Chapter Two Through Northern Eyes

Early the next morning Sansa got an urgent call from her father.

"Are you OK? Is everything OK?"

"Yes dad everything's fine so of…"

"I want you to know that Jon told me exactly what happened. He's a good young man regardless of his father. But I'll leave that alone. Apparently, the two of you forgot to exchange information and he needs your phone number. Shall I give it to him? After all he does know where you live. He told me that he got you home safely last night. I have warned him about driving that Black Dragon more than twice. I must admit, I have ridden in it a couple of times myself. Death defying. Yes, if you can believe that of your old father. So my Sansa, can I give him your phone number?"

"Of course, dad. Please do. You may as well give me his as well. I think I'm going to have to work out some transportation issues with him."

Lord Eddard gave her Jon's number and like a good father reminded her to keep up with her studies.

"I love you dad."

"I love you too."

I'm going to text this guy and I'm gonna let him see my sassy self because yesterday I've got no idea what came over me. I mean I am thoroughly upset with myself for falling for those muscles and those grey eyes. Not to mention the man bun. Did I take a look at his buns? I guess I couldn't tell in those dress pants. Anyway that's beside the point. I think I was just in shock last night and he sounded so much like my dad that I just fell in line. And then, I wonder why my dad never mentioned that he was mentoring someone? It has been quite a while since we've had a whole family sit down dinner and dad is never one for work conversation since it is so stressful. I didn't even know he was working on this kind of legislation. I'm really proud of him. Does he think I'm just an airhead? Anyway, just as point of fact, I need to know what's up with my car. I need my snowflake fixed to perfection. I'm not standing for anything less.

Instead of just dictating directly to Siri, Sansa held the phone in her hand and thought before she dictated. She wanted to make sure her message was clear and conveyed a little piece of the real Sansa to Mr. Authority/you sound just like my dad. She took a deep breath and began.

"Hi Jon I'm just connecting up with you I'm a bit unclear about what I have to do with my insurance my father is so busy I don't want to throw this on him so I am trying to take care of it myself I would appreciate it if you would get back in touch with me to clear this up I'm very anxious about completing my senior project and need my transportation!"

A text came back so quickly, he must've had the phone right in his hand or sitting in front of him at his desk. Well I don't know what he does. The text was exceedingly cryptic. Thank the gods, he doesn't use emoji's!

"Your last class finishes at?"

"Therefore I will be there to pick you up at your appointed hour"

"At your convenience always Jon"

That was certainly a work text. I wonder if my father is standing right over him. It would be very unfair of me to put him on the spot right in front of Dad. I think I'll let this go for now. He's going to get a sassy text later on. A sassy, sassy text.

She wanted to answer his text immediately. Then he would know she was online as well. Sansa held her breath and counted to 10 then five more to 15 and then six more to 21 her last name day.

"Jon please put this number in as one of your contacts I will be finished today at the fashion institute at 4:30 I hope that is convenient for you please let me know if it is not thank you I am making this number into a contact for you now."

All I need is the photo to go with it. Oh, that sounds good. Yeah! There's a little bit of force in there. If only I wasn't such a Siri junkie. I just ramble on and on.

Sansa watched as the dots appeared indicating a text. Perfect timing.

"I will be there at 4:45 exactly until then"

Later on that afternoon Sansa got another text. It's simply read. "run or walk?"

"Both" she bounced back.

A text bounced back. "OK better be ready"

I wonder what that means? Good thing I have an extra set of clothes. I wonder if he means do I want to go running with him. Or is he proposing a romantic walk? As far as I can tell he's probably proposing a brow beating run.

Another text from Jon popped... "See ya"

That sounds like a challenge. I guess I'll be changing into my running clothes.

