Super stoked to share this beautiful commission of my characters created by the incredible @polar-biscuit!!
IT'S A LOVE/SKATE RELATIONSHIP (HarperTeen, Winter 2025)
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Hockey star Charlie Porter has one shot to make her dreams come true -- literally. One goal is all that stands between her and the coveted Winthrop Cup, along with a life-changing hockey scholarship that could catapult her into the big leagues. But when Charlie misses her shot -- and inadvertently starts a good ol’ fashioned brawl between rival schools -- she waves goodbye to more than just the championship title. She gets kicked off her team, suspended from school, and banished to the Worst Place on Earth: Winthrop High. Things for Charlie cannot get any worse.
Until she meets Alexa Goldstein. A prickly, perfectionist ice princess with her sights set on the Olympics, Alexa is the last person Charlie would ever want to share a rink with -- no matter how good she looks in her figure skating leotard. But when Alexa’s skating partner breaks his ankle and torpedoes her chances for a gold medal career, the two unlikely allies -- along with Alexa’s terrifying, ex-Olympian mother -- strike a deal: Charlie will practice with Alexa until her partner heals, and Alexa’s mother will use her connections to get Charlie back in her hockey uniform.
But as the ice between Charlie and Alexa begins to melt, their partnership only gets more complicated. Charlie’s falling hard -- and not just when she’s trying to land a double Axel. What happens when making Alexa’s skating dreams come true means giving up her own?
There was something peaceful about prefect’s bathroom.It was massive with stone pillars squeezed inside the room. The water steamedto the perfect temperature. Multi-colored bubbles floated around the middle ofthe miniature pool that was supposed to be a bath tub.
Shedidn’t remember stripping herself or getting in the tub, yet Margaery foundherself in the midst of all the bubbles. She knew the water should bepractically burning her skin, but she couldn’t feel it.
Herhouse robes lay in a pile at the far corner of the bathroom. As Slytherin’sQuidditch captain, she took liberties to grant herself access to the prefectbathroom. It helped that her best friend happened to be the Slytherin prefectand gave her the password to get in whenever she needed space to relax.
Exceptshe wasn’t alone. Along the corner down the wall from Margaery’s clothes layanother pile of robes. Red and gold.
Waterrippled around her waist seconds before two arms wrapped around her frombehind. They clasped together and pulled Margaery back gently. Two lips pressedagainst her neck. She relaxed her shoulders, allowing herself to revel in thesensations her lover was creating.
Thekiss moved up to just below her jaw. She could see the red hair now even as shetilted her head more to the side to give better access.
“Mypoor baby. Look what that mean ole hypogriff did to your arm,” Sansa hummedagainst her shoulder. Margaery glanced down at her arm again. Something in theback of her head told her she should be in pain, but she wasn’t. The long, thingash on the inside of her arm confirmed that much.
“I’vehad worse on the quidditch pitch,” Margaery shook off the comment. She turnedaround to face her girlfriend. She placed her hands on both of Sansa’sshoulders. “Hell, I had worse falling off a bike when I was six.”
Therewas something different about Sansa. She was obviously the same person, but shelooked…wiser? Her eyes looked deeper, her smile less innocent.
Sansachuckled, her fingers rubbed up Margaery’s spine. “You’ll have to show me allthese muggle contraptions when I come to High Garden this summer.”
“Imight be pre-occupied.So much to do, so little time,” one of her hands driftedlower, outlining Sansa’s silhouette until it rested on her hip. Margaery leanedin, but stopped inches away from kissing Sansa. “Of course, all I really wantto do is you. Over. And over. And over.”
Shewhispered the words in Sansa’s ear. She kissed her just below the ear andrelished in the way Sansa tightened her hold.
Sansatugged her head to the side. Her kiss was raw and passionate. So different fromthe way Sansa usually was. Her hand slipped down to grasp Margaery’s thigh. Atthe same time Margaery slipped her tongue into Sansa’s mouth, Sansa picked herup by her thighs.
Tosecure her hold around Sansa, Marge wrapped her arms around her neck.
Thiswas a side of her girlfriend she rarely saw. But gods did she love it whenSansa was like this. Less reserved, less “lady-like” as Sansa would call it.
