Fic: The Sweetest Surrender of Winter (Jon/Sansa/Val), PG-13
Title: The Sweetest Surrender of Winter
Pairing: Jon/Sansa/Val (The Threesome in the Nooooooorth!)
Rating: PG-13, I suppose as there are some Sexy Bits at the end. But pretty mild.
Notes: A future outtake from The Threesome in the North/Totally Shameless Baby Fic.
Jon Snow is a leader of men. He is Lord of Winterfell, and there are those who still call him "The Prince Who Was Promised." He has battled the Others, survived The Second Long Night, been killed and reborn. In short, he is not a man easily cowed.
Or at least he did not think himself such.
Still, looking into the two faces before him, he has to work very hard to keep his voice stern, his manner firm. "Girls, is what your mother tells me true?"
Lya glances at Ygrainne, as always looking to her sister- elder by nine days- for guidance. He sees the stubborn set of Ygrainne's chin, and knows that she is considering lying to him. Jon also knows that he should be dismayed by such an impulse, and that he should not wish to run a hand over her golden head. And yet his hand itches to do just that, much in the same way he wants to wrap Lya in a hug and reassure her that Papa is not cross.
But he makes himself stand still, leaning against his desk, both arms folded over his chest. "Girls?" he prompts again.
Lya breaks first, as he had known she would. "We didn't mean to upset Septa Linae so much, Papa," she says quickly, blue eyes wide. "It was simply meant to be a...a joke."
Ygrainne snorts at that, crossing her arms and unconsciously mimicking Jon's posture. "It was not. It was revenge."
Jon is quick to cover his startled laugh with a cough. "Revenge?" he repeats, and Ygrainne nods fiercely, her tiny face near an exact replica of her mother's.
"The septa was cruel about Ygrainne's embroidery yesterday," Lya offers sadly, reaching out to stroke her sister's arm. "She said it was 'shoddy' and she took out every one of Ygrainne's stitches, Papa. Every one! And said she must start all over again, and Ygainne had already worked ever so hard, and you know she hates embroidery and,-"
By now, Lya has nearly brought herself to tears, and Jon can no longer resist kneeling down and tugging her to his side. "There, there, pet," he tells her, pressing a kiss to the top of her black curls. But for his hair and mouth, Lya is Sansa made over again, all blue eyes and sweet voice and soft heart.
He looks over at Ygrainne who is still scowling, arms folded tight around her body, and offers a hand to her. She hesitates a moment before taking it and letting his tug her to his other side. Both arms wrapped around his daughters, Jon says, "I am very sorry that happened, Ygrainne. And perhaps I will have a talk with Septa Linae about finding a more...fitting activity for you than embroidery."
Ygrainne's entire face lights up at that, and she throws her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight. "Oh, thank you, Papa!"
At his other side, Lya makes a happy noise and wraps her own arms about him, covering his face with kisses, and Jon chuckles, holding them both tighter. He loves all seven of his children to distraction, but these two- the youngest and the most like their respective mothers- have a claim on his heart he never could have imagined.
Still, he makes himself set both of them at arm's length, and looks seriously into each of their small faces. "However. You know Mother expects you to listen to your septa, and she is quite disappointed in your behavior. As am I."
Lya drops her eyes, tugging her lower lip between her teeth, and even Ygrainne looks a bit abashed.
"If you have a problem with Septa Linae, you should tell me. Or Mother, or Val. That is how proper young ladies handle conflicts. They do not put snakes in their septa's bed."
"It was just one snake," Ygrainne mutters, but a look from Jon quells even that brief bit of rebelliousness.
"You are to apologize, both to Septa Linae and to Mother. And I believe that the two of you shall prove your remorse to Septa Linae by taking up cleaning duties in her chambers for the foreseeable future."
"Yes, Papa," Lya says meekly. Ygrainne scowls for a moment before asking, "And you promise I don't have to do embroidery anymore?"
Jon nods, even as he worries slightly at how Sansa may take that news.
Ygrainne finally sighs. "Alright. But I am not emptying her chamber pot."
Lya giggles at that, and Jon cuffs Ygrainne affectionately on the ear. "Out, you little heathens. And go find Mother."
Lya heads for the door, but Ygrainne lingers. "Do I need to apologize to my mother?"
All of their children, even the ones born to Val, have always simply referred to Sansa as "Mother," and called Val by her given name. Only Ygrainne calls both women her mother, and it never fails to make Jon smile.
"You can," he tells her, she grins, a dimple flashing in one cheek.
"She'll tell me that embroidery is bloody stupid, anyway."
This time, Jon does not try to hide his laugh. "She probably will. Now go on, love. And-," he points at her, "no more snakes. Or corrupting your sister."
Ygrainne laughs at that, dashing for the door. "It was Lya's idea!" she calls, and he can hear both girls giggling as they rush down the hall. Shaking his head, Jon closes the door to his study. Seven bloody hells, they're only eight now. What will they be like at eighteen?
He only just keeps from shuddering at the thought.