She didn't want to seem like an idiot so Sansa put aside an hour and researched the problems of the undocumented in the Gift. It seems there had been a long history going way back. Way, way back. There had once actually been a wall dividing the North from the far north. The wall stood for thousands upon thousands of years, until it went the way of the glaciers with global warming. Global warming had wreaked havoc, flooding the old fishing villages and established settlement areas for people who had lived off the grid for all these millennia. A mass migration was triggered many centuries ago. Recently during the past few decades, people had again streamed over this ancient demarcation line and into The Gift. Sansa had been to The Gift with her father. It was very beautiful. It was much colder there than at Winterfell. Still, people had created lives for themselves. Families had been there now for generations. With the advent of the long summer that was upon them now, there was another wave of immigrants and undocumented people. The current government at Kings Landing, Jon's father included, feared that they would soon take over too much of the land which had once been given freely.

This is Northern history, I should know this. Especially since, I claim to draw my inspiration from the North. I really need to get more political. I remember, but I don't remember. Just too interested in other things like clothes, parties, boys, clothes, pets, friends, photography and clothes. I know enough now…. Well… I have some facts, more or less, so I won't sound like an idiot when the topic arises. What exactly am I going to wear? How shallow can I get?

Sansa taught aerobics at the Institute three times a week so she went downstairs to her gym locker to find something that wasn't sweaty. As she was rummaging through her locker and bag she could hear her mother say "the first impression is always the most important." Sansa is stopped dead. I don't even remember what I was wearing yesterday. What was his first impression of me? I wonder if he's just doing this because he's afraid of my father or afraid of displeasing my father or losing his position. No, he's the PM's son. That'll never happen. And he knows he's got to get my car fixed. What was I wearing? Whatever it was, it was stylish at least I know that!

Thinking about John's cologne last night, his wonderful scent, Sansa decided to jump into a quick shower. Santorini Vine body wash and cologne. Of course shower before I sweat so I have great smelling sweat. By 4:35, she had dressed to her satisfaction in a pair of knee length jogging pants that Margaery had designed, so of course, they had some strategically placed mesh panels. Margaery vowed they were for stretching and cross training. All the while Sansa knew Margaery's goal was to be the Betsey Johnson of Westeros. Then a sleek top of her own design. White with black winter trees growing from the bottom and spreading their limbs up and out, across the top and on the shoulders. At the very tips here and there were a scattering of red leaves of the Weirwood tree. Just enough for contrast, she tended to be a minimalist. She threw on her favorite red Nikes. A little beat up but they would do. Finally, she applied sunscreen, blush and chap stick against the wind. She brushed through her hair and left it loose. She would braid it up when they got to their destination. Riding in that open cab, would do a number on her hair. Sansa checked the time and grabbed the humongous bag she had been toting around all day. At 4:44 she walked out the front door of the Fashion Institute. There bigger and louder than life itself, about as big as a dragon, she saw Jon's Jeep idling a few paces ahead. Jon must've been watching for her in his rearview and he did that amazing vault thing again and came around to help her up into the jeep.

"You know I am fully capable of climbing in."

"I don't doubt that. Your father made me promise that I would secure you in the seat. I can't have Lord Eddard's daughter bouncing out or hitting your head on the roll bar. That would only add insult to injury. Or in this case, injury to insult or injury to injury. Whichever way you want to put it." he continued as Sansa climbed in.

She allowed him to buckle the triple harness stating, "Next time I'm doing this myself."

"I reserve the right to make a safety check."

"Did my father talk about me like I was so fragile or empty headed. His empty headed daughter studying fashion."

"Quite the contrary he praised your choices. To quote Lord Eddard: "She is sharp and exacting and sees so much beauty in the world. I am so proud that she has always chosen to reflect the culture of the North in her designs." So you'll have to tell me? Do you fancy a run on the beach? I know a place where we can drive down right onto the sand."

"Here's something you don't know about me. I'm at aerobics instructor, so I can definitely handle your run."

"Let's go then."

Jon started the jeep up with a roar. He smiled approvingly at Sansa, then queued up a song on his iPhone. It was Bowie. Little China Girl.

"When I thought of you today, I thought of this song."

"Why because we had Chinese food last night?

"No, because you were wearing red heels with your jeans yesterday and you never once took them off. I was impressed."

At least he remembers what I was wearing last night. By the gods, I'm a total wipeout. It's got to be the PTSD…. not the grey eyes it's the PTSD.