authorsnote: so I have been knocking around with this idea for a while, I wanted this pairing, with a twist to the story, and to try something I haven't seen done a whole lot. I'll discuss more about my motivation in the end note. This is an idea I've kind of put out there, and if people enjoy it/I get a good response I'll be taking it forward, I already have 10+ chapters mapped out, so i'm ready to go! please let me know what you think, and if you did enjoy please follow/fav, I would seriously love to hear everyones thoughts.

songrecommendations: leave the light on - tom walker

if you look into the distance,

theres a house upon the hill,

guiding like a lighthouse,

it's a place where you'll be safe to feel our grace

...

"This will work"

Famous last words one might say. When was the last time anyone had said, those words preceding something that actually worked? When was the last time those words had ended in jubilation and success? Not despair and misery? When was the last time he had said those words only to be met with disappointment?

It had been her idea, as most of their plans were. Jon was no fool, he was good at killing, he was good at war, at strategy and tactics, he was good at leading men into battle and duelling with opponents. But she was the politician, she was the one to plan and map out their future, she was the one to always see the best way forward and execute their plans. He happily deferred to her on those matters, and in all fairness, it had worked out for them both so far ... which begged the question as to why they were doing this, if everything had worked or ... why were they trying this? Why fix something that seemingly wasn't broken?

Yet it was for so many reasons, so many reasons they had communicated to one another. It had all started one night, about two months ago, when they had been sat in front of the fire, bowls of soup warm in their hands; just as it had been when they had reunited. She had his cloak around her shoulders and was snuggled into it, winter was biting, even for them, and the fire had provided little relief. And so, they had snuggled close together, warming one another, her breath warm on his neck, his fingers dancing over her shoulder, and spoke of times long gone, as they often did.

She had spoke of their time as children, when she had snuck into the kitchen to steal lemon cakes and Uncle had caught her with a barely contained smile. He had spoke of their time as teenagers, sparring with Robb and running around with Bran. She had spoke fondly of the rare times she and Arya had gotten along, he had spoken of when Rickon had been born and they had all promised to protect the youngest of the pack. So many memories, so many beautiful memories they reminisced upon time and time again. They had spoken of finding the Direwolfs, of Lady and Ghost, the latter curled at their feet, the former long gone. After that the nostalgia had come to a pause; it seemed everything after that day had gone wrong. Everything after the King had come to Winterfell had ended in utter misery, and there had been no turning back from that point on, a point that had almost defined the Stark family, in scattering the pack for good.

"I wish we could go back" She had said gently, tears biting at her eyes then, he could see the sapphire orbs glisten, and if he was the kind to cry he would have been right there with her, only he hadn't cried in years, he could still feel her sorrow, as it was his own too.

"Me too" He had responded before putting his arm around her and placing a kiss to her forehead. They had held onto one another tightly for a few moments, before she had spoke, her tears suddenly gone, and instead the look of passionate belief in her eyes that quite frankly unsettled him appeared. The look that often preceded some scheme of hers, a look he had long become used to and yet still made him feel uneasy.

"What if we could go back?" She had said, her entire face alight then, a look of sheer hope on her face that he had not seen in a very, very long time. His own expression had been wary, confused ... what was she talking about?

"Sansa, what do you...?" He had started the question but then she had stood in a whirl to her feet, his cloak dropping to the floor, leaving her in only her white nightgown, but she either hadn't felt the cold or managed to ignore it... how he was unsure, but he did know Sansa, he knew when she set her mind to something she was a force to be reckoned with, and wouldn't be stopped, no matter the circumstance. Often he didn't argue with her on such points, but now? He frankly had no idea what to say, or what she was getting at.

"Jon, after everything we've seen, everything we've faced?" It was then he twigged where she was going with this, and he too stood to his feet to take her hands in his, to stop her getting carried away with herself, to try and calm her from this ludicrous thought she'd concocted. He could understand it, of course he could, but it didn't make it any less unlikely. "Are you telling me this isn't possible?!"

"Sansa" He had heard the condescending tone to his voice as he said it and had winced at the sound, "Some things are out of our reach, some things ... they just can't be done" To their dismay, many things were out of reach for them.

