Seven Dreams One Kingdom

41-Sansa

Jaime's expression mirrored her worry as he considered the implications. "It's hard to say. Jon's connection with the dragons is unique, and we don't fully understand the extent of it."

Sansa's frown deepened as the revelation about Jon's ability to feel the dragons' pain settled in. That Jon had kept this aspect of his connection hidden from her brought a mix of surprise and concern. "I... he said nothing," Sansa confessed, a touch of hurt in her voice.

Jaime's comforting gesture, his hand on her arm, conveyed understanding. "He probably didn't want to worry you too much," Jaime offered, recognizing Jon's instinct to shield those he cared about from unnecessary distress.

Sansa nodded, acknowledging the uncertainty surrounding Jon's abilities. As they stood together, awaiting news from the Reach.

The room filled with tension as Jon cried out in pain and clutched his injured shoulder. Sansa's heart sank, the realization of Drogon's injury affecting Jon hitting her with a wave of concern.

"He's been hit," Jaime stated with a solemn certainty, his eyes fixed on Jon's distress.

Brynden, the Blackfish, joined them, seeking answers. "What's going on?"

"Drogon has been injured while Jon is in his head," Jaime told her.

The Blackfish's brow furrowed in worry. "Why doesn't he pull out?"

Sansa, tears forming in her eyes, looked up at her uncle. "I don't know. I'm not sure if he can." Sansa took Jon's hand in hers, tracing circles on the back of it.

"Mayhaps we should we fetch Maester Wolkan?" Brynden offered.

"What can the Maester do? They are ignorant to the plight of skin-changers. I have little understanding myself, despite being able to see through the eyes of a bird," Sansa mused, placing her palm upon Jon's forehead. She noted his unusual temperature, cold and clammy. "His body is always warm."

The Blackfish, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, offered words of encouragement. "He'll be alright, lass. He's a tough lad."

Jon's sudden intake of breath marked his return to consciousness. His grey eyes were now bright indigo, but at least they weren't milk white, a sign he had returned to them. Despite the visible strain on his face and his pale, clammy skin, the shift in his eyes offered reassurance that he was coming back to himself. The ordeal had taken a toll on Jon, and the aftermath required attention to ensure his recovery.

Sansa grabbed hold of him and pulled him into her arms. "You scared me."

Jon looked around the room, perplexed by the reaction. Jon looked around the room, perplexed by the reaction. "Drogon's injured, and I couldn't break free from him." His voice was hoarse and weak. His voice was hoarse and weak.

"You need to rest!" Sansa insisted. She turned to Brynden, who nodded and left the confines of the bedchamber. "Now we fetch the Maester." her focus returned to Jon. "How is your shoulder?"

Jon winced as Sansa's inquiry drew his attention to the pain in his shoulder. He gingerly touched the injured area. "It hurts," he admitted, his voice still weak. The strain of the skin-changing experience and the potential injury to Drogon had taken a toll on him.

"What happened out there?" Jaime asked.

Jon turned to Sansa. "She burnt it all. The soldiers, the grain, the horses. Just as you said." He frowned. "But it wasn't anywhere near a full harvest. Probably a little over a thousand bushels. The carts were too small and the horses too many."

"What about Lord Tarly?" Jaime asked.

Jon shook his head. "He refused to bend the knee."

"What a simpleton. He isn't even wielding his blade for the sake of my sister."