A/N: The end of ch 19 put me in a sad, breakup-like daze and I feel like Sansa is in that, too. "True Love Waits" by Radiohead pretty much fits that mood.
Chapter 20
In the weeks after Daenerys left, Sansa worked hard to stay distracted. Visits to Winter town, tours of the keep, keeping track of the food stores, anything she could think of. But it was never enough. Daenerys was gone and the emptiness in Sansa couldn't be filled. She would write letters in her mind, random observances of her day, updates on little Falon, things she thought Daenerys would like to know. Writing them down was out of the question, however. There was no doubt in her mind that Daenerys didn't want to hear from her.
But Sansa would see her wherever she went. Her small figure standing strong and proud in the snow, the soft waves of her hair as it cascaded over her shoulders. Sansa would hear her laughter and remember how her face lit up as she did so. How they had laughed together that first night together in Sansa's bed. How they would share secret smiles. How they had kissed each other the first time, when Sansa was desperate not to lose her. How they had kissed each other the last time, just before she had broken Daenerys's heart.
Sansa's mind would wander when she was in front of petitioners, wondering how Daenerys would respond to a particular grievance. During meals, Sansa would have to remind herself to be attentive but would still lose track of conversations. She didn't like being in her rooms because in them she would remember how they would stare at one another, lying in her bed, longing in their eyes but too afraid to do anything about it; or remember the time when she had done something, pleasuring herself in front of Daenerys, but again letting her fear stop her from doing more; or have to endure the quiet moment just before waking, when she would imagine opening her eyes to a sleeping Daenerys beside her, only to have to blink away the tears when she found herself alone.
Sansa wasn't quite sure why Tyrion stayed behind but he'd told her that he would soon be relieved of his duties as Hand to the Queen and asked to stay, which she allowed. Sansa would often wonder if he'd been tasked to spy on her but she didn't ask. Tyrion kept his distance but she'd kept an eye on him to make sure he wasn't receiving news he might try to keep from her. Not that she really thought he would, but her worry over Daenerys wouldn't let her alone. Bran, for some reason, wouldn't give her any updates and so Maester Wolkan received frequent visits as she inquired after arriving ravens. She often stood on the outer wall of Winterfell, looking south, as if trying to will some shred of news to arrive.
When the first raven arrived that said Jon and Daenerys had wiped out Euron's ships upon arriving at Dragonstone, she went to the Godswood to pray in thankfulness. It was a sparse message, typical of Jon, and there was no other news, but knowing Daenerys was still alive was enough.
It would be another couple of weeks before Wolkan approached her while she was in the yard, saying a raven had come from King's Landing. Sansa broke Jon's seal and read it: they'd won, Cersei was dead, and for loyalty and service to the realm the North would be an independent kingdom with Sansa named Queen in the North. Ravens would be sent across the land announcing Daenerys's victory and the status of the North. Sansa was stunned. Looking up at Wolkan, she told him she would be in the Godswood and asked him to send for Tyrion. He scurried away and she glanced again at the message. The North is free. Why would she do this? Why? It should feel like a victory and instead it felt like an even greater loss.
*::::*
Sansa wasn't in the Godswood for very long before Tyrion approached, holding a scroll of his own that was no doubt from Daenerys. Her hands wanted to grab it from him, to see what she'd written.
"Details about how they won?" Sansa asked.
"Yes. Minimal loss of life, the city surrendered almost immediately after the dragons took out the city's defenses."
"And Cersei?"
"Poisoned during the battle. Her Hand, Qyburn. He likely thought he had a better chance at survival if he brought down Daenerys's enemy himself but his treason for it is death regardless. Sentence has likely already been carried out."
"Your brother?"
"I just spoke with him," he replied sadly. "Brienne is with him now."
Sansa nodded. She wanted to feel sympathy for Tyrion but nothing could stop the satisfaction she felt at knowing that Cersei was finally gone. It's over.
Tyrion glanced at the scroll in her hand and Sansa passed it over to him. After a moment, he handed the one from Daenerys to her. Sansa slowly read it over. It was a short message with the details he'd already shared and the news about the North. But the last part made her breath catch and her heart squeeze tightly. Jon had not included it in his message to her. He and Daenerys were betrothed, to be kept quiet for now, but the official announcement would come after her coronation.
"Is this in her hand?" she asked softly, fingers moving over the lettering.
"It is," he replied.
She could feel Tyrion's eyes on her and she held her breath steady as they returned their respective messages to each other.
"When you declared for her, I thought she'd won you but you ended up winning her, didn't you? She risks future entanglements with other kingdoms by freeing the North. Why do you think she's done so?"
"Perhaps because I was able to convince her that we'd earned it," said Sansa vaguely, still not quite believing that Daenerys would give this to her, not after her betrayal.
