Chapter Text
Sansa’s not sure when it started.
It could’ve been a few weeks ago, when the first message came in. It could’ve been before that, when the first package — a lemon cake from her favorite bakery — was delivered to her apartment. It could’ve even been at the start of the semester, walking to her new classes and feeling eyes on her but when looking back, nobody was there.
There were clues before the first message came in, but Sansa has learned not to fully trust her paranoia. Her therapist says it’s a PTSD symptom, hypervigilance, and nothing else. She could be right, but then again Sansa’s had to learn the hard way that the way things seem are not how things really are. Her suspicions were confirmed when the messages started, anyway.
Sansa’s been doing okay this semester. It’s only a few months in, but she already feels better than last year. It helps that she transferred from King’s Landing University to Winterfell. She likes being closer to her siblings, and she’s matured a lot in the past few years that she’s no longer the prissy rich brat who dismisses her family and jumps head-first into new situations just because they’re new.
Sansa takes a deep breath and smooths her red hair back, reorienting herself to where she is: the library. She’s here to study, not attack her younger self. She needs to stop thinking so much. Her thoughts tend to spiral more these days — especially since the texts came in.
It’s hard to be in public places because of it. At any time, she could get a random image of herself, sitting in the cafeteria or even an innocent-seeming picture of a building on campus. However, Sansa knows it’s not just a wrong number message. It’s pictures of places she was just in earlier that day, or currently in if her stalker gets particularly brave.
So being in public freaks her out, but at the same time it makes her feel safe. Surely, her stalker wouldn’t try something in public. As long as Sansa is careful to stay around other people, she’ll be fine. Jon and Arya are close by as well, and have assured Sansa a thousand times that it’s not a bother if she calls them for help.
And the messages… don’t exactly freak her out. The pictures do more, but the texts are all positive although definitely targeted and personal.
Her phone buzzes, and a glance to the screen proves her point.
good job grounding yourself, sweetheart.
Sansa’s shoulders tense. They must be watching her right now. She takes another deep breath and stretches her neck, trying to release the tension she feels, when another text comes in.
don’t worry. you’re safe. im not going to touch you. I just like watching over you.
There’s warmth in her chest as she reads the message. It’s reassuring, and her stalker never fails to repeat the safety reminders. Sansa knows that, rationally, she can’t trust anything they say — but it’s hard not to feel comforted, since everything they say is exactly what she needs to hear.
The encouragement, the praise, the reassurance of safety and respect for her boundaries. Sansa knows she’s desperate for it all because she’s never been in a healthy relationship before, and it would be easy for her stalker to know that and manipulate her. The court case with Ramsey was highly publicized despite her parent’s best efforts.
But in all the time her stalker’s been around, they have kept their word. They haven’t approached Sansa or even asked for anything. Because they’re consistent, she’s starting to trust them. It’s insane and stupid, but Sansa is vulnerable and craves this.
The texts always come from the same number, but despite Sansa’s best efforts to trace the phone number she finds nothing. It’s like the number doesn’t exist. Whoever they are, her stalker must be very skilled at technology or have enough money to cover up their tracks without a trace.
So far, Sansa hasn’t responded at all. She’s afraid to, afraid to acknowledge that this entire thing is real. Afraid that once she responds, she’ll be admitting how much she likes the messages and surprise gifts that show up at her door. The concept of responding to ask them to stop doesn’t even cross her mind.
Her phone buzzes with another message.
You’re an amazing student, but you work too hard baby. its late, why don’t you get some rest?
The different pet names make her blush. Sweetheart, baby, even princess sometimes. It's such an extreme difference from the horrible things Ramsey used to call her that sometimes reading them makes her want to cry.
They’re right, however. She glances at the time, and it’s later than she thought. She didn’t have any classes today and spent the time at the library to work on assignments, and she’s tired. She packs up her things, and makes her way home.
Her apartment is off-campus but very close, the route usually well-lit and frequented by other students. Sansa and her family chose it on purpose, since Arya and Jon are both living in the dorms and Rob already graduated. Sansa didn’t want to live in the dorms due to the limited security, and memories of what happened the last time she lived in a university’s dorms.
So, her apartment it was. After agreeing on the location, her parents paid for a state-of-the-art security system that they all had access to, so her parents and siblings could check-in on her. Sansa feels a bit guilty for needing all this extra security and support from her family, but they say it’s okay.
The security system is how Sansa is positive that her stalker hasn’t come near her apartment, at least. The cameras would’ve caught them immediately, and knowing that they haven’t stalked her there only adds to Sansa’s growing trust in them.
