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The summer came far too quickly, whisking Sansa back to Winterfell and away from this new life she had began for herself at boarding school. All of her new and wonderful friends were left behind in King's Landing. This she mourned greatly. Mixing with her grief was the comfort of returning home after so much time away. Sansa missed her parents and siblings with a fierceness. Soon, she would see them and the castle she called home. With a bitter taste on her tongue yet a warm chest, Sansa stepped out of the coach and back into Winterfell.
Her mother first greeted her. The Duchess rushed to Sansa, grabbing her by the hands with a bright smile and watery eyes.
"How are you, my darling? It's been so long."
"I'm well, Mother. Glad to be home," Sansa told her, speaking only a half-truth, not a lie.
"Let us get you inside and settled, dearest. I'm sure you're exhausted."
Her mother ushered her towards the doors as serving staff took her baggage into the castle. Sansa could not deny her exhaustion. The train and coach rides had been long and lonely, her heart cleaving in two for the separate lives she now lived. Surely, it would ease the longer she spent in the comforts of home amongst family. She would return to school and the joys of her newfound friendships in time. Now was a time for rest.
"Where is everyone?" Sansa asked as her mother led her through the front and further into the castle.
"Jon's only just arrived yesterday. I'm afraid that excitement has yet to die."
At the mention of her half-brother, Sansa felt her interest pique. It'd been so long since their strife as children, and now that they'd both been off to school, she wondered if things would be different between them now. Jon had never wronged her, not really. The air of moodiness surrounding him contrasted too heavily with her hopefulness, and she blamed their tense relationship on that. She followed her mother into the sitting room where Jon and some of her other siblings were, and she warmed at the sight.
Maybe this summer would be different.
…
On her second day home, Vayon Poole approached her where she read by the window.
"Lady Sansa, you have a visitor."
Sansa set aside her book. "Who is it?"
She'd never had many callers in the past. The House Steward's own daughter had been one of the few in the past. As she rose from her reading spot, Vayon informed her it was a girl her age.
"She did not give a name, only conveyed urgency and that I fetch you and you alone."
A furrow formed between her brows as she followed the House Steward towards the doors to the castle. In the entryway, a short girl waited with her back turned to them. She stared outside the window beside the front door. Vayon cleared his throat to gain her attention.
"The Lady Sansa Stark, as requested."
The girl spun around, wide blue eyes meeting Sansa's own. Before Sansa could call her name, she quickly greeted Sansa with the introduction: "Lady Margaery Tyrell, from school. I'd hoped we could speak privately a moment."
Sansa schooled her features at the falsehood, but she dismissed Vayon all the same. As soon as the steward had left them, Sansa rushed forward and into a half-hearted curtsy her mother would've scolded her for.
"My princess, to what do I owe the honor?"
Daenerys Targaryen, youngest sister to the king, Rhaegar, stood before her with hair darkened and clothes a touch too plain for her rank. She had lied about her name in front of Vayon as well. Something was amiss, and Sansa's heart pounded against her ribcage in anxiety.
"Please, do not call me that here," Daenerys insisted. "My identity must be concealed. I—I ran away from home."
"You what?"
"Rhaegar had made marriage plans for me behind my back! And while I was away at school, no less. He expects me to drop my education, give up my freedoms, and marry some Duke. He's selling me off, Sansa. I didn't know what else to do but flee."
Sansa's mind swam with all this information. Still it all begged the question: "Why are you in Winterfell?"
"I know it's unfair to ask so much of you, but I thought us friends during this past year. I'd hoped that you might house me, for a time. Just until I figure out a plan."
Sansa blushed from the notion she and the princess were friends but did not address it. "My father would never allow it."
"That's why I'm pretending to be another of our friends from school. Lady Margaery is safely home in Highgarden, but what she may never know will not harm her." Daenerys was near pleading, and Sansa felt her resolve weakening.
"What am I to say of your sudden appearance?"
"That I wanted to ward in the North for a short time. I can speak to him myself if need be, to plead my case."
Sansa felt the sudden urge to pace or twirl her hair, habits that her mother and teachers had long since reprimanded her out of. Such responsibility had never been placed upon her shoulders, but Sansa's pride from the princess's trust soared as the girl before her flitted her eyes about the entry room. Sansa straightened her back, ignoring all of her bad habits calling to her, and nodded to Daenerys.
