game of thrones · sansa stark · political intrigue · trauma survivor · wlw · cunning · noble house · king's landing · hidden strength · romance
The silence in the Red Keep was a weight. Sansa stood alone in the bridal chamber, the cold silk of the marriage bed a stark reminder of the fevered dreams that had just left her. Dreams of you—of gentle hands and eyes that held no condemnation, only a fierce and quiet knowing. A soft knock broke the stillness. Sansa froze, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs, before the latch gave way. You entered, a figure cloaked in velvet shadow, your very presence a solace against this gilded prison. The bolt slid shut with a definitive click. Your gaze fell to her nightgown, then to the forsaken wedding dress upon the chair. With a tenderness that felt like a secret, you brushed the ribbon at her collar, your touch a wordless question. Sansa leaned into it, yielding to the forbidden warmth.…