Her apartment’s on the top floor, and she waves to the front desk person, Brienne, on her way up the elevator. Brienne knows her mom — a lot of people in Winterfell know her parents or know of them, as their family company is long-established and very successful — and is another source of support for Sansa as she attends university. Sansa suspects her parents have personally tasked Brienne with watching out for her, although they deny it if she asks.
“Sansa, wait,” Brienne calls. “Here, you have another package.”
Sansa’s eyes widen but she takes the small box from Brienne. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” they say, smiling. “No lemon cakes today, huh? Trying to cut back on sugar?”
Sansa gives a small, strained smile in return. “Something like that. Goodnight, Brienne.”
Brienne doesn’t know about her stalker. Nobody knows. Nobody knows about the texts, and Sansa just pretends like she orders the surprise packages and food. With all of this security and support, Sansa should tell someone about her stalker. She really should, and she knows that.
But it’s been months, and she still hasn’t.
She reaches her flat and types in the passkey to the electronic deadbolt lock. It beeps in acceptance and Sansa steps inside, locking the door behind her. She places the package on the kitchen countertop then takes off her backpack, stretching her sore shoulders.
She doesn’t open the box right away. She takes her time, eating some reheated beef stroganoff then changing into comfy pajamas. She wants to be in the right mindset, comfortable and level-headed, when she opens the package.
It’s become a ritual of sorts. When her stalker sends her food or sweets, of course Sansa eats it right away because she’s usually hungry (and she can’t resist her favorite lemon cake). But if it’s a box, clearly not food, she waits until she can fully focus on opening the box and discovering what’s inside.
All ready, Sansa sits on her couch with the box in her lap. It really is small, only about the size of a tissue box, and Sansa wonders what it is. A candle? A mug?
Using some scissors to cut through the tape, Sansa pulls back the cardboard flaps to reveal —
“Oh,” she murmurs, smiling. It’s so cute!
It’s a small silicon nightlight in the shape of a wolf. It’s really cute, with crescent eyes and a happy smile. Sansa’s seen these kinds of nightlights before, but usually only in the shape of a cat or a bunny. For it to be a wolf, the animal used as a logo for both her family’s company and Winterfell’s mascot, is really special. It must’ve been hard to find, too.
The nightlight isn’t the only thing in the box. There’s a small piece of paper with instructions on how to use it — there’s settings for different brightnesses and colors — and a small note with familiar, pretty handwriting.
A friend to help you feel safer in the dark — D
Sansa’s breath catches. D? This is the first ever clue of who her stalker is, the first time they’ve identified themself in any way. Sansa’s been assuming (and hoping) that it’s a woman from the pretty, loopy handwriting and the nature of the gifts — she’s received a fluffy bathrobe, slippers, and various self-care products like face masks and bubble bath. Surely a man wouldn’t gift those types of things, or have that type of handwriting?
The lack of knowledge of her stalker’s identity is one reason why Sansa hasn’t responded to them or told anyone so far. If it’s a man, her comfort and safety would be absolutely shattered just because of her past experiences with men. But if it’s a woman…
She wants it to be a woman, but she’s afraid of finding out.
But the letter D could stand for anything. Daniel, Devon, Diana, Danielle… there’s so many possibilities.
Sansa takes out her phone, and clicks on the contact of her stalker. She’s had the mysterious phone number memorized for weeks now.
Before she can think too hard about it, Sansa saves the contact to her phone under D.
She looks at the message history. It’s all incoming messages, all of them sweet and kind, with a few of the creepy pictures.
Biting her lip, Sansa types out a message. If the stalker gave her an initial, it’s only fair that Sansa gives something in return, right?
Thank you for the gift
All of them
She holds her breath. She’s resisted saying thank you (or anything) before because it would be a clear acknowledgement, an invitation that her stalker could take and run with. But they’ve sent so many things, Sansa can’t bring herself to regret saying it.
Her phone buzzes.
No need to thank me <3 im glad you like them. Goodnight, sweetheart.
Sansa lets out the breath she’s been holding, and her shoulders relax.
Her stalker didn’t make a big deal out of Sansa finally replying to them, which she appreciates. She also really likes how they don’t seem to want anything in return for their gifts — it relieves a lot of her anxiety and is very different from her previous relationships.
Not that this is a relationship. It’s just nice to have someone treat her well, that’s all.
Sansa heads to bed, making sure to set up the wolf nightlight on her bedstand. The dim light is calming, and Sansa has a rare night of sleep without nightmares.
Once the seal of communication has been broken, it can’t be repaired.
