authorsnotes: I genuinely think I've rewritten this chapter upward of 15 times, but finally here it is! so annoying how writers block can cause delays but hey ho, here we go!
I do hope you enjoy, do leave a review if you did.
song recs: exile - taylor swift & bon iver (how is this not recommended on this fic yet?)
The first night was restless.
They'd talked for a while, Jon telling story after story, wracking his brains for more, as with each story, each berry, each smile, Sansa seemed to do better, smiled herself, forgot some of her homesickness, held him closer, and even told a story or two of her own, reminding him of the Winterfell days.
Unsurprisingly she told no stories of Kings Landing.
Jon once again felt a surge of anger, that she'd been subjected to that, suffered that; that he hadn't been able to save her.
He knew it was pointless to dwell on, as angry as it made him, as, much as it made him want to turn around, back to Westeros, to root every Lannister out of King's Landing, take their heads from their necks as Sansa oversaw, watching justice be done, watching what honour would demand.
On the Wall he hadn't always been honourable, the Watch and the Freefolk had taken things from him he would never get back, his personal honour sometimes among them, but he had always tried. Always tried to match what his Father, what Eddard Stark would want, to keep his personal honour, struggle as it was.
Perhaps he would regain it one day, when he killed all of those who had wronged Sansa.
Jon didn't consider himself a vengeful person, but in this instance, he felt the blood boil in his veins, the sing in his blood to demand honour.
But for now, that was pointless to dwell on, he needed to focus on the now, on protecting Sansa now, on making sure she settled into her, their new home, came to no harm, and he would. His sword wasn't far from him, even as they had turned in for the night, Ghost guarded the door, and as a last line of defence he had a dagger under his pillow. No one would hurt Sansa again, not on his watch.
Not ever again.
He slept fitfully but was thankful each time he woke to see Sansa sleeping okay, mumbling a touch, and looking a little distressed, but sleeping, and he felt at the moment that was the best he could hope for.
It was too hot for him to be comfortable, he was used to the cold, the chill in the air, not this stuffiness, even with the light blanket, it was too much, and so he found himself getting out of bed, stealthily, so Sansa wouldn't stir, and made his way to the window, no real view, but to take in some fresh air, to try and will away the heat.
This was not where he belonged.
He belonged in the cold, with the crunch of snow under foot, Ghost running happily through the ice. He belonged under furs and blankets, the wind whipping against his face, his teeth gritted against the chill. He belonged in the North.
He knew Sansa belonged their too, felt the drive to go North, the pull back there just as he did, but perhaps she was a little more acclimatised to being away from it than he was, he had no doubt she'd rush back as quickly as he would if they were safe, but whereas she slept soundly in the heat (as did Ghost, provided with chilled ice in a large tub for him, and a huge bowl of cold water the direwolf was content), Jon just couldn't.
He knew it was because he was also on alert, extremely cautious that anyone could break through the door at any time, they had enemies on all sides now after all. And he had Sansa to protect, his final vow, he had broken others, this one he would not break.
And yet, there was much to be done to ensure Sansa was protected.
For now, they were safe as they could be, considering the circumstances, hiding in the East, and yet what came next? The money would run out eventually (though by Jon's calculations with the sale of all Sansa's jewels and his savings they could live for several months on what they had), but it was more than that, what was their purpose?
And Jon was not naïve, he knew assassins could travel over the sea, they weren't safe, not really.
Jon looked out the window, the view of just houses on their street, each identical, one floor, spacious and clean but not of luxury, though to Jon it was, compared to lodgings at the Wall. This was not his home though, nor Sansa's.
As he forced himself back into bed (for he needed sleep, he just couldn't find it), he wondered if they would ever return home again.
It would have been safer to stay inside, to keep their heads down, to avoid any social contact.
However, they needed supplies, and Jon knew there was a tactical advantage to learning their new home, understanding the area, the people, the risks.
