#jonsacountdown

[brit-sheff-blog]

No matter what happens. No matter where I am or where you are, forever and always, I am yours and yours only.

[jonsanshiph]

[fedonciadale]

At the weirwood tree

Inspired by the trailer and Sansa’s walk away from the weirwood tree. Wirtten for @jonsa-countdown ! Day 8 - Free choice, also on AO3.

Jon found his sister at the weirwood. Sansa had seemed collected and cool at the meeting. Like Lord Manderly she had argued against his leaving for Dragonstone, but while the portly lord had become rather heated, Sansa had reined herself in. The only sign of agitation Jon had seen had been the blood in her cheeks. After the meeting Davos had talked with him about preparations and by the time he had finished, Jon had been desperate to look for Sansa. He knew she was angry with him.

Although, how I can make her understand when I can’t tell her the truth? Still he doggedly looked for her. Her red hair stood out against the background of the weirwood. I should have known to look in the godswood.

When he reached Sansa, she stood at the tree and leaned against it, her forehead touching a branch with snow, as if she wanted to cool it. She opened her eyes, when he arrived, and he thought he saw her lashes glistening. If she had been crying or if some of the occasional snowflakes had touched her, he could not say. The familiar longing to just take her in his arms, and maybe kiss her lashes raised its head and Jon stamped rigorously on the snake in his heart.

“You promised to protect me,” Sansa said. “How will you protect me, when you are not here?”

Her voice still held a hint of anger, but it was tinged with more sadness than Jon thought he could bear.

“I will come back.”, he said. I protect you from myself. I can’t trust myself when you are so close to me.

“Father wanted to return to Winterfell, he never came back. My mother wrote Bran that she would return, I found her letters in the library. Robb wanted to return. It feels like I am the only Stark that ever came back from the South.”

Jon’s heart ached.

“I’m not a Stark,” he said, trying to make a joke of it.

Sansa’s eyes flashed with anger.

“How many times do I have to tell you? You are to me,” she said.

“Still, in the eyes of the world I am the bastard King Snow. It might help to avoid the ill luck.” Jon tried again to give their conversation a lighter note.

Sansa sighed and rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything.

“I want our bannermen to protect you and Winterfell. None of them wants to venture south and you know I can’t send Davos. We can’t risk this Dragon Queen to be offended because of his low birth. We know nothing about her,” Jon tried to reason with her.

“Don’t repeat your tedious arguments, Jon,” Sansa said. “I don’t care about the Dragon Queen. Good Queen Alysanne was the only Targaryen who did anything for the North, and that was centuries ago. This queen’s father killed our grandfather and uncle. Her brother raped our aunt Lyanna. Nothing good can come of it.”

“We’ve never needed dragonglass or dragons before.” Jon said.

“I’ve already conceded that point to you.” Sansa quipped and Jon thought he could see the shadow of a smile on her lips. “I still think, you should send someone else.”

“I could always send our trusted servant and ally, Lord Baelish Littlefinger,” Jon quipped. They both laughed at that until their laughter was killed by sudden silence.

Jon took Sansa’s hands in his, although he knew how dangerous that could be. His heart took up speed and he heard the blood rushing in his ears and he felt alive like he never did when Sansa was not near.

“Believe me, Sansa. I want to protect you and believe me, that I’m convinced that I can protect you and Winterfell best, when I leave. Many of the things you said are true and I will be very careful.” That was as close as he dared to touch the truth. Would she be appalled if I told her that she needs protection from her half-brother who lusts after her. He thought of that moment in the crypts when his temper had gotten the better of him. He still wanted to break Littlefinger’s neck. I can hardly blame him for wanting Sansa, so do I.

“I believe that you want to protect me, Jon, but I’m not entirely sure, you can be good at it, if you’re not here,” Sansa said. Her eyes were locked searchingly at his and Jon tried his best not to look away, even though he was afraid Sansa would look at the bottom of his soul and see his shame.

