Part I: anything

"I heard something rather…odd last night," spoke Jon, after standing idly next to her for a few minutes, watching Ser Podrick and Arya train some rookies.

"Mh?" half-absently mumbled Sansa, riveted by her knight's muscles rippling under the strain of his movements. He was trying very hard to keep footing with Arya.

"I walked by your chambers and I heard you nearly shouting," he continued. Sansa's eyes widened comically, and her face turned the colour of her hair, and she coughed.

"What?" she croaked out, catching her breath.

"I thought you were in danger at first, and I nearly stormed inside your room," he added, side-eyeing her. Sansa merely stared in front of her, at loss. "Do not worry though, I did not. You didn't seem to be in pain."

"I…wasn't," she stuttered out, mortified. "Your chambers are on the other side of the castle, why were you walking by my hall?"

"I was speaking to Sam in the library," he shrugged.

It was silent for a moment, and Jon sighed, rubbing his temples. Sansa bit her lip, not knowing what to say to him. The sounds she was making were unmistakable, and no excuse could convince him that she was not writhing underneath her knight's doting ministrations. The only other thing she could tell him was that she was alone, and that in itself, was even more mortifying than the truth.

"I am going to be honest with you, I would have expected this kind of behaviour from Arya," he said, and Sansa felt annoyed by the sudden judgement he was showing; she was a Queen, for the love of the gods, she didn't need this, and certainly not from him, the same brother who did not even bat an eye at learning about Arya's improper affair with her now-husband.

"What do you mean by this kind of behaviour?" she retorted, turning around and looking at him accusingly.

"This…freedom," he rephrased. "Not so long ago, you seemed pretty adamant about being proper. I never knew you to be so impulsive."

"Yeah well," she muttered, looking back at Podrick, "what has propriety ever done me? Besides, it may have been impulsive at the start, but everything after that was well thought-out."

"Well, you certainly seem happier," he said, following her eyes and looking at the knight. Feeling someone's eyes on him, Podrick looked up and noticed the two staring down at them and gave his queen a toothy grin. "You don't carry yourself with the weight of the seven kingdoms on your shoulders anymore. I hope he's treating you well."

"He is," she answered, smiling back at her knight. He certainly had helped her let go of some of her frustrations after a long day of ruling.

"Do you love him?" he asked, and when she looked back at him, she saw the sadness in his eyes at the mention of love.

"I-I don't know," she merely answered. "Even if I did, I wouldn't know what to do about it. He's a knight, and I have duties. I'm the Queen of the North."

"You may have duties, but you love him, and he certainly loves you," he commented, his tone casual. "He's good to you, and you deserve that. Take it from someone who has lost his great love twice, don't let him get away."

"Daenerys is still out there, you know," she replied. "She's not gone."

"She's my aunt," he retorted, shuddering a little. "I may love her, but it feels…wrong."

"Well, if it's not something you are willing to pursue, you still have your other great love," she shrugged.

"And who might that be?" he asked absentmindedly.

"Tormund, of course," she smiled mischievously at him.

Jon laughed, throwing his head back, alerting the trainees who looked up at the ever-serious man, and Arya smiled at the happiness on her brother's face. Sansa winked at her, a promise that she would recount what they had talked about, and Arya nodded gratefully, going back to sparring with Podrick.

Podrick reached the council room, and found Ser Elwin guarding the door. He nodded at him, and the older man let him through.

"My Lady?" asked Podrick tentatively, peeking inside.

Sansa, seated at the head of the table, looked up and smiled at him, beckoning the young knight to join her. He walked up to the Queen, and stood near her, unsure of what to do.

"Pod," she said, her eyes going back to the letter she held in her hands and skimming the words carefully drafted on the parchment.

"You asked for me?"

"I did," she nodded, her eyes not leaving the letter. He saw her eyes harden at something she read and did not miss the deep sigh that she let out. "Would you please sit with me? I need your advice on something."

"Of course, your Grace," he replied, taking a seat next to her.

