Chapter 2 - Venice - Arrival & Day 1

They were due to land at their layover stop in Zurich soon. Jon looked over at a still sleeping Sansa. He debated on if he should wake her before they started their descent. She had gotten a bit nervous during their takeoff and even more so when they hit a couple pockets of turbulence, instantly grabbing his hand on their shared armrest each time.

Jon was still utterly perplexed with the situation he was currently in. On a plane with Sansa Stark, the one Stark he wasn't very close to. Going to Italy on a partially paid-for vacation where he can get a feel of it for his next book. Going on a vacation with people from high school who scoffed at him and that he was perfectly fine with never having to see again after having graduated. And, most significantly, in a fake relationship with Sansa.

It was all something he had to debate about in his head after Sansa first asked for the "favor." When she called and asked to meet him for coffee, he didn't sleep much that night, trying to figure out what she could possibly want from him. Well, what she wanted was something he could never even have imagined. Do people fake relationships in real life? Is that a thing? he wondered. When they went their separate ways after coffee, Jon had to weigh the positives and negatives. Positive: a vacation (where he didn't have to pay for lodging or tours) to a foreign country he had always been interested in visiting. Negative: having to be on said trip with people he disliked. He had to add a third column to his mental list - the awkward column. Awkward: Pretending to be Sansa's boyfriend.

Jon never minded Sansa. They had a perfectly normal childhood around each other; sometimes she'd play with Robb and himself, most of the time she'd do girly things with her friends, and sometimes they'd tease each other. The teenage years brought distance. Sansa wanted to be around the influential prep school kids. The ones that openly looked down on him. She never made fun of him herself. However, he didn't think she did much to stop her friends from doing so. But he knew Sansa was ambitious and desperate to fit in, so he gave her space, allowing her not to associate too much with him at school. But, in the Stark house, they were still kind enough to one another. Things got better after she graduated and began to not hang out with that crowd so much. They still weren't close - not how he was with Robb or Arya. Even Bran and Rickon he was closer to, almost like another big brother to them. Ned and Cat still treated him as one of their own after all these years. With Sansa, it was just merely a casual friendship, if that. More like an acquaintance. It was extremely rare to even see her name pop up on his phone. And now, they would need to believably pull off being in a relationship. Hand holding, small bits of affection, and even a kiss here and there. Jon tried to ignore it, but there was a nervous twist within him when he thought of sharing kisses with Sansa. Almost like butterflies. Silly, he thought. Two weeks of them being together constantly. What do we even talk about for two weeks?

One person who was 100% on board with this whole scenario - his mother. As he was contemplating his decision, he went to his mom for guidance, telling her every aspect of the plan. He figured she'd take a few minutes to mull it over, at least. But nope, it didn't even take her a split second to exclaim a "yes!", insisting he go. Her general happiness and excitement took him back a little. Jon had originally chalked it up to her just being happy for her son to travel to a new country. But looking back now, his mom's enthusiasm seemed to hold more meaning than that. She had a knowing smile and something joyful in her eyes.

Sansa stirred awake next to him. "Just in time," he whispered as the plane started to make its descent. Sansa stiffened a little. He opened his hand and she took it, seeming to relax a smidge.

The plane landed, Sansa gripping his hand, surprisingly strong, as the wheels met the tarmac. They grabbed their carry-ons and found the way to their next gate. Thankfully, it wasn't too long of a layover, soon they were being boarded onto a bus that drove them to a smaller plane. Sansa eyed the aircraft warily as they walked toward the stairs to enter it. Jon reached out in front of him and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. She unsuccessfully tried to hide her nerves when she smiled back at him.

The flight to Venice was short, just barely over an hour. Jon smiled at how much Sansa looked out the little window, absolutely loving the view of snowy peaks of the Alps mixed with fertile green valleys and streams, pointing out the lakes that dotted the land, both big and small. The beauty calmed her nerves.

"Okay, we're supposed to meet the boat service representative at Arrivals," Sansa noted, looking over the itinerary document on her phone as Jon retrieved their last suitcase from the baggage claim carousel. As they stepped out of the exit, they found a finely dressed man with a luggage trolley and a sign reading "Stark." He introduced himself and loaded their bags onto the trolley, pushing it as he led them out to the moving walkway and down to the airport's dock. He brought them right up to an awaiting sleek motorboat. As the captain loaded the boat with their bags, Jon boarded and offered Sansa his hand to help her in. See? You can play the part of boyfriend well enough.

They settled into the brown leather seats, the interior of the cabin all polished rich wood. Two champagne flutes and a bottle of Dom Perignon sat next to them. The captain poured and handed them each a glass. Jon was feeling a little underdressed now, in his black shirt and jeans. Sansa never needed to put in much effort on that front, she somehow looked very put together in her casual traveling clothing. She could fit in anywhere wearing a paper bag, he thought as their captain steered them out of the dock and along the waterway. The breeze flowed through the open-air cabin, Sansa's long red hair flying into his face.

"Sorry," she winced apologetically and quickly corralled her strands into a smooth ponytail. "Are you ready for this?" she asked with a smile and quirked brow.

"Nope," Jon answered with a smirk. Sansa giggled, her nose scrunching up, and she held out her glass for him to cheers.

