𝖇𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊

his   silence   worries   her   for   a   moment.        makes   her   wonder   if   she   has   spoken   too   freely,    out   of   turn,    in   promising   to   stand   at   his   side   when   there   have   been,    undoubtedly,    other   plans   for   him   all   along.    it   wouldn't   have   come   as   much   of   a   shock   to   know   the   queen   had   better   intentions   for   her   son,    for   her   heir,    than   the   daughter   of   a   betrayer   uncle.    than   a   northern   girl   who   found   it   a   little   too   easy   to   fall   in   love   with   handsome   princes.    it   isn't   until   his   hand   cups   around   her   cheek   that   sansa   feels   as   though   she   can   finally   breathe   again,    no   longer   holding   breath   within   lungs   that   had   begun   to   scream.

“yes.”        the   word   is   past   her   lips   before   sansa   can   think   otherwise,    so   easily   spoken   that   it   feels   as   if   it   had   fallen   directly   from   her   tongue.    her   adoration   of   him   was   written   so   obviously   within   the   lines   of   her   face,    in   the   wide   grey-blue   eyes   that   had   tracked   each   twitch   of   muscle   in   his   face.    so   willing   sansa   had   been   to   give   him   the   answer   he   had   wanted,    there   had   never   been   a   consideration   for   the   opposite.    perhaps   it   was   too   easy,    this   agreeance   to   stand   at   his   side   no   matter   the   cost.    perhaps   sansa   didn't   know   all   that   it   would   truly   entail,    but   did   it   matter?    would   it   matter?    if   at   the   end   of   each   day   she   could   curl   her   hands   'round   his   and   know   that   she   was   loved? 

His   gaze   softened,   taking   in   the   vulnerability   in   her   eyes.   Sansa,   this   northern   girl   spoke   with   such   conviction.   Her   promise   to   stand   at   his   side   no   matter   the   cost,   to   face   the   realm   if   it   meant   being   with   him,   stirred   something   deep   inside   him.   It   wasn’t   her   title   or   her   lineage   that   mattered—it   was   her.   He   reached   up,   his   hand   cupping   her   cheek,   the   warmth   of   his   fingers   brushing   away   any   lingering   doubt   she   had.

“Sansa,”   he   whispered,   the   sound   of   her   name   like   a   vow.   His   thumb   grazed   her   skin,   marveling   at   how   she   seemed   to   relax   beneath   his   touch.   He   could   see   the   trust   in   her   eyes,   the   way   she   had   already   given   herself   to   him   in   spirit,   before   the   realm,   before   anyone   else   could   stake   a   claim   on   him.   She   had   been   so   brave,   so   quick   to   say   yes,   even   when   she   didn’t   have   to.

Her   words   still   echoed   in   his   mind,   her   promise   to   face   the   realm   alone   if   it   meant   having   him.   Jace   knew   the   weight   of   those   words,   the   sacrifices   that   could   come,   the   pain   and   struggle.   “I   don’t   care   about   any   plans   for   me,”   he   said   softly,   his   voice   steady   as   his   hand   lingered   on   her   face.   “I   don’t   care   what   anyone   thinks.   I   choose   you.”

Sara’s  breath  caught  in  her  throat  at  Jacaerys'  words,  her  heart  pounding  wildly  in  her  chest  as  his  confession  sank  in.  She  hadn’t  expected  this,  not  at  all.  Jacaerys  was  a  prince,  he  was  the  future  of  the  seven  kingdoms,  and  he  was  engaged.  And  yet,  as  she  looked  into  his  eyes,  filled  with  vulnerability  and  hope,  she  felt  a  flutter  in  her  chest.  How  many  times  had  she  wondered  if  his  feelings  mirrored  her  own?  When  her  brother  told  him  he  was  gone,  she  thought  she  would  never  see  him  again,  and  each  night,  she  wondered  if  her  name  crossed  his  mind.  He  had  many  more  important  things  to  think  about,  she  knew  that,  and  she  wouldn't  have  blamed  him  if  he  forgot.

But  he  was  here.  He  was  here,  he  was  back  in  the  North.  For  her. 

