#jonsa countdown

[nyangibun]

Little Wolf: Part II

@jonsa-countdown

PART I: REUNITED - AO3 LINK

PART II: STORM

It had rained endlessly for days. There were puddles the size of the loch outside of her house. If she wasn’t already on maternity leave, she would’ve called in sick to avoid drowning. There was a storm brewing in from the east, according to the weather report. People were urged to avoid driving unless necessary, but there had been an increase in accidents anyway. Sansa tried to avoid listening to the news after that. She didn’t want to know. Three months later, and it still hurt like it had just happened yesterday.

Sansa bounced Chloe on her hip. The baby girl was fussy during a rainstorm. She hated the sound of pitter-patter on the rooftop; it kept her awake and the lack of sleep was beginning to drain the both of them. Sansa couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had a good six hours of uninterrupted sleep.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Sansa murmured quietly, walking into the kitchen. The cup of tea she had made for herself sat cold and forgotten - immediately neglected as soon as the baby monitor started to echo with Chloe’s cries. “It’s just the rain. We like the rain.”

The baby girl sniffed and stared up at Sansa with wide teary eyes. The look was eerily like disbelief - like this nine-month-old had understood what Sansa was trying to say and she clearly didn’t buy it.

“Okay, maybe you don’t like it now,” she amended, chuckling. She turned away from the kitchen, deciding tea was not going to help now anyways, and went back into the lounge. She settled onto the sofa and wrapped them both up in a large quilt. “But you will one day, Chloe. Rain signifies rebirth. That’s what we’re doing.” She poked her chubby cheeks gently. “We’re cleansing away the bad and we’re starting anew. Together, me and you. We’re a family now.”

Chloe blew raspberries up at her. It wasn’t much of a response, but it still made Sansa smile in spite of the heavy weight on her chest. It was still so hard. Everything about this situation was so painfully surreal. Her nights, in the moments she could find sleep, were consumed with flashing images of red and blue sirens, the sound of screeching tires, and lifeless eyes staring back at her. They were so demanding, so judging - as if they were there to say she wasn’t doing enough, strong enough or brave enough to weather this new path her life had taken.

Sansa cuddled Chloe tighter, pressing her nose up against the baby’s temple. “I love you, lil’ wolf,” she said softly. “I love you so much, but I’m so scared I’ll mess this all up. You deserve so much better than I can give. You deserve your real parents.”

Oh, how Robb would’ve doted on his little girl; how much he would’ve wanted to watch her grow up, intimidate her boyfriends or girlfriends as she was picked up for a date - oh, it would’ve been so sweet to have seen that.

Unbidden tears ran down her cheeks. She normally tried to reign it in for Chloe, but the loss was still so new. Every time she looked at this little girl, she saw Robb’s hair, the cheeky smile on her little face and Margaery’s eyes. She saw so much of their love in her. How could she replace them like that? How could she sit here and claim to be this girl’s mother when she had such a wonderful one?

The door creaked open and the wind howled from the outside, droplets of rain flying around the room for the five seconds it took for the person to close the door.

“It’s pissing it down outside. You’re lucky you don’t have to -” He paused, stopping just a few feet away from her. “Sans, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” She kissed Chloe’s forehead and hid her face in the quilt. “I’m fine, Jon.”

She heard a thump from where he must’ve dropped the bags of grocery. A second later, she felt his arm wrap around her. “Tell me.” He tilted her face with his free hand so she’d be forced to look at him. The tears had stopped, but they stained her cheeks, drying like visible tracks of weakness. She hated letting anyone see her like this. But it always seemed to be Jon who found her at her worst. “You’re not fine, so don’t bother lying.”

Chloe made a displeased noise then, as she wriggled in Sansa’s arms, trying to get to Jon. The action seemed to startle him, as if he had forgotten about the tiny girl for a moment. He pried Chloe loose from the quilt and kissed her soundly on one cheek and then the other, causing her to giggle loudly.

“Always want to be the centre of attention, don’t you, Chlo?” Jon laughed. “You’re just like your father, you know that?”

“And her mother too,” Sansa reminded him, to which he laughed again.

“Aye, and her mother.”

In the quiet that befell them, Sansa listened to the sound of the rain outside. It was hard to believe in the words she spoke to Chloe when her own grief was so consuming, like a black hole sucking her very existence inward and ripping it apart. She held it in as best as she could, but Sansa was only human. She could only withstand pain for so long.

“You don’t have to be brave in front of us.” Jon was watching her, one hand cupping the back of Chloe, while the other gently circled her wrist. “We’re both here for you.” His thumb rubbed soothing circles along her skin.

A sob broke free in spite of her resistance. She shook her head. “I’m just tired… I’ll be fine.”

“When was the last time you slept?” He edged forward to better study her; she knew he was taking note of the circles under her eyes and the pallid complexion of her skin. He’d always been observant. “Sansa, answer me.”

“I don’t know. Last night for a couple hours,” she said, averting her gaze. Lying was pointless anyways. And she no longer had the energy to put up a front with Jon, not like she did whenever her mother or her siblings came around.

“Okay.” The word was weighted, holding heavier meaning than its two syllables, but she couldn’t read through it this time. Not in the way she normally could with Jon.

Another silence followed, and then Jon was standing. “She’s asleep. I’m going to go put her down. I’ll be right back.”

She watched his retreating form and marveled for a moment over how easily those two could pass for father and daughter. They had the same mop of curly dark hair, the same quiet, easy temperament. Oh, this was dangerous territory. Sansa could see that. But in order to ease the panic so ready to flare up inside of her, she escaped to the kitchen and filled up the kettle with water. She emptied her mug from earlier and replaced it with two new blue rose-printed mugs - a gift from her mother when she moved away for university seven years ago.

Sansa heard him enter the room. She could feel his eyes following her as she moved around the tiny kitchen to prepare the tea. “Still milk and no sugar?” The confirming ‘aye’ led to another bout of silence. It was becoming a regular occurrence. She thought it might have ceased when he moved permanently back to Scotland, but there it was, an ever-looming chasm between them.

“Let me move in.’

The mug tipped in her surprise. She managed to hold on long enough to drop it with a clatter on the countertop, but hot liquid spilled onto her hand. “Shit,” she ground out, sucking her injured fingers in between her lips.

“God, I’m so sorry, Sans.” Jon was beside her in seconds, pulling her fingers away and and tugging her gently towards the sink. He ran the tap over her hand, tentatively turning it this way and that so the cold water could ease the heat. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not bloody okay,” she snapped, scowling at him. “You just asked to move in with me. What the hell, Jon?”

He sighed, sounding almost as exhausted as she felt. “I can’t look out for you two if I’m never around. It makes sense.”

“Us living together does not make sense,” Sansa fervently argued. “It would be a disaster, Jon, and you know it.”

Jon dropped her hand as if she had been the one to drop scalding water on him. The hurt was there even if only for a fraction of a second. “I don’t know that,” he said softly, though no less firmly. “Do you really think we wouldn’t work well together in raising Chloe? Or is this about -”

“I think we’re already doing so much,” Sansa interrupted. “I don’t need you to give up your life for me. I’m fine on my own.”

“Oh, I know.” The bitterness was unmistakeable, and she had half a mind to tell him off for dredging up things he shouldn’t, but he spoke before she could get a word in. “But you don’t need to do this alone. I’m just as much her parent now as you are. I want to be there for her, Sansa. Please.”

The expression in his eyes left her breathless. He was already there, she realised. Where Sansa continued to struggle with being a mother and not an aunt to Chloe, Jon was already there. He already loved her as he would his own daughter; he didn’t want to lose a minute of his time with her, and how could Sansa be so cruel as to keep him away?

