Chapter 15

Daenerys woke to the sounds of sobbing and thrashing in the bed beside her. It was still night and for a moment she didn't know where she was but then she remembered the lemon cakes and that she was in Sansa's bed. She raised herself up on her left arm and reached her right hand for Sansa, gently grasping her shoulder.

"Sansa, shhh, it's alright, you're safe," Daenerys whispered.

"No," said Sansa in a muffled voice, "Don't…. Don't!" Sansa sat up suddenly and looked around. Daenerys sat up, too, and in the dim candlelight saw Sansa's wild, tear-filled eyes. She looked at her without recognition and then broke down into sobs, raising up her knees and putting her head down against them. Daenerys didn't know what to do and put a hand on her back but Sansa quickly turned and slapped her hand away.

"Don't touch me!" snapped Sansa.

That's when Sansa seemed to recognize her and the angry look in her eyes was replaced by remorse. She looked so lost, as if there was no comfort for her anywhere, and Daenerys opened her arms and Sansa threw herself into them, sobbing against her.

"I'm sorry, Daenerys," muttered Sansa, between sobs. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know you… I didn't know… don't leave… don't leave me…"

"Shhh, it's alright, I'm here. You're safe. The nightmare is over," said Daenerys soothingly, rubbing Sansa's back, brushing back the strands of hair from Sansa's face.

They lay down together, Daenerys still holding Sansa, Sansa's head resting on her shoulder. She placed gentle kisses on the top of Sansa's head and when Sansa looked up at her, Daenerys feathered small kisses along her forehead. Sansa's eyes were still wet but she seemed clear-headed now, and very aware of how they were pressed together. Without warning, Sansa leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss on her mouth but before Daenerys could respond she pulled away and put her head back on her shoulder.

"Thank you, Daenerys," whispered Sansa.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

Sansa shook her head and brought an arm around Daenerys's midsection and held her tightly.

They stayed that way for a while and occasionally Daenerys would feel a silent sob against her. She felt helpless and unsure and didn't know what she could do to bring Sansa out of this. Perhaps Sansa needed a distraction.

"You are a very strong woman, Sansa. All who know you admire you. I admire you. How you love and defend your family. How you stand up for the North. The first moment I saw you when I came to Winterfell, I knew Jon had not described you adequately. I knew I was looking at someone who should have been a queen."

"What did he say?"

"He said you had suffered and had come out of it stronger. That you were suspicious of strangers and would not be happy he had bent the knee. But that was a given. He didn't describe your heart, your intelligence, the way you carry yourself."

"I was awful to you."

"Yes, you were," laughed Daenerys. "But I shouldn't have let it bother me as much as it did. I should've expected it. I see now that you were right to be suspicious. You had fought so hard to get back to your home, your true home under Stark rule, had carefully pieced the North back together and declared your independence with Jon as your king, and before you all could settle in with your kingdom and what that meant, Jon bends the knee and gives it away. I'm surprised you were as polite as you were."

"He was right to bend the knee, though," said Sansa, looking up at her.

"I'm glad you finally think so," Daenerys replied softly, returning Sansa's look.

"I wouldn't have done it."

"No, you wouldn't have. But that's what I like about you, Sansa. Your stubbornness."

"It gets me into trouble, though," answered Sansa regretfully. Then she pulled out of Daenerys's arms to lie back on her own pillow, wiping her eyes and cheeks. "Do you have any regrets, your Grace?"

Daenerys turned on her side and thought on Sansa's question, noting Sansa's return to using her title. Not having Sansa in her arms made her feel cold but she ignored her disappointment. The important thing was Sansa, who Daenerys thought looked sufficiently recovered from her nightmare yet still uneasy.

"I suppose it's too easy to speak of the obvious one about trusting a witch to save Drogo. Of course I regret that. I have many regrets but a recent one is the Tarlys. After that talk with Sam, I feel a bit more at peace but it still remains. Do you think I did wrong? Do I deserve Sam's forgiveness?" Daenerys was both interested and afraid of Sansa's opinion.

