Chapter 10
Daenerys arrived to dinner in the Great Hall early to make sure the seating arrangements she requested were obeyed. Jon, who was not there yet, would be sitting on her right but the chairs had adjusted so that Sansa would sit on her left. She slowly sipped her wine while she waited for Sansa to arrive and ignored some of the stares she received from the northerners already in the hall. She inwardly smiled, knowing they were shocked at the dress and how her hair was styled. It was still the same number of braids but more of her hair was loose across her shoulders. Missandei had been surprised but she went along with helping her and was now sitting with Davos, observing how everyone reacted to the queen's attire.
Fortunately Daenerys didn't have to wait long for Sansa, who entered and briskly walked towards the high table, eyes finding hers and the smile on Sansa's face filled Daenerys with longing. It had only been a few hours since she'd been in her solar but that feeling she had while looking at the various needlework pieces had been so strong she had taken hold of Sansa's hand and it took all of her willpower to refrain from pulling her into a kiss. If Sansa had looked up instead of staying focused on their hands, she definitely would have, and the prospect of losing control like that frightened her. Daenerys had left the solar as quickly as she could. As Sansa sat down next to her, Daenerys took a deep breath to remind herself that she couldn't pursue her.
"You look exactly how I imagined," Sansa whispered admiringly, eyeing her before turning towards the hall.
Daenerys liked that her appearance pleased Sansa. She felt like skipping this dinner altogether and instead inviting Sansa to dine alone with her again. Swallowing the words, she sighed and looked out towards the hall.
"I see they are already staring," Sansa said with a look around. "Has Jon seen you yet?"
"No, he hasn't arrived."
"Good. I want to see his face when he first sees you." Sansa reached for her goblet and a servant promptly filled it with wine.
"You seem to be in good spirits, Lady Sansa. I like it," said Daenerys, turning to face her.
Sansa looked as if she were about to reply but out of the corner of her eye Daenerys saw Jon enter the Great Hall and quickly turned to look at his expression. It was a mixture of shock, brooding, and attraction, as only Jon Snow could do. Directing a glance at Sansa, she saw that Sansa was having a hard time suppressing the smirk on her face. Daenerys had better control and coolly watched him approach the high table and take his seat to her right. He wanted her and this time Daenerys found it incredibly satisfying that he couldn't hide it. She leaned over and whispered in Sansa's ear.
"You were right."
Sansa smiled and they both looked at the rest of the hall, enjoying how they all stared and whispered amongst themselves. Even Tyrion looked speechless.
"Your Grace, you look very nice," said Jon, trying to start a conversation. Ordinarily she would've jumped at the chance but she was distracted by the presence of a lord who was approaching the high table. He nodded to Jon and then to her but his focus was on Sansa. Daenerys recognized the sigil on the two men behind him as belonging to House Glover. She hadn't realized Glover was visiting Winterfell and made a mental note to chastise Tyrion for not informing her. She kept her attention forward but could overhear his words to Sansa.
"Lady Stark, if I might have a word with you?" he whispered.
"Good evening, Lord Glover, I trust your trip from Deepwood Motte was uneventful and that your men arrived safely. As you can see, not all of our men are here to welcome you as many died in the Battle of Winterfell."
During Sansa's response Daenerys glanced at her and saw the withering glare she gave Glover. She turned away and took a slow sip of wine, relishing how coldly Sansa was speaking with him. Jon looked like he might stand up to direct Glover away from Sansa but Daenerys placed a hand on his arm, warning him to stay seated. She knew Sansa could handle this and she wanted to hear what she had to say.
"Yes," stammered Glover, "My deepest condolences, my lady…"
"Your condolences have been received but they are little comfort considering your failure to stand with House Stark. The North will remember, Lord Glover." Sansa's voice had gotten slightly louder. The hall had quieted a bit and Glover looked around nervously, unsure how to respond.
Sansa continued, "By the way, the queen has promised to send food to resupply our stores, which will be used to resupply those loyal houses who supplied us with grain and men. I suggest you rethink your position on helping the queen with her fight for the throne. The northern army is committed to marching south. You would do well to join us."
It was a dressing down as only Sansa Stark could give and Daenerys enjoyed every word, every breath. The Lady of Winterfell exuding power and strength, criticizing a wayward bannerman, and threatening him into supporting her war against Cersei in front of everyone in the Great Hall. She never wanted to kiss Sansa more than at this moment.
Glover looked nervously at Sansa, Daenerys, and Jon, the three of them staring at him in return.
"Yes, of course, my lady," he replied. Looking to Daenerys he said, "Your Grace, I will speak with you and Lord Snow on the morrow?" Daenerys nodded without a word.
"Thank you, Lord Glover," answered Sansa, and she turned away from him to look at Daenerys.
