there are ghosts in winterfell and i am one of them


A thin film of ice covered the surface of the pool beneath the weirwood. Theon sank to his knees beside it. “Please,” he murmured through his broken teeth, “I never meant …” The words caught in his throat. “Save me,” he finally managed. “Give me …What? Strength? Courage? Mercy? Snow fell around him, pale and silent, keeping its own counsel. The only sound was a faint soft sobbing. Jeyne, he thought. It is her, sobbing in her bridal bed. Who else could it be? Gods do not weep. Or do they?
The sound was too painful to endure. Theon grabbed hold of a branch and pulled himself back to his feet, knocked the snow off his legs, and limped back toward the lights. There are ghosts in Winterfell, he thought, and I am one of them.

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.



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.

anonymous asked:

do you think benjen knew the truth about jon? or at least suspected it?

I like to think he suspected it, possibly even knew with certainty without Ned telling him. There’s a theory floating around that Benjen joined the Night’s Watch out of guilt because he knew of Lyanna’s plans to run away, so maybe when he saw Jon he just *knew*.

Benjen is particularly warm toward Jon, even joining him at the low table during the King’s feast in Winterfell to talk to him and tease him. That particular interaction doesn’t end well because Jon’s drunk and angry, but Benjen does say this:

“You might, if you knew what it meant,” Benjen said. “If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son.”

Jon felt anger rise inside him. “I’m not your son!”

Benjen Stark stood up. “More’s the pity.” He put a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Come back to me after you’ve fathered a few bastards of your own, and we’ll see how you feel.”

Jon even becomes sullen that Benjen stopped being as friendly with him when they went to the Wall, because Benjen is trying to make a point that he’s just another brother at the Wall and would not get special treatment from him:

Even his uncle had abandoned him in this cold place at the end of the world. Up here, the genial Benjen Stark he had known became a different person. He was First Ranger, and he spent his days and nights with Lord Commander Mormont and Maester Aemon and the other high officers, while Jon was given over to the less than tender charge of Ser Alliser Thorne.

Three days after their arrival, Jon had heard that Benjen Stark was to lead a half-dozen men on a ranging into the haunted forest. That night he sought out his uncle in the great timbered common hall and pleaded to go with him. Benjen refused him curtly. “This is not Winterfell,” he told him as he cut his meat with fork and dagger. “On the Wall, a man gets only what he earns. You’re no ranger, Jon, only a green boy with the smell of summer still on you.”

Stupidly, Jon argued. “I’ll be fifteen on my name day,” he said. “Almost a man grown.”

Benjen Stark frowned. “A boy you are, and a boy you’ll remain until Ser Alliser says you are fit to be a man of the Night’s Watch. If you thought your Stark blood would win you easy favors, you were wrong. We put aside our old families when we swear our vows. Your father will always have a place in my heart, but these are my brothers now.” He gestured with his dagger at the men around them, all the hard cold men in black.

Jon rose at dawn the next day to watch his uncle leave. One of his rangers, a big ugly man, sang a bawdy song as he saddled his garron, his breath steaming in the cold morning air. Ben Stark smiled at that, but he had no smile for his nephew. “How often must I tell you no, Jon? We’ll speak when I return.”

Jon expresses a great amount of anger over his uncle’s treatment of him, which seems to indicate that Jon is very much unused to Benjen refusing him or being anything less than warm toward him. His anger reaches a boiling point pretty quickly too:

“I don’t care,” Jon said. “I don’t care about them and I don’t care about you or Thorne or Benjen Stark or any of it. I hate it here. It’s too … it’s cold.”

When Benjen goes missing, it affects Jon rather greatly throughout AGoT:

Jon remembered the wish he’d wished in his anger, the vision of Benjen Stark dead in the snow, and he looked away quickly. The dwarf had a way of sensing things, and Jon did not want him to see the guilt in his eyes. “He said he’d be back by my name day,” he admitted. His name day had come and gone, unremarked, a fortnight past.

For a moment Jon was too frightened to move. Why would the Lord Commander want to see him? They had heard something about Benjen, he thought wildly, he was dead, the vision had come true. “Is it my uncle?” he blurted. “Is he returned safe?”

The grey walls of Winterfell might still haunt his dreams, but Castle Black was his life now, and his brothers were Sam and Grenn and Halder and Pyp and the other cast-outs who wore the black of the Night’s Watch.

“My uncle spoke truly,” he whispered to Ghost. He wondered if he would ever see Benjen Stark again, to tell him.

“Very well, truly,” the fat boy lied. “I am so happy for you all.” His round face quivered as he forced a smile. “You will be First Ranger someday, just as your uncle was.”

“Is,” Jon corrected. He would not accept that Benjen Stark was dead. 

“Benjen Stark is still First Ranger,” Jon Snow told him, toying with his bowl of blueberries. The rest might have given up all hope of his uncle’s safe return, but not him.

In ACoK Jon still thinks of his uncle, and even mentions him to Ygritte:

“Do you know anything of my uncle, Benjen Stark?”

Ygritte ignored him. Stonesnake laughed. “If she spits out her tongue, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

In Jon’s crypt dream in ASoS, he calls to his uncle for help:

He dreamt he was back in Winterfell, limping past the stone kings on their thrones. Their grey granite eyes turned to follow him as he passed, and their grey granite fingers tightened on the hilts of the rusted swords upon their laps. You are no Stark, he could hear them mutter, in heavy granite voices. There is no place for you here. Go away. He walked deeper into the darkness. “Father?” he called. “Bran? Rickon?” No one answered. A chill wind was blowing on his neck. “Uncle?” he called. “Uncle Benjen? Father? Please, Father, help me.” Up above he heard drums. They are feasting in the Great Hall, but I am not welcome there. I am no Stark, and this is not my place. His crutch slipped and he fell to his knees. The crypts were growing darker. A light has gone out somewhere. “Ygritte?” he whispered. “Forgive me. Please.” But it was only a direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, his golden eyes shining sadly through the dark …

All of this to establish that a relationship did exist between Jon and Benjen, and overall it seemed a rather warm one. It’s just as well that Benjen would behave warmly toward any Stark bastard, but seeing as Benjen and Lyanna had been close in age, that they likely spent more time together than Benjen would have with his other siblings, and that they were partners in crime at Harrenhal may indicate that he feels close to Jon because of Lyanna.

Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow, parallels.
  • Both are orphans. Both lost their fathers before their birth, during Robert’s Rebellion, and both mothers died bringing them into the world.
  • They were smuggled away from their place of birth - Daenerys went in exile to Essos, Jon was carried to Winterfell. They both suffered abuse: Jon by Catelyn, and Daenerys by Viserys (Daenerys case is much worse of course). Dany was in the shadow of Viserys; Jon was in the shadow of Robb.
  • As Daenerys is sold to Drogo and starts her life with the strange culture of the Dothraki, Jon joins the Night’s Watch and struggles to adapt to the law standards of the life at the Wall. Later Jon has to join the Wildlings, the “savages of Westeros”, just as the Dothraki are the “savages of Essos”.
  • misslalwen also pointed that both Jon’s and Daenerys’ journeys in ASOIAF start with a feast: Jon’s very first chapter is the feast at Winterfell, when he takes the crucial life-changing decision of joining the Night’s Watch. Daenerys’s very first chapter is the preparation for her wedding feast with Khal Drogo; her second chapter is the feast itself. It happens at the same time as Jon’s story.
  • Their first love relation: Daenerys was sold and raped by Khal Drogo; just as Jon was forced into his relation with Ygritte - he had to sleep with her under threat on his life. Mance made it clear that if Jon doesn’t sleep with Ygritte, he would kill him (as it would mean that Jon remains true to his Night’s Watch vows and therefore is a Crow).

Yet every night, some time before the dawn, Drogo would come to her tent and wake her in the dark, to ride her as relentlessly as he rode his stallion. He always took her from behind, Dothraki fashion, for which Dany was grateful; that way her lord husband could not see the tears that wet her face, and she could use her pillow to muffle her cries of pain. When he was done, he would close his eyes and begin to snore softly and Dany would lie beside him, her body bruised and sore, hurting too much for sleep.

“I never asked you to lie for me.”

“I never did,” she said. “I left out part, is all.”

“You said - ”

“ - that we fuck beneath your cloak many a night. I never said when we started, though.” The smile she gave him was almost shy. “Find another place for Ghost to sleep tonight, Jon Snow. It’s like Mance said. Deeds is truer than words.”

  •  Both Jon and Daenerys develop affection to their companions.
  • When Drogo and Ygritte die, it’s in the hands of Daenerys and Jon. 
  • Both Jon and Daenerys feel guilty about their lost first loves, and mourn them.
  • Both Daenerys and Jon rose to power quickly, and at a very young age. Daenerys is Queen of Meereen at 15, Jon is made Lord Commander at 16. Note that it happens at the same time: Daenerys takes up residence in Meereen and becomes Queen, while Jon becomes Lord Commander, both at the end of Storm of Swords.
  • They are the two best examples of young leaders in the novels. How they rule, the difficulties they are facing, the trials they undergo. Their stories illustrate the battle against their inexperiences and will to move forward “kill the boy and let the man be born” “if I look back, I’m lost”.
  •  Daenerys was offered the chance to return to Westeros, but she decied to stay in Meereen to rule and help her people. Jon was offered to be made a Stark of Winterfell, but he refused because he knows he has a duty to the Night’s Watch, and because he feels that as a bastard, he doesn’t have morally the right to be Lord of Winterfell.
  • Both want the best for all the sides, and both struggle to be accepted by those they rule. They both turn their attention to the outcasts of the society,to those other people refused: Jon cares for the Wildling, and is the first Lord Commander in history to make peace with them and allow them to cross the Wall; while Daenerys releases thousands of enslaved people and does everything she can to keep them alive.
  • Both faced assassination attempts, by those who disagreed with their ways of ruling. While Daenerys escaped her poisoned locusts by luck, Jon is stabbed by his Brothers. And again, these events happens at the same time, at the end of A Dance with Dragons.
  • Both are connected to magical legendary beasts: a direwolf for Jon, and 3 dragons for Daenerys.
  • Both think of their family they never knew: Jon quite a lot of his mother, and Daenerys of Rhaegar and Aerys, and her ancestors.
  • Daenerys feels the need to carry her Targaryen lineage and fulfill the duty to her House, Jon also want to impress his adoptive father Eddard. 

He was no true Stark, had never been one … but he could die like one. Let them say that Eddard Stark had fathered four sons, not three.

“Remember who you are, Daenerys,” the stars whispered in a woman’s voice. “The dragons know. Do you?”

  • Daenerys tries to think of Rhaegar as her idol, while Jon’s idol was Daeron Targaryen the Young Dragon.

That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse.

When Jon had been a boy at Winterfell, his hero had been the Young Dragon, the boy king who had conquered Dorne at the age of fourteen. Despite his bastard birth, or perhaps because of it, Jon Snow had dreamed of leading men to glory just as King Daeron had, of growing up to be a conqueror

  • Both are gentle and kind people. And both are very melancholic
  • Finally, Daenerys’ prophecy from the House of the Undying:

A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. … mother of dragons, bride of fire …

 The obvious reference to Jon (blue flower in a Wall of ice) is part of the prophecy concerning Daenerys’ love interests, symbolised by the word “bride”. 

