@jonsaexchange Round Six - Creator’s Choice
Jon as Flynn, Sansa as Rapunzel.
“I've been looking out of a window for eighteen years... dreaming about what I might feel like when those lights rise in the sky. What if it's not everything I dreamed it would be?”
“It will be.”
"And what if it is? What do I do then?”
“Well, that's the good part I guess. You get to go find a new dream.”
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After the defeat of the Night King, Sansa and Jon settle in Winterfell as King and Queen in the North and wait out the winter. They welcome three children into the world, each named after people they loved and lost. Years later, winter finally breaks, and with the spring they welcome their fourth child.
A Student’s Life for Me by @acourtofhopeanddreams rated G (on AO3 here)
Naughty by @captainbee89 rated M (on AO3 here)
The Last Touch of Winter by @fedonciadale rated T (on AO3 here)
The Old Gods Stir by @lady-and-lemoncakes
Riddickulus by @tayl0crow rated G (on AO3 here)
Perdition by @uchihabat rated M (on AO3 here)
In the darkest night, a song so sweet by @valofwinterfell rated T (on AO3 here)
no net ensares me by @visenyastargaryen unrated (on AO3 here)
Fanart
The Blood of Winterfell by @bravegentlestrong
Modern AU by @broodybluebird
Jon/Sansa in the Vale AU by @mimiofthemalfoys
Walking straight in molto cantabile style by @nessataleweaver
Tangled AU by @sardoniyx
Thank you so much to everyone who took part. We hope you’ll join us again for our seventh round. Signups will open in January, so keep your eyes peeled for information!
My jonsa exchange gift for @bravegentlestrong. I hope you like it! Book canon, slightly au, in the sense that this is what I hope happens in Winds Of Winter.
@jonsaexchange
Summary: The old gods stir, and they won’t let Alayne rest. Peacefully at least. She dreams of the north, and of Sansa Stark’s half-brother, Jon Snow.
-
The dreams began shortly after her journey down to the Vale with Mya and Sweet Robin. Ever since she heard that wolf howl, she has dreamt of the north. It has called to her in ways she cannot explain.
She did not pay these dreams much mind, at first. They were rather boring. Jon sitting at his desk, meeting with other brothers of The Night’s Watch, and sleeping.
Then, they began to pique her curiosity. She ran through the snow, and could feel the excitement surging through her. She felt the wind whip against her cheeks. Jon praised her, played with her, and she felt an overwhelming affection for him she never experienced before.
Her vantage point in these dreams was strange. She could almost swear she was Ghost. When she saw his white paws, she became certain she was dreaming she was Ghost.
It frightened her. There was a realness to these dreams that caused her to wake up in a cold sweat. She had dreamt of Lady before, but those were Sansa Stark’s dreams, and they were never like this.
She dreamt of Jon fighting, and of Ghost clawing desperately at a wooden door. She dreamt of Jon lying motionless on a table. Anger and betrayal overwhelmed her. They were not her emotions. They weren’t even the emotions of Sansa Stark. She dreamt Jon Snow was dead, and Sansa Stark’s heart broke. He was all Sansa Stark had left in this wretched world. He could not die. After, she went days without dreaming of him. After seeing him night after night, the absence was noted. She missed seeing him. She took what she saw happen to him as a warning. She had to protect Jon however she could.
Petyr wanted to sell grain for the impending winter. She would use it as an excuse to travel to Castle Black. Jon would most likely not even recognize her, especially with her hair colored. It would have to be handled delicately. This she knew.
Petyr was against it at first. He claimed he did not feel it was safe for her to travel. Eventually, he realized she was no longer a little bird he could keep caged. Arrangements were quickly made for her to travel north with Mya. She refused to travel with anyone else.
The journey to Castle Black was long and arduous. It began on a ship out of Old Anchor, and they procured horses once they arrived in White Harbor. Their supplies ran low, and ice clung to their cloaks. Her hair lightened. She learned a great deal from Mya, while trying to contribute with what she could offer. They worked well together. She may not be practiced in the hunt or tying snares like Robb and Arya were, but she remembered different plants, and the ways they could be useful. She knew simple healing. She remembered the stars. Mya also knew how to navigate, but the north could be tricky. She leaned on nights spent in Winterfell’s godswood with Sansa Stark’s family. Falling asleep by the fire each night reminded her of this, and it comforted her.