"We're alone," she said, finally tearing her eyes away from the paper and smiling at him. He felt his heart flip at that; no matter how many times she sought him for her nightly visits, it was her smile that never failed to make his heart flutter with joy. "You can call me Sansa, I've told you."

"Yes, Sansa," he teased. "I just always seem to forget."

They settled into a familiar silence, Sansa skimming over the letters and Podrick watching her, hoping that no one would barge in and interrupt their moment. It was times like these that Podrick felt guiltier; their relationship would not stay this way forever. One day, she may get married, and her husband would not like the familiarity they had with each other. He didn't know whether he would be able to live with the knowledge of her laying with another man after she stripped him from that privilege, all whilst being near her and protecting her as her dutiful knight every day. Perhaps he'd be the one whisked away by a lady he would someday marry, if he ever got over the feelings he nurtured towards his Queen.

"I don't have feelings for Sa-Her Grace," muttered Podrick into his cup, tearing his eyes away from Sansa. "That's a preposterous idea."

"Feelings? What an odd word. I'd say you're more …crazy about your Lady than anything else," said Jaime.

Podrick looked up from his ale, his eyes comically wide. "Wh-what? I'm not!"

Jaime huffed. "Please. I used to look at my sister with the same devotion. You'd do anything for her. Just, don't plunge a sword into her like I did -not that kind of sword anyway."

"I'm her knight, of course I would do anything for her. I've pledged my life!" he bellowed. "And don't speak of the Queen like that, it's tasteless and crude."

Jaime snorted, rubbing his aching stump underneath his golden hand. "We're in the South right now. I wouldn't exactly say that she's my Queen."

"She's a Queen nonetheless," insisted Podrick. "My Queen."

"The same vows that once held me back don't exist in the north, you know," replied Jaime, looking at Sansa conversing with Daenerys and Tyrion. "She may slip from your hands one day. She's a beautiful woman, and many want her. You should tell her, you never know what her answer might be."

Podrick hummed. The last time they had been at King's landing, Sansa had been miserable in the clutches of the lions. Now, she was seated near a dragon and a lion, but she seemed much more at ease.

"I can't," he muttered. "She married twice, and they haven't really been…enjoyable experiences."

"I reckon you can make it enjoyable for her," winked Jaime, nudging him with his elbow.

"You're disgusting," he groaned, but refused to deny it. Every time he laid with her, she seemed enjoyed every experience more than the last.

"Don't think that I haven't learned about your magic cock. There's quite the gossip about it around the realm," grinned the blond man. "Granted, Bronn hasn't really been subtle. He boasts about your accomplishments at every turn. You'd have to teach me some tricks."

"So you can use them on Lady Brienne?" he retorted, elated by the shock on Jaime's face. "Don't think I haven't noticed the way you look at her either. A blind man could see it."

"I'm not going to deny it," shrugged the Lannister despite the rosy hue on his cheeks. His eyes darted to the blonde knight, and he sighed wistfully. "Ser Brienne is too honourable for a man like me. Not many hold the title of kingslayer and queenslayer."

"I don't think she cares much. She talks about you often, at Winterfell."

"She does?" Jaime said, quirking a brow.

Podrick nodded. "She admires you."

"And I, her," mumbled the older knight.

"Podrick?"

He snapped back into reality, meeting the inquisitive eyes of his Queen, and smiled uneasily. "I-sorry, Sansa. I was thinking."

"It's alright," she replied, placing a warm hand on his arm. "I just wanted you to read this."

Podrick grabbed the letter she held up to him, and quickly skimmed over it, nearly groaning at the message. "Another proposal?"

Sansa, nodded, suddenly tired. "It's from the prince of Dorne. I didn't expect them to reach out to us."

"He seems to have a lot of admiration for you," he mumbled, reading the praises on the paper. He knew Sansa would not be swayed by them, but a political alliance sounded like quite the good idea… especially with the powerful Dornish royalty.

"What do you think of it?" questioned the redhead, tilting her head to look at her knight.

