I'm so sorry for the waiting! I couldn't finish this chapter and I'm still not one hundred percent happy with it but I decided to post it anyway.
I hope you like!
If equal affection cannot be, let the more loving one be me — W. H. Auden
I couldn't miss the chance to dance with the fairest woman in all the North.
The man's words hung heavy around Jon, knocking the air from his lungs. He watched the man grabbing Sansa's hand and spinning her around. His hands clenched into fists and his eyes widened in rage.
He noticed one of the man's hand settling lower than appropriate on her back, and a possessive feeling invaded his body. His feet started moving and a moment later he was right behind Sansa.
The man's smile disappeared from his face as soon as his eyes met Jon's.
"Your Grace" – he said, immediately taking a step back and releasing Sansa from his grasp.
Jon felt Sansa's eyes on him but refused to look back.
"I don't think we've met before" – Jon said. His voice deep and commanding. It was a king's voice.
He rested his hand on Sansa's slender waist. She could feel his palm burning a hole through the thick material of her gown. The hand he settled at her waist felt oddly possessive.
Their bodies were so close that she could feel the heat emanating from his skin.
"Sebastian Lake, Your Grace" – the man quickly said, bowing his head – "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard many great things about you"
He tried to remain with a neutral face after hearing the man's name. Sebastian Lake.
He remembered that name. He remembered reading that name on one of his Aunt's letters. He remembered ripping the missive after reading that he was seeking for Sansa's hand in marriage. He remembered writing to his Aunt, declining the offer.
He had never seen the man before but he always imagined him as an old fat man with a long beard and poor manners. Sebastian Lake was anything but that. He looked like a knight from Old Nan's stories. The kind of knight Sansa always talked about when she was a little girl.
He didn't know anything about this Lord Lake but he seemed like the kind of man who would bring Sansa flowers and say nice things to her. He seemed like the kind of man who was good with words. The kind of man who would praise her beautiful gowns and hairstyles.
He didn't know anything about this Lord Lake but he already hated the man.
Suddenly he felt his stomach twist and questions stormed his mind.
How did they know each other? When did they meet? How did they meet? How well did they know each other? Were they close? Were they friends? Were they lovers?
Jon cleared his throat.
"I didn't know you two knew each other" – he asked blankly.
"We've met while you were in King's Landing" – Sansa said, making him look at her.
She tried to ignore the protective and innocently possessive way his arm molded around her waist and the way his hand cradled her hip. She liked the way he touched her. It was almost hypnotic.
"Sebastian is here for the spring feast" – she added.
Jon frowned. Sebastian? They already address each other by first names?
He tried to compose himself.
"Have you finished your gown?" – he asked nonsensically.
Sansa narrowed her eyes, looking at him suspiciously.
"Not yet" – she said – "Why do you ask?"
The expression on Sansa's face was very solemn.
"No reason" – Jon quickly said – "Lady Mormont told me about your cyvasse game. How many times did you win?"
Sansa had learned the game from Jon. He had taught her how to play during the long nights after they defeated Bolton.
The last time they played was the day before Jon left for King's Landing. Sansa used to win most of the times, but Jon didn't seem to mind. He enjoyed letting her win.
"I … I don't know … I don't remember" – Sansa said, pressing her hands to her temples and closing her eyes – "I don't even remember getting into bed" – she added.
When she opened her eyes again she immediately felt her heart beating against her chest. Jon's eyes were locked on hers. He looked as if there were something he wanted to say to her.
"I'd like to speak with you in private, Your Grace" – Lord Lake interrupted their moment. Sansa looked away from Jon; the connection broke with a snap – "There are some matters I'd want to discuss with you" – he added.
It took Jon a long moment to look away from Sansa.
He forced a smile. He already knew what kind of matters the man wanted to discuss with him.
"Very well" – he said, releasing Sansa from his grasp – "We can talk in my solar"
Lord Lake took Sansa's hand and kissed it. Jon did his best to swallow his jealousy back down.
I couldn't miss the chance to dance with the fairest woman in all the North – Lord Lake's voice echoed in his head.
He was wrong.
Sansa was not the fairest woman in all the North. Sansa was the fairest woman in all the Seven Kingdoms.
Jon frowned as Sansa laughed at something Lord Lake said.
