Promise Me
By Myriddin
A slight AU where Jon was raised at Wintefell as Brandon's bastard instead of Ned's.
The sun was beginning to set outside the confines of the keep, its disappearing glow dimmed by the velvet curtains drawn over the window. She didn't startle when the light was suddenly obscured by a lean silhouette, instead watching as the curtains fluttered and his shadow was cast in a myriad of different directions. His head of dark hair appeared a moment later and he slid quietly through the window- the boy they both called little brother was not the only one capable of climbing the stone walls of their ancestral home.
He was silent as he approached the bed she was reclined on, his face solemn as ever as he knelt beside her. Sansa offered him a soft smile as she sat up and reached to touch his face.
He leaned into her hand, reverently kissing her palm. He let his lips linger, trailing them to her wrist, and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the steady fluttering he found there. Her pulse quickened, indicating of the way her heart began to pick up in response to him. She grasped his shoulders and she pulled, urging him closer. He obeyed, as they both knew he always would, Sansa lying back as her cousin settled atop of her.
He pressed a kiss to her neck, and her lips fluttered in a soundless moan. He kissed the same spot again, trailing upward to the corner of her mouth. He lifted his head, looking down at her, and opened his mouth to speak. He never had the chance, as she placed a finger on his lips and shook her head. She knew what he wanted to say, but words weren't necessary.
Their gazes met, a question in his, the answer in hers, all lying within the linking of river-blue to winter-gray. The words were there for them both, a silent, defeated whisper that lingered in the air between them: I tried to stay away, to not give in. I tried, but I can't anymore.
She nodded and he leaned forward to press his lips to hers. Sweet and whisper-soft, he just barely brushed against her, but the warmth blossoming inside of them both was far from simple. They drew back, resting their foreheads together. Not a soul would approve, she knew, a highborn maiden in love with her bastard cousin. She could imagine her father's frown, her mother's tears, but she couldn't bring herself to care. And how could he stay away when she had been so quickly promised to another, when she was vulnerable to the ugliness he had glimpsed beneath Joffrey Baratheon's golden veneer?
She knew more than he thought, for the past few years of Jon's quiet love and support had guided her from naive girl to maturing young woman. She could see the falsehood in Joffrey, and wondered how she was ever supposed to trade the warmth and familiarity of Jon's love for an arrogant princeling with sharp smiles and hidden cruelty.
Their eyes locked, an unspoken sentiment passed between them, and promises were sealed.
With a soft sigh, Sansa pressed her mouth back to his, and all thought was gone in favor of sensation. At least for a short time, things in their world could feel right again, as long as they held each other close.