authorsnote: reading my old authorsnotes is fun.
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songrecs: shallow - a star is born
'Life is not a song sweetling. Someday you may learn that, to your sorrow'
- Petyr Baelish to Sansa Stark
-x-
Sansa knew they were in trouble, big trouble.
How were they supposed to explain their, her actions? How were they supposed to convince her Father, a man who had always seen through her lies in seconds of whatever tale Jon was about to spin.
Sansa trusted Jon more than anyone in the world, but even he wasn't that good of a liar, neither was she … almost maybe, but not quite.
After all what could they say? They hadn't prepared for this, which in hindsight had been stupid. They had assumed they would be able to fool their family, that they'd be able to hide what had happened to them and slip back into things, clearly, they had been wrong.
Though, perhaps it was just her fault, Jon had eased in without a blink, stoic Jon who never betrayed anything, this was her mess, now they would have to clean it up.
Her stomach was churning, and she clasped her hands in front of her to stop them shaking. She was nervous yes, but managed to calm herself, to cover her expression as Jon did with ease. This was her Father, they were safe with him, they just had to be careful not to reveal anything. She was a seasoned liar now, Jon too, they shouldn't be worried.
Shouldn't though didn't mean she wasn't.
It was odd to be in the solar again, and yet it was not as it had been. They were just visitors now. Back in their world it had belonged to Jon, as King it had been his right, though she had often occupied it as well. It was a power dynamic shift she would need to get used to, that they no longer held that power. On her way to the dining hall earlier she'd walked past one of the servants and it been odd to see they no longer answered to her as they once had, just as the soldiers would no longer answer to Jon.
They had gone from ruling to being children again, it was strange and something they'd need to get used to.
Sansa hadn't considered how it would be to be treated like a child again, to no longer be a voice of power and authority in Winterfell. She hadn't considered how angry she would get at her Mother in her treatment of Jon … hence their current position.
They had planned extensively about what would come in the future, what they needed to focus on, but hadn't thought of any of the little things, foolish in hindsight, but they were here now and would have to adapt.
A nudge to her knee made her realise she was drifting away with her thoughts as she sometimes did (and Jon often broke her out of with a wry smile), and she quickly snapped herself back to the present. She could lament on their lack of preparation later, for now she needed to focus.
"Sansa, Jon" Her Father spoke, and his voice was deep, commanding, kind, Jon had inherited some of that, the commanding tone that was still gentle enough to be respected but not feared. It made people feel at ease and Jon had certainly inherited that too, it seemed to be a male Stark trait, the ability to put people at ease with nothing more than a pat to the shoulder or a soft word. Sansa knew it was only men who had inherited that, she certainly didn't have that easy comfort giving skill, not anymore at least, and Arya had never had it. But there was an edge to her Fathers tone this time, and she knew it was because of what had happened in the hall.
"Do you want to tell me what happened back in the hall?" She heard that tone to his voice, that edge, the one of concern but also the firmness that told her they needed to come up with an answer and soon, and again she thought to herself, how the hell were they supposed to get out of this? She resisted the urge to shoot Jon a panicked glance, that would only bring more suspicion, she kept her gaze forward as her Father continued.
Despite the panic swirling in her she betrayed nothing, and one glance at Jon under her lashes told her he didn't either, a good start.
"I'm pleased to see you getting along better, and though it warms me to see you being nicer to your brother but Sansa?" He looked at her then and though Sansa had once been a Queen, in front of her Fathers hard gaze she felt like a little girl again, she felt like her mind matched her body for a moment, it was disconcerting. "Defying your mother like that? Speaking like you did?" As he looked away from her to Jon, she gulped down some nerves, "And Jon, I've never seen you act so … close with your sister"
Sansa knew he was being diplomatic with his words then and a shiver chased up Sansa's spine.
"I'd like to know where these changes have come from, how they came about, explain" He said his voice harder now, and Sansa again resisted the urge to look at Jon, and instead opened her mouth to speak. It was only when she felt a hand squeeze her knee did she close her mouth, she knew Jon was telling her to be quiet, and rather than argue back as she normally would she just gave a small nod and kept quiet.
He had said he would handle it, and she believed he would, she was the better liar but not here, not with her Father, Jon knew that.