Daenerys wanted to smile but Glover was still standing and staring at them, dumbfounded. She looked up at him in her harshest glare and he finally understood and walked away.
"You were brilliant, Lady Sansa," whispered Daenerys. She looked out towards Tyrion and raised an eyebrow as if to show off her progress with Lady Stark. He bowed his head slightly in reply and turned back to his brother. Missandei, too, smiled discreetly in acknowledgment of her triumph and went back to talking with Davos.
The rest of the meal went smoothly, the two of them chatting amiably, but not in as familiar a manner as they would have done in private. The sharp contrast made Daenerys keenly aware that even the interactions where they'd kept their hands off each other had been more brazen than she'd previously thought. And it felt strange for Daenerys to sit between Jon and Sansa, knowing both reluctantly wanted her, knowing she wanted them, Jon a deep abiding flame and Sansa unpredictable like wildfire. She had gotten used to keeping her emotions in check around Jon in public but it was different with Sansa. It had been absolutely excruciating for Daenerys to keep up the indifferent friendliness after the encounter with Lord Glover. Sansa had publicly demonstrated her support and while it wasn't exactly a pledge of fealty, Daenerys still felt like she could fly.
*::::*
When it was time to retire, Daenerys offered to walk Sansa back to her rooms and instead of declining, Sansa welcomed the opportunity to be with Daenerys away from prying eyes. Sansa thought again of Glover and how she had spoken to him. Surprisingly, she didn't regret it at all, even knowing she was supposed to be reaching out to him to shore up a private alliance against the Dragon Queen. His presence bothered her and her thoughts went to Theon and the others who had lost their lives. At least Daenerys fought with them, she had even lost one of her closest friends and had to fight against one of her own dragons, whom she considered a son. Glover didn't deserve any kindness.
The walk to Sansa's rooms was mostly silent, with several shy smiles directed at each other. Daenerys had asked Grey Worm to stay far behind and Sansa was glad that it was essentially just the two of them. Away from everyone, Sansa couldn't help but admire how Daenerys looked. Everything about her was so enticing, the loose waves of her hair, the grey color of her dress against her pale skin. This is crazy, Sansa, stop it.
Once at Sansa's bedchamber door, they stood awkwardly, not sure how to say goodnight.
"Thank you for what you said to Lord Glover. I will be sure to pass on your threat to Tyrion. No food will be given to House Glover or any northern house that did not fight with us here unless they contribute in some way to the march south."
"Perhaps it should be less threat and more like incentive? I'd gotten angry at him and spoke harshly."
"Of course, Lady Sansa," smiled Daenerys. "Incentivizing preferred behavior is a better way of putting it. But to be a queen means to occasionally make threats. You and I both know it isn't always loyalty that motivates men. To be queen is to be tested constantly by those wondering where you would draw the line, how far would you go to protect what was yours. And once you draw that line, Lady Sansa, you need to defend it."
Sansa could see there was humor mixed in with the seriousness on Daenerys's face.
"Are you giving me lessons on how to be a queen? Do you think I would be a good one?" Sansa said with a small smile. She'd meant it as lighthearted humor but Daenerys's eyes darkened in that way they did during their encounter in the snow and her heart stopped.
"I think you would be a formidable queen, Sansa. Smart, intimidating, beautiful…" Daenerys replied thoughtfully, one hand reaching for a loose strand of Sansa's hair, but then she caught herself and brought her hand down before touching her.
Sansa felt an odd disappointment that Daenerys had held back her hand but also a thrill at Daenerys's informal use of her name and being called beautiful. The awkward silence returned.
"Why do you think Lord Glover wanted to speak privately with you?" Daenerys asked, breaking the silence. Sansa frowned.
"I suspect to speak more of his unhappiness about Jon bending the knee. But as far as I'm concerned he betrayed Jon by not staying here to fight with us," huffed Sansa angrily. "Do you mind if we not talk about Lord Glover? The thought of him continues to irritate me."
"Of course," Daenerys nodded. Then she smiled playfully, took a few steps back and twirled. It was girlish and innocent and Sansa couldn't help the warmth that filled her. "So, I would say the dress left quite the impression, as you predicted."
Sansa laughed. "Yes, although I should've thought about what it implied about your relationship with Jon. I'm sure more than one person understood it as a projection of an impending union between the two of you. I apologize if my suggestion made things more complicated for you."
"I did think of that beforehand so there's no need for apologies. The complication was well worth the looks on all their faces," answered Daenerys with a grin. "Shall we to Winter town tomorrow?"
"Yes, that would be wonderful," answered Sansa, looking again at Daenerys's dress. If Daenerys remembered to give her the dress tomorrow would it still smell like her? The thought made her mouth open slightly with yearning.
