Jonsa Week Day 2 Entry: Dragons

Summary: Sam thought it normal that Ghost follow Sansa, but Viserion? That is odd.


Sam snickered beside Jon, arms resting on the bowl of his stomach. With the war now over and the long night not to be feared as spring brings a hopeful return, it felt as if the world could rest. The mounting fright that came from beyond the Wall is now gone, all but a memory, however for most they relive that memory every night.

Even so, the realm is safe once more, and with it comes a natural life. Of course that cannot go unburdened. There is still a game to be played. At least, that is what lady Sansa tells Jon and he.

With the thought of her in mind, his eyes draw to her form, the lovely lady helping those in need. Handing out warmer cloaks, fresh baked bread, and clean water- the cloaks she made herself, as well as the mittens and boots.

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My Path Was Always Leading Me to You

Pairing:  Jon x Sansa

Rating: PG-13

Parts: 1/?

Notes:  I gone and done it, my first fic. Based on the show (have not read the books). I’m sure there’s plenty of mistakes.  It’s more about being a character study so be kind.  Also, I’m not really used to tumblr, so sorry for strange formatting in posting if that happens.

To Jon, Sansa’s musical laugh seemed to cut through the din of the filled Great Hall as the feast commenced.  He could not help the smile that tilted up the corners of his mouth nor stop himself from seeking out the bright hue of her hair as she stood some feet away from him talking to Alys Karstark and several other ladies. Sansa seemed to grow brighter than any flame that lit the room with her burnished hair and the pearly grey of her woolen dress that was embroidered with silver threads that twinkled in the light.

Jon could feel his eyes soften as he continued to gaze at his sister, a steady burning in his belly and chest as she laughed again. A slight turn of her head and she caught him looking at her.  She offered him her own soft smile, the one that she shared with no one else, where she allowed herself to let the mask of strength slip for a moment so he could still see that some of that sweet girl he knew had not been totally beaten out of her by the monsters she had faced.

Your Grace.”

The tone in Davos’ voice indicated he had been trying to catch Jon’s attention for some time.  The young king tore his eyes away from Sansa to look to his right where his most trusted advisor had been seated.  A frown marred the older man’s face who looked from Jon to Sansa and back to Jon again. Concern and worry were etched in the former smuggler’s eyes and he sighed slightly.

“I do not think,” he said in a low voice, “It is wise to occupy yourself so much with your sister’s whereabouts during the feast, your Grace.”

 Jon stiffened and one hand fisted itself.  “I wasn’t aware that my concern over my sister’s welfare was something that needed to be monitored or questioned in any way.” Though he spoke harshly and authoritatively, Jon could feel the small coil of guilt warring with the earlier fire he had felt when looking at Sansa.

 Davos looked at him carefully and not without a small touch of pity in his eyes.  “Concern over her welfare is one thing, Jon, more powerful feelings are quite another.” He inched closer and lowered his voice even more.  “I know how you’ve looked at her and how often you seek out her company.  It has not gone unnoticed by others, Jon. Questions and rumors will begin to circulate and Lady Stark will bear the brunt of it. Already some of your banner men are suspicious of her due to her previous marriages and their own jealousy of how much she has your ear. Half of them fear her influence and the other half are eager to bed her. I speak not only to protect you, but her as well. I beg you, your Grace, control yourself!”

 Davos leaned back and stared pointedly at Jon whose lips had thinned into a tight line. His eyes burned hot and furious, but Davos could also see guilt in those dark orbs.  He watched as the King glanced back in Sansa’s direction.  She was still talking to the ladies, but this time, Jon’s eyes connected with his sister’s sworn shield, Brienne of Tarth who was never too far away from Sansa’s side, even in a place as innocuous as their own Great Hall. The giantess stared steadily back at the King, her hand flexing on the hilt of her sword.  In her pretty blue eyes, Jon could see a warning.

 You may be King, but my loyalty is to Sansa and I will not allow any type of harm to befall her, not even from you.

 Jon sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily. “Understood, Davos.  I appreciate your concern and your words.  I assure you, I will not treat them lightly.”

 Davos nodded, satisfied he had said his piece and was still able to keep his head.  He knew Jon was a good and honorable man and would never do anything to compromise his sister, no matter what he might feel.  Over the last few months, Davos had watched as the younger man seemed to fall more steadily and deeply in love with his half-sister.  At first he had dismissed it as the last vestiges of a family clinging to each other and trying to weather the enormous changes and duties thrust upon them. But slowly, and surely, Davos had seen other signs that alarmed him greatly.  The sullen Jon Davos knew would never laugh or smile as frequently as he did, especially now with the threat of the White Walkers on their doorstep and the burdens of a kingdom on his shoulder.  Yet, in the few months they have been in Winterfell, he had seen the younger man laugh and smile more than all the years he had known him.  And he only smiled and laughed when Lady Stark was with him, often they were simply speaking to each other with no one else involved in the conversation.