"Randyll Tarly betrayed Lady Olenna, who declared for you." Daenerys heard the harshness in Sansa's voice and remembered that Sansa knew the older woman, had known her granddaughter.

"Was your friendship with Margaery Tyrell like ours?" she asked quietly. It was a forward question, and one she shouldn't ask if she wanted to stay within their agreed terms of friendship, but she was curious. Daenerys knew that Sansa had said she'd never kissed a woman (which made the other day in Winter town the first time) or thought of being with a woman until her, but that didn't mean there hadn't been feelings that a young Sansa in King's Landing didn't recognize or tried to suppress.

Sansa's eyes widened but instead of answering right away, she seemed thoughtful.

"No, not like ours," Sansa answered with a knowing smile. "But I don't think I ever considered it like that before. I suppose given what I know now of myself, perhaps something could've happened with Margaery if events had unfolded differently. There were looks and words that I didn't fully understand. But I was young and naïve then and she had her eye on other goals. I did care for her, though. I miss her. I think you would've liked her."

As Daenerys listened to Sansa speak, she liked how Sansa hadn't tried to sidestep her question, instead answering with open acknowledgement of their attraction and how it revealed an aspect about herself that was not unwelcome. There was none of the discomfort and restraint Sansa had shown in Daenerys's solar when she had said she'd only wanted to stay friends. And if Daenerys had felt a twinge of jealousy before at Sansa's past with Margaery, it was now replaced by gratitude that there had been at least one friend who served as a bright spot in Sansa's tortuous time in King's Landing.

"I'm sure I would have. I did very much like her grandmother," Daenerys replied sincerely. But then thoughts of Lady Olenna brought her mind back to the Tarlys and Daenerys frowned.

"If you're thinking about the son Dickon, you gave him a choice, your Grace. It's more than Cersei would've done. It is harsh but on the battlefield, those choices are made, too. Put down the sword and walk away or fight and potentially die. He fought against you and he wouldn't kneel. I know that I have said disapproving things in the past but in truth, when I think about what I would've done, I cannot fault you completely."

Daenerys nodded. She knew there were no easy answers but she was glad to hear that Sansa recognized those complexities.

"You are being too kind and have forgotten one important fact. They were prisoners. Care and proper treatment was my duty."

"And your regret means you understand that and want to do better."

Daenerys smiled at how Sansa tried to cast her in the best light. It felt good and she wanted to deserve it. She wanted to deserve her.

"And you, Lady Sansa? Your biggest regrets?"

"Going to King's Landing and leaving Winterfell. Or not defending Arya against Joffrey on the way to King's Landing. Take your pick," answered Sansa quickly, and then she laughed but there was an edge to it that made Daenerys feel like that those weren't the only regrets that came to her. She waited patiently to see if Sansa would tell her what was really on her mind.

"Few alive know this," whispered Sansa, staring up at the ceiling.

"I swear never to reveal what you share with me, my lady," answered Daenerys, wondering what it was that tore at Sansa's heart so.

"In King's Landing, my father realized we should leave and he made plans for us to do so. It meant I wouldn't be marrying Joffrey and I was horrified. My stupid childhood had been filled with fantasies of knights and songs and I wanted to be queen; to give my king storybook princes and princesses. My father was going to take that dream away from me. I treated him horribly. I should've been a dutiful daughter and obeyed without question."

Daenerys could hear the knot that had formed in Sansa's throat and saw the tears falling from her eyes.

"He was eventually arrested and I thought I could trust her. I thought she was on my side and would help me. She was a beautiful queen and she had a beautiful son, and I was so blind."

Cersei. Daenerys felt the rage smoldering within, wanting to burn to ash this evil woman that had helped to break Sansa Stark.

"She said if I wrote a letter to my brother Robb, denouncing my father as a traitor and asking that Robb bend the knee, that Joffrey would be merciful towards my father. But he executed him anyway and I had betrayed him, I had betrayed my father. I wish I could've seen then what I see now. Maybe we would've made it out. Maybe my father would still be alive. Maybe my whole family would be. I can't help but to blame myself."

