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Sansa loves me.

This repeated in Daenerys’ mind as she hastily made her way to the rooms below Sansa’s. She and Grey Worm took the stair down and met with one of Sansa’s guards, who said Ser Podrick would be arriving shortly, and that the cot and some food had been placed in the bedchamber’s adjoining solar. Daenerys gave instructions to Grey Worm that he should wait for Podrick and when he arrived, to take advantage of the respite and sleep.

She walked into the bedchamber and saw servants pouring buckets of steaming water into the nearly full bath. Glancing around, she noted the fire in the hearth burning brightly and the varied foods that had been placed on the table. She nodded to herself and appreciated Sansa’s thoughtfulness. Daenerys walked over to the table and poured water into her goblet, then gulped it down.

Sansa loves me.

Trying to shake these thoughts, Daenerys poured wine into the goblet, then took a piece of bread, dipped it in the wine, and ate it. She also ate a few pieces of dried meat and cheese. For a moment she wondered why she was doing all of this with her right hand but then glanced at her left and saw that it was still clutching that blasted dress.

It can’t be true.

It felt disconcerting being back here at Winterfell. The familiarity comforted Daenerys in a way she hadn’t felt since moving into the Red Keep, but being reminded of what she couldn’t have, the scent of Sansa’s bedchamber, all of it tormented her, too. Turning back to the bath, her shoulders sagged in exhaustion. After the servant curtsied and left, she carefully placed the dress on a chair near the bed, where she noticed a nightgown had been provided, and began undressing. It was only when she was reclined in the hot water that she let her eyes drift upward, knowing Sansa was above her. She sighed longingly.

Daenerys’ eyes drifted to the dress, and a flutter again came to her chest at the thought of that red wolf. It had thrown her off balance and made her realize she’d gotten too comfortable in Sansa’s bedchamber, practically flirted… what was she thinking asking questions like that about Tyrion and touching the furs of her bed? Ever since she’d left Winterfell, she had tried to convince herself that whatever she suspected about Sansa’s feelings had been wrong, that Sansa never felt what she did. But it didn’t go away; the memories of their time together would come upon her unexpectedly. Touring the Red Keep and her visits to the city put pictures to some of the places Sansa had spoken about; there were not many since she preferred sharing her memories of Winterfell than those of King’s Landing. It made looking at the Iron Throne difficult, knowing who had sat on it as he tormented Sansa. Daenerys hadn’t given destroying it a second thought.

Jon hadn’t made things any easier. She was only being partly honest when she’d told Sansa he was thriving in rebuilding efforts. It suited him because it kept him busy from thinking about them and their situation. It was why they hadn’t sent out announcements of their betrothal or plans to wed after the coronation in a small, private ceremony. Jon had asked for that privacy and her early suspicions for why were confirmed when one evening several weeks ago he’d told Daenerys he couldn’t have a conventional marriage with her, that he had struggled with the urge to back out but understood the benefits of going through with it. It had been a difficult conversation but she appreciated his honesty. For duty and her protection, he would wed her if that was truly her wish but Jon would not share her bed. And she knew how relieved they both were at this decision. When Daenerys spoke and told him that she understood and that she would be all right with that arrangement, he suddenly tried to convince Daenerys to see Sansa but she refused to hear his arguments. Jon had even yelled at her, saying Sansa loved her but she ran out of the room before he could continue.

She’d run because she desperately wanted his words about Sansa’s love to be true. But Daenerys was too afraid of what she might do if she started talking about Sansa with him or anyone else. She avoided speaking of her with Missandei because her friend, more than anyone other than Sansa, had seen how much in love with Sansa she’d been and knew her heartbreak. And in his letters to her, Tyrion kept any description of Sansa’s activities and well-being vague; she’d assumed it was because he was being loyal to his new queen but Daenerys wondered if he was also trying to spare her feelings. She supposed she could’ve asked Varys but she’d agreed with Tyrion that Varys should keep his spies in the North to a minimum since Sansa was becoming adept at rooting them out and it would not do to begin her reign at odds with the North. Daenerys also felt uncomfortable revealing her own personal interest by approaching Varys, not quite trusting her spymaster, so she let him be. But Daenerys also knew Jon had been corresponding with both Tyrion and Sansa so in the most disinterested way she possibly could, which probably didn’t fool him at all, she would probe for details on how Sansa was doing. Strangely enough, Jon also kept his responses vague but he would have these worried, upsetting expressions after reading Tyrion’s messages before wiping them away, and Daenerys began to worry, too. But Jon never gave up on hinting, subtly and not so subtly, that she should see Sansa.

Daenerys looked up again at the ceiling. Sansa did look more tired and gaunt than I expected.

But still beautiful.

Daenerys grabbed the soap and washcloth and began washing herself, thinking again over the last week when it had become clear that Daenerys was carrying Jon’s child. She looked down towards her abdomen and rubbed her hands over her stomach. She would begin showing soon enough. Daenerys hadn’t even considered it a possibility until one nausea-filled morning when Missandei had given her a look. Then Daenerys just knew. Her sickness in the mornings, tenderness in her breasts, and she quickly went to Samwell Tarly to confirm it. Daenerys and Jon had not slept together since the night of the farewell feast in Winterfell and she was certain that was when it had happened. Her first thoughts were joyful because she would finally be a mother in the way she’d always wanted. But later at night alone in her bed, she felt sad, and thinking on it she realized that she had agreed to all the secrecy of her wedding to Jon because she also hadn’t truly wanted to go through with it. And now she would have to. The next day, when she’d shared the news with Jon, she could see that same mixture of happiness and sad realization of what this meant. But when Daenerys told him her decision to make him King and share her rule with him, he got quiet. Daenerys knew it was a blow, being King was never what he had wanted. That’s when Jon took her hands in his and gave her a strange look, like he had decided something. Jon simply told her that she had to go see Sansa now. He said nothing more than that and got up and walked out of the room. That had been two days ago.

Jon knew this was what her heart most wanted, to see Sansa again, which is why he pushed her for so long. Daenerys told herself he likely didn’t know all of her reasons for coming, though. She missed her, yes, but she’d realized other things, too. All she’d been doing ever since she left Winterfell was pine for Sansa Stark and it was becoming a distraction. Daenerys had thought she’d finished with it by securing Sansa’s happiness with the North’s independence and that nudge to Tyrion to wed her, which Sansa accepted as she’d predicted she would. But it hadn’t stopped the yearning. Daenerys had left Winterfell in shock and heartbreak but her heart wouldn’t let go. She had to see Sansa again, to say goodbye, to wish her well, to alleviate that worry those looks from Jon had put in her mind, to know that Sansa was going to be happy in her life. Her life away from me. And now this dress, that wolf’s head… Daenerys began to wonder if she’d come all the way to Winterfell for still other reasons.

Daenerys closed her eyes. I’ve said my goodbyes, it’s over. She had to stick with her plan. It would give Sansa and Tyrion a real chance. She remembered their playfulness with each other, their easiness. Sansa deserved someone to be here with her for all of her days, someone to grow old with, to give her the heirs Sansa had repeatedly told her she wanted. And by staying away, she would never have to endure the pain of seeing them happy together.

After Daenerys finished bathing, she stood up and grabbed a towel. When she’d finished drying herself, she walked to the bed and picked up the nightgown. She finished lacing the ribbons on the front and went to the hearth. The fire was a blaze now and she could feel the room growing warmer. Daenerys grabbed another log and placed it on the fire. Then she knelt down to the fur rug, watching the flames flicker around the new log. In her mind, she imagined an angry Sansa up in her rooms. The fire in those blue eyes when she walked out… Would it be a mistake to go back up and talk with her? Daenerys looked again at the dress and felt the pit in her stomach grow. She could’ve been kinder, could’ve lingered longer to let Sansa’s shock and anger ease. In her own way, she told me she loved me and I just walked out.

