A/N: Thanks for the lovely comments btw. I'm glad the tension comes through. I've worked hard at making it feel real.


Chapter 12

After Daenerys left the room, Sansa got ready for the day. She wanted time to be alone so she got dressed to go riding, sending a servant to Brienne to relay the message about her plans and to meet her at the stables. It would just be a ride around Winterfell's perimeter, just to clear her head.

At the stables, she greeted Brienne but she was in no mood to talk. Brienne, as always, understood and together they rode out of the south gate and turned right.

Thoughts swirled in Sansa's mind. If Arya knew about last night she'd be yelling at her right now. If Littlefinger were here he'd first admonish her for letting her emotions get the better of her and then he would congratulate her on a scheme well done, for figuring out how to deceive Daenerys into trusting her. Sansa angrily spurred her horse into a gallop and Brienne followed silently behind. They were soon past the Hunter's Gate.

It's not my fault Daenerys is too trusting. She should've known better. She should've listened to her advisors. She knows who I am and what I wanted.

Sansa slowed her horse and had to bite her cheek to keep from screaming, feeling the metallic taste she'd become very much familiar with over the years. This morning, feeling Daenerys next to her, underneath her arm and leg… for a split second she had been tempted. Two choices: continue or pull away. Sansa had pulled away but Daenerys had wanted her to continue, her sigh indeed filled with disappointment. Daenerys was so soft and she smelled so good, if she had been bolder… if she had had less scruples. Oh so you'll kill her but you won't fuck her, Sansa imagined Cersei saying to her. Tsk tsk, little dove, thinking she can play like the rest of us.

Shaking her head and halting her horse, Sansa growled out sharply, her horse whinnying unhappily. She was trying to suppress what she was feeling but she couldn't. She turned her horse towards the Wolfswood, staring out towards where she had straddled Daenerys and saw desire in Daenerys's eyes for the first time. Had Daenerys seen the same look in hers? Had it surprised her as much as it did Sansa? And then that dinner in her solar later that night… Sansa smiled at the memory. More could've happened then, too, if she'd let it, if she hadn't been so afraid. But now it was too late.

"My lady, are you all right?" Brienne called out, her horse pulling up alongside.

"I'm fine," Sansa answered. "I'm sorry, let's go back. I'm too distracted for this ride."

"Yes, my lady. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Sansa was tempted to tell her everything but she shook her head. No one could know. No one would ever know about her feelings for Daenerys Stormborn.

"No, thank you, Ser Brienne. No one can help me."

And with that Sansa turned her horse to return through the Hunter's Gate. She had skipped the morning meal but she would clean up and go to the midday one. Sansa didn't want to avoid Daenerys again. She couldn't be weak. Having passed the sentence, she would feel every part of this because it was her responsibility. She hoped when Arya stabbed her shoulder tomorrow that there would be permanent damage. She deserved this suffering.

After she'd returned her horse to the stables, she parted from Brienne and made her way to her rooms. Dark thoughts distracted her and she didn't notice Missandei waiting for her in her corridor until she spoke.

"Lady Stark, may I speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course, Lady Missandei. I've asked for servants to bring a bath so it will have to be short. Here, let's use my solar."

Once inside, she gestured towards chairs but Missandei shook her head.

"This won't take long. I just… if you'll forgive my boldness, her Grace has become quite taken with her friendship with you. And I wondered if you realized how that puts her in a precarious position with the other northern lords."

"You are correct, that is very bold of you to say," replied Sansa, her jaw clenched, eyes like steel. Did Daenerys tell her? How much does she know?

Sansa had expected Missandei to respond with defensiveness or even anger but she only smiled.

"I see why she likes you. You are both strong, intelligent women. And you both know how tarnished reputations can be difficult to overcome. But unlike you, she didn't grow up with friends so her attachments to the ones she trusts are very strong. Our Queen feels loss a bit more acutely than most."

"What is your point exactly?" Sansa asked.

"I think you know what I'm saying, Lady Stark. I only wish to protect her. And if you care for her at all, you will do the same."

Missandei bowed her head and left the room. Sansa scowled in anger but then it quickly deflated. She knew Missandei was only looking out for her friend, as she should. The guilt returned and she walked into her bedchamber, waiting for the servants to bring the bath and trying to swallow back her nausea. What is it going to feel like after tomorrow when she's gone?

