A/N: Hey everyone, thank you so much for the reading and subscribing! I really appreciate the feedback. This story (due to the fact the season is ending tonight) is probably going to turn from an even timeline, to jumping to big events in the future. I'm kinda creating basically my ideal outcome for the story, even though it will probably be nothing close to it. But hey, it's my story. I'll have time stamps at the beginning of chapters to show I've jumped ahead (ie: 3 years later). Hope you'll still enjoy.
XXXshiloh
Sansa and Jon sat on her bed, across from one another. She felt silly, almost, talking to him like this. Like they were children again, staying up late telling ghost stories. And in a way, they were telling ghost stories.
He was telling her about the whitewalkers, about the battle of Hardhome.
"I don't mean to scare you, Sansa, but you need to know what we're up against." he said, looking up to see her terror stricken face. "I've already began preparations for it. It's being worked on. Fire bombs and the like."
She nodded, her hair falling around her face as she did. She brushed it away, annoyed.
"Here." he said. "Turn round, I'll braid it."
"You can braid hair?" she asked, incredulously.
"I've been riding horses longer than you've been walking, Sansa." he said, grinning. "It can't be that much different, and you keep getting bothered by it. Turn."
She adjusted, and spun around, leaning against him slightly. His brow furrowed as he went to work, folding her long thick hair into sections, touching her head with tenderness. He worked quickly, from the crown down, and was done in a moment. He stroked the single braid, and Sansa fell against his chest, sighing. He kissed her cheek.
"Thank you." she said.
"Of course. Anytime." he said.
"You're so gentle with me." she said. "I didn't know what that was like. That men could be gentle."
"I'll never be anything but, until you ask." he said. "You deserve gentleness. Nothing but peace, and calm, and gentleness. I'm sorry we don't have that."
"We will." she said. "Someday, Jon, we will live here in peace, together, with our family. Like we were meant to."
He slid his hand over her abdomen. It had grown into the smallest bump, but he could feel it now. It was there, and it felt like his. He wished, for a moment, that it truly was. Maybe after, if there was peace. Maybe they could...
She interrupted his thoughts by turning around and kissing him. She held her breath as she did, waiting for the flashbacks to begin, like they usually did. She would close her eyes and feel Ramsay on her lips, not Jon, and she'd scream and shake and Jon would hold her and tell her it was fine, and remind her repeatedly that he was gone, and she was safe.
But this time was different. She tasted his lips and tasted Jon, his breath smelled of ale and tea, his lips were softer than sin. She dug her hand into his curls, clutching onto his reality. Reminding herself again and again, it was Jon. Jon. Jon.
He fell back into the pillows, and she straddled him, never once taking her mouth off his. He made a deep groan of pleasure, at allowing himself to grab at her like he wanted to. He rolled her onto the bed, stroking her face with his hand carefully, kissing her slowly. Her nightgown was sheer, but he craved that contact again, now in a whole different context.
He lifted it up slowly, waiting for her to stop him, but she didn't, she only watched him, focusing on his face. He kissed around her breast, and down her ribs, carefully attending to each scar. And then, when his mouth found the softness between her legs, she jerked up with a scream, scrambling away from him.
She looked at him for a moment, blinking repeatedly, affirming it was him.
"I'm sorry." she whispered.
"Sansa." he said, reaching for her. "Don't be sorry. Are you alright?"
"I just want...want to be normal." she hissed in frustration, tugging on her braid.
He sat beside her, but waited for her to lean into him before he touched her further. When she did, he gathered her into his arms, and brushed away her tears.
"You are." he assured her. "Also, it's going to take time to heal."
"I am sorry, though." she said again. "You deserve someone who isn't broken."
"Sansa." he said, and turned to face her. "You are an incredibly smart woman. Don't spout such nonsense."
"Thank you." she said, dipping her head down. "I'm not sure what I'd do here without you, Jon."
"You would be fine." he said. "I have no doubt, you'd be just as capable with or without me."
She felt her chest swell with emotion, in the fact that someone genuinely believed in her. Cared for her.
"You'll be the queen and I'll just be your humble servant." he sighed, and kissed her shoulder with a smile.
"We will rule together." she said. "Together."
"Together, then." he said. "Are you ready to sleep now?"
"No." she whispered. "Tell me more stories."
"If you insist." he said with a grin.
The next day, a party went out to survey the lands, and talk with some of the nearby subjects. Sansa and Jon headed the party, with 15 men behind them. Davos at Jon's side, Brienne at Sansa's. The day was grey and blustery, but both the Starks felt right at home.
They rode at the edge of the forest, chatting amiably. They'd just left the keep of a smith a few paces behind, who told them he was in great health now that the Starks had returned to Winterfell. Mist fell in waves beside the forest, and Sansa could feel her hair frizzing up, something unladylike, she was sure. But at the moment, she didn't care. She was outside, free, breathing in the fresh winter air.
"There." Jon said, pointing to the road a way off. A carriage had just crested it.
"Just a traveler, Jon." Sansa said. "It's nobody of importance. No flags, no gilding."
His brow furrowed. He felt something shift in his gut.
He turned his horse in that direction. Instead of calling out for him, Sansa turned, following. His face had piqued her curiosity.
As they drew closer, the carriage stopped. Someone emerged, a small figure. And to both their surprise, began running, full tilt, in their direction. The brown hair looked familiar, Sansa realized. As did the face shape. Both her and Jon came to to the same conclusion nearly simultaneously.
"Arya." Jon whispered. He kicked off his horse, running forward. Sansa was struck with such shock it took her a moment to do the same.
Pure joy filled Sansa, a white hot flame of happiness lit inside her belly as she rode. Jon beside her had a much different feeling. He thought, as he rode, the last time he rode this desperately towards a sibling, it ended in tragedy.
But then she was there, and he dismounted, gathering her in his arms as she cried. Sansa was there too, then, on her knees in the mud with the pair of them. They were a mess of words and chaos for a moment, touching eachother's faces and holding eachother's hands, reminding them they were real. They were together. And they were alive.
The horses thudded up behind them, interrupting the moment.
"Arya!" Brienne said in surprise when she saw the girl, and the rest of the party realized what had happened.
"Where did you come from?" Sansa asked, holding Arya's face. "Where have you been, Arya?"
"Braavos." she hiccuped. "And I came through the Bay of Seals, about a week ago, took the river to Last Hearth, and the carriage here. You're here. You're both here." She looked up at Jon. "Aren't you abandoning your post, crow?" she asked, arching a brow. He smiled, wider and brighter than he had in a while.
"We have a lot to talk about, little one." he said.
"Come on." Sansa said, standing, helping her sister up. "You need a bath, and some food."
"Can I?" she nodded to Sansa's horse. "It's been a while, but I've missed it."
"Of course." Sansa said. "I'll ride with Jon."
"Good." Arya said, sniffling.
Sansa climbed up behind Jon, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"Shall we race?" Arya called.
"Oh, now I see why you wanted her over here." Jon said with a grin. Arya shrieked with laughter, and kicked the horse off.
Then they were all running, running. Speeding towards the castle, together, in the freezing wind of winter. The horses kicking up mud onto their backs. Jon and Arya laughing and shouting at one another, Sansa squealing to slow down, pressing her face into Jon's back, but grinning all the while.
And for a moment, a precious wonderful moment, it was like nothing had ever changed.