Please inform me of any typos- they're hard to spot. Keep reviewing, hopefully the site will synch them to me, and I'll be able to read them, I would love to read them.

The celebration ended, once everyone had consumed enough until no man not even the septon was left sober and standing firm. The women cackled, as they danced amongst themselves. The men that had decided to stop knocking back the wine before they passed out, arose and announced. "The bedding is nigh!" There were less than six men still up and about, trying desperately to incite each other to whisk the Queen away to the marital bed. The ladies just danced merrily in circles around the tables, ignoring all plans.

"Good women- attend to your King!" A man tried to point at the man he believed to be the King, he ended up gesturing at some guard. A woman broke off from her circle and fell at the feet of the said guard- and used his clothing to climb up.

"Your grace, you have no beard- wherest thou beard?"

Sansa snorted at the shenanigans, everybody was disgustingly drunk- a horrid display, a funny display- if only she could have such fun, alas she was the only one sober, and it worked in her favour. No one would be able to conduct the ceremony if everyone was blind drunk.

Davos stood near the Queen, and acted as a buffer, in case any man dare lay a hand on her gown to shred it. She looked to her right and found her King resting his chin in his palm, he had propped his elbow on the arm of his chair. Dropping off to sleep, his head bobbing as if he were fighting it. His goblet had been refilled over and over by Davos, and Jon had downed them all but one, which still sat on the table. Sansa slowly stood from her seat "I'm tired, I best retire, have someone bring the King."

Davos cast an eye to Jon. "I would implore your lady folk to escort their King."

Sansa shook her head. "But the men will follow their lead and take me, I don't want to be stripped." They were still bumbling about, the red bearded man was so close- she could smell his pelts. "Tormund, steady." She spoke to him like he was a horse.

"Daughter of Winterfell, you shall be taken this night." He said that an awful lot. That's when the singing started. It was the Northman's daughter song. Oh dear. She put a chair between her and the assailants.

"Sansa use your voice!" At first she thought the advisor meant sing to them, but Davos raised a hand. "Hang on, men!"

"-I can take myself to bed, thank you very much!" There was sighs of resignation and boos. "But please have someone assist my husband." They probably wanted some female nudity- but they'd have to find that in a brothel. The able men and women of the night managed to winch Jon out of his chair, he protested, and gestured to the door, trying to convince them he can walk himself. But after a minute or so of grinding into a table and chair- they swamped him- half shoving and half carrying him out through the hall's main doors.

Sansa glided through the hall, a couple of yards behind them. Her train had gotten stood on that many times, she was forced to the back of the procession. The Queen could just make out the King's head flopping back, his curls clinging to his face. "He'll strain his neck, support it." She commanded, they raised his head- and she could no longer see the dazed look on his features. She was being shadowed by her advisor, the man that had adamantly reassured her nothing was going to happen. May the gods bless him. "When you advised him…" She heard them kick the master chamber's doors in, and then pile through. "Was he in accordance with you?"

Davos furrowed his brows, he looked from the crowd to her. "What do you mean?"

Sansa mirrored him. How was that a hard question? "Did he agree that it was best to leave the bedding for another night?"

Davos nodded. "Eventually."

It was just one word, but it gave her so many doubts, and brought many more questions to mind. They heard bed springs, she guessed they must have chucked him from a great height onto the bed. "I don't think he would go back on his word…" He twirled his finger as a signal for her to turn around, she obliged suspiciously, and he removed her cloak- she went stiff. "Don't worry, it's just for show- your subjects need to believe you are going to fulfil the...well he fulfils you with-"He went all mumbly and embarrassed towards the end, she perfectly understood.

"Of course, but I don't see how they could believe it's still going ahead, they are aware we were once-" She began to whisper, but suddenly did a double take when she saw someone spinning her husband's trousers over their heads. "My husband isn't even fully awake."

"Men don't have to be awake." He said with husk as if he was stifling a laugh. "Did you hear that a man's cock has a mind of its own, and it can at times wake up before he does?" He could tell she was mortified by this information. "Like I said, you probably aren't going to do anything tonight- but everyone would assume if you did, you would be riding him tonight."He gave her a fairly abashed smile. "I wouldn't say that's the best way to do it, since he wouldn't remember anything."