"No, Lady Sansa. Not yours. You were a child."

"A child who should have been loyal and obedient to her father."

"An innocent child who was manipulated. Your father was an honorable man and was no match for the treachery in a royal court. He was betrayed. You were betrayed. It is not your fault."

Sansa sobbed silently and Daenerys pulled her back into her arms. She comforted her with soothing words and soft caresses but kept her kisses away. That is not what Sansa needed. They fell asleep like that and when they awoke the next morning, neither expressed any regret for the way their bodies lay intertwined.

*::::*

In the morning, after Daenerys had left, Sansa dressed and sat at the chair by the window. The nightmare had been so vivid and she couldn't shake those images, a warped version of what would've happened in Winter town had she not stopped it. The assailant, not Arya this time but some other ghoulish thing, had been relentless. She and Daenerys could not get away. She'd screamed and begged the thing not to do it but it'd grabbed Daenerys from her and violently stabbed her. Daenerys lay in a pool of blood and then the thing removed his face to reveal Joffrey but it was also Ramsay, who smiled at her before laying the knife at her feet, then walked behind her and grabbed her shoulders. There were shouts in the distance of victory for the North but Sansa began to sob, those hands digging into her back and forcing her down to kneel at Daenerys's side. Sansa had cried for her to come back, that she was sorry, but she was gone. And still the thing or Ramsay or Joffrey pushed her down until she was lying in the blood. She was drowning now and she couldn't break free. Drowning in the blood she'd spilled.

Sansa shook the memory of the dream and took several calming breaths but the guilt of her near-crime remained. It's done, she told herself. She's alive and telling her now would risk the North's position. Sansa tried to focus on the rest of the night. Daenerys had comforted her, had been strong and soothing, and Sansa sank into her arms. They'd talked, confided in each other, and Sansa felt something akin to devotion. This must be what her friend Missandei feels. Because it couldn't be anything else; attraction or not, Sansa couldn't let it be anything else. A smile came to her face, remembering how they devoured the lemon cakes, and she sighed happily.

*::::*

They quickly settled into a routine of seeing each other during meals and Sansa's daily responsibilities. Daenerys would deal with her own responsibilities but her free time became more enveloped with spending time with Sansa. Sansa made her a part of Stark meetings, took her on more tours of the keep, and gave her a more active role in meeting with petitioners. In those Stark meetings, Daenerys didn't just listen, she participated and argued, and didn't feel slighted when challenged or disagreed with. It felt like family. It felt like home, working with Sansa to improve Winterfell, discussing ways to ensure the northern houses stayed aligned. Daenerys felt useful and respected. She learned the layout of Winterfell as if she'd lived there all her life and it was beginning to feel like she had.

When most of the castle had retired, Daenerys would go to Sansa's rooms for the night. Unlike that first night she'd spent in Sansa's bed, the one before their kiss when she'd awoken in the morning in Sansa's arms and pretended that they belonged to each other, it no longer felt like pretend. Daenerys enjoyed their conversations and their laughter. Missandei was her best friend and she loved her dearly but this was different. The intimacy with Sansa was more intense, more revealing, more everything. She wanted Sansa to know every part of her. There would be moments, too, when attraction threatened to overcome them. Usually, they would quickly look away or cover it up with laughter. But sometimes they would allow the heated looks to last for as long as possible until one of them would remember themselves. Those looks burned in ways that Daenerys had never experienced before and she would catch herself raising a hand to caress Sansa's face before realizing what was happening and stopping herself. Sometimes it would be Sansa reaching for her and Sansa would either pull away with a laugh or she would settle for rubbing a thumb across Daenerys's hand. Neither of them discussed that day in Winter town and in her solar when they were unrestrained, when their lips met in want and need. Daenerys thought of it often, though, whenever Sansa lay close to her and she could smell her hair. And that was the other thing that was making it more difficult to hold back, the way they would tangle up in each other in their sleep. It was frustrating but Daenerys also found it comforting. That at least in sleep, their bodies would do what their minds would not allow while awake.