"We shall go to him together. That might better sway him," Sansa said.
Daenerys's tension in her shoulders nearly melted completely.
"Thank you, Sansa. I cannot express my full gratitude."
"You need not. I'm only glad that you trust me."
Daenerys had cool blue eyes, but as Sansa was so close to see into their depths, she watched them warm at Sansa's words. She looped her arm around Sansa's and asked her to lead the way.
Together, they would face the judgment of the Duke Eddard Stark.
…
Convincing Sansa's father had taken less due to her mother's presence in his study when they found him. The Duchess was overjoyed at the prospect of warding a highborn lady, especially one Sansa had already befriended. Her father gave in easily at her mother's joy and Sansa's excitement to have a friend there, though Sansa could see the doubt in his features at the abrupt nature of "Margaery's" arrival.
Daenerys had used her genius to craft the lie that the Duke of Highgarden had sent letters that must've been lost in travel. She assured Sansa's father that she would write to him immediately after settling to ensure he knew of her safe travel. This seemed to put him at ease a bit, but that look in his eyes as they left him and her mother alone made her worry over the possible length of Daenerys's stay. She feared he already teetered on the edge of discovering their lie.
Nonetheless, they'd done it for now. Sansa had the joy of showing Daenerys to her room across the hall from Sansa's own. Daenerys immediately flopped unceremoniously onto the bed. Sansa giggled at the sight. Daenerys sent an unheated glare her way.
"If you've been through the week I have, then you would understand my exhaustion."
"I don't doubt your exhaustion, my princess. It's only that I've never seen you so at ease before. You've barely gained permission to be here and already you seem more relaxed than I've ever known," Sansa explained.
"I can't very well make a fool of my name at school when everyone knows I'm the princess."
"Well, I know who you are," Sansa reminded.
Daenerys laughed at that. "Yes, you are different though, Sansa."
Sansa cast her eyes away as heat flushed her cheeks. She took in the guest room that they were providing to Daenerys, and she felt it must be inferior to the castle from which she'd come.
"I do hope that Winterfell is to your standards, my princess."
"Please, you may call me by name when alone." Daenerys sat up on the bed, looking around the room herself now. "It's quite cozy here. Despite the bitter cold, I'm not unconvinced I might prefer it to King's Landing in time."
"How long do you intend to be here?"
Sansa worried about the wrath of the king. He'd soon discover his youngest sibling missing and begin scouring the kingdom for her. Sansa did not wish for his anger to fall upon her father's head for her own deceits. Still, she wanted to help Daenerys in any way she could, even if it meant lying to her entire family and house staff.
Daenerys looked at her feet kicking off the edge of the bed. "I'm unsure, Sansa. I fear what happens when I return to my brother and his schemes."
"Is it so bad to be married?" Sansa couldn't help her question. Marriage had long occupied most of her fantasies, and she couldn't imagine being so upset by the prospect she'd run from home. Especially if Sansa had been born into royalty with greater comforts than even Winterfell.
"I do not wish to be married off to some strange man likely twice my age and even more dull," Daenerys nearly snapped the words out. Regret creeped onto her features at Sansa's step back from her tone. "I only mean that I wish to choose my own fate. I'm to inherit nothing. I'm not my brother's heir or even third in line. Why must I follow his fate of being married for politics?"
Sansa could sympathize with such complaints. While the eldest daughter of the Stark family, Sansa was not subjected to the same fate as Robb as eldest son and heir to the estate. Sansa would likely be married off some day, but a part of her had always hoped for the mercy of picking her husband at least. Daenerys faced the fate of not being allowed that and of being forced into some man's home as his wife despite hardly knowing him. When Sansa dreamed of marriage, it was always hand-in-hand with dreams of finding love. Daenerys seemed unlike to find love in a pre-made match given her current outrage at the idea.
Sitting on the edge of the bed beside Daenerys, Sansa considered her next words carefully before they tumbled out ungracefully.
"I think that everyone should be able to be with one that they truly love," Sansa said.
Daenerys softened further at her words. Sansa adored that her words were able to further relax the princess. "And I do not love any man that Rhaegar might be planning to wed me to."
"Do you love anyone in that way?" Sansa ventured to ask.
Daenerys turned a bright pink as she averted her eyes from Sansa's. She shrugged. "I do not know for sure."
