Notes: So... I am here again.

I can't contain myself, I love this ship! lol

So... This is basically my idea: Jon agreed to become Prince of the North, while Dany is the Queen of Westeros, so he could protect the Starks. This is after the war against the Night King, and they are in peace (or as much peace as Westeros can have).

Just some healthy pining and those two being oblivious fools, who can't see how much they love each other.

Mostly it started because the idea of Jon Snow on a tub sounded very sexy. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 1

"My Lady, the Prince has returned."

Sansa put down her embroidery. "Order someone to bring a bath to his chambers and some food." She spoke, even as she stood.

"Yes, my lady." The maid curtsied and left.

Ghost –who Jon had left behind for reasons Sansa never understood –yawned, before getting up and stretching. Arya sometimes said that Sansa was turning the direwolf on a lazy lapdog.

Sansa ran her hand over her dress, even though there was no need, it was more a nervous gesture than actual concern about her appearance.

She made her way to the courtyard to receive her husband's party. She knew Jon well enough by now to know that –while the other would prefer to eat at the halls –he would want peace and quiet.

As she took her position ahead of the crowd –with Brienne and Ghost standing guard by her side -the gates of Winterfell opened and the horses came in. Sansa took a deep breath and prepared her public face, her wifely smile.

Jon –as expected –was the first to enter with Arya right behind him. As he dismounted his palfrey, Sansa could notice the exhaustion weighing down his body.

They were gone for more than three moons, hunting down a group of outlaws that had been terrorizing the North. Arya was the one that had kept Sansa informed, writing often. A good thing too, since Jon never wrote.

Sansa cut the thought as soon as it entered her mind. They'd married for convenience, to secure the North, to protect their family. Jon didn't own her a thing, much less his heart.

Even if she was selfish enough to still want it.

However, she'd agreed with him when he said this marriage should only be political, so now she had to keep her promise, because Jon always kept all of his.

Arya reached Sansa first. She smiled warmly at her younger sister and hugged her. Arya grumbled something about food and left.

Jon stepped up to her, conscious that they were being watched by everybody. "My Lady."

He had started to call her just Sansa when they were reunited and took Winterfell back. After the wedding he'd just call her "My Lady".

He looked terrible, beyond tired. She wasn't sure how he was still standing. "My Lord." She nodded to him, then took his arm and started pulling him gently. "I asked the servants to bring food to your room and prepare a bath."

"Thank you, my Lady." He murmured, his voice low and raspy. He stretched his hand to pat Ghost on the head as the wolf followed them.

Sansa noticed that he was leaning a bit of his weight against her shoulder. "Jon, are you alright?" She asked, truly concerned. "Are you hurt? Do you want me to call the Maester?'

He shook his head. "Just tired." He mumbled.

She still felt worried, but decided not to nag her husband just a few minutes after he arrived, especially when he was in this state.

She entered his chamber with him. "Do you need help with anything? Should I send for your squire?"

"Yes, please." He looked at her. "Thank you, Sansa."

"Of course." She smiled at him, before going to the door and asking someone to fetch Jon's squire, then she left through the door of their shared solar, while Ghost stayed behind with his master.

At least he could show how much he missed Jon.

She decided to sit there and embroider for a while. She could still hear noises coming from Jon's room, noises that alerted her to the arrival of his squire and the fact that he ate. Eventually, she heard the sound of water splashing and then the door closing, so she assumed that Jon had dismissed his servant and was now bathing.

She kept working by the fire, she didn't know exactly how long. It took her a while to realize what was wrong: she'd heard Jon going in the bathtub, but never coming out.

She worried her bottom lip for a second. She didn't want to intrude in her husband's room, but it wouldn't be good for him if he fell asleep on the bathtub.

Sansa stood and hesitated for a minute. She walked to the door and listened, but nothing but silence greeted her.

She knocked softly on the door. Perhaps Jon had already gotten out of the tub and was sleeping. Maybe she just didn't hear it.

There was no answer and Sansa decided to check. Imagine if the Prince of the North drowned on his bathtub because he fell asleep on it.

She pushed the door open. "Jon?" She called in a low voice, not wanting to wake him up in case he had just gone to bed.

However, his bed had only Ghost in it. The direwolf raised his head to look at Sansa when she came in, but –recognizing her as no danger –he just lay down again. Sansa stepped into the room and –sure enough –Jon was still in the tub. She could see just his head and his back braced against the edges of the tub. He was still, so he wasn't actually bathing.

"Jon?" She called again, coming closer.

Yes, he was sleeping.

Sansa sighed, but couldn't contain a smile, even if it was a bit sad. Jon worked so hard to protect their land, to care for his people. No wonder he was exhausted.

What should she do now?

There was a piece of cloth floating on the water, like Jon had started to clean himself and then fell asleep in the middle of it. His hair was still dry, but she was sure it was in desperate need of a washing.