She would walk back to her rooms before dawn, holding her tightly folded up nightgown under one arm, and ignore Missandei's disapproving looks when she'd walked through the door. At least she didn't try to talk Daenerys out of these night visits anymore. Instead she would update Daenerys on any castle news. Daenerys understood the risks involved, political and otherwise, and believed Sansa did, too. It was reckless and selfish and would likely end badly but when earning Sansa's smiles felt this good, it was hard to care.

During their fifth night in a row together, they were under the covers and Sansa was holding Daenerys's hand close to her chest, something she usually did now when she was ready for sleep.

"Thank you, Lady Sansa," said Daenerys suddenly. Sansa's eyes opened, now alert.

"For what, your Grace?"

"For trusting me. How did you know that you could? When did you know?"

Sansa smiled and then it was replaced by a more thoughtful expression. "I don't know. It came on gradually. I suppose the first time I thought we could be friends was when I first came to you proposing these outings together. Do you remember that misunderstanding with the word 'hand'?"

Daenerys laughed. "That early? You were so proud and reserved that day. It surprised me to see it melt away in laughter."

"You surprised me every day, your Grace," said Sansa softly.

"I wish everyone's misconceptions of me and their prejudices could be melted away so easily. Sometimes I worry that I'll never be able to fully win over the people of Westeros. You and the North have given me hope. But then I think about my deeper fears…"

"And what is the Mother of Dragons and Breaker of Chains afraid of?" asked Sansa with a smile.

"I'm afraid I'll be a terrible ruler. That I'll live up to my father's reputation. That in the face of rejection and disagreement I will be a tyrant. You've seen my temper; it comes over me so powerfully. I have to think of my friends, the people who believe in me, to calm myself. It's taken me a while but I accept now that House Targaryen is not above other Houses the way I once believed. We are conquerors. I am a conqueror. I will take the throne because I am strong enough to do it, and because Cersei must be stopped, but do I even deserve it? I have a birthright claim because my family created and held the throne for three hundred years but what is blood and birthright? Nobles and smallfolk alike tear at themselves and each other. There is no difference between them. It is not blood that makes someone better."

Daenerys had gotten lost in her speech and didn't notice that Sansa had sat up. When she stopped talking, she saw Sansa watching her with a strange expression on her face. Her heart pounded as she thought on these things she was revealing to Sansa.

"Lady Sansa, do you know what I wish sometimes, when I'm alone at night with my thoughts and fears? I wish I was at that house with the red door. Sometimes I don't want the throne at all. I also think of my barren womb and am glad of it, relieved that House Targaryen would die and that there would be no more conquerors. I am not ashamed to be a Targaryen but I become afraid of the damage that could be done by the Targaryens after me. And like the flame of a candle, that thought extinguishes when I think of how much I want a babe of my own."

Daenerys sat up, too, feeling restless and vulnerable. She'd just confessed a lack of confidence, even a lack of desire for the throne. What would Sansa think of her? Ignoring her misgivings, she continued. "There's a madness in it, the need inside to continue the bloodline. To live on in our children. You feel that pressure, too. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, right?

"Yes," replied Sansa with a sigh. "For me it's duty and responsibility, to see my pack live on, to make sure no one hurts us again. I don't feel a pull to motherhood anymore but you're right. That pressure to not fail your house, it's very strong."

"Jon's existence makes it possible for House Targaryen to continue if I allow him to reveal the truth. But that opens up other troubles, doesn't it? His claim and what others will do to manipulate him."

"Jon is loyal to you," said Sansa firmly.

"I know he is. I don't question him. I question others. And still that wish for my house to die… how it competes with my wish for a child and to prove the worth of my family…"

"The witch could've been lying, your Grace."

Daenerys laughed bitterly, knowing Jon had said something similar, but refusing to give herself that hope. She lay back down, pulling the covers up to her waist.

