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The show is — a bit weirdly — playing Sansa and Jon’s scenes as if they’re a romantic couple waiting to happen. (People keep doubting me on this, but seriously, compare their scenes to the way the season two scenes between Talisa and Robb were shot.)
MAJOR FIC REC: Coming Down Like an Avalanche by SainTalia
Somewhere farther in the—base, house? wherever they were—there was a sizzling noise. It had hint of grease to it; the promise of something warm and good if she just got up. Unless there was a third person here, Jon was in the kitchen.
She flushed hard. Jon. Jon. Dark hair, dark beard, callused hands and gruff voice and gentle touches, and—
She’d thought Joffrey had ruined this for her, but it seemed not. Jon Snow had rescued her. He’d rescued Lady. And more alarmingly: he was the kind of drop-dead gorgeous that could inspire masterpieces fit for gallery walls. Gods, could a man really be that beautiful?
Maybe last night had just been the firelight and her possible concussion helping him along. Maybe this Jon Snow sort was actually normal-looking in daylight hours.
But even so, she remembered his promise. His hand on her ankle. The mouth on him.
And she remembered his eyes most of all. Iron. Flint. Smoke before flame. She’d thought that last night, just for a minute—there’d been something in the way he’d looked at her. Something intent. Maybe even…?
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Summary: For some reason unbeknown to Sansa, the old gods had chosen her to be the next girl to have the power to stop the Wights and the Long Night. But they shouldn’t have.
Not this Stark girl at least. No, Sansa just wanted to be on the cheer squad and get into a good college far from the North. This hadn’t come into the equation.
But neither had Robb’s best friend Jon, whose absentee father had shown up out of blue just shy of his eighteenth birthday and taken off with him. Now he was back and changed. He had come back wrong.
Chapter Two: Lie To Me
"So, what is Robbs little sister doing out in the middle of the night when she's supposed to be at a sleepover?" Jon drawls out as he plays with the tip of her dagger.
"I was... er... you see I- I sleep walk. Yep, it's really bad. I can end up anywhere in the morning. Just like with here and now, its a condition you know."
One eyebrow rises up at her answer. "Right," he says incredulously at her, like he doesn't believe her, which yer, that’s not hard to do with that lame and stumbled out excuse.
"Yes it is right, what about you then?" she huffs as she yanks the dagger and herself back. Better to keep a safe distance she thinks, especially when he's looking like a predator with those sharp and gleaming teeth.
"Oh I've been following you most of the night." His eyes tighten at her as he searches her face for a reaction.
But it's blank in utter shock at his admission, so he continues on. "I was already in the woods when I saw you leave that coffee place at nine. Then I went to go after you, perhaps tease you for pulling one over on your parents about your little sleepover, but then I saw you leap right over the cemetery gates across town. No one could jump a gate that high, at least no one human."
Her heart squeezed in her chest. He knew. Maybe not everything, but he knew something wasn't quite right. All because she was being careless, she was too busy sipping on her caramel mocha to notice her surroundings.
And now he was looking at her all smug at his outright honesty. He's caught her out there. But fine, if he liked being so truthful two could play at that game, she also knew something wasn't quite right with him.
"I was out hunting Wights. Its been like, my job, for a few months now."
She can see from the smirk he's in a teasing mood, "Still in the training period then from what I've seen."
Ugh- when did he get so playful.
She knows it was in a jest but the comment stung all the same. Especially after Davos' comment earlier about the world being doomed with her as its protector.
"Wait a minute. Oh I see it now. You're her. The slayer. Well I never would have pictured her being you," he says quite matter of factly. Well he's all about dropping the truth bombs tonight.
She preferred it when they didn't talk.
"Yer, well that makes two of us," she knows her eyes are big and sad she doesn't want him to see her like that, like his words effect her but she can't help it.
He starts rubbing at his neck nervously, "I'm just joking with you Sansa. You did great out there, a bit more practice and if you just let go you'd be unstoppable."
He's trying to be nice she guesses, but now she's not in the mood.
"Thanks but I already have somebody on my back who tries to give me helpful pointers I don't need two. And anyway back to you stalker boy. Question one, how did you throw that Wight that far and question two, how did it just die without being stabbed by dragon glass?"
Because if other people can kill these things then Sansa's going on a little vacay for some me time.
"You remember I used to be on the high school football team right and I'm one of the star quarter backs at Castle College. I used one of the block and shove techniques, I've pushed off guys bigger than that."
Yep she did remember, his butt always had looked good in those tight pants.
He and Robb were naturals when it came to athleticism and had both gotten football scholarships for it. Cheering her brother on with the rest of her family on big game nights had actually made her try out for the schools cheerleading squad in softmore year. She was one of the youngest to ever get on the squad with it only being filled with seniors and juniors. She used to have so much potential.
But she's never been an idiot, Robb wouldn't have been able to launch it a few feet away. Sansa could have, but that was only because of the abilities she now possessed.
"You don't seem shocked by what's just happened. Something like that's not normal, how are you not freaking out?" She was being a little intense with her questioning she knew, but Jon was different now as well and she wanted to know why.
He shrugs, "You'd be surprised at the things I've seen."
Did he always have to be so ominous and talk in tongues. Now they're back to silence and side eyeing each other again.
After a moment she yawns quite loudly, the adrenaline leaving her body to be replaced with a tiredness she feels in her bones.
He takes some pity on her, holding his hands up as he suggests they head back.
She shouldn't let him go back to her home, where her little brothers and sister are. She feels pulled in two, she doesn't think he can be trusted but then he had been around her family since he changed and hadn't done anything untoward.
So she simply nods and gestures for him to lead on first as she grabs her bag.
On the walk home together they ensure a slight distance is kept, as they both seem to be on alert around one another.
As they head back they begin to talk. Which isn't a strange thing to do, but it is for them. Jon and Sansa don't really talk past pleasantries.
Maybe there's something about the night, about being shrouded in darkness with only the moon watching, that she feels more open. Or maybe she just craves to talk to somebody about this stuff with, other than a stuffy sixty year old librarian.
So she tells him about what happened when Davos came along and plucked her out her perfect bubble that was her life and dragged her into this. That she wasn't normal anymore and now even something as simple as school was becoming harder.
Because the flashes of her parents disappointed eyes enter her mind, over her slipping grades and her teachers comments that were no longer filled with praise and how she excelled but that she was only maintaining an average grade and her homework was rushed.
She tried to cover up the quivering in her voice at the end by masking it with another yawn but she failed miserably.
Jon tells her about the first time he saw a Wight when it ripped apart his mother when he was thirteen. She remembers that time he had to go live with Mr Aemon after it happened. The whole family had been in morning during that period.
She remembers how at school everybody had treated Jon differently, and how he hated it. The adults talked to him softly, afraid he'd burst into tears at any moment and handled him with kid gloves.
His jaw used to be permanently clenched and his hands always curled into fists like he was ready to pounce.
Instead when Ramsay Bolton had made a horrible comment about his dead mother he had just punched a wall and Robb had pulled him outside.
She's silent for a long time, what do you say to someone after that?
"I- I'm sorry," she murmurs, knowing it was a stupid thing to say, but that it was true nonetheless.
"Yer, everyone's sorry," he huffs out.
She grabs at his elbow to stop them, "I am Jon. So sorry. I couldn't even begin to imagine what losing my mother would do to me, and seeing it as well. I'm eighteen and can barely handle this situation I'm in and you were thirteen. So yes, I am sorry for you Jon and I wished it had never happened to you. Your mother was brave and beautiful and she should still be here, its not fair."
She cups his face, her thumb swiping at the tears that fall from the corner of his eye. All she sees is that sad little thirteen year old boy sat at their house on the front steps during his mothers wake. She had used her cardigan sleeve to wipe at his tears back then. He had been so mad, mad at the world, mad at himself for crying and mad at her for seeing him cry.
She had given him her sunglasses to hide his red rimmed eyes when they joined the others in the back garden.
She guides her hand from his cheek down his arm and hovers her open hand over his in an invitation. He grasps it up, interlocking their fingers as they moved forwards.
For a few moments they can pretend to just be Jon Snow and Sansa Stark. Normal teenagers sneaking around in the dead of night. And not deadly people with inhuman strength and secrets.
When they reach the back garden they stand before the big willow tree outside her bedroom, the one that she uses to help her get back inside.
She pauses turning to him, "You know you still didn't really explain how you threw it that far, or how it died?"
"I didn't did I." He ignores her questioning again, she thinks he likes annoying her.
He distracts her by asking how she's gonna explain being back when she's supposed to be at a sleepover.
"Oh I'll just put my alarm on vibrate to go off at half eight and come right through the front door like I usually have to," this is her new normal now.
"Hey you don't mind me using your window to sneak back in do you, it seems easier than scaling the drain pipe to get back into Robbs?"
She shakes her head and watches in stunned silence as he leaps up higher than a normal person should, onto one of the branches and flips his body onto her window ledge and steps into her room.
She should be concerned about that, but she's more worried about the fact a boy is in her bedroom. What if she's left some underwear out?
Oh god, she'd hardly been wearing black lace at the minute, they were all grey cotton and sports bras. That quickly spurs her into action and she follows him in.
