Jon Snow & Sansa Stark - Game of Thrones Fanfiction

After the Battle

"Jon?"

He couldn't move. The adrenaline that had been rushing through his veins was gone now, just like the Night King and his army. The ice dragon he had been distracting so Arya could reach the Godswood and save them all had exploded right when he had feared that they had failed and lost. The deafening sounds of clattering swords and screaming soldiers that had kept him going had stilled and now there was nothing but silence.

"Jon..."

He was still breathing. He could feel his chest moving up and down and he felt the cold wind touching his bloodied and dirty skin.

Her arm slid around his waist and she breathed heavily when she tried to lift him up. "It's over, Jon." She whispered and he groaned when he tried to put some weight on his soar and tired legs. "We won." She used her shoulder to steady him and slowly she started walking.

He had no idea where they were going. He was too exhausted to focus on his surroundings and his mind was too tired to count the stairs they were climbing and the turns they were taking. He assumed she was bringing him to his chambers, but he wasn't entirely sure.

"Thank you." Even though she had just survived a nightmare her voice sounded confident and friendly when she spoke to the servant in the room. "I will take it from here. You deserve a good day of sleep after the night we've had." She placed him on a wooden chair and her soft and delicate fingers started to take his clothes off.

He wanted to protest, wanted to tell her that she didn't have to do this, that there were more important issues to take care of, but he couldn't. His tongue and lips refused to form words and his muscles refused to move. He couldn't keep her from taking off his coat and his armour. He couldn't keep her from taking off hiss boots and his pants. And he also couldn't keep her from taking off his breeches.

"It's okay." She wrapped an arm around his naked waist and helped him to get up from his chair. "I've got you." She lead him to a wooden bathtub and without really thinking about it he stepped in.

The water was pleasantly warm, just like the rest of the room, and he allowed himself to sink into it until it reached his chin. His skin started glowing due to the clash of the cold and the heat, but the tingle all over his body reminded him that he was still alive.

"Jon?" Sansa kneeled down next to the tub. Her usually neat hairdo was now a mess and she had stripped down to her underdress. Her blue eyes however were reflecting the glow of the burning fire in the hearth. "I will wash away the blood and dirt, okay?"

He wanted to shake his head. He wanted to nod. He wanted to tell her that he could wash himself, but he knew he couldn't. Instead he simply closed his eyes when she pressed the warm cloth to his cheek.

Her touch was soft and firm at once. First she washed his face. Then she cleaned his shoulders and chest. She moved on to his legs and feet and a soft chuckle escaped when she pressed the tip of the cloth between his toes.

He had never known a touch could be this pleasant.

"The Maester will have to check your wounds tomorrow. The cuts seem superficial." She washed his abdomen and then the cloth went between his thighs.

His entire body responded. He felt a shiver of the pleasant kind rolling down his spine, his heart beat faster and faster in his aching chest and in the back of his mind a little voice screamed for more. But he wasn't capable of more right now. He wasn't even capable of talking and telling her what he really wanted and longed for.

Too quickly his entire body was cleaned and the moment was over.

Once more she wrapped an arm around his waist and helped him to stand up. She didn't complain that he was soaking her dress. She didn't say that he was heavy. She helped him stepping out of the cooling water and once he was seated on his wooden chair again she reached for a towel. With the same care and precision as she had washed him she now dried every inch of his skin. Carefully she dabbed the parts that were bruised or wounded, but even if she would have accidentally hurt him he wouldn't have had the energy to moan.

He was Jon Snow. He had gathered the biggest army ever seen to fight the biggest war ever fought. But here he was, naked in front of a princess, a queen, unable to even mutter a simple thank you. No one should have seen him like this, but he was glad that at least it was Sansa. He wouldn't have wanted it to be anyone else.

The wooden floor cracked under her bare feet when she walked to the closet to get him some clean underwear. And once more she kneeled down in front of him, this time to help him put it on. And again her arm slid around his waist to help him up, this time to lead him to his comfortable bed.

His muscles relaxed when his back touched the soft mattress and he almost drifted away immediately when she draped the warm blanket over him.

"Sleep well, Jon." Her soft lips kissed his forehead. "You fought well today."

He mustered the last bit of energy and willpower he had left in him. His fingers curled around her wrist and he pulled her back when she was about to walk away. "Stay..." His voice was hoarse and barely a whisper, but Sansa stood still. Normally he would have added a please, but this time he couldn't.

She freed her wrist from his strong embrace, but then she took off her underdress and she lifted the blanket up again. When her body touched his he couldn't fight his fatigue any longer, but Sansa draped his arm around her shoulders and curled up against his naked chest.

A smile spread across his face while he fell asleep.