authorsnotes: DUM DUM DUM

rly enjoyed writing this chapter! I hope you enjoy reading it, and if you did do leave a review!

songrecs: breathin - ariana grande (there is a fantastic video by chemicalattraction on youtube to this song for sansa, entitled keep breathin' | sansa stark, one of my fav sansa stark videos, highly recommend you check it out!)

Everything was foggy.

The sound of bells was alarming in her head, the air swam around her, the strong scent of perfume and fruit made her feel sick.

The swirl of the curtain that caught her eye, the red flat-topped houses, the sand-washed streets. It was all so familiar, so real, and near unchanged since she had last seen it.

Yes, it was smaller, less houses, no Sept of Baelor, and she couldn't see the Red Keep, the stench much muted and she could see one or two structures she didn't recognise but regardless it was Kings Landing, the hell hole, the gilded cage, the place she had promised herself she would never come back to.

The second she had passed the Neck, had rode North with the wind at her back, she had vowed never to return, had vowed that she would live and die in the North. It had been a vow to her heart, to never go South again, and yet here she was.

Her hands shook, and she could hear Jon speaking, but couldn't make out his words. There was a roaring in her ears, like wind was rushing through her head, her eyes focused on the red roof's, she'd stared at them so often from the window of her old room in the Red Keep, she couldn't stop looking at them, out to the docks, Blackwater Bay.

This was her hell, this was her nightmare, she felt sick in her stomach, bile in her mouth, an ache in her head, the rush of fear in her veins, adrenaline spiking across her chest, her heart starting to race, she felt physically ill, she wondered if she might faint, had she fainted?

Was this all a dream? Had she fainted and was dreaming? Had she died? She recalled just moments earlier...

The cold, it had been so cold, colder than a normal Northern winter, even with the White Raven having flown, the chill seeping into her bones and threatening to freeze her from the inside out. She knew they had carried the chill, the unnatural freeze, they had brought it, like Jon said they would.

'They bring the storm...'

And they had. The fight at Winterfell had barely been that, no, it had been a massacre, men chopped down, women butchered, even children pulled away screaming, body after body falling. Even in the crypt they had heard the screams, and then the dead had awoken, turning the one safe place into a bloodbath, almost no one had escaped, except her.

That moment felt etched into her memory. Running for the door, almost skidding over in someone's blood, the sounds of a servants scream as he was butchered, Gilly covering little Sam's body even as they tore her apart. She would have vomited had she not been so scared, breaking into the courtyard, the scene before her even more harrowing.

Piles of bodies, the stench of death on the air, and so many wights, so many, too many…

She had made it to Jon's side, freezing, splashed with blood, horrified at what she had seen, knowing, knowing it was over. They had been butchered, they had barely been able to fight back, and for every wight they had killed, they had risen again at the Others hand.

Everyone had fallen.

Brienne who had jumped in front of Pod, only for Pod to be slaughtered two seconds later. Sam sobbing over Gilly and Little Sam's body, only to be struck down in his mourning. Arya, who she hadn't even seen die, but had seen her, neck snapped, lying in the snow, Bran next to her, covered in blood, arms wide like an eagle, wings clipped. All dead, all gone.

And then they had come for them.

She had been shaking in those last moments, she didn't want to die, and yet she had asked for it, asked for Jon to end things, rather than let them, she would not let them have that victory.

She had thought something similar in Kings Landing before, about going to the highest balcony of the Red Keep, jumping off, spreading her arms, letting the wind take her, in flight, like the little bird they called her. It wasn't that she'd craved death (though she had craved an end to it all when she had been trapped there, the gilded cage, many, many times), but she had almost wanted to rob them of her death she had seen coming so often, had wanted to take away the satisfaction.

The same here, as she had asked Jon.

"I'll see you wherever we go, and I'll see you soon" That was what she had said, and that was what she had meant, she would see Jon soon. She may have stopped praying, may have given up on the Gods, but she still believed in them in some ways, believed there must be something after, that she would see Jon again, she had to, there was no other alternative for her.

Gods or no gods, there had to be a way back to Jon, in this life or the next.

Jon had become almost her whole world, when he had taken the North back, liberated her home, taken it back from the people who had stolen it from her family, and put the Stark flag back on the wall. Then he had become a hero in her eyes, her hero.

