Chapter Text
‘I have crossed oceans of time to find you.’
-Bram Stoker’s Dracula
‘Hope is a waking dream.’
-Aristotle
Second Chances and the Search for Lost Love
Sansa gasped and opened her eyes where she lay beside the Weirwood. Bran was lying beside her and holding her hand while his other still held onto the tree.
“Bran?”
“Sansa,” he said calmly as he opened his eyes. “It’s quiet.”
What did that mean exactly? The crows were cawing but grew quieter when Bran sat up. No one was here waiting on them. There was no blood on the ground, no evidence of a fire.
Did it ever happen?
No…he never existed as a vampire. It never happened.
She felt hollow inside and wanted to lie down. Instead, they helped each other to their feet. Bran was staring at the crows above them. They were still quiet but their beady eyes were watching them both. She remembered how Bran had been before, how his strange abilities had bothered him these past few months.
“Bran…how do you feel?”
He smiled, a sweet, boyish smile that made her heart ache. “I feel like there’s not enough weed in Westeros to make me forget what we’ve just seen.” She laughed and nodded. “But Sansa…I think I’ll be better now. Thank you for…”
“No, Bran. Thank you.” He looked at her curiously. “What?”
“The necklace.” Sansa took it off. The light had completely left the ruby. It was only a common jewel now, though enormous and worth thousands of dragons no doubt. “Do you think she’s gone?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’ll keep it for her though,” Sansa said, tucking it into the pocket of her cloak. “I need to change,” she said looking down at the dress with a sigh. She could almost smell the smoke and pine scent of Jon, of the Jon from long ago on it from when he’d held her, when he’d kissed her in the tent. It hadn’t felt quite right though. That Jon belonged to Old Me. “And I suppose it’s time to see what’s happening in our world.”
“Yeah, we should hike back…” Bran stopped speaking and his mouth fell open.
Sansa turned around and saw it. A large looming shape further away above the trees…and grey walls.
“The castle!”
All her life, for a thousand years some said, it had been a ruin, just stones upon the ground but now, it was whole. As she and Bran ran through the gates, they saw a parking lot and a ticket booth.
“Hey, you two!” a portly security guard said, huffing towards them. “We’re closing in ten minutes! You’ll have to take your tour tomorrow!”
He wore a uniform that read ‘Winterfell Castle Security.’
“It’s alright, Tom,” a voice called. “Don’t you know the Stark kids when you see them? This was their place.”
“Forgive me, children. It’s been awhile since you visited us here,” the guard said.
But Sansa and Bran only had eyes for the other man.
“Theon?!” Sansa cried.
It was him. Tanned and dressed in a suit, but still Theon Greyjoy with his easy smile. He looked happier than the vampire she had known.
“Oh, so you do remember me, eh? When’s the last time I laid eyes on you, college girl?” he said, pulling her into a hug. “Robb never shuts up about you, you know? It’s annoying as fuck. What’s with the costume though? Halloween is months away. Don’t tell me you’re doing LARP because I’ll know I’m dreaming.”
“I, uh…had a thing for class,” she said lamely.
Theon took her at her word and turned to Bran. “And you…have you been out here smoking weed with Jojen again? I get tired of lying on your behalf.”
“I, uh…yeah,” Bran laughed.
“What are you doing here?” Sansa asked.
“I work here…duh,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“Here?”
“Gods, at the castle! You been smoking with Bran?” S
he shook her head and acted like she’d had a momentary brain fart. The biggest brain fart ever!
“Hey, we got something new today that’s going to be unveiled to the public tomorrow. Wanna see? Come on. I figure you’ve not taken the tour since you were little. I’ll give you a quick refresher.”
They followed him inside to the great hall. Sansa had seen it earlier when her former self had saved a one-eyed soldier there. But it was different now of course. Everything had been restored that could be but sheetrock covered sections of the stone walls, painted grey. And the room was climate controlled. The fire place didn’t roar with a fire and the place no longer smelled of smoke and roasted meat. It smelled like a museum. The old banners of the Northern Houses hung from the rafters above them.
A painting was displayed behind the dais. Clearly, it was a focal point of the room. It was one she’d seen a copy of in Art History several months ago.
