In the days that followed Daenerys' escape from the dungeon, Kings Landing was in chaos. From the soldiers that searched to her to the council men that argued over what to do with her when she was caught, there seemed to be nothing but anger among them all. It was driving Jon mad and their time together had significantly shrunk in the days since then. Not that she could blame him, he had more important things to worry about, and besides she was too tired to bother with the ways of the court.
And so that was why Sansa found herself to be locked away in her chambers for most of the days, passing the time by sending letters home, to ready her own Northern men should they be needed in the capture of the dragon queen. Sansa knew of all the men, the one from home could always be trusted. If Daenerys made her way north, her men would capture her without fail.
It was late one night when Sansa found herself writing a letter to Bran, who had written only the day before inquiring about all that was going on in Kings Landing. Yawning, she rose up from her seat and paused by the other table, surprised to see an untouched glass of wine there upon it. That's funny, I don't remember anyone leaving this here, she thought to herself as she grasped the glass, raising it to her lips. Giving it a sniff, she could smell nothing but the sweet scent of the wine and so she shrugged, taking a long sip from it. The wine tasted as sweet as it smelled and for once, her stomach did not lurch at the taste of something. Taking another sip, she yawned again, deciding that perhaps now was the time to head to bed for the night. She had been dressed for bed hours ago, but she had found herself to be restless this particular night. Draining the last ounce of red liquid from the glass, Sansa set it down, realizing a moment later just how tired she had suddenly become. She took a single step towards her bed and stumbled, her feet feeling like dead weight beneath her. Something... Something was wrong.
Outside her door, she heard what sounded like a thump and a shout, but in her groggy mind she simply could not make sense of it. She made it to her bed, collapsing upon it just as the door to her chambers opened. Fighting against the sleep that threatened to overtake her, Sansa forced her eyes open as a form cloaked in shadow appeared at her bedside. She opened her mouth to scream, to speak, but found there were no words she could form as the figure loomed overhead. Try as she might, Sansa could not keep her eyes open, and the last thing she knew before sleep overtook her was the feeling of rough hands on her arms.
And then... Everything went black.
[ x x x ]
Jon was tired, but his feet did not lead him to his chambers. In truth, there was nothing he wanted more than to lay beside Sansa, who surely would be asleep at this hour of the night. The days had been long since Daenerys had escaped from Kings Landing and Jon reminded himself to apologize to Sansa for neglecting her. Though, he supposed of all people she would understand his neglect.
However, as he approached her chambers, Jon knew something to be amiss.
The two guards posted at her door lay dead on the floor, blood pooling beneath their heads as both of their throats had been cleanly slit. Jon felt his stomach heave and his heart turned over in his chest, fear chilling his body. "Sansa," he muttered, stepping over the guards bodies and pushed open the door to her chamber, only to find it empty. "Sansa!" He shouted, his heart thumping hard against his ribcage. Something cold and dark was taking root within him, a helpless feeling he was sure to remember for the rest of his life.
"Your grace?"
He spun at the sound of Brienne's voice, the blonde woman stepping into the room over the dead guards, her features taut with worry. "Where is Sansa?" He demanded of her, crossing the room to stand before her, expecting this woman to know. Of all people, Brienne would know where Sansa had run off to.
"She was here when I left not an hour ago, I was checking on Arya at her own request." Brienne replied, a shudder racing through her as she realized what was happening. Two dead guards? Someone had wanted to take Sansa and take her they had. All ettiquete thrown out the window, Brienne pushed past Jon to walk towards the table in the center of the room. There upon it was an empty glass of what she could only assume had been wine... Who had brought that to her? It hadn't been there when she'd left earlier that night. Her mind was racing with every possible thought, every possible outcome, dread heavy on her heart. She never should have left her side, she never should have gone to Arya's rooms... But she had and now, Sansa was gone. She'd never forgive herself.