“Promise me the minute this doesn’t work, you move out.”

Again, hurt flashed in his grey eyes, and Sansa had to swallow down the guilt. She needed to protect Chloe as much as she did herself. There was a long and complicated past that Sansa couldn’t expose the baby girl to. If it became a problem, she had to make sure Jon was willing to leave.

“I promise.”

“Okay…”

They stared at each other for some time after that. A hundred different stories passing between them in silent contemplation - a past they could no longer return to, a present they could hardly keep up with, and a future they could only hope for.

Abruptly, the sky thundered above, like a thousand dragons roaring overhead to conquer lands unseen. Half a second later, the baby monitor wailed. Just like clockwork.

“I’ll get this,” Jon said, touching her forearm. He stepped forward, hesitant, and then kissed her on the cheek. “Get some rest, Sansa. I’ll wake you up for supper.”

“Are you -”

“Sleep, Sans. I’m here now.”

He retreated from the kitchen. Sansa sighed, rubbing her eyes, and looked around the room. The mugs of tea once more forgotten, likely cold now. She wasn’t up for tea anymore anyways. As petty as she wanted to be about not needing Jon as much as she really did, her body had different plans and she begrudgingly dragged her feet to her bedroom. The second her head hit the pillow, Sansa was out like a light, three months of grieving and trying to be a mother to an orphaned child taking its toll on her.

When she next woke, the sun had all but disappeared from the sky; although it hadn’t been that present as of late here in this part of Scotland. Winterfell had always been a town cursed with abysmal weather. She pulled herself up to a sitting position, bracing her back up against the headboard of the bed.

It was pointless to wait out this conversation now that she was awake. But even as the phone rang, her heart thumped anxiously.

“Hi, hun. You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Sansa answered, speaking quietly in fear of Jon being on the other side of the door. “I did something stupid, Jeyne.”

“It was only a matter of time,” her best friend joked, but when she didn’t laugh in response, she heard a sigh come in from the other line. “What happened, Sans?”

“Jon came over and… he asked to move in with me and I said yes.” Now that the words were out, Sansa found she couldn’t stop talking. “I know it’s a bad idea, a terrible one even, but Jeyne, you should’ve seen his face. It wasn’t about me or what happened. This was about Chloe and he loves her so much. I know it pains him to be away from her, and… and how can I keep him from her, right?”

There was a long pause before, “oh Sansa.” Her best friend sighed again. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You two have been trying to make this thing work while having one feet in and one feet out. For Chloe’s sake, it’s good you’re doing this.”

“Really?” Sansa had to admit the level of incredulity in her voice was bordering on dramatic, but after all the fuss Jeyne kicked up about how she had to remember to protect her heart if she was ever going to survive Jon Snow being back in town, she expected more.

“I know, I know,” Jeyne said. “But Chloe needs you both. That’s all that matters right now.”

Of course, her friend was right - again.

“So you think it’s a good idea that Jon moves in?” she had to make sure.

“For Chloe, yes. For you? No.”

“Great…” Sansa thumped her head back against the headboard. This was just great.

“I know. But for what it’s worth, I think you’ll be okay. All three of you.”

“Do you really think so?”

Jeyne chuckled. “You and Jon love Chloe more than anything else in the world. And past or no past, you both love each other too. In whatever capacity, it doesn’t matter. You trust each other.”

“Yeah…” she murmured. In whatever capacity. Somehow that didn’t ease the dread curdling in her stomach. Somehow the capacity mattered to her; she just didn’t quite know in which way she wanted it yet.

Barely ten minutes after she hung up with Jeyne, Jon came to knock on her door. She followed him out to the lounge where her dining table had been unfolded and placed to the side. There were two bowls of spaghetti bolognese set on opposite ends and a bottle of milk on the side where a high chair had been placed.

“Roses, really Jon?”

“They’re for Chloe,” he said, a faint smirk on his lips, as he bent over to kiss the baby girl on her forehead. She giggled. “She’s quite the princess, you know? Kept babbling about ruling Scotland and seceding from Britain.”

“Oh, how very Jacobite of her.” Sansa rolled her eyes at him and settled herself into the seat. “We’ll make a revolutionary of her yet.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he said, meeting her eyes and laughing.

She twirled her fork in the spaghetti and took a generous helping. It’d been too long since she had a real hot meal; the realisation of this becoming clear to her as the homemade taste satiated a previously unknown craving.

“This is delicious.” She glanced up towards him. “Jon, thank you. I mean it. This is really good.”

He shrugged, but there was a tinge of pink on his cheeks. “You won’t be saying that when you find out I only know how to cook three dishes.”

“Well, isn’t that a coincidence? I only know how to cook four dishes. Together, we can have a different meal for each day of the week.”

“What do you know, we fit together perfectly.”

The words so teasing in their intention quickly charged the atmosphere between them with something unspoken. It could’ve gotten so much more awkward if Chloe didn’t suddenly decide she was unhappy with her bottle and threw it to the ground.

“Told you. Princess Chloe is unhappy with the state of the Commonwealth, Sansa.”

And just like that, the tension dissipated.

Just like the storm outside.

[jonsa-creatives]

Take a look at all the Jonsa Events planned for this year...

Hey guys!

If you’re anything like us, then you’re super excited for all the great Jonsa events soon to be blowing up your dash! It seems this year that we are going to be blessed with a LOT going on in the world of Jonsa fanworks - if the amount of planned events is anything to go by anyway. So, to make sure you don’t miss any that you’d like to take part in or simply want to follow - here’s a little round up of what to get excited about....

Jonsa Countdown - Hosted by @jonsa-countdown 1-16th July

Jonsa S7 Summer Challenge - Hosted by @jonsa-creatives 10-16th July

Jonsa Exchange - Hosted by @jonsaexchange - all year, bi-monthly - first sign up closes 30th June, first gift day is 28th July.

JonxSansa Remix - Hosted by @jonxsansafanfiction - 1-7th September *tbc

Jonsa Week - Hosted by @jonsa-week - 22-28th October

....if you know of any others that we have missed out - please do give us a heads-up! 

~ Amy & Elle xx

[wolfqueenkissedbyfire]

Chapter Thirteen: Valar Morghulis of The North Remembers Posted to AO3!! Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18901495/chapters/54078193

Sansa joins him in the massive chair in front of the fire as he pulls her up on his lap. “I know we’ve prepared for weeks and I knew this day would come eventually but… I’m not ready Jon. I can be brave for Bran and Arya, for our people, even for our babe but right now its too much to handle. I can’t lose you. If I could, I would fight out there with you, my love.”

He strokes her hair to soothe her, nuzzling her cheek to whisper, “That would be glorious to behold, sweet girl. I just might have to teach you after all this is over… We’ll spar at dusk until the sight of you, with your rosy cheeks, sweat clinging to your red curls and your breathless grunts drive me mad with lust. Then I’d take you until you lie boneless and satisfied in our bed.”

Sansa leans into his touch, slightly more mollified. “I’m holding you to that. Kill the Night King and come home to me, my love.”

“You can count on that, my Queen.” His fingers sink into her arse, eyes darkening, “Now to make the most of our time together.” He leans into her ear, hands sliding down to pull her closer. “Take your dress off immediately before I rip it off you.”

[paceyrememberseverything]

4 DAYS!!!! Who is ready?!

Jonsa photocredit: sansasnw Twitter

[kitten1618x]

Well this is it Jonsa fam, tonight is the night and it’s been a long road. This is my regularly scheduled pep talk, where I remind you all that CONTEXT matters—and this is only episode 01, so pay attention to all the little plot threads that will begin unraveling (you know, all the stuff the antis claimed wouldn’t matter—because, it will).

