#arya stark and sansa stark prompt

[esmedalma]

She knew the hymn; her mother had taught it to her once, a long time ago in Winterfell

Sansa Month 2023 Day 1 - Women

[mirabritart]

"A Song of Ice and Fire" sounds like it could be a magical girl anime c'mon let's be real

Individuals below the cut!

[adoptable-fanfic-prompts]

During the 170s AC, House Tully faced quite a scandal: the heir of Riverrun had fallen in love and married a commoner, a woman with dark curls for hair and a lovely set of violet eyes. What made it worse was that little was known about her family’s history, save that she was raised by her fisherman grandfather who had lost his memory as a boy. In the end, they decided to hide the embarrassment away, eventually disappearing from their history save for a few members that kept the story alive yet secret.

It was too bad as it became somewhat relevant years later, especially for when Catelyn Tully (now Stark) had her children. For not only did each proclaimed child of Eddard Stark have a direwolf…

… each one eventually acquired a dragon…

[eddieheart]

So I had an idea... and I did a thing... pretty much the idea was that instead of getting pet direwolves the Starks (including Jon) were werewolves. Anyway that spiralled into the kids looking like their direwolves and because I can’t draw I photoshopped it. The pics are really bad so sry lol

Some of their aesthetics (?) are based on the show, some on the book and some in other specific fan art. (I gave Sansa a blue bow cus she gave lady one)

The fanart in question ^

And yes I know, Jon looks deranged and Sansa looks like Cersi sorry bro, that’s just how the cookie crumbled

[theartoftheprompt]

Happy International Women's Day

[shining-m00nlight]

41

41. “I love you and all, but you’re really stretching your luck right now.”

Catelyn Starks finds her husband in a pile of puppies. He now has to explain to her. (A very classic the Starks are getting diewolfs fic.)

Catelyn raised her eyebrow while looking at her husband, who was sitting on the living room floor with six puppies in his lap.

She wanted to say so many things at that moment but finally settled on telling her husband: "I love you and all, but you're really stretching your luck right now."

"Oh, come on. Cat. Look at them. They are so fluffy." Ned told her, taking one of the puppys and holding it next to his face and looking at her with eyes so big they rivalled the dog’s.

"No, no, no! I don't wanna look at them! I looked at them long enough to count them. There are six of them! Six!"

It's not like she hates dogs but she really couldn't handle the thought of having six dogs to take care of.

"Don't think of it like six dogs, love. I think you should first take our children into consideration. We have six of them as well. So it’s six dogs and six children. One dog for each child. That would mean, zero dogs for you."

Ned spoke as if he just figured out the solution to world hunger. She looked at her husband with suspicion.

"Did the kids coach you to say this? Did they actually convince you that they are responsible enough to take care of six dogs?"

"Well they did make some really compelling arguments. Having a dog teaches responsibility. And with each of them having their own dog, there will be no fighting about who is responsible for what because they will all have clearly defined responsibilities."

"Ned, I know you love telling our sons they are almost grown men while they are still wearing diapers to bed. But do you really believe our three year old, who regularly sleeps in bed with us because his “teddy” had a nightmare, who we dress, who we still cut food for, who we basically still do everything for, as we should, since you how he is three, can actually take care of another living thing by himself?

Hell do you even believe our fourteen year olds can take care of another living creature completely by themselves? Because I don't. Which means somebody has to pick up all the things they can't or won't do. And that will be me and I will end up taking care of six dogs."

After that Ned was quiet. Not having a good argument against his wife. But one of the puppies escaped his lap and stumbled towards Catelyn now.

Cat looked at the little dog with caution, he was completely black and was making small japs at her. But she was determined not to let herself get swayed just because a small pup looked at her.

"No! Do not come closer. I don't want you in my space?" she told the little black puppy.

Of course the small creature that by now had reached her feet didn't listen. The black dog was trying to jump up her leg. She tried very hard to ignore the little paws at her legs and the admittedly adorable whines coming from the floor.

In the end, despite her inner fighting, she was unsuccessful.

Catelyn made the mistake of looking down and into the puppy's eyes, those big, beautiful, innocent eyes. She couldn't help herself. She reached down to give the creature a quick pet on the head.

But the little monster immediately used her moment of weakness to cuddle himself into her hand. Ned was right he was really fluffy but she was still determined not to fold just because of a bit of soft fur.

“Ned, we really really can’t keep them,” she told her husband, trying to make him see reason.

“But Cat, look at him, look at how much he loves you already. And if we keep them, imagine getting six times of puppy love every day.”

“But also, six times walking, six times collecting poop, six times feeding and six times more cleaning because their fur will be all over everything! Ned, you need to see reason.”

“Ok, how about this, we make a deal with the kids. If they don’t take care of their dogs, as much as is reasonable for their age, they have to give the dogs back. And I promise you that all the responsibilities the kids are too young for will fall on me and you have to do nothing”

At Cat’s raised eyebrow Ned quickly added, “Basically nothing, maybe a few little things when I am not here. But I will give you a reward each time.

Catelyn had to smile a bit. "Are you gonna pay me 10$ an hour for walking the dogs like one would do for the neighbor kids?"

Ned also smiled at his wife. While they talked he had carefully placed the five remaining puppies from his lap into a bundled up blanket pile and then started walking toward his wife. When he reached her, he hugged her from behind with one hand around her hip, while the other reached for the black puppy himself.

"I know this will be a big adjustment and I promise I will be the person most responsible for all of it. But when Benjen brought them the kids were so happy. They even each picked one without fighting. This little one is Rickons by the way.

Benjen found them behond the wall, their mother died and now they don't have anyone. If Benjen can't find anyone to take them he will have to euthanize them or put them back behond the wall where they would die.

And there's basically no one but us to take them in. It is against the law to have them outside the North, you also need a special license to keep them as well as proof of massive available space for them. It is not something most people can provide. But we could since we have moved to Winterfell after dad died."

She knew he didn't mention his fathers recent death to get her to soften up, he wasn't manipulative after all but it still did. The passing of his father had hurt her husband a lot and now that she thought back on it she hadn't seen him as happy as he has been sitting in the pile of puppies in a while.

"You have a dog holding license like that? I didn't know that."

"Oh yes, it is still from my childhood. My dad had them from before we were born and we grew up with them. They died when I was a teenagers but me and my siblings still decided to get the license when we were adults."

Something about this revile made her brain itch but she couldn't put a finger on why. For now she decided to ignore it. Because while he didn't say it, Cat could hear in her husband's voice that the dogs obviously meant a lot to him and those little ones probably reminded him of the dogs he grew up with. Still snuggled into her husband and holding the little furball, her resolve broke.

"I guess if the kids and you really promise to care for the dogs and I will never be responsible for bathing any of them, we can try to keep them. Try! The emphasis is on try!

If in two weeks I'm sitting here with six dogs while you all are busy with something else I will personally call Benjen to pick them up and bring them back to where they came from!"

Her husband hugged her a bit tighter from behind and whispered

"You are the best mother and wife. I promise we will all be on our best behavior. Me, the kids and the dogs."

"You better keep that promise."

"I will and the kids will promise too."

Suddenly there was a storm of little people all yelling different versions of ,we will,"we'll take good care of them" and "we promise". Now she had her daughters at each of her sides hugging her, kissing her face, saying "thank you, thank you" all over again, her two younger sons trying to squeeze into her lap at the same time almost squishing the puppy, that still resided there and her two oldest trying to put their arms around the whole bundled up family.