She  took  a  small  step  closer,  the  distance  between  them  shrinking  as  her  voice  softened.  Sara  only  hesitated  for  a  second  before  placing  her  hand  on  his,  gently  brushing  her  fingers  across  her  knuckles.

❝   It  isn't  one-sided.  I…  You  never  left  my  thoughts,  not  once.  ❞

But  what  did  it  mean?  He  was  to  marry  another  woman.  A  noble  lady,  whom  she  heard  was  fierce  and  kind.  Whereas  she…  Sara  had  never  been  ashamed  of  her  status  as  a  bastard,  but  she  was  not  a  fool.  Bastard  girls  did  not  marry  princes,  and  it  didn't  even  cross  her  mind  that  Jacaerys  would  even  think  about  breaking  his  engagement. 

❝   I  just…  What  do  you  want  from  this,  from  me?  I  truly  do  care  for  you,  I  longed  to  see  you  from  the  moment  you  were  gone,  but  I  …  won't  be  your  mistress.  ❞

Jacaerys   stood   still,   every   word   Sara   spoke   pulling   at   him   in   ways   he   hadn't   anticipated.   Her   confession   was   a   balm   to   the   vulnerability   he   had   allowed   to   surface,   but   her   final   words—I   won’t   be   your   mistress—hung   in   the   air   like   a   sword   poised   to   fall.   He   had   known   this   wouldn’t   be   easy,   but   hearing   her   put   voice   to   the   reality   of   their   situation   made   it   painfully   clear   how   delicate   the   path   ahead   would   be.

He   admired   her   for   that   strength,   the   way   she   knew   her   worth   and   refused   to   compromise   it,   even   for   him.   But   it   also   left   him   feeling   a   sense   of   helplessness   that   he   rarely   encountered.   As   a   prince,   he   was   used   to   making   decisions,   commanding   the   course   of   events.   But   here,   in   this   moment,   with   Sara,   the   choices   seemed   out   of   his   hands.   He   took   a   breath,   his   chest   tightening   as   he   tried   to   form   the   right   words.   He   had   come   back   to   the   North   for   her,   driven   by   a   need   he   could   no   longer   suppress,   but   now   he   was   faced   with   the   weight   of   it   all.   Baela.   His   duty.   His   future.

He   hadn’t   thought   so   far   ahead,   only   of   the   burning   need   to   see   Sara   again,   to   confess   what   had   lingered   in   his   heart   for   so   long.   “I   don’t   want   you   to   be   my   mistress,”   Jace   said   softly,   his   voice   earnest   as   he   met   her   gaze.   “I   never   wanted   that   for   you,   Sara.”   His   hand   turned   under   hers,   gently   curling   his   fingers   around   hers   as   if   he   could   anchor   them   both   in   the   uncertainty   swirling   between   them.   “I’ve   thought   of   you   every   day   I’ve   been   gone.   It’s   been   like   a   shadow   I   can’t   escape,   but   not   one   I   want   to.   I’m   not   here   to   take   advantage   of   you,   or   to   pretend   we   don’t   both   know   what   this   is.”

“i   would   not   ask   you   to   change   the   world   for   me.”        sansa   murmurs   softly,    a   shake   of   her   head   that   sends   further   curls   into   her   face,    hiding   the   way   her   cheeks   bloom   a   warm   shade   of   pink   across   the   apples.    and   in   truth,    she   would   not.    would   not   ever   think   to   ask   him   to   change   any   ounce   of   his   being   nor   his   world   for   her,    but   if   he   would   allow   her   the   opportunity   of   merely   being   there   beside   him        –        of   standing   in   the   glow   of   his   warmth,    she   would   never   falter   in   her   support   of   him.    would   never   stop   offering   him   the   love   and   adoration   he   had   earned. 

“i   would   not   ask   you   to   abandon   your   responsibilities   for   me   either,    i   would   not   ever   ask   you   to   place   me   above   the   duty   of   the   crown.”        a   shifting   of   her   chin   to   look   at   him   fully,    a   heavy   settling   of   her   gaze   upon   his.    love   and   care   would   not   ever   ask   any   to   leave   behind   the   life   that   they   had   been   destined   for,    nor   would   sansa   ever   ask   jacaerys   to   look   upon   his   mother   and   tell   her   that   he   would   not   hold   to   her   wishes   of   her   lineage   upon   the   iron   throne.    “what   i   would   ask   of   you   is   to       –     allow   me   at   your   side,    to   let   me   bear   the   burden   alongside   you.    i   want   to   be   with   you,    at   every   turn,    even   if   it   means   an   acceptance   of   duty   that   was   not   originally   meant   for   me.” 

