NOTES: I'm considering starting a series of one shots of GoT, all alternative universe.

This is my first try, with the universe of John Wick, where there are assassins and rules to follow.

It's an open ending, but I hope you enjoy anyway.

"I've found her."

Jon's eyes turned sharply to Edd. The man was standing by the door of his house, looking beyond uncomfortable.

"Where is she?" Jon demanded.

"Jon…" The other man started, worry etched on his face.

"Where is she?" Jon growled the words.

Ghost, who'd been lying by his master's side, got up and growled softly at Edd too.

"The Continental." He finally said. "Petyr Baelish took her to the Vale and put her there. She hasn't left the hotel ever since."

"Is she a prisoner there?" Jon wanted to know.

"I don't know." Edd admitted. "As far as we know… She isn't. She's been singing at the bar under the name Alayne Stone, her hair is darker, but it's her."

"How do you know?" Jon asked, his eyes hard and cold.

"Brienne of Tarth." The name meant a lot to any idiot with half a brain. "She's been looking for her as well."

"Why?"

"She made a promise to Catelyn, to find and protect the girl."

"Is she on the Vale?"

"Yes. She's staying at the Continental."

Jon was quiet for a moment and that was even more unsettling.

"Jon?" Edd called carefully.

"I'm going to the Vale." He declared.

"Jon…" Edd's voice was full of concern.

"And I'll burn down the Continental if I have to, but I'm getting Sansa back."

XxX

Jon Snow didn't know how things had gotten to that point.

The Starks were gone.

Ned. Catelyn. Robb. Rickon.

There were the ones he didn't know if were really dead: Arya, Bran and Sansa.

Well, not until yesterday.

Now he knew where Sansa was and he was getting her back.

Fuck Continental rules. He'd shoot Petyr Baelish in the middle of his eyes, in the middle of the foyer if he had to. Fuck the consequences.

The Vale was a swanky area in Paris, so it wasn't shocking to Jon that Petyr had hidden there and keeping Sansa there.

If it even was her.

Jon didn't want to get his hopes up, but he couldn't find Arya or Bran -he refused to believe they were dead -so he needed to find Sansa.

He failed the Starks when he left for Castle Black. He should've stayed and worked for them, as he'd planned at first.

Instead he chose to become an assassin and left.

Ned -the most honorable mobster Jon had ever met -had been the first to be betrayed and killed. Robb had been trying to avenge his father when he was taken down, alongside Catelyn.

Jon hadn't been there for the family that rescued him from the streets.

He'd never been as close to Sansa as he'd been from the others, but he wasn't about to let her on Petyr's hand.

Edd had reminded him that Jon didn't know if she was there against her will, but it didn't matter. Jon knew Petyr had a finger on Ned's death.

He was a dead man, anyway.

Jon stopped his rental in front of the Continental and threw the keys to one of the boys. He was about to step in, when he saw her across the road.

Brienne of Tarth.

She was leaning against the wall of the building across the street, wearing a black suit with no tie and looking directly at him.

Jon crossed the street.

"Brienne." He nodded at her.

"Jon." She nodded back. "Why are you here?"

It was a risky move, but he had to know for sure. "From what I've heard… The same reason as you."

Brienne arched a brow at him, then looked around, making sure they were alone. "I talked to her. She didn't want to come with me."

"Why?" Jon wanted to know.

"She wouldn't say. But I think she's scared of the Lannisters and thinks that Baelish can protect her better."

"They still think she killed Joffrey?" Jon asked.

"Yes." She gave him a look. "I found Arya."

Jon's heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. "Where?" He demanded.

"The last time I saw her was in Mexico, but it was a few months ago. She was with The Hound." Brienne sighed. "She didn't want to come with me."

Arya was walking around with The Hound? Why the fuck? He worked for the fucking Lannisters.

"Why is she with him?" Jon asked.

"I have no idea, but I couldn't convince her to come with me, the same way I couldn't convince Sansa." The woman seemed beyond frustrated by that.

"I should warn you…" Jon started. "I intend to get her back by any means."

Brienne arched a brow. "What about Continental rules?"

"Fuck the rules." Jon told her, deadly serious. "I know you're one of the old guard, and you think the rules are important. I'm giving you the chance to go and remove yourself from the situation."

Brienne was totally still. The code of honor of the woman was legendary; she took principles and rules seriously and Jon knew that the situation would make her uneasy.

"If you get her…" Brienne started carefully. "Where will you go after?"

"Winterfell."

She arched a brow. "The Boltons are there."

"I know. And I'm gonna kick them out of there."

She didn't look overly impressed. "You're going need help."

"Are you offering?"

She took a deep breath. "I'll check out now. See you at Winterfell, Snow."

"I'll see you there, Tarth."

XxX

Jon entered the bar and took a seat near the stage. The young man behind the counter had told him that Miss Stone would be singing that night.

Jon let his eyes take in the place and who was there. Even though the Continental was considered neutral ground and it was forbidden to conduct business in it, nothing would prevent one of them from shooting his back as soon as he stepped outside.