“And,” she paused for a heartbeat and then carried on obviously with reluctance. “I think, that you hold something back. I feel, that there is something you do not tell me.” Her voice sounded strangely strained and her eyes glittered. “Is that so? Is there something else? Is there something you don’t tell me?”

Jon’s was reminded of the time he had taken a hard fall from his horse and the sheer ability to breathe had him left for a seemingly everlasting moment. What to tell her?

“You have become very observant.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Sansa said.

Jon took a deep breath, he felt like he might lose his footing on this thin ice.

“It’s not safe, if we are together. You know or rather we suspect, that Littlefinger is after me. If I leave he might think, that he can turn you against me. And for that, he will strengthen your position in any way he can. If I stay, he will undermine me and that only harms us. This way, we will use his own agenda to work for us. I know, you will not turn against me, but Littlefinger does not.”

Jon felt a surge of pride. That sounded as if he had thought about a bold political move, instead of desperately trying to avoid his sister and her haunting beauty.

Sans looked at him, suspicion in her eyes, if that had indeed been his real reasoning.

“You could have told me that before the council,” she said.

“I thought, Littlefinger would not see through this, if you argued genuinely against my leaving,” Jon said.

Sansa scoffed. “You should know, that I could have played along easily.”

“Of course,” he said. “But I did not know, if I could play along, if I had known that you were not genuinely angry. Littlefinger had to see me distressed at your arguing.”

Sansa laughed and Jon could see that she had bought his reasons. “You seem to know yourself inside out. Littlefinger did indeed insinuate that you are not good at putting down people who argue against you.”

“It’s better to hear everyone out, I can’t think of everything. That’s what councils are for.”

Sansa nodded. “I told him so as well. Father always listened what people had to say.”

Jon drew a breath.

“This will work only when Littlefinger thinks, that he has a chance to lure you to his side. When I leave tomorrow, you must act aloof, as if you barely repress your anger. For now, I came to say goodbye.” He knew, that he was tempting his own resolution, but he was not strong enough to leave Sansa without being sure, she was not cross.

“O Jon,” Sansa sighed, and suddenly she moved into his arms. “You’ll go with all my good wishes and blessings.” This time, Jon was sure, that her eyes were glistening with tears.

It was so sweet to hold her in his arms, that he wanted this moment to last forever. He tried to relish in the feeling of Sansa being near, of her smell in his nose, of the sound of her breathing in his ear. All too soon, she left his arms and looked earnestly at his face.

She smiled bravely and gave him a kiss on the cheek that made him feel as if a flame had touched him.

“I still don’t like it. But I understand that reasoning. Leave Littlefinger to me. I’ll handle him and when you come back with your alliance we will find a way to endure.”

She raised a finger. “And don’t you dare to stay in the South!”

Jon’s heart was about to break when she turned to leave. She walked with confident strides and Jon looked after her, pressing his lips together to keep himself from calling her name, touching the branch of the tree, where her forehead had been, pressing it to root him, so that he would not run after her.

For a moment, he thought, that she was about to turn her head, and suddenly a coppery taste was in his mouth and he realised that he had bitten his tongue in his effort to keep silent.

Ghost found him later when it had grown almost dark, still standing at the tree, battling with himself. Jon bent down to pet his direwolf and scratched his ears. For a moment, he allowed himself to bury his face in Ghost’s fur.

“I’ll have to leave you here boy. A boat is no place for a direwolf. Look after her for me, will you?”, he said. “Protect her!”

Ghost licked his hand and pressed shortly to his side, then he trod away, trailing where Sansa had left and Jon walked slowly after him, his heart heavy.

[sansaswig-blog]

About Sansa's Hair.

I saw this post early morning:

http://valyriansword.tumblr.com/post/163190917893/jyn-erso-i-learned-a-great-deal-from-her-sansa

When I saw it I realized something that I’d like to share. Actually, the hairstyles ARE NOT the same. See how Sansa’s one has a small bun on the top of her head, while Cersei’s doesn't. If you look carefully you will realize.

