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Chapter Text

“Father, do you have to go?” Sansa asked again. To make sure that it wasn’t a bad dream.

Her father, Rickon Stark put down his sword and looked at his eldest daughter. There they were threatening to fall from her eyes, the tears he didn’t wanted see otherwise he won’t be able to go. Standing up from his seat he embraced his little girl -not little but all the same for him-.

“We must do our duty to the crown, little pup.” He whispered taking her face in his hands. She had grown so beautiful.

“But what’s the meaning of this war? The dornishmen are not doing anything! So many men have gone in their land and gotten lost in the sands to be never seen again.” Sansa pressed, trying very hard to not break in tears. She didn’t feel good about this at all.

“I swear on the old gods and the new that I will look after myself and not get lost in sands.” He laughed running his thumb on her cheeks to wipe her tears.

Sansa’s lips quivered and a sob broke from her throat. She threw her hands around her father’s neck and cried harder “What will I do when you’re gone? Who will protect me?”

His face hardened, this will not do. His daughter wasn’t weak but isn’t love everyone’s weakness? He took a step back and placed his hand upon her shoulders “After me, you will be the Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell and rule the North. You are my daughter, my heir, my blood. Look at me Sansa, you have a duty to your house, you have to look after Serena, you have to look after North. You cannot show any weakness, and here,” he grasped the copper wolf pendant on her chest “the wolf in you will always protect you.”

Her sobs did stop and she wiped her tears with the sleeve of her dress. Rickon offered her a glass of water “Promise me you will not show any weakness and be strong just as me, Sansa.”

“I will be strong. Just like you, just like the wolves. I promise.”

The ancient godswood was the favourite place of Sansa in the whole castle. Dutifully she had prayed in front of the heart tree everyday since she turned three. They claim that the gods listen to people with pure and courageous heart. Since her father left for South Sansa like he had wished only prayed for their victory, for every man’s good health, for their early written but did she pray for her father’s life?

Lord Cregan Stark and his wife along with their two eldest sons were already waiting for Sansa and Serena in the lords solar. Sansa kept her head high and walked in directly looking at her grandfather’s face. She didn’t even feel a bit easy in the closed room, everything appeared grim in there. Tightly holding her sister’s hand, she looked at her half uncle who just kept looking at the desk.

Calling for all courage she finally broke the silence “Grandfather. You asked for us?”

Lord Cregan looked up at his granddaughters. There was tension on their face, they may even suspect something but there still was steel underneath Sansa, he knew. Let the gods give her strength.

“Your father, Rickon he isn’t coming back. He fought bravely in the war and won every battle but perished during the taking of Sunspear.” Edric disclosed, the only one who could break this news to them. Cregan didn’t wanted to believe that, didn’t wanted to hear that.

“NO!” it was Serena who shrieked and broke into tears. Her sister stood with a stiff back, not even a trace of shock or grief on her face. Sansa wasn’t like that.

I must be as strong as father, as strong as the wolves.

“So, the king won?” That was the only thing she could ask.

Her grandfather was a hard man yet he looked shocked at her but after a moment nodded “Yes. Dorne has been conquered.”

Taking a gulp, she sighed “Good. Anything else lord grandfather?”

The old man just shook his head “you can go.”

Sansa crouched down to her sister who kept weeping on floor. She put her arm around Serena and ran a hand through her back “Shh, Serena. Come with me.” Sansa whispered.

Serena’s whole body was shaking badly, she stood up fully supported by her elder sister, clutching on her like she would leave her too. “Father, Sansa. He-”

Sansa hugged her, pressing a kiss at her temple “Yes, I know. Come with me please. Please.” But her sister couldn’t, her whole face had turned red and hot, her hands turning cold, Serena fainted in Sansa’s arm.

“SERENA! JON HELP ME!” she called for him, and he was there so close to her taking her sister in his arms and running to maester’s tower.

Sansa couldn’t allow herself to cry, she couldn’t allow herself to grief when she needed to be strong. As strong as any she wolf had been. She sat by her sister’s bed all night and all day until Serena woke up while Sansa massaged her head.

“When the snow falls and white wind blows, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.” She remembered the words and wondered if they are really that true?

Serena shifted and placed her head on her sister’s lap, as her long finger danced through Serena’s brown hair “I remember, I had shouted at little Lyanna when she was annoying and following us like a mindless simpleton. That was the only time father ever got angry with me ‘a pack stays strong, and a pack stays together.’ I miss him Sansa.”

“I do too. But he still lives here and always will. In me, in you.” Spoke Sansa placing her hand over her sister’s heart. Serena gave her a small smile and closed her eyes while her sister hummed her favourite song. A sad song…

“Leave the arrow pierce my heart,

I dropped down to the ground

And pour the blood around, like water.

Lonely tears, hollow cheeks,

No funerals and no feast,

No mourners for the warrior.

It’s time to go, I am lost in the darkness

My face is how I could confide in.

There only these six of greatest sorrows

My broken heart will keep inside.”

Once her little sister fell asleep again, Sansa stood up from the bed and tucked Serena in warm blanket. After pressing a kiss on her forehead she left the room. It had been a warm summer day, yet the night was chilling to the bone.

Sansa took feather like steps and walked outside the main keep, there weren’t many guards there either or anyone to ask her any question. Cold wind was lightly blowing creating it’s song by cutting through the walls. Without the cloak she had to wrap her arms around herself to shield from the cold as she walked towards the godswood. Her teeth almost rattling with each other.

The godswood was the heart of every castle they said, Sansa wondered if the dornish castles had any godswood where the gods may had looked for her father, but there were no old gods beneath the Neck. They had no power in the strange lands of the South. More so in Dorne, the maesters said that it even in the cruelest of winters, it never snowed in Dorne. Winter doesn’t come for Dorne.

The sorrowful face of the wierwood watched her as she approached. It’s beautiful red leaf falling in the lake, dry leaves same as her hairs covered the ground where he stood. Here even her light steps created the rustling sound alerting him. But perhaps he knew that’s why kept standing and looking at the great Heart tree. Only turning at her when she came to stand next to him.

“Here.” He opened his cloak and donned it on her shoulders, when the warmth engulfed her, she realised how cold it was before. “Sansa, are you-”

“Let me pray.” She cut him and knelt down. Joining her hands, she looked at her left where he had knelt too, bowed his head and closed his eyes.

Let father’s soul find peace, let him find his heaven with mother to accompany him. Give Serena and grandfather strength to pass these times of grief. Let everyone who died fighting for their king and who died protecting their homeland find peace. Help the mothers and daughters who lost their sons and fathers in this war. Give them strength, give them courage.

She opened her eyes and once again turned her head, Jonnel was looking at her with his fair grey eyes, his hands still joined for prayer. She wondered if he had just kept staring at her whole time.

“How is Serena?” he asked with worry visible on his face.

Sansa gave a nod “the fever is low, but she isn’t faring well. Father, he was very close to her, to us.” She answered running her hands on her olive-green dress.

He nodded to, then sniffed before asking “He was. How are you Sansa?”

She felt her heart beating faster at his question. How was she? Sansa herself didn’t knew, what all she could think was to be strong, to be brave, to look after Serena and look after North. To be her father’s daughter, to be her father’s heir, to be a Stark of Winterfell who cannot show weakness. Her hands trembled so she made them in a fist and wrapped Jonnel’s cloak around herself tighter.

“Cant you tell Jon?” was all she could whisper.

Jonnel Stark quickly stood up and wrapped her in his arms, pressing a kiss on her forehead. Sansa stood up, being supported by his weight, she couldn’t feel her legs and her whole body was going numb. How long had she sat by her sister’s side? A night and a day without eating or drinking anything. Her moon blood had also come just a day ago, already draining any energy left in her.

“You are weak, you need to eat something.” Jon advised, still handling her close.

“I am not weak!” she muttered through her tears and angrily wiped them. I can’t be weak.

Jon only shook his head and bent to scooped her in his arms. She didn’t want to fight with him, and it was only good for her as she did feel tired, placed her hand on his shoulder and her head on his chest. He carried her outside, towards the great hall.

The moon already shone high in the dark blue night sky surrounded by stars shining from the distant land. The torches have long blown out, it was the moonlight in which Sansa could trace Jon’s long handsome face, it was the silent of the night in which she could hear his heart beating against hers, it was the cold of the North in which she could feel his warm breath on her face.

He is still here; did he really stay for me when he wanted to leave for the noble calling of Night’s Watch?

Placing her down on the dais in the Great Hall, Jonnel left for the kitchen while Sansa put her head down on the table. There always had been this strange relation between them. Jonnel was her father’s half brother yet a decade and half younger than him, only three years elder than Sansa they both have grown up together. And close, they were closer than it was appropriate for them. And his mother never liked Sansa much.

Holding two trays himself and two with a servant he came back and placed them in front of her. The servant soon left as he motioned him too. There was black bread and mutton stew, porridge and apple cakes. The scent of the food was enough to wake her stomach from the slumber it had been in. A small smile appeared on her face as Jon started serving a little larger portion for her, he also poured some ale then leaned on the chair with his head back.

“Aren’t you eating?” She questioned before breaking the bread.

“I wasn’t on a fast like you.” He blurted out. Then sat straighter, a guilty look passed on his face but grabbed the jar of ale.

And maybe it shouldn’t have hurt her, it still did. Why? Sansa didn’t know. She ate her food —which was warm— in silence then hastily drank the ale. It came throbbing in her throat, she choked and banged her hand on the table.

“Jon!” she called with her hand still on her throat. Her big blue grey eyes looking at him with desperation.

“Sansa. Try to cough out.” He handed her the water; she couldn’t take it as her muscles were almost going stiff. Yet he poured water in her mouth which tasted bitter sweet and all the same.

She gasped and coughed as he thrusts her back. There were black dots framing in front of her eyes, unconsciously she grabbed the wolf of her pendant and looked at Jon, her eyes begging him to help her.

When it didn’t stop and she was almost on verge of fainting he wildly grabbed her up and applied all pressure up and down on her abdomen from the back. She vomited, all her eaten food coming out from her mouth mixed with the ale and water she drank. Some also fell on her skirt and his shoes. But atleast Sansa was alive and could breathe, could feel the air filling her lungs once again.

“I am sorry. I will call someone to clean it. Do you… do you need to go to Maester Kennet?” gazing in her eyes Jonnel questioned.

Her white face had turned red, soaked with tears and sweat, even smelling horrible. She had felt death almost touching her. Sansa shook her head and grabbed Jon’s arm.

“Please, stay with me tonight.” And he didn’t deny her.

I need to be as strong as the wolves. As father.

How many days would have taken by a raven to fly from Sunspear and reach Winterfell? How many days have been passed since her father died? Sansa only got the news a week ago and people of Winterfell have already decided her and her sister’s place in their home.

“With your father dead, Jonnel should succeed me as the Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North.” Lord Cregan Stark claimed while signing the papers Sansa was sure sealed her fate either several feet under Winterfell or several miles from Winterfell.

“You can’t do this. Lord Stark.” Quietly she warned, glaring at solemn man.

Lady Lynara though interjected in between “You are all but a little girl, who will bore children of different blood. Jon is a true Stark with him Winterfell would remain to the Starks.” Her voice and words both were poison wrapped in cake.

“You will stay out of this!” Sansa hissed at the older woman who gave her nothing but an Icy smile. Taking long strides she snatched that parchment from her grandfather, throwing inkpot on other letters.

“SANSA!” lord Stark bellowed, his grey eyes filling with anger.

She grinded her teeth and clenched the paper in her hand “No Lord Stark. YOU WILL NOT ROB ME OF MY BIRTHRIGHT!” she threw the papers in the fire and stormed out of his solar. There was only anger in her, the betrayal, the hurt, the pain summing up to the anger.