The sun was setting. Warm, pretty colors lit up the sky, the darkness starting to bleed into it. Their boat headed toward the Floating City on a waterway marked with weathered wood posts sticking out of the water as they sipped their champagne. They passed right next to a tiny island, privately owned as their captain told them. As he navigated by the islands that made up Murano, he told them of their famous glass making. Finally, Venice loomed larger before them. They entered via a smaller waterway before emptying into the Grand Canal.

"Oh, it's so beautiful," Sansa sighed. They both gazed around at the old buildings that lined the canal - aged, waterworn, and wonderful. It was darker now with the sun hidden behind buildings, lights lit up the gothic architecture. Coming around a bend, they approached the famous Rialto Bridge, Ponte de Rialto, crowded with tourists. They drifted underneath it and continued on, the captain pointing out interesting spots and giving restaurant suggestions. "Oh gods. I want to live in that garden," she said wistfully as they went by an opening between two buildings. Intricately carved stone balustrades created a barrier between the greenery and the water, blooming soft pink rose bushes climbed along it. A couple of romantic statues stood just beyond, amongst the flora. Jon could actually imagine Sansa there in the garden in some ancient, long ago time, dreamy classical music filling the air. Their captain said it was the Giardino Palazzo Malipiero, the palace itself being first built in the 11th century and Casanova once being a resident there. "Ooh la la." Sansa giggled, wiggling her eyebrows and making Jon laugh.

Forty five minutes after leaving the airport, they arrived at their hotel - The Gritti Palace. The boat was steered to the left and up to a small pier in front of the hotel's terrace restaurant. A man in a sharp suit with long tails awaited them there. He assisted Sansa out of the boat after she profusely thanked the captain for all his information and advice.

"You're a lucky one," the captain discreetly said to Jon with a nod in Sansa's direction.

"I know," Jon smiled. Might as well start playing the part now, he told himself. "Thank you."

He followed Sansa up onto the dock as the hotel attendant gathered their luggage. Another suited attendant ushered them through a door. The lobby and lounge were ornately decorated. Sansa went to the desk to check in while Jon scoped out the artwork and antiques that adorned the space. Framed photographs lined some walls, pictures of the famous people that had stayed there in the past. Ernest Hemingway, Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton, Brad and Angelina (in happier times), amongst many others.

"So, there's a little problem," Sansa announced when she found him. "There's only one bed in each room. No two bed options." She wore a worried look on her face.

"Alright. I think we'll survive," he smiled reassuringly. She looked more relaxed at that. Was she worried about what I would say? That I would say no? Sure, it's going to be a bit uncomfortable or awkward, but as long as she's okay with it.

"They're going to bring our bags up to the room. I'm exhausted but I'm starving. You?"

"Both as well."

"Find someplace to eat before we go to sleep?"

"Definitely." They found the exit that put them onto the narrow street, leading away from the canal.

"I did a cursory search while we were still at LAX. There's this restaurant here that doesn't have the best reviews and is labeled as too touristy," Sansa said, gesturing to the nearest restaurant as they passed by. Jon smiled at her preparedness, just as he had admired the lengthy and detailed list of things to see throughout their trip that she had shown a week ago. "So we might just need to walk a little bit more."

"No problem. We can get our first taste of Venice."

"Let's head this way," Sansa suggested and steered them to the left. They crossed over a bridge, a gondola coasting beneath them. "Call me basic, but I cannot wait to ride in one of those."

"We get to do that?" Jon asked.

"Yup. On our last night here, I believe during sunset. Corny?"

"Nope. Quintessential Venice."

"That's just a nice way of saying 'cliché'," she laughed.

"No, really, I would like to go on one. I'll let you in on a little secret," he said, walking closer to her side and quieting his voice conspiratorially. "I can be a stereotypical, hopeless romantic from time to time."

"You? Jon Snow? Manly-man Jon Snow?" Sansa teased.

"You wound me," he said, dramatically clutching at his heart.

"It might not be as much of a secret as you think. It seems a tiny bit obvious based on your novel."

"Ah, so you've read it," he smiled, suddenly nervous for some weird reason.

"Of course I have. Do you really think my family would have let me get away with not reading it?"

She only read it out of obligation, he thought, not knowing why he was feeling disappointed.

"It was rather good," she offered genuinely. "It was mysterious and thrilling in all the right places. But that love story, Jon. That's what blew me away. It wasn't even the main focus of the novel, but it was so beautifully written," she enthused. "I know, must be shocking that the girl who grew up believing in fairytales gravitated to the love story in it." She gave a gentle laugh and tucked her hair behind her ear. "But really, Jon. The book was great. I don't think I ever told you that when it came out." She shot him a smile before directing them over another small bridge.

"Thank you, Sansa." A warm feeling briefly flooded within him. Touched? I mean, it's not like she's directed many compliments toward me over the years.

They came to a square, some restaurants and shops lined it. Looking over a menu at one of the eateries that looked popular enough, they decided to dine there. After being directed to a table outside, they took their seats. Deciding to just get their favorite Italian comfort food for their first meal in Italy, Sansa ordered their carbonara and Jon got their lasagna.

