Chapter 17

Daenerys was tired as she entered the War Room for the morning council meeting. It was time to start planning the departure from Winterfell. Even though she knew she hadn't slept well, it still felt like she was seeing more clearly than she had been in days. Eager to get started, Daenerys wanted to be the first one in the room so she arrived early but Jon was already there and he was alone.

He smiled softly at her and Daenerys saw calmness about him.

Jon said, "I suppose I shouldn't start without the others but I think you should know that we've gotten reports that some of the smallfolk have fled King's Landing. With the food shortages there, and their fear of attack, it's understandable. I'm surprised Cersei let them go but I don't think her army is as devoted to her as she'd like."

"Hmmm, I hope those people are safe and find shelter. It's good news, though, yes? It means there will be less risk of innocent casualties."

"Aye," Jon replied, smiling gently. He walked over to her and reached for her hand.

Daenerys stared into his eyes and felt a confused warmth. What is he…? Before she could say anything, or figure out what it was she was feeling, Sansa walked in. Sansa blushed furiously at seeing Daenerys then directed a sharp glance at her hand joined with Jon's. Daenerys pulled her hand away quickly and hardened her features. Fortunately, Tyrion and the others walked in.

Over the last week Sansa's presence had distracted her in these meetings. They would share looks and secret smirks but this time Daenerys found it easy to focus on the updates from Tyrion and Jon. Tyrion shared that the ravens had begun arriving with declarations of allegiance to their cause. She ignored how Tyrion directed a grateful look towards Sansa. Jon spoke of what was happening with the smallfolk in King's Landing. Varys said that his birds shared whispers that boded well for open support for Daenerys after she'd taken the throne. Daenerys was pleased with all the news.

Then Tyrion reiterated the plan for taking King's Landing. Daenerys, the dragons, and a small contingent would head to White Harbor to meet her armies that have been waiting and then sail for Dragonstone. Yara's small fleet will likely arrive when they do. Jon would lead the northern armies, the forces from the Vale, and the rest of the remaining Unsullied and Dothraki down the King's Road. Along the way, they would join with forces from the Riverlands, Edmure Tully having declared for Daenerys thanks to Sansa's efforts. Daenerys would wait until Jon's arrival and then they would coordinate the attack. It had been decided that a long siege would not be necessary. Daenerys and Jon would use the dragons and would stand down as soon as the city surrendered.

"You may want Jon to come along with you, your Grace," interrupted Bran.

"And why is that?" asked Tyrion. They all looked at Bran expectantly.

"Rhaegal will need a rider to help fight off Euron Greyjoy's ambush. He means to wait for you off Dragonstone. The ballistae have been mounted on his ships. He will try to take out your dragons."

"Those bolts are strong enough to penetrate ships' hulls. Our fleet will be ripped apart," Daenerys muttered, looking at Jon.

Lord Royce spoke up. "My Queen, with your permission, I can lead the forces down the King's Road instead of Lord Snow."

Jon looked at him and exchanged a look with Daenerys. Weeks ago she would've shaken her head against this idea. But Sansa had helped her get to know Lord Royce, and she had received Lord Arryn's declaration of support. She nodded in agreement.

"Very well, Lord Royce. Lord Snow will accompany me. He and I will discuss tactics on dealing with Euron's ships," conceded Daenerys. "Lord Brandon, can you find Yara Greyjoy's ship and guide a raven there with a message for her? She needs to be warned."

After that was settled, they discussed more mundane matters of supplies and set a timetable for departure. Jon put Sansa in charge of figuring out rations for the departing armies. Sansa also suggested a farewell feast the night before the northern armies began to depart. Daenerys and her contingent would depart several days after that. They all agreed some frivolity after these long days of waiting was needed. Daenerys looked at her while she was speaking and saw that Sansa had regained that icy regard she did so well. Remembering how Sansa looked when she fell apart made the heat grow within her again and she almost smiled at her but held back and turned back to Tyrion and Jon after they'd agreed to hold the feast. It was a good meeting and it grounded her. She'd been lost in a world with Sansa but the reality of her life reminded her of her responsibilities. King's Landing awaited and Winterfell was not her home.

