Sansa

Sansa wondered how it had all gone so wrong.

They had been only been two days out of Winterfell. Two days! This was supposed to be the start of a grand adventure, like the ones Old Nan told them. Not the ones that involved swords and clashes like the boys enjoyed and Arya always clamored for. No… the sweet ones about the fair ladies who traveled to enchanted castles where the servants sang and danced as they dressed the young women that were to be their future ladies. They were traveling with the King himself, so that everything was regal and beautiful. She had been allowed to sit in the wheelhouse with her grace the Queen herself and when they paused for mid day meals the sweet and lovely Joffrey walked with her as they looked over the North that would one day be their's.

Her only regret had been that the lands of her birth held so little to show her sweet prince. She could tell he was bored by endless grasslands covered with patches of snow. No hills. No great lakes. No monuments. Nothing. She did her best to keep him entertained, asking him all sorts of questions about King's Landing and sharing things about herself but it would have been so much better if they had more to see.

It had been that walk, their second one, when things had gone to the Seven Hells.

They had been meandering near the edge of a thicket of trees when suddenly an arrow had whizzed by them, causing the prince to stumble back into her, Sansa barely managing to remain standing. They had turned to stare into the woods only to hear a cry and whip around to see that one of the royal guards sent to watch over them from a distance had been struck in the chest with the arrow. He had fallen and his companions moved to bring up their shields… only for more arrows to come from the woods, striking the other two guards, felling them. The Hound, who terrified Sansa greatly despite what Joffrey claimed about him being fiercely loyal only to him, had roared some horrid curses that should never have been uttered in the company of a lady, daring them to come at him. Sansa had heard the charge of horses and the snarls of dogs and terror had welled up in her. Joffrey had turned just as another arrow came near his head and she had grabbed onto his arm, knowing he would save her.

Joffrey… had shoved her into the mud and ran.

She had only been able to lay there, so utterly startled she'd been rendered paralyzed, as the Hound had cursed and given chase after Joffrey as he fled… leaving her alone.

Sansa had stared at the retreating form of where sweet Joffrey, dumbfounded.

The dogs had come quick, snapping and snarling at her. One had nearly grabbed onto her arm before she managed to yank it back and she had scrambled to get to her feet, looking about desperately for help…

…but instead it was the horsemen that had come.

They had hooted and hollered and roared with excitement, almost as frightening as the dogs which had darted between the legs of the horses, growling and licking their chops at the thought of sinking their teeth into her.

Then one of the riders had given a shrill whistle and the dogs had stilled.

"Run," he had said before she could feel any relief.

"W-what?" Sansa had managed to get out.

"Its not that hard of a concept," the dark haired man had told her with a dark smile. He had a fleshy face that was void of any stubble and dark eyes that held only wickedness. "I want you to run." He then had looked at his dogs. "Unless you WANT them to devour you."

Sansa had trembled.

"Fine," he had said with a dramatic rolling of his eyes. "I will give you till the count of 20. Then I am going to tell my dogs to chase you and will not call them off until they have torn you limb from limb. Can you understand that? Good. Now… 1… 2…"

Sansa had finally begun to run, the jeers and mockery of the horsemen chasing after her long before they and their dogs did.

She had been running for nearly 10 minutes, her sides burning and her lungs feeling like they were close to collapsing in on themselves. It hurt to breathe, and her eyes burned from her tears. Sansa had at first been screaming for help, hoping that someone from the royal party would hear her, that Joffrey had gone off to get help, but when all she had heard were the horsemen she had decided to save her breath and focus just on running.

Her slippers, a gift from her mother, had been torn apart by the roots and rocks so that the soles of her feet were becoming bloody, causing her to trip and stumble. A branch had at one point struck her and her head throbbed, hot sticky blood reading down the side of her face. Her legs ached fiercely, feeling like they were made of boiled potatoes.

And still… the riders came at her.

She broke through the treeline only to gasp. The land… just stopped.

A bit of grassy land, maybe ten feet long, laid before her and then nothing but the sky. She stared at it, dumbfounded, only to twist around as the horsemen galloped towards her with the dogs snarling and snapping.

Sansa backed away, glancing over her shoulder. The land dropped down about 20 feet… maybe 30. And there were no trees or bushes or the like that would break her fall. She would never survive if she leapt.

But… perhaps it would be better than…

"Oh come now!" the leader of the riders declared as he pulled his horse to a stop just on the edge of the forest, bow still in hand though string not pulled back. He idly ran his thumb along the shaft of the arrow he already had notched. "Don't even think about it. I would so hate for my fun to be cut short." And then, quick as a whip crack, he fired an arrow right between her poor torn up feet. "If I even think for a second that you are going for that edge I will shoot you in the leg and bring you down. Then I will make sure I go slowly with what I have planned. And you won't like that. Not. One. Bit."

