renatumbellator:

Jon smiled as he stepped in, the door opened with a graceful push. “I am fairng well. As you might suspect, dinner will be upon us within an hour. It is at the request of Lord Glover and the others that you attend.” He paused, musing briefly over his word choice. “They have given me their word to not bother you with questions of plenty. But the heads of the Northern houses still wish to see to it that the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard is alive and well.”

His arms shifted as he folded them behind his back. It felt odd—to have such conversations with his sister—a sister who he had never been close with before. It was the growing resemblance to Catelyn Stark that edged at the mind of the young King. His grey eyes briefly cast to her bed before looking back to her. “I have no doubt that eventually these lords will ask me to marry you off to a northern heir.”

He then brought out his right hand and motioned to her. “But I will tell them that it is not up to me but to you.” The meaning of his words were clear—as her king and her brother, he would not force her into a marriage. There was something else in his meaning—in the intent of attempting to stomp out a worry. A flicker of a hint in his eyes, but undeterminable of what it truly was.

With a release of a sigh, he smiled at her. “—Before we leave for dinner, do you have any questions for me? Any at all that I can answer, sister?” The word, so foreign, moved off his tongue like it was natural.

:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::

                She did not expect miracles, she knew she would be summoned, so to speak, and it was a relief that they would be supping as opposed to presenting her to the court or in a council meeting. Sansa was not quite sure how she felt yet, Winterfell was her home and the North was where her family reigned and yet Jon was Lord Protector, Warden and heir.

                She couldn’t help but feel that she—Sansa Stark—was regaled to near nothing for all her troubles. Yet, she couldn’t quite begrudge Jon for the responsibility thrusted upon him. He did not ask for this, it was a time of war and Robb did what he could and Stannis was doing what he could—and the North was just trying to regroup. Still, it made her more determined to ensure she would be able to help and not just be a—a commodity to be passed from house to house. Not before the Starks re-established themselves.

                  ”Trust me, I am as excited to meet them as they are for me. News from the North have been scarce south of the Neck and I wish to be updated of our bannerman and people. They are welcome to all their questions and I will gladly answer them on the condition I can ask some of my own.”

                   It was a good answer, one that sidestepped the talk of marriage entirely. They would not do this to her if they wanted her support. She would not stand for it. Not this time, not yet. Instead, she allowed a small nod of acknowledgement, for Jon’s sense of tact. Mayhaps they can fully utilise it to further postpone such talks. She was, after all, still married to a Lannister.

                   ”Besides what they will be serving for dinner?” A tiny smile and almost a hint of a laugh. “How many of our old bannerman are here with us?”