"Your thoughts and fears reveal a good heart, your Grace. Your claim isn't what makes you the better candidate for the throne, it's everything else. Yes, you are going to win it by battle, as many rulers of the past have; as any upstart who sought something better. But I see that you recognize that and I know you will rule with intelligence and grace and you will bring peace here. The people will see that."

Sansa looked at her kindly and then lay down, bringing up the furs to her chest. Then Sansa turned on her side to face her, like she wanted to say something but was afraid. Daenerys turned on her side and reached out to hold Sansa's hand.

"What is it?"

"It's Jon," Sansa answered, and the way she said it made Daenerys know what Sansa wanted to discuss.

"I don't want to talk about him with you, Sansa."

"Why?"

Daenerys squeezed her hand and said, "Not in your bed, not when we're like this."

"Bed is where we are and I'm your friend. Just listen."

Daenerys paused and then nodded.

"I think you should worry about his claim…"

"Sansa…"

"You said you would listen. Jon, Arya, Bran, and I will not say anything. Sam is not family but I'm fairly certain he will keep silent. But we don't know whether other witnesses will come forward, who was told, what evidence might turn up in the future. A truth like this, it could find its way out."

"So what do you suggest?"

"Marriage."

Daenerys tensed and then turned around, her back to Sansa.

"Daenerys… it will help neutralize the claim if you were to wed. Legitimize him as a Stark if you're unwilling to tell the truth right now. Or ever. Plus, your being wed to a Stark will appease the North and help with the peace after Cersei is gone."

"Sansa, you speak as if I haven't thought of this."

"I'm sure that you have. But hearing it from me is different, isn't it?"

"He won't. He doesn't want…"

Sansa wrapped an arm around Daenerys and pressed her forehead to the back of her head. Why is Sansa doing this to me? Doesn't she know what her touch and these words are doing?

"You still love him, don't you?"

Daenerys didn't answer but she stiffened. She didn't know. She didn't know if she did or didn't anymore.

"It doesn't bother me; you can tell me the truth. You do, don't you?"

Daenerys still didn't speak. She heard a kind of forced calmness in her tone, like Sansa wanted to believe it didn't bother her. It meant Sansa was either lying to her or lying to herself.

"Daenerys, you think staying silent means you admit nothing but silence is also telling. You've risked your life for him. You lost a dragon in the process. That kind of feeling just doesn't go away. You do love him. Think about what I said. It's the best solution."

"Why doesn't it bother you, Sansa? When I think of your feelings for Tyrion, I feel…"

"Shhhh," she replied, holding Daenerys tighter, causing Daenerys to bite back a scornful remark. Of course Sansa didn't want to hear about what she felt for her. Dutiful Sansa only thinks about the good of the realm.

"It doesn't bother me because he's my brother and I love him. I was a terrible sister growing up and I want to be a better sister to him now. You can make each other happy. Your safety, his, the two of you being happy, that's what matters."

Talk of Jon was upsetting her and Daenerys didn't like how casually Sansa could speak of it, as if she didn't care about her at all, as if she'd forgotten how their kisses made them feel.

"And would Tyrion make you happy? I've seen the way you look at each other. In the Great Hall. That day in the War Room when you gave us those messages. It is not as over between you as you've said." Daenerys had tried not to sound bitter but the taste in the back of her mouth at Sansa's apparent indifference had gotten to her. What Sansa said about Jon's claim made sense but she began to wonder if there was another reason Sansa was pushing her towards Jon.

Sansa let go of Daenerys and she could hear Sansa turn onto her back.

Daenerys continued, "You told me that part of you loved him but that your night together felt like an ending. Do you still feel that way?"

She hated the jealous edge in her voice, the almost desperate need for Sansa to deny any feeling for Tyrion Lannister.

"I have a responsibility to bring heirs to Winterfell," said Sansa simply, as if that answered Daenerys's question. The silence between them was deafening and Daenerys wondered if she should follow up with a different question. Then Sansa said, "Tyrion is very accepting of people as they are. Maybe that's the kind of marriage that would make me happy."

