And I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more — Franz Kafka
Sansa was walking through the corridors of the castle, trying to figure it out what to do. She was running out of ideas.
Since her last encounter with Jon she had tried to keep herself busy; to put some distance between them … but she was growing tired of needlework.
She tried to distract herself by riding her horse and reading some books but after almost a month doing the exact same things she was bored.
She spent most of her time in her bedchamber and solar. Sometimes she walked through the Godswood alone, since she was also avoiding Ghost. The direwolf was an extension of Jon.
Avoiding Jon proved to be an easy task. The council meetings stole most of his time. Sansa knew that he hated those meetings but as King he could not avoid his advisers and responsibilities forever.
According to Jon those meetings were boring and tedious, and most men of the council used words so complicated and sophisticated that only made his head hurt. He preferred spending his time in the Great Hall, listening the demands and complaints of the smallfolk. That was what made him feel like a true king; having the power to change things. Helping people made him feel useful.
He loved that feeling. Some monarchs probably considered that job an endless torment but he liked to be near the people, to hear their stories and to have the power to change their lives for the better.
On the other hand, looking over the inventories of the city, reading missives and being surrounded by piles of paper was not so pleasant.
Jon's responsibilities as king made it easy for Sansa to avoid him. She knew that she couldn't avoid him forever – she didn't want to avoid him forever – but she hoped that the distance between them would help her see things clearly and make her look at Jon as her brother, despite the fact that she never looked at him that way.
She was so focused on her own thoughts that she almost jumped when she felt the touch of a hand pulling her out of the corridor and behind a stone pillar.
The small scream that escaped from her lips ceased to exist as soon as soon as she saw the smirk on his mouth. He was obviously enjoying the fact that he had scared her.
"You scared me" – Sansa said, putting her right hand over her chest, releasing her arm from Jon's embrace.
"Are you avoiding me?" – Jon asked.
Sansa's breath caught at his words. She tried to focus on anything but him but it was practically impossible since she was pinned between the hard stone pillar and Jon's body.
"What? No… Why would you think that?" – she managed to say. Before Jon could insist, Sansa spoke again – "Why are you wearing your cloak?" – she asked, trying to change the subject.
Jon sighed.
"I need a day to be Jon" – he said low, taking off the hood that was covering his raven curls – "Not King Jon, only Jon" – he explained, making Sansa roll her eyes.
"First you hide behind trees and now you hide behind pillars. I'm not sure that's an improvement" – she teased him, unable to hide the smile from her face.
It felt so natural to talk to him that she almost forgot why she had tried so hard to avoid being in the same room as he.
"Desperate times require desperate measures, I'm afraid" – Jon said after making sure that there was no one in the corridor – "I have something for you" – he added, turning his attention back to Sansa – "I've wanted to give you this sooner but –"
"I've been busy" – Sansa quickly said, already knowing what Jon was about to say. Busy avoiding you – she added to herself.
"Of course" – Jon said, clearing his throat. He pulled a small pouch out of his pocket and reached for her hand – "I ordered it from a jeweler" – he added as Sansa pulled the drawstrings to untie the pouch.
Her eyes popped wide open as soon as she saw the small hairpin that looked exactly like a small snowflake; it was perfect.
"Jon…" – Sansa gasped; her fingers touching gently the delicate snowflake, fearing that it would melt at any moment. It was the most beautiful jewelry she'd ever seen – "You shouldn't have … It's not even my nameday"
"It's made of Dragonglass and covered by silver" – Jon explained – "I thought it would suit you" – he said as the memory of a small snowflake in her hair invaded his mind.
"Thank you" – Sansa said, looking up at him. Her voice was barely a whisper.
Jon reached for her hand and grabbed the snowflake. Before Sansa could react, Jon touched her hair and put the hairpin in the middle of the braid (in the same spot the real snowflake had been a month ago).
"I knew it would suit you" – Jon said as Sansa turned her head so she could see the little snowflake sparkling in her braid.
When she looked back at him she bit her lower lip, trying to control her body and not jump into Jon's strong arms. No one has ever offered her something so expensive – so beautiful – as Jon just did.
She took a step back and looked around the corridors, making sure that no council members were around.