“The Last Hero,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” Theon said. “This is what I was talking about. It’s my favorite painting. The King in the North fighting the Others and destroying the Night King. It was discovered in the crypts here ages ago. They had to send it to Old Town for restoration work but it’s come back home at last.”
Sansa approached the painting, wanting to touch the figure holding his sword, readying to strike the killing blow.
“Don’t touch it!” Theon shouted. “That thing’s over 900 years old!”
“I know,” she said, quickly drawing back her hand.
“Sheesh, Sansa. I though Rickon was here for a sec,” Theon joked. “Come on and I’ll show you a bit more.”
Theon led them through the kitchens and the library. At last, he took them to the lord’s chamber. It was the only bedroom that was open for viewing. It was decorated much as it might have been a thousand years earlier. But Sansa could see slight differences.
She could hardly focus of the castle though as she listened to Theon ramble on about Winterfell and how the Starks had endured the War for the Dawn. He veered off a bit to wax on about one of his ancestors, Theon Greyjoy who had been raised by Lord Eddard Stark. He’d betrayed the Starks but made it up to them in the end. It was clear Theon took a great deal of pride in the connection.
Sansa couldn’t help but wonder if Theon was around and part of their lives, what did that mean for Jon? Could he be around, too?
Her heart pounded with hope though it might be foolish.
“I had a dream, a very real, very intense dream a while back,” Bran said, drawing her from her musings. He was looking at her intently. “I dreamed the castle was destroyed. I dreamed that the Dragon Queen flew her black beast to Winterfell and destroyed it. She feared that the newborn Stark heir would claim her crown. I dreamed the baby was safely ferried away by his aunt and taken to Braavos before being brought back after the queen’s death. I dreamed so many things, Sansa.”
“Dude, how fried are you right now?” Theon laughed. “Seriously, Bran…maybe lay off a bit. You’re like a little bro to me and I worry.” He glanced at his watch. “Whoa, it’s getting late. I gotta get home to Robb before he pitches a fit. He’s making taquitos tonight at my request and it’s a 40-minute drive this time of day.”
“Wait…you live with Robb?”
“Uh…yeah,” Theon said with another concerned look. Shit. I’ve got to start thinking before I speak. “Anyway, you kids’ better scurry. Your mom will be fretting. Don’t want Ned out here scouring the woods for you again, Brandon.”
“Mom?” Sansa breathed, the enormity of it hitting her like a ton of bricks.
“Dad,” Bran choked.
“What is with you two today?!” Theon asked. “Should I walk you home maybe?”
“No,” Sansa said, regaining her composure quickly. “No, we’re fine. Thank you, Theon.” She clasped his hand. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for us,” she added before hugging him tightly.
“Aw, you make me sound like a hero or something. Don’t be teasing me, Sansa Stark. You’re too pretty to tease a guy like that and your brother would kick my ass.”
She flushed and grinned. She felt Bran’s hand grasping hers. They needed to get home.
All the way through the ancient forest, Sansa and Bran talked. Memories of things that had not previously happened came to them.
“Myranda didn’t exist…or does but doesn’t care about us anyway. We’d be nothing to her without Jon around to…”
“Jon didn’t murder Uncle Petyr and the Child Welfare lady earlier today. They never would’ve been snooping around in the first place. I went to school today. We had a quiz in history. It was very tedious but I don’t care.” He stopped and shouted for the twentieth time, “They’re alive, Sansa!”
She nodded excitedly at him. Of course, she had harbored some hope of that. Changing things, no vampires in her life…she knew it was possible. But she had not fully allowed herself to hope until Theon had spoken of them as alive and well.
“Hurry up!” Bran called, picking up his pace as they got closer.
The house was visible ahead and Sansa’s heart could hardly bear the suspense.
Bran burst through the backdoor, calling out. The dogs started barking wildly, Shaggy, Greywind and Lady. But no Ghost. No little white pup. Somehow, she’d thought he’d be there.
“Mom! Dad!” her brother was shouting.
Sansa froze when she heard his deep voice.
“Bran? What’s the matter, son?” Her father walked into the living room from the kitchen, tall and strong and very much alive. They rushed to him, nearly tackling him in a hug. “What’s all this?” he asked bemusedly. “Sansa, love…why aren’t you on campus? Is something wrong?”