Sansa was out in the courtyard almost running towards Jon, as far as she knew him, he will refuse his father and will not usurp her. He will make his mother understand and father realize that Sansa should be the true heir. That she is her father’s heir and will be till she draw her last breath. And she is capable of ruling North, capable of looking after Winterfell and using Ice if needed.

“SANSA! THAT ACT OF YOURS WILL NOT BE TOLERATED! YOUR PERSONAL WHIMS DON’T MATTER TO ME AS THIS FAMILY DO! YOU WILL ACCEPT MY COMMAND BECAUSE I SAW THAT WAR! AND I WILL NOT LET THAT HAPPEN IN NORTH!” her grandfather, Lord Cregan shouted from the bridge that connected the main keep to armory.

Everyone present now were looking at the duo of grandfather and granddaughter. Sansa saw her aunt Mariah and sister Serena with little Brandon in their arms. She saw Lyanna with the stewards’ daughters, she saw Barthogan standing with a wooden sword towering over both of his elder brothers. She saw servants and maid who stopped in their tracks to watch the scene, the guards who startled at the roaring voice of their lord. Jonnel was the one glaring at her.

“THEN WHY DID YOU FOUGHT FOR A WOMAN’S CLAIM?! MY FATHER WAS SET TO INHERIT WINTERFELL AND WITH HIM DEAD BY ALL THE LAWS OF WESTEROS IT SHOULD PASS TO ME NOT YOUR BASTARDS!” She countered shouting with all the energy in her.

“Mind your tongue bitch!” Barthogan barked, a literal aurochs in Sansa’s opinion.

She turned her ice like gaze on the boy “or what? You will cut my tongue? Kill me? Poison my food? Your brother already tried that, failed miserably because of his soft heart.” It was accusation even she wasn’t sure of, yet still pressed. Her eyes shifted to Jon’s face and there was anger, hurt but no denial.

“You are grieving Sansa, and I hope soon you will stop this madness and come to your senses. You are a woman; your father only filled your head with empty dreams even he knew won’t come true.” In a soft yet booming voice Lady Lynara spoke again. Her husband stood next to her as stiff as the Wall, face as red as the wierwood leaves, eyes as fierce as the winter storm through which he angrily stared at Sansa and Jonnel.

Sansa looked at all of them and passed the smile, the wolf smile to her grandfather “My father’s bones have not even returned yet and you want to throw me out? If you thought that yourself so smart and thought you prevented a war then you are wrong. You asked for it, and I will give you one.” Bare teeth she promised like a wolf and walked out.

Fuming with anger and hurt Sansa walked to the stables. She had loved her grandfather with all her heart, she had been a dutiful lady. Her father had asked her to be strong and he had promised her that it would be her ruling Winterfell after him, after Lord Cregan then where did Jonnel came from? Was this her punishment for loving him, he had tried to kill her and she still trusted him but with silence he proclaimed his love. Now with blood she will.

Chapter Text

Lord Cregan Stark burning with fury had his eldest living son locked up in his chambers despite his wife’s protest. Jonnel was half in mind to fight the guards and fight his father but he didn’t instead only raged whole day in his chambers, destroying fine vases, curtains, books and chairs. Acting like a caged beast. He had done everything, everything in his power to not succumb in the dangerous pit yet he did.

Sansa was beautiful, he loved her deep eyes, he loved her long auburn hairs, he loved her sweet laugh and loved her keen nature. He wanted protect her, he wanted to have her and he knew it was lust, desire and a longing wrong in every possible way, she was his niece. Even if half niece it was written in stars that he couldn’t have her just as he couldn’t have Winterfell and North.

“Did you tried to kill her?” His father questioned; the old man still loomed over him.

Jon couldn’t look in his eyes “I am not a kinslayer.” He muttered through his teeth.

“Sansa has fire in her, fire strong enough that the foolish girl would burn the whole North with it. And why not she is my granddaughter, she will not be easily cowed. But that’s not what it takes to rule the North, she had to be the ice to rule these lands, to deal with those stubborn brutes who will get ready to be beheaded than bow to her.” Lord Cregan explained and Jon didn’t know why to him? Surely, he could have explained Sansa that and she wouldn’t have acted like that.

Jon stayed silent and clenched his jaw shut. Lord Cregan was expecting him to say something but he won’t give him that satisfaction. He kept picking his skin near the thumb, letting the silence settle between the father and son.

“And you think I will be a worthy successor of yours?” Jonnel scoffed. Lord Cregan had never seen him as such, too busy to praise and trust his eldest son and daughters. It really never mattered to the old man of what he did, right or wrong Jonnel had stopped considering long ago.

Lord Stark gazed at him, some pride shining on his face “You are my son! Worth above everything. Come to meet me tomorrow morning.” With that he departed.

Jon turned around opened his arms and dropped on the bed. A laugh escaped from his throat, and he didn’t stop but kept laughing until tears started to fall from his eyes. For how long Jonnel didn’t knew, Sansa’s face floated in front of him, her eyes filled with unshed tears, begging him to help her. To save her. And in truth he was crying.

“Come to Wintertown with me, let’s celebrate your ascendance.” It was Edric, his little brother leaning on the door frame. An amused smile plastered on his face.

“If I die or kill myself, will you celebrate your place as father’s next heir too?” But Jon didn’t deny the offer for good beer and women present in Wintertown.

Lord Bernard Bolton was fostered in Winterfell, with Sansa’s father. Both of them have been close friends. Closer than her father was with his own half brothers. And when Sansa arrived at Dreadfort after the sun has set riding through the White Knife and Lonely Hills, Lord Bolton provided her shelter and bread and salt.

“You have my condolences for your father’s death. Rickon was truly an honorable man. There must be some reason that you have came here at this hour without any guards and in this health.” Lord Bolton remarked after giving her a one look.

Unknowingly Sansa had grabbed Jonnel’s cloak when she rode out and was too angry to return back and change it with another. She clasped it around her tighter “I have come to seek the aid of honorable men of North. My father’s bones have not yet rested in the crypts and Lady Lynara and her sons plan to make mine and my sister’s place there. I was poisoned and now my grandfather is passing over me and plan to declare Jonnel as his heir. I need your help Lord Bolton, please.” Pleading she gazed into his pale eyes.

Lord Bernard only nodded “I… I would have to think through this. You do know that Lord Cregan was also like a father to me, I-”

“Violence is not necessary. I am not a kinslayer and I don’t plan to be one. I just want the lords and ladies to petition for me, because I am my father’s rightful heir, I am a daughter of North who is been wronged.” She kept her voice low and sounded as desperate as one can. In this hour she was desperate.

Lord Bolton sighed and took a seat in front of her, Lady Wenda Bolton and her children were also present in the hall, along with Lady Barba Hornwood, his sister. They all passed each other look then finally Lord Bolton spoke “Lord Cregan Stark is still our liege and his word is a command for us. It’s death to bare our sword against our liege lord. We cannot defy him Lady Sansa.”

There was a plate of food in front of her, Sansa threw it away and angrily stood up. The sound startled Lady Bolton. “If it was your daughter my father would have done same for her. He would have fought even the king!” she barked. Not at all like a lady but a daughter of North.

“Your father is dead. And I have a duty to my house, for my lands. What will I gain by helping a woman? My sons are too young to marry you and my daughter here can be the next Lady of Winterfell.” There was an icy calmness in his voice. And Sansa was only feeling safe because of the guest right.

“Then I will not bother you, my lord.” She did a mock bow and walked out.

Chaos broke out in Winterfell when Lady Sansa wasn’t found anywhere in the castle. They searched every corner of Godswood, every room, storage, every level of Crypts going down till the names of Kings started fading and their direwolves grew larger. Jon himself searched everywhere twice after everyone else has. And he was still drunk trying very best to avoid lord Cregan until he gets to bath.

“But Lady Sansa took her mare and left yesterday only.” The stable master informed “After her quarrel with lord Stark.”

Her sister will know.

He knocked loudly on Serena’s door, the little girl had her eyes red and swollen from crying. It didn’t feel a bit appropriate to him to console her, she isn’t Sansa. “Where is your sister, Serena?”

She shook her head still looking down “I don’t know.” Serena was little thing, drabbed in a black mourning gown, her hairs were tangled in worst ways. It was only evident that she wasn’t taking care of herself.

Jon grabbed her jaw and forcefully made her look at him “You don’t know where your big sister is? Hunh? How can’t you know where your sister is?” angrily he hissed at her.

Serena wasn’t tamed one, if anything she was wilder than her sister. She spat at him, making him instantly pushing her away. “If you ever touched me again, I swear by the old gods your mother will find your corpse hanging on the heart tree.”

Jonnel left the wild girl alone locked in her room. He will have to send her away once he becomes the lord, she was clearly a very bad influence for his sister Lyanna and little Bran. Sansa wasn’t, Sansa was not wild. His Sansa is the North. She is the first snowfall, the snowflakes which melts in their hands, the cold which still feels warm, Sansa is the song of birds flying to distant lands in winters, Sansa is the concoction which keeps them warm in coldest days. And I will not let her go.

“She would have gone to her mother’s father Lord Manderly. She must be in White Harbor or in her way to White Harbor. We should send a raven there.” Edric suggested.

Lord Cregan nodded and motioned Maester Kennet to send one. “Lord Torrhen Manderly is also Raya’s good cousin. But Sansa will only make a fool of herself to go to him, he has six daughters yet it’s Ser Rogar who sets to inherit White Harbor not any of his daughters or their children.”

“Sansa is his blood. It will benefit him greatly if she comes to rule the North. How can a man turn away the daughter of his precious child?” Jon spoke with a hidden mirth. He seriously needed to get his mind right and behave if he wanted to keep his head. The beer from last night had still not left him it seems.

He wanted it, he wanted Winterfell, he wanted North. And always tried to prove himself better yet couldn’t because Rickon was elder than him and had done everything before him. Jonnel still never stopped, he did everything that was asked of him, he did his duty as Stark and was also ready to join Night’s Watch and would have if Sansa hasn’t stopped him. And he wanted her then, he wanted Sansa and he wanted Winterfell no matter how wrong it sounds.

Lord Cregan in return looked at his sword Ice “I am not turning my granddaughter away Jonnel. She is the true wolf of Winterfell and she will be the Lady of Winterfell after I die and our line will progress through her. It’s what Rickon wanted, that was his last wish and it will come true.” Lord of Winterfell, the One Day Hand declared.

Perhaps father also needs to get his mind right. And decide who his heir is.

“But! But you decreed Jon as your heir!” Barth pointed out and their father sighed.

Jon could see his father mentally face palming himself while glaring at Barth. Perhaps if Jon had kept his mouth shut, he won’t have been a one-day heir. Edric on the other side still stood with a smile as if he puzzled out a riddle or something.

“Jonnel and Sansa, they fulfill each other. Sansa is merciful Jon is merciless. Sansa knows how to make people love her and Jon knows how to make people fear him. Men will follow Jon not Sansa. Sansa can always keep him straight and Jon can always protect her after I am gone. He will take her as his bride and join their claim for Winterfell.” Spoke Lord Stark, his voice calmly settling in the room.

“W... what?” he stuttered. He may have dreamt of the same thing —taking Sansa as his bride— but that also included of them running away to Essos, buying a home in Bravos and living as a man and wife with several children. Not as Lord and Lady of Winterfell because she still was his niece and they weren’t damned Targaryens!!

Lord Stark now turned at him with his icy gaze “Close your mouth boy. Leave this castle and don’t return until you find your niece and bring her back to Winterfell no matter what happens. Because if she came without you then I will pack you off to Night’s Watch and give Winterfell to Sansa alone.”

