A/N: I should be working but this fic keeps calling to me.
Chapter 16
Sansa enjoyed these days and nights with Daenerys more than she thought possible. Sometimes she wondered what it would be like to kiss again, what it would be like to do more than kiss in her bed. Blocking away the fear of that day in Winter town, Sansa would sometimes fantasize that she'd not stopped in the potter's house. Or when Daenerys tried to pull her into her bedchamber after their second kiss, Sansa would imagine letting her. She imagined what she would do, tasting her, touching her the way she touched herself. Sometimes she would watch Daenerys sleep, the hunger for her so strong that she would be tempted to wake her and shower her with kisses. Instead of acting on these desires, they would hold hands, sometimes embrace in comfort, exchange heated looks that exhausted Sansa's willpower, but there would be nothing further and Daenerys would dress and leave through her solar before dawn. Sansa had given instructions to the servants not to enter in the morning until she called for them but she still bolted the door during the night just in case their restraint failed them. She couldn't decide whether or not she was disappointed that it didn't.
In addition to the precautions taken with coming and leaving Sansa's bedchamber, during the day they did their best to hide their newfound closeness. But Sansa wanted even more time with her so she told Jon she wanted Daenerys to be part of meetings with respect to the North, and to allow them to deal with petitioners on their own. It was something he hated anyway so he was glad to leave it to them. At the beginning she would ask for Daenerys's opinions but Daenerys would leave the decision to her. But by the third day Sansa had encouraged her to take the lead and the petitioners had much praise for the thoughtfulness of their queen. Working together during the day, sharing a bed at night, Sansa could almost pretend her long dead dream of having what her parents had together was true. In the past, when Sansa thought of marrying she thought of securing Winterfell, enduring what she had to in order to produce heirs, and the necessity of it being someone at least tolerable to her. The last part is what had added to Tyrion's appeal because he was more than tolerable. But what she hadn't thought of was what it would be like to share a life, the miniscule details of the day to day, and the familiarity that comes from sharing a bedchamber with someone with whom she wanted to share everything.
These thoughts made Sansa both happy and afraid. Daenerys would be leaving very soon and this illusion they'd created would have to end. She should've anticipated how attached she would become, she should've recognized that allowing these nights together would only grow the emotional connection she felt, the melting down of the walls around her heart. Sansa didn't just yearn for Daenerys's touch, she yearned for all of her. And it was more terrifying than trusting Daenerys with the North had been.
Sansa was standing on the outer wall watching Daenerys in the distance in the soldier camps. Jon was updating her on the soldiers' training and their readiness. Daenerys looked capable and strong as she dealt with her duties and Sansa felt confident in this queen she had chosen. She thought of the other night when she'd shown Daenerys a few sketches of different dragon designs she wanted to embroider on the dress. Daenerys liked the one-headed dragon best instead of her traditional three-headed sigil and had been very complimentary of Sansa's drawing skills. The memory of it made her feel warm but then she remembered last night. Something had been bothering Daenerys but she called it a headache. Sansa wondered whether it had been the rose and book she'd given to her, whether referencing that flirtation had made Daenerys cross with her. Watching her now in the distance, Sansa wanted Daenerys to look in her direction, she wanted to see a smile meant for her alone, but she chastised herself for these foolish thoughts and pushed them away. But then Daenerys suddenly did and Sansa smiled to herself, marveling at how a look could make her feel such euphoria.
"Still in love, I see."
Startled, she turned to see Arya watching her and then she looked around to make sure no one could hear them. But the soldiers were gone. They were alone.
Sansa stiffened and turned back to look at the camps, huffing at Arya's accusation. Then Arya came to stand beside her watching Daenerys and Jon.
"Not that you asked me to but I wanted you to know that I've been spying on your queen, listening in on her private conversations. She's plotting something."
