Chapter Text
Sansa flops on the couch next to Robb with an uncharacteristically dramatic huff. She grabs a blanket from the pile and wraps it round her shoulders, curling up into a ball and tucking her feet under her. He shoots his sister a look before turning back to his video game and speaking into his headphones. “Hey guys, don’t say anything too vulgar. My little sister just came into the den.” He waits for a beat, eyes intently focused on the warrior running across the ruins of a castle and slashing at other fighters. “No, Theon, she is not single and you are not ever allowed to ask her that.”
“Actually, I am.” Sansa pipes up. When Robb looks over at her with concern, she adds, “But I still have no interest in Theon.”
“Guys, I gotta go.”
Sansa shakes her head. “Don’t quit your game on my behalf.”
Robb has already removed his headpiece and exited out of the game, though. He sets the remote control to the side. “What happened? Do I need to go beat Harry’s ass? I can have him bloody in the next hour.”
Sansa laughs, a faint cringe flickering across her face. “I’m fine, really.”
Robb knows his sister though. He knows that light, airy laugh was the fake one she used to cover up her little white lies, to let the people around her know she was fine when she wanted to cry. He scoots over on the couch and wraps his arms around Sansa’s shoulder, timing it perfectly with the first giant, heaving sob to bubble up her throat.
Robb pulls Sansa in and she tucked her head in the crook of his arm, holding the delicate girl while she let her emotions spill. Both his sisters are dreamers - all the Stark children are - but it iz Sansa whose heart was hurt the easiest. Arya dreams of her career and her future, making cheer captain and winning fencing tournaments. But Sansa’s dreams are loftier, more romantic: falling in love and raising a large, happy family like the Starks own one.
He rubs circles on his sister’s back while she sobs into his arms, spilling snot and tears all over his favorite jersey. But that’s why they have a washing machine, anyway, so Robb just lets her cry and tries to offer her his comfort and protection.
When Sansa’s quivering had stopped and her sobs have turned to hiccups, Robb pulls back. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“Not really.” She shakes her head, the tassels on the blanket bobbing back and forth. “Can I get a tissue, though?”
Robb hands her the entire box from the coffee table. “I always thought that Harry was an ass.”
“I broke up with him. Margaery saw him cuddling at the movie theater with some girl named Saffron from Vale High.” She hiccups and blows her nose. “They were seeing Florian and Jonquil, which him and I were supposed to go see next week.”
“I’m sorry, Sansa. You don’t deserve that.” He rubs another gentle circle on her back as another sob pulls from her throat.
She wipes a tissue over her red, tear-stained eyes. “I just feel like such an idiot. I know we’ve only been dating for a few months, but I really thought he could be the one.”
There’s a knock on the door to the den that stops Robb from responding. Sansa and Robb both look over to see their mother standing in the entryway. Sansa quickly blinks away her tears, trying not to let Catelyn see the sadness there. But Catelyn’s eagle eyes catch on quickly.
“Sansa, what’s wrong?” Her brow creases in concern and she steps into the room. “Are you alright?”
“Harry and I broke up, is all.” Sansa sniffles in defeat. “I’m fine though, really.”
“I’m sorry, love.” Catelyn sets a gentle, manicured hand on Sansa’s shoulder and squeezes “Do you want to come upstairs and talk about it? “
“I’m okay right now, but thanks, Mom.” Sansa pulls the blanket round her shoulders closer to her chin.
“Alright.” Catelyn says, although the look on her face belies that she doesn’t believe her daughter. “Jon just came over to see Robb, although I didn’t know we were expecting him.”
Robb looks just as confused as his mother. “I wasn’t.”
As if hearing his name, Jon appears in the doorway where just a moment ago Catelyn had stood. He has a large tupperware container in one hand and Rickon Stark in the other. The russet-haired toddler struggles in Jon’s arms, trying to toss himself over Jon’s shoulders. “I’m gonna take you down!”
Sansa laughs, a real, true laugh, as Jon fakes a fall into the den. Rickon lands gently on Jon’s side, the two of them a tangle of limbs. Jon cries out, “Yield! Yield! I yield, you’ve won!” and Rickon stands up triumphantly, his foot in the middle of Jon’s back.
Sansa smiles at him, her face instantly brightening. Jon’s cheeks redden as he rises. “Sorry for taking so long. I got attacked up in the hallway.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Jon.” Catelyn says. “Will you be staying for dinner?”
“Not tonight, Mrs. Stark, but thank you. My cousins are coming over for dinner and Mum made enough lasagna to feed an army.” Jon ruffles Rickon’s hair as he toddles over to his mother. “I just wanted to let Robb know he left his microphone on the team channel.”
Robb’s face whitens immediately and he meets Sansa’s wide-eyed gaze. He immediately flicks it off and pulls the jack out of his gaming remote.
“I’m going to head upstairs and finish dinner, but let me know if you need anything.” Catelyn lifts Rickon up onto her hip and makes to exit.
“Mom, could I get a cup of tea, please?” Sansa asks, eyes big and wet. “It’s chilly down here.”
“Anyone else? Is mint alright?”
