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Darkness Follows	By : Nocturne Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 23341 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: All characters belong to George R. R. Martin. I do not own the Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire fandom, nor do I make any money from this fanfiction.

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The night was cold. The fire had burnt out long ago. There was nothing Sansa could do to stay heated but imagine a warm place and hope it would soothe her to sleep. She thought of the summer. She thought of a blazing wildfire. She thought of the Summer Isles. She thought of her mother’s embrace, and soon after she thought of Jon’s. He wasn’t much of a hugger, but when he did travel that extra mile it felt like nothing else. He had broad shoulders and strong arms. Sansa felt protected in his presence. He made her feel safe and at home.
But Joffrey’s incessant snoring drove her further and further into a state of complete alertness. There was no way she’d fall back asleep. Instead Sansa gathered the skirts to her frock and carefully lifted herself from bed. A few floorboards creaked beneath her, but the snoring drowned it out. Without a second’s wait, she slipped on her woolen cloak and proceeded out of the guest quarters.
There were several men of the Night’s Watch keeping lookout over Castle Black, but they were far on the other end of the structure. Sansa made as little noise as possible as she made her way to the dining hall. It was empty save for one familiar face.
“Ghost,” she whispered, getting down to her knees and patting the floor ahead as Jon’s dire wolf approached.
For a moment she hesitated, thinking the canine wouldn’t recognize her, but he did. Ghost gave her one lick on the face, tail wagging and tongue hanging out at the ready. She smiled, stroking Ghost’s back as he curled up on her lap. It had been a long, long time since she’d last seen this particular dire wolf. He was an albino, outcast and reclusive like his master. Sansa thought them to be a perfect match for one another.
She led him to one of the benches and together they sat, gazing through the window and out onto the horizon. They were facing away from the wall, which left nothing but endless, snow-covered land in sight. It reminded her of Winterfell. Then again, most things about the North did.
“My Lady…”
Sansa felt her body turn rigid. She reluctantly shifted her gaze to find the last person she expected to see that night.
“My Lady?” repeated the future Queen. “Why would you utter such a thing?”
Jon gave her a smile as he sat down beside her, giving Ghost a brief pet. “Is it not true?” he asked. “You’re betrothed to King Joffrey and I am nothing but a man of the Night’s Watch.”
“Since when have you viewed the Night’s Watch as inferior? I thought you idolized those men.”
“I did,” he said. “I do. I always will. I just…I know the politics of Westeros and I know my head could very well end up on a spike just for talking to you right now, right here.”
He was right. Joffrey would lose what little was left of his sanity if he were to walk in and catch them. “Why are you up so late?”
“Early,” corrected Jon. “I’m to keep watch over the wall in a few minutes. I figured I would grab a bite before I head up.”
Sansa straightened at the mention of it. “Do you think I can accompany you?”
“It’s too dangerous,” advised the young man. “And if you were to fall…I…I don’t know what I would –”
“ –Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Sansa fastened the tie to her cloak and stood from the bench. “I may be the future Queen of Westeros but I’m still a Stark,” she announced. “And what lies beyond the wall is the least of my worries.”
Jon scrunched his mouth to the side in thought. “Only for a short while,” he decided. “And if Joffrey catches us, you have to let me bludgeon his face in with the end of that ridiculous sword he carries.”
“You mean hearteater.”
Snow chuckled at the mention of it. “Yes. There’s the legendary Blackfyre, Heartsbane, Ice, Dawn and…hearteater.”
Sansa joined in on the amusement. “You forgot one.”
“Which?”
“Longclaw,” she clarified, referring to the Valyrian steel sword of House Mormont given to Jon by the Lord Commander himself.
He smiled, clasping the handle of his blade at the mention of it. “There’s also needle.”
“Needle?”
“The sword I gave Arya before leaving for Castle Black.”
Sansa arched an eyebrow. “You gave her a sword? Mother would be livid if she knew.”
“I know, but Arya was showing more potential than any of the young lads back in Winterfell. It’s a shame she’ll never have the chance to put her skill to use.”
“You know…” began the future Queen, glancing down for a moment. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to wield a sword,” she admitted, finding his eyes as the last words left her mouth. “In case Joffrey ever crosses the line again.”
This time Jon arched an eyebrow, but he didn’t look displeased or confused. Instead the young man withdrew his blade and handed it to Sansa. “Give her a swing.”
“Right here?” she asks.
“Hmm. Maybe we should head for the training ground.”
Sansa perked up. “I have a better idea.”
~
It was a wonder she hadn’t thought of it sooner, but suggesting the Wall for sword training was a brilliant idea, at least Sansa thought so. It gave her a chance to view what rested North of the giant structure and some quality time with Jon Snow. And she knew for a fact Joffrey wouldn’t have the bollocks to travel all the way up there, even in search for his future Queen. He was all bravado, no bravery.
“You’re terrible,” laughed Jon, positioning the blade properly while the handle rested in Sansa’s fragile grip. “Maybe we should leave the swords to Arya and focus on getting you some chunky rings for a nice backhand.”
