Sick 'Em With the Pointy End

The grim reaper & “the Stranger” & Hades figure haunt her story, and they each discomfort her from the get go.

One kills her father and is present to kill her if Stannis takes KL

One threatens her repeatedly and accosts her intending to rape —and she fears— kill her

Not that I think she would die after this moment either! Just that, this seems like very clear evidence that she makes it home.

And then, after she is home?

They have been texting since she asked about his applications. A few times, texting became inconvenient and one of them called instead. Sometimes the calls almost feel like before, but almost is the problem. Everything still feels fragile, as if either of them could say the wrong thing and ruin this. Sometimes she gets off the phone and cries because it went well, which seems unfair even to herself. Sometimes it gets so awkward that she spends the hour after they speak convinced being just friends isn’t feasible. But at least they’re trying.

— ALIASES OF ICE AND FIRE | Sansa Stark -> She-Wolf 🐺🩸

I was wondering, will you be making and releasing more art of Jon and Sansa? The ones made so far have been great!

Hi! Ty it's so nice to hear from you :) I've been stuck on this wip for too long and I lost momentum booo

But the idea of Sansa going to KL with an army to rescue Jon makes me so 🥺

The pain came so suddenly that Jon looked at the manacle on his left wrist, certain the iron had caught flesh beneath its edge. There was no fresh blood. The pressure came from elsewhere, and yet his body recognized it: fingers closing around a forearm, balance giving way, the ground seeming to shift, too little air entering the lungs. Then came the fear. Jon rose as far as the chains allowed. The scent of pine, iron, and smoke filled the wagon before he realized he was releasing it. The horses whinnied. One of the animals drawing the wagon tried to leave the track, and a wheel struck a stone hard enough to throw him against the wall. There was another alpha. Jon did not know how he knew. Perhaps it was only Sansa’s reaction crossing the bond. Perhaps his own body recognized what his mind could not see. The presence seemed close to her, strong enough to provoke pressure, restraint, and a violent urgency to drive it away. Someone was holding Sansa. Or Jon believed someone was. Perhaps she was trying to pull away. The sensation around her arm tightened again, followed by a surge of panic that hollowed out his chest. Jon yanked the chain without thinking. The eyebolt groaned in the wood. “Stop!” Hallis shouted from outside. The horses slowed in disorder. Boots struck the ground, men spoke over one another, and someone ordered the reins held fast. When the canvas was raised, hard light poured in, making Jon narrow his eyes. Hallis stood before him with his sword still sheathed, while Desmond and Olyvar remained farther back, both armed. “Has any message come from Winterfell?” Jon asked. Hallis studied his face. “No.” “Something happened to Sansa.” None of the men laughed. “What did you feel?” Hallis asked. “Someone held her. She lost her balance. There is an alpha near her.” Jon heard the certainty in his own voice and hated it, because he could support it with nothing another man could see. “Or that is how it seems. I have no way of knowing while you carry me in the opposite direction.”

Jon: *Is a Targ*