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“Sansa.”
She feels a hand upon her shoulder and presses her face into the featherbed. Jon sighs and attempts to gather the furs to cover her but it is not an easy task when her limp body lies atop them. She gives a soft, sleepy whine and turns toward him.
In truth, she had woken before he entered, but she didn’t wish to leave his bed. It was comforting in a way that hers was not. It would be more comforting still, she imagines, if he didn’t leave whenever he found her there.
A soft touch graces her cheek and she wills herself not to react. Her heartbeat picks up pace, anticipation coiling within her. Perhaps it is wrong to steer him so, to pretend like this, but she cannot help herself. Like clockwork, she feels his lips against her cheek and aches for more.
She cannot say when these feelings began to stir in her, feelings of wanting. It had been innocent enough, the first few times she’d fallen asleep in his chambers. It had been innocent enough even when she began to feign deep sleep to stay there. But then…she was sure the touches had been innocent once too.
It had been a slow build: a small caress, fingers through her hair, a kiss to her temple. There was nothing out of sorts with these shows of affection. Yet she could not quell the voice inside as it told her they were not so virtuous, the voice which was a myriad of many who had given her council over the years. It spoke of gentleness and yearning, of kisses that lingered too long, of things he wouldn’t let himself do in the daylight.
As he begins to walk away, she opens her eyes and finds courage within herself to ask the question which has been troubling her for some time. “Why do you only kiss me when I’m asleep?”
He stills, keeping his back to her. She pulls the furs up around her shoulders like armor. He is the one who has been confronted and yet it’s she who feels laid bare.
“How long have you been awake?” he asks, voice betraying no emotion.
She decides that if she wants an honest answer, she should start by giving her own. “A while. But you didn’t answer my question.”
He still does not face her. “What would you have me say?”
The truth, she thinks, and then considers the words. It has been a long held belief of hers that the truth is always either terrible or boring. Whatever is growing between them doesn’t feel as if it falls under either label. It feels warm and safe.
She needs to see his face, she realizes suddenly, before she says anything else. She cannot find nerve in the stiff and unforgiving line of his back. Quietly, she leaves the soft bed and walks to him. Where she expects resistance in turning him around, he gives her none. She keeps her hand on his arm and looks at him. His eyes seem to plead with her and she cannot tell if he wishes her closer or further away. She does not think even he knows, so she must make the choice for the both of them.
She presses forward, letting her lips meet his, and her eyelids flutter closed. A hand slides around her waist and he kisses back tenderly, never taking more than she gives. When they part, he rests their foreheads together and she can see the fear from before setting back in. She refuses to let it remain. Not tonight. She grips his hand in hers. “I want you to stay.”
He stares at her and she does her best to convince him wordlessly. Finally, he softens, giving her a small smile. Amusement dances in his eyes. “These are my chambers, you know.”
“Are they?” she teases. “I hadn’t noticed.”
He kisses her again and accepts the lie with a grin. “Aye. It’s an easy mistake to make.”