Later that night in their chambers, Sansa sits by the fire, working on embroidery of her own. "I'm not sure what you said to Lya and Ygrainne, but they were very contrite this afternoon." She lifts her head, giving him a soft smile. "Thank you."
Jon leans over to kiss the spot just beneath her ear, loving the tiny shiver that still runs through her, even after all these years. "I don't know why you wanted me to speak with them," he tells her, sweeping the fall of hair off her shoulder to expose more of her lovely neck. "Everyone knows you're the strict one."
She sighs, letting her sewing fall to her lap as he kisses her throat. "You're their father," she reminds him, hand coming up to lay against the back of his head. "It's important that they receive censure from you."
"How very traditional of you," Jon murmurs against her skin, and she chuckles slightly as she tips her head back.
"I am still very traditional in many ways, my lord."
Jon nips at her collarbone, and her chuckle dissolves into a moan. "I'm glad you're not traditional in every way."
The door opens, and Val walks in, shaking snow from her cloak. Seeing them already entangled on the settee, she grins. "Good to see you've begun without me."
"I'm just thanking Jon for taking care of the girls today," Sansa says, a touch primly even as Jon begins to unlace her bodice.
Laughing, Val flops down at Sansa's other side, laying a smacking kiss on her cheek. "For the snake? Honestly, sweetling, it was just a bit of fun."
Sansa sits up straighter. "A bit of fun that nearly killed poor Septa Linae. I've never seen a woman so terrified."
Val just shakes her head and lets her fingers join Jon's on Sansa's bodice. "Then you need to get a new septa. A woman must be made of sterner stuff to take our wolflings in hand."
Sansa sighs, tugging her lower lip between her teeth much in the same way Lya had in his study that morning. "They're wild," she says in the aggrieved tone of all mothers with troublesome children.
"Spirited," Jon corrects, pushing the panels of Sansa's dress aside.
Val laughs low, tugging Sansa's shift down to bare her breasts. "No, love, Sansa was right the first time. Those two are wild. Of course, given the night they were conceived...,"
They cannot be certain, of course, but the three of them have always believed that Lya and Ygrainne were both created the night Jon returned from a month-long sojourn to White Harbor. It had been the longest Jon had ever been apart from his wives, and their reunion had been...heated. Only a few weeks after, both Sansa and Val had found themselves with child, and the girls had been born less than a fortnight apart.
"Something must be done about them," Sansa insists, but her voice is high and thin as Val's thumb skates across her nipple.
"And something shall," Jon assures her before kissing her soundly.
"Mmm," Val agrees, taking one of Sansa's earlobes between her teeth. "But not tonight."
Pairing: Jon/Sansa/Val (The Threesome in the Nooooooorth!)
Rating: PG-13, I suppose as there are some Sexy Bits at the end. But pretty mild.
Notes: A future outtake from The Threesome in the North/Totally Shameless Baby Fic.
Jon Snow is a leader of men. He is Lord of Winterfell, and there are those who still call him "The Prince Who Was Promised." He has battled the Others, survived The Second Long Night, been killed and reborn. In short, he is not a man easily cowed.
Or at least he did not think himself such.
Still, looking into the two faces before him, he has to work very hard to keep his voice stern, his manner firm. "Girls, is what your mother tells me true?"
Lya glances at Ygrainne, as always looking to her sister- elder by nine days- for guidance. He sees the stubborn set of Ygrainne's chin, and knows that she is considering lying to him. Jon also knows that he should be dismayed by such an impulse, and that he should not wish to run a hand over her golden head. And yet his hand itches to do just that, much in the same way he wants to wrap Lya in a hug and reassure her that Papa is not cross.
But he makes himself stand still, leaning against his desk, both arms folded over his chest. "Girls?" he prompts again.
Lya breaks first, as he had known she would. "We didn't mean to upset Septa Linae so much, Papa," she says quickly, blue eyes wide. "It was simply meant to be a...a joke."
Ygrainne snorts at that, crossing her arms and unconsciously mimicking Jon's posture. "It was not. It was revenge."
Jon is quick to cover his startled laugh with a cough. "Revenge?" he repeats, and Ygrainne nods fiercely, her tiny face near an exact replica of her mother's.
"The septa was cruel about Ygrainne's embroidery yesterday," Lya offers sadly, reaching out to stroke her sister's arm. "She said it was 'shoddy' and she took out every one of Ygrainne's stitches, Papa. Every one! And said she must start all over again, and Ygainne had already worked ever so hard, and you know she hates embroidery and,-"
By now, Lya has nearly brought herself to tears, and Jon can no longer resist kneeling down and tugging her to his side. "There, there, pet," he tells her, pressing a kiss to the top of her black curls. But for his hair and mouth, Lya is Sansa made over again, all blue eyes and sweet voice and soft heart.
He looks over at Ygrainne who is still scowling, arms folded tight around her body, and offers a hand to her. She hesitates a moment before taking it and letting his tug her to his other side. Both arms wrapped around his daughters, Jon says, "I am very sorry that happened, Ygrainne. And perhaps I will have a talk with Septa Linae about finding a more...fitting activity for you than embroidery."