She sighs in relief. He's not snooping, of course he's not, Jon wouldn't do something like that. He was just smiling at the photos on her wall.
Specifically, the one of all of them from the lake house two summers ago. They had been in the water, Sansa had given up trying to not get her hair wet after Arya and Robb made it their mission to nearly drown her after she moaned about it. When they had all gotten out, with wrinkled fingers, her mother had taken a photo.
She looks to the photo as well, seeing Jon's arm wrapped around her waist as they stand on the jetty smiling at her mother.
Jon comes right up to her and she freezes wondering what he wants to do so close to her. He still set her belly full of nerves and she still didn't know if it was a slayer thing or just a girl/boy thing.
But he just puts a simple kiss on her forehead and she's left in a daze at his rich and heady masculine scent that invades her senses.
He moves his lips down to her ear and whispers good night. Maybe he does it so he's quiet and he doesn't wake anyone up in the house, but she likes to think its so he can keep close to her.
His face stays at the side of her face, his hands hovering near his hips. She knows this is dangerous as she feels a heat rise within her. She should stop it, this was Jon, not only her brothers best friend but also something not entirely human.
She grabs a fistful of his shirt pushing him backwards as she stays close to him, nearly right up against his body. They only stop when she's backed him into the wall by her door, she leans back, her eyes darting to his mouth. She sees him lick his lips in anticipation, she leans in close and whispers goodnight as she opens her bedroom door with a click.
He huffs out a small chuckle at her.
She's going to reply until she sees movement on the landing. They really should have made sure everyone was in bed.
They both freeze at the person on the top of the stairs holding a glass of water.
They all seem stiff and wide eyed at the situation. No one dares to move because then it all becomes real. She knows how this looks.
Coughing from her parents room seems to get them all off of pause as they spring quietly into action.
Bran thankfully goes silently to his room and Jon goes to Robbs, giving her a wink as he shuts the door behind him.
When she closes her bedroom door, she has to lean against it for a few moments to catch her breath.
Her alarm softly wakes her at half eight and she feels well rested, almost as if she had no dreams at all last night keeping her mind busy. She knows she did, but the memory of them had already been chased away at her waking.
She dresses slowly, putting on her coat and grabbing her bag before she sneaks back through her window and around the house to the front door.
She goes straight to the kitchen and adjoining dining room which was the heart of their house.
She enters to her parents hushed voices which she ignores as she greets them, plonking her bag on the counter top.
Her mother kisses her head good morning and Sansa pulls away sharply, looking at her mother weirdly, when she heard her take a small sniff of her hair.
Her mother just smiles, a rather large one that stretched right across her cheeks before she tells her to go put her things away. She needed to get cleaned up so she could set the table for breakfast.
There's a sinking feeling in her stomach that makes her go up the stairs slowly as they begin whispering again.
Her parents probably think she won't be able to hear them this far away, but she can now.
"And?" her father asks.
"I'm not sure, it was to faint to tell really," her mother replies as she begins getting pans out of the cupboard for breakfast.
"There we go then, you're getting yourself worked up over nothing."
"A mother knows Ned, you just don't want to think it because she's your little girl," her mother tells him finally.
That sinking feeling in her stomach does a one-eighty as it rises to her throat, so she shoots up the stairs not wanting to hear anymore.
Did they know too?
She supposes they had been picking up on her changes lately.
Gods, she was rubbish at this. Davos had warned her of how dangerous it would be if people found out.
Sansa fiddled with the strings on her sweat pants- she would never have been caught dead in these things before- and decided she would not tell her watcher.
It's not like she had gone and blurted her secret out to them all, they had either followed her and found out or just seemed to know.
A mother just knows Ned.
She doesn't know how she would, but mothers often did seem to know things. Especially her meddling one.
She flees past Robbs room as she hears deep and grumbling morning voices through the door and goes straight to Brans.
Poking her head round she waits until he looks up from his computer before she speaks, "You better keep your mouth shut."
Bran doesn't say a word, instead he pretends to zip his mouth and throw away an invisible key. At least that was sorted out easily enough.
Things go down hill once she's in the shower. Her hair is washed and now she's mindlessly scrubbing down her body when her thoughts keep going to a certain someone with dark eyes and darker curls.
Her hands just start to run away with her, but she can't help it when she's all slippery from her soap and starts to slowly caress over her breasts. Her hands drift lower, to where she's smooth and freshly shaven.
Its not her hand she's imagining is rubbing her in small circles, but Jon's. In her mind he's just finished kissing her neck before bending down right in front of her, pulling one of her legs over his strong shoulder as his mouth joins his fingers.
Just as her head falls back she has to yank her hand away as if its been scolded, as she had nearly cried out his name.
What was she doing, anyone could hear her.
She finishes washing off the foam from her soap and flees into her bedroom.
She's only half dressed when she gets side tracked and she stands in her room to replay last nights events with Jon. Where he had kissed her forehead and been so close to her lips. To where she backed him up against the wall and felt his hot breath on her. She saw the look in his eyes, he had wanted her to kiss him.
She bites her lip and looks down at her body, she's still flushed and now her chest is heaving.
Her mind wasn't on anything but on the throb between her legs which had only grown more demanding in her attention.
It held so much power over her that she hadn't even really thought about it before she had dived under her covers, not even fully dried.
Her hands trace over the same path again as what she did in the shower, her fingers gliding through her wetness. She can feel the difference of the water from the shower to her own slightly thicker wetness that makes her smooth through her folds with ease.
She closes her eyes and the Jon in her mind is now under the covers and has gone straight to eating her pussy. The Jon in her head calls it that, he's filthy and she loves it.
It doesn't take long for her to start keening softly, burying her face and biting at her pillow to quieten the moans that leave her lips.
She sings a song so sweet for him.
Imaging that it was Jon who wasn't being gentle and was shoving his fingers inside of her was bringing her quicker to the edge than ever before. He was currently whispering filthy things about what he wanted to do to her, about her whole family being just outside her door and anyone of them could hear her.
Her hips were now reaching for her fingers when she peaked, to keep riding out the blissful high it brings for as long as she could.
Once the waves have past, that feeling creeps up on her. Its not quite guilt, more a slight burning of shame and she quickly dresses, as if her mother and father are going to barge into her room shouting 'shame' at her.
She curses the gods, for who does she see as she's about to make her way downstairs but him.
Jon steps from Robb's room as he's pulls a grey hoodie down over himself, he pauses just out of the doorway and sniffs the air.
He zones in on her with blown pupils. There's a hungry look that has taken over his whole face and Sansa wants to whimper when the heat pools in her belly again. Again, she just had bleeding sated it.
He can't be looking at her like that because of what she'd just done could he?
He can't smell it on her, it wasn't possible. She still smelt the slight lingering sweetness of it but only because of her heightened senses.
But then Jon seemed capable of impossible things lately.
She knows her breathing had still not slowed down normally yet and her cheeks must be flushed.
His eyes drop to the hand at her side, the one that had a sheen of wetness on it moments ago before she wiped it on her bed covers as she fled the scene.
She fists her hand and hides it behind her back as if that would solve the problem, out of sight, out of mind.
It doesn't, he seems under no control as he stalks towards her.
His eyes are darker than she'd ever seen as he reaches her. Before he can say a word her eyes flicker to Robbs bedroom where her brother is coming out.
Jon doesn't seem too concerned at what this might look like. But she does.
"I have to set the table", she blurts out as she bolts down the steps, making it her first priority to scrub her hands raw before setting the table.
Jon makes sure he subtly brushes past her siblings so he can claim the chair next to hers and it makes her stomach flutter.
He wants to sit next to her, he wanted to kiss her. He wants her and she feels something strange, something like giddiness at the thought of it.
She wonders what would happen if she just stopped fighting things so much, so she gives him a secret smile hidden from the others through the curtain of her hair.
One of his hands grasps at her thigh under the table. It was strange how they had gone to this. From not really having a relationship to shared secrets, hand holding in the moonlight and grasped thighs. All in just one night.
She should be scared at how quickly things had changed between them, but she's not. All she feels is a weight lifted off of her shoulder that she thinks she can now talk to Jon about all of this.
She wants to tell him lots of things, she wants to be close to someone again.
As soon as her mother has put the last of the plates in the middle of the table it begins.
They're like a pack of wolves as they wrestle for spoons and forks to pile sausages and scrambled eggs onto their plates.
Sansa would have once had a little scoop of a few things, now her appetite is as large as Robb's and Jon's.
Her mother had loved when she started to laden more bacon slices and toast on her plate, because she thinks its to do with Sansa no longer caring much about her appearance and enjoying her mothers cooking more again. When in reality it was just that she needed more energy so had to consume a lot more now with how much she was burning off.
Her mothers not smiling though, as she picks up her tea cup and sips it slowly staring at Sansa until she finally relents and looks upon her mother.
She has haughty look on her face and Sansa shrinks back, what had she done now.
"I rang Beth's mother last night just to make sure you got there alright," her mothers lips are pursed and she knows that means trouble.
Oh shit, she gulps.
"Why did you do that, I texted to say I did," thats right Sansa make this worse by getting defensive.
