Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

'I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.’ Pablo Neruda

‘Every day is Halloween, isn’t it? For some of us.” Tim Burton

Halloween

Sansa Stark was certain this was a mistake. She hated Halloween, she hated being frightened and she hated fraternity parties.

It all started back when she was a kid. Back at the trick-or-treater stage, her mother had always insisted Sansa go as some famous redhead. Raggedy Ann…the Little Mermaid…Little Orphan Annie (God, that was the worst!)…Pippy Longstockings (Okay, equally bad)...Little Red Riding Hood. Her last year of trick-or-treating, she’d went as Jessica Rabbit and her father had about had a heart attack over the costume.

Once Sansa moved past the trick-or-treating stage though was around the time that all of her friends decided it was fun to have the shit scared out of them on Halloween. She hated scary movies and never joined the herd heading to the haunted corn maze or house of horrors. It didn’t help having an older brother who loved Halloween…like seriously adored it.

Halloween was Robb’s favorite holiday and he loved scaring everyone in the house, except Dad, who didn’t much care for the holiday. Dad had threatened his firstborn with a slow and painful death when Robb tried to pull the old I-was-cutting-wood-and-chopped-off-my-finger gag when he was still in high school.  Robb had left Dad alone on Halloween after that. 

Sansa wasn’t so lucky though. She was Robb’s favorite target because, while her younger siblings usually just rolled their eyes at him these days and her mother would shriek but then yell at him, Sansa was usually reduced to a whimpering, cowering puddle on the floor when he got her. And, boy, did he ever manage to get her. Like daily in October…at least.

And then there were frat parties…she had dated a total prick her freshman year named Joffrey who was in a frat. He’d seemed princely enough at first but after a couple of months she started to see he was just a jackass. He treated her like shit anytime they went near his frat brothers (which became most of the time) and one night he let some of his brothers grope her when he was drunk. Sansa had run from the frat house frightened and with nothing on her but her phone. She had called Robb and he had picked her up and proceeded to kick the living shit out of Joffrey the next day.  So, Robb wasn’t all bad at least.

So, why was Sansa Stark dressed as Black Widow from 'The Avengers' (yep, another redhead) on Halloween to attend a frat party that had been turned into a Haunted House for the night?

Because her roommate, Margaery Tyrell, had begged and pouted and promised to buy Sansa some new shoes she really wanted if she’d go with her. Shoes…my weakness…my kryptonite.

Margaery was dating some frat boy named Tommen and had asked Sansa to meet her at the party.

“Maybe you’ll meet someone new,” Marg had teased as they were getting dressed.

“At a frat party? At this school? I doubt it.”

Sansa entered the three-story frat house with caution. It was supposed to be a haunted house. People jump out at you in Haunted Houses.  This was known. Although she’d never actually went to one, she was pretty sure that was a given. There was a mummy sitting by the front door but he was basically just a drunk frat guy moaning and not really scary.  Still, best to keep your distance, right?

As she moved on into the room, Black Widow and Sexy Kitten Margaery saw a very realistic-looking coffin with Captain Super Douche standing next to it. He was supposed to be Captain America but Tommen was no Chris Evans…not even close.

“Hey, are you supposed to be Black Widow?” he asked Sansa as she approached after he kissed the living daylights out of Margaery.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Shoes, Sansa…cute shoes…

Tommen snickered. “You remember in 'Winter Soldier' when Cap and Black Widow kissed in that mall trying to avoid the bad guys?” he asked with a licentious look. 

“Yeah…” Yep, you are definitely Captain Super Douche.  Margaery mouthed a ‘Sorry’ to Sansa.

“Hey…hey…Sansa, wanna see something scary?” Tommen asked next.

“Not really,” she replied.

“No, no, no…this is good. It’s Halloween.”

He pulled Sansa over to the coffin. The lid was closed. What’s so scary about this? Just then the lid banged open and a very bloody Count Dracula popped out.

“Oh, fuck!!!” Sansa shrieked as she jumped back about five feet and into the arms of none other than Freshman Year Mistake Numero Uno, Joffrey.

“Hey, Sansa,” he said with that shitty-ass smirk of his.

“What are you doing here? This isn’t even your frat,” she managed to say as she quickly retreated from his arms.

“Oh, Tommen’s my cousin. He invited me.” Isn’t that super? “Hey, are you like a Dominatrix? Love the skin-tight suit, babe,” he said.

Sansa glared at Margaery who was studying the Dracula coffin intently...a bit too intently to be convincing.  Did you know that?  I'm thinking you knew that...those had better be some freaking awesome shoes. 

Joffrey went to put an arm around her shoulders and she pulled a move that Black Widow might've been impressed with when she ducked under his arm and spun on her black-high-heeled-booted-foot to head to another part of the house.

What she really wanted was to leave but she had just got here and made a fool of herself over the stupid vampire gag and ran into stupid Joffrey so she decided to find a place to hide out for a bit before she disappeared with some excuse.

She was walking down the hall towards the back of the house when Ghostface from ‘Scream’ jumped out at her from an open bedroom door. She had never watched the movies but she’d seen the previews for it. That dude was freaking creeping. She’d slept with Arya for three nights in a row after she’d seen an ad for it on TV.

“EEEEKKKKK!” she screamed and ran on down the hall.

She cautiously passed two closed doors before she spotted another open door.  What nightmare lurks in there? Oh wait, just a drunk couple screwing on a twin bed…lovely.

Sansa next headed out the back door to the porch. It was large and went across the entire back of the house. There was a couple of guys playing a round of bag toss on one side and a couple making out by the fire pit on the other. It was chilly outside in her costume but she didn’t want to crowd the couple. There was a man standing alone all the way at the edge of the porch, close to the steps.

Well, I could just leave from here. Just walk down the stairs and head around front and walk home. Margaery can keep the damn shoes…I just want to leave.

The man turned to look at her almost as if she had spoken to him and Sansa felt all the oxygen leave her lungs, like someone had just hit her in the chest...with a sledgehammer.

Here, standing less than ten feet away, was an absolutely gorgeous man. He had curly dark hair that hung just past his chin. His eyes looked black with so little light and his skin was pale but not scary or sickly pale. He had a neatly trimmed beard and mustache and he wasn’t wearing a costume, just a black button-down tucked into fitted black jeans and boots.

Well, he could be Johnny Cash, I guess. He is all in black.

Suddenly, the man chuckled at her and raised his eyes skyward for a moment before gifting her with the most beautiful smile.

Oh, my…he is gorgeous. Wonder if he’s single. Knowing my luck, he's not...or he’ll be a prick…or not interested in women.

Just as these thoughts were formed the man laughed softly.

“What’s so funny?” Sansa asked suddenly wondering why this handsome stranger was laughing at her when she hadn’t said a word.

“Nothing, my lovely, nothing,” he said as he smiled at her.

My lovely? Okay, I’ll take that.  “I don't think I've seen you on campus before.  Are you a member here?” she asked.

“No.” He stood there looking at her after the one word response. Okay…small talk isn’t your forte, I guess. But before Sansa could open her mouth to say something terribly witty or profound…or at least to ask another question, he spoke again, “I’m not in a fraternity and I don’t attend school here.”

“Oh,” was all Sansa could think to say to that. Then, why on Earth would a beautiful man like you waste time at this crappy party? she thought.

“I’m meeting a friend nearby. I was drawn to the music and festivities.” Well, that’s not too weird, I guess...maybe a little? “Why are you here, Natasha?” he asked then.

“My name’s not Natasha.”

“Sorry. You’re Black Widow, aren’t you? Natasha Romanov…”

Okay…so you’re a superhero nerd. I can deal with a nerd, especially a hot nerd like you. The man laughed out loud this time. Is he reading my mind or something?

The man suddenly sobered. “I’m Jon Snow,” he said and held out his hand.

Sansa reached out and shook his hand. “Wow, your hand is cold,” she said. He looked a bit uncomfortable at her comment and put his hands up to his mouth to blow on them. “Uh, sorry. I’m Sansa Stark. I’m here because my best friend begged me to come…and promised to buy me some shoes.” Jon laughed again. He does have a nice laugh. “So, you decided to just come over to check out the drunk college kids and that’s why you’re not in costume?”

“Who says I’m not in costume?” he replied.

Sansa put her hands on her hips and looked him over. “So, what are you?”

“I’m a vampire.”

Now, it was Sansa’s turn to laugh. “Well…wow! That’s a pretty basic vampire look.”

Jon smiled and said, “Well, we do try to blend in, you know.”

“Where are your fangs?”

“They only come out when I’m ready to feed…or very angry.”

Sansa smiled at his off-the-cuff responses but, as they stood there looking at one another in silence, it started to feel a bit…weird.  He kept sniffing at the air, too...like a dog trying to catch a scent. 

“Well, I wasn’t really having a good time in there so I think I’m going to leave now but it was nice to meet you, Jon Snow.”

“Likewise, Sansa Stark.”

Sansa stepped down the steps away from the handsome vampire and turned to head around the side of the frat house. It was dark beside the house with no flood lights on this side and she walked through the crunchy, dead leaves in her black high-heeled boots cautiously. As she came around front, she saw Joffrey on the front porch talking to some other guys. She ducked her head and made for the sidewalk.

“Hey! Hey, Sansa!” he started to holler.

He said something to the other guys that had them all laughing boisterously. Sansa reached the pavement and started towards her dormitory. Please don’t follow me…please don’t follow me…shit. He had caught up to her quickly jogging along in his running shoes. Her boots weren’t really made for a quick get-away out here.

“Hey, don’t walk away from me, Sansa,” he said like he was amused, except he seemed more like he was pissed.

“Leave me alone, Joffrey. I’m going home. Don’t follow me.”

“Maybe I’ll follow you if I want to.”

Gods, are you 10 years old?  “Maybe I’ll call my brother again if you keep following me,” Sansa retorted.

“Maybe I won’t give you a chance to call him this time,” he answered back.  Oh, shit…I am not liking this situation one bit. Sansa kept walking but started looking around for someone on the street who might be able to help her…no one in sight. It’s only 10:30PM. Where is everyone?  “Stop walking, Sansa, and talk to me at least.”

“No.”

“I said, ‘Stop walking’, bitch.”

Joffrey grabbed her wrist and spun her to face him. Sansa started to let out a scream but before it could pass her lips, Joffrey was flat on his back and Jon was at her side. Where the fuck did you come from?

He looked over at her. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes…just a bit shaken. Where the fuck did you come from?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked around. “I, uh, decided to leave the party after you did. I saw him following you…and heard what he was saying.”

“Okay, but where did you come from just now? I was just looking around for help when he grabbed me and no one was here. How’d you get here so fast? And what did you do to him? He looks unconscious.”

“I move quickly, I suppose. I hit him is all.”

With what? A truck? He started to chuckle again. Sansa stared at the stranger who she’d met less than 15 minutes ago and wondered if it would be incredibly weird if she kissed him right now. Jon looked up from Joffrey and his eyes met hers.

“Uh, thank you, Jon. That was…I really appreciate your help.”

He nodded and said, “Sure…may I walk you home, Sansa?”

“Yes, I’d like that.” I think.

Chapter Text

‘I want to hide the truth,

I want to shelter you,

But with the beast inside,

There’s nowhere we can hide.’

-“Demons” by Imagine Dragons

~Of the five senses, scent is said to be most closely linked to memory~

Lavender and lemons…definitely lemons. But there’s something else I can’t quite make out. She smelled so good. He could smell her blood of course. He could hear the pounding of her heart and the pulsing of the vital fluid as it pumped through her veins. That was normally what he noticed first of humans but it wasn’t what called him to her. It was the scent of her skin that he found so…intoxicating. She smelled clean and fresh and reminded him of something or someone he couldn’t remember anymore. It was something sweet though, something that meant a great deal to me at one time.

He hated that…that he couldn’t remember things from before he had changed. Jaqen had said the ability to read minds was a gift. ‘A precious and rare gift…but like all gifts, there is a price and the better the gift, the higher the price.’

He took another deep sniff of her to clear his head or perhaps befuddle it some more. She’ll likely think I have a cold…or a cocaine habit…if I keep sniffing like this all the time.

Vampires were most aroused by scent, he’d been told. He was definitely aroused. He could smell her sex and it smelled sweet…a sweet and tangy musk. But that wasn’t what had him so aroused…not like the delectable fragrance of Sansa’s skin.

He’d never felt this level of arousal since he had crossed over to this life ages ago. That’s why he had decided to follow her. He had meant to keep his distance. He only wanted to see where she went and where she lived. You sound like a stalker, Jon. Well…I am a predator.

But he didn’t want to bother her. She’d never be his prey. He had even considered marking her so the others would leave her be.

I just met her. I can’t mark her, can I?

He’d never done it. Jaqen said it was easy to mark a mortal that you cared for, that you wanted to protect from harm. But then you were bound to that person for the rest of their life. They might not even be aware of your existence but you would haunt their steps and follow their lives and…feel their pain. That was something that had never interested Jon.

If this is my accursed life for all eternity, so be it.  I accept that I am a monster.  I don't deserve to be loved and I don't want to be bound to a mortal.  They all die so soon anyway.

But, as they walked along he couldn't help thinking that perhaps she’d be worth the pain.

And she didn’t just smell good. She looked good.

‘Good enough to eat,’ Theon would say with that annoying leer of his.

She looked more than good. She was beautiful. Tall and willowy…taller than him in her boots. He’d been told he had been partial to redheads back in his other life. Supposedly, his first love had been a redhead. Kissed by fire, they’d said. He couldn’t remember anything about her; not her face, not her scent, not even her name.

Kissed by fire. Sansa is certainly that, he thought as he looked over at the cascade of long, auburn hair hanging halfway down her back and around her shoulders.

But even if her hair had been green, she would’ve still been a beauty. Creamy white skin, soft pink lips and blue eyes that reminded Jon of the seas around the Summer Isles. Not that he spent much time in the Summer Isles. A little too sunny.

Even if he preferred to avoid the Summer Isles, he still knew what they looked like because Jon loved the movies. They’d helped pass eternity since he first became aware of them over a hundred years earlier and he enjoyed seeing the vivid colors on the screen. Through films, he could travel back to all the places he’d been or visit places he’d never been. He could even go to places that didn’t exist like ‘a galaxy far, far way.’

It wasn’t that he couldn’t move about by day. Vampires frying up like sausages in the sunshine was just a lot of nonsense. But we don’t sparkle either, he thought with a sardonic twist of his lips. Daytime was not their natural time though and their powers were weak…much weaker in the sunlight. They were creatures of the night. That’s what they preferred and when they were most powerful.

One of the things he loved about living in Winterfell was that there weren’t many sunny days…at all. And there was something about it and the North in general that felt familiar and welcoming. Like I’m home again…if I knew where home ever was.

His family (and they really were like a family, albeit a rather strange, fucked-up family of four vampires and a red witch) all enjoyed the rainy days in the warmer months and snowy days of winter. Jon liked being out during the day more than the others. Melisandre often teased that he was afraid of the dark.

‘The night is dark and full of terrors,’ she would say.

‘I am not afraid of the dark…I am the dark,’ he would respond.

‘My child…the dark desires the light, like a lover,’ she would finish.

He didn’t remember when they’d started staying those words to one another but it was a little routine now. And, no one in the house was surprised anymore when Jon would head out early in the morning as the rest of them were heading to bed.

He’d heard her inner voice on the porch and thought she sounded amusing and kind. And then he had smelled her and her scent had overwhelmed him.

So, he had meant only to follow Sansa at a distance until that little shit had started following her, too. Jon had stolen into the shadows and kept pace with them. The boy’s ugly thoughts had been shouting inside his head.

‘Fucking cunt! How dare she walk away from me? Dressed like that…she deserves to get raped. I could do it. I could force her into that alley there. Who would stop me? We dated before…I could just claim she wanted it.’

His rage, his wish to harm Sansa was all Jon could hear. He had heard her thoughts so perfectly on the porch. Her inner voice was as sweet as the one she spoke with. Now, he could only hear the boy…and he wanted to kill the boy. But he wouldn’t, not with Sansa right there.

When the boy, Joffrey, grabbed her wrist, Jon moved faster than the human eye could see. A cat had hissed at him in the shadows. They saw things humans did not. He had hit Joffrey with his fist, square in the jaw. He may have broken his jaw. Jon had trouble controlling his strength when he let his emotions take over. And they had taken over approximately 14 minutes ago when he had met Sansa Stark.

Now, they were walking along the sidewalk side-by-side. She had started shiver a bit and Jon wished he could put an arm around her to warm her. It wouldn’t do any good even if you dared to take such liberties with this girl you just met.

His skin was as chilled as hers…more so. He hadn’t fed in a while and his body was only warm to the touch for a day or two after he fed. It gave a false sense of being a living, breathing thing. I’m not that but I must feed later at least.

He could hear her thoughts again and it brought a smile to his face. And gods…he couldn’t stop sniffing her. Lavender and lemons and…rain! That was it, the smell that had eluded him earlier.

‘Could he possibly like me? Or is he just being polite? Does he have a girlfriend?’

Jon found it hard to keep from chuckling at her thoughts. He hoped his silence didn’t make her uncomfortable. Jaqen was always saying he didn’t talk enough around mortals.

‘You’re always too busy listening to their thoughts.’

Well, Theon talks enough for everyone.

“So, you’re a student here?” he asked in an attempt to make some conversation and stop sniffing constantly.

“Yes, it’s my sophomore year.”

“What are you studying?”

“Art history. Well, actually I’m studying Finance but I’m taking Art History classes, too. It’s kind of a passion of mine.” ‘It’s a passion of mine? Gods, you sound like such an idiot, Sansa…no wonder you don’t have a boyfriend.’

Jon smiled wider. “That guy wasn’t your boyfriend, was he?”

“No. I dated him for a couple of months last year…big mistake.” ‘I guess it was pretty well over once Robb kicked his ass. Thank the gods.’

She was smiling to herself and Jon almost asked who Robb was. Get ahold of yourself…do you want to frighten her? He cleared his throat and said, “He seemed pretty aggressive. I wouldn’t want him bothering you again.”

“That’s very sweet of you but you shouldn’t worry. I’ll call my brother later. He’s a…met Joffrey and he watches over me.”

A brother…of course. What brother wouldn’t protect his sister, especially a lovely sister like you? “Your brother lives here?”

“Yes. My family lives about an hour away but my older brother lives in town.” She looked over at him and continued, “You said you’re not a student here. What do you do?” ‘Male model? You could definitely be a male model.’

Jon had been so busy listening to her internal thoughts it took him a moment to realize she had actually asked a question and was expecting a response. “Uh...when I’m not busy defending young ladies I’ve just met, you mean?” he asked to buy some time. I’m a vampire. I live with my vampire family…well, Melisandre’s not a vampire. She’s a witch. Anyway, we hunt for prey together sometimes. We don’t really hold day jobs or anything. “I’m a film maker,” he said abruptly. Where in seven hells did that come from?

Sansa’s eyes got wide. “You make movies?”

Genius, Jon. Gods, Theon would laugh his ass off at this. “Yeah. Well, documentaries really…about wildlife and stuff like that. For Discovery Channel and school programs…those kinds of films.” At least she won’t expect you to be listed on IMDB now, you idiot. Jaqen is right. You’ve always sucked at coming up with cover stories and you can’t lie worth a shit.

“That’s really great,” Sansa said with a brilliant smile. Such lovely white teeth…such a long and lovely white neck. “Here’s my dorm,” she said as Jon was starting to lean close for another deep sniff.

Leave now. Leave her be. She’s innocent and young and you have nothing to offer her but pain. “May I walk you up?” Well done. I suppose, a monster wants what a monster wants.

Sansa nodded and Jon followed her inside knowing he might not be able to ever stop following her after this night.

Gods, Asha…again? Who is it tonight? Tristifer or Qarl or someone new?

The scarlet ribbon was tied to the door handle…not for the first time this week. With three girls sharing the dorm, Margaery had suggested the tried and true ‘ribbon on the door handle’ method at the start of their freshman year. ‘For whenever one of us is entertaining a gentleman caller,’ she’d said with a wink as she showed off the ribbon.

Not that I’d ever get a chance to entertain a gentleman with these two roommates even if I wanted to. How many nights have I sat out here in the hall or had to sit downstairs in our crappy excuse of a sitting room longing to go to bed while one of them was in there with their latest catch? And, I am so sick of being in this costume! I can’t even go change.

Sansa bowed her head for a moment and felt like crying in her frustration but he was still standing there.

“Uh…this is my door. Thanks again, Jon.” He was looking at her curiously. He had his hands shoved in his pockets and looked sweet and kind of shy. You’re gorgeous and probably have women clawing each other’s eyes out to sleep with you. How can you possibly look so sweet and shy?

“Aren’t you going in?” he asked with an embarrassed look now. I’d swear you would be blushing right now if you weren’t so pale.

“Sure, sure…in a bit. One of my dorm mates is in there right now. Um…she’s not alone…” Sansa put her back against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor. “I’m good here. I can text her if it’s taking…if it gets really late,” she said disheartenedly.

It’s not even 11:00. Margaery probably won’t head back till 1 or 2…if she comes back at all. Captain Super Douche will probably get her to stay the night and Asha’s in there with…well, someone. Gods, I wish I had a car. Happy Fucking Halloween, Sansa.

Jon leaned against the wall next to her and mimicked her move of sliding to the floor. Once he was beside her on the floor, he grinned cheekily at her and asked, “This happen often?” He pointed to the ribbon on the door handle.

“Yeah,” she answered blushing now. “I hate living in the dorms and sharing one small space. Mom and Dad said they’d help me get an apartment next year. Maybe Marg and I, that’s my other roommate, could share it. At least we’d have our own bedrooms. It’s not like I make enough money to afford a place on my own.”

“What do you do?” Sansa raised her eyebrows and thought, I sit out here while they fuck. “What do you do for work?” he clarified with a chuckle.

“Oh! I’m worked part time at the campus coffee shop for a bit but mostly just a student now.”

“I like coffee,” he said in a low voice while staring at her…neck? He raised his eyes back up to hers and said, “Sansa, I know we just met but I’d like to…you know…well, I’d like to get some. Coffee, I mean!” he shouted throwing his hands up to cover his face before he laughed again. “Gods, I made a complete hash of that!”

Sansa couldn’t help but giggle and put her hand on his arm for just a moment. Whoa…if his arm is anything to go by, he must be built like Thor under that shirt. “I get what you’re saying and that would be wonderful…to get some. Coffee, that is,” she said laughing with him now.

They walked to the coffee shop which was only about five minutes from her dorm. It wasn’t very crowded but there was a witch and a wizard at one table and a few loners without costumes hanging at the counter. Jon escorted her to a small table towards the back and pulled her chair out for her. A gentleman through and through.

“Not exactly,” he mumbled.

“What?”

His eyes got wide and he clapped a hand over his mouth for a second. “Sorry, I was just thinking this is not exactly what I had planned tonight.” I knew it. He doesn’t want to be here with you, Sansa. He just felt sorry for you. “I mean, I’m delighted to be with you. I just didn’t expect…” He gestured helplessly for a moment before concluding, “Things like this don’t happen to me…ever.”

“Things like what, Jon?”

“Meeting a beautiful young woman at a party and taking her out for coffee…those kind of things.”

Oh, I think he just called me beautiful. Sansa smiled and said, “That’s nice to hear. Things like this don’t happen to me either.”

Jon was smirking now. “Things like what, Sansa?”

“Meeting a handsome man at a party, actually speaking to said handsome man, handsome man coming to my rescue, going to have coffee with the same handsome man…you get the idea.”

“Sansa…” he said huskily. His voice was already deep and sexy but now it had her squirming in her seat. It was like an electric current running through her and he had only said her name. He slowly reached across the small table and took her hand. His skin was cool to the touch but she couldn’t say she minded right now. She was radiating enough heat suddenly for them both and she felt her heart rate increasing at his gentle touch with his warm eyes locked on hers. His thumb started rubbing slow and soft circles on the inside of her wrist near her pulse point. It was a curious sensation and it made her feel dizzy, almost drunk. He shifted in his chair and stopped rubbing the soothing circles but then he inhaled deeply and made a contented sort of sound. Maybe he really likes the smell of coffee. He looked at her earnestly and said, “I hope you don’t think I’m…”

Then, Shae made the most unwelcome appearance of her life to take their order. You hope I don’t think you’re what?! Ah, Shae…your timing sucks!

“Hey, Sansa. What brings you in tonight?”

“We just wanted some coffee, Shae,” Sansa said crossing her legs and fanning herself a bit.

“Usual?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“How about you, good looking?” Shae asked Jon before she winked at Sansa. Shae…I’m already nervous. Please don’t embarrass me.

“Just black coffee, please,” he responded.

Shae left and Sansa hoped Jon would say whatever it was he was had wanted to say earlier…or at least hold her hand again. But he had sat back and had his hands back on his side of the table. Shae was soon back with their coffee. She caught him staring at her intently a time or two but then his eyes would quickly dart back to this coffee. The laughter and smiles from earlier seemed to have vanished along with whatever he was going to say before Shae’s arrival.

They sipped their coffee quietly while Sansa tried to make small talk. It was a bit one-sided though. Jon did not seem eager to reengage in any conversation again and Sansa had no idea what to say. She had several questions she’d like to ask him but her mother had told her as a girl that it wasn’t polite to interrogate someone she’d just met.

The longer the silence stretched out, the more awkward it became. Jon had been withdrawn since Shae’s appearance but now he seemed to be on edge, almost like he was anticipating something unpleasant.

“There you are, Jaehaerys,” a man’s voice said from behind her. Sansa looked around to find a stranger there smiling at her and Jon. Jaehaerys? I don’t even know how you’d spell that. Who in Seven Hells is Jaehaerys?

“You know I hate that name,” Jon said ill-temperedly.

He stood and positioned himself between the man and Sansa. Hmmm, nice ass. Wait…what’s going on?

“A man should not hate his own name,” the stranger said.

“It was never my name…not really.”

The stranger leaned to one side to look at Sansa. He had wavy red hair that hung to his shoulders with a prominent white streak through it and his eyes were blue. He was dressed queerly…like from some other era but it didn’t seem like a costume. It looked like real clothes he wore every day. Well, it is Halloween, Sansa.

“Who is this lovely girl?” the man asked. “Is she the reason you stood me up?” Jon didn’t answer right away. This must be the friend he was supposed to meet.

“You could say that,” Jon finally answered. “This is Sansa. Sansa, this is Jaqen, a friend of mine.”

Sansa stood and offered her hand. The man leaned over and kissed it. How gallant…and, uh…creepy. Sansa noticed that his hands were just as cold as Jon’s.

“Well,” Jaqen said with a smile. “I can hardly blame you for ditching me then.”

He pulled up a chair from another table and sat down. Jon sat back down and was giving his ‘friend’ a rather murderous glance as Sansa sat down again. Sansa sipped at her coffee not sure what to say as Jon and Jaqen sat there staring at one another. It was almost like they were having a staring contest…a freaky and tense staring contest. And as she sat there watching them, Jon bristling with apparent fury and Jaqen seemingly amused, Sansa suddenly realized that she wanted to go home. She wanted to go home, as in her parents’ house. She wanted to see her mother and father and younger siblings.

“Excuse me,” she said hopping up quickly.

Jon looked over at her with concern but didn’t try to stop her. She raced to the ladies’ room and pulled out her phone.

“Hello?” he answered on the second ring. He was still awake at least.

“Robb? Are you busy?” Sansa asked. No sooner than the words were out of her mouth, she could hear a female’s voice in the background. Of course, he’s busy. He’s always busy.

“Yeah, a bit. You need me, sweetheart?”

She started to say ‘no, never mind’ but she did need him, or wanted him at least. She wanted her big brother. She wanted to go home. She liked Jon but he had been so quiet the past 15 minutes and then the other man had shown up and made her feel even more uncomfortable. She didn’t know anything about Jon really. Jon Snow…it almost sounds made up. And Jaqen called him another name.

“Yes…I’m sorry. I need you,” she said and hated that her voice cracked and she could feel the sting of tears.

“Are you hurt?!” he asked then.

“No! I’m not…I’m not hurt. I just want to go home. Will you please come get me?”

She told Robb where she was and hung up. ‘Ten minutes, Sansa. I’ll be there.’ Robb lived 20 minutes away but she knew how fast he drove when he really wanted to be somewhere. Sansa wiped her eyes. Why am I crying? Get a grip, girl.

Once her face looked sort of normal again, she headed back out to the table. Jaqen was still there, sitting at their table and sipping a coffee of his own now, and Jon looked monumentally pissed.

“Oh, you’re back. I was afraid I’d scared you off, lovely girl,” Jaqen said.

“No, don’t be silly.” Yes, you are creepy. “I’m sorry, Jon,” she said. “I really need to go. I’ve kept you from your friend long enough.”

Jaqen was smirking at Jon and Jon looked ready to tear his friend limb from limb.  “Let me walk you back to your dorm at least,” he said obviously wishing to make an effort again.

Well, you could’ve done a bit more talking earlier and maybe I wouldn’t be running away now. “That won’t be necessary,” she said decidedly. “My brother’s going to come pick me up actually.” He raised his eyebrows at that. Yep, I’m a coward and snuck off to the ladies’ room to call my big brother to come get me away from you and your weird friend. She heard tires screeching to a halt outside and caught a flash of Robb’s red pick-up through the window. Whoa, Robb. Seven minutes…that’s like a new record. “Uh, he’s here. I’ll see you around.” Except I probably won’t. Sansa Stark, Reigning Queen of the Lonely Hearts.

Robb was heading in the door as she got to it. She knew that look he was giving her. He was wondering why in the name of the old gods and the new she’d called him so late on Halloween to come fetch her and take her home to Mom and Dad. He was trying to assess if she were sick or injured or in trouble. She glanced back at Jon standing at the table with his hands shoved back in his pockets again looking thoroughly miserable now.

“Just a second, Robb.” Sansa grabbed a napkin and one of Shae’s pens off the counter and scribbled down her number. She walked back to Jon and handed it to him. “Only if you’re interested…” she said nervously. He took it with wide eyes but before he could respond she turned back to her brother, too afraid to hear the rejection right to her face. “Take me home, Robb.”

Robb looked over at Jon and Jaqen with narrowed eyes but then put his arm around her. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

“Why did you do that?!” Jon snarled as soon as she passed from his sight and her inner voice was beyond his reach.

The demon that lived inside was coming out. He could hear it in his voice, a fierce and rumbling growl. He could smell it, the reek of death and rot that clung to his kind that no mortal could detect. He could taste a hint of copper as his eye teeth began to lengthen. His hands were curling into fists and the rage was consuming coherent thought. But most of it was aimed at himself as usual.

He’d fucked everything up from the moment the server had arrived. Before then actually…He hadn’t been able to resist touching her when he knew he shouldn’t. Feeling her pulse through her delicate wrist, the beast within started to salivate with hunger but that part of him that was still a man just wanted her like a man wants a woman. He felt himself growing hard as he stroked her wrist and he had to stop.

Did I really try to seduce her then? Never before had he tried seducing a mortal. But the timbre of his voice, the slow, methodical touch to her wrist, his intense gaze…all of these were weapons a vampire could use to seduce his prey whether he or she just wanted to feed or they wanted to fuck their prey first and then feed.

He tried to tell himself this was different. That perhaps there was something between them…some connection that made this special and not just about lust or hunger. She is pure and special. You most certainly are not.

He told himself he didn’t want to feed on her. But what would happen if the bloodlust came upon you unexpectedly? Would you be able to stop yourself if you had her writhing beneath you and the urge to feed took over? He wasn’t sure and it frightened him. I only know I never want to hurt her.

When the server arrived, that part of him that still existed and possessed something like a conscience, that hinted at the honorable man he might have once been, told him to back away, to stop touching Sansa and leave her alone. He withdrew his hand and withdrew himself as much as possible without actually standing up and walking out the door without a word. She’d been hurt by his silence and sudden change in behavior and that had hurt him…but not as much as it would hurt if he let this go too far. He knew it was for the best that she left with her brother. It would be for the best if he threw away her number, best to forget he ever met her, best to just walk away and never see her again. Are you that strong though?

He sat there wondering these things, while still furious over his thwarted desires. And, Jaqen sitting across from him and looking so pleased with himself wasn’t helping.

“Such rage, Jaehaerys. Why? I didn’t make her leave.”

“You made her uncomfortable. You purposely came here and refused to leave when I was telling you to go away and stay away in no uncertain terms. And stop calling me that name!” he finished in a barely contained roar. Curious heads turned in their direction but the look Jon gave them made the heads turn swiftly back around again.

“You were already making her uncomfortable before I even arrived. Admit it. You were frightened by what you were feeling. And, stop trying to read my thoughts. I’m blocking you.”

“You’re not all that good at blocking me,” Jon said in a lower voice full of malice.

Jaqen laughed and said, “No, I’m not. You are far better at it than any other of our kind I’ve ever met…except myself.” It was true. No one could read the minds of mortals or the undead like Jaqen. “Tell me, were you really thinking of marking that lovely girl?”

Jon felt like he’d been sucker punched…in the heart. Just like a drain that has been pulled, the rage was sucked out of him at once. His teeth returned to normal and Jon realized his anger was tied to his fear. And, watching her walk out the door with her brother’s arm around her shoulders had been exceedingly painful. The pain brought out the rage along with the fear.

“Yes, I was.” Why lie? You know anyway.

“All these years, you’ve never done so. You just met her tonight, did you not? I am not judging but why?”

“I’m not sure.” Jaqen looked at him with a curious smirk. I’m not lying. I don’t know why. And I can’t resist her scent. He clutched the napkin tighter and could smell her on it…and he felt something shift inside of him at the thought of her and the easy smiles she’d given him earlier before he’d ruined things.

“Perhaps you just need to satisfy other appetites,” Jaqen said.

“I’m planning to feed tonight,” Jon said under his breath. “And I know what you’re going to say. It’s been months since I’ve had anything but animals but I don’t like...”

“You mistake me. Those were not the appetites to which I was referring. But you must feed.” Jaqen looked around before continuing in a whisper, “And you need to feed on our natural prey tonight.” He pulled out some money to toss down on the table and rose. “I do as well. Shall we look for a lovely co-ed to share? Some sweet young thing to take your mind off Miss Stark?”

“No, I’m hungry for someone else tonight,” Jon said with a dark smile now. He’s young but not sweet at all.

Chapter Text

‘All the vampires walkin’ through the valley,

Move west down Ventura Boulevard,

All the bad boys are standing in the shadows,

And the good girls are home with broken hearts’

Free Fallin’-Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers

'Evildoers are easier, and they taste better.' -Lestat

From 'Interview with the Vampire'

Day of the Undead

Robb had quizzed her all the way to their parents’ house that night. ‘Who was he? How’d you meet him? Why did you call? Was he scaring you?’

Sansa answered as honestly as she could. ‘A man I met at a party tonight. I was a bit frightened but not necessarily of him. I had a shitty night and needed my family. But meeting Jon was the best part of my shitty night.’

If her parents were surprised at her appearance on their doorstep well past midnight still sporting her Black Widow costume, they didn’t show it. That was one of the many things she loved about her parents. They always just kind of accepted their kids…warts and all. And they were always happy to have them there.

Sansa’s father had drove her back to school Monday morning on his way to work. Margaery had been blowing up her phone and when they finally saw each other, Margaery shrieked at her.

“Where in the name of the Mother, Maiden and Crone have you been?”

"I went home for the weekend.  I texted you."

"I know but the way you left the party and then Asha said she never saw you...Did you meet somebody at the party?”

“Yes, I did meet someone.” Margaery exploded with giggles. “Oh, gods! Sansa! Did you go home with him on Friday?!”

“No, I went home with Robb.”

Margaery’s eyes got wide for a moment and then narrowed. “Uh, Sansa…you’re not one of those families, are you? You and Robb are awfully close.”

“Shut up now or I’m officially not speaking to you for the rest of the day.  Robb picked me up and drove me home.”

Margaery tossed her hair back with a laugh. “I’m just kidding! Your brother is hot though.”

I love you, Marg, but keep your talons off Robb. “You can discuss my brother’s hotness with his five girlfriends.”

“So, who did you meet?”

“He doesn’t go here. His name is Jon. He was nice and took me for coffee but nothing happened.” And I suppose it never will.

An hour later, Sansa was heading to class. The Dornish Center was hosting a ‘Day of the Undead’ party this coming Friday and Trystane Martell invited her to go in Art History. Sansa told him she’d check her plans. My nonexistent social plans. She wasn’t certain she wanted to go with him. He was kind of hot but he flirted with everyone. The rumors around campus made it sound like he was trying to sleep his way through the entire female student population…and was supposedly making some good progress on that. Maybe I’ll go. I don’t have to sleep with him to go out with him. And it’s not like I’ve got anything else to do…or anyone else asking me out, she thought glaring at her phone for the umpteenth time in since Friday night.

Old Professor Aemon cleared his throat noisily and drew Sansa’s attention back to their lesson of the legends of Westeros depicted in paintings. She looked up to see the latest work being projected on the whiteboard.

“Here we see a rendering of the Hero of the Dawn facing the White Walkers and the Army of the Dead during the Great War of the Last Age. Notice the soft blues the artist used to illustrate the Others and the use of black for the hero’s hair and cloak.”

Sansa did as she was bid but shuddered as she looked at the zombies (or wights as the professor had called them) in the foreground surrounding the hero as he faced the Night King, whose fellow White Walkers flanked him. The hero stood alone and held a flaming sword in his hand. His face was only visible in profile.

“Professor? Is there truth to the legends about the Walkers and the Hero?” Trystane asked.

“Truth? Well, certainly there could be truth in legends. Sometimes legends are merely history that time has forgotten as a truth. Just as sometimes legend becomes history when the wrong people are left to tend to it.”

“But we can’t know, can we?” Sansa asked. “The Citadel’s original library was destroyed in the Great Fires 500 years ago. That was where all the history of the country was stored then…of all the way back when there were truly Seven Kingdoms and even history from the time of the First Men.”

“Yes, that’s true, too, Miss Stark. But the work that this image is taken from was found in this area many years ago, in the crypts of a ruined castle. It’s supposedly over 800 years old. Some think it’s even older.”

Trystane started humming the theme to “The Twilight Zone” and the class laughed, along with Professor Aemon.

Sansa looked back at the picture. The hero wore light armor, nothing very heavy. The sword was aflame. Just the artist’s imagination. His face seemed oddly familiar and stirred some emotion in Sansa. She felt an inexplicable tightening in her chest the longer she looked at him. His hair was dark and curly and hanging loose about his face.

Just his hair…it reminds me of Jon Snow a bit. That’s all it is…just a reminder of Jon Snow or Jaeharry What’s-really-your-name. And he’s surrounded by zombies. They are scary as fuck but the Night’s King is even worse.

And with that, Sansa decided she didn’t care all that much for the painting and was relieved when Professor Aemon went to the next work.

She was leaving Art History and reluctantly decided to take the shortcut past fraternity row since she was due at her next class soon. She hated making that walk. Leering frat guys would call out to her from their front porch. Like they ever have anything new to say. As if any self-respecting girl wants to be called out at like a piece of meat. Two girls ahead of Sansa burst into giggles after some guys from Tommen’s house called out to them and Sansa rolled her eyes.

Sansa saw Tommen standing on the sidewalk with a group of other frat guys. Some were from Tommen’s house and others she recognized from Joffrey’s. They weren’t shouting at any girls. They all looked rather subdued. I wasn’t even aware Tommen’s face could form any other expression besides that goofy grin he’s always wearing. Sansa…so nice.

“Hey, Sansa! You got a second?” he asked as he spotted her. “You haven’t seen Joffrey since Halloween, have you?”

“No,” she replied. She wanted to say something nasty like ‘and I’m glad of it, too’ but Tommen was shoving a flyer in her face. It was a picture of Joffrey (looking like a smug prick) and it said MISSING at the top.

“No one’s seen him since the party,” Tommen said. He had big, sad puppy dog eyes as he looked at her imploringly.

Aww…Tommen’s kind of sweet. I feel bad now. “Oh…no. I’ve not see him. You think he could’ve got in an accident or something?” she asked. But her mind was spinning now. I last saw him lying on the sidewalk…looking like he’d been knocked unconscious by the man I later had coffee with. Oh, and your shitty cousin grabbed my wrist and was going to hurt me before the man stopped him.  She wasn’t about to speak the words out loud. Besides, unconscious or not, Joffrey had been alive when they walked away. Anyone could’ve happened upon him. Probably some thief robbed him and drug him off into an alley and…put his body in a dumpster? Maybe Jon hit him hard enough that he got amnesia and he wandered off somewhere and he’ll turn up in a day or two? Yeah…that sounds about right. “I hope he turns up unharmed soon, Tommen,” she said as she gently patted his shoulder.

“Thanks, Sansa,” Tommen said without a smile as he turned back to his group and started handing out more fliers.

Watching Sansa walk out of the coffee shop with her brother’s arm around her and not following her had been one of the most difficult things Jon had ever done. The pull to follow her was unbearably fierce. How can I feel this strongly about someone I just met?

He had clutched the napkin she had handed him as he and Jaqen left the coffee shop soon afterwards. Her maddening scent was still heavy in the air around him and he needed to get outside and escape it before he was completely undone. Lavender and lemons and rain…why does it seem so familiar?

And, he had another problem. His cock was getting hard again just thinking of her and smelling her lingering scent on the napkin. Other appetites indeed and I’ve not even fed in several days.

Over the centuries, Jon had found that his sexual desire was increased when he was freshly fed and his appetite for blood was sated. Well, I’m used to taking matters into my own hands by now, he thought wryly. Sexual intercourse with a mortal was a bit frowned upon in their ‘community’ but it was hardly forbidden.  But, Jon had never acted on any such urges since becoming what he was. Theon loved to tease him for being the most maidenly vampire in Westeros.

So, no…he hadn’t fucked a woman in a good long while to say the least. He laughed to himself as he walked along, trying to imagine having a hypothetical conversation with friends over beers and talking about his sex life.

‘How long’s it been, Jon?’

‘Oh, just a millennium. Give or take a few decades.'

He’d not had a woman that way since he was still just a man. A virgin all over again.

He had slowly accepted killing humans to feed over time but he preferred to make do with animals. It was something Jaqen had forced on them all since they’d moved to Wintertown thirteen years earlier. Living in a small town was nice but they couldn’t start decimating the population with mysterious disappearances and deaths either. “Pick and choose, my children,” he had told them. “A few nights a year, you can take what you want but we must not be greedy.”

Jon was still angry with Jaqen over his interference with Sansa tonight and he didn’t want to share this kill anyway. So, when Jon had turned towards fraternity row, Jaqen had bowed and said, “Happy hunting,” before disappearing into the night.

Having someone around who could read your thoughts was so frustrating at times. Jon imagined the others surely felt the same about him. A rare and precious gift…I’d just as soon have my memories back.

It wasn’t Jaqen’s fault though. He never knew what gifts a newly made vampire would have when he changed them. And, he’d only changed Jon out of love for his mate.

Melisandre had known Jon in his former life and, at his untimely death at the age of four and twenty, she had begged Jaqen to change Jon for her. She was not capable of it. She was a Red Priestess, or a red witch. She had brought Jon back from the dead once before but, when he died the second time, her magic had not been able to bring him back to a mortal life, so she’d asked Jaqen to change him.

So, some vampires had gifts for reasons unknown and others were only predators…albeit, immortal predators. Jaqen had already left the Faceless Men when he met Melisandre. Jon assumed that it must’ve been his former coven but there was no telling with Jaqen. He was still a mystery in many ways despite all the centuries that had passed. Being able to read minds hadn’t really helped him learn more of Jaqen because the man was good at keeping things he didn’t wish known hidden, even from Jon.

He and Melisandre were different as could be in some respects and alike in others. She was an enigma in many ways like Jaqen and she still spoke of her Red God. Jaqen never spoke of gods anymore. Once he had but he seemed to have lost faith in them over the years. Whatever had drawn the two of them together, they had mated and formed a strong bond before Jon had been changed.

Jon could not see that ever happening to him.  Well, not until recently. Jaqen had changed Jon for her and together they taught Jon about his new life. My strange new parents in my strange new life.

Two hundred years after Jon was born to this life, they had come across Theon. He had been a pitiable thing, mistreated abominably for past treasons and sins until he was only a shell of the man he had been. Jaqen had taken pity on his wretchedness and had changed him. Jaqen can be a bit of a softie…for a vampire. Upon his awakening, Theon lost that cringing fear that years of torture had instilled and reveled in strength returned and increased a hundred times over. He possessed no exceptional gifts, but for Theon, this immortal life was a gift. He was only a predator but the closest thing Jon had to a brother though they did not always agree so well. I wonder if I ever truly had a brother…or a sister.

The final member of their coven was Myranda, who had joined their family around 300 years ago. She had been a disturbed girl in her former life and, as was common during the time-period in which she lived, she had been horribly mistreated because of her mental illness. The villagers where she had grown up had eventually drowned her for being a witch. She wasn’t a witch but the small minded and superstitious villagers had drowned her all the same. Melisandre had a soft spot of her own for witches, or supposed-witches anyway, and had asked Jaqen to change Myranda. When she awoke to her new life, her lovely eyes glittered with lust and malice. Her hate and desire for revenge had been horrifying to behold. An entire village wiped out in single night.

Melisandre had hoped that Jon or Theon might mate with Myranda in time but Jon did not desire Myranda…she enjoys killing far too much…and Myranda did not desire Theon. So, a sister was added to their coven.

They became a little family or coven and they made things work well enough. Still, facing eternity with the same four individuals does get tedious. And, four vampires make an extremely small coven. And since Melisandre was still a mortal…though an extremely old mortal with powers of her own…she made it a unique coven.

They were strong enough together to fight off any lone vampires with hostile intentions but they were nowhere near big enough to be a threat to larger covens. And the most powerful covens would likely never even notice them. They were mostly left in peace and that was the way Jaqen (and Jon) preferred things.

Jon had easily found the boy just past midnight. He was nursing his jaw and walking back towards his own fraternity house. Rage was pouring off him in waves again. ‘Sansa Stark…that fucking bitch. She must’ve hit me with something. I’ll make her pay. I know where to find her…’  Jon had started stalking him slowly at first but he drew nearer allowing Joffrey to notice him. ‘I’ll fuck that bitch bloody…probably still a virgin…so prickly when I got my hand up her skirt that time. Wait…is this guy following me? He keeps getting closer.

“Hey, do I know you?” Joffrey asked. Jon didn’t answer. Joffrey started snickering to himself. ‘Drunk creep…maybe he’s gay…’ Joffrey turned to look back as Jon drew closer. “Hey, buddy. I’m not interested if that’s what you’re thinking.” Jon said nothing and kept following but he allowed a small smile to form on his face…the kind of smile that had frightened bolder men than Joffrey. ‘Shit, this guy is giving me the creeps.’

As the fear mounted, Joffrey broke into a little run. Jon let him run on ahead. Perhaps it’s not polite to play with your food but it can be amusing. He liked to let him think he might get away. Joffrey was panting as he rounded the darkened corner to his house and Jon was there casually waiting on him, having already sped around the long way. The boy’s confusion and horror were palatable. When Jon opened his mouth to reveal his fangs, Joffrey had opened his own mouth to scream. Jon reveled in the fear coursing through Joffrey now. He snapped the boy’s neck with one hand before a sound even emerged and then he fed. Not the sweetest meal but a meal all the same.

He had disposed of Joffrey’s corpse miles from campus in the woods. Let the wolves and shadow cats fight over him. Let the crows, maggots and vermin feast on what is left. He deserved this. He wanted to hurt her.

Still, the remorse was with him all the way back home and he felt a bit sick. ‘I don’t know that there’s a prescription for that kind of stomach ache,’ Theon had joked once when Jon confessed how the guilt of killing always made his stomach hurt afterward taking a human.

When he woke the next day, his guilt had burned off as it usually did. And he was alive with the desire to call her, to see her. But what would I say? I have nothing to offer her that could even remotely be called a normal relationship.

He pulled out the napkin with Sansa’s phone number on it. He inhaled her scent and then started stroking himself. He could see her in his mind’s eye and smell her essence. He could hear her voice in his head. His hand moved more rapidly over his hard cock and he moaned her name. When he came, he was panting as though he still needed oxygen to breathe and his fangs came out. Well, that doesn’t happen every time. Actually, that’s never happened before.

But by the evening, the napkin had lost her scent.

Monday came and he returned to campus to find her, to follow her. If Jaqen knew or suspected what he was doing, he said nothing. And the others were used to Jon’s unusual interests and hours.

He had spotted her speaking to a blond-haired boy. She had patted his shoulder and then walked away. He had followed in the shadows and watched her enter a classroom. He could smell her but he couldn’t read her thoughts from this distance. He was aching with the need to see her and speak to her…to hear her voice again just from her scent alone. But he kept his distance, too afraid of what he would do if he got what he wanted. Too afraid of losing control with her. What part of you would lose control first? The man or the monster?

Friday…one week and no phone call. What a surprise.

So, she’d agreed to go to the Day of the Undead festival with Trystane but invited Asha along to clarify that this was not a date. You seem nice but I don’t want to be the latest notch in your belt.

They stood in the large crowd watching several of the Dornish students from campus dance and make their way down the street towards the Student Center. Some were in black robes with skeleton masks and some were in zombie costumes. There’s that fucker from ‘Scream’ again. Why did I agree to come to this again? Isn’t Halloween enough?

It was fully dark out and Sansa was cold, even in her fleece jacket and blue jeans. She’d opted for sensible shoes tonight at least. If I need to flee from any weird or overbearing guys tonight, at least I’ll be able to run in comfort.

The festival was starting to break up and, as she stood in the crowd next to Trystane and Asha, she felt a shiver pass through her that seemed unconnected to the temperature. She had the strangest feeling she was being watched. Her head turned slowly around and she scanned the crowd of faces. She turned back around and looked ahead of her, past the revelers in their costumes. For an instant, she thought she spied a familiar face but when she looked closer there was no one there. It was strange. She’d had that feeling at different times throughout the week. You’re imagining things, Scaredy-Cat Sansa.

“Sansa?” Asha asked putting a hand on her shoulder. Sansa jumped like she’d been shocked. “Shit, girl…relax,” Asha laughed.

“Sorry. Ready to go home?” she asked.

“No…gods, you’ve not been listening at all the past several minutes. Trystane’s asking if we want to go to dinner. He’s offering to take us to that Dornish place downtown.”

“Oh…well, you can go if you want,” Sansa said still trying to shake that funny feeling.

“Come on, go with us. It’s supposed to be good. And Trystane knows the owner and says we can all get drinks without getting carded there.” Sansa thought she might still prefer to just go back to the dorm until Asha continued, “Besides, Margaery’s got Tommen over. Said he needed a little comforting.”

Of course, she does. Why would I think I could just go back to my room and cry into my pillow over the guy that will never call? “That is weird about Joffrey, huh?” Sansa asked nonchalantly.

“Well, yeah…but he’ll probably turn up. Assholes like him usually do.”

Trystane drove them away from campus to the restaurant downtown that his uncle owned. It was certainly authentic as most of the patrons were Dornish and the wine was flowing freely…and so was the tequila and rum.

Three glasses of Dornish wine and a shot of Jose Cuervo later, Sansa was good and truly drunk for the first time in her life. I don’t see what the big deal is. I feel fine…more than fine. I feel happy…and confident. Yeah, that’s a good thing so I think alcohol agrees with me just fine, thank you very much. I feel a bit tingly though and everyone is suddenly ten times better looking.

Trystane was smiling at her and nursing a beer. Asha was sipping her rum and coke and watching Trystane closely.

“This place is really great!” Sansa shouted.

“You like it?” Trystane said with a playful little grin.

“Sansa, you don’t have to shout,” Asha said.

“I’m not shouting!”

“Uh…yes, you are,” Asha said.

“I’ve never been drunk before!” Sansa said next. Trystane arched his brows and grinned wider.

“No shit,” Asha snickered. “Hey, lover boy…don’t get any ideas,” she barked at Trystane next. He threw up his hands in surrender.

“I love you guys sooooo much! You are both the best!”

“Honey, I think we better take you on home,” Asha said.

“No! I love it here! Hey, hey…Trystane, hypothetical question time…if I gave you my phone number, you’d call me, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course, I would,” he answered and Asha poked him in the ribs and wagged her finger at him.

Trystane and Asha started having some sort of argument and Sansa glanced over at the little stage. Three drunk guys were singing karaoke in the corner near the bar. They couldn’t sing so well but they belted out ‘Y.M.C.A’ with plenty of heart and Sansa stood up to dance along with them.

“Shit, Sansa! Sit the fuck down,” Asha said tugging at her shirt.

“Oh, come on! Asha, you talked me into coming here! Let’s go sing! I’ll bet we’re way better than those guys!”

“No fucking way,” Asha said.

“Chicken?” Sansa smirked at the way Asha’s eyes narrowed. One thing about Asha…she did not like to be called a coward.

“Gods, I should’ve made Marg come tonight,” Asha muttered. “Seven fucking hells…let’s go!” she shouted, downing the rest of her drink. Sansa clapped and jumped up and down before tearing off her jacket.

Trystane laughed and said, “I can’t wait to see this.”

Sansa marched up to the machine like a woman on a mission. “That one!” she giggled as she read the title.

“A country song, Sansa? Seriously?” Asha groaned.

“This crowd will eat it up, Asha.”

Sansa smoothed down the tight, red turtle neck she’d had on under her jacket and her skinny jeans. She punched the button and grabbed the mike. She started swiveling her hips and tossing her hair as the country music started blaring. There were already some guys moving closer to the little stage to get a better look. Sansa winked at Trystane, who held up his phone to record them, and started belting out the lyrics.

‘She said, I’m goin’ out with my girlfriends

Margaritas at the Holiday Inn.

Oh, mercy my only thought was

Tequila makes her clothes fall off.’

They were eating it up. Sansa felt powerful and alive…and sexy. She belted out the next two verses as Asha stood behind her and mumbled the words. Who’s the wallflower now? The men were all hollering, getting louder with each line.

‘Them pantyhose ain’t gonna last too long

If the DJ puts Bon Jovi on.

She might come home in a tablecloth

Yea, tequila makes her clothes fall off.’

When the song was over, Sansa wondered if this was what it was like to be a rock star. It was addictive to have a crowd clamoring for you. She felt high…like fucking King Kong or something.

“Take off your top!” one guy shouted.

Sansa laughed.  I'm not that drunk, buddy.  But, she threw the microphone at him but then there was a surge of movement in the crowd and some men had started shoving each other. The man that had called out to her fell onto the little stage knocking Sansa to the ground. She was surrounded by a sea of legs as a scuffle had broken out and there were shouts and screams. She heard Asha calling for her but someone stepped on her hand and then she got a knee to the side of the head. She felt hands on her and she tried to fight whoever this was off. But he was stronger than she would’ve believed and before she knew it she was being shoved through a door and was outside in the cold.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” she shouted as she tried to break free of his grip.

She pulled back and finally got a good look at who was holding her…and then she vomited all over his shoes.

What the fuck is he doing here? And why is he holding my hair? Oh, right… “Oh, gods,” she moaned as another wave of nausea hit her. Every drop of wine and tequila wanted out…like right now.

He was gently patting her back and he asked, “Are you feeling any better?”

Jon Fucking Snow…what the fuck? And this is how he gets to see you, Sansa… “What are you doing here!?” she shouted, backing away from him.

“I’m holding your hair now, Sansa. It’s very lovely but so long. It would be a shame to get it covered in sick.”

Fuck. You. “Why are you here?”

“You should put on your jacket. It’s cold out here,” he said handing over her fleece.

“Where did you…how do you have my jacket? Did you know I was here? Because I’m starting to doubt that you being here is just a coincidence.” He didn’t answer her and he was looking at the ground…and his shoes that she’d puked all over. For some reason, it just pissed her off. “Are you going to answer any of my questions!?”

At that moment, Asha and Trystane came out the backdoor she had obviously been pulled through by Jon. “Sansa, are you alright?” Asha asked as Trystane asked, “Is this man bothering you?”

Sansa looked back at Jon and wasn’t sure of the answer to either question. “I’m alright.”

“Shall we go then?” Asha asked, eyeing Jon with suspicion.

“I can drive her home. If she doesn’t mind…” Jon said.

If I don’t mind…my, my, my, just little Mr. Manners again, aren’t we?

“Look, I don’t know who you are…” Asha began.

“It’s alright, Asha. I know him. Just give us a minute.”

“We’ll wait for you at the car,” Trystane said.

Once they left, that pissed off feeling came right back and Sansa turned on him, jabbing her finger down at his chest…which felt like a brick wall…and shouted, “Why are you really here!? And what happened in there?” He started to respond when her lowered inhibitions got the better of her and she said in a quieter tone, “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Uh…I wanted to but…”

“Do you know how it feels to give someone your number and not get a call? No, you probably don’t…fucker,” she mumbled. Jon looked chagrined and reached up to push a stray curl back behind his ear. Why do you have to be so damned hot and adorable? I’d really like to run my hands through your hair…wait, no…no, I wouldn’t! I’m still pissed at you. And then he did it. He laughed….and Sansa snapped. “Gods! You are so fucking infuriating!”

She shoved him hard then. He should’ve at least stumbled backwards a bit. But he was like a boulder standing there. He felt like a boulder, all muscles and steel. Wonder what he looks like without any clothes on? I’ll bet he’s really cut. Shit, Sansa, not the fucking point right now, girl!

“You know what? Don’t answer my questions…I really don’t think I’d care for the answers. I’m leaving. Please don’t call me. Just leave me alone, Jon Snow.” Sansa turned to head back in to the restaurant. She had her hand on the door handle when he spoke.

“Sansa, don’t go,” he said.  His husky voice was soft but there was something so...needful in his plea. “Please, don’t go. I didn’t just happen to be here. I, uh…I followed you.”

Oh shit.