Tyrion gave her a disbelieving stare but she held eye contact until he relented and turned away. Does he know? Did she tell him what I nearly did?
"Yes, yes, it's a good message. And one we'll sell hard to the northern lords to keep their loyalty to you and friendliness towards her," Tyrion said. He didn't look at her as he spoke again. "The queen and I would speak often of how to keep the kingdoms on friendly terms, and one of the ways we'd discussed was calling the Wardens to King's Landing for frequent visits, annual meetings and such. She also would've had to visit on the occasional tour, visiting the people, reminding her lords of her authority. But with the North as an independent kingdom…"
"There will not be a reason to see her again for many years, at least," Sansa interrupted, understanding his point. "Delegates would do all the negotiating between our kingdoms."
Sansa looked away and tried not to let Tyrion see the pain she felt at the prospect of not seeing Daenerys again. It shouldn't have surprised her and yet it did, the pain quickly turning to a frustrated anger.
"Will you compose a proper response to her, thanking her and so forth? I will review and sign it later," said Sansa, trying to sound cold and indifferent.
"Of course, my lady," Tyrion replied, bowing slightly.
Sansa turned to walk away but his words stopped her.
"Lady Sansa, there's something I wish to discuss with you. Before the queen left she gave me permission to ask for your hand. And if you refuse, I still wish to remain here for a time and serve your kingdom until you and it find your footing."
"What do you mean she gave you permission?" Sansa asked sharply, unable to hide her emotions now.
"I do not believe she meant any offense. She knew I had made a prior offer, one which she took issue with as I was still in her service, but she has since relieved me of that duty. And I believe she only meant for me to know that she had no objection if I wanted to ask you again."
"Is that something you want, Tyrion?" Sansa asked, taken aback, amazed that he would ask again after everything that had happened. And beneath her anger against Daenerys for this 'permission' there was also hurt, this additional effort to push Sansa away from her.
"You are in a sensitive position now, my lady. Lords from everywhere will seek to court you, to seek your power. And if that is your wish, I will utilize all the skills at my disposal, including those of Bran, to help you find the one that best suits you, though that could take a while. It's true, a marriage to a Lannister might ruffle some northern feathers but at least you would know that I would be completely loyal to you. I would never try to undermine your power. And any children we have would be Starks."
Sansa thought it over quietly, wondering if there were other personal motives for this renewal of his proposal. He was sacrificing himself in a way to help her and keep her safe, and she owed him the truth of what marriage to her would mean.
"What about love?" she asked softly. "Your arguments make sense and I am selfish enough to accept but not if you harbor hopes of love for yourself, from me or anyone else. I can only offer you friendship. We will not share rooms, though we will do our duty for heirs. If you have even the smallest hope for more, then I would rather not do this and cause you pain. Is that something you can live with?"
"Do you remember telling me any husband you took must also not love Daenerys Targaryen?" Tyrion asked instead of answering.
Sansa stiffened. She had told him that after he proposed the morning after their night together. Her heart pounded as she realized the honesty that he required of her now.
There was understanding on Tyrion's face when he said, "Well, we're in a strange predicament now, aren't we?" Then he asked softly, "Do you love her?"
Sansa didn't respond. It was a simple question. But it left her breathless. To say it out loud…
"Do you love me?" Tyrion asked in feigned shock.
"Tyrion," answered Sansa, exasperated, suddenly desperate for him to drop this conversation.
"Hmmm, not really a yes, is it?" he said with a smile, as if he hadn't really expected her to say yes. "But you do love her, don't you?"
Sansa felt the tears drop and her breathing became more erratic. Her heart broke just a little bit more knowing that this would be the first time the words would leave her lips, and wished that Daenerys was here instead of Tyrion to hear it. The picture came to her of Daenerys as she declared herself when they were in bed that last night, all the love and hope in her eyes that Sansa hadn't believed existed, real and in front of her for the taking.
"I do. I love her," Sansa whispered and dropped to her knees. Tyrion held her in his arms as she sobbed against him.
"Tyrion," she said suddenly, pulling out of his arms, trying to calm herself. "Knowing how I feel, if you wish to rescind your offer…
"Sansa," he said, hands moving to hold her face to wipe her tears. "We are friends. I'm not going to lie and say that I didn't think we could have had more but those weeks with her showed me a different you. She's made you smile in ways that I've never been able to. Your friendship will be enough for me. Successful marriages between people of our station have been built on less. And you will be hard-pressed to find another man who will be happy or even tolerant with this person you've revealed yourself to be. Now for some delicate questions… have the two of you… um… that is to say…"
Sansa quickly stood up and looked away, uncomfortable with discussing this subject with him.
"Why do you need to know this?" she asked quietly.
