Chapter Text
Jon
The calm ambience of the waves and wind of the ocean was broken as two great cries erupted in the sky. Watching from the rowboat as the shore of Dragonstone got closer, Jon and Daenerys both watched Drogon swoop down to the cliffs where Rhaegal and Viserion were nestled. From this far away, one would think the dragons were talking to another. They moved to their voices, almost like gestures.
Jon could feel himself smile just a little. He worried deeply that at least one of the dragons would fall in battle. But there they were, together and alive.
"There they are," said Daenerys.
Eyes shifting to the shore, Jon saw a vast number of people gathering on the beach to bring them in. Dothraki, Unsullied, and even some of his own men who had been mining the dragonglass for months. Among them were Tyrion, Varys, and Sansa.
Sansa… He didn't overlook how his heart skipped a beat at seeing her, just as he did whenever catching sight of Daenerys.
Guilt welled in him - he would have to tell her the truth. "Daenerys," Jon started.
"Yes?"
"There's something you should know. Before I left with Rhaegal, Sansa saw me off and…" somehow this was somehow more terrifying than fighting the Bolton Army. How did his ancestors handle more than one woman? "Things happened in a way I didn't think they would. I… kissed her." Daenerys didn't say anything, in fact she didn't really react at all. "She loves me, Dany, and I love her… I love her."
He didn't know what to expect from Daenerys, whether she would yell at him, slap him… anything except giggling as happy as she was. Jon's face twisted in confusion as she touched her hand over his.
"I think I understand now," she whispered.
"Understand what?" Jon asked.
Daenerys smiled at him. "Give it time. Something tells me we're all about to."
Jon scoffed but ended in a smile, leaning on his knees. "If this is leading into some mockery of being a thick headed northman-"
"Honestly, that mocks itself." Daenerys laughed at his scowl and held onto his arm, resting her head on his shoulder. "You'll see."
The tide brought them the rest of the way. The oarsmen stored the oars once they were finally able to leap out of the boat and pull it the rest of the way to shore. Jon stepped out and helped Daenerys out, still keeping her injuries in mind despite how well his treatments worked on her.
"Daenerys!" Sansa rushed forth and hugged Daenerys soft but firmly, treating her with care.
"Sansa," he heard Daenerys gasp. "You flew! You're a dragonrider!" The astonishment was coupled with elation. "I never would have believed it if I didn't see it," she laughed.
Jon smiled as he looked at this, something he hoped for long ago finally became a reality. Part of him wondered how much the old Sansa would be gagging at this if she still hadn't swallowed her pride yet.
The old Sansa was gone though, the hardened facade left behind by Ramsay's cruelty had been broken early. Inadvertently, he had helped her heal, and what remained was the sister he'd always dreamed of having.
They hugged once again before Sansa turned to Jon and simply rushed to him. Since he hadn't been injured, she held back nothing and her arms crushed him with a surprising strength - Jon unable not to feel how his cousin's womanly body melded flush against his own. "You did it," she whispered with tear filled eyes.
Jon returned the embrace, enjoying Sansa's softness. The familiar comfort of his Northern upbringing. "We did it." He corrected, smiling back at her. He turned his head and saw Melisandre smiling warmly at them, also like she was on the verge of tears. It was strange, Jon thought, this was the first time he could recall her looking truly happy about anything. Not proud or content, but joyful. "Euron's dead," he told them all. "His fleet is either fleeing or taken by Yara and Theon."
"Well congratulations, your grace," Tyrion said pleasantly and relieved. It seemed that hearing the actual confirmation of the former Ironborn King's death was what everyone needed to hear to finally relax somewhat. "I never doubted you, only feared for worse. I am most pleased for how lucky our outcome is."
"We all are," Varys corrected swiftly, eyeing Jon the same ways as Melisandre was. Did they both know something?
The hike up the many steps was a long journey. Tyrion had fallen back to converse with Ser Jorah, asking the Bear Knight to regale him of the battle up close while Melisandre led the way with Varys. The Unsullied guard who stood by at the great doors to the keep fell to one knee the moment Daenerys came in sight.
Entering inside, some of the lingering smell from the dragonfire inflicted lingered.