"I can't wait to finally have fresh Italian-made noodles. I'm salivating," she noted.

"I know. It's something my mom is very jealous of," he laughed.

"How is Lyanna? I haven't seen her in a little while. I miss her."

"She's doing well. She was probably more excited than you for this trip."

"Oh gods, was she questioning why you would even be going with me? Does she know of our situation I've gotten us into?"

"Yes, she knows," Jon laughed.

"Oh no, she probably thinks I'm so pathetic."

"She doesn't at all. She said she'd probably do the same thing if she was in your shoes."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"No, really, she said that. And she was extremely happy that I got to come along with you. I need to remember to send her pictures as we go along on the trip."

"You should start with our first meal here," Sansa suggested as their plates were set before them. It smelled incredible. "Here, smile for the picture!" she said and took one of him and their plates.

"Oh come on, if I'm going to be in the shot, I don't want to be alone in it, I feel so awkward."

"Alright, selfie it is. You don't mind looking super touristy?"

"Meh, who cares," he answered. They pulled their heads toward one another over the table, their plates below them, and Sansa took a selfie.

"And sent," she said, putting her phone down and deeply inhaling her food. "Mmm, I can already tell this is going to be amazing."

They dug in and both instantly groaned an approval. Jon smiled at the euphoric look on her face as she exclaimed that it just might be the best thing she'd ever eaten. Barely able to slow their eating due to hunger and the deliciousness, they finished relatively fast.

"Best lasagna," Jon declared, setting down his fork and leaning back in his chair.

"I knew it would be obviously better than back home. But wow, just wow. We should probably head back, get some sleep," she said, checking her phone. "Aww, your mom is just the sweetest."

"What did she say?"

"'Looks positively scrumptious. And you look as beautiful as ever. Take care of Jon for me. And thank you for dragging your new boyfriend along with you.' She ended it with a winky face. She's so cute."

As they headed back in the direction of the hotel, Jon eyed a gelateria just ahead of them. "Are you completely full or could you go for a bit of dessert?"

"I would never turn that down," Sansa answered. They waited in the small line and picked out limoncello for Sansa and tiramisu for Jon. "So damn good," she whispered as she shoveled another tiny spoonful into her mouth. "You know what we should do? We should try to get gelato each and every day we're here in Italy."

"That sounds like the best plan," Jon agreed as they walked along.

Eventually, they found their way back to The Gritti Palace. The jet lag and lack of sleep on the flights was starting to wear on him as they entered the elevator. He still needed to jot down some notes from the day in the notebook he used for his writing ideas. As he was in the middle of debating on whether he should do that or shower first, the elevator doors opened to their floor and a voice caught him off guard. Sansa quickly taking a hold of his hand, even more so. He automatically straightened up as they exited onto their floor.

"Sansa! I'm so glad you made it here!"

Margaery Tyrell stood in front of them, apparently waiting for the elevator to come up, dressed in expensive looking workout attire, hair perfectly styled and full face of makeup.

"Hello, Margaery," Sansa said politely.

"And Jon Snow! So this is your mystery boyfriend, darling?" Margaery asked with great interest.

"How are you, Margaery?" Jon asked.

"Oh I'm doing very well. My gods, our suite is exquisite. It's the Peggy Guggenheim Suite. You'll have to peek in sometime! Are you heading to bed now?"

"Yeah, we're pretty tired," Sansa answered, trying to inch their way out of the conversation.

"I'm sure you are. Joff and I arrived yesterday, so we've had an extra day to get used to the change in time zone. I'm off to the gym, don't want to slack on our fitness now, do we? I'll see you two in the morning," she said cheerily and entered the elevator that she was holding open.

"I'm so sorry. I panicked," Sansa apologized while dropping his hand when Margaery was out of sight.

"It's okay," Jon smiled.

They found their door further along the hallway and walked into a room just as luxurious as the lobby downstairs. It was richly decorated and furnished, artistically beautiful with golden framed artwork hung on the walls.

"Supposedly, this place was built all the way back in the 1400s. It was a residence for a doge of Venice," Sansa informed as they both gazed around the room.

I don't belong here, Jon thought.

Sansa moved on to the bathroom. "Is it weird that I need to get a picture of this bathroom before we leave? It's fucking gorgeous."

He followed her voice into the bathroom, absolutely covered in emerald marble. "I don't belong here," Jon said, out loud this time.

"Oh hush, yes you do. Now, I need to shower the travel-weariness off of me. Did you want to hop in before me?"

"No, go ahead, I need to make some notes for my book. First impression of Venice and all that," Jon answered.

Sansa showered. Jon sat at the ornate desk, taking his worn leather journal out of his bag, and began to jot down thoughts and notations from their long day. When she was done, she came out adorned in a fluffy white hotel robe, spinning around in it and then flopping on the bed, exclaiming how comfortable both of those were. Jon took his turn in the sophisticated bathroom, the thought of sharing the bed with Sansa hitting him harder as he stood under the falling water. This is about to be so awkward, he thought. Once done and coming back into the room, he found Sansa pulling out articles of clothing and pairing them together, trying to figure out what to wear the next day.