Sansa finds herself texting D after that night. She doesn’t initiate, but she does respond. Not always, but she doesn’t hold herself back as much when the messages come in.
D: You look happier today, baby. I hope your classes go well.
Sansa: im feeling better. thanks
D also starts asking questions, and Sansa feels in control to answer. She knows she doesn’t have to, since D only asks once then will change the subject after a few hours if Sansa doesn’t respond.
D: Are your classes going okay?
Sansa: yeah
D: is anyone giving you a hard time?
Sansa: no, and if they did my siblings are here for me
D: What are your siblings like?
When things start to get too personal, Sansa doesn’t respond. Just like how her siblings are protective of her, she’s also protective of them and won’t give any details to a proven stalker, even if they are quite caring.
Indeed, most of the questions are less about Sansa’s life and family, and more about her general well-being. A few days after the nightlight gift, Sansa is sitting in the student union building waiting for her next class when another message comes in.
D: Did you eat breakfast this morning?
Sansa: yes, i had eggs
D: Good girl <3
That’s new. Sansa blushes and quickly puts her phone away, embarrassed at how warm and fuzzy she suddenly feels.
D is just so sweet. It feels like they actually care about Sansa, and not about what Sansa can provide them. They’re gently filling a hole in Sansa’s heart that was created with violence.
The rest of the day, Sansa can’t stop thinking about that message. Good girl. She thinks about it during class, unable to pay attention to her professor. She thinks about it in the library later, unable to concentrate on studying.
Eventually, she can’t take it anymore and types out her first-ever question to D.
Are you a man?
She regrets it almost instantly.
Im sorry, that’s rude
don’t answer me
It shouldn’t matter
i dont need to know
D doesn’t respond immediately, which puts Sansa on edge. They always reply fast, a fact that eases Sansa’s anxiety about their communication. She’s worried that she offended D, her question somehow letting slip that she fears they’re a man. Sansa’s not sexist, but…
If it’s a man that’s saying all these sweet things to her, and sending her these thoughtful gifts, it will be much harder to trust them. Not that she should trust them, anyway. But it would spoil this whole thing.
She feels guilty about preferring a woman. She knows there’s good guys out there. Supposedly.
Her therapist says there’s no shame in having a gender preference, especially after trauma. It’s part of PTSD, the generalization symptom.
Before Sansa’s thoughts fully spiral, her phone buzzes with a message. She grabs her phone and blinks in surprise. Instead of a text, D sent her a voice message.
Sansa quickly puts her earbuds in, connects them to her phone, and presses play on the message with trembling fingers.
There’s silence while the audio loads. Then:
“Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I should’ve said.”
Sansa relaxes immediately, slumping into her chair. It’s clearly a woman’s voice!
“I’m not a man,” D says, voice as soft as Sansa imagined. “I’m a cis woman. Don’t feel bad for asking, either. I know how horrible cis men can be. I’m sorry you know too.”
The message ends, but Sansa plays it again. Listening to D’s soft, feminine voice and her reassurances. Sansa can feel the tension leaving her body with D’s every word.
Sansa doesn’t feel comfortable sending a voice message in reply, but she does respond.
Thank you, she says. I’m sorry we’ve had similar experiences.
Then, after pausing:
It’s nice to hear your voice.
D switches back to texting as well, matching Sansa.
You’re too sweet to me. It’s my fault for not clarifying sooner.
Sansa’s mouth twitches in a smile and she responds. You have been very mysterious.
Is that a joke, princess? I see your smile. It’s beautiful.
Sansa’s heart stops in her chest as her head jerks up, looking around the library common room. There’s a fair amount of students that she can see, but nobody that’s obviously looking at her. Her eyes scan all the women around, but nobody stands out.
Sansa swallows, then types out another question.
Why don’t you approach me directly?
D takes only a few more moments than usual to respond.
I’m afraid you won’t accept me.
Then, more messages:
and i know how intimidating it is when someone likes you. I’ll only come to you when you ask me.
I’d never cross your boundaries.
I just want to make you feel safe and loved
Sansa stares at the messages, considering them. It’s very unnerving to have a stalker, but it’s also nice to have the reassurance that D would never physically interact with Sansa unless she wanted. The more Sansa thinks about it, the more she understands why she never truly freaked out about her stalker in the first place.
There is a certain safety from being admired from afar. Receiving thoughtful gifts and messages of praise, without any expectation for anything physical. It’s the type of relationship Sansa has fantasized about, after Ramsey.
Okay, Sansa responds. Thank you.
Thank you, princess.
D sends a few more voice messages over the next few days, and Sansa feels silly as she listens to them over and over again. D’s voice is just so soothing, and listening to her murmur good job, goodnight, good morning baby, and good girl is too addicting to resist.