She turned to Arya, surprised. But before she could say anything, Arya spoke again. "There is a delay in the food shipment from Dragonstone. Tyrion convinced her it would be better they not take supplies from Dragonstone where her armies may need them, not until after the war is over. They may also need it as food rations for the people in King's Landing after they take the city. So they are sending messages to Meereen to hasten the shipment from there. It should arrive within the next moon."
"Oh," said Sansa, relieved, turning back to the camps. "Understandable, of course. Anything else?"
"She speaks quite highly of you with her friend Missandei." Sansa tried to suppress the blush and could feel Arya's knowing gaze.
"Have you spoken with Jon yet?"
Arya gave her a look that said she wasn't done teasing her but in the end she looked resigned to answer her question.
"Yes. He's still struggling but I think he's gotten past some of the shock and is beginning to recognize the prudence of the match. Keeping her safe seems to be the angle that works best in pushing him. Jon actually said political marriage."
Sansa was surprised at that and turned a hard stare at Jon in the distance.
"He still loves her," said Sansa, though there was a hint of doubt in her voice she didn't like.
"I think so but it seems different. It doesn't have the life it used to. Nothing like what I see in you nowadays."
"Arya…" warned Sansa. She hated how Arya could get under her skin with her insinuations. Arya didn't respond and Sansa silently thought about Jon. "He just needs more time but he'll get there. The love will reassert itself, I'm sure of it. And if it doesn't, at least he is finally recognizing the political necessity."
The thought of it being a political match instead of a love match made Sansa feel guilty and uneasy but when she thought of what she'd had to endure with her own political marriages, she convinced herself that Jon would be lucky to have a woman like Daenerys. And Daenerys still harbored feelings for him so it would all work out in the end.
"I thought you were supposed to be redirecting her to him," Arya said gently.
"I am. I've told her that it would be a good match and that it would neutralize his claim."
"Those are words. But your actions speak otherwise. The gossip has begun among the castle servants."
Sansa steeled herself, blush deep on her cheeks. "Is it… bad?"
"Not at all. It's more astonishment than anything. They like her and they love you, and you're smiling more, so it's nothing mean-spirited," Arya answered with a smile. Sansa nodded. She shouldn't have been surprised but it still bothered her. It could eventually reach someone's ears looking for a reason to cause trouble, such as the other northern lords. It could also reach Jon.
"So," Arya stated loudly, holding a pause to an infuriating length before continuing, "How is she?"
"What do you mean?" Sansa asked but at Arya's smirk she understood. "Arya! We haven't… we don't… it's not like that."
Instead of laughing and teasing her, Arya took her hands, her expression kind, which was not the sister she was used to and Sansa was a little unnerved.
"Sansa, why ever not? I see the two of you. I know you want to. She wants to as well."
"We can't. She's the queen. There's Jon. She's leaving. My responsibilities here. Heirs for Winterfell, Arya." Sansa was rambling, flustered by Arya's question and her gentleness over it. She preferred teasing over these probing questions.
"I'm not talking about a long-term affair, Sansa. I'm talking about taking tenderness where we can get it before it's too late. You have to make things happen for yourself. It's not as if you have other prospects, I see how you've pushed the imp away from you at last."
"Don't talk about him that way," hissed Sansa, her blush returning.
Arya's eyes widened and then she laughed.
"So you do know what I mean. I'm impressed, Sansa," said Arya. Then her eyes hardened and she grasped the hilt of her sword. "He was good to you, wasn't he? Did he hurt you, is that why you're not talking with him anymore?"
"He was gentle and kind, Arya. It was one night… before this," Sansa said, gesturing between the two of them and Daenerys. "I stopped talking with him because he's quite perceptive and would've figured the plan out. But speaking of men who should be good to us, I presume you have things in hand with Lord Gendry?"
