mulled over his answer, attempting to hide his childish sense of hurt over Sansa’s willingness to leave him behind for good whilst knowing he was entering shoaling waters with Shae if he hedged too much.  She wanted an honest answer from him and he knew her faith in him might not run as deep as Sansa’s.  

‘Because I’m a besotted fool,’ hardly seemed like a wise reply considering everything but it was an honest one.  But how much of his heart did he have to expose here with three of his men within earshot as well as the object of his hopeless affections who could wake at any moment right there? 

He opted for an honest but measured response. 

“When she was aboard before and as we got to know one another, she was very kind, a sweet girl, and I became concerned for her happiness and well-being.  I've taken my share of risks at sea but they are generally calculated.  Marrying a stranger seems quite risky to me, especially for a young lady who would be far from home and entirely under her husband’s authority.  It was a simple enough matter sailing down the bay and rowing ashore to reach you.”

Shae’s dark eyes studied him before flitting towards Edd.  “I have nothing to say when it comes to sailing a ship or rowing a boat but it can’t be so simple as you’ve made it seem.  Your men are aswim with sweat as much as rain and sea water and you owe Dareon a substantial debt now because of us.”

“The men volunteered to come with me.  Pyp and Edd were the first to do so.  Money is only money.”

“That’s a strange thing to hear from a man who wages war in a manner meant to profit him.  The risk…”

“Was mine to take.”  

He’d said it more sharply than intended.  He couldn’t help growing vexed over her questioning his motives even though he couldn't exactly blame her.  He'd tasted man's deceit a time or two.   

“Not just yours,” Shae told him, jerking her chin towards the others. 

“No, not just mine,” he relented.  "I would still have come...even if I'd had to come alone."

Shae sighed and he felt a fluttering of nerves for having admitted that much.   

They drew nearer to the schooner and he would have to wake them.  He wanted Sansa to share all that had happened with him when she was ready but he was also desperate to know how they’d fared these past moons.  Not well if the dark circles under three sets of eyes were any indication.

“What happened to her there?” he murmured.    

“Many bad things but she has survived it.  They never should’ve left her grandfather’s home or her father’s.  Never should’ve come here.  Is that man Chett still aboard?”

He’d been torturing himself over what ‘many bad things’ might mean and the swift change of topic caught him off guard.  “Uh…he is.  On board the Crow, that is.  Not the schooner.”  

Shae made a harrumphing sound and crossed her arms.  She wasn’t going to tell him any more of Sansa’s experiences.  Was it because he’d not rid himself of one or two troublemakers yet?  Granted, she has good cause to despise him.    

“We’ve not been ashore anywhere that I could set him or his friend down in good conscience.”

“Like on Dragonstone?  You could’ve left them there.”

“I’d hoped to see them set ashore in White Harbor but our return has been delayed as you see.  No sailors willingly linger on Dragonstone.  It’s a dismal place.”

“I’ve known more dismal ones.”

“As have I.”

“You could give them a hunk of cheese and set them adrift in a dinghy with one oar for all I care.”

He chuckled.  “They have sailed and fought for me for nearly two years despite being undesirable company but I’ll admit your idea is not without merit.  Dragonstone was still honoring the flag of truce when we were last there with you but it is part of the South and who knows who to trust since Joffrey cut off Lord Stark’s head.”

Sansa stirred uneasily just then and Shae shot him a glare that perplexed him before deftly soothing the sleeping girl with a soft word and a caress.  Whatever her past, the serving woman cared for these girls and Jon could never fault her brusqueness in other matters with that being the case.    

“When we rejoin the Crow, we’ll be sailing for the Drowned Isle and I have decided to be shot of the pair and maybe one or two of their closest mates there.”

“The Drowned Isle?  The fabled pirate’s paradise?  I thought that was just a made-up place, a story sailors like to tell.”

“Oh, there’s no lagoons filled with rubies, emeralds and mermaids nor any sea monsters guarding the port’s entry from what I’ve seen but the place is real enough.  All the best stories have a kernel of truth to them, do they not?”

“They do,” Shae conceded, wringing out her skirts and pondering her next words.  “The man she was to marry…there may be men sent after us to recover her, perhaps many men.  A reward might be offered.”

“Money is money as I said but I would never sell her for any amount of it.”  Not even the million dragons offered for my Stark cousin would sway me. 

“And your men?  Do they feel as concerned about her happiness and well-being as you do?”

He felt his face growing warm at Shae’s emphasis on that word ‘concerned’ and a growing disquiet at the thoughts of any of his men potentially taking sides against him in this matter.  He would need to tread carefully.  He had already acted more rashly than was wise in his desire to rescue her. 

Before he could form an answer to Shae’s question, the boat brushed along the side of the schooner and the two men left aboard were hailing him. 

“She did not marry him then?” he did manage to ask as Edd and Pyp jumped aboard to prepare a rope ladder in order to aid the ladies as they climbed aboard. 

“No, the wedding did not take place.” 

He was inexorably glad to have it confirmed but what else had occurred? 

Shae shook each girl by the shoulder, giving him no more of her attention at present.  “Wake, you little sleepers.  We’re here and safe thanks to our saltwater knights dressed in black.”

The trip down the bay was a short but an active time for Jon and the other men.  With only the six of them to work the craft, there was much to do aboard and, whenever there was any time for a man to take his ease, he was lying down to sleep an hour or so rather than entertaining ladies. 

It was just as well. 

The schooner was small and the accommodations cramped.  The three women were holed up together in what would’ve been the captain’s quarters though it was smaller than the store room they’d once shared for a brief spell aboard the Crow.  There was no occasion for private conversations or confidences to be shared.  He could bide his time.  One of the first things a sailor must do if he’s not to run mad is to learn at least a little patience for circumstances beyond his control. 

But just after noon was declared and everyone had taken their meal in shifts, Pyp spied grey topsails on the horizon.  Jon felt relief washing over him even more pronounced than he’d felt upon their return to the schooner. They had made it home again.  The Black Crow was his castle and he its master.  Four days was far too long to go not laying eyes on her if they were not ashore in home waters in times of peace.  

“No signal yet?” Pyp asked with thinly veiled disgust after climbing down from the tops where he joined Jon at the wheel.

“Not yet," Jon said, steadying the schooner to close the Crow. 

"He's higher up than me with more sea to see."

"We're smaller."

"Not that small."

"Satin’s eyes aren't so sharp as yours.”

“Satin’s got his head in the clouds, whistling some bawdy tune more than likely.” 

Jon suppressed his smirk, knowing that Pyp was probably right.  “We’ll send up the flares once they spot us and throw out the signal.  Edd, fetch me my watch, will you?  I’d like to see how long it takes them," he told Pyp when Edd ducked below to retrieve it.  

“Merciful Mother," Pyp snickered, "they’ll be feeling like proper fools if they don’t notice us soon and wondering how long you been ‘astanding here waiting on ‘em to.”

"Did you see anymore of our other friend?" he asked, coolly.  It was no friend but a lone war galley.  Not much larger than the Crow but far larger than the schooner he was currently commanding.  Pyp had caught sight of it early and they'd swung well around it.

"Nah, last I seen it was heading west again, back to mother's skirts, no doubt."

"Good."  The navy seemed reluctant to leave port too often which was good for them.  They'd be unpracticed and untried in battle if Jon was ever forced into one with them.  Hopefully, if they weren't so enormous as Fury, the Crow could hold her own pretty well.  

Pyp walked on to see to other tasks as Jon held the wheel, enjoying the opportunity to feel the schooner's ways through it and relish the salt spray of the open sea outside the bay.  He’d missed it.  Blue water sailing would always be his preferred sort of sailing. 

“It’s nice to see you smiling, captain.”

He turned at the sound of her sweet voice.  She’d remained below for much of the past 36 hours, sleeping a good deal from what Edd had reported, and he hadn’t expected her company this afternoon until word reached them that they would be returning to the Crow soon. 

His smile broadened and her answering one did as well.

“I will say the same to you, lass.  How do you fare?”  Thinner, exhausted and far sadder than I'd like, I fear.  

“I’m well, thank you.  I just wanted some fresher air.  It’s a beautiful day.”  She drew in a deep breath and he saw a flickering smile as she turned her face to the sun.  That was something at least.  

“Aye, it is and the winds have been kind.  Davos will be amazed at the speed of our passage.  It’s a shame I didn’t have a proper log aboard to write it down.”

“I know little of such things but it seemed a famous run to me, much swifter than the ship that took me from Dragonstone to Kings Landing.  It would make for suitable dinner conversation when we see him again…more than some things might,” she added quietly.  Seeing his frown, she changed her tone.  “Are we to take your cabin from you again once we rejoin the Crow, captain?  It hardly seems fair to foist you out of your private quarters with all the trouble I’ve brought you.”

“You’re no trouble, Miss Sansa.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Jon Crow.”

He grinned, pleased at her calling him by his first name even if she had the wrong last name.  He should tell her that.  Surely, a girl so sweet as Sansa no matter how much a lady would not cease to acknowledge him as a person for being born a bastard. 

His courage faltered though.  Now was not the time for such admissions.  Tis only a name, a seagoing one, like Black Jack, Red Tormund the Giantsbane or Theon's fiend of an uncle, Euron Crow's Eye.

“Well, to be honest, I spoke with Todder, our carpenter, before we sailed your way.  Assuming he’s not died on me or mutinied, the cabin has likely undergone some changes in my absence.  I hope you will not mind them.” 

“Changes?  How long do you mean to keep us aboard?  Are we to become part of the crew?  I don't know if I'll make a good sailor or not.  Not a drop of seawater in these veins.”

Keep you aboard?  I should like to.

Her tone was playful and he loved hearing it in contrast to the melancholy he’d remarked in her countenance more than once since they’d reunited. 

“Oh, we all have a drop of seawater in us somewhere, lass.  I suppose I could set you to swabbing the decks but, if you should wish to be of true assistance, I’ll hand over my raven to you to care for and feed the bloody corn he’s always calling for.”

“I can certainly do that,” she laughed, the tinkling sound a welcome one.  “But it sounds as though you’ve set poor Todder an arduous task.”

“It’s not so hard aboard, nothing at all for a skilled carpenter and his mates used to taking down walls when we clear for action and putting them back up again the moment the action’s done.”

“It sounds complicated but I will trust your greater knowledge in this matter.”

He bowed at the compliment and continued, “The partition will allow me to study my charts without disturbing your meager slice of domesticity aboard.”

“Our meager slice of domesticity aboard was enough for my liking and I didn’t consider you a disturbance.”

“Thank you.  I’ll have a place to lay my head so I won’t be hugger-mugger with the men at all times at least, something they loath greatly but will not tell me to my face.”

More laughter and it made him want to laugh as well.  “I imagine having the lord of the ship around at all times would make one weary."

"I'm no lord but the analogy is apt."

"But are you to be hugger-mugger with us instead?”

There was that sauciness he adored.  He’d feared it lost forever.  He should dearly love to be hugger-mugger with her in a hanging cot, too, but he wouldn’t dare suggest such a thing aloud. 

“Aye, as much as you’ll allow a dastardly former pirate not fit to wipe the boots of a lady such as yourself to be, Miss Sansa.”

Her smile evaporated like a cloud covering the sun and her sauciness was nowhere in sight.  “You’re more than fit for that,” she said, almost angrily.  He hadn’t meant to make her cross.  It was not anger though.  “You’re more than fit company for a stupid girl like me, Captain Crow.” 

She was blinking rapidly and he didn’t think the wind or spray was the cause. 

“Hey, now,” he said as her face started to crumple with emotion.  He took her by the hand and waited for her eyes to meet his again.  “That’s not talk I’ll allow aboard any ship I command, lass.  You’re not stupid, nowhere near it.  You’re as clever as anyone I’ve ever met in fact.”

She sniffed with disbelief.  “I should never have gone to him.  I’d pictured him as some fairy tale…as something from a story.  Even when I started to see the truth, I didn’t want to.  I kept telling myself I might change him, that things would improve until he...until he completely broke all my faith.”

His heart ached for her but he could not let her blame herself.  If anything, he blamed himself for letting her go in the first place, unsure of whether it was his misgivings or his desire giving him the most trouble.  And while he would not call out her father at the moment and possibly insult her, it was not Sansa who had agreed to the betrothal when she'd been all of eleven.

“It’s often easier to deny hard truths at first.  I’ve been guilty of it as well.  Do not resent your younger self her hopes and lack of experience.  You did not know him before you met.  It takes time to learn a person, to see if they are worthy of our faith and love.  It's never an easy thing when they prove that they are not.” 

“I have learnt some very bitter lessons whilst we were apart, Jon.”

“I’m sorry for that, Sansa.  More sorry than my words alone can express.  If you wish to talk…”

“In time, I will," she said with a beseeching look.  "A few days to settle and..."

“I understand completely.”

The silence that fell between them afterwards was touched by some slight awkwardness but no ill will.  He wished to keep holding her hand but had no excuse to.  Instead, they stood together watching the Crow grow larger on the horizon, nearly hull up now from deck even.  He’d have a word or two with Satin and whoever had command at the moment when they were aboard again.

He saw Sansa glancing down at her attire.  “Do you think my dress might be dry yet?  I feel strange dressed like this.”

“You don't look strange to me but I believe it is,” he said, turning his eyes up to the rigging where her dress and Miss Jeyne’s flapped in the breeze.  Two black frocks as opposed to the white he’d first seen them in and last seen them wearing on Dragonstone.  The black reminded him of the raven who would fly about the tops.  There was something symbolic there that he might put into words if he was given to poetry. 

“Shae has already declared she prefers these clothes to her dress though her dagger is not as easy to conceal,” Sansa said next, sharing what was clearly a confidence. 

It brought back some of their easiness from earlier.  “Aye, she’d make a bonny pirate, I believe.”

“Shae?  You think so?” she giggled.

“I do.  So would you, lass.  With your smarts, you could command our ship and I would sail her wherever you told me to go.”

She colored prettily at his words and he felt as puffed up as a gamecock making her blush.  The illusion was a touch romantic and maybe there was more of a poet in his soul than he’d thought. 

Speaking of confessions, Jon might’ve been stirred in the past by the sight of a fine woman wearing a pair of breeches and shirt belted at the waist.  With Sansa, he was greatly stirred indeed as it hugged her form in ways her dresses did not.  But there was no hiding how she and her sister had grown thinner in their time apart.  Had the beast starved them both? 

The poor girls.  Miss Jeyne had always appeared less bold than her older sister but, at present, she looked on the verge of tears or fainting dead away if she heard one harsh word.  Pyp had wished her well this morning and she’d grown teary and rushed back below, leaving poor Pyp perplexed and ashamed over speaking.

“Give them time,” he’d said to his friend.  He would do the same.  There were some hurts that only time could mend, he knew, and it seemed this was the case for their lovely passengers.    

Shae had been protective before but that seemed intensified.  She'd been whispering to the girls whenever Jon had laid eyes on them since they'd been aboard.  What was she telling them?  He hoped she wasn't instilling them with mistrust of him.

And, Sansa was definitely different.  She was still the same girl he'd sat down on the shore at Dragonstone but some of her sweet innocence was gone.  He regretted it.  Not that she was to remain an innocent all her days but he regretted that hard times had forced it from her.  Something had been broken inside her as she'd said but he also thought that maybe she’d grown back stronger from it in a sense...whether she realized it or not.  Jon only knew he'd never wanted her broken to begin with.

There were no bruises in evidence.  She’d been with Dareon for nearly a moon waiting for him to arrive but she’d stifled a yelp when he’d laid a hand on her back in order to help her up the rope ladder and he’d wondered at it greatly since then.  Had that man beaten her?  Was that why she’d left his house?  Even if they had not married, he may have taken liberties with an unprotected woman.  Rage surged through Jon’s entire body at the thought.

However, the girlish gleam of excitement she gave him the next moment soothed all his hateful thoughts.  "Shae said we're sailing for the Drowned Isle."

"We are.  I'm sorry I can't take you home or..."

She shook her head and relieved him of his concerns.  "Please, don't apologize.  I'm all astir to see them.  My sister would be so jealous.  She always speaks so longingly of having adventures."

"Not Miss Jeyne but Miss Arya, you mean?"

"Yes," she said, biting at her lip.  

She had told him her youngest sister's name before but for some reason it felt familiar now.  Sansa and Arya. 

Staring at her black dress above their heads again, he said half to himself, “Should you prefer, we might find other dresses for you and Miss Jeyne when we reach port.  The wool will be hot where we're going."

"Another dress?  It wouldn't be proper with us in mourning.”

“In mourning?” he gasped.  "Sansa..."

Her eyes had grown wide as saucers.  She looked alarmed, almost as if she’d confessed a secret sin.  At last she hung her head and spoke quietly.  “Yes, we received word when we were…that my father had been…he died.  I’m…”

She could not continue and he would not force her to.  He pulled her to him with one arm, murmuring words of comfort even as he kept one hand on the schooner’s wheel. 

"Come now.  There are hurts we're not meant to carry alone.  You once comforted me, lass.  Allow me the same privilege." 

The shoulder of his coat grew wet with her tears as he kissed her temple, wishing more than anything he could heal all her hurts. 

He did not let go of her even as the men forward stared back other their shoulders at them nor when the Crow finally spotted them and sent up the private signal.

He ordered Edd to send up two blue flares in reply and silently vowed he would never let this girl go again if she'd but let him hold onto her always. 

Chapter Text

“I don’t want to lie to him anymore.”

“You must. Your life, all three of our lives may depend upon it.”

“Jon would not betray us. He came all that way to save us. I trust him.”

“I know you do.”

“Do you think me a fool for trusting him after…”

“No, milady. You’re not a fool to trust him as he’s proven himself worthy of your trust. I trust him as well but what of some of the others? What if that Chett or his mates overheard something?”

“Jon is the captain.”

“One million gold dragons, milady. I’ve seen men do horrid things for a few stags and a loaf of bread. What would they do for a million dragons? They’d scrag him in a heartbeat and carry you off to Cersei though she’s just as likely thank them with a noose than the gold.”

“But…”

“The queen has sent her warships out hunting the seas for any news of Sansa Stark. The captain may do his best to avoid them but what if he can’t? We’re safer than we were but not safe enough yet. I know you’re…attached to him but you can’t tell him, not yet. I’m sorry, milady.”

“You mustn’t call me my lady.”

That conversation had taken place in the cabin shortly after they’d rejoined the Crow during a terrible storm when all the seamen had been on deck. Sansa could still recall the eerie way the lightning would highlight their faces during the tense discussion as the ship tossed and turned with the raven squawking and flapping about among them.

Shae had been telling her since they’d left the Red Keep to tell no one of what had truly happened or who she was but, after Jon had comforted her on the schooner when she’d told him of her father’s death, she had wanted to tell him everything.

It wasn’t news I learned of in a letter. I stood their helplessly as they executed him. My betrothed was no merchant. He was the king and I killed him. Never in a thousand years would I have thought I’d kill anyone. I’m not sorry for it either.

But Shae had a good point and Sansa didn’t wish to endanger her or Jeyne or Jon for that matter. She would remain silent regarding certain truths a little longer though someday she would tell him. She longed to open her heart to him…in more ways than one.

She had not remained utterly silent though.  Very quietly one morning after breakfast when she'd found herself alone with Jon, Sansa had devised a way to tell him a little of what she safely could.  It was silly perhaps but he'd not scoffed at her.  Jon and his crew had risked much for their sake.  Jon might owe Dareon a great deal of gold, though he refused to say anything more than 'money is only money' on the matter, but Sansa didn't think there was enough gold in all of Kings Landing to cover the debt the three of them owed their rescuers.

"If I were to make a guess at something about you, you could answer true or false.  You could then have a turn to make a guess about me.  But if it was something someone didn't wish to answer, they can cry 'quits' and the game would be done."

His smile had been puzzled at first before he'd caught on, nodding in agreement.  "The winner is whoever doesn't balk and cry quits first then?"

"We both win if we learn a little more of each other, don't we?"

"Aye.  You go first."

"Your mother had dark hair like you."  

"True.  Your mother's hair is red."

"True.  You secretly love that bird of yours."

"Quits."  She'd gasped, shocked that he would end the game so quickly but then he'd started chuckling and answered, "True." 

On the game had gone with little pieces of themselves being shared over the remainder of the morning's coffee.  But the guesses had grown more serious as Sansa had known they would.  She did not mind.

"You've had a lover," she'd asked, feeling particularly bold at one point even as she'd blushed and partially dreaded the answer.  

"True."

"You're secretly married."

"That's more than one guess but false.  Never been married. Your father's house is in Oldstones."

"False.  She was a pirate."

"One of them was."  Her eyes had widened quite comically she was sure which made him laugh.  "You made the guess, lass."

"What was she like?"

"I cannot answer true or false to that.  Do you really wish to know?"

She'd bit at her lip, her boldness fading.  "Not today."

"As you wish."  He'd made his next guess with as much delicacy as he could muster.  "You are still a maiden."

"True.  You loved your pirate lady more than anything." 

"False."  Oh, how that unbearable tightness she'd felt in her chest over his past lover loosened at that 'false.'  "Your betrothed was not what you'd expected."

"True but you know that."

Before she could make another guess of her own, he'd pressed on.  "He was cruel."

"That's more than one guess."

"Tis only fair."

"Very well.  True." 

" He beat you."

"True...and false."

"I don't understand."

"He did not strike me.  He had others do so."

"Others?!  What sort of beast was he?  What did he..."

"You must make a guess."

He'd deliberated before saying, "He is looking for you and you're afraid of being found."

"Quits.  I'm sorry but I don't wish to play anymore right now."

"Sansa...I promise, I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe."

"I know you will," she'd sighed, taking his hand.  "Please, may we go on deck and look for the dolphins again?  You said we might see them in these waters before long." 

He had not argued though she'd felt wretched for the pained expression he wore the whole time they'd searched the empty sea for sight of the large and playful fish.  

Nine days later after sailing southeasterly with the winds so kind as they crossed the Narrow Sea, they found themselves nearing the coast of Essos and in warmer waters.

Her sorrow was still with her as was Jeyne’s but they were not so continuously conscious of it like they’d been in the Red Keep nor in such a high state of anxiety as they’d been in Dareon’s attic with their grief pressing on them like millstones in the night. Their sleep was less haunted and food no longer tasted like ashes in their mouths.

Honestly, it felt like another world sometimes where Sansa could nearly pretend Kings Landing and its horrors had been nothing more than a bad dream. It was in a way; a wooden world, self-contained but free where their only real worries were the wind, weather, state of their stores and sailing their ship ever onward whilst surrounded by the same fifty-odd people all of which were men save Sansa, Jeyne and Shae. She did not mind. She liked to think she could almost be called a member of the crew by this point.

“Red! Red! Corn!” the raven squawked, stirring her from her half-dreaming state this morning. Red seemed to be her name to the raven’s way of thinking (much as a bird thought about things) though he also called her others.

“It’s not polite to be so demanding this early,” she grumbled as she held her pillow a bit tighter. It still smelled faintly of him even after days of laying her own head upon it each night.

“Wench!”

“That will get you no corn at all,” she said, primly.

“Lass!”

“Alright then, you beastly bird,” Sansa muttered, rising at last to appease her task master…not that she truly minded. She liked the raven and enjoyed feeling like she was providing some small service to Jon by caring for it but he had not been far off the mark when he’d considered naming it Nuisance.

She poured a small amount of dried corn in the dish she’d appointed for the raven’s meals, no more eating it straight off the table. Shae was already up apparently as she’d taken to sitting with Edd Tollett in the mornings when he might attempt to fish off the bow if the ship was not sailing along too swiftly. 

Shae was also taking a keen pleasure in that dreadful Chett being set to clean the heads every morning until further notice since it had wound up being him acting as look-out when the schooner had been sailing towards the Crow.  He'd lost at dice to Satin the previous night and struck the boy who was closer to Arya's age.  Jon had been incensed to hear about it when they'd rejoined the ship and between that and failing to keep a sharp eye out, the lout was given that odious duty.  Sansa felt it served him right.   

She called to the other occupant of their half of the cabin. “Wake up, Jeyne. Breakfast will be coming aft soon.” Sansa was rather proud of her bits of sea jargon she had picked up.

Jeyne merely snored in reply.

“Suit yourself. I’m going on deck as soon as I eat to see if the Drowned Isle is in sight yet. Perhaps I’ll ask Pyp if he’ll lend me his telescope and…”

“I’m up!”

Sansa giggled as the other girl rolled from her hammock still pink from sleep but blushing as well. Having recovered somewhat from her heartbreak and strain, Jeyne was no longer hiding below deck.  She fancied Pyp without a doubt just as Sansa fancied Jon. I more than fancy him. Maybe Jeyne more than fancied Pyp.  She'd fashioned a bit of twine and lace together so that she might wear Pyp's shark tooth as a necklace just as Sansa wore her wolf.

"He came and saved me, took me from that evil place like a hero of old," her friend had sighed just the other night.  They did share a love of stories and, while Sansa could argue it was hardly all Pyp's doing, she wouldn't diminish Pyp's role in that.    

A shadow fell but briefly. She knew Jeyne’s father wouldn’t have considered a simple seamen like Pyp an ideal match for his daughter any more than Sansa’s family would consider a privateer captain like Jon suitable for herself.

But they are not here and who knows what tomorrow will bring?

It was her current philosophy and she was clinging to it tenaciously.

Thus, the shadow of families and expectations passed and all Sansa could see was the sunlight reflecting off the water through the stern windows. She heard boots pacing across the deck above her head. She knew his particular tread by now and grinned.

“I’m going up now but just for a moment.”

“Sansa, you’re not even properly dressed yet!” Jeyne gasped, scandalized.

She was still in the plain cotton shift she wore under her dress and slept in. It was not in the best of shape with near constant wear for over a month now and very little water aboard that could be spared for washing.

“Very well, I'll put on the breeches and shirt.”  She still felt funny in anything that wasn't a dress but the black wool was horribly hot.  Jon’s offer of other dresses might have to be considered, practicality might win out over the formality of dressing in mourning wear. I mourn you greatly, Father, no matter what colors I wear.

After she finished her ablutions with the meager amount of water in the pitcher they were allowed, she patted her bun she’d been forced to wear for the past several days since her hair was desperately in need of a wash and looked into the hanging mirror. What I wouldn’t give for a lovely bath. For today, she would have to make do.

Spying Jon’s coat where it had been laid aside last night, she pulled it on over her clothes as Jeyne gaped at her brazenness. “Mother Above, you cannot return it to him whilst wearing it!  You're not the captain!”

She probably shouldn't.  She would though. “He will want it back.  I won’t be long. I'll invite him to break his fast with us if he wishes.”

She surveyed herself in the mirror once more.  Still barefoot and wearing breeches and a man's coat.  No, this was no proper attire for Lady Sansa Stark at all.  Six moons ago,  she might’ve swooned dead away at the thought of it. We are not the girls we were. 

“That eager to see our valiant captain, are we?” Jeyne asked with a smirk. It was Sansa’s cheeks which were turning pink now.

"Perhaps."

They both dissolved into giggles when the raven squawked, “Aye, Cap’n!”

And, when Pyp’s voice was heard calling out from high above, “Land ho!”, Jeyne was quick to throw on her own set of seamen's clothes and declare that she was going up, too.

The two girls made their way towards the ladder, passing Shae who only raised an eyebrow at their attire before telling them of the fish Edd had caught which part of would be fried up to break their fast.

“What kind of fish did you see this morning, Shae?” Jeyne asked. Yesterday, they’d spied dolphins frolicking in the ship’s wake for the first time and all three of them had been quite taken with the charming creatures.

“No dolphins but I did lay eyes on a new one I hadn’t expected,” the older girl laughed saucily though she did not explain herself before carrying on.

As they emerged on deck, Jon was impossible to miss standing by the wheel and speaking with Davos. His lips twitched into a wry grin as he gave her a subtle bow. She supposed the fact she was wearing his coat amused him. At least, he was not displeased.  His hair and beard also appeared to be dripping wet.  There was even a ring of wet around him.  Had the poor man fallen in?  Why had she heard no cry of 'Man overboard'?

She made her way to the side while he continued his conversation and Jeyne went forward, no doubt hoping Pyp might catch sight of her from his post up at the top of the mainmast. Sansa would wait for him to join her since she did not wish to be in the way or considered a nuisance like the raven. She knew he would come when he was free so she took the opportunity to enjoy the natural beauty of the sea and sky today and their ever altering palate of colors.

Just last night, the stars had come out, glowing silver pinpoints shimmering on the black water with the indigo skies overhead. The sailors had sang, told stories and played games with dice, a pleasant cacophony of noise. And Sansa had stood by the taffrail with Jon as he'd pointed out distant planets to her.

“How can you tell which ones are stars and which are planets without charts like the maesters in the Citadel have?” she’d asked, telling herself not to swoon when he leaned closer to help her adjust her hold on his telescope as his hot breath tickled her ear.

“They don’t twinkle like the other stars and, while they do move, they don’t move in conjunction with the ones around them and seem to have their own paths to follow.”

“What a wonderous thing if they had people living on them just like here. I had never considered such a possibility but now I cannot stop thinking on it.”

“I remember when my uncle explained it to me and feeling much the same.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten or so when he began to teach me navigation.”

She’d dropped her head. “I was being taught to dance, play the harp and embroider at that age. Your education was a far more practical one.”

“Perhaps for a seaman but by land, you need not know that many stars to find your way by night. And besides, lass, to dance is a joyous and pleasing exercise for many, the harp creates beautiful music and embroidery has practical applications as well as aesthetic ones." 

She loved the way that he saw value in her for who she was. She didn’t think she’d met even one man in a hundred who would ever say the same to her. 

"Are you cold?” he'd asked next.  

She’d shivered at his words and his closeness more than the night breeze but nodded and he’d put his coat around her then, begging her pardon as he did so.  She'd worn it until she'd climbed into his hanging cot last night and drifted off to sleep thinking of him.  She'd dreamt of him as well and it had been nothing she could repeat aloud to a living soul, not even Jeyne.

“Have you come to return my coat, lass, or does the Crow have a new captain?”

She turned, completely disarmed by that devastatingly fetching grin of his, and could not help grinning back at him like a completely besotted girl.  Which perhaps I am. 

“I have come to return your coat as I’m afraid I would have us dashed against the rocks of some lee shore in no time were I to keep it.”

“Perish the thought, miss,” he said with something resembling piety.  Nothing seemed to frighten sailors so much as a lee shore.  They dreaded a shipwreck more than drowning or sharks even. 

Speaking of which, he was dripping wet still. 

“Did you fall in?” she blurted out, fearing it was an impudent or stupid question but wanting to know all the same.

“No, lass.  I dove in.”

“Dove in?”

“Aye, the waters are warm and it was refreshing first thing.”

“But with the ship moving, didn’t you fear being lost?”

“No.  We’re cruising along at a sedate enough pace for me to dive off the bow and pull myself back up at the chains aft.” 

Sansa could nearly picture it.  He was strong and it made for quite a dashing image of him manfully hauling himself aboard again in her mind.  “Oh.  But your clothes are not all wet.”

He lowered his voice, his cheeks a touch pink when he said, “I don’t wear ‘em when I take a dip, miss.”

“Oh…OH!” 

Sansa covered her mouth and started tittering and then thought of Shae’s strange remark.  She had not thought of that, of swimming in the ocean without clothes though she recalled many people did so in the hot springs at Winterfell upon occasion. 

And now her dashing image had a new element to it...one which she didn't know if she was more peeved to admit she couldn't picture as clearly as she wished or shocked that she should be so scandalous as to wish for that image 

“I think you were spotted.  Shae mentioned seeing a strange fish she did not expect.”

“I…uh…”  If his cheeks had been pink before, they were scarlet now and that only made Sansa laugh harder.  “I had imagined that all of you would be below still.”

She shook her head and soon he was chuckling with her, saying he would have to keep a weather eye out for more than sharks before he took another dip. 

“I’m quite jealous.”  His eyebrows shot up towards his hairline.  “Of you swimming, I mean!”  Or maybe I’m jealous of Shae seeing you unclothed as well even from a distance.  Yes, she was decidedly jealous of Shae's early morning luck.  I really should rise earlier.  It's quite unseemly to lay about too long when everyone else is up so early.  “I’d give anything for a nice hot bath but a swim sounds delightful, too.”

“Does it now?  Well, perhaps we can work out something when we reach shore for you and the other ladies.”

“Truly?”

“Aye, there’s a lagoon I know of inland that should serve and is remote enough and easy to guard the approach of.  It’s no proper bath perhaps but the water is the freshest you can imagine and you’ll have privacy.”

“Oh, yes, that’d be…thank you,” she murmured, her mind suddenly abuzz with images of some secluded tropical island lagoon…and her there alone with Jon.  She touched her rapidly warming cheek.  “I heard Pyp’s cry but don’t see any land,” she said next, indicating the expanse of turquoise blue waters before them and trying to still her pounding heart.

“We’re not close enough to see it from deck yet but it’s there.  I can feel it.  By noon, you’ll see the Drowned Isle for yourself though and perhaps you’ll walk upon its shores before nightfall if you wish.”

“I should enjoy that very much.”

“Of course, I will beg you to stay aboard when I say so and to always have a suitable escort when ashore.  The Drowned Isle is not what I’d deem a safe place for a lady alone.”

“I will obey your wishes, Captain Crow.”

"Snow."

"I beg your pardon?"  He had said the word quietly and she was completely flummoxed as to why.  

"It's, um...Snow actually.  My name is Jon Snow.  I've been called Crow for the past few years since I got the Crow but..."

Again, Sansa found herself surprised this morning.  First by the realization of him seabathing in the nude and now that she had his last name wrong.  Just as he has mine wrong.    

As she absorbed this latest piece of information, she saw his expression growing shuttered.  "Of course, it's a bastard name in the North and I'm sure a lady like yourself doesn't have many acquaintances who are..."

She laid a hand upon his forearm, feeling the warmth and strength there under his damp shirt.  "You mistake me, captain, if you think my silence is censure.  I just hadn't expected it.  Mr. Flowers was someone's natural son and I didn't think ill of him for it.  I certainly could never feel any sort of superiority over you, my rescuer and true friend."

A glimmer of that smile again.  That was better though her guilt over her own deceits ate at her.  Yes, she had met a few Snows in her time around Winterfell and elsewhere in the North.  As a young girl, she might've thought it made a difference but she knew better now.  A person's character wasn't their name, title or the story behind their birth.

"Thank you, Sansa," he said softly.  "I didn't think you'd...well, I do prefer to just be known as Crow here.  It's easier in a way.  The term bastard doesn't sting like it did when I was a boy but..." 

He colored and Sansa wondered how much it still stung him at times.  People could truly be wretched at times and, the higher up they were in society, the more wretched some of them grew.  It was a great mark of his faith in her as a friend to share it, she suspected.  She would not give him reason to regret doing so. 

"Anyway, I wanted you to know my true name."

Oh, didn't that tear at her conscience?  She truly hated lying to him.  Soon.  Soon, I will find a time when we are safe and no one is about and I will tell him the truth.     

"I am honored to know it.  I am proud to know you, Jon Snow."  She pulled the wolf's head pendant out from under her shirt, thinking to ask Jon some more of his mother. 

But just then, a brilliant colored bird flew right overhead causing Sansa to gasp.  It was predominantly gold but she also spotted blue, green and white feathers along with its large, black hooked bill.  She stared, amazed, as it circled the mizzenmast before finding a perch to its liking.

“Is that a parrot?!”

She’d only seen its feathers ornamenting ladies headpieces or men’s fancy cloaks in Kings Landing until now.  She’d heard of them though and that some of them could talk.  The living bird was much more preferable to view with its feathers where they belonged instead of decorating the clothes of lords and ladies. 

“Aye, it is.”

“She’s absolutely beautiful!” she exclaimed, her mouth still agape. 

“It is, but if you’ll forgive me, I believe it is a he.  Like most birds, the male’s feathers are more eye-catching than the females.”

“That hardly seems fair to the poor she-parrot,” she said with a frown. 

“Fair?” he asked, amused.

“A girl likes to feel pretty, captain,” she explained with a pert nod.

She loved the sound of his laughter.  “Aye, but a lad hates to be ignored by a pretty lass so I suppose the prettier feathers are meant to help him out.  I believe in this particular bird though, the ladies are quite beautiful in their own right.  But oh, what’s this?” he asked, jerking his chin over his shoulder.  “I’m afraid this ship already has a resident talking bird who does not wish to be cordial to our guest.”

“Crow!  Crow!  Fool!”

Sure enough, the raven had made his way up from below and was now harassing their new addition.  Raucous cries filled the air and Sansa covered her eyes when a flurry of gold and black feathers floated in the breeze until the poor interloper was vanquished, flying off back towards the island no doubt. 

“That was very rude!” Sansa sternly told the raven who was perched on the ship’s wheel no less.

“Aye, cap’n!  Corn!”

“No corn for an inhospitable host like you.  Couldn’t even let the poor fellow take his ease for a few minutes before sending him on his way, could you?  You should be ashamed.”

Jon was chuckling at them both when the raven cocked its little head his way.  “Corn!  Snow!  Crow!”

“Oh, don’t expect me to take sides with you against her.  The lady makes a very good point.”

“Red!  Corn!  Lass!”

“No.  And if you call me wench, you’ll have no corn from me tonight either.”

“Milady!  Stark!”

Sansa’s amusement curdled in an instant at the bird’s new words.  Never had she heard it say those words and she wondered if the bird might repeat something else from that private conversation with Shae held in the cabin days ago during the dreadful storm. 

She glanced along the deck as a nervous fluttering filled her tummy.  There were over a dozen men there including Chett and Clubfoot Karl.  She turned towards Jon next who was looking at the bird queerly.  

Desperate to draw attention away from the bird that might talk her right into the queen’s clutches, Sansa grasped for something to distract her companion.  She laid a hand upon his arm, giving him a winning smile that seemed to do the trick.  “I was meaning to ask from the moment I set foot on deck, would you wish to join us for breakfast, captain?”

"It would be my pleasure, miss," he said, offering his arm to escort her below. 

The raven followed them.  “Corn!  Milady!  Corn!  Red!”

Yes, you’ll get your bloody corn if only to cease your squawking.

Chapter Text

“What news, Satin?” Jon asked as the boy hauled up the lead.

“Three fathoms, cap’n.”

Not nearly so much room between his hull and the seabed as he might like but acceptable.

“Keep her steady,” he said to the helmsman and returned to his pacing.

The approach to the Drowned Isle’s bay was a navigational nightmare which was why it was spurned by the naval powers of Essos and Westeros. The island was like a mountainous letter C sat down on its side in the ocean with sheer cliffs on the outer wall. Someone long ago had said the actual island was drowned and only the rim of it remained, thus its name.  The narrow passage to pass inside of that remaining rim and reach the beach and port was littered with hidden underwater reefs, rocks and eight centuries worth of shipwrecks caused by the former hazards.

Of course, the pirate brethren loved a challenge and making ones way through the Harpy’s Cunt, as some long-dead and likely lonely mariner had labeled it, and into the calmer waters of the bay was the first mark in one’s favor that you were a seaman at the very least and might not be shot the moment you set foot on shore.

The Drowned Isle itself had become a haven and headquarters over the years for pirates and vagabonds sailing the Narrow Sea.

As for the island’s original inhabitants, the natives who had dwelled here time out of mind when the Children of the Forest had existed in Jon’s homeland, there were only cave drawings and a few crude infrastructures remaining to indicate they had ever lived here. The Valyrians had come some millennia ago with their warmongering hordes and dragons and had taken them all off to be slaves in their mines before the Doom.

These days, the few score of permanent residents on the island hailed from places as varied as Skagos and the Summer Isles, ranging from the Jade Sea to Mossovy, every one of them united in their desire to live their lives as they pleased without governance from any kings or lords. The pirate brethren came to these shores for refuge and succor and had found it…for a price. Overall, it was a peaceable enough place these days.

