#jonsa drabblefest

[amymel86]

Jonsa Drabblefest, Day 7, free Choice (late entry) @jonsadrabbles​

*So, as I’ve been posting 2 drabbles per day of this event, I thought it would bve nice to top it off with 2 for the free choice day too. You may have seen my post of this manip on @jonsa-creatives​ before but I thought it begged for an accompanying drabble too!*

WWII US Soldier!Jon Snow and English Civilian!Sansa Stark

Jon stroked the photograph with the pad of this thumb. A sepia scene of when he was last with her. The war was done, he was a lucky son of a bitch to get out of Europe with his life. Many of his friends hadn't. The tones didn't do her justice; the copper of her hair, the cornflower blue of her eyes, the explosion of lightness he felt in his chest whenever he was with her. He can remember it like it was just yesterday; the way he'd reached British shores again and Sansa Stark had helped him forget all the mud and the blood and the shouts and gunfire. He still thinks of her today, months on. Uses the memory of her as a kind of coping when the phantom sounds of a Luftwaffe mix with Spitfire mix with his rifle mix with the dying screams of Pyp mix with- Breathe. He's on American soil. He's back on his mother's farm. And she needs him to be a man, not a blubbering, shaking mess. Jon looks over the photograph again. Keeps it safe in his bedside drawer. Can still hear the brass band that played that night, the cheers, the throaty way she laughed when he kissed just below her ear, how her skin beneath her dress felt softer than silk. She has no idea - no idea as she goes about her days back in her English village that she's the only thing keeping him together. If he wrote... if he asked... would she come to him? Would life with him be enough? That's an awful big ask to pen in a letter. Jon stuffed his cherished photograph hastily under his pillow when his mother, in her morning flurry hustled into the room. She offers him a tentative smile and then something even better. "Telegram for you, Jon," she said, handing him the paper. "Came this morning." Jon looks at the printed words, not bothering to conceal the tremor in his hand. Mr J Snow, I miss you dearly. Miss S Stark It was her. "Ma?" he said, wetting his lips, "you can spare me on the farm this morning to go to the telegraph office, right?" With a kind hand cupping his face as he looked up at her, his mother smiled knowingly. "And I suppose you'll be fixin' to borrow some money for this telegram you wanna send?" "She's worth it, ma." "She better be," Lyanna chuckled."They charge by the word, you know. Make it brief." Jon swallowed. His stomach felt like he was out on the ocean. "Is 'come be my wife' short enough for you?"

[esther-dot]

legends

for @jonsadrabbles‘s drabblesfest -- prompt: legends

"You know what they'll say in the songs?"

"What?" They had stopped at a stream to allow the horses to drink, and to Jon’s slight surprise, Sansa showed no hesitation in dismounting, cupping her hands, and drinking too. He forgot the water skin in his hands he’d intended to fill as she pushed aside a leaf drifting on the surface of the water, and began to wash her face, as if she’d grown up cleaning herself in a frigid stream rather than warm, scented waters fetched by a servant. Ice floated nearby where at home she would have only had to worry about rose petals disturbing her morning ritual.

She wiped at her face with a shrug of her shoulder, another carefree gesture he struggled to reconcile with the Sansa he knew. “They’ll say I seduced you into it. Into all of it.”

“Didn’t you?” He teased, expecting a blush, but her cheeks were too pink from the cold water to tell. He was surprised at her bright smile, “Did I?”

(read the rest below or on AO3)

He shook his head, ruefully chuckled. “I didn’t know you cared—how much you cared—until I left you on the dock in King’s Landing. I thought it was just me.”

“They’ll say I learned from Cersei, that your Targaryen blood got the better of you, and you lost your kingdom and your queen because of a Stark wh—”

“Don’t say it.” He filled the second water skin. “I don’t care what the songs or legends are. I did what was right.”

“And they punished you for it.”

“I was killed for doing what was right before, exile isn’t that bad.” His eyes crinkled, and again, she wondered that he could laugh at it all. She seethed with rage.

“What they did to you was unpardonable. I thought I’d never forgive the Lords for capitulating to the Unsullied.”

“I don’t think on it.”

“It should have been yours. All of it.”

“I sought nothing in the South, I desired no Northern crown. There was only one thing in the whole of Westeros that I wanted.”

She did blush then. “Pretty words won’t earn you kisses from me when your face is that dirty.”

Jon shrugged, “I think I could get one.”

