Prompt: Sansa and Jon do end up together anyway, but Sansa has had, just as Jon, past experiences that were not abusive or tragic.

So, this one has been inspired by Happier by Ed Sheeran, because... I don't know it just gave me the healing vibe I wanted to give this one and it's also from a POV I never explored too, hope you enjoy!

I guess you look happier [In another's arms]

He's just returned from beyond the Wall, his mission had lasted for the better portion of the last three years, the phone-call few and scarce in between. He had managed to see his brothers and his cousin but a couple of times during a couple of video-calls he managed to make. He's excited to go back home, to embrace his mother and feel his father's strong chest welcome him home, his brother's excited welcome shouts, his cousin soft, gentle smile...

... still, before he catches the next flight to the Eyrie Winged Knight Airport which will depart tomorrow morning from Tohrren's Square he has some time to kill.

He had spent the better part of his training at Castle Black, in the North, manning the Wall before his first missions beyond, going back and forth between his new home and his ex-girlfriend's home.

Red of hair and blue of eyes, with a smile so bright it could rival the sun and an heart so gentle and kind it could heal the whole of the world unrest with one touch. He sighs and enters the bar, sitting in a corner, safely away from the main crowd.

He could join a few of Nights Watch recruits he can see at another table, it's mostly new faces, but he recognizes the black clothes they wear and the way they boisterously laugh and joke with each other. That's the moment he sees him.

Jon Snow. Last time he had seen him, he had been a lanky boy, all knees and elbows, as if stretched thin, lean and swift with his movements during a spar. Intelligent. His grey eyes were always attentive and never loosing a move. He had privately thought he would made a fine watchman one day, though he could be a petty drunk and a mean, little shit when provoked. And he had a temper that could rival a wolf. He is the only one of the group of recruits he knows and he debates if making his presence known.

Ironically it had been Jon to introduce him to his now ex-girlfriend.

She had been his best-friend's sister and she had been involved in all a series of charities so when she and her sister had made the voyage to Castle Black they had stopped by to spend some time with Jon, it had been that way that he had met Sansa. That way he had met the girl he had hoped to marry.

Jon had been fiercely protective of her as well, when they had started going out he had sit him out and whilst he had never been intimidated by the boy, that time his presence had been enough to keep him still on his chair and listen quietly to the series of terrible pain Jon would inflict to him — helped by the girl's sister and siblings — if he ever broke her heart.

Sansa had, had some... displeasing experiences before. And Jon had not hidden his glee in telling him he had been the one to inflict on them the punishment for having harmed Sansa. He had been glad she had such fiercest defenders both in and out her family, for when he could not be with her.

He had never had any intention of breaking Sansa's heart. She had been his sweetheart and for a long time he had dreamed one day they could have the life. They could move back to the Vale, from where he hailed from, he would make her the mistress of his house and give her all the happiness she deserved in the world.

Fate had, had different plans. Life had, had different plans.

The age gap between them had not been insurmountable, but big enough that perhaps whilst wanting the same things idealistically, they were on different pages. Sansa had been barely eighteen and he was already twenty four. By the time of his first mission had rolled around he was feeling ready.

Sansa... not so much.

It is a testament, he guesses, to her capability of discernment that she knew when to draw back. He did not realize it until later, well after the sting of their break off had passed to realize the real fear that had filled his hopes had not been that she would say no — as she did — but that Sansa would say yes and embark on an experience that was beyond her grasp, and grew to resent him further down the line.

Instead Sansa, sensible, reasonable Sansa had not let the romance of it blind her to the real problem between the two of them. She had told him, time after time — the nearest his first mission grew — that she was scared of what the prolonged distance would do to them.

He had been much blinder. Convinced that their love would win in the end, he had failed to see that when the burn of the beginning burned out, only the embers remained and those were to be stoked often and the right way to remain alive, burning with their inner fire, instead of becoming beautiful jewels, yes, but only to sport when one felt down and in need of doing a trip down the memory-lane.