Chapter Text

‘Don’t ever invite a vampire into your house, you silly boy. It renders you powerless.’ -Max, “The Lost Boys”

‘Do you believe in destiny? That even the powers of time can be altered for a single purpose?’- Dracula, “Bram Stoker’s Dracula”

Trust & Memory

He had dogged her steps from a distance all day and watched her at the festival. When she left with her friends, he had followed them in his car. He had sat in a corner booth at the restaurant by himself, sipping a glass of sour Dornish wine watching Sansa get drunk. She’s only a college girl…what would I expect?

He was not pleased though. He could not seem to read her thoughts with so many others around. It was like trying to listen to a radio and getting nothing but static. And, he wanted to hear her so badly. The only thoughts he was hearing from their table, the dark-haired boy’s lecherous thoughts about Sansa, were enraging him. Why does it anger me? Lust and desire…I hear it constantly in the presence of mortals. She is beautiful and men are men. She doesn’t belong to me…despite how often I think of her.

Then, she had done something completely unexpected. She had got up and sang that suggestive song in front of everyone…in front of that group of men. It did not seem like something she would normally do but what would he know? He blamed the alcohol and watched more closely.

Jon could read the thoughts of the men there that were watching Sansa and he hated everything he was hearing inside his head now. None of them seemed to be paying a bit of attention to her friend. All their eyes and thoughts were on Sansa. Red hair, red lips, hips swaying to the music and that suggestive pout…gods, I need to get her out of here and away from them all.

The straw that broke the camel’s back came when the drunken fool had suggested she take off her shirt. Whatever lunacy passed through the crowd at that moment, there were a few who were considering ‘helping’ Sansa take off her top, whether she willed it or no. And, others were just ready to fight. Fuck or fight or both.

Jon realized the situation was rapidly spiraling out of control. He had moved with blinding speed through the crowd, shoving his way to the front of them which started the men swinging at one another not knowing who had shoved them. The moment he put his hands on her waist he wanted to sigh with relief. She was safe and he could read her again. He felt the euphoria and feelings of sexual power still vibrating through her with her performance but then he felt her confusion and anger when he rushed her out the back door. Her scent was so rousing this close and her soft body under his hands was enticing. He’d not touched anything more than her hand the other night. That had been exciting enough to make him hard. Feeling her waist through her turtleneck, was overwhelming and he slid his hands briefly under the hem of her shirt to caress her smooth stomach with his fingertips knowing he was only ensnaring himself further.

But the moment she got sick, Jon only felt an intense desire to protect and care for her. Then came her wrath…and the underlying pain and insecurity.

She’s hurt and angry I didn’t call, he realized, amazed and thrilled that she’d obviously thought of him. Probably nowhere near as much as I have obsessed over you the past week though.

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips when she had softened towards him momentarily and of course that had made her angrier. It was just his pure delight in being near her and hearing her sweet inner voice again but it came out at the wrong time and she shoved him. She started to leave and Jon knew he must stop her.

“Sansa, don’t go,” he had said. “Please, don’t go. I didn’t just happen to be here. I, uh…I followed you.” She was afraid then. Well, wouldn’t you be, Jon? If you were a young woman and some man you barely knew admitted he’d been following you, I’m sure you’d be afraid, too. “I don’t mean it like that…well, I do. I did follow you. Sansa, I wanted to call but I was afraid. Afraid you’d change your mind about seeing me. So, I followed you and your friends and watched you…but I should’ve just called instead of being that weird guy that followed you.”

Her smile was a bit uncertain but he was relieved to see it nonetheless. “Why would I change my mind about seeing you? I gave you my number.”

“I know. Permit me to say that I’m quite terrible at this.” I’m hundreds of years out of practice and I have no idea if I was ever any good at this. Most likely not. “Please, will you let me drive you home?”

“I shouldn’t,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. But, how happy that moment of hesitation had made him. “I don’t really know you all that well and…”

“And getting into a car with a man you barely know who admits he’s been following you around all week…”

“You’ve been following me all week?!” she cried, clearly alarmed once more. ‘Holy Fucking Shit! Where are Asha and Trystane?!’

Seven Fucking Hells! “Uhhhh…yes,” he said sheepishly, not believing the depths of his own stupidity. I ought to have my tongue removed. Gods, I don’t care if I live 3000 years, I am never telling Theon this. “Sansa, I am sorry. Ah, fuck…I know I sound like the worst sort of creep and I don’t blame you if you never want to see me again…or if you wish to call the police.” She relaxed…slightly and he continued, “But, I promise I mean you no harm.” I’d do anything to protect you. “Will you give me another chance? I swear I’ll stop acting like such a fool and a psycho.”

He saw her considering him and better yet…he heard her. ‘I don’t think he means any harm but aren’t I violating Smart Girl 101 if I don’t leave at once…and call the police? He makes me feel safe in a strange way though. Why is that? And, you did throw up on his shoes...you could give him another chance.’

“Do you always wear black?” she asked.

“What?”

“You’re wearing all black again. Do you always wear black?”

“No…well, quite a bit, I suppose,” he said self-consciously, wondering what the point of this line of questioning was. Just because you can read a woman’s mind does not mean you understand her, Jon. “I can wear another color if you like. I’d dress like a clown if it meant you’d give me a chance.”

She shivered and said, “No clowns! Clowns are fucking creepy!”

“Alright…no clowns,” he said smiling at her.

She smiled back at him and said, “Drive me home, Jon, and I’ll think about giving you another chance. I’m drunk and I need a ride. I might get sick again and I’d hate to throw up in Trystane’s car. If I get sick all over your car, it’ll be your fault for offering me a ride. But, I am sorry about your shoes.”

He nodded while thinking that he liked not always knowing what she would say next. It was refreshing to be surprised.

Convincing Sansa to go with him had been one thing. Her friend on the other hand, looked ready to scratch his eyes out. ‘If you hurt her, I will hunt you down and eat your liver.’

Well, at least I know she’s got Sansa’s best interests at heart.

The boy was bristling with hostility but it was clearly more about his own plans getting scrapped than anything.

Jon looked in the rearview mirror and smirked when he realized they were following him. No doubt the girl is making sure I actually take her back to campus. He could easily lose them if he wanted but he wouldn’t drive like that with Sansa in the car and he admired the spunky young woman’s desire to protect Sansa.

He glanced over to the passenger seat where Sansa was snoring softly now, the alcohol having brought on a nap. He could sense her dreams. It wasn’t the same as reading her thoughts but he would get flashes of images and feelings from time to time. He was pleased when he appeared in her dreams…but less so when he realized there was some anger and fear surrounding her thoughts of him in her dreams.

He parked in the visitor’s lot and turned to look at her. I could sit here all night and watch you sleeping. Her scent permeated his car and his senses…along with the drying vomit on his shoes. He reached out to stroke her hair that felt like the softest strands of silk and glimmered like fire even in the darkened car.

Just then a car door slammed nearby and Jon could feel rather than see Asha stalking towards him. He was partly annoyed at the interruption but he reminded himself that she was acting out of concern for her friend. He exited his car just as she walked up to him.

“I can take her from here,” she said gruffly.

“She’s asleep,” he replied.

Plainly irritated, she relented and said, “Fine…you can help me get her inside.”

The boy muttered a good night and stalked off towards his residence. Better luck next time, Trystane…just not with Sansa.

Jon darted around to the passenger side and tried to make it appear that lifting and carrying Sansa was at least something of an effort for him. She felt like no more a bundle of clothes in his arms though.

Sansa let out a loud snore and Asha chuckled despite her displeasure with him being there. “She is going to have a massive headache in the morning. It’s a good thing it’s the weekend. So, are you Jon?” she asked, pulling out some gum.

“I am. Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier.”

“I’m Asha. Want some?” she asked handing him a piece. He nodded. Yes...we don’t exactly have the sweetest breath most of the time. “She really did a number on your shoes,” she said pointing.

“Yes…well, they’re only shoes,” he said popping the gum in his mouth. Bleh…watermelon. It’s so cloyingly sweet. How do they stand this? “How did you know my name?”

“Sansa told Margaery she’d met a man named Jon at that stupid party last week. She doesn’t mention guys very much so Marg and I figured you must’ve checked all her boxes.” What exactly does that mean? “And, she’s been down all week and staring at her phone a lot. I can put two and two together as well as any woman.”

“Well, I did want to call,” he said following her inside the building. “I tend to get a bit shy around beautiful women is all.” He didn’t miss her friend’s doubtful expression. I swear it’s true.

He ignored the stares of the other young women inside but he could hear their thoughts. He knew women found him attractive and it rarely made him uncomfortable anymore when he heard the kinds of thoughts he was hearing now. They were very curious about him carrying Sansa though.

She started to awaken on the stairs and smiled up at him. “Hey…you didn’t disappear,” she said softly and something inside of him felt a painful twist. Almost as if I still possessed a beating heart.

“No, I didn’t,” he replied quietly. He could’ve set her down and let her walk but he didn’t want to and Sansa didn’t seem eager to leave his arms.

Asha let out a huff at them both. “Here’s our dorm. No ribbon…thank the gods,” she added under the breath.

She unlocked the door and he paused at the threshold with Sansa still in his arms. “May I come in?” he asked deliberately.

Asha raised her eye brows incredulously at him and said, “Duh…of course. Come on in.”

Thank you, Asha.

He stepped into their room. There was a small entryway and then the living space that contained three twin beds, three desks, a closet space and a small bathroom.

“Which bed is yours?” he asked Sansa. He could tell immediately. It smelled like her. I’d like to lie down in it and just be swallowed by her scent. They’d probably consider that a bit odd though.

“That one,” Sansa said pointing. He laid her down on top of the covers and stood back uncertainly. Will they ask me to leave now? I don’t want to leave. “Asha,” she said next without taking her eyes off him. “Would you mind if…”

“Ugh…gods! Well, I suppose you wait around enough for me. I’ll go to the coffee shop for an hour or so, alright?”

Once Asha had left, Sansa told him to take off his shoes. She attempted to wash them off in the shower which probably ruined the leather but he honestly didn’t care. She looked concerned over them and he reassured her it was fine. She finally gave up and sat them in the entryway.

“I’m going to take a quick shower if you don’t mind. Will you stay?" she asked.

“Of course,” he said sitting down on the edge of her bed. As soon as she was in the shower, he flopped back on her pillow and inhaled deeply. Keep it together, Jon. If she walks out here to find you jacking off on her bed, she will surely scream bloody murder and be running from you all her life.

He sat back up and could hear her humming the tequila song in the shower and smiled to himself. He busied himself by looking at the pictures on her desk by her bed. There was one of a middle-aged couple, her parents certainly, one of Sansa with the brother, Robb. And one of Sansa, Robb and what must be her younger siblings and a couple of dogs. A happy family, Jon. She’s better off without you.

The shower cut off and Sansa came out of the bathroom wearing a fluffy, pink bathrobe with her long hair still damp. She looked him over with an appraising eye. ‘Ribbon time, Sansa.’

Oh, gods, he thought as she walked over to one of the other girls’ desks and plucked up the scarlet ribbon. She headed to the door and opened it a crack before coming back to sit next to him on her bed. She flashed him a brilliant smile and scooted closer.

“Jon…” she began.

“Sansa, I’m not sure this is a good idea. You had quite a bit to drink earlier and I don’t want to take advantage of you.” He could tell by her expression she was disappointed. Some tempting creature you are, Jon. She wants you to kiss her. You want to kiss her. What are you waiting for?

“Jon…” she started again, taking his hand. “I like you. I think you like me. Don’t you want to kiss me?”

“Of course, I do. I’m the one that, uh…followed you around all week.”

“That acted like a creepy stalker, you mean.”

“Yes, I did that,” he laughed, “and I didn’t call and I…”

She raised a finger to his lips and he could hear the blood coursing through her finger. Such a small and delicate thing her finger was. So little skin between his lips and the blood that he could almost taste. No! That’s not what I want. Please…that’s not what I want to want anyway.

“Please, Jon…let’s not overthink something as simple as a kiss.”

He could not resist her plea. Her pure voice and blue eyes silenced the beast within and he wanted nothing more than her kiss now. He reached up to cup her face in his hands and licked his lips. Sansa’s eyes dipped to his lips before she licked her own and parted them slightly. When her eyes met his again, he leaned in. He saw her eyes fluttered closed and could see the delicate pattern of veins across her eyelids right before he closed his own. But when he touched his lips to hers, the world melted way before him and he lost consciousness.

~~~~~~

They had been quarreling…again. They were trapped in this task, this impossible task. They could not turn back now. There would be no returning to Castle Black at this point. And, all they had done the past two days was quarrel. How to gain men to their cause…who to trust…these were the things driving them both mad. She was certain of their cause and felt confident they would win. Jon was certain of nothing. He’d felt that way since the Red Woman had brought him back from the dead.

He had only meant to shush her when he kissed her. He had meant to press a quick kiss to her lips to silence her arguments before saying what he wanted to say. He knew it was improper to kiss his half-sister but it would be a lie to say it wasn’t something that he had wanted.

He grabbed her by her arms and pulled her to him, clasping his lips to hers before she had a chance to do more than gasp. But instead of the quick kiss he had planned, he lingered there over her soft lips, melding his mouth to hers. Sansa had sighed and he was undone. He slipped his tongue in her mouth to taste her…

They jumped apart at the sudden shout outside, “Lord Commander! A raven has arrived for you!”

Jon pulled a hand over his face and muttered, “Seven bloody hells.”

Sansa was staring at him wide-eyed. She was still a bit angry from their argument but she was also blushing. She reached up slowly and touched her lips.

~~~~~~

Jon laid on her bed surrounded by her scent. He could hear her heart pounding in her chest. He turned his head towards her expecting to see her looking at him concernedly and perhaps baffled by his sudden fainting spell. Instead, she was lying beside him on the narrow bed, staring at the ceiling and touching her lips. He started to speak but she beat him to it.

“Jon…what was that?”

“I’m sorry, Sansa. I’m not sure…I must’ve passed out or something.” A vampire who faints…such a sorry thing you are, Jon.

“No…the other part. Was it a dream? It seemed real though. You were in a furry cloak and dressed differently. We were standing in a large but dingy room…or perhaps it was a tent. There were candles burning and you kissed me. We were arguing about something and then you kissed me. And then, someone was shouting…”

No…that’s not possible. “Sansa…you saw what I saw?”

She looked at him and nodded. “What was that?”

“I don’t know.” I don’t remember anymore.

Melisandre had told him some things but kept other things to herself. And while Jon could read her mind well enough, he could not read her memories from that time. Unlike other mortals, Melisandre had powers of her own and Jon wondered if she was able to block him better than she let on.

The things she had told him seemed like the important things…at the time she had told them anyway. She claimed she had not known him all that well but had decided to help him because of visions she had had about him in her fires.

She told him he had been Lord Commander of the Nights Watch…whatever that was. Some of his men had killed him when he was two and twenty and Melisandre had brought him back through the magic she practiced as a Red Witch. She said she was one of his advisors but then someone had parted them against his wishes. It was during that time that she had met Jaqen. She said they had been reunited when Jon had fought the Great War for the Dawn against the White Walkers. ‘Evil, cold things that sought to destroy the living and bring darkness to the world.’

She told him he had died destroying the Night’s King and, when her god’s magic did not work a second time, she had asked Jaqen to change him. At least, that’s what they told me. Why was Sansa there? Would Melisandre know her?

“Could it…this sounds crazy but could it have been a memory from another life?” Sansa asked.

He wanted to scoff at her reincarnation theory but he couldn’t. He had lived too long like this not to be aware of such things. He just never expected to encounter it personally.

“I don’t know. Maybe we just imagined it,” he said. “Folie à deux.”

“I got drunk earlier but you didn’t. And how could we have imagined the same thing?” Jon didn’t know that either so he just stayed quiet. They lay there together a long time as her heart beat and breathing slowed. Jon reached for her hand to hold. “Your hand is warm,” she said.

I fed earlier. Some chickens…probably not the way you would eat them. I had hoped I could warm you. “I’m not always cold,” he responded.

“Jon, do you think…if you tried to kiss me again…”

He wanted to kiss her again but he was a bit afraid now. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to see anymore from his past…their past. Why didn’t I remember her? She obviously was important to me…my half-sister.

Before he could decide on an answer though, she made her own decision. She rolled to her side and kissed him. There was no loss of consciousness this time, no flood of memories, just a sweet, chaste kiss. She pulled back from his lips with an adorably puzzled expression.

“You look disappointed,” he chuckled.

“Just confused,” she said with a smile.

“Perhaps you’ll let me clear your head then,” he said as he pulled her back to him.

He is a good kisser. I just knew he would be. Why be blessed with such adorably, pouty lips if you aren’t a good kisser? Why is he always laughing at me like that?

“What’s so funny now?” she asked irritably as Jon was trying hard to control his laughter.

“I’m sorry. I’m just…you make me happy and I’m…gods, I’m sorry.”

Sansa rolled her eyes at him. Still, she could live with his unexplained laughter if it meant he wasn’t going anywhere. They were pressed against one another on her bed and she thought she may have been kissed more in the past ten minutes that she had kissed anyone in her entire life. And that includes Harry.

Jon stilled suddenly and pulled back to look at her. Sansa was breathing hard and put her hand on his chest. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said.

But it was something. “Jon…did I do something…”

“No, you’re perfect,” he said as he leaned into kiss her again.

He pulled her back to him and she liked the way his strong, muscular arms held her tightly. She ran a hand through his soft, curls and parted her lips, inviting him to explore her mouth some more. His tongue was soon sweeping across her own. He teased and tasted and encouraged her to do the same. He tastes like watermelon gum but there’s something strange underneath it.

He stilled once more and his eyes flitted nervously to hers. She didn’t ask if something was wrong this time. She just returned to kissing him. He tastes better than Harry ever did. He always tasted of those sour cream and onion potato chips he loved so much.

“Sansa,” he said pulling back yet again. He shook his head almost like there was a gnat buzzing around his ear. “Are you…”

“Am I what?”

“Never mind,” he said.

She rolled to her back and sighed. “What, Jon?”

“I just was wondering if you’ve ever…”

“Had sex?”

“Well…yes.” She propped up on her elbow and stared at him.  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked,” he said uncomfortably.

“It’s okay. Yes, I have…a guy from high school. We dated for several months and he was persistent. I finally agreed. It wasn’t all that special. He never made me feel special once he got what he wanted, I mean. He broke up with me a few weeks later.”

“He sounds like the world’s biggest idiot and a total ass,” Jon said making her laugh. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable asking.”

“You didn’t…not really.”

“It’s just that you’re younger than I am. I didn’t want to push you. Not that I’m asking for that tonight!” he said clearly becoming more embarrassed with every word he was saying now. “Or ever if you don’t want it…gods, I should take a bloody vow of silence or something! I’d probably express myself better. I’m way out of practice at this!”

“Out of practice?” she teased. “For a minute, I was afraid you were going to try and tell me you’re a virgin.”

He gave a shaky laugh at that. “No…but it’s been a long time…a really long time.” Yeah, right. “And, I’m not lying about that. May I ask how old you are?”

“May you? You just asked if I’d had sex and now you’re uncomfortable about asking my age?”

“I told you I’m terrible at this,” he groaned as he collapsed beside her once more.

“I’ll be twenty next month. How old are you?”

Jon smiled a moment. “Far too old for you…Alright, I’m twenty-four! There’s no need to hit me!” he said laughing again as she struck him with her pillow.

“Okay…that’s not too old, I guess,” she said smirking at him. “Actually, my older brother’s twenty-four as well.” She watched him still lying there on her bed and chuckling at her. “I like listening to you laugh, Jon.”

“I like laughing with you. I never laugh like this at home.”

“At home? I figured you must live alone.”

“Uh…yes, I do.” That sounded like a lie. His eyes darted to hers and he licked his lips. “I was sharing a house with some people until recently though.”

“Oh…well, I can see why you might not go around laughing to yourself then. That’d be weird.”

He smiled and said, “Sansa, can I take you out on a date this weekend? I could take you that art exhibit in White Harbor. The one with the dragons from…”

“The Age of Conquest? Oh, I’d love that!”

“I know it’s a bit of a drive. We could eat there and make a day of it if you’d like.”

“Yes, I’d really enjoy that. You wouldn’t mind taking me all that way?” He shook his head and smiled. Wow, a date that involves an interest of mine…that’ll be a first.

They started kissing again. She could feel how hard his cock was as it was pressed into her stomach and Sansa was aching with desire once more. She was breathing heavily and running her hands across his chest and down his free arm. He had a hand cupping her face as he kissed her lips, then her jaw before working his way to her neck and behind her ear. Sansa’s robe had started to come undone. She had put her bra and panties back on after her shower and then opted for the bathrobe rather than putting her clothes back on. Seeing the way Jon’s eyes glittered as he saw her in her underwear made her feel beautiful and sexy…even more so than when she’d been singing earlier that night in front of the crowd.

When Jon reached up to cup a breast over her bra, he asked, “Is this alright?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “I like you touching me.”

She threw her leg over his hip as they kissed and started to rock against his erection. Her panties were soaking by this point and she heard Jon give a feral-sounding growl as she found her rhythm while he continued to fondle her breast and kiss her neck.

“Oh, Jon…” she moaned with pleasure as she fisted her hand through his hair wishing for more and yet not ready for everything. Without a spoken word, he rolled on top of her and started dry humping her. Her panties and his jeans were barriers. She wanted that delicious friction but the denim was a bit rough. “Take them off,” she whispered, looking down at his jeans.

He did at once. He was down to his boxer briefs and shirt alone and immediately got on top again after pushing her bathrobe out of the way to expose more of her.

“You’re so beautiful, Sansa,” he said with sweet reverence. He caressed her torso with his hand. “I’ve wanted…I want to see you come, my lovely.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist as he rocked against her, moaning with his every move.

“Kiss me, Jon.” He groaned again and moved his mouth back up to her lips and then to her neck as his fingers snaked through her hair. “Touch me,” she whispered. He stopped rocking his hips and moved his hand down her body. He was propped up above her on just an elbow and his knees but he didn’t seem strained. He slipped his hand under the band of her panties and began circling her clit. “Don’t stop,” she begged as he slid a finger inside of her and continued rubbing her bud just so. “Please…I want…”

His eyes were dark, nearly black, with desire now. She reached up to stroke him through his underwear and then pushed it down enough to put her hand on his cock. He gave a soft moan, a rumbling sort of sound through his chest that grew as she continued pumping his cock. And all the while, his hand was never still on her.

“Do you like that?” she purred as she felt her climax building.

“Fuck…yes,” he growled.

It was surely more of a growl than anything now. He started sucking at her neck and whispering words she couldn’t quite make out while his hand was busy in her panties making her even wetter if that were possible.

As her release erupted through her at last, she raked the fingernails of her free hand down his shoulder and cried out, “Oh fuck, Jon! Yes! YES!”

Her hand that was still on his cock slowed as she climaxed. She felt her toes curl and her body flushed with heat…and it felt like Jon was biting her neck. She gasped at the sensation as she rode out the shockwaves her of orgasm. She couldn’t say it felt unpleasant though. In fact, she rather liked it.

As she floated back down off her high, she was trying to catch her breath and grinning like a fool at him. She knew he’d not peaked but she planned on remedying that very soon. He was saying her name softly over and over like a mantra and watching her when he suddenly tensed…right before the door to her dorm flew open behind him. Are you fucking kidding me?!

Margaery burst in and then shrieked when she realized that Sansa was there with a man and neither of them had much in the way of clothes on at present.

“Oh, shit! Sansa, I thought I’d forgot to take the ribbon down…gods, I’m really sorry! I’ll give you a minute… or an hour!” Margaery shouted nearly tripping in her haste to back out of the room.

But Sansa was too shocked by what she’d seen in Jon’s face just then to say a word to her shocked friend. His dark eyes had grown darker…and not with lust now but with rage. They seemed to flash with some other light from within. They almost look red, she thought. He was beyond tense, more than annoyed or embarrassed by the interruption like most guys would be. He was angry…more than just angry. His wrath was nearly palatable and when he opened his mouth in what most resembled a snarl there was a whiff of some strange odor that made Sansa think of fire…and blood.

Whatever was there though…whatever she had thought she’d seen…was gone in an instant. His eyes were kind and soft again as he looked at her. He lowered his forehead to hers and let out a ragged breath. It no longer smelled strange. You’re imagining things, Sansa.

“I’m sorry, Sansa,” he breathed. He sounded sad, almost heartbroken.

“Why are you sorry? I’m the one that’s sorry about that. Roommates,” Sansa sighed.

“It’s alright, Sansa,” he said kissing her lips softly. “I just didn’t expect us to be interrupted. I should probably go on home.”

I don’t want you to leave. “No, don’t leave just yet. She can see what it’s like to sit out in the hall for a few minutes. Will you stay with me? Just for a bit?”

Jon gave her a gentle though sad smile and kissed her again. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

Chapter Text

‘Two thousand years and I can still be surprised.’ -Godric, ‘True Blood’

Love Remembered

I almost lost control.

You did lose control.

I didn’t mean to…

Listen to yourself! ‘I didn’t mean to?’ Will you say that when you crush her throat one day and feed on her life’s blood?

I would never do that!

You could. You’re a monster, Jon. You should’ve just left her alone.

But I can’t now…not anymore. I’ll never harm her. Stop talking to me and go away. I feel like Smeagol with you in my ear. And besides…it was the other one that I wanted to kill.

Jon silenced the debate of his conscience in his mind and watched Sansa emerge from the bathroom for the second time that night. She had put on some pajama type things. Jon wasn’t sure if they qualified as actual pajamas. They didn’t cover all that much. Her nipples were hard and nearly visible under the fitted tank top and the soft shorts she was wearing showed off every inch of her lusciously long legs…and a bit of her ass.

Gods, I want to stay all night and hold her…and fuck her. But he was content to just hold and kiss her some more. Lying here with her in my arms and being surrounded by her scent is enough pleasure for me tonight. A kiss from her lips, a nip from her teeth at my earlobe, her moan and her sigh. This is more pleasing than anything I could long for.

While Jon was still annoyed at the roommate’s interruption, he was no longer consumed by the ungovernable rage of earlier. He’d been overcome with the desire to feed, to feast on the girl. His eye teeth had started to lengthen and the brimstone in his blood had curdled.  He could smell it as it issued from his pores. He had the blood of Old Valyria and the blood of the Dragon in him, Melisandre had told him. The beast inside had wanted blood. It wouldn’t have mattered that Sansa was in the room…until he’d seen the flicker of fear and doubt in her eyes. Just a look alone had flipped some switch as easily as turning off a light.

She affects me in a way no mortal ever has. If that vision was truly something real…what was the depth of our bond?

He wanted more time with Sansa to find out. And he wanted more time alone with Sansa.

No privacy here. I can’t take her home…well, maybe. What would they all think of her? Would they understand what I’m feeling at all?

They had made their plans for Sunday and he’d given her his phone number in case she needed to contact him. Not that I will be far from you at any time. But Sunday…he would have her with him all day. He caught himself smiling widely at just the thought of it.

She was tired now though she didn’t wish to acknowledge it. But, the remaining alcohol and eventful night were making her drowsy. He held her close and promised to stay until she fell asleep. Even after she did, he held her, inhaling the scent of Sansa and feeling her heart beat under this hand. He listened to her mind winding down from coherent thought to slumber.

He looked at the mark he had left on her neck high up and nearly behind her right ear. Two very small punctures surrounded by a circle of flesh that had already bruised. He leaned in to kiss the spot on her neck because he wanted to…he didn’t like that he had bitten her. He spoke the ancient words again because he had to do so. He’d said them before the bite. He had to say them again to complete the act. To mark her as his in an attempt to shield her from his kind and to bind himself to her…to protect her for all of her life.

I’ll protect you, I promise.

Those were not the words but those words echoed in his head from out of nowhere and Jon felt something painful in his chest once more. Why does it hurt like this?

He knew…or suspected. He may not possess a beating heart but he still was capable of love. Did he not love his strange little family? Why should he not care for her or love her? He lay beside Sansa holding her close, pondering these questions and started to nod off. And on the edge of falling into that abyss of sleep and dreams, another vision struck.

~~~~~~

They were standing in the castle’s snowy courtyard. Her red hair was in a long braid and she wore a fur cloak. Her skin was so pale but it seemed right surrounded by the snow. There was only a feeble hint of the sun in the grey skies and snow was falling. There were snowflakes melting in her hair and that made him sad for some reason.

He was wearing light armor and he noticed the long sword on his hip. He pulled her up to him gently and kissed her lips. She had tears in her eyes. Her belly was round with child…our child.

Nearby, a hideous shriek broke the muffled silence of dawn and the falling snow and Sansa cringed. “Rhaegal is eager to be off,” he tried to jape. He’d never been the best at japes though and she’d merely given him a nod and half a smile.

He looked away from her. This was too much pain to bear. To leave her…again…not knowing if he would return and not wanting to think what would happen if he failed and could not return. ‘I’d fly you south, as far as south goes, and we’d hide from them for as long as we could.’

“Please come back,” she whispered then, breaking in upon his musings and staring at him with those blue eyes that could peer into any corner of his soul.

“I will. You must believe that I will,” he answered gruffly, not wanting emotion to take him away now.

“Your Grace?” someone called and he noticed there were men waiting on horseback for him.

“You must take care of yourself, my love,” he said, stroking her rounded belly with meaning. “Wait for my return. I promise I will return to you.”

“I’ll wait for you,” she said with heartbreaking resignation. “I’ll wait for you forever.”

~~~~~

Jon sat up in a panic and looked around the room, not certain of where he was at first or anything really. What are you?

The answer came to him and he felt the heavy burden of his half-life as he looked at her sleeping sweetly and without care beside him. Jon felt such envy then. He longed to be like her, to feel things the way she did and to see only the things she could see. And as he looked at her, he saw a tear sliding down her cheek though she slept on. Did she see it, too? Feel it like I did?

He kissed the tear away and whispered, “I’m coming back. I promise.”

He rose and turned off the lights and left. He slipped quietly out the door after retrieving his shoes. The girl from earlier…the intruder…was sitting on the floor in the hall and jumped to her feet. He managed to give her a slight smile.

“Uh, hi…I’m Margaery. I’m really sorry about earlier,” she said sticking out her hand.

You smell quite good…her scent clings to you a bit. “I’m Jon,” he said shaking the offered hand while listening to her pulse and her thoughts. “Sansa is sleeping now.”

“Okay. Are you the guy she met at the party?” Jon just looked at her. He had a way with shutting up inquisitive types simply by staring at them…but not with Margaery it appeared. “I, uh…I’m just asking because Sansa’s a good friend and she’s not…she’s not like a lot of girls. She doesn’t sleep around…at all. She’d be really hurt if you just…you know, if it was just a fling for you…” she finally trailed off uncomfortably.

Your heart is in the right place then, Margaery. Perhaps I shall forgive you after all. “That’s not my intention with your friend. She’s not just a fling to me,” he said as he left. I marked her. I will follow her until the end of her life now.

Their house was not far from campus, only a fifteen-minute drive, but there was a small lake between their house and the school. Jon could see the back of the fraternity house where he'd met Sansa from their back deck though a human would not be able to. Jaqen had liked the house. It was isolated and close to the Wolfswood. Plenty of animals prowled the Wolfswood which kept them fed. Their nearest neighbor was nearly a mile away and they had signs posted warning against trespassers. And if anyone mistakenly or deliberately came onto their lands, Jaqen would see them off with a friendly but firm request to leave. And if that person did not take the hint then…well, Myranda was not the forgiving sort and she’d made more than one meal that way.

He arrived home to find only Melisandre there. Perfect.

She was at prayer. I suppose you’d call it that. She knelt before the fire and muttered old words to herself. Her face would get so close to the flames, Jon often wondered how she’d not been burned alive yet. She claimed she could not be burned but Jon doubted. He watched her and waited. He watched the flames dance across her red tresses, a deep, dark copper tone…not the brilliant, living fire like Sansa’s hair. He felt his fist clench in eagerness to question the witch and counseled himself to be patient.

“How was your night, dear Jon?” she asked as she rose. Her red skirts swirled about her legs. Her necklace gleamed with its inner fire and she looked younger than she had when he’d left her earlier. You and your spells and potions. How old are you in truth?

He stared at her for a moment before answering. “Eventful.” He gave her a smile and continued, “Melisandre, can you tell me more about my life…my first life?”

“What do you want to know?” she asked with a nonchalance he sensed was feigned at once.

Very well then. “You told me I never knew my parents. That my uncle raised me until I joined the Nights Watch.”

“I did. I’ve told you more than once,” she said with a smile that was almost teasing. Jon felt a twinge of anger. Not remembering my life is not amusing…at least it’s not funny to me. Tread carefully, woman.

“You have. Did I have any brothers or sisters?”

“None that lived past childhood, I believe,” she said uncertainly.

“And my uncle…you said he died not long after I became a man.”

“He did. He was accused of some treason...wrongfully accused, I was once told.”

“And what else?” he asked with a trace of impatience.

“Jon…I don’t know everything about your life. I didn’t meet you until you had been with the Nights Watch for a good while.”

“Did I have a woman that I loved?”

Melisandre eyed him carefully and hesitated before she said, “I’ve already told you of the girl from beyond the Wall.”

“Yes…beyond the Wall,” he repeated. “And you don’t remember her name, only that she was a…wildling and I broke my vows by being with her.”

“That’s what I was told.”

“And she was the only woman that I loved? There wasn’t anyone else…a wife later? After you say I left the Watch perhaps?” She didn’t speak. “You know, I always thought I could read you rather well but now I wonder. What things do you keep from me, Melisandre?” he asked in a darker tone.

She shook her head and said, “Only things that would hurt you.” She approached him and cradled his face in her hand. She sometimes did that. She treated him as though he were her son. I am not your son. “Something has happened. Tell me what it is and I’ll answer your questions the best that I am able.”

“I met a young woman the other night. Jaqen told you, I know. I’ve been following her…I am drawn to her. Tonight, I went home with her. I marked her.” He did not miss the dismay on Melisandre’s face at those words. “I kissed her and when I did I saw a vision of my past and she was there. She saw it, too.”

“That is…troubling,” Melisandre said cautiously. “Strange that a mortal would see it, too.”

“Tell me of her,” he commanded, his voice low but deadly.

Melisandre lifted her chin at him and he wondered if she would refuse for a moment. She bowed her head at last and said, “She isn’t just any girl to you. Sansa Stark was raised as your half-sister in your first life, your uncle’s eldest daughter.”

“You know her name? And she was named Sansa then? How could she be my half-sister? She’d be my cousin.”

“The truth of your birth was hidden for a long time. Your uncle claimed you as his bastard son to protect you.”

Time seemed to still and he could hear the blood surging through Melisandre’s veins, swooshing through her body, hot and wet. He could smell…fear. And he could taste…copper. Not copper. Blood.

“And this was not important enough to share with me?” he asked in the mildest tone as the flicker of anger grew into a spark of rage.

“I…I only wished for you to accept what you are now and not…not dwell on the past. It doesn’t do us any good. I have not seen the girl but from what Jaqen described, she looks the same as the other Sansa. It was later, after it was discovered that you were cousins and not half-siblings, that you were married.”

“I married her,” breathed, too stunned to ask more though there was certainly more. He could tell.

“Jon…” she said, coming closer and meaning to lay a hand on him again.

“What else?!” he snapped, not wanting her to touch him.

“She died, shortly before you did,” she said with a mournful look.

“How did she die?”

“In child bed.”

“Our child?”

“Yes...both of them. Word reached you that she and the child had died shortly before you faced the Night’s King. You allowed him to get too close. You allowed him to kill you but you destroyed him as well.”

“I wanted to die,” he said as a memory came to him. Not a memory of an event or a person. A memory of pain. The most agonizing pain imaginable and an intense desire to make the pain go away. To fade into nothingness…to be alone in the darkness with nothing else around him ever again. Anything to ease the pain. Anything would be preferable to that much agony.

“You saved the realm,” Melisandre continued. “Songs were sung of your sacrifice.”

Jon was too shocked to speak. He’d heard that shit before about how he’d saved Westeros from the Long Night. None of it mattered now. That part of his heart or soul or whatever that part of him that was still a man was had considered this before…had thought that there may have been something in his life more than fighting the Others and serving the Nights Watch. Somewhere deep inside there was still a boy that wanted to believe fantastical tales and be a hero and save a beautiful maid. ‘Kill the boy,’ a voice whispered but the boy had not quite been killed it would seem. And the boy had wanted to love and be loved more than anything else.

The more skeptical part of him didn’t think he’d ever had some great love in his life but apparently, he had. And now she was here again in this time…except she is mortal and I am not.

“Why did you have Jaqen change me?!” he cried then. “If she was my wife, my love, why not just let me go? If our child had lived, I might’ve done things differently but I lost them both. I obviously wanted to die.” He sobbed out the last sentence and thought he might die from the pain. If only I could die.

“I…my god had already brought you back once…you had done so many things from the time he brought you back till the time you died again,” Melisandre sputtered. She was as frightened of his anguish as she was of his wrath. “I thought that perhaps you were meant to do more.”

“To do more? As a monster? You thought I could serve you by being turned into a beast?! And you wished for me to be cursed to spend eternity like this?!” He lunged for her then and she would not have survived had Jaqen not appeared. Where did you come from? How quick and quiet you move when you wish.

“Jon! Don’t do this,” he said, holding him back. His strength was equal to Jon’s.

“Let me go!” he roared, eager to put his hands around the witch’s throat and watch her eyes bulge out and her tongue turn black.

“No! You cannot blame her entirely! It was not her fault your wife died and I changed you! She only asked me to do it. Please, Jon…this does us no good.”

I am not the killer that you tried to make me…not entirely. “You both claim to care for me,” he snarled as he backed away from them. “I name you both liars though. Perhaps it was what you wanted…but did you ever consider what I wanted? Does it please you to see me suffer? You should’ve just left me dead,” he finished before he strode from the room and the house.

He wandered till dawn in the Wolfswood, trying to decide what to do now that he knew the truth. Or some of it at least.

Sansa woke with a splitting headache and feeling sore all over. She stumbled out of bed and to the bathroom. She flicked on the overhead light and looked in the mirror…and screamed.

“Sansa! Are you alright?!” Margaery cried.

“What’s going on?” Asha asked in a groggy voice.

Sansa was horrified by the sight that greeted her in the mirror. There was an enormous bruise on the right side of her neck. It was dark and ugly with what appeared to be two pin pricks in the center of it. What the actual fuck?

She remembered the sensation of him biting her right as she peaked. It had felt good at the time. ‘Hurts so good. Come on, baby...' She pulled her pajamas off for a look at the rest of herself. Nothing else…just my neck. It didn’t hurt…not really. He couldn’t have known what he was doing but what will they think?

Margaery was at the door. “Sansa?! What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Margaery! It was just a spider. I got it. Sorry to scare you.”

She heard Margaery grumbling through the door. She got in the shower and tried to process what had happened. She was sore between her legs as well but she saw no visible bruises. She thought of Jon giving her a hand job and kissing and…biting at her neck. What will I tell him? Should I hide this? I don’t bruise this easily. He might be upset if he sees this…or did he know what he was doing?  No, I don't believe that.

Sansa sat in her robe with her towel around her neck until her roommates finally left closer to 11:00. They were looking at her oddly.

“I drank too much last night. You know, you were there, Asha. I just want to stay in today.”

After they were gone, she looked at her phone. No messages, no calls. Please…please call. They had made plans for the next day but she wanted to see him and talk to him today. She slipped on a bulky turtleneck sweater and some jeans. She looked at her phone again. A text!

Jon-Good morning. How are you feeling, my lovely? Not too hung over, I hope.

She started to type a response but then hesitated. I don’t want to tell him like this. I’m not really lying exactly.

Sansa-I’m fine. Thank you for asking :)

Jon-I’m looking forward to tomorrow. I miss you.

Sansa-I am, too…and I miss you, too. xoxo

Jon-I’ll see you at 10:00. xoxo

Sansa put down her phone and let out a sigh. Sometimes…a lot of times…we don’t get what we want, Sansa.

Chapter Text

‘The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again.’- Charles Dickens

Joy & Pain

Sunday morning and Sansa skipped down the stairwell from her dorm to meet him in the entryway. She’d chosen a fitted, light blue turtleneck sweater with a very high neck and black skinny jeans and boots. She’d worn her hair loose and had it brushed forward over her shoulders. The mark was barely visible this way, just about a half-inch of it peeped out from the top of her turtleneck and her hair was partially in the way. As long as I don’t swing my head around too much. And I’ll be on his left during the drive so maybe he won’t notice until later at least.

He was wearing black jeans and boots again but today he’d worn a grey henley with a black leather jacket over it. His hair was pulled back in a manbun and Sansa was instantly seized by the desire to reach up and pull it loose and run her fingers though his curls. Not that he didn’t look hot with a manbun, she just liked the idea of playing with his hair.

“Wow, Jon,” she teased. “You really broke out the color today. Did someone let a little of the rainbow into their wardrobe?”

He grinned at her and kissed her quickly on the lips before replying. “What? I’m wearing a color other than black. I thought you’d appreciate me branching out for you.”

“Grey is kind of a variation of black, isn’t it?”

“You can’t make grey without a touch of white,” he countered.

“You can if it’s only a faded black.” He put his arm around her waist and she heard him inhale sharply. “Are you…sniffing me?”

For a moment, he looked like he was caught doing something wrong but then he laughed and said, “Yes, I am. You smell so amazingly good to me.” Okay, note to self…keep using that same body wash. “It’s more than a perfume or shampoo though. Your skin smells sweet.”

She smiled and allowed him to walk her to the visitor’s lot with his arm around her waist. She hadn’t noticed his car much the other night when she’d been intoxicated and sleeping but she took a closer look now. “My older brother had a poster of a car like that tacked up in his room as a kid. I recognize the little pitch-forky hood ornament.”

“Um…yes. I like fast cars. I hope you don’t mind a convertible.”

“Is that a joke? It’s November and freezing out here.”

“I’ll put the top up,” he said, laughing to himself. “I guess the cold doesn’t bother me so much.”

She touched his hand. Icy cold. “It’s a wonder you’re not dead from pneumonia if you ride around with the top down in this weather.” He smirked and opened her door.

Once he was in his seat, he reached for her. He grasped her waist with one hand and put the other around the back of her head to kiss her and Sansa felt herself melting at his touch. She could feel the rush of blood to her face and throat in her pleasure as his lips found hers. She shifted in her seat to turn towards him more, sliding one hand to grasp his jacket and the other up to his hair. The smell and creak of the leather under her hand was pleasing and his hand moved down to her thigh only increasing her arousal. She ran her fingers into his bun, pulling those soft curls free. Jon licked her bottom lip and she opened her mouth to him, moaning slightly when his tongue slid into her mouth. The hand on his jacket slid downward and downward, intent on touching his chest, his stomach and places south of his belt. But before she could leave the soft cotton of his henley, his hand that had been at the back of her head slid forward slightly and she winced visibly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, breaking their kiss to look her in the eye.

“Nothing. I’m sorry.”

She started to lean back to kiss him again but instead he reached for the collar of her turtleneck and tugged it down.

“Gods, Sansa…did I do that?”

She nodded. He pulled the collar down even more, inspecting the bruise. It had started to yellow except for right around the two pinpricks at the center. Those were still an angry red and the flesh around it was purple. He let out a noise almost like a whine through his nostrils.

“Please don’t feel bad. I didn’t notice it at the time really. It doesn’t hurt unless I press on them.”

“Are there more marks?” he asked heavily as he let go of her moving fully back over to his side of the car. She felt the absence of his touch at once and regretted it.

“No.”

Jon leaned over the steering wheel, gripping it tightly. “I’m sorry, Sansa. I didn’t think it…I never meant to hurt you.”

“It’s alright. I’m fine. It’s chilly weather at least so there’s nothing unusual about wearing turtlenecks all the time.” She was aiming for levity but he looked so stricken. “Please, Jon. Let’s enjoy our day.” He nodded and started the car.

Enjoy our day. Enjoy our day…how am I to enjoy our day if he fucking kills us on the way to White Harbor?

He’d been driving along in silence for the past twenty minutes and Sansa felt like she’d done something wrong. It was a two-hour drive to White Harbor from Wintertown and she was wondering what had happened to the easy…and hot…way things had begun before he’d discovered her love bite, the love bite he’d given her. It’s just a stupid hickey. Not like I’ve never had one before…never one quite like this but still.

She heard him grumble something to himself and that was when he started accelerating…and accelerating.

Oh, gods…he drives faster than Robb. I want to tell him he’s scaring the crap out of me driving so fast but at this point I’m not sure what to say to him. She clung to the passenger door armrest instead and closed her eyes.

Jon immediately let his foot off the accelerator and pulled over to the side of the road.

“Sorry…I shouldn’t be driving so fast. I’ve got good reflexes but I suppose White Harbor isn’t going anywhere.”

“Oh, were you driving fast? I hadn’t noticed!” she shouted sarcastically.

“Of course not, sweet girl. Your knuckles are white for an entirely different reason. Sansa, I’m sorry for earlier. I shouldn’t have been brooding and…”

“Ignoring me?”

“Ignoring you and acting…”

“Pissed off?”

He chuckled and said, “Yeah…that. I feel horrible that I bruised you that badly. I know I was kissing…and biting more than I should’ve but I didn’t think…”

“We’ve been over this. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” He looked away before he said, “I worry that I’m no good for you.”

“What rubbish,” she said.

“It’s true though. You don’t know…”

“Jon, it’s a long drive. Can’t you just try and let it go? I want to have fun with you today. I’ve looked forward to being with you. Have you looked forward to being with me?”

“I have. I’ve thought of little else.”

“Then, let it go and don’t worry over a mark on my neck.” He gave her half a smile and then scowled as he started to say something else. “If you don’t let it go, I’m going to start singing ‘Let It Go.’”

“You wouldn’t…” he laughed. She opened her mouth and he quickly said, “Oh, gods, you would!”

“Never doubt the lengths a Stark will go to for someone they…care about, Jon.”  I care for you...I could see myself loving you.

Something softened in his eyes then.  "Never again, I swear,” he replied.

“So, are you going to stop worrying over my neck?”

“Yes…and I promise to stop being such a moody bastard for the rest of the ride, alright?”

“Pinky promise?” she said grinning and holding up her right pinky. He rolled his eyes and then followed through on making that promise.

Being in her presence was like applying a soothing balm to his soul…if I have one. Is this what it’s like for any vampire that marks a mortal? Somehow, he doubted that. He’d been so happy to see her though. The first joy he’d felt since he’d left her Friday night sleeping in her bed. The first true joy I’ve felt in…forever.

As soon as they reached his car, he’d not been able to resist pulling her close, kissing her and touching her. But then he’d brushed her neck and read her thoughts and her pain. Jaqen had said he’d feel her pain but he didn’t feel it. Perhaps he meant more important things. And a mortal’s pain was difficult for Jon to comprehend at this point anyway. Far too long since I’ve been mortal to know how much pressure it takes to go from physical discomfort to pain to agony.

He was trying to stop worrying over it but it was difficult. He’d seen it when he left her Friday but he’d foolishly hoped it would look better by now. It’s so easy to hurt her. I must be more careful or I’ll hurt her…badly someday.

And then, when he realized that she’d been trying to hide it from him, it had wounded him in a strange way. He wanted her to tell him everything, to trust him. Trust a vampire? What a ridiculous thing to do.

They chatted amiably for the rest of the drive although it made him uncomfortable when she’d ask personal questions. He hated having to feed her bullshit about himself when the truth could not be shared.

“Where’re you from originally?

Here, about a thousand years ago…I think. But who can say for certain? “Um…Dorne.”

“Are you parents still around?”

No, they both died before I ever knew them. “No, they died in a plane crash when I was thirteen.” She started sniffling. Gods, I didn’t want to make her cry. “Yes, it was tragic but please don’t cry, my lovely.”

So, he redirected the conversation to her as skillfully as he could. He learned about Ned and Catelyn Stark and her brothers, Robb, Bran and Rickon, and her sister, Arya. Her love for them all was obvious even when she complained about Robb scaring her for fun and Arya and her quarreling so much when she was still at home. And something niggled at the back of his mind as she described them all…something that whispered he knew some of this, that he knew them all already. Or maybe I did know them.

He thought of the question he’d asked Melisandre about siblings and her evasive answer. Perhaps I should’ve asked about cousins or half-siblings. It’s like speaking with an attorney trying to get straight answers out of her.

He’d not been home since his confrontation with her and Jaqen Friday night. He wasn’t sure when he would return although he knew he would eventually for even vampires must rest. I’ve not truly slept in days now, he thought uncomfortably.

The museum was not all that crowded and they made their way leisurely through the exhibits. Jon had seen many of these before, at other galleries in other places over the centuries, but the dragons still fascinated him. And the Ice Dragon was still his favorite. Why should that be? The fire-breathing kind are certainly interesting but I prefer the Ice.

He held Sansa close to him as they moved about the museum, enjoying her scent and her sweet inner voice and the closeness of her body to his. They talked about the works and he found she was quite knowledgeable about art in general. There was a gift shop in the museum and they browsed together. When she went to the restroom, he looked at some small prints of the dragons and thought of buying her one but it did not seem like Sansa. He roamed the shop and found prints from past exhibits. One was of a large wolf with a maid. That’s a direwolf, he thought. And the maid had red hair and a blue rose in her hand. He purchased it and was pleased that Sansa liked it so much when he gave it to her.

“It’s lovely, Jon. Thank you,” she said with glowing eyes.

“It made me think of you,” he replied.

“Do you ever think about what life would’ve been like then? During the Age of Conquest?” Sansa asked as they moved over to look at a massive oil painting of Balerion, the Black Dread.

“Sometimes.” More and more these days.

She smiled at him and took his hand. “I’ve had enough of dragons and conquest for the day. Shall we get something to eat?”

“Of course, Sansa,” he said, nearly smacking his forehead for forgetting. “It’s nearly 3 and we’ve not eaten. You must be starved.”

“I’m alright,” she said just as her stomach grumbled loudly. She smiled then and said, “Well, maybe I’m a bit hungry. Aren’t you?”

“I am,” he replied. Hungry for blood…and ravenous for you.

White Harbor was famous for seafood so he took them to a popular restaurant at the harbor. The fogginess from their midday arrival had burned off and the autumn sun was reflecting rather forcefully off the water…and Jon felt tired and lethargic. Not the Summer Isles but too bright for my comfort. Day was not their natural time. In Wintertown, it was often overcast when it wasn’t rainy or snowy. There were sunny days, just not that many and Jon had started to forget how weak the bright sunshine made him feel, of how it made him long for sleep.

And he was hungry. He could go through the motions of eating what mortals did. Sometimes he enjoyed it but it did not nourish his kind and he’d not fed today…or yesterday. Too busy brooding and feeling sorry for myself yesterday and too eager to get to her this morning. First things first, Jon. Feed the beast inside before you spend time with her. I should’ve suggested a steak house and ordered a filet…bloody.

“Jon, are you feeling unwell?” she asked. He didn’t answer right away. His head swayed a bit and his eyes closed. “Jon?!”

“I’m sorry, Sansa…I don’t feel well.”

“Come on. Let’s get the check and take you to the car.”

Even weak from hunger and the bright sunlight, Jon was far stronger than any mortal but he was not used to this…this unaccustomed sense of weakness. He hated it. And he abhorred being weak like this in her presence.

Once, centuries ago, in a period of despair and anger, he’d tried starving himself, hoping that he would die. It hadn’t worked. Jaqen explained that he would only go into an extended sleep but in time the hunger would become too much and he would awake…and kill anyone and anything he came across until his hunger was abated.

“Get in,” she ordered, opening the passenger side door of his car.

“I can drive,” he protested. He was not so weak as that.

“Get in now,” she said more forcefully.

“You just want to drive my car,” he joked.

“Exactly.” He liked her bossing him around he found and he did as she bid. She took his keys and started the engine. “Now, I’ll warn you…I don’t like to drive fast.”

‘I don’t like to drive fast?’ We could walk back to Wintertown at this speed. Alright, not quite but still…

“Sansa...would you mind if I took nap? I have a…a condition and I forgot to bring my medication.”

“A medical condition?”

You could call it that, I suppose. “Yes.”

“Should I stop at a pharmacy?”

A blood bank would be better. “No, I’ll be fine. Just some rest is all I need.”

His eyes were growing heavy and he longed for sleep. He heard her soothing voice telling him to rest and she’d drive them back. Her hand reached out and gently squeezed his knee, just an innocent touch to convey comfort and closeness. He could hear her worries, too…the things she wasn’t saying but they did not trouble him. She was worried about him and somehow it made him feel…loved. He smiled to himself and leaned his head against the window. He inhaled deeply to enjoy her scent before his eyes fluttered closed. Just a short nap is all I need.

~~~~~~

Robb had outridden him in their race to the bridge…again. But he had spotted the dead direwolf first and then her pups. The others joined them after Robb’s shout and the men all made way for Father to see what his sons had discovered. Bran was curious and quickly in love with them. His eyes glowed with an innocent joy that pleased Jon.

But then the men had been concerned and started mumbling and Father had said it would be for the best. Jon wanted to look away at what Father meant to do but he was nearly a man grown and he would be brave. He heard Bran’s plea and his nimble mind made a quick decision before he spoke.

Father looked at him curiously with a mixture of respect and a touch of sadness. At least, that’s what it looked like to Jon.

“Don’t you want a wolf of your own, Jon?”

“I’m not a Stark,” he replied and he saw Bran’s thankful expression as he nuzzled his pup.

They’d nearly mounted and rode off when Jon heard it, the soft, snuffling cry. He had keen ears. There in the summer snow, he was hard to spot at first. His red eyes glowed though. Jon lifted him up. A sixth pup, a male albino…separated from the others. Like me.

“A freak,” the Greyjoy ward said. “Give him here, Snow. He’ll die a quicker death than the rest.”

“No, Greyjoy,” Jon said to Theon. “This one belongs to me.”

~~~~~~

He startled from the dream that was no dream. They’d all seemed so real. They had been real. Why was Theon there? Then, he reflected on the other people. His father, Robb and Bran…and he knew in his heart that they had been very real indeed and his family and he had loved them all. The pup…my wolf. What became of him? he wondered.

He lifted his head and stretched. It was dark and his car was sitting outside a service station. Where is she? Just then he saw her hurrying back to the car with two cans of soda and a plastic bag in her hands.

“Are you awake now, Sleeping Beauty?” she asked as she climbed into the car.

“I am. Sansa, I’m so sorry…”

“You’ve done a lot of apologizing since we met, you know. But you don’t have to apologize for a nap,” she finished before popping the top of her soda and taking a sip. “Want a snack or this?” she asked holding out a can. He accepted the sugary soda as politely as he could and sipped it slowly. It was not what he wanted or needed but he appreciated her care. “The car needed a fill up and I needed a pit stop,” she said.

“Oh…I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t worry. I nabbed your wallet from your jacket while you were sleeping and charged it,” she said with a cheeky grin that made him smile widely and she took another sip. “Gods!” she shouted next before she whimpered. “Fucking pop-top!” she screamed as she leaned forward to look in the rearview mirror. She gingerly touched her lip and, before he even saw it, he could smell it. Blood…her blood.

Oh, gods…no, he thought with mounting panic as the scent consumed him. I don’t want to hurt her. Please…I can’t hurt her.

And it was then that it struck him that he wouldn’t. He had marked her. Her blood was calling him but their bond was stronger. He would not harm her. He could not. But he wanted to taste her all the same.

“Sansa…wait,” he husked quietly.

She was reaching for a tissue to dab at the drop of blood on her upper lip. She froze in mid-motion. The timbre of my voice. He looked around the parking lot. There were no other cars nearby. He reached for her wrist and softly caressed it. He saw her eyes widen and her pupils dilate. Her breath got shorter.

“Sansa…” he said again before he leaned forward and captured her upper lip with his mouth.

His tongue slid out from between his lips to lick her wound. A very small wound…a very small amount of blood. But more than enough to inflame him. She tasted far sweeter than anything he’d ever known or could’ve guessed. No animal, no mortal had ever tasted this good and yet he was not overcome by the desire to drain her. It was another kind of desire altogether that took over when he tasted Sansa’s blood.

He pulled back and her chest was heaving just as his would’ve been if he still breathed as mortals did. She looked at his lips and back to his eyes and he knew he was not alone in his arousal.

He yanked her by the waist across the console and into his lap and devoured her mouth, kissing her with a passion he never imagined that he could possess. Broody Jon Snow, the reluctant vampire, engulfed with desire to have a mortal woman. But not just any mortal woman, this woman…his woman…Sansa.

Her long legs were scrunched between him and the dash. “You need a bigger car,” she said breathlessly.

“I need a bigger car,” he concurred before he helped her adjust so that she could straddle him and pulled her back to him for more kisses.

He ran his hands back to her hair like this morning but was mindful of her neck this time. Her sex was pressed into his groin and he was already hard as a rock. He shifted his hips slightly to relieve the ache there and her moan nearly unmanned him. He rocked against her again and knew he was lost when she moved her own hips to meet his thrust. Sansa met his ardor with equal vigor, kissing him with longing and heat, while grinding against his cock. She ran her hands under his shirt and scraped at his skin lightly with her nails. He ducked to kiss her throat when she threw back her head.

“Jon…” she said softly and he growled her name in response.

“I want…” he began.

“Jon!” she shouted with fear as she quickly moved off him.

He was dazed and his senses were all scattered. He jumped when there was a rapping on the window. He turned and stared vacantly at the officer standing on the other side of the glass.

Thankfully, Sansa seemed to have her wits in working order and she lowered the window. “We’re sorry, Officer. We’ll go on,” she said sweetly.

He smiled at her and told them that if they’d take their make-out session somewhere else besides the service station he’d let them go on their way.

Jon stayed still as a statue and waited…but the expected fury did not come. The rage and desire to kill that he’d felt so strongly when Margaery had interrupted them didn’t happen at all. Curious…does she change me? Or do I change for her? Or am I merely sated for the moment by a drop of her blood?

