Dangerous Animals

Chapter Four

Sansa examined the woman sitting before her. She held a small smile upon her face, in an attempt to look pleasant, but her eyes betrayed the facade. Her eyes were light green, nearly the color of Cersei's, yet they did not hold the same power. While Cersei's eyes looked as though they had frozen over, this Dragon Queen's eyes showed nothing but hatred, the kind of hatred that danced in roaring fires, a wild sort of hatred that could not be controlled. A wildness that matched her dragons. Her hair was braided elaborately, and Sansa recalled one of the few bits of information she had retained about Dothraki: they wore their hair in braids, that is, until they lost a battle. It seemed that Daenerys Targaryen had never lost a battle, at least in her eyes.

She had to admit, Daenerys Targaryen held herself with more poise and strength than she had ever seen in a king, including Jon. Despite the throne at Dragonstone being nearly the size of one of the dragons flying above the island, it did not consume the small girl. In fact, Daenerys Targaryen looked as if the throne had been built for her, and she commanded the presence of the vast room with ease.

Sansa noted that both Tyrion and Missandei looked at Daenerys Targaryen the way the Northmen looked at Jon, with respect and adoration, but with a bit of fear in their eyes as well. The fear made her uncomfortable, as she was never sure what caused people to fear their leaders so greatly. Sansa had been told conflicting ideas throughout her life on how she should get people to follow her, both nobles and commoners alike. Her father had always said respect was the surest way to leadership. Cersei had insisted it was fear. Jon had used honor. But Sansa had always thought, and she believed she always would, that the closest way to the people's hearts was through love. Daenerys Targaryen had seemed to have achieved this, at least from what she had observed so far. That made her more dangerous than Sansa had thought.

"My Lady," Brienne began to speak, and a new wave of anger flashed through Daenerys' eyes, not ignoring the use of "my Lady." Brienne continued, clearly not noting Daenerys' anger, or perhaps not caring. "This is Princess Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell-" Sansa flinched internally. She had never once in her life been called "princess," and had not been expecting it by any means. The title technically made sense, she supposed, but it sounded foreign attached to her name, and she was shocked as Brienne's boldness. Brienne did not seem to share the sentiment, still speaking,  "-and sister of the King in the North, Jon Snow."

Sansa smiled, and conducted a small curtsey, worthy of a lady from a great house. "Lady Targaryen-" she continued to play Brienne's game, deciding that it did only make sense, for how can someone serve two rulers at once? "I must thank you for making preparations for Lady Brienne, my men, and me, especially on such short notice. Your hospitality so far has been quite wonderful, and I pray we aren't too much of an inconvenience."

Daenerys' smile widened, although Sansa was sure that even Brienne could tell it was forced, "it has not been a problem at all, Lady Stark, I am glad you have come to swear fealty to the rightful ruler of Westeros."

Sansa sighed, this already? She had been hoping, for Sansa Stark did not pray, that Daenerys and her were going to be able to at least come to some form of understanding before the talk of crowns and thrones and birthrights were brought into the conversation. A foolish hope, and a dangerous one. "My Lady, my brother, the King, sent me here to negotiate an agreement between the North and you, not for me to bend the knee, as there are far more important matters to discuss." How was she going to approach this? The idea of wights and whitewalkers seemed even more absurd than dragons to Sansa, but she knew that they were the true enemy, although it had taken Jon weeks to convince her. It had taken her brother, a man she trusted more than anyone in the world weeks to convince her of this threat. How was she to convince a foreign girl of a threat that she may have never even heard of, even in bedtime stories? A foreign girl, and Tyrion.