"But can you tell me Jon, can you tell me point blank this can't be done? After everything we've seen? Dead mean rising? You coming back from the dead? Giants and the Children and all manner of creatures?! And you're saying this is out of reach?" She had asked, her face almost crazed, and yet he knew why ... what she was asking to be done, it was something they had dreamed about, something that if could be accomplished would be worth every sacrifice to do so. He too had felt a flare of hope, but as an eternal pessimist had been too unsure to display it or even let it grow.

"No but Sansa ... it sounds impossible, completely and utterly impossible" He had tried to be gentle, not wanting to upset her and yet having to remind of her reality.

And yet she had seemed unperturbed, not even slightly shaken by his words, "Sounds impossible Jon, not is impossible" And then she had planted a kiss on his cheek before hurrying off. He had followed, grabbing his own cloak off the floor to take to her. The castle had been dead at that time of night so she needn't worry about anyone seeing her, but the cold was bad enough to sting. So he had followed her, to the library, where they had stayed all night researching, and had done so the next night and the night after. He wasn't sure how she'd convinced him, and yet he had become as committed as she.

For months, they had survived on minimal sleep, running their Kingdom during the day and then researching at night. Most nights they fell asleep in one another's arms but with books still strewn over their bed. They sifted through forgotten tombs and scrolls in High Valyrian (thankfully Jon was proficient enough), they wrote pages of notes and throughout it remained with the same attitude. Sansa with her continued hope, and Jon with his thinly veiled cynicism and yet sense of quiet hope himself. Initially Jon hadn't entertained the idea, and yet Sansa's eternal optimism had stuck with him, and each night though he convinced himself he was doing this for her, he too had become enthralled with the idea.

Now they had become transfixed on the idea they couldn't bare to let it go. And so the research had continued night after night, they shouldered the responsibilities of the day, and then at night dedicated themselves to their research. It was crazy, this had all come from an errant thought and yet they had dedicated themselves to it fully, as though this were their lives purpose. The idea of it, the hope was too much to give up on, even with each book producing nothing, and each plan down the drain, they continued to hope ... and then finally two months earlier Sansa had hit a thought.

"What if what we want isn't in a book?" Sansa had said aloud one night in the library, it had been a weary day at court, and Jon had near been falling asleep over an ancient Valyrian scroll on patterns of time, when Sansa had spoken and he had looked across at her. If anyone could rouse him from near slumber it was Sansa.

"What do you mean?" He had asked, his accent thick with tiredness. He had felt ready to drop, and yet though months of little sleep may have been catching up with him he wasn't ready to give up, not yet, not after they'd committed so much time. They had seen some promising accounts, and that drove them forward. With each night, they felt as though they were getting closer, and that kept them going, that kept them up each night researching, trying and hoping.

"What if we need to find someone who knows of this? Not rely on books?" She said, her face almost inquisitive in her idea. He too knew he looked puzzled for a moment - find someone? Who could possibly harness the power of what they wished to do? Who could possibly hold such celestial abilities?

He had felt his blood run almost cold then, as it always did when he thought of her and what she had done for him. He would never regret what she did, he would never hold her in contempt for it, but he knew it hadn't been normal; he hadn't felt quite right since. Yes, he was himself, but not whole, never again; as though a part of him had been chiseled away when he had been pulled back from wherever he had been. It had been she who had done so, she who had returned him to this world from the place of darkness he had entered upon his death. And if she had been capable of that ... well could she be capable of what they hoped to achieve?

It wasn't out of the realm of possibilities, was it? And as soon as he had mentioned this to Sansa her eyes had lit up, renewed with a fresh hope that had been dwindling; as though they had never given up and had constantly felt as though they were getting closer ... it wasn't easy; each week passing without results. But then, this had been a new lead, a new way forward, and as soon as he suggested it she had set to work writing the raven scroll to the southern court, and an hour later the raven had flown; inviting the red witch to the northern court.

She had happily headed the call, and a month later they had laid out their proposal to her. His Hand had protested at her coming to their court but Jon, now at least competent at diplomacy had soothed his worries. And so, they had discussed with her for a while, laying out all possibilities. They had been uplifted that she had heard of such magic's, but could not perform them herself. It had been a start, it had been something, and that had triggered the next stage of their journey.

