Chapter 52: What a Disappoi—

  “Hey, you’re out…” she said, a trace of nerves g her words.

  The dark stones of Winterfell flickered with torchlit stohat felt deceptively peaceful after the day’s turmoil. Each gust of night air carried the faint st of ash and old dust—remnants of the Ironborn’s short-lived occupation.

  I offered her a small, warm smile. “Why the long face?”

  Despite my success in stabilizing the castle and learning the Ironborn’s moves, there was much yet to do, and I had one more task tonight.

  Sansa's cheeks bore a soft redness, and I could sense some tension in the air. She caught my eye and cleared her throat, a memory of our earlier dispy before Theon’s eyes still evident in her posture.

  “Long fao, I was just thinking about some things…” she said. She didn't look like she minded our earlier as.

  “I see,” I looked up at the darkening sky. Night was here. “Let’s go somewhere private, Sansa. We o talk.”

  Her gaze flickered with curiosity and perhaps a flicker of worry. She nodded, guiding me along the corridor.

  We passed a scattering of northern guards who quickly averted their eyes; the news of a Targaryen andeering Winterfell was received with mixed feelings. Nobody showed disrespee since I did kill the Ironborn, but they weren't very weliher.

  Our footsteps were the only sound that exged between us. The torches lining the walls cast shadows that seemed to shrink away from us as we went, and I could feel Sansa’s closeness as she walked just ahead of me. Her red hair caught occasional glimmers from the fmes.

  Sansa came to a stop before a sturdy oak door. “This,” she cleared her throat, “this is my room. e in,” she said softly and ope, stepping ihe room beyond dimly lit by the faint glow of embers in a hearth.

  Must be fun, having servants prepare the hearth even before you tell them to. I was not particurly ri my previous life, and even as Viserys, I barely got to enjoy wealth because of the rebellion.

  I po make up for all that oake the throne.

  I followed her in, the door clig shut behihe chamber was small and oddly intimate, the walls draped in an artwork of the Stark sigil. The furniture was a simple table, a low bench, and a curtained bed. They spoke of fort rather than opulence. Winterfell was created for survival, not luxury.

  Nevermind, maybe it's not that fun to be a Lord in this world. I noted and she spoke, “Ah, give me a moment.” Sansa set to work at oending to the hearth.

  Within moments, newer fmes danced, chasing away the ers of darkness. It heated up the chamber well.

  e light flickered across her face, and her auburn hair gleamed like polished copper. Wheuro me, her blue eyes held both warmth aance. “Viserys… is something the matter? No, because you wao talk in private…”

  I allowed myself a brief, practiced smile. “Nothing’s wroly. I just wanted us some private time,” I crossed the room and sat beside her on a low benbsp;

  Even through her uainty, she seemed relieved at my calm tone. “Mhm… Well, we're alone now, hehe…”

  We began with a gentle versation and discussed how the day had finally brought peace to Winterfell, and how the city’s residents were learning to breathe again without the Ironborn’s shadow looming over every stone.

  “I'm… still scared, though?” she said, her eyes full of doubt as she looked at me. I was fused about what she was so worried for.

  “About what?”

  “About what Theon said.”

  Despite riding on top of a dragon, Sansa was worried that this peace will end. That Asha Greyjoy will put ao it all. I couldn't help but chuckle.

  “Seriously, Sansa?” I asked, “What are some stupid Irainst me and my dragon? You saw me beat the shit out of the Hound. You saw Viserion murder a dozen.”

  She cleared her throat at that, looking away in embarrassment as she realised how stupid she sounded.

  I gave her the time to think it through, both of us sitting beside the fire, the crag fmes creating a lovely atmosphere.

  “...You know,” A mier, she spoke up. “All this still seems like a dream. Its hard to believe I'm bae, whereas, just a few days ago, I was g from Joffrey's torture. It's all thanks to you.”

  “You're saying it like I had nothing to gain from it,” I ughed, throwing a piece of wood into the fire, aing my shoulder against hers. “I got myself an allia of it.”

  “Yes, but still~” she scowled pyfully. “It's the behaviour, you know? Someone else, and I 't imagine feeling this… blissful. It's all because of you.”

