that little smile on arya's face

4

Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell’s grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan’s stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow’s smile. He used to mess my hair and call me “little sister,” she remembered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes.

6

HOUSE STARK APPRECIATION WEEK: Day 7 - One Relationship
“And Arya… he missed her even more than Robb, skinny little thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and torn clothes, so fierce and willful. Arya never seemed to fit, no more than he had… yet she could always make Jon smile. He would give anything to be with her now, to muss up her hair once more and watch her make a face, to hear her finish a sentence with him.”

Most Beautiful: Jon Snow X Reader

And this one is dedicated to the famous and beautiful @restlessanawake who is really awesome! Go check them out! They were a massive help to me in setting up this blog. Hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: Pregnancy. Labor. Fluff overload ;)  One sex joke With him and the whole Stark clan, This is post White Walker War were all is good and Jon knows his parentage, but still goes by Jon Stark, or I guess goes at last. Things are almost too happy. But fear not no one dies.. Well…..Meh

Originally posted by gameofthronefannn

Originally posted by thatfunnyweirdindiechick

“Time to get up love.”

You groaned, pushing away the arms that were attempting to shake you awake and moved closer to the other side of the bed. “Jon.. Lemme sleep. Little Mister Stark would not stop kicking last night. I am surprised you couldn’t feel it actually.” You smirked and opened your eyes, hearing his laughter and he carefully turned you around as he echoed your smirk.

“I told you, my love. It will be a she.” You gave him judging eyes and he rolled his own gray ones, “Even our  Lady Sisters and Lady Aunt is on my side. As is Tyrion.”

“Well while that may be true, Bran is on my side and he has the sight.” She winked while forcing herself to stand slowly. “Speaking of your Aunt and Sister, when will the royal Queen and the Hand be visiting?”

He smiled, standing up so that he could help you while he continued, “Sansa and Tyrion promised to be here by nightfall, but you know the Queen. She said she would be here a fortnight ago… She will do her best to make it for the labor. And Arya, of course, must guard the Queen being the head of the Queen’s Guard.”

Your nine-months were up  and being a Stark, family was essential for all things. Holidays. Name-Days. Weddings. And pregnancies.

As though the stress of almost delivering a child was not enough, the anxiety that holding off the labor until everyone was present was madness. Jon, being around you enough, could tell.

“Fret not, Y/N.” He smiled, pressing his forehead yours and wrapping a robe dress around you for the day and kissed your nose, “They will be here. And now, we must break fast.”

No surprise to the couple, Bran was already down stairs, his plate full as he was working on his sister’s-in-law. Seeing them he stopped and blushed, wheeling towards the two slowly as Jon embraced his brother with a hearty laugh.

Brandon Stark was decreed Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King of the North, so the three of you were practically inseparable.

“How is the Lord Snow this morning, Y/N?” Bran smiled, wheeling towards her and placing his hands on her belly as Jon sat. “He get you any rest?”

“None.” Jon sighed from across the room, “She was kicking all night.”

This caused both you and Bran to laugh and Bran to say a small, “We shall see.” As the three of you began to eat your food.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A grand feast was the result of Lady Sansa and Lord Tyrion’s arrive, Jon and the imp drinking away while you, Sansa, and Bran sat across the hall, discussing matters of getting Bran married.

“What about the Mormont girl?” You suggested, “She supposedly has the beauty and wits of the Tyrell’s but the strength of her father’s name.”

“The Queens bastard?” Sansa raised her eyebrows, “She is an adventurous girl. Young though, don’t you think?”

Your sister in law had not left you alone since she arrived, her hand barely leaving your belly.

“Besides. I think our Bran has his eyes on the head of House Reed. Lady Meera, is it not?”

With the words of her name, Bran blushed and brushed it off, “Have you and Jon thought of a name?”

You nodded, “Well since he will not listen to me about the gender, I decided Eddard Robb will have to do.” Bran nodded, a bright grin taking away the blush on your face. Sansa gasped.

“I hate to agree with my Lord brother, I do believe that your babe is a girl.” She winked at you causing both of you to laugh as Jon and Tyrion came towards you guys, handing drinks to Bran and Sansa.

Jon broke the laughter, snaking an arm around your waist to your belly as he looked at Sansa and Tyrion, “When are you and the Hand planning to have children, sister?”

Sansa’s face fell and she set down her goblet, Tyrion taking her hand. “We are waiting.” Silence fell between them as they knew what he meant before Tyrion broke it, winking at the youngest Stark,  “We would like to see little Bran wed to the Reed girl first.” Bran blushed as everyone laughed mutter a small no stop as Jon kissed your cheek, then moved to your ear, his beard tickling her cheek.

“Bet it will happen by years end?”

“Please, by months end!” You smirked and he pepper kisses everywhere on your face, causing you to laugh.

“This is why I love you” He smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days had passed and you were still waiting on Dany and Arya. Maesters had demanded you bedridden, fearing labor would come any moment though nothing came for a week. Deciding this and seeing your husbands nerves at an all time high, you had forced him to go on a hunt with Tyrion and Bran, promising that Sansa and a hand maiden be at your side.

“I just want you out lil lord.” You groaned, rubbing sleet off your eyes as you had not gotten proper sleep in several days,(basically since Jon left, your baby had been especially persistent in moving all night) “Stop being so feisty like your father and his family.” You smirked at Sansa who laughed. “Where do you the Queen and her personal guard are?”

“You know Daenerys. “ She smiled sadly, rubbing your belly, “And Arya. Stubborn as mules those two.”

“Aye. That is one way to put it.”

Silence fell as you were both occupied as the baby leapt and kicked about the in your belly causing you to hum in attempt to calm him. When at last he stopped, you sighed and Sansa smiled, but only for a moment when you felt something wet between your legs.

Cursing, you looked at Sansa whose eyes twinkled.

“Do you think-”

“Sansa…” You bit your lip to stop you from swearing again, “Get Ghost. He will get Jon. And get the Hand Maiden… Hurry… Please…”

She ran, laughing gleefully and picking up her skirts hollering, “IT’S TIME! THE HEIR TO THE NORTH IS ON THE WAY!” And within minutes, servants came rushing in, dabbing your forehead with a cloth and offering you food and wine as others spread your legs open. All the while all you could do was scream bloody murder.

“I just want my husband!” You whined, “Gods!” You closed eyes and bit your lip to try to and stop tears from falling out of your eyes.

Then you felt the tickle of a beard on your chin and allowed yourself to cry tears of happiness and the man kissed your cheek and slowly wiped your tears away.

“Hush now love. You need to start pushing.”

“I-I-I-I can’t.”

