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tangerinecherrygal · 4 months

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My reading of ‘the Unkiss’:

cw: brief Sexual assault discussion

When I found out that people ship sandor and sansa I was really confused because she’s an actual child. so when i read the scene that people usually reference as a basis for their ‘romance’ out of context (I thought Sansa was around 19 before i started reading) i could see how people may think that, especially dark romance readers. i do also think sandor has some questionable feelings towards sansa.

but in context, knowing about his past and how he had his innocence strippped away from him at such a young age, i believe he was both jealous and protective of sansa’s innocence, not in love with her.

“Lady,” she whimpered softly, wondering if she would meet her wolf again when she was dead.

The direwolves have been shown to consistantly be protectors to the stark kids, so obviously and understandably, sansa is calling out for the one thing that would protect and comfort her without question. Sandor's answer is almost like the answer of a potential guardian.

the ‘sexual’ aspect does seem like it’s there, but not in a romantic way because it would be an assault:

“Little bird. I knew you’d come.” The voice was a drunken rasp.

He is drunker than I’ve ever seen him. He was sleeping in my bed. What does he want here?

He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her.

“Why did you come here?” “You promised me a song, little bird. Have you forgotten?”

him being in her room on her bed does give the impression that he’s going to do something sexual, which is usually associated with loss of innocence. sansa’s innocence is presented in her optimistic view of human nature. sandor is still surprised that she can have faith in others despite what happened to her father, so to me it seems like he wants to show sansa how cruel people can be.

previously it was established that even though he scared her, she still knew that he was a guardian and she would be safe with him around:

“I would be gladder if it were the Hound, Sansa thought. Harsh as he was, she did not believe Sandor Clegane would let any harm come to her.”

if sandor were to betray her trust in him by harming her, he would further reiterate that people aren’t worth trusting.

“Still can’t bear to look, can you?”

She still doesn’t want to see the ugliness and unpleasantness of what humanity is capable of. besides being ugly to look at, sandor’s burns are a reminder of the capabilities of others to harm another person. especially family.

teach us all a kinder way.

the final line of the song reminds us that sansa was taught that there are ways to be good and she still somewhat believes in people, at least for now. sandor is reminded of the importance of believing that good and kindness can prevail. i think this reminds him of his childhood innocence before his brother harmed him and how important it is for children to keep that innocence into adulthood. perhaps he wonders what he would be like if that hadn’t happened to him. the part of him that wants to protect sansa’s innocence seems to kick in and he seems ashamed that he considered harming sansa like gregor did to him.

one could argue that he threatens her life, but if he really wanted to kill her then he wouldn’t offer to take her with him.

She found his cloak […] twisted up tight, the white wool stained by blood and fire.

the white on the cloak is ruined by products of humanity’s violence and destruction. this is like when sandor’s innocence in childhood was destroyed by the abuse he suffered. there is still innocence there, hence the original white still being visible. leaving the cloak with sansa shows that he’s letting what’s left of his ‘goodness’ protect sansa. his cloak has protected her before, and now acts as a reminder of his mercy. This can also be a lesson that sansa must protect herself now that he is no longer there.

I’ve only read the first two books and this is my interpretation so far. but all i know is that this man better stay far away from that little girl or i will be forced to intervene.

It is GRRM so i may be wrong, but I really hope that i’m not.

#tw: sa mention #praying sansa gets her happy ending with her optimism in tact #the unkiss #sansa stark #sandor the hound clegane #a clash of kings #acok #asoiaf #protect sansa stark at all costs.

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sailorshadzter · 3 months

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some post battle of the bastards jonsa

cause you know....

thats everything

“Where have you been?”

She stops in her tracks, cloak falling from her shoulders, blue eyes widening. Turning, she finds herself face to face with him, with Jon, who sits in the chair nearest the fire- neither of them know now, but it will become his place in her rooms- his Stark gray eyes somber in their gaze. “Out.” She replies, shrugging out of her cloak and draping it over the empty chair she stands beside, her hands frozen, her heartbeat steady.

“Is he dead?” He asks without preamble, thinking of the man just hours before he’d pummeled until there was almost nothing left.

She thinks back to what she left behind, to the screams in the night, to the sound of flesh tearing from bones- she only wishes it were the first time she’d heard such a thing. “Yes,” she admits, because she can’t imagine he’s survived what she’s put him through. Jon rises up from where he sits, his bandaged hand reaching for her; his fingertips leave fire in their wake as they trace the curve of her cheek, his gray eyes never straying from hers. “I’m fine,” she insists, softly, brokenly, the pain she felt only traded for another kind. It would never end, she supposes, this pain of hers. “It’s what he deserved.”

“Aye,” Jon answers with a nod, his hand slipping from her cheek.

She feels cold, lost, without his touch; she wonders if he thinks less of her now, if she’s made some sort of mistake. “I did it for Rickon,” she continues, thinking of her beloved baby brother, the one she used to cradle to her chest, the one who once clung to her skirts. “I did it for him.” Jon closes his eyes for one long moment, thinking of the brother he’d lost, of the brother he couldn’t protect. When he opens his eyes, she’s still there, the one thing in this life he could save, the one person he could keep safe, no matter the cost. “I did it for him,” she whispers again, tears streaking her cheeks, fists clinging to the dirtied fabric of his doublet.

“I know,” he says, arms slinging around her, drawing her in; she’s never been this close before.

When she buries her face into his chest, he feels complete, a feeling he’s never felt before. His arms tighten their grip on her lithe frame, realizing now how little weight she’s gained back since their reunion some weeks ago. Jon wants to think that they’re safe, that there is nothing left to fight against, but he knows as well as she does that this is only the beginning. There were lions and the undead left to fight, after all. “I love you,” she whispers, as a good sister should, and Jon feels his heart skip a beat.

He holds her at arms length now, gray eyes meeting blue, and he knows that this was where he was meant to be. This was where he was supposed to be. “I love you, too,” he murmurs, leaning in so he might press a kiss to her cheek, dangerously close to the corner of her mouth. When she exhales, he could almost discern disappointment, but he thinks it must be his own imagination. “I’ll keep you safe, Sansa,” he adds, softer now, his voice but a whisper against the crown of her head. She laughs, softly, curling inward so she might place her head against his chest, so his heart might beat against the shell of her ear.

“I know,” she says as he had said sometime before, believing in him as she’s never before believed in anyone before.

It was only the beginning, she supposes, the earliest of days, yet she believes in him as if she’s known him all her life- and she has, that’s true, but she’s never bothered to know him as she knows him now. His forehead to hers, she’s smiling, the warmth of his touch at the small of her back all she’s ever needed.

It was all she’s ever wanted.

