When Sansa woke, it was from a dreamless sleep; a sleep unplagued by nightmarish scenes, a sleep that left her feeling more rested than she had felt in months. Yawning, she opened her eyes and found herself to be staring up at the unfamiliar canopy of a bed that was not her own. She blinked, a tremor of surprise rushing through her at the same moment her stomach lurched, a reminder of all the alcohol consumed the night before. And that was when she remembered everything else about the night before.
Rolling onto her other side, Sansa was greeted with the sight of Jon asleep beside her, his back to her as he softly snored. Every image of the night before went tumbling wildly through her mind as she sat up, unsure if she should feel ashamed by the lustful thoughts crossing her mind so suddenly. She and Jon... They had... They had done everything a married man and woman would do- but neither were married, and worse yet, they were as good as siblings. And yet... We're not, she reminded herself, we're anything but brother and sister... And in truth, Sansa found she was wanting to do it all again.
Swinging her legs over the edge of Jon's bed, she stood up and began to gather her few belongings, pulling her silver gown back on, cursing to herself when she remembered its tiny buttons at the back. "Leaving?" Jon's sleepy voice broke the silence and Sansa turned, clutching the gown to her, peering down at him there on the bed. "I suppose it's best before a servant arrives," he pushed himself up onto an elbow, his curly hair a mess from sleep. His eyes would not leave hers and then, all of her worries, all of her concerns were gone, leaving behind nothing but joy at what had transpired between them. Perhaps... Perhaps it wasn't as wrong as her mind tried to make her believe it was. "Let me help you." He sat up, gesturing for her to come around to his side of the bed, and when she was there he turned her around so he could button her gown back into place.
"Thank you," she murmured, turning back around to face him again, unable to help but to smile as she met his eyes. Jon reached out to take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go. "I'll see you at breakfast?" She asked, to which he grinned and gave a nod, watching as she went out of the room, allowing the door to gently close behind her. If either of the guards had thoughts about the Northern queen remaining behind closed doors with their own king for the night, neither voiced them.
Sansa made her way back to her rooms, only to find her own guards replaced by Brienne, who was looking grim as she stood before her door. "Lady Sansa!" Brienne cried out as she approached, the only person close enough to the young queen to address her as anything but 'your grace.' "You did not return to your rooms last night, I was worried!" She said to her headstrong charge, who did not speak as she slipped by her, throwing open the door to her chambers without ceremony. Brienne took in the sight of the young woman, with her rumpled dress and her tousled hair, and could not help but to wonder if she had lain with a man. Not that Brienne would blame her, she was just surprised... Especially after all that had happened.
"I stayed in Arya's rooms." Sansa lied, feeling her face grow warm as the words passed her lips. She'd never been a good liar, but Brienne focused her gaze on her for only a moment before she busied herself with calling for the handmaidens. "Ready a bath, if you will." Sansa said to them as they entered, sitting herself down at her vanity. Looking into her mirror, she took several deep breaths, a smile creeping onto her lips as she thought back to the night before. Somehow... It had all been real.
In his own rooms, Jon was finally out of bed, lazily dressed in yesterdays breeches and a shirt that he'd not even bothered to button fully. It was as he drained a goblet of ale that the doors to his rooms swung open and in marched a disgruntled looking Tyrion. "She stayed in your rooms last night?" He demanded as his eyes fell upon the young king who at least had the tact to look regretful. "I told you to invite her here to wed her, not bed her when she's drunk." Tyrion heaved an exasperated sigh but crossed the room to stand before Jon as he sat down on the edge of his bed. He supposed one good thing could come from this- Sansa's approval of a marriage would be easy to gain.
"You know?" Jon arched a brow in surprise, but chuckled, supposing he'd been wrong to assume there was anything Tyrion didn't know.
"Your guards talk," Tyrion harrumphed, though the look he shot the King was a bit more fond than anything else. "They said she came to you... What a way you have with women, Jon Snow," the dwarf shook his head, almost in disbelief. "Two beautiful queens bed you without so much as a courting period... It's shocking, really." Jon smirked at Tyrion's use of his name, more like a nickname from the older man to the younger one anymore. "You know what you must do next, don't you?" Jon shook his head, well, then nodded as part of him did indeed know what he had to do next. But he was positive what he was thinking wasn't what Tyrion was thinking. "Court her. Love her. Wed her. Parade through all of the Seven Kingdoms with her on your arm," he leaned forward in his chair, fixing Jon with his dark gaze. "Prove to this broken nation that peace is stronger than war."
