"Marriage?"

The word fell off his tongue, foreign and unfamiliar to his vocals. "It only makes sense, your grace," the little man beside his throne said with a short bow, his dark eyes flickering to meet his own. "It is important to align yourself with those you can trust. We can trust so few people even in this new world, so your choices are slim I'm afraid." His attempt at wit brought a wane smile to the new king's lips and his adviser let out a little chuckle. "I do have some suggestions, if it pleases your grace."

Jon (birth name or not, Aegon would never be his name) shrugged, shifting upon the throne he'd still yet to grow used to. He supposed it would take longer than a few months. A few months... It was hard to believe all that had happened these last several months, since his very first encounter with Daenerys back in Dragonstone. Since they had stumbled about, falling in love as a great and terrible war loomed over their heads. Jon had never expected to fall in love with the dragon queen, but, it had happened and there was no taking it back.

Well, not really.

In a strange twist of fate, Jaime Lannister took up arms against his sister, his twin, his lover, and joined sides with Daenerys back then. Of course, it had only happened after she nearly had him killed, but he supposed it didn't matter much how they acquired his allegiance. But then things began to unravel at an unusual pace, as their war upon the White Walkers took them back north, back home. Their arrival there revealed to him- and thus to Daenerys- of his true parentage. And in an even stranger twist of fate, the queen he'd pledged to serve no longer had the strongest claim to the Iron Throne. It was him. Of all people in the entire world, he was the one with the strongest, truest claim. His mother and father had been in love- he was not the child of a kidnapping and a rape, but of true love. Neither of his parents had lived long enough to be a part of his life- but his uncle, the man he'd called father all his life- had taken him in at the urging of his dying sister. Ned Stark had never been able to deny his sister anything, but of all things he'd never deny her only child. And so, he'd been raised along with the other Stark children, never told the truth until that fateful day he'd riden back through the gates of Winterfell.

And that was things began to spiral out of total control.

Jon could still remember that night, while he slept alone in his bed, she crept inside with a knife in her pocket. He remembered waking to the cold touch of steel to his throat, could remember the tremble to her whisper as the words passed her lips "There can't be two heirs." She had blood on her hands, stained down the whole front of her gown, and Jon had felt the tremor of fear rush through him. Just who had she killed already? And then, just as the blade pressed hard into his throat, she was falling back. Jon had not seen it coming, had not recalled even hearing the whistling of the blade as it flew through the air, but when Daenerys slumped to the ground, he'd felt relief. Behind her, clutching the bloody sword in his hands had been Tyrion, who had looked as shocked as Jon had felt.

Tyrion had saved his life; he had suspected her of such a crime the moment they had all heard the same news- that Jon was not a Stark bastard at all, but the true born son of Rhaegar Targaryen, and thus the true heir to the throne. After all Daenerys had worked for, there would have been no chance she'd give it up, and no chance she'd have let anyone live that knew the truth too. She would have killed the whole house, if given the chance. The blood down her front had been a guard, gravely injured in his grapple with the mother of dragons, that same fight that woke him from his own slumber.

And that, well that was what led them to where they were right then and there. With him, Jon Snow, on the Iron Throne, with Tyrion his Hand to the King. Jaime continued to serve as commander to the army, a newly gained ally who continued to prove his worth. Cersei was dead of course, dead from childbirth just the month before, her child gone with her. Jaime spoke not of his lost child, nor his lost lover, and Jon preferred it that way. His own heart was still healing, the feeling of being betrayed still all too fresh in his mind. To think he had put his trust into a woman (again) and been betrayed (again). He had sworn off women that night, but Tyrion laughed at him now that he brought it up again. "A King cannot swear of marriage." The dwarf said as he took a single step closer to the throne. "The succession is of utmost importance. Now that you have the throne, you must have a child or two who can take over after you."

"It would seem marriage is the least likely way I can form a succession. Women seem to rather kill me than love me." This brought another chuckle from Tyrion's lips and Jon couldn't help but to smirk himself. "But, you said you had suggestions, so suggest away."