Her mothers eyes narrow at her respnce, "Well isn't that strange, because she said you weren't there and couldn't remember the last time you had slept? So then I rang Jeyne's mother as well. Can you guess what she told me?"
She knows her mothers being rhetorical but she can't help try to scramble a response, "Er-
Her mother beats her to it, obviously not in the mood for some half assed excuse by asking yet another question, "Is it some boy?"
Everyone whips there heads to look at Sansa now, she see's Arya smirk at the shit show unfolding right in front of her, thoroughly enjoying watching Sansa squirm.
Her father has the decency to roll his eyes at his wife's tactlessness and she had to agree, like really, right at the breakfast table mum.
Robb looks like he's going into big brother mode with a frown and accusing eyes like how dare she at seventeen even think about sneaking out to see a boy.
Which she didn't, which makes this all the more annoying.
At least Jon's keeping his big trap shut as chugs his whole glass of fresh orange.
She didn't have long to think of anything with them all waiting on her and what lie would actually sound believable in this situation that wouldn't get her grounded.
How was she going to explain the fact she that she left with her stuff to sleep out at her friends since her mother had proof.
Gods, was it getting hot in here.
No, she was just panicking and everyone was still looking at her and even Jon had turned his smarmy looking face to her as if he couldn't wait to see her try and get out of this.
"I wasn't feeling well just before I got to Beth's so I came home and quietly went upstairs because I didn't want to disturb anyone?" Well done Sansa, she cursed, say it like a question.
"That's what you're going with," Arya snorts.
"That's funny considering you texted saying you were there safe. And if you left at sevenish and came back from walking to Beth's you would have been home when I saw your room empty at around ten when I went to sort Rickon out after his bad dream."
Well she had her there. And Sansa did not work well under pressure.
"Maybe, I was sleep walking then?"
Jon snorts beside her.
A mother knows Ned, it means something different now.
Of course it wasn't about her mother suspecting she was a slayer, but about her mother suspecting she was having sex with boy.
How could she not have guessed that was what they were whispering about.
Her mother didn't believe her anyway. Which is why they were now sat in their family's doctors office waiting for the birth control prescription that Sansa now had to take.
She thinks both herself and Doctor Luwin, who has seen her grow from being a baby, will not look each other in the eyes for a long time.
It wouldn't have been so bad, most girls her age went on it, but her mother had to scandalise it with retelling her now being moody and secretive and all about her late nights of sneaking out in and out of the house at all hours and lying about it.
Probably for the best, rather she believe she was sneaking out with boys than what she was really up to.
All the way to the car Sansa had to listen to her mothers constant barrage of questioning.
"Who's this boy then, the one thats got you sneaking about? Is it just the one?"
"There's no boy and of course it would be one mother, gods."
"Do I know them or any of their family?"
"There's no boy."
"Do they go to her school? They better be school age, how old is he?"
Her mother cuts her off again before she can repeat that there is no boy.
"Oh, or how old is she... that kind of thing is something to be proud of, you don't need to be worried about telling us if that's why you haven't mentioned it."
"Mom you can actually say the words 'are you gay Sansa?', and no I'm not. Also boys my age are stupid but yet again I say there is no boy."
"Maybe you could bring them for tea to meet me and your father."
Oh somebody save me please.
Her phone vibrates between them as the message pops up, her prayers are answered.
Only the message is there to be read as clear as day as it sits in between them both. Shit.
Jon: Last night was interesting. Perhaps we should sneak out again together...
Well that clearly made it look as if Sansa had been straight up repeatedly lying to her mother when a text like that comes through. Why couldn't one thing just go right.
She knows her mothers seen it. A gasp falls from her lips and her mother has to quickly right the car when they nearly swerve into a tree, because her eyes were to busy re-reading the message before Sansa could make a grab for it.
She slips it into her purse with flaming cheeks. She opens and closes her mouth several times before finally giving up on trying to recover the situation and stares out of the window.
Her mother waits until they've got home and are parked up on the drive before she speaks.
She unclips her belt and turns her whole body to face her.
Great, I'm so in for it now. Stupid Jon, sending that stupid text. Wait until I see him.
"Really Sansa, your brothers best friend. This could be messy you know, although a part of me is glad it's Jon. As a mother no one will be good enough for you but he comes pretty close. Of course he's a sweet boy and so handsome, a little troubled lately though. Oh this is strange, I'll see what your father says about it."
Why does she need to tell father.
She doesn't even try to explain, what was the point.
Summary: For some reason unbeknown to Sansa, the old gods had chosen her to be the next girl to have the power to stop the Wights and the Long Night.
But they shouldn’t have. Not this Stark girl at least.
No, Sansa just wanted to be on the cheer squad and get into a good college far from the North. This hadn’t come into the equation.
But neither had Robb’s best friend Jon, whose absentee father had shown up out of blue just shy of his eighteenth birthday and taken off with him. Now he was back and changed. He had come back wrong.
Chapter One: Changes
It shouldn’t be Sansa. He had said that she was the chosen one, the man who was to be her watcher. She was the who would stand alone against the forces of darkness, to keep the long night at bay.
Yer right. They had clearly gotten it wrong somewhere. For she was not who anybody would have picked for this. She was the pampered princess, lips glossed, short skirt smoothed down and not a single curled hair out of place.
She certainly shouldn’t be the only one in this generation that was for sure. Mankind was doomed.
She was not a fighter. If it had to have been a Stark girl, then it should have been Arya. She feels guilty about how many times she had prayed before going to bed, which was somewhere around three in the morning now, for wanting it to be Arya.
Let it be her. Not this Stark. Let her be the chosen one and not me. You have it all wrong.
Summary: Sansa should have been having the time of her life celebrating graduation with her friends in Kingslanding.
But her parents have other plans, instead sending Sansa with her feral little brother to a run down camp in the North. All in an attempt to get their two unruly children straightened out.
Whatever, Sansa was not lost and this wasn’t about to be one of those stupid summers were she would embark on a journey of self-discovery. That was not her. No way.
But being there, in the heart of the North she starts to remember who she was before the likes of Joffrey had set his claws in her.
These were the nights were she found Jon, were she reforged her bond with Rickon and met people that were fierce and proud of who they were. These were the nights of summer.
Chapter One: Introduction
Sansa’s head was still pounding, the milk of the poppy vial had yet to kick in after the night’s slumber party with Margaery.
They had pestered her older brother Garland, to buy them a bottle of peach schnapps with added frilly umbrella's, that they had drunk in less than twenty minutes.
Later, after sipping on a pink concoction of Margaerys making with a cocktail stick full of sweet Morella cherries, they had giggled their way down to the cellar to pop open a bottle of Arbour Gold champagne.
They often didn't need a reason at all for these nights, but they had gone all out just the two of them. In celebration at them both finishing high school a few days ago and breaking up for the summer.
Well that was what Margaery was celebrating for, Sansa on the other hand, was knocking back drinks to avoid her problems. Everything seemed better in a champagne haze.
They had gone back to Margs' room with a full glass and played games that had gotten more of an edge to them the more they drank.
It didn't matter if it was just the two of them, because whenever you had Margareys attention on you, your night was made. She just had that aura around her. She was the blooming rose in the centre of any room she was in and even Sansa couldn't help but gravitate towards her.
The last thing she remembered was revealing all about her first kiss and all the juicy details about her breakup with Joffrey during truth or dare.
It was only as her head hit the plump pillow and her eyes were slowly closing that a thought flashed through her mind. In the six months she had known her, Margaery had never let slip any real truths about her or her family, not like Sansa had.
Sure Margaery had come to her whispering that she had a secret she could only share with her, Sansa was sure her face would light up at that, but it was never anything deep or a hard truth like Sansa would share about Joffrey.
She'd pull her close, whispering in the shell of her ear, "Can you keep a secret Sans. I've had a crush on our sociology professor and its gotten so bad I'm going to do the 'drop the pencil on the floor trick' to see if he stares at my ass."
But they weren't really secrets. Yet Sansa had peeled back all the layers of herself to Margaery hoping for her approval.
So awaking at 7:15 to six missed calls from her mother, she knew she could no longer avoid her problems. So after downing a glass of pomegranate juice and the vial that had been left by the staff, she whined before finally plucking up the courage to call her mother back.
Before she could even hear the first full dial tone her mother had picked up. Obviously having her phone glued to her hand ready.
Oh I am in so much trouble, she cursed to herself.
“Jory is waiting outside the Tyrell town house. You are to go down immediately and get yourself into the car and come home young lady-" her mother’s tone was clipped, "and do not forget to thank the Tyrells for their hospitality.”
“Marg says she’ll help me to book a train home in two or three days after our shopping trip. It’ll take less time than getting back by car,” Sansa didn't like to plead, but desperate times and all that. Two more days in the sun and shopping sounded more marvellous to her than going home.
She heard Rickon screaming in the background before her mother sighed heavily, “It wasn’t a question. A car has already come to collect you once Sansa. So to the car, now.”
She wished for her mothers warm comforting tone to greet her with the way she had been feeling the last few months, but she guessed she deserved it really.
She put her phone and the rest of her things in her bag after hearing the abrupt end beep. She pouted knowing not to go against her mother’s words, instead walking over to the bed and shaking Marg’s shoulder.