#jonsa #actuallyjonsa #jon x sansa #i wrote this #my writing

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esther-dot · 1 year

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In show there were many scenes between Dany and Starks to show that they were foils.

When Sansa was born bells were rang throughout WF while Dany was born dogs were howling.

Starks reclaiming their home WF and work towards protecting it. Dany arriving dragonstone and feeling like no home.

Starks reunion, making their differences clear and fight against common enemies. Dany and Jon as last Targs were clear foils to Starks. Especially Jon killing Dany to save Starks.

It seems like D&D were giving narrative parallels many times but they somehow missed the mark.

Absolutely, anon!

Dany tried to prevent Jon from being known as a trueborn, tried to divide him from his family, and of course, was a threat to him which is such a contrast to Sansa who dressed Jon as a Stark, offered him the lord's chambers, essentially acted like he was trueborn/head of the house. And then of course, her happiness at him being named KitN and desire to protect him at all costs and restore him to that role. Oh, she had also offered the lord's role to Bran who refused. None of them were power hungry at all.

Jon had to persuade Dany not to attack KL with dragons in s7, Dany burned food in s7 while Sansa was working to collect it to feed her people. Jon and Sansa had trust issues and disagreements in their relationship, but they still affirmed each other and worked to protect each other. Even after Jon bent the knee and he and Dany were together, she kept intimidating and making threats. Compare how happy Sansa was to see Jon happy in 8x04, how jealous Dany was that he was loved/celebrated. It's endless!

Making a point without actually having a character articulate it is considered good writing, so all of the work they put into the parallels and foils, I believe most of that was intentional. But curiously, at the same time that we were seeing that commentary on good/bad priorities, good/bad leadership, they wanted the J/D romance, so suddenly, Jon who is meant to be a foil to Dany is endorsing behavior that should have been abhorrent to him, doing things that contradict who we know he is. I once said it was like simultaneously watching history and revisionist history. IMO, that's why it missed the mark, they wanted us to know certain things to be true, but also wanted to write certain developments that contradicted their own narrative. I think that's why in the end, Tyrion had to sit down and explain that burning people alive is bad. Because that was the narrative, but they'd been writing against it for a bit so they figured the audience needed the clarification. 😐

#dot chat

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attonitos-gloria · 2 years

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Why do you always talk about Tyrion as if he were a blameless victim? He's not the good man you think he is.

@_@ you again. hello!!! welcome back!! let's point it out. tw for ableism ahead.

tyrion is not blameless.

tyrion orders a man to be killed and made a meal out of his body. tyrion rapes a woman. tyrion kills his lover, cold-blooded, a powerless girl, simply because he wants revenge on his jealousy. tyrion has horrible thoughts about punishing his sister with rape. tyrion has lustful thoughts about a girl in her teens. of all these deeds, he is guilty. there's no way to justify his way out of those crimes. tyrion is not really a good man; good people don't dehumanize others that way.

tyrion is kind to bran, in an environment in which literally everyone expects the worst of him, and invents a saddle so bran could ride a horse. tyrion is kind to jon, a bastard; not even all people in jon's own immediate family are kind to him the way tyrion was (sansa isn't kind to jon; catelyn isn't; robb and theon often aren't). tyrion protects catelyn stark, his jailer, who is accusing him of a crime he didn't commit, when their party is attacked in their way to the Vale. tyrion is kind to sansa. he saves her from joffrey's kingsguard; when ned dies and he comes back to king's landing, he expresses grief for her loss - no one else did that; he doesn't rape her when the act wouldn't result in punishment for him at all - he would actually be rewarded for it; he doesn't relish in the victories of his family in the war, because he knows it cost sansa her own family (but it is high summer for House Lannister. So why am I so bloody cold? is thought by Tyrion in this exact context: while he thinks about all Sansa has lost because of his family, and their marriage counts as one of her losses). He regrets not sending Ice, her father's sword, back to Winterfell sooner, before his family melted it to give joffrey a sword. in the worst depression of his life, he tries to protect penny in any way he can. and in all of these things, there was no one there to reward him, to praise him, to recognize him for being good. he did it because there's kindness in him, somewhere (his own words). tyrion is not really a bad man either; bad people don't care for others in uninterested, silent ways.

a person is not two columns side by side in which we write bad deeds vs good deeds, put weights on each item on the list, and do the math. and a character in a narrative, that is, the artistic representation of a person, if done right, if written right, isn't the sum of this math either.

tyrion's crimes are deeply connected to his family, to the ways house lannister affirms and exerts power and dominance. they employ cruelty for the sake of cruelty; it's meaningless. they do it to be feared. tyrion is often senseless cruel like that, in thoughts, in words, in deeds. he is a lannister through and through.

tyrion suffers repeatedly in the name of house lannister and by the head of house lannister himself. and, listen to me: he suffered those things because he is not an able-bodied man. jaime didn't suffer the things tyrion and cersei did. and that is not to say jaime didn't suffer at all! everyone suffers in systems like that, it's just that cersei and tyrion are victims of a certain kind of abuse that jaime was spared.

tyrion's kindness is directioned to a certain group of people. he is not just spreading kindness all around, it’s not like him. tyrion is kind to vulnerable people, cripples, bastards, broken things. he is kind to people who can’t stand up for themselves. he is aware of such thing as collateral damage. and his kindness is tied to the fact he is not an able-bodied man. he is like that because growing up as a disabled man made him aware of a particular kind of suffering that he feels inclined to alleviate.

these two get in conflict all the time. the conflict between the two sides of him is all tyrion’s arc is about (see: everything grrm ever said about him always). what story would we have if tyrion was able bodied? a completely different one, because we would have a completely different character.

i’m saying it like this, in small words and points, because there are two kinds of ableism, two kinds of violence against disabled people, and they’re both present in canon setting and in fandom and in our real lives. you can be just a complete asshole. you can hate disabled people in plain sight under the sunlight and you can simply not hide it. you can be the person who left this comment in one of my fics in which tyrion is, well, in a happy relationship:

or. you can be the other guy. you can be the person who commits violence against disabled people through silencing: of their voices, of their pains, of their particular way of interacting with the world. you can be the ableist who makes their lives harder on this world by simply ignoring their disability at all, by making them, and their bodies, invisible.

