I'm so sorry for the waiting! Happy reading!
We are never so defenseless against suffering as when we love ― Sigmund Freud
Sansa woke up with sun rays on her face. She couldn't stand the light and curled to her side to block it out. She kept her eyes squeezed tight and took a deep breath to hold down the nausea.
Pain pounded in her head like a blacksmith hitting steal. Sansa groaned and tried to go back to sleep, but she couldn't.
She sat up and looked around the room. It took her a moment to realize where she was.
Slowly, the events of the previous night started trickling back into her head.
Jon.
She could still feel the tingle and the burn on her lips where they had brush his.
Her heart thundered in her chest.
She looked at her bare arms and quickly realized that she was still wearing the gown she made for the spring feast. She had fallen asleep without changing to her nightgown.
Sansa pressed her hands to her temples and closed her eyes, trying to understand what had happened, but the pain in her head increased.
She got out the bed and took off her gown, letting it fall to the ground.
She looked at the tub and noticed that it was full of clean water. One of her maids must have prepared her a bath while she was still asleep – Sansa realized.
The Lady of Winterfell was an early riser. She never slept this late. Usually, the water was still warmth when she woke up.
Sansa touched her toe to the water, testing the temperature. The water was cold.
She stepped in and sat down eagerly. The initial shock of the cold water on her skin caused goosebumps to appear over her pale skin. Sansa lay back in the tub; the cold water soothed her body.
She pulled out her hair tie, letting her hair billow out in the water.
She closed her eyes and sank into the tub, enjoying the way the cold water reminded her of winter. She remained like that for a few seconds, until a familiar voice made her gasp for air.
I'm sorry.
She came up from the water and put her hand over her chest.
I'm sorry.
Jon's words echoed in her head and the doubts from last night returned: Why did he say that?
Sansa bit the inside of her cheek, trying to calm herself. She couldn't jump into conclusions.
She got up from the tub and put on a robe, walking towards the dressing table. She sat in front of the mirror and stared at herself.
Her hair was plastered down her face, and water dripped off her chin. She combed her hair as well as she could.
Her thoughts travelled and she felt her cheeks flush. She couldn't take her mind off of Jon. Her heart felt like it was ready to bust out of her chest.
Sansa took a deep breath. She needed to deal with the consequences of her actions without letting her emotions get the best of her. She needed to be a grown woman and face the truth, even if the truth was painful and ugly, she needed to face it.
Exhaling sharply, she rose from the chair.
She needed to get dressed. She needed to get out of this room. She needed to see him.
The Lady of Winterfell was walking through the corridors of the castle, trying to figure it out what to do; how to act.
Should she talk to him? Should she pretend that nothing happened?
Shaking her head, she berated herself. No, she would not lie. She would not pretend anymore.
Deep down, she knew that she wouldn't be able to pretend that nothing happened.
She was a practiced liar but their kiss had not been a lie, at least not to her. Their kiss had been real. She hadn't dreamt it. There was no way she could look at Jon and pretend that nothing happened; that her entire world didn't stop when his lips touched hers.
"Lady Sansa!" – a voice startled her, making her stop walking.
Sansa caught her ragged breath, feeling her heart pounding fiercely inside her chest.
She forced her body to turn.
"Ser Davos" – she gasped as the beating in her chest returned to normal – "Good morning" – she added in a more controlled voice as Ser Davos approached her.
"Good morning, My Lady" – he said, bowing his head.
Sansa smooth out her skirts and started walking again. Ser Davos followed her.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?" – she said, trying to disguise her jitters.
"Yes it is, My Lady" – Ser Davos stated – "Perfect for a leisure walk through the woods, but I'm afraid we'll have to spend the day inside these castle walls" – he added. Sansa looked at the man beside her and arched an eyebrow – "Since Jon is on his way to King's Landing" –he explained, seeing the confused look on Sansa's face.
Suddenly, Sansa stopped walking.
"What?" – she breathed, trying to find the air to keep talking – "He's not here?" – she asked; her head (and heart) pounding in pain.
"No, My Lady. He left before dawn" – Ser Davos said – "He seemed in quite a rush" – he continued to say.
His words were like a knife through Sansa's heart. A million questions started to invade her mind as she tried to process Ser Davos's words.