As per ush, I’ll be tagging my episode recap as #got afterthoughts, and anything ep 01x08 that might be spoilery (for those in different time zones and such) as #got rants (in addition to #got s8 spoilers) in case you want to blacklist those tags until you watch the episode.

My inbox will be open after the episode airs for questions, comments, rants, venting and/or moral support. We got this, fam! ❤️

Also, (and because I miss typing this) Jonsa is endgame, it is known. 😘

[jonsadreamofspring]

Dear Jonsa fam!

The countdown to the spring blossoms & autumn leaves event starts today! It’s still two months away, but we’re excited, and we hope you all feel the same way!

We’re not only counting down to the event, the full list of prompts with instructions will be posted one week from now.

However, during this coming week, starting from today, the prompts for the corresponding day will be posted to help inspire you!

💖💕

[wildflower-daydreamer]

This Year’s Love - a New Year’s Eve Jonsa drabble

A little New Year’s Eve drabble inspired by the song This Year’s Love by David Gray...

The New Year’s Eve party was going strong in the Stark house. Alcohol was flowing rather freely with Robb acting as their pseudo bartender, convinced he made the best concoctions. In all fairness, they were good and quite strong. By this late hour, some inhibitions were long gone, tipsiness was running rampant, the music was loud, and the partying voices seemed to be even louder. Because of this, Sansa decided to head outside when her mom’s picture popped up on her now-vibrating phone. Throwing her peacoat over her festively-sequined mini dress, she exited into the night through the front door. 

Ned and Cat had opted for a ski trip to ring in the new year and, after much begging, allowed their kids to throw a large party at their house. Convincing her mom that everything was going well, nothing was broken or stained, Sansa wished her parents a happy new year and slipped the phone into her pocket. Instead of heading right back inside to the warmth, she took a moment to herself in the brisk darkness, walking down the driveway and into the quiet car-lined street. She could hear their party from out there, the loud voices and music muffled. She took a deep breath; the cold air bit at her lungs, but a smile still spread across her lips.

Jon was inside. Something was happening between them. She wasn’t sure what it was yet, but she knew it was good. They had been spending a lot of time together as of late, growing closer than they ever had before. And the way they looked at each other now - well, they certainly were no longer hiding whatever affection they had for one another. Touches lingered. As did hugs and kisses on the cheek. If Sansa was correct in guessing Jon feeling the same way about her as she did him, all they had to do was take that last jump into something real.

But that kind of jump had been a difficult one for Sansa to make the past year. She was more guarded now when it came to matters of the heart and her cautionary attitude was well deserved. First, there was Joffrey, who she thought she was madly in love with and would end up marrying. Ah, the delusions you have when you’re young. He was a spoiled, demanding man-child who became verbally abusive. Then, Loras. Sweet and gentle with her, Sansa thought she found someone to treat her well. Too bad he didn’t seem the least bit interested in her intimately, even as they were officially a couple. Desiring some sort of passion after that, Sansa found Ramsey. What she thought was passion, ended up being jealousy and control. Once his hand struck her, she was gone. And once again, Sansa decided to forget the different hurts her heart had gone through and jumped right into a relationship with Harry. He seemed perfect. Handsome, attentive, nice - Sansa let her guard down and fell. This prince wasn’t so charming, she eventually learned Harry was a cheater and that there wasn’t one week during their relationship that he hadn’t been with another woman. After that, she decided to be more careful with her heart. 

And now, Sansa had been alone for some time. And that was perfectly good with her. She was so much happier than she had been with any of those old boyfriends.

But now there was Jon. And Sansa had begun to realize her guard was dropping. All the different ways she was hurt by men in the past didn’t matter when it came to Jon. He wasn’t them. This was a man. A good man. A man who respected her and was proud of her accomplishments. Someone who was dependable, giving, passionate, and kind. And, if Sansa was reading the signals right, Jon was a man who wanted her. Without fail, a tingle would always travel up her spine, making the corners of her lips curve into a delighted smile, when she thought of the way he looked at her.

“Hey you.“ 

Jon’s voice shook her out of her little reverie. Sansa turned and found him walking out into the street to join her. She gave him a welcoming, warm smile and held out her hand to him.

“What are you doing out here? It’s about to be midnight,“ Jon asked, taking her hand and holding it tight as he came up next to her.

“Enjoying the quiet peacefulness in the middle of the street for just a few minutes.“

“I do like the quietness.“

They fell into a comfortable silence when Jon wrapped his arm around her, rubbing it up and down to give her warmth. Sansa laid her head against his chest and closed her eyes. Him holding her like that just felt so right. At that moment, she knew it was time to make that jump, time to fall for this man.

Inside the house, the music died down and the voices ramped up. The countdown to midnight had begun. 

Ten! The voices of the party revelers sounded even louder now. 

Sansa felt Jon’s lips give her forehead a kiss. Everything within her seemed to melt at the contact. Lifting her head from his chest, she found his eyes and they searched hers.

Five!

They shared a soft, knowing smile with one another.

Four!

Jon’s hand cradled her face, his thumb running feather-light over the corner of her upturned lips.

Three!

Sansa gladly gave up the control on her heart.

Two!

Jon’s hand gently tilted her face up towards his as her arms wrapped around his body and held him flush against her.

One!

Their lips met. Soft and pliable against one another. His scruffy beard against her smooth skin.

The voices rang from inside. Happy New Year!

Jon and Sansa’s kiss continued as they stood on that dark street.

It was too soon to speak of love, but Sansa knew their love was inevitable. This one was going to last.

[jonsaholidays]

❄️Sign Ups are open!!❄️

Sign up here!

Countdown till sign ups close on September 23rd at 10PM/20h UTC

Jonsa Holiday Fic Exchange is a gift exchange for the ship Jon Snow/Sansa Stark from Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire, similar to Secret Santas and other fanwork gift exchanges. Participants will write and receive a 1,000 word minimum completed fic.

Sign up here!

[azulaahai]

“Crappy New Year” ❖ a Jonsa modern AU fic ❖ @jonsasecretsanta2018 gift for @queenalysansa ❖ I really hope you enjoy this, it’s a fluff fest, happy holidays (in advance haha) and I wish you an amazing 2019! ♥ ❖ also on ao3

Summary: To distract her hands from their sudden urge to touch him, she lifted her glass and took another sip, looking up towards the ceiling to avoid eye contact. Jon did the same - and they both saw it at the exact same time.

Hanging above them was a mistletoe.

It had been a crappy christmas, and it was going to be a crappy new year, Sansa could already tell.

Breaking up with Harry on Christmas Eve of all days had been bad enough. Attending a New Year’s Eve party filled to the brim with happy couples just waiting for the it’s-new-years!-excuse to make out in public might be more than she could handle.

Not that she missed Harry - or the way she had begun acting when she was with him. Not even a little bit. Sansa had just never been that good at being single. Perhaps that should become her new year’s resolution - to be content on her own. Sansa smiled bitterly at the thought. She wasn’t in the mood for motivational goals.

She wasn’t in the mood for a party, either. But she’d promised Robb she would attend the combined moving-out and New Year’s Eve party that he was having in the apartment he shared with Jon and Theon - Robb was going to move in with his fiancé, Jeyne, in a couple of weeks. He had been oddly emotional this whole christmas at the prospect of his new, settled life, teary-eyed as if he was the recently-dumped one. Oh well - Sansa didn’t mind. And she’d said she’d go to the party, Harry or no Harry. (No Harry. Definitely no Harry.)

