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Sansa holds the fabric of her pulled down dress to her chest and tells herself to be brave.
There’s nothing indecent about a man touching his wife’s bare back and she knows he means her no harm. This isn’t King’s Landing, Sansa tells herself. He isn’t Joffrey .
Her skin stings against his fingers and she flinches.
“I’m sorry,” Prince Quentyn murmurs softly.
Sansa feels her cheeks warm with more than just sunburn.
“It’s fine,” she reassures.
He hums and returns to rubbing the soothing potion onto her back, even more gently.
Sansa closes her eyes and lets herself feel safe.