Jon closed in on the bed, rumpled slightly as if someone had been laying on top of the covers rather than beneath them and that was when he saw it. A single, folded up piece of parchment there on Sansa's pillow; with shaking hands, he reached out, picking it up between two fingers. Unfolding it, Jon felt a pain worse than any other pain had ever felt, and he sagged beneath the weight of it, falling into the chair beside the table. "She's taken her..." Jon whispered, shaking his head as he reread the letter for the third time, the pain in his heart only intensifying. Brienne came to stand beside him and Jon shoved the parchment at the female guard, who took it and read the single line written upon it.
Abdicate and she will live. Deny me my throne and you will never see her again.
Running a hand over his face, Jon closed his eyes, picturing Sansa in the last moment he'd seen her; with her hair unbound and her lips smiling as she tried to coax him from a foul mood. He'd have given anything to have that moment back. He'd have given anything to have been there when she'd gone to bed, because perhaps then she'd still be there in her bed asleep. "Wake Tyrion," he said to Brienne, opening his eyes to fall upon the woman who had sworn to always protect Sansa. "Speak to no one else. Go to Tyrion and tell him what's happened. And then wake Arya." Brienne gave a nod and then a stiff bow, backing out of the room to do as she was bid.
Then Jon slowly rose to his feet, swearing right then and there that he would do whatever it took to get Sansa back, even if it meant giving up his throne. He'd do anything if it meant she would be safe.
[ x x x ]
She was falling...
Blinking back to the world of consciousness, Sansa realized she was not falling, but had been dropped unceremoniously onto a bed that was not her own. Nor was it Jon's. In fact, now that she opened her eyes, she could see the entire room was unfamiliar to her. "Where..." She trailed off, forcing herself into a sitting position, rubbing her eyes. She was so tired, oh so very tired... But fear was creeping into her heart, into her mind, forcing her awake despite how her body protested.
Where was she? Sansa fought to remember all that had happened, but her memories were scarce. "So, you're awake," a voice spoke and she gasped, turning towards the door way to find none other than Daenerys standing there, her silver hair wild about her pale cheeks. She was thin, skeletal really, from her months locked away in the dungeons of Kings Landing. "I thought you'd not wake for hours still." She pushed away from the door frame, coming to stand beside the bed, her blue eyes widening ever so slightly as they gazed upon her. "When I asked Jorah to bring me the person who's kidnapping would bring him the most pain, I did not expect it to be you."
In truth, Daenerys did not know much about the girl on the bed before her. Of course, she had heard the stories, the rumors... About the oldest Stark girl's life in Kings Landing and how she'd been sold to the Boltons, where the abuse she had suffered had been unspeakable. Daenerys knew that Jon had crowned her a queen in her own right a mere day after his own crowning, giving her control over the entire North, separating it from his own kingdom without pause. But beyond that, she didn't know much about this girl. However as she stared at her, Daenerys could see something that perhaps even the girl herself did not yet know. Now, she understood why Jorah had brought her here and not another woman. She had heard the rumors even in her jail cell, that Jon was sure to marry before the first year of his reign was over. To think... To think his bride was to be the girl there before her.
"Why are you doing this?" Sansa asked, sitting up a bit straighter as she pinned the silver haired woman with her gaze. "What do you think you'll accomplish by doing this?" Of course, it all was beginning to make sense in her own mind- the wine, it'd been doused with a sleeping potion. Jorah, Daenerys had said, he must have left it there for her to drink and had been the one she saw right before falling asleep. This was all because of Jon's rightful place as heir to the Iron Throne and not her own, there was no other possible reason.
"He stole what was mine." Daenerys whispered, giving her head a little shake as if to clear her thoughts. "He knew what I've done to get here. He knew it was to be mine." Her words were sharp, full of anger, of hurt. "After all that I did for him- I lost one of my dragons, my child for him, and yet... He still had himself crowned." She turned her back to Sansa, arms hugging herself as if chilled, and then silence fell.
For a moment, Sansa felt pity for the young woman before her. A woman not much older than she, a woman who had suffered through endless trials and agony to get to where she was now. Sansa supposed she could not blame her for her feelings, but she could blame her for her actions. But then the pity washed away and a flicker of anger began to burn within herself. "Jon did none of those things and you know it," Sansa shot back, the heat of her words forcing Daenerys to turn back to her with surprised eyes. "If you'd but taken a moment to talk to Jon about it, you would have learned the truth." She swung her legs over the bed and stood, facing the dragon queen with fierce blue eyes. "He didn't even want the Iron Throne." The words fell between them and Daenerys remained silent, staring back at the Northern queen with wide eyes. "He would have let you have it, he would have stood beside you at your coronation. But you... You are a woman of impulse and impulse brings nothing but trouble. You sealed your own fate that night you attacked Jon."