Their entire social circle just seemed so lovey-dovey all of a sudden, and Sansa didn’t think it was just because of her own break-up that she thought it strange: Arya and Gendry were still going strong, Bran and Meera had finally begun dating after years of mutual pining and seemed very happy, Margaery and Asha had officially become an item a month or so back and Robb, no matter how sentimental he had been recently, was still head over heels in love with Jeyne. Even sodding Theon had a girlfriend, for fuck’s sake.

Not Jon, though. Another reason Sansa wasn’t exactly looking forward to the party: Jon would be there, recently single just like her, after a bad, long-lasting break-up from Ygritte. Jon always made Sansa nervous, these days. And as they would be the only singles in a sea of couples that had wanted to set the two of them up for ages - things could get really awkward really fast.

***

Sansa stood in the doorway, having snuck off to escape pitying small talk from Jeyne as a not entirely sober Robb kissed Jeyne’s neck in a way that had Sansa having to fight to keep from making disgusted faces. She took a deep breath and had another sip of punch. Fifteen minutes until midnight, and then she could go home, slide into her pyjamas, cry if necessary, eat ice cream and celebrate the new year by not getting out of bed the next day. Fifteen minutes. Sansa could do this.

Ruffling could be heard from the kitchen, someone saying uhm, no and someone else saying uhm, YES and a third person saying uhm, Arya, can you calm down a little? Then a giggling Arya came out into the hallway, pushing an embarrassed-looking Jon before her. Arya led Jon to Sansa’s doorway-of-peace, put him into place opposite Sansa as if buckling in a toddler, said “Jon - Sansa, Sansa - Jon”, then disappeared back to Gendry in the kitchen during another fit of giggles.

“Hi.” Sansa was already blushing, for no reason in particular. Jon gave her an apologetic smile and a shrug. The gesture made a button in his shirt open, revealing an almost indecent amount of skin. (Sansa definitely wasn’t looking.) To distract her hands from their sudden urge to touch him, she lifted her glass and took another sip, looking up towards the ceiling to avoid eye contact. Jon did the same - and they both saw it at the exact same time.

Hanging above them was a mistletoe.

Sansa looked at Jon. Jon looked at Sansa.

It was he who broke the awkward silence.

“Oh. Didn’t know we had those.” He glanced back up at the mistletoe.

“I thought you were supposed to take them down after christmas”, Sansa said, blushing again - god, why was she always blushing?

“Oh, well, you know us”, he said with the most antagonizing, almost shy grin. “Not very organized.”

“Aren’t you supposed to kiss me now? Under the mistletoe?” Sansa said the words without thinking. It was supposed to be some sort of joke - ha ha, can you imagine, you having to kiss me because of some stupid superstition, glad we’re not doing that, huh. But Jon didn’t laugh. Instead, the silence returned, louder and more awkward than ever. Sansa looked down at her feet, her cheeks bright red.

“Well”, she said when she couldn’t bare the quiet anymore. “If we wait ...” - she checked her phone to see how much time was left until midnight - “eleven more minutes we can do a combined mistletoe and new year’s kiss. Extra good luck. Two for the price of one, you know.” That was obviously a joke too, but Jon still wasn’t laughing. He was smiling at her - not a teasing grin, but a sweet, almost nervous smile that made her stomach flutter as if she was in middle school and had just been asked to dance.

“Midnight kiss it is, then.” Jon smiled.

“That rhymed.”

“I meant it to.”

“Show-off.”

“How dare you.”

They both smiled and took another sip to drink, almost simultaneously. Sansa checked her phone again, more relaxed now.

“Eight minutes,” she announced.

“Are you ready? Are you hydrated? Do you have your eyes on the finish line?”

“Wait, are we actually doing this?”

“Are you chickening out?” he teased, but his eyes asked the same question seriously.

“Never.” (She couldn’t chicken out. That would mean abandoning the Stark honor. It was just about that! Had absolutely nothing to do with those grey eyes or the way that shirt made his arms look.)

“Six minutes.” The others were beginning to stir in the living room, getting ready to count down the new year. Sansa didn’t feel the need to join them. She was quite content here.

“Jon?” she said. Perhaps she was drunk. Perhaps she would regret this later. (She had a sneaking suspicion she wouldn’t.)

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something, and you promise that you’ll forget I ever asked?”

“Ominous, but alright. Bring it on, Stark.” She hesitated. Silence for a few seconds. In the distance, the roar of the fireworks outside could be heard.

“Come on”, he urged gently. “Ask away. I’ll forget this ever happened, remember?”

Oh, what the hell. Here went nothing -

“Can I -”

“THREE MINUTES ‘TIL MIDNIGHT!” someone shouted in the other room. Theon, judging from the obnoxious tone. Arya and Gendry came running out of the kitchen, with suspiciously red cheeks.

“What?” Jon insisted when the pair had run by them, not breaking eye contact with Sansa, looking annoyed at the interruption.

“Could I - could I touch your hair?”

He burst out laughing.

“You want to touch my hair? That’s what you wanted to ask me?”

“You have nice hair! And I just - I can’t really imagine what it feels like, you know?” She was rambling, probably drunker than she had realized, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “Because, you know, it looks soft and all, but at the same time it kind of has that ... rough texture, you know? Like I wouldn’t be that surprised if it just felt like ... like ... sandpaper, or something.”

“It doesn’t.” The fact that he hadn’t run from the room screaming in terror at how creepy she was being spoke well of him.

“Prove it.”

Obedient, he bent forward, making her smile as she reached out her hand and carefully, gently, like she was petting a cat, stroked his hair. She almost giggled at the situation, but when he stood back up again there was a seriousness in his eyes, a warmth that she could feel down to her toes.

”So … what’s the judgement? Soft?” he asked.

”No. Not sandpaper either. It feels like … like …” He leaned in a little towards her as she spoke, and suddenly Sansa stopped herself.

”Like what?” he said.

”I don’t know”, she murmured. He was so close, and his eyes were so grey. ”I think I may have to conduct further studies.” He smiled at that.

”I’m at your service anytime. In the name of science, of course.”

”Of course.”

”ONE MINUTE!” Jeyne screamed at the top of her lungs in the other room, and Sansa felt herself getting genuinely nervous, as if she was ten years younger. She peered up at Jon and didn’t think she imagined it - he did look a little nervous himself. That in turn calmed Sansa down a little.

When the countdown began in the living room - ”ten! nine!” - Jon placed a somewhat shaky hand on the doorpost behind her head, his other hand reaching up to a tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear. It was terribly cheesy. (Sansa loved it.)

”- six, five - ” Sansa huffed a breathless little laugh as he inched closer, a little awkwardly. Jon smiled, but raised his eyebrows in question. Okay? She nodded.

”- three, two -”

Sansa’s eyes fluttered shut, heightening her other senses; the feel of Jon’s hand as he hesitantly placed it on her waist, the smell of his cologne, the loudness of fireworks erupting outside and the sound of laughter from her friends and family from the living room.

”HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

And as Jon pressed his lips to hers, Sansa found herself almost daring to hope that this would not be such a crappy new year after all.

[99vernon]

What are SANSA’s “magical powers”?

(Contains - s. 8 spoilers S.7 spoilers- mostly speculation)

We’ve seen Arya and Bran find their true magical gifts, even Robb found out he was a skilled leader.  Dany became the mother of dragons, and Cersei found her  intelligence and wit as she played the Game of Thrones. Not to mention Jaime and Jon -mboth excellent swordsman and warriors.  