“Yes you can.” He grabbed both her hands and brought them to her lips,”You are strong.. You can do this… I believe in you… Ready?”

You nodded opening your eyes to meet his dark grey (brown in show) ones.

“Ready.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You opened your eyes to see your family sitting in your room, Bran and Arya making small talk, Sansa talking to Jon on the other side and Tyrion discussing matters with the Queen herself.

“Morning love.” Jon said, moving towards you slowly, a swaddle of blankets in his arms. “You did marvelous love.” He kissed your cheek and helped you sit up, placing the bundle in your arms.

“ Who is this?” You smiled brightly as he moved back to the crib. “I was right, wasn’t I?”

“We were both right.” Jon smirked sitting by you on the bed with another bundle, “Eddard Robb and Catelyn Rose.”

“Twins.” You laughed happily, “Huh. Don’t remember that.”

Sansa laughed, kneeling beside you “Don’t see how you could. You were screaming bloody murder.”

“Honestly Y/N.” Arya piped in, “The Queen and I could hear you from outside.”

“Perhaps we will wait forever to have children, my lord husband.” Sansa added.

“She did have two.” The Queen herself added, “I would never imagine having two back to back.”

“You did have three dragons though, your grace.” You smiled, “Can’t imagine that.”

The Queen smiled, making her way towards you, kneeling beside you and looking down at the babe in your arms, “Dany or Daenerys please.. He is handsome, just like his father, and grandfather.”

“Lemme see!” Bran exclaimed, he rolling and Arya going to Jon. “She has dad’s hair. Mum’s eyes.”

“Opposite for him.” Sansa observed.

“Our perfect family.” She smiled at Jon who kissed her hair, bringing her in, “One boy. One girl. Perfect.”

Jon’s face fell, “What, so we can’t have anymore? Not even try?”

Laughter filled the room in a warm feeling as the world calmly faded to peace and laughter.

Nothing could be better and nothing could break their joy.

2

Playing with Hair

Jon Arya

“Jon grinned, reached over, and messed up her hair. Arya flushed. They had always been close.”

‘And Arya…he missed her even more than Robb, skinny little thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and torn clothes, so fierce and willful. Arya never seemed to fit, no more than he had…yet she could always make Jon smile. He would give anything to be with her now, to muss up her hair once more and watch her make a face, to hear her finish a sentence with him.”

“She would have given anything if Jon had been here to call her “little sister” and muss her hair.”

Sansa Sandor

Get her a dog, she’ll be happier with it”

Little Bird

While Sansa stays at Littlefinger’s home at the Fingers, she befriends an old blind guard dog. Recalling her dead direwolf, she says to the old dog, “I wish that you were Lady”.

Wolf Pups

Originally posted by floralandfangirl

Robb x Reader

AN: It’s a sort of AU


“Get of me you great beast!” You grumbled when the huge Dire-wolf clambered all over you before settling next to you with his head resting on your shoulder so his muzzle pressed into your cheek.

“He would leave you alone if you’d get up.” Robb muttered with a smirk plastered on his face, coming over to the bed so he could lean down and kiss you.

“Was it not you who promised I could sleep my handmaidens feared I had gone missing today?” You asked and stroked his cheek, smiling when he leant into your hand, his eyes falling shut for a moment before boisterous voices echoed through the halls.

Keep reading

4

Imagine: Your husband, Robb, seeing you teaching your daughter how to sword fight.

For: Anon

A/N: I made this kind of a playful sword fight and not like serious sword fighting lessons like the anon requested because they wanted the child to be like 5/6 and I feel like that’s too young to give a child a real sword lol.

You walk into the courtyard and see your 6-year-old daughter, holding a large stick and poking it in front of her, you laugh as you approach her, “What are you doing sweetheart?”

“Sword fighting like father!” She says cheerfully. She pauses for a moment to think and then she adds with a sullen expression, “Is it okay for me to fight mother?”

“Of course my love, why wouldn’t it be?”

“The boys were laughing at me, they said girls don’t fight.”

“Those boys don’t know anything darling!” You take her little cheeks into your hands and smile at her, “Just look at your Aunt Arya, she’s probably a better fighter than Uncle Jon and your father combined!”

She giggles at your comment, “Will you fight with me mother?”

“Of course love!” She passes you another stick and points hers at your chest.


Robb’s POV

I was walking across the balcony when I hear a high-pitched giggle coming from below me. I lean over the balcony and see my young daughter, holding a stick, and advancing towards my wife, who in turn was lying on with a look of faux-fear on her face.

“Please Lady Y/D/N, have mercy!” Y/N cries, I laugh and rush down the stairs, grabbing another stick off the ground.

I jump in front of Y/N, “If you want my wife you’ll have to get through me first!”

Y/D/N laughs again and lunges towards me, somehow managing to knock my stick out of my hand, “Wow darling, your mother has been teaching you well!”

She smiles proudly, before dropping her stick and putting her hands in the air, wanting me to pick her up. I pull her up into my arms, and then turn to Y/N, helping her up off the ground.

Y/D/N gives both of us a kiss on the cheek each, and I’ve I feel more than thankful for having such a beautiful wife and an amazing daughter.

End.

Masterlist // Rules List // To-Do List

The Bastard of Winterfell

Jon Snow x Reader (second person)

1586 words

Jon Snow is nervous to meet his future wife- and even more nervous to prove himself in front of her.

A/N: My first fanfic in a while! I just watched Game of Thrones and LOVED it, so expect some GoT soon, especially Robb and Jon, my babies.

F/N= first name, L/N= last name


You shifted in your seat, pretending to be asleep as you listened to your parents whisper back and forth.

“A bastard,” you mother muttered, the word like venom on her lips.

“Ned Stark’s bastard,” your father reminded her gently. In your mind’s eye you could see the desperation in his eyes.

“She is a lady!”

Your father sighed. “She is the youngest of nine daughters in a small house. She has limited options. It’s either marry her off to some old lord who is on his seventh wife who will use her for her body, or the son of a good man who will, Gods willing, treat her with compassion.”

Your mother hummed, her arms probably crossed across her chest. “He’s still a bastard.”

You knew your father was right. It was good of Ned Stark to arrange your marriage. When he heard your father was desperately trying to find a match for his youngest, favorite daughter, Lord Stark had an unusual proposal. One your father simply couldn’t refuse.

It was even Lord Stark’s idea to have you stay at Winterfell for a few months so you could get to know your future husband; you’d only met once or twice as children when you visited Winterfell. You remembered Jon Snow being quiet and brooding; you wondered what kind of man he’d grown into.

