Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

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One.

The man across from her was lying. She wasn’t entirely sure what he was lying about, but she knew, without a doubt, that he was.

Sansa Stark studied him from her side of the table. He was a handsome man. She had noted that as soon as he rang the bell, promptly at two o’clock per his scheduled appointment, and she opened the door to greet him. Jon Snow was a man of the North. His hair was black, curly, and on the longer side when compared to other men’s cuts. His beard was the same color and thick, an added protection against the sharp winds outside. And his eyes were brown and yet, when he moved his head just slightly, at just the right angle, beneath the fixture that hung over the small table they sat at, Sansa thought they changed.

She didn’t publicly advertise her services. She didn’t have a neon hand hanging in her front window, announcing to everyone what she did. She survived solely on word-of-mouth by her other clients.  And her repeat clients didn’t just tell others about her. They boasted about her and what she had managed to do for them. Even the police had come to her for help on more than one case that had hit a cold patch though the department certainly never let anyone know that. Sansa Stark was the real deal. It was why the fee to have a session with her could be viewed as somewhat exorbitant.

Jon Snow was Margaery Tyrell’s across-the-hall neighbor and Margaery was one of Sansa’s most frequent customers. She was not the sort to send someone Sansa’s way who would waste her time. Every client who came to Sansa’s home needed someone with her particular skills because they had nothing else in this world which could help. But Jon Snow was lying and wasting her time. She would get paid either way, but these sessions exhausted her, mentally and physically, and she would rather actually use her gift wisely than just on someone who wanted to gawk at her and test her.

She exhaled a breath, “I’m sorry, Mr. Snow,” Sansa began. Jon had been studying the floral pattern of the tablecloth, and his eyes flew to her when she spoke. “I don’t think I’m able to help you. I’m sorry,” she apologized again.

“Okay.” The man visibly swallowed. He seemed like perhaps he wanted to argue, but he also looked like maybe he was also relieved. “I understand. I’m sure I’ll find the key eventually.”

He was keeping with the lie. He apparently had lost a key to some bank’s safe box, and he needed her to help him locate it. It wasn’t the most challenging of tasks. It was one of her most popular requests. Finding this or that. But she wasn’t getting the feeling from Jon Snow that she always got from another client who had truly lost something and was trying to find it. His so-called lost key was not why he was here and there was surprise in his strange, changing-color eyes that she had been able to detect that.

“There is no key,” Sansa informed him bluntly. “Correct?” Again, surprise flashed in his eyes. “How exactly did Margaery explain to you what I do?” She wondered.

He released his own breath “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I just didn’t know how to explain this to you. Margaery said that you deal with and help with things that are a little… out there.”

Sansa’s lips twitched in a smile. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Simplest terms possible?” Jon guessed, his own lips twitching.

Sansa got the impression from him that he didn’t give a complete smile often.

“Did you want to test me out to see if I’m a complete fake?” Jon hesitated and Sansa knew that that was exactly what he had been doing. “You would be far from the first. Even with me being on a strict referral basis.”

“My mom and I were at a county fair one year and there was a woman… she had one of those balls in the middle of a table and I saw her flick the switch that made the light in the ball come on. I wasn’t supposed to see her do that.”

Sansa’s mouth stretched into a full smile. She almost laughed. “No orbs needed for what I do.”

Jon looked at her from across the table. It was a small square table with two chairs. The only thing on it was the tablecloth. No glass ball or candles or Ouija board. Sansa was telling the truth. She didn’t need anything like that. It was another reason why people who first came to see her had the slightest seed of doubt in their mind. Television and movies had always shown something like this in the most ornate light possible. Fraudsters, too.

With Sansa’s gift, it was never a question in her family if she had it, but when it would reveal itself. It ran in the Whent blood on her mother’s side and only affected the oldest born daughter. (Which was something that still infuriated her younger sister, Arya, to this day.) Her mother, Catelyn, had had it and she had gotten it from her mother, Minisa. And Grandma Minisa had gotten it from her aunt because her own mother had been the second born. And on and on it went throughout the Whent tree for as long as anyone could remember. It never touched the sons. If Sansa had a daughter someday, without question, it would be passed to her.

“And what if I only have boys?” A much younger Sansa asked her mother.

“Well, then it will wait until one of your brothers or sister has a girl,” Catelyn smiled. “That’s how it works and that’s how it will always work.”

It would also fade with age. No one knew the exact age a woman with Whent blood was when it began to fade. They only knew that it would. Grandma Minisa had lost her ability completely. Catelyn’s had begun to fade about four years earlier. She still had it, but it was much weaker now and being able to communicate with anyone from the other side hadn’t happened for quite a while. In her mid-twenties, Sansa’s gift was stronger than ever. They assumed she had at least twenty more years. She still woke up in the morning and had at least one presence standing at the foot of her bed, wondering if she could help with something they had left unfinished on this side. She also could take one look at someone and knew that they were lying.

(That was one part of her gift that she wished she would never lose.)

“Margaery couldn’t say enough good things about you,” Jon let her know. “This is just hard for me to believe.”

Sansa nodded. “I understand.” It was unbelievable. Even to those in her family, sometimes, they had a hard time truly believing. When she was a young girl and the gift hadn’t blossomed in her yet, she had a hard time believing and understanding what was coming her way.

“But it can’t hurt,” Jon added – more to himself than to her. He looked at her and sat straight in his chair. “How does this work? Do I tell you exactly what I need?”

Sansa sat up as well, leaning into the table. She didn’t say anything. She stretched her arm and held out her hand, palm up on the table. Jon paused for just a second before he reached his hand out, too. He placed it over hers, palm to palm, and Sansa closed her eyes.

Within a second, she saw. It came to her in a great rush. A wind that wasn’t there howled in her ears for a moment before it fell very quiet again. There was a woman. Jon’s mother. She didn’t doubt it. She felt the bond between mother and son. She had the same black curly hair. She could feel the warmth and the love between them. But then, she saw something else. A man came to her. An older man with hair so blonde, it was almost white. He put an arm around the woman and they both disappeared and Jon was standing all alone.

Sansa’s eyes opened and Jon was staring at her, waiting. “I’m so sorry about your mother,” she said. Jon’s body tensed at her words, clearly wondering what she had seen. “I’ve had more than one person, who had a family member following that man, come and speak with me.”

Somehow, Jon’s body tensed even more at her words. She could see it in his eyes now. He believed her and he believed all of this. Within a second. She said exactly what she needed to say to him so he could believe in her.

It was one of the largest stories to hit Westeros in years. A cult leader led his dozens of followers to mass suicide, the building the “church” had been occupying set on fire with everyone locked inside. Family of those cult members had been referred to Sansa through others, and they had come to her, hoping she would be able to provide closure. It was all so horrific. Sansa had been able to reach some of those who passed on; the ones who wanted to be reached. Through her, they were able to tell their family how sorry they were. But others she tried to contact, they were still under Rhaegar Targaryen’s spell – even in death.

Jon’s mother was one of them. But Sansa couldn’t explain that to him. He wouldn’t understand. People came to her, expecting certain things and practically demanding she do what they want – none being able to grasp just what her gift was capable of doing. She could only do what the other side allowed her to do.

“Are you able to speak with her?” Jon asked, leaning further into the table. His palm was still over hers and he left it there.

Sansa opened her mouth to tell him that she couldn’t. Rhaegar was still at his mother’s side and there would be no reaching her until Sansa no longer saw the man. But she couldn’t get the words out. Jon’s body was aching and it was causing him such an internal pain, Sansa was able to feel it for herself. She couldn’t tell this man that his mother was still lost to him. She thrived on complete honesty with her clients. She could only do so much. But Jon’s pain made her own chest begin to ache.

“I can try,” she offered. “Her name was Lyanna?”

Jon visibly swallowed again and was hardly able to give his head a single nod. “Yes,” he answered hoarsely.

Sansa nodded and closed her eyes. She didn’t speak out loud. Movies and television – and the fakers – all thought that saying the person’s name out loud to the room was what had to be done in order to commune with someone from that side. But to those who truly had the gift, their minds were all that was needed. A clear mind and clear mental voice. She accidentally contacted Grandpa Rickard Stark when she was ten years old by doing just that. It had been the man’s birthday, the first since his death and Ned, Sansa’s father, had been missing his father that day. All Sansa had done was, silently to herself, wish her grandpa a happy birthday. Grandpa Rickard suddenly appeared to her, and Ned and Rickard had a conversation for over an hour – each speaking to Sansa and she speaking to the other as they sat in the living room, she on her father’s footstool in front of his armchair.

She felt Jon’s palm on top of hers and he wasn’t moving a muscle. She wondered if he was even breathing. In front of her, there was darkness and nothing more. She spoke Lyanna’s name, but the darkness remained. She waited another moment. Sometimes, they needed an extra moment or two. Sansa knew that wasn’t the case this time, but she still wanted to try. Lyanna didn’t come. She didn’t want to come. She would know that her son wanted to speak with her for the time being, Lyanna didn’t want to speak with him.

Finally, knowing she couldn’t prolong it anymore, Sansa opened her eyes. Jon was staring right at her, waiting. She shook her head slightly.

“I’m sorry. She’s…” she paused. Should she just say it? Would he understand or would he get angry at her for her explanation? Her dog, Lady, was kept in the kitchen during sessions, but if Sansa felt unsafe and called for her, Lady wouldn’t hesitate in running to her. Lady was always protective of her and when it came to her safety, Lady was downright vicious. “She’s not ready to speak with you yet,” Sansa said as bluntly, yet gently, as she could.

Jon pulled his palm back. He didn’t say anything as he stood up. He had taken his coat off when he arrived and hung it on the back of his chair. He put it back on now. Sansa rose to her feet, keeping her eyes on him. When he moved his eyes back to her, his coat zipped, she saw nothing on his face. It was completely blank. Perhaps she had just told him something he already knew. He pulled his gloves from his pockets as well as his wallet.

“Margaery said you only take cash,” he finally said something. His voice sounded rough and he cleared his throat to ease it away.

“Yes. I used to take checks, but after someone cancelled it right before I could deposit it, I felt that cash was the easiest way and I don’t want to take credit cards because of the fees. I didn’t want to tack fees onto what my customers already paid me.” She heard herself explaining even though she knew she didn’t have to. She couldn’t seem to help herself.

She watched as he pulled out the crisp five one-hundred bills and without a word, extended them towards her. She took them and held them with both hands. She kept her eyes on him. “Thank you and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help. Others… there have been others from that man. They weren’t ready to speak to their family, either. If that helps.”

Her words got a small smirk out of him. “Not too much of anything can help right now.” His eyes settled on hers. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“Of course,” her reply was immediate.

She stopped at her desk to set the money down and then walked him to the front door. Even though it was the afternoon, she had her front porch light flipped on. It was a signal to her family or friends that if they stopped by, she was with a customer in the living room. They would know to go around and come in through the back door in the kitchen or come back at a different time. Jon stepped onto the front porch but then turned back around to face her.

“Now that I’ve seen you once, I can see you again?” Jon asked.

 “Of course,” she said again. “I passed your test?” She did her best to tease him despite the heaviness of the session. Not all sessions could be a success, she reminded herself. The whole business she was in had fickle days just like any other. Some days, the other side just didn’t feel like working and meeting her halfway. Literally.

His lips did that twitch they did. “You did. You knew her name,” he then added quietly.

Sansa wasn’t too sure what to say. He would need some time for his brain to process all of this. It had been an overcast January day with thick grey clouds hanging low over the town, but now, a weak sun was trying to push through and make itself known for the last few remaining hours of the day. A slight wind blew at his hair, and she watched as it disturbed one of the curls. He tucked it behind his ear without skipping a beat.

“The others who have come to see you, did their family members not talk to them like my mom?” He asked.

