Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Ice and Fire Novels, Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon TV shows. However, I decided to have a little play around with the characters. I do not earn any money from writing these stories, it is for my entertainment and is something I like to share.

Sansa III

Warning, explicit sexual content.

Sansa and Jon stood at the entrance of the greater bedchambers. It was a room usually only for bedding ceremonies. The last occupants were likely to have been her grandparents, Rickard and Lyarra Stark, although Sansa couldn't be certain of that. The room was always kept clean and had remained unscathed during the turbulence of the past decades. However a new straw mattress had been made, and it was now adorned with new curtains and new bed linen as well as fresh furs. On top of the bed lay two linen nightdresses, one for Sansa and one for Jon. Bringing it home what they were about to do. Sansa had no issue with the notion of a bedding ceremony, or even who she was sharing the bed with. Her concern was whether she would have memories of what had happened to her with the one who had defiled her and abused her. She had physical scars, which she did not concern herself with, but the emotional scars were what worried her most about the bedding. And as much as she told Jon she was fine with what they were about to do, deep down she was scared it would hurt and reignite the nightmares she had sought so long to rid herself from. Jon promised her he was going to make it nice for her, although Sansa had no idea how on earth he thought she might even remotely like it, but she would try, for him.

Jon turned to the four men waiting behind them. "Do you mind if we undress in our chambers alone? We'll call you in when we're ready." he told them.

"Yes Your Grace." Tormund nodded in a way which suggested he knew the reasons why, the rest nodded along with him, and Jon and Sansa finally found themselves alone in the chamber.

Sansa looked around and noticed the screen which would help her keep some semblance of modesty, although she was still going to need Jon's assistance. "Can you help me with this?" she asked, trying to unfasten her cape. Jon approached her and unfastened the tricky clip and removed the Targaryen cloak which she hadn't removed since the ceremony, and placed it on a chair.

"Do you need any more help?" Jon asked, the air crackled with tension between the two of them.

"I can unfasten the laces at the front, but not the clips at the back." she replied, wincing as she realised Jon would see her scars, however she knew he wouldn't find them ugly, but she knew what his reaction would be when he saw them.

"Gods Sansa. What did he do to you?" Jon's voice turned to a whisper, she could hear sadness in it.

Sansa turned to face him. "Nothing he can do now can hurt me. They are a reminder that he is dead and cannot create more." she tried to assure him. "Your job is to make sure I never get another scar." she touched his face. "Can you pass me the nightdress? I can do the rest behind the screen." she said as he took the smaller dress from the bed and hung it over the screen before starting to undress himself. If Sansa had to be honest with herself, Jon's outfit looked just as complicated as hers to remove. He had multiple clips down the front of his black velvet doublet which looked intricate and meddlesome, Sansa was also intrigued to see them up close. "Wait a moment." she slipped her nightdress over her head. "Let me help, those clips look.."

"Idiotic? Fiddly?" Jon suggested.

"Yes, fiddly." Sansa agreed as she studied them. "And absolutely stunning. Where did you get this from?" she asked.

"I spent a day on Dragonstone, I raided a secret library and found these old clothes. I don't think they've been disturbed since they were hidden in the chest I found." he shrugged as he finally got rid of the doublet which Sansa took from him and started to examine the needlework.

"I wouldn't mind studying some of these clothes, I could see if we can recreate this level of finery." Sansa looked up and saw Jon removing his tunic. "Oh..." she started, but no words could leave her mouth when she saw the scars on Jon's torso. She'd heard the tale a number of times from various people, but she'd never seen the actual evidence of what the men of the Night's Watch did. Sansa threw the doublet on the bed and walked over to him, her eyes focused on one scar in particular, the one on his heart. "Did it hurt." she whispered, trying not to cry.

"I can't remember, I'd already been stabbed that many times I lost any sense of pain. By the time that one went in, I was dead." Jon replied.

"Can I touch it?" she asked, not knowing why, but only that she had a desire to check it was real and that the heart beneath was still beating.

"Aye, if you want." Jon nodded.

