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Sansa was staring at herself in her looking glass. She had grown again and now her dress was too short, hitting unflatteringly at her ankles. If she tugged the sleeves enough, they came down to her wrists but the minute she let go, they bounced back up her arms. Mother had just had these made a few months ago and she had already outgrown them!
Her sixteenth birthday was fast approaching, the feast held in her honour would be grand. She needed new dresses. Sansa went to see her mother.
The night before her birthday, Mother and Arya helped her prepare, though Arya mostly sat on her bed and laughed at how nervous Sansa was. They bathed her in scented oils and braided her hair, helped her dress in a white shift and took her to the godswood to pray. Though she held the Faith of the Seven closer to her heart than the old gods, tradition was important and tradition beget a full night under the weirwood.
As the moon hit it's peak, her mother took her sleeping sister back to the castle. Sansa stayed, blood coursing quickly through her veins, fidgeting and unable to sleep as she waited for morning to come. The hours passed with leaden steps. But day bled into night, black then violet then the first streak of red as her birthday dawned.
The light touched her skin through the leaves of the heart tree. Her arm burned. Quick as the pain had come it had gone, leaving only shimmering, silver words behind.
Will you bend the knee?
Surely this meant that Prince Joffrey was her soulmate. Who else would she bend the knee to? Sansa smiled before heading out of the godswood to break her fast.
Prince Joffrey was not her soulmate, she couldn't believe how she had ever been so foolish. He had her stripped in the throne room, beaten and humiliated. They married her to the Imp. Her life was reduced to her chambers after her attempt to escape was thwarted. Only her Lannister chambermaid and her husband were allowed to visit her.
Father was dead, Mother was dead, Robb, Rickon and Bran, all dead. Arya had fled years ago and she was most likely dead. She was alone.
Then the dragons came.
The Eyrie surrendered, then Riverrun, Casterly Rock, Highgarden. Daenerys Targaryen and her army came and conquered. Her army grew as commoners, knights and lords flocked behind her dragon banner.
The siege of King's Landing lasted a week, dragons flew over the castle and none of their weapons could harm them.
Everyone was ushered into the throne room as Daenerys Targaryen walked in, surrounded by her guards. Members of each house knelt before her and swore their allegiance.
"Sansa Stark," said a man reading from a scroll.
She stumbled forward, standing at the base of the looming Iron Throne. Daenerys Targaryen was perhaps the most beautiful woman Sansa had ever seen.
"Will you bend the knee?" she asked.
Her arm burned. She knelt and stared up at the woman before her, her saviour, her soulmate. "Long live the Queen."
The Queen glanced at her arm and back at Sansa. She motioned to one of her guards and they ushered Sansa from the room. They led her to an opulent room and stood guard outside the door.
It was hours before she came, Sansa paced back and forth as she waited.
Then she was there, violet eyes burning and her moonlight hair as immaculate as when she first saw it.
Sansa held out her arm, the words black against her pale skin, the sign that she had found her soulmate.
"Your Grace," Sansa said.
The Queen smiled and took her hand. "Call me Dany, soulmate."
Sansa grinned as the feeling of safety and home settled over her. "Soulmate."
Then Dany's hands were on her waist and her lips were crashing against hers and she had never felt as loved or cherished as she did in that moment. Her soulmate was here, she had three dragons, and she was finally safe.