Jon's cloak around her shoulders, Sansa rushed to the closet, pulling it open. Both her children tumbled out, crying hysterically. She gathered them, hushing them, pulling them out of the room and into the cool air of the outside. There, in the breezeway, she fell on the ground, tugging them both onto her lap. She quieted them, smoothing their hair, assuring they were fine and everything was fine now.
She called for gauze for Aden's small cut on his throat, which had bled down his chest. Some blood had transferred to Kyria's cheek and hand, and Sansa knew he'd been holding his sister to comfort her from her fears. She felt a pang of appreciation for her son, and a deep love for both her children.
"You were so brave, darling." she whispered to Aden, stroking his face. "The bravest you've ever been. I'm so proud of you, my little wolf."
He sniffed, burying his face in her bosom. Kyria had caught sight of Jon, down a ways, and rushed to him before Sansa could stop her.
All the anger in the world melted away when Jon felt her daughter reaching up for him, saw her tearstricken face. He scooped her up, and she felt the familiar safety of her father's arms. She let out a shuttering sigh, burying her face in his hair and neck. He held her silently, wishing he could think of the same reassuring words Sansa was so good at conjuring up. But instead he fell silent, and let his arms around her tight speak for themselves.
Eventually, he crossed the breezeway, and sat on the ground beside Sansa. Aden crawled into his lap, and looked up at him with wide eyes.
"Did you kill him good, papa?" he asked.
"Only because he was hurting your mother." Jon explained. "We protect our own, Aden."
Sansa looked at Jon, her brows furrowed.
"I'm so sorry, Jon." she whispered. He shook his head.
"We will speak of it another time, Sansa." he said. He unlatched Kyria from his chest, and handed her to her mother. He stood. "I have some business to attend to."
He summoned Bran and the visiting dignitaries from the other houses. He explained the situation, informed them of Petyr's death. Then, he proposed ruling beside Bran, instead of over him, as a united front. Equal power, and equal input. Where Bran was wise, perhaps, Jon understood battle, and was the favorite of their loyalest bannermen. Even Bran looked relieved when he suggested this, and it didn't take long for the other houses to agree. In fact, they nearly tripped over themselves singing apologies to Jon and house Stark, saying Petyr threatened them and their children, that they felt they had no other choice but to unite with him. It was clear now, that Littlefinger had been driven mad. That his excellent manipulation skills had soured, and the desperation and obsession with Sansa had turned him into a despicable and craven man.
Jon was never going to relinquish the seat, but instead let Petyr think that. That way, he could council with houses Reed and Whitehill on his own, and get to the bottom of Baelish's plan. But Baelish had acted quicker than Jon had anticipated, and for that, he would feel the regret of letting Sansa in harm's way for the rest of his life. And he hadn't shared his plan with Sansa because everyone needed to believe it, because Petyr was smart, once, and he knew when someone was pulling the wool over his eyes. Jon knew that.
Sansa put the children to bed, who were both exhausted. She laid in Aden's bed, Kyria curled around her brother like a vice, and assured them their worries could be put to rest. That now, their enemies had been vanquished, for the time being. Kyria fell asleep first, but Aden stayed up a while longer with his mother.
"Are you okay, mummy?" he asked, his brow crinkled in concern.
"Of course, darling." she whispered, a small smile on her lips. "Your mother has been through much worse than this, Aden, and I suspect, we will go through all these trials again someday. But it will be a long time, now, and tonight, you shall rest." She leaned forward, kissing him on the forehead. She needed to appear strong for her children, that's all she could do right now. Soon enough, Aden fell asleep as well.
She left the bedchamber, and stepped out into the hallway. She took a deep breath, pushing her hair from her face. She was exhausted, and still felt emotionally raw. She knew she was mere moments from a breakdown, and hurried in the direction of their bedchamber door.
She sniffled as she rushed through the doorway, and sat down at the vanity. She pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to stop the flood of tears. It wasn't just Petyr, it was everything. There hadn't been a spare moment to collapse, not since the miscarriage, and the grief was pushing in. She looked in the mirror, at the red welt on her cheek. Her chin trembled, and she forced herself to take a breath, get a grip.
And then Jon walked in.
She turned round, and looked at him blankly.
