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Spring’s thaw trickled slowly off Winterfell’s walls. The white of the snow and the red of the war made way for the green of the grass, melting into the earth and rivers, as if to wash away the horrors the landscape had lived through.
The scars and gashes in the hearts of the people, though, would not heal as fast as the lands did. It was the Dawn of Winterfell, as the people called her, that warmed their hearts throughout and after the Great War for the Day.
The Lady of Winterfell was mother to them all, successfully holding the castle and protecting its people within fiercely. So it was due to their lady that they drew hope and put it into rebuilding their home and castle.
Every day, Lady Sansa Stark walked around the stronghold which had once stood as proud and unyielding as the Kings of Winter. But the Kings of Winter were long gone and Winterfell was a near ruin. Yet when Sansa administered the restoration she was greeted most courteously and with faces full of hope. She knew that Winterfell was more than a cold, burned stone building, but also a hard-working and strong people.
Rebuilding Winterfell kept Sansa occupied and relieved her worries. Her brothers Bran and Rickon had returned very changed, one distant, the other wild and untameable. Her brother Jon was still “setting things right in the North,” even though Sansa suspected he was fleeing from having to take on the Targaryen name and assume royal duties. Arya, her only sister, was missing, though she was reported to be travelling Essos with a blacksmith named Gendry after they helped win the war.
I might as well have been the last Stark.
But Sansa had another worry yet.
At the moment, Winterfell hosted Daenerys Targaryen, the Dragon Queen. She had arrived a fortnight ago on her black dragon's back in all her glory, demanding to see her nephew. When she was informed of his absence, she replied mildly: “Well, then send for him. I shall wait.”
Sansa entertained her with all the grace as befit her status and position, but still felt uneasy at times. She knew Jon would not be coming back anytime soon, especially not with the queen awaiting him in Winterfell. Still, the Silver Queen seemed unfazed by her nephew's continued absence.
After some time, Sansa noted that the supposedly fierce warrior queen was most agreeable company. She would talk to Sansa often, ask her about the rebuilding of the castle and request advice on Westerosi politics. Their new queen was very puzzling, indeed.
One evening, the two of them sat in Sansa's solar, discussing food provisions. As Sansa was calculating how much the Reach could provide, Daenerys became quiet. “I never had a mother,” the queen told her suddenly.
Sansa didn't reply. She already knew that.
Dany (as she urged Sansa to call her) took that as encouragement to continue: “Mhysa, they call me, and Mother of Dragons, yet now I feel like I never knew how to be a mother. Maybe that's why I look up to you so,” Daenerys smiled.
For a moment, Sansa was speechless. She shook her head, then. “I still feel like a child inside, Your Grace. All the time, I wonder whether I'm fit to lead and what my parents would have me do.”
“I told you not to call me that. I consider you a close friend,” the queen chided. Her usual regal expression made way for a twinkle in her violet eyes, then. 'Would your mother tell you stories?' she asked. Sansa smiled sadly and fiddled with the hem of her grey dress.
“Very often, as did Old Nan. As a child, I couldn't get enough of them,” she sighed. ”I haven't thought about stories for a long time now. Believing in them has not been easy as of late.” Blue eyes met violet ones and they shared a knowing look.
The fireplace crackled beside them. It had not been out since winter began, for which Sansa was grateful. Will summer ever return? Sansa wondered. Daenerys looked into the flames thoughtfully. She is really beautiful. The queen held an air of strength and composure but every now and then, her eyes would betray a vulnerability that came with having seen too much at too young an age. Sansa often saw the same eyes in the mirror.
“My handmaidens once told me a story,” Dany mused. “During my time in Essos, I would hear many variations of the story. Would you like to hear the one I liked best?”
After a moment, Sansa nodded. “I would like that very much, Dany.” It would be nice to hear a story after so long.
Dany gave her a look of approval and straightened her back. “Let me tell you the story of how the dragons were born and the moon and the sun fell in love with one another…”
As long as she could remember, the Goddess Rey had watched the people on the blue planet with the utmost interest. They thrived off her sunlight, she knew, praising it in summer, praying for it in winter. It fell on her to watch her child planet’s course and protect it.
Sometimes, she would watch the the other God, the master of the two moons, too. His home was vastly different from hers, with a castle of cold stone, unlike hers of pure flame. More often than not, she would rather watch him than the blue planet, as he was striding across the surface with grace and purpose. One day, though, he met her eye.
