So this is about a page shorter than is my norm. Apologies for that.
I hope to finish the last chapter this week.
He was holding her close, and wanted to hold her closer. Her breath was soft, and he felt himself rocking her slightly in his arms. It was lovely. "Sansa," he whispered.
She pulled away, drawing a deep breath. "It's been a time, these past few days."
"It has."
She couldn't look at him. "I'm afraid."
"What of?"
"Of…" she struggled to put her feelings into words. "Of everything being all right. Because it never will," and now she looked at him. "I've seen so much, been through…" she swallowed. "I don't mean to say that you haven't, but I…I don't know how to trust," her gaze fell once more.
"You don't trust me?"
"I don't know," she cried. "I don't know anything. I don't know what I want, what to do…I barely know who I am…I just don't want to be afraid, but it's all I know…"
"You're a strong person, Sansa. Stronger than you give yourself credit for…so many people would never have survived what you did," he took her hand. "I promised you that I'd never hurt you. I meant that."
"You kissed me," she whispered.
"I did," and he was uncertain how to proceed, since much had happened in the interim.
"…and…?"
"And what?" he dropped her hand.
"Do you think that that wouldn't confuse me? Hurt me, even?"
"Did I hurt you?" he breathed.
She shook her head…"No…" and it was a bit of a wail.
"Tell me what's wrong, Sansa…" he couldn't bear this.
She looked at him, tears streaming down her face. "I'm so confused, Jon! I don't know…I don't know what to do. I want…" she swallowed. "I want…this…" she pointed between the two of them, and his heart was in his throat. "But I'm afraid. And I don't know if it's the right thing…"
"You care for me, then?"
"Of course I do. But I think it's wrong…I'm wrong."
"It can't be," he smiled, cupping her face. "This isn't wrong Sansa…this is…" he longed to kiss her…"This is our fate."
"I'm tainted. I'm no good," she backed away. "I need to be alone," she stepped away, still looking at him.
"Does it not matter to you that I'm in love with you?" he said it. Out loud. And a great albatross was lifted…
"Take it back," she said, her voice cracking.
"I won't. It's the truth. And you care for me…" he advanced. "I love you, Sansa. As a man, not your brother, not your cousin. And no matter what, nothing will change that."
She blanched, then turned away and went back to her horse.
Jon was left there, his booted feet deep in snow.
He hung back a bit, considering what to do. He rather felt like abandoning the North and riding off…no direction known. He felt as though everything was black. The long night was descending, and the cold of winter would be unrelenting.
And he was Targaryen.
And the nephew of the Queen.
And he was in love with his cousin.
What a mess.
She did not reciprocate…not enough, anyway. Not enough.
"King Jon!" called a voice…he looked, and there was Tyrion Lannister.
He nodded, then making the decision there on the spot, went to retrieve his horse. He rode up to the Hand, and said, "She doesn't love me."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I told her. And she doesn't love me."
"Impossible," Tyrion gasped.
"What? That she doesn't reciprocate or that you are wrong?"
"Both. It's unfathomable."
Jon snickered. "Well, there's a first time for everything, I suppose."
"What nonsense. First time for me being wrong? I won't have it, Jon Targaryen. You must go right this. What did you say?"
"I told her that I loved her. And she told me that she was afraid."
Tyrion laughed. "And that is your estimation of a rejection? My dear man, if that was my measure, I'd be a virgin."
And Jon laughed. "But I can't make her unafraid. I don't know how…"
Tyrion was looking at him crookedly, then stared off into the distance. "Give me the night. I'll set this to right."
The towers of Winterfell rose before her as she kicked her horse and galloped to the place. She was anxious to get inside and hide.
No. Not hide.
Get ready.
For the feast.
Sansa hurried up to her quarters and closed the door. She was breathing hard. She would rest and collect herself before she got ready. That might calm her.
