Right Beside You, Near and Far—a Jon/Sansa Princess Castle AU
For @jonsa-halloween Jonsa Halloween Event 2023 Day 3: Costume.
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Things haven't been good at Stark Manor for a while now. Sansa's mother tries to hide her feelings but fails, Robb's never home, Bran locks himself in his room, and Arya and Rickon act out more than ever. Sansa herself keeps imagining a world like in the songs and fairy tales, where nobody hurts and bad people lose in the end just to forget all of it for a little while.
It's during one of her daydreams Rickon accidentally opens a hidden passage and uncovers what has to be a family secret. As Sansa touches the beautiful blue rose that still looks freshly plucked despite having spent an untold number of years stuck in an old chest, they wind up in a cold, far away place, only to immediately be accosted by a mad king. The kind boy with the huge white wolf who saves their lives turns out to be intimately familiar with King Ramsay's, or rather Lord Bolton's cruelty, hiding as the true prince and heir of the rightful Queen Lyanna, who was betrayed on her coronation day by Lord Bolton's late father and still refuses to marry his son and give him a hold on her kingdom.
They're scarcely safe before the pretender King Ramsay catches Rickon and plots to use him as bait for Jon to surrender. Sansa and Jon must risk everything by sneaking into the palace to rescue him and free Jon's mother before the worst comes to pass and the Northern Kingdom is lost forever....
As Sansa looked from the imposing medieval-ish castle that looked straight out of one of the fairy tale cartoon adaptions from when she was younger, complete with a dark cloud hanging overhead which aimed lightning strikes at the towers' spires, to the armored guards alternating between patrolling and blocking the gate, her resolve that had been carrying her so far began to wither.
Gods. If only she'd paid more attention to Rickon. If only she hadn't been busy daydreaming, then they would never have ended up here. Rickon wouldn't have found the secret passage under the stairs of their manor, Sansa wouldn't have opened the hidden chest, and touching the winter rose wouldn't have brought them here into the North (and she still didn't even know what the North was north of!). Now her baby brother was in the hands of a man Sansa had not heard a single kind thing about, and she didn't even want to imagine what was happening to him. She had to save him, come what may.
“Do you know a secret passage or-”, she tried to ask Jon. At least one of them would be familiar with the castle they'd be sneaking into.
Jon shook his head. “Far too risky. I tried once, not long after everything, and they almost caught me. No doubt some servants told the Boltons about their locations, any I know are going to either be walled shut or equally well-guarded. We will have to convince them to let us in from their own will.”
That left disguises. “Do you have any peasant—um, smallfolk clothes? Something a prince would never wear?” Not that Jon was the most conspicuous among them, though anyone looking at him and his once-beautiful and fine furred cloak would have known the truth about his identity instantly, she thought. Sansa still wore the same things she'd had on before their magical transportation, which were perfectly fine for a middle school but did not belong in any setting involving castles and kings and evil sorcery whatsoever.
“Maybe…” Jon began to go through the huge saddlebags he had put on his direwolf. They would have to leave Ghost behind for this, which Sansa felt terrible about. But if they didn't get out of this alive, at least Ghost still stood a chance.
Jon finally pulled out two shabby and scratchy-looking woolen outfits, one a light blue dress. Sansa wanted to ask why he had one to begin with, but at his awkward expression when he handed it to her, she decided it was better not to. Jon turned around so she could try to put it on—the laces were surprisingly frustrating for such a simple dress, bless the invention of zippers. By the time she put a ribbon into her hair and Jon turned back, he was almost impossible to recognize; which was exactly what they wanted.
“Any ideas?”, he asked her. “We cannot be any scullery maid or stable boy. We must give the bastard a reason to let us near your brother.”
So they had to claim they could help Ramsay with Rickon. What kind of jobs did poor people have some five-hundred years ago? Young children mostly needed to be fed and taught, something Sansa had to learn early on with three younger siblings. She was too young to act as if she was a nurse (and Rickon was too old by now to need one), or Jon a teacher. So nothing to do with food or entertainment, which left dressing them up, letting them sleep—right, that was it! “Rickon's a horrible sleeper. He always wants a lullaby, or he'll throw a tantrum. Can you sing, or play an instrument? Ramsay probably won't sing to him and will be desperate to put him to sleep, we could pretend to be traveling minstrels in search of work.”
“I can do both, actually,” Jon admitted, “but I do not carry a lute or harp around with me on the run. We will have to depend on our voices only.” For a moment, it looked as if he wanted to tell her something else, but thought better of it. Sansa wondered what he had wanted to say.
