jonsa + soul marks but in canon
takes place post 8x03. enjoyyyyyyy.
Sansa had never seen him shirtless, she realized.
Maybe when they were children on a particularly hot day, but that was the sort of thing she would have avoided back then when faced with the concept of impropriety. The boys being obnoxious and Arya running around in circles, and Sansa would have felt unbelievably out of place. No, she had never seen him shirtless.
Now she saw it all.
He was laid out on her bed because it would be harder for people to find him here, they wouldn’t think to search her chambers, and he was close to passing out. His breaths were still coming in quickly, uneven, despite the fact that it had to have been an hour or two since he had done any fighting. It was difficult to know time, and Sansa was as exhausted as he looked.
She wrung out the cloth in the basin, red and dark, and swept it over his stomach again. It was hard not to reach out with a finger and trail over the deep scars from where he had been betrayed once, but it wasn’t her place. It wasn’t the time, and she didn’t want to remind him of one tragedy after only just facing another.
“Would you turn over?” she asked, attempting to divert her eyes from his stomach as he opened his own. “I can just check to see if there are any cuts on your back to be mended, and then I promise it will all be done.”