“I’ll drive,” he said, wanting the distraction to take his mind off somethings and allow it to run freely on others.

“Alright,” she said as she yawned and stretched.

“How far are we from home?” he asked.

“Still an hour away.”

“Rest if you like, my lovely.”

The room was lit by dozens of candles and a fire roared in the hearth. There was a large man squatting between her naked legs trying to sound encouraging but sounding quite terrified.

“You’re doing so well, my queen. It won’t be much longer now.”

“Sansa,” she managed to pant out between gritted teeth. “My name is Sansa, Sam. You’ve had your head between my legs for hours. You can call me by my name.”

“Yes, my…Sansa. The baby appears to have not turned but we won’t let that deter us. Your little prince or princess should be out soon.”

“Sam…I’m so tired.”

“I know, Sansa. I know. You’re being so brave. You must be strong a little longer. Jon will be so happy when we write to him.”

Sansa nodded feebly as another pain struck. Time passed with Sam telling her to push or rest and nothing felt like she had imagined it would. He said the babe was coming when there was a sudden gush of hot liquid between her legs. Sam’s eyes grew wide with terror.

“What is it, Sam?” she whispered. Her strength was already fading. He shook his head and barked something at one of the ladies attending them. Sansa felt the room grow darker. “Sam?”

“Hold on, my lady. Please, gods…” he said.

The room darkened and they were shouting but she couldn’t seem to care. But one sound caught her attention before she lost consciousness…a sound as sweet as a summer’s breeze and as joyful as a bird’s song. The unmistakable loud and lusty cry of a newborn child. Our child. Jon will be so happy, she thought before the darkness claimed her.

~~~~~~~

She jolted awake with a gasp and clutched her flat stomach. Jon was driving but he had turned to look at her.

“Sansa,” he said and his eyes were full of tears. “What is it?” he croaked.

She didn’t answer. She only wept.

Chapter Text

‘What have I become

My sweetest friend

Everyone I know goes away

In the end,

And you could have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt’

'Hurt'-Johnny Cash

Lies & Healing

For many long and anguished moments, it seemed so very real. She cried and kept grasping her stomach, wondering how it could be so flat. Where is my baby? she thought.

But, she wasn’t just thinking it. It wasn’t until Jon had pulled over to the side of the road that she realized she’d been screaming it. His hand lightly came up to rest on her cheek and he gently shushed her until she stopped. She reached for him and buried her face in his neck, his beard tickling her lips. Sansa wept until there were no more tears to shed, soaking his skin and the leather of his jacket as he held her.

“You’re cold,” she said mostly to herself as she pulled away at last. “Your skin…never mind.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t help it.”

She nodded numbly. The tears were all dried up but the sense of panic and fear lingered along with the questions. “Jon…help me,” she whimpered as she felt her chest tightening up painfully like her heart might explode within it. I can’t breathe.

Jon grasped her firmly by the shoulders and said, “Sansa, my lovely girl, you must relax and breathe. I’m going to stop somewhere and we can talk. Is that alright?”

The diner was just a little roadside place, a greasy spoon but quaint and homey. They slid into a booth in the corner and did not speak until the waitress had taken their order. Sansa ordered a stack of pancakes. She didn’t know where her appetite had come from considering emotional upheaval usually made her stomach spurn food but she was starved.

“You had another vision. Will you tell me of it?” he asked.

“You didn’t have it too?

“No…was I in it? I could tell it caused you great pain.”

“No. I suppose you wouldn’t have seen it then,” she said. She forced herself to retell it. She dreaded having to speak of it aloud and yet speaking of it to Jon seemed to make all the difference. The tightness in her chest started to dissolve. “I died giving birth to our baby,” she finished. “But how do I know if that’s true or only a dream?”

“You said you heard the child crying? And it sounded like any healthy baby?” he asked intently.

“I did. It was the last thing I remembered.”

“But the child died,” he said shaking his head and covering his eyes.

“How would you know that?”

He uncovered his eyes but looked to the table when he said, “I…I had a vision. I didn’t tell you because it was upsetting. I learned that my wife had died in child bed along with our babe. You were my wife in the dream…or the vision. And after I learned of your fate I…committed suicide.”

“Oh, Jon,” she sighed, “it sounds like we had a rather tragic story in the past.” She reached out to take his hand. “Do you believe in fate?”

“I don’t know…maybe,” he replied with his eyes still glued to the table.

“I was just wondering the past few days…if we were really together before in another life, are we fated to be together in this life? And if so, is there any hope for a happier ending this time?”

Jon’s mouth quirked into a rueful smile and, when he raised his eyes to meet hers again at last, they were glistening with unshed tears. “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.”

His words hurt. His pain and doubt hurt more. She opened her mouth to argue that they deserved happiness whether they were together or not but the waitress arrived with the food.

Gods, that sounded clingy anyway. You probably just freaked him out. You’ve known him a couple of weeks and you’re talking to him about fate and being together, like some bullshit off ‘Fantasy Island.’

He gave her a smile which she returned it before attacking her meal with gusto. She gorged herself on the pancakes slathered in butter and maple syrup along with a side of bacon, some coffee and a tall glass of orange juice. I am making a pig of myself but he doesn’t seem to mind. He was watching her eat and smiling in fact. She observed the way his eyes tracked her hands as they moved towards her mouth. She licked her lips and saw his pupils had dilated.

“Did you want some more food to go with that syrup?” Jon joked as she dunked the remaining piece of bacon into the pool of syrup covering the bottom of her plate.

“I like sweet things,” she replied, popping the last bite into her mouth and licking her fingers provocatively just to get a reaction from him. He didn’t disappoint. His mouth fell open before he quickly grinned and bit his bottom lip. Those lips…I could nibble on those lips for days, I think. “Aren’t you hungry?” she asked in the midst of their little eye-fucking game. He’d only ordered black coffee and watched her eat.

“Not yet,” he replied. “Are you ready for me to drive you back?” he asked next.

She thought of her dorm room and her twin bed, of Margaery and Asha and scarlet ribbons and all the questions they would have about her day.

“No…not really but I suppose it’s where I belong,” she said as she rose to her feet.

He held her close to him as they returned to the car. She buckled her seat belt and felt so tired. I want to sleep. But she was afraid of sleep, afraid of what memories might await her there.

“Rest,” he breathed. “It’ll be alright.”

His right hand was massaging her shoulders and the base of her neck. His eyes were intense as he gazed into her own. It was soothing and she felt boneless in the car seat as his strong, deft fingers worked some sort of magic over her tense muscles. He mumbled something and Sansa closed her eyes…and slipped into an obsidian darkness where no dreams or visions reached her. She was grateful. Nothingness was all she wanted for now.

When she opened her eyes again, the car was stopped outside a roadside motel. She looked around for a minute trying to put the pieces back together. Is it still Sunday? The florescent lights of the motel’s entrance were flickering randomly and there were only a couple of other cars in the parking lot. She could hear a radio playing from a speaker near the front office. Johnny Cash. Where is my man in black? This place is makes me think of a horror movie.

The passenger door opened unexpectedly then and Sansa yelped.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Jon said with his hands raised. “I didn’t mean to frighten you!”

“Fuck…you scared the shit out of me,” she sighed, clutching her chest as her heart pounded…ratta-tat-tat. “Where are we? And where’s your jacket?” she asked next noticing he was down to his grey henley though it was freezing outside now.

“In the trunk. We’re only about 30 minutes from campus. I can take you back to your dorm tonight if you like but if you wanted to rest…away from your roommates…”

“With you?”

“I’ll get my own room. I’m not pressuring you to have sex or share a bed or anything.” She raised her eyebrows at him and he chuckled, “Alright, I’m not going to lie. I would very much like to sleep beside you at the very least. I’d like to get to hold you tonight.” Her eyebrows inched higher and he rolled his eyes and continued, “And yes, I’d really, really like to have sex with you but I will happily get another room if you prefer.”

“We can share a room,” she decided. I don’t know what I want exactly but I want you near me…and I’d likely never fall asleep in a room by myself here at the Bates Motel. “Why are you laughing now?”

“No reason,” he snickered.

Sansa shook her head and climbed out of the car. “I don’t want to go back to the dorm tonight. I’ll text my roommates. But I don’t have anything, no toothbrush or…”

“There’s a pharmacy across the street. We’ll get whatever you need.”

“Thank you, Jon. May I ask why we couldn’t just go to your home?”

“I…I don’t have a…I don’t live alone, Sansa. Not yet anyway.”

She sighed and hung her head. “Jon, please tell me the truth. Are you married? Or do you have a…”

“No! I swear that’s not why! I’m planning to move out but my place isn’t ready and I’m staying with friends. I’m sorry I lied to you.”

“Why didn’t you just say as much the other night?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was…well, it’s complicated. Things at home are complicated but I’ll be better off on my own, I believe. But I swear to you by the old gods and the new or anything else you want me to swear by, there’s no one else but you.”

He was hanging his head now and she stepped up close and took his hands in her own. “It’s alright…but don’t lie to me again. I can’t trust you if you tell me lies. I want to believe in you.” He looked miserable but nodded. “Your hands are warm,” she said smiling at him. “Will you hold me?” He took her in his arms and held her close. The pain from earlier had receded and there was nothing but her and Jon. And a motel room for the night together…

They went into the motel’s office and asked for a room. The older woman sitting behind the desk rose to her feet slowly. She had yellow teeth and beady eyes and looked them both over. She asked Jon his name and how he wanted to pay for the room. He pulled out cash.

“You’re not one of Craster’s friends, are you?” the woman asked Jon with a sour expression.

He looked up sharply at the woman. “No. I don’t know any Craster,” he responded.

“How old is she?” she asked Jon next pointing to Sansa. She’s looking at him like he’s a pedophile or something.

Jon opened his mouth but Sansa responded for herself, “I’m nineteen, almost twenty. Would you care to see my license?”

She shook her head at Sansa. “As long as you’re not one of Craster’s disgusting friends,” the woman grumbled and handed Jon the room key.

“Wonder who Craster is,” Sansa said as they walked back out of the office.

“Um…no telling,” Jon shrugged. “Sansa, what time do you need to be back at school tomorrow?”

“I’ve got a 9 o’clock Finance class that I will happily miss so not till noon.”

They crossed the street and roamed around the pharmacy together. Jon carried the basket as Sansa slid items into it. Toothbrushes, toothpaste, deodorant, shampoo, conditioner, gum, water, a granola bar…condoms? Why not?

She glanced up to see Jon’s reaction. He startled and quickly looked away. “Only if you want that,” he whispered. She lightly touched his hand that was holding the basket and he met her eyes again. “Anything else?” he asked gruffly. She shook her head and they went to check out.

They didn’t speak as they walked back to the motel and found their assigned room. Jon moved his car right outside of it. The other rooms around them seemed empty. November wasn’t a heavy travel time on the outskirts of Wintertown. He opened the door and flicked on the lamp by the door bathing the standard motel room in a soft light. The two full-sized beds were covered in brightly-colored duvets. The room was freezing and Sansa went over to turn up the heat.

“Looks cozy enough but I think I want a shower…to warm up a bit,” she said. He nodded. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

She pinned up her hair and stepped into the tub turning on the water as she heard Jon turn on the TV in the other room. The warm water was soothing but it did not last. Just as the water started to cool unexpectedly, Sansa started humming to herself. And when she realized she was humming a lullaby, she nearly cried again. It’s not real…not anymore.

Sansa brushed her teeth and left the bathroom soon after with only a towel around her. Her hair was still pinned up and Jon rose from the bed where he’d been sitting. He clicked off the television. He’d removed his shoes but nothing else. His eyes grew wide at the sight of her. She loved the way he looked at her sometimes, the way he couldn’t seem to get enough of just staring at her, like she’d been lost for years and he’d finally found her again.

“Is that what you’re wearing to bed?” she asked looking at his jeans.

“I’ll wear whatever you want me to, Sansa.”

“What if I told you to keep every bit of it on?”

“I’d do it. I’ll sleep in the floor if you tell me to…I’ll sleep in the car if you want.”

“And what if I told you to take off all your clothes?”

“I will gladly take every stitch of clothing off faster than you would believe possible.”

“I like the sound of that,” she said before she dropped her towel.

You don’t deserve her. You’re a fucking liar and a filthy beast and you’ll never be worthy of her, Jon told himself but he removed his shirt all the same. He couldn’t stop himself from walking over to her either. He wanted to look at her, all of her, to drink in the beauty of her body bare before him. Her skin was still rosy and warm from the shower. Her creamy white skin with a hint of freckles here and there, touched by a pinkish glow from the hot water and the heat of his gaze, too. He wanted to lick every inch of it. Her nipples were a tawny pink and they had hardened to little pebbles. The triangle of ginger hair at her mound, he wanted to bury his nose in it and breathe in the scent of her sex until he could smell nothing else. I don’t deserve her…but I need her.

“What are those?” she gasped looking at his torso. The scars. They were faint now. They had been since he’d changed but they’d once been killing blows. When he was still a man, they’d been quite dark and awful looking. Now, they were thin and light, only a slightly darker shade than the rest of his skin. It still didn’t hide what they’d been.

“Scars…from an old injury,” he said. Very old.

She traced them with her finger delicately and a memory briefly flashed of Sansa kissing them gently and bathing them with her tears when they were uglier. When I was just a man. ‘Please don’t cry, sweet girl,’ he had said then.

“How?” she asked, mystified.

‘Don’t lie to me again. I can’t trust you if you tell me lies,’ she had said. I don’t want to lie to you, my love. Not ever. But I know that I still will. And when you discover it, will you hate me?

“A long story…for another time,” he replied before he leaned forward to capture her mouth.

He licked the small cut on her lip from earlier. It had already clotted of course but he could taste just the slightest hint of her blood. Her skin tasted delicious regardless but her blood had been so very sweet on his tongue. At least I’m not hungry now.

He had mostly longed to be able to warm her tonight with his body but also knew it would be wiser to slake his thirst so he would not be focusing on it. He’d wanted to relish lying beside her in the night if she consented to sharing a bed. He had told the truth though. If she’d told him to take her home, he would’ve. If she’d told him to get his own room, he would’ve. If she told me to jump off a building, I would. But he had desired this all the same.

He’d left her for less than ten minutes in the car after easing her into a deep sleep that bordered on unconsciousness, sending her to that abyss that could drown out her pain and worry for a brief time. It was a useful tool for vampires that liked to feed on their humans without killing them but Jaqen had always told them not to do it. It’s better not to leave them behind to question or raise suspicions…and best not to get too attached to your meal. Jon had felt rotten doing that to her without her knowledge or consent but, after her hysteria earlier, he wanted her to be at ease. Her pain had made him feel out of control as well.

And then, he’d went hunting. He initially thought he might find an animal in the woods near the motel. Instead, he’d found the man walking his dog. He stalked them for a minute, considering them closely. It would’ve been so easy. No one was around that could’ve seen or heard…not in time to do anything about it. But the guilt and the wish to not harm the man and his canine companion had been stronger than his hunger.

It was then a gift had crossed his path…a man walking alone back towards the motel and his thoughts were much uglier than the other man’s. Craster…an ugly man with an ugly secret. Or not-so-secret apparently based on the motel clerk’s words. Jon might not enjoy killing humans most of the time but a man like Craster…evil doers are easier.

He had moved swiftly and bit down hard on the man’s jugular without breaking his neck first like usual. The blood had sprayed all over Jon’s jacket and he’d had to dispose of it.

She reached up and pulled the pin from her hair, loosening all that glorious auburn hair at once to spill down her back and over her shoulders, and Jon’s attention was immediately drawn back to the present.

Oh, gods…please help me to restrain myself. I do not wish to hurt her, he thought in agony as his palms itched to grab her roughly by the waist and drag her to the bed. He focused on all that silky hair just begging to be touched while her scent consumed every fiber of his being. He ran his hands up to her hair and kissed her passionately and possessively. You’re mine…no one will take you from me this time.

There was much to be considered from her vision and their past. Many questions that needed answering and things he needed to ask of others. The question of the child was the most pressing. Did our child truly live? It could’ve been born and died soon after. Why would Melisandre say it had died if that were not so? And it was so long ago. Does it really even matter anymore? She is here now and with me. She is all I know and all I want.

“Sansa,” he moaned as he stepped out of his jeans and she rubbed him through his boxer briefs, “are you certain?”

“Yes, I want you to make love to me.”

“Gods, I want that, too. I just…” He moaned louder as she started sucking on his neck. That feels so good. I’d let her mark me in an instant if I changed her…What are you thinking? You don’t want to do that to her, do you? “Sansa, I want to go slow with you. Tell me if I hurt you again...like with your neck.” Sansa was so busy kissing and biting his neck he wasn’t sure what she mumbled against his skin. “The condoms, love…where are they?” he asked. You may be a beast and a liar but at least don’t get her pregnant with some hybrid creature of darkness.

“The bathroom,” she said.

He went to fetch the box and she was lying on the bed when he returned. She smiled lazily up at him and slowly caressed her breasts. Jon stood transfixed watching…and ripped the box in two without meaning to and she giggled. He closed his eyes. Gods…mind your strength.

He tossed the shredded box and the rest of its contents on the other bed and laid one packet on the nightstand. He shed his underwear and kissed his way up her body from the foot of the bed, starting with her feet.

“Are you really going to kiss my feet?” she laughed as she pulled away.

“I want to kiss all of you,” he said. Her eyes were dark with desire, watching him intently as his mouth whispered across her knee, up her thigh and to her center. He nudged her legs apart and he inhaled deeply. “Sansa…can I taste you now?”

“I’d love that if you would,” she whispered.

He smiled and swiped her slit with his tongue. Her moans were as intoxicating as her fragrance and taste and he lapped languidly at her folds and clit before fucking her with his tongue. An exercise is giving pleasure to Sansa with no thought of his own pleasure was what he had intended. But he found pleasure in it all the same. Her fingers were knotted through his hair, her nails scraped at his scalp, a delicious sort of tingle. Her cunt was sopping wet by the time he felt her legs trembling with her release. She cried out his name as she fluttered around the fingers that were inside of her now while he concentrated on her bud with his mouth, sucking gently and licking. Tempted to nip at it softly but too afraid of causing her pain. He swore he could feel her climax through his own body and wondered if their bond from his mark meant he could experience more than just her pain.

Her eyes were misty and unfocused as he climbed up her body, kissing her stomach and stopping to lick a nipple before he reached her mouth. She pulled him down hard to her, attacking his mouth with a ferocious urgency that made him feel desired and loved. She makes me happy, makes me long to be something pure again. And she is the balm to my tortured soul.

“I love you,” he breathed into her neck…and she froze. Oh, gods…did I just…

“Is that true?” she asked hesitantly.

He raised up to look at her and knew he must not look away or give her any reason to doubt him if he wished to hold on to her.

“It is. I love you,” he said again before he cupped her face. “You don’t have to say it back. I know it’s sudden…”

“I love you, too…but perhaps it’s not so sudden. Perhaps I’ve loved you for a long time now.”

You have. And I have loved you. He held himself above her, staring into those blue eyes and swearing to himself that whatever happened he would never forget her again and never forget how much he loved her. I will find a way to destroy myself before I ever live without you again.

But his cock that was nestled against her mound was begging for attention now. “Sansa, can we…”

“Yes, yes,” she laughed then. “Fuck me, by all means.” He grabbed the condom off the nightstand and managed to open it without tearing it to pieces. He slid it down his shaft before kissing her again. She parted her mouth for his tongue and spread her legs for his cock. He centered himself just as she hooked a leg around his waist. “Now, Jon,” she said softly between kisses.

He pushed in slowly, every centimeter a sweet torment. She was so tight and though she was not a virgin, he wished to be careful with her though his baser urges might’ve wanted to ram and rut with abandon into her hot, wet core. Once he’d made it all the way in, her leg squeezed him tightly against her. He groaned and pulled back…before thrusting back in fully and she gasped.

“Does it hurt?”

“No…not at all,” she said.

He found a rhythm soon enough and listened to her thoughts and the sounds she made for guidance. Jon kept telling himself to go slowly and he did…at first. Hips moving in time together, every thrust bringing him closer and closer. He could not take his eyes from hers…except when the desire to capture a nipple between his lips took hold. And she could not seem to get enough of him. Her teeth caught his lips, teasing and nipping and making it harder to concentrate on minding himself. He hooked his arm under her other leg and pulled it around his waist as well and sat up on his knees while dragging her body down the bed to him. He grasped her waist and held her firmly in place as he pounded into her. She threw her hands back over her head and grasped the railing of the headboard, chanting his name like a prayer.

When he felt he could stand no more, he moved his hand and rubbed his thumb over her clit. He looked down to see his cock sliding in and out of her cunt with every thrust, the condom wet and slippery. He returned his gaze to her face. Her mouth was parted, her brow was furrowed in concentration as she sought her release again and she was biting at her lip. He’d never seen a sight so lovely and he fell over her to start ramming into her in a way he had fought against earlier. Sansa for her part didn’t seem to mind. She was bucking her hips to meet each thrust and crying out.

“Unnn…arrr…oh, gods…” she moaned until she rippled and quaked around him.

He felt her peak around his cock, her cunt’s spasms tightening around him. But he could feel her peak in his body, too. He was sure of it this time. Marking her meant more than sharing her pain. It meant sharing her pleasure, too. And it swiftly drove him over the edge to his own release.

“Gods…Seven fucking hells, Sansa!” he shouted as he came, collapsing on top of her as though all the strength had been bled from him. I think it has.

“Jon,” she said softly afterwards while stroking his back, “are you alright?”

He laid there still on top of her as though he were a mere mortal that had suffered a trying day and then drained himself with their physical exertion. His cock was still inside of her and while it had softened he felt it twitch and knew he would soon want her again.

“I’m more than alright,” he sighed, easing off her at last, fearful he must’ve been crushing her. “I’m home.”

They’d won their battle to keep the bedding private at least. It had been strongly hinted and even out-right suggested that they should allow two or three witnesses at minimum. So many eager eyes wanted to watch their king bed his sister-turned cousin-turned-wife. But Jon had not been swayed and would not hear of it. Sansa was very grateful. As much as she loved him, she was afraid of being intimate with a man again after her previous experience. Jon was hardly just any man and she loved her husband with all her heart but having others watch them consummate their marriage would’ve been difficult to endure.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he breathed when they were both naked and had crawled under the furs.

“You won’t,” she said uncertainly. The fire crackled nearby and she drew a deep breath. “I’m not a maid.”

“You’ve not been treated right though...but I plan to remedy that every day for the rest of our lives,” he said before he slid down her body and nestled himself between her legs.

“Jon? What are you…” She gasped and said no more words when she felt his mouth on her most private place. Her eyes widened with surprise and then her cheeks flushed scarlet. She bit her lip to contain the highly unladylike moan that wished to burst forth.

“Never hold back with me, sweet girl,” he rasped before returning his attentions to her sex. So, she didn’t. She moaned and sighed his name and he brought her pleasure she’d never imagined possible.

“Please don’t leave me yet. Hold me for a while,” she begged when he had shuddered and spilled within her at last. She didn’t want him to leave her bed though she expected that he would. That’s what men did, wasn’t it? They took their pleasure and left.

“I will never leave our bed…not if I can help it,” he chuckled.

~~~~~~

She awoke and smiled at the memory and then looked over at him sleeping beside her. His curls were a mess and his lips were parted. His skin was still warm to the touch. She lay there for a while watching but at last she had to get up and use the bathroom.

She showered and dressed and he slept. She turned on the TV while she ate her granola bar and brushed her teeth. She walked outside into the crisp, cold morning air and looked around the parking lot. There was a sheriff’s car sitting out front of the office. The cold air was bracing and promised that winter was coming. It invigorated her. She watched the deputy walk back out to his cruiser and drive off before she headed back into their room. She glanced at her phone again that desperately needed charging now. 9:25AM. And still he slept on.

There were bruises on her hips but they weren’t bad. He had been very tender but his eagerness had won out in the end. She did not mind. They’d made love twice more during the night. After each time, he’d pulled her up close and she’d fallen asleep in his arms. She’d half expected to be awakened by his cock straining against her ass this morning and him pulling her on top of him again. She’d liked that. Straddling his chiseled hips and riding him. She’d had three orgasms that way before he finally came.

“Jon,” she finally said, shaking him gently, “we should probably get headed soon.”

His eyes fluttered opened and he smiled sweetly at her. “Of course, my love. Sorry to keep you waiting. I’ve not slept that well in ages. I’ll just be a few minutes,” he said. He kissed her and then headed into the bathroom.

Her phone started ringing. “Hey, Big Bro,” she answered.

“Hey, Little Sis, you got a sec?”

“Always for you.”

“Mom’s wanting us to come home for the day Saturday. It’s Weirwood Day and Dad’s birthday is almost here.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“I’ll pick you up around 9 if that’s okay.”

“Sure…well, actually…Robb, I might not need a ride. I might bring someone with me.”

“Bring someone with you? Is this someone male?” She could picture the leer on his face perfectly well.

“Yes,” she said, blushing despite herself, “and please don’t tease me.”

“Alright…I’ll be delighted to meet the young man,” Robb said in his most patronizingly-father-knows-best sort of voice.

“Gods, Robb. Don’t fucking embarrass me and he’s your age so don’t act all big-brothery.”

“My age? What’s he doing chasing college girls around?”

“You still chase college girls around.”

Robb ignored that and said, “And, when it comes to you and Arya, I get to act all big-brothery whether the dude is twelve or twelve hundred years old.”

“Of course, you do,” she concurred. She heard the shower turn off and said, “Gotta go. He’s almost out of the shower.”

“Out of the…what the fuck?! Sansa, are you…”

“Bye!” she shrieked before she hung up and collapsed on the bed shaking with laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Jon asked coming out of the bathroom with a towel slung low around his hips. His hair was all damp and the curls were clinging to his face. His muscular chest and broad shoulders looked very inviting and Sansa suddenly wasn’t feeling too anxious to head back.

“Nothing, just making some plans for next weekend.” He cocked his head to the side and waited for her to elaborate. “I’ll tell you about it on the ride home. But for now, get rid of that towel,” she grinned as she crooked her finger to beckon him back to the bed.

Chapter Text

‘But know this; the ones that love us never really leave us. And you can always find them in here.’

-Sirius Black as he places his hand over Harry’s heart, ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban’

Home

Gentle kisses like rain she gave him as they parted, so different from her forceful, eager kisses of earlier and yet every bit as endearing and desirable. He sat in his car long after he had dropped her back off at her dorm shortly before noon and lingered, watching her disappear from view; her scent only a memory of itself left behind in his car and on his body and her sweet inner voice beyond his hearing.

He would’ve preferred to follow Sansa around all day. Well, he’d honestly like to return to the motel to make love to her again and again in between just holding her close and sleeping beside her. I must get my own place.

At last, he finally started the car again and headed home. He did not know if he wanted to see them all but he knew he must face them…and there were questions that needed to be asked.

Jaqen was waiting for him. Whether he had a sixth sense about Jon’s decision to return this day at last or whether he’d kept a vigilant watch all the while that Jon had been gone, it was not certain. A man’s heart and mind cannot ever truly be comprehended by another, Jon decided as he casually sat down at the large table in their kitchen. Jaqen sat drinking from a mug and Jon knew that he was not drinking coffee at once. He could smell it after all. Rarely did anyone at home eat or drink anything other than blood except Melisandre.

Cold blood…how does he stomach it? Jon wondered.

“I once lived on nothing but sour ale and what blood I could drink from rats and other vermin for weeks. Cold blood is not a hardship. I’ve even sucked on dried, congealed blood in times of desperation, Jon.”

“Why should a being like you…”

“Like us,” Jaqen corrected with a smirk and an arched brow.

“Like us,” Jon continued with a scowl, “be forced to such unpleasantness? Wouldn’t you tell me that is one of the great advantages of being so nearly godlike compared to these weak mortals that surround us and make up our prey? That we should never suffer or go without?”

“Perhaps because a man does not wish to entirely forget what it is to suffer and pine as mortals do. But this is not the voice of my Jon. He doesn’t consider himself a god or anything like one and he loathes being what he is,” Jaqen said before he drained the last of his mug. “Tell me what has happened, where you have been and what you wish to know. But first…you must swear you will not harm my mate today. And if you wish to remain under my roof, you must never threaten Melisandre again and you must make amends to her.”

“I will make amends for my wrath the other night. I have many questions and I hope she will have some answers to share. I will swear not to harm your mate this day but, depending on her answers, I cannot promise that I will never threaten her again. But I do not intend to remain under your roof for very long now.”

“You have marked your Sansa,” Jaqen said, “in every way there is for us to mark her barring turning her.”

“Which I will never do.”

Jaqen didn’t respond to that but gave him half a smile. “As you say. Come, let us go rouse Melisandre and see what questions you have.”

“And Theon…after I speak with Melisandre, I’d like to speak with Theon.”

They climbed the stairs to her rooms. She was at prayer before her fireplace. How her flesh glimmered with sweat from the heat and Jon wondered if she ever truly saw anything there anymore. Melisandre looked pitifully frail and hurt when she saw him enter but Jon knew she was good with her guises and glamours. He bowed his head and begged her pardon…just like a good little boy. She rose to embrace him and he moved swifter than Jaqen could.

“I’m sorry to say I lied to you, Jaqen,” Jon said as he wrapped his hands around Melisandre’s throat and held her to him from behind. He put his lips close to her ear. His teeth were bared, his fangs were out. Jaqen growled but it was an impotent little sound. He would not be able to move quick enough to stop Jon from killing her if he wished to do so. “But, I swear I will not harm her if she will answer true.” His hands did not tighten on her throat, not even slightly, and his caress was gentle as he husked, “Tell me true, witch. Did you lie to me when you said my child died along with my bride?”

Her fear weakened her normal defenses and Jon could hear no lie or omission in her response when she spoke. “I did not lie. I was told your child…a boy…had died. Everyone else at the camp was told the same. I tried to see it in my flames but the Lord would not show me.”

“Who? By whom were you told?” he asked, already releasing Melisandre from his deadly grip.

“The one who knew everything before anyone it seemed…the Queen’s Spider.”

“What spider? And what queen? Sansa was my queen. Was there another?”

Jon sat alone in his room after he’d finished speaking with Melisandre and Jaqen…and apologized to her yet again and with sincerity at least this time. His mind was spinning and he longed for the comfort of Sansa. He would’ve liked to bury himself in her embrace and in her body and forget the things he’d heard. He’d like to share it all with her…but how could he burden her with some of it and not tell her all of it?

Had their child lived? And what became of him if so? Melisandre had no answers to that, nor Jaqen. Jon had gone to battle believing his wife and child were dead. Had the Master of Whisperers spread a false tale? Was it his own tale or was it one whispered to him by another that he had believed? And what of the Spider’s mistress, the Dragon Queen?

Whatever the truth, Jon had sacrificed himself to end the war. He’d died hoping to greet Death with open arms if it meant an end to the agony of life without his beloved. But had he known his son lived, he would never have made it so easy for Death.

Melisandre had tried to bring him back under cover of darkness with only a few loyal supporters nearby…and failed. And when she summoned Jaqen and made her plea, he had come and changed Jon for her. And the three of them had fled Westeros for a time thinking it best that the dead King in the North not be seen walking about again. ‘We’ve had enough of that sort of thing,’ a curiously familiar voice whispered in his hear.

Jon had been weak when they had left but as soon as his change was complete, he was insatiable and so much more powerful than he’d ever imagined possible. He’d fed on the peoples of Braavos for a time until he learned control and been taught of his new life by Jaqen. Then, they’d journeyed further East until they’d reached Melisandre’s homeland of Asshai at last. And by then all memory of Jon Snow’s former life had seeped away and been leached from his heart.

Time passes differently for immortals. Their travels did not seem so very long to Jon but when they returned to Westeros, eighty-seven years had passed. My newborn son would’ve been a very old man, had he lived so long. He might’ve married and had children and grandchildren and even great grandchildren in the time I was gone.

“What of my wolf?” he asked.

“He died in battle by your side,” Melisandre answered. “He was your closest companion in some ways. There was a special connection between you that I never fully understood though I’d heard of it in the past.”

“I lost everything to the war,” he said mournfully.

“You did. You lost everything…and it was worth it. It meant the survival of mankind.”

He had asked Melisandre of Theon and she said she did not know Theon Greyjoy in that life but that she had heard of him being Lord Eddard Stark’s ward and that he had betrayed Robb Stark, the Young Wolf.

“Robb Stark?” Jon asked thinking of Sansa’s brother.

“A false king,” she replied with disdain. “Killed by his own bannermen.”

Jon thought on what Sansa had discussed with him in the car on their ride back to campus that morning. Weirwood Day and visiting the Starks…he had his trepidations about it but he could tell she wanted to bring him home and introduce him to her family. He wanted to please her but he felt like such an imposter already passing himself off as something he wasn’t to her and now he would do so to her entire family. And what of the past and my connection to these people? Will it bring on more memories? I’m not sure how much more past pain I can stand.

Theon had no memory of his past life…not the one he shared with Jon anyway. And he was very displeased with Jon at present. As soon as Jon had spoken of his plan to move, to find a place on his own, Jaqen had only nodded and told him to do what felt right to him. Theon had been the one to argue.

“I don’t understand this, Jon. After all the years we’ve lived together, why are you leaving the coven?”

“I’m not really leaving it. I want my own home but I won’t leave you all. If there’s some threat to the coven…”

“Why move? Just because you want to have a mortal? Bring her here if you want. Fuck her day and night for all I care. It won’t bother me any. You can protect her or kill her when you tire of her...why does it have to change things for our family?”

Jon’s eyes flashed red with anger but Theon was not so easily cowed as he had once been. “She’s not just some mortal…not to me, Theon. And I’ve marked her.” Theon gave a dramatic sigh…impressive for someone who doesn’t really need air to breathe.

“I want you to be happy, Jon. I know this life is not something you chose. But, I’d rather you stay with us. You know…Myranda won’t happy about this at all. She was very upset that you didn’t return the past couple of days. She said it was this girl but I thought she was crazy at the time.”

Jon had always read Theon easily. He knew what wasn’t being said aloud. “You’d better warn Myranda to adapt to change. And if she tries to harm Sansa, she will no longer be family to me. She will be my enemy.” Theon was clearly distressed by the threat so Jon switched topics. “I’ve some calls to make. We’ll speak later.”

She’d been fortunate when she’d arrived back at the dorm. Margaery and Asha were both at class though there was a warning note pinned to her bed that she was to submit to questioning at precisely 3PM when all three of them were finished with classes for day. She smiled to herself at her dormmates’ inquisitiveness turned threat and went off to her remaining classes of the day after briefly stopping by to make her excuses of illness this morning to her Finance professor.

There, on the power pole outside the Finance building, was a faded flier with Joffrey’s face and the word ‘Missing’ still at the top. It had been partly covered by another flier that was boasting of an upcoming sorority formal. He’d been missing several days now and no word at all. It was making several students nervous and few were seen travelling alone after hours. Somehow, Sansa felt safer with no Joffrey around. And she didn’t need to travel with others because she felt as though someone was already watching over her. She smiled to herself thinking of Jon admitting to following her when he’d approached her Friday night. Well, hauled me out the back door of the Dornish place. So, someone was watching over me in a way, she remembered. My Man in Black…my Dark Angel…Jon.

She glanced at the poster once more and wondered what had happened to old Joffrey on Halloween night. But that smug look in his eyes and his wormy lips pulled back in a mocking smile made her decide she really didn’t care. Bad Sansa, she thought with a mischievous glint in her eye before she walked on and dismissed Joffrey from her mind.

She thought of Jon often throughout the day naturally. She’d nearly pounced on him this morning once he dropped his towel, something that seemed so out of character for her. She didn’t worry over her more take-charge attitude towards sex though. She’d pushed him down on the bed and rode his cock until she’d found her peak three times. The rapture in Jon’s eyes as he watched her writhing atop of him had brought her fulfillment as surely as the movement of their bodies.

Sansa would have to admit she’d drawn a wicked pleasure out of how often her phone rang and then chimed with texts during their lovemaking that morning until her battery finally died. Robb never had been one to give up easily when his interests (protective, big-brother interests in this case) were stirred. She’d finally called him back this afternoon and gotten an earful of why she was insane to go off to White Harbor for the day and then spend the night with a man she barely knew, almost a perfect stranger. He’s not that. I’ve known him forever, I believe.

But she submitted to her chastisement because she knew he loved her and acted out of heartfelt concern. Robb hadn’t forgotten Halloween and Sansa’s sudden desire to be picked up out of the blue and taken home to their parents the very night she’d met Jon and was still in his company. He’d seen him and his friend and then questioned her all the way to their parents’ home. So, now she had admitted to having a sexual relationship with that same man and taking a trip out of town with him. She hoped that Robb would not be difficult with Jon on Saturday…and knew how futile that wish might be when it came to Robb.

Ned Stark followed the old gods like all the Starks before him had for several millennia and he had raised his children to know the old gods, too. Sansa worshiped the Seven with her mother but that did not mean she did not respect her father’s gods or heed the wisdom of the older words. There were very few families left in Westeros that followed the old gods, more of them lived even further north but the North was not as populous as it had once been.

Her father’s birthday fell near Weirwood Day each November, a time when the old ways and old gods were honored by those families that still held on to those beliefs. And every year, Catelyn Stark had the family gather at their home to celebrate both occasions with food, music, laughter and prayer.

She hoped Jon would not mind. It would certainly be awkward for him in some ways but she believed her family would take to him. If I was his wife once, perhaps they will. She’d had no visions of her family from the past and she did not know how her and Jon had become acquainted and fallen in love precisely. Did he know my family at all? Their quarrel and kiss, the images of him leaving her with men waiting in a courtyard while she was round with child and her death in childbed were the only visions she had had. I should like to know more, she thought just as she reached her dorm again.

“Sit!” Margaery ordered at once before she’d even dropped her bag.

“Spill, Stark!” Asha barked next coming to relieve her of said bag.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Sansa said with a grin.

“Oh, that’s a terrible lie if I ever heard one,” Asha said.

Forty-five minutes later, Margaery and Asha were at least somewhat appeased. Sansa wasn’t going to discuss every detail with them. And she left out the unexplained things that would make her friends rush to have her committed more than likely. But she shared enough to leave them in no doubt that her feelings for Jon ran deep and their relationship was very serious now.

The previous night spent in Jon’s arms had left her tired by 8 o’clock and she kept catching herself falling asleep as she read her History lesson for that night. Just a few more pages, Sansa.

Her phone rang and she was delighted to see Jon’s number pop up. She wished she had a picture of him to go with it and decided she’d have to snap one of him.

“Hello,” she answered quietly, trying to ignore the smirk on Margaery’s face.

“Hello, love,” he said. “I have missed your voice all day. I’ve missed every inch of you in truth. Have you missed me at all?”

“Hold on,” she said and could feel her cheeks flaming. She rose and headed out the door and down the stairs to the small courtyard at the back of the dormitory.

“Did I lose you?” he asked after several seconds of silence.

“No, I just wanted to get away from my roommate’s knowing looks. I’ve missed you very much. I wish I could see you tonight.”

“I have wished to see you tonight,” he said dreamily. It seemed like he might continue on that but instead he switched to a more business-like tone. “Sansa, I’m moving into my new place soon. I’ll be tied up for a few days but I will be looking forward to spending Saturday with you.” Her heart sank at the thoughts of not seeing him until Saturday but before she could acquiesce to the time apart he spoke again. “I hope that doesn’t give you the impression you won’t see me at all though. I’d love to see you for coffee or maybe lunch tomorrow.”

“I’ll be free after 10 until 2 tomorrow,” she said smiling once more.

“Excellent. I’ll stop around 11 and take you to eat...unless I get to eat you first,” he said in a low and tempting voice.

“I’ll have the ribbon ready,” she responded and loved the growling sound he made then.

They said their goodnights soon after and Sansa looked up at the moon and stars for a moment before heading back inside.

He hung up and watched her smiling to the heavens before she headed back inside. He’d not been able to resist coming to campus and this unexpected gift of getting to see her made it worth the walk. Seeing her, if only for a moment, helped bring some peace of mind back to what had been a trying and busy afternoon. He’d had a busy day but he would be even busier the rest of the week. He wanted everything ready by the weekend because after they spent the day with Sansa’s family, he hoped to bring her back to his new home.

Over the centuries, Jaqen had managed to amass quite a fortune and, while they maintained a low profile, several of the locals in Wintertown had figured out that Mr. H’Ghar and his unusual little family were well off. Jon had spent the afternoon finding a house that was available, not too far from his family and suitable for his needs. The sprawling log cabin had been in foreclosure for over a year and it would take a good deal of work. That would not be a problem for him but it would take time. It sat on nearly ten acres of wooded property so it had plenty of privacy to suit him. Eighteen months it had sat empty but Jon wanted to buy it, clean it and make it habitable by the next weekend. Maybe shooting a bit high, he thought with a smirk. He'd found it on his own but tomorrow he’d contact the bank that held it. He would make the purchase and hopefully have the keys in hand and ink dried on the contract by Friday.

But he didn’t need keys to enter the house naturally. He’d walked through the silent, empty house daydreaming about how Sansa might wish to decorate this room or that and what might please her the most about it. He wondered if she’d like the small pond that you could see from the kitchen window, and the large back deck. He liked to imagine Sansa happily cooking with him in the kitchen before they took their meal out to the deck to eat while listening to the frogs croaking, the birds chirping and the insects buzzing down by the pond. The master bedroom was large and the master bath contained an enormous garden tub. He liked to picture Sansa lying back and soaking in the water in the evening with only candlelight around her as soft music played and her scent filled the room…every room of our house.

‘Our house, is a very, very, very fine house. With two cats in the yard, life used to be so hard…’

Are we living in the middle of a Crosby, Stills and Nash song now? ‘Tis nothing but a dream, Jon. A pleasant technicolor daydream that will never be a reality for something like you.

But what if it could be? I already plan to devote all I have to give to her happiness. I’ll never leave her.

But she will leave you. She will grow older and then old. You will not. Someday, she will die.

Not if I…

Could you really do that to her? Are you so selfish that you would condemn her? And what if someday she decides she just doesn’t want you anymore? Then what?

Jon shook off the quarreling babble inside his own head and moved around to the front of the dormitory building. He looked up at her window on the third floor. The lights were on. He could occasionally see forms moving behind the curtains. He told himself he always knew when it was Sansa.

I love her. She loves me. Can’t there be some way?

The hour grew late and it started to rain. He moved out of the street light to watch a bit longer. Just a bit longer, Mom. I promise to go to bed soon. The light in her window went off at last. Just as he had decided to head home, he saw a solitary figure walking down the empty street. And he knew at once, it was one of his kind. And, you are not welcome here.

“Myranda,” he called gruffly, “what are you doing?”

She gave him one of her smiles, one of the ones he’d never liked. It was a coquettish little smile that could chill a person’s blood with the evil that lurked behind it. “Just out for a walk and stalk in the rain. What about you, Jon Snow?” ‘This is where she lives, is it?’ she asked without a word being spoken as she glanced at the dormitory. Her eyes immediately locked on Sansa’s window it seemed and Jon wondered if he imagined that.

‘Yes. Do you mean her harm?’ he thought.

‘No.’

‘If you’re lying, I’ll know.’

‘I’m not lying,’ she replied with a smirk.

“Stay away from her,” he said aloud and she pouted.

Myranda and Jon could communicate telepathically. She could also push thoughts and images onto mortals…she could control them with her mind sometimes. Our little gifts. She wasn’t the best though and she’d become quite enraged when she couldn’t bend others to her will or get what she wanted. Like me. Myranda had wanted to be his mate but he had never been able to see her that way. In time, they’d adapted to a sort of sibling relationship within their little coven but there was always this strange tension from Myranda that he had long tried to ignore. Perhaps ignorance does not always lead to bliss though.

“I was only curious,” she said as she moved up close. “I missed my brother while he was gone from home all weekend.” She put her arms around his waist as Jon tried to draw away. “Did you fuck her?” she whispered in his ear. “I don’t mind if you did but will you tell me about it at least?” she asked next as her hand crept up to cup his cheek.

“Stop,” he said, roughly shoving her away. “You need to stay away from Sansa, Myranda. This is the last time I’ll warn you.”

“Would you really harm me over her?” she asked in a pitiful little voice that did not hide her fury at his rejection.

“Yes,” he replied with eyes as black as pitch and the growl building in his chest. “I would destroy any of you over her.”

“Careful, Jon. Mortals die so easily and in the silliest ways sometimes. Don’t turn against us over things that are out of our hands. But I won’t harm your little friend. You marked her after all…that means you’re bound to protect her for life and all that nonsense that Jaqen tells us.”

Myranda smiled once more before strolling back the way she’d come. And, Jon spent the rest of the night watching Sansa’s building in the rain worrying about whether he could ever hope to keep her truly safe.

A blustery Saturday morning with freshly fallen snow on the ground and Jon Snow kissing her till she was dizzy on the sidewalk outside the dorms until some girls walked by and whistled embarrassing her but apparently not distracting him at all.

“Come on,” she said tugging at his belt. “It’s a good 45 minutes north to reach my parents’ place.”

“What’d you tell them about me?” Jon asked nervously as they pulled away from campus.

“I told my mom that I’d found my soulmate and former husband from my past life. She was beside herself with glee as you may imagine.” Wow…nothing. “And I told my dad that I was bringing home the man I’d fucked a dozen times since last weekend.” His jaw clenched and his hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I’m kidding, you know.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I know. Sansa, I’m nervous.”

“I’m sorry. I won’t joke. I told them that we’d met at a party and that you were a filmmaker and my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” he repeated.

“Yes, boyfriend. Why? You saying you want an open relationship?”

“Not at all.”

“Should I have gone with the husband thing instead?”

“No…I just feel a bit old to be called a boyfriend,” he chuckled.

“Well, get over yourself, Grandma Moses.” He laughed then and she asked about the progress on his place.

“It’s slower going than I imagined,” he confessed. “I can’t wait for you to see it. I’ve almost got rid of all the rats and other vermin,” he said with a strange little smile.

“Rats?” she shivered. Oh, fuck…rats?! “Well, I’m anxious to see it, too…so long as there are no rats. I think my roommates will be excited for me to see it as well.”

“I think you’re enjoying putting the scarlet ribbon to use for a change and making your roommates sit outside.”

“Yes…oh, gods, you noticed that. I do,” she laughed with her head thrown back. “Yes…oh, don’t stop! Yes! Yes! YES, JON! YES!!!!” she cried out next in a perfect imitation of her orgasm from the previous night right before they’d emerged to find Asha and Margaery sitting in the hallway and staring at them with flaming cheeks and mouth wide open for Margaery and an admiring look on Asha’s face.

“If you keep doing that, I’ll have to pull over and fuck you,” he said in that husky voice…the one that drove her wild. “You said we needed to be there by 11:00. It probably wouldn’t leave your parents with a good first impression of me if we showed up late and looking thoroughly debauched. So, are you going to behave for me, my lovely?” he teased.

“Yes,” she said demurely…but then, “Yes…unnn, Jon…ohhh, fuck…Yes! YES!” She moaned and bit her lip and ran her fingers though her hair.

“Oh, fuck me!” he shouted as he swerved to change lanes and pulled off a side road while Sansa squealed and giggled and clung to the door handle.

Over an hour later, they stood on the doorstep making last minute adjustments to their clothes before she knocked. Seven hells, we’re late. And there’s no mistaking that we look and smell like we just had sex in the car.

“We’ll be fine, Jon. They’re going to love you,” she said as she lovingly straightened his collar once more. Gods, please let them love him.

“It’s obvious I just fucked you,” Jon muttered. “Your dad’s going to hate me on sight.”

I wouldn’t worry about Dad, she thought as her mother swung the door open just then with a huge smile on her face…that shriveled up in about five seconds flat.

“Sansa…” she began.

“Mom!” she cried as she rushed to hug her mother. “Hi! Wow! You look great!” Stop shouting, idiot. “This is Jon…my boyfriend. Jon Snow, this is my mother, Catelyn Stark.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Stark,” Jon said quietly.

“Yes…it’s nice to meet you…Jon,” she replied in a stiff tone. “I was wondering what had become of you both,” she said then with eyes that narrowed in confirmation of her suspicions. Oh, shit.

“Made it, did you?” Robb’s voice called out from the doorway to the living room. “Guess you managed to find us then.” Robb walked over and stuck out his hand. “Robb Stark…we weren’t properly introduced on Halloween.”

“Jon Snow,” he replied and Sansa was concerned to see the pallor in his face. Robb’s face contorted with the handshake and Sansa wondered if he planned on breaking Jon’s hand with it…except that didn’t seem to be effecting Jon any while Robb looked close to an aneurysm.

Robb broke off the handshake and then peered over Jon’s shoulder. “Is that your car?” he asked in a mystified tone.

“Come on in,” her mother said before Jon could reply. She sounded a bit frosty but sometimes Mom was like that with new people at first. Please, please…give him a chance, Mom.

“Sansa,” Jon whispered in her ear. “I’m feeling…strange.”

He didn’t look well either. She pressed her hand to his brow but he was cool to the touch. She didn’t get a chance to say anything as Rickon came pounding down the stairs with Shaggydog and Lady on his heels. Sansa greeted her sweet girl and her youngest brother and his dog. She turned to introduce Jon and was shocked by his smile that looked more like a grimace. Bran and Arya were in the living room and shouting about some match being played on the television but waved to Sansa and her date casually before Arya farted at Bran causing him to yelp, curse and throw pillows at her and setting Rickon to cackling. The dogs were running around, barking and yapping and happy that the entire clan was home at last.

She turned to apologize for her wild siblings and the dogs but Jon was staring at them all and clutching at his chest. “Jon? Are you alright?”

“There’s my college girl,” a voice boomed out from the kitchen and in walked her father with Uncle Benjen behind him.

“Dad,” Sansa said.

Ned Stark’s hair was greying and he was carrying more wrinkles than he had five years earlier but he still looked as strong as ever and he laughed and beckoned his beloved daughter over for a hug before turning a warm and welcoming smile on the young man she’d brought home. She’d never brought a boy…well, a man…home to meet the family before and her father realized that this was special, that he was special to her. We can do this. Everything will be just fine.

“Hello, Jon. It’s nice to meet you,” her father said holding out his hand.

Jon smiled awkwardly and started to reply but as his hand touched her father’s, he fainted dead away.

Chapter Text

‘Take away the sensation inside

Bitter sweet migraine in my head

It’s like a throbbing toothache of the mind

I can’t take this feeling anymore'

‘Give Me Novacaine’-Green Day

Family Tree

“Is he dead?”

“No!” Sansa cried. “He’s not dead!”

“Is he on drugs? Do you think he OD’d?”

“Rickon!”

“I’m just saying…”

“I think it’s a valid question.”

“Don’t start, Bran!”

“Boys, put the damned dogs away and shut it!” a man bellowed. Father’s voice.

“Could he be allergic to dogs, Ned? Robb, go and fetch the epi-pen.”

“Alright, mom.”

“Seven hells! He's like a ton of bricks! I can’t lift him.”

“Then, stop trying to lift him, Arya.”

“Sansa, do you know what’s wrong with him?” another man asked. Uncle Benjen.

“He said he has a medical condition.”

“What kind of medical condition, love?” Father prompted.

“I don’t know, Dad! I’m not joining him on doctor’s visits or anything yet.”

“Just screwing him.”

“Shut up, Robb!”

Yes, all of you…shut up. Oh, my fucking head. Stop talking. And please, gods…stop thinking! Shut up, shut up, shut up!

“Gods…please, shut up,” he whined as his eyes opened and he squinted at the faces looming over him. The dogs were still yelping in the background.

“He’s awake!” Arya shouted.

“No shit,” Bran said.

“Bran!” Catelyn yelled.

“Fuck you, Bran.”

“Arya!”

“Cat, get them out of the room,” Father said as he and Uncle Benjen lifted him to the couch. Not my father…not now, not ever. “Are you alright, son?” he asked next and Jon’s chest felt constricted and he feared he might faint all over again. Don’t call me son…I’m already confused.

“Jon,” Sansa said softly and her face came into focus hovering above him. She touched his hand and looked so worried. I can’t have you worrying, my lovely girl. “Are you alright?”

“Hey, you…I’m okay,” he said. “Don’t worry.” I’m just overwhelmed with memories and hearing the thoughts of all these people and seriously freaking out…and wondering if jumping off a bridge might help with that a little. Do vampires have nervous breakdowns? Because that’s what this feels like to be honest. He looked past Sansa’s shoulder to where Father stood next to Uncle Benjen, both peering down at him with concern.

“Are you allergic to dogs, Jon?” Catelyn asked next and he looked back to see her standing behind him.

He slowly shook his head, his eyes widening with fear as he recalled childhood memories long forgotten. Best forgotten. She’s not Lady Stark now. She never laid a hand on me but her coldness hurt worse than any beating. She won’t hurt me now though. Won’t hurt you now? You could kill every one of them in less time than it would take to grab a phone and dial 9-1-1.

“I’m not allergic. I have a…blood condition. My body doesn’t produce red blood cells as rapidly as it should. It sometimes causes me to faint,” he said ruefully as the lie began to grow. “I’m sorry to make such a sorry first impression on you all.” Murmurs of assurance that he was mistaken and they were sorry to hear that and hoped he was feeling better now. There, an easy lie. See, Jaqen? I can lie quite well when needed. He looked over at Sansa who was blinking back tears and holding his hand and felt the crushing guilt at once for lying yet again. Shit.

He felt a hand touching his forehead and saw Catelyn looking him over with the competent eye of an experienced mother. She held the back of her hand to him trying to ascertain if he were running a fever without a doubt. Will you kiss my forehead next?

“No fever,” she said with a warmer smile than any she had ever directed at him in the past. “Would you care for some tea? Or maybe to lie down for a bit?”

“Uh…” Can Sansa join me in lying down? “Just a few minutes lying down should help. I’m very sorry…”

“No,” Father said. Not Father! Stop it, Jon! He’s not your father! He never was! “Don’t be sorry at all. Sansa, take him upstairs to your room so he can rest.”

“Food will be ready in about twenty minutes, Jon, but if you don’t feel up to joining us yet, I completely understand,” Catelyn said.

He was led upstairs by Sansa to a bedroom that was obviously hers when she wasn’t at school. It smelled of her and the soft florals and delicate fabrics made him think of her. There were a few professional looking photographs on the wall of landscapes and a framed painting that he thought she might have done. He snarled silently at the posters of male actors and singers...pretty boys...that were tacked up on the wall as well though they had obviously been there for years. An unwanted image of a teenage Sansa touching herself in her bed while thinking of those men made him angry and he sat there scowling until he noticed her staring at him.

“Jon?”

“I’m fine,” he said as he sat on the edge of the bed.

She came to sit beside him and said, “Jon…it’s just us now. Tell me the truth. What really happened? Was it more memories?”

“Yes,” he said. She figured you out, liar. She knows me. Not all of you though. He was so tired of lying all the time. He loathed it. Tell her some truth today. What you can of it. “Sansa…in our past life together…gods, this is strange for me to say. I can only imagine how strange it will sound to you. In the past, I grew up with your family. I knew them all. From the moment your mother invited me in and we entered the house, I could hear…I could see images of things from long ago. I was just a boy in most of the memories but they were so real. From you uncle to your youngest brother, I knew them. I remembered I loved them. They were my family, too.”

“You grew up with my family? That must be how we knew each other and fell in love then. Were you like a ward or…”

“No…not exactly. I was your first cousin.”

“Ewww,” she said as her face pulled back into an adorable grimace.

“Sansa,” he chuckled, “it wasn’t uncommon back then. It’s not unheard of now.”

“You’re right. Sorry,” she said. Then, she snorted and said, “Gods, my cousins are all…well, trust me. The expression ‘kissing cousins’ would make me gag if you mentioned any of them. But, I guess…well, you’d be my hot cousin.”

He smiled and said, “Actually, it was a bit more complicated than that. I was like a brother to you when we were children. In fact, we were told I was your half-brother, a bastard son of your father’s.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know all the details. She didn’t…I mean, my memories haven’t filled in all the blanks.” Seven hells! Go ahead and drag Melisandre into it next time, why don’t you? That’ll make it nice and complicated. Just keep paddling up shit creek, liar. “Later…the truth was revealed. We fell in love when we were grown. I’m not certain if we knew we were cousins or still thought we were half-siblings when it happened but it happened.”

“Were we parted for a time? I had some dreams the other night. Maybe they were memories. You weren’t a part of them but Father was and Arya…and others that I don’t know.”

Worry crossed her face and he heard flickers of her thoughts…and felt the pain. “Perhaps we were, my love.” I shouldn’t be here. It hurts too much. “Will you tell me of them?”

Before she could answer though, there was a whimper from nearby and Jon’s nostrils flared. Dog. They usually hated his kind. He’d been surprised the other two had not snarled and snapped at his presence.

“Ghost…no, baby,” Sansa said, looking to the floor. Jon turned his head and saw a small pup, solid white, husky or some such breed with red eyes, chewing on a shoe. A tiny little thing. An albino…like my wolf. And she called him Ghost. The little pup came over despite Sansa’s protest and she scooped him up immediately. The memory from the trip back to White Harbor, the memory of finding the wolf pups in the snow came back to Jon. These are not direwolves. They are only dogs. “Sorry, he’s a curious little guy. And he gets into mischief.”

“How many dogs do you have?” he asked, strangely moved to stroke the soft white fur. The pup didn’t growl or bark. He was quiet in Sansa’s arms and he didn’t seem to mind Jon’s touch.

“Just the three. Lady and Shaggydog are from the same litter. Bran trolls the shelter website. He found Ghost on there and then begged Mom to adopt him last month…around Halloween. Ghost, get it?”

“Yeah.”

Not the same exactly then. It was comforting somehow, this incongruity. Still, he felt moved to keep stroking the squirmy little pup and he watched Sansa’s eyes sparkle as she lovingly held the dog. He thought of her singing and brushing out the pup’s coat. No…that was her wolf and another time.