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Plan made, they found themselves in front of Ramsay on his stolen throne all too soon. Sansa jabbed Jon with her elbow when she noticed his glare. She hated the man too, of course, he'd kidnapped her brother! But if Ramsay looked Jon in the face too long, he could grow suspicious and lock them up or worse.
“The smallfolk petition Your Grace for an audience”, an exceptionally stinky guard said. Sansa had never smelled a person as disgusting as him in her life.
“Smallfolk? Have they not yet learned better by now than to bother me?!” The evil king scowled and swept his gaze over their clothes. Hot, unfamiliar shame welled up inside her when she felt his eyes linger over her chest. Sansa forced herself not to cross her arms over it or reach for Jon's hand to take comfort in it, and aimed her eyes at the floor demurely instead.
“Your Grace,” she began, choosing her words with more care than for any essay she'd ever written, terrified he would recognize her voice or face and kill them immediately, “we are a pair of traveling singers, merely looking for a gracious king or lord to entertain in exchange for some food and a safe place to lay our head.”
“Singers?” Ramsay laughed at that. “What would I ever need singers for?”
“Pardon my forwardness, Your Grace,” Jon answered, and Sansa's heart beat so fast she worried it would escape from her rib cage. “We have been told some rumors from the kitchen staff that a child has been taken in by you. We have often been asked to sing for a lord or lady's babe, to put them to sleep, and hoped to be given the same opportunity for now. A snowstorm is coming, I've heard it said, and we are most desperate to have a roof over our head, so we thought to offer our service in exchange for Your Grace's hospitality.”
“Reek? How fares our young guest?”
The smelly guard, who didn't seem to mind the insult (or just didn't want to be executed for back-talking, Sansa supposed), winced. “He still refuses to sleep, Your Grace. Whatever we do, he will not quit crying.”
“Have you tried singing?”
“No, Your Grace.”
Ramsay let out a long groan at those words. “Whatever, then. This little brat is more trouble than expected. He better be worth it in the end. Fine, let the singers try. But I will come with them, we cannot have them steal our best shot at finally catching that little Snow prince.”
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Rickon, when he saw Sansa, almost fell out of his crib trying to reach her. Sansa's heart broke into a thousand pieces when Jon returned the favor from earlier and stepped on her toe before she could hug him and give them both away. She quickly put her finger up towards her lips. Please, Rickon, for once in your life, she prayed, please, just be quiet—just for a little while…
By some miracle, the gods listened, and Rickon slowly calmed down. He still tried to touch her, though, so Sansa turned to Ramsay and asked him if she were allowed to rock the child to sleep.
Ramsay merely waved at her to carry on, so she carefully made her way to him and raised her brother from the crib. As he bounced, and stopped crying, though, Ramsay grew impatient. “What are you waiting for, the old gods to take form and sing him to sleep for you?”
“Of course not, Your Grace.” Sansa took a deep breath and recalled her mother's lullaby. She had sung it to them all, from Robb to Rickon, but not recently. “Close your eyes, come along...”
She slowly worked her way through the first verse. Hopefully, Jon remembered the lines and melody. They hadn't had more than two or three chances to practice, and everything depended on this little song.
“It's a magical thing...” Jon joined in. Oh, thank the Gods. He did.
Their voices merged and rose for the chorus, and Sansa made sure to bounce Rickon to the rhythm.
“Wherever you go, wherever you are,
I'll always be right beside you, near and far,
whenever you're sad, whenever you're blue,” Rickon slowly nodded off during their last repetition of the chorus, and Sansa ever gently placed him into the crib. It hurt to give him up again, but as long as Ramsay or a guard was awake they couldn't risk it.
“I'll always be there to comfort you.
You're an angel shining bright.
You're the magic in my life...”
Jon knelt and drew the curtains of the crib shut to maintain their illusion. Sansa turned to him with a smile, the first since she'd realized Rickon had escaped her again, and she received a gentle almost-smile in answer. It was less in the mouth, and all in the eyes, only quirking his lips slightly, but his expression was full of warmth and open in a way he hadn't been towards her before. Sansa thought it made him look impossibly more handsome than he already did.
“I'll be with you, friend of mine,
till the end of time... till the end of... time...”
For just a moment, time seemed to crawl, and Sansa nearly forgot what they were doing. Jon had come closer, and her heart fluttered oddly. Maybe, just maybe...