Your eyes opened as Winterfell came into sight. At least you could find comfort in the fact that the beautiful Stark castle would be your home.

Ned Stark stood at the gate, a friendly smile on his face. He embraced you and your parents, offering you a small wink. Your stomach was in absolute knots.

He led you through the gate, where his family lined up to greet you.

Robb Stark, the most charming young man in the North, kissed your hand. He often accompanied his father to visit your home and was always kind to you. At least you would have an ally in your brother by law.

“Lady F/N,” he said with that dashing smile. “Your beauty has grown since we last met. I had assured my brother that his bride-to-be was lovely, but I must admit, my words did you no justice.”

You blushed. “Thank you, Lord Robb.” You continued down the line to the very end where-

“L-Lady F/N.” A pair of nervous brown eyes searched yours. “A pleasure to see you again.” Jon Snow glanced towards his brother, who gave him an encouraging nod. Jon kissed your hand gently. “I, er, look forward to getting better acquainted.” A pause. “With you.” Another pause. “My lady,” he added quietly.

A small smile escaped your lips. Jon Snow had grown to be a handsome young man, with curly black hair you wanted to reach out and touch. Though Robb’s confidence was definitely attractive, there was something sweet to Jon’s nervousness. You liked it.

“I seem to recall a young dark-haired boy who was never without his sword,” you said, noting that he still held your hand. “Do you still practice the whole day long?”

Now Jon smiled, a small, shy grin. “Indeed, I do.”

Down the line, Robb piped up. “Perhaps after lunch you would like to watch us practice, my lady?”

You nodded. “I would like that very much,” you called back. You turned back to Jon. “If that’s fine with you, that is.”

Jon nodded. “Very fine, my lady.”

“Good.” You gave his hand a small squeeze and released it before following Lady Stark to your room.

As you entered the castle, you glanced back. Jon was standing in the same spot, staring after you, as Robb chattered excitedly in his ear.


You sat beside Jon at lunch, noticing that he barely looked at you. Your stomach sank. Across from you, Robb cleared his throat.

“So, my lady, what do you do with your free time?

You looked up at Robb, who stared at Jon pointedly.

“Oh. I read. I ride. Some needlework.” You looked down the table at the eldest Stark sister. “Though I have heard Lady Sansa’s needlework is true art. Perhaps she could help me improve my own?”

Lady Sansa smiled graciously. “I would love to.”

You turned your gaze to the younger sister. “And Lady Arya, I would love to learn to shoot properly, if you have the time. I have been told your skill surpasses that of any of your brothers.”

The girl’s face lit up. “I would love to!”

Good. More allies in your new home.


After lunch, Jon excused himself to grab something from his room, promising to meet you and Robb in the yard.

Robb offered you his arm as you headed out. “I apologize for my brother, Lady F/N. He… well honestly he is a little scared of you.” A small smile played on his lips. “Not that I can blame him. You are, after all, his future wife.”

You nodded. “I must admit, I’m nervous as well. I barely know him.” You smiled at Robb. “But if he’s anywhere near as kind as you and your sisters, I know I will be very happy here.”

Robb nodded. “Aye, he is. A bit… glum, at times. But very kind,” he assured you. “And before lunch he admitted to me that you are the loveliest creature he ever laid eyes on.”

You felt yourself blush. You opened your mouth to reply-

“What’s this I hear the bastard is marrying himself a lady?” a voice called out.

You and Robb turned as a lanky young man approached you. His eyes traveled up and down your body.

Robb sighed. “This is Theon Greyjoy, our ward. Theon, this is Lady F/N L/N. Jon’s intended.”

Theon’s eyes had yet to find your face. “Hello my lady,” he finally said, the kiss he planted on your hand lingering far too long. “I am looking forward to getting to know you.”

You took a step back. “Thank you.” A mop of curly black hair caught your eye. “But if you will excuse me, I believe I see my future husband.” You broke away from Theon and took Jon’s arm. “Jon, I am very excited to see how well you wield a sword.” You smiled sweetly at him.

He looked a bit taken aback. “Really?”
You nodded. “Really.” You gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.

Theon spoke up. “I’ve an idea.” You and the brothers turned to look at him. “A duel. You and me, Snow. Winner gets a kiss from your little lady here.”

The color rose in Jon’s cheeks. “I-”

“What the matter?” Theon challenged. “Scared I’ll kiss your bride before you do?”

Jon glanced at you. You could tell he did not want to back down in front of you. “Fine. Grab your sword.”

Robb led you out to the yard, helping you perch yourself on a fence. “Not to worry, my lady. Jon is a fantastic swordsman. Your lips are in safe hands.” He smiled at you and lowered his voice. “And make sure to cheer him on. He’s always wanted a pretty girl cheering him on in a duel.”

You laughed. “I’ll be sure to cheer him on to victory.”

The two young men came out, ready for combat. Jon glanced your way. You smiled and gave a small wave.

“Good luck Jon!” you called out. A smile tugged on your future husband’s lips.

“Nicely done,” Robb murmured beside you. “I do believe my brother is blushing.”

You giggled in response. You could definitely feel yourself falling for the bastard of Winterfell as you watched him wield his sword. He looked confident and strong as he swung his weapon this way and that.

“Go Jon!” you called out, clapping.

He turned his head to look at you, a proud smirk on his handsome face. Theon took the opportunity to take a cheap hit, knocking Jon to the ground. He held his sword to Jon’s throat.

“I do believe I win, Snow,” he claimed smugly. He sauntered over to you. “And now for my prize.”

You grimaced and looked to Robb, who looked at shocked as you felt.

“That was a cheap shot,” Robb finally choked out. “You know in a fair fight Jon would have slaughtered you. He was nervous in front of F/N!”

Theon shrugged. “That’s life, m'lord.” He turned to you. “My prize.”

You looked at Jon, who still lay on the ground, looking utterly defeated. You could feel the embarrassment radiating from him.

“Here’s your damned prize,” you muttered. You barely brushed your lips against Theon’s cheek, then jumped down from your post. You walked over to Jon, who slowly sat up as you approached.

“I-I’m sorry, my lady,” he muttered. “If I hadn’t gotten distracted-”

You smiled as you knelt beside him. “I’m glad you got distracted.” You took his hand in yours as he looked at you, puzzled. “You getting distracted by me was the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

A small smile appeared on his lips. “Really?”

You nodded. “You know, I think second place deserves a prize too.”

Jon’s eyebrows rose. “Oh you do?” He glanced behind you at the other boys, who looked just as surprised.

“I do.”

You leaned down and pressed your lips gently against his. You could feel his smile pressing against yours as his hand rose to pull you closer. He finally let you go and pulled back. A large smile spread across his face.