*::::*

Daenerys sat at the high table wondering if Sansa would skip this meal, too. Missandei told her that Sansa had been out riding but that it had been of short duration.

She's disturbed by what happened. As much as I'd like to I can't push her. I will have to alleviate her worry.

Sansa walked in and Daenerys felt a surge of warmth move through her. She had to look down to calm herself. Others would notice and she couldn't let anyone see how she felt, how the Lady of Winterfell affected her.

"Good day, your Grace," said Sansa cheerfully, sitting in Jon's chair alongside Daenerys.

"Good day, Lady Sansa. How was your ride?"

"Bracing," chuckled Sansa and then she gave a knowing look to Daenerys.

Hmmm, she thought. At least she's not going to pretend it didn't happen.

"It really is all right, Lady Sansa. It was entirely innocent; restlessness, nothing more."

"Not entirely," Sansa answered after a pause, eyes hinting at deeper desires. She looked as if she wanted to say more but instead turned to the plate the servant had brought to her and began eating. Daenerys went back to eating as well, dying to know what Sansa had been about to say.

After they'd eaten, Sansa turned to her and discretely grabbed her hand under the table, giving it a squeeze before letting go.

"I have much to do today but I wanted to confirm tomorrow's outing to Winter town."

"Of course. But I'll also see you tonight here at dinner?"

"Of course," she replied. She had the look of a cornered animal needing to escape but then her expression quickly calmed.

"I will see you later then," said Daenerys softly. Sansa only nodded and walked away.

There's something else going on. Something she's hiding.

Daenerys left the Great Hall and walked back to her rooms. She felt troubled by the encounter at the midday meal. Sansa had surreptitiously squeezed her hand, implying intimacy and friendship, but her eyes were cold, her entire countenance stiff and forced. She hadn't been that way since before their race through the Wolfswood.

*::::*

Sansa did go to the Great Hall for the dinner meal but she was back to wearing her icy mask and only exchanged a few words with Daenerys. She couldn't bring herself to do more and she was thankful when Daenerys rose, spoke to Missandei, and left early. Arya avoided looking at Sansa all evening but after Daenerys left, she gave her a nod and then left, too.

"You look positively miserable, Sansa," Tyrion whispered beside her. "Can I do anything?"

"Lord Tyrion… I didn't see your approach."

"Which proves my point about your mood and I will ask again…"

"No," Sansa interrupted, standing up. "Excuse me, I am tired."

He bowed in response and she walked out of the hall. Sansa was going to retire to her rooms but decided she wanted to see the Godswood. It was a clear night, the stars shining brightly. It would be peaceful there and her heart and mind desperately needed peace tonight. She called to a servant and asked that he get her cloak and gloves.

Sansa was in the Godswood for at least an hour when she heard footsteps approaching. When she turned, she saw Daenerys and in spite of her inner turmoil, Sansa was pleased to see how this woman sought her out even when they'd made no plans. A smile broke out on Daenerys's face in return and Sansa could see her shoulders relax. She'd been nervous about approaching me, Sansa thought.

"It is breathtaking here at night," said Daenerys softly, looking around and up at the stars as she walked towards Sansa.

"Yes it is," replied Sansa, her eyes remaining on Daenerys, this time not hiding her admiration. The color of her hair, how the fur of her white coat, the one she wore when she and Jon first rode into Winterfell, looked so soft against the snowy backdrop of the Godswood. But before Daenerys could see what she'd been thinking, she looked down.

"How did you know where I was?" asked Sansa.

"I asked Missandei to let me know where you were after you left the hall," Daenerys answered. "I apologize for intruding, Lady Sansa. You just seemed out of sorts today and I wanted to make sure you were all right. If this morning made you uncomfortable…"

"Not at all, your Grace. I'm sorry for giving you that impression. Last night was fun and I hadn't laughed so much in years. And this morning was as you said, restlessness. There is much on my mind, that is all." The darkness fell across her again and she saw Daenerys's brow furrow in concern.

"Such as?"

Sansa turned back to the weirwood tree and sighed. "The North," she answered simply, a little coldness creeping into her voice.

"I see. Thinking of ways to wring independence from me?"

