Title: Forever After Days
Pairing: Jon/Sansa
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance, Fluff, Starkcest, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Alternate Universe - Canon, Sibling Incest, Early in Canon
Length: Will be three-shots, I think (Posted this at AO3)
Prompt: "There are many names in history but none of them are ours."
Disclaimer: The characters belong to George R. R. Martin.


She liked to splash in the shallows on hot summer mornings same as this, but the water underneath their vessel most definitely wasn't shallow. She spun on her heels and looked up to the high-masts, large white sails and figureheads carved in the shape of birds, all were useless since they've becalmed at dawn. Both men and women were restless in their stations. They've been left behind by most of the galleys, longships and carracks.

She lowered her eyes then and saw him first, storming out of the cabin. He was not hard to miss, what, with his raven curls atop his head amongst their fair-haired kin? He walked limping; his shoulders and lips were taut and his face still fresh from sleep. Finally he saw her (for she wouldn't be easily missed too, she has long red curls so unlikely to be seen on their realm) and his eyes immediately darkened.

He swallowed some before he spoke, "Sister."

"Brother," she said while curtsying.

He glanced around, noticed how crowded their ship were, noticed that all eyes were on them no matter how they tried to hide it, so he settled for a whisper, a bit harshly to her liking, "You… you're not supposed to be here. Last night…" then his breath hitched and he avoided her eyes.

Last night, she wondered if her eyes shone with mischief. "I never meant to lie," was all she said to him, what she too had said to him a thousand times last night, evading his questions and playing him a mummer's farce.

"But you did, a lie is a lie," he said dejectedly, still, his eyes wouldn't linger on her. He played a fool for her last night, had amused her with stories and wine, but now's the moment of truth, and she could just as well tell that he saw it fit to do on the deck with dozens of people around; he, unsullied from the comforts of his bed, they haven't even broke their fast yet.

"You and Arya's supposed to be on board the Andalos, where is she?"

He made it a point to talk at his right and so she moved where he was looking to block his line of vision. "She wanted to board the Warrior Hills and I the swan ship so Robb helped us on the eve of departure."

His brows furrowed, he wanted to wheel away but she knew she has a hold on him so long as she caught his gaze. "And it's a bother for me to be let on the plan?"

"You were with Father that night, or did you forget?"

He flushed. "I remember. And I remember all too well that I'll be the one to answer this waywardness, as I often had. Where's Robb?"

That was her turn to blush.

"He's with Theon on board the Faith, wasn't he?" he was flexing his right hand now which was a sign that he's not taking anything too well.

She couldn't lie anymore than she did last night so she nodded. "And so are Bran and Rickon."

He took that hard as she thought he would, she was starting to feel guilty now.

"It's too dangerous for Arya to be on a war galley. Bran and Rickon too, in a longship like Faith. Robb and I are supposed to command the archers on the swan ships; this is madness I tell you. We're about to invade lands…" and he trailed off. His face was a grave statue resembling the Father.

"And what of me in a swan ship?"

"What?" for a while he looked lost.

"What of me in a swan ship? You didn't make a comment on that." She didn't mean to tease him so when he was thinking hard about his responsibilities and their safety, it was only that he blushed so red—a beautiful flaming red like last night as she removed the hood of her dress and revealed her face to him—brighter than her hair that she had an urge to do so.

The two of them weren't even that close as children to begin with. Bastard born they may all be, their father was King Ruben of the Andals, a direct descendant of King Hugor of the Hill. Her and Robb's mother was of the Flatlands while his, Arya's, Bran's and Rickon's all came from Pentos.

He didn't fail her expectation on that though. He was red as a pomegranate now. "You know I wouldn't let any harm befall on you long as I stay on command of this ship."

She smiled and reached for the hand he was flexing earlier, enclosed it with hers and said, "I know. The Seven would help us all though. And you've been my wonderful champion last night."

The blood on his face wouldn't circulate down and she felt his hands softened at her touch. A dark cloud passed over his long face. "I was plainly drunk. Why else would I brave the knights and archers board on this for a fair maiden's company only to find out it was you all along?"

And mayhaps, she too, was drunk in levity, else why did she permit Osha and Asha's provocations and even goaded Mya to raise the stakes for the men to win her hand?

A kiss! A kiss! And a night in confinement!

She even raised the hood a little, teasing the knights with her lips and her voice as she sang to them some verses from her favorite songs. Oh, how bold she has been! Arya may just as well kneel eagerly to the Seven if she only knew.

"Why indeed?" and they held their gazes for more than a little while.

Jon slightly shook his head and smiled at last.

Of course he knew it was her under the entire masquerade.

She knew that he was well aware of her reason on coming to the ship that he commands, and though there's nothing more she'll like than for him to voice out that he knew what she knew of this arrangement, of his actions last night, and what's truly inside their hearts, she decided that it was fine.

There'll be few confrontations left on the morrow and the next, and the next one after that, just as he saw it fit to do.