Theirlips moved together in perfect rhythm. Their noses bumped and brushed againsteach other. Margaery brought her hand up to Sansa’s cheek to better guide thepace as Sansa waded them through the water.
Whenthey reached the edge of the pool-sized tub, Sansa lifted Margaery higher toset her down on the edge of the smooth stone. Her lips left Margaery’s only topress against her boob. Margaery threaded her fingers through damp hair,holding her head against her chest as she lavished it in kisses. She rewrappedher legs around Sansa. Sansa rewarded her by wrapping her tongue aroundMargaery’s nipple.
Margaery’sgrip tightened as she threw her head back. She was hyperaware of the waterdroplets slithering down her body, of Sansa’s fingers dancing up her thighs, ofthe heat building between her legs.
Afterlavishing both tits, Sansa continued her descent. “What do you think they wouldsay if they knew I make the great captain of Slytherin’s quidditch team moanlouder than Myrtle,” Sansa licked a stripe up Margaery’s abdomen.
Margaeryinvoluntarily convulsed in response. “What lucky little wolf,” Margaery joked.Sansa nipped at her thigh, though there wasn’t a real sting.
Shemuttered something else, but Margaery couldn’t hear. In fact all she heard wasthe sound of rushing water. Suddenly she slipped, fully under water.
Sherose out of the water with a violent gasp. Margaery wiped the water from hereyes, coughing up water that had gone up through her nose.
Therewas a knock on the other side of the bathroom door. “Margaery, are you alright?I heard something fall.”
“I’malright. I just…slipped,” Margaery excused the moment. It wouldn’t do to tellSansa she fell asleep in the tub. Her fiancé was already on her case aboutspending too many late nights working on cases for at the Ministry of Magic. Thiswould only add fuel to Sansa’s flames.
Severalof her dreams lately had been strangely vivid. However they usually weren’t sosexual and definitely didn’t occur at Hogwarts.
“Okay…wellhurry up in there. I told Missandei we’d have Arabella over in twenty minutes,”Sansa reminded her.
“Okaysweetheart,” Margaery called.
Shegrabbed her wand from the ledge of the tub. With a flick of her wrist, thewater drained, with another she was dried off.
When they’dattended Hogwarts together, Margaery and Sansa had never actually used the prefect’stub together. For the life of her, Margaery didn’t know why. Perhaps one daythey could amend the past.
The blistering heat of summer at Camp Wight gave wayto beautifully cool evenings. Half the campers avoided venturing outside duringthe afternoon hours. The other half, the ones Sansa never understood (like hersister and younger brothers), spent all day in the sun. By the time theyreturned for dinner, their clothes were drenched with sweat and they smelledworse than the boy’s latrine on the far side of the camp.
Atnight though, Sansa couldn’t resist the pull of the outdoors. She loved thelake. The water was pristine, clear blue. The bugs disappeared. While most ofher cabin mates feared the wolf howls and hooting owls, Sansa found comfort inthem. Camp Wight was two different places between night and day.
Tonightwas her last night as a camper at Camp Wight. Next year she’d be sixteen—tooold to attend the camp. Unlike her older brother, she had no intentions ofcoming back to be a counselor. She detested the thought of having to man the climbingwall, lead hiking trips or manage her sister. The risk wasn’t worth coming backfor.
Allher friends at camp lived close to her home anyway. Heck, Jeyne was practicallya roommate. She had her own place to sit at the Stark table (the same one Theonseemed to occupy whenever Jeyne wasn’t there).
Well…thatwasn’t quite true. One friend didn’t live close at all.
“Isthe water too cold?” Margaery Tyrell stood right in front of her, big loopygrin on her face. Her hair was dripping with water, as was her t-shirt. She’dled the troupe of campers who’d wanted a late night swim in the Thenn Lake.Sansa was one of the few who’d stayed behind by the bon fire.
Sansasnorted. “If you think that water is cold, come back during the winter.”
Margaerysat down next to Sansa. Dirt and sand clung to legs. She bent her knees andwrapped her arms around them loosely. “I wish I could. I bet the lake freezesover by December. And the snow…You know, I can count the number of times it’ssnowed at High Garden on one hand and each time was barely enough to bemeasured.”
