The Night King stood staring out of a window in a crumbling tower. His army surrounded the ancient ruins of Moat Cailin, just waiting for his next order.
He was greatly bothered by what had happened earlier with Sansa. He still felt echoes of emotions from her intrusion into his mind.
It was something he hadn't foreseen happening.
He didn't have the powers of a Seer, but with his limited mental abilities there was still a lot that he could predict. Sansa Stark fighting against him in that way should have been one of those things. But he hadn't seen it coming.
She was becoming tiresome. Just as Allana had, long ago.
He distantly remembered his wife and how she had begged him for the sake of their son not to turn her. It had been the only act of mercy he'd ever shown after becoming the Night King.
And in the end, he'd killed her. Eight months later, from afar, he'd watched a funeral held for his son who'd died of no known cause. His last ties to the realm of Men died twenty years later with his brother Bran and he'd never thought about them again.
Not until he'd felt the boy, also called Brandon Stark, mentally awaken, years ago. Through him, he'd seen the world six thousand years later. He'd seen the castle his brother had built to help safeguard the world from him. The castle where his son had died. Where he would've lived out his days with Allana had the Children not taken and turned him.
For the first time, he'd felt a twinge of regret. And interest in his brother's descendants. The Stark house.
Now he could see how all this was hindering him and his conquest of mankind. It must end.
And it would.
The other boy, the one who challenged him, who killed one of his lieutenants beyond the Wall, he was coming. Of that he was sure. His sister was here. It was just a matter of when.
He hoped the boy would bring the last dragon with him when he did. It would be the perfect compliment for his ever-growing army.
Sansa had said she'd been afraid he was using her as bait at first. That was just what he was going to do now. She was useless to him if she couldn't grasp the power that was just within her reach.
He'd bait Jon Snow, turn him and his dragon, and then kill his sister. Then the march southward would resume. After all he had others he wanted, as well as Jon Snow.
He turned from the window and walked to the room where he was keeping Sansa Stark. She was pale and lying still on the pile of blankets he'd found and draped over a long stone block, leftover from where it had once been a part of a wall. Going into his mind had hurt her, he knew. She hadn't recovered.
He stood over and stared down at her. A curious part of him wondered what she was dreaming about. It would be so easy to slip into her mind, and now that he'd recovered from her assault on his mind, he knew it wouldn't hurt him.
No.
He turned away.
But she would be gone soon. This would be his last chance. He paused.
Then turned back and took a seat on a nearby partial stone block. Opening his mind, he delved into hers.
As soon as he entered, he knew something was horribly wrong.
He was her.
Seeing everything through her eyes and emotions. Not just a spectator. Not able to interact with her.
At the mercy of her mind.
Intense sadness and grief poured over him. He was in a dark empty room. A man stood in front of him. Or rather Sansa.
"Father."
"Sansa."
She rushed forward, enveloping him in hug. "I've missed you so much. I needed you." Tears poured down her face, soaking her father's shirt.
His warm hands pressed against her back, holding her to him tightly. "I've missed you too. I've missed all of you."
Sansa sobbed into his chest, her shoulders shaking from the effort.
"I wish I wouldn't have had to die. I wish you hadn't simply stood by and watched them murder me."
Sansa was sure she hadn't heard right. She drew back and sniffed back tears. "What?"
Her father's face was the same weathered, stern but loving face she'd known since as far back as she could remember. But his words. He'd never said a mean thing to her in her entire life. "I didn't. I couldn't-they lied to me. Joffrey said he would show you mercy! I didn't know!"
Ned wiped her tears away with his thumb. "I know, Sansa. You were always different. Never really one of us. You didn't know what they were going to do because you didn't want to." His face darkened and then he was choking her. "Our family was ripped apart because of you. Rickon died because of the man you married. Bran died and still you did nothing. Arya and Jon will die too."
She couldn't breathe. His grip was too tight. With every hateful word he spoke, he tightened his grip, crushing her windpipe.
But as the world darkened around her, she knew he was right. She deserved this. Deserved death. She was weak her whole life.
No one can protect anyone… especially not her.
The Night King broke free just as everything went black. He was himself again, shaken and overwhelmed but himself. He looked around. He was still in Sansa's mind. Everything was empty. Ned Stark was gone. As was Sansa. Why was he still here?