“I think I’m gonna like being married,” he murmured before leaning in for another kiss.


Part 2

Arranged Marriage (Robb Stark)

Robb Stark knew that as the heir to Winterfell he was eventually going to have to be wed. When that time comes he couldn’t be more happy with his fathers choice.

Word Count: 1897

This is my first ever GoT one-shot/short story so if it’s rubbish…I’m sorry! Mostly from Robb’s POV. The female character is referred to as (Y/N). (Which I don’t usually write so once again…Sorry if it’s not the best.) (Not my Gif)

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Jaqen H'ghar falling in love with you would include :

(Woooo more prompts! Woooo Jaqen!! Hope it is as requested and you all like it :3 Gif not mine/found it on google/credit to the original owners.)

-Him being intrigued by you and constantly asking you for your help in order to stay around you as long as he can

-Him starting to realize that most of his actions to you are all from his heart rather than from the Many Face God

-Him asking you for more and more personal favors and slowly just loving how kindhearted you are to always help him out

-Him enjoying to keep his eyes on you from afar, especially when he sees you smiling and having fun

-Him getting quiet whenever you would notice one of his injuries and take care of him, only to end up staring at you

-Him offering you flowers and some little gifts whenever you would help him, as a return of favor, only for it to slowly turn into something he does regularly for you

-Him getting Arya to tell him more about what she knows about you because he knows how much you trust the young girl

-Him hoping you won’t ever look at any other man but ending up convincing himself he can’t be with you and that he must let you go and be happy

-Him always coming in the right time to keep you safe, only to subtly ask you if you are alright while clearly showing his concern

-Him confessing his feelings for you but making it seem so intriguing that you’re not too sure until he presses his lips to yours

4

— “It’s just a sword,” she said, aloud this time… but it wasn’t. Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell’s grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan’s stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow’s smile. He used to mess my hair and call me “little sister,” she remembered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes.


(…) The Many-Faced God can have the rest, she thought, he can’t have this.

On Jon Snow and his siblings

I think people tend to generalize and compartmentalize Jon’s love for his siblings as one single category, which is: he loves them all equally. This is not true; Jon is not a perfect character, he’s not a perfect brother, and he has good and valid reasons to have more affection for some of his siblings over the other.

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HOW I WANT THE GENDRYA REUNION TO GO...what if

What if when Arya reunited with Gendry is when she doesn’t know Jon and the party have made it back to Winterfell? Like maybe she was gone in the Wolfswood for half the day and then when she returns she looks like an amazing warrior queen on top of a horse with needle on her hip and she doesn’t realise they’re home. So when she goes to greet Sansa and Bran in the great Hall she stops dead in her tracks as she sees Jon. And at first all she sees is Jon and they’re staring at each other in bewilderment. She’s in her breeches and her hair is messy and Jon looks regal af. Then he whispers ‘Arya’ and then they’re both rushing toward each other and Arya just falls into her big brothers embrace because she’s a little girl who finally has a pack. Jon cries, of course and everyone is oddly humbled to see their king cry for his long lost sister. Then he’ll grab her face and just stare at her. He’ll say something along the lines of “you’re so beautiful” with a bright smile and she’ll believe him because he’s Jon. The most trustworthy man she’s ever known. Then someone whispers her name and she’ll see Gendry. Standing off to the side, dressed as a Lord and looking as regal as Jon. They’ll just stare at each other for a while and then he’ll go
“M'lady”
“M'lord” she would reply because she’s Arya, he’ll look her up and down and a slight blush will appear on his face.
“You look good” he’ll say, everyone is either watching on with curiosity or awe. Seeing these two people who look exactly like Robert and Lyanna converse is something mesmerising.
“You look like a lord” she’d reply. Jon, Sansa and Bran would just be smirking between each other because they know.
“I think I am one now” he’d say, they’d share a small laugh. Then they’d become serious again.
“I’m glad you’re not dead” she’d reply with a small smile. He’d bow and grin at her.
“I’m glad you’re not dead either” he’d breathe out and then they’d just stare at each other for a moment. Until someone clears their throats and Arya is being whisked away by Sansa to change for the feast.

I just want them to fucking interact with each other! Like come on!!! Is that so much to ask for?!? Can someone just write a fanfic of this for me? That’s as good as it’ll get!

2

Jon Snow meme 
—> One ship (friend/romantic/familial)

And Arya… he missed her even more than Robb, skinny little thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and torn clothes, so fierce and willful. Arya never seemed to fit, no more than he had… yet she could always make Jon smile. He would give anything to be with her now, to muss up her hair once more and watch her make a face, to hear her finish a sentence with him.

fashi0nmistake  asked:

The writing prompt meme- #50 "I’m starting an idiot jar. Any time you do or say anything idiotic, you have to put at least a dollar in it—more depending on how stupid the thing that you said or did was.” The Starklings. It's such a sibling prompt!

“What? It’s a great idea!”

“Robb, it’s a terrible idea! Mom doesn’t even like hockey,” Sansa protested.

Her older brother looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Of course she likes hockey! She has never missed a single game any one of us has played in unless two of us were playing at the same time in different rinks! She’s been to more games than Dad, Sansa!”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “OK. She doesn’t like hockey unless one or more of you idiots are playing. This isn’t just Dad’s anniversary! Stanley Cup playoff tickets are a terrible anniversary gift.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re the only person in this family who never played, Sansa! You probably want to send them to the dumb old ballet!” nine year old Rickon protested.

“No, I don’t,” Sansa said, in a voice alarmingly like their mother’s when her patience was nearly at an end. “I’m perfectly well aware that Dad has no interest in the ballet unless I’m dancing.”

“Well, ballet’s boring,” Rickon pronounced, making a face that had Robb, Jon, and Bran all laughing in spite of Sansa’s glaring at them.

“I hate all of you!” Sansa exclaimed as she dramatically turned causing her hair to swish around her shoulders and flounce out of the room. 

From her perch on the back of the couch by the window, Arya sighed. She’d never admit it to a living soul, but she did envy her sister’s ability to do that kind of stuff with her hair, even if Sansa was acting like a baby.

They were all acting like babies. Stupid babies.

Before she could mention that to them, however, Robb turned on Rickon. “Nice going, kid!” he said sarcastically. “Now she’d bailed on us!”

“You laughed!” Rickon protested, throwing his empty Coke can at Robb’s head.

Robb ducked of course, and the can, which apparently wasn’t entirely empty, hit the wall behind him, splattering Coke on a portrait of their family taken on a vacation to the beach about seven years ago. Their mother loved that picture.