Sansa swallowed before forcing herself to stand as tall as she could. "I… I am Sansa Stark."

"…is that supposed to mean anything to me?" the leader said as the rest of his party joined them. The dogs were still but tense, clearly waiting for the command to attack. Sansa kept darting her eyes from them to the man and then back again, wondering which one she should be most focused on. He pulled out another arrow and twirled it between his fingers.

"I… I am the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark! Lord of the North and Warden of the North!" She tried to make her voice sound strong and commanding but it came out as a rasp and by the end the word 'North' was little more than a gasp.

"Oh, you hear that Ramsay?" one hooded rider said and Sansa dimly realized it was a woman. "You should be scared now."

"Yes, I really should," the leader, Ramsay, said. "Though…" He made a great show of looking about, searching mockingly around him. "Huh. I don't see Lord Eddard Stark anywhere around. Do you?" His party chuckled at that. "Am I supposed to fear a man who isn't here? Does he have powers to strike me down where I stand?" That got the party howling with mocking laughter.

"I am traveling with the King!" she exclaimed. "I am to wed Prince Joffrey!"

"Oh, is that the little coward that ran off with piss dribbling down his legs?" Ramsay asked idly. "Yes… I am sure he cares greatly for you, seeing as he shoved you aside and left you for us the first moment there was danger. Reek! Guard our flank, would you? I bet he will be coming with a sword and shield to make us pay at any moment!"

That got more laughter.

"Now… you have led us on a merry chase but I am tired of being in this saddle." With that Ramsay slid off his mount. "And I think… its time for more games."

Sansa backed away from him.

"What did I tell you?" he warned, raising his bow and Sansa swallowed. The fall… the fall would kill her. She knew it would.

But her Septa had warned her what bandits and ruffians did to young women. They would take any they could find… and Sansa was the fairest in all the North.

"Come here," Ramsay commanded, gesturing with his arrow towards a spot near his feet. He looked at her soles, slick and sticky with blood, and smirked. "If you can't walk you can crawl like the bitch you are-"

"Let her go."

Sansa turned, eyes widening in shock. "Jon…"

Today was the day her bastard brother was supposed to depart from the party, joining with Uncle Benjen to make North towards the Wall. He had been hanging back, careful to avoid being seen by the royals, and as such Sansa hadn't seen him at all and she suddenly felt a pang of guilt that he had been ready to go without her even saying goodbye. Arya had wanted to spend more time with him and had been pouting all morning that Jon had asked to be alone. Their father had finally commanded Arya to leave him be, saying that Jon deserved his chance to gather himself before he made for the Night's Watch.

Sansa had honestly thought it was a horrible idea to send Jon to the Wall. Their father had told them that the Men of the Night's Watch were the bravest and strongest men in all the North, for they protected them all from the fierce wildlings in snow and storms that none of the Stark children could imagine. Sansa had always seen them as giants of men, with massive broad shoulders and thick limbs who wielded great swords that were twice the size of ice itself.

Jon though? He was so small. Robb was a good head taller than him and broader of shoulder. Theon too, and the Greyjoy boy always mocked Jon for being so wimpy. And he was not good with a sword, constantly stumbling about or messing up when he was trained in the yard. He wasn't brave either, preferring to stay to himself rather than join the other lads in roughhousing; he spent more time indulging Arya than joining Robb and Theon when they went out hunting or exploring.

It was why her mother hadn't fussed over him being in Winterfell. While he was a bastard none would ever think that he was a threat to Robb. No man would ever follow Jon into battle. Her mother had commented a few times that he seemed to be the best kind of bastard, one that understood his place. So… why her father would suggest that he go to the Night's Watch, she'd never understood.

Yet… seeing him now… Sansa was confused.

He was wearing only a pair of britches. And without his shirt Sansa was startled to see how… powerful… his torso was. His stomach was lined with strong muscle and his arms thick, corded with strength. Without the bulky long coats that seemed to swallow him up that he tended to wear she saw that his legs were also well defined, pulling his pants taunt, giving him a mighty stance. His shoulders weren't slumped like they normally were, as if the weight of the world was on them, revealing how broad they were, and rather than be hunched over he stood straight; that made him at least several inches taller. His curly hair was wet and slicked back, with only a single curl escaping to rest of his forehead, and that let her see his eyes far better.

And what fierce, determined eyes they were.

Ramsay merely sighed. "Ah… so we have a hero, do we? Well, I think-"

And with that he fired an arrow right at Jon's chest.

Sansa tried to scream. She truly did. But her poor abused throat finally gave up and the cry of horror that her bastard brother was going to die was reduced to little more than a wheeze.

But… that was fine.

Because the arrow struck Jon's chest before landing on the ground, splintered into ruin as if it had been shot into a castle wall.