Sansa ran her fingers along the lightly indented skin where the knife had gone into his body, an act which should have been so final, yet here he was, standing right in front of her. She placed the palm of her hand over the scar, completely covering it and feeling for his heartbeat, which was powerful beneath his chest. "That's the important part, your heart still beats. You are alive and here." she smiled, taking her hand away.

Jon walked over to the screen to finish taking his clothes off, although Sansa had to admit he did have a fine physique which wasn't unpleasant to the eye. "Don't you think you ought to let your hair down? You don't want those pins getting stuck in your head, or my eyes." he suggested, being the ever practical person he was.

"Of course." Sansa agreed as she stood in front of the vanity unit and removed the pins and braids, allowing her now wavy hair to tumble around her shoulders.

Jon stood behind her and looked at her through the mirror. "You look beautiful." he smiled a genuine smile, one which warmed Sansa's heart.

"Thank you." Sansa replied just as there was a knock at the door.

"Are you ready yet?" came the voice of the septon.

Jon took Sansa's hand and led her over to the bed where they both sat down. "Come in." he called as the witnesses filed into the room. Sansa's heart was thudding hard as the four men filed in, she began to close the curtains to keep her busy and so she didn't have to look at their faces.

Just before Sansa closed the curtains at her side of the bed, the men had all seated at the opposite side of the room, except for the septon, although his chair was next to Tyrion's. "Mother above, bless this bed, let it be fruitful." he added before taking his seat.

Sansa scuttled to the other side of the bed, lay down and pulled the furs over the top of her as Jon closed the final curtain and they were engulfed in darkness, which was when realisation dawned on Sansa, and she began to shake with fear. She felt the weight of the bed move next to her and the breeze told her Jon was also under the covers. Jon took her hand, which Sansa realised was sweaty and clammy, her body frozen in fear.

"We don't have to do this." Jon whispered in her ear, his voice immediately soothing her.

"As long as I know it's you and not him, I'm fine." Sansa said in a quiet voice. "Just keep reassuring me it is you."

Jon placed her hand on his face. "Can you feel my beard?" he asked.

"Yes." Sansa whispered, realising where he was going with this.

"Is being able to feel my beard enough to know it's me and not him if I forget to talk?" Jon whispered.

"I think so." Sansa nodded towards the outline of the shape of where Jon's head was. That shape moved and suddenly there was a pain on her forehead where he'd banged his against hers. "Ouch!" she frowned, suddenly bursting into a nervous fit of giggles.

"Sorry." Jon mumbled as she felt his hand cup her face.

Suddenly warm lips met hers, tasting of the ale he drank earlier, his beard tickled her face, however she liked the sensation. This kiss was different to all of Sansa's previous kisses. Jon's lips parted slightly, hers similarly responded, her body seemingly knowing how to react without thinking. Jon had spent most of the night encouraging her to relax and telling her what they would do would come naturally. At the time Sansa hadn't believed him, but Jon clearly had known what he was talking about.

Being reassured Jon was the one sharing her bed did indeed relax her. He'd promised to not hurt her and would even try to make it feel nice for her, although she wasn't convinced of how that was possible. Jon pulled her deeper into the kiss, one which had which had initially started off as chaste in comparison, slowly became needy and passionate. Sansa parted her lips as Jon's tongue demanded entry to her mouth. Tentatively at first, they began to explore each other, before their confidence in one another grew and their tongues began to dance. Nobody had ever kissed Sansa like this before, or made her feel so alive by just kissing her. The taste of ale on his mouth tasted familiar and comforting, relaxing her body and senses.

Jon edged up to her body and pressed his against hers, in particular his hips, allowing her to feel the outline of his manhood. Sansa felt his hand run down the side of her linen clad body, causing her to pull away from the kiss and stiffen up.

"Are you alright?" Jon asked. "It's just me, I'm right here." he placed his hand on her waist, pulling her into him and resting his forehead against hers.

Sansa relaxed once more. "I was more surprised that's all. It tickled a little." she lied.

"Do you want me to continue?" Jon asked.