When the meeting was done, the others left chatting with each other but Daenerys saw that Sansa waited behind. For a moment, Daenerys almost stayed to talk with her. But she was still angry and needed more time to settle her thoughts, to find the strength to do what had to be done.

"Good day, Lady Sansa," she said, and turned away and walked out of the room.

*::::*

Sansa had woken up earlier that morning feeling more alone than she had felt in a long time. The place next to her in bed was cold with only a lingering scent that hinted at Daenerys's presence. She had no words for what happened the previous night. Thinking about it flustered her. When Daenerys had told her to touch herself, the desire she felt was hotter than it had ever been. She should've stopped. But Sansa had thought of Arya's suggestion to make something happen, of how Daenerys had just touched her breasts, and her need was overwhelming. To do that in front of her… the way Daenerys had looked at her… Sansa felt so safe and desired, she would have never been able to do that in front of anyone else. It was only afterwards that the regret and guilt came. It would be easy to blame last night as the reason for the strain between them, but Sansa now realized it would've happened eventually. The frustration that Daenerys expressed had been there the last few days, as Arya had hinted.

Missandei had rebuffed her when she'd gone to Daenerys's rooms, saying Daenerys was busy. She had tried to speak with her later at the council meeting but Daenerys only gave her hard looks and walked out of the room after Sansa had clearly implied she wished to speak afterwards.

Sansa now sat at the high table during the midday meal, wondering what else she could do to mend this fracture. She felt the loss sharply but she maintained her poise in the face of Daenerys's coldness, who spent her time during the meal talking with Missandei. Daenerys's words last night, the way she had snapped at her, Sansa kept going over it again and again. The morning meeting reminded her of Daenerys's impending departure and she wanted to part on good terms, not like this.

She stared at her food and then heard a voice behind her that sent her heart soaring.

"Lady Sansa, will you come to my solar after the meal?"

Sansa turned and looked up. Daenerys still looked aloof and there was a soft sadness in her eyes.

"Yes, of course, your Grace. I'll come straightaway."

"Thank you. I'll see you in a little while," replied Daenerys, and she made her way out of the hall.

Hope began to creep into her heart. Sansa tried to convince herself that Daenerys's coldness was just a show, to hide the true nature of their friendship. But what is the true nature of it now? Sansa asked herself.

Not wanting to seem in a hurry, Sansa finished her food and chatted with Jon and then Brienne for a little while. Then she steadily walked out of the hall and made her way to Daenerys's rooms.

*::::*

At Daenerys's solar, it was uncomfortable and Sansa was worried. They both sat at the chairs in front of the hearth and Daenerys had poured them each a goblet of wine but there wasn't much conversation, and what little of it there was remained forced.

"Jon seemed easy with me at the meeting this morning. I think he may be softening towards us," Daenerys said suddenly after an extended silence.

Sansa took a small sip of her wine and made sure her voice stayed steady. "That's good. As I said before, it's a good match."

Daenerys huffed slightly but she had no immediate reply.

After a while Daenerys said, "With Jon in King's Landing, the choice for Wardeness of the North is you."

It should've made Sansa smile but she only had thoughts of how their friendship seemed to be falling apart. And yet, she had to remain strong. She had pushed for this match and she needed to show support.

"You'll be leaving Winterfell soon, your Grace. The whole of Westeros is relying on your good judgement. And I hope I can provide the North the same as Wardeness."

"I understand, Lady Sansa," said Daenerys stiffly, "You don't have to keep reminding me of our duty."

Sansa looked back into the fire, feeling Daenerys's anger fill the room. She hoped to ease it with more familiar conversation.

"It's been a while since we've gone to Winter town. Shall we go tomorrow? I'm sure Falon would love another visit."

"I think I want to try visits without you as an escort, if you don't mind. I want to see how I am treated by the residents when their favorite isn't amongst them."

"Of course. Um… yes, it's a good idea, your Grace." Sansa felt the hollow in her stomach grow larger. This wasn't how it was supposed to go and she could almost predict Daenerys's next words.

"As for other outings together, I need to begin planning for my departure. There's still a war to fight. This has become a distraction I can no longer afford."

Sansa stared at Daenerys, feeling stunned and insulted. "A distraction?"

Daenerys took another sip of her wine and hardened her expression even more.