"Your grace," came the voice of Lady Missandei as she limped around the corner, one hand and the side of her forehead bore visible bandages - the gods only knew where else she was wrapped tightly from what the Ironborn did to her.
"Missandei!" Daenerys cried out, rushing over to her handmaiden and huggly her gently. "Iksan sīr biare bona iksā daor morghe," her High Valyrian spilled so instantly from her lips.
"Sīr iksin nyke, Daenērys," Missandei replied in turn. Her brown eyes found Jon and she slowly approached him. "King Aegon," she started softly.
"Are you alright, my lady?" Jon was not there that day when Cersei made the greatest mistake for all of King's Landing, but there were many times he wished he had been, maybe being able to say or do something that could have spared her and Daenerys.
She shook her head, her curls bobbing with the movement. "No broken bones. Plenty of cuts and bruises, but I will heal from it."
"The scars will fade over time," said Sansa, offering great sympathy, "even the deeper ones you have."
Missandei understood. "They didn't touch me. Not… that way." Swallowing, Missandei shifted in her place. "Your grace, I…" Missandei took a deep breath, "I wasn't fair to you as a guest in your house, or as a person to another. I'm sorry that I did not spare to see you as anything more than a thief. I was wrong."
Jon shook his head. "There's nothing to forgive, Missandei. And dwelling on it won't mend the damage, trust me on that. You did what you felt was right, and your intentions were clear. You love your queen."
Some tension left her face as she smiled at him. "Thank you for saving her, Aegon." She looked over at Sansa. "I never got a moment to ask you, but Grey Worm told me that you were riding Viserion. How is this possible?"
Sansa shrugged. "He came to King's Landing and I just had a feeling. It was one of the strongest I've ever had. I can't explain it better than that to be honest."
Melisandre chuckled joyfully. "The greatest victory is not defeating an army of Ironborn and their dark leader, but the uniting of you three."
Jon, Daenerys, and Sansa all looked at her confused. "What do you mean?" Sansa asked.
"Come with me. There is something you must see." Much of the damage Drogon and Viserion inflicted remained, but it could be rebuilt. Dragonstone was built to withstand dragons after all. As they walked through the castle corridors, Melisandre spoke. "There is a prophecy we have believed for thousands of years. The Prince who was Promised shall bring the dawn. But only in recent years have we realized our fault in understanding."
"I'm shocked." The sarcastic comment from Daenerys made them all chuckle.
Even Melisandre snickered a bit. "It was not referring to a prince himself, but perhaps a princess. And then not either, but both. And now, not two, but more." The doors of the throne hall were opened and they proceeded inside. Melisandre said to them, bringing about a mystifying silence, "there is a destiny in place for all of us, but the three of you are the centerpoint of it all."
"The three of us?" Sansa asked, appearing as though she were out of place. A wolf in the court of dragons.
Even if she had ridden one.
Melisandre smiled softly and looked over at the wall behind them. Jon, Daenerys, and Sansa turned around and lost all breath at what they saw hanging from the wall.
It was a tapestry that covered the entire wall, displaying a scene of a calm peace and at the same time a triumphant victory. The fields of golden grass on Dragonstone under a swift sunrise, stone gray clouds were cold but the gold from the reflected sun burst with warmth behind covering the silver sky. Three silhouettes of dragons soared high above where no arrow or scorpion bolt could reach.
In the center of it all, embracing the warmth and glory of the light, were three people, one man and two women at his side. All three were silver-haired and purple-eyed. The man and the woman on his left were both dressed in beautiful black and red armor and had swords at their sides while the woman on the right was garbed in a beautiful black and red dress.
At the bottom center border was the name of the tapestry. Visenya, Aegon, and Rhaenys.
What took everyone out of their belief in reality were the faces of the three Valyrians. Aegon had a near perfect semblance to Jon though a bit more thickly built and taller, Visenya was a near perfect semblance to Daenerys albeit taller as well, and Rhaenys was a near perfect semblance of Sansa but with flowing silver hair instead of bright red.
"Did you have this made?" Jon asked.
"I didn't," Melisandre told him. "This was found in the cellars with many other relics of House Targaryen, hidden from the hands of those who would have destroyed them. The Conqueror and his wives after his forging of the Seven Kingdoms. And now here you three stand, reborn and united.
