#jal80

Sansa could hear him pacing back and forth outside her chamber. Let him wait. The cold politeness that existed between her and the bastard prince had been over just some weeks ago, when he had taken over Arya’s side in a minor dispute between the sisters.

He had been nothing but civil to Sansa those months since he had come over to the North to stay sometime with his mother’s family but the two of them hadn't got close. Robb, Arya, Bran and even little Rickon all fawned over Jon, but Sansa didn't feel connected to him in any way. She expected an elegant southern prince, charming and bright, who would talk about his stories in the South and his calvary feats in the tourney lists. Maybe he would even know how to play the lute or the harp like his father the king and sing about love stories during feasts. Jon Targaryen proved to be disappointing in every expectation. He wasn't even a knight. He despised them, for what little she had heard him talking to Robb. She thought it was scandalous to have a son of a king who wasn't a knight. Did prince Aegon dislike knighthood as well? She thought it unlikely for all the charming things she had heard of the crown prince. It must have been a Jon’s thing and maybe that was why he and Arya seemed to get along so well.

The two of them even looked alike, but Sansa certainly wasn't expecting him to turn to her and say “You always act so bossy. You don’t need to act like that all the time, you know.” She had been furious. She excused herself so she would not offend the prince – not like he didn't deserve it, but it wasn’t proper for a lady to exchange harsh words with a member of the royal family, be it a bastard or not. Things only got worse between the two after her father announced that the king had decided Jon would marry inside the Stark family, and as she was the elder daughter she would be his betrothed. The weeks have passed between the two of them by rare cold exchanges, now that Sansa knew what Jon thought about her. She wasn’t sure what she had done to deserve such an opinion from him but right at that moment she decided she would not care for what was proper or not. And she would leave him waiting.

She opened the door to her chambers where Jon was waiting for her to come down to the feast together where their betrothal would be announced. He turned over to her, sighed and narrowed his eyes.

“Finally. I thought you would never be ready.”

That’s it. No compliments, no words to say if she looked pretty or to acknowledge the intense work she had put into her dressing to look the most beautiful she had ever looked just for this particular event. Typical, it was not like he knew how to appreciate pretty things anyway.

“It’s our betrothal feast, my lord. I thought you would know this kind of thing would happen. It’s very understanding that a bride should take her time to look her best.”

He grunted. “I think a bride should stop thinking about herself and instead think of the guests invited who are waiting for her to come down.”

She frowned. “The feast has just started. It’s not like the announcement is going to happen now. Surely you must know it.”

“Well, I’m not so sure as you are. How can you know your lord father isn’t going to do it now?”

She felt herself growing angry. “Because it’s the social custom. That’s how!”

His face got red. “There are real people down there. It’s not like your silly stories!”

“It’s not about my stories! I asked my mother. Maybe if you paid more attention to what she has to say about the wedding traditions you would remember it.”

He frowned. “What do you mean? I always pay attention to what Lady Stark says.”

She scorned. “I’m not so sure. I saw how you handled the hymns that we have to sing at the sept when we marry. You didn’t remember half of them and misheard the other half.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Only you pay attention to this kind of detail. I have more serious matters to concern myself with than songs.”

“Oh yes, I forgot. The singing of steel in steel at the training yard must be a much more serious and complicated matter, I’m sure.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“Surely I wouldn’t presume to do it, my lord. A girl would not presume to mock a prince, specially her husband to be.”

She left him there stupefied as he was and began descending the stairs. This marriage was going to be great, indeed.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“I’m going to the hall, as you so wanted me to.”

“We are supposed to do this together.” He offered her his arm, even as he looked anything but willing. They resumed descending the stairs in utter silence while she looked anywhere but his face. She heard him exhale and they stopped one floor before the hall.

“Look, Sansa, if we are to make this marriage work we’ll have to be more understanding with each other. You don’t like what I do and I don’t like what you do, fine. Let’s just restart.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, my lord. I don’t have anything but respect for what you do.”

He looked incredulous at her, raising one eyebrow. Was her lie really that obvious? She never thought she could be so easily caught. She felt herself blushing.

He chuckled. “You don’t need to lie to me, Sansa. But I must say you do turn a pretty shade of red when caught at the act.”

She felt helpless. “I wasn’t lying! Not really. I was being proper, you know.” She knew she was fidgeting her fingers, not knowing what to do with her hands.

“Oh yes, please be so. Go ahead if you want to but I know the truth. You are a poor liar, Lady Sansa.”

“What, me?”

She turned her gaze to look at his eyes and saw that he was smiling down at her. His smile was condescending, like he knew something that she did not. It only made her blush further.

He chuckled more. “I did not think it was possible for you to turn a darker shade of red. Pray continue and let’s go on to see how far red you can go.”

She got angry. “We shall not do such a thing! On my honor as a Stark, you shall stop mocking me, Jon Targaryen!”

He half-smiled at her quizzically. “I will stop it or what?”

“Or you will…you will…I will-I will tell you to…”

Disappear from my presence at this instant, she meant to say. She didn’t think he would grab both her wrists and pull her closer for a kiss.

Her cry of surprise was muffed by his mouth on hers. She hadn’t been kissed before and she didn’t know what to do, yet he clearly did. His lips on hers were…interesting to say at least. The stub of his recent shaved skin rasped over her chin and yet she didn’t mind it.

He let go of one of her wrists to cradle her head and get closer to her. When he sucked her bottom lip between his teeth and tongue she could not help but sigh into his mouth. That was when he probed his tongue on her mouth, seeking hers. His hand travelled upwards from her wrist to just below her elbow in one smooth move, sending chills upon the skin beneath her sleeve. He finished the kiss only after what felt like an eternity.

His lips left hers slowly and Sansa didn’t know exactly where she was anymore, what day it was or who she was. She felt so dizzy she had to seek his hand to steady herself. He had that smirk on his face again.

He touched her nose with the tip of his forefinger. “There. Now we have something in common to talk about.”

“We… we have…”

“Indeed. I always thought you tasted sweet.”

“You did?”

He grinned instead of answering. He pulled her after him.