It reminded him of scouting at the Wall. Peering over the edge, eyes on the ever-imposing tree line, searching in the snow, waiting for anything to pop out. Here there was the opportunity to understand their new area, even with the risks it presented, they needed to know them after all, to defend against them.
And so, as he glanced at the bathroom door, he knew when Sansa emerged from her bath, he'd suggest they head out, find lunch, and scout their new area, as well as grabbing supplies, they needed new clothes, not Westerosi clothes, they needed food and shoes and soaps, and all the stuff one needed in their home.
This wasn't home, but they had to act like it.
What else were they supposed to do? They could hardly stay locked inside, even though they would be far safer. But then, the safest thing wasn't always the correct thing. He'd learned that the hard way.
He was ready for the day, weapons strapped to his belt, Longclaw at his hip. He'd be on alert, he was always on alert, he both had to be and couldn't not be. This was his way of being now, too long at the Wall and the promise of protecting Sansa: he didn't know any other way.
That was a good thing here though, they were in a new foreign place, on the run, hiding in exile. He knew he wouldn't be able to relax or let go of his vigilance for a while.
If ever.
"Jon?" He turned as Sansa emerged, freshly washed, in her spare gown, a dark hood covering her far too recognisable hair, that stood out against her pale skin.
It struck him just how different Sansa looked, how grown up, she was a far cry from the slip of a girl who had ran South with dreams of Knights and Tournaments. Now she looked more formidable, an icey look to her gaze, lined with steel, though he could see a flicker of vulnerability under it all, of fear. He didn't like to see that but was glad she was not completely closed off, Sansa was still there, just with steel lining her gaze.
Jon found it suited her.
"Ready to head out?" He asked and Sansa raised her eyebrows at his suggestion. "We need supplies, scope the area"
She nodded, and Jon again felt warmed at her immediate trust in him; it was nice, to be trusted so completely, and he promised himself yet again - he would never squander or break that trust.
"We could use new clothes" Sansa said, glancing down at her dark gown, and then he looked down at himself, still in black with his long fur cloak. It was too warm for it, but he didn't feel right without it, he grimaced at the idea of parting with it but knew he had no choice.
He nodded, though he had no intention of wearing silks and bold colours. Perhaps it would be a good idea to change into some clothes that didn't so obviously scream 'Crow' but he knew he'd never be comfortable in frippery.
"And food" Jon said, he knew they needed to be prepared to leave at a moment's notice or hunker down, and for that they needed supplies, bags ready to scoop up and run with, food if they needed to lay low for days. Right now, they were woefully underprepared, and Jon knew he needed to right that.
One thing he'd learned at the Wall was the importance of being prepared … for anything at any time, there was no sense in just hoping things worked out,
"To the market?" Sansa asked then, reaching for her bag, and Jon reached for his. It would be good to stock up.
"I heard people talking about another market on the other side of town" Jon said, having heard such a thing the day before, a few Westerosi tourists discussing it. "What do you think? We can see more of the city, and get outside for a bit"
Sansa paused, seemed to ponder it, "Will it be safe?" She asked.
Jon offered her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, patted his sword at his side, he wasn't arrogant, and never would be, but confident in his own skills, he was sure he could fend off any thieves or anyone who tried to harass them. "I'll keep us safe"
Sansa nodded at that then, and his smile grew, again her trust in him emboldened him, "What about Ghost?" She asked.
One glance at the direwolf (lazily lying on the floor, snoozing happily), told them they'd get short shrift if they tried to move him, and so Jon shook his head. Besides, his companion was far too obvious, they might have well as screamed, 'We're from the North!'. No, Ghost would travel with them, Jon couldn't bare to leave him behind (and wouldn't have succeeded, Ghost would not have allowed it), and was an excellent guard but parading him around the city would not be wise.
"Let him sleep" Jon said, and Sansa nodded then, securing her bag, as he did too. His sword at his hip, dagger on the opposite side and his cloak hanging low concealing both they were ready to go. He did pause at the door though.