“Some did. Others, no. It seems…” she trailed herself off, not sure if she should continue, but Jon kept standing there and looking at her. She pressed herself to continue. “It seems like the closer someone was to Rhaegar’s inner circle, they’re still under his spell. Even in death. But I don’t know for certain. I just do what I do. I can’t explain everything.”

He nodded at that. “So, it won’t matter how many times we do this? She won’t talk to you until she’s ready to?”

“Or, she’ll get so annoyed with us, she’ll come talk to us just so we leave her alone.” It was a poor attempt at a joke and not exactly professional on her part, but she was both pleased and relieved when it got a lip twitch out of him.

She watched as he tugged his gloves on over his hands and then pulled out his car keys.

“I’ll call to make my next appointment,” he said.

“Goodbye, Jon,” Sansa said with a small smile, and she then remained standing in her doorway as he went down the porch steps to his car parked on the curb in front of her house. Only when he was inside the car and the engine had started did she step back inside.

She locked the door and switched off the porch light. She returned to her desk in the living room and though she saw the bills when Jon handed them to her, she still counted the hundred-dollar bills. “Lady!” She called out and sat down in her chair. She had a swinging door between the kitchen and living room. As soon as she was called, the two-year-old black, white and grey Northern Inuit pushed the door open with her head and came trotting out. She went right to Sansa, her tail sweeping back and forth and her tongue hanging from her mouth, making it look as if she was smiling. Sansa smiled and turning in her chair, she rubbed Lady behind the ears for a minute and leaned over to rest her forehead between Lady’s eyes. “Good nap?” She asked. “You were a very good girl, as always. Thank you.”

Lady’s tail wagged faster. Sansa turned back in the chair towards her desk and Lady trotted to the front window of the living room. She looked out to survey the front yard and make sure there were no cheeky squirrels running around. It wasn’t always easy to have a dog in her line of work and Sansa sometimes felt guilty that she had Lady. Dogs were more susceptible to people from the other side. Cats, too. All animals, really. Sometimes, when one popped into the house, Sansa could hear Lady whining from the other side of the swinging door. When she had night sessions, she would ask one of her siblings or mom and dad to take Lady out of the house. Mixing nighttime with the other side? Lady would be howling the whole time. For whatever reason, for some of them, their energy was stronger at night. But Sansa loved having Lady. Sansa, herself, had run into some from the other side that had truly scared her, so strong and so angry, and even though a dog wouldn’t be able to physically protect her, just the idea of having her dog with her made her feel a little better.

In the bottom drawer of her desk, she had a fireproof lockbox and Sansa picked it up now. She wore the key around her neck. Inside, she placed the 100-dollar bills from Jon. She had had a morning session, too, and even though she knew it was all in there, she counted the bills again. She planned to go to the bank tomorrow to deposit most of it in her saving account. Her goal was to work as much as she could for as long as she could before the gift was gone.

She didn’t know how much longer she had.

… 

Chapter Text

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Two.

Jon knew that Margaery would pounce on him as soon as she heard him in the hallway, wanting to know everything about his session with Sansa Stark. He wasn’t ready for that and would avoid it for as long as possible. She would demand every single detail no matter how private it might be. His across-the-hall neighbor didn’t care about something as frivolous as privacy. Jon supposed he would consider Margaery Tyrell a friend. They had lived across the hall from one another for almost six years and hung out when one or the other needed it. She had a Friendsgiving dinner every year around Thanksgiving and Jon was always her first invite. No, Jon would definitely consider Margaery a friend. No reason to act like he didn’t.

He just, simply put, wasn’t in the mood for her right now. She would ask and he didn’t know how he would answer. He had a headache, that was for certain. Sansa Stark wasn’t a fraud. That was also definite. He, like most would have, went to his appointment with the woman with a large amount of doubt. A person who could speak to someone who was dead. Yeah, right. But Margaery swore by her and got an appointment for him and Jon found himself going because he couldn’t think of a reason not to. If Sansa Stark could speak to his mom, wouldn’t he want to know? And if she couldn’t, no harm on his end that he ran into another phony. He would just be sure to tell Margaery to stop giving that woman more of her money.

Sansa Stark wasn’t a fake. At first, he hadn’t been sure. She had called him out on his lie about the key, but he tried to tell himself that maybe he was a bad liar, and it had been obvious to her. But then, she held out her hand, and he rested his palm against hers and he felt cold. Her eyes had been closed, and she hadn’t made a sound, but the room around him had definitely dropped in temperature. He hadn’t known what was going on. He only knew that something was going on. He tried to figure out how someone could control the temperature of a room without being near the thermostat. He tried to look for a switch or remote around her, but the table was bare. She had then opened her eyes and looked right at him and she apologized. She knew. She knew about the church and Rhaegar and his mom. She knew his mom’s name.

Jon left Sansa’s home with a headache and a slight daze behind his eyes. He knew he didn’t want to go home yet, but he didn’t have another destination in mind. His brain just seemed to be driving the car without much thought. His mom wasn’t ready to talk to him. Or maybe she didn’t want to talk to him. Sansa had said that the closer someone was to Rhaegar, the harder it was to reach him. And Lyanna Stark had been the definition of close to Rhaegar Targaryen. He just hadn’t thought that she would still be close to him after she died. That was such a horrible thought, his brain was having a hard time even beginning to comprehend such a thing.

But it made sense. What Sansa said made absolute sense whether he wanted to believe it or not.

His car wound up at some restaurant he had never been to before. He didn’t question it. He just pulled into a spot and turned the engine off. It was such a weird time – way too late for lunch, but even too early for senior citizens for dinner. The large red and green neon roadside sign was on, and it flashed over Jon’s windshield. Ruby’s. The name wasn’t anything special, but it was exactly the kind of place Jon needed right now. He wasn’t hungry, but he wasn’t going home yet either. It seemed like this place would be as good as any to pass some time.

Inside, it was dated in a lot of dark woods and that harvest gold color from the 1970s, but it was warm and the air smelled delicious with food. It was also understandably pretty empty. Just a handful of customers scattered throughout the dining room.

“Hi, hon.” There was a counter with a cash register right next to the door and a small woman with glasses perched at the end of her nose smiled at Jon as soon as he entered. “Just one?” She asked, taking a menu from a stack next to her.

“Yes,” Jon confirmed and reminded himself to smile politely in return. Her hair was long and grey and had no less than four pens stabbed through the knot she kept on top of her head. She was old enough to look like she should have retired from working a decade ago. But she also looked like she could still punch him square in the jaw and not lose her footing while doing it.

“You pick, hon. I’ll follow,” the woman said while still smiling.

Jon took a moment. He didn’t want to necessarily sit near other people right now. He just wanted to eat his very early-bird dinner by himself in his own space. He led them over to a booth in the corner with a window view of the front parking lot. The woman smiled and set the menu down as Jon took the time to take off his coat and gloves.

“Chelsea will be right with you, hon.”

“Thank you,” Jon gave a polite smile again as the hostess left him and he slid into the booth.

There was a white ceramic coffee cup on a matching saucer on his paper placemat, and he turned his cup over, so the waitress knew that he definitely wanted coffee. He definitely didn’t need a cup (or three) at this hour of the day. He knew he drank too much of the stuff, and his heart probably needed a break from the caffeine. Coffee and all caffeine were strictly forbidden in Church of the Dragon and when Jon broke free and was on his own for the first time in his life, he ordered himself a cup from a restaurant. As soon as he took his first sip, he knew why Rhaegar had kept his followers from drinking it. It was just too good.

“Hi, hon.” A young waitress so pregnant, Jon expected her to go into labor by the end of the meal, approached his table with a smile and a coffee pot in her hand. “I’m Chelsea and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Coffee?”

“Please,” Jon nodded. He smiled a little. ‘Hon’ seemed to be the word at Ruby’s. He liked it.

Chelsea filled the cup to the near brim with steaming coffee and then knocked her knuckles once on the table. “I’ll give you a couple of minutes to look over the menu and I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you,” Jon said as she was already turning away. Jon first took a sip from his cup and set it down again before opening the thick menu. They seemed to have a little bit of everything including breakfast served all day. He might go for that. He took time to look over everything before making a final decision.

Jon was something of a vegetarian. He did eat meat, but not often. Growing up, he had eaten so much meat, sometimes, the sight of it now made him sick to his stomach. Rhaegar was preparing all of his followers to be dragons and dragons ate meat. Everyone in the church ate nothing but meat and vegetables. Now, as an adult, out in society away from that, one of his favorite things to eat were apples. After his session with Sansa Stark earlier, he definitely wasn’t eating meat.

Chelesea returned as promised and he kept it simple. He wasn’t even really that hungry and was only there because he needed someplace to go. He ordered the grilled cheese and tomato soup combo that would come with dessert, too.

“You got it, hon,” Chelsea wrote it down on her ordering pad. “It’ll be right up.”

Jon picked up his coffee cup and held it between both hands, letting the steam swirl up into his face. He turned his head and looked out the window. When he left Sansa’s house, the sun had been trying to force its way through the grey clouds that had been hanging around. But by now, the sun had lost the battle, and the grey clouds had swept over the town again.

…

Lyanna Snow, twenty-years-old and a single mom, found the Church of the Dragon on YouTube. Baby Jon was sitting in her lap, sucking on his pacifier and he watched the first video, too, even though his brain and eyes had no idea what he was seeing. Lyanna held him warmly and securely in her arms, but all of her attention was on the man on her computer screen.

Rhaegar Targaryen was giving a sermon in his small church, and someone was recording him. He moved smoothly along the altar, his voice warm and soothing as he spoke to anyone who was listening to him. His message was simple and his church’s purpose was simple, too.  No one in the world had reached their true, full potential. They were all waiting to be the true self they were all meant to be. Someday, very soon, they will be dragons. There were dragons thousands of years ago and there will be dragons again. We will be dragons. But only the deserving. They would be the most powerful creatures in the world – but only once they reached their full potential.

It would sound ridiculous to most people. But it was exactly what Lyanna Snow needed to hear at that exact moment in her life. She and her son were living in a tiny studio apartment because it was all she could afford (barely) and she was an assistant at a veterinary office. It was a good job, but she only made minimum wage and half of it went to Jon’s daycare during the day. The rest was as stretched as it possibly could be, but there was never enough. Every day, Lyanna went through her life, not believing that this was her life. She wasn’t happy. She couldn’t give her son a happy life. And she didn’t know what to do about it.

But she stared at Rhaegar Targaryen and held her breath as she listened to him talk, not wanting to miss a single word that the man was saying to the people in the church and the people watching. He was talking to her. He was saying exactly what she both needed and wanted to hear. She was more than living paycheck to paycheck. She was more than endless work with nothing to show for it. She wanted to be the best version of herself and give her son absolutely everything. She wanted to be a dragon.

“What do we have to lose?” Lyanna asked out loud. Baby Jon turned his head and looked up at her, and she smiled at him. “I’m doing this for you,” she told him. “Everything I do, it’s for you, Jon.” If she worked herself to her true self, she would be a better woman and that would make her a better mom, and she would be able to give Jon everything. Jon didn’t know what she was saying, but he heard his mama’s voice and smiled behind his pacifier. With her lips resting to her son’s soft black curls on his head, Lyanna clicked the link for more information.

…

Lyanna watched the Church of the Dragon’s livestream every night when she wasn’t working. She poured over the packet of free information sent to her and then spent her little, precious, leftover money on Rhaegar’s writings and videos that were available behind a paywall. She even had several private one-on-one Facetime calls with Rhaegar Targaryen himself. Lyanna told the man everything about herself and her son and Rhaegar listened to every word she said, and he remembered everything she told him. Lyanna had never met a person who truly listened to her like Rhaegar Targaryen did. And he told her exactly what she needed to hear.

She was destined for more in life. She and Jon could be dragons if she believed. And Rhaegar could help Lyanna achieve that.

Two years after finding the Church of the Dragon online, Lyanna packed hers and Jon’s life up – what little they had – and she moved them from Winterfell in the North down to the Crownlands where the church was located. She needed to be physically in that church and she wanted to be closer to Rhaegar and his teachings. Lyanna was taking the first step. She and her son would be dragons, and their life would be so much better starting now.