  •  And there are subtle foreshadowings when Jon and Daenerys think of the magical beast of the other (unbeknown to them of course)

He might as well wish for another thousand men, and maybe a dragon or three. - Jon, A Storm of Swords

Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made her feel sad and lonely, but no less hungry. - Daenerys, A Dance with Dragons

And I am sure there are more parallels, perhaps less obvious. Parallel lines are meant to never meet, but in the case of Jon and Daenerys, I feel these lines are sliding straight toward each other.

Jon Snow: The silent, unknown and unthought answer to Sansa’s hopes.

Last October I wrote a long post about Sansa & The Story of Jenny of Oldstones and The Prince of Dragonflies. The Prince of Dragonflies was a Targaryen prince who gave up the throne to be with his love, a girl called Jenny of Oldstones. 

I wrote about the connections between Sansa and said love story and when I wondered who could it play the part of the Prince of Dragonflies in Sansa’s story? Who could it be the prince willing to give up the throne for love? Guess what or who was the answer? 

Here is an extract of my long post (And the extract is long itself):  

When Jon had been very young, too young to understand what it meant to be a bastard, he used to dream that one day Winterfell might be his. Later, when he was older, he had been ashamed of those dreams. Winterfell would go to Robb and then his sons, or to Bran or Rickon should Robb die childless. And after them came Sansa and Arya. Even to dream otherwise seemed disloyal, as if he were betraying them in his heart, wishing for their deaths. I never wanted this, he thought as he stood before the blue-eyed king and the red woman. I loved Robb, loved all of them … I never wanted any harm to come to any of them, but it did. And now there’s only me. All he had to do was say the word, and he would be Jon Stark, and nevermore a Snow. All he had to do was pledge this king his fealty, and Winterfell was his. All he had to do …

…was forswear his vows again.

[…] Are you refusing me, Jon Snow?“

“No,” Jon said, too quickly. It was Winterfell the king was speaking of, and Winterfell was not to be lightly refused. “I mean … this has all come very suddenly, Your Grace. Might I beg you for some time to consider?”

“As you wish. But consider quickly. I am not a patient man, as your black brothers are about to discover.” Stannis put a thin, fleshless hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Say nothing of what we’ve discussed here today. To anyone. But when you return, you need only bend your knee, lay your sword at my feet, and pledge yourself to my service, and you shall rise again as Jon Stark, the Lord of Winterfell.”

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XI

Every morning they had trained together, since they were big enough to walk; Snow and Stark, spinning and slashing about the wards of Winterfell, shouting and laughing, sometimes crying when there was no one else to see. They were not little boys when they fought, but knights and mighty heroes. “I’m Prince Aemon the Dragonknight,” Jon would call out, and Robb would shout back, “Well, I’m Florian the Fool.” Or Robb would say, “I’m the Young Dragon,” and Jon would reply, “I’m Ser Ryam Redwyne.

That morning he called it first. “I’m Lord of Winterfell!” he cried, as he had a hundred times before. Only this time, this time, Robb had answered, “You can’t be Lord of Winterfell, you’re bastard-born. My lady mother says you can’t ever be the Lord of Winterfell.”

[…] Why am I so angry? he asked himself, but it was a stupid question. Lord of Winterfell. I could be the Lord of Winterfell. My father’s heir.

[…] Winterfell, he thought. Theon left it burned and broken, but I could restore it. Surely his father would have wanted that, and Robb as well. They would never have wanted the castle left in ruins.

[…] Stannis wants me to be the Lord of Winterfell. But what do I want? […] Would I sooner be hanged for a turncloak by Lord Janos, or forswear my vows, marry Val, and become the Lord of Winterfell? It seemed an easy choice when he thought of it in those terms […]

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me.  It was a hunger inside him, sharp as a dragonglass blade. A hunger… he could feel it. It was food he needed, prey, a red deer that stank of fear or a great elk proud and defiant. He needed to kill and fill his belly with fresh meat and hot dark blood. His mouth began to water with the thought.

It was a long moment before he understood what was happening. When he did, he bolted to his feet. “Ghost?”

[…] Red eyes, Jon realized, but not like Melisandre’s. He had a weirwood’s eyes. Red eyes, red mouth, white fur. Blood and bone, like a heart tree. He belongs to the old gods, this one. And he alone of all the direwolves was white. Six pups they’d found in the late summer snows, him and Robb; five that were grey and black and brown, for the five Starks, and one white, as white as Snow.

He had his answer then.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

At this point, we all know what was Jon’s answer, right? And we know that his answer was built based on love, the love for his family, his brothers and sisters, love epitomized in one name:

“How can I lose men I do not have? I had hoped to bestow Winterfell on a northman, you may recall. A son of Eddard Stark. He threw my offer in my face.” Stannis Baratheon with a grievance was like a mastiff with a bone; he gnawed it down to splinters.

“By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa.”

“Lady Lannister, you mean? Are you so eager to see the Imp perched on your father’s seat? I promise you, that will not happen whilst I live, Lord Snow.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon I

Jon said, “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa.”

“I have heard all I need to hear of Lady Lannister and her claim.” The king set the cup aside. “You could bring the north to me. Your father’s bannermen would rally to the son of Eddard Stark. Even Lord Too-Fat-to-Sit-a-Horse. White Harbor would give me a ready source of supply and a secure base to which I could retreat at need. It is not too late to amend your folly, Snow. Take a knee and swear that bastard sword to me, and rise as Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.”

How many times will he make me say it? “My sword is sworn to the Night’s Watch.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon IV

I know all these facts are not equal to the facts of the story of Jenny of Oldstones and her Prince of Dragonflies, Jon is not exactly giving up Winterfell to marry Sansa, and Sansa is sure that she is only appealing because of her claim:  

“I will be safe in Highgarden. Willas will keep me safe.”

“But he does not know you,” Dontos insisted, “and he will not love you. Jonquil, Jonquil, open your sweet eyes, these Tyrells care nothing for you. It’s your claim they mean to wed.”

“My claim?” She was lost for a moment.

“Sweetling,” he told her, “you are heir to Winterfell.” He grabbed her again, pleading that she must not do this thing, and Sansa wrenched free and left him swaying beneath the heart tree. She had not visited the godswood since.

But she had not forgotten his words, either. The heir to Winterfell, she would think as she lay abed at night. It’s your claim they mean to wed. Sansa had grown up with three brothers. She never thought to have a claim, but with Bran and Rickon dead… It doesn’t matter, there’s still Robb, he’s a man grown now, and soon he’ll wed and have a son. Anyway, Willas Tyrell will have Highgarden, what would he want with Winterfell?

A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

How would you like to marry your cousin, the Lord Robert?”

The thought made Sansa weary. All she knew of Robert Arryn was that he was a little boy, and sickly. It is not me she wants her son to marry, it is my claim. No one will ever marry me for love. But lying came easy to her now. “I … can scarcely wait to meet him, my lady. But he is still a child, is he not?”

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI

But, instead of Tyrion, Willas or even Robert, who pursue Sansa’s claim over her, there is a man that has been offered Winterfell and choose her over it:By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa.“ "Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa.” Among all the high lords interested in becoming the Lord of Winterfell by marrying Sansa Stark, the bastard Jon Snow refused to despoil his sister Sansa of her rights, even if her claim is the one thing he has wanted as much as he had ever wanted anything. 

Don’t you find this very romantic? I mean, when Sansa thinks: “No one will ever marry me for love” (Because everyone only wants her claim to Winterfell), at the other part of the world is Jon Snow saying more than once: By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa.“ "Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa." This for me is one of the most romantic passages of the books.

And Jon giving up Winterfell is not the first time he is the silent and unknown answer to Sansa’s hopes. As I’m going to explain next, repeatedly when Sansa has a wish or a dream about her lost family and her home, Winterfell, there is always subtle or not so subtle references of Jon Snow.

As I just said, Jon giving up Winterfell is not the first time he plays the role of the hero of Sansa’s hopes. We have the whole Janos Slynt case (Also romantic, beheading included), where Jon Snow, as the Lord Commander of The Night’s Watch, literally becomes Sansa’s hoped hero at a point where she’s convinced herself that there are no heroes in the real life:

Frog-faced Lord Slynt sat at the end of the council table wearing a black velvet doublet and a shiny cloth-of-gold cape, nodding with approval every time the king pronounced a sentence. Sansa stared hard at his ugly face, remembering how he had thrown down her father for Ser Ilyn to behead, wishing she could hurt him, wishing that some hero would throw him down and cut off his head. But a voice inside her whispered, There are no heroes, and she remembered what Lord Petyr had said to her, here in this very hall. “Life is not a song, sweetling,” he’d told her. “You may learn that one day to your sorrow.” In life, the monsters win, she told herself, and now it was the Hound’s voice she heard, a cold rasp, metal on stone. “Save yourself some pain, girl, and give him what he wants.”

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI

“You are refusing to obey my order?”

“You can stick your order up your bastard’s arse,” said Slynt, his jowls quivering.

[…] “As you will.” Jon nodded to Iron Emmett. “Please take Lord Janos to the Wall—”

[…] “I will not hang him,” said Jon. “Bring him here.”

“Oh, Seven save us,” he heard Bowen Marsh cry out. The smile that Lord Janos Slynt smiled then had all the sweetness of rancid butter. Until Jon said, “Edd, fetch me a block,” and unsheathed Longclaw.

[…] The pale morning sunlight ran up and down his blade as Jon clasped the hilt of the bastard sword with both hands and raised it high. “If you have any last words, now is the time to speak them,” he said, expecting one last curse.

Janos Slynt twisted his neck around to stare up at him. “Please, my lord. Mercy. I’ll … I’ll go, I will, I …”

No, thought Jon. You closed that door. Longclaw descended.

“Can I have his boots?” asked Owen the Oaf, as Janos Slynt’s head went rolling across the muddy ground. “They’re almost new, those boots. Lined with fur.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon II

If you read the entire chapter, you will find that during his conversation with Janos Slynt, Jon was thinking about Ned Stark and the participation of Slynt in his father’s death at King’s Landing. Jon even thought about how easy it would be beheading him with Longclaw. And maybe that was the reason why he opted for beheading him instead of hanging him, just as Sansa wished.

And once more, when she thinks she’s lost all of her family, there is Jon.

Indeed, in A Storm of Swords, when she remembers her family after a dream where she is back at Winterfell with them: That was such a sweet dream” “If only dreaming could make it so…, she thinks that all of them are dead (Lady, Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, Ned, Cat, Septa Mordane): All of them are dead but me. She was alone in the world now.. But she forgets someone that is alive, someone she never had any news or suspected he was dead: his bastard half brother Jon Snow.

And later in A Feast for Crows, when she is under the disguise of the bastard Alayne Stone, the memory of her bastard half brother awoke:

There’s a new High Septon, did you know? Oh, and the Night’s Watch has a boy commander, some bastard son of Eddard Stark’s.“

"Jon Snow?” she blurted out, surprised.

“Snow? Yes, it would be Snow, I suppose.”