"Lyanna Mormont."

Jon pulled a face, shaking his head. "Never. She's a child." He retorted, waving his hand impatiently. "It matters not what political ties she brings, there's absolutely no way in hell-" He stopped speaking when he caught Tyrion's eye, who arched a brow at the young man's outburst.

"Young but with a powerful alliance, she was the first to name you King in the North, and the first to support you in naming Sansa as Queen of the North." Jon never would have lived with himself if he'd taken the North from the Starks, from his family. In his first act after assuming the throne, he'd crowned his "sister" in her own right as ruler of the North, the eldest surviving child of Eddard and Catelyn Stark. Jon reminded himself then that though they had been raised as such, Sansa was far from being his sister. In truth, she was only his cousin, connected by her father and his mother. Thinking about her hurt, now that he thought about it, and Jon realized just how much he missed her.

"She would be first to have my head the moment I pissed her off," Jon replied, thinking back to the first time he'd met little Lyanna Mormont. Though she was a child, she was fearless, brutal in her commanding of her men and her House, loyal as any grown man ever could be. Tyrion shrugged, but couldn't blame Jon. Stranger marriages had taken place before and Kings could not marry for love, unless they were lucky, and Tyrion wasn't so sure this King ever would be lucky in love. Two women had already tried to take his life, so what surprise would there be if a third or even fourth tried?

"There is another, perhaps a better match than any of the others... It's just..." Tyrion had thought of this match from the very beginning- from the moment he had learned the whole truth. From the moment Jon's true origins had been named and he'd taken to the throne, Tyrion had thought about this match. "Something tells me you may like this one less than the Mormont girl." When Jon eyed him, but did not speak, Tyrion pressed on. "The Queen in the North would be a highly advantageous marriage."

For a moment, the world around him stopped- marry... Sansa? Marry a girl who was as good as his sister? A girl he'd grown up beside, a girl he'd known from the moment of her birth? "Sansa? You want me to marry Sansa?"

"Surely you understand the benefits of such a match," Tyrion went on, ignoring the young king's outburst, stepping around to the other side of his throne. "And at least you would not have to marry a stranger... That is not a luxury most Kings know." Jon's features softened, though with what Tyrion could not say- perhaps for the fondness he felt for the young Sansa Stark, a fondness so clearly witnessed with his own two eyes some months ago. "And with her comes an alliance with the Northern lords forevermore."

Though still new to politics, even Jon could see the truth behind Tyrion's words. Though accepted as the new King, Jon knew he still yet had to secure himself in his position. He needed allies, more than the ones he currently had. He needed powerful allies that he could rally in times of need, men he could count on no matter the situation. And what better ally could he get than the Lords of the North? The men that had stood beside Ned Stark, men that had stood beside Robb Stark, and men that had stood beside him. The Lords that had given him the men and the arms he needed to take back Winterfell from the Boltons. The Lords that had proclaimed him King of the North. Those were the allies he needed. And he supposed there would be no disapproval in his marriage to Sansa, should it be brought up... But the thought of marrying Sansa? It felt weird, but almost... Right. He shook his head, reminding himself again that he'd called her sister all his life, that nothing could change the relationship they'd established as siblings.

And yet...

Things were always changing, weren't they? Why should this be any different, he told himself as he drummed his fingers atop his thighs. "I suppose you are right, my lord, however..." He turned to face his Hand, pinning him with his dark-eyed gaze. "It cannot move forward without much consideration. Much time and planning. I will not act so hastily, not in this first year of my reign. Marriage can wait." Tyrion sighed, but recognized defeat, and so he stepped back to bow, before Jon continued to speak. "But you may invite Sansa here, along with all of my family. Ask them to come and we shall see what these final few months of my first year as King bring."

Tyrion gave one single nod, before he backed away, rushing off to send the raven to Winterfell, to bring together the Stark family one more time. This time, beneath the roof of their new king, Jon Snow.