authorsnote: the journey continues

I am really into writing jonsa atm, so I hope to update this many times as this jonsa fever continues

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songrecs: like I'm gonna lose you - jasmine thompson (her cover is soooo good)

The road was long, dark, sparsely populated, and they ran into trouble more than once.

But the trouble had been barely that, cutthroats who'd demanded their purses and horses, four of them in total, menacing and speaking in harsh tongues, looking at her too much and growling almost.

Sansa had panicked, worried they'd have to hand everything over, would starve on the road before they reached the Eastern most Free City, had even grabbed her purse, prepared to hand it over for her life, her hands trembling.

After all, there were four of them, what could they do but hope they were placated by just robbing them? Four of them!

Turns out, it didn't matter.

She'd known Jon was good of course, had seen him fight a little, seen him train at Winterfell, she knew he was good, a good swordsmen who would do everything to protect her.

She just hadn't realised how good.

He'd dispatched the three men, a sword in the tummy of one, a slash across the chest for the second, and a then a dagger, thrown perfectly to lodge in the third, and running mans neck, Ghost had ripped out the jaw of the fourth.

He'd barely broken a sweat.

Sansa had never liked violence, always squealed, and squirmed away from blood, from gore, and yet as Jon had killed the four men who would have robbed them and left them for dead, she'd felt something stir.

What it was she wasn't sure, but there was no mistaking it was there.

She never should have doubted him, had said as much and Jon had just shrugged, cleaned Longclaw and hopped back up on his horse, had nudged them forward, Ghost had followed.

"How are you so good?" She'd asked that night as they'd settled in an outcropping of rocks, to catch just a few hours of sleep, Jon seemed to run on next to none but had to have some, it was dark and quiet enough, the ground flat for miles to warn them of anyone approaching, and so he felt safe to rest.

"I just am" He'd said, hand on his sword even then, even as Ghost sat on Sansa's skirts, cuddled into her, he would let no one pass.

"I'm glad" Jon had managed a smile at that, had wrapped his arms around her, it was warm enough here, but there was comfort in lying next to one another, having someone's arms keeping her close, and safe.

They'd slept for a few hours, Sansa with her head tucked into Jon's chest, she slept far more soundly next to the Essosi roads, cradled in Jon's arms than she had in the finest feather bed of Kings Landing, here she was truly safe.

Jon had made sure of that.

But they could not sleep for long, even though they weren't disturbed as the sun woke them and nothing else, they had to move on, they had a lot of ground to cover.

A lot of ground to cover.

It took them just over two weeks (16 days) to reach the furthest free city, and they felt every second of it.

They had to stretch the food out, and though she protested when Jon gave her more than he took himself he insisted, pressing it upon her to which she smiled, and made sure to slip him more the next night.

Ghost ate the best out of all of them, finding various animals to eat. Jon had a small bow on him and caught them a few rabbits, he'd never been an amazing archer but knew enough to catch them dinner a few times which helped.

The water was easier thankfully, one day it rained so hard they drank their fill, Sansa holding a blanket over their heads as they shared a horse and tethered the other closer, Ghost running through the sheets of rain like a dog having a great time. There were also wells dotted along the roads, especially as they passed through Norvosi territory, but it was still difficult.

The roads wound, they had to dip South, past ruined settlements to remain on track, and as they got further from Pentos and the lands of Norvos it became quieter and quieter.

Sansa had thought the North was sparse, stretched out and barren, but this was something else, as they got further East in Essos, there were no markets, no towns, just ruined villages and settlements, some still standing and just barren, others just chunks of stone and burnt out husks long abandoned. She was thankful they had enough food, that Jon could catch them bits, even if her stomach did start to grumble as they approached Qohor.

It was sad in some ways too, passing the ruined settlements of Ny Sar and Ar Noy, once prosperous lands they were now ruined structures, buildings crumbled, canals stinking of stagnation. A few people were seen in the distance, pirates, and Jon urged them forwards.

That night Jon hadn't slept a wink, had insisted on keeping watch, Ghost too, alert in front of her next to his Master.

How she did it he didn't know, but Sansa resolved not to complain once on the journey. Even as her tummy hurt, and she had never felt so exhausted or filthy in her life, she kept her mouth shut. Jon was running on hardly any sleep, vigilant with his hand on his sword, had, had to dispatch two more smaller groups (one of three, one of two) who tried to bother them, and did so again with ease, Ghost always at his side.

