I was inspired by the stansa story, ‘A Lady in Waiting,’ by the wonderful @the-red-wulf and wrote ‘Winter’s Princess’ from Shireen/Stannis’ POV. 🦕💙
I’ll post the fic below as well (sfw!). It made me happy to write - almost as happy as when I read Red Wulf’s work. Every fic is so earnestly sweet and romantic, they make me want to fall in love. 🤍💙
Ever since she could remember, Shireen knew that she was loved.
She had never known what it was like to be without a warm presence beside her or have no one to confess her hurts and her wishes to. Shireen only had to trace the stags and daisies embroidered on her sleeves and know that she wasn’t alone – she never was, with Davos, and Patches, and her parents beside her.
Shireen loved them all in different ways and would never choose a favorite between them; though she knew Davos was the best with her secrets, Patches was always able to amuse and uplift her, and her parents would always be there. Her mother always had a sweet word, and a comforting embrace, while her father could advise her as no one else could. Davos’ wife, Marya, made her happy too, though she was often busy with her sons, who Shireen found too rough to play with.
She knew that others weren’t as fortunate, the thought making her heart tremble. She prayed for many things to the Seven, her thoughts revolving around her mother and the swell of her bodice, and her father who had never looked so happy.
(“He was like this before, when you were just born,” Sansa, the only mother that she had ever known confided. It wasn’t often that Shireen thought of her blood mother, Selyse, though she dutifully included her in her prayers. “He loves you very much, darling. He always has.”)
Her slipper-clad feet slapped against the marble as she ran, heedless of the guard that followed her. Shireen clutched her gift near, knowing she would be devastated if she dropped it. She and her father had wanted to do something special for her mother’s name day…
“Papa!" Shireen exclaimed as she slipped into his study. He looked up from his papers, his scowl vanishing as he saw who it was. "Look! The roses bloomed!"
“Indeed,” Stannis said, as he rose to his feet. The warmth in his tone was one he reserved for only a handful of people, namely his wife, and their daughter. Shireen beamed as she presented the crown of roses that she’d weaved.
“Do you think mama will like them?” Shireen asked, her eyes growing wide as her father took the crown from her. He handled it gently, his eyes softening as he thought of his wife, Sansa. She was a princess of the North, his constant companion, and the only woman that he had dared to adore.
And love, as he never had before.
“I do,” Stannis murmured, handing the crown back to her.
Shireen worried her lip, her brow knitting for a moment. “Do you think it will make her sad, papa?” she asked, her tone quiet. She often heard stories of Winterfell before bed, leaving her with thoughts of swirling snow, a sacred Godswood, and the ghosts that haunted the castle walls within.
“Mama says that she misses Winterfell very much, though she would never leave us. She – she promised me,” Shireen added, her cheeks flushing pink.
The blue roses that Stannis had grown with his daughter were the only secret they kept from Sansa, one they intended to reveal on her name day. Davos had found the sole trader in King’s Landing who possessed the rare seeds, and the palace gardeners had carefully cultivated them, tending them much as they would at Winterfell.
(The sole gardener who claimed it wasn't possible was quickly shoved aside by the others – their winter queen was adored by many, including most of the palace servants.)
She was nothing like Stannis’s first queen, Selyse, who had spared little kindness for the servants, nor for the nobles alike. Her name was rarely spoken, as overshadowed by Sansa as she was. For Sansa was Selyse’s opposite in every way; delighting in balls and fetes, bestowing her smile on countless, and loving both Stannis and Shireen as Selyse never had.
Stannis ruffled his daughter’s hair, something he would have never dared before. Sansa had changed him in ways he had never fathomed, causing a warmth to spread throughout him as if he were the same as any Stark. (Had her brother Robb not married for love? He was a foolish boy, a reckless man, yet Stannis found he could understand.)
“She will love them, Shireen,” Stannis said, as Shireen looked up at him with thoughtful eyes. Shireen was the only reason Stannis never regretted his marriage to Selyse, as cold as their marriage was. It was nothing like his marriage with Sansa, one made for love, and domestic bliss. Sansa would never break her word to him nor their daughter, and their coming child, her thoughts and her promises as steady as the sun.