"It's not for some perverted thrill, Sansa. I just want to know how you two left things," Tyrion huffed.
"Not in the way I would've liked," Sansa answered slowly.
"So there's something unfinished…" Tyrion looked thoughtful. "She doesn't know how you feel, does she?"
"No. I couldn't bring myself to say the words," Sansa replied.
"But she said them to you?"
She nodded, doing her best not to flinch at the memory of what came after Daenerys had done so.
"She is quite impulsive," he said with a smile. "You could write to her…"
Sansa's mouth opened in shock. "No," she said, shaking her head.
"Hear me out, my lady. If parting is what you desire, it will be better for you to have the closure that comes from knowing what could have been and that your goodbyes are given with love. I saw how the two of you interacted just before she left. There was no resolution there. And you've been a hollow shell ever since. So, I will likely be summoned to King's Landing for the coronation and other Lannister matters, and dragons are much faster than horses."
She couldn't believe what Tyrion had just said. He was actually suggesting that she summon Daenerys to... to… The whole idea was madness. Not just the suggestion but the idea that Daenerys would even come… she'd been so angry and cold with her. Soon enough Sansa will have her own coronation and, if she accepted his offer, afterwards she and Tyrion will be wed. Tyrion didn't know what she'd done, her betrayal, why Daenerys was so angry with her. Sansa shook her head again.
"You are much more unorthodox and generous than I thought you would be about this, my lord," Sansa gently said.
"If you accept me, I don't want you trapped and bound to me like you were before. You will enter our marriage knowing that you are free to love her. In fact, you're a queen now and royal reputations can be harder to tarnish if you are discreet. If occasionally the two of you meet for a political summit somewhere private…" Tyrion trailed off, eyes with a knowing expression. "Write to her. She will come."
"It is too late, Tyrion. It… ended badly. She's gone. Someday I'll tell you what happened. But I appreciate your words. It means more to me than you know that I am able to be my full self with you, and to have you accept it."
Sansa looked at the heart tree and tried to think about marriage to Tyrion, or any man for that matter. The thought of having to hide her feelings exhausted her, which made Tyrion the better prospect, but at the same time she dreaded it. As much as he tried to assure her, she knew that what might have been between them would eventually hurt him. It would be so much easier if her heart was free but it wasn't and likely never would be.
"I will need time to think on your proposal, my lord. Is that all right?" Sansa asked quietly.
"Take all the time you need, my Queen."
Sansa looked at him and smiled, though it did not hold the warmth it should have. Despite knowing things were as they should be, despite getting what she had sought from Daenerys in the first place, and despite being able to look to the future without fear for the first time in years, the pain in Sansa's heart told her that the life ahead of her would be far too long and lonely without Daenerys to share it with.
*::::*
Six weeks later.
Sansa was in her bed reading over various letters and documents before neatly stacking them and sliding them into the drawer of the table next to her bed. She rubbed her eyes. The coronation was coming soon; she'd put it off long enough and the stress of planning was getting to her. She thought again of the events of the last couple of moon turns. The food shipment from Meereen had arrived at White Harbor and distribution had gone well but there was still much to do for a war ravaged region in the middle of winter. The northern armies only recently returned to their homes, having been needed in King's Landing to help restore order and with food distribution when the refugees who had escaped prior to the attack returned to the city. After the news had spread of the North's independence, her lords had hastened to Winterfell and she immediately put a stop to their congratulatory remarks by having Tyrion go over the dire conditions with them so they knew exactly what independence had cost them. She was angry at them and would remind them every year if she had to. The North was not self-sufficient and would not be for many years, if at all. Sansa had also announced that, by her request, Tyrion had hastily negotiated trade agreements with the Six Kingdoms to ensure the North's people would not starve, in addition to a mutual defense agreement. In the coming years, these agreements might be renegotiated but for now, the ties between the North and the Six Kingdoms would remain strong. The lords had groused but they had their Queen in the North, and especially after their vulnerability had been laid out by Tyrion, they complimented Sansa on her wisdom.
Tyrion handled all correspondence with the south. Sansa had told him she was too busy with her own lords and he had the good form not to challenge her. She would not be able to put off writing herself for long; as queen it was her duty to do all she could to maintain the safety of her kingdom and it would eventually be considered rude that the Queen in the North wouldn't deign to write the occasional message to a neighboring ruler. And yet she was afraid of the response Daenerys might give her. Sansa's rule was a struggle now between bickering lords and their vassals jockeying for her favor, not-so-polite inquiries about what was to be done with Last Hearth and the other empty seats, and her constant efforts to not think of Daenerys when her concentration was required. It was getting better but only a little.