She tilted her body towards him, decreasing the small distance between them. For a second Jon thought that she was going to kiss him. When Sansa put his hood over his head, covering his dark hair, he released the air he didn't know it was trapped in his lungs.
Of course she wasn't going to kiss you – he thought, trying to compose himself.
Sansa grabbed Jon's calloused hand and pushed him out of the stone pillar.
"What are you doing?" – Jon said low as Sansa dragged him through the corridors.
"I'm stealing you" – Sansa whispered, forcing Jon to follow her but the King's feet were glued to the ground. She looked over at him and Jon arched an eyebrow – "Don't you want to escape?" – she asked narrowing her eyes so Jon could see that she wasn't jesting.
Jon couldn't take his eyes off of her. She looked so free and wild. She never acted like this. Arya used to act like this … but when Jon looked at Sansa he couldn't see Arya. He could only see Sansa and how beautiful she was.
"You do know it's a crime to steal a King, don't you?" – Jon said, not even trying to disguise the smile on his face.
Before Sansa could reply, Jon put a hand over her mouth and pulled her behind a stone pillar. They remained in silence, hidden in the shadows, as one of Jon's advisors made his way towards the Great Hall.
Sansa could feel the warmth of Jon's hand on her lips and tried not to think about how warm his lips must be. She could also feel Jon's breath touching her skin. His mouth was right next to her ear. Jon's beard was so much softer than Sansa had imagined, and she allowed herself to close her eyes and inhale his scent.
"You're a terrible thief" – Jon hoarsely said when Lord Slate disappeared from view, making Sansa open her eyes and return to reality.
"Well, you're a terrible thing to steal" – she retorted, smoothing out her skirts and making her way out of the stone pillar.
Jon followed her.
"That doesn't make any sense" – he laughed, making Sansa laugh as well, as they walked through the corridor.
"Of course it does, Your Grace" – Sansa said, emphasizing the last word.
Jon was about to protest when a voice echoed through the hall, startling both Sansa and Jon.
"Your Grace!" – Lord Slate exclaimed, walking towards them.
Jon clenched his teeth in frustration. He'd never wanted to punch someone as much as he did at that moment.
He had tried so hard to escape and now the old man found them.
Why couldn't they leave him alone? Was that so much to ask? He was tired of compliments and empty words.
Jon wasn't sure if it was Sansa's small hand touching his or the gentle sound of her voice, but he slowly felt the anger leaving his body.
"We can still escape" – she gently said, tilting her head towards him.
Smiling from ear to ear, Jon didn't think twice. He grabbed her hand and pulled her close to him.
He looked over his shoulder. Lord Slate was shouting and waving a missive, trying to catch his attention but Jon ignored him.
Before the old man could reach them, Sansa and Jon started to run through the hall. Not even Lord Slate's words were enough to erase the echo of Sansa and Jon's laughs – two children running away to play.
When they reached Godswood Jon and Sansa were still laughing. After a few minutes the laughs ended and they walked in silence – a comfortable silence.
The sun was shining and the snow had melted, allowing the green of the grass to glow on a ground that was usually white. The steam of the hot springs made the air warm and they could almost pretend that it was already spring.
For the first time in weeks Jon felt free.
He could see from the corner of his eye Sansa touching the snowflake in her braid, making him smile.
He'd missed her. Each time he took off his tunic and looked at the little scar next to his ribs he remembered the touch of her fingers on his skin, the look of concern on her face, the gentle way she put the bandage around his torso.
He'd missed her voice and their conversations. The way he could be just Jon when they were together. The way he could share his troubles with her. The way he could allow himself to be vulnerable – human – around her; he didn't need to pretend, to wear a mask. He could tell her anything … well, almost anything.
"I'm terrible" – Jon's voice broke the silence. Sansa looked at him, confused – "I'm terrible at being King" – he explained, avoiding eye-contact.
"You're perfect" – Sansa immediately said, making Jon look at her – "At being King" – she explained, feeling her cheeks flush – "You're different. A good kind of different. You don't mind hearing petitions from the smallfolk and you're an excellent teacher. I've seen you in the training yard and you are always so patient when you're teaching the boys how to fight" – she continued to say, smiling at the same time – "Most kings don't do that. Most kings just sit on a throne while the rest of the people work. Most kings don't even know their lands, but you do. So no, you're not a terrible king, Jon"
Sansa's words made him feel better. They always did. She was so good with words, unlike him.
