Northern Conqueror

Chapter 18: Want

Chapter 18: Want

Sansa felt like a caged wolf pacing her room and tugging at the cuff of her left sleeve, her brow knit so tightly it hurt. "I'm a Stark," she whispered to herself as she went to her door. "I'm a Stark."

With a breath she knocked on Jon's door, looking down the hall until the door opened and she turned to find him holding the door. He'd removed his jerkin and boots, leaving his breeches and tunic.

She'd expected some surprise, maybe even hoped for him to stutter and go wide eyed or smile with relief. Instead he maintained his even expression. "Mm?"

It shook her, but she was a Stark. She could endure the cold. "Am I interrupting?" She asked with a glance past him, seeing papers strewn about his desk. His dinner lay half eaten on his tray, though the mug of ale brought with it was turned over and empty.

He looked past her, into the corridor. "Is everything alright?"

Sansa frowned. "I hoped we could speak."

He'd been so quick to let her in before, yet watching him clearly think it over she wasn't sure if that was good or bad. At least he had to think instead of readily refusing her.

Without a word he pushed the door open and made his way back to his desk, letting her step inside and close the door herself.

She watched him look over the papers, picking one up and tossing it back down, shaking his head and heading over to the hearth. He stood in place for a moment, his arms crossed across his chest.

With a glance to his desk she asked, "Are those the documents Sam found?"

Jon turned to her and nodded. "Most of it."

"Most?" She asked, putting on a smile, making her way to the desk.

"There's a letter or two," he said with a wave of his hand, "and some reports on the Dreadfort."

Sansa came to a stop, looking from the papers to Jon. "Reports?"

"They've cleared out the dungeons, taken down everything linked to the Boltons." He shrugged. "It should be ready in a few weeks."

She quietly took a breath to replace what had left her so suddenly. "Are you leaving?"

Jon's jaw shifted, turning back to the hearth. "I haven't decided yet. I might head back to the Wall to check on Tormund's group. I'd like to have a wight before any southron lords send someone to meet us."

Her chest grew tight, struggling to breath. She hadn't just driven him from her, but driven him away from Winterfell, driven him to the Wall and beyond.

Jon stared at the wall, but it wasn't until he closed his eyes that he realized how long she'd been quiet. Arching his brow, he turned and felt his stomach drop when he saw her stood with her head leaned forward into her hands while her body shook silently.

In a burst of movement he rushed across the room, wrapping his arms around her. Sansa let out a sob the moment she felt his arms brush her back, taking her hands from her face to clutch his tunic as she pressed her face to his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," she said with a sob, "please don't leave me."

"Sansa," he groaned, not wanting to argue with her.

"Please," she pleaded into his shoulder.

Taking a breath, he steeled himself and pulled her off him, shocking her. "I can't just stay here forever, Sansa. You and Rickon will be fine here without me." His jaw shifted slightly as he declared, "I won't stay where I'm not wanted."