A/N: More angst. Sorry! Don't hate me.


Chapter 18

Daenerys should've gone straight back to her bedchamber but she was furious and hurt. She'd gone to talk to Sansa because of the way Sansa behaved during the feast. One moment she was singing her praises as if she was the closest thing to her heart and the next the huge rift between them returned, one which Sansa seemed intent on making larger. Daenerys knew she had only herself to blame for the way she'd pushed Sansa away. The pain of longing had become too great and she'd needed time to breathe. But now that she had, she knew she wanted her friend back, the closeness they'd built. Even if Sansa wouldn't return her deeper affection, Daenerys convinced herself she could be happy with just friendship.

Seeing Tyrion in her bedchamber, however… that well-kissed look she had on her... that was bad enough. It became worse when Sansa had begun offering herself to her. The look in her eyes was almost like a challenge. The attraction between them was stronger than ever but to take Sansa on a dare wasn't what she wanted. Hadn't Sansa also told her that friends was all they could ever be? How could Sansa go from Tyrion to her in the same night? Her mind went over what she'd seen and it was obvious from how Tyrion looked and spoke, and how he had opened the door, that she didn't interrupt them. It seemed to have ended before it really begun. But that didn't make her feel better. Daenerys still wanted to yell at someone. She wanted to yell at Jon. If he'd never pushed her away this wouldn't have happened, she wouldn't be feeling this way. And now Jon wasn't pushing her away. He had been different the last several days and was so different in the Great Hall; they had conversed easily and he'd been friendly and gracious with her, leading her around to talk to different people. It felt like he was hers again and he made an effort to be the connection to the North she'd needed him to be. Daenerys tightened her robe, gestured to Grey Worm to follow behind her, and went to Jon's rooms.

When she had reached his bedchamber door, she almost knocked but decided to walk in unannounced. She found him sitting in a chair in front of the fire. He was still partially dressed, breeches and a tunic but barefoot, as if he'd been distracted during the act of getting ready for sleep and needed to think.

"Can't sleep either?" Jon asked, pointing to the chair next to him. Daenerys hesitated but took a deep breath to calm her anger and went to sit next to him.

"She gave you a wonderful speech, didn't she? I hope you thanked her."

His tone was dry with a hint of bitterness and Daenerys was confused with his mood. When they were in the Great Hall together, he had been relaxed and friendly.

"Are you all right, Jon?"

He turned to look at her then. The fire in his eyes looked as if it were really there.

"At first I wasn't sure but I knew when I saw how you looked at her during her speech."

She blinked and was tempted to turn away but held steady, waiting. Daenerys wondered if he would explode in a jealous rage but he just took a deep breath and the fire went out of his eyes.

"I can't blame you, really. She did everything for you that I should've done. When the Lords were cold to you, I should've helped bridge that divide. I should've been the one connecting you with my people. I should've helped build the alliances you needed."

"Jon…" she tried.

"When I pushed you away, you needed a friend. I can only imagine how lonely you felt without an ally here. I should've been there for you. It should've been me."

"Please…"

"Don't, Dany," he said coldly.

Daenerys turned away to look at the fire, letting the flames steel her features against him. She would not say anything to him about Sansa. She would not confirm anything because he had made it clear that his feelings for her had disgusted him.

Jon sighed, dropping his face into his hands.

"Do you even still love me?" he asked, his voice sounding small and muffled.

"You're the one who rejected me, remember?" Daenerys responded, the anger and resentment in her voice unmistakable. Is there still love? Can I love him again?

Jon looked up at her and Daenerys turned to him. His eyes were wild with lust and possessiveness. Her heartbeat quickened. It had been too long and her frustrations over these several weeks needed release. He grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. With one arm wrapping around her waist he pulled her against him and kissed her.