…

He lived on the fourth floor and leaned against the wall of the elevator as it slowly made its ascent. The two elevators in this building were notoriously slow, and usually, Jon wouldn’t even bother and would take the stairs because it was faster. But driving home after dinner, Jon still felt dazed. He felt exhausted and drained and his body felt heavy. He didn’t know if he could handle something as simple as stairs.  

Now that it had been a couple of hours since he left Sansa Stark’s house and their session, he thought of all sorts of questions to ask. Did his mom say anything to Sansa? Was that how she knew that his mom didn’t want to talk to him? How did she look? If a person died a certain way in this world, did they still look like that on the other side? His mother had burned to death. Did that mean Lyanna’s body was covered in burns and scars when Sansa saw her? Or did she look young and beautiful like how Jon remembered her? He had so many questions, but did he really want the answers? Asking those questions, what would any of it do for him? It wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t bring his mom back or erase the years Jon spent, living with those people – most of whom had also been locked in that church and burned.

Sometimes, not every question needed to be answered.

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding – even the doors opened slowly – and Jon stepped from the box into the carpeted hallway. It was quiet. This building was always quiet. That was a large part of its appeal when Jon toured the place and signed the lease six years earlier. He had never lived on his own before, but he knew that it was exactly what he wanted. Peace and quiet. Most of the tenants were in the older age bracket and in fact, he and Margaery were the youngest people to live in the five-floor building.

As soon as he arrived at his door, his keys were already out, and his key was ready to slide into the lock. The door across the hall swung open.

“How was it?” Margaery Tyrell asked immediately just like he knew she would.

He didn’t answer. He unlocked the door and went into his apartment. He knew she would follow behind him and she did without hesitation. She closed and locked the door behind her and Jon turned on the lamp he had on the table next to his couch. He crossed the living room into the kitchen and took two forks from the drawer. Coming back, Margaery had made herself comfortable on the couch and he noticed that she was wearing her pajamas despite the still early evening hour as well as a sweater clearly belonging to a man.

“Ernest, again?” Jon guessed as he sat down next to her without answering her question to him. Margaery and her boyfriend, Ernest, seemed to break up every other month for one asinine reason or another, but the breakups never last that long and Jon didn’t have that much experience with dating outside of the church, he self-admitted, but breaking up and getting back together with the same person seemed exhausting.

“I couldn’t help myself. I’m only human and I’m a woman with needs,” Margaery said with a shrug. “And it’s his mouth, Jon. His wonderful, stupid mouth.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

At the restaurant, finishing his grilled cheese and tomato soup, which turned out to be pretty delicious, Jon had gotten his dessert to go. The dessert included with dinner meals were crème pies of all varieties – boasted to be made in house from scratch – and Jon had chosen a peanut butter slice. He now opened the top of the small Styrofoam container and showed Margaery the pie slice. She smiled and happily took one of the forks.

“Where’d you go?” She asked. Jon held the container closer to her so she could take the first forkful and then he took one for himself.

“Some place called Ruby’s. It was good. I needed to clear my head,” he then added.

Margaery nodded knowingly. “The first time Sansa contacted my grandmother, I left her house, feeling drunk. I could hardly walk. I don’t know how Sansa does it. I imagine it’s even more intense to her.”

Jon hadn’t thought of that, but it made sense. It might be one of the reasons why she worked on strict referrals. “Thank you for getting me in to see her,” he now said to Margaery. He took one more forkful of pie before passing her the container so she could have the rest for herself.

“Of course.” Margaery was quiet as she chewed a bite of pie and he leaned forward, taking off his boots and setting them down neatly next to the coffee table in front of the couch.

Some would walk into Jon’s apartment and think he was a minimalist. He just didn’t have that much. But Jon knew exactly what he needed and that was all he had in his apartment. He was used to living with just enough and he knew what he did and did not need. He was also more on the side of being a neat freak. Everything he owned had its rightful place. He wasn’t the sort to collapse onto the couch and kick off his shoes and wherever they landed, that’s where they stayed. Everything he did was meticulous in action even if he didn’t act like it was. Margery admitted that sometimes, it was fascinating to watch.

She wondered why he was like that. Where had he learned to be so neat and anal about it? She had once asked if he had served in the military and he had shaken his head with a slight smirk at her question. She wondered if he had grown up with strict parents. She wondered many things about her across-the-hall neighbor and friend, Jon Snow. But Margaery also knew that she would never know. Jon kept things close to his chest. He was impossible to read most times. She never knew what he was thinking. Again, it was something he must have learned when he was a child. She considered him to be one of the closest friends she had, and she knew very little about him besides the most surface-level facts.

When Jon had asked her about the medium she went to see, and talked of often, and Margaery had offered to refer him since that was the only way Sansa Stark would see him, she had been so desperate to ask him about who he wanted to contact. She held her breath, thinking she was finally going to learn something about her friend. But he had remained tight-lipped and it was too personal to pry. Margaery was as open about herself as a blooming flower, but even she knew when a question was too personal and wasn’t any of her business. She might not always act like it, but she had tact when she wanted it.

Watching Jon now, Margaery desperately wanted to ask him about his session with Sansa and if she had been able to help. She knew she could ask but also knew that Jon would never answer and it would be a waste of her breath. So, instead, she finished the rest of the slice of peanut butter pie and began telling Jon all about her workday. She did know that Jon loved hearing cubicle drama stories from her job.

…

Chapter Text

…

Three.

POP!

Sansa woke with a sharp gasp. She flew into a sitting position from a deep sleep and for one heart-racing moment, she had no idea what had happened. Lady had been sleeping, stretched across the foot of her bed, but she was awake now, too. She was standing on all fours, on the mattress, and was barking. For a second, Sansa thought that she had been the one to wake the dog, but then, she realized that Lady was barking at something else. The dog had placed herself between Sansa’s sleeping form and that something. Something at the foot of the bed.

“I’m sorry!” The young woman rushed out. “I’ve never done this before, and I didn’t know I would just pop in like that!”

Sansa shook her head while working on steadying her breathing. Her heart was still racing though. The spirit had scared her, just appearing like that. It was a new spirit. Those who had been for a long time knew better than to just pop in on her like that. Most respected Sansa’s time. They used to pop in while she was in the bathroom or kissing (or being intimate with) a boyfriend in bed, scaring her to death – and ruining every relationship she had ever tried to have. But Sansa was quick to put her foot down. They couldn’t just pop into her house whenever they were pleased to do so. They had to respect rules or else, Sansa wouldn’t talk to any of them and help their family reach them again.

“It’s alright,” Sansa finally was able to speak. She pushed the covers away from her so she could pull herself around to her knees. She wrapped her arms around Lady’s neck. She felt how tense the dog’s body was, ready to attack at any second whether it was actually something she could attack or not. “It’s alright, Lady. Everything’s alright now. We’re both alright.”

It took a few minutes for Lady to actually go from barking to snarling to being quiet again. Sansa also took those minutes to return her heart to normal.

“I’m sorry,” the young woman said again. “Others told me not to and that you would see me soon enough, but I couldn’t wait.”

Sansa shook her head again. She pulled herself from the bed. Lady jumped down, as well, and Sansa immediately began making it. “What do you need?”

“I dropped my phone and my mom needs it. She will also need the passcode so she can get into it and read my texts. She needs to read my texts so she can show the police. She thinks I ran away. I didn’t run away.”

That made Sansa pause. She looked at the spirit again. At first look, Sansa had thought that perhaps she had been in her mid-twenties when she had passed over. But now, she could see with her fully awake eyes that the girl was actually more like sixteen or seventeen. Sansa didn’t recognize her. Whoever she was and whatever had happened to her, it hadn’t been in the papers. Then again, Sansa saw plenty of spirits from the other side who had left the world and very few people noticed or cared.

“Will I have to travel far?” She asked.

If she did, she would ask Arya and their older brother, Robb, to come with her. She tried not to travel to surviving family if she could help it. Grandma Minisa and Catelyn had both done the same thing. They wouldn’t be believed, police would be called, and it would be a big mess. Most didn’t want to hear “I have a message from your deceased loved one” from a complete stranger. Sansa preferred the good old-fashioned mail. If she found the phone, she would mail it anonymously along with its code to the girl’s mother. What the mother did after that would be her decision entirely and nothing could be traced back to Sansa.

“The bathroom building at the entrance of the Lonely Hills yellow hiking trail. I… I was talking to him online. We agreed to meet in person and to go for a hike. His picture online was different…” The girl trailed off and Sansa didn’t need to hear anymore.

“We have to wait at least an hour. You’re weaker than you realize. You used most of your energy getting in here,” Sansa let her know. She left the girl in her room, who was trying to test Sansa’s words by popping out of the room again, but she couldn’t. Lady followed Sansa down the stairs and straight to the backdoor in the kitchen. “I’m sorry about all of that,” Sansa said out loud to her loyal dog. Lady simply licked Sansa on the hand to let her know that it was alright before trotting out into the backyard to take care of herself.

Sansa began preparing her morning pot of coffee and as it brewed, she went to the refrigerator for the carton of eggs. She would have to eat a big breakfast this morning and build her “strength tank” back to full. She had just woken up, but already, her body had the dull ache of exhaustion. Today, she would be absolutely drained by the end of it. The Lonely Hills were just a couple of hours’ drive from Winterfell, and it was Saturday. It was a popular spot for those in the North to go biking and hiking. There would be people around and they would wonder what Sansa was doing, crawling around on her hands and knees, searching for a phone that might not be there.

But still, she would go. It was part of her gift – the responsibility of it. Grandma Minisa and Catelyn both taught her at a young age. This gift could be seen as a blessing or a curse depending on how a person used it and the Whent women always viewed it as a blessing. They had been given this gift to help people and if they didn’t help people, it was a sin to waste what they had been given. They were special. Not everyone had the abilities they had and there was a reason they could do what they did.

She kept her coffee black this morning and she scrambled her eggs. She also toasted two slices of bread, smeared it with peanut butter and cut up banana slices on top. A very filling, good breakfast. She let Lady in again and sat down at the kitchen table. Lady drank some water and then came to curl up on Sansa’s feet underneath the table. Her laptop was near and Sansa dragged it to her, opening and waking it up. She began to look for the quickest route to the Lonely Hills yellow hiking trail. She didn’t look up when she heard the front door unlock and push open. A few seconds later, Arya came into the kitchen, her face pink from the cold outside.

“My God, it’s as cold in here as it is out there!” She exclaimed, but began taking off her outerwear layers, nonetheless. Lady pulled herself out from under the table to greet her.

Sansa was in the middle of taking a sip of coffee and she nodded. “There’s one upstairs right now,” she told her sister. “Do you have any plans today?”

Arya went to get her own mug from the cabinet and poured some coffee. She actually lived right across the street from Sansa, but she didn’t usually come here this early in the morning. She must not have any of her own coffee in her kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Arya asked as she sat down at the table. She hugged the mug with both hands, keeping it close to her body, willing the heat and steam to warm her up faster.

“Lonely Hills. There’s a cell phone somewhere out there I need to find.” Sansa set her coffee aside so she could finish the rest of her scrambled eggs before they got too cold. She could feel the strength of the girl upstairs slowly returning. Sansa needed to keep her own strength.

Arya nodded. “I can come. Robb, too?”

“I don’t know.” Sansa paused for another sip of coffee. Although Robb and Arya couldn’t help her when it came to things from the other side, she admitted that she felt better when she had her brother and sister with her on “errands” like this. Safer. Braver.

“I’ll call Robb,” Arya took it upon herself to make the final decision.

“Thanks, Arya,” Sansa gave her sister a smile.