Littlefinger had ridden North with her, learning of Jon's liberation, had decided to then take it back for her, for him. Of course, she had turned on him immediately, using the tricks he taught her, her mentor dead in months, she would never have turned on Jon, never would. When they declared him King in the North she had been smiling by his side, when he had overseen preparations and the rebuilding, she had supported him steadfast, when Arya and Bran had returned, she had embraced them with joy, the pack rebuilding.

She had always stood by Jon's side, even to the death.

The last year of her life there had been the best in memory. Two points of her life had been filled with joy, her childhood, before she had longed for the South, for a poison chalice she hadn't realised was dripping with venom, and this past year, free of the gilded cage of the South, free of the Capitol that had seen her life ruined, heart ripped out and crushed, back home, in the North with the snow at her feet, Jon at her side and the pack rebuilt.

But now she had left it again.

Had her death caused this? Was this hell? What wrong doings had seen her damned like this? She'd never killed, stolen, hurt. She'd lied liberally but was that enough to damn her? Had her scheming and learnings under Cersei, Littlefinger seen to her damnation? It seemed unfair, when she had lived a life so full of suffering, that she'd be suffering beyond said life.

How was that fair? But then, the Gods hardly were.

Still, she couldn't believe they could be so unjust.

'Praying for the Gods to have mercy on us all? The Gods have no mercy, that's why they're Gods'

Cersei had said that to her, mockingly, sneeringly, buy she had been right. Sansa thought of her, the Queen, sitting on the rubble in the South, holding her Throne against the Dragon Queen, the two so caught up in petty squabbles they hadn't even looked North. It would be their ruin, now the Others would march South and run over the continent.

No, the Gods weren't fair or just.

"Sansa" She could hear her name then, over the roar in her ears, over the panic, something penetrating through, a voice ... Jon's voice, she realised, calling to her, bringing her back.

Just like he always did, had many times before, in the dark, in the night, nightmares driving her mad, that only Jon could save her from…

She was in bed, home, but not safe. Tossing and turning, legs tangled in the blanket, sobbing, "No" She screamed, "No" Trying to fight off invisible hands, the invisible clutch at her throat, and yet they just kept coming, hands, eyes, glares, they wouldn't stop, and they wanted to kill her.

But then someone was shaking her, pulling her up, cradling her head, hugging her tight ... Jon. "It's alright Sansa" He promised, having shaken her from her nightmare, "It's alright"

And it was when she was with Jon, it was alright.

He could bring her back, and he did now, shaking her shoulders again, coming to stand in front of her, blocking her vision of that damned City, and that was what did it, as her vision focused on Jon, Jon.

"It's alright" He promised, even though he couldn't, things decidedly weren't alright, she had no idea what had happened, how were they here? And where were they? Kings Landing yes, but how? How? The how was key, even as she shook with fear.

She tried to recall her last moments, when she had asked for death, preferring Jon's hand to strike her down rather than the Others, rather than their unnatural death, their final victory over her. She trusted Jon more than anyone, let he do it, he'd make it quick, he'd make it be over, he'd make it be alright.

His sword had thrust into her chest, the pain had been so brief, fleeting, it had been relief, a deep relief that if she had to go, this was how, looking into Jon's eyes, meeting her end on her terms.

No one had robbed her of that, as she had been robbed of so many things.

So many times, had she imagined her death, often when stood on one of those balconies, on one foot, almost ready to take flight. Imagined them, one by one. At Joffrey's hand, before he had choked to death and she had smiled (perhaps that was why she'd been damned?), at Cersei's, but she had only learned from the Mad Queen, not perished by her. At Littlefingers, in the Vale, but had left a victim, and sent them back the head of her victimiser (and had basically ruled it in the end).

'Many wronged you, and now they are dead' Who had said that to her? Brienne? Whoever it had been, they had been right.

And so, when she had thought death was near, she'd dodged it each time, but this time she hadn't been able to, but at least it had been Jon, at least it had been quick, and then darkness, darkness.

And then Kings Landing.

"It's alright" Jon said again, his voice breaking through her mind, he pulled her close then, stroked her hair as he did when she had nightmares, and she allowed herself to pause, to relax into his hold. It wasn't alright, and Jon knew that, but for a few moments she allowed herself to think it was alright, for if Jon said it was, it usually was.

Only this time it wasn't.