i am tired of seeing people in this fandom going like “i wish tyrion would understand that he is not unloved because he is disabled, he is unloved because he is an asshole” etc. because if you saw a post going “i wish sansa would understand that she is not suffering because she is a female, she is suffering because she is a petty stupid little girl who got her father killed” we would all collectively lose our minds at the thickness of these words and the completely misogyny of it. (i know i have when i saw it!) of course sansa’s young pettiness cannot explain the extent of her abuse; this shouldn’t be even a question. and i don’t want to go down the road of “making a list of good deeds and bad deeds of each character” all over again. it’s not my point. my point is: for us, as fandom, it’s easy to understand that in Westerosi culture, it is completely impossible to engage with Sansa (or Catelyn, or whoever) as a character without engaging with issues of patriarchy or misogyny. we know that the fact she is a woman in that world is crucial to understand her character and her themes and her arc, not because there is some female nature common to all women everywhere, but because in our world, and in theirs, women are trapped inside a system that aims at their bodies and their lives.

i hope you can see where i’m trying to get at. are all disabled people the same? of course not. asoiaf has a lot of disabled people. tyrion is just one of them. not all women are the same: sansa, cersei, arya, brienne, daenerys, catelyn, asha, their personalities and arcs and themes are different, because patriarchy affects them in different ways, and because they’re people and people are not all the same, lol. you don’t have to love every female character just because they are women, but if you simply refuse to engage and understand the ways their narrative arcs are impacted by patriarchy, you’re doing poor analysis of the text! it’s all i’m saying.

this happens to tyrion all the time. i’m not saying you have to like him! this is not my job, i’d be doing a poor work in this fandom if it were, i think. i am however arguing that not a negligible part of tyrion hate in the fandom comes from this silencing, from this invisibility. we don’t think the fact he is a disabled man has any weight, any real impact in his arc or his personality. it’s not worthy engaging with, losing our time with: he’s just a bad man. it’s like you can completely dissociate those things, like disability is part of the attire tyrion is wearing and when you take his clothes off you can see him as he is. but disability is not something he is wearing. he can’t take it off. disability is one of the raw materials that he and the world used to build the good in him and the bad in him, choice after choice, day after day. for better and for worse, in real life and in fantasy, disability has a formative role in one’s life. and it hurts me to see the way this is ignored, and shrugged off. i think there’s no other name for this, this is just ableism.

i want you to think a little about the fact that we are, as a fandom, more inclined to have empathy for tywin lannister, more inclined to give him nuance, more inclined to like him and consider him some kind of BAMF that is simply a grieving widow and has a chance of being redeemed if someone could only break through his armor!!!, than we do for tyrion. please. please think about this for one whole minute, and tell me i am wrong in defending him.

i am not saying everyone who doesn’t like tyrion, or who likes tywin, is an irremediable ableist. i don’t know! tyrion is a disruptive character, and with this kind of character, it is natural that the readers’ responses vary. i don’t want to judge individuals, i’m talking about my experience with the fandom as a collective entity. i’ve made many friends in this fandom who went deep into the text, and they still didn’t like tyrion in the end, or they liked him because they thought he was a bad person, etc. we like different things, and at the end of the day, people can like whoever character strikes their fancy. but it’s something i see all the time, and when you start to notice some patterns, you can’t help but wonder. this is just one of the patterns, of the discourse around him. i’m not even giving you the whole picture. but the ableism in our fandom is pervasive, insidious, and it’s cruel. and this part is not really about our personal preferences. i think it’s something we should meditate on. as a fandom.

that being said: i think tyrion is hanging on a balance, and perhaps he will end the series as a villain, and perhaps he will end it as a hero, or maybe both or even better, neither. and in any case, you’ll find me here, stanning. he is not a real person. i like him because i like the character and the way he’s written! it’s not because i morally condone his actions, this is not the way I interact with fictional people and with media overall, and if it were, i wouldn’t have a character to like in asoiaf, except brienne who never made a single mistake in her life, ever. i’m here for the story being told, and the story being told through tyrion happens to be my favorite.

but to answer your question, TL;DR: i'll speak about him as a victim as long as we ignore that there is a system that victimizes him on virtue of his disability. i’ll insist on it until we stop making disability invisible through sheer force of our violence.

thank you for the ask though! it’s a great question.

#ask me stuff #tw ableism #tyrion lannister meta #by the way i think i'm done with you anon #i think there's nothing really left to say #and the next time you come here in bad faith i'll gently ignore your asks #but thank you for coming really #tw rape #tw abuse

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joanna-lannister · 2 months

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fandom confession i actually did start the show hating Sansa Stark but then I was like "oh you guys hate her cause she's a teenage girl? I have no option but to protect her at all costs now."

Same for Arya "oh we're gonna call her a mindless killer now and boring? I'm afraid your fan card is declined and revoked. gtfo with your incorrect inferior takes on my girls"

YES LOVE FOR OUR STARK GIRLS! People hate especially on Sansa so easily but like, she is teenage girl who saw her father being beheaded, and being trapped in King's Landing? Then she is groomed by a pervert who only use her for his own gain. How can people hate her? She is trying to make the best out of the circumstances. I'm so glad she ended up as QITN. And same for Arya, I'm so glad she gets to live and lives the adventures she wanted! (I just only picture Gendry going with her 😂😭)

#i've never seen hate for arya tbh #but i wouldn't be surprised if some hated her for whatever reason 🙄#thank you so much for the ask ❤️#anon #answered #ask game

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haraways · 11 months

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I don't know if you take story prompts but here's one for short story.

Drogon shows aggression toward Sansa in the field (The dragon mirrors D*ny's feelings). Rhaegal comes to the rescue with Jon racing to Sansa's side. Ends like Hunger Games: Catching Fire when Peeta hit the wall ----- Sansa calms Jon down while outsider POV's realize something about the two.

Thank you!!

I'm Sorry I'm so late in replying. I'm not on here all that often lately. But here you go! it's not as good as I wanted it but I was done stewing over it. I hope you enjoy! I didn't get a POV change tho sorry!

Read on Ao3 here! or read below!

"What do dragons eat anyway?"

"Anything they want."

Sansa stood alone in the sprawling field, the wind rustling through her auburn hair as she watched the dragons descend from the sky. It was a moment of both awe and trepidation as she anticipated the arrival of the majestic creatures. Sansa had heard tales of their immense power and the bond they shared with their riders. She wondered if it was akin to the Starks' bond with their wolves. She felt an almost jealous emotion coral its way up her throat, only to be swallowed back by her sheer will.

As Drogon, the black-scaled dragon, landed with a resounding thud, Sansa couldn't help but feel a wave of unease. The creature's crimson eyes bore into her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. The bond between a dragon and its rider was said to be symbiotic, with the dragon mirroring the emotions of their chosen one. At this moment, it seemed Drogon mirrored the wrath and aggression of his rider, Queen Daenerys.