“I have to go. Mum’s brought another driver to come pick me up,” she whispered it so softly, wanting to wake her gently so they could say goodbye.
But Marg just rolled back over, pulling the sheets over her head and giving Sansa a sleepy ‘mmphh’ in response.
Well, I'm was clearly going to be missed.
She dresses quickly, grabbing a croissant from the tray and made her leave before shouting a quick ‘thanks for having me’ over her shoulder. Can't forget that hospitality her mother had instilled in her.
Jory’s eyes kept flicking to her in the mirror and they were the eyes of disappointment. She slunk further in her seat, licking her fingers of the almond glaze that had filled the pastry and sighed heavily.
She knew they would be the same eyes she’d see from her father when she returned home.
He’d left her a voicemail yesterday- her eyes filled just thinking about it now. Her father wasn’t one to show emotion often, yet he had pleaded with her to come home all the same and that he could help her with whatever was wrong.
Instead she had chosen to just ignore him. As she had ignored them for the past several weeks and even after the incident happened which they had helped her fix.
It was noon when they had pulled up at the services, choosing to grab a bite to eat at the Crossroads café. She was flicking through her phone when she saw it, Marg’s new Instagram post. A picture of her and the bunch of friends from Kings Landing High- Joff and the rest of his footy guys included as well.
It was the caption that ticked her off, ‘Ready to kick off summer with only the best people’.
She couldn't help but scoff aloud as she scrolled through her last texts with Marg hoping she’d missed one from the morning off of her, she had not. She rolled her eyes chucking her phone in her bag moodily as Jory raised his brow at her.
“Girls. The teenage kind,” she huffed in reply.
Jory chuckled, “Enough said then”.
She moved her lunch around the plate some more, all before finally giving up and pushing her tray away, after losing her appetite.
“Head to the car and I’ll go get us something sweet from the bakery. Is lemon still your favourite?” Jory asked.
"Yep. But can I also have something with chocolate in it to. A lot of chocolate," she spoke before taking the keys.
Sweet treats would give her back an appetite and Margaery Tyrell clearly wasn’t worth giving up lemon cakes for. Although, she supposed she could message her first, but she didn't want to seem needy, Joffrey said it was a disgusting trait.
The closer they got to the Stark Estate in Winterfell the more the feeling of dread seeped further into Sansa’s bones. Worst case scenario, her parents would ground her for life, even though she was about to turn eighteen in less than a month.
She was 50% positive that Margaery might come up for a week in the break and see what the North had to offer.
She could picture it so clearly. Marg's distasteful gaze at the cloudy days filled with cold winds that occurred here even in the height of Summer. Maybe she was like 25% sure she might come up here to see her.
She turned to look at Jory again, "How much trouble am I in?"
She hated that. Asking how much trouble She would be in, Sansa was never the one to be in trouble.
She had tried so hard and for so long to be the golden child. Until she realised she never was or never would be in her parents eyes.
It may have also been the same time she visited her aunt Lysa in Kings Landing for New Years. Where she had bumped into Joffrey and decided she would badger her parents to death unless they transferred her to Kings Landing High to finish out her senior year.
"They were worried Sansa-" he paused giving her a sad smile, "we all were".
She turned her head sharply to stare at the hedges that lined the private road, which lead to the Stark Manor, in case they tears brimmed over. She didn't mean to let anybody down and make them worry. She hadn't meant to do a lot of things lately.
They reached the wrought iron gates at half past five and the sky was already starting to turn a deep blue. Jory gave her a sheepish glance and a ‘good luck’ before driving round to the garage once she'd left the car.
She nervously headed to the door up the cobble path that was illuminated by the soft glow of the lanterns in the lawn. She huffed to herself, here she was admiring the stupid lawn lights so she could reach the door even slower to face her fate.
She doesn't know what has happened to her. Who doesn't want to come home to their loving parents after being away at school for near on five months. Gods, how could it have been a whole five months since she's been home and three months since she'd seen any of siblings.
Another driver just begins to pull into the large front drive way, its light shining on the door handle for Sansa to grab at.
The words, Oh god. Oh god. Oh god, are the only thing repeatedly flashing through her mind as she see's what greets her as she enters into the foyer.
Her father and mother are both sporting judgemental glares and she wishes the floor would swallow her up.
But she can't deny how much she has missed them, even if they don't look pleased with her.
They don't do what she expects, there's no scolding, at least not yet anyway. Her mother simply calls out for Rickon, who comes bounding through to them with Bran wheeling behind them. She steps back to avoid being caught in the whirlwind that is her little brother, as he launches himself at their father.
She thought they were supposed to have grown out of this silliness by eight, or was he nine now she wasn't too sure, she had already been four when she stopped this nonsense.
Her heart ached to see both of them though, her little brothers who she used to help take care of when they were babies as if they were her dolls.
She remembers her mother laughing down at her when she had once tried to put a new born Bran in her own little dolls pram to walk him around the house.
How times had changed things between them, or maybe she had just allowed distance and Joffrey to. She felt splintered from them all, and it had seemed like the hardest thing in the world these past few months to just simply call them up and ask for help.
It's her mother who breaks their silent stand off, "Your bags are all ready and the cars waiting outside."
Wait.
Her mother was looking at her when she said that and gestured to several of her old suitcases waiting by the door.
She had just gotten here, they had brought her all the way home and now what, packed her bags for her to go again. Gods, parents were so confusing.
"Yay, yay, yay!" Rickon screams as he comes over to her, pawing at her coat to drag her over to where she see's his cases as well, which are parked up right next to hers.
"The drivers here to take you both." To say her mother was not from the North she certainly had the ice cold stare and voice down to a tea.
"To take us where?" She starts gnawing on her bottom lip. She doesn't like not knowing what was going on, why were they going in a car with suitcases and a driver she didn't know?
"We've decided to let you both go on a little holiday-" Sansa eyes brighten at that, all until her mother quietly mumbles out the last bit, "camping."
What on earth would make her mother think that Sansa wanted to go camping. She was clearly not outdoorsy and everyone knew it.
"Let us. You mean make us. I'm not going. And why is it just me and him?" Great she was home for all two minutes and in a sour mood.
Why couldn't they just yell how disappointed they were in her, then she could yell back, run up to her room to slam her door and then be left in peace.
"Hey, I wanna go and I wanna go now!" Rickon began to shout out, as he pulled his suitcase over to the door and opened it.
"Shut up Rickon, the grown-ups are talking," she hissed at him.
"No. You shut up."
That made her stand up straight in shock. Her eyes flicked over not to Rickon but to Bran at the outburst.
He never yelled and never at her. "Won't you just shut up. You're so ungrateful, don't you think I would love to go there. But look at me, I can't, but you can. So just shut up and go," he started to tear up at the end, she didn't know from sadness or anger.
And it was because of her. She didn't know how to talk to him after the accident.
She felt the guilt eat away at her again as he wheeled himself off down the hall. She should go after him and apologise, but she doesn't.
Her mother bends down and kisses Rickons forehead, she gives Sansa a sad smile as she says goodbye and goes after Bran.
Her favourite child, not you, the voice hisses in her mind darkening it.
Rickons fidgeting urges her father into motion, "I'm sure you'll enjoy it if you let yourself."
Sansa cuts him a sharp look, what did he even know about her anymore.
He shows her some mercy even at her harshness, "Don't worry, it's not the kind of camping in a tent. You'll be staying in a lodge by the lake, having bbq's around the camp fire-"
She gasps out suddenly, interrupting him. Dorne, they where going to Dorne.
She wanted to squeal out in joy.
How spending a couple weeks in the summer at the Water Gardens in Dorne was a punishment she didn't know. But they had actually done something incredibly right and cool for a change.
She tells him just that.
"Its for the whole summer Sansa and it's not at-"
She interrupts him again and he doesn't look happy, but its her birthday plans that have been ruined.
"But I'll be there for my birthday, I want to celebrate with Margaery and the girls. She promised me a big party at her home in the Reach," she's pouting like a two year old but she doesn't care.
She'd even start stamping her foot if she had to.
"Well, plans seem to change don't they. You'll do this for us after what happened," he gives her a pointed look.
Well, she couldn't argue with that. She agrees quickly so no further mention of the incident can be brought up.
"Fine. I suppose Marg probably won't mind meeting me somewhere else for my birthday for some sun, lakes and bbq’s. It should be fun away from you two nagging me all summer."
Oh, she's disappointed him again.
She sees her fathers eyes tighten up at her admission.
Her own widen in shock. She upset him. She didn't mean to, she doesn't want to hurt anyone, but she knows she won't apologise. Nobody said sorry to her when they did it.
"You best get going. You have a while in the car yet, here I'll help you with your bags."
Once they're ready and getting in, Rickon squeezes her father tightly before leaping in and snapping up the leaflet, all while excitedly yapping on about the things they’re going to do.
Her father turns to her, but she gives a simple goodbye and quickly jumps into the car, slamming the door shut. She shoves Rickon over into the back of the seven seater car, so she can have the whole of the middle to stretch out.
She doesn't turn her head towards her father, even as she feels his sad gaze burning into the side of her face.
