I do not own Game of Thrones

When Jake Breon's mother suddenly moved them to Winterfell, Jake didn't think things could get any worse. After being taken from his childhood home in Drone, Jake had thought that nothing else could possibly happen until he met Jon Snow, his new neighbor.

Mr. Snow was a grumpy old man who Jake tried to avoid if possible. He'd been told that when Mrs. Snow had still lived, Jon had been a different person. They said he was kind and pleasant, a person always willing to stop and help with even the smallest tasks, that you could call on either of them day or night and that they'd both be willing to help. They say that after his wife's passing, that he'd never been the same.

Jake was pretty sure that most of it were made up, after all, Jake had never seen Jon so much as smile since he'd moved to Winterfell almost a month ago. The old man kept to himself, didn't even bother to reply to anyone who greeted him at the local outdoor market.

Jake had seen the scars which littered the man's face. The crescent silvery scar which circled his eye, the one which broke in two, beginning above his eyebrow and ending on his cheek, but leaving his eye untouched. Jake thought that maybe he'd taken part in the great war, some 60 years ago.

It wasn't until one day during history that he learned that not only had Jon taken part in the war, but he was the famed war hero, Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen, once heir to the Iron Throne. Anyone who was anyone knew about Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen.

When the class was asked to write about someone from History, Jake thought that who better to ask then Jon, but then would the old man actully be willing to talk to him? Well, he wouldn't know till he tried.

"No!"

"But you didn't even let me ask my question," Jake tried, following Jon as he made his way back up his driveway, having returned like clockwork from the market.

"Whatever you're going to ask, the answer is no."

"Please, tell me about the war."

"No!"

He was running out of time because as soon as Jon reached the door, any opportunity Jake had would be gone. His eyes whipped around looking for something, anything that might get Jon to open up to him. Flowers, a mailbox, Snow, Snow? Mrs. Snow.

"Your wife," Jake shouted, and Jon came to a sudden halt. "Your wife lived through the war too, tell me about her."

Jon's head turned, cold dark eyes observed Jake with contempt before they lightened slightly. "You best come inside if you wish to hear about her."

The inside of the house was littered with photographs, some in black and white, other's filled with color, but what all of them had in common was the couple who stood side by side in each photo. "Tea?" Jon asked, motioning for Jake to take a seat at the small kitchen table.

"Oh? No thanks, not much of a tea drinker." Jake confessed.

Jon grunted in response and instead placed in front of Jake a glass of fruit juice instead, the boy nodded his thanks as Jon finally took a seat opposite him. "So Kid, what would you like to hear about?"

Scrambling for his bag, he pulled out his notebook and pencil. "Well, I guess we could start where the two of you met?"

Jon smiled, humming deep within the bad of his throat as his hand reached up to scratch at the gray beard which covered the lower half of his face. "The first time I laid eyes on her, I knew there was none but her for me,"

She was beautiful, a sight to behold and he found that he could not tear his eye's from her person. Jon had grown up around beautiful things, had been surrounded by beautiful people, but nothing could compare to her whose hair blazed like fire, nothing could compare to her, whose name was Sansa Stark.

They had met on a cloudy morning, a fog had set in during the early hours. It meant that you could barely see past your nose, but somehow, he'd seen her, skin pale, hair a blazing red and eye's that sparkled like sapphires. She'd been sitting high up a God's tree, her singing had drawn him to her.

Another girl sat back against the bottom of the tree, her hair honey gold, styled so that it fell in loose curls, while the red heads hair fell long and free. "How long till they discover we're gone?" The girl asked, her voice interrupting the lovely melody.

"Shea won't say anything, but Arya will likely tell mother." Her voice was lovely and carried on the wind to where Jon stood, partly hidden behind a tree. "She'll say it's for all the time's I tattled on her."

The other girl gave a pearl of laughter as she stood, brushing off her skirts before reaching down to gather up the blanket which she'd been sat upon. "Maybe next time you'll allow her some freedom, Hm?"