“Nice,” Arya said, swinging her legs over the back of the couch and standing up. “You all are just brilliant. We’ve all been saving money for a damn year, and now that it’s time to actually plan this thing, we’ve talked for an hour, decided nothing, chased off Sansa, and gotten coke all over Mom’s favorite picture.

As Robb and Rickon both started to protest, Arya spoke over them. “Robb, go get Sansa back here. I know she’s bossy, but she listens to you more than the rest of us, and does anybody think we can actually plan this without her?”

She looked around the room at her siblings and cousin. Nobody actually disputed that statement. “Go on, Robb!” she said when he didn’t move. “Grovel if you have to, but get her back here.”

“Rickon’s the one who pissed her off!” Robb protested. 

Arya loved her oldest brother, she truly did. He was a wonderful guy. But sometimes when he felt angry or unjustly accused, he could be the biggest baby of all of them. “Yeah. And he’s NINE. Your twenty. Suck it up, Robb. You all laughed, and it was your dumb suggestion that we send Mom and Dad to the playoffs as our gift which got Sansa riled up in the first place. Besides,” she turned to glare at her youngest brother, and the smirk he’d been directing at Robb disappeared immediately. “Rickon has to go get a rag and clean his damn mess. None of us will be alive to give Mom and Dad anything if Mom sees that picture that like that!”

Rickon, fully aware that he couldn’t escape responsibility for the Coke can incident and with no desire to end up on the receiving end of the wrath of Catelyn Stark (in spite of the fact that Mom tended to let him skate more often than anyone because he was the BABY), scampered toward the kitchen in search of cleaning supplies immediately. 

Robb made a face at her that caused him to look alarmingly like Rickon, but he then agreed to go in search of their sister, muttering under his breath as he went. “And she calls SANSA bossy!”

“Well?” Arya asked as Bran and Jon stared at her in silence. 

“Well what?” Bran asked.

“Well where do you two think we should send them?” she asked in exasperation. These two had contributed very little to the discussion so far, although to be fair, neither had she–except to give them an update on their general budget. 

Even the older kids agreed that fifteen year old Arya was the best of all of them at math, so while Robb had opened the bank account last year because only he and Jon were over eighteen and could do it without their parents’ knowledge, Arya had managed it. The others had given her their contributions and she’d made deposits with Robb’s permission and kept track of the balance. Considering that only Jon, Robb, and Sansa had jobs–and they weren’t exactly full time or well-paying, they’d managed to collect quite a sum over the past year. Arya herself had done some math tutoring to raise money. She’d even babysat a few times, which was torture. Of course, she’d never tell the others that the primary way she’d managed to make her contributions almost as big as those of the older three was by giving Gendry money to bet on various sports events. First of all, she wasn’t supposed to still be seeing him and she didn’t want Dad to murder him, and second of all, Dad would likely murder HER if he found out she was gambling. Even for a good cause.

“They’re not really my parents, Arya,” Jon mumbled. “I really think you five should …”

“And THAT has got to be the stupidest thing of all the stupid things said in here so far today!” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “You’ve practically lived here your whole life, Jon, and you gave the most money out of anybody! You get a vote!”

“I didn’t put money in to get a vote,” Jon said almost sullenly. “I did it because Uncle Ned and Aunt Cat have given me pretty much everything I have.”

“They love you, Jon,” Bran insisted. “You’re as much their kid as any of us.”

Jon nodded a bit, but he didn’t smile, and under his breath he muttered something like “But they never had to do that” which caused Arya to roll her eyes again.

She adored Jon. It was almost funny because even though he wasn’t technically her brother, his was the face that came first to her mind if anyone asked if she had a favorite sibling. After all, he’d been the one who convinced her mother to not only allow her to play hockey, but to let her play on the boys’ team. But if Robb could drive her crazy sometimes with his belief that things were always supposed to go his way, Jon could make her equally nuts with his insistence on martyrdom at times.

“Seriously, boys, we’ve got enough to give them a really nice vacation somewhere. Not airfare, but Grandpa Hoster said he’d kick that in so we need to come up with something great.”

“What about Disney World?” Bran asked. “They both said that was a great trip when we all went three years ago.”

“Because we were all there,” Jon said. “It was a great family trip, but neither of your parents cared much about most of the rides. I think for just the two of them, maybe someplace else will be better.”

Bran frowned. “But what will they do anywhere without all of us there? I mean … they never go anywhere without us–except for Dad’s work trips. Won’t they get bored?”

Arya met Jon’s eyes and both of them tried mightily not to laugh. Bran was thirteen, old enough and smart enough to understand what went on between men and women, but still young enough to be completely oblivious to the idea of their parents as anything other than just their parents. Heck, she was fifteen and had a not-so-secret much older not-a-boyfriend and still didn’t like to think too closely about what went on in Mom’s and Dad’s bedroom when the door was locked, but she had no doubts they wouldn’t get bored on a kid-free vacation!

“They won’t get bored, Bran,” Jon said. “They do like each other, you know.” He laughed just a bit and reached over to ruffle Bran’s hair. 

Bran blushed then. “I know that!” he sputtered. “I just meant … I just …”

“Don’t worry, Bran,” Arya laughed. “It wasn’t even close to the stupidest suggestion we’ve had.”

“What about you, Bossy?” Robb asked as he came back into the family room, followed by a still pouting Sansa. “What brilliant ideas do you have?”

“I don’t know,” Arya said. “But it should be someplace they would both like. So no hockey. And no ballet.”

“I never said …” Sansa started.

“I know you never said ballet,” Arya interrupted quickly. “I’m just trying to make a point. Nothing that just Dad loves or just Mom loves. It has to be something they love together. What do they both love?”

“Me!” Rickon offered with a grin as he walked back in with glass cleaner and a rag. 

Everyone laughed. “Well, yes, Rickon,” Bran said. “We’ve already established that Mom and Dad love all of us, but this trip is just for the two of them.”

Before Arya and Jon could even cover their smiles at Bran’s about-face on couples trips, Rickon grinned more widely. “I didn’t say us,” he said, sticking a tongue out at Bran. “I said me. They only had all you losers trying to get a kid as awesome as me! That’s why they stopped once they got perfection!”

“You wish!” Bran told him, pulling the little cushion he kept behind his back in his wheelchair out and flinging at at the youngest Stark. Of course, he hit a vase which fell to the floor and broke instead.

“I’m not cleaning that!” Rickon announced.

“Could everyone refrain from doing anything stupid for longer than five minutes?” Arya asked in frustration.

Jon, who’d been standing closest to the vase, bent to start picking up the pieces.

