ASOIAF

Bittersweet

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: They held themselves back a long time for this moment.

He found her looking out over the Blackwater in the gardens. Her red hair swayed in the breeze freely. Her dress, a white gown with the fringes of the sleeves and skirt dyed to look as if stained by bright red blood, contrasted against the dark orange and purple sky and the greenery of the gardens. He approached her wordlessly but he was sure she heard his footsteps. She only looked at him when he finally stood beside her.

"Are they looking for me?" She asked quietly.

"No." He answered. She smiled thinly and looked back out for the horizon.

"Good." She said, and she covered one of his hands with hers, giving it a brief squeeze.

"I don't want to go back in there."

Podrick glanced over his own shoulder at the Red Keep. Smoke was billowing from it, as it had been since they had taken the castle days ago. The windows in the throne room had been smashed out and the Iron Throne set ablaze by pyromancers under their conqueror's orders. The Throne had been continuously burning ever since, the flames safely contained by the pyromancers, the iron melting slowly under the heat. It was beginning to puddle on the floor and was virtually unrecognizable now. Podrick had sat up one night in the throne room watching the imposing chair melt, wondering if Aegon and his sisters had done something similar when they and their dragons had descended upon Harrenhall. Had Visenya or Rhaenys watched the stone melt with the same hollow sense of victory Podrick did as his eyes followed beads of liquid metal fall to the floor? Did they look at their king's noble face afterwards and see no satisfaction there the same way Podrick looked at his queen's moments after the accursed throne was engulfed in flames? Podrick looked away from the black smoke billowing out of the royal holdfast and back at his queen.

"Will you ever step inside there again?" He asked.

"No." She answered without hesitation. She removed her hand from his as she turned to face him. Her cold soft hands garnered a shudder from his lips as they cupped both his cheeks and forced him to lean down to her eye level. She closed her eyes and began to lean forward, tilting her head slightly in the process. He leaned away, out of her hands' reach.

"Sansa, we can't. Lord Tyrion, he—"

"Is no longer my husband. I had the High Septon annul it, you know that." She reminded him softly. She gently took one of his hands in both of hers and stepped closer to him. She pressed her forehead against his chest. "We've denied ourselves long enough. I'm tired of holding back everything. I've had to do that for far too long, Pod." She whispered pleadingly into his leather jerkin. Podrick wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pressed further her against him. He rested his chin atop her the crown of her head.

They had, hadn't they, he thought. He didn't know when it started for her, but he couldn't deny that he had wanted to kiss her since not long after they left the Vale, maybe even before that, when they both resided in King's Landing. Either way, he restrained himself. Because she was his Lord's wife, and we was just a squire, and she had more important things happening in her life than a stumbletongue squire fancying her. It had been a big deal just for him to call her by her name without her proper title before it, he should never have so much as dreamed of more than that. He shoved down those problematic feelings for weeks, sure that they were nothing but nonsense his boyish brain had whipped up just to torment him. Besides, she would never feel the same for him.

At least, he had thought so.

But then she had kissed him.

It wasn't like in the songs at all. It wasn't sweet and chaste, or even passionate and romantic. It was sad and it was desperate, but not the way most men or women would have liked their first kiss to be. Because their kiss had been a dank dark corner in the Twins, both covered in rain and blood, death permeating the air, and her arms dead at her sides from having cut off dozens of heads. Heads of boys, heads of men, heads of sons, heads of fathers, heads of murders, heads of innocents; the weight of all those heads was heavy on her shoulders it could be seen as she trudged out of the yard at the end of that day, minutes after the Late Walder Frey's head rolled. And much more weighted on her as well.

He found her sitting in a dark corner of a corridor in the lower levels of the castle, shivering from her wet, bloody clothes, staring straight ahead with dead eyes. Most would have said she should have been happy and smiling in that moment, but her father had raised her well and it was clear she took no enjoyment from what she had just done. He didn't know what to say besides ask the question already knew the answer to.

"Are you alright?" He whispered, kneeling before her. She stared right through him.

"How…" She croaked. "How am I supposed to be alright when I failed?" She asked.

She referred to her uncle and her aunt's deaths. They had laid siege to the Twins to liberate them, give them back what was rightfully theirs. Instead, Edmure's throat was slit while his hands remained chained and manacled above his head, having no way to defend himself as some Walder took a dagger to his neck. His young wife suffered a similar fate. Her own cousins stormed into her chambers and stabbed her a half dozen times when the enemy broke down the gates and started climbing over the walls. The dolts had thankfully not thought to aim for her belly. Hers and Edmure's daughter had been saved at least. But that was hardly a consolation for what had been lost. They came there to save a Great House and prove that not all was lost, instead they brought a baby girl into the world, her conception and birth marked by death and bloodshed.