"You are the best mom ever" exclaimed her smaller daughter right into her ear.

Cat turned to her and marvelled at the beautiful smile Anya gifted her. There was nothing more beautiful than her children's smiles but Arya's was always special to her.

Arya didn't often share true full smiles with her as they often clashed when Arya wouldn't like or listen to what her mother told her. But when she truly smiled, Cat was reminded so much of Ned that her heart would melt in an instant.

"Well, please remember that if this doesn't work out and the dogs have to go again" she said to remind them all that this was not a yes without conditions.

She still smiled at all of her children. She really did hope they would show enough responsibility to take care of the dogs. They seemed so happy and she wanted them to stay that way.

"Yes, if this doesn't work out and the puppies need to go, you have only yourself to blame. You can not be mad at your mother." Ned added sternly.

Cat was really grateful for her husband's words. She didn't really want to end up being the only bad guy if this went down south.

"But the puppies won't have to. We will be the best puppy caretakers ever and we train them to be the best behaved puppies ever." Robb chimed in. Jon was nodding his head in agreement.

Cat spent the next hours still on the living room floor together with her family being introduced to six little puppys. Cat was amused by how the puppies seemed to perfectly fit her children's personalities. The little black one that she now knew was Shaggydog, was running around and yapping at everyone if nobody gave him attention.

Arya's dog Nymeria was not far behind. Sansa's dog Lady could almost be described as polite, while Beans dog, who didn't have a name yet, was constantly trying to climb the furniture. The white wolf, Ghost, that belonged to Jon was quiet and listened very well for such a little puppy.

Robb's Greywind seemed as if he was trying to keep an eye on all of his siblings, barking at Shaggy when he tried to jump on the other puppies and at the unnamed dog when he tried to climb on a particularly high piece of furniture.

Catelyn had seldomly enjoyed herself so much in her life. She had all of her children around her, she was in her husband's arms and everybody was basically vibrating with happiness.

When she laid in her husband's arms in bed that night, she thought that she could handle six dogs if they would gift her family this much delight. She could exept having to clean up behind the little furmonsters if it gave her children the possibility of being woken up by their sweet little puppies licking their face, so they might appear less grumpy at the breakfast table.

And Ned was right. Winterfell was a perfect home for dogs with its wide spaces and the Godswoods attached to it. That thought sparked a memory at something Ned had said to her today that she hadn't truly understood but had put off for the moment.

"Ned?" she whispered.

"Yes, my Love?" he answered her in the same calm whisper.

"Why do these dogs require so many laws about where they are allowed to live? Which breed of dogs are forbidden outside the North?"

Ned didn't answer her. He kept quiet and stared up at the ceiling. Cat got a bit suspicious.

"Ned? Will you answer my question?"

Ned coughed: "Yes, well you see... Technically, they might not actually be dogs"

"What?"

"They are kind of direwolves." Ned confessed.

"NED! WHAT THE F---"

[dwellordream]

For the prompt fill: Sansa and Arya, The Moon Reversed!

"I think we ought to just fight," says Arya.

Sansa, who has been staring at her tearfully, waiting for some sort of sensible response to what she thought was a very heartfelt apology, says, "What is wrong with you?"

"Not with swords," Arya says, quickly, as if that were up for debate.

"Arya!"

"We haven't had a proper fight since we were ten and eight," says Arya. "I think we're due for a pummeling." She is rolling up her sleeves.

"You want to hit me?" Sansa asks incredulously.

"A little." Arya looks at her, hard. "You don't want to hit me? Be honest."

"No, I am not going to hit you!" Sansa exclaims. "That's ridiculous! We're not children anymore! We are not going to settle things by beating each other!"

"Well," says Arya, "I'll give you to the count of three, and then I'm going to take a swing. No faces. Should we agree to avoid the face?"

"If you hit me in the face, Arya," Sansa hisses, "I am going to kill you." She flushes. "I mean-,"

"That's the spirit," Arya says, approvingly. "One."

"You're mad," says Sansa. "I always knew you were mad."

"You just threatened my life," Arya points out. "Two."

"That was- Arya, I obviously wasn't serious-,"

"You looked serious. Three!"

She lunges. Sansa picks up a pillow and smashes it into her head.

"We just said no face!" Arya shrieks. "You're an oathbreaker, Sansa! Always have been!"

Sansa is too busy deflecting blows to her belly and legs to argue that they only banned fists swinging at the face, not other implements.

Arya shoves her onto the floor. Sansa drags her down with her, shrieking. She's a head taller than her sister but Arya is compact with muscle and surprisingly wiggly.

Sansa has the advantage in reach but when Arya headbutts her in the stomach she feels all the wind leave her body.

Arya pauses. "Are you alright?"

Sansa grimaces and then pinches her sister in the neck, hard.

[kloethewriter]

Does anyone have an Starkling (The Stark siblings) or Stark family prompts? Like I’m in the mood to write especially them but I’m just not inspired or have an idea what to write. Would really appreciate them!

[ottosuricatoblog]

"Protected."

Link to my masterlist

Author: soooo this is my first request! Thank you sm for asking! I hope this is alright! As you can see, reader is also a Stark but this is not part of my series "Fucked". I hope you enjoy it!!💖

Request: Prompt 13 and 23 would he so cute together! Maybe like an arranged marriage🤭 I would love to see what you could come up with 💕

13. “what are you doing in my room?” “oh, you mean, our room?”

23. “and who are you to tell me who i can and can't be with?” “i'm your future husband, and probably, father of your future children.”

When your father told you and your little sisters you were moving to Kings Landing with him, you were less than thrilled. Arya could take it. She's a witty girl. Sansa, though, was an innocent bird, and she had been promised to the prince, the little fucker. You knew you needed to be there for her until she could be there for herself.

The days in Kings Landing were exhausting. You were always looking over Sansa, which meant spending time with the hateful prince as well. The only positive thing about it was getting to know the prince's guard, Sandor. He was quite dry with you at first, but you didn't mind, continuing to be the chatty girl you've always been. He pretended not to listen to you, but he always asked something if you didn't talk, which didn't fail to make you smile. You developed an interesting relationship. He took care of Sansa when you couldn't, and you soon realized he cared more for both of you than he would admit.

After your father's execution, Arya was nowhere to be seen. The now King took pleasure in torturing everyone, but specifically your sister. The second time he decided to take her to admire your father's head on a spike, you couldn't take it anymore.

"Do you really enjoy this?" You hiss, holding your sister as she cries. "You're a monster."

"How dare you disrespect your King? You fucking whore!" He shouts. "DOG!" He motions for Sandor. "Take her to the Great Hall. I'll decide what I do with her on my way there."

Sandor looks at you, anger in his eyes.

"C'mon." He grunts, pushing you slightly.

Halfway through, he stops abruptly.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" He barks. "I can't protect you from the King if you're fucking insulting him in his presence."

"I know!" You groan, still pissed. "I know. Couldn't help it. He's cruel, Sandor. She's just a kid."

"Yes, he's fucking cruel. He's also the fucking King!" The look in Sandor's eyes is a mix of anger and pain.

"When he kills me," You start, and he clenches his jaw. "Take care of Sansa." Your eyes fill with tears.

