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Sansa couldn't seem to stop staring at her lap.
Anything, anything, would be better. It would be better if she screamed, Daenerys thinks. A look to her nephew sees him grinding his teeth, clenching and unclenching his sword hand. If only Sansa would speak out, Dany would find another suitor. She would stop this silly proposal, if only Jon would ask. But Eddard Stark had raised his children better than that, it seemed. So Jon clenched his noble jaw-damn him-and Sansa stared at her lap and neither said a word.
Daenerys takes a sip of wine, to clear her throat of the rancid taste this business has left in her mouth, and dismisses her nephew.
"Lady Stark," Dany begins, "Don't look so defeated. Your children will be my heirs. Your sons will be kings and princes."
Sansa looks up at Dany and smiles thinly. "Just so, Your Grace. Just as I've always dreamed."
But her voice is hollow as she says the words.
They are married in a week.
Jon Snow is not a passionate man.
Sansa knows this. But still, she'd thought that her wedding night would have forced him to be. He seemed almost pained when he was thrown into their chambers by giggling girls, stripped to his smallclothes. He's here for the same reason (mostly) as she is-they want to go home. But even more so, Jon wants to help Sansa go home. Because otherwise, without his help, she will be shepherded off to the next Lord who looks her way.
But that is no need for the discomfort she sees in his eyes now.
She's heard Queens Daenerys tease him before. "Jon Snow!" the queen had admonished, calling him by his bastard name affectionately, "Why, I must say that you blush like a maid! I'd think you were, if I did not know otherwise!"
Sansa knows she is not the first. Mayhaps not even the second. But she is sure, with the honor that Ned Stark had installed in Jon, that she will be the last. Even if his life is unhappy to the end.
So she waits on the bed, and sees Jon steeling himself, as if readying for a swordfight.
"Sansa," he starts, and it is with such hesitancy that she almost laughs. Instead she steels herself as well, and makes her face unmovable, like ice.
"Come to the bed, my Prince. It's much warmer here."
She knows this is the wrong thing to say by the look on his face.
But still, he comes.
Jon knows he has a duty to fulfill, same as her.
And they do. It's not as unpleasant as Sansa thought it would be when she considered being bedded by one who, until a year ago, was her "half-brother". It doesn't hurt, exactly, but there is a certain warmth missing, one that Sansa thought she'd have in her marriage, back when she was a girl. And then it is done. She is a woman wedded and bedded.
Too bad it looked like Jon had a terrible time of it.
When they are back in Winterfell, Jon barely visits Sansa's chambers.
Their chambers are side by side, but he still avoids her touch like a plague. They are amiable, and work together restoring the North, as a lady and lord of Winterfell should act. But there is nothing that Sansa can do-or wants to really- to get her husband within her chambers. Truthfully, she isn't quite sure they should upset the balance they have now, as partners rather than lovers.
Still, her handmaids can't seem to act normally around her lord husband, and it comes to Sansa's attention that Jon is apparently considered very, very handsome.
Sansa doesn't think she knows what that means anymore.
He's visited her chambers three times since the wedding, and they have been married more than a year now. Sansa doesn't really mind the bedding. Jon tries to make it pleasurable for her, but Sansa cannot shake the feeling that it is wrong to have someone so close, not after she spent years throwing them away. Still, when he does come, she will not refuse him.
People whisper.
The whispers are what brings the Dragon Queen to court.
Sansa admits, she does not make the best, most welcoming wife to her husband. But she still is the Lady of Winterfell. But she's been forgetting something about the arrangement she and Jon have.
She needs to give heirs to the throne. And she has a desperate feeling that this is why the Queen has come.
Daenerys comes to visit at just the right time. Jon nearly laughs when he sees Drogon circling the air. She's sent no notice, and Jon is sure that she hasn't even told her people in King's Landing that she's left, leaving the ruling to Aegon.
But Jon is happy nonetheless.
"Jon, my darling nephew!" Dany shouts when she lands. The people of Winterfell shy away from the dragon. "I have missed you!"
Screwing proper conduct, Dany marches past his guard and the procession and embraces Jon. He laughs, almost, and hugs her back.
To Jon's left is Sansa, who is quiet at the exchange.
It surprises Jon that she's barely spoken since seeing the dragon. Sansa, although more of a sister than wife truthfully, has never lacked for words unless you count the bedchamber, where she was stoic and quiet.
She's nervous now, though. Why, he can't say.
Dany hugs Sansa next, earning a confused look to flicker across Sansa's face, but she composes herself.