"Maybe if she stopped running off with the butcher boy, I wouldn't have to tell mother." The girl said, fixing her own skirts once she'd landed on the ground, her boots barely making a sound as she tapped the toes of them against the ground.

"Oh Sansa," The girl holding the blanket linked their arms. "Let her enjoy this time, she'll not have it much longer."

Jon stayed hidden as they passed, not wishing for either of them to see him. He was still in uniform, and his position as Crown Prince wasn't something he wished to reveal as of yet. He wasn't here on office business, but he hadn't had time to change, his belongings have not as of yet arrived.

"Oh, my book?" Sansa said, coming to stop as she looked back at the tree. "I'll just be second."

"I'll go ahead, make sure that no one's noticed our absence."

"I'll hurry back," Sansa promised, turning and striding back towards the tree, already taking note of the book sitting up high on one the branches. Jon watched as she hiked up her skirts, exposing her stockings as she began to carefully scale the tree.

It was just as she gripped the book that Jon seen her foot slip, her hand coming free and her body beginning to fall back towards the cold, unyielding earth and his body moved without thought. One second he was hiding behind a tree, the next? He was laid out his back, the girl Sansa groaning from the impact of landing on him.

"OH?" The look of surprise would have been quite amusing had his stomach not taken the full damage of her landing. "I'm terribly sorry, but thank you, for breaking my fall that is," She said, her cheeks flushing red as she scrambled to escape the hold he had taken on her as she fell.

"It was no problem, miss." His own cheeks felt flush, swallowing he followed suit and stood, finding that she was level with him in height, wisps of her hair followed the wind, the fog acting as a barrier around them.

"I thank you again, but I really must return home." She said, her eyes flickering off behind him, no doubt looking for her friend.

"Of course, my Lady." He acknowledges her by nodding his head, his eyes never once straying from her lovely blues eyes. Never before had he been bewitched by blues eyes, but then again, he'd never seen eyes the same shade of blue as those of Sansa's. "Might I at least ask your name?"

The fog has slightly lessened, the surrounding landscape becoming clearer. Sansa watches him with uncertain eyes, her lips pursing as she mulls over the idea of sharing her name.

"It's Sansa, Sansa Stark." She says right before she disappears back into the fog, leaving Jon standing alone.

"And you knew just from that, that she was the love of your life?" Jake asked, eyebrows frowning as he listened to Jon. He didn't claim to know anything about love, seeing as the only person he'd ever loved was his Mom, and he knew that it wasn't even remotely the same as the love of which Jon spoke.

"That was all it took," Jon made it sound like falling in love was the simplest thing in the world. "She'd captured my heart in that one moment, something no one else had managed to do before, and even though it took time, I managed to gain hers in return."

His lips twitch into a smile when finally he catches sight her. "Sansa,"

Sapphire eyes turned to Jon, a smile gracing her lips as he came to halt before her. She was in the woods again, sat perched high up in the tree where he'd come across her the first time. She's in white knee length dress today, the Gatsby T-strap Shoes he bought her have been left at the base of the tree, her hair's braided today but still shines a stunning red in the sunlight which streaks through the branches above her.

"Jon," She breaths.

It's been some time since they'd last seen each other, duty had called him away. He writes as often as possible, but with him moving around so much Sansa has been unable to respond to any of his letters. The shoes had been one of the many gifts he'd sent her way as he traveled, the book held in her glove covered hands another.

The book is her hand is carefully closed and set on the branch next to her as she turns, her legs dangling. Immediately his arms raise, catching her as slips down the tree into his waiting embrace. He steps away once she is safely on the ground, yet his hands fidget wishing that they could remain around her.

Sansa's smile is as bright as the water which surrounds Tarth as she reaches out to entwine their hands. "I knew you'd return," He can hear the relief in her voice

"I'll always do my best to return to you." It's what he said each time he had to say goodbye, and each time he prayed to old gods, her gods, that they might let him lay his eyes upon her once more, forever if they allowed it because there was nothing more beautiful on this earth than Sansa Stark.