Sansa suspected the girl knew, and certainly someone specific had come to her mind, but she would not press the topic. Not until Daenerys wished to expose her true emotions. Sansa was curious, not cruel.
"Have you?"
Daenerys's sudden question made Sansa hesitate. She had not known romance before.
Yet…
"I thought I did. My father's dear friend has a son about our age. I thought I loved him."
"But you did not?"
Sansa held in a heavy sigh, not wishing to burden Daenerys with her past bout of yearning. "I suppose I'm unsure as well."
…
As days passed them by in Winterfell, Daenerys seemed to fit into the Starks' lives easier than Sansa had expected. She often schemed with Arya—about what, Sansa didn't know—and read to the young boys when not conversing deeply with the older two. Sansa scarcely left her side that first day until she noted her ease with Sansa's siblings. She backed off to allow Daenerys time to flourish in this new environment. Sansa was glad for it, and Daenerys expressed her gratitude every night when Sansa visited her room before bed.
Jon and Daenerys especially hit it off, after a small hesitation on his part that Sansa could not begin to guess at a reason for. She worried that he might have some ulterior motive or secret of his own that he was not revealing. Sansa supposed she might learn in time, or it was none of her business to worry about.
Today, like many, Daenerys had found herself deep in some political discussion with Robb in the sitting room. Sansa sat on the opposite end of the couch Daenerys was on, listening idly between pages of the book atop her lap.
"Sansa."
She startled out of her silence to see Jon had entered the room. "Yes?"
"Care to join me for a walk around the grounds?"
Sansa and Jon had never taken a walk together before. It seemed strange to ask her now, while she was seemingly occupied, but she didn't protest it. She readily agreed, remembering her desire to know her half-brother more closely. She set the book on a nearby table as she nodded her farewell to her friend and her brother.
Jon was decidedly quieter than usual on their way out of the castle. That was a feat for Jon, as Sansa had never known him to be a man of many words, least of all with her. As soon as they were out of the castle, away from prying siblings or nosy house staff, Jon spoke straight to the point.
"That girl is no Tyrell."
Sansa's steps faltered, an awkward laugh escaping her as she recovered. "What ever do you mean, Jon?"
"I know Margaery's brother," Jon admitted. "Lord Loras attends my school. Apart from her not resembling him in the slightest, I've seen the pictures Loras kept of his family. I know what Margaery Tyrell looks like."
Sansa held her breath through the whole of his explanation, and it escaped her in a frightfully shaky breath. "You must be mistaken. That is the Lady Margaery."
"Your lies may have worked on your mother and our father, but I know too much to be fooled by them." Jon stopped where they'd made it by the edge of the grounds. "I don't tell you this to scare you, Sansa. I want to know the truth. That's all."
Sansa had promised Daenerys to protect her. She knew that Jon wouldn't go tell their father about this without supporting information, but even then she doubted he'd tattle.
"Why?"
"Because I want to know she isn't a danger to you or any of us."
Sansa fiercely shook her head. "She is certainly no danger. Fiery as she may be at times, she is my dear friend. She's simply… She needs our help."
"From what? What has driven a lady to pretend she is another? I can tell she's highborn, if not for her clothes then the way she speaks."
Sansa's heart raced at the thought of them being found out before even a single week of the ruse. But this was Jon. Not father or even Robb who might force Daenerys home. Not Arya, Bran, or Rickon who would blab to anyone about it. Jon was different.
"Can I trust you?" she asked.
"Unless there's a threat to our family having her under our roof, then I will not tell the Duke or Duchess."
Sansa hesitated still. "I cannot promise no outside threat, but the girl herself is not dangerous to us. Just scared."
"Speak plainly," he commanded gently.
"She is Daenerys Targaryen," Sansa rushed out but didn't stop until all of her explanation was out. "The king plans to marry her off, and she will not have it. She ran away for refuge here, just to collect herself and think of a way out of this arrangement. I vowed to protect her secrets and help her out of this if possible. You cannot tell Father, not until we know how to save her."
Jon was silent a moment. Then, he began to walk again. Sansa stayed rooted in place until he turned and motioned for her to follow. Sansa rushed back to his side. They strolled around the edge of the property a little longer before Jon spoke again.
"I will not tell your secrets, but I must admit I find them awfully frivolous compared to the threat of the king finding his sister here."
