#Arya didn't even get to feel relief at the thought of seeing her mother and brother because she FELT that something bad was going to happen

[fromtheseventhhell]

I am almost there, Arya thought. She knew she ought to be excited, but her belly was all knotted up tight. Maybe that was just the fever she’d been fighting, but maybe not. Last night she’d had a bad dream, a terrible dream. She couldn’t remember what she’d dreamed of now, but the feeling had lingered all day. If anything, it had only gotten stronger. Fear cuts deeper than swords. She had to be strong now, the way her father told her. There was nothing between her and her mother but a castle gate, a river, and an army … but it was Robb’s army, so there was no real danger there. Was there? (Arya X, ASOS)

I'm feeling very unwell

[sailorshadzter]

What if Jon gets struck by Ramsay's arrows in the leg, shoulder, and side during their one-on-one combat but it didn't bother him because his adrenaline is on an all time high. He pummels the Bastard of Bolton, as he should, and everyone is in awe, but then he sees Sansa. He gets up, his eyes get a blinding vision, he blacks out, he collapses. You know the rest 🥰🥰🥰

thanks for the request!!

i used it as an excuse to rewrite the forehead kiss scene because it just FELT RIGHT. 

anyways, i hope you enjoy!

send me prompts

He doesn't feel the first arrow pierce his right thigh.

He doesn't feel the second one either, when it pierces him through the left shoulder.

He doesn't even feel the third arrow as it embeds itself into his left side.

A moment later, his fist connects with Ramsay's cheek and now that he feels. Over and over again, he punches the monster that had taken his home, his baby brother, and his sister's light until he's just barely breathing beneath him. Ramsay bleeds from a split lip, a broken nose, every inch of his face swelling from the dozen or so punches Jon manages to land before his attention is taken elsewhere.

It's as he draws back for another hit that he catches sight of her; she's pale and drawn, red hair just barely contained in its single braid that hangs over her shoulder. Her sapphire eyes are wide as their gazes meet and her name is a whisper on his lips... Sansa... His lips move, but he cannot find his voice. And so he stumbles to his feet, staggering forward two steps before the first wave of pain rushes through him. "Jon!" He hears her voice a moment before her hands are on his shoulders, warm and strong, her grip steadying him. "Jon..." Softer this time and he can see the tears clinging to her lashes, can feel her grip tighten as he sinks towards the ground, darkness consuming him before he can say a single word.

She knows he's going down a moment before he begins to fall.

Though she holds fast to him, he is heavy, limbs like lead as he falls unconcious, and all she can do is ease him down to the frozen ground. "Take him in chains!" She commands the nearest men dressed in Stark and Mormont livery and at once they spring into action, rushing forward to slap irons on the fallen Bolton, who lays there bloodied beyond recognition in the snow. "Jon..." She whispers then, peering down at his bruised, bloody face, knowing she would never be able to repay what he's done for her this day.

"Let me help, little lady."

It's Tormund standing at her side then and she looks up into his eyes for a long moment before she finally nods. Edd appears next and he and Tormund stoop down and with Sansa's hands guiding them up, they support Jon between the two of them. "Take him upstairs, to the Lord's chambers." She says softly and they both nod, before beginning the slow walk into Winterfell, Sansa trailing just behind them.

She stops for only a moment, suddenly feeling anxious as she recalls the last time she'd been inside her home. But then she thinks of Jon and knows she cannot feel fear, not right now, not when he needs her so much more. And so she crosses the threshold and steps inside Winterfell, speaking only to direct Tormund and Edd down another hall and up a single flight of steps that lead up to the corridor where the Lord's chambers are. It's been years since she walked these halls, walked down to these rooms. Back then... With Ramsay... He had kept her in another wing, far from where anybody might hear her screams. These rooms that once belonged to her mother and father... She's not stepped foot inside of them since they once resided within.

But now, she throws open the door so Tormund and Edd can enter, gesturing for them to place Jon upon the neatly made bed. "Send someone with water and linen. Bring me wine from the kitchens," she says to Edd who nods and slips from the room without another word. "Find Agatha, ask her for a needle and thread," she tells Tormund, the oldest living maid in the palace had always been kind to her, even when commanded by Ramsay and Sansa knows she will help. Tormund hesitates only for a moment, long enough to spare his comrade a quick glance, but then he too is gone.