"So, uh, which side of the bed do you prefer?" Jon asked, unsure of what to do with himself suddenly.

"I tend to sleep on the left side, but if that's your side too, I have no problem sleeping on the right," Sansa replied, seeming to be a little nervous as her eyes determinedly stayed focused on the outfits she was debating between.

"No need, I'm normally on the right," Jon said. He padded across the floor to the bed, with its royally-shaped tufted headboard, and sliding in between the sheets. "Gods, this really is very comfortable," he commented. What was uncomfortable, however, were the shirt and sweatpants he was wearing. Truthfully speaking, Jon usually slept naked, wearing clothes in bed seemed rather entangling to him. But, obviously, he couldn't sleep naked with Sansa, or even just wear his boxer briefs. So pajamas it would be for the next couple of weeks. Jon turned off his bedside lamp and stayed close to the edge of the bed to give Sansa plenty of space. She nodded at one of the ensembles she put together and hung it up. Coming over to the bed, she slowly started to untie her robe. He averted his eyes, picking up his phone and concentrating on it. There was a text from his mom. 'You and Sansa look like you're having fun already. Love you.' Sansa was sliding into the bed now, clad in a silky floral pajama set, staying to her edge as well. There were a few Instagram notifications. He had been tagged in Sansa's story. The picture they took over their dinner. They looked a fair bit tired but good, probably getting a hit of liveliness off the scent of the food.

"Oh yeah, I hope you don't mind," Sansa suddenly said sheepishly, peeking over at his screen. "I thought it was a really cute picture to start off the trip."

"No worries," he smiled. Sansa had a knack for making whoever she was in a picture with look better, with her at their side. He opened the other notifications. A message from Sam, just a simple smirking emoji. And one from Theon - 'what the hell is going on? you and sansa are in italy together?' Jon ignored them both and set his phone on the bedside table. "Good night," he feebly offered, turning onto his side, facing away from her, giving her privacy.

"Night." She clicked her light off and settled in.

…

The room was only just starting to barely get lighter. Go back to sleep, Jon thought to himself. He felt slight movement next to him. Opening his eyes just a touch, he found Sansa. It took him a moment to remember why they were sleeping in the same bed. They had started as far apart as possible in the king size bed. Over night, they had both gravitated towards the middle, their hands nearly touching between them. Jon sleepily smiled and went right back to sleep.

The next time his eyes opened, it was a little brighter. Sansa's side was now empty. He could hear the shower turning off.

"Good morning," Sansa said cheerfully as she came out of the bathroom, robe back on. "How did you sleep?"

"Unbelievably well. I'd figure there would be at least a little bit of a struggle with needing to get used to local time. But no. This bed is like sleeping on a cloud."

Sansa laughed. "I know. Maybe they won't notice if we take it with us when we leave."

After getting ready for the day, they headed down to the lobby, planning on finding a café for an Italian breakfast of coffee and a cornetto. When the elevator doors opened to the lobby, however, they found a few of their group already there.

"Sansa!" Varys exclaimed, all simpering smile as he came up to hug her. "Are you eating breakfast with us? We were just about to order some pancakes and eggs, hit up the buffet, and eat out on the restaurant terrace."

"Oh, thank you, Varys. But no, Jon and I are going to head out into the city and find a café before we all meet up in St. Mark's Square."

"Jon Snow, it is quite a pleasurable surprise to see you here. And with our dear Sansa, no less," Varys added coyly.

"Nice to see you again, Varys," Jon nodded toward him.

"I don't believe you've met my husband yet. May I introduce Illyrio," Varys said, turning a bit and gesturing to the man next to him. "This is Jon Snow. He also attended King's Landing Prep, just a year ahead of us."

Jon greeted the stranger while Sansa was talking to Talisa. Robb and Talisa's relationship didn't end well. She had gotten a bit controlling and rather cold. When Robb decided to break things off, her attitude got even worse. So a trip with Robb's sister and his best friend was going to be interesting. Jon could only hope to put distance between them and her while doing group activities.

"I'm glad you decided to come after all, Sansa," she was saying. "After hearing about Harry bringing the girl he left you for on this trip, I was worried you'd decide to stay home." The fakeness was radiating off the woman.

"Well, I decided that just because I broke up with Harry," Sansa sternly corrected, "didn't mean I couldn't come on my dream vacation."

"Yes, of course. It's also quite shocking to see you and Jon together. Who knew that would happen? I barely ever saw you two talk to each other." Her eyes narrowed slightly.

Is that doubt? Is she questioning if we're actually a couple? Jon wondered. He grabbed Sansa's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Sometimes it just takes a little time to see what's in front of you," he added, placing the same fake smile on his face that Talisa was currently wearing. "Should we grab coffee, babe?" he asked, turning to Sansa. He had to give her credit, Sansa hid any surprise she may have had.

"Definitely. See you guys in just a little bit!" Sansa called as they headed toward the exit. "Thank you for that. Things were getting weird with Talisa," she said, dropping his hand once they were safely around a corner down the street.

"Yeah, I could feel it too."

"I'm sorry, I should have asked. Did you want to eat at the hotel? They have more options, some American style stuff too."

"No, I'm perfectly fine finding a café and doing our own thing," Jon said, happy to be away from their travel companions.