“You most certainly will n—”

But he lunged, and she hardly managed to shriek before he caught her around the waist, and Sansa proved that a grimy face mattered very little to her.

Her nose was cold and red, but it made Jon smile, and with his fingers buried in her thick braid, he found no desire to revive his anger, “Songs are meant to be sung, legends are good for the telling, but life is meant to be lived. They can say what they will about all of it. I have what I want.”

[growstheoak]

Stolen

Written for Jonsa drabblefest, day 2.

He has not come as a black brother. No lord commander, no prince, nor even a knight. No, Jon has come as himself, a Snow, a bastard raised by Starks, to steal away his sister. 

She is sad for him that he has found only Alayne Stone, but takes his hand anyway when he offers. Her father will be furious, but she is tired of the sickness here, Robin’s sickness, the sickness between her and Petyr. She wants to breathe free again.

You will breathe the icy air of the North, he promises. You will remember.

He calls her Sansa.

[graceverse]

Always and Forever (free day)

for @jonsadrabbles

a flicker in darkness, a spark in the universe

Winter arrives. It sparks fear, uncertainty. But for the North it is a promise made and kept. A thousand years ago and a thousand years into the future, winter will come and with it, the lessons of endurance, courage, hope and the wait for spring, summer, autumn. A new year to come, another cycle, another promise fulfilled.

***

Jon Stark’s hair has streaks of grey. It came on suddenly. Though he feels it could have started turning when the hand of their fifth and youngest daughter had been asked for marriage.

It takes him by surprise when he glanced at his reflection in a looking glass. He went thundering around Winterfell, looking for the Queen. He found her holding an audience at Wolf Hall. He shifted from foot to foot, impatient but mindful of her responsibilities. She likes to finish all the day’s tasks before midday.

His wife is good at this. Efficient. A Queen born from experience.

Her work makes her glow. A light inside of her shining through as she speaks to her people, the Lords and Ladies representing the houses pledged and protected under the Stark banner. Jon loves nothing more than to watch her at the end of the day, head bent, lips moving slowly as she made her List. She crosses and adds things before going to bed, so that when she wakes up, everything is organized. All she’d need to do was tackle it with her usual capable self.

It is an aphrodisiac.  

By the time she dismisses everyone Jon could not help but blurt out: “I have grey hair!”

Sansa laughs at him, reaching a hand out so that she could twist her fingers at the cause of his distress. “I know Jon.”

“You didn’t tell me!” He wasn’t particularly vain about his looks. He’d not been bothered by the many scars running across his face. It made him look menacing. Sometimes, menacing had its benefits. But his hair – Sansa loves his hair! She is always touching it: gently twirling around her fingers, giving it a sharp yank that never fails to make his heart explode in pleasure-pain. It was the one Stark quality he had – something he had gotten from his mother, something that tied him to Eddard Stark. And now it is going grey!

Sansa did not seem at all bothered. “It is a good sign, husband.”

Jon is startled to see the brightness in her eyes. The familiar shine of it, he knows them to be tears of joy, of relief and he realizes that she is right. His grey hair is a mark, a moment to cherish. It means that they have grown old together. It is a promise of more years ahead of them, a life shared always and forever.  

“And,” She tugs him closer; her mouth hovering so very near his ear, “it looks good on you.”

“Does it?” Jon asks, bending down to greedily claim her lips.

[sailorshadzter]

jonsa drabblefest, day 2, stolen.

this got slightly longer than 500 words, but hey, what ya gonna do lol

i’ve been meaning to write something like this for a while now, so dont be all that surprised if at some point i do some expanding on this! 

"The Free Folk steal their wives, you know."

She's heard this before of course, dozens if not hundreds of times over the years. Especially during that time where Jon and his band of wildlings helped to reclaim Winterfell in the name of House Stark. Back then, before an act of peace was solidified between the Free Folk and the North, people had whispered behind their hands about the "savages" and even Jon was considered a traitor among the Night's Watch for siding with Tormund and the others. He'd lost his life for it, in truth. But those days were gone, for the people of the North saw the loyalty of the wildlings to Jon and to the North. They fought (and won) for Winterfell twice now, had lost good men all for a House not a single one of them belonged to.

And so, upon her coronation, Sansa had done what no king nor queen had done before: she made peace. Since that day, once every moon the Free Folk send a liaison to discuss things- crime, the rebuilding of the wall, anything- and every single time they come, she hopes it will be Jon.