He was trapped.
No, wait. There was someone else. He cocked his head toward the faint sound of … crying.
Sansa. A much younger Sansa was on the floor crying. Her hair was different, as was her style of dress. He suspected this change had something to do with what he'd just witnessed, but he couldn't know for sure.
He didn't say anything, simply extended his hand toward her. Sansa finally noticed him, but wasn't afraid as she normally would be. She took his hand and he pulled her to a standing position. She was slightly shorter here than in reality.
"Thank you, Ser," she sniffed.
The Night King stared down at her and she couldn't meet his eyes. It almost seemed … childish.
She was a child, in this dream.
"What was the happiest moment that you can remember?" he asked her. He needed to break free of this suffocating emotion that was trapping him here. For that, he needed her cooperation.
She looked up at him then, so solemnly, with wide blue eyes. "I don't know."
"Think," he ordered.
"The happiest moment…" she murmured, looking to the side. A few moments passed, and then she smiled wistfully. "When I found Jon. At the Wall. I wasn't alone anymore."
She was grown up again and looked as she did when he'd first seen her. A stabbing sense of guilt at what he was going to do to the boy caused a pain in his heart.
He had to get out of here.
"This isn't a dream anymore, is it? Why are you here?" she asked, fatigue and pain coloring her tone.
It was best to be direct. After all, it didn't matter if she knew her fate or not. And once he was out of her mind, these … feelings … he was having would be gone.
"I was curious. Soon Jon Snow will come for you and when he does he will turn. Then your usefulness will be at an end."
Sansa didn't look surprised, but there was pain in her eyes that was hard for him to ignore. "You're going to kill me. Because of what I did."
"Yes." She was very astute.
Sansa blinked back tears. "Is there… can't you leave Jon alone?" Her voice was steady as if she already knew the answer.
"No."
She accepted his answer without protest, probably knowing it would do no good. He turned away to concentrate on breaking free from her mind but then she called him back.
"Wait."
He paused mid-stride, not really wanting to speak to her anymore, but after their shared experiences-and the fact that he was going to kill her and her loved ones very soon-he thought that he could give her time to say a few last words. He turned around to face her once more and waited expectantly.
She stood still for several seconds.
She was very beautiful, he thought. So much like Allana.
Sansa moved forward in a rush, touching his face with both hands, catching him by surprise. "You wanted this once." She kissed him fully, pressing her body against his. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, licking and stroking his own until he was almost dizzy.
He broke away. "What are you doing?" His voice was hoarse, but this time from desire, not years of disuse.
Sansa lowered herself to her knees and looked up at him. "I'm giving you what you have wanted. I am bowing to you. Giving myself to you in whatever way you want." She lowered her head in deference to show she was completely serious.
The Night King stared down at her. He was finished with Sansa Stark. He had no use for her anymore, except as bait to capture her brother. His head might be muddled at the moment but he was aware of why she was doing this.
"In exchange for Jon Snow's life," he said.
"Yes."
"And should I say 'No'?"
"If you don't want me anymore, then I know you will kill me." She swallowed hard and he thought he detected a hint of moisture in her eyes.
"And I suppose you will want to beg for your life."
Once more, he was surprised by her actions when she gave a small shake of her head. "No."
"Why not? It is a common human trait, to beg."
She didn't answer.
He knelt down in front of her. "I have already made up my mind."
"You can change it if you wanted to."
"What would you do if I accepted your offer and then turned Jon anyway. Or killed him right in front of you?" That thought made him wince internally. Could he watch her scream in agony?
Of course. He had before.
"Then I will kill myself and end all of this anyway." She said it so calmly and because they were inside her mind he knew she was telling the truth.
"And what if I decide to turn you right now?"
Her breath hitched, but she remained calm. "I assume once I am like you my feelings on the matter won't be of consequence."
But he knew she did not want it. Not yet.
However, the memory of Sansa Stark kissing him of her own volition caused a shot of desire deep in his abdomen. She on her knees, bowing to him, giving him at least a part of what he wanted from her. Should he give her another chance?
He had to admit to only himself that he wanted her. Badly.
It would be of no consequence to delay his plans for a short while. He would have Jon under his control, but he could always save him until the end. When Sansa had decided to accept his offer of eternal life and power, as he knew she would eventually.
