just a little angst cause why not :')
She stops in her tracks, the frigid air like a slap in the face; it steals the breath from her lungs and for a single moment she’s plunged into a memory she swore she’d someday forget. There on the battlements, she looks out over the courtyard, ever busy from their many preparations for the war that was soon to come. In this place there wasn’t a single person working hard to ensure their survival.
Well, save for maybe one.
As if conjured by her thoughts, a dragon goes screeching by overhead, belching flames as he streaks through the sky. No one flinches, she notices, for her people have already grown quite used to their presence. Such a thought fills her with dread. There isn’t a single thing about the dragon queen she liked, not a single thing she said that she believed. Sansa has dealt with people like her before, even if Jon has not. She can see right through the facade that was Daenerys Targaryen, even if Jon cannot. In truth, it isn’t as if she can blame him for falling for her, she was easy to believe when you only thought with what grew between your legs. The dragon queen was an ethereal sort of creature, like the silver light of the moon in the night sky, her violet eyes strange yet beautiful. But for all her beauty, she was cold and stubborn, twisted and dark. Sansa knows they cannot fight the Night King without her firepower, but it does not stop her from wishing her away every single night.
“Sansa…?”
She shifts, blue eyes falling upon the man she’s only just been thinking of, surprised to see him there. “Jon,” she greets, holding her head just a little higher, a little straighter, peering back at him with what she hopes to be a mild sort of expression (he notes, to himself of course, that she’s frowning in a way that sends shivers down his spine.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he says next, taking another step closer, so close now that she could reach for him with little effort. “You missed supper.”
And he knows exactly why.
“I wasn’t hungry,” she says, not really a lie- sitting in the same room as the dragon queen made her sick. “And I had work to attend to.” Also, not really a lie, considering the dragons had demolished a flock of sheep just yesterday and she was arranging compensation for the family. “I’m certain I wasn’t missed,” she adds with a little more venom than she intends. It hits all the same.
Jon winces as if she’s struck him, sighing softly. He knows he’s the reason for her anger and there is a part of him that wants only to tell her the truth, to come clean with every last detail. But then again… He knows she would be safer this way. Should things go badly in the end, at least she would be spared for his folly. Now if only he could spare her for hers- something tells him that she would fall victim to Daenerys’ wrath on her own if she wasn’t careful. All the more reason for him to do as he was. “Your lords missed you,” he says instead of any other thing he might, watching as her face changes, the slightest flicker of disappointment crossing her features. It’s gone as quickly as it came, leaving him to wonder if he’d only just imagined it. “And you must eat, it won’t do anyone any good if you fall ill, Sansa. Your people need you strong for the days ahead-”
“Spare me the lecture,” she cuts him off, rolling her blue eyes, turning away so he cannot see the tears gathering in her eyes. Why, why, why… They stand there in silence for what feels like a lifetime, neither one able to give in, until finally she hears the distinct sound of his retreating footsteps.
He’s walking away and she just can’t fault him for that.
She wonders just how long it would be until they got back what they once had, if they even ever could. She wonders if he’d even want back what they once had. And she wonders why she’s so desperate to have it at all. What she and Jon had before… Even she knew it was not the same thing that other siblings had, half blood or not. There was something different between them. Something stronger than she’d ever felt before, something that felt more real than anything else ever had. But now it was gone and she supposes that was of her own doing. She was the jealous one, for all of Daenerys’ faults, in the end, in the deepest depths of her soul, Sansa knows that she hates her out of jealousy. She was jealous of her beauty and her pretty violet eyes and most of all, she was jealous of the love Jon held for her. Love she once thought might have been hers, was someone else’s and she hates herself for the way that hurts. She hates herself for ever thinking it could be hers in the first place.
A tear streaks her cheek, and she wipes it away, sucking in a breath, squaring her shoulders against the weight of it all. She tells herself all would be well, over and over again until finally, even she begins to believe the lie.