Jon left. He left before dawn. He left after their kiss.
Why? Why did he leave Winterfell? Why did he leave her?
Sansa could hear her own heart beating as a bad feeling inside her grew stronger.
I'm sorry – Jon's words invaded her mind again.
Sansa felt herself growing weaker.
The backs of her eyes stung. Tears were threatening, and she willed them back, furious with herself, with everything.
All her hopes and dreams were falling apart.
There was only one explanation for Jon's absence. He left because of her. He left because he didn't want to face her. He left because he regretted what happened. He left because their kiss had been a mistake. He left because he didn't love her.
The air felt like fire in her lungs, as she faced reality.
Sansa tried to disguise her discomfort, as Ser Davos continued to speak:
"The letters say that you should rule in his absence" – he said.
The Lady of Winterfell looked more confused than ever.
Letters? What was he talking about? – she thought, feeling her entire body trembling.
"He left letters with instructions and orders before leaving the castle" – Ser Davos explained, seeing, once more, the confused look on Sansa's face –"They are very specific, if I may say. He even instructed the kitchen staff to –"
"Do you have my letter?" – Sansa interrupted him, regaining control of her voice.
She needed to face the truth. She needed to read his words. She needed a goodbye.
"I'm sorry, My Lady, but there was no letter addressed to you" – Ser Davos said – "I assumed he talked to you before leaving, but your reaction says otherwise" – he explained. Sansa turned pale – "I'm sure he had a good reason for leaving" – he added gently.
Sansa's mouth felt dry.
Vivid flashes of Jon kissing her invaded her mind, making her feel stupid – a stupid little girl with stupid dreams who never learns.
She blinked away the pinpricks of tears welling up in her eyes and took a deep breath.
"Of course" – she managed to say – "You said we'll have to spend the day inside the castle…" – she added, trying to focus on something else.
"Council meeting" – Ser Davos immediately said – "Jon thought it would be better to address certain matters after the spring feast. He said some lords would be more receptive to accept some terms. He's finally starting to think as a King, don't you think?"
Sansa did her best to breathe normally but her emotions kept getting the best of her. She felt like she was being suffocated.
She could feel an actual physical pain at the very mention of Jon's name.
"Forgive me, Ser, but I need some fresh air" – she said, quickening her pace, not waiting for the man's response.
Sansa hurried down the corridor, feeling like the walls of the castle were closing in on her. She needed air. Her cream gown flew out behind her as she ran through the hallway.
By the time she reached the courtyard she was breathless.
The sound of horses neighing caught her attention. She shuddered and straightened her shoulders, trying to compose herself.
Sansa could see men carrying trunks to a carriage. She narrowed her eyes and saw the sigil of House Tyrell engraved on it.
She noticed a woman knelt in front of one of the trunks, rummaging through the contents.
Sansa's hands moved to straighten her hair while she tried to make her steps go straight.
"Margaery?" – the words stumbled out of her mouth, before she was even aware of her lips parting.
The Lady of Highgarden turned her body and focused her attention on Sansa. Margaery's eyes flashed and her lips curved up in a smile.
"Sansa!" – she exclaimed, walking towards Sansa and wrapping her in a crushing hug.
Sansa almost lost her balance, feeling mired in a semi-permanent state of confusion.
Margaery looked happy, oddly happy. It didn't make any sense. There was no reason for her to look so happy, was it?
"You're leaving" – Sansa managed to say, trying to organize her thoughts – "I thought you were going to attend the council meeting. All the Northern Houses are" – she added, freeing herself from the embrace.
"I can't. I must leave" – Margaery quickly said; her smile became even bigger – "I have a long journey ahead of me. I'll be nearly a month on the road to King's Landing"
Sansa's hands went automatically to her stomach as she tried to control her breathing.
"King's Landing?" – she forced the words to get out of her mouth.
"I received a letter. It seems that there are some matters that your brother wishes to discuss with Queen Daenerys by his side" – Margaery quickly said – "Who knows, maybe I'll come back a married woman" – she giggled – "Queen Daenerys will certainly want a big wedding. She rebuilt the Great Sept. Some say it –"
Margaery continued to talk but Sansa barely heard her. She was starting to get dizzy. She couldn't understand a single thing that was happening.