The kiss was soft at first but then demanding and when she parted her lips for him, she felt the growl vibrate in his chest. Daenerys tried to push images of Sansa out of her mind. The way she looked at the hot spring below Winterfell, the desire she saw earlier tonight when Sansa had offered herself. She poured her rage and bitterness into this kiss, feeling Jon respond in kind. They had gotten to the point where he normally would've pulled away by now in disgust and she braced herself for it, opening her eyes to see his face. As he devoured her lips and then her neck, she could feel him tense and see his eyes close more tightly. This is it, this is where he leaves me.

Jon did pull away but only to remove his tunic. He roughly loosened the knot of her robe and yanked it off her. She was now in just her nightgown. Without thinking she slapped him. He needed to know how much he had hurt her with his previous rejections. He needed to know that what was happening now did not make up for any of it. The fire returned to his eyes and he pulled her against him once more. She bit his neck hard while he walked her back until she was sitting on the table that was next to her chair. Jon stared into her eyes for only a moment before he lifted up the skirts of her nightgown and then lifted her up against him, wrapping her legs around him.

Daenerys didn't recognize him. Their previous couplings had been passionate but he had always been in awe of her, giving her the sense that he believed he didn't deserve her. But now he was going to take her in raw anger, asserting himself in a way he'd never done with her before. There was still tenderness, though; she could see it in his eyes behind the fire. But even though she couldn't stop the moans and whimpers escaping her now as he trailed kisses down her neck and to her chest, she was furious that it was her closeness with Sansa that seemed to push him to do this. Daenerys pushed against his chest and when he lifted his head, she slapped him again. In answer, he punished her lips and neck with harsher kisses.

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back but a flash of red-hair appeared behind her eyelids and she had to open them, refusing to let herself fuck the two of them in her mind. Daenerys's anger flared again. She tried not to think of Sansa in Tyrion's arms, her lips on his. She couldn't punish Sansa right now but she could punish Jon. Daenerys would remind him of who he was; that he couldn't pretend he wasn't crossing that line that had disgusted him so much. She fisted her right hand in his hair, pulling his head back sharply, and whispered his true name against his lips, "Aegon Targaryen."

Instead of pulling away from her, Jon's lustful eyes darkened even more and he bit out, "Daenerys Targaryen."

Hoping to get lost in him, she reached down to loosen the ties on his pants and he carried her over to the bed.

*::::*

Sansa sat silently on her bed for a long time before she allowed herself to think over what happened. Then she felt ashamed at how she had acted and pulled on her robe. She paced in her bedchamber for a while, arguing with herself. She didn't know who she should apologize to first, Tyrion or Daenerys. Tyrion hadn't deserved that, how she had tried to use him to soothe her own misery over someone else. And now she may have lost another friend.

In the end she found herself walking out in the corridor with thoughts of speaking with the queen, needing to speak with her before the night was done, hoping to salvage the last shreds of their friendship.

And then she stopped.

A feeling came over her and even though her pounding heart told her to go back and lock herself in her rooms until morning, she slowly made her way to Jon's rooms.

When Sansa reached the corridor that held Jon's rooms, her heart sank when she saw the form of Grey Worm standing outside Jon's bedchamber door. Her mind yelled at her to turn back. Still she walked closer. Not even Grey Worm's slight shake of his head could stop her. It was only when she heard the faint sounds coming from his rooms that Sansa stopped moving. The sting in her eyes made her want to scream but she bit the inside of her cheek instead, drawing blood. Sansa was gutted and promptly turned around, rushing away in jealousy and heartache.

*::::*

Lying on Jon's bed, Daenerys's head resting on his shoulder, both catching their breath, neither one of them said anything. Daenerys knew both were thinking about what this meant. She was confused. She thought reuniting with Jon would bring relief, that it would feel like all the pieces being put back into place. Instead she felt empty.

"You were different," Jon said.

"So were you," she replied, rising, feeling something unwelcome growing in the pit of her stomach. It was guilt. Had she betrayed Sansa?