“Well, that might be up for debate,” Jon heard Pyp telling Sansa and Miss Jeyne as they eased their way past the last of their obstacles so that Jon could draw a proper breath again. “There’s plenty who get up to mischief here of a sorts so it’s best if you ladies keep a weather eye out ashore.”

“Yes, the captain has asked that we not go ashore alone,” Sansa replied and Jon was pleased that she’d remembered.

He’d mentioned taking her to the lagoon, his longing to fulfill her wish for a bath very strong for reasons he wouldn't examine too closely here on deck, but it would likely need to wait for tomorrow with the sun well above their heads and calls to make first. The brethren council would expect their toll to be paid and Jon had been given a mission by Benjen before he’d headed off to rescue Sansa. He hoped the delay of a few days had not been costly.

We made good time. If the winds had been against us, we could’ve been every bit as long getting here even without going for the women.

Thus were his words to his guilty conscience as they passed the last of the reefs and fully entered the wider, deeper waters of the bay.

The water was the richest turquoise and the skies above a deep cerulean. The two blues were cut in half by the line of land between them, golden sand on the beach with the green tropical forests and dun-brown mountains behind it.

Picking up on his tension during their passage through the entrance, Sansa and her sister had kept out of the way since they’d arrived on deck, content to watch the palm trees draw nearer. Now that the difficulties were behind him, Jon paced over to join them.

“It’s beautiful,” Sansa said, nodding towards the land.

You’re beautiful, he thought. “There's no mermaids, hidden treasure or sirens ashore, I'm afraid."

"I do not need them to think it a magical place."

"That magical place is hot and sticky on land once you leave the beach behind.”

"I can tolerate some heat and humidity, captain," she said with an arched brow.

"For certain.  But the island has a troupe of monkeys who are greater thieves than any pickpocket I've seen in Pentos.  They'll steal the shoes off your feet even as you walk if you're not careful."

"I've seen performing monkeys at...in Kings Landing.  Enchanting creatures."

"I like dolphins better." 

"They are delightful when at sea but I'm sure the monkeys are amusing ashore."

"Aye.  But just to warn you, the port has its share of right hard-bargains and other sorts of troublemakers." 

“I believe every city and town does but I trust you to keep me safe, Jon."  Well, didn't that make him swell up with pride?  "And, I’ll still declare the island beautiful.”

“And I will not argue with a lady," he relented at last.  "I’ve a call or two to make before I bring you ashore but I'll send word via the boat's crew and have you brought over if you wish.” All appeared as he would expect but he would want to make certain before risking the women’s safety. There were no fortifications guarding the inner bay and he could turn the Crow around and sail her back out again if necessary with the winds as they stood right now.

"That would be lovely.  Pyp or Edd perhaps?  We're quite comfortable with them."

"Aye, probably both of 'em." 

Edd would probably be ready to mutiny if Jon didn't send him ashore with the women, an old mother hen if ever there was one.  And Pyp, the poor pining soul, would be agreeable Jon was sure considering Miss Jeyne was part of the party. 

He wouldn't be sending them ashore with Chett, that was for certain.  That conversation was looming before he'd go ashore.  He dreaded it but there was no use whining or delaying.  It was a long time coming and the man glared at Shae and stared covetously at Sansa far too often and openly for Jon's peace of mind.    

"Thank you," Sansa said as he noticed Miss Jeyne had flushed scarlet beside her.  He hoped the girl was not too overcome by the heat.  They really would be better off in something other than their wool dresses though he respected their wish to honor their father's memory.  However, he did wonder at the circumstances that had occurred when they'd left the home of Sansa's betrothed.  They'd had trunks galore when he'd taken the galley.  They'd left Kings Landing with little more than the clothes on their backs.  

“Sea Bitch is here,” Davos said from behind him, interrupting his thoughts.

"Very well."  He saw Miss Jeyne’s eyes widen and Sansa’s grimace at the name.  Good thing no one told them passage's name  “That’s a ship belonging to an acquaintance of mine I'd hoped to find here,” he murmured low for the ladies' benefit.

“Oh? A friend of yours?”

“Sort of. More like a pain in my…well, we have worked together before and sometimes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"Is he a privateer like you, captain?" Miss Jeyne asked.

"No, miss.  He's still a pirate through and through.”  And I would not trust him alone with either of you for long.  

They both nodded, looking intrigued as he tried to think of how to describe Theon. Pain in one’s arse seemed pretty accurate but he wasn’t all bad. Jon remembered him wearing his enormous hat with its ridiculous feathers and diamond brooch the last time they’d met. As ornamented as that parrot we saw earlier.

Deciding he was unequal to the task, Jon merely declared that he would introduce him if they should run into him ashore. 

Two hours later, Jon had rid himself of two bad apples aboard and hoped their rot had spread no further.  Chett and Clubfoot Karl, who never knew when to shut up, would be on the lookout for a new ship after Jon had called their mess into the cabin.  The other three men had kept their silence except to say he was the captain and they'd as soon stay as otherwise and would respect his commands.  It hadn't been a pleasant conversation but, with Davos by his side, it had gone smoothly enough.  Jon had given the two men every last groat they'd earned plus a bit extra to set them up until they found other employment.  Surely, there would be someone looking for prime hands who didn't have two maidenly girls and their saucy, dirk-wielding serving woman aboard his ship.

That was at his back now, like the wake, and he hoped salt water would wash away any hard feelings in time. 

Ahead of him, Jon wasn't entirely sure of his course.  He had orders from Benjen but he also needed to have a conversation with Sansa about what she wanted and where they might go from here.  He couldn't keep her aboard forever, much as he might wish to.  He didn't wish to encounter an action with her aboard either as he feared he'd be too focused on her safety to handle things competently.

And yet, part of you dreads that conversation very much.

That was too true.  He didn't want to think of sailing her to some port and leaving her behind, not one bit.  He'd left her on the shores of Dragonstone and what had that brought about?  Danger for her and heartache for them both.  

Resigned to put it from his mind today, he walked up from the harbor along the packed dirt road under the tropical sun, sweat beading his brow long before he reached his destination.  

Having already sent the boat’s crew back with word to Davos that all was well ashore, Jon stood on the threshold of the Pestilent Parrot Tavern inhaling the roasted pork and rum mixed with tobacco that seemed to envelope the establishment at all times with his very own annoying talking bird in tow.  No, he had not intentionally brought it any more than a person might intentionally bring pestilence to this island paradise.  But the raven went where the raven pleased having wings and a mind of its own rattling around inside its little bird head somewhere and it was pleased to follow Jon today. 

“Given my druthers, I’d follow Sansa about if I were you,” he told it when it perched upon his shoulder with a great ruffling of feathers as they made their way indoors. 

“Aye, cap’n!  Snow!  Red!  Lass!”

“Yes, yes.  Now, pipe down.  We’ve important business to see to here.”

The bird did indeed pipe down, something akin to a miracle as far as Jon was concerned, as someone else was soon shouting his name.  “Jon Snow!  Why, I’ve not seen the likes of ye in many a moon, boy!” a great voice bellowed.

Even before Jon’s eyes had fully adjusted to the gloom within after the brilliant sunlight outside, he knew who spoke perfectly well.  “Tormund, it’s good to see you.”

Well over six feet tall with a mouthful of gold and bushy red beard that matched the hair on his head, Red Tormund and his Giantsbane were greatly feared on the Narrow Sea by the fat spice cogs and gold galleys it hunted down.  However, while he was ruthless towards his enemies, Jon knew a kind heart beat under all that furious bluster and the captains of the craft he took for prizes were forever amazed to tell their friends and loved ones how Red Tormund had told them he was in a generous mood that day and this time he would let them go without bloodshed.   

The two men clasped forearms and Tormund called for a bottle of the island's finest rum (rot gut stuff if ever there was any) before leading Jon to a snuggery where they might speak privily.

The table was sticky to the touch and, all things considered, Jon thought he might eat elsewhere later.  Not that he was usually at all particular over those things but Sansa...well, she'd taken up residence in his mind a great deal and it would be a lie to claim otherwise and now he was forever looking at things to see how she might view them.  Heddle's was a more agreeable place to take a meal.  Perhaps he'd take Sansa there if she wished.

"Still got tha' ruddy bird of yers?"

"Snow!  Bird!"

"I do."

"Never got desperate enough to eats 'im in lean times?"

"Eat him?  He's a raven, Tormund."

"So?  Very wise little birdsies.  Met a man once who told me if's ye eats a raven, ye learn all 'is secrets."

"But...he eats dead things."

"Corn!"

"And corn.  I don't want to know any secrets that badly."

The big man simply shrugged.  "'Ave it yer way then but we eats fishes an' they eats us, Jon Snow."

"Very profound of you but I think I'll stick to eating fish over ravens."

"Eats fish over ravens, aye.  But now's yer in port again, I imagine tha's not all ye'll be interested in eatin'," Tormund said with a leer before casting a look Ros' way and tossing his head back to bark with laughter, showing off every single one of his gold teeth.

Yes, once upon a time, he might've had that in mind.  Unless a man were inclined to seek his comfort amongst his fellows aboard, and obviously there were a few who did, it grew awfully lonely at sea with only one's hand for company in the night. 

Unlike several of his contemporaries though, Jon was not given to dallying about every time he set foot ashore, ever mindful of his mother's experience.  Plus, Benjen and Davos were steady family men who had instilled those values in him. 

There had been Ygritte, his first lover, the daughter of a pirate turned pirate herself.  He'd been barely more than a boy when they'd met though and it had ended with her threatening to gut him.  He hadn't been able to share that little fact with Sansa during their true/false game.   

Beyond Ygritte, there had been Ros who he'd met here five years ago, a tavern wench who had taken a liking to him.  But it had been a good while since he'd come to call upon the island and it wasn't as if Ros was hanging about awaiting his return.  She'd made it very clear from the start that she didn't expect faithfulness from him and he was not to expect it from her. 'Just a bit o' fun,' she'd labeled their time together and it had been but that was not all Jon Snow was seeking from female companionship.  He wanted...more.  

So no, he had no intensions whatsoever of calling upon Ros whilst he was in port this time.  The only woman he might enjoy in that fashion was lying in his cot each night already but sadly, without Jon.  And he doubted that was going to change.  

As if she'd been summoned by Tormund's leer, Ros stopped by to speak, giving Jon a friendly welcome back and asking if he'd be spending the night ashore or on his ship.  

"On the ship for this stay in port, Ros, though I hope you've been well," he said politely, declining the veiled invitation as civilly as possible. 

She said she was dandy and sauntered off again with a grin and instructions to let her know if he had a change of heart. 

"Mind your business, you arse," he said to Tormund who was waggling those bushy eyebrows of his.  

"Arse!" the raven squawked.

"Watch it, bird," the pirate warned him.  "I'll eats you if 'e won't."  

The raven flapped his wings, thoroughly angered and flew around the table to shit right on top of Tormund's head.

Jon's eyes widened in horror.  Tormund was mellow enough most of the time but he did have an almighty temper when riled.  Would Tormund shoot his bird?  He didn't want anyone shooting his bird if it wasn't him.  (And no, he didn't truly want to shoot the raven either.)

But the man only barked laughter again, declaring it such good luck.  Jon would've pointed out that being shit on by a bird was considered good luck at sea but not necessarily while seated in a tavern.  And Jon couldn't recall anytime when he'd been so blessed himself that anything exceptionally lucky had occurred afterwards.

Never mind, he decided as Tormund wiped at his head with his hand then rubbed it along his breeches indifferently.  We've already clasped arms at least.  

He and Tormund continued to pass odds and ends of information while they waited for their bottle.  Ros delivered it at last saying it might not be enough to quench a parched man's thirst and winked.  Whereas once he might've attempted to wink back, he merely squirmed where he sat.  Definitely Heddle's for any dining ashore with Sansa.    

“And wha' brings ye 'ere to our little siren's 'aven, Jon Snow?" Tormund asked when they were alone again.  He bulled ahead before Jon could even reply.  "The North and its woes, no doubt.  A shame about your uncle."

"Thank you and yes."

"But ye know I’m no soldier.”

“It's not soldiers Benjen means to recruit.  It's sailors and ships.”

“Sailors an' ships, aye.  But what profit is there in privateering tha' a man can’t make as a pirate, eh?”

“I am not here to press men into service by any means.”

“Gods forbid, Jon Snow.  I should 'ate to feed ye to the sharks.”

“But Benjen has sent me to parlay with some of you in hopes of gaining a larger force for the North.”

“Their navy is larger than the North’s.” 

“Aye, more than twice its size but it’s all mostly at anchor in Kings Landing from what I spied a short time ago.  Benjen’s hoping to bottle them up in harbor with a large enough force of us.”

“A blockade?  That’s no fun.”

“I’ll grant you that,” he said, ruefully.  “But the life’s blood of Kings Landing’s wealth comes via shipping these days.  We trap their ships in harbor while the soldiers of the North keep hitting them where it hurts in the Westerlands and Riverlands and perhaps the new boy king and his council will be more reasonable than his brother.”

"It's the mother who rules, ain't it?"

"Her or her father, I believe, but it's worth the chance."

“I take yer meaning and the North being free wouldn't be a bad thing but will anyone 'ere care?”

“I hope so.  In the end, we’ll all suffer from this war come winter and if we can end it, the better off everyone will be.  That’s why I want to speak to the brethren council.”

“Do ye now?” the older man asked thoughtfully while stroking his long red beard.  “Well, as I 'appen to be a member of tha' council and 'appen to like ye somewhat, I 'pose ye'll get tha' chance.”

Jon grinned, relieved to see that he could still count Red Tormund as a friend.  "Thank you, Tormund.  Have you seen much of Greyjoy lately?"

"Which one?" Tormund spat.  He was not overly fond of the Iron Islanders though there were some he tolerated and some he would shoot on sight.

"Theon."

"Oh him.  Sea Bitch just arrived 'ere yesterday.  Tha' crew of scurvy dogs and their captain are all still busy making every whore in this port bow-legged at present from wha' I 'ear.  Every doxy will be a-jingling as she walks with coin for the next several days at least.  Har! Har!" 

"I see," Jon grumbled.  Getting Greyjoy's full attention might prove difficult then.  And it's not like I'm all that eager to gain it.

There was another reason he wasn't eager to introduce Theon to Sansa, too.  Theon had his moments but he seemed to think anything in skirts was fair game for tumbling and, while Jon didn't think Theon would force himself upon any unwilling woman these days when there were plenty who would spread their legs for a bit of coin, the Iron Islands were in his blood and he had a rather inflated sense of his own appeal to the opposite sex.  He would try his damnedest to woo a beauty like Sansa, would see her as a conquest or a pretty bauble to show off.  Jon couldn't stand the thoughts of watching it.  Not that he thought she'd be susceptible to Theon's dubious charms but it would likely drive Jon to madness and behaving rashly if he had to watch him make much of an attempt.  

Nevertheless, he was supposed to speak with Theon as well at Benjen's request.  

"Well, if you should see him, will you tell him I'm looking to have a word with him?" he asked Tormund.

Jon’s duties on behalf of his uncle with the brethren council kept him far longer than hoped and the hard ground under his feet appeared to be moving like his deck due to the amount of liquor he’d drunk to keep up with the likes of them as they’d talked.  They’d been as resistant to Benjen’s plans as Jon had expected them to be but willing to listen anyway.  That was all he could ask for at the moment.    

Dusk had already fallen as he made his stumbling way along the port’s main street towards the harbor.  He passed other several rag-tag groups of seamen and their women, half a dozen taverns, including the more reputable Heddle’s, and more than a few brothels but also a handful of shops with various though limited wares to sell.  The island had a meager economy of its own between the locals and the regular seagoing visitors that kept them afloat.    

One shop in particular caught his eye.  It was run by Kojja Mo from the Summer Isles who spoke a variety of tongues and offered an array of dresses and finery for the island’s women to indulge their varied tastes.  Granted, the majority of women here were whores and tavern wenches along with the occasional female pirate who came to call but any woman could walk into Kojja’s shop and be made to feel like a queen, he’d heard.  Women like Ygritte might turn their noses up at most of what was offered but Ros had told him once that no woman of sense would turn down silk underthings against her skin. 

Jon came to a swaying pause at the display window where a dress of dark blue silk hung.  Barely-there sleeves and of a shorter length than what was considered respectable in Westeros, Jon doubted a lady like Sansa would ever willingly wear it…but he would surely love to see her in it.  The dark blue would highlight her lighter blue eyes and set her hair aflame.  And the silk might almost be as soft to the touch as her skin.  It wouldn't chafe it like that wool dress of hers might. 

He stood there like a besotted boy for who knew how long pondering Sansa in the dress before he came back to his senses.  Where had the day gone?  Was it only this morning that Sansa had flushed so prettily when she'd informed him that Shae had caught him a-bathing?  The memory made him start grinning, not that Shae had spied him but that Sansa had almost appeared envious over it. 

Aye, you'd like to believe that.

Regardless, he was sorry that the day had passed so swiftly.  Davos had sent word via Satin earlier that the ladies had gone to shore for a brief spell but he assumed they were back aboard by now with night falling.  

Growing cross when he realized he’d not seen her since before noon and missed his chance to walk upon the shore with her today, Jon thought to invite her to go over early the next morning with him.  

Not inebriated, you won’t.  Edd probably wouldn’t let you past the cabin door reeking of rum.  I could hardly blame him for it but so much for taking her to the lagoon this day, he thought, feeling sorry for himself. 

She had wanted a chance to bathe she’d said.  He could easily see to it that the place was guarded so that Sansa, Miss Jeyne and Shae would not be intruded upon and gawked at.  He’d issue an invitation through Edd tonight if it wasn’t too late when he returned or first thing before breakfast even.  She would be delighted and smile.  Jon smiled widely just thinking of Sansa's smile.

Satisfied with his decision, Jon found his unsteady feet leading him towards that very lagoon.  It’d been a long while since he’d seen it himself though it was quite a walk.  It was beautiful at any time of day but in the twilight it was a bewitching place of wonder.  It did feel unnatural walking about on land all day after so much time at sea.  He'd certainly  be knocked up by dinner tomorrow with all this running about but, in his current hazy state, he didn't care.  

The sand beneath his boots had turned from gold to silver under the moon and the evening breeze was refreshing after his spell in town surrounded by humanity and its odors.  He made his way down the shoreline spying the glow that his men would call faery lights shimmering along water's edge as he drew nearer to the lagoon’s rich waters.  A learned man from the Citadel had once told a young Jon during a voyage that it was called phosphorescence and explained the phenomena.  Jon had been fascinated but he couldn’t blame his men for their more fanciful stories about how the glowing lights came to reside there. He should like to show it to Sansa...assuming she would ever consent to a moonlit stroll with him.  Edd would likely insist on acting as chaperone, he mused and started chuckling to himself.

The far-off roar of a waterfall met his ears and he knew he was getting close.  It was at the deepest and most-inland section of the lagoon, where fresh water poured into it from the mountains and mixed with the seawater.  It was not so salty there and a person felt truly clean and new after a dip in the Siren’s Pool as it was known. 

Speaking of sirens, for a moment Jon almost imagined he heard one, a wavering, ethereal voice singing in the falling tropical darkness.  It was hypnotic and he followed the sound, wondering if there truly was magic and sirens on the Drowned Isle after all.  

But, he heard a man’s voice next and the singing, if it was ever real to begin with, stopped. 

He could not make out the man's words but he did sound somewhat vexed.  Jon had a pistol and short sword.  He did not fear the stranger.  He would go and see the lagoon and tomorrow bring Sansa here to it.  If there was a man bathing in the pool this evening or more than one, Jon would go on his way.  If not, he might take another dip himself.

He came upon a wealth of palm fronds that concealed the favored entrance of the lagoon from view…and found Edd and Pyp standing there nattering over something.

“What are you doing?” he asked them and received guilty looks in reply.  He wasn’t sure why.  He’d made arrangements with Davos for the men’s leave prior to going ashore.  He’d just never expected to find them both here at this time of night.  "Was you going to bathe in the lagoon together?" he asked, teasingly.  "I can certainly leave if you wish."

“We told 'em we should get headed back with it growing dark,” Pyp said, ignoring his jest.

“They only laughed an’ said a bit longer, the little minxes,” Edd scowled.

"Who?"

“They started off standing and gaping at the waterfall and saying as how it was a place of enchantment."

"That was Miss who said that.  And soon they started a-splashing each other and then us."

"That was Shae who splashed you first, Edd.  You didn't seem to mind so much then."

"Aye but then she started pushing us to go back here and said we’d better not peek none or she'd cut us up for bait."

That definitely sounded like Shae to Jon but none of this was making a great deal of sense.  Jon just felt like laughing at their peevish expressions and then maybe lying down to sleep off his rum.  

“But this weren’t Shae’s doing, cap'n,” Edd added.  “Which both 'em girls was quite beside themselves as soon as they set eyes on the waters but we told ‘em…” 

“Don’t go blaming Miss Jeyne.  Her sister was the one who asked to see it since Jon had told her of it.”

“What in seven hells are you two talking about?” Jon chuckled, still thoroughly unsure what this was about.

Before either man answered though, a decidedly feminine voice was shrieking from the other side of the palms, “OH!  YOU SNEAKY LITTLE FIEND!  COME BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!”

It sounded an awful lot like Sansa.  Her continued cries were joined by other voices from farther off, the other two ladies.  Something wasn’t right. 

"Is that Miss Sansa?" he asked angrily, worried over her safety while these two fools stood here bickering.

“Well, aye.  It’s her but…” Edd began.

However, without any further explanation from Edd or investigation, Jon ran through the fronds with his sword drawn, ready to protect his lady from whatever hazard had invoked her indignation.

And no sooner than he burst through that dense foliage, did Jon find himself face to face with Sansa…a completely naked Sansa. 

He was quite certain that his jaw dropped at the same time hers did.  His mouth kept opening and closing but no words were coming out.  He would guess he resembled a fish considering she did the same, both of them staring, too shocked to move or articulate words.

His subconscious mind, the part in which his Aunt Lyessa and his mother had tried to foster some gentlemanly considerations, was shouting that he should turn away at once.  But that rather rum-soaked former pirate within was having his way, too.  He most assuredly had no great desire to turn away.  And, for a handful of heartbeats, Jon found himself standing exactly where he was and shamelessly memorizing every inch of satiny pale skin on display with her wet, wine-dark hair clinging to her shoulders and breasts and the matching thatch between her legs drawing his eyes more than once and making his mouth water. 

“Oh, Captain Crow!  You must go at once!” he heard Jeyne squawk in outrage, sending his befuddled mind the jolt it needed to get him to act at last. 

“I…I didn’t meant to...my...I didn't think you'd…” 

A droplet of water dripped off one lovely pert nipple just then and he licked his lips before he could help himself, his rational thoughts scattering once more. 

Sansa, emerging from her own state of surprise, hurriedly crossed one arm over her chest and cupped her womanly mound with the other hand though he caught a fleeting glimpse of a grin as he whirled.  He didn't even have to ask what the earlier hullabaloo was either when he did for he spied one of the island’s monkeys with Sansa’s white shift grasped between his little paws, chittering at them all playfully from his perch just out of reach.

“Gods, be good,” he swore before throwing out a sincere if flustered apology over his shoulder.  "I do apologize most earnestly, miss, for..."

“You're forgiven, captain, but perhaps you’d be good enough to recover my shift?” he heard Sansa say from behind him with more than a hint of amusement peppering her tongue. 

“Aye, t’would be my honor, miss.” 

He heard a splash as Sansa rejoined the other ladies in the water, the three of them soon giggling merrily over the business as Jon struggled to outwit a demon shaped like a monkey so he could preserve his lady’s modesty from any other men ashore. 

The little bugger was stubbornly proud of his prize and it was a frustrating and embarrassing affair for the man and a highly amusing one for the monkey and Jon's audience who failed to entirely smother their laughter when he landed on his arse after an unsuccessful attempt to climb the palm. 

"If any of you should like to get out and try..." he said, half-indignant and half ready to join them in their laughter.

"Oh, we're quite grateful for you assistance, captain.  Have another go at that tree now!  We believe in you!" came Sansa's cheeky reply.  

In the end, he was triumphant with the shift but the blasted beast and his friends had made off with Sansa’s black wool dress.  She did not seem to mourn the loss of her mourning gown at present though as she kept darting shy glances over her shoulder at him as the group made their way back towards the ship's waiting boat and giggling about her knight. 

"Were you singing earlier?" he asked quietly at one point when the other four were busy with their own discussion.

"A little," she admitted, biting at that plump bottom lip most invitingly.

"I thought the rum was playing tricks on me or that might truly be a siren at the Siren's Pool."

"No, not a siren though I told you the island appeared magical to me," she laughed.  

No, she was no maritime danger but Jon would take his oath that Sansa was every bit as captivating as any mythical siren ever dared dream of being with her blue eyes that a man might drown in sparkling in the moonlight.  "And have you had enough adventuring ashore?"

"Not remotely," she answered, smiling at his playful tone.  "Though my dignity suffered some..."

"It was never my intension to..."

"I know.  I'm not angry that you saw me especially considering you thought me in peril.  I'm only minorly embarrassed when I think on it now."

"Well, um...good," he gulped, trying very hard not to draw the image of her naked to mind just now.  "So, since you've seen my lagoon already, perhaps you'll join me ashore to see some other sights tomorrow and we may pay a call at the dressmaker's shop if you wish."

"I would like that," she said, glancing down at her sodden shift and boots.  "I suppose I could go about the port in seaman's attire but that's..."

"Not you," he finished with a grin.  His lady preferred dressing as befit a lady and he did not mind that one bit.  That dark blue silk might not be entirely proper in Westeros but what might Sansa think of it here on her island of magic?  

"I don't have any money."

"It would be my honor to buy you something."

"I owe you so much already."

"Let us not speak of obligation, you and I, hmm?  You would be happier in a dress and it would make me happy to buy you one."  

She smiled and nodded.  "Thank you, Jon."

As it was for this night though, Miss Sansa was rowed back to the ship near midnight wearing the captain’s coat once more over her shift along with Jon's hat.  And, Jon glared like the very devil at every man on deck, daring them to say one word about it, before he escorted the ladies below, knowing what he'd be seeing the moment he shut his eyes to rest tonight.  There'd be a sinful smirk on his lips all night, he'd wager.   

Chapter Text

“What am I to do with you all dripping wet this way, lass?”

“You could hand me something to dry myself, captain.”

“Aye…or I could join you perhaps.”

Seven, save me, please do.

“Corn! Milady!”

At the raven’s cry, Sansa startled awake after a fitful night’s sleep, cheeks flaming remembering the dream and at the realization that her hand was between her legs under the blanket at present.

If her dreams from the previous night had been nothing she would willingly repeat, the one she’d just experienced was doubly so. Triply so. Her heart was pounding, her skin felt hot and too tight, a throbbing ache consumed her.    

Sweet Maiden, how do I face him like this?

You faced him easily enough after it happened last night.

That was true. Where had that courage come from? She supposed it was owing to the fact that she trusted Jon implicitly for one thing.

And you might be falling in love with him. 

Was she?  Could she be?

Sansa realized she'd never been in love before so it was hard to be certain.  What she was certain of was that no hazy, girlish fantasies about her golden prince in the past had ever come close to the depth of feeling and longing she felt when she was with Jon. 

The Siren's Pool had been a pure tropical delight, better than her most vivid imaginings from childhood picture books.  The fresh water had felt so good after days and days of indifferent bathing.  Pyp and Edd had both been saying they needed to get back to the ship with it growing dark but Sansa hadn’t wanted to leave the lagoon once they’d led them there.

Naturally, Jon would come along and spy you just as Shae had spied him yesterday morning.  

Initially mortified, she’d been able to laugh at the whole matter before long what with her friends in the water with her, Jon giving them quite a show as he attempted to retrieve her clothes, as amusing as any farce she’d seen performed on stage, and then Edd Tollett scolding his own captain thoroughly afterwards for barging through the bushes without listening.

Their walk back to the ship together had left her feeling like she was floating along on air even as her tummy had been all aflutter.  He'd asked if she'd been singing.  She had been.  She'd been singing a very old song of a knight happening upon fair ladies bathing and thinking of Jon as she did so.  Clearly, the island was as magical as she'd said earlier.   

Once they’d been back aboard and alone in the cabin, the three women had laughed over the entire incident all over again.  In the end, she couldn’t say she was remotely sorry to have been spotted either. She had been revealed to him, exposed, and she should be horrified but she wasn’t. And if her body’s exposure didn’t trouble her unduly, neither should the truth’s.

She would need to find a way for them to be alone ashore soon.

Jeyne had giggled she would’ve swooned dead away if Pyp had come upon her in such a state.

“You would’ve swoon dead away whoever the man was,” Shae had teased before adding, “I wasn’t sure who was more likely to swoon between the pair of you, miss. If I was surprised by my fish yesterday morning, I believe the captain was quite overcome at the sight of his mermaid.”

“Mermaid? Was he?” she’d asked, hopefully.

She wanted to believe it. It wasn't that she believed Jon was indifferent to her but did he feel the way she did?  That was a good question.  

But, even being slow to turn last night, he had been quite gentlemanly for a former pirate so far.  Regrettably gentlemanly.

Regrettably? Are you such a wanton now?

Perhaps.

In her dreams, he was not quite so gentlemanly anyway.

Flushing still, Sansa sprang from the hanging cot to wash her face. The lagoon’s waters had felt heavenly last night. She hoped Jon might let them go again. She hoped he might take her there this time.  She hoped...

Behave yourself, an inner voice which sounded suspiciously like her old septa’s said.

“You’re up early,” Shae said slipping from her hammock.

“Yes, I wanted to see the sun rising across the bay.”

“Oh?  The sun, is it?  Sure it wasn't a moon you was looking to see or perhaps a strange fish?” Shae asked, laughing.

“Moon! Snow!”

“I’ve no notion of what you mean,” Sansa answered primly as she haphazardly filled the raven's dish with corn.

"Lass!"

“No, of course you don’t and I suppose Edd telling me as how they don’t do much fishing or sea bathing when they’re in port won’t matter to you either,” Shae said with a coy look.

“They don’t?" she pouted before she could stop herself.  Shae cackled as she continued, "I mean, that makes perfect sense. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be sorry to not sit with Edd while he fishes.”  Sansa attempted her own coy look. 

Shae liked Edd.  There was no doubt of that.  But how much did she like Edd?  Sansa had seen the seaman grinning when Shae had splashed him last night by the lagoon.  She'd seen the soft, besotted look in his eyes, too.   Maybe she might like him the way Jeyne liked Pyp and Sansa liked Jon.  Why not?  He was a good, honest man who showed them respect and caring.  Why shouldn't they all be happy after all the dreadful things they'd gone through in Kings Landing?  After all the no doubt dreadful things Shae had experienced in her life that Sansa had no notion of? 

It's not a play, silly girl. 

Couldn't it be?  What's wrong with the good people being happy in the end?  

“Well, I might confess that I will miss his quiet chatter while he casts his line but I’m sure there’ll be amusements here.”

“With Edd?”

Shae smirked but did not answer that. “You’d better hurry up on deck if you want to see the sun rise, milady.  I mean, miss."  

Ignoring Shae's slip, Sansa did hurry up on deck and was rewarded with a spectacular view of the sun pulling itself from the turquoise sea like a fat lemon eager to resume its more regular orb shape. Shading her eyes, she watched for several minutes until it had accomplished the feat. 

There is so much magic in the world.  Even though there's so much horrible, there's still magic, too, she told herself.  

“You’re up early, lass,” a familiar voice said from beside her. He was completely dry so she had not missed any sea bathing…nor caught him at it. She couldn’t complain. His company was enough.  His expression grew concerned when he noticed the tears on her cheeks.  "Are you alright, miss?" 

He didn't need to worry, the dear, sweet man.  She wiped away the tears the sun’s brilliance had caused and grinned at him. “I'm right as rain and it is early but I simply couldn’t wait to start our day.”  I couldn't wait to share it with you.  And didn't that sound a lot like love?

It was not a magical lagoon by moonlight but Sansa was fascinated by the port’s town all the same.  There was an element of the familiar mixed with the exotic everywhere she looked. 

Sailors in straw hats strolled along with gaily dressed women at their sides.  Yes, she might have seen the same in Kings Landing but there’d be no parrots flying over their heads or palm trees swaying in the breeze behind them there. 

Dogs and little barefoot children darted between food stalls, begging for treats.  But instead of puddings, biscuits or shortbreads, they cried out for sticky, sweet rice cakes or bananas rolled in some sort of breading, fried up in a pan over a cookfire and served with sauce. 

She saw a man singing a merry but unknown tune cheerily outside a tavern and grinned at him…until he turned around to relieve himself all over the bromeliads. 

“Which it’s early to be piss drunk already an’ you skipped a verse, you sod,” Edd told the fellow curtly as Jon ushered the ladies to the other side of the street.    

Unfortunately, poor Pyp was still aboard the ship with duties to perform so it was just the five of them.  Sansa had hoped Jon might've taken her hints about how pleasant it would be if Pyp might join them but he'd been frustratingly obtuse (though a cheerful obtuse), saying Pyp would be free again later to view the town with his mates.  Jeyne had been downcast initially but the port had given them enough distractions to pluck her from her melancholy, thankfully.  

Carts rolled down the dirt streets except they were pulled by goats instead of horses.  As Jon explained, very few had bothered bringing horses to this spit of land in the middle of the sea but goats and pigs had been brought at some point in the past and thrived here.

“The island’s roasted pork is the tastiest you’ll ever find.  I cannot equally recommend the goat but it is a staple here as well,” he added as he tossed a coin to a little urchin looking longingly at a sweet stall.  “Ah, here we are, ladies.”

Sansa glanced away from the happy child to see he had brought them to a halt before a shop.  Looking in the window, she could barely rein in a covetous sigh when she saw a lovely blue dress on display.  Jon was grinning at her when she met his gaze again.  

Jon had said he would take them to the dressmaker’s shop first and she was suddenly so glad of it.  They entered and were met at once by Kojja Mo.  Tall and slim with skin as dark as Sansa’s was fair, she was a beautiful woman with kind eyes and a smile that was rarely absent.    

They had barely gone past opening courtesies when the Summer Islander gave Sansa’s seamen’s togs an appraising look, glanced up at Sansa’s face and then over at the beautiful blue dress in the window and clapped her hands decidedly. 

“I’ve the dress meant just for you, ocean eyes.”

“Ocean eyes?  Do you mean me, madam?”

“Yes, lady.  As blue as the waters that surround my homelands in fair weather.”  Sansa heard Jon making what sounded like a hum of agreement.  She turned his way blushing as Kojja Mo took note of him.  “Oh, and here are ocean eyes as well.”  She stepped over to him, peering into his face as if he might solve some riddle for her.  “Yes, yes…ocean eyes, grey like the sea after a storm.  The stormy sea and the calm, they are the same waters though they look different at first glance.  Come, try the dress on,” she said as she removed it from the display window.  “Your man wants to see you in it.”

They both stammered over Kojja Mo’s mistake regarding their relationship but the woman only laughed and led Sansa, Shae and Jeyne away from the entrance of the shop, leaving the men behind. 

"Come, child, come.  You've need of pretty things and your pirate carries a pretty purse with him."

Soon enough, the silk was slipping through her fingers as Sansa smoothed it down and stood before a large mirror admiring herself.  It was so fine, fit for any queen, and yet like nothing Queen Cersei would’ve worn.  It was short on her, coming to a stop four or five inches above her ankles.  There were barely any sleeves to it at all.  Her septa would’ve tsked at her for wearing such a thing but her septa was not here. 

“Oh Sansa, it’s so lovely,” Jeyne said as she joined her at the mirror in a lovely cream-colored dress of muslin with green lace trim at the neck and cap sleeves. 

“I do love it…but perhaps I should ask for something like you’re wearing.” 

It wasn’t exactly the same as the white maidenly dresses so common in Westeros among young ladies but it was close enough, far closer than Sansa’s blue silk. 

“Your captain has already asked me to bring you this one,” Kojja Mo said, returning with a dress similar to Jeyne’s, only the lace was blue instead. 

“Oh.  Yes, I suppose I should try that one on and leave this one…”

“He says you’re to have both if you wish, child.  He said that you were all to have any items you might have need of or simply desire; stockings, corsets, shifts...”

"The captain listed all those items, did he?" Shae asked skeptically. 

"A lady has need of many pretty things and I am happy to provide them," Kojja Mo replied with an infectious grin.  "Come, lady...try this one on," she said next, putting a muslin dress of the most becoming coral shade in Shae's arms.   

Sansa looked uncertainly between the shopkeeper and Jeyne.  Kojja Mo was very kind but she might only be saying those things to make more profit.  She already suspected Jon would not say a peep if she did choose both. 

“Well, I…”

“You could take them both, milady,” Shae said as she peaked around her screen.  “The other for every day and that one for…whenever.”

Whenever.  There was a good deal that could be interpreted from that whenever.

She gave the dress another admiring glance and nodded.  “Very well.  Both, it is.” 

"Oh, so good!  And the pretty underthings, too.  All of us ladies have need of such things and don't the gentlemen wish they may get to see them someday!" the shopkeeper said, grinning as she started pulling little bits of silk and satin from a large box. 

The three of them crowded around to see what wonders Kojja Mo would reveal next.  Sansa started to demure but then spied a pretty shift with a blue rose embroidered on it.  Hers was in such poor shape even before her little thief had carried it up a palm last night.  She sincerely hoped Jon would not mind when she asked to try it on.

They left Kojja Mo's laden with packages and neither Jon nor Edd thought asking to stow them at a convenient tavern would serve here on the Drowned Isle. 

"Which there's too many rascals about who'd steal it and sell it back to the shopkeeper and you'd all be looking like scarecrows once more," Edd said as they made their way back to the boat that had rowed them ashore.

"How do you figure we'd be looking like scarecrows if we're already wearing our new dresses?" Shae asked, grinning.  "And are you saying we've looked like scarecrows all this time and you never once told us of it?"

"Well, no..." Edd answered nervously whilst swiping at his brow. 

"I think you're in shoaling waters, Edd," Jon chuckled as the ladies laughed.  

"But what's in all these here packages then if you're wearing your new dresses?"

"My new hat," Sansa cut in for fear of Shae answering and going into extensive detail.

"But you're wearing your new hat, miss," Edd pointed out most unhelpfully.  

So she was.  She'd taken it straight from the box to protect her head from the scorching sun. "Yes but you're carrying the box it came in.  And there's the other dress the captain kindly recommended I chose and some fripperies." 

"Yes, fripperies.  Bits and bobs," Jeyne added with a nod as Edd came to a halt.

"Fripperies?  Bits and bobs?"

"Ladies' underthings, Edd Tollett.  Lace nightgowns, silk stockings, corsets and soft linen shifts.  All the delectable unmentionable items that Kojja Mo kindly recommended we choose as well.  Girls like soft things against their own bits and bobs," Shae said smirking as the seaman's eyes widened.

"Well, I...ain't that...I'm sure your bits and bobs will look, um..." 

"Ahem.  Definitely laid by the lee, Edd.  Shall we continue on?" Jon suggested though Sansa could see the wry smile he tried to hide. 

Jeyne was ready to slip off in search of Pyp no sooner than they’d been helped aboard, longing to see if he said anything about her new dress. Sansa squeezed her friend’s hand and said he was bound to.  “Jon is always saying Pyp has the sharpest eyes aboard.”

“And the most comely,” Jeyne tittered in reply.

Sansa nodded to be polite but could not possibly agree.  Her privateer captain’s stormy grey ocean eyes were much more to her liking than Pyp’s brown ones.

