Chapter Text
Sansa stands tall in Winterfell’s yard, giving Jon a side glance when Daenerys Targaryen approaches. The Dragon Queen is shorter than she expected. Her hair is as white as snow, her purple eyes set on her. She really is as beautiful as the tales say. Her hands are joined in front of her. She seems in control, which infuriates Sansa. Then, the Queen has the audacity to smile at her as she walks, accompanied by a man Sansa does not recognize. Sansa sighs angrily. Jon nods at Daenerys, then at Sansa. The latter raises her head and elongates her neck. She looks down at Daenerys, and says with a polite voice, ‘‘Winterfell is yours, Your Grace.’’ Daenerys nods, still offering Sansa a small smile. Sansa wants to wipe that smile off her face.
It takes all Sansa has to get through the supper in the Great Hall. She keeps rehearsing the words she wants to address to Jon in her head while consuming meat and mead because she has to. Daenerys sits at the place of honor, the place Sansa used to have. Arya sits next to her, and it is clear that her sister is also angry with Jon — Arya doesn’t hide her feelings as well as Sansa has learned to — and that brings her comfort. She is used to Bran being emotionless, and the uneasiness she thinks she notices on his face is a surprise.
After supper, Bran retreats to the Godswood. Sansa assures Brienne that she is safe and Brienne retreats to her chambers. Sansa then waits for Jon with Arya. Ghost arrives before Jon and Arya sits on the floor to pet him properly. Sansa greets him with a few scratches and even she cannot suppress a small smile at Ghost’s happy expression. Jon comes in a minute or so later.
‘‘How could you bend the knee?’’ Arya asks sharply after having stood up.
‘‘Daenerys will help us in the Great War. She let us mine the dragonglass without conditions. She saved us beyond the Wall. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be here. She came to our aid even if we hadn’t yet bent the knee, even if she had previously said she would only help once we surrendered the North. She will do well by the North,’’ Jon explains.
‘‘We did not bend the knee. You did, without counsel,’’ Sansa interjects. Before Jon can reply, she continues, ‘‘Believe me when I say I am grateful she saved you, but haven’t you considered she might have done so precisely to gain your trust? To get what she wants? Daenerys is a conqueror. She wants to rule. She is not here to be friendly.’’
Jon glares at Arya. ‘‘Daenerys has lost a dragon while rescuing us. She risked her children’s lives for us. I appreciate your counsel, but I am the King in the North. I’m the one who has to make the decisions.’’
‘‘You were the King in the North,’’ Arya replies.
Sansa counters Jon, ‘‘Do you appreciate my counsel? You didn’t listen to me when we fought the Battle of the Bastards. You didn’t acknowledge that the army of the Vale fought by our side for me. You did not even thank me for helping you retake our home. You took this victory as yours alone. I believed you could be a good King, because you were a good man. Even if the last time you were in a position of power, you were stabbed to death because of your decisions. All that I can forgive. But you forfeited our people to the Targaryens. The house that burned our grandfather and uncle alive. The house that is responsible for our aunt’s death. The North remembers, Jon.’’
Jon raises his voice, thought he tries not to, ‘‘Do you think I’m oblivious to the history between the Targaryens and the Starks?’’ He takes a deep breath, ‘‘You don’t know Daenerys yet. I do. She is not her father’s daughter. She did not commit his sins. I ask you to trust me.’’
Sansa and Arya share a look. Their newly found complicity calms Sansa.
‘‘Very well. I do trust you, Jon. It is the Dragon Queen I do not trust,’’ Sansa answers.
‘‘Thank you. You will learn to trust her in time, I’m sure,’’ Jon concludes.
He bids them both good night and leaves. He tells Ghost that he needs to be alone for a while, and the direwolf heads for the yard. He discreetly walks to Daenerys’s chambers and knocks. Missandei asks who it is, and when Jon answers, she opens the door.
‘‘Her Grace is sleeping,’’ she tells him gently.
He can see Daenerys sleeping in the bed, probably exhausted from the trip and the cold.
‘‘No doubt she needs the rest. I will see her in the morning, then,’’ he smiles awkwardly. Missandei nods and closes the door.
When Jon’s footsteps cannot be heard anymore, Daenerys opens her eyes, ‘‘Do you think he believed us?’’
‘‘Yes. You are good at pretending to be asleep,’’ Missandei smiles softly.
Daenerys sighs. ‘‘I am not good at pretending to love someone, though.’’
‘‘That is a good quality, Daenerys. You cannot deceive in love.’’
Daenerys nods, unconvinced, but hearing Missandei use her name lifts her spirits. She has a true friend, one who is comfortable enough with her to forget her title. A friend who sees her as a person, who knows her as she is, and chooses to stay beside her. A friend she can confide in.
‘‘The intimacy we shared was a mistake. I was lonely and he brought me a bit of comfort. I do not wish for this to go further. I have no intention of marrying him. I just … I do not want him to think I manipulated him to get him to bend the knee,’’ Daenerys says.
‘‘He had already bent the knee when he shared your bed.’’
‘‘I could have rebuffed his advances. I fear if I do so now, he might resent me and the tension that results from this conflict will prevent us to plan the Great War to the best of our abilities. I cannot allow a dispute to endanger my people.’’
Missandei waits for Daenerys to continue.
‘‘I do not want to mislead Jon Snow, either.’’ She pauses. ‘‘I will tell him. I must. I did not become Queen to use people as pawns.’’ Nor will I let him jeopardize our alliance.
‘‘You can make it clear that you do not want your relationship to affect the realm. There are more important things to focus on. I am sure Jon Snow knows that.’’
Daenerys agrees. She hopes Missandei is right.
There was another problem, too. Sansa Stark did not seem to accept her presence in Winterfell and what it meant. Sansa had been the one in charge during Jon’s absence. She was the key to the North. I must get on well with her solely for the sake of our people, Daenerys thinks. She tries to block the memory of her heart swelling at the sight of Sansa. I was not prepared for her, that is all. Jon had not told me how beautiful she was. How tall, how imposing. She had not expected Sansa’s icy eyes to pierce her. She could not have foreseen the warmth that enveloped her when Sansa addressed her. Before falling asleep, she convinces herself that there is nothing more to it. Sansa was simply unexpected.