It never is.

@jonsadrabbles

It's been a long, hard year without him at her side and though she supposes she has a right to be angry with him, she isn't angry. She's lonely. It isn't just Jon that she does without- it's Arya, it's Bran, the last remaining members of her family aren't there at her side, either. So while she is happy to be home, happy to be in her place as Queen in the North, at night when that crown comes off and she's just Sansa Stark again... She's lonely.

"Your grace?"

She stiffens, cheeks flaming red as she realizes she's lapsed into a silence stretching far too long. "I'm sorry, Tormumd, what did you say?" She apologizes with a flash of a smile, though even the man that sits across from her sees it never quite reaches her blue eyes. It's the time of one of those visits with the Free Folk and as usual, it is Tormund that had come riding through the castle gates.

The orange haired man grins, shaking his head. "I said, wildlings steal their wives, your grace, and I don't see how it'd be any different to a steal a husband." He's still grinning that wild, lopsided grin, one that never fails to put her at ease. "Little crow is hard headed but if he sees you..." Tormund sobers, leaning forward slightly, blue eyes meeting blue. "If he sees you, he'll have to give up." In truth, Jon himself had told him that the only reason he sought isolation from Winterfell and from Sansa was because he knew himself to be weak. I don't deserve to stand beside her, not after what I've done, Jon had said once, some months ago. But if I go to her... How could I ever leave her? And so rather, he's stayed away all this time, hoping to someday hear that Sansa has found happiness in someone that wasn't him.

Suddenly, the queen that sits before him is smiling, sitting up a little straighter in her chair as his words take root in her mind. "Take me to him, won't you?" Sansa asks and at once Tormund leaps to his feet, grinning as he nods.

[ x x x ]

When they marry less than a year later, the rumors had already begun.

Rumors of the red wolf that slipped into the wildling camp unnoticed, stealing away from his tent the white wolf that once roamed the halls of Winterfell. Rumors of a wolf queen that snapped her jaws and took back what surely always was hers; the heart of a man that had risked everything to keep her safe.

[fedonciadale]

A gaze across the field - part 2

So, here is the second drabble, Saturday, free choice, one day late for the drabble even of @jonsadrabbles... Also on AO3.

Littlefinger had brought the knights of the Vale. His smile as Sansa acknowledged the army was almost too much for her.

She forced herself to smile in return and nod her head graciously. “I appreciate your effort to show me your loyalty, Lord Baelish.”

He bowed. “I hope that you will find me worthy of a reward.”

“That depends entirely on the outcome of the battle, which is in full swing, if I understood correctly.”

“That certainly will spur my fervour.” He rode closer to her.

“What would you prefer?” His voice was low. Nobody but her was supposed to hear, Sansa was sure. “Certainly, you want your half-brother to survive?”

He lifted his eyebrows as if to insinuate the exact opposite.

Her heart beat fast in her chest, but she forced herself to remember how angry she had been at Jon, letting that anger show on her face.

“He might as well survive. He has his uses, and I doubt he’ll ever reject my advice again, if I pull him out of this.” She had learned so well to hide behind truths.

Littlefinger laughed, hearing what he wanted to hear. “Let’s safe your brother then, the future commander of a queen.”

A queen, he would like to marry, his eyes told her. She bent over and took his hand.

“If you earn my trust in this, Lord Baelish, you might be trusted with even more important things.” She let that sentence hang between them, a promise that should make Littlefinger give his best.

She rode with the knights, their banners streaming behind them, a magnificent look, that was lost on her. She would have prayed, if she had not lost her belief.

When they had earned the high ground above the battle field, she could see that the Boltons had laid a tight ring around the remaining Stark army, a ring that was quickly dissolved when the knights charged. Her eyes searched for the Stark banner that might indicate where Jon was, but all the banners were down.

He cannot be dead. He must not be dead!

Just in the middle of the crowd she thought she saw a man who fought to stood upright. He turned to face her, and she could only see small white spots on a face that was stained with mud. Her heart fluttered and she felt as if she were struck by lightning. It was too far away, she could not be sure it was Jon and yet, she felt his eyes on her, a pull that was inexplicable. A tight band that tightened between them. They had fought their way from despair and night to daylight and relief. They were both alive.

Someone had raised one of the Stark banners that had been trodden down on the field. And though the ice-white field was muddied, the wind blew into the cloth and the direwolf sprang to life, as if he were ready to run, run in the morning breeze.