Now If we go for symbolic expression we could believe this means Sansa is indeed mimicking and ‘admiring’ Cersei, but ONLY to a certain point, while she actually has her own views and personality. She only took some traits from her and discarded others, which is pretty much what her character keeps doing as she grows. Therefore claims that wants to imply Sansa will be ‘clumsy’, 'evil’ and believing 'she is smarter than she is’ like Cersei does, don’t really make sense in this context, when we yet don’t really know what is 'the thing’ that Sansa has learned from Cersei. Also let’s not forget that the person that taught her for the most part of the story was the best player in the seven kingdoms and the one that actually is pretty much aware of the game himself: Littlefinger, so no way she goes 'clumsy’. But she has also spent her formative years with the most honorable person of the seven kingdoms and is actually her daughter, so it would be really strange having her becoming 'evil’. What has she learned from Cersei then? We’ll have to wait to know. We as Jonsa shippers surely want her to learn a certain lesson about how to treat your handsome brother, I guess? Lol. A shipper can always hope… By the way, my username may be relevant here.

[zip001]

half brother

@jonsa-countdown - this is written for day 3 - childhood theme. this is my headcanon on why sansa calls jon her half brother. it is a continuation of my Jon’s first kiss one-shot. I am sorry that the writing was rushed!

Ever since that day she found him crying, little Sansa took him under her wing. No one knew - it was their secret. She put her tiny finger on his lips and breathlessly whispered not to tell anyone and that was what made it even more special (although he knew and suspected that even she knew that it was better that no one found out, especially Lady Stark and Sansa’s septa who always looked at him as if she smelled something bad).

After Sansa’s lessons and his chores, they would meet up in the Old Keep, near the broken tower, for half an hour. Jon thought she was mothering him when she tsked and clicked her teeth at the new cuts and bruises he sported, admonishing him to be more careful. She would then tend to them, cleaning them gently with her embroidered hankerchief moistened with water. And it was true what she said before - her butterfly soft kiss on his scrapes always made him feel better.

Jon knew that Robb and especially Theon would tease and scoff at Sansa mothering him, but it felt good. He still yearned for the quick kisses and hugs that Lady Catelyn gave Robb and Sansa, that he knew were never for him. He was not her child, she made sure he never forget that, but in the Old Keep, he forgot. Sometimes he would close his eyes, pretending that it was his mother taking care of him. Other times he pretended she was his sweet lady wife when he saw Lady Catelyn fussing over Father. Jon knew that he was worst than craven to imagine that.

So that was why it hurt so badly when little Sansa corrected Theon and told him in the loudest and clearest voice that Jon was not a bastard - he was her half brother. His heart clenched as he saw Lady Catelyn looked approvingly at her minature likeness while Robb was laughing at his little sister, mimicking her hands on the hips stance.

At first, Jon did not want to meet her at their hiding place. She probably would not be even there. But then he went there anyways because he wanted to cry and did not want Robb or Theon or anyone to know.

When he finally got there, he heard her cry and immediately ran to her and held her.

“You did not come,” she blubbered, her blue eyes filled with tears.

Jon kissed her forehead and whispered that he would always come for her until she stopped crying.

“Why did you call me half brother?” he finally asked, wondering if this was something Lady Catelyn told her to say or something she overheard and innocently repeated.

“You’re my brother and my other half, just like Aemon the Dragonknight and his sister, Queen Naerys.”

[mairiangel]

DAY 5 - Songs

Summary: He remembered her loving songs and how she wanted to live in one before she had gone to the South yet she came back disillusioned.

Relationship: Jon Snow & Sansa Stark

AO3 Link: x

Notes: @jonsa-countdown this is my entry for day five - songs, there is also an ao3 format if you like that one.