"This will ruin her life, Jon. Her education will be halted. Her life will be uprooted. She'll never find love!"
Jon chuckled. "Sansa, few in this world marry for love, as unfortunate as that is. It will not ruin her to be married for her brother's gain. Though, I admit I understand mourning the loss of an education and her home."
"She feels it would ruin it, and I'm a good enough friend to agree," she argued.
"A good friend would inform their friends of mistakes. I believe your friend has made one by lying and running from home rather than speaking to her brother about this betrothal. Does she even know who he intends to marry her to?"
Sansa shook her head as she'd never heard Daenerys mention a specific man.
"Perhaps it will not be so bad, or it's even a rumor that proves untrue." Jon led them back towards the doors to the castle. "I'll not tell you to encourage the princess to return home, but I don't believe it wise to lie to our father for long about this."
Sansa sighed. "I know. Thank you for not telling our father."
Jon's lips tugged upwards into a smile. "What kind of brother would that make me if I ran to the parents with everything you entrusted to me?"
Sansa smiled back. "A shit one."
He laughed. "Exactly. You can trust me."
And so, Jon became a careful ally.
…
Daenerys took to Jon knowing the truth of her identity better than Sansa could've expected.
"I knew he suspected me, but I didn't dare ask," she told Sansa that night while they laid side by side atop Sansa's bed.
"You aren't mad that I told him?"
"If he won't expose me, then I think it'd be nice not to hide around another person." Daenerys blew out a breath, almost akin to a laugh mixed with a sigh. "I suppose my hiding was rather bad if your brother found me out without so much as a few conversations."
"And the fact he's the only other one here besides myself that's seen Margaery Tyrell," Sansa reminded her."
"What an unfortunate coincidence. But it's no matter, not if Jon will keep my secret."
"He promised he would, and I'm inclined to believe him." Sansa thought back to the encounter with Jon, and then she remembered what she'd been somewhat engaged in before he pulled her away. "You and Robb seem to be getting on well."
Daenerys turned her head towards Sansa with brows furrowed. "Do you mean to elaborate? Since I'd say I'm getting along with all of your siblings thus far."
Sansa's chest tightened and cheeks burned with embarrassment. "I didn't mean— It's just that you're so upset with not marrying for love—"
"You wish for me to marry your brother instead?" Daenerys asked her with a smirk that gave away her jest.
"I didn't say that!" Sansa sat up. "I was merely asking after the nature of things. Apologies if I've misread them."
Daenerys laughed, turning onto her side as she fully let her laughter loose. Sansa found herself smiling then descending into laughter with her. They had only began to catch their breath when a knock at her door silenced them fully.
"Yes?" Sansa called.
Her mother peeked through the door as she cracked it open. Sansa's stomach swooped in shame, as if caught doing something wrong as a child.
"It is late. I think it best Lady Margaery retired to her own room," her mother said.
Daenerys was off the bed at once, straightening her clothes and smoothing her hair from laying. "Sorry, ma'am, I was just on my way."
Sansa's mother looked doubtful, yet she nodded and stepped aside for Daenerys to leave the room. Daenerys threw a final smile and small wave Sansa's way as she left. Sansa warmed. Her mother eyed her strangely for a moment before wishing her a good night. Sansa wondered what her mother had saw—that Sansa hadn't—that caused her look such a way.
…
"He's not my type," Daenerys said to Sansa as they strolled the edge of the property the next day.
"Who isn't?"
"Your brother. Robb isn't my type."
Sansa kept her eyes forward as they walked, pretending some deep part of her cared a little more than was proper at the answer to her next question: "What is your type, then?"
Daenerys hummed. Their arms were looped together, and Daenerys's thumb had been absently rubbing circles on Sansa's arm for a while now. The hyper-vigilant way Sansa focused on the motion paired with her thudding heart awaiting the answer to Daenerys's type in romantic partners made Sansa feel like she had years ago with Joffrey. She'd been hung up on his every word, every interest, every move. Until he'd unfortunately ruined her view of him. Daenerys was different though. A girl, for one, and also her dear friend whereas Joffrey was merely the son of her father's friend. It was normal to ask these questions of a friend, especially a fellow girl. Maybe Sansa's sudden nerves about the answer were due to her own lack of an answer if the question were turned upon her. That was surely all it was.