Sansa's pragmatism exasperated her. The advice about Jon. Her admission that Tyrion was still a marriage prospect. Daenerys turned around to face her and could see that Sansa looked uncomfortable yet resigned, as if confronting thoughts she found both distasteful and unavoidable. Anger flared up in her chest, and she hoped Sansa now realized why she didn't want to discuss this in the first place. It brought the real world into their bed. Sansa's bed, she had to correct herself.

"You also said you would refuse to consider him as long as he served me."

That made Sansa smile and she turned to look at her. The anger faded away at that look and Daenerys couldn't help the glance at her lips.

"Are you going to throw all my words back at me? One might think you've been hanging on everything I say," Sansa said, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

The easiness returned at Sansa's deflection and Daenerys smirked, wondering if she should let this go just as easily. She decided to see what a revealing answer would do.

"The ones that stung remain most vivid."

A glint of remorse passed through Sansa's eyes but the mischief was still there.

"I hope I've since kissed and made it better?"

Daenerys's eyes widened. This was the first direct reference to their kiss since the day it happened. Sansa's breathing became shallower, knowing she'd left an opening, and Daenerys couldn't tell whether it was fear or eagerness on Sansa's face.

Perhaps more kisses are required for that particular sting. That's what Daenerys wanted to say but her own uncertainty about Sansa's feelings got the better of her so she went with non-threatening acknowledgement.

"Much better."

Sansa smiled and turned around. The signal that it was time for sleep. But Daenerys didn't want to sleep just yet. She had another question and felt enough had been shared tonight that Sansa would be willing to answer.

"Why did you bare yourself to me that night?"

There was a long silence and Daenerys thought perhaps Sansa fell asleep. But then she spoke, at first quietly, and then in a stronger voice.

"Afterwards I thought it was because I wanted to shame you for your insult, or manipulate your sympathies, but that's not what I was thinking when I stood up. The truth is I connected very strongly to that story you shared about your wedding night. I didn't trust you back then but that connection told me you would understand and I never knew how much I needed that until that night. Words wouldn't have been enough. I needed you to see me. And you did understand. I could feel it, in spite of my embarrassment over what I'd just done."

Daenerys didn't speak. But she placed her hand on Sansa's back to reassure her that she was here and that Sansa didn't need to be embarrassed about anything. When Sansa turned around, her expression was soft and grateful.

"My turn for a question," said Sansa.

Daenerys nodded.

"Did you let me win that horse race?"

"No, I did not," laughed Daenerys in reply. "Missandei asked me the same thing. Why would I want you to win? I had to win; it was a point of pride. That I didn't only made me admire you more."

Sansa smiled and there was a look in her eyes that told Daenerys she was thinking of what had happened after the race. But Daenerys let it go and continued with different topics.

So it went for a couple of more hours that night, using the time to ask about and share more personal details about themselves. It was as if they were trying to fit a lifetime of sharing into these nights. Daenerys spoke more of Drogo, about her brother, her horror at the death of a child by her dragons, her acceptance that her dragons did not necessarily make the world safer, and more about her experiences trying to be a good ruler in Meereen. Sansa listened and responded with honesty, sometimes in disagreement or with pointed questions meant to guide Daenerys's thoughts to things she hadn't considered. She never used Daenerys's words as a means to put her down or criticize her without purpose. It was refreshing getting these viewpoints, her respect for Sansa allowed her to hear these things without feeling threatened, and Daenerys wanted more of them. Sansa would make a valuable advisor in King's Landing. She began to wonder if she could convince her, telling herself that it had nothing to do with wanting more nights together like this.

*::::*

The following day Daenerys entered her rooms, holding a winter rose to her chest. She had just been in the glass gardens with Sansa and in the middle of an innocuous conversation about how the irrigation system worked, Sansa had cut the rose and handed it to her. No smile or knowing look and she had felt confused. But when she saw the book on the nightstand, she realized the deeper meaning involved and smiled. It was a book of northern stories and songs, a place to press her winter rose. Daenerys felt warmed and then surprisingly, and quite suddenly, sad and frustrated. She went to sit at her chair in front of the fire. It was burning low but the flames still calmed her and helped her think.