"Your words, remember?" Daenerys said, and added in a chilling lilt, "What's happening between us is nothing. A lust-filled distraction, that's all. I was paying more attention to your expressions but I should have paid more heed to your words."

And it was Sansa's turn to feel the sting her words could impart.

"It began as a way to settle the question of the North, did it not? And isn't it settled now, Lady Sansa? I've proven my worth, you've given your support, and I don't see a reason to devote this much of my private time any longer."

"I thought… I thought we were friends." Sansa almost scoffed at herself after these words. They made her sound pathetic and she did not want that, not right now, not when Daenerys was clawing her heart out.

"I no longer think that's possible. Not after last night."

"Daenerys…" Sansa whispered, blushing, feeling uncomfortable with her reference to what occurred between them.

"Stop! For once, just be honest with yourself and with me," Daenerys interrupted. Then she sighed. "How can you do it? How can you sit here and pretend that you didn't pleasure yourself, thinking of me, while I watched? So close I could touch you. Go ahead and keep lying to yourself but I will not pretend I don't know what you look like when you… I may as well have been the one..."

Daenerys shook her head, took a large gulp of her wine, and stood up and walked to place the goblet on the table. She stayed there, not turning to look back at Sansa. But when she spoke again, it was in a small, almost broken voice.

"And now you expect us to go back to the way things were? It's become like torture to me. Isn't it torture for you?"

"Yes," breathed Sansa faintly, heart pounding and afraid. The thought of losing Daenerys became too much to bear.

Daenerys turned to look at her, seemingly surprised to hear Sansa admit to her own torment.

"But this is what you want. We can't be more. Isn't that right?"

Sansa didn't answer. Fear ruled her. Fear of losing her. And also fear that having her would put too much at risk.

After several moments of silence, Daenerys walked back to sit in the chair and despite the closer proximity, Sansa felt the distance between them as if it were an ocean.

"I asked you here so that we could come to an understanding. It's time we stop pretending that we can go back and forth without consequences. You've already explained how you feel; you wanted to be friends. And I wanted to respect that, I did. I tried not to pressure you into anything you did not want. I failed in that effort and I'm sorry. Now, I ask that you respect how I feel. I can't be your friend while I feel this way. I must move forward and the future must be considered. Yours and mine. Like the advice you gave about Jon's claim. It is looking like the preferable option."

Sansa held herself like steel, using all her willpower not to throw herself at Daenerys. It wasn't meant to be, she knew that. She had to stay strong for Jon, for her duty.

Daenerys sighed at Sansa's continued silence and stood up. "I've taken up too much of your time, Lady Sansa. Thank you very much for these days together. I will remember them."

Sansa rose, too, but she didn't walk towards the door. She tried to hold back, tried not to open her mouth, but she was in shock. Daenerys wasn't even going to try to maintain the friendship with her. She was ending it.

"You're not even going to try? After everything I've done for you? Everything I've given you?" she whispered. Sansa flinched. Her words had been too raw, had betrayed too much of what she felt. Sansa looked away before she could see Daenerys's response in her eyes.

She forced the ice to fill her heart, to be angry at Daenerys's decision. Logically, Sansa knew it was for the best. But her anger wanted to place the blame on Daenerys. Sansa had made mistakes, of course she did, but Daenerys did much to encourage it. She encouraged it when she knew Sansa had been reluctant. Daenerys had teased, she had flirted, and she'd looked at her with those eyes that seemed to so easily see into her. Sansa had given her the North and now she was being discarded. Anger made her stand straighter, made her glare harsher and she looked into Daenerys's eyes with an unforgiving coldness.

"Good day, your Grace," Sansa said firmly. Daenerys's lips parted, as if surprised Sansa wasn't going to fight her more on this. She recovered quickly, though.

"Good day, Lady Sansa."

And Sansa walked out.

That night, long after the castle's residents had retired, Sansa waited for Daenerys. A part of her still hoped Daenerys would change her mind. And she waited, staring at the door, wishing with an indescribable intensity for her friend to come. If she did, Sansa would make it up to her. She would show Daenerys restraint, she would not flirt or touch intimately. She would show Daenerys a true friendship. But Daenerys did not come and Sansa went to sleep alone and heartbroken.

