Jon Snow & Sansa Stark - Game of Thrones Fanfiction

The Chosen One (AU sorta)

"No, I won't do it." Jon shook his head and he crossed his arms firmly over his chest. "I'm not gonna believe in that stupid prophecy stuff."

Sansa rolled her eyes and she slammed the book on the wooden table they were sharing. A layer of dust flew Jon's way however and his loud sneeze echoed through the library.

For the last half an hour Sansa had been trying to convince him that he was the prince who was promised, the chosen one, the only one who could defeat the night king and his army of the death.

And for the last half an hour Jon was trying to explain that if he was the chosen one the Westeros Academy for the Young and Gifted was doomed. Because why would anyone make him the hero when there were also Robb Starks and Jaime Lannisters in this world? Why would an orphan like himself, who could only attend this academy because his Uncle Ned Stark had sponsored this library, be their destined saviour?

"Come on, Jon!" Sansa let out a deep sigh and she opened the book again on that same old wrinkled page. She had underlined some sentences and marked some others and in the margin she had written loads of unreadable things.

Jon was quite certain all of that counted as damaging school stuff, but Sansa would most likely tell him that since her father had paid for this library, these books were also a little bit from her. So, he kept his mouth shut.

"It can only be you!" Sansa pointed at the words he knew all too well right now. "You're born from death, because aunt Lyanna died giving birth to you." She made it sound like a throwaway line, but Jon closed his eyes to silence the voices in his head.

Countless of therapists had told him that his mother's death was not his fault, that he couldn't blame himself for it. But that was so much easier said than done. He knew he had only been a baby then and didn't know that his birth would kill her. But knowing and feeling were two entirely different things apparently.

"You have fire in your veins, because of the Targaryen blood you got from your father." Sansa didn't even seem to notice Jon's discomfort while she summarised the prophecy and his sad and miserable life.

Those same therapists had also told him that there was no need be afraid of the famous Targaryen curse, assuring him that if he had inherited his family's madness that had lead to his grandfather's dead he would have known by now. But not one of those therapists had ever met a Targaryen and their entire opinion was based on nothing but the stories they read in their study books. And everyone knew that not every story in a book was true.

"Are you still listening?" Sansa elbowed him and Jon furrowed his eyebrows.

"I'm not the one from the prophecy." Jon shook his head once more and he leaned back in his chair. "Your brother is a much better man than I'll ever be. Everyone says it and you know it's true." His lips formed a straight line. "And Jaime is the best sword fighter in the entire realm. If anyone can beat this night king it's him."

Sansa closed the book and stared at him. For the first time in half an hour she kept silent. She just stared at him, with those piercing blue eyes. "I know that everyone says Robb is the better man. But I'm not sure sure they're right."

Jon widened his eyes. "You're not sure?"

Sansa cocked her head. "I think they all overlook your qualities because you are very good at hiding behind my brother. You've made yourself quite comfortable in his shadow, but honestly, I don't think that's where you belong."

"You're trying to trick me into this whole chosen one thing, aren't you?" Jon rolled his eyes.

Sansa had always been a dreamer. Until she could read herself she had begged whoever was around to read her stories to her. And sometimes Jon wasn't entirely sure if she could tell fact from fiction. It was maybe one of the personality traits he liked most in her. Her faith in heroes and princes and happy endings. Her hope that even though the world seemed dark and mean and cruel, it was still worth fighting for.

"I'm not trying to trick you into anything!" Sansa raised her voice. "Can you just stop thinking so low of yourself for a second?" She reached for his hand. "You're kind. You fight for those who can't fight for themselves and you always believe in people being good until proven otherwise."

"That's not..."

Sansa didn't let him finish his sentence. "You are also never afraid to get your hands dirty and work hard. You will never ask someone else to do something you're not willing to do yourself."

Jon closed his eyes. "San..."

"And you don't want power. You don't want to be a leader or famous. You don't want to wear a crown. You just want to do what's right and good."

Even if he wanted any of that, he would never get it anyway. His was an orphan, a bastard, the result of a stupid infatuation from a married man with a young and naive girl. And everyone knew it.

"I know you're into all this hero stuff. But don't you think you've read too many stories? You're trying to make me into something I'm very clearly not." Jon spoke softly and he bent his head. "You just want me to be a hero, a knight in shining armour, a Prince Charming."

Sansa chuckled. "You think I want you to be the chosen one?" She raised her eyebrows. "Your really think I just like the thought of you fighting in the biggest war our realm has ever known? You truly believe that I'm okay with you being the only one who can kill this night king and his army?" She paused for a short moment and her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. "Jon..." She reached for his hands again and grabbed them tightly. "I like the idea of you being the chosen one just as much as you do." She moved a little closer towards him. "Because I know that prophecies never guarantee that its heroes survive the battle and I don't want you to die." She licked her red lips. "Because if I lose you..." She hesitated. "My heart will shatter and I don't think anyone will ever be able to heal it."

Jon blinked a few times and just stared at her.

Sansa Stark would be heartbroken if he died? Sansa Stark couldn't bear the thought of losing him?

"What do you mean with all that?" Jon swallowed.

"I'm in love with you, dumbass." Sansa almost screamed the words and everyone in the library turned their heads to look at her. "I love you. And I don't want you to be the chosen one. But I still think you are."

For a second Jon didn't know what to say.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that..." Sansa bent her head, but quickly Jon freed a hand and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

"No, it's okay, it's just..." He shook his head. "I love you for years already and I never thought you'd..."

Sansa pushed herself up and her soft lips kissed his. The kiss was hesitant at first, but then Jon wrapped his arms around her and he opened his mouth to let her tongue in.

He didn't care that this was a library. He didn't care that everyone was watching. He didn't care that people would frown upon their romance. He just knew one thing for sure now.

He pulled back to take a deep breath. "Damn, now I have even more reasons to not want to be that chosen one."

"Maybe you're not." Sansa kissed him again. "You know what? Let's just pretend you're not." Her mouth found his again. "Until we no longer can."

Jon smiled hoping and praying that Sansa was wrong and that they would get their happily ever after without him having to save the world first.

But Sansa was rarely wrong about anything.

And they both knew it.