"Yes." Sansa replied truthfully, it wasn't unpleasant, she was just surprised by not knowing what he was going to do next. Deep down, with every touch he made, she was expecting pain, and when it didn't happen, she felt confused, she wanted to feel what was supposed to be nice, but the fear was still there, albeit slowly disappearing.

"Lay on your back." Jon suggested, his voice too low for anyone other than Sansa to hear. "I'll be on top of you. When I next touch you, it'll be less of a surprise. You'll need to open your legs a little, but don't worry, we're not going to do anything yet, you're not ready." he assured.

"How do you know?" Sansa asked as she turned to lay flat on her back and spread her legs apart.

Jon climbed on top of her. "Trust me, I'll know. Can I kiss you again?" he asked.

"You don't need to ask." Sansa felt herself blush. "It's nice." she admitted, as he settled, his weight pressing down on her, yet surprisingly it wasn't uncomfortable as he must have bore some himself because he didn't crush her.

Before he kissed her again, Sansa felt Jon reach down and place his hand behind her right knee and bring it up for her foot was flat to the bed, he then did the same with the left knee, but he left his hand where it was as she suddenly felt his mouth against hers once more. This time she kissed him back immediately, her arms taking on a life of their own, wrapping them around his shoulders. Jon pressed his pelvis against hers as they kissed, he rolled his hips and ran his hand up Sansa's leg, his fingers trailing softly against her skin. This time Sansa wasn't surprised by his touch, and she didn't recoil or stiffen up. Instead she relaxed into his movements, noting his manhood hardening, which she knew was good, and at the same time, this knowledge had an odd effect on her, heat was pooling in her stomach, her breathing was becoming heavier and her heart beat faster and harder, or so it felt. She began to move her hips with his, which intensified the heat between her thighs. Jon's lips left her mouth and he began to place small pecks along her jawline and down her neck. The sensation of his lips and beard tickled, but not in the way she expected, every touch, every movement seemed to just affect one part of her body. Sansa pushed her head back, exposing her neck to him more, enjoying the sensation of his touch. She had seen this in the books Littlefinger had given her to study, and now she was beginning to understand what Jon had tried to tell her in his own way about getting her ready, because she knew something was happening to her body and it was how it was meant to be.

Jon's hand continued up her thigh, then pushing her nightdress up to her waist. His hand cupped her behind and pulled her hips in closer to his, his manhood grinding against a sweet and sensitive spot, which seemed to stoke the burning in her core. An involuntary sigh of contentment came from her mouth, much to her own surprise. Jon paused his kisses and whispered in her ear.

"Can I touch you down there?" he asked, his voice was low and seemed huskier, it was different to how he usually sounded.

"Yes." she replied without hesitation.

Jon raised his right hand to his mouth and licked his fingers before sliding it between them. Sansa held her breath, awaiting his touch, a mixture of desire and trepidation, not in knowing what to expect. Despite expecting his touch, she still jumped a little when his fingers found her most private of places.

"You ok?" he whispered.

"I'm fine." Sansa swallowed.

"Tell me if you're not." he said as he began to kiss her neck once more and stroke her folds gently.

Sansa closed her eyes and relaxed into his touch, he was being as gentle as anyone would hope, except she realised he was being a little too gentle. The nice warm feeling which had been mounting was ebbing away slightly and she wanted it back.

"More." Sansa whispered into his ear.

Jon ran his fingers up and down her folds once more and began to rub her nub, his fingers working in perfectly pressured circles. A tiny moan came from Sansa's mouth and she heard Jon chuckle in her ear as he added a little more pressure. The heat between her legs was building once more, but much more quickly this time. Her back arched without her permission, but she couldn't help it. The one thing she hated was losing control and she seemingly had none when it came down to how her body was reacting to Jon's touch.

"I'm going to use my fingers to find out if you're ready yet." Jon warned her. "Tell me to stop if it hurts."

"I will." Sansa promised as she felt his fingers travel down to where she knew he was to put himself when she was ready. Sansa braced herself for the pain of his fingers being inside her, but when he slowly inserted one, she was surprised how little she felt.

"Does it feel alright?" Jon asked.