“I take it you and the other ladies found everything you wanted earlier at the shop,” Jon said as he helped her carry the packages below.

“We did.  I’m sorry we wound up choosing so many things and I know it must've been quite costly but…” 

He held up a hand.  He had meant what he’d said last night about no words of obligation and he didn’t want apologies either so she sighed and gave a twirl, feeling so happy and carefree in a pretty new dress.  It had been a while since she'd felt so lighthearted and pretty.  

“I love my new dress.”

“I love you in it,” he murmured, his voice reminiscent of some thick, rich honey on her tongue as his dark eyes traveled from her face to her toes and back.   

I think you’d love me out of it, too.  Was he recalling last night?  She was.  And now, they both were flushing.

He turned abruptly and started stowing their various packages indifferently between the cabin’s stern chaser covered with canvas and a sea chest.

“I’ll put those away if you don’t mind.  There’s three of us and we wouldn’t wish to get our bits and bobs mixed up.”    

“Yes, yes…quite right,” he said, taking a seat at the cabin table to await her so they could return to shore again.  

It was not remotely appropriate but she decided to pull her new pretty white shift with the blue rose embroidered on it out of its package.  She held it up to her body and gave him a smile.  "No monkeys are allowed to snatch this one away," she said, pertly. 

"I'll shoot any who dare touch it."

Would you like to touch it?  Would you like to touch me in it? 

Feeling flustered by her own boldness, she turned away and laid it across the hanging cot.  She would wear it for sleeping tonight. 

Jon was watching her as she continued moving about the cabin but every now and then, she'd catch him stealing discrete glances at the shift.  Was he picturing her putting it on?   

"I love you in it."  

Oh, Mother, Maiden and Crone, how he stirred her!  

There was a knock on the cabin door just then and Sansa placed a cool hand on her warm cheek when Davos walked in after Jon bade him to enter. 

“Messages arrived while you were ashore, cap'n.  Giantsbane had a boy row one over and there's this from Greyjoy and that tavern wench sent one as well." 

Sansa noticed how Jon looked up sharply and hurried over to retrieve his messages.  Who was 'that tavern wench'? 

Davos looked her way next.  “My, aren’t you a vision, miss?  That’s quite a pretty dress and it goes well with your eyes.”

“Thank you, Mr. Seaworth,” she said with a curtsy as Jon was opening his notes.

A dissatisfied grumbling from the cabin’s other occupant cut short any more compliments and thanks. 

“Greyjoy, you arse,” he muttered under his breath.

“Anything the matter, cap’n?” 

“No, nothing…”  He opened the second letter and his eyes darted towards her, some worry crossing his features despite his denial.  “Nothing that can be helped.”  Davos took his leave again and Jon shoved all three into his coat pocket.  “I’m very sorry to say I’ll have to go ashore without you for a spell, Miss Sansa.”

“You don't mean today, do you?"

"Yes, quite shortly actually though there's something I'll need to fetch from my sea chest first."  

"But...we only came here to drop off the packages and we were going right back and..."

"That was before I received those messages."

"So you'll be going without me and the others?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Are we to remain aboard?”

He grimaced and considered the question.  “No.  If you wish to go ashore again, I’ll send Edd and Pyp with you.”

“But you won't be with us," she said softly, her disappointment very keen for there was the heart of it.  She didn’t wish to go exploring nearly so much if he wasn’t joining her. 

“No, lass.  I’ve someone I must meet in half an hour’s time.”

Who? 

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask but she hesitated.  He didn’t owe her explanations, did he?  Her septa had taught her that a wife shouldn't question her husband though she'd seen her mother do so countless times.  Jon was not her husband but he was in command aboard and they were merely his passengers, his very indebted passengers.  What standing did she have with him or any of his men?  And, he’d just spent a small fortune on herself and the others.  Even if he said not to speak of obligation, what right did she have to examine him in his business?

But what manner of business is it?

“You’d said we'd see the lagoon by day next when the hibiscus will be in their glory.”

“Another day perhaps…if we don’t sail before then.”

“Sail?!  We only just arrived!”

Oh, this did not suit at all.  Was she to have paradise for a day and then be sailed back across the Narrow Sea again?  And where was she to go?  She didn't belong in the Riverlands. She belonged at Winterfell but, in order to tell him as much, she'd have to tell him why.  She'd hoped to talk to him ashore about all this today...and some other things perhaps.  

“We’re here for a specific purpose in addition to taking on wood and water.  We may remain longer.  I have not decided yet but I cannot promise you,” he said growing a touch stern as he glanced at his watch.  

“I’ve not asked you for any promises,” she reminded him, feeling stupidly close to tears.  “Will we still dine at the tavern you mentioned tonight?”

“I cannot be sure how long this will take.  I’ll try to make it there but Edd and Pyp know the way.” 

But I only wanted to dine there because you would be with me. 

Perhaps he did desire her but did he truly feel the way she did about him?  At present, she wasn't feeling so certain.  She felt as bereft as Jeyne must’ve earlier without Pyp when they were ashore, too. 

Her disappointment must’ve been showing for he drew closer, his hand hanging between them as if he wished to reach for hers.  She wasn’t sure she wanted him to at the moment. “Sansa, I do not sail a private yacht and my time is not all my own.”

"I didn't think it was."

"I would rather spend the day lolling about on shore with you but..."

"Lolling about on shore?  Yes, I suppose our plans were quite frivolous.  Bits and bobs and fripperies.  Hibiscus by day and tavern meals by night.  Nothing important at all."

"I didn't mean it that way.  You have to understand that I have other acquaintances to see ashore who are expecting me."

"Acquaintances, yes.  What sort?"

"The dodgy sort," he chuckled. She didn't feel like laughing with him.  He sighed, raking his hand through his hair.  "You're disappointed and I understand that."  His understanding chafed a little.  She didn't like being treated like a spoiled child who was being denied a sweet...even if she might feel like acting one at the moment.  "But sometimes duty cannot be ignored."

Intended or not, the patronizing tone did not set well at all.  “I understand duty, Captain Crow.  I understand it better than you might think."  He looked aggrieved at the reminder of the disastrous betrothal she'd attempted to honor.  "You have duties to attend to and can’t waste time shepherding me about.  I don't want to be a burden to you either."  Subconsciously, she touched the wolf pendant at her neck.  

"Sansa, that is not what I..."  

She felt her chin trembling like that hypothetical spoiled child’s might.  Gods.  She hurriedly looked away and noted the raven who was dozing on his perch.  “I have duties, too,” she said, setting out more corn in the dish.

"Corn?" the bird inquired.  "Corn!  Milady!  Corn!" he squawked next, flapping excitedly about.  

"Don't call me my lady," she grumbled to the bird as Jon kept standing there looking miserable.  

“Don’t be cross with me, lass."

"Lass!"

"I feel ill just thinking you might be.  I wanted to show you the lagoon again.  I wanted that very much.”

I feel ill quarreling with you. 

She was being ridiculous and she must stop it.  Out of the corner of her eye, she spied her pretty shift and looked down at her beautiful dress.  Jon had been so giving and generous since she'd first made his acquaintance and she was behaving horribly over a minor disappointment. 

She turned back towards him and gave him a cheerier smile, mostly genuine.  “I'm glad to know that you were keen to go, too.  I’m sorry to be petulant, Jon.”

“You’re not petulant.  You’re disappointed and it’s my fault.”

“It's alright.  Duty calls and I respect that."  Another thought came to her.  "Could I not perhaps go with you?  I could go with you.  I'd be perfectly silent.  I'm quite capable of being quiet..."

"Crow!  Snow!  Fool!"

"Quieter than the raven," she said grinning.  "And if your business runs long, the others could fetch me and we'd..."

He winced and shook his head.  “No, lass.  I'm sorry but The Pearl Chest is no place for a lady.”

“Why?  Is it a pirate ship?” 

"No, it's an, uh...establishment ashore."

"An establishment ashore?"  Enlightenment struck before he could elaborate.  “Jon Snow, is it a house of ill-repute you're going to?  Is that the reason you must abandon our plans?”  He gave her a sheepish nod.  “And you’ve business there that cannot wait?”

“No, I wish it could but…”

“Very well, I’ll go to town again with the others.  Good day to you now,” she gulped, utterly wounded that he’d rather go to a brothel than see the lagoon with her.  She clapped on her new hat and strode towards the door. 

"Aye, cap'n!" the raven cried when she reached it and half of her would've like to turn around and laugh with Jon...if only the other half of her didn't feel like crying.   

Chapter Text

The message from Giantsbane had been brief but troubling:  War galley spied twenty leagues WNW yestermorn. 

Jon wondered who'd written the note for Tormund since he doubted the old pirate had such a neat hand...assuming he could write at all. 

Come meet the council for tea today at the Parrot to parlay.

They'd parlayed a good deal yesterday and the Brethren Council did not take tea (not unless three-fourths of it consisted of liquor anyway) but the intended time of day was plain enough and Jon had no choice but to go. 

Meanwhile, the point was, if one of the queen's war galleys had traveled this far, they could hypothetically be coming here.  Had something slipped to a Southern spy about Benjen's plan?  Or were they seeking something else?  Like a young lady accused of regicide?  Jon wondered again about his Stark cousin and hoped, whoever she was, she was safely back with her mother and brother once more.  

Sansa's disappointment at the thoughts of leaving so soon had him trying to think of any excuse to prolong their stay even as his pirate's instincts were warning him that the port and its narrow entrance could very well become a trap if a fleet of war galleys decided to linger about.  But he most sincerely wanted to take her back to that lagoon.  And it's not as if they're hunting for me.    

He set aside his various concerns to face a different task as he entered The Pearl Chest.  The clock was striking the hour that Theon had named and Jon stated his business to the proprietress.  The woman in flowing silks smiled and welcomed him, saying the Bounty Boudoir's parlor had been reserved for his meeting with the Kraken Prince.  Jon rolled his eyes at Greyjoy's new moniker and never-ending fount of self-importance but smiled at the woman allowing her to lead the way, lest he enter the wrong door and risk interrupting anyone's fun...or getting himself shot. 

However, as they made their way upstairs and down the proper hallway, Jon's expression soured.  The moans (with a ludicrous amount of talk concerning krakens) were building towards their crescendo as they reached the appointed room.

“Greyjoy, you arse,” he muttered to himself. I should’ve known being prompt wouldn’t aid me any…and I could’ve tried to better explain myself to Sansa, dammit.

Her wounded look at their parting aboard the Crow had been like a dagger to the heart and, even though he had a mission to complete here, he longed with all his being to turn around and find her and make things right between them again.

“Arse!” the raven squawked from where he was perched on his shoulder. The bloody bird had chosen to torment Jon with his presence in town yet again. It had also pecked him more than once on the way here.

“Is it him you're calling arse or me?” he inquired of the bird. The raven’s response was another painful peck. “I guess we know whose side you’re on,” Jon grumbled as yet another reference to the magnificent size of 'the kraken' was made in the next room. Poor girl. Hope he tips her extra.

“Are you certain I can’t provide you with some entertainment of your own while you wait, Captain?” the madam asked, her sultry tone feigning interest in his pleasure above her curiosity over the small chest he'd brought along.

“Wench!”

His eyes darted from the closed door back to woman.  Admittedly, the increasingly furious squeaking of bed springs was reminding Jon a little too keenly of the loneliness of his own hammock by night as the object of his affections lay less than six feet away with only a little roughhewn carpentry separating them.

“Um…no, thank you.”

“I’ve a new girl from Lys who’s quite skilled with her tongue, golden hair with eyes like amethyst and…”

“No, thank you, madam,” he said more firmly. “I prefer redheads.” The woman immediately opened her mouth to offer some other girl who would fit the bill no doubt when Jon raised his hand to stop her. “To be honest, I prefer one redhead in particular and have no need of any other women.”

In the face of such cheeseparing monogamy, the madam sighed and stopped wasting her time, leaving him alone with the shrill cries and animalistic grunts and his lonely brooding over Sansa.  A groan of completion soon after left Jon as frustrated as a bull in gate and flustered as a maiden.  Perhaps I should've purchased a white dress for myself.  Thank gods I knew better than to bring Sansa here at least.    

Ten seconds later, the door to the Bounty Boudoir opened and a young woman with dark hair and large breasts padded out wearing no more than a slip of fabric around her waist. Bits and bobs indeed.

Jon immediately made a study of his boots, ignoring her giggles at his expense as she headed off to some other assignment, he supposed.

She was nearly as naked as Sansa had been at the Siren’s Pool last night when he’d stumbled upon her but, despite his present and regrettable state of celibacy, he was not stirred in the least. In truth, Jon had been infinitely more stirred by the sight of Sansa innocently holding up her new shift with the blue rose against her fully clothed body in the cabin earlier than he was by the kraken tamer.  Those are the only bits and bobs I want.  

“Here already, are you?” Theon asked from the doorway in his own state of dishabille. 

“Unfortunately.  Put some clothes on for gods’ sake.” 

“Fool!” the raven squawked from his perch on Jon's shoulder.

Yes, go peck him for a change...in the balls.   

Theon just smirked at them both and strutted into the parlor wearing only linen breeches more like smallclothes which were partially laced at best.  

“Care for a drink?” Theon asked, pouring one for himself. 

“No, thank you.  I’m here on a serious matter, Greyjoy.”

“I figured as much.  You’re always so dully serious.  Why else would you seek me out here?”

“You asked me to meet you here!”

“I meant here on the Drowned Isle but obviously you've got brothels on the brain after so long at sea.”

"I most certainly do not.  I came here after you demanded I meet you...your highness," he huffed, alluding to Theon's new invented title.  "And, I’ve a proposition for you.”

“Sorry, Crow.  I already had my cock sucked earlier and I'm partial to women.”  He leaned back on one of the room’s settees with his tot of rum and a catlike grin.

“Arse!”

Jon bit back any retort of his own, letting the raven speak his mind, and pressed on.  “I’ve been seeking you on Benjen’s behalf for…”

“For the North, I know,” Theon said, rolling his eyes. 

“North!  Stark!”

“Who cares about that here?”  He caught Jon’s furious look and added, “Besides you?”

“Supporting the North could help the Iron Islands.”

“Milady! Stark!”

“Hush,” Jon said to the raven before turning to Theon again.  “The Lannisters will never give you anything.  Your people will be left to carve out their measly existence on their handful of rocks with no aid from the Crown until they’re near starving.”

“You say that as if the North will do us any favors.”

“If you weren’t all so intent on reaving and raping along our shores, perhaps we could come to an accord.”

“A mutually beneficial one?” 

The avarice gleaming in Theon’s eyes was unmistakable.  Greyjoys did love plunder and riches but they could also be swayed by promises of on-going commercial trade and offers of land that wasn't mostly rocks, salt and bird shit.  That’s why Jon had been sent to him.

“Aye, a beneficial one.”  He lifted the small chest off the floor and set it on the table.  Curious, Theon rose from his seat and drew nearer as Jon made a show of unlatching the chest.  “Obviously, we'd be talking about more long-term benefits but I happened upon this a while back and tucked it away for when we might meet again.”

Theon gaped when he looked inside the chest.  “The Golden Kraken?!"  He started to reach for it when Jon snapped the lid shut again.  "The…what are you doing with that?!  My Uncle Aeron said it was lost at sea!” 

“Your Uncle Aeron has too much saltwater between his ears these days though I have pondered tossing it overboard a time or two.  It's such an ugly thing and dreadfully heavy.  But still it is made of gold.”

“That’s a family heirloom, Crow!”

“Is it now?” Jon asked, all feigned innocence. 

“You know it is!  You give that to me this instant or I'll...”

“A man with nothing but his cock at hand is in no position to make demands, Greyjoy.  Didn’t anyone ever teach you that?” Jon asked as he lightly but meaningfully tapped the hilt of his short sword.  "And no matter what your paid company claimed, I don't think you're hiding any krakens in those breeches."  

“Fool!”

Theon shot the raven a look of hatred before asking, “What do you want from me, Crow?”  

“The Iron Fleet.”

“It’s not mine to offer you,” he said mulishly. 

“No, it’s Victarion’s, last I heard…unless the Crow’s Eye has returned to claim it.” 

“Half of it’s still Victarion’s.  The other half is my sister’s.” 

“A formidable pair and I always preferred Asha to your uncles.  But are you caught in the middle of a family feud, Theon?”

“It’s inevitable if you’re a Greyjoy, I fear.  But overall, those two can be made to see sense more than the others.  You’d be best to avoid my Uncle Euron though, Jon.  He’s more than willing for our people to starve if it means riches and power for him and he has no love of your uncle or the North.”

“So, I’ve heard.  Giantsbane said he’s been making deals with the queen.”

“Aye, he has.  She’s promised him a seat on the small council, master of ships, and a lordship if he brings a thousand ships to her fleet and burns a thousand Northern ones."

"That's quite a bit of work to do."

"Euron's nothing if not tenacious.  And rumor has it, Cersei's even promised him a peek at her own private pearl chest if you take my meaning..."

"Gods, I take your meaning but I can't believe the queen would ever let that scum into her bed."

"Maybe not but the word is it's his for the taking if he brings the queen the head of that girl who killed her son.”

“The Stark girl?”

“Aye.  A beauty with red hair, they say."

"Red hair?"

"Name's Sarra.  Or Serena maybe?  Or was it...”

“Stark!  Milady!”

“Anyway, the veracity of these tales are questionable as I avoid him at all costs.” 

“I can’t blame you for that.” 

At that point, Theon took a seat again and they fell into a discussion of Benjen’s plans, Robb Stark’s recent successes in the field and the role the Greyjoys of Pyke could play in that.  Jon hoped he was making headway.  He didn't consider this sort of thing his strong suit but Benjen had said he was better at it than he thought and Davos supported him.  

Growing bored with serious conversation at last though, Theon stretched languidly and waggled his eyebrows wickedly.  "I can't think on serious matters any longer before I have my dinner."

"Am I to buy your supper?  I'm to meet with the Brethren soon," Jon groaned, loathed at the thoughts of missing dinner at Heddle's and seeing Sansa.

"The Brethren?  Why do you want to meet with those wildling heathens?  They drink the blood of their dead."

"They do not."  Theon raised his eyebrows.  "Alright, most of them do not."

"Say, I've got two lovelies set to come visit me up here shortly.  Tell you what, Crow, we could go snacks on them and then you could buy me dinner after." 

“Absolutely not."

"Are you sure you're not really a septon, Jon?"

"No, but I've...there's a young lady aboard my ship at present and I..."  Theon's dark eyes sparkled with interest.  "Never mind."  

"Oh pooh," Theon pouted as two girls came in as undressed as the last one.    

Clearly, Theon would be in no rush to leave this place or agree to offering aid to Jon or the North. 

Resigned to waiting for an answer, Jon rose to leave, not wishing to hear any more of Theon’s boudoir escapades ever again. 

He was halfway to the door when Theon stopped him.  “You’ve forgotten your chest, Crow.”

Jon smiled and looked at the chest and then Theon.  “No, I haven’t.  It’ll make it easier for you to carry aboard Sea Bitch.” 

“But, I didn’t agree.”

“No, but I’m hoping you might.  And as I said, it’s ugly and dreadfully heavy and it’s not my family’s heirloom.”

He tried to hide his grin at first but Theon was obviously pleased.  The girls and their allurements were forgotten as Theon opened the chest, lifted the golden idol and held it to his chest before giving Jon a courtly bow at odds with his current lack of raiment.  “I’ll sail on the morning tide and speak to my sister and uncle for you.”

That was better than he'd hoped, far better.  “Thank you, Theon.  Rendezvous at White Harbor in a moon?”

“Done."  They clasped forearms and Jon made to leave again.  "If you wish to buy my supper, I was thinking…”

Jon held up his hand.  “Let’s not impose on each other’s company anymore today, hmm?  I may have a girl of my own to see.”

“Lass!  Milady!  Stark!” 

Jon frowned at the bird’s nonsense.  Why had it settled on those last two words so often of late?  All the same, he left The Pearl Chest feeling somewhat optimistic about their chances.  Now if only I can speak to the Brethren without it taking all bloody night and get back to Sansa to make amends.  

Back out under the afternoon sun, he caught a flash of red hair in dark blue at a distance and gave chase.  It only turned out to be a passing trollop and the raven, annoyed by Jon breaking into a run, flapped and ruffled its feathers before giving him a hearty peck on the ear, making it bleed.

“Ow!  I’m feeding you to Ghost next time I’m home,” he told the raven as he reached into his pocket for a handkerchief.  He got another peck for that.  "Fine, I won't.  You'd probably make him sick anyway."

But as his fingers brushed the pieces of parchment he'd shoved in his pocket earlier, he remembered he hadn't opened one of them yet.  He'd ignored Ros' message until now, fearing it was merely another invitation to ‘sleep ashore.’

It wasn’t.  

The sun was setting as Jon made his way along the main street towards Heddle’s Tavern a few hours later.  

Unfortunately, he was not alone.  Seven members of the council had invited themselves along after he’d let slip his destination and that he had plans to meet another party there.  Under the circumstances, he could hardly tell them no…not that any of them would’ve listened if he had. 

They were a rag-tag band with Tormund the most respectable looking of the bunch which wasn’t saying much.  At least Harma and her brother weren’t wearing their horrid-looking dog skin pelts with the tropical heat. 

"Corn!"  

Oh yes.  The raven was still sticking stubbornly by his side as well.  Lucky me.  

He spied the white stone edifice with its little turrets and chimney poking up from the thatched roof and sighed with relief knowing he would soon lay eyes on Sansa again.  Of course, he’d also managed to upset her earlier and he needed to make amends for that.  If you can manage to and if she’ll give you the chance.  His heart might not know full ease again this night.  It seemed like a sennight since he’d watched Sansa’s eyes sparkle with fascination and pleasure as they’d made their way along the town’s streets this morning. 

Jon entered the tavern’s long, low common room with its row of kegs lining one wall.  A one-legged fiddler was playing a melancholy tune in the corner and a young seaman, more grass than hay, was wiping his eyes and asking if he'd play, 'My Girl Who's Done with Waiting,' for him. 

At the other end of the room lay the bulk of the tables and the large fireplace where a variety of spitted meats were being roasted.  Immediately, his belly was crying out for his supper and for something to soak up his pint of rot-gut rum with a nip of tea in it for niceties as Tormund had said. Jon had swallowed it down quickly for manner's sake but refused any more. 

“A bottle!  A bottle an’ the biggest pig ye’ve got over 'ere!” Tormund roared to the tavern at large as the group descended upon a table where two pirates from Yi Ti were quietly enjoying their meal.  “Shove over, mates, and we’ll split our pig with ye!” 

The pair made gestures of incomprehension as Masha Heddle herself came over chewing her sour leaf and carrying four bottles instead of one.  She knew Tormund too well.  "They don't speak the Common Tongue but their silver's welcome here so be polite, Tormund," Masha warned him.  

"When am I not polite?!" Tormund asked Masha who only laughed and returned to her business.  Deciding that speaking louder would suddenly make a foreign language more comprehensible to the gents from Yi Ti, Tormund tried again.  "We'll have our roasted pork together, won't we, mates?" he bellowed.  The pair smiled politely but looked no more sure of his words.  “Ye know…piggies."  Nothing.  "Hogs?  Swine?  Bacon and trotters and roasted pork that melts in a man’s mouth?”  Tormund then proceeded to oink at them. 

This might come to blood, Jon thought uneasily judging by the looks of offense the big man received so he made his excuses to part company as soon as he laid eyes on Edd.

“Where’s Sansa?” he asked abruptly when they were face to face.

“What’d you bring those ugly buggers with you for?” Edd asked shrewishly as he peered over Jon's shoulder.  

“They’re our new allies.”

“Gods, help us.” 

“Indeed. Where’s Sansa?”

"Lass! Corn!"  

Edd pierced him with a churlish look just as the blasted bird gave him another peck.  “Over there with Pyp an' t'other ladies enjoyin' a drink with the shopkeeper.”

“Kojja Mo?”

“The same.”  Jon made to leave when Edd grasped him by the coat sleeve.  He scowled but Edd was not deterred.  “How was Ros?”  His tone made his assumptions clear.  

“Well enough.  I only saw her for a few minutes after I saw Greyjoy and before I met the council.  She’d been hearing things at the Parrot she thought I’d want to know.”

“What kinds of things?”

Jon lowered his voice.  “Chett’s groaning to anyone who’ll listen about the ladies costing him his place.  He’s spreading word of how Sansa was married to some wealthy merchant but ran away."  He left out the part where Ros said Chett had suggested that Sansa had made a cuckold of her so-called husband with Jon as well.  "He's suggesting there might be a reward offered by the fellow to have her back in the hopes of someone with a ship taking him on." 

Edd's lip curled up just as Jon's had when Ros had shared that.  If Chett made the wrong sort interested in Sansa, she could be in danger whether any of Chett's theories were true or not. 

"He’s also mentioned our trip to Kings Landing to fetch them to all sorts of dodgy folks."  Plenty of people knew Dareon and Jon didn't want questions asked if her brute of a betrothed really was seeking her.  "I don't like it." 

"Me neither."

"He’s been making noises about Shae, too.”

“If he dares come near her or any of 'em, I’ll have his guts for garters.” 

Jon blinked at the savage ferocity underlying Edd’s quiet declaration though he wholeheartedly agreed.  They shared a nod of agreement and Edd’s expression morphed from fury to sheepishness the next second. 

“Which Miss has been right low all afternoon an’ mentioned as how you was headin' off to a brothel to see some tavern wench to the other girls which I couldn’t help overhearin' as we was headed to look at them flowers by daylight she was so keen to see.”

“The hibiscus?”  Edd shrugged.  “And you and Pyp took her to the lagoon again?” Jon asked, feeling such an ache in his chest over missing that.

“Aye.  She didn’t seem so pleased to see ‘em once we made the walk and sat alone by the lagoon for a time, not even wishin' to soak her feet at the edge like the rest of us.”

“Gods…”  She'd been so excited this morning but her anticipated trip back to the lagoon had been devoid of its magic.  And it's your fault.  He was heartbroken without question at the thought.  

Edd sniffed and released his sleeve.  “Anyhow, this is the first time I’ve seen her a’smilin' since we left the ship the second time so if you’ve come to make her sad again…”

“It’s not as if I had a choice earlier.  Greyjoy and the brethren are why we sailed here.  But don’t you think I wanted to be with her today instead?  Haven’t you figured me out somewhat in all these years, Edd Tollett?  I didn’t want to leave her.  I wouldn’t hurt her for the world.  I want nothing more than for her to be happy.  I know I'm nowhere near good enough for a lady of her station but I…” 

He stopped short at that point.  He would not declare his love of Sansa to Edd without having said it to her first. 

A smile made a most welcome appearance on Edd’s naturally dour face.  “Which I was thinkin' as how that were the case but needed to be sure an’ all.  And considerin' as how she was takin' on at the thoughts of you steppin' out, I wouldn't say she's indifferent to yourself.  Maybe you should ask what stations she takes issue with and which she don't, eh?”

"Aye, you may be right.  Thank you, Edd."  

The two men shook hands as the fiddler began to play the young sailor's requested tune.  Jon hoped he wasn't about to join the boy weeping in the corner.

Leaving Edd’s side, he approached the table where Pyp and the four ladies were all laughing together as the Summer Islander poured a round of drinks into little cups made out of shell.  Sansa’s back was to him but there was no mistaking the particular shade of her auburn hair, the creamy softness of her bare upper arms or the dark blue silk of her lovely gown.  He was overcome with the insane desire to wrap his arms around her from behind, pick her up and carry her away from the others so he might explain himself...and reveal his heart.

"Snow!  Crow!"   

“Oh, Captain Crow!” Miss Jeyne yelped, spying him first.  She’d had her hand resting on Pyp’s forearm for some reason but swiftly pulled it away whilst shooting her sister a look.

“Lass!” the raven cawed as Pyp sprang to his feet.

“We were just waiting on our meal, cap’n, when this lady came to join us, weren't we?” he nervously asked the table.  

Jeyne nodded along quickly but Shae was skewering him with a look even worse than Edd’s had been initially and he feared another peck soon…from her hidden dagger perhaps. 

Kojja Mo was smiling at him warmly though and pulled out another little shell to fill.  “Here’s your pretty pirate come to join us after all, lady.  But oh, what’s this?  Troubled waters for my ocean eyes.  The calm blue can be as treacherous as the stormy grey, they say.”  The woman laughed as she stood, passing Jon the shell.  “Not much, not much.  A little for you both to loosen tongues and lighten hearts.”

Sansa accepted her own shell and then turned to face him in her seat.  She was flushed and the traces of evident emotion from earlier were still there.  “Good evening, captain,” she said with cool courtesy that burned like ice.    

“Good evening to you, Miss Sansa...ladies,” he replied formally, unaccustomed to this variety of quarreling.  Were they even quarreling?  He felt very lost at the moment but he gave her a bow before asking Kojja Mo what drink she was offering. 

“Lambanog or you might say coconut wine, captain.  I bought it off a pirate who’d been to the Jade Sea for the silks you bought today and thought to share it with my new friends.”

“Corn!” the raven cried.

“No, not corn, coconut, oh wise yet foolish one, but here is something for you," Kojja Mo told the raven as she pulled a little bit of dried rice from her satchel and set it on the table beside her.  The raven immediately flapped down from Jon's shoulder to attack it.  "No more pecking will you do for now.  The pretty pirate's ear still bleeds."  Jon swiped at his ear to see she was correct.  "Will you drink with us, stormy ocean eyes?”   

“May I drink with you?”

Jon had asked the table but he was truly asking Sansa.  Everyone at the table seemed to think the same for they all looked to her.

Her posture was perfectly stiff and her voice crisp but she answered, “You may,” all the same.  

Gingerly, he drew up an extra chair and placed it beside Sansa before they slowly sipped their lampanog, a very heady brew, silently and covertly studying one another.  Edd rejoined the table and the others carried on their earlier conversation without them. 

But in time, Kojja Mo’s drink did indeed loosen their tongues and lighten their hearts.

"This is strong," Sansa confessed quietly.  "I've rarely had more than a cup of wine with meals.  When I was a girl, my septa would say ardent spirts were only to be taken medicinally."

"It is very strong.  A little goes a long way, I'd say."  He turned his shell over and Kojja Mo understood his intent.  Sansa did the same.  "There's water flavored with lemon juice if you wish and Masha makes very good honeycakes."

"Yes, I should like that and one of the honeycakes after perhaps," she said a touch wistfully, reminding him of the girl who'd wept tears of joy at the sight of the rising sun this morning.  

Jon hailed a passing serving girl and the water was brought and the honeycake was promised. 

When the meal arrived, Jon’s belly wasn’t to be denied any longer.  It grumbled loudly as they set to, so loudly Sansa heard it and giggled before she could help herself. 

“My apologies, miss.”

“No need.”  Her smile quickly vanished.  “Were you too busy to eat earlier?” she asked, wincing as she did so.

“Wench!”

It was not the ideal opening but he needed to clear this misunderstanding up at once.  He lowered his voice for her alone to hear him.  “Sansa, I didn’t go to a brothel for my pleasure if that’s what you've been thinking.”  She looked up from her plate, her eyes guarded but hopeful.  “I had to meet Greyjoy, the acquaintance I mentioned, there. That’s where he’s been since he let go his anchor and where he wished to remain.”

“Oh.  Oh!”  She covered her face.  “Davos mentioned a tavern wench sending a note and then you said you were going to a…”

“Well, that was a different matter. She works in a tavern like this one...though a less desirable one.  She sent me a note to give me a warning about something which I'll tell you of shortly but there was no assignation or tryst planned.  I had to see Greyjoy and then the brethren council on behalf of my uncle was the reason I could not join you for the rest of the day.”

They continued eating though he could tell they were not fully in harmony just yet.  The pork felt heavy on his belly and Sansa picked at hers.  The raven was more than happy to help, snagging bits and pieces as he hopped around on the table.  

When the honeycake arrived, Sansa sighed as if she would find no pleasure in eating it which seemed a great shame to Jon.  What was troubling her?  She soon told him.  “Before we left the ship, someone aboard mentioned that there was a woman, a tavern wench here, that you had…”  She flushed and her eyes returned to her plate. 

Gods.  A ship was no place for secrets and some fool was always mentioning something. 

Benjen had once told him as a boy that the truth would serve him well.  “Except when it comes to women, lad,” another sailor had added with a laugh, overhearing Benjen’s words.  His uncle had looked grimly at the man and Young Jon had known whose opinion he trusted more.  Let's hope your advice serves me well here, Uncle.   

“Aye, she is the same woman but, I swear to you, there was nothing like that intended today or at all this voyage."

"I feel such a fool," she said next, looking close to tears.  "I behaved like a child over your duties taking you away and then assumed the worst and..."

"No, no.  You were upset and had looked forward to our plans.  I understood and felt the same and I failed to make myself clear regarding where I was going and why it was important.  And as for Ros, it’s been nearly two years since I was last here and much has changed since then…much has changed for me, that is.”

He hoped she understood what he meant whilst daring to lightly caress the top of her hand. 

“Has it, Jon?” she asked, raising those beautiful blue eyes back to meet his stormy ones. 

I drown in those eyes every time I look at you, I think.  “Aye, lass.  Very much.”

“Lass!” 

She smiled at the raven’s mimicking and Jon knew sweet relief…for a moment.

But when Sansa bit into her honeycake, she moaned ("Ohhh!") and the sound shot straight to his cock. 

"You like it?" he gulped.

"Gods, yes," she declared closing her eyes as her sweet pink lips puckered into the most kissable pout when she popped another morsel in her mouth. 

Oh gods. 

Jon was so fixated on watching Sansa with her honeycake (and busy wondering how to discretely adjust his suddenly tight breeches under the table), he didn't notice they were soon to have an addition to their party.  

“Well, well, Crow.  Who’s this radiant being?  Did you winkle one of the legendary siren's from her pool and convince her to eat supper at Heddle's with you?  And I see you're seated with not one but four lovely ladies..."  Miss Jeyne tittered at the compliment though neither Shae nor Kojja Mo were moved and even Sansa's younger sister gasped when he added, "and a couple of ugly dogs to balance things out," as his laughing eyes flickered to Pyp and Edd before resting back on Sansa once more with undisguised interest. 

Edd and Pyp huffed in unison as Jon's jaw grew clenched.   

Of course, Theon would make an appearance now.

At least, he’s dressed this time. 

That was putting it mildly.  His boots were coal black and polished to a shine.  He had a ring on every finger and a pearl the size of a strawberry hanging from one ear.  His moustache appeared waxed it was so perfectly fashioned into spiraling curls down beside his mouth.  He wore a belt with a gaudy great buckle fashioned like a kraken on it.  His waistcoat had more colors than Jon could readily name and his hat…gods, that hat.  Feathers, feathers galore on the largest hat Jon had ever seen.  It might work on a man the size of Tormund.  On Greyjoy it just made him look...

“Arse!”

“Quite right,” Jon murmured to his bird.  “Ladies, allow me to introduce Theon Greyjoy.”

“Captain Theon Greyjoy,” he corrected, removing his hat with a flourish and causing the feathers to sweep across Jon’s face.  He immediately felt a sneeze building.  “Captain of the Sea Bitch, fearless commander of the Iron Fleet...and known as the Kraken Prince is some parts,” he added with a wink at Shae. 

Shae's answering smirk did not reflect amusement.  Edd was stony faced.

"Are you more man or peacock?" Kojja Mo asked, wryly. "A bit of both, I see."  

Theon was not remotely insulted.  "If I'm half anything, it's kraken, madam."

"Oh ho.  How could I have confused the two?  And yet, even sea monsters wrestle with their doubts at times, don't they?"

Theon's assured smile faltered as the raven cried out, "Fool!"   

“What brings you here, Greyjoy?” Jon asked before Kojja Mo could speak any more uncomfortable truths.  

“A man must eat and you offered to buy my supper.”

“I..."  Well, he had mentioned supper during their conversation and he didn't wish to vex the man who might help bring the North the Iron Fleet against the Crown.  "Very well."  Jon flagged down the serving girl once more and invited Theon to place his order as he was grabbing another spare chair to shove his way between Jon and Sansa.

Oh no.  That won't do at all.  

Just then, the fiddler in the corner started playing a merrier tune and inspiration struck.

"Would you care to dance with me, lass?" Jon asked, rising to his feet and offering his hand.

She looked simultaneously pleased and unsure.  "Is that permitted here, captain?"  Her propriety was endearing.  

"At Heddle's?  Why not?  There's a spare bit of room by the barrels there and we learn to dance a jig in tighter quarters at sea.  Shall we test it out here, Miss Sansa?"  

Her delighted smile rivaled the sun when she took his hand and agreed. 

"Sansa, is it?" Theon asked, catching her name.  "A pretty name for a beautiful woman, the jewel of the isle." 

"Milady!  Stark!" 

"Thank you, Captain Greyjoy," Sansa murmured with a worried look at the raven. 

"That's a pretty bauble you wear, too.  A wolf, is it?"

"Yes," Sansa said, her hand rising to touch his mother's pendant.  "Jon gave it to me."

"Oh, Jon did, did he?  You've been hiding all your charming nature from me, I fear, Crow," Theon chuckled.     

"She's not your type, Theon," Jon huffed angrily in Theon's ear as Sansa was smoothing down her skirts.

"They're all my type, Crow," the rogue answered with a wink.  

"Stark!  Milady!"

At the raven's cry, something crossed Theon's features for a moment causing a ripple of disquiet for Jon.  But the moment seemed to pass and Theon simply said, "Perhaps you'll dance with me next, my lady?"

Jon wanted to bark that she most certainly would not but he was not a heathen and the choice was hers.

"I am simply Miss Poole, Captain Greyjoy, and I thank you but I believe Jon and I have plans to see the Siren's Pool again and it's dark out already."

"We do?  I mean, we do!  Of course, we do and it is full-on dark but the moonlight will light our way."

"Yes, the moonlight," she said, soft as a kiss as they shared a smile.  

Appearing unconcerned, Theon turned his charms to the other ladies.  He'd soon have Pyp and Edd worked into a fit but Jon didn't care at the moment.  He was too busy leading his lady out to dance.

It was lamentable that the merry jig was not the sort that would involve the partners touching beyond their hands here and there but every brush of their hands had Jon feeling as intoxicated as Kojja Mo's coconut wine.  He was pleased that he remembered the quick hops and skips of this particular dance and didn't make too much a fool of himself.  He was amazed at what a fast learner Sansa was since he doubted wealthy merchant's daughters spent much time in taverns learning jigs and reels.  

Pyp and Miss Jeyne soon joined them so they weren't the only pair dancing, his friend was ridiculously besotted looking as he stared at his partner.  Not that I'm any different.  Before long, other pairs were doing the same until their confined space became a bit of a crush.  

When Sansa said her own head was spinning some between the earlier drinks and dancing, they went to resume their seats but Sansa grasped his hand when she spied Edd and Shae alone at their table, their heads close together as they spoke.  Where had Theon shuffled off to already?   

"May I meet your other friends?  The ones that you said came here as well?"

"If you wish," Jon said, not sure why she was reluctant to rejoin Edd and Shae. 

Nevertheless, he led her to the larger table whilst Pyp was still busy spinning Miss Jeyne about.  The girl's constant giggling had been grating on Jon's nerves a bit to be honest though he was glad she found Pyp amusing. 

"Ah, there you are, Jon!" Tormund cried, beckoning him over with one arm. The other was wrapped around the shoulders of his new friend from Yi Ti who appeared quite chummy with the big man now.  Perhaps fascinated was a better word.  Tormund might seem an oddity to many.  He was also a Northman though and had agreed to be an ally to their cause.  

"What cheer, mates?" Jon asked, eyeing the half a dozen empty bottles on the table and the bleary eyes staring back at him with bemused grins for the most part.

