The mornings were the worst.
The constant taste of bile, the constant sea of nausea, the overwhelming sense of being tired, no matter how late she slept. By early afternoon she always felt well enough to move about, to stroll through court as if nothing was amiss, and if it weren't for all the drama with Daenerys her absence might have been noticed. But, for now it seemed that her secret was still yet safe. And truthfully, Sansa knew she couldn't hide it from Jon much longer.
Though he had not come to her bed in days, he still came to her rooms; he still would hold her when he slept, her presence his only sense of comfort these days. He was mad with worry over what to do now that he had both Daenerys and Jorah in his dungeons. There was no one left to side with the mother of dragons, no one left to help her break free again. However, something told Sansa that Jon wouldn't have to worry about her trying to break out ever again. Her mind often returned to that conversation they'd shared that day, one she'd yet to give the details to to anyone, not even to Jon, and she felt a rush of pity for the dragon queen. But, she'd made her bed and now she had to lie upon it, as her mother had always said. Actions always had consequences, Sansa had learned that the hard way... And now, so had Daenerys.
It was late into the morning when Sansa had finally decided to rise up from her bed, feeling a little weary but finally ready to break her fast. Brienne had gone off to bring her something from the kitchens when the steward entered after a soft knock, offering her a little bow. If he noticed her bedhead and robe thrown over her nightgown, he did not mention it. "The King, your grace," he said with another quick bow, before backing from the room.
Sansa had only a moment before the door opened again and Jon entered instead, wearing a small smile, dressed in what had to be the oldest pair of breeches he owned. "They said you were still abed, I see they were not lying," he joked, taking in the sight of her disheveled hair and nightgown. She made a face at him, a chuckle escaping her lips only a moment later as she came to stand before him. Jon slipped his arms around her, nuzzling her neck, feeling the warmth of her hands as they came to rest at the small of his back. One of his own hands was gently tugging through her red locks, relishing in the softness of it against his skin. "I wouldn't mind staying in bed with you all day..." His voice was a whisper, his breath warm against her neck as his lips strayed from her ear down to the exposed crook of her shoulder.
That was when she realized, she had to tell him.
Placing her hands instead upon his shoulders, she pushed him away from her, holding him at arm's length. "Jon, there's something I have to tell you," she admitted softly, turning away when he looked upon her with widened eyes. The worry was evident upon his face and Sansa just couldn't face it.
But the she felt it, the soft touch of his hand against her cheek, the movement forcing her to return her gaze to his. "Tell me, Sansa." His simple words brought a laugh to her lips and she sagged against him, clutching to the front of his shirt as she fought for the words to say. He thought it was going to be so easy, that he could fix whatever was bothering her with a single gesture. But, unbekownst to Jon, there was no remedying this situation. Well, not now at least. Staring into his eyes, she knew, without any doubt at all that she could tell him. She had to tell him. It would be hard, nearly impossible, but she was coming to the point where soon people would begin to notice. It was a miracle Jon himself had yet to notice something strange about his young lover. But... All the same, she was afraid.
What if he wasn't happy? What if this ruined everything he had going for him, this first year of his reign? It was just a month shy of his coronation day and he was not even yet married... To sire a bastard was not unheard of, but what would that do for her? An unmarried woman with a child was not marriage material. And an unmarried queen at that? What would the world think of her then? But... It didn't matter. She'd allowed this to happen, besides Jon was a good man, he wouldn't let her suffer because of this? No, of course he wouldn't. "Sansa..." His voice brought her back and she realized silence had lapsed, as she'd been unable to find the right words to use yet.
She supposed it was best to just get out with it and so she opened her mouth, looking Jon in the eye as the words left her lips. "I'm pregnant." He did not move at first, did not even speak as the words she spoke registered within his mind. In truth, he remained so solemn she wasn't even quite sure that he had heard her. His hands cupped both of her cheeks into his palms, his dark eyes meeting her own blue ones as a single tear slipped free. "Say something, please Jon just say something." She urged him sofly, her hands clinging to the front of his shirt, her pleading eyes seeking his. In truth, she was beginning to worry that he was displeased to hear the words she'd just spoken. And if that was the case... Then what would she do?
But Jon's silence was not from unhappiness, nor even worry... It was just pure surprise that kept him from speaking to her. Besides, there were no words for him to say; what could he say to the woman he loved when she told him she carried his heir in her belly? Nothing seemed to make sense, nothing else really seemed to matter right then, right there. A warm feeling was rushing through him, a feeling he could not equate to anything at all, a feeling so strong it could rival that of the sun and Jon sucked in a breath. "Marry me." He said simply, saying the only words that could ever make sense right then. Sansa gave a startled sort of chuckle but then Jon shook his head, clutching her cheeks a bit tighter. "Marry me, Sansa." He echoed, staring into her eyes as tears threatened to overflow from them, on her lips a trembling little smile.