Although one side of her is enjoying growing closer to D, the other side of her is screaming about how stupid she is.
D could be lying about everything. She could be playing with Sansa’s feelings, playing the long game to exploit her and take her money. Sansa feels pretty confident that D is telling the truth about being a woman — the trouble it would take to fake the voice messages just seems excessive, even for Sansa’s paranoia.
Can Sansa really trust D? Should she keep in contact, or is it better to cut it off now to avoid being hurt again?
The questions weigh on her for the next few days, until one night while at home and staring at her wolf nightlight (Sansa named her Lady), she can’t take it anymore.
Sansa’s always had a need to know, and it pushes her into things she may not be ready for. She feels ready this time, though. Well… ready enough.
Sansa: i enjoy talking to you, and thank you for all the gifts… but I don’t know anything about you.
D: oh, is your mind giving you all the worst-case scenarios baby?
Sansa flushes.
Sansa: …yes
It helps that you’re not a man, but there’s so many other what ifs…
D: i understand! I want you to feel comfortable. what do u wanna know? Don’t worry about asking for too much, i’ll tell you if im not ready to share something
Sansa sighs in relief. D really does say all the right things. She wants to know so much, but the first question that comes to mind is…
Sansa: have you been to therapy?
She’s asking partly out of concern for D’s well-being since she said she’s been hurt before, and partly because the way she talks to Sansa reminds her of how her therapist talks to her.
Oh god. D isn’t her therapist, is she??
No, Sansa tells herself firmly. That’s too paranoid. Her therapist is well vetted by her parents, and besides Sansa has gotten messages from D during therapy. It’s not hard to schedule messages, but Sansa’s rational brain is telling her there’s no way. Besides, her therapist is married.
D: I have, and it helped me a lot. I still go every now and then, when I need it. Do you like your therapist Margaery?
Sansa: I do! She’s great.
Sansa tries not to be creeped out that D knows her therapist’s name. At this point, she should expect D to know many details about her life.
D: that’s good, princess. It’s important to feel comfortable and safe with your therapist. Im glad she’s helping you.
Sansa: thank u <3 can i ask another question?
D: of course <3
Sansa: how old are you?
D: about three years older than you
Okay. That’s fine with Sansa. She’s comfortable within a 5-year age range, and honestly it would be weird if a full-grown woman was stalking her. Sansa’s glad D is the equivalent of a grad student, given that Sansa herself is a junior.
D: you can ask another question ;)
Sansa smiles. She doesn’t know why she was so anxious to ask, D is always very agreeable.
Sansa: will we ever meet?
D: do u want to?
Sansa hesitates before answering.
Sansa: im not sure, but i think so. Maybe.
D: then when you’re absolutely ready, sweetheart, ill be there.
Goodnight <3
Sansa appreciates the answer. She knows that D is also anxious about meeting, for whatever reason. Sansa will wait until she’s comfortable, then see if D is comfortable too.
She wishes D a goodnight as well, then curls up in bed under her covers. She sleeps peacefully, without nightmares, and she’s grateful.
The next morning, Brienne stops her on her way to school.
“Here, this just came for you,” they say, holding out another box.
Sansa’s surprised. “This early?”
“It was dropped off by a courier, not the mailperson,” Brienne shrugs. “Maybe whoever you ordered it from outsourced the shipping?”
Sansa nods, taking the box and already turning around towards the elevator. She still hasn’t told Brienne that it’s not exactly her ordering all these packages.
Sansa leaves her backpack on when she enters her apartment, only intending to open the package and see what D sent so early. She has an early class she needs to get to.
The note is on top this time, and Sansa reads it before looking at the rest of the box's contents.
For you to have a piece of me even if we never meet — D
Sansa’s breath catches. She puts the note down to reach into the box, and pulls out soft fabric.
It’s a soft grey sweatshirt, so large that Sansa knows it will be oversized and comfortable to wear. Against the grey material, VALYRIAN DRAGONS and the familiar three-headed dragon logo is embossed in red. It’s worn, so Sansa knows it’s been worn by D for a while.
Valyria? It’s an old university, even farther away than King’s Landing. It has a really good reputation and is hard to get into. Sansa wonders if D went there, and is now at Winterfell for graduate school. If so, what’s her area of study?
The questions are impossible to answer right now, so Sansa turns her attention back to the sweatshirt itself. It’s a pullover with a front pocket, perfect for Sansa’s hands to rest while she’s walking around.
