First line: “Don’t you dare ever do that to me again!” for Jon/Sansa pretty please :)
Of course ;)))
“Don’t you ever do that to me again!”
Jon grabbed hold of her fists to still her erratic movements. She struggled against his grips, determined to pound on his chest, but the fight was beginning to leave her. After several long seconds, Sansa collapsed into him, face buried into the fur lining of his cloak. He held her gently.
“I am here now, Sansa,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”
Winter’s return had left the grounds in thick white powder. Beautiful yet unimaginably dangerous, taking more lives than Jon wanted to think upon. It was his duty now to keep the North safe, but the strain wore on him. He was being pulled in every which direction – the Dragon Queen in the South, the White Walkers beyond the Wall, and here in the North.
But it was this woman in his arms – body shaking from the cold or her emotions he did not know – that kept him grounded in the coming storm.
“You were away for so many moons,” she murmured. “I didn’t hear from you. I was worried that the Dragon Queen had –” Her sentence was cut short, as she pulled back to fix him with a steely glare. “We can’t trust her, Jon.”
His hands moved up her back till he could cradle her face, soothing the worry as best as he could. “I know,” Jon assured her. “But we need this alliance. The White Walkers are coming and we do not have the numbers to fight them.”
Sansa huffed, curling mist drifting away from her wind-bitten lips. “That maybe so, but I don’t like you going to see her.” Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, as she considered her next words. “When I heard of the incident on the road, I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. I can’t lose you too.”
“You won’t,” Jon said firmly; but they both knew it was naive to promise that when war was imminent. “I’ll always come home to you.”
“You can’t promise that,” she said, fisting her hands around the tunic underneath his cloak. The feel of her so close to his bare skin made his heart beat faster than it should – than was appropriate. He must not think that way. Not about Sansa. She’d been through so much already.
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he amended, watching her carefully. “If I have breath in my lungs, Sansa, I’ll find my way back.”
Sansa looked back up at those words and smiled faintly. “You, Jon Snow, are making bold claims.”
“I was brought back from the dead for a reason,” he said, smiling back. “I didn’t know why for awhile. But then you showed up at the Wall and it all suddenly made sense again.” His thumb brushed against her cheek. “My purpose is to you. To Winterfell. To our home.”
In a distant part of his mind, Jon was aware the courtyard was now empty. It had been filled only moments earlier when he and his men had arrived back from Dragonstone, but now, only Jon and Sansa were left to brave the cold. He had never been more relieved for the privacy, as she leaned forward to press a lingering kiss to the edge of his lips.
“Come. Let’s go inside.”