"Do you want my dagger?" He asked, holding it out, it wasn't valyrian steel, but fine castle forged and would do the job.
Sansa shook her head though and he nodded, "I wouldn't know how to use it, would probably cause more harm than good" She said with a roll of her eyes and he laughed; he understood that, being untrained could be as dangerous as just slashing a knife through the air, "Besides, you'll protect us"
"Aye" Jon said, and it was a promise, for the rest of his life, it was a promise to Sansa.
The market was quite something.
Sansa had never really been to a bustling city market, in Kings Landing she had mostly stayed inside, and in the North, they had no such thing. It was equal parts overwhelming and fantastic.
Stall after stall, selling everything one could hope to buy, Sansa was sure if you left the house needing something, no matter what it was, you could find it here.
Spices that made the air fragrant with sweet and salt, food that made her mouth water, clothes in every possible colour, silks that were so fine to touch, tapestries depicting every possible God, fireworks! Glass sculptures of cherubs, knights, demons, nuts towering over in piles, ready to be cracked open. It was colour, it was a fragrance on the air, it was the exact kind of place one could get lost in.
Sansa liked it, smiling to herself, enjoying the hustle and bustle; this is what she'd hoped from Kings Landing, but the city had been a sore disappointment. She grinned as a seller waved her over but shook her head, she could negotiate far better than Jon yes but for now they needed to focus, and she wasn't so hardened that sellers couldn't take advantage, they'd need to be careful.
And poor Jon, she near laughed as he followed next to her, one hand on his sword glaring at everyone. She knew whereas she could blend in here, with an easy smile and her courtesies always winning people over, Jon cut them a path through the crowd, not out of people moving from politeness but rather out of fear.
"You know you don't need to glare at everyone" Sansa pointed out, she felt in much greater spirits being outside, in the fresh air, the sun was harsh, but a gentle breeze made it easier to weather. This was the most relaxed she'd felt in months.
Of course, she was no fool, she was still on alert, but she did allow herself a smile, didn't she deserve that reprieve after so long?
"I'm not" Jon insisted, but at that she rolled her eyes; Jon had always been one to brood. With a smile she tucked her arm through his (though she allowed him his sword arm free, knowing otherwise he'd protest), and he softened a touch, though she knew Jon would never be comfortable in a place like this.
She wouldn't either not completely, this wasn't their home, it was fun to experience, and her smile didn't drop, but this wasn't where they belonged.
The North seemed so far away in comparison, a mile from where they were now. In the North the markets were for trading and bartering, money rarely exchanged hands. People didn't set up stalls selling wares, the castles made their own goods, and then would trade them at the door, or as was the way in the North give them out to those in need. Sansa remembered one year when the summer snows had been thick knitting blankets with her mother so to hand out to people cold in Winter Town, her Father and brothers handing out bowls of stew, no trade or money asked for.
It was different here by comparison, everything had a price, and that made Sansa feel even more homesick, they couldn't be farther from the North she was sure.
She'd learn soon enough she was wrong.
"We should start with clothes" Sansa said, and Jon nodded, she could see him grimace at that, and she understood, the clothes here were certainly … different, but they were both dressed in Northern garb which was far too hot and restrictive here.
And so, they approached the second clothing stall Sansa saw, she had dismissed the first, looking at Jon's wide eyed worry (which she had stifled a giggle at), at the colourful clothes, and went for something a touch more muted.
Still, they were in Essos, colour was encouraged here, they'd have to make do.
Sansa browsed for a minute, but as she turned to get Jon's opinion he shrugged, "You've far better taste than me" He said, "As long as it is practical"
"Your husband is quite wise" The female seller said with a grin, to which Sansa near dropped her smile, though she held onto it, the thud in her heart something she ignored (for a while yet), using her courtesies as her defence, as they had kept her alive in Kings Landing, and she knew they would here.