Lord and Lady Hornwood, Cerwyn, Dustin, Ryswell and Flint all replied her pleas with the same question ‘what do we get? Will you marry in our house? Will your sister? We can make our own daughters Lady of Winterfell’ and things like that. Sansa had nothing to offer them. She couldn’t promise away Serena, she couldn’t promise away herself when her treacherous heart still fluttered for someone else.

No one will fight for honor but my womb which will give them children who will rule as Starks. No one will marry me for love but for my claim to Winterfell. So, their blood rules not me… not Sansa Stark.

Rose, her beautiful black mare was also as tired as her. Sansa wondered if her grandfather searched for her, if he sent scout or he was glad that she was gone. If this world would have been a good place Sansa would have gone to the Wall or beyond the Wall to live with Wildlings than go back to Winterfell defeated. She had vowed her grandfather that there would be blood for what he is doing, she ought to atleast kept to her word. Giving a kick to Rose she rode towards north, perhaps Lord Umber and Lord Karstark would hear her plea.

“Let me give you a womanly wisdom niece, no men will fight for you until you bore sons and grandsons for his house. Stop this madness and stop this bloodlust. They are our family.” Lady Serra Cerwyn’s words still echoed in her ears. Perhaps she should follow them…

Sansa had been riding for two days and Last Hearth was no where in her vision. There were fields and villages near the Kingsroad where she dismounted and met with the common folk. She ate with them, she listened to the women and girls, she worked with them to return for what she took, played with their children and told them stories and songs. If the lord’s will not object grandfather, then they will. My people will. I am the North. Just as they are.

On her fourth night, there still wasn’t any trace of a castle or any human she would say. In distance she could only see cabin lit with fireflies buzzing around it. She raced to towards the cabin as a first drop of cold water dropped from sky. Surprisingly that place was warm with forest just on the back of it. Standing on porch, she rocked on her toes wondering if it would be better to knock? Nobody would harm her right? She was still Lord Cregan Stark’s granddaughter.

After two knocks on the wooden gate, it creaked open, an old woman with brown skin as of a tree bark answered the knock. She had vivid green eyes of wet forest Sansa noticed.

“I am Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell, on my way to Last Hearth but it’s gotten dark and a rain is on verse. Can I please take a shelter here for tonight? In return I will help you in any possible way I can.” With a soft smile Sansa requested.

Something changed in the older woman’s eyes as she directly looked at her chest where the copper direwolf rested and only then the women bowed her head “It will be a pleasure of mine to help our lady of North. Come.”

It wasn’t a large cabin but there was a sweet-smelling air in it, it smelled of wilderness, the snow mountains if she recalls correctly. As for providing the guest right, the older woman gave her a warm loaf of bread and water. She thanked her for it. The woman just curiously watched her and then walked to her back and picked up Sansa’s cloak.

“Why are you running away from him, little dove?” the woman’s question startled Sansa and she turned back to her.

“That ‘him’ tried to kill me.” Sansa said taking her cloak back. She warily looked at the old woman and then around her self.

“He did? He saved you. If he wanted to kill you it would have been easy for him when he stayed in your chambers whole night little bird.” The woman chuckled and Sansa’s face flushed.

They had done nothing, no she has mourned for her father sitting in his lap while he consoled her, held her close, muttered apologies and they have slept like that. But in the morning his fine clothes have been destroyed because of her, tears and blood stained. She covered her face once again thinking of the embarrassment.

There was a cauldron streaming on the torches, a bird’s nest in which the little creature slept, a wreath of winter roses decorating the window and jars full of fireflies. There was no fire, yet the place was warm. Also, the woman had wild hairs same as Serena and she kept singing a song of roses and Winterfell Sansa had never heard before.

“Are you? Are you a woodswitch?” curiously she questioned.

The witch or the woman graciously looked back at Sansa “Yes. M’lady. Do you need a help of woodswitch? I can make potions which will never let you fall ill, I can give you potions which will make men fall in love with you, I can make potions which can cure any disease, I can tell your future and I can read the stars, the winds whisper in my ears and the gods bless me with their secrets. I can ask the gods to grant you your hearts desire Sansa. Say it. What do you want?” she sang and spun closer to Sansa. Her face just a mare inches away from hers. A wildness spoke through her, drowning Sansa in the song which she heard.

But the wish of god’s granting her want she needs, there was only one person she could ask “My father. Can he come back to me?” Emotions swelled up in her. She bit her lips and closed her eyes. Her father’s smiling face came in her memory.

“Oh, oh my sweet little bird. Gods take men who are dear to them, listen to your heart and feel the cold wind embracing you. Your father was North as are you, in the rustling of winds, in howl of Wolves he is always there.” Kindly she spoke and stood up, her short plump fingers undoing Sansa’s braid.

“Jon.” She didn’t want to say that but still did. He was going to be the lord perhaps he will take her as his lady and she will rub it in the face of all the nobles who turned her away.

The witch gasped “He is your father’s brother.”

“I know, but perhaps then I don’t have to fight him more. I don’t want to fight him. My aunt says I am being foolish.” Sansa confessed. Aunt Sarra had asked her to consider this one more. It’s her right but showing this behaviour will get her nowhere and she will loose all she has been offered. There is nothing offered to me.

“He shares blood with you, you will have to pay a great price to get him. Oh, yes, he is there entangled with you in this life and another, either forty days or a hundred years after this life, he will be yours. But are you already to burn for him? To die for him? To live for him? Are you willing to give anything for him?” she questioned turning in front, her on hand on Sansa’s shoulder, one on her womb.

Sansa understood what that meant. She asks for her unborn children. Children whom she can name for her father, mother and grandmother. Children who can have her hairs and… his eyes. She knows too many lullabies she can sing to them, perhaps Lady Lynara will also love them, her beautiful little children.

“Will I never be able to give birth?” She questioned to know every aspect of the deal before signing up for something she may regret later.

“Not in this life but you will give your Jon a many sons and daughters but not till a century and half. The gods say it’s his punishment and your reward because no man had loved a woman as he loves you and no will.” The witch promised and Sansa closed her eyes once again, the unshed tears tracing down her cheeks.

Jon would have been a good father. Like father, he would have loved his children. And like father he would know what it feels like to have no sons and he will feel that greatly because he won’t even have daughters.

“And what if I don’t want him? What if I refuse or not come in a position to carry his children? Like it’s still incest, grandfather would never agree.” Sansa shrugged and bit her lip once again.

“And you love him, you want him. You pray for him; you dream of him. The fates can change but your heart will forever ache, you will not be able to see him with another and he won’t let you with another, after a century you both will break and leave when you need each other the most. Do you want a life fill with desperation and sadness or one with there is a little hope and love stronger than the ballads they wrote?” even the madness in her has settled now. The witch genuinely sounded caring.

Sansa thought of her father sparring with little Jonnel in the training yard while she and Mariah had hooted and clapped for their little half uncle and half brother. “He is my uncle. Even if he is just three years elder than me he is… my father’s half brother.”

“He will be your brother and you will still succumb to the wills of fate. A life of love and hope is better than a life of desperation and sadness, believe me there is a great deal of grief written for you.”

I must be strong, as strong as the wolves.

Chapter Text

Winter was resting, drinking water from the Long Lake. Jonnel kept near his stallion washing his own face with the cold water. A beard had grown on his face of lately, and in his journey, he had no time to shave it. Barth would say that it looks good on him, that he looks like a man with it, but will Sansa like it?

There was a village near the shore, all people casting him a strange look. He paid them no mind instead waited for his stallion to finish his quench fast. He had left Winterfell alone, making his little brothers stay because Sansa was his responsibility not theirs and no guards because Sansa also had none with her.

The first place he went was to Castle Cerwyn, Sansa was rather close to Sarra. His sister has been her usual self, warm and lovely taking no part in the feud between her niece and father. She told him that he had been late Sansa had already left for Barrowtown or Torrhen’s Square. And Lord Tallhart and Lord Dustin will tell her that she rode out north when they refused to help her. He did notice how all of them had paraded their daughters in front of him, as if he will give up on Sansa.

“Ser, are you looking for your princess?” A little girl tugged on his breaches.

Jon stared at the brown-haired creature smiling brightly at him. He crouched down to her level “Yes. And do this little fairy know of my princess?” He played along, sending the girl in a fit of giggles.

She put her forefinger on her chin as if to ponder about something “Does her hair match with the wierwood leaves? And her eyes like the water of Long Lake?” she questioned.

Jonnel was surprised, is this girl really a fairy? “Yes!” he blurted out smiling wildly.

“The wolf princess!” with wide grey eyes and a shaky nod the girl exclaimed, clapping her hands and gave him a large smile, two teeths missing in front.

“Yes! Sansa. Thank the gods it’s Sansa.” Jon sighed, and covered his face sending a prayer to gods. In happiness he also ruffled the little fairy’s hair.

A man and a woman came running in his direction, Jon only noticed when they picked up the little girl.  "How many times I must tell you to stay away from strangers Arya!” the woman, probably her mother chided.

“But he is searching for his princess! The-” she said but was cut by her father.

“What do you want?” the man asked him, clearly scared because Jon was standing taller than him and carried a sword.

“I am Jonnel Stark of Winterfell, looking for my niece Lady Sansa Stark. Your daughter says she is here.” Jon informed trying and failing to sound like his elder brother.

Both husband and wife knelt in front of him, with bowed head the woman spoke “Lady Sansa came here few days ago, My lord. She was on her way to Last Heart, to meet Lord Umber.”

“She only left yesterday and wouldn’t have gone too far, it rained whole night.” Her husband added.

“Thank you very much.” With that he galloped on his horse and raced towards Last Hearth.

Jon was good at archery, not as good as Edric but a fine one. That made him a good hunter too and he successfully hunted a wild deer. But miserably failed to arrange a fire, the whole forest was still wet and so were the stubborn wood which refused to burn and catch fire. So, there was Jonnel Stark, hungry in middle of a forest with a living stallion and a dead deer.

Atleast Winter could feast upon fresh sweet grass which he happily was devouring.

“I am a wolf; I can eat raw meat. It doesn’t taste bad, when Chad sometimes undercooks it. I can do this; I can do this. I can eat this.” He patted himself on the shoulder, drew a long breath and started skinning the animal. A bloody process.

In the end, Jon couldn’t eat it. He didn’t even try because when he cut opened the body, there was an unborn babe inside it. He did satisfy his hunger with guilt and frustration. Taking the forest was a stupid decision, he thought he would reach faster to Last Hearth with this route, he knew this forest yet he couldn’t even find the Last River.

Rickon would have found Sansa, he was always better at everything. Sansa wouldn’t have even run if Rickon was here. And his daughter ran because of me. Jon has seen Ser Rogar going towards Winterfell with Silent Sisters and some men when he was coming here. Rickon’s bones have come from south to rest in their rightful place, at Winterfell. He needed to find Sansa to let her know, to take her back.

The sun was still shining in the sky, a clear day after rain. There was an aura of wilderness and freshness around him, the overwhelming smell of soil after rain filled his mind. Everything in the forest seem quiet and busy at the same time, Jonnel listened the chirping of the birds and the flapping of their wings. The quiet footsteps of animals on the wet soil, and noisy song of insects. The invitation of the winds cutting through trees and leaves dancing in it. The gurgling sound of the river… sound of the river, he needed to follow it.

“I came from south, there. So, the Wall lies there at north, on my right. Then Winterfell is at my back in the west. I need to move towards east. That’s where the Last River is and Last Hearth.” He said aloud to himself and his dear stallion Winter who looked ready to run miles.

And Winter indeed ran faster. Jon was a good rider, a centaur some would say. He rode towards east as fast as he could, if he reached fast enough, he can find Sansa in Last Hearth. She would have not come into the forest, not that she wasn’t brave but she was smarter and cautious than Jon.