"The North!  That's the cheer!" Tormund cried.  "We was just talkin' to that lice-ridden, fleabag Yoren."  He pointed to indicate the man nearer the fireplace who Jon knew perfectly well since he was a friend of Benjen's.  "An' he told us of Stark's latest battle!"

"The Stark!" one of the brethren shouted, raising a mug.  

Others did the same and cheered, "The Stark!  To the North!" 

A few of his men from the Crow had come to Heddle's and joined the group with the subsequent cheers swelling in volume. 

"To the Stark!  The Young Wolf!"

"What say you to that, White Wolf?" one of his older shipmates teased.

Jon shook his head and demurred, letting them carry on about his cousin's victories.  

"He is!  He rides an enormous wolf into battle, I heard!"

"Nay!  It's cause he keeps a pack of wolves on hand to eat his dead!" another sailor swore. 

The tales would grow more fantastical with every glass they drank, Jon was sure.  

"Had his father's sword and nicked off the head of that fucking Joffrey's uncle in revenge!"

Jon felt Sansa shift beside him and glanced at her.  She looked stricken.  "He wouldn't have had that sword," he thought she murmured.  Too many tales of bloodlust wouldn't please his lady, he decided.

"Would you wish to see the lagoon now, Sansa?" he whispered in her ear.

She shook her head, her attention already back on what the others said.  

"Would've been better if he'd nicked off the grandfather's head.  He's the one to worry over," some croaker said.   

Jon was passed a mug of ale for himself for the inevitable next toast as Sansa listened raptly to their words. 

"Was there another Northern victory since Oxcross?" she asked Tormund. There was a hitch in her breath that spoke of intense excitement which seemed odd for a girl from the Riverlands.     

"Aye, there was, girl!  That Stark pup's army thrashed the Lions again about a moon ago and those northern lords said they'd bow to none but him and declared him their king then and there!"

"Aye, the King in the North!" the others shouted merrily.  

"I suppose that makes him our king now, eh?" Tormund asked Jon with a grin.  

He didn't answer for Sansa was gasping and clutching his arm so tightly.  "Robb?!  They've named him King in the North?!" 

"Aye, little miss!  Here's to King Robb, the Young Wolf, and the North!" Tormund roared, raising his own tankard for another cheer. 

"To the North!" the entire party roared in reply with the pirates from Yi Ti smiling and parroting the words to join in.   

"Stark!  King!  Milady!" the raven squawked, appearing suddenly upon the table as if it was some conjuror's work.

"To the North!" Sansa cried out with delight along with the rest. 

"May the Young Wolf feast on many a Lion!" Harma cackled loudly.

"Yes!  My brother Robb will thrash them all!"   

If he hadn't already been staring at her, Jon might've thought he'd imagined it.  No one else appeared to have heard her as the shouts and cheers continued.  But, Jon's guts had began to churn, threatening to bring his supper back up. 

"Sansa," he said quietly.

He watched the way the momentary fervor drained from her face in a heartbeat and the way her eyes widened when they met his.  And in those blue eyes, he saw...fear.  

"Sansa," he said again, brushing back a stray tendril of her beautiful red hair. 

"I...Jon, I'm..."  She trembled, her eyes dropping to the floor. 

Like a clockwork, a thousand tiny little pieces started clicking into place.  The betrothal, the beast who'd had other men beat her, the death of her father coinciding with their time apart.  It was like a hive of bees stirring in his head as one realization after another hit him.  You thought her too high above you when you believed her a merchant's daughter.  She's a lord's daughter, a lady to the manor born.  Her brother's been named a king...and you're her bastard cousin. 

His head and heart were both reeling, trying to make sense of it.   

"Get her out of here," a harsh voice hissed in his ear.  He turned to find Greyjoy by his side, staring at Sansa.  "I don't think this lot noticed her slip but, if anyone else heard her...get her out of here, Crow.  Leave while you still can."

Half-dazed, he nodded at Theon.  Those bees were still stirring but now they stirred his own fear.  His pulse started picking up speed like a galloping horse and he felt panicked. 

Without another word to anyone, Jon grasped Sansa firmly by the arm and escorted her out of the tavern as far-off thunder rumbled like canon fire in the sticky heat of the tropical night. 

Chapter Text

Kojja Mo had said the lampanog would lighten hearts but it was Jon’s words and deeds which had ultimately lightened Sansa's after a truly miserable afternoon.

Their minor tiff over spoiled plans and duty’s call would’ve passed as water under the bridge easily enough. It was the idea of him going to a brothel to see some tavern wench, however, which had festered into a painful boil, especially once Three-Fingered Hobb, the ship’s cook, had mentioned the redheaded tavern wench named Ros within earshot of Sansa and made a jape about how the captain might be off bowsing up his jib ashore. She had no idea how one bowsed up a jib in actuality but the implication had not alluded her.

And oh, how her treacherous imagination had delighted in tormenting her throughout the afternoon! Images of him blissfully wrapped up in the arms of another woman, wanton thoughts of being that lucky woman and enjoying his carnal attenions had assailed her while her jealous, pining heart had hated, hated, hated every single pretty flower it saw and every tinkling, song-like splash of the waterfall at the Siren’s Pool. No magical lagoon could cure what ailed her.  What difference did it make if there was magic in the world if he did not feel the same way about her as she did about him?

Such had been her fretful thoughts when she’d entered the tavern with her companions as the sun was sinking.

When Jon had arrived a short time later and asked to join them, she’d done her utmost to remember her old refrain about courtesy being a lady’s armor, determined that he would never guess the depth of her feelings for him. If he did not know he was capable of wounding her, that would make it better, wouldn’t it?

That theory had not held up so well though and her lady’s armor had been no match for Jon’s honest words and soft smiles. In the end, she was glad of it. She’d felt like she was floating in the pure, clean waters of the lagoon again when he’d led her through the steps of their dances.

However, while it may not have lightened her heart, the coconut wine had worked all too well for loosening her tongue.

“To the North! My brother Robb will thrash them all!”

What a little fool she’d been shouting those words in a tavern filled with strangers as if she had not a care in the world.

I couldn’t help it. It’s been so long.

So many moons at her grandfather’s house, immersed in the ways of the Southern nobles and gentry, convincing herself that she belonged amongst them.

So many dark days of lying through her teeth to Joffrey, the queen and their courtiers, condemning her people and even her own family’s actions, at first to save her father’s life and then to try and avoid his fate herself.

How could she help getting swept away by their cheers and enthusiasm over her dear brother’s successes when at last she was feeling safe and free again? How could she check her joy when her heart was coming to know true romantic love and the man she loved stood beside her and fought for the same cause as Robb?

The words were barely passed her lips when Jon had spoken her name and she’d realized she’d made an unspeakable error. Like a small animal watching the predator’s approach in horror but too paralyzed to move, she’d stood there unable to speak or move or do anything.

Thank gods, Jon had not been.

Even as they’d been walking several minutes, she felt herself in something like a fog still, that is if a fog could be likened to a shroud of terror.

Thunder rumbled again in the distance.  "It's going to rain."  

Jon glanced at the sky and held up a finger.  The seamen were like oracles when it came to the weather, she thought.  "Not here, not yet."  

“What have I done?” she murmured to herself.

“Where will we go is the better question,” Jon answered gruffly. He was still holding onto her arm quite firmly.  They were heading towards the pier when he abruptly turned them. “No, not the ship. Not yet. We need to talk first.”

“Yes, talk. I want us to talk, please.”

He led them out of the seaport’s town and along the moonlit shore towards their lagoon. The hardpacked sand crunched beneath their boots whilst the sea sparkled with silvery light and the gentle lapping waves kissed the sand a few feet away. It was so picturesque, terribly romantic and she wished they could stand here and enjoy it.

If I hadn’t spoken rashly in the tavern, we might have.

Was it just last night they’d made this trek together in reverse after she’d been caught naked by the lagoon and Jon had fought his battle with the devilish little monkey for her shift? The memories made her smile. She’d been exposed last night in one sense and had exposed herself again in another tonight. Something about that eased some of her fear and confusion.

However, it wasn’t to last.

Sansa wasn’t certain exactly when she realized that Jon was more troubled by her lies and tonight’s sad blunder than she’d initially realized but somewhere along their path, his silence had altered and her intuition felt something like a withdrawal building.

As they reached the lagoon, he let go of her arm and his face had turned cold like a northern winter.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to lie to you.” His eyes cut towards her like a switch. “I never meant to keep lying to you.”

“And what lies have you told me exactly? I’d like to make sure I have them all straight, miss.”

The angry tone troubled her but she couldn’t entirely blame him. “Most notably, my name.  It isn't Sansa Poole. It’s Sansa Stark.”

“Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell? Daughter of Lord Eddard Stark?”

“Yes.” He pursed his lips, waiting for her to continue. “I had been at my grandfather’s house in Riverrun for longer than expected as I said and my destination was Kings Landing but my betrothal wasn’t to a wealthy merchant. It was to King Joffrey. It was arranged by my father and his when I was eleven as I told you…so I didn’t lie about everything at least,” she finished sheepishly.  

In the moonlight, his grey eyes looked hard as flint. “Who are Jeyne and Shae?”

“Shae is just what I said, a camp washerwoman without a place who agreed to act as our servant. She is my friend as well though. Jeyne is Jeyne Poole, my oldest, dearest friend. She grew up in my father’s castle. Her father was our steward. She was sent along to be my companion at court and perhaps make a suitable match there.”

“A suitable match. A knight’s wife perhaps. No sailors or former pirates that’s for certain,” Jon grumbled to himself.  “Why didn’t you tell me from the start? When we captured your galley? Why the ruse? I told you plain enough I sailed for the North. I would’ve sent you home!” His voice had risen in volume along with his vexation. He mastered that with his next statement but it didn't conceal his hurt.  “I thought you trusted me.”

“I did! I do! But at first, I wasn't sure what a Northern privateer might do to a young lady betrothed to his enemy.  I learnt differently as we became acquainted but still I couldn't have you sending me home because I had to go to him...or I believed I did.  At the time, going to Joffrey was what I wanted...mostly." 

She twisted her hands together with nerves.  In truth, by the time they'd passed a week in each other's company, part of her had already wished to remain with Jon.  But I thought that could never be.  

"It was what I was supposed to do.  It was what was expected of me, don't you see?  My mother's house words are Family, Duty, Honor and they've been taught to me all my life same as my father's house.  For eight years, I’d been preparing to do my duty." 

He muttered something under his breath about house words and lineage but she pressed on.  

"After we learned of Sea Wolf’s misfortunes and after I…comforted you…” His eyes flitted away, no doubt recalling that moment when she'd gladly held him as his tears had wetted the bodice of her dress.  “I told myself I’d do everything in my power to convince Joffrey to end the war so there would be no more losses like your friend Grenn or Mr. Seaworth’s son.”

“And you believed your pretty face and sweet words were capable of that with the likes of him, did you?  After her took your father prisoner under a flag of truce?” he asked, mockingly.

It felt like a slap coming from Jon. “I didn’t know of my father's arrest, let alone the circumstances surrounding it then!  I didn't even know he'd traveled to Kings Landing to settle a peace and...bring me home,” she finished in a small voice as her eyes clouded up. 

The wounds felt ripped open all over again.  Jon couldn't quite meet her eye though he was still clearly angry over her deceit.  "Fine.  We knew one another a week and I gave you a lift to Dragonstone and you kept your secret.  But why have you continued to lie to me since then?!  I risked my men and my ship to come there and fetch you!"  His voice dropped lower.  "It was foolhardy and reckless of me but I had no idea how foolhardy and reckless.  You kept those things from me...even after we were well away."

“I'm sorry." Gods, it sounded so feeble to her ears and could only imagine how it sounded to him.  "I...the reward. Shae said if anyone caught wind of who I was, they’d kill you and sail me straight back to Cersei.”

He sighed. Whether it was more in acceptance or agreement, she wasn’t sure.

“I had planned to tell you earlier today. I’d hoped to tell you this afternoon and then…well, I’d thought I might tonight at the lagoon when I suggested we had plans to come here to Captain Greyjoy.”

"That's very convenient, my lady," he said with no small hint of skepticism.

He doubted her trust in him and she had lost all of his. 

"Please, Jon...I can't blame you if you don't believe me but I've wanted to tell you, its been yet another heavy weight pressing on my heart lying to you this way.  I know I’m the one who’s been lying all this time but I am telling the truth now.”

"There's more to it than that.  If you'd been honest from the start, I wouldn't have...but you don't even know the bloody truth.  You know nothing, my lady."

What did that mean?  She told herself his hurt feelings were justified but didn't her feelings matter at all?  

“I…you said not to resent my younger self for her hopes and lack of experience.  You said not to blame myself or call myself stupid for not knowing what Joffrey was before I met him! Have you changed your mind now? Are you going to call me stupid like he did?! Like everyone at court treated me?!"

"That's not what I..."

"I got down on my knees and begged him for my father’s life in front of them all, Jon! He promised me he'd grant him mercy! He said my pretty words had moved him and then he threw them in my face and made me watch it!  He made me watch as they cut off my father's head!" 

Jon's eyes widened and his mouth fell open but he couldn't seem to find his tongue.  It didn't matter.  Hers worked just fine. 

A small rational voice inside was whispering that she was growing hysterical and must calm down.  But she couldn't.  She started gulping for air as the horror of it all threatened to drown her again.  Jon took a step towards her, his hand reaching and she stepped away.  She couldn't let him touch her until it all came pouring out, an infection to be lanced and cleansed.

"His mother said we'd still marry and he made me go stare at my father's head!  He'd had all my father's men killed too including Jeyne's father!  I had to tell her!  I had to tell my dearest friend that her father had been killed because no one else even cared enough to inform a steward's girl!  I expected to die there!  I wanted to die!"  A ragged sob, mercilessly smothered.  "He had his guards beat me!  If my pretty words displeased him, he had them strike me!  But not my face...he said he liked me pretty. When Robb won a battle, I paid the price!  He said for them to tear my gown and whip me in front of..."

"Lass..."  Jon's handsome face was crumpled with anguish but if she'd survived all of it, he could survive hearing about it.  

"And then, they decided they didn't need him to marry me.  He cast me aside for his uncle the Imp to marry but, the night before the wedding was to occur, Joffrey came to my chambers and said he'd still have my maiden's gift and that he'd father bastards on me and...he was going to rape me.  The knife was there and I…”

Wildly, she made a slashing motion with her hand before it was too much.  She'd said it, there was no more to say about it.  Her whole body shuddered at the memory of the blood and his gurgling shout.  

Jon’s arms were around her the next instant, folding her up close with his warmth.  The earlier fire in his eyes had been extinguished as his lips tenderly brushed her forehead. He murmured quiet comforts as she buried her face in the crook of his neck and wept.

“Shh, lass. I’m very, very sorry for everything you suffered.  And I meant what I said about not blaming your younger self.  I cannot even imagine how...you're so brave."

"I'm not.  I was helpless.  I cried and cried so many tears."

"Courage isn't about going through life dry-eyed, my sweet girl.  Bravery isn't always displayed in actions.  Sometimes, it's waiting and carrying on when things seem their most hopeless." 

He said no more but held her so tightly, making her feel so safe in his arms.  The stress of lying, the constant fear of being found out started to seep away with the knowledge that at least he knew now.  And that was not all.  She had finally shared the bitter, horrid truths that he'd not known.  It made that heavy stone of grief feel a little lighter and the joy he'd been bringing back into her world shine through once more. 

Her sobs had ceased and he gently tipped her chin up, a sweet but anxious look of concern painting his features in the moonlight now.  Those dark grey eyes were soft as fog again.  They were nearly nose to nose.  He wetted his lips and something other than grief stirred deep inside her.

"Can you forgive me, Jon?" she whimpered, her heart in her mouth at the thought that he might say no.

"There's nothing to forgive.  And I'm not angry over what you hid from me now.  It's only tha-"

His words were cut off when she ardently pressed her lips to his.

For half a heartbeat, she feared he might recoil.  It was so very forward of her, not at all what ladies did. 

But that fleeting moment passed and, as if some restraint had snapped, he made a nearly feral sound like a growl before he was hungrily kissing her back. 

She felt like a bowstring drawn taunt and like a chocolate left too long in the sun at the same time.  She arched against him, wanting nearer, whilst her arms coiled around his neck, clinging to him as if she might collapse without his strength to hold her.

His arms looped around her waist, the silk of her gown crushed into fistfuls.  His scent was heady, the smell of saltwater and leather. He knew how to give a kiss and she let him guide her.  

The kiss stretched on and on, shifted and multiplied.  He angled his head and took it deeper.  She felt his tongue run over her bottom lip and instinct guided her to open for him.  His tongue touched hers but she would swear she felt it everywhere, a heat that swept across her. 

He tasted of the strong spirits, roasted pork and the nibble of honeycake she’d shared with him at the tavern.  She’d never been kissed like this, not even close.  It was a raw and boundless passion, as wild and unstoppable as the raging sea. 

Sansa blossomed under that kiss amongst the hibiscus, on the edge of that tropical lagoon.  Our lagoon.  It will always be ours now. 

The thought that she’d been naked in his presence here just yesterday unleashed a relentless, budding ache that centered low in her belly and made her nipples tighten.  She wanted him.  Gods, forgive her, she wanted him whether he was her husband or not.  The water called to her.  Perhaps there were sirens there, calling her to sin.  Let me have it if that is so.  We'll drown in each other and thank you all for it.  

But they were still on land, she was not a fish and neither could live without air.  He broke away just as she would’ve been forced to gasp for breath.  She started to whine in protest but then his mouth was on her neck, the prickle of his beard against her soft flesh setting her afire anew, making her cry his name out, “Jon…Jon…”

Her fingers carded through his loose, black curls as he worked his way down towards her chest with steamy, open-mouthed kisses that made her thrum in anticipation.  She was sure to collapse.  He could lay her down upon the sand.  At the moment, Sansa didn’t think there was anything she wouldn’t let him do. 

But he pulled back again with a heavy groan.  “Sansa…Sansa…I shouldn’t…we must stop,” he murmured against her lips, his feeble words negated by the way he kept touching her body, her hair, her face, his eyes constantly searching hers.

“Why?” she cried, wanting him to give into it like she wanted.  He must feel the same about me, he must.  I love you and you love me.  Say it, say it.  Please, tell me it's so.  

“Because,” he said with one final peck to her cheek, “I’m not who you think I am either.”

A sliver of fear coursed through her.  What did that mean?  Had she been a fool, trusting the wrong man again?  That could not be.  If he wanted the reward, he wouldn't have brought her here first.  She trusted Jon.   

“What do you mean?”

He stepped back, his hands falling to his sides.  She felt like swooning.  She'd rather swoon from his kisses than this. 

“I told you my name…and you still didn’t know me.”

Something painful was twisted up inside of him and she didn’t understand but wanted so much to make it better.  “I don’t…”

“I knew I was the dirty, secret shame.  I knew I was not wanted by that part of the family but I...I'm nothing to any of you, am I?  I don't exist.”  It came out as a scoff but he was wiping at his face as if he meant to wipe away tears or perhaps their kisses. 

“How can you ask me that?  Of course, you're not nothing!  I'm...” 

“I thought you’d know Benjen at least.”

“Benjen?”  Her mind started racing, struggling to make sense of what he was saying.  “Are you speaking of my uncle?  Benjen Stark?”

“Aye, Benjen Stark.  Captain of the Sea Wolf.  Your uncle.  My uncle.”

“You never told me his name or…your uncle?!”

His eyes dropped to the wolf pendant at her neck.  "My mother's name was Lyanna," he said softly.  

She did not swoon like she had that horrible day at the sept of Baelor but the shock and weight of his implication forced her to take a seat on a nearby rock at last as Jon began to pace back and forth, as if he were working himself up to explain something terribly complicated.  Well, it is.  

Another rumble of thunder and Sansa reached up to touch the pendant.  She'd found such strength in it when she'd been so very low in Kings Landing.  Had the Lady Lyanna done the same once upon a time?

Her father had said it belonged to his sister, he'd been sure of it.  She could've laughed at the bitter irony that he was right and would never know it.  He'd rarely spoken of her though Sansa's mother had mentioned that he'd loved her very much.  How could he love her and then never mention her?  How could her father who she'd loved and admired so much have failed to tell his children of his beloved sister and her son?

She did not know so she looked to Jon and braced herself for whatever other truths might come to light this night.  

Chapter Text

When Jon had been very young, his mother had read him the stories and sang him the songs, the beloved ones of knights and their fair ladies along with tales of the heroes of old.  He had been enthralled and dreamt of being a knight someday himself, one who would accomplish great deeds worthy of being remembered in songs. 

But when he’d grown a little older, he’d made a painful discovery.  He was a bastard and bastards were never the heroes in those stories or songs because they would rarely be elevated to knighthood in the first place. 

A cruel schoolmaster had informed him that little was expected of bastards and none of it good.  Bastards were born of lust, their hearts corrupted to some extend from the moment of their conception and strangers to the notion of honor.  They were always cravens, knaves and thieves when they appeared in the stories and his mother should never have wasted her time filling his head with such ideas.  He’d then brought out his switch to drive the lesson home.  

Later that day, Benjen had been sent to withdraw Jon from that particular school.  His mother had said she did not trust herself to behave civilly towards such a man.  Benjen had later admitted in Jon’s ear that he’d not managed much civility either and had acquainted the sot with his fists whilst he’d been there. 

As his uncle had been seeing to that and his aunt preparing a warm bath to sooth his lashes, his mother had wiped away his tears and promised him that anyone could do great deeds and be worthy of being remembered in song.  And then no one would care whether or not they carried Ser before their first name or Snow after it.

“But what of their fair ladies?” he’d whispered to his mother, ashamed that it should matter so to a boy of seven, practically a man grown.  “Would they care that I’m…that the man was no ser and a Snow?”

“No, my darling,” she’d whispered back.  “Their lady would not care a fig about such things if her heart was true.”

Sansa was a lady and she had not cared that he was a bastard.  She’d called him her rescuer and true friend and told him she was honored that he had trusted her enough to share the status of his birth and was even proud to know him.

But is she proud to call me her kin?

He hoped she was.  Her heart was true but could she ever love him as he loved her?

Has she not shown you that she might?

Alright then, Sansa had kissed him.  She had kissed him and seemed to enjoy it when he'd kissed her back but he found himself plagued by doubts. 

Had she wanted him the way he wanted her?  She was a maiden as well as a lady to the manor born.  Surely, she would've been terribly shocked if he'd told her his most sinful designs, of his longing to strip her bare again and take her into the waters, making love to her under the moonlight. 

Speaking of their surroundings, had their quarrel and her overwrought emotions after her admittances combined with the romance of her magical lagoon carried her away a bit?  

It doesn't change the fact that she kissed you first, you fool.  

Aye.  Lady Sansa Stark had kissed him, her cousin whose existence she never knew of until this night.

She’d stopped his mouth with a kiss from her sweet lips with several more to follow until he'd forced himself to pull away. 

Retreating from the bliss of Sansa with her fingers threaded through his hair as he’d rained kisses along her throat and downward was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, even harder than walking home from school that day with his chin held stubbornly high until he’d reached the safety of his mother’s arms.

“We must stop,” he’d told her, despising the necessity of those words.

Her whine of protest had nearly been his undoing except for one thing.

“I told you my name…and you still didn’t know me.”

How could she have? Their grandfather had died by the time she was born and his heir, her father, had followed his lead, turning his younger brother and sister into mere footnotes in his family tree for his children without ever mentioning their bastard cousin.

He’d thought he’d outgrown the bitter resentment and pain of it.  He was wrong.  Gods, how it wounded him now.

“Can you forgive me, Jon?”

Forgive her?  How could he not?  She’d endured so much. 

Things had been even worse than he’d imagined when he’d believed her fleeing from her wealthy merchant.  Jon had known what Joffrey was for years by that point.  He never would’ve taken her to Dragonstone in the first place no matter how she might’ve begged if he’d known that was who her intended was. 

Eddard Stark might’ve believed that with some maturity his friend’s son might improve but Benjen hadn’t. 

“Gods help us all when the father dies.  That boy of his will make this country bleed and clap his hands together with glee like it’s a farce meant to entertain him,” Benjen had told Jon the first time they’d sailed together after his mother’s passing.

“Why do you say that, Uncle?  I mean, captain.”

His uncle had grinned and ruffled his curls before telling him the tale.

Mycah, one of his uncle’s men, had had a woman in Kings Landing he was partial to, a butcher’s girl.  There’s no postboxes at sea though and for a handful of years they had no contact until a letter had reached him telling of the birth of a son some time past.  She related that she’d taken on work in the kitchens at the Red Keep if he should like to meet his boy whom she’d named after him.  

The Wolf had just returned from a successful cruise and Mycah had announced to one and all aboard that he intended to marry her and how his boy wouldn’t be a bastard no more.  Jon had secretly envied the boy when Benjen had said that bit. 

When they’d docked in Kings Landing, since it was still a time of peace between North and South, their shipmate had hurried off to see his woman where, most unfortunately, she’d told him that the lad had had the misfortune of running afoul of the young prince, Joffrey, through no fault of his own.  The prince had claimed assault on his royal person and had his knights act out his violent wishes.  They’d put Young Mycah’s body in a sack when they’d returned him to his mother along with a handful of gold. 

Neither the mother nor father had ever been the same after and Benjen had not forgotten it.

“But why would he do that?” Young Jon had asked, horrified.  Benjen was no nursemaid and he did not sweeten his words or hard truths when he was aboard. 

“Because there are a few twisted souls in this world who enjoy nothing so much as causing pain, my sweet lad.  Joffrey is such a beast in the making.  And, no matter how good a friend Robert once was to my brother, the king does nothing to truly check his son.  If anything, I’d wager his own bilious temperament only makes it worse.” 

“Our uncle told you this tale?” Sansa asked from where she still sat on her rock by the lagoon.

“Aye.”

“It’s so horrid but I can well believe it of him.  He was a monster.” 

She would know.  Gods, he hated that she knew it so well.

Her eyes turned misty.  He had not wished to hurt her relating what he knew of Joffrey when they’d come to that part.  He dropped to a knee before her, wishing to give her comfort.  “I’m sorry to bring up such unpleasantness, Sansa.  I only meant to relate as how I knew his character long ago.”

“No, it is awful and I’m so very sorry for Mycah, the lady and the poor child but that is not all that upsets me.”

He clasped her hands in his.  “What then, lass?”

“That it seems my father was a fool without honor.”

“No, Sansa.”

“What else am I to believe?” she snapped, wiping at her eyes.  “He turned his back on your mother, his own sister, and never breathed a word of a cousin to us.”

He quickly fished a handkerchief out of his pocket, pressing it into her hands.  “It was our grandfather who was displeased by her decision not to give me up.”

“And he died soon after!  My father could’ve brought her home if he chose!”

“I do not know your father’s feelings.  Benjen only said our grandfather looked on my mother’s disgrace as a stain on his honor.”

“Oh hang honor!” she cried.  “A pox on men who value their honor more than their children!”  His lips nearly twitched into a smile at her passion but he didn’t wish her to think he mocked her.  She calmed herself to say, “It was a scandal to be sure but nothing a family cannot endure together.  ‘Family, Duty, Honor.’  Family comes first.”

“Those are your mother’s house words, not the Starks’, lass.  And my mother might not have wanted to come home.  I do not know the full story there.  Only that she was content in Eastwatch.” 

“You described her as beautiful and sad.”

“In a way, she was but she was happy with me, Benjen and my aunt.  I was just a boy but I always believed her sadness stemmed from my father leaving her so much as anything.”

“A merchant seaman in White Harbor who never returned, you said.”

“Aye.  Never returned.” 

The sea had probably claimed him and his ship.  Would he have hurried back to his lady love had he learnt of her condition?  Or sailed on like so many sailors before him had?  That question would never be answered.  The topic bordered too closely to others than gave Jon pain so he preferred not to dwell on it. 

“But you said Benjen told you he and my father quarreled when you were little and never met again, never made amends.”

“Aye, they never made amends in person to my knowledge but they communicated.  Who do you think signed the privateering papers for Benjen?  For me?  No one declared him King in the North but he was the highest lord in the North after all.  They all loved your father, high and low alike.”

“He was going to have me marry Joffrey.”  The heartbroken way she said it cut him to the quick.

“He’d agreed with his king’s plan of a betrothal between their two children, years and years ago, never having met Joffrey himself.  He never knew of Mycah’s boy.  He told you of letters that must’ve went astray while you were at your grandfather’s house.  And what did he tell you he was doing in Kings Landing, hmm?” he reminded her. 

It was strange that Jon should be defending Ned Stark to his own daughter when he had more than his share of resentments there.  Nevertheless, he hated for Sansa to think ill of her father this way after everything. 

“He was attempting to broker a peace and planned to put an end our betrothal and take me...home.”

That sad little whimper when she said the word ‘home.’  I’ll see you home again, lass. 

“So, see?  He was slower to come to it perhaps but he realized it could never be a happy match for you and he had your best wishes at heart.  He fought valiantly for our people.  My uncle admired his brother greatly and mourns him greatly as well despite their quarrels.”

“Yes but you did not deserve to be forgotten and ignored that way, Jon.  You’re not a secret shame!  I’d be proud to introduce you to Mother or Robb or any of them.  You’re my kin and…and I…I love you.”

He thought his heart my stutter to a halt with her words.

She loved him. 

Aye but does she love you as Lady Sansa might love her kin or as Sansa Poole might love her privateer captain? 

Could she love him in the same manner that he loved her?  As the person he had come to build his dearest hopes and dreams around?

“Lass…” he murmured, stroking her soft cheek. 

He pressed his forehead to hers, seeking the courage to tell her his heart even as his head was making everything a jumble. 

She was his kin.  He was her closest male relative and wasn’t it his duty to protect her?  It was what Benjen would have done had he captured the galley instead of Jon. 

Of course, protecting Sansa was already of the utmost importance to him, well before he’d learnt her true name, but now was it his duty to protect her innocence from his lustful desires as well?

He did not know.  He was so confused.  There’d been such a rush of emotion this day, this night, this hour.  How could a man think clearly? 

He should sail her home at once.  So many would be seeking her, so many enemies.  Her safety was what mattered most.  He could sail her home to Robb, her brother and his king.  

Aye, you could sail her home as your kin...or you could sail her home as your wife.

Wife.  He was a greater fool than even the raven knew.  Lady Sansa Stark would not consent to marrying her bastard cousin, would she?  But if she might...

What was the honorable course? 

What is honor compared to a woman’s love?

“Sansa, I…”

“There you are, you stupid arse!” 

Jon sprang to his feet and whirled in an instant, drawing his sword as he stepped fully in front of Sansa.  He knew a moment’s relief when he saw it was only Theon.

Only Theon…who knows who she is.

His relief was snuffed out like a candle.

“Easy now!  Lower your sword!  Is that how you treat your allies, Crow?!  That’ll get you stabbed in the back, that will.”

“I will lower it once you answer me this, is it my ally that stands before me…or is it Euron’s nephew?”

“Well, that’s gratitude for you and quite uncalled for,” Theon chided.  “It’s not fair to throw a man’s mad relations in his face that way, especially when I had no say in making him so.”

Sansa had risen from her rock and had her hands wrapped around his sword arm.  “Jon, I think Captain Greyjoy is a friend to us.  He could’ve acted sooner than this if he wished us any harm, couldn’t he have?”

“Exactly.  Listen to your lady’s good sense since yours is clearly lacking.  I came directly from the Crow having fresh news to share.  Thought you’d have had the sense to take her there.”

Jon lowered his sword.  “We had things to discuss that we couldn’t aboard.”

“Well, I thought she’d caught you as much by surprise by your expression as she did me.  So, have you agreed then?”

“We have.  Wait…agreed on what?”

“That you should marry her at once.”

“What?!” Jon and Sansa exclaimed at the same time.

Theon was oblivious to their shock and carried on though Jon wondered if the Kraken Prince might be able to read minds or see his heart’s desires like Kojja Mo appeared to.

“Of course, it made sense once I saw you together.  And here I find you on your knees for the lady, clasped tightly together.”

“Theon…”

“And what with your complete disregard for my lovelies earlier today.  I’ll have you know those particular pearls were well worth their fee, Crow.”

“THEON!”

“Then, you grew so disgustingly besotted like a green boy in love for the first time when you mentioned a lady aboard your ship but it wasn’t until I saw you together…”

Jon’s ears were turning red as Sansa said, “There has been no talk of marriage, Captain Greyjoy.  Jon has made me no offers of marriage and has not declared any indication that he may do so.”  Was it wishful thinking leading him to hear a slight hint of reproach and hurt feelings in her words?

“Oh, come now, Jon!  I know talk of marriage is enough to set most men off their supper.  It surely does for me.  But she's the sister of the Young Wolf, the King in the North!  She killed Joffrey!  That’s surely good enough for her to have a name of her own, ain't it?  The, um…the Red Wolf!  A fearsome beauty!"  Theon gave an exaggerated bow.  "Never underestimate the power of a name, my lady,” he added with a wink.  “And you’re known as the White Wolf elsewhere, are you not?  What a famous pair you’d make!  And a firm alliance between Northern sails and swords would rally them all!  Plus, you'll have my Ironborn fighting with you, each man worth a dozen lions and each woman worth two dozen!  Huzzah!  What is dead may never die!”

“Keep your voice down, for gods’ sake, Theon,” Jon grumbled to check Greyjoy’s enthusiasm.  “And my lady cousin is no sailor or privateer.  I must return her to her family where she will be safe.”

“You must?”

“Must you now?  And what of my wishes on the matter?” Sansa asked, giving him a displeased look. 

“Of course, I must.  Sansa, you’re wanted near and far and for a sum of gold that most cannot expect to see a tenth of in their lifetime.  I cannot risk your neck no more than I can risk my men and my ship carrying you everywhere we go in the wars to come.”

She did not reply to that and her expression changed from displeased to troubled. 

"Suit yourselves then," Theon shrugged.  "But thought you might like to know that Chett came into Heddle's no sooner than you'd left and met with three men from Botley's ship.”

"Botley?  I thought he was one of yours."

“He was until a while back but he’s been friendly with Euron of late, Asha warned me.  Got his own little ship now and sailed it right into port earlier today, I've learned.  Him and his boys always have a weather eye out for plunder.  Does Chett know who she is?”

"No but he may have reason to suspect and if enough heads get together with what he does know, it could spell trouble.  Seven hells, we must get you back to the ship at once,” he said to Sansa.

With that, the three of them made their way back along the beach leaving the lagoon behind after Sansa gave it one last mournful look. 

Someday, I'll sail you back here if you wish, he wanted to tell her.

In the interim, Theon kept up an annoyingly steady conversation with Sansa (mostly about himself) as Jon wrestled with his doubts and mounting anxiety some more. 

Leaving the Drowned Isle was the safest course at this point.  The noose might tighten at any moment if they remained longer and, if Chett managed to interest Botley and his men in Sansa, they might choose to take her to Euron.  Just the thought of that black-hearted heathen having Sansa aboard his Silence with his crew of demons was enough to hasten his stride.

The Crow was in order and had a good crew all in all.  He had hoped to give his men another day or two of liberty but they would understand.  He’d wanted to see the Hibiscus in their glory with Sansa but...well, we don’t get everything we want, do we?

As they reached the town once more, Theon came to a halt at the entrance to The Pearl Chest.  Was he truly intending to spend the night there if he was going to sail on the morning tide as he said?

“Relax, Jon,” Theon smirked.  “I’ll likely leave a few prime hands marooned here for a time even if I spend the rest of my night looking for them in every pot house and knocking shop but I'll round up as many of my Bitches as I can manage…” 

He trailed off, giving Sansa an apologetic look.  Jon realized he might have an equally long night himself with so many of the Crows at liberty. 

“Anyway, Sea Bitch will be plucking up her anchor in time for the tide.  What of the Crow?”

“Aye, the same if I can get enough of my crew collected.  Perhaps we’ll sail in company with you for a time.”

“Excellent.  I can always offer my services if need be then.”

“Your services?”

“A captain can’t marry himself but another captain can do the deed for him sure enough.”

Jon’s eyes flickered to Sansa, wondering if there was even the slightest possibility she might be amenable to Theon’s outrageous suggestion.  

He did not wish to ask for her hand here in front of Theon though, no more than he wished to open his heart to her in front of him. 

All the same, he was damned tempted at the moment to do so regardless.  Throw the dice and see what the lady says.  Tis only your everlasting joy or never ending sorrow that rides on the answer.  

Unfortunately, that was not to be.

“Well, well…look who we found, mates?”

His belly knotted up with tension just hearing that oily voice.  He turned to find Chett, Clubfoot Karl and three others behind them, all five wearing matching leers like cats who had cornered their mice.

But I am no mouse.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Miss,” Chett said with a sickly simper and eyes that spoke of evil intent.  “Where’s that sister and serving wench of yours, I wonder?  No matter, we’ll have to relieve you of your pretty piece, I’m afraid, cap’n.”

"You may certainly make the attempt.  You'll be as successful at it as you've been at most things in your life, I'd say," Jon told him mockingly, enjoying watching the man's ugly boils flush with anger.  

“You’re Botleys’ men, eh?  You’d be best not to waste your lives on the likes of these two discarded Crows,” Theon said, making it clear he stood with them.  Considering Jon had drawn his sword on him a short while ago, he found that very handsome of him. 

“We ain’t answerin’ to no crows nor any krakens these days 'cept for the Crow’s Eye, pup,” the oldest of them said to Theon. 

“Pup, am I?  You’ll rue those words, you dog.  Together, aye?” Theon finished low in Jon’s ear.

“Aye, together,” Jon said as the pair of them closed ranks, putting themselves between Sansa and the men. 

Chett opened his mouth to say more, so pleased to feel assured of the upper hand for once, as Jon discreetly fingered the butt of the pistol he kept in his coat pocket when he was ashore.  Dead men tell no tales as Chett was soon to learn.  

He only had one shot.  If the flintlock failed him, he’d look a proper fool but at least he always had his sword. 

Jon moved with lightening quick speed, drawing his pistol and taking aim just as Chett uttered the first syllable.  The flintlock did not fail and the noisy report was accompanied by Sansa’s scream when Chett fell face forward.  He no longer had much of a face, in truth.

It was not entirely honorable perhaps but there was no room for honor here. 

Swords were drawn at once and action was engaged. 

Theon was looking left and right, deciding who would be the greatest challenge. 

Jon was attempting to do the same except…

“Get your ruddy feathers out of my face, you peacock!” he roared.

He then nearly choked on his frustration when Theon swept the enormous hat from his head as if he was about to dance rather than participate in a fight for their lives, passing it to Sansa with an entreaty to be so good as to hold it for him.

His frustration ended as the deadly dance began, Jon’s sword meeting the first parry from Karl’s twin daggers.  He was no great thinker but Jon knew he could wield those knives with deadly efficiency.   

The clash of steel and shouts drew a small group of onlookers from the brothel at their back.  Jon hoped these men had no allies of their own within.  A few more of the curious came to see the spectacle from elsewhere but hung back.  Fights on the streets of the Drowned Isle were hardly uncommon and there was no City Watch to put an end to them.  It would end when honor was satisfied or in death.

Let it be death, Jon thought coldly as he ran Clubfoot Karl through with his sword. 

Jon took no satisfaction in killing.  It was merely a necessary part of his occupation at times but these men meant Sansa harm.  It seemed to trigger some primal rage within, set it loose.  Had any knights ever fought with half as much fury on behalf of their ladies?

Theon killed the man who’d named him a pup though it was a grueling fight, the old seamen having much experience.  But Jon’s wrath was unmatched to any of theirs and he dispatched the other two Botleys as readily and savagely as the pistol had ended Chett, roaring in feral triumph when the last man fell at his feet.