Daenerys said nothing as she listened to the Stark girl speak, hearing the words she never imagined she'd hear. Jon... Jon hadn't wanted the throne? Suddenly, she was back to that night, to when they'd learned the truth of Jon's family. When the meeting had been over, he'd touched her elbow and told her he wanted to talk. But what had she done? She'd wrenched her arm from his grasp and left the room without a word. Had that been what he'd wanted to tell her? "I don't believe you." She said stubbornly, shaking her head before pinning her own blue eyes onto Sansa's.
"I care not if you believe it, but it is true nonetheless." Sansa retorted, shrugging as if they spoke of something as casual as the weather. "He would have given you the throne at the cost of nothing but the North. With his backing, the people would have readily accepted you." Sansa couldn't help but to smirk a bit as she went on speaking. "But you acted on impulse, as you are known to do, and it did not end in your favor. Jon did not take your thrown, you willingly gave it to him that night you tried to kill him." Daenerys sagged with the weight of the truth, falling into the chair beside the single table in the room. She looked pitiful, there in that chair, and Sansa felt another flicker of pity for her. She could not imagine what she must have felt that night, to have everything she'd ever worked for taken from her... But, all it would have taken was a single conversation. She had chose not to do that and for that, well, Sansa could not feel any pity.
"He should have had me executed." Daenerys said softly, turning her head to stare at the old tapestry on the wall, her face downcast. Her heart ached with the knowledge she'd been given this day and the weight of her mistakes was enough to drag her down.
"You're right," Sansa's voice broke in and caused Daenerys to turn, a brow slightly arched at her words. "He should have executed you, it's what happens to traitors." For a split second, Sansa was reminded of her own father's execution, the sight of his blood staining the stage still fresh in her mind. "It's what everyone else wanted to have happen to you. But Jon knows you, Tyrion knows you." Sansa offered her a wane smile, taking a single step closer to her. "He will never execute you, even after this." She decided she wouldn't allow it to happen, whether Jon wanted to or not. Despite all that had happened, Sansa knew most mistakes could be forgiven. Though she may not be able to live a life at court or in a kingdom of her own, Daenerys would live... The only other living Targaryen.
Well, for now.
Without thinking, she placed a hand against the flat plane of her stomach, her heart skipping a beat at the thought of it all. "Does he know?" Daenerys' voice cut into her thoughts and Sansa returned her gaze to her before giving her head a little shake. "You've only just learned?" This time a nod. Daenerys felt a lurch of guilt and she stood, gesturing for Sansa to remain where she was. "I will ensure your safe return home." Her words surprised Sansa but she wasn't about to argue with her. "Although something tells me Jon will find you before I can send you home to him." At that, Sansa chuckled, giving a little nod to tell her she agreed. "Stay, rest... The sleeping potion is quite strong, I'm certain you must still feel tired." That was true as well, Sansa realized only then just how tired she still was. "I will arrange everything."
And then Daenerys was gone, leaving Sansa alone in the room, with only the hope that she was telling her the truth to hang onto.
[ x x x ]
The peaks of Dragonstone were finally within sight.
Jon had not known what prompted him to check here first, other than he knew Daenerys and he knew this would be where she fled to. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, but his one and only thought was of Sansa. Was she well? Had Daenerys harmed her at all? He'd execute her himself, if she had harmed even one hair upon Sansa's head. He squeezed his hands into fists and that was when he felt the warm, small hand upon his. Looking up, it was Arya that had reached out, her dark eyes finding his. He felt comforted and placed a hand over hers, returning the smile as Ser Davos called out their arrival to the shore.