"But it doesn't make sense," Jon said, "the prophecy says a prince and princess."
"And like languages," Varys broke in, "translations can be finicky if you don't get every detail. First it was the Prince who was Promised, and then High Valyrian turned it into the Prince or Princess. But then Ancient Valyrian transformed it further, for before the Dragonlords of the Freehold, there were no Kings or princes among Valyrians." He presented the broken blade from under his sleeve. "The Prince who was Promised shall Bring the Dawn. To the First Valyrians, the morning sun was the Lord of Light, King of Sky and Stars, and his children, the princes and princesses of light were the dragons. The Dragon shall herald its King."
Jon tensed when he realized it. The answer was there before him. One prophecy but two depictions. If only the other half of the sword was with them then it would have been quite a poetic moment… A sudden realization occurred to him. The Raven relayed to him that Azor's half was stolen and melted into two daggers… it couldn't be.
"Daenerys," he said softly, "Sansa, your daggers." all eyes went ot the the belts of both women. "Lightbringer has been brought back together."
"What?" Sansa asked, drawing the Catspaw dagger just as Daenerys drew hers. "It can't be… can it?"
Melisandre began to quietly whisper a prayer to the Lord of Light with joy in each and every word.
"Now the question remains," said Tyrion, "which of them is the dragon?"
Varys smirked at Tyrion. "Se zaldrīzes ēza hāre bartosi."
"The dragon has three heads," Daenerys translated.
The Spider nodded once at her. "Such words haunted my dreams the day a warlock cast my bits into the fires. I have never understood it, until today. Three heads of one body. Together, They are the Dragon who will bring the Dawn."
"Ice," Melisandre gestured her hand at Sansa, "fire," she then pointed to Daenerys, "and the bridge that unites them." She finished, pointing at Jon. "Light."
"But I don't understand," Jon said, looking straight at Melisandre. "Why didn't this happen the first time?"
"First time?" Tyrion asked, perplexed just as Varys and Missandei became.
Melisandre shook her head, "so it could happen now. Everyone is who they are and where they are for a reason."
Jon looked back at the tapestry, locking eyes with those of Aegon the Conqueror's, almost feeling a connection through them. Was it true? Everything he was now could only be real because of the pain he had to suffer?
Taking in a breath, Jon felt his shoulders relax. He saved Daenerys, Sansa, Rickon, Bran, all of them from fates for worse. If his suffering was the price to pay, then it was already well returned.
"Yes, we are," he agreed. "It couldn't have been any other way." Turning around, he found that Sansa and Daenerys were just as perplexed as one another as they looked up at the tapestry.
"Perhaps it would be best if you had some time alone to talk about this," Tyrion advised, "any of us would be a liar to say we might try to understand how this feels…" He quietly turned on his heel with a bow and departed with Varys, Missandei, and Melisandre following behind him. Ser Jorah bowed his head and followed suit until it was just the three remaining.
"Um," Jon didn't know where to start really, but when he tried, Daenerys held up a hand.
"Not here. It's… a bit too vast." A small awkward smile crossed her lips as the echoes of her words traveled throughout.
Sansa
She could feel her heart beating out of her chest. By the Old Gods, why did this feel worse than flying into battle upon Viserion's back? As Daenerys opened the door to her private chambers, Sansa was glad that neither her nor Jon asked anything of her at that moment.
It was truly hard to find what it was to say.
Immediately upon entering, Daenerys went over to the silver pitcher on her table and poured a quick cup of wine. "Well that was certainly a revelation."
Feeling how dry her mouth was, Sansa quickly poured her own cup and downed it, the warmth as it burned down her gullet strangely refreshing. "It feels," she managed to finally say, the words getting easier as they came out. "Like the first time I saw your scars, Jon," said Sansa. "But I'm not sure what to think about this."
"Sansa?" Jon asked.
The grip on her cup tightened. "I was told that I had let go of you if we wanted to win… What if that still means true?"
"Was this before you rode on a dragon and defied the world over?" Daenerys asked, setting her cup down and walking up to Sansa. "Who told you this?"