"Lord Stark, Father" She heard Jon's little slip and she barely concealed a wince. She knew this was strange to him, to see her Father in the chair that had once been his, to see Ice stood in the corner whole once more, to not have Longclaw himself. To see the man who had raised him but was not his true Father sat as Warden in the North, to have no King in the North as their should be, it was difficult.
Difficult to see her Father and not feel a hint of resentment at hiding his parentage, secrets kept for so long.
Secrets they had learned and weathered together and ultimately the truth had been for the better.
The truth of Jons birth had led way to their feelings for one another and had allowed them to marry, as cousins. Still, it was hard to process, that here and now her Father knew that and kept it as a secret, didn't know Jon and Sansa knew.
"There is nothing to worry about Father" Jon said, a tight smile on his features that was almost convincing, it didn't convince her but then she knew him too well, and Sansa had become very good at reading people, months in the Vale with Littlefinger did that to people. Still, it was convincing, as were his words as he ploughed on.
"Sansa and I have grown closer father, I've been privately tutoring her with her numbers, you know she was struggled" Sansa near rolled her eyes at that, and shot him a glare, though she did nod. It was a dull excuse but a believable one, in fact in their time he had tutored her on the numbers she hated so much whilst she had drilled him on courtly etiquette, they had both hated it and even shared their first kiss over one particularly frustrating lesson, but that was to think on another time, for now she noticed her Father did not seem ready to let this go yet, as believable as the excuse was.
"It's not that I don't believe you Jon, I do" He paused then and Sansa took a deep breath, here it was, "It's just that the way you two were looking at one another, it's unusual" He said, and her worry increased, had her Father caught on to the looks they shared, the familiarity between them? Stupid of her, they had planned for this, had said they would ignore one another more and distance themselves, but the ease between them could not be erased, they had to be more careful, here they were siblings, not man and wife, they had to watch themselves more and be vigilant.
"It just seems and feels as though something has changed between the two of you" Her Father spoke again. She didn't want to argue with him, and she hadn't wanted to argue with her Mother, but she had just felt so swept up … it was much more difficult than she had anticipated to act like her 14 year old self; she had changed too much between then and her 20th nameday … more than she ever could have thought, it wasn't easy slipping back to how she had been.
And it was harder still as part of her didn't want to slip back into that role. She had been a foolish child, so caught up in songs and stupidity she hadn't seen the beauty of the North, hadn't seen her place in Winterfell, she didn't want to be that stupid girl again, though she may have to act like it.
"We're just closer Father, as siblings" Jon said then, but she saw him wince and she almost did, for the way he felt about her, it was not as brother and sister, it never had been as brother and sister, even at this age, they had never been siblings, nor acted like them. That was what had allowed them to grow close as they had, in a different way. They had never treated one another as siblings and so something else had been able to grow between them, in closeness something else had flourished.
"Yes Father" Sansa agreed, nodded along with Jon, "It is like me and Robb" God she felt like she might throw up at that thought, and she knew Jon would feel the same way. They were not like her and Robb, Robb she loved as a brother, Jon she loved as a husband, but for now? She had to act like they were the same or risk her Father prying further.
And they couldn't have that.
"It's just, as half siblings, you have to be careful not to seem too close" Her Father said then, evidently choosing his words carefully, "The way you looked at one another, worryingly, it reminded me of how Lady Stark and I are look at one another"
Lady Stark … Sansa frowned at that, from their time she had been Lady Stark, Jon Lord Stark and then King and Queen. She was still a Lady now, but not really, she had no lands or holds, no titles or responsibilities. Again, her eyes fell to her Fathers chair, there was that shift in power dynamic again, here it was her Fathers chair, not Jon's, something she'd need to get used to.
They had no power here, and though she didn't care about losing the titles, she knew it would be a struggle not to be the Queen, to have that authority and decision making.
Of course, they'd known all of this when they'd started on this pathway … but it was very different living it, than just planning it.
"And at your age, on the threshold of adulthood, it's difficult" Her Father continued, choosing his words carefully, but Sansa understood his meaning, as did Jon, as he glanced at her with worry. She understood her Father sensed something was different between them, something he could not allow, under the pretext they were siblings, and Jon was a bastard … but of course that wasn't actually the case, not that they could point that out of course, as to her Father neither of them knew the truth.