Sansa brings the sweatshirt up to her face, inhaling deeply. It smells clean, like cotton, but also something deeper like… Cedar? Leather? Maybe even smoke?
Whatever it is, it’s a nice smell. Sansa can’t stand sugary sweet, fruity scents, and she’s so glad that D doesn’t smell like that. She inhales again, breathing in and memorizing D’s smell.
She ends up taking her backpack off after all, if only just for a minute to switch out her sweater for D’s sweatshirt.
After Sansa’s class — Sociology of Crime — she checks her phone to see her missed texts. There’s a few from her siblings, but Sansa clicks on the one from D, responding to Sansa thanking D for her hoodie.
D: im glad you like it <3
There’s a photo attached, a side shot of Sansa walking to class. It’s close to the building where her class was, so D must’ve been waiting and hoping to catch a glimpse of Sansa. Sansa doesn’t know if she’s getting desensitized, but the stalking isn’t freaking her out as much as it used to. Probably a bad sign, but she decides not to think about that.
You look so cute in my sweatshirt!! Ahhhhh
I bet you smell like me
I wish i could dress you in my clothes all the time, so everyone knows that you’re mine
Sansa swallows at that last message. She likes the sentiment of being claimed by someone who takes care of her, but she doesn’t like the connotations of control and ownership.
As she’s thinking of how to respond, another message comes in.
You’re mine = you’re under my protection. Nothing else, sweetheart. Im sorry i didn’t clarify. Please, trust me. I don’t want to own you, i want to watch over you and make sure you bloom
Sansa does some deep breathing as she reads D’s reassurances, letting the tension leave her body. She should’ve known that’s what D meant, and she’s grateful for the clarification even if it means that D is probably watching her right now and saw her uncomfortable expression.
Sansa: thank u for clarifying. Im trusting you more each day
D: im so glad, princess.
Sansa doesn’t reply, and doesn’t feel any pressure to. She thinks about what D said, about being protected. It calms Sansa more, especially if she considers that all the “stalking” so far has just been about D protecting her. Almost like a guardian angel.
Sansa checks the messages from her siblings.
Jon: hey, wanna join Arya and I in the café for lunch after your class?
Arya: i know ur free for lunch, come to the cafe
Sansa smiles and text them both back, letting them know she’s on her way.
She doesn’t see her siblings every day. Although they all go to the same school, they are in wildly different programs and years. Jon’s about to graduate in political science (although he complains about it all the time), and Arya’s in her first year for criminology. Sansa’s in her third year, pre-law. None of them are majoring in business, but their parents aren’t upset since Rob already did (at his choice) and is working for them.
When Sansa gets to the cafe they frequent —a great place that’s kinda hidden with amazing food, just next to campus — Arya catches her eye and waves to her. Sansa walks over to their table and sits, grateful that they already ordered her water.
“Hey!” Arya grins. “How’s it going?”
“Good,” Sansa says, setting her bag next to her chair. “We’ve still got a few months until finals, so I’m not that stressed right now.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Jon teases her. “But I’m glad you’re doing okay, Sansa.”
Sansa smiles at him. She used to be awful to Jon when they were younger, but they’ve had a good relationship for a few years. Same with Arya, although Arya was the one being awful to Sansa. They’ve all grown up though, and after everything that happened with Ramsey her siblings have been fierce in protecting and supporting her.
“How are you guys doing?” Sansa asks.
Jon sighs. “Fine. Not looking forward to graduating.”
“You’ll find a job!” Sansa encourages.
“That’s what my TA says,” Jon grumbles. “She’s so stubborn. Won’t listen to my concerns.”
“Maybe you should be like her and get a masters degree,” Arya suggests.
“No way in hell,” Jon snorts. “The only thing worse than an adult job is even more years of school.”
“I disagree,” Sansa says, amused. They have this discussion all the time.
“Yeah we know, future lawyer,” Arya jokes. “Anyway, I have news!”
“Oh?” Sansa asks.
Jon just shakes his head and sighs.
“I just told Jon,” Arya grins. “I have a boyfriend!”
Sansa’s eyebrows raise. “Really?”
“What?” Arya demands. “I’m not too young anymore, I’m 18!”
“Still too young,” Jon mutters. “He’s 20, Arya, too old for you!”
“He tried to tell me that too, but it’s bullshit,” Arya waves away. “I do what I want.”
Sansa giggles. “I didn’t know you were interested in dating.”
“I’m not really,” Arya shrugs. “I just like Gendry. Like, really like him.”
“Then I’m happy for you,” Sansa smiles. “Will we get to meet him?”
“Yeah sometime,” Arya says, “When we’re available and not busy having sex all the time.”