Concerned for her horse, she walked beside him as they approached the gate. She pet his mane, anxious. She had a letter from Petyr explaining who they were, and their purpose there, but she feared what would happen if Jon were to turn them away.
“Open the gates!” A man shouted, and relief flowed through her.
She led the horse into the courtyard, and searched for Jon.
Mya walked beside her, and took in their surroundings, wary.
A couple of men took charge of their horses, and she presented another the letter from Petyr after pleasantries were exchanged.
“I beg your patience, but it might be some time before you have an answer.” The young man informed them. “We’re between Lord Commanders at the moment. I reckon that’d be who’d make purchasing decisions.”
She felt her chest tighten, and despaired at what may have happened to Jon. She was too late, she feared. She hadn’t dreamt of him in in far too long, and this was why. She stared over the young man’s shoulder, and willed the tears to leave her eyes.
“I was told Jon Snow is Lord Commander.” She managed to murmur.
“He was.”
Her lip quivered, and something brushed against her legs. She gazed down at Ghost’s familiar, white paw scratching at her dress. She knelt down to pet him, and soon she burried her face in his fur. She held the direwolf until a raspy voice gave her a reason to look up.
“He never takes to anyone like that.”
Jon was alive. Maybe not alive and well, but alive. He was always sullen, but he looked dreadful. He wasn’t wearing the black she expected him to be. He was wearing a doublet similar to the ones he always wore, but he was absolutely not the Jon who left Winterfell. His hair was pulled back into a matted mess, he hadn’t shaved in ages, and his eyes looked weary. The years have not been kind to him, she realized. There was also the large gash above his eye, but that was somehow less concerning. He folded the letter, and carefully placed it in one of his pockets.
He stared at her. She wondered if he recognized her. If he knew she was not here to sell grain.
She brushed the snow from her dress, and closed the space between them. She wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head against his neck. Overjoyed that he was alive, and filled with gratitude at having someone like him in her life again. They would protect each other, this she knew. She had never believed anything more:
He was taken by surprise, but eventually his hands found her back, and he embraced her.
“You know each other?” The young man wondered.
“Yes.” Jon smiled, and squeezed her arm ever so briefly. He nodded, but it was impossible to read his meaning. “Lord Baelish was an old friend of Lady Catelyn. If none of you mind, I’ll help them with their things, and find them suitable accommodations.”
“Thank you.”
“We must catch up.” He guided her with his hand while Mya followed. “Certainly we have much to tell each other.”
Dear @nessataleweaver, I hope that this little college AU romcom styled fic makes you smile and warms your heart!
Jon's student's life is more boring than boring, but it's all about to change when the beautiful red haired girl that all of a sudden appears in the small town in the little of nowhere happens to be his dormmate's sister.
“Enjoy your meal, Mister Lannister.” Jon nodded and forced himself to keep smiling while Tywin threw the door in his face, just like every night. Luckily not all his customers acted like this and even more luckily he had delivered all meals for today and could finally return to his dorm, to the warmth and his astronomy homework.
When he had started his studies a few years ago student’s life had all seemed very exciting. He had heard stories about the wild parties, the illegal drinking and the making friends for life. He had most of all heard that most people found their true love while being in college.
None of it had happened. Even among students astronomy was considered boring, which meant that his classmates didn’t even wanna be found anywhere near a wild party and none of them would ever cross the line of illegal drinking. And that meant that the other students had simply stopped inviting them.
Even Robb Stark, his dorm mate, had stopped mentioning the parties as soon as he had discovered that Jon was not exactly the most interesting conversationalist to introduce to his football friends when they were drunk. Or actually, Jon was the most interesting conversationalist, which was exactly the problem.
If he had known that the real student life looked like this, he might have considered finding a normal job right away. That normal job couldn’t possibly be worse that delivering meals to elder people who had too much money and no one who cared about them anymore.