There was a knock on her door. The hour was not that late but still Sansa was surprised and annoyed. Pulling on her robe, she walked over and opened it. Her annoyance turned to worry when she saw it was Maester Wolkan, looking frantic.
"Your Grace, I apologize for the hour but Queen Daenerys has just arrived and is coming directly to your rooms."
"She came alone?" Sansa asked, glancing behind him to see if anyone was approaching.
"She had one of her Unsullied soldiers with her but yes, your Grace. They came on her dragon and it scared the men when it landed outside the walls. Her Grace just said she needed to see you as soon as you were able. She sent me ahead but she'll be here soon."
"Thank you, Maester Wolkan," Sansa answered calmly. It was important that she did not project any worry, as if she'd been expecting this visit. "The Queen of the Six Kingdoms is our guest. Please tell the servants to prepare the rooms below mine; a bath should be drawn, and the kitchens should provide a variety of plates of food to be put in her bedchamber. And something for her soldier. I assume they'll be hungry."
"Yes, your Grace," he answered, and hurried away.
Sansa closed the door and began pacing. Brienne was in her own rooms asleep. The Queensguard outside in the corridor had been handpicked but she didn't need protection, did she? Hadn't Arya told her she believed her when Daenerys told her she wouldn't be harmed? Then why is she here? Why come with only one soldier?
She heard the knock on her door and her heart stuttered but it also came with a certain flutter she hadn't felt in weeks. Sansa wished she had had more time to compose herself, to at least dress, but she went to the door and opened it. Grey Worm nodded in greeting, stepped aside, and there she was with wind swept hair, looking more beautiful than she remembered.
They looked at each other for a long moment, letting the time since seeing each other sink in. The flutter in Sansa's chest became stronger and she had to fight against the urge to bow or curtsy. She was a queen now and had to act like it. But Sansa was also nervous. She didn't know how Daenerys would act towards her.
"I'd forgotten how cold it is up here," Daenerys said. "May I come in, your Grace?"
Sansa stepped aside and welcomed Daenerys into her bedchamber. She said, "Yes, I imagine it's quite a shock after King's Landing."
Daenerys looked at her as she passed and there was a hint of a smirk. Sansa resisted quirking an eyebrow in response and before closing the door, she said, "The guest rooms are in flux at the moment. I've chosen the rooms below mine for you. If it pleases you, I'd like Ser Podrick and Ser Brienne to stand watch over your rooms tonight so that Grey Worm can also rest. I'm sure you're both very tired after your long travels. You are safe here, no one would dare cross the person who freed the North, but it would give me peace of mind."
She watched Daenerys give a nod to her and Grey Worm and Sansa spoke quickly with her own guard, telling him to pass along her orders to Podrick and Brienne, that Podrick would stand guard first and Brienne was to relieve him a couple of hours before dawn, and also to bring a cot to the queen's adjoining solar so that Grey Worm wouldn't have to be far from his queen. Then she closed the door and turned back to Daenerys.
Their initial opening had been polite and yet so much was between them now. The fact that she came alone made her keenly aware that Daenerys had left King's Landing without much thought to her own safety. The south would hold Sansa responsible if anything happened to her. And on top of this worry was happiness at seeing her again. Sansa felt more drawn to her than ever.
Walking to the hearth, in which burned a low fire, Daenerys took a seat in Sansa's chair. It was a little thing but it was an act of dominance over Sansa's new royal status that made Sansa smile. She couldn't see her face but she had a feeling Daenerys was smiling, too. Sansa unhurriedly took a chair from her small table and moved it beside Daenerys, then sat down. Her expression was calm and patient as she waited for Daenerys to speak.
Turning to Sansa, Daenerys gave an appraising look.
"You wear it well."
"And what is that, your Grace?"
"The crown."
Sansa nodded slightly and turned to the fire.
"It is heavier than I thought it would be," Sansa said after a pause.
"Spoken like a true queen. Only those who feel the weight of it can have any hope of doing good for their people."
Her words were flattering but several weeks of dealing with flattering lords had taught Sansa to mute her responses. She turned her gaze back to Daenerys but wasn't sure what Daenerys was feeling or thinking.
As if reading her thoughts, Daenerys said, "It is hard to interpret your response to my words. Another sign that I was right in my earlier judgement that you would make a formidable queen. I am glad we are not enemies."
"I'm glad, too," Sansa said quietly, trying to maintain her mask in the face of Daenerys's admission that at least they were not to be at odds with each other. She had no idea where any of this was going or why Daenerys was here but at least they weren't arguing. "How is my brother? How goes the people's adjustment to your rule?"
"Jon is well. He dislikes the warmth but he is kept busy with rebuilding efforts. As a matter of fact, he seems to be thriving in that role. As for the people, per your suggestion, I have taken to making rounds through the city with Ser Davos as a guide. It is much larger and busier than Winter town but I think I'm making progress."
