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Sansa could see from the back of his head, his body was tense as she followed after him.
"You are my sister but I am king now," Jon says with a gruff tone.
Sansa rolls her eyes as she follows on his heels.
"Will you start wearing a crown?"
He ignores her, narrowing his eyes in annoyance.
"When you question my decision in front of all the other lords and ladies, you undermine me."
He looks back to give her a pointed look, his cloak billowing in the cold, behind him.
Jon knew it was the best decision to undertake, giving the Karstarks and the Umbers their homes back. Sansa had to understand that he refused to punish the children for the crimes of the father. The past was already written, and more conflicts within his people were the last thing he wanted.
Jon also didn't want a divided North in the upcoming war against the army of the dead. Otherwise, the living wouldn't stand a chance if they were all fighting each other. No, they could not afford that, especially now that Winter had arrived.
Sansa raised an eyebrow as she walked up the steps.
"So, I can't question your decisions anymore?"
"Of course, you can but- "
She cut him before he could finish his entire sentence.
"Joffrey never let anyone question his authority. You think he was a good King?"
Jon stops for a moment. His eyes trailed her figure as a feeling of shock and dread settled in his stomach.
She thought he was like Joffrey. The blonde-haired king beat her and stripped her naked in court, while all the other subjects watched without helping her. Who did whatever he wanted without listening to the advice of others. A cruel, selfish and vindictive boy who only ever cared about himself.
Jon knew he would rather die a thousand deaths than ever let that happen to Sansa purposefully on his part.
Still, he wanted to know for certain if she considered him as vile as the arrogant prince who tortured her and robbed her of her innocence.
"Do you think I'm Joffrey?" he questions with disbelief.
Sansa stopped in her tracks, turning to face Jon. Joffrey was the only King she had known personally after he had shown his true colours. The other was Robert. But he was fat and a drunken king who had others ruling for him instead of making decisions himself.
No, she had to make sure Jon did not follow the actions of the two previous rulers.
Her face softens as she looks into his dark eyes, identifying the hurt in his eyes at her words. It was a harsh thing to do- compare his actions to Joffrey, despite knowing they were on two complete ends of the spectrum. But she did not want him to make the mistakes of the former kings.
She had to keep him safe from those who wanted to hurt him.
She couldn't bear the thought of him dying, just like her father and brother. Jon was good and had a kind heart, but without her to notice the shadows lurking in the corner, or people who wanted to manipulate him for their selfish desires, he'd find himself with a knife through his heart.
And if Littlefinger got the better of him, then that situation might become a reality, she thought darkly, a hint of fear running down her spine.
"You're as far from Joffrey as anyone I've ever met," she reassures him softly, a glint of fondness in her blue eyes.
Jon felt a warmth blossom in his chest as he saw the soft look she was directing at him. He clenched his fists into his palms, recognising the feeling.
No. It's not proper and not to mention dangerous. She's already been through too much. He had to look away before the feeling consumed him completely.
"Thank you," he gives a short nod and looks away into the courtyard, unable to keep eye contact any longer.
He could feel her eyes staring into the side of his face. Nerves bubbled around in his stomach, he could feel his cheeks blooming in redness.
"You're good at this you know," she smiles softly, her head tilted to the side as she eyed him.
"At what?" he looks towards her again curiously.
"At ruling."
He gives a disbelieving sigh. "No"
"You are. You are," she reiterates with emphasis, wanting him to believe her words.
She knew that he was good a ruling. He had all the traits a ruler should have - brave and gentle but also firm with his subjects. He was the sort of ruler she had envisioned during her younger years. He was also the sort of man her father promised her to be.
"They respect you, they really do but you have to – "
Jon gives out a short laugh making her stop mid-sentence. Sansa narrows her eyes, a teasing smile on her lips.
"Why are you laughing?" she questioned him, liking the way his face lit up as he laughed.
He stares and walks past her.
"What did father use to say? Everything before the word 'but' is horse shit," he says.
She looks at him in surprise. "Never said that to me."
"No. No, he never cursed in front of his girls."
He supposed Arya wouldn't have minded even if their father had cursed in front of her. She probably would have laughed and asked him to say it again, he thought fondly. Sansa was the one that would have been shocked, she would have claimed it was unladylike. Glancing at her, he knew how far she had grown, into a strong, intelligent and resilient woman whom he admired.
Perhaps, a bit more than admiration a part of him remarked. He dismissed this thought quickly.
"Because he was trying to protect us," she pointed out, pausing for a moment as she considered something. "He never wanted us to see how dirty the world really is, but Father couldn't protect me and neither can you. Stop trying."
Jon scowls fiercely. It was a thought that bothered him greatly, and it was something he wouldn't stop doing. He would keep protecting her even if she didn't want his protection. The fact that she didn't have faith in him to keep her safe made him snap.
"Alright, I'll stop trying to protect you and you stop trying to undermine me," he sharply retorted with a glare.
"I'm not trying to undermine you," she argues.
She reached out and grabbed his arm, turning him to face her properly as it was clear he had no intention to do so.
Jon breathed in a sharp breath as he felt her hand on his arm. He could feel a tingle on the spot from where she grabbed him, making him look down at the sudden contact in shock. Her voice made him look up, and an attack of fluttering hit his stomach hard.
He swallowed as he gazed at her, noticing how close they were both standing.
"You have to be smarter than father. You have to be smarter than Robb. I loved them, I miss them but they made stupid mistakes and they both lost their heads for it," she persuades him.
The same fate befalling Jon scared her more than Cersei Lannister ever could, she had come to realise. It could never happen, she vows resolutely to herself.
"And how should I be smarter? By listening to you?" he asked curiously with a soft tone.
She took a deep breath, "Would that be so terrible?"
No, Jon thought to himself. I guess it wouldn't be.