Obviously I don't own anything, or else a lot would be so different, but I'm thankful for the characters we have. Might be a one shot but I do have more story coming.

When the dragon burst into shards, Jon knew someone had managed the impossible, he assumed that maybe Theon got a lucky shot, or the dagger he had seen Sansa thrust into Brans hands had come in handier than he could have thought possible. He only took but a moment to himself to sit and breath, the legends had been true, it was an exceptionally long night, at parts too dark that it almost felt as if the light in the world had been sucked into a vast pit never to return. With a final deep breath, he staggered to his feet and waded through the bodies, seeing many faces he knew and many many faces he didn't, it felt almost too surreal.

Hearing a whimper to his left, Jon stooped and started digging through the bodies, to find a young man, maybe not even 16 years old buried at the bottom, he seemed fine over all, just scraps and a few heat burns from being so near the ice dragon's fire.

It seemed like at that moment, some of the many piles around him and the young kid started moving, Jon's grip on his sword strengthened, wondering if it had just been a fluke, that maybe, the Night King had tricked them into a false sense of security so he could thoroughly crush them. But it just turned out to be other survivors. Apparently when the ice dragon had landed, the call went out to shroud themselves under the bodies of those already killed, both wight and those who had once been the living.

When Jon was able to focus his eyes a bit better, be it because of the sudden dawn beginning to filter in, or the tears Jon had been holding in for so long finally escaping, he didn't know. All Jon could feel was relief, that not everyone had died in vain, that there were still living, and though they would be haunted the rest of their days, there was still a group living. Looking around, more men than he thought possible a few moments ago stood all looking towards the east where the sunlight was already painting the sky, most, if not all of the men and women who had taken up arms, had tears on their faces, be it from relief, sorrow, disbelief that they lived, or something else, Jon didn't know.

The creaking of a door behind him shook him out of his momentary revere. A voice made his spine straighten "Well witch, it looks like your senses were right. Now, where did you send the icy little bitch, she had better be alive, or you'll wish one of these fuckers had gotten to you after all." Jon turned towards the voice, it had been Clegane, he was holding his axe threateningly towards the red woman.

She didn't speak, just turned her head slowly towards the large man and then tucked her chin towards her chest in the direction of the Godswood. Clegane growled and moved quicker than Jon could think possible for a man so large. Until he also understood where the witch had been gesturing towards. The Godswood. Bran.

Taking off at almost a dead sprint, Jon ran, sword forgotten, leaping and attempting but failing to maneuver around the dead, in the end having to run over the back of the bodies littering the ground. Skidding to a halt at the front of the entrance, Jon could see a body lying in front of a telling pile of ice. Fear made his blood run colder than he thought possible almost making it impossible to breath. It wasn't until he approached closer that he saw the face of the body. Theon. Jon felt a sob escape him. Even though they had had their differences, he was still a brother to Jon, it hurt more than he thought possible to see him there, sea green eyes still staring ahead. There was a ringing in his ears, everything seemed to get fuzzy around his vision, the only thing he could focus on being Theon laying there with unseeing eyes.

Vaguely he heard voices from somewhere around him, but Jon could barely breath at this point, much less think clearly enough to understand the words being said around him. One voice cut through it all though, clear as day "It was Arya." Bran's voice cut through the haze surrounding Jon's mind. Bran. Bran was alive.

It took a moment, but Jon was finally able to focus his brain on the words themselves. Arya. Jon felt his breath leave his body completely, his entire body felt like his heart had stopped beating. ARYA. His brain yelled at him, to move to do something. Adrenaline burned his veins, when Jon looked up, he wasn't by Theon's body anymore, instead staring at Bran and Sandor as they looked at the ground. Slowly his head tilted to see what they saw. There, next to a lone pile of ice laid out on her back, was Arya.

Walking forward, his knees buckled and he landed next to his little sister, fear crushing him, distress at having almost forgotten about her ran through him. Looking down, he could see her breath, eyes closed, blood coated one side of her face.

He reached forward to touch, but before he landed a finger on her, her eyes popped open at the same time as her hand clutched his wrist, he couldn't move, so struck with something he couldn't even name. She recognized him before he was able to gather his wits again. Slowly moving her hand to meet his, she held on. Sitting up to look him in the eye, they made eye contact, and then she was in his arms, knocking him back onto his ass, he settled her in his lap as they just held one another.

Jon vaguely heard Sandor in the background say something along the lines of "I knew that icy bitch would live." he vaguely saw a motion out of the corner of his eye in which Bran looked towards the large man with a look of disbelief, but ignored it. Jon didn't care for the words, but it would have taken too much energy to argue them, so he just held onto his Arya a little while longer.