"Goodnight then," said Daenerys, one hand taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Sansa's heart began racing immediately. Everything about their encounters rushed back to her, the attraction, the something more that tugged at her heart. Sansa looked into Daenerys's eyes and for the first time was absolutely certain Daenerys wasn't deceiving her. Right now, this moment, she's resisting me. The whole day she has resisted and it reveals the truth. She really is attracted to me. Has my resistance revealed this truth to her as well? At least she is not pushing the way she did last night. She knows it's not a good idea.
"Goodnight, your Grace," she said, pulling her hand away and opening her door, glancing once more into Daenerys's eyes before walking into her room. She turned around to say something but Daenerys had already begun walking away and Sansa closed her door, more confused than ever.
*::::*
Someone gasped. Sansa's hands searched and felt soft skin and a silky wetness pressed against her thigh. She couldn't see a face but she knew it was a woman. A wave of pleasure washed over her and Sansa sat up but couldn't move because of the person on top of her. Sansa blinked a few times and then she saw that it was Daenerys, who smiled at her, pressed one finger against her lips, and pushed her back down on her bed. She felt hands rub her body, beginning with her neck, down over her breasts, and back up again.
"Daenerys," Sansa whispered, and then in a burst of power she flipped them over so that she now straddled the Dragon Queen. But then it wasn't Daenerys anymore, it was Tyrion, and she felt his hardness between her legs. While surprised, this did not stop her from rubbing against him. His hands were at her breasts, pinching her nipples and she was suddenly close, his name on her lips. But when she leaned her head back, Sansa was laying with her back on the bed again, someone's hands spreading her legs open, a hot tongue pleasuring her. Sansa looked down and saw long silvery white hair spread across her belly. It felt amazing and she turned her head to the side only to see Tyrion lying beside her. He kissed her until she was gasping for air but then Daenerys grabbed her hand and he disappeared, Daenerys's mouth not stopping its assault between her legs. It was just the two of them and Sansa was almost there… almost…
Then Sansa sat up, awake. She glanced around her bed and realized it had been a dream. Of course it was a dream, you idiot… both of them at the same time?
Her pulse was still racing and she was breathing hard. Sansa had had dreams about Tyrion but this was the first one with his queen. Her desire for Daenerys was difficult enough to control during the day but now it was expressing itself in her dreams. This was getting out of hand.
*::::*
The next morning, Daenerys walked out to the courtyard to meet a waiting Sansa and two guards. Sansa appeared a bit tired but still happy to see her. Like the previous walk to Winter town, Daenerys only had Grey Worm and another soldier accompany her.
"Good morning, your Grace. And how was Lord Glover's groveling this morning?" asked Sansa with a wicked smirk.
"Sufficiently satisfying, Lady Sansa," smiled Daenerys. "I left Jon to finish up the details. They should be done by now, I think. Shall we be off?"
They turned to walk towards the main gate but before they could walk out, Samwell Tarly appeared and approached them.
"Your Grace, I was wondering if I could have a word?" Sam asked, looking at Daenerys and Sansa, then Brienne and Grey Worm. He seemed nervous. She gave Sansa a look, who walked a few steps away to give them some space. Daenerys knew Sansa could still hear but she didn't mind. She and Sam hadn't really spoken since the night she told him what she did to his father and brother. He'd been devastated and she knew that would be replaced by anger towards her. There was nothing she could say that would make it better, though she knew both Jorah and Jon had tried. Daenerys hadn't asked either of them to do so but Jorah had come to her and told her that, although Sam would need more time, he thought he'd been able to get through to him. Now she would see if that had been true.
"Lord Tyrion approached me and said… well he said that your Grace wanted me to be your Grand Maester…" Samwell nervously babbled and Daenerys gave a small patient smile. "I'm of course flattered, your Grace, but… what I mean to say is… why? Why me?"
"You are an intelligent man, Samwell. And brave. Brave enough to challenge norms by making the attempt to cure Jorah's greyscale and achieving success. It doesn't matter to me that you have a family and I will challenge anyone at the Citadel who takes issue with my appointment. But also…" Daenerys trailed off and sighed. Thoughts of Jorah softened her towards Sam. She wanted to make amends and not just with a lofty position in her council.
"I know what I've done to you," whispered Daenerys, and then in a stronger voice, "My offer to your father was more than generous considering he betrayed his liege, my ally Lady Tyrell, a betrayal that by all rights is punishable by death. I have no regrets there. But your brother… I gave him a choice and he made it. I thought I'd been fair but…"
Samwell's eyes began filling with tears and Daenerys straightened, trying to not let her own tears come to her eyes, but also recognizing that she couldn't be the unfeeling queen right now. The war would eventually end and she needed to be able to show kindness, too. She put her hand on Sam's shoulder.