Arya turned to her, surprised, and Sansa felt satisfied in her victory, for finally putting her sister off balance. It had taken some time but Sansa found the right servant and eventually learned of her sister's love affair with the blacksmith-turned-lord. Her victory was short-lived, however, when Arya only nodded in reply and then looked out and regarded the queen. Sansa huffed lightly and turned to look at the queen, too, resigned for now at Arya's silence over Gendry. She would get more out of her sister another time.
"You were right about her, Sansa, she has a good heart. And I know it's complicated but you have to make up your mind. She's leaving soon, you might not get another chance. Make something happen. If not, if you truly want her to reunite with Jon, then you need to stop misleading her."
"I'm not misleading her."
"Oh Sansa, you do realize she's ready to burst, don't you?" laughed Arya. "You are, too."
Arya walked away, leaving Sansa to wonder if she was right. Is that why Daenerys acted so strangely last night?
*::::*
That afternoon, Sansa took Daenerys down to the lower levels of Winterfell to show her the hot springs. Daenerys listened excitedly as Sansa spoke of how the hot water is piped through the walls which helped to warm the castle. The passages down were narrow and dimly lit but Sansa was glad Daenerys didn't seem afraid. The Unsullied soldier behind them stayed alert but kept his distance.
When they reached their destination, Sansa grasped the latch of the old door, opened it, and said, "You've told me how you enjoy a hot bath and I thought you would enjoy this. You've seen the pools in the Godswood but swimming there would be too public. No one comes down here anymore; several of these pools are accessible beneath Winterfell but this is the only one that isn't scalding, although I suppose I needn't have worried about you."
Daenerys looked delighted as she entered the chamber. Sansa closed the door and looked around the room. It was about as large as the library, a small pool in the center with an old wood bench against the wall. Earlier she'd lit the wall sconces and placed fresh towel linens there in case Daenerys decided to get in. When Daenerys immediately began undressing, Sansa was glad for her forethought. She was wearing her dragon riding outfit so she worked on undoing the ties of her jacket. Sansa blushed when Daenerys removed it and she saw the tunic and pants underneath. She sat on the bench and removed her boots, then stood up to undo the ties of her pants. When she pulled them down, she removed her smallclothes as well and Sansa finally turned away, her blush deepening. She'd seen her undress several times in her bedchamber. It felt different down here by the hot spring.
"Aren't you joining me?" asked Daenerys, placing her clothes on the bench.
"I haven't been swimming in years, I barely remember how. There's hardly a chance to do so in the North," Sansa answered, still turned away.
"Come, come, Sansa. You can't bring me all the way down here and not join me."
Reluctantly, Sansa turned around and gasped when she saw a very naked Daenerys, who gazed at her as Sansa began to disrobe, placing her folded dress, stockings, and boots next to those of Daenerys. She left her shift on as she wasn't as comfortable with nudity the way Daenerys was.
"Is there a step?" Daenerys asked hoarsely, turning away from Sansa and facing the pool.
"Yes, here, take my hand." Daenerys took her hand and Sansa walked them to the edge of the pool where she knew there was a ledge below the water. She stepped down into the water and then helped Daenerys step in, now standing with water just above Sansa's knees. Before Sansa could say more, Daenerys took the extra step to submerge into the pool.
"Oh, Sansa… this is glorious!" Daenerys exclaimed, slinking around the water.
"It's a little hot for my tastes," answered Sansa with a laugh. She loved seeing the childlike happiness on Daenerys's face. She slipped down into a sitting position on the ledge, the water level now at her chest. The water was indeed hot, not enough to harm her, but she was soon sweating and feeling a little lightheaded.
"I wish you'd shown me this sooner, I'd have been here every day! A hot bath is lovely but this pool is absolute heaven." As if to emphasize her point, Daenerys completely submerged before resurfacing with a devilish expression.
"Come over here with me."
"I don't think so, like I said, I barely know how."
"I'll be with you. You don't have to be scared."
Sansa splashed water in Daenerys's direction and huffed but she soon found herself off the ledge and treading closer to Daenerys.
