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Sansa can feel Jon’s eyes on her as she dances with Lord Larence Hornwood. When Larence spins her out, she shoots a pointed look in Jon’s direction on the dais. Stop staring! But Jon’s dark eyes continue to follow her and her partner in a similar fashion to how a wolf stalks its prey. It shoots a thrill up her spine and a blush to her cheeks that she subsequently pretends is due to Larence’s hand grasping her waist.
Larence says something to her then, she sees his lips move and hears his low voice, but for the life of her she can’t make out the words, so she only hums noncommittally in response. Thankfully, the song ends not long after that, and Sansa sweeps into a final, parting curtsy…leaving poor Larence no choice but to bow reluctantly and go off in search of another dance partner.
Sansa turns towards the dais once more, expecting to find Jon poorly attempt to mask his smug look by sipping his ale, but his seat is empty. Confused (and slightly put out), her eyes search the Great Hall until she finds him speaking to the minstrels. Surely, he isn’t?...
His eyes meet hers, gray on blue, and he walks forward with determined strides. He is… Heat rises to Sansa’s cheeks once more, but this time she can’t lay the blame on someone else. A hush falls over the crowd as he reaches her.
“May I?” he asks, holding his arm out. She smiles and accepts his proffered arm.
“I apologize in advance if I step on your toes,” Jon murmurs to her as they walk towards the center of the dance floor. She can feel the tenseness of his arm under her palm, and she sees his sword hand flex. He’s nervous, she realizes. They turn to face each other.
“You won’t. I believe in you.”
He huffs out a laugh, and the song begins. They are the only ones out on the floor, Sansa realizes; the crowd mustn’t want to miss the rare sight of their king dancing. Now it is she whose nerves are aflutter, so she tries to focus on the music instead. It is a long introduction, and Sansa doesn’t recognize the tune until she and Jon are reaching out and placing their palms together. Her face must light up because Jon, who has been watching her intently, says, “I remembered it was one of your favorites.”
Sansa smiles, and they begin to walk around each other, hands still touching. “And I remembered how I fancied the song’s subject to be about me.” She can laugh fondly about it now, but Sansa had gotten ever so cross whenever Arya had jumped at the opportunity to point out, “It can’t be about you. Your eyes aren’t emerald, stupid.”
Jon and Sansa’s hands slide apart, and Jon steps in front of Sansa and places his hands on her waist. Her breath hitches in anticipation. He lifts her in the air with ease as the singers begin the chorus. There is a swooping sensation in her belly when he lowers her carefully to the floor. There is a moment of heavy stillness between the two, with Jon’s warm hands still holding her and their eyes locked on each other…so close that their noses almost brush, but Jon breaks it by lifting her again. Sansa lets out a delighted gasp, but she makes sure to keep her distance when her feet touch the floor this time, spinning out of his embrace. It is time for the first verse, and Sansa lets the words wash over her.
Thy beauty is beyond compare
With flaming locks of auburn hair
With ivory skin and eyes blue like the sea
“Did – did you ask them to change the words?” she hisses as he dips her.
Jon can’t control his grin, his gray eyes twinkling mischievously. “Perhaps.”
She wants to admonish him, perhaps swat him on the shoulder, but his humor is infectious, and she finds herself grinning as well.
They exchange no more words as their dance goes on, only secret, knowing glances. And when the song reaches its conclusion, their audience cheers enthusiastically (and quite a bit drunkenly).
Sansa loops her arm in Jon’s and together they meander towards the dais. “That was a lovely dance, Your Grace. You needn’t have worried about bruising my toes. You were as graceful here as you are in the training yard.”
They take their respective seats. Jon leans toward her, and says low enough not to be overheard, “Perhaps I just needed the right partner.”