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Chapter Text

Jon had scarcely been gone for a day when they came for her. Sansa had prepared for a summons, or even a surprise convoy to take her away. However, she had most definitely not been prepared to be kidnapped in the middle of the night by a small band of Unsullied soldiers.  She hadn’t gone down without a fight, however meagre her strength may have been. She’d been able to make enough noise that Brienne had come barreling through the door in her nightclothes, no doubt having woken up and immediately run from her chambers down the hall.  She had gotten a glimpse of the crumpled forms of her guards at the door, their blood traveling between them and pooling. The sight of blood had long lost its effect on her, but knowing that two more Northern soldiers had died for Daenerys Targaryen caused rage to coil like rope in her belly. Brienne had fought valiantly, but had been overtaken in the end by the butt of a spear to the back of the head.   Thugs, she had thought, they do not fight honorably as Brienne does or she would have won.   She too had gotten a knocking, and the next thing she knew, she was a half day’s ride out from King’s Landing.  They had stopped at an inn to refresh their horses, and she had tried tending to Brienne’s wounds, to no avail, as the men wouldn’t let Sansa touch her.  Due to the nature of her “summons” it wasn’t hard a far off guess to think that she would not be returning to the North alive. Thinking of the Winterfell from her youth, the one where mother and father were still alive, and Lady was still a constant reassuring presence, she continued on with a straight spine and a cold mask.

~

Kings Landing was in utter ruins.  She tried not to be sick all over her horse at the sight of the small crowds of common folk cleaning up ash and black skeletons.  Since being detained for so long, she had gotten no news on how the battle had turned out, she'd had no idea if Jon was alive. Sansa turned away and bit her lip to keep from crying out as a hunchbacked and graying woman carried the charred body of a child in her arms, crying openly with tears leaving trails over her ash covered cheeks.  In a way, she was sickly glad that she wouldn’t have to recall these vivid images for much longer. The Unsullied soldiers continued on like nothing was out of the ordinary, although Sansa realized this sight was probably normal for them. She scowled at the thought.  The people shrunk away as the Unsullied passed them, hiding behind crumbling pillars and locking themselves into whatever houses were standing. Mothers shielded their children, who clung to them with wide terrified eyes. She wished more than anything that she could help them all. The people of Kings Landing had suffered too much.  If the gods didn’t spare these people, all hope was lost for her. The silent trek up the winding roads was anything but silent for her, the thundering of her heart matching the beat of the horse's hooves.

~

“I’m sure you already know why you’re here, Lady Sansa.” Daenerys said, her lashes lowered to glower at Sansa from her position on the Iron Throne.  The entire keep had either been destroyed or heavily damaged, and the throne room showed it. Parts of the ceiling were gone, gaping holes with light streaming onto her.  Looking back to Daenerys, she opted to stay silent. Let whatever happens happen, clearly if Jon, the man who had asked her for her trust and faith, which she had given, would not choose to listen to her, then there wasn’t any hope.  If Daenerys could destroy and murder thousands of innocents and Jon wouldn’t do anything about it, all hope was lost. I will die before giving up the North. The Mad Queen stood with blazing eyes, her mouth twisted into a snarl, “You stand accused of high treason against your Queen, conspiring with my previous hand to have Jon Snow take what is mine. I charge you guilty, and therefore I sentence you to die at nightfall.” So Tyrion was dead, then. Sansa did her best to look impassive, and then a thought occurred to her, a last wish. “If your highness,” she did her best to lace in all that she was feeling into the disgusting title, “would be so kind, I would like to die as my father did. No doubt my cousin told you of his execution.”  Daenerys turned and sat upon the Iron Throne again, contempt in the set of her mouth and stirring in her eyes at the mention of Jon. “Yes he told me. I’ve only had one other person beheaded, and it had dire consequences for me.  I am a Targaryen, and I sentence people to die by dragonfire.” She had the sense to look contemplative, “However, I am a merciful Queen, and considering you are a beloved Lady, I will grant you this last wish. Take her, I’ll have her summoned at nightfall for the main yard.”  

