Shireen couldn't remember having ever been at a bigger feast. It was giving her a headache. Or maybe it was making small talk with all those around her at the table. Too many inane conversations where people tried desperately not to look at her scar.
She shifted, wanting to stretch, ending up hitting the man beside her.
When she looked up to apologize she was met with grey eyes, causing her to completely forget what she had been about to say.
Jon Snow had only gotten better looking in the last seven years. His hair was a little longer, his muscles more pronounced and Shireen routinely found herself for a loss for words in his presence.
"It's all a bit much, don't you think?" Jon asked, smiling.
She only nodded, wishing she could form words. It was all a bit much. The small council thought having a large feast to celebrate their renewal of vows would help everyone accept the marriage. Shireen just found the whole thing exhausting.
Someone in the crowd yelled "Bedding!" and soon the cry was taken up by the room.
Jon grimaced, sending a shot of shame through Shireen. She wondered just how much humiliation she could take this evening. Knowing that her husband found bedding her repulsive was one thing, but now everyone wanted to undress her in public. She shuddered at the thought.
"Oh, look she's ready for you, Snow!" someone yelled in the back, having seen her shudder, mistaking it for anticipation.
Jon stood. Shireen looked at her lap, wishing she could control the blush on her face. But then Jon's hand came in to view, grabbing one of her hands, pulling her up. He leaned in close, Shireen wondered how one man could smell so good and whether or not she was going to faint.
"Trust me. I have a plan," he whispered in her ear. He turned his attention back to the room. "You can have your bedding!
The crowd roared, surging forward. But Jon held up a hand to silence them, stopping them all in their tracks.
"You can have your bedding, if you can catch us!" He yelled. Quick as flash, he dipped down, throwing Shireen over his shoulder and made a dash for the door closest to them. She could hear people yelling behind them.
Dangling upside down, she wasn't sure where they were going. They were in a hall, Jon was practically running, before he stopped abruptly. She could hear him entering numbers on a keypad, he slid through the door when it opened, quickly closing it behind them. Leaving them in complete darkness.
He turned back around, bending over until her feet touched the ground and she could stand on her own. When he righted himself, he didn't move back. She could feel his breath on her face. Involuntarily she took a step back, coming flush against the door. He followed her. In the dark she heard him shift, one of his hands gently grabbing her arm, then he leaned in even more, his chest coming in direct contact with her breasts.
"Shhh," he whispered in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. His breath tickled her neck. "We're in the supply closet. Hopefully none of the janitors are helping in the search because they are the only other ones who know the code to get in."
"Oh," she sighed, almost moaning. He hadn't moved back when he finished talking. Shireen was resisting the urge to move her hands up to hold him.
"We'll wait here until the coast is clear," he said, his voice lower, more guttural. She felt his nose graze her cheek. He shifted, causing friction on her nipples.
She moaned.
Her eyes shot wide open, embarrassment flooding her body, suddenly very thankful for the darkness hiding her blush. Glad she couldn't see his undoubtedly horrified face.
He laughed low, rumbling his chest, causing more friction between them. Shireen felt a hand on her shoulder, moving to her neck, up to caress her face with his thumb. His other hand moved to her waist, pulling her against him while also pressing her more firmly in to the door.
His nose nudged her cheek again, then her nose. Shireen thought this might be the best dream she had ever had.
"Try the supply closet," a voice yelled from the other side of the door.
The spell was broken, Jon shifted back putting space between them, removing his hands. Leaving Shireen thankful for the support of the door at her back.
Shireen knew, in the dark he had momentarily forgot her disfigured face.
The commotion outside the door died down, when someone pointed out they didn't have the code. They heard the footsteps trail off down the hallway.
"It should be safe, we'll stick to the less used hallways," he said, his voice back to normal.
He grabbed her hand when they were once again back in the hallway, pulling her along behind him. Shireen didn't pay attention to the route he was taking her, only staring at their joined hands. I could get used to this.