The river's water sparkled bright blue with the sun light falling on it. He could see the large canopy of red leaves held on strong white branches surrounded by dark green forest. Jon rode on the west bank following the river, the large heart tree on the eastern shore of the Last River came in his sight. This one doesn’t have a solemn face like the one in Winterfell, its eyes were closed and calm smile carved on its face. A face gods must have possessed, not like in Winterfell where it looks like they are done with this world. 

A black mare was grazing on the grass nearby and a woman with long auburn hairs and a grey cloak —his cloak— sat in front of the Heart Tree. Her eyes were closed, shivering hands joined near her heart and her pink lips murmuring a prayer.

“Sansa.” He breathed.

Lyanna had made him a black cloak, even though she wasn’t a but happy with him going. He carefully folded it and placed it in the bottom of his trunk. When Jonnel had announced to his father about his intentions to go the Wall and become a black brother, Lord Cregan had approved saying it was a noble call and Starks of Winterfell have served in it since it was built by Brandon the Builder. But Rickon had protested calling his decision childish and Jonnel Stark a summer child not made for the lands and cold beyond the Wall.

But he is a man grown who could make his own decisions. What would he even do in Winterfell? At the Wall atleast he could find an adventure, fight wildlings and rise to the post of Lord Commander. Also, Mariah says that black looks good on him, matching with his grey eyes.

“Can I come in?” Sansa asked knocking on the door.

Jon turned around and found her standing on the door, carrying a covered tray in one hand. “You don’t need to ask permission Sansa. Come in.”

“Yet you gave.” She stated and walked inside, jarring the door with her free hand.

He didn’t mean to see, no not at all, yet couldn’t take his eyes away from her when she dipped low and placed the tray on the table in front of him. Her dress slipped too, reveling the cleavage of her breast. Heat rose up in his cheeks and he looked away, she is Rickon’s daughter.

“What’s in that?” he asked trying to not appear weird, he uncovered the tray.

“Lemon cakes! I made them myself with some help of Chad. “ she smiled and picked one, “Now open your mouth.”

Jon did, Sansa fed with him with her own hands. “It’s good. Delicious.” He complimented, licking the crust of her fingers then sat on the bed after taking one more in his hand. Surprisingly Lady Sansa was a good baker too.

“You won’t get them on Wall.” Sansa stated and slowly walked to him. She was in her light blue nightshift, a dress too low and sheer then he had ever seen her in. It was impractical to wear that thing in North, but maybe Sansa did in her chambers, who knew?

What Jon knew was that seeing Sansa like this made his blood run hot. He wanted to touch her soft skin, hold her waist and drown into the blue grey sea of her eyes gazing at him. He wondered if she knew what she was doing by licking and biting those lemon cakes like that, leaning on the bed post letting her dress slip, running her fingers through her long open hairs, all the while looking at him. Little minx she is.

He licked his lips before looking at her face again “What else I won’t get on the Wall?” Jon asked, his voice coming huskier then ever.

Sansa swirled around her hairs dancing with her as she came in front of him and leaned closer and placed one hand on the back of his neck “Me.” She whispered in his ear.

That was all it took to wake the wolf in him. He pushed her down on the bed and claimed her lips with his own, gods be damned. It was her, only her who could make him go wild like this. Sansa grabbed his hairs and arched her back up, taking him just as he was taking her. 

“Don’t leave me, Jon. Stay with me now and forever.” And she wanted him as much as he wanted her. What could be wrong in to desire someone? What could be wrong in to love someone?

They rode together northwards, a stream of water was the only distant between them. Jon and Winter on the west side and Sansa and Rose on the eastern. A heavy silence was set in between them, when she had seen him Sansa had only mounted her mare and started riding slowly. And he knew she expected him follow her, otherwise she could have left going into the forest but she didn’t.

“We need to go home.” Jon spoke, breaking the silence.

“I am sorry. For calling you a bastard.” Her voice was meek, could be hardly heard.

Jonnel laughed “You shouldn’t apologise for saying truth. I was born before my parents were married.” But it didn’t matter much, Lady Alyssane was dead and Lord Cregan Stark soothed himself in Lady Lynara’s arms.

“But they are married now.” She countered and then turned to look at him “You should leave me, Jon. We are done. I am too angry at you, at myself, at father and grandfather, at your mother, at northern lords!” she clutched the reins tighter and halted.

“I am not giving up on you Sansa. I will never do.”

She jerked her head towards him, her lips were quivering “Liar. You! You… stood like an unhatched dragon egg! You said nothing to grandfather and now are stealing my inheritance. Go back Jonnel, be the Lord, rule the North. You will be happy that way.”

Jon scowled and jumped from his horse “A dragon egg? And what should I have said?!” he shouted.

“That Winterfell belongs to Sansa! And why would you? You probably tried to kill me!” She accused once again.

Jon clenched his fist and walked into the river as far as he can “It wasn’t me, I didn’t tried to kill you, whatever pretty stories you have in your head Sansa, I love you! I do and I will. Even when I am rotting in the crypts, it will be you, forever in my heart.” He declared half way into the cold water.

Sansa keenly looked at him, he saw her lips twitching but then she turned her face away riding into the forest as fast as she can. Jon didn’t waited at all and climbed on his own horse, chasing after her.

Jonnel raced after her, surprisingly Sansa was riding much faster than she ever had and better than himself. The forest had started getting clear and the pine trees were being left behind. The vast northern meadows stretched in front of them, the high northern mountains could bee seen kissing the sky leagues away.

The clear blue sky patched with white clouds, fertile lands covered with green grass and a woman with open auburn hairs racing on her black mare with her grey cloak flying around her. It was a beautiful sight, something he would always remember and dream about.

“Sansa! Stop!” Jon called out riding as fast as he can. It was tiring, chasing after her. And he was hungry his Winter had been racing since days with minimal rest. They both were tired and their mates were not.

He was almost near her, could see her hairs shining like copper in the sun. But then Rose halted, her front legs were in the air when the mare cried and fall, Sansa with her. Jon ran to her, jumping from his horse as soon as he found her lying on the ground. He knelt down and took her up in his arms. She was panting, scared and kept looking behind him.

“Are you hurt? Sansa, look at me.” He shook her but a cold metal touched his throat. A blade.

“A pretty pair of Florian and Jonquil isn’t it?” a woman in a ruffed voice said. Her hairs shaggier than a bird’s nest.

“You keep the lad, lass’s mine.” A large man in rugged furs came out, carrying a white longbow. Jon looked down where Rose laid, an arrow pierced her leg. Winter was there too nudging the mare with his head.

“Leave us or you will regret even looking at me.” Sansa snarled as her head shot up to glare at the bearded men.

Another voice, another man but he was younger “This one talks like a wolf. Also kissed by fire. She will give you a tough fight, Bagga.” He hooted.

Sansa shifted next to Jon, still on the ground but her voice was iron “I am a wolf of Winterfell. My grandfather, Lord Stark will have your head for even laying a finger on me.”

“Awoo! Hah this one is the rose of Winterfell, I see why Bael was so charmed by her.” The woman laughed.

Winter Roses, Bael the Bard. Wildlings, south of the Wall. Jon slid his hand to his sword belt while the wildlings were laughing and Sansa glaring at them.

In one motion he took out his longsword, ducked down and cut whoever held the blade to his throat. If it was a mistake he will regret it later, there were seven of them, one down and six to go. But Sansa was here too, who knew no weapon but daggers.

The young one who had hooted came running towards him with a sword. He did no honorable act but fought just as they did, he cut down the man’s hand then the head. A shriek escaped his niece’s throat as the head rolled down to her. Panting he looked at the others, all ready with their weapons to launch at him. Jonnel looked at Sansa, her face frightened and angry at the same time. He passed her a smile then took the stance, taught by his father.

“And who are you? Pretty southern boy?” the large man Bagga asked rolling his large great axe in his hand.

Jon ignoring Sansa’s worry smirked at him “Your bane.”

And perhaps it was foolish, to fight someone much larger than yourself, especially when you’re tired and hungry from days. But Jonnel was also Cregan Stark’s son. As Sansa said, a wolf of Winterfell.

The man ran at him, his axe high in the air as he thrashed it on Jon. He ducked, stepping back and parrying the wildlings every blow with his sword. Moving around, he slashed at other woman’s chest, using her body as a shield for a moment. They came at him together, now that isn’t honorable. At least none of them touched Sansa who was backing away slowly to Winter.

With a cry the big Wilding gave him a kick in the gut sending him flying on the ground. Jon groaned and spit blood from his mouth, when he rose up, every part of his body cried out. He still stood up, supported by his broken sword. But the large men punched him to the ground again, crashing Jon’s body with his weight. Jonnel took out his dirk, thrusting it up at the wildling. The brute caught it in his hands and twisted Jon’s wrist lunging that damned dirk in his right eye.

The pain was unbearable, especially when he took the blade out just in next moment. Jonnel head bumped the wildling, snatched the knife and thrust it up the man’s throat. Kicking his body off himself and sat up, breathing deeply. With clenched jaw he cried out and listened to the howl of wolves before passing out then and there.

Chapter Text

None of it would have happened if I didn’t run.

None of the wildlings could hold her when Sansa ran to Jonnel. An arrow flew, brushing past the side of her waist as she knelt down to Jon, cradling his head in her arms.

“Jon…” she sobbed, looking back. Three of the wildlings were still there, all coming her.

Sansa grabbed the bloody dirk from the large man’s throat. If the wildlings came near her, she will try to fight or rather slit her throat then being captured. Jon’s chest was still rising up and down, his heart still beating. He is alive. He is alive. She would never run away from him.

“Are you gonna fight? Are you- AAAAH!” the white bearded man shouted. Sansa looked back to see a large animal jumping at him tore his arm apart.

A wolf. A large white wolf. And a wolf never hunts alone, eight more emerged from the forest. Rich grey, black and brown furs. They were larger than any wolves Sansa had ever seen.

Gasping Sansa clasped unconscious Jonnel tighter to her and shifted back as the white wolf strolled near them. The wolf bared his teeth covered in blood and snapped at her. I am as brave as you. I am same as you. She didn’t flinch but kept looking in the wolf’s dark eyes. The wolf grinned, —or she imagined he did same as Serena and Edric— and devoured the wildlings body.

A very insane part of her told to left Jon and kill him and herself. It would be better that way, better than get eaten alive by the wolves. She watched in horror as a brown and black wolf lumped at other wildlings, she wanted to close her ears and not listen to their screams. Sansa was sure that soon they will come for her too, perhaps she could run but she didn’t. And the wolves never came for her or Jon or their horses.

Her father, grandfather, Jonnel and his brothers and the whole house guards used to go for hunting in the Wolfswood, nobody took her and she wasn’t even interested in it as Serena and Lyanna were and still are. But Raya used to go for hunting and she taught a few things about starting fire to Sansa, and thanks to her aunt Sansa managed a fire.

She cleared Rose’s wound, it was just a scratch. Blood was oozing out of Jonnel’s right eye, summoning every energy in her she managed to clean it somehow. The gore, the skin, the blood. She placed his head upon her lap and had to tear the remaining eye first then wipe the gore and blood. He did flinched sometimes, his chest rising up and down.

“Please gods, don’t make him blind. Don’t make him lose his sight.” She prayed suppressing a sob by covering her mouth with her hand covered in blood. She hasn’t felt so helpless and angry ever before. Why did he needed to follow me? Why did he have to fight them?

“Sansa.” With closed eyes he groaned and lifted his hand to her cheeks. She sat up straight making him roll off her.