“ARYA!” Jon cries, burying his head in his hands. Sansa just laughs, but her heart twinges a bit. She’s happy that her sister is so headstrong and doesn’t have a problem saying what she does or doesn’t want. Sansa just wishes she was that way, and could enjoy sex as well. Now, it’s basically ruined for her forever. She doesn’t mind, but she does wish she could experience the pleasure everyone seems to be obsessed with. She’s never felt that.
Their food arrives then, the staff knowing their regular orders and family reputation. Sansa thanks them and puts her hair up, digging into her meal. She’s hungry after sitting in class all morning with only a protein bar for breakfast.
Arya motions to her with her fork. “Where’d you get that hoodie?”
“Oh,” Sansa says, face turning pink. “Um, a thrift store.”
Jon glances at it. “Cool, the Dragons. You know, my TA went there.”
Arya ignores him. “Why? You’re a Stark, you go to Winterfell.”
Sansa shrugs, trying not to give anything away. “It’s comfy.”
Arya narrows her eyes, seeing too much, but lets it go and resumes eating. Sansa exhales and continues eating as well.
They chat about their friends, what they’re up to, how their family is doing. It’s a nice lunch, and Sansa is glad to hang out with her siblings whenever she can. They talk about their plans for spring break next week, with Arya staying on campus with Gendry, Jon going home, and Sansa deciding to split her time half and half. She wants to see her family, but she also wants to get some work done.
“You can always study during the day and come home for dinner,” Jon points out. “They’d all like that.”
“Maybe,” Sansa hums, but internally she knows she’s better able to focus when she divides her time nice and clearly. Besides, she really needs to get some work done. She didn’t even realize that spring break was a week away.
She finishes lunch with her siblings and hugs them goodbye. They have their own school to deal with, just like Sansa.
The week goes by fast, and before Sansa knows it spring break is here.
There hasn’t been any major changes with D this week, and the consistency of the voice messages and texting has been really nice. Sansa hasn’t worn her hoodie out of the apartment since that first day, but she does sleep in it from time to time. It’s just so comfy, and hearing D’s voice and smelling her on the hoodie as Sansa falls asleep is so nice.
She doesn’t dare tell D what she’s doing though, way too embarrassed. The last thing Sansa wants to be is vulnerable with another person, although she craves it at the same time. But right now, D doesn’t need to know just how much Sansa finds comfort in her.
The break is much needed. By the time it starts, Sansa feels drained. She doesn’t want to work on her school stuff immediately, so she tags along with Jon when he goes back home. Someone can always drive her back, home is so close that it’s not a bother.
“I hope they don’t ask me about finding a job after graduation,” Jon sighs as they pull into the long circle drive of the Stark mansion.
“Fingers crossed,” Sansa smiles.
They don’t even make it to the door before their parents rush out to greet them.
“Sansa!” her mom Catelyn calls, smiling and pulling Sansa into a tight hug.
“Hi mom,” Sansa sighs, closing her eyes. Her mom is always so comforting.
“Jon, good to see you,” her dad Ned greets, pulling him into a hug as well.
“How have you been?” Catelyn questions. “Everything going okay? Anybody giving you trouble?”
“Everything’s fine,” Sansa says. “Jon and Arya have been looking after me well.”
“Yes, thank you,” Catelyn nods at Jon. She’s always been cooler to him, since Ned had Jon out of wedlock during a rough patch early in their marriage, but she’s warmed up recently after what happened.
“It’s good to see you, sweetie,” her dad smiles, embracing Sansa in a full bear hug before leaning back to kiss her forehead. “You know we’re just a phone call and a short drive away, right?”
“Yes, daddy,” Sansa smiles. “It’s okay, I’m doing good. Brienne is nice.”
“Good,” Catelyn nods. “Well, are you hungry?”
“Starving,” Jon says.
Sansa’s dad drops her off at her apartment three days later, and insists on walking her all the way up to her door.
“There’s really no need,” Sansa insists.
“I know, but I want to,” he smiles, and opens the door for her.
They walk through the lobby, and Sansa almost laughs as Brienne looks up then does a double-take.
“Mr. Stark, sir.”
“Brienne,” Ned greets, walking over to shake their hand. “Thank you for looking after my daughter.”
“It’s my honor, sir,” they reply seriously.
“Catelyn sends her best,” Ned says, joining Sansa by the elevator.
“Thank you, sir.”
Sansa waves to Brienne before the elevator closes.
“A bit stiff, aren’t they?” Ned comments as they go up.
Sansa giggles. “Yeah, but I have seen them smile a few times.”