Sansa's brow raised in a form of shrug. "Myself, the me Jon knew before he woke up."
Jon was awestruck in that revelation.
Sansa went to Daenerys, taking her hands. "I want to believe in this, that we are the three heads of one." Something flickered in Daenerys' violet eyes, and a tiny, innocent smile of pure joy tugged on the corners of her lips. "He and I do need to talk, but I want you to stay. I don't want secrets between us anymore."
Daenerys appeared to be trembling, but then Jon barely noticed that it was Sansa's hands that were shaking instead. Jon watched the two women hugging close with their bodies flush together, faces buried in each other's necks and eyes shut tight. It was a gesture far too intimate to be merely platonic friendship. "Alright. I'll stay here with you." She walked there and quietly sat on the soft furs over the bed, folding her arms over her lap.
It was then that Sansa took Jon's hand again, her expression… quite shy as she bit her lip. They looked at each other, both of them feeling just a little scared of what to say.
"San-"
"Jo-"
They both spoke at the same time, stopping when they both interrupted each other and smiling at the awkward attempt to break the tension.
"Sansa…"
She kissed him. It was quick, but plenty of passion behind it, hands grabbing his tunic. Bunching up the fabric. Pulling back, the two blushed, eyes flickering to Daenerys… her smile was gentle, but her eyes were searching.
It was Sansa that responded to that with a hesitant chuckle. A sigh followed. "We said much, Jon. Before you rode off to war."
"We did."
"A lot has changed since then, I feel…"
"What I think she's trying to say," Daenerys cut in, as if seeking to rescue Sansa from her turbulent emotions. "Is that there's a joyful end as the journey reaches its conclusion."
Nodding, Sansa smiled at Daenerys. "Aye." Two sets of eyes were on her, waiting for her to continue. Sansa sucked in a breath, steeling herself. "I'm sorry, Jon." He blinked, only for her to bury her head into the crook of his neck, weeping softly. She was taller than him, but Jon held her as if she was a little girl seeking love. "I know I've said it before, but I can't beg for forgiveness enough… I never deserved someone like you."
"Please, don't speak of that…"
While her words said one thing, her hold on him tightened. As if Sansa never wanted to let him go. "You saved me from becoming someone horrible that I almost could not see from myself."
As she trailed off, Jon looked at Daenerys. Her smile was sad, and she gestured for him to continue. He sighed, knowing he had to tell the truth. "Sansa," Jon took control and her other hand in his, "I'm sorry I haven't been the man you needed me to be. I've been keeping hold of the past for too long."
She pulled back, looking up at him. "I don't blame you."
"After what happened to me… after the events of my past, I thought you irredeemable for too long. That you were always intended to become the woman who betrayed me." It hurt Jon to the core at seeing Sansa shrink back, absorbing the hits - especially because she felt she deserved it. "But that woman is gone." He took a deep breath, "and I love you."
The moment the words left his mouth, Sansa, with eyes tearing up, quickly reached her hands to his cheeks and pulled him into a deep kiss. It was so unlike their first on their parting for battle. That had been a sign of apology and farewell. Now it was of embrace and love. Neither of them fought it, but delved into each other's touch as if they had been denied this for a hundred years.
With a grunt, Jon picked her up, or rather it was a perfectly timed catch as she pounced on him. Her dress wasn't too thick and parted when she wrapped her legs around him. Their kiss never wavered, gripping his shoulders. She squealed when Jon dumped her upon the bed next to Daenerys. Both sets of eyes looked over her. "I never imagined I'd be here," Jon spoke. "With you like this."
The words had a deeper meaning for him. Every ounce of doubt, anger, and pain he had held onto for so long drained out of him and his spirit felt lighter than he ever felt it to be in his entire life. Thankfully, Daenerys spoke for all of them. "Let's not waste this night. Let's start a new life for all of us here."
Sansa gasped slightly and her breathing became short and fast.
"Sansa," Jon said but Sansa shook her head.
"Do not worry." She looked at him and then Daenerys. "I am a wolf. I won't be afraid to love." She sat up and began to undress Jon couldn't help but watch at first, noticing that her body was not as believing in her words as she said. It was only hesitant movements that told him that she was frightened, whether she knew it or not. But her dress was finally dropped and Jon made to remove his shirt. Removing her smallclothes and bearing herself to their gaze. Jon, in the midst of undressing himself, paused. Staring at her as she stood covering herself with her arms with her eyes to the ground.