Sansa frowned. “You’re so very encouraging.”
“Sorry,” he smiled. “Just remember to move quick and strike your opponent with the pointy end.”
“Thanks for the lesson,” she teased, handing him Longclaw before sitting on the snow-covered ground. Her eyes traveled into the distance. “Do you think he’s there?”
“Uncle Benjen?”
“No,” she said, feeling slightly guilty. “Father.”
Jon sat down beside her, draping his large cloak over their laps. “I’d imagine he’s wherever we are,” he said truthfully. “Watching over us and making sure we’re all right.”
“Are you all right?” asked Sansa.
“I’ve been better,” answered the young man. “But I’ve also been worse.”
“At least we have each other,” she said. “For a few more days.”
The Lord Steward nodded. “I’ve really missed you lot,” he began. “It’s been nice here, learning the trade and getting to know the lads…but home is home.”
“I suppose this is your home now,” Sansa said a quiet voice. “And King’s Landing is mine.” Just saying it brought tears to her eyes.
Jon flashed her a knowing look. “What did he do now?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” she shrugged, leaning back on both hands only to slip against the snow. To her astonishment, Jon caught her before she fell, wrapping a strong arm around her waist and positioning her upright. “Thank you.”
He chuckled. “Always so clumsy.”
“Shut up.”
Jon forged a look of guilt. “I beg your forgiveness, my Lady.”
The future Queen rolled her eyes. “You have to stop calling me that.”
“What am I to call you?” he asked. “First you denounce the title of my sister and now my Lady.”
“How about Sansa?” she suggested.
Jon smiled. “As you wish.”
She shared his smile, unbeknownst to the fact that his hand was still resting on her hip until then. Sansa cautiously placed her hand on his, feeling his fingers flex as their skin touched. They had held hands before, mostly when she was scared as a little girl, but never like this.
“The most dreadful part about this engagement with Joffrey is that I actually felt something for him at one point,” began Sansa, feeling her thoughts drift with the wind. “I was so foolish. Father had warned me to stay in Winterfell, away from the Lannisters.”
“It’s not your fault the king is a nightmare,” Jon assured her. “If not you, he would have been betrothed to another girl, a weaker girl.”
She faced him. “I thought I was clumsy.”
“You are,” he said with a nod. “But you’ve got a strong heart like your mother.”
This statement surprised Sansa. Catelyn, her mother, always treated Eddard’s bastard with disdain. But Jon was a good person. He knew this was more of a punishment towards the former Lord Stark than anything else.
“Just give me the word and I’ll have him fed to the Wildlings in no time,” offered Jon.
Sansa chuckled. “Nobody would ever suspect a thing.”
“Exactly,” he grinned.
The young woman laughed softly with her company, studying his facial features as they shifted from amused to serious in a matter of milliseconds. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nobody would ever suspect a thing,” repeated Jon, turning to her with a look as hard as Valyrian steel.
“You – You aren’t serious about feeding him to the Wildlings, are you?”
Jon swallowed. “Why not? Accidents aren’t uncommon here in Castle Black.”
“But it wouldn’t be an accident,” Sansa pointed out. “It would be murder.”
“The way I see it, it’s either him or you…and I’ll be damned if I let that yellow-haired mongrel lay another hand on you.” Snow took hold of her other hand with his, staring at her dead in the eye. “I know it sounds foolhardy but he isn’t just responsible for torturing an innocent girl.”
“He killed father,” she said breathlessly.
Jon nodded. “And right now he’s roaming free, unharmed.”
“What if we’re caught?”
“We won’t be,” he assured her. “You won’t be, anyway. I plan on doing this myself.”
“No,” she said defiantly. “I won’t let it happen unless I have a hand.”
Snow flashed her a look of warning. “It’s dangerous, Sansa. You don’t know what they would do to you if anyone found out.”
“I do know. It – It almost happened a few weeks ago,” she said hesitantly, referring to the night after her first cycle. The Queen had instructed Sansa to share a bed with her son, and although Sansa remained a virgin…Joffrey came frighteningly close to claiming what was officially his.
Jon tightened his grip on both her hands. “I’ll do it for you,” he said. “I’ll do it for us.”
Us. The words rung in her mind louder than anything else. It was the first time Jon had associated them as one entity. “I needed this,” she admitted. “I’m glad I came to Castle Black. Lord knows what madness would have befallen me had I stayed in King’s Landing any longer.”
“You can come visit anytime.”
“I suppose you can’t.”
Jon turned away when she spoke. “No. I’m to stay here with my brothers until my dying day.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” she said. “Robb would go mad if he had to live the rest of his life secluded in a gloomy castle, free of titles and…and…women.”
“I’m not Robb,” clarified the young man.
“Is it difficult?” asked Sansa. “Knowing you’ll never be with another woman, I mean.”
“I suppose it should be difficult,” started Jon. “But you don’t miss what you’ve never had.”