A loud snore startled the both of them. Ramsay or one of his guards had let it out; their lullaby had clearly overshot the mark by far.
Jon raised an eyebrow at her and jerked his head into Rickon's direction. Sansa nodded. They padded as quietly as possible back to the crib and lifted Rickon. Blessed be the gods old and new, he was still asleep, and they crept out of the room. The guards in front of the room were mostly out cold as well, and when Sansa quietly sang another line, they passed out again. Once they were far enough, they ran, ran as fast as they could, on their way to the tower where Jon's mother the Queen Lyanna was kept prisoner.
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Lyanna laid on her bed of a wooden plank and straw, heart filled with the same fury as always, when a sound she had not heard in years reached her ears. Music? Under Ramsay Snow? Had she finally gone mad from her grief and imprisonment?
A young girl sang, faintly, what sounded like a lullaby. It was sweet and lovely enough, a balm on her soul, but it was not until a boy's voice joined in that she startled with shock. Impossible. She had to be wrong. She had not heard his voice in so long, of course it could not be him.
But the voice continued, became clearer, brought back memories and feelings so tender and a grief so raw.
The raven who was her only true companion in this cell cawed when she stumbled to the window, trying to catch a glimpse of whichever scene could be the cause of it. To Lyanna's mad ears, it seemed almost hopeful.
Jon, she knew, deep in her bones, It is Jon's voice I hear. My son.
(To be continued… eventually… if I do, there'll be an AO3 link eventually, too.)
I decided to do strictly December/Winter/Christmas themed imagines and/or one-shots! I’ll be doing this for all the fandoms that I write for until January! I hope you enjoy! I’m taking requests for this theme!
Each one will be tagged with #Winter Writings and/or #BADM Winter Writings in case anyone wanted to track it!
Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader
Content: fluff, Holiday Decorations!! My favorite time of each year, as well as the time of my birthday!
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As soon as the car had stopped, it took both of them less than 10 seconds to get out of the car and make their way to the door. Their footsteps were quick yet they thundered as they bounded up the steps leading to the front porch. Before either one of them could knock, the door opened, revealing a slightly disheveled Y/N.
“It’s about damn time you two arrived. I’ve been waiting!” Without a word, Sam and Dean pushed past Y/ and drew their guns, all in one fluid motion. She followed behind them, calling their name to catch their attention but receiving nothing in return. It came to a point where she simply stopped trying, stopping at the entrance of her living room and waiting for them to calm down. Her arms crossed and her eyebrows raised, watching as they walked through the house, guns staying raised the entire time.
“I thought you said it was an emergency?” Dean’s voice called from the top of the stairs, his footsteps descending significantly slower than when he ascended.
“I did say that. But if you two would think with your heads and not your guns, you’d realize that none of us are in danger and that it’s a different type of emergency.” She couldn’t help the smug feeling she felt when their faces gave away their confusion. She only sighed and drew their attention to the piles of Christmas decorations on the floor.
“I called you to help me put up decorations. As you can see, I have a lot, and I wanted to get it done tonight. I can’t do it by myself.” While she talked, they put their guns away, sighing a mixture of relieved and slightly annoyed sighs. “I tried to tell you that on the phone, but you hung up so quickly.”
Dean sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. He raised his eyes to glance between his brother and Y/N.
“We…might as well, why we’re here. Alright. I’ll go get some beer, Sammy, you start helping her.” She rolled her eyes at the frustration and annoyance in Dean’s voice, but her own frustration soon melted when she saw Sam’s look. She had expected them both to be at least a little annoyed, but she didn’t see an ounce of annoyance on his face. He looked genuinely…excited to help her.
“Yeah. We can get started without Dean, right Y/N?” Her smile widened if that was even possible. She nodded and tried to keep her own excitement at bay. Their eyes connected across the room, both of them sporting smiles. They hadn’t realized that Dean had left until the front door shut behind him, and only then did their eyes separate.
“Um, if you don’t mind, could you put the lights up? You’re taller so it’ll be easier for you.” One hand grabbed the lights and handed them to Sam while the other hand grabbed her own set of decorations. She already had an idea of what she wanted her house to look like, now it was just a matter of executing her vision.
“How long do you think Dean’s going to take? He’s going to miss most of the decorating.” A sigh left her mouth. She didn't just call them over for help, though that was a big reason of why she called them; but she called them because they had never done this in all of their years of knowing each other. She was trying to make it a little tradition for them; a small ounce of joy in the midst of horror they experienced every day.