He pulled his hat over his dark black curls and needed three attempts to get his gloves on. His student loan was barely enough to cover his rent and food, so he didn’t have money for a motorbike or a car. Which meant that he was still stuck with his cargo bike, both in summer and winter.
It really was not as exciting as he had once imagined it to be.
But Jon didn’t know that his entire life was about to be changed.
Just before Jon stepped on his bike to ride back to campus, a big yellow bus stopped at the bus sign. Normally the bus, that once a day brought people from this small middle of nowhere to the nearest big city and once a day made the trip backwards, arrived here empty, but today a girl carrying two suitcases stepped out.
She wore a white hat over her strawberry blond, or was it even red, hair. The hat barely covered her ears, but maybe the hat was not supposed to be functional. The dark black coat keeping her body warm at least looked far more expensive than anything Jon could ever pay for. Not to mention her bright red boots reaching her knee caps with a logo on it that in itself was already worth more than Jon had ever earned in his life.
But it was her smile that really made him lose his grip on his bike. Just when his jaw dropped, the cargo bike slipped from his hand, fell in the snow, bruised his ankles and tipped him over. It all happened within a few seconds, but it didn’t really happen in silence.
The pretty red haired girl looked up and with her suitcases in her gloved hands she rushed towards him, kneeling down next to him as soon as she’d reached him. “Is everything alright?”
Jon laid flat on his back in the ice cold snow with bruised ankles, but he still nodded. “Yeah, yeah…” He sat up and pushed his glasses a little further on his nose. “I'm fine.”
The girl furrowed her eyebrows, but she didn’t say anything and just watched him. “Do we know each other? For some reason I have the feeling we’ve already met, but I have no idea where and when.”
Jon shrugged and he stood up before he reached out his hand to help the girl stand up too. “I'm pretty sure I would’ve remembered it if we’ve met.” He didn’t let go of her hand, but instead shook it a little awkwardly. “Jon, Jon Snow.”
“O!” Her eyes widened and a smile spread across her angelic face while she pulled her hand back. “That’s it! You must be THE Jon!”
“The Jon?” Jon swallowed. All of a sudden he was not sure anymore if this girl knowing him was a good or a bad thing. Did he have a reputation? Were there rumors going around he knew nothing about?
The pretty girl rolled her eyes. “Are you now telling me that my brother forced me to listen to all his stories about you, but never mentioned me in a conversation with you?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and cocked her head. In a weird way it was cute and attractive at once. “I’m Sansa, Sansa Stark. I’m here to spend the holidays with my brother Robb. And, if I’m not mistaken you’re his dorm mate Jon.”
Jon wasn’t sure if this was the right moment to let out a sigh of relief or not. At least there was no weird story going around that was most likely not true, but he was not sure what Robb had told his sister about him.
And where that normally wouldn’t have mattered, it now seemed to be one of the most important things in the world.
“Only good things, I hope?” Jon swallowed and he scratched the back of his neck.
He and Robb were great friends and he couldn’t have wished for a better dorm mate, but he did know that Robb sometimes thought he was boring or too intelligent for his own good.
Sansa licked her dry lips. “You know how Robb wears his heart on his tongue, but over all he pictured you as a very brave and intelligent young man.” She grinned. “One who doesn’t drink because he’s not yet twenty-one. One who doesn’t smoke because it increases the risks to catch countless of life threatening diseases. And one who has a job that actually benefits people in our society who barely get attention.”
Jon left out a chuckle, partly because the whole fact that she seemed to know exactly who he was while he had no idea who she was made him feel uncomfortable, partly because strictly everything she knew about him was somehow correct. “I sound kinda boring.”
“O no!” Sansa raised her voice and shook her head. “That's absolutely not how I’ve always interpreted it!” She placed a hand on his shoulder and it felt surprisingly comforting to have her touch him. “It’s actually refreshing. There are already more than enough men in this world who think the key to masculinity is drinking too much and talking as many girls as possible into their beds.”
Jon rolled his eyes. “If this speech ends with but you’re different, it sounds like it walked straight out of a Jane Austen book.”
Sansa’s smile brightened and Jon felt his heart skip a few beats in his chest. “Robb never told me you are into literature too.” She cocked her head. “You're getting more and more interesting with every word you speak, Jon Snow.”
