Have I made a full post for this? i don’t think that I have...

WELL if anyone is interested in reading my as-of-right-now 30k slowburn Dany x Sansa fic that is a vague redo of the last season of GOT where Dany & Sansa are rival queens (but also allies??) who are slowly learning that the other one is the only person in the world they actually trust or like, as they navigate two wars and ever-shifting factions and come to rely on each other as companions and confidants and advisors, here it is.

You’ll find inside: long, meandering reflections on family, trauma, and trust; a confusing game of truths and half-lies; warfare waged through the subtleties of language and titles. You’ll find (eventually) some smut, dragon-riding, warfare, negotiations, some light choking, some vengeance and perhaps even some murder! it’s going to be a romping good time i think

But if it Had to Perish Twice

Chapter count: 4/?

Word count: 31,000

Rating: M

Pairing: Daenerys/Sansa

She can feel the Queen’s eyes on her, but Sansa does not wither, she does not falter. When she was younger perhaps she would have cowed under the attention. But she is not young anymore, not in years and certainly not in life. She is old, and tired, and she’s faced down more terrifying women than Daenerys Targaryen.

“Lady Stark,” the Queen says, and for the first time there is something hard in her voice. It might be ice, or it might be fire. The world is bound to end in one. “Please speak freely,” the Queen says, but Sansa knows a demand when she hears it. “Is a marriage of political significance truly something you want, or is it a responsibility you feel has fallen to you, one you cannot ignore or brush aside?”

Sansa doesn’t understand the question. Sansa does not want for herself. She’s long since learned the price of dreams, the cost of hope. She is battle-hardened, the same as Jon. She knows only survival. She was built for it, being born of the North.

“What’s the difference?”

...I forgot I've been stress writing this like mad

Calling Jin Zixuan a peacock was perhaps too strong an insult. Perhaps Wei Wuxian shouldn’t have been muttering it under his tongue so often when the Lanling Jin sect heir unnerved him. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so quick to punch his face and stain his lips red.

Perhaps, Wei Wuxian shouldn’t have called him a: “Swaggering peacock, spoiled and dumb as the rest of the caged freak fuck-birds.”