"I made no such suggestion, your Grace."
"Was it not you speaking through Tyrion in one of his letters to me?" Daenerys asked, the smirk on full display now.
Sansa finally allowed a smile but didn't reply.
"You could've written to me yourself," said Daenerys quietly.
"I didn't think you would want to hear from me after…" Sansa whispered. She turned back to the fire. Courtesy was what was required now and she couldn't presume to approach the familiarity they once shared. "I received a letter from Arya. Before she left she expressed an interest in leaving Westeros but apparently she has stayed in King's Landing. Did you have anything to do with that?"
Daenerys smiled. "A certain Lord of Storm's End has managed to hold her interest. I may have suggested to him to try again, this time making sure to tell Arya that she didn't have to be a traditional Lady, and hints may have made their way to her that he was going to have trouble winning over the lords of the Stormlands, that he needed someone he could trust at his side. So far it seems to be working. We shall see."
"Thank you," Sansa said warmly. Perhaps a little too warmly because Daenerys seemed to tense and blink rapidly a few times. Sansa decided to change the subject again.
"And how are you, your Grace? Is it everything you expected?" asked Sansa.
"Yes and no, your Grace. I am no stranger to the responsibility of rule but it does feel different. I don't know why I expected it to feel like the home I'd lost but it hasn't been like that at all. I am a stranger to the Red Keep and King's Landing and perhaps that is a good thing. I don't feel attached to certain sentiments. The Iron Throne has been melted down and will be turned into something useful. I feel a sense of purpose, a duty to my people to make their lives better. I have plans and I will spend the rest of my life making them happen. The people will benefit, maybe not in this generation but they will in the next and in the one after that."
Sansa smiled as she watched Daenerys glow in her description of the future. She understood. Daenerys belonged to her kingdom now and not to any one person. She swallowed whatever sadness she felt at the state of their friendship and tried to be brave for Daenerys.
"I look forward to seeing the changes you bring to your people. I have no doubt your legacy will be a positive one."
Daenerys smiled in response but after those words an awkward silence came between them. Sansa knew it was time to find out the reason for this visit.
"I'm surprised you are here. Isn't your coronation in four days?" asked Sansa.
Daenerys only nodded. They looked at each other for a few moments before Daenerys stood up and walked away from the hearth, no longer looking at Sansa.
"As you know, I'm legitimizing Jon after my coronation and after that we will wed. What I haven't shared is that he will be my King. King Jon Stark," Daenerys said softly. "We will rule together. Your coronation is in ten days, is it not?"
"Yes. The lords will begin arriving in a week, which is why the guest rooms are in such disarray as we prepare," Sansa answered, distracted, trying to absorb the news about Jon. There's something she's not saying.
"Tyrion will miss it. I would think he'd want to see you officially crowned."
"I know but he didn't want me to wait. The North needs stability as quickly as possible, he said. It would've happened sooner but I wanted to give time for the northern armies to return to their homes."
Daenerys surprised Sansa by walking over to her bed, fingers grazing the furs lying on top. The gesture was far too personal and Sansa tried to suppress memories of their nights together in that bed.
"Are you married?" Daenerys asked in a whisper.
"No," Sansa responded slowly, unsure of Daenerys's intent. "We will wed when he returns, you know this. Jon and Arya plan to travel back here with him so they can attend."
"Sometimes couples don't wait..."
"Oh," replied Sansa, blushing. "We're waiting until the official ceremony. As you requested, Tyrion left for King's Landing nearly two weeks ago, and should be there in time for your coronation. Then he will meet with the man that you approved to be his steward over Casterly Rock. As you know, Jaime didn't contest it after you declared him ineligible for inheritance."
There was another silence and Sansa could feel that familiar thick air of emotion between them. Asking this next question wasn't necessary but a part of her wanted to see how Daenerys would respond.
"Will you come to my wedding?"
"No," answered Daenerys harshly, her body tensing. After a few moments of silence she asked, "Do you love him?"
Sansa inhaled sharply. She hadn't expected this question though she shouldn't have been surprised. She stood up and walked over to Daenerys.
"Did you wait for him to be far away from here so that you could pay this visit to me?" Sansa asked, holding her breath. Daenerys looked at her but kept her expression neutral. There was something in her eyes, though, that Sansa couldn't quite interpret.
"I do want to give my best wishes to you on your marriage but I can't be here when you two… I just can't…" said Daenerys softly, hands clasping together, a thin smile on her face. To someone who didn't know her, it didn't give away much. But to Sansa, it spoke volumes.
Daenerys continued, "You understand, of course. My schedule after the coronation is too full to leave so soon. Your family will be here and that's what matters."