She had not thought of Jon in ages. He was only her half brother, but still… with Robb and Bran and Rickon dead, Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her. I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again. But of course that could never be. Alayne Stone had no brothers, baseborn or otherwise.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

It is really beautiful how she associates her family and her home with the word ‘sweet’, and in that moment, when she is living as a bastard girl, she thinks of Jon, maybe for the first time, with sweet words: “Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again”.

So, the sweet dream of being again with someone of her family back in Winterfell is possible after all; even if she thinks it’s not because Alayne Stone had no brothers. But Sansa Stark does have a brother.

And once again, when she thinks that her own song was ended, there is ‘Snow’.

Exactly, at the end of A Storm of Swords, while snow was falling on the Eyrie, she thought this: She had last seen snow the day she’d left Winterfell”. I thought my song was beginning that day, but it was almost done”.

Anew, the ‘snow’ was preceded by a dream of her family and her home:

She awoke all at once, every nerve atingle. For a moment she did not remember where she was. She had dreamt that she was little, still sharing a bedchamber with her sister Arya. But it was her maid she heard tossing in sleep, not her sister, and this was not Winterfell, but the Eyrie. And I am Alayne Stone, a bastard girl. The room was cold and black, though she was warm beneath the blankets. Dawn had not yet come. Sometimes she dreamed of Ser Ilyn Payne and woke with her heart thumping, but this dream had not been like that. Home. It was a dream of home.

The Eyrie was no home.

[…] Snow was falling on the Eyrie.

Outside the flakes drifted down as soft and silent as memory. Was this what woke me? Already the snowfall lay thick upon the garden below, blanketing the grass, dusting the shrubs and statues with white and weighing down the branches of the trees. The sight took Sansa back to cold nights long ago, in the long summer of her childhood.

She had last seen snow the day she’d left Winterfell. That was a lighter fall than this, she remembered. Robb had melting flakes in his hair when he hugged me, and the snowball Arya tried to make kept coming apart in her hands. It hurt to remember how happy she had been that morning. Hullen had helped her mount, and she’d ridden out with the snowflakes swirling around her, off to see the great wide world. I thought my song was beginning that day, but it was almost done.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

There is a pattern here, a dichotomy: Reality and Desire. When Sansa has a wish of vengeance or a dream of having her family and her home back, the reality immediately comes and crashes against her desires, and she ends up discarding them. But, even without knowing it yet, her desires are possible with the help of her unthought brother, Jon Snow.

The seventh Sansa’s chapter of A Storm of Swords had more references of her lost home, Winterfell and Jon Snow:

When she opened the door to the garden, it was so lovely that she held her breath, unwilling to disturb such perfect beauty. The snow drifted down and down, all in ghostly silence, and lay thick and unbroken on the ground. All color had fled the world outside. It was a place of whites and blacks and greys. White towers and white snow and white statues, black shadows and black trees, the dark grey sky above. A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here.

Yet she stepped out all the same. Her boots tore ankle-deep holes into the smooth white surface of the snow, yet made no sound. Sansa drifted past frosted shrubs and thin dark trees, and wondered if she were still dreaming. Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks. At the center of the garden, beside the statue of the weeping woman that lay broken and half-buried on the ground, she turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams.

When Sansa opened her eyes again, she was on her knees. She did not remember falling. It seemed to her that the sky was a lighter shade of grey. Dawn, she thought. Another day. Another new day. It was the old days she hungered for. Prayed for. But who could she pray to? The garden had been meant for a godswood once, she knew, but the soil was too thin and stony for a weirwood to take root. A godswood without gods, as empty as me.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

The references of Winterfell and her Stark blood are very clear. Stark colors: It was a place of whites and blacks and greys”. Her lost/destroyed home and dreams: She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams”. Her lost faith in any goods: It was the old days she hungered for. Prayed for. But who could she pray to? The garden had been meant for a godswood once, she knew, but the soil was too thin and stony for a weirwood to take root. A godswood without gods, as empty as me”.

The references of Jon are quite subtle. This two lines: The snow drifted down and down, all in ghostly silence” “Her boots tore ankle-deep holes into the smooth white surface of the snow, yet made no sound”, remind me of Jon’s silent direwolf Ghost. And this one, Oh this one: “Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks”, this one could be about Ghost licking her cheeks or maybe something else… Anyway, lets continue:

Sansa began to make snowballs, shaping and smoothing them until they were round and white and perfect. She remembered a summer’s snow in Winterfell when Arya and Bran had ambushed her as she emerged from the keep one morning. They’d each had a dozen snowballs to hand, and she’d had none. Bran had been perched on the roof of the covered bridge, out of reach, but Sansa had chased Arya through the stables and around the kitchen until both of them were breathless. She might even have caught her, but she’d slipped on some ice. Her sister came back to see if she was hurt. When she said she wasn’t, Arya hit her in the face with another snowball, but Sansa grabbed her leg and pulled her down and was rubbing snow in her hair when Jory came along and pulled them apart, laughing.

What do I want with snowballs? She looked at her sad little arsenal. There’s no one to throw them at. She let the one she was making drop from her hand. I could build a snow knight instead, she thought. Or even…

[…] The snow fell and the castle rose. Two walls ankle-high, the inner taller than the outer. Towers and turrets, keeps and stairs, a round kitchen, a square armory, the stables along the inside of the west wall. It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell. She found twigs and fallen branches beneath the snow and broke off the ends to make the trees for the godswood. For the gravestones in the lichyard she used bits of bark. Soon her gloves and her boots were crusty white, her hands were tingling, and her feet were soaked and cold, but she did not care. The castle was all that mattered. Some things were hard to remember, but most came back to her easily, as if she had been there only yesterday. The Library Tower, with the steep stonework stair twisting about its exterior. The gatehouse, two huge bulwarks, the arched gate between them, crenellations all along the top…

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Again, the references of Winterfell are very clear. “It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell”. “The castle was all that mattered”. For me, this lines are connected with the prophecy of The Ghost of High Heart about Sansa killing some savage giant in a castle built of snow. And it implies that Sansa is going to actively participate in Winterfell rebuilding. And who else want to rebuild Winterfell?

Winterfell, he thought. Theon left it burned and broken, but I could restore it. Surely his father would have wanted that, and Robb as well. They would never have wanted the castle left in ruins.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

That’s why this line: The snow fell and the castle rose” makes me think that Jon Snow will help Sansa to rebuild Winterfell, their lost and broken home.

And Jon and Sansa could also “rebuild” the Stark dynasty, the blood of Winterfell, as they both share the dream to have children to fill the void of their lost family, their lost parents and siblings:

Willas would be Lord of Highgarden and she would be his lady.

She pictured the two of them sitting together in a garden with puppies in their laps, or listening to a singer strum upon a lute while they floated down the Mander on a pleasure barge. If I give him sons, he may come to love me. She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too. In Sansa’s dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister’s son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly’s boy as well. Sam would never need to tell his lie. We’d find a place for Gilly too, and Sam could come visit her once a year or so. Mance’s son and Craster’s would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

And finally, this line: Arya hit her in the face with another snowball, but Sansa grabbed her leg and pulled her down and was rubbing snow in her hair”, reminds me of Jon messing up Arya’s hair.

At this point I must emphasize that the seventh Sansa’s chapter of A Storm of Swords comes immediately after the twelfth Jon’s chapter, the chapter where he found his answer to Stannis offer of Winterfell. And what it was that helped John to find his answer? His beloved direwolf, Ghost:

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. It was a hunger inside him, sharp as a dragonglass blade. A hunger … he could feel it. It was food he needed, prey, a red deer that stank of fear or a great elk proud and defiant. He needed to kill and fill his belly with fresh meat and hot dark blood. His mouth began to water with the thought.

It was a long moment before he understood what was happening. When he did, he bolted to his feet. “Ghost?” He turned toward the wood, and there he came, padding silently out of the green dusk, the breath coming warm and white from his open jaws. “Ghost!” he shouted, and the direwolf broke into a run. He was leaner than he had been, but bigger as well, and the only sound he made was the soft crunch of dead leaves beneath his paws. When he reached Jon he leapt, and they wrestled amidst brown grass and long shadows as the stars came out above them. “Gods, wolf, where have you been?” Jon said when Ghost stopped worrying at his forearm. “I thought you’d died on me, like Robb and Ygritte and all the rest. I’ve had no sense of you, not since I climbed the Wall, not even in dreams.” The direwolf had no answer, but he licked Jon’s face with a tongue like a wet rasp, and his eyes caught the last light and shone like two great red suns.

Red eyes, Jon realized, but not like Melisandre’s. He had a weirwood’s eyes. Red eyes, red mouth, white fur. Blood and bone, like a heart tree. He belongs to the old gods, this one. And he alone of all the direwolves was white. Six pups they’d found in the late summer snows, him and Robb; five that were grey and black and brown, for the five Starks, and one white, as white as Snow.

He had his answer then.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

So, at the same time, Jon and Sansa had an important realization concerning to their lost and broken home, Winterfell. And what that helped them to reach that realization was the snow. Literally snow in Sansa’s case and Ghost, the direwolf as white as snow, in Jon’s case. And this connection between Jon and Sansa reminds me of another one related to the snow. I called this connection ‘Children of the Mountain’:

Soon they were high enough so that looking down was best not considered. There was nothing below but yawning blackness, nothing above but moon and stars. “The mountain is your mother,” Stonesnake had told him during an easier climb a few days past. “Cling to her, press your face up against her teats, and she won’t drop you.” Jon had made a joke of it, saying how he’d always wondered who his mother was, but never thought to find her in the Frostfangs. It did not seem nearly so amusing now. One step and then another, he thought, clinging tight.

—A Clash of Kings - Jon VI

“You’re mistaken. I never fall.” Mya’s hair had tumbled across her cheek, hiding one eye.

“Almost, I said. I saw you. Weren’t you afraid?

“Mya shook her head. "I remember a man throwing me in the air when I was very little. He stands as tall as the sky, and he throws me up so high it feels as though I’m flying. We’re both laughing, laughing so much that I can hardly catch a breath, and finally I laugh so hard I wet myself, but that only makes him laugh the louder. I was never afraid when he was throwing me. I knew that he would always be there to catch me.” She pushed her hair back. “Then one day he wasn’t. Men come and go. They lie, or die, or leave you. A mountain is not a man, though, and a stone is a mountain’s daughter. I trust my father, and I trust my mules. I won’t fall.” She put her hand on a jagged spur of rock, and got to her feet. “Best finish. We have a long way yet to go, and I can smell a storm.”

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

In both cases, we are talking about ‘Snowy Mountains’, the Frostfangs and the Eyrie with the winter upon it. In both cases, a ‘Stone’ related person said to them that they are ‘Children of the Mountain’, Stonesnake and Mya Stone. In both cases the Mountain will never drop or let fall their children. That way, Jon, a motherless boy, finds a mother; and Sansa, under the disguise of Alayne Stone, finds a better father than the despicable Lord Baelish.  

One more connection between Jon and Sansa is the one related to Ghost. This connection appears in the same Sansa’s chapter in A Feast for Crows, Alayne II, previously mentioned, the one where she thought of Jon Snow for the first time in ages while descending from the Eyrie to the Gates of the Moon. And in Jon’s case, it appears in his last chapter in A Dance with Dragons, Jon XIII. Let’s see:

"Ser Sweetrobin,” Lord Robert said, and Alayne knew that she dare not wait for Mya to return. She helped the boy dismount, and hand in hand they walked out onto the bare stone saddle, their cloaks snapping and flapping behind them. All around was empty air and sky, the ground falling away sharply to either side. There was ice underfoot, and broken stones just waiting to turn an ankle, and the wind was howling fiercely. It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghost wolf, big as mountains.

