all that’s left are your bones
Chapter: 2/? Pairings: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark Summary:
A raven flies North.
The King of Westeros has need of a Stark once more.
- or -
A reluctant king must learn to rule.
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Now a different king sat on whatever was left of the Iron Throne, but Sansa continued to armor herself with words as weapons, and her fabrics as her shields. Never mind the fact that Ser Brienne - and the three knights she had insisted on bringing along - made her feel safe. Never mind the fact that Sansa had irretrievable proof that Jon Snow Targaryen would do anything for his family.
He was the king. It was a fact that Sansa would not easily forget, not when she had fought so viciously, for him to be acknowledged as such. She knew he bore her little gratitude for it, but Sansa had decided long ago, that how her family chose to regard mattered little to her, so long as they were alive to regard her at all. Perhaps it was another one of the sickly sweet lies she told herself to swallow it down, and let her drift off to sleep at night. Sansa told herself many lies, and had begun to forget where they began and ended. It was possible that she did care what her once bastard brother thought of her, and loathed whatever resentment he might hold in his heart toward her. But Sansa didn't allow herself to dwell on it. Jon Snow Targaryen was the king of the Six Kingdoms.
But he was no longer her king.
And yet, here she was, leaving Winterfell behind, and riding South once more. Sansa had thought, in a moment of wild rebellion, born from anger and pain and rejection and sorrow, to swear to herself that she would never ride South again. Vows and oaths had never done Sansa any good. The only person to ever keep a vow to Sansa, was the woman riding at her right side. And few men or women were as good as Ser Brienne of Tarth.
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