Of course not, she thought. She is not mine and I am not hers. And yet… hadn't she felt betrayed over finding Sansa with Tyrion?

"Why did you say that name?" Jon asked, distracting her from her thoughts. She looked at him.

"To remind you. To make sure you weren't trying to prove something."

Jon looked away and Daenerys knew she wasn't far off the mark.

"Dany… I know that this doesn't mean… just know that I want to try, however you want it to be. It would be a prudent match considering everything. And I don't want anyone to ever hurt you because of me."

Daenerys got out of the bed and began dressing. Jon sat up and pulled on his pants. When she had tied the knot of her robe, he stood up and walked over to her. He reached a hand to cup her cheek and she smiled sadly, regretting her own part in their troubles. She could've been more patient during his struggle with his identity. But she wasn't. And now things were different.

"What we had before… it just doesn't feel that way anymore and I need to think on how I feel about that," Daenerys said softly.

"You mean how you feel about Sansa," he stated without reproach and for that Daenerys was thankful.

"It's over," she whispered, for the first time confirming his suspicions out loud. Looking into his eyes, she saw a flash of something. Relief? Concern?

"You don't sound so sure of that," Jon answered. "Growing up a bastard in this castle did teach me a bit about how to stay silent and observe. I've watched the two of you." Jon looked as if he wanted to turn away but he held her gaze.

"Jon," she sighed. "I don't know what to say."

And she didn't. He was offering everything she had wanted from him. Together, they would be an unstoppable force. Daenerys was wary, though. What just happened between them did not feel like goodbye but it didn't feel like a beginning either. Neither of them used words of love. It was a release of anger and resentment. But love could grow from this, could it not? she asked herself. She'd be a fool to throw it away for something that can never be. It can never be. The ache in her heart at that thought made her want to run to Sansa's rooms but Jon's offer reminded her of a Queen's duty to the realm.

Jon's sad eyes seemed to understand her struggle.

"Take your time," Jon said, walking her to the door.

Daenerys nodded and left the room, knowing she had a lot of thinking to do. But in the walk towards her bedchamber, she realized there wasn't really much to think about. The sinking feeling in her stomach told her that she'd already made her choice. It had been rash and in anger and she should've stayed behind for a talk with Sansa, to find out why Tyrion had been there and why Sansa had used that moment to try to seduce her. The time for that talk was gone now. Or rather, that talk couldn't change the fact that the alliance with Jon was now hers for the taking; the chance to make sure no one could use Jon against her. Who knows what could've happened with Sansa if their circumstances had been different, if she hadn't been a queen and Sansa hadn't been responsible for the future of Winterfell. But these were their fates and Daenerys felt those responsibilities like she hadn't felt them in weeks. Even Sansa had urged duty over passion which was why they had resisted as much as they did. So many things about being with Sansa were wrong and many more things about being with Jon were right. There wasn't really a choice to be made, not really.

*::::*

The next morning, after seeing to the farewell of Lord Royce and the northern armies, and completely ignoring the presence of Jon and Daenerys as she did so, Sansa went to the Godswood. She wanted the peace of the wood to calm her, to take away the pain she felt in her heart. Sansa wanted that feeling of serenity, that knowledge that things were working out as they should.

It was very cold and Sansa was glad she had put on her heavy fur cloak. The morning air was peaceful. Sansa felt like she could breathe. But she was still troubled by last night's events.

Then she heard soft footfalls and she knew she wasn't alone. Sansa turned around to see Tyrion walking towards her. She gave a weak smile, feeling sorry over what she'd done to him.

Tyrion walked up to stand beside her and they each took in the silence of the wood for a spell before he turned to her to speak.

"You know, when I suggested you give her a chance, I was only thinking of political alliances. Had I known you had any inclinations towards your own sex, I would've advised you to stay far away from her, lest you succumb to that dreadful state the rest of us find ourselves in when it comes to the queen. Lord Varys had shared the rumors but I suppose I refused to believe it until last night."