With his fingers he reached for his right eye but there was nothing but blood and whatever that was visible. He slowly opened his other eye, the beautiful grey colour eye which remained. Sansa leaned down looking at him rather closely.

“Can you see me?” she asked waving her hands in front of him.

He caught her hands to still them and looked at her like he really can look at her “Now I can.”

She jerked her hand up and moved to other side of the fire “I can’t do this anymore.” Said Sansa looking into the fire.

Jonnel sat straight to, his arm resting on his knee “What?” he questioned with raised eyebrows. Fire burnt in his remaining eye.

“I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to look at your face or grandfather’s or your mother’s. For better or worse leave me alone Jonnel.” It almost came like a request and she was on verge to beg him to leave her alone.

Jon snapped his head up at her, the way he looked it reminded Sansa of the wolf who had circled her before. He shook his head “Why? You are too proud? You are the only one with honor?! How can you be so blind Sansa!”

“I am not the one blind but you were even with two eyes! You knew nothing Jon! Do you even know what happened when you passed out? Did you even think what could have happened when you killed one of their man?! Why would you? You had a sword, you had a horse you could have ran anytime you wanted!” she freaked out standing up on her place, her hands wrapped around herself.

Jon stood up too, taking long strides towards her “Then I should have probably left you, vile woman! Let those savages ravish you and leave your corpse for the crows! Would have been a favor for father to not deal with you!” he spat.

Her whole body was shaking but she managed to scrunch her nose and with quivering lips shouted “Would have been better Jon! Better them touching me than you! I don’t even care! I don’t want to see you! You ruined everything I could cling too! I did rather run away with the wildlings! Or be a whore in Mole Town than go back with you!” Angry tears streamed down her face, in reality she would rather kill herself.

Sansa crouched down, folded her hands around her self and rocked on the grass. She didn’t closed her mouth or eyes, she let the tears flow and let her sobs be heard. It didn’t take much time for Jon to yank her up. Forcefully.

She whimpered and tried free her wrist from his grasp “I said leave me alone!” angrily hissing at him she punched his chest.

Jonnel grabbed her other arm, stopping her every moment, he leaned closer to her face. She turned away when he breathed in deeply near the crook of her neck. Gooseflesh rose on her skin as his lips touched her ear “Fine, you know what? You did make a good whore. But mine” He snarled and jerked her forward still holding her wrist.

When Sansa looked up at him, the anger flashing on his face and hate in his eye, she felt afraid and disgusted. She tried again to draw her hand back but couldn’t. He was already dragging her into the forest.

“Leave me. Leave me Jon.” She tried very hard to run free but not keeping with him meant being dragged.

“Jonnel unhand me this instant!” she shouted again, dread filling her up. She had no idea what he wanted do to her, she may had but this man wasn’t the Jon she knew.

They had not walked very far into the forest but trees had started getting thick. The moon was shining up in the sky, full moon yet it was dark in here. She almost tripped many a times but he flanked her up every time, making her walk with him.

“Jonnel please! You are hurting me!” she pleaded at last yet it didn’t moved anything in him. Could she believed that she loved that man just a day ago to give up everything for him? Sansa hated Jon now.

He left her with as much force as before making her fall on the ground. Her head hit the a white surface, she could see the blood there as she rose her head. A solemn yet calm white face looked at her, red tears still dripping form eyes. A wierwood tree.

“Who comes before the Old Gods?” he started as Sansa looked at him with wide eyes.

“What the fuck! Stop!” she hissed yet couldn’t move up. Her ankle was strained. And the bones in her hands felt numb.

“Sansa of House Stark, comes to wed. A woman grown and flowered, noble and trueborn. She comes to ask the blessings of the gods. Who comes to take her?” his face was furious. As he looked at her when mentioned her name.

Sansa gave him a an equally hated look “Have you gone mad?!”

Jonnel now took a step forward, his eye still connected with hers “I do. Jonnel of House Stark, heir to the Winterfell. I claim her, who gives her away?”

Sansa’s breathe become ragged, she didn’t wanted to do this, not like this. Wearing a dark teal colored plain dress, with ridding pants and boots underneath, her long braid disheveled, her hands and face covered in blood. Even if she was to marry a wildling she would do it perfectly.

And Jon knew, but they both were too angry and done with each other to fight over that. He looked at the heart tree and recited again “Jonnel Stark of Winterfell. Her father’s half brother. Lady Sansa, do you take this man?”

She could say no, he had no right to give her away or claim her! No matter how bad her grandfather is, it still was his duty to see her wedded and find a far better man then Jon for her. That was the thing about northern weddings, Sansa was in her right to say no but she saw fire in his eyes, passion, desire and hate. Not love but hate. Yes, hate me. Leave me.

Hate reflected in her icy cold eyes and voice too when she turned to look at the face of the old gods “I take this beast of a man to make his life hell.” She muttered and folded her hands in a prayer as Jon knelt next to her.

If this happened with your will, if you wanted this to happen then at least let us find our love again. If there ever was. Let us find our ways to each other even in the darkest of the times and nights. Let me be his, and him be mine. Now and forever. And… I cannot ask you to bless us with children but bless us with trust and love. I don’t want to be grieve for the rest of my life.

When she opened her stinging eyes she caught Jon wiping a tear rolling from his eye. Sansa looked away, sniffing herself she was in no mood to talk to her husband. Jon stood up though and before he could grab her up forcefully she helped herself up through wierwood. He removed his cloak from her shoulders and donned another one of his cloak which he was wearing on her. This one was dark grey and covered with dust and blood.

Turning to him, Sansa did what she should have done a few moments ago. She slapped him hard, straining her wrist for good measure.

Just outside the Last Hearth there were some settlements. Neither Sansa nor Jonnel had energy left to be the courteous guest to the Umbers, they would ask too many questions. About what both of them doing here at this hour? What happened to Jon’s eye? Why are her eyes swollen? Why is she limping? Why do they want to stay same chambers? What will they do with the milk of poppy? Because Lord Umber didn’t knew how to mind his own business.

“Let me get a room for us in that inn.” Jon stated and rode towards the grey colored building. After giving a look to the castle, Sansa had no choice but to follow him.

The innkeeper was asleep. Everyone was except the guards and them. Jonnel had to wake up the poor man from his slumber.

“Do you know the hour! Fools coming at this hour with their whore picked up on road.” The man cursing motioned Jon to follow him. Okay not a poor man, Sansa noticed as he kept cursing them. Many will.

“She is my wife.” Jon stated with an icy tone. When she felt the man’s eyes upon her, even under the hood Sansa looked away.

The room was smelly. And very, very small with one cot and mattress which would not be even sufficient for one person. Atleast there was fire burning in hearth, the first place where Sansa went to sit by. It wasn’t very cold, but colder than she was used too. Winterfell has always been warmer because of the hot springs.

She turned around and watched Jonnel removing his boot and cloak. He hasn’t apologized to her yet, there was nothing to apologise for too. They both were being bitchy to each other. She said some mean things and he returned them. They had not even talked on their way to Last Hearth. Both of them being too proud to appear weak.

Jon was taking his time, siting on the cot removing his jerkin button by button and Sansa wanted to get done with this. Standing up hastily she removed her cloak, unlaced her boots and gathered her dress up to her waist to remove the pants she was wearing. Next was her braid, which she opened, brushed the hairs through her fingers then gathered them up in a high bun. After opening the front buttons of her dress she turned to her husband who was looking at her curiously.

I am brave. I am very brave. Brave like the wolves.

Crouching down in front of him, she put her hands around his neck and leaned in to kiss him. She can’t count on her fingers for how many times she had kissed him before. But then, he was her half uncle, sweet Jonnel who will give her all of his lemon cakes. Now he was her husband, Jonnel with one eye, who dragged her to wierwood in middle of a forest to claim her. And the wedding wasn’t completed yet.

It was a rough kiss, with both of them biting each other, their teeth grazing on their lips. He was pressing her breasts as he pulled her up in his lap and she was pulling his hair. There was nothing gentle in their touch. He grabbed the back of her dress, skillfully opening the hooks on back, Sansa pulled his tunic over his head and stepped back to come out of her own dress.

Her hairs fell open when pushed her on the bed grabbed one of her nipples between his fingers. Playing with it while he kissed the curve of her neck and shoulder. Sansa kept her hands on the back of his neck and entangled her legs with his to remove those damn breaches. A moan escaped her mouth as he bit her again, on her shoulder.

“Jon.” She could feel him against her. His skin and breath and his fingers there. Sansa may had dreamt about it, and she may have dreamt for the same man but in Winterfell they did nothing other than holding hands and stealing kisses in hallways and godswood.

Now here leagues away from their home, in a smelly small inn and on a stunted mattress colder and harder than the Wall, she laid naked below him. Their hands exploring each other in the dark room. More of his than hers, she kept her hands on his bare shoulders as his fingers found their way inside her folds. Going up and down, with full knowledge to how to make her gasp and flush. But he didn’t needed to do that more, Sansa was prepared —already soaking— she opened her legs and looked up at the moss covered ceiling. He did kissed her long and hard before finally entering in her body with ease.

“Sansa, look at me.” He turned her head down, staring in her blue grey eyes. She raised her hand and brushed the hairs above from his right brow and non existing eye.

Whatever her tutors have told about it, this was different. Something else because she felt good as he moved in and out of her. As he picked her thighs in his hands and pulled her closer. As he bent down and she arched up to feel each other more. His whole body flushed and Sansa was sure that she was also as red as her hairs. She touched his arm next to her head when a groan escaped from his mouth. Her other hand down, rubbing on her nub and occasionally bushing on his hairs and skin.

Her body had betrayed her long ago when her brain reminded of what comes after a wedding ceremony. Even if people will call it sham, once they did consummated their marriage two things can happen. First, Lord Stark will accept it, second Lord Stark will send her to Silent Sisters and Jon to Wall. Sansa just wanted see their faces after Jonnel claims her as his wife, what will come first? Anger, disappointment or shame?

The grey walls of Winterfell didn’t felt like home, Sansa felt like a stranger. She really did felt like how Jon’s bride would have felt coming to the place for the first time. She still calmed her nerves down and rode next to him inside the castle.

“SANSA!” Serena as soon as she saw her ran towards her sister. Embracing her tightly, kissing her forehead and smiling brightly with unshed tears in her eyes.

“I am good.” Sansa said running a hand through her little sister’s cheeks. Wiping her tears as her father had done for her.

“Father, Jon said? Are his bones returned?”

“In the crypts.” Serena answered and Sansa left her with a promise to tell about everything. She wanted to pay a visit to him first.

If Rickon Stark had lived a little longer and Cregan Stark a less, there would have been a statue for him, but there wasn’t. Just a tombstone, where Sansa knelt. She sat silent for a very long time and then broke in tears. He was the only men who ever cared for her first. The only one who spoke for her, who knew her, who taught her to be the wolf, to be the ice, to be his child and heir. She clasped a hand on her mouth and bent down to touch stone where he laid.

“I am sorry. I… I tried, I tried very hard but people have no honor, and grandfather is not letting me be his heir. And I did something very stupid to remain here or perhaps two things. But what does it matter? The world will forget about us.” She confessed and bit her lips. When she turned left she could see her father sitting next to her only, whole and unscathed.

“Atleast Dorne is better in that way. A woman can rule in her own right and every man will bow to her. Even the ruling prince’s mother was the ruler not his uncle and his heir is his daughter not the son. Father feared you and he feared Jon. And why not you are cold to Lady Lynara and Edric and Serena are always bickering and out for each other’s blood since they were little babes.” Her father laughed, or rather his ghost laughed.

Hearing his laughter, Sansa was about to cry again but a cold wind flew past her, embracing her “No Sansa. A new bride should have a smile on her face. You should start this with this happiness whatever mess you have gotten yourself in, forget the past and work for a better future.”