Daenerys had beaten her out, and her near divinity was on full display as she stood bravely before both of them, waiting, welcoming. "Jon," she walked over to Sansa and gently touched her at the shoulder and the hand covering her pale breasts and brought her closer to Jon so they were less than an arm's length away. "Show her how you feel… who she is to you. She needs to know." And so Jon did. Sansa hadn't time to marvel over his beauty before he was atop her, wrapping his arms behind her back, trailing up and down her soft skin. Kissing down her neck, stoking a fire inside that had never been there before.
Sansa's body mewled and stretched out luxuriously and contentedly as Jon's weight pushed them onto the soft warm furs of the bed A quizzical expression formed on her face when she felt the weight leave. A different sort reappeared as she opened her eyes, only to find an equally nude Daenerys in Jon's place. "Daenerys?"
The Dragon Queen smiled sultrily. Her figure pressed flush against her, causing Sansa's breath to hitch. Daenerys grinned and crossed the gap and kissed her without a single moment of hesitation between them. Sansa could only sigh into the kiss, comparing it to Jon in a favorable light. Softer, slenderer, yet no less powerful and passionate in its desire to feast upon her mouth. Sighs were replaced by moans as Daenerys trailed a fine hand over Sansa's supple curves. Everything electrifying.
The kiss broke, "You are so beautiful." The words shivered out of Sansa's mouth. Sansa grabbed the nape of Daenerys' neck and pulled her down, melding their mouths together again. Her other arm grazed down her back, while Daenerys' fingers cupped Sansa's cheek. Twisting in her hair, tugging at it. Marveling at it. Moans leaving the Targaryen's lips and muffled by their kiss. From how she ground her hips against Sansa's skin, it was clear the woman above her was entranced by her.
Jon and Daenerys. The two Targaryens lusted for her. It was a heady feeling that she avoided for so long, but not anymore.
The kiss not breaking, Sansa felt Daenerys' other hand trailing down her side. How? How could it feel so wonderful? From a woman, no less? Somehow the friendship she had shared with Margaery in King's Landing was put into question, the friendly banter in hindsight. Perhaps she'd have been happier had she known what she knew now.
"Sansa…" she heard Daenerys rasp needily. Sansa blinked and looked upon Daenerys' face. It was determined but also desperate. It left them both warbling, a mess upon the bed as they lost themselves in their passion.
Entwined with a lover, Daenerys and Jon both. Sensual and loving in a manner she simply had never experienced before. Daenerys and Jon merely wished to please her, and took the greatest of pleasure as she pleased them back.
Daenerys' eyelids, once forced shut, fluttered open with a heady violet stare affixed on Sansa as she gasped out her pleasure. One joined by movement of her fingers that sent Sansa into seeing dragonfire.
The first time she had ever done that. Felt that.
"I love you," she heard, Daenerys' eyes filled with emotion.
Sansa's heart hitched. "I love you too." It came easy to say it back, although perhaps later she might wish to think about it. The heavy breathing beside them certainly gave incentive to continue forward.
Daenerys beckoned Jon, shifting off of Sansa. She crawled to kiss him, to which he did. Sansa's eyes widened as he took the fingers that had so pleased her and licked them clean.
Sansa's heat stoked hotter than ever, unquenched. Especially as Jon came to her and did the same with her fingers before kissing her. "Mmmmm…" The familiar feeling only comforted her beating heart, but as he tried to climb upon her she stopped him with a hand upon his chest.
Sansa's body began to shiver, but not in pleasure. A terrible yet familiar sensation of fear began to creep from within her body to every inch of her. Her eyes shut and she gasped as the horrible memories of her night's with Ramsasy surfaced in her mind.
"My loving wife!" She cried into the floor, wood cold against her cheek as the man behind her savagely tore through her insides.
"No!"
"Sansa?" It was Jon's voice, and she saw him looking up at her with the greatest concern.
