#lyannaes

After that his next snafu had come when Jon had tried to think of a place to hide. At first Robb had said that he should press it between the layers of cake and cremé of the lemon cake he had brought from Margaery’s bakery- Sansa’s favourite. But the cake had been to soft and the ring had sunk right through, clattering onto the plate and nearly rolling off. So he had to come up with an alternative plan.

Jon had cursed himself, thinking that if he had thought to bring either Lady or Ghost he could have clipped the velvet box to their collars and had the dogs help in his proposal. Then he supposed he could just ask her point blank, pulling the ring from his breast pocket and offering to her from down on his knee. But he had wanted to do is more theatrically than that, especially after Sansa had been so smitten by Gendry’s proposal to Arya.

But now she wasn’t coming at all and all the weeks he had spent planning didn’t matter.

Jon ran a hand over his face. “I’ll give you a ring back in a minute.” he said. “Erm, let me….Let me phone her and see what’s going on.”

“Let me know.” said Robb, hanging up on the other end.

Before Jon could even dial, or take a long and much needed pull from the lukewarm beer he had sat upon the table, his phone rang again. “‘Lo?” he answered, frustration bubbling within him. 

“Hey sweetie.” said Sansa, sounding tired and frustrated. She let out a long sigh. “I’ve had the worst day.”

“Tell me about it.” said Jon, trying to sound at ease.

She sighed again. “So yesterday Professor Baelish emailed to ask if I could come in early today, to which I agreed because I just wanted to get this bloody test over with. So when you dropped me off I went to the café to get breakfast, only to find it was closed, then I walked back to his classroom only to find that he was not there.” she said. “Didn’t have his phone number to ring him, didn’t want to call you back to come get me because then you’d be late for work. So I sat there for two bloody hours before he arrives saying that he meant to come in early tomorrow, Saturday-“ she said for emphasis. “And not today. But because of his mistake he let me take it today.

“And then because I was two hours behind I didn’t have time to eat lunch before my second test and my stomach was rumbling like a mountain lion the entire time I was trying to do the bloody thing. So embarrassing. Professor Lannister took pity on me and gave me a banana, bless him.”

“That sounds awful, love.” said Jon. Would that he could solve all of her problems for her so that she would never have to face another trial or tribulation again.

“Unfortunately I’m not finished.” She said, Jon urging her to continue. “And you know how my fieldwork requires interning under another teacher. So Tyrion set up an internship at a grammar school, which is usually a blast for me. But today was art day.” She let out a long sigh and Jon could practically hear the sound of her sneaking a cigarette on the other end. “Long story short, I sat in paint and a little boy decided to use my shirt as a napkin.” She let out a fake sob, rubbing her temples. “Gods, I just want to come home. All day long I’ve been dying to eat pizza and watch The X-Files with you.”

“That does sound amazing.” Jon admitted. It was much more low-key than the four course meal he had planned for them. It was much more them.

“What time do you think you’ll be done?” he asked.

“An hour, maybe an hour thirty.” Said Sansa.

“Well how about this-“ Jon began. “In an hour I’ll come get you under the guise of some emergency. I’ll pick up pizza and some lemon cakes on the way so when we get home all you have to do is put on your pyjamas.”

“What did I ever do to deserve such a boyfriend like you?” she asked.

“I ask myself the same thing every day.” 

“You ask yourself what you did to deserve a boyfriend like me?” she teased. “I know I haven’t shaved yet today but geez.” 

“Har har.” He said sarcastically. “Maybe you wouldn’t have such a manly voice if you didn’t keep smoking those cigs.” 

A pause. “How did you know?” 

“Call it a sixth sense.” 

She laughed. “Fine, fine. I put it out.” She said. “But you’d need one too if a little girl blew her nose with your trousers.” 

 “Yikes.” He agreed. “Is this a grammar school or American Horror Story: Children?”

“I’ll have to get back to you with that answer.” She said. “Mrs. Martell is calling me back in. We’re grading paintings.” She rolled her eyes. “If I see another painting of me sitting in paint I’m going to scream.”

“See you in an hour.” He chuckled. 

“Don’t forget the pizza.” She said. “Love you.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” He teased, telling her he loved her in return. Jon worked quickly to pack everything up, regrettably forking over the money for the dinner he had planned and taking it all as take away, planning to bring it back to their flat for Robb and Arya so at least someone would get some pleasure out of it.

By the time he picked up the pizza and drove to Sansa’s grammar school it had been nearly an hour and when he phoned Sansa to tell her she picked up on the first ring, waiting eagerly for him. She practically ran out to him, vaulting onto the back of the bike and fastening her helmet in the same moment she tapped his shoulder to signal that he drive off.

Their flat awaited them when they arrived, Sansa taking the pizza, Jon handling the beer and her satchel. The front door was unlocked for them, probably Robb having left it open on his way in earlier in the night, and when Sansa walked in she found the house was lit up with what seemed like a thousand candles.

“What…” she began, turning to look questioningly at Jon only to find that he had sunk to his knees in the doorway. “Jon?” she questioned, half thinking that he had fallen. “What’s going on?”

“I planned an etravagent dinner tonight.” He said. “Four courses, a private band.”

“Gods, Jon I’m so sorry.” She said.

He waved her off. “Don’t be.” He said. “I just wanted to do something special for you. Something to tell you and show you how much I bloody well love you.” She smiled, a pretty pink blush settling in her cheeks. “I-“

“Wait, let me finish this before I lose my nerve.” He interrupted, licking his lips. “I have loved you for so, so long. I never thought that I would ever kiss you, ever even tell you that I loved you, let alone date you for two years. You’re my soulmate, Sansa Stark, and every day with you is just…the best day, and I don’t even want to think of spending even a day without you.” He said. “I let everyone tell me how I should do this. Where it should be, what I should be wearing, what I should be doing. But none of that really mattered. All that matters really is that it’s you and me forever.”