The battle won, he gave his bloodied sword a hasty wipe on his breeches and Theon an acknowledging bow before turning back to Sansa. 

She was deathly pale and trembling though she stood on her two feet.  His sweet lady had drawn blood herself not so long ago but she was no killer at heart.  What had she made of it?  Hadn't she seen enough of bloodshed and horror?

“My lady?  Lass?” he entreated to draw her beautiful blue eyes to his and away from the dead men.  

He started to offer his hand again but withdrew it just as quick, noticing the blood and sooty marks of gunpowder upon it.  If I am a knight, I am a soiled one.     

“We must hurry to the ship,” she said quietly, passing Theon his hat.  “This may draw more attention than we should like.”

She was right and there was nothing more to say.  

It was funny how in those old stories he’d loved so as a boy, they never spoke of the carnage in a realistic light.  If he was a knight, he was a saltwater knight and a bastard one at that.  Why would a fair lady ever wish to be touched by such as him?   

They parted from Theon at the docks only to be joined by Edd, Pyp and the ladies.  Shae and Miss Jeyne immediately fell upon Sansa, questioning her and giving her their tenderest attentions.  Jon did his best to convey the events that mattered whilst keeping certain facts between them.  The women knew the truth and Jon trusted Edd and Pyp with his life but this was no time for admittances.

They hurried aboard, the ladies sweeping Sansa off to the cabin, as Jon found Davos, so very grateful that the old man was aboard and sober as he’d hoped.  Together, they formed a party of the steadiest heads which could be found, saving Edd and Pyp who were set to watch over the cabin, to go seek any members of the crew at liberty tonight and bring them back to the Crow. 

Davos offered to lead them but Jon didn’t feel right not seeing to the task himself.  He would pay a short call on Tormund aboard Giantsbane and tell him they would be sailing at dawn.  He also wished to have his ear to the ground in case anyone else had taken a keen interest in his passengers.  He’d pass by the Parrot and ask Ros if she was privy to any more gossip. 

Three hours later, he returned to the Crow, moderately assured that the swordfight had not drawn any especially unwanted attention and that he'd at least accomplished what Benjen had sent him to do here.  And what he would say if I related all of our encounters.  

“Have boarding netting rigged once the launch is stowed.  Have the guns prepped and slow match burning.  Set out axes in answer to grappling hooks and dirks and pikes at the ready to deter any unwelcome guests, Mr. Seaworth,” he told Davos as soon as he was aboard.

“Aye, cap’n.”

“Is someone gonna try an’ board us, cap’n?” Todder asked, hearing his orders.  

“No fool would try an’ take the Crow, would he?”

“Let us hope not, mates,” Jon told the ruffled crew as the raven swooped down from the mast.

“Fool!  Fool!  Fight!”

“Aye, any fuckin' lubbers what attempts to take our ship, will be gettin' a red smile!” Cotter Pyke declared hotly, getting smiles and aye's in response.

Jon nodded to his men and repaired below to his quarters only to find Edd waiting for him there.

“If that’s blood on those breeches, you shoulda let me set ‘em to soak at once,” he said peevishly though Jon thought it was nine-tenths feigned and more an expression of concern.

“Aye, it’s blood, I suppose,” he said, glancing down at where he’d carelessly wiped his sword. 

“Well, hand ‘em over then and I’ll see to it before I turn in.”

Jon might reply it wasn’t necessary to see to it tonight but Edd could be stubborn. The little portion of the cabin allotted to him was barely enough room for two men to occupy comfortably together and he was weary.  He removed his breeches and passed them over.  Edd was muttering about his coat as Jon quickly washed his hands and face at his basin, preparing to lay down in his hammock for some rest at last.  The morning tide would come early enough.

Edd had barely left him be when he heard his voice again.  “Which the cap'n was just retiring, Miss.”

“I’m sure he is, Edd, but I’m afraid this won’t wait until dawn.  I must see him.”

Jon’s weariness fell away and his mouth went dry hearing her voice.  He grasped his blanket from his hammock, wrapping it around his waist hurriedly as some battle was being fought on the other side of the door. 

“He’s down to his…he’s not decent, Miss!”

“Then, you’d best turn in, Edd Tollett, for neither am I,” he heard Sansa say firmly as the door opened.

Oh gods. 

Jon’s mouth went from dry to watering the instant the door snapped shut again.  Sansa was standing there, less than three feet away, with her long red hair hanging loose.  She wore a beautiful dressing robe, a soft, silvery grey.  Some of those bits and bobs from Kojja Mo’s, no doubt.  And underneath, where the robe was not completely belted, a blue rose embroidered on white peeped out at him.  The white shift she’d held to her body earlier today when she’d been showing off her purchases.  The one he longed to touch while she was wearing it more than anything.

“Sansa…”

“I believe there’s some matters we need to clear up between us, Jon.”

He swallowed hard.  “What matters may that be?”

“I told you how I felt earlier and you never replied.”

“How you felt?”  So much had happened since they'd last been alone by the lagoon.  To what was she referring?  Could she possible mean when she'd told him...

“Yes and then you seemed to take exception to Captain Greyjoy’s suggestion though it is not without merit.”

“To wed, you mean?”

“Is the idea of marriage repugnant to you?  Are you indifferent to me?”

“I am the antonym of indifference when it comes to you, lass,” he swore solemnly.  

“Do you take exception to my reputation then?”

“Your reputation, my lady?”

“I was set to marry one of the greatest enemies of the North.”

“And you killed him.”

“I did.  Some will cheer me for it while others may gnash their teeth and cry out for my head.  Not everyone will believe I did it though.  The point is, I was to marry him and then later his uncle.  My reputation will be tainted merely from my association with that family to some of the Northmen."

"Not to me, it won't be."

"I’ve been sailing along with you, my cousin, all this time.  Many will not believe we did not know who we were to one another from the start and yet aboard, some of the men speak of me as if I am already your woman.  Captain Greyjoy suggested as much.  Some will likely point out that good and maidenly young ladies are not supposed to have close bonds with privateer captains.”

“Aye but…”

“Your kisses led me to believe you might feel something for me.”

“I do, Sansa," he said, his eyes locked on hers, wishing to convey his sincerity.  "I do very much feel things for you.  I...” 

She nodded, drawing a breath for courage, he'd swear, before she began untying her robe. 

“Sansa, wait!” he cried in his surprise. “I could not besmirch your honor or…”

“Captain Greyjoy has offered us his services but that can be seen to later if you're willing.  For tonight, as I told you earlier...hang honor.”

It was his mouth which was hanging open as her dressing robe pooled at her feet.     

Chapter Text

Alone in the cabin with Edd and Pyp posted outside the door, Sansa had quietly conveyed all the night’s developments and revelations in a hushed voice as her audience listened raptly to every word. 

Two sets of brown eyes stared back at her…and one set of beady black eyes.   “Snow!  Crow!”

“Are you thoroughly shocked then?” Sansa asked them when her tale was done and they still sat silent.

Jeyne started nodding vigorously, her bobbing head reminding Sansa of a baby’s wooden rattle, until Shae pinched her knee.

“It is surprising to say the least, milady.  Can’t say I’m one bit sorry for that Chett being dead though I’m concerned about who else might’ve heard you in Heddle’s.  But whoever would’ve guessed the captain was your kin all this time?”

“Did you really kiss him, Sansa?” Jeyne asked, near swooning as she rubbed her knee.

“Kiss!” cried the raven.

“Stow it, you bird.  That wild man with the beard mentioned eating the likes of you tonight and I’m half tempted to offer you up to him,” Shae grumbled.

“Wench!”

“Yes, Jeyne, I did.  And you mustn’t say that, Shae.  The men all believe the raven a talisman of good fortune.”

“A talisman of annoyance maybe.”

“Corn!  Lass!”

“Yes, you may have corn,” Sansa told the raven, giving him a handful to quiet his squawking.  “I will name him lucky.  How else to explain Jon’s and my incredible fortune in meeting the way we did?”

“It would’ve been more fortunate if we’d known all about him before we went to Kings Landing though, milady,” Shae said.

“Yes…too true.”

It hurt just thinking of that.  Dredging up the immensely painful and frightening time again earlier when she’d been bearing her soul to Jon had been cathartic in a sense but she felt worn thin from her emotions and everything that had happened afterwards.  And, now the memories of her father were grossly tainted by new knowledge.

As if she sensed her friend’s crisis, Jeyne leaned nearer and said most kindly, “Lord Stark was always very good to us all, Sansa.  All the men and women who serve your family are proud to do so.  I regret what happened to my father more than words can ever say but he loved and admired your father and I know, if he was condemned to die simply for standing beside anyone, it would be for Ned Stark.”

Sansa’s eyes filled with tears at her friend’s words.  She could not absolve him of the wrong he’d done Jon and his sister so easily but that did not mean she did not love him and carried no pride in being his daughter.  Jon’s own words in defense of him had touched her heart as well.

Shae rose from her seat at the table, sweetly stroking Sansa’s cheek.  “My father meant to make me his whore when I was younger than you, milady.  By comparison, the sins of your father are not so great as that.  The captain and his mother shouldn’t have been left a secret but you have found him now.  That is what matters at present, is it not?  Not the misdeeds of the dead.”   

“Dead, dead,” the raven said, mournfully.

Yes, they are dead.  My father, Jon’s mother and poor Mr. Poole.  Sins may fade and forgiveness may find us.  Our tears do not bring them back either way. 

Sansa wiped her eyes and thanked her dear friends, squeezing their hands.  “Someday, when our journey is over, I want us all to live near one another always if you should like that, too,” she told them, earnestly.

Jeyne nodded happily, her own eyes filled with happy tears, but Shae smiled sadly saying, “I’m not sure your lady mother would want such as me in her castle.”

“Why wouldn’t she?  And I don’t mean for you to be my servant.  I mean that you should live nearby so we may visit often as friends.  I would be proud to call you my friend...no matter the past.”

“That’s very kind, sweet girl,” Shae said before asking something else.  “But what of this suggestion of a marriage between you and Jon that Captain Greyjoy made?  How do you feel about that?”

Sansa’s tummy twisted and turned with both delight and torment.  The suggestion had been shockingly unexpected initially but, within a matter of moments, she had realized it was something she wanted very much.

“I should like to be his wife…but he seemed opposed to it.  And when I told him I loved him earlier, he said nothing in reply.”

“Nothing?”

Sansa thought back to that moment.  So much had happened this night.  “He stroked my cheek and called me lass.  Our foreheads were touching as we were so close.”

“Oh!” Jeyne cried, her hands clutched together over her bosom.

“I was so sure he was going to say it back…but then he didn’t and Captain Greyjoy came upon us breaking the spell.”

“Ah.  Sansa, I will not pretend to know a great deal of romantic love, not given my past experiences,” Shae said. 

That made Sansa sad to hear for she was certain Edd Tollett admired Shae most ardently and honorably. 

He would love you and treat you well if you’d give him the chance.  I think you must feel something for him, too. 

They had been so cozy sitting together alone at their table at Heddle’s and, while Edd Tollett might not possess the dreamy looks of some fairy tale prince, he was a good man with a kind heart which was far more important Sansa had learnt. 

“But,” Shae continued, “I do know a great deal about men and I think Jon has been half in love with you since the day he captured our galley.”

“You do?”

“I do.  And the conversation he and I shared the night they rescued us from Kings Landing as you both slept in the boat all but confirmed it for me.”

Sansa smiled, wishing she could be so sure.  She wondered what he had said to convince Shae of it.  She said as much.  

“Go and find out, why don’t you?”

“Oh, Shae!  She couldn’t possibly!” Jeyne gasped, startled by the forwardness of the suggestion. 

“Why ever not?”

“But what if you’re wrong and he does not feel the things I do?  Or what if he did but, now that he knows my true identity, his feelings have altered?”

“If learning your true identity and your relationship to him could sweep away his love so readily, then it was no true and lasting love at all.  If he hesitated to speak his heart, perhaps it’s because these speaking of his feelings in this way is a thing unfamiliar to him.  He may have thought you were referring to him as your family instead of as a lover.  And you must allow that there is a vast difference in rank between you.”

“But I don’t care about that.”

“No, but you’re not him and he may feel that difference more keenly than you.  Men can be ridiculously punctilious in matters of honor and pride sometimes even allowing it to stand in the way of their hearts.  Would you be guilty of the same folly by not at least trying to seek out the truth from him?”

The hour grew late and the three ladies decided it was time to get some rest after such an active day. They were to sail on the morning tide, Jon had said. 

Sansa took off the beautiful blue silk dress she’d got this morning and pulled on her new shift, tracing the lovely embroidered blue rose with her finger.  She touched the wolf’s pendant at her throat next.  His mother’s necklace, her aunt’s necklace.  Her father had known it.  Had he given it to her?  Had their father done so in happier times?  She could only guess at the answer now. 

She laid down in his swinging cot, remembering how his eyes had flashed when she’d held the shift to her earlier today by way of showing it off.  He feels something for me, doesn’t he?  His kisses certainly seemed to indicate he did but was it only lust?

There was barely any swell here in the sheltered harbor of the Drowned Isle but the cot rocked gently all the same.  Usually, it made her somnolent but tonight she kept worrying over Jon who was not back aboard yet and pondering Shae’s words and her own wishes.    

Jeyne was snoring softly when Sansa quietly said, “Shae?”

“Hmm?”

Her old septa’s words about trusting that her husband would know what was to be done and take care of her as his lady wife seemed quite insufficient and even awful when one reflected that she’d been preparing Sansa to lose her maidenhead to Joffrey of all people.  But then again, her septa had served the Seven since her own girlhood and probably had no true knowledge to impart on the matter. 

Shae would know of this though.

“What’s it like to be intimate with a man?”

“ My first time was with a boy from my village.  We were still quite young for such things but curious and eager to explore with nothing better to do on a rainy day in a dry barn.”

“Was it lovely?”

Shae had laughed softly.  “It was clumsy and awkward and over quite soon.”

“Oh.”  She’d not quite been able to disguise her disappointment to hear that.

“Now, it’s nothing to feel sorry for me over.  It was not all bad and we were both ardently devoted to getting better at it and practiced quite often until he was packed off into the army.”   

“I’m sorry he left, Shae.”

“It was alright.  He made me no promises and, as I said, we were quite young.  But Jon is no boy and, if he would make you promises, I sincerely believe he would do everything to keep them.  As for intimacy with a man, with the right man, a man you trust and one who knows what he’s about and who cares about your enjoyment, it can indeed be lovely, Sansa, one of the loveliest things there is.”

Sansa had listened eagerly to all of Shae’s advice that had followed.  Her cheeks had been burning at times and she was grateful for the darken cabin as the discussion wound on but she learned more than her septa had probably ever dreamt of knowing on the subject. 

When she heard Jon’s muffled voice in his own private portion of the cabin soon after, she made up her mind.  Rising from the cot and grasping her pretty robe Kojja Mo had shown her, she bid Shae a good night and left to see him. 

“Are you indifferent to me?” she asked, her heart pounding with hope and fear alike. 

“I am the antonym of indifference when it comes to you, lass.”

Oh, the solemnness of his words and his expression might very well have led her to swoon if her determination to see this through wasn’t so strong.  If she were reading such words in a novel though, she would be clutching at her bosom as surely as Jeyne had done earlier. 

Jeyne would likely already be lying on the floor in a heap if she had walked in to find you in such a state of undress. 

Edd had warned her but it had not fully prepared her.  Jon Snow was handsome and clearly a fine specimen of a man in regards to his body.  She just hadn’t realized how fine a specimen until she’d entered. 

In a loose fitting shirt that gave her a tantalizing view of his chest and which was rolled up to his elbows (had any set of forearms ever looked so strong and appealing?), he was clutching a blanket around his waist with his legs and feet quite bare.

How she envied Shae’s good fortune spying her strange fish the other morning anew but perhaps she need not envy her much longer. 

“Your kisses led me to believe you might feel something for me.”  

“I do, Sansa.  I do very much feel things for you.  I...” 

She nodded, drawing a breath for courage as she untied her dressing robe. 

“Sansa, wait!  I could not besmirch your honor or…”

“Captain Greyjoy has offered us his services but that can be seen to later if you're willing.  For tonight, as I told you earlier...hang honor.”

The dressing robe fell to the floor and his mouth hung open.  Having done as much though, she felt suddenly frozen in place.  What did she do next?  How did the courtly mating dance proceed?  Did she remove her shift at once?  Touch him?  Offer to let him touch her?  Shae had told her much but perhaps not enough. 

Vexed at her fresh bout of nerves, she glanced at his hammock.  Should she go lie down on it now?  It was not nearly as roomy as the hanging cot he’d given up for her use.  Could man and woman do…that in such a contraption?  Despite Jon’s greater experience, this might well wind up as clumsy as Shae and her village boy’s first encounter in their barn. 

Jon did not seem concerned about that though.  All of his focus was on her.  He slowly laid his blanket aside revealing more of his muscled calves and thighs.  His shirt was long enough to cover his manhood though.  Her cheeks were on fire.

He paced towards her deliberately but carefully as though she were a doe he did not wish to spook. 

His hand brushed hers, the touch setting a fresh riot of feeling surging through her to compete with her nervousness.  “Are you certain this is something you want tonight, Sansa?”

She nodded slowly, only wishing he might say the words that would put her heart at ease.  He didn’t have to.  He’d made her no promises in that respect.

“The morning tide may be too early to wed first thing but, if Greyjoy can be prevailed upon after we sail to come across or invite us aboard his ship for a spell, you’d be willing to wed me?  As a Snow and your cousin?”

“I would.” 

He nodded somberly, his eyes sweeping down to her toes and back up to her face.  They were darker than she’d ever seen them, the grey nearly obscured, when they met hers again.  He wanted her.  There could be no doubt of it. 

Her nose twitched and tears sprang to her eyes without permission.  He would bed her.  He would wed her.  He would protect her all his days.  But did he love her?

He cupped her face and smiled.  He had a beautiful smile.  How could she not smile back at him, loving him the way she did? 

“Then, I must beg your pardon for being no poet when I make my confession.”

“Your confession?”

“Aye, lass.  My confession is this…there is nothing in all the world, not in the sky, upon the earth, nor in the seas which I love so well as you.  You have my heart as no others ever have nor will and I do swear to love and cherish you always as my beloved.”

Her words came out in a great gush.  “You must hold me close at once, captain.”  His brow furrowed with concern as he asked why.  “Because I am in great danger of swooning dead away presently.”

He laughed and so did she, her heart filled with immeasurable joy before he pressed his lips to hers once…twice…and again.  No, she would not swoon.  There were other things she’d rather do. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said.

He let his fingers grasp the shift at her hip, gathering it into his fist.  “This is very fine, a lovely purchase.”

“Thank you.  I’d hoped you might like it on me.”  She gulped for air when his fingers brushed across the rose between her breasts next.

“Aye, I love it on you…but I believe I should love to see it lying over there more.”  He jerked his chin over his shoulder towards where his chart table and chair were.

She blushed and agreed, allowing him to help her.  A whoosh of fabric then nothing but the thick air of below deck.  She was bare and Jon was staring at her as hungrily as any wolf.

“Do you mean to eat me, captain?” she teased.

“I am tempted to.”  She cocked her eyebrow in a quizzical manner but that only made him chuckle.  “Soon I will show you what I mean.” 

He pulled her closer and then leaned downward to kiss her shoulder, the scrape of his beard on her heated flesh pleasing.  He kissed his way lower and chuckled again at her gasp when he licked her nipple.  He cupped the other with his warm, work-roughened hand, his thumb skimming her other nipple until she was arching up, begging for more of his touch.

She swayed in his arms, crying out as he suckled more greedily, first one breast getting its due and then the other.  She had heard that men found women’s teats to their liking but this was not a pleasure she’d anticipated for herself.  Breasts were for the nourishment of children, she’d always been taught.  But with Jon’s mouth upon her, she was undone and at his mercy.

“Do I please you, lass?” he asked, glancing up at her from beneath his full eyelashes.

Admittedly, she was clutching his soft, dark curls rather tightly, desperately wanting his ministrations to continue.  She nodded numbly and he gave her a cheeky grin.

But the next moment, his cheekiness faded and Sansa’s head was feeling decidedly woozy, more than the coconut wine had left her, when his hand cupped her mound, tickling the hair down there before tracing her womanly place with a forefinger.

“You’re wet, he said huskily, his eyes black as pitch. 

She sank against his chest, whimpering with need and unable to deny the dampness between her thighs.  “That’s good, isn’t it?”  Shae had been specific about it hurting less if she were wet.

“Aye.”

He folded her up in his arms for a loving embrace before his kisses started anew.  He knelt before her.  Why was he doing that?

“Will you…don’t you put it in me now?” she asked, only marginally embarrassed by her mixture of knowledge and innocence.  Jon would not think less of her for it.

“Soon but I mean to ensure you’re truly ready first.”

“You said I was wet.”

“Aye but I’ll see you soaking before I’m putting it in you, my love.”

“But-OH!”  His lips had brushed her mound.  She stifled a moan when his tongue was felt next.

“You’ll let me know if I please you,” he commanded.  She shivered at his tone and would swear she grew wetter from that alone.

“The others…”

“This is my ship and I am its captain and, when I love you…when I please you, I want to hear you.  I’m sure you can find a happy balance between silence and shouting, can’t you, lass?”

She giggled at his words until both of his hands were on her hips and he urged her to spread them a touch.  Her next moan was not stifled…nor the next several.

It was delightfully intoxicating, the sensation of his mouth upon her sex, his tongue teasing her little pearl as he called it, and how it could bring her to such an effervescent peak, a consuming but fleeting zenith.  Only a few times with her own hand had she managed it half so well as he just had.

He wiped at his beard and stood again, holding her close and keeping her on her feet as her heart started to slow again. 

At length, he kissed her lips softly, the musk of her arousal on his tongue.  “Are you ready for the rest tonight or would you rather wait until we are wed?  I will honor your decision either way, Sansa.”

She bit at her lip, her whole body feeling flushed but longing for more.  “I do not wish to wait but…” 

She glanced at the small table in here.  Joffrey had attempted to turn her over a table the night she’d killed him and she did not want that at all even if she knew Jon would not treat her the way that beast would’ve.  

She looked to the hammock next.  “Can it hold us both?  And will you…lie on top of me easily with the…”

She fumbled her words as his grin was breaking through again.  “It can hold us both and where there’s a will, there’s a way, they say.” 

“Well, I believe you’ll need to be ridding yourself of this then,” she said, tugging at his shirt.

The grin broadened and he pulled it over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him with no more thought than she might remove her bonnet.

Her eyes zipped here and there.  She longed to caress his arms, to feel their strength under her hands.  She wanted to kiss his chest and tease the little sprinkling of hair upon it with her nose.  Of their own accord, her eyes dropped to his manhood, stiff and pointing towards her from its nest of dark hair.  Her hand was moving forward before she stopped herself.

“You may touch me all you like, lass.”

Smiling back at him, she wrapped her small hand around him.  The skin was smooth as velvet but it was hot and hard in her hand.  She liked the way it felt.  She loved his helpless groan when she gave it a gentle stroke even more.

“Show me how we’re to do this in the hammock, Jon.”

He moved away, placing a block near the foot of the hammock before climbing in first.  “To aid your ascent when you’re ready to climb aboard,” he said of the block.

“Climb aboard?!” Even her ears must be scarlet.

“Aye, lass.”

Should she laugh?  Or be shocked?  Was she to ride him like a horse? Ohhh...suddenly, it made sense.  She liked this plan.  She liked it very much.  Not that she would mind Jon on top and holding her to him but this way she would control much of their movement. 

Climbing aboard as he said, she had her knees on either side of his hips, her legs fitting alongside his inside the hammock.  She could feel his length poking insistently upward. 

But before she could figure out how she was to center herself and take him in like a sheath covering a sword, he lightly touched her face.  “Kiss me first, lass.  I want to kiss you.  I could stay like this kissing you all night.”

And so, she did.

They kissed long and sweet until passion made her frantic, the ache in her loins no longer able to be denied. Perhaps it was a touch clumsy but they found their way in that hammock, their hands working together until their maneuvers led to her slowly sinking downward with a hiss, covering him as he stretched and filled her.

“Are you alright, lass?”

She nodded, waiting for the pain to pass and her body to adjust as Shae had promised it would.  And then, she moved. 

His hand was at the small of her back, helping to guide her as he thrusted his hips forward in time to meet her.  The hammock swayed with their movements but she was an old salt by now and found the rhythm that was pleasing to them both soon enough. 

His eyes were locked on her face and in them she saw nothing but adoration.  She had never known it could be so sweet. 

When he grunted and spilled within her at last, she collapsed upon his chest panting.

“You are mine and I am yours,” she murmured, rubbing her thumb along his bearded jaw.

“Aye. I'm yours and you are mine...always,” he promised.

She woke alone to the sounds of the raven squawking for his corn in the cabin next door and the more remote cries of the mariners on deck preparing to weigh anchor. 

Or have they done so already?  And how did he slip from the hammock without me even noticing?  As stealthy as a wolf, he must be.

She frowned the next instant.  The ship was rocking steadily in a manner she had not experienced since they’d let go their anchor. 

Part of her wished to draw the blanket up further and remain until Jon came back.  Part of her might wish to lay abed for several hours even since she felt a little tender between her legs though it was nothing to wail over. 

But a new day had dawned and a new part of their journey was beginning.  She should be sorry if she couldn’t see the Drowned Isle once more before it slipped away out of sight in their wake. 

Where will we go? 

Jon had not told her yet though he’d mentioned taking her directly home.  She didn’t wish to be parted from him.  She should tell him so at once. 

She pulled on her shift and dressing robe and dashed into the great cabin.  Jeyne was up and fully dressed in her new cream-colored dress.  Her eyes were wide as saucers.  “Sansa Stark…where did you spend your night?” 

Sansa gave her a saucy wink and tilted her head towards the wall that separated their accommodations from his. 

Jeyne covered her face and giggled merrily as her friend washed and dressed.  “Are we leaving port already?”

“Yes, Pyp says the water's quite choppy today and there's likely a storm waiting for us at sea.  They were all shouting and hurrying about whilst drawing up the anchor that I came below to get out of the way.  I shall be quite lonely in these quarters all on my own at night.”

“What do you mean by that?” 

Jeyne’s cheeks were pink as new spring roses when she cupped her hands around her mouth and whispered, “I saw Shae and Edd Tollett holding hands at the bow where he would normally be fishing this morning.”

“You did not!”

“I did!” she shrieked, nodding happily.

“Well, I am glad to hear it but I daresay Pyp would welcome you into his hammock if you wished to join him there.” 

Jeyne shrieked in shock this time and tossed her pillow at Sansa for that and Sansa laughed, conceding that she deserved it.

On deck, the hurrying about and shouting had come to an end as the ship was slipping along through the tricky passage that Jon had looked so worried over upon their arrival.  No doubt, it was equally tricky when leaving.  There were white caps everywhere which hadn't been present last time.  Still, Jon seemed confident enough.  The raven flew about amongst the tops squawking, "Cast the lead!" every few seconds or so.  

All the same, she did not hesitate to go stand beside him this time after bidding Mr. Seaworth a good morning.

Despite his preoccupation, Jon gave her a gentle smile.  “Good morning.  I hope you are well?"

"Well enough," she replied, blushing at his solicitous concern.

"I had thought to send Edd down with tea for you but didn’t know if you might prefer maintaining some semblance of denial for now.”

She quickly looked around deck at those nearby.  Their faces all became woodenly fixed on their task when they realized she was looking back at them.  “I’m assuming any denial would be a mere pretense.”

“Aye, a ship has no secrets, they say.”  He lowered his voice, leaning into her ear.  “And I cannot wipe the smile from my face despite bloody awful conditions for warping out.  I’m sorry to say I’m a poor dissembler.” 

She laughed and told him no dissembling would be necessary.  They would soon be wed.

“Where is Captain Greyjoy’s ship?” she asked, thinking of the man who would marry them.

“They got a head start through the Harpy’s, uh…the passage on us.  Satin!  Do you see the Sea Bitch ahead?” he called to the lookout.

“No, cap’n!”

He acknowledged the answer and started studying the bay's exit with his telescope. 

Sansa drifted to the taffrail to let him concentrate on his task.  Watching the little town grow smaller, a melancholy pang filled her.  It would always be such a special place to her.  Would they ever sail here again?

She whispered blessings to the breeze for Kojja Mo and hoped the men who had sworn to sail for Jon and the North would keep their word. 

She heard Satin calling down he had spied a ship and then another.  They might be man and wife by sunset if Captain Greyjoy could spare them the time. 

But when she returned to Jon’s side, his earlier smile was gone.  Every man on deck was staring intently ahead now.  

“What is it?” she asked.

His telescope was focused on something far off, too far for her to make anything out beyond a blur on the horizon.

“I’m...I think…go below, Sansa,” he said suddenly, closing his telescope with a snap.  

“What?”

“Go below at once,” he said out of the side of him mouth before shouting, “Davos!” and striding forward.

“Aye, cap’n?”

“Clear the ship for action!”

The cry was taken up and repeated by half a dozen mouths as a new and horrible alarm ate up her earlier joy.

“Jon?” she said, her hand reaching for his. 

But she could not reach him.  He was already climbing the shrouds towards the tops as agile as the monkey that had stolen her black woolen dress. 

“The women are to go below at once and stay there!” was the last thing she heard him say before Edd Tollett was by her side, chivying her below with a steady stream of entreaties and arms that were stronger than hers.

Chapter Text

Slipping undetected from the hammock with only a peck on her bare shoulder had been an act of contortion which only a seaman could accomplish to his knowledge and a most arduous test of his loyalty to duty. What he wouldn’t have given for the chance to lay there with her longer, gently swinging with the ship’s motion and watching those blue eyes flutter open as he slowly woke her with kisses and caresses.

Duty was a cruel god sometimes but one Jon Snow had spent many hours at the feet of.

Coming up on deck at daybreak, a choppy swell and lowering yellow haze on the horizon told Jon all he needed to know. Weathering the Harpy’s Cunt might be the very devil this morning.

Nevertheless, his cheerfulness this day could not be dimmed. Sansa loved him and had consented to be his wife. All he had to do was see his ship through the passage and out to sea before the squall found them. Getting caught in the passage when a storm struck, however? That would be unthinkable.

Everything seemed to be proceeding in an orderly fashion. Greyjoy had disappeared once he’d made it through but that was no matter. The Crow would spread her wings and they would find him readily enough at sea. Their journey lay along the same course with their ultimate destination being the same.

But I should infinitely prefer to wed Sansa today if possible.

‘Hang honor,’ she had said last night but he’d taken her maidenhead afterwards and her honor rated far higher than his own in his heart. No man, mother or maiden would make his woman hang her head in shame if her belly was swollen nine moons from now.

His smile even brightened, impossible as the feat seemed, when she came up on deck an hour later.

Neither Ygritte nor Ros had been anything like maids when he’d known them and he worried how she fared. And a small part of him worried that she might regret it come morning.

She did not and she was as radiant and well as ever even with her blush at the knowledge that everyone aboard knew, more or less.

At least the bloody raven isn’t squawking about it.

But oh, how quickly fortunes rise and fall and the medal reverses at sea. 

Satin’s hail of a ship coincided with his own intense study of the waters beyond their passage and revealed a most unwelcome sight.  

“Go below at once.” 

It was hardly the last words he wished to say to her. 

They will not be, he swore to himself though, from the tops with his bird’s eye view of the situation, he had to wonder.

He’d sent Satin below and felt the quaking of the mast as Pyp ascended to take his place.  Jon needed his sharper eyes right now.  

“Gods Above,” Pyp exclaimed, instantly sizing up their position. 

A black squall was hurtling down upon them at an inconceivable rate of speed.  They would be dashed against the rocky outcrop of the island’s outer rim if they did not get clear soon. 

But there in the offing, the hounds waited.  

Two ships larger than his own, one bearing the king’s standard.  If he was not mistaken, she was the Lady Lyanna.  Curious that a man-of-war should bear his mother’s name. 

The other was known to him as well and he dreaded her more than any save Fury perhaps.  Silence, the Crow’s Eye’s ship, the corrupt and blackened soul of the Iron Fleet.

Unless Theon had betrayed him utterly somewhere in the night, which Jon did not believe, they could not know who he had aboard his ship but he was well known as a Northern privateer.  He had been busily recruiting aid for the North whilst he was here. 

They might hail him first but the end result would be the same.  ‘Heave to and prepare to be boarded’ would be the Lyanna’s order and he could not comply.  To be honest, he doubted Silence would show him the courtesy of the opening hail unless it was accompanied by a deadly salvo of bar and chain. 

“Hands to quarters!” he roared to the men below.

“The hammer and the anvil, eh?"

"Aye."

"I could do with less of that before I’ve broken my fast,” Pyp said, wryly. 

His lips twitched in response and soon he was grinning.  Jon would see to it that ship's biscuit, cheese and some of the fresh fruit they'd taken aboard were served out at once.  Men would go into action more cheerily with bellies that were not empty but the dry humor and unbreakable spirit of his seamen regardless of the odds never failed to raise his own spirits.

As though the creature sensed his mood, the raven cried out swooping amongst the tops and above the deck, “Crow!  Crow!  Fight!”

Grizzled Old Cotter Pyke took up the raven's cry.  “That there's the Crow's Eye, mates!  Hell and death and no quarter awaits his prey!  Do we lay down for 'im or do we fight, me hearties?!” 

“We fight!” the crew answered to a man.

“We fight!” Jon and Pyp shouted along with them.

“I’ll see you after,” he told Pyp, grasping his shoulder once as the pair prepared to descend to the deck once more. 

Sharp eyes on lookout could not be spared.  Pyp would be needed to work his gun, same as every man aboard. 

She was glad she had not eaten anything.  It would be coming back up in no time. 

Though that tea he mentioned would be welcome, Sansa thought as she licked her dry lips, her tongue like sandpaper. 

She might almost smile at her flippant thought if she didn’t know it was only an attempt to keep terror at bay. 

But as they neared their destination, she recalled crouching in the hold along with the rats and bilge water aboard the galley when the Crow had taken it.  She remembered the horrible thumps and roars and screams and not knowing what was happening.  She thought back on her first night aboard the Crow when she’d thought they were to remain locked below in their smelly, dark store room and her childish fears that it had sparked. 

She was no warrior and she was no fool but wasn’t there some way they could offer aid?  

Edd was hurriedly leading all three women below when Sansa came to a sudden halt causing Jeyne to careen into her.

“Is there not some occupation or task I might take on?”

Edd looked at her like she’d grown a second head and shook his.  “Cap’n said women was to go below and stay there.”

“I have no desire to be on deck in the midst of battle but can’t I do something to help? The Crow is as good as my home too in a sense.  Can't I defend her?  I have two ready hands, a nimble mind and a willing heart."  His scowl was not promising.  "Please, Mr. Tollett?”

He rubbed at his chin with a thoughtful look.  “Which Jon would have my balls and rightly so if I was to disobey his order, miss.  ‘Specially this order.”

“Then tell him we disobeyed you and tell us where we might go at once,” Shae said, intervening.  “I will not speak for Jeyne but I’ve no more desire to hide in the hold and wait in ignorance than my…than my friend here.”

“Nor I,” Jeyne said boldly before adding a tremulous, “but I do not know how to wield a knife or sword like Sansa or Shae.”

Sansa smiled at her friends, rather proud to think anyone would consider her somewhat capable when it came to wielding any weapon.  

Edd grimaced and looked about considering before he began barking directions.  “One of you can go and see if Clydas needs help with his saw and retractors when the wounded come below.  It ain’t a pretty task but, if you want to help, he could probably use some.  The other two can go and see to Thoren in the magazine if you dare and tell ‘em you’re his newest powder monkeys.” 

The three of them nodded, preparing to go before Edd took Shae’s hand. 

“It’s an unskilled task but there ain’t nothing more dangerous aboard than carrying powder up to the gun crews.  You call out ‘make way for powder!’ loud and clear and they’ll skip out of your way.  But you mustn’t slip or…”

“We will not slip,” Shae promised before quickly pressing her lips to his. 

Sansa might’ve been inclined to clap with sheer delight if their circumstances were not so dire.    

As Edd was fervently returning Shae’s kiss, Sansa led an open-mouthed Jeyne away a few feet and implored her to go to Clydas, the closest thing the Crow had to a ship’s surgeon.

“No, no!  There’ll be blood there.  I can carry sacks of powder.”

But you screech and jump at every rat you see, my darling friend.  “You have a gentle heart, dearest, but underneath it is stalwart and true as well.  I know no one better suited aboard to show a wounded man care and concern than you.  Shae and I will see if Thoren makes use of us, alright?”

Jeyne nodded grimly and prepared to go to her task.  Sansa leaned forward to kiss her cheek, whispering a prayer that soon this would be behind them and they would sail for home.

When she turned, Shae was by her side again and Edd had disappeared.  “He suggested we change into seaman’s togs, milady.”

Sansa glanced down at her lovely cream-colored dress.  “Quite right.  It is men’s work we are about and pretty dresses have little place in it.”

“They mean to board us,” Davos had said of Lady Lyanna.

“They mean to rake us,” Jon had replied, looking at Silence. 

So little had passed by the ticking of a clock but, for Jon, time had taken on a different meaning in the last hour.  It had sped up and slowed down all at once the way it always did when in the thick of an action. 

Davos was in his ear about winning the weather gauge one minute and the next the canons were roaring and there was no more words said which were not shouted, tearing blood from one’s throat with every syllable.

The storm waits for what’s left of us, he thought as the winds increased their furious howling through the rigging. 

Two ships, the Crow and Lyanna, were locked in a death grip at present, nearly hull to hull as the grappling hooks came aboard and were just as quickly cut away.  The guns thundered and Jon could hear the breaking of glass below.  One desperate prayer for the safety of Sansa and the other women was half-formed in his mind when a Lyanna swung across on a rope with sword in hand, landing on the quarterdeck in triumph only to be immediately gutted by Davos with his dagger. 

“Fucking lion scum,” the old man snarled at the corpse, no doubt recalling how his boy was taken from him by another king’s ship not so long ago. 

“Fend them off!  They'll not take us a prize!” Jon shouted by way of encouragement to the crew. 

The Lyanna had more men and Silence even more.  They could not be boarded or they would be taken.  And if we are taken, we’re all dished and Sansa will be taken to the queen. 

Seeing that the enemy had made themselves a bridge of sorts towards the bow, Jon strode forward with his own sword in hand, calling for others to join him in defense of the forecastle.  “To me, men!”

In his hurry, he nearly ran down one of the ship’s boys who had darted in front of him, bearing his deadly burden.

“Make way for powder!” the high-pitched voice cried, hurrying to Edd Tollett’s beloved gun.

Jon thought it might be Pimple with his red pigtail and a voice which had not yet broken but he must’ve shot up some the past few days to be nearly the same height as his captain. 

How they grow, Jon reflected and prayed the boy would grow taller still. 

He stepped back, telling the lad to carry on before proceeding on his way.

The battle forward was a fierce one and Jon saw Pyp bloodied and carried off by two of his mates.  With renewed purpose, he gave a rallying cry and fought savagely, striking down every king’s man who dared set foot aboard his ship.  The blood was washed out the scuppers by the ever-increasing rain.

But just as the would-be boarders were repelled, the Lyanna drawing off to lick her wounds, Silence opened fire.  She had maneuvered her way ‘round to their stern, the ship’s most vulnerable and least defensible side to rake her with a deadly broadside. 

Canon balls came hurtling along the deck from aft, taking out men as they came.  He could faintly hear the squawking of the raven from far off.  If the stupid bird was in the cabin, it’d be nothing but black feathers before long.  He would admit to himself he would mourn the silly thing if that was so.