Sansa stared straight ahead. She did not want to tell him anything she wasn't ready to admit to herself.

"What inspired your feelings towards her?" asked Sansa quietly. It was an unfair question but nothing was fair anymore and Sansa did not want the attention on herself.

He looked at her sadly, no doubt remembering that she had already accused him of loving Daenerys the morning after their night together. A look of resignation crossed Tyrion's face.

"It began as admiration. She came from nothing, no power, sold off to a savage. And she achieved so much. Yes, she's young and beautiful but the ideals were good. Some roughness in how to achieve them but that's where capable advisors come in. If she'd been raised properly, ruling would come more naturally but she's getting there. And her story reminded me of you back in King's Landing, young and at the mercy of predators who sought to use you as a tool for their own gain. I've always had a soft spot for vulnerable women who grow to be stronger than everyone around them."

Sansa nodded and again let the silence come between them. Worried that she'd ruined another friendship, she didn't want to say anything more in case she hurt him further.

Tyrion broke the silence again. "I admit I thought things were heading in a different direction for us at one point. Wouldn't you agree?"

She let the question hang in the air as she thought about it. At one point in time, Sansa had very seriously thought she could cultivate a love for him. It felt like a truth that she owed him so Sansa nodded.

"Well then, there you go. Do not feel bad for me, my lady. These things happen and our friendship will remain close regardless."

"You are truly good, my lord," Sansa replied, and she held out her hand. He took it and squeezed it gently, before winking at her and turning to walk away. Tyrion was indeed hurt but Sansa felt relieved that he found it within himself to not let their friendship be affected by the change in her feelings.

*::::*

It was perhaps not the smartest decision to go to the midday meal in the Great Hall but Sansa wasn't thinking too clearly. The hall was mostly empty due to the departure of the northern armies. Her relief at not seeing Daenerys was also paired with disappointment. She was not a person who would normally seek out emotional pain but a part of her wanted to yell at Daenerys over what she had done. Sansa was so confused and hurt and wanted to fling her goblet across the hall.

Sansa's scowl deepened when she saw Daenerys walk into the hall, avoiding eye contact. Missandei wasn't with her and neither was Jon. The two of them at the high table in a mostly empty hall made the situation incredibly awkward.

I should leave.

But Sansa didn't stand up. Instead she slowly poked at her food, occasionally taking a bite, and pretended she was completely alone, letting her icy mask protect her from any looks Daenerys tried to direct her way. She could definitely feel her gaze but Sansa controlled her facial features, not letting Daenerys know she was thinking about her at all.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Daenerys stand and then pause as if deciding which direction to go. Instead of leaving, she walked towards Sansa. Sansa drew in a slow breath and turned to face her when Daenerys sat in Jon's chair next to her.

"Lady Sansa, I apologize for coming to your rooms late last night. After the things I said the other day, it was unfair of me to have any expectations of... well… the speech you gave last night made me realize that I was perhaps too harsh. I was hoping we could make amends?"

"Was this what you were thinking about after leaving my rooms?" Sansa asked coldly. "Or was it after you sought satisfaction elsewhere?"

"Sansa…" Daenerys stammered, her eyes widening in recognition of what Sansa was referencing.

Sansa stood up. "Forgive my words, your Grace. I should not speak of what the queen does behind closed doors. Nor is it my intention to make a future sister of mine uncomfortable."

Before she could walk away she felt Daenerys grab her wrist and Sansa glanced around quickly. There were a few stares directed their way; it would be an insult to the queen to pull away in public and she was angry at Daenerys for taking advantage of that fact. Sansa reluctantly sat back down in her chair.

"Nothing is settled," Daenerys whispered. "And if it were, I wouldn't officially announce a betrothal with Jon until after I defeat Cersei."