Sansa often wondered what their family would be like if they were “normal”. Sansa’s house would be at a normal temperature and maybe she and Lady would still be upstairs, sleeping peacefully and undisturbed. Arya would still come over because she forgot to buy coffee last time she was at the store, but the two sisters would talk about “normal” stuff. Work and relationships and life. But the problem with trying to imagine things like that was Sansa couldn’t even really remember was normal was. This was all this family had known for so long and this could be considered normal for them.

(Still, it was something Sansa thought of from time to time.)

Arya smiled, too, but then a violet shiver tore through her body, and her smile was replaced with a frown. Sansa could still feel the spirit upstairs and whenever one was around, or when Sansa tried to communicate with one, the temperature always dropped.

“They’re not coming with us, are they?” Arya asked. “Because if they are, I’m going to go home and put on some long underwear.” 

…

The young woman recited her mom’s name and address to Sansa and in turn, Sansa whispered it to Robb Stark. They stood in the post office together and he wrote it carefully down on the envelope. It was probably her being overly careful, but if Sansa could get someone else to address the envelope, she did. She was always so worried that something could be tracked back to her. Her business was a sensitive one and surviving family or friends, after having lost someone, could be just as angry and hostile as someone from the other side. The last thing Sansa ever wanted to do was push boundaries or step on someone’s toes. It was all so delicate.

“Got it,” Robb finished and stood up straight from having leaned over the counter. “Good?” He held the envelope up for Sansa – and whoever might be standing next to his sister – to see the label.

“Good,” Sansa confirmed. “Thank you, Robb,” she smiled at her brother.

“You got it.” The cell phone as well as the piece of paper with the phone’s code had already been slipped inside and now, Robb sealed the envelope up tight.

“Thank you,” the young woman said as graciously as she could before she faded. And then, she was completely gone. Sansa had a feeling she was going to go back to her mother’s side.

It took another second for the air to return to normal. “Finally!” Arya exclaimed and tugged her mittens off her hands, shoving them in her coat pockets.

Sansa took the envelope and went to the window so it could be weighed by a postal worker and get the proper amount of postage. Sansa would also pay extra so it could be delivered quickly. The phone hadn’t been that hard to find between the three of them. Lonely Hills had gotten some snow in the time the young woman dropped it, but they hadn’t had to dig that deep. They had found it at the base of a tree right outside the bathroom building just as had been promised.

The trio left the post office a few minutes later. The air was biting, but the sun was shining so it seemed to help things from being too frigid.

“Okay,” Sansa smiled at her brother and sister. “You pick.”

It was their tradition. Whenever Sansa had to run one of these particular errands, Robb drove, Arya helped in the “quest” and when they were all done, Sansa treated them to a meal – wherever Robb and Arya could agree. And actually, sometimes, getting them to agree on the same restaurant was a more trying experience than running errands for a spirit.

“Breakfast!” Arya immediately answered. It was early afternoon, but doing things like this always was a good reason to get a massive stack of pancakes.

“Not this time. You chose breakfast last time. I have a taste for Mexican,” Robb said. “And don’t try to tell me to get a breakfast burrito. I don’t want that either.”

Arya’s response to that was a frown and punch in Robb’s arm. The two immediately began bickering, right there on the sidewalk, in front of the post office. Sansa didn’t interfere. This was just what the pair did. This was also normal for their family. Feeling her cell phone vibrate in her bag slung across her chest, Sansa dug it out and smiled as soon as she saw her mom’s name and picture on the lock screen.

“Hi, mom,” Sansa answered, stepping away so she could hear over her fighting siblings. Their voices were starting to get louder.

“Hi, sweetheart. Everything good?” Catelyn Stark asked, smiling when she heard her daughter smile. She had woken up that morning with one of her feelings and knew that something was happening with Sansa. It didn’t always happen. Like with her own mother, Catelyn’s abilities were fading with each passing month. But sometimes, something still had a particular burst of strength and it alerted Catelyn. When she called and Sansa told her what she, Arya, and Robb were doing that day, Catelyn felt relief that she had been able to feel that.

“Yes, it’s safe and in the mail. I paid for express so hopefully, something good for the family will be happening by the end of next week,” Sansa said. “And now Robb and Arya are fighting about food.”

“And how are you feeling?” Catelyn pressed. People would never think of how much energy doing something like this would cost a person.

“Tired,” Sansa said truthfully. She turned back to her bickering siblings. “And hungry!” She shouted that last part towards them. Arya lunged to Robb, who dodged away just in time. He spun and before Arya could fight back, he had an arm around her neck in a headlock.

“You don’t have any sessions planned tonight, do you?” Catelyn then asked. Catelyn and her own mother, Minisa, told Sansa time and time again that she needed to take care of herself. She shouldn’t push herself. They understood why she pushed herself to the brink. They, themselves, had done the same thing. Get as much done while they still could before it disappeared.

“Not tonight,” Sansa said. (It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. Thankfully, her mother wasn’t able to pick up on that over the phone.)

“Good.” Catelyn let out a relieved sigh. “Text or call me when you all three get back home and tell those two idiots that if they get arrested in Lonely Hills, your father and I are not getting them or providing bail money of any amount.”

The call ended shortly after, and Sansa turned back to her brother and sister. “I’m going to go get a cheeseburger!” She shouted over to them and then, without waiting to see what they would do, she began walking back to Robb’s car in the parking lot of the post office. Seconds later, she heard running steps and Robb stopped on one side of her and Arya on the other, both falling into step with her.

“I can go for a burger,” Robb agreed as he pulled out his car keys.

“I can get a fried egg on mine,” Arya nodded. Not exactly the breakfast food she had in mind, but she could make it work. “I’ll find a place between here and Winterfell,” she offered as she pulled out her phone to being research.

In the car, Robb started the engine and turned on the heater. He kept it parked for a moment, giving the engine time to warm up again. He looked at Sansa sitting next to him in the front passenger seat. “You okay?” He checked.

Unlike Arya, Robb had never felt jealous of what his sister, mom, and grandma could do. He was thankful it only touched the oldest daughter with Whent blood. It was constant. They were never able to take a day off. Even if they didn’t have sessions planned, they couldn’t just turn their minds off. They were tapped into something no one else could ever understand. It was mentally, emotionally and physically draining. And honestly, sometimes, it was downright scary. Robb had been present more than once when something from the other side came through and was angry. Why would he ever want to have that in his life? He was always willing to help Sansa whenever she needed it – doing things like this – but never once did he ever wish that he could do any of this himself. He thought Arya wishing she could was nothing more than naïve ignorance. They all grew up with the same grandma and mom. Arya knew just as well as he did what this did to them and what it was now doing to their sister. Who the Hell would want that for themselves?

At his question, Sansa nodded and gave a smile. “I’m okay.” But as soon as she spoke those words, a large yawn followed.

Robb wasn’t surprised that Sansa rested her head against the window and was sound asleep before he could even drive them out of the Lonely Hills and get back home.

…

Sansa admitted that she was thinking of Jon Snow.

He told her that he would contact her again for his next appointment, but Sansa doubted that he would ever make another appointment with her. Most people, when she broke the news that whoever they wanted her to contact didn’t want to talk with them, their reactions always ranged from sadness and pleading for her to try again to outright yelling and fury. But Jon hadn’t had any kind of reaction like that. He simply stood up and put on his coat. The lack of reaction of any kind from the man had stayed with Sansa.

It had rattled her.

After Robb dropped her off at home after their errand to Lonely Hills, Sansa hooked the leash onto Lady and took the dog on a long walk around their quiet neighborhood. Returning home, she gave Lady a fresh rawhide bone. The dog happily took it and trotted off to her large pillow on the living room floor. Sansa went upstairs to take a steaming hot shower. She then changed into sweatpants and a long sleeve tee shirt and let her hair air-dry. Downstairs again, in the kitchen, she fixed herself a cup of strawberry tea and sipping it, she went into the living room. She set the cup down on her table in front of the fireplace and then went to Lady. She knelt down and her dog lifted her head from her bone, smiling and panting up at Sansa.

“This might be intense,” she warned her. “Do you want to take your bone and go outside for a little bit?” She offered.

Lady stood up and Sansa smiled when the dog leaned in and gave Sansa’s face a few licks. She then picked up her rawhide and went trotting to the swinging door. She pushed it open with her head and Sansa heard her nails crossing the kitchen floor. A moment later, Sansa then heard the flap of Lady’s dog door that let her out into the backyard.

“Good girl,” Sansa whispered and rose to her feet. Sitting down at her table, she took a sip of tea and then set the cup safely aside.

She closed her eyes and cleared her mind. She didn’t expect anything to happen. When Sansa saw Lyanna Snow, Rhaegar’s strength around her had been intense. Lyanna wasn’t going to speak to her. But Sansa still wanted to try. Jon’s lack of reaction to his mom not wanting to speak to him made Sansa want to try.

She spoke the woman’s name into the darkness. There was nothing but darkness. Lyanna Snow. Sansa concentrated on the woman and the darkness surrounding her. Nothing was coming. Sansa couldn’t feel anything. There was nothing but darkness. But then, a whoosh of air so strong and so cold blew into her, it knocked her backward, her chair coming with her.

“Ow!” Sansa yelped out a cry of pain as her body hit the hardwood floor beneath her. The back of her head hit the floor. Hard. If her eyes weren’t already closed, she’d see stars in front of them.

“Stay away from Jon.”

The voice did not belong to Lyanna. It was a man’s voice, but Sansa still couldn’t see anything in the darkness. There was no spirit. Just a voice. And the voice was so hard and mean in tone, Sansa felt the fear grip her heart. She had dealt with spirits like this before. She was glad she didn’t have to go to the bathroom. More than one of these angry spirits had made her pee herself. And this might be one of the angriest voices she had ever heard.

She tried to concentrate on Lyanna’s name. Even lying on the floor, unable to move and with her skull throbbing, she did her best to ignore the voice and focus on Lyanna’s name, speaking it, urging the woman to come to her. The voice went right into her ear.

“Jon is mine. STAY AWAY FROM HIM!” The voice shouted and it vibrated the picture frames hanging on the walls.

And just as suddenly as the voice appeared, it was gone again and the darkness disappeared. Sansa’s eyes snapped open. Lady had come rushing back into the house when she heard Sansa being knocked over and her crying out and the dog was now licking her face. Sansa realized her cheeks were wet and Lady was licking the tears that had leaked from her eyes.

Sansa sat up. Her entire body was throbbing with pain as if she had just been thrown against a wall. She wrapped her arms around Lady’s neck and began crying into her dog’s fur. It had been a while since something had scared and threatened her like that.

She knew that voice. She had heard it on the news when the story broke and had remained in the news for weeks after. It was the voice of Rhaegar Targaryen.

…

Chapter Text

…

Four.

It wasn’t easy for him to put it lightly. The Church of the Dragon owned a few hundred acres of land and Jon had lived in their gated compound since he was three years old. He knew very little about the outside world. Before Rhaegar became so strict with his people, before the isolation and lockdowns, everyone was free to come and go as they pleased. Many of the adults still had their “regular” jobs (and they would hand their paychecks right over to Rhaegar) and the children still attended their public schools. It was how he had been able to go to the county fair that one year with his mom and saw the fake fortune teller.

But when Jon was eight, Rhaegar locked them all down on the compound and there was no more leaving. The outside world was a harsh and cruel place, and it was going to burn down one day. Only Rhaegar and his followers – the dragons – would survive. He still attended school, but it was the school of the church, and the lessons were all approved by Rhaegar and the other senior leaders. Jon knew writing, reading and math, but everything else, it was what the Church of the Dragon wanted their young followers to know. It was all brainwashing and propaganda and when Jon ran and managed to escape to the outside world again, he quickly saw how ill-equipped for everything he was.

It was all a lie. The world wasn’t a terrible place filled with terrible people. Yes, some things were bad and yes, some people were bad, but for the most part, everyone was just living their quiet little lives, finding joy in the mundane. Rhaegar had lied about everything. There were no dragons and there never would be. The world was not going to burn. Everything Jon had heard and taught since he was three years old was a lie.