His hands clenched under the table and creaked under the pressure when he saw the way Sebastian Lake's lips curved up into a smile. He looked pleased with himself.
Of course he looks pleased with himself – Jon thought – How could he not be pleased after hearing her beautiful laugh.
He forced himself to take a bite of the meal in front of him. It tasted like mud in his mouth but he swallowed it.
Jon tried not to look at his cousin during dinner but the truth was that he couldn't take his eyes off of her.
Sansa wrinkled her nose. Jon was too far away from her to see the small freckles across her nose but he knew they were there. Twelve freckles.
He wondered if Lord Lake knew she had exactly twelve freckles across her nose. Probably not, since he was not looking at her nose. He was looking at her lips.
Jon sipped from his mug of ale. He wanted to knock the smirk off of Sebastian Lake's face.
He watched the man touching her hand and this time he gave in and set his fork down.
He knew that if he left early his absence would be seen as an insult to their guests but he didn't care. He was jealous. He needed to get out of the room before he could do something foolish; before he could throw his fork against Lord Lake's head.
He rose from his chair, quickly hurrying from the Great Hall, making his way towards his chambers.
Once the door was closed, Jon rested his head against the wood and shut his eyes, remembering his conversation with Lord Lake.
"I sent a letter to Queen Daenerys seeking for Lady Sansa's hand in marriage"
"And the answer was not what you expected" – Jon said as he tried to conceal his smile by drinking from the cup of wine.
His Aunt had sent him a raven with Lord Lake's proposal. Jon had replied to Dany, declining the offer with a vague excuse, expecting Daenerys to do the same. If the Queen or King didn't authorize Sebastian Lake's proposal, then there could be no wedding.
Jon was glad Dany declined his offer. He didn't want to have to talk with Sansa about marriage prospects; he didn't know if he could have that kind of conversation with her without breaking apart.
The Queen had declined Lord Lake's offers and Jon would not question her decision.
"She didn't give me an answer, Your Grace" – Sebastian Lake interrupted his thoughts – "She said I should present my proposal to you, since you're Lady Sansa's oldest living relative"
Jon's eyes widened and he almost spat out the wine in his mouth.
Seven Hells, Dany! – he said to himself – What the bloody hell were you thinking?
His gut twisted. He needed to do something. He couldn't lose her, not now that he was about to end all the rumors about Margaery and him. He needed to find a solution.
He cleared his throat and forced his face to remain neutral.
"Sansa never expressed any interest in re-marrying" – Jon finally spoke.
"But if she did… if she changed her mind…" – Lord Lake immediately said – "Would I have your support?" – he asked – "Your cousin is a beautiful woman. I'm sure many suitors will attend the spring feast" – he remained in silence for a moment – "I could make her happy"
Jon started to feel dizzy as his words echoed in his mind, showing him pictures of the future, a future where Sansa and Sebastian Lake were happy, married, with children.
He shook his head. He wanted Sansa to be happy. He truly wanted that, but he also wanted to share that happiness with her. He didn't want to lose her.
He didn't want her to leave Winterfell, but if she married Lord Lake she would have to leave. She would no longer be the Lady of Winterfell, she would be Lady Lake. She would leave this castle and travel north-east. She would live in a castle near Long Lake – the largest lake in the North.
He couldn't let that happen but at the same time he couldn't take that choice away from her. Sansa never told him that she wanted to re-marry. She loved Winterfell. She didn't need to marry Lord Lake to be happy. She was already happy, right?
"You might propose it, but I don't speak on Sansa's behalf" – Jon forced the words to get out of his mouth – "The decision is hers, not mine"
He walked over to the bed and sat down.
He should have declined Sebastian Lake's offer. Sansa looked absolutely pleased with his company. It was only a matter of time for her to leave Winterfell. She would say yes and she would leave.
The spring feast was turning out to be a complete disaster. Lord Lake would not let the opportunity escape him. He would use the feast to propose marriage, like in the songs Sansa always loved.
Jon fell back against the pillows on the bed and sighed loudly. He closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the softness of his bed but there were a million thoughts rushing through his mind.
He took a deep breath.
She's not going to say yes. She doesn't want to leave Winterfell. She's happy here. Winterfell is her home. She's not going to say yes – he said to himself, trying to calm down.