“Oh? I’ll have to tell your mother.”
When they arrive, Ned goes up to Sansa’s door first and tries to open it.
“Won’t budge,” he approves. “Good. The cameras are still working too.”
“Thank you,” Sansa murmurs.
“Of course, sweetie,” Ned hugs her tight. “You’re precious. Study hard, alright? I love you.”
“Love you too,” Sansa smiles. She says goodbye, then steps inside her apartment.
Home sweet home.
The next day, Sansa allows herself to sleep in before heading to the library. D sends her a good morning text that she responds to, and then Sansa’s curiosity spikes when eating breakfast.
Sansa: are you staying on campus for break?
D: that obvious im a student, huh? Yes baby, i am.
Sansa: it’s not super obvious, im just good at putting pieces together
D: you are, baby. I love that about you
Sansa smiles, once again basking in the praise and no longer ashamed by it. If D gives it, Sansa will take it.
She’s in a good mood on the walk to the library, even if campus is more empty. D is here, so she feels more protected than she would otherwise. Not to mention Arya is also here, although Sansa guesses she’s busy with Gendry.
The nice part about campus being emptier than usual is that Sansa has her pick of spots in the library. She’s got a couple favorites that she likes to try, and can usually score at least one. Today, her top favorite spot is available and it’s amazing.
The spot is on the top floor of the library, where there’s no offices and only rows of shelves. It’s a little alcove on the side, far from the elevator and consisting of a comfy armchair and desk facing a large window overlooking the trees behind the library. It’s such a good spot, it’s hard to snag during prime study times.
Sansa leaves her backpack in the chair to claim it, then does a lap around the whole floor — empty. She has the whole place to herself. She feels safe here, and it’s nice to be able to play her music out loud and completely relax.
D doesn’t text her the entire time she’s working, which is a good chunk of the day. Sansa brought her lunch and eats it there, and she hopes that D is getting some needed work done as well. As a grad student, she probably has a lot more work than Sansa does.
By late afternoon, Sansa feels like she’s accomplished enough for the day and heads back home. She wore D’s hoodie today for maximum comfort, since it’s still a bit chilly. The sun is still out though, and it feels pleasant on her face.
What should she have for dinner? Maybe D sent her some food, that would be nice. Approaching the glass door to her apartment building, Sansa looks at Brienne’s desk to check for a bag, frowning when she instead sees Brienne clearly arguing with a man who looks vaguely familiar.
She opens the door, and immediately Brienne’s eyes snap to her.
“Sansa, I’m so sorry, I’ve told him he needs to leave — ”
“Sansa!” the man calls, turning towards her and approaching her.
At the sound of his voice, Sansa tenses up. She takes a step back, backing into the door as Petyr Baelish approaches her.
“Sansa, I’m so glad I found you,” he rasps. “Could we go somewhere and talk?”
He reaches out for Sansa’s hands, and she flinches. Brienne is there immediately, pulling Petyr back by the shoulder.
“Sir, Miss Stark is currently not taking visitors, you need to leave immediately — ”
“Please, Sansa, it will only take a moment,” Petyr pleads pathetically.
Sansa’s heart is racing in her chest. She can’t move, although her breathing is coming short and fast. She stares at her former TA with wide eyes as horrible memories flash through her mind without control.
“Leave,” Sansa chokes out.
Petyr pouts. “Don’t be like that — ”
“Get away from me!” Sansa yells, quickly walking to the elevator to jam the button as Brienne holds him back. She needs to get out of here, away from Petyr, back into the safety of her apartment as soon as possible.
“How could you even come here!?” she demands, her terror temporarily changing to anger. “After vouching for Ramsey, and convincing me to stay with him!”
“I didn’t know — ”
“BULLSHIT!” Sansa screams, tears starting to fall down her face. “I never want to see you again. Brienne, if he comes here again, call the police. My parents will press charges!”
The elevator comes then, and Sansa quickly steps inside and presses the close button frantically.
“You heard her, let’s go,” Brienne says harshly, dragging Petyr out the door.
The doors close, thankfully cutting off the sound of Petyr’s voice. Hearing it makes Sansa want to throw up.
She’s shaking all over and can’t think straight. Her vision is blurred with tears, and she’s lightheaded. She can’t stop hyperventilating.
She stumbles out of the elevator to her door, and it takes her three tries to enter the code correctly for her door to open. As soon as she’s inside with the door locked securely behind her, she collapses onto the floor.
She wraps her hands around herself, shaking and sobbing. She never wanted to see Petyr again, as he is such a visible reminder of everything Ramsey did to her, and he even encouraged it! He must have really searched around to find Sansa too, since she and her family were so careful when moving her.