Daenerys gripped a bit of the fur in her hands and took a deep breath and held it, looking up. In the end she released her breath and sank further to the floor. It’s better this way. Then Daenerys heard the door open and she turned her head. There she saw a very angry Sansa.

*::::*

Sansa was momentarily flustered at seeing Daenerys in the nightgown, kneeling in front of the hearth. She glanced at the bath tub and saw that she had bathed already. Her anger returned when she saw that Daenerys’ annoyance with her arrival was also mixed with amusement.

Daenerys ignored the flutter in her chest and said in an even voice, “Your Grace has just ruined my very conscious effort to leave your bedchamber after a short visit and spend the rest of the night alone in my rooms. I know my visit will inspire talk and I was trying to save you from rumors.”

“There’s no need, your Grace, the rumors have already settled in around here. Did you really think the nights we shared together went unnoticed? In case you’re curious, my reputation has benefitted and Tyrion is delighted. Northerners were perfectly willing to follow you, they would have barely grumbled because you had truly won them. We would’ve fought for you until the end. But you gave me the North anyway. Tyrion has tried to promote the more generous ones that call you a fair and just queen who gave it as a reward for our loyalty to you but those other rumors still exist about my self-sacrificing willingness to do whatever it took to win the North from you. I am a hero.”

Daenerys paused, considering Sansa’s words, and then quietly said, “I’m sorry if my coming here has added to it. I wonder what they’ll say.”

Sansa scoffed and rolled her eyes at Daenerys. Did she really want to hear the gossip about them? Then again, it would be a good way to broach the true reason of this visit.

“The oblivious will think you an attentive friend. The worst will say that you demanded another night’s payment for the North’s freedom. The more forgiving will say that in your love for me you needed one last goodbye before we parted forever.”

They looked at one another and Sansa could almost see the truth in Daenerys’ eyes. Daenerys was the first to look away and she stood up.

“I see. Is that all?” Daenerys asked, trying to sound indifferent. “I should probably get some rest before I leave at dawn.” She knew she was provoking Sansa by being dismissive like this and she scolded herself for it. Hadn’t she regretted her earlier dismissiveness of the dress? She turned around and took a few steps towards Sansa as if to usher her out the door.

“That’s the other thing I wanted to ask. Is that safe? Shouldn’t you rest for more than a night?”

“One night will be enough. Grey Worm was prepared to not sleep but thanks to your forethought with Podrick and then Brienne out in the corridor, he will have more than enough rest to make sure I stay on Drogon if I fall asleep on the journey back. There is also the matter of my coronation. Most of my lords and ladies have begun arriving at the Red Keep in preparation. Jon can only do so much to placate them.”

Sansa stared at her, Daenerys fiddling with the ribbon at the front of her nightgown, glancing at the bed. It was a hint for Sansa to leave but it only made her seethe.

“So that’s it? One brief conversation and then you’re gone again. Why did you even come here?” Sansa asked, resolving once and for all to hear the truth.

“I told you.”

“You could’ve said all of that in a letter. You didn’t actually need to come to Winterfell. Why then?”

Daenerys didn’t answer, frustrated by Sansa’s insistence and by the way her heart was racing in the face of this demanding Sansa. Sansa wasn’t going to leave without the truth and she was afraid; afraid to open her heart and be hurt again.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

“But you did.”

“I just wanted…”

“What?”

“I wanted to see you!” Daenerys exclaimed, losing her temper.

“Why?” Sansa asked, stepping closer, challenging Daenerys to lie to her.

Daenerys huffed and looked down. She said nothing, hoping her silence would discourage Sansa.

Sansa’s heart was pounding as she saw Daenerys’ fear, her wish for Sansa to stop. But she couldn’t stop, not if this was the last face to face conversation they were to ever have.

Looking up into Sansa’s eyes, Daenerys could see Sansa’s need for this. It was the same need she’d had when she was last here, when Daenerys had demanded more than facts about Sansa’s betrayal, when she had needed to know Sansa’s true feelings.

“Isn’t this a dangerous conversation to have given what was already said up in your rooms?” Daenerys asked, looking over at the grey dress then back down, her hands clenched into fists.

Sansa slowly took another step closer and whispered, “But isn’t this conversation partly why you’re here?”

Daenerys closed her eyes and bit back a sob, Sansa’s words hitting true.

“And it’s why I’m here in this room. Do you think that was easy for me when you left? I barely held on. I couldn’t tell you how afraid I was for you. How much you meant to me and still mean to me.”

Daenerys looked up at her then, surprised to hear so much emotion coming from Sansa.

“I didn’t want to be queen, Daenerys,” Sansa continued, turning away to say these words because she knew they might sound hurtful. “When I was younger, yes, childish dreams of being a queen at a king’s side. My desire for the North was based mostly on a fear of being subjugated and when I got to know you, I was no longer afraid of your rule. It felt so freeing to trust you, to concede the North to you, to not have to worry about my obsessive need to control everything in my life because I felt scared that I would be hurt otherwise. I didn’t know choosing you was going to feel like that but it did. You truly have no idea how much I believed in you. And I can’t give the North back to you because that will lead to war. But I hate it, Daenerys. I didn’t realize how much until just now but I do. I feel trapped, on a path not of my choosing. I’m obligated to do it but… I just wish you had asked me.” And I wish Bran had taken the crown when I offered it to him, she thought.

Sansa turned back to look at Daenerys and it was Daenerys’ turn to look away.

“I had no idea…” Daenerys said, wondering how detailed Tyrion had been in those letters to Jon.

“I’m not saying I would’ve said no. I wasn’t the only one who thought the North needed its independence and I would not have let my personal feelings about a crown cloud such a decision. The people are happy and we will thrive as best as we can. But I could’ve discussed my hesitance with you.”

Sansa sighed deeply and went to the table and sat down.

“I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel guilty. I’m just tired of not saying the things I feel,” Sansa said, then looked up. “Like what happened up there, when I let my anger cover my hurt. I miss sharing these things with you, you’re the only one I know who would understand.”

“You can write to me, we can still write…” Daenerys trailed off, not able to counter the rawness in Sansa’s words. Control yourself, Daenerys, she admonished, taking several steadying breaths.

“And pretend that we aren’t what we are to each other?” Sansa asked softly, looking down at her hands on the table. Diplomatic letters, the false friendliness between rulers, all of that would most definitely happen but a little part of her would die every time. Her love for Daenerys would always want more.

Daenerys felt angry again. Why hadn’t Sansa been like this before she left? Why hadn’t she been forthcoming with her feelings when Daenerys begged her to be? She gave a hard look at Sansa and went to the other chair that was beside Sansa. She sat down.

“Did any part of your plan include seduction?” Daenerys asked. It was an abrupt change in subject but if they were going to talk, they had to talk about everything.

Sansa looked up, startled. At first she felt angry that Daenerys could even ask that but then she remembered how she had held back during that confrontation over her betrayal. She had tried to hide much of what she felt and her inner thinking from Daenerys. Sansa released a long breath, understanding that Daenerys needed resolution, too.

“No,” Sansa replied. And she stared back at Daenerys to make sure she was believed. When she saw the relief in Daenerys’ eyes, she continued. “The bait was friendship and my support, not… me. But I did think of it when I finally recognized the attraction between us. I just couldn’t do that to you.”

“Because you did not think yourself capable or because you didn’t want to?”