~

The sun had nearly set outside her window, and yet not a single tear had fallen. Brienne had been put in a black cell, but she’d gotten news that after her execution her knight would be allowed to walk free. I just hope she’ll leave without a fight.  In all honesty, she would have fought harder to live, conspired more, if she knew that Jon would be on her side, but when he had taken the Dragon Queen's side that last war council, she'd felt so impossibly alone. She betrayed his trust for nothing, Tyrion and Varys had died for nothing, and Jon was a coward. A fool in love, she thought bitterly,  how could love be so blinding that even the slaughter of innocents not open his eyes? She wouldn’t be able to go to war against Jon, not just because he was a formidable foe, but because she loved him, they had been a pack, and despite them now being far away from each other physically and emotionally, they still were.  No matter his name, bastard or prince, he was a Stark to her. She was drawn out of her thoughts as the door burst open, and the man that commanded the Unsullied armies stepped through, what had Daenerys called him in his mother tongue? Tudor Nods? She didn’t care enough to further look into it. He carried a pair of chains with him, clinking together as he halted an arms length away from her. She stood with as much dignity as one in her position could manage while he slipped her wrists into the cuffs. A breaker of every chain, except mine.

Torgo Nudho, as she had found out, was a silent and cold man. Albeit, he was smaller in stature than most men, she knew better than to underestimate him.  They had barely made it out of the hall from her keeping quarters when a lone soldier came pounding down the staircase to whisper something in Torgo Nudho’s ear.  His eyes briefly flashed to her when the soldier was done, and then he said something in their tongue and continued on without her, following the soldier up the stairs.  They set off through the corridor to the right of the staircase, and eventually made it out to a courtyard. Sansa’s eyes immediately found the Queen’s, whose smug disposition made her sick. The food spread on the hastily put together table and chairs pulled at the pit in her stomach, and she realized her body hadn’t eaten what it needed for quite some time, not that it would matter once the sun set. Once they had reached her, she spread her arms out and beckoned Sansa to join her, dismissing the guards to the edges of the courtyard. She did not order to have Sansa’s chains taken off.  Daenerys gave Sansa a smile that was pitiful, barely more than a grimace. “I’m sure you’re quite hungry from your journey here, please, eat your fill before we make our way to-”

“Your grace, you speak as if we’re spending a quiet afternoon together. I’ll soon be in no need of food, and nor do I need to be spoken to in soft terms. I’m to die at sundown, and there is no reason to cover it in falsities.”  The Queen’s eyes momentarily widened and filled with rage, before she simply smiled again and turned to fill her plate as if a word hadn’t passed between them. After letting several moments pass, Sansa couldn’t help but ask, “Where is my cousin? I never received word that he had left for Winterfell. Am I allowed to give my goodbyes to him? Write a letter to the people of Winterfell, my sister and brother ?” All she got from her was a smile full of pity. “I’m afraid that Jon isn’t here,” Sansa noted with confusion that Daenerys almost sounded like she was convincing herself, “and no, you may not write a letter, I’m sure you’re a smart enough girl to know that should you write one, after your execution it would never be sent. Your peace of mind matters very little to me, considering how much unrest you caused with only your words, so I won’t allow you to write one even for yourself.  I told Jon not to tell you , but he didn’t listen.  Truly, he commited treason just as much as you did and should be dying beside you. Just another example of my mercy and kindness, it should seem.”  Sansa could taste bile in her mouth. She was no longer a little bird who sang whatever people wanted to hear, so she said nothing.

~
The sun had nearly set as the made their way to the once grand entrance to the Red Keep. Standing under the archway, Sansa tried not to feel sick at the sight of King’s Landing’s destruction. She could smell it, even though the battle had been over for over a fortnight, the ash and death.  A Dothraki soldier waited for her beyond the archway, his curved sword in hand. Just as she was about to take her first step over, Torgo Nudho joined them again, blood spattered all over his armor. Daenerys gave him a look full of meaning, and he nodded. Sansa’s stomach dropped at the sight of the Mad Queen’s bright smile. She made her way over, surveying the people gathered below.  It was mostly made up of Daenerys’ soldiers, the uniform Unsullied and the screeching Dothrakis. Behind both groups stood a small gathering of common folk, who looked on in confusion and terror. She supposed that her mind was just in overdrive, trying to take in as much as she could before she no longer had the chance, but in the very back of the courtyard, she spied the most beautiful horse she had ever seen.  Its dappled grey coat rippled in the setting sun’s light, it had no rider and seemed to have just gotten done galloping. No doubt a Dothraki had just finished riding it mercilessly.