Sansa disguised a sob. Deep down, she understood exactly what was happening. She wished she didn't, but she did.
Jon left because he didn't want to face the repercussions of his actions; he left so he could fix his mistakes and be the King that everybody expected him to be. He was going to marry Margaery and pretend that nothing happened between them…
And maybe he was right – Sansa lied to herself – Maybe nothing happened between them, maybe Jon was drunk, maybe it was an impulse, maybe she misunderstood things, maybe …
She tried to find excuses to ease the pain, but they ended up having the opposite effect.
Her lungs hurt as she tried to control her breathing.
He didn't even bother to leave her a letter. He didn't even bother to say goodbye.
Before she knew it, Margaery pressed two kisses to either of her cheeks and entered the carriage.
Sansa felt a sharp pain in her chest, as if she had been stabbed. Tears started to run down her cheeks.
She bit her trembling lip and watched the carriage disappear from her view.
Everything was falling apart and Sansa hated herself for being so weak; for allowing her heart to break so easily; for wanting him.
Two days later
Jon didn't want to make a spectacle, but riding a dragon made it impossible for him to arrive discretely in the Red Keep. As soon as he jumped off of Rhaegal, servants and knights approached him.
Jon hated the attention. He hated the way people looked at him as if he was some God. He didn't want people to look at him and see a King, much less a God.
People bowed their heads as he walked.
Jon turned his head and looked at Rhaegal. He was almost sure that the dragon winked at him before spreading its wings and flying away.
He wished he could do the same.
The image of Sansa invaded his mind and he felt himself break out in a stupid grin.
Unconsciously, he quickened his pace. He needed to speak with Dany, so he could return home; so he could be with Sansa.
He wondered if she had read his letter; if she had understood his words.
He hurried toward Maegor's Holdfast, the castle-within-a-castle. Jon's first stop was Daenerys's chambers, but the Queen wasn't there.
Jon decided to try the Queen's Ballroom.
The two men guarding the doors immediately bowed their heads. Jon tried not to roll his eyes at the rigid rules of etiquette.
As soon as the doors of the Queen's Ballroom opened, Jon saw four women sat around a big table, eating and drinking.
Before he could identify them, a small figure launched at him, making him land hard on the floor. Jon felt a sharp pain on his back and a weight on his chest. He felt hair tickling his nose and moved his head.
His eyes landed on the four women again. They were looking at him with amused expressions. He noticed their classic Dornish features and finally figured it out who they were – the Sand Snakes.
Jon felt his cheeks flush and moved his head, avoiding their mischievous smiles. He immediately saw violet eyes staring back at him; her platinum blonde hair tickling his cheeks.
He tried to shift his position, but her small body wouldn't allow it.
"Dany –" – he tried to say but she interrupted him.
"I'm so happy that you're here!" – Daenerys exclaimed, as if they were the only two people in the room – "Is everything alright? Rhaegal has been so uneasy lately. Are you alright? Is everything alright in the North?"
Jon tried to speak but Daenerys kept throwing questions at him, ignoring the other people in the room. His discomfort increased.
Jon never cared about formalities. He hated wearing fancy clothes. He hated hearing fake compliments. He hated dealing with politics. He hated talking with Lords and Ladies he barely knew. He hated having to look and act like a King.
Daenerys was good with formalities, not him, but now he felt like he was the only one with manners. When did they change places?
Jon could hear the Sand Snakes giggling. Dany was still on top of him, acting more like a wildling, than like a Queen.
Being the only two Targaryens in the world made Daenerys and Jon bond fast.
Jon quickly understood Dany's need to be close to him. He was her only family. Without him she was alone again.
After spending most of her life alone, Daenerys saw in Jon an anchor; someone with whom she could be herself; someone with whom she could share her worries without feeling weak and vulnerable. They were family, and there wasn't anything more important than family.
Daenerys had no memories of Rhaegar. She didn't know what he looked like or how his voice sounded like, but now she had Jon. It was like life had given her a second chance – a second chance to have a family.
Daenerys could be his Aunt but, deep down, she felt like a little sister to him, and when they were not in public she insisted on acting like it.
She never had the chance to act like a child; like an ordinary girl. She never had the chance to jump into her brother's arms and be something more than a Queen, but now she did.