She smiled up at his face, his beloved face just how she remembered him. She was already weeping. “I just wanted to come home today. I wanted to see you again.”
“Again? Was I going somewhere, love?” he teased gently as he brushed a tear from her face. “What in the name of the old gods are you wearing?” he asked next.
She stammered out her story but was already staring at the other person who was joining them.
“Ned, what’s all the fuss? Oh, Sansa! What a lovely surprise!” her mother said. She was wiping off her hands from where she’d been making dinner. She smiled at them all, the tender sweetness of a mother’s smile. She was beautiful. “Are you alright, dear?”
“I’m alright, Mom,” she said, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. Her mother’s expression was skeptical. “I promise, I’m alright,” she said, brushing away the remaining tears.
“Brandon…where have you been?” their mother asked, knowing her daughter would say whatever was on her mind when the time was right.
“With Sansa, Mom,” her brother said. “I told her you were making lemon cake for dessert tonight and she just had to join us.”
Her parents laughed at that. Sansa did as well. This already felt like the way it has always been. She chewed at her bottom lip and wondered about that.
She hugged her mother and then saw her father reach out to stroke his wife’s hair, something he was always doing. Her heart was too full to think about much else just now.
But later, as she sat at the table to enjoy dinner with her parents and younger siblings, Sansa wondered if the memories of her other life would leave her in time. She worried more that her memories of the past six months with Jon would fade. She’d promised him, hadn’t she?
I’ll never stop searching for you.
She couldn’t imagine forgetting Jon and the months they had shared together. He’d told her to not be sad but how could she not be?
“So, how’s Dickon?” Arya asked out of the blue.
Sansa looked curiously around the table and realized they were all looking at her. “Who?”
Arya rolled her eyes. “Uh, the guy you were dating when you came home over the break. The one you sighed dreamily about, making us all sick.”
“Oh, gods…right!” she said in a panic. Like a switch had been flicked inside her brain, new memories flooded her of a tall, broad-shouldered young man with dimples. He’d been so sweet but… “We, uh…broke up in February.”
“Oh, no!” her mother cried. “He was such a nice young man, Sansa. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I…I didn’t want you feeling sad about it, Mom. I was…I wasn’t all that attached and I guess I just...it was for the best.”
The memories made her shift guiltily in her chair. He hadn’t understood. She hadn’t really either. She just knew he wasn’t who she was looking for then. She’d felt terrible for disappointing a nice guy who had really liked her.
And she now felt guilty for having something she’d hoped might turn out special with someone who wasn’t Jon.
You didn’t know. You didn’t know Jon. He wasn’t in your life.
Tired and overwhelmed, she took her leave quickly after dinner was done. She would spend more time with her parents and siblings later. For now, she needed to get away and think. She wished everyone a good night and said she needed to get back to school.
“Are you okay?” Bran asked as she got close to the door. He knew at least.
“I will be…I hope,” she answered. “How about you?”
“I think I’ll be fine,” her brother said happily.
He’d not lost the love of his life after all and their parents were alive. She was happy for them. Robb was free of trying to be a parent to Bran and Rickon and they all had Ned and Catelyn Stark back. How could she begrudge them their happiness…even if it might only be Bran that remembered the way things had been before now?
“I’m sorry for your pain, Sansa,” he added sincerely before letting her go.
She was not surprised to see her car sitting in their driveway. Her dad had helped her find a decently priced, reliable used car in late January. She remembered it clearly…even if she’d been living another life then.
She drove back towards campus and let her mind wander. Like pieces of a puzzle falling into place, more memories of things she hadn’t lived came to her.
Marg would be there at the dorm. But Asha would not be. Theon was part of their lives. His sister had chosen to go to school elsewhere.
We exchanged one Greyjoy for another. But now, Asha has a brother. I hope she is happy.
Their other roommate had left in January and it was just her and Marg. What would she say to Margaery? New memories were coming to her but surely there would be blanks to fill in.
“Pretend I’ve had amnesia since Halloween.”
Gods, she’ll think I’ve flipped.
Without intending to, she took a turn away from school. She’d never driven there. He was always driving them around in his car. But she knew the way as sure as she knew the back of her hand.