"I've been flying for three days to come see you, Jon Snow-Targaryen. It's time you showed me your blasted North from a Lord's seat, not a battle tent. But first, I need food. Flying is hard work."
Jon chuckles at that and allows Dany to grab his arm.
They feast in Jon's solar.
Despite Sansa's earlier suggestion that Queen Dany might be more comfortable with a feast, Jon had asked for a feast for three to be set in his solar.
"She will want a quiet talk," Jon reasoned. "She likes to catch up."
It irks Sansa that Jon calls the queen "Dany" and that he seems to know so much about her. It's not Dany that Jon grew up with, is it?
Her chest hurts now.
It started when Jon had hugged Dany in the yard. All this time, Sansa had avoided touching him. He seemed uncomfortable with their marriage, and didn't touch her much either.
It hurt more when she saw him laugh.
Jon has never laughed for her. At least, not since they've been married.
Did he ever laugh with her?
Sansa's head hurts.
She is in her third cup of wine, when she usually stops after one, and the Queen turns to her, and says, "Well, Jon, I'm sure you and Sansa are working diligently on making an heir to the Iron Throne."
That's all it takes. Jon's easygoing attitude goes out the window, and Sansa pours another cup.
"Yes," she answers, looking at the Queen, "quite diligently. You needn't worry, Your Grace, the realm will have an heir."
The Queen looks surprised, but smiles thinly at Sansa, a smile that widens when she turns to Jon, who has become a block of ice.
"Good, then."
Jon asks her if he may join her in her chambers later that evening.
Sansa wants to refuse, wants to drown in wine, but then she remembers she has a duty (Gods, she'd thought she'd do this out of love at one childish point) so she nods assent.
And so begins their stilted love affair anew.
Jon's only come to her three times before. Sansa knows this is why she's uncomfortable. But as she prepares to recieve her lord husband, she feels dread.
He looked so free with the Queen. He should feel free in a marriage, should he not? And Sansa, as well.
Unless he just looked that way for the Queen.
Sansa knows they've spent many months together, planning for battles and conquering lands for her. Queen Daenerys favors her nephews, Aegon and Jon, but chose Aegon to marry.
Even though she is barren.
Perhaps she wanted her love to bear the heirs to the throne. Perhaps that's why Jon was forced to marry Sansa.
"My Lady? Sansa?"
Sansa turns suddenly, and realizes that Jon has been calling her name for a few moments now.
"My Lord," she says. "Hello. I'm sorry, I don't even know what I was thinking."
Even here, she is a liar.
Jon smiles, and it is a little strained. "Do not apologize, my lady. I should have knocked. Your doors were opened."
Sansa nods. She left them open so Jon would not turn away.
And then it's terrible. Jon is waiting for her to say something, but she can't think. It's the wine. It's the jealousy. Anything.
But Sansa has never been jealous of Jon before.
So she smiles, and says, "My Lo-Jon." His face registers shock for a moment. She only calls him "My Lord" in her chambers.
But Sansa cannot have the Dragon Queen stare at her so, as if she knows something about Jon, as if she has a hold over him that Sansa herself does not.
So Sansa does something unexpected. She slides up to Jon, and kisses him.
It is a shy kiss. Sansa has kissed boys before, but she and Jon have had few kisses between the two of them. She does not know Jon's mouth, just as she does not know his body.
He is still for a moment.
"Sansa," he whispers as he holds her away, "You do not-I understand you are replying to the pressure Daenerys has you under but you don't have to-"
Sansa can't bear his eyes staring at her, grey and concerned, so she cups his face and presses her thumb over his mouth. "Jon Snow," she admonishes softly, "You should know I do nothing unless I want to."
It's true. Sansa wants children. She wants heirs.
And she kisses him again.
He shudders softly, and handles her like a doll. It is always like this, soft and quiet and slow, and Sansa readies herself for the night.
Something about his tenderness changes quickly, though. It would seem Jon cannot control his movements as he did the last time because he is faster, and hits deeper. Sansa changes her grip on the sheets to a tighter hold.
Her back arches off the bed.
Jon can't stay in bed for long. At dawn he joins the men in the yard, only to see Dany already awake.
"I'm leaving as soon as midday meal is over," Dany tells him. "I've a long way to ride."
"Why did you come so quickly?" Jon has to ask, "Without a guard? Dany, is everything well with you and Aegon? And at court?"
Dany smiles, "Quite well." She looks troubled. "Aegon is upset that he gets so little power. He wants more."