So, what about Sansa? What are Sansa’s special powers (beside what she learnt from Littlefinger and Cersei. Let’s explore.

1)  In s.2 ep. 9 Blackwater – Sansa was forced to Kiss Joffrey’s sword -Widow’s wail- before he went off to war.  A flicker of light shined as she kissed it. In s7 ep 4 Jaimie used Widow’s Wail while fighting Dany’s army. Jaimie was easily slaying the Dothraki men using this sword with his weak hand!  Wow! The sword was magical!Possible S.8 Spoiler - Sansa may kiss Jon Snow’s LongClaw sword before he goes off to war. Lets see what happens to Long Claw.

2)  The Doll Ned Stark gave Sansa in s.1 ep 3. I believe is magical. The doll was meant as a replacement for Sansa’s dire wolf Lady. Was the doll protecting Sansa while she was in King’s Landing? The doll is currently in Kings Landing hmm. Will we see it again? I think believe so.

3)  I still believe the clothing that Sansa makes is magical. Sansa will get armor in S.8 (We only have 6 episodes left. This one may not come to fruition. lol)

4)  Possible S.8 spoiler – My favorite!

Throughout GOT Sansa has been dreaming of marrying a prince and having many babies with him. Characters in GOT thrones have been talking about Sansa having babies too - Joffrey, Thereon, Cersei, Ramsey, Roose Bolton, Margaery Tyrell etc. I believe there will be something special about Sansa’s birthing abilities and JONSA’ s children. 

Anyway, the countdown continues to the big REVEAL of Jon and Sansa’s epic love story!

[nyangibun]

Little Wolf: Part I

@jonsa-countdown

PART I: REUNITED

Her mother looked tired. There were dark shadows under her eyes and loose tendrils of hair escaping from her normally kept bun. She needed a break from all of this. Sansa could handle the arrangements and the guests. Her mother didn’t need to shoulder all of the responsibility. It would do her some good to find rest amidst the chaos that would inevitably befall them in a few short hours.

“Mum.” She approached warily, footsteps light on the wooden floorboards as if she was a lion sneaking up on a gazelle, but even as tentative as she moved, her mother still startled. Wide blue eyes, glassy and unfocused, looked back at her. Sansa placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let me do this, please.”

“The catering isn’t even here yet,” her mother said. “I told them to be here by one, but they’re not here. We can’t – we can’t start without the food, Sansa.”

Her grip tightened. “Mum, go rest. I’ll deal with the catering.”

There was a long pause as the two Stark women stared at each other. Her mother appeared to be considering refusing the offer, but thankfully, exhaustion wore out and she nodded, retiring to her room. Sansa gave a sigh of relief once the door clicked shut. It was easier to think with her mother gone. Since it happened, her thoughts had been loud, pulsing, achingly present and jumbled. With the silence of the house as company, Sansa could still it into something more manageable. She’d always been good at compartmentalising.

The call to the caterer went as smoothly as she’d expect from today, which meant they would arrive half an hour before the guests were to arrive. It was better than no catering at all, so she was resigned to letting that one particular problem go. Then, Sansa dealt with the florist and the arrangements for after. She did everything she could do, and yet all the while knowing she was avoiding the one thing she had to do. It was a problem she couldn’t face right now, figuratively and literally, and that might make her the most awful person in the world, but couldn’t she be awful for just one day? For just today?

The backdoor opened around two. At first, Sansa had hoped it was the caterers coming half an hour early, but the voices reached her from where she sat in the kitchen and her heart sank to the soles of her feet. Not the caterers. No, it was the one person she didn’t want to see right now, more than the problem she’d been avoiding all day.

“Sans.” Her sister took one look at her and sighed. She wrapped her in her tiny arms, face pressed against Sansa’s chest. “You look like shit.”

That drew out a surprised laugh that Sansa didn’t know was still in her. She tightened her own arms around her sister. “Yeah, so do you.”

“Mum?”

“Asleep for now,” she said. “The boys?”

“Out back in the tree house.” Arya pulled back and glanced over her shoulder. “So are you two just going to ignore each other for the rest of your lives?”

Sansa sighed, pulling her hair over one shoulder to plait it. A nervous tell. “I’m not ignoring him.”

“You’re not even speaking directly to him,” her sister pointed out. “Jon, c’mon. At least you be the mature one here.”

She heard him move from where he’d been standing in the doorway and she finally tore her gaze up to look at him. His curls were still as unruly as they’d always been – soft, bouncy and flopping over his forehead. And he looked good in his black shirt, the broadness of his shoulders filling it out nicely. But Sansa had always been attracted to Jon. This wasn’t new, nor would it ever stop being new for her. What was new was the droop in his shoulders, the way his eyes never really quite reflected the half-smile on his lips and the way he looked at her, like he couldn’t quite understand her anymore. It had been over a year since Sansa last saw him. Maybe he didn’t anymore. Maybe no one did anymore.

“Arya, can you give us a minute?” The gravelly tone of his voice made goosebumps dance along her arms. She ignored it, opting to watch as her sister left without any fanfare.

“We have to talk about this.”

Sansa ran her fingers through her plait until it pulled her hair loose again. She couldn’t meet his eyes. A coward’s move, but she was a coward today. “I don’t know what there is to say.”

“We have to figure this out, Sansa!” He was aggravated, she realised, finally looking at him and seeing the careful mask begin to crack. He could never hide himself from her. That was what was terrifying about being near him. “We have to do this. For them. It’s what they wanted, right?”

Sansa was like her mother in many ways. They were pragmatic women, skilled in knowing when to push emotions aside to get things done, cool and calm under pressure, but never with him. She broke every time.

“Don’t you think I know that?” she snapped, standing up to face him. “It’s all I’ve thought about! I just don’t know what to do! I don’t know how they could think that I’d be a good –” Sansa stopped herself, unable to even say the word. She shook her head. “I’m not ready for this, Jon. I don’t want any of this.”

She crumbled before him; a pathetic mess when she should be strong. Sansa hid her face in her hands, capturing her tears against the crevices of her palms. She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t ready. Not like this.

Warm, calloused hands circled both her wrists and pried them from her face. Jon studied her, those grey eyes feeling like they could reach inside of her soul and pull out the secrets she kept so hidden to her heart. “Me neither,” he whispered. He dropped her hands, but used his thumb to wipe away her tears. “But we’re here now. We have to do it.”

“What if I mess it up?” She didn’t want to consider even the possibility of what she was asking, but this was a world beyond her realm of understanding. Failure seemed so likely, so inevitable, that she couldn’t help the insecurity from surging inside of her and choking her lungs of oxygen.

“I’ll be there to help clean it up,” Jon said. “And if I mess it up, you’ll be there too. Sansa, we can do this, but only together.”

“They’re asking a lot from us,” Sansa replied, shaking her head. “They must’ve known that.”

He laughed. “I think they always thought if it happened we’d figure it out by then. I don’t think they expected us to have to do it or that it’d happen so early on.”

Sansa took his hand, squeezing tightly. “We’ll be okay, won’t we?”

“We will,” Jon answered her.

He tugged on her hand and pulled her along with him, leading Sansa away from the kitchen and up the stairs. She knew where he was taking her, but she didn’t want to pull her hand back. He comforted her in ways she’d long denied from herself. Today, she needed him, and she suspected he needed her too.

The brightly painted door opened with a creak as Jon poked his head through. The two of them walked towards the centre of the room, hand-in-hand, and peered into the crib. There in a pale lilac onesie was a six-month-old girl with a crop of dark hair and beautiful blue eyes. She gurgled, blinking up at them as she reached her tiny fists forward. Sansa’s heart simultaneously swelled and ached for this darling girl.