“Well, if he misses it...” Sam’s eyes once again found hers as he reached above her, securing the string of lights. “That's his loss.”
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I hope you enjoyed this imagine(?). This was a pretty long imagine, but I still hope you all enjoyed it!
Every once in a while I'll clean up my files and in an old writing prompt list - the original prompt being the same as the title -, I found what I believe to be the very first Jonsa thing I ever wrote: a quick drabble I cleaned up a bit and decided to share with the world. I hope you all enjoy it!
Finally, he’s gotten away. He can still feel Ygritte’s arrow in his leg, and all he wants is to return to Castle Black safely. Those last few weeks have been terrifying, and somehow there is still a bit of guilt there. Even when he remembers the old man, how quickly she’d –
That’s when he sees her.
He’s heard all the tales of the Others growing up that all of them did, him and his half-siblings and their father and their grandparents before that, mostly through the mouth of Old Nan.
None of those scary bedtime stories could have prepared him for the Night’s Queen.
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Her beauty is terrifying. Her eyes are blue as ice and their gaze is sharp as icicles, as if she means to freeze him with her stare alone. Her hair might have been red as Lady Catelyn’s and Robb’s once, but now the ice has given it a faded pink color, kissed by fire and touched by ice.
Jon is breathless in fear and awe alike.
Absurdly, he remembers the tale of the Night’s King, the thirteenth Lord Commander – a Stark, like he could never be – who took a woman with the appearance of an Other for a bride, gave their children to her family, and whose ghost supposedly haunts the Nightfort now.
The Other raises a hand to cup his face, and he shivers from more than just her inhumanly cold touch. He wonders if she will kill him.
She kisses him.
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Jon Snow, like his uncle, is declared lost Beyond-the-Wall and never returns to Castle Black.
In his stead come the Second Night’s King and his Queen, known better as the King of the Living and the Dead and the Queen of Ice that Is Kissed by Fire. They topple the Wall that would keep them apart and first kill, then raise all the once living things again, until ice consumes it all.
He tastes her kiss, and cannot bring himself to regret.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
My first true attempt at a Jon/Sansa fic(let). Technically a snippet or prologue to a longer AU, but I figured I could try and post this to gauge interest.
It's a fusion based on The Remarried Empress, a web novel adapted into a webtoon that apparently is also getting a K-Drama adaptation.
Warnings: A general warning for Joffrey being Joffrey (but even then, he's not really in the same league as his canon self - yet (?)), Margaery... definitely didn't come out of this fic as well as she could've, mentioned cheating/adultery eventually resulting in divorce, Jon and Sansa are still cousins in this AU despite messing with ASOIAF canon for my own purposes (NOT a Rhaegar Won AU, even though Jon was raised as a Targaryen (bastard))... if anyone else thinks something is missing, just send an ask, and I'll add it.
I hope you guys like it, and I'd appreciate feedback, esp if you'd like to see more of this verse.
Prompt: “You’re making snow angels at a time like this?!”
Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader
Content: good fluff, snowwww
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They could still see smoke above the trees, even as they continued running. The smell of burning wood followed their every movement to where every breath from the bitter air stung, but they would keep going. They had to keep going.
Their movements started slowing down, limbs sore from the fight they had just left and from the running they had just done. They all had different forms of motivation in their minds. Dean was dying for a beer and a bed; preferably a soft one, but a bed nonetheless. Sam wished for a warm room, complete with maybe a good cup of tea. Maybe a hot toddy after everything that had happened; yeah, definitely a hot toddy. Y/N just wanted to stop running and go to sleep; sleeping sounded so, undeniably good.
A sound of relief escaped her lips as soon as their eyes landed on the impala, the top of it covered in snow. However, the closer they came to it, the more she wanted to scream into the night sky. They had just been shit out of luck all night, and the snow that covered the car’s tires was just the icing on top.
“Oh you gotta be fu-“
“It’s fine. Let’s just…get in the car, get the heat running. Then we’ll figure everything out-Y/N? What are you doing?” Sam’s words went unnoticed by Y/N.
Upon realizing their dilemma, she had no problem letting her already shaking legs buckle, her body falling to the freezing, yet soft, snow. Without even thinking, her arms and legs spread out before moving back and forth simultaneously. Parts of her face felt colder than the rest as snowflakes landed and melted on her eyelids, cheeks, and mouth.
