Chapter 8 (mixed POV)
"A book? Aren't there better places to press a winter rose?" Daenerys asked softly, her left hand moving a few inches from the armrest of her chair to the armrest of Sansa's chair. Sansa looked down at her hand but made no move to object.
Daenerys didn't know why she permitted this flirtation to continue. Hadn't Sansa just rejected her earlier? And hadn't she also backed away from pushing Sansa after she'd cornered her with talk of Doreah? I'm not the only one; she's flirting with me, too.
"Only if you're not afraid of causing it damage," answered Sansa, a blush rising up across her neck. Did I really just say that?
"What if a little bruising actually improves its glow?" asked Daenerys, openly looking at Sansa's neck before looking up into her eyes.
Sansa couldn't help the small gasp that escaped and she turned toward the fire to steady herself. They were back again to circling around that something that could never happen and this time it was Sansa that had started it. It was dangerous and yet, in spite of her earlier recriminations to herself about what had happened today, she liked it too much to stop. She knew she should back away but she also wanted to see how much closer to the line Daenerys would take this if she let her.
"Winter roses are delicate things and should be handled with care," warned Sansa, looking towards Daenerys, returning Daenerys's soft gaze.
It was Daenerys's turn to take a small breath and turn to the fire. Sansa took the opportunity to look upon her appearance. The small, pleased upturn of her mouth, her hair, her skin, the hand that remained on the armrest of her chair, its presence in Sansa's space like a tether to her core. The air was thick now, the tension taut. Her breathing felt steady in spite of her racing heart but Daenerys was the picture of serenity. There were no signs that she was uncomfortable with where this might lead. And why would she be? She is much more experienced at this than I am. Older. Beautiful. But surely she knows it's time to stop.
Daenerys briefly looked at the fire and pondered the shift in Sansa that she sensed. Her words were a warning but seemingly also a dare to push further. Would Sansa allow a kiss? Turning back, she let her eyes slowly linger on Sansa's lips, communicating her intent, giving Sansa a chance to turn away. Then she looked into her eyes, waiting. She felt nervous and it wasn't often that she did, not about a kiss. Daenerys liked the feeling.
"I know how to be gentle, too, Lady Sansa," said Daenerys softly, leaning towards Sansa, thankful that she had placed the chairs close together.
Just before Daenerys said this, Sansa caught a passing look of shy excitement on Daenerys's face. Not the practiced queen, not the teasing woman who enjoyed unsettling her. Could she be feeling this as much as I am? Sansa wondered, not quite believing it.
"Are we still talking about flowers, your Grace?" asked Sansa in a breathy voice, leaning ever so slightly towards her. She would go no further, making Daenerys decide whether to close the distance but the tilt of Sansa's face implied willingness. Am I really not going to stop this? Would one kiss ruin everything?
Daenerys could see that Sansa looked conflicted. The thought of seeing regret or disgust on Sansa's face if she leaned in further gave her pause. She'd had enough of that sort of thing from Jon. Sansa must have sensed her hesitation for she suddenly stood up and took a few steps to one side of the hearth, placing one hand on the stone wall, while Daenerys took a few deep breaths to center herself. She's Jon's sister, what were you thinking? After a few moments, Sansa spoke.
"We're friends now, are we not, your Grace?" she asked quietly. That was too close! Sansa berated herself. She's playing with you, Sansa. Don't fall for it.
"I don't know, Lady Sansa. I think we could be. But… much is unspoken about what you're really after in these conversations we've been having," Daenerys answered slowly. "I don't know if a real friendship is possible until I know where you stand."
Daenerys left it vague enough for Sansa to decide what 'unspoken' things she was referring to: Sansa's aim for a free North or their connection just now and that incident in the snow earlier today.
Sansa continued to stare at the wall in front of her. She knew exactly what Daenerys was alluding to but how could she address that when she didn't even understand it herself?
