1 month later
Sansa felt much lighter these days. Almost relieved after her miscarriage, after not having to bring another family member into the world to suffer, or be in danger. She was upset for a few days, but slowly realized it was an unburdening. Now she could focus on her house, and the future thereof.
An idea had crept into her head. She hadn't spoke life to the idea yet, but it sat in the back of her mind. She'd finally grown the courage to mention it to Jon, and this is where she headed now. The courtyard was covered in a thick blanket of snow, and she wound around the tunnels carved into it by the groundskeeper.
Jon was in the study, usually discussing things with brother houses or the guardsmen. But she knew for a fact that today he was alone, and she was seizing the opportunity. Of course, she could well have mention the idea to him when they ended up in each other's room's at night, wrapped around one another.
She wanted this conversation to have an air of officialism. While it was a decision of the heart, it also had to be made for the house and future of the Starks. Without her heart, and her love, she wondered if this would even be a decision at all. She pushed away the idea as nonsense.
She knocked on the door lightly, and a page opened the door from within.
"Sansa!" Jon said brightly, with a small smile. Oh good, she thought, he was in a decent mood.
"Jon, my dear," she said with a motherly tone, for the sake of the page. "I was hoping to audience with you alone."
"Leave us, please." Jon motioned for the page to exit, and the next moment, they were alone.
Sansa sat across from the desk, waiting for him to shut the door behind him as well, in case anyone might wander in from the other direction.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I had an idea." she said, simply. He took his seat and waited. Sansa felt like a child again, reminded of the times she was brought here for a lecture from her father. They were occasional, and never harsh at all, but being in the seat took her back to that place, and those same nerves. Maybe she should have brought this up in another lighting, she thought.
"An idea to benefit the future of our house." she said. "To guarantee the Stark name has an heir."
"Have someone in mind for me, Sansa?" his tone light, but his brow slightly worried. Perhaps the love he'd given her, the care and attention and concern...perhaps it was more one sided than he thought.
"Yes." she said. "Me." she looked down.
"Oh?" he said, and felt a rush of relief. "I'll admit, I thought of it too, but I worry it'll be frowned upon, by our subjects."
"Most people of the north are more traditional than you and I." she said. "I think they'd understand, or even prefer it. We wouldn't have to deal with house competition, or other arguments. Say you are betrothed to so-and-so of House Glover...but there's a quarrel between them and House Umber and Umber also has a daughter, is this an insult to House Umber, might we lose their support? And then there is the case with me,"
She paused, but he didn't interrupt her or say anything.
"As a twice previously married woman with a broken maidenhood...I doubt many noble houses would be willing to marry their son to me. I am a used commodity."
"Sansa-" Jon started to scold her, but she held her hand up.
"But it's a smart match, you and I, because I know you know that doesn't matter. Not to you, at least, and I doubt to your idea of honor. And then, a child that is Stark...or perceived to be Stark, and just Stark, wouldn't be doubted by anyone. Couldn't..." she trailed off.
"And if Bran returns? Would we dissolve our marriage, out of respect for his...truer...blood line?"
"Bran...if he's still alive, which of course I hope he is, but if he's alive, he's been crippled Jon." she said. "The likelihood of him having children."
Jon nodded, realizing the reality of her statement. As usual, Sansa never ceased to surprise him. He felt guilty, then, for underestimating her. She was right on all accounts.
"And then there's the fact between you and me..." she said. "You, me, and Arya, the people it matters, we know we're not siblings. And we can be comforted by the fact that it's just us."
"It is a comfort." he sighed. "You're right. It's a good idea. I'll confer with the maester, and see if there's any stringent moral objections around us. But these are the people who swear to the old gods. And you're right. They respect the old ways."
She nodded, smiling.
"I can be with someone I can trust, to be loyal, someone I can trust to touch me." she reached for his hand, leaning over the desk. He entwined her fingers with hers. "Someone who doesn't mind me being a little broken."
