A/N: So I'm really hoping that Jon will find out who he is and that he'll be an actual true born Targaryen and not just a Targaryen bastard (I mean that would suck, being a Stark bastard is one thing...) but since this is GoT I'm kind of half worried no one will ever tell him. I mean Bran just seems super freaky these days, maybe he'll skip the bit about 'I know who your parents are' and go right to the whole WW issue. IDK. Anyway I wrote this on the premises of Jon never finding out and lots of people dying in season 8.
All We Lost
It was late but Sansa knew he would be awake. She knew tonight would her last chance to see him. He's already said as much. Tomorrow he was leaving with Bran to go beyond the wall; lost to the world and to her.
She knocked but didn't wait for him to grant her permission into enter chamber her parents once shared. There he sat on the floor by the fire, staring into the flames looking as lost as he had every day since he the wars ended. So much death; Brienne, Pod, Ser Devos, Tormun and many many more all gone.
Ghost...gone.
Daenerys Targaryen...gone.
Arya...gone.
She wasn't sure which of these deaths affects him more. Ghost maybe, Jon's constant companion for so many year. Arya the little sister that never quite became the girl they had known even when she came home. Daenerys who Sansa knew he'd come to care for.
Probably more than he'd ever cared for her.
But that was right. Sansa had been horrible to him all his life, questioned him when he was fighting for her and their home and even later she hadn't been able to do anything to truly help in the final battle. She was damaged beyond repair from what Ramsey had done to her, she was nothing like the beautiful dragon queen. She had ugly scars and nightmares that made her wake in cold sweat. Broken. His broken little sister.
She closed the door and walked over to him, kneeling next to him, wishing he'd look at her again, like he had before. When they'd been reunited when she'd felt like every touch and every word between them meant something.
"I'm sorry," he said after a while, finally focusing on her rather than the dancing flames. "I know you never wanted to get married again."
"Don't be." It wasn't his fault. Her marriage to Tryion was a political move. She'd rule the north and he'd rule the seven kingdoms along with counselors from all the great houses of Westeros. They'd already talked about the fact that their would be no heirs and concluded that some solution would be found once the time came for Tyrion to step down. Perhaps the new council would be fine without a king.
"I can't even protect you," he said. "I said I would. I promised I'd keep you safe-"
"You have," she said, reaching for his shoulder. "I am safe. Tyrion will never touch me. I will be Queen. We have peace. The ream is safe."
"You should marry someone..." He seemed to think for a long moment as his dark eyes roamed across her face. "...someone brave and gentle and strong."
"Father said the same thing to me once." She put a hand on his face. "The trouble is, the only man I know who fits that description is you."
He looked away. "I'm not. I failed-"
"You didn't."
"I did," he said and pulled further away from her and then got to his feet. "I failed everyone."
He walked over to the shuttered, closed to preventing warmth from escaping, but he stared at them as if he could see through them into the snow covered night.
He was thinner than before. He bore new scars, she'd seen them when he was returned to Winterfell after the fight that had taken so many of them but he was still Jon. Strong and stout. He'd lived when so many had not. It was eating him up she knew. They'd killed Ghost, killed the Dragon Queen and her children and he had lived. She wondered if he wished he could have joined Daenerys. Simply died when she and all the others did.
That unpleasant feeling she always got from thinking of Daenerys and Jon, twisted in her and before she could stop herself, she rose to her feet and asked,"Would you have married her?"
"What?" He turned slowly.
"The Queen?"
For a long moment he looked at her just like he had that night before the Battle of Bastards. Like he would protect her, care for her and die for her. Like she was the one thing in the world that made sense. A look she'd missed for so long. Then the mask he'd worn around her since then was back in place.
"No," he said gruffly. "The north is my home. I would have come back here. I would have ruled with you."
"Then stay," she pleaded, crossing the room to stand close to him. "Stay with me and be King in the North."
"You're the Queen. You were always meant to be." He cupped her cheek gently, touching her like no other man had ever done; like she was precious. "I'm just a bastard. I'll never be more than that."
"You were King in the North-"
"But I gave that up. I bent the knee to her and lost all right to claim such a title."
"That saved us."
He moved his hand, touching her bottom lip with his thumb. "Maybe."
"So stay." But when she looked into his dark eyes she knew he wouldn't. Knew he was lost to her and it made her want to run and cry like the stupid little girl she'd been. But she didn't. If was the last time she'd ever see him and she would make the most of it, she wounded run off in tears, she would try talking him out of it and if she couldn't...then she'd find a way to say goodbye.
"I can't." he turned away from her. "I have to leave."
"Why?" she asked, putting a hand on his back. He tensed.
"Sansa." It was a whisper, a plea. She didn't understand. She wanted him to stay and she knew he wanted to, too. Winterfell was his home just as much as it was hers. They belonged there. Together.
"Why? Look at me and tell me why? Why can't you stay?" she demanded, somehow calm despite the confusion and anger she felt at the thought of him leaving.
"Because of this," he said roughly, spinning around and pressing his lips against his, pulling her body close against his bigger stronger one.
The kiss was nothing like any other kiss she'd ever experienced. Not a chased one or a violent one, even though the emotions inside her felt pretty wild and scared her. She expected fear, Ramsey had made her fear so many things but this was Jon. Jon would never hurt her. No, was a different fear, Jon didn't scare her. It was all of the possibilities and of all the things that could go wrong.
It seemed to take him a few seconds to realize she was kissing him back, holding onto him as hard as he was to her. She registered the shock on his face as he pulled back. Confusion. She was confused too. He was her brother, half, but still. But this was the thing she'd been wanting since that day he'd kissed her forehead so sweetly after taking Winterfell back for her. She hadn't been able to put words to it, but it had been there, in the back of her mind.
"Sansa," he said, moving away from her. "We can't."
Maybe that was true. Maybe not. Maybe this would be thing thing that spiraled the kingdom into another great war, just as the Lannister twins relationship had.
He headed for the door and she felt her heart squeeze painfully. She'd driven him from his chambers. And tomorrow he was leaving Winterfell; because of her. He was leaving because he felt like he'd failed to protect her. He was leaving because he wanted her when he shouldn't. She knew of no way to stop him. Of no way of making things alright for them.
He closed the door, not a slam but not very gently either and she was alone with only the fading sound of his boots.
She shouldn't have come. She'd made their last time together a disaster. She'd meant well, but now this was how they would remember each other.
Feeling dizzy she pressed her hand to her lips. One kiss. She'd have one kiss, one kiss from a person who truly cared for her. Who loved her. It would have to last her all the days to come, all the cold winter nights, because she knew she'd never trust another man to be so close to her ever again.
The footsteps that she'd heard retreating suddenly came back. Seconds later Jon opened the door.
"Tell me to leave," he said. "Slap me, call me bastard."
She shook her head and took a step closer to him.
He crossed the room in two quick stride and grabbed her and kissed her again. "Tell me to stop."
She pulled back from him. "Never."
That seemed to settle it for him and he picked her up, gently and put her on the bed. He touched, caressed and made her feel alive. He made all the fear and bad memories somehow disappear and when they came together Sansa felt no one had ever been luckier or safer or more loved.
When she woke the next day, on the day of her wedding to Tyrion, Jon was gone.
Not just from the bed but from the castle.
She cried then, like the stupid little girl she'd been, cried for the fact that she'd never see him again. Cried because she understood why he'd gone but hated him for it. Cried for all the things he'd lost. For all the things she'd lost.
Hope you enjoyed it! Should I add another chapter and give them a HEA?