And that had led them here.

Weeks of consulting with those across the sea, weeks of securing items, of working everything out and finally they were here, in front of the ancient Weirwood tree of the Winterfell Godswood, dressed in black, everything in place.

It had seemed ludicrous now they were here and yet as they had joined hands, hers shaking and his steady they knew this was their shot, this was their chance. They had worked for the better part of a year towards this, the chance to change things, the chance to turn back the clock. And now they were here and she uttered those words.

"This will work"

And though he should have responded with something positive he couldn't help but blurt out the words he had been thinking for weeks, the thoughts that had been biting at the back of his mind since she had convinced him to start down this path. It had been annoying him for weeks on end, eating at him and yet he hadn't said a word, not wanting to upset her, but now? Now they were here, at the end of the journey? He couldn't hold back his thoughts.

"But should it?"

He watched as she but down on her lip, evidently she had thought the same and yet she spoke without any doubt, "This is what we've been working for, this is what we wanted, to turn back the clock"

"But what if we forget? What if we go back and we're not us anymore? We don't remember this future? She said ... it's a possibility, what if the possibility comes true?" He asked in almost a whisper, "What if you go back to looking at me with contempt? What if I go back to not speaking to you? What if ..." He paused then, his real worry that had been eating at him finally coming out, "What if you marry someone else?"

And then her face softened and she walked to him, still clutching his hand. She was within an inch of him, and her lips brushed against his for a mere moment, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings, "That will not happen, we will remember, we will change things, that is why we are doing this. We will remember, we will change things" She paused then to give him a proper kiss, and he felt his worries melt away at both her words and her touch, "And I will always be yours"

"Always" He repeated back to her, and he felt a hint of a smile pull at her lips, and his expression mirrored hers. She waited, waited for him to nod, as he did, and then they turned back to the Weirwood tree, clutching each others hands so tightly they were almost one, it was time.

The hour struck midnight, and he was the one to pick up the device, to cut first his hand and then hers and run their blood over this device ... this device that had cost them far too much and yet not enough if it did as promised. He didn't wince at the cut on his hand, she did hers, and he wished to soothe her, but could not. Instead they joined both hands over the device, closed their eyes, and took a deep breath. This was it, this was the moment, as the minute struck midnight.

"Here we go" Her voice was gentle, and he nodded his head, opening his eyes to see if it had worked, if anything had changed. And yet he saw the same Sansa staring back at him, the same woman who'd become his wife just a year ago, and he almost sagged with disappointment. It hadn't worked. She too looked ready to cry, it had failed, this was it, and it had failed.

But then her expression changed to one of wonder, of horror, of both mixed together, and he saw why. The world around them was crumbling, as though made into ash, and falling apart. She dove into his arms and he pulled her close, shielding her from the site of their home, of the world falling apart. Did this mean it was working? As he dropped to his knees, still holding her close he wasn't sure, he could only close his eyes as the darkness that had consumed everything but them advanced on them. He hoped it had worked, it was all he could do hope, as he closed his eyes, and the darkness took them both.

so ... thoughts?

now, this idea was one born of wanting to do time travel, where those sent back would be aware of it, and wanting to find a way to justify it in this world whilst keeping it mysterious. so far we don't know how they were sent back, but yes I already know how they were and it will be found out later down the line, for now however it's a mystery!

so what do we think? hopefully you enjoy! as you can see this fic will very clearly be jon/sansa (don't even start with people saying its incest), but other pairings will be involved. this will be a dark fic, with more intertwined magic into the world of thrones, the future will change but not necessarily for the best, but you'll see that as we go along! hopefully you're onboard! we will also get flashbacks to the future jon and sansa are leaving behind, it will explain their relationship and what drove their desire to go back (because yes its more than reuniting the family), but we will focus mainly on the new future going forward, with how jon/sansa struggle to adjust to being young again, and how they can try and change the future!

if you enjoyed please let me know via reviews, they are like crack to me. please follow/fav if you want to stay updated, and please check out my other asoiaf fics! and i'll see you soon, honestly I'm so eager on this story I've already got chapter two written, and I'm halfway through chapter three :3

xoxo