Songs (post-canon)

54 3 0
                                    

Jon had his arms crossed over his chest while he leaned against the wall. Even though it was still winter, Winterfell felt warmer and warmer with each day that passed. It felt that warm that even Jon Snow had a smile on his face. A smile without the frown people usually associated with him.

His wife looked beautiful. Radiant. Her blue eyes gleamed like he had never seen before. Her red hair burned like a raging fire in the hearth. But it was most of all her kind smile while she looked at the little baby boy in the crib next to her chair that made her shine like the summer sun.

He knew that once upon a time she had already been like this. He remembered her sitting in that same chair, with a lyre on her knee and a song on her lips. He remembered her with a book in her lap throwing longing glances at the window and what laid beyond.

And yet those memories seemed like they were from another life. Faint. Only shadows of the memories they had once been. Before everything. Before prince Jeoffrey had visited Winterfell with his parents and had betrayed Sansa's sensitive heart. Before Jon himself had traveled north to serve the men of the Night's Watch, firmly believing that he would never bed a wife and would never father a child. Before the blood and the wars and the pain and the loss and the endless cold and creatures of the night.

With each day he saw Sansa's shining personality break through more and more, as if she had hidden herself behind layers and layers and was slowly revealing herelf once more. He loved each and every version of Sansa.

Maybe he hadn't known it once upon a time. Maybe he hadn't dare to admit it not too long ago. Maybe he hadn't realized that this strange sensation whenever he watched her was love. But it was love.

And she had chosen him. She had loved him back. She had seen that the boy she had known once, always in the shadow of his elder brother, cousin, had grown into a man. He bore the scars of everything he had endured, like she did. And just like her he was healing.

With every lullaby Sansa sang he was healing. With every story she read aloud he was healing. Every time she reached for one of her instruments or one of her scrolls he was healing.

The smile on his face brightened when she reached for her lyre and started humming. Once in a while she tried to create something herself. She searched for the right tones and for the right words and then, once she had found this right tones and right words, she started telling her story. And his story. And Robb's story. And the stories of her parents. Of her sister. Of her younger brothers. Of those she had hated. And of those she had loved.

Jon closed his eyes and he let the song embrace him. His heart sew itself back together. Especially when he stole those small moments. Moments she was not aware he was there. Moments she was showing that the little girl who survived the war was still in there. And maybe if the little girl, innocent and unaware of the cruel world out there, still lived in her, the boy he once had been, naive and full of silly dreams, still lived in him too.

Jon Snow & Sansa Stark - Game of Thrones Fanfictionحيث تعيش القصص. اكتشف الآن