Chapter Text
Sansa is scrolling through Twitter when she sees the news.
Jon Snow, 26, lead singer of the famous band The Direwolves, has punched a paparazzo. The rockstar was out and about with his friends and after having a few drinks, as can be seen in the pictures linked below, he attacked a seemingly innocent paparazzo. The altercation was broken up by his friend, and fellow band member, Robb Stark. The two men have yet to release a statement.
The article is short and the pictures are blurry but she can clearly recognize her brother and his best friend doing shots in a dingy pub in one and them heading out with some girls she has never seen in another.
She sends a quick text to Robb: are you alright? and turns her attention back to the comments under the Westeros News tweet.
Some of them are from fans showing their support, others condemn the violent action – most of them are more focused on the “mysterious” girls more than anything.
Sansa sighs.
She remembers her mother’s concerns about Jon Snow and she remembers his quick temper when he was just a boy, living next door from the Starks.
An angry kid, she recalls Catelyn saying with a sad expression on her face, life has failed him too many times.
He had been arrogant too, at times, quick in letting people know he was a skilled hockey player, overall good at sports and also very talented with a guitar.
She loses herself in the memories, Robb and Jon laughing sitting on the sofa. Jon’s mother’s, Lyanna, soft smile whenever she visited their home. Robb and Jon getting in fights at school, always trying to defend the underdogs, always ready to put bullies in their place. Jon helping Arya with her history essays. Arya giving Jon her rare, brilliant smile. Jon pushing Bran’s wheelchair around the house. Robb and Jon playing with Rickon.
Her always watching, always observing, never really partecipating in the fun, both too young and too old to relate to her siblings or Jon, too naive and too romantic to be taken seriously by the people in her household – the perfect daughter but never Stark enough.
It’s a constant in her life, being always perfect but somehow never enough.
It’s an ugly, intrusive thought and she’s taken from it when her phone dings.
Arya: have you read the news?
Sansa: yes, can you come over?
Arya: omw
When her sister arrives, she throws herself in the small girl’s arms – her way of saying it’s a bad day and she needs comfort. Arya returns her hug fiercely – her way of saying she’s there for Sansa.
They love each other, they always have but everything that happened in the past year has brought them closer.
Arya had found her in King’s Landing, bruised and scared, after she had disappeared from the public eye for months.
She had stopped calling her family, never leaving the house, turning down movie offers and planning her escape from Joffrey.
Arya was the one who came into the house she shared with her now ex-boyfriend, Joffrey Lannister, and held her while she cried, the one who packed her bags and took the photos for the police.
She was also the one who stepped into the role of manager once Sansa decided she wanted to fire Petyr Baelish.
They step away from each other and Arya pulls some scripts out of her bag to show Sansa.
“These are good, Sans, you’ll like them”, she says, sitting at the kitchen table.
“I’ll take a look at them”, Sansa says – probably not very convincingly considered the look of disbelief in her sister’s eyes.
“I will! I swear”, she insists.
“You need to get back to work or at least give out a statement for the fans, they have all been extremely patient but you’ll lose their support if they don’t hear anything from you”, the truth hurts a little but Arya is not wrong.
She is ready to get back to acting, ready to move on from her disastrous relationship. Truly.
She just needs something good, something that speaks to her.
She puts a cup of tea in front of her and Arya and takes a seat.
Sansa checks her phone, there’s a reply from Robb: I’m good. Jon isn’t.
“So”, she breaks the silence, “Jon, uh?”
Arya grimaces. “About that”, her sister is looking at her strangely, almost guiltily, “I was talking to Robb and Sam – you know, Sam Tarly? – and well, we were thinking that it would be beneficial for him to have some positive media coverage”.
“Ok?”, Sansa is hesitant, not sure where the conversation is going.
“Well, he needs to be in the media for something other than punching a paparazzo and you.. Sansa, you need to be seen hanging out with people in the industry”, a small pause then: “we think you should date”.
There’s silence. Only silence for a while.
“Are you completely insane?”, she asks – an hysterical laugh escaping her lips. “We haven’t seen each other in years and you think we should date?”
“Fake date! I meant fake dating!”
“He was just spotted out with some random girls! Who in their right mind would believe us?”
“That’s why we’re gonna wait a month or two, you’ll get to pick a role from one of the scripts I gave you and then you’re gonna go public! It’s perfect, Sans. Good publicity for the both of you and a big public fuck you to Joffrey Lannister”.
Sansa stands up and starts pacing the room.
“Jon needs our help, Sans, please”, and that is what’s keeping her from saying no.
The clear love her siblings have for the man, her memories of him making Bran laugh after the incident, her mother’s sad expression while talking about how life had failed him.
Sansa says yes.
It’s later in the evening, once Arya has left the apartment and she’s already in bed, that she receives a text.
unknown number: guess we r dating now
Sansa doesn’t respond, just adds the number to her contacts under the name Jon Snow.