His breathing had almost returned to normal when the memory of a familiar voice stole his breath again.
You know nothing, Jon Snow.
Sansa was in her solar, breaking her fast with Margaery. The Maid of Highgarden had insisted on spending some quiet time with her, so they could talk about their time at court, their gowns for the spring feast, Jon…
Sansa wished they could skip the last subject, but Margaery had other plans.
"Do you think he's going to announce our betrothal at the feast?" – the Lady of Highgarden asked, after drinking some of her milk.
"I don't know" – Sansa said, dropping the bread she had in the palm of her hand. The sight of the food was starting to make her fell ill.
"He still didn't talk about it, though" – Margaery continued to say, looking at the boiled eggs – "He's so different from most people" – she added – "Most men I know enjoy public victories and compliments but Jon …" – Sansa clenched her jaw when Margaery mentioned Jon's name – "I don't think he particularly likes that. Every time I try to flirt with him he blushes and looks away. It's actually kind of cute" – Margaery stated, smiling – "I don't think he's the kind of man who makes grand gestures, though"
Sansa tried to disguise her discomfort.
"That would be Jon" – she mumbled.
"I guess I'll just have to work harder to gain his affections" – Margaery said graciously – "Do you think you could put in a good word for me with him?" – she asked.
A maidservant entering in the solar saved Sansa from having to answer Margaery's question.
The girl bowed her head and turned her attention to Sansa
"Lord Lake wishes to speak with you, My Lady" – she said – "He's in the courtyard"
After delivering the message, the girl walked out of the room.
Sansa took a sip of milk, before getting up from her chair.
"He fancies you" – Margaery said with a mischievous smile.
"No, he doesn't" – Sansa laughed.
"Trust me, he does" – Margaery insisted. Sansa shook her head – "You honestly didn't notice how he kept staring at you during dinner?"
"He was just being nice" – Sansa said, running her fingers through her loose hair.
Margaery rose from her chair and approached her. She linked her arm through hers, forcing Sansa to leave the solar. When they reached the door of the chamber, Margaery opened it. She pushed Sansa out of the room and smiled.
"I'm sure he is eager to see you" – she said, winking at her and closing the door.
Sansa frowned. Did she just push her out of her own chambers? She huffed.
She smoothed out her skirts and fixed her hair.
When Sansa reached the courtyard she immediately saw Sebastian. He smiled at her and she smiled in return.
She noticed the two horses near him. He was holding something behind his back.
She approached him and he moved what he was holding to the front of him. Sansa saw the willow picnic basket and arched an eyebrow.
"I thought you might like to join me on a leisurely walk through the woods?" – Sebastian said with a hopeful glance towards her.
Sansa was too stunned to answer him so she just nodded her head in astonishment.
Sebastian's eyes flashed and his smile became even bigger. He handed the reins to Sansa and helped her into her saddle.
His hands lingered on her body and for a moment Sansa pretended that the hands around her waist were Jon's.
When she looked down and saw Sebastian's face she forced a smile, disguising the flicker of disappointment that was starting to show on her face.
He took her hand and kissed it gently. Sansa couldn't help but miss the roughness of Jon's beard against her skin. She shivered, trying to erase that thought from her mind. Sebastian's smile widened.
Before she snapped her reins, forcing her horse to move, she saw Ghost looking at her with a disapproving look.
Jon hadn't got a good night's sleep since Lord Lake arrived. His brain kept showing him images of Sansa and Sebastian together.
Meals had become a torture, the council meetings a torment, Margaery's constant references to Sansa and Sebastian a nuisance. At this point it was a miracle he hadn't exploded from anger.
Rolling out from bed he made his way towards the balcony.
The sun's rays were starting to light up the sky. His elbows were propped against the stone railing and his eyes were closed against the wind.
He forced himself to remain calm. He needed to stop thinking of her as his. Why couldn't he stop thinking about her?
Images of Sansa's face kept flashing through his mind.
He opened his eyes and took a deep breath. Before his breath could return to normal he saw a figure walking towards the stables. He narrowed his eyes, recognizing the blue cloak that was covering the person's body.