*::::*

The next few days were a blur. Arya had taken to sitting with her in her rooms, not really talking, just keeping company. She knew Sansa needed someone and thankfully Arya didn't bring up Daenerys's name. She was kept busy by all the extra work of planning for Daenerys's departure. Food had to be scrounged up for the farewell feast, as well as provisions for the northern army's march south. There wasn't time for Sansa to dwell too much on sadness and feelings of longing.

Except at night. Sansa would lie in bed and find herself staring at the door, still hoping Daenerys would come. She had trouble sleeping without Daenerys next to her. She missed how Daenerys would hold her, how they would lace their fingers and stare at each other with barely contained desire. She wondered if Daenerys was awake, too, and thinking about her. In the morning, Sansa would wake up and wipe the night's tears away before getting ready for the long day without her friend.

Daenerys did as she had said she would; she'd gone to Winter town without her. Sansa had watched her return from the balcony over the yard and saw the smiles between Daenerys and Missandei but when Daenerys noticed her, she pulled Missandei to walk away.

Sansa also saw Daenerys and Jon talking more. It wasn't as relaxed as it had been before Jon learned of his parentage but she could see that Daenerys was being more patient with him. Sansa was glad for her brother, knowing it was only a matter of time before his wants outweighed his fears. After one particular exchange at a meal in the Great Hall, Jon had said something that made Daenerys chuckle and in her mirth, she looked to Sansa with a warm smile and Sansa returned it with equal warmth. For a moment, it had been perfect, like it was before. But then Daenerys's smile fell. Sansa had kept staring at her, though. Daenerys looked away and tried to listen to Jon but still Sansa stared. She hadn't cared if others noticed. Eventually a small blush grew over Daenerys's neck. And Sansa had felt that triumph, seeing how she still held sway over Daenerys's emotions. But Jon had turned to her, giving her a look, and quickly she excused herself and strode out of the hall before she did anything more humiliating like walk over to Daenerys and beg her for a meeting alone.

When Sansa wasn't sitting with Arya, or busy with preparations, she'd taken to wandering the keep with only Brienne for company. After Ramsay, it had taken a while before she was comfortable again in her home but she did eventually find that comfort. But now Sansa felt angry at these walls. Their stone and silence only reminded her of her duty to not fail House Stark. Hours in the Godswood did not bring the peace she sought. Her future lay before her and instead of resignation, she recoiled. Daenerys had made her feel alive in ways she never thought possible, ways she thought had died with that stupid girl she had been in King's Landing. She missed that feeling. She missed her friend.

*::::*

After that last talk with Sansa in her solar, Daenerys kept herself busy with departure preparations and short visits to Winter town. She'd bade a final farewell to little Falon and his mother and it broke her heart to leave them. She saw the North now as Sansa saw it, a world apart from the south. As much as she wanted to see Falon one day riding into King's Landing demanding his promised dragon ride, she knew he was better off here and hoped time and maturity would sway him against the journey.

It wasn't easy staying away from Sansa but she did the best she could. She was a queen after all, and as queen she'd had plenty of practice with remaining firm. But remaining firm did not dampen her need to keep track of Sansa. Daenerys would find herself looking for Sansa, not to talk with her, just to know where she was. Jon said his sisters were spending more time together and she nodded in understanding, knowing far more than he why Sansa would need someone close to her right now. When they passed each other or were in the same room together, Daenerys would gaze upon her unseen, turning away when Sansa would look towards her. Daenerys would wonder to herself if she'd been too hasty; if there had been another way to save her heart while maintaining some semblance of friendship. But any way she thought of only brought her back to her desire for Sansa, her intense hunger for her. Sansa didn't feel the same way and she wouldn't put herself in that position again if she could help it.

Except she could feel herself weakening. The day before the feast, Daenerys was in the yard and across it she saw Sansa with Missandei and a few of her Dothraki bloodriders and Unsullied. She didn't know what was being discussed but the way Sansa looked as she was speaking then patiently waiting for Missandei to translate, and the respectful attitude of her men with the Lady of Winterfell, it all filled Daenerys with a sense of pride and belonging. Like her people had been fully accepted. Didn't Sansa look so poised and commanding? Wasn't she the most breathtaking woman she'd ever seen? Daenerys had to look away to calm the flush that came over her. In the secret recesses of her mind, her thoughts whispered, Weren't her lips the softest I'd ever tasted?