He debated it for a moment, but he took her into his arms and held her against his chest. She stiffened at first, but then relaxed and became dead weight against him. They stayed that way for awhile in complete silence. Until one of her hands came up to touch his cheek. He looked down at her with surprise as she pulled away from his chest slowly and brought her other hand up to cup his face as well. Her eyes were welling with tears and her bottom lip was trembling, but she looked genuinely thankful for a moment. She pulled him forward and their lips touched.

She did most of the work and he sat there frozen in shock at her actions for what would most likely be considered too long, but eventually he reciprocated the gesture. Until he regained his senses at least. He tentatively pulled away when his befuddled mind started yelling that this was someone else's wife he was kissing, and more importantly, that this was not the time to be indulging in his feelings for her. It wasn't right. She wasn't in the right frame of mine. She looked at him confusedly at first when he pulled back, but then she seemed to silently realize his reasons.

"I'm sorry, My Lady, I mean Sansa." He apologized. "I shouldn't have."

She frowned. "Don't apologize for it. I kissed you." She said. Her face turned a bit red, and she looked away embarrassedly. "You didn't betray Lord Tyrion, I did." She mumbled. He felt his own face heat up then.

"No, we both did." He protested. "We, we shouldn't have, but…we'll share the blame equally. So if, I mean when Lord Tyrion comes back, he'll have to be mad at both of us."

She gave him a look then. "He'll have no right to be mad by the time he comes back. I plan to have our marriage annulled." She said and he looked at her with surprise.

"Really?" He asked, and he wondered why he was so astonished. She really had no reason to want to stay married to his Lord, so it made sense that she would want to have it annulled. She nodded her head, confirming her previous statement.

"And when I do no one will ever tell me who to marry or who to court ever again." She said, determination in her blue eyes. She looked every bit a queen, even with her face all red from crying.

"When I am once again an unbound woman," She continued. "No one will be able to tell me who I can or can't kiss." She smiled shyly at him and looked away. He felt himself smile as well. It was an unspoken promise from then on that when her marriage was annulled, they'd be able to share a kiss again.

All that had happened months ago. Since then, they hadn't kissed a second time. Though there had been some close calls. But the most affection they had allowed themselves were hugs, kisses on the cheeks. Small gestures so benign due to their budding friendship from their days in the Vale that it took awhile for Jaime to catch on and start teasing them mercilessly about it every chance he got. Brienne had just given him a warning about upholding their queen's honor. Sandor, when he had been alive, had glared at him a fair bit but eventually just told him to be good to his little bird. Podrick remembered the suicidal moment that followed where he had boldly corrected the disfigured giant. "She's not a bird, Ser. She's a wolf; always has been." In the seconds following, Podrick had been sure Sandor would throttle him or at least cuff him, but instead, Sandor was left dumbstruck by the squire's words and by the time he time he gathered his wits, Podrick was bidding his farewell and beating a hasty retreat back to his tent.

"What's holding you back then?" Sansa asked impatiently, pulling away from him to look him in the eye. He pressed his forehead to hers, feeling his cheeks start to warm up and a stupid grin work its way onto his lips. "Nothing. Just worrying over the fact that a lowly stumbletongued knight like me isn't good enough for a beautiful, elegant and intelligent queen like you." He whispered against her pink lips. Her eyes smiled and he heard her laugh. Her hands once again came up to cup his face and stroke his flushed cheeks affectionately.

"It sounds like something out of a song." She laughed with a hint of bitterness. He pulled her even closer against him.

"Songs are sometimes based on reality." He replied, then, before he could change his mind or realize how stupid what he just said was and pull away to apologize, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers. She returned the kiss wholeheartedly.

It was sweet and passionate all in one. It tasted like lemoncakes and it felt like the warm southron breeze blowing around them. But there was an underlying tang of sourness that he knew wasn't from anything either of them had eaten and wouldn't be going away for a long time. But he was fine with that, because he was willing to endure a million bittersweet kisses if it meant being with her.

A/N:

I'm not going to lie. This is pretty much shameless wish fulfillment; well, not shameless. I do kind of feel embarrassed over how mooshy this story is. But I sincerely hope people enjoy it.

Please review and check out some of my other stories as well. I really hope you all liked it.