A/N: Hey guys, so sorry it took me so long to update. My IRL job is absolutely crazy right now, so writing hasn't been too high on my priority list. Thank you so much for all the support and kind words, I hope you enjoy the update! Much love! xxx

Sansa left the meeting feeling shaky, her jaw clenched tight. She walked quickly, so Jon had to hurry to catch up, and he grabbed her arm.

"Sansa-" he began, but she shook her head.

"I don't want to talk about it right now." she said softly. "Please. Give me a few days here, with them."

Her lips shook.

"You can stay here, Sansa, with him."

"No." she said flatly. "And I don't want him here either."

She turned on her heel, marching down the hallway. Jon didn't follow her this time. She disappeared through a pair of doors, and was gone.

Jon walked to one of the columns, leaning against it. He stared at the courtyard garden, and then looked up at the clear sky. He wondered, if he, as a child, would have liked it here. He thought of Winterfell, and then of the finery here. Even Winterfell, one of the finest houses in the north, looked like a paltry cabin compared to this place.

He thought again of being a bastard once more, and his stomach flipped over. He knew, of course, he had always knew himself he was. But it was the label, the status. It was how people looked at him, like less of a man.

No. He shook his head, deep in though. Dany had been right. They had rallied behind him, the man he was, not because he bore the Stark name. But it still, in some strange way, made him terribly sad.

He turned round, deciding, and then made his way to the great hall, to find him men.

Sansa returned to the bedchamber they shared to change into something less courtly. She found a golden silk dress, light and airy, and then called for someone to take her to her children. Kyria and Aden both ran to her, delighted and excited, as she entered the chamber they played in.

"My darlings." she said, falling to her knees and gathering them in her arms. She pulled away, looking at Aden, pushing his red curls out of his eyes. And then to Kyria, who dimpled up at her.

"We've been playing, mama. Me and Byrant." he pointed at a boy who stood in the corner, shy hiding behind the skirts of his nanny. Sansa noticed a wooden sword in his hand, and saw Aden's beside him on the floor, forgotten for a moment. "I want to be as good as Papa."

"And you will." she said, kissing him on the forehead. "Perhaps even better. Don't tell him I said that though."

He giggled. Kyria snuggled closer to her, resting her head in the crook of Sansa's neck.

"I thought it would be nice to go down to the water, today, and play. In the sunshine. It's so warm."

"Can Byrant come?" Aden pleaded, and Sansa grinned.

"Only if his nanny permits it." She stood, taking her children's hands.

Sansa sat on a wide blanket with Kyria, watching as Aden and his new friend splashed in the waves. The sunlight was dappled and orange, spilling across the coastline with boasting warm generosity. She read to Kyria in a quiet voice, out of a heavy book Kyria insisted on bringing. A tale of dragons, from long ago.

"Soon we can see Aunt Dany's dragons." she whispered to Kyria, and her daughter looked up at her eagerly. Aden screamed shrilly and then broke into hysterical laughter, and fell into the sand just beyond. Sansa grinned, wishing Jon was here enjoying it with her. She had sent for him, but he never had shown up, so she figured he'd been taken with business or something. She pushed the thought away, trying to enjoy the moment of bliss just then.

They spent the afternoon on the curve of sand below the castle, even Sansa had joined her children in the water, carrying Kyria on her hip, soaking the bottom of her skirts in the salty warm tide. She forgot, for a while, about her worries. About home, about Jon, about losing her son, someday, to a scary and far away place.

They returned to the castle long after the sun had dipped into the sea, and the night had begun to sparkle against the velvet sky. Sansa ate with her children in their chamber, laughing and keeping their spirits high. She settled them into bed, like she did at home, kissing them goodnight, stroking their hair and faces. Treasuring their little sleepy smiles. Her heart aching for home even stronger as she left them.

She strode into the bedchamber, and was surprised Jon still hadn't returned. She thought nothing of it, and instead poured herself a cup of wine, and walked out onto the balcony. She'd stripped out of her damp clothes, and stood in the moonlight, staring over the glowing city in her underclothes and night shift. There was singing in the city, and other sounds of chaos, being carried over the wind that smelled of food, ale, and the distant lemon trees beyond. She sighed, taking a long swig out of her goblet.

There was a bang behind her, and Jon stumbled into the room. He hadn't noticed her yet, and instead attempted to shrug off his vest.

"Jon." she said sharply, realizing he was drunk.

"Sansa." he said, in a surprised tone, looking over to her. "How beautiful you angel, are. So beautiful you are in the light. Moonlight." he hiccuped.

She crossed into the room as he fell into a chair. He stared, empty eyed, at the fire in the hearth.

She crouched beside him, resting a hand on his cheek. She brushed the hair out of his face, running her thumb along his jaw.

"Is this what you did all day?" she asked. He sighed, and she got a whiff of whiskey.

But when his eyes met hers, she saw how distressed he looked.

"What is it?" she asked, suddenly worried.

"Oh nothing." he said, letting his head fall back. "I left Winterfell a Stark, and will return, a bastard once more."

She felt her heart sink, and the deeply sorrowful and raw tone of his voice brought tears to her eyes.

"You're not a bastard." she whispered, squeezing his hand in hers. "You're not, Jon."

"I'll never be anything but." he said, looking at her again. "A beautiful northern princess married to nothing but a lost bastard."

"Stop it, Jon." she said, and stood. She helped him up, and led him to the bed, where he fell across it diagonally. She crossed to the other side, crawling in, and gently lifted his head and rested in on her lap.

"You can't think like this, Jon." she said. "Not right now, not in this state."

"Do you love me?" he asked, his voice slurring a little. She grinned.

"Of course I do." she said. "Now think of happier things, please. Like today, we missed you at the beach."

He groaned.

"Tell me if you're going to be sick, alright."

"I'm fine." he assured her. He pressed his face into her thigh, relishing how soft she was. How soft and warm she was, the cold queen of the north. How soft and warm she was, just for him. "Tell me about your day."

And so Jon fell asleep as Sansa quietly told him about the day she'd had, about Aden playing at swords and wanting to be like him, about Kyria throwing fistfuls of sand and screaming with joy in the warm shallows. As she spoke, his sadness melted away, and the pressure on his shoulders lightened. He listened as she painted a picture for him, of happiness and a moment of peace.

Before she knew it he was snoring. It was only when he was sleeping could Sansa see the shadow of the boy, the very slight softness he had in his face only when he was completely relaxed. Her chin quivered as she looked at him, and thought about the coming days, the coming years. How she wished there were moments she could just stay in forever, how she wished so badly, on some level, she could have a normal, commoner life.

A tear splashed onto his face, and she brushed it away, feeling silly, overdramatic.

She settled into bed beside him, curling against the familiar feel of him, relishing the constant sound of his snoring. She fell asleep almost instantly.