Jon finds Sansa in the Great Hall

It didn't take long for Jon to find Sansa. She was sitting at her seat in the Great Hall, reading a letter bearing a House crest Jon could not make out. As Jon entered the Hall, Sansa looked up, somewhat startled.

"My King!" she said stiffly.

"Oh, please don't start with that," Jon bemoaned, "I'm already uncomfortable." Sansa smiled.

"It does suit you though," she said.

"Doesn't feel like it. I never had a head for the politics of it."

"Well, luckily, you have me." Sansa said, gesturing for Jon to come closer. She indicated the letter she was holding, along with a stack of others. "Every Northern House has been sending these, either proclaiming their support or begging your forgiveness for not backing you against the Boltons. It's only been two days, and we already have the support from all of the North. Those that haven't sent letters yet likely don't yet know that you are the King." Jon nodded. He understood this. But Sansa wouldn't be telling him if it was so simple.

"So what's the problem?" he asked.

"Not a problem, as such, more a matter of judgement." Sansa replied, taking a letter from the stack.

"Judgement?"

"For those who didn't support you, either by not choosing a side or by backing Ramsay instead. What do we do with those Houses who worked against you?" Jon thought he understood what Sansa meant. If he were still the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, anyone who betrayed him would be executed. You couldn't afford traitors in your house. Jon knew the cost of that all too well. However, a king who executed everyone who disagreed with him was a tyrant. And Jon knew better than anyone that the living couldn't afford to be killing each other now, not when a Greater threat was descending from the North.

"You see the issue. We cannot be too harsh on them, lest we be seen as more bloody conquerors, and yet we cannot be too lenient, lest we be seen as weak and foolish," Sansa ran her hand through her hair, "I've been trying to come up with a suitable punishment for nearly an hour now, but everything seems to be either to weak or too bloodthirsty."

"We cannot afford division amongst the Northern houses right now," Jon said, "Not when our true enemies surround us." Sansa frowned. "I'd rather look weak but compassionate than strong and cruel."

"But Jon-" Sansa began, only for him to interrupt her.

"Most of the Northern Lords have seen our strength, sister. They know I'm no summer child. A moment of compassion will not change that. You know I'm right." At his last statement, Jon swore he felt something in his head, a heat that seemed to pulse along with his words.

Sansa looked up at her half-brother.

"Of course you're right Jon." Jon was surprised. He was expecting a longer argument. He probably would have persuaded her eventually, but his sister was never one to back down from her opinions. Not so quickly. Sansa saw the confused look on his face.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Nothing. I just assumed you'd be more resistant to that idea."

"Of course not. I know you're right." Something was wrong. Sansa did not change her mind that easily. Never. It was as though some **** had compelled her, changed her thoughts...

Jon's eyes widened. Could this be it? The gift he had supposedly received? Surely this was not possible! Jon thought back to his words. He had told Sansa that she knew he was right, and suddenly, she did. What he had said, it became the truth.

No, he was overreacting. Sansa must have just changed her mind. That had to be it. It was the only rational explanation. And yet, Jon couldn't quite let go of the idea. Well, there was an easy way to test it, he supposed. But what would he say?

"Sansa," he began, not quite sure where he was going with this, "you... always agree with me about everything?" It came out more as a question than a statement, but Jon felt the same pulsing heat in his head that he had felt before.

There were a few seconds of silence, and then...

"Absolutely, Jon. You tend to be right about everything."

Jon could barely believe his ears. It had worked. His mind boggled at the implications of the power he now had. All the good he could do...

"The Night King and the White Walkers no longer exist." The words were flying out of his mouth before he even registered them properly. The pulse of heat accompanied them and... he couldn't tell. Sansa looked at him strangely.

"Of course they don't exist, Jon. You and the Night's Watch killed them all." Jon stared at Sansa. He had done what? This was impossible. He couldn't have just destroyed the army of the dead with not even a dozen words. Had he just... saved Westeros? He started to laugh. He had done it. And it was easy. Everything could be easy now. He didn't have to worry about the Northern Houses, he could just tell them that they were all loyal to him. He didn't have to worry about Lannister armies, he could banish them with a few words. Every problem he could simply talk away.

He glanced at Sansa, who was looking concerned. He must have looked quite mad, bursting into laughter like that, but he couldn't help it. Of course, Sansa would never argue with him again, as they now agreed about everything.

Just like that, Jon was no longer as giddy as he had been. What he had done to Sansa, it didn't seem right. He has essentially removed her power to make choices. She could never form her own opinion again. Could he really do that to her, just to make his own life easier? Was he the sort of man to take power away from others like that? But then again, was he not confident that his way was the right way? Had he not proven himself a good man, a dozen times over? All he had done to Sansa was made her see the truth. And clearly, the gods agreed. Otherwise he would not have been given such a gift. There must have been a reason that he was trusted with this power, above all others. He had been given a gift that raised him above all other men, into the realms of the gods themselves. Was it not then his responsibility to use that power for his own purposes? To shape the world to his liking? And if he could do that, surely he should? He could stop war, famine, disease. He could make this world a paradise, for him and everyone else. As long as they agreed with him.