Sansa didn't know her type. Did she even have one? Whom would she like to marry someday?
"I suppose I prefer the softer type," Daenerys finally answered.
"Like Jon?" Sansa attempted to tease.
Daenerys shot Sansa a look. "No, not quite like Jon. Though he is quite pretty, for a boy."
"Don't speak of my brother that way."
"Says the one who just last night asked if I might be interested in marrying a different brother."
Sansa had no good defense for that. She simply giggled with Daenerys as they wandered. It felt good to have a friend in Winterfell aside from all her many siblings. She loved her family, of course, but the sudden visit from Daenerys had been more welcome than she could say. It was as if Sansa had a piece of boarding school with her so many miles north of King's Landing. One of the best pieces if she were being truthful. Margaery had become a dear friend in her time spent learning alongside her as well, but something about Daenerys was different.
Perhaps it was that Sansa didn't like her at first; this was a truth she'd never admitted to a soul. Daenerys was more than simply the princess to Sansa, but a rival. She was pretty, popular, and quick-witted. Sansa wanted to be her as much as she wished to surpass her in those first months. Once she realized it was all one-sided and how good Daenerys was at her core, it all faded from mind. She recalled the first time that Daenerys made her laugh, how Sansa had been shocked at the sound coming from her own mouth. And then, how none of the imagined rivalry ever mattered again.
She couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face at the memories. Daenerys, observant as ever, noticed and asked after the cause of her smile.
"I'm remembering my first impression of you," Sansa admitted.
"Which was what?"
Sansa chewed her lip as she debated how to frame her unfair dislike of the girl she now lied for. Daenerys tugged at her arm in impatience.
"I viewed you as a rival, to be honest."
Daenerys stared at her for a moment before watching her steps again with a laugh. "Why ever would you do that? Did I provoke this?"
Sansa shook her head. "I simply felt out of my element so far south, despite being excited for school. You were so at ease there, so successful, and I envied you in truth. I know it wasn't very fair of me."
"I presume this is no longer how you view me?"
"Not at all. Once I got to know you, I realized my pride had clouded my view of such a wonderful person."
Daenerys was quiet a moment. Sansa looked over and noted a faint blush dusting pink over Daenerys's cheekbones. She had only given a small compliment where she could have raved on about the princess now that she knew her. Sansa respected Daenerys so much and held her in the highest regard. No more jealousy coloring over the truth of how amazing Daenerys was. Sansa couldn't imagine that Daenerys was a stranger to compliments, and yet she'd blushed at Sansa's small honest one. It made Sansa's stomach feel full of fluttering butterflies, but she could not name the reason for her own reaction nor her friend's.
They shifted the conversation to some of the happenings in Winterfell. Daenerys seemed to gravitate towards the doors, so Sansa led them back inside to conclude their somewhat peaceful walk. Sansa left Daenerys to her own devices for the day with that same fluttering in her gut and tightness in her chest, but she had not a clue what to name her own emotions for once.
It felt dangerously familiar to her, as she'd realized then dismissed earlier. She didn't know what to do, who to seek out for advice, or if it was worth attention at all.
…
In the following days, Sansa attempted to write in her diary after her nightly visits with Daenerys and before she gave into sleep. She documented her days and the emotions that came along with each event. She needed to make sense of things, but the further she dove inside, the further she felt from gaining an understanding of it all. Daenerys had quickly become different than all of her other friends. Different from Jeyne, Margaery, or any of the other girls at school. Daenerys was more than the princess, more than a simple friend from school, and she caused Sansa to feel more than any feeling she had ever felt before.
It felt akin to Joffrey with a lighter air around the emotion.
Less like Sansa was forcing it.
Less like Sansa awaited for the curtain to fall and reveal some unfortunate truth.
More like what Sansa had always imagined a crush must feel like.
It didn't make sense. Daenerys was a girl, and a royal one at that. Sansa stood no chance. It wasn't fair to force her emotions onto her friend, especially given her circumstances. Therefore, Sansa decidedly kept these realizations to herself as they came to her slowly during nighttime journaling. Daenerys deserved a better friend than someone who pined after her during her lowest moment. Sansa would be better for Daenerys.
That was until that night, Daenerys and Sansa shared the latter's bed during their late chats before retiring for the night. They laid with shoulders touching as they each stared up at the ceiling of Sansa's bedroom. They'd been chatting aimlessly, but finally had landed on the fact that Daenerys was likely running out of time to form a plan.