“I didn’t want to, or maybe both. I thought I had learned control, how to hide my emotions. And you tore down all my protections as if they were nothing. I could not have pretended something like that with you if I tried. And after that first kiss, I was so tired of lies and manipulations. I wanted to support you in every way I could. But before that, everything was so confusing. That first visit to Winter town, remember? That’s what I thought it would be like. Friendly conversation, shared stories, smiles and laughter. I hadn’t expected you to be so open, so… everything you turned out to be.”

Daenerys nodded. Those early days of resistance were full of surprises for the both of them. She wordlessly took another piece of bread, softly chewing while she waited for Sansa to continue.

“You are already aware of my initial fears and anger with Jon at placing his trust in you so quickly. I’d known and trusted a beautiful queen before. Then when you arrived at Winterfell I felt something else that I pushed away and forgot about. It wasn’t until these last weeks that I realized what it had been.”

“What?”

“A pull to you. So small I didn’t even recognize it and I covered it up with disdain and haughtiness.”

Chuckling, Daenerys said, “You were quite haughty. And quite beautiful.”

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Daenerys.”

Daenerys felt the blush grow on her cheeks and she looked down at the food. “And you felt a pull to me?”

“I did. And I instantly distrusted it, feeling it was all part of your act, how you got people to follow you. I stayed away, I didn’t want to know you. When you came to me in the library, the way you behaved and spoke, I felt a softening and it surprised me how quickly that happened. I couldn’t have that, you became even more dangerous in my eyes, and I provoked you with my question on the North. I had to remind you and myself that I couldn’t trust you.”

“I was furious at you,” Daenerys murmured, thinking back to that time. If she’d been more patient, she might’ve gotten Sansa on her side much more quickly.

“I know. I meant you to be.”

“But then your plot,” said Daenerys, clenching her teeth.

“Yes.”

“And everything after.”

Sansa sighed. “Yes. I hate myself for committing to that plan, at what I’d become. I like to think I would’ve stopped it even if we hadn’t grown close but I don’t know. And I have to live with that.”

Daenerys looked at Sansa, seeing her regret and remorse. “It was a terrible thing but it did lead you to me. And I wouldn’t trade those weeks with you for anything.”

“You are far too forgiving,” Sansa said with a sigh, leaning back in her chair and turning towards the fire.

“I would do anything for you,” Daenerys answered simply.

Sansa turned back to Daenerys and looked her in the eyes. “Anything except see me again.”

Daenerys didn’t answer. Instead she admired how fierce Sansa looked in that moment. They had never talked like this with one another before. For all of their shared confidences, for as close as they’d become, Sansa had always skirted around their feelings. And as much as Daenerys had wanted to talk about it, at the same time she had not pushed as hard as she could have. Not until that last night when Sansa had revealed her near crime. She stood up and walked to the hearth, staring at the flame.

“I didn’t return to Westeros expecting to find love, Sansa. I left behind someone with whom I passed the time, coming here with the sole purpose of taking the throne, and with the advice that I would have to wed some lord to solidify my power and appease those I had conquered. Then I met your brother. I came to Winterfell in love and when he pushed me away, I floundered in my anger at him and at the rest of the North. I felt alone and lost. Then you came to me.”

Sansa reached for Daenerys’ goblet of wine, remembering how they had shared a goblet in her rooms that first night together. She took a sip before putting it back down on the table, and then said, “So I was a distraction for you after all.”

“At first, yes. But it was a distraction with a purpose. Just as you had a purpose. Getting to know your people, getting them to know me, you knew I wanted that and I let you take advantage. You were also a puzzle to me. When I met you I could see that we could get along, we had much in common, but you defied me so vehemently and I couldn’t understand. Then you put yourself in my path and I became determined to do so. The friendship progressed so swiftly, I felt myself in a whirlwind of attraction and suspicion. I wondered how this could be happening. The Lady of Winterfell looking at me the way she does, flirting with me, those lingering touches. Your reluctance, how I could so easily make you blush, I was entranced. And then it became more. You became more to me.”

“It was the same for me. I didn’t understand; I couldn’t help the feelings that grew. Even after I stopped my plot, I wanted to spend every moment with you. It was all so new and wonderful and frightening. But we were who we were, our duty, I…” Sansa stopped. They both knew she had been the one who rejected Daenerys in the end. “And then I confessed.”

Daenerys turned to look at Sansa, still sitting at the table. She felt the sting in her eyes.

“I felt like an idiot for falling for two Starks and being rejected by each of them in turn. One of whom I had the brief suspicion would betray me, and the other who actually did.” Daenerys turned back to the fire, letting her tears fall silently.

Sansa’s stomach churned in guilt. She stood up and walked over to Daenerys and placed a hand on her shoulder. Daenerys flinched but she did not pull away.

“But you’ve forgiven me?”

“I have,” replied Daenerys, nodding. “I knew you were sorry and you could’ve kept this a secret from me forever. But you didn’t. You, who had everything to lose by being honest with me, who could’ve just rejected my declaration without inspiring my wrath, you gave me a choice. And as angry as I was, my other feelings for you remained.”

“If you’ve forgiven me, and we mean so much to each other, then why is this goodbye?”

The lump in Sansa’s throat grew larger as she waited for Daenerys’ reply. Daenerys turned around and Sansa saw her tears. She didn’t try to stop the hand that reached for Daenerys’ cheek to wipe them away. Her thumb grazed over Daenerys’ lips and she heard herself release a strangled sob as she threw her arms around Daenerys in a tight embrace. Decorum and duty be damned.

“Why?” Sansa cried, weeping that Daenerys’ arms were still not touching her, clutching the smaller woman to her as if she would disappear at any moment.

“It’ll hurt too much… I’ll always want… Sansa, please understand… I have to move forward, I have to,” Daenerys said into her neck, not able to stop her tears or her stuttered breathing. She could no longer resist and she allowed tentative arms to wrap around Sansa, her heart leaping in her chest at feeling Sansa’s warmth once more. And tentative arms turned into desperate arms, pulling Sansa to her as if it were the last time.

In a way, Sansa did understand. She had seen how jealous Daenerys had been those times she came upon her and Tyrion speaking together. Sansa would struggle, too, at seeing Daenerys again and having to suppress her feelings. But to truly never see each other again, it felt wrong, it felt like a nightmare.

Sansa breathed in her scent and pulled Daenerys’ hair to her lips. She pressed her cheek against Daenerys’ ear and pulled back slightly so that her lips tugged gently on an earlobe.

Daenerys gasped in surprise.

“What are you doing, Sansa?” Daenerys asked, her voice quaking with want.

“I’m saying goodbye,” answered Sansa, her lips trailing kisses down her jawline towards Daenerys’ chin. “And I should say the words I was too scared to admit to you. I want to say them and I want to show you I mean them.”

“What words?” breathed Daenerys, her body trembling against her kisses.

Sansa brought her hands up to cup Daenerys’ face and gently kissed her lips then she whispered, “I love you. I love you.” And in her mind, Sansa repeated it after every kiss, every touch.

Daenerys melted at those words and Sansa’s kisses. Her fingers pressed into Sansa’s back.

Sansa didn’t wait for a reply and continued pressing kisses against her neck, finally earning gasps and sighs as Daenerys tilted her head so that Sansa could reach under her chin.

Daenerys whispered, “Are you sure, Sansa? Tyrion will know.”

Sansa stopped kissing her neck but still held her close.

“He will understand. What about Jon? Does he know you’re here?”