As she sinks into a chair at his bedside, Jon softly groans as he claws his way back into the waking world. "Soft, Jon. You're safe," she murmurs softly, reaching out a hand to brush a sweat drenched curl from his forehead. To her surprise, his hand shoots up and takes hold of hers, his dark eyes opening to look up into hers. His mouth moves as he tries to speak, but she shakes her head, shushing him quietly. "Save your strength." She whispers as she leans over him, brushing a gentle kiss to his temple.

She's like a dream come to life; she's beautiful there at his bedside, her blue eyes dark and damp with worry. He hates that she's crying for him, he doesn't deserve her tears. "Sansa... I..." He only wants to tell her he's sorry, he only wants her to know how badly he hurts knowing Rickon is lost to them. But she shakes her head, pressing a single finger against his mouth. It's as if his words are too painful for her to hear him say. In truth, they're too painful for him to say.

"Tomorrow," is all she says and Jon nods, because at least they have tomorrow still.

[ x x x ]

When he wakes up, it's to sunlight spilling in through the window.

His body is tight, aching, bandages wrapped around his limbs and ribs, though the pain reminds him that he's alive. He glances around the room, wondering for only a moment where he is; it's been years since he's been in these rooms, but he knows them to be the Lord's chambers. It's the room where his father and Lady Stark had once stayed. Back when they had been children, he and Robb would sneak into the room to steal swigs of ale from their father's jug. The room is the same and yet, entirely different. Jon knows the papers that litter the desk against the eastern wall are not addressed to Lord Stark, but to Lord Bolton. He knows that the clothes hanging on pegs on the other wall do not belong to his father, but to Ramsay Bolton.

For a moment, he contemplates destroying the room, starting with tossing the clothing into the hearth, but he stops only when he hears Ghost's soft whimper from the side of the bed. He's been so preoccupied by his surroundings, his direwolf has gone noticed where he sleeps on the floor beside the bed. "Good boy, Ghost..." Jon says softly as he leans over the bed to pat the wolf on the head, surprised to find that Ghost doesn't lay there alone.

With a thin sheet draped over her body, Sansa snores softly on the floor beside the bed, her head resting comfortably against Ghost's shaggy fur. Jon realizes a moment later that she's been there all night. A smile tugs on his lips and he swings his legs over the bed only to sink down to where she lays, tenderly stroking her hair as he softly calls her name. "You shouldn't be moving," she admonishes in a sleepy tone, breathin in as she rolls her face up to face his. Her eyes are tired and her cheeks are pale, but her rosy lips curve with a small smile at the sight of his face.

"And you shouldn't sleep on the floor," he quips back and he's elated to hear her laugh. He stands upright then and extends out a hand for her to take, which she does, and he helps her back onto her feet. For a moment, they stand there in silence, dozens of thoughts rushing through their minds. "Sansa, I..." He begins and she looks down at her feet, as if already knows what he's going to say. "Thank you," he goes on to say and her head snaps back up, surprise etched into her features. "You saved me... You saved all of us." She blushes and looks away, focusing her eyes instead upon Ghost, who's now stretching on the rug before the dying fire. "But Rickon..." Her face hardens and she shakes her head, closing her eyes against the tears that threaten to spill.

"There was no saving him." Sansa whispers when she opens her eyes, staring into his dark Stark colored ones that remind her so much of her father, of Arya, that it nearly takes her breath away. "It's just us now." Her words are sharp, hollow, and they break his heart. But she's right. Arya is missing, as is Bran, and in a world like theirs... They are most likely dead, though neither one of them wish to admit it. Robb and Rickon were already gone and that left she and Jon as the last remaining Stark's. "The last of the Stark's."

"I'm not a Stark." He says at once, but her face contorts with anger and she shakes that magnificent red head.

"You are to me." She replies forcefully, her tone daring him to disagree.

Jon can't stop the relief that rushes through him at her words, the feeling of acceptance stronger than it has ever felt between them. "The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives." Jon finally says the only words that make any sense at all. She smiles then and nods, their father's words an echo all around them. For a moment, it was as if Ned Stark was there, guiding them on to whatever it was that would come next. There are no more words that he can say and so he cups her face into his palm and draws her closer. The space between them minimal at best, he presses his lips against her forehead, lingering far longer than he might have done only a few weeks before. When he draws back, her cheeks are flushed and his feel just as warm.

They might be alone in this world, but at least they had each other.