But then she nodded and just like that, everything began to make sense again.
Jon took her into his arms then, holding her as fiercely as he dared, breathing in her sweet scent while thought after though rushed through his mind. A child... His child, his heir... He could still barely wrap his brain around those words Sansa had just spoken. But above everything else, he knew he had to do what was right for Sansa, as well as their child. And that was to make them legitimate long before they were ever even born. It wasn't just the child that urged him to marry her... Jon knew in his heart that he loved Sansa with every ounce of his being. He would marry he because he loved her.
Taking a single step back, he dropped down to his knees, hands sliding down the length of her body until they fell upon the still yet flat plane of her stomach. "I love you," he whispered as he felt her hands slide into the mess of his hair, her fingers tugging through the tangled locks. "I will protect you," he tipped his head back to look up at her smiling face, her blue eyes bright in her face, and Jon felt his heat beat flutter. How had he become so lucky? Rising back up he took her face into his hands again and kissed her, strong and true, hoping that it spoke every word he was unable to say.
[ x x x ]
When the news broke just two days later that the King of the Seven Kingdoms (though, six now, one had to suppose since the North had become its own kingdom) had selected a bride, the people and nobles alike were ecstatic. Finally, there could be dynasty to follow that the people could be proud of. Finally, there would be stability for all seven kingdoms and the crown itself. Finally, there would be real, lasting peace.
Not a single soul in the court was surprised when that very next day, Sansa appeared at Jon's side at the weekly gathering for townsfolk to speak of their problems with their monarch, an old custom done away with when Joffrey had taken the throne some years ago. The only surprise was when she spoke with the men with as much dignity and wisdom as rulers twice her age, offering advice and encouragement to every man that came before her. The young Queen of the North was quickly proving herself to be quite worthy of the crown she wore and the one she would wear soon enough.
The wedding was happening much sooner than Tyrion would have liked, but he began the arrangements without much fuss. Sansa knew that their time was running out before she would begin to show and the last thing she wanted to do was cause a scandal before she'd even sworn the coronation oath. She could only hope that the court would simply be more excited over an heir to worry about how early the conception seemed to be.
And so it was only a week out from the royal wedding and already noble men and women from every continent seemed to be arriving on their doorstep. Noble man after noble man did she meet and with him came his wife and sometimes even their children. There were so many faces, so many accents, so many names she'd already begun to forget... She supposed she didn't have to remember them all, anyways, as most would be gone a day or so after the wedding. Every evening she went to bed more exhausted than the night before but it was always with a smile upon her face. In truth, she lived for this sort of stuff; the politics of running a court, the smoothing over of various problems and dilemmas. It seemed she enjoyed it much more than Jon did, who welcomed her at his side at all possible times, himself enjoying it when she spoke her mind as she so often did. He supposed he had no better choice in a bride, when it came right down to it; Sansa was smart and well versed in all things politics and court life. She'd lived it, after all. She was charming and intelligent, her wit often causing ever the most somber of men to chuckle. She was everything a queen should be and he was incredibly lucky to have her as his.
"We shall hear from one more man," Jon called out from his place on his throne, Sansa beside him like the ruling queen she'd been born to be. On her right was Tyrion, who often joined them in these meetings with the townsfolk, as he had used to do when his own father had conducted them in the days of King Robert. "Bring him in." The steward opened the door and in came one single man, his clothing worn but clean, his freshly shaved face beaming with a smile as he approached the dais.
"Your grace," he said in turn to both of them, offering a short little bow before them. When he stood upright, his smile had returned and he tilted his head ever so slightly. "It is an honor to stand before you both." He went on, his eyes straying from Jon's to Sansa's for only a moment.
"And do you have a matter to speak on?" Jon asked, shifting upon his throne, wanting nothing more than to stretch his tired legs.
"Indeed. I am here to humbly ask you take my oldest daughter into your court to work." That was when Sansa noticed the young girl there, a girl of only ten or so, looking uncomfortable as she hid behind her father. "I cannot care for her and the other children, not since their mother died." The man's voice shook as he spoke, his eyes full of the anguish he must have felt in that moment. "I cannot offer her what she deserves in this world. She's a good girl, her mother taught her well." The man looked from Jon to Sansa then, his eyes pleading as their gazes me. "Please, your grace, she will be most helpful to you I assure you." This was a man desperate to give his child the care she so rightly deserved. This was a man desperate to protect his children, to save them from starvation and certain death. Though the thought of leaving her there at the palace broke his heart, the girl's father knew it was what was best for her life.