Sansa tried not to let her eyes take her husband's naked chest. She'd never seen Jon without a shirt, because even their beddings were beyond proper: in the dark and both as clothed as possible for the occasion.

It made her wonder if Jon had to think of someone else to touch her.

She'd never seen the scars on his chest, the mark of the betrayal he suffered. The water reached the middle of his chest, so she could only see two of them, but she knew there were more.

Sansa took a deep breath and tried to clear her head of those thoughts. She pulled a stool and sat by the tub, then gently shook her husband. "Jon?"

He startled and opened his eyes, looking around. "Sansa?" He called, his voice heavy with tiredness.

"You slept in the tub." She indicated. "I thought it was best to wake you up."

"Thank you, My Lady." He rubbed his face with his hand. "I…"

"Finish washing yourself." She directed, perhaps a bit too firmly. "I'll wash your hair while you do it."

Even in his fatigue Jon looked surprised. "There's no need for…"

"Hush, Jon." She said. "Let us finish this so you can rest."

Jon just nodded and turned away from her, picked the cloth again and –Sansa assumed –started to clean himself.

"Just lean your head back for a second." She asked gently, so she could pour water over Jon's head.

He complied, then Sansa lathered his hair with soap and started massaging his head. She watched Jon washing himself for a while, until his movements grew slow and eventually stopped, his head resting on the tub. He'd fallen asleep again.

Sansa couldn't contain a smile, even if it saddened her to see him this tired. She'd finished washing his hair and contemplated waking him up, so he could leave the tub, but noticed he hadn't finished washing himself.

He was her husband and she was just taking care of him. There was nothing wrong with that.

Sansa took a deep breath and picked the cloth. She was just helping him.

She cleaned his neck and collarbone gently, then his shoulders. She didn't let her hand venture too deep into the water as she washed his chest, because she felt like she was taking advantage of her husband.

She raised her hand and touched the cloth to his cheek. Jon opened his eyes immediately and his hand grasped hers.

"It's just me, Jon." Sansa spoke calmly.

Jon shook his head and let go of her hand. "I'm sorry, My Lady. I…"

"Shush. Let's finish before you sleep yet again." She cleaned his face, feeling a bit like a mother with a stubborn child. "Let me wash your back."

That finally seemed to make him a bit more alert. "You don't have to do that…"

"I fear that, if I leave it to you, you won't leave this tub tonight." She joked lightly. "Now let me wash your back."

Jon was still for a minute and she thought he would refuse, but –after a pause –he gave her his back. Sansa ran the cloth across his shoulders and felt them relaxing. She thought she heard Jon sighing, but couldn't be sure.

She washed his back a bit lower than she'd dared with his chest, then Jon went all stiff and she stopped.

She felt foolish and stood up. "I'll get you linen to dry." She said. "Try to stay awake while I'm gone." She said, not exactly teasing.

"Aye, My Lady."

She picked a linen up and came back to offer it to Jon.

Then he stood from the tub.

Sansa was sure he only did it because he was so tired, he'd never exposed himself to her like this otherwise. She let her eyes fall to the ground.

Jon stepped out of the tub and grabbed the linen with a low "thank you", as he walked –almost stumbled –closer to the bed.

Sansa kept her back turned to him, until she heard the sound of him climbing on the bed. She turned to find the linen abandoned to the floor, along with the shirt his squire had left for him to wear. At least he was wearing pants.

She approached the bed to check on him. He was turned on his belly and hadn't even pulled the furs to cover himself. His hair was soaking wet.

Sansa considered Jon for a minute. It was cold outside, even with the fires blazing in his room. Sleeping with his hair wet would be bad, he might catch a cold like this.

Feeling a bit foolish Sansa picked a dry linen up and sat on the bed by Jon. She tried to dry his curls the best she could, but she only had some success, considering he was lying down.

She pulled the furs to cover his body and was getting ready to leave, when he grabbed her hand. "Tell me about Winterfell." He murmured sleepily.

Sansa arched a brow, even though he couldn't see it. Jon was acting the same way he acted the three times she'd seen in on his cups. On these times, he had sat somewhere close and asked her to tell him how things were around Winterfell.

Sansa remembered these moments very well, because Jon rarely indulged on drinking and because he seemed so relaxed then, just wanting to know about the keep, about the small things.

"You're too tired, Jon." She told him in a gentle voice. "Tomorrow we can talk."

But he didn't let go of her hand. "Tell me." He asked again, his voice too heavy with sleep to be a real command.

Still…

Sansa hesitated, then climbed on the bed, putting her back against the headboard. Ghost gave her a look, before closing his eyes and sighing. "Well, one of the stable boys came to ask for permission to marry his sweetheart. Why he thought he needed my permission for that is beyond my understanding…"

She told him of light things, of small details.

Jon never let go of her hand, not even as he fell asleep.

Notes: They are soooo adorable.

And so slow! hahaha

Let me know you feelings!

(Also, let me know about mistakes on my grammar. English isn't my first language, but I do try.)