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Love and Comfort	By : White Glove Literature Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 38888 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones, nor do I make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 7
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- 9
How? How could this have happened? It was like something out of a nightmare. I mean you hear about it happening all the time on the news, but you never think it could happen to you. They sat together, huddled in the parlor crying. Jon had broken the news to them all as gently as he could, but the pain didn’t lessen. He felt his own chest constricting, making it hard to breathe. He struggled to fight back tears of his own, trying to be strong for them but all he could think about was that he would never hear their voices again. Never get to talk to his father or spar with Robb in the training yard. Lady Stark was never kind to him, but he mourned them all, even her, all the same.
Beside him to his left sat Sansa, eyes wet with tears, cuddling Rickon and trying to comfort him. “Where is mama?” He asked, not understanding the concept of death. He kept asking when she would be home, and it broke Jon’s heart.
“They’re gone, he thought, all gone.” To his right were Arya and Bran. They weren’t doing much better, though they understood the situation better. Their Uncle Benjen had called to plan for their parent’s remains to be brought over and buried in the family crypts. He too looked heartbroken and though he was more reserved with his emotions, it showed in his eyes.
They sat huddled together for hours, lost in their grief, not knowing where to go from here. What would they do? Who would look after them all? Jon knew he would have to be strong for them all, but he wasn’t sure what to do. He cuddled Arya against his chest and wrapped an arm around Bran’s shoulders, his free hand reaching out for Sansa. They were orphans now. It was his duty as the eldest to look after his siblings. Uncle Benjen returned and motioned for Jon to come to speak with him. Jon let go of Arya and stood, walking across the room to the hall to speak with his Uncle.
“I’ve made all the arrangements to have their remains sent home and we’ll have a small funeral with just family and friends before settling them into the crypts.” He said. Jon nodded, his hands twitching at his sides, not sure what to say or do. “How are you holding up, Jon?” he asked, placing a hand on Jon’s shoulder.
“Not well, but I’ll manage, Uncle,” Jon replied.
Benjen nodded and softly shook his head. “It’s hard I know. Losing family is never easy. Believe me. I’ve been through this before, several times. But we have each other.”
Jon nodded, unsure what else to do. Benjen stepped past him, going into the parlor to gather up Rickon. It was late, and he needed to sleep. Arya and Bran sat huddled together, silent tears running down their faces while Sansa stepped up and walked over to Jon as he entered, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her head resting on his strong chest.
Sansa sniffled, nuzzling against his chest, Jon rubbing soothing circles across her back and shoulders. “What will we do now, Jon?” she asked, hugging him tight.
Jon cradled her in his arms as he cupped her chin, tilting her head up to consider her eyes. “It’ll be alright, sweetheart. Trust in me. I’ll look after our family from now on. Everything will be okay. I promise.” he said, leaning in and softly kissing her lips, her blue eyes drifting closed as she kissed him back.
He pulled back, reaching up to caress her cheek, his thumb tracing her soft pink lips. Arya watching them, and not wanting to be left out, stood and ran to Jon, wrapping her arms around him. He knelt, kissing her lips, his arms wrapping around her as he pulled her close. “Everything will be okay, I promise.” Bran watched them, somehow unsurprised as he stood, walking past them to find Benjen and Rickon.
Jon took their hands and lead them upstairs, towards their father’s solar, now his as the eldest boy, and led them inside, closing the door behind them he led them over to the sofa and settled down, cuddling them against him, his lips brushing their foreheads. “I’ll become the next Lord Stark,” he said looking at his girls. “Uncle Benjen has agreed to look after the family business until I’m old enough to take over. We’ll lay, Father, Robb and your mother to rest in the family crypts and have a small funeral with just family and close friends.” Jon looked at them both, finally allowing his tears to fall, now that they were alone. He didn’t have to hide the pain he felt from his mates. They turned, hugging him, trying to soothe him as he had soothed them earlier. They sat there for a while, holding each other before heading to bed. Jon climbed into his bed, Arya and Sansa climbing in on either side, nuzzling up against his chest as they drifted off to slumber, too exhausted to think clearly.
Jon woke up late the next morning with Arya and Sansa cuddled up against him, fast asleep with their heads resting on his chest. He smiled sadly, his arms around their shoulders as he watched them sleep, free of worries, if only for a while. Sansa woke up first, her eyes blinking sleepily as she slowly came too before jumping up and running to the bathroom, her upset stomach getting the best of her. Jon gently extracted himself from Arya, careful not to wake her and went to Sansa, kneeling beside her, his right hand on her shoulder while he rubbed her back with the left. She was bent over the toilet vomiting, her hair tucked haphazardly behind her ears. When her stomach finally settled Jon held her, hugging her against his chest.
Sansa stood, heading over to brush her teeth and rinse out her mouth while Jon stood beside her, worrying his lower lip. Finishing, Sansa turned and kissed his cheek, her hands resting against his arms before she left for her own chambers, to shower and dress. Arya began to stir on the bed, getting up and looking around, she saw Sansa leave and climbed out of bed, looking for Jon. She heard the shower start in his private bathroom and slid her nightdress off, walking to the bathroom and stepping into the walk-in shower beside him.