*::::*

The night of the farewell feast lit up Winterfell with well-wishing and good humor from all in attendance. Even Sansa, as forlorn as she'd been over the last few days, felt its effects and tried to enjoy herself. That was made difficult whenever she'd glance over at Jon and Daenerys. He would speak intimately with her, a soft gaze on Daenerys's face. Sansa didn't know what was being said but she couldn't stop her jealousy, despite knowing this was what she'd wanted them to do.

When the lull in drinking and song came, Jon gave a speech meant to inspire the North's pledge to Daenerys and the victory they would soon have. There were cheers at the end but Sansa found it lacking. She felt an irresistible need to show him up, to draw Daenerys's attention. Sansa stood and waited until most eyes were looking her way.

"I will not stand here for long as my brother has just spoken many inspiring words. But I realized that some of you may still have the wrong impression of my own thoughts over the war we're fighting. And to that I wanted to say that none of us here in this room is alive without the help of her Grace."

The room had a low buzz of sound before but now they were silent. Tyrion stared at her in wonderment.

"Yes, my sister, the Hero of Winterfell, killed the Night King but she would not have been able to do so had Daenerys Stormborn not delayed her quest for the throne to come North with my brother, bringing her armies, her dragons, and her dragonglass. If not for her, the dead would have quickly swarmed this castle, killing all within its walls before anyone even had a chance at killing the Night King. If not for her, all of the kingdoms of Westeros would be lost."

Sansa looked around the room, making sure everyone heard and understood these words. She'd avoided looking at Daenerys, though. Sansa didn't want anyone to see the feelings behind her words.

"She has defended us and bled for us at great cost. We owe her our lives. I owe her my life. And the North will remember what she's done for us. I am proud to call her my friend and a friend of the North. To Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, our Queen, and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Long may she reign!"

"Long may she reign!" they all shouted in answer.

The cheers were loud and raucous. Most were raising their goblets and toasting Daenerys with sincere admiration on their faces. She couldn't resist turning to smile at her and saw that Daenerys was smiling warmly at her in return. Sansa turned back to the hall and knew that whatever little reserve the northmen had left towards the Dragon Queen had dissolved with the open approval coming from their Lady.

Sansa turned to Jon and lowered herself to his ear and whispered, "I think a turn about the room with the queen would be a good idea."

Jon nodded, stood up and offered his hand to Daenerys, which she took.

Sansa watched them walking around the Great Hall, making sure they talked to the few Lords and Ladies present, all of whom were very gracious to receive Daenerys's attention. Daenerys looked comfortable mingling with all these grumpy northerners and Sansa was proud of her. Her good mood soured when she saw their familiarity increase with each other after joining Jon's wildling friends. They laughed, Daenerys leaning her shoulder against his, Jon's hand on her lower back. When another Lord would approach them for conversation, Jon led and participated, deferring to Daenerys where appropriate. He seemed a different man and Sansa saw the effort he was making to show his queen that he was still worthy of her attentions. When they pulled themselves away to talk alone, Sansa saw how bright Daenerys's eyes were while she talked with Jon. She had to turn away when she saw him gently take hold of one of Daenerys's hands. He was only following the advice Sansa had given him; she should've been relieved but the way Daenerys seemed to respond to him made her grab her goblet and down the rest of her wine. They look perfect together, she thought, feeling sorry for herself.

"Now, if I were a betting man, I'd say you weren't happy with what looks to be reconciliation between our respective lieges."

"Not now, Lord Tyrion," sighed Sansa, upset with herself that she'd allowed her face to betray her thoughts. She tried to smooth her facial expression and turned to him politely.

"Come, my lady. We should drink and be merry. King's Landing is calling and my sister will finally get her comeuppance." Tyrion's voice was unusually loud and she could see that he was well on his way to a proper drunk. It wasn't a sight she enjoyed and she decided to tell him so.

"I would think it very unbecoming for the Queen's Hand to drown himself in drink before embarking on such a serious endeavor."

"Give me one good reason why I should put this flagon down, my lady." Tyrion had raised it up, along with his goblet, making a show of pouring the rest of the contents into the goblet to the brim.