After a few moments, he pats the side of the car to signal the driver to go and wishes them a safe trip.
As they pull away, she turns to look at him. Her eyes fill with tears as they both stare at each other. They both seem to watch the other all the way down their long driveway, even when their faces get too small and they began to blur.
She drowns Rickon out when he starts yammering on, she's good at that, she's had a lot of practice from blocking out Joffrey when he starts to rant at her.
He flits from one thing to another, hands flapping like the wings of a hummingbird. He'd chucked the leaflet on the floor and had started ripping all of his things out of his bag to get at his sticker book.
She scrolls through her social media before texting Margaery to inform her of the utter misery that has befallen her. She hovers over the messaging app for several minutes hoping to see the three dots appear for a reply.
No one from Kingslanding high had reached out to her since Joffrey and the whole debacle that had happened after.
She'd gotten through about half of Hoziers album, letting the deep timbre of his voice lull her, when she catches one of the road signs.
They were heading the wrong bloody way.
She informs the driver rather impolitely she knows, but hey she's tired.
He tells her that they're not. Their destination is North he tells her, not South.
The cogs in her mind begin turning before everything clicks into place.
She launches her upper body over the back seat and stretches her arm out for the leaflet, bringing it over to her so she can get a closer look.
'A Knights Camp'. A rustic and rural experience in the heart of the North for children and teens to get back into nature. Have fun exploring the famous Wolfswood and adventuring on the Long Lake, push yourself further and learn new skills under trained Camp Instructors.
She feels as though she's swallowed a bee.
Well then. All the visions of herself sunbathing on the golden sands, of exploring the ruins of SunSpear and dipping into the Water Gardens to cool off slowly began popping in her mind.
Her phone had no signal. It didn't stop her from redialling every time the call failed to try and get in touch with her parents.
How could they do this to her. She felt bitter tears gather in the corner of her eye, so she clenched her jaw closed. She was so tired of being upset all of the time.
She crumples the leaflet up in her other palm, sick of looking at the dreary state of the place in each one of the photos.
The camp was hardly popular. Not for people south of the Neck anyways. Sure northern children and teens often went their out of school term time, but not someone like Sansa. It taught things like how to start a fire, why the hell would she need to do that. There fun adventure days were things like hiking and fishing, as if she'd be caught dead doing that.
The people she grew up had actually found things like that fun, it was popular among the children of WinterTown High.
The people of the north were weird though. And she clearly took after her mother, who thought her twice a week yoga sessions meant a hard core fitness regime.
The people of the south viewed it differently, many using it to send their wayward children so they could be rid of them for the summer.
And by the old gods, did that make Sansa and Rickon like them. That's why they were going wasn't it, so her parents could be free of them and they'd get straightened out by the camp guards.
Every year Walder Frey often sent a whole army of children and grand children to use the camp as a babysitting service.
Or in case of the Tarly’s, who had sent their son Samwell many years ago in hopes of curbing his eating habits and to toughen him up. She remembers because his brother Dickon had told her at a college party and she hung on his every word.
She turns to Rickon as he begins talking, just not to her but at one of his games. He has the contents of his bag is all over the back seat, a colouring book with scribbles from when he got bored and stickers all over the roof of the car. Sansa sees the shine of stickiness on his face and fingers from the bag of sweets he’s devoured, least he’s being quite tapping away on his computer.
Its only two hours in and things went downhill, she thinks its lucky she's had peace for this long.
Rickon's moaning because his stupid computer is out of charge, he has no pages left to colour because he scribbled all over them and there's no snacks left.
She can't help but snap at him. She knows why she's being a bitch, Margaery's text had come through when she had gotten a few bars on her phone finally.
Marg: Poor you, having a drink for you, talk soon xxx
Maybe she was being a bit irrational, she doesn't know why she expects a bit more from her. She was too busy pre drinking and getting ready for a party from all the pics she had been posting.
Rickon looks at her tearfully and she sees the tiredness in his eyes. “I'm sorry," he mumbles out through a yawn.
She can't help but soften at him, she was seventeen and couldn't keep it together and he was only eight- or nine.
“It’s okay Rickon, I’m sorry as well. It's just because I'm tired, you look tired too." She gives him a soft smile, hoping to stave of any upset.
She thinks that although he's probably excited to be going camping for the whole summer, it didn't mean he wasn't missing their mother and father already.
"I'm not tired," he pouts out.
She laughs, looks like sticking ones bottom lip out at their displeasure is a shared trait.
"Okay, whatever you say. How about you come here for a snuggle though?”
She knows it will help Rickon, but it'll help her to. It had been too long since someone she loved had shown her affection and if she wasn't so stubborn she could have gotten one from her dad when they left.
Rickon huffs like he doesn't want to, but then unclips himself and kamikazes over the seat.
She belts him up again and lets him lean against her as she strokes his hair. Its not even a full five minutes when she can hear soft snoozes fall from his lips.
She wakes him softly when they arrive, trying not to poke the sleeping bear too hard.
She can see he's about to whine until he looks out at their surroundings.
She wishes she could see this through his eyes, maybe these dilapidated wooden huts looked like castles to him and the dark shimmer of a murky lake looked like the mouth of the deepest sea.
Once they are out with all their bags and cases a figure approaches from the main lodge.
Her hearts in her throat when she see's who it is.
Jon Snow. Robbs best friend, who has grown up with them all since they were babies. Her first kiss.
She blushes just thinking about it, the whole thing had been embarrassing. Not the kiss, the kiss had been sweet, what happened after was not. Her fragile, just turned sweet sixteen year old self had barely recovered.
Rickon is more than overjoyed for the both of them and quickly runs to him, trying to tackle him down by his legs.
They greet each other like long lost brothers.
She greets him like an enemy.
He looks to her smiling, she remains with her arms folded and chin raised.
"The cases are in the boot, I need to make a call," she walks away sharply, her hair whipping around to her other shoulder.
"Phones need to be handed over, you get access to them at the weekend." He never did take her shit.
"Don't worry it's just one call," she thanks her father for her stubbornness. But she won't be giving him thanks in a minute.
She stares out at Rickon as she listens to the ring. He'd wondered over to the sloppy mud, stirring it up with his hands until they were caked.
See, this is the kind of crap she didn't sign up for. Rickon needed a leash and she needed to be sunbathing in the South for summer.
"Yes Sansa?" the voice on the other end is airy and sickly sweet.
Oh damn, its her mother who answers her fathers phone. Catelyn Stark was fierce and she didn't crack in her resolve. There would be no pleading or begging to her in hopes she'd get to come home.
So she did the only other thing she thought she could do. Lash out in hurt and anger.
“You sent us off here. Well here I was thinking you’d actually cared sending us to the Water Gardens for the break, I bet you and father had a right laugh-" she doesn't even pause for a breath in case her mother answers back, "that’s it, ship your moody teen and uncontrollable child to the end of the world so you don’t actually have to deal with us now that we’re home. What great parents.”
Her mother doesn't respond for a long time, which makes it worse as it gives her time to digest all of the horrible things she said. It also allows her a moment to stare at Jon's shocked expression towards her at what she'd unleashed upon her own mother.
“I’m sorry if that’s how you see this Sansa. I hope you’ll change your mind and give it a try. We know the rules, so we hope to hear from you at the weekend. Now its late, you and Rickon get to bed. Me and your father love you both.”
She hates it that her mother sounds so understanding, she shouldn't be, Sansa was being awful and they all knew it.
She sniffles out loud with her reply, "Okay."
She shuffles over to Jon, handing him her phone. He gives her her cases as he takes Rickons and escorts them to their own cabin.
She's thankful its a private one, with two single beds and a shower just for them. She doesn't think she has it in her to handle a communal cabin.
She shouts at Rickon to stay over on his bed when he starts getting mud everywhere. She sighs heavily, this is what happens when you get lumbered with an eight year boy who was a wild savage at heart.
She pulls her cases on her bed, rifling through them for thick socks as her teeth chatter in the cold air of the cabin.
She looks over as Jon squats down at their fire place, after a few moments there's a small flicker of a flame and she sends a blessing to the gods for his kindness as the heat begins to fill the small space. He adds enough logs to see them through most of the hours of the night.
He helps lift Rickons case on his bed, telling him to get his muddy jacket off as he explains to her that they'll have to do it themselves from now.
"Do what?" She says dumbly, but her brain is too tired to try to make connections right now.
"Chop your own wood and light a fire."
She's had it. She's too tired and pissed at everyone and Jon thinks now is a good time to shovel more shit onto her plate. "Gods, what is this some slave labour camp."
"Its a skill you need to keep practising whilst your here and it helps to teach some independence," he's trying to be understanding with her but she can hear a slight sharpness in his tone.
"I don't think I like being independent," she states matter-of-factly as she sits down on her creaky bed.
She thinks she may fall asleep right then and there, but Rickon has other ideas as he launches the dollop of mud he still had in his hand right at her face.
All she can do is sit there as she feels a blob from her cheek drop onto her jeans, Rickon has the decency to look scared as she stares at him and Jon tries to hide his laugh in a cough.
Jon takes pity on her tired and now dirty form as he tells her to wait a few minutes for the shower to warm up.