[schnoogles]

@jonsadrabbles Day 1 Campfire/Linger

“Walking like a one man army Fighting with the shadows in your head Living out the same old moment Knowing you'd be better off instead, If you could only”

With a deep breath, Jon stared at himself for just a moment longer in the looking glass. Black fur cloak, shaggy hair, the tired longing expression.“The world will always need a home for bastards and broken men.” It’s as if the last several years hadn’t changed him at all. But it did, very much so. No longer a bastard, but a broken man.

“Hurry up, Snow. Your ship awaits.” Passing the nameless guard, Jon heads out towards the docks, two crows following behind. Passes by the smallfolk, the Dothraki, the Unsullied, makes uncomfortable eye contact with Grey Worm. And then he sees them. Sees her.

He thought saying goodbye to the Starks the first time was the hardest thing he had to do. Saying goodbye to them a second was harder. Saying goodbye to her was harder. She asks for his forgiveness. Silly girl, don’t you know? I should be asking you for yours.

“The North is free thanks to you. Ned Stark’s daughter will speak for them.” There’s so much more he wants to say. So much more he needs her to hear. But he can’t find the words, so he pours all of his thoughts, all of his emotions, into her embrace. He holds on to her tightly, swaying for just a moment, memorising her smell, her softness.

Their goodbyes are sweet and short. Too short for his liking. He knows they’ll be safe though. Happy. Bran is a King and Arya will have her own adventures now. They’ll be fine. They’ll thrive. And Sansa. Sansa will flourish. The first reigning Queen in the North. His heart may be aching with bittersweetness, but it also swells with pride, joy, love. With one last lingering glance at Sansa, Jon finally forces himself to turn away. Ten days, ten weeks, or ten years, he knows in his soul he’ll see her again one day. 

[part-timewonders]

Fandoms: Game of Thrones (TV) Rating: T Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark Additional Tags: Modern AU, New Year’s Eve, Fluff, Romance Summary: Maybe they could just stay out here forever, Sansa thinks. It’s snowing, but she’s not cold anymore, not in Jon’s arms like this

My final entry for @jonsadrabbles Fest! No prompt today!

I’m also on Twitter if anyone wants to come say hi.

Also tagging the folks at @jonsa-creatives!

[jonsaslove]

@jonsadrabbles 

Day 1: campfire/linger

[jonsadrabbles]

jonsa drabblefest 2020 masterlist!

Thank you to everyone who wrote, read, and shared our drabbles! This event was a huge success, and all in all we had over 100 submissions (!!!) 

Due to the amount of fics that were written, we may have missed a few in this masterlist. If that is the case, please message us and let us know!

Below the cut are the submissions for this event that were posted here on tumblr! Enjoy!

