That he will have to play the Game of Thrones

"Look, Sansa," Jon started with a grimace. "I am aware that now I have the power to take back our home in an instant but the more I think about it, the more I am concerned with the idea."

His sister raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing, gesturing for him to continue. It didn't take him long to gather his thoughts.

"As you know, I have always tried my hardest to follow our father's example and be an honorable man," He went on. "I have ingrained those lessons deep into my being. And that's what gives me pause. There is absolutely nothing honorable in gaining access to such incredible powers, not when no one on this earth is my equal anymore, not even the Night's King. My new status unbalances things to the **** and to be honest, I am afraid that if left unchecked, I will end up becoming more corrupt than the entire nest of vipers in King's Landing."

He paused and his red-headed sister bit her bottom lip, seeing where he was coming from. She certainly didn't want Jon to stray too far from the path that turned him into the brother she knows and loves in more ways than one. And yet...

"I get it," She said diplomatically. "But...Jon, as important as it was, honor is what got our father killed while I watched," She whispered, the wind carrying the grief in her voice. "We shouldn't waste the opportunity we have been given to take back what's ours."

Jon sighed at that. "Point taken, but I didn't say I am not going to use my new powers ever again. I do recognize how useful they can be even on a smaller scale. However, if we are going to reclaim Winterfell then I would prefer to avoid any wish overt enough to get the masses to worship me as a God. That's just not me. And making a wish that would deliver Winterfell back to us in a flash despite our enemies outnumbering us would be impossible to explain in any other way," He argued.

His sister nodded slowly, understanding on her features.

"You are right, being worshiped by the people wouldn't suit you," She said, then hesitated. "So...what do you have in mind?"

Jon closed his eyes momentarily, as if ashamed. But then he turned back to her and she saw duty carved in his gaze.

"The lesser of the two evils," He muttered. "I am going to have to play the Game of Thrones."

She started at that, her blue eyes widening. "Some elaboration would be nice," She said simply.

Jon interlocked his fingers, his gaze staring far into the distance.

"The Army of the Dead is coming, sister," He said, a haunted expression in his face. "I am fairly confident that I could use my new godly powers to destroy them all before they arrive but look at the state of Westeros. Chaos and warfare have spread across the land giving rise to countless blood feuds, the harvests were interrupted and winter is coming. The civil wars have destroyed unity in a time when we should have been banding together. If I get rid of the Night King and refuse to maintain undisputable order across the land by ruling as a living god, then we would have lost our very best chance to unify the realms of men and start to mend the old wounds that are preventing a long-lasting peace. Nothing will get us to forget our differences and work together more than a massive existential threat that no faction would be able to defeat on their own."

Sansa stared at him, feeling the conviction in his tone as she analyzed his words. "I guess that makes sense. So, you want to use your powers more subtly in order to reforge the bonds of our people?"

"As I said, I am tired of fighting," Jon replied in a weary tone. "By the time I retire from all of that, I would like to avoid getting dragged into these violent messes ever again. The easiest way to do that without interfering with the free will of everyone else will create the conditions for the longest period of peace this world has ever seen. And I am afraid we can't do that without a common enemy."

There was a long moment of silence after he expressed his position. Then his lovely sister held his hand in hers and smiled softly. "I have to admit, it's reassuring to learn that this godhood business hasn't gotten to your head," Sansa said in relief. "I am with you, Jon, I swear. Now, what's the plan to reclaim our home?"

"I have a few ideas," The former Lord Commander said. "But the gist of it is using my resurrection as a cover story when I need to use some kind of power to increase our chances of raising an army to overthrow the Boltons. We can pass it off by implying that the god that brought me back gave me some magical abilities as a boon. Sorcerers are rare in this day and age but people still remember the legends. Of course, I would keep the enormous extent of my true abilities a secret but still, I would rather be treated as a wizard than a god."

"Fair enough," Sansa replied with a nod. "That would probably help to convince our banners that may have second thoughts about supporting us after they were devasted by the Red Wedding and the Boltons took over. But Jon..." She paused, fretting a bit. "You...hate lying," She stressed. "Are you sure this is what you want? Moreover, are you certain you can pull off these huge political deceptions convincingly? You don't exactly have much practice on that front."

"Too true," Her brother said, sighing. "Which is why I am afraid I did something dishonorable before you got here. I...used my powers to get better at lying convincingly."

The redhead jaw dropped at that, concern in her expression. "That," She said evenly, "must have been hard for you."

The Bastard of Winterfell rubbed his forehead, distressed. "Yeah. Thing is, I am worried about getting more comfortable making wishes like that before long."

His sister nodded in understanding. Then she frowned when it hit her.

"Wait, in what way did you included me on that wish?" She asked, narrowing her eyes.

Jon took a deep breath, then searched for something in his pocket. When he opened the piece of cloth, he showed her a beautifully engraved silver necklace with the sigil of House Stark.

"I made you a magical pendant," He revealed, his tone grave. "As long as you have it on, you will always be able to tell when someone is lying to you...even me," He added, looking away.

Sansa stared at him, wide-eyed, as the meaning of the gift sunk in.

"He is so afraid of losing me, of losing himself to these powers, so he is trying to ensure no one can ever trick me again, come what may," She thought mutely. "And...he trusts me to stay by his side; to help him stay true to himself."

At that moment, Sansa Stark realized she had never loved her brother more.

Her heart racing, she presented her neck to him. Before long, his firm hands were around her, placing the chain in its place. Then she turned to face her lover and started to tear up, emotions swelling inside her.

And so they kissed at the top of the world, her red mane caressed by the wind.