"There are two I can think of, my lord. One: your queen needs you to keep your wits about you. She is amongst friends here but one never knows. And two: I find your company much more enjoyable when the wine is kept to a minimum."

At that, Tyrion gave a hearty laugh and allowed Sansa to take his goblet and put it down on the table. They smiled at each other and Tyrion took one of her hands and brought it to his lips. She felt a vague warmth come over her and wondered if perhaps Tyrion would be opposed to another night together. It wasn't as if a certain woman was going to miss her company. Sansa looked up to find Daenerys and saw that she and Jon were sitting with Gendry, Davos, and Missandei. They didn't need her. She felt so alone and couldn't help imagining Jon and Daenerys reconciling in other ways. Turning back to Tyrion, she caught a knowing look but it had quickly changed to a mischievous smile. He was still holding her hand.

"Shall I take this to mean you are no longer angry that I asked your queen to keep you away from me?" Sansa asked.

"Our queen had advised me not to take it personally so no, no longer angry," he answered, his thumb drawing little circles on the back of her hand.

It felt good to feel on firm footing again. With Daenerys, she was always on guard. Not sure where her feelings would take her. With Tyrion, it was easy. Safe.

"Oh but I intended you to take it very personally, Lord Tyrion," Sansa replied, teasing him as she brought her face closer to his. She was flirting and she didn't care.

"I see, Lady Sansa. You meant to abuse my body in wickedly sinful ways, thanks by the way, and then tell our queen all about it in exchange for time away from me, is that it?" The boldness of his question made her blush. She was about to answer with some boldness of her own but they were interrupted by Daenerys.

"Lord Tyrion, Lady Sansa, are you enjoying yourselves this evening?" Daenerys asked, trying to look nonchalant but her pointed look at Sansa let on she was very bothered by her closeness to Tyrion.

Sansa slowly straightened in her seat while Tyrion took a slight step away from Sansa.

"Yes, your Grace," Sansa answered curtly. "I see you and my brother have been enjoying yourselves as well."

Daenerys nodded and then they all three fell into an uncomfortable silence. Sansa didn't like the challenging glare Daenerys was giving her, the fire in her eyes that had imprinted itself onto Sansa's heart. It was obvious she wanted Tyrion to leave them alone. Her jealousy was so obvious, Sansa was sure Tyrion could see it. And Sansa felt the fury within her grow. She has no right to be jealous.

Leaning towards Tyrion's ear, Sansa whispered softly so that only he could hear, "Come to my rooms later."

Tyrion nodded at her and then bowed to Daenerys before walking away to join his brother and Brienne.

Now that they were relatively alone, Daenerys seemed to relax slightly and she smiled apologetically. "I wanted to thank you for your speech earlier, Lady Sansa. You have no idea how you've helped me this evening. And over the last weeks, too." She looked as if she wanted to say more but there were too many people nearby.

Sansa wanted to share in Daenerys's apparent joy but she couldn't. The last several days apart were not so easily undone. What she wanted, she couldn't have, and the two of them couldn't keep ignoring this fact. Daenerys would be leaving soon, off to fight another war, risking her life and taking Jon with her, and Sansa felt bereft. She had no place with them in that future.

"You are too kind, your Grace," she answered evenly, glancing towards the hall and noticing Jon looking at them. Turning back to Daenerys, Sansa stood up.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm very tired. It's been a long day. Goodnight, your Grace." Without waiting for a reply, Sansa walked away and out of the hall.

*::::*

In her rooms, Sansa quickly changed into her sleep dress and waited for Tyrion. She couldn't get images of Jon and Daenerys together out of her mind. Knowing what Daenerys looked like naked and aroused as she'd been at the hot spring didn't help matters. Nor did the memory of what Daenerys felt like in her arms, her lips panting against her mouth, her tongue so soft and wet. Sansa hated feeling so conflicted, hated how this jealousy battled with the rational part of her mind that told her Daenerys belonged with Jon. She wanted a distraction and hoped that Tyrion would be able to provide that for her.

A short rap on the door alerted her to his presence at the door and she composed herself before letting him in and closing the door. Tyrion looked surprised to see her already in her sleep clothes and she smiled confidently.