"He won't kill you." Sandor says and starts walking again.

You arrive at the Great Hall, and ten minutes later, so does the King.

"My King." You try as he's sitting on his throne.

"Shup up!" He says. "You don't get to talk."

You stay still, remaining silent.

"I wanted to execute you, put your head next to your traitorous father's. My mother has advised against it." You sigh, thanking the Gods for Cersei in that very moment. Sandor does the same at his spot.

"Nevertheless, you did insult me, so this cannot remain unpunished." The King continues. "If I recall, you called me 'monster'. You're going to know a real monster." He shows an evil smile. "DOG!" He shouts.

Sandor looks at him confused. "Your Grace?"

You look at Sandor out of the corner of your eye.

"Here!" He says, motioning for you. "Come here."

He does as he is told, standing next to you.

"Lady Y/N, here's your monster." Joffrey says, delighted. "You're to marry the Hound."

You walk back to your chambers, very confused. You thought you were dying today. Instead, you're getting married. You're marrying not other than Sandor Clegane. It could be worse, but you're certainly shocked.

You get to your chambers, going directly to the table and pouring a cup of wine.

The door suddenly opens, and you see Sandor stepping inside and closing it.

"What are you doing in my room?" You ask, still a bit shocked.

"Oh, you mean our room?" He says, irony evident in his voice. "What the fuck was that?"

"The hell I know." Yoy say, sipping your wine.

"It's a bit early to drink, don't you think?" He seems amused.

"Fuck off." You mumble, which makes him smirk.

"Look, I know this is not what you dreamed of when you were a child," He starts. "A beautiful lady marrying an old ugly dog."

"You're not." You interrupts him, but he stops you again. Does he think you're beautiful?

"I don’t need you to lie to me, girl. I know what I look like."

"Will you shut up?" You say, walking towards him. "I was a bit shocked because I thought I was going to die, and the marriage news got me by surprise."

He stands there, looking at you.

"That said, if I have to marry someone in this shithole, it would be you." You continue, to which he frowns. "You're the only person here who was been kind to me, at least in your own way. You've protected me and my sisters. You're a survivor, just like us." Hiz gaze softens at that. "And, even if you may not believe it, you're unconventionally attractive." You smirk.

He shows the shadow of a smile. "It's not like you have a choice." He says softly. "I will protect you. I will take care of you. I promise."

You take his massive hand in yours. "I know you will." He pulls you into his chest, his arms around you.

You stay like that for a few seconds, until he hears you mumble against his chest. "If you fail to protect me, I can always marry Ser Meryn Trant." You tease, knowing how much he hates him.

He grunts. "You're not even talking to that fucker again."

You laugh against him. "And who are you to tell me who I can and can't be with?" You say, smirking.

He grunts again, which makes you laugh. He moves you to the wall so you're pressed against it, your faces dangerously close.

"I'm your future husband," He groans against your mouth. "And probably, father of your future children.”

You feel butterflies in your stomach, fighting the urge to kiss him and deciding to tease him a bit longer.

"That so?" You say, smirking.

You hear him say "Mine." before he presses his mouth against yours.

PD: I'm starting a tag list, if you wanna be in it, let me know🫶🏻

[esther-dot]

[I posted a list of SEASON 6 AUS before but these are book verse]

the cold inside our bones 2k @xylodemon (just have to point out that this was posted in 2012)

The Wall is no place for a woman, but Jon looks at Sansa's gaunt cheeks and hollow eyes and knows he will not send her away.

we're a different kind of same 3k by @jonsaslove

"I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day. It has not happened yet, but it will” Or; Sansa flees the Vale. Jon retakes Winterfell. When they meet again, they are changed.

Varg-hamr/Wolf-skin 1k by @cappymightwrite

hamr: the ‘shell’ or ‘shape’ of a person — the physical body, a state that can alter. hugr: what a person really is — the absolute essence, that which can leave the hamr behind. (Or, Jon in the body of Ghost, coming across a girl in grey fleeing north, along the east side of Long Lake...)

Pearls of Water ficlet by fedonciadale

Someone wakes up in Castle Black.

Saw You In The Snow 1k by @theemberalchemist

Sansa used the last of her strength to crawl to the foot of the tree, placing her head on its roots like she would lay on her mother's lap lifetimes ago. She could die here, perhaps, in the halo and ghost of her mother's warmth. Her mind drifting to gentle hands pressing against her head, tucking her hair back, humming a sweet song Sansa knew all the words to.

tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme 1k by @hoaryoldbitch

Satin averts his eyes and all around her bodies shift and uncomfortable looks are exchanged. Something akin to fear grips her and automatically she reaches out. Ghost is right there beside her. She wraps her arms around him and buries her fingers in his fur, kissing the top of his head. A buzzing of whispers and hisses arises around her, but one man bursts into a loud and booming laugh. He's tall and burly with reddish hair and a rusty beard. "Is this the beast you've all been afraid of? The pretty little lady tamed the ferocious wolf with a touch of her hand," he snorts, before walking toward Sansa in long strides. Brienne tenses up beside her. "I'll take ye to Lord Snow, lass."

In the darkest night, a song so sweet 2k

The Lord Commander stood atop the Wall and watched as the girl in grey came riding north, her army at her back.

old timber to new fires 27k by @setnet

When Alayne Stone hears word of the marriage of Arya Stark to the Bastard of the Dreadfort, it prompts her to leave the dubious safety of the Vale and set out on a dangerous journey north to Sansa Stark's homeland and her last remaining relative. But home is not safe. Winterfell is burned and broken, the Baratheon King and the Northern Lords are fighting to influence the future of the realm, the dead are stirring... and the old gods of the North are not half gods, worshipped in wine and flowers; they require blood.

And From the Ruins 15k by @thewolvescalledmehome

After awaking, Jon Snow's sole focus is trying to get his sister back. Alayne Stone is trying to survive the Vale. After an accident, she's forced to flee.

Stay With Me 5k

As her eyes shut, probably forever, Sansa Stark thought of one last thing: Jon. Then everything went pitch black.

now we're dead roses 22k

From Ghost’s eyes, he saw a lone, grey horse racing south. On the back of the courser mounted a girl. He could hear her breaths come out in little hitches and gasps as she grasped with all her might to the reins. Ghost chased after her, sprinting fast and nimble on his feet. She was a delicate little thing. Like a breeze could throw her off the horse. Her back shook as she stifled her sobs. Ghost followed on the horse’s rear, eyes sharp on the hooded figure. She must have sensed him behind her because she turned around and suddenly-- Jon woke up with an impossible name on his tongue.

a wind with a wolf's head 13k, WIP by @branwendaughterofllyr

The cold numbed everything. From her nose, to her fingers, to the breath in her lungs, the cold froze and stiffened. Sansa shoved her cloak up around her face and tucked her free hand under her arm. The grey cloth billowed and faded into the darkening twilight as the wind tore at her. Somewhere, a wolf howled, but Sansa was not sure if it was in her mind or not. A ghost wolf, she told herself and pressed on.