She knew it was meant as a joke but Sansa looked at her in shock and a bit of anger. "It isn't something to laugh at. Our hearts bled to win Winterfell back, to win our independence. And we deserve it. When Jon came to you he gave us no indication of how negotiations with you were going. He made a unilateral decision without consulting me."

"He was your king, Sansa," said Daenerys.

"Maybe he shouldn't have been," answered Sansa bitterly. Exasperated, she turned back to the weirwood tree, expecting to be yelled at, expecting Daenerys to storm away. Instead Daenerys walked closer and took her hand in hers.

"Is this really what you've been thinking about?"

Sansa turned back to her, feeling the sudden closeness. Daenerys had removed her gloves but Sansa still wore hers. The parallel wasn't lost on her… Daenerys open and trusting, Sansa closed off and wary. Would it be the worst thing in the world to let go? To let Daenerys rule over her?

"Play a game with me, your Grace. A thought exercise, if you will. Imagine that I refuse to yield; that while the northern army is helping you to dethrone Cersei, I stay here and rally the northern hold-outs to me." Daenerys tried to pull her hand away but Sansa held tightly.

"I call on my Uncle Edmure, I appeal to the Vale. We gather our forces and I declare Jon Snow a traitor to the North, a bastard who gave away our kingdom and who should never have been our king. You do not want to reveal his parentage so neither of you dispute his bastardy. We ask you to recognize the North as an independent kingdom, for our service to the realm; for all that we've suffered. What would you do?" Sansa's breath was ragged and her heart was racing. She had just revealed a set of choices that she had seriously considered before settling on the plot with Arya.

"Sansa, you should stop this…" Daenerys's eyes were wide and Sansa saw fear and flashes of anger. She looked confused, not understanding why Sansa would say such things.

"No. Answer me. You wanted to know what I've been thinking. The twists and turns of the game, of course. Everyone is my friend. Everyone is my enemy. I anticipate good intentions as well as bad." Sansa imagined that her eyes were looking wild and fearful but she couldn't stop herself now. She needed to know; needed to see. "If I take this path, what happens? What happens, your Grace?"

Daenerys squeezed her hands tightly then took a deep breath and said, "You are leading a rebellion. And rebellions must be stamped out. War is declared."

"You don't want to use your dragons right away, you've just barely won the people and you don't want to rule by fear. But you've already lost half your forces, and the Dothraki and Unsullied don't have your diplomacy. Violence and power is what they understand."

Daenerys slipped into the rhythm of the game and parried with, "Jon's forces that are loyal to him fight you anyway. The Westerosi armies that have knelt to me, and my Dothraki and Unsullied, fight you. It is bloody, brother against brother, many die. But I don't use my dragons."

"A foolish decision. I'm not sure I believe this would be your true choice. It would save lives to crush us decisively. But let's say you do hold them back. Many die. You win. Our forces are little after all. You reestablish control over the North. Then what?"

"Any lords still alive are permitted to return to their homes after they've bent the knee. Jon returns as Warden and Lord Paramount of the North to keep everyone in line."

"Weakness, your Grace. Many have shown their fealty to be flexible and they cannot be trusted. Jon also doesn't hold their respect. But your past actions with the Tarlys make you reluctant to be harsh so I'll allow it. What do you do with me, a traitor?"

"My prisoner at the Red Keep."

Sansa scoffed and pulled her hands away. "Another foolish decision. I would always be a figurehead, someone for the North to rally around."

"Keeping you hostage could keep them in line, a threat to you being a threat to them," Daenerys argued.

"True, but they would still come after you. Assassins and the like. You wouldn't be safe. As you said, rebellions must be stamped out."

"I've survived assassination attempts before. I am not afraid. You remain my prisoner." Daenerys reached for her hands again but Sansa frowned down at them, confused.

"It doesn't make sense, your Grace. I'm a traitor of the worst kind. I smiled, lied, worked myself into your favor, made you trust me, then when your back was turned I moved against you."

"But I would understand your reasons. I know your fear. At King's Landing, I would prove myself a good queen and I could change your mind, I could win you over eventually." Sansa saw a hint of a smile on Daenerys's lips but it dropped away at Sansa's expression.