It took her a few minutes to gather herself, to take a deep breath, step away from Jon and gather her scattered thoughts. She had to employ a technique she had used in Kings Landing, to bring up her wall of ice, to draw on her courtesies, to close herself off just a little, to become a little cold inside. She'd used this when they'd abused her, she'd used this when Littlefinger had tried to kiss her, she'd used this, again and again she'd shut herself off, becoming a little colder each time.

But it was what she had to do, 'I did what I had to do to survive', wasn't that the truth?

"Okay" She said, taking a step back, but keeping her eyes on Jon, she knew if she looked at the City she would crumble.

This place had tried to beat her down, it had almost succeeded, almost.

She wouldn't let it.

"We need to figure out what's happened" Now she took charge, as she had learned to do, as she had been trained to do. Jon was the leader, but sometimes she had to take charge, she had to steer things, and this felt like that instance.

Jon would take her ideas and plan, make a strategy, but right now she needed to do this, she needed to be in control, she needed to speak her ideas out loud, she needed to show she wasn't going to crumble, melt into a puddle and let this damned place take her, she needed to show she could and would survive.

'I have turned from porcelain, to ivory, to steel'

Damned right she had, and now she had to prove it, not to Jon or anyone else, but to herself.

"What do you remember?" Jon asked then and Sansa forced herself to speak, to swallow her fear, the adrenaline rushing through her veins, almost making her feel dizzy. Focus.

"You … I died" She said, her mind wanting to dwell on that moment again…

Jon's hands on his sword, the thrust of the blade into her stomach, the pain, the fear, and then the relief. Death coming for her, but on her terms.

And then here.

"And then I woke up here, minutes later" She said, biting down on her lip.

"Same for me" Jon said gruffly, shaking his head.

"We know there's magic in the world" Sansa offered, trying to find some answer to this. What had Littlefinger taught her?

'Don't be slow to learn, to consider every possible scenario'

This was that situation, and when she considered every possible scenario, only two made sense.

Either they were dead, or magic had stepped in, or the Gods, if either was separate from the other, she said as much to Jon.

"Aye" She wasn't surprised Jon was so accepting of that idea, magic, he had risen himself after all, could it be impossible to believe he had again, and her along with him?

"What happened last time?" Sansa asked a touch nervously, she knew Jon didn't like to talk about his time at the Wall, the betrayal, he'd told her the story of course, once, but only once.

"Similar" He said, clearly getting over his aversion with it being so relevant to their circumstances, "Death, darkness, and then I was awake, but in the same place, I'd just been moved"

Sansa nodded, "Well this is not the same place" She shivered then and felt Jon's comforting hand on her arm. This was as far from Winterfell as they could possibly be, miles in reality, millions more in custom and belief. Once she had dreamed of the South, now she knew it for what it was, and wanted nothing more than to feel snow underfoot again, to be in the North, home.

"No" Jon said, and she saw the disgust on his face, no Jon was not made for the South either. They had no honour here, no sense of justice, and that was despicable to any Northerner, particularly one as honourable and true as Jon.

Just like their Father, many had said Jon looked more like their Father than any of his trueborn sons, something that had annoyed her Mother no end, mainly because it was true. He was also the most like Father in many ways, but different where he needed to be.

'You need to be smarter than Robb, smarter than Father'

He was, he had to be, and Sansa would make sure of it, to keep them together and safe, she'd do anything.

"So, we're in Kings Landing?" Jon asked, snapping her out of her thoughts, and she nodded, she realised then Jon had never even been South of the Neck, she was the expert here, to her disdain.

"Yes" Sansa said, glancing past Jon to the City, the bile near rising in her throat again, forcing her to look away lest she faint, or scream, or sob, or all three. "This wretched place"

"Forgetting the how for the moment" Jon said then, offering her a tight smile, "We need to know who's nearby, how much danger we're in" She nodded then, Sansa had been so consumed with fear at being in the City, she hadn't thought what could be inside the very building they were in.

She wasn't sure what building this was, it could be any, but she knew they were high up, and it was nice, ornate, rich, this was no slum or common house. Her adrenaline shot up again and she grabbed for Jon. Forget the City for a moment (which was hard to do), who could be outside?

Jon took her hand then, sliding his fingers through hers, clutching tight, he gave it a squeeze before releasing her, pushing her behind him, his hand to his sword, Sansa felt sick to her stomach, her hands shaking as she reached forward to grip Jon's tunic from behind, to hold onto him, hold him close.