“It was he that suggested I come see you. He actually suggested it weeks ago but I wasn’t sure. After we found out about the child, he practically insisted. You were right; I could’ve written a letter. But I just had to see you one last time. I had to know it wasn’t just me, that I wasn’t alone in this…” Daenerys closed her eyes, her heart still reeling over Sansa’s declaration.

“I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you. I was a fool, I had thought it was just me that felt this way, and then when you told me, when you needed me most in your pain at my betrayal, I tried to hide what I felt. I didn’t want you to think I was using it to stop my punishment, but also I was afraid… you’d said so many things and…”

Daenerys thought back to that night. She’d been desperate; if Sansa had said then what she felt Daenerys likely wouldn’t have left without doing more to convince Sansa to come with her, or even order her to do so.

Sansa sighed against Daenerys’ neck and felt Daenerys tighten her embrace. She’d nearly said more about ensuring Daenerys’ future with Jon but even now Sansa worried about doing something that prevented the marriage alliance and Jon’s happiness. Sansa also tried not to think about how Daenerys had repeated her intent for this to be the last time they’d see each other. Then she thought of what Daenerys had said about Jon.

“They are either fools or the best men we will ever know,” whispered Sansa.

“This is why it has to end. You would be divided. You deserve a true happiness with him,” Daenerys whispered. As much as it pained Daenerys, she knew Sansa loved Tyrion, too, and her continued involvement with Sansa would only hurt them. It had to be a clean ending.

“And you do, too?” Sansa tried not to let her agony at their parting enter her words. She would do as Daenerys wished because she wanted Jon and Daenerys to be happy together, together with their child.

Daenerys nodded softly against her shoulder, and lied. “Yes… I do, too.”

She lied for Sansa’s benefit; she didn’t want Sansa to know that she and Jon were no longer in love. Daenerys pulled back to stare at her then pulled Sansa’s face down towards her own. Their foreheads touched and Daenerys took deep breaths, steadying herself, unwilling to push Sansa into anything she would regret.

The pain in Sansa’s heart became unbearable.

Sansa kissed her then. Harsh, selfish, determined. Daenerys hesitated at first but then returned her kiss with equal force.

She pulled away and said, “Tonight you’re here and we’re in love. I love you. I love you, Daenerys.”

Sansa wanted to keep saying it, as often as she could until she couldn’t breathe, to make up for all the times she held back and stayed silent, for all the times in the future when she wouldn’t get to. She wanted to bathe Daenerys in her love.

Daenerys pulled her into another kiss while at the same time untying the rope on Sansa’s robe, pulling it off her. It felt wonderful, her softness, her taste. Daenerys’ hands reached for the laces of Sansa’s nightgown, undoing them and slowly pulling the gown down over her shoulders. Before letting the nightgown drop, Daenerys broke the kiss and turned Sansa around, pressing hot kisses against her back as her hands reached around to cup Sansa’s breasts.

“I have wanted to do this ever since you bared yourself to me. I wanted so much to pull down that dress,” whispered Daenerys between kisses.

“I wanted it, too. I was just about to ask when you pulled your hand away. I wish I had spoken. I wish we had made love every night you were here at Winterfell.”

Sansa turned around and let the nightgown fall. Daenerys kissed her neck and trailed kisses down her chest and to her stomach, pulling off Sansa’s smallclothes as she went. Sansa felt like she could die of pleasure right then and they’d only just started. When Sansa stood naked, Daenerys stood up to look at her, panting in her need. Sansa smiled and she kissed Daenerys again, their tongues pressing together, until Sansa pulled Daenerys down to their knees on the fur. She then surprised Daenerys by pushing her down onto her back. Daenerys was still in her nightgown and Sansa slowly began undoing the laces on the front.

Daenerys looked up at her with a soft smile. But Sansa’s fingers stilled when she noticed Daenerys’ sad eyes. Sansa leaned forward to take Daenerys’ lips in a gentle kiss and pulled back again.

“If you don’t feel the same… if you wish to stop…” said Sansa. She realized Daenerys hadn’t shared her own words of love and her expression looked like hesitance.

Daenerys answered by pushing Sansa onto her back and then she straddled her, pressing a searing kiss on her lips before whispering, “It’s not that, I was just thinking about the morning. But I do want this, Sansa. I want you.”

Before Sansa could answer, Daenerys sat up and started to say more but Sansa rose up quickly and embraced her. Then Sansa lowered her hands to find the bottom hem of Daenerys’ nightgown, lifting up. Daenerys’ eyes darted down to her hands and she swallowed her words. Looking up, she gave a quick nod and adjusted herself, allowing Sansa to lift the gown all the way off. She wasn’t wearing smallclothes and they both gasped at the new sensation of being naked against each other.

Sansa sighed. She knew it was too much to ask for Daenerys to not think about what might’ve been and what will be. Those thoughts swirled in her mind, too, but she forced herself to put this moment at the forefront. Her hands explored Daenerys’ skin, fingers tracing lazy trails down her neck, over her breasts and nipples and down her backside, all the while whispering, “Just focus on me, how this feels. I love you completely and utterly.”

Daenerys wanted to cry with joy as she felt Sansa’s feather-light kisses press along her neck, hands lightly caressing her breasts. She rolled her hips against Sansa, enjoying this closeness, the warmth of her skin. At Sansa’s light moan, she placed her hands on the sides of Sansa’s face and kissed her harshly. But Sansa broke away, biting down her neck.

“Is the neckline on your coronation dress high?” asked Sansa, teeth nipping on the soft spot between her shoulder and neck.

Daenerys chuckled. “I can make adjustments.”

Sansa smiled into Daenerys’ neck, allowing herself to suck a bit longer on her soft skin, and Daenerys shuddered against her.

“Sansa,” breathed Daenerys, eyes closed. “Only part of me regrets not doing this from the start. The conversations we had…” Daenerys’ breath hitched, finding it harder to form the words but she had to say them. She had to make sure Sansa knew how she felt and she opened her eyes, looking straight into Sansa’s. “The moments we shared, getting to know one another… I will treasure them always because it was in those moments we fell in love. I love you. You are my love.”

Sansa closed her eyes as Daenerys whispered those last words, trying to fight against the relieved tears that wanted to escape. Her body needed Daenerys closer. Sansa wrapped her left arm around Daenerys’ waist and used her right hand to pull Daenerys’ face towards her, pressing a deep kiss against her lips. Lips parted in hunger until they were both panting into each other’s mouths. Daenerys was now rolling her hips against Sansa at a quicker pace, and Sansa could feel her wetness and knew that Daenerys was seeking more pressure. She gazed at Daenerys’ face and saw how her eyes were clenched shut, and then she dragged her right hand down Daenerys’ neck, over her breasts, dropping it until she slid her hand between them and pressed a finger against her.

Daenerys’ eyes flew open at the same moment a moan escaped.

“Is this…?” asked Sansa, unsure.

“Yes,” answered Daenerys quickly. She felt Sansa immediately enter her and Daenerys clutched onto Sansa’s back, biting back a whimper.

It was as if Sansa was in a dream. The heat she felt, the wetness against her hand, her heart was racing so fast that Sansa felt lightheaded, as if she were becoming intoxicated. Sansa tried to focus on how Daenerys felt but became even more lost as Daenerys bit on her shoulder and muttered ‘more’. She answered by inserting another finger. And Sansa could feel how the sensation rippled through Daenerys’ body, how it emanated in heat and lust and Sansa was drowning in it, so hot she felt like she was on fire.

Daenerys pulled back and Sansa could see her eyes, could see how dark they were, and could tell that Daenerys was as lost in this as she was. And it was more passionate and more tender than it was the last time they were like this on that last night, back when Sansa was trying to hold back, when Daenerys had to peel away her walls one by one with every kiss and touch until the secret love of her heart was practically exposed in tears. But she didn’t have to hold back now.