“She won’t remember them,” Jon said softly, dropping Sansa’s hand to cradle the baby in his arms. “She won’t know.”

“We’ll have to tell her.”

“When she’s old enough,” he said firmly. He met her eyes. “But if we do this, we can’t just be surrogates, Sansa. You know this, right?”

That was what she’d been afraid of, but there were no other options. This girl was her responsibility now, whether Sansa was ready or not, and she would fight tooth and nail to make sure she did right by her. “We’ll be her parents, I know.”

They descended into silence then, both too transfixed with watching the baby chew on Jon’s shirt. In light of what had happened, it should be impossible to feel such happiness, but being here in this moment to witness something so inane made the world just that touch brighter.

“For what it’s worth,” Jon spoke quietly. “Robb and Margaery didn’t make a mistake when they chose you. You’ll be a great mother, Sansa. I believe that.”

Sansa leaned forward to drop a kiss on Jon’s cheek. “You’ll be a great father too.” She then dropped another kiss onto the baby’s cheek. “Isn’t that right, Chloe?” The baby giggled that melodic, wondrous sound that only a child could make. “I think she agrees with me.”

“Yeah, that’s why.”

“Whatever happens, we’ll love her as much as we loved them,” Sansa said to him, placing a hand over his arm. “As much as they loved her. That’s all we can do. Everything else, we’ll figure out.”

“Together,” Jon nodded, smiling at her. It was the soft kind of smile that had once captured her heart so intensely in its web. She wasn’t convinced it still didn’t have that same effect, but there were more important things now. What Jon and Sansa might have had was a past they didn’t have time to explore. Chloe was priority. That was what mattered.

But she had to say something, a feeling she couldn’t readily deny even if she wanted to. “I’m glad you’re home, Jon. I’m glad you’re back even under these circumstances.”

“Me too.”

[winkydinkle]

Jonsa Drabble

Day three- Modern AU & Snowflakes

@jonsadrabbles

Just for background info, Snowglobe music festival is a New Year’s Eve event which takes place in Lake Tahoe, CA. I’ve been to it and it was so beautiful I actually experienced something like this when I lost my friend. I thought of this instantly because the event website referenced GOT. I never mess with modern au jonsa I’m so excited, so here it goes.

Snow Globe

Sansa’s heart thumped in her chest as she searched for Jeyne in the passing crowds.

‘Jeyne!!! Where are you?!?😤’ Sansa typed into her phone. She stared at the corner of the messenger hoping to see the three dots appear meaning she was typing her reply.

She walked along nervously, wishing she’d worn more than the white corset and fluffy tutu she’d chosen.

She stared at her phone screen when she suddenly collided into another person. Her phone soared through the air as she slipped on the snow.

She landed with a groan, instantly feeling the cold ice on her butt.

“Are you okay?” The man asked, offering a hand to her.

“Yes I’m- oh my phone!” She said as she took his hand and jumped to her feet.

She looked around, wishing she’d seen where it landed.

“I found it!” He told her, rushing to place it in her hand, “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have stopped so abruptly.”

She examined it, glad that she’d chosen a waterproof phone as it was dripping in wetness.

Sansa felt her cheeks flush when she realized just how handsome he was, dressed in all black, his dark curls framing his face. She looked into his grey eyes, “There’s nothing to forgive. I should’ve been watching where I was going.” She heard herself say.

His worried grimace melted into a warm smile, “I suppose we should both be more careful.”

Sansa laughed just as she felt her phone vibrate in her hand. She looked down at it, reading Jeyne’s response.

He cleared his throat, “Well, it was nice bumping into you- I never caught your name...” he trailed off.

“Sansa- my name is Sansa Stark.“

“I’m Jon Snow.”

“I was just texting my friend Jeyne. Apparently she’s at the main stage.”

“Come on Snow!” Someone shouted at him from a small group that stood close behind him, “It’s almost time for the countdown!”

Jon glanced at them over his shoulder before turning back to Sansa, “It just so happens, we are on our way there now. Care to join us?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all!” He said merrily, placing his hand around her arm, “You���re freezing! Would you like to borrow my coat?”

She opened her mouth to respectfully decline, but he‘d already taken it off and wrapped her in his woolen coat. She inhaled his cologne, in love with the scent.

“Thank you.” She said under her lashes.

They walked to the main stage where the music had stopped, it was time for the count down.

3, 2, 1...

“Happy New Year, Sansa Stark.” Jon whispered into her ear.

Sansa turned to find him looking down at her lips. Without thinking she pressed her lips to his. His entire body tensed at first, but soon his hands were pulling her in. He slipped his tongue into her mouth as fireworks boomed in the sky, falling like snowflakes from up above.

“Happy New Year, Jon Snow.” She breathed against his parted mouth.

[acourtofhopeanddreams]

Soulmates

Fandom: Game of Thrones // A Song of Ice and Fire Characters: Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, minor Robb Stark and minor Eddard "Ned" Stark OTP: Jon/Sansa BROTP: Very minor Jon & Robb Setting: Soulmate AU & Canon Divergence AU Atmosphere: Slightly unsettling, but with a happy end Written for: @jonsa-week - DAY 1 - SOULMATES Words: 2018 Links: AO3 // WATTPAD

The halls of Winterfell were extraordinary crowded. Maids were decorating the main hall with garlands made of different kinds of flowers. Servants were running from the kitchen with full plates only to return a few second laters to get another one. Young men were carrying wooden tables and benches so all the invited visitors tonight would have a seat.

At midnight sharp the magical necklace lady Sansa was wearing would reveal her soulmate, the man who will make her happy, the man who will get her hand.

And everyone in Winterfell, everyone in the North, wanted to know who the eldest Stark daughter would wed.

Especially since she was the first one of the Stark family who’s countdown had reached the zero.

At least, that’s what everyone thought.

Jon curled his hand around his necklace. He preferred to keep it hidden in the pocket of his pants or under his pillow, but now it was dangling against his chest, covered by his shirt. He had no illusions.

Even if the Starks had known that he would get to see the image of his soulmate today too, it wouldn’t have changed anything. They wouldn’t have thrown a bigger party. They wouldn’t have promoted him to the main table. They wouldn’t have treated him any better.

He made his way through the hallway and he nodded every time he passed someone he vaguely knew. He tried to pretend that he was as excited about the festivities as the others. He tried to act like he was helping out where he could. He tried to act like Sansa’s special day wasn’t his special day too. Especially because he knew that the chance that the girl who was stuck with him would really marry him was rather small anyway.

No one wanted to marry a bastard. No one wanted to marry a man with nothing to inherit and no name to pass on. No one wanted to marry the walking proof of a sin.

“Jon?” Robb turned one of the corners. “It’s your turn to get pretty for tonight.” He touched his bare chin and let his hand go through his curls. “Martha is in an awful mood, so I wouldn’t keep her waiting too long, unless you want to end up with a wounded cheek or neck.” He grinned and a little reluctantly Jon followed him.

He didn’t understand why he had to get pretty in the first place. He would be sitting at a table at the very back. No one would notice or see him. No matter how pretty they’d make him, no one would care. But he sat down in the chair and he closed his eyes while Martha took care of his beard and hair.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to take your shirt off, sir. We don’t want it to get dirty.” The girl bent her head and avoided his glance and with one smooth movement Jon pulled the shirt over his back. “Thank you, sir.” The girl continued, but the comfortable silence was interrupted when Robb cleared his throat.