Art: The Girl in Grey and Jon's Resurrection by @palominojacoby, The Girl in Grey by @jonsawilldanceanon, The Girl in Grey by @thetullystark , The Girl in Grey by @ozzy698 , The Girl in Grey by @cute-poison20102014, Jonsa Reunion by knightmarescape, Forehead Kiss by colleendoodle, Jonsa Hug by CristianaLeone, Forehead Kiss by rosenroot

PRE CANON - WESTERN - REGENCY - FAIRYTALE - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6 - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - SALTY TEENS

[sailorshadzter]

Can you write a fic where Cat survived the Red Wedding and has to accept that Sansa has to marry Jon to keep the Stark line and the North united? She knows Jon is now the heir but the prospect of marriage still haunts her because of what happened to Robb. And now, Cat wouldn't want to wish what happened to Robb to Jon Snow regardless of his heritage.

HIIII ANON

once again, this has been sitting in my inbox for a long time!!!

hopefully you see this!!!

send me prompts

When the gates open, a wagon rolls in, pulled by a white mare that has seen better days. 

She happens to be standing in the courtyard, talking with a few of the lords when the call comes, so her attention shifts away, blue eyes watching as the wagon comes all the way through. They aren’t expecting anyone, not that it matters, so she excuses herself, wandering away from the center yard and closer to the horse drawn wagon that has now come to a stop.

As the single passenger rises from the bench, her heart skips a beat, her stomach turning over like the wild waves of the sea. Somehow, her heart is telling her all she needs to know about this hooded stranger. 

Coming closer now, she waves away the guards barking questions- who are you, why have you come, and the like, because she doesn’t need to hear the answer the woman will give. As she comes around to the back, the figure is stepping down off the back, her feet crunching in the freshly fallen snow. For a moment, it is as if time is suspended, as if there is not a single other person in the world but the two of them- her lips curve around the syllables of the word she hasn’t used in years… “Mother…”

Catelyn Stark smiles, drawing back the hood of her cloak to reveal a somewhat scarred face, one older than she recalls, but it was her mother all the same. “Sansa,” she breathes, tears overflowing as she forces a smile. “My daughter…” A girl grown into a woman, a sight she thought she might never get to see… But here she was, standing just in front of her. It takes but a moment more for the young woman to fling herself at her, to fall into her arms as if she were that child she’d lost so many years before. “I’m here, Sansa, I’m here,” she whispers, running her hand through the red hair that has grown so long it falls to her waist, twisted back in braids like her own. Catelyn holds her tightly, wishing away her tears and murmuring the softest of words, until only the sound of footsteps draws her away.

When she looks up, over her daughter’s head, it is to look into the eyes of the man she knows has saved Winterfell, has saved Sansa. The boy she once detested, the boy she once neglected, now stands there now, grown into a man, staring at her with wide, gray eyes. Eyes that remind her of Ned, of Arya, eyes that bring pain to her already aching heart. But, she returns to her daughter, the last piece of her, and knows that this was where life was meant to bring her. 

[ x x x ]

“King in the North?”

Catelyn questions without hesitation, looking from one face to the other, once again feeling that ache in her heart. Once, Robb had been called such a thing. The truth was, she imagined to hear Queen in the North upon her arrival, but it was true, Robb had indeed named Jon as his heir, and it seemed as if the North agreed. Truth was, after hearing about all that had happened since the days of Robb, she supposes Jon deserves the title. 

Besides… 

“Have you met with Samwell Tarly?” She asks next, thinking of the man she met some weeks ago, traveling from King’s Landing to Winterfell, saying how once he was comrades with Jon Snow, no, friends even. “Is he not here?” 

Jon shakes his head, surprised to hear his old friend’s name spoken by his step mother. “I have not heard from Sam since before…” He trails off , shaking his head. Since before his death, he means. “Have you met with him, Lady Stark?” Lady Stark… She’s not been referred to by that name in so long now, it feels somewhat foreign. In truth, she’s heard Sansa called by that title all day, her inheritance certain. And now that she looks, there is a closeness between the two of them that she never saw before- perhaps it was one she prevented, in truth. 

“I have,” she admits, wondering if it was her place to tell him what Samwell Tarly had told her. She has but a split second to decide, for they are both staring back at her, Sansa with her wide-eyed gaze, Jon with his somber one. Perhaps this was the will of the gods, whichever ones were still listening…

So she speaks and she doesn’t stop until the story is fully told. 

[ x x x ]

It is the fourth morning of Catelyn’s return and she finds herself in Sansa’s rooms, brushing out her long red hair as she once did so long ago. 

Much has changed in the days since her arrival, the truth of Jon’s birth being an outright shock for all of Winterfell. But, the lords have taken it in stride and it would not be long before they would openly claim him as the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. 

In due time, of course. 

Catelyn has been thinking this moment over, again and again, trying to decide the best of the situation. The North deserved to be free, independent, just as Robb had intended…. But they still needed to back Jon, in order to win the war that was to come. Targaryen’s were not well loved here in the North, but lucky for Jon, he’d amassed love and respect from the Northerners that could not be stolen away simply because of his father’s blood. He was a Stark, many lords would say, shaking their heads. He was as much of a Targaryen as any one of them. 

“Mother?”

Sansa’s voice draws her out of her own thoughts and she smiles at her over her shoulder, their eyes meeting in the reflection of the looking glass. “I got lost in my own thoughts,” she apologizes as she places the last pin into place. For a single moment, she cannot help but to imagine her as she once was in this place; a hostage, a victim. Sansa hasn’t come out with all of the details of her two unlucky marriages, though she swears Tyrion never touched her, Catelyn knows Ramsay Bolton did the most unspeakable things to her. And these thoughts lead back to Robb, who married out of young, stupid love, that unwavering feeling many don’t get to feel in a world like theirs. Robb had died for love, Sansa nearly died from the violence of a loveless marriage. In the end, her children had found suffering in marriage, whether it be true love or political gain… There was no happy ending, not for Robb and not for Sansa.

But then there comes a knock on her door and when it opens, Jon is there, the sight of him bringing a smile to her face she’s never seen before. She watches as Sansa lights up from within, as she rises up from the chair she occupies to sweep across the room to stand before him. He spares her but one single nod before his eyes are all for Sansa, eyes that she swears she’s seen before… Eyes that she swore Ned once looked upon her with. 

Sansa offers a quick curtsy- sloppy, though she had it perfected at three- and with her arm slipped through his, she allows him to steer her from the room.

 Left alone in silence, Catelyn sinks back in the chair, laughter bubbling on her lips. 

[ x x x ]

Several weeks later, their betrothal is announced. 

Catelyn watches as the loyal Northern lords raise their glasses to the marriage, chanting their pleasure before they drink to it. At the head table, Sansa is blushing, but not in the innocent sort of way, while Jon pours her a second goblet of wine. They would be the finest of couples and the most powerful of monarchs- already Dorne had written of their support and she supposes the rest of the world would not be far behind. They had far more power than Robb ever had, which she supposes should bring her comfort, should hold her heart steady. 

The boy she once wished would die, she now wishes a lifetime of happiness, of health, of love. 

The boy she once wished never existed, she raises her own glass to toast, hoping for happiness, wishing for a lifetime of love.

[reginarubie]

hi I don’t know if you still do request tumblr prompts, but if you’ve lurked in the jonsa tag there was this post shared about a person asking if an adopted son can marry the daughter of the family that adopted him and I was wondering if, inspired and have time. Could you share a dabble or even dialogues with that in mind?. I don’t know, maybe literal conte yes or Jon posting this and people find out it’s him, anything really haha

Oh nonny, why not?

Aragorn married Arwen, though.

