There are going to be time jumps or brief overviews in the next part of this story as I would essentially be writing too much from the book or show. The primary focus of this section will be Jon's story, but we will start with Sansa.
So I thought I'd leave you with a quite a bit of practical fluff. ;)
Sansa was warm, correction, she was very warm; strong arms engulfed her, making her feel secure and at peace. She never wanted this feeling to end, she wanted to stay in this extremely warm embrace, but as she became more and more awake to the world, she realised she was too warm and the body next to her was hotter than she'd ever known anyone to be. Not only that, but she wanted to make water. Sansa opened her eyes to see a sleeping Jon, well the chest of a sleeping Jon, she was so wrapped up in him, she couldn't lift her head. Admittedly, if it wasn't for the fact she needed to make water and was too hot, she wouldn't have moved. Carefully she managed to slightly disentangle herself and move before his arms were around her again, clearly not wanting to let go. However at least she could free herself enough to stick an arm out of the furs to cool down.
Once she'd managed to free herself enough, it allowed her to look at Jon, to really look at him without feeling self-conscious. As much as Jon had the Stark look, and people claimed he looked like her father, there was very little resemblance at all. Of course he had the Stark colouring and his hair was curly, like many of the Starks, he had the long face too, but that was where his likeness stopped. The shape of his eyes, head, nose and lips were wrong. His features were as handsome as could be; delicate, almost pretty like a girl, although she knew he would one day grow to look very masculine. His dark eyelashes fanned his cheeks and his forehead crinkled, as if he were worrying, even in his sleep. There were no battle scars, and no proper beard. She hadn't been japing when she said she looked forward to it growing properly instead of the boyish bumfluff he was sporting at the moment.
A twinge of guilt ran through her. She'd claimed Daenerys had used him, not seeing how it was possible that Daenerys had seen something she hadn't, his beauty, although his kindness, strength, bravery and stupidity at wanting to be the hero were always on display. That was the moment Sansa realised he was genuinely the prince she had always dreamed of when she was a little girl. Not Joffrey or Ser Loras, he had been hidden in plain sight, and he was her husband.
Stop being a stupid little girl, she suddenly wanted to kick herself for wanting everything to work out fine. Just because he has his arms around you, doesn't mean it is you he wants. Deep down she knew he loved another, and in the pit of her stomach, it hurt. Sansa knew she could not allow her feelings to surpass that of the familial relationship with Jon, not until they'd dealt with the dead. They'd already gone through it once and not survived. If she loved him in any other way than what she was accustomed to, and if he was to fall during battle again and she somehow survived, she wasn't sure how she could cope with the loss. Instead, Sansa decided to close her heart and become the icy Lady of Winterfell, until the long night passed. Of course, that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy the comfort of being snuggled up to him in the morning, it would be quite nice when the weather turned cold.
This brought Sansa on to another thought, Jon was very warm. She'd never noticed it before, but maybe that was because she'd never been so close with so few layers of clothing between them. Heat absolutely radiated from his body, unlike anyone else she'd ever met. Instantly, Sansa knew it was his dragon blood singing in the cold of the north. Whether Sansa could love him as a wife or not, she was blessed with her own little fire burning under the furs, more than any other woman.
Body heat wasn't the only fire of his that was burning, she could feel his morning hardness, such was their close proximity. It didn't embarrass her like she expected, very little did these days. After the things Ramsay had done to her body, there was nothing that could shame her. However, she knew Jon might not feel that way. Sansa managed to wriggle free of his grip and gingerly made her way to the privy to make water and clean her teeth and wash her face.
Upon returning to the bedchamber, Jon was waking up, stretching and yawning. "Did I wake you up?" Sansa asked.
"I don't know." Jon's voice was hoarse and groggy. "You weren't here when I started to come round."
"Sorry if I did. I had to move you. You are extremely warm. Has anyone ever told you?" she asked.
Jon shook his head. "Ygritte mentioned something about body heat once, but not that I was any warmer than other people. Daenerys never said anything either."
"If it is your dragon blood, she probably wouldn't have noticed, you would have felt normal to her. Maybe I can feel it more because I'm a Stark." she shrugged.
"Ice blood." Jon japed and sat up, his hands covering the tented area which the morning brought to men.
Sansa turned around, trying not to blush, for it wasn't embarrassing when he was asleep, but it was when he was awake and aware of it. "I'll go change while you get up." she said, heading to the dressing room.
"Aye, that's a good idea." Jon looked awkward as Sansa left the room.