He had fought for them, the Gods knew he had.

And Sansa had too, but her past experiences had taught her something he had not been ready to face yet, below her cheerful, kind and soft character, was hidden a wounded woman, a woman who had been under the thumb of boys not even worth to kiss the ground she walked on; and that woman had learned that love is about more than being in love.

She had still told him no, and while he had not understood that at first, that had been her way to fight for them. She didn't want them to start something they were not ready to finish, something that they were not equipped to finish. He had been stubborn, and she, in her soft-spoken, gentle manner had been a bastion, impregnable and inexpugnable.

Jon had even stepped in, at one point. Told him they needed the break, explained some of the goriest details of her previous experiences that Sansa had held close to her heart because of shame.

I am not telling you because you need to fix it, she has it handled, Jon had told him sternly when he had tried to stand up and go to her, demand perhaps answers from her, demand to know why she didn't trust him enough to tell him, I'm telling you because you need to back off.

He had learned then, it had slipped past Jon's lips, that he had been the one to collect her from her ex's house when Sansa had had a panic attack during a sunday brunch and had hidden herself in her ex's sister room, barricading herself from them, the bruise on her cheek carefully covered with make-up. Jon had stormed in, punched the git in the gut — got a report for that — collected her and brought her home.

So, he had given her the break she had asked for, after all his first mission would not last longer than a few weeks and he had been confident that by the time he returned they would fix the problem between them and their love would finally take flight and soar.

It had been grounding.

They had not resolved the matter, not in the way he had hoped, but he had understood that Sansa needed more time. She was younger, he reasoned, he could be patient as long as their end goal was the same.

So he had departed for his second and third mission beyond the Wall with a girlfriend waiting him patiently back home, ready to welcome him back with a container of her own baked goods and a soft smile playing on her lips. His third mission had also been Jon's first and he had met the girl that would become his girlfriend. Ygritte.

He had been cautious of the brass woman, but she seemed to make Jon laugh, when she smiled that easy smile of her she almost reminded him of Sansa. She sported red hair, a different shade that Sansa's rich auburn, but not for that less enticing, and while she wasn't exactly beautiful her voice when she sang totally made up for it. Low and raw, intriguing. But he had doubted she and Jon would last.

Jon was much softer than Ygritte and he wanted soft in his life, he might be hard as stone on the outside, but inside he was made of molten snow. In fact they had not last past Jon's second mission, he had heard that the breakup had been explosive, that Ygritte had swore and yelled and hit. Some rumors said she had even bitten.

His and Jon's life had taken different paths then, they had not shared any more missions, though he had learned that he had found a new girlfriend, a stubborn blonde girl who lived beyond the Wall and advocated for the freedom of her people. This one, he had thought, could be a good match for Jon, she had enough of the softness he needed, but he had not thought much about it since his own relationship had started to fall apart between his hands.

I don't think we fit, Sansa had admitted at last, just before he left for the Vale — supposedly she would have to accompany him — and by then he had started to dread the same, I think we have drifted apart.

To be honest he had expected it, though he had dreaded it. Their interactions lacked the spark that had animated them in the beginning, he was starting to resent her the wait she was making him go through, fearing she might be stringing him on without any intention to actually commit. She had been growing distant and more distant each time they spoke over the phone or by video call.

Aye, he had replied feeling deflated, ignoring the way his heart was breaking in a million pieces watching the woman he had been with for four years taking a step back from them. He had caught himself more than once giving a girl an once over, had felt like a traitor even only for it, in the pit of his stomach and while he never cheated on her... he still felt like he was involved into a one-way relationship that had lost its initial spark. We've been good though, he had asked her, haven't we?

Sansa's smile in that moment was the last hit, shattering his heart in a million pieces. It was sad, resigned, but also relieved. Maybe she had been afraid he would force her to stay, and he couldn't really fault her, seen her past experiences. Still, she should've trusted him more, after all those years spent together.