"You're still in uniform? Did you come straight here?"

He ordered his bags to be taken to his usual room after alighting the train. People up North cared little for the wars that went on in the south, they had their chosen family, the Starks, and for the people of the North, there was no one else who could take their place in their eyes. So Jon was able to come into Wintertown without a single person knowing his true position.

"And risk not being able to spend time with you? I wouldn't dream such an offense." Heat flared across her cheeks at his words, dusting them a light pink. Her teeth left imprints on her bottom lip, her eyes drifting down to the ground, her sock covered feet suddenly move fascinating. His gaze softened as he tilted her chin so that their eyes might meet again. "I love you, Sansa, and one day when this war is finished, I hope you'll allow me to stay by your side, forever."

Jon set the empty cup in the sink, his broad back facing Jake. "War isn't something to be proud of, taking the life of another isn't something you should take pride in, it brings about something foul in a person's soul." Jake felt a chill as Jon spoke. "Everyone is someone's treasured person, be they son or daughter, father or mother, brother, sister or friend. I remember every person who died by my hand. I thought of those who would never again get to see them smile, hear their laughter, hold them close. I fought so that I could return to Sansa, but how many other's like her never got to reunite with the one's they loved?"

Jake had always loved learning about the war, loved to hear how his hero, Jon, had slain the enemy but maybe he shouldn't have. It occurred to Jake that he didn't really understand what true war was, that if it had been his loved one that Jon had killed, would he look up to him the way he did? No, he wouldn't.

"I died during the war. My heart completely stopped, but for some reason, I came back." Jon carried on, still facing away from Jake, his gaze staring out into the back garden. "I quit after that, tried so hard to let myself slip away because I couldn't understand, why I survived?"

"And Sansa?" Jake asked tentatively.

"She found me, and together we ran away." Jon began.

"Run away with me."

"Jon?"

"I love you, I will give up everything, just, come with me." Jon pleaded, squeezing her hand gently as he stared into bright blue eyes.

She swallowed, her free hand resting on his neck, pulling him so that their foreheads touched. "Anywhere, tell me where, and we will go."

Jon closed his eyes, his one hand coming up to mirror Sansa's. "Home."

"North," Sansa replied with a smile. "You might not have been born in the North Jon, but you are one of us."

"We need to go," Jon said, suddenly pulling away and looking at the nearly empty train station they found themselves in.

Sansa smiled, her hands moving to straighten out his jacket. "Who knew that running away together would lead us back to where we began."

Jon smiled, pulling her onto the last train. "A new start, a new beginning for the two of us."

"The two of us." She promised.

Jake's brow pulled down as he recalled the stories. "You gave up your title and slipped away with her, cutting off all ties with with the royal family."

"We came here." Jon turned back to face him, leaning back against the granite counter. "The North was Sansa's home, and as far as I have traveled, I have never found a place as beautiful as right here."

"So, you just gave up everything for her?" Jake asked curiously, not understanding how Jon had basically given away his kingdom for just one girl.

Jon shook his head. "Sansa was my everything, and if I could go back, I wouldn't change a single decision I made throughout our life together."

'The secret life of Jon Snow' would be the story which brought Jake Breon to fame.

His time with Jon had been short, but Jake had always had a knack for writing. Every word which had fallen from Jon's lips had been captured by ink on the blank pages which Jake had brought along with him that day. Of course, Jake had visited Jon many more times after that, hearing about the life he'd built with Sansa, of the laughter which had once echoed the now silent house, of the tears Jon had shed when he'd been unable to awaken his sleeping wife.

The story itself wasn't about Jon, but about the beautiful red-haired girl who captured his heart one fogging morning. How that one moment changed his fate, how that one girl changed his life, how something as simple as love can the course of history.