Stepping behind him, she wrapped her arms around him, giggling softly as he jumped, surprised and turned to face her. He smiled, kneeling and wrapped his arms around her, his lips finding hers, kissing her deeply. He sat back on the shower bench and lifted her into his lap, his hands grasping her slender hips, pulling her tight against him, his member grinding against her core as his tongue probed her mouth. He pulled back reaching for a cloth and lathered it with soap before running it gently across her back and shoulders. As his hand ran down, lathering her short legs and feet, Arya nuzzled her face against his chest, a sigh of content escaping her lips.
Jon stood her up gently scrubbing her front, moving the cloth over her chest and down her stomach, washing and scrubbing her hips before running a soapy hand over her core, teasing the soft lower lips open, his soapy fingers finding her clit, making her moan, her knees going wobbly, he held her up as his fingers dipped inside her sheath, thrusting gently in and out as she ground her hips against his hand. Pulling his hand away he handed her the cloth, letting her finish before rinsing her off under the spray of the showerhead as he began lathering his own body with soap.
A short time later, the pair stepped out of the shower, flushed and happy, and dried themselves off, before Arya, wrapped in a towel, headed to her room to dress, leaving Jon to do the same. Jon dressed in a black woolen tunic bearing the Stark crest and a pair of jeans and black leather boots before heading downstairs to the dining hall, where the rest of the family sat, breaking their fasts and took the chair at the head of the table. He fixed himself a plate as they sat, looking around at them all.
“Too many empty chairs,” He thought to himself, feeling his heartthrob painfully in his chest. Tearing his eyes away he focused on his plate, looking up only when he had finished. Jon stood, heading to the courtyard to spar with the Master at Arms, hoping to distract himself from his troubles. He sparred for hours until finally, exhausted and unable to go on, he headed inside for lunch. As he changed out of his clothes, he walked over to his wardrobe changing into a clean tunic and pair of trousers. Finished, he left his room and headed over to the parlor. Ducking his head inside, he found Sansa and Arya sewing with the other girls. He stood watching them, a smile forming on his face. His beautiful mates. They were the one bright spot in his world.
Days past in this manner. They seemed to pass by before his eyes. Jon was in his late father’s solar going over household accounts. His Uncle Benjen would be managing the family’s businesses until he came of age. The remains of his father, brother and stepmother had arrived and the funeral would be held tomorrow. There was a knock at the door and Jon looked up. Sansa stepped into the solar and closed the door behind her, dressed in a gown of blue cream-colored silk. She was beautiful. He stood and walked over, taking her in his arms, kissing her deeply. He had not been alone with her in a while and he missed her touch.
They sat in an armchair by the fire, Sansa settled in Jon’s lap, his hands wandering beneath her skirts as they kissed. His hands caressed her thighs, teasing slowly upward as she parted her legs giving him better access as his fingers traced her slit through the crotch of her panties before he pulled them away. He unlaced the front of her dress, baring her breasts to his gaze, he leaned down, suckling her nipples, teasing the hardened nubs with his tongue while her hands settled on his head, holding him against her chest as she moaned his name, the wetness and heat building between her legs. She needed him. Needed to feel him inside her, thrusting, filling that aching void that tormented her so…
Jon pushed her skirts up around her waist, tugging her panties down and off before dropping them to the floor as he turned her in his lap, his hands moving to unlace his breeches, his stiff member escaping the confines, standing angry and erect. He placed his hands on her hips and lifted her up as she settled on her knees, lowering herself down on him, sighing in pleasure as she took him inside her. She rocked her hips, driving him wild, his hands gripping her hips as she moved up and down on him, his member thrusting deeply as her hands found her breasts, squeezing the firm mounds and pinching her nipples, which of late had become so sensitive.
His left hand moved between them finding the swollen nub at the top of her slit rubbing it between his fingers, making her cry out, his free hand playing with her rear, smacking and squeezing the firm cheeks. She was having trouble thinking, the pleasure overwhelming her as she rode him fast and hard, her inner walls squeezing down on him, milking him, making him gasp as he leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss, his right hand moving up, tugging gently but firmly on her auburn hair, tilting her head back to expose her soft neck, his lips trailing kisses along the pale skin, his hips thrusting up in time to meet her as they both neared their peak, the sounds of their lovemaking filling the room as they both tensed, their orgasms washing over them, driving them both to climax together. Sansa collapsed in his arms, her breath hot and heavy against Jon’s chest as his member tensed inside her, flooding her womb with his seed.
They sat like that awhile, Sansa resting peacefully in Jon’s arms, his arms around her middle, cradling her tight against him. They looked up as a knock on the door sounded and Arya burst in, clutching a pair of fencing blades. “Jon will you come spar with me?” she asked, before stopping as she saw them together. She turned and shut the door behind her before walking over to the pair of them, a determined yet nervous look in her eyes…
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Love and Comfort