There were times when Stannis felt pity for the man that he once was, rigidly following his duty, and Selyse, who never knew true happiness with him. They were betrothed before they left the cradle, and the thought of breaking their betrothal had never occurred to them. They married out of obligation, and nothing had ever occurred between them that they wanted or asked for. It would be different for Shireen when the time came for her to marry, neither Stannis nor Sansa desiring her to sacrifice her heart and her body, for the sake of politics.
“Just as Sansa loves our home here, and you.”
He meant every word and was glad for it. He knew that he could be harsh, even cruel to the ones that followed him as he thought of little beyond facts and figures. Yet when it came to his daughter or his wife, he found himself wanting to be more than dutiful and solemn.
“She loves you too, papa,” Shireen replied, her braids bobbing as she nodded her head. After seeing the pretty braids that her mother wore, Shireen had never stopped begging for the same – and in the privacy of their apartments, Stannis allowed his daughter to look like a northern princess, the same as her mother was.
Neither he nor Sansa could deny Shireen, not when she asked so sweetly, and had such an earnest soul. “She said so -”
“Did she?” Stannis asked, his tone light. Davos would have laughed, had he overheard, for he warned his friend that he was softening. (“You’re becoming a father in truth, Your Grace,” Davos told him, shortly after witnessing him watching as Sansa played in the gardens with Shireen. “Do you see why I can deny my boys nothing? Nor can my wife, who wears a similar look like you, when she sees our youngest... “)
“Yes!” Shireen cried.
Stannis smiled, for how could he not?
Sansa had changed his life, as well as Shireen's, for, since her birth, Sansa had raised her as a mother would. She had raised Shireen as if she were her daughter in truth; singing to her when she cried, holding her hand when she learned to walk, and mopping her brow when she was sick. Shireen was never far from her, their laughter filling the palace halls, and at times, even sharing the same bed.
And when Selyse had passed –
Shireen’s life hadn’t changed at all, as Sansa was the only mother she had ever known. Nor had Stannis wept, as he mourned the loss of a woman that had never wanted him, nor the daughter she had borne. There was little change in the palace, as Sansa remained in charge of Shireen, and remained in his company.
Her smiles, her laugh, her hesitant touch on his sleeve –
It was everything to Stannis, and he had only one thought after Selyse passed: Sansa could be his.
It delighted and terrified him in turn, as he glimpsed what a life with her could be. She would have all of him or none, and in the months that followed, Stannis found himself exposed, as he never had before. Sansa knew him more than he knew himself, and he often wondered whether he was enough.
For he wanted her by his side, as his queen, as his wife, and the mother of his children. There was no one else that Shireen took to as she did Sansa, who was unfaltering in her kindness and patience. There was true love between them, as they giggled at Patches’ the fool’s antics, and coaxed the surly royal chef into making lemon cakes for them. Shireen learned kindness and manners from Sansa as if she were truly her own daughter, and Stannis found himself wishing to learn everything that Sansa would teach him.
And so, after he put away his black garments, and was free once more; he asked her the question that could change both their lives. (“Will you be mine?” he asked, his tone hesitant as if he were a boy once more, “My wife, my queen – “
‘I would do anything to make you happy,’ Stannis wanted to add, he needed to add –
He would force his sword through his doublet before he hurt her, the thought of her fearing him make his blood freeze. He wanted her as he wanted nothing before and wished with every fiber of his being that theirs would be more than a dutiful marriage. He wanted to adorn her with his love and see her swell with child while wearing the crown. He wanted her heart and her soul.
The words spilled from his lips before he could swallow them, and her smile was like the sun. It was blinding and warm, and he stepped closer to her.
“I want nothing else,” Sansa whispered, as he pressed her hand against his cheek. He wanted to keep it there, greedy for her warmth, her love, and she seemed to feel the same. Her blue eyes held his, utterly absent of fear. “I dream of nothing else, Stannis.”)
It was the best day of their lives, as Stannis and Sansa both wept, with Shireen between them.
Stannis guided Shireen to the study door, content with leaving scrolls behind on his desk. “Should we go surprise her?” he asked, chuckling as Shireen shrieked in response.
It was their first secret they’d shared, the first surprise they both thought of. Sansa brought them together in more ways than one, something Stannis would never be able to thank her enough for.
Shireen beamed up at him, with a toothy-grin and bright, wide eyes. “Yes, please!”