"I don't wish to return to King's Landing yet, especially not the Red Keep. My brothers are suffocating. I love them dearly but loathe their expectations of me," Daenerys admitted softly.
"Do you not feel so suffocated here?" Sansa asked. She hoped that her home was peaceful for Daenerys, as chaotic as her younger siblings could often be.
"Not at all. In all honesty, I prefer your family to mine presently."
Sansa hummed. "They are all wonderful in their own ways."
"I see why you're all so close. I long for that with my own family."
Daenerys sounded so small, so sad, so lonely. Sansa turned on her side to face the other girl. Daenerys's eyes stayed aimed at the ceiling. Sansa gently tilted her face towards her with one hand. Daenerys allowed her head to be moved easily. Her eyes were watery as they met Sansa's and full of mixed emotions that Sansa couldn't begin to name.
"I wish that I could offer you a place here. That I could ease some of the longing."
"I could marry a Stark," Daenerys said, weakly joking despite both of them knowing full well that she was uninterested in both Jon and Robb.
"And which Stark might that be? Not Robb nor Jon, surely. Who does that leave you with?" Sansa asked to remind her of the conversation they'd shared on their walk days prior.
Daenerys smiled. "You, of course."
Sansa felt her heart slamming against her rib cage in earnest, begging to be let into the light for Daenerys to see how it longed for that. Oh, how Sansa wished that Daenerys were being truthful or even somewhat sane. They could never marry as two girls, for one, but there was also the fact of Daenerys's lack of reciprocity for Sansa's feelings.
"You would not marry me," Sansa murmured, dropping her hand back onto the mattress between them.
Daenerys leaned up on one arm to look down at Sansa. "Why not? You are quite beautiful."
Sansa felt her face warm. "Stop."
"Why should I? You're clever and kind and prettier than anyone I've ever seen. I'd be lucky to call you my wife."
My wife.
The words sang through Sansa's ears like the most loveliest of songs.
They were in jest, surely. Daenerys was making some elaborate joke at Sansa's expense, even if she didn't know the full effects of such humor on Sansa.
"Don't joke. Not about this," Sansa said with a more stern tone.
Daenerys furrowed her brow and tilted her head much like a confused dog might. "Why do you believe me to be joking?"
"Because we cannot, Daenerys. And besides, I can be all those things without you wanting to marry me. Jon is most of them."
"I do not wish to marry Jon."
Daenerys looked so serious as she said it, as if her wish was truly for Sansa's hand. Sansa's heart traitorously pounded loud enough that she feared it must be vibrating the bed beneath them as it thrummed throughout her entire body.
"But me?" Sansa couldn't help but ask the question, as self-serving as it was. If Daenerys were honest in not wanting her, then it would crush Sansa. If Daenerys lied—
"Sansa, are you so oblivious you have not noticed my true intentions?"
"What?"
Daenerys leaned closer until Sansa could feel her breath.
"I've always favored both ladies and lords. In my time here, and perhaps a bit before, I've realized I also very much favor you."
Sansa felt frozen staring up at Daenerys. "You— you favor me?"
"How could anyone not?" Daenerys grinned as she said this, sending delighted shocks up Sansa's spine.
"Is now a good time to admit I feel as though I've fallen for you in your time here?"
Daenerys let out a breath. "Perfect timing, as I was just beginning to worry you didn't return my feelings."
"How could I not?" Sansa repeated back Daenerys's sentiment to her.
Daenerys studied Sansa's face a long moment, a smile filling her cheeks. Sansa's own cheeks ached from the smile on her own face.
"May I kiss you?" Daenerys asked Sansa.
Sansa had never been kissed before, but she knew she'd very much like to in that moment.
"I'd like that."
Daenerys kissed her soft and gentle. Sansa melted into the bed beneath her. The warm press of Daenerys's lips against hers struck Sansa as such a different feeling from every other physical touch she'd experienced. It was more intimate, for sure, but also so all-consuming. Sansa could focus on nothing but the slow movements of Daenerys's lips upon her own. Sansa clumsily attempted to match her movements. Having no frame of reference for a good kiss, she could only hope she was doing alright. Daenerys was making her head spin, and she wished to have such an effect of the other girl.