“You want to go down and try again,” she asked after a few minutes.

“Yes.”

They were similar and yet different. A thousand years and who knows how many lifetimes between the people they were then and the people they are now.

“This is all very good, Mrs. Stark,” he said as he passed his plate for seconds. Far better than rats. He was not hungry but he could eat their food. He could almost pretend here that he was like them. But he knew that he was not. Separate from them then, bastard. Separate from them now, beast.

“Thank you, Jon. Please call me Catelyn.”

He sat and slowly toyed with his seconds and observed the Starks and listened to what they were thinking.

Arya was thinking about her boyfriend. Hoping he’d not hurt his foot when he’d taken a tumble while climbing out her window early this morning before her parents were up.

Sansa was still worrying over him. She was chewing her lip and remembering something unpleasant from her dreams he suspected but he couldn’t see her dreams.

Rickon was thinking about video games…and tits.

Benjen thought Jon reminded him of someone he’d met and was puzzling over it.

Ned Stark was wondering if this man at his table was really sleeping with his daughter and telling himself not to think about it and reminding himself that she was grown…and that he had a gun and a shovel.

Catelyn was worrying that the potatoes were overcooked and maybe Ned needed to slow down on the wine.

Robb was thinking…that he wished he could like Jon better because he’d really like a chance to drive his Maserati. And he was wondering what the hell he did for a living to be able to afford a Maserati.

And Bran was thinking about…trees? Weirwoods, crows and climbing stone walls…and smoking pot.

Jon snorted and coughed as though he’d choked on a bite to cover it. What a long, strange trip it’s been.

“It’s time,” Ned Stark announced soon after and Benjen and Robb stood as well as Bran and Rickon. “Jon, we’re taking a hike to the Weirwood that’s in the wood a few miles from here. Do you follow the old gods or the new?”

Neither anymore. “The old gods,” he replied. Sansa’s expression betrayed nothing though he heard her doubts. He had told her came from Dorne. No one in Dorne followed the old gods unless they were a very miserable, displaced Northerner. But he also saw Ned Stark’s eyes widen in surprise…and approval. He was glad he had said it then. With the commotion of others standing and the clearing of plates and cutlery, he leaned into her ear. “I followed the old gods in my past life. I wanted to see something of your father’s beliefs, alright?”

She nodded then and said she’d seem him after. Sansa and her mother went to clean up the kitchen from the meal. Arya drifted away. She wasn’t sure if she believed in any gods. Jon could understand her feelings and respect that she chose not to join the others this time.

Three men, two boys and one undead thing walked through a grassy field behind the Stark’s large two-story home and into the woods that waited. The woods were dark and deep and old…very old. Full of memory…and anger. Alright, Legolas…calm the fuck down.

“These woods once belonged to the Starks, our ancestors, when there was still a Lord Stark in Westeros. The remains of their castle are nearby,” Benjen said to Jon.

“The Starks were once kings as well, ages and ages ago. The kings of winter,” Robb added.

“Oh? What happened to the castle?” he asked.

“Time,” Ned said. “Time and ruin. Some say an earthquake or great fire. Some say war. Some even say dragon fire. Regardless, the castle is a ruin but the Starks have endured.”

“Though we’re hardly lords or kings now, right, Dad?” Rickon laughed.

“Right you are, son,” Ned responded with a gentle smile.

The hike took nearly forty minutes but at last they came to a clearing and found it, a great Weirwood. How this tree had withstood the passage of time, Jon could only marvel. There was a spring of murky water at its base. The tree itself was a sight; the red leaves like bloody hands, the stark white trunk, the face carved into the trunk. And the blood that had watered it. Jon could smell it. Old blood…very old. He felt a chill pass through him as though he was just a mortal who still feared things that went bump in the night.

I’m not afraid of the dark. I am the dark.

The men knelt and Jon knelt with them, not certain of what else to do. But their prayers were silent and spoken between themselves and the old gods. Rickon sat on a great rock by the trunk and looked into the pool of water. Bran walked on into the wood.  Jon bowed his head…and dreamed.

~~~~~~

The whetstone moved across the Valyrian steel slowly. Father sat upon the rock and was cleaning Ice. Jon and Robb watched from the ground, sitting silently together in the damp leaves, not wishing to disturb him.

He had taken them both with him for the first time to see the king’s justice done that morning. At the last second, Jon had looked away…and Father had known. His father’s words had been kind though and he’d spoken to him of a man’s duty, a lord’s duty. But I will never be a lord, the bastard boy thought.

~~~~~~

Robb splashed him with the water and Jon laughed despite his irritation and hurt feelings. He’d been sitting under the Weirwood upon the rock like Father would do, wishing the old gods would listen to him for a change. Theon had been an arse as always but Robb had not said anything to the Greyjoy heir and let him continue his taunts until Jon could stand no more and left them both.

Robb had found him and wanted to make amends. When Jon had refused to acknowledge him, Robb had reached down into the waters and flung a handful in his face.

“ Stop brooding, Snow!” he laughed. “Don’t let him bother you.”

“ Piss off, Stark! I’ll brood if I want,” he said, chuckling at his brother.

“Not if I throw you in the water, you won’t,” Robb warned.

“Maybe I’ll toss you in first,” he replied.

And despite the scolding they got later, they both thought the afternoon had been well spent playfully attempting to drown one another in the hot springs.

~~~~~~

“Sansa,” he choked out as the shame consumed him once more. You are a bastard born of lust. Your own sister. “I’m sorry. I’ve dishonored you.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Jon. I came to you. How have you dishonored me?” She sat beside him on the rock and took his hand. “I love you. Let them say what they will of us in the end but know that I love you.”

“But…”

He didn’t get to finished the thought. She pressed her lips to his and he smelled her sweet scent and he was lost. He pulled her to him, pressing himself as firmly against her as possible, his mouth tasting hers once more. His Sansa. He squashed the shame and kissed his sister Sansa beneath the Weirwood. Let the old gods see. I don’t care. She’s mine and I won’t let her go. He would never let her go even if it meant his damnation.

~~~~~~

There were more, dozens of them but they were all in the past. Jon rose unsteadily and felt dizzy again. The Stark men stood soon after and turned to go. Rickon followed them back the way they’d came. Jon was alone by the Weirwood…he thought.

“The tree remembers us,” a voice called from above. Jon looked up into the Weirwood and saw Bran sitting in one of the branches. “It knows the Starks…and I believe it knows you, Jon Snow.”

“Have you been smoking pot, Bran?” he asked.

“Possibly,” the boy laughed before he leapt down from the tree as graceful as any creature. “Almost time for cake,” he said clapping Jon on the shoulder and hurrying after the rest.

Sansa stood beside her mother waiting for her to pass another pot to dry…and waiting for her mother to speak. Her patience was wearing thin but she could play this game. What are you thinking? What do you think of him? If only I could read minds, life would be simpler.

“Jon seems nice,” her mother said at last. The words were simple to comprehend. The tone was not.

“He is,” she replied, refusing to give too much away until her mother said more.

“Film making sounds…interesting.”

“I suppose. He doesn’t say too much about it.”

“What do you discuss then?”

“Art, school...family.” Past lives.

“Hmmm…” her mother said. “That’s all?”

“We also talk about sex. Would you care to hear more about that?” she snapped. Where the fuck did that come from?

“Honestly, Sansa…don’t be coarse, dear.”

Sansa bit her tongue and rolled her eyes. Everything since they had arrived today had been weird and troubling. Jon was freaking out about the past life thing…and he was lying about shit. She could tell and she hated that. She loved her family but she couldn’t wait to get out of here and away from them all and talk to Jon alone. The few minutes in her bedroom with him and Ghost had been the only peace she’d known since they arrived.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m not myself today.” Her mother raised a hand to her brow. “I’m not sick. I’m just tired and…it’s a bit overwhelming bringing him here. I shouldn’t have pushed him to come. He was nervous and now I see that bringing him here…”

“Has been just fine. Things might have gotten off to a rough start but I’m glad you brought him. Alright?”

“Alright,” she replied. “Look…there’s something about Jon that…I don’t know. It’s like there’s something hidden and unknowable about him in a way. Something that he holds back from me at times.”

“Another woman?” her mother asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“That’s concerning, Sansa.”

“I know.” Gods, I know.

The men returned from their hike over an hour later and the family gathered in the dining room once more to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her dad. The cake was carried in from the kitchen, overrun with candles and the presents were laid out. Jon sat off to the side watching her family and smiling. Ghost came into the room and Jon picked him up and held him close, patting his head and letting the pup chew on one of his fingers in play.

Sansa smiled at him softly. I’m being ridiculous. I love him. He loves me. I’m just ready to get out of here and have him to myself. He turned towards her and lifted an eyebrow and gave her a heated look. I swear he can read my mind sometimes. She looked at him and held his gaze. I want to fuck you…right now. His eyes widened for just a moment and he quickly turned back to Ghost. Hmmm…curious. I want to take you upstairs and suck your cock. I want you to fill my mouth. I want you to grasp my hair and fuck my mouth while I lick and suck you till you’re cross-eyed. I’d swallow your cum and beg for more. His eyes remained on Ghost but there was no hiding the intensity in his features or the way he shifted in his seat and subtly adjusted himself. Are you getting hard for me?

Sansa smirked and walked over to the table grabbing a plate that Uncle Benjen had just sat down. She stalked over to Jon. She could feel the wetness in her panties. She doubted he could really read her mind but the little exercise had wound up making her want him. And, she was certain he wanted her to. She leaned over him as Ghost playfully growled and tugged at Jon’s finger and then started begging for the slice of cake and ice cream in her hand.

“Did you want some?” she asked in a sultry tone right in his ear.

His eyes lifted to hers. “Yes,” he stammered, “very much.”

“Mom, Dad…we’ll need to head back after cake, I’m afraid.”

Chapter Text

‘The soul has no secret that the behaviour does not reveal.’-Lao Tzu

Reveal Yourself

He shuddered and held her to him while her own heart was pounding rapidly from their frantic coupling. They’d barely made it two miles down the road from her parents’ home before he’d pulled onto a dirt road, pushed his seat back all the way and pulled her across the console to him. She’d yelped at his strength and eagerness as he’d pushed her skirt up and nearly ripped her panties in his hurry. He’d apologized and then kissed her like he was suffocating and she was oxygen.

“Well, that was…” he said a couple of minutes later.

“Hot?” she asked with a quirked brow while he kissed the shell of her ear, his hands still caressing her bare ass.

“Gods, yes,” he breathed. “Actually, I was going to apologize for how quickly that was over,” he chuckled. “I didn’t mean to cum so fast but I can’t seem to last long with you.” She giggled and started to slide off his lap. “Stop,” he said huskily pulling her back to him. He was very strong and she tried to wiggle away but he held her firmly to him as though she wasn’t even trying. “Stay right here for a moment…please, my lovely girl.”

“Jon, I need to clean up. I’m all messy.”

“I like you messy like this,” he said with a wicked grin, making her smile in turn. He pushed his nose into her hair and she could hear him breathe deep, inhaling her scent. He pulled back and held her lightly by the chin, studying her face intently next. “Gods, you’re beautiful, Sansa. I’ll never get tired of just looking at you.”

Her smile widened and she leaned back in to kiss him again. Car sex twice in one day. It’s like we’re rabbits. He laughed quietly and released her as she started to move away again. Again, he laughs when I’ve said nothing out loud. He had discarded the condom and was zipping up his pants when she spoke.

“Alright, I just going to say this even though I will probably sound bat-shit crazy. I feel like you can read my mind sometimes,” she said before pulling her partly torn panties on. The satisfied smile on his face fled, his hands stilled and he looked out the window. “Jon? Did I say something wrong?” Did I say something true?

“No…not at all, Sansa,” he said quietly now. The chill in the air was instant. He’d withdrawn from her, not physically but emotionally. What happened? He turned back to face her and it hurt that there was a falsity in his tone when he changed the subject. “So, do you think I made a miserable first impression on your family?”

It was not deftly done. It wasn’t the first time he’d diverted their conversation. She had started to notice but it wasn’t like him to change the topic so clumsily. She wondered if she should answer right away or make him wait. Don’t lie to me.

But he had been so nervous earlier about meeting them all and she loved him dearly. It was not her way to make him suffer.

“No, I think you did alright,” she said at last. “Dad definitely liked you.”

“Except for the shovel and gun comment,” he said wryly then though his face was still solemn from earlier.

“What shovel and gun comment? Oh, my fucking gods! Did he…I’ll scream if he said something so…”

His eyes widened and he looked like he was trying to replay something in his head. “No! I…uh…he didn’t say that. His eyes…he just gave me a look. Sansa, I swear, your father was completely cordial to me the entire time I was there.” He covered his eyes with his hands. “Fuck,” he whispered. He sounded rattled. “I think I’m still a bit tired or something. Do you mind if I take you on back to school?”

“Sure,” she answered coolly as she tried to ignore the sinking sensation in her heart. He was lying, about what precisely she could not say but she’d warned him before about lying.

I can’t be with you if you’re going to lie to me. I won’t be with you on those terms though leaving you would kill me.

There was a panicked sort of look in his eyes now and a haunted one. “Sansa…my lovely girl…”

“Don’t lie to me, Jon. I’ve already said so before.”

“I’m not…” he started to say but he closed his mouth when he looked into her eyes. He knew she didn’t believe him. “Seven hells…Sansa, please believe me when I say I don’t want to lie. My life is…it’s complicated.”

“Complicated? What the fuck does that mean?”

“There’s so much shit and drama in my life that is beyond my control and some other stuff I need to tell you. Most of it doesn’t matter to me when I’m with you. Well, it does matter but I’m not lying about how much I love you. I…”

He reached for her and she pulled away. “Just stop,” she said angrily. “Why can’t you just tell me the fucking truth?! Don’t I deserve that much?”

“You do! Please!”

He reached for her again and she would not have it. You will not sway me with your touch right now. There was something that flashed in his eyes then, something frightening and red that reminded her of blood. There was a rumbling sound in the car and she was surprised when she realized it was coming from Jon. She retreated further from his touch. Starks are not so easily cowed, she told herself.  She pulled herself together and gave him a defiant look. 

He smiled then, that same sad smile he’d given her before and something softened in his features.

“Sansa,” he began again, “I would never hurt you. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. I am lying...well, really I'm hiding some things and it hurts me to do that to you. But, I promise that I will tell you everything about me. I will. There are things about me that you should know. I’m just afraid to tell you. I’m afraid you’ll hate me and not want to be with me anymore.” He placed a hand over his heart. “The thought of losing you…of you not loving me anymore makes me crazy. But, I swear to you, I’ll tell you everything soon. Just not here in the car after everything today.”

“Alright,” she responded. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know anymore. What secret could he be harboring that would make her not want to be with him anymore? What could make her hate him? She loved him so much. The thought of losing him made her feel like her heart was being pierced by a dagger. “I’m tired and it’s been a long day. Just take me back to campus, Jon.”

He didn’t say anything else. He hung his head for a moment before nodding and then began the long drive back. Sansa didn’t know what else to say so she pretended to sleep to be alone with her thoughts. Am I truly alone with them though? she wondered as she glanced over at Jon and saw the agony etched on his handsome face. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly it looked as though he might break it and his jaw was clenched in frustration.  I love you.  Now, what do you keep from me?

 She was in tears when she entered her dorm. They’d kissed good-bye and he’d sworn he’d explain everything later but she still felt hollow inside. When? Can I ever truly trust you?

“Where have you been?” Margaery asked as soon as she entered the room. “Wait…are you alright? Did you and Jon have a fight?”

“Sort of,” she replied evasively. She couldn’t talk about this right now. “We were at my parents’ house today. You know that. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Trystane Martell was found dead this morning outside the library.”

“No! Oh, gods…Margaery, that’s terrible. What happened?”

“I’m not sure. There’s so many rumors and stories circulating. But it sounds like a knife attack or something because the one thing everyone is saying is that he was white as a sheet when he was found and apparently drained of blood.”

Sansa remembered Trystane’s handsome face, his olive skin and easy smile the night he’d taken her and Asha to his uncle’s restaurant, the night she’d got drunk for the first time and sang karaoke. The night Jon took me home and we kissed for the first time.

“This is awful,” Sansa said sadly.

“Yes, and he’s only the latest.”

“You mean Joffrey?”

“Well, he was the first but there’s been two other students that have went missing the past week.”

“Two other…holy shit! I had no idea!”

“Being in love can do that to you, Sans.”

She nodded uncomfortably and felt a strange pang of guilt. She’d been so absorbed in Jon that she’d barely spoken to her roommates and floated along in her own little bubble the past week since they’d first made love.

“Who else?”

“Walda Frey and Waymar Royce.”

“Oh, gods! Walda is in Literature with me. She’s the sweetest person. And, Waymar was my Chemistry partner last semester. We used to flirt a ton but he never asked me out. Are they…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence and Marg pulled her into a hug.

“They’ve not been found. They’re still just missing according to the sheriff’s department but it’s looking more and more like there’s a killer stalking the campus, especially since Joffrey’s not been found.”

It wasn’t a large school. She knew many of her fellow students but somehow, she felt chilled to realize that every single person was someone she’d known quite well. And that nagging feeling she’d had the other day when she’d looked at Joffrey’s missing poster…Jon had been there the last time she’d laid eyes on Joffrey. Was that the last time anyone saw Joffrey alive besides his killer? Assuming he was dead, that is.

‘There are things about me that you should know but I’m afraid to tell you. I’m afraid you’ll hate me and not want to be with me anymore.’

Gods…please don’t let that mean anything like this.

She shook her head. Jon was so sweet and kind and attentive. He couldn’t possibly mean something like that. Maybe he was going bankrupt. Maybe he was using drugs. Maybe he had some horrible past-experience that haunted him. He was no killer. He couldn’t be.

Asha came home soon after and the three young women sat and discussed the horrible happenings on campus. Sansa went to bed very late that night. It wasn’t until her head hit the pillow and her eyes were closing that she realized that Jon had not texted like usual and she had not texted him either.

~~~~~

‘Please, Your Grace. Let me go home. I just want to go home. I promise I’ll do no treason or…’

‘Home?’ Joffrey sneered. ‘You’ll stay right here. My mother is still insisting we marry.’

I can’t marry you, not now…not ever, Sansa thought desperately. How could I have ever wanted you?

Sansa’s lip was bleeding and the king admonished Ser Meryn for striking her face. ‘I told you not her face. I like her pretty.’

~~~~~

Sansa awoke and touched her face. It had seemed so real. Joffrey was in her past, just like Jon had been. But Joffrey had been cruel and hurt her or had others hurt her. And Jon was Jon, sweet and loving in all her memories of him. It was a dream…a memory. And Joffrey will never touch me again.

She shuddered at the callus thought. She had already decided that he was dead and she did not care. What is wrong with me? But then, Sansa thought of Jon and smiled.

“Has she lost her mind?” Jon asked Jaqen as they sat at the kitchen table with Melisandre hovering near the stove and Theon standing in the corner with his arms crossed.

“I don’t know, Jaehaerys. All we know is that she had not returned home and she has apparently decided not to follow my rules anymore.”

“Why? And why just the college students? That’s going to make everyone even more nervous. What do we know of these kids she’s killed?”

“Why does that matter?” Theon asked. “Myranda needs our help to rejoin the coven and see the right way again.”

“It may be too late for that, Theon, but we must try,” Jaqen said.

“’What does it matter?’ How can you ask me that?” Jon said. “She’s targeting kids at the university where Sansa goes. I’ve already spoken to Myranda and you about this. If she means to harm Sansa…” he said in a building roar at the thought of Myranda, a loose-cannon of a vampire, out to seek some sort of vengeance on his beloved because he didn’t want her. “Jaqen, I will destroy her if she comes near Sansa!”

"Myranda has been with us for centuries!  How can you choose your mortal over our sister?!"

“Calm down,” Jaqen said to them both. “Myranda’s always had trouble with control. She is feeding. Melisandre and I believe she is in heat. It makes a female vampire ravenous. The university is close to our home, lots of mortals to choose from. I will seek her and try to get her to see reason again. You two should not be fighting,” he admonished Jon and Theon both. “You should help me and seek to help Myranda. She is part of our family.”

“She’s not my family,” Jon seethed. Sansa is my family.

Jaqen looked at him sharply. “Leave us,” he commanded the others. When they were alone, he spoke again. “Jon, this is a bad time for you to move away. We are stronger together.”

“I can’t be here anymore. My house is nearly ready. I will support you but I can’t…I can’t look upon Myranda the same ever again. She’s already threatened Sansa.”

“And you would destroy us all for her,” Jaqen said. Jon looked up with remorse. Those had been his words. He meant them when he said them. He still meant them but it didn’t mean he felt good about it. “It’s alright, Jon. I bear you no ill will.”

“I bear you none either, Jaqen. You have been good to me. For all the anger and resentment I’ve had over the years about being what I am, you have always treated me kindly and tried to teach me the best you could.”

“We will miss you here,” Jaqen said. “I hope you will be happy with your Sansa while it lasts.”

Jon didn’t have to question what Jaqen meant by that. He knew. She was still a mortal. And I will find a way to end myself when she dies. But first there are truths to be shared.

He’d called her the next morning and invited her to spend the weekend with him at his new place. And then he’d sworn he’d tell her everything she didn’t know about him. Sansa had been anxious for Friday night to arrive. She had missed him terribly. They’d spent very little time together all week. She’d been busy with school and he’d said he was busy getting his house finished.

Jon picked her up at the appointed time and they spent the twenty-minute car ride discussing the disappearances and Trystane’s murder. All the talk on campus about Trystane and the others had turned to vampires of all the ridiculous things.

“I mean seriously? Vampires? I’m a scaredy-cat which I will readily admit but now we’ve got idiots on campus trying to pin this stuff on vampires.”

Jon didn’t laugh with her like she expected but just turned on the radio.

Her parents had called in a panic after the news of the murder had hit the next day and then Robb had turned up on her doorstep that night trying to get her to come stay with him until things settled down again.

“I told him I didn’t want to cramp his style but I partly didn’t want him cramping ours either.”

Jon smiled and said he’d missed her but he wouldn’t have been upset if she’d taken her brother up on his offer.

“Robb loves you, Sansa. He’s just trying to look after you like any good big brother.”

Before long he turned his car up a long and wooded drive. It was already dark but she could make out the log cabin style home in the headlights before he pulled into the garage. Sansa was excited to see his new house and could tell Jon was happy to get to show it to her.

“So…I’ll grab your bag,” he said nervously as they got out of the car.

Jon escorted her in through the kitchen and turned on some lights. He led her through the dining room and into the living room. The house was beautiful, like something out of a magazine. It smelled like fresh paint. It was nicely decorated but felt cozy, too. But one thing seemed odd. She puzzled over it for the rest of the tour of the downstairs until it finally hit her.

No pictures…no family photos. No pictures of friends. Doesn’t he have anyone worth keeping a framed picture of?

Jon was watching her closely as though he was waiting for her approval. “It’s beautiful, Jon,” she said.

“Thank you,” he smiled.

“I like the pond you can see out the back window.”

“I thought you might,” he said before he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “Sansa, I’ve missed you so much this week. And your family’s not alone in their worries for your safety. I’d really like to…well, once we talk and if you’d be willing…shit, I’m so nervous about all of this. Now that my house is finished, I’d like it if maybe you would stay with me. Only if you like, of course.”

“You mean all the time?” she asked incredulously. He nodded. “Like move in together?”

“Sure. But first we need to talk. We’ll see what you think later.”

“Jon, are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ve only known each other a few weeks.”

“It’s longer than that, wouldn’t you agree?” he said.

“Yes but…”

“I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ve still got to tell you about a lot of things tonight.”

She bit her lip and it was her turn to change the topic. “There aren’t any pictures, Jon. Are you…I know you said your parents were dead but isn’t there anyone?”

“No.”

“And the people you were living with?”

“They’re not my family…not really.” He looked pained at the statement. Gods, tread lightly, Sansa. You don’t want to hurt him.

“I’m a bit thirsty,” she said to change the subject yet again.

“I’ve got some wine. I also bought some soda or coffee if you prefer.”

“Wine sounds good. After that perhaps you’ll show me the rest of your home.”

“Well, you’ve seen all of the downstairs.”

“What about the upstairs?” she asked with a smirk.

“I suspected we’d make it there eventually,” he replied with a smirk of his own.

I won’t let us go any further without telling her the truth.

Jon had told himself that in the kitchen when they’d started kissing. He told himself the same as they shed their shoes and jackets at the foot of the stairs. As Sansa was removing his shirt and he was pulling off her sweater, he told himself a final time. But between the kisses and stopping long enough to let her catch her breath and then helping undress each other, he somehow didn’t get around to telling her anything.

Jon, you are such a selfish bastard. Telling her would ruin this and you want this so badly right now.

“Sansa, love…I promised we’d talk.”

“Shush. We’ll talk later. I’m staying all weekend, aren’t I?” she asked as she ran her hands up and down his bare chest making him quiver in anticipation.

He nodded and scooped her up to carry her to the master bedroom.  She shrieked with delight and he tried to ignore his guilt. 

It was a large room with a king-sized bed and freshly decorated in a style that he hoped would please Sansa. If not, he’d gladly let her redecorate it, every room if she wanted. He didn’t care. He just wanted her here with him and happy. He just hoped she’d be willing to listen to him and give them a chance still once he told her the truth.

Part of him wanted to keep lying about what he was. He feared her reaction. Her mentioning vampires in connection to the murders had frightened him. You have no idea how right those idiots are, he thought.

He was still trying to fight what he wanted to do with her versus what he needed to be confessing when she sank to her knees before him and pulled down his underwear. He watched her eyeing his cock but still was surprised when she took him in her mouth. His head rolled back and he moaned. She hummed around his cock in response and he was biting at his lip with that sensation in conjunction with her busy little tongue.

“Fuck, sweet girl. I can’t think straight with you doing that.” She only hummed again and continued licking and sucking at him. “Love, please…I’m hungry for you. I want to fuck you,” he said before he could climax in her mouth.

As pleasurable as that might be, he wanted to feel her wrapped around him. He reached down and lifted her up. She’s light as a feather, he thought again as he reminded himself to watch his strength. He carried her to the bed and laid her across it. Her eyes were dark with desire as he leaned over her body to kiss her mouth once more. Sansa spread her legs beneath him and urged him to her center with her hips.

“Please, Jon…now. I want you so bad,” she moaned between kisses.

“Ah, fuck! Sansa!” he shouted as he plunged into her. “Gods, I love you. I feel whole only when I’m inside you, love. Did you know that?” he asked as he started thrusting. He got only moans and whimpers in response and he didn’t care. “That’s right. You’re mine, aren’t you? Fuck, you are so beautiful and hot. I want nothing more than to spend eternity buried in your cunt while I suck your tits, did you know that?”

“Gods…don’t stop,” she cried. “Keep…ahhh…talking.”

He kept his hips moving and his mouth was at her ear whispering all the dirty things he’d like to do with her.

“I want your cunt. I want your ass. I want to fuck your mouth with my cock and then eat your pussy till you scream for me to stop. Ohhhh…fuck. Sansa, I could fuck you all weekend. Will you let me? Gods, I can go day and night for you. Would you let me do that?” She made a faint noise of assent as her cries grew louder.

“Yes,” she hissed. “Like that. Fuck me hard and make me yours.”

“You’re already mine,” he said as he started pounding harder. He grasped her hips tightly and heard a slight winch escape her but he was too preoccupied to notice just then. “You’re mine. I’m want to fuck you every day. Say you’ll let me, love.”

“I…Gods, Jon! Don’t stop! I’ll let you…fuck…unnn…I’m about to come.”

“That’s right…come for me. Only me, Sansa. I’m the only one…uhhh…that gets to…shit…have you…Gods!”

“Yes! Yes! Jonnnn….” she screamed as she came with him.

"I'll never let you go, my lovely," he swore as she trembled with her climax.

They lay abed together in a tangle of limbs for a while afterwards, just kissing and holding one another. It was getting later, nearly ten o’clock. And he still hadn’t told her a damned thing.

He had gone back downstairs earlier to turn all the lights off and had brought her a plate with an apple and some cheese along with more wine. She was sitting on the bed wearing only her panties and his shirt while eating the apple and grinning at him. So, beautiful…I love seeing her like this.

The lighting was very low but when he came back in he spotted the bruises. He knew he had gotten too rough again.

“I’m sorry,” he said as his traced a new bruise on her hip with his fingertips.

“It’s fine,” she said.

“It’s not,” he said sadly. “I didn’t mean to be so rough. May I draw you a bath and then we can talk if you’re not too tired?”

“I’d like that. Will you wash me?”

“Gladly. I will gladly pamper you, my lovely.”

They entered the large bathroom and Sansa gasped. “This is huge! My dorm room would fit in here. And that tub…definitely made for two, I think,” she said suggestively. “Wait…where’s the mirror?”

“Oh…it’s on back order. It’ll be delivered in a week or two.” Since I purposely broke it…not technically a lie.

He started the water and Sansa roamed about the shelves looking at his array of health and beauty supplies he’d bought on a whim trying to make sure he had whatever she’d like.

“Ooh…fancy bubble bath. Why would you put it in a glass bottle though? That’s just an accident waiting to happen.”

She tipped the bottle into the running water and inhaled deeply. It smelled nice…but not nearly as nice as her.

She took off his shirt and her panties and climbed into the tub with a happy sigh. Jon sat on the edge of the tub in just his underwear watching her lie back and enjoy the warm, soapy and scented water.

She’d pulled her hair up into an untidy bun but tendrils were still hanging loose. They were wet and dark red and plastered to her neck and he wanted nothing so much as to touch and play with it when he heard something not quite right, a quiet chink and then whispers. His sharp ears could hear the sounds. They were coming from downstairs.

An intruder? Or one of the others?

Sansa stirred as he rose from the tub. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Sansa, I heard something downstairs. Stay up here, love. I’ll go check and be right back.” Her eyes were full of sudden worry. “Don’t be afraid,” he said assuredly. “It’s probably nothing at all.” He knew it was something by now but he wanted her safe and he wanted her to stay right here.

Jon moved swiftly through the bedroom and hall and then silently down the stairs, listening to the hushed conversation between two men, two men that did not belong here. Two men that might not pose any threat to him but he would not risk them harming Sansa.

“Something’s not right,” he heard one of them say.

“Stop pissing and moaning, Chett. Everything’s fine,” another man said.

“The place looks different, Rast. It’s cleaner and there’s keys on the counter. I think someone’s living here again.”

“It’s dark. How the hell can you tell it looks different? Besides, Karl will be here soon with the stuff and then we can leave.”

Jon read their thoughts as he edged closer. They were here to buy drugs. They’d been using the abandoned house for months to meet their dealer. Jon spared a moment to think of Sansa upstairs before he decided how to act. He flicked on the lights in the kitchen. He hoped it would be enough to scare them away.

At first, it seemed it would work. They jumped as though they would flee but then they got a look at him. He would’ve laughed at the picture he probably presented if he hadn’t been so focused on eliminating this threat to Sansa.

I’m standing here in my underwear, obviously unarmed. I doubt I look remotely intimidating…but looks can be deceiving.

“You alone here, pretty boy?” Rast asked.

Jon smiled and said, “You should both leave.”

The men laughed and Chett pulled a gun from behind his back. “I don’t think we will. You got company?” he asked.

Rast snorted and answered, “Good looking boy like him?  I’ll just bet he does. Shall we go and take a look, Chett?”

Jon moved so fast that it was a miracle Chett managed to fire the gun. He felt the bullet strike his chest and rebound just as he put his hands around Chett’s neck and broke it.

Rast was standing, frozen in place like a statue with his mouth hanging open. But when Jon opened his mouth to reveal his fangs, his knees buckled and he started to scream. Jon easily caught his weight in his arms and then brought his fangs to the man’s neck and sunk his teeth in deep. As the hot coppery taste filled his mouth, the blood lust took over. I’ll taste the other one next.

He could feel the blood spilling from the corners of his mouth. Rast was already dead but Jon was still sucking and licking his neck to get every possible drop when he glanced up and saw her standing in the doorway watching with horror and revulsion. Oh, gods…no!

Sansa, his beauty and his love, wearing nothing but his shirt and her panties had seen him. She saw him for the monster that he was at last…as he feasted on a mortal.

“No!” he roared though he knew it was too late.

All his strength and abilities were nothing to him now. He could not turn back time or make her forget what she’d just seen. She screamed and turned to flee.

He started after her but before he could leave the kitchen, the backdoor was opening again.

“Chett? Rast? What’s going on in here?”

The man stepped into the kitchen as if he were in a trance. His two customers lay on the floor and a young man with curly black hair and blood dripping from his mouth was standing over them in just his underwear. Karl opened his mouth to scream, to shout for help that would never come. No sound escaped before the young man was on him, at his neck and his teeth were so sharp.

Chapter Text

‘You cannot quit me so quickly

Is no hope in you for me?

No corner you could squeeze me?

But I’ve got all the time for you love’

‘The Space Between'- Dave Matthews Band

Confessions of a Vampire

This can’t be real. This can’t be real. Please, don’t let this be real. His eyes were red. He had fangs. He was drinking that man’s blood. He killed them both…this can’t be real.

Sansa was sobbing. She trembled and cried and couldn’t find her shoes. She cursed her panicked state that had led her to run back upstairs to the bedroom. She had closed and locked the bedroom door but now doubted that would stop him.

Should’ve went out the front door, you stupid! And then what? Waited for him to hunt you down in the woods, in your undies?

A hysterical laugh passed her lips. She looked in the mirror at herself. Her hair was wild from their love-making and her bath. Her eyes were wilder…filled with terror.

You could’ve stolen his car. The keys were in the kitchen, idiot. Yeah, you just needed to walk past him and say, ‘Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt your murdering but I need to borrow your car.’

She looked under the bed for her shoes before accepting the truth at last. Fuck! They’re downstairs.

She yelped when he politely knocked on the door. “Sansa,” he said, his voice loud enough to carry through the door but calmer than she expected. “I really need to talk to you, love.”

“Go away!” she shouted. Seven, save me. What am I going to do? “Stay away from me! I don’t want to talk to you…whatever you are.”

“You already know what I am. I know you saw me. I told you what I was the night we met, you know.”

“Seven fucking hells…it was Halloween, Jon! How the fuck was I supposed to know you were telling the truth? That you’re a…a…”

“Vampire. I think that’s the word you’re looking for.”

“Fuck,” she whispered.

He is…he’s a vampire. Your ‘soul mate’ is a fucking bloodsucker…of course. I need to get the fuck out of here. She ran over to the window and looked out. Too far down. I don’t want to fucking jump. Might be better in the long run though.

“Sansa, please…don’t! Just listen to me. I’m not just a vampire. I’m a man…”

“You’re a monster!” she raged. You’re a liar! And now I know why.

“Fine! A monster then!” he shouted back before reverting to his civil tone again. “I’m still someone who loves you. No matter what I am…above all else, I love you with all my heart and soul. I just want to talk to you, my lovely. Please…I’d never hurt you.”

“No. I don’t want to see you or talk to you…ever again!” That’s a lie, Sansa.

“That’s a lie, Sansa. And I can’t anyway. I’m bound to you. I can never stay away just as I can never harm you.”

“Yeah, you probably say that to all your victims.” He was laughing softly on the other side of the door. “You…you killed Joffrey, didn’t you? And Trystane? And Waymar and Walda? Granted, Joffrey was an asshole but the others…they were decent people. They were my friends. I don’t want to see you, Jon. I don’t want to look at you.”

“Sansa, I swear I didn’t kill Trystane or the other boy or the girl either. Please, it’s past time that I confess some things but I need to see you, love. I can’t stand this. You’re in pain and it’s all my fault but you won’t let me see you. Please.” Sansa heard the doorknob rattle. A soft sound…and a menacing one. “You know I can get in if I want,” Jon said next. There was a threat in his tone now. “No door can keep me from you if I want in. I wish you’d just open it.”

Why does his voice make me quiver? Make me want to throw the door open and welcome him in? Sansa wanted him near. She wanted him away. She loved him. She hated him. She looked for something she could use, some weapon. Nothing, not even a baseball bat. She retreated closer to the bathroom. Oh, what the fuck can you do but open up? He’ll just break the damn door down and eat me anyway.

“I’ve never cared much for baseball, Sansa, and there’s only one part of you I want to eat. And I’ve already feasted on that sweetness more than once. When I said I wanted to spend eternity buried in your cunt earlier, I meant it. And, I don’t care if it’s my cock or my mouth that we’re talking about either.”

Sansa’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know what I was thinking? The baseball bat and the eating me?”

“I can read your mind, Sansa,” he replied simply. Sansa’s blood ran cold and she felt weak. “I know you’ve been wondering about that for a while now, haven’t you?” I knew it! “Yes, you were right. It’s not just you. I can read the mind of mortals and the undead as well…but no one else’s voice affects me the way yours does.”

“If that’s true, what am I thinking right now?” Sansa was terrified and knew she was just stalling for a way out of this nightmare but she thought up the craziest image she could.

“Why would Batman be riding a unicorn over a rainbow while shooting a bow and arrow exactly?” he called through the door with a laugh. Holy Fuck! “You do use the word ‘fuck’ quite a bit in your thoughts and aloud. I confess it gets me rather excited.”

“Stop it! Just stop it! You think this is funny?”

“No, I don’t think it’s funny at all. It’s breaking my heart just as it's breaking yours. I’m so fucking afraid right now because you’re going to try and stop loving me. You’ve already begun erecting your walls between us while you hide on the other side of this door. But, Sansa…I’ll tear down those walls and break down this door to reach you. I’ll never stop loving you.”

“Stop reading my mind!”

“I can’t help it. It’s like the other thing, the vampire thing. I have no say in it.” He was silent for a moment and Sansa stood there thinking of all the things she’d thought in his presence. It was more than him being a monster. He’d invaded a part of her that was supposed to be hers alone. It was more vexing, more troubling, more of a violation than her undead boyfriend eating people. If he could read her mind, there was no way to escape him, no way to ever just be herself and alone even for a little while. “I’m sorry, Sansa. I don’t mean to do it. I still love and respect you for who…”

“Respect me?” she scoffed. “You’ve lied to me time and time again. I’m realizing now…with each second that everything about you is a lie.”

“It’s not. I love you.”

“You love fucking me is all!” she shouted. “You love the idea of me, I think,” she sobbed next.

“Don’t tell me what I feel, Sansa,” he growled then. “You have no idea how much I need you! You don’t know what I’d do for you!”

The volume of his voice wasn’t so loud and yet the intensity and anger were hard to disguise. She was too angry to be intimidated though.

“Were those dreams of the past just some mind fuck you pulled on me like all your other lies? Did you work some sort of magic? Warp my mind into believing we shared a past?”

“No! That was…our past and everything we’ve learned was…unexpected. I had no idea the night we met.” She huffed in disbelief. “That’s not a fucking lie! We shared that past and…”

“Just go away, Jon,” she sighed, too tired and heartbroken just now to be frightened.

She wondered how to get out of this situation. How do I go back to a normal life now? She just wanted to go back to her twin bed and her dorm and forget this night. She wanted to wake up and learn this was just a dream. She wished she’d stayed upstairs as he’d said and never seen. No. Better to know the truth than let him continue his lies. She could not change any of it. She wished she could forget she’d ever met Jon Snow. I cannot love a monster, can I? But how do I stop loving him?

“Open the door, Sansa,” he said then. The same calm voice as earlier but not really calm at all. He was no longer speaking sweetly. He was no longer laughing. He was desperate. “Open the door or I will.”

“Open it then!” she challenged.

The door burst inward in the next instant and there he stood. She yelped but couldn’t help staring at him. His hair was a mess, his eyes were ablaze, his body was all chiseled, lean muscle as he stood there in just his boxer briefs. Every fiber of him throbbed with a contained desire and fury and fear.

He looks like a fucking god…a fucking god of the underworld! she thought as she ran towards the bathroom. It was less than five feet from her whereas he was at least fifteen feet away. But he was far too fast. Too fast to even see properly.

He met her at the doorway to the bathroom. Sansa shrieked and pulled awkwardly out of his grasp. She suspected she couldn’t have pulled free if he didn’t let her.

She stumbled into the countertop and the bottle of bubble bath she had used earlier crashed to the floor and shattered. A thousand shards of colored glass flew and pierced her bare legs and feet like tiny pieces of shrapnel. Jon moved to her, his face full of nothing but concern now. Sansa cried out in pain before she fainted.

~~~~~~

The mob pressed in on all sides, silent but full of wrath. The hate poured off them all like a living thing. Joffrey did not see it. He was a fool but the Imp saw and so did Queen Cersei. The guards were nervous. They felt that hate and knew what it meant.

Sansa shivered in fear but what could the small folk really do? He was the king and they were just small folk. They can’t attack the king. Not with all the knights and guards and the Hound here.

Whoever threw the dung at Joffrey, Sansa would never know. She heard Joffrey’s furious bellow and the beginning of the end of all sanity. All she knew after were rough hands pulling her, tugging her away, hurting her. She had wanted to die, to drown in her misery for so many moons now. But, when she felt those hands on her and saw the faces of mad men screaming at her, making their vile threats, she knew she only wanted to live. She fought and resisted. It would have been all for naught though. She was not strong enough to escape this many men. She was a little girl and they were going to hurt her no matter how much she screamed…just as Joffrey and his knights did. She wanted to scream for Father or Robb or Jory to come and save her. But Father and Jory were dead and Robb was far away.

Suddenly, the hands released her and there were screams of men dying, the men that had been trying to hurt her. A scarred and furious visage swam before her eyes. No true knight, more like a monster. But a monster had saved her all the same. He had killed the men that meant her harm. And Sansa was glad of it.

~~~~~~

The sting of antiseptic roused her and she gasped. Her eyes flew open and she realized she was lying on the bathroom rug near the large tub. She lifted her head enough to look down at where he hovered over the lower part of her body. She couldn’t see his face. Just the top of his head.

What kind of monster are you?  Are you my monster?

"Be still,” he said softly. His hands felt warm on her flesh. The cuts hurt but his touch was soothing.

“What are you doing?” she asked numbly. The tears were already gathering in her eyes. Why must you be gentle with me now? Why can’t you let me hate you? She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to love him.

He looked up and she saw the hurt, the pain in his expression. He can read my mind.

“I’m treating your injuries,” he said.

“Thank you, Dr. Cullen.”

“Funny,” he said grimly as he continued. “The bleeding won’t stop.”

“Sure you’re not just hungry?” she said bitingly.

“No!”

“I guess the two burglars were enough to fill you up then.”

“Technically, they were not burglars. And there were three of them.”

“Shit,” she whimpered as her head lowered back to the floor and her chest felt ready to explode with the tears she was holding back.

“Sansa, I think I’ll need to take you to the hospital.”

“Great. Maybe you can get me checked out by a psychiatrist while we’re there.”

“I…there’s another way but I won’t do that.”

“What?”

“I could make the bleeding stop but…”

“But what?”

“You won’t like it probably. It would involve me…you know…” He gestured to his mouth and looked at her beseechingly, trying to make her understand.  “I don’t want to say.”

“You vant to suck my blood?” she said in her best Bela Lugosi accent. He looked up at her nervously. “Oh gods…you do, don’t you?”

“I don’t want to but there are spells. I can drink your blood and seal the wound…never mind. Let’s get dressed and go to the ER.”

“Try it,” she said and gasped at her own words. What the fuck, Sansa? Are you serious? You’re asking the vampire to drain you.

He chuckled and said, “I won’t drain you. It won't hurt either.”

He lifted her right foot so she could see the top of it and Sansa propped herself up on her elbows. He removed the cloth he’d been holding to it. She winced at the ugly gash and watched as the blood pooled and began to seep out at once, dark red and thick. She never had liked seeing blood, even fake blood. And this was her blood, oozing out and making her feel light-headed all over again.

“Make it stop,” she said softly.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

Am I? She only nodded.

He tilted his head down towards her foot and laid a soft kiss to the skin above her gash. His tongue darted out. Something sizzled in the air it seemed. She wanted to feel it, his tongue on her like this.

The tip of his tongue met the blood that had already started to trickle down towards her ankle with gravity’s help. He licked her ankle; once, twice, three times…How many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop?

Jon moaned and his eyes closed. His face looked just like it did when he came and Sansa felt flushed. His mouth closed over her cut, not hot and hungry but softly and tenderly. He lapped, he licked, he sucked. His eyes fluttered up to meet hers, questioningly. And all the while he drank…gently, so gently but never stopping. Sansa felt overwhelmed…and wet.

“Oh gods,” she breathed as her head lolled back.

“Look at me,” he growled. “Watch, love.”

She raised her head again, unable to refuse his command. She watched his tongue lap at her. She wanted that tongue on her clit. She watched his mouth close over her wound again. She wanted his mouth on her pussy. She felt him sucking and wanted him to suck at her clit that way. She wanted to suck him, too. He groaned at that. Sansa glanced down where he was on his knees between her feet, the injured one pressed again his chest and the other on the floor. She could see his erection straining against his underwear.

He pulled his mouth off her foot at last and Sansa was breathless. She panted. She wanted to put her hands down her panties and touch herself. She wanted Jon to do that even more. He closed his eyes and chanted words that made no sense, soft and quiet. She looked from his eyes to her foot. The cut remained but it no longer bled.

“What have you done?” she asked.

“Healed it. Tasted you. And now I want to taste you again,” he finished as he reached for her panties and ripped them from her body. “Tell me you want that, too,” he begged. She didn’t make a sound of protest. She spread her legs as though she’d known all along what he was going to do. “Say it, Sansa.”

“Do it,” she whispered.

“Let me love you, Sansa. Let me show you that this part of me,” he said while clutching at his chest where a heart would beat in a normal man, “does not a lie.”

He lowered his head and Sansa was already babbling his name before his lips ever touched her; this man she was going to love forever, this monster she meant to leave forever.

He licked her folds, just as he had licked her foot. He lapped up her juices, just as he lapped up her blood. His mouth closed over her clit. He tongued it, gently sucking. His eyes never left her face. She shuddered and cried out his name soon after. Her toes were curled up in ecstasy and her fists were clenched in his hair.

He pulled her up to a sitting position. She was only wearing his shirt and he was only wearing his underwear. She wanted him to fuck her now. She wanted it badly despite all the reasons she shouldn’t. But now was not the time for fucking. It was the time for talking.

He pulled her hand to his face and kissed it. She stroked his beard. There was still a little blood there. Whether it was hers or from the men downstairs, she didn’t know. She reached up and rubbed it away. There…you’re clean.

“I’ll never be clean, Sansa. You can never wipe or wash or scrape away what I am. You cannot kiss it better. I could spend three years in this bathtub and I would never be clean. The entire ocean could not cleanse away what I am.”

He started to cry then and something shifted in her heart. That part of her that wanted to reject him, to run away and forget him…that voice grew weaker. She was fashioned for love…no matter what it cost her. He wept and buried his face in her hair.

“Sansa, I love you. I don’t deserve you. I never will. Maybe the Jon Snow from before was worthy of you but I am a beast. I didn’t want you to find out like this. I swear I’ve wanted to tell you. I don’t blame you if you don’t ever believe this or anything I ever say again but I actually planned on telling you this weekend. But I didn’t. I didn’t because I wanted you so badly earlier and I didn’t want to frighten you.”

“So, you waited for a more appropriate time like when you killed two…”

“Three.”

“Three burglars downstairs and sucked their blood?” she asked, giving him a faint smile.

“A drug dealer and his customers actually and yes...though that was not what I intended.”

She sighed and shook her head. Despite the intimacy they’d shared, she still didn’t know what to do and wasn’t sure there was any hope for them.

“I said it before…I don’t know if we’re meant to have a happily ever after, my love. I’m not sure that our story will ever have that. But, I believe we’re meant to be together. Will you let me explain at least? Let me tell you all of it? All that I know anyway.”

“And then what?” she asked.

“If you want to leave afterwards, I’ll drive you home,” he said.

“And if I want you to leave me there and never bother me again?” Another sob escaped him but she had to see if he was willing to heed her wishes whatever they were. If you love me, you have to be willing to let me go. “I’ll…I can’t promise I’ll not follow you.” She crossed her hands over her chest. “But…if you’ll just listen to me…and then if want me to leave you alone, I will. I’ll never bother you again. You’ll never know I’m there,” he finished with a sigh.

She was a good listener. She didn’t interrupt except with an occasional question to clarify something. She sat on the bed still in nothing but his shirt. She had no idea how damned distracting that was.

He thought of the bathroom, the blood and her cunt, the tastes and smells of Sansa driving him insane. He’d been mad with desire then. He’d been mad for her the instant he saw her standing in the doorway of the kitchen in truth.

And the longer she’d denied him when he stood outside the door…it had taken every last bit of restraint not to rip the bedroom door off its hinges.

He wanted her now. Tasting her blood and eating her out had done nothing to slake his thirst for her. It only made him want her more. But right now, losing her, losing her love was the greater fear, the greatest fear of all…and a likely outcome. He could not blame her. He could not lose her.

Now was the time to confess as he’d sworn to do. And will you let me touch you at all when I am done?

“Could you get me pregnant?” she asked.

“Yes, but the child would be a hybrid and in danger from my kind.”

“How often do you commit murder? Oh, I’m sorry…how often do you kill people to feed?”

There was a teasing tone there…he hoped. She’s so damned confused and I cannot read her intent. “Usually once or twice a year. It’s not something I usually enjoy although lately I may have enjoyed it more than I care to admit. I normally survive on the blood of animals.”

She sat while he paced, relating all he could, all that was worth telling, trying to cast off the yoke of his lies and deceits. He told her about his ‘family’ and how he had been changed. He told her all he knew about the Sansa Stark she had been and the Jon Snow he had been. He told her what Melisandre had told him since they’d met and started remembering the past. He told her about the empty and meaningless life he had endured for centuries.

“My little family or coven…I used to be content there but now I’m not. They’ve always considered me the odd one for not enjoying being what I am. But, since I met you…so many things I had begrudgingly accepted have lost any meaning for me. I want to be with you and only you.”

At first, he thought she was handling this all rather well. She was quiet and attentive. But the more he talked, the less she would look at him. He could hear her thoughts and they were breaking his heart. She still loved him but was trying to harden her heart, trying to let him go.

“Please, Sansa…I know what you think you must do. Don’t do this. Don’t turn against me like this.” She looked up at him and he fell to his knees before her. “Please…I’ve been without you for so long. I’d forgotten you. I have no idea how I could’ve ever forgotten you but now that I remember…”

“You love a memory, Jon.”

“No! I love you, I swear it. I love you as you are now. I don’t remember that other girl anymore except in flashes of memory.  I told you, all the memories faded when I changed. But I love you, Sansa Stark, and I’d rather die than go on without you.”

She looked at him curiously then. “Can you die?” she asked.

“Yes, there are a few ways I can…um, decapitation and burning supposedly work though it’s tricky. The fire has to be hot enough. Another vampire can…well, that kind of thing. Jaqen mentioned another way but there is no dragon glass anymore.”

“Stake through the heart?” she queried as though she were asking questions during a lecture.

“Only if it’s made of Weirwood.”

“Interesting,” she said. “There are very few Weirwoods left. The one you hiked to with my father, uncle and brothers the other day is the only one I know of near here.”

“Are you planning to kill me?” he asked jokingly.

Sansa did not answer that but instead asked, “Did you kill Joffrey?”

Jon cringed. He didn’t want to answer this and possibly drive her farther from him. There was no denying the truth now though.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He wanted to hurt you. His thoughts were so vile and I knew he’d come after you again. I had planned to feed that night anyway. I’m sorry.” Actually, still not a bit sorry for that.

“You’re not a bit sorry, Jon.” He looked up to see her smiling at him. Is she glad he’s dead? Did I just get some brownie points for offing old Joffrey? But her smile soon fled. “What about the others?”

“Myranda, the female vampire in our coven, Jaqen thinks she’s in heat. It makes a female vampire ravenous. She’s not complying with Jaqen’s rules but perhaps she can’t help it.”

“Gone off the reservation a bit?”

“Yes, but there’s more to it. She…Sansa, Jaqen changed her at Melisandre’s request. They intended her to be my mate. I’ve never seen her that way but she has…expressed her interest over the years. She’s very angry that I left them for you.”

“And her choice of victims may not be random?” He nodded. “Fuck, Jon. Are you telling me some crazy-ass bitch vampire is coming after people I know because she’s jealous…of me and you?”

“Maybe.”

“Gods.”

“I’m sorry,” he said as he moved up to sit beside her on the bed.

“You should be. What if she comes after…”

“She can’t. I marked you. Shit! That’s another confession I need to make. I marked you that first night in your dorm. The mark on your neck, I bit you but took no blood.” Sansa reached up and touched the small remains of the puncture marks. “It’s how we claim a mortal as ours. I did it to protect you but also because I wanted you to be mine. I’ve been told that once I’ve marked you, I’ll be bound to you. I will follow you for the rest of your life. If you don’t want me around, I’ll disappear and stay out of sight but I’ll always be near if you need or want me. Either way, when you die, I plan to end my own existence.”

She waved his words of self-sacrifice and protection away. “What about my family?”

“What about them?”

“Did you mark them, too, or are they potentially in danger from this Myranda?”

“I…gods, I don’t know.”

“You want to protect me…”

“More than anything.”

“But you can’t protect me from everything. Sooner or later, I’ll die. And you can’t protect my family and…”

He pulled here into his arms. He was tired of talking, tired of confessing. Her thoughts were a jumble and he couldn’t make out what she was thinking…which way she was leaning. It was so frustrating when he was used to being able to read her thoughts so clearly.

“Please, don’t give up on me just yet,” he begged.

She let him hold her. He was grateful for this…even if it was all she would ever willingly give him again. He listened to the steady beat of her heart, the easy rhythm of her breathing in and out. He inhaled the sweet scent that was Sansa, his Sansa. He’d sworn he’d leave her alone if she told him to but in his soul, he knew he lied. He could never willingly leave her.

‘If you love me, you have to be willing to let me go.’

I do love you…but I can never let you go, I fear. I’m simply not that strong.

“Jon? When you helped me earlier with my foot, what did it feel like to you?”

“It felt good.”

“And I saw…you were aroused.”

“Gods, yes. So very aroused.”

“Is it like that when you feed?”

“No. That was different. It was you for one thing but it was different. Your blood tastes better than anything I’ve ever had…except for maybe your cunt.” A shocked laugh escaped her lips and Sansa covered her face. The heaviness in his chest lifted a fraction. If I can make her smile, make her laugh, will she be willing to give me another chance? “Did you like it?” he asked.

“You know I did. You can read my mind.”

“I’d rather hear it from you lips.”

“I was wet for you. I liked it, alright? But I liked what you did after even better.” She pushed away from him with a groan and stood. “What am I going to do?”

“What are we going to do?” he replied.

His shirt hung open on her body. Nothing was covered really. Her perfect breasts, her smooth, creamy torso, her mound and it’s dusting of auburn hair and those legs that went on and on.

“I don’t know. What about them?” she asked.

“Who?” he asked vacantly.

His eyes had moved to her lovely face, her bright blue eyes and waves of fiery hair.

“The dead men downstairs, Jon,” she said in exasperation.

“Right,” he said, bringing himself back to more urgent matters. “I’ll take care of them.”

Sansa smiled and pulled him to his feet. She put her arms around his neck. “You know this is fucking mad, right?” she asked.

“Yes…does this mean you’ll give me a chance still?” Hope grew in his chest. It was nearly choking him. He ached for an answer and feared it, too.

“I prefer to think I am being open minded for the time being and considering not running away from you screaming bloody murder just yet,” she said. She kissed the corner of his mouth…then she licked it. He could tell she was tasting blood. Her face remained impassive but something flickered in her eyes and Jon nearly groaned with arousal at the wicked thought she had just then. She wants me. “You’re not going to turn into a bat, are you?” she teased as he pressed himself to her.

His cock was already hard. She knew but she would not acknowledge that just yet.

“No, that’s made up,” he said unevenly. “Sansa…can I…”

“Good,” she continued, ignoring the pitiful state he was in. “I hate bats.”

He allowed himself a smile as he looked at her imploringly. Sansa took his shirt off, tossing it on the floor, and laid down on the bed. She slid under the covers as naked as her name day and stifled a yawn.

“Get rid of the bodies first and then come back to bed and fuck me some more."  He was already sprinting to the door when she stopped him.  "And, Jon?” 

“Yes?” he asked, ready for any challenge or task she asked of him.

“I’m going to need some more wine.”

“Yes, Sansa. Whatever you want,” he finished with a bow.

He could still hear her laughing as he flew down the stairs to do her bidding.

Chapter Text

‘I got troubled thoughts

And the self-esteem to match

What a catch, what a catch’

‘What a Catch, Donnie’-Fall Out Boy

Just Asking

“Tell me why?” she demanded again.

There was a brightness to her eyes warning him of the tears that threatened. But Sansa was harder than she looked and she would not shed them now. Perhaps it would be easier if she did, he thought. At least then she might let me hold her.

“I told you why,” Jon sighed, holding his head. He had asked her to meet him here in the godswood to escape the eyes and ears of the castle when he told her…not to argue with her. He should’ve known better though. She was never going to be pleased with this decision. “Sansa…we cannot hope to stand against the Dead without help, without her help…”

“We belong together. You belong here in the North. You are our king. Our foe lies to the North, not South. We are stronger together.” She voiced dropped. It was tremulous, tender…and full of pain. “After all we have meant to one another, you would leave me?”

“I’m not…”

He could not continue though. He was leaving her but not the way she meant it. He was a selfish bastard to have lain with her when he knew the pain it would cause them both. But he would never leave her, not really. He loved her far too much to do that.

“Send someone else to treat with her. Why must it be you?” Her voiced cracked at the last word and broke his heart.

“Sansa,” he said moving closer. His hand cupped the back of her head. He leaned in to kiss her though he knew that he should not.