Sansa swallowed hard, trying to steady herself as Drogon loomed closer. She could not run, for there was no wear she could go where the dragon could not follow. She mustered her courage and stood her ground, refusing to let fear consume her. However, the dragon's growls grew louder and more menacing, his massive wings unfurling with a force that whipped up the snow around them. Sansa looked to the dragon back, for only Daenerys could call back this beast. But she was not there; the dragon roamed free this day, and it would be Sansa's last.

Drogon opened his mouth to strike, but a high-pitched shriek pitched through the air. Another dragon descended from the sky. Rhaegal, with his emerald scales, soared gracefully, his presence instilling a sense of calm in the chaos. Jon Snow, astride Rhaegal, urged the dragon toward Sansa's location, seeing the imminent danger.

Rhaegal landed gracefully beside Sansa, shielding her from Drogon's wrath. Jon dismounted, his eyes blazing with determination. He knew he had to act swiftly to prevent any harm from coming to Sansa. With a whispered command, he urged Rhaegal to protect her at all costs. Sansa turned and ran to Jon.

As Drogon lunged toward Sansa, his immense claws swiping dangerously close, Rhaegal sprang into action, unleashing a fearsome roar that shook the earth. The two dragons clashed, their immense power colliding in a fierce struggle. They took to the sky with powerful beats of their wings. Fire intertwined as they grappled with each other in mid-air, their wings beating fiercely against the stormy sky.

Jon rushed to Sansa's side, his eyes locked on the chaotic battle above. With adrenaline pumping through his veins, he drew his sword, ready to defend Sansa against any threat that may come their way. Sansa stood tall beside him, her face a mask of determination, her eyes fixed on the dragons above.

As the dragons fought, their roars reverberated through the field, creating an aura of danger and awe. Jon clung to Sansa, daring her close to his side.

The battle raged, the dragons' fury painting the sky with flames and smoke. Drogon was the bigger dragon, but Rhaegal was faster. Eventually, Rhaegal managed to pin him to the ground. Jon took the opportunity, sheathed his sword and approached Drogon cautiously. He was reluctant to leave Sansa, but they needed the dragon not to fight; they had already lost one dragon beyond the wall, and losing another was not an option. He extended a hand, his eyes filled with empathy and understanding.

"Drogon," Jon called out, his voice firm yet compassionate. "You must calm your rage. Sansa is no enemy."

Drogon's fury would not quell, and with a mighty sweep of his powerful wings, he tossed Jon aside. Sansa gasped in horror as Jon was thrown, his body crashing to the ground with a resounding thud. Rhaegal roars and snaps down on Drogon's neck, the dark blood spilling on the ground. Rhaegal relics his brother quickly, and Drogon stopped fighting in fear of losing his head.

Sansa had rushed to Jon's side. She knelt in the snow and pulled his head onto her lap.

"Jon?" she whispered, patting his cheek carefully. She swallowed thickly, repressing the overwhelming urge to fall into despair; it was too plentiful in her kingdom.

Jon blicked his grey eyes as he came too. His cheeks looked like they burned as he realized he had been knocked unconscious and in a very unheroic manner.

He took her hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed the soft skin of Sansa's wrist. He tried to tug her further towards him, but she resisted the temptation.

"Jon!" Sansa gasped, "someone shall see!" Jon gave an almost goofy smile as he tried to snatch the hand back.

"They would sooner gaze at the dragons than see wolves here in the snow."

Sansa's face softened as a light dusting of red made its way to her cheeks.

"Are you hurt?" she asked softly. Jon shook his head but did not yet rise, comfortable as he lay in Sansa's lap, something he would see happen more often.

"I'm Glad." Sansa smiled gently before unceremoniously shoving Jon off her lap.

#jonsa #jonsa prompt

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peterjakes · 1 year

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Theon Greyjoy - ‘they see right through me’

Theon Greyjoy survived The Long Night. He helped saved Winterfell. He has atoned. The Hero of the Godswood.

But things don't always go to plan. His uncle killed his sister, Yara. This can only mean one thing. Theon Greyjoy is Lord of The Iron Islands. The one thing he had always wanted as a boy, he now has. The one thing he doesn't want, he now has. The one thing he didn't believe he deserved, he now has.

But at what cost?

back when s8 aired, I had some thoughts about what would happen if yara died instead of theon (mostly bc of selfish reasons) but I thought it would be interesting to look at theon's potential feelings about this and possibly what would happen if he was named the last remaining heir of The Iron Islands

thanks for reading x

also posted on ao3; https://archiveofourown.org/works/45919603

Theon Greyjoy had, against all odds, survived the Long Night. He had survived the Godswood. Survived the Night King. He could go home. Wherever home was. Theon was still unsure of that. He had rescued his sister from his uncle, made sure the Iron Islands had its Queen. But then he had left her, for a place he never truly believed he would set foot in again. He had left his sister for Winterfell, to fight for the North, to fight for the Starks. Could Pyke ever be his home again? Would he want it to be? Being back at Winterfell, back at the place that caused so much anger and anguish in Theon, the place where he had destroyed so much, it brought up some strange memories, some strange feelings. Could Winterfell be his home? Could he stay here, a now honorary Northerner? Theon wasn’t so sure.

Volunteering to protect Bran in the Godswood, Theon knew what that meant. He knew it had to be him. He had to make up for his crimes against Winterfell, against the Starks, against Bran himself. He was sure everyone else who had watched him say those words knew too. Jon, Sansa, Arya, Bran. They all knew what it had meant. Theon didn’t want to be thanked. Didn’t want to be celebrated. It was what he had to do. For all of them. It was the only real way he could ever make it up to them. Not only for betraying them, their family, their brother, their mother, their father. But betraying himself. For believing he was anything but part of them. He was, in truth, he just hadn’t realised it yet.

As Jon had said, Ned Stark was a part of him. But it wasn’t just him, it was all of the Starks. It was Jon, who had told him he was both a Greyjoy and a Stark. Who had forgiven him for what he had done. It was Sansa, who had embraced him with such kindness and warmth. Who had relied so heavily on him during Ramsey’s reign of terror and had forgiven him. It was even Bran, who didn’t seem like the young boy Theon had once terrorised, who had told Theon he was a good man. Who had thanked him. It was all of these moments, so important and perhaps maybe so insignificant to anyone else, that had made Theon realise something.