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

Outside the armory, Mully and the Flea stood shivering at guard. “Shouldn’t you be inside, out of this wind?” Jon asked.“That’d be sweet, m'lord,” said Fulk the Flea, “but your wolf’s in no mood for company today.”

Mully agreed. “He tried to take a bite o’ me, he did.”

“Ghost?” Jon was shocked.

“Unless your lordship has some other white wolf, aye. I never seen him like this, m'lord. All wild-like, I mean.”

He was not wrong, as Jon discovered for himself when he slipped inside the doors. The big white direwolf would not lie still. He paced from one end of the armory to the other, past the cold forge and back again. “Easy, Ghost,” Jon called. “Down. Sit, Ghost. Down.” Yet when he made to touch him, the wolf bristled and bared his teeth. It’s that bloody boar. Even in here, Ghost can smell his stink.

Mormont’s raven seemed agitated too. “Snow,” the bird kept screaming. “Snow, snow, snow.” Jon shooed him off, had Satin start a fire, then sent him out after Bowen Marsh and Othell Yarwyck. “Bring a flagon of mulled wine as well.”

[…] This was pointless, Jon thought. Pointless, fruitless, hopeless. “Thank you for your counsel, my lords.”

Satin helped them back into their cloaks. As they walked through the armory, Ghost sniffed at them, his tail upraised and bristling. My brothers. The Night’s Watch needed leaders with the wisdom of Maester Aemon, the learning of Samwell Tarly, the courage of Qhorin Halfhand, the stubborn strength of the Old Bear, the compassion of Donal Noye. What it had instead was them.

[…] When Wick Whittlestick slashed at his throat, the word turned into a grunt. Jon twisted from the knife, just enough so it barely grazed his skin. He cut me. When he put his hand to the side of his neck, blood welled between his fingers. “Why?”

“For the Watch.” Wick slashed at him again. This time Jon caught his wrist and bent his arm back until he dropped the dagger. The gangling steward backed away, his hands upraised as if to say, Not me, it was not me. Men were screaming. Jon reached for Longclaw, but his fingers had grown stiff and clumsy. Somehow he could not seem to get the sword free of its scabbard.

Then Bowen Marsh stood there before him, tears running down his cheeks. “For the Watch.” He punched Jon in the belly. When he pulled his hand away, the dagger stayed where he had buried it.

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger’s hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. “Ghost,” he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold…

A Dance with Dragons - Jon XIII

These two passages could mean that Sansa was, in some way, hearing or sensing Ghost: “the wind was howling fiercely. It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghost wolf, big as mountains”; as the direwolf was restless and anxious the day of Jon’s death: “Easy, Ghost,” Jon called. “Down. Sit, Ghost. Down.” Yet when he made to touch him, the wolf bristled and bared his teeth”. And at the end of his chapter, Jon himself “whispered” his direwolf name, while dying.

So, with Jon’s death and the previous death of Lady, Sansa’s direwolf, we have two Stark kids incomplete. Throughout the books we can read many times that the direwolfs are part of the Stark kids. Sansa lost his direwolf and then Ghost lost Jon. Its fair to say that after that, Sansa and Jon will be a great complement for each other lost part.

Back to the seventh Sansa’s chapter of A Storm of Swords, now we have the intervention of Lord Baelish, who returned to the Eyrie that morning and helped Sansa to built her snow castle:

Her bridges kept falling down. […] The third time one collapsed on her, she cursed aloud and sat back in helpless frustration.

“Pack the snow around a stick, Sansa.”

She did not know how long he had been watching her, or when he had returned from the Vale. “A stick?” she asked.

“That will give it strength enough to stand, I’d think,” Petyr said. “May I come into your castle, my lady?”

Sansa was wary. “Don’t break it. Be …”

“… gentle?” He smiled. “Winterfell has withstood fiercer enemies than me. It is Winterfell, is it not?”

“Yes,” Sansa admitted.

He walked along outside the walls. “I used to dream of it, in those years after Cat went north with Eddard Stark. In my dreams it was ever a dark place, and cold.”

“No. It was always warm, even when it snowed. Water from the hot springs is piped through the walls to warm them, and inside the glass gardens it was always like the hottest day of summer.”

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

As we can see, Petyr has no love for Winterfell, because it reminds him that Ned Stark took Catelyn Tully away from him and went to Winterfelll with her. So, even if he says he is not a enemy of the seat of House Stark, probably he would have destroyed Winterfell with his own hands rather than help to rebuild it.

And, contrary to Jon, who thinks that Winterfell belongs to Sansa by right, Petyr talk about the great castle of the north as a gift for Sansa, a gift he will get for her through a marriage with Harry the Heir:

When Robert dies, Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harrold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. Jon Arryn’s bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon… and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden’s cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back … why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright. So those are your gifts from me, my sweet Sansa… Harry, the Eyrie, and Winterfell. That’s worth another kiss now, don’t you think?“

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

Again, Petyr is only a ‘pretender’, he will never be a true hero or a prince in Sansa’s story. Actually, I’m sure he plays the part of the monster or the savage giant. And he has no shame in express her true intentions, he asks Sansa to kiss him as a reward for his generous promise, just imagine what will he ask if he finally manages to give Winterfell to Sansa…

It is really sad that this beautiful passage of Sansa building a Winterfell of snow was interrupted by Petyr in a, to say the least, very disgusting way. I’m not talking about “his help” with the build of the castle, I’m talking about his forced kiss:

The Broken Tower was easier still. They made a tall tower together, kneeling side by side to roll it smooth, and when they’d raised it Sansa stuck her fingers through the top, grabbed a handful of snow, and flung it full in his face. Petyr yelped, as the snow slid down under his collar. “That was unchivalrously done, my lady.”

“As was bringing me here, when you swore to take me home.”

She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell.

His face grew serious. “Yes, I played you false in that … and in one other thing as well.”

Sansa’s stomach was aflutter. “What other thing?”

“I told you that nothing could please me more than to help you with your castle. I fear that was a lie as well. Something else would please me more.” He stepped closer. “This.

"Sansa tried to step back, but he pulled her into his arms and suddenly he was kissing her. Feebly, she tried to squirm, but only succeeded in pressing herself more tightly against him. His mouth was on hers, swallowing her words. He tasted of mint. For half a heartbeat she yielded to his kiss … before she turned her face away and wrenched free. "What are you doing?”

Petyr straightened his cloak. “Kissing a snow maid.”

“You’re supposed to kiss her.” Sansa glanced up at Lysa’s balcony, but it was empty now. “Your lady wife.”

“I do. Lysa has no cause for complaint.” He smiled. “I wish you could see yourself, my lady. You are so beautiful. You’re crusted over with snow like some little bear cub, but your face is flushed and you can scarcely breathe. How long have you been out here? You must be very cold. Let me warm you, Sansa. Take off those gloves, give me your hands.”

“I won’t.” He sounded almost like Marillion, the night he’d gotten so drunk at the wedding. Only this time Lothor Brune would not appear to save her; Ser Lothor was Petyr’s man. “You shouldn’t kiss me. I might have been your own daughter …”

“Might have been,” he admitted, with a rueful smile. “But you’re not, are you? You are Eddard Stark’s daughter, and Cat’s. But I think you might be even more beautiful than your mother was, when she was your age.”

“Petyr, please.” Her voice sounded so weak. “Please …”

— A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

In fact, it is horribly sad that, in a moment when Sansa realized that the memory of her home and the symbolic act of rebuilding it, make her stronger and courageous to face the truth and the reality: From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell”, she is attacked by a man who pretend to be her own father by kissing her in the mouth. And the fact that Petyr used the same words of another Sansa’s molester that attacked her not so long ago, just make the situation even worse. And it seems like Petyr would have continued with their actions if Robert would not have appeared.

(I felt the same when in Game of Thrones S5 Sansa said: “I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell. This is my home. And you can’t frighten me.” And immediately after that… Well, you all know what happened to her. I will always hate the show for that.)

But, when Sansa actually returns to Winterfell, I think the walls of their home will give her much more strength and courage than her snow castle built in the Eyrie, and she will be able not only to hit Petyr in the face with a handful of snow, but slay him and put his head atop of Winterfell’s walls, just as the prophecy of the Ghost of High Heart says: “I dreamt that maid again, slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow”. And the fact that she already hit Petyr’s face with a “handful of snow”, makes me think about Jon Snow punching him in the face with his bare hands over and over and over again. That would be really sweet.

And talking about Jon Snow, noted the difference between Petyr’s forced kiss and Sansa embracing the snowflakes in her face with these lines: Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks. […] she turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams. 


So yes, Jon Snow is the silent, unknown and unthought answer to Sansa’s hopes. And everytime I read about how Sansa and Jon have zero romantic connections in the books, I feel the need to revisit my long post, that you can read here

Important Female Characters that have been cut out of Game of Thrones

Arianne Martell: The female heir to Dorne who demands recognition and acknowledgement and refuses to be passed over.

“You will not rob me of my birthright!”

Wylla Manderly: Grandaughter of Wyman Manderly, insults the Freys in front of a hall full of people and refuses to be married off. And she has green hair which is pretty sick.

“He was our king! He was brave and good, and the Freys murdered him. If Lord Stannis will avenge him, we should join Lord Stannis”

Val: Sister of mance Rayder’s wife Dalla (who has also been cut) said to be extremely beautiful yet is fiercely independent and strong.

“I am no southron lady but a woman of the free folk. I know the forest better than all your black cloaked rangers. It holds no ghosts for me.”

Mya Stone: One of Robert Baratheon’s bastards, lives in the vale and is in charge of helping people up to the Eyrie.

“Men come and go. They lie, or die, or leave you. A mountain is not a man, though, and stone is a mountain’s daughter. I trust my father, and I trust my mules. I won’t fall.”

Lady Stoneheart: *spoiler alert or not really because she won’t be in the show* Catelyn Stark resurrected seeking revenge on the Frey’s and leading the Brotherhood without banners (there’s your revenge plot D&D)

“She don’t speak. You bloody bastards cut her throat too deep for that. But she remembers.”

Asha Greyjoy: not to be confused with whoever “Yara” Greyjoy is, Asha does not believe in flippantly calling people “cunts” and is not scared of dogs.

“My mother raised me to be bold”

Alysane Mormont: Fights with Stannis’ army and guards Asha when she is captured (oops not really spoilers again) and don’t tell me that they don’t become best friends because they do.

“Mormont women are skinchangers. We turn into bears and find mates in the woods.”