"You are a good man. I need someone on my small council who can show me that strength doesn't always have to be imposed upon others, that true strength requires a willingness to bend, to look at a thing with different eyes and be open to an alternative solution. I see that now and I wish I had seen it then. I truly do wish it, Sam."
He couldn't respond right away because the tears fell freely and he was trying to control his sobs but Daenerys could tell that he wasn't angry with her. It was as close to an apology as a queen could give her subject and he seemed to recognize that. She looked back at Sansa whose eyes also appeared to be wet and when she looked back at Sam, she saw his eyes flicker to the side and when she turned, she saw Jon watching them. When did he get there?
"Th-th-thank you, your G-grace," Sam said between gasps for breath. Daenerys gave a squeeze to his shoulder and released him.
"So will you serve me, Sam? Will you serve and help me to better serve our people?"
Daenerys saw him give a small nod and then a larger one and then was surprised when he grabbed her hand.
"I will. I will, my Queen," answered Sam. She gripped his hand hard and then pulled away.
"Gilly, little Sam, and I are leaving Winterfell today, to spend time with my mother and sister. I'll tell Lord Tyrion to send word when you require me at King's Landing."
"Good, I hope your travels are safe. Do not feel the need to misrepresent my actions to your family. Be truthful. If they're anything like you, I know they will be fair. And have a proper wedding with Gilly. I don't want anyone challenging your children's names."
"Yes, your Grace. And thank you again," he said, this time with a smile.
Daenerys returned his smile and he walked away, Jon directing one more look at her before rushing to join his friend. She watched them and felt Sansa approach to stand beside her. Sansa didn't say a word but she did take one of her hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze before letting it go. Turning to look at Sansa, she saw that whatever tears had fallen had been wiped away. She smiled at her friend and it felt good to think of Sansa as her friend.
"I take it from your response that you approve of how I handled that?" Daenerys whispered.
"Yes. He will serve you well," whispered Sansa in reply.
Sansa didn't look at her and for a moment looked troubled but then she smiled brightly and said, "So, Winter town, your Grace?"
"Yes, Lady Sansa. I promised Falon this little figurine of a dragon and can't wait to give it to him," Daenerys replied, feeling within her coat the dragon she had tucked away.
*::::*
After they returned from Winter town, Sansa headed back to her rooms. With every step, a great heaviness weighed on her. The trip had been cheerful and fun; Falon was delighted with his dragon figurine and Daenerys had even engaged in some light banter with a group of men who had boldly invited her into the tavern with them. The men laughed but maintained a respectful attitude and they entered the tavern alone but with a story to tell about a queen who wasn't afraid to enjoy a bit of humor. The memory of it made Sansa smile but the heaviness reminded her that Arya was waiting for her in her bedchamber.
Sansa quietly entered her room and saw Arya leaning against her bed.
"Ready?"
She nodded in reply and went to sit down at the chair next to her small table. Sansa only vaguely listened as Arya described the plan. It was to happen at the next trip to Winter town. Now that Daenerys only took two guards with her, and those guards along with Sansa's guards brought up the rear, Arya would wear a face and approach from the front. Sansa would be able to tell because she would wear a hooded cloak with a bit of red flashing from underneath. Using a rough but clean dagger, she would quickly stab Daenerys in the heart and then stab Sansa in the shoulder, leaving the knife behind.
"It'll hurt, Sansa, but I promise it will heal without any permanent damage. Just remember to struggle and scream to help keep the guards' focus on you."
Sansa nodded wordlessly. After stabbing them Arya would quickly turn around and rush through the side streets, shedding the face and cloak in predetermined locations, and putting on a different face, never stopping until she was deeply hidden in the town. In the chaos, she would eventually make her way back to Winterfell through the Hunter's Gate, having exited through the gate earlier that morning stating her intentions for a hunt. She'd been going hunting nearly every day, sometimes coming back with game, sometimes not, but it was a known routine and her alibi would be believed.
Arya finished talking and waited for Sansa to respond but Sansa didn't know what to say. The pit in her stomach felt like an abyss and the guilt blanketed her. Tyrion had been right. Sansa was acting like Littlefinger, shaping the kingdom to her own liking and murdering anyone who got in the way. Because that's what this was. Not justice for their family. Murder.
"Do you feel guilty at all?" asked Sansa, her voice hollow.
"No. I mean, I've not been spending time with her. You have. You know her. If you still think this is our best course of action to keep our family and the North safe then I trust you and will gladly do it for us, for the pack."
Sansa stared at her but eventually nodded.
"Are you certain, Sansa?"
She nodded again, letting her fear and the momentum of previous plotting and planning carry her forward rather than a true belief in the righteousness of their actions. Arya stared at her but then nodded herself and left the room, leaving Sansa alone with her guilt.