DAY ONE - LINGER | CAMPFIRE

linger - by @amymel86

linger - by @azulaahai

(not) a matter of decorum - by @zarahjoyce

unspoken - by @jonsaslove

a necessary evil - by @saensas

summer storms - by @pax-2735

rosa suburbia - by @zoyaalinas

carpe diem - by @sweetcalarinanis

sizzle - by @sansaswolfbits

linger - by @ladystarks

The tresspasser - by @sunbeamsandmoonrays

this is a state of grace - by @part-timewonders

tales by the fire - by @miazeklos

linger | campfire - by @periwinkle39

in brevity - by @orangeflavoryawp

linger - by @sailorshadzter

linger - by @wildflower-daydreamer

The Lady Bird and the Winged Wolf - by @jade-masquerade

campfire | linger - by @annawoodhull

linger - by @schnoogles

as if he’d never left - by @that-plo-koon

campfire - by @amymel86

campfire - by @sailorshadzter

campfire - by @madgrad2011

piece of cake - by @vivilove-jonsa

did I dream it all? - by @captainbee89

happy friends - by @acourtofhopeanddreams

confession campfire - by @sweetaprilbutterfly

flames - by @esther-dot

campfire - by @graceverse​

campfire - by @growstheoak​​

DAY TWO - STOLEN | TRUE KNIGHTS

ache - by @jonsaslove

a thief in the night - by @sweetcalarinanis

stolen - by @graceverse

perjury - by @zoyaalinas

stolen - by @esther-dot

steal me now (i won't resist) - by @ladystarks

stolen - by @amymel86

(not) a matter of choice - by @zarahjoyce

May I? - by @sunbeamsandmoonrays

stolen - by @madgrad2011

Robb(ed) - by @pax-2735

all this time (how could you not know) - by @jolieunfiltrd​

thief - by @saensas​

a true knight, to steal me, to sweep me off my feet - by @sansaswolfbits​

hold the thief - by @acourtofhopeanddreams​

under the january light - by @sonderlust45​

by any other name - by @miazeklos​

stolen - by @sailorshadzter​

pride and prejudice AU - by @annawoodhull

stolen | true knights - by @periwinkle39

stolen kiss - by @ladeewrites

the lady bird and the winged wolf (stolen) - by @jade-masquerade

there aren’t any heroes - by @minitafan

true knights - by @amymel86

her true knight - by @vivilove-jonsa

Not Mine (Yet) - by @sunbeamsandmoonrays

true knight - by @schnoogles

true knight - by @sweetaprilbutterfly​

stolen - by @growstheoak​​

DAY THREE - LEGENDS | BEYOND THE WALL

under the January light - by @sonderlust45

memory - by @jonsaslove

legends - by @amymel86

legends - by @schnoogles

legends - by @esther-dot

wild gold - by @zoyaalinas

(Not) A Matter of Fear - by @zarahjoyce

Robb Snow - by @vivilove-jonsa

Just Jon - by @sunbeamsandmoonrays

legends - by @madgrad2011

the queen of winter and her cursed lover - by @sansaswolfbits

nessie - by @acourtofhopeanddreams

legends | beyond the wall - by @ladystarks

crowned - by @saensas

breath of life - by @miazeklos

legends and beyond the wall - by @jade-masquerade

outlander AU - by @annawoodhull

beyond the wall - by @graceverse

beyond the wall - by @amymel86

dum spiro spero - by @sweetcalarinanis

wolves - by @asongofsnow​

summer storms (beyond the wall) - by @pax-2735

beyond the wall - by @sailorshadzter​

legends - by @growstheoak​​

DAY FOUR - HIDDEN | TRUE

promise - by @jonsaslove

hidden truths - by @asongofsnow

a true knight - by @sweetcalarinanis

true - by @amymel86

true - by @esther-dot

frostfires - by @zoyaalinas

(Not) A Matter of Desparation - by @zarahjoyce

coronation - by @sunbeamsandmoonrays

hidden | true - by @phosphorescent-naidheachd

hogwarts AU - by @annawoodhull

hidden true feelings - by @acourtofhopeanddreams

when the wolves come home - by @miazeklos

hidden and true - by @jade-masquerade

hidden // true - by @growstheoak

true - by @sailorshadzter

silver - by @minitafan

promise - by @jonsaslove

hidden - by @graceverse

hidden - by @amymel86

Jon Knows - by @paperskiess

how far this thing can go - by @part-timewonders

the rest is confetti - by @saensas

in plain sight - by @pax-2735

baby you know it’s obvious - by @jolieunfiltrd

hide away - by @sunbeamsandmoonrays

what stays well hidden - by @periwinkle39

hidden - by @ladystarks

hidden - by @madgrad2011

hidden daggers, perfectly placed - by @standbehindhousestark

hidden - by @schnoogles

hidden//true - by @growstheoak

DAY FIVE - WINTERFELL | THE WALL

renew - by @jonsaslove

home - by @asongofsnow

cold and cracked - by @israfel00

winterfell - by @schnoogles

is a house really a home if all your loved ones are gone? - by @standbehindhousestark