Ygrainne's entire face lights up at that, and she throws her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight. "Oh, thank you, Papa!"
At his other side, Lya makes a happy noise and wraps her own arms about him, covering his face with kisses, and Jon chuckles, holding them both tighter. He loves all seven of his children to distraction, but these two- the youngest and the most like their respective mothers- have a claim on his heart he never could have imagined.
Still, he makes himself set both of them at arm's length, and looks seriously into each of their small faces. "However. You know Mother expects you to listen to your septa, and she is quite disappointed in your behavior. As am I."
Lya drops her eyes, tugging her lower lip between her teeth, and even Ygrainne looks a bit abashed.
"If you have a problem with Septa Linae, you should tell me. Or Mother, or Val. That is how proper young ladies handle conflicts. They do not put snakes in their septa's bed."
"It was just one snake," Ygrainne mutters, but a look from Jon quells even that brief bit of rebelliousness.
"You are to apologize, both to Septa Linae and to Mother. And I believe that the two of you shall prove your remorse to Septa Linae by taking up cleaning duties in her chambers for the foreseeable future."
"Yes, Papa," Lya says meekly. Ygrainne scowls for a moment before asking, "And you promise I don't have to do embroidery anymore?"
Jon nods, even as he worries slightly at how Sansa may take that news.
Ygrainne finally sighs. "Alright. But I am not emptying her chamber pot."
Lya giggles at that, and Jon cuffs Ygrainne affectionately on the ear. "Out, you little heathens. And go find Mother."
Lya heads for the door, but Ygrainne lingers. "Do I need to apologize to my mother?"
All of their children, even the ones born to Val, have always simply referred to Sansa as "Mother," and called Val by her given name. Only Ygrainne calls both women her mother, and it never fails to make Jon smile.
"You can," he tells her, she grins, a dimple flashing in one cheek.
"She'll tell me that embroidery is bloody stupid, anyway."
This time, Jon does not try to hide his laugh. "She probably will. Now go on, love. And-," he points at her, "no more snakes. Or corrupting your sister."
Ygrainne laughs at that, dashing for the door. "It was Lya's idea!" she calls, and he can hear both girls giggling as they rush down the hall. Shaking his head, Jon closes the door to his study. Seven bloody hells, they're only eight now. What will they be like at eighteen?
He only just keeps from shuddering at the thought.
Later that night in their chambers, Sansa sits by the fire, working on embroidery of her own. "I'm not sure what you said to Lya and Ygrainne, but they were very contrite this afternoon." She lifts her head, giving him a soft smile. "Thank you."
Jon leans over to kiss the spot just beneath her ear, loving the tiny shiver that still runs through her, even after all these years. "I don't know why you wanted me to speak with them," he tells her, sweeping the fall of hair off her shoulder to expose more of her lovely neck. "Everyone knows you're the strict one."
She sighs, letting her sewing fall to her lap as he kisses her throat. "You're their father," she reminds him, hand coming up to lay against the back of his head. "It's important that they receive censure from you."
"How very traditional of you," Jon murmurs against her skin, and she chuckles slightly as she tips her head back.
"I am still very traditional in many ways, my lord."
Jon nips at her collarbone, and her chuckle dissolves into a moan. "I'm glad you're not traditional in every way."
The door opens, and Val walks in, shaking snow from her cloak. Seeing them already entangled on the settee, she grins. "Good to see you've begun without me."
"I'm just thanking Jon for taking care of the girls today," Sansa says, a touch primly even as Jon begins to unlace her bodice.
Laughing, Val flops down at Sansa's other side, laying a smacking kiss on her cheek. "For the snake? Honestly, sweetling, it was just a bit of fun."
Sansa sits up straighter. "A bit of fun that nearly killed poor Septa Linae. I've never seen a woman so terrified."
Val just shakes her head and lets her fingers join Jon's on Sansa's bodice. "Then you need to get a new septa. A woman must be made of sterner stuff to take our wolflings in hand."
Sansa sighs, tugging her lower lip between her teeth much in the same way Lya had in his study that morning. "They're wild," she says in the aggrieved tone of all mothers with troublesome children.
"Spirited," Jon corrects, pushing the panels of Sansa's dress aside.
Val laughs low, tugging Sansa's shift down to bare her breasts. "No, love, Sansa was right the first time. Those two are wild. Of course, given the night they were conceived...,"
They cannot be certain, of course, but the three of them have always believed that Lya and Ygrainne were both created the night Jon returned from a month-long sojourn to White Harbor. It had been the longest Jon had ever been apart from his wives, and their reunion had been...heated. Only a few weeks after, both Sansa and Val had found themselves with child, and the girls had been born less than a fortnight apart.
"Something must be done about them," Sansa insists, but her voice is high and thin as Val's thumb skates across her nipple.
"And something shall," Jon assures her before kissing her soundly.
"Mmm," Val agrees, taking one of Sansa's earlobes between her teeth. "But not tonight."