The sting of tears came to Sansa's eyes. Not an apology, no remorse, only a clarification. She glared at Daenerys as the tears welled. Sansa didn't care if Daenerys saw them, didn't care if she knew how hurt she felt. And she could see Daenerys try to blink back her own tears, which only made Sansa feel worse. Looking down towards her arm, she saw that Daenerys's hand was still on her wrist and she let her tears fall as she took Daenerys's hand in hers. Her heart began racing and Sansa closed her eyes, for a moment enjoying the attraction she still felt for this woman, the tenderness that made her want to lean forward towards her.

"It's a good match, Daenerys. I look forward to counting you as my family."

"Oh Sansa…" Daenerys sighed sadly. "I wish… I wish so many things were different…"

"But they're not," interrupted Sansa, squeezing Daenerys's hand. She looked around, trying to find a way to escape, feeling like she was about to break down. Sansa looked back at Daenerys with urgency.

Daenerys suddenly pulled her to her feet.

"Come," Daenerys whispered.

Sansa wiped her eyes and let Daenerys pull her out of the Great Hall. They walked with linked arms, to give the impression of warm friendship to those passersby. She felt dizzy, the air stifling, enjoying the feel of Daenerys's warmth against her far too much. Daenerys seemed to feel the same for she was breathless, and she pulled her along even faster. And finally they were inside Daenerys's solar and Sansa could breathe again.

Daenerys walked to the table and poured a little wine for herself, drinking it quickly. She looked like she was preparing to give an explanation but all Sansa could think about was that they were alone together, alone as they hadn't been in days. Before Daenerys could speak, Sansa pulled her into a hug.

"I'm sorry," sobbed Sansa into her neck. She didn't really know which thing she was apologizing for; Tyrion or how she had mistreated Daenerys's feelings. She just missed her friend, she missed her touch, she missed the way things were. Maybe she was just sorry for the state of things, for the way things had to be.

"No, I'm sorry," Daenerys answered, tightly holding onto her, her tears falling hotly against Sansa's cheek. "I've missed you, I've missed you so much."

Sansa could feel Daenerys pressing kisses along her jawline and knew she should pull away but she didn't. Then Daenerys's hands were on her face and her mouth was on hers. Her aggressiveness took Sansa's breath away. Sansa had led their prior kisses and this was different. Daenerys walked her back until Sansa felt herself pressed against a wall, Daenerys's kisses messy and demanding. And it felt so good. Her lips were so soft, her arms were so strong, and Sansa wanted everything Daenerys could make her feel. But it was also painful. She tasted their tears and the remnants of wine Daenerys had just had as she braced herself to discuss Jon. It reminded her of what she couldn't have, of how these feelings didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. She tried not to think that Jon had tasted these lips just hours ago.

Despite her jealousy, Sansa's arousal increased. Daenerys moaned when Sansa let her hands move up to Daenerys's chest, gently pressing against her breasts. Recklessness fueled Sansa's kisses down Daenerys's throat. She was panting, practically sobbing, none of this made sense and Sansa tried to center her mind, tried to think about what the worst consequence would be if she followed through with her kisses. But she didn't care. Because I… Sansa pulled back to look into her eyes. She felt it in her heart, felt everything she'd been denying.

Because I…

And Sansa's heart ached that Daenerys's future was with him and not with her.

She brought her hands to Daenerys's neck and whispered into her mouth, "I heard you last night with him, that's how I know. I wanted to find you, to apologize." Sansa left the rest unsaid. It hurt too much to think of it.

Daenerys pulled back to look into her eyes. Tears were streaming down both their faces. Daenerys looked contrite but also resigned, her eyes telling Sansa she would not try to argue with her about this.

I don't have to push her to him, she's already chosen him.

Sansa felt her anger return in earnest. She knew being with Jon was what she'd told her to do, what she was pushing her to do right now, but that didn't make it hurt any less; it didn't make Daenerys's actions any less confusing. Was Daenerys that angry with her after seeing her with Tyrion? Or had it been a prearranged assignation and that's why she'd rejected Sansa? Why was she kissing her now if she was going to wed Jon?