Jace’s   breath   caught   in   his   chest,   the   weight   of   Sansa’s   words   sinking   deep   into   him.   He   hadn’t   expected   this—a   confession   so   earnest,   so   bold.   Sansa   Stark,   ever   composed,   had   opened   herself   up   to   him   in   a   way   that   left   no   room   for   doubt   about   her   intentions.      She   didn’t   want   a   crown,   a   throne,   or   any   of   the   trappings   of   power   that   came   with   his   lineage.   No,   what   she   wanted   was   him.

   And   not   just   the   prince   or   the   future   heir   of   the   Iron   Throne,   but   Jacaerys   Velaryon,   the   man   beneath   all   that   weight.   The   idea   of   it   struck   him   harder   than   he’d   imagined.   He   knew   the   burden   of   duty   well—the   unrelenting   expectations,   the   need   to   always   do   what   was   right   for   the   realm,   for   his   family.   But   here   she   was,   asking   to   share   it   with   him,   not   shy   away   from   it.

He   watched   her,   captivated   by   the   blush   coloring   her   cheeks,   the   slight   tremor   in   her   voice   despite   the   strength   of   her   words.   She   was   offering   him   everything,   and   not   out   of   ambition   or   the   desire   to   manipulate,   but   out   of   love.   Pure,   unadulterated   love.   He   reached   out   before   he   realized   what   he   was   doing,   his   hand   cupping   her   face   gently,   his   thumb   tracing   the   warmth   of   her   flushed   skin.   Jace   felt   the   weight   of   his   responsibilities   in   an   entirely   new   way.   

“You   would   stand   with   me,”   Jace   murmured,   his   voice   low   as   his   thumb   stroked   her   cheek,   “even   if   it   meant   taking   on   responsibilities   that   were   never   meant   to   be   yours?”   He   swallowed   hard,   the   lump   in   his   throat   tightening.   He   had   always   imagined   duty   and   love   as   two   opposing   forces,   constantly   at   war   with   each   other.   But   now,   with   Sansa   looking   at   him   like   this,   he   wondered   if   they   could   coexist.   

it   was   wrong.     perhaps   even   cruel   to   ask   such   a   thing   of   him,    to   make   such   a   request   when   he   had   come   for   little   more   than   cregan's   fealty.    jacaerys   had   come   on   his   mother's   behalf,    to   ensure   the   north's   support   in   the   way   forward        –        he   had   not   come   for   such   trivial   matters.    he   had   not   flown   his   dragon   through   snowstorm   and   ice   to   have   his   future   changed   by   the   desperate   pleas   of   a   girl   who   longed   for   more   than   the   walls   of   winterfell.    and   yet   sansa   could   not   help   herself,    could   not   stop   herself   from   falling   into   the   wanting   of   him,    of   his   warm   hands   and   his   gentle   smile.    and   when   his   gentle   smile   breaks   to   offer   such   words,    to   say   that   he   would   change   the   world   for   her   if   he   could,    it   is   then   that   sansa   knows   she   is   lost   in   all   things   that   concern   him. 

the   music   ceases,    custom   dictates   they   should   part,    and   yet   it   is   if   they   have   entered   their   own   world   amongst   the   crowd.        “you   would?”        she   asks   softly,       a   tentative   question        –        wide   -   eyed,    full   of   hope.        “i   do   not   wish   to   cause        .   .   .        trouble   for   you,     jacaerys.”        sansa   had   not   met   his   mother,    but   she   imagined   such   a   thing   as   promising   to   choose   her   would   not   create   the   most   benevolent   of   feelings.    even   still,    her   touch   lingers   upon   his   hand,    fingers   delicately   interwoven   with   his.    a   beat,    before   she   slowly   guides   him   from   the   center   of   the   hall,    away   from   further   prying   eyes   and   looming   questions   from   others.    it   is   in   the   quiet   of   a   darkened   hallway   lit   by   a   lone   candle   that   sansa   stops   and   exhales   a   shaky   breath.