Sansa gasped as Daenerys rolled hard against her, in love with every moment of this. Summoning her focus, Sansa straightened her gaze onto Daenerys and moved her left hand up to the back of Daenerys’ neck. Inserting a third finger, she watched Daenerys begin to come apart against her with every thrust, her moans and cries getting louder and more erratic.

She was getting closer, the burn in her thighs increasing, and Daenerys tried to keep her eyes on Sansa’s face. Daenerys had never seen anything more beautiful and she wanted this moment to last forever. There was a look of rapture in Sansa’s eyes. She saw the sweat on Sansa’s brow and felt her own sweat on her chest and back. Her hands moved from Sansa’s shoulders to her face, her thumbs sweeping over Sansa’s mouth. She pressed their foreheads together and tried to reach for her lips but then she felt Sansa press deeper into her, thrusting hard, and Daenerys pulled back in surprise. The rapture in Sansa’s eyes was replaced by possessiveness and Daenerys felt a surge of arousal. Feeling herself taken by a lust-filled Sansa made her shake in desire and she let go of her restraint, trusting in her lover to lead the rest of the way. It wasn’t long until Daenerys jolted upward and stiffened against Sansa, her release suddenly upon her, but Sansa didn’t stop her movements which only strengthened the waves of Daenerys’ pleasure, her cries for Sansa muffled by Sansa’s kisses.

Daenerys collapsed against her, pushing Sansa back down to the fur rug, softly whispering, “Sansa, Sansa...” Daenerys couldn’t stop her voice from cracking and she whimpered softly into Sansa’s neck as she tried to catch her breath, feeling overcome with her love and with the thought of only having this one night together.

Sansa gently rubbed Daenerys’ back and whispered soothing sounds until Daenerys began pressing gentle kisses on Sansa’s neck before moving off Sansa onto her left side, her eyes full of emotion, and Sansa loved how open Daenerys’ expression was, how neither of them had to hide anymore. It was like they truly belonged together now and Sansa leaned forward to nibble on Daenerys’ lower lip. Daenerys returned her kisses with soft nibbles of her own, a hand on Sansa’s neck which slowly made its way down to her lower back, until Sansa could feel her own need and arousal grow more demanding.

When Daenerys felt Sansa’s hands begin pulling against her, she deepened their kisses and let her right hand graze over Sansa’s breasts. Sansa arched into it and Daenerys was reminded of that night she had to restrain herself while Sansa touched herself. But now Daenerys could do all the touching and tasting she wanted.

She rolled one hardened nipple between her fingers before doing the same to the other. Sansa had her right arm wrapped Daenerys’ back, her left gripping the fur beneath her.

Sansa moaned into Daenerys’ mouth, and Daenerys slowly caressed her breasts again before moving her hand lower. She smiled at Sansa’s frown when instead of moving between Sansa’s legs, Daenerys skipped to her thigh. Daenerys leaned in for another long kiss as her hand pinched and kneaded her thighs, creeping upwards bit by bit until Sansa was whimpering in impatience.

As soon as the back of Daenerys’ hand grazed her wetness, Sansa pulled her mouth away and gasped. Before she could even take another breath, Daenerys quickly pressed two fingers into her. Sansa yelled out and dug her right hand tightly into Daenerys’ back, but Daenerys held still. She was about to ask if Sansa was all right when Sansa’s left hand gripped her upper arm and she began softly pushing herself against Daenerys’ hand. It took Daenerys’ breath away how Sansa gave of herself, how much trust she was giving to her, and Daenerys’ heart was pounding so loud she could barely hear her own breathing.

Sansa could barely form thoughts, the sensation of Daenerys inside her filling her and the pressure of her hand when it touched exactly where she needed it to making her pulse in pleasure with every thrust. Daenerys was strong, she could feel it, and her arousal made her hum with uncontrollable need.

“You are so beautiful,” Daenerys whispered, watching how Sansa moved against her hand, how her face was twisted in pleasure and concentration. She began slowly thrusting into her and Sansa let go of her arm, her hand going back to gripping the furs. Daenerys took her time, relishing every movement Sansa’s body made in response, becoming dizzy in Sansa’s heat.

“Keep going,” Sansa whispered in reply, leaning up to kiss her.

Daenerys smiled and she increased the pace until Sansa was taut with need. But then she would slow down again and kiss her hard on the mouth to distract her. She knew she was teasing her, bringing her to the edge only to pull away at the last moment, but she wanted to make it last. She wanted to bring this winter queen to her knees.

“Daenerys, please,” Sansa begged. She was exhausted, straining for release. It would’ve been painful if it also didn’t feel so good. Daenerys suckled on her neck and then breast, a bite earning a loud moan from Sansa.

“Please what?” asked Daenerys innocently, like she wasn’t slowly fucking Sansa senseless.

“Please finish me, please… I need…”

“No, that’s not what I want to hear, sweet Sansa.” Daenerys raised herself so that her face hovered over that of Sansa’s.

“Bend the knee,” Daenerys whispered and at the same time curled her fingers inside Sansa.

The shock of her words and the pleasure from her fingers flustered Sansa and she could barely bite out, “What?!”

Daenerys laughed softly and said, “Don’t worry, the North is yours. But here on these furs you are mine. I want to hear you say what you’ve never actually called me directly.”

As if to emphasize her point, Daenerys increased her hand’s movements, going faster and harder than she did before. Sansa turned her head into the furs, an open-mouthed smile on her face in spite of the harsh gasps for air she made, and Daenerys could tell Sansa understood her game. But deep down, she knew part of it wasn’t a game; that she felt a jealous, selfish need to claim Sansa. The song in her heart and the fire in her blood demanded it.  And she saw Sansa briefly debate whether to tease back and fight it, her instinct to maintain control trying to assert itself. Part of Daenerys hoped that she would, the flare of her arousal ready to see a defiant Sansa beneath her, but when Sansa turned back to look at her, the adoration filling those eyes that made Daenerys want to weep in thankfulness, she knew that Sansa would surrender.

“Daenerys…” Sansa groaned, shutting her eyes again, every sense in her body focused on Daenerys’ hand, climbing higher and higher to her release. “I am yours.”

“More,” Daenerys commanded.

“You are mine… you are my… oh… please…” Sansa lost the words, she was almost there. She lifted her head and tried to reach Daenerys’ lips. If Daenerys stopped now she would scream. The glint in Daenerys’ eyes told Sansa she was tempted to deny her and Sansa widened her eyes, pleading for mercy.

“What am I, Sansa?” Daenerys encouraged, her lips just above Sansa’s mouth, darting a tongue to lick her lower lip.

“My Queen, you are my queen!” Sansa answered with a yell, her pleasure knocking her back down into the furs. She smiled and sobbed, a few tears falling from her eyes, as she crested through her release.

Daenerys slowed her pace, watching the pleasure course through Sansa, giving her all the love and tenderness that Sansa deserved. She kissed her softly on the lips and then trailed soft, reverent kisses down Sansa’s body, whispering once she reached her inner thigh, “And you are my Queen. Always.”

*::::*

They later moved to the bed under the furs, lying on their sides staring at each other while their fingers danced and played softly together. Then Sansa pulled her hand away to touch the tiny moles on Daenerys’ face, leaning forward to kiss them. Her fingers moved down to the mole on Daenerys’ left shoulder and leaned forward to kiss there and then brushed back the furs and dragged her mouth to every mark she could see across her chest. The feel of her skin, the weight of her breasts, the muscle of her thighs, Sansa tried to memorize it all but knew she would fail.