Tyrion was right. Jon knew that if he didn't solidify the newly acquired peace then it would all fall to shambles. Tensions still yet ran high and Jon knew he had to make the right moves to ensure they didn't run over. Marriage... Had that not been Tyrion's suggestion a few weeks before when they had first invited Sansa and Arya there. There was no better ally to have than the North men, his own men, for despite it all he was from the North too. And the thought of wedding Sansa? It filled him with a feeling he simply could not describe. So he nodded, telling Tyrion he understood all that he'd said to him. He nodded, to tell him that he was ready to take the next step to further his relationship with Sansa.
And he knew it wasn't just for the good of the nation, it wasn't just for politics. It was the one thing he knew he wanted most in this whole world. There was nothing he wanted more than to wake up every morning with her in his bed, nothing he wanted more than to have her on a throne beside his own. There was no one he'd want to spend the rest of his life with. And the feeling sent waves of pleasure rushing through him.
That was when Jon realized the truth... He was in love with her.
[ x x x ]
The days turned to weeks and before he knew what was happening, Jon was spending every moment with her. He found himself bored without her chatter, cold without her touch. Even the smallest of her gestures were burned into his memory, so fiercely that he was certain he knew her better than even she knew herself. He scoured her brain for her opinions on his men of state, for her advice on the governing of his throne, and for her words of comfort when his own old demons came back to haunt him. Much like Sansa, he too held guilt and heartache over things in his past.
But, best not to dwell on those things.
It was late morning when they found themselves alone, strolling through the palace towards the courtyard doors, ever intent on taking a morning walk. Jon was hyper aware of her small hand perched on his elbow, how warm her skin was against his own despite the layers of clothing between them. "Look at the sun," Sansa murmured as they stepped out into the sunshine, bright enough to warm their exposed skin. "It's so warm."
Jon turned to look at her profile illuminated by the winter sun, setting her already fiery hair ablaze in color. "Winter will be over sooner than we thought," he mused, reaching for her hand, causing her to turn back to him, a smile lingering on her lips. "Perhaps we will see spring again." It didn't feel like all that long ago that he was standing before Ned Stark, hearing the words winter is coming, fall from his lips. And it really wasn't all that long ago that he said those very same words to Sansa back at Winterfell. A never ending winter... It had felt so real back then, but standing there in the cold, winter sun with Sansa... Everything just felt too bright, everything just felt to wonderful to be subjected to the frozen, dark wasteland that was never ending winter.
"Spring is coming," Sansa said with a chuckle as she turned back out to face the courtyard, her hand still tightly clasped in his. "After everything that's happened, spring has to come." For several long moments, they stood there before one another, and then Jon was reaching for her, brushing her mouth with his own. He felt her other hand come to meet his shoulder and she was kissing him back, her mouth soft and warm against his. They had not come together again since that first time, the night of the ball, but they had shared a few more kisses as the weeks had passed. In truth, it was more like a proper courting, Sansa had come to realize only days before when he'd offered her his arm before all of the court. Something about that made her happier than anything else ever could have.
He reached out his free arm, slinging it around her waist to draw her closer to him. She let out a little giggle, her breath a cloud of white in the cold, morning air as her arm extended out over his shoulder, hand snaking up the back of his head. "Spring has already come for me, in truth," he whispered to her, watching as her face lit up with his words, her mouth curving with her joy. "I love you, Sansa." He said the words he'd been longing to say for days now, weeks really. The words he'd been playing over and over again in his mind, to find the perfect way to say them, to find the best way to tell her the truth of his feelings. But now that the moment was here, he found there no reason to give her a speech, not when there were only three words that mattered in the end. "I love you." He repeated, bringing one of his hands up to cup her cheek into his palm, his own mouth beaming with a smile.
When Jon spoke, Sansa heard words she'd not thought she'd ever hear from a man. How could she have ever thought to be loved by a man, when she'd known nothing but abuse from them? But standing there before Jon, with his warm hand against her cold cheek, with his dark eyes staring deep into her own... She knew this is what it felt like to be loved. It felt warm and it felt safe, it felt better than any thing else ever had. "I love you, too," she murmured, speaking her own truth, the words never having more truth than they did right then. Jon took her into his arms then, embracing her tightly as a cold gust of wind blew past them. Shivering despite the warmth of their cloaks, they returned to the palace, to warm up before Jon's meeting with his advisers.