Walking back into the main keep Sansa walked to her chambers. She knew that she needed to go to her lord grandfather ask for his forgiveness but she was Sansa Stark of Winterfell and she was too proud to beg anyone of anything. It should be Lord Cregan asking for her to forgive him.

But except the Lord and Lady of the castle she acted way too kinder to everyone else. Wishing servants and maids and guards. Cheering for the little boys training in the yard. Braiding and brushing Serena’s hair in silence even though her sister pondered her with thousands of questions. Sansa was feeling happy until the dinner. Where everyone from their large family would be present.

Sansa dressed in a burgundy colored gown, with her hairs made in a braided crown bun waited in her chambers for her husband. He did said that he will escort her and then confess to his parents for what he has done. Sansa recited what she had to say to appear like that she had no choice and was forced, she also had lines to how to make it appear like that she had no problem and was moved by his bravery from how he saved her from the wildlings and it was her -

“Sansa.” Her name always sounded good from his lips, or rather she loved it how he repeated it like a prayer whenever they coupled.

She rose to feet and walked towards and took his had after a brief good kiss. He held her waist firmly as they walked out. Indifferent to the looks people were giving them Jon leaned in and whispered “You look beautiful and I don’t think it’s the meal served in great hall is I am hungry for.”

She elbowed him gently “Are you afraid?” and he laughed confidently “Not at all my lady. If loving you is a crime then I am happy to be a criminal. And will gladly loose my head for it.”

Perhaps the gods listened to her prayer.

Sansa Stark wasn’t expecting her grandfather to be so thoughtful. Or perhaps old man was raging in fury after Jon’s announcement. Atleast he did that after everyone had eaten the main course so some people —Lady Lynara, Mariah and Serena— in ager will not sleep hungry. But also just before the dessert, Sansa wouldn’t mind if someone missed dessert, that means she gets their lemon cakes and blueberry cream and apple tarts.

“I married Sansa. We got married in front of a heart tree in middle of a forest.” Jon announced and many of the people present dropped their spoons.

Lord Cregan hardly looked up, he nodded and asked “Wedded and bedded?”

Sansa was sure he was asking that so he can know whether the marriage can be put aside in front of the old gods because of incest or to let it remain to save her honor.

“Yes.” Jonnel answered, his leg entwined with her under the table and hand joined over the table.

Her grandfather —also good father— sighed and the snow storm Sansa was waiting for didn’t came “Who gave her away?”

He can also ask me that, Sansa poured herself another cup of wine while Jon answered “I did. As Rickon’s half brother I could.”

It was Mariah, ever her mother’s daughter who slammed her fist on the table “So atleast you remembered that she is your niece and still had no shame?!” she turned to Sansa and the Auburn haired girled tried very hard to disappear then and there. But her aunt’s face softened when she saw her “Were you forced?”

Blushing Sansa nodded and shook her head simultaneously “Just don’t. Please don’t ask about it. I am happy and that’s what should matter.” She and Jon themselves haven’t talked about it, it was something done on a whim and anger. And she had slapped him after it, he had held her hand and kissed it good.

His mother, her good mother, step grandmother Lady Lynara glared at her son, then collected her skirts and left the hall, graciously. Without even saying anything to anyone, Barthogan pointedly followed her out.

Serena though did stood up and looked at Jonnel “Congratulations on your wedding uncle Jon. My new aunt is indeed very beautiful.” She said pressing Sansa’s shoulder and kissing Jon’s cheek. She did walked out of the hall though, following Lady Lynara.

New Aunt , will my sister call me Aunt Sansa now?

 This isn't like necessary to drop in here but I was just using artbreeder (cannot write without knowing how the character looks in my mind and real people don't work for me}

Sansa Stark

Jonnel Stark

Chapter Text

Over the years, her auburn hairs had started turning grey, cheeks gaunt and a few fine lines appearing near her eyes. Jon says that she still looks beautiful and perhaps because of pride she would not discard his word. Wrapping a very warm cloak around her Sansa left her rooms, the one which she shared with her husband.

Nothing and everything had changed in Winterfell, since last two decades she has been the Lady Stark of Winterfell, managing her home, looking after the people of North doing her every duty except one. She has been foolish then, but now her heart also ached for that joy. The joy to hold her own children, feed them and sing songs to them.

She remembered the night Jon even asked her if she was infertile? Sansa asked him what if he was? That they can try whose problem it was by lying with other people. He never called her that again. Too ashamed or angry she didn’t knew.

Standing on the bridge Sansa watched the Lord of Winterfell Jonnel ‘One Eye’ Stark sparring with his little eight year old nephew. Cregard was small and Jon almost a giant in front of him, yet the boy kept hitting on his legs. She was sure that as he grew ups, he would be as good as his grandfather or great grandfather. Her heart warmed as Jon picked him up laughingly. He could have been ours.

Serena and Edric will always insist that they can take the little monsters, their blood being same as of Sansa and Jon’s. And they have, Edric and Cregard are Jon’s heirs anyways. But Sansa liked Torrhen best, the cute little boy fond of lemon cakes and songs just like her. And also sick just like her.

Every muscle and bone in her body hurt as she descended down from the stairs. Shivering she wrapped the cloak tighter and went on her ways towards the kitchen, suppressing several coughs on her way. She cannot appear weak in front of her people, in front of her family. She is still her father’s daughter, Jonnel’s wife, lady of this castle. Sansa was almost out of breath when she reached the kitchen and sat down on the first seat she found.

“My lady, you shouldn’t be here. The maester-” a kitchen maid started as soon as she saw her.

Sansa raised her hand, still panting and looked up at the maid with a look equally measured with hope and demand “There was cake in the breakfast. But it didn’t reached to me and Torrhen. And I haven’t had cake in ages! And I want it! I came here all the way!” she demanded, probably like she used to do like a child.

The maid nodded “I will have it delivered to your and lord Torrhen’s chambers my lady. But please m’lady return to your chambers, Lord Stark wants you to rest.” She requested and soon another one came with a tray of cakes. Torrhen will like it.

Sansa again with big eyes looked at her and pouted “Lord Stark keeps me lock in those chambers! Who locks their own wife?!”

“You are ill. You should rest, you always do so much for us, for North. We all want you to get well.” The maid reassured and Sansa thought she may touch her but because of her status she didn’t.

I am not getting well. I wasn’t yesterday, I am not today, I won’t be tomorrow.

But there was sincerity in her tone that made Sansa agree. She slipped to the family wing before Jonnel could notice her, he will indeed get angry with her for behaving like a child. She stopped once in front of Torrhen’s chambers, his sister Arrana was there too, siting on a chair nearby her brother’s bed while he read story. Arrana wore the direwolf pendant now.

“Aunt Sansa!” the girls squealed as soon as she saw her and ran too her.

Sansa slowly and carefully crouched down and pressed a kiss on little girl’s head. She looked over to Torrhen who was also attempting to get out of his bed but she moved inside instead and sat on the bed with Arrana next to her. She wished she could take her on her lap but she was too weak for that.

“You bought our cakes! Thank you aunty!” Torrhen clapped his hand and ate a piece before offering her one.

“I don’t want to, Arry can eat mine.” She fed the little girl with her own hands. Sansa loved spending her time with children. They were always so pure and so good.

“Wont you sing a song for us?” Arrana asked “I am rather bored with his boring stories!” she made a face gesturing to her brother.

The lady of Winterfell touched her throat, it was sore and her coughs had been violent but that isn’t going to stop her from singing is it? She can sing slowly, peacefully, carefully. Sweetly.

“Freeze my heart,

And cease my soul.

Through our art

You make me whole.

For all I know

The loves never gone.

In the snow-”

Sansa started coughing. She pulled her cloak to cover her mouth and left the children, going for her chambers. She sat on her bed and picked up a glass of water. It tasted like blood, there was blood on the glass, blood on her hand and blood on the cloak she covered her mouth from.

From running away from you to running away to you. Please never let me go. The words she has been hearing in her dream, and Sansa was sure it was her whispering them to Jonnel while he hugged her as if his life depends upon it. But he was… he had his both eyes and her eyes were bright blue.

“Jon. Come to me.” Under the heavy fur covers she murmured rocking on the bed, tears streaming from her face and her throat aching. There was no one in her room, and it was dark, very dark. Sansa wanted to call for Jon, to call for Serena, to call for Edric, even Barthogan! But she couldn’t. Even taking breathe felt heavy to her.

When it started feeling more cold and more dark, Sansa threw her covers and tried to walk out of her chamber supported by the furniture available. It was dark and cold in her rooms she didn’t wanted to be there. She wanted to be with her family, she wanted to visit Lonny, Roddy and Beron who called her grandmother. She wanted to visit the hot spring and spend her nights there with Jon like they used to do, she wanted to visit to the Godswood and pray for her family. She wanted to be strong and make it through for more years.

Sansa slowly reached out and looked outside where the blue sky was covered thick with clouds. Perhaps it will snow. I haven’t seen snow since years. It will be sweet, to sit in Godswood while the snow fall all around. She coughed again, blood coming out from her mouth but she didn’t wanted to go back and rest. She wanted see the Heart tree and she wanted to build snow castles. So slowly supported by the wall Sansa descended from the stairs.

She was almost down and could see the snow falling around but her feet have gotten heavy, ragged breathe and eyes blur. But Jon was in front of her, his arms around her and he was scared? Scared to see her? Sansa could almost laugh but she wanted to visit godswood and see the snow.

“Sansa, what are you doing here?” he asked gently stroking her hairs.

She smiled up at him, he had grown so big like father and grandfather “It’s snowing, Jon. And I wanted to pray. The Godswood.” She replied looking into his eye. She also wanted to kiss him. Tell him that she is fine.

He did though, he kissed her “You need rest. I will take you too godswood soon, I promise.” He whispered resting his forehead on hers and settling her on his lap as he sat down in the stairs.

Her lips were quivering and unshed tears collected in her eyes, she didn’t knew when the soon will come. But she did rather be with him than be alone. Sansa threw her arms around him and leaned closer to kiss the tears shedding from his eyes. He was holding on her tight as if she would turn to dust and leave him.

She looked at the snow dropping from the sky and then her Jon’s face, his eye red and face somber. Something changed in him as he turned around “Call the maester! Someone call the fucking maester!” He shouted still holding her tight, his voice breaking at last. “I will not let anything happen to you.”

“Jonnel…Jon.” She said rasping, holding his face between her hands and closing her eyes “I am not leaving you. Not now, not ever. In this life and another and thousands of other I will find you. We will find each other.” She leaned her forehead on his, their breathes mixing together.

“You are not, Sansa. Please. You are not going anywhere. You are not leaving me alone!” he cried, holding onto her. She had never seen him this broken, not even when his parents died.

 Sansa still looking at him, dropped her head on his chest, listening to his heart, smelling his smell and looking at his face until her eyes dropped, and breathing slowed “When I open my eyes again, you will be looking at me and I will be looking at you Jon.”

But she didn’t open her eyes for him, even when he shook her and slapped her and cried out. His brothers had found him sitting on the stairs with Sansa in his arms, his face buried in her hairs. His chest rising up and down as he clutched her tightly to himself.

“Jon, brother.” Edric tried, squeezing his brother’s shoulder he stepped back clasping a hand on his mouth. Serena bit her lips and turned her face in his chest while Jon rose carrying Sansa in his arms, walking upstairs back to their chambers. Both of them dead.

Jonnel had loved her, loved Sansa more than anything. And to see them like this… it broke everyone in Winterfell.