There were a few ex-members who had seen the writing on the wall and who had left before Rhaegar implemented total lockdown in his compound and walking away had been a much easier feat. Rhaegar had told everyone that these members had died. Their sin of not believing enough in the church and in the dragons had killed them.

Jeor Mormont was one of those ex-members. He had attended Rhaegar’s church in the earlier days when it was still a church and Rhaegar was just a man who believed in honestly helping people through faith. He and his family – his wife and their son, Jorah, as well as his sister, Maege, her husband, and their daughter, Lyanna – were all members of the Church of the Dragon, as well. As time went by, Rhaegar as well as his message began to change, and Jeor got a bad feeling in his gut.

But it was too late. His family was in the man’s clutches, believing every word he said to be the absolute truth, and Jeor couldn’t save them. He thought that maybe he would be able to help them once he was outside. He left the church and Rhaegar immediately let the congregation know that Jeor Mormont was dead. Dead to them. Dead to the world. Jeor tried to get the police involved, but there wasn’t anything that could be done. The other members of Jeor’s family wanted to stay with Rhaegar, and the police couldn’t forcibly remove them. No laws had been broken. Rhaegar or anything about his church didn’t raise any red flags. He, and none of the members, had done anything to warrant forcibly removing people because of a concerned family member. And his family wouldn’t listen to him because Jeor was dead to them. So, all the man could do was wait and hope that they would leave on their own.

(When news of the members being burned alive in the locked church broke, Jeor fell to his knees, sobbing. He knew he would live the rest of his life, never forgiving himself.)

When Jon, himself, escaped, he knew he was going to go back to Winterfell. That was his home with his mom before the church and he didn’t know what he was doing or what he was going to do, but he knew that going back to Winterfell was the first answer. No one living in the compound had any money of their own. Some of the older adults still had their outside jobs – with Rhaegar’s permission – but every dime they earned was given back to the church. Jon had never had any money of his own. When he got out, it was truly with nothing but the clothes on his back. He was able to hitchhike his way back to Winterfell with a semi-truck driver.

He was clueless what to do. He didn’t know anything. He was eighteen and Westeros considered him to be an adult, and he had no one who could take him in and help him. He was also worried about Rhaegar or someone else from the church tracking him down and dragging him back. He grew his hair out long and grew a thick beard in a better attempt at hiding himself (a look he still had today) and remained vigilant in watching everyone around him. Jon found himself a homeless shelter and there, there were social workers who were able to point him in the right direction. If they thought an eighteen-year-old man who literally knew nothing about the world was strange, no one acted like it.

Meeting Jeor Mormont again had been fate. Jon couldn’t think of any other word for it. Jeor owned and operated a retirement home in Winterfell, and he was looking for help. The social worker let Jon know and Jon went for an interview. As soon as Jon saw the older man and saw that he definitely was not dead, Jon felt his knees nearly buckle. He remembered Jeor and Jeor remembered Jon. The two embraced one another tightly and Jeor hired him on the spot.

(He promised Jon that he would always have a job there as long as he wanted it and when the church burned years later and everyone within burned to death, Jeor and Jon became family because they were one of the few people left in this world who knew what the other was feeling, thinking, and going through.)

It wasn’t a glamorous job, and it didn’t pay Jon a fortune, but he loved it. He was finally on his own, making his own money, and making his own life and it was all he wanted. He tried not to think of his mom or anyone else in the church down in Crownlands. He knew that Rhaegar had told everyone that he was dead and they would believe the man. Jeor had taken time to learn it for himself, but Jon already knew that he couldn’t do anything to get his mom to leave Rhaegar. At first, Jeor wanted Jon to tell him what life was like in the compound, but his curiosity was quickly killed. He didn’t want to hear anything else after Jon started telling him things.

Jon helped with the residents. He helped lift them from their beds to their wheelchairs – and vice versa. He helped with mealtimes and bathing times. He helped the nurses with anything they needed. Jon really did love it and all of the residents loved having Jon there. He looked at them and could only hope that he got to be their age someday. Some people were so strange around old people, but Jon never understood the feeling. He loved listening to them and talking to them. They had all lived such full lives, filled with stories. Jon looked at them and was envious.

He got there at seven o’clock in the morning, his usual time, dressed in a pair of dark blue scrubs, his usual attire. There was a stockpile of scrubs in one of the storage rooms because sometimes, Jon’s job got get a little messy and he would have to change. Janet, the lead night nurse, was behind the front desk, talking with another nurse, and both smiled when they saw him come in through the front automatic doors.

“Hey, sweet cheeks,” Janet smiled. All of the nurses who worked there were married and older than Jon, but they loved flirting with him. It was one of their favorite past times. Jeor repeatedly reminded them all that Jon could slap them with sexual harassment lawsuits if they kept it up. Of course, years later, they did keep it up and Jon had learned not to mind.

“Good morning,” Jon returned the smile. “Quiet night?”

It was always a relief to show up at the building in the morning and not already have an ambulance parked outside, the paramedics rolling one of the residents out.

“So far, so good. Can you do me a favor? Before Paula gets here, can you check the second floor? Everyone hit their buttons except Perry and Minisa,” Janet let him know.

“You got it,” Jon readily agreed.

He stopped off in the staff breakroom where everyone had their own locker. He dropped off his coat, gloves, wallet, keys and phone into his locker. He had a radio that he took with him so he would be able to get hold of one of the nurses if he needed them, which he took from the top shelf. In the bowl in the middle of the table, he snatched a piece of butterscotch candy and slipped it into his pocket for later before leaving the room. Margaery was constantly complaining about her job. She was always threatening to quit – even though she wouldn’t because a good job was hard to find. So, she suffered and bitched about it. Jon never felt the need to do that with his own job despite Margaery practically demanding that he does.

The residents who lived in the rooms on the first floor needed medical care and medical supervision. The residents who lived on the second floor lived in actual private apartments. They didn’t need to constantly be checked on. They were up there in years but were still capable of taking care of themselves. But every morning and every evening, those within the apartments had a button to press that was wired down to the nurse’s front desk downstairs that let the staff know that they were alright. Everyone inside of the Winterfell Retirement Community was an early riser, and those who weren’t, the staff knew. But just about everyone would already be awake by seven o’clock and buttons should have been pressed.

“Mr. Perry?” Jon knocked on the door of Apartment 6.

“I’m alive! Leave me alone!” Mr. Perry shouted from inside his apartment almost immediately. He was probably in the kitchen – the first room in the apartment – making himself some coffee.

Jon smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Perry.”

“Shut up, Jon!”

“You didn’t press your button,” Jon reminded him.

There was a pause and then a quiet “Son of a bitch.”

Jon almost laughed. Mr. Perry was definitely a grouchy man. No way around that. The man had worked in a big-box store for over forty years and in his own words, he was just damn sick of people. He wanted to spend whatever years he had left on this earth without having to deal with people as much as he could. He tolerated Jon and Gilly, a nurse usually on the night shift, but even that was barely.

Jon kept smiling to himself as he walked down the hall to Apartment 9. Minisa Tully was perfectly healthy. She was from the Riverlands and had lived there for her entire life. She and her husband, Hoster, married young and had six children (her two oldest died as did her youngest when they were all newborns.) Three of their children survived and grew into adulthood. Minisa enjoyed her life with her husband for over fifty years, but when Hoster died, she admitted to not being the same. How could she be? Her partner through life for most of hers was suddenly gone.

Her children were scattered throughout Westeros, but Minisa knew she didn’t want to remain in the Riverlands, in hers and her husband’s big house completely alone. She decided to move to Winterfell to be closer to her oldest daughter and her family. She didn’t want to be a burden on that daughter, however, even though her daughter told her she was never a burden. Minisa bought herself an apartment in this building which she would live in for the rest of her life. Jon had a feeling she still had a long life ahead of her. Her red hair may have turned grey, and her face might have had plenty of wrinkles, but she was probably one of the healthiest residents in this whole place. He wasn’t concerned that she hadn’t hit her button yet this morning. There was probably a perfectly logical explanation for it.

“Mrs. Tully?” Jon knocked on her door. He waited a moment. He thought he heard movement on the other side, but he wasn’t too sure. “Mrs. Tully?” He knocked again. As an orderly, Jon had a ring of keys to storage rooms, staff only areas, and to these apartments. But he didn’t like entering these apartments unless he absolutely had to. He understood privacy and how sacred a person’s space could be.

He was prepared to knock again, but then he heard the turning of the knob and the undoing of the chain lock. When he saw who opened the door, his eyes widened. And the person standing in front of him had the same exact reaction to seeing him.

“You,” Jon said and immediately felt like an idiot for it.

Sansa Stark seemed to recover first, and a smile slowly stretched across her face. “Me. I didn’t know you worked here.”

“You couldn’t tell?” He asked. He then had to wonder if he had insulted her in some way. He knew her ability. She had shown that to him. He just didn’t know everything that ability entailed. In movies he had seen, it seemed like someone like Sansa could just brush against him and know every single thing there was to know about him. Gods, he hoped that wasn’t true.

If Sansa was insulted or embarrassed, it didn’t seem like it. Instead, she laughed a little. “I had no idea,” she reaffirmed.

“I was checking on Minisa Tully,” Jon then let her know. “She has a button that she has to press every morning, so we know she’s alright.”

“Oh! I’m sorry about that. I came over to see her so early this morning, I probably made her forget all about it. She’s my grandmother,” she then quickly added.

Jon had to wonder what time she had actually gotten here to see Minisa. It was just after seven. Unlike those on the first floor, in the medical rooms, there were no visiting hours for those who lived in the apartments on the second floor. Still, this seemed an unusual hour for a granddaughter to visit her grandmother.

“I just have to verify…” he trailed off, unsure of exactly how to word what he had to do.

Thankfully, Sansa seemed to read his mind. Could she read his mind? She stepped back and opened the door wider. Jon gave her a small smile as he stepped over the threshold and into the kitchen. The apartments here were four rooms – simple, but spacious. A kitchen, a living room, a bedroom and a bathroom. Minisa had decorated her apartment tastefully in warm colors of reds, blues, and silvers. She was from the Riverlands, so those colors made sense. She also had a large fishtank of freshwater fish in her living room. Sansa closed the door behind him, and she then walked past him, leading the way into the living room. Across the tan carpet, she stopped at the closed bedroom door.

“Grandma?” She knocked. “Jon Snow needs to verify you’re alive.”

“Oh!” He heard the woman exclaim from the other side of the door. “Jon, I’m sorry!” A moment later, the door was whipped open. The woman was dressed in blue jeans and an oversized grey sweater. Her long grey hair was pulled into a loose braid. “I’m alive. I forgot to hit the button.”

Jon smiled. “I’m glad to see you’re still here with us, Minisa. And I’m sorry to have come in here to check.”

“Please,” Minisa waved her hand as if brushing his words aside. “It’s honestly one of my favorite things about living here. You hear the worst stories about old people passing away and cats eating their faces for weeks before they’re found by anyone.”

“What kind of stories are you listening to?” Jon asked with a small smile.

Sansa wasn’t smiling though. She looked at her grandmother with a slight frown. “You know that would never happen, grandma,” she said because Minisa clearly needed reminding.

Minisa smiled warmly at Sansa and reached out, rubbing her upper warm comfortingly. Her hand then moved to the back of Sansa’s head and she winced just enough for Jon to immediately notice. Jon looked at the pair. He knew Sansa’s words just weren’t words that a granddaughter would say when her grandmother would say something like that. Sansa would be able to know. Perhaps Minisa would even visit Sansa as soon as it happened. And obviously, Minisa knew about what Sansa could do. Jon supposed it would be impossible to keep a gift like that to herself without the rest of her family knowing.

The oven suddenly beeped, surprising them all.

“You can take another pain pill,” Minisa told Sansa, who nodded, and she then looked to Jon. “Do you have time for a cinnamon roll, or do you have rounds to get back to?” She asked.