“I don’t want to forget,” Sansa breathed, glancing helplessly all over her body, unable to prevent the tremor in her voice.

“Shhh, it’s all right. It’s all right for our memories to blur. We’ll remember our love,” whispered Daenerys. Her hand reached for Sansa’s.

“What else will you remember?” Sansa asked softly, lying back down beside Daenerys.

“I’ll remember your eyes, the piercing blue of them. Your stare would always leave me breathless,” Daenerys answered. Her hand reached for Sansa’s hair. “The fire of your hair, how it looked that day of the ride through the Wolfswood. Do you still ride?”

“As often as I can. It’s about the only time I feel most in control of my day.”

“I can understand. I feel free and invincible on Drogon, like nothing can stop me.”

“Well, he is a dragon after all. Very little can stop him,” laughed Sansa. Then Sansa’s hand reached for Daenerys’ face. “I’m going to remember how your eyes crinkle when you smile, your real smile.”

“Your laugh. It was always so hard-earned,” Daenerys said with a smile.

“Your lips. So full and soft. The first time I kissed you, I was so surprised how soft they were.”

They lay there smiling at each other thinking of other memories. Daenerys could name so many and she became sad that there wouldn’t be more.

Sansa didn’t know why she went from warm memories to looking at Daenerys’ abdomen but she was suddenly staring, thinking about the child, a daughter that wasn’t hers. Rationally, Sansa knew such a thing was impossible but the thought that she and Daenerys could have raised a child together suddenly came to her and she found it hard to breathe knowing that Jon was going to experience it instead. Have they been together like this in King’s Landing?

Daenerys saw the look on Sansa’s face, like she wanted to ask something. She took Sansa’s hand and placed it over her stomach and whispered, “Just ask me what you want to know, Sansa.”

Sansa’s brow furrowed. She was worried that it was inappropriate, that she had no right to ask. Daenerys gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and Sansa nodded, looking into her eyes.

“Have the two of you…?”

“No,” Daenerys responded quietly, knowing before Sansa was done with her question what she wanted to know.

“So the night of the farewell feast?”

Daenerys took a deep breath, nodded, and said, “Yes.” The only other time she’d seen jealousy in Sansa over Jon was the morning after that feast, in her solar when they had desperately kissed through their tears. Sansa had been so crushed she could barely look at her. Daenerys could see similar jealousy in Sansa now, along with heartache. She moved forward to press a gentle kiss on Sansa’s lips, and then pulled back. It was not an apology, for she couldn’t truly regret it now given the result of that night growing inside her. But she understood why it would affect Sansa in this way. Just imagining Sansa carrying Tyrion’s child brought a great, mind-numbing rage to her own heart. She took another deep breath, knowing she’d said too much. Sansa was too close to finding out the truth of her arrangement with Jon.

Sansa could feel a different question in the back of her mind. There was something like fear in Daenerys’ eyes, like she was afraid of what else Sansa would want to know.

“Jon is happy about this, isn’t he?”

Daenerys blinked out of her thoughts, wondering if her face had betrayed what she’d been thinking.

“Of course. It’s still a bit of a shock, though. I only found out three days ago and told him the following day.”

Sansa nodded and looked away. She didn’t really want to know what Jon said. She was sure he had been overjoyed with the news; that not only would he get to spend the rest of his life with the woman he loved, he would also be a father.

And Sansa lunged at her with a kiss, not wanting to think any more of a future with only these memories to sustain her. Memories were not love and Daenerys was still here in her arms. Laying over her, Sansa deepened the kiss until she could tell that Daenerys was breathless.

She pulled back and said in a hoarse voice, “I am happy for you but you have to know that I wish it was me that gave you this child, that I was the one you would be sharing your life with, that you would be mine and mine alone.”

Panting hard, Daenerys stared up at Sansa as she spoke, her eyes widening at every word, until she felt her heart break. It was a wish that she had dared not think for herself since she had left Winterfell but having heard it from Sansa’s lips, she knew she wanted it, too. Tears welled in her eyes and the love she felt for Sansa almost made her repeat those things she’d said the night before she left, when she’d asked Sansa to come with her. But it was only a wish; Sansa wasn’t really saying she was willing to do this. Sansa was Queen in the North and could not come live with her in King’s Landing. Daenerys swallowed her ache and blinked back her tears.

Sansa didn’t know what she had expected when she foolishly said those things. Daenerys was going to wed Jon and Sansa had to stay here and rule the North. And while the look Daenerys gave her was full of love, she wasn’t opening her mouth to wish for the same. Sansa closed her eyes, trying to bury this wish down, this urge to make tonight more than it was. This was goodbye, not a beginning. She felt the sting in her eyes but she shook her head. It wasn’t time to cry yet, not when they still had a few more hours together.

*::::*

Sansa slowly opened her eyes and smiled at the woman sleeping next to her, for the moment able to ignore the ache in her heart. Despite their best efforts, they had not been able to stay awake the whole night but Sansa enjoyed watching Daenerys sleep so she didn’t try to wake her when exhaustion finally overtook her. Looking at where the flame was on the candle on the nightstand, Sansa knew it would be another hour before dawn. She imagined the bustle of servants, the castle in its beginning stirs to life in a new day, the tasks she herself needed to get done. They were out of time.

She lifted a finger to trace a line down Daenerys’ shoulder over her arm. At the touch, Daenerys opened her eyes.

“Good morning,” whispered Sansa.

Daenerys groaned and turned over.

Sansa smiled sadly and sat up. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she took a deep breath and said, “If you wish to leave at dawn, then I should go back to my rooms now and dress. You should eat what’s left of the food on the table and once you are dressed, meet me in my bedchamber where we can fix each other’s hair and say goodbye.”

At those words, Daenerys opened her eyes again and reached a hand to touch Sansa’s arm. She wasn’t ready for this, this was too jarring. Daenerys admired the curve of Sansa’s side, the tall line of her back, the scars that showed how strong she was. She wanted a softer parting from this bed.

Squeezing her arm gently, Daenerys said, “I can leave a little bit after dawn.”

Sansa slowly turned her head to look down at Daenerys lying on her pillow. Daenerys’ small smile hinted at what she wanted to do in the meantime. Relief filled Sansa and she threw herself at her, pinning Daenerys’ hands beside her head and Sansa saw her eyes darken in arousal.

“Just a bit?” Sansa asked, leaning forward to bite Daenerys’ chin.

“Another hour?” Daenerys breathed.

“Mmm, better,” murmured Sansa, biting down Daenerys’ neck, thankful that they could postpone goodbye for a little while longer.

Later, when they could postpone it no longer, Sansa put on her nightgown and robe and walked out of the room. Grey Worm and Brienne were there and while Brienne held her usual neutral expression, Sansa thought she could see sympathy in her eyes. Sansa told her to knock on Daenerys’ door if she didn’t emerge within the hour, then she hurried up the stair to her rooms so that she could release the sobs she’d been holding back since she woke up.

*::::*

When it was time, Daenerys and Sansa walked out of the Keep together to the yard. It wasn’t a large gathering of onlookers but the ones who were there seemed happy to see Daenerys and wished her well. Daenerys greeted the ones she knew and the ones she didn’t. She nodded to Bran, Maester Wolkan and Jaime Lannister. Brienne was there, too, and gave Sansa a supporting nod. A servant handed a small bag of provisions to Grey Worm then rushed away. He strapped it to his back, next to the bag holding the dress.

Sansa and Daenerys walked out through the gate. Drogon was already waiting. With soldiers and others watching, Sansa risked an embrace but nothing more.