"I'm the head of house again, m'lady." he said, a small, victorious smile on his face.
"Well." she said, and could hear how strangled her voice sounded. Then, like a crashing wave, she burst into tears.
Jon paused in surprise, and then hurried forward. He helped her up, her shoulders shaking from the sobs, and led her into bed. He pulled her against his chest, letting her cry against him, pushing her hair from her face. The image of Petyr pressed against her naked figure filled him again with rage, as did her tears. He was surprised to find tears fill his own eyes. He wanted to kill him again, and again, in a hundred different ways.
"I've...I've let...you down..." Sansa choked out. "I killed our...last chance...of having more children."
"What?" he asked, and pulled her back, looking at her face in astonishment.
"I've failed you, Jon." she said, her face contorted in anguish.
"Never." he whispered. "Impossible. You couldn't ever fail me Sansa. You didn't fail me, or your children, or this house."
"He wanted to kill Aden, Jon! And then our name would have died out..." she sobbed again. "I would have lost our son...that's why I let him..."
"Shh." he hushed her. "Sansa, you don't need to explain your actions, not to me."
She nodded, and buried her face in his neck. He pressed his lips against the top of her head, relishing her familiar scent. He understood everything, that Sansa acted always for her family first. There was nothing in the world that might convince him otherwise. She was so strong, he thought, and always got the worst of the situation. And yet she continued to flourish, a flower that would bloom even in the harshest of winters. As he felt her body shaking against his, he thought he could never love a person as much as he loved her.
They'd been through so much together, shared so much. A childhood, too many wars to count, the loss of so many loved ones. Yet...she'd grown stronger, made him two beautiful children, shared her life with him. He felt the tears coming again, and this time, he allowed them.
He sat her up, using his thumb to guide her face to his.
"Sansa." he said softly, and she hiccuped, waiting for him to speak. But he didn't. Instead he looked at her in this funny, calculating, and appreciative way. She was surprised to see such emotion in his eyes.
With his gentle, persuasive way, Jon had become everything in her life. The most important piece of her world. That he would die for her, without a second thought, and her for him. That he had fought for her, and her alone. That so much of what he'd done, in the past years, had only been for her. That his calm presence, his comforting and subtle strength, it had probably been the lone reason she'd saved her sanity.
She'd stopped crying, she realized, and hadn't broken gaze with Jon.
"You're alright?" he asked, and she nodded, sitting up a little.
"I'm glad you're here now." she whispered.
She leaned forward, and kissed him. She needed him, she realized, right then, in a deep and instinctive sense. She felt a flame within her alight, and found herself hurriedly untying his shirt. He grabbed her hands, and pulled away.
"Sansa, you don't have to-" he began, but she found his mouth with hers again. She kissed at him with such passion, such desperation, such hot fury, he could hardly be convinced to pull away again.
She was atop him, straddling him now, impatiently loosening her bodice and letting her breasts spill forward. He kissed at her naked neck, his tongue hot and searching for every piece of skin that would win him a noise of approval. He pushed her off him, and climbed atop her, groping at her warm pale flesh, and then dipping his fingers inside her. She felt deliciously warm and inviting, and she said his name, again and again, as he coaxed an orgasm from her.
Finally, he was inside her, and felt his own inadvertent grunt escape from his lips. She pressed her forehead against his, her mouth hovering inches from his, their hot breath bringing pinkness to eachother's cheeks. With every thrust, she let out a low, deep moan, getting louder until she had to bite onto his bicep to keep from waking the children in the next room.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, deepening the sensation, and felt her body begin to climax again. Then, he began to join her. Her back arched, and he dipped his hand underneath it, pulling her closer to him as they came together.
He fell beside her, and they both laid there, breathing heavily. They both realized how much better they felt, a physical reminder of the love and comfort in one another. How close they were, and could be.
"I love you." Jon gasped out, and Sansa smiled, nodding.
"I love you too." she replied.
After they'd caught their breath, Sansa curled under the furs, wrapping around him like a mollusk against an ocean rock. Her soft hair enveloped the both of them, spilling over Jon's chest and shoulders like an extra blanket. She fell asleep, listening to the sturdy pounding of his heart, and he fell asleep, his arms around her protectively, so nobody else could hurt her. Not tonight, he thought, and not ever again.