The Dragon's Sister || Game Of Thrones (Under Rewrite)

A War To Fight

When she was a little girl her father, Ned Stark of Winterfell, reminded her that she was born in the long days of summer, along with Arya and the rest of her family. He told her that she never knew what it was like to be born in the middle of winter, to understand the gruesome decisions he had to make that he believed was for the right reasons. And with his warning came his favorite saying, Winter is coming. 

   And winter had come. 

   Winterfell was now the main priority of protecting against the approaching undead army that laid somewhere beyond the forest from sight. Night had fallen quickly and the armies of the living were ready, or so they thought. Even if they were not prepared, which none were, they had no other choice but to fight. 

   Sansa at least hoped and prayed that they would win; standing above Winterfell's arch bridge, watching as the horde of Dothraki and Northerners banded together, gathering in front of the kingdom as a wall of defenders. They were soon to become a wall of corpses. 

   Even though she had survived many events in which ordinary women would not have, Sansa knew that the Long Night, or whatever their battle with the Night King was called, would be different, difficult, and more brutal than how her experiences with Ramsay or Joffrey were. This was a true battle of life and death. 

   "When the snow falls and the white winds blow," she found herself whispering lowly. "The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives."

   Now the pack's role to survival was more vital than it ever was.

   Sansa looked down before to her right, spotting Arya's small figure standing besides her. She had hardly realized of her sister's sneaky approach. "There's something you don't see every day." Her sister said. 

   "A horse of Dothraki banding together with our Northmen and women?" Sansa questioned. "It's almost impossible to believe, even if they're right in front of us." 

   "You are right in your words, Lady Sansa."

   Both Arya and Sansa looked down to see the Targaryen woman with a kind smile but burning spirit looking up at them. She stared up at the two as she began to walk up the stairs, her eyes turning to where the battle was to be carried out. 

   Sansa was surprised that she was not in the air on her dragon's back, prepared to fight with Daenerys and Jon, whom were to ride on Drogon and Rhaegal. Neither dragons were in the air at the time, though.

   "The Dothraki have never crossed the Narrow Sea to reach Winterfell, nor has the Unsullied. Nonetheless, neither Khalasar or army of former slaves have ever banded together with Northerners or Dornish." Vaerya said. 

   "Neither have dragons," replied Sansa. 

   Vaerya nodded her head. Arya stared at the Targaryen queen with curiosity in her eyes. She had never once encountered or interacted with either her or Daenerys, and always felt an urge not to. She had been told of many stories by her father and her books of what a dragon could do, from Balerion The Dread to Caraxes The Blood Wyrm. 

   "Yes, but unlike history before, we are not here to conquer Winterfell, we are here to defend it." 

   Arya glanced over at Vaerya. She had never once interacted or encountered her, nor Daenerys before, and there was always an urge not to whenever she thought so. She had been told by stories and books of what Aegon's dragons had done, how they decimated armies to ash for the knee to be bent. 

   Was that how Daenerys expected of Sansa after they won? 

   "I am forever in your debt, Your Grace." Vaerya raised a hand. 

   "Please, call me by my name, Lady Sansa. I am a Queen, but I am not the Queen." 

   "Of course, Vaerya." Sansa replied. 

   "What is it like?" Arya found herself asking.

   Vaerya looked over at the younger wolf. "What is what like, Lady Arya?" 

   Arya looked back. "What is it like to be on a dragon's back? What does it feel like, holding so much power that it can easily grant you more?"

   The Targaryen queen seemed somewhat uneasy to answer such a question, in Arya's opinion. She was quite curious on why, seeing that she was a Targaryen and it was in her blood to conquer kingdoms and cities. 

   "To tell you the truth, Lady Stark, I've never been interested in gaining power for a throne that was never mine. I am not here to conquer kingdoms at the cost of demanding respect and order. That may be my sister's desire, it is not mine." Vaerya answered. 

   Sansa looked at her, stunned, surprised. "But you are a Targaryen, you're of a line of conquerors and rulers."

   "As much as you are of a line of wolves and packs, Lady Sansa and Lady Arya. It doesn't mean we, of the same House of one another, walk in the same footsteps of those who have come before us. We choose our own path by what choices we take." 

   "By what your Queen will bring upon us, you mean."

   Vaerya sighed. "My sister will be Queen of Westeros, there, that is no doubt. If not only for her dragons, then it is right by blood. But had you first met her in our years of exile in Essos, perhaps your perspective would be altered." 

   The Lady Stark silently agreed. 

   In her years in Kings Landing, she had only heard vague pages of who Daenerys Targaryen was; a slave liberator before a Queen of Mereen. There were mentions of Vaerya, but none that seemed as important as Daenerys. Sansa often wondered why that was. 

   The sound of a dragon's bellowing cry suddenly shocked Sansa out of her mind, looking up at the sky, deprived of the moon's gleaming light. She could vaguely make out a shadow of a large beast, assuming it to be the black or blue dragon, as the green was much smaller than either. Vaerya followed her gaze.

   "I heard of your wish to declare independence for The North," she said. "Though I cannot promise you anything, I do highly doubt it would not be brought up in the near future. Help us win this war and I am sure it may be acknowledged." 

   "What is this?" Arya asked. "Why do you want to help us separate from your sister's kingdoms?" 

   "Think of it as a mutual agreement," Vaerya looked back at Arya and Sansa. 

   "A life for a life is what many call it as. A kingdom for a kingdom is what I can call it. If Winterfell is defended and The North is spared, then it can only mean the rest of the Seven Kingdoms is spared from a Long Night, including Kings Landing. And if I know my sister, I know she would do anything to take her throne with an open opportunity." 

   "But why? Why do you present us this open opportunity?" Sansa questioned.

   "Whatever stands between Daenerys and the Iron Throne is something she can and will take to great offense. I have seen those who faced her, and many who wished not to again. Trust me, it is not something you want to see, no matter how many times it comes and goes." 

   At her respond, Vaerya began to take her leave, walking down the stairs before Sansa called out to her again. "And if you were to be the Queen, if you were Daenerys Targaryen, wouldn't you have done anything to take what belongs to you?"

   "Haven't you already heard, Lady Sansa? I am not my sister, I do not take what is mine." 

   Those words were something uncertain to Sansa as Vaerya walked away, out of sight, heading to The Crypts. She wasn't sure of what they meant, perhaps she could find out again later on. If they won their right to live.