The boat had barely hit the sand before Jon was out of it, racing up the beach towards the castle with Arya and Brienne on his heels. To his surprise, out on the stone steps they were met by Jorah, Daenerys' ever loyal companion. "She thought you might come here," Jorah said by way of greeting, his expression grim as his eyes swept from one face to another. All three had already unsheathed their blades by the time he'd finished speaking and Jorah held up his hands in a gesture of fealty. "There's no need, your grace," he said to Jon, raising his eyes to meet the king's. "She is inside." Jon wasn't sure if he meant Sansa or Daenerys, but he would find out soon.
"Take him to the boat," Jon said to Brienne, who moved without a word, taking Jorah by the arm and wrenching it behind his back. Then she led him back down the stone steps they had only just climbed, to where she'd tie him up in the boat, left behind with Ser Davos to watch over him. And then he was gone, making his way up the rest of the steps to push past the double doors that led into the castle. He'd been here so often, he knew its pathways and passages by heart... But he didn't know where she'd be keeping Sansa. It was all he could do to not start shouting her name throughout the entire place.
"Jon..." Arya's whisper came and he turned to the direction she was looking, only to see Daenerys there in a doorway. He took a few steps towards her and Daenerys offered him an apologetic sort of look, her blue eyes full of sorrow as she looked upon him. "Where is my sister?" Arya demanded, her voice echoing along the stone corridor, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
"She's down the hall, just down there," the silver haired woman pointed down the next hall, and Arya took off at a run, calling out to Sansa. Jon remained still for a moment, staring at the woman he'd once loved, the second woman to have ever tried to kill him. "I'll wait." Daenerys said with a small smile, gesturing for Jon to move on. Jon hesitated, but heard the approaching footsteps behind him and knew the others were coming. He could leave her to them, for now that was. And so he took off in the direction Arya had gone, running until he heard her voice.
The door was already open when he arrived and as he crossed the threshold of the room, he saw her. Arya had her arms around her, having not let her go since the moment she had walked into the room. But both sisters turned and looked up at the sound of footsteps, and that was when their eyes met. Jon felt relief wash over him at the sight of her; she was pale, tired looking, but she was unharmed. Her red hair was twisted back and she wore an unfamilar gown of light blue that was a little too short for her tall frame. He realized then it must have been one of Daenerys' old ones. "Sansa..." He murmured and then she was coming towards him. He took her into his arms, breathing in her sweet, familiar scent, unashamed by the tears filling his eyes. She was safe... She was safe! Pulling back, Jon leaned in to kiss her, relishing in the feeling of her lips against his. He had almost lost her... He shuddered at the thought and Sansa must have felt it, for she wrapped her arms around him and held on tight. "Are you alright?" He asked when he drew back, holding her at arms length to give her a more full inspection.
Sansa gave a little laugh and nodded. "I'm fine, Jon." She insisted as he touched her cheek, her shoulders, her arms. "Honestly." She said softly as his eyes came back up to meet her own and she reached out a hand, gently cupping his cheek into her palm. Jon closed his eyes against the tears gathering in his eyes and drew her back to him, holding her close to his chest, just breathing her in. She was his again. And more importantly, she was safe. Slipping his arm around her waist, Jon gestured for Arya as well, slipping his other arm around her as well. And then together they walked from the room, sweeping through the corridors until they reached the main hall, where Brienne stood with the others, Daenerys and Tyrion. At the sight of them, Brienne's face lit up and she rushed towards them, calling out to Sansa, who immediately went to her guard, throwing her arms around her, all propeity thrown aside. Brienne held her close and then with a nod from Jon, led her further down the corridor towards the double doors that would lead them back outside. Sansa cast only one last glance behind her, meeting eyes with Daenerys, before the doors swung closed behind her and Brienne.
Jon then turned to Daenerys and Tyrion, his brown eyes dark and somber as they fell upon the one time queen. In his heart, he knew what he had to do, but part of him could still not yet make such a choice. "Bring her," Jon said softly, before he too turned to follow the path Sansa and the others had walked. Behind him, he heard Arya and Tyrion's footsteps as they began to lead Daenerys down the hall, where they would load her into the boat beside Jorah and take them back to Kings Landing.
And then... And then he had to make a choice. He just wasn't sure he was ready to do it.