Jon hesitated. He was often invited to stay in someone’s room for a snack or coffee. He ate very well with this job. Jeor said it was because when he came here to work, all of the residents looked at him and felt he was too skinny. Even a diet of strict meat and vegetables in the compound could be taken away whenever Rhaegar felt like it. He would implement “punishment fasts” whenever he felt his followers were straying too far in their thoughts or actions. Jon wasn’t skinny anymore. He liked to walk or go for a run and lifting residents here every day helped him stay fit with obvious muscles in addition to being able to eat whatever he wanted whenever he wanted to. But his past physical state was one no one here had forgotten.

Sometimes, it was nice to have so many people worry about him. Truly worry about him.  

“I can stay for a little bit. Until one of the nurses calls me,” he held up his radio. “I might have to cut out early to help downstairs.”

Minisa instantly smiled. “Good.”

She moved through the living room into the kitchen, but Jon stayed where he stood. He watched as Sansa went into the bathroom. He heard the sink tap running for a moment and then another moment of quiet, which he assumed she was swallowing whatever pain pill she was taking. When she stepped from the bathroom again, she stopped suddenly. She seemed surprised that Jon was still standing there, his eyes in her direction. Jon was a little surprised, too, but more confused than anything. He had no idea why he was still standing there instead of in the kitchen with Minisa. He had no idea why he was waiting for her.

“Are you okay?” And he definitely had no idea why he asked her that. He supposed it was just being a decent human being and checking up on another human being. He didn’t need to read into it. He didn’t need to be confused. Caring about someone else was what people did.

Sansa paused before nodding her head. “I’m okay. I had a really intense session last night and I was thrown on the floor.” Jon stared at her as his mind tried to register that. “I always come to my grandma when something like that happens. I would go to my mom, but my mom would take me straight to the ER to get checked out for a concussion. Grandma Minisa can be a little more calm about it.”

“Does that happen a lot? Those… those visitors throwing you down?”

Again, she paused and visibly swallowed. “It happens more times than I like, but it’s not a common occurrence, thank goodness. It takes me a long time to recover from it. I think that’s why they do it. They know it weakens me for a bit.”

Jon looked at her and couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He had witnessed her gift – could it even be called a gift? – but he couldn’t believe how casually she spoke of things like this. It was surreal. Rhaegar would have hated her. The thought entered his mind suddenly. Rhaegar had fought so hard to prove to everyone that he was special, but he wasn’t. There was absolutely nothing special about him. What Sansa could do, she ran circles around the man and all she had to do was stand there. Rhaegar would have never let her be a dragon.

“So, your grandma and mom know what you can do?” Jon asked.

That question made her smile. “They used to do it, too.”

“What?” Jon blinked. “They…” words left him. This girl in front of him was nothing but questions. Everything she said, it never gave him an answer to anything.

“It fades with age. It’s almost completely gone for my mom. And my grandma lost her ability years ago. I’ll lose it someday, too.”

“Come on, you two,” Minisa poked her head into the living room. “Jon doesn’t have that much time and I don’t want these cinnamon rolls to cool down too much.”

“When you’re available and if you’re willing, I’d like to have another session with you,” Sansa said as she began taking steps towards the kitchen.

In all honesty, Jon hadn’t decided if he wanted to see Sansa again. His mom had made it obvious that she wasn’t trying to reach out to him and he hadn’t wanted to pay the steep fee of five-hundred dollars for Sansa to tell him that his mom still didn’t want to talk with him.

“When?” He heard himself ask nonetheless.

“As soon as you can.”

…

Chapter Text

…

Five.

Her profession wasn’t always terrifying. There weren’t always spirits knocking her over and screaming in her face. Most of the time, they were just wanting her help. And most of the time, the family left behind just wanted to speak with them one more time (or countless more times) and be able to tell them all of the things they hadn’t been able to while they were living. Many people would consider what Sansa did as “hocus pocus” and not to be believed and definitely not to be respected. She was a fraud. A charlatan. So many colorful adjectives and thoughts in regard to Sansa and her ilk. But Sansa didn’t care. She didn’t think of those who had never come to sit at her table and experience something for themselves. All she cared about was helping as many people as she possibly could who wanted to be helped.

Margaery Tyrell was truly her best customer. She came every single month, paid the expensive session fee, and had referred more than one of her friends to Sansa and her table. But even if Margaery didn’t do any of those things and Sansa had just randomly met her in a normal life, Sansa would have liked the woman. She was fun and funny. She had the sort of personality that drew people in because whoever she was with, she gave them her complete attention. Margaery seemed to enjoy life in a way that Sansa envied.

Olenna Tyrell had been the mother of Margaery’s father and Margaery had loved her. She had loved her so much and Olenna had loved her granddaughter just as much in return. Olenna Tyrell left this world in the way that all people wished they would when their own time came. She went to sleep one night and just never woke up again. She slipped from this world, peacefully and quietly. Her heart had just decided that it was done pumping. Margaery knew she needed to move on. It had been two years since her passing. Her entire family had mourned the loss, but Olenna was old. That’s what old people did. They died. The world didn’t stop because of it. But Margaery couldn’t stop her grief. And once she found Sansa and Sansa could actually communicate with Olenna, that definitely wasn’t going to help her move on. And Olenna didn’t seem to mind.

Their sessions were always filled with gossip and laughter. Margaery couldn’t see or hear her grandmother, but she could feel her. The room was always a little colder and she swore that she could feel someone touching her hair. Her grandmother had always loved combing her thick chestnut hair with her fingers, and it seemed like she still liked to do that, standing behind her chair as they laughed. Sansa said word-for-word what Olenna said and it might have been in her voice, but Margaery heard her grandmother through Sansa’s words.

“Isn’t that the worst name you just ever heard?” Margaery laughed. “I told him that it must be considered animal cruelty to have a dog with that name, but Ernest doesn’t care.”

Sansa nodded her head because that was what Olenna did. The woman was standing behind her granddaughter, her fingers combing gently through her hair. Margaery couldn’t feel it, but she would be able to sense it. “He’s an idiot. You need to marry that man,” Sansa, as Olenna, said.

“I can’t marry a man who named his dog Queso Dip,” Margaery replied.

“In his defense, the shelter named the dog and Ernest just kept it.”

“You’re right. He’s an idiot,” Margaery agreed, but was smiling as she did. “I think I will marry him. Some women absolutely love idiots, and I need to keep him close to me.”

Olenna laughed. She then looked at Sansa across the table. “I need to go, dear. Sansa’s getting tired.”

“Of course!” Margaery, as she did every other session, had lost complete track of time. Sansa’s sessions usually went for about forty minutes. Not nearly long enough in Margaery’s opinion, but she understood. She couldn’t even imagine how draining it would be to do what Sansa did. She left these sessions and was always glad that she didn’t have Sansa’s gift for herself. “I love you so much, Grandmother.”

“My girl, I love you, too. I’ll see you soon. And be good to Ernest. He loves you.”

“I’m always a delight to him,” Margaery defended herself.  “Before you go, who’s your favorite? Me, Willas, Garlan, or Loras?” Margaery asked the same question at the end of every session in regard to her and her brothers.

“You, you brat,” Olenna laughed as she faded. A moment later, the temperature returned to normal and the fire popping in the fireplace that evening filled the room with warmth once again. Margaery slid her hand from Sansa’s and smiled with warmth that matched the fire.

“Thank you, Sansa,” she said.

“You are very welcome. I agree with your grandmother. You should probably marry him. You two seem to have a good relationship.” Sansa had been gifted a front row seat to Margaery’s relationship with her boyfriend for the past couple of years as Margaery always made sure to keep Olenna in the loop. They broke up often for no reason at all, but even when they were apart, Margaery spoke of him with such love, it was another thing that made Sansa envious about the woman sitting across from her.

Margaery loved and lived and Sansa felt as if she had done neither.

“He’d probably put in his wedding vows to me that I can’t change the dog’s name. He’s so stubborn about it now because he knows how much I hate it,” Margaery commented as both women stood up. Sansa laughed and Margaery followed her into the kitchen. After every session with her, Sansa offered to make tea – which Margaery always accepted.

Sansa’s house was an old sort and there was an original stone fireplace in the kitchen. Lady had her dog bed on the floor in front of it and she woke up as soon as the two women came through the swinging door. Whenever Olenna Tyrell’s spirt was around, it was one who never bothered Lady with its presence. She was always such a calm session, Lady slept right through it without her animal instincts bothering her.

As Sansa went to the sink to fill the tea kettle, Margaery lowered herself to her knees and rubbed Lady behind both of her ears. “Oh, Queso Dip. Why can’t you have an elegant name like Lady?” Margaery bemoaned. Lady wagged her tail eagerly from the affection and Sansa laughed again.

Once the tea was hot and properly steeped, both women sat down at the table with their mugs and Sansa pulled back the lid of the tin of butter cookies she always had on hand for teatime. She wondered how Jon would respond if she invited him to stay for tea and butter cookies. She never would ask him, she already knew. It wouldn’t be appropriate. Margaery’s sessions were nothing like what Jon’s had been. Or hadn’t been. His mother had died violently, and her spirit didn’t want to talk to him. Rhaegar Targaryen was too strong. A session like that couldn’t be finished with tea and butter cookies in her cozy kitchen.

“Thank you for seeing my friend, Jon,” Margaery said after a moment.

“Of course. Thank you for recommending me.” Sansa paused, unsure of how to continue. “He’s very quiet,” She then heard herself comment.

Margaery released an unladylike snort as she took another butter cookie. “That’s putting it lightly. We lived across the hall from one another for four months before I actually heard his voice. I was convinced an actual mute had moved in.”

Sansa’s lips twitched in a small smile before she took a sip of tea. “Are you good friends?” She was treading lightly. She didn’t know how much Margaery knew and Sansa considered her sessions with clients to be the same as a psychiatrist or a Priest. She would never reveal what happened during her sessions with one client to another.

Margaery paused as if thinking it through. “Yes,” she then answered. “Funnily enough, I consider him to be my best. Not too sure how that happened,” she said that last part with a smile.

Sansa looked down at her teacup as she took a sip and didn’t say anything for another moment. Her best friends were her siblings. When she was young, before her gift grew to the strength it was today, she had had dozens of friends. She was always invited to sleepovers and birthday parties. But then, freak became her label and no one wanted to hang out with the girl who could see a dead family member in the room with them.

“I was honestly shocked when he asked if I could get him in to see the woman who talks to my grandmother,” Margaery continued. “There’s just something about Jon that would never lead me to think he would believe in… he’s the most serious person I know.”

“I got that from him, too,” Sansa agreed. She didn’t know every single detail about Jon Snow and his life. She knew very little. But she knew enough. If her own mother had been part of a religious cult who had then been burned to death, locked in a church, Sansa imagined that she would be quite serious, too. “I had difficulty reaching who he wanted me to. I asked him if he would like to have another session.”

“What did he say?”

What did he say? After he asked her when she wanted another session and she had truthfully told him as soon as he could, they then joined her grandmother in the kitchen. And as they ate a cinnamon roll each and their cups of coffee, Jon hadn’t said anything. Minisa had carried the conversation, and Sansa had listened with one ear while watching Jon with one eye. He didn’t say anything, but he was a very good listener, and the occasional smile would pass his lips. He only spoke when one of the nurses downstairs contacted him through his radio, needing his help in one of the patient’s rooms, and he stood up, thanking Minisa for the cinnamon roll and coffee.

“Anytime,” she had smiled at him and Jon smiled, too.

Jon then looked at Sansa. He didn’t say anything to her, but he dipped his head to her politely before leaving the apartment. Sansa didn’t know what to make of that. She didn’t know if he would come to her for another session. Even if she had requested it, she doubted she would see him again. She couldn’t necessarily blame him.