She rises slowly and goes to the shower room just up from their beds. She looks at her tired reflection in the mirror, until that voice begins to stir in her mind pointing out how horrible and dark her bags look.
She brushes her teeth and takes her meds, hoping her usual nightly routine will help bring some normalcy to her.
While she washes, Jon stays with Rickon to help him get wiped up a bit and to sort through his things.
Once she's freshly clean and in her pyjamas she feels marginally better and is all smiles as she enters the room thanking Jon for his help as she see's Rickons already changed.
Its late he can shower in the morning, Jon says and she rushes to agree, to worn out to even think about having to help Rickon.
She hears her phone ping as she receives a text and goes to get it from her bag until she realises that she doesn't have it at all, its in Jons pocket.
She gives him a pleading look through her long lashes.
"One minute," he tells her sternly as he hands it over.
She wished she'd never bothered.
After all she'd told Margaery about Joffrey, after all she'd seen, there she was in the photo with her arms all over him.
And it was him who had sent it.
Joffrey: I'll pretend she's you.
She shuts it off quickly, giving it back and says how tired she is, as she tries to keep horrid memories from springing up.
Jon bids them both good night, saying he'll be here in the morning to wake you them for breakfast.
As he closes the door he turns back and mouths to her, "Is everything okay?"
She nods and tries to smile, it doesn't reach her eyes and she knows she hasn't convinced either of them.
Jons face has fallen and he looks as though he's about to come back inside again, so she quickly gets under the covers and turns away from him.
The door clicks shuts after a few seconds.
Rickon is fast off in dream land and now she's left with her own thoughts which go swirling in her mind at a mile a minute.
She's glad her and Joffrey are done, how many nights had she prayed for it to be over, but it didn't stop that voice in her mind. Am I so easy to replace?
And Margaery, she had said they were sisters and had fumed at how vile Joffrey was. How could she do that to me? Did she even care for me at all?
She wishes she were home. In her bedroom at Winterfell, falling asleep in her old flowery blanket knowing she was safe with a house full of Starks.
She goes to sleep in a strangers bed, in a place she doesn't know, with his voice echoing in her mind. You stupid girl.
And she was, too stupid to even realise that there would be consequences to her actions.
Of course they sent her North. She wanted to laugh at herself, as if she thought they would ever send her to Dorne.
This was a family place. Her father had come here with his siblings as a boy, Robb had come here with Jon and even Arya had been the past few years before getting that summer sports scholarship for Bravos this summer.
Sansa drifts off uneasy, but that had been the way for the past few months now.
She dreams about lions chasing her though the woods that night. She gets caught in the bushes and snagged on it's thorns. The lion puts his heavy paw on her chest and she cries out. She feels its heated breath on her face as its jaw opens.
She knows its going to eat her, but then something stops it. Something saves her, albeit temporary, from being devoured right that second. The lion gets distracted at the howl of a wolf getting closer to them. She hears its panting breath as it rushes forward, drawn to her cries, she see's the trees part for it as it comes-
The knocking on her door rips her from her slumber. She's still feel half asleep as she stumbles to the door opening it to reveal Jon smiling at her.
A/N- I hope those who have read this far have enjoyed it and there aren’t too many mistakes. Sansa seems a bit bitchy at the moment, but she has her reasons which I hope you have seen hinted at a little bit here.
We’re aware that a lot of us are angry right now, that you’re mourning, that perhaps you feel cheated and robbed, but you’re not alone!
Jonsa is our ship, it belongs to all of us, to our family. We need to fight for it, and we are calling out to all of you to help us!
As a wise woman once said: “Sometimes canon is wrong,” but we’ll always have fanon. We have each other, and this fandom has so many amazing writers, artists, gif makers and other content creators.
So that’s we are inviting you to go back to where it all started, to our love for Sansa Stark and Jon Snow, and the potential we saw in them to be each other’s happy ending!
We would like to celebrate our love for Jonsa during the Jonsa: A Dream of Spring Event from June 16-22.
How do I participate?
Post your fic / art / edit / moodboard / gifset / fan mix / fan video inspired by the prompts below on the relevant day, and tag @jonsadreamofspring. We’ll also be tracking #jonsadreamofspring.
We encourage you to also post your work on AO3 if possible, and add it to the Jonsa: A Dream of Spring collection!
Prompts
Day 1 (Monday 16th) seasons / songs / quotes
Day 2 (Tuesday 17th) wolves / traitors / bastards
Day 3 (Wednesday 18th) winterfell / essos / beyond the wall
Day 4 (Thursday 19th) stone and snow / colours / soulmates
Day 5 (Friday 20th) au day: modern / historical / movies
Day 6 (Saturday 21st) parallels / king and queen / memories
Day 7 (Sunday 22nd) free day
You are free to use the prompts as you see fit. Use only one, combine them or create something for all three of them!
If you have any questions, our askbox is open!
Special thanks to @flibbertigiblet for the stunning graphic!
Let’s celebrate the Jonsa love together!
- Funda @reservedlisting, Howie @israfel00 and Jen @sansaswildlinglover
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Sansa should have been having the time of her life celebrating graduation with her friends in Kingslanding.
But her parents had other plans and instead sent Sansa with her feral little brother to a run down camp in the North. A place were even in the height of summer the winds blew cold, all in an attempt to get their two unruly children straightened out.
Whatever, Sansa was not lost and this wasn’t about to be one of those stupid summers were she would embark on a journey of self-discovery.
That was not her.
No way.
But she did suppose this place had a way of seeping into your soul and these people no matter how much she ignored them had started to chip away at her heart.
Still, definitely not self-discovery. Maybe more of a rediscovery. Remembering who she was before the likes of Joffrey and Margaery had set their claws in her.
These were the nights were she found Jon, were she reforged her bond with Rickon, and met people that were fierce and proud of who they were.
"Jon, she's to be your wife", Sam spoke slowly almost to calmly gauge any response.
"I don't- There's been a mistake. I did not pay and send for a wife".
"Well technically you didn't but I did for you". Samwell looks pleased with himself. Jon does not and neither does she.
They catch each others gaze, locking eyes before they flit back to Samwell quickly.
"W-Well you see.. er... you was talking about starting to make investments in the town-"
"I meant buying lands to grow my own food or taking up another craft. Not this". He says the last part side eyeing her and she tries to keep her face devoid of any emotion.
He didn't send for her, but surely he would take her. What other options did he have in this small town.
"Jon", Samwell spoke with a soft tone, obviously trying to ease him into the idea.
But one look at Jon's stern face and he stopped trying and remained silent. They all did for a few moments until it seemed Sansa would have to be the one to get things in motion.
"You do not want me." That was strange to her, felt funny. She did not like the way it rolled off of her tongue, it tasted sour. Especially looking at Jon, who she thought that if he just smiled at her, it would be the sweetest thing.
All men she had come across had wanted her in some way because she was a princess. They either wanted to; wed her, bed her, hurt her, be a fancy trinket on their arm, to put a babe in her belly or to use her for her claim to the North.
Jon with his wild hair and hard set face was to be her saviour, her second chance and he would not have even known it. And what, one look at her and he did not want her. Her many lessons did not seem to help her now. She could not get a read on him, on how to judge him, approach him and twist him to her will.
She wanted to cry. She would not. But her eyes filled to the brim all the same, so she kept them wide and open without blinking, in case they rolled down her cheeks.
She looked to them both, feeling a slight wobble of her bottom lip.
Jon's face was like stone, his tense jaw gave him a sharp edge. Was he so unmoved by her. What man did not want a wife, a wife like her. Perhaps being in a town without women had made him forget about the comforts and joy they could bring.
That she could give to him.
She shifted to look at her surroundings, bleak and unknown. She couldn't survive here, not without friends or those who looked out for her like in the South.
"What would I do? Where would I go?" She felt the eyes of the last few men who were still milling around the port, the ones who had purchased no wives, stalk her movements.
Maybe her luck had run its course. But she was a wolf and that meant she had a little bit of fight still left in her. She would have to see if she could find some way to melt the icy fortress that Jon seemed to be.
She blinked rapidly, letting the tears slip down her cheeks and fall. She hoped to move him in some way and if this did not work well, tears aren't a woman's only weapon.
She wasn't quite sure if she could elude to something like that. She had seen many things in her young life, but the thought of intimacy always brought a redness to her.
And she was sure that he would see right through her, as some silly girl playing dress up.
She would stoop low enough to tears but nothing else.
"She's here now Jon". Well at least Samwell was on her side and took pity on her at her tears.
"I see that. And what am I supposed to do with her?"
"You can't exactly leave her here alone." At least one of these two men were making sense.
"I'm sure she could stay at the tavern and Davos could take her back south on the next ship."
She cried out no rather sharply. "I can't go back there. I could never go back not with-".She cut herself before she lets all her secrets burst from her lips. "I came all this way," she pleads.
"Fine. I ask again, what am I supposed to do with you then Jeyne?"
Was he really so unbending to her?
"You are to show me around the town, where our new home together could be-" if you stopped being such an idiot- "maybe we will share a drink in the tavern before you escort me to the hall, were me and the rest of the ladies are all staying for the night".