Sansa raised her hand to shush him. "Unless that was why he drank so much?" Her face didn't convey how she felt about that. "So he was definitely in accordance with you?"

"Well according to him, you didn't have to do anything- which I assumed meant, nothing was going to happen." He was vague.

Assumptions. Everybody was making them. So far Davos was telling her he believed Jon would have gone through with it if he had been advised otherwise. "So he doesn't need my compliance." It came out grudgingly, but she wouldn't have said it at all, if she wasn't so anxious. "I bid you goodnight."

"Tell everyone."

Sansa raised her voice to the swarm. "I bid you all goodnight, I hope yours is as... fruitful as mine!"

Davos favoured this out of all the things he had heard that night, he would have retorted if he hadn't been drowned out by a load of whistles and dirty chuckles. Davos managed to herd everyone back to the hall, leaving Sansa in a doorway to her chambers, staring at her King.

Poor Jon, had been partly stripped and half tucked into the bed. Limp and peaceful. Limp alright. She assumed he had looked the same when he was dead, before they had brought him back. Back from the dead. That was certainly a mood killer. She closed the doors, and there was an ominous boom as they met- sealing her from the rest of the world. There was a spitting noise that came from the embers in the fireplace, it lit the room with an apocalyptic amber, and bathed her husband with a soothing colour, opposed to the deathly pale one. His head suddenly rose from the pillow. Sansa started, a hand on her heart. "Gods."

Jon grinned, blowing a curl from his face. "I thought it had gone quiet."

Slightly irked, she edged around the room, giving her husband a four metre radius, staring at his very wakeful face. He didn't appear drunk anymore, that's if- he ever was. Her hand had not left her chest. "Why do that?"

The sheet fell from his torso as he sat up, he propped himself with locked arms. "They would have never left if I had been sober and active, and keenness might have frightened you off." His voice was hoarse as usual when he was quiet. But his broad accent always made him sound hoarse, he took after her father. But there was a chance it wasn't his father."Wine, sweetheart?"

The new Queen shook her head. But he still reached for a pitcher of wine to fill two vessels on the side table, his sheet moved further south with his efforts. Sansa remained perfectly still, as if her own movement would pull at the covers as well. He clocked her over the rim of his goblet as he drank deeply.

When the wedding was suggested she remembered he was against it, and now he was taking it in his stride. She believed his calm was probably due to the drink. Sansa recalled this man used to be afraid of girls. Look at him now. But she wasn't a random girl to get bashful over, she had been brought up his half-sister, and his ladyship, surely nothing had changed. Sansa glanced away- pretending to check out the fire.

"I bet that has been lit for hours, it's stifling in here." She toyed with her sleeves, releasing some of the heat.

As if on cue, Jon arose from the bed, the sheet fell away completely- and he made a definitive move towards her.

Sansa's eyes had flitted to him as he had got up, but soon found their way back to the fire when she realised he was almost naked- although there was some coverage below the waist, known as skivies "I'm surprised it's lasted so long." Changing the subject was easy, but the nudity couldn't be sidestepped. There was warmth that radiated from him, as his form filled her side vision. Oh Gods. She swallowed her fear and focused on his face, it was neutral at that moment- as if gauging her reaction. Luckily he was so close she couldn't see anything unless she looked down. "Your grace." She managed, as her heart fought its way out of her chest. He gave a single nasal huff, and brought his hands to her bodice, his finger hooked onto a draw string, Sansa felt its weight and intentions.

"Someone painstakingly kept this fire going, so we would have no need for clothes."

She stared him down, waiting for his face to crack into a smile and for him to say. 'Just joking- you should see your face!' It never came, she just saw the storm in those stranger's eyes, one that could break free, destroy the room and leave her dress in tatters. Nothing was going to happen… you don't have to do anything… lay the foundations first before you build a castle … An obligation… Kings and Queens can't behave like children… their first time conceived Robb.