Barbrey Dustin: The widow of Lord Dustin, hates the Starks because she blames Ned for the death of her husband. She is cunning, intelligent and one of Roose Bolton’s biggest supporters in Winterfell (but you know in the show no northern lords are in Winterfell because logic)

The bride weeps … Dressing her in grey and white serves no good if the girl is left to sob. The Freys might not care, but the northmen … they fear the Dreadfort, but they love the Starks.“

All these women are unique, different and complicated, even though some of them do not fit into d&d’s “strong women” or “sexually empowered” archetypes they are important and interesting parts of the story. All of these amazing characters were axed in favor of a storyline depicting a violent rape and that is truly unforgivable and disgusting.

anonymous asked:

Why do you think Ned listens to Jon's pleas when they find the direwolf puppies? Is it the sense of the prophetic and that link to Rhaegar? Or is it because Jon hits on the symbolic link Ned picks up ton?

Thanks for the question, Anon.

I think the simplest explanation is best, what Bran himself thinks:

“Lord Stark,” Jon said. It was strange to hear him call Father that, so formal. Bran looked at him with desperate hope. “There are five pups,” he told Father. “Three male, two female.”

“What of it, Jon?”

“You have five trueborn children,” Jon said. “Three sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord.”

Bran saw his father’s face change, saw the other men exchange glances. He loved Jon with all his heart at that moment. Even at seven, Bran understood what his brother had done. The count had come right only because Jon had omitted himself. He had included the girls, included even Rickon, the baby, but not the bastard who bore the surname Snow, the name that custom decreed be given to all those in the north unlucky enough to be born with no name of their own.

Their father understood as well. “You want no pup for yourself, Jon?” he asked softly.

“The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark,” Jon pointed out. “I am no Stark, Father.”

Their lord father regarded Jon thoughtfully.

If there is something we readers come to understand about Ned Stark, it’s that, even more than being a just man, Ned is a merciful one. It’s what helps to cause his downfall - telling Cersei about his discoveries toward the children’s bastardy specifically because he knew Robert would kill them, and her, if he found out. He is not one to let weak and innocent things die by his own deeds, and I think that went for the direwolf pups as well. 

Still, I think competing in his mind was his unwillingness to single out Jon as not his son. Ned had taken unusual steps in raising Jon, beyond what would be expected of a highborn lord and his bastard son: he had not only acknowledged Jon as his son, but he had brought Jon to Winterfell, had him take lessons with his trueborn children, and had his master-at-arms train him in the yard alongside his heir. He had taken great pains, in other words, to show that Jon was his own. But, if Ned agreed to keep the direwolf pups, he would be making a public statement of separating Jon from his trueborn children; after all, without the party having discovered Ghost, Jon would have no direwolf pup to keep. 

Hence why Bran “understood what his brother had done”. Jon openly gave Lord Eddard an out. By announcing that he was “no Stark”, Jon set himself on the other side of that line, without Ned having to do it himself. Jon would acknowledge what Ned was reluctant to do: that he was the Bastard of Winterfell, with no more right to a direwolf than to the use of the one from his father’s arms.

The Queen Regent (NFriel)

Jon x Female Reader

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Imagine looking after Ghost whilst he’s missing and when Jon discovers it was you who took care of him, the two of you bond. 

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

\ Request from anonymous /

could you do a Jon Snow imagine where the reader is introduced to Jon after Ghost’s disappearance (you know how Ghost was missing until the 5th episode of season 4)? so maybe she had been taking care of Ghost that whole while and he became attached to her, which is why Jon and the reader form a bond :p TY! idk if that made sense, I hope it did lol

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

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A Raven Among Crows: Pt 3

Originally posted by lordcrow

You’re a woman disguised as a man at The Wall, but no one knows.

Part One  Part Two  Part Four 

(Y/M/N)= Your Male Name

(Y/N)= Your Name

The wind started to pick up, it started howl in everyones ears that the horses started neighing. 

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A Walking Disaster

Pairing; Robb Stark x Female Reader 

A/N: This is the first thing I’ve ever written on tumblr, so hopefully it is good! Feedback is welcomed with open arms! Also, in my perfect GoT world, Robb was never dead and gets to go back to Winterfell and remain King in the North

Warnings: N/A

Prompt: As a token of gratitude to the King in the North, your father decides to ship you off to Winterfell to become a Lady in Waiting to the King’s younger sister, Sansa Stark. Unfortunately, you find yourself messing up left and right.

 You had to be the worst lady-in-waiting the seven kingdoms had ever seen.

Honestly, Ghost probably could’ve done a better job than you and he didn’t even have working thumbs. 

 It had been about 2 months since you had walked through the gates of Winterfell and joined the royal court. It had also been about 2 months of a constant flow of royal screw ups. 

After the sack of King’s Landing, everyone had shown their gratitude toward the Northern army and their King, Robb Stark. The reign of King Renly could not have come about without their help and as a sign of gratitude, Renly had granted the Young Wolf his request to be separated from the seven kingdoms.

Following in Renly’s act of kindness, you father had also given the King of the North 60 of his most skilled men and you as a lady-in-waiting to Sansa.

As a lady-in-waiting, it was your job to follow Sansa around and do practically everything with her. Sadly, for you, that meant doing the type of things you weren’t very good at. It wasn’t like the tasks were hard, you were just a very accident prone person; as your father would always tell people. Whenever you were presented with an activity or task, it had been followed by some type of disaster. 

Including the current one where you had accidentally set Lord Umber on fire.

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Sweet Revenge

(Jon x Reader)

Request:  Hi! Loved your Halloween idea! I was thinking about a GoT one shot: in the book there’s a chapter where Arya remembers when Robb took her and Sansa to the crypt in Winterfell, telling them about ghosts; then Jon, cover with flour, scared the shit out of them. Well, could you write a sweet revenge for the girls? With # 1, 11 and 17. If you add a fem reader would be great!

1.  “Stop touching my shoulder!” - “Y/N I’m walking in front of you…”

11.  I accidently walked into this dark room and now the door is stuck…what was that? Is someone else in here?

17.  “Don’t say that! Now something is bound to happen.”

Robb was leading you down into the crypt, telling the three of you about the ghosts that lived here. Arya was laughing while you and Sansa were genuinely scared.

“They’re probably watching us right now.” Arya jokes, not faced by anything Robb was telling you.

“Don’t say that! Now something is bound to happen.” You gasp and look at her in horror.

“Arya’s right…” Robb says with a smile and keeps walking.

“Robb! Stop it.” You hiss back.

He puts up his hands in defeat, “Alright, alright.”

“And stop touching my shoulder!”

“Y/N I’m walking in front of you…how am I supposed to touch your shoulder?”

You slowly turn your head back but there’s nothing to see. You take a deep breath and shake your head, he was getting to you more than you would like to admit.  

You kept walking deeper into the crypt, the sunlight quickly fading until the torch was the only source of light left. You just had to go with them, hadn’t you? Normally you weren’t really scared of anything but ghost stories just got to you somehow.

“What’s in there?” Sansa asks, pointing to a door while she keeps a tight grip on your hand.

“Why don’t you take a look.” Robb answers and you both look at each other shaking your head.

Though Arya had other plans, “What are you doing?” You whisper as you see her, walking over to the door and opening it.

“There’s nothing in there, I’ve been down here before.”

You sigh and walk over to here, all three standing in the little room, looking around for anything out of the ordinary. You and Sansa jump as the door falls shut behind you, both quickly spinning around with a face full of shock.

You try to open the door but it’s shut tight. Sansa grips her torch tighter only to let it fall to the ground seconds later when out of nowhere Jon jumps out from behind a corner, all covered in floor. You scream, all three of you scared to death until Jon starts to love and Robb opens the door again with a big grin on his face.

“Are you two out of your minds?” You yell at them, “Assholes!” You say angrily and storm out of the room and up the stairs. Jon was going to regret that shit.

“Jon! Jon!” Sansa hurried over to him, seeing him in the yard the next morning.

“What’s wrong?” He asks confused.

“There’s someone at the gates who wants to see you.”


He was half expecting it to be a joke, a little revenge for yesterday but when he saw the guy dressed in black armor he stopped and looked at him. He raised his sword at him without saying a word and walked over.

“What do you want?” Jon asks but doesn’t get an answer, only the sword cutting into the air right next to him.

Jon picks up one of the training swords nearby and rushes to attack as well. It doesn’t take long and he’s down on the ground, sword pointed at his throat.

You start to laugh and take off the helmet you were wearing, “That was pathetic…but it serves you right.”

Jon stares after you open mouthed, not able to believe that he just lost to a girl and even quicker than in any other fight he had before.

Marked by Snow - Jon Snow

Soulmate AU where your mark can only be seen by your soulmate and no one else.

Trigger warning: attempted rape

This is my first Jon Snow and Game of Thrones piece so if you enjoyed it make sure you request more!

You tied up the front of your dress, your fingers ghosting over the intricate snowflake that was splayed over your chest. The middle of the snowflake was in the middle of your cleavage and the rest of it branched out over your breasts.

Y/N, you need to hurry. Lord Bolton will wake soon and you must help him bathe.” Margaret said, fussing around with her apron.

“Why did I get dressed then?”

“Because he enjoys watching you undress”

“He’s a monster. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again”

“He’s keeping you out of the cold. Winter is coming”

And with that, Margaret left. The servants managed to sneak the Stark motto into conversations to remind each other of their allegiance to House Stark. You were Arya Stark’s tutor before Ned Stark’s head was decapitated. Theon let you live only because he had a soft spot for you. Only when the Boltons took over, the other servants helped you to hide the fact that you were her tutor and thus you stopped studying books and started scrubbing floors.

You left your quarters and walked through the castle to Ramsay’s room. You knocked on the door and pushed it open after hearing Ramsay’s voice grant you access.

“I’m here to bathe you, my lord”

“Yes, someone already filled the tub with hot water,” Ramsay said looking you up and down.

“Aren’t you a bit too overdressed for this occasion?”

He rose out of his bed, stark naked.

“I’m sorry my lord” You quickly undressed and folded your dress neatly and left it on the floor next to your boots.

Ramsay stepped into the hot bath tub and sat down prompting you to follow after him. You stepped in and sat between his legs on your knees, thankfully he was using the wide tub so sitting on his dick was avoided. You took the soap bar and rag that was sitting on the side and began to rub the soap into his pale skin.

“You truly are very beautiful, Y/N”

“Thank you, my lord”

“If I wasn’t already married to Sansa and the Warden of the North, I would be married to you.”

You shivered at the thought of being married to Ramsay and continued to clean his body.

“Where is your mark Y/N?” He asked, his hands running down your side.

“My hip, my lord” you lied.

“What’s it of?”

“An arrow” you lied again. 

It was in actual fact your friend’s mark. To you, the soulmate mark was sacred, no one but the person that completed you should know what it was. Your friend told you what her mark was because she wanted someone to know what it was. No one she showed the mark to could see what it was and she was afraid that no one else ever would. She was proud of the arrow, it was beautiful and she thought that someone else should know what it looked like.

His hand trailed to your hip.

“Is it here?”  He asked squeezing it.

You tensed and nodded, quickly getting up.

“I must clean your back,” you said, stepping out of the tub.

Ramsay moved forward as you chose to stay out of the tub and finished washing him. Once he decided that he was clean enough he let you get redressed.

“I want you back in here when I’m back. Once I’ve killed Jon Snow I will need someone to celebrate with.”

You knew what that meant. None of the other girls ever worried about being called to Ramsay’s chambers only because he had Myranda.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like Myranda to come, my lord?”