"Sansa." A gentle kiss on the neck distracted her, and she opened her eyes. It was Daenerys, and just then she realized that Daenerys had wrapped her arms around Sansa's waist. She felt so soft and good. No chance a woman's intimate touch could remind her of Ramsay "It's alright."
She looked at Jon, her beautiful brother quiet and simply looking at her as if she were an angel. It made tears form in Sansa's eyes, especially since… "I… I still see…"
Another kiss, and a gentle touch of her fingers against Sansa's cheek. Daenerys' voice was as soft as a morning cloud. "You must look in his eyes, always. Love comes in at the eyes."
Biting her lip, she met his eyes, locking firmly. The Stark greys were stormy. Dark. Desirous, but in them Sansa could see only one brought by love in its purest. Not the urge to inflict terror or vengeance. I trust him. I love him. Never would Sansa see those eyes as anyone but Jon's.
Jon's fingers intertwined with hers of her left hand as he sank down and kissed her deeply. Sansa's free arm wrapped around his neck as their tongues danced together, slowly drifting down the warmth of his back. It was then she was ready.
It was a slow moment, one that filled her with pleasure and bliss as she sank down onto Jon. They were together now, as lovers.
They never broke eye contact until Sansa tilted her head back, grabbing her hair and moaning. She grabbed it and drew it up. Each time she sunk on him, or met him, the little grunts passing his lips swelled her heart.
Daenerys straddled Jon's head, allowing him to feast on her. The expression changed to one of relief and bliss upon their lover, Jon working at her. "Oh, Jon…"
"Daenerys." Sansa knew this was of the lewdest things imaginable, more akin to Littlefinger's brothel than what should've been an expression of love. But Sansa didn't care. It was right, it was perfect. The way she rode Jon. The way Daenerys' fingers tangled in her hair. The way Jon kept one grip on her hip and one upon Daenerys', as if he couldn't be parted from either of them.
Three heads of the Dragon. Fire, Ice, and the Light that bridged them together.
She hadn't much experience, but certainty was about her for the first time in a long while. When each of them erupted in their end, truly it was the greatest pleasure she would ever feel.
Daenerys stilled Sansa with a kiss.
"Daenerys…"
"Please. Trust him." Her smile calmed Sansa's thumping heart.
Biting her lip, Sansa looked down to Jon before back at Daenerys. Nodding her head.
He stared up at her, grey meeting blue. A gaze so intense that even surrounding him in the most filthy of manners, Sansa blushed like the maiden she had long ago been. Gingerly, he rose to touch her sides. To which Sansa felt a sudden boldness and grabbed his wrists. Bringing them to her breasts and sighing at how wonderful his calloused skin felt against hers. Nothing like Daenerys' soft ones, but equally wondrous.
Something feral left Jon's lips and he promptly thrust deep into her warmth. Burying himself to the hilt. Sansa's walls trembled at the sudden intrusion, a slight scream of pleasure leaving her. It felt wonderful, so amazing.
He said nothing. Nothing needed to be said. Jon merely pulled her down, Sansa slipping forward. Their lips locked and she moaned at the contact. Breasts mashed against his chest, a particularly heady thrust scraping them on his skin. She gasped into his mouth, near the edge.
Words were lost on her, instead babbling inside her own mind. Sansa pleaded with her eyes to Jon, never looking away from him, nails digging into his flesh. This was desperate, hard. Close to overwhelming her and shoving her into the mattress below.
But she saw not the man of her nightmares, only the King of her dreams. Her body sang, Sansa encircling Jon's hips with her slender legs and encouraging him to rut. To take her, a woman for him to claim.
A new feeling pierced her haze as Daenerys' hand slipped between their bodies. Grabbing at her own palm to squeeze it. Daenerys, captured her lips in a searing kiss as her other hand pleasures herself.
Jon growled and grabbed one of Sansa's legs, hooking it over his shoulder. She screamed into Daenerys' mouth. Somehow, Jon slid even deeper at this angle, the incredible wash of color heralding the pinnacle of release that made her body tremble as her core exploded with fire and pleasure.
Bonelessly, Jon seemed to collapse atop her. At first it felt lovely, calming. Jon was protective atop her, but a squeeze of Daenerys' hand drew Sansa's attention to the put out glance upon her silver dragon's face. It made her chuckle, though the act was hard with Jon's weight atop her and the pleasure she felt whenever he twitched in her sensitive heat.
