Jon Snow & Sansa Stark - Game of Thrones Fanfiction

A Cinderella Story

"Sansa!" Ramsay's voice echoed through the kitchen. "Where are you?" His heavy footsteps filled the loaded air and Sansa straightened her back and lifted her chin.

"Here..." She closed the oven and wiped her red hair from her face. Her apron was covered in flour and sugar and soaked in water and milk. To hide her black eye she was wearing her sunglasses. It was also because of the black eye that she was now working in the kitchen instead of in the restaurant.

"Myranda went home ill. We need your help."

"Me?" Sansa cocked her head. "Right now?" She raised her eyebrows, even though Ramsay wouldn't be able to see that. "I look like shit!"

"You always do, honey." Ramsay grabbed her wrist and his nails pierced her delicate pale skin. "That's why you're a waitress and not a model." He smiled. "You can take table four. He's wearing sunglasses too. You'll simply look like a kindred soul to him." He pulled Sansa to the door and there he placed a hand on her behind to push her into the restaurant. "Go on. Be sweet and nice."

Sansa rolled her eyes. She was tired of being sweet and nice. Tired of being touched by his dirty hands in places where no one should touch her. She was even more tired of seeing the restaurant that had once belonged to her father and older brother wither away. And there was nothing she could do about it.

"What can I get you?" Sansa smiled at the lonely boy, wearing a hat and a pair of sunglasses.

He had not even bothered to take off his winter jacket.

"The soup of the day is tomato soup. But I'd not advice that. The tomatoes were already rotten when they arrived."

The boy looked up and his lips curled up into a slight smile. "I just need a coffee."

Sansa's heart skipped a beat in her chest and all her muscles froze. She knew that voice.

What was he doing here? Had he figured it out? Had he discovered that she was the mystery princess he had been looking for? But he should have stopped that search! He was engaged now. Engaged to a beautiful young princess with white hair that reached her lower back even when it was braided in a complicated pattern.

"We have cappuccino, latte, decaf and fair trade." Although the last one was no longer fair trade. Nothing Ramsay Bolton did was fair. Sansa's voice trembled a little and she tried to steady her hand.

"Everything but the decaf." Prince Jon smiled and Sansa felt a shiver rolling down her spine.

"I'll get you a latte then." She turned around and rushed to the coffee machine to give her restless hands something to do. She tried to focus om her breathing. In and out. In and out. But her heart kept on racing in her chest and the adrenaline rushed through her veins.

Three weeks ago she had been dancing in his arms at the royal ball. For the first time in a very long while she had smiled and meant it. And for the first time in a very long while she had felt pretty and beautiful. Of course, she had not planned to dance with the prince. She had for sure not planned to dance and talk with him all evening. And she had most of all not planned to fall in love with him, even though there was no chance of them ever ending up together.

He was a prince. She was a simple waitress.

When she had come home and Ramsay had figured out that their cook Brienne had gotten her the dress, tiara, make up and most of all the invitation, he had been more furious that she had ever seen him before. And even though most of the wounds were healed right now, he had hit her once more every time the poor prince had mentioned her on national television.

But even if she had gotten only that one night, that one night of pleasure, of being beautiful, of being talked to, of being loved, it had been worth it.