and like a true stark it killed her

Part One: Echoes

A Jon/Sansa ficlet in the aftermath of the Battle of the Bastards. A truth is revealed.

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Her home is filled with ghosts.

At night, Sansa stares for hours into the darkness of her room as demons stalk the edges of her sleep-deprived mind before she eventually rises in search of the only person who can understand. She wanders the darkened, frozen halls alone, her feet bare despite the chill, and listens to the echoes of her childhood.

He’s rarely in the same place twice, but they always manage to find each other, drawn together like two halves of the same coin.

Tonight she finds him atop the tower, staring north and painted silver by moonlight. Jon glances at her as she comes to his side and immediately takes off his cloak –the one she’d made for him—and drapes it about her. Sometimes his goodness infuriates her. Makes her wish to hurt him, to tarnish him in some way. It seems so unfair that he should remain so good after everything he’s seen, everything he’s been through when a darkness grows in her heart. The scent of him —leather, horse, polishing oil, and something deeper, something forbidden—warms her, however, and the darkness recedes. Just a little.

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