Jon had his sword; Sansa had her words.
"Yes, he is" She said, better people think they were married, odd as that may be for them (though deep down not as odd as it should feel, to either of them, but that was not something either was ready to confront), another layer of protection for both of them, for anyone asking after brother and sister would not be pointed their way.
"Can we get three of the tunics, three of the breeches, two white shirts, two tan" Sansa said, starting with Jon for he would be far easier, she sometimes envied how easy it was for men, "That cloak" She pointed at one a dusky brown, Jon's black garb really did stand out, especially here, "And then smallclothes for him and me" The woman nodded, and quickly gathered up three tunics, all a dusty brown, the cloak which would brush the floor and was itself a dusty brown too, and smallclothes enough for both of them.
Next, came the dresses. Sansa knew her current gowns were too bulky, she had never moved to a Kings Landing style, preferring her dresses to keep her covered, and she had no intention of wearing anything that revealed her skin here, and yet it seemed she had little choice.
"The blue, the purple" She paused then, the blue and the purple were modest, both cinched with silver wide belts, and though they were sleeveless one had a sort of cloak running down the back of it, the other large swaths of fabric from either shoulder. They were beautiful, but cut low on the chest, however there was nothing else that showed any less and that was the style here, and they needed to blend in.
"And the orange" She said then, the orange dress was beautiful, clipped with a gold belt that had dangling gold tassels, it once again dipped lower on her chest than she would have liked and was sleeveless, but looked comfortable. Three dresses seemed more than enough, though her eye was drawn to one in grey; her colours. It was pretty, clipped at the neck with a silver woven collar, and though it had sleeves they dropped to the elbows leaving her shoulders completely exposed. The belt was the same as the collar, and though Sansa wasn't sure, she spoke before she could stop herself, "And the grey"
The seller nodded, grinning now, pleased with such large purchases. Sansa turned to Jon who smiled at her, though he did not look too interested, she could hardly blame him for that.
"And how do you intend to pay?" The seller asked, not as an insult but that was clearly how things were done here, Essosi merchants accepted all types of currency and wears, but Sansa knew once again she'd need to barter.
The previous victory of scoring them good housing for a good price sung in her veins as a reminder, and she smiled at the woman before making a suggestion.
They had silver stags a plenty, and gold dragons tucked away, the gold dragons were a little pouch worth Sansa had kept in her jewellery box and taken with her, she also had jewels but was reluctant to part with them, not out of sentimental value (she had only kept one necklace at her throat, one of a dragonfly her mother had given her and she did not intend to part with), but because jewels could be traced, she had stolen all those Joffrey and Cersei had given her, and knew she couldn't use them too much in case people came asking and the jewels were recognised.
And so, she would need to be creative.
And Sansa was determined to get them a good deal. Jon hadn't even stepped in at all, he trusted her with this, this was her contribution, and she would make sure it was a good one.
"Part trade?" Sansa asked and the woman nodded; yes, just as with the landlord from the previous day, this was how things were done in Essos. "My cloak, and his, and forthy silver stags" She said, going off Kings Landing pricing, her cloak was very high quality, Jon's not so much but had strong leather straps and was fur lined, the stags seemed reasonable too, yes they were buying a bundle of clothes but they were cotton fabrics, not silk, and the buckles and belts were silver and gold, not gems.
The woman seemed to mull for a second before shaking her head, "Your cloaks and sixty"
"Fifty, and we make it a deal now" Sansa said with an eyebrow raised, "And you throw in those" She said then, in a moment of inspiration, pointing to two lengths of sand coloured fabric, perfect for hoods in the hot sun if needed. "And I'll throw in this" She added, unhooking the grey shawl from her neck, the sun hot on her head but nice.
"Deal" The woman said immediately, she wanted their business and knew haggling too hard would drive them to another seller, as there were plenty; that was something Sansa had counted on and grinned to herself, when there was more competition, it was easier to make a deal.