"See? Isn't this divine?"
Laughing, Sansa cautiously swam around Daenerys. She did remember how to swim after all but the lack of practice meant she winded easily and soon she was back on the ledge, panting.
"I'm out of breath," laughed Sansa.
"I can tell," replied Daenerys. Those words hit Sansa low in her belly and she saw the dark expression on Daenerys's face. But in the next moment there was only a smile, as if trying to convince herself to keep this play innocent.
But it wasn't completely innocent. Sansa would steal looks at Daenerys's wet skin and Sansa could no longer tell the difference between the heat from the pool and the heat in her body. Daenerys kept swimming around, not looking at all in her direction. The complete lack of eye contact was a sign by itself, of course. Sansa knew Daenerys wanted to look, her nonchalance a charade. The steam rose from the pool, the sweat and heavy air made Sansa's head swim, her resistance dissolving in the heat.
Before she knew it, Daenerys was treading towards her, eyes dark again. When had she started looking at her? Sansa didn't know but now eye contact was constant.
"Why did you bring me down here, Sansa?" Daenerys asked. She placed her hands on the ledge on either side of her legs, occasionally brushing up against her legs but still maintaining a respectful distance.
"I thought you would like it."
"And do you like it?"
"Like what?"
"Seeing me, nude in the water?"
"Daenerys…" warned Sansa, mouth slightly open. Daenerys had pushed against her a bit more so that she was now in between her legs. All Sansa had to do was shift forward a bit more to feel her against her center. And how tempting that was.
"How are you feeling?" Daenerys asked this softly. She brought one hand up out of the water and looking straight into Sansa's eyes, placed the palm flat against the center of her chest. Sansa should've pushed her away but it felt too good.
"As if I've had too much wine," answered Sansa with a sigh. She brought one hand to Daenerys's shoulder as Daenerys brought her other hand to grip the top edge of the pool behind Sansa's head, which brought her body to hover closer over Sansa, their chests nearly touching. They were now in a compromising position. If anyone saw them, there would be no good excuse for the intimacy on display. Thankfully an Unsullied soldier was outside the door to the chamber. No one would see.
Daenerys seemed torn on where to take this. Sansa leaned her face forward just enough so that their noses occasionally touched. She would not be the one to ask but she knew in her heart that if Daenerys kissed her in that moment, she would give in.
"We should…" whispered Daenerys.
"Yes?" Sansa whispered in reply, her hand squeezing Daenerys's shoulder gently. Bare, wet, hot. Her fingers began to move upwards towards Daenerys's neck.
"We should get out of this pool. You're looking faint."
Daenerys had removed her hand from Sansa's chest but they were still very much within kissing range and Sansa nearly closed the distance.
"You're right," she answered instead, pulling her hand off of Daenerys. She stood up slowly while Daenerys pushed herself back into the pool, treading water while staring up at Sansa. Instead of covering herself, Sansa just stood there, letting Daenerys see her, the water dripping off her, her hardened nipples pressing against her wet shift. Sansa could tell that Daenerys was aroused and it thrilled her to be able to have that effect on her. She turned around and stepped up and out of the pool, walking over to the towels and her clothes. Without looking back, she heard Daenerys get out of the pool and walk to her own clothes next to Sansa.
She turned so that her back was to Daenerys and removed the wet shift. Sansa didn't know if Daenerys watched her and she didn't want to know. Quickly toweling off, she grabbed her dress and pulled it over her head, covering her shivering body.
When she turned around she saw that Daenerys had already pulled on her pants and was currently pulling on her tunic. Her expression seemed mixed as well. Sansa saw disappointment but also anger.
"Daenerys… are we… will I see you tonight?" Sansa felt afraid. She knew Daenerys would be leaving soon but she didn't want anything to change. Just this small bit of distance caused by Daenerys's anger was enough to worry her.