He was taking a walk in the gardens of the Vale when he thought he caught a glimpse of her, Jon halted his steps as his gaze shifted towards the retreating figure walking just a few steps away from him though when his eyes registered her strands of black hair spilling over her back, he had hesitated. Maybe it was just his imagination from missing his family though why he seemed to associate her to Sansa is beyond him.

 With a wrinkle of his nose, he shifted on his feet as he took one last glance at the woman before taking the opposite direction and walked towards there but the moment he turned around, he suddenly felt someone boring their gaze behind his back. Years of battle instinct had been integrated on him and this instinct told him that it was the woman who was staring at him.

 He didn’t turn around though, resuming his walk and trying hard not to make seem like he had noticed her staring. Jon was still exploring the gardens when he heard a familiar voice singing and this time, he was sure that he was not imagining it. He tried to find the source and eventually stopped walking when he was just edge on a clearing and he saw her, kneeling on the soft snow ground with eyes raptured on a pile of snow that seemed to resemble some snow fort that was still on the process of being built.

 She was singing, something sad and haunting, her voice was soft, low and was barely heard throughout the surroundings as if the song was meant for her alone without anyone finding out, he doesn’t know why—her voice was quite good, too good that it reminded him of someone he hadn’t seen for a long time now. He remembered Sansa singing in front of several guests, her voice high, excited yet still retaining some elegance as she sang with her heart out.

 Her singing was suddenly halted. “Lord Snow.” Her soft voice that he was sure he heard somewhere was heard as she said this though she still wasn’t looking at him, her gaze remained on the fort. And then she stood up and bowed her head—too low and still not letting him see her eyes. “Are you perhaps lost?”

 He didn’t say anything, gaze fleeting towards the fort and her figure—his mind surely knows what’s going on, he wanted to ask her something yet he was not sure that his assumptions were even correct as he stared at her bowed head, not really seeing anything of her features. “Snow is just fine, I’m not any lord.” Was all he said as he watched her shook her head and turned around from him as she started walking idly yet still not showing her face from him.

 “You are one, are you not?” She asked. “Like the knights in the songs.”

 Songs? His mind seemed to echo as he stared at her long flowing hair, it resembled the ink used in parchments. And then something passed through him, Sansa? His mind suddenly said. But it can’t be, as far as he knew, she wasn’t anywhere near the Vale—he didn’t even know where she is right now but the only thing he knows is that she is alive somewhere and at the end of the day, that’s all that matters to it.

 Jon doesn’t know how what to say as he stared at her back, “My half-sister likes to sing.” He found himself saying softly, he wasn’t close to Sansa yet he remembered when the times when she sang to him about Aemon and his lady love, he hoped she had lived her dream even for a brief moment yet he knew that things in the South hadn’t gone well. He prayed for her, just like how he prayed for Arya, Bran and Rickon. “She always dreamt of going to the South and marrying a prince.”

 There was a pause. “She may have realized that songs weren’t real, the South isn’t what it presented it to be.”

 “What do you mean?”

 A soft depreciative chuckle came out of her as he heard her say. “The South is cruel.” The words were soft, barely heard and like her singing—it was as if she doesn’t want to say those words to anyone else but her, he wondered if he was conversing with her or is she talking to herself.

 And then she turned around and faced him, Jon was still raptured when her pair of painstakingly familiar blue eyes met his and then he realized something. He gazed at her face, high cheekbones that reminded him of her lady mother, eyes that expressed what she thought and though her hair was as black as his, he was sure that it was her. The way she held herself and her voice, it was something that is unique to each and every one of them and he recognized it.

 It was her.

Notes: I think I’m late, it’s already july 6 in my country, oh well.

[jonsa-countdown]

This blog will be hosting a Jonsa event from July 1-16. Themed days will occur up until the final day and the premiere of Season 7. A calendar for the event will be posted soon. Make sure to like, reblog and follow to spread awareness!

[brit-sheff-blog]

Just a little something I threw together while I was bored!! Love our Jonsa moments!!