As   Jacaerys   listened   to   words,   a   swell   of   emotions   stirred   within   him—confusion,   longing,   and   an   undeniable   pull   towards   her   that   he   couldn’t   quite   shake.   He   had   come   to   Winterfell   for   his   mother’s   purpose,   to   forge   alliances,   to   secure   the   North’s   support   for   the   tumultuous   times   ahead.   He   hadn’t   anticipated   this   moment,   her   voice   weaving   through   the   air   like   a   spell,   igniting   a   flame   that   flickered   in   the   chill   of   the   hall.

It   was   true;   asking   him   for   more   felt   like   a   betrayal   of   his   intentions.   He   had   not   flown   Vermax   through   howling   winds   and   blinding   snow   to   entangle   himself   in   the   desires   of   a   girl   trapped   in   the   frigid   embrace   of   Winterfell.   And   yet,   Sansa’s   presence   warmed   him,   her   very   being   a   tantalizing   flame   against   the   biting   cold.

The   gentle   smile   he   offered   faltered   for   a   moment,   and   in   that   instant,   he   felt   the   truth   of   her   plea   settle   heavily   between   them.   “I   would   change   the   world   for   you,   if   I   could.”   The   words   slipped   from   his   lips   without   his   conscious   intent,   and   in   that   moment,   he   knew   he   was   stepping   into   unfamiliar   territory,   one   that   threatened   to   reshape   everything   he   believed   about   duty   and   sacrifice.

They   moved   away   from   the   crowd,   and   as   Sansa   guided   him   down   the   dim   corridor,   Jacaerys   could   sense   the   shift   in   the   atmosphere   around   them.   The   quietness   of   the   hall   felt   sacred,   a   world   apart   from   the   prying   eyes   and   whispered   questions.   The   flickering   candlelight   cast   shadows   that   danced   across   her   features,   illuminating   the   uncertainty   that   lingered   there.

Jacaerys   wanted   to   assure   her   that   her   wishes   were   not   selfish   but   instead   a   natural   longing   that   resonated   within   him   as   well.   Her   cheeks   flushed,   and   the   warmth   of   her   hand   slipping   from   his   felt   like   a   loss   he   could   scarcely   bear.   Each   word   was   like   a   dagger,   piercing   through   the   tension   in   the   air.   He   wanted   to   capture   that   sentiment,   to   hold   it   close   as   he   wrestled   with   his   own   conflicting   desires.

Jacaerys’s   breath   caught   in   his   throat.   In   that   moment,   her   vulnerability   resonated   deeply   within   him.   She   didn’t   just   want   him;   she   yearned   for   him—fully   and   completely.   And   the   gravity   of   her   admission   tugged   at   the   edges   of   his   heart,   tempting   him   to   abandon   the   path   of   duty   for   the   allure   of   connection.   “Sansa,”   he   began,   his   voice   steady   but   soft,   “the   weight   of   my   responsibilities   is   heavy,   and   I   fear   I   cannot   abandon   them   lightly.   But   you…”   He   hesitated,   searching   for   the   right   words   as   he   looked   into   her   eyes,   those   endless   pools   of   yearning   and   hope.   “You   are   more   than   a   request;   you   are   a   part   of   the   world   I   want   to   change.”

He   stepped   closer,   his   gaze   locked   onto   hers,   each   heartbeat   thudding   in   unison   with   the   growing   desire   in   his   chest.   “If   staying   by   your   side   is   selfish,   then   I   am   willing   to   bear   that   burden.   I   want   to   be   with   you,   Sansa.”   The   words   flowed   freely,   driven   by   a   fierce   longing   to   bridge   the   chasm   between   duty   and   desire.

“ the sun shines again today, but I will be trapped in my chambers again. “

“ I don’t want it. I don’t want anything. “

“ I promise you, I will never make you cry. I will always make you smile. “

“ it is a great sin to separate a mother from her son.”

