I never really got to see what the relationship was like with Jon and Sansa so I hope this does it justice. In this Jon is 15, Sansa 11, and Arya 9.
Disclaimer: Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire belong to their respective owners, which is sadly not me.
Jon Snow sighed as he listened to Arya's recount about her fight with their sister, Sansa. Again they had been caught squabbling by their lord father, and he had been none too happy. According to little Arya, it was all Sansa's fault, and he was willing to bet that according Sansa, it was all Arya's fault. Jon was a fool to believe that they would ever get along.
The nine-year-old was currently going through their fight again, yelling about how much she hated her sister. Jon knew that Arya didn't really hate the other girl. He knew what true hate was, he was often on the receiving end of it from Lady Catelyn.
This is what he gently explained to the little girl, though leaving out the part where he was the one who was hated. He was eventually able to calm his sister down and ruffled her hair, purposefully getting a rise out of her, but knowing she secretly loved it. He and Arya always had a special bond, both being the different ones of the family. They understood each other.
As the night grew dark, he led his sister back to her chambers, telling her stories warriors and dragons along the way. She had gotten sleepy though, so he ended up carrying her, her head on his shoulder as she dozed off. She was surprisingly light for a nine-year-old. He handed her off to her maids, and went to the direction of his rooms, in the opposite side of the castle.
As he made his way down the winding halls of Winterfell, he heard a small sniffle. He frowned when he heard it again. He turned, and went down a different corridor, a small out-of-the-way hallway that led from the dining hall. There he found the figure of a crying red-headed girl.
"Sansa?" He questioned, looking down at her.
"Jon!" She whipped her head up, caught off guard. She was holding her arm by her side, clutching it. The older boy could see a red stain forming on her sleeve.
"What happened, sister?" Concerned, he crouched down reaching for her arm.
"Don't touch me!" She shrieked backing away and glaring at him with bright blue eyes; Jon clenched his fist before dropping it, a sad look in his eyes. As he got up, even he thought he would leave, but when he heard another little sniffle, he couldn't and instead sat against the wall across from his half-sister. He brought his knees up, resting elbows on them, as he astutely kept his eyes on his hands. Had he been looking, he would have seen Sansa's surprised gaze.
There was nothing said between the two, and the silence grew awkward. Jon and Sansa had very little in common, in fact, the only thing they had was the fact that they were born of the same father. Even with that, Jon garnered little Sansa's respect; she took after her mother. He knew the eleven-year-old girl did not really hate him, but she did not like him either. He was below her.
Jon was more like Arya in his opinion of his other sister; he didn't get along with her either. But, still, Sansa was his sister and his father had taught him loyalty to his family. So he sat and observed the younger girl.
"You should let someone have a look at that." Jon stated, breaking the tentative silence. Sansa didn't reply and looked away instead. "How did that happen?" No answer. "Was it after your spat with Arya?" This time she looked up, confused.
"She told me." He elaborated.
"And I suppose you took her side then?" She said bitterly, a look of disdain about her. "I bet you and that little idiot would be dancing around happily about my arm right now if she knew." This time it was Jon who was confused; why would she think such a thing? The eleven-year-old clearly had some of the wrong ideas in her red-haired head.
"Arya would never wish you harm. She may say she does, but, in her own special way, she cares for you. She would not want to see you hurt, sister... Neither would I." Jon stated, looking straight at her. "I may only be half your brother but we are still blood. A man must always care for his blood." Sansa's defiant look softened a little, turning guilty.
"B-But, I have been horrible to you, Jon. I have treated you like nothing more than a-"
"A bastard?" He interrupted. She nodded once. "Well, that's what I am I suppose; a bastard." He could not help the bitter tone that entered his voice.
"No, you're not just a bastard Jon, you're also half my brother." Sansa replied, her voice strangely sweet. Jon met her eyes, surprised to see the sincerity that lay there. He knew that she would never call him a true brother, not really. But this was one of the few times she had actually admitted her relation to him with only kindness. The corners of his lips turned up a bit, though he would deny it later.
Slowly he stood up and approached her, coming to a decision. This time when reached for her arm, she did not pull away. He held her arm gently, turning it to see a deep cut, her normally flawless dress torn.
"What happened?" He asked in a quiet tone, repeating his earlier question.
"After Arya ran, I went for a walk; I was so furious and I... I stumbled." Jon was shocked to see the rather sheepish expression on her tear-stained face.
"Why did you not find your lady mother, or Father?" He asked, curious.
"I didn't want to cause them any more trouble today; they have enough to deal with." She said and he was struck by how thoughtful the gesture was. It was not something that his red-headed sister always did. "But it hurt, so I sat down for a rest."
"You should see Maester Luwin, he's a good healer. If you leave it, it could get infected." Jon advised, before abruptly taking his hand away from her arm and reaching for the small dagger he kept on him at all times. Carefully, he cut off a piece of his tunic; the thing was worn anyways. He took and began to wrap it around Sansa's injured arm. She wasn't sure how to react, so she sat perfectly still as her half-brother worked. Once he was done, he stood once more.
"You'll still need to see Maester Luwin, he will give a proper examination." Jon said. "Come on. I'll take you to him."
"But..." Sansa whispered.
"Don't worry I won't tell Father, or your mother. They have enough on their plate as is." He shot her a knowing look and for once he felt camaraderie with her she smiled back at him.
He led her down the hall, as she told him stories of brave knights and beautiful maidens who lived in palaces beyond their imagination. She didn't seem to notice, but in her fervour, called him 'brother', for once leaving the 'half' off.
Jon didn't mind, however. In fact, he did something that was rare for the otherwise sullen boy.
He smiled.
That's it! I'm sorry if it's a bit OOC, I wasn't sure how to write Sansa. Next is Arya ;) Anyways, I hope you liked it! Tell me what you think!
RW