Sansa was breathing harder now, lost in the possibilities, imagined scenes of charred and mangled bodies spurring her on. "But I refuse. I'm a traitor. I went to war against you. You must burn me. It's the only way to end it. Your advisors do everything in their power to convince you."

"Not Tyrion, not Jon," countered Daenerys.

Sansa shook her head. "But even they recognize that as long as I'm alive, you wouldn't be safe. Dorne and the Iron Islands see how lenient you were with the northern traitors and seize their chance. You are now fighting a war on multiple fronts. You have to use the dragons now. And executing me would give your enemies pause."

"I can find another way," Daenerys insisted.

"Rebel lords reorganize, gather new forces…" Sansa kept going, pointing out the flaws.

"No…" Daenerys shook her head, her body stiffening. Sansa saw the discomfort, the near desperation.

"They know they can't win but like me they can't find it within themselves to yield…"

"I could… no… never mind. I wouldn't do that." A look of shame came over Daenerys's face.

"What?" asked Sansa harshly. "Marry me off to a loyal, simpering lord? Bind me forever to a man who will look down on me as a traitor? It is smart. I would be cowed. Remember, your Grace, I am a traitor and a traitor's daughter."

"No marriage. I would never do that. Not to you. We continue our talks. I can make you see who I am, Sansa." Sansa could hear the pleading mixed with doubt.

Sansa closed her eyes and said, "It's not enough. I am for a free North and can't ever kneel to you." The words were regretful, and she could barely get them out, but somehow she managed to sound resolute.

"Stop. Why are you so stubborn?" Sansa felt Daenerys's hands placed on either side of her face. She could feel the trembling in Daenerys's fingers.

"Attempts are made to rescue me…" said Sansa weakly, opening her eyes but turning slightly into Daenerys's hands. How can her hands be so soft?

"And I would burn anyone that tried to take you from me!" exclaimed Daenerys loudly, rage rising up at last, body pressing up against hers.

Daenerys eyed her lips and Sansa knew what she wanted, could see the possessiveness take hold. She knew that look well and it chilled her. But unlike those other times with men who thought to possess her, Sansa felt a tingle of want, too; an urge to surrender. Sansa quickly pushed it down and waited and watched as Daenerys closed her eyes, face contorting as she tried to breathe and control her emotions. It fascinated her to see Daenerys fight against her temper. It wasn't losing the North that did it; it was the thought of losing me.

Sansa slowly pressed her forehead against Daenerys's while taking the slightest step back to place distance between their torsos. It had felt too good to feel Daenerys's body against her. Daenerys's hands dropped to hold her on her waist and Sansa brought her own hands to gently hold Daenerys's upper arms. Sansa breathed softly against her, suddenly sorry for pushing so hard. But she wanted to see her anger again, she wanted to see Cersei. It was there, wasn't it? She'd seen Cersei in her before, hadn't she? Increasing the pressure of their touching foreheads, Sansa felt the cracks in her resolve deepen. Did she really want a quarrel on their last night together?

When Daenerys pulled her face back to look at her, Sansa offered a small smile. Their hands stayed where they were.

"It was just a game, wasn't it, Lady Sansa?" Daenerys asked, searching Sansa's face.

"Of course, your Grace," answered Sansa, looking straight into her vulnerable eyes, forcing her features into kindness.

"Is that the path you're going to choose?" Daenerys whispered.

"No."

"But you do still want a free North."

"I do," sighed Sansa. Daenerys's face became sad and she slowly stepped back and made as if to leave. But Sansa wasn't ready for the night with her to end.

"Wait. Would you accompany me on my walk back to my rooms, your Grace?"

They walked silently out of the Godswood and to Sansa's rooms. It was not uncomfortable exactly but they each seemed to prefer their own thoughts to frivolous conversation. The scenario that Sansa posited didn't reveal much that she didn't already know. Except for the end when Daenerys refused to admit that she would burn her as a traitor. Sansa could see that Daenerys's instincts were to try to find a way out of it, at great cost to her security and the lives of others. Sansa didn't know how to feel about that. Or she did but didn't want to admit it. Instead she focused on how Daenerys chose not to yield her position in the face of the rebellion. At least there was that and she clung to it as if Daenerys's refusal to bend was enough to justify her actions.

When they reached her rooms, they faced each other to say goodnight.