When Daenerys pulled back, her cheeks were darkened by her blush. Sansa feared her own to be no lighter.
"Was that okay?" Sansa asked.
"I'd very much like to do it again, if that pleases you," Daenerys replied.
"It would please me."
Daenerys sat up suddenly, casting a glance towards the darkness outside of Sansa's window.
"I must retire for the night, lest your mother catch us in a compromising position."
Sansa agreed. They both got up to say good night with fierce blushes and wide smiles. Daenerys then rushed off to her own room. Sansa could still feel the ghost of her on her mouth.
…
Having kissed Daenerys once, Sansa longed to always kiss her. She never wished to stop. In the next couple of days, Sansa and Daenerys took every opportunity to steal away for kissing. They kissed in alcoves and empty rooms. They kissed outside hidden away on their walks. The best was still kissing in Sansa's room before bed. There, it was as if the world outside did not exist. Time stopped. They were utterly isolated with each other.
Sansa couldn't imagine never doing this again.
Lucky for her, Daenerys seemed to have no intention of ceasing to kiss her at any chance she got. She assured Sansa that they could continue this semi-courting at school, though her promises only served to remind Sansa of why she was in Winterfell at all. If Daenerys was married off to a man, then she would not be at school and they couldn't continue what was budding between them now.
Sansa kissed Daenerys fully, leaving her breathless whenever possible in case it would be the last. The clumsy nature of their first shedding away once both gained confidence in the act. Sansa had learned that Daenerys had played kissing games with some of her friends growing up, but she admitted none were quite like kissing Sansa. Knowing she wasn't the princess's first kiss didn't bother Sansa, not when she had been constantly reminded that she was the most important and the best in many ways.
If anyone suspected them, then they never confronted either of them. Jon was certainly suspicious, but he did not pry. For this, Sansa was grateful. Having never truly lied before in her life, it felt good keeping a couple secrets from her family. Just for her and Daenerys. It thrilled her in a way.
But of course, it could not go on forever.
On her way to sit with her siblings and Daenerys and discuss whatever their hearts pleased for the afternoon, her father intercepted her in the halls.
"Sansa, a word?"
She nodded and followed her father to his study, all the while her heart stuttered in her chest. Something was amiss. Perhaps he'd plotted to marry Sansa off the very same as the king had for Daenerys. After realizing her feelings for Daenerys, the thought terrified her more than the prospect would have before she'd stolen kisses with her friend.
When they entered his study, Daenerys was already sitting in one of the chairs. That's when new fears overtook ones of marriage plans. Either he knew of their kissing, or worse, he knew their bigger secret. Sansa sat beside Daenerys as her father leaned back on his desk to face the two of them. He took in a deep breath, seeming to steady himself before his words.
"Do either of you care to tell me the truth before I reveal my own thoughts?" he asked.
Sansa and Daenerys shared a look. Daenerys looked shaken, frightened even, and Sansa wanted nothing but to throw herself in front of the fire for her.
"It was my idea," Sansa said quickly.
Daenerys jolted a little in her seat, clearly not expecting Sansa to take all of the blame.
"What exactly was your idea?" the Duke asked her.
Sansa looked at her hands in her lap. "The secret I'm sure you have uncovered."
Her father heaved a sigh, then he turned to Daenerys. "I will need the whole of the truth. From both of you, but especially you, my princess." He paused, letting the title sit heavy in the room, revealing what he knew. "Why are you in Winterfell pretending to be another?"
Sansa's hand shook, so she clasped them together to ground herself. Daenerys sat up straighter, seeming to want to meet this without fear. Sansa wished she felt the same confidence in the face of her own father presently. She knew Ned Stark not to be a cruel man, but he was one of honor. He couldn't react happily to his daughter lying to him to conceal a princess of all things. Especially having it all happen under his roof.
"My brother, King Rhaegar, wishes for me to abandon school in order to marry some duke or lord he's chosen for me. I refuse. I needed time to decide how to escape this fate, and I trusted Sansa to aid me. Well, I'd hoped she would, I suppose I didn't know for certain when I came here."
"Are you certain of your brother's plans?" Sansa's father asked.