“They both like the country as opposed to big cities,” Sansa said. “I mean, Mom likes the city, but Dad hates it. And even Mom is happier surrounded by green.”

That was actually a useful observation. Sansa really was good at this stuff. Even if she was constantly in other people’s business and wasn’t as perfect as everybody thought. “That’s good, Sans,” Arya said. “What else?”

“Water,” Robb offered. “Mom loves being on the water. And Dad does, too, as long as it’s not too hot. No place tropical.” 

“But warm enough to swim,” Jon put in, having somehow dispatched Rickon to fetch a broom and dustpan without making a fuss or raising a protest from the kid. “Aunt Cat loves to swim, and Uncle Ned loves watching her do it.”

“Eww!” Robb protested. “That’s my mother you’re talking about Jon.”

“Yeah, I know. And it’s obvious your dad thinks she’s the hottest woman around every time he looks at her, and this IS an anniversary trip.”

“Just shut up already, Jon,” Robb said, getting a bit red in the face.

One look at Jon told Arya that wasn’t going to happen. Jon and Robb were almost exactly the same age and had been closer than any real twins their whole lives, but they did love to aggravate each other. With a wicked gleam in his grey eyes, he said, “We definitely need to make sure the hotel room is really nice–in case they never leave it.”

Robb flew at Jon and tackled him. Thankfully, nothing fell to the floor except the two of them, and neither of them was truly angry so they just wrestled for a moment with Jon laughing so hard the whole time that Robb finally couldn’t help laughing as well. “Idiot,” he muttered, as he stood up to let Jon off the floor. “Just shut up about my parents’ sex lives, okay? Five times. That’s all I’ve got to acknowledge, man. Five times.”

Of course, that comment caused Sansa, Arya, and even Bran to dissolve into laughter until Rickon finally asked, “Five times what? And you’re not supposed to talk about sex. Big Walder Frey got sent to the principal’s office for talking about sex to some girl on the playground. She called him a dirty liar and told the teacher!”

That stopped the laughter pretty quickly. 

“Hey, bud,” Robb said, going to put an arm around Rickon. “Whatever that Frey kid says about anything is probably wrong.” Arya was honestly quite impressed at how quickly he’d gone from total dork into mature responsible big brother mode.

Rickon looked up at Robb a moment, as if considering his words. “Yeah. He lies a lot,” he said finally. “Is it true that …”

“Later, Rickon,” Robb interrupted with only the slightest hint of red returning to his cheeks. “Ask me later. Or better yet, ask Dad.”

“Please,” Arya said. “We need to stick to the topic at hand. Mom and Dad will be home soon, and who knows when we’ll get everybody here at once and them gone again. So no more acting like idiots. Are we all good with finding someplace in the country–on a lake maybe?”

“With a great big bed …” Jon mumbled, before bursting into laughter again.

Normally, Arya loved seeing Jon’s playful, teasing side, but as Robb punched him hard in the arm, and Rickon looked as if he were trying very hard to puzzle something out, she’d had enough. “That’s it! I’m starting an idiot jar. Any time you do or say anything idiotic, you have to put at least a dollar in it—more depending on how stupid the thing that you said or did was.”

“Hear, hear!” said Sansa. She turned and pulled a little basket down off one of the shelves. “This will do for now,” she said. “We can get an official jar later. Now, let’s get this trip planned.”

All the boys adopted serious expressions, and everyone who’d been standing found places to sit. Arya looked gratefully at her sister. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d wanted so much to just hug Sansa.

“The mountains,” Robb said. “Dad likes mountains, and it doesn’t get too warm there ever. But as long as it gets sunny and warm at all during the day, Mom will swim. You know her.”

“Yes!” Sansa nearly squealed. “And there are places with warm springs. I bet I could find someplace like that! And they could take long walks and go hiking and watch sunsets and have breakfast in bed and …”

Arya smiled as Sansa waxed poetic about the ideal vacation spot for Mom and Dad. The others actually all looked pretty excited now as she talked about it, and Arya had every confidence that their sister would get on-line and find a real-life place that wasn’t too far from the image in her head now that it seemed they’d agreed on a general idea. 

Maybe she’d keep the idiot jar (or basket), though. With this bunch, she could likely raise enough to do a vacation for the entire family next in no time at all. 

Untitled Clone Fic

@thefreelancerdivision, I haven’t been ignoring you!!!! I just saw your post about chubby clones and the clones not being fed enough and somehow it took me all day to write this!!!!! So I guess this is for you!!!! :)

They had no idea how it had come to this.

One moment the they were being reamed out, and the next thing they knew one shiny was passed out on the floor and a tiny blonde woman was giving the mongrel officer what for.

Vid couldn’t believe his eyes, and he was almost positive no one else would believe him either.

He and his brothers had been requested to guard a small gathering of senators on Coruscant- at the request of Senator Organa. The senator had greeted them warmly and thanked them for agreeing to be the protection detail. He had told the clones that if needed they were welcome to some refreshments.

The mongrel officer who insisted on leading the security detail then turned around and snapped that the clones weren’t to touch anything…and if they did their rations would be cut. One of the shinies had broken that rule when Senator Amidala insisted he try some, and as a result, they were denied nightly and morning rations.

The poor nameless shiny almost cried, looking at his batchmates, apologetically.

The older clones were used to this from the mongrel officers-being refused food. Sometimes the mongrels would pick a trooper and pick on him and refuse him food until it got critical. The shinies weren’t just yet. They hadn’t learned to hide portions of their rations away for times like these. It showed when the same shiny who’d gotten in trouble the night before collapsed from hunger.

The mongrel had moved to kick the shiny in the head when he found himself being levitated off the ground.

Vid and his brothers had spun around to see the tiniest little woman with her arm outstretched.

Vid was taken back by how angry she looked. Her eyebrows were pinched together, lips pulled into a tight line, and eyes practically burning with intensity. In armor reminiscent of their own, she walked forward, slowly before demanding to know what was going on.

Her voice was soft, but hard, clearly showing that she was not in a joking mood.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but put me down! I’ll have you arrested for this-” the mongrel tried to argue.

“My name is Commander Arya Clarke, padawan of the Jedi Order….and who do you think you are, attempting to kick a man while he’s down?” she responded, not lowering her hand for a moment.

Things made a bit more sense to Vid now. He’d heard of Jedi, even saw a few while stationed on Coruscant, but he’d never seen this woman before. He’d never seen a Jedi wear armor so similar to the clones own, and he certainly had never seen a Jedi use the Force like that.

He watched as she set the mongrel down, standing over the poor shiny like a guardian angel.