As her adrenaline ebbed away, leaving her body feeling exhausted and sore with every movement, she couldn’t deny the slightly relieved feeling the cold snow gave her aching limbs. Dean and Sam didn’t seem to share the same feeling of relief; that much was evident as Sam blew a quick breath out before walking to the Impala and as Dean stood over her, arms raised in exasperation.
“You’re making snow angels at a time like this?! Y/N, we just got our asses handed to us!” Her movements halted before she sat up, snow sticking to every inch of her back. It hadn’t taken long for the snow to seep through her clothes, and when it did, it left her shaking so hard to the point where her vision shook.
“I thought it was a good idea…but now, I’m regretting that decision.” She could barely get the words out with how hard her teeth chattered. Of course, at the sight of her absolutely freezing, Dean finally let a laugh slip. Y/N found herself trying to choose between getting up and running to the car or throwing as much snow as she could at Dean to wipe that stupid, yet mesmerizing, smile off of his face. Before she could choose, a hand appeared in her line of sight, outstretched to her. Without hesitation, she grabbed it and quickly stood up, trying to shake as much of the lingering snow off of her.
“I bet you’re freezing, aren’t you?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Y/N was turning around, her arms wrapped around herself. The only thing on her mind was the warm car that sat a few feet in front of her and the comfortable back seat. The backseat that was made entirely out of leather. A mischievous smile instantly found its way to her face as she turned back around, facing Dean, still walking back towards the car.
“I can’t wait to lay down in the back seat, across all that leather-“ She had barely gotten her words out before Dean quickly walked after her, mumbling profanities under his breath. His head shook quickly.
“No! No, no, no. I’ll give you…here.” In a matter of seconds, he had taken his beloved jacket off, wrapping it around her shoulders. The smell that enveloped her screamed Dean. The lingering whiskey smell coupled with the smell of leather and sandalwood drew all of her attention away from her freezing limbs. She pulled the jacket tighter around her.
Dean was caught off guard with the feeling of his heartbeat increasing in speed along with the realization that the cause behind it was the sight of her wearing his jacket. His eyes caught her actions of pulling it tighter around her body, her eyes closing momentarily at the heat it provided, and he found that he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
Maybe he didn’t want to. It was a sight that he could get used to.
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I hope you all liked this! I’m taking requests for these Winter themed writings!
I love the winter. I find it the most productive time of the year. In the summer months, and even through Autumnal ones, I gaze longingly out of the window, wanting to be out in the fresh air, soaking up the sunshine. It can be a major distraction, unless there is somewhere you can be outside and also write. The winter months…wet, cold and windy, I want to snuggle down in a warm fleece with my…
“We went through a really bad break up a month ago, but I already bought you a Christmas gift. it’s too late to return it now and I know you’d really like it so I show up to your house on Christmas Eve and present the new watch I bought to replace your old one that’s nearly falling apart and I swear I see tears in your eyes” AU
Pairing: Parker X Nichole
Disclaimer: All writing is original. Copyright 2016.
“I can’t do it anymore,” Nichole shouted.
Parker and Nichole had gotten in yet another fight where Parker threatened to leave.
“If you’re going to threaten to leave, then just leave. I can’t handle any of this anymore, it isn’t worth it. So just leave. We’re done, take your things and don’t come back,” Nichole states, tears falling down her cheeks, her black mascara following after.
“Fine! Don’t whine to me when you need help again,” Parker grumbles, storming up to their shared room and putting what she could in bags before leaving the house.
Neither wanted to see each other again, although they both missed each other dearly.
A knock on Parker’s door pulled her from her train of thought, the peacefulness of creating music broken by the sound. After a few seconds there was another knock.
Slowly Parker made her way to the door, making herself look presentable in the process, before opening the door.
“How may I help you?” Parker asks before looking at the person who stood on the other side of the door.
“I know we had this silent agreement that we wouldn’t talk with each other anymore but I bought your Christmas present before we broke up and it’s too late to return it now and I know you’ll really like it. So here,” Nichole states, holding out a wrapped box.
Parker grabbed the box and unwrapped it quickly, a sleek black box underneath the wrapping. Opening the box it took a moment for Parker to comprehend what it was. Inside the sleek black box was a brand new watch, completely metal, and uber nice compared to Parker’s current watch that is practically falling off her wrist.
Parker looks up at Nichole with tears in her eyes and closes the box, “Thank you Nichole.”
Nichole nods and smiles before reaching up and wiping away the single tear that traces a path over Parker’s cheek, “Use it well.”