For a moment Jon didn’t know what to say. He felt a shiver, one of the good and pleasant kind, rolling down his spine and his entire skin tingled. If this really had been some kind of Jane Austen book, he would’ve known the right thing to say. But he wasn’t in a Jane Austen book and nothing even remotely good crossed his mind.
Instead he eventually decided to change the subject entirely. “So, you’re here to spend the Christmas days with Robb?”
Sansa nodded. “And with you, it seems. I actually thought you would go home to your family, like most students do, but I’m sure Robb won’t mind me inviting you to our dinner too.”
Jon bent his head and all of a sudden he saw his cargo bike still lying in the snow. He had almost forgotten about it. Quickly he bent down to grab his bike and once it stood up again he made sure to hold it firmly this time. “Yeah, if Robb doesn’t mind, I’d love to come over.”
“You're coming over then. I don’t even care if he minds. No one should be alone with Christmas and especially not intelligent and charming young men like you.” She winked and a pleasant warmth spread through his entire body.
Even if he had not worn a scarf, hat and gloves right now, he would have stopped noticing the cold. Who could be bothered by snow and wind and ice, when a beautiful girl like Sansa Stark delivered one compliment after the other? Who could be bothered by winter, when a pretty lady like Sansa Stark was there to warm your heart?
“So…” He cleared his throat and coughed. “How are you gonna get to campus?”
In summer time it was a nice walk from the city centre to the campus, but with all the snow and cold right now it would be a long and nasty one. Especially on those high heeled boots Sansa was wearing.
“I was planning on calling Robb to come and pick me up, but…” Sansa looked at the bike and raised her eyebrows. “If you have better ideas, I’m all ears.”
“I could…” Jon looked at his bike, at the pretty girl and back at his bike. “You can put your suitcases in the cargo and jump on the back?”
It was not as comfortable and warm as a car, but it would save her some waiting time. And it would mean she would be very very close to him and forced to hold onto him very tightly.
“That sounds like an excellent idea!” Sansa pecked his cheek, but before she could see how his cheeks colored a bright pink she already reached for her suitcases and threw them in the cargo. “I'm glad we’ve met, Jon Snow.” She waited until he swung one leg over his bike and stabilized it even more. “And I can’t wait to get to know you even better. It’s going to be a wonderful Christmas time, I already feel it.”
Jon smiled and he took a deep breath when she jumped on the back of his bike and wrapped her arms firmly around his waist. “I hope you mean it’s gonna be a great life.” He murmured, but the wind did carry his words to the girl on the back of his bike anyway.
And Jon maybe couldn’t see it. But she smiled. She smiled brightly and let her head rest to his back while she already envisioned their wedding day.
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Time for gift exchange - The Last Touch of Winter - part 1
So it’s time for @jonsaexchange! My gift got way to long..... Therefore I cut it in six parts/short chapters, but will post it here in three parts. Also on AO3. And it is a bid sad, but I did aks my giftée if they would be o.k. with a sad ending... So here it is my gift for @acourtofhopeanddreams . I really hope you like it. I play a little bit with the possible repercussion of Jon’s resurrection! It’s all told from one PoV. Major character death, you have been warned!
“The trick is not to think about what you saw for the future. Think about anything else. Look at the tree outside. Study its leaves. Look at your hands, follow the veins in your hands with your eyes. Concentrate on how your hair feels. Anything will do.” Rickon still heard Uncle Bran’s voice as if he was still alive and standing beside him, teaching him about how to be the Raven. “Remember, cautious guiding is what you want, not hitting people on the head with what will happen.”
Rickon studied his half-brother King Torrhen. The dark curls he had inherited from his father had a shine to them and his lashes cast a shadow on his cheeks. Torrhen was surprised at Rickon’s suggestion and looked at Rickon and his Lord Hand in dismay. “What do you mean a meeting of the grandchildren for mother’s nameday? Mother wants to see all of them? Even little Sam?”
Rickon just looked at his taller half-brother and raised an eyebrow, while Tyrion Lannister, the hand that had served three monarchs and was incredibly old, shook his head and voiced his impatience. “Your mother does not know that she will see all of them. Lord Jon wants to surprise his wife.”