Jon understood all of that, but that didn't change the fact that he still felt a little uncomfortable by Dany's constant demonstrations of affection, especially when there were other people in the room.
So much for not making a spectacle – he said to himself.
Jon grabbed Danny's arms and she stopped talking.
"I need to talk with you in private" – he said, catching her attention.
Daenerys narrowed her eyes.
"Is something wrong?" – she asked, not moving her body. Jon sighed – "Is this about the Tyrells?" – Daenerys arched an eyebrow –"I'm sorry I invited Lady Margaery to the spring feast without your consent, but I told you we needed to keep an eye on her and –"
"I can't marry her" – Jon interrupted her.
Daenerys crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes for a moment.
"Jon, we've talked about this" – she sighed.
"I know, I know … but I can't marry her" – he said. Daenerys opened her mouth but Jon was faster – "And I can't talk with you about this while you're on top of me, so can we please talk in private, preferably with some personal space between us?"
Daenerys huffed and stood up. She turned her attention to the Sand Snakes.
"I'm sorry friends, but my Nephew and I need to have a little chat" – she said – "We'll continue this meeting later" – she added, her voice deep and commanding, before leaving the room.
Jon felt the women's eyes on him. Before he could bow his head, Tyene spoke.
"Your reflexes are terrible" – she said.
The King in the North rolled his eyes. The Sand Snakes never missed an opportunity to tease him. He cleared his throat.
"I'll meet you in the train yard" – he simply said, remembering the time Daenerys and him visited Dorne.
He used to train with the Sand Snakes. They were fine fighters, but overconfident, that was why he always won.
Tyene immediately grabbed her dagger, accepting the challenge.
Jon bowed his head and left the room.
Tyrion refilled his cup with wine as he watched Daenerys and Jon arguing about the Tyrells.
According to Daenerys, Jon did the exact opposite of what he was supposed to do. He had ignored Margaery Tyrell. He was supposed to gain her trust and get close to her, so they could be one step ahead of her, but Jon didn't do any of that.
"Honestly, Jon! Did you even acknowledge her presence? Did you even make an effort to talk to her? Please tell me you talked to her, Jon!" – Daenerys exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.
"Of course I talked to her!" – Jon retorted.
Tyrion tried to stifle a laugh and Daenerys threw a dark look in his direction.
The two dragons continued to argue as Jon enumerated reasons why he shouldn't marry her. Poor reasons, Tyrion realized, as Jon insisted on saying that Margaery Tyrell was too ambitious, too calculating, too greedy, too scheming, too sly…
Daenerys kept interrupting him, trying to make him see that his list only proved her point.
Jon started to pace around the room. Daenerys followed him, like a shadow.
The Tower of the Hand had never looked so small to Tyrion. The bickering was starting to make his head hurt.
"How is Sansa?" – Tyrion suddenly asked.
Jon's body came to a halt. He stopped walking so abruptly that Daenerys almost bumped into him.
Jon felt his cheeks flush; his insides fluttered, sending curls of heat through his stomach and shivers all the way down his spine.
Daenerys and Tyrion shared a look as Jon approached the table and filled a cup with wine.
"Did she marry that Northern Lord that was seeking for her hand?" – Tyrion asked, ignoring Jon's frown – "What was his name again? Simon Lake?" – he said, looking at Daenerys – "Stephen?"
The Mother of Dragons shook her head.
"Sebastian Lake" – she corrected him, remembering the man's letter.
"Sebastian Lake" – Tyrion echoed – "I read his letter. He seemed eager to marry her" – he added – "And who can blame him? Lady Stark was always a beauty. Even when she was just a little girl, every man here at court looked at her with hunger in their eyes" – he continued to say, before draining his cup – "And her wisdom matches her looks"
Jon refilled his cup with wine.
Rage irradiated from him. He hated Sebastian Lake. He hated the man and he wanted him far away from Sansa.
He was so focused on his own thoughts that he didn't even hear the sound of a dragon's roar coming from the open window. Before he could lead the cup into his mouth, Daenerys grabbed it.
"Jon, what on earth is happening?" – she exclaimed, catching his attention – "Rhaegal is fighting with Drogon again!" – she added, pointing at the window – "Your mood is influencing his behavior!"
Jon took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions.
"Sebastian Lake can't marry Sansa" – he finally spoke. There was an emotional tremor in his voice.