Perhaps he just needed a firm hand. Like her mother so often used to do with her father. Sometimes men need to be told what to do as if we were their mothers.
"I guess I could show you around whilst Samwell sorts this mess out."
She was a mess was she. At least his resolve was slipping. All it took was one crack for the rest to give way.
"I could be a good wife to you. I can help with repairing your clothes, tidying up the home, you could have somebody to take care of you for once, help wash your hair and warm your bed."
It is not a long list and Sansa knows it. She was taught to be the Princess or Lady of a large castle. Not a low born wife of a commoner, she had no idea of how to cook or clean.
His brow is furrowed, he looks as if this is a life or death sentence taking on a wife.
His mouth appears as if to open several times before he finally comes out with it, "I don't know how to be a husband."
She gave him a small smile that she hoped was reassuring. His voice had been edged with hesitancy.
She grasped his arm, gripping tight at the muscle as he tensed and turned them towards town.
"Then we will just have to figure it out together after we wed in the morn." She hoped to soothe him softly with that but all he says in reply is to murmur a quiet 'perhaps'.
She struggles to keep a smile firmly in place as they walk through the streets together.
He takes her bag over his shoulder silently and offers nothing else in response to her. At least he didn't protest, he looked too deep in his own thoughts to.
They had walked around a few buildings still in silence, he obviously felt no need to inform her of what anything was in the town.
She looked around to see Shae and her intended, who she had named as Bronn on the ship, blatantly rub her backside as he showed what appeared to be the candle makers shop.
She looked back to see her escort who was still stiffly stood, it would seem he would need a bit of coaxing.
"I'm afraid I do not know your occupation Jon." Sansa thought it was the best place to start, make him feel important by asking questions about him. It would also inform her of what kind of life and status she would have here depending on his craft.
"Blacksmith". Her maybe soon-to-be still proved to be a man of few words in about himself, most of the men she had come across had always wanted to show off. At least he was straight to the point.
The fact that he was just a blacksmith was a little hard to swallow, even though she knew her life had turned completely around and that she would not be marrying a Prince or a Lord and reigning over a castle and its people. Still she must make the most of her situation.
"That must be very hard work, but also very rewarding. Arming all the guards here that protect the town. I think it must be one of the most important jobs here" She wasn't sure, but best to try and stroke his ego. But she didn't think he had one.
Jon was not like most men she had come across and would probably not respond to the flattery she shower Lords with to gain favour.
She didn't know a lot about blacksmiths either, just that they were filthy and would most likely have rough hands from constant labour.
She gazed upon him, but he appeared quite clean, a smudge of dirt behind his ears. Perhaps when they wed, she could help to bathe him of all his filth and troubles and get at those smudges he didn't seem to know about.
And on the calloused hands, images assaulted her mind. Jon's rough hands as they slid up and parted the soft flesh of her thighs.
His eyes tightened at her, "I suppose it can be."
Right, best to shy away from such thoughts and keep on with the tour.
"And where is your shop within town?"
Instead of a speaking in one or few words her betrothed takes them on a left turn and stops in front of a building. She see's the weapons lining the walls and the soft embers flickering from the still lit forge in the centre.
She knew with his occupation that she should not expect a cleanly workplace, but the thick blackness was rather off putting. If she met Jon here whilst he worked she imagined she would walk away with an inch of coal dusting her.
She cleared her throat, a slight blush adorning her cheeks. "And where will we be staying. Where will we live?".
"I live as well. Above the shop."
I not we. He keeps distancing the idea of a them.
"Oh". Well now she was a woman of few words.
That was to it then, a bed above a filthy and constantly smoking shop.
They continued walking and now she was the one who felt no need to speak.
Would Jeyne have been happy with this? She was a stewards daughter yes, but the stewards daughter of Winterfell. Jeyne had grown by her side and had been taught by the same Septa as the princesses. They had giggled together, as they discussed what it would be like to marry one of the Lords whenever they visited Winterfell.
Jon breaks her from the rather sombre cloud in her mind. "There is still much work to be done in building Boltonspoint, I hope they did not paint to rosy a picture."
She remembered to soften her face before looking to him, it would often fall to a sour looking one without her realising.
"Better than some places I've been." And so, so much worse than a lot of them to, she thought silently. Best not to insult his home though, so she just smiled sweetly at him.
"This place might be unkind to a girl like you." Perhaps she would stop smiling so sweetly at him, if all he was ever going to see when he looked at her was tear stained doe eyes on a porcelain face.
She thought he would like her kind smiles after being surrounded by all these gruff men, but it appeared not. To him she was breakable, he clearly didn't see the steel underneath.
Maybe, one day she may tell him of what she'd been through, when he proved himself worthy of her secrets. Her mother and father had known everything about one another, they knew what the other was going to do or say before they even did it themselves sometimes. Their love was deep and strong and she selfishly wanted that for herself.
They're interrupted in their next steps by a drunkard stumbling over a bucket and sprawling out in front of them.
Jon quickly helps to lift her over the man so she doesn't have to trudge in the mud at the edge of the path. He had done that without asking, helping to keep her from the filth, perhaps there was hope yet.
Jon lets out a small chuckle, "Get yourself back home Will. Before you fall asleep where you lay and suffocate in the mud."
The man lifts his face, half of it now caked in brown slop and nods in agreement as he tries to stand clutching at his gut in discomfort.
Jon lets his hands fall from her sides, but she doesn't stay disappointed as he takes her arm this time. "Let us move quickly in case we see anymore of Will come pouring out".
She looked at the man slipping to his feet in distaste. Although she was not sure she could blame him, in a town this small there seemed little else to do for some.
Her waist were Jon had grabbed her firmly still tingled lightly, would her lips tingle if he kissed her too? They never did after Petyr kissed her.
She shook her head, she was being silly again. He had merely squeezed her corset in too tightly and the blood tingled as it rushed back.
At least that man had reminded her of something.
"Where is the tavern here?" Her mind had quickly gone to Gilly at the sight of a man too far in his cups.
"Just over there", he points towards another bleak wooden building that looked more like a horses stable.
When she turns to Jon again he looks at her in a quizzing manner.
"Me and Gilly, Crasters daughter, became close on the ship. And he well, appeared to be from first appearance-" oh how to put it lightly "a bit of a drunkard and a brute".
Jon had a solemn look on his face at the mention of Craster. Maybe, she was right to worry.
"'Aye he's had a problem with just about everyone in this town. But there his daughters, his own blood, they'll be fine."
Oh Jon, how naive of you. Don't you know everywhere in the world they'll hurt a girl regardless of blood.
He leads her forward in a move to distract her and to soften the crease in her worried brow.
"You look very weary from your journey". They both slow a little, as her arm slowly falls from his. He at least had the decency to look embarrassed at his comment.
"Oh I don't mean that you appear anything but pretty Jeyne, what I mean is, I'm sure you would like to rest." Maybe the reason he spoke so little was because he was poor at it.
He seemed to time it all rather perfectly though, as they stop in front of the Great Hall, were she had told him all the women would be staying for the night.
He's to take his leave of her then, already.
He removes her bag from his shoulder handing it over to her.
"I'm sure you liked to retire for the afternoon. And I'll see you tomorrow?"
The sound of uncertainty rang clear in his voice at the end. What a question indeed. Would he even see her tomorrow in here to wed.
He gave a small, tight smile and took his leave.
She was stumped. She had been expecting a man that would be throwing her over his shoulder to take. Or a man like Bronn who could not keep his hands off of Shae.
Not a man so cold and indifferent. How did she not effect. It was unfair, for he surely effected her.
She walked inside, her bag slipping from her sagging shoulders as she bumps into Ser Davos.
"Here already m' Lady?"
She doesn't even try to be gracious and smile, just watches Jon's retreating back.
Davos watches to, "He's a strange on I'll give you that. Too righteous for his own good. But I meant want I said, he's an honourable man, he'll be good to you."
And therein lies your mistake Ser Davos, she thought, no-one truly knows anyone.
Did Jon even know himself know if he was going to be here tomorrow, he didn't sound certain of anything.
"Ser Davos, just to humour me then. When do you next leave here to go back to the North?" Better to be safe than sorry, especially in a town like this.
"Two days maybe, after the weddings and merriments of course. And I'll put money on it that they'll be no sign of any ladies on board my ship this time".
She moves around him so he can leave and keeps her back to him so the conversation can end. She's had it with small talk, she needed time to think.
Once he leaves, the Great Hall holds only her. All the other ladies still being shown around and being taken an interest in by their future husbands.
She wanted her mother. She wanted her mother to comfort her like when she was a little girl. To hold her in her arms tightly, to brush out her hair and tell her that if any boy did not like her then they were stupid.
She idly lounged on the chairs in the Great Hall, emptying and repacking her bag, plaiting and unplaiting her hair.
She thinks that being alone to think was a bad idea and she might actually have needed the company. Her mind was running away with her, often to dark places.
She felt scared and she did not want to feel scared anymore. This uncertainty settled uneasy in her belly.
She was gazing out of the window to the setting sun, watching the gates of the town nearly swallow the deep orange haze, when a few of the women came in together.
Sansa tries to shrink in her chair as she see's who among the women had come in. It was too late, eyes had already been set upon her.