"Nicely done" Jon whispered as he handed her his cloak and Sansa's grin only grew. He looked a little lost without it, but handed it over without fuss, as she did hers, there was no time for sentimentality. Finally, she handed over the shawl, and the woman packed the clothes, smallclothes, and hoods in a large cotton bag for them, grinning at a fine purchase for the day.
And at that they moved on, Sansa grinning, tying one of the hoods immediately, right now she intended to cover her head until she changed, red hair was uncommon here but when she was dressed differently, she knew she wouldn't stick out as much.
Jon stuck out less without his cloak as well, though he grumbled as she pointed that out, though offered her a smile and his arm as earlier as they moved on, Sansa with a little smile and a spring in her step.
"Did you say I was your husband?" Jon asked then and she noted a bit of colour to his cheeks, which had hers colouring too, to which neither said anything.
"Easier in case anyone asks" Sansa said hurriedly and Jon nodded, and neither spoke of it any further.
Three stalls later and they had stocked up on lots of essentials, Sansa's confidence growing more with each small, her smile firmly in place but not false.
Jon had even teased her a touch when they'd been to the medicine stall, buying a basic kit, and some salve designed to ward off sunburn, and she'd haggled furiously to get down the price of the salve, grinning smugly as she handed over only 15 silver stags for the basic medical kit, and three pots of it. Sure, she paid a fair price, but had haggled the seller down from 25, as she knew he had been trying to overcharge.
"You're a natural" He said good naturedly and she grinned, swatting at him but secretly pleased.
To Sansa it was once again her way of contributing, Jon would protect them, but she would see them clothed and fed, it was a purpose, and that was key to her.
In Kings Landing she'd had no purpose, no place, and sometimes in the North she had felt that way even. In the North she would be married off, in the South she was a hostage, but here? Here with Jon? She was an equal, both helping the other survive, and her entire self was blossoming with that knowledge, so much so she was near beaming, and didn't even note Jon next to her smiling to see her so.
They'd also stocked up on a sewing kit for Sansa to work on their old clothes if needed, handing over Jon's gloves (good quality leather but wholly useless here where they'd only make him sweat) for the supplies.
Now finally they were at the food stall, and that was simple enough. 10 silver stags covered bread, meats and some fruit that would last them a couple of days, as well as rolls for each of them now, Sansa had hers stuffed with orange marmalade and cheese whilst Jon went for sausage and a vegetable chutney.
"I see your sweet tooth hasn't waned" Jon teased with a smile and Sansa giggled, in truth it never had, there were times in Kings Landing when she'd felt sick from grief and had only managed to hold down lemon cakes.
"You should try it sometime" She teased back, and Jon laughed, it was nice, the two of them strolling in the sun, eating food, fresh clothes and food in their bags, ready to head back to a version of home for now.
It wasn't perfect, it wasn't them walking in the snows of Winterfell, eating Old Nans pies, their cloaks scraping against the ice, Arya and Bran running past them laughing, Rickon following behind. It wasn't their father stood with Jory and Rodrick as they passed, or Robb coming to join them. It wasn't home.
But it was as good as they had, and as Sansa took Jon's arm again and they made their way through the streets of Essos that was some relief, no matter how small.
Tomorrow they would plan what to do next, would pack emergency bags and scope out the rest of the city. Tomorrow they would change their clothes and conceal their true selves, tomorrow they would plan.
For today they just walked arm in arm and allowed themselves to breathe, just for a moment.
A moment too soon, as neither realised they were being watched.
Neither realised a spider climbing up the wall had noted both of them and would be scurrying back to its Master with the news of Sansa Stark and Jon Snow, arm in arm, for the world pretending they were husband and wife, hiding away in Pentos across the narrow sea.
sooo thoughts?
I did enjoy painting a picture of essos and we will see more next chapter! as well as more kings landing...
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speak soon