Yes, she told him that smile dimmed and he had felt like he was suffocating in his own tears, she had tears in her eyes as well, you've been so good to me, it just... it didn't work out.

He had nodded, pathetically he had almost told her that if she had accepted, by the now they would be married and maybe they would've been happy.

He had refrained though.

I know you wanted more, Sansa had told him, seemingly able to read his mind.

I thought you wanted more too, had been his acid reply. Sansa's face had morphed then, she had become of marble and he had known he had pressed the wrong button.

I did, she said, I do.

Not with me, though.

She had been unable to reply to that. She hadn't need to. And he had let her go. Had walked away before he fell on his knees to plead her to give him the chance to give her the world.

Jon had sought him out after their breakup, in that moment he wouldn't even have cared if the boy would punch him. Not only he could take him, but he had the sore need to throw punches too. Instead Jon had offered him a pint.

I am sorry, he had told him, I know you are hurting now, but you weren't there and you didn't see how she hurt before she took this decision. Always defending her. No matter what. He had guessed back then, that it should be beautiful to have someone so openly, so fiercely in your corner.

I feel like she took this decision years ago, when she rejected my proposal.

Jon had not replied to that and they had lapsed into a long, stretching silence as they had consumed their pints. When they had parted ways he had almost told him, take care of her, for me, but he had realized with a start he needn't because Jon had already left and even though he followed him out, he saw him sneak inside a bakery. He needn't to ask what he was buying and for whom.

Somehow he just knew.

Being beyond the Wall for the next three years had helped. He had been able to look inside and admit that whilst he might have been ready, he hadn't been really ready. He mulls over the fact, observing Jon and his friends from above the rim of his pint. He had not spoken much with Jon since that day, save for a couple of times, and though they never broached the matter Jon would let him know, in little ways that Sansa was alright.

He wondered if now, more mature and less stubborn, if now Sansa would tell him yes. If she was alright still. He pondered if getting up and going to Jon, ask him after her.

In the end he does not have the guts to, he stands up and leaves. There is the faint scent of citrus hanging in the air that freezes him as the voice that has populated his dreams suddenly rings out “Sorry!, we're late!”

He doesn't turn. Not yet.

“You took your sweet time,” Jon comments and is his voice lighter?, is it indulgent?

“Stop being a smartmouth,” she jests “I have a surprise...ta-da!” and then there's a chorus and Arya Stark exclaims “SURPRISE!” before she chants Happy Birthday off tune, soon echoed by the others. Must be Jon's birthday, he realizes.

He turns and gets a glimpse of her after three and half long years. Her hair are still long, curling at the ends, auburn and glinting soft like copper in the bar's lights, she looks not much older than she did last time they saw each other, but there is a different manner, more mature, to the way she holds herself.

She's smiling that bright beam that opened the doors to paradise to him the first time he had stumbled into his words to ask her out to dinner.

And she's looking at Jon. He ducks out of the bar before he can linger on Jon's answering smile.

It's a few days before the stumbles into them together again. He's stationed at Castle Black, which means he has seen Jon more often than not. He has grown. He's no longer the lanky boy all knees and elbows, he has filled out while he is still lean instead of muscular, he has let his hair grow some more and he usually sports them bound in a bun and he has to wear glasses.

He's more confident too, he is almost proud, though he has had nothing to do with his maturation. Jon doesn't avoid eye-contact with him, not even when he discovers that apparently Jon and Val broke things off some two years ago and Jon has been steadily single since then...

...not even when he asks Jon about Sansa.

She's been fine. Has had a couple of brief relationships, though right now she's single and finishing her studies for her degree. His voice drips with pride when he tells him that Sansa has now launched her own charity work and often accompanies him beyond the Wall, she is a fierce advocate for the Free Folk freedom and she's been trying to get the government to listen to their shouts for independence.