winterfell - by @amymel86

the pleasure of the dance - by @sweetcalarinanis

remember - by @sunbeamsandmoonrays

winterfell - by @graceverse

winterfell - by @growstheoak

winterfell - by @esther-dot

nightmares - by @acourtofhopeanddreams

every chorus was your name - by @jolieunfiltrd

I shall sing you safe on your way (I shall sing you safely home) - by @miazeklos

Winterfell | The Wall - by @sweetaprilbutterfly

frozen AU - by @annawoodhull

winterfell - by @jade-masquerade

winterfell - by @sailorshadzter

the wall - by @amymel86

give me hope in silence - by @zoyaalinas

(not) a matter of timing - by @zarahjoyce

open your eyes - by @pax-2735

the tower - by @sunbeamsandmoonrays

the wall - by @madgrad2011

remedy - by @wildflower-daydreamer

the wall - by @ladystarks

DAY SIX - SPRING | AUTUMN

spring - by @amymel86

tempus vernum - by @sweetcalarinanis

spring - by @esther-dot

flower crowns - by @sunbeamsandmoonrays

summer flings - by @pax-2735

the mummy AU - by @annawoodhull

forget me not - by @acourtofhopeanddreams

new session - by @jonsaslove

shower your affection (let it rain on me) - by @miazeklos

spring - by @schnoogles

spring - by @sweetaprilbutterfly

spring - by @growstheoak

spring - by @madgrad2011

the lady bird and the winged wolf (spring) - by @jade-masquerade

spring - by @sailorshadzter

fall(ing) - by @asongofsnow​

(not) a matter of courage - by @zarahjoyce

autumn - by @graceverse

magnum opus - by @zoyaalinas

autumn - by @amymel86

DAY SEVEN - FREE

old new beginnings - by @miazeklos

sansa stark and the vampire - by @acourtofhopeanddreams

i want your midnights - by @part-timewonders

haunted - by @asongofsnow​

happiness - by @sweetaprilbutterfly

free choice - by @amymel86

a gaze across the field (part 1) - by @fedonciadale

a gaze across the field (part 2) - by @fedonciadale

lyanna lives AU - by @periwinkle39

the lady bird and the winged wolf (free) - by @jade-masquerade

[amymel86]

Sansa’s New Friend

Jonsa Drabblefest, Day 7, Free Day

@jonsadrabbles

Sansa makes her way towards where she thinks their camp is. The... thing... she’d picked up follows. She can feel its ice-cold fingers toying with the end of her braid.

Arya is the first to spot her, shooting up from her seat on a log. “Sansa! We thought you’d-“ she’s stunned, obviously. Sansa had predicted that much. Eyes widen, her sister goes for her trusty belted knife.

Sansa barely has time to yell “wait! It’s ok!” when Robb’s suddenly in front of her, rifle in hand and suddenly she’s staring down the double barrels.

“Get out of the way, Sansa! There’s a wight right behind you!”

“I know!”

That throws her big brother of course for a tick or two. He removes his eye from the sights but doesn’t lower the gun. “You know?”

With arms outstretched, hands trying to calm her siblings, Sansa needn’t do much but wait. The wight behind her does nothing but continue to fiddle with the ends of her hair.

“Wait,” Arya says, brows scrunched in confusion. “Why isn’t it trying to eat you... or us?”

Sansa turned to look at her new companion. His lips were too pale but his face was intact – unlike some of the rotting corpses she’s had the bad luck to meet. His eyes were an unnatural blue and a dagger was still lodged into his chest from his obvious untimely death. “I don’t know. He... there were so many of them and he came out of nowhere. Fought them all off. He saved me and then... followed me here.” The wight was dressed in Night’s Watch service gear. She reached out for his dangling dogtag. “His name is Jon...or... it was Jon. Jon Snow”

Robb is suddenly beside her, waving his hand in front of the wight’s face. “This is so fucking weird! Why isn’t he trying to chomp on you?”

Jon’s blue eyes go slowly from Robb back to Sansa. She can feel his freezing fingers curl gently around the hand that still holds his dogtag. “It’s like he’s... not completely gone. There’s still some of him in there.”

“This is fucking typical,” Arya laughs. “We all have to learn how to defend ourselves and kill during the zombie apocalypse, but Sansa manages to make one of the monsters fall in love with her!”

Robb scoffs and Sansa rolls her eyes, but both their heads whip around when the wight, Jon whispers a breathy, “Sss...Sssanssss.....”

[esther-dot]

true 

for @jonsadrabbles‘s drabblefest -- prompt: true

“Is this where you swore your oath?”

 “Aye.”

The Haunted Forest was filled with a deep stillness, and Sansa sighed over it. “I could almost think the trees breath out the stories of all they have seen, and it’s the knowledge they fill the air with that makes it so heavy.”

She flushed, realizing she had spoken aloud, and Jon smiled, kissing her hand. The red leaves of the weirwoods stretched out above, had covered the ground below, leaving them in a cocoon of red. Sansa clasped Jon’s hand, took his other, and led him into the ring of heart trees.

It wasn’t until she knelt that he realized what she was doing. “Sansa.”

“It could be called poetic to take a wife where you forswore it.”

(read the rest below or on AO3)

“Or blasphemous.” All the same, he knelt as well, his blood pulsing as if in preparation for a fight, his heart stammering many things. It quieted when he took a deep breath, and he calmed when Sansa dropped his hands, placing hers on his cheeks, “I take this man.”

