.

.

Stumbling in the glow of the fires and peeks of bright white sunlight, Jon abandons Longclaw, throwing his arms around Sansa.

Daenerys watches them with a quivery, sorrowful expression, all of her pretty white furs grimed and caked with dark soot.

"Thank the gods," he wheezes out, smudging ash and dirt into her bright orange hair. Jon's fingers scramble to hold her. Sansa inhales a soft and whimpery noise into Jon's neck, tightening her arms round him. After a long, intense moment, beneath the noises of agony from injured men and castle-stones heating apart, he pulls away. "Where's Arya, Sansa? I can't find Bran."

Flowery blue eyes widen.

"What do you mean you can't find Bran?" Sansa asks, terrified. "Arya isn't here—"

"I went to the godswood. There's no—"

"Jon…" Daenerys interrupts, drawing their attention. She nods towards the road's clearing between the granary and crypt's entrance. Arya, her skin blotched and sweaty under the film of wight-blood, emerges behind the group of smallfolk, wheeling Bran in front of her. Sansa yells for Bran the instant Jon yells for Arya. They hurry around what remains of the Dothraki.

Bran, of course, doesn't react to Sansa's hug. He only pats her back lightly. Jon grasps the side of Arya's face, kissing her brow and then doing the same to Bran. "I almost thought I lost both of you," he rasps, smiling so fiercely Jon's teeth expose.

"Thought the same," Arya says, glancing mindfully in Bran's direction.

"What happened to the Night King? Did you see it, Bran?" Jon asks, knelt down in the muddied snow. "What did you do?"

"… I didn't do anything."

Sansa glances down on him, her eyes narrowing in confusion when Bran's dulled voice lifts.

"What?" she murmurs.

"I did." Arya deftly tugs out the catspaw, its Valyrian steel glinting in the light. She holds it out to Jon, as if a knight would regally present out their sword for a king's blessing. "Like you said… I stuck him with the pointy end," Arya says, cocking an eyebrow.

"You did what?"

"Arya…" Jon stares awestruck, as much as Sansa who spoke and Daenerys, as Arya's lips split into a beautiful, lively grin. He then bursts out laughing. Jon grabs her by the waist and spins them, hearing Arya's own laughter echoing into his right ear.

They're all alive and whole after the fighting. That's what Jon truly needed.

.

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GoT isn't mine. Requested by glove23 and Guest: "Platonic Stark reunion after Episode 3 and Daenerys. They find out Arya killed the Night King and everyone's reactions." I rushed this one out since it's the best time to post for it but I'll still be posting something else! Thanks for reading this and I hope you love it!

((Want a request for GoT? I'm doing 100-500 word drabbles of any ship + any prompt until S8 ends. Rules: you need to comment here and provide a ship and prompt, as well if you want NSFW or SFW. The only requests I'll be looking at is if you ALSO commented about the fic you just read as well. It's only fair. You came to this fic to read it and me doing something for you later on is a sweet bonus!))