Realizing that her time had come, she did what she had sworn never to do for this Queen. She knelt. Breathing slowly and calmly, she reflected in her last moments. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Family, Duty, Honor. These were the words she lived by, and yet here she was, alone, looking out at the hordes of Dothraki and Unsullied from her position on the ground. She wondered if any of the remaining common folk who survived The Great Burning were reminded of a different Stark who had been in the same position as she many years ago. Only this time, there was no one who cared about the treasonous Stark, no one to carry on the memory of her last moments. Awaiting his Queen’s command, the Dothraki got into position, his sword poised above her neck, the sensitive skin exposed to the air as her hair slipped down as she bent, her head hung low.  When the Queen offered a moment for last words, she stayed silent and unmoving. Daenerys gave her command, and Sansa listened to the air cut with his blade-- and then the deafening sound of steel on steel rang in her ears.

She froze for one long moment, her ears throbbing and eyes screwed shut. She was alive! She was alive? Looking up in confusion and shock, her eyes took in the darkened form of an armor-clad man, silhouetted against the sun.  She knew those curls, the set of his shoulder, she gasped at the sight of Jon, sweating, bloodied, and panting from an obvious run, his sword blocking the path of the Dothraki. She nearly cried out and launched herself into his arms, and when his eyes met hers, they softened. Everything went quiet for one blissful second as they looked at each other, and then the Queen gave such a terrifying screech that they both started. Jon quickly took care of the Dothraki, but the pounding sound of the approaching soldiers drew their eyes.  “We didn’t think this through near enough-” Jon choked, grabbing Sansa and hauling her to her feet. “We?” Sansa wheezed. “Didn’t exactly get much of a chance, did we?” Piped up a voice behind them. Sansa swung the other way, only to be met with a sight that made her nearly collapse back to the ground. The Queen was crumpled at their feet, her blood almost reaching Sansa’s boots, and Arya, Arya, was standing over her body, clad in Torgo Nudho’s armor and what suspiciously looked like a slip of skin in her hands.  Her mouth hung open in shock, but she wasn’t given a second to even barely process any of it before Jon grabbed her by the arm and Arya shouted for them to follow her.  

What happened next was a blur of corridors, staircases, and eventually alleyways before they were outside of King’s Landing. Sansa’s world was muffled and blurry, she was still reeling with the fact that she was alive, that her ears were ringing, that Jon's hand was digging into her arm and Arya was sprinting ahead of them, leading them to safety. After stopping behind a wrecked house, the world started to catch up with her, the sun had set, and it was nearly dark, she could faintly hear soldiers screaming in the distance. There was some sort of chittering sound going on next to her, and it took a moment to realize it was Jon and Arya speaking in short and quick bursts to each other.  “We only have one horse-” “Her chains-” “I’m heavier than you are-” “I can hide in plain sight-” “It’s too dangerous-” “I’m the only one that can get to Brienne!” And then Arya departed from them so quickly Sansa couldn’t even say goodbye or thank you. Cursing, Jon cupped her waist and nearly drug her into a dark alleyway, where they waited until the queenless and commanderless soldiers continued to search for them.  After deeming it safe enough to go, they bolted down the street and didn’t stop until they got to the main gate, where a dark horse waited, stabbing the ground with its hoof. It must have been left there by Arya or Jon since he had known where to go, and the fact that it hadn’t been taken was a miracle. She fought the tears trying to escape her eyes as Jon let out a breath of relief, probably thinking the same as her. He practically threw her onto the horse, and was on it as well not a second later. She clung to Jon for dear life as they raced out of the crumbled main gate, fearing that after all the day's events she would end up dying by slipping off.  It felt like hours later that King’s Landing was obscured by trees and the sounds of oncoming Dothraki had faded away. The Dothraki should have caught them, Jon had said, but the gods had for some unseen reason allowed them enough time to escape. She didn’t care about any of that, as soon as they were both off the horse she crashed into him, nearly knocking him over. She blubbered her thanks, her love, her relief .  Jon clung to her just as tightly, letting out a great sigh into her wind-tangled hair.  “Let's get your chains off," he said, releasing her and raising his hand to cup her cheek, “and then we’re going home to get our men.”  He drew his sword, and she held up her wrists. 