He had done things, truly terrible things, to the Starks, to Winterfell and to the North. He didn’t deserve any kindness, any forgiveness. He just felt regret, remorse and guilt. Every single day. And every single night. But regardless of that, he had been forgiven. He had been rewarded with kindness. With something he never thought he would get. He had been redeemed. Even before he had stayed in the Godswood with the Iron Born. Before he pledged to fight for Winterfell. Before he had saved his sister. But Theon just hadn’t realised that yet. Theon had been given a second chance, more than once. Saving and getting Sansa to safety. Citing Yara as his Queen. Fighting for Winterfell. Theon had been given so much more than he believed he had deserved. The Theon Greyjoy who grew up at Winterfell no longer existed. Nor did the Theon who took Winterfell and betrayed the Starks. The Theon who was tortured by Ramsey, gone. Reek? Gone, gone. Theon Greyjoy had been reborn; he had been redeemed completely. Theon had survived, not just the Long Night. Not just his uncle. But every single thing that had led him to that moment in the Godswood, he had survived. He could do more than that now. He could live.

It was his sister he’d wanted to see. Wanted to apologise again, although Theon wasn’t sure about what. He had left her, but she had allowed him to do that. He still felt some guilt. He was a Greyjoy, he had pledged to follow her, she was his Queen. But at that moment, going back to Winterfell was the most important thing for Theon. He had to face those ghosts one last time.

But that wasn’t going to happen, not for Theon. It was late afternoon when Sansa had told him. She looked weary and tired, clearly things had not been going well in King’s Landing. But she didn’t mention that, only of Theon’s news.

“Yara’s dead.”

After those two words, everything else seemed to stop. Theon had stopped listening to Sansa, although he wasn’t sure she had said anything else. It was possible she let the news sit with Theon, let it sink in, until Theon finally realised what she had just told him. His vision became blurred, he could only see the red from Sansa’s hair in the distance, the black from her dress. Everything else was gone. His breathing seemed to pitch up and his blinking, could he blink? Theon wasn’t so sure. Theon had not been awake that long after the battle, he was supposed to recover, supposed to heal. But he could only think of one thing. His sister.

Theon was the one who was supposed to die. He was the one who would sacrifice himself, finally atoning for what he had done. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Yara...she couldn’t be dead. It wasn’t right. Everything that had happened had led to her ruling the Iron Islands, the way it was supposed to be. Theon was never sure whether he would be able to stand by her side, but now he never would. No one would. She had been taken, by the waves, by the sea. She had drowned, the gods had taken her. Never to be seen again. She had floated out into the distance, where Theon couldn’t reach her.

Theon wasn’t going to pretend he and Yara had the best relationship. He didn’t remember much about her growing up. He’d told her she looked like a fat, little boy when he was taken from Pyke. As a baby he would cry and cry and cry. But Theon didn’t remember that. His memories of Pyke, his memories of his father, his mother, his brothers, his sister, even they were never clear enough. Everything was always over-clouded, overshadowed by the North. There were bits and pieces he would remember if he thought about it hard enough. His mother’s smile. His brother’s play fighting by the sea. A fat finger prodding him all over. His father’s angry expression. But nothing concrete. It didn’t matter. Theon wasn’t angry or upset. Those memories were not who he was. They didn’t define him. They never could.

But the memories of Winterfell always seemed far clearer. Robb’s laughter at any of Theon’s jokes. His anger. Lord and Lady Stark, their stern faces. Arya practicing with Theon’s bow. Sansa and her long, auburn hair. Little Bran and Rickon. The Maester. Ser Rodrik. These memories were now ruined, however, by what Theon had done. Taking Winterfell. Beheading Ser Rodrik. Burning the two little bodies. And then Reek’s memories, they would always come back to him. The ones he thought for long he deserved. Maybe he still did. Ramsey’s strange touch. The scars. The smell. The kennels. The hounds. Sansa. Her wedding dress. That night. Betraying her again. Escaping. Letting her go.

New memories sometimes found themselves in Theon’s mind. Returning to his sister. Travelling to Mereen. Standing by his sister’s side. Dragonstone. Jon’s kind words. Saving his sister. Winterfell. Sansa. The Godswood. Waking up, realizing he had made it. Theon’s memories had reborn; they had become something else. He had been given the chance to make new ones. Whether that was on Pyke or somewhere else, Theon did not know. But perhaps he shouldn’t waste it. Yara would not want him to waste it. Even with everything that had happened, he was her brother, and she loved him, in her way.

Meeting her again after so long away, Theon hadn’t given the best impression of her younger brother. Thinking back to how he had acted then, Theon felt ashamed. He felt ashamed about so many things, still now, particularly about that time. He knew that feeling would never leave him. This was the price he must pay to live, the Iron Price. He knew that now, though he wasn’t sure whether he had accepted it. Did he deserve to live? Deserve to want to live? He had hurt so many people, including his sister. But he had come back to her, to the Iron Islands, to Pyke. He had named her as his Queen, supported her and escaped Euron with her. It was something, something Theon could hang onto. He would have to. There were not many happy memories between the two and now there wouldn’t be.

But none of that mattered now, not truly. She was gone, and she wasn’t coming back. Theon was alone in the world. The only Greyjoy left. This wasn’t right. He couldn’t be the last one, it should never have been him. Yara, it was supposed to be Yara. It should always have been Yara. She would have taken great pride in being the last one, she would have made sure all of Westeros remembered the Greyjoys, remembered the name. Theon knew he couldn’t do that. He wasn’t up to that. Yara and Theon were so different. He wasn’t her and she wasn’t him. He couldn’t do anything for her memory. Not one thing.

It wasn’t until Sansa brought up the subject that Theon realised with both Yara and Euron gone, there was only one person left who could rule the Iron Islands. Theon. But no. Theon couldn’t. He wasn’t fit to rule. He didn’t deserve to rule. He didn’t want to. But he was the last Greyjoy left. He was the last link to his father. His father, Balon Greyjoy. His father, who had shipped him away to the North. His father, who had bent the knee. His father, who never seemed to have any love for Theon. His father, who named Yara as his heir. His father, who died alone. What a father he was. Jon had once told Theon that Ned Stark was more of a father than the Greyjoy Lord ever was. Theon’s real father had lost his head at King’s Landing. Wasn’t that what Theon had told Ramsey once? What connection did Theon have with his father? Not one that mattered. His connection was stronger with the Starks, with Winterfell and the North.

Theon couldn’t rule, he just couldn’t. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be the reigning Lord over a place he could hardly remember. It was supposed to be Yara. They were supposed to have their Queen. Their first Queen. After everything, how could he go back? He couldn’t go back, not there. He didn’t deserve to go back. Theon spent so much of his life being torn between Winterfell and Pyke. He seemed to belong to neither, floating between the two. The Northerners always saw him as an outsider, a sheep in wolf clothing. And when he went back to Pyke, he didn’t belong there. He didn’t dress like the Iron Born, sound like the Iron Born, didn’t look like the Iron Born. He wasn’t Iron Born.