He saw Daario Naharis sitting alone, which was suspicious, since Jon knew he worked for Daenerys Targaryen. Ellaria Sand was also there with one of her daughters -Jon wasn't sure which one, since he'd never been actually introduced to any of them.

He arched a brow when he saw Yara Greyjoy there. Now that was surprising, especially since she was alone -if you forgot the woman on her lap.

Brienne was nowhere to be seen, but Jon saw Podrick Payne, Brienne's right hand. So she might have left, but she also wanted to keep her eyes there.

Fair enough.

Jon's eyes found Petyr Baelish sitting alone on a corner booth, his eyes already on Jon. When they locked gazes, Petyr gave him a slimy smirk and raised a glass in his direction.

Jon just nodded at the man, even if his fingers itched to press the trigger of his gun.

Then the lights on the stage went out. Jon turned his attention back there.

At first, it was only a man on the piano, but the sweet voice came, a second before the lights showed the person singing.

"You. You think you're a lion."

Jon wasn't sure if he was delirious or not. For a second, the light blinded him, and it was difficult to see the woman on the stage, but when he could…

There was a second of pure male appreciation. It caught him by surprise, as he took her shape, since the long-sleeved green dress she wore did nothing to hide it; her pale skin seemed to shine under the lights and her platinum blonde hair was side-swept in beautiful waves, falling over her left shoulder.

Her platinum blonde hair.

Jon had to blink and look again, to be sure of what he was seeing, but the color of the hair didn't change.

Blonde.

It seemed so wrong for her to have that color. That was not Sansa Stark, who was always so proud of the beautiful red shade of her hair.

Then she turned her blue eyes in his direction. Her Tully blue eyes and Jon knew: this was Sansa. It really was.

And she knew he was going to be there.

"Can you hear the sirens?" She sang, as her eyes passed him by. "I'mma put you under. Like novocaine."

Jon let his gaze take in the tables around him. If Petyr had men around they were good, because he couldn't see anyone; but Littlefinger hadn't become the manager of the Continental by leaving things to chance or by trusting others.

"Boys are like rules. They were made to be broken." Sansa's sweet voice called from the speakers.

Jon refused to call her Alayne, no matter the color of her hair. He was going to get her out of here -this night -and he dared anyone to try and stop him.

She stepped down from the stage, and sat on Yara's knee as she sang. The woman laughed and slapped her ass as Sansa moved on, touching Daario's chest and winking at some other man.

Jon felt a surge of possessiveness so strong he had to grip the table, just so he wouldn't do something stupid. Of course, he felt pretty stupid right now, just for feeling like this. Sansa had never been his to protect, even though there was a time he'd have done anything to have that honor.

It'd been just a stupid adolescent crush. He repeated this many times in the years after he left Winterfell, trying to convince himself that he'd get over the feeling.

Then he went ahead and dated a red head, then another one.

Then Sansa got engaged to Joffrey Baratheon in a desperate attempt to unite the two families. Then Ned died, then Robb, Cat, the others disappeared…

Jon was always one step behind, always finding out the dirty after the bodies were already cold. He'd been late to protect all of them.

But this ended now.

She came to him, still singing, sat on his lap as she sang that girls were like guns, and man had better run if they were smoking.

He put his hand around her waist and looked into her blues eyes. He knew his eyes were telling her she was coming with him. He made sure they did.

"Go away." She whispered to him, mic far from her mouth, a second before she slipped from him to finish her song.

She wanted him gone? Well, she'd have to tell that to his face with much more conviction than a whisper could offer.

He wasn't going anywhere without her.

XxX

Well, this night just kept getting better and better.

Apparently, he was correct on being warry of Daario's presence: he was there in name of Daenerys Targaryen. He was, also, looking for Jon.

There had been a rumor going around, saying that Jon was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen. Jon didn't care much for these rumors, it hardly made a difference to him, since his supposed father was still dead and he only felt loyal towards the Starks.

However, Daenerys had a different opinion on the matter; she wanted him to come and work for her. Or the family, as she was calling it now. Jon didn't think that one living person constituted much of a family. If she wanted to bring the Targaryens back that was her problem.

Jon was focusing on the Starks. He was getting Sansa back, then he'd look for Arya. If they were alive, maybe Bran was too.

So he kindly told Daario to fuck off. The man seemed amused by this and told Jon he'd pass the message along, but he knew Daenerys wouldn't be happy about it.

He threw his jacket on the armchair and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up. He needed to think of a plan now. What was he going to do to get Sansa out?

Then he heard the door of his room opening,

Jon turned with a gun on his hand, only to see Sansa entering his room like she owned it.

She looked passively at his gun, then at him. "And here I thought you actually wanted to see me." She commented dryly, but still came in and closed the door after herself.

Jon lowered his weapon and took a chance to look at her. She had a bottle of whiskey on her hand -something very expensive -and she wore a dress that had Jon's hands itching.

It was a wrap dress, midnight blue with silver flowers in it. It was long and flowing, but every time she moved it revealed her long legs in all their tantalizing glory. It had a plunging neckline, showing the curve of her breasts. And the only thing that held all of that together was a ribbon, tied like a bow.