She pushed past Daenerys, stepping towards the door, her back towards Daenerys. Sansa didn't really want to know those answers. They didn't matter. She was sure Daenerys had had similar questions about Sansa's behavior with Tyrion and her hypocrisy was not lost on her. The only thing that mattered was making sure Daenerys stayed with Jon and away from her.

Daenerys didn't say anything but Sansa heard her ragged breathing. How she longed for Daenerys to reach out for her instead, to try to convince her they could make it work. Her heart broke when she knew Daenerys wouldn't. Sansa ran out of the room before she could crumble in front of her.

*::::*

Over the next few days, Sansa thought often of that last kiss. It had felt like goodbye, and she should let it be their goodbye, but it wasn't how she wanted their final parting to be. Sansa wanted to part in friendship and with civil words. But any time she thought of going to Daenerys she didn't trust herself to not pull Daenerys into an embrace, an embrace that led to more. So she avoided her, taking her meals in her rooms. Sansa tried not to dwell on how Daenerys didn't send anyone to seek her out or seek her out on her own. The likely reason was that Sansa had finally succeeded in pushing her away. Or she doesn't care about me the way I do her.

Sansa stood on the wall overlooking the western side of Winterfell, towards the Wolfswood, remembering how much fun she'd had that day with Daenerys, how imposing her dragons had been. Sansa knew her attraction to her had existed before then but Daenerys had worked herself into Sansa's heart that day without Sansa even realizing it. But she realized it now.

She now truly understood why Lyanna had run off with Rhaegar, why Robb had broken faith with the Freys to wed Talisa. A similar choice stood before her and it was taking every lesson in duty, every imagined path to destruction, to stop her from running to Daenerys and declaring it. If Sansa did, and they embarked on the 'more' Daenerys said she'd wanted, strife would likely arise against Daenerys amongst the northern lords. Rumors and suspicions about the true reason for Sansa's change of heart in supporting the queen would undermine their loyalty to her and to Daenerys. Sansa had to keep the peace, she had to keep Daenerys safe.

Daenerys, her heart whispered. Tears welled in her eyes as Sansa let the depth of her feelings wash over her. Daenerys would be leaving tomorrow, their friendship was in ruins, and she could finally understand the songs but her heart would only be able to sing the ones of heartbreak and longing.

Her reverie was broken by Jon's approach. He walked along the wall towards her and stood silently next to her. She blinked back her tears and waited. After a while, Sansa wondered if he meant to speak at all.

"Have the two of you settled the terms of your relationship yet?" Sansa asked, looking at him. He seemed thoughtful, like something was on his mind.

There was an awkward pause. "Not yet. She has much on her mind." He looked at her but then looked away.

He knows.

Sansa was about to reply but he spoke again.

"The truth is we haven't been alone since the night of the farewell feast. We've spoken but not about us. It feels better than it was but it is different. I wouldn't be surprised if she decided against it."

This would have normally alarmed Sansa but she also knew what they sounded like in the throes of passion. He and Daenerys will work it out without any interference on my part, she thought bitterly.

Sansa looked around, the Wolfswood in the distance, the soldiers making their preparations. Winterfell would be quiet soon after they've all gone.

"Look at it, Jon. This is what's important. Our family, Winterfell, the North. You will go south and keep us safe from there, and where you can keep her safe. I will stay and keep us safe from here. I will marry, have children. That is what I want."

She could feel Jon look at her while she continued to look straight ahead.

"A woman in ten thousand," he murmured under his breath.

"What was that?" she asked, turning to him. She'd heard but she didn't understand.

Instead of repeating himself he said, "They should've chosen you instead of me."

"And if they had, we'd all be dead," chuckled Sansa. "Think back to when you first met her at Dragonstone. Now imagine me in your place. How would that have gone?"