“Why didn’t you tell us anything?”

Jon’s eyes flashed open. The necklace, resting on his chest, was burning his skin and he widened his eyes when he realized that Robb must have noticed the big zero in the centre of the silver coin. “It doesn’t make a difference.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“It does!” Robb grabbed a chair and sat down next to one of his best friends. “Jon! You’re going to meet your soulmate tonight! I’m sure that if father knew about it, he would have arranged something for you too.”

“An extra piece of meat? A fuller glass of wine?” Jon crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m fine, Robb. This is Sansa’s night. The last thing I want is steal some of her attention.”

Robb kept silent for a moment. “Fine, but you have to let me see her picture once it gets revealed, do you promise me?”

Jon nodded, although he didn’t answer out loud.

By tonight, when everyone would be excited about Sansa’s soulmate, Robb had probably forgotten about this moment already.

And Jon wouldn’t blame him for it.

How could Jon blame him for it? How could Jon blame anyone for being distracted by Sansa’s beauty? How could Jon blame them for staring at her if he was staring at her himself ever since she had entered the main hall?

She was wearing a dark green dress, covered in complicated golden patterns. Her skirt touched the ground and she was forced to take small steps to prevent herself from standing on it. Yet, she was greeting everyone with a smile on her lips and a glimmering in her eyes, which was maybe nothing but the reflection of the light of the thousand burning candles.

Jon and Sansa had never talked much. Jon had spent most of his time with Arya. Sansa had spent most of her time preparing for this moment, for this day, for the day she’d no longer be Sansa Stark of Winterfell, but the future bride of who knew whom. This had to be the most beautiful day of her life, which was probably why she looked even more beautiful than usually.

Jon had promised himself that somewhen tonight he would deliver that compliment to her personally, but even after his third glass of wine he had still not found the courage to stand up and go to her.

“Can I fill your glass with champagne, sir?” One of the servants stood still next to the wooden table. “In five minutes it will be midnight and Lord Stark wants everyone to have a full glass by then.”

Absentmindedly Jon lifted his glass up and allowed the girl to fill it.

In five minutes the number on his necklace would disappear. In five minutes the picture of his soulmate would appear.

He watched how Lord Stark walked towards his eldest daughter and grabbed her hand. With a proud smile he lead her towards the wooden stage in the middle of the room and Sansa climbed it while she took her necklace off and placed it in the palm of her hand.

A part of Jon wanted to do the same. He wanted to stare at the necklace for the upcoming five minutes. He wanted to see the number disappear. He wanted to see the picture appear. But he didn’t do so. He didn’t want to distract anyone. He also didn’t want to distract himself.

Sansa shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Her lips were forming a straight line and her glance was glued to the necklace she was holding.

The voices around them softened until they were not even whispering anymore. Some people were holding the arms of their husbands or wives, clearly remembering the day they had gotten to know each other. Others were staring at their own necklaces, probably dreaming of the day it would reach the zero too.

“One more minute Sansa…” Ned Stark spoke softly, but his voice still echoed through the entire room.

Jon’s necklace seemed to become heavier and heavier with each second that passed.

“Half a minute.” Ned placed his hands on his daughter’s shoulders and Sansa took one last deep breath, just like everyone else in the room.

Everyone who listened closely could hear the mice walking around to find the small bits of food that had fallen on the floor, but no one listened closely. Everyone was staring at Sansa, at the necklace she was holding, at her father, looking over her shoulder while pearls of sweat covered his forehead.

“Ten seconds.” Ned Stark tightened his grip and Jon stood up from his seat to have a better view. “Five seconds.” Ned squeezed his daughter’s shoulders once more and Jon straightened his back and lifted his chin.

“What?” Sansa’s eyes widened and she dropped her jaw. “Dad?” She looked over her shoulder, but Ned’s face was drained of all color and paler than it had ever been before. “How is this possible?” She pressed the necklace to her chest in an attempt to hide the image from all the curious glances.

“It’s a long story…” Ned swallowed. He placed a hand in his neck and he started to walk back and forth. “But…” He hesitated for a moment. “I can assure you that you can marry him if you want to.” He locked his glance with his daughter’s. “It’s your choice.”

Sansa tightened her grip on her necklace and then her eyes wandered over the crowd. Sometimes she nodded, she curled her lips up into a slight smile when she caught Robb’s glance for a second, but eventually she let her eyes rest on Jon.

Jon felt his heart racing in his chest.

The longer Sansa stared at him, the more heads in the crowd turned around to see what she was looking at.

He felt his cheeks heating up and he frowned his forehead. And only then he remembered that he had not looked at his own necklace yet. His hands were shaking while he reached for it and he widened his eyes when he saw the image on the spot where the number used to be.

Her fiery red hair. The freckles on her cheeks.

He knew them all too well.

Sansa. Sansa was his soulmate.

And he was hers. He looked up at her, back at the image on the necklace and back at her. “I’m so sorry…” He didn’t know why those were the first words he managed to say. “I’m so so sorry.” He bent his head and as quickly as he could he put the necklace away.

The Starks had thrown an entire party. The main hall was filled with friends, with strangers, with those who loved the Starks and those who hated them.

Jon had no idea what this meant for their reputation, but he was afraid it wouldn’t do much good.

“You’re not my son.” Ned Stark stepped forward and Jon’s muscles tensed. “It’s a long story, a way too long and way too complicated story to tell today, but you’re not my son.” He turned his head to Sansa again. “Jon is not your brother.”

Sansa nodded slowly, as if she needed time to let the words sink in. “He’s not my brother. He’s my soulmate.” She stretched out her hand and quickly Robb rushed towards her to help her to come down. “All my life I’ve been dreaming about meeting him. I’ve wondered what he would be like. I’ve wondered if he would be nice and honest and loyal.” She made her way through the crowd to the wooden table in the very back, where Jon was still standing, unable to move and unable to say anything. “Maybe this was not how I had imagined today, but you are the kind of man I’ve been dreaming of.” She stood still in front of him. “I want to give us a chance, but only if you want to too.”

Jon kept silent for a moment. He was used to a life in the shadows, to not being seen, to not being heard, to stay hidden in the corner. He was not used to so many people staring at him. He was not used to people holding their breath until he would give her an answer. “You really want to marry me?”

Sansa reached for his hands and her fingers rubbed his knuckles. “Yes, I do.” She nodded, but she avoided his glance. “I’ve sworn to marry my soulmate. You are my soulmate. I’ve sworn to marry you.”

“I will not hold you to a promise you regret.” Jon shook his head.

“I don’t regret my promise.”

Jon’s lips were trembling a little while he curled them slowly up into a smile.

“Unless you don’t want to marry me?” Sansa smiled back at him, but Jon quickly pressed his hands to her cheeks.

“I want to marry you.”

Sansa’s smile brightened and then she leaned in to press a kiss on his cheek. “And I’m really happy it’s you.”

[paceyrememberseverything]

The Final Countdown

ONLY 25 MORE DAYS!! 🐺🐺🐺

[jonsa-creatives]

Jonsa Tumblr Events 2017

As there seems to be an influx of lovely new shippers, we thought it might be useful to let you guys know about the great events taking place in the fandom.....

Jonsa Countdown - Hosted by @jonsa-countdown 1-16th July

Jonsa S7 Summer Challenge - Hosted by @jonsa-creatives 10-16th July

^^These two have already happened - you can check out the fantastic contributions to both by visiting @jonsa-countdown and by taking a look at the Summer Challenge’s master list HERE

Jonsa Exchange - Hosted by @jonsaexchange - all year, bi-monthly. These guys have already had an amazing ‘first round’ - you can check out all the entries on their July master list HERE

JonxSansa Remix - Hosted by @jonxsansafanfiction - 1-7th September *tbc

Jonsa Week - Hosted by @jonsa-week - 22-28th October

….if you know of any others that we have missed out - please do give us a heads-up!