Chapter Text

“I don’t expect to live long, bastard, our Queen doesn’t take prisoners. The kindest mercy you could offer me at this point would be a skin of wine.”  The dwarf of Casterly Rock, Hand of the Queen Daenerys Targaryen, was a Hand no more, brought low and awaiting execution. Jon couldn’t help the scoff that slipped past his lips, “Why’d you do it?” He rasped, collapsing onto an overturned crate. “You’re near as smart as Sansa herself, you knew what throwing down that damn pin meant. Why not wait?”  Tyrion shot him a smile a tad too close to belittling, his eyes a mixture of contempt and misery. Tyrion looked just the same as he had a half hour ago, when he’d stepped down as Hand, but the stench of defeat wafted off of him in waves, and Jon repressed the urge to retch. He waited for the response, trying not to let his mind wander to the speech preceding Tyrion’s suicidal act of defiance.  He didn’t know what tongue Daenerys had spoken in, but each time her warriors had cheered, his gut had twisted tighter. Then she’d spat the name of his home, and his heart stuttered. He’d tried, truly tried, to keep the peace between the North and Daenerys, but his “skills” in the art of lying were worse off than a child’s. He should have told Sansa at the very least, that he’d listened to her, that listening to her council wasn’t terrible at all, that he’d tried to be smarter than Father, smarter than Robb. Here he was now, with King’s Landing burning outside the window and the screams of the innocent still echoing in his ears, just the memory of burning flesh enough to make his eyes water. He was just as any other Northman gone south, a fool. And I’m not even of the North. He resisted the urge to punch the wall adjacent to him. The rage was building inside him, rage at Daenerys for burning thousands, rage at himself for being a part of it.

Just as he felt like the weight of his transgressions would crush him, a voice spoke softly in his mind, a memory drifting out from the box of moments he stored to keep him going, to keep him alive. I’m not a Stark… You are to me. The hole he felt in his chest cried out her name. Sansa. He’d done it for her, for the North, and when he found out that Arya and Bran were alive, they’d joined her name on his list of reasons to do the unhonorable thing, to lie, to cheat. He was a shell when his eyes had opened after being stuck in that dark void, a shell of a man who had given up. He was cold, he was alone, he was finished. He’d had no intention of going South to “get warm,” his only intention was to get out of eyesight and go back to that void, where he could continue to feel nothing, to feel cold.  Then, there she was, a beacon in the dark, hair kissed by fire igniting in him the will to live once more. She’d credited him with saving her, when in all reality without her, he’d be a dead man once more. He would do whatever it took to get back to her-

“She was my last hope.” Came Tyrion’s broken whisper. “She was the Queen I chose, the one person I thought could end this madness. In the end, she was the maddest of them all, and I supported her.” A single tear ran down his scarred cheek, and the agony in his eyes made Jon drop his gaze to the ground. “You’re the only one left that can stop her and keep countless others from the fate of King’s Landing. My Valerian is rusty, but I know what she plans to do next. Before anything or anyone else, Sansa will burn.  Besides me, I suppose. I’ll be the next to burn.” Jon’s heart clenched at the thought of Sansa, standing before them all just as Varys had done, her cold expression breaking into pure torture as Daenerys gave the soft command of “Dracarys.”