It has been just him and Robb. As far as Jon knew Robb was the only sibling he had. The only little babes of Winterfell but from yesterday their father had been very happy. Neither Robb nor he could understand why Robb’s mother had became large and then one day got sick. And yesterday their father told them that they have a sister now!

“But where did she came from?” confused Robb asked peering inside the crib.

“Your sister. She came from the gods.” Father answered but Robb always wanted know everything.

“Where your sister is? Did she sent her?”

And father didn’t answered but just nodded and came to stand next to Jon.

Jon touched her cheeks again and again, she was very soft. And then she opened her eyes. Blue eyes like Robb’s! “She is not my sister!” he exclaimed turning to his father and Robb. “She looks like you! She is yours!” he said pointing at Robb who gave him a large smile hustling over the babe.

And the little boys and little babe curiously looking around never understood why their father tensed and then laughed.

Sansa never knew when it truly started. She was doing her best to be Alayne Stone. To be Lord Petyr Baelish’s natural born daughter. But that was in the day, at night ghosts appeared in front of her, Lady, Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, her parents and Jeyne. And sometimes the dreams gave her all she needed and ever wanted now.

When she walked among the walls of Winterfell, Sansa wished to sea the ghosts. To see her family again. She remembered going to bed and then waking up in the crypts. Lighting the candles around the kings and lords who lived centuries ago. Her hairs were longer and auburn, just like her mother’s and Robb’s. It felt warmer, and strange. Walking up the upper levels Sansa thought she would see her family buried in there, perhaps she can bring them flowers but there was no Lord Eddard Stark, no Lady Catelyn Stark, no King Robb Stark, no Princess Arya, no Prince Brandon and Rickon… there bodies have not even returned yet, dismembered thrown into a river, flayed and burnt.

Crying Sansa ran, she didn’t knew where but she did. The crypts were big but she found her way out, she knew her way out. It was dark outside, the sun was setting and the torches were being lighten. She looked around searching for familiar face and found no one she knew, but they knew her, bowing down as she walked by sniffing and wiping her tears.

The Godswood remain the only place same, silent and ancient. No laughing or worried faces, only the face of Old Gods in the wierwood tree. She could have cried the tears of joy when she found the heart tree. Father used to worship here, with Robb and Jon. Sansa used to come too, trailing behind them as a little child. But she felt grown now, grown up and tired.

She knelt down and joined her hands, praying for home, praying for family, praying for safety, praying for…love. She can still hope, they haven’t broken her yet. I have turned to steel. There was rustling which made her open her eyes and look around. A man sat next to her. His hands joint together near his heart, eyes closed and lips murmuring a prayer. Sansa wanted to stand up and walk out but it felt warm here, and familiar. She didn’t knew who this man was, yet she felt like she knew.

“Stop ogling me Sansa.” He laughed and her heart may have stopped. How did he even knew her name?

Sansa raised her chin high and turned to the Heart Tree “I am not ogling you.” She defended.

“Seriously, I don’t mind. I quiet enjoy my lady wife looking at me like that.” His voice was thick and warm. Sansa knew she had heard it before in Winterfell.

“lady wife?” she questioned looking at the man now. He was tall, shorter than the Hound but taller than her father. Sansa noticed how he had just one eye, which was grey like her father’s, Arya’s and Jon’s. His brown hairs were dark though almost black, curly set on his shoulders. And an inviting smile. She didn’t wanted run away from him.

He walked towards her and helped her in standing up, his arms around her back rested on her hips and she put her hands on his shoulders “Yes, you are still little Sansa who grew up with me. But if I thought of your father then believe me I won’t be to do this.” He whispered and Sansa found herself being drowned in his voice.

“What?” she whispered to, not knowing why. He curled few strands of her hair around his finger, trailing that finger down from her ear to neck to breasts to stomach and there! At least she still was wearing a dress. She was pushed back and down against the tree but no bad feeling came from this, Sansa found herself at ease, bliss and peace. He kissed her and his kiss was warm like the snow… her grey skirts were lifted high and he kept them up there with his hot hands on her thighs and his face between her legs.

She moaned, low sounds of pleasure escaping her mouth as she anticipated for more of his touch, to feel him on herself and something kept screaming in her mind how wrong it was and how lewd she was behaving. But he called her wife, so it wasn’t wrong… but wasn’t she married to someone else? Sansa touched his face and his hairs to know that he wasn’t the husband she have or was forced to marry. He was… familiar, strong and someone she knew. Someone who cared for her.

In the night she often wondered in the crypts. Between her dead ancestors and family. And she would tell her that it was her home. That she was in Winterfell. Today she went out and there were so many people, it almost felt like as everything was same as it was before she left her home. And everyone called her ‘my lady’ and bowed to her as she walked around searching for someone she knew, someone she could feel safe with. Who called her lady wife…

“Sansa.” She missed but a man held her hand, turned her around and kissed her. And she didn’t wanted to leave his embrace because that’s want she was searching for, home, love and safety. Things which she hasn’t felt since her father died.

She looked up at his long face and soft grey eye. Dark brown hair and beard. Sansa caressed his cheek, her arm around his neck while he held her waist. She knew this man, he was her husband, he was her best confidant, he was her family, he was her half… brother “Jon.”

Startled Sansa woke up panting. She knew she wasn’t in Winterfell, she wasn’t in North, she wasn’t a grown woman and Jon wasn’t here. The only person of her family who remains, whom she can call hers. He will protect her, because who else will? He is my brother, half brother. And we were in Winterfell… and he… Her cheeks felt hot as she imagined him once again. It was wrong, she was here in Gulltown being Alayne Stone and Jon was at Wall a brother of Night’s Watch. And she can go to him.

Standing up from her bed she looked down the window. It was the full moon outside and many less people wandered in night. But it didn’t mattered to a wolf, her pack wasn’t gone yet. She is not alone in this world, there is someone, someone who will protect her, someone she can still look upto. So, that is what all it took to make Sansa open her door, putting a hand on her heart she moved out.

I am Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell, and I am as strong as the wolves. Sansa was light on her feet and very, very careful. Lord Baelish was well known in the city of Gulltown. If anyone caught her it would mean her death. But death would be kinder, if that was denied then Sansa was ready to jump from the moon door.

Petyr wasn’t her family, no matter what he says he isn’t of her pack. With Lady Lysa dead there was no one in Vale for her, perhaps her uncle in Riverrun but he was a captive. Sansa wasn’t planning to see any golden lions soon she would rather kill herself.

She was surprised that no one came after her, that no one dragged her back to the keep and handed her over to Lord Baelish. It was selfish of her perhaps to run like thieves in the night from him when he was the one to rescue her from King’s Landing. Framing me guilty for Joffrey’s death. Making them hunt me so that no one could save me but him.

There were ships in harbor, not many but a few on which people were loading and unloading things. Sansa at least have some money and jewelry enough to buy her a passage away from here. Away from people who want nothing but Winterfell and North through her. Quickly walking around the harbor Sansa decided to approach one where she spotted a tall woman with teak skin and white hairs.

“Where is this ship headed to?” Sansa asked the tall woman, who appeared to be studying a map.

When the woman turned to her, Sansa clutched the hood of her cloak tighter, not daring to reveal her face until they have left Vale. “White Harbor then Bravos then back home to Tall Tree Town. Ten Silver Stags for North, twenty for Essos, Ten golden dragons for Summer Islands.” The dark lady answered as in a bored and repetitive manner.

“Here” Sansa handed her the ten silver coins and boarded atop the ship. It was good to be here. It felt good when the ship started sailing in the Narrow Sea towards the Shivering Sea, towards North, towards home, towards him…

Will he help me? Will he welcome me? Will he remember me? He was never closer to me but everyone else. Will he wish that it was Arya? What if he isn’t even that Jon? But still she knew one thing, and that was he will protect her. As he always has. And if he sent her away then she will come back, again to him because where else she would go?

And now my watch begins, it shall not end until my death. They killed him, assassinated him because he choose to abandon his post. But is he dead now? Like a wight but risen from fire and not ice? Does that make any difference? He was dead and now alive. Lived and survived as a wolf for what he didn’t knew. You know nothing Jon Snow.

Perhaps he will knew, if he found her again. She was pretty and comely, with sharp cheekbones and a long face, icy blue eyes and aye kissed by fire. They were in Winterfell. People called them Lord and Lady Stark, she sang sad and beautiful songs while brushing her long hairs, most of all he knew her like he had known how to breathe. It would have been easier if that was Ygritte, she almost was but that lady was more calm, more regal, more loving, more sweet, a highborn woman not a spearwife.

No, she was his lady wife who snuggled close to him every night. Who gripped his long hairs while he held her hips when she moved on him, calling his name like a prayer. And the name he could say was what panicked him most “Sansa.”

She is my half sister, yet it didn’t feel wrong. Didn’t feel what they call it.

“Sansa…. Where are you?” Jon hasn’t thought of her since a long time. Last he heard, the Lannisters had married her to the Imp but Sansa had run away after killing the bastard king Joffrey. That was something Arya would have done, Sansa was gentle but what she endured in that place alone while they killed her family can change anyone.

Jon walked towards the stables and had one horse out and saddled. He had tired to abandon his post before for Arya, to save her and now the girl was here at the Wall. Jeyne Poole, Jon knew her and he knew that what happened to her was horrible and she deserves justice. Justice he will bring to her. But what if somewhere same happened to Arya, to Sansa… he clutched the rein tighter and rode forward out of the Castle Black.

Sansa knew no one in this city yet it felt like she knew White Harbor well, that she had came here before. Sansa thought of going to the New Castle but House Manderly have declared for Tommen Baratheon and Roose Bolton. She would rather die freezing on the road.

There were talks all around the North, things she didn’t heard in Eyrie, about Lord Eddard’s youngest daughter forcefully wed to Bolton’s bastard, about King Stannis Baratheon attacking the Bolton’s in Winterfell, about Ironborn who fled to North surrendering to King Stannis, about a Targaryen king marching towards King’s Landing after conquering Stormsland, half of the Reach and Crownlands, about the Redwyne fleet being defeated near the Arbor by Ironborn and their new king, about thousands of wildlings living in the Gift and New Gift by the grace of new Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch who also supported King Stannis.

“Be careful on the way, the North is not how it used to be. There are no Starks in Winterfell anymore to protect the North.” The kind old man told her when she bought a horse from him.

There will be soon, I am a Stark and Jon is a Stark. We will be home. She wanted to say but couldn’t risk anyone finding out who she was or where she was going. When someone asked where, she had a answer ‘to Mole Town to my husband, my father and brother died at the Twins.’ It was easy, a truth people believed without thinking who she could be.

Sansa was glad that the horse didn’t threw her away, it was a kind mare and Sansa not as good as Arya or her brothers, but she could ride when needed. Coming North her dreams have gotten more real feeling like she lived them, leaving her yearning for those moments she saw in them, for Winterfell, for family, for safety, for him.

Was it wrong? Sansa didn’t knew, if it was wrong then so was kinslaying, so was butchering guests in your halls, so was slavery and many other things! And she only wants to feel safe, only wants to go home, only wants to be with her real family. And Jon was all those things, she had hoped Robb will save her but he was murdered, she lost her hope then but not herself. Bastard or not Jon was also her father’s son and she knew dreams or not he was the only one who was left to her. And everyone else had loved him, trusted him, she can too. The woman in her dreams, Lady Stark of Winterfell did.

It snowed heavily on the way and she was reminded of her words Winter is Coming, and this is true Winter, feet of deep snow everywhere, hunger and famine, cold enough to freeze the blood, unpredictable storms. And there was a beauty in all of that, an enchantment which made her feel strong. The taste of snow made her feel strong, the smell of pines made her strong, the cold winds blowing around her made her feel strong. And the wolves will endure this winter like they have done from thousands of years.