"It isn't obvious?" Sansa asked in a soft voice, trying to contain the haughtiness within that wanted to lash out; Daenerys had weakened her, made her act in ways that didn't make any sense. She pressed her hand firmly against the stone wall, trying to will its hardness into her.
"Of course it's obvious. But remind me. So I know how to respond. How to guard myself from giving you my… favor," Daenerys said, chastising herself for her near mistake and the almost pleading nature of her tone. She'd almost said 'heart'. She steeled her voice and said, "So I know how far I can trust you."
Daenerys stood up and stepped behind her chair, staring hard at Sansa, armoring herself against the cold Lady Stark she thought was about to be unleashed upon her.
"The North has had enough of wars and southern rulers. Houses have been decimated by infighting and treachery. I want the North to be free," breathed Sansa. Her mind sighed within itself, feeling her mistake. She had sought to place distance between them and instead reminded Daenerys of why she was not to be trusted. You must contain this anger, Sansa, or you risk everything.
"And what will happen to the other kingdoms if I give that to you?" asked Daenerys evenly, her voice betraying nothing of the anger that was building within her. It'll always be the North with her.
I don't care, Sansa wanted to reply selfishly. But reason forced her to be truthful.
"Dorne and the Iron Islands might rebel. Maybe others," replied Sansa, still staring at the wall.
"More war, Lady Sansa. And don't we all deserve peace after these years of tumult?"
Daenerys struggled to keep her composure. When Sansa had asked about the North soon after she'd arrived at Winterfell she'd lost her temper. She hadn't been prepared for rebelliousness back then and she knew she had difficulties in responding to disagreements with others. But that was then. Walking over to stand behind Sansa, she softened. This didn't have to devolve into anger. Too much has happened between them to not try a different approach. Daenerys raised a hand to touch her shoulder but she closed it into a fist and brought it back down. If she could only convince Sansa of her good intentions.
"I know you and your family have suffered. The North has suffered. Not just at the hands of the Lannisters and their allies but because of geography. You were the first line of defense against the dead and you were largely left on your own to fight them. My armies helped but not much else of Westeros did and I understand how you could feel like you don't owe us anymore. I won't forget your sacrifices, Lady Sansa. I won't forget the North. I will help you rebuild. I will help replenish what you've lost and I will allow House Stark and the other houses of the North to determine for themselves who will ascend to the various open seats like the Dreadfort and Last Hearth. You've earned that sort of autonomy. My rule will not be tyrannical. All will have a say. And… I will never force a marriage of alliance on you. You will choose whether or not you will ever remarry."
Sansa slowly turned around, tears welling in her eyes. She could tell Daenerys believed all that she said and she was surprisingly moved by it, the previous moment's fury dissipating in an instant. Sansa then thought of her family. This was a Targaryen in front of her. It was true that there was tremendous potential for good but there was also potential for catastrophic destruction. To trust her felt like a leap of faith and the leap was just too far. But they had reached the point where further defiance would end what she was trying to do. Sansa needed Daenerys to believe that she was not a threat.
"We do deserve peace," Sansa replied, blinking her tears away.
"That doesn't tell me where you stand, Lady Sansa," said Daenerys, taking a step back in frustration.
"I'm trying, your Grace. Why do you think I've been doing this? To know you, to get rid of my reservations, to trust you. It's truly hard for me to surrender control. Even with Jon I have found it difficult to trust his judgement."
"I have seen how you openly question him. You do not consider yourself subject to his authority."
"Jon leads men into battle and they follow him gladly. He is a good and honorable man and I should've been a better sister to him growing up. But he doesn't really understand the nuances of people's natures and that type of knowledge is what a good ruler needs."
Daenerys's eyes narrowed and realized what Sansa had just said. She felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her.
"You know, don't you? He told you."
"Arya and I are his family," replied Sansa, standing straight, ready to face wrath and accusation.
"So am I, apparently," answered Daenerys after a pause. She went back to her chair and sat down, looking into the fire. It was burning low and the wood was nearly all cinders and ash. Sansa knows; she will turn against me.