Sansa was glad she had started wearing breeches and a coat like Daenerys for the time being. It was practical and made dressing a far easier task. She would need to make some more clothes like this as she would now have a little more time on her hands, now that the keep was finished. Therefore it didn't take her as long to get ready these days as it once had. So when she walked into the bedchambers and saw Jon wearing only his breeches, she stopped in her tracks.
"Oh, I thought you'd be dressed by now." she grimaced. "I'll go back into the dressing room." she turned to leave.
"Why?" he asked. "I'm used to getting dressed in front of others at Castle Black, I'll be doing it again when I get there. And it's not like we won't... well you know." he looked down, clearly not entirely comfortable saying what he meant.
"I know." Sansa nodded. "At least neither of us will carry the horrible scars we had before."
"I never thought about that." Jon frowned as he threw a tunic over his head and began to lace the neck up. I suppose we'll get new ones along the way though." he looked up at her. "Has the mark gone, the one you had when we returned?"
Sansa had wondered about that. The bruise where she'd been bit had almost disappeared, just the tiniest of faint marks where it once was. Nobody would be able to see it unless it was pointed out, but Sansa knew it was there. This was the first time either Jon or Arya had mentioned it, and Sansa had wondered if it were just because her skin was so pale.
"There is a tiny mark. I doubt anyone else would see it." she admitted.
"Aye, same here. I've got one on my shin where my leg broke. It is so faint that nobody would see it unless I pointed it out and they looked very closely. It is like a scar." Jon was fiddling with the ties on his brigandine. "I've got a feeling they will stay with us as reminders for the rest of our lives."
"As if we're ever likely to forget." Sansa walked over to Jon and began to help him, having already done this numerous times.
"Thank you." Jon smiled.
"You know that Tyrion will expect us to look affectionate. Well as much as mother and father do." Sansa said.
"We haven't been married for seventeen years." Jon reminded her.
"Aren't newlyweds even worse? Sansa asked. "Tyrion would think I've flowered. He wanted to consummate the marriage and I wasn't much older than I am now. You are much younger and it would be less uncomfortable for you than him, and as you aren't a dwarf, I would be more agreeable." she finished fastening his clothes and turning him around. "There, you look almost presentable."
"Almost?" Jon asked. Sansa turned to the chair and picked up Jon's cloak. "Ah." he nodded and put it over his shoulders, and Sansa began to fasten it as there was a knock on the door. "Come in." Jon called out as Robb walked in the room to see Sansa finishing dressing Jon. He looked at them in surprise.
"You don't need to go that far in front of me," he said.
Jon looked at Sansa puzzled. "I used to do this before war councils and battles." she told Robb. "It always gave us an excuse to talk quietly so nobody could listen. It has become a habit."
Robb frowned. "It just looks a lot like you two aren't going to need much convincing," he said. "It seems too close."
Sansa turned to Robb before Jon even got to open his mouth. "Jon and I have worked together for over two years. A lot of that time was spent in rough conditions, in tents, among wildlings and other inconveniences. We had to rely on each other for everything. Transitioning into a married couple will probably be far easier for us than most considering how we were raised." she glanced over at Jon for reinforcement.
"She's right Robb. There are things you don't know, things we won't share. If Sansa wishes to share her horrors with you, that is her decision. I was there when she needed help picking up the pieces. I saw some of the scars, both visible and invisible. These things tend to create close bonds." Jon agreed, holding out his arm. "Lady Whitestark, shall we?" he smirked as Sansa took his arm.
"Lead the way my Lord." she grinned as they made their way downstairs to break their fast.
The day was spent going through the rebuilding of the village, especially with Robb. Jon was relaying his role, which Robb would be taking over. It also meant Robb would have to help her with her dagger training, as her archery was more about practice than anything else. Again, that evening they ate in the grandchamber solar before retiring one last time before the three of them would be split for a long time. Sansa was lying awake in bed when Jon came to join her.
"I can't believe you're leaving." she said glumly.
"It has to be done." Jon said. "Nobody else can talk to Mance like I can."
"I know. Do you think he'll agree?" she asked.
"It depends on what the Lord Commander allows." Jon replied. "I'd love for him to agree to let the entire one hundred thousand Freefolk through the wall, but he won't. A thousand maybe. And as long as they act properly, living by the laws which Lord Stark and the Lord Commander order, then gradually they can be brought through the wall and settled here."
"And fealty?"
"What King Robert doesn't know won't hurt him. Anyway, he's not going to be the problem, Joffrey would. I will promise that they don't need to swear fealty to Robert or Joffrey." Jon smiled.
"They won't like it if they have to swear fealty to you." Sansa rested her head on her hand, staring at Jon in the orange light of the fire.
"They never swore fealty when we fought at Winterfell did they?" Jon smirked.