“Is that all, Your Grace?” she asked coldly with a hand on his chest to stop him from reaching her lips, freezing him with her words as surely as the winter winds were freezing his balls.

“Sansa…do not call me…” he warned.

“I am only being a dutiful subject, my king,” she sneered while bowing her head. “I mistakenly thought you had called me here to discuss this matter as equals but obviously you only wished to issue your commands. I will watch over Winterfell and obey your orders in your absence, Your Grace.”

“Don’t call me that!” he shouted.

He pulled her roughly to him then and kissed her hard on the mouth. For just a moment, just a sweet moment of promise she softened to him.

But then she pulled away and said, “Remember yourself, Jon. There are women in the South that you must go and court, it seems. Go to her then. Perhaps you can make me Lady Lannister again while you’re at it.”

“I would never do that to you! I’m not going to court her either! Sansa…” he said desperately, grasping her by the arm as she tried to walk away.

“You must let me go,” she said stonily.

The double meaning was clear and while his hand released her arm, his mouth spoke for his heart.

“I can’t let you go.”

“If you love me, you have to be willing to let me go,” she said brokenly as she walked away from him and the Heart Tree.

“I can never let you go, Sansa,” he said, trying to get her to stop, to turn around.

But she was already walking away. She did not stop and she did not look back and meet his eye again.

~~~~~~

A vague sense of panic consumed him though he woke with her in his arms. The night had been long and filled with emotion but she had stayed. She had remained with him. She had not left him.

She is here. She is safe. She is mine.

She stirred as he continued to try and define what that fear was. The dream, the memory had touched on something unpleasant from the past, some rift between them.

Sansa rolled to face him and touched his bare shoulder. “Your body is warm,” she said. “Warmer than I can ever recall it being.”

“I fed last night…quite a bit.”

“Hmmm, I like you warm like this…but I don’t want you killing people all the time either.”

Jon smiled grimly as he recalled his less pleasant task from the previous night. He’d driven the first car of the unwelcome guests to a parking lot of a strip mall three miles away. He’d parked the second right next to the first. It was a small strip mall with no noticeable security cameras. Not that it would matter.

He’d run back to his house after to move the second car. He could’ve moved the bodies in the cars but he didn’t want any blood left in the trunks. They would just be two unclaimed cars. No physical evidence to give the Gil Grissoms of Wintertown any clue as to what had happened to the owners.

Then, he had trekked five miles into the forest on foot with each corpse. All three had been left in the woods near a lake. It was easiest to leave them to rot and he hoped the forest creatures would help speed the process for him. And if some hiker stumbled across their bones someday, there would be nothing to tie him to them.

Though he could move very swiftly and did, it still took him nearly an hour and Sansa was sleeping when he joined her in his bed.

He could’ve let her sleep. He didn’t though. She knew what he was now and she had not left him, not made him drive her home. But still he feared that. What if she changed her mind in the morning?

“What did you do with them?” she had murmured sleepily.

“Don’t ask,” he’d said. “You probably wouldn’t like the answer.”

“I like you though.”

She had smelled of wine and had a sweet, sleepy grin on her face. He had wanted her then. He loved her so and he had needed the reassurance that she would not go, that she loved him and wanted him, too. And so when he had slipped his finger inside her and found her wet for him, he had been beside himself with desire. He had come close to losing his control. No…not that. Well, just a little perhaps.

He took her more roughly than he ever had before but she did not complain. He could see the bruises near her wrists where he’d pinned her hands above her head as he had entered her, fucking her deep and slow at first until he could not bear to go slow any longer. His thrusts came quicker and harder all while he still held her by her wrists.  She had cried out his name over and over, nearly sobbing as she reached her climax.

And all the while, Jon had whispered in her ear, “You’re mine…mine, Sansa…always mine.”

If he cared to lift the sheet, he would no doubt see the bruises on her hips. He’d rolled her over after she came and lifted her to all fours before he fucked her from behind. His hands had held her hips far too tightly as he pounded into her cunt like an animal...a wolf perhaps, grunting and whispering filthy things in her ear and telling her how he couldn’t get enough of her and he could never leave her.

She had not minded. She was moaning his name and chasing yet another climax when his shattered over him like a force of nature. He’d felt like a god last night as he’d roared out in release.

And after…after he had wept yet again. He’d held her and begged her to never leave him. Sansa had only whispered that she loved him.

Now in the morning light, he felt shame over how he’d been with her and the self-loathing that was never far away returned.

I will never be clean. I will never be worthy of you.

“Just stop it,” she said then pulling him from his melancholic musings. Her eyes were sharp upon him and he bowed his head.

“I thought I was the one who could read minds,” he said without mirth.

“I don’t need to have that ability to see what you’re thinking now.” She rolled out of bed and winced when she stood, the sound like a stake through his heart. “I’m fine,” she said tersely.

“Sansa, I’m sorry for how I was last night.”

“It’s alright.” She went into the bathroom and came back out minutes later. She sat on the edge of the bed and said, “Jon…if I had told you to stop or that you were hurting me last night, you would’ve, right?”

“Of course, I would.”

"Then stop feeling bad about this. I didn’t tell you to stop. I didn’t want you to stop. I wanted you in all your fierce and possessive fury. It…gods, it does things to me when you’re like that,” she said with a blush. He smiled at that and she continued, “Now, don’t get all cocky. That doesn’t mean you can be a beast every night.”

“Of course not!”

“But…I didn’t mind it. And I don’t mind a bruise or two. So, stop brooding and get out of bed. We’ve got the rest of the weekend together and I’ve still got questions.”

“Yes, my love. Whatever you want,” he said until he heard her thoughts. “No…not that.”

“Why not? I want to meet them. I have questions of my own.”

“Sansa…I don’t want you anywhere near them.”

“You said it was only Myranda I need fear.”

“But…”

“Jon, I want to meet them. I have questions.”

She laid her head in his lap then and looked up at him with those pure blue eyes of hers. She smelled of lavender and lemons and rain and her blue eyes beseeched him not to deny her. He didn’t wish to deny her anything.

“I am far too weak when it comes to your will,” he husked, cupping her face and leaning in for a kiss.

“Nonsense,” she laughed. “I’m sure you could work your spells and get your way with me whenever you please. You’re the one with all the super-human strength and speed and abilities.”

“Even Superman had his kryptonite and you, my lovely Sansa…you are mine.”

“So, I get to meet them?”

“Yes, love…but not now,” he said as he pulled her on top of him. “First, we will do something we both enjoy and then I will take you to Jaqen and the others.”

“Is this like tit for tat?” she laughed.

“Something like that…but only if we’re talking about these tits,” he smirked as he raised his head to capture one of hers in his mouth.

“I think you’re trying to distrac-ohhh! Oh, Jon,” she sighed.

They rode towards Jaqen’s house which had been Jon’s house as well until very recently. It was closer to campus but secluded much like Jon’s place. It was large but had an air of indifference to it as though its inhabitants didn’t particularly care about the state of the shrubbery or whether it needed a coat of paint.

It made Sansa smile to think how nice Jon’s house had looked by contrast. How carefully he had decorated it. She realized he had done that with her in mind…and apparently over the course of a couple weeks.

“I wanted to make it like a home…for you,” he said when she mentioned it.

“Our home?” she asked. She could tell by the way he rubbed at the back of his neck he had intended just that. “So, you planned on wooing me with the house and then springing the vampire thing on me?”

“Well…when you say it like that it just sounds crazy,” he snickered.

“Everything about this is crazy.”

He just laughed and kissed her hand.

He had called Jaqen to tell him he was coming over with her for a visit. He told him of what had happened last night and what Sansa had learned and that she wished to meet them. They had finished breakfast, or at least Sansa had for she was hungry after a long night, and then left.

They climbed the front porch and Sansa looked over her shoulder. Somewhere through the trees was her school Jon had said but it seemed so distant from where she was now.

It was a concerning thought. She was losing herself in Jon, consumed with him. She no longer cared about her classes and barely kept in touch with her friends anymore. After everything last night, she should have wanted nothing more to do with him.

Remember who you are, Sansa Stark.

But here she was standing beside him and asking to meet more vampires, delving deeper into his world. A world that was frightening and dangerous.

Jon sniffed audibly at the air before they entered. He was tense.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Myranda’s scent. It’s faint. I’m just making sure,” he said enigmatically.

Jaqen appeared at the door and he was still dressed in the same strange clothing he had worn the night they’d met. Perhaps people just thought he was eccentric as opposed to a bloodsucker. He laughed at her thought and Sansa remembered what Jon had told her.

“You read minds, too,” she said.

Jon had said Jaqen shared his gift of reading minds. She felt exposed all over again to know another could read her thoughts. It was bad enough with Jon but with Jaqen it was worse.

“I do, lovely girl. Jaehaer-Jon, I am glad to see you.”

“May we come in?” Jon asked.

“May you? Ah! This is no longer your home, is it? Well, then…enter freely of your own will. You are welcome here.”

“And is Myranda still welcome here?” Jon asked.

“No, she is not but we have not seen her lately to tell her so,” Jaqen answered before ushering them into a large sitting room.

A woman stood by the fireplace that was burning merrily. She was dressed all in red and greeted them. Her hair was red but it was not deep auburn like Sansa’s. It was crimson, almost a blood red. She was pale and her red gown brushed the floor but her eyes were the most frightening thing. They were red but Jon had already warned her of that. He had said that they stayed that way, unlike his that might flash red occasionally in his wrath or when he killed.

“Jon, is this…she looks just like her. Is this Sansa?”

“You know that it is,” he replied.

The woman walked towards her. A sense of unease and disquiet came over Sansa at the way the woman looked her up and down. She was beautiful but strange…and there was something chilling in her gaze.

“Sansa Stark,” she said. “I am Melisandre.”

She bowed to Sansa. Am I supposed to curtsy or something? Jon chuckled at her side and took her hand.

“Melisandre is being very formal but you can just shake her hand if you like.”

Sansa extended her hand and the Melisandre grasped it. Her hands were very warm, hot almost, as though she’d been holding them to a fire.

A man entered then. He was no taller than Sansa. Of course, Jon wasn’t really either. His blue eyes met hers with a frank look of interest before darting away. His hair was brown and short and he hadn’t shaved in a few days. He seemed a bit nervous.

“Sansa, this is Theon,” Jon said in a measured tone.

“How do you do?” the man said.

“It’s nice to meet you, Theon,” she said with a smile and extended her hand to him.

And as he took it, an awful jolt shook her and Sansa felt herself falling.

~~~~~~

“Do you know our words, wife?” the man asked. Sansa did not answer but a low whine escaped her lips against her will as he pulled the knife from his belt. “Say it. Say our words, my beautiful wife.”

“Our blades are sharp,” she whispered. I will not cry out, she told herself. She was terrified though and covered with new bruises. And hurting from the other thing he…don’t think about it now.

“Good girl. That’s right. They’re a bit of warning, aren’t they? Much like ‘Winter is coming’, right?”

She nodded and hoped she could survive another night. She hoped that someone would come and help her but her hope was fading. There are no heroes.

The door opened. “Oh, Reek...bring it here. My wife is in need of her supper.” The ragged man shuffled in with a tray and a young woman followed him. “What are you doing here?” he asked her sharply.

“I thought you’d let me watch. You said I could play, too,” the young woman said with a twisted smile.

“You smell like dog, Myranda. You don’t get to play with my pretty wife. Go on.”

The woman was angry but didn’t argue. She left with the ragged man, Reek, and closed the door.

“Where were we, wife? Where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?” the man asked.

The blade came closer and Sansa bit her tongue hoping to muffle the screams and cries that wanted to tear from her throat. She hated giving him that satisfaction.

Though in the end, Ramsey would win. The monsters always did.

~~~~~~

“Theon! You must help me! Please!”

The ragged man shook his head with fear. “Just do what he says or he’ll hurt you.”

She rushed over to him. She grabbed his hands. He had to see that she needed him. She wore only a thin shift and her cell was cold. Her arms were covered in bruises. Why won’t he help? What had happened to the young man her father had raised?

“He already hurts me every night. It can’t get any worse.”

Theon sniffled and said, “It can. You don’t know him.”

“Theon, please.”

“Not Theon! Reek!” he shouted as he scrambled to the door.

~~~~~~

Sansa was on the floor but Jon held her to him. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

“What was it?” he asked.

“I know him,” she said indicating Theon. “I had a memory of him.”

“I told you he was your father’s ward. I had a memory of him, too. We were younger and…”

“What are you talking about, Jon?” Theon asked.

“That’s not how I remember him,” Sansa said looking Jon in the eye.

The memory was still strong upon her and suddenly Jon was boiling with rage. Sansa felt it as well but not the same. She remembered feeling pity for that creature that this man…this vampire had been.

Jon pulled her to her feet and without warning lunged at Theon. But Jaqen moved swiftly and held Jon tightly in his arms.

“No! Not in our house, not in our family.”

“He’s not my family!” Jon spat.

“Yes, he is,” Jaqen said. “And I grow tired of having to fight you, Jon.” He shoved Jon from him and stood in front of Theon.

Jon rounded on Melisandre next and Sansa was confused by the violence in his tone. “I told you to tell me everything!”

Melisandre was as lost as Theon by Jon’s reaction. “I did. I did not know Theon in your other life! I told you all I knew. He was Lord Eddard Stark’s ward and later betrayed Robb Stark. It was you, Jon Snow, that I knew and served. And I knew Sansa Stark briefly. I never met Theon in that life.”

Theon’s eyes were wide with fear and confusion. “Jon…I don’t understand,” he said.

Betrayed Robb Stark. Sansa let the words wash over her but she refused to let them sway her. Sansa walked over to Jon and lay a gentle hand on him. “There’s no reason to do this, Jon. I was angry with him then. And perhaps he did many bad things ages ago. But you have lived with him for how long? Are you ready to fight him, to kill him for things that happened to Sansa Stark a thousand years ago? And just because I was angry in that moment doesn’t mean he never did anything to redeem himself.”

She could tell Jon did not like it but he had spoken true earlier about being weak to her will.

“You are right,” he said at last. “That was…rash of me. I’m sorry, Theon. There are many things from my past I do not know and you have no memory of that man you were before. I’ll try and explain this better later.”

Theon nodded but Sansa was busy remembering the other people in the vision. “There was a woman named Myranda there, too. Could she be the same Myranda? But how could that be? You said she’d been changed around 400 years ago. How could she have been there in my former life, so much longer ago?”

“I don’t know,” Jon answered.

“If you returned in another life, she could’ve as well,” Jaqen said. “Perhaps the many-faced god does return mortals again and again to live new lives and make different mistakes…or the same ones.”

Sansa’s head was still spinning from the memory. “If Myranda was there...she was with that man. He called me wife.”

“Sansa Stark was married to Ramsey Bolton before she fled to her half-brother Jon Snow for help,” Melisandre said.

“You failed to mention that when you said Sansa and I were parted when we were younger and later reunited,” Jon growled.

“You didn’t ask about her past marriages,” she replied curtly.  "Perhaps I was distracted by the hand at my throat though," she finished and stepped closer to Jaqen.

“I think…I believe she was his lover,” Sansa said, returning the conversation to what interested her most at the moment. “She hated me.”

“Perhaps Myranda is upset about more than me choosing you and not her. Perhaps she remembers things as well. Maybe she’s hated you for centuries now and is just now realizing it again.”

“That is hard to know, Jon,” Jaqen said. “Come, lovely girl. There is much we should discuss.”

Jon had sat with her while she asked her questions of Melisandre and Jaqen. And while she had been given answers about vampires and different things to do with their ways, she had as many questions now as before…more perhaps.

There were no more answers regarding their child or her family beyond the things that Jon had told her. Her best hope was for memories to come to her but she had not control over when such things occurred.

Jon went to speak with Theon and that was when she took her opportunity to ask other questions that she didn’t want Jon to hear.

“Would it hurt?” she asked.

“Yes, child,” Jaqen had answered. “It hurts…and Jon would never want that for you.”

“No…I suppose he wouldn’t. He hates what he is.”

“He does and I am sorry for it. But, Sansa…he will do anything to protect you even if it means his end.”

“I wish I could go back and change things for him…for us.”

“Yes…well, that is one thing that I do not have the power to do for you,” Jaqen said. “I cannot alter the past or take you back in time or…” He looked to Melisandre.

“But what if there were a way?” Sansa asked as a queer look passed between them.

“Sansa…” Melisandre began.

Whatever she was going to say, Jaqen silenced her with a look. “What’s your favorite food, Sansa?” he asked unexpectedly. Jon reentered the room a moment later. He looked between them and Sansa could almost hear Jaqen urging her to think on his question.

Lemon cake. Lemon cake. Lemon cake.

“Jaqen, Melisandre,” Jon said with a sweet and trusting smile, “I believe we will go. Thank you for answering Sansa’s questions but I believe that she may be hungry now.”

A week later, Sansa felt like a phony and a fraud standing her next to Asha and Margaery tonight. The Light of the Seven Student Committee had organized this prayer vigil for the missing students and to honor Trystane Martell.

Everyone stood around with their candles lit, singing songs of the Faith and offering prayers for the safe return of Walda, Waymar and Joffrey.

Everyone shared their memories of the bright and friendly young Dornishman and comforted each other in their grief.

Margaery cried and Asha sniffled a time or two. But Sansa wept the hardest…for she knew that none of them would ever return and blamed herself.

Jon stayed nearby but he did not join their group. He was on the watch. He suspected that Myranda might stop by the campus tonight.

“So many students out after dark…easy pickings,” he had said making Sansa shiver at his callous tone. “I’m sorry, my love,” he said when he realized how it had sounded.

“You are what you are,” she’d said simply. “I love you anyway.”

Her name day was approaching and Sansa’s mother wanted to throw her daughter a party to celebrate her 20th Name Day. She had invited Jon to join the family as well. He had agreed at once.

“I should like to see them all together. I hate that I cannot watch over them as often as I wish.”

“You are wearing yourself out. You said yourself that even you must sleep sometimes. You’ve spent every night either watching my dorm room or keeping me at your place and sitting up at night. Plus, you keep checking on Robb. And, you spent the previous day searching for signs of her near my parents’ home.”

“It’s not enough, Sansa. You are my priority but I want to keep them all safe for you.”

“There’s been no sign of her for days and days and no one else has went missing.”

“I know. But you don’t know her like I do. She doesn’t just let things go.”

After the vigil, Jon walked the three of them back to their dorm.

“You coming up, Curls?” Asha asked. She had nicknamed him that and while Sansa rolled her eyes every time she said it, Jon did not seem to mind.

“Just for a minute,” he answered. Sansa had already told him she had an exam in the morning. The semester would be ending soon and she’d been cramming all week despite her other worries.

But as they reached the entry door, Jon froze and looked left and right.

“Something the matter?” Margaery asked.

“Go upstairs,” he said to the three of them. His voice was deep and harsh. Sansa’s spine began to tingle. Margaery had flinched and Asha looked pissed but when he roared, “Get inside…now!” no one argued and no one disobeyed him.

“What in Seven Hells was that about?” Asha asked as they reached their room after Jon had fled from the building's front doors.

“I’ll find out later,” Sansa said as she tried to ignore the hammering of her heart and her fear for her beloved.

Chapter Text

The Three-Eyed Raven

‘The board is set. The pieces are moving.’

-Gandalf, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King

Streetlamps and head lights flickered by like strobe lights as he ran. White hot rage was coursing through him as he pursued her. She had been near and Jon knew she had been stalking Sansa…or her roommates. Perhaps she planned to kill one of them to frighten Sansa…to hurt Sansa.

I’m a fool to think I can protect everyone she loves from this.

If she were within his grasp at this moment he would tear her into a hundred pieces. But she wasn’t. He could smell her, the coppery tang of blood where she’d been feeding. But more than that he knew her distinct smell. Every vampire knew their kind from mortals by scent alone and every vampire smelled different to other vampires.

Myranda smelled of rotted meat and honeysuckles; a putrid, sickly sweetness that clung to her and turned Jon’s stomach like her nasty smiles.

He ran with unnatural speed but Myranda did as well…and, unlike Jon, she would never hesitate to kill or put others in harm’s way to escape.

“You coming to get me, Jon Snow?” she had taunted once when he drew nearer…right before she tore through a crowd of people on a street corner, leaving injured and confused bystanders in his way.

She ducked and dodged and backtracked but still he pursued. South and south again the chase continued. He kept running, his hate kept him going though he was tired from so many nights of watching and waiting.

After nearly an hour with no sign of her though, he lost her scent. Fear gripped him then.

What if she’s returned to them while I’m out here looking?

He ran back to the dormitory and to his relief found all three girls in their room.

“Jon!” Sansa exclaimed, rushing to his arms.

“What was all that about, Curls?” Asha asked from where she had already settled in her bed.

Margaery was still sitting in the floor from where she and Sansa had apparently been playing cards instead of studying. He read their thoughts. They were anxious. Sansa knew what the danger was but the other two felt it. They knew something wasn’t right.

“Nothing,” he muttered. He could not raise his eyes to Sansa’s spirited friend. If it comes down to your safety or hers, there is no choice for me, he thought sadly. “Sansa, I need to speak with you alone.”

“I’m not getting out of this bed. If you two are going to fuck, I’m getting a free show,” Asha said.

Normally, he would have laughed but now he could not. “We’ll talk in the hall,” he said before tugging at Sansa’s hand.

Once they were relatively alone, he embraced her tightly as though he could never let her go. He breathed in her scent, that maddening fragrance that was Sansa. He could not live without her again. I won’t live without you again. Well, I’m not exactly living now.

“Jon?” she squeaked. He’d been gripping her too tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he grimaced.

“What happened?”

“She got away. I’m sorry. I failed…”

“Jon. Just stop. You tried. You might have frightened her off.”

He didn’t express his doubts about that but merely said, “Pack a bag and come home with me.”

“I have an exam at 8 tomorrow morning. My last one, thank the gods.”

“I didn’t ask you to pack a bag. And I’ll get you back to school in time for your test.”

“Aren’t we bossy? If I go to your place, you’ll keep me up all night,” she smirked.

“I won’t. I promise I’ll let you sleep.”

“What if I keep you up all night?” she asked with a devilish little grin then.

He kissed her softly and caressed her cheek. He looked deep into those blue eyes that owned his soul. “Sleep, my lovely. That is all we’ll do tonight. Please, come home with me. I need to rest and I need you near to do so.”

She frowned and asked, “What about Marg and Asha?”

“They’re here in the dorm. I told you. Myranda can’t enter their room uninvited.”

“Then, why can’t you rest if I’m here? It just seems too simple. You’re safe from the mega-strong vampires so long as you don’t invite them in. They’re powerless against a door that they’ve not been invited through.”

It’s not that simple and they are still in danger. “She’s not powerless. Even uninvited there are ways she could coerce them to come out, games she could play to make it easier. Sansa, if she wants to kill someone you care about…there are no guarantees that I can do anything to stop her.” Her face twisted with pain at those words. She was going to cry and right now he just wanted to get her home, in his bed and in his arms. “Pack a bag, love. Tell your friends to stay in for the night.  Tell them I'm worried about the missing students.  Tell them goodnight. She won’t come back tonight. I chased her twenty miles away.” Gods, let it be far enough for now.

“Twenty miles?” she said incredulously.

“I move fast…so does she.” I just hope she won’t come back here…or go elsewhere tonight.

Later that night, he crawled into bed next to her after a final lap around the house. No trace of Myranda here at least. She grumbled sleepily at him but when he settled she rolled over towards him wanting to be held.

“I love you,” he murmured in her ear. She smiled and sighed. “What do you want for your name day, my love?”

“New shoes,” she said with a grin. “Expensive ones.” He chuckled at that but then she said, “I want everyone safe.”

“Me, too.” He stroked her hair and said, “I’ve not been to any sort of name day celebration…in centuries anyway. Will your mother bake you a cake?”

“She always does,” Sansa said with a little girl's smile.

“What kind?”

“Lemon. It’s always been my favorite.”

“And will there be candles and singing like at your father’s name day?” he asked as he continued to idly run his hand up and down her soothe skin, feeling his eyelids growing heavy.

“Yes.”

“Will you make a wish? I’ve heard that’s lucky.”

“Supposedly and yes, I will.”

“What will you wish for, my dearest one?”

‘Something that won’t come true,’ she thought.

“What’s that, love?”

She didn’t speak but he heard it all the same. His heart felt as though it had swelled to life once more but it was too much. It was agonizing. It was filling his chest and crushing him with immense and delicious pain.

“I would…I would wish for that, too,” he said with bitter sorrow. “But it can never…”

“It doesn’t matter. I love you all the same, Jon.” She looked up at him from where her head was pillowed on his chest. “I will love you my whole life…for however long that is,” she said before she laid her head down and tried to fall back asleep.

He kept stroking her soft skin and inhaling her fragrance. He let the tears run down his face unchecked and watched her sleep. He wanted to tell her not to waste her precious wishes on him.

The following Saturday was Sansa’s name day and Jon found himself surrounded by Starks once more. The memories started again as soon as he entered their home but today it was more like covering fire rather than a full-fledged assault.

He found a place for himself out of the way as Sansa was greeted by her parents after he’d said hello to them both.

Robb had brought his girlfriend…or one of his girlfriends according to Sansa…and introduced her before stealing off outside with her. To look at my car, Jon thought amusedly. You could’ve asked for the keys, brother. I would’ve let you take it for a spin.  He shook his head and wondered when he'd started thinking of Robb Stark as his brother.

Rickon had bounded over with Lady and Shaggy to say hello and then bounded off to steal some of the icing off Sansa’s cake.

Arya came over to talk and brought Ghost with her. He found that she was easy to talk to and she had taken to him for some reason. They were in the midst of a passionate discussion about the Avengers when Arya started scolding Ghost for chewing on Jon’s shoes.

“It’s alright. He’s a good dog,” Jon said lightly as he pulled the little pup into his arms. He had grown over the past few weeks but he was still a little thing, likely the runt of his litter. He licked Jon’s face and Jon felt that strange longing again. He wondered if it was the puppy in his arms he wanted to keep or his direwolf. He looked up to see Arya smirking at him and knew he must’ve been wearing a besotted expression as he played with Ghost in his lap. “He wouldn’t be the first member of the family to ruin a pair of my shoes.”

“Sansa?” Arya asked, clearly interested.

“Yeah. The first time we…” when she caught me stalking her and we kissed. “Well, the first sort-of-a-date we had, she got sick and threw up on my shoes.”

“No! Not Sansa!” He nodded and Arya threw back her head and laughed. It was a loud, braying sort of laugh that made him feel like laughing, too. “Was she drunk?” she whispered next. Jon smiled to realize she wouldn’t betray that her sister was drunk to their parents.

“Possibly,” he said with a wink.

“Are you over here telling stories about me, Jon Snow?” Sansa asked as she returned to him at last.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

“Hmmm…I don’t know if I like you two over here talking about me. Hey, Arya…Mom says Bran hiked to the Weirwood this morning and should’ve been back by now. Want to go fetch him?”

“Uh…no.”

“Oh, come on. Mom says he’s hanging out at the Weirwood a lot lately and apparently he left his phone here.” Arya put her fingers together and drew them up to her lips, pretending to smoke a joint. “Arya!” Sansa hissed.

“Him and Jojen have been hanging out there a lot and getting stoned. They are going to get busted before long.”

“Oh, gods. My little brother…” Sansa wailed. “So, will you go?”

“Why don’t we go, Sansa?” Jon asked. “We can let Arya hang out here.” I’d like a chance to be alone with you today for a forty-minute hike anyway. “Can Ghost come too?” he asked Arya.

They walked together hand in hand as the pup followed eagerly along pissing on this tree or that rock as they went. Their progress was slow.

Deeper and deeper into the woods they walked, letting the old forest swallow them. Jon was on the alert for any signs of Myranda but she wasn’t here. He felt the same sense of foreboding in the deep, dark woods as he had on Weirwood Day and wondered if the others would feel it, too.

Our kind is not welcome here. Myranda will not come here, I think.

Despite the dark undercurrent of his thoughts, he kept things easy, not wishing to worry Sansa. They talked of her exams, her upcoming semester break and other things that were pleasant.

“How does it feel to be twenty?” he asked as they came closer to their destination.

“No different than nineteen so far,” she laughed. “How does it feel to be a thousand?”

“No different than nine hundred and ninety-nine, smart ass.”

“You like my ass.”

“Gods…that I do,” he concurred.

They approached the great Weirwood and Jon was curious to know Sansa’s feeling about it. She had not gone with the Stark men on their hike that day when Jon had joined them. She followed the Seven like her mother.

She walked over and touched the tree and traced the carved face with a finger.

“My mother has never cared for this tree but I liked it well enough.  It's a piece of home.  I used to come here when I was little with my father and listen to him speak about the old gods. We all did. As I got older though, I started to think it was boring. I said so to my dad once,” she said with regret. “I wanted to take it back as soon as I said it. He wasn’t mad but I could tell it hurt him. From then on, the others still went with him but I stayed with Mom.” I felt like I didn’t belong with them anymore.

“You belong,” he whispered.

He leaned in for a kiss, just a soft, sweet kiss but a memory took over instead.

~~~~~~~

“I told you I’d be back,” he murmured into her hair.

“You did,” she cried, holding him as close as she could. Afraid if she let go, he’d disappear again. “I was afraid to believe it…afraid I’d never see you again. You were gone so many moons. Baelish tried to tell me you would stay with her. That you wouldn’t come back and that you...”

“As long as I draw breath, I’ll always return to you,” he said before his lips captured hers in a desperate kiss.

He walked her backwards towards the Heart Tree. He pushed her up against its trunk. Her eyes were liquid with tears and darkened by desire.

She had missed him so. She held his face with her gloved hand, trying to memorize every detail once again.

He did not allow her to stare too long. His mouth was on her throat, trailing hot kisses up to her ear. He ached with need. He longed to fill her and he couldn’t wait for some stolen moment tonight in the castle. He needed her now.

“Sansa…” he husked in her ear. “Please, my love,” he begged.

She flushed a lovely pink and nodded. A flurry of movement brought her dress up to her hips. She felt Jon’s fingers fumbling at her small clothes and heard the rip. The winter wind was sharp and biting on her exposed and tender flesh. She did not care though. He was home…for now at least and she would give him the welcome he wanted for she wanted it as well.

Jon unfastened his breeches and small clothes, just enough to free his cock. He pulled her leg around his hip and groaned as he slid inside of her. She gasped and he nipped at her earlobe as her hands worked their way under his cloak, trying to hold him to her always.

At such a furious pace, he could not possibly expect to last long after so much time apart. She was so wet that the sounds of him thrusting into his half-sister in the godswood filled the silent snowy grounds around them. He felt like an animal…but he did not care. He grunted as he spilled soon after and felt her wet tears brush his cheek.

“Did I hurt you, sweet girl?” he asked tenderly as her leg slid down to the ground and her dress fell back to sweep the snow at their feet.

“No…I’m just happy you’re home,” she replied as she leaned against him, relishing his strength as he held her to him and kissed her forehead.

~~~~~~~

They stood perfectly still staring at one another beneath the blood red leaves. In the very spot we made love a thousand years ago.

The memory of their frenzied coupling from the past had left Sansa panting. Jon would’ve been panting as well if he were still just a man.

Ghost sat at their feet between them. His little ears perked in intelligent interest as though he wished to know what they were thinking.

“Well, well…there’s the Name Day Girl,” a voice called from high above them.

Sansa gasped and looked up. “Brandon Stark! Get down from there,” she shouted when she spotted her brother. “Mom would shit a brick if she saw you that high up and you were supposed to be back at the house an hour ago.”

Once more Jon was amazed that the boy could be perched up in the tree above and him not even be aware of his presence. It’s not as though that many mortals sneak up on me…ever.

“Hello, Bran,” Jon said.

“Hey, Jon,” Bran said as he snickered to himself.

He held a pocket knife and a small branch. He was marking it with the knife, hacking at the piece of white wood.

Jon could smell the weed from the ground though Sansa likely would not. “It’s not safe to be up there when you’re high, you know?”

“I’m high and I’m high. High in the tree and high…I like it,” he snorted.

“Bran,” Sansa whined. “You’re going to be grounded…again.”

“Grounded? Not when I can fly,” he laughed. He saw Sansa’s disappointed face and said, “Don’t worry, Sans. I’m alright. I’ve had the weirdest dreams the past several nights but I’m not crazy.”

Jon noticed the rustling in the tree above where the boy sat. Crows…and ravens. There are dozens of them. Jon didn’t like their beady eyes, the way they stared. He loathed their smell; rot and corruption. It clung to him too but he hated the smell all the same. And, he hated their raucous calls but they were gratefully quiet for now.

“Don’t you like my friends, Jon Snow?” Bran asked curiously. “They like you…or they once did.”

There was a sardonic twist to his lips and Jon felt exposed before this boy who couldn’t be more than sixteen. Bran’s thoughts were hard to read and Jon didn’t know why. Maybe the pot.

“Hey, Jon…do you know what this is from? ‘The crow is his link between the land of the living and the realm of the dead.’”

The land of the living and the realm of the dead? Is he…can he see what I am?

Jon pushed aside the panic, scratched his beard and feigned nonchalance. “Is that Jim Morrison?” he asked with a shrug. 

“No,” Bran said. “It’s from ‘The Crow.’ Cool movie. No, I think the quote your thinking of is ‘Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as raven’s claws.’ That’s Jim Morrison, dude.”

“Bran,” Sansa said. “Come down, please.”

“Alrighty,” he said as he leapt from limb to limb with that same grace Jon had witnessed last time. It reminded Jon of other beings he had heard of long ago. What were those?

But when he jumped to the ground, he missed his footing as easily as any mortal could and landed flat on his ass.

“Ow!”

Ghost yelped and whined.

“Are you okay, baby?” Sansa asked with all the devoted concern of any big sister.

“I’ll live. Fucking root in my ass hurts though,” Bran said.

Jon stuck out his hand, meaning to give him a hand up, and felt an unexpected jolt when Bran grasped it.

~~~~~~~

“Sansa told you what I saw?” Bran asked serenely from his chair.

“She did,” Jon said with his head bowed.

“You’re still my brother, Jon.” He wasn’t though. He never had been. “You are, Jon. In my heart, you’ll always be my brother…and Arya’s.”

Jon put his hands over his eyes to hide his tears from his little brother. My cousin. All his life he’d been the Bastard of Winterfell and now he wasn’t. He wasn’t the son of Eddard Stark. He was the son of a man reviled by the North…a man he would never meet.

Everything about me is a lie.

“No, it isn’t,” Bran said. Jon’s head snapped up and wondered how Bran could know his thoughts. “He was your father same as he was mine. No matter whose seed you came from, Ned Stark was your father.”

After a few moments to compose himself, Jon noticed Bran’s omission from his earlier declaration.

“You said I’d always be your brother and Arya’s but you didn’t say Sansa. Won’t I always be Sansa’s brother?”

“No, a different path lies ahead for you and Sansa. You know this.”

“Since when do you speak in riddles?” Jon asked, only mildly annoyed.

“Since the three-eyed raven taught me,” the younger man responded impishly. “And I know you have already acted on your feelings for my sister. It’s a good thing I’m no swordsman or I should have to challenge you for dishonoring her,” Bran said with a teasing grin. “At least now you need not feel guilty over it. At least now you can…”

“I can marry her…if she’ll still have me.”

“She will, Jon. I’ve seen it.”

~~~~~~~~

The fires were burning in their sconces of her pavilion. She always had several lit as though she would never be warm enough here near where the Wall had stood for thousands of years until recently.

She sat stiffly in her chair. Her eyes shone with anger. Clearly, she was displeased…but Jon no longer cared about pleasing his aunt.

She had not invited him to sit. Perhaps she thought he would feel wounded and properly chastised for it. She was mistaken but he would not tell her as much.

“So, you’ve returned?” she asked wearing the haughty expression that Jon had become accustomed to seeing on her face more and more of late.

Tyrion and Varys were not present. He might’ve liked for Tyrion to be here…but Varys’s absence was just as well.

“Of course I did. We’ve a war to fight.”

“Two nights you’ve been gone without asking my leave.”

I don’t require your leave…but I did require a dragon. He did not say it though. Quarreling with her was useless, especially now.

“My wife is with child, Your Grace. I only wanted to see her before…before the end.” I only wanted to hold her and make love to her once more in case I do not survive. I only wanted to tell her how much I loved her again and whisper those words to the child she carries in her womb.

“You stole one of my dragons to do so, King Jon.”

“Aye…but it’s not exactly stealing if I brought it back, is it?” Daenerys laughed at his response. Her fury bled away and she gave him one of her sweeter smiles. “I do beg your pardon for leaving as I did and taking Rhaegal without asking.”

The apology pleased her as he knew it would. Sansa had been right. She was easier to deal with when she thought she was getting her way. But you won’t get your way in everything.

“Come and sup with me, Jon,” she said as she rose from her seat and paced towards him. “We can share some wine and chase away the cold together.” Her hand brushed his arm and moved slowly up to his shoulder.

The invitation was still open it seemed. It did not matter to her that he was married now. It did not matter that they both knew he was her nephew now. I did not stay with you then. I will certainly not lie with you now.

“Thank you for your…kind invitation but I fear I have plans to make and men to speak with, Your Grace. Forgive me,” he said as he turned to go.

“Jon,” she said, recalling him. Her tone was laced with anxiety and latent hostility. “I will name your child by Lady Sansa my heir.”

He stifled a groan of annoyance and clenched his fist around the pommel of Longclaw but spoke courteously all the same.

“That isn’t something we wish for, Your Grace. Again, I apologize but we’ve been over this. Sansa and I will not be continuing House Targaryen for you.”

“You and your wife…you would refuse such an honor?”

“Our child will be a Stark,” he said and left without waiting for her wrath to resurface. He had already seen enough of that.

~~~~~~~

“I’m sorry, Bran,” Sam cried.

The big man had been sobbing for hours. His wife Gilly had finally taken the babe away to nurse as their daughter was only a moon or so older and she had plenty of milk to give suck to the newborn.

Maesters were not supposed to marry but what did it matter when the world was on the brink of annihilation? And there was little Jon wouldn’t overlook or do for Sam’s sake.

“You did all you could, Sam,” Bran said as the tears spilled down his cheeks, wishing that his sister could be the one nursing her child instead of Sam’s wife. “This wasn’t your fault.”

Bran touched her hand that had grown cold. No more pain for you, sweet sister.

She had been so beautiful. She had the look of their mother, the same as all his siblings save Arya, but Sansa had been a greater beauty than Catelyn Tully ever had been.

Bran had looked down upon his newborn nephew sleeping in his arms before Gilly had taken him away. He had the Stark look, like Jon and Arya.

Bran had foreseen this but he hadn’t wanted to believe. I couldn’t have saved her but why must the gods be so cruel? he wondered.

“I’ll never be able to look Jon in the eye again,” Sam said miserably.

Bran would’ve liked to offer the poor maester some comfort but he had other concerns at the moment…and he already knew Sam needn’t worry about ever looking Jon in the eye again.

Time to stop denying it. My nephew will never know his parents. But we will keep him safe.

“Arya will arrive tonight,” Bran said.

“How do you know?” Sam asked in wonder.

Bran looked at him bemusedly but only said, “I must see Arya as soon as she arrives, Sam. Will you please see to it?”

“Of course.”

The maester headed to the door but before he could leave, Bran spoke once more.

“And remember, Maester Tarly...we speak to no one of Sansa’s fate just yet. These sad tidings are not to be shared at this crucial time. For now, let the rest of the world believe that my sister is confined to her chambers and awaiting the birth of the king’s child.”

“Yes, my lord.”

~~~~~~~

“I can’t, Bran! I can’t do this!” Arya argued.

Her eyes were full of angry tears. He did not blame her. He had been forced to share so much sorrow and then ask her to do something very difficult. But she would do it, he knew. She must.

“You must. I cannot. He must be kept safe. It will be best if they believe him dead as well. When the queen is dead, you can bring him back here”

“And when will that bitch be dead?!”

“In time, sister. She will never sit upon the throne she covets. I have seen it.”

“Jon…” she sobbed. She had wept for Sansa already. He had waited to tell her of Jon though. “Why him, too? Why did we have to lose them both, Bran? It isn’t fair. Haven’t we lost enough?!”

“Arya,” Bran said to his older sister, the only sibling left to him now. “They must believe the babe is yours. And you will name him a Stark. Otherwise, our house will die out. I cannot have children, Arya. Everyone already knows that or Meera and I would claim him as ours. I will rule the North but I cannot sire a child.  He will be my heir.  Please, sister…promise me. Keep him safe for Sansa and for Jon.”

Arya wiped her face, the angry, determined look came into her eyes that he knew so well. She nodded her assent.

“How did Jon find out she’d died? And who told him the babe was dead? Eddard is healthy and perfect.”

“We hid it as long as we could but the little birds flew and someone whispered one truth and one lie. Jon lost his will to go on.”

“Bran,” she said miserably, “this is so hard. Am I strong enough…”

“You are. You’re stronger than me…and the Starks will endure.”

Bran was laying on the ground and Jon was holding his head. Sansa didn’t know what to think. They’d stood frozen in the act of Jon reaching to pull Bran to his feet for several seconds and then Bran had collapsed and Jon had pulled back looking as though he’d been bit by a snake.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Well…that was fucking trippy,” Bran said as he helped himself up off the forest floor. “I’m going to tell Jojen to check the shit before he buys from that Leaf chick again.”

“Jon?” Sansa asked again. “Did you see more?” she asked, no longer worrying if Bran heard them talk.

“I did,” he said, pulling her close. “I think I know what happened to our baby. At least I know he lived and I know what…Sansa, I’ll tell you all of it later when we’re home. Bran saw it, too. And I saw things from Bran’s past.”

“Bran’s past?” she said looking over at her younger brother scooping his knife and stick off the ground. Stake…it’s a stake. A Weirwood stake. “Bran…what are you doing with that?”

“Just getting ready, sweet sister.” Bran turned and looked at them both. The hazy, bloodshot eyes looked clear and focused suddenly. “Come on, Bloodsucker. We need to get her home. Our pack’s stronger when we’re together.”

Sansa’s jaw fell open and Jon’s did as well.

“Bran?”

“Honestly, Sansa…I always pegged Arya to be the one to bring home some weirdo or convicted felon but Gendry’s so normal and…well, you definitely surprised me with this one.” He turned to head back down the trail through the woods with Ghost at his heels but then looked over his shoulder at them, “It’s okay. He’s a lot more interesting than that douche you dated in high school.” He rubbed his hands together and gave her a roguish grin, “Almost time for cake!”

Chapter Text

‘Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

Old Time is still a-flying;

And this same flower that smiles today

Tomorrow will be dying.’

-‘To the Virgins to Make Much of Time’ by Robert Herrick

“I taste like sunshine and flowers and I’m right fucking here!” Sookie Stackhouse, True Blood

Making Wishes

Catelyn Stark carefully carried the lemon cake with twenty lit candles to the table and sat it down in front of her daughter.

“Make a wish,” she said once everyone finished singing.

Sansa drew a deep breath and sought Jon’s face towards the end of the table. He had migrated down there, allowing Rickon and her father to flank her. Sansa could smell the lemony frosting of the cake…and on Rickon’s breath.

Little shit, she thought with a smile.

She found his dark eyes upon her and shivered though the house was warm. She closed her eyes and made her wish.

I wish he’d never been changed. Please, let us be together always.

When she opened her eyes again, he had fled from the room. It did not surprise her considering his reaction the other night when she’d first formed the nascent wish in her mind.

The family did not notice his absence as she blew out the candles. They shouted and clapped and by the time her mother and father had started passing out pieces of cake, he had returned. His eyes were too bright but he wore a smile on his face at least.

The rest of her nameday passed happily. The only major drama of the day was when Rickon pulled out the Stark’s old sword in an attempt to impress Robb’s girlfriend and Jon. Once her dad thoroughly admonished his youngest for handling the family heirloom without permission though everyone’s good spirits returned.

Her mother was excited about the fancy new place her father was taking her for brunch the next morning and Sansa listened to her happy chatter while they cleaned up the kitchen. Then, she asked Sansa about her plans for the semester break. She often came home during the break but when she told her mother she was planning to stay with Jon, she was surprised that she didn’t get an argument. Maybe she’s bidding her time though.

Once the kitchen was clean, they rejoined the rest of the family. Jon seemed at ease in his corner, playing with Ghost and finding contentment in listening to them all as the Starks laughed and teased one another and told stories. He was stroking the pup’s soft, white fur as though he were a child that had never held a puppy before rather than a thousand-year-old vampire.

She looked over to Bran, snoring on the couch, sleeping off his large meal, his cake and his high. She wondered what visions Bran and Jon had shared but figured she’d learn soon enough.

Her sister and Gendry were snuggling on the loveseat, arguing with Rickon about what match to watch. Robb and Jeyne were discussing Jeyne’s upcoming trip to Braavos with her father as he sat in his favorite chair by the fire.

As the afternoon faded into evening, Sansa longed to leave with Jon in a way…to go back to his house and spend the night making loving with him. But they’d have all of Sunday…several days actually since school was finished until January. And somewhere a small voice inside whispered to relish this time with her family.

“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may…”

She felt a chill of apprehension as the words crept into her mind. She looked around the room filled with people she loved.

Just a poem…a bid morbid but relevant enough on one’s nameday.

Sansa glanced at Jon, certain he might have felt her sudden fear and heard her thoughts. But, he played with Ghost still.

Instead, it was her father’s smoky gray eyes she found on her. He smiled at his beloved daughter, a soft and loving smile. He looked so calm and at ease in his chair by the fire. Her knight, her first hero…she remembered when she was little and believed that nothing truly bad could ever happen so long as he was there watching over them all. A small part of Sansa still believed it and the dread receded.

Robb’s girlfriend came over to speak with her and Sansa was distracted until it was time to leave.

Jon had grabbed her coat as she hugged her way around the room. He put it over her shoulders and they head to his car.

He sniffed the air once they were outside.

“Anything?” she asked as her stomach knotted with anxiety.

“No, my lovely. No hint of her."

"There's been nothing since Waymar's disappearance nearly a moon ago.  Maybe you frightened her off for good at the vigil."

Jon's lips twisted into a sardonic smile.  "We have all eternity to walk this earth, Sansa.  We don't tend to let things go."

"Fucking bitch," Sansa hissed.  "Why can't she just come after me?  Leave my friends alone...and my family.  I wish..."

"I know.  She's not around now, alright?  I'm keeping watch."

"You're always keeping watch now," she sighed.  "I hate it.  I hate you're having to worry over me and my family and my friends this way.  I hate being useless and not able to help you."

"You're far from useless.  And you help me every day, my love."

"How?"

He touched her shoulder and turned her towards him.  "Sansa, you give my life meaning.  It's not had that in a long time.  I hate what I am but for once...I'm happy.  Being with you, makes me so very happy.  Now, let’s go home,” he said as he weaved his fingers through her own and pulled her by the hand.

 ~~~~~~~~

Sansa sat at the large wooden desk looking over scrolls and accounts with the new maester. Jon’s friend, Samwell Tarly, seemed quite competent and was very kind from all that Sansa had seen thus far. The fire popped and crackled and the pair worked in near silence figuring up how much grain was left and keeping count of how many now sheltered in Wintertown from the War to the North.

Ghost lifted his huge head and growled as a guard entered unexpectedly.

“My lady…the king has returned.” Sansa jumped to her feet. “His Grace has been injured.”

“Take me to him,” she commanded. She winced at how her voice shook but knew these loyal men would not think less of their queen for worrying over her husband.

“Aye, my lady.”

Sansa skirted around the desk and hurried after the guard. Jon had been gone for nearly three moons beyond the Wall. She had not seen him since he’d crept from her bed early one morning with no more than a brief kiss as a goodbye. He was being helped to his chamber by two men as she met them in the corridor. She swiftly took one of the men’s places beside him, looping his arm over her shoulder. They were close in height and Jon could lean on her as well as anyone.

“What happened?” she asked.

“A pike thrust…a wight,” he grimaced. “Under my arm.”

Sansa looked down at where he indicated and saw the dark crimson patch staining his boiled leather...his blood. The maester was there, urging the guards out of the room as Jon sat down heavily on the bed.

“I need to fetch some things, Jon,” Maester Tarly said before he left them alone.

Sansa scurried to remove his boots and cloak. She cupped his face with her hand and stared into his eyes that were bright with pain. His eyes searched hers in return. He kissed her palm and started to speak…but she beat him to it.

“Jon,” she said plaintively. “I told you this was too dangerous and a foolhardy idea.”

He gave a short bark of laughter; half amused, half irritated. “Bloody buggering hells, Sansa. Can’t you save your ‘I told you so’ for another time?”

“No. I like telling you ‘I told you so,’” she smirked. He grinned at her and tugged at her hand, trying to pull her closer. He put his hands on her waist and pulled her into his lap but then grimaced again. “Behave, my king. You’re injured.”

Sam Tarly returned just then and clucked his tongue at Jon. Sansa rose to her feet at once and went to help the maester. Together they treated his wound, sewed it shut and wrapped it in clean linen. Jon sat in just his breeches silently watching them work.

“How long should he remain here, Maester Tarly?” Sansa asked. 

“A fortnight at least to heal, Your Grace.”

Jon grumbled that he would be well enough to fight again in a day or so but neither of them were listening.

Once they were done, Sansa dismissed Samwell saying she would stay with her husband. She returned to his side and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Shall I have some food brought to you?” she asked with a tender smile.

“No, I'm not hungry…not for food,” he said as his eyes held hers.

“I…Jon, you’re hurt. The maester said…”

“Sam is in no position to tell me I’m too injured, Sansa. You'll just have to trust me on that. And, I’ve suffered worse injuries,” he continued while pulling at the laces of her gown with sudden urgency.

“Well, yes...that’s quite true for a man that’s been stabbed to death,” she said archly. He gave her a dour smile in return. “I’m…Jon, I’m bleeding right now. You wouldn’t want me while I’m…”

He growled and pulled her on top of him. “Do I look like I give a…like I care about that? Three moons, Sansa. Three moons I’ve dreamed of nothing but lying in your arms.”

“But…my moonblood. It’ll be messy,” she said crinkling her nose at him.

Jon laughed, “I’ve been covered in mud and blood and shit for days at a time since I left home. I’ll take your moonblood, wife. I’ll gladly bloody a different sort of sword tonight. Lift your skirts, Sansa,” he said huskily. "I need this.  I need you," he said as his knuckles brushed her cheek and he pushed a loose strand of her hair back.

Sansa lifted her skirts and straddled his waist uncertainly.  Jon had freed his cock from his breeches.  He rubbed it against her slick folds and then took her by the waist to guide her down his shaft.  She took him in easily and he groaned contentedly. Sansa sighed and ran her hands through his curly hair.

“I dreamed of you,” he grunted as he began thrusting. “I dreamed of you nursing our babe. Let me give you one while I’m home. Sam says I’m to stay a fortnight. I’ll try and stay that long…and give you a babe while I’m at it.”

Sansa moaned in response.  She wished for that...a babe.  She bit her lip and lost herself in the pleasure of her husband's body, his warmth and his love.

~~~~~~~~

“We’re home, Sansa,” he said as she woke from the dream and stretched.

The car ride had lulled her to sleep. She felt strangely blissful though a bit achy in her back from the long ride. He walked her inside and then told her he’d be right back.

“You’re cold,” she said, cupping his face as he came back in the house from checking the woods nearby.

“I’m always cold,” he said darkly while closing the curtains.  "It's only the blood of others that warms me now."

“Did you feed?”

“Enough for now,” he grumbled.

He led her to the stairs and she followed him up to their bedroom. Is it our bedroom?

“It's ours,” he said firmly as he beckoned her over to sit beside him.

“Tell me about Bran and the things you saw,” she said as she joined him. 

So, he did. He shared the conversations he had with a different Bran a millennia ago.  He told her of the strangely beautiful but dangerous Dragon Queen, Daenerys Targaryen, who had been his aunt. He shared Bran’s vision of her death and the way he had plotted with Arya to protect their son.

“Eddard,” she whispered, rolling the name across her tongue. “We named him after my father…who is the same as my father. So fucking weird.”

Jon laughed and nodded. He laced their fingers together again as they sat side by side on the bed. He leaned in and kissed her softly. Sansa felt the familiar warmth spreading through her belly at his closeness. She ran her hand up to his curls.  She parted her lips, wanting a deeper kiss.

“Gods, I’ve wanted you all day,” he said heavily as he grasped her waist.

“I want you, too,” she said.

She pulled back giggling and started helping him remove his shirt. She felt free and happy, young and in love.  It didn't matter that some psychotic vampire bitch wanted her dead or whatever right now.  She was his and he was hers. 

He slid his hands under her sweater and was pulling it over her head when he froze and inhaled deeply.

“You smell like…you’re having your blood,” he said as though he were commenting on the weather.

She looked at him in alarm and then realized what he meant. “I’m…I’ve not started yet. I’m not due until Tuesday or thereabouts,” she protested.

Even as she said it, her stomach cramped and she felt a slickness, a trickling sensation between her legs. She rushed to the bathroom and sat on the toilet, angry when she wiped and the toilet paper came back bloody.

He was in bed with the lights turned down when she came out. He’d shed his pants but left his boxers on.

“I can’t believe you stocked the bathroom with tampons and pads,” she said flatly.

“I tried to make sure you had everything you could need,” he shrugged.

"Thanks."

“You alright?”

“I’m bloody terrific. Happy Fucking Nameday,” she said sourly.

“It’s not a big deal, is it?” he chuckled.

“I wanted sex,” she whined.

“Oh…well, I’m glad to hear that. We could still…I mean, I don’t mind if you…” He laughed harder at her perfectly horrified gasp. “I'll take that as a no.  Alright…come on, love. Lie down with me. We don’t have to have sex all the time.”

“I like having sex with you…all the time.”

“Stop, you’re making me blush.”

“You don’t blush,” she grumbled.

She continued cursing under her breath as she changed which made Jon laugh at least. She pulled out a tank top and fresh panties to wear from ‘her’ drawer. She had more than one drawer in his bedroom already though. Our bedroom.

Once she was ready, Sansa crawled in bed next to him. He wrapped his arms around her, so strong but he was cool to the touch almost cold. She shivered and heard him sigh.

“Sorry,” she said softly.

She laid against him with her head pillowed on his shoulder and her own shoulder tucked in his armpit. She traced her fingers along his bare chest.

“No, I’m sorry. I’d like to keep you warm.”

“S’alright,” she said though she wasn’t sure if she meant it just then.

“No, it’s not.”

“You needed to feed, didn’t you?”

“I did. I just…it was just a rabbit and…well, I could’ve used more. I wanted to get back to you.”

“Jon, you can’t protect me from her if you’re exhausted and half starved.”

“I’ll be alright,” he argued and Sansa didn’t want to argue tonight.

She kept running her fingers across his chest, making a pattern of it, a swirling sort of pattern that started at center of his chest above where his heart should be beating but wasn’t. It would spiral out from the center and then she’d start again. She hummed under her breath and grew sleepy.

Jon’s hand that was wrapped around her started stroking her lower back, right above the top of her panties. His fingertips were cool but in the bed she had grown warmer and it was a pleasing feeling now. She realized he was tracing a pattern of his own. Circles…connected to each other, like a chain.

He breathed steadily in and out though he didn’t need to. He’d told her how Jaqen had insisted that they practice breathing until they did it naturally to help them blend in with mortals.

Sansa slid her legs along his. She rolled to her side a bit more and arched her hips against his pelvis.

“Sansa?” he questioned.

“Sorry. I’m horny. I want you. Can I…can I suck your cock, Jon?”

“Do you think I'd say no to that?" he scoffed.  "I’d certainly enjoy it but how’s that help you?”

“I don’t know. It’ll give me pleasure to please you, I think.”

"I don't need that to be pleased.  I'm..."

"Are you planning on talking me out of this?"

"Uh...no," he laughed.

He rolled to his back and she pulled down his boxers. She felt his fingers carding through her hair as she took him in her mouth. He wasn’t hard when she started. She could take all of him into her mouth at first. But it didn’t take long before there was too much of him to hold.

She looked up at his face. His eyes were watching her and she smiled for half a second before she took him in deeper and moaned around him. He answered her moan with his own.

“Jon?”

“Hmm?”

“If you're hungry...could you feed on me? Like you did when I cut my foot…the night I found out what you are?”

His head jerked up from where he’d been relaxing and enjoying his blowjob. He grew tense.

“Sansa…I won’t do that.”

“Why not? I’m right here.  And I don't...”

“If I went too far…”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You get freaked out by blood and scary movies, Sansa.”

“I know but…it was...” She blushed and forced herself to finish, “It was hot when you were…drinking me.”

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and groaned.  “I…” he began.

She lost her nerve at his hesitancy and said, “It's okay.  I understand.”

She gave his cock a lick from base to tip. He growled at her and she smiled. She returned in earnest to sucking him, using her hand to aid her efforts.

His pelvis began moving in time with her hand and mouth but he wasn’t forcing his dick down her throat. He knew just how much to move without making it seem like he was pushing himself on her. She heard him moan again and she hollowed out her cheeks, sucking more to bring him closer.

“Uhnnn…Sansa? Can I…in your mouth?” he asked.

His hands were griping the sheets so tightly. Sansa could hear the fabric begin to tear. She nodded slightly and hummed around him.  She looked up to see his mouth part in a silent roar as he came.

His cum wasn’t hot. It wasn't cold exactly but it wasn't hot like normal.  The temperature difference surprised her as it hit the back of her throat and she coughed before she swallowed him down. He panted. He shouldn’t have to pant. He reached for her and she climbed back up him.

“Can I taste you now?” he begged. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. She didn’t think he’d be willing to drink from her. “Your cunt, I mean,” he clarified next. 

“No!” she screeched. “I’m having my…”

“Sansa…I’m a vampire. If you think your moonblood will bother me, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Seven hells. What do I say? What is there to say?