She relished the way his plump lips would purse, and his brow would furrow every time he would read something that annoyed him. He looked infinitely more handsome since he started keeping his beard a little longer than a simple stubble, and his hair long enough to tie it at the back. Sometimes she found it hard to focus during meetings, when all she wanted to do was to playfully tug at the ponytail he sported when he wanted the locks away from his eyes.

"I-it would be good for the north, there's no denying it," he replied, his words carefully measured. Sansa noted a hint of pain in his voice and felt a little guilty, knowing about the feelings he harboured for her.

"He's in line to be the next ruler of Dorne, you know," she said.

"He holds a lot of power," nodded Podrick, finally putting the letter down and looking back at her.

"Do you think he would relinquish his title to wed me?" prompted Sansa. "Do you think he would let our children be Starks and rule the north?"

"Ah," muttered the knight. "I wouldn't think so. He's the only heir left."

"Do you think I would relinquish my throne to wed him?" she prodded further.

"I wouldn't think so, my Lady," he smiled, his chest expanding with relief. "The people love you, and there's never been a ruler greater than you."

"What do you think I should do next?"

"If-if you want to marry," he replied, avoiding her gaze, "it should be to a Lord with no titles to his name. A lord willing to take the Stark name, or let you keep your name."

"A Lord, you say?" she smiled coyly to his obliviousness. "I've married two Lords already. Lords often seek power, and I fear for my throne. I fear for the north, it had suffered enough at the hands of those who don't know how to treat the lands."

"He does not need to be king," said Podrick, swallowing the lump in his throat. I wouldn't want to be king.

"It would be hard to find a man who is good and just, a man who wouldn't threaten my rule," she muttered softly, biting her lip. "I trust you, Podrick."

He felt his heart leap into his throat. Was she…?

"Sansa," he murmured, casting his wide eyes lower, fearing that he may pour his heart out to her.

"I trust you," she reiterated, grabbing his hand and linking their fingers. "I want to task you with something. It's-it's not easy, but your judgement matters to me."

"Anything," he replied, staring down at their linked hands, both hopeful and fearful.

"I want you to find a husband for me," she replied, and he felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. He sucked in a deep breath and removed his hand from within her grasp.

"Sansa, you don't have to marry," he retorted. "I thought, after…after-"

"I know," she interrupted, her heart clenching as her now-free hand fell back to her side. "After Ramsay, I thought that I would never put myself through that again. That I would never marry again. But I am a Queen now, and it comes with certain responsibilities."

"But you don't have to marry," he insisted. "You can assign someone, anyone, to give you a child and you can legitimize him -or her- as a Stark!"

"And what would that make me?" she nearly bellowed. "I don't want to put my bastard child through that. I've seen the way Jon was treated all his life, I've treated him terribly myself, and I regret it every single day. Even if I legitimize my child, it wouldn't erase the looks and the disgust coming their way."

"Sansa-"

"Don't," she firmly asserted. "I'm not the same young girl I used to be. I've learned from my experiences, and I would have my husband's head on a spike before I let him lay a hand on me."

"I would never let him lay a hand on you," nearly groaned Podrick.

Her eyes softened at his determination, her ever-obliging knight, and she felt guilt at the way his resolve broke when she tasked him with finding her a husband. It was true; she trusted him with her life. She trusted him nesrly scarily, and would never dream of hurting him. She knew that he loved her, no man would ever put themselves through this if he did not love his lady so ardently, and so selflessly. For that, she was willing to selfishly break his heart to protect hers, because she cared for him just as much. She thought about asking him to wed her; she thought about it all night. But her duties as a Queen came before her heart; an alliance with a Lord was the better solution, and if she could not marry Podrick, she could at least task him with making the choice for her, this time willingly on her part.

"Would you do this?"

He sighed, and she felt her heart clench at the sadness and the turmoil in his eyes. "Of course. You should know by now that I would do anything for you."

She smiled softly and leaned over to place her lips on his. She cradles his face in her hands, and he groaned softly into her mouth. He kissed her back like it was the last time he could, and it certainly felt like it. Sansa softly moaned when he placed his hands on her hips, and she shivered with delight when his thumbs caressed her over her dress.

