The Provenance || Jon Snow | Game of Thrones

8.02

Sansa had not given either of them a chance to dictate this power struggle as she takes the center chair in Winterfell's great hall as the northern, southern, and eastern warriors make their way into the gallery before them. But Jon supposes they were in council when the troops arrived, so he simply gestures for Daenerys to sit next to his sister as he takes the other side. The room is loud in the chorus of worrying leaders, but all the while, the men fall to silence as Sansa stands before them, Daenerys looking warily at her posture that seems to command power.

"As soon as we heard about the Wall, I called all our banners to retreat to Winterfell," she serves to inform Jon, turning then to the young Ned Umber who stands and listens at her call, "Lord Umber when can we expect your people to arrive?"

"We need more horses and wagons, if it pleases my lady," he responds, only to mutter into nonsense as he recognizes that she is no longer the leader of this council, turning then to the resigned King and taken Dragon Queen, "And my lord...And my Queen. Sorry."

Sansa nods at him, feeling for his mistake as she looks at him with sincerity in her cerulean pearl eyes, "You'll have as many as we can spare. Hurry back to Last Hearth, and bring your people here."

The boy bows lowly before turning on his heel and out of the room, followed by a collection of his knights as the whispers seem to grow within the room. But thinking little of them, Jon is perpetually drawn to how they must prepare, saying, "We need to send ravens to the Night's Watch as well. There's no sense in manning the castles anymore. We make our stand here."

"At once, Your Grace," Maester Wolkan responds, bowing and leaving through the side entrance as Jon again notices their mistaken perception of his rule—long deserted to the Dragon Queen for an army and dragons.

"'Your Grace,'" Lyanna Mormont echoes the words of the maester, standing and walking toward the middle of the room as they all stare, awaiting the strength of her words as she presses into Jon. "But you're not. Are you? You left Winterfell a king and came back a—I'm not sure what you are now. A lord? Nothing at all?"

"It's not important," Jon responds, and Sansa quietly rolls her eyes at Jon's perhaps selfish desertion of the throne.

And Sansa is not the only angry one, as Lyanna hisses back at him, "Not important? We named you King in the North."

"You did, my lady," Jon replies as the men in the back echo her sentiment, his head ducking in typical expression of his embarrassment. "It was the honor of my life. I'll always be grateful for your faith. But when I left Winterfell, I told you we need allies, or we will die. I have brought those allies home to fight alongside us. I had a choice, keep my crown or protect the North. I chose the North."

"And what of Lady Gabrielle Baelish?"

The room falls into dire silence at the question of Lyanna Mormont, none failing to notice the lacking presence of the strong female who once held the heart of Jon Snow. They look at him—and also at Sansa—as no words on their part escape from their tongues. For Sansa, it's purposeful, knowing this is a question for Jon to answer. And for Jon...his heart is wracked in the moment with perceptions of loss, anger, love, and loneliness. And as cowardly as he is in that moment, it is not Jon that stands to answer, but the Dragon Queen herself. Daenerys rises to her toes as if to address their questions, only to lose her footing as the room shakes from the foundations to the tapestries...Sansa immediately knowing who that entails.

She gracefully dashes around the table and from the room in pursuit of Gabrielle's return, dodging the corners in her long steps before turning quickly into the gusty courtyard upon the scene which will leave her smiling for the days to come. And as the others file in behind her in equally fast motions, they come upon the infamous scene itself.