If Jon pulled that… It would probably feel like opening a present. Which actually made it very suspicious. It was too easy.

Then he finally let his eyes take her face and hair. She wasn't blonde anymore. Her hair was a dark brown, almost black, pulled back on a carefully messy chignon.

"What the fuck did you do to your hair?" He demanded.

She snorted and walked to the side bar on the room. "After all this time, this is what you ask me?" She inquired as she pulled two glasses.

"It's brown, Sansa."

She arched a brow on his direction. "It's Alayne, actually. And it's Espresso, not brown." She poured drinks for both of them.

Jon came closer, his eyes on her. "You told me to leave. What are you doing here?"

She passed him a glass, then picked hers up. "I'm here to seduce and drug you, so Petyr can kill you." She informed him sweetly, clicking his glass with hers.

Jon seemed mildly amused and he watched her downing the whole glass in one go. "Is it the whiskey?"

"No." She pulled something from behind the ribbon on her waist; a small pill. "I have to put this on your glass. It dissolves and it has no taste."

Jon sipped his drink -it was a really good whiskey. "Then what?"

"Then I call Petyr, his men drag you out of here and kill you a few blocks away." She finished like she was just telling him about her plans for the weekend.

"What about Continental rules?" Jon asked, more to see her expression.

"Do you think he cares?"

Jon put his elbow on the counter that separated them. There wasn't a lot of space between them, but after all these years, it felt like a lot.

"So are you? Going to drug me?" He added when she didn't immediately answer.

She poured herself more whiskey. "Why are you here?"

"What happened to your hair?" He insisted. "It was blonde before."

She rolled her eyes. "There are those magical things, called wigs." She replied sarcastically. "Why? You liked the blonde better?"

He leaned his body until their noses were practically touching. "I like the red."

"There's no red, no Sansa. She's dead." She informed him, perfectly calm, not taking on single step back.

"Then why are you here?" He wanted to know.

Her eyes fell to his lips and Jon felt his breath hitching. "You're playing with fire." He warned her.

"No. You are." She told him, straightening herself, then taking one step back for good measure. "You're also leaving tonight."

"I'm not going anywhere without you." He informed Sansa.

She huffed. "Why are you here, Jon?"

He was confused by her question. "I thought it was obvious." He spoke.

"It isn't. Is it because you think you owe us something? Is it because of father? Do you have some fucked up sense of honor that's forcing you to be here?" She demanded, her voice rising at the end of her question.

Jon didn't even remember moving. When he realized he was holding her arm and they were face to face.

"I'm here because I want to." He growled at her. "I'm here because of you. Not your father, not your family. You."

She looked at him, her mouth parted, but no sound came out of it. Jon let her look at him, without moving or saying anything. He felt that Sansa was trying to figure him out and he'd let her, as long as she understood he was there for her.

"Jon…" She licked her lips. "This is a bad idea. Baelish has power."

"I'll worry about Littlefinger later. Just say you'll come with me."

"Where?" She wanted to know, a challenge in her voice. In her mind they had nowhere to go.

But they did. "Winterfell."

"The Boltons…"

"I'll kill them all." He assured her.

"Why?" She whispered.

"For you."

"Jon…"

"Come with me." His voice failed at the end; it was supposed to be a demand, it almost came out as begging.

"You're insane." She murmured, her breath fanning against his face.

Jon was already crazy, she'd just said it. He might as well let it go completely.

"It's all because of you." He whispered against her lips before kissing her.

He'd thought she'd freeze, that she'd push him away. She didn't; she kissed him back, bit his lips, grabbed his hair, pushed her body against his.

Sansa let him pick her up, carry her to bed; she let him undress her, let him taste her body.

Jon got lost on her taste, on the feel of her. He never wanted to be found again.

XxX

When Jon opened his eyes again, he was alone on the bed. He touched the side Sansa had slept on, and the sheets were cold, so she had left a while ago.

The sun was just rising, the sky starting to brighten. He pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes, willing himself to wake up completely.

The room was empty and dark.

Jon pulled his pants on, looking around. Sansa had left at some point, but he didn't want to think about what that could mean. He was still alive, so she hadn't betrayed him…

Had she?

No, she hadn't. She wouldn't. They were going home together, she had said so.

Jon walked into the bathroom, only to find one page of the hotel's stationery left on the sink.

I convinced Littlefinger to have breakfast with me on the terrace on the penthouse.

There's a building across the street with perfect view to it. And it's obviously not Continental ground.

How good of a shot are you?

S.

Jon smirked. He was one of the best snipers in Europe.

They were going home.

Sansa could be a Stark again. They'd get Winterfell back. They'd destroy everyone that got in their way.

N/A: The song Sansa's singing is from the tv show Wynonna Earp. It's called "Girls are like guns" and it's beautifully sung by the always amazing Dominique Provost-Chalkley. Check it out later.

I was thinking of going with Supernatural next.
What do you guys thinks?

Let me know your feelings!

Cheers!