The closer she got, the more right it felt.
A filmmaker, living alone near the woods. A pond in the backyard. He won’t know me but I can change that.
Hope filled her. Could it be possible? Would he be waiting? What would she say? She wasn’t sure but she decided that if she found him she wouldn’t let a little awkwardness of introducing herself stand in the way.
She drove up the long driveway. The house was dark. The foreclosure sign was still posted in the yard. Her heart sank again.
The kitchen door had been jimmied and she remembered the drug dealers. She listened for signs of intruders but there were no cars and no noises coming from within. She decided to take the chance.
She walked through the empty house, her fingers brushing the kitchen counter, the walls in the hallway, remembering him, remembering their laughter and their lovemaking, remembering his moments of fierceness and softness in turns.
He was not here. He was gone. He was not part of her life.
Jon Snow had lived a thousand years earlier and was the Hero of the War of the Dawn. He existed in history books. Whereas once the history books spoke of Daenerys Targaryen’s attempt to conquer the Seven Kingdoms with fire and blood before her untimely death, now they told of the return to Northern Independence after the War of the Five Kings; first with Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, and then with Jon Snow, the White Wolf, who took the Stark name after the war.
He and his wife Good Queen Sansa had ruled the North until their deaths. They’d had three children; Eddard, Robb and Lyanna. Eddard had been the next Lord of Winterfell and King in the North and his son and grandson after him. But beyond that, the information grew sketchy. So much had been lost in the great fire that had ravaged the Citadel 500 years earlier. But the Starks had endured and stayed close to their ancestral seat.
But Jon…Jon was nothing but a memory it would seem.
Sansa climbed the stairs to the master bedroom…our bedroom.
It was as empty as the rest of the house.
Defeated and depressed, she sat down in the middle of the room and cried until she was dry. Then, she drove herself back to school. This was no longer her home.
Epilogue-Halloween
“Come on! Please!” Margaery begged. “You’ve been so mopey for nearly six months now!”
“I have not,” Sansa argued.
She thought she’d hid it better. Apparently not. No one but Bran understood her heartache. Arya and Robb had tried to get her to talk to them, her parents had worried. So, she had put on a brave face and pretended all was well again after a week or two of listlessness. But she had not healed on the inside.
The internet had yielded nothing. There were Jon Snows all over Westeros. Where once the name Targaryen had persisted, now there were Snows. But none she’d run across were her Jon.
“Liar,” Marg said. “I don’t know what to make of you anymore! I worry.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll be alright with time.” She knew it was a lie but what else could she say?
Her friend sat down on her twin bed and held her hand. “Are you sad over Dickon?”
“No…not at all,” she said honestly. How can I be sad over a love that never really was?
“Come tonight. Meet some new people. It’ll be good for you.”
“I’d rather stay here. Joffrey might be there.”
Joffrey was still alive of course, just as Uncle Petyr was. Jon had not killed him on Halloween night last year. She had met Dickon at the Halloween party last year instead and not left as early. Thus, Joffrey had not pestered her and it had been Dickon who had walked her back to her dormitory.
We met on Halloween. He called me for a date a couple of weeks later. We dated until February.
The more she repeated it in her mind, the more real it became.
But if Joffrey was still alive it was a small price to pay for having her parents again. And, Trystane and the other innocent victims who’d been killed by Myranda were still alive. There were no vampires preying on Wintertown. She could live with one creepy uncle and a douchebag of an ex hanging around.
“Pooh on Joffrey. I’ll kick him in the balls if he bothers you,” Marg said.
“That’d be amusing since your dating his cousin,” she laughed.
“I’ll buy you new shoes if you come!”
I’ll buy you new shoes. Hadn’t she promised that last year? When Sansa had gone to the party and met Jon? Except now she hadn’t met him at all.
So fucking weird.
“Alright, I’ll go,” she said, mostly to get some relief from the begging. She could always sneak way early. She’d go crazy sitting here alone tonight thinking about last Halloween anyway.
Margaery squealed and clapped. “Do you need help finding a costume on short notice?”
“No, I’ve got one. Nothing wrong with being the same thing two years in a row, right?”