While neither thought they believed anymore, while both had declared they were no longer children, they closed their eyes in unison, each silently asking for the blessings of the old gods. And while life had given them no reason to hope, Jon found himself doing so anyway. “I haven’t a cloak to offer you.”

“You cloaked me years ago, at Castle Black, in an old fur that smelled horrible, but felt more luxurious than anything I’d ever worn. It felt like safety, like home. I cloaked you too you know.”

“Were two cloakings enough, do you think? Or do we need a third?”

He teased her, but Sansa pulled him towards her until they could be no closer, “I rather like to think we were bound from that moment, that it was then that we became each other’s, even if we did not yet know it.”

“We were, and it did not take me long to realize,” without hesitation.

“It may have taken me longer, but you were no less dear for it. You felt real to me in a world full of falseness. You were the truest thing I knew since I left home.”

Jon was startled when she wiped tears from his cheeks; he hadn’t been aware of shedding any. Sansa folded herself into his arms, and whispered words that even the trees could not hear, for they were for Jon, and Jon alone, “This is my third wedding, you are my third husband, but this is the only true wedding I’ve had. You are my true husband, you were all along.”

[growstheoak]

Campfire

Written for Jonsa drabblefest, day 1.

She said the flames showed her his sister.

Show me, he asks a red god he doubts. Show me my sister, he begs the old gods of his father. Bright flames bloom in his vision, but no glimpse of Arya appears. One more disappointment that weighs him down into exhausted sleep and vivid dreams.

He sees snow, but not the deep snow of the North.

He sees stone, but not the walls of Winterfell.

And he sees a girl, but not the girl he sought. Her dark hair swirls as she turns to look at him with familiar blue eyes...

[graceverse]

Day 01: Campfire

For the @jonsadrabbles

They are sitting around a campfire, the first summer night, as promised by Bran, is warm. Warmer than anything he could remember. Winter feels like a dream. A different life. But the half burnt Winterfell, a slumped shadow, a slumbering animal lying against a sky filled with stars is proof enough that winter has come and with it the Night Walkers, the Dragons, the end of the Targaryens.

War has taken lives and homes. The losses have been staggering, but the Starks have always endured and so on the first sign of spring, the wolves returned. Bran from King’s Landing, Arya from her adventures beyond the Narrow Sea and Jon exiled from Beyond the Wall, pardoned by Bran, summoned by the Queen in the North.

The Queen in the North

Jon has not seen her in so long. The tension between them throbs, like a heart suddenly beating back to life. He sits across from her and between them, the fire dances, leaps, flickers. The play of shadow and light does strange things to her face. It softens and blurs her for a moment and then the next, she becomes a sharp outline. She is bird boned, delicate but the shine in her eyes is feral, like a wolf lurking in the shadows, patiently waiting for her prey. A dove and a wolf. A Queen and a cousin.

A flame jumps up. It lights her whole face. She is looking at him, brave and nervous, defiant and shy. Her lips are slightly parted and Jon feels the dryness of his mouth as he flicks his eyes up to meet hers. The red of hair changes and it reminds him of Ygritte.

Jon is no longer young and naïve. He acknowledges this wound that had festered and poisoned him for a while. It had healed but he carried it with him still: Ygirtte's loss.

It is like an arrow wedged inside his heart. The pain of it will never go away, would not be forgotten; but it will fade, like her memory, like everything that they have shared together.

It is already fading.

Jon shakes his head, tries to ignore the way his heart lurches at this revelation. Everything that had happened before he had died and was brought back to life, it all feels muddled somehow. Unreal.  He hates the Red Witch for stealing that from him; the redness of Ygritte's hair, was it like the flames of the fire? Or darker? Like the afternoon sun already dipping down from the horizon?

He cannot truly remember all he knows is that it isn’t like the copper shine of Sansa’s hair. Which he likes very much to wrap around his fist. He wonders if his time Beyond the Wall, without his family, neither Stark nor Targaryen, not a King and not a Brother of the Night’s Watch – just Jon – if it is enough. If he is already forgiven. If it is time to ask her: shall I steal you tonight?

[sailorshadzter]

jonsa drabblefest, day 1. campfire.

