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Faith - northernlass49

Chapter 63

She crept into the room, carefully trying not to bump into any furniture as her only source of light was a single candle that sputtered and threatened to snuff itself out.

She set the candle down on the table beside the bed, illuminating his face. His arm was tucked underneath his pillow and his lips were parted slightly in deep slumber. He looked so peaceful that she almost regretting intruding on his rest.

She tossed her hair to one side as she pulled off her robe and kicked off her slippers. The floor was icy beneath her feet and she shivered slightly as she crawled underneath the furs. Then she leaned over to blow out the candle before sliding down and nestling closer to him for warmth.

She felt him stir as he sensed her presence. Then she heard him draw a slow breath before he spoke.

“Sansa?” he asked hoarsely as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “What’s wrong? Why are you here?”

“Hush”, she replied wrapping an arm around him, “everything is fine. I simply felt like coming to join you rather than returning to my own bed”.

She felt his fingers entwined in her hair as she hugged him closer.

“Edwyn?” he asked.

She nodded silently against his chest. She felt it rise and fall as he let out a sigh.

“You know…we do have a wet nurse who could be looking after the night feeds. And I am willing to engage another, if necessary, so you can get your rest”, he said.

She buried her face in his chest, feeling the steadiness of his heart beat.

“I know”, she replied, her voice muffled. “But he needs me…his mother. Once he catches up with Alysane he’ll no longer need the extra feed”.

“Don’t run yourself ragged”, he cautioned. “You’re still recovering from the nightmare of birthing them”.

She lifted her head and smiled. Her eyes had adjusted to gloom, the room illuminated only by the moonlight that penetrated the cracks in the shutters.

“Sam has confirmed that I am now fully healed. What’s more he says we can now resume what he calls… relations”, she said as she slipped a hand under his shirt and waggled her eyebrows.

“Mmmmm…that is good news”, murmured Jon as her hand slid lower. Then she heard him moan as her fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt and found him already erect.

She rose up on her knees and pulled her nightrail over her head while Jon eagerly removed his shirt. Then she mounted him, straddling his waist and leaning down to pepper his neck and shoulders with nips and kisses. He reached between her parted thighs and slid a finger along her lower lips until it found its mark.

Sansa shuddered and whimpered as Jon circled the tiny nub with just enough pressure. She rocked her hips back and forth as she felt her peak drawing closer under Jon’s skilful fingers. And, with a strangled cry, she climaxed and fell forward to rest heaving on his chest.

She felt his hands leave her hips and turned around to find him grasping his cock, sliding his fingers up and down to find relief. She reached out to still his hands.

“You’ll spill inside of me…queen’s orders”, she commanded.

Even in the dark she could just make out the concern on his face. And when he spoke she could hear the tinge of fear in his voice.

“Sansa”, he pleaded, “It’s too risky”.

“Life is full of risks, Jon. It shouldn’t stop us from experiencing pleasure”, she said as she rose up to grasp his cock and guide it into her. But when he didn’t resist she knew that it just felt too good to be inside her again. She felt his hips rise up to meet hers as they moved together in a rollicking rhythm. And then, with one final thrust, he drove himself up and collapsed with a groan.

She slid off him and burrowed beneath the furs. She drew a finger across the width of his mouth and felt his broad smile.

“I’ve missed you”, she whispered, “and I know you’ve missed me”.

He confirmed this with a swift kiss to the top of her head before pulling her closer.

A discreet rap on the door startled them both awake. Through bleary eyes Sansa could see that sunlight had replaced the moonlight and there were sounds of activity outside the stone walls.

“Jon…Sansa”, said a hesitant voice from the other side of the door. It was Sam.

“The master steward came by earlier but he didn’t knock because he heard…now how did he put it…oh yes…amorous noises coming from within”, he continued.

Jon and Sansa looked at each and then moved quickly to throw on their nightclothes. Then Jon crossed the floor and wrenched open the heavy door.

Sam glanced quickly from one to the other and his face fell.

“Oh dear”, he said. “The…the guests are beginning to assemble in the godswood for the coronation and the nursery is in chaos. The wet nurse is wondering which twin to feed first as they are both crying for their milk. And Torrhen is sulking over a toy that he alleges Lyra broke while she is refusing to wear the dress you chose for her”.

Jon turned around to grab a pair of breeches from the back of a chair while Sansa knotted the sash of her robe.

“Tell the cook to offer our guests food and drink in the great hall because the ceremony will be delayed by an hour. If they ask why it’s because the king and queen have some urgent domestic matters they need to attend to,” she said briskly before gently shooing him away.

He gave them each one last look concern and turned away shaking his head ruefully.

“Right”, said Jon as he fastened his breeches and tucked in his shirt. “I’ll look after Torrhen and Lyra while you feed one of the twins”.

“Jon”, she said as she grabbed his arm, “tell her there is no compromising on the dress. She’s very hard on her clothes and I’ll wager she has nothing else decent to wear”.

He leaned over and pecked her on the cheek.

“It won’t matter because all eyes will be on her beautiful mother”, he said as he offered her his arm. She smiled at him with uncertainty as she tucked her arm into his and then tried to look dignified as they left to deal with their recalcitrant children.

Later, as they stood in the shade of the pale weirwood tree, its brilliant crimson leaves rustling in the breeze, Sansa gazed around her in awe at the sea of familiar and not so familiar faces before them.

How in seven hells did it come to this, she wondered?

She turned to Jon who stood stiffly by her side. He caught her looking at him and reached out to give her hand a small squeeze.

This wasn’t the day she initially planned. She had envisioned a long, relaxing soak in a warm tub infused with sweet smelling herbs followed by a gaggle of young women helping her to don her garments and fussing over her long hair, twisting it into a complicated arrangement that would be the envy of any southern lady. Instead, she had to make due with a lick and a promise and her hair was bound in a single braid that lay against her shoulder, adorned with daisies that Lyra had picked and tucked into the weave.

Jon looked handsome except for the curls that threatened to engulf his face as they tossed around in the breeze. There was no time for a trim as he was busy brokering a truce between his two eldest children and persuading his older daughter that the ensemble she had chosen was completely unsuitable for such a special day. The battle was hard fought but Jon won in the end. Fortunately, Lyra did not appear to harbour any resentment and now sat placidly at her mother’s feet, poking daisies into her own unbound hair and staring with dismay as they fell to the ground.

Torrhen stood solemnly by his father’s side, his own red curls ruffling in the breeze, mimicking his father’s stance and demeanor completely.

Little man, thought Sansa proudly, it won’t be long before you’ll be joining your father in learning to rule a kingdom so huge and varied that it almost defied description. It was a world that ranged from the bustling and cosmopolitan city of White Harbor in the west to the remote and scattered homes of the mountain clans in the east; and from the craggy villages and strongholds of the Free Folk in the north to the vast, steamy swamp of the crannogmen in the south. And dead centre stood Winterfell, now the seat of all northern power.

As crown prince, he will learn at his father’s knee how to govern a people who have no time for hollow courtesies and courtly rituals. Winter is always coming and they must be prepared. Northerners were blunt spoken, pragmatic and gifted with memories of slights felt generations before so he will have his work cut out for him. But, between them, Sansa was confident that she and Jon could ensure that the rule of the Starks would endure for centuries to come.

Or were they all Targaryens now? Or maybe…Stargaryens?

She tittered out loud at the last thought. Jon leaned over and whispered out of the side of his mouth.

“What’s so funny?” he asked as Torrhen glanced up at them both.

“Later”, she whispered back as Sam began to clear his throat as a signal for the ceremony to commence.

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