Being inside her mind this way had given him much insight to her weaknesses.
He stood up and extended his hand once more. She took it, only hesitating for a moment.
XXXXX
Jon saw the dead standing below him. He circled around Moat Cailin looking for the one he wanted the most.
"Dracarys," he whispered and Rhaegal lit up the Night King's army.
Sansa was here somewhere and he had to find her. He kept a sharp eye out for any flash of red hair. He didn't want to light her on fire after just finding her.
Suddenly in the window of a half-crumbling tower, he saw him. The Night King. He wore the most unusual expression and Jon realized that he'd never seen any kind of emotion of his face before.
Except for that time at Hardhome, he remembered. He'd been almost taunting Jon then with a grotesque display of his power over the dead.
Jon landed Rhaegal close to the tower and whispered, "Destroy whatever comes close." Somehow he knew the dragon had understood and left him to find Sansa.
He ran inside the tower and up the half-crumbled stairs. The window he'd seen the Night King standing in was now empty of his presence. Although this was most likely a trap, he couldn't walk away. Not until he saw Sansa.
What if she's dead? a voice whispered.
He ignored it, but slowed down and cautiously took in his surroundings. Where would Sansa be? Somewhere close, he assumed. There was a opening across the way and he swore he saw the flicker of a candle. The Night King didn't need light, nor fire, nor warmth.
Sansa.
He swallowed and crept toward the opening, sword ready in hand. The opening lead to a room where Sansa sat on the edge of a stone, rubbing her temples.
"Sansa," he breathed.
His sister looked up and he was struck by how pale and ill she appeared. He went to her and knelt down. "Sansa, you're alright?"
She reached out and touched the side of his face. "Jon, you have to go."
"Come with me." He stood up and reached for her hand but she didn't move.
"I … can't."
"What do you mean, you can't?"
She swallowed hard. "I'm staying with him. You have to leave."
Jon couldn't believe his ears. Something was wrong. "What is it? What's he done to you?"
"Nothing. He hasn't done anything," she lied. "I gave my word. I've … bent the knee." She gave a humorless smile.
Jon's confused and trusting face stared up at her. "I don't understand. What does that mean?"
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar shape move from the entrance of the room toward them. He whirled around, sword ready and pointed at the Night King's throat.
It was Valyrian steel but the Night King was unafraid. He was unarmed and Jon took the opportunity to ram his sword through his chest. Unlike previous encounters with White Walkers, the Night King did not burst into ice chunks and die. He simply smirked and then stepped back until Jon's sword was no longer inside him.
Then he stepped over to Sansa and stood next to her. Jon looked between them. "Sansa, please, come with me."
Sansa didn't look him in the eye and his heart sank. She wasn't coming. Instead, she pushed off the hard surface that she was seated on and stood. The Night King held out his hand which she took, after several seconds hesitation.
Jon saw all of this and processed it quickly. The bastard had killed his brother, destroyed thousands of lives, taken his sister, and was now forcing her to… He didn't know what. He only know she was acquiescing to him when, after Ramsey, she would never do anything of the sort.
He saw red and charged the Night King. It was a fight that was short lived. He got one blow in and then his enemy literally threw him across the room. He vaguely heard Sansa plead for his life.
"Please, you gave your word."
Jon's head was bleeding. In a blur, he saw Sansa walk past him with the Night King and leave the room.
I love you, Jon.
Had she said that aloud or was it simply in his head?
He didn't know, but when he was able to walk moments later, he stumbled to that lone window from before and saw Viserion flying away, the Night King on its back.
A stream of red hair billowed behind him.
Yay! Got through a very emotional 2 chapters. Can't believe it. BUT now everything is more aligned and on track for the rest of the story.
That being said, I think/hope that everyone who reads this chapter knows what really went down. I mean, like, when she bowed and gave herself to the NK. There's no way Sansa goes through Joffrey, Littlefinger, and Ramsey without learning what makes a megalomaniac tick. That's one thing that always bothered me about the Ramsey period-Sansa NOT taking cues from Margaery (however you spell it) and playing the psycho for all he's worth. I only say this because by then her character arc had already taken a more assertive turn during her stay in the Eyrie. Then it was like she backtracked.
Of course, one cannot prepare for Ramsey Bolton. One simply deals.