 Then it was the small things he would do for her, thoughtful things a lover might do such as bringing back a length of expensive cloth from Wintertown so she could make herself a pretty dress, or somehow procuring lemons to make her lemon cakes.  Each time Sansa thanked him for these small courtesies, Jon had blushed like some lovelorn boy, embarrassed that the pretty girl he was mooning over noticed him.  

But more telling was Jon’s unwillingness to hear of any man petitioning for Sansa’s hand. It made sense to marry her off to secure an alliance or to strengthen existing ones. Despite the declarations the Northern Houses had made to Jon as King of the North, Davos knew how tenuous some of those oaths were. These were the houses that had turned their backs on the Starks when the time came to fight Ramsey.  House Glover, the strongest, most powerful house, had offered their eldest son as a potential husband to Sansa, but Jon had coolly turned them down, saying he would not barter his sister off like others had before to such unhappy results.  It had taken much to smooth things over and a sharp reminder from Lady Mormont of Lord Glover’s own cowardice before the battle with the Boltons to ensure the banner man did not take the refusal as an insult and continued to support the King.

 Then Davos knew, and worse, he suspected at least Lady Mormont might have thought the same as she turned thoughtful, contemplating eyes towards Jon.

 At first he was horrified and wondered if Jon’s bastard blood had tainted him in some way, but he knew Jon Snow as a good man.  That was why Davos had suggested this feast and inviting some of their bannermen and their women folk to stay at Winterfell for several weeks.  Not only would it give them time to plan for the winter and threat of the White Walkers, among the other thousand and one issues facing the North, but Davos had thought if other eligible women were around perhaps Jon would not be so enamored with his sister.  The lack of women at Winterfell had to be the reason a good man like the Jon Snow he knew could be falling in love with his own sister.  That there simply wasn’t another woman around, and Lady Stark was extremely beautiful, and the fact Jon hadn’t had a woman in a while must be the reasons he would be drawn to her.  Perhaps some other comely woman would catch his eye and this thing with Sansa would prove to be only a passing fancy.

 However, that was not the case.  Davos was even excited to see Alys Karstark with her vague resemblance to Lady Stark.  Alys was slightly shorter and heavier than the tall, willowy Stark girl, and her face was not as fair, but she had a firm, curvaceous body and a somewhat pretty face. She also had a fall of long, auburn hair, not quite as bright and silky as Sansa’s, but still, it was close.  She was also fierce and daring in her words and actions, much like the feisty Lady Mormont.  He heard some Northerners liken her to Jon’s other sister, Arya whom he loved greatly, and even Tormund mentioned that she reminded him a little of Jon’s dead lover, Ygritte.  All seemed to indicate a woman who would capture the King’s interest.

 However, that did not happen. He was perfectly polite when he met Lady Alys and courteous when they crossed paths, but Davos could see he had as much interest in the other woman as he did in Lord Karstark, perhaps less since Karstark was at least offering men in the fight with the Others and that led to the two men speaking more than passing greetings like Jon did with Alys.

 While Davos had not intended to speak to Jon about his inappropriate affections, when he saw him gazing at Sansa across the roomful of his banner men, some watching him, a few perhaps a little too closely, he had to speak.  Especially when he saw the calculating eyes of Petyr Baelish assessing the soft smile of the King as he gazed upon his sister.

 No something had to be said and he hoped to the Gods that Jon would heed his advice.

 With Davos’ words burning in his ears and Brienne’s glare boring into his eyes, the flicker of guilt Jon had felt earlier grew and he could feel it burning through his body.  How depraved and sick must he be for even looking at Sansa in any way that was not brotherly, let alone some of the thoughts he had of her in those dark moments when he was alone and his hand was wrapped tight around his cock.

 He heard her laugh again and even as nausea over his earlier thoughts rose within him, he could feel his himself harden and his cock twitch, almost as if it responded to her voice, like a dog answering the call of his master.

 Jon stood abruptly, happy his tunic and the cloak he wore falling over the front of his body to hide his shame.  “I need air,” he mumbled to Davos before he turned abruptly away and strode out of the Great Hall.