Daenerys looked hard at Sansa but then softened and took her hands, returning Sansa's tentative smile with a reassuring one. "As my lady wishes."
*::::*
Daenerys spent the rest of the day feeling on edge. The encounter in the hot spring had shown a Sansa close to giving in to her desires and while that should have made Daenerys excited about tonight, instead it brought worry about what Sansa really wanted. Sansa had resisted every step of the way and it made Daenerys wonder whether Sansa nearly giving in was the result of accepting what she wanted or whether she had been worn down by Daenerys's own ardor. Daenerys had lingered close against her in the water but Sansa waited for her to close the distance, waited for her to make that decision for them, and that wasn't how she wanted Sansa. She wanted Sansa to be decisive, active in her choice, and for there to not be any room for regret.
Later that night, after most of the keep's residents had retired for the night, Daenerys carried her nightgown and made her way to Sansa's rooms. As usual she encountered no one but she was still ready with an excuse if she met anyone of note. She was nervous, unsure of how Sansa would be. There hadn't been an argument but there was an uncomfortable tension down in the hot spring before they parted.
She knocked softly on Sansa's bedchamber door and almost immediately it opened, Sansa smiling happily. Daenerys felt relieved by Sansa's joy.
"I didn't see you at dinner and I was worried that you might not come," said Sansa.
Daenerys smiled, "I said that I would."
She walked to a chair where she placed her nightgown and proceeded to undress. Sansa came over and helped her and Daenerys's heartbeat quickened. When Sansa helped pull the nightgown over her head, Daenerys felt Sansa's fingertips trail down the sides of her body. She had to bite back the gasp the sensation brought as she didn't want to scare Sansa at how she was affected by her touch. She searched Sansa's eyes but couldn't tell what she was thinking.
"Do you mind if I undo your braids," whispered Sansa.
"As long as I get to undo yours," answered Daenerys. Sansa nodded and Daenerys sat down on the chair.
Daenerys had always found it comforting when Missandei undid her braids. The soft tugs of her hair lulled her into calmness and made her more ready for sleep. As Sansa did it, she felt that same sense of calm but she also felt Sansa stop at certain points, moving her fingers through her hair, occasionally brushing the nape of her neck with her fingertips. Their nights together were usually full of conversation but this time there was silence. It unnerved her.
When Daenerys felt the last braid unravel she thought Sansa would be done but she whispered for Daenerys not to move, went to her dressing table, and came back with a hairbrush. Sansa gently brushed Daenerys's hair and she couldn't help the arousal it caused. This act of grooming, Sansa serving her as if she were a handmaiden, it was erotic and at the same time so domestic, Daenerys could barely keep her breathing steady. She could pretend again that this was their bedchamber, and that Sansa was not a handmaiden but her lover.
After what seemed like hours, Sansa whispered, "I'm done."
Daenerys turned around and stood up silently, gesturing for Sansa to sit. Sansa did not have as intricate an array of braids on her head but Daenerys still made sure to go slowly as she undid them, not even trying to keep her fingers from caressing Sansa's scalp or rubbing Sansa's neck and shoulders. From the sounds of Sansa's breathing, she knew Sansa was feeling exactly what she had felt when she'd been under Sansa's grooming care. Daenerys loved the feel of Sansa's hair and wished they'd thought of this routine sooner. She took the hairbrush from Sansa's hands and began brushing Sansa's hair out. It was long and silky, getting softer with every brush stroke. When she was done she didn't speak but Sansa turned and took the hairbrush out of her hands and wordlessly took it to her dressing table. When she turned around, she glanced at the bed and Daenerys understood the command.
After they'd gotten under the covers, they lay on their sides looking at each other. Sansa said, "Your hair is very beautiful. I enjoyed brushing it out."
"And I enjoyed the act of your brushing my hair out. It was very relaxing," Daenerys said dreamily.
"Daenerys…"
She interrupted, "You never call me Dany. Why?"
