Chapter four

Sansa was falling through the air, the world rushing past her in a collection of colors and sounds. The face of her father, the voice of her mother. Robb's laugh and Arya's grin. Rickon's snores and Bran's hand holding her as Old Nan told them a story. Theon's heckles and Jon's sulking. She tried to grasp them but her fingers went through the air. Then the fall stopped, the air knocked from her lungs as she was dropped on her back onto cold, hard ice.

She gasped and coughed, gulping in oxygen and trying to relax her body until she was finally able to get up, roll onto her side and push herself up onto her knees.
She felt him before she even looked up. Darkness, cold, frigid evil was looming over her.

Slowly, Sansa lifted her head and looked up into the face of the true enemy of them all, the Great Other, the Night King. His skin was blue and looked to be made of the ice itself. His eyes glowed like blue fire, and from his hairless skull rose icicle spikes, like the prongs of a crown. Fear gripped every inch of her body, holding her down. There was something like a surprise in his eyes as he stared down his nose at her. One of his pale blue hands reached for her and suddenly Sansa's own hand made contact with something on the ice. She looked down. It was a horn, painted with runes. Something told her to grasp it. Blow it. So she did. She hurriedly brought it to her lips and blew with all the air in her lungs.

The sound of the horn reverberated all around her, the ground shook, the mountains cracked.

The Night King screeched and covered his ears. He staggered back and Sansa stood. That's when she saw them, the army of dead men and beasts. She faltered in playing the horn, and it was all the enemy needed. She was grabbed, her arms pressed to her sides and she was pulled to the Night Kings chest, nose to nose with him she stared into his eyes. It was like staring into Kinvara's eyes but what she saw in the cold flames was pure horror. There was no life, no hope, no laughter just death.

Then the world was on fire. Through the fire, she saw Ghost, Jon's dire-wolf. He had to be the size of a bear now. She noticed his eyes weren't red like they had been when he was born, now they were gray, almost black. They weren't his eyes she realized. It wasn't Ghost looking back at her, it was Jon. Somehow she just knew, Jon was somehow inside of Ghost's body.

"You have to go back!" she cried through the roaring flames. "You have to go back to your own body, Jon!"

The wolf turned his head, looked beyond the glorious white-tipped mountains, green trees, rivers, and fields of flowers. She could feel his desire to go, to make a life in the wild, be free of the constraints and responsibilities of a man.

"Please, Jon, don't go," she begged him, trying to reach him but with every step she took it seemed like the world moved him farther out of her reach, becoming smaller and smaller in the distance. It was up to him, he had to come to her.

She tried to think of what to say to make him stay, to return to his body. "Arya is still alive, she escaped Kings Landing somehow and is out there."

His ears perked up and he looked at her again. She knew if anything would get his attention it would be Arya. "Come back and we'll find her together, Jon. We'll bring her home. Just come back with me,"

He hesitated, looking at the beautiful vast wilderness again. Sansa felt herself growing desperate, tears sprang to her eyes and sizzled away in the fire that consumed her. She was a selfish creature. She should just let him go, let him find peace, and have a simple life through Ghost. It would be the kind thing to do. But Sansa was scared and she was selfish.

"I want to go home too. Don't you, Jon?" she asked him. "We should never have left Winterfell, we were such fools. I wish I could yell at myself 'Don't go, you idiot'"

She let out a weak laugh, and Jon titled his head at her. "I wish I could yell at myself for how I treated you, as well. You didn't deserve any of it. I shouldn't have been so cold, I just wanted to make my mother proud. I'm so sorry, I hope you can forgive me."

She heard the crunch of snow and she saw Jon approach her. She smiled at him and said nothing, letting him come to her at his own pace. Something tugged at her gut and she felt she needed to warn Jon.

"Wait, before you come any closer, you have to know…" Jon halted, staring at her curiously. "There is a woman, Kinvara, she is a priestess of the Lord of Light. She thinks you have some great destiny to vanquish an evil from beyond the wall and become king of the Seven Kingdoms. I don't know what her plans are for you, but she needed me to bring you back. That's why I am here."

She looked at her chest where she remembered Kinvara had run her through. If Jon came back, would she too. Or would she be stuck here in this place?

Sansa closed her eyes. This wasn't about her. "I...I don't think you deserve to be used. I know what it's like to be manipulated and played with for someone else's gain. I owe it to you to tell you the truth before you decide to come back,"

"I saw him. The Night King," the name had just come to her, entering her mind the moment she saw him. "That's what you call him, isn't it?"

She watched as the wolf nodded.

"I saw his army too. Even if you came back, I don't know how you would defeat them all," she sighed.

"There are dragons," she told him, Kinvara, the priestess I mentioned. She says you can wake dragons from stone if you come back. I saw two, nearly grown. One took me from the Vale, and the other, the other one took your body from the Wall and brought it to the Red Priestess."

"I am still struggling to understand it all myself if there is anything to really understand. We are wolves and suddenly were are being chosen by dragons." Sansa rubbed at her arms, feeling cold despite the fire around her. "I feel so lost, Jon. I don't know who I am or who I am supposed to be anymore."

Sansa didn't know what else to say. So she didn't say anything. She touched her breast and wondered again what would become of her if Jon returned, or if it mattered at all for her whether he did or not. She had been stabbed. She still tasted her own blood on her tongue. Jon was the one Kinvara needed to resurrect, not her. She was simply a sacrifice, a messenger, she realized now to help bring Jon back. Sansa had tried so hard to survive Kings Landing, her aunt, and now this was how she had died. Well, if it was at least for the sake of her family, perhaps it wasn't such a terrible death.

She smiled at Jon, a sweet, loving, wide smile. "I want you to be happy, Jon. Don't come back for me, don't come back for Arya, come back only if you want to. It's ok, if you don't. I'll understand. Arya will understand."

Sansa blinked and the wolf was gone, instead, Jon stood before her, her face cupped in his hands. He was smiling softly at her. In a way, she had only before seen reserved for Arya. "If I don't come back when I have the chance and watch over you, your father's ghost will come back and haunt me."

Sansa forehead pinched, confused why he would refer to their father as only her father. Jon had always been proud to call Ned Stark his father before. But she didn't have time to question it.

Jon took her hand and stepped into the fire with her.

He made his choice.

So I think Jon knows the truth about his birth. What do you think?

Also, there is some foreshadowing about Sansa's capabilities, hints if you will in regards to the horn she blew. That will be explained though much, much later in the future.

I know this chapter is super short. I am simply going with the flow and what feels right.

More to come soon.

Please remember to leave a review! They give me so much joy and encouragement to see how far I can take this.