Rickon concentrated on schooling his features to be as neutral as possible. Drip, drip. The noise that had accompanied him since he first had seen that his mother would die. He thought hard about his memories of Winterfell and prepared about delving into them to persuade Torrhen. Sometimes it felt like he had no connection to that little boy who had strolled through the halls of Winterfell before he knew what a Three-eyed Raven was and sometimes it felt like it only had been yesterday. Sometimes he wondered how his happy childhood could seem so far away and if he just imagined that it had been all laughter and joy, even with the threat of the Walkers.
“It would be great to visit Winterfell,” Torrhen admitted, “but Darra will not like it.”
Rickon could see that Torrhen surpressed the sigh that was about to leave his mouth. Rickon knew that all was not well between him and the Queen, but Torrhen never spoke about this with anybody. Somehow it all had gone downhill since her miscarriage. Travelling would be good for them.
“Spring is almost here, it won’t be too cold.”
“Not too cold. It will be cold enough to let a man’s water freeze while he pisses.” Tyrion snorted.
“I could leave Darra and Sam here in King’s Landing,” Torrhen mused, ignoring Tyrion’s comment.
Rickon just shook his head. “All the grandchildren,” he insisted. “Your father wants all of them.”
Rickon did his best to look Torrhen straight in the eye when the King scrutinized his face looking for clues, if this was important. So very important, Torrhen. He concentrated on the colour of Torrhen’s eyes, the eyes he shared with his half-brother, the blue eyes of their mother.
“Lord Tyrion could manage the realm in my absence,” Torrhen finally said.
The Lord Hand hand gave Rickon a scrutinizing look, his sharp eyes locking into the Raven’s gaze. Rickon gave him a smile that said nothing. He is older than mother and Jon. But he will die only after his whole generation is gone. He wondered how Lord Tyrion would feel about that.
After a while Tyrion turned and said: “Actually, I think I might join you. I haven’t been to the North in ages, and everything is quiet. It is a good opportunity to deliver my regards to your lady mother in person.”
Rickon wondered if Tyrion suspected something.
“Who will be acting in the king’s stead, then?” Torrhen asked his Hand.
“I would suggest you give Yoren Baraetheon a chance to prove his worth. He will take over my job soon, anyway.”
“I thought, he was on a tour to see the Free Cities with his parents?”.
“Not any more,” Rickon interjected. “He’ll arrive here tomorrow, without Gendry and Aunt Arya though.” Uncle Bran had never spilled anything about the future, but Rickon did on occasion. To blurt out unimportant things helped him to handle the pressure.
This time Torrhen made no attempt to hold back his sigh. “Did I ever tell you, that you get on my nerves, Lord Raven?”
Rickon grinned and bowed. “Repeatedly, your Grace.”
“It might be a good idea to be away from King’s Landing for a time. And the children should see Winterfell again. Even Darra might like it.”
As everytime when he tried to guide the future as Uncle Bran had called it, the tension left him, when a step was reached. Rickon dreaded some of the things he would have to say. But I will see Winterfell!
---
They ran into some bouts of bad weather on their way from White Harbour to Winterfell. In King’s Landing spring had already come, but here in the North the whole landscape still dreamt under a white cover. The little delay only added to Torrhen’s impatience to reach Winterfell, and one day Rickon had to restrain him, when sleet had begun to fall. Queen Darra was miserable, and the children became cold and in the end the King relented and called for a halt in a cosy inn. Torrhen then did his best to make sure his wife was warm, Rickon had to give him that, but as always, his consideration came just at the exact moment, when his wife had already given up. Her face of surprise always made Rickon smile and shake his head at the same time.
When they reached Winterfell, the sun stood high in the sky, but the day was still frosty. Torrhen was so impatient that he stood up in his saddle and then urged his horse forward.
“Race me to the gates” he called and Rickon spurred his horse. To the dismay of the Kingsguard they galloped on.
Torrhen was first, and he led his horse through the gates at a reckless speed. The welcoming party was not set up yet, but Torrhen did not care. He jumped from his horse and unceremoniously ran towards his mother and gathered her in his arms. Rickon could hear her musical laughter and his heart lifted and happiness descended on him like a ray of sunshine.