Sansa realised what he was getting at. "You'll gain their fealty by not asking them to swear it." Jon nodded. "Very clever. You might not know how to play the game at Kings Landing, but you certainly know how to play the Freefolk."
"What is the difference?" Jon asked.
Sansa thought for a moment. "The Freefolk are honest, the court is not."
"Thank the gods I'm married to the most qualified woman in Westeros to help me master court." Jon smiled.
Sansa smiled sadly. "I'm going to miss you." she said. "I've even gotten used to the boy version of you, although not the bumfluff."
"Come here." Jon held his arms out and Sansa crawled inside, for him to give her a hug. "I'll miss you too." he whispered into her ear, before kissing her on the forehead.
Sansa gave him a peck on the cheek in return and then brought up her icy demeanour for her next words. "I think we will need to practice our goodbye kiss."
"Why?" Jon frowned.
Sansa lowered her eyes. "I've never kissed anyone properly before. I think Tyrion might notice, he never misses anything. He needs to think we've been... intimate." she felt nervous, she had never done anything like this, and no matter how thick she built the icy wall around her, this was always going to be difficult.
Jon nodded. "Aye alright. Do you want to do it now or in the morning?" he ran his fingers through his hair, which seemed to have grown quite a bit since they'd arrived back as teenagers. "Probably better both, it will seem more realistic."
Sansa nodded. "So what do I need to do?" she asked, her lips pressed together, trying to remind herself she was the Lady of Winterfell and other than dragons and whitewalkers, she feared nothing, not even kissing Jon.
"Lay down." Jon told her, so she lay flat to the bed.
"But we'll be stood up." Sansa frowned.
"Instinct will take over when we're stood up." Jon smiled nervously as he positioned himself to her side and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Wrap your arms around me, whichever way it feels most comfortable."
Sansa wrapped her left arm around Jon's waist and her right arm around his shoulders. "Is this right?" her heart was thumping, for it was really going to happen.
Jon laughed. "There's no right or wrong way. I'll lead the way, just follow what I do at first until you settle into it. I'll let you take over when I think you're comfortable." Sansa looked at him confused. "It will make sense." he promised. "Now close your eyes, and imagine the most handsome man you've ever met, other than Robb." Sansa laughed as she closed her eyes, then suddenly his mouth was on hers, gently at first, almost chaste.
The laughter died as soon as his lips touched hers. His mouth was soft, warm and gentle, and tasted of ale. After a few moments, his tongue probed into her mouth, which initially felt strange, yet seconds later felt like the most normal and wonderful thing in the world. Her heart beat faster as Jon's arms tightened around her, pulling her into him, without thought, she responded, pulling on his waist and shoulders. Instinct kicked in, as if her body knew what to do, a skill she was born with, but had no idea she possessed it until the right moment. Sansa didn't even need to imagine anyone other than Jon, for in truth, he was probably the most handsome man she had met.
Eventually they needed to stop to breathe properly. Sansa opened her eyes to see Jon staring at her, his dark grey eyes looked almost black. His lips were swollen from their kissing and he was panting slightly. He was almost sinfully beautiful, Sansa realised, and an extremely good kisser. She just hoped she'd done it properly.
"Did I get it right?" she blushed.
It was Jon's turn to laugh. "Yes Sansa, you got it right." he pulled away and lay on his back. "We'll do it again before we get up. I think we can pull off the love-lorn teenagers who did something they shouldn't have done and had to wed as a result."
"We'll need to warn Robb and Arya. They can't seem too disgusted by it." Sansa suggested.
"Arya yes, Robb no." Jon smirked. "Arya would be used to us by now if we were smitten. On the other hand it would be something I would have kept as far from Robb as possible. If he'd witnessed it I'd have lost my teeth, had a broken nose, black eye, or all three."
"You think he'll be angry?" Sansa asked.
Jon nodded. "Explain to him after we've gone that it was a ruse to trick Lord Tyrion." he yawned. "Goodnight Sansa." he said and turned over.
"Goodnight Jon." Sansa turned to face the window and closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. She touched her lips, remembering how it felt being kissed by Jon, and she suddenly wanted to weep, knowing that they would be parted for almost a year, if not more.
The next morning, she once more found herself wrapped in Jon's arms, the heat from his body cocooning her. The morning light streamed through the window, and Sansa knew they wouldn't have much time together, so she decided to wake him.
"Jon." she whispered.
"Mmm, Sansa." he mumbled, surprising her. She thought he'd probably be dreaming about cuddling up to Daenerys or Ygritte.
"Jon, wake up." Sansa said. "We'll need to get up soon."