“ you come and see your son whenever you like. he is very healthy. “

“ don’t cry, it burns my soul. “

“ but your heart is ugly. “

“ how much gold do you want ? “

“ what do you want most; love, happiness, wealth, or health ? “

“ I have much work to do, find me in the courtyard when you are ready to leave.”

“ the ache will remain in my heart until I die. “

“ I don’t know, I haven’t heard. “

“ if he were a flame, he would barely burn a bush. “

“ I brought you here to take care of you. “

“ you are the source of our happiness, your majesty. “

“ your happiness is my happiness. “

“ come on, have some rest. “

“ your arms used to be a haven filled with happiness.”

“ this palace is filled with sorrow, and I’m scared of being alone in all this sorrow.”

“ I am hopelessly begging for your affection, of which you still deprive me.”

“ I apologize for my wrongdoing.”

“ i throw myself at your mercy.”

“ you disregarded me, you disregarded my choices, you put poison at my table. “

“ your majesty, it would be a great honor for our family. “

“ I will prepare a remedy for your stomach. “

“ let the palace hear it, I will have a son.”

“ I have news that will make your day shine even brighter.”

“ my son, my precious, you are going to have a sibling.”

“ I will give the good news to his majesty.”

“ how could a beautiful young girl like you do such a terrible thing ? “

“ they did equally terrible things to me, they have torn my heart apart.”

“ you are his majesty’s most precious. “

“ tell him about the fire burning inside of you.”

“ you cannot come in here unless you are summoned — get that through your head. “

“this is your home, you are always welcome here. “

“ there is another prince on the way. “

“ please don’t be sad.”

“ don’t be sad, I’m going to help you too.”

“ what did that snake tell you, that you went pale ? “

“ you are the oldest. you are going to be their big brother, you will guide them. “

“please don’t get upset, mother. I will never make you cry.”

“ she is the mother of my son. you are not allowed to be disrespectful. “

“ your father won’t talk to me. “

“ be careful, don’t drop my brother.”

“my beautiful daughter, i feel so sad for you. “

“ my prince is still so young. how can he carry such a burden ? “

“ I know it, my heart knows it. “

“don’t you like me, or is it just duty ? “

“ come and put this on for me. “

“ she was demanding to be shown the same respect they show you. “

“ choose well whom you will protect, and to whom you will show respect. choose well, so nothing bad might happen to you. “

“ a beautiful girl, like the moon. “

“ I hope the sun and the moon light her future, I hope she is never without light. “

“ I can’t save him any other way. “

“ will you now conduct your treachery from there ? “

“ is this how we were to meet ? “

“ were I to find that you were a traitor who tried to take my life ? “

“ don’t lie and lower yourself further. “

“ you will have no one to rely on except your mother, you are a part of me. “

“ but what can we do ? there is no life in this palace if you are not a man. “

“ your mother will love you. she will love you very much. “

“ mother, when will I see my sister ? “

“ you will see your sister tomorrow, I will take you. “

“ a wonderful life awaits our family. “

“ I am rejoicing, I wanted to share it with you. “

“ fate has left me defenseless in the face of a pair of beautiful eyes. “

“ what a beautiful turn of phrase. “

“ my beautiful, delicate daughter. you look like your mother. “

“ she is of my blood, of my life, she is a piece of the woman I love. “

“ she is my child too. there is no difference between a boy or a girl. “

“ don’t go yet, I have missed you so much. “

“ do not tire yourself out, I will visit again. “

“ he said that tomorrow may be too late. “

“ what if I can’t leave him once I see him ? “

“ we shall have a party, with music and dancing. “

“ I’m so bored. let’s go out for a bit. “

“ I have stepped up the wedding preparations, but they can only deliver the fabric that you like two weeks later. “

“ let’s move it to the spring, when the weather is warmer. “

“ I have dreamt of this night for so long. “

“ this is the last night we stand in the moonlight as victims of our own despair. “