Sansa blinked several times, turned over onto her back, and then answered with a smile, "I think your name is beautiful. I enjoy the way it feels saying it. Dany is what he calls you. And I'm not him." She looked at her shyly. "Does that make sense?"
"Perfect sense, Sansa. As I've said before, I enjoy the way your voice sounds when you say my name."
They exchanged smiles and Daenerys continued, "What were you going to say when I interrupted?"
Sansa sighed. "I was going to apologize for earlier today. I could tell you weren't happy with me at the hot spring."
For several moments, Daenerys didn't know how to respond. Sansa made it sound like she didn't know what had caused Daenerys's ill humor. This irritated her and she felt an urge to not let Sansa get away with vague apologies.
"What exactly did you do that requires an apology, Sansa?"
Sansa responded with a deep blush but then opened her mouth to speak.
"Wait," said Daenerys, suddenly afraid of what 'honest' answer Sansa would choose. The one that would preserve this, whatever this was, or the one that would lay it bare, either one of which had the potential to slice through her heart. "Let's just think of it the way we think of that moment in the snow; an encounter where we lost ourselves. No apologies necessary."
"We lose ourselves quite frequently," admitted Sansa.
Daenerys released a soft breath through her nose and then smiled. She had given Sansa a way to avoid this sort of frankness but Sansa persisted just the same. In truth, she did like it best when Sansa didn't try to hide behind cautious phrases.
"Yes we do," replied Daenerys.
Sansa moved closer and rested her head on Daenerys's shoulder, her arm thrown over her abdomen. They often fell asleep like this and Daenerys knew not to mistake it for a romantic advance.
Daenerys wrapped her arms around Sansa and kissed the top of her head. They said nothing but the silence was heavy. Fear held her back from saying what she felt, fear of losing Sansa, of losing this friendship they'd built. She wondered if Sansa was thinking the same thing. Missandei's advice kept swirling in her head. They held each other like that for a while and then Daenerys could hear Sansa's breathing become deep and steady. She'd fallen asleep. Daenerys kissed her head one more time and then closed her eyes.
::
Having gotten used to waking up entangled with Sansa, Daenerys wasn't surprised when her eyes opened to Sansa's back, with her right arm draped over her and hand splayed just below Sansa's breasts. The candle was still burning which meant it was not morning yet. Sansa's sleep dress had lowered somewhat so that Daenerys's lips were pressed against Sansa's skin. Daenerys closed her eyes and gently hugged tighter but she would go no further. Then she felt Sansa tense slightly. The whole front of her body was pressed against Sansa from behind so she could tell that Sansa was awake. Daenerys waited for her to pull away but she didn't, though neither did she speak.
The skin against Daenerys's lips felt hot and moist from her breath. She wanted to lick the skin, taste it, bite it. But she didn't have permission and Sansa still wasn't speaking. Daenerys worried the spell would be broken and perhaps Sansa felt the same. However, too much time had gone by and they were both awake – it was time to remove her hand. As she began moving, Sansa's right hand suddenly gripped her own, holding it tightly. Daenerys held her breath, wondering, hoping. Slowly, Sansa pulled her hand up to her breasts and that was the permission Daenerys needed. She tentatively kissed Sansa's back, slowly extending her tongue and tracing small circles, before kissing again, her right hand gently caressing Sansa's left breast before settling over her right, squeezing and pinching the hardened nipple. There was a faint saltiness to her skin but it was also sweet and Daenerys felt like she was in a delicious dream. The scars raised the skin at points but Daenerys nibbled along them, telling Sansa with her kisses that she was desirable, that she was beautiful. Sansa's own shallow breaths, quick, gasping, were turning into light moans. Then Sansa squeezed her legs together slightly and Daenerys began moving her hand down but Sansa suddenly grabbed it.