But her rest was dream ridden and upsetting…there were long corridors and hollow halls. She was lost and yet not. It was cold and hard, and she was afraid…
Her eyes opened and her hands were shaking. She sat up and thought that she should prepare for the feast that was surely being prepared…
Sansa was watching Daenerys and Tyrion sitting next to one another, sipping wine. She thought that he had better give it up soon, the Queen will not want a drunkard for a partner. Her gaze fell and she smiled.
Not once did she look for Jon, nor did she hear his voice to cause her head to turn. And she was rather happy for it.
She sipped and looked at the music began to play soft at first, then rise in cadence.
Sansa rose and took her cup with her, not wanting to dance, nor be the object of gazes. She rather wanted to go to bed.
She went to an alcove, the moonlight in full bloom, and she looked out. The snow was thick and white.
"You left the party."
Sansa turned quickly, and saw a smiling Queen looking at her. "I did," and she cleared her throat.
"Why?" and she took a step toward her.
"I am not in the mood."
"Not in the mood for food, drink, and dance?"
Sansa smirked. "I am tired after the long journey from Castle Black."
"Yes," Dany said. "It was an arduous one," and she came closer, looking into the night. "But there is a time for merriment," she looked at Sansa. "And I should think that now is an apt time."
"You are a persistent Queen," she backed up. "But I am tired."
"You are avoiding," Daenerys smiled. "Someone."
Her heart fell. "I don't know what you mean."
"Yes you do, Lady Stark. You are not dull, you know precisely of what I speak."
Sansa could feel her face fall, her color leaving.
"Come. You care for him."
Her eyes snapped to the Queen's.
"You do. It's written all over your face. And his," she added knowingly.
Her eyes grew wide. "But he's…"
"Your cousin. And? That is permitted in Westeros."
"What do you mean? We are…"
"Allowed to love one another. And I suggest you get on with it, Lady Stark. He appears to be in much pain…" she turned away.
"Would it not be improper? Would it not be forbidden?"
"No," Daenerys said simply.
Sansa could feel the tears burn the back of her eyes. "But…" her voice cracked…"But I'm so…afraid…"
"Of?"
She shook her head and swallowed. "Everything. Just everything…I cannot allow this to happen. My love…" she was going to say it. "It's like poison."
"What do you mean?" the Queen sounded concerned.
"I am not allowed to love…the gods won't allow it…" she cried softly. "Joffrey was a villain. Ramsay was a monster. Everyone who I was promised to…they were awful. And to survive, I decided to abandon it. And I'm afraid…I don't want Jon to become what they were, or that I make him a monster…what if it's me…?"
"Sansa…" Daenerys went to her and held her hands. "You are a lovely woman, and nothing is keeping you from happiness but yourself. King Targaryen loves you. I see it, both in him and in you. Go to him…"
…and she saw him across the room.
"You don't drink enough," Tyrion sipped long.
"No? How much should I drink?"
"More."
Jon smiled. "I might start."
"That's what I like to hear!" Tyrion poured some wine into a goblet, then handed it to Jon. "Come. Your melancholy is contagious…and I won't have it. We have a wager."
"Forget my part, Lord Tyrion. I've lost," and he drank deeply.
He sighed. "Now, we are speaking nonsense. I need to supply the Queen with an answer."
"So tell her. I told Sansa, and she left me there in the snow."
Tyrion frowned. "This is not how I foresaw these events."
"No? Well…perhaps you ought to rethink…"
"Or, perhaps you should begin to think afresh," he nodded toward the archway.
Jon was looking at him, then lifted his gaze to the place Tyrion indicated.
And Sansa was standing there, looking at him.
He put his drink down, never leaving her face…
…and Sansa began to walk toward him…and the scene slowed…people began to look at them. He felt his heart begin to pound. He was uncertain whether he wanted to move…
But he did.
And he reached her…the room softly lit…the sounds slowing…
And he cupped her face. "Sansa…" he whispered.
And she claimed his mouth.
It was warm, and nothing was heard…the lovers were oblivious to all but one another…
And when he pulled himself away…
Sansa was smiling.