But how could he desert the Iron Born? The ones who were left. So many died as Theon should have in the Godswood. Yara had taken her remaining ships home or had intended to. She hadn’t made it. And Euron, he was gone too. Killed by Jaime Lannister. How was this possible? This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. Theon knew what had to happen. He had it all planned out in his head. His death, his sacrifice, was one of the first things he would have control over again. How could it have gone so wrong? And what about the Iron Born? The men who had followed Yara with no real idea how it would end for them. They didn’t want Theon as their ruler, they wanted Yara. What could Theon do for them? He wasn’t worthy of it. Wasn’t worthy of anything.

Yara was sworn by duty to lead her men, the Iron Born to do what had to be done. It was something that Theon admired about her. She seemed to know what the right thing was to do, always. Whether anyone else thought it was right was another thing completely. Theon didn’t share that quality with his sister. There always seemed to be a choice he had to make, an impossible one. But maybe there wasn’t one now. The Iron Islands had been ruled by the Greyjoys for so long, would he really be the last Greyjoy? The one to end that. Yara had a duty. But she was gone. Was that duty now Theon’s?

Self-doubt and self-hatred were only two feelings that occupied Theon. They had occupied him for so long now, they had become a part of him. These feelings were why Theon couldn’t do it, he couldn’t take his sisters place. He was not like Yara, he never was and never could be. Even when he would pretend, he and everyone else knew it was all a front, knew it was not real. How would Theon even rule? Could he even do it? Could he replace his sister? No, no one could. Theon had spent many years at Winterfell wishing to go home, knowing that when he returned, he would be treated like a King, the heir of the Iron Islands, they had been waiting for him. But that didn’t happen, of course it didn’t. He was a fool. A stupid, fool. But worse men had been a Lord of a great house. This didn’t make Theon feel any better, however. Just worse.

This did mean something, however. Theon could do home. His family home. Where he was born. Where he was supposed to grow up. But Pyke never truly felt like Theon’s home. There was a part of Theon that knew he couldn’t leave the Iron Islands. He couldn’t let the people, the Iron Born fend for themselves. But he didn’t want to leave the North now, not when he had come back. Winterfell didn’t feel like a home growing up, but Theon thought now that his younger self never allowed it to be a home. He didn’t even try. Even though Theon spent so many years wishing it was his home, wishing he was a real Northerner, wishing he was a Stark, he couldn’t let himself wish too much.

Theon had spent so many years at Winterfell. Those years under Ramsey’s belt didn’t make it feel like a home, but a nightmare. Regardless of that, there was someone at Winterfell who understood completely, who was probably dealing with the same feelings of confusion. Sansa. She was here, she was at Winterfell, she was surviving. If she could do it, why not Theon? Sansa had seemingly overcome everything that had happened to her. She had changed, it had made her who she was. She was strong. Stronger than Theon ever could be. She was healing. She had lost people too. She had lost siblings, just as Theon had. But she wasn’t the last Stark, she still had a family. Something Theon could only dream of.

But there was a family who would welcome Theon, maybe not with welcome arms, but still, they would want him. He had seemingly always been a part of this family, even when he didn’t believe it himself. He was part of this family when he first arrived in the North. When he would sit next to Robb in the great hall. When he would practice his archery in the courtyard. When he would tease little Arya. It was unconventional, that was true, but the Starks were more of a family than the Greyjoys ever were. They were not given the chance too. Two brothers dead. A mother dead. A father filled with so much hatred. And a sister…a sister. Gods, Theon didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t. How could they ever be a family? How could Theon ever have one? Theon wondered if he asked to stay at Winterfell, whether they would let him. Sansa, maybe. The way she hugged him tight when he arrived back, that seemed to signal something.

That sense of divided loyalty, that feeling Theon felt for almost all of his life, it wasn’t going to control Theon anymore. He didn’t have to choose. He was connected to both Pyke and Winterfell. To both the North and the Iron Islands. He was both a Greyjoy and a Stark. And he was going to be Lord of the Iron Islands whether he liked it or not. He knew this was what he had to do. Knew it was important. For Yara.

#theon greyjoy #got #game of thrones #got fic #got fanfic #got fanfiction #game of thrones fic #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones fanfiction #theon greyjoy fic #theon greyjoy fanfic #theon greyjoy fanfiction #mine #my writing #they see right through me

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reginarubie · 1 year

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The Dance has begun. I can understand Sansa, as for why she feels so small again, calling out to her real family even more desperately — if only these people knew what was coming, just like she does! And right now she's not that Little Bird, she's a fighter and she won't run. I love this girl and how full of compassion for other people she is. She knows that innocents are going to be sacrificed for literally nothing. Alicent does too, but she blindly prays for salvation because opening her eyes would kill her. Rhaenys does too, but... I mean, this lady has issues. Or maybe she's just THE Targaryen and it is ✨fine✨ for them to think like that. Ugh, cringe bitches, both her and Rhae — Laenor deserved better, just like Symon does, though he's got something better than he hoped for. Ned is saving him just as much he & his fam saved her from Larys. *In Aemond's voice* It's a fair exchange. And oh no Rhaenys, don't you compare Lady Whent to your spoiled cun..ning niece. Ugh, I can't stand her in any universe, sorry. One more proof you got all the characters so well! But enough of the Blacks, my Green boys! Sansa is definitely all of us watching THAT scene 🤣 Despite it's being a fight scene it's absolutely heartwarming and I was happy to experience a better version of it. Aegon and Sansa need to chat more Imao, it's sending me 😜

But Aemond, babe, your plan! It wasn't that bad. Almost as okay as Daeron becoming a king in F&B. However, their loyalty to Aegon is here again to ruin the day. Loyalty is a great thing but did any of you except Niddle listen to Aegon himself? HELAENA MY DEAR SHE'S HAVING SUCH A BAD TIME WITH ALL THIS BULLSHIT. Cousin Ned is there for you to feel valuable 💜 I hope Cole mentions that it was Ned's idea, the crown.

Also... One more hint on the possible third team... The Starks + Firesteel? Would be perfect 🥺 Waiting for the Storm's End. Hope Ned does something to Aemond's anger issues hehe... But even if Luke doesn't die, something tells me the Blacks still won't be satisfied. Either way, may Lady Stark survive them all once more 😈

Ciao Anne!,

As always thank you for your review it’s amazing!

Rhaenys is still a Targaryen to the core and she has her own plan, she doesn’t trust Rhaenyra one bit, but she has her plan and won’t be standing down about it. Her girls need to inherit Driftmark and their children — Laena’s grandchildren — to sit on the Iron throne for her revenge to be complete, also, it felt fitting with the way she acted with the attack to the Sept that Rhaenys would be like “The Realm ain’t my responsibility since they rejected me. Now they pay the price”

Aegon is very aware that he is not fit to rule — maybe he might have been but his issues are all over the place — and he knows Ned is more clever than she lets on, he has seen it, and he’s a little spoiled shit anyway. So ofc their interactions would be fun 😂😂😂 he be like “Where’s ya husband, cousin?” a jab to her and Aemond alike and then be like “Ya know, I know, the Seven know. Are you more attached to reality than these idiots?”