Sansa closed her eyes and nodded once more.

Sansa woke the next morning sore but sated. She touched the mark on her shoulder near her neck where he’d bitten her. The way he’d looked at her when she’d urged him on again and again until he finally consented.

He slept on beside her as he often did after a vigorous round of sex. She touched his arm. It was burning hot to the touch now and she smirked.

Then, she lifted the covers and gasped. It looks like a fucking crime scene.

“I’ll clean them,” he said sleepily.

“They’re probably ruined.”

“I’ll buy new ones,” he countered. She dropped the covers again and rolled to her side…away from him. “Sansa? Are you upset about what we did?”

“No…not really.”

He grasped her hip, making her turn towards him again. She ducked her chin but he tilted it up so she was looking him in the eye.

“Please, my lovely...don't lie.  Which part upsets you more?” he asked kindly. “Me biting you? Or the other thing?”

Sansa remembered the pain and ecstasy of the bite very clearly. The pain had been fleeting. The ecstasy had been nearly overwhelming. The thrumming of her blood as he drank. The rank smell of blood and brimstone in the air as his eyes flashed red.  The way his lips closed over her, his teeth breaking through her flesh and then his tongue licking and...  Gods, his tongue.

She didn’t care she found. She wanted it all. It left her stimulated, breathless and wanton.

Jon had said it was simply his powers, the way vampires could seduce their prey…but it felt like more than that.

“Just a bit of you, my lovely. Just a very little bit of you is all I’ll take. It’s all I want. All I need. You taste so good to me. You smell better than anything. You taste better than anything.”

On and on he had babbled, struggling to convince himself that it was alright as he licked and sucked and drank.

And all the while as he drank, Sansa had cried out as he fingers worked their magic over her blood-slicked clit. Over and over she came until she was blissed out, foggy and boneless.

“The other part,” she admitted at last. “I enjoyed it but now I’m…not upset but just feeling icky over the other part.”

It was not an image that she’d likely forget. Jon’s face and beard smeared with her blood with his head between her thighs as he lapped away.  His eyes dark and then red by turns.  Gods, how could it have felt that good?  Why was she not cringing in disgust or embarrassment at least? 

He nodded and said, “I’ll draw you a bath, my lovely.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He climbed out of the bed, naked as his nameday and she heard the bathwater running. She nodded off for a moment before he was rousing her. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the tub.

“Lie back, love,” he said as he gently set her down.

She enjoyed the hot bath as it eased the soreness of her tender parts and aching back. Jon jumped in the shower and washed in record speed. He set out fresh towels for her and she heard him scurrying around the bedroom, changing the sheets more than likely.

“I’ll make you some breakfast,” he said.

She felt his eyes roaming her body, noting her latest bruises. They were small, insignificant. But he wouldn’t see it that way.

“It’s alright. You didn’t really hurt me at all.”

“Except there,” he said pointing to the bite mark.

“I didn’t mind it. You were careful. I liked it…a lot.”

He didn’t say anything else but looked sadly away before heading downstairs.

Sansa dried off and pulled out some fresh clothes. She’d slowly been moving more and more things to his place over the past week or so. She found her phone that she’d muted to check the time. She couldn’t believe it was nearly noon and that they’d slept so late.

She was also surprised by the seven missed phone calls in the past hour, five of them from Robb. Her brother usually texted. He didn’t call her that frequently, especially not on a Sunday morning. Her heart started thumping in her chest and her mouth felt dry. Something is wrong.

She dialed his number and waited for him to answer, a sense of doom hanging over her.

“Sansa…” he said. He sounded strange…and terribly young.

She asked though she instinctively knew she really didn't want to hear it. “Robb? What’s happened?”

“Mom and Dad…there’s been an accident. Mom’s in the hospital, in surgery. It doesn’t look good, Sans.” His voice cracked at the last.

Her eyes were already filling with tears and she could feel the chill running from the top of her scalp down to her finger tips. Still, she had to ask.

“Dad?” she whispered.

“He’s…he’s gone, Sansa,” he said with a broken sob and Sansa fainted.

Jon was working on pancakes, hoping they would please her. He focused on making them just right. Just like the shows he used to watch in his obsessive loneliness and boredom before he’d met Sansa…again.

She needed to eat. He wanted to feed her...just as she had fed him.

Don’t! Don’t think on it.

Gods be good, she tasted so divine though.

Shut up! She’s not your fucking buffet. She’ll need to recover from the blood loss, too.

I didn’t take much!  Not that way at least... 

You took enough, filthy beast. The woods are filled with animals. There’s all manner of worthless souls out there if you’re so desperate to feast on a mortal. Why her?

Because she’s mine.  But, I’d never…

I hate you.

“Blueberries,” he said aloud trying to divert his mind and the internal argument. He reached for them and dumped a cup into the batter. “Squeeze some oranges. Fresh squeezed orange juice…for Sansa.”

Guilty much?

Fuck off.

“Maple syrup,” he announced next, practically shouting as he pulled it from the cabinet. “Who wants sausage?”

Is it blood sausage?

“Leave me alone,” he said angrily.

He shook his head and tried not to dwell too much on the things they’d done last night. He’d been honest though. Nothing they had done had bothered him when they were doing it. But in the cold light of morning, she was embarrassed or maybe just grossed out a bit.

And, like always, he was filled with regret because of what he was. He wished now he’d stuck to kissing and cuddling.

And the blowjob?  Could've stuck to that, right?

Well, yeah.

He was pouring the last of the batter on the griddle when he suddenly felt a stabbing pain right through his heart. It literally felt like someone was trying to pull his heart out through his chest with their bare hands.

He grasped the edge of the counter and fell to his knees. He half expected to see a stake coming through his chest from the back but there was no physical explanation for the pain.

He felt his eyes well up with unexplained tears and instinctively knew something was wrong with Sansa, something was very wrong.

“You’ll share her pain,” Jaqen had said.

He raced up the stairs two at a time but, as he reached for the bedroom door, his head began to spin and he fell to the floor.

~~~~~~~

The unruly crowd was shouting and throwing things when they brought Father out. He looked so ragged and weak. They had not been treating him gently at all.

Her brow creased in concern but she had to be brave. She gave Father a loving smile that she hoped he could see.

The king looked splendid in his crimson and gold garments and he gave her a sweet smile when he looked her way.

My beautiful, golden lion will grant my father mercy. He said my words had moved him, she thought.

The crowd grew more restless but when the king spoke, they quieted. He said that his mother had urged him to send Lord Stark to take the Black and she could tell the crowd was not pleased.

It doesn’t matter what they want though. Joffrey is king and he can do what he pleases. He’ll show Father mercy.

Sansa was sad for her father. She didn’t believe he’d done the wicked things they said. His life was too precious to be lost though and all he had to do was speak some meaningless words and be granted mercy.  It would hurt Father to say them but then it would be done and he would live.  He would spend the rest of his life at the Wall with her Uncle Benjen and her half-brother Jon. It won’t be so terrible, will it? Better than death. Perhaps after she gave Joffrey a son someday, he’d let her go and visit them all there.

But then her king’s smile, that she had found so comely earlier, turned nasty.

‘But so long as I am your king, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!’

The crowd roared with approval and she suddenly felt trapped in a nightmare. She struggled but there were strong arms holding her back as she pleaded and screamed and cried. Father was shoved to the ground by the little frog-faced man as Ser Ilyn strode forth with Ice in his hands. She screamed for them to stop but no one listened. The crowd roared its approval. The hands holding her were too strong to break free.

When the little frog…Janos Slynt…held Father’s head up for the cheering crowd, Sansa fainted dead away as her innocence died there on the steps of the Baelor.

~~~~~~~

Jon came to and heard Sansa weeping as he staggered through the door. He could hear Robb’s voice on the phone, crying on the other end of the line and begging her to talk to him. She looked at him and his chest nearly exploded from the pain he saw in her eyes…and felt inside.

“I know,” he said. He picked up her phone from where she’d dropped it on the bed. “Robb?” he said.

“Bring her to the hospital for me,” he sobbed. “We need her here with us.”

“I will,” he said.

He ended the call, wrapped his arms around her and let her weep. It was not enough. She would be weeping for days.

For now, it was soft tears slipping past the shock and denial.

“Was it just an accident?” she murmured numbly after a short time.

“I don’t know,” he said, praying to any gods that might still listen to a corrupted soul like him, wishing with whatever bit of his heart that remained for this not to be Myranda’s doing…and not his fault.

Chapter Text

‘The gods have no mercy. That’s why they’re gods.’

Cersei Lannister- ‘Game of Thrones’ (Episode 02x09 ‘Blackwater’)

Grief & Guilt

Ten days after Eddard Stark was lowered into the hard winter ground, Catelyn Tully Stark drew breath for the last time as her three eldest children kept vigil by her hospital bedside and her two youngest sons kept company with a vampire.

Jon felt her passing. Not that he could feel a soul depart this earth. He felt her passing because of the gaping wound Sansa’s grief in that moment left him. Jon clutched the boy at his side tightly in his grief. Poor Rickon didn’t even know yet.

You will soon, Jon thought sadly.

“Uncle Benjen,” Bran said as a truck approached Jon’s house soon after.

Bran wasn’t looking out the window. He stared at his phone and Jon had assumed he was absorbed in his game or whatever he was doing until Bran spoke. Jon could hear the truck and its bad muffler coming up the drive but Bran likely couldn’t. He stared at the back of the boy’s head and wondered again how much Bran knew of things.

“More than you think,” Bran whispered, rattling Jon to the core.

“What do you know?”

Bran lifted his head and gave Jon that same enigmatic smile, the one he’d given him when he’d asked him about his friends the crows, but he did not answer.

Jon deftly eased a sleeping Rickon from his side as the dogs that Jon had agreed to help care for began baying to greet his visitor. The younger boy murmured sleepily that he was cold and Jon put a blanket over him. He stroked the boys soft, dark auburn curls.

I’m sorry I cannot warm you, sweet boy.

“He doesn’t need your warmth, Jon. Just your strength and protection. We all do,” Bran said.

Jon answered the door and found himself face to face with a man he’d argued with when they’d last met.

Ned Stark’s funeral had been a somber matter of course. But afterwards, the Stark children’s uncles and aunt had begun to discuss what was to be done with Arya, Bran and Rickon until Catelyn Stark was well enough to come home. No one wanted to admit how unlikely that was. Even Sansa was brought up as though she was still a minor to be taken care of.

“Sansa will stay with me,” Jon had said. No one seemed pleased by that. This interloper, this outsider had come to claim their lovely Sansa for his own. He didn’t care. Just try and take her from me.

Arya was nearly 18 and had said she’d go to live with Gendry and that they could all fuck off if they thought she was leaving to stay with Aunt Lysa in the Vale or her Uncle Edmure in the Riverlands.

Uncle Benjen was a life-long bachelor living far to the North, near where the Wall once stood. He offered a home for the children all the same.

Robb Stark had said his siblings could stay with him.

“In your one-bedroom apartment, Robb?” Lysa Arryn had said dismissively.

Her husband Petyr Baelish had tried a smoother approach. “The children would be best with Lysa and I. Benjen is a bachelor with no child rearing experience. Edmure and his wife have their hands full with small children in their home. Their cousin Robin is older and an only child. He would welcome having boys near his age at home. Arya and Sansa could be watched over while they finish their studies and…”

Jon had observed the aunt’s husband closely. He felt a rage boil beneath the surface whenever the man’s eyes fell on Sansa. His thoughts about his ‘niece’ were obscene. Jon thought he’d look better with his throat torn out.

Brimstone and blood, hot and coppery. How sweet it would be, the beast inside had murmured. How hot and wet it would fall upon your tongue.

No…not now.

“No,” Robb had said firmly, interrupting Jon’s murderous thoughts. “This is our home. I can move back home and change jobs if necessary. My brothers and sister will not be uprooted from their lives while we…wait for Mom to come home.”

And if she never comes home? Jon had dismissed the thought guiltily then but now there were no more hope of that.

“The boys…I need to speak with them,” Benjen said.

“Rickon is sleeping,” Jon said wishing to delay the inevitable.

“It’s time he woke,” Benjen said in a hard voice.

He was a good man. Jon could remember loving this man when he was his uncle ages ago. But he had the North in him. He was not given to sentimentality or touchy-feely sugar-coated smiles.

Jon sat in the chair nearby as Rickon wept, wishing he had some comfort to offer. Bran was stricken but no hint of surprise showed on his face. He’d been grieving for his mother same as his father since the accident.

Ghost came slinking up to his side and Jon lifted the furry pup that had grown larger over the past few weeks. He stroked the soft fur and listened to Benjen talk with his nephews.

He had long ago stopped worrying over human grief and misery…until Sansa came into his life. Now, all the centuries of hardening his heart and shielding himself from human emotion were for naught. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for these people…for her. It frightened him in a strange way.

The accident was no accident. He knew it in his heart now. The police had said that according to eyewitnesses a woman had walked out into the road as Ned Stark drove his SUV down the icy road. He saw it in a vision the night Ned died. It wasn’t from his former life though…and he wasn’t present. It was someone else’s memory.

~~~~~~~~

Dark was her cloak and dark was her hate. He would never stop regretting his rejection of her, she vowed. She dared not draw too close to where he was though…and he was everywhere it seemed.

He would hunt her if he caught her scent. At first the game had amused her but Jon was stronger than her. If he caught her, he would tear her limb from limb.

And the Starks…there was something about the Starks and their home that frightened her. It was ridiculous. They were mortals, weak and helpless to her powers. But something surrounded their house, a presence…an old one that did not welcome their kind.

Jon had been invited in and he’d even went to the wood where the great tree waited. The tree was death. Myranda would never go near it.

So, she sought to hurt him and his little slut in a different way.

She stood beside the winding road leading from town back to sacred ground...Winterfell of old. Snow fell softly on the pavement, only to turn to liquid with each passing car’s tires. The grey SUV rounded the bend, they were happy in their cocoon. They felt safe and loved each other. Myranda hated them for their happiness and their love. Why shouldn’t the gods give her what she wanted? Why should foolish mortals be blessed with something that could never last for them?

Myranda smiled, wishing Jon were here to see it. She stepped from the side of the road and into the roadway. The man behind the wheel swerved and the car ran off the road and struck a tree. Soon, flames were engulfing the car. Other cars stopped. Other fools rushed in to help the dying couple.

Myranda walked away and laughed to herself hoping Jon liked this taste of mortality, hoping his little bitch would turn on him for this.

‘You don’t belong with them. You never should’ve forsaken us...never should've forsaken me.’

~~~~~~~~

Jon wondered how Myranda had managed such a feat of telepathy as to share this memory with him. She’d never been especially gifted with it before but it had obviously been important to her. He longed to strangle the life from her…but he lived in terror of Sansa discovering the truth.

No more lies, Jon.

He’d sworn to himself over and over than he would tell her. But then, Ned had needed burying and Catelyn had still been hospitalized. Now, she was dead and would need to be buried, too.

How long can you put off telling her?

As long as is necessary for me to find a way to do so.

And what if she leaves you over this?

She won’t. Not Sansa. She knows I never intended this.

But in his heart, he knew fear.

‘Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.’

Thank you, Yoda. That will be all.

“Jon,” Benjen said breaking in on his thoughts, “Can the boys stay with you another night?”

“Of course,” Jon said. I must get Sansa to stay home with me tonight as well. Perhaps this will sway her.

He grew anxious at all the time she spent at the hospital. He worried about Myranda trying something there. He wondered if Robb or Arya would consider staying with him as well.

The house…Winterfell it’d once been called. They are safe enough there if they’re not with me.

He started to speak again when something drew his attention away from Benjen and the boys.

A scent he knew well…as well as his own.

He rose without a word and raced to the door, muttering the feeblest of excuses to his guests before striding across the backyard towards the pond out back. He broke into a run, faster than any mortal could move, as soon as he felt he was out of sight of the house and raced deep into the forest.

He halted when he drew close.

“You came at last, did you?” he called through the woods.

“I did,” a voice replied.

Sansa zipped up the black pencil skirt over her hosiery and threw the black camisole on over her black bra. The woman in black. I match Jon now, she thought ruefully. Black as my heart these mourning clothes seem.

The pain had been unbearable...and yet it was.  She'd thought to be broken by the grief.  She'd thought she would surely die of the heartache.  And yet she lived, broken heart and all. 

How weak our flesh, how strong our will.  Endure...that is all we can do.

She was reaching for her blouse, a soft grey at least to break up the black, when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she called, assuming Jon must’ve arrived to drive her to the funeral.

But it was not Jon. It was Robb.

“I was wondering if you’d help me with this cursed tie,” he muttered as he strode into the room.

A gentle smile lit her face. Her brother had been so strong for them all. He was grieving and exhausted, as devastated as the rest of them, but Robb had kept them all going and was willing to do anything to keep Bran and Rickon and Arya at home.

“Of course, I can,” she said, turning towards him.

The tired smile on his lips died in an instant and Sansa realized her mistake. The marks.

Grieving is a messy business and there’s no one way to do it right.

Last night at Jon’s while the boys slept down the hall Sansa had wanted something she hadn't expected.  Jon hadn't expected it either. She’d wanted him with a fury she’d never known.  She'd wanted to be dominated...and she'd wanted to dominate, too.  Perhaps it was a jealous sort of wanting. Jon had confessed what Myranda had done.

“All of it is my fault,” he’d wept. “I’ve ruined your life, the lives of your brothers and sister. Your parents are dead before their time because of her…because of me.”

“You have done nothing of the sort, Jon Snow. You’ve done nothing to ruin my life. It is her. I want her dead,” she growled angrily.

“She will be. I will hunt her all my days if needed.”

“We need you here with us.”

“I’m not worthy of you…any of you.”

“You are. You are,” she’d stressed again. She’d kissed him passionately then, an angry, possessive sort of kiss. “You’re mine. She doesn’t get to have you. She means to destroy what we have. She’ll only drive me further into your arms. You’re never to leave me, Jon.”

“I won’t. Not ever, Sansa.” She’d pulled him to the bed then, yanking off her shirt and working to unzip his pants. “Sansa…are you sure? Your mother...I didn’t think you’d want to make love tonight.”

“I don’t want to make love,” she’d hissed. “I want to fuck you. I want you to fuck me hard and make me forget this pain for a time.”

“I can’t hurt you,” he’d insisted.

“You won’t hurt me. Not really," she'd whispered while nipping at his ear.  "Give me a sweet ache to dull my misery, Jon.” His eyes had blazed with desire. Sansa knew he would not deny her. “Fuck me,” she’d commanded once more. “Make me forget.”

And when he’d wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed just enough for Sansa to grow dizzy while her cunt throbbed with the pounding he was giving it, Sansa did forget…just for a while.

And when his mouth had replaced his hands, all the pain and misery had slipped away.

Now, Robb stood halfway in her bedroom staring at his sister’s alabaster throat covered in bites and bruises that were clearly handprints. Her brother’s eyes filled with hate and he turned on his heel.

“Robb! No! It’s not what you think!” she shouted as she grasped his arm before he could escape.

“Oh, really?! What is it then?! Because I sure know what the fuck it looks like!” he shouted.

Sansa winced and closed her bedroom door, not wanting Arya or the boys to come see what was going on.

“I asked for it, Robb.” His lip curled into a snarl and Sansa realized how that sounded. “Not like that! I’m not some victim blaming myself to cover for her abuser, alright? Jon would never hurt me. I wanted…I wanted this last night. I wanted to feel…something.” She bowed her head feeling shame that Robb had seen, shame that Robb was worried now over something that wasn’t anything for him to worry about. “I wanted a different sort of pain.”

“I don’t like it,” he said gruffly. He reached for her, his fingers gingerly touched the marks. “Did he…did he wrap something spikey around your neck?” he asked, trying to make sense of the puncture wounds.

Love bites…that’s all they are, she’d whispered to Jon in his misery and guilt this morning.

“Not exactly,” she said. “Hand me my scarf, please?” Robb flushed and handed it over, averting his eyes now. She could practically hear him composing his plans for attacking Jon upon arrival. “Don’t do anything, alright?”

“He’s…Sansa, he’s rough with you,” he said gruffly.

“Not at all. I swear it. I had to ask for this…repeatedly.”

“I don’t like it,” he said again.

“You don’t have to,” she said simply. “Just…just don’t…don’t hate him Robb.”

“I…if he’s hurting my little sister…”

“Trust me, brother.  He loves me so much.  He'd never hurt me like this without me asking.  Even then...I don't know that I'll ever be able to talk him into it again.  I don't know that I'll want it again either.  The pain has been so...” she trailed off.  Robb nodded at last, seeming to understand that at least. 

He was your brother…long ago. You loved him so much. You don’t trust him now but you may in time. Gods, how would I ever explain everything to you, my practical, stubborn brother?

Sansa kissed her brother’s cheek and said, “This is going to be hard today. Stand beside me and don’t start a brawl at our mother’s funeral.”

Robb’s eyes softened then though his eyes filled with tears.

“Our mother’s funeral,” he repeated. “Gods, Sansa…how did it come to this?”

"I...Robb..." she gasped as the torment welled within her once more.  The pain had only been kept at bay so long.  It flooded back like a tidal wave now.

Sansa wept then and clung to her brother. She’d done so dozens of times over the past fortnight but today it was not just grief or fear that drove her to his arms. It was guilt. She cried harder than she had when their mother had finally given up her agonizing struggle in her hospital bed and sought peace that had been denied her for days.

Robb stroked her hair and held her. He whispered loving words of reassurance in her ear and promised not to kill Jon when he arrived.

And still Sansa wept for the dear man that she called brother and the dear sister and younger brothers down the hall that were hurting.

They don’t deserve this. It is all my fault.

She envied them their ignorance. She envied them not knowing what danger she had put them all in and not knowing that she had killed their parents by falling in love.

The septon spoke the expected words as the January chill seeped into his bones. Well, not truly. He didn’t feel the cold like they did.

“May the gods have mercy on her soul,” the old man said at last as the children of Ned and Catelyn Stark each threw a flower on their mother’s casket.

What mercy have they ever shown mortals…or anyone? Jon thought bitterly.

He stood back from the family. He did not wish to impose on their grief…though he was hurting, too. He could not let it consume him though…he had a watch to keep.

Jon caught Robb’s eye upon him just then. He nodded to him and wondered if he’d act out.  Not just now, I think.

He had sensed the man’s anger the moment he’d entered the house earlier but the anger was wrapped up in conflicted feelings of guilt and a desire to think better of him and trust his sister’s judgment.

I know what that’s about, Jon had thought uncomfortably.

He never wanted to take her so roughly again as he had the night before but he was weak to Sansa’s will. And she had been plenty willful last night.

And deep down…the beast had liked it. More than liked it. Gods, help me.

He thought of the dogs back at his house and hoped Shaggy wouldn’t destroy any more furniture. He was full of anger…like Rickon. Lady whined and cried and tried to follow Sansa around constantly when she was home. Ghost just wanted to be loved...and occasionally peed on the rug. He wasn’t completely housebroken yet.

Jon watched Asha and Margaery approach the Starks and offer their condolences before hugging Sansa firmly. They spotted him and walked over.

“Hey, Curls,” Asha said punching his shoulders. She grasped her knuckles and said, “Fuck. Are you made of stone?”

Jon brushed the question away and hugged them both in turn. These girls loved Sansa and they were dear to her. That made them dear to him, too.

“I’m glad you’re here for her,” he said.

“Of course, we’re here,” Margaery said. “We’re always here for our girl.”

“She’s lucky to have friends like you.”

“She’s lucky to have you, Jon,” Margaery said. No, she's not.  She touched his hand and said, “You should be wearing gloves out here. Your hands are freezing.”

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug.

The girls moved on and Jon felt his presence again. He looked around. Two hundred yards away in a long black coat and hat he stood watching the funeral next to a large monument.

Jon kept looking back over his shoulder as he walked towards his.  He had to assure himself that the Starks were busy and not in any danger.

“Well?” he said approaching Jaqen at last.

“I’ve found where she’s staying, I believe,” he said with his eyes on Sansa. “Jon…are you certain she…”

“She showed me. It was her, Jaqen,” he said eagerly rubbing his hands together.  He didn't need to warm them...but he longed to use them on her.  He longed to make her suffer...but destroying her would be enough. 

“I will help you,” Jaqen offered.  "You've never..." 

Jon cut him off.  “Thank you but you changed her. You and Melisandre tried to make her like you. I won’t ask you to destroy her with me. And besides…I’d rather do this alone.”

Chapter Text

‘I’ve been in love. It’s painful, pointless and overrated.’

-Damon Salvatore, ‘The Vampire Diaries’

‘I want to direct my power and my anger against people that deserve it.’

-Tony Soprano, ‘The Sopranos’

The Debt is Paid

“I pledge myself to you and the service of House Stark for the rest of my days, my lady,” Ser Jaime had stood before her and sworn several moons earlier.

“You don’t have to do this, Ser,” Sansa had demurred.

Jon had looked at the man crossly. He did not want his oath but Ser Jaime wasn’t offering it to him.

“I do. You are my last chance for honor, Sansa Stark. And when I fall, if I fall in the service of House Stark and defending it from its enemies, then you will know that the debt is paid and, if the gods will grant me a dying wish, this sword shall be returned to you.”

Sansa sighed to recall that day when Jon and Ser Jaime had still been at Winterfell…before the war had begun.

The ragged man-at-arms knelt before her laying the sword at her feet. It was dirty and there was dried blood on it still but she recognized it at once. The proud lion was no more.

She wanted to weep but that would not do here. Bran sat beside her at the table and laid a hand upon her elbow.

The solider was blue from the cold and missing an eye. Dried blood was crusted along his forehead. He wore weariness like a cloak. Many moons of fighting. March, fight, retreat. March, fight, retreat.

Drogon had been kept back lately out of fear while Rhaegal’s rider risked all. But at least Jon as king could seek a few minutes of peace if needed.

On the ground, with no horse, there was no escaping the drudgery of marching and existing in the harsh Northern winter in between the intensity of battle for the foot soldiers. This man had bled for the North. He’d sacrificed for the Living.

“Please, rise and take a seat,” Sansa said as she pressed a hand to her belly where the babe kicked. His kicks grew stronger every day. Sansa smiled to herself faintly. Our babe grows strong…little Eddard. She didn’t know when she’d become so convinced she was carrying Jon’s son but she just knew now. An heir for my king. A son for my love.

“It was Ser Jaime’s dying wish that the sword be brought directly to you, Your Grace. King Jon allowed me to return and bring it to you.”

“This sword is Valyrian steel,” she said eyeing the sword where it lay. “It belongs with men who can wield it against our enemy. What good does it do a pregnant woman?” The man did not answer. “At the very least, it should’ve gone to Lord Tyrion. He is the last Lannister now and…”

“Beg pardon, my lady, but Lord Tyrion insisted it go to you. He said it were forged from Ice and should be restored to House Stark at last.”

Sansa bit her lip and truly wished that she could cry now. Poor Jaime…poor Brienne.

“Thank you,” she said to the man with a soft smile. “Thank you for your service to our king. I will have a bed prepared for you to rest. But first, there is hot soup in the kitchens and our maester can see to your wounds.”

“My wounds are tolerable, Your Grace…but hot soup would be most welcome. A bed will be even more welcome afterwards.”

Sansa nodded and the man rose to leave. “How far did you come, Ser?” she asked before he’d made it across the hall.

“I am no knight, my lady,” he said with a bow. “My name is Garrett.”

“Garrett…a fine name. How far did you travel, Garrett?”

“I traveled but a day to reach Winterfell.”

“Not so very far at all,” Bran said cryptically.

“No, my lord. The war draws close…and hopefully to a close soon.”

The man left then and Sansa awkwardly bent over to retrieve the sword from her feet. Eight moons gone, she could no longer see her own feet without more effort than she wished to exert. She huffed and caught her breath once it was done and carefully placed the sword across her lap.

“Forged from Ice,” she said quietly, strangely tempted to run her fingers along the blade. But that would be folly.

“No blade is as sharp as Valyrian steel,” Jon had said to her more than once while cleaning Longclaw.

“Yes,” Bran replied. “Long has that steel defended House Stark.”

“Long may it continue to do so,” Sansa said as she looked at the elegant pommel. A sword for you, Sweet Eddard. And may your Papa be the one to teach you how to wield it. “I need to tell Brienne…about Jaime,” she said sadly.

“She knows,” Bran said. “She already knows.”

“Joffrey named this Widow’s Wail,” Sansa said.

Bran snickered at that and Sansa felt a lightening in her chest. Bran showed emotion rarely these days. His laughter was rarely heard…but when he did laugh, it brightened her darkness just as much as Eddard’s kicks did.

“Ser Jaime did not bother changing the name but perhaps we can come up with a better one, brother.”

“I’m certain of it,” he replied.

~~~~~~~~

Sansa woke in the early morning light with the word Winter on her lips.

Her hand crept across the sheets, seeking his warmth…or his body anyway. Nothing but cool and empty sheets did her hand find.

She sighed and covered her eyes. The dream lingered in her mind but so did the events of the previous day.

They had buried her mother yesterday. The family had returned to her parents’ house afterwards but Jon had been absent or preoccupied most of last night. He’d told her not to worry when he’d come to her bed late. He had smelled of the woods…and blood.

“Stay here today. Keep your family here as well,” he’d whispered in her ear in the predawn hours.

It had seemed like a dream at the time. It was still dark out. But now, she knew he’d spoken the words…and apparently left her then.

Sansa rolled over towards the nightstand by her girlhood bed and grabbed her phone to check the time.

7:24 AM

She suppressed a groan and rose from the bed. Her bruises from the other night were fading but still visible. She pulled a turtleneck from her bag she’d brought from…somewhere.

Where do I belong now? Am I still a student living in the dorms? Do I live with my boyfriend the vampire now? Have I returned to my parents’ home to stay now that they are gone?

She padded downstairs to find Bran sitting at the table eating cereal and Robb making coffee. He was wearing a shirt and tie.

“Where are you going?” she asked Robb.

“Work. Just for a bit.”

“We just buried our mother. They cannot seriously expect you…”

“No one asked me to come in, alright? I’ve been here for days though and I just thought I’d look over a few things for a couple of hours,” he said with a slightly guilty tone.

“Robb needs a little break from all of us,” Bran said from the table.

“I don’t…it’s not like that, Bran.”

“It’s alright, brother. We’ll be fine for a few hours. There’s debts to pay and oaths to keep outside of our house.”

Bran was trying to be amusing but Sansa dropped her coffee mug at his words as the blood drained from her face. The ceramic shattered on the tile floor. A shard struck her bare foot and tore a gash in her flesh. The hot coffee burned the tips of her toes and the tops of her feet where it splattered.

“Sansa? Are you…”

“Where is the sword, Robb? Where is Dad’s sword? The Stark sword?”

“It’s…I think Dad put it away after Rickon got it out to show Jeyne at your name day party.”

Sansa raced up the stairs to her parents’ bedroom, ignoring her bleeding foot. Her heart was beating rapidly.

Valyrian steel…and the Proud Lion. The debt is paid. Long may it defend House Stark from its enemies.

Sansa looked frantically through their large, walk-in closet. Clothes and shoes and boxes of old bills, her mother’s photo albums and her father’s unloaded hunting rifle. No ancient sword.

“Sansa?” Robb asked. Bran stood behind him in the doorway.

She found the stepstool in the corner and searched the higher shelves. She nearly screamed when her hand met the leather-bound case her father had always kept it in under a stack of her mother’s sweaters. He and Uncle Benjen would take it down on occasion and clean it. Robb had been allowed to hold it and clean it as well since he’d reached adulthood. Sansa had never asked to and no one ever suggested that she try. The others had been deemed too young.

“This is no toy,” her father had said to them all in a harsh tone once when Robb was still a teenager and had snuck upstairs to see the sword without permission. “For centuries it has it been in our family. It is old…but still sharp. It could still kill a man. None of you are to touch it without permission.”

Rickon had been no more than three then. He’d likely forgotten the warning. She knew her father had been furious on her name day when Rickon had brought it downstairs. Arya said that Rickon was still technically grounded from it.

I suppose that’s all done now, she thought sadly.

She pulled the heavy box down off the shelf and carried it to her parents’ bed.

“Sansa…what are you doing with Dad’s sword? We’re not supposed to…”

“It’s your sword now, Robb. Do I have your permission to touch it?” she asked, half-teasingly and half filled with heart ache.

She laid the box down. There was a fierce, snarling wolf emblazoned on the box. A direwolf. She started unfastening the elaborate buckles that kept it closed.

“It’s not mine…” Robb began. But it was. He was Ned Stark’s eldest son. It would pass to him.

Bran came forward, an eager look on his face. “Yes, Sansa. The steel. It’s no ordinary sword. It could…”

He stopped speaking though as she opened the box. It was empty…as empty as her empty sheets.

“Where in Seven Hells is Winter?!” Robb shouted, angry now that the family heirloom was apparently missing.

Sansa didn’t answer but she knew. She exchanged a look with Bran. He knew, too.

A thief now. Is that what you are on top of everything else, beast?

I’ll return it. It’s Robb’s. It was always meant to be Robb’s.

Why? It could be yours. It was meant to be yours at one time.

It was never meant to be mine. I’m not a Stark.

“You are to me,” a voice whispered in his ear.

Jon fastened the sword belt around him, wearing nothing but his favored black jeans, a black t-shirt and boots. He’d pulled his hair back out of the way.

You look ridiculous wearing that sword in those clothes.

Would you be happier if I unearthed a tunic and some old armor? I’m not play-acting. I’m going to kill a fellow monster.

The Man in Black.

Yes…Sansa would agree with that at least.

How long’s it been since we’ve held a sword?

Too long. I’ll likely make a damned fool of myself with it.

He had noticed the sword when Rickon had brandished it before him at Sansa’s name day. The merest hint of a memory had been stirred but nothing significant.

It wasn’t Longclaw. It was nothing to me. He wondered what became of Longclaw after he died. Lost to me…like everything else.

But he knew what it was and took note. Nothing holds an edge like Valyrian steel. It was practically unheard of for anyone outside of a museum or the national archive to possess such a priceless sword.

He had spoken to Jaqen at the cemetery and again in the woods near his former home after nightfall. He knew where Myranda was. And he knew what he meant to do. But Jaqen had knowledge that Jon did not so he asked out of curiosity…and he learned. She was strong but he had a slight advantage there. But any little help, any little advantage should not be readily dismissed.

“Where did you get this?” Jaqen had asked in wonder as Jon held out the sword he had swiped from upstairs while the Starks and their aunt and uncle had grieved together last night.

“It belonged to Ned Stark. It’s been passed down through generations of Starks.” Jaqen had reached out a hand towards the pommel and then retracted it…as though he was afraid. “Why do you fear this blade, Jaqen?”

“It could kill me.”

“Is that such a frightening thought to you? To die at long last?”

Jaqen had looked at him curiously. “Perhaps a bit…now that a man has lived so long. Does it not frighten you, Jaehaerys?”

Jon had not answered. It didn’t…and it did. He did not wish to remain a beast but he could not bear the thought of leaving Sansa. But how much worse would it be for her to leave him? And some day, she would.

“The bitterness of mortality,” Jaqen had said then having read his thoughts.

“Yes.”

Jon refocused on the present and pulled the Weirwood stake from his bag. He had taken it from Bran’s room.

“Just getting ready, sweet sister,” Bran had said when Sansa had asked what he was doing with it.

The three-eyed raven. The winged wolf. Who are you Brandon Stark? What are you? And how much do you know?

Focus, Jon Snow. Now is not the time for these questions.

Myranda deserved the worst sort of death, long and torturous.

He thought of Catelyn Stark, clinging tenaciously to life for days while hooked up to machines. She would’ve been in great pain if not for the medicine pumped through her battered body continuously. Myranda deserved that and far worse for causing Sansa’s mother that sort of pain.

But he was not so cruel as Myranda. It had never been his nature. And this way was surer.

Valyrian steel is sharp enough to behead her.

The Weirwood stake through her heart would end her just as surely but the steel would be simpler. But once he did that, Jon meant to tear her corpse to pieces and burn her. Jaqen had said nothing should remain of her. Part of him wished he could do those things while she could still feel it.

He tucked the stake down into his boot.

He thought of the five Stark children, from Robb to Rickon. Their heartache and pain, losing both of their beloved parents because of a jealous-hearted bitch. Just because she’d wanted him and he didn’t want her in return. She was not the first woman that didn’t get what she wanted from him…his heart. Because it had already belonged to another.

“Sansa…my lovely girl,” he murmured under his breath like a prayer.

He would never be able to make it up to them. He could live forever but he could not bring Ned and Catelyn Stark back to life. But he could give them this vengeance…this mean form of justice. It was the best he had to offer anyway.

Jon shook his head and headed towards the cave. He was ready…and there was a vampire to slay.

Myranda wiped the blood from her mouth with the cuff her of coat. It was red, fitted and hung down below her knees. She thought it suited her own personal sense of style, along with the choker necklace Theon had once offered her after a hunt, a hundred years ago or more.

Theon…he wasn’t what she’d wanted though she’d had him anyway. Years and years of living together, they were bound to fuck at least a time or two, right?

But not Jon Snow. Not once had he taken her hints. Not once had he taken her up on her offers…even when she’d climbed into his bed, naked as her name day. He’d only pushed her away.

Oh, kindly of course. Jon Snow was kind for a vampire. He did not laugh at her and tell her she was undesirable or that he didn’t want her.

He’d only shook his head with those sad, dark eyes of his and said, “No, Myranda. We mustn’t. I could never feel that way about you.”

She would’ve preferred cruelty to his pity.

In love with a ghost even then, even when he couldn’t remember her anymore.

It simply wasn’t fair. If they were nearly gods here on earth, why should they not have what they want? Why should Myranda not be what he wanted?

She let the dead female hiker fall to the ground having drained the last of her blood. The male she’d killed yesterday. They’d made the mistake of exploring her cave…a fortuitous turn of events for Myranda and an extremely unfortunate one for them.

She’d bound the young woman, letting her watch helplessly as Myranda killed her boyfriend. She’d reveled in her grief and terror all through the night as she sobbed and begged for Myranda to release her. Of course, that had never been an option at all.

“Young love,” she’d merely said in a taunting tone. “Such a pity.”

She’d needed to feed, to be strong in case he found her.

It was liberating to be out from under Jaqen and his rules, free to prey on humans whenever she wished. But within reason. She couldn’t be discovered just now. The others had turned on her, too…all because of Jon and his cursed love.

Love...how she hated love.

Melisandre was weak but Jaqen protected her fiercely. She did not think she was strong enough to fight him.

Theon was a match for her in strength and though he might harbor some deep-seated and twisted affection for her, he would still fight her if Jaqen said.

And Jon meant to kill her. All because of that little red-headed whore and her family.

Sansa Stark. Strange dreams Myranda had had the past three nights about her. Strange dreams of another place and time. And another man that had preferred Sansa Stark to Myranda.

“You smell like dog, Myranda. You don’t get to play with my pretty wife. Go on.”

Rage roiled through her like a thunderclap at the thought…the memory.

Ramsey. Did you ever love me at all? Or was it all just a game to you?

They were seeking her but none of them had found her yet. She’d been careful…so clever. The cave was far enough from the school and where she had lived that no one would catch her scent. Far from Jon’s house and even further from the old lands of the Starks and their tree that smelled of Death.

She’d only been here a few times…with Theon. They had fucked here on nights Jaqen had permitted them to kill. She was always willing after a hunt…and so was Theon. She would close her eyes and call him Jon the whole time and Theon hadn’t ever said a word of complaint. That was the thing about Theon. He was…obedient. Myranda would’ve preferred someone more dominate, like Ramsey had been. Still…it had been enough. He would fuck her like an animal from behind and then bite her neck hard until they both came.

No one would’ve expected her to hide here, in a dirty, dank cave of all places. There was plenty of places a vampire might go, most of them far more pleasant she would think.

The cave entrance was not very large but it opened to a clearance that was tolerable, perhaps seven feet in height and around twenty feet wide by fifteen feet long. The terrain of this part was fairly flat and the floor was covered with dirt, pebbles and the bones of small animals. Past that it became a narrow tunnel that sloped downward, deeper into the ground. If one cared to travel perhaps half a mile in the dark there was an exit but it was easy to miss if you didn’t know where to look and the cave would take you further into the earth. Myranda had found the exit once. She had not bothered to travel further than that.

It was not an ideal place to get trapped but she felt safe enough. She had convinced herself she’d be safe enough here while she plotted her next move.

It was early still though daylight on the January morning. Snow was falling in the woods, quiet and peaceful. Such an incongruous setting for the savagery Jon had planned this morning.

Her scent was everywhere as he drew closer to the cave. Just as Jaqen had said…just as Theon had told him. Jon felt sympathy for Theon. He had truly cared for her. But in the end, he had told Jaqen of the place she might be hiding. And indeed…she was here.

He hoped she was in the cave. She might not notice his scent right away if she was.

“I want her dead,” Sansa had said.

She will be. A beast I might be but I am your beast and this beast will kill for you. Anyone that threatens you…anyone you want dead really.

He inhaled deeply and let her scent guide him along with his hate and his rage. An immortal would die this day…and it would not be him.

He let go of that part of him that was still Jon Snow; the man inside that monster, the one that could hold Sansa tenderly in his arms, the man that could gently stroke Rickon Stark’s hair as he slept, the part of him that loved the little white pup named Ghost.

This morning, he embraced that other part of his nature, the icy cold part that hated and the fiery part that lusted for blood.

Jon’s fangs came out and the roaring animal inside was unleashed. His eyes flashed red now and he could smell that essence, that more reckless part of him that was seeping from every pore. Fire and blood.

The last thirty yards was a dead sprint to the entrance where she waited.

Daytime it might be but it was dark inside the cave. But it only took Jon’s nocturnal nature a moment to take over. He saw the bodies on the floor before he spied her, crouched in the corner and ready to spring.

An angry hiss came from Myranda in the darkness of the cave which was not darkness for them at all. He roared in response and charged at her, drawing the sword. Her eyes widened in surprise. She had not expected a weapon. He could read her thoughts after all.

She lifted a hefty, hiking stick from the floor nearby but it was no match for a sword, certainly not this sword. Winter…the Stark’s sword. The blade obliterated the stick but it did manage to deflect his strike enough for her to dodge him.

He swung again, making a slashing cut but he swung too high. The sword hit the roof of the cave above him. He could feel bits of rock and dirt falling lightly on his head from where he’d unearthed them.

You should’ve remembered. A long sword is not as good in close quarters.

“I don’t need a blade to kill you, Myranda,” he said, returning it to its scabbard. “I will tear you apart with my bare hands.”

“Not if you don’t catch me. Not if I kill you first,” she responded.

She picked up the other hiker’s stick and took up a defensive stance. Jon lunged at her, their movements like a choreographed dance…except far faster than any human eye could’ve appreciated. They turned and twirled, ducked and dodged, a whirl of fists and kicks, snarls and growls, as Myranda parried his attacks with the stick.

He pressed her hard and nearly had her hemmed in against the cave wall…till she turned and climbed it before turning a flip in the air above and landing on her feet behind him.

And now it was Myranda that attacked with the solid stick, aiming high though Jon easily ducked the blow and then aiming low where he jumped…and was nearly brought down when he landed awkwardly on one of the dead people. He backed away to regroup. He must not allow his rage to cloud his judgment and deter his focus.

For Sansa. You do this of her, he thought to clear his mind. He whispered her name aloud.

Myranda screamed, “I will kill her after I kill you! I’ll kill her whole family!”

But, in her outburst, her defenses slipped just enough and he moved to strike, faster than any snake. He disarmed her in one move and broke the hiking stick over his knee, making two smaller batons that he could easily twirl in his hands and use to effect.

Myranda realized her disadvantage but he blocked the cave entrance so she fled to the rear of the open area. Jon pursued but she was fast and had a better idea of where she was leading him. She could not allude him indefinitely though for he could hear her thoughts and smell her. Both reeked of fear.

It was black as pitch the further they went down the path, Myranda always just ahead. He lost sight of her at one point at a sharp bend. When he resumed his pace, he realized something wasn’t right. He was heading deeper and deeper into the cave but she was no longer ahead of him.

Panic gripped him. He couldn’t let her escape again. She’d be desperate now. She’d go straight to Sansa.

He stopped running and listened. He tried to catch her scent…and her thoughts.

Another way out. There is surely another way out.

Doubt riddled him though. What if she was still ahead and he just need to keep pursuing her?

No…she is not ahead. She’s taken some turn that I missed.

He turned back the way he’d come but had to go a bit slower to find it. The fear stayed with him. Every minute she was out of sight, she could be racing towards the Starks. None of them could hope to defeat her, not even the five of them together…except for the Valyrian steel and the Weirwood stake that he’d taken.

No, don’t think that.

If you’ve taken the only weapons that could possibly protect them...

They wouldn’t know how to fight her anyway. She’d easily disarm them and then kill them one by one.

He nearly missed it in his worry. A dim little shaft of daylight drew his eye and the smell of fresh snow and Sentinel trees. The escape route.

He followed it until he was met by the snowy morning once more, the white and the quiet of a purer world, one he didn’t feel he belonged in.

As his night eyes adjusted to the brightness, she leapt from the rocky outcrop of the cave’s small exit above him and landed heavily on top of him.

Jon instinctively avoided her fangs where she sought to tear his flesh. Her hands grasped for his neck, hoping to tear him apart.

He rolled to his back and reached towards his boot as he felt her hands close around him. When he grasped the stake with his fingertips, he put the rest of his effort into throwing her off of him. He sprung like a shadow cat to regain his footing.

She bellowed and raced towards him, perhaps mistaking the stake in his hands for the broken hiking stick he had dropped when she jumped on him. But when he plunged the stake into her heart, she realized what he held and shrieked in agony.

The Weirwood belonged to the old gods and the old gods did not love their kind. A splinter from the stake tore into his hand and he cursed at the pain. He could only imagine how it might feel buried in his chest.

The wound hissed and smoked and Myranda fell to the snow. Her red coat was bright against the white powder and the blood she’d consumed not so long ago covered the ground around her as it seeped from her back.

“End it!” she screamed.

He had expected death to be instantaneous. Apparently not.

“End it,” she begged this time.

A monster I might be…but I am not a cruel one.

He took the sword from its scabbard and beheaded Myranda in one, sure swing. He watched her head roll a few feet across the snow and come to a rest near a stump.

The debt is paid. The phrase echoed in his mind for some reason.

No, it’s not truly. Ned and Catelyn Stark are still dead. But…it’s something at least.

He sank to his knees and did something he had not done in a millennia. He thanked the old gods for their gifts…the gift of death.

He built a fire and used the sword to cut Myranda’s corpse to pieces and then burned her flesh. He thought of the unfortunate hikers in the cave but left them. If he burned them, there was likely no hope they’d be found and there’d be no closure for their families. What comfort they would find in their mysterious deaths though, who could say?

Once he finished, he stomped out the fire and cleaned the sword. It did not belong to him.

Chapter Text

‘You don’t need scores of suitors. You need only one…if he’s the right one.’

-Amy March from ‘Little Women’ by Louisa May Alcott

Two months later

“How about this one?” Jon whispered in her ear as the lights in the theatre darkened and the trailer began to roll.

“A horror movie? You must be joking,” Sansa huffed.

“Horror movie?” he snorted. “It’s…it’s ‘The Smurfs.’ How in the world is that a horror movie?” he asked gesturing at the screen.

“Creepy little blue creatures that live amongst the toadstools,” Sansa said as though that explained everything perfectly whilst munching on her buttered popcorn and cherry Twizzlers. “They’re weird. They give me the creeps.” He started chuckling and she smacked his arm…not that it did her any good. “They’re…ow! You’re not nearly smack-able enough, you know,” she winced whilst giving her hurt hand a shake. 

“Sorry,” he said as he took her hand in his to massage.

She pointed back to the singing, dancing blue folk on screen with her free hand. The Twizzler in that hand whished through the air like a whip making her serious expression in the face of this lunacy appear all the more adorable.

“They freak me the fuck out, okay? Thus, this shall be labeled a horror movie.”

He tugged her closer, kissing the top of her head and breathing in the sweet scent of Sansa to clear his senses of the musty theatre, stale popcorn and mixture of crushed pieces of candy and sticky sweet soda that the place reeked of.

“I love you, Sansa Stark. You’re absolutely mad…but I love you.” She grinned and he said more gently, “I’m glad we’re doing this tonight.”

“Even if I sing along to all the songs?”

“How many times have you seen it now?”

“A fair few. Marg is a closet Disney fan, too.”

“I never would’ve pegged you as a ‘closet’ Disney fan,” he said with obvious sarcasm.

“True. I’m well out of that closet since birth. Marg went into hiding around the age of 11 though.”

“I can’t wait to hear you sing along to, um…”

“Moana.”

“Yes…Moana.”

Two and half months had passed since she’d lost both her parents senselessly to Myranda’s jealously. Two months had passed since he’d slain Myranda with a Weirwood stake through the heart and beheaded her with the Stark’s ancestral sword.

They were all struggling in their own ways but also trying to put the pain of loss behind them one baby step at a time. It was still far too near for anything like healing though.

Jon had things the easiest of course as they were not his parents and he’d long ago lost the ability to be moved by death the same way mortals were. But his guilt over being the cause of it all was still with him. And his connection with Sansa could still overwhelm him at times and render him a sobbing mess unexpectedly. He knew he would need time to seek closure and healing the same as the Stark children.

The first day Sansa had returned to class, an acquaintance had casually offered their condolences and Sansa had been gutted. Jon, fifteen miles away, had been gutted, too. He’d hurried to campus not knowing what was wrong, just knowing something was wrong and believing that she needed him. He’d burst into her classroom unannounced, frightening the students and professor alike, not realizing that a three-minute trip to the ladies’ room for a quite cry had been all it took for Sansa to compose herself enough to make it through class.

“I’m fine,” she’d hissed, urging him to wait for her outside as the others took in the wild look in his eye.

Once he was near her, he had read her thoughts and realized he’d over-reacted. He’d also given the ‘acquaintance’ in question a murderous glare that had caused the boy to sink into his chair with hopes of disappearing all together no doubt.

“You nearly frightened poor Horas to death with your look,” Sansa had snickered when her class had ended and she’d joined him outside.

“He deserved it,” he’d muttered.

Sansa had returned to school…and unofficially moved into his house. She still spent time with Marg and Asha though. She just didn’t want to live in the dorms when she could be with him. Jon had to agree that he liked this arrangement far better.

“A three-way battle over who’s hanging up the red ribbon each night could get ugly,” she’d joked.

She’d been torn about going back to school at first, feeling that she was needed at home to help Robb with her younger siblings. But Robb had been adamant about her continuing school. His job was working with him, allowing him to adjust his schedule as needed so he could be there to see Bran and Rickon off to school each morning and see to it they didn’t have to wait indefinitely for him to make it home. He was coping with the commute for now and he was permitted to work from home on day each week. It was a strain on him though all the same. One that he shouldered silently of course because that’s just how Robb was.

Jon had encouraged Sansa to go back to school the same as Robb…and to come and live with him. Perhaps Robb would not have been fond of that part but Jon wouldn’t be staying away from Sansa and, if she were living with him near school, he wouldn’t constantly be hanging around where Robb was. Jon had figured staying out of his way was best for all concerned at present.

The tension between them that had been there since Halloween when Robb had picked his little sister up to get her away from the stranger in black and his even stranger friend had never fully dissipated. And the day Jon had killed Myranda, Robb had learned the truth…the whole truth. It had certainly not made them the brothers they had once been.

That morning when he’d returned to their home with the sword, they’d been waiting for him…Sansa, Bran and Robb. Arya and Rickon had not been home. They’d missed quite the discussion.

I imagine most big brothers might not take the news so well when they learn their sister’s boyfriend is a vampire and another member of his coven was responsible for the death of their parents.

Robb wouldn’t accept the words. He’d had to be shown of course. He was…practical. Stubborn, too. He was as brave as any young man could be but, when Jon’s fangs came out, he cowered like any man would. He’d wound up looking at the three of them as though they were insane.

Bran had reassured Robb that Jon was part of them though and that his connection with Sansa was far deeper than Robb realized. He has also said that he would never intentionally hurt their sister. Jon hadn’t liked that word…intentionally. He hadn’t liked the way Bran’s eyes passed over him when he said it either.

“So, I’m expected to just accept this and…be okay with it?” Robb had asked the room in general at last. Robb had been holding Winter then. Jon could read his thoughts and wondered if Robb would ever try it.

Well, you did tell him that the sword could end you.

Jon wondered if he’d even bother putting up a fight if Robb wanted to end him.

“Yes, Robb. I want you to accept it…please,” Sansa had said. “But even if you don’t…I love Jon. I’m meant to be with him for…for however long we can be together.”

“Are you going to turn her into a monster like you?” Robb had asked coldly. He had looked between them pair of them with the sword still in his hand.

“No, Robb. I don’t want that for her ever,” Jon had replied. He caught Sansa’s brief look of sadness and…disappointment. “If I ever hurt your sister, feel free to use that on me,” Jon had said next while pointing at the sword.

Sansa had gasped at his words but Robb had nodded and put the sword away at last. When he returned, they four of them had stood staring at one another until Bran broke the tension with a question. 

“What happened to the stake I made?”

“It burned…with her body.”

“Well…I suppose I can always make another,” Bran had said with a strange little look of disquiet.

Jon still couldn’t explain how Bran had known about him all along it seemed. What all do you know?

“See the line where the sky meets the sea

It calls me

And no one knows

How far it goes…”

The animated girl sang on screen as Sansa softly sang along with her pulling Jon back to the present. His girl, a movie, a date night. Simple things not meant for a complicated monster like him.

The movie had been out for months…and Sansa knew all the words of course. The lights were dim and Jon kissed her hand as he relaxed into the seat. He looked around the nearly empty theatre and wondered if making out would be part of this experience. He awkwardly wrapped an arm around her shoulders, trying not to disrupt her singing or cause her to spill her now forgotten popcorn.

Is this right?

Seven fucking hells…you’ve fucked her dozens of times and you’re worried about putting your arm around her shoulders?

“What’s wrong?” she asked, sensing his discomfort.

“I’ve just never…dammit. Don’t laugh, alright?”

“What?”

“Well, I’ve never been on a proper movie date before and I’m worrying about whether I’m doing this right. I feel like I’m failing at being a good boyfriend. I don’t take you out and such.”

“What are you talking about? We go places all the time.”

“Me eating you out and then stopping to buy you something to eat isn’t a date.”

“Jon…”

“And we always end up grabbing food and fucking somewhere…my car, the house...”

“Elevators and alleyways…the library…” Sansa added with a grin.

“This is the first time I’ve asked you out to the movies and came to school to pick you up from your late class and…”

“What a proper young vampire you are,” she teased.

“Well, you deserve…” He twirled his hand around fruitlessly for a moment. “You deserve the best, Sansa. And you deserved to be wooed.”

“Wooed?”

“Yes, wooed…every single day,” he said with nod. “Fuck! That reminds me. I meant you bring you flowers, too. I knew I was forgetting something,” he grumbled.

Her eyes widened and a smirk danced across her lips. His brow furrowed into a scowl and she quickly cleared her throat to quash the laughter he could practically hear forming in her throat.

“You, uh…you took me to White Harbor to see that exhibit,” she said. “That was a lovely date.”

“Yeah, and then I got weak from too much sun and not enough blood and you had to drive. And then, you experienced a horrible, heartbreaking memory from the past…”

“Don’t remind me,” she sighed. She glanced back up at the screen and he could see the tears forming in her eyes.

Great job, idiot. Way to remind her of the death in childbed she suffered while bearing your child. Think of something else to mention.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. He ducked his head and whispered in her ear, “But then, we stopped for the night and wound up having sex for the first time.”

“You can remind me of that,” she grinned now. He smiled at her. “It still counts as a date,” she added, patting his knee. He shrugged and fidgeted in his seat. If you keep touching me… “You really are nervous about this, aren’t you?”

“A little,” he admitted.

“Oh, gods,” she laughed.

“I told you not to laugh.”

“I’m sorry,” she said…before she started snickering again. She started choking on a piece of popcorn though and he whacked her on the back. She gagged and spluttered until the offending kernel went flying across the row of seats in front of them. “Ow! Are you trying to hurt me?” she asked.

“No!” he swore. She rolled her eyes at him and he opted for tickling her next. She was soon crying with laughter and begging him to stop. “Beg me some more,” he prompted.

“Later, Jon…if you get lucky.”

“Oh, I’m getting lucky with you tonight, my lovely.”

“Pretty confident, aren’t you?” she asked with a raised eyebrow and an imperious look.

“Well, I…”

“Yeah, you’re getting lucky later,” she said laughing once more.

They exited the theatre back to the lobby and Jon was busily gushing about the colors and animation. She knew he liked movies but was pleased he’d enjoyed this one with her.

“I swear to you Sansa. When ‘Snow White’ came out, people were absolutely amazed by how advanced it seemed and the color. But now…seeing this film…”

“Animation has come a long way,” she agreed.

He grasped her hand as they headed towards the exit and began whispering all the delightful ways he wanted to woo her. And none of them involved sex even. Go figure.

Jon was offering bowling and mini-golf and Sansa wanted to laugh at this sudden enthusiasm to do ‘couple stuff.’ Just as they reached the sidewalk, a voice called her name.

“Sansa? Sansa Stark?”

She turned to find Harry Hardyng smiling at her from the ticket line. He had two friends with him. Both reminded her of Joffrey with their frat boy clothes and haircuts.

“Harry? Wow…it’s been ages,” she said in surprise. She ignored Jon’s scoff at her use of the word ‘ages.’

“Yeah. I’ve not seen you since graduation. How’ve you been?” Harry asked with a quick glance at Jon and an equally quick glance at her chest.

“Good. Well, not good actually but I’m good tonight. I thought you were attending KLU,” she said to deflect Harry away from any questions about her.

“I was but I moved back over the break. I’m thinking of transferring here but I’m just taking a little time off for now.”

Aww…did you flunk out already? Didn’t find a girlfriend to help you with your papers there like I did?

“Oh…well, that’s, um…this is my boyfriend, Jon Snow. Jon…this is Harry Hardyng.”

She noted the way Jon’s eyebrows were raised…and the slight tightening of his jaw.

Yes, the one that I lost my virginity to in high school. He’s a douche but please don’t eviscerate him in front of all these nice people.

Jon chuckled to himself at her thoughts as she’d hoped he would and shook Harry’s outstretched hand. Harry visibly winced and retracted his hand as though he’d been burned.

Behave, Jon…or no action for you tonight.

Jon cleared his throat and muttered an apology. “Sorry…I forget my own strength sometimes.”

Harry was looking him up and down and a smirk appeared on his lips. He was taller than Jon by a good six inches at least and broader through the chest. He clearly didn’t see Jon as a physical threat.

“That’s alright. Caught me off guard is all. So, how long have you known Sansa, Jon?” he asked with a leer her way.

Harry’s eyes took her in again and this time they traveled slowly up and down her body, a possessive look, an ‘I’ve-had-her’ sort of look. She wondered if he might whip out his dick and piss on her next to stake his claim in front of Jon. His friends stood there watching raptly.

Harry, you are an idiot…and you might be a dead idiot if you don’t stop.

Sansa saw Jon’s nostrils start to flare and noticed that he had clenched his fists now. But more disturbing by far was the flash of red that came into his eyes.

“We should probably…” she began.

“I met her on Halloween,” Jon said smoothly, “but it feels like much longer than that, doesn’t it, love?”

“Yeah. It’s as though we’ve known each other for ages and ages,” Sansa said with a grin, coaxing a smile out of him. Harry looked nonplussed at her words. She watched the tension drain from Jon’s shoulders. “So, we’ll see you around, Harry,” she said dismissively as she wrapped herself around Jon.

She felt triumphant in the way his arm looped around her waist. Her fingernails skittered across his chest and one side of him mouth drew up in an lovely, sex grin when she raked his nipple through his shirt. He leaned in to nip at her neck before giving Harry a cheeky grin as farewell.

“Sure, Sansa,” Harry said. “Maybe we’ll have a class or two together,” he called before he said something else to his friends…something that was too quiet for her to hear.

His friends heard it though and laughed loudly and rudely. Of course, Jon heard it plain as day and before Sansa knew it, his arms were no longer holding her. He was striding away towards Harry.

“Jon!” she shouted.

However…and much to Sansa’s surprised…there was no bloodbath at the cineplex tonight and Jon was soon rejoining her with a smile.

“What did you do?!” she asked as she observed Harry’s face drained of all color and the way he stood there shaking.  His friends looked equally shaken.

“Nothing.”

“Jon Snow…”

“I simply encouraged him to mind his manners and show my young lady some respect.”

“Jon…”

“Shall we continue our evening?” he asked. “Bowling or mini-golf? Or we could grab a bite.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and said, “Gods…let’s go eat.”

“I wanted to kill him,” he said huskily as she sucked on his neck. “Oh, fuck…right there, my lovely. That…”

“That feels good?” she asked before she bit down on his pulse point…if he’d had a pulse. He moaned in agreement as she helped him out of his belt and pants. His cock was already hard when she shoved his boxer briefs to the floor. “But you didn’t kill him,” she said as she went to her knees. “You were my good little vampire, weren’t you?”

“I was…I was good for you. I was,” he babbled, his hands carding through her hair as she started sucking his cock. “Sansa…you’re killing me, my lovely. I want to fuck your cunt, not your mouth. I’m already so close,” he begged.

“Mmmmm…” she hummed around him and she saw his eyes roll back in his head.

“Unnn…Sansa. I might…I still might have him for a meal,” he said with a wicked glint in his eye while looking back down at her.

She glared at him, knowing he’d said it to make her stop sucking. No matter…they’d both find their peak this way.

“I know you might want to do that because of the beast that lives inside,” she said before she gave him a bruising kiss. Bruising for her more than him but it didn’t matter. Jon’s firm, full lips against her own made her dizzy and wet and she only wanted more of him. “But no matter what the beast wants,” she continued as she started nipping at his lips with her teeth drawing pitiful whines of lust from him, “you’re my Jon. You’re good…my very good boyfriend. The monsters don’t always win. Not here, not now. You wanted to kill Harry for having those nasty thoughts about me…”

“And saying that disgusting shit to his friends,” Jon panted. She could feel a bit of wet from the tip of his dick that was pressed into her bare stomach. “I could’ve killed them all just for that.”

“But you didn’t, Jon. You didn’t and I’m proud of you for that,” she said as removed her panties, the only thing she’d still been wearing.

“Gods, Sansa. Can I just keep you here naked all the time?” he asked as he stared and started playing with her tits.

“No,” she said coyly. “I have school and you probably have…vampire-y things to do.”

“I’ve had an eternity to do my vampire-y things. Vampire-y things suck.”

“Ha. Ha. Bad pun.”

“Gods, it was,” he laughed before capturing her mouth again. His kisses were sweeter, more careful than her own had been. He never wanted to hurt her. “It drove me mad, love. Hearing all his lecherous thoughts as he replayed memories of having you in his head.”

“He was never much of a boyfriend. He certainly lacked any skill in bed…not that we ever made it to a bed. He dumped me a few weeks after I gave it up. There were rumors he had other girls on the side while we were dating. I don’t know if it was true but I know he wasn’t alone for long after he dumped me.”

“An utter fool. And I hate him for it.” His eyes darkened and she saw a brief flash of red again. My sweet monster. She did not fear him. He would never hurt her…not intentionally. “Get on the bed, my lovely. I need you,” he growled.

Sansa climbed onto the bed on all fours. She tucked a pillow under her breasts and looked over her shoulder at him as she shimmed her ass. She knew he’d want her this way now. The beast always liked it. She did, too.

“I need to banish the thoughts of Harry Hardyng fucking you in the back of his mother’s old station wagon out of my head or I swear I may go hunt him down tonight,” he rumbled in her ear as he entered her in one swift thrust. “I wanted to scream at him that he didn’t get to fuck you again, not ever again because you’re mine.”

“Jon?” she panted as he started ease in and out slowly. Too slow. She wanted it faster…harder. Perhaps there was a beast inside her, too.

“Yes?”

“Stop thinking about Harry and fuck me, baby.”

“Yes, love…yes,” he said as his hips moved with lightning quick thrusts.

Sansa grasped the pillow that her face was buried in to stifle her grunts and he took her hard and fast like she wanted. One hand slipped from her hip to play with her clit. Sansa screamed his name when she came before he roared his release and collapsed on top of her. He immediately rolled to his back and pulled her into his chest.

“So, movie date was a success?” he asked after they’d laid together for a few minutes. “Yes,” she laughed, curling up against him now and lacing their fingers together. “Check that off your list and consider me properly wooed.”  She snuggled up closer and closed her eyes to sleep.

