Work Text:
Feeling anxious and wanting some privacy, Sansa slips away from her parents and siblings’ interviews to the nearby sept, hoping to find a little peace and quiet while she gathers her thoughts.
The dress is gorgeous, she will give them that. A lovely ivory shade with elegantly beaded bodice, billowing skirts and a sweeping train, it’s all her girlhood fairy tale wedding gown fantasies rolled into one.
If only I could take more than three steps in it without knocking something over…and if only I still believed in fairy tales.
She sighs, telling herself that’s no good. Her fairy tales reside in storybooks where they belong and she’s not marrying some dashing prince with a heart of gold.
Well, he could be…
She doesn’t know for sure. She only knows his name is Jon and they’re getting married in a couple of hours on live television.
How did Sansa Stark, a bonafide romantic all the way down to her toes, wind up agreeing to say ‘I do’ to a stranger on Westeros’ ridiculous but incredibly popular reality show ‘My Honeymoon with a Stranger?’
It’s a long, sad story full of disappointing relationships and one meddlesome friend whose family happens to produce the show.
“It’s fun, Sansa! You’ll be a celebrity!”
“Not one of my life goals, Margaery.”
“You get an amazing vacation out of it.”
“With a stranger.”
“Yeah, but three weeks at the Summer Isles…”
“With a film crew.”
“And if you’re not blissfully happy by the end of the three weeks…”
“I can add divorcée to my résumé.”
Anyway, she’d agreed and there was no going back now. She’d signed a contract and Arya had promised to come gut the guy if he tried any funny business. Yes, you were married at first sight and obligated to spend a three-week honeymoon at a secluded island retreat together (being filmed nearly round-the-clock) but that didn’t mean you had to consummate that marriage. Plenty of the couples in past seasons certainly had (always a big boost to the ratings even if it was blurred out and edited to a couple of minutes on air).
But only one couple from the show has actually stayed married, sweet Sam and his Gilly. Now, that was the kind of strangers-fall-in-love story Sansa could root for unlike the drama and shenanigans most people tuned into ‘My Honeymoon with a Strange’ to watch. She’d been so thrilled to get to meet them last week and hear their story face to face.
The sept is beautiful, filled with stained glass and tons of votive candles all around the room. It could be the wedding of Sansa’s dreams. You know, if I was actually in love with the groom and wasn’t wondering if the wedding segment would be bookended between advertisements for divorce attorneys and birth control.
Sansa lights a candle at each statue of the seven and then lights one candle for each member of her family, thankful they’ve been supportive and had a good sense of humor about all this. They’ll be there to help her pick up the pieces when this all ends in disaster without a doubt. Then, she lights a candle for her groom. She doesn’t know him but she hopes he’s a nice man and they can at least get along over the next three weeks even if…
“You do know your dress is on fire, right?”
“What?!”
She spins, surprised to find herself no longer alone and to find the incredibly handsome owner of that deep husky voice with the Northern accent right behind her...and stomping on the train of her dress at the moment! The blasted train must’ve swept across one of those votives on the floor. It’d be just her luck to be burned alive before she ever says ‘I do.’
“Oh gods!” she shouts, instinct prompting her to run away from the fire.
“Don’t run! That’ll make it spread!”
He grasps her wrist to keep her still. His grip is strong but not hurting. He continues his series of quick stomping motions until the last of the fire is out, leaving a strong odor of smoke in its wake. Her heart is pounding but the fear is receding.
Once it’s out, he looks up at her sheepishly with grey eyes and half a smile as his hand’s raking through a headful of dark curls. “I’m terribly sorry about your lovely dress.”
The train is a blackened ruin but she’s alright and that’s what matters. The producers will probably be pissed…that the film crew didn’t catch this. “Don’t apologize. You saved me. Thank you.”
“Anytime. I was just wanting a little quiet when I came in here and…” He’s scrubbing at his beard and his cheeks are growing pink. “I didn’t expect we’d meet like this.”
“Were we going to meet some other way?” she asks, amused by the stranger’s choice of words.
“Well, I figured we’d be meeting in another hour or so. Sam said you were beautiful and had red hair.”
“Sam? Sam Tarly?”
“Yeah, my best friend. He talked me into giving this a whirl but I’ve been a nervous wreck all day. I saw you lighting your candles and you’re in a wedding dress so I figured it must be you. I was going to leave and let you have your own space but you were so radiant that I couldn’t stop staring at you and…” He chuckles and covers his eyes. “Gods, I’m probably making a fool of myself. Please, tell me you’re Sansa.”
Thunderstruck, her eyes finally take note of his clothes. He’s just in his undershirt but his trousers are decidedly dressy, a dark grey pinstripe, and his black dress shoes were probably quite polished before he’d put out a fire.
“Wait…you’re Jon?”
“Yeah.”
He holds out his hand to shake. Like something out of a grand romance, Sansa would swear she feels electricity tingling all through her body when their hands are clasped for a few precious seconds.
“I am Sansa and it’s very nice to meet you, Jon. Thank you again for coming to my rescue.”
He gives her a fetching grin, his eyes crinkling up at the corners in an adorably fetching manner. “I always dreamt of being some girl’s hero when I was a boy. Guess it’s only proper it might be the woman I’m marrying, huh? Even if she’s ready to divorce me next month.”
“Oh, I don’t know about all that, Jon. Let’s see how the honeymoon goes first, shall we?”