"I can hardly feel anything?" Sansa replied, worried that she should.

"That's because you're nearly there." he told her, nuzzling her neck as he slid another finger inside her. "Gods you feel good and wet." he murmured in an approving tone. He pulled his fingers almost all the way out and pushed them back in, slowly at first, but after a few times he began to up the pace.

Sansa clung onto his shoulders and began to kiss them to try and stifle any moans of pleasure she was making. The sensation was intense, but it wasn't right, Sansa instinctively knew needed him inside her.

"Jon, I need you." she begged in the quietest voice she could muster.

"You sure?" Jon asked.

"Yes." she almost squeaked.

When Jon removed his fingers, Sansa felt empty at the loss. However it was quickly replaced by Jon placing himself at her entrance. She knew he'd be a lot bigger than his fingers, but she didn't care, she needed him. Slowly Jon pushed himself in, stretching her gently as he filled her. Sansa had still braced herself for some discomfort, but there was none. He pulled almost all of the way out slowly, but stopped before pressing himself back in again, moving his hips as he had before when he first climbed on top of her. As a result, Sansa knew exactly what to do, she began to coordinate her hip movements with his.

The bed began to creak as they increased the pace and intensity, yet for Sansa she wanted more as the heat down below was turning into mounting pressure, ready to boil over. She parted her legs further and wrapped her left leg around his back and cupped his backside with her right hand, while clinging to his shoulder with her free hand. This allowed for a slightly different angle which did exactly what she needed. He was deeper inside and she could feel him rubbing up against the sensitive bundle of nerves which only heightened the sensation. Sansa's body was starting to tighten, her muscles beginning to feel rigid, her insides were hot and almost numb at the same time. Her grip on Jon tightened, bracing herself for something she knew was going to happen, although whatever it was, she didn't know.

"Come for me Sansa." Jon breathlessly begged her as he rested his forehead against hers.

Sansa didn't know what he meant, but the tone of his voice, his neediness and desire for her had the effect. Her back arched as she felt the convulsions inside her, throbbing and hot. Waves of pleasure engulfed her body.

"Jon..." was all she could managed to whisper as she clung to him tightly.

"Sansa..." Jon muttered back as he went rigid, which she knew was his moment. She wrapped her legs around his back, pulling him in as tight as possibly as he grunted into her neck and spilled his seed inside her. Their bodies relaxed, with their foreheads pressed together, Sansa let her legs rest, as Jon softened inside her and fell on top of her, exhausted. Sansa never wanted him to move, she wanted to have this moment etched in her memory forever, the one time she would spend with a man who was prepared to put her first. The saddest part was that it was unlikely to happen again. This had only taken place out of necessity and Jon had done his best to make it good for her. Once she'd relaxed, it was wonderful, but it was a one off, never to be repeated. Sansa was already in mourning for her loss.

Jon pulled out and the wet sticky liquid came with it, her nightdress and the bedsheets sucking it in. tears were already rolling down Sansa's cheeks as she rolled over. She covered herself as Jon opened the curtains. She couldn't see what was happening, she was too upset at the loss of something she was never meant to have. For one night only her prince had rescued her and given her what she needed, but it would never happen again.

Sansa felt the heat from the fire lighting up the bed. She heard the steps, and although she couldn't see what was going on, clearly Jon was unhappy about something.

"There's your proof. I hope your happy. Now fuck off and leave me and my wife alone with some actual privacy. It's been a long day." he said, his voice was low and very angry. She heard the shuffle of footsteps and murmurs of "Night Your Grace." before the door closed with a very loud bang. Sansa got out of the bed through the other side and ran over to the screen, hoping Jon couldn't see her tears.

"I just need to wash myself." she told him as she first rinsed her face and then between her legs. As she did, she gave herself a good mental dressing down. This was about duty, not pleasure. She was the Queen in the North and this was about protecting their realms from whoever was controlling the body of their brother. She took a deep breath and adjusted her demeanour, her guise in place. The distraught girl who ran to the screen walked back wearing the mask of a Queen, at least until she climbed back into bed where she could hide once more.

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