Daenerys pressed her forehead against Sansa's back in frustration and tried to pull her hand away to stop this whole thing but Sansa wouldn't let go. Part of her wanted to yell at Sansa to make up her mind. The other part that wished to treasure Sansa tried to be patient and then wondered if Sansa would allow a different sort of experience.
"Touch yourself," Daenerys suddenly commanded in a harsh whisper.
"What?" whispered Sansa, and Daenerys could feel Sansa trembling.
Good, she knows exactly what I'm saying.
"Do it. Pretend it's me. I won't touch you, I promise," Daenerys said, and she pulled her hand away and moved her head back so that her lips were no longer touching her. Then she moved her body back to give Sansa even more space.
For several excruciating moments, Daenerys thought Sansa would refuse but then she saw Sansa's right arm dragging down. She wished she could see and wanted to tell Sansa to turn on her back but that might stop it altogether. Sansa's arm began a slow repetitive motion and from her breathing, Daenerys knew it wouldn't take Sansa very long.
"How am I touching you, Sansa?" Daenerys breathed.
There was a strangled sigh and then Sansa answered, "Softly."
"Pull up your gown." The heat she was feeling made Daenerys feel like she was going to catch fire. This was madness. But she'd never felt this kind of arousal just from watching someone pleasure themselves, just from speaking these words. Her center throbbed, and she had intended to do this in tandem with Sansa, but decided to ignore it as she didn't want to miss one moment of Sansa's pleasure.
Sansa obeyed, pulling up the skirt of her sleep dress, and then slipping her hand beneath her smallclothes.
"I'm touching you and you're touching me. How are you touching me, Sansa?"
"Hard," gasped Sansa. "Fast."
Daenerys let out a soft groan, her hands longing to touch Sansa.
"Am I touching you fast now as well?"
"Yes… yes you are… it feels so good," Sansa said in between gasps and moans.
"Gods, Sansa. I want my mouth on you. I want to taste you."
"Daenerys..." moaned Sansa.
It was agony not being able to touch her, this woman, this goddess who was thinking of her, needing her, imagining her fingers. Daenerys wanted to hold her, feel the pleasure coursing through her body, claim Sansa for her own and not just for tonight but for all the nights, not letting anyone else touch her ever. She stared at Sansa and felt a pull in her heart that threatened to overwhelm her. Raising herself up on her left arm, Daenerys was able to get a somewhat better view of Sansa's face. Her eyes were clenched tight, mouth slightly open, soft moans getting louder. Daenerys reached out a hand to touch her but she forced it back, grabbing her own breast instead. She squeezed herself hard and let out a soft moan of her own.
Soon Sansa turned onto her back seeming to no longer care that Daenerys could see, her eyes opening briefly to look at her, letting Daenerys know she wasn't pretending she was alone. When her eyes darted to Daenerys's chest, Daenerys quickly undid the ribbons on the opening of her nightgown, so that Sansa could look upon her. Taking her breast in hand, she caressed herself as Sansa eyed her hungrily.
Then Sansa closed her eyes again, licking her lips. Daenerys gazed upon Sansa in the candlelight, red hair splayed across the pillow, her right hand between her legs, her nightgown bunched up around her waist, her other hand pinching and kneading her breast, lifting her hips slightly to thrust against her hand. The sweat on her chest and on her brow. She was so beautiful and Daenerys ached for her.
"Come for me, Sansa," she breathed.
Sansa's eyes flew open again to look at her, her mouth open, and then she clenched them shut as she threw her left hand over her mouth to muffle her cries, her right hand stilling over her center.
