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Jon sighed wearily as he scrubbed the remnants of weirwood sap from his hand in one of the hot springs. Ghost watched his movements silently.
Satisfied his hands were sap free, he stood from his kneeled position and dried them against the fur of his cloak. “Take me to her, boy,” he requested to his loyal direwolf. The white wolf immediately set off, Jon at his heels.
No one approached the pair as they ventured from the godswood towards the direction of the crypts. Jon was glad for it. He didn’t want to be impeded.
They arrived at the crypts, walked right past them, then stopped in front of the Broken Tower. She chose her hiding spot well. He would never have thought to look here. With Ghost sitting sentinel at the base, Jon ascended the tower alone.
“Sansa.”
She never turned from her spot by the window or gave any acknowledgement she heard him. Jon shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he should repeat himself. But Sansa spoke: “You remember?” she asked, her tone resigned.
“Aye.”
“How did you find me?”
“Ghost.” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “Sansa, you’ve done nothing wrong.”
Sansa faced him then. Looking upon her trembling lips, splotchy skin, and glittering eyes full of unshed tears, he wanted to run to her…to comfort her and protect her. But he knew a cornered wolf when he saw one. “Nothing wrong? I’ve committed a sin, an affront to the gods. You’re my brother, and I…” She brought a hand up to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, but he saw a few tears escape. She angrily wiped them away.
“I’m as much to blame as you are,” he argued vehemently. “I could have refused you, but I didn’t.”
“But I went to you first!” she yelled.
Jon shook his head. “It doesn’t matter! If you hadn’t, I would have gone to you.” He chanced touching her, then, cradling her face gently in his hands. “We were inevitable, don’t you see?” he asked softly.
Sansa nodded jerkily, and Jon drew her into his arms. As they swayed from side to side, Jon recalled what Sansa had requested of him in the godswood…and also her declaration. “I do forgive you, and…” He let out a shaky breath against her hair. “I’m still in love with you, too.”
She trembled against him. “I don’t want to let you go.”
“Then don’t.”
She shifted in his arms, brought her hand to his cheek, and bestowed the gentlest of kisses against his lips. It should have felt wrong, with what they now knew, but it didn’t. He sighed when she withdrew, but she didn’t go far. Her thumb caressed his bottom lip once…letting the kiss sink into his skin…before she leaned forward and captured his lips again.