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It is during the night when they do it, when the moon is high in the sky, the nocturnal animals create a kind of mysterious and magical symphony, and the castle is, for the most part, asleep.
It started innocently enough, many moons ago now, when nightmares of smoke, fire, and blood still haunted Jon every night. She always knew it, perhaps because of her own experiences with night terrors, perhaps because she knows him better than anyone else, but every night she would come to his room to keep him company until he fell asleep again to the soft sound of her voice.
Until one night, when, with a mischievous smile Jon hadn't seen in years, she took him by the hand and dragged him silently through the castle, hiding from guards and intruding eyes, and led him to the hot springs. Once away from the world, she stripped down to her shift and urged him to do the same. He had been so confused at the time, but he trusted her, had learned to do it the hard way, and followed her lead, without a word. Then she had jumped into the water, disappearing beneath the surface, and once he followed her action, she resurfaced, splashing him with warm water and drawing the first laugh in moons from his lips.
They had played like children then, chasing each other through the trees, throwing water in each other's faces and just swimming in a comfortable silence. When they returned to the fortress later, and each to their quarters, Jon fell asleep with a smile on his lips. The nightmares did not come that night. Instead, he dreamed of a happier time, when children's laughter filled the halls of Winterfell, oblivious to any danger and lost in an innocent joy.
It is not as innocent now, Jon thinks, as he sees Sansa's red hair slightly darkened, her pale skin licked by water droplets, the slope of her neck and the curve of her cleavage peeking above the surface. They no longer bother to occupy clothing when they are here.
During the day, she is the Queen in the North, and he is her closest advisor, her family. During the day they are plagued with duties, trying to rebuild what wars and death fractured, waiting anxiously for Spring.
Yet no one knows what they do at night.
Sansa looks at him, with those deep blue eyes that burrowed so deep into his soul, and he feels his heart stop for a second. He's known it for a while now, but every time they're together, he reaffirms it. He loves her, loves her as he has never loved anyone, as he never expects to love anyone else, and the thought of it is enough to make his chest flood with warmth. She comes to him then, a smile playing on her lips and a blush creeping up her cheeks. He doesn't know if it's because of the warm water, or because of what he provokes in her. Does she love him too? Does her heart stop the same way his does? These are questions he doesn't know the answer to, but even if he were only a comfort to her, he would be happy.
When she stands in front of him, she speaks at last. "You're quieter than usual tonight," she says with a frown, but with a smile plastered on her face, a smile he's dying to kiss.
"It's your fault," he says, instead. "You look so beautiful; I'm running out of words." It feels strange to say such things aloud. He was never good with words, least of all those meant to stroke a woman's ego, but he doesn't mind telling Sansa, because it's the truth. He minds less when the blush on her face deepens and her eyes light up at the compliment. He loves her always, when she is tired from the task of ruling, when she is sewing by the fire or singing as she brushes her hair, when she is sick or when her blood is buzzing with anger, but it is in these moments that he loves her most, when she is free, naked, and beautiful, oblivious to duty and all to himself. He takes her by the waist then, pulling her close to his body, and kisses her on the lips, just a brush, to wait for her response. She pulls back and her lips twitch into a shy smile before she brings her lips to his again and urges him to open his mouth.
He cups her cheek gently with one hand, while the other tightens his grip on her waist, and deepens the kiss. He loves the sounds she makes when they are like this, the broken sighs, and needy moans, and he feels he can't get enough. He grabs her waist with both hands, and helps her up onto his lap, as the water splashes over their bodies.
He waits patiently until she is ready, until she looks up at him with desire-filled eyes and her head shakes in the faintest of nods, and only then does he begin to explore her body in earnest, to run his fingers, his lips, and to love her as she deserves, as he knows she always deserved.
Only when their bodies are sated on the ground beside the pool, their limbs entangled and her head resting on his chest, listening to how his once-dead heart beats for her, she says it, in a low murmur.
"We could stay here forever. If it were up to me, we'd never leave this place. Not ever."
She lifts her head to look at him, but he has his gaze glued on the stars above him, her words awakening a heavy, uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Ygritte said something like this, once, her love so pure and strong for him, unaware of the traitor that lived inside him. It had been easier to kiss her then, hiding his lies with the primal desire he felt for her. Daenerys had also said something like this, and that had been even harder. It had reminded him of who he really was, how he was capable of using a woman's love to his advantage. Thinking about that still fills him with anguish. He doesn't like to remember those times, when every word had to be weighed and spoken carefully, when he had become his own enemy.
With Sansa it is not the same, he knows it. She is a light in his life, warm and bright, but her words sit heavy in his mind, nonetheless, making him aware of how fragile everything around him is, how everything could change overnight. They feel like a kind of threat disguised as hope.
He feels her gaze fixed on him, and knows she is worried about his sudden change in mood. He only hugs her tighter, fearing that if he doesn’t, she might pull away. But Sansa wouldn't. Instead, she speaks again, trying to lighten the mood. "Can you imagine? We could live here during the night, be nocturnal animals like wolves. And during the days, we'd hide in the middle of the bushes and trees while people look for us," she says, her smile shining on the periphery of his eyes.
He looks at her, just because he loves to see her smile, and that's when he realizes that what he has with her is unlike anything he's ever known before, that this is pure, true and theirs. He decides that the sins and mistakes of his past need not taint either his present or his future, nor interfere with the dreams and happiness of the woman he loves. He smiles back at her, because, in fact, he likes her idea, and, for the first time, allows himself to show her in words the joy that floods his heart every time he is by her side.
"I would love that," he says, as sincerely as he can.
She smiles more broadly at him, and reaches up to kiss him once more, but he stops her, placing a hand on her jaw. She frowns teasingly, waiting for the kiss he denied her, but he has other plans. He doesn't know if it's her eyes brimming with honest happiness, how good her warm body feels next to his, the way his heart pounds as he looks at her, or the expression of her desire to stay with him forever and his own desire to prove that what they have is different than his turbulent past, but he adds in a calm and serious voice.
"However...," he says, and sees how she is seriously worried now. "We could spend the rest of our lives together, either here, in a bed, or wherever you want, if you were to marry me - how about that?"
He watches her eyes widen in surprise and her mouth forming a perfect "o," and anxiety rises in the back of his mind. But he forces himself to remain calm as he waits for her answer, and a sort of peace washes over him knowing this is the first time he gets to choose his own path. She bursts into a smile then, and pounces on him, kissing him passionately. If that wasn't enough of an answer, she begins to repeat "yes" over and over against his skin, and he feels her tears wetting his face. He takes her face in his hands and caresses her cheek with his thumb.
"I love you," he says to her for the first time, with such intensity that it startles him himself. She only chuckles through her tears and kisses him again.
He once believed that gods did not exist, but he knows now that only something divine could deliver as much happiness as he feels now. That's the only thing he can think as he loves her once again, with the night breeze as company and the stars as witnesses of their shared promise of love.