But as they walked, something was taking over him.
Taking her by the hand, Jon led her down an empty corridor, ignoring the surprised words leaving her lips. "Jon... What are you... Where are you...?" She was silenced as he pushed her against the wall, his lips finding hers, no longer able to hold himself back from what he'd been longing to do. He felt her yield to his kiss at once, her hands gripping the front of his shirt as her teeth nibbled on his lower lip, sending chills down his spine. "Jon!" She gasped as he pulled away, his lips on her neck a moment before his teeth sunk down on the soft flesh just below her jaw.
He could hardly stand to wait much more.
Fiddling with the waist of his pants, Jon caught her attention and her hands were there at once, taking over from his. Jon took this opportunity to heft her up the wall, expertly maneuvering her as she pulled his pants past his hips. With his member exposed, Jon positioned himself between her legs and lowered her just enough for the tip to touch her most sensitive of places. The moan that escaped her was almost enough to end things right there, but Jon maintained control even as he lowered her the rest of the way onto himself. His own lips parted with a groan as he tipped his head back, thrusting gently into her as she wrapped her legs around his hips. "Sansa," he rasped as she spasmed with pleasure, feeling her tighten around him as she gave a loud mewl that echoed in the chamber. "Shhh," he whispered as he laughed, giving her a particularly hard thrust, earning another little cry that almost sent him over the edge.
Sansa couldn't think of anything other than how incredibly amazing it felt to be there in that empty corridor with Jon. His hands were warm and strong on her arms, keeping her aloft as he pushed himself into her and then pulled back out, slowly inching his way back inside of her. He was tormenting her, she decided, and tangled her hands into his hair as his mouth clamped down over her breast, his chin brushing aside the little bit of fabric that had been the low neckline of her gown. Her hands were still in his hair as his tongue made circles around her nipple. "Jon!" She could scarcely spit out his name as she felt him reach all the way inside of her.
There was no way he could make it much longer.
Jon adjusted her position against the wall and when he thrust into her, she had to bury her face into his hair to keep from crying out. Apparently, he'd found the right spot. But not just for her. He felt himself spilling over as she clamped down around him, her voice muffled against his skin as he lowered her back towards the ground. As her feet touched down, she clung to him, and he to her, panting and grinning over what had just occurred. Reaching out, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her sweaty forehead, chuckling at her appearance. "You look as if you've been misbehaving," he put a hand against the wall to the side of her head, leaning down, his lips hovering just over hers. "The court will whisper..." She giggled as his mouth closed down over hers again, this time a gentler kiss that still managed to steal her breath away.
"Let them whisper, they always do," Sansa retorted with a breathy laugh, her blue eyes flashing as they met Jon's gaze. "At least this time it's over something good," her hands still held fast to the front of his shirt and she gave a little pull, drawing him close enough to put her lips to his. "You'll be late for your meeting," she murmured as she drew back from him, giving him a little push instead, slipping out from beneath his grasp in the process. "Come on then," Jon groaned, but laughed, following after her into the main hall, absently adjusting his clothes as they went.
The last thing he wanted to do after that session in the hall was attend a meeting of any kind, but he knew this was one he could not skip. As they approached his council room, he saw Brienne of Tarth coming down the hall towards them; in truth it seemed like she had a sixth sense when it came to Sansa. "Your grace," Brienne said to both of them in turn, offering a little bow as the doors opened behind them, revealing Tyrion there, with Jaime hovering in the background. "My lady, shall I escort you back to your rooms?" Jon looked at Sansa, who gave a single nod and smiled and Jon, before sweeping past all of them with her head held high, looking very much like the queen she was. Jon nodded to Brienne before he ducked into his council room, where the worst sort of meeting was to take place.
He had to decide what to do about his traitorous aunt, the young woman he had once felt something for. She was still yet locked away in his dungeons, well cared for, but in the dungeon all the same. She was a flight risk, a war risk, and they couldn't take chances with her. At least, that's what his advisers kept on saying anyway. It was up to him in the end what happened with Daenerys but there was a part of him that just couldn't make that final call.m But, he was King, and those were the kinds of decisions he had to make, regardless of what it did to his conscience.
At least, that's what he told himself to make every one a little bit easier.