✓ Trueblood || Jon Snow

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 ~ 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖉

ONCE AGAIN SHE FELL INTO THE PATTERN SHE'D GROWN USED TO. Sleep, eat, train as much as she could in her chambers and out of sight of her brother, deal with her brother being a twat all day, protect Sansa from her twat of a brother all day, eat, train, bathe, sleep, and reset. Over, and over, and over. Every single day she struggled and fought with the urge to write to Jon. she hadn't seen him in so long, missed him so dearly that there was a physical pain in her chest, like he'd taken a piece of her with him when he left. Sometimes the urge would grow too fierce to fight, and she would write him letters that she found herself feeding to her hearth instead of tying to a Raven's leg.

On the day Myrcella was sent off to Dorne, she hugged her weeping sister tightly, kissed her forehead, and assured her she would write before she climbed into the boat that would take her to a ship that would take her to Dorne.

It was when they began their walk back through the streets however, when things got wild. A few people jeered and begged. She knew people were against the king. But she couldn't have prepared for what came next; the shouting began to intensify, and suddenly, something was thrown, hitting Joffrey in the face. It was shit. That's when all hell broke loose. The people in the streets surged forward in the sudden riot, barely held back by the guards as Joffrey screamed for their heads.

"SANSA!" Yelena slid her dagger from her sleeve and shoved her way through the crowd until she could grab the girl's arm. "Hold onto me and do not let go!" she instructed. Sansa nodded and they continued pushing their way through the chaos. She noticed Tommen's Septa and a couple guards escorting him away. Good. Yelena thought. He's safe. Unfortunately she couldn't say the same for them. The guards were more interested in protecting the king and Queen-Regent, which meant Sansa and Yelena were out in the fray, with only the princess's dagger for protection. And people were dying.

Yelena stabbed two men before just over half a dozen cornered the girls. "Come on!" she grabbed Sansa's arm and ran, taking them down a side hall in the walls, but the men were close behind. They hit a dead end. The princess whirled, taking down two of the men quickly, but that still left six. Three came after her and Three after Sansa, but there was no element of surprise to be had this time. Yelena fought hard as Sansa shrieked in fear. She would not let this happen. She wouldn't fail yet another Stark. But it was beginning to look hopeless. She cried out in pain as a knife suddenly pierced her arm, leaving a cut that wasn't deep, but not shallow either. In her shock she was knocked down, dragged across the ground as a hand tore at her skirt. She screamed in defiance and fear.

Suddenly, a sword stuck out of one of the men from behind. When he fell, Yelena saw the Hound. Then she watched the other men fall just as quickly. As soon as the shock passed, she scrambled to her feet, running to Sansa. "Are you alright?" she was clearly shaken, but nodded.

Yelena looked to the Hound, who nodded. "Here." he tossed her a sword, which she gratefully took. "Now come on!" this time, she plowed through the crowd like butter, completely untouchable in her element. Sansa held onto the princess for dear life until they finally reached the keep, the doors closing behind them with a bang. She sheathed her sword then, taking in her surroundings.

Tyrion ran up to her immediately, pulling her down into a hug. "Thank the gods! Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, huffing a bit. "We're alright, thanks to Clegane. I really did miss having a sword in my hand."

Her uncle chuckled, very clearly relieved. "I'm sure you did."

"Yelena!" She was quickly engulfed in warm arms that embraced her tightly. "Oh, you're alright! What happened?? Are you hurt??"

Yelena pulled back from her mother's arms a bit uncomfortably, and certainly confused. She'd pushed her away and yet she still fawned like nothing bad had ever happened when she feared for her daughter. "I'm alright." she mumbled. Gods, people were confusing.