"Sansa," he uttered. "Someone might come in…"

"I don't care," she whispered back. "I asked Ser Elwin to watch the door and not let anyone come inside. I didn't want to get interrupted."

"My Lady," he gasped, tearing his mouth away. "He-he might think…something."

"Don't worry," she giggled, the sound like music to his ears. "I told him I had important matters to discuss with you. Now kiss me again."

And so he did, her ever-willing knight, pouring all his love into the gesture, and leaving her breathless and dishevelled. She ran her hands through his hair, freeing his locks from the ponytail he was sporting, and he groaned when she tugged at his black hair, the pressure against his scalp making him nearly delirious with pleasure. In the back of his mind, he knew that this, whatever they had, would not last forever, and he intended to take advantage of every situation he could.

He felt her soft hand trail down to his trousers, and he stiffened up with embarrassment when he realized that he was hard, in the middle of the council room. He recalled back before they had started indulging in each other, when he would watch her command the room with her strong voice, her eyes blazing with determination. When night came, he would take himself in his hand, and stroke his shaft to the thoughts of his Queen, until he peaked, her name a soft whimper past his lips. He loved to watch her rule, the ever-commanding queen, knowing that when night came, she would subject herself to him with blind trust. Despite having all the control in her life, she gave it all to him in the secrecy of her chambers, her eyes always darkened at his commanding voice and touch.

"Sansa," he muttered when her hand dipped inside his breeches. "Here?"

"Yes, here," she replied, her lips trailing down his neck. She had been taking more liberties with him, sometimes initiating the exploration of his body. He never felt more powerful -and yet more helpless- than when she got on her knees, worshipping him with the softness of her mouth. She loved when he gathered her soft locks in a fist and whimpered praises into the night, nearly sobbing his devotion when she swallowed his seed. In the throes of passion, she threw all her inhibitions out of the window. It had taken a lot of patience from both of their parts. Her scars were still fresher than she anticipated, but he had guided her through all the exploration.

Her hand stroked him experimentally, and he sighed deeply when she bit his collarbone. It was another thing that had taken him by surprise; his Queen was a needy woman, and sometimes, she liked it quite rough. The discovery surprised them both and seemed rather incongruent after everything that Ramsay had done to her. But he figured it was a way to weaponize her pain, to finally and consensually find pleasure in the act. Podrick was not the one to complain. However, having her during the day and in such a public place was completely new.

When he was completely rigid, she let go of him, and hoisted her dress up her legs. He watched as she slipped her smallclothes down her legs, giving him quite the view when she spread them, and Podrick thanked the gods for whatever he did that let them be this gracious with him.

"I want you," she said, standing up with him in tow.

"Your wish is my command," he smiled back.

He pulled her up by the hips until she was seated at the edge of the table, and the brief thought that he would never be able to be in this room without thinking of his Queen spread open on this table crossed his mind.

He brought a hand to her centre and softly caressed her, his brows reaching his hairline when he noticed how wet she was, and she groaned. "Please, no waiting."

He bit his lips, nodding absentmindedly, and grabbed himself. He placed his cock at her entrance, and in one swift move, completely sheathed himself in her. Day by day, it felt more like home whenever they coupled. He knew every inch of her.

"Faster," she croaked out, wrapping her arms and legs around him and kissing him deeply.

He closed his eyes, basking in the moment and increasing the rhythm of his thrusts. Soon enough, she was but a whimpering mess in his arms, muttering incoherently into every inch of skin her mouth could reach. Podrick nearly teared up at the way she looked; beautiful and otherworldly. If he was successful in his task, he would never be able to see her unravel in his arms. He selfishly decided to bask in the moment, and take everything he could.

Soon enough, she shuddered around him, and he followed suit, his head in the crook of her neck and her hands in his hair.

"Thank you," she whispered into his ear.

"Anything for you, Sansa," he replied, smiling sadly into her skin. I love you.