The first one to approach him, if one would believe it, is Rickon.

Jon was there when Rickon was born, small, shrieking and red haired. He had been there keeping hold on Arya to avoid she jumped on all the furniture of the hospital room in her excitement.

His little brother leans closer to him a couple of days after as he swings his backpack on his shoulder and as he munches on a protein bar, “Yes” he whispers, his breath smells of nuts, without offering further explanation. Then he smirks like Theon does when he’s about to whore his way out of some mess, and leaves.

Jon remains awestruck, and uncertain, on his feet at the isle of the Stark’s kitchen. He isn’t usually home this hour of the day, not since he’s moved out, but Ned needed helped with the tree-house and Jon needed a day off to get his hands dirty anyway.

Ned keeps looking at him strange all day, and Catelyn studies him with a knowing grin from the kitchen window, and when she brings out some apple pie for them during mid-morning, she takes great care to state that Sansa made it, with much love.

Jon chokes on empty air.

Ned is helpful enough, despite the way he has looked him all morning, to pat him on the back and tell him something that should sound wise and resigned but make Jon only feel uncomfortable.

He’s never been uncomfortable since the Stark officially adopted him when he was fifteen; and after helping set the table he skips — two steps at time — upstairs to find refuge in his old room.

Bran is there. Bran’s mischievous grin, as if he has Jon precisely where he wants him, makes him almost bolt for the door. But Bran is smart, and that wheeled chair is more flexible than he thought because he manages to reach him and knock him on the bed by grabbing him by the hem of his shirt.

“So,” Bran says “you want to marry Sansa, and have her babies. Or would she have yours?” he questions.

And that’s how he learns that all the Starks (barred Arya who is in Braavos for a fencing competition and Sansa who’s in the Vale busy with fashion school) have read his post.

Fuck.

“Would it make you want to hit me less if it was Arya?” he tries to smooth the tension that Bran has unnecessarily created.

Bran’ eyes narrow, “You want to marry my sister, have her babies or she yours; and you want to cheat on her with my other sister?” he demands and Bran can be pretty scary when he wants to, okay? He takes it after Catelyn.

“No…” Jon practically squeaks, and when Bran cocks his head on the side he hastens to add “no one is having anyone babies!”

“Yet!” Catelyn shouts from downstairs, “and until that is true, come down, lunch is ready!”

Bran snickers as Jon helps him down, “And I would not cheat on her,” Jon tells him, offended.

Bran doesn’t stop snickering and Ned is making a very peculiar expression where he’s sat at the head of the table.

“Don’t worry dear,” Catelyn tells him as she pats him on the head as she did when he was a child, “Sansa doesn’t know, yet”

Jon looks helplessly at Ned, his bastion. His father.

Ned just takes a deep breath, and stands up abruptly “We need something stronger than water for this” he states, moving toward his liquor cabinet.

“Eddard Stark stop there!” Catelyn shouts, “Doctor Luwin said…”

“I don’t care what Doctor Luwin said, woman” Ned replies “our son needs it, and to be frank, so do I”

What follows is perhaps the most uncomfortable lunch since that time that aunt Lysa’ new partner Petyr Baelish came visiting after uncle Jon’s death.

In the end though Catelyn sends him off with enough food to last him a week and promises him everything will be fine, “We knew,” she tells him and at Jon’ doubtful look she smiles, “I knew,” she amends, “and perhaps Bran, that kid knows far more than he tells. And Rickon is more perceptive that you’d think… perhaps, only Robb and Ned were not in the known”

Jon wants the earth to swallow him up, “And Sansa, but Sansa is always wilfully blind when it comes to you, so”

“Can we… pretend this never happened?” he pleads. Catelyn never looked more motherly.

“Of course dear, whatever you need”

But since Jon is an unlucky bastard, of course they can’t.

Arya just sends him a text, “My sister? You can do better” and then adds “actually, so can she” but then sends him a married cat couple sticker and they don’t speak of it further.

So perhaps they can really pretend it never happened.

Only, they can’t.

Robb ambushes him outside of his work, when Jon really thought that perhaps he had not given the matter any thought.

“We need to talk” straightforward as always.

“I’ve had a horrendous day, Robb. Can we save this for another time?”

“It’s about Sansa,”

Jon’ patience has grown thin since Rickon has kept pestering him asking to be flower boy.

As if he isn’t taller than him, to Jon’ vast dismay, and looks like he’s twenty-four and not sixteen.

And Bran keeps questioning his intentions.

And Arya hasn’t stopped sending him nauseated gifs all day long.

Even bloody Theon knows. And he and Catelyn keep trying to reign in the others by teaming up in their effort to tease the hell out of him.

He’d like to smash Theon’ face in, since his foster brother had once the very same problem when it came to Sansa. He’s been restless. Always making importune questions at the most importune times.

“Yes I’m in love with her, no she doesn’t know. No, no one is having anyone’s babies and no I would never cheat on her,” he lashes out, walking around Robb and completely missing his brother’ grin and the glint in his blue eyes.

“Wait a moment, Sans, I’m going to put you on speaker,”

And if Jon believed he has ever been embarrassed. Well… he was wrong. He now is properly embarrassed.

“That’s very comforting to hear Jon,” Sansa tells him from the speaker “it means Robb and I’s ten year plan to get you to fall in love with me has finally born some fruit,”

There’s blinding light and then Jon is beaming, grabbing the phone from Robb’ hand as his brother grins like a Cheshire Cat.

That very same night there’s Sansa comment under his question, pinned above all other comments (all kind of comments and Jon is quite offended by some of them).

There’s a particularly nasty one that almost knocks the breath out of him and Jon is on the point to delete the whole thing altogether despite being too giddy to do anything now that he knows Sansa actually returned his feelings.

Aragorn married Arwen, though💅—SStark🍋

Because there isn’t much more to say to that, is there? Gods. Jon loves this woman.

Sooo nonny! Hope you enjoyed!

Sending all my love ~ G.

[adoptable-fanfic-prompts]

Game of Thrones Writing Prompt

All the Stark kids turn into direwolves (they still get their wolves later but also become wolves). It starts with Jon and Robb getting a fever when they are around 3-6 years old (get it at the same time). Turns out it’s a magical sickness because as soon as it passes, they can turn into direwolf pups. The same thing eventually happens to the other Stark kids.

I even had the thought of Theon potentially getting it at a later age due to him going to the Godswood of Winterfell and wishing he was a Stark over a Greyjoy (had no idea that what he thought was a private moment with himself was being observed by the Old Gods. His eyes also turn to Stark Grey. He has a harder time due to his older age, though).

The Stark children (plus Theon) are a little wilder and closer than canon. When Robert Baratheon comes down, it’s Rickon’s turn so they have to hide it.

Not sure of anything else with this. If anyone has any other ideas with this, let me know.

[mybworlds]

Chapter 6: Something there

Pairing: The Hound x Sansa Stark

Summary: As their journey continues, they will discover that slowly their relationship is beginning to change -- perhaps.

Chapter Warnings: language, use of pet names, influence of alcohol

Masterlist

Before to start... thank you to follow me, if you want to be tagged in the next chapters, please let me know! if you want to ask me smt, you can write down here or you can inbox me. Please remember English is not my first language.