"Good. I'm figuring any chance of being away from them will be less time to fake the relationship. Plus I just really want to explore Venice and its offerings, not eat all our meals in our hotel, which is where we're having a group dinner tonight."

"Well that's unfortunate. I'm sure the food is amazing there, but dinner with that lot?"

"Yup. A fancy one on the rooftop terrace."

Crossing a bridge and heading east, they passed by luxury designer stores and a beautiful baroque-style church. Finally, they entered into St. Mark's Square, Piazza San Marco. There were a few cafes there with many outdoor tables in front of them. They chose one and ordered a couple cornetti and cappuccinos. Finding an empty table, they settled in and gazed around at the piazza, still somewhat early enough that it wasn't too packed yet. It was relatively peaceful, people-watching and taking in their surroundings. Jon gazed over at the ornate Basilica and the reddish tower near it. "What is that?"

"Campanile di San Marco. It's a bell tower. It collapsed in the early 1900s, so that's actually a reconstruction. And that is obviously Basilica di San Marco and to the right of that is the Doge's Palace. We'll be going in those. To the left over there is the clock tower, which is an early Renaissance structure. And, you know what, I don't know why I'm telling you all this, I'm sure our tour guide will inform us on everything," she laughed, catching herself rambling on about everything she learned before coming here.

"You always did your homework," Jon smiled. He appreciated that Sansa did her research, he found he enjoyed learning little tidbits from her.

As they sat back and took their time, the large square became more crowded. Jon could see lines forming to enter the basilica and bell tower. Soon enough, Sansa was suggesting they walk over to the meeting place, between the San Marco and San Todaro columns facing the water. Great, now it's time to see the whole group at once, he thought as they got up from their table. Dodging other tourists left and right, the columns came into view.

"I see them," Sansa muttered. "Here we go." She grabbed his hand and he apprehensively stood taller.

"Good morning, you two," Margaery greeted them with her sly smirk as they joined the group that had gathered there.

"Morning, everyone," Sansa said cheerily, giving a wave with her free hand.

Jon could hear a few whispers amongst the babel of other sightseers, murmurs of 'is that Jon Snow?' He placed a smile on his face as he looked out at the shocked and curious faces of the kids who looked down on him in high school. He was surprisingly pleased to see Harry Hardying's face. It was sour and bitter and even outraged as he saw Jon and Sansa holding hands. It was exquisite. Jon smirked. Good. You weren't good enough for her anyway. His current girlfriend stood awkwardly at his side. A snide look came Jon's way from Viserys. Viserys Targaryen was never a fan of him when Jon dated his sister Daenerys. It looked like they wouldn't be friendly on this trip either, which was perfectly alright with Jon.

"Snow." A disdainful greeting (if you could call it that) came from Joffrey. Jon gave a nod in greeting. Keep Viserys and Talisa at a distance. Keep making Harry angry. And irritate Joffrey with just my presence, but not too much since his family is paying for this and I wouldn't want to ruin this for Sansa, Jon listed in his head. A few introductions were made to the significant others they hadn't met yet. And soon, before it got way too awkward, their tour guide, Sofia, welcomed them.

Sofia walked them toward the basilica, pointing out interesting things and speaking about Casanova and Napoleon visiting there. Sansa and Jon tried letting the rest of the group go ahead of them, but Margaery and Joffrey brought up the rear, so they continued to hold hands. They bypassed the long line that waited for entrance into the famous landmark. They filed through the door and joined the crowds in the cavernous golden domed cathedral, tons of colorful mosaics looked down from above and just as colorful marble, inlay in designs and geometric patterns, was below their feet. The altar laid before them, empty chairs set up in rows for mass. They were shown the Pala d'Oro and walked through the treasury, holding gold and silver relics, some even from the Crusades.

They climbed up the steps to the terrace, looking down at the piazza spread below them. A few of the couples were taking pictures with the view in the background. After Margaery and Joffrey took one, the brunette came up to him and Sansa. "Okay, you two, it's your turn!"

"Oh, that's okay, Margaery," Sansa said.

"Nonsense! You guys make such a cute couple. After all these years, I don't know how I never saw it before!"

Sansa smiled shyly at him, a hint of an apology on her face. She came into his side, tilting her head toward him and sliding her arm across his back. Jon wrapped his arm behind her, his hand holding her waist. A glimpse of Harry's glare and his flared nostrils made Jon smile even more as Margaery took a few shots of them. Even Joffrey looked displeased by it.

Sofia moved them along the terrace, pointing out the statues of the Four Horses, replicas of the original Triumphal Quadriga that were now housed inside the museum. They finished traversing the rest of the basilica and headed toward the Doge's Palace - the "White House" of old Venice, as quipped by Sofia - once again skipping the line outside the beautiful white and rose colored building. Even more intricately designed ceilings, along with artwork adorning the walls, and just general opulence awaited them there. The courtyard was massive and the prisons austere. Upon leaving, they headed to the bell tower, skipping the line one last time to go to the top of the Campanile di San Marco. They gazed out at the magnificent views in every direction, the wind whipping Sansa's long hair about, and they had to plug their ears when the bells started ringing right above their heads. Heading down the elevator, they exited and Sofia began to bid them goodbye.