This City had ripped so much away from her, she wouldn't let it take anything else.

"Do we just go outside?" She whispered then, unsure why she was, but feeling a need to, who knew what lurked outside?

"We can't hide in here forever" Oh Jon, brave Jon, she wished she had his bravery, she tried to draw on it now.

She managed a nod, a tiny one, and just for herself, and then Jon was walking forward, hand on sword, she behind him, trembling.

Sansa knew she must look pathetic, like a lost kitten, but she didn't care. This was literally her nightmare, it didn't matter how far she'd come, not when here, it stripped it all away, and her resentment or anger didn't outweigh her fear.

"It'll be alright" Jon offered again, and she managed another nod as he opened the door.

It would be alright; Jon would make sure of it.

The door opened with a creak.

He winced at the sound. Stealth was the goal here, to creep about, get the lay of the land and retreat. He had Sansa to protect, himself to guard for her, for them, they couldn't get caught, couldn't draw attention, not until they knew what was going on.

Though, how the hell were they supposed to do that?

Even if he ignored the how, or why, he didn't even know where to start. He knew this must be intervention, magic or the Gods, or both (or perhaps they were the same), but how did that give them answers or guide them? In short it didn't, so he would have to, and he would, for Sansa.

With a breath he walked forward, Sansa at his back, clutching him. Fear fluttered in his belly but he shoved it down, he couldn't be scared, not now, his hand gripped the pommel of his sword, and he checked for his dagger at his hip. Any fight would be hard, keeping Sansa back, and safe, but he knew he was a good fighter, and they could hardly stay in the room for the rest of their days.

Another breath, deeper, and then he nodded, more to himself than Sansa, before pushing forward, out into the (thankfully) empty corridor.

A small sigh of relief but he didn't relax, nor stand down, sword still close, still silent as he crept down the corridor, a pause before he turned the corner.

"Ready?" He spoke in a whisper and Sansa, poor Sansa, who looked utterly terrified, offered only a nod.

He couldn't imagine what she was feeling, back here after so long, with what she'd endured here. He felt a flash of anger in him, a desire to hurt those who'd hurt her … perhaps here he'd get his chance? Regardless, he knew how scared she was, how she seemed to revert to her post-nightmare self, gone the bold, confident woman that commanded the halls of Winterfell, though Jon knew she was still there, just frightened.

He wished he could offer her some comfort, but he had to stay focused, and right now it was more important to protect Sansa than soothe her.

Protect Sansa, his lives mantra, then and now.

And so, he turned the corner, hand on his sword, ready to strike at any moment.

As soon as he turned, he saw someone, a guard spring to his feet, looking a little sheepish. Jon went for his sword but paused, sensing no threat. Even as Sansa gripped his tunic harder, he ignored her for the moment, especially as the guard backed up three paces and bowed his head.

"I'm sorry" The guard stumbled, and Jon raised an eyebrow, no one was this deferential to him, not here, not in this ugly place, no one here would even know who he was.

What was this?

There was something like a creeping sensation up his neck, cold and shivery, something worrying, a realisation perhaps, a realisation that terrified him, especially when he took a good look at the guard, and especially with what he said next.

"I'm sorry your Grace I wasn't sleeping at post" The guard said hurriedly, he glanced around Jon then at Sansa, wide eyed, confused, just as he was, though something worrying was dawning on him … that creeping feeling, "I promise not to tell your Father about this chit, I promise" He said with a nervous nod, bowing his head again, "Your Grace"

Jon didn't speak, not as the realisation hit him, as Sansa's nails dug into his back, as he looked at the guard, head bowed, chin near touching his armour, said armour that was embossed with the ruling houses symbol, the royal houses symbol.

He realised they'd been asking the wrong questions. As he looked at the Targaryen sigil embossed on the guard's armour, he realised they didn't need to know how or why they'd ended up here, at least not yet, but they needed to know something far more important… though Jon was already getting a worrying sense of the answer.

They needed to know when they were.

soooo thoughts?

can I get an AHHHHHHHH?

OMG

hem hem, anywho I do hope you enjoyed! this story will include A LOT of twists (y'all know I love them!), and so this is the first of many!

do let me know your thoughts, I love to hear them! fav/follow so I know you want more!

speak soon