Work Text:
“I will kill you if you touch her!”
His roar echoes through the door to their solar and she is afraid for him…and for herself.
It was wrong to try and fool his father but Jon had said it would work. It had worked initially.
Three moons into their marriage with his father growing less and less tolerant of Jon’s refusals, her husband had decided upon this deceit.
The cut had been there from some misstep in the yard. He had dabbed the blood across their sheets, apologizing for the mess but promising it would give them more time. She had needed no apology. She’d felt wicked but also relieved. She had just turned five and ten at the time and, though she grew more comfortable with him each day and more curious each night, she did not wish to bear a child so young…like Jon’s mother, her poor aunt.
But nearly a year has passed now since they wed and Prince Jon’s wife still hasn't conceived. It would be hard to when she remains a maiden.
The king has grown suspicious. This morning, the grand maester had come to her chambers after she broke her fast saying he had been instructed to examine her. He’d brought three women with him…to hold her down.
However, before he could carry through with his plans, Jon had returned. Normally, he would be off practicing with his sword or riding as he does every day at this time when the weather is fair. No one else here but her beloved husband would have defended her, she knows.
Whether it was dumb luck that brought him back to their chambers unexpectedly or he'd caught wind of his father's orders, he’d been a terrifying sight to behold when he'd burst through the door with his sword drawn and murder in his eyes.
The maester was an old man and frightened into apologies by the fearsome young prince. He’d remained silent throughout the threats but another voice is heard now, one equally full of wrath like Jon’s…the king’s voice.
Sansa holds the doll Father gave her two years earlier close to her chest, the one she’d told him she was too old for at the time, and tries to stop her tears. She does not feel very grown up at present. She was wedded a year ago but she feels like a little girl, always hiding behind Jon and causing him all this trouble. He tells her not to worry.
She’s growing bolder in their bed as they kiss and touch and hold each other close at night. She wants him but Mother had said she was terribly young for bearing children and wished the king would’ve let them wait for her sixteenth name day at least.
She will be six and ten in two moons and thinks she will be ready.
Jon tells her he’ll wait for however long she says but she knows the king will not. He could annul their marriage if he learns of their deceit. It would break her heart. She will cast herself from the highest tower if she’s told she can no longer be Jon’s wife, if the king would send another woman to his bed or send her to another man’s.
Could he be so cruel? Why is there such a rush for her to bear a child when they are so young?
An heir, the king is desperate for his heir to have an heir of his own, the next Targaryen prince. And the North, the North does not care for King Rhaegar but if Lord Stark’s daughter gave birth to the future King of Westeros, Rhaegar hopes it will quiet their grumblings.
The king and his son’s shouts intermingle and become hard to distinguish. She frets and waits. She sighs with relief when only Jon enters and bars the door behind him. And then, she weeps anew for there are tears in his eyes.
“They will not touch you, I promise,” he swears. She knows he cannot be sure of that here.
“We can…I’m ready, Jon. You needn’t…”
He tips her chin up to wipe the tears from her cheeks and kisses her lightly. His kisses are so sweet and she loves them. She loves him.
“I hate him,” he whispers. “I hate him for forcing this upon you, upon us.”
“It’s treason to speak of the king that way.”
“It’s a sin to speak of my father that way. I do not care.”
But his eyes are filled with angry tears and her heart hurts for him. She knows he would kill for her, die for her. She knows he will protect her no matter what. She can protect him, too.
“He knows, doesn’t he? He knows the blood was not mine.”
“He knows.” She stands, preparing to cast aside her shift and make him bed her then and there. “No,” he shakes his head. “Your name day, he has relented until then.”
“Oh.” She is relieved but there’s a sudden explosion of butterflies in her stomach at knowing there is an end date to her maidenhood now. She thinks she’s ready. She loves him dearly no matter how their marriage came about.
“I asked that we be permitted to go to Dragonstone for that month. I said it would be easier for us both to have some privacy.”
“He will want proof after the lie. Jon, will he force us to have witnesses?”
“He would like that perhaps,” he says grimly, “but a bloody sheet is the most he'll get.” He holds her close then. “I'm sorry, Sansa. I’ll be gentle and…”
"I know you will, my love.”
She does not doubt his word, only the word of his father.
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