“Usuallyit freezes by the end of November,” Sansa said.
She’dfirst met Margaery years ago when Margaery was a camper. She came to camp everyyear until Sansa turned ten. She didn’t show up again until last year. Juniorcounselors like Margaery and Robb could begin when they were sixteen.
Whenshe was younger, Sansa had admired Margaery. Charm and grace exuded themselvesaround her. It was like Margaery had an aura that just drew people to her.
Atseventeen, Margaery was still charming and graceful. She’d always beenintelligent. Every time Sansa was around her though, she felt butterflies inher stomach. There was an urge to laugh at everything Margaery said, even if itwasn’t really funny. It was becoming increasingly difficult to not stare ather. Margaery was drop dead gorgeous and it just wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fairthat her big brown eyes could look so cute one moment, then sultry the next. Itwasn’t fair that she could eat all the junk food in the camp and work it alloff barely breaking a sweat.
Itwasn’t fair that Sansa was in love for the first time and tomorrow it wouldn’tmatter. She wanted it to matter. Even if Margaery wouldn’t feel the same. Butshe also didn’t want any potential friendship carried out through social mediaand letters tarnished by a silly crush.
Margaerynudged Sansa with her shoulder, “Hey, why do you look so glum? You should beliving up your last night of camp.”
“Ijust think I’m going to miss this place. And the people,” Sansa admitted.
“Youcan always come back. Being a junior counselor isn’t so bad,” Margaery said.
“Areyou coming back?” Sansa asked.
Margaerygazed over the lake. After a moment of contemplation she said, “No. I’ll haveto prepare for college next summer. I wish I could though.” Margaery smiled atSansa, “There’s so much I love about this place. You’re one of the reasons I cameback this year.”
“Iam?” Sansa sat up straighter.
Margaerynodded. “You’ve always been a good friend to me Sansa. My mom wanted me to geta different part time job for the summer, but,” Margaery bit her lip, deciding whatto tell Sansa, “I wanted to see you again. Occasional texts just aren’t thesame.”
Sansaslipped her hand into Margaery’s. “Actually, you’re the main reason I waslooking forward to coming this year.”
Margaery’ssmile widened, drawing a smile from Sansa. She squeezed her hand. “Do you wantto, maybe, see if the Canteen shop is still open. My treat for ice cream?”
Sansanodded and chortled, “I’d love to.”
Shelet Margaery help her and followed her hand in hand back to the main camp.
Sansa double checked the bathroom cabinets to make sure they had grabbed all their belongings before heading on the road again. In their haste to leave the previous hotels, they’d forgotten shirts, a phone charger, Margaery’s expensive gold necklace among other items. Seeing as they were trying to play keep away with the royal family’s private security team, they were leaving an obvious trail to let the team assigned to Margaery follow their path.
So Sansa had made sure to wake up extra early so they could make sure they had everything and get on the road in time.
Sure that nothing valuable was left, Sansa returned the room key to the hotel manager, and slipped in some extra cash in the hopes that it would encourage the manager to remain a little more tight lipped if any burly body guards came snooping.
When Sansa made it to the car, she packed her last bag in the backseat and took the driver’s seat. Margaery had been driving most of the way, but Sansa insisted on driving this morning. Clearly, Margaery needed the break. In the passenger seat, her head was tilted to the side, eyes shut and she was almost snoring.
Sansa shook her head to herself and began driving. The trip had been spontaneous. Margaery was supposed to spend the week in Winterfell, meeting with local politicians. She was the Starks’ honored guest, seeing as she and Margaery had been best friends for years. She hadn’t yet told her parents that they were dating. Everything was so new with Margaery and neither were ready for the scrutiny that came with a royal romance.
The first day had gone according to the royal agenda: small talk with local politicians and a charity event with the orphans of Winterfell.
So did the next day, but in the evening, Sansa had convinced Margaery to go skiing with her. Margaery wasn’t the worst skier, that title still belonged to Sansa’s uncle Edmure. Still, Margaery took her fair share of tumbles down the snow banks and by the time they returned to the Stark manor, Margaery was a shivering mess of snow covered clothes.