"Come here, child." Sansa spoke softly, raising a hand to gesture at the young girl to come forward. Though she looked as if she'd rather do anything else, the child took a few steps towards the dais. "Closer." Sansa offered her an encouraging smile that seemed to put a little pep in her step and a moment later, the girl was standing right before her. "What is your name?"
"Alys," the girl whispered, glancing back over her shoulder at her father, who's smile must have given a bit of comfort. She returned her gaze back to Sansa's, taking in the sight of her face, surprised at how warm the young queen's stare was. It sort of reminded her of her mother's. But more intimidating still was the young man beside the Northern queen, for Alys knew that this was the King of the Seven Kingdoms, the most powerful man in all of Westeros. Her father wanted for her to come to his palace to serve him as her own mother had once done for the previous ruler, Cersei, but Alys was scared. Unlike her mother who had seemed to be frightened of nothing, Alys was frightened of everything. Especially leaving home.
Sansa looked over the child one more time, thinking about how alone and frightened she had felt back then, when she had lost her own mother. The poor girl had lost her mother at such a crucial point in her young life and Sansa felt the same pain she must have felt. "Of course we shall take her in." Sansa ruled without another thought, giving Jon only one glance, happy to see the smile on his lips. "But she will be housed with my own handmaidens." The man looked up, his eyes full of surprise and so Sansa offered him a small smile. "Return her to us when you are ready." She went on, gesturing for the young girl to return to her father's side, so she may return home and say her proper goodbye's to her siblings.
"Thank you, your grace." The man cried softly as he took Alys back into his arms, his relief evident. "Thank you." He steered her towards the main double doors, pausing for just one moment to cast a glance over his shoulder at the two upon their thrones, but then was gone to prepare his oldest child to leave home. But, he'd secured a future for her that he never could have given her, had he'd kept her at home. Of his four children, Alys had always been his favoite, though he knew it was wrong to have one. He couldn't help it though- with her sweet, soft nature, Alys had always had his heart since the day she was born. And now.. He would finally do right by her.
"That was kind of you," Tyrion spoke first as he came around to stand more in front of the throne rather than beside it. "But what is a child going to do for you as a handmaiden?" The girl was much too young for court life, if one asked Tyrion. It did not matter who sat upon the throne, the court would always be scheming and manipulative, would always have men who would prey upon the innocence of a young girl.
"She will grow, Tyrion." Sansa smiled as she fixed the little man with her piercing blue eyes. "Besides, better she grow here rather than out there where her future is decidedly less fortunate." Truthfully, Sansa felt deeply the need to protect the young girl with no mother, knowing how hard it was to grow up as such without anyone at all to guide her along. At least now, Alys could have a future she'd not had outside the palace. Tyrion supposed he could not argue with such a statement and so he bowed, allowing himself to be dismissed by Jon who was rising up from his throne.
"Come, let us finally eat," Jon said as he offered her his hand, helping her up onto her feet. "That was indeed a kind thing you've done, Sansa," he said as he swept her towards a door behind their thrones, behind that door a private hall that would lead them to his quarters. "It will change her life and hopefully ease the lives of her family with one less mouth to feed." Jon knew Sansa well enough to know the truth behind her taking in the motherless girl, but he'd learned already not to get her worked up in her current state. Her emotions seemed unstable these last few days and Jon had learned the hard way what happened when she got upset. He wasn't about to go down that route again.
"She will be a good girl." Sansa predicted as Jon held the door open for her, allowing her to slip by him, stepping into the presence chamber of his rooms. The dining table had already been set up and the room was ablaze with candlelight. "Oh, Jon..." She murmured as she turned to face him, his grin enough to bring a smile to her own face.
"This is to be our last dinner together before we are married," Jon said by way of explanation, knowing that the next few days would be a blur of preparations. He wanted just one last moment with her as they were. He felt her hand slip into his, giving it a tender squeeze, and Jon leaned in to brush his lips against hers. In only a few days, they would be married, and he knew they would not see much of one another until that moment. Breaking away, he gently tugged her towards the lavish dinner table, pulling out the chair for her to sit in before taking to another chair himself.
And then they shared a dinner that would remain in his memory for all his life. Little moments embedded into his memory that would last a lifetime; her smile, her laugh, her clear blue eyes all imprinted upon his heart. Life simply made sense with her at his side and he could not begin to understand how he'd gotten so lucky. To think, it only a few days she'd be his wife, and soon enough be the mother of his child... It was all more than he could have ever expected out of this life. He fell more in love with her with every passing day and Jon knew he had everything he'd ever wanted.
He was the luckiest man alive.