An ominous crack overhead drew his attention before he reached the quarterdeck again.  The mainmast had been struck by a wildly aimed gun.  It slowly broke ten feet from the top, falling over on itself.  It would needs be cut away at once.

“Away aloft!” Jon ordered those whose job it was but only two men answered.  The others must be wounded.

Sheathing his sword, he told Davos to get them turned so their own guns would bear. 

"Euron has much to tell us but it is only fitting we have our chance to reply, don't you think, Mr. Seaworth?" he said with more jocosity than he felt. 

Tired though they were, the men around him chuckled which told Jon there was plenty of fight left in them.  He then proceeded to climb once more to see to his injured mast.

If there were indeed seven hells, this was one of them, Sansa was sure.  How could anyone argue otherwise?  Blood and screams, explosions and splinters and all in the whipping wind and rain which pelted her like nails.

“Get below now!” Edd shouted at her.  “You’ve done enough and we’ve powder to see us for a time!  They’re gonna rake us.  Hide and get below now, dammit!”  He gave her a shove towards the hatchway for good measure, something she never would’ve expected from Jon’s sweetly taciturn steward. 

Sansa nodded, looking about for Shae.  She was nowhere in sight.  There was nothing to do now but wait and see when she might be needed again. 

She’d lost count of how many sacks of gunpowder she’d carried up from the dark depths where the magazine laid below before Jon had nearly run her down.  She’d almost yelped in her surprise, fearing recognition and how he might react to her being on deck and occupied thusly.  He had not though. 

He called me lad instead of lass.  Clothes make the man…or boy as they say.    

She thought of Albett with his red pigtail, one of the ship’s boys, that the men rather unkindly called Pimple.  She hoped her intended did not think she favored him.

Well, in the heat of battle and all, Sansa…

The errant thought aside, her tummy twisted up with grief when she saw Pyp being dragged by two of his mates, bleeding from the arm and forehead.

“Pyp!” she cried, hurrying to his side.  “I’ll help him,” she told one of the men. 

“Miss,” Pyp said faintly, his bloody fingers stroking her cheek.  “What in the name of the gods are you doing up here?  Jon will shit a-he’ll have a fit, he will.”

“Don’t worry about that or me, Pypar.  I’m seeing you below and we’ll be safe enough there, won’t we?  Jeyne is helping Clydas and he’ll…”

“Sweet Jeyne helping Old Clydas?  She’s a rare plucked one, she is, Miss, that’s for sure.”

His gentle smile was sweet though the hazy look in his eyes was worrisome.  That along with a horrid crack above hurried her steps as she promised Jon’s friend he’d soon be well again.

Patching up a mast with what spars and ropes could be found in the height of battle and in the midst of a building tempest was quite possibly the most nerve wracking and vexing task Jon could readily imagine. A hundred feet below, the men on deck looked liked ants.  The motion of the ship upon the tossing waves was amplified up here and it would be easy to grow dizzy...for a landsman.  But this was Jon's element and, for his lady, his ship and the safety of his crew, there was little Jon Snow would not do. 

Davos had turned them about and his Crow was between its two predators at the moment and doing an admirable job of giving as good as she got from the looks of things above.

“Pass me that rope,” he told Satin, finishing his last bit of jury rigging.

He could hear Davos urging the crew to keep ‘em spitting but Jon wondered how much longer the depleted gundeck could do so.  Men were wounded, some might be dead.  They were still outnumbered and outmanned as far as he could tell. 

If only we had some support or…

Like a flickering light in the darkest night or the sun breaking free of the clouds, Jon beheld the most glorious thing the next moment. The Sea Bitch was heading down upon the wind with the worst of the squall at her back and driving straight towards Silence. 

And at her back was another ship, Black Wind, his sister Asha’s ship, a beauty of a ship, none more lethal or lovely.  More followed her.  How Theon had managed to round up aid so quickly, he did not know but he was exceedingly grateful.  

“Greyjoy, you son of a bitch, I might kiss you when next we meet.  Huzzah for the Kraken Prince!” he said, bursting into laughter.  Satin’s answering laugh checked the worst of Jon’s enthusiasm.  “Get down on deck and tell Mr. Seaworth the mast will hold and that we’re to close Sea Bitch so we might mutually aid one another.”

“Aye-aye, cap’n,” the boy said, scrambling down as quick as any of his fellow primates.

Jon started to climb down himself at a pace more in keeping with his station as captain when two things unforeseen did happen.

A lucky shot from the Crow had struck the king’s man-of-war amidships and a fire was currently raging there despite the storm, occupying every able body.  May it find the magazine, he thought with heathen rage.  Nevertheless, one of their enemies was effectively crippled and they could turn all of their attentions and fire power on Euron’s ship. 

But Jon was not to see that for, in the next instant, there was a gust of wind so fierce from the squall that it threatened to lay them over.  In fact, Jon reckoned his mast was more parallel to the sea at present than rising perpendicular from it.  His normally unshakeable hold on his perch was dangerously loose when, like some angry god had decided to flick a flea off his knee, another gust caught him and Jon found himself flying through the air for a handful of horrifying seconds before the churning sea below swallowed him whole. 

He opened his mouth to hail the ship and swallowed saltwater instead.  Debris from the ship that had followed him knocked him on the head and darkness threatened despite the early hour. 

And when his eyes closed, he saw that red pigtail from earlier again in his mind and smiled.  She might've disobeyed his orders but she had all the spirit in the world and he loved her beyond everything.

Chapter Text

When she had been a girl at her lessons, Sansa had been taught that a squall was a violent gust of wind or a localized storm often bringing heavy rain.  The storm that engulfed the battling ships certainly qualified in both respects.  She was soaked through from the rain and had only just left Pyp’s side, dashing to the cabin for some spare cloth that could be used to bind wounds, when the most violent of winds hit the ship broadside on. 

Of course, she did not know that was what was happening at the time.

Immediately, the ship was nearly laid on its side. Had they crashed into land somehow? Were they about to sink?

She grabbed hold of the base of the mainmast below deck covered in its copper sheeting.  She could feel it vibrating and could picture how the winds must be howling far above where it reached for the sky. Gods, preserve those of us in peril upon your raging sea.

But slowly, the ship righted herself. The storm. How the ship had been rolling with it the last half hour. A rogue wave or blast of wind, that was all. It had passed and the Black Crow sailed on.

She smiled, inordinately pleased when she heard faint cheering above. Something good must’ve happened. They would survive this. Please gods, let it be so.

The next moment though, something completely unexpected and even more terrifying occurred.

She felt it before she heard it and Sansa was knocked to the deck outside Jon’s cabin. She was curling her body into a tight ball when the roar of the explosion made it to her ears.

“What is it?! What was that?!” she cried out though there were none about to answer her.

The tremendous echoing roar hadn't even died out but the cheering above grew louder.

Clydas would have to wait a little longer for his bits of spare cloth. She hurried up on deck, far too curious to see what could’ve happened.

As swiftly as it had arrived, the rain had diminished and nearly passed on ahead.

Shae stood at the railing staring over the side. Sansa joined her and the two women clasped hands.  “I am near blind from the blast,” Shae said, her voice inordinately loud.  Sansa's own ears were tender. “I cannot stop seeing it.”

Fire. Smoke. Burning wreckage where the enemy ship closest to them had been not two minutes ago.

There were men in the water, some blackened and some bloodied. Sansa could not tell if they lived or not. She did not want to see for certain.

“We fucked ‘em good, didn’t we, mates?!” one of the older seamen shouted, elated.

“Aye, we did! Sent those cunts down to hell to kiss King Joffrey’s bloody corpse!”

They were our enemy and they have been defeated. It is good for us.

All the same, she felt sick.

The other men were shouting similar sentiments of joy over the explosion. The fire must’ve reached the magazine. The deadly little grains of powder had gone off in one great blaze. Could they hear it on the island? Perhaps. But she could no longer see the island, did not even know if it could be spotted from the masthead now. How far had they sailed since the start of the fight?  It seemed like several hours had passed though the sun was nowhere near directly overhead.  

Off to the south, there were six ships where the squall still reigned, five of them chasing the largest. Canons were still thundering though the sound was more muted to her ears. Perhaps the explosion had damaged them a bit.

“What are you doin' up here, ladies?” a fatherly voice asked from behind them.

Sansa turned to find Mr. Seaworth dripping wet with smears of blood and gunpowder on his clothes and face.

Her chin trembled and her eyes watered. She could not cry here like a little girl. “Are you hurt, Mr. Seaworth?”

“No, miss,” he said kindly, pacing over to where they stood and looking over the side. 

They were still sailing along and the wreckage was not following them but every now and then a piece of wood or...she swallowed hard and asked what mattered.  “Where is Jon?”

He looked about the deck and then up towards the sails and masts where a slew of men were swarming to make repairs now that the fighting was done. “Busy making more repairs after the mainmast, I reckon.”

She nodded, trusting that he knew and breathing a sigh of relief that Jon was alright. 

“What ships are those?” she asked of the ones to the south.

“That’s the Greyjoys attempting to settle a family matter, I believe. The largest is our enemy, the Crow’s Eye. It’s pursuers are Theon, his sister and three of her ships.”

“His sister?”

“Aye. Asha is the elder of the two and sails Black Wind.”

Had she been Jon’s pirate lover?

Does it matter now, Sansa? He is yours and you are his. Two hearts that beat as one.

“The enemy ship, the Crow’s Eye, is their uncle, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“I hope they catch him.”

“Aye, it would be well if they did but he looks to be moving ahead. Silence is very fast and I’d say she’s had enough fighting today. She’s off to lick her wounds and she'll slip off on the coattails of that squall if she can manage it.  We’ll sail down to thank our saviors if that's the case.”

“Yes, I am very grateful to them.  We were quite outnumbered before, weren't we?”  She then made the mistake of looking to the water nearer the rail again. There was a feebly moving body there blown all that way. Sansa gulped and covered her eyes.

She felt warm arms close around her and wished that it was Jon but the old man’s comfort was welcome all the same.

“Go below, child,” Davos told her gently. “Go and see if you can find Jon’s bird or see if Clydas has need of you.”

“I will. I can do that.”

Shae linked arms with her and they headed to the hatchway when she saw Edd hurrying up with Todder, the carpenter, at his heels.

“Where’s the cap’n, Mr. Seaworth?” Edd asked.

"Aloft, I'd say.  Well, Todder?  Do we sail or swim home?"

The carpenter shook his head.  "It'll be a near thing, I'm afraid."

As quickly as it had arrived, the frightening squall was fleeing away to the east leaving a drowned rat in its wake amongst some other flotsam. 

The blow to the head had dulled his wits some but not eradicated them.  In a move of near unconscious self-preservation, Jon had an arm wrapped around a discarded keg, one with the king’s stamp upon it that had been in the water nearby.  It was not large enough to hold his body but it could lend support.  It had likely been tossed overboard during the fire or even blown this far if that was the ship which had exploded earlier.  The sound had been unmistakable. 

Jon did not know or care at present.  All he cared about was being rescued as quickly as possible. 

He had heard cheering for a few minutes after the explosion.  That had to be the Crow, didn't it?  The last gun had thundered some time ago but they were not so far off yet surely.  It was amazing how well sound could carry over water. 

“Black Crow, ahoy!” 

Nothing. 

He treaded water and continued calling out. 

But with the wind and the seas running as they are, it will be difficult for Davos to wear ‘round especially if there's damage to the rigging and with a weakened mainmast.  How fast were we sailing with the winds during the squall? 

Unlike opposing armies on the ground, sailing ships did not batter one another in a finite space.  They sailed as they fought.  Even if she were not sailing very fast, his ship would move more than a hundred yards farther away with every minute that passed.  How long ago had he fallen?  Had anyone seen him fall?

Are they looking for me? 

He was confident they would…unless, it was the Crow which had blown up and not the Lyanna.

Jon’s next “Black Crow, ahoy!” coming at the full pitch of his powerful voice had an edge of anxiety to it. 

Hail after hail after hail, enough to wake the dead, only left him winded and hoarse.   He gripped his barrel tighter and looked about, attempting to combat his rising nerves.  What had happened?  Was Sansa alright?  How long would it take them to find him?  Might they find him before dark?  What if there were sharks about?

“Bless you, boy.  Is it sharks you’re worrying over?  Don’t you know most of ‘em are all cry and no wolf so long as you don’t offend 'em first?”

Jon smiled dreamily to the sky, knowing that voice at once.  If he was only a hallucination, he was a welcome one.  “I have no wish to offend them, Uncle Benjen.  I’ve a girl I’m going to marry and, when I introduce you, I cannot wait to see the look on your face.”   

Seven men and one other women had assembled for this discussion that threatened to become a debate.  Sansa had not been invited below to join it so she’d invited herself.  She was going to be the captain’s wife.  If he wasn’t here to hear this, she would hear it for him. 

The cabin was a shambles.  The beautiful bow window that had graced the rear of the ship was nothing but shattered glass now.  The dining table resembled a pile of kindling.  Some of Jon’s instruments were destroyed.  The partition that had been raised between where the women slept and he did was gone.  She could see why he’d wanted them down in the hold instead of here. 

Where was the poor raven?  

He’s gone to find his master and beg him for some corn. 

Sansa’s trunk had escaped the worst of the bombardment.  She pulled the blue silk gown she’d worn the night before out and clutched it to her chest with a heavy heart, hoping none of the others would notice a few tears sliding down her cheeks.

A thousand years ago, you bought this dress for me at Kojja Mo’s shop and danced with me at Heddle’s in it.  A hundred years ago, I first tasted your lips whilst wearing it by our lagoon.  Ten years past, I laid it aside for my shift before resolving to come to you.  Where has the time gone since then?  And where are you, my love?

The cry for the captain had gone round the ship thrice with no reply, the echoing silence that had followed making Sansa tremble from head to toe. 

Every wounded man was checked once more to ensure there was no mistake of who they were. 

Six Crows had not survived the battle.  Five of them had been slipped over the side as was customary in the heat of battle but one had died since its ending and would have words said and a proper burial.  Everyone was quite certain of who had died though and, while Sansa would mourn them all, the most immediate point was he was not one of them. 

However, that was checked by the frightening reality.  Jon was not onboard and they were well at sea.  The island was far too far away by now for any mortal to reach by swimming before fatigue won out. He was lost.  But he can be found.  

Satin had seen him last where they'd been repairing the mainmast it was decided after some discussion.  That had led them to conclude he’d either been swept overboard during the almighty gust that had nearly taken all aback or he’d been wounded and fallen.

“If he was wounded when he fell…”

“Cap’n’s a strong swimmer!”

“How are we gonna find him?”

“We start looking, dammit!”

“In these seas with the ship in such a state?  She’s leaking like a fuckin’ sieve.  Beg pardon, miss.  Like a sieve.”

“And the rudder’s shot all to hell.  She ain’t answering the helm worth a…fig.”

Poor Mr. Seaworth had seemed to shrink before her eyes there on the quarterdeck as the argument had continued.  He was far older than Jon and a capable first mate but he was not the Crow’s captain and this was not the navy with its ironclad hierarchy and divisions of rank.  The others had a say…or thought they did. 

And indeed, Davos lacked some of Jon’s natural authority that might’ve brought the less significant quibbling to an end.  The poor man looked haunted at the thoughts that Jon might truly be lost. After the loss of his son, Sansa could not help but wonder if this might be a breaking point for him.

"He's not dead," she'd told them firmly.  She could not say she knew that for a fact.  She just knew it in her heart.  "He's waiting for us to find him."

"Aye, we owe it to him to look, Mr. Seaworth," Edd had said in stalwart support of her and of Jon. 

The others had looked to be a mixture of grief, pity and guilt. They think he's dead.  

But, whether Jon was dead or alive, the carpenter’s report could not be waved away and they might all be facing death if they did not act soon.  The Crow had suffered greatly during the battle.  She was in need of repairs and a port that could supply the necessary tools and parts for that.  The Drowned Isle did not have everything they needed.

Looking ten years older than he had this morning, Davos was addressing his current audience; the carpenter, his mate, Edd Tollett, the helmsman, Theon Greyjoy, his sister and another Iron Islander, to tell them his decision. 

The last three had come aboard once the ships had reconvened after the Silence had made good on her escape. 

Captain Greyjoy had cleared the passage well ahead of the Crow.  Knowing his uncle's ship all too well, he'd packed on sail to avoid him when he'd learnt of his presence via the lookout.  But he'd heard the canon fire not long after and realized the Crow must've been caught and forced to engage.  

He was fully prepared to render aid with only his ship but, as fate would have it that day, his was not the only ship drawn by the sound of the guns.  A small portion of his sister's fleet had been making its way to the Drowned Isle for a little debauchery of their own.  The siblings had had their quarrels but they were devoted to one another.  One shouted conversation across the waves and something about a golden kraken had been enough to bring Asha Greyjoy's support of her brother and his new ally.  

Under other circumstances, Sansa would be extremely fascinated by Asha, a female pirate and captain of Black Wind.  Long legged and lean with a sharp nose and dark hair cut short, she was not a beauty but not unattractive either.  She dressed like the men and carried a short sword on her hip.  There was a swagger to her walk and an easiness in her speech that spoke of long-held confidence of her place in this wooden world. 

Once upon a time, Sansa would’ve envied her that ease and confidence and found her most intimidating.  Not now.  Not after weeks aboard the Crow, not after Kings Landing and Joffrey, not after last night and today's battle and not with Jon missing.  

"What say you, Davos?  Are you sinking or swimming?" Asha asked.  

“We must make haste for Tyrosh to make repairs.  Their yards are well stocked.  With some assistance, we should be able to make it there.”

There was a huff from Edd but the others were nodding, the carpenter most of all. 

"Qarl, help tow them to Tyrosh in your Peach," Asha told the other Iron Islander present.

"That's handsome of you, Asha."

She dismissively waved a hand.  "It's nothing.  My little brother has made you our allies and I've been longing to gut my uncle for some time now.  I'm no admirer of Cersei's either.  We'll fight your battles with you once we collect the rest of the men loyal to me...so long as Jon wasn't pissing in the wind about making it worth our while."

"Jon is not our king but he does seem confident that King Robb will..."

"Robb will not forget those who aided our cause," Sansa said.  Eight sets of eyes turned her way, some vexed and others amazed that she'd dared to speak.  She did not care.  "You have my word House Stark will honor its allies in this fight but what about today?  What about Jon?  Are you going to do anything to recover him?"

"Your word?  What is your word worth to me?" Asha asked though she did not seem to mean it unkindly.

"Asha..."  Theon said before hurriedly whispering in his sister's ear and her eyes grew wide.  

Sansa told herself not to blanch.  Theon knew who she was and so did his sister now.  In time the other friends here would learn it but not now.  "What about Jon?" she repeated, turning to Davos.

“Miss...he's likely...”

“He’s not lost.  He’s out there but adrift at sea.  It's up to us to find him.”

“I agree with her,” Edd said.  “We should sail back over our course.”

“Did you not listen to a word I said, Tollett?  We cannot manage it in our current state.  We must sail for Tyrosh at once if we don’t wish to swim there!  You saw the hold with your own eyes!  Five feet deep of sea water and barely holding even with the pumps going nonstop!” 

Sansa wanted to scratch the carpenter’s eyes out.  Hang his logic.  

But he turned to her with an apologetic look next.  “I know you care for him.  We all do, miss.  Do you think I want to give him up for dead?  But we have no way of knowing precisely where we were when he went overboard.  The seas were rough and the likelihood of making an error with regards to the current and our course would be very great.  The best set of eyes aboard this ship cannot climb the mast to look for him either at present.”

Poor Pyp was unconscious at the moment and under Jeyne’s care.

“It’s not that I want to write him off this way,” Todder added, letting emotion touch his words.  “It ain’t that way at all.  But one man's life versus the entire ship.  Please, Mr. Seaworth.”

She looked to Davos again and already knew his answer.  Their logic was sound no matter how much she hated it.  "We sail for Tyrosh," Davos said, barely able to keep a sob at bay.  "Go to your stations now and we'll ask our guests to part company as soon as may be."

A chorus of 'aye's' followed but Sansa knew one other man who had a ship of his own who had not yet spoken.  She went to him now, more than willing to beg as she placed a hand on his tattooed forearm.  "Please, Captain Greyjoy, won’t you try? He’s not dead. I feel it in my heart.”

Theon glanced towards his sister and then back at her, covering the hand on his forearm with his free one.  “I will spend the remainder of the day looking for Jon until night falls.  If we haven't found him by then though..."

It was something and she would take it.  "You'll already have him aboard by nightfall.  I know it."  She dared to kiss his cheek in thanks. 

His cheeks colored from her kiss and his smile was soft when he said, "I will do my best for you, my lady, but…I hope you understand what a long shot this is.”

“I do.”  Gods, she was so relieved he was willing to try.  And if they should find him… “Will you let me sail with you?  May I…”

He shook his head at once.  “No.  My ship and her crew are not…you will be safer here.  If the Crow truly looks to founder, Qarl will take you all aboard the Peach.  It'll be hugger mugger but he can see you to shore at least."

The other pirate nodded before Sansa noticed he had his arm wrapped around Asha Greyjoy, the pair saying their goodbyes...as lovers.  She missed her own lover more than she could possibly express and worried for him.  But in her heart, she believed.  She had to.  The gods had been so cruel already.  They could not be this cruel, could they?  She clutched the blue silk to her chest again and silently prayed that they weren't.

"Once the repairs are made in Tyrosh, you sail for White Harbor, right, Davos?” Theon asked.

“Aye.”

“My ship and Asha's will be busy for a while rounding up our fleet but I promised Jon I’d see him in White Harbor a month from now."  He turned back to Sansa, kissing her hand before putting that enormous feathered hat of his back on.  "I’ll sail him home to you there if ever I can, my lady.”

“And when you do, I hope you might marry us there.”

Gently drifting on the equatorial current, westwards and probably a little north, Jon watched the sun go from overhead to slowly settling lower in the sky.  His weathered face was not effected by the sun's rays now that it had come out but he was thirsty, mighty thirsty.

"I could use some ale."

"I think you're foggy-headed enough for now," that voice said in his ear again.  "You need to move some."

"No use expending energy swimming, is there?  Where would I swim to?"

"It keeps the blood moving.  Don't argue with me.  Don't you want to see your girl again?"

"More than anything." 

"Sing while you're at it.  Keep that brain of yours from thinking too much."

"Yes, Uncle."

He gave a few powerful strokes before settling on a paddling motion, moving his arms and legs enough to feel them again.  He did not sing but hummed at least, one of that old devil Mance's favorites, 'Two Hearts That Beat as One.'  He wondered if Sansa knew the song.  He would sing it to her someday perhaps.

Every so often, he’d call out like a minute gun hoping to lead them to him as if through a fog.

As his body alternated between drifting, treading water and swimming a little, his mind kept whirling frantically along even with the humming.  He reflected upon the relativity of motion and the difficulty of measuring the speed or set of a current if your ship was moving with it and without a fixed point of land to observe or way to anchor.  The longer it took for his absence to be noted, the greater the probability of error in those calculations grew.  

And Davos is no great shakes at mathematics.  A fine sailor but he does not know his signs from cosigns nor the satisfaction of calculus and trigonometry.  And then, there is the Crow to consider.

Davos had asked him when he'd determined to go after Sansa in Kings Landing after receiving her note from Dareon's what would Jon do if it came down to the ship and her crew's safety or Sansa's.  He'd felt guilty and not given a direct answer.  He knew that Davos would not have made the same choice he did if the circumstances didn't allow them to safely look for him.  

He worried about the state of his ship and her people more than anything.  Did she still swim?  How many were wounded or killed?  Was Sansa alright? 

Over and over, the questions plagued him until the cycle spun out to pointless, bitter regrets that he should leave his love alone and worrying over his sorry hide.

“I am exceedingly concerned that I’ve found myself in a spot that I know not how to extract myself from,” he told Benjen as the sun began to sink.  He feared the dark.  He feared the cold it would bring with it.  He looked to the east where the sky was turning indigo. “Shall I meet my father here, do you think, Uncle?  He died at sea, too.”

“Not today, my sweet boy,” that gentle, deep voice he trusted so very much answered. 

Unfortunately, Jon wasn’t sure he believed him. 

Despite the squall, the sea had felt warm as milk initially.  It did not feel so now.  He was becoming waterlogged…and shivering.  He dreaded death and yet perhaps this one would not be so bad.  It would be a simple slipping off to sleep, into coma and then passing on.

“I should’ve liked to marry her…more than anything, Uncle Benjen.  She would’ve been my bonny wife and me her faithful husband.  I’d have sailed her anywhere she pleased or walked ashore never to view the sea again if she said it must be so.  If she could know that somehow...” 

The prodigious amount of saltwater surrounding him did not prevent him from adding to it then as he gripped his keg and let his sorrows carry him off to sleep, so weary of waiting for help that was unlikely to come.    

“Crow!  Snow!”

Startled from something that may have been the start of that deeper sleep, Jon raised his head to see the raven sitting upon the keg.

"Is it really you?"

"Crow!  Snow!  Fool!"

"Aye, that we are."  His face split into a grin as consciousness returned.  Surely, he was rescued.  But when he looked about, no ship did he see.  Only the black bird, staring at him.

“Corn!”

“I have no corn for you.”

“Corn!  Corn!”

“Shut up, you ruddy bird.”

The bird hopped closer, giving his hand a peck.

“Ow!  Why, you fucking…be gone!"

He made a shooing motion but the raven hopped closer to beg some more and probably peck him again.

"You’ve plagued me long enough, Pestilence and Death!  You can eat my eyeballs later but you will not steal my rest!” 

He made to splash at it and the raven cawed irritably and ruffled it feathers, preparing to take flight.

And in an instant, Jon knew more terror than he had known since he’d fallen.

“No, wait!  Wait!  Don’t go!” he cried then, horribly afraid at the thought of being left alone with darkness nearly upon them.  Even the company of the bird was better than dying alone in the wine dark sea.

But the raven flew off, cawing without a care. 

Jon turned his head to see it go…and lo, there was a ship.

How enormous it seemed to him in the water with its arrowhead figure head.  He wondered if it would run him down or if he even had the strength to attempt to avoid that fate. 

But it did not. 

The wheel turned her and he could still hear the raven cawing when a row of faces appeared along the side of the three-master as she spilled her wind to check her speed.

“Lookee here, mates,” a familiar voice called.  “We’ve caught us a drowned bird…or a wolf.  Shall we fish it up for our supper?”

“Theon…” Jon said quietly, too moved to think up a factious reply with so much relief and joy swelling throughout his chest.  

When he was hauled aboard, nearly insensible from his fatigue and the cold, Jon was stripped, rolled up in a blanket and laid in a hammock in the cabin where Theon walked in with the raven perched on his shoulder.

"That's my bird."

"You can have it back when you are better."

"Where is she?"

"Your ship or your lady?"

"Sansa.  Both."

"They're on their way to Tyrosh for much needed repairs but she is well.  She sent me hunting for you.  She knew I'd find you." 

Theon started to say more but Jon's overwhelmed emotions made him uneasy.  Men did not always know how to act when another man cried even if they were not tears of sorrow.  He awkwardly patted Jon's shoulder and said he'd send him some food and drink shortly. 

"Rest for now, Jon.  You'll see your lady again."

He would.  

Chapter Text

Alone by the railing, Sansa watched White Harbor grow larger as the seamen went merrily about their tasks, pleased to have reached a home harbor again.  

The whitewashed stone buildings with their steeply pitched grey slate rooves stretched out along wide cobblestone streets. It was the smallest city which could be called a city in the Seven Kingdoms and arguably the cleanest and most well laid out.

But the fortress looming ahead as they neared the inner harbor with its black crumbling walls was a dreary, imposing structure. The Wolf’s Den still served as a prison but it was also an inspection point for any ship wishing to gain the more sheltered inner harbor. Sansa could not say she would relish setting foot inside it.

They had passed Seal Rock a while ago but she could still hear Pyp mimicking the marine animals which had been sunning themselves upon it, making Jeyne and the men near them laugh.

Not that there is much sun for sunning.

An overcast day for the most part with the breeze whipping stray tendrils of hair into her face and the sea spray coming over the rail in random bursts to wet her cheeks and chest, leaving a fine film of salt on her lips. She licked them telling herself it was the North she tasted but snowflakes might’ve been better.

The mostly grey sky matched her mood well. Twenty-two days of sailing north-northwest away from sunnier skies after several days of thorough but hurried repairs in Tyrosh.

And no word of you.

That was the hardest part, keeping faith in the face of so much uncertainty.

No one aboard spoke of him in the past tense in her presence but she knew many of them thought him dead.

Much as Sansa was still clinging to hope that they were mistaken, doubt had been working on her mind the past two days as she’d been feeling peaky on and off.

She’d pinned so much hope on him being here already.

But they had already passed a few fishermen asking if Sea Bitch was in port or any of the Iron Fleet. The men they’d questioned had acted horrified at the notion of any reavers coming ashore in their peaceable city and said no ship by that name was there.

She knew there was a chance they might beat Theon here since he was to help gather up his sister’s fleet and may have had his own delays but he’d spoken of a month’s time and it was past that. She’d so earnestly hoped that Jon would’ve outpaced them and would be waiting to pull her into his arms the moment she set foot ashore again.

But that is not to be.

She heard Jeyne’s soft laughter and looked back over her shoulder to where she stood with Pyp. They were holding hands. Why did it make her so irrationally angry to see it?

She drew a deep breath to combat the unwarranted feelings of jealousy and misuse. She was happy for her friend, for both of them. And Jeyne and Shae had been a great comfort to her spirits throughout this entire journey as well as their latest voyage.

Pyp had recovered from his wounds but, if it had not been for Jeyne’s devoted care, that might not have been true. He’d been desolated to learn of Jon being lost overboard, so grey and worn for a man his age that Sansa had feared he would slip away from mourning his friend within thirty-six hours of the battle’s ending.

That had not been the case.

Every spoonful of broth had been brought to his lips by Jeyne’s hand. Every encouragement to have faith and carry on had come from the girl. Every quiet gesture of love and devotion had made him stronger.

And when he was truly on the mend while they were docked those days in Tyrosh, more had transpired.

“We, um…last night when all was quiet in the sick berth and no one was about…we found comfort together. We found pleasure in the comforting,” Jeyne had told her the morning after they’d set sail again, blushing scarlet and begging her not to think unkindly of her for it.

“Why would you ever believe I’d think unkindly of you for that, dearest?” Sansa had asked. “You know what Jon and I are to each other and how I’ve acted. Septa Mordane would never have approved but she is not here and we are not little girls anymore.”

“Yes, of course. It’s silly of me to worry about such things and Pyp swears we’ll marry when we set foot in the North again. If the captain returns…I mean, when the captain returns, he’ll do the same by you, I know.”

“When he returns, yes. Perhaps he will be waiting for us there and we’ll be married together.”

“Oh, yes! I would love that so, Sansa! And if Edd will only ask Shae,” she’d added in a whisper, “Why, we could as easily knock three birds on the head at once as two, couldn’t we?”

They’d giggled and nodded to one another but that had been weeks ago now.

Shae had been more philosophical regarding Edd’s intentions towards her. “He’s a sailor and we’re having a bit of fun in the face of harder times. They’ve battles to fight beyond reaching White Harbor, too. I do not expect an offer anytime soon if at all. He’s not so young as your captain, Sansa, but we will see. I never much thought of setting up as a wife, not in a very long while.”

It hurt her heart to know how thoroughly Shae had given up on romantic love even if it was clear how partial she was to the dour-faced steward.  But given the looks she saw Edd giving Shae, Sansa had no doubt he would wish to make her his wife. He might just be a little shy of asking, suffering from a morose and pessimistic outlook in general. Perhaps she might have a word with him…when her own spirits were not feeling so oppressed.

“I was an unwilling guest there once upon a time,” Davos said, slipping up beside her in his quiet manner of late and pointing toward the Wolf’s Den.

“Were you?”

“Aye. A pirate captured to face justice and lucky not to find myself in a crow’s cage or with my neck stretched.” She grimaced at his bluntness. “Beg pardon, my lady. It was your uncle who sprung me from there. We even broke bread with Lord Manderly himself before all was said and done.”

“It’s alright. I’m glad Benjen helped you…and you may just call me Sansa, Mr. Seaworth.”

"Sansa.  Then you will call me Davos, I hope."

She nodded in reply.  

Her great secret had been shared with the Crow’s first mate at last a couple of weeks ago when she was becoming more certain they would reach White Harbor. It didn’t seem right to leave him in the dark considering all they’d been through together. But on the whole, most of the crew still knew her as Miss Poole which was no doubt wisest.

"They say King Jon Stark from long ago had it built to defend the White Knife from raiders and slavers," she said, looking to the Wolf's Den again.  

"That is true.  Let us hope our own Jon finds us here, eh?" he asked before pulling out his telescope, taking note of ships in the outer harbor as they drew up towards the mooring where they would dock for him to pay his call at the Wolf’s Den, as a free man this time.

“No sign of Theon’s ship?” she asked, wishing, wishing, wishing the fishermen they’d seen earlier had been wrong.

Davos snapped his telescope shut decidedly after a few minutes of searching. “No.” He patted her hand before heading off. “Don’t worry, child. I have faith we’ll see Greyjoy soon.”

Yes, but will Jon be with him?

It was a wonder to Jon at times that more sailors did not run melancholy mad. 

Once he was somewhat recovered from his mishap (or near death from hypothermia), he was afire to sail to Tyrosh and return to his woman and his ship.  Of course, that was not to be.  He was not the captain of this ship and Tyrosh was not where Theon’s quarry lay. 

The meetings with the other Iron Islanders had possessed its frustrations especially for a man as impatient as a demon to fly north at once but one who knew that speaking except for when he was invited to would do him no good at all. 

If the Northmen were an independent-minded, slow-to-accept-outsiders lot in general, these people were doubly so.  Suspicious of everyone they didn’t call kin (and usually suspicious of them as well). 

They were also superstitious to a fault though Jon would admit that to be true of nearly all seamen (as superstitious as any band of cats or crones).  With their oaths to the Drowned God and his portents along with their strange fascination with drowning enemies and converts alike, they seemed to agree to nothing in haste when they agreed at all.

But, despite the disadvantage her sex might present in such company ordinarily, Asha Greyjoy knew these men and how to handle them all too well.  And few could dance the finger dance so well as her.

One hundred and seventy ships sailed for White Harbor with them now at long last and Asha’s Black Wind was at the head of them.  Benjen would be so pleased. 

Jon would be pleased as well except for one thing.  Asha had given her blessing for Sea Bitch to sail ahead but the entire bloody fleet remained stubbornly in sight after days and days of indifferent winds which had made everyone’s progress painfully slow.    

When Jon had let fly some of his vexation regarding the ship’s speed (truly a sloth might make better time) and the more lubberly actions of some of her rum-soaked crew, he’d received wry looks from her captain and several outright hostile ones from the others. 

He’d since learnt to bite his tongue.  No captain or crew would tolerate much deriding when it came to their ship.  They may have saved his life but that didn’t mean some of them wouldn’t just as soon slit his throat as listen to him besmirch their ship.

And now this calm…smooth as glass…like a fucking pond ashore. 

They could harness the wind but they weren’t its creator.  No breeze could be bought for a hundred million dragons.  No breeze to be had at all even if the entire crew of every ship was whistling themselves blue in the face from sunup to sundown. 

“Ow!”

“Careful, Crow.  That could’ve cost you a finger,” she cackled as he pulled out a handkerchief to stem the flow.

Due to the calm that had them all drifting north-northwest at a snail’s pace, Jon and Theon had been invited across to share a meal with Asha and her men.  He figured it was only manners after eating and a few ales to engage in their game at least once. 

Besides, the table’s amusement over his slip was soon replaced by something more akin to respect when he won as Eldred Codd was forced to wrap a handkerchief of his own around the stump where his pinkie finger had once been.

“Snow!  Crow!  Fool!”

Aye, a fool to play their bloody game but what is a man to do as he waits and waits and waits?    

Jon gave the raven a pat on its fool head, dreading another night of listening to Theon snoring as the ship idly rocked upon the swell, when one of Asha’s youngest pirates ducked his head in, some cousin from her mother’s side on his first voyage.

“Dagmar says he feels an almighty wind a’building, cap’n.”

“Then tell him to visit the head and not bless the rest of us with his foul air.”  

The men at table laughed at Asha’s jest as the boy looked perfectly blank.  It was common enough to play off one’s humors on the newly joined in such ways but Jon did not think the older seaman had sent the boy below to annoy his captain at her table. 

“It could be a wind or squall,” Jon said carefully, not wishing to seem like he was steering her.  Asha was not a woman who would appreciate being steered.  Then again, he didn’t know any women who did.

“Gods be good,” Asha grumbled in the face of the boy’s continued presence and Jon’s words.  “I’ll come and see.”

Jon followed along with Theon and he smiled when he looked over the railing at the water between their two ships and could see the swell was increasing with ripples reflecting the feeble moonlight back at him. 

By the next morning, they were cracking on in earnest, riding the waves, powerful and free, as the gods intended. 

“You can go below!  You’ll only get soaked to the bone up here!” Theon shouted in his ear.

“Aye, so I will!” he shouted back, laughing like a madman as the raven flapped his wings irritably but remained steadily perched on his shoulder.  “I’ll stay all the same with your permission, Captain Greyjoy!”

Theon just shook his head, muttering on about lovesick fools before barking orders to his crew. 

Jon would gladly take the dousing, utterly convinced that his presence on deck during the tempest would keep the favorable winds blowing and that the ship’s way might be hastened by half a knot with the clenching his stomach muscles alone. 

The ship had let go its anchor practically on the doorstep of the Wolf’s Den and Davos had said they’d go ashore together at once. 

“Dress warmly,” Davos had told her. 

The weather was far colder here than it had been across the sea at the Drowned Isle but Sansa only had so many clothes to choose from.  And I am of the North no matter how much time I spent in the South.

She selected the blue silk gown that Jon had purchased her at Kojja Mo’s shop figuring that, while it would raise eyebrows in White Harbor, at least she would not look like a lost little maiden away from her home for the first time. 

She pulled out the heavy cloak Kojja Mo had selected for her next.  The woman had told her it would suit when her Ocean Eyes beheld chillier seas.  The soft grey wool trimmed with white fur suited a Stark of Winterfell very well.

Braiding her long hair to keep it out of her way in the wind, she touched the wolf’s pendant at her neck Jon had given her for courage, the one that had once belonged to another Stark.  She whispered a prayer for his safety and went up on deck with Shae and Jeyne.   

When she would look back on that day later on, she might grow quite weepy.  The Crow had been her home for many, many days and held her heart in ways her grandfather’s estate never had, not to mention her months in Kings Landing. 

At the time though, ignorance had been their bliss and it had not occurred to Sansa that it was to be a farewell of sorts.  She’d wondered why there were tears in Pyp’s eyes when all of the hands had turned up to give them a cheer as they’d been helped over the side.  Nearly every man had been wearing their bits of black silk Sansa and Jeyne had fashioned into tokens in remembrance for their lost shipmates aboard Sea Wolf.

Her surprise upon entering the Wolf’s Den had kept her from thinking too hard on the fact that their trunks had followed them ashore or contemplating what Davos intended.

A surly looking man wearing spectacles and hunched over several ledgers at his desk eyed them with distaste when they were ushered into an interior room.  The planks beneath their feet were warped.  From the moisture, Sansa realized.  This place would never be dry and it felt closed in.  A most inhospitable prison though Davos said he had known far less comfortable ones.  

There was a fluttering in her tummy when the surly man said, "We don't take women here."

"And I am not delivering them to you.  Davos Seaworth, first mate of the Black Crow, asking for entry to the inner harbor..." His voice dropped to a whisper when he added, "...and I'm seeking a word with the Old Wolf."