"I hate the council meetings" – he said, remembering the boring conversations and his responsibilities as king.
"Everybody hates the council meetings. I'm sure your Aunt hates it as well" – Sansa declared.
"But she knows how to disguise it" – Jon insisted – "She's good at dealing with the High Lords and the political matters" – like you – he added to himself.
"And that's why you two rule together" – Sansa said. She stopped walking so Jon could really listen to her – "She wouldn't know how to rule the North without your help" – she declared, meaning every word.
"I wouldn't know how to rule the North without your help" – Jon said, remembering all the times Sansa helped him write missives, make decisions, talk with High Lords and more … She should be the King, not him.
Sansa turned her body, fearing that Jon would hear her heart pounding like a drum.
"Good, because I want to ask you something" – she managed to say, trying to disguise the nervous from her voice. Jon remained in silence, waiting for Sansa to continue – "Teach me how to fight" – she finally said, turning her body so she could face him.
She'd wanted to ask him that for a very long time, but never seemed to find the right time, or the right words, to tell him that.
"Sansa…" – Jon tried to say but Sansa was faster.
"I want to learn how to defend myself" – she explained, already knowing that Jon would be against her.
Needlework and songs no longer sufficed her. Sansa wanted – needed – to be something more than a mere lady. She wanted people to look at her differently. She wanted people to look at her and see a grown woman who knew how to defend herself. She wanted people to know that she was not a pawn.
"I don't like the idea of you using a weapon, Sansa" – Jon said, trying to make her change her mind.
"Why not? Because I'm only supposed to wear pretty jewels?" – she snapped – "You offered Arya a sword!" – she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.
"That's different…" – Jon tried to explain.
"Why?" – Sansa insisted.
Why? – her words echoed in his mind – Because I cannot bear the thought of someone threatening you or terrorizing you. Because the thought of you being forced to wield a sword to defend yourself makes me sick. Because I don't want you to have a reason to use a weapon. Because I don't want you to get hurt.
How could he explain to her that the mere thought of losing her was unbearable?
"Because you're not supposed to need to use a weapon. I'm King now. I can protect you" – Jon simply said – "A sword is not a toy. You could get hurt" – he added, trying to erase the image of her soft hands covered by blood.
"So teach me how to fight without using a sword or any sort of blade" – Sansa said, raising her chin defiantly and looking him in the eye.
She's not going to give up – Jon said to himself.
Images of Joffrey and Ramsay beating her invaded his mind, making him understand her request.
A lady was not supposed to carry weapons, but Sansa didn't need a blade to defend herself. He could help her without fearing to harm her.
"Alright" – Jon finally said, letting his cloak fall on the ground.
He raised his hands and Sansa clenched her fists. Jon told her to hit the palm of his left hand with her right hand. Then he asked her to hit the palm of his right hand using her left hand. She did as he asked.
At first Jon could barely feel her fists hitting his hands but after a few tries Sansa's punching power increased.
He could see that she was fully committed to the training. Before she could hit his right hand again, he grabbed her wrist.
Sansa was ready to protest but Jon was faster.
"If a man comes at you, hit him in the throat" – he explained, leading her fist towards his throat – "You take away his breath and he'll go right to his knees. Do you understand?" – he added, looking right into Sansa's eyes.
Sansa nodded, licking her lips. Jon grabbed her other arm and turned her around so that her back was to his front.
"You just have to put your whole body into it" – Jon continued to explain, making Sansa shiver as soon as she felt his breath touching her skin – "To maximize your power, you need to have both feet firmly planted on the ground" – he said, running his hands over Sansa's shoulders and down her sides before reaching her hips – "This will not only increase your punching power but it'll also help you to maintain your balance should you swing and miss"
She could hear her own heart beating against her ribcage as Jon's warm hands touched her body. Not even the thick fabric of her gown prevented her from feeling the warmth of his hands on her skin.
She looked at him but his eyes were focused on his own hands.
"I always told myself that if I had a daughter or a wife, I'd teach them how to defend themselves" – Jon confessed.