“ I burn. I rebel against fate. “

“ we are celebrating his majesty’s return. would you like to join us ? “

“ they are all so happy when they see you, they admire you. “

“ where could she be at this time of night ? “

“ I have so much to tell you, but my tongue freezes. “

“ you said that we would leave this palace together. “

she   wishes   things   were   different.        that   he   had   come   underneath   different   circumstances,    and   that   war   did   not   loom   over   their   shoulders.    perhaps,    even   too,    that   she   could   change   them   if   she   wanted   it   badly   enough.    if   she   wanted   him   enough.    each   time   she   feels   his   fingers   underneath   her   own,    feels   the   weight   of   his   hand   on   top   of   hers,    there   is   a   reminder,    the   ever   present,    ever   nagging   feeling   within   her   that   this   was   little   more   than   a   winter's   dream.    something   that   would,    in   time,    fade   away   from   his   memory,    he'd   leave   to   return   home,    and   sansa   would   be   little   more   than   an   afterthought   every   once   in   a   while.    cregan   would   marry   her   off   to   one   of   his   bannermen,    someone   he   felt   the   need   to   honor,    someone   who   would   keep   an   ever   watchful   eye   on   the   betrayer   uncle's   daughter,    and   jace   would   be   king   one   day.    

but   just   as   sansa   is   prepared   to   resign   herself   to   the   inner   turmoil   of   such   a   thought,    his   words   grace   her        –        soften   stormy   eyes,       and   she   feels   her   cheeks   flush   red   anew.    surely,    he   couldn't   have   meant   that        .   .   .        and   yet,       she   had   not   known   him   to   say   things   merely   for   the   idea   of   saying   them,    for   only   playing   the   part   he   thought   everyone   wanted   to   hear.       there   is   a   gentle   exhale   of   breath   from   her   lips,    her   fingers   holding   to   his   a   little   tighter   in   return.        “   or   perhaps,    just   enough?   ”       a   flicker   of   grey   -   blue   eyes   up   to   look   at   him,    the   inflection   of   her   voice   bordering   along   a   line   they   have   not   dared   to   fully   cross.       a   careful   distinction   set   between   cordial,    proper   interaction   between   the   prince   and   a   highborn   lady,    and   the   almost   flirtatious   nature   of   her   tone. 

“   somewhere,    perhaps,    close   to   where   you   are,    your   grace?   ”        it   was   an   innocent   enough   question   on   its   own,    but   rooted   in   the   context   of   their   conversation,    rooted   in   mixed   signals   and   meanings   between   words   left   unsaid,    it   begged   another   question   altogether.    would   he   want   such   a   thing?    and   if   he   did       .   .   .       how   far   was   he   willing   to   go   to   achieve   it?     to   secure   her.       sansa's   fingers   curl   into   the   fabric   upon   his   shoulder,    hearing   the   soft,    ending   notes   of   the   song   they'd   been   dancing   to   begin   to   tumble   forth   from   the   bard.     far   too   soon,       she   did   not   yet   wish   to   remove   herself   from   his   closeness. 

Jace   felt   the   weight   of   Sansa’s   words   settle   over   him,   heavier   than   any   crown   he   might   one   day   wear.   He   had   come   to   Winterfell   on   matters   of   war,   of   duty,   and   yet   here,   in   her   presence,   those   burdens   seemed   to   blur.   The   way   her   voice   wavered   on   the   edge   of   something   more,   something   unsaid,   was   enough   to   pull   him   closer   to   the   edge   himself.

She   spoke   of   wanting   things   to   be   different,   of   the   looming   shadow   of   duty   that   hung   between   them,   but   it   was   her   final   question,   her   gaze   holding   his,   that   lingered   in   his   mind.   Would   he   want   such   a   thing?   Could   he   change   the   course   of   both   their   fates   if   he   wished   it   badly   enough?

The   answer   was   there,   in   the   way   he   couldn’t   bear   to   let   go   of   her   hand   even   as   the   music   slowed,   in   the   way   his   heart   tightened   at   the   thought   of   leaving   her   behind.   “I   do   not   speak   lightly,   nor   am   I   a   man   who   offers   empty   promises.   If   I   could   change   the   world   for   you,   I   would.”   He   paused,   his   gaze   never   leaving   hers,   his   hand   still   cradling   hers   between   them.   “I   have   no   desire   for   war   to   part   us,   nor   for   time   to   make   you   an   afterthought   in   my   memory.   You   are   far   more   than   that.”