No one had ever met her eye before. From that moment on, watching each other was all they ever did.
His face was as pale as the surface of his moons, his hair as dark as the sky around them. She gazed at his lips, full and rosy, imagining the sweet words they would tell her. His most striking feature though were his haunted eyes, showing a fierce and desperate need. What did he see when he looked at her, she wondered.
In their mutual want, they would subconsciously alter course and move closer together. What befell the blue planet then was a horror; a winter, much too long and severe, unleashing terrors unimaginable. As soon as the Gods of the Sun and Moon noticed this, they let go of each other, grief pervading their lovers' hearts.
So Rey resumed watching her child planet to distract herself from her heartbreak. Whenever she chanced a glance at her love, he would wander restlessly or bury his head in his hands, so she forced herself to watch the blue orb below her again.
The realm below was warming up slowly, but the terrors were still not defeated. She felt the sorrow of its inhabitants as if it was her own. One couple in particular caught her eye, their love lighting up her own gloom. But the mortal man swore to bring an end to the darkness of the Night, and, to Rey's shock and dread, pushed a sword into his love's chest to create an invincible weapon.
The yearning for her own love had never been as strong as at that moment. Holding her own course, she pulled his moons to her in utter desperation. He didn't stop her. But one of his moons got too close; a loud crack woke her from her haze, and suddenly dragons filled the air. Surprised, she let go again and he drifted away, with a look that mirrored hers but was also mixed with deep sadness at the loss of his second realm.
What seemed to be a loss, though, turned out to be their blessing. Some of the dragons left for the blue planet. Those dragons, however, who did not were taken with the Goddess of the Sun at once, recognizing in her warmth their kin and leader. At her wish, they would take her to the God of the Moon, and so the star-crossed lovers were finally united.
Kylo, he was called. She finally learned her love's name was Kylo. And his kisses weren't anywhere as cold as his rough home led her to believe. His touch burned her every fibre as the heat of her realm never could have done. He would worship her and chant her name like a prayer and kneel in front of her, as if he were a mere mortal and not a God.
Rey would visit him frequently but never for too long, as neither of them could neglect their duties and leave their realms for a prolonged time.
“I used to despise my immortality,” he once told her, his head in her lap. “It seemed like infinite nothingness. I longed for places unreachable, unseeable. More than a life of duty, devoid of meaning.” Rey gazed at her sun, stroking Kylo’s hair as black as sky. The misery in his words hurt as much as the truth in them. There was great beauty in his realm and Rey was struck every time she beheld his silver fortress, standing tall in the white, stony desert. But she also saw how time would turn this paradise into a cage. It was exactly how she felt.
“My sunlight. We’re one and the same,” Kylo said as if reading her thoughts. “With you, eternity might be bearable,” he added cockily. Before Rey could tell him off, the Moon God pulled her down into his ever-loving, warm arms.
But even though the Gods were immortal, their dragons were not. As the last dragon on the blue orb died, her dragons died with them. The lovers were inconsolable and nearly lost their last shred of hope.
Her sun took many turns around the blue planet, until dragons were born anew on the blue planet below. The spark of their life ignited the bones of her dragons and the elation in her heart withal. As they took flight again, the Goddess of flames and her dragons, her fire made flesh, the sound of her laughter fused with the roar of her winged salvation. The dragons breathed their joy into the night sky.
For the longest time, the trail of red could be seen from far below. Red comet, the mortals would call it, and twist its meaning to their wishes...
Sansa dabbed gently with a handkerchief at her eyes. “That was a beautiful story.”
“The ending was spun in thought to flatter me,” Dany laughed. “Still, the tale has merit. The Sun chose duty over her own desires, but in the end, she was rewarded for her patience.” Dany's eyes were fixed on a spot behind Sansa.
“I don't think it's about reward, Your Grace,” Sansa disagreed softly. “They would have found a way to each other and made it happen, I might imagine. Love is no reward, it's work, and sacrifice.”
The queen turned to her and suddenly, reached out to cup Sansa's cheek. “I wonder what surprise she might have felt, that woman of fire, as she found warmth hidden behind cold grey stones. And I told you to call me Dany.”
Sansa blinked, heart skipping a beat. Dany looked a bit unsure, so Sansa put her own hand over hers, squeezing lightly, and smiled. Yes , she thought. Spring was coming .