"Crow, Crow, Crow," the man said, licking his fingers to turn a page before wetting his pen.  "Ah yes...are you true, Davos Seaworth?"

"I am."

"How true?"

"As true as bread and salt."

"What time is it?"

"Night gathers." 

Sansa was perplexed by Davos' responses.  Whoever said as true as bread and salt?  It was hours until nightfall even though the day was grey.  The man however wasn't perplexed.

"When shall the night end?"

"Not until freedom's dawning or my death."  

Well, that was rather chilling.  

"Go on then," the man replied, clearly satisfied by the answer.  

"I am the sword in the darkness, I am the watcher on the walls, I am the shield that guards the realms of men."

"Very well.  Where did you first grow?"

"In the North."

"Where shall you be planted?"

"Throughout the Seven Kingdoms."

"And where will you blossom?"

"In the heart of Kings Landing."

"Excellent."

The man stood and shook Davos' hand before hurrying off as the first mate gave the ladies a self-conscious grin.  "Rebellions tend to be risky business so we have codes and such."

"And a flair for the dramatic," Shae said, wryly.

"Aye, that too."  

Sansa's own thoughts on the matter didn't have time to bud for the door the man had passed through was opening again.  A tall man approached them wearing a sword, boat cloak and black hat.  

“Others take you, are you here at last, Davos?” he asked as he and Davos clasped forearms, his gruff northern accent so like Jon's.  

Her mouth hung open as he then drew Davos into an embrace, murmuring of his prayers for Marya and their boys and of the several songs which had been sung in Matthos’ honor. 

The brothers were not twins but they had resembled one another greatly with the same nose and dark grey eyes, eyes they shared with their nephew.

They had never met but her father had spoken here and there of his brother.  Young though she had been, she had sensed pain but also much affection in her father’s words.  Her uncle’s choice of occupation had likely cause discomfort to the highest lord in the North, one brother bound to uphold his country’s laws while the other flaunted them quite often.   

“Well?  What cheer, Davos?  Has Jon sent you ashore to tell me of success or failure?  And who are these lovely ladies you bring?  I told Jon he couldn’t keep the redhaired lass aboard but I see he doesn’t always listen to his old uncle anymore.”

Davos’ troubled brown eyes looked her way. “I’ve good news and bad, Benjen, but first…”

He trailed off as Benjen Stark looked at her more closely.  One hand lifted and a long finger stroked the pendant at her neck.  Their eyes met and she would swear she saw her father looking back at her for a moment. 

“Jon would not readily give this away.  Are you a thief, child, or a mirage?  You favor my good sister too much for coincidence, I think.”

“I am no thief or mirage, Uncle Benjen,” she answered.

Three hours later, Jeyne and Shae had been tucked away into rooms in White Harbor’s cleanest, most respectable inn while Sansa and her uncle sat beside the common room’s hearth.

Benjen quietly watched the logs breaking up under the fire once she’d shared her entire tale.  She waited anxiously for what he might say.

“It was a lucky stroke him finding you not once but twice.  It’s dangerous for you to be here outside the walls of Winterfell.”

Was that all he wished to say?

“Yes but you understand what I am saying then?  That Jon and I…”

“Would wish to wed post haste?  Aye, lass, I understand.” her uncle chuckled.  Lass.  The word made her shiver.  “But you will be going home.”

“Home?!  But I need to return to the Crow for when Jon returns!”

“When my nephew returns, assuming he still breathes, gods willing, we will sail to battle at once.  Robb means to launch his assault before winter makes it impossible and awaits word of our blockade to do so.  It will be no place for three women no matter how you might’ve helped against the Crow’s Eye.” 

She started to protest but he overrode her, knowing the thing that would help win his argument. 

“Go home to your mother, Sansa.  She grieves for her Ned along with your younger siblings and the sight of you alive would bring them much comfort when so many had feared you lost.”

Family, Duty, Honor.  She missed them and longed to see them.  She would give them comfort if she could though she wanted her man more than anything. 

Benjen used her silence to press another point. 

“And even here in White Harbor, the Lannisters have their spies and men willing to do whatever for Cersei’s gold and favors.  You are not safe in any port until this war is ended.”

“You think someone would mean to abduct me?  Steal me back south?”

“For certain.  And your friends will be safer there, too.  I will send you all home under guard at once.”

“But Jon is…”

“No buts, Sansa.  I would see you safe and I know Jon would feel the same.  I don’t know how successful a second attempt to take you from the capital would be and I don’t think Cersei would give us the chance to rescue you regardless if she had you in her claws again.”

No, Cersei would kill her as quickly as possible rather than risk her slipping away again, though in public and painfully if she could manage it. For Sansa to go South again would be to court death.  

With no further arguments to raise, they talked of other matters and Sansa raised a topic that was painful but one she wanted to know more of.

“We did not know who we were to each other when we met.  If we had, it might not have changed us falling in love but it would’ve changed other things.”  She scowled at the fire.  “Why did my father never speak of Jon to us?  I cannot hold him in the same esteem I did knowing he would turn his back on his sister that way.  I would hope that Robb would not do the same by me if...”

She blinked back tears.  What if he really was dead?  He was not here and she’d hoped so much that he would be.  What if she was a fool to hope and the men were right to suppose him lost? 

And what if she was with child from their one night of passion?  Would she be like her aunt?  Abandoned by her family and their child never spoken of simply because he or she was born on the wrong side of the blanket?

No, Robb wouldn’t. 

She had to believe that just as she had to go on believing Jon was alive until she saw Theon again.  Even then, she might tell herself some other ship had picked him up instead of Theon’s or he’d made a raft of seaweed and palm fronds and sailed it to shore.  Anything to not give up on him.   

Robb was fighting a war but Benjen had told her of a group organized by her brother and mother and led by Howland Reed and his crannogmen to find her if ever they could after Ned's execution.  They had not been successful thus far.  They would not be successful in finding Sansa Stark either and Sansa hoped they could be safely recalled to the North as soon as possible.

“Your brother would do the same as mine to keep you and your babe safe if you found yourself like Lyanna.”

“What does that mean?”

“Lyanna was betrothed to Robert Baratheon when she was but a girl and it led to much strife in my family.”

“Betrothed to Robert Baratheon?!  The former king?!”

“Aye, the same.  Of course, he was not king then but our father and his had agreed to the betrothal.  Lyanna knew what was expected of her but also knew what a marriage to Robert, a hard-drinking, whoremongering, temperamental young man who would soon have unfathomable power, would be like.  I suppose the affair with Jon’s father while she was here in White Harbor was her rebellion, not that the worthless man did her heart much good sailing off and dying at sea.  But she never once regretted her boy.”

Her aunt had been in the same position as herself except she had known what her betrothed was going into it.  She’d defied her father’s wishes and had an affair.  If Sansa had met Joffrey when they were younger and got to know him well enough to take a true measure of his character before they were to wed, would she have done the same?  Would I ever have left the Crow when he’d captured my galley? 

“But, if the betrothal was broken, I don’t see why she remained with you and your wife at Eastwatch instead of coming home.”

“Because the betrothal was never broken.  Our father wanted her to have the child away from prying eyes and sent her to me in Eastwatch.  He found a well-respected farmer who agreed to take the babe, hoping she would still go along with the plan to marry Robert afterwards.  He pretended that she was merely away visiting friends elsewhere when letters came from the South.”

“That’s infamous!”

“My father would’ve named it ambition more than infamy.  For his daughter to wed the future king…well, it was a great honor that he was not ready to give up easily.”

“But Lyanna did not agree.”

“No and, when our father died, Ned came to see us.  He held Jon in his arms, asking Lyanna if she wished to come home but warning her that Robert had not forgotten her and was growing most impatient for her to sail South and become his bride.  She told Ned to tell Robert that she had died of an ague.  Ned did not wish to lie to his king and friend and the three of us quarreled bitterly but in the end, Ned agreed.  Lyanna got a promise from our brother before he left for she feared, if Robert had learnt of her child, he might’ve turned vengeful.”

Sansa could well believe it from the one time King Robert had paid a call at Winterfell when the business of her betrothal had been arranged.  A merry, fat man in his cups but one for which wrath was never far away.  His desire to unite their two families through his son and herself made a different sort of sense now.  It sickened her somewhat as well. 

“But Jon doesn’t know all of this!”

Benjen shrugged.  “Your aunt didn’t speak of Robert in that sense and neither did I.  We preferred not to think of him…even if he was our king.  They say the fool’s last word was her name.”

“Yes but Jon believes he is some secret shame to my family because he was never spoken of to us!  Because he’s a bas-a natural son.”

“The boy was always so quick to take offense over that word, bless him.  I never told him any of you were ashamed of him.  I only told him that you all lived your lives and we lived ours.  As for Ned not speaking of it, my brother always was one to hold things close to the vest...more than necessary at times.” 

What more was there to say in reply to that?  

But I will tell him and he will know the whole truth.  

It did not absolve her father of all his mistakes and it might not ever erase the wounded feelings Jon had lived with but it was something and Sansa would take it. 

The hour grew late and Benjen told her to get some rest.  He would have a guard arranged by midday tomorrow to escort her home.  "I'll send them at noon to collect you.  Up the White Knife and then home to Winterfell."

"Yes, home to Winterfell." 

It was a comfort to think of home but so much had changed since Sansa had last laid eyes on it.  She hoped that someday though she might show it to Jon. 

Though they'd crept down the bay in the darkness, they were nearly there now.  It would be dawn in another hour but a grey one with just the faintest hint of lightening to the east.  The welcome sound of sea lions barking away on Seal Rock greeted his ears. 

Jon smiled to himself as Theon came on deck looking frowsy and ill-tempered.  “Have you gotten a wink of sleep since the start of that blow?”

A most blessed blow.  The almighty wind, or Dagmar’s Fart as the sailors had dubbed it, had seen them crossing lines of latitude and longitude in quick order, hurrying them to White Harbor.   

“Very little, I’m afraid, and I’m come over with a sudden drowsiness this morning but we are so close now.  I hope you slept well, Theon.”  You were snoring to wake the dead when I gave up on sleep. 

“Three whole hours of sleep in a row?  It was welcome though not near enough to fully relive all my adventures at the Pearl Chest like I wished but a captain gets what rest he can.”

“This is true.”

“And there’ll be women here, too.”

Jon grinned at Theon’s lustiness.  “Aye, women here, too.”  He could not wait to see his woman.  Perhaps he was lusty as well. 

“But there will also be war.”

Jon’s grin dimmed. 

War. 

They’d run across Harma’s ship outside the bay and she’d told them in her testy way that Tormund’s ships were already awaiting the pleasure of lay-about Iron Islanders and Northern kneelers.  She’d told them of Benjen’s presence as well.

He would rather avoid the delays they’d meet with at the Wolf’s Den but Theon’s Sea Bitch was the first of Asha’s fleet to arrive and it would expedite matters if Jon was there to vouch for him.

He would wind up most grateful he had paid the call there first. 

An hour later, he’d bid Theon farewell for the time being and was walking along the wharf towards where the Crow was said to be at anchor.  He spied her grey hull and sails almost at once amongst the other ships.  Like a mother would know her child amongst five hundred other children, he saw her plain as day in dawn’s half-light and his heart swelled with love for her and her crew.

But that was not where he would go first.    

“Go on then,” he told the raven.  “Tell ‘em I’m coming.”

The black bird squawked and flew off at once, crying out, “Snow!  Crow!  Cap’n!” in the bleak and chilly morning.

Some of the simpler hands already thought the bird some necromancer’s familiar.  What would they think when the raven appeared after over a month of him being lost? 

He looked forward to seeing their faces, each and every one, when he set foot aboard his ship again later today…but not yet. 

“Till noon, lad.  The men I’ve chosen will be coming to collect the women at the inn then and she must be ready to go.  And, tis as long as I can spare you with all we have to make ready before we sail,” Benjen had told him before giving him one more affectionate embrace.

“I want to marry her before we sail, Uncle.”

“Then it had best be done by noon today if ever it can be arranged so quick.”

Till noon.  One night they’d shared and now one morning.  Was he only to have her in pieces, here and there?  No matter.  He would accept any time with Sansa most happily and make the most of it.

Up the broad street he walked.  He had only the lamp lighters come to snuff out the night’s candles for company.  

One of the city’s many septs several streets away was ringing its bells as he neared the inn, inviting the devout to pray before they broke their fast, or the sinners to atone for their night’s wickedness, he supposed.

It was a peaceful time of day in the city.  There was a strange romanticism to be found here with the bells ringing in the distance and the crisp northern winds ruffling his hair. He wondered if his mother had found it as charming as he did when she’d visited here all those years ago and met his father.   

He could smell the salt and fish of the harbor and only had to look back over his shoulder to see the pearly grey waters.  But he could also smell other things;  woodsmoke and fresh hay, pine needles and a hint of snow, hot bread baking and damp earth.  Land smells.  He was on dry land this morning when, for a time, he’d despaired of ever reaching it again.  And better than that, he was walking upon northern soil and soon to see his lady.

He stated his business to the innkeeper but heard familiar voices coming from the common room.

“Edd?  Pyp?”

Amazed and joyful could not even begin to describe their reactions to see him still breathing and standing before them. 

“Ladies,” Jon said next, bowing to Shae and Miss Jeyne. Both wore only their dressing robes purchased at Kojja Mo’s shop but expressed their own happiness in seeing him.

A sea of words and explanations beyond what he’d learnt from Benjen followed but he had little time for it.  Noon was still several hours away but not nearly enough.

“Which we ain’t deserting in case you're wondering at our presences here.  Mr. Seaworth said as how we could call upon the ladies and pay our respects and…”

“We couldn’t sail away without saying our own goodbyes and making provisions for the future,” Pyp added, earnestly pressing a kiss to Miss Jeyne’s hand and making the girl blush and weepy at once. 

When the devil had this occurred? 

“Aye, provisions for the future…if we have one and one was willing to take that chance and…”

“Enough, Edd Tollett.  I already said I’d have you for a husband and no other, didn’t I?” Shae said with a fierceness in her tone that was underscored by the tenderness of her eyes.

When the devil had that happen?!

“Aye, you did.  She’s going to be my wife, Jon.  What do you think of that?”

“I’m main delighted for you, Edd, and all of you.”

“We were going to take ‘em to the Merman’s Tavern for that crab and cheese bake with eggs of theirs if you want to come along.”

“Thank you, Pyp, but…”

“But he’s not even seen Sansa yet!” Jeyne screeched, coming to the conclusion quicker than the rest.  “Oh!  Oh!  You cannot come with us!  Stop standing here and talking!  You must go up at once!  She’s in the room at the top of the landing all the way down the hall!”  She gave him a shove to get him moving.  “And come and join us later if you wish!”

One flight of stairs and his heart was thundering to the point of pain though from excitement and some nerves more than the exertion. Giving his beard a scrub and his hair one smoothing lick, he knocked softly upon her door. 

It is terribly early to surprise her this way, a crumb of doubt suggested.  The shock of seeing you alive might cause a lady to faint dead away and then what will you do?

Catch her if she does…but my lady is made of sterner stuff than one might think at first glance.

“Yes?  Who is it?” he heard her ask from the other side of the door, the sweetest, dearest voice in all the world.

“Sansa…it’s me, lass.” 

He could get nothing further out.  He was breathless just from uttering those few words.  Had he climbed a dozen steps or a thousand?

The door swung open and he heard her gasp before he was staring into those beautiful blue eyes, the eyes of the woman he loved with all his heart and soul.

“Am I awake?” she asked almost fearfully with her hand resting at her throat where his mother’s necklace lay. 

“You are awake, my darling girl.” 

“You’re alive,” she said, half a sob.  “I knew you were, I knew it.” 

Like a tidal wave, it swept through them both then, the overwhelming relief and other emotions.  His supposed manly strength crumbled and he would’ve wept like any babe in her arms if he was not so happy to see her.  Weak and desperate for her touch, he reached for her, pulling her to him and inhaling the sweet scent of her, his rope-roughened hands caressing the smooth skin of her arms.   

“You are awake and I am only convinced that I did indeed live now that I lay eyes upon you.”  His eyes dipped to her lips as he licked his own.  “Sansa…” he said gruffly.  At once she was tipping her head back, welcoming his kiss, welcoming him home.

Hot and hungry and oh, so sweet, they tried to fit over a month’s worth of kisses into that handful of seconds. They were panting for breath when some sense of propriety came to him.  She wore only her shift and, though no one else seemed to be stirring this early, he started to suggest they go inside the room.  

It turned out he didn’t need to do so. 

She took him by the hand, tugging urgently.  “The day has dawned and we do not have long unless our uncle can be swayed.”

Benjen was not likely to be swayed by more than an hour at most.  “Will you marry me this day, lass?” he asked her as the door snapped shut behind him.  He spoke of marriage but he felt dizzy with desire no sooner than it did.  A bed all for them and a private room with no crew or ladies or nosy ravens within earshot. 

“Gladly if we can find Captain Greyjoy.”

"Theon?  Must it be Theon?"  He’d likely be busy with his own assignations ashore before sailing off to war.  He didn’t get a chance to say that though.

“Oh, it must be Theon.  And before we wed, you must come to my bed at once, captain.”  

She promptly pulled her shift over her head.  She wore nothing but a soft, silky pair of drawers under it.  Like the night he'd first beheld her beautiful body by the Siren's Pool, his eyes drank in the vision of her like a man dying of thirst.    

“T-t-to-to your bed?” he stuttered. 

“Yes, we will pass a lovely hour or two there, don’t you think, Jon?” she smirked as she started pushing his coat over his shoulders. 

“An hour or two?”  His coat landed with a soft thump upon the floor. 

“Would that please you, Captain Crow?”

She reached for the hem of his shirt but he was faster, his movements growing more frenzied as he felt his cock thickening with need.  The shirt soon joined the coat on the floor.  Their mouths were joined as well when Sansa began deftly working at the lacing of his breeches. 

He fumbled with the lacings of her drawers, babbling like a green boy in his hazy state of lust.  “Aye, a dozen hours would please me more but an hour or two will suffice.  Benjen always says to make hay while the sun shines and…”

She pressed a slim, cool finger to his lips, nipping at his earlobe with white teeth like a she-wolf might, his she-wolf.  “Jon…I think we could do with less talking just now, don't you?”

“Aye-aye, captain,” he growled before steering her towards the bed.       

Chapter Text

“Jon…less talking just now,” she had said and that suited him perfectly well though gods, he’d missed her sweet voice. 

A few unintelligible grunts and muffled words as they guided each other towards the bed that dominated the inn’s little guest room as she was still working to unlace his breeches.  The sight of her wearing nothing but a pair of silky drawers, some more of those bits and bobs from Kojja Mo’s shop, had him near desperate.  Best money I ever spent. 

But someone would likely wind up injured or he’d fall flat on his face trying to remove his breeches if they didn’t remove some of his own bits and bobs first, the kind a privateersman carried. 

“Mm-moots,” he murmured against her lips once he’d removed his belt and laid aside the dagger, musket and short sword Theon had given him before going ashore.

She quickly nodded, breathing as raggedly as he was before shoving him down onto the bed with more strength than a man might suspect she possessed just by looking at her.  “Allow me.” 

He chuckled over that shove and the throaty way she’d spoken.  But when she knelt before him, her blue eyes darkened to the shade of sapphires as she pulled off the first boot and then the next before she commanded him to lift his hips so she might yank his breeches off…oh, it gave Jon some delightfully dirty notions.  His lady was still new to all of this though.  Another time perhaps.  

He scooted backwards across the bed until his back was to the solid headboard and beckoned her to him with a gesture.  There was a hint of gooseflesh forming on her arms and it was decidedly chilly in the room so they moved under the blankets, Sansa climbing over him until she was half lying on his chest.

He wanted to hold her as lovers might all morning, he’d be content if all she wished to do was kiss and talk and share the things they’d missed whilst parted.  But she wanted him and his own thirst for her was too great her to delay with his cock hard and heavy and brushing against silk and the softness of Sansa. 

“These are quite pretty but let’s take ‘em off for now,” he told her, tugging at her drawers.

Blushing, she aided his efforts until she was as bare as him.

His hand slid up her side to squeeze the soft flesh of her breast, marveling at the beauty of a woman, of his woman.  His thumb lightly stroked her nipple.  He watched it tighten into a little pebble and enjoyed the way Sansa arched her back, pushing more of her breast into his hand, wanting more.  “Please…”

He happily obliged but also kissed her mouth, wanting to tell her how much he’d missed her, how much he was going to miss her after today and how he’d ached for her those weary days apart.  Later, he would tell her.  Sansa’s kisses were as eager as his own, hungry and desperate.

“Are you ready?” he breathed against her lips after a few more minutes of kissing.

“Ready for what?” she asked a little dreamily, gasping for breath when he tweaked her other nipple. 

Jon grinned saucily, raised his hips and flipped the two of them swiftly, enjoying her surprised yelp. “For that.”

She started to laugh in reply but they both moaned as he lowered himself to surround her with his arms and allowed his cock to settle between her thighs.  He pulled one of her legs over his hip even as he went back to kissing her.  

He felt a building urgency so great it nearly rendered him dizzy but told himself to be good and go slow.  She had only done this once and he feared she might still have some maidenly hesitancy or tenderness but that voice was faint, very faint.  

He kissed her neck and behind her ear and lower, letting his teeth scrape her soft skin before sucking lightly, wondering if he’d leave a mark there, some evidence of his passion that would linger when he was leagues away.  He grew even more aroused at the notion. 

Sansa might’ve been thinking along a similar line for her nails raked down his back as she rocked her hips. Jon could feel her slick against the head of his cock.  “Hurry, Jon.  I want you.”

So much for his fear of maidenly hesitancy.

All the same, he entered her slowly, reveling in the feel of her warmth surrounding him. He loved the way she stretched for him, as if she was pulling him into her body. He groaned, wanting to enjoy the moment but knowing he’d never last long this time.

“This is going to go much faster than I’d like,” he warned her.

Sansa gave no sign of disappointment, only rocked her hips again. It was enough for him and too much as well. He pulled the leg over his hip further up his body and dove the remainder of the way into her.

Her breath hitched and he repeated the motion. His hands wandered, touching her hair and hips and between her legs.  Sansa moaned and begged for more. 

As his thrusting found a rhythm, she bit down on his shoulder and Jon felt control slipping.  Needy and fierce, he started pounding into her harder. The bed shook noisily, the springs creaking in time with Sansa’s whimpery cries and lovely moans.  Jon did not know if any music could be sweeter to him.

He reached between her legs stroke her pearl, that sweet little bud of pleasure, fervently wanting her to find her peak with him.  She arched her back, crying out at the combined sensation as he greedily suckled at her breast with the growing tightness in his balls prepared to engulf him.

Sansa choked out his name, her eyes squeezed shut with her mouth hanging open and he knew he’d succeeded.  He proceeded to thrust, even harder and faster, another handful of times, nearly driving her into the headboard before he grunted out her name.

Sansa was gazing up at him through heavily-lidded eyes as though she’d just awoke from a dream when he returned from his own bliss.  “I love you.”

He kissed her lips, told her he loved her too and they settled with him on his back, cradling her close.  If only they could stay here like this for the remainder of the day. 

“I’ll make love to you next,” he told her.

Her expression was a mixture of amusement and confusion.  “Wasn’t that what we just did, Captain?”

“That was more like a frenzied fu-um…well, I intend to take my time with you next go, lass.  To make it last longer and give you every pleasure.”

Her smile widened as he could see her soaking that in.  She shivered with delight and snuggled closer. 

“But for now…”  He clutched her to him.  “I want…gods, Sansa…I want…”

She saw it then and her hungry curiosity softened, adoration shining in her eyes as she finished his thought.  “To hold me.  To be held.  I want that as well.  I’ve missed this.”

“Aye, lass.  Me, too.”

The contact, the intimacy of touching in this manner, it was still very new between them.  Jon had known little of this sort of lying together with a woman.  His past experiences had merely been about satisfying the most basic desire.  Once that was done, he had generally been expected to leave and, to be honest, it was often what he’d been ready to do as well.  Not now. 

Tenderness and affection, this was something he was learning with Sansa.  He’d only had her in his cot the one morning before today and he’d been forced to slip away regrettably early.  He’d be forced to leave far sooner than he liked today as well but she was here with him now and he already loved this. 

He nestled her against him, encouraging her to tuck her head under his chin.  He kissed the top of her head and kept his arms wrapped around her. 

They had been parted for over a month, wondering if they would ever see one another again.  There was much to catch up on. 

She shared with him the tale of his mother’s betrothal, something he had never known.  It was a surprise to say the least though not an entirely unwelcome one since it finally gave some understanding regarding his mother’s decisions and both of his uncles’ actions.  He had never hated Eddard Stark but he had resented the feeling of being unwanted very much.  Now, it made a sort of sense.  Though he could’ve at least mentioned me to his children. 

It didn’t matter now.  Robb Stark knew his name now thanks to a meeting with Benjen last month he’d learnt before coming to find Sansa at the inn.  And of course, he was well acquainted with Sansa by now. 

“I had to believe you’d come back to me,” she murmured almost to herself as she stroked his chest. 

He caressed her bare upper arm in return.  “Someone had to, eh?”  She laughed softly.  “No, to be serious, I was so afraid that day.  I didn’t want to leave you, feared I’d never see your sweet face again,” he admitted, allowing the terror to seep out of his marrow for good now that they were joined again.  Even Theon, who he had wept in front of, did not know how close to despair, how close to slipping off, he’d been.  “It was my darkest hour.  But you believed I lived and convinced Theon to look for me.  If not…Thank you for loving me so fiercely, Sansa.” 

Her eyes sparkled with tears.  “I told myself the gods would not be so cruel although I know that they could’ve been.  I’m just so glad that Theon found you before it was…”  She trembled.  “I don’t want you to go today.”

“I know.”  He dropped a kiss upon her shoulder.  “I don’t want to go either but I must.  I want the threat to you and to our people to end and then I want peace.  And when we are parted again, I’ll remember your strength and seek to make it my own, lass.”

That brought him another smile at least.    

“Speaking of Greyjoy, whether it’s him or some septon, I mean to marry you today, Sansa.  I will not sail off to war wondering if I’ve left you unmarried and carrying my babe perhaps.”

She nodded, thoughtfully.  “Theon or some septon then.  I believe we may give him more than one couple to marry at once.” 

“Aye, I caught a hint of that below before I came up.  I knew Pyp was taken with Miss Jeyne but that it should be requited, I did not know.  Nor Edd and Shae.  When did that happen?”

“My dear captain, it’s been happening for some time, I believe.  Perhaps your mind was on your ship and your feelings too engaged elsewhere though to be keenly invested in your friends’ love lives.”

“Aye, you’re right.  Well, I’m glad for them all.  May I ask you a question?”

“What do you wish to know?” she asked, tipping her head back to look up at him with a gentle kiss punctuating her reply.

“When did you realize you loved me?”

“I did not admit it to myself until we reached the Drowned Isle but, looking back, I believe it was already upon me the day you carried me ashore at Dragonstone and gave me this necklace.”  She reached down to touch the wolf pendant, the only thing she wore.  He liked her just like this, a sweet memory to carry with him South.  Her words touched him deeply, too.

“A day most painful in my memory.  It tore me in two leaving you, thinking of you off to marry another.  I already knew I was in love with you by then.”

A smile touched by bittersweetness.  “It hurts to remember, doesn’t it?  But it is in the past and I will marry no man but you, Jon Snow.  When you return, you’ll come to Winterfell and I’ll show it to you.”

“I would like that.”

“And someday, I want you to sail me to the Drowned Isle again and make love to me in our lagoon.”

“I would love that, lass.  But now…”  He rolled to his side so they were face to face.  “I believe…”  A gentle kiss.  “I’m ready…”  A more passionate one.  “To show you what I mean by making love to you.”

“Oh, yes…please, do.” 

“Sansa?  Will you help me?” Jeyne asked, lifting her hair with one hand and holding out a familiar item with the other.

“Of course, my dear.” 

It was the shark’s tooth that Pyp had given Jeyne before they’d parted at Dragonstone.  Jeyne had kept it with her throughout their ordeals in Kings Landing, assigning the same significance to it that Sansa had to the wolf pendant necklace Jon had given her. 

At some point when they’d been ashore in Tyrosh, Pyp had found a jeweler capable of making the shark’s tooth into a pendant and attached it to a fine filigree chain, a symbol of his love for her to wear when they were parted again.

Sansa didn’t like reflecting on the upcoming parting.  The minutes were already slipping past them like sand in an hourglass.  Anyone who dared mention the time would be getting a scowl from Sansa this morning.

But her and Jon had laid abed for a good while longer than intended after that second time, when he’d made love to her as he’d said. 

She’d prodded him into admitting what he’d attempted to conceal earlier when he’d alluded to a distinction between love making and something else. The term, which naturally she’d heard before, was coarse but she’d giggled against his throat in reference to it when it came to her and Jon and also understood what he meant now. 

She didn’t regret either, not with Jon.  Whether it was the frenzied act of desire they’d plunged into wantonly upon their reunion or the tender loving full of heady passion, she would cherish the memories of their time here in White Harbor together in her lonely bed in the days ahead.

“Tell me what you like, lass,” he’d said huskily that second round. 

With eyes locked on each other, Jon had held her wrists clasped in one of his hands above her head and slowly led her towards that happy falling apart sensation with every thrust of his hips. 

“This…please.”  She’d wrapped her legs around his waist and been rendered incapable of making complete sentences.

“This?” he’d teased, eyebrows raised as he surged forward, filling her fully and making her gasp before he’d turned playful.  “Or would you prefer that?”  He’d jerked his hips back then, nearly withdrawing from her body, but his mouth had captured one of her nipples at the same moment and her eyes had rolled back.

“This.  That.  Both,” she’d whimpered without shame.

“Both for my darling girl, is it?”

“Aye, captain.  Both,” she’d said, nearly slurring in her pleasure. 

She’d opened her eyes to find him looking at her, staring at her as if he was determined to memorize every detail.  “There’s my lass I love.  I want to see those pretty blue ocean eyes today,” he’d said sweetly then before thrusting deeply again and making her breath hitch as his mouth latched back onto her nipple.

“Sansa?”  Jeyne’s back was to her and she was still holding up her hair. 

“Sorry.  Lost is thought,” Sansa said to Jeyne, blushing over the memory she’d been recalling in her friend’s presence.  “Thank you for bringing us back some food by the way.”

“Of course.  We knew you might not be able to break your fast with us what with not wishing to, um…rise too early.”  Jeyne started giggling then which of course had Sansa doing the same. 

“Be still or I’ll never get this latched securely,” she admonished as the giggles subsided.  The admonishment was quite half-hearted.    

Once Jeyne’s chain was fastened, the two girls turned towards each other with happy smiles.  Jeyne was in her cream-colored muslin but Sansa had opted to wear the blue silk for Jon.  She’d wear the muslin gown home though.  It would be better for traveling.   

“We’re to be brides today.  Can you believe it?” Jeyne asked, happily.

“I can,” she replied, kissing her friend’s cheek. 

It would be nothing like the wedding Sansa had once envisioned for herself.  No Sept of Baelor, no High Septon in his pristine robes.  No lords or ladies in attendance wearing their finest clothes, no silk banners or golden sconces with candles covering everything that stood still.  No yards of lace or satin for her train, no delicate slippers upon her feet or rosy-cheeked girls carrying baskets of flower petals for her to walk upon.  No prince in brocade and gold bullion waiting for her.    

Sansa couldn’t care less.  Thank the gods that hadn’t been her fate in the end. 

However, there was one element which pained her.  Her family wouldn’t be there.  Her mother would not whisper any words of encouragement or advice in her ear.  Her brothers would not tease her or glower at her groom, their cousin.  Her sister could not question why girls even had to marry to begin with but still sniffle when she hugged her as the music swelled.  Her father couldn’t give her away either. 

She quickly dashed at her eyes, refusing to allow those realities to oppress her spirits. 

Jon had said he’d find their uncle. There was a certain romance to knowing Jon’s parents had met here, that he had been conceived here. Their family aboard the Crow would be present and her dearest friends in all the world would be standing beside her marrying the men they loved as well.  It would be enough.  It would be more than enough. 

She would gladly take the wooden planks a ship’s deck at anchor and a few dozen former pirates as her witnesses.  She’d happily tipple a horn of ale or even a bottle of rum instead of champagne from a crystal flute if it was her and Jon’s felicity being toasted rather than the misery she would’ve known as Joffrey or even his uncle’s bride.  And she would kiss her new husband under the grey skies of White Harbor and kiss him goodbye in short order but he would be hers and she would be his officially. 

If they succeed in their mission to find the man to marry us. 

They would.

Yes, a septon would do if Theon couldn’t be found but Sansa wanted Captain Greyjoy to marry them.  She’d attached an almost superstitious significance to it at this point.  It was Theon who had made the suggestion of marriage between them in the first place and Theon who had listened to her plea and wound up rescuing Jon. 

Shae rejoined them in the room her and Jeyne had shared last night a few minutes later.  She was wearing the lovely coral gown she’d acquired at Kojja Mo’s shop and a gold band shaped to resemble a dolphin which Edd had dug out of the bottom of his sea chest, saying it was from an old capture but he hoped she wouldn’t be ashamed to wear pirated goods as a token of his faithful admiration and affection. 

“Ashamed?  Of something my man gave me to express his devotion?  I’ve been given fancy jewels, gold coins and silky bits, some of them likely stolen as well, from men since I was younger than these girls but this is the first gift I’ve been given that didn’t come with the same sort of strings attached or the same lack of commitment with it.  Why would I be ashamed of wearing your ring, Edd Tollett?”

Edd had blushed and stammered that she shouldn’t be.

“But just so you know, I plan on us consummating this union if ever we can before you sail,” she’d added which had made Edd blush even redder. 

Shae was wearing a radiant smile today and Sansa couldn’t be more delighted to see that.  “They’re back.” 

“Oh good!  We were growing anxious of the time,” Jeyne chirped.

Sansa tried not to scowl at the reminder of time and asked, “Did they find Captain Greyjoy?”

“They did but…well, he’s a bit more full of cheer than one might expect so early.”

“Cheer?”

The word was barely out of her mouth when Sansa could hear Jon’s hectoring in response to a sweet, true tenor coming from below:

“The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun,
and her kisses were warmer than spring.
But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,
and its kiss was a terrible thing…”

“Seven bloody hells, Theon!  I’d like to be married before we slip our moorings.  Are you going to sing the whole thing again?!”

Apparently, he was going to do just that.

“The Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed,
in a voice that was sweet as a peach,
But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own,
and a bite sharp and cold as a leech…”

Sansa could hear more sounds of discord from below and decided there was no need to ask the men to navigate him up the stairs.  Their trunks were already packed and Benjen had made arrangements with the innkeeper last night, saying he’d be sending a hand to collect them and the ladies before noon.  The trunks would be here waiting even if the ladies were a few minutes late returning.

“Come along, ladies,” she said, grasping both women by the hand, barely stifling her joyful laughter.  “Let’s go be married.”

They thundered down the stairs like a herd of excited fillies, all pleased as punch when their grooms turned as one to lay eyes on them.

Jon bit at his bottom lip she’d swear was still swollen from their kisses and gave her a bow as Theon spied them and cried out with exuberance, “Oh, good day, lovely ladies!  Listen, are you sure you really want to marry these three rogues?”

“Quite certain,” Sansa answered, unable to take her eyes off Jon. 

He was wearing a fresh shirt and his spare captain’s coat which he must’ve gone to the Crow to fetch and the black silk favor she’d made him was tied around his neck.  No prince in brocade and bullion.  My privateer in leather boots and a sea captain’s clothes.  Simply perfect. 

“But why should they be so lucky, I ask you?” Theon said in a peevish tone.  “If it’s a rogue you want, I’m not half bad, you know.”

“Of course, you’re not, Theon.  I’m sure some very lucky woman will happily marry you someday when you find each other.”

“Say, you’re right.  In fact, one of you beauties could marry me.  Actually, we could sail to the Iron Islands and I could marry all three of you there.  One of you could be my rock wife and two of you my salt.  There’s plenty of this kraken to share and we’d-OOF!” he finished with a groan as Jon gave him a hearty smack across the back of his head, knocking his tremendous hat off. 

“You’ll shut that mouth of yours if you know what’s good for you, Greyjoy.”

“Assault!  Assault upon my person!  Early in the morning…”

“It’s near on six bells,” Pyp grumbled.

“Drug me from the arms of the only woman who will ever love me…”

“Oh, yes.  The knocking shop girl was clearly head over heels for you.  What was ‘er name again?” Edd asked.

“Don’t recall at the moment but it was true love!  Anyway, I have been attacked!  And me your ally, too, Crow!  I’ll…”

“Jon, that wasn’t kind,” Sansa chided gently, hoping to sooth any ruffled feather of crow and peacock alike.

But Jon stubbornly showed zero remorse as Theon carried on with his list of injustices. 

Her own lips were twitching but she picked up Theon’s hat, batting her eyes at him sweetly (which had Jon looking less than pleased) and said, “Forgive me for I believe it was only at my insistence that led Jon to pull you away from your fair maiden this day, ser.”

“Maiden?” he snickered, accepting his hat.

“But I had hoped you might marry us as you’d said you would.  It would mean ever so much to me.  However, if you’re indisposed, I suppose we can pay a call at the sept or…”

“No, no, madam!  I said I would marry you and I shall!  You’ll know you’ve been married properly, too.”  But he ducked his chin, giving her a look reminiscent of a boy who’d been denied cakes at a feast.  “But I’ll have you know that this one-“ He gave Jon a shove.  “-stole my bottle of rum.”

“Oh Jon,” she scolded for Theon’s benefit.  “I’m sure he’ll give it back later, captain.” 

“I didn’t steal your rum but, aye, I took it from you because you’re already three sheets to the wind and you’ve a ship to ready for sea even if you’re not officiating a wedding.”  Jon turned to her with an imploring look.  “Do you really want a drunken fool marrying us, lass?  I won’t have you offended on the deck of my ship nor allow him to make a mockery of things,” Jon finished with a growl before turning back.  He and Theon stood face-to-face, Jon growing increasingly ill-tempered and Theon’s smirk turning even more saucy. 

“If it’s this drunken fool, I do though I hope you will show the proper gravity and respect for our ceremony, Captain Greyjoy.  I’ve dreamt of my wedding day since I was a small girl and I want it to be memorable in a favorable fashion.  Marriage is a holy estate not to be entered into lightly or without reflection and I’m sure the same must be said of the one administering the rights.  And of course, it means a great deal to me having my beloved’s rescuer being part of it with us.”

Theon’s libidinous grin dried up as he placed his feathered hat back on his head.  “It will be my honor, madam.  Shall we head to the Bitch for the ceremony?”

“No, on the Crow.  You’re marrying us on my ship.”

“But I’m not the captain of your ship.”

“You’re a captain.  Tis good enough.  Right, Sansa?”

She nodded happily.  “It is.”

Theon shrugged and agreed before turning towards the door.  He ran smack into the door jam but they soon got him on his feet again as the septet made their way to the harbor.

So close to the sea with autumn breathing down their necks, there were no flowers for a bouquet but Sansa did not seem to miss them.  Jon resolved that he’d bring his lady flowers someday though.  A whole bouquet of hibiscus if she should like them. 

That would be for another day. 

Today, despite the steely grey of the sky and the looming parting, he was smiling as he formed part of three couples standing on the deck of the Crow with Theon repeating the solemn words he seemed to know by rote.  Well, it helped that Davos was by his side and could prompt him with his next line when needed.  Regardless, Theon looked considerably less disreputable than he had earlier when Jon had finally found him in the fifth brothel he, Pyp and Edd had tried. 