"Of course, your Grace," replied Sansa, looking away. She didn't want Daenerys to know how well Sansa had read her. Could Daenerys still feel the same way? After everything that's happened? No. No, it's not possible.
"Is he happy with my choice for steward of Casterly Rock? It took much persuasion but I believe the result is satisfactory."
Sansa nearly laughed at this, and imagined the look on Ser Bronn's face when such persuasion had been implemented. It should've bothered her but Bronn had threatened Tyrion's life for the promise of Highgarden, from what Tyrion had shared, and Sansa felt a similar approach in renegotiation was more than appropriate.
"I believe the word 'fitting' was the first word he said upon the news. Tyrion is also very much aware that you were well within your prerogative to not allow the husband of the queen of a neighboring kingdom to have property and title to any part of yours and is grateful," Sansa said with a cordial smile. This sweet politeness was beginning to make Sansa feel ill; she desperately wanted Daenerys to just say what it was she came to say.
"Well, it does help with relations between our kingdoms, doesn't it?" Daenerys quipped with a smile. Then she added softly, "Will you love him, Sansa?"
Sansa was shocked again at how quickly Daenerys moved back to this. Is this why she's here? The way Daenerys said her name sent a chill up her spine. The Queen of the Six Kingdoms, a woman she had kissed and nearly made love to, touching the furs on her bed, was asking her if she loved another. Sansa sighed. She didn't want to lie and say yes but the answer seemed important to Daenerys in some way. Daenerys wanted her to say yes.
"I will, your Grace."
Daenerys nodded and seemed to relax but Sansa saw there was still that hint of something in her eyes.
"Since we are speaking of our betrotheds, will you love Jon? As much as you did before…" Sansa trailed off. She was going to say 'before me' but it wouldn't be right to say it out loud. Not after the way things had ended. But Daenerys had veered into this terrain and Sansa did not want to be the only one to answer such questions.
"It is a small spark but I feel as if it'll grow in time."
Sansa inwardly frowned. That wasn't a yes.
Daenerys paused and smiled slightly.
"There is something else. I'm with child. Jon and I had actually been discussing succession and had tentatively decided to ask for your permission to name one of your children as our heir. But now that won't be necessary."
Sansa was stunned, her eyes darting towards Daenerys's abdomen which showed no obvious signs. The night of the farewell feast? Daenerys seemed to read her perfectly well this time because Daenerys looked down almost guiltily. Then happiness filled Sansa. A child. She stepped closer to her with a wide smile. She was to be an aunt. The next generation of her family lived inside Daenerys. The three of them will be a family, her heart whispered sadly.
"I'm overjoyed. This is tremendous news. You both must be very excited. Will you name him or her Stark or Targaryen?" Sansa remembered their conversation about Daenerys's conflicting views of her family. Making Jon her King now made sense. She knew the answer before Daenerys said it.
"She… I think it'll be a she… She will be a Stark," Daenerys answered, a small smile on her lips. "I don't want my child to grow up with the pressure of continuing the Targaryen name and I don't know if there will be more children. So, Jon and I will be the last. A Stark ruling the North and a Stark ruling the Six Kingdoms. House Stark will become the most powerful house in the land. Who knows, maybe a few generations down the line, a marriage between distant cousins will unite our kingdoms. Or maybe sooner in a marriage between my child and yours…"
"Thinking of new ways to take the North back, I see," Sansa teased.
Daenerys chuckled and that sent warmth shooting through Sansa. She'd forgotten what that felt like.
"It is perhaps not appropriate to discuss arranged marriages given our own experiences with them but I can't imagine any other family I would trust more. It's why I thought of making your future child my heir. Knowing you, knowing the strength of character that comes with growing up in the North, those northern sensibilities combined with your knowledge of the politics of the south, no one else will compare," Daenerys said with a smirk.
Sansa smiled at the old reference and wished they could stay like this forever.
"If your Grace agrees, Jon can bring her here to meet her family and see if the potential is there. If not, we won't force it," Daenerys offered.
"That is many years away but I will speak to Tyrion," Sansa replied. "Speaking of the North, I should say that the people were very surprised with your decision. Happy, but surprised."
"Jon was, too," Daenerys answered with a sad smile. "But I thought only of your happiness when I did it. Of what you've wanted from me since we first met."
Sansa couldn't stop the shudder that moved through her, reminded of how she'd been willing to kill a queen in order to win the North. She had killed Daenerys's love for her instead.
And yet she is here.
"On behalf of the North, I want to express our deepest gratitude. We were yours and you freed us. Your generosity and leadership will never be forgotten."
"You were never mine," Daenerys whispered, her lips pursing tightly.