Jon couldn't see her red hair but he knew it was her. Her auburn hair could be hidden by the thick hood but the way she moved her body was undeniable. The person entering the stables was definitely Sansa.
The stables? Why would she go there? – he wondered – The sun had just started to rise. She was supposed to be asleep, not wandering around in the gloom of the early morning.
His heart stopped and his mind went to dark places.
Was she meeting someone? Lord Lake? Were they lovers?
Sansa had smiled and laughed with Sebastian from the moment he'd arrived. Sebastian found any excuse to touch her. His eyes were always focused on her lips.
He shook his head
No, no, no – his conscience spoke – Sansa wouldn't do that. Sansa is a lady. She wouldn't let him take liberties with her.
He bit the inside of his cheek and forced his feet to move. He needed to get ready for the day ahead.
Despite Jon's efforts the picture of Sansa entering the stables kept following him. After that day, his insomnia increased and he found himself at the balcony, watching Sansa entering the stables, day after day, always wearing the same cloak.
It was torture.
A fortnight later and the green-eyed monster of jealousy was starting to get the best of him. He needed to stop this. The doubts were starting to creep in.
He was about to enter in the Great Hall when the sound of someone laughing invaded his ears. He stopped in front of the half-open door and peered inside. Sansa and Sebastian Lake were talking enthusiastically. His body far too close to hers.
Jon's jaw clenched and his fingers tightened until his knuckles paled. He needed to do something before the spring feast.
Sansa was barely inside her chambers when a familiar voice invaded her ears.
"Quite a day, hmm?"
She closed the door behind her and looked at him. Jon was standing near the window. He straightened his shoulders and turned his body, looking right into her eyes.
"You and Lord Lake seemed very friendly in the Great Hall" – he spoke and for a moment Sansa had to blink her eyes to make sure that the man in front of her was Jon.
He didn't sound like Jon. Had he been drinking?
"I enjoy his company" – she managed to say, after a few seconds of silence – "He's a very interesting man" – she added, noticing the way he clenched his jaw.
"I don't like him" – Jon spat.
"You don't even know him" – she scoffed.
"And you do?" – Jon immediately asked.
His lips were a flat line of anger as he scowled back at her.
"Yes. As a matter of fact, I do" – Sansa said, clinging his gaze.
Jon took a step forward.
"How well do you know him?" – he asked, narrowing his eyes.
"What do you mean?" – she asked fairly confused.
Jon let out a heavy breath.
"What were you doing in the bloody stables this morning?" – he asked, raising his voice more than he intended to – "Is there where you two meet?" – the words stumbled out of his mouth, practically on their own.
Sansa gasped, then she felt as if his temper had seeped into her. How dare he?
"It's none of your business!" – she burst out, refusing to answer his question – "You're not my father nor my brother!"
"No, I'm your king!" – he shouted, immediately regretting the poor choice of words when he saw the way her eyes widened and her mouth gaped open. He pinched the bridge of his nose before speaking – "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like –"
Before Jon could finish his sentence Sansa walked towards him.
Rage burned inside her. She wanted to hit him so much.
She launched herself at him, extending her right arm so she could hit him hard on the chest, but before her fist could touch him, she tripped over her own feet.
Jon caught her in his arms, preventing her from landing hard on the floor.
Sansa looked up and remembered his words when they were practicing in the Godswood.
You need to have both feet firmly planted on the ground. This will not only increase your punching power but it'll also help you to maintain your balance should you swing and miss.
She pursed her lips, feeling angrier than ever. She had embarrassed herself in front of him and she didn't even manage to relieve herself of her anger.
"I was practicing, Your Grace!" – she exclaimed, emphasizing the last two words like they were poison.
Sansa pushed hard against his chest, increasing the distance between them.
Practicing? – Jon said to himself, trying to understand her words as a memory invaded his mind.
Teach me how to fight – he remembered Sansa's words from the day they had swum in the hot spring.
He felt relieved. He felt like a big weight had been removed from his shoulders. Sansa and Sebastian were not lovers.
He looked at her, not knowing what to say. She was angry. He was the dragon but she was the one that was about to spit fire.
"I thought …" – Jon tried to say.
"You thought what? What did you think?" – Sansa snarled out, walking towards him again.