~~~~~~~

The wolves had returned to Winterfell and House Bolton had been extinguished. There was a King in the North once more…and Sansa Stark had gone to her half-brother’s bed in the long, dark night seeking the comfort that she only found in his arms.

“Sansa,” he said miserably. “We have to stop doing this. You deserve happiness and to find love where you…”

“Please, not this again. I told you, Jon...I love you. You are all I want.”

“I could never be what you want. If anyone found out…You deserve a man that you don't have to be ashamed of...one that will write you poems and bring you flowers and...court you properly.”

“Jon Snow…after all I have survived, you think it’s poetry and flowers that I want? After Joffrey and Ramsey and Littlefinger, do you still imagine I’m that little girl that left Winterfell years ago?”

“No…I know you’re not but…”

She cut him off with a kiss not wishing to hear any more protests from his lips this night. “Brave and gentle and strong. That’s what I want. I want what Father promised me. I want you, right or wrong.”

~~~~~~~

The situation was precarious. Many of the lords wanted him gone. They felt he was some imposter now, not allowing for the fact that he’d been as unaware of the truth as all of them.

Sansa was clever. She’d learnt her lessons…so many of them hard lessons…and she’d learnt them well. It was her suggestion. He’d been her lover. Why shouldn’t he agree to this? But he was resistant.

“Why are you arguing? Do you not want this, Jon? Do you not want me?” she asked as her chin quivered. I will not cry. “Would you prefer to…seek to another alliance…with another woman?”

“It’s not that, Sansa,” he replied. “You know how I feel for you! I just can’t stand the thought of forcing you into another marriage solely for my benefit. I couldn’t bear for you to come to hate me.”

“Look at me,” she commanded. Jon raised his eyes to her at last. “I would never hate you. You’re not forcing me into anything. I suggested the match.”

“You shouldn’t have to…”

“When I was a girl,” she plowed on ignoring his feeble argument, “I dreamt of a prince with golden hair and courtly, fawning ways. I dreamt of a chivalrous knight who would recite poetry and bring me flowers. I imagined finding my perfect prince or knight at a feast or tourney. I dreamt of giving him sons so that he would love me. Those were the dreams of a little girl, Jon.”

“And now you’re stuck marrying a bastard. The son of an enemy of your house and…”

“I would be marrying my beloved cousin who is a king. A man with hair as black as pitch and a handsome face with the plain and honest ways of a Northman, for he is of the North the same as my kin. I pray to give him sons and daughters…but know that he will love me for the rest of my days even if my womb fails to yield any fruit.”

He embraced her then as though he never meant to let her go. She heard his shuddering breath as he spoke with all the emotion that he felt. “I want to make you happy, Sansa. I want to be a good husband to you and bring you joy.”

“You will, Jon. I just know it.”

“Even if I never compose a poem or…”

“Bring me flowers every once in a great while when the seasons allow it,” she said teasingly.

“Aye…I could bring your flowers, my sweet girl.”

“Then, that shall be enough for me, my love. Let me lie in your arms each night when we are home together. Chase away my nightmares. That’s all I ask of you.”

~~~~~~~~

Sansa woke from the dream, the memory, and felt a crushing sense of melancholy. We were so happy.

She turned in the bed to face him. She stroked his cheek and his eyes opened at once.

“Are you alright, my lovely?” he asked, already sensing her despair.

“I am. I will be,” she corrected. She pressed a kiss to his brow and whispered, “You’re a good boyfriend, Jon Snow. You were a good husband for the time that we had.”

“I’d like to be your husband again someday,” he said wistfully.

“Perhaps,” she said with a bittersweet pang.

His eyes clouded with tears and he whispered, “You deserve to be happy, Sansa. If anyone ever deserved their happily ever after, it’s you.”

“Perhaps,” she repeated and closed her eyes to trap her own tears on her lashes.

Chapter Text

“I love you too much to condemn you.”
Dracula- ‘Bram Stoker’s Dracula’

‘If Aragorn survives this war, you will still be parted. If Sauron is defeated and Aragorn made king and all that you hope for comes true you will still have to taste the bitterness of mortality. Whether by the sword or the slow decay of time, Aragorn will die. And there will be no comfort for you, no comfort to ease the pain of his passing.’
Elrond- ‘The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers’

“…there’s never a wish better than this,
when you’ve only got a hundred years to live.”
Lyrics from ‘100 Years’ by Five for Fighting

This Wall Between Us

“I’ll wait for you,” she’d said softly with heartbreaking resignation the morning he’d left Winterfell for the last time. There were tears in her eyes that morning and she’d already been round with his child. “I’ll wait for you forever.”

It wasn’t supposed to be her. I thought it would be me. It should’ve been me.

The fire burned within his large tent. The table was overturned with his initial outburst. His hands shook with rage and grief. Two men shared the room with him. He wanted to be alone.

And Jon saw nothing but her face swimming before his eyes as he glanced at the scrap of parchment he’d been handed a moment ago…before his world had ended.

The humming of voices, apologies and condolences that he did not wish to hear echoed in his head.

On the floor of the tent lay the two spilled tankards of ale, the bread and cheese he’d been sharing with his guest as they’d drank and japed and attempted to make the most of a dreary night in camp.

They had gained some ground at last. There were hopes that he might face the Night King before long and perhaps cast him down at last.

Those hopes were meaningless now. The thrumming of his blood, the pounding in his ears, the sobs building in his chest…those were all that mattered. He could not hold on much longer.

Ghost laid near the fire licking his wounds. A rough day for his old friend. The wounds might fester, Jon knew.

But tonight, he envied his wolf. If only Jon’s wounds were so easy to reach. If only his tongue could lap away the rot and make things whole again.

It cannot be true.

Like a buzzing insect, there was Varys to whisper the words in his ear as Tyrion stayed back, looking uncertain…looking wary.

“Believe me, Your Grace...I am heartbroken to share this news,” the Spider’s silky voice said, slithering through his ears and coiling around his heart like amber that would solidify and stop it from beating at long last. “Our queen is so saddened by your loss…but she thought it best you knew right away.”

“Daenerys said for you to come and share this? Now?” Tyrion questioned.

“When else would I tell him?” Varys replied.

“What proof is there? Could there not be a mistake?” Tyrion asked more sharply. “Winterfell is not so far away. I could take a horse and a couple of men and…”

“There’s no mistaking this grievous news, my lord,” Varys said. “It is…”

“GET OUT!” Jon roared as his heart splintered within his chest at last.

Ghost raised his head and howled. Jon could swear he felt his wolf’s anguished howl coursing through his blood.

“Jon…I’m deeply sorry for this news but perhaps there’s been a…”

“GET OUT!” he screamed again. “LEAVE ME! NOW!”

He could not listen to Tyrion and his talking now.

She was dead. The babe was dead. There was nothing left for him here, nothing left to fight for.

That’s not true, Jon, a voice said in his head…his Father’s voice perhaps…the only father he’d ever known. There are the others to think of. Think of Arya. Think of Bran. The Night King still needs to be defeated or everyone that breathes today will swell the ranks of his army on the morrow. You can still face him.

Aye…I can. And then, I’ll rest with my sweet girl.

A wall stood between them now. More insurmountable than that 700-foot-high monstrosity made of ice had ever been. Death. She was on one side and he was on the other. He longed to knock it down and close the distance between them for all eternity.

It was then that he allowed himself to weep. He collapsed on his pallet and wept for his wife and their babe and all the things that would never be.

“You will find little joy in your command, Jon Snow,” Maester Aemon had said once. How right he had been.

When he had cried his heart out, he passed out in exhaustion…but not before his eyes rolled back in his head.

He smelled the campfires and bodies of men more strongly. And the bodies that were being burned…he smelled them, too.

He listened to the horses whickering. He heard the roar of the great beast nearby that shot flames from its mouth. Rhaegal.

He heard raised voices from the larger pavilion and padded closer. He stayed at the door and watched. He could not enter. None of them were his kind.

“Unconfirmed reports?! And you send Varys…are you mad?!” the small man shouted.

“Do not use that tone with me,” the dragon woman said. “It was his right to know.”

“He could be facing the Night King as soon as tomorrow. And you share this…this news now? If we’re to win…”

“We are winning,” the man that smelled strange said. Cloying and flowery was his scent. He did not care for it. “If Jon Snow defeats the Night King in battle, it’s likely the rest of the wights will be finished. And Her Grace will defeat the rest of Cersei’s army as soon as this war is done and sit upon the Iron Throne at last.”

“You seem to be forgetting her nephew has a claim to that throne.”

“We’ve not forgotten it at all,” the woman said. “But my poor nephew grieves most pitifully now. We must leave him be so he may grieve in peace. I fear for him, my lord. He was so attached to his bride and the promise of the babe. Who is to say if he’ll survive the final battle after all he has endured?”

~~~~~~~~

Jon woke with Sansa by his side. His head hurt…his back ached.

Her pain.  You will feel her pain.

He thought on the memory that he’d dreamed. Something about it gnawed at him. Some of the thoughts were strangely disjointed, as though he didn’t have his full wits about him when he’d been observing them. It was as if he’d been asked to work a puzzle and nearly completed it only to find a piece or two were missing. It was frustrating beyond belief.

He started to rouse Sansa and tell her of the dream. But after last night, he decided to let her rest.

He crept from the bed and took Ghost for a walk. Ghost barked and yipped and growled at his side as they walked into the woods that surrounded his home. He saw a fox and thought to have her for a meal but then he heard the mewling of her kits in their nearby den. He would not kill the mother fox. If he did, he may as well kill her little ones, too. And this morning, he did not have it in him, vampire or not.

It was not like he was famished. He had fed last night…on her again. He hadn’t meant to…and that was what bothered him most this morning.

When he entered the kitchen with Ghost a short time later, she was bustling about preparing herself a meal. She donned a floral skirt and flats to go with her light green sweater and scarf.

The scarf. Happy, beast?

No. Gods, no. I never meant to.

You never do.

He wanted to help her make breakfast. He wanted to hold her. But there was a distance between them this morning, one that he wasn’t certain how to breach.

A wall between us that neither knows how to climb or breach, a glass wall. I see you and you see me but we’re on the opposite sides.

Sansa was silent, still frustrated. The sex had helped and brought back some of the closeness and intimacy…but it had not healed all the conflict. They would have to talk about it again. They’d likely fight about it again.

But for now, she had class. And he had plans of his own today.

Two hours later, Jon sat inside his former home surrounded by what remained of his little coven. It was high time he confessed his sins, he thought.

Forgive me my trespasses, ye gods.

There is no forgiveness for soulless beasts. Seek the forgiveness of the damned if it pleases you. There are no gods that will listen to your pleas.

Such a killjoy and broody fuck, you are.

Melisandre wore her red gown as always and gazed at the fireplace. She appeared uncomfortable in his presence now. He supposed he could not blame her for that.

“What do you look for in there, Priestess?” he asked affably to cut the strange undercurrent of tension that existed between the four of them now. The tension is of your making, Jon. “The future?”

“The future, the present…the past,” Melisandre said. She rose from her knees and walked over to him. “We’ve missed you, dear Jon,” she said soothingly. But he did not miss the way her hand subconsciously fluttered to her neck, recalling Jon’s threats from months ago most certainly. She looked down at the ball of white fluff at his feet. “When you said you were bringing company, we’d assumed you meant Sansa.”

He’d brought Ghost along with him. The pup had grown a good deal but he was still a pup. He gruffed and growled and worried at one of Theon’s boots. Jon looked down at him indulgently as he felt their eyes upon him.

Dogs. His kind were not fond of them.

You’re not here to show off your pet, he reminded himself.

“She’s in class,” he said and concentrated on keeping his mind locked up tight. He didn’t want Jaqen to know that they’d been fighting or what they fought about.

Theon was troubled but silent. It didn’t matter. Jon could read his thoughts. He was angry and confused but not necessarily at Jon. He’d loved her in his way, Jon knew. He had loathed her at times but grieved for her all the same. Jon could not condemn him for that.

Jaqen said little. He let Melisandre ask the questions. But his eyes were on Jon all the while. He meditated in his chair and smiled to himself. Jon hated how smugly he sat there and doubted he would manage to keep a single thought of his private today.

“How did you do it?” Melisandre asked.

“Weirwood stake to the heart,” he said, feeling strangely better to get this out.

“That’s it?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. She knew that was not all.

“And…well, I thought death would be instantaneous,” he said giving Jaqen a sharp look. “It wasn’t. So, I beheaded her.”

“With the Stark’s sword?”

“It…it had to be Valyrian steel. No other blade is sharp enough.”

“A stake through the heart and then you beheaded her. And…”

“I burned her.”

Melisandre’s red eyes glowed then, a strange and rapturous look upon her face. How she’d loved giving her lord a sacrifice once upon a time, he knew. He remembered that queer look, a combination of piety and sexuality as her offering burned. Perhaps she’d never forgotten the ecstasy she’d once felt when the flames would start licking at the stake and the shrieks and screams began in earnest.

“She was already dead then,” he clarified.

“Oh,” she said…as though it were a pity.

He’d wanted Myranda to suffer and yet…perhaps he was not quite the monster that he thought he was. He thought of the fox and her litter this morning. No, he was not. He’d given Myranda a quicker death, a less painful one than what Melisandre had once condoned, endorsed…and ordered.

“You told them what you are,” Jaqen said, speaking at last with just a hint of rebuke in his tone.

“I did. I returned the sword. They were waiting. Sansa, Robb and Bran.”

“And the other two?”

“I’ve not told them yet but I may.”

“And then what, Jon?” Jaqen asked.

“I…Sansa and I hope to live in peace and…”

“Until the day she dies?”

Jon grimaced at Jaqen’s bluntness. Sansa would’ve been pleased to know he was on her side. That’s why he had no plans to bring her around again. They’d give her ideas. She already had enough ideas.

She wanted forever with him. But she also wanted her family…and children of her own. And her soul was pure, unblemished and true.

It’s not a fucking fairy tale. You cannot have it all with me. 

She wouldn’t listen.

“Offspring of our kind are…unwanted,” Jaqen said, reading his thoughts.

“I know.”

“And accursed by the gods.”

“I know.”

“We’re not supposed to share our secrets with mortals.”

“I know,” he sighed, becoming irritated at last.

The two vampires regarded each other closely. A freaky, staring contest, Sansa had once considered it as they attempted to read the others’ thoughts. Both attempted to pry into the other’s mind while shielding their own.

Melisandre drifted back to her flames. Theon sat quietly. Tears streaked down his face.

“The younger brother…the middle one…Brandon Stark,” Jaqen said after a time.

“Yes? What of him?”

“I should like to meet him.”

“Why?”

“Just…curious,” Jaqen said.

“The raven,” Melisandre whispered and Theon buried his head in his hands with a groan.

Jon looked between the three of them. “What the fuck does…”

“‘The crow is his link between the land of the living and the realm of the dead,’” Jaqen quoted. “An interesting film. I did not understand it all. Neither did my mate,” he said with a nod at Melisandre. “But perhaps Brandon Stark could tell us.”

Jon felt a jolt of fear chase down his spine and circle his heart and wondered when he’d wandered into an Alfred Hitchcock film.

Sansa absent-mindedly doodled in her notebook. She was supposed to be taking notes in her Literature class but she could not ignore the whispers of the three students behind her.

“And they said his body was all decayed. The animals and maggots and…” a boy was saying.

“Oh, gross!” a girl tittered as though she were partly amused and partly disgusted.

“His neck was broken though. The police were sure of that much. Definitely foul play,” the same boy said with a gleam in his eye.

He was one of Joffrey’s frat brothers, one of the guys that had drunkenly pawed at her at the house that night last year leading her to break up with Joffrey at last. He was quite entertained by the macabre fate of his so-called brother.

You’re the animal, she thought angrily.

She had not liked him. She was not sorry he was dead but he was still a person…or had been.

Joffrey’s body had been found at last, miles away in the woods. Five months after he’d disappeared on Halloween, his remains had been positively identified but only thanks to dental records. Jon’s kill.

Two hiker’s bodies had been found as well, a few days earlier, also miles away in the woods, in a cave. Their deaths were far more recent though their bodies had suffered from exposure, animals and insects as well. Myranda’s kills.

There was talk of a serial killer all through town now.

Miles from Joffrey but still…

“They say his mother is mad with grief,” the girl said sadly.

“I heard she’s offering an enormous reward for any information that leads to an arrest,” the third whisperer added.

She can throw all the golden dragons around that she wants. They’ll never tie anything to Jon, Sansa told herself uneasily.

And you’re completely okay with that? her conscience asked.

“I am,” she breathed aloud.

“Miss Stark?” Professor Luwin prompted from the whiteboard where he’d been scribbling notes the past ten minutes. “Would you care to share your thoughts on the symbolism of the Woods Witch’s prophecy as applied to the story of the Mad Queen?”

“Um…of course, Professor,” Sansa said and returned her focus to where it belonged.

Thirty minutes later she left class to find Jon sitting on a bench outside with Ghost by his side. It still was chilly out but Spring was approaching. She tugged at her coat and self-consciously adjusted her scarf around her neck to hide the latest marks.

And what will you do once it’s too warm for scarves?

Joffrey’s frat brother from class leered at her as he passed her on the sidewalk. She stiffened at the way Jon glared at him.

Be good, my monster, she thought and was glad he smiled briefly at her then.

He stood as she approached, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking guilty after last night. Sansa stooped to pet Ghost and then kissed Jon on the cheek. She took his arm and pulled him towards his car. She suggested a drive. They needed to talk.

They’d fought last night, loudly and passionately. And once they’d finished shouting and merely stood face to face breathing heavily (at least in Sansa’s case) and staring at each other’s mouths, another sort of rage and passion had erupted, as violent and consuming as any volcano.

She’d carry the marks of it for days and she did not mind that one bit. But Jon was riddled with guilt as always.

Round and round we go.

She pretended the memories weren’t there racing through her mind as she looked at him. She stared at her handsome lover, his curls soft and begging to be touched, his lips full and begging to be kissed, his strong, hard body begging to be worshiped.

She told herself nothing unusual had happened last night. As though he’d not pushed her against the wall a bit too zealously in his eagerness to get inside her that her head had received a hard thwack, hard enough to make her see stars. As though he’d not fucked her so hard against the wall of their bedroom that her back was now one large bruise. As though he’d not drank from her again.

The difference last night had been the anger though. He’d still been angry when he bit her and she’d cried out in pain. His eyes had gone wide with terror then. The pain had been fleeting. She’d done far worse to herself over the years by accident. But this had been no accident.

He’d applied gentle pressure to her neck, apologizing and pleading with her to forgive him. He’d pulled her up close as though she’d needed comfort. But it was him that was shaking.

“Too easy,” he’d said miserably. “How easy it would be for me to slip in a moment of madness and kill you. This is why I mustn’t get used to having your blood. It’s why I must stay away from you when I am wroth.”

“This is exactly why you should change me,” she’d argued. “Then, we wouldn’t need to worry about…”

“Never!” he’d bellowed and carried her to the bed.

“It makes sense, Jon,” she’d said, rising to her knees and caressing his face, determined to win him over one way or another.

She’d started kissing him then, deeply, lovingly…full of need and longing. And he was weak for her, she knew. He would not tell her no indefinitely. She hoped he wouldn’t.

“Would that be so terrible?” she’d asked. “Us…together…forever…” she breathed across his cheek and felt him shiver at her touch. So close to surrender.

Triumph blazed in her breast…and that was her mistake. He knew of course. He could read her mind.

He backed away from her and shook his head vehemently.

“Roll over,” he’d growled then, reaching for a condom on the nightstand. “I’ll hear no more of this,” he’d said with his hand already at her hip, turning her so he could fuck her from behind, so he could silence her arguments with her face buried in the mattress while he made her moan and scream beneath him.

She wanted that. Gods, she wanted him so badly no matter how angry she was.

“Fuck you, Jon! It’s my life!” she’d screamed. They’d stared at one another again, both fierce and stubborn. Sansa had backed down first…this time at least. “You’ll hear more about this later, Jon Snow. But I’m tired of fighting for now…get on your back. I’m riding you.”

The last of the anger had bled off then and he’d chuckled. “Yes, my lovely. Tell me what to do tonight.”

“Change me,” she’d whispered again later, kissing him tenderly after they’d both came. She was still straddling him and had looked up to find his eyes aswim with tears.

“No,” he’d croaked in response. Slowly and methodically, he’d given her his answer yet again. “I love you too much to condemn you.”

The night replayed in her mind and Jon walked by her side tortured by her memories. Ghost trotted along on his leash unaware of their disharmony.

“I love you,” she murmured as they arrived at his car.

“I know,” he said as he opened the door for her and Ghost to climb in.

Beside the lake they sat on a large flannel blanket he’d taken to keeping in his trunk. After he’d fucked her up against a tree once in a park, Sansa had primly suggested he keep a blanket in the car.

“For picnics and random fucks,” she’d joked.

He wanted to fuck her now, slow and sweet…but there was talking to be done.

He looked around at where he’d driven them to. He’d brought three bodies here…the night Sansa learned the truth. Perhaps it’d be best not to mention that just now.

“Jaqen wants to meet Bran?” she asked.

“Yes. I’m not certain why. He quoted that same bit from ‘The Crow’ to me though.”

“Perhaps it would be alright for them to meet.”

She was planning, getting those ideas again. He could read her well.

“Sansa…I’m not sure I…”

“Please, Jon?”

“We’ll…I’ll think on it, alright?”

She seemed to accept that answer but he knew the wheels were already turning, wondering if Jaqen would agree with her…if Bran would. Jon rather doubted that. She’d get her way if she won her family over though, he knew. He had trouble telling her no…and that was quite troubling.

“And your memory…” she prompted.

“Yes, what do you think of it?”

“I think that this Queen Daenerys and the Spiderman might have been conspiring. I think they may have been the ones to lie to you about our baby.”

“But why, do you think?”

“It seems clear that you were a threat to her plans to become queen of the iron chair.”

“Throne,” he corrected.

“Whatever. It sounds like she was no friend of yours.”

“But, she was my aunt.”

“The desire for power makes people do all manner of terrible things,” she shrugged.

It was true. He knew it well…but sharing it with Sansa seemed to clarify it in a way that his dream earlier had not.

Water fowl landed on the water in front of them. The sun tried to peep out from the clouds but it was still quite overcast, the way he preferred the day. Sunshine would make him weaker. He was weak enough sitting beside her.

He pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head. They watched Ghost worry over a stick. It was peaceful here on the bank of the lake. A proper romantic getaway, he decided.

Until Sansa raised the argument from last night again…

“What will we do?” she asked after some debate but before it grew heated again. “How do we work past this?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I cannot see you in this life as an immortal. Do you not realize how pure and sweet your soul is? Can you not understand how it would torture me to blacken it?”

“I suppose I don’t understand. I want to be with you always. And apparently, you do not feel the same.”

“No, Sansa. You will be…we were together once before and perhaps there were other lives we shared that we are simply unaware of yet. And I told you that I will end myself when you die.”

“But we could be together for eternity this way. No waiting for the chance of maybe meeting again in another life. No question of who we are or what we might mean to each other.”

“No question of children in this life,” he said gently, looking into her blue eyes intently. He had her there.

“You said that you could…breed.”

“Yes, breed…like animals. Doesn’t that sound lovely?” he asked sarcastically. “Our kind…children are not wanted. Jaqen is very…woke as you might put it for a vampire,” he chuckled. His expression grew serious again, “Others are not. They would hunt our child. They would hunt us. Believe me…a vampire war is not something Winterfell is prepared for.”

“There’s already more talk of a serial killer,” she admitted. “You know they found Joffrey.”

“Yes. Does it bother you?”

“Not as much as it should perhaps.”

She sighed and urged him to lay his head in her lap. Ghost climbed over them both and found his spot on the blanket to nestle up and nap. She started playing lightly with his hair and Jon felt that sense of calm wash over him that only she seemed capable of bringing him. He inhaled her scent. Lavender and lemons and rain. Sansa…his beloved.

“So, what then?” she asked. “Do we go on like this? Me getting old and someday dying and you ending your existence when I do? Hoping that we meet again in the next millennia and have another chance at the happiness we were once denied?”

“I don’t know, my lovely,” he said reaching up to stroke her face. “I only know that I hate this cursed life and do not want it for you.”

“I know. I know you hate being what you are. But perhaps if I were one, too?”

“Then, I’d hate it more…knowing that I’d damned you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t want to risk your soul to find out.”

She smiled at him, a cheeky little smirk. “So, you’re planning on still fucking me when I’m 80? When you’re still gorgeous and powerful and I’m a weak little old lady with a dry, old cunt?”

“I’ll still fuck you when your 80 if you like. It’d make no difference to me. You’ll still be beautiful in my eyes. I’ll fuck you or I’ll hold your hand and sit by your side and read to you. I’ll wipe your ass or take you to the movies or bring you your favorite treats or…anything you like, anything at all.” She smiled softly at that and he took her hand his is. “But you are only 20 for today and 80 is so many years away. May I make love to you, my love?”

"It's cold out," she protested.

"Well, we have a blanket.  You need only lift your skirt and the cold does not bother me."

“But here...by this lake? Where anyone might see?” she asked with a grin.

“Yes,” he said huskily, already easing her back and lifting her skirt. “I’ve got good senses you know. I can hear or smell anyone approaching long before they reach us.” He fumbled with his jeans in his lust. “I can be quick if you prefer.”

“No. Go slow,” she breathed in his ear. “Go slow and let me savor you, Jon.”

He nodded and work his pants off before pulling out his cock and grabbing a condom from his wallet.

“Put your legs around me, love,” he said.

She did and he groaned as he sank into the bliss of Sansa’s sweet body. He inhaled her haunting scent and told himself to savor every moment that they had…even as he knew that neither a hundred years nor a thousand could ever be enough to sate him.

Chapter Text

‘It sounds plausible enough tonight, but wait until tomorrow. Wait for the common sense of the morning.’-H. G. Wells, The Time Machine

Vampire, Witches and Ravens (Oh, my!)

“Robb? I want to host a dinner at…at home,” Sansa said later that night over the phone.

She’d nearly said at Mom and Dad’s but it wasn’t Mom and Dad that lived there now. It was Robb, Arya, Bran and Rickon. It was theirs, she supposed.

“Host a dinner? For who?” Robb asked tiredly.

He was so tired all the time. Working and caring for their younger siblings and commuting back and forth left him worn thin. Jeyne was in Braavos again on business but Sansa knew they’d fought before she’d left. Robb had said he wasn’t certain when or if she would return.

And the boys were being very difficult lately. Rickon had a lot of anger he was dealing with after the loss of their parents and having a hard time accepting Robb as a father figure. So, his talking back, slipping grades and trouble at school were not entirely unexpected. They had found a good therapist for him at least. It seemed to be helping.

Bran, however…Bran was becoming distant at times and strange…or stranger, depending on your opinion of Bran. Twice, Robb had found him deep in the woods at the Heart Tree when he was supposed to be at school. He didn’t argue with Robb and he was apologetic but he would still drift off to visit the Weirwood far more often than he once did…and he was smoking more weed than ever.

He had always been a good student but he was failing ever class now. He didn’t seem to care. He said there was too much to take in right now to worry about Trig and the Literature.

And unfortunately, Aunt Lysa and her husband still thought they knew what was best for the younger Starks and that Robb was an unsuitable guardian for his two underage brothers. They’d called social services with their ‘concerns’ and Robb had endured a very grueling interview regarding his fitness to care for the boys. Robb had said he was just grateful that Bran wasn’t stoned when the Dustin woman had come to meet with the kids.

“For us and Jon…and his family,” Sansa answered.

“His family? What family?” Robb asked.

“The, um…people that he’s lived with…the past several years before he got his house.”

“And they’re like him?”

“Two of them are. One is…different.”

“Sansa,” Robb groaned. “I’m already having enough trouble dealing with the boys and accepting your relationship with him. And now you want me to host a bunch of…”

“Just two of them. And a woman.” A witch of sorts.

“Is Jon putting you up to this?”

“No. He objected but I pushed and…well, he gave in.” I used his guilt to get my way. Was the wretched of me? “I think it’d be good for us to…get to know everyone in a casual setting like this.”

“So they can decide to kill us if you and Jon break up?”

“They would never…and Jon and I aren’t going to break up!” she said heatedly. “We’re not just some random couple who started dating and he revealed his surprise party trick. We’re fated to be together and…”

“Gods, Sansa,” Robb said irritably. She knew he didn’t want to believe her about the reincarnation thing. “Enough of that.”

“Robb…please.”

“Fine. Fine. Invite the bloodsuckers over. Bran will be entertained. Arya and Rickon will be curious about what the fuck is going on. Do I have to cook?”

“No, I’ll handle everything.”

“When?”

“Next week. I’ll call back with a night. Thank you, Robb,” she said before she hung up.

She knew she needed to talk to Arya before the dinner. Rickon was still a child. He didn’t need to know but she didn’t feel right leaving Arya in the dark any longer. Whatever came of all this, Sansa knew she might need her sister’s support before the end.

Jon stood in the doorway of the kitchen watching Sansa whirl around like the Tasmanian Devil as she took the roast out of the oven to sit. She’d left it rather rare, thinking their guests would prefer it that way. Jon knew they wouldn’t care what was served. Melisandre ate very little. She might prefer it charred to a crisp. And, Jaqen and Theon would prefer blood to any roast beef no matter how rare it was. But the family had to eat as well.

“Stick it back in,” he said. “Your family will prefer it less bloody.”

Sansa ignored him and returned to the rice she was cooking on the stovetop, hurriedly stirring it before she dumped some rolls on a baking sheet to heat up. She’d preheated the baking sheet but in her rush, she forgot when she went to grab it.

“Careful!” he cautioned too late as she burned her fingers.

“Mother fucker!” she yelped and brought her fingertips up to her mouth. He gestured for her to let him see. She tried to hide her tears and turned away. “I still need to make the salad.”

“I’ll make the salad in a few minutes. Come here,” he said more firmly, guiding her to the sink and inspecting the delicate white skin that was already beginning to redden and blister.

He kissed her fingers softly and then kept hold of her hand as the cool water washed over the burns, listening to her heart beating and feeling her pulse through his fingertips. He inhaled her sweet scent. He could smell her shampoo, her soap and the lotion she liked. He could smell her body’s intoxicating fragrance, that alluring thing that had first ensnared him.

He leaned forward and kissed her lips once whilst gently rubbing his fingers along her pulse point. Immediately, he could smell her arousal and found her blue eyes watching his lips. He grinned at her and she ducked her head, trying to shove those feelings aside when there wasn’t time for that.

There’s always time for you and me and that. At least…I wish there was.

He pulled her into a hug, telling her he’d look forward to that later. She nodded into his shoulder. He listened to her racing thoughts.

“Why are you so nervous? And why did you want to do this if you’re so nervous?”

“You said Jaqen wants to meet Bran. Well…Bran has mentioned wanting to meet Jaqen.”

“Why? What does he know about him?”

“He just said Jaqen might give him some answers. He’s been very odd lately.”

“I know,” Jon sighed.

Bran’s thoughts had been a jumble the past few weeks when they saw one another. Like a hard drive trying to download too much information at once, all Jon could hear of Bran’s thoughts were disconnected images, many of which made no sense at all. Bran saw places he could never have seen in reality. It was like every movie ever made was racing through his brain…except these weren’t movies. That, Jon was sure of.

Robb entered the kitchen and saw them both standing at the sink with the water still running over their entwined hands.

“I burned myself,” Sansa said in a guilty tone to her brother. He didn’t do it, he could hear her thinking.

Robb didn’t look at him, only at his sister before he said he was going to take the dogs for a quick walk and left them both. But Jon could sense his anger. He hated what Jon was. He didn’t want him near his sister. Jon couldn’t blame him.

There were snowflakes melting in your hair, Jon thought sadly.

He’d dreamed of Robb last night. It had to have been a memory. Standing in the castle courtyard, telling one another good-bye. There’d been snowflakes melting in his hair.

He’d woke with a keening ache and had climbed carefully out of bed to avoid waking Sansa. For hours he was plagued by memories, memories of the boys they had been. Boys playing with wooden swords and laughing together. Brothers. Long he had sat alone downstairs remembering.

But the memory had faded into a dream. That was what had woken him, a dream…a dream that could never have been real.

~~~~~~~~

Jon shook the spring snow off his cloak as he walked along the hall, the flagstones ringing in the wake of his boots. He could hear their giggles as they waited to surprise him. He fought to keep his face serious, not wanting his grin to give away that he was aware of their presence.

“Oh, my…I’m so tired,” he announced to the supposedly empty room. “I think I shall sit here and take a nap.”

He sat in his seat, the high seat of the Lord of Winterfell. It still didn’t seem like it should be his. He stretched his legs out and let his chin sink to his chest and promptly pretended to snore.

“ARRRRR!” the little voices cried out from either side of him as they popped up from underneath the table.

He gasped and gave them a good yelp as though he’d been frightened half to death. He grabbed the pair of them in his arms and soon they were shrieking in delight. He pulled them both into his lap.

“Did we frighten you, Father?” Eddard asked from his knee.

“Aye, you did,” he laughed. “You’re the sneakiest little Starks I’ve ever seen. But don’t frighten the servants with your games. They’ve enough to do.”

“You’re not cross with us, are you, Uncle Jon?” Robb asked.

“No, Robb,” he said to his sister’s son. “I could never be cross with you.”

He ruffled both the boys’ hair affectionately and sent them on their way. Thick as thieves and always in one another’s pockets. Cousins that were like brothers.

Robb, he thought sadly as he watched the boys scamper off together. If we could’ve had another son, I would’ve named him Robb. She would’ve liked that.

~~~~~~~~

“Jon?” Sansa said, bringing him out of the dream once more. “Are you alright?”

He blinked rapidly and nodded. She had already turned off the tap and had wrapped a cloth around her burned fingers.

“Aye,” he said.

“Aye?” she repeated with a crinkled nose.

“Yes, my lovely.” Sansa looked at him more intently and he knew it would do no good to dwell on dreams. “Let me help you set the table and I’ll make the salad,” he said next just as the doorbell rang.

Sansa wiped off her hands and patted nervously at her hair. Bran beat them to the door and Jon heard him greeting the guests just as he and Sansa rounded the corner.

“Wow! Look at your clothes! It’s like having the Addams Family over!”

Melisandre was in her long red robes and cape. Jaqen wore his cravat and tails. They both nodded politely and Theon, who was dressed like anyone else you might pass on the street, scowled at the boy.

Jon scrubbed his hands over his face and wondered again why he’d allowed her to talk him into this.

Because you’d do anything she wants, you fool.

Not anything.

No…not that.

“Melisandre, welcome,” Jon said as she swept through the doorway, her red skirts swirling around her legs as the ruby at her throat flashed and glowed.

“Holy Cannoli…your eyes really are red,” Bran said next in wonder. “That’s…well, that’s interesting.”

Jon bit his lip and attempted not to laugh as Sansa hissed at Bran for being rude.

The other two stood outside. Again, Jon wondered if this wouldn’t have been better to host at his house. But the kids had school the next day and he supposed it was better to let them be at home. Perhaps they’d be more comfortable that way and Rickon could be sent to bed before the talk turned more serious.

Theon and Jaqen waited on the doorstep still.

“You must invite them in, Bran,” Jon prompted. “They cannot enter otherwise.”

“For real?!” Jon nodded and Bran, not to let the opportunity for a little drama pass him by, quoted Dracula with the perfect accent and intonation. “‘Velcome to my home. Enter freely of your own will and leave some of the happiness you bring.’”

“Gods, Brandon,” Sansa sighed.

Jaqen smiled though and held out his hand. “Hello, Brandon Stark. It’s nice to meet you at last.”

Bran shook his hand and said, “Your hand is cold.”

Melisandre smiled enigmatically at her lover and the three of them moved away towards the Starks’ large living room.

Theon stood in the doorway, looking uncertainly between Jon and Sansa. The last time Sansa had seen him, she’d had a very unpleasant memory of the past…and Jon had attacked him.

“Theon,” Sansa said warmly as she took his hand. “It’s very nice to see you again.”

A smile lit Theon’s face then, one that Jon didn’t recall seeing upon it before…not in a long time anyway.

“Thank you, Sansa,” he said. “I’m…I’m happy to see you again…and meet your family.”

Jon bristled at the way Sansa looped her arm through Theon’s as they headed off after Bran, Jaqen and Melisandre. A low rumbling growl started in his throat. Theon heard it of course…and smirked at him.

Robb came in behind them with Lady and Shaggy from their walk. Lady whimpered and Shaggy barked at Theon. Robb bellowed at them both until silence fell and he apologized for the dogs.

“It’s alright. They don’t like our kind. Robb…allow me to introduce Theon Greyjoy,” Jon said uneasily as he recalled some of those moments from their boyhood. “Theon…this is Robb.”

You grew up amongst us from the age of nine. You called him your brother. You called him your king. And you betrayed him.

But he wasn’t that Theon. That Theon died and was born again and again before he was reborn to this life. And Robb has no memory of any of it.

“It’s, uh…nice to meet you,” Robb said hesitantly. He held out his hand and then nearly started to withdraw it until Theon clasped it with his own and thanked him for inviting them. “That was…this was Sansa’s idea,” Robb said. But he wore a smile at least as he looked at his sister. “How long have you…known Jon.”

“Six hundred years…give or take,” Theon said with a smile. “And I assure you he’s always been this broody and boring.”

Robb’s lips twitched into a smile before he ushered the dogs off to another room.

“Broody and boring?” Jon asked.

“Always,” Theon laughed before allowing Sansa to lead him away.

Gods, help me through this night.

Dinner was…well, it was off to a rough start.

Sansa reached for Jon’s hand under the table, seeking it to gain some reassurance. He squeezed it quickly but released it when Robb passed him the rice and started carving the roast. It was perhaps a bit bloody and Sansa though maybe she should’ve listened to Jon earlier.

“I can’t eat this shit,” Rickon announced as Robb passed him a slice on his plate.

“Rickon!” Robb snarled. “Sansa made us a lovely dinner. There’s nothing…”

“It’s bloodier than a used tampon! I’m expecting it to moo at me.”

“Gross!” Arya snorted. “Um…” she said next with an apologetic glance at Sansa, “I’m sorry. I’ll just, uh…it’s fine, Rickon.”

Robb’s ears were turning red and Sansa knew her cheeks were as she looked at their guests. They seemed unperturbed though.

Rickon continued grumbling under his breath as he filled up on rice and salad.

Sansa already knew not to be offended by the way Jaqen and Theon pushed their food around the plate. Jon had said neither cared much for eating regular food. Melisandre ate at least…and stared a lot. Every person at the table found themselves the subject of her gaze at one point during the meal.

“What?” Arya said to her irritably at one point.

“Arya!” Robb and Sansa both scolded, not wishing for their company to find all of them completely lacking in manners.

Jaqen laughed under his breath and patted Melisandre’s hand. They leaned towards one another whispering and seemed to be speaking of her sister.

It’s rather rude to talk about someone else sitting right there at the table, Sansa thought.

Jon growled beside her in agreement.

“I beg your pardon,” Jaqen said to them all before turning his eyes on Arya. “You…remind me of someone I knew long ago.”

“Who?” Arya asked skeptically.

“Um…no one,” he said next, shaking his head and smiling to himself. “Have you ever studied about the ancient order of the Faceless Men of Braavos?”

“Just a bit in school,” Arya replied.

Theon had brought a small flask with him. His movements were so fast that Sansa barely noticed what he’d done but his white wine was suddenly red. Hopefully, the others wouldn’t notice. She heard Jon’s sharp inhale as he caught the whiff of blood no doubt. She wondered when he’d fed last.

“Yesterday,” he murmured.

“What?” Rickon asked from the other side of him.

“Nothing,” Jon replied.

Robb scowled at them all from the head of the table and methodically champed at his roll.

Once dinner was over, Robb and Arya both volunteered to clean the kitchen. Sansa didn’t have to read minds to know that they’d rather wash dishes than spend too much time with their guests.

It’s alright. This was for Bran.

Bran wanted to meet Jaqen. He wanted answers and he thought the older vampire might have them. The memories that had started returning to Jon and Sansa when they’d met…or met again…were affecting Bran more and more. But whereas, Jon and Sansa’s memories came unbidden and just occasionally, Bran complained he couldn’t escape them. They were constantly running through his mind. He confessed he feared he might be going mad.

Rickon headed upstairs under the pretense of doing some homework but more likely to play video games. Sansa followed him to ensure that he really did do his homework. She wanted to help her little brother…and keep the social services lady and Aunt Lysa and Petyr off Robb’s back.

Bran and Jon had already headed to the living room to speak with Jaqen, Melisandre and Theon when she came back downstairs. She popped into the kitchen to find Robb and Arya having a discussion of their own. Arya had taken her news about Jon rather well considering. She seemed genuinely attached to him regardless of what he was.

Just like before.

She’d dreamed of that the other night. A memory of a little girl with messy hair and scraped knees following their half-brother around. She recalled their quarrels, too. It pained her to remember the harsh words they’d spoken to each other before their father had been charged with treason.

When she entered the living room several minutes later, there appeared to be some sort of tense discussion going on. Jon was definitely on edge anyway. Theon stood alone in the corner, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as though he was ready to run out of the room. Melisandre stared at the empty fireplace.

“And you became a vampire then?” Bran was asking.

“No…not right away. A man had many skills before his death and rebirth. But even the skills of the Faceless Men couldn’t compare to the powers bestowed upon a vampire. I was unstoppable. An ideal killing machine, you could say. But then…I no longer wished to follow the instructions of…well, I decided it was time to move on.”

“My…gift…I suppose you could call it that is…difficult to adapt to,” Bran said solemnly. “I wish…I wish it hadn’t come to me but if I could help them, I would.”

“Yes, I know you would, Bran,” Jaqen said in his curious accent as his eyes turned towards Sansa. “How is the crow the link between the living and the dead?”

“The crow…the crow can fly anywhere he likes,” Bran said with that mysterious smile that left Sansa unsettled, the one that she’d first glimpsed on her birthday. “He can see anything and everything and…he remembers things he never knew. He can see a child being born this morning in Essos or he can watch an old man die ten thousand years ago before the Wall was built. What do you say to that, Priestess?” he asked Melisandre.

The Red Woman smiled back at Bran and said, “A gift. A very rare gift.”

“You have a few gifts of your own, my love,” Jaqen said to Melisandre.

“I do…but my glamours would only do so much good. Bran would have to take her there.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Jon said, speaking at last.

“It’s not impossible though,” Bran argued. “Right?”

“There are methods…it’s not unheard of,” Melisandre answered. “But is it what they both truly want?”

“What who wants? What are you talking about?” Sansa asked.

“The Many-Faced God would still require a life to replace the one he had claimed,” Jaqen interjected.

“But if we could…”

“The risk is too great,” Jon said with finality. “I don’t feel comfortable relying on Melisandre’s glamours and Bran’s nascent abilities. I am not worth her risking her life over,” he added with a nod at Sansa.

“What are you all saying?” Sansa said in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“We could change the past, Sansa,” Bran said excitedly. “I take you back and help you and Jon and we could…”

“Enough, Bran!” Jon roared then, startling them both. “This is not something…”

“What could we change?” Sansa asked. The others were silent and looked at Jon. He would need to be the one to tell her. She crossed the room to her lover and put her arms around his neck. “Please…what are you talking about? What are they saying? What could we change?”

“The past,” he muttered. “They’re suggesting there might be a way to…to make it so that we lived in our former life…or at least so that I was never changed. That I would remain Jon Snow in that life and…that we could possibly be reincarnated as mortals together.” He looked around at them all. “And there is absolutely no guarantee that I would come back to this time or that Sansa and I would find one another ever again.”

“But if…if you’d never been changed, you wouldn’t be…you’d be free of this life you hate,” she said softly.

“And what if the price of that freedom meant never being with you again?” he asked.

“You love me. You love me too much to make me what you are, you said. What of my love? What if I love you too much to keep you trapped in this existence?”

“Sansa…trying to return to the past…there are so many things that could go wrong. So many things that could be altered irrevocably.”

“How would it even be possible?” she asked her brother.

“Through me,” Bran said. “I could take you…with help.”

“And what would we do?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. The Heart Tree would take us to where we’re meant to go.”

Sansa’s mind was churning with the possibilities but nothing was certain and the thoughts of possibly losing Jon for good was too much.

“I…I don’t know,” she said at last.

“Perhaps you should think on it,” Jaqen said. “But consider this, if you return to the past and Jon Snow doesn’t die defeating the Night King or if he does die but he is not reborn to his current existence, that means that the Jon that stands before you now cannot exist.” Sansa opened her mouth but Jaqen had already anticipated her question. “Only death can pay for life.”

Chapter Text

“We belong in hell.”

“And what if there is no hell, or what if they don’t want us there? Ever think of that?”

But there was a hell, and no matter where we moved to, I was in it.

Louis and Lestat-Interview with a Vampire

‘They have stolen the heart from inside you,

But this does not define you,

This is not who you are,

You know who you are’

-Moana

Monster

“Fine! Don’t talk to me!” Jon roared as he shifted gears and let the Gran Turismo eat up the pavement on the drive back to his house after their dinner.

Sansa sat there stiffly, lips pressed firmly together with her head turned away as the anger rolled off her with every breath. She stared out the passenger window as he pressed down the pedal, his hands gripping the wheel tightly as his frustration and rage sang through him.

He wanted to dispute every thought that crossed her mind but he didn’t. He would allow her the peace of working through her arguments inside her own head for a few minutes anyway. Didn’t mean he had to like it any.

The rage festered. They were all completely mad. Sansa going back in time to save him? Bran taking her back in time through a tree? Melisandre having a role in any part of it? It sounded like lunacy at best and the makings of a catastrophic, potentially world-ending blunder at worst.

He took a curve too fast and heard her sharp inhale. He could smell her fear. A cold smile formed as the beast reveled in that power, the idea that he could make her cower. He pushed the pedal down farther.

Her fingers dug into the arm rest. She glanced his way, blue eyes wide with fright and uncertainty. Shame washed over him and he eased up on the gas.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, reaching blindly for her hand.

She said nothing but grasped his hand in return. ‘I’m not immortal like you. I’d rather not die in a car accident,’ she thought.

“I know…I’m sorry,” he said again. And then she was weeping because her parents had died in an auto accident, hadn’t they? And on this very stretch of road. “Fucking gods be damned!” he shouted and pulled over.

Sansa yelped and cringed, leaving him to apologize yet again.

Well, this is shaping up to be a lovely night. Remember how you wanted her tonight when you were in the kitchen at the Starks? I think you’ll be doing without tonight.

“Sansa…my lovely…I don’t mean to frighten you.” She huffed. “I don’t really want to frighten you.” He shifted to face her and framed her face with his hands. “Please, talk to me. Tell me what you want to say.”

“And you’ll listen?” she asked.

“I’ll listen…if you’ll listen to me in return.”

It was nearly an hour before he pulled back onto the road and drove them both home, neither any closer to an answer but having found harmony again in their confusion.

Sansa was fine with risking her own life but unwilling to accept the price that Jaqen spoke of, the sacrifice of him…her monster.

Jon was not willing to put her or Bran at risk for the sake of his soul. They were worth more than he ever would be.

She sank into a melancholy silence. And Jon allowed his own mind to wander, not conscious of her thoughts. He was lost in reveries of his own when she spoke again.

“I dreamt of him last night,” she said softly.

They were nearly home. “Who?” he asked, somewhat distracted by the flow of his own thoughts.

“He had your eyes.” Her voice was quiet…but raw with pain.

“Oh,” he said. He winced to feel her heart ache. He’d rather someone just gut him unexpectedly. But he’d marked her.

“I never held him…but I knew him in my dream.”

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. Their boy. He’d never known his parents. Just like me.

She shrugged at his apology. “You don’t believe it could work, do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“But if it could…”

“I…I don’t know,” he said. “If it could…if you could be saved and live to raise our son…”

She laughed softly, the saddest laugh he’d ever heard. “Oh, Jon. I don’t think I’m the one that needs saving. I think I’ll die in childbirth regardless of what we do. But if you could be saved…you could raise him. He’d have known his father. And you’d never be…”

“With you,” he croaked.

“What you are now, I was going to say,” she said sharply as she folded her arms across her chest.

He’d upset her again, just as things had been improving. He didn’t mean to.

You never do.

“Melisandre told me about you,” she said next, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Told you what?” he asked.

“How you were then. How you never liked being considered a hero even as you were playing the savior.”

“I never thought of myself that way,” he said, embarrassed at the suggestion.

He hadn’t thought that way. All that Jon Snow had ever thought about was trying to do what was best for whatever fight was worth fighting. There were others that were busy puffing themselves up, boasting of all the good they did. That was never him. He could take satisfaction in that at least.

Father never would’ve respected that.

“I know that’s not you. Melisandre knows it in a way but I think she’s misread you some…made you into something that suits her.”

He nodded. That was very much like Melisandre. Hadn’t she done that with another king?

“You understand me better than she ever could…even with her having spent a thousand years in my company, you still understand me better.”

“Because we’re bound to each other.”

“Bound? Like soul mates?” he chuckled.

“Something like that. We’re not the same, you and I. We might go about solving our problems in different ways. But in the end, we come from the same place. We cherish the same things. We want what’s best for each other and for those we care about.”

“You’re talking about that other guy...that other Jon Snow,” he said heavily. “The one that was something better than...”

“You’re still him,” she said as she laid a hand over his heart. “It’s still you in there.”

He frowned and squinted, hoping to chase emotion away. “We’re home.”

He pulled into the garage. They climbed out of the car and started into the house. Jon had nearly pressed the button to close the garage door when he froze. He sniffed the air and growled.

“What?!” Sansa asked in alarm, moving closer to him.

He sniffed again as he grew more certain. “Nothing. Just an unexpected guest.”

“Sorry,” Theon said from where he stood just outside the garage. Sansa screeched and grasped his arm. Jon patted her hand. He knew Theon meant no harm even if his manners needed some work. “I’m sorry,” Theon said again. “I’ve been waiting on your porch for a while. It’s a nice house from the looks of things outside.”

“Would you like to come in, Theon?” Sansa asked.

Theon smirked and Jon silently cursed. He wasn’t sure he wanted to invite Theon in but it was her house too now.

“Some other time maybe. I’d hoped to talk to Jon…outside.”

“Go on in, love,” Jon murmured in her ear. “This may be a bit.” He just had a feeling.

Sansa nodded, kissed his cheek and went inside. Jon turned to his unexpected guest and waited.

“Took you a while to get home,” Theon said. “Thought maybe you’d decided to either fuck her or kill her from the way you two were acting when you left. But she’s alive and it doesn’t smell like you had sex either.”

“What do you want, Theon?”

“I need to hunt.”

“Hunt what exactly?” he asked with a raised brow.

“Not a person. Just something warm blooded.”

“Lead the way.”

Theon had always been easy to read. And while he was clearly upset and wanted to talk, Jon knew it would be best to let him work his way up to it tonight.

He was different since Myranda’s death and tonight something else had shifted when he entered the Starks’ home. Jon wasn’t sure what but something had changed for Theon tonight.

He let Theon lead them deep into the woods. Theon caught the fox’s scent, the vixen with her litter.

“No,” he said. “Not her.”

Theon looked at him queerly and shrugged. He found a stag instead. “Wanna share?” he asked, his eyes red now in his bloodlust.

He started to refuse but the coppery tang of blood called to him. Theon was down on his knees beside the buck. Like an animal. But if he is an animal then so am I. It was still thrashing some. Jon sank to his knees and ended its misery.

“It’s better warm. It grows cold so soon,” Theon complained.

“Just like us.”

When they had finished their meal, Theon wiped at his face and grinned, his mouth still a garish red in the moonlight. A beast. He was no better. He would have to wash before he returned to her.

“The Starks…” Theon began uneasily at last. “I’m supposed to know them, aren’t I?”

“You lived with them just as I did in a former life. Did you see something, Theon? A vision or a dream?”

Theon shook his head and Jon was disappointed. He’d hoped maybe Theon could remember…and maybe help him with the choices that lay ahead. Theon at least understood what it was to be a monster. Not that it bothered him much.

“Robb…Bran and Rickon,” he said. “I’ve never felt so conflicted in the presence of mortals. There was guilt and a ridiculous longing to…belong when I entered their house. Does that make any sense?” Jon nodded but Theon was already speaking again. “I’d never thought much about the ones I’d choose when I would feed. I’ve never thought much about mortals and their feelings at all since I’ve been changed. I’ve made meals of them and took pleasure from some of them as well but none of it mattered really. So, why did I feel so aware of Robb Stark all night? Why was it so important to me that he like me? I’m not homosexual.”

“It wouldn’t matter to me if you were but I know you’ve always preferred women.”

“And the boys…I’m not a...”

“I know that.”

“Then, why was I so drawn to them?”

“Did Melisandre tell you what she knew of your former life? Your life as Ned Stark’s ward? Do you know about the things that Theon did?”

“No.”

“She is reluctant to share, I’ve found. She’s preferred keeping us in the fold…one happy little monstrous family. I will tell you what I have learned through my own memories and from what Bran has told me.”

Sansa sighed heavily and rolled to her side. It was past midnight and Jon had still not returned from his talk with Theon.

Margaery had texted earlier asking how she was. She’d failed to reply. She was pulling away from them, Marg and Asha. She didn’t know what to say to either of them anymore. She didn’t care about college parties or shopping or who was dating who anymore. She was doing her best to stay afloat in her classes as it was. Nothing seemed to matter to her but Jon and her family. She supposed that was not abnormal considering the loss of her parents. But part of her still needed her friends and wanted to rejoin the life she’d known…she just wasn’t sure how.

How do you go back to the life you knew before when everything has changed?

“Gods,” she grumbled and got out of bed.

She went downstairs and turned on the television. Perhaps a little mindless channel flipping would help. She doubted it.

What Bran and Jaqen and Melisandre suggested…it was tempting. The idea that she could change things, could change the past and save Jon from being turned…she wanted that. But not at the cost of losing him here and now.

Only death can pay for life.

“Winter and Weirwood,” Bran had whispered. “It would be easy. A moments determination and it would be done.”

Sansa had shivered violently at the suggestion. Jon had nodded to Bran. He was willing to let them destroy him readily enough. It was only the fear that something would go wrong and she or Bran or both of them would be in danger that held him back.

She starting to nod off at last when she stopped her channel surfing and landed on ‘The Fellowship of the Rings.’ She had always loved this scene.

“I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone,” Arwen said.

Is that us…or the opposite of us? Sansa thought just as sleep claimed her. But am I Aragorn and he Arwen? And if he chooses a mortal life, what will be the cost in the end?