“She’s a bit too boring now. I want you to take her place”

“Yes, my lord”

You kept quiet about what Ramsay asked of you, only because Myranda scared you a bit. Ramsay had twisted and warped her mind and she was possessive over him, you would like to live when Jon Snow won the battle and won his home back.

When the battle had started, you and 2 of your friends hid in broom cupboards. The three of you were deathly silent as you waited for the outcome of the war. Either way, you were safe-ish. If Ramsay won then the three of you would still have work and a place to stay, only you would be forced to Serve at Ramsay’s every beck and call. If Jon won then you would be free from working as a slave and everyone would be treated kindly as Ned Stark once treated you.

You didn’t know how long the three of you were stuffed in the cupboard but you heard the screams of a man and the low growls of dogs.

“I’ll see what happened. They might have breached the castle.”

You slipped out of the broom cupboard and walked around the castle. Knights of the Vale and wildlings were walking around also.

“Look who we have here.” A knight said looking you up and down

“Whats your name lass?” Another one asked you


“You look very pretty, Y/N”

“Thank you, Ser. Am I right in believing that Ramsay Bolton was defeated?”

“Just, we managed to come in the nick of time and save snow’s arse.”

“Thank you, Ser’s. The people of Winterfell are in your debt.”

The three men were making you very uncomfortable and you tried your best to keep them sweet in an effort to pass through them.

“You can make it up to me. Can’t she?”

The knight turned to look at his friends. They all laughed, clearly drunk. You tried to use their fit of laughter as a way to slip through them but one of them grabbed you harshly and pinned you between his body and the stone wall.

“You’re going to thank me, right here, right now”

He thrust his tongue into your mouth as his hands ripped the top of your dress open, exposing your top half to the cold winter air and his two friends. You tried to push him away but he held your wrists in his hands preventing you from doing anything. His mouth moved from your lips to your neck as you screamed for help. The knight clamped his hand over your mouth and forced you to the floor. 

Just as he managed to free himself from the bottom half of his armour, Jon snow himself, accompanied by 3 other men turned the corner. The two bystanders ran off with a wildling fast behind them. Jon ripped the man off you and towards a tall red-haired wildling.

“Tormund, get him out of my sight.” He practically growled.

Jon’s eyes stopped at your chest as he stared at your mark. Your hand went to shield yourself from his eyes. He shook his head and took off his cloak for you to cover yourself with.

“Forgive me, but the snowflake on your chest was beautiful. Are you okay? He didn’t actually?” He placed a hand on your back.

“No, you came just at the right moment, thank you, my lord.”

“You’re bleeding.” He commented with a frown, seeing his fingers coated with red.

He helped you up.

“They don’t look that bad, I’ll help you clean them up”

“you don’t need to my lord, I’m sure I can ask someone else”

“Anyone else already has their hands full dealing with the casualties. I do know how to clean scratches”

You nodded and followed him. He took a pot of water and a rag and an antiseptic paste from Margaret and lead you through the castle to what you guessed was his room.

“I’m sorry but its the only place I’d like to be right now.”

“It’s fine”

You slipped the cloak off again and his eyes were staring directly at the snowflake. You turned and sat on the bed waiting for him to wipe the blood away.

“Can you see it?” You asked.

“See what?” He replied.

“My mark”

“I’m sorry for staring-”

“You don’t understand it, do you?”

“Understand what?”

“You’re the only one who can see that huge snowflake”

He stopped wiping and placed the water on the side.

“You mean -”

“Yes, nice to meet you, other half”

He chuckled.

“I don’t even know your name”

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N”

“Arya’s tutor Y/N?”

You nodded.

“You were right under my nose this entire time and I didn’t even know it?”

“If you stayed at the wall, you would never have known it. Can I see yours?”

He nodded and removed his armour and undershirt. You saw a feather quill down his side and traced it with your finger.

“It’s huge” You commented.

The feather started right under his armpit and went down three-quarters of his torso.

“So is yours. I still need to apply the paste.” 

You got up from the bed and had your back facing Jon. His fingers worked quickly applying a layer of the antiseptic on the scratches. Once he was done he wiped his fingers on the rag.

“I’ll go and find you some clothes”

You nodded as he slipped on his undershirt and left the room. You sat back on the bed and used the cloak to cover your bare chest. You were sat idly waiting for his return and your head looked around the room. This room could be yours soon if Jon accepted you. From the way he acted towards you, there was no sign to say he wouldn’t. However, the pessimist side of you thought that he wouldn’t. He would have to marry a high-born lady or a princess to keep his power in the North and you were only just a tutor. He was gone for a very long time and you felt like falling asleep, which was what you were going to do until you heard the heavy door creak open.

“I’m sorry I took so long, I had to deal wth some political matters. Your friend, Margaret, gave me a night dress and a new dress for you to wear in the morning.”

You got up and took the dresses from him.

“Thank you my lord”

“Jon. You of all people needn’t call me my lord”

“Thank you, Jon” you corrected.

He smiled and you pulled the remnants of your dress down so that it pooled to the floor. A blush crept onto Jon’s face as he tried to look away but ultimately failed. You stepped out of the dress and took the night dress in one hand and put your normal day dress on the bed. The dress was slipped over your head and you sat back down.

“What was this room used for while I was gone?”

“Well, your father didn’t change anything after you left for the wall, Theon left it as it was and Ramsay was going to use it as a ‘guest room’ but since no one wanted to stay with the sick fucker, it wasn’t used.”

“Smart and mouthy? I’ve struck gold with you”

You cheeks heated up as he stared at you.

“I hope I’m not being too forward but I’d like you to sleep with me in my chambers from now on. Now that I know your significance, I’d like you to stay with me so I can protect you”

“It’s understandable. Well, I’m going to sleep now”

“I’ll join you, today has been a long day.”

You walked to the other side of the bed and pulled back the furs and slotted yourself into the mattress. Jon stripped down into cotton trousers and took his place next to you.

“Good night, Y/N”

“Good night, Jon”

At first, you kept to your side of the bed. You didn’t want to overstep so you gave him his space, but it was cold. The layers of fur were keeping out most of the cold air but when you could feel the warm air radiating from Jon it took all of your power to not snuggle up to the heat source. You flipped over for the millionth time and sighed quietly.

“Can’t sleep?” Jon asked, turning over onto his back.

“It’s colder than usual.”

“Winter is here, so it’s expected.”

“Do you mind if we cuddle? I hear you conserve heat that way”

He nodded and you moved closer to him. You liked sleeping on your tummy so your face was buried into his chest as one leg was flung over his, you were practically sleeping on top of him. His hand rested on your head as if it was second nature and the extra warmth help you get to sleep.

That night you slept amazingly. You didn’t know if it was because you were sleeping with your soulmate or whether is was because the bed was so damn soft, either way, you didn’t want your sleeping arrangement to change.

let him be afraid of me

[a tribute to northern mothers; forgotten, unnamed, or maligned]

Part 1 of the series gentle mother, strength of women

i. Lyarra Stark

Lyarra Stark was a sister, a daughter, and a woman of the North. She was a Flint and a Stark; the daughter of Arya Fleetfoot and the Wandering Wolf. When her sister went south to marry and never once sent a raven, Lyarra didn’t accept it quietly.

Thirty years before Rickard Stark died in the Red Keep, he met a girl named Lyarra.

Or: Rickard’s southron ambitions were never solely his.

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Request - Could you do at Game of Thrones imagine where the reader is married to Robb and they’re deeply in love but when he goes to war he cheats on her with Talisa and Jon is there when she finds out 

Pairing - Robb Stark X Reader

Wordcount - 3000

Warnings - Strong Language, mature themes, violence 

Multi-shot - Yes 

Author’s Note - I might have gone too overboard with this request but I couldn’t stop writing it. - (Y/F/S/N) - Your first son’s name. (Y/S/S/N) - Your second son’s name. 



Before the war everything was so different, Robb and (Y/N) were deeply in love. After the birth of their first son, (Y/F/S/N) the strength of their marriage and their love for each other only seemed to blossom further. Robb was an great husband and an incredible Father. He would bring (Y/N) flowers and made sure she had everything she desired, even when she repeatedly told him that she had everything she could possibly want. (Y/N) and Robb were the perfect family unit and nothing would ever separate them or so she thought.

The death of her Father in-law, Ned Stark caused choas and corruption. Ned was loved among the people of Winterfell, his wrongful imprisonment had put people on edge but his death was what had caused the people  to want to go to war. The matter only seemed to worsen when the Lannisters refused to let Sansa and Arya go. The war truly broke out between the Lannisters and the North. Robb at first would occasionally return to Winterfell to visit (Y/N) and (Y/F/S/N) but soon it became un-practical. That final night, (Y/N) had begged Robb not to leave even know she felt selfish for doing so, she understood why Robb had to stay out at war permanently but she only longed for him to keep her warm at night and have knowledge her husband was safe. So that night before he left they made indescribable love where she conceived her second child, a boy who would be born nine moons later, her son wouldn’t see his father when his eyes first opened. His Father would only be given word of his sons arrival. He would probably not see him for several name sakes.

However there would be one man in their lives who became (Y/N) greatest asset to her. Whether he was consorting what to do with the people of Winterfell and the vital issues to helping raise the two boys. Jon Snow became a life saver and a great support system. While Robb was away Jon became the man (Y/N) relied on. (Y/N) sat in her chamber rocking (Y/S/S/N) back to sleep. It was late, he had been fed and changed but (Y/S/S/N) was not having any of it tonight.  

“Sh now. Your wake (Y/F/S/N) and Uncle Jon. Mummy loves you and so does Daddy. He’s off fighting a veracious Lion who has taken Aunt Sansa and Aunt Arya. One day he is going to come riding home, the Stark banner riding high in the sky. Everyone will be cheering and celebrating, when the King of the North returns with your Aunt’s and on that day we will be a family again” (Y/N) expressed as (Y/S/S/N) wriggled around her arms. He had not stopped crying, (Y/N) didn’t know what else to do. When there was a sharp brisk knock on the wooden door, the baby who was creeping up to witnessing his sixth moon only to began to cry louder. She pulled the door open to reveal Jon standing there looking tired and weary. 

“(Y/N), I thought you might need some assistance. Rest assured (Y/F/S/N) is still deep in slumber” (Y/N) smiled before stepping aside to let Jon into her room, that she had once shared with Robb. 

“Sorry I didn’t intend for you to wake. He just won’t settle. Nights like this I wish Robb was here” (Y/N) sighed as Jon extended his arms (Y/N) gave her over her screaming son, he immediately settled down, moving closer to Jon’s body heat. (Y/S/S/N) since birth had been closer to Jon and whether he would admit it or not he rather enjoyed spending time with all of you. You accepted him as the person he was not as the bastard son of Ned Stark. 

“There one little Prince fast asleep. Mind if I lay with him for a while. You know just in case he wakes up again” (Y/N) melted at the sight of Jon and (Y/S/S/N). He was so content when he was with Jon. 

“Sure as long as you can get Sapphire off the bed” (Y/N) replied looking at the Direwolf that was sprawled out over her large bed. Sapphire had been found beside Ghost, she had white and grey fur with pointed ears. She was also (Y/N) engagement present, she couldn’t ask for a better companion or loyal protector. 