“Are you sure we won’t see each other again? I do have willpower, you know,” Sansa said dreamily, using her fingers to draw abstract shapes along Daenerys’ back.

“I wouldn’t be able to resist you, Sansa,” Daenerys replied, turning over onto her back and placing a hand on Sansa’s cheek.

All Sansa heard was that Daenerys needed to stay away so her feelings for her would dull, so she could devote herself fully to Jon. She knew those thoughts were fueled by bitterness and jealousy but she couldn’t help it.

Sansa continued her finger tracing, this time around Daenerys’ abdomen; there was no obvious swelling but Sansa tried to picture what she would look like, to picture all the things she would miss. Instead of letting the tears come, Sansa leaned forward to press tender kisses against Daenerys’ belly, whispering little missives and blessings. When Sansa raised her eyes to look at Daenerys’ face, she saw such love and understanding. Slowly, she trailed kisses up her body until Daenerys grabbed her face and pulled her into a passionate kiss, as if she knew what Sansa had been thinking. When Daenerys began panting against her, Sansa lowered her mouth and bit hard on Daenerys’ breast, not caring about any marks she left behind. Daenerys was asking too much of her, to never see her again... It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Her anger and despair grew and she thrust her fingers into Daenerys to make her feel it, to make her remember.

Daenerys pulled back and they silently stared at each other, ignoring the onlookers. She didn’t care what they thought of her but she would not cause any embarrassment for Sansa. As it was, she felt too empty to let tears fall anyway. Their goodbyes in their bedchambers had been the true ones. Daenerys stepped back, one hand still holding onto Sansa’s.

Daenerys was on her back, raised up on her elbows, watching Sansa trail kisses up her leg. Slow, wet kisses. She was wearing the grey dress; Sansa had asked her to put it on and she happily did so. The lust it inspired in Sansa made her doubly happy. When Sansa’s kisses reached Daenerys’ inner thigh, Sansa began whispering, her gaze locked on Daenerys’ eyes.

“I will see you again, Daenerys Stormborn. We are family. And we are Queens. We’ll have a coronation anniversary celebration since ours are so close together. On Dragonstone. Five years from now. Just for the Stark families. And we will talk and remain friends. Even if you don’t love me anymore. Five years. Promise me you’ll be there. Promise me.”

“I promise. I promise,” Daenerys breathed, throwing her head back and submitting to Sansa’s demand. It was the image of Sansa on Dragonstone that had weakened her. To have her there at her family’s seat. To see her gorgeous hair blowing in the sea air. Five years should be long enough for Sansa and Tyrion to settle into their marriage, she thought. Sansa lowered her head to her center, Sansa’s hands holding her hips in place as Daenerys arched into her mouth, one of her hands fisting Sansa’s hair.

Daenerys finally let go of her hand. With a short nod, Sansa turned around and walked back through the gate and climbed the steps to watch from the wall. Turning to the soldiers standing there, she told them to leave her alone on the wall until after the Queen left. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Brienne join her on the wall but she kept her distance and Sansa decided to let her stay. Daenerys mounted Drogon, with Grey Worm carefully climbing on behind her. Their eyes met once more. Sansa could tell Drogon was eager to leave but Daenerys held him in check. Sansa squeezed a gloved hand into a fist, feeling the keepsake Daenerys left to her tucked inside.

“You are a romantic, Sansa Stark,” Daenerys chuckled as she cut a small lock of hair that Sansa had requested. The cheer on her face was then replaced by sadness. They looked into each other’s eyes and Daenerys reached for Sansa’s hand.

As if making a vow, she said, “I will cherish the keepsake in my dress and here is my token in return, to always remember how much we meant to one another.”

Sansa walked to her dressing table and sat down and tried not to think about Daenerys using the past tense of ‘meant’. She tied one end of the lock of hair with string and quickly braided and tied off the other end. She put on her gloves and tucked it inside one of them. They were dressed. She stood up, walked over to Daenerys and said, “Tell me again.”

“I love you.

Sansa took hold of Daenerys’ gloved hands and held them to her heart, closing her eyes in anguish.

“Again.”

Daenerys leaned up and brushed her lips against Sansa’s.

“I love you,” Daenerys repeated, pulling Sansa into another kiss. Then she backed her to the bed and lifted up her skirts.

“There’s no time…”

“There’s time,” Daenerys said firmly.

Daenerys removed her gloves. Possessive. Angry. Pained. Desperate. Daenerys’ eyes shone brightly as she waited for Sansa to nod her consent. And she did.

Sansa felt her hand thrust beneath her smallclothes. She bit down on Daenerys’ clothed shoulder to keep from crying out.

“I am yours and you are mine. Say it.”

“I am yours and you are mine,” Sansa said between gasps. “More… please…”

She didn’t see Daenerys mouth the command but Sansa saw Drogon start flapping his wings, getting ready to fly. For a moment Daenerys was out of her sight and her heart stopped. The ache inside grew larger. Drogon left the ground and they flew up in ever widening circles around Winterfell. Sansa kept her eyes towards Daenerys as much as she could, the rising sun making it hard at certain points to do so. But she wouldn’t look away for as long as they remained within her sight.

Their arms locked around each other, squeezing each other tightly.

Daenerys whispered into Sansa’s ear, “Sansa, my Sansa, I love you so. If you change your mind about Dragonstone, I’ll understand.” It hurt Daenerys to say it but she had to so Sansa wouldn’t feel guilty when the time came and she found it unnecessary and inconvenient.

“I’ll be there.”

Sansa buried her face into Daenerys’ neck, trying to cherish these promises of reunion. But anything could happen in five years. The possibility that this would be the last time she would get to hold Daenerys in her arms like this made her tremble in pain and sorrow.  

She pulled her face out of Daenerys’ neck and whispered ‘Goodbye’ against Daenerys’ lips, who hungrily kissed her. Daenerys let go first, pulling out of their embrace, but not releasing Sansa’s hands.

“This was real, Daenerys. My love is real. Don’t ever forget that.”

Daenerys nodded, holding back her tears and trying to hold on to Sansa’s words as they walked to Sansa’s bedchamber door and opened it.

Drogon took another pass.

Daenerys didn’t know how long she planned to fly around Winterfell. She just knew she couldn’t take her eyes off the woman below, getting smaller and smaller but her red hair still burning into her heart.

The ache spread through Sansa’s body, making it hard to breathe, but she stood straight and proud. She would not break down. She would be strong and unyielding, the Queen in the North that had won the heart of the Dragon Queen.

Another pass.

Daenerys knew she had to turn away. It was time. But her heart refused, screaming at her that her love was down below and that she had to go back. Drogon screeched out loud, knowing his mother’s struggle.

This time Sansa’s lips parted slightly and her hands reached for the wall in front of her and gripped it tightly. It wasn’t a yes. When she’d asked Daenerys if she would love Jon she hadn’t said yes.

They’re not in love.

Sansa’s heartbeat quickened and her mind raced through their conversations. Daenerys was doing this for her, so she would be happy with Tyrion. Daenerys didn’t know; Sansa had lied about there being a possibility for love between her and Tyrion. A love in friendship, yes, but not like the love she felt for Daenerys. And now she was doing what Sansa had done, sacrificing her love so that the other could be happy.

Sansa mouthed the word, “Wait.”

Before they left for King’s Landing, Jon had offered to step aside, said other things, too, but she thought he was just trying to be kind. She didn’t want to hear, he’d wanted to tell her more but she’d interrupted. Daenerys said he had wanted her to come. He wanted it knowing what she and Daenerys would do. If he supported this…

“Wait,” Sansa said out loud. It wasn’t a shout. She was gasping for air now and tried to force a yell but she was panicked. The words of others flew through her mind.