Jon Snow slouched down in the worn-out loveseat and started peeling the foil label from his beer bottle as he tried to block out the deafening music and obnoxious college kids trying to out-shout each other. He hated Halloween. He hated fraternity parties. He was too old for this shit.
Why am I even here?
He’d transferred from Hardhome to complete his graduate studies a couple of months earlier. He’d only made a few friends. He didn’t know why Sam had been so eager for him to go to this party tonight. He’d warned him he would just be an awkward companion, mostly standing about and not knowing anyone.
“It’s my brother’s frat. Some of them are jerks but Dickon’s alright. And there’ll be girls there. How are you ever supposed to meet anyone special if you never go anywhere except class, the library and the apartment?”
“Who’s to say I couldn’t meet someone special at the library?” he had said grumpily.
Sam had laughed but he didn’t get it though. Jon wasn’t particularly expecting to meet anyone special, here or anywhere. He had thought he’d had something special with Ygritte for a while. Alone since his mother’s death, he’d been searching for something for several years, a place to belong and someone to belong with. He’d hoped he’d found that with the feisty red head. But then it had ended when he was forced to admit to himself that they were too different.
Jon had been left feeling that maybe love and family weren’t really in the cards for him. There’d been no one since then, no one that truly awakened something inside him or spoke to his soul.
Awakened something inside you? Spoke to your soul? You sound like a fucking Nicholas Sparks book or something. Gods, you’re pathetic.
He had relented after much pleading on Sam’s part. He might not have wanted to go but Sam was his roommate and closest friend here. He’d gone out of his way to make Jon feel welcome.
“Uh oh…” Sam said, staring at a couple of girls that had just walked in. “I need to go give Dickon a heads up.”
Jon looked over at the girls. One was a brunette dressed as a flapper. Some blonde guy in a gangster costume came over, putting his arm around her shoulders.
But the other girl…Jon did a double take. She was tall and gorgeous with flowing red hair and dressed like Black Widow.
Fuck me. Maybe this wasn’t the worst decision of my life to come here tonight.
But then some other blonde guy came over and started chatting with her. He put his hand on that lovely ass that was covered by the skin-tight costume, reminding Jon of a daydream.
Of course. Girls like her are never single. And if she was, she wouldn’t be interested in me, he thought as he shoved his glasses up his nose and polished off his beer.
He wasn’t bad looking really. He wasn’t ignorant of that fact. But beauties like her didn’t usually give him the time of day in his experience.
He crossed the room and grabbed another beer.
Look at me, he thought. Look this way.
Nothing.
She was busy giving the blonde guy a piece of her mind apparently. He snickered at that. Any dumb shit who managed to get on the bad side of a goddess like her deserved it. And besides…Jon didn’t like the look of the prick.
He kept staring at her, wishing she would glance his way.
I’ll go over and talk to her if she looks this way.
Riiiight…sure you will, you coward.
He took a sip of his beer and decided to get some air, groaning at his pitifulness. He wondered if he could sneak off yet. He’d rather be at home watching scary movies than pining over gorgeous girls he’d never have.
This has got to be a bad dream! It’s like I’ve fallen into ‘Groundhog Day’ or something, Sansa thought as she made her way towards the back porch of the frat house.
First, Joffrey had been an asshole yet again. At least this time she’d chewed his ass out for daring to touch hers.
Then, that Ghostface fucker from 'Scream' had scared the shit out of her…again! Creepy fucker.
Then, she’d opened the wrong door and found Dickon making out with some other girl.
Well, good for Dickon. At least one of us is moving on. Not that I really needed to move on from him.
She felt the tears forming in her eyes and hugged herself tightly. She thought of him, of Jon. She thought of him every day. The memories had not dimmed as she’d once feared they would. He was with her always. His arms, his smile…would she ever be held by him or see his smile again?
Hope remained but with every passing month, she worried more. What if they didn’t find each other for years and years? What if they never met in this life time and she had to wait for another life? Or what if he had found love with another and would never be hers?
What had he said once when she’d asked if they might find a happier ending this time?
‘I don’t know, my lovely. I don’t know if we’re meant for such things...but I can hope for them, I suppose.’
She wiped her eyes and headed out the door.
It was chilly outside on the last night of October. Winter was coming and Sansa wondered if she’d ever see her soul mate again.
And then, she did.
