It was early morning and he had woken from a dream of spring.

He'd been walking through the gardens of Winterfell abloom, the sun high in the clear blue sky. There, at the very center, had she stood, like a beacon calling out to him. A crown of wildflowers were woven like a crown on her head, petals falling down the light blue gown she wore. He loved that gown, even in the dream he knew that he did. Sansa... Her name had been on his lips, a familiar sound that offered him comfort even to his sleeping mind. She had smiled upon him in the dream, opening her arms to embrace him, her body warm and solid, a reminder of the waking world. He pulled a single blue rose free from its bush behind her, offering it to her, if only to watch her face light up with another smile.

The moment Jon woke, he dressed, pulling on the cloak she'd painstakingly made for him before the long winter, the pads of his fingers brushing the direwolves stamped into the worn leather. Down the corridors he went, out into the courtyard, but his feet took him another path rather than to the stables or towards the godswood. Instead, he walked along the outer gate and into what once had been the gardens he'd dreamed of. Every inch of it was covered in a sheet of ice and yet he still could not help but to marvel at the beauty of it. The winter roses had once bloomed there in these very gardens, but then the true cold came and even wiped those away. Jon found himself longing to see the blue roses, to inhale their sweet scent, and to tuck one or two into beautiful red hair.

Spring was coming though so he supposed it'd not be long he would have to wait. Everyday they came a little bit closer. The snow had begun to melt beneath the warm winter sun and no longer did the cold snatch the breath from a man's lungs. In truth it was becoming quite like it used to be, before the long winter had ever come.

He was reminded of his childhood winters, where he and his brothers would wrestle in the snow and laugh when Arya pelted them with snowballs. He remembered how it felt to throw an arm around Robb as they walked back to Winterfell, tired and out of breath, but happy just to be with him. It wasn't all that long ago that he thought he would never again be as happy as he was then. Jon missed Robb terribly some days… So much so that it hurt. He missed Rickon too, the little brother that he had failed. He could not help but to think of what it would be like if they were still alive, or at least if Robb's wife and child had lived beyond the wedding feast. Would the child look like a Stark? Or even a Tully? Robb always had favored his mother looks, after all. Or would it have looked like its mother, a beauty they said, though foreign. And little Rickon... He'd be growing into a man now. Jon would have smiled upon him when he found his first love and maybe even married her someday. Shaggydog would play in the courtyard with Ghost and perhaps even Nymeria would have someday rejoined them with pups along with her.

"Lost in thought, are you?"

Turning at the sound of a voice, Jon could not stop himself from smiling as his eyes fell upon her. She was bright-eyed in the morning sunlight, her red hair a stark contrast to her black cloak. "Thinking of our family." He admitted as she stepped closer, his own arms winding around her as she fell into place against him. For several long moments he held fast to her, breathing in her sweet scent, ever thankful that she was there for him to hold. "I miss them." She drew back then, a gloved hand reaching up to tenderly touch his cheek, her rosy lips torn between a frown and a smile. Of all people, she understood his pain.

"As do I," she spoke softly, her voice catching as she too thought of the brothers left behind, of the mother and father she no longer had. "But we still have each other." She reminded him with a nod, her hand sliding down to press against his heart, the beat of it strong against her palm. "We have Arya and Bran." It was his turn to nod, his own hand coming up to catch hers. "Come... Arya was already talking about a sparring match." She rolled her eyes, but her smile was easy-going, those same eyes twinkling. Jon chuckled, his hand in hers as they made their way back towards Winterfell, where sure enough Arya already stood with Needle in hand.

Sansa let his hand slip free from her own, watching as he strode confidently towards the girl he would always call little sister. She could not stop herself from smiling as she watched him pull her into a tight embrace, laughing at something she said. Across the way, Brienne stood beside Jaime, their shoulders brushing as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. For the first time in as long as she could remember, everything felt right. Everyone was happy, truly happy. Her family had been broken apart, nearly destroyed, but they had pulled the pieces back together and found happiness again. Soon, it would be spring and everything would be green and lush again, even the winter roses would bloom again soon. Jon had promised her the night before the battle with the Night King that he would bring them to her the day they bloomed again and she knew that day would come sooner than they all thought.

And for that, she was oh so happy.

[ x x x ]

When she woke a few days later, Sansa rolled onto her side and there on the table just across the way was a bouquet of beautiful blue roses. Her heart swelled and she rose up from the bed to stand before the table, gingerly brushing her fingertips across the delicate petals. Against the vase he'd put them in, a folded up parchment leaned, and she raised it up so she could read the words he'd written across it.

Spring is here.

A smile touched her lips and she turned to the other wall, where her newest gown hung from a peg. Jon had brought her the bolt of fabric from King's Landing just weeks before, a beautiful pale blue silk she'd insisted was too much for her. But he'd grinned and said nothing was too much for her, for his queen. Queen... still yet the word tasted funny on her tongue. As a child, she'd dreamed of nothing but a crown of her own and now that it was hers it almost sounded wrong. Even so, she'd done as Jon had bid and made herself a new gown with the fabric, promising only to wear it when spring came again. As he'd promised to bring her the beautiful roses, she promised a gown, and so she dressed herself in the blue silk and braided her hair and pinned it into place as she did every morning.

Making her way down to the main hall, she found him already there, as if waiting for her. He could barely catch his breath as he caught sight of her in the blue silk gown, her dark cloak draped over her arm and a radiant smile upon her face. "You're like a dream." He said as he approached her, his compliment sending a rush of heat to her cheeks. "Like a dream of spring." This time she laughed and swatted at him playfully. "You're missing something though," he admitted, drawing back to inspect her closely, his dark eyes finding hers as she frowned. From his cloak pocket, he pulled a single winter bloom and reached for her then, carefully tucking the rose into her hair, the color vibrant against the red. "There." He grinned before he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. "Now... You're perfect."

Sansa smiled and opened her mouth to speak, but the door behind them opened and in came the first of the servants to bring in their morning meal. Soon, all of the others would begin to join them too. They only had a few more mornings together like this before things began to change, before Jon would be crowned King of the Iron Throne and she his queen. They would go to King's Landing for a time, but he promised they'd return to Winterfell as often as she pleased. No King before had lived anywhere but King's Landing, but this would be a new reign quite unlike any King before him.

Taking their seats at the head table, Sansa smiled as Arya came into the room, her dark-eyed little sister taking her place beside Jon. Bran came next, his spot on her other side. They were the last surviving Starks, the last three true born children of Eddard and Catelyn Stark and the one time bastard of Winterfell. Touching the flower Jon had tucked into her hair, she could not help but to smile. Their dream of spring had finally come true.