 His feet carried him blindly through the halls of Winterfell until he found himself outside on the battlements.  It was cold, but his cloak and the fire that came with his shame and lust kept him warm.  Snow fell lazily down on him, sprinkling white flakes in his dark curls and touching his heated skin to only melt quickly.

 Jon did not know when these thoughts and feelings for Sansa began.  They were never close as children, different interests and Lady Catelyn ensuring their separation.  And if he was pressed, he would admit that he barely thought of Sansa during the years they were separated, definitely less than he did of Robb or Arya.  But that moment, when he saw her standing in the yard of Castle Black, when he thought he would never feel anything ever again after his resurrection, something inside of him sparked.  A warmth, a flame was ignited by the sight of her and it had grown steadily since.

 He would feel this need to seek her out, to assure himself of her safety.  He had this urge to lean into her to smell the sweet scent of her hair and skin. And his lips burned each time he drew back from a sweet chaste kiss placed on her forehead or her cheek.  

 No one could get under his skin like Sansa.  Their arguments were fiercer, louder than any he has had with anyone else.  But no one could also make him laugh and smile as she did, or soothe and comfort him in those moments when he thought of the enormity of what he had to do as the King of the North and the threat of the Others.  And no one has or ever could make his blood burn and his heart sing with a look or a touch.

 He knew what he was feeling.  He knew it was depraved and he thought he could hide it, relieving his urges in his chambers with hard strokes of his hand, but Davos words rang in his ears.  He had not been as successful as he thought he was in hiding his feelings and something would need to be done.

 But what?  He couldn’t simply kill his feelings or his thoughts.  The spent seed on his hands every day, sometimes several times of day, showed him how impossible that was.  Send Sansa away?  Never.  All she wanted was to be home and safe and he would slit his own throat before he would jeopardize her happiness and security.

 That only meant him leaving and soon that would happen as they amass their forces to meet the threat from the North.  He would only have to hold on until then, perhaps avoid Sansa. Maybe if they had less contact with each other-

 “There you are!”

 Jon closed his eyes briefly and silently cursed the Gods who obviously decided to torment Jon Snow for all his days by making him fall in love with his sister and then letting him have the ability to conjure her up just by thinking of her name.

 “Why did you leave the feast so abruptly?  Are you feeling well?”

 The wind had picked up and the snow began to fall more heavily.  Jon schooled his features into their usual sullen lines so she couldn’t see how a part of him was so happy to see her, and the other so terrified.  He turned to her to assure her he was well, but the words changed to something else when he saw her.

 “Are you daft, Sansa?” He barked out suddenly. “You’ll catch your death of cold!”

 Sansa had no cloak, only the thin grey woolen dress she had worn to the feast. The strong winds blew her skirts wildly and whipped the loose strands of her long, red hair around her face.  She was shivering and Jon could already see her lips paling with cold.  He tried to ignore the fact that the cold had also hardened the nipples of her breasts into sharp little points that pressed through the thin material of her dress.

 “I didn’t realize it would be so-, so cold out here.” Her teeth chattered and she crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to warm herself and blessedly covering those perky teats.

 Jon muttered a curse and shrugged off his cloak to wrap it snuggly around her.  His actions drew her closer and though they were of the same height and possibly Sansa slightly taller than he, she seemed to look up at him from lowered lashes.  

 “Jon, now you will freeze,” she murmured, her words coming out in puffs of white in the cold, but all he could feel was the moist heat of the words as they brushed his face.

 “I feel warm enough,” he replied softly as his hands rubbed her upper arms through his cloak, warming her up.

 “Jon, what’s wrong?  Why did you leave the feast?” she asked, looking him in the eye, a small flicker of worry in her blue ones.  “You left so quickly.  Did you feel ill?”

 Had anyone looked at him with so much concern for his well-being?  A woman who cared if he was ill, who made every piece of clothing he wore, even his small clothes, who took care to fuss over his wounds and to make certain he ate well and his hair and beard were trimmed neatly.  Jon could not think of ever being so cared and looked after before.

 It was not a sentiment men expressed and the women in his life had been so limited.  It was another reason he was so drawn to Sansa, the love and caring she offered to him, something he had not experienced before from a woman.  Lady Catelyn never showed it, Arya was too young and the type of woman Ygritte was and the situation they found themselves in did not present such opportunities even if the wildling was inclined to show them, which Jon, if he was honest, likely would not have. No, it’s only been Sansa who has ever done so and Jon never realized how starved for that type of affection he has been.