Daenerys could stand it no longer and she moved closer to Sansa, leaning over her face. When Sansa opened her eyes again, trying to catch her breath, Daenerys was mere inches away and they stared into each other's eyes. She had never seen Sansa look so vulnerable, so raw and exposed. In the briefest of moments, she saw desire, contentment, and uncertainty flit across her face. Her piercing eyes looked up at her as if pleading for mercy. Mercy from what, Daenerys didn't know, but Sansa had only to ask and she would do anything. Anything. Words bubbled up from within her and, seeming to recognize the danger of what she might say, Sansa brought up her right hand to Daenerys's lips. It silenced her words but at the contact Daenerys kissed Sansa's fingers, licking them, and tasting Sansa's pleasure. At first Sansa gasped and lightly moaned as she pressed her fingers harder against Daenerys's lips but then Sansa's eyes widened.
"Stop," whispered Sansa.
She pulled away and Sansa sat up, breathing fast and trying to calm herself. Daenerys closed her eyes and tried to take deep breaths. It was several moments before Sansa turned around to face her but Daenerys didn't want to look into those eyes. Those eyes that lusted for her but nothing more.
"I'm sorry," said Sansa weakly.
"Don't be," she answered, still breathing deeply. "Don't be. I'm sorry. I got caught up in what we were doing."
"It shouldn't have happened."
Daenerys finally let her eyes meet those of Sansa.
"You liked it, though."
Sansa turned away. After a long pause, she replied, "I did."
That got Daenerys's full attention. She wanted to talk about it. Talk about everything that was happening between them. But instead of further conversation, Sansa lay down and pulled the covers back over herself.
"Goodnight, your Grace."
After a pause, Daenerys opened her mouth to wish her goodnight but then realized she couldn't do this. Not after what just happened. She got out of the bed and removed her nightgown.
"What are you doing?" gasped Sansa, eyes opened wide at her nakedness.
"Leaving," answered Daenerys, grabbing her clothes and dressing. "We can't do this anymore, Sansa."
Sansa looked like she would speak but she gave no answer. Daenerys dressed, pulled on her boots, then waited, eyes begging her to say something but her lips stayed tightly pressed together. It had become unbearable being this close to her, to let their desire go this far but no further. It's not just unbearable, it's ridiculous.
Then Sansa threw off the covers and rushed out of bed.
"Everything was fine until you pushed tonight!"
"I didn't start it! I was going to pull away but you held my hand and moved it to your breast. That's what started it, Sansa."
"But then I stopped your hand. And then you said… you told me to… why would you do that?"
"Because I want you! Because you took me to that damn hot spring today knowing that I wanted you. You've let me into your bed, knowing that I want you."
Daenerys walked around the bed to stand before Sansa. Sansa straightened, trying to put on her mask, but Daenerys could see her words had affected her.
"And you want me, Sansa. You didn't have to touch yourself but you did. But we can never be more, isn't that right?"
Sansa's tears were falling now and her eyes fell. Daenerys's anguish increased but she pressed on.
"Then for our sanity, we cannot continue as we have been and pretend what we do together is innocent when it most certainly is not. You keep talking about our duties and responsibilities? Well, it's time I get back to them. Goodnight, Lady Sansa."
Not waiting for an answer, Daenerys swiftly turned around, grabbed her nightgown, and exited through the bedchamber door.
When Daenerys arrived at her bedchamber, she climbed into bed in a huff, fully clothed. After her frustration subsided, she felt the tears well up. It wasn't just desire she felt now. Emotions bubbled underneath, emotions she'd been denying but were banging against her heart and mind, demanding to be acknowledged. But she couldn't. The weight of responsibility was also making itself known. And more than that, she now believed that she'd allowed herself to get more caught up in this than Sansa. Sansa desired her but not enough to throw caution to the wind, not enough to get lost in these feelings the way Daenerys had become. Thoughts flew to Jon and how he had denied her in spite of his feelings. These damn Starks, she thought to herself angrily.
A/N: Angst factor increasing and won't let up for the duration. Hold on to yourselves.
Thanks for the reviews. And thanks to everyone still following along on this journey with me. It's my longest fic so far, and the first that actually began with a plan, instead of my tendency to expand on a one-shot. And speaking of plan, I miscounted before; there will actually be 21 chapters in total.