The growl ripped out of him unbidden, “No.” Not even attempting to compose himself, the low rumble of his voice echoed off the stone walls, making Tyrion’s eyes widen, “Sansa will not be touched, let alone step foot in this godsforsaken place again.” They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, the intensity of their gazes not bothering either in the slightest. Finally, Tyrion warily opened his mouth. “Whether or not I threw down that pin,” he began shakily, “I would have been arrested anyways. I did not come forward with the information passed to me immediately, and I barely escaped with my life. Then, I let my brother go. I was a dead man walking, and I made the last choice I could that would serve me with some comfort before I die.” His eyes strayed to the window, voice taking on a distant tone. “Did you imagine that the Queen would have any mercy for the woman who gave out the information that ripped apart her council?” His eyes slowly slide to Jon’s. “Or the man?” The rage returned tenfold, and he stood to leave. Just before opening the door, he turned back to the small, broken man cowering in the corner. “Sansa will never burn, even if it means I have to. Farewell, Tyrion.” He promptly walked out and shut the door, the sound echoing all the way up the staircase and leaving Jon with a bitter taste in his mouth.

~

He found her exactly as he’d imagined, looking imploringly at the Iron Throne, hand clasped on the pommel of a sword. She’d not yet sat down, he was sure he’d be interrupting a very important moment for her. He cleared his throat and struggled to wipe off the disgust on his face. She turned, ever the graceful queen, and gave him a look so full of love and accomplishment that it left him reeling. He could have loved her, if his heart hadn’t already belonged to another. To the North, he growled inwardly. He could have found it within himself to care for her at least, had it not been for the threats against Sansa, for never accepting the battle against the dead as everyone’s war, for burning an entire city . She was still beaming at him, her eyes shining with a victory that never happened, you decimated them when they’d given up. The smile he threw her way was pitiful. His mask had gotten better the longer he lied to her, found out what blinded her the most, but the memory of burning children still shook him to the core.

She sighed, her eyes sweeping around the destroyed throne room like it was the grandest thing she’d ever seen. “All my life I dreamed of this moment, at first I dreamed it was my brother taking the throne, and then it was me. It was so much more right , when it was me on the throne. Now, here we are. I’m right where I was destined to be, and I have you by my side.” Her mouth twisted slightly, like the smiled was rotting on her face. “Grey Worm told me something that is quite,” she inhaled a long breath, eyes turning to stone, “disappointing.” She started to circle around him, nothing like a wolf, something more akin to a snake slithering around a small mouse. But he was no mouse. He was the snow, chilling and terrifying in his fury. He was a wolf, separated from his pack and poised to rip out his enemy’s throat. He was a dragon , armor made of scales and a fiery inferno burning in his chest. “And what is it that has disappointed you, my Queen?” The term meant for endearment was now a thinly veiled insult as his mouth betrayed his inner feelings. She stopped behind him to the left, and he took inventory of all his weapons currently on his person. Longclaw, the dagger at his hip, the small dagger hidden in his boot… But she wouldn’t try anything without her dragon, he knew that for sure. Suddenly, her mouth was inches away from his ear, her breath hot. It took everything in him not to recoil in disgust. “You tried to defy me, again.” She snarled, the soft hand on his arm turning into claws. “You tried to make your men stand down, when the battle was not yet won, you tried to stop Grey Worm from carrying out my orders!”  He wrenched his arm free, spinning around to look her in the eyes. “The battle had been won!” He roared, the open sky above swallowing his bellows. “They rang the bell in surrender, and you burned them all anyway!” His voice cracked, “I thought you a kind woman, just, and everything this suffering kingdom needed after the madness that we’ve all been through. But you ,” he drew in close, fighting the urge to strike her, “you are the worst of them all .” He stepped back again, shocked to find that she remained stoic. She shook her head, a small belittling smile turning her lips like he was the daftest fool to ever walk. “I delivered them, Jon. I liberated them all from a tyrant-”