Helaena is a baby and she must be protected at all costs, and Sansa is there for it. In the book it was Alicent and Helaena both who talked Aegon out of full war and convinced him to offer her peace terms. So she’s much more involved than the show made her — terrible really so we’ll see more of her. Sansa’ll make sure of it!

Aemond’s contingency plan wasn’t that bad, and it took into account several issues… still could the Greens claim to be better than the Blacks if they fought an intestine war between themselves? No. They love each other, they’re loyal — never forget Aegon commissioned ginormous statues of his brothers, Aemond never took the throne though he acted as Prince Regent and Daeron actually throw wine in the face of the lord who dared suggest he stole his brother’s crown.

Like Alicent did one thing right, she made sure her children would be united and loyal and true to each other — we see that also in the private dinner scene in the show, Aegon shoulders Aemond in his speech and immediately is ready to throw punches when the Black kids come for them making sure to humiliate them by slamming their face in the plate — 😂😂😂.

Lady Stark is much stronger than anyone gives her credit for, much more clever than anyone gives her credit for and much more good and brave than anyone gives her credit for. She’s going to eat you all alive and make of you all her project to save the North and you will do it gladly because she asked nicely. 😂😂😂

That’s Sansa superpower. Her own brand of magic.

Thank you again for dropping by and for the amazing review!

As always sending all my love ~G.

#firesteel fic #firesteel #ask the hag #anne’s reviews #kissed by fire ~ kissed by steel #firesteel fandom #firesteel brainrot #aemondsa #sansaemond #aemondxsansa #aemondxsansa fanfiction #aemond/sansa fic #aemond targaryen/sansa stark #aemond/sansa #aemond targaryen x sansa stark

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princepsoraya · 2 years

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Name: Soraya Amaranthus Skeleton Name: The Crown Birthday/Age: April 20, 1982 / 40 years old Character Gender/Pronouns: cis female, she/her Sexuality: Demisexual Coven & Rank: Amaranthus Sovereign Occupation: Senator Positive Traits: Dauntless, dependable, intuitive Negative Traits: Stubborn, intimidating, unwavering Inspo: Gamora, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, Sansa Stark

Connections | Vanity | Muse | Threads

Biography Trigger Warning: Death

TW: DEATH

Ruthless. That is what it took to be a ruler. When Soraya was born the pedestal she was required to stand was insurmountable. The Amaranthus line was born and remained a constant in the sands of time. Ancestral magic passed down from child to child, a continued lineage that refused to be broken. The selected few were chosen to lead, and those that were chosen were paired with those best suited for them through their own trials and tribulations. It bled into their rule. Joining the Amaranthus Coven was a meticulous one, and even being a child born with Amaranthus blood didn’t necessarily mean you were “one of them”. There was a process, a test in front of the family heads, the so-called proof that you had what it took to stand among the elite.

Soraya’s training began the second she displayed even the slightest fraction of power when she was only days old. Cries that seemed to amplify, sound reaching a pitch that could shatter glass, power surging in and out around their neighborhood. While most parents would’ve been terrified, hers shed tears of joy. From then on, Soraya barely saw her parents--practically shoved into the hands of her grandmother and one of the oldest living relatives she had who still thrived on the Amaranthus traditions.

Broken and mended, every second of every day was spent going over the history of the Amaranthus line; spent practicing magic, learning Latin, specifically learning how to defend and protect not only herself but others around her. At first, being the child she was, Soraya didn’t understand. A ‘crown’ so heavy, Soraya didn’t want it. She wanted a life of freedom, to spend it how she wished, love who she wished. But others her age were ruthless and cutthroat, survival of the fittest, so-called family that wouldn’t hesitate to do what it took in order to be the next in line for the throne. When she lost her first sparring match, Soraya realized then how much she did want it just like the rest of them. She wasn’t ready to be cast aside, wasn’t ready to give up what her family had worked so hard for her to achieve.

It pleased her grandmother to hear.

Brought to the deepest part of the woods, it was there her grandmother told her secrets the Amaranthus line could only dream of achieving. That survival meant dipping into what they were afraid of, allowing the light to be swallowed by the dark. And Soraya showed the promise of learning such dangerous magic. Treasonous words, but Soraya kept her secret out of both love and fear for the woman who’d all but raised her. In her heart, Soraya knew it was wrong--she’d been around long enough to know the cost of dark magic and practicing until it consumed you or you were executed. For the safety and protection of not only their coven but for all of Rome, her grandmother was insistent Soraya learn about dark magic. There were challengers that lurked in the shadows, whispers that were as seductive as mulled wine, envy that sat buried in the hearts of their future enemies. All it took was a little push.

When the time came for the next leader, Soraya hadn’t planned on submitting herself for testing. Forced to, given her direct lineage to the Amaranthus line. By this point, Soraya still wasn’t convinced this was what she wanted. What happened next left Soraya stunned. An explosion, fire rampant, monsters summoned from the dark and charging into the crowds. Soraya stood confused, watched as one of her grandmother had taken the stand, the former leader lay there dead at her feet. The twisted sneer looking down on those beneath her was an expression Soraya had never seen. Evidently, her grandmother had been passed over from the position ages ago and had continued to be passed over, held the grudge deep within herself, waiting for the moment to strike. Soraya knew the next move, and it broke her heart to be the one to challenge. The fight almost came at the cost of Soraya’s life, but she held, never once yielded, and the witnesses were the Coven she would then lead.

It was that day Soraya swore to take in only the best, to take in only the strongest because they could not have weakness among their ranks and they could not endanger the empowered individuals who carried the most potential. The coven was the future of Rome, and if she was the only one destined to protect it by her rule, then so be it. She’s aware they may be those who were influenced by not only her grandmother’s words but the whispers in the shadows. But Soraya has already proven she has what it takes to be the one to stand against the dark.

#( . intro ; )

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lykosog · 11 months

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“you have no idea what i’ve been through.” - Sansa

More random dialogue prompts / Accepting

❝ No ❞ yet he could imagine because of rumours he had heard. Something that reflected on his expression in a mix of both sadness and guiltiness for, deep down, he knew he was to blame for that as much as those who were directly responsable for making her suffer. A good brother would have followed their mother's advise and traded her for Jaime Lannister right a the beginning of the war while he still was his hostage without a second thought.