His words resonated with Sansa. She knew Robb and Theon had been with many women over the years, and since Jon was an acquaintance of theirs she assumed the same was true for him. But apparently she was wrong, and it ultimately made sense. His passion didn’t lie between a woman’s legs. His passion was his integrity as a man, a soldier, and a defender of Westeros. She found his duty admirable yet disappointing all the same.
He couldn’t touch a woman for the rest of his life and she was no exception.
“Do you wish you’d been with a woman before coming here?” she asked timidly. “Just to know what it’s like…to touch and be touched.”
Jon gave her a quizzical look. Lord knew they had never conversed about such matters in the past. “Sometimes,” admitted the young man.
“Me too.”
He faced Sansa, wearing an illegible expression. “That means Joffrey hasn’t…”
“No,” clarified the girl. “Not yet, anyway.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Is it?”
Jon nodded, as though it were obvious. “He’s unworthy.”
“Is Loras Tyrell?”
“Loras Tyrell prefers men.”
“Answer me.”
“Yes. He, too, is unworthy.”
“Garlan the Gallant?”
“Unworthy.”
“Beric Dondarrion?”
“Intensely unworthy.”
Sansa gave a slow nod, registering his responses. “So you think every man I’ve ever wanted is unworthy of my affection.”
“Yes,” Jon answered nonchalantly. “It’s expected.”
“And what of you?” she asked, fearing his reaction.
Snow stared at her blankly for a moment, the same way he had the previous night whilst they stood at the bottom of the Wall. “I…I don’t know what you’re asking of me –”
“ – You do,” she interjected. “That’s why you’re afraid.”
“Does…Does this have something to do with what you said before?” asked Jon. “About caring for me?”
Sansa nodded.
“Then I’m the most unworthy.”
The young woman shook her head. “Father always told me he would find me a strong, faithful, and caring husband.”
“And I’m sure he would have.”
“He did,” said Sansa. “The moment he brought you to Winterfell so many years ago.”
~
There was no way around it. There was no mistaking her words this time. Jon was stuck between a Wall and a hard place. On one hand he knew it was immensely wrong for him to even consider Sansa Stark as a prospective partner, seeing as he was a man of the Night’s Watch and that they were raised together, but on the other hand there had always been a small part of him that recognized her in a way he shouldn’t have. She was beautiful. She was kind. She was strong. And she was resting in his arms atop the tallest structure in all of Westeros.
“You do know I’m bound by oath, don’t you?”
Sansa gave him a reluctant nod. “I do, but I can also keep a secret.”
“What are you insinuating?”
“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.”
Jon breathed. “I can lose my head for even discussing this.”
“Lose one head…relieve another…”
“Sansa!” he said sharply.
The girl laughed. “I was only joking,” she assured him. “Partially.” Sansa tilted her head to the side and studied his expression the way she always did. “Come on, Snow. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it before.”
“Of course I have. Any bloke would.”
“Then you’ve already broken the rules,” she coaxed.
He hadn’t the slightest idea as to what she was up to, but it made him feel disgusting and intrigued all at the same time. “What do you want from me?” he asked.
Sansa paused for a moment before lifting one of his hands and running it along her cheek. Her skin felt soft against his, like silk to sandpaper. “There,” she said. “This isn’t so wrong, is it?”
Jon hadn’t an answer. All his attention was focused on the part of him connected to her. “I suppose not.”
She smiled, slowly dragging his hand from her cheek to her jaw line to the spot behind her ears and down her neck. It wasn’t until his hand reached her collarbone that Jon realized what was happening. His mind told him to yank his hand away and escort her back to the guest quarters, but he was frozen in the moment.
“You’re warm,” she said softly.
He swallowed. “So are you.”
Sansa may have been young, but she was still a woman and women knew exactly how to torture a man. “I actually feel quite cold.”
“Do you?”
The girl nodded, dragging his hand further until it reached the upper hem of her cloak. “Especially here,” she said.
Jon blinked hard, momentarily transfixed until reality came crashing down on him. “Not like this,” he said suddenly. “Not like this.”
“What do you mean?” asked Sansa, dropping her sensual tone as he pulled his hand from hers. “What’s wrong?”
The young man took a deep breath before opening his grey eyes, taking note of the confusion in hers. He placed both his hands on her cheeks, rubbing them gently with his thumbs. “If we’re going to do this,” he began. “We’ll do it right.”
Without waiting for a response, Jon closed his eyes and leaned toward Sansa. He had never done this before. He had seen it many times and he had heard countless stories from Robb and Theon and some of the other lads, but he had never experienced a moment of it for himself. All he could hope to do was follow his instincts and pray to the Gods that Sansa didn’t run away screaming.
A subtle breeze enveloped their bodies as their lips hovered millimeters apart. Jon was seconds away from breaking his oath to the Night’s Watch, seconds away from feeling a woman the way he had always imagined but never done, seconds away from causing the wall between them to crumble as they sat atop another.
“Is this wrong?”
Sansa’s eyes fluttered open as he spoke. “Yes,” she answered. “But I don’t care.”
He felt her cheeks grow warm against his touch. “Neither do I.”
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Darkness Follows