Sansa took a deep breath and turned away, pretending not to see Daenerys's struggle to maintain her mask, pretending that those words hadn't cut her. Then she thought of Jon. She had to know, even if it broke this peace between them to address it.
"Did you tell Jon?"
Without hesitating, Daenerys replied, "No. And I will never tell him. He loves you both so much, it is better that he not know, that it stay between us and Tyrion."
"Tyrion knows? When… why did you tell him?" Sansa turned back to Daenerys, panicked. He never said anything…
"I told him before I left, when I told him he would no longer be my Hand. I'd realized that Tyrion is the type of man who would defy everyone, his queen and his duty, to protect those he loves. I wanted him to know so that he would protect you, even from me. You deserve a husband like that, Sansa." Daenerys looked down, seemingly overcome with emotion.
Sansa closed her eyes. When she opened them she saw tears in Daenerys's eyes.
"Do you forgive me, Daenerys?" Sansa whispered.
There was a long pause before Daenerys spoke as she looked into Sansa's eyes. She looked torn over what to say, as if afraid of the words that might spill out. Sansa knew that feeling.
"I've given you your heart's desire without punishment. Isn't that clear enough?" The words were dismissive but the storm in Daenerys's eyes said otherwise. Sansa began to realize what that storm meant.
Sansa walked closer to Daenerys until she was right in front of her. They were close enough to touch but they maintained their regal aspect with hands clasped in front of them, though Sansa's hands began to itch to reach out for Daenerys's.
Measuring her words carefully, Sansa said, "I must hear you say it. Surely you understand I cannot assume anything. Do you?"
By themselves, her words would be considered a challenge but the quaver in her voice, the need that was in her eyes, she wasn't referring to forgiveness; there was only one thing her heart wanted to know and they both knew it.
"Do you, Daenerys?" Sansa asked again, this time in a whisper, closing her eyes in fear and anticipation.
The warmth that was close to her face told her Daenerys had raised a hand to her cheek but hadn't closed the distance. Sansa's brow furrowed, tempted to turn into the hand, wanting this contact. But the warmth went away and she knew Daenerys had lowered her hand. Sansa opened her eyes and saw that Daenerys had stepped back and was looking down.
"I do," Daenerys said finally, in a voice barely above a whisper.
The silence felt like thunder in Sansa's ears, the tension between them palpable. She still loves me. And Sansa could only think about the words she herself had left unsaid. If Sansa said them now, what would happen? Would she ruin everything? Daenerys was here, which meant that at least they could try to keep a friendship between them, and it felt so fragile, like something that could break if she said too much. But Sansa didn't want Daenerys to continue believing it had all been one-sided. Maybe she could tell her in a different way.
Sansa stepped away and went to her chest. She noticed Daenerys blink a few times and straighten her posture, as if believing Sansa was ignoring what Daenerys just admitted. Sansa hoped her gift would tell her otherwise. Opening the chest, Sansa removed a grey dress. She walked over and handed it to Daenerys.
"I finished this a couple of weeks ago. I was going to send this with Tyrion to give to you but I forgot. Or rather, I wasn't ready to let it go," Sansa said shyly.
"Sansa, it's beautiful! Thank you!" Daenerys exclaimed, holding the dress up to examine the embroidered red dragon coming down over the left shoulder, as if bursting out of a storm cloud, accented by silver thread to sharpen the lines of the dragon's head over the chest. It was the design they'd agreed upon all those weeks ago.
"Why wouldn't you be ready to let it go? You are far too tall for this dress," laughed Daenerys.
Sansa smiled, enjoying Daenerys's laughter and their easiness with each other. It was almost like it was before. Her breath caught as she braced herself for what Daenerys would see next.
"Look inside, underneath the dragon."
Daenerys opened the top of the dress to look at the backside of the dragon design. There was a lining beneath the bodice to protect the thread of the pattern but one edge of it was loose enough to move aside. Sansa carefully watched Daenerys's expression as she peered underneath the fabric. She couldn't stop her blush when she saw Daenerys's face fill with shock and emotion, her eyes shining with tears as she looked back up at Sansa.
Sansa slowly stepped closer to stand beside Daenerys and reached a hand for the dress and Daenerys silently passed it over. She looked again at the small design she'd hidden. It was a red wolf's head, not overly filled in but it was clear enough for anyone that was able to view it, positioned so that it would lie over Daenerys's heart when worn.
"If you look closer, you'll see a few strands of hair stitched in with the red thread," said Sansa softly, trying to stay calm in the tempest of emotion filling her heart. Her fingers traced the design before covering it again with the fabric, and looked up at Daenerys.
"I saw," whispered Daenerys, her eyes moving over Sansa's hair.