The two of them quickly changed into dry, warm clothes and snuggled together in the living room under pile blankets. Sansa had placed a kettle of tea on the stove. With her parents out for the evening and her siblings off doing their own things, she doubted she would have another opportunity to spoil herself with Margaery’s presence like this.
“Not your typical Tuesday night, yeah?” Sansa teased.
Margaery sat up a little. “What do you mean?”
Sansa shrugged. “Nothing. Just that Winterfell isn’t party city like King’s Landing.”
Margaery rolled her eyes and settled back against Sansa. “I haven’t been a party girl since I was 20.”
“Not according to last week’s issue of The Explorer,” Sansa thought back to the cover of the magazine she saw in the market where Margaery was giggling with some friends, carrying her heels in her hand. Underneath, in bold white letters, the headline read “Royal Rebel at it again.”
“That’s a load of rubbish and you know it. Excuse me for not wanting to walk back to the cab in 6 inch heels after wearing them for four hours,” Margaery grumbled. Sansa stroked her hair, eliciting a sigh from her girlfriend. “I have one year of wild fun and suddenly I’m the harlot of the royal family, yet Loras goes out on town weekly with Renly and he’s never graced the cover of tabloid for his antics.”
“I know baby,” Sansa mutters. “To be fair, you do milk it sometimes. Like that time you did nothing to quell the rumors about you and Arthur Dayne’s son after the red carpet slip up.”
“Well, I’m tired of it. That’s not who I want to be known as anymore,” Margaery sat up again. This time Sansa followed her action.
“What do you want to be?” she asked.
Margaery was staring at her. Then gradually her lips curved into a sweet smile, seducing one from Sansa. Just like their relationship, Sansa found herself moving forward without having realized she was moving at all until Margaery’s lips gently pressed against her own.
Kissing Margaery felt as natural as the next breath, but as new as the first. Impossible to describe and impossible to continue without. Her arms wrapped around Margaery’s shoulders, where they belonged. At the caress of Margaery’s palm against her jaw, her eyes fluttered close. She dipped her head downward and then pushed forward to deepen the kiss, her lips catching hold of Margaery’s bottom lip.
Nose brushing against Margaery’s, intoxicated with the scent of cinnamon and tea, Sansa didn’t notice the clicking of a camera shutter. But Margaery did. Immediately, Margaery jerked away. “Hey!” she shouted at the entrance to the room. Sansa looked in that direction and jumped up to chase the two photographers that had managed to trespass into the house and sneak past Jory, the security guard.
The men spared a second to glance at each other before splitting off in opposite directions. Sansa followed the one to that took off down the hall to the right, past the massive grandfather clock her uncle Brandon had splurged on as a gift for her father. “Get back here, creep!” Sansa yelled. The man slipped, nearly dropping his camera as he turned the corner. Sansa slowed a bit, knowing that the floor down that hall had been polished just the day before, and that it led to a dead end closet and the guest bedroom.
A crash and the sound of glass breaking lets her know the floor has done the job. Sansa casually walks up to the man moaning on his back. She squats down over the top of him and grabs his camera, yanking his neck up with it. The man yelps. “That’s mine!”
“And this is my home,” Sansa replies. She pops the SD card out of his camera and carelessly drops the camera back on his chest. “Care to explain what you thought gave you the right to break into my home? I’m sure my father will enjoy hearing the story as well.”
The man, who had a scruffly greying beard, visibly shuddered. He didn’t have anything to say.
A few moments later, Jory dashed around the corner. “Ms. Stark! What’s the commotion?”
“Jory, this man took it upon himself and his friend to break in and photograph myself and Margaery. Where’s your little pal?” Sansa now towered over the man, who was still on the floor.
Jory’s face pinched in fury. “A short fellow wearing work boots and a yellow jacket?”
Sansa nodded. Jory growled under his breath. “Saw him running on the sidewalk. Thought he was one of those paparazzi nuts that’s been chasing Lady Crane for the last week.”
The man below the grinned wide. Sansa glowered down and kicked his thigh petulantly. “Wait to call the police until father returns. I’m sure he will want a go at him first.”
Sansa marched back to the living room, ready to break the news to Margaery. The media had been in a frenzy when Loras held a press conference to come out. The prince of the nation had eventually been embraced, but it was far from certain that the people would embrace Margaery the same. Especially in the height of political scandal season.