Once they were safely in their room, he dropped her hand in order to secure the lock.
"That should keep them out," he said, turning to smile at her.
She smiled back, dropping her eyes to his feet.
"Thank you for saving me from the bedding. I have been dreading it all day," she said, glad the words all came clearly.
"It's a stupid tradition," he said.
Neither of them moved. Shireen began to wonder if he was waiting for her to undress. She was unsure of how to proceed.
Being unable to take the suspense, she looked up. He was gazing at her, his face softer moving his eyes over her entire body before making eye contact again.
"You're beautiful," he said, a slight smile on his face.
The tears came fast, a sob escaped her mouth. She couldn't hold it in so she wept. Her whole body shook. She covered her face with her hands, mortified that he would see her crying.
He had called her beautiful, thinking it would reassure her, comfort her. He had said it out of pity, out of his kindness. The lie hurt. So she cried, unable to understand why it cut so deep. Wishing they were back in the supply closet, where it was dark and Jon had momentarily forgot about her disfigurement.
Suddenly arms were around her; he pulled her in close to his body, resting her head on his chest, rubbing a hand soothingly down her back. She let him hold her as she cried out her frustration. Eventually the tears subsided, her breathing regulated. He pulled back, gently cupping her face with his hand, his thumb wiping away tears on her cheek.
"We'll wait," he said. The confusion must have shown on her face, because he motioned toward the bed with his head. "We will wait until you're more comfortable around me, less scared."
He thought she was crying over the bedding.
"But," she started. The small council had made it clear: the marriage needed to be consummated. They had even had her examined, confirming her virginity; stating they would also need the sheets from the wedding night. The council wanted to make sure that the legitimacy of their marriage could never be questioned. They had even made it clear that they expected her to be pregnant within the next two years. It had been one of the most awkward conversations Shireen had ever endured.
"Don't worry about the small council. I have an idea," he said, smiling mischievously. Shireen wanted to smile back, feeling a shot of happiness that they were conspiring in something together.
He went in to his closet, coming back a few minutes later, beckoning her closer to the bed where he was throwing back the sheets. He held a small knife. He held out his hand to her, instinctively she placed her hand in his.
"Do you trust me?" He asked.
"Yes," she said, without hesitation.
He flipped her hand over, in the very center of her palm he used the knife to make the smallest incision. Blood pooled in her palm, then he moved it, turning it over, smearing it on the white sheets.
"I would have used my blood, but knowing the small council they'll probably test the DNA," he said, pulling her hand up, not letting it go.
Grabbing a tissue, Jon carefully attended to the cut until it had stopped bleeding. He looked up at her, smiling.
"They'll never know," he said, releasing her hand. He turned from her, grabbing one of the pillows from the bed, throwing it on the floor, reaching to grab the blanket at the end of the bed, before she understood.
"You can't sleep on the floor," she said, thinking fast. "Everyone will know. You have to sleep in the bed."
He paused, looking at her carefully. "Are you sure you're comfortable with that?"
"Of course," she all but yelled, a little too quickly. She could feel her face blushing.
He continued to look at her, assessing her. He nodded once before bending over to pick up the pillow.
Later, when the lights were out, after they had both settled on their sides of the bed, he spoke. He told her about when he was little, still at Winterfell, how his brother Bran would sneak in to his room to sleep with him whenever there was a thunderstorm.
"Sleeping with Bran was always the worst, because he kicked," he said, she could hear the laughter in his voice. "Do you kick, my lady?"
"Shireen, please call me Shireen," she said, laughing. "I do not know if I kick, but I once had to share a room with my mother who snored so loudly. Do you snore, ser?"
"Jon, please call me Jon," he said, his voice teasing. "I do not know if I snore. I guess we will both know by morning. But I warn you: if you kick, I kick back."
"Fair warning," she said, giggling slightly. "But I feel the need to warn you, Jon. If you snore, I kick back."
He let out a bark of laughter. Shireen fell asleep that night with a smile on her face.