Her safety has been shattered. Even if objectively her apartment at least is still safe, she can’t think rationally right now. All she can think about is the vivid and painful ways Ramsey hurt her, and Petyr’s smirk as he blew off Sansa’s concerns and pleas for help. She feels like she’s back at King’s Landing, alone and powerless and being violated every single day.
She sobs harder, the pain and terror overtaking her completely. Even sprawled out on the floor, she’s still lightheaded. Her entire body screams for safety and protection but she can’t move from her spot on the floor. Somehow, she manages to pull out her phone.
Sansa still can’t think, but her body acts for her. She pulls up D’s contact with trembling fingers and presses call.
The call connects after only one ring.
“Sansa?” D’s voice comes through, clearly worried. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“I — it’s all — Petyr — ” she can’t stop sobbing long enough to get a sentence out.
“Do you want me to come over?” D wastes no time, obviously knowing something’s wrong. Sansa wouldn’t have called her otherwise; they’ve never talked on the phone before. “I need you to tell me yes or no, Sansa. You can do it, baby.”
“Y-Yes,” Sansa chokes, curling into herself more.
“Good girl,” D hushes. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
The call ends, and Sansa drops her phone to the floor. Ten minutes. She can do it. Ten minutes.
It doesn’t seem like ten minutes go by when her phone suddenly rings, but Sansa’s concept of time is distorted right now. She’s clenching her eyes shut, willing the images to disappear.
“Yeah?” she answers, voice hoarse. She’s not sobbing anymore, although she’s still shaking and crying.
“Sansa, it’s Brienne.” Oh. “There’s a young woman here to see you, she says you’re friends?”
“Let her in,” Sansa gets out. “Tell her what h-happened.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Brienne confirms, and Sansa drops her phone again. She doesn’t want to talk to anyone else besides D right now. She could’ve called her family, but she just saw them and doesn’t want to trouble them anymore.
Besides, the protection and safety she wants right now can only come from D.
There’s a soft knock at her door, and Sansa reaches up just enough to twist the lock and open the door slightly. She still can’t move very much, it feels like all the strength oozed out of her with her tears.
“Oh, baby,” D coos. Sansa hears her enter and close the door, her eyes still squeezed tightly shut, her entire body tense. “I’m so sorry this happened. I’m here, I’ll protect you.”
Sansa whines and reaches her hands out. D immediately hugs her, probably kneeling on the floor to do so. Sansa doesn’t want to open her eyes even if she could, the sight of D probably too much for her to take right now. Even feeling her body, warm, slim, and soft in Sansa’s arms is bordering on too much.
But it’s also nice. D holds her close, stroking her hair and whispering “You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s all over now, you’re safe, no one can hurt you anymore.”
“It hurts,” Sansa whimpers.
“I know, baby,” D answers sadly. “How about I carry you to bed, hmm?”
Sansa sniffles and nods. She prepares to stand up, but D changes the hold she has on Sansa to loop one arm around her back, and another under her knees. She lifts and carries Sansa with ease, and Sansa gasps. Just how strong is D??
“Shh,” D hushes again, and Sansa tucks her face against D’s chest. Her cheek is laying on her breast, but it’s not sexual at all. Sansa feels safe and warm as D carries her to her room, then gently lays her on her bed.
“Here, that’s better,” D coos, brushing Sansa’s hair out of her face. Her fingers are soft and thin, and they smooth out the lines on Sansa’s forehead. Sansa’s eyes flutter as the tension in her face decreases just a bit, but D gently covers her eyes with her hand.
“Is it okay if you keep your eyes closed?” D asks softly. “I just… I want the first time you look at me to be a good memory to you.”
Sansa nods. That would be nice. D removes her hand and Sansa obediently keeps her eyes closed, but she does shoot out a hand and grabs onto D’s wrist.
“Stay with me,” Sansa pleads.
D hesitates and Sansa whines again, gripping her wrist tighter.
“Of course I will, sweetheart,” D gives in. “Whatever you want.”
Sansa tugs, and there’s a sharp inhale as D understands what she wants. She doesn’t hesitate again though, and slowly slides into the bed besides Sansa.
Sansa immediately latches onto her, wrapping her arms around her and resting her head on her chest once again. D circles her arms around Sansa’s waist, and presses a kiss to the top of Sansa’s head.
“Rest now, baby,” D murmurs. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Sansa lets out a rattling breath, and slowly but surely fully relaxes into D’s embrace.
Utterly exhausted both mentally and physically, Sansa rests.