Skillfully avoiding the Kingsroad and riding not far away from the White Knife, taking shelter and food from the villages that came on the road, paying and working for whatever she took. It came easily to her, as if she had known these people, people who were better than nobles of South. But not everyone had food, or warm clothes and all they said was ‘things would have been better if there was no war just before the winter, if there were Starks ruling in the North.’

There would have been no war if I hadn’t been a foolish child. If Joffrey had let father live, if Robb had been able to come back, there would have been Starks in Winterfell if Theon hasn’t betrayed us, if Jon hasn’t joined the Night’s Watch.

“Last Hearth is three day away from here, if you take that route you’d reach faster but be careful wolves lurking in the forest and wildlings in the Gift.” The woman informed.

“Is… is lord Umber in the castle?” Sansa asked hopefully, they said in White Harbor that he came home and that he was King Robb’s right hand man. Perhaps they will help her to reach Wall and Jon.

“Nay, went to the Wall, every Lords going to the Wall who came from South even from marshes and mountains to young Lord Commander Snow.” The woman’s husband answered as he came back inside the home.

Sansa took a sip of warm water then shot her head up “Young Lord Commander Snow?”

The man turned at her and Sansa bowed her head, covering her hairs under the hood of her cloak, “King Robb’s bastard half brother. They say the king made him his heir, with Lord Ned’s other sons dead and daughters married to the traitors, he gets the North. No one follows a woman.” He explained.

“With your father dead, Jonnel should succeed me as the Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North.”

“They would have never followed a woman.”

“You should have said something! That Winterfell belongs to Sansa!”

“He is dead, and you became Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell, as you were born for. Even though you had to sleep with his son.”

“He shares blood with you, you will have to pay a great price to get him. Oh, yes, he is there entangled with you in this life and another, either forty days or a hundred years after this life, he will be yours. But are you already to burn for him? To die for him? To live for him? Are you willing to give anything for him?”

“He will be your brother and you will still succumb to the wills of fate. A life of love and hope is better than a life of desperation and sadness, believe me there is a great deal of grief written for you.”

“In this life and another and thousands of other I will find you. We will find each other.”

The sun was about to set, yet Sansa rode out of the village. To numb to feel the heavy snow falling around her, to shocked to hear the wolves howling in distance. Robb made Jon his heir when I was alive, Arya was alive, he passed over us and named Jon his heir and it has happened before. How could I have forgotten, we had same name, Lady Sansa Stark, daughter of Rickon Stark and wife of Lord Jonnel Stark. He would have looked like Jon, with both eyes.

Sansa turned the mare towards North, few more and she will be at the Wall. Exhaling a breathe out and with a smile on her lips Sansa rode forward, towards the north, drinking the wild beauty of her lands around her.

“I am the North and North is me.” She whispered to herself, smiling.

If Jon had known that he won’t be able to find his way back to Castle Black after riding out, he would have told someone to look for him. And no doubt they must be searching for him, he was needed at the Wall for whatever reason every northern lord came there. But something called him out, called him to ride out. And then there were those damn dreams he had been seeing since he came back.

The girl with long red hairs singing and dancing in the halls of Winterfell like a ghost. Praying and making love in the godswood with him. And Jon felt complete with her in a way he hasn’t felt with anyone else. He wanted to stay with her, hold her close and never let her go. But he wakes up every morning and then remembers her name ‘Sansa’.

Why isn’t it Robb? She almost was how Robb would have been if he had been a girl. And alive. He would have been alive if he was born a girl. But he wasn’t. His brother was dead, his body lying in bottom of some river in the Riverlands when he should rest in the crypts as the King of Winter. Sansa is alive, in his heart he knew Sansa was alive somewhere and that she will come back… to him. Perhaps it was his bastard nature or the fact he was reborn and his morals died with him that he was desiring for his half-sister. Beautiful Sansa dancing in the halls of Winterfell as a ghost. Maybe I will die with her and we will haunt Winterfell together.

Kicking the horse he rode towards east, it was getting dark and the snow was falling from the sky. He needed to find a shelter and the cabin in the edge of the forest looked good enough. After two knocks on the wooden gate, it creaked open, an old woman with brown skin as of a tree bark answered the knock. Her hairs were red too and eyes green.

“I am Lord Commander Jon Snow. I have gotten a little lost, can I stay in for a night?”

The woman gave him and his robes a skeptical look, then nodded stepping inside leaving her gate opened. Even with the snow falling outside, the cabin was very warm. And there was no hearth in it. Jon noticed as he stood near the door observing everything, a bird nest with a blue bird chirping in it on top of a wooden shelve, fresh winter roses framing the window, fireflies buzzing from the jar they kept in.

“Here. Though it matters less after they killed our king.’’ The woman said as she gave a loft of bread and warm milk, performing the guest right.

“It matters because we are not as low as them. And King Robb’s murder will be avenged.” Jon promised, he will march to the Twins and shatter those cursed towers to dust along with the weasels in it.

Turning back the woman passed him a small smile “You love your brother very much. And died for your sister. What about the other one? The one kissed by fire? Do you love her that much?” she asked, as if she knew.

Jon was stunned, his hand almost reached to the pommel of Longclaw. How can a woman living in middle of nowhere can know? How and why? He didn’t knew whether he loved her, he didn’t knew where she was, how she was? Whatever the cruel trick the gods are playing it’s not even necessary that the woman in his dreams was the same Sansa. And yet he rode out to find her.

When Jon didn’t answered the old woman she shrugged and moved around pouring something from one pot to another “Strange. You think your half brother died and half sister survived. Not your fault.” She stated making Jon more confused.

“Is she… is she dead?” he asked, too afraid to know the answer.

“The girl you are seeking is not. She suffered a lot, she endured and survived. Poor soul, keep her safe and loved when you find her. She risked a lot to get you, you know? Don’t turn away from her like last time.” The woman advised, her skin shining through the candle light.

Jon stood up, done with the woman’s babbling. Her talks made sense and no sense at the same time, off course she endured but Sansa wasn’t close to him, they both were indifferent to each other at worst. At best they used to play together when they were little and she wasn’t aspiring to be a southern lady of some great castle. And how did her dreams turned out? How did his dreams turned out? They both lost everyone but themselves.

A sweet smell of roses filled the room as the candles burnt around, giving a faint glow of pink and yellow inside the house. It was enchanting like the Wall but Jon was focused on the old woman who sat on the chair licking a weird red paste from a bowl of leaves

"What last time?” Jon questioned.

Her smile, her smile was too much like the Red Woman, Lady Melisandre. As if she possessed a gift of knowledge, an art of magic, a promise of future and past. “A promise, thousands of year old promise. The song. Hundred years after, you will not be able to let her go. It will freeze and burn you at the same time.”

Jon shook his head, no matter how good it felt in his dreams, and how much he wanted all of that Sansa is Lord Eddard’s daughter. “She is my sister, my father’s trueborn daughter. Everything is just wrong with me.”

The woman laughed throwing her head back, her red hairs touching the ground “Prince Aemon the Dragon Knight and his sister Queen Naerys and Lord Jonnel Stark and his half niece Lady Sansa Stark. They all lived during same time. World remember the one who accepted its rules and the fate, not the one who fought the world and its rules. And changed the fate. I remember people whispered that gods ridiculed them and cursed their union, stupid people not knowing they were blessed."

“We will find each other.” And he couldn’t trust her, he couldn’t lose her.

“When I open my eyes again, you will be looking at me and I will be looking at you Jon.” So please do, open your eyes and live with me a little longer.

His head hurt, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes what all he could see was clear blue sky patched with white clouds, fertile lands covered with green grass and a woman with open auburn hairs racing on her black mare with her grey cloak flying around her.

The overwhelming smell of winter roses filling capturing Jon's senses and the women of his dreams dying in his arms "Oh. Sansa."

Sansa had been smart or she thought when she took a shelter under a wierwood. It was good to see those again, white trees with red leaves and their faces of gods watching over her. She felt safe and warm whole night. Or maybe it was because something heavy was covering her from over the blanket.

Supporting herself from the tree on her back Sansa perched up. Her hands ran through the white fur over her blanket and a face same as same as of Old Gods watched her. Lady could have grown this large…

“Ghost?” Sansa smiled and with a cry hugged the wolf. It has been so long, so long since she saw a direwolf and Ghost was Lady’s littermate. The direwolf nudged her shoulders and licked her face, his tail wagging in excitement as Sansa held his face. I am safe now.

“Is Jon here?” she asked looking up and turning her face around. But there was no one, only her, Ghost and the mare. She will not let herself be disappointed though, if Ghost is there then she will reach to Jon faster.

Ghost looked turned away and brushed of the snow collected on his fur. Sansa wondered if he had been there whole night, keeping her warm and sheltering her from the snow. It warmed her heart to think so, he is such a good boy. And he found her!

“Lets find Jon shall we?” Sansa climbed her horse and smiled at Ghost, ready as if he knew where to go.

A better part of her day was gone chasing after the wolf, Sansa wasn’t even sure why Ghost entered the forest, surely Jon wouldn’t be in a forest but at Castle Black. Even tired Sansa still followed him, atleast with him she was little safe then she was on her own. And people knew that Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch have a giant direwolf, even the wildlings.

The forest was better though, tall pine trees covered with snow which shimmered in the sunlight, frozen mist on the ground which crackled as the horse ride through it. She could hear the birds and insects tapping on the wood, small animals like a hare who glanced at Ghost from behind a tree then sprinted away for its life. She could also hear the running water as if there was a river nearby. Perhaps there was, because Sansa felt a familiarity in the woods. As if she had came here before, as if she knew the river which flowed in front of her and the wierwood tree with large canopy.

“Ghost, stop.” Halting, she dismounted near the tree. Ghost stopped too, just in front of the frozen river watching towards the western side.

The face on the wierwood was different then it’s in Winterfell, it’s eyes were closed and calm smile carved on its face. Like father, my father. Sansa knelt in front of it, joined her hands and closed her eyes for a prayer.

If I am wrong then punish me, they took everyone and now I clinging to the one who remains. I remember him, as my brother and as who he was to me before. Not fully, no but I loved him. You know I did, otherwise I wouldn’t have made it here, would have never left Eyrie and married once again to someone else. Keep him safe, keep Arya safe, the people who are fighting for Winterfell keep them safe. And Jon-

“Sansa.” Her heart almost stopped, it was his voice. The voice which haunted her dreams, called her name like it was the most beautiful thing.

Her head shot up, eyes wide as she looked on her left. As befitting for a man of Night’s Watch, Jon stood there all clad in black, his face bewildered and delighted. His breathe rising at fog, brown hairs tied back, and a short unshaved beard framing his face. Clasping a hand on her mouth Sansa stood up, her own heart beating faster then usual.

Jon didn’t stopped though, he rode forward as fast as one can, crossing the river atop his horse and halting in front of her. Closing her eyes Sansa stepped back, tears falling from her eyes still believing it is a dream, a dream too beautiful to come true. Dropping on her knees, Sansa cried, her sobs filling the silence around them. After suffering too much, doing too much, lying and running away, it felt too good to be real, too much like a song she didn’t deserved.

But Jon was real, standing in front of her, his own eyes containing unshed tears. He had lost her, so many years ago and now she was back again, at the same place with the same face. His lips quivered and hands were shaking as he moved towards her. Standing at her back, he put his one hand on the tree and other wiping the tears which fell from his eyes, swallowing, he himself crouched down next to her.

A sob escaped her mouth as she turned back, throwing her arms around his neck. Jon held her tightly as if she would go away, never, never, never until my death “From running away from you to running away to you. Please never let me go.” Sansa whispered.

“I won’t. I won’t. I promise.” He breathed, holding her close.