“…the freedom I enjoy to make my choices without regard to others’ expectations…”

“You have to make things happen for yourself.”

“…you don’t have to let duty kill your love…”

“…you are free to love her.”

Five years would be too long. A lifetime without the love she wanted. Sansa saw Daenerys’ face turn away and knew Drogon would now be directed south. She turned to Brienne, stricken, and saw Brienne’s eyes widen. Instantly, Brienne turned towards Drogon and shouted.

“Wait!”

Brienne yelled once more and ran down the stair and out through the gate, yelling again, and Sansa followed, her eyes up in the air praying that Daenerys had heard. She avoided glancing at the various servants, smallfolk, and soldiers as she passed. Sansa wasn’t running but she may as well have been. The voice of her mother spoke in her mind, scolding her for giving them this image of her but Sansa didn’t care. She didn’t care because she would have her love. My love, my love, please come back. If she didn’t, Sansa would rush to the rookery and send a raven. But even with a raven Daenerys would have time to organize her arguments against Sansa before she had a chance to see her again and argue in person. She needed her back now while their goodbye and hurt was still fresh.

Daenerys’ eyes were filled with tears when she turned away but she held on, she wouldn’t break down until they were far away from Winterfell. Then she would allow herself to cry against Drogon’s back, at the love she had given up but which she would always feel. She already felt lost in grief when Grey Worm tapped her on the shoulder and she turned back to him. He pointed behind him towards the castle. She looked and the figures were tiny but she recognized Brienne running outside the gate, holding a hand up. Then red hair emerged behind her. Her heart stopped and without thinking, she guided Drogon into a turn, feeling a panic rise up within her. Something was wrong.

Sansa couldn’t help the sob that escaped her when she saw Drogon begin his turn. She slowed to a standstill and calmed herself, planning out her words. It would be quite the discussion between them but she was confident she could convince Daenerys. There would be jealousies and compromises; having to share themselves with husbands, the affection that grew between spouses as children were born would make it hard on all of them. As Queens of separate kingdoms, there would be long stretches of time spent apart and that would also change the fervor of their love. The struggle with wanting more than a visit or two per year would hurt them deeply. A secret love, never out in the open, never to live with each other the way they would want. Sansa took a sobering breath, recognizing that she had to be realistic with herself about this, about the emotional pain that lay ahead of them. It was one of the strongest arguments against this choice and she couldn’t discount it.

Dealing with rumors and her acrimonious lords would also be difficult, though they would give her trouble no matter what she did. Even if Sansa never spoke with Daenerys again she knew her lords would always find fault with any perceived favor in her decisions related to the south. Sansa was also a woman and they would always judge her for it. But fear had ruled her long enough. These weeks of longing and heartbreak at being without Daenerys had taught her she could not face a lifetime without her. Sansa should’ve known the moment she confessed her love that she wouldn’t be able to let her go. It had been what she was afraid of the last time Daenerys was here; that acknowledging or acting on how she felt would lead to this choice. But she did not feel any regret for it now. And how could she when their love made her feel more powerful and in control of her destiny than any crown ever could. She wanted this. She wanted Daenerys.

Then Sansa thought of Arya and Gendry. If they were to wed, one of their children could be the Stark heir Winterfell needed. Sansa wouldn’t have to wed and Tyrion would be free. Her heart burst with this possibility. She would speak with Arya as soon as she got to King’s Landing. There was a slight possibility that Arya would say no but she had a feeling that Arya’s prolonged presence in King’s Landing with Gendry meant there was a stronger possibility of a yes.

It was in that moment Sansa knew she wouldn’t wed no matter what Arya’s answer was. She would choose another heir if she had to. She could choose Falon. If Arya said no and Ned Stark’s line ended through Sansa, so be it. A trace of guilt flitted through Sansa’s heart at her selfishness and she hoped her ancestors would forgive her but she didn’t want to be wed to Tyrion, she didn’t want to bind herself to any man.

Sansa decided she wouldn’t ask Daenerys to not wed Jon. There were still many risks to consider and a marriage with Jon would also provide a cover for Daenerys’ relationship with her. Above all, Daenerys’ daughter had to be protected. But Sansa had to see Jon; she had to see it in his eyes that there were no doubts. She had a feeling he also had thoughts on how they would make this work, that there was more to his insistence that Daenerys come to her. Was this what he and Tyrion had been corresponding about?

As Drogon began to land in front of them, Sansa turned to Brienne and gave instructions to prepare two small bags, one for her and a bag for herself. They would be going to King’s Landing for the coronation and would return in a week so she would need one everyday dress and a formal one for the ceremony, perhaps the one she planned for her own coronation. Sansa would have to buy or borrow whatever else they needed once they got there. They would depart in an hour. Brienne hurried off. That should be enough time to win her argument, leave instructions for Bran to take charge while she was away, and prepare for the journey. Drogon was more imposing than ever and Sansa did not know if she could do this but she was more than competent on horseback, she had to be able to manage it. She had to for Daenerys.

After landing, Daenerys stared at Sansa in alarm, wondering what had happened. But she relaxed when she saw Sansa’s enigmatic smile yet she was still confused over why she’d been called back. Looking behind Sansa, she saw Brienne rushing inside through the gate and sudden understanding came to her. Her eyes opened wide in shock and she stared back at Sansa, those piercing eyes confirming Sansa’s intent. Daenerys took several deep breaths, struggling with how to respond. She felt overwhelmed by the possibilities and the dangers of this decision. But looking at her now, seeing Sansa’s resolve, Daenerys could only imagine how Sansa would seek to persuade her and she smiled at the thought.

Sansa’s skin tingled when she saw Daenerys’ smile, those eyes crinkling in that way that she adored. She couldn’t help the relieved laugh she released.

Descending off Drogon, with Grey Worm close behind, Daenerys slowly walked towards Sansa. She could almost hear the arguments Sansa was going to make. After all, Daenerys had made similar suggestions to Sansa the night before she left Winterfell back when she was desperate to hear what Sansa truly felt, when Sansa argued against every point she’d made. She hadn’t wanted to hope for this, had remained silent out of respect for Sansa’s sense of duty, trying to make it easier for her and Tyrion. Parting forever was preferable to suffering in a friendship that couldn’t be more. But now… now she felt hope grow like she had never felt it. And the fact that Sansa wanted to try meant everything.

But the risks, her jealousy… How are we going to do this?

She could see that Sansa was trying to erase the smile on her face but it only grew wider as Daenerys came closer. Gods help me, I love her, thought Daenerys, feeling the certainty settle deep in her heart that she would make any sacrifice necessary, she would endure every jealousy if it meant not giving each other up. Sansa was her home now. She would defy anyone that tried to take her away.

They were within arm’s reach when Daenerys spoke.

“You had more words to say to the Queen of the Six Kingdoms, your Grace?”

Sansa resisted the sharp intake of breath at this opening volley and turned her smile into a sly smirk. The assertion of title, the sway of her hips when she said ‘your Grace’. It was flirtation and power rolled into one.

She anticipated Daenerys to comment about Sansa’s prior adamant refusals to ever ride Drogon. Sansa would counter that by saying Daenerys should be familiar with a Queen’s prerogative to change her mind. Witty remarks, sensible arguments, more sparring, more touches, more sighs. Maybe she should’ve told Brienne two hours. She would have to change into riding wear after all. The hairs on the nape of her neck rose in excitement at the battle about to begin, a battle they would fight together as one, a battle that only two people in power and in love understood.