Jon opened his eyes and quickly screwed them up at the brightness of the room. "Don't want to get up." he complained, when he suddenly realised how they were laying and jumped back. "Sorry."
Sansa laughed. "You did the same yesterday morning. That is why I said you were really warm."
"Oh." Jon ran his fingers through his hair.
"Shall we get it out of the way?" Sansa asked.
"Erm, now might not be the best time." Jon said uncomfortably, Sansa rolled her eyes.
"I'm not a child. I know how a man wakes up. I'm sure you can ignore it for a few minutes, then go and sort yourself out in the privy." she said in a matter of fact voice, much to Jon's shocked face.
Deciding to take the lead, Sansa wrapped her arms around Jon's neck and pulled him towards her, she lifted her head and began to kiss him. Although she expected him to resist a little, he did the opposite and wrapped his arms around her waist. This time the kiss was far more intense, their tongues explored and danced, a small moan erupted from Sansa's mouth. Jon's hand ran down the side of her nightdress and instinctively, she lifted her leg over his hip, while she wrapped one arm around his body and ran her fingers through his hair. She could feel his hardness through the flimsy material which separated them, it didn't bother her, instead it seemed to encourage her, pressing her body against his, while heat flooded to the apex of her thighs. Jon pulled away.
"Sansa, we need to stop." he said, breathlessly.
Sansa knew he was right, they'd gotten too carried away and they were in a very improper position. Sansa pulled her leg down and blushed. "I completely agree. I think we went too far." she nodded. "At least we know we can make it appear realistic." trying to rationale their behaviour. She sat up, as did Jon.
"I don't think we need to go that far." Jon agreed. "Do you need to use the privy?" he asked.
"I'll be quick." Sansa nodded, making her way to the privy to make water. She returned and let Jon use the room and she ventured into the dressing chamber, giving Jon as much peace as possible. In truth, her heart was still pounding from the kiss. Now she had to wait another year before she'd see him again, she wasn't sure how she was going to bear it. She had missed him when he went to Dragonstone and returned with Daenerys. Back then she was merely his sister, now she was his wife and they'd kissed, twice. Not only that, but for the first time since her ordeal, she had actually had the desire to be bedded.
Before this morning, the notion of being intimate with a man, even Jon, had scared her a little. She knew he'd never hurt her, but it was what she believed to be done for duty, not pleasure. Lady Margaery had told her women could get pleasure from the act, something Sansa hadn't truly believed at the time, and until less than half an hour ago, she still hadn't believed it. And now she was going to have to wait a year to experience it, this made Sansa very frustrated. In truth, Sansa knew this stupidly young body wasn't ready for a bedding. She was now ten and four and she wouldn't bleed for at least another eight turns of the moon, if her memory served her correct. In that time, her body would change, her breasts would grow, and she would become a womanly shape. Maybe Jon would like her more then. It would at least give him chance to get over Daenerys. That was the moment the doubt crept in. she wondered who he'd thought of when he was kissing her. Not that she wanted to know, but he had made the suggestion that she should imagine someone she really liked.
Deciding not to dwell on the matter of Jon's heart, she dressed in her best breeches, or dark grey, with a matching woollen coat. Around the bottom and the cuffs was sewn a white direwolf with red eyes, to match Ghost, who was the sigil of house Whitestark, despite the fact that it didn't exist. As soon as Jon left, she would get to work on their Targaryen clothes.
Sansa finished braiding her hair in the northern style, and deciding she was ready, she called out to Jon. "Are you decent?"
"Does it matter? I'll need your help." he replied.
Sansa entered the bedchamber, where he was once more only wearing his breeches and boots. For some inexplicable reason, she blushed and her tummy flipped. She need to get a grip on her emotions. Gods she hated being a teenager again. "What do you need help with?" she asked as Jon put a black tunic over his head and tucked it into his breeches.
"The black brigandine." he said.
"You're going to look like you ought to be one of the Night's Watch again." Sansa shook her head. "Please don't take the vows." she began to help fasten the heavy metal plated, leather armour.
Jon put his hand on top of hers and stopped what she was doing. "I'd have to be an idiot to do that." he smiled and glanced down at her lips. "I really would." he put one arm around her waist and pulled her, when the knock came at the door.
"Arya." Sansa mouthed at Jon. "Come in." she called out as Jon's arm dropped and Sansa took one step back.
"How in seven hells are you going to manage to dress yourself without her help?" she asked.
"Arya, close the door. We need to have a quick word." Sansa told her sister, who did as she was told and sat on the crumpled bed.
"Go on then." Arya said.
"Tyrion doesn't believe we've consummated the marriage. Should this reach the King he might not be very pleased." Jon took a deep breath. "To make it realistic, Sansa and I will have to... kiss and it needs to look like it is from two people who are not strangers to kissing one another."