Sansa turned to see Ramsay lower his weapon before he stared in befuddlement at his bow, as if it were the reason his shot had failed. She looked back at Jon just as there was another twang, the arrow this time going right at his eye. Jon didn't even try to dodge and Sansa watched, transfixed, as the arrow struck his pupil, the metal of the arrowhead reduced to a shapeless lump and the shaft splinters.

"Well…" Ramsay said before suddenly clapping his hands, his hounds perking up. "There! Get'em! Get'em!"

Sansa braced herself but the hounds didn't go for her. Instead they rushed towards Jon, led by one of the largest, most savage looking dogs Sansa had ever seen. It was at least a foot longer than her father's hunting hounds and had short fur that was matted with old, dried blood. Its eyes were yellow and ears clipped, so that it looked more like something spawned from the Seven Hells rather than a loving mother. It opened its jaws, revealing startling white teeth, and leapt right at Jon, going for his throat.

Jon didn't rock on his heels. Didn't fall. He didn't even flinch.

The dog suddenly let go of Jon's neck, blood gushing from his mouth as his jaw hung loose. Broken, just like his teeth.

The other hounds all paused before turning and running off, yipping and whimpering, tails between there legs. The lead beast let out pained sounds before dropping to the ground, panting hard and rubbing its head against the ground.

"What the fuck?" Ramsay said. While Sansa would never have used such horrid language, but it was a sentiment she shared. How… how had Jon-

Suddenly he was no longer standing 10 yards away and instead was right in front of one of the mounted men, grabbing one of them and ripping them from the saddle. The man screamed as he was tossed through the air before he struck a tree, his body twitching as he fell to the ground but otherwise not moving. It was so quick the horse didn't even realize that its rider had been ripped from it before Jon moved to the next man, catching his wild swing with a knife, breaking his wrist with just a twist of his hand.

Sansa watched, transfixed, as Jon moved like the wind through the leaves, taking out her pursuers. He popped from one place to another, so that dagger stabs hit nothing but air and kicks going wild, causing the men to fall out of their saddles only for Jon to strike them with punches that drove them so deeply into the earth they left shallow holes.

"You… are impressive. Very impressive." Jon turned towards Ramsay, who was looking about the carnage that was his riders. "You didn't kill any of them." He let out a long whistle at that, nudging one grimy looking one with the two of his boot. The woman reached weakly for his leg but Ramsay stomped down on her wrist, shattering it. "That… is impressive. You're strong. Fast too. I wonder how fast? Do you even know?"

He brought up his bow suddenly, twisting to fire at Sansa.

Jon's eyes glowed red and Sansa could only stare in shock as red lines shot out of them.

Ramsay's bow fell to the ground… as did his hands.

He let out a scream as he looked at the stumps that his wrists now ended in but then Jon was in front of him, slamming his open palm into his chest, sending him crashing into the forest, disappearing from view.

Her brother finally turned towards her and Sansa, so startled by what she had seen, took a step back… and found there was nothing under her foot.

She pinwheeled her arms, felt herself lurch and go over. She knew she was going to fall. No… she was falling. She was falling and she was going to die! She had survived, the riders were all dead and now she was going to die!

Sansa came to a sudden stop.

"I've got you," Jon said, cradling her in his arms. Sansa slowly looked down and saw he was standing on… nothing.

He was just hovering in the air.

"You've got me?" she managed to rasp out, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Whose got you?"

Jon merely smiled at her before lifting his head. "Come on… let's go home."

And with that they shot off into the sky, Sansa pressing her face to his shoulder, arms around his neck, and marveling that despite everything… she'd never felt so safe as in Jon's arms.

~MC~MC~MC~

Author's Notes: So… pretty much since I've begun A Song of Metal and Marvels people have asked me if I would ever do a DC version. And the funny thing is I am far more a DC guy than a Marvel Guy. I haven't seen a Marvel movie since No Way Home and that was because friends asked me to go. I've only seen Werewolf By Night for the Disney Plus stuff. I own almost no Marvel comics (I THINK I still own some Thunderbolt stuff and the trade for Renew Your Vows). Yet I have three shelves of DC comics, have seen most of the films, I am thanks to a technicality the first live action Booster Gold and Second John Constatine of the Arrowverse (LONG story), and oh yes my FIRST PUBLISHED BOOK is about Booster Gold.

But the thing is that I never wanted to start doing a DC version of A Song of Metal and Marvels because there is the risk of duplicating yourself.

I have discussed ideas with others. The idea that Jon Snow would be the Green Lantern of a potential universe. But the thing is, I was listening to the trailer music for Superman 2025 and suddenly had a vision in my head of Jon saving Sansa from Ramsay, the arrows breaking against him and suddenly Jon Snow, the Last Son of Krypton was stuck in my head and I spent the last 90 minutes writing this.

As stated in the summary, this will be a series of one-shots, with no real plan when I write more. I have ideas, but its all about having extra time and each day I need to get 2000 words done for my main 6 stories.

So enjoy this, review, and we'll see you next time!