Jon Snow & Sansa Stark - Game of Thrones Fanfiction

Ruby Red

"You're hopeless, Jon." Sansa shook her head and fell down in a comfortable chair in the corner of the room. Each and every toe was hurting and she didn't even dare to take off her shoes and socks to have a look at her ankles en feet.

He had stood on them at least a hundred times yet and it didn't seem like he was gonna magically improve during the next half an hour. Which meant that he was singlehandedly jeopardising tonight's mission.

Her hand went through her long red hair. "If I were you, I'd try to come up with an endless list of excuses to avoid having to dance tonight."

"I'm sorry, okay?" Jon tucked a black curl behind his ear. "You and Robb have trained for this your entire life. Up until two weeks ago I didn't even know I had this freaking time travel gene."

Sansa rolled her eyes. She still didn't know how this could have happened.

Everything had been so perfect.

She and Robb were prepared to be the diamond and the ruby, the last two stones to complete the secret mission of the order. Ever since they could walk they had been taking dancing lessons, fashion lessons, music classes and history courses. And just when they were about to start their mission, on Robb's twenty-first birthday, nothing had happened.

Robb hadn't felt sick. He hadn't disappeared. He hadn't been transported to years and years and years ago. His birthday had started and passed and nothing weird had happened.

And then their cousin Jon had come home with wide open eyes and a skin paler than the brand new white sheets on their beds.

All those years of preparations. All those courses. All those hours of going over names and dates and facts. It had all been for nothing.

Because it would not be Robb who would travel with Sansa to ancient times to complete this mission.

It would be Jon.

Jon, who's twenty-first birthday wasn't supposed to be until December. Jon, who had never shown any interest in the classical arts and knew nothing about the manners in the golden age.

"Tonight we're gonna be presented to the order. I won't let you ruin everything I've worked for my entire life." Sansa stood up from her seat again and despite the pain she reached for his hands once more. "Back from the start."

But no matter how long they practised, how often they started anew, how loud Sansa yelled at him, his skills were still hopeless when they entered the wonderful looking ballroom in the eighteenth century.

"It's a good thing you're a guy. But if anyone asks why you're not dancing, just tell them you have a sprained ankle or something." Sansa hissed between her teeth while she nodded at the strangers staring at them. She was wearing a golden dress that reached the floor and barely fitted through the door. She had tried to ask if she could at least wear sneakers, since no one would see her shoes anyway, but her mother had found it too much of a risk.

As if bringing Jon here, completely unprepared and without the proper knowledge, was any less of a risk. And yet, he did look good in his golden costume matching her dress. He had his back straight and his chin up and despite his sweating hands he didn't look like he was hopelessly out of place. It was quite admirable, considering the fact that up until a few weeks ago he had wanted nothing to do with the whole secret society thing she and Robb were involved in.

"Jon?" Sansa turned her face towards him and she swallowed when their eyes met. "I know that this isn't easy for you. You're doing much better than I would have done if I were you."

Jon curled his lips up into a slight smile. "I know how important this all is to you." He leaned a little towards her. "I know that my best isn't good enough, but I'll really try to do this right." He squeezed her hand and instinctively Sansa smiled back.

"Here you are." A young man with a bright grin on his face made his way through the crowd straight for them. "My honorary guests have finally arrived." He reached for Sansa's hand and pressed a soft kiss on her knuckles before he pulled her closer towards him. "Tales of your beauty have not been doing you any justice, lady Sansa Stark." He locked her hand in his tight grip and Sansa swallowed when she saw the hunger in his eyes when his glance rested on her exposed cleavage.

For years she had imagined what the famous Joffrey Baratheon, original founder of the order, looked like. In her dreams he had been a charming and handsome prince and secretly she had imagined how he would fall in love with her and how they would share an intense romance despite being centuries apart. But now she was standing in front of him all those dreams vanished.

"I am looking forward to spending more time with you, but for tonight I hope you will simply enjoy this ball in your honour." He ignored Jon completely, as if Jon didn't even exist and Sansa pulled her hand back as soon as Joffrey gave her the chance to do so. "It is tradition for the guest of honour to dance the first dance of the night." He stretched out his hand, but before he could officially ask Sansa to dance with him, Jon cleared his throat.

"Lady Sansa?" He held out his hand too. "Would you honour me with your first dance of the evening?"

It went against all protocol, but a smile spread across Sansa's face anyway and she firmly placed her hand in his. "It would be my honour, Jon Snow." She bent her head slightly and she allowed Jon to guide her to the middle of the dance floor.

A little reluctantly Jon's arm circled around her waist and he furrowed his eyebrows when the music started.

"Just let me lead." Sansa whispered and she placed a hand on his shoulder. She could feel Joffrey's eyes lingering on them and she pressed her body a little tighter to Jon's. "Thanks, by the way." She used her hips and chest to guide him and surprisingly enough Jon followed.

Jon tightened his grip on her. "No problem. I don't like how he looks at you." Jon's lips were close to her ear and Sansa smiled. "And..." He swallowed. "I kinda like dancing with you."

The smile on Sansa's face brightened. "If you're not standing on my toes constantly, I kinda like dancing with you too." She let her head rest against his shoulder and she was quite surprised how great it felt to do so.

"Are you still mad that it's me and not Robb who's stuck with that gene?" Jon whispered and Sansa shook her head.

"I'm not mad." She closed her eyes. "On the contrary, actually."