"Why not? Did he not please her?" – Daenerys asked, trying to understand Jon's words.
"Oh, I'm sure he was more than willing to please her" – he quickly said, grabbing his wine from Dany's hand.
Jon could feel the veins popping out on his temples and the blood rushing to his head. He was slowly losing his human side and embracing the dragon that lived within in, as the green-eyed monster of jealousy revealed itself.
A terrifying roar invaded the room again.
"Jon –" – Daenerys tried to speak but Jon cut her off.
"I don't want her to marry him!" – he blurted.
Daenerys and Tyrion's eyes widened, stunned by Jon's declaration. It took him a moment to realize what he had just said; what he had admitted.
"You're in love with her…" – Tyrion said and somehow the sentence sounded like a question.
The Hand of the Queen was expecting anything but that.
Tyrion remembered Sansa and Arya's time at court and how different they were. If the two sisters were as different as night and day, then Jon and Sansa were as different as the sun and the moon … or maybe he was completely wrong and they were just two sides of the same coin; maybe they completed each other in ways that only the heart could explain.
"Aye" – Jon said; the emotions he tried to hide gave his voice a little quiver – "I'm in love with her…" – his mouth quirked into a smile – "… and I think she loves me too"
He felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He had finally admitted his feelings out loud.
Jon looked at Dany, waiting for a response, but an uncomfortable silence invaded the room.
Daenerys walked towards the window, running her fingers through her long blonde hair.
"You do know what happened the last time a Targaryen courted a Stark, don't you?" – she sighed, closing her eyes.
"History will not repeat itself. There will be no war, Dany" – Jon quickly said, approaching her – "I'm not Rhaegar and Sansa is not Lyanna" – he added as he reached for her hand and squeezed it.
Daenerys remained in silence. The fear of a new war made her feel nervous. She was tired of fighting. They were finally at peace. She didn't know if she would be able to fight another war; to lose her family again.
She looked at her brooding nephew. He was waiting for her approval with hope in his eyes.
Daenerys remembered the way Jon used to talk about Sansa. He was great at keeping his emotions well hidden but every time he spoke Sansa's name something in his face changed – his features softened and his typical tension disappeared from his brow.
Daenerys wondered if Sansa could also make him laugh. Something inside her told her that she could. He used to smile every time a raven arrived with a new letter from Winterfell; from Sansa.
It all made sense now.
How could I not see this sooner? – she wondered – How could I not see that Jon was in love with his cousin?
In fact, Daenerys was just now starting to realize that Jon never showed interest for any woman at court. They used to offer him mischievous smiles and look at him for a few seconds too long, but Jon never stared back. He never wanted to speak about his marriage prospects, until now.
Daenerys smiled. Maybe this was a good thing. Love used to be irrelevant to people like them. Arranged marriages were a common thing between highborn people. Rulers didn't have the luxury of marrying for love. Marriages were based on power, wealth, land, necessity and convenience … but maybe Jon and Sansa could change that.
Maybe Jon was right: history didn't have to repeat itself. Jon was not Rhaegar and Sansa was not Lyanna. They could be happy and Dany wanted nothing more than to see Jon happy. She wanted him to stop being so broody; to stop complaining about being King.
Jon and Sansa could write a new History; a better History. They were not doomed to be a tragedy.
Daenerys met Jon's gray eyes and nodded, saying without words that he had her blessing. Her nephew's eyes seemed to light up and his smile warmed Dany's heart.
She moved her right hand and pushed a lock of hair from his forehead.
"What about Margaery?" – Tyrion broke the silence. The Targaryens looked at him, confused – "What if she is Robert?" – he added.
"She's not in love with me" – Jon stated, remembering Robert's Rebellion and the story of the Battle of the Trident.
Prince Rhaegar loved his Lady Lyanna and that love sent thousands to their respective deaths; that love contributed to the outbreak of Robert's Rebellion; that love started the entire war.
History was not going to repeat itself. Margaery was not in love with Jon.
"No, she's in love with power" – Tyrion said with a rueful grin.
Sorry for the lack of Jonsa in this chapter, but our babies need to be apart for a while longer before they can be face to face again. Don't we all love reunions?
Thank you all so much for reading and leaving reviews!