She blinked and blinked again. There he stood, dressed in black from head to toe at the edge of the porch, close to the steps. He was wearing glasses. His curls were loose. He was pale but not as pale. It was him though. There was no question of it.
She gasped and he turned towards her when he heard her.
“I…” she squeaked. What could she say? Her mind went blank.
Don’t sound like a fucking loon. Oh, gods…what if he’s not even interested in me?
But he looked down at his beer bottle and chuckled softly. The sound was soothing to her jangled nerves.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he replied. She put her hands on her hips and arched an eyebrow. Her heart was thundering in her chest but something just told her this was right. “Sorry, it’s just…I saw you inside and…you make a great Natasha,” he said awkwardly. “You’re…you’re lovely.” He scrubbed at his beard and looked a bit flustered.
“You make a great Johnny Cash,” she replied with a smirk.
“I’m not dressed as…oh, yeah. Very funny,” he said, rolling his eyes playfully. He cleared his throat and set his bottle on the railing. “I saw you inside. I wanted to talk to you,” he said.
“Inside? You saw me inside and wanted to talk to me?” Oh, gods…please, please, please.
“Yeah…but I failed to nut up and come over,” he muttered.
She laughed. “Well, here I am. You can talk to me now if you like.”
He grinned so sweetly it made her ache all over.
“Alright then. Hi, I’m Jon Snow. I’m new here…on campus, I mean. I’m a graduate student in the biology program.”
He held out his hand. She shook it. His hand was warm.
“The Jon Snow?” she said teasingly, amazed that she was pulling this off so coolly when she wanted to leap into his arms and tell him how much she’d missed him.
He looked embarrassed. “Well, I’m one of them. It’s a popular name in the North.”
“It is. I’m Sansa, Sansa Stark.”
“Like Good Queen Sansa?” he asked. His expression was incredulous but filled with something she recognized. Hope.
“That’s me.”
“She was married to King Jon from the War for the Dawn, you know.”
“I know.”
A little initial awkwardness, a little uncertainty on both sides but with every passing minute, Sansa knew this was it.
Both agreed they didn’t care much for the party and decided to go have coffee together. They talked for two hours and Sansa learned about her soul mate…all over again. She liked what she learned.
Perhaps part of her would always miss her monster a bit but this was better. He was whole, a living, breathing man, a mortal like her, no longer the reluctant vampire who hated what he was.
“Do you have a big family?” he asked at one point.
“Yeah. Mom, Dad, three brothers and a sister.”
“That sounds nice,” he said wistfully. “My mom is gone. My dad wasn’t around.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe someday you could…” meet them. I know they’d love you, she thought not finishing her sentence.
Near midnight, they were holding hands and walking towards his apartment. He’d asked her to come up. She’d agreed.
The door opened and a white dog came trotting out to meet them.
“Oh, this is…”
“Ghost!” she shouted. He looked shocked as the dog sniffed her hand and licked it. “I, uh…sorry, it’s Halloween. I just thought that’d be a good name for him. Silly, right?” she asked uneasily.
“No, not at all. That’s his name actually.”
“Oh…well, what a coincidence.”
“Yeah. Kind of like déjà vu all over again.”
She laughed and he was smiling, a sexy sort of smile that made her belly tighten in anticipation. He moved closer, his dark eyes growing darker. Her toes started to curl in her boots just thinking about his touch. His hand gently stroked her cheek, her hair.
“May I kiss you, Sansa Stark?”
“You may,” she breathed just as his lips met hers.
How she’d missed his kisses. Except now she could feel his heart beating under her hand when she laid it on his chest. He was warm without killing anyone. His tongue only tasted of coffee with no coppery tang of blood under the surface.
They moved to the couch and a frenzy of touching and exploring was ignited.
“I don’t do this…ever,” he panted before diving in for more kisses.
“I don’t either,” she sighed, relishing the press of his firm lips and the scrape of his beard along her jaw once more as his hands gripped her hips.
“Gods, I’m…it’s like I’ve known you for ages or something.”
“Hmmm,” she agreed, running her fingers through his curls as the making out continued.
“Shit, Sansa…does that sound completely fucking nuts?” he asked anxiously a minute later.
“I’ve heard of stranger things,” she replied.