"You were never broken, Sansa." he said softly. "No announcements. We'll only tell the members of households, and those who ask. Until you have a child, we don't announce it, so no one may challenge the validity of the marriage, or it's worthiness."
"A small ceremony, with not everyone staring at us. Without the whole world staring at us." Sansa said, a bit of excitement in her voice.
"My whole world will be staring at me, hopefully." he said, and she smiled, blushing.
"You're ridiculous." she said, but squeezed his hand tighter, a silent motion of thanks.
"When, then?" he asked.
"Whenever you like." she said softly. "I'm quite at my leisure."
"Soon." he said. "Tonight, if I can manage it."
"I'll wait for your call." she said, and stood, leaning down to kiss him lightly on the cheek. "I'll wait...eagerly." she said, lingering in front of his face, her mouth inches from his.
"I'll go now, in that case." he said, breathlessly, and leaned in to kiss her lips. But she ducked away, and stood.
"Later." she said, smiling coyly.
The ceremony was small and quick, in the godswood, with only a few people around them. The maester acted as the officiator. The night was cold, and snow fell lightly.
"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Maester Elryn asked the crowd of 5 people.
"Sansa, of the House Stark, comes here to be wed." Arya said softly. "A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods."
"Who comes to claim her?" Elryn asked.
"Jon, of the House Stark, heir to Winterfell. Who gives her?" Jon said.
Arya stepped forward, and continued the vows. After a few prayers, and Jon cloaking Sansa, the deed was done.
"And let it be remembered, that the gods, in the past, have granted marriages to closer blood relations, in times as drastic as these. And this marriage be as blessed as any other." The maester added.
Sansa took Jon's arm as they walked back towards the castle.
"How do you feel?" she asked.
"Like I truly am home, now." he said to her, quietly, so nobody else might hear. "And that the future is ours, and ours alone."
Sansa awoke to a different ceiling. They had taken the large bedroom, the pair of them. Jon slept soundly beside her, bare chested, his shirt discarded on the floor with all of her wedding clothes.
It finally happened the night before. She felt for the first time, despite the technicalities, that she'd truly been with someone. She felt as light as air as she woke up, her whole body actually warm for the first time in a long while. Jon had been luxuriously generous, and she squirmed as she recalled his mouth between her legs, his quick urgent whispers reassuring her the whole time. The feel of him inside her, the way his face looked nearly pained in pleasure as he felt her for the first time. How she felt that she could bring him pleasure, and how strong that made her feel. How he comforted her, told her he loved her, held her, all things she'd only yet experienced with him, and him alone. The truest connection she could hope for.
She laid there for a while, listening to the familiar sound of Jon sleeping beside her. His deep breathing, the occasional sigh.
His breathing changed, and she looked over, to see him sitting up, looking at her.
"Good morning." he said, and she smiled. "How are you feeling, Lady Stark?"
"Quite well." she said. "And how is my husband faring?"
"Terrible, I'm afraid." he said, leaning so he was more on top of her, his face close to hers. "Quite dreadful."
"Oh no." she feigned surprise. "Whatever could be the matter?"
He grinned wider. He bent, turning her head, kissing in the hollow beneath her ear, and then gently nibbling on her lobe. She hummed in encouragement, and he kissed under her jaw, at her throat, lower then, to her chest and the space between her breasts. He slowly ran a finger around her navel, and then dipped lower, listening to her mewling like a kitten in response. He stroked her for a minute, and then stopped, and was above her again.
"I'm devastated I have to leave you alone here, leave this warm bed and warmer woman."
"Surely just a little longer." she begged of him.
"We have every night until the day we die." he said.
"Nobody is to say how long that might be." she whispered.
"You make a compelling argument." he said, lowering his face even closer to hers.
"I'm sure it will exhaust you eventually." she said. "My arguing." she raised a brow.
He responded with a slow kiss, and she felt his hands heading to her thighs again.
"Not if I exhaust you first."