The bow of the cord of her bodice was undone, and then every stitch was tugged forward, to stretch the bridge between the whale bone. It was pulling away from her skin, threatening to free her bosom. Jon at first seemed interested with what he was doing, but then he fixated on her face- she tried to avoid those probing eyes, despite their need to hold onto hers. She imagined her body felt quite pliant, being as her arms remained by her side as Jon began to lay siege to her dress. His callous fingers crept past the drawstrings and inside the bodice, as if about to forcibly pull it apart. That was when Sansa snapped out of her passive trance, her hands came up to meet his elbows. She wasn't sure what she was going to do; either halt him, or take over herself. The game changer was when Jon, reeking of wine and ale sort her mouth, and she whimpered like a pup that had had its paw stood on. He froze, withdrawing slowly to look upon her.

She didn't know what was worse; the ordeal that had just taken place- how far it would have gone on if she hadn't have made a sound. That appeared to have bothered him. Or was the worst of it all the aftermath, the look on Jon's face- a hard stare. If it were an open mouthed stare- she would have been less up-tight. But his mouth was shut, his cupid's bow was less defined. A kingly face he had on, one that would make her throw herself at his feet - just to avoid. Jon. She silently begged. The hardness dissolved into an expression she was familiar with, uncertain and cautious- with parted lips. His eye-line dipped, probably to look at her state of dress it looked like she had got into a fight with a bear."Change into your nightgown and come to bed."

Sansa didn't believe that was a command, it was more of a gesture, he kept scouring the room, seeing if she did have anything to put on. This was her room, and she saw nothing of hers in it, the King owned everything. Even her. Jon finally snared a pile of fabric on a chair and unravelled it- he then chucked it her, she caught it between her arm and bodice, and she held it there for modesty. "That'll be yours, get it on and get into bed…" The urgency in his voice made him sound angry, though it could have been embarrassment, she highly doubted that. Kings don't get embarrassed. "Don't make me send for a maid- you can undress yourself, can't you?" She kept her head low to hide her shame, as she travelled to the room divider.

There were diamond holes in the device, so she felt she had to duck low to give her some privacy- though if he allowed her this courtesy- why would he try to peek? Through a gap she spied her husband inspecting the bed. At least he wasn't inspecting her. She slipped out of everything, letting it pile up of the floor. Then she pulled the winter nightgown over her head and smoothed it into place. Though she had finished, she didn't know what awaited her. Listen to yourself, you were brought up with this man, he's not going to… Her gulp was audible.

Assumptions, she had been wrong before. People had made promises and broke them. Joffrey promised he would be merciful. She winced at that memory, the very reason the family were ripped apart was because she was too dumb to listen to her father's advice. But Sansa was all too eager to listen to Queen Cersei, her former idol, and Joffrey- her first crush.

Sansa peered around the wooden divider. Jon was lounging in the bed, he noticed her peering around immediately, and perked up. "Done?"

She self consciously emerged from behind the screen, and meekly made her way towards the bed, trying her best to ignore Jon watching her. She drew level with him, and cagily folded the wolf skin back so she could clamber in. Sansa left a two foot gap when slithering into bed next to him, she pulled the cover right up to her chin and found a spot to stare at on the canopy. Silence became them.

"…."

"..."

The Queen was sure he was staring at the canopy too. Some rustling broke the stillness, it came from under the blanket, she hoped he was just getting comfortable. "W-what are you doing?"

"Taking off my braies." He huffed, trying to do everything discreetly. But he was lifting her half of the blanket to do so. She had to pat it down, so he didn't see her body. She heard something hit the floor and knew the deed was done. "I heard noble men sleep in the nude." Jon explained, gauging her reaction.

She closed her eyes, as if that would give her another barrier. "Never have I heard that."

"It's a little dangerous I must admit. How can a man jump up and defend himself, if he isn't ready?"

"Then why-"

"-Because I've never slept nude, these are the best sheets I've ever felt- I damn well want to feel them. More skin, more contact." He brought his arms over the sheet, pinning it across his chest.

More contact. "I understand." She said simply, but she couldn't relate- she just didn't want to object. "You are King." She sensed him look over, while she burned the canopy with her eyes.

That uneasy stillness was there, the type that could build up a lot of tension and a lot of sweat. He cleared his throat, and she knew he was waiting...for something. The king had begun to drum his fingers on the wolf pelts. She had to do something to quell the heightened energy in the bedchamber- "Goodnight, Jon."