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    Summary

    Anger was hardly a stranger to Sansa. Stone cold tendrils of fury wound themselves around her heart when her father was murdered before her eyes, and more vines had taken root over the years. It didn’t make the anger she felt now any less genuine, didn’t stop her head from pounding and her vision blurring slightly at the edges as she glared in outrage at Grey Worm.

    The mix of disdain and arrogance on Daenerys’ face had her wishing, not for the first time, that she was a braver woman, a skilled warrior like her sister. She wanted nothing more than to take the sword from the nearest knight and stick it straight through the chest of the spiteful Queen.

    But she couldn’t help Jaime if she was dead.

    -

    Or, the story of Jaime and Sansa reuniting in the North, and the difficulty of trying to rekindle a marriage whilst dealing with traitors, mad queens, undead armies, and nosey siblings.

    Language:
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