He laughed but there was sadness in his eyes. Sansa didn't want him to be sad for her.

She continued, "I wouldn't have bent the knee to save lives. My pride, my stubbornness. She's lucky to have you, someone who can make those compromises."

"You've done what I wasn't able to do, Sansa. The people have come around. I gave speeches railing against their thick heads but you were the bridge, you showed them how."

"Sometimes I can be smart," Sansa said with a knowing smirk.

"You're the smartest person I know. Arya agrees."

"I have the mind. But you have the heart."

Jon gave her another long look and took her hand in his.

"You have the heart, too, Sansa."

She could tell he was speaking of Daenerys again. Sansa looked down, feeling ashamed. She'd kissed the woman he loved, had tempted her away from him. He had to be upset at how, yet again, she had failed him as a sister.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked, needing to know he didn't resent her.

Jon pulled her into a hug. A few tears fell from her eyes but she stayed silent.

"I'm not angry. I've thought a lot these last few days," Jon whispered. "Never regret opening your heart. This life is full of shit and you've had more than your share. You deserve happiness, too."

He hugged her tighter and then whispered something that made her heart stop. "It doesn't have to be like this… you don't have to let duty kill your love… I could step aside or you two could…"

"Thank you, Jon," she interrupted, pulling back out of the hug, forcing a smile on her face. "It's how it should be."

He wiped the few tears from her cheek but he still looked upset.

"But…"

"No. It's done. It's what I want." A truth and a lie but what else could Sansa say? She had to remain strong so that he could leave Winterfell without feeling like he'd wronged her.

"Be careful in the south, Jon. Stark men do not fare well there."

Jon looked at her, unsure of himself. She knew he wanted to say more but her eyes urged him not to. Her heart couldn't take it. Let this go, Jon.

"I'm not a Stark," he said finally, giving her a gentle smile.

Sansa smiled again and took his hand. "Yes, you are."

*::::*

Night had fallen and Sansa almost went to the dinner meal in the Great Hall but at the last moment decided against it. Not going didn't stop her feelings, however. In spite of her efforts to stay away, and all her stoic bravery in that conversation with Jon, her thoughts were still consumed with seeing Daenerys one more time alone to say goodbye. She's leaving tomorrow. What if Cersei wins? What if Daenerys dies thinking I hate her? What if she dies never knowing how I really felt? Then Sansa would remind herself that Daenerys's relationship with Jon was more important, that Daenerys may have desired her but it was not to the extent Sansa felt. She would also remind herself that Jon was at least good; he'd stayed loyal all the way through to the end. Sansa had betrayed her and didn't deserve her. She was mired in fear and confusion, and her inability to make a decision frustrated her.

It was the middle of the night when her resolve melted at last. Sansa hastily pulled on a robe over her nightgown, pushed aside her misgivings, and conveniently ignored that a more proper time would be after the morning meeting with Daenerys's council. She was nervous as she traversed the corridors at night without an escort but she did not want anyone with her. When she finally arrived at Daenerys's rooms, Grey Worm was standing guard and glanced at her. Before she could say anything he turned to the door and gave a knock. That's when she noticed the light coming from the bottom of the door. Daenerys was awake. Sansa walked closer and waited for Daenerys to open the door. When she did, Sansa saw the surprised expression which slowly changed to a small smile. And that smile undid the lie Sansa had told herself about why she had come.


A/N: This chapter brought to you by copious amounts of Siouxsie & The Banshees and dark chocolate.

I'm flying through this now. Look for the next update by the end of the week.

:

Michelle: Thank you. It was an emotional chapter to write. As was this one.

Jo: Thank you so much. There are some great Daensa stories out there so this means a lot. Oh, and I've been outlining the ending and I think I'm finally happy with the angle I'm going with. Can't wait for you to read it when it's done.

0ww0: Thank you. I'm pouring my heart into this one and I'm flattered that it touches others.