Sansa turns away from the bar, drink in hand, and realizes she doesn’t see her friends anymore.
Where are Jeyne and Margaery? she wonders, scanning the crowd.
There are so many bodies twisting and and gyrating to the music it’s hard to make out where one ends and the next begins, let alone try to find her friends.
Losing them to the crowd is nothing new, so rather than worry she sips her drink and loses herself to the music.
She leans back against the bar and lets the rhythmic beats wash over her.
Her eyes drift closed and she can feel herself start to sway, surrendering to the music.
His melodic, husky voice trails goosebumps down her spine, and draws her eyes to the stage where the new performer stands.
He’s on a raised platform so he can see over the crowd, and Sansa finds herself moving forward.
She presses through the crowd of pulsing bodies, needing to be closer.
“My Northern Queen calls to me,
and ice fills my veins.
Her winter stare slices me
but soothes me like a prayer.”
Reaching the edge of the stage, Sansa pulls away from the crowd.
His eyes are drawn to her, and suddenly the room is without air.
Their eyes meet and they both lose sense of the world around them.
“The wolves are howling out
to the moon they cannot see.
My Northern Queen Beckons
And I know where I want to be.”
The song ends and the crowd goes wild, but neither Sansa or the mysterious singer notices.
He steps down from his platform and walks to the edge of the stage.
Sansa’s breath catches in her throat as he reaches down towards her. He places a hand on either side of her face and leans in to place a fierce kiss on her lips.
Everything shifts in that moment. The world shifts into a prefect crystalline clarity. Every detail becomes sharper than a razors edge.
When he draws back he’s wearing an expression of awe.
“I’m Tyrion,” he says breathlessly.
“Sansa,” she replies. “Care to join me for a drink?”
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