Jon nods, "I know. That's the way Aegon is, Dany. He has been raised thinking he would be king."
Dany shakes her head. "I know. But he thought he would at least find pleasure in the fact that at least his children would take the throne. I've not told him I'm barren, Jon, but he seems to be figuring it out. He knows I'm fond of you as well. Your sons will be my heirs."
Jon hugs the woman that is his aunt, his queen, and his best friend. "Dany," He says quietly, "What if Aegon..."
"He won't touch your children, Jon. Even if I die, he will die before me."
Daenerys has steel in her voice and fire in her eyes and Jon realizes that she won't let anything happen to Jon. Her marriage with Aegon seems to have little love, and it's not as if Dany hasn't killed her suitors before. And Jon is Dany's favorite person in the world now.
Jon shudders with the knowledge of Dany's plans to murder his brother.
Sansa awakes alone.
She felt Jon leave the bed before, and knows he spent most of the night. When he got up to leave, Sansa had whispered, "Sleep, Jon," and he had given her a look she couldn't read and got back in bed.
Sansa had felt his heat, just a few inches from her, the entire nights.
She'd barely slept.
Before the Dragon Queen leaves at midday, Jon seemed to be in a sour mood. For Jon, that meant brooding and talking little.
For Sansa, it meant dealing with the lords and their petitions.
The lords of the North have gotten used to seeing Sansa on the weirwood throne. Jon is more of a strategist, and running all of the North keeps him very busy in a way Lord Eddard had never been. Today, however, Jon is in his solar with his aunt, going over trade lines, and Sansa must hear the petitioners alone. It is a complete surprise to her when the Queen calls for her right before they are set to eat.
"My Lady," Daenerys says to Sansa. The Queen is in Sansa's solar, looking at Sansa's embroidery. It is a fine piece, one she was making in honor of Jon's nameday, of a dragon and a direwolf, circling.
"Beautiful work, I must say. How are you finding your marriage?"
The Queen has a reputation of being blunt.
Sansa stills, "Pleasant, thank you, Your Grace. And yours?"
Daenerys shrugs, a careless gesture, one Sansa hasn't made since her Septa told her how vulgar it looked.
"I am not here to talk about Aegon, Sansa. I'm here to talk of you. And Jon."
Sansa feels fear grab the back of her neck.
The Queen sets down the needlework and holds Sansa's hand, tightly. "My lady, I am barren." The Queen's voice is tight, strained.
Sansa nods, as if this is news to her. Daenerys told her this just one year past, in King's Landing.
Daenerys looks Sansa in the eye and says, "The condition of you and Jon coming back to the North was that your firstborn would be my heir, Sansa. You understand that means I need heirs, don't you?"
Sansa says nothing, so the Queen continues, "I understand you and Jon don't have the easiest of marriages, Sansa..."
"We are trying," Sansa says quickly. "We are, Your Grace. We have just started, but I promise you, you will have heirs."
Daenerys stares Sansa down, and finally nods briskly. Then she smiles. "Come. I'm haven't been this famished since Jon and I took King's Landing. Has he ever told you of it? No? It's quite a tale-"
As soon as Dany leaves and the courtyard is filled with noise after seeing her fly away, Sansa whispers to Jon, "Call on me tonight."
He is sure an insect flew into his mouth when he opened it in shock.
He's come to her every night for nearly a moon when Sansa admits to herself that her encounters with Jon have become something else.
Their time in her chambers has been pleasant, but now she realizes that her body likes having Jon inside her, likes him near. The sensation she experienced during Daenerys's visit, when her back arched and she felt tingles in her body, comes more often, and by gods, Jon is a good lover.
However well matched they are in her rooms, though, makes no difference in the outside world. Out in the open, Jon and Sansa have nothing in common, no string tied between them to keep them together. At least, Sansa doesn't sense one.
Jon is staring at Sansa undressing when Sam runs in as fast as he can and nearly collapses.
Sansa immediately grabs her robe and flushes a deep scarlet. Jon, who had been unlacing his tunic, pulled it back together.
"Sam! What are you doing?!"
Sam just gasps and holds out his letter, "I-I was i-in the rookery a-a-and th-this came! F-f-from the Queen!"
Jon's hands are shaking when he grabs the letter.
Sansa watches him read it and gasps when he drops it and sits on the bed, heavily.
He is still shaking, so she comes to him and holds his hand. "What is it, Jon?"
His eyes are red.
"My brother has attacked Daenerys. She is calling me to war."
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