As soon as he heard his own voice saying those words he stepped back slightly. He shouldn't have said that. Sansa was not his wife. She was his sister – his cousin.
Jon shook his head and cleared his throat before moving his body so he was once more in front of her.
He raised his hands and Sansa punched his left hand.
"You need to make a habit of bending your knees when you're punching" – he said after a few seconds – "Bend your knees and repeat those punches again"
Sansa bit her lower lip and did as he asked. She was right, he was an excellent teacher.
As Jon continued to explain to her how to increase her punching power she realized that she was actually enjoying herself. She didn't think she would like to throw punches at someone but she did. She knew that a lady shouldn't enjoy this kind of things but she did. It made her feel stronger, powerful. She liked that feeling.
"Three quick jabs to the stomach, one to the throat" – she repeated Jon's words.
"And he'll go right to his knees" – Jon completed.
"I should have learned this sooner" – Sansa said. Her hands clenched to fists at her sides, her jaw set firm as stone as Joffrey and Ramsay's faces invaded her mind – "Will you teach me more tomorrow, Jon?" – she asked.
"Of course" – he said, making his cousin smile.
Sansa spun around in a quick circle, ignoring the hot spring that was only two steps away from her.
She stumbled over the tree root and fell into the water.
Jon immediately ran towards the hot spring. He was about to jump into the spring when Sansa popped out of the water. She was completely drenched.
Jon gulped. Her gown was clutched to her body, leaving little to imagination. Seven Hells.
The chilled breeze made Sansa sink into the water. She looked up and grinned at Jon.
"I think this means the lesson is over" – she said.
She extended her hand to Jon so he could help her climb out of the hot spring.
As soon as Jon reached Sansa's hand she pushed him towards her, making him fall into the pool. When he came up Sansa tried to stifle a laugh. His dark hair was plastered down across his forehead and he looked more confused than ever.
"What …" – he tried to say as his eyes adjusted to the surroundings and finally focused on her figure.
"I've always wanted to do this" – Sansa said, swimming towards him.
"To throw me into the water?" – Jon asked, running his fingers through his dark curls and arching an eyebrow.
Sansa smiled.
"No" – she said – "To swim in these springs" – she explained – "I never did this. It was not very ladylike" – she added. After a few seconds of silence she spoke again – "I thought I was doing the right thing but in the end she was the one who was right"
Arya. Sansa didn't have to say her name. Jon knew that she was talking about their little sister.
Arya and the rest of the boys used to swim in these springs. He could still hear the sound of her laugh and the way she used to say "Throw me, Jon!" making it impossible for him to say no.
"Do you think she's alive?" – Sansa softly asked.
"Yes" – Jon immediately said – "And I know that we'll find her. No matter how long it takes, we will find her"
"Maybe she'll be the one to find us…" – Sansa said.
Like you found me… – Jon said to himself.
"And I'll tell her about my fighting skills" – Sansa continued to say, splashing water at Jon.
She bit her lower lip, trying not to laugh at Jon's shocked face.
Jon ran his hand through his damp hair and then looked at the woman in front of him.
"You do know it's a crime to splash a King, don't you?" – he said, tilting his body towards her, decreasing the small distance between them.
"Jon…" – Sansa tried to say but it was already too late.
Jon grabbed her waist and leapt backwards, pulling her with him as they disappeared beneath the dark waters of the hot spring.
When they came up, they were both drenched from head to toe. The steam wafted around their bodies.
Sansa splashed water at Jon and swam till the edge of the pool – a useless attempt to escape from him.
Jon swam towards her, ignoring the water that she kept throwing at him.
Sansa tried to climb out of the hot spring but Jon was faster. He grabbed her waist and she was unable to stop the laugh that escaped from her lips. Jon turned her around so he could see her face.
Unconsciously, Sansa wrapped her legs around his waist as her fingers played with the curls at the nape of his neck.
The warmth of Sansa's body so close was overwhelming and a burning shameful desire started to invade Jon's body.
Only when their eyes met Sansa noticed their current position. She was above Jon and his eyes were darker than ever.
She could feel his hands on the curve of her waist. Drops of water were rolling down his face and Sansa caught herself looking at his lips.
