The cry from the guard tower compels him out of the room, away from the angry words he and Edd have only just exchanged. With Longclaw in his hand, he steps away from Edd and pushes out the door onto the top of the stairs that lead down to the center courtyard. It's begun to snow again, harder than ever before, the temperature gone down so much that even just to breathe in causes an ache in your chest. Jon blinks, staring out at the three riders that have ridden through the gate of Castle Black.

He dares not believe it is who he thinks it is. He cannot begin to believe it's her that now slides down from the saddle, the thinnest of cloaks wrapped around her shoulders. But that vivid red hair... He would know it anywhere, even now, so many years later. The breath catches in his throat when she turns, finally catching sight of him there on the top of the stairs. Her sapphire eyes are piercing, even from such a distance, and Jon is compelled to throw Longclaw into Edd's hands and begin to make his way down the icy steps. In this very courtyard, only days, no hours, before, he'd been murdered by his own brothers, left to die in the snow for doing what he had thought was right. Now, alive again, in a world he no longer understands, in a world that has felt dark and bleak since his eyes opened again... Suddenly, he feels a purpose again. Suddenly, there is meaning in life again.

The fears she had once felt about Jon not wanting to see her fade away the moment their eyes catch. He looks at her as if he's seen a ghost, and in truth, she is barely more than that. But in that moment, when he's looking at her, they're both kids again. He's wrestling with Robb in the courtyard of Winterfell, while Arya cheers him on. In that moment, he's been partnered with her in their dance lessons and she can't help but to tease him the first time he goes an entire dance without stepping on her toes. In that moment, they were safe and warm at home, with their family. In that moment, they were happy.

But then she blinked and remembered that was just the past. Robb was gone, Arya was gone... Bran and Rickon were not certainly dead, but lost to them all the same. And their father... Her mother... They were all gone.

They were all but ghosts, just as she had become.

Every step brings him closer to where she stands, the wind pulling at her hair, at her clothes. Standing so close, he can see she's thin, can see the pallor of her cheeks. It takes his breath away, the sight of her there, so broken down, so unlike the sister he recalls from childhood. What's happened to you, he wonders to himself as he takes only a single step closer, the breath rushing from his lungs in a cloud of white. The snow continues to fall around them but suddenly, he can't feel the cold.

Her name is there on the tip of his tongue but emotion chokes him. It's only a moment later that he's opening his arms as she's rushing into them, the momentum of his embrace sweeping her off her feet. He can hear her sharp intake of breath a moment before she's nuzzling her face into his neck, desperate for warmth, desperate for the touch of someone who loves her. Jon holds fast to her, realizing now that she's in his arms just how thin she's become, just how cold she must truly be.

The embrace lasts for what could have been hours, for time seemed to have stopped entirely the moment she was in his arms. But now that he's put her back onto her own two feet, with his arms at her hips, the world springs back into action. She is dead on her feet, he realizes then, noting not just the paleness of her cheeks but the dark rings that circle her blue eyes. It is only his touch that keeps her standing. Over her shoulder, he meets gazes with the woman knight she's rode in with, and unspoken words fall between them. "Let's get you inside," he finally speaks, turning his gaze back to Sansa. She gives a small nod and with his arm slung around her, he helps her through the quiet courtyard and towards the stairs he's only just come down.

Once inside, he draws her to the chair nearest the fire and gently pushes her down onto it. Across the room, his own furs are laying across the back of another chair and so he reaches for them and returns to her side, draping them over her shoulders without a single word. She murmurs her thanks and clutches them closer, her shivering much more apparent now. He drags a chair up and settles it beside hers, sitting himself down only a moment later.

For what feels like an eternity, there is nothing but the crackle of the logs in the fireplace. But then... She speaks. "I was afraid you'd not want to see me," she says softly, turning her blue eyes down, staring at the floor beneath her feet. When Jon reaches for her hand, she jumps, startled, and the gaze that meets his is one full of fear. Suddenly, he's understanding. Suddenly, he's angry. But he pushes the anger away, despite how badly it wants to seep into his bones. It vanishes entirely when she clings to his hand, her fears fading with his anger as he places his other hand over hers. "I didn't know where else to go."

"I'll take care of you," he replies, swallowing against the rising tide of emotions within him. He feels like a ship tossed from side to side on the sea, he feels like a lost man who finally sees the light at the end of a dark tunnel. Her smile is that light.

"He said you would."

"Who?" Jon blinks and her little chuckle is almost enough to undo him.

"Theon."

That is a name he's not thought of in years- Theon Greyjoy, raised among the Stark children as Ned's ward, though he had always been distant with him. Bastard, he had called him, rather than by his name. "Theon...?" Jon asks and Sansa looks away, a new look falling into place on her features. A sad look that he knows comes straight from her heart. He wonders what's more surprising... That she's been with Theon, or that deep down Theon might be a good man.

"He said he would have died to get me to you, I'm only here because of him." She speaks quietly, staring down at their tangle of hands resting upon her thigh. Jon's hand is warm against hers and she never wants to let go. She closes her eyes against the rush of emotion coursing through her and as if he senses it, Jon gives her hand a gentle squeeze. When she finally looks back up, Jon's eyes are misty and her heart skips a beat. "Warm..." She murmurs then, realizing only in that moment that the deep set cold she once felt has begun to dissipate. "You're warm."

Only a short while ago, Edd had asked him what he intended on doing now, after all that had happened, after being brought back to life. Get warm, had been his answer, but he had meant it in an entirely different way. But now... Everything had changed, everything was different... All because she sat there in front of him. "I'll keep you warm," he says softly and she smiles, surprising him a moment later when she leans in, head against his shoulder.

When someone finally dares to enter the room, it's Brienne, with Edd hovering behind her looking uncertain at interrupting. As they close the door behind them, Jon raises a single finger to his lips before he gestures down at Sansa, who with her head still against his shoulder, sleeps peacefully. Unbeknownst to him, this is her first peaceful sleep in years. Truly.

It is as he said, he would take care of her, he would keep her warm.

Even if it was just like this.