Arya turned to Vid and said, “You, tell me your name than tell me what happened here.”

“CT-8925, mam-”

“That’s not what I asked, trooper. Call me Arya, not ‘mam.”

“…name’s Vid, ma-Arya. The shiny hasn’t eaten in three standard days-”

“And why the kark not?!”

“…he was being punished,” Vid sighed. “Kid took some food Senator Amidala offered him and Officer Tak told us that if we ate any our rations would be cut. Kid broke the rules, so Tak’s been withholding all of our rations. Kid was starving and passed out. It’s really not that big of a deal-”

“Yes. Yes, it is. Officer Tak, was it? This is inexcusable. Under no circumstances is starving your troops an appropriate punishment, especially when they’ve done nothing wrong! If this trooper was offered food by the senator, than he hasn’t stolen anything,” Arya snapped, turning her angered gaze onto the mongrel officer.

The mongrel didn’t know how to respond other than to splutter and try to defend himself. However, the small woman gave him little chance to respond. She simply sent him a withering glare before looking at the troopers.

“Vid, please take your brother to the med bay. The rest of you, report to the mess immediately. You need to eat and you need to eat now. Triple the rations you intake. The amount they give you on Kamino and around here is appalling!” Arya said. “I will deal with Officer Tak here.”

“You’re just a padawan! And what do you know about what these clones can handle-”

“Oh, I’M SORRY! Are YOU a battle certified medic? Are YOU a Jedi healer? Do YOU know how fast their metabolism burns compared to the average human male and that what we’re giving them is woefully inadequate to keep up with aforementioned metabolism? I had NO idea!”

“You-You-You’re still can’t just barge in here and take my men-”

“I do believe I rank higher than you, Officer-”

“You still have no right-You’re only a padawan, not a Jedi!”

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

Vid and his brothers simply looked at one another before Tapout made a shooing gesture. Vid nodded and bolted off with his little brother, leaving Tapout, their batcher Inkstop, and the two remaining shinies. Tapout and Inkstop looked to see a young Twi-Lek woman approaching, flanked by three men with bright green painted armor, reminiscent of the Twi’Lek’s skin color. The saber clipped to her waist clearly showed she was a Jedi. Lively brown eyes looked between the padawan and the officer currently shouting at each other. Her tattooed lekku were wrapped around her neck, a beautiful smile on her face.

“Hello, lil Arya! How have you been darling?” she said, placing her hand on the young human woman’s shoulder.

“HE is my problem! He’s been starving his troopers until they drop!” Arya snapped. “Zehra, he can’t do this!”

The Twi’Lek’s expression turned cold upon those words as she turned on the mongrel officer. She smiled widely, saccharinely sweet as she responded with, “Well, we’ll just have to speak with his superiors about this, won’t we padawan?”

She turned to the troopers behind her.

“Tracer, Wash, Sylv, why don’t you escort these boys to the mess?” she said. “Make sure those boys eat! They’re much too thin.”

“Yes, General Karga! C’mon boys, the general and commander will sort this out,” the biggest of the group said.

His paint curled in lines around his arms and shoulders. His two brothers were slightly smaller than him, but both much larger than Inkstop, Tapout or the other two brothers.

Inkstop looked at Tapout before the large trooper said, “Name’s Sylv. These are my boys Tracer and Wash. It’s time to get some food in the lot of you.”

The two shinies looked at Inkstop and Tapout hopefully before looking back at Sylv.  Inkstop and Tapout simply nodded and decided to follow Sylv.

As the group walked away from the two Jedi and officer, Tapout asked Sylv why the commander seemed so upset.

“Commander Clarke? Oh, she wasn’t kidding when she said she’s a Jedi healer and combatives medic,” Sylv chuckled. “She takes her job very seriously. You guys are seriously underfed.  When we get to the mess, Clarke’s gonna make sure you get triple of what you were eating before.”

“…We-we’re underfed?” a soft voice, one of the shinies, broke in. “B-B-But we were eating about the same size portions as on Kamino.”

“Yeah, don’t get Ar’ika started on the Long Necks. She will never stop once she gets going,” Wash laughed. “They weren’t feeding us nearly what we needed back on Kamino. Ar’ika can explain it better.”

“So…we’re going to get more food?” asked the other shiny.

“Yup! C’mon kid,” Tracer said, throwing an arm around a shiny.

The group made their way down to the mess, happy and laughing soon to be joined by two Jedi- a bright and happy Twi’Lek and a grumpy, shouty, blonde Mandalorian.

Joke Close to Home

Anonymous asked: Hi! Can I request something were Starkreader is with Arya and Sandor on the way to the Twins and Sandor starts joking with Arya that Robb will make him a lord for rescuing them and Arya says something like “you hate lords why do you want a lordship, is it so you can marry my sister” and both reader and Sandor get awkwardly cute about it Arya finds it weird but also hilarious

Here you go, lovely! I do not own Sandor or Arya. They belong to George R.R.Martin. 

Warnings: Fluff and awkwardness

Pairings: Sandor Clegane x fem!Stark reader, Arya Stark. 

Originally posted by flameghosts

Sandor couldn’t help but feel a small sense of relief. You were getting close to the Twins now. Soon he’d been rid of the Stark girl. Arya Stark annoyed him to no end. Then, there was you. Over the time you’d spent together, you had grown on Sandor. You didn’t irritate him as much as your sister did. In fact, Sandor found he could tolerate you more than he could anyone else.

               "How much longer until we reach the Twins?“ Arya asked for the third time in two days. You could tell she was growing impatient. Then again, so were you. You had been away from your mother and brothers for far too long. “Three days, maybe a week,” Sandor told Arya in his usual gruff manner. Arya’s lip protruded in a pout and you stifled a giggle. “Come on, Arya. We’ll be home soon. Think of this as just another adventure like the ones you loved for Old Nan to tell you.”

Keep reading

Jon and Sansa in the late hours, evading sleep and sharing stories.

He turns in his bed for the umpteenth time, searching for sleep but sleep evades his grasp. His eyes are heavy with fatigue but he can’t bring himself to close his eyes. There is only darkness and shadows that dance beneath his eyelids. Sleep is strangely similar to death. The silence, the nothingness, the end of all existence and thought. The moment he sleeps, he is dead once more.  There are no colours, no dreams, none of those things exist for dead men.

He tries to push all thoughts of death and nothingness out of his mind but the thoughts are relentless, they creep through the cracks in his mind, slipping in just like winter. He squeezes his eyes, desperate for something, anything truly. He wishes he knew what it was that he wanted but his desires and wants are unknowable to him. He does not know if it is because death has stolen his memories of all human desires or needs or if it because the things of men are now barred to him. The answers evade his reach, frustratingly close and yet still so unknown and far away. He doesn’t know the answers, perhaps, he never will. All that he knows is that death has made him a strange creature.