“Sapphire move” (Y/N) instructed but the Direwolf simply opened her eyes before closing them again. As much as she loved Sapphire to pieces but she could be stubborn when she wanted to be. Jon did nothing more than pull the blankets back, removing the robe he had been wearing, leaving him in a pair of comfortable looking trousers as he laid (Y/S/S/N) on his bare chest, tapping the vacant spot beside him. 

“You look exhausted. Come here and lay down. Rest while he’s asleep. I promise not to try anything”  So (Y/N) took the place beside Jon in her night wear before covering herself with the thick warm furs before drifting off to sleep knowing her sons were safe and sound.  

The following morning morning, (Y/N) stretched her arms out to find the space next to her empty. Jon and (Y/S/S/N) were gone. She hurriedly moved out of bed rushing to put on her dress for the day, preparing her (Y/C/H) in a tidy manor before finally slipping on her shoe and tying them. She ran out of her room when she bumped into her messenger, Maxwell. He had been so loyal to her in the times that they had been facing being a war with the Lannisters. 

“Maxwell have you seen Jon and (Y/S/S/N) He’s going to be need to be fed” (Y/N) asked cheerfully as she was every morning. Maxwell didn’t want to give the news that he had heard and eventually witnessed for himself. Before he came to (Y/N) he always made sure he had sustainable evidence of the news that he had to give her. Yet he couldn’t seem to tell her before she broke her fast.

“There in the meeting room, breaking their fasts. Both children were with Jon. I will need to speak with you later my Queen” (Y/N) smiled at her most loyal servant he had been away for sometime. She was eager to know what he had found  But the frown apparent in his face was concerning. 

“Maxwell breaking my fast can wait. If it ‘s bothering you we can go and discuss this now” Seeing concern in (Y/N)’s face, he knew that there would be no easy way to break the news to her. But at the same time he understood how important it was for a women nursing a child to maintain their meals. 

“My Queen, break your fast and attend to your children. I can wait while you do so” So (Y/N) went down and joined everyone to break her fast. But the whole time she worried about the news that Maxwell had for her. As she nursed (Y/S/S/N) she didn’t even hear Jon knocking on her bedroom door. 

“(Y/N), you were distracted earlier, I thought you might want to talk about it” Jon kept a respectful distance away from  (Y/N) as she sat with her back to him keeping her eyes fixated on her youngest son. 

“Maxwell comes with news and by the look on his face it’s bad news” (Y/N) cleaned herself and (Y/S/S/N) as he clearly had enough. She placed small kisses on his forehead as she turned to look at Jon. 

“Would you come with me to see what news Maxwell has for me?” (Y/N) asked in reality Jon didn’t need to be asked, he was going to attend the meeting no matter what. After (Y/N) had given her youngest son to Marie ( the children’s Nanny) to meet with Maxwell, she gathered thoughts before stepping into the room noticing Maxwell pacing back and fourth in front of the fire. 

“Maxwell it’s not like you to be phased by news. Is Robb okay?” (Y/N) asked concerned for Robb’s welfare. Maxwell collapsed onto his knees, looking ashamed of himself. 

“My Queen, please don’t hate me for what I am about to tell you. The King has been having an affair with a young women called Talisa” Affair? Talisa. Robb. No! He would never have an affair! She thought to herself. 

“Did you see them together?” (Y/N) asked quietly, Jon could see her heart breaking at the thought of Robb with someone else, he took her in his arms as her knees buckled beneath her. 

“My Queen,I have, I would never come with word of such betrayal without actual evidence. Her name is Talisa Haegyr, a noblewomen from the free city Volantis, she gained medical training relocated to Westeros when she could no longer stand slavery, the King found her sometime ago” The news devastated (Y/N), what more did Robb want from her? She bared him two beautiful sons she ran and maintained Winterfell with Jon’s aid. Yet while she was in Winterfell with their children, he was fucking some noble whore. There was no denying the pain that she felt. But seeing Maxwell so intimidated and afraid, it didn’t make her feel any easier. 

“Maxwell, it’s not your fault. I could never hate you. You are the most loyal of messengers. I consider you a loyal friend, a protector of my sons I only have one question, do you know where Robb is? She asked as she took Maxwell hands in hers.

“Of course, my Queen” (Y/N) smiled before looking up at Jon. She gave him a look that he had never seen off her before 

“Tell Marie to prepare the boys for travel. Pack your bags or travel. Gather food, water and blankets for the journey. Get twenty of our best men, make sure their prepared. Maxwell,will you take us to Robb” Maxwell and Jon were surprised at how calm she was. But in  reality her heart was breaking and she desired nothing more to run to their shared room and cry. But she was Queen of the North and mother of two.

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High Hopes

Pairing: Robb Stark x Reader

Request: “hi dear can i request for a robb stark one shot? the reader was betrothed to robb but went missing during the war of the five kings, everyone assumed that she died. robb was miserable but had to move on and marry someone to produce heir (he defeated the lannisters). after two years, she appears to be alive and it turns out that she was captured and tortured by ramsay and theon helped her to escape.”

A/N: I switched this request around a bit considering I just did one where the reader was Ramsay’s captive and none of the events would have happened in Westeros if Robb would’ve won. I kind of liked what I did more, sorry if this doesn’t please the person who requested it!! 


He’d actually won. They had called him a boy as if it were an insult. But, now they should be the ones insulted. They were beaten by a boy and while their heads stood on spikes, his wore a crown. This wasn’t a prize for himself though, this was to save everyone he had left to love. His mother, sisters, brothers, and his people, they were all safe because he actually won. But, as he sits on a throne and calls himself King, he can’t find the glory. His glory was lost in a girl he thought he could keep safe. 

It’s been 14 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days since he walked away from his hope of a happy ending and every single day he wishes he could go back. He thinks about that night in her room as if it were just the other day. He remembers every word and even as time goes on it feels like a jagged blade is being shoved into his stomach and twisted like a wheel. 

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Jon Snow X Reader – Woman of the Watch

A/N – This was an anon request at who are a great imagine blog btw. So I hope you enjoy this overly long one-shot anon and I hope you saw the link I posted for it.

Request: Could you write a one shot of Jon Snow, where the reader is the only female nights watch member (like a cook or seamstress) and Ghost tries to get them together.

Thorne had seen many come to the wall and many die at the wall, he’d seen the youngest of boys pass through, he’d mentored rapists, murderers, and scum from all walks of life but during all his time as a member of the Night’s Watch he had never been so disgusted as today; the day he introduced you, a woman, to the Night’s Watch.

He had argued with Jeor Mormont, his Lord Commander that the wall was no place for a woman but if some rich prick of a lord wanted you here then there was nothing to be done about the controversial situation.

The icy air swirled around you cutting like daggers, every winter ever experienced paled in comparison to the glacial cold of the wall.

“Attention all men of the Night’s Watch,” Thorne’s voice boomed through the courtyard, he needn’t have called them at all for at the sight of a woman standing atop the courtyard’s steps they’d all congregated to ogle at you; although you knew their reactions to be inevitable it still made you feel uneasy, a fact you hid with silent dignity.

“This is (Y/N), for reasons I cannot disclose she is to become the first woman of the Night’s Watch,” the announcement ran heavy with disdain, and the men of the watch stood divided with a mix of emotions, some pity, a few uneasy, but mostly lust; it was the lust that frightened you.

“Wait, you mean she’s to fight with us,” a common voice spoke up from the back.

“No you daft bastard, she’ll be in the kitchen cooking and sowing.”

“About time we got a new chef, our last one was ugly as fuck,” another voice heckled, gaining a cheer from the crowd.

“Need I remind you craven bastards of your vows. If anyone is found to have broken their vows they will be cast out of the Night’s Watch and executed, am I clear?”

There was a mumbled agreement of “Yes sir”.


“Yes Commander,” the men chanted louder this time.

Thorne continued addressing the men on duties but your attention was drawn to one man in particular, a man with shaggy hair and dark eyes, eyes which bore into you intensely.

“JON SNOW,” Thorne roared, removing the man’s attention from you.

“Yes commander,” Snow approached, keeping a safe distance from you.

“You are to show Miss (L/N) to her work station and then to her chambers, and for fuck’s sake get her a fucking cloak before she freezes to death.”

“Yes Commander.”

Thorne left and an awkward silence befell the two of you, Jon was unsure of what the proper conduct was in this situation, did he offer his arm, apologise for the commander’s foul language, move briskly on? In truth since no situation of the like had ever occurred before he opted for offering you his cloak, knowing that none of the cloaks would fit you anyway and he could get another later.

“Thank you,” you took the cloak tentatively, Jon stifled a smile upon seeing the cloak drowning your smaller figure.

The tour was short lived and it ended in the small kitchen behind the great hall, Ghost was laying calmly under the table but stood attentively upon seeing his master enter.

“Oh My God” you exclaimed, getting a look at the giant dire wolf.

Jon mentally berated himself for forgetting to warn you about Ghost, “Ah, this is Ghost, there’s no need to be afr-”

“He is amazing,” you cut Jon off leaning down and offering your hand to Ghost who appreciatively sniffed it, wagging his tail contentedly.

Jon watched the transaction in shock, most men feared Ghost but here stood a woman who was not only ok with Ghost but actually excited to see him.

“Is he yours?” you asked between petting Ghost.

“Yes, he came here with me. Ghost – This is (Y/N), you’re going to stay with her and protect her on a night from now on ok.”

Ghost gave a low grunt in return and Jon gave a satisfied nod before leaving to return to his normal duties.

Weeks passed and you had begun getting used to life at the wall, some of the men still treated you like meat but a lot of them treated you like a sister or sweetheart bringing you wooden carvings or stories of their past; these were the men that you’d often sneak extra rations out to if you could. The moments you really relished though were those when Jon would visit, it didn’t happen often but you loved to hear his stories of Winterfell and his siblings while you mended clothes or prepared food.

One night in particular stayed in your mind, Jon had been sent into the kitchen on cleaning duty for failing to attack a fallen member of the Night’s Watch during combat training, this was when the two of you had become something more than friends but less than lovers.

Jon sat next to you washing dishes while you darned socks, he was apparently quarrelling whether to ask you a question that was playing on his mind.

He threw in his reservations and asked anyway, “(Y/N), what exactly did you do to get sent to the wall?”

The question caught you off guard, nobody had asked that yet and you’d begun to think that you wouldn’t have to say it. “Why do you want to know?”

“We both know that there’s never been a woman on the wall, so whatever crime got you sent here had to be bad.”

“It was no crime, it was an…” you searched for the word, “An injustice. I was a maid in the home of my towns’ Lord, Lord Hamish. He was not satisfied with his wife, the whores, or the other maids so he tried to entice me into his bed, I refused. So he sent me here, he said if I was to act like a fool then I should live with them too.”

Jon stood in shock, he knew Lord Hamish, he was a northern lord in one of the towns near Winterfell, a brutish man but until now he’d seemed like an honourable one.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry that you had to go through that.”

“It isn’t your fault, besides it could have been worse, I could have been killed or raped, so here I am, at the edge of the world.”

“No. No one should ever have their honour questioned like that.” He put down his plates and rested his arm on your shoulder, leaning in to comfort you.