They've been in those lands long before the Andals and while they recognize some northerners as kin, as most of them descend from First Men too, they wish only to live life how their own tradition demand.

There is this quality to his voice when he speaks about Sansa... He had ignored it, before, but he is pretty sure it was always there to begin with. Pride, fondness and fierceness...passion, all wrapped into one. He has always had that tone whilst speaking of her, even when he and Sansa had gone out together and he was only her brother's best friend looking out for her.

He observes Jon then. Quiet that he is, his whole demeanor scream when Sansa is concerned; and he discovers that Jon now has a pet too, it's an albino wolfhound that he has named Ghost and he has received him as a gift for his graduation by Sansa. And it's true, Sansa is often at Castle Black and accompanying Jon beyond the Wall as he has become from an active member of the squadron to a diplomatic emissary, and he can see it, in the way they smile at each other.

In the way Jon's touch linger on the small of her back, in the way Sansa burrows in Jon's embrace... he can see it in everything. In the way the easy banter between the two of them always spark that kind of look between the two of them. In the way Jon watches her go, in the way his breath dips and the shaky exhale he takes every time she's persuading him of something.

“So,” he confronts the thing one time, he has been assigned to accompany the diplomatic mission beyond the Wall and Sansa has just convinced Jon to stay the night over so that they can take part with the Free Folk of their rite during the peak of the midnight sun period “how long has this been going on?”

“I am sorry,” Jon tells him “I should've told you before” and if he had expected Jon to look bashful like the boy he remembers, he was sorely mistaken “I just didn't know the words to use”

He sighs “Maybe starting with, Waymar, mate I'm going out with your ex would be a good place to start” he says.

“Sansa's been my friend long before I was your mate,” Jon's reply is filled with sarcasm and sass “if anything it should've been, Waymar, mate, do you remember the girl I've loved for half of my life, you know the one you dated? Yeah, I'm dating her now. That would've been more appropriate” he says.

A long silence ensues.

“I'm sorry,” Jon comments “that was... rude of me” he says “I cannot demand you take responsibility for things you did not know” he adds.

“But I did know,” he admits “I—” Jon's face is a myriad of emotions all together “I mean... I suspected you might have a thing for her” he explains “still—” he sighs “why didn't you tell me, though?”

“When you asked her out she... was so happy,” he says “who was I to destroy that happiness?”

Waymar nods. He has noticed other things too, the way Sansa's smiles would shine brighter when they were toward Jon, the way before they had been reserved, whilst now they're unreserved. The way her eyes always filled with fondness when falling on him.

He doubts Sansa had been aware of the extent of her feelings for Jon, more probable than not she did not realize until later, she's too kindhearted of a woman to purposefully hurt someone knowing she loves another. He doesn't even think for her it was that kind of love before they parted ways.

He nods.

“You make her happy too,” he says and he knows that's the true, he would argue — to his own detriment — that Jon makes her happier than Waymar ever did. Jon just... gets her, in a way Waymar never managed despite their best efforts (hers to be understood, and his to understand her) “happy in a way I could not make her,” he admits.

Jon blinks and uncrosses his arms from his chest, surprised by the admission. Waymar would like to be petty, really, but the time to be petty has long passed. He is mature enough to know he and Sansa might not have worked out anyway... they should've met differently and Jon should not have been involved in the picture and perhaps they would have had a chance. Fate had different intentions, life had different intentions.

There are still million of possibilities before him. He can see that now.

“You know?,” he says “a part of me was always jealous of the way you seemed to just... get her, without any difficulty. I thought it was because you had grown together, turns out it's just because it's the two of you”

Jon doesn't say anything.

“And perhaps I could've made her happy too, or— perhaps we would have drifted apart anyway” he says “I think— I know I was in love with her, but I didn't love her...not beyond that initial moment of falling in love” he admits “but you—” he pats his shoulder “you loved her before you fell in love with her, I think that made the difference”

“Don't break her heart” he warns him.