Off to the side stood Benjen with a proud look on his face where earlier there had been more than a hint of impatience over the delay.  They’d still be sailing before the tide ran out and Sansa along with Jeyne and Shae would be heading home within the next two hours with the thirty picked men their uncle had rounded up to see her safely there. 

He would worry over her while they were apart but he knew Benjen was right.  She would not be safe in a harbor town indefinitely until the Lannisters were forced to yield or destroyed.  Inland though at Winterfell, she would hopefully be free from any plotting to claim the queen’s reward with her head.

All around Jon’s shipmates looked on with grins, some bemused (they carried more than one hardened  old bachelor) and some a twinge envious (like Halder who might want a wife of his own once war was done) but all benevolent.  He seemed to be rid of his bad apples, thank the gods, a very welcome state for a ship heading towards a blockade and most certainly into action at some point.

Well, most of the bad apples.

“Snow!  Lass!  Snow!” the cry came from high above when Theon pronounced each couple man and wife. 

No, he didn’t really consider the raven a bad apple.  Sansa loved the silly thing and he supposed he couldn’t feed him to Ghost that being the case. (And no, he would never do it anyway because he loved the silly thing, too.)

He reached for his bride to seal their newly formed union with a kiss.  Much as he might like more than that, he had a ship to ready for sailing, a ship he’d been absent from for more than a month.

He cupped her cheeks, grinning like a fool in the face of her beatific smile, savoring the moment for a few precious seconds before pressing his lips to hers. 

“Go on and kiss ‘er, Snow, or one of us will!” a tremendous voice bellowed out across the water through a speaking trumpet.

“I would happily kiss my bride if Giantsbane would mind it’s bloody business!” he hollered back, causing Tormund to howl with laughter and Sansa to tut at him.

“No shouting at guests of our wedding, Jon Snow, and that’s enough talking, isn’t it?” she asked with a teasing lilt in her tone.

"Aye-aye, captain," he said with a nod before passionately kissing his bride.

The thundering roaring cheers of his shipmates drowning out all other harbor noises for a time made his heart swell and he could see equal pleasure in Sansa's expression when she gave them all a cheerful wave.

A half hour later, with a few toasts made and congratulations passed around (though Edd and Shae had disappeared in the midst of it all), Benjen came over to them both at last, clapping a hand on Jon’s shoulder while looping the other arm around Sansa.

“Time and tide, lad.  We must sail.”

“I know,” he gulped, his heart already aching at the thought of not seeing her for many days.

Sansa was scowling at Benjen for the interruption but, when he turned to her, her eyes grew misty the next moment.  “Thank you for letting us have this time before sailing, Uncle,” she murmured, embracing him.

"I wish it could be longer and I hope our war will not last into winter.  I'm glad you both found each other.  Heartily glad of you escaping Kings Landing, too, Sansa, after...well, everything there."  He gave her a swift kiss on the forehead.  "Give your mother my very best."

"I will.  Come home to us when Jon returns if you can for a visit."

Then, Benjen departed again to give them a final moment alone by the taffrail.

He swallowed hard, knowing there were things he wished to say but not wishing to grow weepy on deck in front of his men.  Alone later perhaps the raven would witness his sorrow but not now.  A shaky breath and he managed to say what was in his heart without faltering.  “I love you.  You’ll be my strength and in my every breath, lass.”

She cupped his face, her small hands holding him firmly, compelling him to look her in the eye when she told him fervently, “I'll be waiting for you so you come back, do you hear?  I don’t care what you must do to manage it but come back to me. Do you hear me, husband?”

He would've grinned at her naming him husband if she wasn't so near heartbreak and looking at him so beseechingly.  “I do.  I will.  I promise.”

“Don’t promise me.  Say it.”

“I’ll come back to you, Sansa.  I’ll come to Winterfell and then sweep you away with me to the Drowned Isle whenever you may wish to go.”

Neither were foolish enough to believe that the worst couldn’t happen but they could say the words and hope, couldn’t they? 

She blinked rapidly but didn’t cry.  He supposed Jeyne and Shae might witness her sorrow later or her mother in Winterfell would.  She would not cry now though and he silently thanked her for it.  It was hard enough to bear this business of saying farewell yet again without her tears to utterly unman him.

“I love you, Jon.  You’ll sail me to our lagoon someday.”

“I will.”  He leaned forward to whisper in her ear.  “I’ll make love to you in its waters and some devilish monkey will steal our clothes.  We’ll be forced to walk back to the ship nude, I’m afraid, unless Kojja Mo takes pity on us.  Will I look fetching in some of her bits and bobs, do you think?” 

She laughed heartily at his whimsy which was exactly what he wanted.  He couldn’t wait to hear that sound again. 

“I love you,” he said once more, straightening as the ships’ bells surrounding them all chimed half past noon, practically in time together.  Those were followed by the lubberly septs’ bells ashore chiming all out of order like a passel of old men who could not agree on so much as the color of an orange, let alone the time of day. 

"And, I, you."

With those final words, their privacy came to an end.  People were moving about near them and it was time to go. 

The ladies were bundled over the side.  Jeyne was already weeping before they made it to shore.  Jon had pulled out his telescope to watch them as the Crow was plucking up her anchor preparing to sail.  The trio stood on the wharf with Sansa in the middle.  All three were waving white handkerchiefs in farewell with a host of men at their back eager to see them off.

“Take her to sea, Mr. Seaworth,” Jon told Davos as the sails were sheeted home. 

His eye never left them, even when they were no more than pinpricks on shore and he began to feel the steady chop of the bay beneath his feet.

When they were out of sight, he closed his telescope and climbed to the tops to admire the armada he’d helped gather sailing off to war.  He joined Pyp who was drying his eyes. 

"The sun," Pyp said, motioning to the sky to explain away his tears.

Jon only nodded and smiled.  The sun had indeed broke through the clouds.  Fair weather to see them on their voyage.  To war, yes. 

But then, he'd go home to his lass.  He'd promised her, hadn't he?   

Chapter Text

The journey from White Harbor to Winterfell took twice as long as expected. It seemed like no sooner than Jon’s topsails had disappeared from view Sansa had taken poorly. She tried not to let it worry her though for she was going home at last. Surely, Mother and Maester Luwin would set her to rights. As much as she missed her husband, she was hungry for home and family. It had been nearly three years since she’d seen them.

The men her uncle had chosen as their escorts were kind and did their best to conceal their impatience at how often the lady needed to rest during their journey…or empty her stomach in an obliging bush. Shae had shot daggers at them all to be sure none said a peep as Sansa started counting up days and wondering if her ailment was not truly an ailment at all.

When she first spied the castle though, no queasiness could keep her from spurring her horse faster to reach it.

The scene that followed had been an emotional one; her mother dressed in black, older, sadder but still her dear mother. They’d clung to each other tightly. And then Arya and the boys who had shot up so much. She clung to them all, a rapid tide of affections and regrets passing to and fro.

"Sansa, what are you wearing, my dear?" her mother had asked, noticing the light-weight silk gown under her cloak.  "You'll freeze to death."

"I'm alright, Mother.  The cloak is warm."  And this is the dress he bought me.  

“Did you really kill him, Sansa?” Arya asked in a hushed tone.

“I did what I had to…so yes.”

The lingering tightness in her chest over the betrothal, some of her father’s past decisions and the horrible things which had happened and the ones which could have all began to fade with the knowledge that she had survived it and she was home again.

Jeyne slipped off to see her aunt and other friends who lived in the castle but Shae stood off to the side with the men who had brought them, alone and unsure. Sansa could not have that.

“Mother, this is Shae.”

Shae made the best curtsy she could. “Milady.”

Her mother looked at her curiously though with a polite smile. She would have to understand. “Shae is my dear friend and she will be coming to live with us at least until our husbands return from the war.”

“Well then, you are welcome here, Shae, and…Sansa…did you say husbands?!”

Sansa smiled at her astonished family whilst looping an arm around Shae’s waist. “Oh, Mother…there is ever so much to tell you.”

A fortnight later, the three young women had been properly acclimated to Winterfell, Sansa and Jeyne as though they hadn’t left and Shae as though she was always meant to be here.  

But it was not the Winterfell of Sansa’s youth either no more than she was little girl who had left dreaming of golden princes and the South.  A castle in mourning. Her father, Vayon Poole and several of the guardsmen lost. A people worried and waiting. Robb and most of the older boys and men in their prime off to fight. A castle full of women with the maester, little boys and a guard of greybeards were all that remained.

All the same, Sansa trod the familiar paths of her girlhood, sang the songs she knew by heart to keep everyone’s spirits up, baked and sewed and said her prayers for their men and for her man in particular. She gave her mother comfort and found her own in her little brothers and sister with the two additional sisters of her heart becoming part of the family.  Shae and Arya got on especially well.  Sansa tried not to feel any jealousy over it considering she'd once struggled to make heads or tails of her little sister. 

"I can understand killing Joffrey and being forced to flee but I still can't believe you married a pirate, Sansa."

"But I love him.  He's terribly easy to love, you'll see.  And he's not a pirate anymore.  He's a privateer now."

"A nicety of words."

"There's a difference as the maester could tell you."  Arya opened her mouth to debate but Sansa pushed ahead.  "Jon said that Shae would make a good pirate.  I think you would as well."

"Me?  A pirate?" 

"I'll admit for my own part that there is something thrilling about standing on the deck of a ship and viewing the never-ending horizon.  The Drowned Isle though was my favorite part.  I want to go back there some day."

"The Drowned Isle?  It's real?"

"Very real.  Would you like to see it?" she asked slyly, knowing perfectly well Arya would. 

Her sister grinned with glee and nodded rapidly.

And so, Sansa fell easily back into life with her family though she ached for her husband.  Word of the war was scarce though once a letter reached her from him.

Lass,

Just a few words for you today and these in pencil.  The fisherman I'm sending this via is eager to be away.  Edd is stalling him haggling over the price of fish so I may write.  Tell Shae and Jeyne their husbands are well along with all your old shipmates.  Your own husband misses you with every breath.  Blockade is very dreary and storms in the Narrow Sea mean little post has reached us but I pray you are well and safe in Winterfell now.  

 My heart is yours always.  All my love,

 -Jon

P.S.  The raven would say hello if he could ever learn the word.  Instead he says 'red' and 'lass' a good deal to torment me.  

Sansa kept his letter near her all the time, usually on her person if she could.  His words brought her comfort just as the wolf pendant did but these things were poor substitutes for his kisses and his arms. 

Perhaps my own arms will be full before long though.

When three moons had passed since the night Sansa had gone to Jon’s makeshift cabin aboard the Crow and shared his hammock with him and over three moons since she'd last bled, Sansa started sewing something new.

“Such a tiny little gown,” her mother remarked, complimenting her neat stitches.

“A tiny gown for a tiny person. Jon will be so proud.”

Her mother kissed her cheek and agreed.  She’d taken all of the news in her usual stride which Sansa had expected. Catelyn Stark was a practical, sensible woman who loved her family fiercely. Her daughter had fled a marriage and married a former pirate who happened to be her bastard cousin. They’d been married by a pirate aboard a ship and, gods’ willing, she would bear him a son or daughter in the new year.

“Family comes first,” her mother said. “Your father always did his best to protect us. He loved his sister very much. I feared for his health after her death…her true death.”

“He never told you the whole of it though? Of Jon?” Sansa scowled, displeased by that.

“No. He’d said Lyanna would not be Robert’s bride and that she preferred faking her death to wondering if he might potentially send men after her as if she were a goat that had been stolen from him. The lying ate at your father terribly though and now I know where part of his guilt laid. Thank the gods for Benjen and his wife.”

“Yes.” Sansa did not think her father would’ve let Jon be abandoned to an indifferent upbringing at an orphanage with his mother’s passing but it was still very well that he had already been very much beloved by his uncle and aunt at Eastwatch and living with them.

“Sansa, your father carried many burdens as a lord and as a man. He was not perfect but he was my sweet Ned and I loved him. He loved all of us.” There was little argument Sansa could make to that and her mother continued, “And Jon is much beloved by you, I can tell. He is good to you, I know. I can hear it in your voice when you speak of him, I know it by the risks and sacrifices he made to rescue you. I’m so glad you’re safe. Even with all you suffered, I’ll say Fate was very kind the day The Black Crow captured your galley. You would’ve never met otherwise and might not have wound up a runaway bride with her privateer. It’s a bit like a story in a book, isn’t it?”

Sansa smiled.  Mother and daughter had their differences but they could be of the same mind as well.  “Yes, Mother. That's exactly how I like to think of it except it's not a story, it's true.”

Days of sailing, weeks of blockade.  Weeks of drilling men at sails and gunnery as if they were in the bloody navy.  

A month of waiting and wondering what was happening ashore in Robb Stark’s war and what was happening in Winterfell far to the North.  No word, none at all would reach him here at sea, he feared. 

Had she made it home?  How did she fare?  Did she know how he pined for her in the bitter, silent watches of the night?

Six weeks and then eight.  Jon grew as dour as Edd Tollett from the waiting.  Strangely, Edd seemed more chipper than usual. 

“Which at least we’re not getting’ hammered again so soon after our last bout.  Do you think Shae would like livin’ in White Harbor, Jon?  I was speakin’ to a fella from there who…” 

Ten weeks and too much.  Things ashore took too damned long to occur.

But then, when Jon Snow had been a married man all of three months with only hours with his bride to his name, word arrived at last.  Not word from Sansa but from her brother. 

Tywin Lannister’s army had been outfoxed in the field, the Young Wolf turned out more cunning (and luckier) than the Old Lion.  His son and heir in chains and a parley had been promised. 

Except the Old Lion had another treachery up his sleeve.  The parley turned false and had led to another battle, a very bloody one in the Riverlands where Tywin Lannister had learnt that the ‘boy king’ had friends there, some of whom recalled his pretty and charming little sister who had nursed her grandfather, their beloved Old Tully, back to health when the old man had seemed closer to Death’s door.

Rumors swirled that some men called upon wolves in their battle cries, the Old Wolf, the Young Wolf, the White Wolf and the Red Wolf.  What stories they had told each other of those persons, Jon did not know.  But so many wolves had wound up too much for the lions.  Two golden heads snicked off and Robb’s ragged but victorious army had marched towards Kings Landing where the queen now mourned a son, her father and her twin brother. 

Trapped by an armada by sea, facing an approaching army by land, Cersei grew desperate to secure what power remained to her.  She sent her daughter, the Princess Myrcella, off in a Braavosi galley in a fog along with an advisor with intentions of treating with the Iron Bank to get the now bankrupt crown a loan and sellswords and sellsails for her cause. 

Instead, the girl’s ship was captured by a northern privateer whose lookout had the sharpest eyes in the fleet.    

The princess was a pretty girl though clearly terrified, reminding him faintly of the day he’d captured Sansa who had promptly captured his heart.  But this girl was not his lass.  And telling her that it was his wife who had killed her elder brother probably wouldn’t put her heart at ease. 

“Your highness,” Jon said politely when the girl was brought to his cabin.  “I’ll have some food sent for you here while we arrange suitable quarters for you but you need not fear for your safety aboard the Crow.” 

"Crow!  Snow!  Corn!"

After that blow, Cersei had seen her chances of victory slipping away.  She ordered her fleet of ships, including the few hundred that Euron Crow's Eye had brought her (not the thousand promised), to set sail and fight.  Win or die was her own rallying cry. She had little understanding of any other way. 

And fight they did.

The thundering of guns would echo in Jon’s head for many days as the heady smell of gunpowder filled his nostrils as often as the salt sea.  Splinters and wounds, indifferent sleep between skirmishes and always danger on the horizon.  It wasn't dreary like the blockade at least.  

When Jon had returned from the dead, or what they’d all assumed was the dead, in White Harbor, the raven had swooped aboard the ship cawing out ‘Crow!  Snow!’ like some feathered harbinger of the Stranger. 

Now, those aboard called the raven Nemesis, for when he would caw ‘Fight!  Fight!,’ the men aboard the Crow would do just that and win. 

It took three privateers to defeat Fury.  It cost them two to defeat Silence but she was blown to bits in the thick of battle on the third day by two other Greyjoys.  Jon could not even stop to rejoice as he drew his blade to board and capture another king’s ship.  When the fighting at sea was done, the Blackwater was truly black with smoke and burnt ships but plenty were still fit to sail. 

Word reached them of victory by land and a small party led by Benjen Stark and Jon Snow stepped ashore for the first time in months.  Jon was to meet his cousin and his king with a princess and Prince Kraken in tow.

“I’m sorry about Sea Bitch, Theon.”  

“We’ll make and mend. She’ll sail another day.” 

His ship had suffered much.  At present, the pumps were turning day and night to keep her afloat.  Jon had offered all the Crow’s resources to aid his friend as best as they could though they had their own repairs to see to.  He had been fortunate not to lose any of his crew at least.    

Mindful of the princess at his side, Jon kept his remarks few after that.  Myrcella had lost her mother after the castle had been breached.  Some say she'd taken her own life.  Jon did not know for sure and wasn't sure he wanted to.  He was only glad she could no longer call for his wife's head.  Myrcella's young brother, the defeated boy king, was a captive as was she but, unlike what Joffrey had done to his father, Robb Stark would not kill either one of them.

Jon could see the relation to Sansa when he looked at Robb for the first time.  He had darker red hair but the same blue eyes.  He looked more Tully than Stark but he was certainly a Stark in more than just name from all that Jon had heard of him.  Jon also noticed the way those blue eyes brightened when they landed on Myrcella.  The captured and the captivated perhaps.  

“Robb, this is your cousin, Jon Snow…your Aunt Lyanna’s boy,” Benjen said, making the introduction. 

A little awkwardness but more friendliness followed and Jon did not feel looked down upon in the slightest.  Robb even named him a most pleasant surprise, saying it was a great pity they could not have grown up knowing one another.

A pity, yes, he thought with only a touch of bitterness. 

And yet, Jon would not resent it overall.  He might never had gone to sea had he grown up closer to Winterfell under his Uncle Eddard's influence rather than Benjen's.  He might’ve only ever saw Sansa as his kin or she might've felt that way.  And he never would’ve dared raise his eyes to her or his hopes for her with their positions as they would’ve stood then.   

“So, that’s the mighty Young Wolf, your king.  Lucky he wasn’t the one who came upon you deflowering his sister in a tropical lagoon,” Theon whispered tauntingly in his ear.

“I didn’t deflower her in the lagoon!  And keep your mouth shut, Greyjoy,” Jon snarled under his breath.

Thankfully, Robb Stark was too busy giving Myrcella his condolences and wishing that things had never turned so violent between their families.  Her uncle, the Imp, was by his side and Jon had already heard that were peace talks underway between the Starks, the Imp and Kevan Lannister.  He had a hard time picturing a lasting peace between North and South but they all could hope.  Just give us our freedom to live our lives and govern our people as we see fit.  

A new order would be decided in the coming days here in Kings Landing, everyone said.  Jon supposed he’d have little to do with all that. 

He was mistaken.

“Why does he want me there?” he asked Benjen. 

“You're part of the family, Jon, and I have no interest in playing a very active role forever in these things.  Lyessa has been patient enough with this old pirate.”

“But I have a wife and I want…”

“Let’s see what your king wants from you, eh?  For now, go and sit in on his meetings and negotiations.  Be a voice for those who are voiceless.”

Benjen was right of course.  Tormund and his wildlings had been mistreated in the past.  Theon and the Iron Islanders had been enemies before making the alliance, the alliance Jon had played a strong role in fostering.  If the North wanted to be strong and independent, it needed people who would work together. 

“What will you do now?” Robb asked him after two weeks of endless councils. 

“Go home to your sister as quick as a I can.”

“Yes, but after that?  What career will you pursue?  The letters of marque will expire with this peace.  I will need a council…”

“I…I’m not sure sitting on a king’s council is something I’m suited for, Your Grace.” 

He had not thought on it too hard.  The war was over and his occupation as a privateer was at an end with it.  He could return to piracy but…well, there was little honor in that and much danger. Sansa deserved a husband she could be proud of and one who would not forever be roaming the far-flung seas.

“I’ll buy the Crow off you,” Theon murmured in his ear as if the dog had been reading his thoughts and was already two steps ahead of him.

“No, you fucking won’t,” he growled. 

Whatever her future, he wasn’t selling the Crow.  She was his ship and he wouldn’t just let her go.  And I promised I’d take Sansa back to our lagoon someday.  How the bloody hell are we supposed to get there without a ship?

Robb Stark spoke again.  “The North will always need a navy, Jon, and that navy will need experienced sailors to lead it.”

“I’m not…I’m a…”

“A seaman and a damn fine one from everything I’ve heard and seen.  You wouldn’t have to be at sea all the time or anything like it.  Just enough to keep you in practice and to drill my captains and ships.  I’d make you a commodore and…”

Theon piped up.  “A commodore?  Oh, I like the sound of that.  Fancy sounding.  Do you need more than one?  Does it come with a hat?”

“Theon,” Asha scoffed from his side.  “We just secured independence for the Iron Islands and you’re thinking of joining the navy?!”

“Why not?  Who’s going to be in charge in the Iron Islands?  Me?”

“No, you fool.  I am!”

Theon turned back to Robb.  “So you see, Your Grace, I’ve always thought I’d make a good commodore…”

That night, Jon was aboard his ship and she was heading home at last.  They would sail to White Harbor and from there Jon, Pyp and Edd would go to Winterfell.  Fiddle and drum were heard on deck along with the click of dice and laughter.  Davos told tales and drank some of the Red Keep's extensive store of wines with the grizzled old hands while the younger ones danced and sang.  

Jon sat in the tops with his raven perched on his shoulder, his gaze fixed on the brightest star to the North.  It could not surpass her beauty but it would guide him home to her. 

And when the chorus came 'round again, he pictured Sansa singing at his table many moons ago and sang along with those below (mostly to appease the bird of course);

"Long we’ve tossed on the rolling main, now we’re safe ashore, Jack.

Don’t forget yer old shipmates, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!”

Fresh snow had fallen overnight and she smiled to see it.  It was hardly the first snowfall of winter which was well underway but it was the first since she’d received a letter from Jon a fortnight ago stating he was coming to her at last with Robb to follow before long. 

The North had its independence and Sansa, Jeyne and Shae would be getting their husbands back soon.  As for the day of their arrival, it was hard to say.  The winds at sea could be indifferent.  The journey up the White Knife might be difficult.  Wagons moved slower on the soggy, deeply rutted winter roads.  Everyday, Sansa rose wondering if this would be the magical day.  Of course, every night so far, she'd gone to bed disappointed.  But fresh snow...

She'd been forced to give up her blue silk for warm wool of late and she dressed warmly for her day.  The beautiful cloak she’d got from Kojja Mo’s shop though served equally well for chillier seas and snowbound landscapes.  Sansa broke her fast with her family and then decided to pay the godswood a visit.  She’d been there often of late, a renewed piety of sorts seeking comfort from the old gods as she reacquainted herself with all the ways of the North she'd missed, waited for Jon’s return and anticipated the birth of their child in a few more moons. 

She had written him, of course, but she had little faith that her letters would have reached him.  She’d made copies of them, intent on sharing her thoughts with him one way or another.  

In the godswood, it was quiet and the snow not so thick upon the ground.  It seemed like all the sounds of the surrounding castle were muffled here, a pure world that was hers alone this morning. 

The hot springs bubbled up, its steam melting the snow upon its bank.  Her back ached some.  What a delight it would be to soak in the hot water, completely immersed in a way her copper bath could not accommodate her swelling form.  She thought of her last dip like this in a far different setting with her friends and the cheeky monkeys who had stolen her shift and dress, of Jon bursting through the palm fronds to find her naked, the fire that had burned between them on that tropical night and Jon's hilarious antics trying to recover her clothing afterwards. 

Grinning with some mischievous desire to do something that no one, barring Jeyne and Shae, would expect of her here, Sansa tugged off her cloak and gown, hanging them from a low branch, and sat her boots upon the stone where her father would often sit.

She squealed as her bare toes sank into the snow before making her gangly way into the pool of water.  She sighed, letting the warmth ease her aches and relishing the weightlessness.  Her swelling tummy, itchy from where the skin was starting to stretch, was no matter here.  

"Six maids there were in a spring-fed pool..." she sang softly as she floated and allowed her mind to drift, looking forward to Jon’s first visit to Winterfell. 

She would show him this place and the glass gardens.  Her mother would order a feast and he’d meet his other cousins.  They’d spend the night making love in her bed.  She’d take him into the Wintertown and…

“And here I thought I’d left the sea behind but a siren still awaits me, it seems,” an amused and beloved voice said from behind her.

She yelped and crossed her arms over her breasts lest Pyp and Edd were with him.  “You’re here!”  And most gratefully, alone.  

“I’m here,” he said, grinning as he took note of her hanging gown and cloak.  He wore his usual attire but a heavier fur cloak over all along with his captain's hat.  “Tell me that water is as hot as it looks.”  He was already tugging off his cloak.  

“I am quite comfortable.  Shall I join you ashore, captain, or will you take a dip with me?”

“A dip with my siren in her pool?  Oh, that would be most welcome.”

She let her hands drop from her breasts then and watched Jon’s eyes darken.  They were fuller than before and she wondered if he would notice it. 

Piece by piece, her husband shed his clothes until he was as naked as his name day.  The view was pleasing no matter which way he was turned.  He made a great splash jumping in, causing hot water to go pelting through the snow on shore and she laughed, her heart soaring with joy.  He was home and this was not a dream.  

“I’ve miss you, lass,” he said as he waded through the water towards her.

Her face grew hotter than it already was.  Her belly was still covered by the murky waters.  “I've missed you so.  I wanted to welcome you to Winterfell properly though.  I had not planned...”

“Aye, you could not have planned it better for I feel very welcomed.”

“I had meant in the courtyard or great hall though where you might meet my mother and…”

“I will meet them all soon and look forward to it but Shae said you’d snuck off here a little while ago and I asked them if I might find you on my own.  Would you prefer otherwise?”

“No, not at all.  You've waited this many years to meet your aunt and cousins.  They can wait a bit longer.  But will they come looking for us?”

“They'd better not.  If they do, they’ll get a great shock.”

She giggled at the way he waggled his eyebrows.  “Jon…” she said when he was nearly to her.  Even in the murky waters, it would be noticeable soon.  “Did you receive any of my letters?”

“Not a single one,” he pouted.  “The bloody postman owes me much.”

“Well, in that case, I have a surprise for you, my love.”

“Do you?” he asked, stopping just before her.

She took one playful step back, a ducked down in the water to where her breasts bobbed just in sight.  “True or false.  You have to make a guess and I will answer.”

He licked his lips.  “You want me to kiss you.”

“True,” she sighed.

He raised a hand to cup her cheek.  Oh, how she’d missed his touch.

“You want me to make love to you here.”

“True,” she said, quivering with desire at the very thought. 

His eyes flickered down to her breasts.  He was smirking but then the smirk turns a little confused.  “Your breasts seem…”

“True.”  She knew he was observant. 

“Sansa?” he gasped, his eyes widening as she took a step forward now and let her belly touch his beneath the water.

“True.”

Amazed and delighted, he wrapped her up in his arms and spun them around, giving an exuberant shout.  “I love you!  I love you!”

“And I love you,” she said, near sobbing in her joy. 

He carefully set her back down, gently let his hand trace her swollen belly.  His eyes filled with tears.  “You make me so very happy, lass.”

If she did, she could only say he made her equally so. 

Jon pulled her close once more, his lips inching towards hers. 

“We’re not leaving this pool for a good while yet, captain,” she told him.

“True,” he agreed at once.

And no, they did not. 

Chapter Text

Four Years Later

“At winter’s end though, you’ll return?” Catelyn Stark asked again.

“Yes, Mother. If ever the seas and winds allow, we will bring you back some pretty shells and a fine silk dress in the spring.”

“But my little darlings will grow so much and…oh, Sansa!”

Feeling somewhat like a coward (and maybe he was in this instance), Jon crossed the gangplank to board his ship and avoid the renewal of his mother-in-law’s tears.

They had invited her of course but Catelyn’s duties on the king’s council kept her busy…along with her other grandchildren, Robb’s twin daughters, the little princesses of the North.

“Jon! Look at us!”

He tilted back his head to see them, two Stark boys high above in the tops. “What the devil are you doing up there?!” he demanded, hoping Aunt Cat would not spot them. “Get down here directly this minute!”

Nimble as cats, the pair of them climbed down grinning even as they attempted to hide those grins from their captain.

“It was Bran who climbed first and taunted me to follow,” Rickon reported petulantly upon seeing they were in trouble.

Bran gasped at his brother’s betrayal as Jon took them both by the shoulders. “And it will be me who sends you to the masthead for punishment if you don’t obey my orders aboard,” he snarled, earning looks of remorse from them. He lowered his voice and added, “Remember what I said, no climbing to the tops until I see you’ve got your sea legs…and never when your mother is still in sight.”

“Aye, cap’n,” the pair of them chanted before hurrying along forward.

“It’ll be a long voyage with them squeakers up to mischief maybe,” Pyp said from his side.

“Maybe so.”

“We’re likely being punished for our own mischief back when.”

“Well, there may be truth in that but it ain’t a bloody nursery.”

A plaintive squall from below mocked Jon’s words though and Pyp dashed off to see if his wife needed a hand with their little girl. Bran and Rickon may be serving aboard the ship as volunteers but there was definitely an element of a nursery aboard.

“Daddy?” a dear little voice said from beside him next. “Grandmother was crying and now Mummy’s crying, too.”

Jon swallowed a sigh and lifted his son into his arms. “Aye, she will miss you and your sister very much, Benjen, but we’ll bring her back stories of the sea to make her smile and it’s time to unfurl our sails. Go forward and tell Satin to make ready to pluck the anchor, will you?”

The boy nodded eagerly and ran off on little legs to do so.

Offering Sansa a steadying arm, Jon aided his wife who was holding their daughter in her arms across the gangplank and bid Catelyn farewell.

“Wave to your gran, Lya, my love,” Jon told his daughter, kissing her auburn curls as her chubby little fist swung about, resembling a wave.

Catelyn’s three youngest children stood at the rail as well, waving their goodbyes, Arya mad with excitement to take this voyage at last. Guards were waiting to escort the King in the North’s mother and highly respected advisor back home.

Progress had been slow but steady and the relations between North and South had remained peaceful thus far, particularly since Robb and Myrcella’s wedding two years ago. In the North, there was more peace and prosperity than it had known in a long while for everyone.

Jon had accepted the role of commodore for the North’s navy for the last four years.  He had overseen the building of ships and the sailing of them from here in White Harbor much of the time where he and Sansa had built a home.  But his service had come to an end.  From now on, when Jon Snow sailed a ship anywhere, he would sail it where it pleased him and his family.  

The journey to Winterfell was no great distance from White Harbor and they visited there often, particularly in winter when there was little activity for the peacetime fleet. And Jon and Sansa were sure to visit the hot springs of the godswood whenever they could.

Edd and Shae and Jeyne and Pyp had built houses of their own within walking distance of theirs. Sansa had confessed to him a dear wish she’d held close to her heart regarding living near her friends always and Jon liked seeing Sansa’s wishes come true.

And at long last, he was in a position to fulfill another one of those.

Winter was coming again but this winter Jon and his family would not feel its bite.

“All ready, Mr. Tollett?”

“Aye, cap’n,” his first mate and friend replied.

Dear Davos, like Benjen, had decided to retire after the war and was comfortably snug in White Harbor with his wife and their first grandson which their son had named Mathos after his departed brother.

Meanwhile, Jon and Edd stood at the wheel gazing hungrily at the sea as the Crow crested her first wave.

In the tops, the raven squawked out for corn, making the children laugh. They were too little to know what a bloody nuisance the bird was. Ghost, however, lifted his head from his paws and ruffed once at it to silence the old croaker.  You listen to him but not me, eh?

After Sansa’s confinement and young Benjen’s birth, they’d journeyed to Eastwatch to introduce their son to his namesake and great-uncle and so Sansa might meet Lyessa. The women had got along splendidly and Sansa had fallen in love with Ghost at once. Benjen and Lyessa had later journeyed to Winterfell after the birth of Lya to visit the family but the white wolf (who was half dog) had come home with them and Sansa had said they couldn’t leave him behind for this voyage.

“It’s a long voyage for him. He’ll be awfully hot with his thick coat,” Jon had argued.

“There will be cool waters for him to play in at our destination and the children would miss him so. I will take care of him, see to it he has plenty of exercise on deck everyday just as I once took care of your raven.”

And what could he say after that but yes?

As they passed Seal Rock with Pyp, Benjen and even little Lya attempting to imitate the creatures, Sansa joined him at the wheel. “We’re going. We’re doing this at last, aren't we?”

Her eyes were shining with excitement and it made his heart swell with love all over again.  “That we are, my love.”  He offered her his telescope and asked for his orders. 

Sansa expertly held it to her right eye as the left one fluttered close.  “Bring me that horizon, captain,” she murmured with satisfaction.

“Aye-aye, captain.”

Six weeks later, they were all already old salts of the Drowned Isle with sun-kissed noses and cheeks and golden highlights in Sansa’s auburn hair.  Likely, Lya’s would be the same except they still protected her baby-soft skin with bonnets whenever she would stand for them.  Ghost seemed to take to the tropical climate well enough, rising before sunset most days to prowl around by night.  But when his family was all ashore, he would join them regardless of the time of day.  

It was a beautiful winter’s day here where one would never guess cold winds blew or snows fell anywhere at all as Sansa, Jon, their children, the dog and raven made their way through the port to pay another call on Kojja Mo.  The Summer Islander had been delighted to see them again and to meet their little ocean-eyed children and had begged them to return often which they had. 

Theon’s ship had weathered the entrance to the bay (the vulgarly named entrance) and dropped anchor whilst they slept last night though they had not seen him yet.  The pirate-turned-commodore-turned-pirate-again had left Westeros over a year ago and Jon and Sansa both were hoping to see him here as they had missed him and his enormous hats.

“If he can be lured away from The Pearl Chest, that is,” Jon grumbled.

Edd and Shae were taking their ease aboard today whilst their son joined Jeyne, Pyp and their little daughter on a picnic in one of the beach coves. 

Sansa’s brothers were exploring the caves on the far side of the island with the hands closer in age to them.  Hopefully, they were being careful and wouldn’t be getting into other varieties of trouble ashore since Jon had sat them down for a serious talk upon their arrival.  They were good boys at heart and clearly respected their cousin.    

Arya had met Brienne of Tarth, a former Southern privateer, the other day and the two of them had been discussing a potential voyage in Oathkeeper ever since.  Sansa worried what her mother would think if she returned without her younger sister but would never discourage Arya.  The girl had an explorer’s spirit and yearned to see the world.  And why shouldn’t she?  Sansa had followed her own heart and felt strongly that Arya should do the same…no matter how many marriage alliances their mother and elder brother were being approached with. 

The port was still a wild and exotic place in many ways.  There were dolphins in the bay and monkeys ashore but the people who visited here ran from friendly to dodgy and it was certainly no place to turn the children loose ashore without supervision.  All the same, it felt like a home away from home in a sense to Sansa. 

“Ye ‘ave a drop o’ salt water and a dollop o’ pirate in yer blood too, girl,” Tormund had told her the other day.  “It’s why the island suits ye and the wee ones so well.”

Sansa liked to believe he was right…even if he occasionally spoke of eating their poor raven. 

“‘Nanas!” Lya squealed with delight, spotting her new favorite treat, the bananas rolled in breading and fried up with sauce.

“Rice cakes!  Oh please!” Benjen begged them both. 

His dark grey eyes, so big and hopeful, and raven curls which he shared with his father always had Sansa picturing her husband as a boy…and usually had her conceding to his wishes.   

“We don’t wish to spoil your dinner but…”  She glanced at Jon who was already fishing some coin from his pocket and nodded to the children.      

Treats purchased, they went along their way, waving to most of the residents they passed before stopping at Kojja Mo’s shop to visit.  And perhaps find some new bits and bobs.  Sansa’s dark blue silk dress was quite worn these days but there was a pretty pale yellow one hanging in the window that she’d given more than one covetous glance.    

Passing through the door though, all thoughts of dresses flew from her mind for there was her dear friend the shopkeeper…and Theon Greyjoy kissing her.

“Theon!” Jon yelped, as surprised as she was. 

Though blushing like a boy, Theon tried to play off their discovery as no great surprise.  “I’ve sailed here twice the past two years to see Ko and we…” 

He glanced at Kojja Mo who was smiling brightly.  She still had a hand threaded through his dark hair as she finished for him.  “I wanted some pretty feathers to carry for my shop and found a pretty peacock to provide them for me.  Not all peacocks are polygynous forever, you know,” the lady said with amusement.  “But come, my bright little ocean eyes are here.  What treats do you have?  And what pretties may I find for you?”

Benjen scowled since he did not expect to find any pretties to his liking at all in a ladies’ shop.  He was surprised to find a gold-coated shark’s tooth though which he instantly declared would be his lucky charm if his father would but buy it for him (which of course Jon did.)

Lya, only two, was already enraptured and chattered happily while touching everything made of satin and lace she could reach (yes, they’d had to wipe off her banana-sticky fingers quickly) as her mother disappeared to try on a certain dress.  

Once the sun had set, Theon and Kojja Mo offered to take the children to Heddle’s for honeycakes with Ghost, their self-appointed guardian, following in their wake and said they'd be happy to see them safely back aboard the Crow where Sansa knew Shae or Jeyne would see to them for the night. 

So, Jon and Sansa turned towards their lagoon for a little time alone.  Leaving their boots behind, the cool twilit sand was soft between their toes as they walked along, hand in hand.

“I love you,” Jon said at one point, placing a kiss upon her knuckles. 

She sighed and leaned into him, relishing this moment.  The rest of their walk was silent even though she could hear the flapping of the raven's wings occasionally as he flew along their path.

The roar of the waterfall had her own blood roaring once they made it there.  Here in the still night with the palm fronds all around, they were alone with little fear of being discovered. This was something she had yearned for since they'd arrived, since well before that even.  

“Shall we compare these waters to the hot springs of Winterfell, husband?” she asked, already slipping out of her new pale yellow dress. 

"Aye, lass," he said, quickly shedding his own clothes and leading her to the water. 

Kisses and caresses, Jon's fingers and mouth making her cry out until the nocturnal birds answered.  Love making in the clean, warm waters of the lagoon.  Eyes on each other, hands clasped and two hearts that beat as one.  It was everything she’d dreamt of since first she’d laid eyes upon the place, everything she knew this man she loved with all her heart could give her.   

But luck and misfortune tend to balance each other out quite often and Sansa's pretty new dress and Jon’s hat caught the eyes of some of the island’s most devilish inhabitants while they were busy below.

“Give those back, you little demons!” Jon roared as the troop of fiendish monkeys scaled the tallest palm with their prizes.

"Arse!  Thief!" the raven cried in support of his captain but, though he had wings, the monkeys paid him little mind.  

Sansa sighed to see her dress stolen, knowing the silk would not fare well from such brutal treatment.  ‘Tis only a dress…and there was a lovely emerald green one in the shop as well.   

“Let us try and recover them tomorrow, my love. Perhaps the monkeys will be bored of them by then.”  Jon huffed, still planning to make the climb even though he was nude.  “The children will be full of honeycakes and sleepy.  We could tuck them into their hammocks and then climb into our cot back aboard,” she added with a coquettish lilt which did the trick.  

Jon’s lips twitched even as he shot one last look of utter loathing at the largest of the monkeys who was currently wearing his captain's hat.  Surely, Theon had a spare.

“Very well, lass.  We’ll be a sight returning to town though,” he warned her.

They likely were.  Jon in his breeches alone and Sansa in his shirt and captain’s coat.  Neither of them cared as they held hands and strolled barefoot upon the sand the whole way back, singing a sea shanty to soothe the ruffled raven and please the silvery moon above.