Ghost ran in, crashing into Jon’s back, knocking his balance and making him crash on-top of you; the movement was far from graceful, Jon’s face was only inches from yours and your breathing slowed, you had noticed in the past how handsome he was but this was a whole new level of attraction you were feeling. He leapt up quickly and offered his hand to pull you up, trying not to blush; Ghost ran off as fast as he had entered, eager to avoid being berated for his unusual actions.

“Right then… I’ll be off, I have to find Ghost,” he excused himself, leaving as quickly as his legs would permit.

“… Yeah,” was your weak reply.

After the incident in the kitchen Jon avoided you as much as he could, focusing instead on training and battle strategies, even though he would never admit it he missed your presence dearly, the way you laughed, your happy outlook on a condemned life, the way you treated the other men… the way you smiled when you saw him.

No.” Jon thought. “I will remember my vows and not become infatuated with someone I can never be with… even if I’ve never wanted anything more.

Ghost hadn’t helped the situation any, he kept removing objects from your chambers into the courtyard which Jon would try and return before anyone noticed. Since his previous efforts to get his master to visit you had been unsuccessful a change of tactics was in order; late that night Ghost came into your chambers and walked past you, this was something you were used to by now as the dire wolf often came and went as he pleased. What you weren’t prepared for was when he took the hairbrush from the nightstand and ran off.

“Ghost, come back here with that,” you whispered with urgency, giving chase to the dire wolf. You were under specific orders not to leave your room when it got late so that the men wouldn’t be tempted to do anything that would interfere with their vows.

Ghost ran around Castle Black, pushing into one of the rooms on the other side, you didn’t know what room this was so you followed him in, being careful to be quiet in case anyone was around; the wolf rounded a corner and placed the brush on the ground where you retrieved it ready to leave.

“(Y/N),” Jon spoke behind you, sounding a little strangled.

You turned around ready to explain the situation but stopped short when you saw that Jon was dripping wet wearing nothing but s towel around his waist, you blushed crimson and covered your eyes.

Jon slammed the door shut in case anyone came past, “(Y/N), what is going on here? Why are you in my chambers?”

“I am so sorry, Ghost brought me here I swear, I’ll just leave now and-”

You were silenced by a hand covering your mouth, “Quiet for a minute, someone’s going by,” he whispered in your ear, standing unnecessarily close to you. When he was sure that no one was nearby anymore he uncovered your mouth, the two of you stood still for a moment unsure of what to do.

“You, uh, you should go,” he ushered you to the door, still holding onto the towel.

“Jon wait. While I appreciate that now’s not a great time I need to know something, why do you keep avoiding me?”

“You’re right, now isn’t a great time.”

“Please Jon, I miss my friend… I miss you.”

You raised your hand to his cheek, desperate for an answer, your eyes searching his; he breathed in your scent, wishing this could last forever but knowing that it couldn’t. “Why doesn’t she get it, I love her… Oh gods no, I love her.” Suddenly the thought was too much, he pushed into you kissing you hungrily, vows or no vows he needed to know the taste of you.

He pulled away as fast as he had kissed you, both of you were panting heavily.

“Wha- Since when- How long have you felt like this?” you stammered.

“Too long, not long enough, I don’t know. Damn it. We can’t be together, I made vows. Gods I made vows.”

Confused tears were forming in your eyes; you knew what you had to do but it didn’t make it any easier “You’re an honourable man Jon, I won’t make you question your vows, I won’t bother you again.”

Jon grabbed your arm unable to see you walk out of his life, he had no idea what he was doing. How could he possibly choose between his vows and you, the only good thing about the wall.

“Wait, don’t leave.”


“Because I… Because Ghost likes you.”

“Ghost. Really, that’s what you’re giving me here?”

“I can’t… I can’t take a wife.”

“I never asked you to.”

“(Y/N), will you stay with me? I know it’s selfish and I can’t give you anything but I want you to stay, not for Ghost, but for me.”

You paused for a moment unsure of what to do, “Do you think we can make this work?”

Jon smiled and kissed your forehead, “If the wolf thinks we can then I don’t see why not.”

Arya reunites...

((Hehe, here ya go anon! i decided to start out with something where all the characters already have established personalities. Ummm I did my best to keep them as far away from being OOC as I could…BUT I havent’ written for Arya more than…well once I think…so I don’t have her down just yet. Also, Sandor…uhhhh….I don’t even know how well I wrote him.. Sorry!))

Word Count: 1,331

The Twins were filled with noise as the wedding of Edmure Tully and Roslin Frey continued well into the night. Outside the castle were tents full of Northern and Riverlanders, drinking, eating, and cursing under the moon, inside the great hall sat the King in the North, his Mother, his honor guard, the newlyweds, Walder Frey, and a few of his children/grandchildren. A small fight between a Frey and Smalljon Umber had broken out but was quickly quieted with Robb himself stepping between the two men and handing them both tankards of ale.

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anonymous asked:

Apart from temperament , do you see any major differences between Jon and Robb? What would change if they were in each other's shoes? Sometimes I find them so similar...

(Thank you, my anonymous friend, I have been meaning to pull these thoughts together for ages. I hope you’re in the mood for a novel.)

“Temperament” covers a lot of ground, so to start off being clear what I mean about that: in terms of their psychological default settings, so to speak, I think that both Robb and Jon take after their mothers. But tendencies aren’t the same thing as destiny. Environment and context matter, and individual experiences matter. That’s where the really interesting parallels and divergences between the two characters come into play.

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Jon x Sansa Week: Day Two

II. Direwolf

It isn’t Sansa’s fault. She isn’t certain of much at the moment, but, “It is not my fault.”

And really, wasn’t it just like Jon to get upset over the most trivial of things. She was a highborn lady. She deserved lovely things in her life.

“Sansa,” Jon grumped at her - at her! “How much have you had to drink?”

“Pft, only a little,” Sansa used both hands to wave aside Jon’s concern, measuring out what she was sure would seem a goblet sized amount from Jon’s perspective. She’s not sure she succeeded, because Jon’s face has gone from broodingly concerned to mostly alarmed.

“Sansa,” Jon started again, and Sansa just knew that whatever Jon was going to say next was going to be boring.

“I like for things to be pretty! Is that so wrong?”

“No, Sansa. It’s just that -”

“I like flowers and butterflies, and pretty dresses and pretty songs and pretty words. And it’s not stupid. I know everyone is always saying that it is stupid, that I’m just a stupid little girl…”

“No one is saying that you’re stupid. Sansa -”

“And I’m not! I can be brave and fierce, and I’ve survived and I deserve pretty things. And I deserve to be happy, and pretty things make me happy, and -”

“Sansa, I want you to be happy!”

“- and don’t think that you can make feel bad about this because Ghost wanted to be pretty too!”

And Ghost was pretty. He had such silky white fur, if only Jon would brush him more. And even his red eyes, which Sansa had found unnerving as child, were terrifyingly beautiful.

Jon’s lips were all tilted up in that stupid half smile of his. “He’s the prettiest direwolf in all the land. Now Sansa -”

“Don’t Sansa me! You’re making fun!” Sansa overbalanced as she went to stomp her foot, and her flower crown tipped and her drink spilled, and for a moment everything was awful.

Then Sansa licked at the beaded trail of the sour goat’s milk on her fingers and down her wrist, and somehow Jon had gotten close enough to right her flower crown, and maybe things weren’t so bad after all.

“I thought Ghost would want to feel pretty is all. You don’t need to be so broody and grumpy about it,” Sansa declared, because she was the Queen of Flowers tonight and no King of the North would take that from her like a goblet of - wait. “That’s mine!”

Jon sniffed at his stolen drink, before taking a quick sip. “This is a Free Folk drink.”

“Of course it is. Tormund gave it me,” Really Jon could be so dense.

“Why - why was Tormund giving you -”

“Because I asked him for it!” Honestly.

“Why would you want -”

“I wanted something stronger than wine, and I asked Tormund if he had anything and he did. And he gave me a skin filled with this sour goat’s milk, and I had some and after the first little bit I liked it so I had some more.”

“I thought you were pleased when Manderly brought some good Dornish vintages with him.” Jon just didn’t get it. He was hopeless.

“It’s because people are always giving me things!”

“Yes. Because you’re Sansa and the Lady of Winterfell.”

“Pretty things.”

“… I thought you liked pretty things.”

“I do. Honestly Jon, what does that have to do with anything?”

The look on Jon’s face was sublimely frustrated. Good. “Why does the gift of pretty things make you upset enough to get this drunk?”

“I’m not drunk. I am barely inebriated Jon Snow. Please and thank you,” Sansa said pointedly, and then poked him the chest with her still drink-less hand. “Your Grace.”

“Sansa -” Really, why was he being so stubborn about this?

“They give me stupid things! Stupid and useless pretty things. And they give you food for the larder, and men to fight wars with, and they give me silks and flowers, and -”

“And what, Sansa?” When had Jon gotten close enough to grasp her by the chin, to look straight in her eyes. It was unnerving that he moved so quickly like that, didn’t he know that?

“Don’t do that,” Sansa swatted at his hand, and wasn’t sure why he looked so hurt. She certainly wasn’t strong enough to do that.

“Sansa, you’re not pretty and useless -”

“You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“No! I mean - I mean, Sansa, you’re -” Jon stepped back, raked a hand through his curls and then tossed back the rest of the fermented milk in Sansa’s chalice in one go.

It was impressive. That is to say, Sansa, who had only managed little sips all evening, found it a useful skill that she wished she could acquire herself.

“Sansa, you’re very pretty and the men, they don’t - they don’t think you’re stupid and useless. They think you’re a strong, fine Northern woman and it makes them happy to give you pretty things, because they want to honor you and make you happy and…” Jon was flushed with his haste to reassure her. “And it makes men brave to know that women - that the Lady of Winterfell is dressed like Spring and waiting to greet them with food from her table. It gives them something to believe in, to hope for Sansa.

"These men loved Ned Stark, and you’re his daughter. And they want to honor you and make you happy. Sansa, I want to honor you and make you happy -” It might have been the longest speech she’d ever heard Jon give.

“That’s the most I ever heard you say!” Which might have been a misstep, because Jon stopped talking with an almost audible snap, and something about the clench of his jaw and the way his eyes closed radiated agony. Perhaps he bit his tongue?

“The Knight of Flowers had a cape made out of roses when he rode in Father’s tourney.”

“What?!” Jon’s voice was a bit strangled. Maybe he really did bite his tongue.

“When you came in, before, earlier - you asked why Ghost was covered in flowers. And it’s because the Knight of Flowers placed second in the joust and he was pretty.”

Jon gaped at her, “I don’t think Ghost is going to be jousting anytime soon.”

Sansa turned back to Ghost, who, unlike Jon, had been perfectly behaved and managed to stay perfectly still in respect for the flower crown and cloak she’d woven for him. The flowers she’d braided into his fur might have been a mistake in retrospect; his fur was hardly long enough for it. But he was fierce and oh so pretty, and it made her happy.

“He looks so pretty you can hardly tell he could rip a man’s throat out easy as breathing!” Sansa chirped, bending to give Ghost a kiss on his upturned snout.

“Traitor,” Jon murmured, and Sansa whirled around, frowning.

And through it all, Ghost sat, resplendent in his flowers, utterly still and silent.