Sansa mulled over how perceptive her father was, and how they could get around this… how could they convince their Father they were the same as he remembered them? Siblings, frosty with one another, not cousins, now deeply in love and used to being in love, a love so close it shadowed all around it? When they had planned, this had been an afterthought, they had been sure they wouldn't be spotted. Clearly, they should have spent more time on this, much more time, as they had been noticed too easily.
Again, she felt bad at generalising in her mind to 'they', she had been the one to be caught, not Jon. Put a knife in someone's back (metaphorically) and she'd do so without so much as a hint to her plan, but acting neutral around Jon? When her Mother had derided him? Evidently that she couldn't do.
She supposed she had to give herself some credit, she knew Jon wouldn't be so stoic if she were threatened.
"Sansa, soon you'll be betrothed, we've had several enquiries about your hand" She snapped out of her thoughts then, her eyes going wide, and she felt the squeeze of Jon's hand on her knee, thankfully obscured by her Fathers desk. He wasn't trying to catch her attention, just unhappy at the topic at hand, at the idea of her being married to another.
Which Sansa would never consent to, she was Jons, no none elses.
She remembered their words under the Heart Tree.
'I take this man'
'I take this woman'
Always.
"Harrion Karstark, Arthur Glenmore, Cley Cerywn, all options in the North, and then South, many eligible Heirs to Lordships and Keeps, and then Prince Joffrey, you know how Robert wishes to unite our houses" Sansa flinched at the last, though thankfully her Father hadn't noticed, as he continued on.
"Any closeness with your siblings that isn't simply platonic … it's not right, and it's dangerous. I'm not suggesting anything, just pointing out why one should be careful" He finished.
Sansa knew he was suggesting something, indicating he had seen a closeness between them, perhaps suspected more but for now was simply warning them, she wondered why he hadn't responded with disgust, as most would if faced with incestuous children … but then he knew Jon's truth, he knew they weren't siblings, perhaps that was why he was warning rather than scolding them.
"Father" Jon spoke again for which Sansa was glad, she didn't want to open her mouth as she felt she'd end up just end up loudly protesting the idea of any betrothal. They had changes to make first before the subject of Prince Joffrey came up again, plans to make before the King came and before her Father suggested any other marriage proposals.
Those things they had planned for, she would never marry anyone else. In her mind she was already a woman wed, and her husband was sat next to her, holding onto her knee, evidently keeping his own frustrations and feelings at bay… at least for the moment.
This they'd spoken about, about how in this world Sansa had been bugging her parents for weeks about going South, had sworn off the Old Gods for the Seven, had been desperate to meet the Prince and be Queen one day. They had laughed at the latter, how desperate she had been to become Queen … and in their world she had been, just not in the way either could have predicted. They had been sombre as they had discussed the situation in the South, of where she'd be expected to go, but if there plans worked would never set foot in…not yet at least.
"I will say no more" Her Father finished, stopping Jon in his tracks, "But I don't expect to see the two of you ... interacting in this way again, now Sansa off to your lessons, Jon, you too" And with that he dismissed them without another word, clearly he had more to think over, as did they; they had a lot of thinking to do, a lot indeed.
Sansa had more to say, wanted to make her stance on a betrothal known now, but in this instance she reeled herself back, she could not be controlled by her emotions, it was weakness.
What had Cersei said to her? The woman she despised yes, but had learnt a great many lessons from.
'Love no one but your children, on that front a Mother has no choice, any other love is a weakness us women cannot afford'
She was right in that, there was a weakness to loving Jon, as evidenced by her outburst, but their was a strength too and she'd happily weather the weaknesses for what Jon gave her.
She just had to be careful.
And so, she stood to her feet, Jon followed, and they left the solar, what had once been there's. She did glance back just once, not to her Father but to something she'd spied on the wall, that had been long gone by the time Jon had inherited this room.
It was a portrait of the Stark family, but not her siblings, her Fathers.
His Father, her Grandfather Rickard Stark stood in the middle, hand on the shoulder of who had to be Brandon, Benjen hanging onto his brothers' hand. Then stood Lyanna, smiling brightly next to Eddard, who was grinning at his little sister. These were the Starks that had come before her, her Father, Grandfather and then Jon's Mother, all together.
She only got one last glance before the door swung shut behind them and Jon took her hand, pulling her down the corridor to his room, quickly so they would not been seen, as she followed him, their cloaks billowing out behind them, Ghost and Lady at their feet as they hurried through the Winterfell corridors.
They had much to discuss.