"I wasn't sure at first what you wanted when you invited me to your rooms, my lady. But I did hope," Tyrion said with a smile.

"I don't want conversation tonight, Tyrion. I just want to feel. Is that all right?"

His eyes widened at her words and Sansa could see that he looked concerned for her well-being. She didn't feel herself and she could tell she wasn't hiding it very well. Sansa decided to push through it and hoped Tyrion would follow.

Kneeling in front of him, she leaned forward to kiss him. His lips were reluctant at first and she pulled back slightly while at the same time worked on removing his gambeson. Tyrion looked into her eyes and then crashed his lips against hers and she brought her own hands to loosen the ties of her sleep dress. But then Sansa became distracted when he brought his lips to her neck. She tried to lose herself in his kiss but every time she closed her eyes she saw Daenerys. And when she opened her eyes, she felt the lump grow in her throat, knowing that she would never have Daenerys in this way. Sansa gasped for air and she wanted to cry when Tyrion took those gasps for pleasure, bringing his mouth back to hers. Her eyes shut tightly, grasping for the ties of his tunic, trying to rush through this so she could forget that it was Daenerys she wanted.

But then Tyrion stopped. And he slowly pulled away to stare at Sansa.

"That kiss wasn't meant for me," he said accusingly. He took a small step back, their hands still on each other's shoulders but he firmly held her away from him, waiting for her response.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Tyrion," she said, trying to pull him back towards her.

"Stop," Tyrion said, disentangling himself and stepping out of her reach. "I've kissed enough women in my life to know when they're thinking about someone else."

Sansa could say nothing. She didn't want to lie to Tyrion. But she could not admit how her feelings for Daenerys had changed from dislike to something else entirely. Tyrion's face fell at her silence and he grabbed his gambeson angrily, walking to the door. He looked like he wanted to say something else but instead he just opened it. There stood Daenerys, wearing a robe over her nightgown, hand raised as if to knock, the surprise on her face at seeing the two of them quickly changing to anger and something more dangerous.

Tyrion, ever the quick one, said, "Ah, my beautiful rival. I see you're prepared for bed. Come to join us? There will be no need to share, your Grace. She is all yours."

He pushed his way out and left the two of them behind. Sansa realized she was still on her knees and quickly stood up.

"I see, Lady Sansa," Daenerys said coldly. "I thought perhaps we could chat in your room like we used to, but I suppose Lord Tyrion gave you all that you needed."

Daenerys looked as if she would yell at her but the quiet disappointment was even worse. Sansa's guilt was on her face. There wasn't anything she could say. It was how it looked: Tyrion in her rooms, her hair disheveled, her lips pink and swollen from kissing him, her sleep dress practically falling off her body.

"I never seem to understand you Starks."

The anger on Daenerys's face smoldered. Her eyes looked Sansa up and down and her hand was on the still open door. Sansa could see the indecision, the tension building between them. They were either going to fight or Daenerys was going to strip her naked. Her arousal burned for the latter. She could see it, too, in Daenerys's eyes. They widened when Sansa moved her right hand to the top of her sleep dress, beginning to push it down off her shoulders. Sansa was tired of fighting her feelings.

Daenerys closed the door, walked to Sansa, and placed her left hand over Sansa's right. She stared into her eyes and Sansa wanted to drown in the fire and need she saw burning there. But instead of pulling down, Daenerys pulled the sleep dress up and repositioned it properly on her shoulders. Sansa could feel Daenerys's hot breath against her face as they looked at one another.

"Not like this, Sansa. Not while I can still smell him on you," Daenerys whispered. Sansa's eyes closed in shame. She felt like a fool for thinking throwing herself at Daenerys could make up for all the confused signals she'd been sending her these last weeks, as if Daenerys could just ignore that she'd come upon Tyrion in her rooms.

"Goodnight," Daenerys said, her voice low with sadness, and left Sansa alone.


A/N: People don't always make choices that reflect their true desires or communicate when they should. Hence all the angsty relationship stories.

Thanks for the reviews on the previous chapter. You're all too kind.

youko747: I'm glad you liked all the twists!

0ww0: Thank you!

Michelle: So glad you're still enjoying it.

Jo: work is hard to get motivated for when I'm in the homestretch of a story, lol