❝ But I promise you, ❞ Robb began in what had become his usual serious tone ❝ all of it is over now ❞ they were together, back in Winterfell...and, while he perfectly knew that wasn't any guarantee for happiness, it was close enough for now. They would built back their home and the rest step by step now that the North was starting to recover and unite itself once more under their family's sigil after all the damage the Boltons made during the time they had stolen the tittle of Wardens of the North.

❝ You are safe ❞ and if to emphasize it and make it seem more believable, the older Stark took a few steps fowards and grabbed her hands ❝ I won't let anyone or anything hurt you again Sansa ❞ it didn't matter whoever or whatever it may be, he would make up for his mistake back in the War of the Five Kings and protect her at all cost. He thought he had lost his family once and, now that he had found it, he was not going to let it be taken away from him again.

#𝐢𝐢. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐬 > answered #madesouls #a reunion with Sansa #is something that I always like #because there are a lot of different feelings #hope that showed well there!

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sailorshadzter · 7 months

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some soft jonsa.

set before jon leaves for dragonstone, as you all know thats one of my fave timelines hehe

When the knock comes to his door, he’s halfway into bed, wearing nothing but his breeches and a rumpled white shirt. He thinks, for only a moment, that he might ignore such a sound this late into the night, he’s weary after all, not to mention there is a long day of traveling ahead of him, but, he sighs and rises back up anyways. Thinking it will be but a servant with a message, he opens the door, quite surprised when he finds it to be Sansa standing there.

She knows she’s come too late, that she should have come hours ago, if not at all. But, she can’t let him go, even if she knows he must go. She hates to be left alone here in their home, the one he’d fought to get back, the one they’d risked everything for. She hates to be without him, in truth, n0thing more and nothing less. “Sansa,” he speaks her name in a way that sends chills down her spine and she smiles apologetically, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, silent. “Come in,” he says next, stepping back to allow her entry, his rooms as warm and inviting as they always have been. “Are you alright?” He asks as the door swings closed behind her, his Stark colored eyes full of concern, his mouth twisting in a frown. It takes all of his self control not to reach for her then.

“I am…” She speaks slowly, softly, something like a lie. Jon regards her quietly and she knows he knows she doesn’t mean what she says. “I just…” The words are there on the tip of her tongue, yet she cannot bring herself to speak so freely to him. Not in this way.

“Sansa…” His tenor vocals speak her name once more and she turns her eyes back to him, willing herself to find the courage to tell him the truth that she’s carried within her heart all this time. “Tell me…” He encourages softly, finally reaching his hand out to gently brush away a stray lock of her hair, falling unbound around her shoulders. She’s come to him this way before, yet never at all, with this new look upon her face. “Please, Sansa… Tell me what bothers you.”

“I am afraid for you,” she’s reaching for him then, hands taking hold of the front of his shirt, drawing him in close to where she stands. “I am afraid you will go and never return.” There, she’s said it now, and to her surprise the ground has not opened up and swallowed her whole. “I know you must go, but I do not want you to,” she whispers, tilting her head back so her blue eyes can stare into his Stark gray. “I am afraid that you will go and leave me alone.”

He softens at her words, the rush of his feelings leaving his every limb tingling. “I will come back to you,” he swears, one hand sliding into place against the curve of her cheek. She closes her eyes, against the tears, and he leans in so he might press his forehead against hers. “I promise you, Sansa. I will never leave you alone.” Her eyes open and his thumb swipes away the tears that fall, still so close that he can feel the curve of her lips when she smiles. “Have I let you down yet?” He asks next and she chokes, shaking her head- no, no he hasn’t.

“I dream of dragonfire, of war,” she whispers, not quite ready to accept it so easily anyways.

“Nothing could keep me from coming back to you,” he says back, pulling back simply so he might gaze into her blue eyes. Jon knows it is wrong, these feelings he has, but at this moment, nothing has ever felt more right. “Not dragonfire, not lions, not even the undead.” He would come back to her, simply because she was what he fought for, what he sought to protect. She was his reason to live and his reason to keep on fighting, even when giving up seemed like the easiest of answers. “I will come back, Sansa, and we'll be together again.” No matter the cost, he would stand at her side once more.

She’s sinking into him then and he’s wrapping his arms around her, her warmth seeping into his bones like the fire from the hearth. “You swear it?” She’s so close now, Jon can feel the twitch of her lips as she tries not to smile. He nods. “I’d like something to remember you by…” She says next and Jon sucks in a breath as he twists his arms around her, drawing her in. Everything he’d been taught told him not to do this, but everything his heart felt told him he’d should have done this ages ago. And so, he kisses her, willing every unspoken thing into it, hoping she understands, hoping she feels everything he’s trying to say to her.

And she does.

The moment his lips touch hers, she’s kissing him back, her hands threading themselves into his unruly curls. It’s a feeling she’s longed for all of these months, in truth, wishing for his soft touch and warm kiss when she’s beneath the covers of her bed late at night. “Jon,” she gasps when they break apart, holding one another at arm’s length, both smiling, both laughing, as if this was a moment they’d both been waiting for. And really, when they both thought about it, they had been waiting for it. They had been hoping for it.

His hands draw her in, closer and closer until he’s sinking onto the edge of his bed, the furs pushed aside from when he’d risen up just a short while ago. She’s standing between his knees now, her robe long since discarded, the thin white material of her nightgown giving him but a glimpse into what he might have. He reaches out, to undo the ribbons at her throat, allowing the nightgown to slip further down, past her shoulders, revealing to him the expanse of her throat and collarbone. He’s never seen this much of her. But there beneath his gaze he sees the faded white scars of a knife, the torture of a life she’s long since let go of. Leaning in, Jon presses his lips against a scar, wondering if she remembers each moment as he recalls his own. “I…” He cannot speak those words, the ones he’s held close all this time, the ones that would change everything.

“Say it,” she says as she steps from the gown, leaving her naked before him.

Jon catches his breath, one hand on her hip, the other at her breast. “I love you,” he says, the words he’s held onto all this time. The ones he’s wished to say time and time again, the ones he’s had to keep to himself. But her smile lights her up from within, perhaps giving her the courage she’s needed all along, the words she will carry with her as she’ll carry this very moment. “I love you, Sansa,” he says again, the way he speaks her name sending chills down her spine. She’s sinking into his arms now, legs hooked around his hips as he draws her down and in, her weight soft and warm against him. Face to face, she’s smiling still, radiant in the dying firelight, more beautiful than he thinks he’s ever seen her.

“I love you,” she whispers back and that’s enough, that will always be enough.

#jonsa #actuallyjonsa #jon x sansa #my writing #i wrote this

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