28. I'm not putting ships because I want you to write what you feel in your heart
That’s the first thing Daenerys thinks when she sees Sansa Stark’s eye. Blue and beautiful, to be sure, but they are like ice.
She does not like me already.
That’s alright. Lots of people don’t like Daenerys before they meet her, and many of those people don’t like her even after they have gotten to know her. She isn’t here to be liked. She is here to rule, and at this moment, to save the North.
Sansa Stark’s iciness does not melt, no matter how kind Daenerys is to her. The Lady of Winterfell is as cold and unyielding as the rest of the North, and Daenerys decides she will be glad to put this horrible, miserable place and its horrible, miserable lady behind her.
The Battle for Winterfell nearly destroys them. Thousands of men die, and Daenerys weeps for them all, but none more so than Ser Jorah. He was her oldest friend, her most trusted adviser, her Sworn Shield.
There is a feast after they burn the bodies, to celebrate their victory...but it is a hollow victory. Daenerys excuses herself as soon as it is polite to do so, preferring the solace of her chamber to the din in the hall.
She never makes it to her chamber, because in the turret stairs she finds Sansa Stark standing at the window, watching the pyres burn. When she turns to regard the intruder, Daenerys sees tears streaming from her eyes.
The ice is melting, she thinks bizarrely.
And then something even more bizarre happens; Sansa Starks throws her arms around Daenerys, burying her face in her shoulder as she sobs.
She lost someone she loved, too, Daenerys remembers, putting her arms around the other woman. Tears fall from her own eyes. Maybe this won’t change anything, and in the morning, maybe Sansa Stark will still hate her...but for now, it feels good to hold and be held.