"Lady Sansa, I wonder if in your thought exercises, do you ever ponder the costs of your own stubbornness? If everyone is your friend and your enemy, there's no room to place your faith in anyone. Surely by now you have seen the kind of queen I will be. And I know you, too. I know giving up control to another is something that is extremely difficult for you. In these hypothetical thoughts, do you wonder that it is not consideration for the North and its people but your own pride and fear that hold you back from accepting me?"

Daenerys was being reasonable and forgiving. Sansa's game earlier should've angered her but instead she was trying to appease her and while Sansa wasn't exactly surprised, it was not what she wanted right now. She did not want Daenerys to be reasonable.

"Yes, I have. In recent days, I've thought on those things quite frequently," answered Sansa truthfully. "But have you ever seriously considered my stance as well? If there was a compromise, would you consider it?"

"Could you? You seem quite fixated on independence. I admit that I have been moved by the North's plight after everything I've seen here," replied Daenerys softly. She reached a hand to Sansa's cheek. "Don't misunderstand me. I still want the seven kingdoms to remain together. But I can make it easier for you, Sansa."

"Your Grace…" Her eyes darted to Daenerys's lips and then back up to her eyes. That last sentence, said with such softness and promise. Sansa's heart began to race.

"I won't keep you from sleep any longer," Daenerys suddenly said, and then she stepped closer to place a soft kiss on Sansa's cheek, just beside where Daenerys's thumb was, close to the corner of her mouth. Then she pulled back and for several moments they stared breathlessly into each other's eyes, and Sansa wanted to invite her inside. Just one more night of conversation and closeness. One more night to keep the darkness away. And Daenerys looked willing; she would say yes if Sansa asked.

Before she could speak, Daenerys said, "I'll see you tomorrow, Lady Sansa. Goodnight."

"Yes, tomorrow. Goodnight, your Grace."

Winter town. Arya will be there. Sansa held back a sob as she watched Daenerys walk away down the corridor and then she entered her bedchamber. In a daze, she undressed and prepared herself for sleep. She was about to get into bed when she turned and walked to the chest which stored her many needlework projects. Opening it, she removed the grey dress that she had offered to embroider for Daenerys. The morning after Daenerys had brought it to her and spent the night, Sansa had quickly put it in the chest, not wanting to look at it. But now, she let her fingers graze over the soft-spun wool, remembering how Daenerys had looked in it during the needlepoint lesson and later that night in the Great Hall, how people had gawked and even lusted for her. Bringing a hand to the cheek where Daenerys kissed her, Sansa closed her eyes. Then she brought the dress up to her face to breathe it in. Another sob rose up in her throat but it was far away, somewhere it could barely touch her, as if her body recognized the impending breakdown and decided to numb itself on reflex. And as she carefully folded the dress, Sansa forced the detachment to spread. No feeling, no pain. She placed the dress back in her trunk and got into bed.

Once under the covers, Sansa lay on her back and resisted the urge to touch her cheek again. It didn't matter and she couldn't let it matter, repeating in her mind that it was for the North. She was doing it for the North. Sansa hoped for a dreamless sleep and ignored the tears streaming down the sides of her face.

*::::*

Daenerys entered her bedchamber and Missandei was waiting for her as she had instructed her to do earlier during the dinner meal.

"Missandei, go to Lord Varys and bring him to my solar. I know it's late but I need him to tell me if Lady Sansa has gone to the rookery more often than usual in recent days. If she's sent ravens to the other northern lords, I want to know which ones and the contents of those messages if possible."

"What's happened, your Grace?"

"I saw a side of Sansa Stark I haven't seen before," Daenerys muttered.

She stood there thinking, scowling. Did she really have reason to doubt Sansa? Being calculating and able to anticipate the moves of her enemies didn't necessarily mean Sansa herself intended treachery against her. It was true they had grown close in such a short amount of time, perhaps too short. But after this morning in her bed, it would be only natural for Sansa to feel the need to reestablish the boundaries between them and their opposing ambition. And yet, that scenario was very detailed, as if it were something Sansa had seriously thought through.

"It is probably nothing, Missandei. I just want to know for sure."


A/N: So much at stake, so much tension between our ladies. Next chapter is Winter town. Eek!