"You're good at this" She'd whispered as they'd taken shelter in an abandoned village that night, hiding in a half torn down house, plenty of grass thankfully for the horses to graze upon, they'd even found a standing apple tree that they had managed to find 12 fresh apples from and had gorged themselves on, but it was cold, and they huddled together, Ghost in a puddle by the door, he preferred the cold, and though he slept, she knew at even the snapping of a twig he'd be up and alert.

"At what?" Jon had asked, head tipped back against the wall, he sat nearest the ruined door.

"Fighting" She had almost said killing but softened it. "Do you enjoy it? We all enjoy what we're good at"

"I don't"

She hadn't pried at that, had instead insisted Jon get some sleep, and his head had dropped to her shoulder, and he'd been asleep within minutes.

That felt good, being able to do something for him, she'd kept watch for an hour, had even given into the urge to stroke Jon's hair away from his face, if only to offer some comfort for the burden he was shouldering for her, and then had succumb to sleep herself.

She rode her own horse most of the time, though when they rode through the night (as they sometimes had to), Jon tied them together and she rode with him, her back to his chest and often fell asleep, never finding as much comfort as she could in Jon's arms.

Something she'd need to deal with eventually, but not now.

As they rode, and she rode in his arms she would often crack open one of the books they'd brought along, read through the limited passages on Qohor, explain to Jon what to expect, he'd ask her questions, and learn where they were heading to.

There wasn't tons of information about Qohor, other than it being called 'the sorcerers city', and was considered the most exotic Free City, as well as the gateway to Eastern Essos. Sansa had already thought they were in Eastern Essos, but apparently not.

Sansa read out loud that the people of Qohor believed in the Black Goat of Qohor as their god, which demanded daily sacrifices.

"Not our Gods" Jon had said offhandedly.

"I don't know if I believe in the Gods anymore" Sansa had replied sadly, for she wasn't sure she did, they'd never answered her before, why bother with them?

"You do" Jon had replied, so sure he almost convinced her there and then, "Our Gods, the Old Gods"

"I turned from them" Sansa said with a sad sigh, she had turned from them, the Gods of her Father, the Gods of the North, she had often wondered if that was why they had never answered her, or perhaps they just hadn't been present in the South.

"You can turn back" Jon had never been devout she knew, and yet he sounded sure as he spoke.

"When did you get so religious" She'd said jokingly, and Jon had laughed.

"Not religious, just the Wall, the Freefolk, they give you a new perspective on the Gods" He said with a shrug, "They are distant, but here, there is too much happening for them not to exist, think of the Others, think of Ghost and all we know"

They had left it there, but that night, as Jon had found them an abandoned village to hide in, and he had slept with an arm around her, Sansa had sent a prayer to the Old Gods, her first in a long while, as Ghost had slept across their feet.

She hoped they had heard it.

As they rode through the next night, and Sansa held a torch alight she balanced a book on her lap and spoke through the city's defences in Qohor, the Unsullied they paid handsomely to defend against the Dothraki. Qohor welcomed visitors but were wary of foreigners who extended their stay. Jon would carry his weapon everywhere, and Ghost would always be at her skirts.

Much as he was now, but it wouldn't be as safe as Pentos.

But then how safe had Pentos been?

They practiced their High Valyrian on the road too, and she was baffled as to why Jon seemed to pick it up almost triply as fast as she did. Whereas she could string together a few words to make passable sentences, somehow within just two months of practice Jon could hold full conversations. Odd.

He had teased that she was just jealous and she'd pouted for an hour.

Still, they had resumed soon after, it kept them busy on the road.

They also spoke, checking in on each other, talking about what they'd do once they got to Qohor (find a house, Jon would maybe have to find some work, they had enough money for several months still but didn't want to run out), what precautions they should take this time (stockpile more food in case they needed to make a dash for it, Jon vowed to train harder, Sansa vowed to get more books that explained nearby areas in case they needed to move again), and what they would do next (to be decided, all of there focus was on Qohor for the moment).

A lot of the time they just remained quiet, riding side by side. Sansa soon became used to her horse, her legs growing stronger, riding legs either side, no side saddle now. Jon had insisted she strap a dagger to her thigh (she had protested she didn't know how to use it, he'd laughingly said 'stick them with the pointy end' and then seemed a touch solemn before insisting she could not be unarmed).

They continued on and on and on, and though Sansa knew it was necessary, knew they had to hide deeper and perhaps had been foolish to hide in Pentos, so close to the Narrow Sea, with each step they took, each trot of the horse, each time Ghost looped past them, she felt further and further away from Westeros.

From home.

Would they ever go back?

On the 14th day she was sure she saw a City on the horizon, more settlements around it, not bustling like the villages and towns in Westeros, but busy.