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

Sansa and the Hound departed a few hours later, silence had fallen between them, only Stranger - Sandor's mighty horse - could be heard trampling on the grass or rocks under its hooves, she was annoyed by the man's foul-mouthed language so unpleasant, yet a sincere thanks for saving her life and healing her wounds came out of her heart, having said these words she turned her head toward the man behind her who immediately returned her gaze "You're welcome." he said simply in a serious tone.

Sansa then asked, "Who were those men? Do you know which house they belonged to?"

The Hound twisted his mouth before answering, "They are from the Land of the Aryas."

"Land of the Aryas?" asked Sansa "I have never heard of them."

"Because it should no longer exist, little bird. What you know as the Chief of the Octopus had the name Land of the Aryas, the Aryas were a people of savages mostly skilled in the use of the sword, violent. They were a rival house to the Clegane's that's why I know about their existence. My father faced their leader at the time, a certain Ga-rarg or Ga-nang I don't remember, however defeated him and remaining only women there, I thought their lineage - if you can call it that - was extinct, but today -- when I saw their coat of arms, I realized that I was wrong and that someone else is back in power of that scum!" he finished explaining and then spat.

"And your father died…?" Sansa was about to ask him if he died fighting honorably to protect his home and children, but he stopped her laughing "He didn't die fighting, little bird, if that's what you were about to ask me. He died on a hunting trip, like King Robert. Assuming he really died that way." that thought escaped him.

Sandor had never quite believed the story of his brother having gone hunting with his father that day; part of him believed that his father had died at Gregor's hand or otherwise.

"Did you weep for his death?" asked Sansa, barely turning her face away from him.

"What an idiotic question! No! There is nothing to mourn, the dead are dead. What is the point of wasting tears on someone who can no longer see or hear you?" he answered her abruptly.

Sansa just leaned her back against Sandor's armor-covered chest; she would have liked to tell him that she was sorry for his loss even though it had now happened many years before and that she would pray for him, but she was sure the Hound would not like the thought or give thanks.

"Why did you go into the service of the Lannisters?" asked Sansa after a few moments.

Sandor sighed and stopped his horse for a moment, looked around "What's going on?" asked Sansa noticing the man's inquiring gaze.

"Be quiet!" he admonished her "Soldiers coming. " he added and then set Stranger off at a gallop and fast forward into a forest, Sansa clinging with one hand to the horse's mane and with the other to the Hound's armor, which prompted Stranger to run even faster, Sansa was afraid of falling when the horse jumped over a small river, she begged the gods to allow her to live, to help her and then prayed that the Hound would also find some peace, he was a good man - deep in his heart - who must have suffered so much to become like that!

Stranger continued his gallop until Sandor pulled slightly on the reins and the horse slowed its gait, they crossed a small stream always in silence, then returned to the main road; Sandor stopped the horse and looked back, Sansa did the same, but she saw no one, she then observed the man asking him a mute question, "Danger past, little bird." he reassured her "We are almost at Harrenhal. But we will not stop there."

"Why?"

"It's not safe and then there's Tywin Lannister, you don't want him to recognize you and take you back to King's Landing!" at the very thought Sansa shuddered "Besides, I'm not going to go there, to that cursed fortress!"

"Are you superstitious then?"

"No, but if I can avoid death a little longer it's better!" he replied without looking away from the horizon, Sansa smiled imperceptibly "In what do you believe?" she asked him.

"In nothing but brute force!" he replied confidently "Nothing protects you more than the sword and your strength."

"Yet you must have believed in something as a child!" insisted Sansa, the man replied with a snort.

The two came to a miserable village, its houses were built half of stone and half of wood, its inhabitants populated the muddy streets, dogs ran free and others fought for a piece of meat, there were many children and parents with hollowed-out faces and pleading eyes for help. Stark felt pity for them "Dare to say a word and I'll tear your tongue out." the Hound admonished her brutally "Better if no one recognizes us: pull up your hood, hide your hair and look down." he continued in a less aggressive tone.

Sansa could have shouted for help and said that she was the Lady of Winterfell, perhaps someone would have recognized her and taken her home and snatched her from the clutches of the Hound who could do nothing but speak rancorous and frightening words to her, or perhaps they would have simply handed her over to the Lannisters in exchange for a loaf of bread.

No, Sansa could trust no one but the Hound, he - even if brutally - was protecting her.

Sandor set the girl down "Come." he told her simply and Sansa obeyed, they entered with their heads down into a place she recognized from the din to be an inn, there were few people there and so Sansa dared to barely raise her face to that of the man behind the counter "Welcome to the Moor Inn, how can I help you?"

"Give me some wine and chicken." replied Clegane handing the man some coins that Sansa imagined had been taken from someone else, the man cast a quick glance first at the Hound and then at Sansa "It will be cold tonight, why don't you stay here? There is a room upstairs, plus you can count on my discretion, ser."

The Hound looked at the man and replied, saying, "How much do you want?"

"Ten silver coins for the room and my silence."

Sansa looked up at the Hound, he was about to draw his sword, but Sansa laid a hand on his and then Sandor looked at her, what did the little girl intend to do?

"All right, ser." she replied, "Here you go." having said these words she slipped off a bracelet worth at least 30 gold pieces, Clegane thought.

The man looked first at the girl and then at the very precious bracelet without adding anything else.

Rather he made them have plenty of food and wine and the largest room in the inn, "Why didn't you tell me you had jewelry with you?" asked the Hound, looking at Sansa as she disgorged her leg of mutton. Sansa looked at him with those clear eyes that Sandor was slowly beginning to appreciate and replied, "I was afraid that if I told you, you would rob me and abandon me somewhere."

The Hound snorted and then downed another glass of wine "Doesn't it bother you to drink so much?" she asked as she saw him gobble down that red liquid.

"No, there is one thing that bothers me and that is stupid questions to which you can only give stupid answers. Do you want to know why I served the Lannisters? Because my father was one of their bannermen many, many years ago and because I only had a desire to kill and with them I could do it often." she fell silent "Here, drink." he invited her.

Sansa looked at the glass containing wine and then Sandor "If you don't do it, I'll drink it. Come on, try it, bad luck you'll have a headache tomorrow!" he reassured her in his own way, Sansa took the goblet and brought it to her lips and slowly drank some, it tasted decidedly strange so much so that she barely curled her lips causing the man to laugh.

"One more sip," he encouraged her.

"Tomorrow I'll make you pay for it," she threatened him.

"I tremble at the very thought." sneered Sandor at her.

She drank two more, four more, six more sips, finished a first, a second and a third glass.Sansa was definitely beside herself, laughing and joking with the Hound as if he were her friend rather than a man who was bringing her home.

"You are the bravest man I know, Sandor," she told him as he carried her into the room and laid her on the bed. Sansa under normal circumstances would never have called him by his name or referred to him as such. Her upbringing required her to maintain a certain detachment and superiority from others; after all, she was a Lady, not a commoner!

Sandor knew she was not herself, but nevertheless he felt flattered by the young girl's words, moved her hair and asked, "How are the scratches?"

"Better, they don't burn anymore. Thank you, thank you for what you did." she said, laying her hand on his cheek, on that cheek that the fire had irreparably ruined: he shuddered like a gasp, not because he felt pain, but because no one had ever touched him with that gentleness again, the last woman who had done so had been his mother when he was a child of about eight.