Sansa gave a small smile and looked back down at the dress in her hands. When she'd finished it, she thought Daenerys despised her and didn't know if it would be appropriate to send along with Tyrion. But she was grateful now to be able to give it to Daenerys in person, to see her face when she saw what she'd hidden. Sansa gently handed the dress back over to Daenerys, who looked to be trying to compose herself but she couldn't seem to blink the tears back and she had to wipe her eyes with one hand before speaking. Sansa longed to hold her in this moment, this moment that she'd revealed the true depth of her feelings.
"I'm going to miss you, Sansa of House Stark, Queen in the North. We won't see each other again. Jon will visit, of course, and if there are any reasons you need to come to King's Landing, like meeting your niece, I will make my apologies about needing to see to my responsibilities elsewhere in the realm. I came here to say goodbye."
For the longest time, Sansa could only blink and twist her hands together.
"You came all this way to say goodbye." Sansa could barely speak the words, and it came out as more of a statement than a question.
"I didn't like how we parted last time, your Grace," continued Daenerys, speaking quickly and without emotion. "There was much hurt and anger and now that you're the queen of a large, neighboring kingdom, as well as my soon-to-be sister, I wanted to make sure relations between our lands could remain civil."
Daenerys walked over to the door.
"I'll be leaving in the morning, so don't feel pressed to arrange a formal farewell. I know we'll have to see each other in the morning for appearances' sake but let's just say our goodbyes here."
Sansa walked closer and stared into Daenerys's eyes. Won't see each other again? Goodbye? I don't understand, she said she forgave me, that she still loves me. Didn't she?
After the way they parted before, Sansa had been fairly confident Daenerys wouldn't want to see her again, and after the North was freed that fair confidence became a certainty and she had tried to make her peace with that, but now that Daenerys was actually saying it in person, Sansa felt like she'd been cleaved in two. Did Daenerys not understand what Sansa had just revealed with the dress? Why was she doing this? Sansa was shocked and then she was furious. Grasping the door's latch, she quickly opened it.
"Goodbye, your Grace. I hope you have safe travels back to King's Landing," Sansa said sternly, trying to take even breaths to prevent her inner tremors from turning to shaking rage. To see her, to feel that closeness, only for it to be taken away again, to have to go through this heartbreak again… She now wished Daenerys hadn't come at all.
If Daenerys had been surprised by Sansa's angry response, she didn't show it. She just slowly nodded and reached for Sansa's hand, their first contact in weeks, giving it a brief squeeze before letting go and walking out.
Sansa watched her for a moment and then closed her door. Her fury quickly turned to anguish. She looked down at her hand, the one Daenerys had squeezed, and began to cry.
She paced and fumed in her bedchamber for nearly an hour. It was pointless to try to sleep, not while Daenerys was one level below her, not when she knew that she would never be satisfied with how the conversation had ended, with how she had reacted. Why would she come all this way just for that?
Daenerys had been right about the torture that came with pretending what was between them never happened. And Tyrion was right about Sansa needing a goodbye that gave some sort of resolution to her feelings. Cautious wording and hidden embroidery were not enough and she'd been an idiot to give her the dress without saying more. Sansa wanted to confess her love, to shout it if she had to. If this was to be the last time she would ever see her, then she would rather live out her life knowing Daenerys had that knowledge of Sansa's heart, that Daenerys would have the memory of her words the way Sansa had the memory of hers.
Sansa walked out to the corridor and to the stair which led down. When she reached Daenerys's rooms, she saw Podrick was already there and he was alone. Grey Worm must be in the solar.
Podrick bowed slightly at her as she went to the door. Sansa almost knocked but nervousness overcame her. She took a deep breath, letting her lingering frustration and anger rise up to the surface, and she opened the door unannounced.
A/N: Hopefully that was a less angsty chapter than the previous one though I guess it's still kind of angsty. Wow, I can't believe there's only one chapter left. Thank you so much for all the reviews.
As for when the last chapter will come, it looks like my plan of finishing up the story before the holiday next week isn't going to happen. A work deadline has come up and ch 21 won't be done until around mid-Dec as a result. I do apologize, and I know I left it at another cliffhanger in a doorway, but I think it's better than where my original cut-off was going to be of just before Sansa gives her the dress, right?
If it looks like I won't meet that mid-Dec update time, I'll post a review on this chapter and let you know.
:
youko747: Thank you!
Jo: Yeah, me too, regarding Sansa. I had always planned for it to come out and I wanted it to be Sansa who revealed it and not Daenerys finding out any other way. And yes, Arya talking with Dany! How could season 8 not give us at least one measly conversation between them? Ugh.
0ww0: Thank you. I felt bad for pulling the rug out from everyone but it made the shock of it that much more painful, right? Angst and more angst, lol
Michelle: Thank you. I'm glad it hasn't been too predictable and hopefully the rollercoaster has been fun.