  “Is that so…?” I trained off, and she didn't reply. We stared at each other, our eyes looking deep, and I leaned closer.

  The space between us dwindled into something intimate.

  My fingers found Sansa’s hand, and her breath caught. I could sehe tension that never fully left her, a tremor born from captivity and trauma. She didn’t pull away though, letting my touch linger. “You’ve been through so much,” I said softly. “You deserve better than this cold castle… better than these burdens on your shoulders.”

  Her cheeks colored uhe glow of the fire. “W-what… You’ve done so mue already,” she whispered. “I don’t know what you're implying.”

  “Don't you?”

  She averted her eyes, ihroat. “Hey.. I don't even know how to thank you, but now you're saying this…”

  I let my hand rise to brush the curve of her jaw, feeling the heat of her skin. “You don’t o thank me, Sansa,” I said. “I am almost offended you're sidering it. Are we that distant that we o say those fancy words to each other?”

  “Uhm…”

  I leaned iing my lips graze hers in a soft, lingering kiss—testing the waters. Sansa blihere was a moment’s hesitation, but then she responded, her hands lifting to rest against my chest, her eyes closing under my touch.

  Time stretched as the kiss deepened. My hand slid down her side, the texture of her gown and the slight quiver iaelling me more than words ever could. I roamed her body, pulling her onto my p, dev her mouth while my hands went around her body, her curves.

  “Mmph~” she whimpered as I bit her lips, moving to lick her long neck. It was tasty. I hit down on her shoulders, while my hands squeezed her ass under her skirt.

  I lifted her up, holding her ass and raising her into the air. She gasped and I led to the bed, dropping her on her back. “Ahn!” She bounced on it as I loomed over her, my eyes appreciating her beauty.

  Sansa Stark was ripe and ready, her curves spilling out, begging to be savoured.

  I leaned foing for a kiss, our lips meeting once again, while my hands went into her skirt again. This time, they weween her legs, on her heat core.

  “Ahng- wait!” Just as I started pressing a little further, her palms fttened against me, a ge firm barrier. She broke away, breath ragged, face flushed.

  “Sansa?”

  “W-we ’t, Vis,” she managed, voice trembling. “Not before… not before marriage, please. My mother, she’d… she’d never five me.”

  I drew back, letting my expression darken just enough to feign a hint of hurt. Slowly, I stood up, turning away so she couldn’t see the flicker of… triumph in my eyes.

  “I see,” I said, iing a clipped tone. “I would’ve thought we had more than… just a political arra. Hah, fet it.”

  Her eyes widened, and she reached for me in arm. “No, please, I didn’t mean— Viserys, don’t be upset! I’m just—” She stumbled over her words, guilt and fusion knitting her brow.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said, looking at her from my shoulder. “I shouldn’t have assumed.” Then I stepped away, letting the chamber’s door open behind me.

  “Wait, please!”

  I cast one final g her, making sure she saw the pain in my expression. “Rest well, Lady Stark.”

  The door clicked shut, and I exhaled, the fa?ade slipping from my face. A slow, pleased smile pulled at my lips.

  Sansa’s rea pyed exactly into my pns—f just enough guilt to keep her tethered. I couldn't be the King who'd rule it all if I shared a passionate night with her so easily. Things had to be more difficult, and follow my pns. Especially with Yara Greyjoy soon ing.

  She’d spend the night sed-guessing her decision, grappling with whether her reluce had driven a wedge between us. That doubt would allow me to manipute her and stamp her away.

  ‘Why’re you mad I slept with someone else? Wasn't it you who pushed me way?’ – that was the result I was going for. A geionship with a highlord’s daughter wouldn't work.

  I'd decided otherwise from the very day I touched Arianne Martell.

  The corridor y empty, save for the distant flicker of torches and the faint hum of night wind through the outer windows. My footsteps echoed softly on the worn stones as I moved away from Sansa’s chamber.

  The Game of Thrones had multiple styles that one could choose to py from. I'd chosen the one where I'd domi only the kingdoms, but their families too.

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