Sandor did not answer, he looked her straight in the eyes and she did not lower her gaze, the battered face of the Hound did not seem as frightening to her as it did a few weeks ago, it was almost comforting, it made her feel strangely safe, was it the wine?

He smiled, "Aren't you afraid of me? Until yesterday morning you were horrified by my face."

"I wasn't looking at you in horror, you're wrong. I was just thinking … that if you are like this it is because of something that has made you suffer so much that it has driven you to no longer believe in anyone except in hurting others whether by sword or words."

He smiled and then replied, "Bullshit!"

And instead, the little fucking bird was right, and how right she was: Sandor Clegane had not shed a tear or addressed any prayers since he was eleven years old, since his beloved mother had gone, he recalled that he had prayed for some god to take pity on her, to bring down her fever, to make those wounds heal, but no god had taken pity on her, nor had they heeded his prayers.

From then on the child never cried again, what was the use of crying?

The Hound made to get up and let her rest there on that bed that smelled of mold, but she grabbed his hand and asked, "Will you stay with me?"

Sandor looked at her surprised for a moment, then remembered that she spoke like that only because of the wine she had drunk, not because she really wanted to; nevertheless, he could not say no to her, on the contrary.

"Turn the other way." he ordered her, and Sansa rolled onto her side, leaving him plenty of room to stretch out. He took off his armor and leaned his belt with his dagger and sword against the wall, then lay down behind her.

She was already asleep, but he could not close his eyes: this was not the first time he had lain with a woman, he had had many for a night and for a fee, but never did one of them have the effect on him that that pure little girl had on him. He felt-some strange form of tenderness toward her. He felt something that was still not quite clear to him. He barely held onto her and smelled the scent of her hair, wanted to caress it, wanted to caress that face that was so sweet and proud, wanted to … he didn't quite know himself.

The next day Sandor woke up with the sun illuminating the room, Sansa was practically clinging to him asleep, and he was … in an indecent state … if only the little one had seen the effect she had on him, she would have blushed and hid.

It was not the first time it happened to him when someone slept near him, but for the first time he felt uncomfortable. He even found himself thinking about her and how she would never give herself to him, the Hound, the broken and disfigured-faced Man, ever. Sandor loosened the embrace that held him bound to her and, after making himself presentable, walked out of the room, he had to drink.

The Hound came down and sat down on a stool, asked for wine, but the woman behind the counter - who must have been the wife of the man Sansa and Sandor had met before - reminded him that they never served wine before the Sun went down, Sandor got up from there using a series of epithets and profanities that would have made the people of Flea Bottom blush. What he found around was only water, water and more damn water.

He returned to the inn and ascended without giving the woman a glance; he could screw her and her rules!

He would find what he was looking for elsewhere.

When he opened the door to their room, Sandor saw Sansa standing intent on observing her little body: it was full of bruises and scratches; she touched the scratches in the cleft between her breasts slowly and then touched her inner thigh. Sandor almost felt the instinct to walk into the room and kiss that once nubile and perfect little body of hers, now full of cuts.

He did not do this, however. Sandor just stared at his young companion and felt … helpless, wished he could do more, be able to say the right things, to tell her what she wanted to hear, felt a strange and somewhat disturbing sweetness make its way into him.

Where did it come from?

Sandor had never experienced such a feeling; what was happening to him?

He decided to regain control over himself and remember who he was, he was Sandor Clegane, the terrible, violent and aggressive Hound, he had taken Stark with him only to make a profit, then he would leave and abandon Stark there, what was warming his heart was only a momentary thing and surely due to sobriety!

Yes, he was there with her only for money, nothing else.

Sandor opened the door and in doing so heard her reach for something, when he saw her, she was wearing her cloak, "Please, I have not yet finished dressing. Wait for me outside." she almost begged him, and he, obedient as a dog, backed away without saying anything to her. He waited outside.

Clegane remained in total silence feeling his heart oddly beating in his chest.

He decided to regain control of the situation with one of his usual stinging phrases that would make things go back to the way they were, opened the door again and saw that Sansa was fixing her hair with her hands and he had the desire to run a hand through her red hair himself, who knows how soft it must have been!

Sansa noticed his presence and so turned around smiling innocently at him, "I'm ready."

"Good, I don't have all fucking day to lose!" he blurted out causing her to lose her smile.

Why did it hurt him so much now to make her lose her smile?

"Fine." she replied in a cold tone "Anytime." she added reaching out to him and returning his cloak. Sandor felt small, small despite being much taller than her and much stronger than Stark, he felt as if he had just received a punch that took his breath away. He followed her a few steps away, Sansa politely greeted the woman using what to him seemed to be a bunch of bullshit made to dazzle the idiots on duty, then walked out.

Sandor, on the other hand, taking advantage of the girl's distance, approached the woman and demanded that she return the bracelet they had appropriated a few hours earlier; the woman, frightened by the man's dagger and surely also by his appearance, returned what Sansa had previously given to pay for her lodging.

Sansa watched as Sandor mounted on Stranger behind her, then rammed him and they quickly left the inn behind them. Sansa could not understand the man who went to such great lengths for her but did everything he could to keep her away.

What was he trying to prove?

That he was tough? He was.

That he was above everything and everyone? Maybe.

Sansa strove not to make remarks that might irritate the man and also tried to be as less talkative as possible, to use the Hound's terms, strove not to chirp in order to avoid phrases pregnant with irritation from her companion.

[cellsshapedlikestars]

Seeing all your cool home updates && half-watching some HGTV w/my mom while drawing had a simple prompt idea if you might be interested! Basically HGTV reno show Jonsa - Sansa is a designer and finally gets a chance for her own show but loses Rob (her #1 contractor) to an injury before filming starts && Jon jumps in (either to help Rob /or/ the studio execs (maybe Targs?) throw him in) and the two have to work together somehow. Idk idk, just wanted to share! <3

ANON.

No, you have no idea, I already HAVE a house reno wip. It's not super long, but... yeah. I've got that.

Here, I'll post what I have written of it, since we CAN'T GET ONTO AO3.

this isn't exactly your prompt, though I do honestly love yours a lot and sort of want to change mine. If I changed mine, the show Sansa works on would definitely be like Rehab Addict, where she restores old homes to their prior state instead of making them "modern"

But mine is sort of similar? This snippet is just the set up and doesn't include the part where Sansa decides to start a youtube channel for her renovations, (a la WabiSabE, which I used to watch and was probably the inspiration for this fic when I first started writing it like a year ago lol), and everyone starts shipping her with her contractor Jon, who she keeps forcing to be in the videos because she can't really make them without him being in it...

.

Sansa winces as her car hits another bump and jolts her in her seat.

“You owe me,” she huffs out, hands tight around the wheel.

“I know, I know,” Robb's voice comes through her sound system and fills the car. He's distracted, she can tell, and she bites back a snippy comment. Robb's just so busy, he couldn't possibly get away.

That's not fair, the small part of her brain that's still being rational thinks. Of course Robb couldn't drop everything and come out to the middle of nowhere to deal with their Great Uncle Brynden's estate. Robb's got a new baby and his job.

Robb's got a baby, Arya's got her tournaments, Bran has school, and Rickon's still underage. All of her siblings have lives they can't get away from. All except her.

No significant other, no kids. A tenuous career that she can technically do from anywhere.

“Oh no,” she breathes, when the house finally comes into sight through the trees.

“What's wrong?” Robb asks, his full attention back on her.