As the group scattered a bit to take pictures of themselves in front of the basilica, Sansa profusely thanked Sofia for sharing her knowledge, facts, and tales with them. Margaery then organized them all to be in a big group picture. "Some of us girls are going to go shopping at Versace and the other designer stores, would you like to join us, Sansa? I believe our boys will be heading to the bar, Jon, if that interests you?" Margaery asked.

"Oh, thank you but no. We're going to do lunch and a bit of exploring before heading back to get ready for dinner," Sansa quickly replied.

"No worries. You two lovebirds want to be alone. I totally get it. See you tonight!" Margaery said, her sly smile reappearing before turning around and heading in the direction Sansa and Jon had come in earlier.

"I imagine you weren't interested in going to the bar with those guys," Sansa mentioned as they turned toward the clock tower, heading for the archway at the bottom.

"Gods no. But I don't want to hold you back if you want to do some Italian shopping with your friends."

Sansa gave him a look that showed she clearly didn't want to do that. "We have those designer stores back at home, if I was interested in that. I just want to see as much of Italy as I can. Shall we get lunch?"

"Yes, please."

They passed under the archway of the clock tower, the beautiful deep blue and gold details standing out from the white facade. Weaving through a crowded street lined with even more luxury stores, they stumbled upon a restaurant tucked away into a small square that sounded like one of the ones their boat captain recommended.

"Margaery's sketching me out a little," Sansa noted after they took the last available outdoor table and put in their orders with the server.

"It's her smile that gets me, it seems so shifty but covered up with kindness," Jon observed.

"She seemed to constantly be near us today. And then she kept having us pose for pictures. Commenting on how cute we are as a couple and that she's surprised she didn't see it before. It's like she's testing me and our 'relationship.' Or I'm just being paranoid and she's actually genuinely nice about it."

"I might be a little biased since those kids weren't exactly friendly to me in high school, but has she or any of them ever really been genuine?"

"Ah, so true. Gods, and I was one of them," Sansa cringed.

"You weren't as bad," Jon laughed.

After another completely delicious meal, in which Sansa moaned over her food again (making something twist within Jon's gut that he decided to completely ignore), they took to the labyrinthian streets of Venice once again. Using the map on Sansa's phone, they wandered around, finding points of interest she had saved on it, with her telling Jon interesting tidbits she had learned. There were a couple times where they got a bit turned around and had to figure out the direction they wanted to head in, but she eventually led them to the grand Rialto Bridge. It was very crowded at this particular tourist trap as they climbed the steps lined with tiny shops. Once at the apex, she pulled him through an opening between the shops, framed by an archway, to the edge of the bridge. Jon took a few pictures of the view of the wide canal and its ancient buildings that flanked the sides. Sansa looked wistful, like a character in a book would, as she gazed out at the scene. He snapped a few shots of her before she turned to him and smiled. When she offered to take a few of him, he declined, always feeling uncomfortable to be in pictures by himself. She remedied that by enlisting the help of a fellow tourist to take their picture with the beautiful background. With her arm around his back and his around her shoulders, Jon realized it was becoming less awkward. Just two friends taking a vacation, he thought. While pretending to be romantically involved, no big deal.

They came down the other end of the bridge to a row of souvenir stands along the street. Jon noticed Sansa craning her neck to see into them as they passed.

"Looking for anything in particular?"

"I must get a postcard for each day we're here, each location. I then write down the events of the day on it. I've done it since I was little. I think my mom started me on it. Back home, I have an album with them from all of our family vacations and what not."

"That's right. I think I still remember the one you got when we all went to Disney World when we were kids. It had basically every princess in front of the castle on it."

"Of course it did," Sansa laughed. "I'm surprised you remembered that."

After finding the perfect postcard for the day and a touristy Venezia shirt that she adored, they took to the streets again. Exploring the San Polo district of Venice, they found it a little quieter there. Stumbling upon a gelateria, they went in and tried two more flavors, Sansa insisting they couldn't break their gelato-each-day pact on the second day. They broke free from the beautifully weathered buildings when they came to a park, pathways winding throughout. They continued on to the Dorsoduro district, through narrow backstreets, Sansa falling in love with greenery that spilled over an old brick wall above the water. She definitely never lost her romanticism, even after two horrible relationships, Jon observed with a smile as Sansa was taking pictures of it. With this being a university district, bookshops were plentiful, so they took some time to meander through a few. Sansa excitedly pointed out his own book in one of the shops.

"Should I get it?" she asked, holding it to her chest.

"You already have had issues with fitting things into your luggage, and this is just the first full day of a long trip. There's going to be so many more souvenirs to come, I bet. Plus, I'm sure I can get you one through the publisher."

"That doesn't count! It's more authentic to actually buy the Italian translation in an actual Italian bookshop. I'm getting it," she answered stubbornly and headed toward the cashier, leaving Jon smiling behind her.