Daenerys frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Over these weeks, I've doubted your identity as a Tyrell. Then, before I could write to the Duke of Highgarden, I received a letter from our king, as he sent them to many men with daughters who attended your boarding school. He wrote requesting information on your whereabouts after your sudden disappearance, insisting on knowing you were safe before your return home." Daenerys seemed so still from where Sansa sat. She wouldn't be surprised if she were holding her breath. "I wrote to him, telling him that a supposed Margaery Tyrell had arrived in Winterfell, but I'd had no sign of the princess. He replied to inform me that Margaery had returned to King's Landing early before school, and he questioned if you might not be who you claimed to be."
"If I return home, I will be sent away." Daenerys's voice broke on the last part. Sansa ached to hold her.
"Why don't we discuss this with your brother, the king?"
"You intend to send me back anyway?"
"He is already on his way to Winterfell, I must confess. I received his letter this morning. I will explain myself to the king, lest he accuse me of kidnapping you or even simply knowing of your lies sooner than now. I must clear the Starks' name." He knelt down in front of Daenerys. "However, as much as I value education for even girls such as you two, I will not be opposed to speaking to him about postponing any potential marriage he has planned for you. Would you like me to?"
"Please," Daenerys said softly.
Sansa's father rose. "Then it is settled. He is set to arrive in a day's time. I suggest you seek out the others to apologize for the deceit, even if it did not cause them harm. It would be less hurtful for my family to hear the truth from you."
He motioned for them to leave, so Sansa went to Daenerys quickly to help her rise. Once they reached the door, her father called for them to wait. Both girls turned towards the duke.
"Thank you, my princess, for being such good company for my daughter in these weeks. It's been an honor warding you to be alongside her."
Daenerys smiled even if it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thank you for letting me stay here with your lovely family."
…
When the king arrived, the Starks met him as a united front outside the doors to Winterfell. Even still, his eyes searched for a certain blonde. Daenerys had washed the dye from her hair since coming clean to the other Starks about her identity. Sansa almost didn't recognize her at first, but she was still her Daenerys. Now, she just looked as she did at school, before their romance began. King Rhaegar went to her immediately, checking her over for injuries or anything otherwise amiss.
He and Sansa's father went inside to discuss what Sansa hoped would be Daenerys and her future education. Daenerys went to gather her things for the servants the king had brought along to load into the carriage. Sansa sat on the bed as the last bag was removed from the guest room. Daenerys had her eyes trained down to the floor. Sansa rushed to her side the moment the last servant disappeared out the door. Daenerys sniffled. Sansa wrapped her in her arms.
"My father will vouch for your return to school," Sansa assured her.
"What if Rhaegar doesn't listen?"
"Then we'll run away together."
Daenerys snapped her eyes up to Sansa's. They both laughed a little at the absurdity.
"I think I'm through with running away," Daenerys admitted.
"I don't think I'm fit to turn beggar anyway," Sansa agreed.
They held each other a while. It was comforting to simply have Daenerys close before she was ripped away from her, possibly forever. They jumped apart when a Stark house staff came calling for them. Sansa mourned that they did not get one last kiss before her departure.
Sansa's father and the king met them by the carriages outside. King Rhaegar looked every bit as regal as Sansa had expected of him. He intimidated her as much as he intrigued her. She wished she could know Daenerys's family as she did Sansa's.
"Whatever is this nonsense about me taking you out of school?" the king asked Daenerys.
She stopped, confusion coloring her features. "I heard from Viserys—"
"Our brother is a meddling fool, as you well know. I have no intent of betrothing you to anyone before you've finished your education."
"You mean there are no marriage plans?"
"My council asked after marrying you off, but I denied them to speak of it yet. No, there are no plans that I have made. Mine are the only ones that matter, as my council doesn't have my leave to make any."
"So I can return to school?" Daenerys sounded so hopeful, so happy. It warmed Sansa's heart.
"I insist that you do, but only if it doesn't result in your disappearance again."
Daenerys enveloped her brother in a hug. When she dropped back down to the flats of her feet, she said, "I promise I will never run away again, so long as I can pick whom I'm married off to."
The king rolled his eyes. "How can I deny my little sister a thing?"
Sansa shared a teary goodbye with Daenerys after her conversation with her brother. Sansa watched the royal carriages roll away from Winterfell with pangs in her chest. She had to remember that she'd see Daenerys again soon when they returned to boarding school. Their summer of secrets might be over, but whatever flowered between them was not.
Sansa had hope.