There is a hesitant knock at the door and he pushes himself up, grateful for the sudden interruption. He hurries to the door, not caring that it is late, only relieved that he is able to escape his thoughts for but a moment. He opens the door, opening his mouth to greet whoever it is but his words die in his mouth at the sight of who it is. It’s Sansa, wrapped up in a blanket, her head poking out. For a moment, he sees the girl from his childhood, the one who had used to sneak into his room before she learned her courtesies and his place. The memory cuts sharply at some unknown space in his chest.

“Sansa?” He asks cautiously. The girl before him juts out her chin, a stubborn look in her eyes but he sees the fear that burrows itself into her eyes. She trembles before him and he pretends that it is because she is cold. Sansa had never trembled before, not even when she was most scared. His throat goes tight every time he allows himself to wonder where she learnt how to tremble.

“I can’t sleep.” Her words are simple and plain but something inside him moves at her statement. He nods, moving out of the way and she steps into the room, wrapping the furs around her tightly. He stares at her, watching her as she studies their father’s, his chambers. From this angle, beneath the shadows, she looks like Arya. It is funny, they’re both so different but there was so much of Arya in Sansa. There are flashes of their little sister so quick and sudden that it makes him feel dizzy. The jut of her chin, the shape of her eyes, the snap of her voice, even the defiance in her eyes. Standing before him and shouting, her voice loud and girlish, just as his little sister had once done before her mother. He closes his eyes, the pain twisting and sharper than any knife. If he could close his eyes, if she could remain in the shadows, then it would be so easy to imagine it is Arya instead. His little sister sneaking into his room because of nightmares, eyes like his, pleading and tearful.

But they are only flashes and illusions cannot last. You can’t live in the shadows forever and Sansa speaks.

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” Sansa’s voice is quiet and gentle. Disappointment and guilt twists in his stomach. It was wrong and cruel to pretend it was Arya, he thinks to himself. Sansa isn’t his little sister but she is his sister still and somebody he loves.

“It’s fine. I couldn’t sleep either.” Sansa smiles at him, so small that for a moment that he thinks it is another shadow or illusion. “Do you want to get into the bed?” Sansa nods and climbs onto the bed.

 He watches her for a moment before joining her. She faces him, wide and blue eyes watching him, Tully eyes, Lady Stark’s eyes. He slips in beside her, grateful that the phantom of her mother doesn’t suddenly appear between them. All he sees is Sansa, her eyes still wide and fearful. She looks more girl than woman when he’s this close to her. The freckles that dusted her cheeks when she was a child are still there. The bony knees, even the way that she digs her sharp and bony knees into his side is familiar and known.

He brushes a hand against her cheek but she stiffens at his touch. She soon relaxes though.

“I’m glad that you still have your freckles,” he whispers to her. Sansa grins, a wide one that shows all her teeth, the white standing out against the dark.

“I’m glad too,” she whispers back. He traces a finger over each freckle just as he had done when he was a boy and she openly loved him. “I wouldn’t have wanted to lose the love of the stars.” He freezes, surprised. When they were children he had told her that the stars had loved her so much that they had kissed her cheeks, leaving freckles in their place. He had traced and joined each freckle, drawing the constellation across her face.

“You remember.” Sansa nods, her smile softening into something more adult and less known.

“How could I forget? I had the very constellation upon my face. It used to make me feel less alone,” she confesses. His tongue goes heavy with the weight of his words. He wants to bury his head under the ground, pretend that Sansa was safe, pretend that she’s still a little girl but it is impossible. Sansa’s eyes are always sad and there are curves where there had once been pointy bones and skin. She is still Sansa, not even the layer of frost or her mask could hide away that girl.

“I’m glad that you didn’t forget, that it made you feel better.” They fall back into a silence that envelopes them both. Neither has mentioned their pasts. It is easier to ignore and forget the other’s pain in the same way it is simpler to forget that they’re both still broken. They are dancing on the edge, avoiding the truth and evading sleep. It is an edge that they are trying their best not to fall off, even if that means pushing the other down first.

“I’m glad too and I’m glad that I have you here with me.” He hears the raw honesty in her voice. It burns every shadow in his mind, casting light everywhere. It is perhaps that, the sudden light that releases the onslaught of words trapped in his throat.

“I wouldn’t be able to, do this without you, be on my own.” His chest is heavy from the weight of the truth. It leaves him aching and sore. It leaves him wanting to retreat into the shadows but Sansa doesn’t let him. Her hand slips into his own, gentle and questioning, loose as if she is waiting for him to choose what happens next. He wraps his fingers around her own. His grip is tighter than it should be but her grip is just as tight, her nails digging into his skin as if to remind him that this is real. Within the shadows and darkness, they are real.

“I’m broken, though. I’m not the same Sansa.” He looks up and into her eyes and for a moment he is struck silent. For a moment, he sees her as she was when she was a child. Her eyes are wide and open and trusting. It is those eyes that she used to watch their father and Robb with and it is those eyes that are focused on him now. She trusts him just as she did their father, just as she did with Robb. The weight of this revelation strikes him with something he had forgotten existed, something he hadn’t felt since he came back.

Warmth

“Perhaps, we’re all broken now. Maybe it doesn’t have to be bad,” he says. Her eyes widen at what he says and realisation dawns on her face. Perhaps, we are all broken and maybe that means nothing. Maybe all it truly means is kindness and bravery and strength. Maybe it makes kingdoms out of all us, is what he means to say, what he hopes she hears and he thinks that she does, but there is still that stubborn glint. That glint that reminds him achingly of Arya.

“Something loosened inside me when I watched Ramsay get eaten by his dogs,” she says suddenly. He knows what she is trying to push him away, disgust him. Sansa has always been good at turning the most innocent of things into weapons.

“He deserved it.”

“I know.”

“I’m glad that he died. He deserved it.”

“He did,” she says simply.

“You aren’t a monster for this. You aren’t a monster for being happy.” Sansa’s lower lip trembles but she does not reply this time.

There are still questions that he wants to ask her and things he wants to say but he curls his fingers over hers instead. There is a time for honesty and there is a time for shadows and there are some answers that are best left unknown. Answers that deserve to be kept close to one’s heart. He remembers Sansa’s eyes, though, large and trusting and so blue and he knows that one day she will tell him her story and one day he will tell her his. This is the time for bravery and darkness though and so he closes his eyes, ready to be brave, ready to face the darkness.