It was warm too as they got further East, much warmer, and Sansa had shed any cloaks or furs, any hopes of clinging to them and wore one of her lightest dresses, a summer blue one that slashed across her shoulders, leaving her arms bare, the ribbons covered her chest and the skirts flowed to her feet (where she wore sandals), but a lot of her back was uncovered, her pale skin struggling in the hot sun if not for the creams they'd packed.

Jon had switched to a leather set of armour he'd picked up before they'd left Pentos, brown leather top, straps crossing over his shoulders and arms, braces on his arms, and hard metal splaying over his shoulders. He wore brown breeches and his brown cloak continued to brush the floor (he refused to be parted with it).

They both blended in more, and yet somehow remained a standout, for Jon it was easier, though he looked obviously Westerosi Northern as he tanned, and his hair grew out with his curls and a beard he could be overlooked.

Sansa though, she didn't realise what a picture she made … Jon did.

In her different dresses, pale white skin on show, long red hair flowing down her back; she often wore her own cloak with a hood, mainly to protect against the sun, and yet sometimes she let her hair flow free, rippling in the sun and wind.

Twice Jon had slewn men who'd offered to buy her in thick accents with wondering eyes, Sansa's breath had been taken away as a result, not that she'd admit that.

Though that night as they'd rode through the darkness, wrapped in cloaks now as the temperature dropped, her back to his chest, her head tucked in, she had imagined what Jon would have done if he'd gotten ahold of Joffrey, and had been asking him the question, blurting it out before she could stop herself.

"If you'd found me in Kings Landing and got to Joffrey" She paused then, felt Jon stiffen, knew he hated that he hadn't rescued her, even though he hadn't known, even though he couldn't have, she didn't blame him, had told him so several times, "What would you have done?"

"Killed him" The lack of hesitation made her smile, and shiver, even though the air still hung warm.

Simple words, no violent threats, no posturing, just simple.

Perfect.

"Thank you" He'd unstiffened as she'd said that, and she'd felt his smile as he'd placed a kiss atop her hair, and she'd fallen asleep with his arms circling her.

As the 16th day came, they reached Qohor.

They could barely see the City, as it was surrounded by strong stone walls, just as Sansa had read, and as they got closer she noted Unsullied lined the road approaching, banners heralded the City sigil, and they paused at the gate to enter the City, one of the guards stopped them, as expected.

"Business?" One of them barked in a bastardised version of Low Valyrian, Qohorik, Sansa understood it only as she'd tried to remember a few key phrases.

"High Valyrian?" Jon asked, in High Valyrian, as they faced off across horses, Ghost sat at their feet, so silent he didn't even spook the horses around them.

The guard nodded, and Sansa nodded at Jon, it made sense for him to lead the conversation, for more reasons than one.

"We're here to stay a while, touring the Free Cities after we wed" Jon said, in the practised speech they'd rehearsed and rehearsed, Sansa had blushed when Jon had suggested they keep masquerading as a married couple, his own cheeks pink, it made sense considering Westerosi assassins would be looking for a brother and sister.

And yet the night he'd suggested that she'd barely slept, her mind so confused, her cheeks still stained red.

"Do you have funds?" The guard asked, a standard question.

"Yes" Jon said with a nod, "We are from Westeros, my Father, a minor Lord paid for our tour" Again they had rehearsed this, no point denying they were from Westeros, Jon too Northern, Sansa too Tully. They had also decided to pretend they were noble, Sansa looked it, and it explained their funds, it was risky, but Sansa just hoped no one looked too closely.

"The wolf?" The guard asked, "Is he trained?"

Jon only whistled in response and Ghost trotted to his side and sat, he was a wild animal, but he knew his Master and the guard was satisfied. Sansa hadn't anticipated trouble with Ghost, Qohor was a sorcerer's city, and saw all kinds of oddities (when she'd said as much to Jon she'd swore Ghost looked offended and thumped his tale, Jon laughed as Sansa had given him lots of ear scratches in apology).

"There is a fee to enter" Jon nodded, they had read about this too, and he handed over the small amount in Pentoshi coins they'd changed in Pentos, easier here than Westerosi currency, but they'd need to get some Qohor money too.

At that the guard nodded, clicked his tongue, the gate opened and they hurried forward, Ghost followed, Sansa remained close to Jon, nervous as they trotted into the City.

Into there new home … for now, and yet even as they stepped inside, Sansa could see, the buildings, the people, the temples, the smell even; they were indeed far from Westeros.

Far from home.

and they are in qohor! next chapter we will explore the city

and yes, the sorcerers city will certainly have some interesting stuff in store ... especially for jon; I'll say no more (for now)

hope you enjoyed