Sansa was surprised by this response but it was a good sign that she'd made enough progress in developing their friendship. She grabbed a piece of wood and put it on the fire. They both watched the flames nearly smother out but then flare up around the new log. Daenerys looked up at her with an empty expression and Sansa knew she thought their friendship was over. It was time to reassure her, to be the confidante to Daenerys she'd told Arya she could be. She sat down in her chair and waited for Daenerys to speak.
"All this time I thought I was the last Targaryen. I should be ecstatic by this discovery. But circumstances…"
"You mean northern sensibilities," Sansa said gently. That got a small smile out of Daenerys and Sansa was glad that her humor remained.
"Your Grace, perhaps he just needs more time to adjust to the new situation. He still loves you and…"
"I know he still loves me. It radiates off of him and calls to me whenever I see him but do you know what else I see? Disgust. Self-loathing. Even if he could somehow accept our kinship, how can I ever forget this abandonment? How can I trust him? It can never be like it was, no matter what happens in the future."
"He's an idiot," Sansa said, shaking her head in exasperation. "I told him so to his face."
"So you do not think it's wrong, he and I together?" Daenerys asked, surprised by Sansa's admission that she'd scolded Jon.
"It's what your family does," Sansa said quietly.
"You're very good at deflecting, Lady Sansa. I actually don't care what anyone else thinks. Jon and I fell in love before we knew."
Sansa hesitated. A true friend would offer this. She swallowed thickly before speaking.
"If your Grace wishes, I can speak with him."
Daenerys was surprised at the offer but then shook her head.
"Thank you, Lady Sansa, but the last thing I want is someone begging him on my behalf. I'd much rather learn what you're going to do now that you know."
"I swore never to tell. Only he can release me from that vow."
"And will he?"
"No. We both know Jon is a terrible liar. If he has told you that he doesn't want the throne then he means it. You will have the throne with his full support."
"That won't matter if his parentage becomes known. Will you keep your vow, Lady Sansa?"
Sansa could feel the tension growing as Daenerys asked more direct questions.
"Yes," Sansa answered honestly. However she couldn't resist a diplomatic warning. "But the alliance between the North and yourself goes both ways."
Daenerys understood it as the ever-present impasse between them. She sighed.
"Do you intend to harm me?" Daenerys asked, looking into Sansa's eyes, bracing herself for any hint of betrayal. It would either be a truth or a lie and she tried not to think about how it would crush her to see a lie.
"No, your Grace," replied Sansa steadily. She put all of her warmer moments with Daenerys into her words. It was the biggest, most important lie in their 'friendship' so far and Sansa needed Daenerys to believe it completely. In the moment she thought of Daenerys's laughter, of how gently her fingers had touched her, of how Daenerys felt underneath her, of how dark her eyes had gotten when they stared up at her in desire in the snow, of how they had nearly kissed just before this argument. That part of her, as much as she'd been trying to suppress it, did not want Daenerys harmed at all. Sansa clung to those thoughts to make her face seem earnest, to prevent Daenerys from seeing the truth and her guilt.
Daenerys stared at Sansa, going over her words. It was as if they were at the beginning; the North still between them but no evidence that Sansa intended treachery. Back then she thought she would come out of this with a victory; whether she'd won Sansa's trust or not, these interactions publicly showed an alliance between them and a betrayal would be properly punished. Daenerys hadn't meant to grow so close to her. She hadn't meant to put her heart at risk. But can I trust her? What is the point of these continued meetings now that I've reasserted my claim over the North? What am I missing?
Sansa answered Daenerys's hard stare with a patient one. She could tell that Daenerys was deciding whether this friendship between them should continue.
"When do you want me?" asked Daenerys, leaning forward.
"What?" stammered Sansa. Did Daenerys mistake her look for desire?
"For needlework. I can't promise that my hands will be as adept as yours but I am a quick study."
Sansa laughed nervously. "Our conversation is covering a lot of ground tonight, isn't it?"