Jon ran his hand through his dark hair, tousling it. He couldn't tell her what he thought. He needed to make her understand his worries without really telling her about his worries.
"He's using you" – exasperation clear on his voice.
"Using me?" – Sansa laughed mirthlessly.
"Yes! He's using you because you're the Lady of Winterfell and you're a Stark and you're my cousin and he's trying to –"
"So now I'm your cousin? A fortnight ago I was your sister!" – Sansa interrupted him – "That's what you told Margaery, wasn't it?" – she added, already knowing the answer.
"How do you know about that?" – Jon asked, confused.
"It doesn't matter how I know! What matters is what you said!" – she exclaimed – "And you said that you still see me as a sister!"
"I don't!" – Jon growled.
"Then why did you say it?" – Sansa yelled back at him.
She was in his face, almost nose to nose as his head lowered and he glared down at her.
"What was I supposed to say, Sansa?" – Jon said softly, a painful sadness in his voice – "How could I tell her that I don't look at you like a brother should look at his sister?" – he added, voice deep.
Sansa's throat hurt suddenly, and she locked eyes with Jon.
His last words started to echo in her head, making her feel dizzy.
What was he trying to say? That he didn't even consider her family? That there was still distance between them, like when they were children? Did he hold grudge against her?
Jon gave a frustrated groan.
"He's trying to take you away from here…" – me, he added to himself – "… from Winterfell"
Sansa took a step back. Jon was not being possessive, he was being protective. She closed her eyes for a moment.
Why did he always have to be like this? Why couldn't he stop being like this? Even when they were children and she was nothing but cruel to him he always acted like a protective big brother. Of course he didn't hold grudge against her. He was too honorable, too kind, too Jon.
He was protecting her because it was his duty, not because he cared; not because he loved her.
"I'm not a child anymore. I can make my own decisions, Jon" – she said, running a hand through her hair – "Just because he invited me to visit Long Lake, it doesn't mean he has an ulterior motive. I can handle him"
"Sansa…" – Jon tried to say but Sansa cut him off.
"Bash is my friend. He's not trying to …"
Sansa continued to talk but Jon barely listened her. Bash. They not only addressed each other by first names but also by nicknames. He really hated the man. He hated him and he wanted him gone. He wanted him far away from Sansa.
He needed to make her understand what he was trying to tell her. He needed to make her stay, otherwise he would lose her forever.
"Sansa!" – Jon suddenly interrupted her, grabbing her hands so he could catch her attention –"I need to ask you something and …" – he trailed off for a second, his eyes downcast – "… and what I'm about to ask you is probably the most selfish thing I have ever said in my life but …"
She swallowed against her dry throat as she noticed the way he was holding her hands. She had missed his touch.
"Jon…"
"I need you to promise me something" – he glanced up, capturing her gaze.
"Promise you what?" – she managed to say. It was a soft mutter, and she wondered if he had heard it.
"Promise me you won't leave Winterfell" – Jon replied, sadness in his voice. He was looking at her with concerned eyes.
Sansa shivered. The anguish and sadness in his voice struck at her heart.
"Winterfell is my home. Why would I want to leave?" – she asked after a moment of silence.
"Just promise me, Sansa" – Jon insisted and Sansa felt her knees trembling.
His arms came around her and he hugged her tight, burying his head against her neck as he closed his eyes. It was like he was clinging onto her for life.
Sansa restrained herself from wrapping her arms around his torso. She didn't know if she would be able to let him go if she did.
"I promise" – she said, her voice muffled against his chest.
Jon moved his head and kissed her forehead. Sansa could feel his smile against her skin. After a moment he released her and made his way towards the door.
He looked at her and smiled again.
Jon followed the Old Gods but he would gladly follow the Faith of the Seven if it meant that he could join hands with Sansa and say the words: I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days.
He just had to wait till the end of the spring feast and then Winterfell would be theirs again.
No more Margaery. No more Bash. Just Sansa and Jon.
He could still hear Sansa's voice echoing in his mind as he walked through the corridors of the castle.
I promise.
Little did he know that some promises were meant to be broken.
So, who's ready for the spring feast?
PS: I started a new jonsa fanfic. It's a modern AU "Vanishing Point" and I'm really excited about it! It would mean the world to me if you could check it out.