 “I’m fine,” he said in a slightly strangled voice. “It was just feeling close in the Hall. I wanted some air.”  He hesitated before adding, “And I needed to be away from some people.”

 He was referring to Davos’ words and Sansa herself, the temptation he was finding harder and harder to resist, but she took his words to mean something else.

 She nodded in understanding.  “Some of the banner men can be bores, especially after they’ve been in their cups.”  She shivered slightly and drew his cloak closer around her.  Automatically Jon’s arm came up to draw her closer to him to help warm her.  He nearly groaned aloud as she snuggled into his side and laid her head on his shoulder with a small, sad sigh.

 Something in how she said her words and the sigh set off alarm bells in Jon’s head.  Over the moons, just as he had reveled in her smiles and scent, he also had become quite attuned to the small inflections in her voice and the colors in her tone.

 “Was there something else?” He asked quietly, sensing a disquiet about her.

 Sansa sighed again. She began in a low voice, “Sometimes, in close quarters, around all those men…” Her voice trailed off and he could feel her struggle with her words.  “I just feel…scared.  Unsafe. When they try to touch me, even just to dance.  I…I feel as if I can’t breath and fear…”  She choked slightly on her words as if she was experiencing something frightening in that moment and she buried her face into the crook of his neck.

 Jon’s arms came around her and he hugged her fiercely to him.  “I will never, NEVER let anyone touch you again without you wishing it.  Tell me, did someone try anything? Behave improperly towards you? Say something? Because if they did, I’ll have their heads.”

 The words were all the more fierce and frightening for the low, calm and measured way he said them.  Jon could feel the anger clawing in his chest at the thought of someone threatening or frightening Sansa, and with him likely only steps away.

 Sansa shook her head, her face still buried in his neck. “No,” she said, her voice muffled. “No one.” She let out a watery laugh and pulled back to look in his face.  Her eyes looked suspiciously bright with unshed tears, but Jon said nothing. “I don’t think they would dare with Brienne next to me and you and Ghost glaring at them.”  Her face fell into sad lines.  “He still haunts me. It’s at odd moments that I’ll remember something and I’ll feel I’m back there again at his mercy.  I hate that he has that power over me where sometimes I can’t even feel safe in my own home and with my own people.”

 “What can I do, Sansa?  How can I make this right?” Jon asked in a desperate voice.

 She gave him one of her sad smiles, the ones he hated to see and pressed her forehead to his.  “You’re doing everything right now that I need.  I know I once told you no one could protect anybody, Jon, but know this, you make me feel safe.  And you’re the only man who’s touch doesn’t make me want to crawl away in fear and disgust. You do so much for me in so many ways and I don’t always stop to thank you for it.”  She pulled back to look at him and he missed the warmth of her skin immediately.  “I’m sorry about that.  I do appreciate it. I do see it and I do love you for it.”

 Jon gazed softly at her and his hands came up to frame her face.  “You don’t have to thank me for something you deserve to have. You deserve to be loved and cared for.  To have happiness and not be afraid.  And it is my duty and pleasure to give it to you, Sansa.”

 Sansa sighed and placed her head on his shoulder again. “When we were up here some moons ago you said we needed to trust each other.  I wasn’t certain if I was capable of that ever again.  But Jon, know there’s no one else in the world I trust more than you.”

 He simply drew her closer and they stared out into the night as the snow continued to fall around them.



Jon and Daenerys Spoiler

So according to the latest spoilers that just have been leaked, Jon and Dany will apparently have sex for the first time on a boat headed North in episode 7. Now if this is true I would like to allude you to the fact that Jon Snow is a very conservative type of guy, he’s definitely not the type of man who just randomly sleeps around with girls even if they’re attractive, in fact he completely turned down Melisandre back in season 5 saying that he couldn’t sleep with her since he was still in love with someone else (Ygritte) a person who he also has lost his virginity too. This here really shows how loyal and honorable Jon is, he definitely doesn’t strike me as type of guy who would just sleep with some girl who doesn’t have any sort of feelings for.

“He wasn’t the first to love you, and he won’t be the last.” -Tyrion to Daenerys (6x10)


Game of Thrones may not be a perfect adaptation, but I will always stand behind it as an incredible series, and one of the greatest pieces of Fantasy ever crafted.


“He remembered Robb as he had last seen him, standing in the yard with snow melting in his auburn hair. Jon would have to come to him in secret, disguised. He tried to imagine the look on Robb’s face when he revealed himself. His brother would shake his head and smile, and he’d say.. he’d say..”