"Oh." Arya looked at them both. "So a passionate snog to say goodbye."
"Something like that." Sansa nodded. "But you need to appear like it is normal behaviour for Jon and I to be affectionate with one another."
"As if we've been behaving ourselves in front of Tyrion, Robb and Benjen." Jon added.
"Alright then. Whatever you say. I will just tell you I think it is disgusting, but as you two are married, I suspect it will get a whole lot worse, considering you two will be doing what you are supposed to be doing." she sighed. "Go on then, break me in so I don't feel completely disgusted. Make it properly passionate so I can judge whether it looks realistic or not. Tyrion isn't stupid. He'll know a fake looking kiss when he sees one."
"But you'll be staring." Sansa was aghast.
"Isn't that point? It won't be just me staring outside." Arya folded her arms.
"She's got a point." Jon agreed. "Just forget she's here."
Sansa nodded as Jon pulled her towards him, just like he did when Arya arrived. Jon's eyes were dark, he looked at her lips, she glanced down at his and closed her eyes as they began to kiss. At first it was tentative and almost a little chaste, but the moment their tongues collided, the kiss became more passionate. Nothing else existed, except the kiss and the sudden sound of coughing in the background. Jon and Sansa pulled away, both a little flush and panting.
"Would you like me to leave the room?" Arya asked. "I don't think you need to go that far for Tyrion to believe you." even Arya looked a little shocked by what she'd seen. "Are we going to go and say goodbye?"
"I'll just finish dressing Jon." Sansa said, "We'll meet you downstairs."
"Alright." Arya nodded and stepped out of the room. "Bloody teenagers." she said loudly. "Can't keep their hands to themselves."
Eventually they were outside the village inn to say their goodbyes. The soldiers were nowhere in sight, giving them plenty of privacy. Both Sansa and Arya got a kiss on the cheek from uncle Benjen, who gave Robb a hug. Tyrion shook Robb's hand and kissed the backs of Sansa's and Arya's hands.
Then it came for Jon to say goodbye. Robb and Arya got a hug, then Jon approached Sansa. The tears which pricked her eyes were real, she didn't want him to go. Jon took Sansa's gloved hands in his and brought them to his mouth and kissed them, his eyes never leaving hers. He stepped closer and they rested their foreheads against one another, as Jon caressed Sansa's cheek; she leaned into his touch and closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the memory. She gazed at his lips and lifted her head. Jon wrapped his arms around her waist and she placed hers around his shoulders and their lips touched. This kiss wasn't passionate like the others; it was a goodbye, a promise or a new life between them.
Their lips separated, but their foreheads were still pressed together.
"Come back to me Jon." Sansa whispered, not caring if anyone else heard or not. This was between just them.
"I will, I promise." he smiled. "I might have to hurry back."
"You're not allowed back until the bumfluff has gone." she japed, despite the tears falling from her eyes.
"I'll try my best." Jon told her, and out of the blue, he kissed her again. When he pulled away, she could see he was holding back the tears. "I'll write when I get to Castle Black." he promised.
"I'll write every day." Sansa nodded.
"Seven hells you two." came Arya's voice. "I'm getting soaked out here."
Jon walked over to his horse, and Sansa followed. She handed him a black handkerchief with a white direwolf with red eyes. "I made this for you." she handed him the favour.
"I'll cherish it." he said, tucking it into a small pocket in his tunic, before mounting his horse. "I'll be back before you know it."
"Make sure you are." she said, stepping back as Jon's horse began to walk forward to join the others who had already left.
Sansa, Arya and Robb watched as the party rode off into the distance. "What was that all about?" Robb asked.
"Making sure Tyrion thinks we've consummated the marriage." Sansa swallowed.
"And the tears? I didn't take you and Jon for being such good mummers." Robb eyed her carefully.
"If you knew what was beyond that wall, then you would understand!" Sansa snapped and began to storm off, but Robb managed to grab her arm. She turned to face him. "What?" she asked.
Robb handed Sansa a letter. "I had to wait until they left before I gave you this. Fathers said if Tyrion sees it, there could be trouble. I have no idea what is written in it." he said as Sansa opened the scroll.
Sansa
We received the letter you mentioned on the evening the King asked me to be his Hand. The letter is under lock and key. I will release the funds you require for the glass gardens, for both Queenscrown and Castle Black. Your mother wishes to visit and will be leaving about a fortnight after Robb. I look forward to hearing from you.
Your loving father
Lord Eddard Stark.
Sansa looked up at Robb and Arya. "Mother is coming."