Torrhen almost lost his footing when another person bumped into him and joined in the embrace and he became invisible for a moment in a swirl of auburn hair streaked with white.
“Alys! I didn’t know I’d meet you here!” Torrhen hugged his sister.
Then Benjen was there and Rickon’s twin Eddard. The Raven jumped from his horse and joined them. Somehow, they were all laughing, and talking until Eddard interrupted their high spirits.
“Torrhen, you have to ride back again to the gates, so I can welcome you properly as is fit for the king.”
Torrhen gave an exaggerated gracious wave of his hand.
“If Lord Eddard insists…”
“Of course, I do. I did not drill the whole household for your arrival just to have this go to waste.”
“Where’s father?” Torrhen asked, his voice suddenly strained. He stealed a glance at his Lord Raven, but Rickon was caught up in the joy of the moment and for once did not attempt to school his face.
“There was a minor case of thievery in Wintertown, and father thought he could deal with it before your arrival. He’ll be here soon, I’m sure.”
Alys shoved them both towards their horses.
“Now, your grace, Lord Raven, get your arses back on your horses and take care to make a proper arrival.”
Torrhen and Rickon mounted again and made to join the royal party again. Torrhen rode to his wife’s side.
A Harry Potter/ASOIAF mash up for round six of @jonsaexchange and presented to the lovely @mimiofthemalfoys - enjoy!! xo
The transfiguration classroom is buzzing with nervous excitement as the students line up to challenge a boggart. Sansa had taken meticulous notes throughout their lessons and felt fairly confident in her ability to defeat the boggart and earn some house points for Slytherin. Her best friend Jeyne Westerling gets behind her and nervously fiddles with her wand, “I should’ve taken you up on your study offer.”
“Don’t fiddle with it Jeyne, you’ll blow us all up.” Sansa steadies her friend’s hand and then gives it a reassuring squeeze, “You’ve got this.”
There’s a sudden tug at her back and it makes her spin around to face the front of the line, “Watch it!”
Jon Snow’s curly head turns around and he swallows before stuttering out an apology. “S-sorry Sansa. I just, I must’ve, I misstepped.”
Sansa’s face softens at his embarrassment but before she gets a chance to forgive him and his obvious nerves, Professor Mormont clears his throat. “I wish to remind you all of your studies. The boggart will transform into your fears and you must only shout your spell. No harm will come to you.”
Jon’s no longer facing Sansa but she can feel the fear radiating off of him in waves. What the hell does golden boy Jon Snow have to be so scared of?
The first few students go ahead of them and it’s hilarious to watch Samwell Tarly’s boggart transform into a giant furry spider. So far each student has been successful in defeating their fears individually without any help from Professor Mormont. Which seems to only make Jon Snow more rigid as his turn comes closer and closer.
Finally, Jon stands before the boggart as it shape shifts magically before the class. In apprehensive bewilderment, Sansa joins her classmates in looking around as the room is swallowed with complete darkness, and a small rocking chair appears beneath a shining spotlight. There’s a muffled sound of adults arguing followed by a piercing child’s cry. Jon Snow holds his wand up with a shaky grip only to be challenged with a booming, “HE’S NOT MY BOY!”
Jon immediately drops his wand to his side and begins to back away as the voice gets louder and louder.
“TAKE HIM AND GET OUT! LEAVE! LEAVE! LEAVE!”
Sansa looks warily to the Professor who is completely occupied with his own wonder. This is unlike anything the other student’s had made the boggart produce. She steps beside Jon and raises her wand, “RIDDICKULUS!” Sansa screams over the thundering male voice.
The light in the room instantly returns and the boggart swiftly begins to shift in preparation for Sansa. She looks to her left to check on Jon, but he’s disappeared, and Professor Mormont calls after him, “Jon! Jon Snow! Get back here!”
Everyone breaks into scoffs and soft chuckles at Jon’s reaction and cowardice.
“Golden Gryffindor!” Theon Greyjoy says loud enough for the surrounding students to begin laughing loudly.