Once they reached his room, Jon shut the door behind them, bolted it, and pushed a chair against it for good measure. He hurried around to pull a curtain across the lone window, checked his bathroom for anyone before turning back to Sansa, his Sansa.
As she was his, she would always be his, as he was hers, and he intended to keep it that way.
He'd barely kept it together in his Uncles solar when he had spoken of offer's to Sansa's hand, and the possibility of her betrothal. Only years of experience of keeping calm and stoic allowed him to keep his emotions in check when that subject had come up. It had been difficult, and he knew he had squeezed her knee a bit too tightly, but it was that or lash out and reveal their true position, and his feelings for whom he was supposed to view as his sister.
But she wasn't his sister, never had been really, as they had never acted as such. When she had found him at the Wall, and then back in Winterfell … the sibling bond had never been there, and something else had been allowed to grow, something deeper than that of siblings, something better, and from there it had spiralled.
He had fallen quickly, Sansa too, and they had never looked back.
He could still remember the first time she had fallen into his arms, it had been an unremarkable day, like any other, and yet when she had come to his room that night, the Lord's chambers (as she insisted he should have), he had been prepared for their usual routine, the usual back and forth chat, and then settling into bed, side by side (never mind the whispers), to simply hold hands as they drifted to sleep - for neither could sleep without nightmares without one another close, it was easier, comfortable, but that night had differed in that.
In more ways than one…
"I love you Jon" Her voice was soft, but with the edge that had crept in ever since they had been reunited, an edge that spoke of her hardship. Part of him wished he could take it away, the other understood it, and simply promised himself he'd never let her voice grow any colder.
Another part of him was proud of her, proud she had endured what she had and come out stronger, but still he would not let her voice darken anymore.
"As I love you" And then he had leaned forward to kiss her forehead, as he always did, but in the dark, his lips instead had brushed her nose, she giggled in response, and he too had laughed, before realising how close they were, how her hand had come to rest in his hair, tangled in his curls, how his hand was on her cheek, his thumb smoothing back and forth over her delicate skin.
"Jon…" But before she could say another word, he had leaned down, to brush his lips against hers, like the lightest flutter of a butterfly's wing, before pulling back, worried he had overstepped … until she had pushed forward, her lips harder against his, soft still but with intent, and from there … it had been perfect.
Afterward, when they had been lying in a tangle of sheets, her cheeks flushed red, the bloodstains on the sheets ignored, his chest heaving, a thin layer of sweat over their both their bodies, she had spoken, grinning from ear to ear in a way of such abandon he hadn't seen in a while, "I wondered when you'd finally kiss me"
He laughed in response, and rolled back on top of her, and pulled her lips to his once again.
"I love you" She said as they lay down to rest after the second time and he kissed her again, this time on the lips.
"I love you too" He said, and they fell asleep in one another's arms, that night and every night after. Never to be parted again.
And he wasn't about to let that change.
His mind focused back on the present then and he moved forward, to Sansa, needing her in his arms then, held her close for just a moment where she willingly went, clearly needing the same thing. He clutched her tight, but she voiced no complaint and only gripped at him.
It had been a trying morning, a lot on both of them and they needed this, they needed this moment, a moment to just be with one another, to allow the tension to fade, the stress to go away. She needed to hold him, to know he was here with her, and he needed to hold her, to know she was his, always.
'I take this man'
'I take this woman'
They had said, and they would honour it.
"You are mine, and I am yours" He said into her fire-red hair, the hair he loved so much, the hair that had the wildlings and eventually the Northmen call her 'kissed by fire'.
"Mine and yours" He repeated. She didn't reply with words, but a nod into his chest, before bringing her lips to his, a kiss that they both desperately needed, and melted into. A sigh of relief left his lips and a pleased sigh left hers as they sank into the kiss, as they let the pleasure of an embrace take them for a few moments.
He broke free after a few moments, but only to rest his forehead against hers, as she did his, he tipped his down and she leaned up, as they did not move, his hands to her waist, hers on his chest. He could stay like this forever.
"I am yours and you are mine" She said and the simple unpanicked tone to her voice calmed him, calmed him more than anything, though he did not let her go, he just nodded against her, where they stayed for too long really, and yet neither could pull away, neither wanted to pull away, not ever.
"Mine and yours"
pure jon and sansa, they are so in love, but it won't be easy going for them...
let me know watcha thought
speak soon