Finally, they came to the rustic-looking wooden Academy Bridge, Ponte dell'Accademia. They crossed over it, stopping in the middle for a picture with another stunning view, and came back to the San Marco district. A tall, beautifully ornate church laid on one side of the narrow street and a palazzo with mustard yellow walls and white trimming stood on the other. Eventually they reached their hotel, happy to not be running into any of their travel companions as they quickly went up to their room. Sansa hopped into the shower first, coming out in the hotel robe and wet hair.

"Do you think the hotel would notice if one of the robes just disappeared after we check out?" she wondered, her arms wrapped around herself.

"More than likely, yes," Jon laughed. "So what should I be wearing for this 'fancy' dinner tonight?" he asked, a little nervous as he looked over his options.

"Do you just want me to pick something out for you while you're in the shower?" Sansa offered with a smile.

"Yes," he said, relief in his voice. He took his turn in the elegant bathroom (an adjective he never thought he'd use to describe a bathroom) and finally decided to try out the other fluffy robe that hung on the wall, realizing Sansa had been right about it, it was insanely comfortable. He came out of the steamy bathroom and found his black suit and a black button up shirt laid out on the bed. "All black, huh? Isn't that something they teased me for back in the day?" he wondered.

"Own it. You'll look damn good," Sansa asserted while she applied makeup. Something about her saying that made him feel proud. After dressing, he took to the desk to write his notes from their day in his leather notebook while Sansa went to the bathroom to blow dry and curl her hair. Just as he finished describing the magnificently old and worn architecture they passed throughout their walk from St. Mark's to the hotel, the bathroom door opened. Out stepped Sansa, makeup perfect, curls soft, and wearing a black cocktail dress. It clung wonderfully to her curves, an off-the-shoulder number with the length falling to just below her knees with a slit up her thigh. Sansa had always been beautiful; no one, including him, could ever deny that. But this time it was just different.

"While I definitely appreciate all the walking today considering all the carbs I've been eating here, it is not gonna be very comfortable to wear these heels tonight," she casually mentioned as she slipped into black stilettos. "And now we match!" she exclaimed, looking into the full length mirror.

"I feel quite underdressed next to you," Jon said as he came up next to her.

"Nonsense. You look flawless." She slipped her arm through his and smiled at their reflection. "Are you ready?"

"As much as I can be."

Sansa gave a strong, affirmative nod toward their counterparts in the mirror before they turned to the door.

"You look stunning by the way," Jon mentioned, as nonchalant as he could, while they waited for the elevator.

"Oh, that's so sweet! You two look amazing!"

Margaery's voice, so close behind, made them jump a little. She and Joffrey had just come out of their room nearby.

"You look marvelous, Margaery. That dress is absolutely killer," Sansa complimented, eyeing the slinky green ensemble.

"Oh yes, green has always been your favorite, hasn't it? That's right. This is just an old little thing I dug out of my closet."

While the ladies fawned over their outfits, Jon noticed Joffrey's eyes grazing over Sansa, up and down, slowly. A subtle smirk upturned his lips. She's not yours, dipshit. Never will be, Jon thought as he glared at him. The ding of the elevator's arrival shook him from it. The doors slid open to reveal Viserys and his girlfriend. The look of disdain, curtained by his icy blond hair, was unmistakable. Once they boarded and the elevator continued to take them upward, Jon could see a lazy look of approval on his ex's brother's face when he gave Sansa a onceover. Jon held out his arm to her as she looped hers through with a smile. When the elevator opened, they stepped out onto the rooftop terrace, the sun setting in the distance, and the magnificent Basilica di Santa Maria della Salute across the canal and lit up with lights.

"Oh wow," Sansa breathed. She immediately went to the edge, pulled out her phone and took a few pictures.

"You'll obviously want one of you and your beau," Margaery chimed in, holding her hand out for Sansa's phone.

"Oh, of course, yes," Sansa stammered. Jon rejoined her side and they settled into their couple's pose, the basilica shining behind them against the darkening sky. When they were done, Sansa kindly offered to take pictures of her and Joffrey. While she did so, Jon looked around the terrace. The rest of their companions were already there, standing around and chatting with drinks in hand. I'm definitely going to need one - or a few - of those tonight, he thought. A small bar was set up at the other end.

Before he could make a move toward it, Joffrey and his shit-eating grin came up to him, clamping a hand on his shoulder. "All in black again, Snow? Are you trying to resurrect your high school days?" he laughed. Harry chuckled along with him.

"I think it's sexy," Sansa asserted, her arm wrapping around his neck and her other hand resting on his chest. Something stirred within him. He chalked it up to Sansa actually standing up for him, unlike her bouts of silence when it would happen all those years ago.

She's just keeping up appearances, he told himself. "Can I get you something to drink," he asked her with a proud smile.

"I'll come with you," she suggested, resting her hand in the crux of his elbow.

Jon noticed the stares that followed them as they walked by. He had started to get used to these looks and it had only been about 24 hours since they arrived. He'd seen them from passerby as they explored Venice throughout the day. He, of course, had observed it from her two exes, as well as some of the other men in their group. Even from Viserys, who was always known to be picky and indifferent. Sansa was radiant, day in and day out. She deserved those looks of admiring interest. What he had to get used to were the looks of jealousy shot his way by those men. Joffrey, so used to getting what he wanted, now wore sour looks whenever they were around. But Jon found Harry's glares even more enjoyable. Jon could see it written on his face - even now out of the corner of his eye as they ordered their drinks - regret and anger. Anger over how dare she look this good or anger that she's here with me? Probably both, he figured. And this after he broke her heart by cheating on her and then insisting on trying to embarrass her by not only coming on this trip, but also bringing along the girl he cheated on her with. Jon was broken out of his thoughts as the bartender pushed their two Gritti Palace signature cocktails in front of them. Sansa smiled and held out her glass for him to clink with his.