Jon pushed himself up on his elbows. Staring at Daenerys with hunger, only for a concerned look to fill his eyes at her.
Sansa leaned up and kissed him gently. Jon nodded and slowly extracted himself from her. She winced, immediately missing him and sighing her bliss.
"Come here, Jon," Daenerys urged, laying on her back with hand outstretched towards him. Sansa watched as she spread her legs for Jon, a desire and slight jealousy filling her. Propping herself up on her elbow and content to stare at their naked forms intertwined, mouths locking together in a luscious kiss.
Daenerys, with her expert knowledge of her own body.
Jon, knowing intimately Daenerys' body and how to play it like a fiddle.
It was fascinating.
She couldn't resist, sliding closer to aunt and nephew. Raised to believe the ancient Targaryen custom being sin and perfidy, Sansa only felt lust at the sight of it. Skin tingling as it made contact with Jon's arm and Daenerys' side, gasping at the look of rapture when Jon slid into Daenerys so seamlessly.
The Targaryen Queen opened her mouth to gasp, only for Sansa to lean in and kiss her hard. It was irresistible, and the action made them moan, as well as stilling Jon, the grey eyes watching hungrily before he finally resumed what he started. Sansa grinned against Daenerys' lips when the Queen gripped her arm tight.
Sansa pulled away to stare at Jon. their eyes locked and everything felt in sync between the three of them. Jon's eyes flickered back to Daenerys, the powerful Queen exposed as the young woman she was.
Thank the gods it wasn't too late for the three of them.
Sansa leaned down and suckled at Daenerys breast and massaged the other with her hand. She felt Daenerys wrap her arm over Sansa's body and a thumb caressed her cheek softly.
It was as it was with her. Jon, as sweet and loving as he was inclined to be, snapped at Sansa's words. He could not be blamed for all restraint leaving him. Jon snapped his hips sharply, filling Daenerys up with his length.
Daenerys' leg now wrapped back around him, encouraging him. Sansa knew the feeling. Enjoying being utterly at his mercy, knowing only pleasure was forthcoming. Begging for him to just take her. Oh, they were so blessed.
Jon gripped her hips, trying to angle himself so as to touch that spot inside Daenerys that apparently drove her wild. Sansa loved hearing the moans and purrs from Daenerys at every thrust. The noises of sheer ecstasy almost had her falling over the edge then and there.
Septa Mordane would've fainted hearing the filthy thoughts poisoning Sansa's mind. She couldn't bring herself to feel any guilt.
This was her new life, a wonderful life. A life Sansa was more determined than ever to live, to vanquish the Night King and survive. It made her surge forward, the determination forcing her lips upon Daenerys'. Kissing her savagely just as the Targaryen Queen screamed her glorious rapture as Jon came inside Daenerys.
Lust had finally been sated and passions had faded into something more akin to a gentle, simmering bath of love, Sansa found herself beneath the furs. Tugged close to Jon's side as Daenerys was across his chest, their man not letting either of them go. Never before had she felt so rested. So content. How much time had passed? Was it morning? Was it the night of the next day? It felt like an eternity had passed by.
Perhaps her feelings had manifested in hurried rushes after moons of buildup, but they were there and they were real. Her first experience of being truly cherished intimately. The stories she read as a child spoke of a heady rush, but this was not that. More a warming, calming blanket, but no less heady.
The last of her pain washed away, replaced with a true joy.
It brought out a part of her that Sansa never thought of being within herself - a flirty, teasing side as she snuggled against Jon, pressing her bare chest into his hard muscles. Reaching out with her fingers to ghost her nails against the soft, pale skin of Daenerys' rear. "Oooh." Sansa could feel Daenerys squirm against Jon from her touches, unable not to grin slightly. "Naughty in touch as lecherous Jon is in gaze." That drew a soft chuckle from their man.
Sansa bit her lip. "I should hope that the Dragon Queen does not mind."
"She emphatically does not mind, Lady Stark."