"I like you, Lady Sansa," Daenerys said, a serious expression on her face. "I don't have any friends here other than my own people. I've lost so much and have seemingly gained nothing. But you've given me a chance, taken me around to get to know your people. And I won't be here for much longer. Even if we're at odds over what you want, I feel like that doesn't have to be an impediment. Can we still be friends?"
Daenerys reached her left hand toward Sansa and without hesitation Sansa took it with her right. She saw that Sansa seemed startled at how quickly she'd done so. They both looked down at their joined hands and she resisted letting her thumb rub over Sansa's knuckles. Sansa, however, seemed to not heed what propriety demanded of them. Seeing and feeling Sansa's thumb softly caress her fingers, she looked up at Sansa. Her blues eyes were fixed on their hands, thinking, and Daenerys dared not interrupt for fear Sansa would stop.
The flurry of topics had rattled Sansa's focus and she welcomed the silence they shared right now. She only barely registered that her thumb was moving over Daenerys's fingers. Sansa took several calming breaths before turning her focus back to needlepoint. That seemed a safer subject and she was glad Daenerys had directed their conversation away from their diverging political ambitions.
"It takes steady hands, nimble fingers, and patience. I'm not sure about your patience but I think your fingers are capable." Sansa's eyes widened slightly, realizing how her words could be played with.
Daenerys smirked knowingly. Still holding Sansa's hand she finally allowed her thumb free rein. Just small circles but she enjoyed the flushed look that grew on Sansa's face. She had lost herself earlier but the balance had shifted back in her favor.
"After the midday meal tomorrow then? Where shall I meet you?"
"My rooms," Sansa said and then corrected, "My solar." She released Daenerys's hand and stood up. The heat that had grown just from Daenerys's thumb on her hand was very distracting. Double meanings and flirtation were just words but physical touch was something else altogether. There had been quite enough of that already.
"Then I will bid you goodnight, Lady Sansa," said Daenerys, standing up and glancing to the door that led to her bedchamber.
Sansa noticed Daenerys's glance and directed an anxious look at the same door but then she bit the inside of her cheek and walked to the door that led to the corridor. Don't think about her bedchamber.
"Goodnight, your Grace. You may bring Missandei tomorrow, if you wish. Arya has never liked needlework or knitting and it can be more fun when there are more women in the room."
"Yes, it can," replied Daenerys, her voice low. "I will pass along your desire for more women to Missandei."
Now fully flustered, Sansa grasped the latch and exited, brushing past Grey Worm without a word, trying not to picture the implications of those last words.
With Sansa gone and the door closed, Daenerys released the laughter she'd been holding in. Yes, I think we covered a LOT of ground tonight.
Daenerys went back to her chair, looking at the fire. Before the dinner she was certain of their mutual attraction and that awareness made her look for further signs. The flustered interest she'd shown in Daenerys's sexual past was one indication. And in the midst of awkwardness, arguments, and difficult subjects, Sansa had most definitely flirted and Daenerys had flirted in return. She shouldn't have done so; it was foolish and reckless and it made her vulnerable. But knowing that Sansa was trying to resist made it all the more tempting. To what end? This can't happen, not if I have any hope of working things out with Jon. And how she reacted when the North was discussed... It's time to stop. Tease but don't cross the line.
A/N: I know, the burn is so slow. Is it obvious I enjoy tv shows with a long will-they-won't-they component? Lots of angst, tension, and conflict in this story. Sansa's plot but also love triangles. I have no qualms exploring how love and longing can be felt for more than one person at the same time so just a heads up if that's something that bothers you. This is still very much a Sansa/Daenerys romance, and all pov's will be from one or the other, but the complication of Dany finding herself attracted to Sansa while still wanting to be with Jon is very interesting to me. The stakes and responsibilities of these characters in the world of GoT and season 8 are also present. As the chapters progress and the attraction escalates (yes, it will definitely escalate, please be patient), we will see how these things poke holes in this romantic bubble Sansa and Dany are building around themselves.
