Possibility

The next day Jon rose with the sun and ventured out for an early walk along the battlements of Winterfell, his gaze moving over the snowy fields that surrounded the ancient castle and wondering how many hundreds of Starks had stood in the same place as him. He shared their blood and their look, but for all that he was a Targaryen with the fire of a dragon within him. There was a conflict in his natures that caused a struggle he could not quite work out.

Eventually his wandering took him downwards to the Crypts of Winterfell, down in the ominous tunnels where his ancestral kin lay. Statues were made of them all, but the one that stood out the most was the lone carving of a young woman. Jon stood before it and regarded the piece of stone, trying to find any hint of his mother. The result was a disappointment, and in the end he just felt hollow and pained. Even if the cold stone was a perfect likeness, he wouldn’t find recognition from someone he had never known.

“It doesn’t do her justice,” Ned’s voice was full of longing as he came to stand next to his nephew. “ There are few things in this world that could capture Lyanna.”

Jon frowned at the stone. “I know so little,” he confessed, “my father rarely speaks of her.”

“It is painful for him,” Ned nodded, “we all lost something in that war....left us with wounds that haven’t completely healed. Most of my family died during that time, and I know Rhaegar lost much as well.”

Jon thought about that, eyes roaming across the faces of the long dead Starks. “What if I could help you mend that wound?” He spoke carefully, each word weighed before it left his mouth. “You lost a family, but what if it grew some?”

Ned sighed, “look, Jon, everything in the war-”

“-I want to ask you for Sansa’s hand,”

Stark recoiled, his surprise obvious. He looked at Jon differently then, no loner as a caring uncle but as a protective father. “I’m not sure where that has come from but...”he frowned, “you barely know Sansa, and as much as I like you Jon, I want my daughter to be happy.”

“I promise you I would never hurt her,” Jon replied solemnly, “It’s true that I don’t know her as well as I should like, but from what I have seen of her has inspired me. She is everything a man should hope to find in a wife, beautiful, smart and most of all she has a kind heart,” he looked at the man intently, identical eyes fixed on one another, “I know in my heart that I will never find anyone who would be a better wife and I promise you that I would do all in my power to make her happy.”

Ned still looked ****, but did seem to be swayed by the words. “I’m not...comfortable with the thought of one of my children living in King’s Landing.”

“And I’m not comfortable with the thought of living there,” Jon answered without hesitation. “I’m just a second son, the spare. My father has made it clear to me that I needn’t stay within the Capitol forever...Summerhall was rebuilt years ago and could serve as a worthy home. I could even negotiate with him to build a keep somewhere here in the North perhaps?”

That was the trick that broke his resolve, and finally the man relented. “I would be willing to give my consent,” he admitted, rubbing at his bears, “but only if Sansa feels the same way as you, and even then I would ask that the two of you stay here at Winterfell for a time so that you might properly get to know each other. Do you understand?”

Jon nodded solemnly. “Yes uncle, I promise I won’t let you or Sansa down.”

The two returned back to the castle proper after that, conversing quietly on what sort of arrangements would have to be made. Jon half listened and nodded along, but all the while he felt his body tingle with excitement. He intended to stay and enjoy all of the North’s fruits, with the ripest one warming his bed.