"You have no complaints from me." Hearing Jon's words, Sansa leaned up and kissed his strong chin. Her powerful prince, the one she dreamed of - he had grown up with her this whole time. If only I had known, had mother known. Would've saved everyone so much pain and heartbreak. Seven Hells, what her mother would say if she walked in on them this very instant. The whole world would burst into flame from her wrath.
But providence led them to a glorious endpoint regardless. Her attention turned back to Daenerys, whose fingers caressed her thigh. "Where'd you learn to do those things with Jon and how to be so good with another woman?" Sansa noticed Jon raise his brow, curious on the matter as well.
Daenerys chuckled sheepishly. "Among the Dothraki, it is custom for their Khals to take many wives and concubines to augment their Khaleesis."
"I thought you were Drogo's only wife?"
To this the dragon queen blushed. "My brother purchased a slave for me prior to marrying Drogo. A former Lysene bedslave by the name of Doreah." The last was spat out, to which Sansa surmised that this Doreah was not a pleasant memory for Daenerys. "But before she met her end, she instructed me to please Drogo… as well as preparing me for that environment of being one Khaleesi among others." She giggled. "The nights when we would have to sate ourselves when our husband was gone for his hunts and battles. To her regard, I was a good student."
Sansa understood. "Oh."
"Doreah taught me some things to help 'get along' with the other women that would have been Drogo's. Said it would… lessen the conflict and backstabbing among the women."
"Does it work?"
"Not always, according to their history, but often." Daenerys bit her lip, running her hand down Sansa's curves. "Worked out for me, I suppose, in a different way. I should hope we always trust each other."
"We will." Sansa's fingers squeezed Daenerys'. "It is I that hopes that… I improve my skills in the bedchamber." A sigh left her. "My experiences were never good ones, and I learned nothing."
Daenerys' fingers squeezed hers now. "your ardor and passion are more than enough." she leaned over to Sansa's ear. "I can teach you what I know, some things you can use on Jon especially." Beautiful violet eyes looked at their man. "Jon?"
He simply gazed upon them with reverence. "Never would I have ever thought myself so blessed by the gods," he said, voice hoarse with love.
The redhead sighed wonderfully, nuzzling his chest. "Jon." Her voice was muffled against his muscles. "Never leave us. Promise me."
She felt him kiss her brow. "I'll do my best."
"No, promise us," Daenerys pleaded. "We're not losing you when we just got you." She was right. Sansa knew not the deep longing that came with years of isolation, forced to know the loneliness of one's own doing. That didn't make the prospect of losing Jon or Daenerys any less painful.
Jon sighed, pulling Sansa closer to him. Not close enough - nothing could ever be close enough for her. "I don't intend on ever leaving you. Every night in the True North, I longed for warmth, knowing only now that such warmth was only the two of you."
Sansa could do nothing but hug him tightly. Never planning to let him go one day without knowing her love for him.
He was her salvation, and as sleep began to lure her in, Sansa's last thought was that she would do the same for him if he needed it. And a gentle shadow of sleep took her as every inch of her skin and every fiber of muscle felt relaxed and warm within.
"Sansa," Jon's voice came softly, "wake up."
Eyelids fluttering open, Sansa lifted her head from the feather pillow and saw Jon kneeling next to her at the side of the bed, dressed in just his breeches and with her cloak in his arms. "Is it morning already?"
"Not yet. You need to come and see this." He handed her cloak over to her and walked over to Daenerys' side of the bed, waking her too just as Sansa touched her toes to the stone floor and stood up. Her knees almost faltered, but she found her balance. Barely.
Together, Sansa and Daenerys followed Jon over to the window of the solar. Jon pointed outwards to the sky which was just starting to grow bright with the first light.
"Look," Jon said.
Sansa looked out to the sky and gasped when she saw a sight that she had only seen years ago once before when she lived at the Red Keep.
Blazing across the sky like a crimson tear of the sun was the red comet, bright and powerful in shape just as it had been the first time she saw it.
"It's beautiful," Daenerys said softly.
"The Free Folk believe it's an omen of dragons," Jon said, "and I believe it."
Notes:
translations
"Iksan sīr biare bona iksā daor morghe," - "I am so happy that you are not dead,"
"Sīr iksin nyke, Daenērys," - "So am I, Daenerys."