Drogo had been a sort of dependent love, someone she drew strength from as she learned to rely on her own strength. Jon was a flame to hold onto in the face of impending doom and the weight of the world on their shoulders. Her feelings for Sansa felt different. They felt stronger, more abiding. She hadn't thought of the throne with any serious desire for it in days. And when she did, it was in a more resolute conviction to save the people from Cersei and less about taking back what she thought belonged to her. Sansa had put many things in a new perspective for her. But this closeness. This in between. It was more than friendship but it was not enough.

Missandei entered the room. Daenerys could hear her fussing around but then Missandei seemed to understand her more serious mood and came to sit with her by the fire.

"Is everything all right, Khaleesi?"

Daenerys looked at her with a frown but said nothing and then looked to the rose in her hand.

"A gift from Lady Stark?" Missandei asked. Daenerys nodded and closed her eyes.

After a long silence, Daenerys opened her eyes and took a deep breath.

"This closeness with Sansa hurts more than it should, Missandei. Sansa says I should marry Jon to help with the peace but then looks at me in desire and yet shies from my advances. It's maddening," Daenerys said.

"Have the two of you discussed what you are with each other?"

"No."

Missandei nodded and then looked to the fire. Daenerys watched her, knowing she was organizing her thoughts, and she braced herself for whatever Missandei would say.

"I know you haven't wanted my advice about this but it's time to hear it now. I think you might consider putting distance between the two of you. It would've been different if it had just been a brief love affair without strong attachments. And if a non-physical love was what she wanted then she wouldn't be so torn over her desires. She feels strongly for you, I do believe that, but her sense of duty seems to be stronger. And yet she won't remove the temptation. So it falls to you to do so."

Her words made sense but they didn't make Daenerys feel better. The thought of losing Sansa caused her heart to squeeze in anguish.

"My Queen, we can't stay here forever. Lady Sansa has her own responsibilities and future to think about, and you must defeat Cersei and take the throne. She is also right about the benefits of a union with Jon Snow. Both Tyrion and I have suggested it before, remember?"

"But I… Missandei, I think that I'm in…" Daenerys paused, fearful, worried that saying it out loud might set her on a path she shouldn't tread.

Missandei reached for her hand. "I know," she said gently. "It is never easy to put the good of others before yourself. You are the Queen. You will do what's best for all of us."

*::::*

That night, Daenerys went to Sansa's chambers but was more quiet than usual. She could tell Sansa had expected a different kind of greeting after her gift of the book. Sansa inquired if the book was to her liking and Daenerys clutched Sansa's hands, bringing them to her lips in a chaste kiss. She couldn't speak but the smile that grew on Sansa's face made her wonder just how strong Sansa's feelings for her were. Daenerys could feel a confrontation coming but didn't want to face it tonight. Instead she told Sansa she was tired and had a slight headache. After Daenerys had changed into her nightgown, avoiding any glances at Sansa to see if she was watching her, she got into the bed with Sansa. She quickly settled in and closed her eyes. Daenerys could feel Sansa's gaze and could practically hear the whirl of thoughts in her mind but Sansa remained silent. The last thoughts Daenerys had before falling into a fitful sleep were on the soundness of Missandei's advice.


A/N: Some plot development, tender moments, and looming angst. Still on track to finish at 20 chapters. Hang in there, everyone.

For those questioning Dany's thoughts on an extinct House Targaryen, I already said in the beginning that my story's Dany and Sansa would not necessarily be true to the show's characters. I want Dany to be more self-reflective, to recognize her failings and not be so focused on her victories and self-righteous destiny. There were glimpses in the show of Dany potentially learning this but I guess D&D were telling a story about her fall instead of her rise so it went a different way. But fuck D&D.