He paused to take a breath, fishing around in his pocket for something. He could see the way Sansa’s eyes glistened in the flickering candlelight. “So-“ said he. “Will you marry me?” he said. “So that as long as we both shall live we can stay the bloody hell home, order take away, and watch The X-Files.”

A tear rolled down her cheek like a pearl and before he could even stop her she was on her knees before him, hugging him so tightly that he fell off balance on his knees and fell sideways, taking her with him. they fell in a tangle of arms and legs and kisses, showering each other with kisses and hugs and tears.

“Of course I will.” She whispered. “Of course, I will.”

Jon kissed her, their first kiss as a bethrothed couple, and just then was able to see the half hidden faces of Arya and Robb poke out from behind the couch. “You can all come out now, she said yes.” Jon called.

The Lannister ships had been burned to ash at the start of the battle, keeping any ships from escaping with news of the sack. Next had come the battlements, where crimson garbed knights had been burned alive like meat being roasted on spits.

Sansa had heard rumors of the Dragon Queen for years, Joffrey’s obsession with the woman passing to his younger brother after his death. And after the Kitten King had plummeted from the Red Keep’s window Cersei had become all the madder, the Mad King incarnate, her ear to the earth for any news of Daenerys’ armies that may have infiltrated the city.

To combat the silver queen’s approaching armies Cersei had burned down everything she could get her hands on, sending caches of billowing green wildfire exploding across the city, demolishing not only the enemy queen’s armies but her own people. Sansa had been able to hear the screams even from miles away.

In the back of her mind she had hoped Jon would have come for her. She had dreamed of him, tall and gallant, dressed in the black garb of a man of the Knight’s Watch, his sword outstretched and pointed at Cersei’s vile throat. But she knew it had been a fantasy, just another naïveté of a girl who dreamed that the wolves of Winterfell would be together once more.

Even now, even in the midst of a siege large enough to consume the largest city in Westeros, she could remember the day Jon had departed from Winterfell. He had gripped her hands so tightly, the small bushel of winter roses he had picked for her held tightly in her free hand, as thought Sansa had hoped that if she did not let go, he would not leave her.

“You should stay.” She repeated.

He was warm against her as they embraced, their bodies both so awkward and ingrown. “I must.” He said. She could feel his jaw moving against her temple, his lips brushing against her cheek lightly, the blush that filled her face hot against his skin. “I’ve got to…You deserve a Lord or a Prince. Not a bastard.”

“You’re not a bastard.” She countered, looking at him firmly, bristling. “Not to me.”

He had smiled at her. “I have got to make something of myself, San.”

“And when you do?”

“I’ll come back to you.” He promised, dropping his head. Their kiss was chaste and soft, as inexperienced as that of any young maiden.

“Promise me.” she insisted, lifting a hand to cup her cheek.

“I promise.”

Sansa had held him to it, for years after they had parted from Winterfell. Even when she had been taken captive by the Lannister’s she had hoped that Jon would join her brother’s army and they would come for her. But Robb was killed and Jon still at the Wall. And Sansa had given up hope.

It was hours before the siege was lifted, the Lannister army dwindling from a wave of crimson to a spot of blood among a fire strew canvas. It was not long after that the remaining knights threw down their swords and accepted defeat, Dany’s army dragging Cersei into the Throne Room from where she had hidden in the catacombs beneath the city.

By the time Sansa was found and freed from the locked chamber the lioness had long ago been imprisoned, stripped of her crown and her titles and finery and locked into the Black Cells where she had once kept Lord Eddard Stark. It gave Sansa a sick pleasure to think of such an irony.

Sansa stood back as the Dragon Queen’s army filed in and out of the chamber and the silver haired woman took her seat upon the Iron Throne, fawned over by those remaining royals who had not fled or been killed in the ensuing battle.

She tugged at the hem of her gown, feeling uncomfortable in the ill fitting and worn fabric, made for a woman far younger than she. Cersei had gotten great pleasure out of seeing her wear the gown, knowing the she-wolf’s beauty was disguised by the old dress.

“Lady Sansa.” A voice called.

A look of confusion flickered over Sansa’s face. She wondered who had called her such a thing, the title not having been used in the years after Eddard Stark’s death. She turned, feeling her jaw fall slack upon its own accord.

A smile flickered at the corner of her mouth. She could feel her eyes prickle with tears she tried to hold at bay as she watched him come forward. “I…” she began, her voice cracking. “You came back.” Even bloodstained and fatigued, his eye crusted in blood and flowering with a dark bruise, Jon smiled at her. He nodded and reached behind his back to offer something to her.

The stinging of her eyes grew even more as she saw a bushel of blue winter roses in his gloved hands, their petals bruised and stems limp. He grinned, his eyes dancing with the reflection of the fires that burned to celebrate the Dragon Queen’s victory. “I promised, didn’t I?” said he, smiling as she took the flowers from him, tears spilling down her cheeks.

She was engulfed in his arms in a matter of moments, caring little for the blood and sinew that had spilled down the front of his jerkin. Sansa could feel his heart hammering against her, his arms tightening around her middle, pulling her as close as he was able without uniting their bodies into one.

Jon pressed a kiss to the top of her head, humming softly to her, “I told you I would always come back for you.”