"To a hopefully drama-free night," she whispered.

"Spoke too soon," he mumbled as he took a sip. Harry was coming their way.

"Snow," Harry said, his voice terse, before he completely turned to Sansa, essentially cutting Jon off from her. "Sansa, I was wondering if we could talk."

Sansa's eyes darted to Jon for a moment before answering Harry. "Okay," she said dubiously. Another glance toward Jon that he couldn't quite read and then she and Harry stepped away.

Jon stood there with his drink, wondering why he hated the feeling he had in his gut. Because you're just looking out for her. Like Arya wanted you to, he told himself. Taking one more sip, he suddenly wasn't alone anymore. Varys and Illyrio had joined him, asking about his book and telling him how much they liked it. Shae, Margaery, and Ellaria came over to talk about it as well. And if it wasn't for his eyes constantly darting toward Sansa and Harry, half of his concentration on that, he would have found it quite laughable that these people wouldn't have given him the time of day not that long ago.

"Aww, look, he can't even take his eyes off of his lover," Ellaria purred, her hand sliding down his forearm. Jon forced a smile and small laugh.

"I'm still trying to figure out how I just never saw it before," Margaery added, her eyes narrowing in thought and her trademark smile upon her lips.

Jon decided it was time to change the subject. "So it's been a few years; what are you all up to now?"

Shae started in on her new job. Jon tried to pay enough attention to nod at the correct moments while also trying to limit the amount of times he looked over to Sansa. It was getting a little heated and animated between the exes. At one point he thought he could make out Sansa's mouth forming the words "fuck you, Harry" and it made Jon smile. She came striding over, irritation on her face but still looking like a model on the runway.

Jon raised his eyebrows at her. "Everything okay?" he leaned in and whispered as Illyrio went on about the company he started.

"Yeah," she whispered back with a small smile, downing her drink before jumping into the conversation. Jon could see Harry stalk back to his current girlfriend, shooting another glare of death toward Jon.

Finally, it was time to be sat at the table. Everything was white, crisp, clean - from the tablecloth, to the dishes, to the flowers. A bunch of them were praising Margaery for her design choices. Multiple courses were brought out to them, one by one. From small bites to main entrees, from seafood to pastas; half the time he wasn't even completely sure what he was eating, but it was all absolutely delicious. The different wines that were poured for them all paired very well with each dish. And dessert was downright delectable. It all went fairly well. He and Sansa sat closer to their slightly more enjoyable companions while people like Harry, Joffrey, Viserys, and Talisa sat at the other end of the long table. Eventually, the plates were cleared away and some of the couples started to head off to their rooms.

"We should head in too, babe," Sansa said, giving his bicep a little squeeze.

"Aww, how about just one more drink?" Margaery insisted.

"No, we should be going to sleep. We're planning on going over to the island of Burano tomorrow morning."

"Mmm hmm, go to 'sleep,'" Margaery teased. "See you in the afternoon for the museum tour, lovebirds."

Sansa gave her a fake laugh as Jon stood up and offered her his hand. "Good night, then," she smiled while accepting his assistance to get up. She made sure to keep a hold of his hand as they walked back to the elevator, knowing her friends' eyes were on them. Once in the safety of their room, Sansa let out a loud sigh. "Well at least that one is over with. How awful was it for you?" she asked, giving him a sympathetic look as she kicked her high heels off and went to the bathroom to change out of her dress.

"The amazing food made up for any awkward horribleness. Just barely," he laughed.

"At least we looked great," she shrugged when she came out in her pajamas and plopped down on the bed. "Speaking of which, would you mind if I posted a picture of us from tonight? I was really feeling my look but I didn't get any pictures by myself."

"Go for it," Jon said as he stepped into the bathroom to change and wrapped himself in the robe once more.

"That robe is heaven, isn't it?" Sansa asked, looking up from her phone.

"You definitely weren't exaggerating."

Jon went to his notebook on the desk, sitting to scribble in more notes about that night - the view, the smells, the food and drinks. Meanwhile, Sansa got back up to wash her face. He checked the notification on his phone, the tagged post from Sansa. It really was a great picture and it looked like Jon truly belonged there with her. Sansa came back out and he set his phone down, not wanting to get caught staring at the photo. She climbed into bed, grabbing the postcard she had bought earlier and a pen. Every now and then, he'd glance over at her and smile at the way she screwed up her nose or her mouth when she was contemplating what to write next on the back of it. When Jon was finally plumb out of thoughts to note, he shed the robe, and slid between the sheets, careful to keep a respectful distance between them.

"Good night, Sansa," he said with a yawn.

"Good night, Jon," she answered, putting her postcard and pen down and turning off her bedside lamp.