And the more she thought on what had happened with Rhaegar and how furious the man had been over her brief involvement with Jon, Sansa didn’t know if she was brave enough to see Jon Snow and dip into the fog surrounding him. Rhaegar was terrifying, to put it lightly. She couldn’t help but wonder how the man had been when leading his church/cult. She couldn’t help but wonder how growing up with a man like that had been for Jon.

“He didn’t say anything,” Sansa answered Margaery’s question.

A smile burst across Margaery’s face and she nearly laughed. “Sounds just like him.”

The two women finished their tea and had a couple of more cookies.

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” Margaery asked once they stood from the table and Sansa took the teacups to the sink.

“You know where it is,” Sansa smiled.

As soon as the bathroom door in the hallway shut, the doorbell rang. “Oh shoot. That’s Ernest!” Margaery called out from the other side.

Sansa turned off the water and dried her hands on the towel. “I’ll get him,” she offered.

Lady happily trotted at her side as Sansa went to the front door. She opened the door and smiled at Margaery’s boyfriend, Ernest Wright. He stood on the porch with a terrier mutt on a leash at his side. The dog was the definition of a mutt. His fur was a mix of tan, white and grey. It also oddly looked like it was waterproof. His tail was long, but his snout was short. He had triangle ears and short legs. He was also ten years old and had been a street dog and then a shelter dog. Margaery had wanted a puppy, but when Ernest found out he had never had a home before and probably never would because he was a senior dog, the man adopted him right then.

Sansa and Ernest smiled at one another. “Hi, Ernest.” But then Sansa looked at the dog and her smile widened. “Hello, Queso Dip,” she said with the slightest laugh.

Ernest rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. She was bitching to her grandmother about it.”

Sansa held her thumb and finger apart with a tiny distance between them. “Just a little bitching.”

Lady and Queso Dip were sniffing at each other and Sansa held her hand down so the dog could sniff her hand as well. When he allowed it, Sansa then rubbed him on his head. He was adorable and he had hit the jackpot with both Ernest and Margaery adopting him – name aside.

Ernest Wright was tall and handsome. He was a car mechanic – his rough hands were one of Margaery’s favorite things about him (Sansa knew this because Margaery told her grandmother this). He had that dirty blonde hair color and a slightly crooked nose from it being broken when he was a teenager playing hockey and it had never been set right. But that crooked nose fit perfectly with his handsome face, according to Margaery.

Margaery, self-admittedly, was a terrible driver and she kept having to bring her car to the garage for one reason or another. It was how she and Ernest met.

“Just like Amy Fisher and Joey Buttafuoco,” Margaery would say with a smile.

“Please stop telling people that,” Ernest would beg her.

Ernest was one of the lucky ones. In his twenties, he had never had anyone close to him die. He still had all four grandparents, his parents, his siblings, his aunts and uncles. He had had a couple of distant cousins pass away and he attended their funerals, but he had hardly known them and their deaths hadn’t affected him in some profound way. But even not being touched by death, he didn’t doubt what Sansa could do. Not only did his girlfriend believe in Sansa’s gift wholeheartedly, but Ernest didn’t see a reason not to believe it. What did he know? There were plenty of things in this world he didn’t know the first thing about.

The couple, and Queso Dip, left a few minutes later. Margaery had told Sansa that she had left her payment on her desk and after locking the front door and turning off the porch light, Sansa went to take the cash bills and put them in her lockbox. Lady waited to see where Sansa would be going next and when she began climbing the stairs, Lady raced ahead to reach the top first. Sansa smiled and followed. She didn’t want to take a nap. It was too close to her usual bedtime, but still too early to actually go to sleep for the night. She was exhausted, but she just had to power through and keep herself awake for a few more hours. She should probably eat something. Tea and butter cookies did not make a filling dinner.

She went to her dresser and took out a fresh pair of socks before sitting on the side of her bed. During sessions, she wore thick wool socks to keep her feet warm. It was advice both her grandmother and mother gave her. The house got so cold anytime a spirit visited them and if someone’s feet were cold, the rest of them would be cold. Keeping their feet as warm as possible was a small comfort. Sansa would tell her oldest daughter (or oldest niece) the same thing one day when her own gift was waning and things like this had to be passed on.

Being around her bed or just in her bedroom was too dangerous right now. She could lay down right now and fall asleep instantly and then wake up at two o’clock in the morning with her entire sleep schedule completely screwed up. Sansa, with Lady on her heels, went back downstairs. In the kitchen, she began digging through the refrigerator and freezer, looking for something to eat. Next were the cabinets and pantry. But nothing was grabbing her. Sansa wasn’t the sort to get food delivered or go get herself fast food. She liked to cook and bake and make things for herself. But tonight, she was honestly considering getting into her car and going somewhere to get food. She was tired and still had the slightest ache on the back of her head from Rhaegar’s force throwing her from her chair.

As she was deciding if she really felt like fixing herself some Aglio e Olio pasta – quick and easy – or just eating more butter cookies with another cup of tea, Sansa felt herself grow very still. She waited to see if she had just imagined it. She held her breath as she slowly turned away from the shelves of the pantry towards the rest of the kitchen. Lady had been drinking from her water dish, but the Northern Inuit had also gone very still, too. Sansa knew she hadn’t imagined it. She looked around the kitchen, but there was nothing there except herself and her dog. When she exhaled the breath she was holding in her lungs, she could see it in front of her face. The temperature had dropped that much within seconds. Whoever was here in her house was very strong.

Her cell phone was on the kitchen table, and she jumped when it suddenly vibrated with a new call. Sansa hesitated. She didn’t want to move too quickly. It might be very nearby. Not only was it strong, but Sansa could feel the emotion. A spirit with this kind of strength could never be underestimated. Her heart was pounding and her breath was exhaling faster in puffs of clouds in front of her. She was scared, but her phone kept vibrating and she needed to move.

She dove for it just as Lady began barking.

“Mom!” It was Catelyn’s name on the lock screen.

“Get out of the house, Sansa!” Catelyn shouted as if she knew she had to shout to be heard over Lady’s barking and Sansa’s beating heart. “Whatever is in your house, I can feel it, too, and you need to get out of there!”

Sansa didn’t question her. “Lady!” Sansa yelled at her still-barking dog and grabbed her keys from the hook on the wall. She’d go across the street to Arya’s house and if her sister wasn’t home, at least she would be outside. Most people imagined the air filled with spirits just floating around, but it wasn’t like that. It was like how they were when they were alive. They liked to be indoors. When they did go outside, for whatever reason, they weren’t as strong. Minisa and Catelyn said that it was because the outdoors were too vast and open and whatever strength they had was too stretched. Inside, surrounded by walls, their strength could be concentrated in one area. Outside, Sansa would be relatively safer. Even a spirit this strong and emotional would have a hard time focusing it on Sansa if she was outside.

Lady sprinted with her as Sansa ran from the kitchen to the front door. She unlocked it and threw it open as fast as she could. She could feel the spirit. It was right behind her now, “breathing” which was even colder air blowing on the back of her neck and rustling her hair. Lady was still barking and as soon as Sansa threw the front door open, the dog practically leapt from the house. Sansa was right behind her and as she ran, she looked behind her shoulder to see if she could see what was inside and it make sure it was not following her. As she turned her head to look forward again, she screamed.

Someone grabbed her and she screamed as loud as she could.

“Sansa!” Whoever the someone was yelled to be heard over her scream. “Sansa, it’s Jon!”

The scream cut off in her throat as she looked at the man. It was definitely Jon. Jon Snow was here. Her heart was hammering and she was panting breathlessly.

“Jon,” she said his name, reassuring her brain that it was indeed a man in front of her and nothing else. Just a man who she knew. She couldn’t help herself. Jon was still holding her arms as if he knew she was about to collapse and looking at this man’s face, Sansa burst into tears.

…

Chapter Text

Queso Dip

…

Six.

Like most mothers, Catelyn Stark loved her children before she even held them in her arms. She loved them the very instant she heard their heart beats in the doctor’s examination room. She loved them when she first saw them on the ultrasound machine. And her heart exploded with love the first time she heard their cries in the delivery room and held them in her arms. But with Sansa, it was a little different. It was always a little different with Sansa.

When Catelyn first held Sansa against her chest immediately after the delivery for skin-to-skin contact, she loved her so much. But she also felt guilt. Catelyn cried as she had when she held Robb two years earlier, but this time, with Sansa, she rested her lips to the baby’s head.

“I’m sorry,” Catelyn whispered, crying. “I’m so sorry.”

And her husband, Ned, standing at her side heard her words and knew exactly why she was saying that seconds after giving birth to their healthy daughter. He leaned down and kissed Sansa’s head and then kissed Catelyn on hers.

Catelyn could admit that she never wanted a daughter. She knew exactly what having a daughter would mean and Catelyn didn’t want that for her child. As her mother said, they had a gift, but it was a gift that changed their entire life from what it could have been if they were the second born daughter. This gift would shape Sansa’s entire being and she was just a minute old. It was a lonely existence and at times, a frightening one. She would be able to help so many people, but her life might very well never fully be her own.

It also took a very particular partner to live this life, too, because even if they, themselves, didn’t have the ability, it was something that would be a part of their lives as well for many years. It took strength and bravery. They had to be supportive and understanding. It wasn’t a role many men would be capable of filling even though many would argue the opposite. Having Ned Stark as a partner in all ways was something Catelyn always looked at as the blessing that it was. He was the best man and the most wonderful husband and father. Catelyn’s mother, Minisa, had thought the exact same things about her own husband, Hoster. Both women prayed that Sansa would be able to find a man in her own life that could be those things for her someday.

Catelyn was waiting in the kitchen for the rice to finish cooking on the stovetop. Rickon, their youngest and the only one to still live at home with them, would be getting home from high school hockey practice any moment. Rickon was always absolutely famished after hockey practice and Catelyn had fixed a dinner of beef and broccoli for the family of three that evening. In the family room, she could hear the television as Ned watched the news as he did every other evening after returning home from work. She wished he didn’t do that. The news was always so depressing and as she got older, Catelyn wanted to live in a la-la land of constant sunshine.

The cold and the fog slammed into her so fast, she let out a cry of both surprise and pain and the strength of it pushed her back a step. The wooden spoon she was holding dropped to the floor. It became so cold, her skin broke out into goosebumps, but after a moment, she realized that the kitchen wasn’t physically cold. She couldn’t see her breath. It took her another second to figure it out. This wasn’t happening to her. Something like this hadn’t happened to her in months and it wasn’t happening to her now.

“Sansa,” she gasped.

Her heart was pounding. Whatever was near her daughter right now was very strong and very emotional. Angry. She needed to call Sansa and check on her this very second. Her cell phone was in the family room, and she rushed from the kitchen, nearly colliding with Ned, who had rushed from the family room to the kitchen when he heard his wife cry out. Her fingers were shaking as she unlocked her phone and found Sansa’s number. Her heart was pounding and tears stung her eyes. The cold wasn’t going away, and it was just getting colder. Sansa. Her dear Sansa. She vaguely heard Ned in the background, asking her what was going on, but she couldn’t even take one second to explain it to him.

“Mom!” Sansa shouted as soon as she answered the call.

Catelyn heard Lady barking fiercely in the background “Get out of the house, Sansa!” She didn’t hesitate in shouting. “Whatever is in your house, I can feel it, too, and you need to get out of there!” Sansa didn’t end the call, and Catelyn could hear her yell for Lady to come with her, and they both ran through the house for the front door. Catelyn held her breath and Ned’s face was suddenly next to hers, pressing to hers so he could hear, too. Her finger shook as she managed to put the call on speaker so they could both hear. They heard Sansa gasping and struggling with the lock, but then the door was thrown open, and they heard both their daughter and her dog run from the house. But then they jumped when Sansa let out a blood-curling scream.

“Sansa!” Ned and Catelyn shouted into the phone.

“Sansa! Sansa, it’s Jon!”

Neither had any idea who Jon was, but they knew whoever he was, he was definitely alive and Sansa was out of the house.