Jon straightens his shoulders “I won't,” he promises.

They don't speak of it anymore, there is no need to. And when, later, Jon kisses Sansa on her lips and Sansa kisses him back Waymar knows for them it's over. It's endgame. They are each other's person.

Sansa's blue eyes meet his and Waymar nods to her. Her smile breaks his heart a bit more.

She still cares for him, still...not in the way he would've wanted and that's okay. And her gaze falls immediately again on Jon and the way the Free Folk children run around his legs and the way he picks them up and the picture they paint.

I never noticed, he considers, but we kind of look alike. Jon and I.

For some time he wonders if that's what has drawn Sansa to him in the first place, then he decides it's a waste of time to wonder and he just cherishes his memories with the first girl who made him fall in love.

It's years later, after he has returned home for good that he stumbles, by chance, on a paper that talk of them. Sansa has managed it. She has been the propelling force behind the new treaty signed between Kings Landing and the Free Folk and in that guise the North has also gotten independence from the rest of Westeros thanks to a referendum and Sansa has been elected to lead the North in their new independent life.

The photo shows them in Winterfell, Sansa's childhood home, with her family and Lyanna Snow — Jon's own mother — he knows they've married some odd three or four years ago, and now Sansa is holding a small child, not older than one year old, balanced on her hip as Jon is carrying on his shoulder the eldest a little girl with her mother's red hair and her father's grey eyes. The girl has Sansa's same grin.

“Is that your brother?” he turns around, startled and the girl warm and kind brown eyes fill with surprise “sorry, I didn't mean to intrude”

Waymar sets the journal aside “No,” he says “but we've served together,” he tells her.

“She looks very beautiful,” she says nodding toward Sansa “do you know her?”

“Aye,” he says “I know her,” he admits.

The girl nods “They look happy”

“They do” he concedes “he's always put her happiness before his own”

A short story of how the got together, a gossip-story really, is written beside the photo. Here, her majesty Sansa of House Stark is depicted with her husband Jon Snow. They've known each other all their lives and have been childhood friends for a long time, they fell in love whilst Sansa Stark led her charities beyond the Wall advocating for their freedom as Jon Snow served as diplomatic emissary. Waymar would like to tell them that Jon has been in love with her far longer, and he suspects Sansa too. He wants to tell them Jon punched her scumbag of an ex and collected Sansa when she was falling apart. He doesn't though. That's their own private story.

And they are happy.

The girl smiles at him “My name is Margaery,” she introduces herself. Waymar is taken aback by her smile. He smiles back.

“My name is Waymar” he replies “pleased to meet you, Margaery” so, he ends up asking her to join him at his table at the bar, when she orders he almost expects her to order lemon cakes... instead she orders a slice of apple-pie with cinnamon and Waymar breathes a little better.

A few decades later Waymar meets them again. He has been married to Margaery for almost twenty years and they've had three children in the meantime. Sansa has stepped down from politics a few years ago, and she has retired with her family in Winterfell. Her youngest, Catelyn, is into politics as well and later when she'll be elected in her mother's place no one is surprised. Jon and Sansa are still as much in love as they were that day.

In the end, Waymar considers as Sansa recounts their whole story to a gossip starved Margaery that they are happier for the way things turned out.

Fin

So, this is just a little snipped actually, because you have stoked my inspiration, so I'll be working on several others companion pieces (one for sure by Jon POV and one by Sansa's; a couple of others with previous exes of both), so stay tuned for those too!

Hope you enjoyed this even if it turned out more about Waymar and the way he felt about Sansa than about Sansa and Jon, still Sansa's got a good experience before Jon, even if that too ended thankfully not tragically and I actually think we got this subtle Jonsa that I love to write. Anyway, with the other companion pieces we'll get also more of Jon and Sansa seen by their exes perspectives, and each other's.

You can find this on ao3, in my collection of prompts (x).