Professor Mormont is quick to scold the class for laughing and refocuses everyone on the task at hand. Sansa gives her fellow Slytherin a hardened gaze before turning to face her fear. Her heart is heavy as the class goes on. Even though she should be watching in amazement or giggling alongside Jeyne as Theon’s boggart presents as a beautiful woman, all she can think of is Jon’s panting when the man’s voice had become clear.
When class is dismissed and she heads to eat lunch, her eyes search for that familiar head of black curls. She pays more attention to Jon Snow than she’d care to admit. He’s two years older, plays quidditch, has a snow owl named ‘Ghost’, and pretty much sticks with his Gryffindor friends.
Likewise with Sansa sticking close to her Slytherin girls. It’s not like Sansa means to isolate herself in her house, it just sort of happened. When she’d been a first year riding into Hogwarts she had been so certain she’d been a Ravenclaw like her mother. When the sorting hat had placed her in Slytherin, she looked to her older brother in wide eyed shock. Robb watched in disbelief from the Gryffindor table as she walked over to the cheering students of her new house.
It turned out to be a perfect fit. Over the years she had met a lot of cool and fun witches and wizards, and this year Slytherin is in first for the house cup. Jon’s mishap in Mormont’s class had set Gryffindor back another ten points which only pushed them further ahead.
During lunch, she can’t help but glance around while Jeyne and Mya nag on about the upcoming O.W.L.s.
Where is he?
“Sansa?” Mya gently nudges Sansa’s shin with her shoe beneath the table. “Are you alright?”
Sansa clears her throat and takes a quick sip of water, “Fine. I’ve got to get going.”
“Going?” Jeyne furrows her eyebrows at her friend while Sansa stands up and straightens her robes, “Where? We have a while before-”
“I know Jeyne!” Sansa gathers her books and begins to walk backwards, “I’ll meet you by the library!” She swiftly heads out of the Great Hall before her friends can offer up their company.
The hallways are relatively empty as she searches the campus. In all honesty, she has no idea where someone like Jon Snow would hide. Going to his room would be too obvious, wouldn’t it? But after scouring the easiest places, she decides maybe the only way is to try and track down where the hell the Gryffindor common room is.
Sansa swears she remembers her older brother Robb and younger sister Arya talking about a painting? But there are so many paintings! Her eyes hopelessly search over the walls as she paces around the castle.
Just when she’s about to throw the towel in and decide it’s none of her business anyway, she hears mumbling coming from around the corner. Slowly, she sneaks down the hallway, careful that her shoes don’t announce her arrival. When she pokes her head around to peer down the dark hallway she sees the end of a wand light up and Jon’s familiar voice casting lumos to illuminate the area around him.
“Jon?” Sansa whispers and watches him drop his wand to his side like he’s been caught.
“Sansa Stark?” His voice is almost shaky.
She takes it as an invitation to join him, and so she quietly takes a few steps before taking a seat on the floor beside him. Even through her robe and sweater, she still feels a chill when she rests her back against the stone wall. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”
“Yeah, about that…” Jon scratches at the back of his neck and glances up at the ceiling for a couple moments before looking over to her, “Thanks for your help.”
“Sure.” Sansa pulls her legs in close to her chest, “Your boggart was...different.”
the rest won’t fit! the entire post is on AO3 under my name Taylocrow. Happy holidays love! I hope you like it! continue reading here:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
my gift for @uchihabat in this round of the @jonsaexchange! This is based very loosely on Jane Eyre, because I love the setup for the story so much!
Jon Snow’s entry to Winterfell Manor was on perhaps the windiest night of the Scottish autumn. He blows in on foot, after dusk, as the carriage he rented would only take him so far as the main road. The manor loomed above him in the dark, tall and foreboding.
He knocked on the side entrance specified in the letter he’d received, and waited. He’d written ahead from London with the date they could expect him, though Jon could not have expected them to have waited up this late. It is after a few minutes spent shivering on the step that he hears shuffling beyond the door. When it swings open, he’s greeted with the a warm light and the now-familiar Scottish burr of the highlands.
“Ack, my boy, you must be freezing in your shoes!”
“I’m Jon Snow,” he introduces, gladly surrendering his bags to the servant boy who steps forward to claim them. “The new tutor.”