Instinctively, she tilted her head, decreasing the distance between them. Jon lifted his right hand so he could reach her face, but before his fingers could caress Sansa's cheek the sound of a wolf howling woke them both.
Jon blinked his eyes; his hands pushing at Sansa's hips until her legs were no longer wrapped around his torso.
"We should go before Lord Slate decides to send a patrol" – he managed to say, stumbling back a few steps.
"Of course" – Sansa laughed mirthlessly, feeling her cheeks burn.
Jon climbed out of the hot spring and helped Sansa get out of the water. He held her hand and avoided eye contact. He saw his cloak on the ground and put it over Sansa's shoulders, before she could catch a chill.
Even if they were outside the castle walls Sansa felt like she was in a cage. They were walking in utter silence and this time it was not a comfortable silence. It was an awkward silence, and Sansa hated awkward silences. It made her want to scream and it certainly didn't help that Jon was purposely avoiding looking at her.
Like you avoided being in the same room as him these last weeks – a little voice inside her head spoke.
Suddenly a thought invaded her mind so abruptly that she nearly staggered.
What if what she was feeling wasn't quite as one-sided as she thought?
What if that was why he refused to look at her?
What if that was why his eyes became darker when they were in the hot spring?
There was nothing fraternal about the way Jon held her in the pool, was it?
Maybe it was the scent of Jon all over her or the memory of his hands on her body that was making her feel bold enough to make a move.… or maybe she was just tired of pretending – pretending to be the sister she never was.
She needed to do something before they reached the castle.
Sansa took a deep breath and spoke:
"I lied to you" – she said and Jon looked at her, confused – "When you asked me if I was avoiding you and I said no … that was a lie" – she explained, meeting his gaze.
She knows – Jon thought – She knows how I feel about her and she doesn't feel the same way. Gods. She probably thinks I'm worse than the Lannisters.
"Was it something that I did?" – Jon managed to ask, feeling anxious – "I've never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable"
"You didn't. You never make me feel uncomfortable, Jon" – Sansa quickly said – "I like to spend time with you" – she confessed – "When you were in King's Landing I felt so … incomplete"
Jon's eyes widened as soon as he heard Sansa's words. He had felt the same way – incomplete.
"Then why did you –" – Jon tried to say.
"Because I feel too guilty" – Sansa interrupted him, trying to disguise her trembling voice.
She could feel her own heart beating against her ribcage when she met his gray eyes.
"Guilty for what?" – Jon asked the inevitable question, looking right into Sansa's eyes, unable to disguise the hope in his voice.
Just say the words, Sansa. Just say the words so we can go back to that spring.
Say that you don't see me like a brother. Say that and there's hope for the two of us.
"For wanting what I want" – Sansa said so low that Lord Slate's voice erased her words.
"Your Grace!" – the old man exclaimed, making it impossible for Jon to hear Sansa's words – "I've been looking for you everywhere" – he added, bowing his head.
Of course you have – Jon said to himself, clenching his jaw.
"Lady Sansa" – the old man said, looking at Sansa.
Jon narrowed his eyes when he noticed the way Lord Slate was looking at her. Not even his cloak was enough to cover Sansa's wet clothes.
A possessive feeling invaded Jon's body when he saw the way Lord Slate's eyes linger over her body. Jon moved his body so he could block his view of Sansa.
"I'd like to have a moment with my cousin" – Jon said harshly, trying to get rid of the man. He was tired of his interruptions.
"Forgive me, Your Grace, but it is important" – he insisted.
So is this! – Jon yelled in his mind.
He was about to protest when he looked around the courtyard and saw some men he'd never seen before, bowing their heads.
The sound of a horse neighing caught his attention and he finally noticed the big carriage that stood only a few steps away from him. Before he could ask Lord Slate if they were expecting any guests the door of the carriage opened and a brown haired woman touched the soil of Winterfell.
I know, I know, cliffhanger!
I hope you liked this chapter, I really enjoyed writing it! So, any ideas about what is going to happen next?
Please review! Love you guys! (:
PS: I made a Jon/Sansa video, if you want to see it just check my youtube channel (mentioned on my profile) or follow this link: a href=" watch?v=gYXL6VWLKaY"Jon&Sansa – For the first time/a