“Robb,” she whines, the car coming to a pathetic, rolling stop on the overgrown gravel drive. “It's a mess.”

“A mess?”

She doesn't answer, too busy staring at the mansion in front of her. Or, what used to be a mansion, she thinks.

It's still vaguely house-shaped, but... The roof is missing shingles in multiple places, the windows all seem busted out. The steps up to the covered front porch are fine, but the porch itself has a massive sinkhole, and half the wood looks rotted and ready to crumble.

Gods, if this is what the outside looks like...

“What kind of a mess?” Robb asks. She's just about to start listing the many problems when she hears another car approaching.

“I've gotta go,” she tells Robb. “I think the lawyer's here.” She hangs up before Robb can answer, and watches the other car slowly emerge through the trees up the bumpy road, past the broken gates, and onto the circular gravel drive. It stops behind her and a man gets out. She gets out, too, phone clutched in her hand, just in case.

“Miss Stark?” the man asks, and his face splits into a kind smile when she nods. “Perfect, perfect. I'm Samwell Tarly. It's nice to finally meet you.”

Sansa moves forward to shake the lawyer's hand. He isn't what she was expecting. He's young, for one – maybe only a few years older than her. And he seems just as nice in person as he'd been over the phone. She didn't think lawyers came in nice.

“We should have met at your office,” she says, eyeing up the weeds sprouting from between the gravel and brushing against her ankles. “I didn't realize the road here would be so...”

Mr. Tarly laughs. “This place has been abandoned for quite some time,” he agrees. “I never met Brynden myself, but I’d heard about him. Apparently he decided to up and travel the world and left this…”

Sansa looks back at the crumbling mansion and feels her face scrunch up. She tries to smooth it out. “So, how fast do you think I can sell this?” she asks.

That’s when Mr. Tarly’s smile falters. “Well,” he starts, hesitant, “you see, it’s in such a poor state, I can’t imagine anyone would be willing to buy it.”

“But the land must be worth something? They can just knock it down and-”

“Ah,” Mr. Tarly winces, and Sansa’s sentence breaks off, unfinished. “I suppose you didn’t read all the fine print?” At the slow shake of her head, he grimaces. “Riverrun Manor is a historic property. You, legally, are not allowed to tear the structure down. Anything you do needs to go through lots of committee approvals…”

“So what you’re saying,” Sansa says, closing her eyes as reality crashes down around her, “is that literally no one is going to want to buy this.”

“Maybe if you find someone who’s both very rich, and very interested in Riverlands history?”

She opens her eyes and there must be a glare on her face, because Mr. Tarly winces again.

Then she turns back to the manor, and really looks at it this time. Beneath the grime and the moss and the crumbling wood, she can see what it used to be.

“What if I fixed it up a bit?” she asks, turning back to the lawyer. “What if I just did the major repairs, do you think someone would buy it then?”

She doesn’t want to do that, but it beats letting the property sit around even longer and paying the taxes on it. Or, worse, not paying the taxes and having that on her and her sibling’s financial records.

“I’m not a real estate agent,” Mr. Tarly responds, looking at the building thoughtfully. “But this is a good location, lots of historic stuff around. I wouldn’t doubt you could sell it if the building weren’t… well, that.” He waves his hand towards the manor.

“Alright,” she nods. “Maybe we should head to your office to do the paperwork, though? Then I’ll… I guess I’ll look for a contractor?”

Sam nods, and a bright smile lights his face again. “Oh, I know someone you can call!”

[greenhikingboots]

Chispas's Prompt! Obviously! 😁

Haha. Obviously! About this post. I'm going to keep the original ficlet prompt in my inbox so I can eventually reply to it. So that others can start to envision where this is heading, I'm also going to copy/paste it here. And then the first section of what I've written so far will be below the cut. Prompt: Two popular fan-fic writers for the same fandom. Sansa writes sweet modern aus with a fair amount of smut, while Jon is a canon stickler who never has any romance. While on Sansa's laptop one day, one of her friends (I don't care who) leaves a comment on one of Jon's fics asking when x & y are going to kiss already, or something like that. You know...hi-jinks ensue.

Sansa Stark sits cross-legged in the living room she shares with her sister, peering at her reflection in an antique, floor full-length mirror she bought a few months earlier. It dominates the corner where she most likes to get ready — creates the perfect spot for her ritualistic preening and primping ahead of a fun night out. Tonight, for instance, Sansa’s celebrating her birthday with the rest of her family. They’ll soon be dining at one of Winterfell’s highest rated restaurants, The Glass Garden. “This place looks pretentious,” Arya says. She’s sprawled across the couch behind Sansa, most of her body visible in the mirror so long as Sansa tilts her head to the right. When she does, she sees Arya scrolling on her phone, presumably looking at the restaurant's menu. Instead of replying, Sansa shakes her head and continues curling her hair. It’s true she picked somewhere fancy for her twenty-fifth birthday, but, hey, a quarter of a century is a big damn deal, isn't it? She refuses to let Arya make her feel guilty about that. “This salmon dish sounds good, though,” Arya mutters after a moment. And then, without warning, she lets her phone drop to her stomach and says, “Hey, Robb invited Jon. Did he tell you?” Sansa’s heart nearly leaps out of her chest. She’s known Jon Snow, her brother’s best friend, for as long as she can remember. But it has only been since moving back to Winterfell after graduate school that she’s really started to notice him. At first, it was Jon’s improved looks and increased confidence that caught Sansa’s attention. Shallow stuff she told herself she’d be able to dismiss after a week or two of practicing. But then, during the practicing, more and more of Jon’s positive traits stood out. There’s a long list of them. He’s a good listener, a hard worker, and a generous tipper. He loves animals and his mother too. He asks clever questions and makes clever observations. He sticks up for outcasts and underdogs. And his smile — It’s cliche to say that when Jon smiles, he lights up the room. But because his smiles are so hard-won, Sansa’s starting to believe some cliches are true. And Seven save her when she's actually the one to cause Jon’s smile. Sansa pictures it now, without really meaning to, then tries not to smile at her own reflection in the mirror. Arya doesn’t know about her crush on Jon, and that’s how she’d like to keep it. “No, Robb didn’t tell me,” she replies. “But that’s fine. Jon’s practically family too.” Arya nods sagely, like maybe she’s crediting herself for setting a good example — she accepted Jon as family long before Sansa ever did — then begins scrolling on her phone once more. It’s five minutes later, when Sansa’s finished her hair and moved onto her makeup, that Arya breaks their silence, this time saying something totally mundane. “So, uh, I just got an email I need to reply to. It’s too much to type on my phone, so can I use your laptop instead?” Arya’s own laptop is in her bedroom, not far away, but since Sansa can see hers tucked in the corner of their couch, next to Arya’s feet, she grants the favor. “Yeah, sure. Go for it,” she says. Sansa doesn’t think any more about it until a certain sequence of noises piques her interest. After the clattering of Arya’s fingertips slows down, the clicking of the touchpad speeds up. There are so many clicks, in fact, that it seems like Arya’s comparing items on different tabs or following links in search of some hidden answer. After a glance in the mirror at her little sister, it’s more than Sansa's interest that is piqued. It's her nervousness. “Why are you grinning?” she asks. “No reason,” Arya chirps. But she’s fighting back a laugh and smashing the laptop closed as fast as she can. Lying, obviously.