Rivers of Fire and Blood

Jon VI

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Ice and Fire Novels, Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon TV shows. However, I decided to have a little play around with the characters. I do not earn any money from writing these stories, it is for my entertainment and is something I like to share.

Jon sat up and opened the curtains. He felt movement on the bed and turned his head to look at Sansa. She was curled up in a ball and although she was trying to hide it, he knew she was crying. Guilt washed all over him. He should have suggested they pretend. Maybe if he'd been firmer with the septon he could have had the witnesses outside and relieved himself on the bed with the curtains closed while Sansa was waiting behind the screen or by the fire. It would have been embarrassing, but at least she wouldn't have had to endure having a man touch her. The fact he'd taken pleasure from the act made him even more disgusted with himself. The anger he felt was comparable to what he felt when he finally got his hands on the bastard, who he almost beat to death if it hadn't been for Sansa stopping him. This time he had to gather himself and at least try to be as polite as possible, although he was going to struggle, especially if this entire incident was caused by Tyrion Lannister.

Jon ushered the four men over and showed them the wet mark on the bed where he had spilled his seed only a few minutes earlier. The septon, Maester Wolkan and Tyrion all checked the mark while Jon stared at Tormund who simply glanced over at Tyrion and nodded his head. Jon knew Tormund had witnessed enough to suspect Tyrion was the one who had instigated the bedding, not the septon. Jon was even more incensed than before.

"There's your proof. I hope your happy. Now fuck off and leave me and my wife alone with some actual privacy. It's been a long day." he shouted as they filed out of the door, with just a brief nod and he just about managed a smile of appreciation towards Tormund.

They all bid him goodnight and left the room. Jon slammed the door behind them and bolted it shut. He turned to talk to Sansa but she quickly got out of the bed through the opposite side and fled over to the changing screen, clearly trying to hide the tears.

"I just need to wash myself." she said, although he suspected it was an excuse.

Jon climbed back into bed and pulled the sheets over him, waiting for her to return. The woman who came back was the one he recognised to be Queen Sansa, the one who hid her emotions behind duty and putting others first. His heart sank. Arya killed and stole faces to use as masks, Sansa wore her queenly face as a mask and was just as deceptive. But regardless, they needed to talk about it. If they didn't it would be hard for them to work together and he knew over the next few days and possibly weeks, they were going to be a strong team, they had no choice in the matter. Talking was going to be hard, especially for Jon who wasn't the greatest of orators, but not talking would be even harder. Sansa climbed back into bed and turned her back to him, the queenly demeanour gone and the little girl he once knew was back.

"Sansa." Jon said in the softest voice he could. "We need to talk about this."

"No we don't." Sansa swallowed, he could tell she was struggling to hold back the tears.

"Did I hurt you? I tried my best not to." Jon was desperate at this point, he needed to know she didn't hate him.

"You didn't hurt me." Sansa told him.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me that." Jon begged. "I need to know it's true. I can't live with myself if..." Sansa turned to face him, her eyes red rimmed. "I'm sorry. I should have stopped it. There were ways..." he shook his head in dismay.

"Shh." Sansa shook her head and smiled. "You didn't hurt me. It was nice."

Jon frowned. "So why are you crying?" he asked confused. He had come to realise he would never fully understand women, and right now he was baffled by her reaction.