~~~~~~

Garrett, the one-eyed warrior who had placed Widow’s Wail at her feet, had returned with the news that set the castle abuzz but it was Arya who came to her chambers.

The war was over. Daenerys was dead and the dead were defeated. And Jon had lost an eye.

He’d been unable to send anything more than a hasty scrawl but that was more than enough.

As long as I draw breath, I’ll always return to you.

The same words he’d sworn when he’d returned from Dragonstone…and made love to her beneath the Weirwood.

She returned her attention to the babe. He was nearly a moon old. His small head was turned in towards her breast as he sucked. She could hear the snuffling sound of him breathing through his nose. His eyes had drifted closed but his tiny jaws kept working, draining her milk. She loved it. Sometimes, there was a tightening low in her belly when he would suck. It was not altogether different from when Jon would be inside her and working her towards a peak. But it was different. This wasn’t sexual…just satisfying in another way.

She was warm in her bed with Eddard in her arms and the furs cocooning them from the harsh cold of winter. She stroked his fine, downy hair. His mouth pulled off her with a little plopping noise and he exhaled loudly. She giggled, lifting him to her shoulder and patting his back. He belched and she kissed his nose.

A noise outside the room had her quickly covering herself. The guard outside her door was speaking loudly. He sounded excited or agitated. She wondered what duties she would not be allowed to put off any longer.

But then the door opened and she nearly shrieked in delight. He’d come home.

He was filthy of course and she noted the patch across his eye. But nothing else mattered when he strode across the room looking at nothing but her. He cupped her cheek and it was not until Eddard made a mewling sound that he looked down.

“This is him?” he asked, a broken sob escaping in those three words.

“It is,” she replied, the tears already streaking her face in her elation. Whether it was coincidence or he sensed some of the momentousness of the occasion, Eddard turned his head and opened his eyes to behold his father. “Here is your son, my king,” she said more formally though she smiled at her husband. “He has your eyes.”

Jon knelt at the edge of the bed, laid his head down upon her lap and wept with joy.

~~~~~~~

She awoke to a darkened room with a gasp.

It was a dream, not a memory. It could not have been a memory, could it?

Someone had switched the television off. She wondered why he hadn’t carried her to bed.

The dream filled her with a bittersweet hope of what could’ve been and what could be.

But at what cost? she asked herself once more.

She climbed the stairs and found him showering.

“I was coming back to get you to bring you to bed,” he said when she slipped off her pajamas and joined him. “I needed to shower. I was…unclean.”

“It’s alright,” she said, moving into his embrace. The water was warm and his flesh was, too. He had fed. She buried her face into his neck and repeated those words. “It’s alright.”

You are mine…now and always.

Two weeks passed and nothing was decided about what had been discussed after the dinner with the Starks and Jon’s coven. An uneasy silence descended whenever the topic was breeched. Jon’s instincts were keen. He knew a storm was looming. He wondered when it would break.

Theon had left the coven. He said he’d rather be on his own as he worked some things through. Jaqen and Melisandre shared the large house alone now. They worried. All their strange, dark children had left them. They held out hope that Theon would return to them in time. They held no such hope for Jon.

For the mortals, spring was in full bloom but life without Ned and Catelyn Stark grew no easier.

Sansa went to class, Robb went to work and Jon tried to help with the boys as best he could.

Rickon had been suspended for fighting at school. The very next day, Bran was caught smoking pot in the boys’ restroom. The principal had called Robb at work to come get him. His boss had been less than thrilled when he’d had to leave for the second day in a row to go and fetch one of his wayward little brothers. His sisters were at school themselves. He could hardly call them.

Both boys would be home for three days. Uncle Benjen offered to have them stay with him. Rickon liked the idea but Bran said he needed to stay home. He said he needed to stay close to the tree. The dead look in his eyes and his tone when he told Robb that had frightened him worse than anything he could recall.

“Where has our sweet Bran gone?” Robb had asked Sansa over the phone that night. “Should I send him to therapy, too?”

But Jon knew the things that troubled Bran, that haunted his waking mind and lingered in his repose were not things any therapist could fix.

“The tree. It knows me, Jon,” Bran had said. “It always has. But now…I can’t get away from it. Even when I’m far away it speaks to me and I want it all to stop.”

“What would stop it?” Jon had asked. “How can we help you?”

“I don’t know if you can.”

I want to though. I do anything for you and your family, he thought.

“It’s Sansa you’re in love with,” Bran had said with a smirk.

“Bran? Did you…did you just read my mind?”

“I’m not a mind reader, Jon. But I know your thoughts all the same. I’ve seen them all before.”

“Then, you know how well I love you…all of you.”

“I know how well,” he’d said. “That’s what worries me about you, Jon.”

Robb had finally broken down and called Jon, asking if he would come stay with the boys during their suspension. He’d shared his worries, too. Jon knew it was not easy for him to ask anything of him.

“I wouldn’t call unless I was desperate but I can’t leave them here alone for three days…not with the way they’re both acting. I don’t want to lose my job though. It’s already bad enough. The social worker came out again yesterday. She already knew of their suspensions. Aunt Lysa’s been calling her every day. I think she’s got some informant at the school. She keeps offering to help but they’re better here. I know if we could have a chance to work through some of these things without interference, we’d be okay. And I don’t trust her…or Petyr. We all have trust accounts from Mom and Dad. I’m the only one that’s old enough to access mine though. Petyr’s smart. He’s an attorney. He keeps saying that he’ll take care of everything and trying to get me to turn everything over to him. I don’t know what to do. I’m…”

I’m afraid I’m going to lose them, Jon heard him think before Robb cleared his throat and said no more.

“I’ll come,” he said. “No one will take them from you…not while I’m around.”

Robb would’ve wanted the boys to stay home. He’d said they should do homework and chores. But Jon had been easy to sway.

Once more, he walked through the woods to the Weirwood, feeling the old forest and smelling the ancient blood that had watered these lands. The castle ruins were not far. Shaggy and Lady bounded ahead, Rickon whooping and giving chase. Ghost stayed by Jon’s side. Bran stopped at the tree and touched it.

“I belong here,” he sighed, a strange peace washing over his features.

He slid to the ground and wrapped his hand around one of the exposed roots. His eyes rolled back in his head and Jon watched him, not sure what to do.

“Jon!” Rickon shouted. “Come look!”

He gave Bran one last glance and followed the younger boy. Rickon was standing at the edge of the woods where there were boulders scattered amongst a scrubland. Not any boulders though.

These stones…this is where Winterfell once stood.

“Our castle awaits,” the boy laughed, running ahead.

“Wait, Rickon,” he called but the boy was swift.

Not nearly as swift as you.

But before he could move, Jon heard laughter echoing all around…the laughter of a little boy with dark red hair watching his older brothers practice archery. It pierced his heart, sharp as any arrow head.

He inhaled and could smell scents that he knew were no longer there. Wood smoke, roasted meat and fresh bread. Rich Sentinel trees and flowers from the glass garden. Dogs, horses, pigs and the shit off all three. Hay, sawdust and leather. Lavender and lemons…and rain. Rot.

The crypts. Would the crypts have survived?

And as he pondered that, he spied Rickon jumping from stone to stone with the dogs barking at him. The boy grinned at him and made another leap…and disappeared from view with a startled yelp.

“Rickon!” he shouted.

His ears picked up the whimpering cry. The dogs were all clustered together at one of the stones. The ground had given way and Jon looked down. Fifteen feet below Rickon lay at the bottom of a deep pit.

Not a pit, he realized as he leapt down, landing on his feet from the jump as easily as any cat.

“Are you badly injured?” he asked.

“I…I don’t think so,” he said with a wince.

“Can you wiggle your toes?”

The boy nodded and asked, “How did you make that jump?”

“I’ll get us back up,” he said, ignoring the question.

“How?”

Jon didn’t answer. He placed a hand on Rickon’s neck. The warm, sweaty flesh, a slow steady stroke of a cold thumb at his pulse point.  The boy grew quiet. His eyes fluttered closed.

Jon took moment to look around. It was dark but that was no concern for him. There were broken statues on the ground. A distant memory stirred. This was a Stark place. He did not belong.

Would my bones have been laid to rest here if I’d survived? If I’d died of old age? Would I have belonged then?

It didn’t matter now. He lifted Rickon into his arms and jumped.

Jon carried Rickon to the tree, nudging Bran with his foot. The boy’s eyes returned to normal.

“What happened?” he asked, scrambling to his feet.

“He fell. I think he’ll be fine but I want to take him back to the house.”

“Okay.” Jon could’ve had him back within minutes alone but he didn’t want to leave Bran. “You can go on,” Bran said, once more knowing his thoughts. “The dogs can stay with me. It’s not like I’ve never hiked back from here alone.”

Jon nodded and raced off towards the house, a blur to the human eye.

As he approached the house, he could smell others.  Sansa and Robb...but not just them.  He heard raised voices. He heard Sansa and Robb speaking. And he heard Petyr Baelish and a stranger.

They are not welcome here.

A rumbling growl began in his chest and the beast stirred.

No. Not now. I must take Rickon in and…

He seeks to take them away.

He can’t have them.

Will you stop him? You know his thoughts. A greedy little man. Greedy for more than just money. Her lush young body calls to him.

She is mine.

Jon rolled his neck and uttered a useless prayer for patience.

You were never all that patient.

“What happened?!” Sansa cried when she saw Jon carrying Rickon inside.

He laid the boy down on the sofa. “He’s alright. He took a bad fall near the castle ruins but he’s alright.”

“He’s unconscious!” Robb shouted. “How do you know he’ll be alright?! And where’s Bran? And what in Seven Hells were you doing there?!”

“He’s coming. I was faster than him.”

“Here’s another example of why I think it’d be best to have the children placed in their aunt’s custody, Mrs. Dustin,” Petyr was saying. “Not only are they not in school, but they out getting injured in the woods with Miss Stark’s boyfriend apparently.”

A roar was building in his throat, there was a screeching in his head as Petyr Baelish spoke. His eyes roamed over to Sansa, tracking up and down her body as he spoke of the boys and Arya’s well-being.  Uncle Petyr...the monster.

A growl slipped from Jon’s lips.

Sansa put her hand over his. “Don’t.”

Don’t. Don’t. Don’t be the monster. Don’t.

Be the monster.

No. Please…we can fix this. We can…

Then, Baelish smirked at him and a flash of memory struck.

The smell of rot and white hot rage filled him. Torches burned and the smirking little man that had poked and prodded, seeking his weakness. He had tried to keep calm. He had tried to be patient, tried to get away.

You were never very patient.

He had gotten under his skin. Even with Jon’s hand at his throat, his eyes had been laughing at him. I know your secret, those eyes had said.

The woman pulled some papers out of her bag.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Stark…” she began.

“No,” Robb said when he saw them. “You said you wanted to talk. My sister and I are here to talk. You didn’t say anything…”

“I know but I have a duty. We feel it’s for the best at this time that your younger sister and brothers be placed in the care of their maternal aunt until…”

“Please,” Robb cried. “I’m doing the best that I can. Don’t take them away. We’re a family. We belong together.”

Sansa was crying and begging Petyr not to do this. He put a hand on her shoulder and cupped her face. His concerned expression at odds with his lecherous thoughts.

The beast inside was screaming for blood.

Are you going to let them take your family away?

What would you have me do?

Rickon had awoken. He shouted that he wouldn’t leave home. He couldn’t leave Shaggy. He wanted Robb. He wanted Sansa. He wanted Jon. He wanted his mother and father and he hated his cousin Robin and Aunt Lysa. He was wild and untamable as he screamed and stomped and threatened. 

Jon could smell his fear and rage. He could feel Sansa’s heartbreak. He could hear Robb’s despair. It was too much.

“Please, calm down,” the woman was saying. “I’m giving you two days to get their things together and make some arrangement. Then, the authorities…”

He moved in a flash. Petyr’s neck was broken before Mrs. Dustin had even stopped speaking. A faint squawk was heard from her when Jon tore Petyr’s head from his shoulders with his bare hands. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide as Sansa and Rickon’s screams filled the room. Robb stood there stunned as Jon turned towards the woman, his fangs out, his eyes red. She never made another sound.

Chapter Text

“If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words.”

-Ned Stark, A Game of Thrones

“I should have been with him. Where was I? I should have died with him.”

-Theon Greyjoy, A Dance with Dragons

Judgment & Mercy

Like the old Kings of Winter, his face was hard like stone and his eyes appeared cruel in his wrath. Those who did not know him well would’ve quailed before that face. Even some that knew him well did. He had never looked more like a king. He looked nothing like the man who had loved her tenderly just this morning.

But she was his wife and she had a voice.

“Jon, please…if not for him…”

He raised his hand to silence her, his eyes cutting towards her as swift as any blade. She swallowed her words and told herself to trust his judgment.

“You betrayed Robb,” he growled when he turned his eyes back upon the man who knelt before him. “You betrayed all of House Stark when you took Winterfell.” The other lords began to murmur their assent. No one would stand for Theon, she knew. “You and your men killed good people that had served our house, that had served you as well, all their lives.” Jon unsheathed Longclaw and Theon shook. “Your actions destabilized Robb’s position, allowed the Boltons to take over and led all the North to suffer.” Sansa stood from where she’d been seated on his left. He paid her no mind but went on. “But most of all…your betrayal drove Bran and Rickon from their home. They were children forced to flee the safety of the walls of Winterfell because of you. Rickon’s death can just as easily be laid at your feet as anyone else’s. And the innocent boys you murdered in their place to cover your own incompetence…”

“Do it,” Theon said. “I am not asking for mercy. I don’t deserve it. I know I don’t. I can never make up for what I did to your family.”

Theon looked into his eyes once more before lowering his head.

Panic fluttered in Sansa’s chest. There was a time she would’ve gladly accepted Jon’s decision. But he had saved her. He had been broken by Ramsay, more broken than she had been, but when the chance came, he had saved her. She’d thought that would matter to Jon. Despite all the evil Theon had done, there was still good in him.

Before she could find her voice to speak up one last time and plead for Theon’s life though, Jon moved. The sword clanked against the flagstone as he dropped it and roughly pulled Theon to his feet.

“What you did for her is the only reason I’m not killing you.” Theon stumbled back a pace when Jon let go of his jerkin. There was a buzzing of dissent in the hall but it quickly died when Jon looked around. “The Watch always needs men…especially now,” he said. “I order you, Theon Greyjoy, to go and take the black.”

He stooped to pick up his sword and sheathed it once more. He stalked away before she could thank him for his mercy. He was a man of mercy but this had not come easily for him. She let him go and went to Theon instead.

“He should not have done that,” Theon said shakily. “I will go and serve the Watch but I do not deserve it.”

“He did it though…and you will serve him and the Watch well and remember Jon’s mercy.”

~~~~~~~~

“Have you lost your fucking undead mind?!” she heard Robb shout.

Sansa was lying on the floor with Jon leaning over her. She thought she might have fainted. She glanced over at the two bodies that lay on the living room floor nearby and was sure of it.

Jon’s eyes had returned to normal and his fangs were no longer out but that did little to calm her. He was covered in blood. He has also just murdered two people in front of them.

Sansa shook off Jon’s hand and went to Rickon in an attempt to shield him from the carnage.

Might be a little too late for that since he watched Jon rip Petyr’s head off, she thought. She shivered at the thought.

Her younger brother was shaking but he seemed calmer than he had before Jon’s reckless actions. “I won’t go with them. They won’t take me away,” he kept repeating under his breath. “I’m staying with you. They won’t take me away.”

Robb was pulling at his hair and pacing. He alternated between yelling at Jon and muttering darkly.

Jon was silent and had eyes only for her, trying to gauge her reaction. She wished she knew what to say or what to think. Was she so evil as to be glad of their deaths? She knew she shouldn’t be. She wished she knew the answer and she also wished not to know.

“Oh, holy shit!” Bran screeched when he arrived a few minutes later with the dogs. “Ghost, no!” he shouted as the curious pup went to inspect the detached head. “What the fuck happened here?!”

“I…I’m…” Jon rambled. He was apparently as at a loss for words as the rest of them. “I lost control,” he said heavily.

Their eyes met. She wanted to see the man…or thing…that she loved. But something shifted in his eyes and a darkness fell between them. That veil that kept him apart from the living was firmly in place now. The warmth of his smile, the love in his eyes, where had those things gone? A chill chased down her spine.

“I’ll dispose of them,” he said in a detached tone.

“Dispose of them?!” Robb barked. “They’re not unwanted leftovers, idiot! They’re people...dead people! People who have families that will be looking for them. That Dustin woman’s office probably knows she came here. What do you imagine they might think when she doesn’t return to work, huh? Do you believe the cops won’t come here asking questions at least? How are we to conceal this much…evidence? Haven’t you ever watched C.S.I.?!”

“I…”

“Maybe it doesn’t matter to you. You’re a monster after all. The police don’t frighten you, do they? It’ll be us that pay the price.”

“Robb, I’d never let any of you pay for my sins.”

“Then, what do you…”

“We need help,” Bran interrupted.

“Oh, you think, Bran?” Robb said sarcastically.

“I think we need Jaqen and Melisandre to come here. We need their help and…” Bran stared at Jon before continuing, “I think a decision has been made for us today. We need to change some things…if we can.”

“No!” Sansa gasped.

But Jon nodded and said, “I’ll send for them.”

A hazy sense of denial descended over her. She stood there mutely as Jon made his call.

The others are merely coming to help conceal the bodies. That’s all. They’ll help us get rid of them, just as Jon disposed of Joffrey and the intruders at his house and Myranda and gods know how many others. Just a matter of getting rid of the evidence and then we’ll go on and…

On and on it goes, another voice inside said. When does it end? Is there ever an end to this?

Rickon had been taken upstairs by Robb. Bran had taken the dogs outside. Arya arrived and Sansa heard Bran talking to her. She was completely unmoved by the dead people. A cold look came into her eyes, the one Sansa had seen before…the one that spoke of what her sister was capable of when it came to protecting their family.

“I don’t care what he did,” Arya said callously. “Uncle Petyr should never have come here and tried to separate us.”

Sansa understood her sister’s feelings even if it was difficult.

She became aware of Jon standing next to her, staring at her…reading her mind.

“It’ll be alright,” he murmured.

He touched her arm. His hand was warm. She didn’t want to think about why he was warm. It tightened around her wrist. She felt his thumb gently stroking her pulse point. Her knees became weak. He’d done this before, hadn’t he?

“Don’t,” she whimpered.

But he already had. She felt his strong arms lift her up just as the darkness claimed her.

~~~~~~~

She was tired and her back ached. She knew not why she’d bothered visiting the crypts today. She’d felt a tug to visit though and had gone without questioning it. But down in the dark and alone, she’d wondered what had led her here. Whatever she had dreamed, it had seemed important to come down here despite her condition.

She gazed at her father’s statue. It was a fair likeness but it did not bring her comfort. She missed him, missed the man who could appear so stern at times but whose eyes would grow as soft as fog when he watched his children or his wife. She wished to add other statues for the rest of her family. Perhaps someday they could.

Sansa stood before her Aunt Lyanna’s statue, Jon’s mother. It did not do her fabled, wild beauty justice. She grunted from the effort when she bent down to replace the feathers that had fallen again.

Sansa climbed the winding stairs to the bright, snow-covered courtyard. She made her way across the yard as various people stopped her with questions or seeking a word of reassurance.

She gratefully returned to the keep at last, sweaty and with a now throbbing ache in her back. Down the corridor she huffed along, feeling clumsy and enormous. She was so tired. She simply wasn’t resting at night between the babe kicking so much and all the other pressures she faced on top of the worry for her husband and the others.

The babe’s kicks were still low in her belly. Shouldn’t they be higher if he had turned?

She longed for a soothing bath but she would make do with a nap. Now was no time to trouble the servants over a bath. Some peace and quiet in her chambers and a nap...it would have to do.

Her time was nearing. Sam said the babe was strong but he was nervous about the delivery. He regretted that there was not another maester at Winterfell or even an experienced midwife.

She paused as she heard loud voices coming from the great hall.

“What’s the matter?” she asked the guard who was standing outside it.

“One of the men-at-arms struck Ser Lyn Corbray whilst they were both in their cups, Your Grace. The Vale knights are deciding his fate in there.”

“Oh dear,” Sansa said. A common soldier could be severely punished for striking a knight or anyone of noble blood. She wondered if she should go and see what the trouble was. Jon would not wish for men to be unnecessarily punished at such a time. But if the man was from the Vale, it was perhaps best to let them see to it. They could be rather touchy over their position and their honor, she’d learned. “Well, I will be in my chambers if anyone has need of me.”

“Aye, Your Grace,” the guard said.

Later that evening over her supper, she would learn that the man in question was Garrett, the one-eyed soldier who had brought her Ser Jaime’s sword. And, she’d learned that Ser Lyn Corbray had won his point with the lords. He had challenged Garrett to a sword fight and killed him.

The queen would go into labor soon after and lose her life as well.

Theon woke with a gasp, the dream too vivid to be a dream. He shuddered and wanted to sob. He wished to make this stop. He seemed helpless to prevent them.

Reek…it rhymes with weak.

The life Theon had known when Jaqen had changed him had faded from his memory over the years. He knew he’d been a conniving thief and con artist who stole from the wrong man. A powerful man with powerful friends and no mercy.

Reek…it rhymes with sneak.

He had paid for his sins in that life by being beaten like a dog for days on end. They would let him heal…only to repeat the cycle.

Apparently, it has always been my fate.

But Jaqen had taken him away from all that the night Theon had nearly died from another beating. He’d changed him, made him an immortal with strength that mortals could only dream of.

His first life though, the one of Theon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands…he’d forgotten it completely until Jon reminded him. Ever since the night he and Jon had killed the stag and Jon had shared what he knew, visions and dreams had been assaulting him. Memories of Ramsay and his flaying knife, memories of Sansa’s screams in the night, memories of the things Reek had done.

I’m not him.

He wasn’t. He was something Ramsay had never been. He was powerful. If he were to meet with Ramsay now, it would be Ramsay who quivered and begged. He hated dreaming of Ramsay though and recalling what it was to know fear after centuries of not fearing much anything.

But worse than remembering his time as Reek were the happier memories, memories of his youth at Winterfell. It had not always been joyful. He had been taken from his home and family at the whim of a king because of his father’s lust for power. But Lord Stark had not abused him and had tried to teach him right from wrong.

If only I had listened and not been so swelled up with my pride. He may not have been a loving man towards me but he treated me well. And his son...

He had loved Robb better than any brother he’d known from the loins of Balon Greyjoy. Rodrik and Marlon had died when he was a boy. They had never shown him any kindness. Robb had been a few years younger. But he had wound up looking up to Robb in the end just as Robb had looked up to him when they were younger.

He’d been unkind to Jon. It was not because he was a bastard so much as because he was a rival for Robb’s attention and Lord Eddard’s. He had lived to regret his actions towards the sullen Bastard of Winterfell though just as he’d agonized over his treasons. Long nights of pain and torment locked in a cage. There was so much time to reflect over the past and loathe every misstep along the way.

But the Winterfell of his youth and its people…it had been the best life Theon had ever known.

Until you ruined it.

He’d betrayed Robb. He’d betrayed them all. He’d killed innocent people. Robb had died and Theon had been a sniveling captive instead of dying by his side with a sword in hand. What songs would anyone sing of that?

‘What have I become,

My sweetest friend?

Everyone I know

Goes away in the end.’

The phone had been ringing for ages it seemed. He did not wish to stand and answer it.

He pictured her lovely face and the bruises down her arms. Pretty Sansa. Lord Eddard might never have given her to him but he would certainly never have given her to Ramsay.

“I helped you…and you helped me. You helped me remember my name,” he whispered in the silent room.

The phone started ringing again.

“Yes?” he answered at last.

“Theon,” Jaqen said. “Jon needs our help. The Starks need our help. Will you come?”

“I am their man.”

The three of them arrived together with solemn faces. Jaqen and Theon took the bodies off and returned soon after. Jon sat in Ned Stark’s chair holding Ghost and enjoying the feel of the pup’s soft fur.

‘Are you sure?’ Jaqen asked silently.

‘I am not…but I see no better alternative.’

Melisandre had brought her bag of tricks, her powders and little bottles. Bran was huddled together with her and Jaqen discussing their plans. They would teach the boy what they could in the time permitted. Jon hoped it would be enough.

Jon stroked Ghost’s ears and thought of the girl lying upstairs in her room asleep. He wanted to go up and lie down beside her one last time. If this was all for naught and he was never to see Sansa again, he wished to hold her once more.

But then I know what I’d do. It would never be enough. If I lay beside her, I’d want to hold her and then kiss her. If I kissed her, I’d want to make love to her. If I made love to her, I’d want to make her laugh and then make love to her again. And then…I’d never want to leave.

He would spend eternity wishing for one more day and time was of the essence.

You have been living this cursed life for centuries now. It’s time to end it…and she deserves better than a monster.

“Once you go back, there is no telling what may transpire,” Jaqen said.

“We could do great harm or we could do much good,” Bran said.

Jaqen nodded and laid a hand upon the boy’s shoulder. “I pray you will do well.”

“Have Sansa wear this necklace at all times,” Melisandre said next, indicating the ruby at her throat. “If she wishes to be seen, she must drink this potion. It only lasts a few minutes though. I’ve brought something for her to wear that will help her blend in but it is best to avoid being seen by too many.”

He’d never seen her without the ruby. What would happen to her once it was removed? Was she sacrificing herself as well?

Bran nodded and put the potion in his pocket.

“This is insane,” Robb said to the room. “I’m not killing anyone.”

“Only death can pay for life,” Jaqen reminded him.

“But, Jon’s not technically alive so does that even count? And Sansa and Jon both died, you said. So how does one undead vampire being destroyed do any good?”

“Two,” Theon said. “Two undead vampires.”

All eyes turned to Theon except Jon and Jaqen who had already heard him talking it over in his mind.

“Theon…you as well?” Melisandre asked sadly.

“Yes,” he said solemnly. “Where I was once content, now I am not. I have lived long enough.”

Jon knew his pain. He had loved Myranda though she did not deserve it. But now, she was gone. Eternity is a long time to live with one’s regrets. He felt he owed a debt to the Starks and to him.

Jon regretted causing all this trouble and wished he could make it all okay again. If he could go back to earlier in the day…if he could’ve controlled his rage…

I’d make it all better if I could. But I cannot. Perhaps they can, he dared to hope.

He heard the creak of the floorboards as she glided down the stairs. He went to meet her in the foyer away from the eyes of the others.

“Jon,” she sobbed, clinging to him fiercely. “Please, don’t.”

He wrapped his arms around her and allowed himself this moment. He inhaled the sweetness of Sansa; lavender, lemons and rain. His lovely.

“My lovely,” he said, kissing her brow, “there is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you. I am bound to you now and always. But now it is a heavy burden I have laid at your feet and only you can fix it for us. It is terribly unfair but I have faith in you.”

“I can’t,” she cried. “I’m not strong enough.”

“You are stronger than you know, Sansa Stark. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

He started to pull away, certain his resolve would crumble if he did not.

“Jon…” she begged, “will you not kiss me good-bye?”

His resolve did crumble. He clasped her tightly once more, his lips crashed against hers in a desperate attempt to savor the moment. He poured every ounce of humanity that remained in him into that kiss. She nipped at his lower lip, trying to hold on to him. Her eyes were darker and her face was flushed. He stumbled out of her reach. He would never go through with this if he touched her again.

“If it doesn’t work, don’t be sad. You’ll be better off without me in the end,” he said gruffly.

She was not fooled by his words or his tone. She did not approach him again but wrapped her arms around herself and said, “I’ll never stop searching for you.”

Three people, a witch and three vampires hiked through the ancient forest to the Weirwood. Arya kept Rickon at home. She had wanted to come as well for Sansa but Rickon didn’t need to see. He had seen enough. And Jaqen had said Arya would be able to tell a convincing lie if anyone called looking for the dead people while they were away.

The crows were cawing as they approached and Bran smiled. They were waiting for him. His hands tingled and itched to touch the tree but they had things to do first.

Sansa walked by his side in a brown dress and hooded cloak from days long passed. Her face was strained with the effort of making this walk.

Jon and Theon talked quietly together. They had made their choice. It was a difficult choice to make but they had made it.

Robb carried Winter and Bran held the stakes he had made.

“A moment’s action and it is done,” Jaqen had said to Robb.

Weirwood stake, Valyrian steel and fire. No evidence of their bodies would remain. Could they reclaim their souls?

We will see.

“Will you hate me?” he heard Robb whisper to Sansa.

“No,” she said shakily. “It must be you. Jaqen fears the steel and stakes. I’m not strong enough to do this. I cannot swing Winter like you. Bran cannot. Please, Robb…help me save them.”

Before the Heart tree they gathered and Robb knelt to pray to the Old Gods before drawing the sword. “The order does not matter. They will suffer less this way,” Jaqen said as he stepped back and Jon and Theon knelt before his brother…their brother.

Sansa drew the hood of the cloak but she did not look away.

"I don't want to do this," Robb said to them.  "I only hope..."

He stopped speaking.  This was hard enough for him. 

Robb hesitated for only a beat or two before he swung the sword once…then twice.

His sister was crying now.

Robb took a stake from Bran and they each drove one through a heart that had not beat in many years.

Melisandre built a fire and told Bran it was time. She took off her ruby necklace and put it around Sansa’s neck. “Keep it on until you return.”

“I’ll bring it back to you,” Sansa whispered.

“I will no longer need it, child,” Melisandre said with eerie certainty. “It is for the best. Twice I saw him returned from the dead when he asked for it neither time. Go on now. You needn’t watch him burn.”

“That’s not him,” Sansa said. “It’s only a body now. I’m going to go find him.”

“Of course, you will, dear girl,” Jaqen said, grasping Melisandre's hand.

"I'm sorry," Sansa said to them with tears in her eyes. 

They nodded and told her not to be.  "We've had a millennia together.  It is enough."

“Come, Sansa,” Bran urged, taking her hand to guide her past the fire. She didn’t need to see any more. She would see more soon enough.

He walked right up to the tree and smiled at the crows above still holding his sister’s hand. Robb joined them and hugged them both.

“I’ll be waiting for you to return. Please, return,” he said as tears spilled down his cheeks.

Bran nodded and asked Sansa, “Are you ready to go back to Winterfell?”

She said nothing but closed her eyes and waited.

He reached out for the tree and felt the bark beneath his fingers before his eyes rolled back. He grasped her hand and the present swirled away.

Chapter Text

Jon: We never should have left Winterfell.

Sansa: Don’t you wish we could go back to the day we left?

-‘Game of Thrones,’ Episode 06x04 The Book of the Stranger

Arwen: Go to sleep.

Aragorn: I am asleep. This is a dream.

Arwen: Then it is a good dream.

-The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers

The Wolves of Winterfell

Sansa opened her eyes and feared she was blind at first. But soon they began to adjust to the dimness. She immediately sensed she was underground. There were torches lit down a long stone passageway.

She looked around and stepped backwards with a gasp when she saw the frightening visage before her.

“Ouch! Watch it, will you?” Bran said as she stepped on his foot.

She felt her brothers arms steady her and drew a deep breath. “Where are we? And what in Seven Hells is that?”

Bran smirked. “That’s a direwolf…one carved in stone anyway. Look at the man behind him.”

Bran was right. It was a great direwolf, the ancient sigil of House Stark back when the great houses of Westeros bore sigils. And behind the wolf statue was the figure of a man. He had a great shaggy beard and his expression was hard…cruel.

“The old Kings of Winter,” Bran said. “Come on…we’re in an older section.”

“Older section of what? What is this place?”

“The crypts,” he shrugged. “These are the crypts of Winterfell.”

“The castle?”

“Yes.”

“And is this…the past?”

“Yes. The War for the Dawn is happening. Winterfell has been under siege but is currently safe. Jon is farther North fighting…as are others.”

“But I’m supposed to save Jon. If he’s not at Winterfell, why did you bring us here?”

“I didn’t bring us here. This is where the tree took us,” Bran said as though that explained everything. “Come on.”

She followed her younger brother in silence, mindful of her step along the old, stone passages. It was quiet here, dusty and there was a faint smell of corruption. She followed Bran’s figure that loomed ahead and tried not to think of what had occurred by the Heart Tree earlier.

What are we doing? And what have we done? What if this is all a disaster and we don’t change anything? And what if I’ve lost him for good because of it?

The doubts plagued her. She’d imagined they’d have time to weigh out their options but then this afternoon everything had happened so suddenly.

The crypts must be enormous, she thought as they climbed a stair, one after another. Step by step by step. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming and not thinking.

Anything was preferable to remembering what had happened earlier. Petyr lost his head…and then so did Jon. And Theon, too. Did that matter? Would Theon’s sacrifice along with Jon’s be enough to save them both?

Shut up. Please, shut up, she begged her mind.

They reached an end to the stairs and a broad corridor stretched before them. It was more illuminated than the others. They started walking and then Bran grasped her hand.

“Sansa…” he whispered. “Look. It’s you.”

It was. It was her and it wasn’t her. This young woman was close to her in age but the face was unmistakable. This was Sansa Stark…from a thousand years earlier. She wore a long cloak trimmed with grey fur. Her dark blue dress reached the floor and was much finer than the dress Melisandre had provided for her. There was a direwolf embroidered across the front of her dress and Sansa knew she had stitched it herself.

I know because I did it.

She was also very pregnant.

“You’re totally knocked up. This is so trippy,” Bran laughed.

Sansa hissed at him to be quiet but the other Sansa went on staring at the statue before her, the statue of a man. She could not hear or see them, just as Melisandre had said.

Not unless I take the potion.

“So, this is what I’d look like pregnant…really pregnant. I’m huge!” Sansa said with a snarl of distaste. “This is not normal.”

“Sansa…it’s Dad,” Bran breathed. Sansa blinked and really looked at the statue. Her brother was right. It was their father, Eddard Stark. But from a thousand years ago. “Toto…I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” Bran said though his voice was filled with more awe than sarcasm.

“Ha. Ha. Why do you think the tree sent us here? Am I supposed to talk to Old Me?”

“Old You? She’s younger than you are.”

“Yeah, but she’s from a thousand years ago so she’s Old Me.”

“You can’t talk to her.”

“I’ve got the potion.”

“Sansa…haven’t you ever read ‘The Prisoner of Azkaban’? You can’t go showing yourself to your past self. Your past self will think she’s gone insane…or try and kill Future You…or…”

“Fine! What are we supposed to do?”

“Let’s just follow her. See if there’s some purpose for us here or something to learn.”

As if it was the spark Old Sansa needed, she turned away from the statue and walked away. They followed.

Both of them blinked when they climbed out of the crypts behind Sansa’s former self. It was blinding white from fallen snow after the darkness of below. Like Dorothy in Oz they stared in wonder at the sights that met their eyes.

“It’s like a historical reenactment or something,” Bran said.

Sansa had to agree. There were blacksmiths hammering away at swords and horseshoes. There were serving women scurrying along the courtyard carrying bundles of laundry or pails of water. Little boys were fetching firewood. All of them wearing clothing from the past. There were horses neighing in the stables and game hung up for butchering. Dogs barked from the kennels. Everyone was busy going to and fro but every single one stopped and made their obeisance when Sansa Stark passed their way.

‘Your Grace,’ they would call and the lady would nod in acknowledgement. Some would stop her with a question or a concern and she would answer each with calm courtesy and intelligence.

I was a pretty awesome queen, Sansa thought as she watched.

At last they entered the castle. Both of them were in awe of the ancient stronghold of House Stark. It was not a fancy palace like Sansa might’ve read about in a fairy tale but it was immense and impressive all the same.

They heard raised voices and Old Sansa went that direction.

“What’s the matter?” the queen asked a guard.

“Wait!” Sansa said to Bran. “I know this…I dreamed this!”

“Maybe it’s important somehow.”

“It is…I know it has to be.” She had no proof of that but something in her gut said it was. Why have the particular visions of Garrett the one-eyed soldier if he was not important?

“Well, I’ll be in my…” her former self was saying.

Sansa ran over, wishing she could shake herself. She waved her hands in her face and shouted. “Do something! Go in there! Don’t go lay down! Your stupid nap can wait! They’re gonna kill that Garrett guy if you don’t do something!”

“Sansa, she can’t hear you,” Bran argued.

But the queen paused without finishing her sentence. She frowned and then said, “I’d like to see what this is all about.”

An hour later, Sansa was feeling somewhat smug and Bran was sick of it.

“Yes, yes…you may have saved his life. Or at least Old You did. Happy?”

“I am,” she said as they explored the castle whilst keeping up with the queen.

“Your Grace!” a man’s voice shouted as he thundered down the corridor towards them. It was Garrett and there was a woman at his side. “My lady, I am forever in your debt,” he said with a bow.

“Think nothing of it. Ser Lyn was taking a trifling matter too far. It was the least I could do in exchange for you service.”

“Nevertheless, I am your man, my lady…now and always. I will be returning to fight beside the king shortly.”

“I wish you well. I wish you could lay down your arms and rest but we need all our fighting men for the war.”

“And our women, Your Grace.”

“I beg your pardon?” the queen said in confusion.

“Permit me to introduce my wife.” Sansa smiled as the woman curtsied to her. “She’s been staying in the Wintertown the past several moons and helping there. But I told her about what happened earlier and what you did…and she wanted to meet you.”

“Oh, it’s a pleasure to…”

“My Mara,” Garett continued, “she’s a midwife, my lady.”

The queen flushed and murmured an acknowledgement. Oh, I’m so cute when I’m flustered.

“I’ve helped birth dozens of babes, Your Grace,” the woman said. “I’m sure a queen has a maester or two but if you’ve need of an experienced woman when your time comes, I’d be happy to attend you.”

Old Sansa thanked the woman. She admitted she was nervous about the impending birth and the fact that the maester had little experience in the birthing room.

Mara looked her up and down, a slight frown on her face. “Well, if you don’t mind me saying, my lady, your size and the dark circles under your eyes tell me you’ll be having that babe soon. But the way you’re carrying concerns me a bit.”

“I’ve been very tired today and I ache.” Mara nodded knowingly. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind staying here in the castle for the time being?”

“Of course, my lady. You saved my husband’s life.”

Sansa’s spine was tingling. She tried to remember the memory from their child’s birth. She remembered Sam. She didn’t remember Mara.

She wasn’t there before. Her husband had been killed by some knight. She would’ve been grieving. She never would’ve met you.

She glanced at Bran hopefully. His eyes were filled with tears. “Sansa,” he gasped. “I saw you dead in one of my visions. I held your baby. I…”

She hugged her brother. She understood his pain and he understood hers.

“Will this change things? Could she save Old Me?”

“I think…maybe so. You just saved yourself.”

“No,” Sansa said, pointing at her former self. “It was her. Old Me did it. She saved his life and now maybe his wife will save hers.”

There was a humming in his ears and the room seemed to reel before him.

“I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait for you forever.”

He heard her voice, soft as a kiss in his memory.

“GET OUT!” he roared, his heart splintering in his chest. Their voices buzzed around him, insipid words of sympathy from Varys and useless suggestions from Tyrion. His world had ended. Couldn’t they see it? Why must they plague him with their presence? “GET OUT! GET OUT NOW!”

She was dead. The babe was dead. There was nothing left for him here, nothing left to fight for.

That’s not true, Jon, Father’s voice said. There are the others to think of. Think of Arya. Think of Bran. The Night King still needs to be defeated or everyone that breathes today will swell the ranks of his army on the morrow. You can still face him.

Aye…I can. And then, I’ll rest with my sweet girl.

He laid down to weep, allowing his misery to swallow him whole.

But before he had exhausted his tears, he felt a draft enter the tent. Ghost stood up and growled softly.

“Whoa…you are fucking huge,” he heard a woman’s voice say unsteadily. “Gods…please, don’t eat me, boy.” He heard Ghost whimper and then pant. His paws crossed the ground of the tent “Okay, you’re gorgeous. Huge and scary but gorgeous,” she giggled.

That voice. It cannot be.

He shook his head, opening his eyes to dispel this hallucination. He startled to find Sansa standing by his pallet.

“Sansa?”

She smiled, soft and sweet, so lovely. My lovely, he thought.

She looked different somehow but there was no mistaking his wife. Her dress was plain, some homespun brown thing a servant might wear. Her cloak was the same. Her posture was not as straight as usual but her eyes were Tully blue and her long, copper locks glowed in the torchlight. She was slim and…

She was slim.

No, the accursed truth whispered in his ear. This is just a dream. She is dead and this is the ravings of a grieving mind.

She leaned over him. She wore a strange necklace that held a large glowing ruby in it. It looked familiar but it was not like anything Sansa would wear.

“Jon,” she said tremulously. “Is it really you?”

The dream was speaking. Though it was likely folly, he reached out to stroke the silky flesh of her cheek. His hand did not pass through her though. Her skin was warm. He smelled a hint of lavender…and lemons.

“Oh, Jon…” she sighed.

She was flesh and blood. But that was impossible. He’d left her at Winterfell. She was dead.

This is a trick, a glamour. Melisandre.

He snarled and without warning, his hand viciously clutched her wrist. She gasped sharply in surprise and winced.

“Jon! What are you…”

“What do you want, witch?!” he shouted. “What game is this?!”

He stood and yanked her bodily across the room to where there was a small mirror. He ignored the pang he felt at her yelp of pain. He held the mirror up to her, expecting to see the witch’s reflection in it. But it was only Sansa.

Ghost was growling now. Strangely, he seemed to be growling at him.

“Jon! It’s me! It’s really me! Please…”

“You’re dead! She’s dead! You come to me like this in my grief! I should’ve hanged you when I had the chance! Daenerys allowed you to join us. I didn’t want you here but I let it go. And, this is what you would do?”

He wrapped his hands around her throat but he did not squeeze…not yet. Her eyes were wild with fright as he would expect. He would not be fooled so easily. She should’ve known better.

But there was something else in them…a wounded look that he would not have expected.

“It’s me, Jon. I swear it. It’s…don’t you know me?” she asked sadly.

He wanted to shake her, make her stop lying. But he stood there staring at her, looking her up and down, hoping against hope that maybe this wasn’t a trick and perhaps not even a dream.

“I don’t blame you for reacting this way,” she said quietly. His conscience tugged at him. His hands slackened their hold slightly. “I know it’s very strange. I should be home. I was pregnant when you saw me last. I’m me but not me…not the me you know. It’s hard to explain.”

“Explain it to me.”

“I know things about you no one would know.”

“Aye…you’ve surprised me before with the things you know, witch. It doesn’t make you Sansa.”

“But I’m not her. Gods, this is so fucking weird! I’ve only got a few minutes here and I’m blowing it!”

He chuckled against his will. “My lady wife would never use such language, Melisandre.”

“I’m not a…Gods! You’re just as stubborn in this life apparently!” she groused. “I’m not the witch! I’m Sansa, Sansa Stark. I’m…it’s me. I’m me and you’re you and…” She huffed in exasperation and rolled her eyes. The expression was very like his wife when she was vexed. “I’m not dead…and neither is our baby.”

“Our babe?” he asked. He dropped his hands and felt her slip a hand in one of them.

“A boy,” she said with a smile that rivaled the rising sun. “Eddard. He’s perfect, Jon. He’s healthy and he lives. I watched…I saw him, Jon. I held him. I nursed him at my breast. He was born and this time…I lived.” He scowled in confusion. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

She cupped his cheek. Part of him wanted to pull away, too afraid to hope if that hope would only be extinguished when he woke. But part of him wanted to believe so badly. She looked and sounded and even smelled like Sansa. He felt her thumb stroke his beard. He leaned into her touch. Her touch…it was just like Sansa’s.

“Jon, look into my eyes. I don’t have long here with you but I need you to hear this. I live. Our son lives. He needs you. He needs you to teach him to use Winter?”

“What?”

“I…the sword…Father’s sword…never mind. That can wait.”

The pull he felt towards her was too strong. She pressed her forehead to his. He could not resist. If this was a trick, he might prefer to go on being fooled.

“What does he look like?” he asked, his heart in his mouth.

“Like you…he has your eyes,” she choked out with a sob.

He could not bear her tears. He kissed her sweet lips to comfort her but it was comfort to him as well. She sighed into his mouth. He deepened the kiss but she lightly pushed him back. A flush stained her cheeks.

“I’m sorry…I can’t kiss you like this now. You’re…I’m waiting for you. Kiss me like that when you come home again.” He nodded. It made no sense but then none of this did. “Please…we need you to come home to us. If you die, we’ll be in danger. Your aunt wants the throne. She means to rule by any means necessary. I don’t think she can see past it anymore.”

A chill coursed through him. He knew it, didn’t he? Hadn’t he known that for a while now? He’d seen what she was capable of in her thirst for power, a city laid to waste and innocents burned to ash. He’d seen the glittering fury in her eyes when he’d told her he would not name his child a Targaryen. The throne was all she talked about. She wanted it desperately. Nothing would deny her what she believed to be her birthright and destiny.

At one time, he might have swayed her, might’ve found a way to bend her to see reason. She had wanted him and might’ve listened. But he had denied her his heart and closed that door between them. Now, he was an obstacle. Their son would be an obstacle.

And if I die, who will protect them?

Sansa moved away from him. He mourned the loss of her touch at once. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“I can’t stay. I can’t stay,” she said nervously. Her hand fluttered up to the necklace. The ruby was no longer shining so brightly. She glanced down to where Ghost had come to stand beside her. The wolf sniffed her hand and nuzzled against her hip. She ran her fingers through his fur. “Hello, boy,” she said softly.

Could Ghost be tricked? Somehow, he didn’t think so.

“I’m sorry. I can’t stay. I’m waiting for you, Jon. We’re waiting for you in Winterfell. Come back to me.”

She was at the entrance of the tent. He was frozen in place. He wanted to chase her but he could not seem to move.

“When you returned from Dragonstone, you loved me beneath the Weirwood. Do you remember? ‘As long as I draw breath, I’ll always return to you,’ you said. Keep fighting, Jon. Keep breathing. Come home to me and our son. ‘I’ll protect you, I promise,’ you told me the night before you fought Ramsay. You promised me, Jon. You promised. Don’t forget.”

His mouth fell open. Those were his words. He’d never uttered them to another soul.

The flap of the tent was already closing and she was gone. He raced out of his tent but there was no sign of her.

He sucked in a lungful of the cold night air. Ghost trotted out of his tent past him. He headed towards Daenerys’ large pavilion. Jon followed his wolf.

After he had heard things not meant for his ears, he reflected on what to do. Arya had headed back to Winterfell days ago under his orders. He needed someone he could trust…at least when it came to Sansa. He sought out Theon Greyjoy.

Theon awoke from an hour’s repose to the sound of the war horns. The end was near. The Others were fighting alongside their minions now. The dead needed no sleep but men did. Exhausted but determined, the living fought on.

And Theon had known far worse hells than being cold and sleep deprived. This was nothing. He merely had to fight and then live or die. He’d take it a thousand times over being Reek again.

Jon had come to him three nights ago and shared strange tidings and many worries.

“If I die, you must protect them. Arya might manage it but I would feel better if you were there, too. They must be out of Daenerys’ reach.”

“I am your man,” Theon had replied. He remembered Jon’s mercy just as Sansa had said he would. He had failed Robb. He had betrayed Robb and all the Starks. He would not fail Jon now.

The tent flap opened as the war horn stopped blowing and Theon sat up.

“You’re awake?” Jon asked.

“I am.”

Jon eyed him skeptically. “You look terrible.”

Theon chuckled. “You should see yourself.”

“Come. It’s nearly done.”

Since that conversation three nights ago, they’d fought side by side with what remained of their Northmen and the Nights Watch. Theon would not leave his side except when they slumbered. Jon had not questioned him about it. He knew the heavy guilt that Theon carried.

Jon’s dragon had perished in the fighting the night before and the last known Targaryen male would be on foot from here on. If he had been flying when the Night King’s spear had found Rhaegal, he would’ve died from the fall. But he had used his abilities to warg into the beast, making it fight for them while staying aground in close contact with the men.

“I’m needed on the ground. I’m better with a sword than you,” he’d japed in a rare moment of levity.

“I’m better with a bow,” Theon had replied.

“Aye…that you are,” Jon had said more seriously.

Daenerys was rumored to be mad with grief. She was holding Drogon back out of the fray. She would not risk her last dragon.

Theon sneered at the thought of her, this self-proclaimed queen who had let his sister perish on her behalf without so much as an expression of regret. He had not been able to reach Asha in time. Between Euron’s follies, the destruction of Kings Landing and the Great War, the Iron Born were nearly wiped out.

I am the last Greyjoy. If I survive and once I see to it that Sansa and the babe are safe, I’ll go to Pyke and rebuild what can be salvaged if Jon will let me. He will. I know he will. I am a Stark and a Greyjoy. And, I will serve the realm.

Great spears made of dragonglass had brought down Viserion and Rhaegal in their wight form but that did not mean the living could take their ease. The enemy was losing ground but still as dangerous as ever.

“Theon,” Jon said, his voice barely a whisper. “Look there,” he pointed.

Theon saw him then…the Night King and hundreds of wights. He raised his bow. He did not have many dragonglass arrows left. He closed one eye and took aim at the enemy.

“We need only him brought down. The wights will be destroyed if we destroy him,” Jon muttered.

He loosed the arrow but the sharp, wintry wind caught it, causing it to fall short. He cursed under his breath but Jon patted his arm. It had been a long shot.

He could feel the cold eyes of the Other staring at him. Those eyes were nearly enough to unman him.

“Follow me!” Jon bellowed to their tattered army, leading the charge with Longclaw in hand and Ghost by his side.

Theon drew his sword and ran after him. If we’re going to die, let us die together.

What followed after was something Theon Greyjoy would never forget. Jon slashed and parried his way through scores of wights as though they were nothing. His sword seemed to glow as though it were aflame as the faint winter’s sun broke over the horizon. He was driven with a single purpose, to destroy the Night King and end the war.

Ghost was nearly brought down by wights but Theon was there. The living, breathing embodiment of House Stark would live on if he had any say.

When he looked around again, he saw a sight that he would later describe to a young artist in his old age. Hemmed in by wights, Jon stood alone with his sword ablaze in the morning sunlight as he faced the Night King.  Theon recalled the tales of the Last Hero Nan had told them when they were still boys.

He saw the flash of the enemy’s blade and saw Longclaw block the blow. A slash and a block, they danced for Dawn or for Darkness. And then there was a blur of movement from both. With one swipe, the Great Other was defeated as the Night King shattered like ice into a million pieces. A moment later, all the wights fell and became nothing but inanimate heaps of bones.

Theon cried out with joy, a thin, reedy sound, along with the hoarse cheering of the other men. But then he saw Jon stumble and fall. He raced to his brother, the brother he had never wanted, the one he would die for now if needed.

“Jon!” he shouted. Ghost beat him to the body. But the body raised a hand and patted the direwolf’s neck. His other hand went to his face and Theon saw the blood. “Oh, gods,” he moaned as he sank to his knees beside him. “Your eye.”

“Aye…my eye,” Jon said in a strangely amused tone. “I wasn’t quite quick enough with my block. A small price to pay though.”

Theon did not know what to make of such foolishness and urged others to help him carry their lord commander back to his tent and safety.

“I couldn’t watch anymore!” Sansa yelped after Bran let go over her hand and they stood in the camp again.

All around them the fighting had gone on as though they did not exist. We don’t…not really…not here.

But she had existed for a short while. He had seen her, touched her and spoken with her. He was Jon and yet he was different from her Dark Angel, her Man in Black. He spoke more gruffly. He was scarred and battered. She still loved him.

No matter the small differences, I will always love you.

“Sansa, they couldn’t have hurt us.”

“But they were being hurt!” she shrieked at Bran. “You know I hate zombies and scary shit and that was the freakiest fucking shit I’ve ever seen. It was horrible! Those were real people dying!”

“People who died a thousand years before we were born though.”

“So?!”

“Sansa…Jon won,” he said with a smile then.

“He did,” she said…and then burst into tears. “He won. He lived. Oh, Bran!”

She wrapped her arms around her brother and sobbed with relief.

In the distance, as Theon had been crouched over Jon, seeing to his wound, they had seen Jaqen standing alone. No Melisandre at his side. What did that mean?

The vampire, unnoticed by the men, had watched and then walked away once the fighting was done. But first, he had looked at them both. Sansa would swear he had seen them. He had looked right at them and smiled, giving them a bow before walking away.

“He lost an eye,” she said after her tears had dried up.

“He did…but better than losing his life or becoming a vampire, right?”

“Right,” she said uncertainly.

She was happy for Queen Sansa back in Winterfell with Little Eddard. Her husband would be coming home. But now, her love…her vampire, her monster would never exist. Would she ever find him again?

I’ll never stop searching for you, she swore under her breath.

A great commotion caught her and Bran’s attention. A dwarf ran towards the king’s tent shouting.

“She’s lost her mind! Get him out of here! She’s coming for him! She’s coming with fire and blood!”

“What is he…” Sansa started to say and then she heard it. A blood-curdling screech that filled her with dread. A dragon, an enormous black beast and its rider soaring through the sky towards the camp. “Oh, gods…Bran!”

But Bran took her hand and pointed at a man standing by the king’s tent. Theon had picked up his bow. He exhaled, took aim, drew and let fly.

An agonized roar echoed all around them as fluid and blood spewed from the dragon’s pierced eye, the arrow having avoided the thick scales and skull. The leathery wings beat two, three times more before it began a slow dive towards the ground, taking its rider down with it.

His heart felt as though it might break as they watched them. Sansa was so happy for them as was Bran but both of them were aware of the price she had paid for this moment. He’d been alright for a bloodsucker. Bran would miss him very much.

“This is him?” Jon asked, a broken sob escaping in those three words.

“It is,” Queen Sansa replied, holding the baby up for her husband to see. “Here is your son, my king. He has your eyes.”

Jon knelt at the edge of the bed, laid his head down upon her lap and wept with joy.

“Sansa,” Bran said gently as his sister wept beside him. “We must go.”

“Please…just a little longer. He’s finally home and they’re so happy and…”

“We cannot stay too long. Trust me, I’ve learned the error of lingering in the past too long. It fucks you up.”

“What if I never see him again, Bran?” she cried. “What if this is the last time I ever see him again?”

He had no answer for that. He kissed her cheek. “This is not where we belong, Sansa. I’m sorry. I hope you’ll see him again.”

He took his sister’s hand and called to the tree. It was time to go home.

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.