The boys both nod in affirmation. Rickon looks ready to leap from his mother’s arms, like he’s grasping for some invisible butterfly in the air. “Robb, can you help me with your brother and carry the mugs down?”
Robb stands and takes Rickon from his mother’s hands. “I’ll be back in a few.”
They disappear from the den and Jon bends down to pick up the red-lidded tupperware. He sits besides Sansa on the couch and they both wait in silence. Sheepishly, he hands it over to Sansa. “My mum has been baking all day. From what I heard through the headphones I figured you might need something sweet right now.”
Sansa opens the box and, upon seeing the lemon cakes and sugar cookies inside, immediately breaks into a fresh round of crying. Jon gently pats her shoulder until she is breathing normally again. Sansa pulls out a lemon cake, a treat they’ve all known was her favorite since she was three, and eats it in two quick bites.
“Gods, I’m so embarrassed.” Sansa says, looking down at the pile of treats in front of her, before offering one to Jon. “How many of you were on the call?”
“Just me, Theon, and Sam.” Jon says. Sansa groans and throws her head back against the couch. “It’s really not that bad. Even Theon sounded worried.”
“That’s three too many people.” Sansa responds. “I’m supposed to look strong on Monday when I get back to school. No one was supposed to know what a train wreck I am.”
“I don’t think you’re a train wreck.”
A laugh bubbles up unbidden from Sansa's throat. “You’re just saying that. How can you not think I’m a train wreck, sitting here and crying over a dumb jock who decided to start seeing other girls?”
“Harry’s an ass that thinks that being a second-string football player makes him a god.” Jon says, biting into his cookie. "You deserve someone better. And you'll find them, someday. I promise."
Sansa wipes the tears from her eyes with the corner of her blanket and leans into Jon's touch. It's comforting there, and his body emanates warmth like a fire. The October chill has seeped into the basement and while most of her family loves the cold, Sansa wants warmth right now. He wraps an arm around her, letting her find her comfort where she needs it. "You know the dumbest part of all of this?"
"What's that?"
"The thing that upsets me the most isn't even this other girl or that he took her to see the movie based on my favorite book." Sansa sighs and absentmindedly snuggles closer to Jon's chest, nuzzling her head against his arm. "I'm mostly mad that he couldn't wait until after Halloween because I've spent weeks working on our couples costume for the Tyrells' party next weekend and now I'll have to go alone."
"What were you going to be?" Jon asks. He's truly curious, but also thinks it's a good idea to get her to talk about things that aren't just how sad she is.
"Naerys and the Dragonknight." She smiles sadly, eyes clouding over dreamily in recollection. "I based it off designs in historical costume books with patterns from the 1400s. I even managed to make dragon scale patterned armor. Do you know how long that took? Now I'm just going to be some random medieval queen. No one knows who Naerys is without her knight."
"I'm sure you'd make a fine medieval queen. With you hair you could pull off Elizabeth the First, maybe?" Jon suggests.
Sansa scoffs disdainfully. "It's an early 1400s gown. She was born a century later."
Robb comes in a few minutes later and hands each of them a mug of steaming tea. The mint scent fills the den quickly, hopefully relaxing Sansa. When Robb glares at Jon, he slides away from Robb's sister. "So, what were you two talking about?"
"Halloween costumes." Jon responds, quickly taking a sip of his tea to avoid meeting Robb's harsh eyes. He's going to get yelled at for sitting that close to her, he's sure.
"I don't think I'm going to go to the Tyrells' party." Sansa announces. Jon nearly spits out his mouth of hot tea. Margaery is one of Sansa's closest friends and the party is one of the biggest social events of the year. Jon can't imagine Sansa, Student Body Vice President and Key Club President, not attending.
"Why not?" Robb asks, voice relaying similar opinions. "You've gone every year since middle school!"
"I had a couples costume. I'm not in a couple anymore, and it'll look stupid to go alone." Sansa sighs. "Besides, I can't bear the thought of seeing Harry there with Saffron."
Robb looks at Jon, eyes misty and unclear. Jon's not sure what his friend is thinking, and he's pretty sure whatever comes next is going to get him in trouble. Robb keeps evaluating him, eyes sweeping over his whole body. He nods and takes a swig of tea, although he doesn't look too happy with what he's about to say. "You can go with Jon."
Sansa blinks. She has obviously not expected that reaction from her brother. "What?"
"Aemon was always his favorite historical character. When I was obsessed with King Arthur, Jon would retcon Aemon onto the round table." Robb laughs, lightening the stiff mood since he came back in.
Sansa observes him thoughtfully from over the rim of her mug. "Your leaner than Harry and a bit taller so I'll need to get new trousers and take in the top, but it could work."
"I uh -" Jon doesn't have a Halloween costume yet, but he isn't sure if this is a good idea. "I wouldn't want to intrude."
"It would be fine. And I could actually go to the party." Sansa smiles softly and Jon feels a strange fluttering in his head. Her big, blue eyes look so hopeful and excited again, so much less than how sad she looked when he first arrived.
"Fine. I'll do it." Jon agrees, but his eyes flash to Robb's, and her brother's gaze suggests they will be having a long conversation about what it means to escort Sansa to the party before Halloween actually arrives.