[fedonciadale]

At the weirwood tree

Inspired by the trailer and Sansa’s walk away from the weirwood tree. Wirtten for @jonsa-countdown ! Day 8 - Free choice, also on AO3.

Jon found his sister at the weirwood. Sansa had seemed collected and cool at the meeting. Like Lord Manderly she had argued against his leaving for Dragonstone, but while the portly lord had become rather heated, Sansa had reined herself in. The only sign of agitation Jon had seen had been the blood in her cheeks. After the meeting Davos had talked with him about preparations and by the time he had finished, Jon had been desperate to look for Sansa. He knew she was angry with him.

Although, how I can make her understand when I can’t tell her the truth? Still he doggedly looked for her. Her red hair stood out against the background of the weirwood. I should have known to look in the godswood.

When he reached Sansa, she stood at the tree and leaned against it, her forehead touching a branch with snow, as if she wanted to cool it. She opened her eyes, when he arrived, and he thought he saw her lashes glistening. If she had been crying or if some of the occasional snowflakes had touched her, he could not say. The familiar longing to just take her in his arms, and maybe kiss her lashes raised its head and Jon stamped rigorously on the snake in his heart.

“You promised to protect me,” Sansa said. “How will you protect me, when you are not here?”

Her voice still held a hint of anger, but it was tinged with more sadness than Jon thought he could bear.

“I will come back.”, he said. I protect you from myself. I can’t trust myself when you are so close to me.

“Father wanted to return to Winterfell, he never came back. My mother wrote Bran that she would return, I found her letters in the library. Robb wanted to return. It feels like I am the only Stark that ever came back from the South.”

Jon’s heart ached.

“I’m not a Stark,” he said, trying to make a joke of it.

Sansa’s eyes flashed with anger.

“How many times do I have to tell you? You are to me,” she said.

“Still, in the eyes of the world I am the bastard King Snow. It might help to avoid the ill luck.” Jon tried again to give their conversation a lighter note.

Sansa sighed and rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything.

“I want our bannermen to protect you and Winterfell. None of them wants to venture south and you know I can’t send Davos. We can’t risk this Dragon Queen to be offended because of his low birth. We know nothing about her,” Jon tried to reason with her.

“Don’t repeat your tedious arguments, Jon,” Sansa said. “I don’t care about the Dragon Queen. Good Queen Alysanne was the only Targaryen who did anything for the North, and that was centuries ago. This queen’s father killed our grandfather and uncle. Her brother raped our aunt Lyanna. Nothing good can come of it.”

“We’ve never needed dragonglass or dragons before.” Jon said.

“I’ve already conceded that point to you.” Sansa quipped and Jon thought he could see the shadow of a smile on her lips. “I still think, you should send someone else.”

“I could always send our trusted servant and ally, Lord Baelish Littlefinger,” Jon quipped. They both laughed at that until their laughter was killed by sudden silence.

Jon took Sansa’s hands in his, although he knew how dangerous that could be. His heart took up speed and he heard the blood rushing in his ears and he felt alive like he never did when Sansa was not near.

“Believe me, Sansa. I want to protect you and believe me, that I’m convinced that I can protect you and Winterfell best, when I leave. Many of the things you said are true and I will be very careful.” That was as close as he dared to touch the truth. Would she be appalled if I told her that she needs protection from her half-brother who lusts after her. He thought of that moment in the crypts when his temper had gotten the better of him. He still wanted to break Littlefinger’s neck. I can hardly blame him for wanting Sansa, so do I.

“I believe that you want to protect me, Jon, but I’m not entirely sure, you can be good at it, if you’re not here,” Sansa said. Her eyes were locked searchingly at his and Jon tried his best not to look away, even though he was afraid Sansa would look at the bottom of his soul and see his shame.

“And,” she paused for a heartbeat and then carried on obviously with reluctance. “I think, that you hold something back. I feel, that there is something you do not tell me.” Her voice sounded strangely strained and her eyes glittered. “Is that so? Is there something else? Is there something you don’t tell me?”

Jon’s was reminded of the time he had taken a hard fall from his horse and the sheer ability to breathe had him left for a seemingly everlasting moment. What to tell her?

“You have become very observant.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Sansa said.

Jon took a deep breath, he felt like he might lose his footing on this thin ice.

“It’s not safe, if we are together. You know or rather we suspect, that Littlefinger is after me. If I leave he might think, that he can turn you against me. And for that, he will strengthen your position in any way he can. If I stay, he will undermine me and that only harms us. This way, we will use his own agenda to work for us. I know, you will not turn against me, but Littlefinger does not.”

Jon felt a surge of pride. That sounded as if he had thought about a bold political move, instead of desperately trying to avoid his sister and her haunting beauty.

Sans looked at him, suspicion in her eyes, if that had indeed been his real reasoning.

“You could have told me that before the council,” she said.

“I thought, Littlefinger would not see through this, if you argued genuinely against my leaving,” Jon said.

Sansa scoffed. “You should know, that I could have played along easily.”

“Of course,” he said. “But I did not know, if I could play along, if I had known that you were not genuinely angry. Littlefinger had to see me distressed at your arguing.”

Sansa laughed and Jon could see that she had bought his reasons. “You seem to know yourself inside out. Littlefinger did indeed insinuate that you are not good at putting down people who argue against you.”

“It’s better to hear everyone out, I can’t think of everything. That’s what councils are for.”

Sansa nodded. “I told him so as well. Father always listened what people had to say.”

Jon drew a breath.

“This will work only when Littlefinger thinks, that he has a chance to lure you to his side. When I leave tomorrow, you must act aloof, as if you barely repress your anger. For now, I came to say goodbye.” He knew, that he was tempting his own resolution, but he was not strong enough to leave Sansa without being sure, she was not cross.

“O Jon,” Sansa sighed, and suddenly she moved into his arms. “You’ll go with all my good wishes and blessings.” This time, Jon was sure, that her eyes were glistening with tears.

It was so sweet to hold her in his arms, that he wanted this moment to last forever. He tried to relish in the feeling of Sansa being near, of her smell in his nose, of the sound of her breathing in his ear. All too soon, she left his arms and looked earnestly at his face.

She smiled bravely and gave him a kiss on the cheek that made him feel as if a flame had touched him.

“I still don’t like it. But I understand that reasoning. Leave Littlefinger to me. I’ll handle him and when you come back with your alliance we will find a way to endure.”

She raised a finger. “And don’t you dare to stay in the South!”

Jon’s heart was about to break when she turned to leave. She walked with confident strides and Jon looked after her, pressing his lips together to keep himself from calling her name, touching the branch of the tree, where her forehead had been, pressing it to root him, so that he would not run after her.

For a moment, he thought, that she was about to turn her head, and suddenly a coppery taste was in his mouth and he realised that he had bitten his tongue in his effort to keep silent.

Ghost found him later when it had grown almost dark, still standing at the tree, battling with himself. Jon bent down to pet his direwolf and scratched his ears. For a moment, he allowed himself to bury his face in Ghost’s fur.

“I’ll have to leave you here boy. A boat is no place for a direwolf. Look after her for me, will you?”, he said. “Protect her!”

Ghost licked his hand and pressed shortly to his side, then he trod away, trailing where Sansa had left and Jon walked slowly after him, his heart heavy.