“And became one yourself!” He shouted, “Or perhaps you’ve been one all this time, and we’re both fools duped by your delusions of destiny. I thought that my destiny, the reason I was brought back, was to kill the Night King.” He stopped, allowing himself the small smile of pride at the thought of his sister, who would always remain just that. “I didn’t kill him. Instead, I realized that destiny is hardly what we expect it to be, and we all should just let our lives play out as they should, free . You didn’t liberate, deliver, or free these people, you robbed them.” He drew Longclaw, looking at her with pained eyes. “I never wanted to do this. I wanted you to be Queen in return for helping defend in realm from certain death, and I wanted to go back home. I never wanted these people to die, and I never wanted to kill you.” She staggered back, going up the steps and gripping the throne like her life depended on it. “I wouldn’t dare it if I were you.” She yapped. “Unless, of course,” her eyes were hooded as the vile words poured from her mouth, “you would consent to setting into motion the death of your beloved sister.” He stopped his advance, staring at her in shock. “Sansa?” came his broken reply, full of confusion. “But how… she’s safe in the North! You couldn’t touch her if you dared, not with Brienne and Arya to protect her.” She scoffed, “I’ll tell you how I managed it when I know you can’t hurt me.” Her eyes became clouded then, full of sorrow and longing. “I’m alone now. All of my advisors have turned against me. I have only my remaining child, and my forces.” Her eyes hardened once again, “The sight of your sister burning will quench this ache inside me. The ache you all put there.”  When she called for the Unsullied to take him away, he lunged at her, dropping Longclaw in favor of the dagger at his side.  She screeched for them to hurry, and he spun her around to place the knife at her throat. “The moment you kill me,” she said shakily, “word will be sent to the convoy that has Sansa. They will kill her immediately.” Damn you. He thought. Damn you to every hell there is. A scream tore from his throat as he shoved her away, she staggered off the steps and collapsed in a heap below him. Rubbing at the thin cut his dagger made, she spoke roughly in another tongue to her soldiers. They advanced on him, and he plunged the dagger deep into the chest of the nearest soldier, then fell to his knees. The last he saw of Daenerys was her seated upon the Iron Throne, the small wound on her throat still bleeding, she looked down on them all.

~

She came to him the next day, looking down the slope of her nose at his chained state. He was being kept in the same room Tyrion had been in, but the imp was no longer there.  He had tried using his time to find a way out, but for all his lying, he wasn’t smart like Sansa. He’d had a semblance of a plan, just enough that it could be considered a plan, but now it had all gone to-

“Would you like to hear how I acquired your cousin? I’m sorry for slip yesterday, I’m sure it’s still raw to hear the word sister and not have it actually be true.” She truly looked contrite, and it made the pit in his stomach sink deeper at the thought that she could’ve been playing him all along as well. Sitting down as far from him as the room allowed, coincidentally where he’d sat the day before, she began her tale. It was short, and he hated her all the more for it. “The day we all departed, I left a small band of Unsullied just on the outskirts of Wintertown. After all the troops departed, they snuck into the castle and stole your sister from her bed. They’ve been waiting for the command to bring her here, and since we won, they had no reason to kill her themselves.” He felt like he was choking, “Not only did you have her ripped from her bed before we both even knew she’d broken my trust, you were going to have her killed even if we didn’t succeed?” He wanted to kill her, he didn’t give a damn if he’d be labeled a Queenslayer and a kinslayer, she deserved to die for all that she had done.  “Sansa will be here soon, and then I’ll have you watch as the life is burned from her body. Then I’ll be merciful and end your misery, possibly.” She gathered herself up, and went to the door, shooting him a chilling look. “I’ve sent your men home with word that you’ve gone to join the Night’s Watch. When they can’t find you, I’ll let them spin their own tales." A sigh escaped her parted lips, "Soon, I will call all the Lords and Ladies of this kingdom to swear fealty, and the ones who don’t will be liberated. Goodnight, Jon Snow .” She shut the door, and he hung his head as the first tears made tracks down his face.

Chapter Text

I'm redoing the chapters to this story and publishing them on a different post so I have a clean slate to work with. SO SORRY for the wait and the changes. I'm not sure what possessed me to publish this when it's more of a glorified outline. The first chapter is up for The Time of Wolves is Nigh (which is this story, just hopefully better lol). Again, I'm so sorry for all the changes! I published this in the middle of finals because apparently in my sleep deprived and overworked brain I thought it was a good idea.