“Sansa, we’re coming,” Catelyn spoke hurriedly even though she knew Sansa probably hadn’t heard her. She ended the call and Ned was already in the front hall, tugging on his coat. Catelyn rushed to do the same. As they tugged on their boots, the front door opened and Rickon arrived home with his bookbag on his back and heavy hockey gear gym bag on his shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Rickon asked as soon as he saw his parents.

“Sansa,” was all Ned said as he searched his pockets for his car keys.

“Do you need me to come?”

Catelyn shook her head. “Turn everything off in the kitchen. Dinner is ready and I want you to get plenty to eat after your practice. I want to hear all about it when I get home again.” She kissed her son on his head as she rushed out the door with Ned right behind her.

All five of her children were special to her. Catelyn made sure they never forgot that.

…

Jon tried to catch her, but she fell to her knees and promptly threw up in the snow on the curb. Jon knelt next to her, feeling the cold and wet slush of winter soak through his jeans, but he didn’t care. He rubbed Sansa’s back as she coughed and gagged everything up. He had no idea what was going on, but it wasn’t good. That much was obvious. He looked back to her house. The front door was wide open, and he looked as if he was expecting to see some ominous shadow form standing there. But there was nothing. Something had chased her and her dog out of the house, but whatever it was, Jon couldn’t see it. Was there something standing there that Jon just couldn’t see? Just that fleeting thought gave Jon a tingle of fear on the back of his neck.

He looked back to Sansa. It was freezing out here and she wasn’t wearing a coat. Jon stood up. He unzipped his coat and took it off and then draped it over her. He crouched down again at her side, and she pulled herself up from having bent over to throw up. She turned her head to look at him. Jon looked into her eyes. He had no idea what to say so he didn’t say anything. He could ask her what had happened, but he also felt like he didn’t need to. He barely knew her – didn’t know her at all, in fact – and yet, what had happened to her was fairly obvious to him.

“Thank you,” she whispered and her hands tightened his coat around her. “What are you doing here?” Sansa then asked.

“I know I don’t have an appointment, but you said you wanted a session with me sooner rather than later,” he said. Sansa looked at him before something of a laugh escaped from her. He wasn’t sure why she laughed, but the sound of it made Jon give her a small smile.

“You’re not shivering,” Sansa noted. She began to take off his coat to return to him, but Jon shook his head, covering her hands with his so she would keep it on.

“I’m okay,” he told her and that was the truth.

He didn’t want to get into it, but he had been conditioned to withstand temperatures even colder than this. It was another one of Rhaegar’s punishments, though he viewed this one as training. He liked to expose his followers to extreme temperatures for far longer than their bodies could actually stand it. In his twisted mind, Rhaegar felt that the colder they were, their blood would “wake up” and be set on fire because they were all dragons and just needed “encouragement” to be ignited. A few years later, the frigid temperatures of Winterfell still never phased him.

Across the street, the house had two front doors. One led into the first-floor apartment and the second led to the second-floor apartment. It was the second door that was yanked open. Sansa and Jon hadn’t noticed until right that moment that Lady had run across the street to that house and was barking at the second door. Arya now ran outside in a panic, and it took a second for her brain to register what her eyes were seeing. Sansa was on her knees on the ground and there was a man kneeling next to her. And behind her, the front door to her own house was wide open.

“Sansa!” Her voice echoed through the night as she came tearing their way.

“My sister, Arya,” Sansa was quick to say to Jon before Arya skidded to a stop and dropped to her knees in front of them both. “I’m okay,” she then quickly said to her sister. “It was just…” she trailed off and she looked at Jon. “I’ve been trying to get in contact with your mother,” she admitted. She could hardly meet his eyes after she said that, and it seemed like she didn’t know if she should have even said that.

“Why?” That was the only question Jon could possibly ask right then.

“His mother did this?” Arya asked at the same time.

Jon looked to the other young woman. He hadn’t even thought of that. His eyes flew back to Sansa. Was his mother the one who chased Sansa from her own home and scared her so much, she had thrown up in the snow? No. It couldn’t be his mom. His mom had never been angry like that in her life. She could be angry, yes. She had been human. Near the end, before Jon was able to get out and he was questioning more and more of Rhaegar and his “church”, there had been fights. Definite fights between mother and son and her not believing her son that he would ever want to leave the church and Rhaegar. Who would ever want to leave Rhaegar?

“I have a bad feeling, mom,” Jon tried to tell her.

“About Rhaegar?” Lyanna’s tone was one of pure disbelief. “What are you talking about? Rhaegar saved us, Jon.”

“Did he?” The question left his mouth before he could stop it. Lyanna blinked at him. “Before you found him online, weren’t we doing alright on our own?”

“No, Jon. We weren’t doing alright. You are too young and don’t remember anything. We were barely surviving before I found Rhaegar and we owe everything to him.”

Jon stared at his mother. He loved his mom and he knew she loved him. He had to believe that she loved him. But as he stared at her, he realized that even if she did love him as a mother was supposed to love her child, her love for Rhaegar was greater. She would put Rhaegar before everything and everyone else. Deep down, Jon realized that he had always known that, but it had been one thing he had never actually wanted to admit to himself. Whatever Rhaegar did and whatever he said, it would always be the right thing in Lyanna’s eyes.

Lyanna stepped to him now and Jon released a shaky breath as she put a gentle hand on her cheek. They had the same black curly hair and same eyes with the strangest grey flecks in them. Whoever his father was (Jon didn’t know and he never would), Jon was fairly certain he hadn’t gotten anything from him. He was always his mother’s son. But for the first time, Jon looked at Lyanna as she looked at him and he felt scared. He had no idea what he had done. He had just voiced doubt towards the Head of their church. That was a punishable offense, and everyone knew it. But his mother wouldn’t tell anyone. She loved Rhaegar more, but Jon was still her son.

She leaned in then and internally, Jon braced himself. She pressed a kiss on his forehead and then pulled back. “I’m going to have to tell Barristan about this,” she said.

Barristan Selmy was one of the Church elders and one of Rhaegar’s most devoted followers and believers. He was also the one other church members were sent to when they stepped out of line or spoke even one word of doubt towards Rhaegar and the church. Just hearing his name leaving his mom’s mouth, Jon felt a wave of nausea. Barristan could be a kind man, but it was always the kind men who could, at times, be the cruelest.

Jon looked at his mom and he didn’t say anything. He knew that the time had come. He had to get the Hell out of there. Tonight, if possible.

His mom would have been angry when it was learned that he snuck out and run away, but to show such anger once she had died? Jon couldn’t believe that. Was he stupid for not believing that? Even after all this time, he kept holding out hope that his mom would have chosen her son over Rhaegar though she had shown him time and time again that she wouldn’t.

“No, it wasn’t your mom,” Sansa shook her head. “It was…” she trailed off and swallowed. “Can you help me stand up?” She asked instead of finishing her thought.

Her cell phone, on the ground next to her vomit, began to ring and Arya looked to the front screen. Sansa looked, too, and neither sister was surprised at the name they saw.  

Arya took the phone, getting to her feet. “I got her. Hi, grandma,” she answered the call and turned away. “She’s okay. She got outside and threw up. But she’s okay.” She paused. “She didn’t say.”

Jon pushed himself to his feet and then took Sansa’s elbows, helping her to her own feet gently and slowly. He kept holding her elbows, giving her another moment to get her balance and for him to make sure that she wasn’t ready to fall to her knees again. He told himself that he should take a step back. She seemed steady now. She was breathing normally again. But he couldn’t seem to actually listen to his brain. His body was acting all on its own and right now, his body wanted to continue standing with little space between himself and Sansa Stark with his eyes looking into her own. And Sansa was looking into his eyes without taking her own step back.

In the church, when the children began to enter puberty, the church elders began to decide on couplings. Nothing would be expected of them until they were eighteen and more mature. Then, weddings would take place, and pregnancies would be expected shortly after. (Rhaegar also took a few girls to be assigned to himself and other church elders.) Jon hadn’t actually received his pairing even though Lyanna boasted to him that Rhaegar told her that many of the girls expressed interest in being Jon’s wife. Rhaegar had let everyone know that Jon was special and different with great things planned for him. He couldn’t have a wife and children just yet. The time for all of that would come when he was a bit older.

Sometimes, Jon would wonder who his wife would have been when he turned eighteen. There had been a couple of girls in the church that he had had crushes on, and he probably wouldn’t have minded if Rhaegar and the elders paired him with one of them. Jon looked at Sansa now. If she had been in the church, who would she had been paired with? She was beautiful. She really was. Jon probably would have had a crush on her. Her obvious strength only added to her attractiveness. Rhaegar probably would have taken Sansa for himself.

He didn’t know how long they had looked at one another. It had long passed the time limit of it being casual. Jon told himself to look away and step back, but then he pointed out to himself that Sansa wasn’t doing those things either. Again, he told himself that she couldn’t actually read his mind because what weird thoughts to be having about her.

A car speeding down the street and then screeching to a stop at the curb in front of Sansa’s house finally got their eyes away from one another. As two people rushed from the car and Sansa turned towards them, Jon saw something from the corner of his eye. It was Arya, still holding Sansa’s cell to her ear with Minisa on the other end, but she was looking at Jon. He wasn’t entirely what her expression was. She looked almost curious, but Jon couldn’t be sure.

Jon looked back to the two people from the car, now taking turns, hugging Sansa, and Sansa assuring them both that she was alright. These had to be her parents, Jon figured. She looked just like the woman. The man made sure to crouch down and give attention to Lady, too, calling her a good girl and also thank her for keeping Sansa safe.

“This is Jon,” Sansa then said. He couldn’t help but be surprised. For some reason, he hadn’t expected her to make introductions. “Jon, this is my mom and dad. Catelyn and Ned.”

Ned stood up again, already holding out his hand. “Good to meet you, Jon.”

“You, too,” Jon dipped his head politely to him while shaking his hand. “I’m sorry about this,” he then heard himself say. No matter who she was trying to contact, Sansa was trying to contact someone because of him. Her vomit in the snow was a direct result of him. He had no idea how her parents knew to come here. It had just been a few minutes and Sansa hadn’t called them. But then, he remembered something Sansa had said in her grandma’s apartment.

“They used to do it, too.”

Did that mean that her mom had known something? Had she felt the same thing Sansa had?

“It’s not your fault,” Sansa said with the smallest smile. “It was my fault.” She looked to her mom, Catelyn already looking at her and waiting for an explanation. “Jon’s mother… she was part of…” she trailed off and looked to Jon again, stopping herself before revealing his secret.

Jon didn’t consider it a secret. Netflix had already made a documentary about it. Every crime channel and podcast seemed to already have one or more episodes talking about it. He wasn’t the only survivor. “My mom and I were both members of the Church of the Dragon,” he said.

“Oh,” was all Catelyn said.

Arya was still looking at him, and she was definitely curious now. Ned gave Jon a small smile before looking back to Sansa for further explanation.

“It wasn’t Jon’s mom though. Two nights ago, this same spirit knocked me out of my chair and I hit my head.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Catelyn demanded with a hard tone though Jon knew immediately she wasn’t angry. He had just met this woman, but he could hear her fear. Jon imagined that if his daughter – if he had a daughter – could do what Sansa did, he’d be scared all of the time. And Catelyn probably knew exactly what Sansa was going through on a daily basis since she had gone through it, too.

“I’m not used to a woman spirit having that kind of anger or strength. And two nights ago, when the spirit knocked me down, it had a male voice. I think…” Once again, Sansa paused. She looked at both of her parents before looking to Jon. She swallowed and her eyes stayed on him. “I think two nights ago and now tonight, I think this spirt is Rhaegar Targaryen.”

Beneath his feet, Jon felt the ground slightly tilt. Just from hearing that man’s name immediately made Jon’s world off axis. His stomach clenched painfully.

Sansa swallowed before continuing. “And whatever you were to him or whatever happened, Jon, he still wants you.”

…