Margaery sat on the plaid, velvet couch, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. She sighed as Sansa sat down beside her. “I wasn’t fast enough to catch him.”
“I know. Neither was Jory.”
“We’re not going to have a moment of peace for the rest of the week. At least 3 dozen media stations will be crowded outside this house by morning tomorrow. I’m sorry,” Margaery leaned away from Sansa.
Sansa grabbed her hand. “You have nothing to be sorry for. My family is used to the media too. Maybe not to the extreme as the royal family, but we can manage.”
Margaery gave her a soft, sad smile. She rested her head on her hand, her elbow rested on her knee. “How brave. I can’t let you put your family through that. I need to call my Gran,” Margaery chuckled. “I never imagined coming out to her over the phone. She’s going to be more upset about that than anything else.”
“And then what?” Sansa asked. She wasn’t ready for Margaery to leave. She didn’t know when she’d see the princess again.
“And then I charter a flight home, I suppose. Face the consequences,” Margaery shrugged.
Sansa thought for a moment. There had to be a compromise. The moment the idea popped into her head, she slapped her hand on Margaery’s knee.
“Ow! I know your not thrilled, but I don’t have much other choice,” Margaery rubbed the pink mark shaped like Sansa’s fingers on her knee.
“No! I know how this trip doesn’t have to be a complete waste!” Sansa exclaimed.
Margaery’s call with the Queen went as expected: sass on both ends, eye rolling that could be heard through the phone, and a touch of tenderness. Queen Olenna was even supportive of Sansa’s plan and told the girls she would handle the media in the interim.
So when camera trucks, newspaper reporters and dozens of photographers showed up outside the Stark home to blitz the princess and her surprising new lover, Sansa and Margaery were long gone. The backroads down to the Neck were as beautiful as the were vacant.
In the early morning light, they drove down the twisting mountain roads. Margaery’s soft breathing as she slept against Sansa’s shoulder was the perfect musical accompaniment to the purples and oranges that painted the skies adorned with fluffy white clouds. The came to a clearing at a turn and Sansa stomped the break. She barely managed to catch Margaery from smacking her head into the dashboard.
“Ugggghhhh,” Margaery groaned. “A simple, ‘wake up Margaery’ would have sufficed. She shook her head, curls flinging around. She looked adoarable, even half asleep.
“Sorry,” Sansa said. “We just need to see something.”
“Huh?” Margaery barely heard a word Sansa said, and before she could properly ask for an explanation, she was being whisked out of the car.
Swathed in Sansa’s arms and pushed out to the grass by the road, Margaery had to blink a few times to finally see. The sky with its oranges and purples and pinks, faded into a beautiful horizon, lined with mountains that seemed to touch the last stars of the night. Directly below them rivers that connected to the Twins rivers carved exotic outlines into the landscape.
“It’s beautiful,” Margaery murmured.
“I used to see this view all the time when mum and dad would take us to my grandfather’s house in the Riverlands. It’s one of the most beautiful sights in the country.”
“And you thought to share it with me?” Margaery half-smiled, touched by her girlfriend’s thoughtfulness.
Sansa pressed her lips to Margaery’s cheek. Then to her lips. “I thought my princess deserved to see what I see every time I see her.”
“Sansa…,” Margaery took a breath, “you’re amazing.”
“So are you,” Sansa’s hold tightened a little.
They watched the sun come up in silence.
As the last bit of pink faded out, Margaery unraveled herself from Sansa’s grip. “Come on, darling, it’s still a long way to King’s Landing.”
Sansa followed Margaery to the car. “I’m coming, princess,” Sansa laughed.
Margaery slid into the driver’s seat. “It’s Your Grace, princess,” Margaery corrected her in a regal tone.
Sansa rolled her eyes. “It took 22 years for you to crack under the weight of the crown. Longer than I expected. Brava.” She draped her arm over Margaery’s shoulder as the car got back on the road. In every way, Margaery was a princess, both in fact and in Sansa’s heart.
No. I am not hot. I am the farthest thing from hot. Trust me, no one would ever call me hot. And if you meant that I feel hot, the weather is finally turning to a nice 60ish degrees, so it’s just warm.