It's the soft sound of approaching footsteps that he hears first, followed by the gentle exhale of breath from between rosy lips as she settles down on the ground beside him. Their shoulders just barely brushing and yet he's hyper aware of the heat of her skin beneath wool, unable to help but to wonder what it must feel like skin to skin. "Aren't you cold?" He asks, to which she chuckles, drawing her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she shakes her head. Somewhere in the distance, they hear soldiers shouting, drunk and stumbling around their own campfires as they spend what perhaps might be their final night alive. It's a reminder that it is not just Jon that fights for her, that fights for Winterfell.

@jonsadrabbles

"Not anymore." She answers, quiet as the night, but steady as the heart that beats inside her chest. The silence that falls is only broken by the crackle of their campfire, its golden light warm as if he had slipped his arm around her shoulders. Sansa wonders just when she went from swearing off the touch of any man to wishing that Jon might touch her again, might touch her more. She wonders why it doesn't feel wrong to want that.

Beside her, he shifts so he might face her better, as if he means to commit to memory the shape of her profile illuminated there by the firelight. In just a few short days, he will walk out onto the battlefield, all to protect her, all to win back the home that belongs to them. Jon can't quite say when it happened, but she's suddenly become the most important person in his life, the one person he knows he can't let down. That he won't let down. When he steps out onto the battlefield to face Ramsay Bolton, he intends to win, simply to keep her safe.

He realizes then that she's turned in to face him, too, her blue eyes bright in the firelight, wishing for a single instant that this moment never had to end. That there was no battle to be fought, no fear that Jon might not come back to her... That she might have to go back to Winterfell, back to Ramsay. No, she already has decided what happens if somehow, someway, Ramsay wins. But deep in her heart, despite it all, despite everything that told her otherwise, she knows Jon will win. That he will protect her, just like he promised.

And just like that, she leans in, head to his shoulder, closing her eyes as she settles into place. It doesn't take Jon long to slip an arm around her, drawing her in just a little closer. Somehow, the warmth from their campfire couldn't even compare to the way it felt so have her tucked against him.

It was a feeling he wouldn't give up for anything.

[fedonciadale]

A gaze across the field - part 1

This is for the jonsa drabble event, Saturdy, free choice and I am one day late..... I split the story in two parts which are just under 500 word (yes, I know this is cheating....) Also on AO3.... @jonsadrabbles

“I am not going back there alive, do you hear me?”

Her own voice rang in her ears. He looked so hurt, so concerned, that she could not bear it any longer. She spun on her heels and left the tent. Nothing she said had swayed Jon. Stupid, heroic, stubborn Jon. One should think that having been stabbed to death by men who were supposed to be his brothers, he would have a better understanding of how the world was, of how politics went, how wars were won.

But, no, he still thought that they had a chance of getting Rickon back, he still thought that they should win, because right was on their side. He still thought that Ramsay could be duped into a trap. That they could win even though they had fewer men. Sansa was so angry at him.

She had played her last card, reminded him of his duty to her, reminded him of what she had suffered. If he insisted to fight, he should at least know what was at stake. If he failed, he should know the price.

Dark thoughts got hold of her. Thoughts of Jon dying on the battlefield, in despair, because he knew that his failure meant her death. She shuddered. She had not lied. She had long learned that the truth could be wielded as effectively as a lie. The truth would make him try his best, fight until his last breath.

Back in her own tent she took up her sewing kit. She would not sleep, not tonight. She had not heard from Littlefinger, although she had made many promises, promises she hoped she could wriggle out of once Winterfell was theirs. She violently stabbed her needle in the cloth on her lap. It was a symbol of the hope she had not yet lost. A Stark banner that could hang from the battlements once the accursed Boltons were gone. Her needle went straight through her finger and she cursed, sticking her finger in her mouth but not before droplets of blood had sprayed on the cloth, right where the direwolf’s mouth was.

She must have dozed off after all, because it was dawn when she looked up again. A servant stood at the entrance of her tent, a rider. He held a small piece of paper in his hands.

Sansa jumped from her seat, took the paper, and read what was written there.

‘Come and meet me, sweetling.’

She let the piece of paper fall to the ground. “Are you to bring me to him?”

The rider just nodded.

“Did he bring an army?” The rider stayed silent. Littlefinger would not discard a winning hand.

She could stay here, let Jon fight this battle, she had not wanted, not at this time, let Littlefinger smolder. He might have brought an army though, not just the promise of one. His army might be enough to swing the scales, enough to save the brother she had pushed to fight.