"Typical you'd get the most good looking one." Violet sneers out at her, "At least it brings me comfort that he clearly doesn't want you. Did you see him walking so ram rod beside you, he couldn't wait to take leave from your side".
That girl made her stomach churn and not just because she was cruel.
No, it was because Sansa -the old Sansa she reminds herself- would have probably been friends with her.
She was blonde, slight, with a pretty face and a gentle voice. She had often sang for them all around the campfire on their journey North. But every rose had its thorns and that gentle voice had a sharp tongue, that she would use against anyone she took a dislike to for any reason she saw so fit.
She felt tongue tied because she knew their was truth in it. He wasn't comfortable when she took his arm and he had walked her in a quick circle around town and brought her here as quick as he could.
"You heard what Davos said on the boat. Jon is one of the finest men here. He cares about her honour." She looked to Ros, who had come to her defence and gives her a truly warm smile that she doesn't feel has graced her face since Margaery.
She was glad for women like Ros, a woman that was fierce and strong and reminded her she was strong too. If Jon didn't meet her here tomorrow then she would survive. Survive like she had been doing all these years before him.
It was time Sansa stopped being such a bystander and let people talk about her like that. She was no longer a bird trapped in a gilded cage.
No. Now she could leave.
She stood holding out her arm for Ros. "Jon showed me where the tavern in town is. Shall we take our leave of here to go see Gilly and have a drink?"
"I'd be delighted Jeyne". They both smile too sweetly at Violet on their way out.
They make idle talk on their way. Sansa really tried to stay focused and ask questions about Ros' man Mace Stone, a bastard from the Vale, but she was easily distracted.
Where could she go if this town didn't work out?
She swallowed heavily and pushed the door open for her and Ros to enter.
There was no wine here, only ale. Sansa had to sip it slowly in fear of bringing it back up again at the sour taste it leaves at the back of her throat.
They used some of the money given to them in parcels from the King for going to wed these men. She may as well put it to some use.
She knows she shouldn't drink too much, but she couldn't help it. She sees now why Cersei always had a glass of wine in her hand. It was definitely helping in soothing her mind.
Gilly had come over to serve them both times, but only stayed for a short time for pleasantries to be exchanged, before she flitted off again.
When she had sipped the last dregs of her second cup, the place had began to fill as the sky darkened.
None of the high born ladies had entered. Probably not wanting to sully themselves at such an establishment, had she still been Sansa Stark, she wouldn't have stepped a foot in here either. But then, she had been prissy and mean throughout her girlhood years.
She giggles aloud in a tipsy stupor, remembering at how she had once thought a boy like Joffrey, with a pinched face and worm lips, had been handsome.
Shae asks what she finds so funny as her and Bronn join them. She shakes her head and hides her smile behind her empty cup.
Bronn purchases them all another drink. In the time it takes her to get through half of hers Bronn is on his third and had treated them to a song that Sansa tried hard not to blush at as she listened to the words.
Her belly is warm, her mind clear and she thinks that the ale will help her get off to sleep easily tonight. She feels good, that is until Jon and Sam come in together, looking to be in a heated conversation.
Jon glances her way but goes to walk past.
She panics. Maybe after he dropped her at the hall he sought out Samwell. They had probably spent the hours trying to find away to palm her off, that bastard.
Its the wine that makes her speak up.
"Jon, will you not join me- us?"
He pauses for a long time, not even bothering to look at her and her wide doe eyes. "Me and Sam have come in just for one drink. We don't want to bother you."
He doesn't even give her a chance to say that it was fine, she wanted him to sit beside her, he just walked away and Samwell dutifully followed.
He had basically dismissed her and she sits down hard as though she were dropped.
Once he's seated with his back to her, she tries to go back to enjoying herself but she can't.
How can one person, one that she doesn't even know, affect her mood so much.
It was obviously the drink.
She says she fine when Ros asks but they all can see she's not. She can't seem to hide it with a few ales in her.
Mace comes and joins them, sitting next to Ros. She watches for a few minutes as both couples begin to start giving lingering looks to one another, Ros bites her lip at Mace and Bronn begins stroking Shae's shoulder.
Its not that that makes her leave or when she keeps staring hard at Jon's back willing him to turn around -he doesn't- its when she sees Violet smirk at her.
So she dashes for the door as gracefully as she can, murmuring a goodnight over her shoulder.
The cold air makes her feel better once she gets used to standing after sitting for a long time drinking.
She gets a little way up the path before Shae loops arms with her and gives a simple statement, "He's an idiot."
She laughs in agreement as they walk just west of the tavern along the edge of a small lake that was slightly frozen around its edges.
She's reminded again just how much she likes Shae. She doesn't feel the need to fill the silence, Sansa just snuggles further into her side.
They pause as they hear panting behind them. For a second she hopes it Jon.
Its not.
Its Samwell, who is finding it hard to catch up to them. Her heart plummets, and she curses herself for it.
"Sorry about that. I said I wouldn't mind joining you. But well Jon, he can be a bit- well lets just say he wouldn't know a good thing if it hit him in the face or know a beautiful girl that was right in front of him." His smile is kind and she takes pity on his red cheeks by asking him to join them a little for a walk.
She should feel guilty for taking both of these two away from others they were with, but she doesn't.
They have looped over halfway around the lake when they all slow their movements at a muffled cry.
She's about to open her mouth to ask what it could be, when Shae puts a hand over it, shushing her.
Shae moves her ear towards the sound and her and Samwell follow her lead towards the source. As they get closer they hear more muffled cries and the sound of fabric tearing.
Shae's shoulder are set firmly as she strides forward with purpose. She looks behind her to Sam and finds it odd that out of the three of them, this large man is the one who looks nervous.
The reflection of the moonlight helps them see clearly as they reach a sparse patch of land by the lake.
Things slow down in her mind when she see's the women wriggling beneath someone.
Its Gilly. Poor sweet Gilly, who was doing her best to shove at the figure on top of her. She can't see who the man is, their face hidden beneath a hood.
She is sure both her and Sam are thanking the gods for Shae who is the only one of them who can seem to move.
She launches herself at the man screaming and starts pounding on his back before trying to drag him back by his cloak.
He hardly budges.
She turns to Sam with wide and scared eyes trying to get him to do something, she knows she is useless. How many times had she herself had to have been rescued.
Samwell approaches and reaches down almost as if he's trying to help the man up off the floor and not pull him off. He gets shoved hard to the floor for his efforts.
She wonders if this one man could kill them all. They all appear to be a bit useless as Gilly starts shouting out.
But its then that Shae pulls a knife from up her dress and deeply slashes the man across the arm. He hisses in pain and hits Shae across the face and knocks her to the snow.
She rushes over in the middle of both women once the man dashes off into the woods as he seemed unable to stop the bleeding without his other arm.
Samwell wraps his cloak around Gilly, whose sleeve had only appeared to have been ripped.
Thank the gods.
Sansa uses her handkerchief to dab at Shae's bleeding lip.
They hear shouts from the tavern and Bronn is the first one to emerge and rush over at the commotion.
He looks to Shae with a split lip and a blood dipped knife, the only one of them who is unshaken over what has happened.
"I think I'm gonna like a wife who knows how to handle herself, but best to giv' that here. If yer caught with it, I'm not gonna be able to find out just how much yer can handle." He grasps the knife from Shae, wiping it on his trousers and tucks it behind his back.
The rest of the tavern is there then, Jon among them.
Everything seems falls apart in steps.
The crowd grows louder over the confusion over what happened, people shove at each other to get to the centre.
Jon has moved forward as well, but seemingly to put himself between both groups, as Gilly looked to be stunned into silence and Sansa can't find her voice either.
Samwell can't get his first few words out without muddling them, so it seems to fall to Shae to put the mass at ease.
"A man was attacking Gilly, Samwell chased him off." Bronn yanks her close to him, tucking her under his arm, so the attention moves away when they can no longer see her.
Jon seems to take command, as the Guards who are there for the towns protection, don't seem to quick to bring about justice.
Shae points in the direction the cloaked figure ran off in, and Jon barks orders at the armed men who were too slow to move.
The crowd still hasn't settled, thoughts spoken aloud of who it could have been. But no voice was as loud as Crasters when he breaks through and see's Gilly, weeping with a ripped and muddy dress on the floor.
He seems to be confused though to. For his eyes go from Gilly to Sam, who is sat beside her looking up at those who all stare down at them.
She see's the look turn on Crasters face. She's seen that kind of look he has in his eye many times. She feels he'll have blood on his hands before the new day begins.
"You bastard. What did I say would happen if any of you touched one of my daughters," he bellows down at Sam, looking as though he were a mad dog frothing at the mouth.
Craster reaches for the small axe tucked into his belt and goes to bury it in poor Samwell's skull.
A/N- I hope you enjoyed the chapter, I had a little break from writing this after the finale. I decided to read all the fix-it-fics to make me feel better.
“On one of my last days ever on the set and I had a moment by myself where I just walking in my Sansa costume onto the grounds of Winterfell and I was thinking, ‘This is one of the last times I will be here as Sansa in my home’ and it was this emotional powerful moment,” - Sophie Turner
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